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Chapter Text

Viktor

At first, it was easy to ignore the dreams.

A mix of vague visions and unclear emotions that faded the moment he woke up.

But over time, they grew more vivid and distinct, until they finally began to overshadow the world Viktor woke up to each morning.

Jayce was always there, but he was... different.

Not just a colleague, not just a partner, and not just a friend who often smiled at him with that warm, disarming grin. In those dreams, he was also everything Viktor had secretly longed for but never dared to truly hope for.

He couldn’t clearly remember what exactly happened in those dreams after waking, but his thoughts kept drifting back to the sense of warmth and care—and to the intense, unwavering attention Jayce gave him. Jayce would also touch him now and then, seemingly by accident, with a tenderness that Viktor found almost unbearable. His skin would burn for a while after those touches.

And, just like in reality, they talked a lot. About what? He could never remember afterward, but the feeling always lingered, like a tranquilizer. Warmth. Calm. Complete acceptance.

The sense that someone understood him so deeply, in a way no one ever had in reality.

There was something else, something truly incredible. In these dreams, Viktor was whole. He moved freely and without pain, feeling better than he ever had in his life. He didn’t need braces or a cane, and he never experienced the exhaustion that so often overwhelmed him in reality. He became the person he had always wanted to be.

Viktor grew to loathe the moment he woke, when the comforting warmth of the dream dissolved, leaving him to face the cold, unkind reality once more. Pain returned, along with the bitter truth that it had all been an illusion.

Still, every night, the dreams waited for him. And every day, the pull grew stronger.

Viktor rubbed at his temples, glaring at the blurred lines of his schematics. The daylight streaming through the window made the weight dragging at his eyelids feel even more unnatural. He was used to pushing through fatigue—his body rarely allowed him much ease—but this was different. He shook his head, forcing himself to sit up straighter.

The calculations before him were crucial. He couldn’t afford to stop. Yet, his thoughts slipped, unspooling like threads, tangling in images he didn’t summon.

Jayce’s voice, low and inviting, whispered from the corners of his mind.

Viktor blinked hard. This is ridiculous.

He stood up, grabbed the cane leaning against the chair, and made his way to the sink to splash his face with cold water. It didn’t help. The moment he was back in the chair, the drowsiness crashed over him with renewed force.

Finally, he gave in and rested his head on his arms. "Just for a moment," he murmured.

The golden light enveloped him immediately, warm and welcoming. And there was Jayce, waiting as if he’d been there all along, as if the very air was shaped by his presence.

“You’re so tense,” Jayce said, his voice steady, soothing. He stepped closer, his fingers brushing Viktor’s arm. “You push yourself too hard.”

Viktor tensed under the touch, a fleeting urge to pull away flaring up before vanishing. It felt too real, too comforting.

Jayce leaned in, his hand moving to rest against Viktor’s shoulder. “Why do you keep resisting? Just let it all go. Let me help you.”

The words melted into the haze surrounding them. Viktor opened his mouth, but no reply came. The warmth, the ease, the quiet—it all felt like the answer to a question he hadn’t dared ask.

The dream tugged at him like a tide, pulling him deeper, and for a moment, he wondered why he had fought it at all.

Then came the thought, faint but sharp, cutting through the haze:

This isn’t right.

Jayce

Jayce leaned against the railing, scanning the workshop below. Viktor was at his station, working as always, but today something felt off. His movements were slower, more tired, like the weight of his work had settled on his shoulders a little heavier than usual.

He hadn’t smiled in days. Not that rare, almost hidden curve of his lips Jayce had come to recognize, and certainly not the sharp, dry humor that used to catch him off guard.

Viktor seemed more distant, not in a way that was obvious, but Jayce noticed. If he hadn’t been paying so much attention to him lately, he might have missed it. Viktor had always been absorbed in his work, but now there was a slight distraction in his focus. He was still moving through the tasks, but it felt like something was off—perhaps it was just the usual stress, but maybe something entirely different.

Jayce watched as Viktor shuffled through some papers, barely glancing at them. He wanted to say something, ask if everything was alright, but he wasn’t sure if it would be too intrusive. Not that Viktor was sick or anything like that, right? Jayce couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, but what if he was just overthinking it?

“It’s fine,” Jayce muttered to himself. “He just needs some rest.”

The anxiety clung to him, refusing to go away. Viktor had never behaved like this before. It could have been simple tiredness, but what if there was something else behind it...

Jayce glanced at Viktor again and noticed that he had dozed off, his head resting on his arms. He quietly made his way down the stairs, then grabbed a blanket from the back of the nearest chair. Without a sound, he draped it gently over Viktor's shoulders. As he did, he paused for a moment, watching Viktor’s relaxed face. There was something soft about him in that moment, something that made Jayce’s chest tighten just a little.

Jayce stood for a second, then quietly walked away. It wasn’t like he was doing anything out of the ordinary. Just looking out for a friend. Right?

Viktor

He stood in the endless plain covered with snow, shimmering under the bright sunlight. The snow sparkled as though countless diamonds had been scattered across its surface, each catching the light and glistening with dazzling patterns. The air was fresh and crisp, with a light, sweet coolness. He felt alive, his muscles strong, and his body moved with a flexibility he hadn’t known in years. No braces, no aching joints—just an overwhelming sense of health, of vitality. He reveled in it, feeling the power in his limbs, the strength in his every step.

Of course, Jayce was there too. Always Jayce, with his intense gaze, pulling in like a black hole, with no way out. There was a softness in those eyes, but something else too—something that hinted at an intimacy that went beyond words. It was as if Jayce could see straight through him, to the parts Viktor had always kept hidden.

“You don’t have to hide,” Jayce said, his voice a whisper, but it felt like it had the power to fill the entire space. He reached out, brushing his fingers against Viktor’s arm. The touch was light, but it sent a surge of warmth through him. Viktor’s pulse quickened, his body responding in a way that was both foreign and incredibly familiar.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” Viktor replied, his voice slightly hoarse, and he truly didn’t. A part of him wanted to pull away, to remember the boundaries he had always kept, but that part felt insignificant here, overwhelmed by the pull of Jayce’s presence.

Jayce wasn’t at all bothered by Viktor’s hesitation. On the contrary, he moved even closer, their faces only a few inches apart. The air between them was thick, almost tangible, charged with tension. "Everything’s fine," Jayce whispered, his lips curving into a smile that made Viktor hold his breath. "You don’t need to resist."

Viktor attempted to turn away, but Jayce’s hand was already on his cheek, soft yet firm. Viktor barely managed to breathe, his head spinning. This wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. This wasn’t the Jayce he knew. But his touch felt more real than anything Viktor had ever experienced.

“Stay with me,” Jayce whispered, his lips brushing against Viktor’s ear. “Stay with me. Stay here. I’ll make it all better.”

For a fleeting moment, Viktor was lost. Everything else—the aches, the exhaustion, the distance—faded away. He was whole again. And Jayce was the answer to everything. To the loneliness. To the pain. To the longing he’d never let himself fully acknowledge.

Viktor closed his eyes, the pull of the dream stronger than ever. The warmth, the connection, the way Jayce’s hands traced over his skin—it was intoxicating. He wanted to stay here. He wanted to surrender to the feeling, to let Jayce’s touch be the only thing that mattered. This world was perfect. And Jayce... Jayce was perfect.

But just as he was about to give in, a sharp thought pierced through the fog of desire. This is dangerous.

Viktor’s eyes snapped open, and the pull of the dream slightly faded. Jayce was smiling at him, and his smile seemed like a promise, alluring, making Viktor’s heart tighten with some unclear feeling. He wanted to stay, but something was wrong, though he couldn’t quite figure out what. Something didn’t belong.

He stepped away, though his body fought it, as if he were leaving a part of himself behind. "I... I can't," Viktor whispered, the words barely audible to him.

Jayce kept holding his hand, his intense gaze still fixed on him.

"You’re not alone," he said, in a tone that made it feel like a secret now known only to the two of them. Then, he let go, giving his fingers one last squeeze, tender in a way Viktor wasn’t ready for.

