Work Text:
The lab was eerily silent now, the hum of machinery and the occasional flicker of the Hextech crystals doing nothing to fill the aching void that Viktor’s absence left behind. Jayce stood motionless at the center of it all, his shoulders slumped under the weight of his loss, his breath shallow and uneven. The coldness of the space seemed more present now, as though Viktor’s departure had stolen the last remnants of warmth from the room.
Jayce stood in the center of the room, staring at the workbench where so much of their history had been built. The Hextech crystal stabilizer, now in its final form, was gleaming under the sterile light, but it didn’t feel like a victory.
In the early days, this lab had been a place of possibility. Of shared dreams. He could still hear Viktor’s voice in his mind, teasing him about being too much of an idealist, pulling him back when his ambitions grew too large. We could change the world, together, they had said. Together. That word echoed louder than anything now, as if mocking him for the betrayal he’d committed.
The memories flooded him in waves: Viktor’s quiet, calculating gaze as they worked side by side, his voice when they’d stayed up late together, discussing theory, asking questions, dreaming of what they could achieve. Viktor had never needed much from Jayce; at least, not in the ways other people did. But Jayce had always admired that quiet strength, the way Viktor never seemed to doubt them, never wavered. Jayce had taken that for granted.
And now Viktor was somewhere in Zaun, or maybe even further still, lost to him entirely. And here he was, in the same lab, surrounded by the same machines, but it felt hollow. Empty.
Jayce sat down heavily in the chair at the workbench, his elbows resting on the table, head in his hands. The ache in his chest had become unbearable. He couldn’t undo the past.
Jayce's olive eyes wandered aimlessly, as if searching for something, anything, that could bring him back to the man who had just walked out of his life. That’s when his gaze fell onto it: a small, crumpled pack of cigarettes, discarded near the edge of one of the workbenches.
For a moment, his stomach twisted. The sight of it felt like a ghost from their shared past, a vivid memory clawing its way to the surface. Viktor had always been quiet about it, the way he would light a cigarette with a faint tremor in his hand, leaning against the far side of the lab when the stress became too much. Always close to the window so it wouldn’t bother or be noticed.
Jayce had scolded him more than once, worried it would worsen his already frail health. Viktor would only smile faintly, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before replying in that dry, sardonic tone: “We all need a vice, Jayce. This one is just mine.”
Now, with Viktor gone, the pack felt like a piece of him left behind; something Viktor had touched, held, something tied to a version of him that still lingered here, even if only faintly. Jayce’s chest tightened as his eyes stayed locked on the pack.
Almost without thinking, he stepped closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as if drawn by invisible strings. His hand reached out hesitantly, trembling as his fingers brushed against the crinkled paper. The sensation was surreal, like holding onto something forbidden, something that wasn’t his to take. He had never smoked, never even considered it. Yet now, the faint scent of tobacco clinging to the pack was enough to twist the knife in his chest, dragging him back into memories of Viktor.
Jayce sank into the chair by the workbench, turning the pack over in his hands. His thumb ran along its edges, his mind conjuring the image of Viktor standing in his usual spot, his head bent in thought as he drew on a cigarette. Jayce could see the way Viktor’s hair caught the light, the dark strands curling slightly where the tips brushed his forehead. In his mind, his posture was the same as always, rigid, controlled, but there was a softening in the way his shoulders slouched just the slightest bit, a quiet tiredness that spoke volumes more than words ever could.
The cigarette hung between Viktor's fingers, the tip glowing faintly as the smoke wafted up in slow spirals. Viktor's expression was distant, eyes half-lidded as he gazed out of the window, lost in thought. Jayce couldn’t help but notice the way Viktor’s features softened when he was deep in thought like this. His lips, usually pressed into a line of concentration, were now slightly parted, allowing the smoke to escape in a gentle puff.
The way the smoke curled around him, how it seemed to reflect the shadows in his eyes. How Jayce used to wave the smoke away, muttering something about bad habits, only for Viktor to quip back with a knowing smirk.
