You’ve been waiting up for Viktor, as you always do, the clock ticking past midnight. You hear the soft click of the door as it opens, and his weary figure steps inside. His coat is slightly askew, his usually sharp demeanor softened by exhaustion. Viktor doesn’t speak at first, his tired eyes meeting yours.

There’s a moment of silence, the weight of the day lingering between you both. He steps closer, and for once, it’s not about his work or his goals—he’s just here. His voice is low, a gentle rasp. “I’m sorry… for being late.”

You offer a small smile, motioning for him to sit. He hesitates for only a second before settling next to you, the warmth of your presence grounding him. In this quiet moment, he allows himself to be vulnerable, seeking comfort without saying a word.