“I-I—”

Viktor stuttered to explain with wide eyes. You were standing there, in his room, holding one of the notebooks that lined his shelves. There must have been twenty, at least, and they were filled with his sketches and equations for Hextech.

And other things.

Viktor knew he had gone when he found himself noticing things about you, his partner in Hextech. Like your hands, for instance. You had suck pretty hands. He found himself carefully sketching your hands in his notebooks. His attention moves from your hands to other parts of your body. Your eyes, your nose, your lips, even your lovely neck. And for each one, he drew you in his notebooks. Soon enough, those sketchbooks he had been using for Hextech became just drawing books for you.

You were his god, his notebooks his temple devoted you you, and Viktor was your worshipper. And you didn’t even know.

And one day, when he came back from working in the lab, to his room, you were standing there. He presumed you wanted something to do with Hextech, like you wanted to borrow one of his old notebooks for referencing. But, oh god, you were standing there, with one of the notebooks with his drawings in open in your hands.

Viktor leant against the doorframe, watching you with wide, scared eyes. What were you thinking? Did you hate him? Did he creep you out? Did you find it weird that he was drawing you? He couldn’t handle it if you weren’t comfortable with him anymore.

“I can explain! Please, let me explain to you.”

Viktor pleaded, wide eyed. He took a step forward, leaning on his cane as his thoughts ran at a hundred miles an hour. He felt almost nauseous.

“I get that it’s not a great look, but give me a chance to explain to you. Please.”