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The sound of rain echoed through Piltover, droplets tapping on windows and forming rivulets that raced down the glass. The lamplights flickered dimly against the downpour, casting a golden haze over the cobblestone streets. Viktor trudged through the slick alleyways, his heavy coat clinging to him like a second skin, drenched and cold from the relentless rain. The journey from the Undercity to the upper sectors had been longer than usual tonight, the weather slowing his mechanical leg as it struggled to find grip on the slippery ground.
By the time he reached the familiar workshop, his exhaustion was palpable. Water dripped from his metal cane, pooling beneath him as he hesitated outside the door. His hand hovered over the handle for a moment before he pushed it open.
Inside, warmth greeted him instantly, along with the soft hum of machinery and the faint scent of soldering metal. Jayce was hunched over a workbench, his back to the door, absorbed in one of his latest experiments. The glow of the Hexcore illuminated his features, highlighting the furrow of concentration in his brow.
Viktor cleared his throat, the sound barely audible over the rain and the quiet buzz of tools.
Jayce turned, startled at first, but his expression softened as he saw Viktor standing there, soaked to the bone.
“Vik,” Jayce said, standing quickly and crossing the room. “You’re drenched. What were you thinking, coming back in this weather?”
“I had… work to finish,” Viktor replied, his voice weary but steady. “It could not wait.”
Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “Work can wait. You can’t. Come on, you’re going to catch a cold.” He placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, gently guiding him toward a chair by the heater.
Reluctantly, Viktor allowed himself to be fussed over. Jayce disappeared for a moment and returned with a thick towel, which he draped over Viktor’s shoulders before crouching down to untie his boots. Viktor protested weakly, but Jayce waved him off.
“Let me,” Jayce said firmly, his hands deft but careful as he removed the waterlogged boots. “You’ll short-circuit something if you keep sitting in this mess.”
Viktor let out a small, tired chuckle. “I appreciate your concern, Jayce, but I am not so fragile.”
“You’re not invincible either,” Jayce countered, his tone lighter but still carrying a note of worry. “And I’m not letting you ruin my floor.”
As Jayce stood, Viktor caught his wrist. “Thank you,” he said softly, his golden eyes meeting Jayce’s. “It is good to be home.”
Jayce smiled, his hand lingering on Viktor’s for a moment before he pulled away to grab a blanket from the nearby couch. “Yeah,” he said, draping it over Viktor’s lap. “Welcome home.”
The two fell into an easy silence, broken only by the sound of rain against the windows and the rhythmic hum of the heater. Viktor leaned back in the chair, his body finally beginning to thaw, and watched as Jayce returned to his workbench.
The world outside was cold and stormy, but here, in the glow of the workshop, with Jayce nearby, Viktor felt a warmth that no machine could replicate.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
The next morning, Jayce awoke to the sound of muffled coughing and a metallic clatter. He shot upright, his heart pounding, and quickly crossed the workshop to Viktor’s corner.
Viktor was slumped over his workbench, his face pale and glistening with sweat. The cup of tea Jayce had left for him the night before sat untouched beside an array of scattered blueprints.
“Viktor,” Jayce said, alarm rising in his voice. He placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, only to pull it back immediately. “You’re burning up!”
“I am fine,” Viktor rasped, though his voice wavered and his eyes barely opened. “There is much to do—”
“No,” Jayce interrupted, firmly but not unkindly. “You’re not fine. And ‘much to do’ can wait. Let’s get you to bed.”
“I do not need—” Viktor began, but a wave of dizziness cut him off. His mechanical arm twitched involuntarily, knocking a small wrench off the table. He flinched at the sound, his normally sharp focus clouded by the fever.
Jayce didn’t wait for further argument. Gently but insistently, he hooked an arm under Viktor’s and helped him stand. Viktor leaned heavily on him, his usually meticulous composure crumbling under the weight of exhaustion.
As they made their way to the small cot tucked in the corner of the workshop, Jayce could feel the heat radiating off Viktor’s body. By the time he got him lying down, Viktor was shivering despite the flush in his cheeks.
“I’ll be right back,” Jayce said, covering him with a blanket and rushing off.
He returned moments later with a damp cloth and a steaming cup of tea. Sitting on the edge of the cot, he pressed the cloth gently against Viktor’s forehead. Viktor winced but didn’t protest.
