Chapter 3 Dust and Sketchbooks #2
Still, he found himself heading that way anyway.
The farther he walked, the quieter the camp became.
Most workers remained near the housing section during evenings.
Few people ventured toward the maintenance area unless they had a reason.
The sun hung low on the horizon, painting everything in shades of gold and orange.
Dust floated through the warm air.
The entire camp seemed softer somehow.
Less intimidating.
More human.
Ahead, Viktor disappeared around one of the storage buildings.
Elias quickened his pace slightly.
When he rounded the corner moments later, he immediately stopped.
The scene before him wasn't what he expected.
A worker sat on an overturned crate beside the maintenance shed.
One of his pant legs had been rolled up to reveal an ugly injury near the ankle.
The skin was swollen.
Red.
Clearly painful.
Viktor knelt beside him.
For several seconds, Elias simply stared.
The image felt strangely unreal.
This wasn't the Viktor most people saw.
Not the intimidating giant covered in tattoos.
Not the worker everyone respected and occasionally feared.
This version was entirely different.
Patient.
Focused.
Gentle.
A small medical kit sat open beside him.
The injured laborer winced as Viktor examined the ankle.
"You should've reported this yesterday."
The worker shrugged.
"It wasn't that bad."
"It is now."
"I needed the hours."
Viktor muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a curse.
The laborer laughed.
Apparently he was used to it.
Elias remained partially hidden behind the corner of the building.
Not intentionally.
At least not anymore.
Interrupting felt wrong.
What he was witnessing seemed private.
Important.
Viktor carefully cleaned the injury before applying fresh bandages.
His large hands moved with surprising precision.
Every action seemed practiced.
Experienced.
The laborer watched him work.
"You missed your calling."
Viktor snorted.
"No."
"You would've made a good medic."
"No."
"A nurse, maybe."
That earned the injured man a glare.
The laborer laughed harder.
Even Viktor's expression softened slightly.
Not enough to qualify as a smile.
But close.
Very close.
Elias found himself smiling anyway.
The interaction felt natural.
Comfortable.
The kind shared between people who genuinely trusted each other.
When Viktor finished, he leaned back slightly.
"Stay off it tomorrow."
The worker immediately shook his head.
"Can't."
"You can."
"They need me."
"They'll survive one day."
The laborer opened his mouth to argue.
Viktor cut him off.
"I'm not asking."
The authority in his voice ended the discussion instantly.
The worker rolled his eyes.
"Fine."
"Good."
"You're bossy."
"You're stubborn."
Both men looked entirely familiar with the exchange.
The realization struck Elias unexpectedly.
Workers trusted Viktor.
Not because they were afraid of him.
Because he took care of them.
That was different.
Very different.
The reputation surrounding Viktor suddenly made more sense.
People respected him because he earned it.
Not through intimidation.
Through loyalty.
A few minutes later, the injured laborer stood carefully.
After testing his weight, he nodded approvingly.
"Thanks."
Viktor shrugged.
The gratitude seemed to embarrass him.
"Go eat."
The worker laughed again before heading toward camp.
Silence settled over the maintenance yard.
For a moment, Viktor remained where he was.
Staring toward the sunset.
Lost in thought.
Elias should have left.
He knew that.
Instead, he accidentally stepped on a loose piece of gravel.
The sound echoed loudly.
Viktor turned instantly.
Years of construction work had clearly sharpened his instincts.
His eyes locked onto Elias.
For one awkward second, neither moved.
Elias considered pretending he had just arrived.
Unfortunately, the expression on Viktor's face suggested he wouldn't believe that.
"How long have you been standing there?"
The question wasn't angry.
Just direct.
Elias winced.
"Long enough."
Viktor sighed heavily.
The reaction made him look older somehow.
More tired.
Slowly, he stood.
The movement emphasized just how much larger he was than almost everyone else.
Including Elias.
Especially Elias.
The height difference remained unfair.
"I wasn't spying."
Viktor raised an eyebrow.
"You were hiding behind a building."
"When you say it like that, it sounds bad."
"Because it is bad."
Despite the words, amusement briefly flashed in Viktor's eyes.
Elias noticed.
Apparently, so did Viktor.
The older man looked away almost immediately.
"You should head back."
"Probably."
Neither moved.
The evening air remained warm.
Somewhere in the distance, workers laughed near the housing trailers.
The camp felt peaceful.
For once.
Elias glanced toward the medical kit.
"I didn't know you carried that around."
Viktor followed his gaze.
"Someone has to."
The answer sounded simple.
But it wasn't.
Elias understood that now.
Someone had to help injured workers.
Someone had to fix broken equipment.
Someone had to make sure people were okay.
And somehow Viktor had quietly taken responsibility for all of it.
Not because it was his job.
Because he cared.
The realization settled deeply inside him.
Until now, Elias had mostly seen fragments of Viktor.
The intimidating reputation.
The tattoos.
The rough voice.
The guarded personality.
Today he had seen something else.
Something far more important.
Kindness.
Not the loud kind people performed for attention.
The quiet kind.
The kind that showed up after long workdays.
The kind that bandaged injuries and checked on struggling workers when nobody else bothered.
The kind that expected nothing in return.
For the first time since arriving at camp, Elias felt like he was beginning to understand the man behind the reputation.
And what he discovered made him want to know even more.
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