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The Herald’s hand reaches out over Jayce’s head. Fingers rustle his overgrown, unkempt hair, travelling towards his forehead. They hum with power, the buzz overwhelmingly loud to Jayce’s ears. Then, four fingertips, as cold as ice yet thrumming with hot energy, rest against his forehead.
All at once, Jayce feels everything and nothing at the same time. He’s in pain, but he’s euphoric. He’s terrified, but he’s eager. He is and he isn’t. Every emotion, sensation, and phenomenon rushes through him. His mind feels like it’s vibrating. The sensation gets faster and faster and it’s moving —moving down, down to the area just between his ribs. He feels like nothing makes sense anymore. It’s pent up nervousness but it isn’t. It’s…it’s the feel of release but it’s not. It’s getting bigger and bigger, growing—Jayce is going to implode if he doesn’t get this out of his system right this second—
The sensation starts pushing within him, all over his body, trying to escape. Searing pain cuts right through Jayce’s heart. He gasps and out come ropes and ropes of light. It’s bright, but impure—tasting bitter on his tongue and feeling wrong . Then, he is gone.
Now he is back, somewhere slow, brackish. The dirty light is back, tingling all over his body. Then, it’s gone, and all Jayce feels is a strange weightlessness in his body, and four small pricks in his head, where Viktor’s fingers had touched him. He opens his eyes and looks around, his breathing thin and weak. Jayce feels a tug in the back of his mind. The Herald is here. Jayce doesn’t know how he knows, but he is sure of it.
“This,” he starts, looking around at the impossible space he finds himself in, at the golden figures of light around him, “is what you see?”
Jayce turns, and sure enough, there Viktor stands, like a God. Nebulae are born and fizzle out at his back, ribbons of the universe hang from his shoulders, trailing down past his feet. He stands thinner than Jayce remembers, joints pinched and limbs elongated. His legs are even, the same, Jayce realizes. Viktor's face though, is wide, and if the man focuses, Jayce can see a face split down the middle, birthing new eyes in the space between the halved sides. Viktor holds a large staff, both pitch black and blinding. A miniature sun hovers at the top of the staff. Colorful scraps of space gas ruffle and coil around Viktor’s neck and shoulders. A geometric-looking halo surrounds his head, and two glowing, shifting pupils watch Jayce.
Viktor gestures outwardly with his arm, “This…conflict; this senseless waste,” he waves his staff at the forms of golden light, “I know their minds, Jayce. They want better lives, but emotion clashes with reason. This is humanity’s self-corrupting contradiction.”
Better lives? Self-corrupting? Jayce’s eyebrows draw together. No, that’s not true. Emotion doesn’t clash with reason, it fuels it. He stares at the Herald’s form, and it hits him.
“You’ve always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses,” he says slowly. He huffs, looking down at his hands. “Your leg. Your disease.” He looks up, wishing he could rest his gaze on beautiful amber eyes instead of two balls of energy. Jayce swallows. His hands are starting to glow. He’ll be going under soon. Viktor needs to hear this before then. “But you were never broken, Viktor. There is beauty in imperfections,” he says confidently. “They made you who you are. They’re an inseparable piece of everything…”
His eyes flutter shut against his will. The buzzing is back. It forces his mind to sleep, to submit to nothingness. It’s tempting. Very tempting…No, he needs to finish his words first. Then Viktor (or the Herald, whichever is in control right now) can disable him all he wants.
“An inseparable piece of everything—” He sighs. “Everything I loved about you.”
There’s a loud tug of something , a disturbance. Then Jayce slips under.
Jayce jolts back with a gasp. His eyes flash open watching Viktor hide away, shrinking in the distance. Jayce needs to talk with Viktor, properly. He swallows nothing and talks again.
“I thought I wanted us to give magic to the world. I thought that was my biggest motivator, I thought that was the end goal. Now…” He pauses, taking a deep breath through his nose, “Now, all I want is my partner back.” It’s almost a plea. No, it is a plea. Jayce isn’t ashamed to beg—not for this. He stares at the cosmos that is Viktor’s back. Desperately he wants him to turn around, so Jayce can look into the cold face of the Herald and see if he can find a flash of lively yellow in its dead eyes.
“Why do you persist?” Viktor asks, and the sound of his partner’s voice, his real voice, smooth and accented and without the mechanical whirring, makes Jayce’s body shudder with relief. “Why, after everything I’ve done?” Viktor asks again, his voice raw. Jayce revels in the emotion he hears. Oh, it’s been too long since he’s heard Viktor speak like himself.
