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Chapter Text

The lab was quiet except for the faint hum of machinery and the occasional clink of tools as Viktor worked. He was hunched over a workbench, his sharp, methodical movements a testament to his focus. Blue light from the hexcore illuminated his face, making the faint circles under his eyes more pronounced. Viktor’s brow furrowed as he scribbled a quick note in his journal, his concentration unbroken even as Jayce stood behind him, watching.

Jayce leaned against the edge of the desk, arms crossed and a faint grin playing on his lips. He’d been watching Viktor for a while now, pretending to read over the notes scattered on the table, but his attention kept drifting to the other man.

“You’ve been at this for hours,” Jayce finally said, his tone light. “Don’t you think it’s time for a break?

“I will take a break,” Viktor replied without looking up, his voice tinged with mild amusement. “When I finish this calibration.

Jayce sighed dramatically, pushing himself off the desk. “You’re going to work yourself into the ground, you know.”

Viktor’s lips quirked in a faint smirk, though he didn’t turn to face him. “Says the man who once stayed up three nights straight to test a prototype.”

“That’s different,” Jayce countered, stepping closer. He placed his hands lightly on Viktor’s shoulders, the warmth of his palms bleeding through the thin fabric of Viktor’s shirt. “I had you to keep me in line back then.

Viktor stilled for a moment, the pen in his hand pausing mid-note. He glanced over his shoulder, his golden-brown eyes meeting Jayce’s with a mix of fondness and exasperation. “And now it seems the roles have reversed.”

“Exactly,” Jayce said with a grin, his hands gently kneading Viktor’s shoulders. “I’m just doing my duty as your partner. Making sure you’re taking care of yourself.”

Viktor rolled his eyes but didn’t resist as Jayce’s hands moved down, his touch firm but careful. “If I agree to take a break, will you let me finish this first?”

“Nope,” Jayce said cheerfully. “Break first, work later.”

Before Viktor could argue, Jayce leaned down, wrapping his arms loosely around Viktor’s waist and pressing his chin to Viktor’s shoulder. The sudden closeness made Viktor stiffen slightly, but the warmth of Jayce’s presence melted the tension just as quickly.

“You’re impossible,” Viktor muttered, though there was no real bite in his words. His free hand moved to rest lightly over Jayce’s arm, his thumb brushing the back of Jayce’s hand in a quiet gesture of affection.

“And you’re stubborn,” Jayce countered, his voice soft. “But I love you anyway.”

Viktor turned his head just enough to catch Jayce’s eye, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “It seems we are both cursed.”

Jayce laughed, the sound low and warm, reverberating through Viktor’s back. “If this is a curse, I’m not looking for a cure.”

For a moment, the workbench and the glowing hexcore faded into the background. In the stillness of the lab, surrounded by the hum of their creations, they found a brief moment of peace—just the two of them, tangled in each other’s warmth.

Jayce stayed where he was, his arms still loosely draped around Viktor’s waist, his head resting on his shoulder. He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in the faint scent of oil, metal, and something uniquely Viktor—a quiet, grounding presence that always managed to steady him. 

“You’re warm,” Jayce murmured against Viktor’s neck, his voice soft and slightly teasing. “And way too comfortable to let go of right now.”

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh, his fingers pausing in their note-taking as he leaned back into Jayce, letting himself rest for just a moment. “I fear if I indulge you too much, you’ll never let me work again.”

“Exactly,” Jayce replied, grinning as he pressed a quick kiss to the side of Viktor’s neck. The touch was light, almost playful, but it sent a faint flush to Viktor’s cheeks. Viktor tried to focus on the schematics in front of him, but his sharp mind faltered when Jayce’s lips lingered just a second too long.

“Jayce,” Viktor said, his tone half a warning and half a plea. “You are distracting.”

“That’s the point,” Jayce replied, unabashed. “You’re brilliant, Viktor, but you’ve been staring at this for hours. Let me take care of you for a bit.”

“You’re insufferable,” Viktor muttered, though there was no real irritation in his voice. He leaned forward slightly, trying to pull himself out of Jayce’s hold, but the taller man didn’t budge.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Jayce said, tightening his grip just enough to keep Viktor in place. “I’m not letting you escape that easily.”

Viktor sighed, his head tilting back slightly as he resigned himself to Jayce’s affection. “And what, exactly, do you propose we do instead of working?”

Jayce grinned, his brown eyes sparkling mischievously. “I propose we sit down somewhere more comfortable, maybe share some tea or food, and talk about something other than work for once. You know, act like normal people in a relationship.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, glancing up at him. “Normal? Jayce, nothing about us or our work is remotely normal.”

“Fine,” Jayce conceded, chuckling. “Maybe not normal. But I do think you deserve a moment to breathe. And maybe... I just like having you all to myself for a bit.”

The faintest smile tugged at Viktor’s lips, softening his usually stoic expression. “You are relentless.”

“Only for you,” Jayce said, his voice dropping to a quieter, more sincere tone. He loosened his grip just enough to let Viktor turn in his arms, their faces now mere inches apart. Jayce’s gaze softened as he reached up to brush a strand of hair away from Viktor’s face. “Seriously, Vik. You mean so much to me. Just... let me take care of you for a little while.

Viktor studied him for a moment, his golden eyes searching Jayce’s face for any trace of insincerity and, as always, finding none. With a small sigh, Viktor nodded. “Very well. But only because I know you won’t let me work in peace otherwise.”

Jayce beamed, his boyish enthusiasm lighting up the room. “You know me too well.” He leaned down, brushing a tender kiss against Viktor’s lips—a soft, lingering touch that made Viktor’s breath catch ever so slightly. 

When they pulled apart, Viktor’s cheeks were faintly flushed, but he allowed Jayce to guide him away from the workbench. For the first time in hours, the lab felt less like a place of unending toil and more like a haven—a space where ambition and affection could coexist.

Chapter Text

The dim light cast soft shadows across the room as Viktor stood in front of the full-length mirror tucked away in the corner. His reflection stared back at him, pale and tired, his shirt discarded and his back slightly hunched as he adjusted the straps of his leg brace. The brass-and-steel contraption gleamed faintly in the light, its intricate design a stark contrast to the raw scars that traced faint paths along his skin.

He frowned, running a hand over the brace to ensure it was secure. No matter how often he wore it or how vital it was to his mobility, it always felt like a reminder of his limitations. His shoulders sagged as he let out a slow breath, unaware of the footsteps approaching behind him.

“Hey,” Jayce’s voice broke the quiet, soft but full of warmth. “What are you doing over here by yourself?”

Viktor stiffened slightly, his fingers pausing mid-adjustment. “Just ensuring the brace is fitted properly,” he said, his voice even, though there was an edge of discomfort to it. He didn’t turn around, keeping his eyes on the mirror as if avoiding Jayce’s gaze would shield him from the other man’s scrutiny.

Jayce frowned, stepping closer. “Vik, you’ve adjusted that thing a hundred times today. What’s really going on?”

Viktor hesitated, his hand dropping to his side as he finally met Jayce’s reflection in the mirror. “It is... nothing,” he said quietly. “I simply wish it did not look so—”

He stopped himself, his jaw tightening as if the words physically hurt to say.

Jayce’s heart ached at the sight of him—so brilliant, so strong, and yet so weighed down by his own self-consciousness. Without a word, Jayce closed the distance between them, placing his hands gently on Viktor’s shoulders.

“Stop,” Jayce said softly, his voice firm but tender. “Don’t do that to yourself.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his gaze dropping. “It is not as though I can ignore it, Jayce. It is always there, a constant reminder of—” 

“Of how incredible you are,” Jayce interrupted, turning Viktor to face him. “Of how hard you’ve fought to be here, of how much you’ve accomplished despite everything. Do you have any idea how much I admire you?”

Viktor tried to pull away, but Jayce held him firmly, his hands moving to cradle Viktor’s face. “Look at me,” Jayce said, his voice softening. “You’re the smartest, strongest, most determined person I’ve ever met. This brace? These scars? They don’t take anything away from you. If anything, they’re proof of how amazing you are.”

Viktor’s throat worked as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting away before reluctantly meeting Jayce’s. “You do not need to say such things.”

Jayce’s lips curved into a small smile. “I don’t need to, but I want to. Because they’re true.” 

Before Viktor could argue, Jayce leaned in, capturing his lips in a kiss that was anything but subtle. It was deep, insistent, and filled with all the emotions Jayce couldn’t quite put into words. Viktor stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then he melted into it, his hands tentatively coming up to rest on Jayce’s chest.

Jayce pulled back just enough to speak, his forehead resting against Viktor’s. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “Every part of you. And I won’t let you forget it.”

He didn’t give Viktor a chance to respond, diving back in for another kiss—softer this time, but no less passionate. His hands slid down Viktor’s arms, then around his waist, holding him close as if trying to shield him from his own insecurities physically.

Viktor’s breath hitched as Jayce peppered kisses along his jaw, then his cheek, and down to his neck, each one accompanied by a murmured affirmation. “Brilliant.” Kiss. “Strong.” Kiss. “Mine.” Kiss.

By the time Jayce finally pulled back, Viktor’s cheeks were flushed, his lips slightly parted as he tried to catch his breath. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of Jayce’s words hanging in the air between them.

“Jayce...” Viktor began, his voice unsteady but touched with something that sounded almost like wonder.

Jayce smiled, brushing a strand of hair from Viktor’s face. “No more hiding, okay? You’re perfect just the way you are. And I’ll remind you every day if I have to.”

Viktor huffed a soft laugh, his lips curving into a faint but genuine smile. “You are relentless.”

“Only because I love you,” Jayce replied, pulling him into a tight embrace. And for the first time in what felt like ages, Viktor allowed himself to believe it.

Viktor let himself lean against Jayce, his cheek resting against the broad expanse of his chest. The steady thrum of Jayce’s heartbeat filled his ears, grounding him in a way words couldn’t. Jayce’s arms wrapped securely around him, his warmth chasing away the lingering chill of Viktor’s self-doubt.

They stood like that for a long moment, the lab quiet except for the hum of machinery. Viktor wasn’t used to this level of openness, this vulnerability. He’d spent so much of his life focused on work, on achieving something greater than himself, that the idea of being loved for who he was—not just his mind or his contributions—still felt foreign.

“You make it sound so easy,” Viktor murmured, his voice muffled against Jayce’s chest. “To simply accept myself as you do.”

Jayce chuckled softly, his hand tracing slow, soothing circles along Viktor’s back. “It’s not easy. Trust me, I know what it’s like to wrestle with doubts. But I also know this—there’s no one in this world like you, Viktor. And if I can see it, so can you.”

Viktor tilted his head up, meeting Jayce’s gaze. “And if I cannot?”

“Then I’ll keep reminding you until you do,” Jayce said, his voice firm but full of affection. He cupped Viktor’s face again, his thumbs brushing over the sharp lines of Viktor’s cheekbones. “You’ve spent so much time building the future for everyone else. Let me help build something for you, for us.”

Viktor’s eyes softened, the gold flecks catching the dim light as he searched Jayce’s face. “You make it difficult to argue.”

“Good,” Jayce said with a grin, leaning down to kiss him again. This time, the kiss was slower, more deliberate. Jayce took his time, savoring the feel of Viktor’s lips against his own, the way Viktor’s hands tentatively slid up to rest on Jayce’s shoulders as if anchoring himself.

When they finally broke apart, Viktor’s lips were slightly swollen, his cheeks tinged pink. Jayce brushed his fingers along Viktor’s jawline, his touch lingering as he spoke. “You don’t have to face any of this alone. We’re a team, remember? In and out of the lab.”

Viktor nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “You have a way of being... irritatingly persuasive.”

“I prefer irresistible,” Jayce teased, his grin widening. He leaned down, pressing one last kiss to Viktor’s forehead before stepping back slightly, though he kept one arm securely around Viktor’s waist. “Now, how about we get out of here for a bit? Maybe grab something to eat, talk about something other than work for once.”

Viktor hesitated, glancing toward the workbench cluttered with notes and tools. But when he looked back at Jayce, the earnest warmth in his eyes made the decision easier. “Perhaps a break would be... beneficial.”

Jayce’s face lit up, his enthusiasm infectious. “That’s my guy.” He gave Viktor’s waist a gentle squeeze before grabbing his coat from a nearby chair. “Come on. Let’s make tonight about us.”

As they left the lab together, Viktor felt a quiet sense of relief settle over him. The insecurities didn’t vanish completely, but with Jayce by his side, they seemed a little less overwhelming—just one more challenge they could face together.

Chapter Text

The grand council hall was filled with murmurs of tension and debate. Viktor and Jayce sat side by side at the long, polished table, both deep in thought as the leaders around them discussed the fate of the city. The air was thick with a mixture of frustration and hope, each council member arguing for their own vision of Piltover's future. The room was aglow with the soft light of crystal chandeliers hanging overhead, their gentle flicker adding an almost surreal calm to the heated atmosphere.

Viktor, with his arm resting on the table, seemed distracted, his mind racing over his plans for progress. Jayce, ever the confident figure, was engaged in the conversation, his eyes scanning the faces around him. They were once allies, but the distance between them had grown over time. Both men pulled in different directions by their visions.

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic sound echoed through the hall, followed by a blinding flash. The ground trembled violently, and the very foundation of the council building seemed to shudder. A deafening explosion erupted, shaking the walls as a plume of smoke and dust consumed the air. Shouts and cries rang out as the blast sent the council members scrambling in chaos. Chairs were overturned, debris flew in all directions, and a burst of heat scorched the air.

Jayce's ears rang, his breath ragged as the smoke filled the room. He coughed violently, trying to clear his lungs of the dust. The remnants of the once-grand hall were now a maze of shattered glass and twisted metal. The tremors subsided, but the damage was devastating. Screams echoed through the chaos, some from injured members of the council, and others from the shocked survivors.

