Opia: The ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable.
The words escaped Victor's lips deliberately as he looked at Igor: "From this day forth, you are to be my partner."
Blue eyes met blue eyes and it seemed an eternity before either man moved or spoke. Victor wondered if Igor hadn't heard him, but the way Igor's wide eyes lit from inside was more than enough to tell Victor that he had been heard. How many times before now had they locked eyes? How many times had Victor excitedly grabbed Igor by the face and pulled him in so that their foreheads might touch? They had been close before, much closer than this, and yet there was something both terrifying and riveting about this moment. Here was a man who had had no prospects in life less than a year ago. Less than a year ago, in fact, he had had no hopes of standing upright, doing great scientific work, amounting to more than a circus freak. Knowing all this as Igor's eyes widened made Victor feel terribly intrusive. He could not read minds – no man could – but he would have sworn he could see the parade of Igor's previous life and the months preceding this moment play out as the other realized just how much his world was changing.
But as for Victor, he knew that his own eyes held emotion. Intense emotion. And it frightened him. Frightened him to think that Igor could read him just as easily. Read all the excitement, hope, fear, and dare he say yearning in Victor's eyes. Surely the emotions swam up into his gaze. Surely Igor knew in this moment, if he had not known before how much he mattered… How much he mattered to a man who had not cared for another person in over a decade. It made Victor feel small, despite his proud stance, and see through. He wondered if Igor knew the very depths to which Victor cared for him. He wondered if Igor could even guess what he meant not only to their enterprise, but to the man who had given him a name and a home and a purpose in life. Victor had thought Igor would be nothing more than a means to an end… But perhaps Kant was right. Perhaps people – certainly Igor – were ends in themselves.
A sharp gasp finally escaped Igor's lips. Realization. A smile.
But not understanding. Not full, true understanding.
Victor broke eye contact first.
"We have a busy day ahead of us," he said in his brusque way, walking towards the stairs. "Presentation is in Hall H, eight o'clock sharp and there's much to do before then. I suggest you get some rest."
He was at the top of the stairs, ready to fling the cellar doors open, when he heard Igor's voice call out from the bottom of the steps.
"Victor!"
Victor paused, but could not bring himself to turn around. Could not bring himself to meet Igor's eyes once more.
"Thank you," Igor said in that quiet, awed, and breathy way of his. That innocent voice so unlike Victor's that it astounded him every time thatthis was the man who had become his closest confidant. Still, Victor allowed himself a secret smile.
"Good night, Igor," he said. "I shall see you in the morning."