Now, there was no one to wave it away for. No one to fill the silence.
His breath hitched as the memory hit him harder than he expected, the full force of his heartbreak crashing over him like a wave. Viktor wasn’t just gone from the lab, he was gone from his life. And the realization felt unbearable. The yearning was suffocating, an ache that burrowed deeper with every passing second. He wanted to hear Viktor’s voice again, see the glimmer of brilliance in his golden eyes. He wanted to hold him one last time, to undo every mistake that had led them here. But there was nothing left except this, the cigarettes and the emptiness.
Almost on instinct, Jayce pulled one from the pack. His fingers fumbled awkwardly with the lighter he found next to it, its metallic clink echoing in the quiet room. As the flame danced, he hesitated, staring at the cigarette’s unlit tip. He didn’t even know how to do this, and yet he felt compelled. Like this small, reckless act would somehow bring him closer to Viktor, as if inhaling the smoke would let him taste even the smallest piece of his presence again.
Finally, he lit it, the paper catching with a soft sizzle. Jayce brought it to his lips, inhaling clumsily, and immediately coughed, the acrid burn scratching at his throat. It was awful, bitter and harsh, but he didn’t care. He took another drag, slower this time, letting the smoke curl into his lungs more controlled.
For a moment, he closed his eyes, pretending that Viktor was still here, leaning against the wall, quietly sharing the space with him. That they could go back to when it was just the two of them; before the council, before the politics, before everything fell apart. But when he opened his eyes, the lab was still empty, the cold still biting, and his heart still broken.
Jayce exhaled shakily, the smoke curling upwards and disappearing into the void above, much like Viktor had vanished into the unknown. The cigarette trembled between his fingers as tears spilled freely down his face. The scent of tobacco lingered, but all it did was deepen the ache in his chest. He had reached for this small fragment of Viktor, only to realize it wasn’t enough. Nothing would ever be enough.
The smoke curled around Jayce like a phantom embrace, its tendrils wrapping him in an almost cruel imitation of Viktor’s presence. It didn’t feel the same. It barely felt like Viktor at all. The warmth, the wit, it was all absent, replaced by this cold, acrid sensation that stung at his throat and chest, making him cough as his lungs rejected what his mind clung to.
But even through the burn, the faintest trace of something familiar lingered in the air. That scent, sharp and smoky, edged with a metallic tang, had always clung to Viktor. It used to frustrate Jayce, the way the smell would seep into their shared workspace, into their late nights, into Viktor himself. Yet now, it was almost comforting, like finding an old sweater still carrying a loved one’s scent. Comforting and cruel. A fragment of the man who was now gone.
Jayce leaned back in the cold lab chair, his eyes fixed on the darkened window. The soft glow blue glow of a Hextech crystal in the corner flickered like a star about to burn out. His fingers trembled slightly as they held the cigarette, its ember pulsing faintly with every unsteady drag. Each inhale scratched at his throat, the burn grounding him in a way that nothing else could. His coughing fits came in uneven bursts, echoing in the empty lab, a harsh reminder of his own weakness, both physical and emotional. He wondered, his mind grasping at the question through the haze of grief: “How did Viktor endure this?”
He could almost see him again, standing by the window, cigarette in hand, the light of Piltover’s skyline casting long shadows across his face. That small smile, so sharp and secretive, as if Viktor always carried answers Jayce hadn’t thought to ask. How many times had Jayce tried to wrest that cigarette away, admonishing him like a nagging spouse? How many times had Viktor laughed softly, the sound so rare yet so precious? Now, Jayce could only mimic him, foolishly clinging to the act in a desperate attempt to feel closer to the man he’d lost.
Another cough racked his body, violent and painful, and tears pricked at his eyes, not just from the smoke, though it gave him something to blame. He choked on his breath, the sensation burning all the way down to his lungs. The pain was sharp, cutting, but it wasn’t unwelcome. If anything, it anchored him, guiding him to the cold, cruel truth that he’d been trying so hard to escape. And has he closed his eyes again. He felt his mind reminiscent. Drift to easier days. The night before the Progress Day.
