Chapter Text
Viktor lays in bed, softly groaning at each movement he makes as he tosses and turns. He aches deep in his bones, the kind of aching that’s impossible to ignore. Days like these are becoming more and more frequent. It’s keeping him away from the lab, away from one of the joys of his life, more often every month.
Every moment he thinks he’s comfortable Viktor finds himself too hot and kicks off his blanket, but then the next moment freezing cold and curling himself up in it again. This indecision of body temperature and having to readjust himself constantly aggravates him, both mentally and physically. Each time he removes the blanket his toes become freezing cold to the point of being painful, but then when he replaces it he feels sweaty and all too warm.
That's just the beginning of the problems. His head throbs at every movement he makes, and he can feel his pulse through his neck and into his chest, beating against his ribcage and pulling in excessive air from his lungs. Every time he takes a deep breath it gets caught, and he has to cough in order to breathe back out. His back hurts, and any time he tries to sit up for a drink of water he’s forced to lay back down due to the excruciating pain.
It’s all just so much, and so frustrating. His mind is moving so much faster than he can get down on paper. With how much he writes he can almost ignore the numbness that spreads through his fingers at the end of the day. Almost. Until the numbness subsides, giving way to pain in his wrist and fingers.
As he lays there so many thoughts are running unwritten through his head. So many great ideas and projects he will never be able to see through to the end. He could barely make half of them come to fruition anyways in his state, even on a good day.
A wave of nausea flows through him from the pain, and he has to focus on breathing to avoid throwing up the very little amount he has in his stomach. He covers his eyes with his hands, his whole body shaking.
He doesn’t hear the door slowly creak open. He doesn’t hear the gentle footsteps taken towards him. However, he does notice the pressure of a hand on the edge of the bed. He moves his hands and blinks a few times to bring his vision into focus. He sees Jayce, kneeling at his bedside.
“Hey bedhead,” Jayce runs his fingers through Viktor’s hair. Viktor groans, unable to differentiate between pain and pleasure. “Oh, sorry,” Jayce removes his hand, setting it on the bed next to Viktor. Viktor places a hand on top of his, and squeezes it so softly that if you weren’t paying attention you wouldn’t have noticed.
Jayce noticed. Jayce noticed many things. He noticed how hard Viktor had been pushing himself this week. He had noticed how restless Viktor had been while sitting and writing in his notebooks. He had watched as Viktor got up and paced the room in thought, despite the pain it caused him. Now, he notices how full Viktor’s glass of water is that sits on the bedside table. Notices how the bread left next to it only has one nibble taken out of it. How the blankets on the bed are in disarray, partially on top of Viktor and partially tossed away. How pillows ended up scattered across the bed. The streaks across Viktor’s cheeks that end in a wet spot on the pillow under his head. The way Viktor is trying to control his breathing and struggling. He sees it all. He doesn’t point out his worries to Viktor. He knows it makes Viktor feel self conscious. So he just lets it be, supporting where he can.
“Vik, we have to at least get some water in you,” Jayce says.
“I suppose.. You are right,” Viktor groans as he sits up the best he can. Jayce helps him, rearranging the pillows beneath him to give him more stability before helping Viktor with the heavy cup of water. Viktor drinks well, grateful for the help. Viktor pauses to grab the bread and takes the smallest nibble that Jayce has ever seen, only to place it back on the table with eyebrows furrowed in frustration. He chooses to drink some more water before Jayce helps him lay back down how he initially was.
Viktor closes his eyes, his breathing short and shallow. Jayce gently takes his hand. “Breathe Viktor, it’s okay.” Viktor takes a deep breath, only to have coughing rack his entire body. He groans in pain, his whole body aching. “Good job, just keep trying.” There’s not much Jayce can offer besides his company. He watches as Viktor tries to move his back, to maybe stretch it or reposition, but Viktor concedes, choosing to stay uncomfortable because there is seemingly no way to fix it. Jayce thinks for a moment.
“Do you mind if I try something? I’d have to lay in the bed with you,” Jayce asks tentatively.
“Can’t be much worse, go ahead,” Viktor’s voice is barely louder than a whisper.
Jayce carefully climbs into bed next to Viktor, and sidles up next to him so that they are spooning. Viktor adjusts to let Jayce slide his arms around his waist. Viktor leans his back into Jayce, the support and warmth of his strong body caressing him. Jayce wraps his arms around Viktor, cold and fragile, afraid that too much could break Viktor. Viktor curls up, small like a child, hugging Jayce’s arm.
Jayce’s warmth and strength are comforting. Jayce smells of ink, smoke and cinnamon. Such comforting smells, because they are him. They are the way Jayce smells. Having that envelope Viktor calms him. It brings his attention away from the pain long enough for him to drift away into a much needed sleep.