Waking up, he lifted his head and winced at the sharp light from the desk lamp, instantly blinding him. The memories of Jayce's touch, the warmth of his presence, his closeness—they lingered in his mind, pulling him back to the dream. The emptiness of waking felt sharp, and for a moment, Viktor felt more lost than ever.

That was the problem, wasn’t it? In the dream, he was whole. And now, he was broken again.

Chapter Text

Jayce

Jayce adjusted his tie, glancing over at Viktor, who was standing off to the side, arms crossed, his expression unreadable. They’d been invited to this social gathering—another one of those upper-crust events that Jayce had grown used to but Viktor always seemed to loathe. Jayce had practically begged him to come, claiming it would be good for their work, good for their reputations. Viktor had resisted, of course, but in the end, Jayce had worn him down. He always did, in his own way.

“Come on, admit it. It's not the worst,” Jayce said, flashing a grin as he adjusted his tie for what felt like the hundredth time.

Viktor barely looked at him, the faintest arch of an eyebrow the only acknowledgment. “If you say so,” he muttered, his gaze scanning the room. His tone wasn’t unkind, but it was distant, the way it often was in environments like this.

Jayce couldn’t help but smile at that. Viktor’s dry humor was a constant, even in the most tedious of circumstances. He couldn’t say he blamed him—these events weren’t exactly Jayce’s idea of a good time either. But there were people to impress, connections to make. Still, it felt more like an obligation than something they both genuinely enjoyed.

Jayce opened his mouth to tease Viktor again, but a group of investors caught their attention as they approached. He straightened up, preparing for another round of discussions. But Viktor immediately took charge of the conversation, as they were mostly interested in technical details he excelled at, and Jayce relaxed, letting him take the lead.

But before he could get too comfortable, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Jayce,” Mel called out, her voice cutting through the chatter as she stepped into his line of sight.

Jayce turned, surprised to see her, and instantly felt her presence in the room. Her beauty was undeniable—every step she took seemed deliberate, graceful, and just enough to catch attention.

Without missing a beat, she smiled and quickly said, “I need to borrow you for a moment. Come on, let’s step outside for a second. There’s something I need your expertise on.”

Mel’s smile widened as she led him away from the crowd, gently guiding him toward a quieter area of the venue. Once they were out of earshot from the investors, she slowed down, her tone shifting to something more casual.

“You know,” she said with a soft laugh, “I didn’t exactly have an urgent issue I needed your help with.” Her voice was light, teasing. “I just wanted to get you out of there for a moment.”

“Wait, you…?”

Mel’s expression softened into something more genuine, her smile warm. “I thought you could use a break. You’ve been surrounded by business talk all evening, and honestly, it’s exhausting just watching. Don’t you think?” She raised an eyebrow, her voice playful yet confident. “I figured you could use a little time to relax. Viktor will be fine.”

Jayce glanced back toward the group, feeling a momentary twinge of guilt, but Viktor didn’t seem to need him. He was fine on his own, as always.

Mel was right. Viktor was always fine.

Jayce turned back to her with a small smile. “I guess you’re right. He can handle himself.”

Mel smirked, leaning in a little closer, her gaze unwavering. “Exactly. And you deserve a little fun too, don’t you think?”

Jayce’s chest tightened slightly. She was undeniably attractive, and it wasn’t lost on him that she was being more than friendly. There was something magnetic about her confidence, the way she carried herself, and he could see why people were drawn to her.

He cleared his throat, trying to focus. "I suppose I really could use a break from all this work talk," he said with a smile. But as soon as the words left his lips, a flicker of doubt crept in. What exactly was he agreeing to?

Mel’s eyes twinkled. “I thought so,” she said softly. She leaned in just a little more, her voice dropping to a more intimate tone. “You know, you don’t have to be so serious all the time, Jayce. Life’s too short for that.”

Jayce shifted slightly, feeling the warmth of her proximity. Her perfume was subtle but intoxicating, and he found himself momentarily distracted by it. He tried to stay composed, but the pull of her closeness made it difficult to focus. He chuckled lightly, but there was a hint of unease in his smile. “I’m not always serious,” he said, though his voice betrayed a touch of uncertainty.

Mel’s lips curved into a knowing smile, and she raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because you sure do act like it.” She reached out casually, her fingers brushing against his arm in a way that felt deliberate but not too forward. “But you don’t have to impress me, Jayce. I already know what you’re capable of.”

There was no denying the effect she had on him, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say. He had always been drawn to women who exuded confidence, and Mel certainly fit that description.

“I—I’m not trying to impress you,” he stammered, feeling his usual confidence start to slip away. “Just... trying to stay focused.”

Mel’s smile softened as she studied him, her gaze lingering a bit longer than before. “Focus can be overrated,” she teased, tilting her head slightly. “Besides, Viktor seems to be doing just fine without you. Maybe it’s time you focused on something—or someone—else for a change.”

There was a clear suggestion in her voice, and Jayce felt a heat rise in him, his cheeks starting to burn. He knew she was joking. Though... something in the way she said it made him wonder if she was just teasing him or if she was serious.

She leaned back slightly, her eyes never leaving his. "What do you say we take a walk in the garden?" she proposed with a playful tone, the same subtle hint in her voice. "Get some fresh air. I think we both could use it.”

"Yeah, that sounds good," said Jayce. “A walk sounds nice.”

With a final glance back at Viktor, Jayce followed Mel, feeling the shift in the air between them, the playful tension building with every step they took away from the crowd.

Viktor

Viktor’s attention flickered back to the investors, though it was hard to keep his mind focused. They were discussing the potential for new projects, their words a blur of corporate jargon that he didn’t need to pay attention to. His eyes drifted again, and his gaze inevitably found its way to the spot where Jayce and Mel had been standing.

At first, it was just them talking, but soon the exchange had shifted. Mel had leaned in closer, and Jayce—Jayce of all people—was standing a little too still, his eyes wide, his cheeks flushed. Viktor’s chest tightened as he watched, his stomach knotting in a way he couldn’t quite explain. Was Jayce… blushing?

He tried to focus on the investors again, but his mind was a hundred miles away. He couldn’t shake the image of Mel and Jayce, the way they seemed to be in their own little world now, laughing softly. He tried not to look again, but it was impossible.

They were laughing together. She was flirting with him, plain as day. His friend, his closest friend, seemed to be having a great time, and Viktor knew he had no right to feel the jealousy that was beginning to burn inside him.

But of course he’s interested in her, Viktor thought bitterly. Why wouldn’t he be?

Jayce was everything Viktor wasn’t. He was flawless—handsome, charismatic, confident. And Mel, beautiful as she was, seemed captivated by him, of course. Why wouldn’t she be?

The way Jayce carried himself, the way people gravitated toward him. He was so effortlessly charming, and…

So.

Damn.

Beautiful.

It’s foolish, he told himself. I should be happy for him. He deserves this. A woman like Mel? She’s perfect for him.

But instead, Viktor only felt the growing sense of loss. He had spent so long hiding his feelings, burying them deep, convincing himself that they were nothing more than fleeting thoughts. But seeing Jayce like this, seeing him blush under Mel’s attention, made him feel the weight of everything he had tried to ignore for so long.

Jayce had never looked at Viktor the way he looked at Mel. And why would he? Why would he look at Viktor like that when Viktor was just... himself? Too plain, too awkward, too broken.

As Viktor's thoughts churned, his eyes followed Jayce’s movements. Mel had already turned toward the garden doors, her steps light, purposeful. Jayce trailed behind her, his attention fixed entirely on her, as though drawn by an invisible thread. Their intentions were clear—they wanted to be alone.

Viktor swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, the ache in his chest swelling. He forced himself to focus on the clinking of glasses and muted conversations around him, but nothing could drown out the whispers of his own imagination.

He should be happy for Jayce, he told himself again. He should be glad that someone like Mel was paying attention to him. But instead, he felt anger building inside him, anger at himself, at the situation, at everything. What right did he have to be jealous?

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. They were best friends. Nothing more. That was the way it had always been, and Viktor had told himself that was enough. But in that moment, with the sight of Jayce laughing with Mel, he felt a kind of loneliness that he couldn’t shake.

He had his dreams. He had his sleep—his only escape. And maybe that was all he would ever have.

