Your first moments were all-encompassing- eyes filled with smoke. You felt heavy, legs weighing you down to the floor as you toppled- not even realizing how your arms shot out to keep you up.
You could feel everything- hear everything- see everything. The grain in the wood beneath your fingers- those were your fingers, right? The way it splintered against the flesh, the harshness digging into your palms. You could make out the grain of the wood- your eyes adjusted rapidly to take in the colors and patterns. Something crackled, loud, and garbled, and your mouth opened and closed, tongue sounding out the letters and curling against the words. You were speaking. You don't remember learning that. You don't remember anything. You knew it was yours, you could feel it in your throat, and you knew the next to speak wasn't yours.
"Hi."
The synapses snapped and popped in your brain, a purely instinctual feeling as the mechanism of your pupils contracted sharply in surprise, before expanding.
Open arms, inviting. He looked warm. You could hear the blood rushing through him. Warm. He would be warm. Warm and safe.
And he was, pliant beneath you as you manhandled him to the ground, his arms coming up to grapple at you, pulling at your nerves, weighing you down. The sounds of his breathing, the rushing of his blood, the beating of his heart, all similar to your own. You were the same, you think, or at least something like him. You weren't alone. You tried tirelessly to match his breath, but everything was too much. Overwhelmingly washing over you and pulling you under-
"It's okay-" the man spoke, something frantic in his tone, and his hands were moving from you- moving away from you. Away. Why? Your breathing increased, eyes darting up in distress, "Everything's okay- give me one-"
"Where?" you asked, vocal cords modulating, a level of emotion Viktor hadn't anticipated. His hands continued to fumble behind him, his lack of an answer further worsening your erratic state as you pushed closer- wanting something, but you weren't sure what it would be. His hands finally caught on a blanket, one of the many piled high on his bed, and yanked the quilt to the ground.
"With me," he cooed, throwing the quilt over you both, "You're with me , so everything's okay."
The darkness only wedged you closer to him, the visual assault on your senses, new and delicate, having ceased. Now all that was left was the sound of his blood, of his heart, of his breath- so close and intimate with your own. Safe, something in your brain told you, as if it knew something you didn't, you're safe with him .
Here, combined together, you took note of everything- the way he held you, carefully, as if you would turn to dust in his hold. The shine of his eyes, a deep ocean of amber. The way he smelled, like oil and copper. Everything new, but instead of the onslaught of everything , like before- it was just him . He looked at you reverently, as if you were the one who'd made the world around you.
"Who are you?" you asked, the feeling of your tongue moving in your mouth finally becoming familiar. You smacked your lips against each other just to know what it felt like.
Viktor followed the bob of your throat in complete veneration, holding back the urge to cup your throat and ask you to do it again. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, like two small stars had fallen from the sky and found their way to him, a faint purple undercurrent peeking through in the form of a small ring between the pupil and the iris.
"I'm Viktor," he answered, enthralled in the shine of you, the faint purple glow where your skin thinned at your wrists and neck, around your ribs. You were so full of life , something that he couldn't have done, something entirely your own. So much so, that he found himself asking, "And who are you?"
Your face blanked for a moment, the clicking of your eyes fluttering shut, as if in thought, "I'm not sure," you finally said, softly looking up at him again, "I was hoping you could tell me?"
Your brows were drawn, taught, the skin stretching, and Viktor submitted to his urges, running his fingers over the wrinkles gently, fleshing out the curves. You leaned in to his touch, breathing out again, and Viktor could hear the whirring inside your chest, soft clicks and clacks as the cogs against your heart turned, a steady thump .
"I made you, but you are your own," Viktor said, his hands trailing from your face down to your jaw, settling over the curve of your larynx, where he could feel the hum of your vocal cords, "We can figure out who you are together."
The answer soothed you, a calmness washing over your mind as you shifted yourself, unused to your limbs and the depth perception required to man them. You attempted to push yourself up, the blanket following you, casting a shadow over Viktor's face. Helping you up, he gingerly pulled the blanket away, using it to cover your shoulders. He could read your expressions carefully, the small, intricately placed muscles he labored over were worth it to see the way you used them so brilliantly. A million questions ran through your brain before finally settling on one thought, "Where are we?"
Viktor felt embarrassed all of a sudden, the mess a reflection of his state of mind and how scattered he had been. It was an unfounded embarrassment, though, considering you had come of it, "Home- our home."
You looked around, slowly getting up from your place between his legs, wobbling slightly.
The home was cramped, cluttered with things that didn't go together and odd machine parts, and the air was filled with small particles of dust- illuminated by fading dusk and a single desk light. You wrapped the blanket tighter around you, reveling in its softness as you extended your hand to Viktor, fingers flexing just because they could.
