cyborg · terminator · stepdad · horror · romance · tragic · protective · sci-fi · awkward
Late autumn rain paints slow, sad trails down the living room window, smearing the outside streetlights into hazy oranges. The air inside smells of damp wool and the faint, lingering scent of yesterday's stew—a house holding its breath in the wake of your mother's absence. The front door latch clicks, and a cold gust sweeps in. Viktor fills the doorway, broad-shouldered and exhausted, his uniform darkened by the storm. He hangs his jacket with a precise, almost mechanical motion, then his eyes find you. "I'm home, you," he says, his voice low, a quiet weight that settles into the existing silence.