“Drink this,” Jayce urged, holding the cup to Viktor’s lips.
Viktor took a reluctant sip, his golden eyes narrowing in suspicion as he tasted the faint bitterness beneath the honey. “What… is in this?” he asked, his voice hoarse.
Jayce hesitated but then sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just a little something to help you sleep,” he admitted. “You haven’t rested properly in weeks, and your body’s paying the price.”
Viktor’s gaze was sharp despite his fever. “Jayce—”
“Don’t start,” Jayce interrupted. “You’re sick, and you’re stubborn, so I didn’t really have a choice. You’ll thank me later.”
Viktor sighed, too weak to argue. He took another sip, his eyelids already growing heavier. “You are… impossible,” he murmured, though there was no malice in his tone.
“And you’re infuriating,” Jayce countered, brushing a strand of damp hair from Viktor’s forehead. “But I’m not letting you work yourself into the grave.”
Viktor didn’t respond. His breathing had slowed, his fevered body finally giving in to the pull of sleep. Jayce stayed by his side, watching the rise and fall of his chest with a protective intensity.
For hours, he alternated between cooling Viktor’s fever and fussing with the unfinished projects strewn around the workshop. Every so often, he’d glance over, his heart tightening at how fragile Viktor looked in this moment, stripped of his usual strength and resolve.
When Viktor finally stirred hours later, his fever had broken, and his eyes fluttered open to find Jayce asleep in a chair beside him, his head resting on crossed arms.
“You are impossible,” Viktor murmured again, this time with a small, tired smile.
The storm outside had lessened to a soft drizzle by the time Viktor stirred again, his body still heavy with fatigue. He shifted slightly in the cot, trying to find a more comfortable position, but the dull throb in his leg quickly pulled his attention.
His mechanical limb had always been a source of pride and frustration. While it allowed him the mobility his body had long denied him, it was far from perfect. The cold rain from the night before had seeped into its joints, and now, coupled with his fever, the ache radiated from the connection point up into his hip.
Viktor grimaced, his fingers twitching toward his thigh where the mechanical and organic met. He hesitated, unwilling to wake Jayce, who was still slumped in the chair beside him, snoring softly.
But when Viktor tried to sit up to inspect the limb, the movement disturbed the blanket draped over him. The shift was slight, but it was enough. Jayce stirred, blinking blearily before his gaze snapped to Viktor.
“Hey,” Jayce said, his voice still thick with sleep but instantly laced with concern. “What are you doing? You’re supposed to be resting.”
Viktor sighed, lying back against the pillow. “I am resting,” he replied, though his wince betrayed him.
Jayce frowned, leaning closer. “You’re in pain.” It wasn’t a question.
“It is nothing,” Viktor muttered. “The leg… it aches when the weather is cold. It will pass.”
Jayce didn’t look convinced. “Does this happen often?”
“Occasionally,” Viktor admitted, his voice low. “It is a minor inconvenience.”
“It doesn’t look minor,” Jayce said, already moving to grab his toolkit from the workbench. He returned and knelt beside the cot, his expression a mix of determination and worry. “Let me take a look.”
“There is no need—”
“Viktor,” Jayce interrupted, his tone firm but gentle. “You’re sick, and your body’s already fighting enough. Let me help.”
Viktor hesitated, his pride warring with his practicality. Finally, he relented, shifting slightly to give Jayce better access to the limb.
Jayce worked with a focused precision, carefully examining the joint and wiping away any lingering moisture. His hands were steady but soft, and Viktor couldn’t help but relax slightly under his touch.
“It’s the cold,” Jayce murmured after a moment, adjusting a small screw and applying a thin layer of oil to the joint. “It’s made the mechanisms stiff. That, combined with your fever, is probably why it’s hurting so much.”
“I told you,” Viktor said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “It will pass.”
“It will,” Jayce agreed, glancing up at him. “But it doesn’t mean you should suffer through it alone.”
Viktor looked away, the weight of Jayce’s words settling over him. He wasn’t used to someone fussing over him like this, nor was he entirely sure how to handle it.
Jayce finished his adjustments and straightened, wiping his hands on a rag. “There,” he said. “That should help for now. But you need to let me know if it gets worse, okay?”
