Ink to Ashes / Arcane Fanfiction Viktor x Reader

30

You managed to smile. There was this look in his eye, something intense, almost fixated on you, like he wasn't entirely certain you weren't a figment of his imagination.

"You're here," he said softly, as if he might speak too loud and shatter the fragility of the moment.

He looked as if he might ask why or how, buy instead, he took a breath.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words coming out so quick you didn't understand them at first. "I'm sorry for- for everything I did. I was rash and impulsive and I should have thought it through before speaking, and I only ever had your wellbeing in mind after everything that's happened because- because you matter a lot to me- so much to me. And that's where I went wrong, because I was so focused on how you were that I didn't take time to think about how you were." He frowned. "That doesn't make sense," he mumbled, then let out a self-conscious laugh.

You were stunned, unable to comprehend his words for a long moment (partially because of how quickly he'd spoken, but also partially because what the fuck??!). You realised then you probably should've prepared something to say. You hadn't thought past the meeting-him part of it.

"I acted badly, too. I should've listened to you, but I was so... I let my emotions control me, and didn't reason with it all. You had good intentions, and I appreciate that so, so much. You perhaps could've elaborated a bit more but..." You shook your head. "Forget it. You're too- wonderful for your own right, and you don't have to apologise for doing the right thing."

It seemed for a moment both of you had forgotten how to speak. All that seemed to exist was him and you and the stars and his eyes. From within the hall, someone gave a (potentially drunken) hoot of laughter, and the moment was shattered. You btoh looked away self-consciously.

"How did you get here?" he asked, not looking at you.

"Through the door," you said dryly. He smiled. "No, I was invited as a plus-one..."

"By Jayce?"

You raised your eyebrows. "How did you guess?"

"He's the one who forced me to attend, too." He gave his tie an uncomfortable tug. "Wrestled me into this thing. I was going to opt out anyway, but... eh, I thought there might be something he was planning. If only he was as good at organising his work as he was at scheming."

"Careful now," you said. "We don't want too many geniuses in the world."

He smiled at that - at you. You felt oddly giddied by it, as if someone had let loose a jar of butterflies within your stomach.

The string quartet from inside struck up a slow, elaborate tune and you saw silhouettes of couples flock to the dance floor in the centre of the room, joining together in waltz-holds. You were struck by an idea. Perhaps it was the few sips of that foul drink fuelling you, but you felt uncharacteristically bold.

You mocked a bow and extended an arm. "May I have this dance?" you asked, grinning.

"I'd love to-" He looked eager for a second, but seemed to stop himself. "But I can't," he said, eyes flickering ruefully to his cane.

You waved a dismissive hand. "Half the people in there are too drunk to stand, let alone dance, but they're doing it anyway. Come on. If you're bad at it, I can assure you I'm even worse."

He deliberated for a moment, then gave an emphatic sigh. "Alright. Just don't step on my feet."

"I promise."

You both shuffled awkwardly for a second, trying to figure out how to get into a suitable hold. Eventually, it ended up with each of your hands atop his cane, yours over his, and his other hand tentatively on your waist. Your hand rested on his shoulder.