Work Text:
Jayce is more handsome in person.
Naph notes this in a disaffected kind of way- the way that old women call kids handsome young boys and girls. The camera angles make him look fake, and he probably has to wear a lot of makeup too. He’s pretty on TV but he kind of looks like an alien. Uncanny. Like someone painted makeup on the tendril of an alien plant and it was attempting to hunt stupid teenage college students, and okay, maybe Naph should stop watching Viktor’s horror movie collection.
He holds a headshot he’d purchased from a convenient desk set up in his hands like a plane boarding pass– with a certain kind of restrained necessity. Like he’s trying to escape the country before the police catch up and drag him in front of a tribunal and okay maybe all of Viktor’s movies were giving him nightmares. Maybe he should watch different movies.
He waits in line patiently, trying to rehearse what he was going to say. He didn’t really have to say anything. Just be normal. Just be another kid in this line. Tell him that you’re a big fan. Get the picture signed. Give it to Viktor for his birthday. Easy.
Easy.
He gets up to the desk, and Jayce smiles at him, and he says-
“Who should I make this out to.”
“Viktor.” Naph says.
Jayce stares at him.
Naph stares back.
“Is–” Jayce says, a little halting, and Naph notes with a certain degree of satisfaction that he’s much less pretty when he’s startled, “–is that your name?”
“No.” Naph says. “Will you sign the picture, please?”
Jayce opens and closes his mouth.
And then he signs the picture.
–-
Naph’s plan to sneak back into the house without Viktor noticing is disturbed when he gets home. Viktor is waiting in the front hall. He’s gotten his wheelchair instead of the big giant clunky robotic braces for his legs, which is absolutely not a good sign, and he has his fingers steepled. Naph suspects that he’s been sitting there, in that exact position, for multiple hours.
He raises his eyebrows.
Naph doesn’t wait for the question, he just drops his backpack off his shoulders and pulls the envelope with the photo in it out and holds it out.
“Happy birthday.” He says.
“–my birthday isn’t for a week.” Viktor says, blankly, but he takes the envelope and opens it. He freezes up, staring at it.
Naph clears his throat. “Yours was old.” he says, sticking his hands in his pockets. “He has gray hair now.”
“Does he?” Viktor asks, quietly. Naph can’t tell what he’s feeling from his voice.
“Yeah.” Naph says. “I think the photo’s a little edited. It’s at his temples and kinda mixed in. He probably dyes it.”
“He’s been dyeing it since we were young. Started getting streaks early, same as I did.”
Viktor neatly closes the envelope, and clears his throat.
“I was worried.” he says. “The next time you go out for a while, can you write a note for me on the fridge first? If you can’t– get my attention.”
Naph had tried to stick his head into the lab, and he thinks Viktor probably knows that too. Naph nods.
“I can do that.” he says, rolling on his heels. “Can you teach me how to make cake? I’m gonna burn the first one, but maybe in a week i’ll get it right.”
Viktor’s lips twitch up in what’s actually close to a smile.
“Of course.” he says.
Naph follows him into the kitchen, thinking– this is enough. He’d done okay.
And scaring the shit out of Jayce had been really really funny. So no losses.
He manages to restrain the curiosity a while- it’s kind of routine now. Ingredients, bowl, try to remember the steps Viktor’s skipping and skin the recipe mostly for the bits Viktor’s missing (baking soda, this time), preheat the oven. He’s about to break, though, has almost formed a question when Viktor speaks–
“Did you tell him who it was for?”
“...Kinda.” Naph admits, half feeling like he’s done something wrong. “I just told him to make it out to Viktor, but he reacted to the name and I don’t think I really played it off.”
“...How did he react?”
Naph mulls, tries to put words to the facial expression Jayce made.
“He looked constipated.”
Viktor laughs, creaky, but loud and real, and Naph grins a little.
“He looked really stupid.” he continues, “like there was a dog biting his ankle under the table and he was trying to play it off. Or like he’d eaten something really spicy.”
“He’s gotten worse at that.” Viktor says, looking fond. “He used to be a really good liar.”
“...yeah?” Naph prompts, as he adds cocoa when Viktor isn’t looking. Viktor doesn’t seem to notice.
“It was like–” Viktor snaps his fingers. “How fast he put the face on. I’d turn around and he’d have a completely different affect. He used to hate people. Probably still does. So he’d have to pretend he could stand them. All our supervisors and our teachers loved him. Probably had no idea how much he loathed them.”
“Why’d he hate them? Were they awful?”
“Sometimes.” Viktor muses. “But he was also a deeply unpleasant person. So was I.”
Naph bites down a joke about the past tense.
“But you liked him.”
“Of course. We were...compatible kinds of awful. We fit together. It made sense. Until it didn’t.”
Viktor’s tone on the last words are so final that Naph decides not to push it. He just adds more sugar to the batter, quickly, when Viktor turns to check the oven.
“Can I make the icing?” he asks.
“Of course.”
Maybe he could find things out like this, Naph thinks. Just...a little at a time. It’s enough.