Viktor nodded reluctantly, though a small, grateful smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “Thank you, Jayce.”
Jayce returned the smile, his eyes softening. “Anytime. Now, you’re going to rest. No arguments.”
Viktor chuckled faintly, settling back into the cot. The ache in his leg had dulled, and though his body still felt weak, he allowed himself to close his eyes, comforted by Jayce’s presence nearby.
For once, he didn’t feel the need to bear the burden alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The workshop was quiet save for the faint ticking of a nearby clock and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Jayce had dozed off in his chair again, his head resting on his folded arms atop Viktor’s workbench. The warm glow of the heater cast a soft light over the room, but it wasn’t enough to chase away the chill that had settled into Viktor’s bones.
Viktor stirred restlessly in his cot, his body drenched in sweat. His fever, which had seemed to ease earlier, had surged back with a vengeance. Every inch of him ached, his mind clouded and swimming in half-formed thoughts.
Something tugged at him—a deep-seated panic that clawed at his chest. He couldn’t stay here. The projects waiting on the workbench called to him, their blueprints etched into his fevered mind like a brand. He had to work. He had to fix something. Anything.
Shoving the blanket off, Viktor swung his legs over the side of the cot, his movements clumsy and uncoordinated. His mechanical leg groaned in protest, the earlier stiffness not entirely resolved. He barely noticed.
The motion was enough to rouse Jayce, who blinked groggily before snapping to full alertness at the sight of Viktor trying to stand.
“Viktor! What the hell are you doing?” Jayce demanded, already on his feet.
“I… I must work,” Viktor mumbled, his voice shaky and strained. He wobbled precariously, his cane slipping from his grasp as he tried to push himself upright. “There is no time to waste.”
Jayce crossed the room in two quick strides, catching Viktor by the shoulders before he could collapse. “No way,” Jayce said firmly, his voice a mix of anger and worry. “You’re burning up. You’re not going anywhere but back to bed.”
Viktor weakly pushed against him, his golden eyes wild and unfocused. “I cannot… I cannot rest! There is too much… too much to do!”
“You’re delirious,” Jayce said, his heart pounding. He tightened his grip, one hand steadying Viktor’s waist while the other guided him back toward the cot. Viktor resisted, his movements jerky and desperate, but he was far too weak to put up a real fight.
“Let me go!” Viktor rasped, his voice cracking. Panic flared in his expression, his fever-fueled determination giving way to something more vulnerable. “I must—”
“No,” Jayce cut him off, his voice softening but remaining firm. “You don’t have to do anything except rest and get better.”
With surprising strength, Jayce scooped Viktor up, ignoring the sputtering protests and the half-hearted attempts to wriggle free. Viktor’s fevered skin was alarmingly hot against his arms, his weight far lighter than it should have been.
“You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep this up,” Jayce said, more to himself than to Viktor as he laid him back onto the cot. He gently but firmly tucked the blankets around him, his hands lingering on Viktor’s shoulders to keep him in place.
Viktor’s breathing was labored, his chest heaving as tears of frustration welled in his eyes. “I… I cannot waste time,” he murmured, his voice breaking. “There is so much to do. I cannot… fail.”
Jayce’s heart clenched at the vulnerability in Viktor’s voice. He crouched down so they were eye level, his hands still steadying Viktor’s trembling frame. “Hey,” Jayce said softly, his tone full of reassurance. “You’re not failing. You’re sick, Viktor. That’s all. And it’s okay to rest. You need to rest.”
Viktor’s breath hitched, his golden eyes glassy as he stared at Jayce. For a moment, his resistance faltered, the fight draining from his body as exhaustion took hold.
Jayce reached for the damp cloth he’d left by the bed earlier, pressing it gently to Viktor’s forehead. “I’m here,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’re not alone in this, okay? Let me take care of you.”
Viktor closed his eyes, a shuddering sigh escaping him as he finally allowed himself to sink into the cot. Jayce stayed by his side, his hand resting lightly on Viktor’s shoulder, a silent promise that he wouldn’t let anything happen to him.
The fever raged on through the night, but Viktor no longer tried to fight it alone.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The storm outside had quieted to a gentle patter of rain, but inside the workshop, the tension was anything but calm. Viktor lay tangled in his blankets, his face flushed with fever. His brow glistened with sweat, and his breathing was shallow, punctuated by soft, restless murmurs.