~~~~~
The lab had been a mess that night, a chaotic mix of scribbled notes, scattered blueprints, and tools strewn across every available surface. The soft glow of their prototype Hextech core illuminated the room, its hum a quiet reassurance amid their frantic preparation. The Day of Progress was mere hours away, and the weight of their shared ambition hung heavily in the air. Jayce was pacing, a bundle of restless energy, while Viktor leaned casually against the window, his slender figure silhouetted against the moonlight.
A thin stream of smoke curled from the cigarette between Viktor’s fingers, and the sharp scent of tobacco lingered faintly in the room. Jayce glanced at him from across the lab, pausing mid-step to scowl. “Really, Viktor? Now? We’re about to stand in front of Piltover’s most esteemed scientists and the council tomorrow, and you’re… what? Polluting your lungs?”
Viktor exhaled a slow plume of smoke, tilting his head to the side with a faint smirk. “If I’m going to be judged by the council, Jayce, I’d at least like to be judged while moderately relaxed.” His accent curled around the words like smoke itself, teasing and soft. “Stress, as you know, is not ideal for productivity.”
Jayce groaned, throwing up his hands. “Stress is exactly what’s driving me to be productive right now! You know, some of us don’t need negative outlets.” He gestured vaguely at the cigarette, his brows furrowing in mock indignation. “You’re just lucky I’m not confiscating that thing.”
“Confiscating it?” Viktor chuckled, his voice carrying that dry amusement Jayce had come to love. “What are you, my supervisor now? If I recall correctly, you were the one who forgot to recalibrate the core’s stabilizer yesterday, nearly melting half the equipment. Should I confiscate your tools for carelessness?” He raised a brow, taking another slow drag before blowing the smoke out the window.
“That was one time!” Jayce huffed, crossing his arms as he leaned against the workbench. Not having any witty remarks back. “And you fixed it in, like, two minutes. You always do. You’re the genius here, after all.”
Viktor’s smirk softened, his golden eyes glinting faintly in the dim light. “Flattery will not distract me from your hypocrisy, Jayce. You lecture me about bad habits, yet here you are, pacing holes into the floorboards and chewing your lip like a nervous schoolboy.” He gestured towards the corner of the lab. “Sit down before you break something.”
Jayce hesitated, caught between annoyance and laughter, before relenting with a sigh. “Fine, but only because I don’t trust you not to actually confiscate my tools. You’re ruthless, you know that?” He dragged a stool over to the bench, dropping onto it with exaggerated defeat. “But seriously, Viktor… what if they hate it?”
Viktor didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stubbed the cigarette out against the window ledge, letting the smoke dissipate before turning back to face Jayce. “Then they hate it,” he said simply, his tone measured but firm. As he stepped back to the workbench, leaning over Jayce’s shoulder. “But it is not their approval we are seeking. We are seeking to push the boundaries of what is possible, to show them a vision of what the future could be. Whether they accept it or not is… secondary.”
Jayce looked up at him, his chest tightening at the quiet conviction in Viktor’s voice. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
Viktor shrugged, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at his lips. “I believe in the work we’ve done. And I believe that, no matter what happens tomorrow, we will find a way forward. Together.”
The words settled something in Jayce, easing the knot of tension in his stomach. He smiled, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You know, Viktor, for someone who pretends to be all cynical and pragmatic, you’re actually kind of inspiring when you want to be.”
“And you,” Viktor replied, his smirk returning, “are insufferable when you want to be. Which, unfortunately, is most of the time.”
Jayce laughed, the sound echoing warmly in the small lab. The tension between them melted away, replaced by the familiar rhythm of their banter as they got to work.
Viktor picked up the stabilizer housing. He tilted his head, golden eyes scanning the delicate mechanisms within. “This wiring is still misaligned. I told you before, if the energy flow isn’t evenly distributed, the crystal’s output will spike unpredictably.”