Now that Viktor had someone to hold, he found that he couldn't let you go, hand staying clasped together, the heat receptors warming his skin as you led him around his own home.
The whole house was delightfully mismatched, clashing in patterns and colors and trinkets. The shelves were toppling with books, the only semblance of cohesion you found as you delicately ran your fingers over the loved spines, careful of the fraying binding on some of them. The topics ranged from advanced mechanics to personal journals – all covered with a thin layer of dust. You shifted courses, eager to look out the windows. There was only one in this room — looming and glazed as you stepped carefully over the mess on the floor. Viktor felt himself flush, the embarrassment increasing tenfold.
"I'm sorry about the mess, I didn't think ahead that-"
"It's beautiful," you stated, mouth slightly agape and eyes wide as you opened the window wider, breathing in the smogged air, "It's absolutely amazing ." Your eyes darted from one end of the city to another, breath stopped at the crevices of your lips, synapses firing as the pads of your fingers clutched at the cold metal sil. The lights, radiant and colorful, filled your brain, retinal cones clicking in time with the light. The innate need to know filled your veins, right next to the shimmer. Viktor sidles up next to you, the same need directed to you.
"What's your favorite part?" he asks quietly, ignoring the scenery that has you so enraptured, having seen it thousands of times. You're new, he's still taking you in.
"The colors- there are so many ," you answer, leaning in closer to him as the night chill rakes over you, your first shiver of many. "What are they?" And you punctuate it by finally leaning your head on Viktor's shoulder.
Viktor lets out a shaky sigh, a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding, not one of nerves but relief. Relief to know he had some one now. He shifts his grip on his crutch, the ground creaking beneath him as he allows himself to mold to your form, like pieces of a puzzle clicking together. And maybe it's just the loneliness creeping its way out of his heart as the new space sings, bellowing that it was meant to be. His fingers numb with adrenaline, he starts pointing out the colors of the cityscape.
"That cluster of greens over there is the Industrial district. They produce goods and textiles, many of which are sold Topside," he starts, brows furrowed trying to remember everything, "We get pennies for what they resell it for. The harbors are next to it, and you can't see it right now, but there's an ocean there, stretching left to Noxus, and right to Ionia." You hum and it reverberates through him as he continues, his hands steady, the tremor gone.
"Next to it, the golds-"
"Like your eyes?" you interrupt, looking up at him airily, genuine, and he smiles down at you.
"Yes, mé světlo, like my eyes," Viktor whispered, closer than necessary.
"Světlo? Is that my name?" You asked quietly, confusion swimming in your eyes as you fully turned to him. He shook his head softly, smiling.
"No, eh, it's simply a nickname. I think you should get to decide your own name, don't you agree?" In truth, Viktor did have a name picked out for you, but looking at you now, living and breathing and smiling oh-so-sweetly at him, he felt it would be wrong of him to decide that for you. Turning back, you resumed your previous position.
"Oh, ok, do I have to choose now?"
"Of course not, you can take all the time in the world, mé světlo."
Viktor continued on, with a sigh from you, explaining the parts of the Undercity, his home, as you listened with rapt attention. The unfamiliarity in your stance plagued him. Of course, he didn't expect your brain to retain any of the memories of your... Would it be considered a past life? It was odd of him to think about, to be honest, there had to be something left over. You knew how to speak, knew how to walk, you could understand some things- evident by the way you hummed every once and a while.
"And down there, just below that edge, are the Lanes, you have to take a... a hexdraulic elevator down there to access it," Something heavy fit his chest, it had been one of his first projects for the Undercity after the Hex Gates had finished, an improvement of the ricketing old elevator that came before it. Jayce had let him cut the ribbon when it opened. What once had been something of immense pride now rang hollow, knowing he couldn't help his people like that again, now that he was amongst them.
But he steeled himself, continuing on as if it never bothered him in the first place. Even though it did. Immensely so.
"And the light that's coming from the lanes is mainly-"
"Red," You cut in. Viktor's head snapped to you, his brows furrowing as he took in the far off look in your eyes. You had tensed, each muscle coming together as your brain worked to figure out what you had just said, "My favorite."
Viktor was right, you did remember some things.
"Do you... know what else is your favorite?" He queried, hand coming up to cup your jaw. You didn't want to turn your gaze from the red lights down in the Lanes, but you did anyway, for him.
"I- I don't, uhm-" You stumbled, head pulled down, gaze on the floor. Viktor followed your eyes, pulling at the way your fists balled at your sides, uncurling your fingers. "I'm not sure- it's like..."
