Chapter Text
Jayce Talis was a creature of habit, and every habit began with his spot in AP Science. Back row, third seat from the left—the perfect balance of close enough to the teacher to look engaged but far enough to avoid being called on.
But this morning, his routine was disrupted.
Someone was in his spot.
Jayce stopped mid-stride, backpack slung lazily over one shoulder, as he scanned the unfamiliar figure hunched over his notebook. The guy was all sharp angles: thin frame, messy hair that fell into his eyes, and a rigid posture that screamed “I don’t want to be here.” His hands moved quickly, scribbling notes or maybe doodles—it was hard to tell. Jayce furrowed his brow.
“Uh, hey. You’re in my seat.”
The boy looked up slowly, unbothered by the accusation. His pale green eyes narrowed as he sized Jayce up. “I wasn’t aware seats were assigned.”
Jayce blinked, taken aback by the sharp tone. “Well, they’re not technically assigned, but...you know, everyone just kind of sits where they—never mind.” He gestured vaguely to the chair. “Can you move?”
“No.”
“No?”
“No,” the boy repeated, turning back to his notebook.
Jayce stood there, dumbfounded. Who did this guy think he was? He wasn’t about to let some new kid mess with the delicate social order of AP Science. Before he could argue, Mr. Heimerdinger’s voice boomed from the front of the room.
“Ah, Mr. Talis! How wonderful of you to join us. Please take your seat—next to Mr. Viktor here. You two will be lab partners for the semester!”
Jayce froze. Lab partners? With this guy? He glanced back at Viktor, who was now smirking slightly, clearly amused by Jayce’s frustration.
“Great,” Jayce muttered under his breath, reluctantly sliding into the chair next to him.
As the class progressed, Jayce couldn’t help but glance over at Viktor’s notebook. It wasn’t doodles after all—it was an intricate diagram of some kind of machine. Jayce’s curiosity got the better of him.
“What’s that?” he asked, leaning over slightly.
“A design for an artificial arm,” Viktor replied without looking up.
“Wait, you just…came up with that during class?”
Viktor finally turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised. “Yes. Why?”
Jayce grinned despite himself. “That’s impressive. I mean, really impressive.”
Viktor’s expression softened, just a fraction. “Thank you.”
For the rest of the period, the two fell into an easy rhythm. Jayce found himself surprisingly intrigued by Viktor’s ideas, and Viktor, though reluctant at first, seemed to enjoy having someone to bounce concepts off of.
By the end of class, Jayce had almost forgotten about the “stolen seat” incident. Almost.
“You know, you could’ve just said ‘excuse me’ instead of being a jerk about it,” Jayce said as they packed up their things.
“And you could have simply found another seat,” Viktor shot back, though there was a hint of a smile on his face.
Jayce rolled his eyes but smiled, too. Maybe being lab partners wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Their first project together came sooner than Jayce expected. Mr. Heimerdinger handed out a stack of instructions for building a device that could efficiently transfer energy between two points without losing power.
Jayce’s eyes lit up as he scanned the paper. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
Viktor, sitting beside him with his usual detached air, simply hummed in response.
“C’mon, Viktor,” Jayce teased. “You don’t look excited. This is cutting-edge stuff!”
“It is basic,” Viktor said, his voice calm but firm. “Any textbook will tell you how to do this.” He tapped his pencil on the paper. “What matters is improving efficiency, not repeating someone else’s methods.”
Jayce leaned back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “Basic? This is AP Science, not Intro to Engineering. Besides, it’s a lab exercise—we’re supposed to follow the instructions.”
Viktor gave him a pointed look. “Following instructions is not how innovation happens.”
Jayce frowned but didn’t respond immediately. He had to admit, Viktor had a point, but there was something about the way he said it that grated on Jayce. “Fine,” he said after a moment. “What do you suggest, Einstein?”
Viktor didn’t react to the jab. Instead, he opened his notebook and began sketching. “If we use a magnetic field to stabilize the energy transfer, we can reduce the loss by at least twenty percent. But it will require recalibrating the generator.”
Jayce leaned in, watching the diagram come to life under Viktor’s pencil. It was brilliant, but it also looked unnecessarily complicated. “Okay, sure, that’s genius—but how are we supposed to finish this before Friday if we overcomplicate it?”
“Complication,” Viktor said, not looking up, “is a matter of perspective. If you cannot handle it, you are free to follow the instructions.”
Jayce bristled. “Oh, I can handle it. But maybe you could consider that not everything has to be perfect.”
That got Viktor’s attention. He set his pencil down and looked at Jayce, his expression unreadable. “Striving for ‘good enough’ is what holds most people back. If you want to succeed, you must aim higher.”
Jayce stared back, unsure if he was annoyed or impressed. “You’re exhausting, you know that?”
“And you are predictable,” Viktor shot back, though there was a faint curve to his lips.
Despite their bickering, they settled into a rhythm over the next few days. Viktor’s precision and out-of-the-box thinking pushed the boundaries of their project, while Jayce’s hands-on approach kept things moving forward.
On Wednesday afternoon, they met in the lab after school to finalize their prototype. Jayce fiddled with the generator’s wiring while Viktor adjusted the magnetic stabilizer.
“You’re not going to get the voltage you want if you connect it like that,” Viktor said without looking up.
Jayce huffed. “And you’re not going to get it to work at all if you keep recalibrating every five seconds.”
Viktor sighed and straightened up, brushing his hair out of his eyes. “Do you always talk so much?”
“Only when my lab partner is this bossy.”
Despite the tension in their words, there was an ease to their banter now. Viktor’s lips twitched, and Jayce, noticing, couldn’t help but grin.
By the time they finished, the lab was empty, the sun outside dipping below the horizon. They stood side by side, watching their device hum to life.
“See?” Jayce said, nudging Viktor’s shoulder. “We make a good team.”
Viktor glanced at him, the corners of his mouth curving into the faintest smile. “Perhaps.”
For a moment, they stood there in companionable silence, the glow of the device casting long shadows across the room.
Jayce broke the quiet. “So, where’d you learn to do all this stuff? You said you’re a transfer, right?”
Viktor hesitated, his fingers idly tapping the edge of the lab table. “I...taught myself. Mostly.”
Jayce tilted his head. “That’s pretty badass.”
Viktor didn’t respond, but the slight flush creeping up his neck didn’t go unnoticed.