“I was going to fix that,” Jayce said defensively, leaning over Viktor’s shoulder. “I just… you know, got distracted.”
“By pacing?” Viktor teased, his brow arching as he glanced up at him. “It is a miracle we get anything done with you constantly wearing holes into the floor tonight.”
“Hey, someone’s gotta keep the energy alive around here.” Jayce nudged him lightly, his smile softening as Viktor finally settled down beside him. “But fine, Mr. Perfectionist. Show me what you’ve got.”
They fell into an easy rhythm, hands working in tandem as they adjusted the delicate connections around the core. Jayce watched Viktor out of the corner of his eye, marveling at the precision in his movements. Viktor’s fingers, though slender and unsteady with the occasional cough, were deft and sure when it came to their work. Every motion was purposeful, every adjustment made with the confidence of someone who understood their creation at an almost instinctive level.
Jayce leaned his elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Viktor work. “You know,” he said softly, his voice almost drowned out by the gentle hum of the Hextech core, “you’re kind of incredible.”
Viktor paused, glancing at him with a hint of surprise. “What are you on about now?”
“I’m serious,” Jayce said, his voice growing more earnest. “I’ve never seen anyone do what you do. The way you think, the way you solve problems. It’s like you see possibilities no one else can. Sometimes I feel like I’m just trying to keep up.”
For a moment, Viktor said nothing, his gaze searching Jayce’s face. Then he shook his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “And yet it is you they call the genius of Piltover. You, the prodigy. You hardly need to ‘keep up,’ Jayce. If anything, you push me forward. That is why this works, why we work. It is not my brilliance or yours alone. It is what we create together.”
Jayce’s chest tightened at those words, the quiet conviction in Viktor’s voice grounding him in a way nothing else could. He smiled, reaching over to lightly tap the stabilizer’s frame. “Yeah, well, I guess that makes this our masterpiece, huh?”
Viktor chuckled, his fingers deftly threading a final wire into place. “Our dream,” he corrected, his voice soft. He leaned back slightly, his eyes reflecting the gentle glow of the core. “And tomorrow, we will show them what that dream can do.”
For a while, they worked side by side, tweaking the last details of their presentation and sharing quiet, hopeful glances as the hours ticked by.
They worked late into the night, perfecting every last detail, the hum of the Hextech core filling the space around them. As Viktor adjusted the final calibration, Jayce couldn’t help but admire the light in his partner’s eyes, the mix of determination and quiet pride that spoke to how much this meant to him. Viktor was often reserved, but in moments like this, when he was immersed in the work they shared, he seemed to shine.
Viktor, too, stole quiet glances at Jayce as he worked, his broad shoulders hunched over the components, his brows furrowed in concentration. His hands tightening a few bolts on the stabilizer. Jayce’s enthusiasm was unrelenting, his passion for their project infectious. It was that fire, that boundless optimism, that had drawn Viktor to him in the first place. Together, they had built something neither of them could have achieved alone.
As the first rays of dawn crept through the window, Viktor set a screwdriver down with a satisfied sigh. “It is ready,” he murmured, his voice tinged with exhaustion but laced with quiet triumph.
Jayce leaned back, running a hand through his hair as he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “We did it,” he said, his voice soft with awe. He turned to Viktor, a grin spreading across his face. “We actually did it.”
Viktor’s lips curved into a small, genuine smile. “Yes,” he said simply, his golden eyes meeting Jayce’s. “We did.”
This was their dream, messy, chaotic, and uncertain, but it was theirs. And in that moment, with the promise of the future ahead, it felt like enough.
Viktor pushed back his chair with a faint creak, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The signs of exhaustion etched into the dark circles under those eyes He stretched his thin frame, his joints popping faintly from the long hours hunched over their work. Without a word, he moved toward the windowsill, reaching into his coat pocket to retrieve another cigarette. The dim glow of dawn crept in, casting pale light across the scattered tools and papers of their cramped lab. Jayce watched him, his own nerves on edge, but his exhaustion dulled everything to a slow hum in his chest.