Jayce, still dazed but largely unharmed, looked around in confusion. He could see the injured, the wreckage, the burning pieces of what had once been the symbol of Piltover’s progress. But as his eyes searched frantically, they landed on Viktor.

Viktor lay near the center of the destruction, his body twisted at an unnatural angle, one of his legs pinned beneath a fallen pillar. His arm, now exposed and scorched, twitched faintly. Blood stained his clothes, and his breathing was shallow. Jayce’s heart raced, the reality of the situation crashing over him.

With a sudden burst of energy, Jayce rushed toward Viktor, his legs carrying him through the debris. He tried to push the rubble away, but it was heavy, nearly too much for him to handle. "Viktor! Viktor!" Jayce shouted, voice strained with panic.

Viktor’s eyes fluttered open, though they were glazed, unfocused. He attempted to speak but only managed a weak cough, his voice barely a whisper. "Jayce..." he rasped, his breath labored. "It's... too late."

"No!" Jayce growled, his hands working desperately to lift the debris, his mind reeling with fear and disbelief. "Don’t say that. Hold on! I’ll get you out of here. We’ll fix this."

But the weight of the situation was clear. The explosion had caused irreparable damage. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and burning material. Jayce’s hands were shaking, covered in blood and dirt as he tried to pull Viktor free. The man he had once called a friend, now lying broken, a mere shell of the brilliant inventor.

Viktor’s breath grew more ragged, his face pale, eyes flicking between Jayce’s face and the devastation surrounding them. "You... always... wanted to be the hero," Viktor whispered with a strained smile, his voice weak. "Now you get to be... just that."

Jayce’s eyes filled with helplessness. "Don’t talk like that. I’m not leaving you."

But there was nothing Jayce could do. The world around them crumbled, and the sound of footsteps—rushing toward the hall, perhaps, or away from the chaos—faded into nothingness as he focused only on the fragile figure before him.

Jayce’s breath quickened as the reality of the situation hit him. The once-proud council hall was in ruins, and there was no time to waste. But no matter how much he moved or how hard he tried to pry away the wreckage, Viktor remained trapped beneath the weight of the fallen debris.

Jayce’s hands were slick with blood, his mind racing as he tried to think through the haze of panic. His mechanical gauntlet clicked with the frantic movement as he grasped hold of the largest piece of rubble, straining with every muscle to lift it. Sweat dripped down his face, mixing with the dust from the destruction.

“Viktor! Please, stay with me!” Jayce's voice cracked, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

Viktor’s lips parted in a weak attempt at a smile, though it was little more than a grimace. His eyes fluttered, trying to focus on Jayce through the smoke and dust that blurred his vision. He coughed again, more blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, his breath shallow.

“Jayce... it’s... it’s too much,” Viktor rasped. His words were barely audible, but Jayce heard them, each syllable sinking deep into his chest. “I... I wanted to change... change the world. But... I never thought... this.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Jayce snapped, his voice strained with emotion. “We’ve come too far. We’ve fought too hard.” He gripped Viktor’s hand, now trembling in his own. "I won’t lose you. I can’t. Not like this."

Viktor’s eyes softened, his body trembling with each breath he took. “You always were the dreamer, Jayce. I... I envied that... your optimism.”

Jayce’s hands trembled as he continued to work at the rubble, his eyes never leaving Viktor’s face. He was panicking, trying to think of anything, anything at all that could save his friend. The clock was ticking. The sound of distant voices shouting, running to help, was drowned out by the sound of his own heart pounding in his chest.

Jayce’s mind flashed back to the early days of their partnership—their shared vision of a better Piltover, a city of progress and innovation. Back then, they were brothers in arms, working side by side. Now, everything was shattered. Everything had come crashing down.

As Jayce strained with all his might, Viktor’s fingers twitched weakly. “It’s... my fault...” he whispered, his voice growing quieter. His face, once filled with determination and brilliance, now reflected the grim truth. “I... I didn’t see... the consequences.”

Jayce paused, his heart sinking as he realized the depth of Viktor’s guilt. “Stop. Don’t say that. It wasn’t your fault. We made our choices together,” Jayce replied, his voice hoarse with desperation. “I... I failed you. I should have been able to fix this.”

“No...” Viktor’s voice was barely a breath, a soft exhale. He reached weakly for Jayce’s hand, his fingers grazing his wrist. “We... we both... wanted to create something better... something that would last.”

Jayce's eyes burned as tears welled up, threatening to spill over. He didn’t have the strength to argue anymore. Not now. “I won’t let you die like this, Viktor,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. "I won’t."

But Viktor’s eyes, now dimming with pain, met Jayce’s with a final, bittersweet understanding. “You always did think... you could fix everything,” Viktor said softly, the edges of his voice fading. “Maybe... this time... you can’t.”

Jayce’s chest tightened, his hands shaking uncontrollably. He fought against the urge to break down, to give in to the overwhelming grief threatening to swallow him whole. But it was too late. Viktor's breathing slowed, his head falling back against the wreckage. His hand, once gripping Jayce’s, now lay limp.

A long, painful silence followed. The sound of the devastation outside—the screaming, the distant shouting—faded as Jayce remained frozen in place. Time itself seemed to stretch, every second dragging as he stared at his old friend, now lost to the wreckage.

The weight of what had just happened hung heavy in the air. The city’s future, their shared dream, had been shattered in the blink of an eye. Jayce could feel the coldness spreading through his veins, an emptiness in his chest that nothing could fill.

For a long moment, Jayce simply sat there, holding Viktor’s hand, a broken man amidst the ruins of their shared vision.

Then, at last, the sound of footsteps grew louder. People were coming—survivors, soldiers, anyone who could still stand. But none of it mattered now. Jayce had lost the one person who had once stood beside him, dreaming of a future they could change together.

As the first of the rescuers reached the hall, Jayce knew that nothing would ever be the same again.

Chapter Text

The soft glow of the hexcore cast shifting patterns of light across Viktor's face as he adjusted a component on the device. His fingers moved with precision, the habitual work keeping his mind occupied—or at least attempting to. The quiet hum of the lab should have been comforting, but tonight, it felt suffocating.

Jayce’s laughter broke the silence, drawing Viktor’s gaze. He stood a few feet away, leaning casually against a workbench, recounting something animatedly. His eyes sparkled, and his grin was wide and easy. It was a look Viktor knew well, one that never failed to stir a bittersweet warmth in his chest.

The warmth quickly twisted into something sharper when Jayce mentioned her name.

“And Mel had this idea about integrating aesthetics into the design,” Jayce said, his voice tinged with admiration. “She’s got such a unique way of thinking, you know? It’s like she sees things from a completely different perspective.”

Viktor’s grip on his tool tightened. He tried to focus on the task at hand, but the ache in his chest made it impossible. “Mel seems to inspire you greatly,” he said, his tone carefully neutral.

Jayce didn’t notice the strain in Viktor’s voice. “She does. I mean, she’s brilliant, Vik. And confident, and—” He paused, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. “Sorry, I’m rambling.”

“No, it’s fine,” Viktor said quickly, his eyes fixed on the hexcore. “It’s... good to hear you speak so passionately.”

Jayce frowned slightly, stepping closer. “You sure you’re okay? You seem... I don’t know, distant tonight.”

“I’m simply tired,” Viktor replied, keeping his tone clipped. He didn’t trust himself to say more. Not when the words he wanted to spill were so far removed from what Jayce wanted to hear.

Jayce’s concern deepened. He reached out, placing a hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Hey, if something’s bothering you, you can talk to me. You know that, right?”

Viktor froze under the weight of Jayce’s touch. For a moment, he considered it—letting the words tumble out, admitting the feelings he’d buried for so long. But what would be the point? Jayce’s heart was clearly elsewhere.

“It’s nothing,” Viktor said finally, forcing a small, strained smile. “You should not worry.”

Jayce didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push further. “Alright,” he said softly, giving Viktor’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Viktor nodded, his throat too tight to form a reply. He watched as Jayce turned away, his attention already drifting back to thoughts of Mel. The ache in Viktor’s chest deepened, but he swallowed it down, burying it beneath layers of logic and reason.

He couldn’t let himself hope for something that wasn’t meant to be. Jayce was his friend, his partner in their shared dream of progress. That would have to be enough.

And yet, as Viktor returned to his work, the memory of Jayce’s touch lingered, a cruel reminder of what could never be.

Viktor tried to focus on his work, but every sound Jayce made, every glance he stole, only added to the weight in his chest. He wasn’t sure when it had happened—when his admiration for Jayce had shifted into something deeper, something unspoken, something that felt like a slow burn he couldn’t extinguish. 

It had started as simple respect, the way Jayce’s brilliance and drive had drawn Viktor in. But somewhere along the way, those feelings had evolved, becoming something more complex and impossible to ignore. Yet Viktor could never tell him. Not when Jayce’s eyes lit up every time he spoke about Mel, or when he smiled in that way only someone in love could.

The quiet of the lab stretched between them, suffocating in its silence. Viktor’s hands moved automatically, adjusting the hexcore component with the precision he was known for, but inside, everything felt out of sync. Jayce’s laughter still echoed in his mind.

“Viktor,” Jayce said suddenly, his voice cutting through the fog of Viktor’s thoughts. He was standing beside him again, his gaze curious. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem... off tonight.”

Viktor clenched his jaw. His heart thundered against his ribs, but he forced himself to meet Jayce’s eyes. Don’t say it. Don’t make it worse.

“I told you, Jayce,” Viktor said quietly, his voice steady despite the turmoil. “I am fine. Just... preoccupied.”

Jayce didn’t look convinced. He stepped a little closer, his hand brushing against Viktor’s arm, a gesture so casual, so unknowing, that it nearly shattered Viktor’s resolve.

"You can talk to me, you know," Jayce repeated softly, his voice almost pleading. "Whatever it is, it's okay."

Viktor’s breath hitched. He didn’t trust himself to speak, the words tangled in his throat. He didn’t want to make Jayce feel guilty, or worse—he didn’t want to hear Jayce talk about Mel again, not like this. Not when every mention of her was another knife twisting in his side.

Viktor swallowed hard. “It’s not... it’s nothing to discuss,” he said, the words sounding hollow even to his own ears.

Jayce’s frown deepened. “That’s not true, Viktor. We’ve known each other long enough to know when something’s wrong.”

For a long moment, Viktor said nothing, staring at the table in front of him, his hands gripping the edge. He wanted to pull away, to put distance between them, but he couldn’t. Jayce was too close, his presence too overwhelming. Every second that passed felt like the air was growing thinner.

“I just...” Viktor started, his voice faltering for the first time. He took a breath, gathering his courage, knowing full well that if he let this out, it would change everything. “I just do not know how to... how to share something with you that you cannot return. It is foolish.”

Jayce tilted his head, clearly not understanding. “What do you mean?”

Viktor’s hands tightened into fists, nails digging into his palms. “I care for you, Jayce—more than I should. And I know... that you are not mine to care for. But I cannot turn it off.” He looked away, his chest tight with both the confession and the sting of knowing it would never be returned. “I am sorry. I should not have said anything.”

There was a long silence, and Viktor was afraid to look up, afraid of seeing pity or, worse, discomfort in Jayce’s eyes. But when Jayce’s voice finally broke through, it was quiet, almost tender.

“Viktor...” Jayce’s hand landed gently on his arm, but Viktor couldn’t bear to look at him. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why carry that alone?”

Viktor laughed bitterly, the sound foreign to his own ears. “And what would you have done? What could you do?”

“I... I don’t know,” Jayce admitted, his voice soft, almost regretful. “But I don’t want you to feel like you have to carry it alone. You’re important to me, Viktor. More than you realize.”

Viktor finally met Jayce’s eyes, heart hammering in his chest. For a moment, he thought he saw something there—something in Jayce’s expression that hinted at a possibility, a flicker of something more. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a look of concern.

“I don’t want to lose our partnership,” Jayce continued, his voice steady now, though the undercurrent of uncertainty was still there. “I... I care about you too, Viktor. I do.”

Viktor’s heart sank as the words fell into place. But not in the way I need, he realized. Jayce cared about him as a friend, as a colleague, but not in the way Viktor longed for. Not in the way that could heal the ache in his chest.

He forced a smile, though it felt like it was breaking his face. “Then let us continue to work together,” he said quietly. “That is enough.”

Jayce looked like he wanted to say more, but he didn’t. Instead, he simply nodded, his hand lingering on Viktor’s arm for a beat longer than necessary, as though offering some kind of silent comfort.

Viktor nodded once more, a brief, sharp movement that signaled the end of the conversation. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep pretending that he wasn’t in love with someone who would never love him back. But for now, he would swallow it all down—bury it beneath the layers of logic and reason that were the only things he had left to hold onto.

For now, that would have to be enough.

Chapter Text

The quiet of Viktor's room was broken only by the faint ticking of a clock and the rustling of papers piled high on the nearby desk. The air felt heavier than usual, a tension simmering beneath the surface as Jayce stood near the window, his hands shoved into his pockets. Viktor sat on the edge of his bed, his cane resting against the nightstand, his sharp gaze flickering between the floor and Jayce.

“Jayce,” Viktor finally said, his voice quieter than usual. “Why are you here?”

Jayce turned, his eyes catching Viktor’s in the dim light. “Because I couldn’t stay away,” he admitted, his voice low but brimming with emotion. “You’ve been pulling back, and I can’t... I can’t stand it.”

Viktor’s brow furrowed, his hands gripping the edge of the bed tightly. “You exaggerate. I have been busy.”

