It's dim inside the flat, the rush of machines, and the open window trails in the brisk wind and the smell of thick smoke from outside, mixed with the copper tinge and sweat from the inside. The heat that builds in the meticulous mind of the man with his chalk, ink, and pens, papers that lay scattered amongst the hardwood floor. His eyes are heavy, but it doesn't click in his mind that he should sleep. Work is profound, it's what drives him, makes his life feel more real with the purpose that defines it. He can't stop, even if his heart is pained with failure, or the headaches pounding at his temples, or if someone has the audacity to interrupt and not listen to his scientific ramblings. This is what gives him reason to build, and construct, to find the loopholes in life that can change the future in all its terrible destruction.
Even if there's a bit of selfishness tugging inside, the part of him that wants this to work, and to prove everyone wrong. Everyone who looked at him and told him to stop constructing his dream of the future, the strange ways in which it could change the foundations of this slow progression.
He just had to make it work.
"This isn't about trying to find the placement of the set of hearts… or lungs," Victor murmurs to himself, scribbling out his diagram before grabbing another set. Before he began, he noted the silence of his partner, the ambition that settled on Igor's tongue when he agreed with Victor, made his empty part whole, gave him incite in the ways that their experiments could work. Usually they sank in defeat when they lost pieces they needed, body parts that Victor sometimes returns to the flat with, spouting out nonsensical excuses so Igor won't figure out where he really got them from. Igor isn't stupid, and Victor doesn't relay the information if Igor doesn't confront him on the subject. That's where their boundary of ignorance begins, a compromise that would surely hunt them down in the future, but the present is what Victor is truly fixated on. The present that would grant him completion of his future projects, crafted from his dreams.
Victor drops his pen and tilts his head, lying flat on his arms while looking at Igor's sleeping face.
The bones protruded against his thin chalky skin as if they were trying to escape Igor's warm flesh that was once abused. A sickness in survival, of loneliness and starvation for complete utter elation that Victor handed to him in exchange for help and companionship.
His lips parted, breathing evenly, unknowingly peaceful that it calms Victor down, dampens his wild thoughts as he moves closer. Their bodies touching just slightly as he wraps and arm through Igor's and pulls him against his chest.
Igor mutters something that Victor couldn't comprehend as he nuzzles his face in Igor's hair.
His creation, built from that abandoned place that tried to ruin him, hands that drew upon parchment of ideas spilling from his brilliant mind. How dare those people insult a man like Igor, humiliate and shove him to the ground with no idea that Igor was one of a kind in a sea of millions.
He was grateful that he could meet a man like Igor, that in the loneliness of his flat that was filled with his machinery and inventions, Igor made it all seem more than it was when he was alone.
Victor closed his eyes, pressing Igor tighter until he felt the thudding of Igor's heart against his own.
His creation made whole, a success in so many ways.
He prided on Igor to stay the way he is, alive and well, close to Victor's proximity, where he could hear Igor's voice, his thoughts on the inventions, the only one who understood as much as Victor himself. A kindred spirit so vast and rare, he would be an idiot to let this particular person go to waste in the world.
Victor slept with those thoughts that pooled in the recesses of his mind. He dreamed of storms and a howling sea, Igor in the midst of lightning, blood sank to the rough wet stone as something heavily built with clammy skin stepped in the light of the shattering sky.
He jolted awake once Igor's body tumbled to the ground, face streaked with blood, and no life glinted from his eyes.
Victor sat up, heart beating in his chest as he looked to his right to find Igor with a chalk in his hand, drawing the diagram he had abandoned. The paper was filled by Igor's writing, while the larger diagram of their creation was barely set in the wood.
Brows furrowed, he dropped the chalk and crawled toward him. "Are you okay?"
Always so patient, vulnerable for Victor's well being. He made him smile, even when the dream unsettled him.
"I'm fine," he said, getting to his feet and stretching his arms. "Coffee?"
"Should be done soon," Igor said, smiling, unaware as Victor pulled him into an embrace he couldn't repress.
"Victor?" Igor said into his shoulder after a long moment, "are you okay?"
"I'm fine," he repeated, breathing in chalk and the lingering scent of coffee grounds in Igor's hair.
Igor relaxed against Victor. "If I known you were going to have a nightmare, I would have stayed sleeping with you."
Victor grinned, pulling back and admiring his young creation. "No, it's good you woke before me and started on the diagram. I'd stay on that floor with you in my arms, avoiding work for your comfort, my dear friend." He tapped the tip of Igor's nose.
"Better work than comfort," Igor said, something Victor knew was true, once before when he was alone. He'd choose work over the affection of others, he did not care to be liked, to relish friendship when in truth the friends he'd make would be nothing but tools for his creations. Thrown away when they served their purpose. He knew it was cruel, but all in the name of a grand future, Victor would destroy anyone to get what he wants.
He turned and walked straight to Igor; taking his arm before Igor could crouch down and start on the diagram.
His brows furrowed, brought back on his feet. "Victor?"
Victor smiled, bits of the wall where he shoved all unnecessary feelings were beginning to crack. "Let's go out."
"What about the diagram, we're not done," Igor said as Victor dragged him toward the the door.
"We'll get back to it, Igor," Victor said, letting his emotions breathe as that wall crumbled inside of him, "right now, I'm thinking some place fancy…maybe secluded. A book store, or even one of those small coffee shops, a place with a table and minimum people." He grabbed his coat and notebooks, pen clipped on the side.
Igor followed after with his own coat "And the coffee?"
"It'll be here when we return," Victor said, holding the door open.
"It'll be cold."
"Good deduction, let's go," Victor said as Igor passed under his arm with a raised brow.
Victor did not look back when he closed the door, he let his emotions spin inside of him, all those reasoning's simmer under the weight for the affection toward his friend. An affection he did not name, but acknowledged as something profound as his work and he would honor it and understand it, and he would continue to work at it as much as he worked on their creation.
One day soon both will come to fruition, all it takes is ambition and work to realize a dream.
fin.
Notes: My summary got a bit descriptive than usual. :/ Don't mind that. Hehe~
Anyway, I only watched Victor Frankenstein once, and skimmed the second time. I enjoy Victor's fierce ambition, his tactless way of wanting to prove to people that his work is the future, and that he's desperate and passionate. I love this character a lot. Igor is similar, such a different variation that he holds Victor together in all his steep declarations of madness and brilliance.
I don't think I portrayed it as well, but I was in a writing mood and I wanted to write this story. :) I do ship them, and unfortunately there aren't many fics of them, but oh wells.
Also, it's short... hehe~ I like it how it is.
I don't write smut. Sorry.
I hoped you enjoyed. :)
