Summer was still chuckling softly on the couch, her thumbs pausing over her screen every so often like she couldn't stop replaying what she'd just heard. Beth, now scooping eggs onto plates, wore a rare trace of a smile. Not one of those tense, maternal curves forced between meetings and surgical schedules but something real, almost entertained.
Jerry, on the other hand, had turned his attention back to the paper. Or pretended to. The rustling was louder now defensive, jittery. He wasn't reading. Just moving pages like a man trying to bury himself under headlines.
Morty—Viktor—remained silent. Not smug. Not victorious. Just present. Leaning against the kitchen counter with one foot crossed over the other, holding the chipped ceramic mug with two fingers like it was glass stemware. He didn't slouch. Didn't fidget. His posture alone made him feel out of place in his own skin too composed, too centered to be Morty.
Beth placed a plate near him, nudging it forward with the side of a spatula.
"Here you go, hon. Hope you're hungry."
He looked down at the plate eggs, toast, and what looked like a sausage patty that had lost its will to live. Still, he nodded appreciatively.
"Thanks, Mom," he said, with just the right weight. The word landed softer than he intended, but not awkward. More... practiced. Beth blinked, surprised,Happy but said nothing. Just gave him a quick beautiful smile, then turned back to the stove.
He sat, finally, folding himself into the chair with deliberate ease. The way a man sat down in a room he'd already memorized. He picked up a fork, twirled it once between his fingers, then took a small bite.
Salt was too heavy. The toast was uneven. But it was warm.
"Something wrong, sweetie?" Beth asked over her shoulder, noticing the slight pause.
Morty looked up slowly and met her eyes.
"No," he said. "It's good. Just...different today."
She looked at him again longer this time. Not suspicious. Just... curious. Then nodded and went back to her pan.
He glanced over at Summer.
She was watching him. Not directly through the reflection on her phone screen. One brow slightly raised. Like she wasn't sure what felt different but had already filed it under weird. Viktor offered no expression. Just kept eating, methodically.
And Jerry? Still fumbling with the paper.
"You know," Morty said casually between bites, not even looking at him, "if you hold it any tighter, it's going to file for a restraining order."
The page tore slightly in Jerry's grip.
Summer burst out laughing again, almost snorting this time.
Beth didn't even try to hide her grin. "Morty, honestly what's gotten into you this morning?"
He looked down at his plate, then back up with a small, disarming shrug.
"Guess I'm just... waking up."
The words were simple. Harmless. But Viktor watched the effect ripple through the room how the weight of them hung for a second too long.
Summer turned her head fully now, squinting.
"You didn't hit your head or anything, right? You sound like someone gave you a personality transplant."
Morty met her gaze, steady and unreadable.
"Wouldn't that be something."
He didn't smile. But Summer blinked. Looked away first.
The silence stretched, filled only by the sound of clinking forks and the soft hum of the kitchen light.
And in that silence, Morty no, Viktor settled further into the body. Into the house. Into the space.
A predator behind teenage eyes.
And no one not even the ones who shared his blood knew a new player had entered the room.
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YO guys what's up if your enjoying this now your gonna enjoy this even more😏
So drop a stone and comment so l know your interested in the story and l am not writing to ghost
Love ya ❤️