Jayce shook his head, taking a step closer. “No, Viktor. Don’t do that. Don’t push me away and pretend it’s nothing. I know you.”

Viktor’s breath hitched, his defenses wavering as Jayce closed the distance between them. “And what is it that you want from me?” Viktor asked, his voice trembling despite his efforts to remain composed.

“You,” Jayce said simply, the word hanging in the air between them. “All of you.”

Viktor’s eyes widened slightly, his composure cracking under the weight of Jayce’s confession. “Jayce...”

Before Viktor could form another protest, Jayce knelt in front of him, his hands reaching for Viktor’s. He held them firmly, grounding him, as his gaze bore into Viktor’s with an intensity that sent a shiver down his spine.

“I mean it, Viktor,” Jayce said, his voice unwavering. “I don’t care about the walls you put up or the excuses you make. You mean more to me than anyone or anything else. And I’m done pretending that I don’t feel this.”

Viktor’s lips parted, his breath shallow as his heart raced in his chest. He wanted to argue, to tell Jayce that this was foolish, that they couldn’t afford distractions like this. But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, all he could do was stare at Jayce, his resolve crumbling under the weight of his feelings.

Jayce leaned closer, his hands sliding up to cradle Viktor’s face. “Tell me you don’t feel the same,” Jayce whispered, his voice a challenge and a plea. “Tell me, and I’ll stop.”

Viktor’s throat tightened, the truth clawing its way out despite his fear. “I cannot,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

That was all Jayce needed. He surged forward, capturing Viktor’s lips in a kiss that was both desperate and tender. Viktor froze for a moment, his mind racing, before he gave in, his hands tangling in Jayce’s shirt as he pulled him closer. 

The kiss deepened, years of unspoken emotions pouring out as their bodies pressed together. Jayce’s hands roamed, one sliding into Viktor’s hair while the other settled on his waist, anchoring him. Viktor gasped against Jayce’s lips, his cane clattering to the floor as he clung to him, his mind clouded with nothing but the feel of Jayce against him.

When they finally broke apart, both were breathing heavily, their foreheads resting together as they tried to catch their breath. Viktor’s fingers curled into the fabric of Jayce’s shirt, his voice unsteady as he spoke.

“This is... reckless,” Viktor said, though his words lacked conviction.

Jayce chuckled softly, his thumb brushing over Viktor’s cheek. “Maybe. But it’s real. And I don’t care how reckless it is if it means I get to be with you.”

Viktor closed his eyes, a shaky smile tugging at his lips. For the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself to believe in something outside of logic and reason—something he couldn’t calculate or control. 

“You are insufferable,” Viktor murmured, though there was no heat in his words.

Jayce grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of Viktor’s mouth. “And you wouldn’t have me any other way.” 

Viktor let out a soft laugh, pulling Jayce closer once more. For tonight, at least, they could leave the rest of the world behind.

Jayce couldn’t help but smile as he felt Viktor relax in his arms. He shifted slightly, sitting beside Viktor on the edge of the bed while keeping one arm securely around him. The closeness was intoxicating—Viktor’s sharp edges softened in this moment, his usual guarded demeanor melting away. Jayce’s hand found Viktor’s, lacing their fingers together as he brought them to rest between them.

“I didn’t think you’d let me in like this,” Jayce said softly, his voice breaking the quiet that had settled over the room.

Viktor glanced at their joined hands, his thumb brushing over Jayce’s knuckles. “I did not think I would either,” he admitted, his tone quieter, more vulnerable than Jayce had ever heard before. “It is... not easy for me.”

“I know,” Jayce said, leaning in to press a kiss to Viktor’s temple. “You don’t have to explain. I’ll wait as long as you need.”

Viktor tilted his head, his golden eyes meeting Jayce’s with a mixture of uncertainty and something deeper—something that looked an awful lot like trust. “You are far too patient for someone who is so impulsive.”

Jayce laughed, the sound warm and rich as it filled the small room. “I think you’re the only one who sees me that way,” he said, his grin softening into a gentle smile. “But maybe it’s because you bring out the best in me.”

Viktor shook his head, a faint blush coloring his pale cheeks. “You speak as if I am some great influence on you, yet all I do is keep you from blowing yourself up.”

“That’s not all you do,” Jayce countered, his hand tightening slightly around Viktor’s. “You keep me grounded, Viktor. You make me want to be better—not just for you, but for everything we’re working toward. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

Viktor looked away, his lips pressing into a thin line as if trying to suppress the emotions Jayce’s words stirred in him. “You give me too much credit.”

“No,” Jayce said firmly, his free hand reaching out to tilt Viktor’s chin so he couldn’t look away. “I give you exactly as much credit as you deserve. Maybe more than you’re ready to see, but it’s the truth.”

Viktor’s eyes searched Jayce’s as if looking for any sign of doubt or insincerity. When he found none, he let out a soft, almost resigned sigh. “You are relentless.”

Jayce smirked, leaning in until their foreheads touched. “And you wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at Viktor’s lips, and Jayce felt his heart swell at the sight. He leaned in again, capturing Viktor’s lips in another kiss, this one slower, more deliberate. Viktor responded cautiously at first, but soon he melted into it, his fingers curling into the fabric of Jayce’s shirt as he pulled him closer.

Jayce shifted, his hand finding its way to the small of Viktor’s back, drawing him in until there was no space left between them. He kissed Viktor like he was trying to pour every unspoken feeling, every ounce of admiration and love he had into that one moment. And Viktor kissed him back like he was finally letting himself feel it, letting himself believe it.

When they finally broke apart, Viktor rested his head against Jayce’s shoulder, his breathing uneven. Jayce held him close, his fingers gently combing through Viktor’s hair as he whispered, “You don’t have to do this alone anymore. Not the work, not life, not anything. I’m here. Always.”

Viktor didn’t respond immediately, but the way his arms tightened around Jayce spoke louder than words ever could. For the first time in a long time, Viktor allowed himself to be held, to be cared for, to simply be.

And for Jayce, that was everything.

Chapter Text

Viktor adjusted his jacket as he stepped out of the car, his eyes scanning the busy street for a moment before settling back on Jayce, who was already grinning, clearly excited. “Are you sure you want to watch this?” Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow as he adjusted his glasses, his usual stoic expression softened by a subtle smile. “You know it’s a science fiction movie, right?”

Jayce chuckled, shrugging playfully. “Oh, come on, Viktor. You know I love a good plot twist. Plus, I hear it’s got some insane special effects.” He pulled Viktor along toward the entrance of the theater, his excitement contagious.

Viktor huffed in mock exasperation, though he couldn’t help but feel a warmth spreading through him. Jayce’s energy was infectious, and no matter how much he pretended to be indifferent, he was looking forward to this night, too. “I suppose I can appreciate the technical aspects of it,” Viktor muttered, though there was a lightheartedness in his tone that he couldn’t hide.

Once inside, they grabbed a couple of tickets, and Jayce immediately started steering Viktor toward the concession stand. “Popcorn? Nachos? I’m feeling something salty,” Jayce asked, raising an eyebrow.

Viktor glanced over the offerings. “I’ll stick to water, thank you. The thought of butter on popcorn is... excessive.”

Jayce rolled his eyes, though his grin never faltered. “You’re impossible. But fine, water for you, and I’ll get my popcorn and maybe some candy. You can’t escape the joy of movie theater snacks.”

As they made their way into the theater, Viktor settled into his seat, adjusting his sleeves and glancing around. Jayce, on the other hand, was practically bouncing in his seat, still teasing Viktor about the movie.

When the lights dimmed and the previews began, Jayce leaned over, his voice low. “This is going to be so good, Viktor. I can already tell.”

Viktor smirked, glancing at Jayce’s overly excited face. “We’ll see,” he murmured, though there was a soft gleam in his eyes that suggested he wasn’t as indifferent as he let on.

As the movie started, Viktor found himself drawn into the story more than he expected. The special effects were, admittedly, impressive, and the plot, though predictable at times, had a few moments that made him think. Jayce’s occasional commentary during quieter scenes, whether it was a whispered observation or an excited exclamation, made him chuckle, even if he tried to hide it.

Halfway through, Jayce’s hand casually brushed against Viktor’s, the warmth of his touch a small but meaningful gesture in the dark theater. Viktor looked down at their hands, and for a second, he considered pulling away. But then he felt Jayce’s thumb softly rub against his, a quiet reassurance that made Viktor’s heart beat a little faster than it usually did. He didn’t pull away.

By the time the movie reached its climax, Viktor was fully engaged, his attention fixed on the screen. Jayce, however, was still glancing at him with a grin every few minutes, clearly enjoying both the movie and the fact that he’d dragged Viktor out to enjoy it with him.

When the credits finally rolled and the theater lights flickered back on, Jayce immediately turned to Viktor, his eyes wide with excitement. “That was awesome! What did you think?”

Viktor adjusted his glasses, his lips quirking into a small, almost imperceptible smile. “It wasn’t terrible,” he said, his voice dry, but there was warmth in his gaze.

Jayce laughed, leaning closer to Viktor, their shoulders brushing. “You’re impossible. But I’ll take that as a win.” He bumped his shoulder against Viktor’s playfully. “I’m glad you came with me.”

Viktor turned toward him, his expression softening further. “I’m glad too,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s... nice, this. Being with you.”

Jayce’s smile softened, and he reached over to squeeze Viktor’s hand. “Yeah, it really is,” he agreed, his voice full of warmth. “Let’s do this again sometime.”

Viktor nodded, feeling a little lighter than he had when they’d first walked into the theater. For a moment, it felt like the whole world outside of the movie theater didn’t matter. It was just him and Jayce, sharing a quiet, simple joy. And somehow, that was more than enough.

Chapter Text

The tide rolled in, foamy waves licking Viktor’s boots as he stood on the rocky shore, notebook clutched in one hand and a specimen jar in the other. The sun hung low on the horizon, painting the ocean in hues of gold and crimson. Viktor squinted against the glare, his eyes scanning the water's surface for any sign of movement. The reports had been vague—fishermen whispering about strange, humanlike figures slipping beneath the waves—but Viktor, a man of science, needed more than folklore.

He stepped closer to the edge, adjusting his scarf against the brisk sea breeze. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, scribbling down the readings from the sensors he’d planted earlier that week. “The salinity is stable, yet the biodiversity here is far more advanced than expected.”

A sudden splash drew his attention. Viktor froze, his heart pounding as ripples disturbed the glassy surface of the water. Slowly, cautiously, he stepped back, watching as a head of wet, shimmering hair emerged. Then came the face—strong, yet ethereal, with striking blue eyes that seemed to glow faintly even in the dimming light. Viktor’s breath caught as the figure pulled itself further out of the water, revealing broad shoulders and the iridescent scales of a tail that glimmered like a kaleidoscope.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” the merman said, his voice deep and resonant, carrying easily over the sound of the waves.

Viktor, ever composed despite the surreal situation, straightened his posture. “Neither are you, I imagine,” he replied, his tone steady but tinged with curiosity.

The merman cocked his head, a grin tugging at his lips. “You’re brave for a land-dweller.”

“Or foolish,” Viktor quipped, his grip tightening on his notebook. “I assume you are what the locals have been speaking of. Do you have a name?”

The merman hesitated, his tail swishing just beneath the water. “Jayce,” he said finally, his gaze steady on Viktor. “And you?”

“Viktor,” he replied, his scientific fascination overtaking any lingering fear. “You are remarkable.”

Jayce laughed, the sound like a wave crashing against rocks. “You think so? Most of your kind would see me as a threat.”

Viktor shook his head, stepping closer to the waterline. “I see you as an anomaly—a magnificent one, at that.”

Jayce smirked, his ego clearly not immune to flattery. “And what do you intend to do with this discovery, Viktor? Tell your colleagues. Write papers?”

Viktor frowned, the question catching him off guard. “No. They would exploit you,” he said after a moment. “That is not my intention.”

Jayce regarded him carefully, his tail flicking again, sending droplets of water sparkling in the fading sunlight. “Then why are you here?”

“To understand,” Viktor answered simply. “There is so much we do not know about the ocean and its inhabitants. You could be the key to uncovering secrets we’ve only dreamed of.”

Jayce hummed, his expression softening. “You speak with conviction. I like that.” He swam closer, his torso now fully out of the water, the muscles of his arms and chest glistening as he rested his elbows on the rock Viktor stood near. “But tell me, Viktor, do you ever think about what lies beyond your world?”

Viktor’s lips parted slightly, his sharp mind momentarily stunned by Jayce’s sudden closeness. “Often,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “It is why I do this work.”

Jayce’s grin widened, and he leaned in further, his face mere inches from Viktor’s. “Then maybe we’re not so different,” he murmured, his voice dropping into something softer, more intimate.

Viktor swallowed hard, his heart racing as Jayce’s hand reached out, warm and wet as it brushed against his own. The touch was electric, a connection sparking between them that neither fully understood. Viktor, a man of logic, found himself caught in something that defied explanation.

“You should be careful,” Jayce said, his thumb brushing over Viktor’s knuckles. “The sea has a way of pulling you in, making you want more.”

Viktor’s breath hitched, his eyes locking onto Jayce’s. “Perhaps I do want more,” he said, the words escaping before he could stop them.

Jayce’s grin softened into something more genuine, his gaze holding Viktor’s as if searching for the truth in his words. “Then come find me again,” he said, slipping back into the water. “But be warned, Viktor: the deeper you go, the harder it is to return.”

Before Viktor could respond, Jayce disappeared beneath the waves, leaving nothing but ripples behind. Viktor stood there for a long moment, his hand still warm where Jayce had touched it. His notebook hung forgotten at his side as he stared out at the ocean, the scientist in him battling with the man who had just experienced something extraordinary.