The investors finally started to move away, sensing the conversation was winding down, and Viktor felt a rush of relief. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone else. He just wanted to leave, to get away from this stupid party, to find somewhere quiet where he could let everything settle.

He wanted to get out of here. He wanted to leave Mel and Jayce to whatever it was they had—he didn’t care anymore.

All Viktor wanted now was to sleep. To escape into his dreams, where, just for a while, he could pretend that everything was different. In his dreams, he wasn’t the one left behind. In his dreams, he could be happy.

He turned, already moving toward the exit, his mind swirling with exhaustion and regret.

Jayce

The garden was a quiet escape from the noise of the party, the chatter and clinking glasses fading into the background as Jayce and Mel walked together. The cool evening air felt refreshing after the warmth inside. The sky above was a dark blue, scattered with stars, and the moon hung low, casting a soft, silver glow over the garden.

As they walked deeper, Mel’s presence seemed to fill the space around them. She moved with an effortless grace, the soft rustling of her dress barely audible. Her beauty was impossible to ignore—the soft glow of the moonlight made her skin look almost ethereal, and the golden flecks of her makeup shimmered like tiny stars as they caught the light. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, like they were daring Jayce to notice how intoxicating she was.

The soft curve of her smile grew as she looked at him, her gaze intense, pulling him in without a word. “It’s nice out here, don’t you think?” she said, her voice low, almost too casual, as if she were just making small talk. But there was a certain weight to her words, a subtle undertone of something more. She wasn’t just admiring the garden; she was admiring him, too.

Jayce felt a warmth spread through him, though he couldn’t quite tell if it was from Mel’s presence or something else entirely. He nodded, his heart picking up its pace. “Yeah, it’s... peaceful,” he said, his voice betraying a slight hesitation. He didn’t want to admit it, but there was something about Mel being this close, this magnetic, that made him feel both excited and a little out of his depth.

Mel took a small step closer, her perfume a soft floral fragrance that seemed to cling to the night air. “I’m glad we could get away from all that noise,” she said, her voice deliberately slower now, each word dripping with unspoken intent. She tilted her head slightly, her eyes flickering between his lips and his eyes. “It’s nice to be alone with someone who knows how to appreciate the quiet.”

“I guess sometimes, you just need a break.”

Her fingers brushed lightly against his arm as she spoke, the contact brief but enough to send a spark of heat through him. She was playing with him, teasing him, and Jayce felt both drawn to her and trapped by the tension in the air. He wasn’t sure how to respond, his thoughts racing, but he couldn’t deny the way his body reacted to her closeness.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” Jayce said, trying to sound nonchalant, though there was a slight crack in his voice. His words came out more vulnerable than he intended.

Mel’s smile turned softer, almost tender, and she laughed lightly. “What can I say? I know how to have fun.” She glanced at him with a playful gleam in her eyes, leaning even closer, her breath warm against his ear. “Do you know how to have fun, Jayce?”

Jayce’s heart raced at the closeness, the playful challenge in her voice. He didn’t know how to answer, and for a brief moment, all he could do was feel the pull between them, the magnetic force that she exuded. It was intoxicating, and he wondered what it would be like to give in.

Mel leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his. The kiss was soft at first, almost tentative, but it deepened quickly, as if she knew exactly what she wanted. Jayce’s breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything else faded. It was warm and wet, her lips pressing gently against his, her hands light on his chest. His mind raced, but his body seemed to forget everything else. It was nice. It was really pleasant.

But then, as if out of nowhere, something shifted.

In the midst of the kiss, an unexpected thought surfaced in his mind—a flash of Viktor’s face, his familiar, intense gaze. The image was sudden, jarring, and Jayce couldn’t understand how it had even entered his head. The warmth of Mel’s kiss was still there, but somehow it didn’t feel right. Instead of her, his mind’s eye saw Viktor, imagining Viktor’s lips instead of hers. The feeling left him cold, disoriented.

He pulled back abruptly, his heart hammering in his chest. The suddenness of the move caught him off guard, and a rush of guilt washed over him. No, no, no... What had just happened? How had his mind—his thoughts—betrayed him like that?

Mel blinked, clearly confused, her eyes narrowing with curiosity. “What’s the matter?” she asked, her voice smooth but tinged with concern. “Everything okay?”

“I—uh…” Jayce stammered, trying to steady his breathing. “I just remembered something. I really need to get back to the lab. There’s something I forgot to do.” His words came out too quickly, even though he barely believed them himself.

Mel tilted her head, a teasing smile on her lips. “You sure? We were having fun, Jayce.”

He forced a smile, but it felt wrong, like it didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re amazing, Mel. You really are. But... I can’t, not right now. I need to clear my head. I’m sorry.”

She studied him for a long moment, but didn’t press further. With a slight shrug, she stepped back. “Alright then. But I’ll hold you to this, Jayce. Next time, no escaping.”

Jayce nodded awkwardly, turning to make his way back inside. His steps were quick, almost rushed, as he walked through the grand hall, the music and laughter blurring around him. It all felt distant, like he was walking in a haze. He needed to get away from this, from everything that was making him feel so... tangled.

He grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing tray, not even registering the taste as he swallowed it down in one quick gulp. The bubbles stung his throat, but it didn’t help. It didn’t do anything.

Pushing through the doors that led to the night, Jayce stepped into the cool air, which felt almost sharp against his skin. He walked with no real direction, his mind heavy with thoughts of Mel and the kiss, and, of course, Viktor. What had he just done? It was like his body had acted without his permission. He’d kissed her, and in that moment, his mind had betrayed him.

As he walked through the quiet streets, the towering silhouette of the lab ahead became more and more imposing. The city was so quiet, too quiet, and Jayce’s thoughts felt louder than ever.

She’s an incredible woman, he thought bitterly. And I’m here, messing it all up. She deserves someone who can actually be present with her. Not... whatever this is.

Ahead, the lab loomed, its dark windows staring down at him like empty eyes. The lab, where everything usually made sense. But maybe not tonight.

Chapter Text

Viktor

Viktor found himself in a snug winter cabin, the kind that seemed to exist outside of time. The air was rich with the smell of smoldering pine logs, their heat radiating from the large stone fireplace that dominated the room’s corner. Its mantle was rough and uneven, adorned with simple trinkets: a dried wreath of evergreen branches, a brass clock that ticked softly, and a pair of woolen gloves left to dry. The fire cast flickering amber light, painting the cabin’s wooden walls in warm hues and softening the edges of reality.

He stirred in a deep armchair near the hearth, the seat so comfortably worn it seemed to embrace him. A book rested open in his lap, the pages slightly bent from his grip. Around his neck was a red scarf, its color vivid against the muted gray of his sweater. Viktor blinked down at the book but couldn’t remember what he’d been reading—or why he felt so completely at ease.

The crackling fire filled the silence, and for a moment, Viktor thought he was alone. Then a warm hand slid over the back of the chair, fingertips brushing his shoulder, making him start slightly.

"Comfortable?" Jayce’s voice came from behind him, low and smooth.

Viktor tilted his head back, meeting Jayce’s gaze. In the firelight, his dark eyes shimmered, resembling molten bronze. He leaned casually against the back of the chair, his hair slightly tousled, as if he had just woken up.

"I could get used to this," Viktor replied.

Jayce leaned closer, and for a moment, Viktor thought he might kiss him—but instead, he reached down and plucked the book from Viktor’s lap.

“Interesting choice,” Jayce remarked, skimming the pages before setting it aside. "Come on, the snow has stopped, and I don't want to sit inside."

Before Viktor could protest, Jayce straightened and strode to the door, pulling on a thick coat and a scarf of his own.

Viktor sighed but rose to follow, wrapping his scarf tighter before grabbing his coat. The cold hit him the moment they stepped outside, crisp and invigorating, like a sharp inhale after holding his breath. The world was blanketed in pristine white, the snow sparkling under the bright winter sun. It was almost blinding, the light reflecting off the surface in sharp, dazzling shards.

The trees surrounding the cabin stood tall and silent, their branches heavy with snow. The only sounds were the crunch of boots and the occasional call of a bird somewhere in the distance.

Jayce was already ahead, turning back with a grin that was as brilliant as the sunlight. “Think fast!”

