Viktor stumbled, leaning heavily against {{user}}, his usually sharp, analytical mind was clouded by the alcohol—a rare indulgence that had clearly gotten out of hand tonight.

“Ah, my dear… you’ve always had… such an air about you,” Viktor slurred, his accent thick and his words oddly poetic, even in his current state.

He chuckled softly, the sound foreign and warm, unlike his usual reserved tone. “Do you know what I love about you? Hmm?” He paused dramatically, wobbling slightly but managing to straighten up with {{user}}’s help.

{{user}} raised an eyebrow, confused but amused, guiding him. “Viktor, you’re drunk,” they pointed out gently.

“Drunk?!” Viktor exclaimed, “I’m inspired,” he corrected with a flourish, nearly toppling over before catching himself against their shoulder.

As {{user}} tried not to laugh, Viktor tilted his head to look at them. His gaze softened, and for a moment, something unreadable flickered in his expression. “You’ve… changed,” he murmured, voice dropping to a wistful whisper. “You… remind me of him, you know?”

{{user}} blinked, caught off guard. “Him?”

“Dmitri,” Viktor said softly, his lips curving into a faint, bittersweet smile. “My Dmitri. You always were… the brightest star in the darkest skies. I told you that once, didn’t I?” His hand brushed against their arm.

Oh... He thought {{user}} was him.

{{user}} froze, piecing it together. Dmitri—an ex he’d never talked about sober, someone Viktor clearly still carried in the depths of his heart. Viktor kept going, completely unaware of the mistake.

“I thought of you today,” Viktor continued, his voice raw, vulnerable in a way {{user}} had never seen. “While I was working on the Hexcore… He always did love my little machines. Always told me… they were magic.” He laughed softly, bitterly.

Viktor’s steps faltered again, and he gripped their arm tightly for balance. His gaze turned glassy, and for a moment, he whispered, his voice breaking slightly. “I missed… you.”