The sea whispered its secrets, and Viktor knew he would be back.

Chapter Text

Snow dusted the windows of the cozy workshop, soft flakes melting against the warm glass. Inside, the usually stark and clinical lab was transformed, strung with twinkling lights and garlands. The air smelled faintly of pine and spiced cider, and laughter echoed as friends gathered to celebrate the holiday season.

Viktor stood near the workbench, nursing a mug of tea as he watched the festivities unfold. He was dressed simply, his usual lab attire replaced by a knitted sweater courtesy of Mel, who had insisted he needed something “festive.” The deep red fabric, adorned with little gold stars, felt strange against his skin, but the warmth it provided was welcome.

Across the room, Jayce was the center of attention as always, regaling a small group with an exaggerated story of their latest project’s success. His booming laugh and animated gestures were a stark contrast to Viktor’s reserved presence, yet the two of them had always balanced each other.

“Viktor!” Mel called, waving him over to the makeshift refreshment table. “You should try the cookies Caitlyn brought. They’re amazing!”

Reluctantly, Viktor made his way over, placing his mug down as Mel handed him a gingerbread cookie shaped like a star. He nibbled at it, offering a small nod of approval before Mel grinned and wandered off to join the others.

Jayce, noticing Viktor’s rare participation, excused himself from his audience and ambled over, a mischievous glint in his eye. “You’re actually eating something other than protein bars? It’s a Christmas miracle.”

Viktor rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the slight upward twitch of his lips. “The cookies are tolerable,” he replied dryly, though his tone was warmer than usual.

As they chatted, Jayce reached for the garland above the workbench to adjust a light that had gone out. Viktor glanced up, his sharp eyes catching the small sprig of green and white just above Jayce’s hand. His heart skipped a beat.

“Jayce,” Viktor said, his voice unusually hesitant, “do you realize what you’re standing under?”

Jayce frowned, following Viktor’s gaze. His expression brightened as he noticed the mistletoe, hanging innocently above them. A slow, teasing grin spread across his face as he turned back to Viktor. “Oh, would you look at that?”

Viktor’s cheeks flushed, and he looked away, fiddling with the edge of his sweater. “It’s merely a decorative tradition,” he muttered. “No need to—”

Jayce interrupted him with a soft laugh. “Viktor, it’s Christmas. And a tradition’s a tradition.” His voice was light, but there was something sincere in the way he looked at Viktor, his eyes filled with a fondness that made Viktor’s heart race.

Before Viktor could protest further, Jayce leaned in, his hand brushing lightly against Viktor’s arm as he pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. It was quick, barely more than a touch, but it left Viktor frozen in place, his face growing warmer by the second.

When Jayce pulled back, his grin was softer, less teasing. “Merry Christmas, Viktor.”

Viktor blinked, his mind catching up with what had just happened. Slowly, he met Jayce’s gaze, his lips quirking into the faintest of smiles. “Merry Christmas, Jayce.”

Across the room, someone whistled, and both men turned to see Sky pointing at them with a triumphant grin. “I knew it!” she called, earning laughter and a round of cheers from the others.

Viktor groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, while Jayce threw an arm around his shoulders, laughing unabashedly. “Well, looks like the cat’s out of the bag,” Jayce said, clearly unbothered by the attention. “Guess we’ll just have to own it.”

Viktor sighed, though there was no real annoyance in it. “You are impossible,” he muttered.

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jayce replied with a wink, his arm still comfortably around Viktor as the two of them rejoined the party.

Chapter Text

The evening was perfect—or at least, that was the plan. Jayce had spent weeks meticulously organizing the proposal, going over every detail in his head. A quiet dinner at Viktor’s favorite rooftop garden restaurant, a custom-made ring with engravings in Viktor’s native language, and a heartfelt speech he’d rehearsed so many times it was practically etched into his brain.

What could go wrong?

Everything.

It started with the weather. The forecast had promised a clear night, but as Jayce and Viktor stepped out of the elevator onto the rooftop, the first fat drops of rain began to fall. Viktor paused, raising an unimpressed eyebrow.

“I thought you checked the weather, Jayce,” he said, adjusting the lapel of his coat as the rain turned from a drizzle to a steady downpour.

“I did!” Jayce said, panicking as the waiter scrambled to move their table under the awning. “It wasn’t supposed to rain!”

Viktor gave him a skeptical look but followed him to the table without complaint. They sat, water dripping from the edges of their chairs despite the awning’s limited protection. Jayce plastered on a grin, determined not to let the rain ruin the moment.

“It’s fine, totally fine,” he muttered under his breath as he reached into his pocket to check the ring box. “We’ll still have a great night.”

Then came the appetizers. Jayce had arranged for a special dish—a nod to Viktor’s homeland—only for the waiter to emerge with... fish sticks.

Viktor stared at the plate in silence, then turned to Jayce, his lips twitching. “Is this... a cultural misunderstanding, or are you trying to tell me something about your cooking skills?”

Jayce flushed. “It’s not supposed to be this! I ordered something else, I swear!”

Viktor chuckled, clearly amused despite the chaos. “Well, at least it pairs well with the rain.”

Jayce groaned internally but pressed on, waiting for the perfect moment to propose. That moment, he decided, was dessert.

Unfortunately, dessert never came. The waiter—an overly enthusiastic trainee—tripped while carrying their carefully plated cake. The tray went flying, and with it, the ring box that Jayce had sneakily given him to deliver on the plate. The box landed unceremoniously in Viktor’s glass of water, sending a splash across the table.

Viktor blinked, staring at the ring box now bobbing in his drink. “I assume this was part of the plan?”

Jayce buried his face in his hands. “No. No, it absolutely was not.”

Despite the absurdity of the situation, Viktor’s lips quirked into a smile. He reached into the glass, fishing out the soggy box and opening it to reveal the ring inside. The engravings were slightly blurred from the water, but the sentiment was clear.

Viktor looked up at Jayce, his expression softening. “You were going to propose?”

Jayce let out a shaky laugh, running a hand through his damp hair. “I am proposing. Or at least, I was trying to. This was supposed to be romantic and perfect, but everything keeps going wrong.” He gestured helplessly at the rain, the fish sticks, the soaked table. “I just wanted it to be special.”

Viktor reached across the table, taking Jayce’s hand in his. “Jayce, you are a brilliant inventor, but even you can’t control the weather or the occasional clumsy waiter. This is... chaotic, yes, but it’s also very you.”

Jayce blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “Is that... a good thing?”

Viktor smirked, slipping the ring onto his finger. “It is. And my answer is yes.”

Jayce’s jaw dropped. “Wait, really? Even after—”

“Even after everything,” Viktor said with a chuckle, squeezing Jayce’s hand. “I don’t need perfection. I just need you.”

The rain continued to fall, soaking both of them to the bone, but Jayce didn’t care. Viktor said yes, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Text

Jayce had worked at the little corner café for a few months now, perfecting his barista skills while becoming surprisingly fond of the job. It was the kind of place where everyone knew your name, or at least, they knew the drink you ordered. And Viktor, well, Viktor was a regular. Every Tuesday and Thursday at 10:15 AM, like clockwork, Viktor would walk in, his crisp suit unruffled, his sharp gaze scanning the menu before he inevitably ordered the same thing—black coffee, no sugar, no cream.

Jayce had always found Viktor intriguing. His quiet confidence, his piercing intellect that seemed to hold so many thoughts, yet so few words—there was something about him that made Jayce’s heart race every time he stepped up to the counter. And today, he’d finally made up his mind. He was going to ask Viktor out.

The only problem? Jayce had absolutely no idea how to do it.

He leaned against the counter, watching as Viktor sat at his usual spot by the window, his attention buried in a book. Jayce couldn’t even focus on the espresso machine, his thoughts constantly drifting back to the nervous flutter in his stomach. How was he supposed to do this? He didn’t want to scare Viktor off, but he also couldn’t stand not knowing if Viktor felt the same way.

After a few moments of intense inner turmoil, Jayce had an idea. A small one, but an idea nonetheless. He grabbed a napkin from the counter and a pen, scribbling quickly.

“Want to hang out?” he wrote, drawing a small box for ‘yes’ and another for ‘no.’ 

He stared at it for a moment, second-guessing himself, but then shook his head. He wasn’t going to get anywhere if he kept overthinking it. He folded the napkin and walked over to Viktor, who hadn’t noticed him yet.

“Your usual,” Jayce said, setting the black coffee down in front of Viktor with a forced casualness.

Viktor looked up, his sharp eyes meeting Jayce’s. “Thank you, Jayce,” he said, his voice as composed as always.

Jayce gave a nervous smile, placing the folded napkin next to the cup. “Just a little something extra today,” he added, his heart racing as he backed away slightly. “You know, for fun.” 

Viktor glanced down at the napkin, then back up at Jayce, his expression unreadable. He took the napkin in hand and unfolded it, his gaze flicking to the boxes as if he were reading some kind of puzzle. He raised an eyebrow, clearly puzzled, but didn't say anything right away.

“Is there a... reason for this?” Viktor asked after a beat, his voice soft but with a slight tilt of curiosity.

Jayce, who had been anxiously watching, let out a nervous laugh. “Uh, I don’t know. I mean, I just... thought it might be a nice way to—” He gestured vaguely, too flustered to finish the sentence.

Viktor’s lips twitched, and he looked at the boxes again. “I see. Well, I suppose I should—” He leaned forward slightly, staring at the ‘yes’ and ‘no’ boxes with complete seriousness. “I’ll go with... yes.”

Jayce blinked, his heart skipping a beat. “Wait, really? You... you choose ‘yes’?” he asked, struggling to keep his voice steady.

Viktor nodded, still looking at the napkin. “Yes. I’m quite interested in what exactly I’m agreeing to, though.”

Jayce’s brain briefly short-circuited. “Oh! Right. I, uh... I meant, like, maybe you’d want to hang out sometime? You know, outside of here. Not that there’s anything wrong with here. But I mean—” He cut himself off, suddenly aware that he was rambling like an idiot.

Viktor, despite his usual reserved nature, couldn’t help but smile at the sight of Jayce’s awkwardness. “I see. A date, then?”

Jayce froze, realizing what Viktor had just said, and for a split second, he felt like the ground had shifted beneath him. “Wait, wait. You... you want to go on a date with me?” His voice cracked slightly, and he hated how unprepared he felt.

Viktor’s smile widened just a touch, his eyes twinkling with a rare softness. “It appears so,” he replied, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms with a slight smirk. “Would you like to join me for dinner sometime?”

Jayce’s heart soared. He was still processing Viktor’s response, but the fact that Viktor had taken the napkin so seriously, the fact that he had answered with a 'yes'—Jayce couldn't believe it.

“I... I’d love that,” Jayce said, still trying to wrap his head around the reality of it all. “Really.”

Viktor nodded, setting the napkin down on the table. “Then it’s a date.” He sipped his coffee, clearly content with how the situation had played out.

Jayce, now grinning like a fool, finally let out a deep breath. “I... this was way easier than I thought.” He paused for a moment, then added with a laugh, “Maybe next time, I’ll just give you a simple ‘yes or no’ box about my feelings.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “I look forward to it, Jayce,” he said, his tone lighter than usual. 

And just like that, Jayce realized that maybe his silly napkin had been the best thing he could have done after all.

Chapter Text

The air grew heavier as they descended into Zaun, the smog and chaos of the Undercity creeping into every sense. Jayce had resisted this trip for weeks, his concerns about safety and practicality overshadowing his curiosity. But Viktor had a way of convincing him—a subtle blend of logic and that rare, genuine smile that Jayce could never say no to.

Now, walking through the winding alleys of Zaun, Jayce couldn’t shake the tension in his shoulders. He stayed close to Viktor, his eyes darting to every shadow, every passerby. Meanwhile, Viktor moved with an ease Jayce hadn’t seen before—like the streets themselves were welcoming an old friend home.

“Relax, Jayce,” Viktor said, his cane tapping rhythmically on the cobblestones as he led the way. “Zaun is not as dangerous as you imagine. If you know where to look, it can even be... beautiful.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow, glancing at a particularly ominous alley. “If you say so. But I’m not sure ‘beautiful’ is the word I’d use.”

Viktor chuckled softly, stopping in front of a small, unassuming shop. “Come. This place has the best-fried dumplings in Zaun.”

Jayce hesitated, eyeing the rickety sign above the door. “You’ve been here before?”

“Many times,” Viktor replied, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “As a boy, I would save whatever I could to buy one dumpling. It was worth it every time.”

Jayce followed him inside, watching as Viktor exchanged a few words with the owner, who greeted him like an old friend. Soon, they were sitting at a cramped table with a plate of steaming dumplings between them.

Viktor picked one up with his fingers, motioning for Jayce to do the same. “Try it. You might be surprised.”

Jayce hesitated but eventually took a bite. The burst of flavor caught him off guard, and he found himself nodding appreciatively. “Okay, I’ll admit, this is good.”

Viktor’s eyes sparkled with quiet pride. “I told you.”

The day continued like this, with Viktor guiding Jayce through the maze of Zaun, stopping at places that held meaning to him. There was a crumbling playground where Viktor had spent countless afternoons as a child, a bustling market where he’d marveled at the ingenuity of Zaunite inventions, and even a small, half-hidden library where he’d spent hours pouring over books, fueling his insatiable curiosity.

Every stop was a window into Viktor’s past, and Jayce found himself seeing his friend in a new light. This wasn’t the reserved and focused Viktor he knew from the lab—this was Viktor at home, Viktor at peace.

Finally, as Zaun's artificial sun began to dim, Viktor led Jayce to their last stop: a secluded lake on the outskirts of the city. The water shimmered faintly under the glow of bioluminescent plants, casting an otherworldly light across the scene.