A snowball sailed through the air, hitting Viktor squarely in the chest. He froze for a moment, stunned, before scooping up his own handful of snow.

“You’ll regret that,” muttered him.

What followed was pure chaos. They chased each other through the clearing, their laughter echoing in the stillness. Viktor slipped once, catching himself on a tree, but used the opportunity to launch another attack. Jayce retaliated by tackling him into a snowbank, both of them landing in a flurry of powdery white.

Viktor gasped as the cold seeped through his coat, but he was laughing too hard to care. He pushed himself up, his gloved hands sinking into the snow on either side of Jayce. For a moment, he hovered there, his breath visible in the frosty air. Jayce’s face was flushed from the cold, his cheeks pink and his dark hair dusted with snowflakes that caught the sunlight like tiny stars.

“Still think you can win?” asked Jayce, smiling.

Viktor didn’t reply. He let the moment linger, his chest tightening as something unspoken passed between them. Then, with a small smirk, he grabbed another handful of snow and smashed it lightly onto Jayce’s head before leaping to his feet.

Jayce sputtered, shaking the snow from his hair as he scrambled after him. But Viktor was already moving, the thrill of the chase pulling him forward.

The sun climbed higher, its rays glinting off the snow-covered world, and for a fleeting moment, Viktor forgot everything else. The cold air stung his cheeks, the laughter warmed his chest, and the world around him shimmered with life.

As Jayce caught up and tackled him once more, pinning him to the ground with a triumphant laugh, Viktor’s heart raced—not from exertion but from something deeper, something that made the edges of reality blur.

And as Jayce leaned closer, his breath misting in the frosty air, Viktor thought to himself that he never wanted this to end.

Jayce

The lab was quiet, too quiet. The hum of the machines, the soft ticking of a wall clock—everything else was muted. Jayce walked in, closing the door behind him, the scent of the late-night party still lingering faintly on his clothes. The noise, the chatter, the thoughts about Mel.... He hadn’t been able to shake off the thoughts of the evening, of how it had gone, of what she might think of him now. Was it a mistake to let it happen? Was he too obvious? He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He needed to focus on work. There were papers to go through, formulas to check, the pile on his desk was waiting. Jayce flipped the switch on the desk lamp, the soft yellow glow spilling over the papers.

Then something caught his eye—something out of place.

In the far corner of the lab, on the old couch, a dark figure lay motionless. He squinted, trying to adjust to the dim light.

There, curled up, Viktor was sleeping.

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t noticed him earlier. Viktor was dressed in the same clothes from the gala, the tie crooked, hanging loosely from his collar.

Jayce stood still for a moment, watching him. He hesitated before walking over. The lab was cold, the chill of late autumn creeping through the windows. He grabbed the folded blanket and draped it over Viktor’s sleeping form. The soft rustle of fabric was the only sound in the room. Viktor didn’t stir.

Jayce's gaze lingered on him for a few more seconds, then he sighed and walked back to his desk. He tried to focus on his work, but his thoughts kept drifting back to Viktor, to the oddness of the whole situation. Viktor had never slept this much before. What was happening to him? And why hadn't he gone home?

He managed to get some work done, but after a couple of hours, he found that concentrating was becoming increasingly difficult. His eyelids were growing heavy, and his thoughts kept returning to Viktor. It felt wrong to leave him here, sleeping on the couch, as though something wasn’t right. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He had to stay.

He slid the chair closer to the couch, the old wooden legs scraping against the floor. It wasn’t ideal, but it would have to do. He stretched out, propping his feet on the coffee table, his eyes closing almost immediately, the exhaustion from the night overtaking him.

—

He woke up to the sharp light of morning creeping through the lab’s thin curtains, the sun blinding him for a moment. He groaned, stretching his arms above his head, trying to remember where he was. His body ached from the awkward position, but when his gaze fell on Viktor, still sleeping on the couch, his chest lightened.

Jayce smiled faintly, then glanced at the clock.

It was already 10 a.m.

Viktor usually started work early, much earlier than him. This wasn't like him.

Jayce frowned but didn’t think too much about it at first. He stretched again and sleepily rubbed his eyes. They had come back from the party pretty late, so maybe Viktor was just tired.

He got up from his makeshift bed, moving to the bathroom to wash up. A few minutes later, he returned, already changed into his lab coat, the usual routine grounding him, the quiet hum of the lab filling the space around him.

Viktor was still asleep.

Jayce went to the coffee machine, making his usual cup of black coffee. The sound of the machine whirring and the rich aroma should have woken Viktor by now. Yet, he lay there, utterly still.

"Come on, Viktor," Jayce muttered, trying to be louder than usual as he moved around the lab. He didn’t want to disturb him too much, but he was starting to feel genuinely uneasy.

Still, there was no movement. Viktor didn’t stir.

He set the coffee cup down on the counter and walked over to the couch, crouching beside Viktor. At first, he gently shook him, his hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Hey, Viktor. Come on, it’s morning,” he said quietly, but Viktor didn’t respond.

Jayce’s heart skipped a beat. He hesitated for a moment, checking leaned forward, checking to make sure Viktor was breathing.

The sight of Viktor’s chest rising and falling with slow, steady breaths sent a wave of relief flooding through Jayce. He hadn’t realized he’d been holding his breath until now.

But the fear lingered, his mind racing. What was happening to Viktor? Why couldn’t he wake up?

Jayce shook him again, this time harder. “Viktor! Come on, wake up!”

There was no response.

What was going on? Why was Viktor so deeply asleep?

He had to wake him. Something wasn’t right.

Chapter Text

Viktor

Viktor poured hot water into the teapot, the steam curling in delicate swirls before fading into the warm air of the room. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, its orange glow stretching across the walls of the cozy living room. The air smelled faintly of woodsmoke and tea leaves, blending into a scent so soothing that Viktor barely noticed how quiet the house was.

He moved the teapot to the table, setting out a single porcelain cup, though he couldn’t quite recall where the teapot or the cup had come from. They seemed as though they’d always been here, just like the chair by the fire and the stack of books with their worn, gilded spines.

Taking a slow sip of the tea, Viktor let his gaze wander across the room. It was lovely—too lovely to waste just sitting. For the first time, he felt compelled to explore, his curiosity nudging him from the comfort of the hearth.

He wandered through the open door into a small dining area, where the wooden table was polished to a gleam. A few chairs sat neatly arranged, as though waiting for occupants who would never come. Beyond that was a kitchen lined with jars of spices and herbs, their labels neatly written in a script he didn’t recognize.

The house seemed larger than it had any right to be. Every turn revealed another room, each furnished in ways that felt both lived-in and untouched. A bedroom with a neatly made bed and a window frosted over with intricate patterns of ice. A study with shelves crammed full of books, their spines darkened by age.

Finally, Viktor found himself standing in a narrow hallway. This part of the house felt different—not cold, exactly, but quieter. The rugs muffled his footsteps, and the air carried a faint, metallic tang. At the far end of the hall was a door, unlike the others. Its surface was rough, unfinished, as though someone had built it in haste.

Viktor reached for the knob, his fingers brushing against the cool metal. It didn’t turn. He frowned, gripping it more firmly, but the door didn’t budge. Locked. He pressed his ear to the wood, listening, though for what, he wasn’t sure.

“You won’t find anything behind there,” came a voice, smooth and low.

Viktor spun around, his heart leaping to his throat. Standing at the other end of the hallway was Jayce, leaning casually against the wall. He was dressed like he had just stepped out of a magazine—sharp black slacks, a fitted shirt with the top buttons undone, and a smirk that was far too confident.

“What are you doing here?” Viktor asked, trying to steady his breath.

Jayce didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he pushed off the wall and strolled toward Viktor, his boots silent against the rug. There was something in his gaze that made Viktor’s pulse quicken, though whether it was nerves or something else, he couldn’t tell.

“This house is full of far more interesting things,” Jayce said, his voice dropping into a teasing lilt. He stopped just short of Viktor, his presence warm and overpowering. “Why waste your time with locked doors?”

Viktor blinked, momentarily disarmed by the intensity of Jayce’s gaze. “I was just—”

“Curious?” Jayce interrupted, a hint of amusement in his tone. “There are better ways to satisfy that.”

