Work Text:
Victor writes his letters to Aesop in between matches, sitting in the manor library with only Wick and musty books to keep him company. The library smells old like dust and long-forgotten dreams, and when Wick sneezes, Victor pats his head.
"I'm almost done," he says as Wick stretches out beneath his hand. "Then we can talk a walk outside. Would you like that?"
Wick whines softly before nuzzling his head against Victor's knee, who continues writing his letter, trying to keep his thoughts brief: Stay safe. If you need anything, just write it down and give it to Wick. I'm here for you.
It's simple and doesn't beg for a reply — not unless Aesop ends up needing something, which he never has. Although he hopes the day never comes when Aesop will be in such a bind that he needs Victor's help, he'd still enjoy that rush of feeling useful.
Exchanging letters for the survivors is a service he is happy to provide, even when he isn't able to see anyone's excited expression; he just has the hum of the cipher machines and the soft breath of the wind against his neck to keep him company while Wick is off on a delivery.
Aesop is quiet like Victor is, but whenever he sees his eyes they seem sad — maybe a little lost. He wants to see what's beneath Aesop's mask: what he holds dear, what he fears, what drives him.
Victor wants to know his story — where he's come from, who he's been — and in turn, he wants Aesop to know his own story, too. Out of everyone Victor has met at the manor, Aesop is the only one he feels he can trust with such intimacy. Sometimes in between matches, all he wants is to curl up with Wick in front of the fireplace as Aesop tinkers with his embalming supplies or even just sits there with nothing to preoccupy him but the crackling of the fire.
Even encased in silence, Victor enjoys their time together. His voice never comes easily, not with anyone other than Wick, but when he's with Aesop, he wants to try. He wants him to know that there's nothing wrong with his aversion to people, no matter how he's treated by others. That aversion is a shield. Victor just wants him to know that he can be at ease around him, and if not now then someday. He doesn't talk much, and he isn't pushy. He's just Victor, with his big heart and careful words, and he thinks Aesop can understand that.
Aesop is so secretive during matches, keeping to himself so that he can focus better. He knows his strengths, and Victor appreciates that.
But then comes the day that Aesop doesn't shy away from him, even allowing him to help decode the same machine. Anxiety courses through Victor, winding his stomach into knots, but there's another sensation too as his skin erupts with goosebumps at the closeness. He can't remember the last time he's been this close to anyone.
Gray eyes bore into him with curiosity, not unkindly. Their eyes meet and Victor isn't sure what to do. He knows he received his latest letter declaring his well wishes since Wick returned empty-handed the last time he sent him out. Then Aesop surprises him by pulling his mask down, showing him his smile, and Victor can't find the words to express how such a gesture makes his heart race.
Midst the madness and chaos of the game, there is Aesop's smile, the smallest of grins, and to Victor, that means everything.