“I didn’t know Zaun had places like this,” Jayce said, his voice soft with wonder.

“Few people do,” Viktor replied, stepping closer to the edge of the lake. “But it was one of my favorite places as a child. My parents would bring me here when the world felt too heavy. It felt... different here. Peaceful.”

Jayce watched as Viktor gazed out at the water, his usually sharp features softened by the faint light. For a moment, Jayce forgot about the smog, the chaos, the danger. All he could see was Viktor, standing in a place that clearly meant so much to him.

“Thank you for bringing me here,” Jayce said quietly, stepping beside him.

Viktor turned to him, his lips curving into that rare, genuine smile. “I wanted you to understand,” he said simply. “Zaun is not perfect, but it is part of who I am. If we are to continue working together—if we are to continue at all—it is important to me that you see this part of my world.”

Jayce felt a warmth spread through his chest, his earlier wariness melting away. “I see it,” he said, his voice steady. “And I see you, Viktor. All of you.”

Viktor held his gaze for a moment, his eyes searching Jayce’s face. Then, with a small nod, he turned back to the lake. “Good,” he said, his voice soft. “That is all I could hope for.”

The two of them stood there in silence, the faint glow of the lake reflecting in their eyes, as the chaotic world of Zaun faded into the background.

Chapter Text

The lab was in ruins. Broken glass crunched under Jayce’s boots as he stepped forward, Hextech hammer humming with barely contained energy. Sparks flickered in the dim light, casting eerie shadows on the walls. Across from him, Viktor stood tall, his frame silhouetted by the glow of his latest creation—something pulsating with power, something beyond control.

“Viktor.” Jayce’s voice was firm, but there was a crack in it, a hesitation that he hated. “We don’t have to do this.”

Viktor exhaled, his artificial brace whirring as he took a slow step forward. His golden eyes gleamed, calculating, and yet... there was something else there. “And yet, here we are,” he murmured, voice softer than Jayce expected. “You always feared what I could become. Now you get to see it.”

Jayce gritted his teeth. “I never feared you—I feared losing you.”

Viktor tilted his head, amusement flickering across his face. “Then why raise your weapon against me?”

Jayce didn’t have an answer—not one that would matter anymore.

And then Viktor moved.

A flash of light, a pulse of energy, and suddenly Jayce was forced to block, his hammer colliding with Viktor’s arm as raw power surged between them. The impact sent them both skidding backward, and Jayce barely had time to brace before Viktor was on him again—fluid, relentless, dangerous.

The fight was fast, too fast. Viktor wasn’t just fighting—he was toying with him, moving too close, too intimately. Every dodge, every counter brought them within inches of each other, their bodies brushing in ways that sent shivers down Jayce’s spine for all the wrong reasons.

Viktor’s breath was warm against his ear as he pivoted behind him, fingers grazing Jayce’s wrist just before forcing him to spin and meet his gaze. “You’re hesitating,” Viktor observed, voice edged with something sharp, something almost amused. “Afraid to hurt me?”

Jayce’s chest rose and fell with ragged breaths. “You know I am.”

Viktor’s lips curled at that, the ghost of a smirk. “How sweet.”

Jayce barely had time to react before Viktor shoved him against the nearest console, pressing in close, their bodies flush against each other. The hum of Viktor’s modified frame vibrated through Jayce’s own, sending a shudder down his spine. He could hear the hitch in Viktor’s breath—whether from exertion or something else entirely, he wasn’t sure.

The grip on his wrist tightened. The air between them grew thick.

“You should fight back,” Viktor whispered.

Jayce’s throat went dry. His grip tightened around his hammer, but he didn’t swing. Couldn’t. Not with the way Viktor was looking at him. Not with the way Viktor’s fingers, half-metal, half-warm flesh, traced the edge of his collarbone like this was something else entirely.

“You’re enjoying this,” Jayce accused, voice hoarse.

Viktor chuckled, the sound low, dark. “Perhaps.”

The tension snapped.

Jayce twisted his body, breaking free and shoving Viktor back, but the damage was already done. His pulse was racing for reasons he didn’t want to examine. Viktor licked his lips, gaze sharp, triumphant.

“You won’t win,” Jayce warned, steadying his stance.

Viktor exhaled, eyes glowing in the dim light. “Then stop me.”

And just like that, they collided again—fighting, grasping, losing themselves in the only language they still understood.

Jayce barely had time to think before Viktor was on him again—quicker than he should be, his movements refined, almost unnatural. It wasn’t just raw intelligence guiding him now; it was something else. Something more .

Jayce swung his hammer, aiming to disable rather than hurt, but Viktor evaded effortlessly, moving just out of reach, forcing Jayce to overextend. In the next breath, Viktor closed the distance, catching Jayce’s wrist mid-swing.

For a brief, breathless second, they were locked in place, bodies straining against each other. Jayce could feel the unnatural strength in Viktor’s grip, could hear the whirring hum of his augmentations so close to his ear.

“You’ve gotten stronger,” Jayce muttered, his voice low.

Viktor smirked. “And you are still holding back.”

A calculated shift of weight—Viktor hooked a leg behind Jayce’s and twisted, using Jayce’s own force against him. Before he could react, his back collided with the metal floor, Viktor landing on top of him with a sharp clang .

Jayce grunted, more stunned than hurt, his hammer knocked out of reach. Viktor loomed over him, his golden eyes flickering in the dim light, his breath warm and uneven.

“Pinned so easily?” Viktor mused, voice like silk. His fingers, half-metal, half-flesh, trailed down the fabric of Jayce’s collar, slow and deliberate. “I expected more resistance.”

Jayce’s pulse thundered in his ears. “Don’t pretend like you don’t miss this,” he shot back, voice rough, his own fingers tightening around Viktor’s forearm. “Us. Me. ”

Viktor’s smirk faltered. His grip on Jayce’s chest flexed, a moment of hesitation betraying him.

That was all Jayce needed.

With a grunt, he twisted his hips and shoved upward, reversing their positions in one swift movement. Now Viktor was on his back, eyes widening for just a moment before narrowing again, his lips curling into something that wasn’t quite anger.

Jayce was panting, his hands pressing Viktor down by his wrists. “You’re playing a dangerous game, Viktor.”

A pause.

Then, Viktor chuckled—low, breathy. His fingers twitched beneath Jayce’s grip, not struggling, but testing. “Am I?”

Jayce swallowed hard, his breath ghosting over Viktor’s cheek. He should have let go. He should have ended this right then and there.

But neither of them moved.

The air between them crackled, thick with something unspoken. The heat of the fight had turned into something else, something neither of them wanted to name.

Viktor’s gaze flickered downward—to Jayce’s lips, then back up again.

Jayce exhaled sharply. Shit.

His grip loosened just enough for Viktor to slip free. But instead of retreating, Viktor’s fingers found Jayce’s jaw, tilting his face just slightly, just enough—

The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight.

And then—

A sudden explosion rocked the lab, sending both of them sprawling apart. Jayce barely had time to curse before alarms blared, smoke filling the air.

Viktor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling shakily. His eyes met Jayce’s—dazed, unreadable.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, forcing himself to breathe. “We are so not done talking about this.”

Viktor chuckled, still breathless. “Oh, I am counting on it.”

And then he was gone, slipping into the smoke, leaving Jayce kneeling there—heart hammering, skin still burning, and mind utterly wrecked.

Chapter Text

Jayce and Viktor had been engaged for a while now—long enough that the initial excitement had settled into a comfortable certainty. Their lives were busy as ever, but lately, they’d started easing into wedding planning, taking it one step at a time rather than diving in headfirst. It suited them. Neither of them had ever been ones for grand romantic gestures; their relationship had always been built on quiet understanding, shared ambition, and the occasional argument that ended with an exhausted truce.

It started small. Jayce mentioned a few venues in passing while working on a new hextech prototype. Viktor, not even looking up from his notes, hummed and said, “Something outdoors would be nice. At least for the ceremony.” That was the first real step.

Then, there were the practical discussions—guest lists, logistics, the fact that they had wildly different opinions on formality. “I refuse to wear something with shoulder pads larger than my head,” Viktor said firmly one evening, stretched out on their couch with a book.

Jayce, half-laughing, half-exasperated, replied, “You act like I’d make you wear armor to our wedding.”

“Given your track record, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

And then there were the unexpected, softer moments. Jayce finding Viktor absently doodling patterns for wedding bands in the margins of his blueprints. Viktor catching Jayce staring at a sample cake menu like it held the secrets of the universe. The slow realization that, despite all the stress, despite the overwhelming task of planning, they both actually wanted this.

Wanted a day to celebrate them, after everything.

And so, the planning continued—gradually, without rush, without pressure. Just them, figuring it out together, the way they always had.

It was easy to let the planning slide into the background of their lives, tucked between research papers, council meetings, and late nights in the lab. But every now and then, something small would nudge them forward—like when Mel, during a casual council meeting, offhandedly mentioned knowing an excellent tailor for bespoke suits.

Jayce, always one to latch onto an idea when it presented itself, turned to Viktor that evening and said, “We should probably start thinking about what we’re wearing.”

Viktor, lounging in his chair with a cup of tea, raised an eyebrow. “You mean, I should start preparing myself for you commissioning an absurdly expensive suit?”

Jayce grinned. “I wasn’t planning on going that far. But if you have a preference, now’s the time to say.”

Viktor tilted his head in thought. “Something comfortable. Elegant, but not too much. I do not intend to stand through an entire ceremony while being strangled by fabric.”

Jayce laughed. “Noted. I’ll make sure the tailor understands: ‘no strangling Viktor.’”

And so, the next step of planning fell into place. Slowly, steadily, their wedding began to take shape.

Then came the guest list. This, as it turned out, was trickier than either of them had anticipated.

“We should invite the council, right?” Jayce asked one night, sprawled out on the rug in their shared apartment, scribbling names onto a list.

Viktor, sitting on the couch, frowned. “If we do, it becomes a political event.”

Jayce groaned. “Yeah. And if we don’t, it becomes an insult.”

There was a long silence as they both considered their options. Finally, Viktor sighed. “Perhaps a compromise. A small ceremony, only close friends. Then, a reception where we endure the politics for one evening.”

Jayce looked up at him, admiration in his eyes. “That’s… actually really smart.”

Viktor smirked, sipping his tea. “You act surprised.”

And so, the list was divided: personal invitations for the people who truly mattered—their friends from the academy, a handful of trusted colleagues. And then, the broader guest list for the reception, where they would fulfill their obligations without letting it overshadow the meaning of the day.

Piece by piece, it was coming together.

Not without disagreements—Viktor was deeply skeptical about the necessity of a massive cake, while Jayce insisted that if they were going to do this, they were going to do it right—but there was a strange sort of joy in it. A reminder, amidst all the responsibilities and expectations, that this was about them.

The question of what their guests would wear came up one evening when Caitlyn stopped by for dinner. She had taken a keen interest in their wedding planning, offering both insight and the occasional sarcastic remark when Jayce got too ambitious.

“So, are you two going full formal with this?” she asked between bites of the meal Jayce had insisted on cooking. “Because if you are, I need to prepare myself for another round of my mother scrutinizing my attire.”

Viktor made a face. “Gods, no. I refuse to attend my own wedding if everyone is in stiff, miserable suits.”

Jayce chuckled. “I was thinking something refined but not too rigid. Something that lets people breathe.”

Caitlyn smirked. “So, elegant, but comfortable? That’s a vague way of saying ‘whatever you want, but don’t embarrass us.’”

Viktor sipped his wine. “Yes. Exactly that.”

Jayce leaned forward. “We could set a general guideline. Maybe jewel tones? Or, I don’t know, something that fits with the venue.”

They hadn’t yet finalized a venue, but they both leaned toward something with open air—either a garden in Piltover or somewhere quieter on the outskirts, away from the city’s towering expectations.

“I think jewel tones would work,” Viktor admitted, glancing at Jayce. “They’re classic, they suit most people, and we avoid clashing colors in photos.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Since when do you care about wedding photos?”

Viktor waved a hand dismissively. “I do not. But I care about minimizing Jayce’s stress levels. He will obsess over them if they are not perfect.”

Jayce opened his mouth to protest—then closed it again. “…That’s fair.”

“So, jewel tones, flexible but elegant dress code, no stuffy formality,” Caitlyn summarized, tapping a finger on the table. “And I assume no ridiculous hats?”

Jayce snorted. “Did you have someone in mind?”

“My mother,” Caitlyn said flatly. “If you give her an excuse, she’ll arrive in something that doubles as an airship.”

Viktor smirked. “Tell her the grooms have a strict ‘no elaborate headwear’ policy.”

Jayce laughed. “I’ll write it into the invitations.”

It was another small detail settled, another step forward. Bit by bit, their wedding was taking shape—not as a grand spectacle, but as something personal, something that felt like them. And that, more than anything, made the process feel right.

The planning took months, but somehow, it never felt rushed. Jayce and Viktor found themselves tackling each decision piece by piece—sometimes debating, sometimes compromising, always returning to the simple fact that, in the end, the only thing that truly mattered was that they were doing this together.

The venue was a garden overlooking the cliffs of Piltover, the city glittering in the distance but far enough away that it felt like a world apart. The air was crisp, the setting sun casting a golden glow over the ceremony space. A delicate arrangement of lanterns hung between wrought iron arches, flickering softly as dusk settled in. Their closest friends were gathered—Caitlyn and Vi near the front, Mel watching with an unreadable expression, Heimerdinger seated with a beaming smile.

Jayce stood tall, adjusting the cuff of his deep navy suit, trying to steady his hands. Viktor, standing across from him, was dressed in a dark plum ensemble—simple, elegant, and tailored for comfort just as he had insisted. His cane was tucked under one arm, his free hand resting easily at his side. He looked… at ease. Peaceful.