Before Viktor could respond, Jayce’s hand slid to his waist, his touch light but deliberate. “Come on,” he murmured, his voice low and inviting. “I’ll show you something worth your attention.”

Viktor felt a flush rise to his cheeks as Jayce’s hand lingered, guiding him back down the hallway. It wasn’t the first time Jayce had been this... close, but something about this felt different. More certain. More intentional.

They emerged into the living room, where the fire had burned lower, the embers glowing faintly. Jayce stopped by the armchair, turning to face Viktor, his smirk softening into something more intimate.

“You’ve been so tense lately,” he said, his thumb brushing against Viktor’s side. “Why don’t you let me help with that?”

Viktor’s breath caught, and for a moment, all thoughts of the locked door vanished.

Viktor didn’t resist when Jayce’s hands moved to his shoulders, guiding him down to the rug in front of the dying fire. The warmth of the embers brushed against his skin as he sank into the soft fabric, the crackling of the wood a rhythmic counterpoint to the quiet rush of his own breath.

Jayce followed, leaning over him, his weight pressing Viktor against the floor in a way that felt both grounding and overwhelming. His hands were everywhere: skimming over Viktor’s chest, tracing the line of his jaw, tangling briefly in his hair. There was a confidence, an intensity in his movements that sent shivers racing down Viktor’s spine.

“You’re beautiful like this,” Jayce murmured, his lips so close that Viktor felt the words more than heard them.

Viktor’s pulse pounded in his ears. He couldn’t think—didn’t want to think. Jayce’s hand slid down his side, his touch igniting something raw and electric. But just as Viktor began to lose himself in the moment, something caught his eye.

Jayce’s face was cast in shadow, but as the firelight flickered, a strange, crimson glint flashed in his eyes. It was so brief Viktor almost convinced himself he’d imagined it—until he saw it again.

A chill settled over him, stark against the heat of the moment. He froze, his gaze locked on Jayce’s eyes. Were they always this... sharp? The irises burned with an intensity that didn’t seem human.

Viktor’s breath hitched as he glanced down. Jayce’s lips curved into a smirk, but something about the shape of his teeth—longer, sharper—made Viktor’s stomach twist.

“This doesn’t feel right,” Viktor said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Jayce’s hand stilled, and for a moment, the room fell silent except for the crackle of the fire. Then, Jayce leaned in closer, his voice low and smooth. “What doesn’t feel right, Viktor? You’re safe here. With me.”

But Viktor wasn’t so sure. The warmth of the fire now felt oppressive, the shadows of the room too deep, too alive.

And then it hit him. The rug beneath him—the intricate pattern of it—shifted ever so slightly, the lines twisting and bending in ways they shouldn’t. He blinked, staring harder, and the realization settled over him like a cold wind.

“This is a dream,” he said.

Jayce stilled, his expression unreadable for the briefest moment before his smirk returned, sharper than ever. “Does it matter?”

Viktor’s chest tightened. “Yes,” he said firmly, pushing against Jayce’s shoulders. “It does.”

Jayce didn’t move at first, his weight unyielding, but Viktor shoved harder. The moment shattered like glass, and he bolted upright—

—only to find himself back in the laboratory.

He was sitting in his usual chair, the desk lamp casting its harsh light across a clutter of notes and blueprints. The familiar hum of the machinery filled the room, grounding him for a moment. But when he turned to look out the window, his breath caught.

Snow stretched endlessly, a pristine, glistening white expanse under a pale sun. This wasn’t Piltover.

Viktor rose to his feet, his legs unsteady, and glanced around. The lab seemed... wrong. One of the walls had shifted into the wooden paneling of the cabin, and the rug beneath his chair was the same one he had just been lying on in front of the fire.

“No,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

The door creaked open behind him. Viktor spun around, and there was Jayce again, standing in the doorway with that same knowing smirk.

“Leaving so soon?” he asked, clearly amused.

Viktor’s stomach churned. He backed away, gripping the edge of the desk as his mind raced. Wake up. This has to end.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to focus on the sensation of his own body—the chill on his skin, the pressure of the desk beneath his fingers. He breathed in, out, willing himself to rise above the dream.

When he opened his eyes, he was back in the cabin, the fire blazing as though it had never dimmed.

Viktor’s knees buckled, and he clutched his head. “No... this isn’t real. This isn’t real!”

But the warmth of the fire said otherwise, as did the familiar presence behind him.

“Still trying to run?” Jayce’s voice was a purr, and Viktor felt a hand slide over his shoulder.

Viktor spun to face him, panic giving way to desperation. “Let me go!”

Jayce’s grin widened, his crimson eyes gleaming in the firelight. “Why would I do that?”

The fire flared, casting the room into a dancing chaos of shadows and light. Viktor stumbled back, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to find an escape. But the door behind him was gone.

There was no way out.

Jayce

Jayce paced the laboratory, his thoughts racing as worry twisted in his gut. Viktor remained motionless, still sleeping, but there was something unnervingly wrong about the stillness. I need to get a doctor, Jayce thought, his mind settling on the idea with growing certainty. He couldn’t wait any longer. He began pulling on his cloak, trying to fasten the buttons with shaking hands when something froze him in place.

A slight disturbance. Almost imperceptible. It was as if the air around Viktor was shimmering, rippling with a faint, undetectable energy. Jayce paused, his gaze narrowing. It wasn’t much—barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. As he stepped closer, the sensation seemed to fade, like a mirage vanishing as soon as you tried to touch it. It reminded him of the disturbances he’d seen in his hextech experiments. This… Jayce’s pulse quickened. This is hextech.

Jayce’s mind was spinning. The need to call a doctor faded as he pieced things together. He moved quickly to Viktor’s desk, his hands almost frantic as he started rifling through his papers. His heart raced. There had to be something here that explained the strange energy he’d just sensed. He scanned the notes, his focus narrowing with every paper he flipped through. Viktor had been working on something, and Jayce had to find out what it was—now.

Jayce’s eyes flicked over the page, his heart sinking as he processed the words. The list of Hextech components seemed innocent at first glance, but something about it made his stomach tighten. A few items were marked with symbols he didn’t recognize, but the more troubling detail was the way they were paired with personal health measurements—heart rate, brainwave patterns, and other biometric data. Viktor had been trying to use the tech to affect his own biology. He had been experimenting on himself.

Jayce swallowed, a knot forming in his chest. He had always known Viktor pushed boundaries, but this? This was something else.

His fingers shook slightly as he turned to the next page, his mind racing with possibilities.

Jayce’s eyes raced over the papers, the diagrams and equations blurring together. His hand paused as he came across a hastily written note at the bottom of the last page. The familiar handwriting was shaky, as if written in a moment of frustration.

"Testing stabilization... The process seems to be working, but the energy flow is still unstable. I need to make adjustments to the core—something’s not quite right yet. I’ll have to try again tomorrow."

Energy flow? Jayce didn’t understand exactly what Viktor had been working on, but it sounded dangerous. Why was he keeping it a secret? And what exactly was he trying to stabilize? Whatever it was, it seemed to have affected him.

Jayce stood up abruptly, his mind now fully focused. Viktor wasn’t just sleeping. He had to fix this before it got worse.

He scanned the lab quickly, his mind racing through possible solutions. His gaze fell on an old device tucked in the corner — a machine once used for treating psychological disorders, designed to create a connection between the mind of a sleeping patient and the outside world, offering a controlled intervention in their dreams. It wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, and certainly not made for something like this. But it was all he had.

He could feel the weight of urgency in the air as he moved toward the machine. Time was running out, and he had no time to make adjustments or build anything new. He had to work with what was available. His hands moved swiftly, connecting wires and adjusting the settings. He needed to establish a direct link to Viktor’s mind, to understand what was happening inside that dream.

Jayce turned his gaze to Viktor, still motionless on the couch, his head tilted slightly to one side, and knelt beside him, a sudden wave of protectiveness washing over him.

He carefully untangled the electrode wires and leaned in closer. His fingers brushed Viktor's temple as he pushed back the stray locks of hair, exposing the pale skin beneath. It was strangely intimate — a brief, tender gesture amidst the chaos. Jayce froze for a moment, his breath catching as he looked at Viktor's slightly trembling black lashes, his chest barely moving with each breath.