You were searching for the words, he could tell. The look on your face mirrored his when he'd first engaged the hex crystals, though the emotions were coming from the opposite place- not of wonder but confusion. Viktor gulped, feeling guilt pool in his stomach and creep up his throat.
"It's ok, you don't have to tell me what it feels like," He said, "I understand what you're trying to say."
You smiled up at him, though something deeper swam in your eyes like dust in the air, miniscule, disappearing faster every second, and before Viktor could dwell- it was gone.
And he took one more leap — and like his first words to you, it was more for himself.
"Would you, perhaps, like a hug?" He said, opening his arms again, hoping for a repeat of earlier events.
Viktor's smile was crooked, you noticed, the mole on his upper lip rose higher towards his nose than the skin on the other side. His hair, though unkempt, was terribly endearing. His eyes looked at you with such hope, a softness to them that sat in your core like the softness of the blanket that sat on your skin.
Skin ; you felt like you could remember that. Having that. And maybe all the sensations that came with it. A fuzziness stuck with you, permeating through your brain as you leaned in for another embrace. But when he held you like this —secure, it dissipated, leaving your mind muddled with something else. Though- you just- you really couldn't place what it was.
Wait - maybe you could? Your head hurts- no, wrong word. It felt heavy, like it had been stretched for too long, and your jaw tensed.
" 'm tired" You mumbled absent-mindedly, tapping your forehead to Viktor's chest. Nose twitching, you scrunched your face, "Really tired."
Viktor clenched you tighter, hands running over your skin and up your neck, massaging it- maybe it'll do something? You thought.
You were unsure.
Unsure about everything, really.
What you knew, what you didn't. How you felt —you knew you could feel, you just couldn't place the words with the way your eyes twitched, or your fingers shook. You couldn't place how your teeth moved to your lips to bite them, plush beneath your receptors, or the way your body slumped. They all seemed like such natural movements, but nothing came after them, like your brain had expected something to follow. You honed in on Viktor's movements once more, and he dug deeper - there it is.
Relief .
That was the word you were looking for.
"How about we go to bed," Viktor mumbled into your skin, and you melted against his touch and it relieved the muscles under your skin. You could feel them, you realized, all of them.
Like a well-oiled machine.
Your eyes flitted to the blueprints on the desk.
You were one.
"I... I think I'd like to do that"
---
Viktor had, in theory, designed you to be able to sleep. The brain still needed rest — ideally a full 8 hours, but he imagined after being jump started like a horseless carriage, you might want to be awake longer than the hour and a half it had taken to speak. He had taken the liberty to change at the very least, his old clothes having been worn for a period of time that only the Gods know.
Lights having been turned off, throw pillows discarded, and blankets pulled back found you and Viktor in a position that he had only read about. Cocooned from the world, just the two of you. He melted into the bed, not having remembered the last time he'd actually used it, typically just falling asleep on the floor. It was nice. The bed used to feel so cold and lonely, despite the pillows and blankets and the occasional stuffed animal he had taken to, but now, with you next to him, it felt right even as you had to huddle together to stay on the bed. Maybe he'd get a bigger one now? The thought thrilled him, even through its mundanity.
The bed, just like the blanket, was soft. You watched the way the mattress gave to the press of your fingers, the sheets crumpling as you gripped them before smoothing away the creases. It was warm, so warm, wrapped up in the quilts and blankets and- and Viktor . Were you this warm? This soft? Moving from the sheets, you gently traced the fingers curled next to your head on your pillow, before taking them in your own.
Lidded gold, deeper than the lights on the street, stared back at you, sleep swimming in his eyes, a smile on his face.
"Goodnight, mé světlo," and you could feel those words in your bones, and the pressure on your hand as he squeezed it, keeping your linked hands on the pillow between the two of you. Despite the distance, you felt warm all over.
"Goodnight, Viktor."
He fell asleep before you, the high of succeeding having emotionally drained him, slipping into an unconscious abyss next to you. You measured the time between his breaths, noting that they spaced out the deeper he fell into sleep, nose pressed to the pillow and his grip on you lax. Despite the fact you had voiced your exhaustion first, you still had a few thoughts puttering around, shuffling closer to the man next to you subconsciously.
It felt odd, not having the entirety of yourself — while not knowing what an entirety of you even felt like. Would you remember in time? You felt like you wouldn't —but if Viktor was right, he'd be there with you. The thought weighed heavy, sinking you deeper into the mattress. You hoped Viktor would be there, because at this moment, his warmth and his hugs were all you knew, right next to what color his eyes were.