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This was the most terrifying thing you'd ever done.

Forget traversing through the Undercity, or getting beat up by thugs, or getting godsdamned kidnapped. No, social events were officially your No. 1 biggest fear.

You stood huddled in a corner, practically penned in by attendees in crisp suits and flowing gowns. You clung onto the stem of a slender champagne glass like a lifeline. You'd been handed it as you entered, took a sip, and declared it the foulest thing you'd ever tasted - you were slowly working on pouring it little by little into a nearby plant pot.

You tugged at your clothing, longing for some cool air. You'd chosen to wear [whatever you like! you're totally not about to confess your love to a scrawny scientist dude so imagine yourself looking gor-ge-ous *snap snap snap*]. The gala was held in a giant, cavernous room, impossibly huge - and yet somehow intolerably stuffy. The air was thick with a thousand variations of perfumes and colognes, combined with the heady scent of expensive alcohol and the sort of smell that could only be described as 'rich people'. It made your head hurt and you feel slightly not real, as if you were watching your life through a warped window.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling like pearls from a rich woman's neck, casting the room in a flickering, golden glow. Somewhere, tucked behind the mass of bejewelled and satin-clad bodies was a string quartet, although its pitch melodies were drowned out by the constant hatter and tink! of glassware.

Across the room, you saw Jayce in a crowd of important-looking people. You caught his eye and he raised his eyebrows, a silent question. You shrugged and shook your head. No Viktor. He made to walk over to you, but was intercepted by someone and roped into a conversation.

You sighed and poured the rest of your drink into the plant pot. You'd had enough. You needed a break. You spotted a door to outside - a balcony, you presumed - and, after abounding your empty glass on by an ornamental vase, slipped out of the room.

As expected, the doorway lead onto a balcony offering an expanse view of the city. In the dark, you couldn't tell the difference between the stars and illuminated windows and streetlights; a wall of night sky. You were alone.

The fresh night air, still lukewarm from the day's heat, was a relief after the hot, stuffy atmosphere of the ball. You breathed in a lungful and leaned your elbows on the balustrade, resting your face in your hands. What were you doing here? You didn't belong in places like that, with people like that, who bought jewelry expensive enough to pay your rent for the rest of your life.

Was it really worth enduring just to see some guy that literally a week ago said he never wanted to see you again? Looking at it like that, it was futile. Pointless.

Just as you'd made your mind up, that yes, this was stupud, you should go home and just forget this all happened, you heard footsteps behind you. No- not just footsteps. The sound of steps... and a cane.

"Y/N?"

You turned. Viktor stood in the doorway, surprise evident on his face. He wore a half-hearted attempt at formal attire, a black tie messily tied at his shirt collar, a slightly too-big suit jacket slung over his usual work clothes. The light from the city behind you lit up his eyes, making them seem as if they held the night sky, bright and beautiful.

You didn't know how long the two of you gawked at one another - seconds, minutes, hours. Finally, you broke the silence by saying, softly, "Viktor."

For a moment, you thought you saw him shiver, although it wasn't cold.

He took a step forwards, hesitant, uncertain you wanted him there. You did. You hated to admit how grateful you were to see him. You stepped to the side to make room, and he came to stand next to you.

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