Jayce sat beside him, perched on the edge of the cot with an expression of quiet determination. In one hand, he held a cold compress, pressing it gently to Viktor’s forehead. In the other, he clutched a cup of water, ready for the next moment Viktor stirred enough to take a sip.
“Come on, Vik,” Jayce whispered as he replaced the compress with a freshly chilled one. “We’ve faced tougher things than this. You’ve got to pull through, okay?”
Viktor stirred at the sound of his voice, his golden eyes cracking open just enough to meet Jayce’s worried gaze. His lips moved, but no sound came out. Jayce leaned closer, brushing a damp strand of hair away from Viktor’s face.
“What is it?” Jayce asked softly.
“…Annoying,” Viktor rasped, his voice barely audible.
Jayce blinked, then let out a soft laugh. “Annoying? Really? You’re delirious with fever, and that’s what you want to tell me?”
Viktor’s lips curved into the faintest of smiles, but it quickly faded as a cough rattled through him. Jayce’s laughter died, replaced by the familiar pang of worry that had gripped him all night.
“Here,” Jayce said, sliding an arm under Viktor’s shoulders to help him sit up slightly. “Drink some water. Slowly.”
Viktor groaned but didn’t resist, leaning heavily against Jayce’s broad frame as the cup was brought to his lips. The water was cool and soothing, and though each sip felt like a monumental effort, he drank without complaint.
“That’s it,” Jayce encouraged, his voice warm and gentle. “Just a little more.”
When Viktor had finished, Jayce eased him back down, tucking the blankets snugly around him. Viktor let out a faint hum of appreciation, his fever-addled mind too tired to protest the care being lavished on him.
For the next few hours, Jayce remained a constant presence at his side. He rotated the compresses diligently, cooling them in a basin of ice water he’d fetched from the kitchen. He coaxed Viktor into drinking fluids whenever he woke, murmuring words of encouragement and reassurance each time Viktor’s fevered ramblings veered into anxious territory.
At one point, Viktor’s hand reached out, weak and trembling, searching for something. Jayce didn’t hesitate, taking the hand in his own and squeezing gently.
“I’m here,” Jayce said softly, his thumb brushing over Viktor’s knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Viktor’s grip tightened ever so slightly, a silent acknowledgment that he’d heard him.
As the hours crept toward dawn, the fever finally began to break. Viktor’s breathing grew steadier, the flush on his cheeks fading to a healthier hue. Jayce noticed the change and let out a sigh of relief, leaning back in his chair for the first time in what felt like forever.
“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to Viktor.
But as if in response, Viktor stirred again, his voice hoarse but clearer than before. “…You worry too much,” he muttered, his eyes fluttering open just enough to see Jayce’s relieved smile.
“And you don’t worry enough,” Jayce shot back, his tone teasing but soft. “It’s a good thing I’m here to balance you out.”
Viktor gave a small, tired chuckle, the sound faint but genuine. “You are… insufferable.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Jayce said, adjusting the blankets one last time. “You keep saying that, but you don’t seem to mind having me around.”
Viktor didn’t reply, already drifting back to sleep, his body finally finding the rest it so desperately needed.
Jayce stayed by his side, his hand still holding Viktor’s. For the first time all night, his heart felt lighter. Viktor was on the mend, and that was all that mattered.
The sun broke through the rainclouds the next morning, filling the workshop with soft, golden light. The air was still damp from the storm, but it carried a gentle warmth that promised clearer skies ahead. Jayce stood by the window, watching as the city stirred to life. He’d barely slept, his worry keeping him tethered to Viktor’s bedside, but now, as he glanced over at his friend, he allowed himself to hope.
Viktor was still asleep, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The fever had finally subsided in the early hours, leaving his face pale but peaceful. Jayce had adjusted the blankets around him several times, just to make sure he was comfortable.
A soft groan drew Jayce’s attention, and he turned just as Viktor began to stir. Slowly, Viktor’s eyes blinked open, their golden hue still dulled with exhaustion but clearer than they had been.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Jayce teased, his voice warm and light. He moved to Viktor’s side, pulling a chair closer. “How are you feeling?”