And then, it was time.

The officiant gave a warm, brief introduction before nodding to Viktor. “Viktor, when you’re ready.”

Viktor took a breath, then looked up at Jayce with the smallest, fondest smile.

“Jayce, you have always been… impossible.” A few soft chuckles rippled through the audience, but Viktor’s voice remained steady. “You are reckless, stubborn, and you take on the world as if it is yours alone to bear.” He exhaled, his expression softening. “And yet, it is that same relentless drive that has built everything we have today. That same stubbornness that made you believe in me—even when I did not. Even when I thought I was beyond saving.”

Jayce swallowed hard, his throat tight.

Viktor tilted his head, his voice dropping slightly. “I have never been a man who believed in fate. But if such a thing exists… then I know it brought me to you.” A pause, then, quieter, “And I would choose you in every lifetime.”

Jayce exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around Viktor’s hands. He hadn’t realized he was shaking until now.

The officiant gave him a small nod. “Jayce?”

Jayce let out a nervous laugh. “I—I had vows prepared,” he admitted, glancing down briefly. “But now they all feel too small.”

Viktor arched a brow. “You are never at a loss for words. This is a first.”

Jayce huffed a laugh, then refocused, his expression growing serious. “Viktor, I have spent my whole life chasing the idea that I needed to prove myself. That I had to create something great to be worthy of standing where I am. But the truth is… I never truly understood what it meant to build something lasting until I met you.”

He licked his lips, swallowing past the lump in his throat. “You are the foundation of everything I am. You challenge me, push me, remind me to think before I act—even if I don’t always listen.” Another small chuckle from the guests. Jayce’s voice softened. “But more than anything, you are my home. And no matter what the future holds, I swear to stand by you. To fight for you. To love you—for as long as we have.”

Viktor blinked once, then twice, his fingers tightening around Jayce’s.

The officiant smiled. “Then, with the vows spoken and the commitment sealed, it is my honor to pronounce you—”

Jayce didn’t wait for them to finish. He surged forward, cupping Viktor’s face in his hands as he kissed him, long and deep, laughter bubbling between them as the cheers and applause of their friends filled the air.

Viktor, breathless when they parted, sighed dramatically. “Impatient as always.”

Jayce grinned. “For you? Always.”

And with that, they stepped forward together, hand in hand, into the future they had built—imperfect, uncertain, but undeniably theirs.

Chapter Text

The morning sun filtered through the curtains, casting soft, golden light across the modest living room. The place wasn’t extravagant—just a cozy home nestled away from the bustling city. The faint hum of Piltover’s distant gears and whistles barely reached their doorstep. It was quiet. Peaceful. Almost too peaceful.

Viktor sat at the kitchen table, a mug of tea between his hands. His prosthetic leg stretched out comfortably, no longer plagued by the strain of endless work. Jayce stood by the counter, pretending to be busy with the coffee pot, though his eyes kept drifting to Viktor.

“You’re thinking something,” Viktor said without looking up.

Jayce chuckled softly, caught. “I can’t hide anything from you.” He leaned against the counter, coffee in hand. “It’s just… I was thinking.”

Viktor glanced at him now, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Dangerous.”

“Ha-ha,” Jayce shot back with a grin. “No, really. It’s been nice… this quiet life. You know, after everything we went through. But—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Don’t you think it’s a little too quiet sometimes?”

Viktor set his mug down and leaned back in his chair. “You mean you miss the chaos?”

“Not the chaos, just… something more . I was thinking… maybe we could—” Jayce stopped, nervous now. “I mean, what would you think about… adoption?”

Viktor blinked, and for a moment, Jayce couldn’t read him. His partner’s gaze softened after a beat. “I have thought about it,” Viktor admitted quietly. “More than once.”

“You have?” Jayce’s voice lifted with hope.

“ya,” Viktor said, his smile turning fond. “I suppose I just never knew when to bring it up.”

Jayce chuckled again, relief flooding him. He crossed the room and sat beside Viktor, his hand finding his. “Well… maybe now’s the right time.”

Viktor’s fingers curled around Jayce’s. “Maybe it is.”

For a while, they just sat there, hands entwined, the quiet no longer feeling so empty.

The days that followed were filled with quiet conversations, late-night musings, and hopeful what-ifs. Jayce and Viktor spent evenings curled up on the couch, discussing what kind of child they might welcome into their lives. They wondered if they’d end up with a curious toddler, full of questions and endless energy, or perhaps an older child looking for stability and comfort.

One evening, Jayce sat at the dining table, scribbling notes on a pamphlet they’d gotten from a local adoption agency. Viktor sat across from him, reading through another one.

“There’s a seminar this weekend,” Jayce said, tapping the page. “They walk you through the whole process — everything from paperwork to preparing your home.”

Viktor hummed in thought, glancing at the tools scattered on the nearby counter. His latest project — a mechanical bird he’d been tinkering with — lay half-assembled. “We’ll need to make some changes around here,” he said thoughtfully. “Childproof the workshop. Secure the balcony. Probably get some new furniture.”

Jayce smiled. “We’ve built Hexgates, Viktor. I think we can manage a few safety locks.”

Viktor snorted softly. “Perhaps.” He set his papers aside, eyes softening. “Are you nervous?”

Jayce hesitated, then nodded. “A little. I mean… what if I’m not good at this?”

“You will be,” Viktor said firmly. “You always throw yourself into what you love. You’ll give this child everything.”

“What about you?” Jayce’s gaze met Viktor’s. “You’ve never really talked about it… I mean, how do you feel?”

Viktor’s hand drifted to his cane, fingers idly tracing the worn metal handle. “I worry, I suppose,” he admitted quietly. “What if… what if I can’t keep up?”

Jayce reached across the table, squeezing Viktor’s hand. “Hey… you’re the smartest man I know. You’ve spent years finding solutions to things no one else could fix. You’ll be amazing at this.”

Viktor exhaled softly, a smile curling at his lips. “You always know what to say.”

Jayce grinned. “It’s one of my talents.”

For a moment, everything felt perfect — just the two of them, safe and warm in their little home. But now, there was a flicker of something new — something bright and hopeful — filling the quiet.

“We should go to that seminar,” Viktor said at last.

Jayce’s smile widened. “Yeah,” he agreed. “We should.”

A week later, Jayce and Viktor found themselves in a modest community center, seated among a small group of other couples and individuals attending the adoption seminar. The room smelled faintly of coffee and paper, and a soft murmur of conversation filled the air.

Jayce shifted in his seat, resting one arm casually across the back of Viktor’s chair. Viktor, ever the note-taker, had a small notebook balanced on his knee, pen in hand.

“Welcome, everyone,” the speaker began. She was a warm-looking woman in her forties, her voice steady and encouraging. “We’re so glad you’re here. Choosing to adopt isn’t just about bringing a child into your home — it’s about opening your heart in ways you may not expect.”

Jayce glanced sideways at Viktor, watching his partner’s focused expression. Viktor’s fingers tapped thoughtfully against his cane, a sign Jayce knew meant he was deep in thought.

The presentation covered everything — the application process, home assessments, and the emotional complexities of adoption. There were stories from parents who had adopted — some joyful, some challenging — but all filled with a deep sense of love and commitment.

By the time the seminar ended, Jayce’s mind was buzzing. He and Viktor lingered by the refreshment table, Viktor quietly stirring sugar into his tea.

“What do you think?” Jayce asked carefully.

Viktor took a long sip before answering. “It is… a lot,” he admitted. “But I think we knew that already.”

“Yeah.” Jayce leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. “Some of those stories were… heavy.”

“Ya,” Viktor murmured. “But none of them seemed to regret it.” His eyes flicked up to meet Jayce’s. “I think we can do this.”

Jayce’s chest swelled with warmth. “Yeah?”

Viktor nodded, his fingers curling tighter around his mug. “We’ve always been good at building things together. This will just… take more heart than metal.”

Jayce grinned and bumped Viktor’s shoulder. “I think we’ve got plenty of that.”

The next few weeks were a blur of paperwork, home adjustments, and endless conversations. They rearranged the spare room — turning what had once been Jayce’s cluttered storage space into something softer. Viktor, ever practical, insisted on building a sturdy desk for schoolwork. Jayce found himself debating over paint colors longer than was probably necessary.

One evening, as Viktor was carefully polishing the desk’s edges, Jayce stood in the doorway with a cup of tea.

“You know,” Jayce said, “I’ve been thinking… maybe we should adopt an older kid.”

Viktor looked up from his work, brow raised. “Oh?”

“I mean… they’re the ones who get overlooked the most, right?” Jayce set the mug down on the desk’s corner. “And… I don’t know, I just keep thinking — what if there’s some kid out there who needs a fresh start, you know? Someone who’s been waiting a long time.”

Viktor paused, then nodded thoughtfully. “I like that.”

“You do?”

“Yes,” Viktor said with a small smile. “I think we can be exactly what someone like that needs.”

For a while, they stood together in the half-finished room, imagining the life that might soon fill it — laughter, footsteps running down the hall, quiet moments spent learning and growing. The silence that once felt too heavy now seemed like a space waiting to be filled with something wonderful.

“We’ll be ready,” Viktor said quietly.

“We will,” Jayce agreed.

And for the first time, it felt real — like their home, their quiet life, was about to become something even better.

The day they received the call felt surreal.

Jayce had been elbow-deep in grease, repairing a worn-out stabilizer core in his workshop when his phone rang. He wiped his hands on a rag before answering, barely registering the unfamiliar number on the screen.

“Hello?”

“Hi, is this Jayce Talis?” The voice was warm and professional.

“Yeah, this is him.”

“This is Mara from the adoption agency. I’m calling because there’s… someone I think you and Viktor might want to meet.”

Jayce froze. He set the rag down slowly, his heart thudding in his chest. “Yeah… yeah, of course.”

“His name’s Emil,” Mara continued. “He’s twelve. Quiet kid, keeps to himself, but sharp as a tack. Loves puzzles, building things… honestly, when I read your file, I thought of you two right away.”

Jayce swallowed hard, feeling the warmth rise in his chest. “That sounds… that sounds amazing.”

“I’d love to schedule a meeting if you’re interested,” Mara added. “No pressure — just a chance to see if it’s a good fit.”

“Absolutely,” Jayce said quickly. “We’d love that.”

Later that evening, Jayce paced the living room, glancing at the clock every few minutes. Viktor sat calmly on the couch, his cane resting across his lap.

“You’re going to wear a groove in the floor,” Viktor murmured without looking up.

Jayce stopped pacing with a sigh. “I just… I don’t want to mess this up.”

“You won’t,” Viktor said firmly. He paused, his gaze softening. “We’re just meeting him — nothing more, nothing less. He’s probably more nervous than you are.”

That thought sobered Jayce a little. “Yeah… you’re right.” He sat down beside Viktor, exhaling. “I just really want this to go well.”

Viktor reached over and gave Jayce’s hand a squeeze. “It will.”

They met Emil a few days later at the agency’s quiet meeting room. He was smaller than Jayce expected — thin, wiry, with dark hair that fell in loose waves around his face. His eyes flicked up to meet theirs when they walked in, sharp and guarded.

“Emil,” Mara said gently, “this is Jayce and Viktor.”

“Hey,” Jayce greeted with a warm smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Emil just gave a small nod. He shifted in his chair, fingers fiddling with a worn metal puzzle cube in his lap. Jayce recognized the design — a tricky little device that relied on careful pressure points to unlock.

“You’re pretty good with those,” Jayce said, motioning to the cube.

Emil shrugged. “It’s not hard.”

“I tried one of those once,” Jayce said, grinning. “Took me an hour to figure it out.”

Emil’s lips twitched — not quite a smile, but something close. “Took me ten minutes.”

“Wow,” Jayce laughed. “I guess I know who to ask next time I get stuck on a project.”

For the first time, Emil’s gaze lingered a little longer. “You build stuff?”

“Oh yeah,” Jayce said, leaning forward. “All kinds of things. Machines, engines… even a hoverboard once, but Viktor banned me from testing it indoors.”

Viktor gave an exaggerated sigh. “I have asked you once not to shatter our dining table, and now I am ‘the bad guy.’”

That time, Emil did smile — just a small, fleeting thing, but enough to make Jayce’s heart lift.

By the end of the visit, Emil was still quiet, still guarded… but he didn’t seem afraid. As they left, Jayce caught Viktor’s hand and squeezed it.

“I think that went okay,” Jayce whispered.

Viktor gave a small smile. “I think so too.”

Over the next few weeks, they spent more time with Emil — short visits at first, then longer ones. Each time, Emil seemed to grow a little more comfortable, though his walls stayed firmly in place. He didn’t talk much about his past, and Jayce and Viktor never pushed.

Instead, they built moments of trust — afternoons spent playing chess with Viktor, quiet mornings in Jayce’s workshop where Emil would hover nearby, watching intently until Jayce handed him a wrench. Little by little, Emil stopped looking like he was waiting to be sent away.

One evening, after Viktor had gone to bed, Jayce found Emil in the workshop, tinkering with an old gear assembly.

“You’re pretty good at that,” Jayce said softly.

Emil shrugged. “It’s just parts. You figure out where they go.”

Jayce sat down beside him. “You know… figuring things out is important. It’s what makes people like us good at fixing things.”

Emil glanced up. “Like… machines?”

“Yeah,” Jayce said, smiling gently. “And people, too. Even when things seem broken… they’re not always beyond repair.”

For a moment, Emil didn’t say anything. But then, softly — barely above a whisper — he asked, “Am I?”

Jayce’s breath caught. He set his hand carefully on Emil’s shoulder, grounding both of them in the quiet.