He placed the first electrode gently against Viktor’s temple, the cool metal adhering to the skin. His fingers lingered, ensuring it was secure before moving to the other side. As he repeated the process, the machine’s hum shifted slightly, the energy coursing through it adjusting to the new connection.

Sliding his hand over the lever that would activate the connection, he hesitated only for a heartbeat before pulling it down. The machine roared softly to life, and the monitor beside it flickered, displaying erratic waves that mirrored Viktor’s brain activity.

Jayce scanned the data with growing unease. The brainwave patterns on the readout weren’t just irregular—they were distorted, almost like something was pushing back against the device. It was unlike anything he’d seen before.

The dream realm, the place where Viktor’s mind was trapped, wasn’t just chaotic. It was... controlled. Jayce’s eyes narrowed, a cold realization creeping in. The pattern wasn’t random. It was purposeful, calculated, and there was something in the dream, something that had taken hold of Viktor and was holding him there. A presence. He didn’t need an interface to see it now. He could feel it, pushing against the edges of Viktor’s mind, trying to keep him locked in.

This wasn’t just a bad dream. There was a force—an entity—that had Viktor in its grasp. It wasn’t a trick of the mind. It was real, and it was feeding off of him. Jayce’s stomach clenched at the thought. It was using Viktor’s energy, draining him, twisting the dream into something far darker than he could have imagined.

The data from the machine shifted again, and Jayce saw the faintest distortion in the readings—like a dark shadow moving through the static of Viktor’s mind. It was aware of the intrusion. It knew Jayce was there. He couldn’t help but feel a growing dread. The connection wasn’t just volatile, it was fighting him.

Jayce pulled himself together. There was no turning back now. He didn’t know what this entity was or how it had gotten into Viktor’s mind, but he knew it was the key to Viktor’s deteriorating condition. And if he didn’t stop it, the consequences would be far worse than he could imagine.

The device could give him access to the dream, but it couldn’t force the entity out. That was up to Viktor and him. Jayce’s hands shook as he adjusted the settings again, pushing the limits of the machine to force a deeper connection. He had to get closer. He had to understand what was holding Viktor there. And most importantly, he had to find a way to break the hold before it was too late.

Chapter Text

Viktor

Viktor was running.

The world around him was tearing itself apart.

The corridor stretched endlessly ahead, its walls flickering between familiar settings—a quiet corner of the lab, the cold wooden walls of the cabin, and dimly lit hallways from places he didn’t even recognize. Doors hung ajar, leading to nowhere or collapsing into themselves. The floor beneath his feet cracked and shifted, every step unsteady as if the ground might disappear at any moment.

Viktor’s breath came in ragged bursts, his heart hammering in his chest. Every door he passed felt wrong, the spaces beyond twisting into nightmares. The lab tables he glimpsed were piled with broken instruments and red-streaked blueprints. The cabin’s fireplace flared with green flames, casting monstrous shadows. Whispers chased him, growing louder and louder.

He stumbled into another room and froze.

It was him. Again.

Jayce stood in the center, bathed in an unnatural light that shifted and pulsed. At first glance, he looked just like the man Viktor had spent countless hours working beside, but the longer Viktor stared, the more wrongness seeped through. His smile was too sharp, his posture too predatory, and his eyes—God, his eyes—flickered crimson in the dim light, like burning coals.

“Viktor,” the figure said softly, his voice like honey, warm and dangerous. “You’ve been running from me. Why?”

Viktor stepped back, his legs trembling. “You’re not real.”

“Oh, I’m as real as you need me to be,” the double replied, tilting his head as he stepped forward. The floor seemed to ripple with each movement. “I’m the only one who’s ever been real to you.”

Viktor turned to run, but the door he had come through was gone. The walls were closing in, twisting and warping. He stumbled, and the false Jayce was there, impossibly fast, his hand gripping Viktor’s arm.

“You don’t need to run,” the creature said, his voice dipping into something darker, something that reverberated through Viktor’s very bones. “I’m here for you. No one else will be.”

Viktor yanked his arm free, his breath hitching. “Stop. Stop pretending to be him.”

“Pretending?” The double laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. “Why would I pretend? I’m the only one who truly knows you. Your thoughts. Your fears. Your pathetic little hopes.” His grin widened, revealing teeth that were too sharp, too wrong. “You think he’ll ever see you the way I do? He’ll never love you. Not the real you.”

Viktor froze, his chest tightening.

“He sees you as a tool. A partner. Maybe a friend. But love?” The double sneered, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “That’s for people who matter. People who aren’t broken. People who aren’t you.”

“Stop it,” Viktor whispered, his voice shaking.

“You can’t stop it,” the creature hissed, his voice coiling around Viktor like a vice. “You called me here, Viktor. You wanted me because I’m the only one who can love you the way you crave. The only one who’ll never leave. You don’t need him—you need me.”

The room seemed to twist further, the air heavy and suffocating. The walls dripped like melting wax, and the floor felt as though it might crumble beneath Viktor’s feet.

And yet, the creature’s words cut deeper than the dream’s horrors. They sliced through every defense Viktor had built, digging into fears he’d never dared to voice.

“You’re tired, aren’t you?” the double continued, his voice softening into something almost gentle. “Tired of fighting. Tired of trying to prove you’re worth anything. You don’t have to anymore. Just let go. Stay here, with me. I’ll take care of you. I’ll make the pain stop.”

Viktor’s knees buckled, and he collapsed onto the shifting floor. His body felt heavy, as though the air itself was pressing him down. The creature knelt beside him, its hand brushing against Viktor’s cheek, unnaturally warm and wrong.

Viktor closed his eyes, tears burning behind his lids. Maybe it would be easier to stop fighting. Maybe the double was right.

Then, faint and distant, he heard a voice.

“Viktor.”

He froze, his heart catching. It was Jayce—his Jayce, the real one. The sound didn’t belong to this place, didn’t carry the cruel edge of the twisted doppelgänger.

“Viktor, listen to me.” The voice cut through the chaos again, closer now but muffled. “I know you can hear me. Focus. I need you to stay calm.”

Jayce

Jayce stared at the readings on the machine, his heart racing as he watched the flickering fluctuations in the data. He could feel the tension in the air, thick with the urgency of the situation.

"Viktor, please," he muttered under his breath, his fingers hovering over the controls. He repeated his name again, watching the device for any sign that he was connecting.

Then, a faint fluctuation—barely noticeable, but it was there. Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. He leaned forward, watching closely. The machine responded, a brief spike in the readings.

He’s hearing me.

“Viktor, listen to me. I know you can hear me. Focus. I need you to stay calm.”

Another pause that felt like an eternity. Then, the readings shifted again, but this time they grew less chaotic, as though finding some semblance of order. Jayce held his breath, watching as the data began to stabilize.

"Good. You’re doing great. Viktor, I’m here. I need you to focus. Focus on my voice."

A faint, almost imperceptible spike appeared on the screen. Jayce’s face lit up. "There," he muttered, his fingers tightening on the edge of the console. "That’s something."

The next fluctuation was stronger, the pattern more distinct. Jayce’s eyes widened as he adjusted the settings, amplifying the signal.

For a moment, there was silence—tense and crushing—but then the machine hissed, and a voice crackled through the speaker, faint and distorted. "Jayce..."

The sound of Viktor’s voice, weak but unmistakable, sent a surge of relief through Jayce’s chest. "Viktor! I hear you! You’re doing great. Stay with me. Tell me what’s happening."

There was another pause, and then the static cleared slightly, Viktor’s voice breaking through again. "It’s hard to stay... focused."

"You’re doing amazing," said Jayce quickly. "Just take it slow. Tell me what you see. Where are you right now?"

Viktor didn’t respond immediately. The quiet hum of the machine was the only sound as Viktor’s mind continued to work through the fragments of the dream.

Viktor

Viktor forced his eyes open, the images before him still swirling, but his mind was clearer now. He could see the creature, still there, still mocking him, but it felt less solid. The fragments of broken realities—the cabin, the lab—were beginning to crumble around him, like sand slipping through his fingers.