Viktor blinked up at him, his brow furrowing as he tried to gather his thoughts. “Tired,” he admitted, his voice raspy but stronger than the night before. “But… better.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” Jayce said, grinning as he reached for a glass of water on the nightstand. “Here, drink this. You’ve got to stay hydrated.”
Viktor rolled his eyes but accepted the glass, his hands trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips. Jayce steadied him, his large hand wrapping around Viktor’s to help guide the glass.
“Do you intend to hover like this for the foreseeable future?” Viktor asked after a long sip, his tone tinged with exasperation but softened by a faint smile.
“You bet,” Jayce said, leaning back in his chair. “Until you’re back on your feet, you’re stuck with me.”
Viktor huffed a quiet laugh, his head sinking back against the pillow. “It seems I have little choice in the matter.”
“Exactly,” Jayce said, crossing his arms with mock triumph.
The next few days passed in a comfortable rhythm. Jayce took it upon himself to make sure Viktor wanted for nothing, despite the latter’s frequent protests. He brought Viktor bowls of warm soup, adjusted the cot to make sure he was always at the right angle for comfort, and even went as far as propping up a few books for him when Viktor felt well enough to read.
On the second day, Jayce caught Viktor attempting to reach for a notebook on the bedside table, his mechanical arm straining from the awkward angle.
“Oh no, you don’t,” Jayce said, snatching the notebook before Viktor could grab it.
“Jayce,” Viktor said, his voice laced with a warning. “Give that back.”
“Not a chance,” Jayce replied, holding the notebook out of reach. “You’re supposed to be resting. The work can wait.”
“You are insufferable,” Viktor muttered, though there was no real heat in his words.
“And you’re stubborn,” Jayce shot back, setting the notebook down far out of Viktor’s reach. “But lucky for you, I’m just as stubborn, so you’re not going to win this one.”
Viktor sighed, his head falling back against the pillow in defeat. “Fine,” he said, though the corner of his lips twitched upward.
Jayce took note of every little improvement—how Viktor’s voice grew stronger, how his appetite returned, how his color slowly came back. But even as Viktor recovered, Jayce didn’t ease up on his hovering. He insisted on bringing Viktor tea every evening, the kind with honey and herbs, and sat with him as they talked about anything and everything—past experiments, childhood memories, even theoretical designs for future inventions.
One night, Viktor looked over at Jayce, his golden eyes glowing softly in the lamplight. “You have done too much for me,” he said, his tone quieter than usual.
“Too much?” Jayce repeated, his brow furrowing. “Vik, you were seriously sick. I wasn’t about to just leave you to fend for yourself.”
Viktor hesitated, his fingers fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. “I am not… accustomed to this,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “To being cared for like this.”
Jayce’s expression softened, and he reached out to place a hand over Viktor’s. “Well, get used to it,” he said with a grin, his thumb brushing gently over Viktor’s knuckles. “Because I’m not going anywhere. You’ve been taking care of yourself for too long, and it’s about time someone else stepped in.”
Viktor didn’t reply right away, but his hand turned slightly, just enough for his fingers to curl around Jayce’s.
The next morning, Viktor surprised Jayce by sitting up on his own, a determined look in his eyes.
“You’re getting stronger,” Jayce said, unable to hide the pride in his voice.
“Thanks to you,” Viktor replied, a rare warmth in his tone.
Jayce laughed, clapping Viktor lightly on the shoulder. “What are partners for, right?”
“Partners,” Viktor echoed, the word carrying a weight that made Jayce’s smile soften.
From then on, Viktor’s recovery became a shared effort. Jayce continued to fuss, and Viktor continued to grumble, but neither of them truly minded. The days were filled with warmth and quiet companionship, the bond between them growing stronger with each passing moment.
By the time Viktor was well enough to return to his workbench, he paused, looking over at Jayce with a rare, genuine smile. “You were right,” he said softly.
Jayce raised an eyebrow. “About what?”
“About not doing everything alone,” Viktor replied, his golden eyes steady. “It is… easier, with you here.”
Jayce’s grin stretched wide, and he clapped a hand on Viktor’s back. “Good,” he said. “Because I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
And for the first time in a long while, Viktor didn’t feel the need to argue.