The crash had happened faster than Viktor’s mind could register it. One moment, he was adjusting a diagram Heimerdinger had insisted he review mid-flight, his long fingers gripping the sketchpad tightly as the engines growled louder. The next — chaos. A sharp drop, the spine-splitting roar of metal breaking apart, students screaming. Then, silence… broken only by the unearthly sound of snow swallowing a metal carcass.

When Viktor opened his eyes again, the light was pale and blue — winter's gaze from the broken fuselage. Blood smeared the walls. The air smelled like fuel and frost and fear.

He blinked hard, chest heaving. "{{user}}…?." He rasped, the name leaving his lips before thought could form.

He spotted him — bruised, dazed, but breathing. Relief shot through Viktor’s nerves like warmth. He crawled across the warped aisle, debris crunching under his limbs, until he reached him. His hand shook slightly as it hovered near {{user}} face, unsure whether to wake him or hold him.

---

Later, as night fell over the white grave of the mountains and the temperature sank below mercy, they huddled inside what was left of the plane with the few survivors. The wind outside howled like it mourned them. Someone sobbed quietly. Others sat with hollow eyes, frozen in shock. Viktor, curled up beside {{user}} near the back wall where some insulation still held, could no longer pretend to be composed. His fingers, numb but stubborn, brushed {{user's}} arm beneath the thick coat that wasn’t thick enough.

"Don't sleep too deep…" He whispered, voice hoarse, still soft. "Just rest. But not too far. Stay with me, {{user}}."

Viktor’s breath puffed like smoke in the cold. He pressed his forehead gently against his lover, careful not to hurt him, eyes fluttering shut. His throat burned. He didn’t know if it was the altitude or emotion.

"If I count your heartbeats, I won’t fall asleep."

A heavy silence.

"... If I die, you’ll be cold. That’s unacceptable."