"I see... pieces of everything. Rooms that keep changing… It’s all falling apart. And you’re here, Jayce.”

Wrong.

“You’re not—" He swallowed hard, forcing the words past the lump in his throat. "You’re not that thing. You’re not... him."

The creature snarled, its eyes flashing dangerously. "You think he can save you? You’re mine, Viktor. I know you better than anyone. I know everything about you. And you can’t even control your own mind. "

Viktor hesitated, his breath shallow as he tried to focus on the conversation. “It’s standing there,” he said, his voice strained. “And it’s lying to me. But overall… just standing, grinning... like it’s waiting for something.”

Jayce’s voice was calm. “And what is it doing? Why didn’t it attack you?”

“I don’t know... it could have by now. It’s been toying with me, like it enjoys the chase. But when I fight back, it... lets go. Just lets me go. I don’t get it.”

“If it wanted you dead, it would have done it already. I think it’s got something else in mind. Maybe it doesn’t have as much control as it seems. Could it be... feeding off you? Using you, not just as a prisoner, but as... something more?”

Viktor shuddered at the thought, but nodded. “It’s like... it’s attached to me somehow. It touches me, controls me, but when I break free, it backs off. It never holds me. Just... lets me slip away.”

Viktor’s thoughts raced. The more he focused, the more something nagged at him, a memory just out of reach. Suddenly, it hit him, a cold shock of realization.

“The door,” he muttered, his voice trembling. “The door in the corridor... I... I forgot about it. How could I forget about it?”

Jayce’s voice cut through the haze in Viktor’s mind. “What door? What are you talking about?”

Viktor blinked, confusion clouding his thoughts. “There was... there was a door, a door I wasn’t supposed to go through. The... the thing, it didn’t want me near it. I remember now. It was trying to stop me from going there.”

He turned to look at the figure, the one that had been standing there, watching him. But it was gone. The creature... the thing... it was no longer there.

“Where did he go?” Viktor muttered, his heart pounding. “Doesn’t matter. I need to find that room… But I don’t know where to go."

Jayce

As Jayce adjusted the settings, his eyes caught a flicker on the screen. Then, through the static of the speakers, he heard Viktor’s voice.

"I need to find that room…" Viktor’s voice came through, shaky but determined. "But I don’t know where to go."

Jayce’s hand froze on the controls as he processed Viktor’s words.

“Viktor. Listen to me: this is a dream. You know it’s a dream, right?”

There was a brief pause before Viktor’s voice responded. "I... think so. But... how do I control it? I can’t—"

“You know it’s not real. That means you can control it. You can take control.”

If this was a dream, then Viktor had the ability to reshape it. If Viktor understood that, then he could manipulate the nightmare, push back against whatever force was trying to hold him captive.

"Viktor, you need to focus. You’ve got control over this. It’s all in your mind. Sometimes we are able to control things in our dreams, right? When we know that it’s a dream. This is no different."

Just static and silence.

Then Viktor’s brain activity had leveled out, a sign of focus, of control.

“I think... I think the only way out of this is to go back,” said Viktor finally. “I’ve seen it before. The way the cabin was... before it all broke apart.”

“Alright,” Jayce said, trying to steady his own breath. “Keep focusing. Describe what you see, Viktor. The more you focus, the clearer it will get.”

There was a long pause, then Viktor’s voice broke through the static again, but now, it was full of purpose.

“The cabin’s still shifting. I can almost see it, the corridor… I know where it is now. I’m sure this is where it begins. This is where I need to go.”

Jayce's eyes scanned the data, and for the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to relax a little. Viktor had found a solution. He managed to focus, his mind cleared, and now, step by step, he was reclaiming control of the situation.

“Keep going,” Jayce urged, a small smile creeping onto his face. “You’ve got this.”

Viktor’s voice came again, softer this time, almost distant.

“Jayce... I won’t be able to respond for a while. To do this... I need to concentrate. The cabin—everything around me is breaking apart, but I need to focus on bringing it back to the way it was. If I do that... I’ll find the door again. And when I do, I can stop it.”

Jayce nodded, though Viktor couldn’t see him. “I’m with you. Just stay focused, and I’ll be here when you’re ready to talk again.”

Viktor fell silent. Jayce watched the data with bated breath. All he had to do was wait, and hope Viktor’s determination could hold everything together.

Chapter Text

Viktor

Viktor closed his eyes, inhaling deeply as he forced himself to concentrate. He needed to remember every detail of the room where he had woken up in the armchair. The texture of the fabric, the muted light filtering through the window, the faint smell of old paper from the book he’d held—it had to be exact.

When he opened his eyes again, he was back in the armchair. His crimson scarf lay stark against the muted gray of his sweater, its vibrance almost too sharp in the dimly lit room. He rose slowly, his eyes scanning the familiar yet altered space.

The fire in the hearth was out, leaving the room cold and shadowed, the comforting warmth from before a distant memory. Outside the window, a blizzard raged, obscuring everything with a violent wall of white. The storm was unrelenting, making it impossible to discern anything beyond. The cozy atmosphere of the cabin had vanished, replaced by a haunting silence.

Perhaps it was better this way. A reminder of where he truly was and the dangers waiting for him.

Viktor repeated the truth to himself like a mantra: This is a dream. Just a dream. He couldn’t afford to forget.

Steeling himself, he turned toward the corridor. The narrow hallway stretched out before him, its dim walls looming. At the far end, directly in front of the door he needed, stood the doppelgänger of Jayce. The creature had been waiting for him.

The false Jayce tilted his head, smiling.

“You don’t seem to understand the rules of our little game,” the doppelgänger said, his voice like velvet hiding a blade. “Let me explain. I like you, Viktor. I’ve given you so much, and yet, you don’t seem to appreciate it.”

Viktor glared at him. “Get out of my way,” he spat, taking a step forward.

The creature chuckled, shaking his head as though disappointed. “Oh, Viktor. I can see you’re not listening.” His expression darkened, his grin turning cruel. “When you displease me, I take things away. Things I’ve been kind enough to give you. For instance—this.”

Pain shot through Viktor’s leg, sudden and excruciating. He gasped, stumbling as his knee buckled beneath him. He had almost forgotten about his injury in this dreamscape, the freedom it had given him to move unhindered. But now, his knee was failing him, refusing to hold his weight. He collapsed to the floor, clawing at the walls for support.

The absence of his truest companion—his cane—suddenly became glaringly apparent.

The doppelgänger loomed closer, his voice honeyed with false sympathy. “I know it hurts, Viktor. I don’t want to cause you pain. But consider this a lesson. A disciplinary measure.” He crouched slightly, leaning closer to meet Viktor’s defiant gaze. “Now, let’s go back to the room, shall we? Return to your comfort, and I’ll make it all better. Your leg will be fine again, I promise.”

“I don’t care,” Viktor hissed, his teeth clenched against the pain. He forced himself to his feet, his hand gripping the wall for balance. One halting step after another, he began to move down the hallway, his body screaming in protest.

As Viktor stumbled forward, the doppelgänger’s voice became a steady stream of venom, each word a calculated blow to his resolve.

“You’re wasting your energy, you know. Fighting for a reality that doesn’t even want you. Why struggle to return to a world where you’re nothing but a broken man?”

Viktor’s steps wavered, but he pushed forward. The false Jayce’s voice became more insistent.

“You belong here, Viktor. With me. I see you—every part of you—and I accept it all. Out there, you’re a liability. A burden. But here? Here, you’re perfect. And you’re mine.”

Viktor didn’t respond, refusing to grant the words power. He focused on each agonizing step, his hand gripping the wall tightly as he advanced toward the door. The doppelgänger followed, his voice relentless.

“You’re not going to make it. Even if you get through that door, what then? What’s waiting for you? More pain? More disappointment?”

Viktor staggered forward, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he leaned against the wall for support. The door loomed ahead, its iron frame dark and foreboding. His knee throbbed, and his body ached with the effort of staying upright, but he refused to stop now. He was too close.

He reached the door and rested his hand against the cold metal, his thoughts racing. The last time he had stood here, it was locked. The memory flickered vividly in his mind: the immovable barrier, the curiosity, the frustration. But this time, he had something he didn’t before—clarity.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe evenly, and recalled Jayce’s voice: “You’ve got control over this. It’s all in your mind.”

