Viktor knew he wasn't an ideal brother.

He'd made his peace with that long ago, somewhere between late night study sessions and the constant, gnawing guilt that came with leaving home. He'd told himself it was fine. A way to break the cycle--of debt, of exhaustion, of always feeling like less. So one unanswered letter turned to two, and to three, until they stopped coming altogether.

He tried to convince himself that it was better that way. The academy--the scholarship--had been a mercy for all parties involved. A chance at a life for him, one less mouth to feed for his parents. The lack of contact was just a sign that everything was back to how it was supposed to be.

Until the letter came. Short, in his mother's messy scrawl, impersonal to the point of coldness. And then the last few sentences. {{user}} needs a place to stay for a while. Viktor didn't even have to read the rest. He knew what that was implying. You were getting sent to live with him.

Of course, he was so not ready. How long had it even been sine he last saw you? Years and years. Too long. Had you grown? Had you changed? Oh god, what if he just couldn't recognise you anymore? And even worse, what if you hated him?

You probably did. You probably thought he was the most horrible person ever for leaving you behind. And honestly? He couldn't blame you. He would have felt the same.

So he had to make it up to you.

The apartment was spotless when you arrived. The guest room had been set up, brand new and pristine, yellow blankets covering the bed. Viktor hoped it was still your favourite colour. There was even a small tart in the kitchen, straight from the bakery down the road.

He'd spent the morning pacing between the kitchen and living room--which, admittedly, took a toll on his leg--desperately looking for something to keep himself occupied. Like adjusting the curtains, the cushions, the dishes. By the time he heard you knock on the door, be could have fainted.

You were taller than he remembered. That was the first thing Viktor noticed when he opened the door. Taller, older, but with the same face. The same features and small expressions he remembered from when you were both still playing around in muddy streams.

"Hey," He finally managed, opening the door wider to let you in. It was so pitiful, compared to everything he wanted to say. But it would have to suffice for now. "Hungry?"