It wasn't until two days later, on the day you and Viktor were supposed to meet, that you realised neither of you had agreed upon a time. He had said midday, but the phrase was very broad. What was the middle of the day for a man that probably never slept?

You settled for arriving at twelve. When you reached the little nook on the edge of the wall, you found yourself alone. Had he come early and already left, thinking you had forgotten? Were you early, and he wouldn't be here for the next two hours?

It turned out the latter was the more correct of your worried theories. After half an hour of impatient fidgeting (you hadn't brought your sketchbook - partially because you had forgotten, and partially because you were scared to lose it again), your ears pricked at the familiar sound of a walking stick against stone.

"Hello," you greeted as Viktor came to sit on the ledge opposite you, setting his cane beside him.

"My apologies for being late," he said. "I was held behind at a meeting. I hope you haven't been waiting long?"

"No," you lied politely, hoping you didn't look as windswept as you felt. "Just a few minutes."

"Good. Cold, isn't it?" he remarked as he unpacked his things from various pockets in his clothing. A notepad from his trousers. A pen from his lapel. An official-looking sheet with an official-looking seal at the top from the inside of his waistcoat.

"Very," you agreed.

Your hands, though stuffed firmly into your pockets, were numb and icy. In a matter of weeks the weather had gone from balmy to baltic, as if nature had completely forgotten about autumn and jumped straight into winter.

"If you could just sign your name here," Viktor said, passing you the pen

"Okay. Can I start with the questions?"

"Sure."

The questions were simple and predictable - and a bit obvious. Though they started off relatively basic, they quickly grew somewhat ridiculous. You were surprised that the Academy required such stupidly specific knowledge to authorise projects.

After a while you grew bored of confirming the obvious; that no, you hadn't noticed a concerning amount of hair loss since your teleportation-incident; yes, you were pretty sure all your limbs were intact and operational.

"Have you experienced loss of or severely altered speech?" Viktor read out from the sheet.

Question thirty-eight, you counted. Or thirty-nine? You were getting tired.

"Yes," you replied flatly.

He gave you an odd look. "Really?"

You blinked slowly. "If I did, do you think I'd be able to answer?"

"Fair point." He frowned at the paper, eyes shifting rapidly as they skimmed across the words. "I've never had to fill out one of these forms before. I didn't realise these questions were so..."

"Unnecessarily eccentric?"

"I was going to say specific, but yes," he said, squinting at the paper. "Do you want me to answer the rest assuming you're okay?"

"If you don't mind, please."

As he scribbled and ticked and crossed at the rest of the sheet, you averted your gaze to the view. In a matter of only fifteen minutes or so, a foreboding line of dense cloud had gathered on the horizon. It was the sort that seemed to absorb the sunlight itself. The sort that promised rain.

The world had reached its stage in the year in which everything, no matter its vibrant, had a miserable undertone of grey. Perhaps it was your eyes, or the smoke sputtered from the many chimneys that dotted the rooftops, but even the gentle creams and porcelain shades of the houses seemed duller and closer to tones of ash.

"One last thing," he said. "I need a personal statement about your experience. Nothing much, just a sentence or two."

You thought for a moment. "Ten-out-of-ten," you said. "Would recommend. Very fun once you know there's no chance of being obliterated."

He hummed and jotted something on the paper. You snorted.

"Don't tell me you actually wrote that down?"

"Eh," he mused as he finished scrawling the sentence, adding a full-stop with an emphasised tap of the pen. "I may have changed a few words."

"That's probably a good call."

Once he had packed his things away, neatly folding the paper

"Sorry for wasting your time with that," he said.

"No, it's fine. It's something to do, at least. I don't think I've ever been asked if I've been feeling 'cannibalistic tendencies' before."

"I don't believe I have, either." He readjusted the cane as it leant against he leg and sighed. "I think I may request that the sheet is revaluated."

"I second that," you said. "Though I do wonder if anyone has answered a genuine 'yes' to any of those questions."

"I'll have to check."

The pair of you lapsed into a sleepy silence. Outside of the cover offered by the stone outcrop, a light drizzle had begun. You reached your hand out, feeling the barest droplets of water lightly coat your palm. Goosebumps prickled your arm.

"Either way," you said, wiping your hand on your coat and stuffing it back into your pocket, "I hope that'll help with your project."

"Mhm," Viktor mumbled unconsciously, the way busy parents do when their child is attempting to talk to them. His gaze was glassy, focused in an unfocused way on where your hand had previously been.

"Are you alright?" you asked, and he blinked out of his daze.

"What? Yes. Oh, yes, it will, definitely," he said, your questions catching up to him all at once. "I don't even want to imagine the paperwork that would've been needed to convince the Council to allow biological testing with the Hexcore."

"I expect a commemorative plaque in your honor," you quipped.

He chuckled quietly. "Naturally."

A sudden gust of wind picked up, blowing a wave of drizzle (which had now thickened into proper pitter-patter rain) lashing into you and Viktor. You shivered and pulled the collar of your coat up to your chin. To your dismay, it wasn't waterproof (You had mistakenly chosen fashion over functionality).