"Viktor," Jayce called softly, seeing him flick the lighter to life, the small flame illuminating his face. "Don’t you think one was enough? You really need to look out for yourself." Jayce let out a heavy sigh, pushing himself to his feet, shuffling towards the window too.
Viktor glanced over his shoulder, his golden eyes half-lidded with weariness, but there was a faint trace of amusement in his expression. “I think I’ve earned another cigarette before we face the council and Piltover's Elite. If I do not calm myself somehow, I may collapse before we even step in the building of the stage.” He flicked the lighter, but before he could bring it up to the cigarette, said cylinder was gone.
Before he could light it, Jayce reached forward, plucking the cigarette from his fingers with an exaggerated sigh. “I’m serious, Viktor. You need to take care of yourself. You know this is bad for you, right? I’m just saying. Your lungs…”
Viktor blinked, surprised by the sudden gesture, then let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “And here I thought you were too tired to lecture me tonight. Doctor Talis ” He reached out and plucked the cigarette back, his movements unhurried, as though he were indulging a child’s game. “I appreciate your concern, truly. But this helps me think. If it helps me survive tonight’s presentation, I think we can forgive the health risks for now.” he said dryly, placing it back between his lips.
Jayce groaned in defeat, running a hand through his hair. “Fine, but I’m not carrying you to the stage if you pass out halfway through.”
“Noted,” Viktor said with dry humor as he lit the cigarette and leaned against the window, the faint glow of the ember casting a soft light on his tired features. He took a slow drag, his shoulders relaxing slightly as he gazed out at the quiet cityscape of Piltover. The familiar curl of smoke twisted upward, mingling with the pre dawn light filtering into the room.
Jayce sighed, his earlier frustration dissipating as he watched his partner. Viktor’s silhouette at the window was a familiar sight, one Jayce had grown so accustomed to that it felt like an unspoken promise: no matter how grueling the work, they were always in it together.
Without thinking, driven more by instinct than intention, Jayce stepped forward and slipped his arms around Viktor’s waist from behind. He pressed his forehead against the back of Viktor’s shoulder, the faint smell of tobacco mingling with the metallic tang that seemed to linger in the air from their work. It was an oddly comforting scent now, one he’d come to associate with these long nights in the lab, with Viktor’s quiet presence beside him.
The unexpected gesture made Viktor stiffen for a moment, his hand pausing mid-air with the cigarette, but he quickly relaxed, a small puff of smoke leaving his lips as he exhaled.
“Jayce, what are you doing?” Viktor asked, his voice tinged with both surprise and amusement.
Jayce sighed heavily, his breath brushing against the fabric of Viktor’s vest. “I’m tired, and you’re warm enough, I guess. We haven't slept and all...”
Viktor tilted his head slightly, glancing at Jayce out of the corner of his eye. “The cigarette smell does not bother you, then?”
Jayce wrinkled his nose, the faint acrid scent tickling his senses. “It’s… not great, but whatever. I’ll survive.” His voice softened as he tightened his arms just a little.
Viktor let out a soft chuckle, the sound warm but tinged with exhaustion. He tilted his head slightly, as if trying to glance over his shoulder at Jayce, though his body remained still. “You surprise me, Jayce. I would have thought the smell of smoke would send you running.”
Jayce shook his head lightly against Viktor’s shoulder, his arms tight around his waist. “It should,” he admitted, his voice low. “But… I don’t know. It’s you, Viktor. I guess I can overlook it.” He smiled faintly, though his tiredness made it more of a fleeting twitch of his lips. “You’re weirdly comforting. Even with the smoke. I just… needed a moment, okay?”
Viktor let out another laugh, softer this time, and took another drag from his cigarette and he exhaled the plume of smoke in a slow, steady breath. “Comforting, am I? That is a first.” He shifted slightly in Jayce’s hold, as though testing the weight of his arms around him, but he didn’t pull away. “Perhaps it is because you are too tired to care?”