“No,” Jayce said firmly. “Not even close.”

Emil’s fingers clenched the wrench tightly — and for the first time, Jayce saw something other than guarded caution in his eyes. Something like hope.

The day Emil moved in was quiet — almost too quiet.

Jayce had expected some sort of grand moment, like one of those stories where everything clicks perfectly into place. But instead, Emil stood in the doorway of his new room, his duffle bag slung over one shoulder, silently surveying the space.

“We, uh… we weren’t sure what you’d like,” Jayce said, breaking the silence. “So we kept it simple for now.”

The room was modest — a sturdy desk that Viktor had built, a freshly made bed, shelves lined with a few books and puzzles they’d picked out, and a small model airship that Jayce had found in a shop window and couldn’t resist.

“If you want to change anything,” Viktor added gently from the hallway, “it’s yours to make your own.”

Emil just nodded and stepped inside. He set his bag down by the bed, then ran his fingers along the desk’s edge — inspecting it like he was evaluating the craftsmanship. He lingered by the model airship, giving the sails a quiet spin before turning back to them.

“It’s… good,” Emil said softly.

Relief flooded Jayce’s chest. “Glad you think so.”

“Dinner’s in a bit,” Viktor added. “I hope you like stew.”

Emil gave another small nod, still clutching the strap of his bag. “Yeah… okay.”

The first week was full of quiet adjustments. Emil kept mostly to himself — lingering in his room or sitting quietly in the living room with a book or one of his puzzles. He was polite but distant, like he wasn’t sure how much space he was allowed to take up.

One evening, Jayce found Emil in the workshop, crouched beside a half-finished project of Viktor’s.

“Careful with that,” Jayce warned gently. “Viktor’s building a stabilizer core for some equipment. Don’t want you getting zapped.”

“I know what I’m doing,” Emil muttered without looking up.

Jayce blinked, surprised — not just at the comment, but at how deftly Emil’s fingers were twisting wires and aligning gears.

“You’ve got a knack for this,” Jayce said, kneeling beside him.

“My foster dad before this… he fixed stuff,” Emil mumbled. “Didn’t let me help much, but I watched.”

Jayce grabbed a screwdriver from the nearby bench. “Well… I don’t mind letting you get your hands dirty.”

For the first time since moving in, Emil’s eyes lit up with something like excitement. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jayce grinned. “If you’re up for it.”

By the second week, Emil had started following Viktor around the house. He never said much, but he’d hover quietly in doorways, watching Viktor cook or sketch blueprints. Viktor never pushed him away — instead, he started offering quiet explanations as he worked.

“This seasoning cuts the bitterness,” Viktor murmured one evening as he stirred a pot of stew. “Would you like to try?”

Emil hesitated, then stepped forward to take the spoon Viktor held out. His brow furrowed in concentration as he tasted it.

“Needs more salt,” Emil muttered.

Viktor chuckled and handed him the shaker. “I think you might be right.”

But not every moment was easy.

One night, Jayce woke to the sound of muffled noises down the hall. He found Emil sitting on the floor of his room, his back pressed to the wall, clutching the worn puzzle cube in both hands. His breathing was shaky, and his eyes were red-rimmed.

“Hey,” Jayce said softly, kneeling beside him. “Bad dream?”

Emil didn’t answer right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. “Sometimes I just… wake up. Feels like… like I’m not supposed to be here.”

Jayce’s chest tightened. “You are supposed to be here,” he said firmly. “I promise.”

Emil swallowed hard, gaze locked on his puzzle cube. “People… they always say that. But then they change their mind.”

Jayce shifted closer, resting his hand on Emil’s shoulder. “We’re not going anywhere,” he said gently. “Me and Viktor… we’re here. For you.”

Emil’s fingers clenched the cube tighter. “Okay,” he whispered — but it wasn’t the voice of someone who believed it yet.

Jayce didn’t push him to say more. Instead, he just sat there with Emil until his breathing slowed and his grip on the puzzle cube finally loosened.

Over time, things got easier — slowly, steadily. Emil started setting the table without being asked, joining Jayce and Viktor on the couch after dinner, and tinkering more in the workshop. The laughter came in small bursts — rare at first, but growing more frequent.

One afternoon, Jayce walked into the workshop to find Emil and Viktor shoulder-to-shoulder at the workbench, assembling a small mechanical bird from leftover parts.

“Careful,” Viktor was saying. “If you tighten the wing joint too much, it won’t move properly.”

“I know,” Emil muttered, carefully adjusting the screw.

Jayce lingered in the doorway, unnoticed, his chest warm with quiet pride.

For the first time in a long time, their house didn’t feel too quiet anymore. It felt full — not just with sound, but with something better.

With family.

Chapter Text

Jayce woke up to the sound of rain pattering against the windows. His head throbbed, his limbs felt heavy, and the air around him smelled different —less of metal and smog, more of damp stone and fresh parchment.

Something was wrong .

He pushed himself up, blinking against the dim light filtering through the room. His workshop—no, his old workshop—came into focus. The same cluttered desk, the same unfinished blueprints, the same Hextech core humming faintly in the corner.

Jayce’s breath caught.

This wasn’t his time.

He scrambled to his feet, hands shaking as he scanned the room. His heart pounded as his mind worked through the impossible realization. The last thing he remembered was standing in the Council chamber, burdened by the weight of Piltover’s future, haunted by the choices that had led him there. And now—now he was back in his old life, before the war, before the destruction, before he had blood on his hands.

His gaze landed on a calendar tacked to the wall.

Year 996 .

A full year before everything fell apart. Before Silco. Before Jinx’s attack. Before he became the man he hated looking at in the mirror.

Jayce sucked in a sharp breath.

This was his second chance.

It didn’t take long to confirm it. The city was as he remembered—bright, bustling, untainted . The Council still stood strong. The fractures between Zaun and Piltover hadn’t yet widened into an irreparable chasm. And Viktor—

Jayce found him exactly where he expected, hunched over a worktable at the Academy, scribbling notes furiously into his journal.

He looked younger . Not in a drastic way, but enough that it hurt. His posture wasn’t quite as rigid, his skin not yet pale with exhaustion, his cough less frequent. He still had time.

Jayce’s throat tightened.

“Hey,” he forced out, stepping into the room.

Viktor glanced up, brow furrowing. “Jayce? You look…” He trailed off, studying him. “Unwell.”

That was one way to put it.

Jayce managed a weak chuckle. “Just… been thinking a lot.”

Viktor hummed, unconvinced, but didn’t press. “Well, if you are here to distract me, at least make yourself useful,” he said, nodding toward a set of blueprints. “I have ideas to discuss.”

Jayce hesitated.

He knew what those blueprints were. The early drafts of the Hexcore—the very thing that would push Viktor down the path of desperation, of self-destruction. The very thing Jayce had failed to stop before.

His stomach churned.

This was it. His chance to change things. To do it right.

But how much could he change before history fought back?

Jayce clenched his fists.

He was about to find out.

He sat across from Viktor, staring at the blueprints laid out before him. The early schematics for the Hexcore—still in their infancy—spread across the worktable, filled with intricate calculations and theoretical applications. Jayce could practically see the path unfolding before him.

If they continued down this road, it would lead to desperation. To Viktor pushing his body past its limits. To choices that could never be undone.

Jayce’s grip on the table tightened.

“You’re quiet,” Viktor noted without looking up. He was still scribbling, pencil tapping idly against the page in between notes. “That is not like you.”

Jayce forced a chuckle. “Just… thinking.”

Viktor’s sharp gaze flicked up, studying him. “About what?”

How could Jayce explain? How could he possibly tell Viktor that he had already seen where this led—that if they followed this plan, if they pushed Hextech beyond its limits, it would break everything ? That one year from now, Viktor would stand at the precipice of something monstrous, desperate to live , while Jayce—Jayce would have lost the ability to stop him?

He took a breath. “What if we… took a different approach?”

Viktor frowned. “A different approach?”

“Yeah,” Jayce said, trying to keep his voice steady. “What if we focused on stabilization first? On safety?”

Viktor’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Safety has always been part of the design. But we must push forward, Jayce, or else progress—”

“Progress can’t come at any cost,” Jayce interrupted, firmer than he meant to be. “What’s the point if it hurts the people who use it?”

Viktor blinked, taken aback.

Jayce swallowed hard, pushing forward. “I mean… we don’t even know what this thing could do to a person long-term. Maybe we should slow down. Refine it.”

Viktor tapped his fingers against the desk, considering. “You sound hesitant.”

Jayce exhaled. “I just… don’t want us to rush into something we can’t undo.”

For a long moment, Viktor said nothing. He studied Jayce with that sharp, unreadable gaze—the one that always saw too much .

“You are acting strange,” Viktor finally said, tilting his head. “I have known you long enough to tell when something is bothering you.”

Jayce forced a smile. “I just want to do this right, Vik. That’s all.”

Another pause. Then—finally—Viktor nodded. “Alright.”

Jayce nearly sagged in relief.

“We refine it first,” Viktor continued. “We stabilize. If that is what you think is best, then I trust you.”

Jayce’s heart clenched. He didn’t deserve that trust—not after failing Viktor the first time. But this time —

This time, he would earn it.

This time, he wouldn’t let history repeat itself.

The next few weeks were tense. Jayce had to tread carefully—not just with the Hexcore, but with everything. The more he altered, the greater the risk of unintended consequences.

And yet, some things were impossible to avoid.

One evening, Viktor’s cough worsened.

Jayce had been walking past the lab when he heard it—deep, rattling, wrong . He burst into the room without thinking.

Viktor was doubled over, gripping the edge of the table with white-knuckled fingers. Blood stained his sleeve where he had wiped his mouth.

Jayce’s stomach lurched.

This was too soon . In the original timeline, it had taken longer for Viktor’s condition to deteriorate. Was this the timeline adjusting? Or had his interference made things worse?

Viktor straightened with visible effort. “It is nothing,” he muttered.

“It’s not nothing ,” Jayce snapped before he could stop himself.

Viktor blinked, surprised at the sharpness in his voice.

Jayce ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. “We need to get you help. Better treatment. I don’t care what it costs, I’ll—”

“Jayce.”

The quiet firmness in Viktor’s voice made him stop.

“I know my body,” Viktor said. “I have lived with this all my life. You cannot fix it with money or worry.”

Jayce’s chest ached. But I should have tried harder before.

“I just… I don’t want to lose you,” Jayce admitted, voice tight.

Viktor exhaled softly. “Then we move forward. Together.”

Jayce met his gaze—and for the first time, he saw a future that didn’t end in regret.

He nodded. “Together.”

But deep down, he knew—history wouldn’t let him change things so easily.

And the longer he stayed in the past, the more he risked the timeline fighting back.

Jayce was playing a dangerous game with time.

For weeks, he had been walking the tightrope between preventing disaster and keeping Viktor from suspecting just how much Jayce knew about the future. It was exhausting—second-guessing every conversation, every decision, every moment that felt too familiar.

But the worst part?

He wasn’t sure if he was actually fixing anything.

The Hexcore was progressing at a slower, safer pace, but Viktor’s health was still declining. Jayce had thrown every bit of influence, wealth, and scientific ingenuity at finding better treatment, yet nothing stuck . And every time Viktor brushed off Jayce’s concern with that same tired reassurance— “I have lived with this all my life” —Jayce wanted to scream.

He had already watched Viktor’s body fail him once.

He refused to do it again.

The next major divergence came when Viktor first discovered Shimmer .

Jayce had been shadowing him more closely than usual, keeping an eye on his research, making sure he wasn’t pushing too hard. But when he walked into their shared workshop one evening and found Viktor hunched over a vial of glowing violet liquid—Jayce’s blood turned to ice.

“No. Not this. Not again.”

He barely registered himself crossing the room, barely thought before slamming his hand down over Viktor’s notes. “Where did you get that?”

Viktor looked up, clearly startled. “I—”

“ Where, Viktor? ”

Viktor frowned, straightening. “I spoke with Singed.”

Jayce’s jaw clenched.

Singed. Of course .

The man who had no regard for ethics, only results. The man who, in another timeline, had led Viktor down a path of no return.

Jayce forced himself to breathe. “You can’t trust him.”

“I trust the science,” Viktor corrected, voice even. “I trust the results.”

“Shimmer is dangerous .”

“I am running out of options, Jayce.” Viktor’s voice was quiet but firm. “You want me to be careful? To take the safer path? Then tell me— what other path is there? ”

Jayce hesitated.

Because he knew . He knew that every treatment had failed. That no amount of medicine, no matter how expensive or advanced, had cured Viktor before. That this was the moment—the crossroads where, in the original timeline, Viktor had turned to something unnatural to survive .

But Jayce also knew what happened after . The pain, the desperation. The scars that never faded.

Viktor took Jayce’s silence as an answer. He exhaled, shaking his head. “I have to try.”

“No, you don’t,” Jayce said, stepping closer, his voice raw. “I will not let this stuff kill you, Viktor. I swear to god, I—”

“You do not understand,” Viktor cut in, something frustrated beneath his tone. “You are so focused on what you think will go wrong that you refuse to see what could go right .”

Jayce’s breath caught.

Because— god —wasn’t that the exact opposite of how he had been before? Hadn’t his downfall always been his blind optimism? His belief that Hextech could only be a force for good?

But this time, he knew better.

This time, he had seen what happened when progress came at any cost

And he would not lose Viktor to it.

Jayce exhaled shakily. “Just… give me time .”

Viktor frowned.

“I will find another way,” Jayce promised, stepping closer. “Just… trust me .”

Viktor searched his face, his expression unreadable.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the soft hum of Hextech energy in the background.

Finally—finally—Viktor exhaled and set the vial down.

“…Alright,” he murmured. “But not forever.”

