Viktor knew you were a fighter, and he admired that you stood your place. That was until you came home covered in blood and bruises, and collapsed into a bloody mess on the couch. He was used to you being a bit roughed up, but never this severe. He couldn't help it when his heart sunk when he saw the sight of you.

He spent the better part of the evening cleaning and tending to your wounds. Even after that, concern was still so heavily shown on his face. Pacing back and forth infront of the couch. He needed you to wake up. He needed you.