Jayce grinned against the fabric of Viktor’s vest, his breath warm as he murmured, “Maybe. Or maybe I just like having you around.”
Viktor’s expression softened, though he hid it by turning his gaze back to the window, feeling nearly embarrassed at the idea. The faint light of dawn caught the angles of his face, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones and the weariness etched beneath his golden eyes. For all his teasing, Viktor felt a quiet fondness stir in his chest, a warmth he couldn’t quite name.
He had always been fond of Jayce in his own way, though he had never been able to admit it outright. How could he, when his life had always been shadowed by frailty, by limits he had no choice but to overcome? But here, in the stillness of their lab, with Jayce clinging to him so unguardedly, Viktor felt something close to peace.
“You are sentimental when you are exhausted,” he observed quietly, though there was no sharpness in his tone. If anything, there was a flicker of something warmer, something almost fond, in the way he spoke.
Jayce didn’t answer right away, his eyes drifting to the faint glow of the stabilizer on the desk, the culmination of countless nights like this one. “You’re the only one who gets it, you know,” he said after a long pause, his voice barely above a whisper. “All of this, Hextech, the dream, the work… it wouldn’t mean anything if it wasn’t ours.”
Viktor turned his gaze back to the city beyond the window, the faintest trace of a smile still lingering on his lips. “Yes,” he murmured, his voice soft. “Ours.”
He rested his free hand lightly on the windowsill, his fingers brushing the worn wood. “You are lucky I am too tired to mock you for such sentimentality,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “I suppose it is not entirely unpleasant.”
Jayce let out a low, sleepy laugh, his arms still draped around Viktor as though letting go wasn’t an option. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it, Viktor. I think you enjoy it when I’m like this, when I’m too tired to fight back.”
Viktor shook his head, his lips curving into a faint smile. “You think too highly of yourself, Jayce. But…” He hesitated for just a moment, his voice dropping to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Perhaps you are not entirely wrong.”
Jayce felt his heart stir at the quiet admission, his exhaustion momentarily forgotten. Viktor rarely allowed himself to be so open, so unguarded. And even though Jayce was the one seeking comfort, he couldn’t help but feel that Viktor, in his own quiet way, found rest in moments like this, too.
“You know,” Jayce said softly, his voice laced with a kind of reverence, “I really don’t think I could have done any of this without you. This lab, the research, everything. It’s as much yours as it is mine, no matter what the people say or believe. You keep me grounded, Viktor. Even when I’m falling apart.”
Viktor didn’t respond immediately, his gaze distant as he looked out over the city. The early morning light painted the skyline in shades of gold and blue, a quiet reminder of the day that awaited them. When he spoke, his voice was calm but touched with a rare warmth. “Perhaps that is why we work well together. You dream too high, and I keep your feet on the ground. A balance.”
Jayce smiled, his heart swelling at the words. “Yeah,” he murmured. “A balance.”
For a long moment, they stayed like that. Viktor standing at the window, the faint smell of nicotine and metal lingering around him as faint veils of smoke curled from his lips, and Jayce holding him close, his face buried against his shoulder. The world outside was waking, but here, in the quiet of their lab, it was just the two of them, their shared dream, their fragile, unspoken bond.
And even if Viktor wouldn’t say it aloud, he allowed himself to savor Jayce’s closeness, his warmth. It was one of the rare times Viktor found himself enjoying Jayce’s moments of weakness. Not out of malice, but because they reminded him that even the usually confident, fearless Jayce Talis could find comfort in him, the frail scientist from Zaun with too many limits. It was a kind of validation, in a way, a reassurance that he mattered, not just as a partner in their work, but as something more.
The cigarette burned low, the ember shrinking into ash as Viktor finally reached up and tapped it out on the windowsill. He turned slightly, just enough for his gaze to meet Jayce’s, his expression unreadable, his eyes closed.
“Jayce,” he said softly, “if you fall asleep like this, I will not carry you to the stage.”