Jayce swallowed hard. “That’s all I ask.”

But as he stared at the shimmering violet liquid, Jayce knew this wasn’t over.

Time was still unraveling.

And no matter how much he tried to change it—something would come crashing down.

Jayce knew he was only delaying the inevitable.

Viktor had agreed to wait , but not forever. Every day, Jayce felt the weight of that unspoken deadline pressing down on him, and he was running out of ways to stall.

He threw himself into research, hunting for any alternative to the Shimmer augmentation. He scoured the Academy’s medical archives, reached out to the best healers in Piltover, even considered reaching beyond the city’s borders. But no matter how many solutions he chased, he kept running into the same wall.

Viktor’s body was failing him. And time was running out.

The breaking point came one night in the lab.

Jayce had barely slept in days, buried in notes, calculations, and medical theories that all led to dead ends. He was running on fumes, his mind a haze of frustration and dread, when Viktor walked in.

Jayce looked up, expecting another late-night work session. But something about Viktor’s posture— too tense, too rigid —sent alarm bells ringing in his head.

And then he saw it.

A fresh stain of violet on Viktor’s sleeve.

Jayce’s blood ran cold.

“You lied to me .” His voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.

Viktor exhaled. “I did not lie.”

Jayce stood so fast his chair scraped against the floor. “You said you’d wait!”

“I did ,” Viktor said evenly. “And the wait has ended.”

Jayce’s hands clenched into fists. “You don’t know what this stuff will do to you!”

“I know exactly what will happen if I do nothing ,” Viktor shot back.

Jayce felt something in his chest crack .

“You promised ,” Jayce whispered, his voice breaking.

Something flickered across Viktor’s face— regret, guilt —but it was gone in an instant, replaced by cold resolve.

“I promised to give you time,” Viktor said. “I never promised to waste mine.”

Jayce felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him.

He had tried . He had fought to change things, to make this timeline better, to save Viktor from this path.

And it still wasn’t enough.

“You don’t understand,” Jayce said, his breath shaky. “I know what happens next. I know where this leads.”

Viktor frowned. “…What are you talking about?”

Jayce squeezed his eyes shut. He hadn’t meant to say that.

But maybe… maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

Maybe it was time to tell Viktor the truth.

Jayce had imagined this moment a thousand times.

If he told Viktor the truth, would he believe him? Would he think Jayce had lost his mind? Would he demand proof that Jayce couldn’t give?

Or—worst of all—would he listen … but still make the same choice?

Jayce took a breath. His pulse was hammering in his ears.

“I need you to trust me,” he said, voice rough.

Viktor studied him for a long moment. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You know, you have been acting strangely for quite some time now.”

Jayce swallowed hard. “Because I know what happens next .”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “What exactly do you think will happen?”

Jayce’s throat was dry.

“You push too far,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “You keep experimenting. Keep changing . And it works, at first. But then it starts taking more from you than it gives.”

Viktor’s expression didn’t change, but Jayce could see the shift in his eyes—the gears turning, the calculations running.

“You are speaking as if you have already seen it,” Viktor murmured.

Jayce exhaled sharply. “Because I have .”

Viktor didn’t laugh. He didn’t scoff or wave it away. Instead, he just… watched.

Jayce’s chest was tight.

“I don’t know how I got here,” he admitted. “One moment I was standing in the future— our future—and the next, I woke up here. A whole year before everything falls apart.”

Viktor was silent for a long time. Then, finally: “What happens?”

Jayce swallowed. “We… we lose everything.”

A flicker of something unreadable crossed Viktor’s face.

Jayce forced himself to keep going. “We fight. The Council turns against us. Zaun rises up. Piltover retaliates. Jinx—” He hesitated, voice thick. “She destroys the Council Chamber. We don’t even know how many died. And you—”

His breath caught.

Viktor’s gaze sharpened. “What about me?”

Jayce hesitated.

How could he tell Viktor that his future self had been dying in front of him, body ravaged by his own desperation? That Jayce had barely been able to look at him without feeling sick with guilt?

How could he tell Viktor that, in the original timeline, Jayce had already failed to save him?

“…You changed,” Jayce said instead. “Not just your body. You became something else. And I lost you.”

Viktor’s expression was unreadable. He looked away, staring down at the faint violet stain on his sleeve.

For a long, terrible moment, Jayce thought he had lost him again—that Viktor would dismiss it, or worse, double down on his choice.

But then Viktor spoke, quiet and thoughtful:

“If that is true… if you truly are from the future…” He glanced up. “Then why did you not tell me sooner?”

Jayce exhaled shakily. “Because I was scared.”

Viktor hummed, tilting his head. “And now?”

Jayce forced a bitter smile. “Still scared.”

Viktor sighed, rubbing his temple. “Well, Jayce. That makes two of us.”

A lump formed in Jayce’s throat.

Viktor studied his sleeve again. The vial was still in his hand— a single choice, still waiting to be made.

“…I will think on it,” Viktor finally said. “But I make no promises.”

Jayce let out a slow breath.

It wasn’t a victory. Not yet.

But for the first time since he had woken up in this timeline… he still had a chance.

And he would not waste it.

Chapter Text

The house had always been full of invention.

Not just in the literal sense—the old blueprints stacked in the study, the half-finished projects tucked away in corners—but in the way life had grown here. It had been years since Jayce and Viktor had left the politics of Piltover behind, trading council chambers and laboratories for a quieter existence, one built with care.

And now, that home had a life of its own.

Jayce leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching as Emil packed a bag near the front entrance.

Their son had grown into a man neither of them could have fully predicted—sharp-minded, quick-witted, and ambitious in a way that was both entirely his own and undeniably inherited. He had Viktor’s quiet focus, Jayce’s restless determination, and something neither of them could claim—a vision for a future that neither Piltover nor Zaun had dared to imagine yet.

Emil caught Jayce watching and smirked. “If you’re trying to burn a hole in my back, you’re gonna have to stare harder.”

Jayce huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Just making sure you’re actually packed this time. Last thing you need is getting halfway to Piltover before realizing you forgot your notes.”

Emil rolled his eyes. “That happened once .”

Jayce raised a brow.

“…Okay, maybe twice .”

A soft chuckle sounded from behind them. Viktor wheeled into the room, hands resting on the arms of his chair. Age had touched them both, but Viktor still carried himself with the same sharpness as always—perhaps a little slower, a little more weathered, but no less himself.

“Are you sure you are ready for this?” Viktor asked, studying Emil the same way he always did when deep in thought.

Emil hesitated. It was brief, barely a flicker, but Jayce saw it.

“I am,” Emil said, adjusting the strap on his bag. “It’s time.”

Jayce exchanged a glance with Viktor. They had always known this moment would come.

They had raised Emil to chase his own future. To carve his own space in the world. And now, that future was calling him back to Piltover—to the city where Jayce and Viktor had once built their legacies.

But Emil didn’t want to inherit their legacies.

He wanted to build his own.

Jayce sighed, stepping forward to clap a hand on Emil’s shoulder. “Just… don’t forget to write, alright?”

Emil grinned. “Only if you promise not to send me twenty letters a week about how to properly calibrate a Hextech core.”

Jayce gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me, I would never —”

Viktor cleared his throat. “Jayce.”

“…Alright, maybe I would.”

Emil laughed, then turned to Viktor.

Viktor studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Go. Do what you must. And if they do not listen to you…” He smirked slightly. “Make them.”

Emil nodded, his expression softening. “I will.”

There was nothing else to say.

The door opened, and their son stepped into the world.

And as Jayce and Viktor stood together in the quiet that followed, they knew—

The house had never truly been silent .

It had always been full of invention. And now, their greatest one yet was out there, setting the future in motion.

The house felt different without Emil in it.

It wasn’t empty—no, Jayce and Viktor had built too much into this place for it to ever feel * empty* —but there was a shift in the air. A quiet sort of absence, like a machine that had once hummed with familiar rhythm, now waiting for a missing piece.

Jayce sighed as he sat down at the kitchen table, running a hand through his graying hair. “I didn’t think it’d hit me this hard ,” he admitted.

Viktor, across from him, gave a small, knowing smile. “You have been preparing for this day since the moment we adopted him. And yet, you still act surprised.”

Jayce huffed. “I just… I got used to him being around, you know?” He glanced toward the doorway, half-expecting Emil to come bounding in, rattling off some new idea, asking for their input, filling the space with that relentless energy of his. “Now it’s just us again.”

Viktor hummed. “Yes. Just us. Like it was in the beginning.”

Jayce looked at him. There was something in Viktor’s expression—not quite wistful, not quite sad. Just thoughtful .

Jayce reached across the table, covering Viktor’s hand with his own. “You miss him too.”

Viktor didn’t deny it. Instead, he turned his hand to lace their fingers together, his grip warm despite the slight tremor that age had given him.

“He will be fine,” Viktor said after a moment. “We raised him well.”

Jayce smiled, squeezing his hand. “Yeah. We did.”

Weeks Later

Jayce had expected Emil to be too busy  to write. He was young, ambitious, determined to make a name for himself—surely he’d be caught up in his work, swept away in the same way Jayce and Viktor had been at his age.

But the letters came.

Not every day, not even every week, but enough . Updates on his work. Complaints about Piltover’s council being as slow as ever . Small moments where he’d talk about something mundane, just to let them know he was still thinking about home.

Jayce read every letter at the kitchen table, always aloud so Viktor could hear.

One evening, after finishing Emil’s latest letter—something about how someone on the Council had finally stopped dismissing his ideas—Jayce chuckled, shaking his head.

“He’s stubborn,” he said.

Viktor smirked. “I wonder where he got that from.”

Jayce shot him a look. “ You .”

Viktor raised a brow. “I was referring to you .”

They held each other’s gaze for a moment before Jayce laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, fine. Maybe both of us.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, eyes distant. “He is already making a difference.”

Jayce nodded, a quiet sort of pride swelling in his chest. “Yeah. He is.”

For so long, their work had been their legacy. The inventions, the breakthroughs, the mistakes, the triumphs.

But now, Emil was his own legacy. Not just theirs—his own.

Jayce glanced at Viktor, who had closed his eyes, a small, contented smile on his face.

And for the first time in a long while, Jayce felt no regret about the past.

Just peace.

Chapter Text

Jayce tightened the straps on Emil’s little travel bag, double-checked the lunchbox, then glanced at Viktor—who looked suspiciously calm for a man about to leave their child in the care of Vi .

“You sure this is a good idea?” Jayce whispered.

Viktor didn’t even blink. “No.”

“…Great. That’s comforting.”

They stood outside Caitlyn and Vi’s townhouse in Piltover’s residential quarter, a modest but well-secured place that had become something of a crash pad for off-duty enforcers, stray criminals on parole, and—now—one very energetic six-year-old.

Emil clutched his plush Hexbug in one hand, blinking up at the door like he was preparing to march into battle.

“Now remember,” Jayce knelt beside him, “listen to Caitlyn. And Vi. Especially Caitlyn. No sneaking into locked rooms, no using your drone indoors, and no trying to upgrade anything unless someone says it’s okay.”

“But I made the drone quiet this time!” Emil beamed. “Mostly.”

Viktor patted Emil’s head, then leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Emil’s eyes lit up, and he giggled. Jayce narrowed his eyes.

“What did you just say to him?”

Viktor smiled serenely. “Only that Vi enjoys chaos and is unlikely to say no to mischief.”

“…You’re lucky I still love you.”

The door swung open.

“Heyyy,” Vi grinned, already wearing fingerless gloves and an expression that spelled trouble . “Where’s the little monster?”

“Here!” Emil shouted, launching forward and throwing his arms around her waist. Vi laughed and scooped him up with one arm like a sack of potatoes.

“Glad you could make it, champ. I’ve got a rooftop obstacle course with your name on it.”

Jayce’s face went pale. “Wait, what—?”

“Relax,” Caitlyn appeared behind Vi, looking perfectly put together and already holding a clipboard. “The course is inside the living room. Mostly cushions. Probably no broken bones.”

“ Probably? ” Viktor asked dryly.

“You two have a good time at your conference,” Caitlyn said, smiling with only mild concern. “We’ll survive. Maybe.”

Vi winked. “We’ve got this covered.”

Jayce and Viktor looked at each other, shared a long-suffering sigh, and then, reluctantly, left.

Four Hours Later

When they returned, the front door was slightly ajar .

Jayce’s stomach dropped. Viktor looked oddly impressed.

Inside was a war zone .

Cushions everywhere. Pots and pans scattered on the floor. A strange purple goo dripping down from the ceiling fan. And in the center of it all, Caitlyn stood—hair singed at the ends, arms crossed, and face twitching slightly.

“I left the room for five minutes to take a call,” she said slowly. “Five. Minutes.”

Vi was chasing Emil in circles with a laundry basket, both of them laughing wildly.

“EMIL!” Jayce barked.

The child skidded to a stop like a cartoon character. “Hi, Dad!”

Vi paused mid-sprint. “We were doing aerodynamic testing ! And… indoor parkour.”

Jayce pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course you were.”

Viktor surveyed the damage thoughtfully. “I see the toaster has become self-aware.”

Caitlyn twitched harder. “It bit me. ”

Emil stood sheepishly between the chaos, holding a suspiciously smoking device. “…I made it talk?”

Jayce crouched, picked Emil up, and sighed. “We’re getting ice cream and never speaking of this again.”

Viktor nodded. “Agreed.”

As they turned to go, Vi called out, “Next time, we’re building battle bots ! Right, Emil?”

“YES!”

Jayce didn’t look back. “ There’s not gonna be a next time! ”

Caitlyn, from the rubble of her living room: “That’s what you think.”

They never did get the goo out of the ceiling fan.