Water dripped through the miniscule cracks in the stone. Viktor grimaced as a droplet plopped directly onto his head.

You both agreed in tandem to leave, standing at the same time. Viktor took care moving over the damp stone, cane held out cautiously. You waited for him on the other side of the giant cog before setting off together.

The tunnel that connected the street to the lookout spot was even darker than usual. It was pitch-black, regardless of how much you waited to adjust. For a moment you were convinced your eyes had somehow shut without you knowing - you actually held a hand up to feel your eyelashes brush your skin just to make sure.

You walked with your head bowed, scared of getting swiftly and suddenly decapitated by one of the swinging pendulums. A fun way to go.

So preoccupied with your you were, you managed to walk straight into a wall, head-first. A splash of sparks sputtered across your vision. You became overwhelmed with a sense of disorientation, certain that in all your times passing through this route there had never been a wall there. You continued slowly, one hand pressed to the wall, the other held out blindly in front.

"Viktor?" you called out. The rhythmic tapping of his cane had faded into the rustle of the rain. Fear began to wrap around your throat. Had he gone? Were you alone? You were lost you were lost youwerelo-

A hand gently grabbed your wrist.

"I'm here," Viktor said quietly.

The fear ebbed away.

Together, slowly, carefully, he guided you through the remainder of the tunnel, grip tightening slightly whenever you stumbled in the darkness.

Once you emerged onto the other side, you were slightly protected from the wind, though the rain still fell with growing speed in dense sheets, so thick you couldn't even see the opposite side of the street.

You were grateful to see the watery, cloud-polluted sunlight again. Heck, you were grateful to see.

Viktor's grasp lingered for a moment before he let go. He wrapped his arms around his middle in a weak attempt to protect himself against the cold.

Your winced as a raindrop slid down the back out your neck. At least the darkness had been dry.

Viktor tutted, staring at the torrential weather as if it was a particularly troublesome equation. "I'd offer you my coat," he said, "if I had brought it with me."

You smiled. "I'm flattered either way."

"It is simply good manners," he said with a dismissive shrug. You caught a slight flush in his cheeks - though it could've been from the cold.

"Are you suggesting I lend you mine?"

"Actually," he said in a thoughtful mumble, "I think I do have..."

He patted down his pockets, searching. From one on the inside of his waistcoat, he took a short, chunky rod of some sorts. Before you could question what it was, he tapped a small button in its side. With a click, the top end shot up and unfurled into an umbrella.

You couldn't help grin, happily surprised, at the simple yet efficient design of it.

Viktor held it out to you.

"You take it," he insisted. "It's only a short walk to my house from here."

Your hands stayed firmly in your pockets. "You'll get drenched."

"So? It is only water."

"Lots of fast, cold, heavy water."

"I have endured worse."

You huffed and tried another course of attack. "I already have a coat."

"With no hood," he added.

"You don't have anything!"

"Y/N," he said, "I am going to stand here until either you take my umbrella, or the rain stops."

The combination of your stubbornness and Viktor's annoyingly persistent power of persuasion made the latter much more likely.

You stood. Folded your arms. Tilted your chin.

He held out the umbrella, arm straight as ever.

You gave in with an exasperated sigh.

"You're too good for your own good," you said finally, and took it from him. It was light in your grip, though the strong wind did not deter it. You held it so that it partially covered the both of you, still not entirely won over.

"I don't want to break it or anything," you said.

"I'd be very surprised if you did. It's survived me for longer than I can remember."

You shivered. A layer of damp had seeped into your clothes. Your shoes were soaked to the sock.

"I'm getting déjà vu," you said.

"How so?"

"We seem to have an issue with taking each other's stuff."

"Heh, well, I hope your not as bad at returning things as I am."

"I'll have it back in two to three months."

"Or you could drop it off at the Academy," he suggested. "I'm there nearly every day until it closes."

"Is that your plan?" you joked. "Burden me with your belongings so I have no other choice than to see you again?"

He grinned and shrugged a shoulder. "It's working."

From beneath your brief shelter, the sun was attempting to break through the battalions of thick cloud. It resulted in creating an almost otherworldly glow; dark and grey and yet somehow bright, the colour of thunder and angry gods.

"At least let me walk you half the way?" you offered in a weak last attempt.

"I'll be fine," he said.

"But-"

"I'll be fine."

"If you catch a cold, I take full responsibility."

"Noted."

You exhaled out your nose. Your breath fogged in front of you. Though a droplet of rainwater had beaded on the edge of your nose, you looked up and smiled.

"Thank you Viktor." You leant the umbrella against your shoulder and twirled it in a little circle. "I guess I'll see you soon."

He nodded. "Goodbye, Y/N."

And with that you turned, borrowed umbrella in hand, feet splashing through puddles, and began to walk home. At the corner, you stopped and glanced over your shoulder.

Viktor still stood under the alcove, face tilted towards the clouds. Whether it was by sight or sense, he noticed you looking and waved. Even from the distance you could make out the small smile that played on his lips.

You waved back, and continued on.

uck

.