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It had been a few years, or a few decades. Viktor wasn’t sure anymore. He was too tired, too full of the sappy romance bludgeoned into his skull by Jayce. He was going grey and finally satisfied; not with his work (never with his work), but with himself. He was old and bursting with love, and he was exhausted of the fight that had fueled his fervor in the old days.
His wide-eyed idealization had burned bright within his chest, carrying him through the sludge of failure to the temple of madness he’d sequestered himself in, letting the ghosts of Zaun whisper into his ear. The dead, filled with worms, dug themselves into his brain. It was true, he’d almost lost himself completely in his fantasies. But that was the past, and he was much more modest and tolerable in his mentions of “glorious” and “evolution” in the same breath now. Love had toiled away in his heart, mellowing him out almost completely.
The entirety of his being had been about destroying everything that gave him humanity and implanting a loveless, emotionless corpse in its place. It was also true that he’d almost succeeded; almost his whole body could be decommissioned by a big enough magnet. It was something Jayce brought up constantly to mock him, and something that allowed Jayce to win this one argument (he would loathe to admit that Jayce’s letter magnets were endearing). Luckily, his heart retained its ability to cause extreme turmoil over Jayce Giopara after he’d augmented most of it to keep himself from an early grave.
Now, he was a dignified old man with very few health problems and a husband that grew more and more comfortable with the idea of a metal arm if it meant no arthritis. Things were going swimmingly, he believed. His cauterized heart muscle beat strongly in his steel chest for a handsome fool he’d loved since he knew what it meant to do so. His thinly veiled adoration swept through his veins and into his very movements, and he was finally okay with the openness required to love Jayce. It was something he could sacrifice, his propriety, if it meant living in the happiness he’d so grievously denied both himself and Jayce. In his young days of enthusiastically cutting and snipping what he could reach, he nearly severed everything that was integral. But life was meant to be lived, and he’d learned.
For the first time in a long time, Viktor allowed peace to permeate his skin and filter his brain through a fuzzy haze. He sat, inundated with the sunshine of Piltover. When you give up your humanity, there is no promise of blood pumping, no promise of integrity of the body; it was a gamble, a swing and a miss. To breathe easy was no small feat, but it was one he’d achieved through the goading of Jayce to step into the light, clear skies and enjoy a single day of his life.
“Who knew the Machine Herald could survive being out in the sun?” Jayce mused, full of mirth. Viktor stretched his arms up, folding them behind his head.
“Two decades later and you’re still bringing it up. Tell me, do you happen to hold grudges?”
Jayce pretended to think, tapping his chin. “I don’t believe I do, darling.” He dramatically swept his hair to the side. His temples were grey.
“You certainly are unbiased,” Viktor jested. He made a show of fanning himself. “It’s what makes you so attractive.”
“Ha ha. You know, for everything you’ve done, your worst crime is your terrible jokes.”
Viktor scoffed. “I know for a fact you fell in love with my witticisms and shining personality.” He turned his face back towards the sun.
“I take it back, Vik. That joke was good.” Jayce heaved himself on top of Viktor in his chair. “But yes, unfortunately, I did fall for your personality.” He squeezed a metal bicep. “And your bangin’ bod.”
“I’m blushing,” Viktor deadpanned. But he didn’t shove Jayce off, instead allowing their breathing to sync up as warmth passed between them. It felt special, when it was Jayce sharing his space; it had always been different, existing around him in the kind of way that called for heightened attention and the occasional shared yearning glances. Jayce inspired a zeal in Viktor, one that could’ve ended either of them at any time. That still could, if he was honest. “Jayce.” It was important, all of a sudden, to say his name. Feeling his name on his tongue was a gift given to him willingly, always allowed and actively encouraged. It was like drinking from the garden of Eden. “Will you hold me?”
Viktor was not used to expressing his needs, and he was less used to them being fulfilled. “Of course, my love,” Jayce murmured. Flesh encapsulated Viktor’s steel. He knew, then, an epiphany, that no path could take him away from Jayce Giopara. Every road led to him, every instance of anger quelled by Jayce’s humanity and every moment of happiness a direct link. Every moment of silencing emotion, every instance of schooling his expression had led to him weeping, right now, in Jayce’s arms. Humanity was an ever-enduring trait, he’d surmised, so it was best to let it run its course.
“I love you,” Viktor mumbled into his chest. And it was true; he had to love Jayce, like a dying star must light up the sky. “I love you so much.” There was no space for quips, for a deflection from either of the men.
“I love you, Viktor. I’ve never stopped.” Normally, a swap of declarations would exhaust Viktor and spend up the emotional vulnerability he saved up for Jayce on any given day. Today, however, it felt different; today, he felt like the supernova rather than the dead star. It felt like sinking into his skin, the kind of feeling he thought he’d shirked himself of when he’d cut off his limbs. This was the feeling of going home, of his body settling down for eternity next to Jayce Giopara. It was worth the agony he’d endured, because this? This felt good.