Jayce lifted his head slightly, his cheek brushing against the soft fabric of Viktor’s vest as he laughed. “You say that now, but I bet you’d manage. Maybe not carry me, but drag me at least,” he teased, the weariness in his voice undercut by a hint of playfulness.
Viktor arched an eyebrow, the faintest smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Drag you? Perhaps. But I imagine the council would not appreciate scuff marks across their polished floors.” He took a step forward, breaking Jayce’s hold on him, though the gesture lacked any real insistence. He flicked the cigarette’s remains out the window and dusted his hand off against his clothes, glancing back at his partner.
Jayce rubbed his eyes, fighting against the growing pull of exhaustion. He leaned heavily against the window frame now, his broad shoulders slumping as he sighed. “Man, I don’t know how you’re so calm about this. Do you even realize what we’re doing today? Like, really doing? We’re about to change the future of Piltover, hell, maybe even the world.”
Viktor’s smirk eased into something gentler, his sharp features catching the pale light of dawn filtering through the lab’s grimy window. “I am not calm,” he admitted, his voice quiet but steady. “But I have had longer to get used to the idea of the world’s scrutiny.” He gestured toward the workbench, where the hextech crystal stabilizer gleamed faintly. “And besides, there is no time for nerves now. Either it works, or it does not. Worrying will not make it more stable.”
Jayce pushed himself off the windowsill, crossing the small room to stand beside Viktor at the bench. He placed a hand on the table, tracing a finger absently over the stabilizer’s casing. “You make it sound so simple,” he murmured. “But it’s not just about the science, is it? It’s about proving to them, to everyone, that we’re more than just a couple of crazy inventors with big ideas.”
Viktor glanced at him sideways, his golden eyes glinting with a faint trace of amusement. “You mean proving that you are more than a ‘crazy inventor.’ I am quite content to remain as such.”
Jayce snorted, his lips curving into a tired smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He picked up a spanner from the table, rolling it between his hands. “But seriously, Viktor… What if it doesn’t work? What if—”
“It will work,” Viktor interrupted firmly, his voice carrying a rare note of finality. He reached out, his thin fingers brushing against the stabilizer as if to steady it, or perhaps himself. “We have tested it. Rebuilt it. Reimagined it. This is not a matter of chance, Jayce. This is our work. It will speak for itself.”
For a moment, Jayce just watched him, the way Viktor’s hand lingered on the device, the way his posture, though always slightly hunched, seemed to hold a quiet confidence. There was something about Viktor that was grounding, as if his very presence had the power to bring Jayce to reality when his own thoughts threatened to spiral out of control. And yet, there was a warmth to him, too, buried beneath the layers of sharp wit and rational calculations. A warmth that Jayce found himself clinging to, especially in moments like this.
Jayce felt his chest tighten at the words, a wave of gratitude and something deeper washing over him. He reached out, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, and gave it a gentle squeeze. “You’re right. It will work.”
The moment lingered between them, unspoken but understood, before Viktor stepped back, brushing off his vest a final time as though to shake off the weight of sentimentality. “If we are to survive the day, we should leave soon,” he said, his tone shifting back to its usual briskness. “The council will not wait for two sleep-deprived inventors to gather their courage.”
Jayce laughed, the sound lighter now, as he grabbed his coat from the back of a chair. “All right, all right, I’m moving. But just so you know, if I pass out on that stage, it’s on you to pick up the slack.”
Viktor rolled his eyes but couldn’t quite suppress the small smile that tugged at his lips. “Then I suggest you stay awake, Jayce. I do not plan to carry this presentation- or you.”
Together, they gathered their equipment and their notes, their nervousness easing by the quiet understanding that they were not facing this alone. As they stepped out of the lab and into the rising morning, the weight of their shared dream carried them forward.
~~~~~
Now it wasn't shared anymore.
His chest ached, not just from the coughing but from the memory of that last embrace, Viktor’s thin frame encased in metal, slipping from his arms despite Jayce’s desperate grip. He’d said so little, yet every word had been a dagger. And now, even the smoke that once irritated him felt sacred, like it was the last piece of Viktor he could hold onto, even if it hurt.
