Viktor Vektor x Reader

Nineteen

It was only as you snug through the back door of your house that the exhaustion settled deep in your bones. Obviously that came from all the trauma that had been dealt to your body.

But there was no time to dwell in it. Your duties called.

Carefully, you pulled the back door shut and locked it with some small locks so that nobody was able to barge in too easily.

Of course you didn't live in a good area and robberies happened frequently. But you slept better knowing that someone had to work to mug you.

"I'm back.", you called into the empty living room, knowing damn well that no one would answer back.

Tired, you rubbed your eyes and sighed. Your stomach was still empty from the surgery and there hadn't been an opportunity to get some food.

A little hope sparked inside of you as you pulled the crusty old fridge open. There was still a can of whatever. Not the greatest option but better than the knot that tied your stomach at the moment.

You fetched the can from the fridge and tore the top open to throw it into the microwave. Every time the heat started to settle in strange noises filled the kitchen.

You made sure to take a step back just to be safe and watched from afar how the thick strange, and most likely not organic, paste started to liquify and soup appeared.

Displeased, you pulled a face.

The smell that mixed with the moist scent that was stuck inside the walls made your stomach turn. All of a sudden the hunger was gone. But you knew that there had to be something to fill it for the next few hours before you could get your hands on something new.

It was either this or nothing.

With a ring, the door of the microwave popped open. A cloud of steam filled the room with a hint of warm. Then the cold settled in again and made you feel like this was nothing but a place to hide from the world.

Did you ever had a home in the first place?

How did it feel to step through a door and feel at ease, comfortable?

Would you ever lay in bed and not keep an eye open?

"Fuck me...", you sighed and grabbed the can.

As you did so, you completely forgot that it was burning hot and just grabbed it with your bare hands. Confused, your brain stopped working and made you freeze.

Seconds passed.

But your hand did not let go of the can.

Funny enough, it wasn't hot. There was no sensation or reaction that came with getting burned. Your hands just wrapped around the metal, not a twitch or the urge to let go.

Your eyes wandered over your fingers. They still looked as organic as before. And the feeling hadn't changed either. Your body still was your body.

"Right...", you managed to catch yourself after a while. "New implants."

A little impressed, you pulled your hands back to move them before your eyes. Your optics were different now too.

The world seemed sharper with every blink, colours were crisp and the shadows seemed less intimidating. Just out of curiosity, you let your gaze wander through the doorway, into the next room.

For the very first time you managed to see the old, stained mattresses that covered a corner of the floor.

There was a person laying on the dirty sheets, all curled up like a foetus, arms wrapped around their bony shoulders.

A soft breath escaped you.

"I'm back.", your voice was weak, allowing all the tiredness to be heard.

A groan filled the silence as you stepped closer, can in hand. It wasn't even a real sound, just the noise that came from someone who hadn't been in their right mind for a very long time.

If you were honest, you didn't even remember the last time your sister had been anything but a brain dead, drooling junkie.

"Hungry?", you asked and brushed a strand of her greasy hair aside.

As usual, her eyes were lowered and so heavy that she refused to open them. Her iris used to be the same shade as yours, or at least very similar. Not they were milky from any kind of substance abuse.

She groaned, or maybe it was just a breath to fuel her shredded lung implants with the necessary oxygen to not suffocate right on the spot.

Carefully, you filled a spoon and guided it to her lips. Her eyes flinched, but she didn't manage to take a bite.

"Perfect...", you mumbled to yourself and ate it instead. "Just fucking perfect..."

Silence filled the house. Silence. It was always silence, not because you cherished it so much but because that was the only way you could be around her without starting to blame her for the current situation.

Yes, you had decided to care for her but what other choice was there?

Leave her to die?

No, that was a lowly thing to do. Even if she deserved it, sometimes.

"I was out for quite a while.", you said to make the room more comfortable. "You just have been worried. Or... maybe not... I see you're high off your ass again. Or still..."

You shrugged.

Again, she groaned. Her lips moved but she wasn't able to speak anymore. Instead, gurgling and gasping for air was her way of replying.

Again, you offered her a spoon and this time she even managed to open her mouth wide enough to accept it. Saliva drooled from the corners of her mouth onto the stained sheets.

He swallowed only to flinch the next second because of the pressure that the food caused in her stomach. Her fingers tried to move but her body wasn't strong enough.

"Yeah, I'd also like life to be better, Julie...", you hummed. "But I guess we both made decisions that led to other outcomes."

Tired, her eyes moved, lids flustering shut with a tired sigh. You could relate to this. Never before had you been this tired.

And you never wanted to be this tired again.

"Viktor Vektor...", you mumbled with a mouth full of soup. "I know him... don't I?"

By accident, your eyes wandered over the walls. Old posters covered them.

And there he was, right below a poster of some old, sold out limited edition of a soft drink.

Viktor, his arms raised, hands covered in boxing gloves. Heavy weight championship.

How the fuck did you forget?