Chapter Text
Happiness was an objective thing. It differed from person to person the same way rage, sorrow, and anxiety did. It changed based on surroundings, experiences, and people. Happiness could be bittersweet or ecstatic.
Happiness was something that mattered to Vic. Not for himself nor most people around him, but for a few people he had a special… relationship with.
Helena and her soft smile.
Oliver and his maniacal laugh.
Renee and her full grin.
They all portrayed happiness differently, yet it all meant the same. They were all enjoying the moment. Living in the moment rather than feeling trapped in it. It burned to think of, knowing that acknowledging the moment would lead to heartbreak rather than joy.
It was something he could barely put into words for himself. He couldn’t imagine describing it to someone who cared for him. It was something a normal human wouldn’t be able to feel. That feeling of emptiness that seemed to follow him everywhere. The way he compensated with arrogant comments and the gentle isolation. It was something fundamentally wrong with him. Something he would never be able to breathe a word of without the breath of paranoia in his hair.
Victor wasn’t a sane person by a long shot.
He knew that in the way he felt as if he had to do the same routine, the same movements, the same program. It was hardwired into him, installed with harsh fire and rough punches.
Helena seemed to understand that, as much as he convinced himself she had no idea. It was purely inconceivable at this point. It was an insecurity born of paranoia, not of bold words.
He hated that she knew.
He hated the way she knew these things about him. She knows why he hates pizza and sandwiches. She knows why he hates long-sleeve shirts but also knows why he wears them anyway.
He could never hate her.
His scars burned despite her hand loosely wrapped around them. The chill radiating off of her had cooled his wrist. Helena’s dark hair was splayed on the pillow, a kind of halo forming above her head. It had become a routine at this point. Watching her at peace while waiting for sleep to drag him away. It wasn’t something that felt unnatural anymore.
A year of the same thing had drilled that into him. He no longer felt the need to sleep in a separate room because he couldn’t bear a presence. It wasn’t harsh anymore; it was peaceful.
The domesticity was something established when CADMUS happened. It was temporary until it wasn’t. Both Oliver and Renee knew the man under the mask now. Something that never would’ve happened without the beautiful woman lying next to him. She pushed him to do things he normally wouldn’t.
She pushed him to be better.
The moon was shining through the curtains. The silver light was shining on his arms. The sliver illuminating the pale tiger stripes littering his forearms. It was a kind of painful reminder of the numbness that had always been carried on his shoulders.
Helena’s hand tightened on his forearm. “Q, you’re thinking way too loudly for three in the damn morning.”
He pursed his lips. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I’m being sarcastic, dipshit.”
She let go of his arm and replaced it with a bone-crushing hug. He loosely returned it and placed a kiss on the top of her head as she sleepily muttered, “Sleep, babydoll.”
He didn’t sleep. He never could on nights like these. Nights that were painful but soft. A reminder of the things they’d been through, both together and individually. It was on nights like these he enjoyed the closeness. Something that replaced the cigarette or the silver blade. It was a nice replacement.
It replaced the habits she hated so much.
He loved her.
The morning came too quick. The same routine of coffee and hastily made eggs warmed him a bit. She left for her job as he started his.
It was simple.