Jayce took another drag, his breath shuddering as the cigarette burned closer to the filter. The smoke stung, but he welcomed it, his mind whispering that maybe this was how Viktor had coped with the suffocating weight of their dream, with the pain of a body that had betrayed him, with the distance between them that had grown wider and wider until it was a rift too large to cross.
And yet, as he stared at the faint wisps curling into the dim air, he couldn’t help but feel how empty it all was. The smoke didn’t warm him. It didn’t soothe the ache in his chest or quiet the storm in his mind. If anything, it mocked him; a cold, hollow mimicry of what he truly yearned for. Not the smell, not the taste, not the burn, but Viktor. His voice, his wit, his mind, his soul. The man who had stood beside him in the chaos, who had been his equal, his anchor, his- his everything.
Jayce let the cigarette fall into the ashtray, the ember extinguishing itself with a faint hiss. His hand lingered over the pack, the urge to reach for another rising like a wave, but he hesitated. His throat ached, his lungs burned, and his eyes stung with unshed tears, but none of it filled the void. None of it brought Viktor back.
Jayce ran his hand across the edge of the table, his fingers tracing the very design they’d created together, his thoughts drifting back to the Day of Progress. Maybe that Day was the first step into the direction that separated the two.
It had been a monumental day, but not for the reasons Jayce had wanted. He had promised Viktor that they would present the full scope of their work, that they would show the world what they had accomplished. But when Heimerdinger had entered the picture, when the pressure of the council had become too much, Jayce had folded.
He’d hidden parts of their invention, spoke only of the rough edges, and made Viktor’s work seem less than it was. He’d done it for the approval of the council, for the prestige, for Heimerdinger’s favor. He had thought it would lead them to greater things, but all it did was create a chasm between them.
He hadn’t even told Viktor before he did it. And Viktor had known, of course. Of course he had known. Viktor wasn’t blind to Jayce’s ambition, to his need for validation. He’d seen it in the way Jayce’s eyes lit up at the council’s praise, heard it in the hurried promises to Heimerdinger.
Viktor, always the more cautious, the more reserved, had never asked for glory. He had asked only for the science, for the dream they had shared. Jayce had let that slip away, like sand running through his fingers. And now...
Now Viktor was gone. Not just physically, but emotionally. Jayce hadn’t just lost his partner, his closest friend. He had driven him away with his own hands, his own pride.
He couldn’t take back the Day of Progress. And no matter how many times he tried to tell himself that it had been necessary, necessary for their future, for their careers, he knew the truth. He had sacrificed Viktor.
The very same hand that had once built their dreams together had now torn them apart.
“I thought... I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jayce whispered to the empty room, his voice cracking. “I thought it was what we needed... but I was wrong. I was wrong about everything.”
There was no answer, no echo of Viktor’s voice to offer comfort, no soft reply to temper the guilt gnawing at his insides. The lab felt colder than ever. The hum of the machines no longer sounded like the heartbeat of creation. It sounded like a ticking clock, counting down the moments Jayce had wasted, the time he had lost.
Jayce picked up the cigarette pack again, his fingers trembling as he caressed the packaging.
He could taste the bitterness of Viktor’s absence, the regret too heavy to ignore, with the nicotine that now lingered on his tongue.
And somewhere in the back of his mind, Jayce couldn’t help but wonder if Viktor had been right all along. Maybe they had never truly belonged in Piltover. Maybe Viktor had always belonged in the UnderCity, where the world would see him for what he was: a brilliant, misunderstood genius that was running out of time. Jayce, on the other hand... maybe he had always been too eager to prove himself, too hungry for recognition.
He leaned back in the chair, staring at the walls of the lab, now feeling more like a tomb than a sanctuary. Viktor had walked out of this place, and Jayce couldn’t bring himself to go after him anymore. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; he did, more than anything, but he knew, deep down, that some things couldn’t be fixed, some wounds too deep to heal.
The Hextech dream they had shared was gone. And so was Viktor.