“Because I promised you,” Jayce answers. He wills himself to move forward, drifting closer to Viktor’s back. He slams his body into him in a hug, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s middle like a vice. He nuzzles his nose into Viktor’s neck, and lets his memories rush to the other. Viktor gasps, and Jayce waits, clinging to his lab partner, his mentor, his best friend; to the most important man to him. He waits, hearing Viktor’s ragged breathing and the fizzle of atoms. Viktor suddenly pushes himself away from Jayce. Jayce opens his eyes and can’t help but smile at the sight of his Viktor, not the Herald, not a big, intimidating, “perfect” being; just Viktor.
“That…” Viktor pants, “That’s—” He stops.
“You must go, Jayce,” Viktor says a few seconds later, his back still to him. Jayce’s smile slides off his face. He gets closer, slowly, almost hesitantly putting his hand on Viktor’s shoulder, ignoring the other’s jolt of surprise. Viktor turns to look at Jayce, and he can’t help but gasp a little.
Viktor is beautiful—so, so beautiful like this. His eyes are wide, the color of aged amber. Underneath those handsome eyes are the eyebags Jayce is so familiar with. Between them is the long, crooked nose Jayce wishes to trace the bridge of with his finger. There is the beauty mark above the right corner of Viktor’s lips, there is Viktor’s messy bedhead, permanent no matter how much he brushes, and there is Viktor , the real Viktor. The Viktor Jayce admires and wants and cares for—he’s finally here .
And there is no need for words between them—Viktor knows what Jayce promised what feels like eons ago. Viktor knows what needs to happen. Jaye can see it in his eyes: He’s scared. Still, Jayce gives him a half-nod, eyes never leaving Viktor’s. They have to.
Slowly, he feels for the rune on his wrist. Once a stone embedded painfully in his wrist, it’s now a glowing mark drawn on his wrist like a tattoo. Jayce reaches into the mass of gas that is now his skin and holds the rune in his palm. He hands it to Viktor, pressing their hands together.
“We finish this together,” Jayce promises. He lets go, watching the rune react to Viktor as he closes his fist. Its energy ripples through Viktor’s arm, causing him to flinch. Thousands of runes—no, a million runes move and swirl around them, dousing them in blue light. Viktor flinches again. His hand is trembling, Jayce realizes. He feels the power of the rune pushing him away, and he struggles against its currents of power. He wants…he needs to get closer to Viktor. He has to be there, too. He has to. He’s promised.
The moment Jayce clamps both his hands around Viktor’s fist, they’re forced away. Jayce grits his teeth and tries again. This time he holds on tight. The rune tries to push him away again, but Jayce refuses to be thrown off again.
He looks up at Viktor. They’re so close, closer than they’ve ever been in the lab. Definitely closer than they’ve been the past few months. Viktor looks terrified. Jayce bets he looks the same. Good. This is good.
A faint memory is pulled to the front of Jayce’s mind. A form of affection in a culture he’s not familiar with, more intimate than a kiss, and a great sign of equality and—and love. With a thrumming energy in between his ribs that reminds him of a rushing heart, he lifts one arm and cups the back of Viktor’s head. He gently pushes Viktor’s head forward, tilting his own head inward, and the man’s amber eyes flash with recognition. Viktor’s mouth drops open a little and his eyes widen. Viktor slides his free hand to Jayce’s forearm. With an exhale Jayce feels deep inside his being, they bring their foreheads together.
Immediately Jayce can feel Viktor. He can feel the man’s own thrumming energy, the man’s feelings—his acceptance, his surprise, and his overwhelming affection. It all rushes through Jayce in waves. Then the pain begins, and ribbons and rays and crackles of energy and magic and power burst from the gaps of their interlocked hands. The light engulfs them, whirling and buzzing and building. Jayce’s breathing turns to panting. He’s never been so scared before.
Viktor rubs his arm lightly and presses his forehead harder against Jayce’s.
Jayce's lips stretch into a soft smile. He tightens his grip on Viktor’s hand and feels the pressure. Somehow, even with his eyes closed, he knows Viktor is smiling too. They’re combining, twisting and swirling together into one. The energy between his ribs, Jayce (or is it Viktor?) concludes, must be his soul. Their souls are fusing, melting together like heated pieces of iron in a deep forge.
The building energy reaches its peak. They hold their breath, waiting for it to collapse into itself, waiting to be forever sewn into the stars as an inseparable being. The truth of I love you flows through them, and he doesn’t bother thinking who it’s originally coming from. It wouldn’t matter anyways.
The Hexcore stills for a minute, energy hanging thick in the air. Then, all at once, it’s sucked away, not a trace left of its existence. Together, they implode.