All the keys from this place belong to him.

A key. If he could reshape this cabin into its original form, surely he could create a key. He focused intently, picturing the object in his mind. It would be small but sturdy, with intricate notches that fit the lock perfectly. He imagined its weight in his palm, the cool metal pressing into his skin.

And then, he felt it. A sudden heaviness in his hand, smooth and reassuring. Viktor’s eyes flew open, and there it was—a gleaming iron key resting in his palm.

“Impressive,” came a voice from behind him. Viktor turned slightly, his grip tightening on the key as he saw the double leaning casually against the wall. The double’s tone was almost regretful as it continued, “I really didn’t want it to come to this, but it seems you need a proper lesson.”

Before Viktor could react, the crimson scarf around his neck suddenly tightened. He gasped as it constricted, the soft fabric transforming into a vice. His hands shot to his throat, clawing at the scarf, but it only grew tighter.

Panic surged through him as his vision blurred. He staggered and fell against the doorframe. The double watched with unsettling calm, arms folded, as if studying a particularly interesting experiment.

Viktor’s thoughts spiraled. This was it. Of all the ways to go, strangled by a scarf in a dream had to be the most ridiculous.

A dream.

The realization hit him like a jolt of electricity. He wasn’t really suffocating. His body in the real world was breathing just fine. And if this was his mind, then he controlled it—not the scarf, not the double, not anyone else.

He stopped struggling and instead focused inward, pushing back the panic and regaining his composure. This is my world. I make the rules here.

The scarf hesitated, loosening ever so slightly. Viktor closed his eyes, concentrating harder. He imagined the scarf as nothing more than fabric, limp and harmless. Slowly, he felt it release its grip entirely, sliding from his neck and falling to the floor. When he opened his eyes, it was just a scrap of crimson cloth lying lifelessly at his feet.

He didn’t waste a second. Viktor bent down, picked up the key he had dropped in the struggle, and jammed it into the lock. With a satisfying click, the door creaked open.

The air beyond was heavy and thick, almost unbreathable. Viktor stepped inside, squinting in the dim light, and froze at what he saw.

At the center of the room was no body, no tangible form pretending to be Jayce. Instead, a mass of twisting, writhing shapes hovered above the floor. It was indescribable—a blend of liquid and shadow, constantly shifting, with no defined edges. It glowed faintly, pulsating as though alive, but it was impossible to pin down its exact nature.

Behind him, the double screamed, a sound that could not have come from human lungs. It was a raw, guttural shriek, jagged and distorted, like metal grinding against bone. The walls of the dreamworld seemed to shudder with its intensity. Viktor flinched but didn’t turn back.

He closed his eyes, drawing in a shaky breath. His body was weak, but his mind—his mind was sharp as ever. If he had the power to shape this world, then he had the power to end this nightmare. He imagined fire, bright and consuming, not just to burn but to obliterate, to erase this parasite from existence.

The ember appeared in his palm when he opened his eyes, small but alive, its glow reflected in the shattered remains of the dream. Viktor tightened his grip around it, willing it to grow. He poured his focus, his anger, and his determination into it. The ember roared to life, a searing flame that twisted up his arm in frenzied arcs, consuming the air itself. It didn’t burn him—it obeyed him. But there was no control, only raw, untamed power.

The entity twitched and recoiled, emitting a high-pitched, grating sound that scraped against his senses. The sound was deafening, but Viktor didn’t flinch. The flame in his hand erupted outward, a tidal wave of fire that engulfed the creature in an instant. Its twisted body unraveled, disintegrating into a wisp of ash.

But the flames did not stop. They tore through the walls of the hovel, obliterating the fragile structure as though it had never existed. The snow beneath Viktor’s feet evaporated in a hiss of steam, and the ground cracked and blistered, glowing red-hot. He staggered as the world itself began to dissolve—trees disintegrated into blackened skeletons, the sky fractured into molten streaks of light, and the horizon crumbled into an abyss.

And then—silence. A void. Everything was gone, consumed by the blaze. The dream had been reduced to nothing, leaving Viktor suspended in an empty, infinite darkness.

This is it, he thought, a strange calm settling over him. Perhaps this was the end, but at least he had done everything in his power. Thanks to Jayce and his support, he could face the unknown not with helpless panic but as someone who had fought until the very last moment.

Viktor closed his eyes and let himself fall, his mind finally quiet.

Jayce

Jayce sat hunched over the console, his eyes glued to the fluctuating data. He anxiously tracked every spike and dip on the graph. Seeing the readings become erratic again, he felt a cold shiver run down his spine.

No... he thought. He’s losing control again.

His hand moved to the controls, ready to intervene, to pull Viktor back from whatever chaos was overwhelming him. But then the spikes steadied, slowly flattening out. Jayce exhaled a shaky breath.

No, wait. He’s got this.

But then, without warning, the signals vanished entirely.

The monitor went dark, and the soft hum of the equipment faded into silence. Jayce froze.

“No,” he whispered. “No, no, no.”

His hands flew to the controls, twisting knobs, punching buttons, trying every combination he could think of. Nothing.

“Come back,” he muttered, leaning closer to the machine, his voice rising in desperation. “Viktor, come on. Don’t do this.”

Still nothing.

Jayce’s breath hitched as the thought he’d been dreading clawed its way to the forefront of his mind: That thing... it won. It got him.

He turned his head slowly toward Viktor, sprawled on the couch, the electrodes still attached to his temples. His face was peaceful—eerily so.

Jayce dropped the device onto the desk, his hands covering his face.

He sat there for a long moment, trapped in his thoughts, before a faint hiss from the machine made him snap his head up.

He froze, listening. Then he heard it—a soft rustling.

Jayce turned sharply to the couch just as Viktor shifted, his eyelids fluttering open. He blinked groggily, his fingers brushing against the electrodes still stuck to his skin. He frowned, tugging them off before his gaze swept the room.

When their eyes met, Viktor’s expression was wary, uncertain.

“Is this real?”

Jayce opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He nodded instead, his lips trembling as a mix of relief and disbelief washed over him.

Viktor frowned slightly, glancing around the room. “I remember destroying it,” he said slowly, his tone cautious. “But... what if this is another trick? Another dream?”

Jayce didn’t let Viktor continue. Every emotion—fear, joy, anger, guilt—hit him like a wave, overwhelming and unstoppable. He dropped to his knees beside the couch.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Viktor and buried his face against his chest. He held him tightly, almost desperately, his shoulders trembling as tears suddenly spilled down his cheeks.

Viktor froze at first, clearly caught off guard. His body tensed, but Jayce didn’t let go, clutching him as if his life depended on it. Gradually, Viktor’s muscles relaxed. He lifted one hand and gently placed it on Jayce’s back. Slowly, his other hand moved to Jayce’s hair, threading his fingers through the soft strands.

“Shh, shh. I’m here. It’s over.”

Jayce didn’t reply at first. He only held on tighter, his tears dampening Viktor’s sweater as he let out a shaky breath. His breath was uneven, his voice muffled as he began to speak, the words spilling out of him in a torrent.

“I found your notes. I read them, Viktor. You—" He paused, his voice trembling. “You were experimenting on yourself. On yourself, Viktor! Do you even realize how reckless that was? What were you thinking? Why didn’t you tell me?”

Viktor’s fingers stilled in Jayce’s hair as he listened. His other hand shifted slightly on Jayce’s back, but he said nothing, letting him continue.

“This wasn’t just any experiment,” Jayce pressed, his voice rising slightly. “This was... completely uncharted territory! You gave that thing access to your mind, your memories, your thoughts—your everything! Do you have any idea how close you came to—” His voice broke, and he tightened his hold.

Viktor’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath him, his tone calm and measured when he finally spoke.

“Oh,” he said thoughtfully, “you think this is connected to hextech? That’s… interesting. I hadn’t considered that. I’ll need to research it further. I’ve never come across a being like that before.”

Slowly, Jayce lifted his head, his tear-streaked face full of disbelief. He stared down at Viktor, who met his gaze with quiet curiosity, as though this were a fascinating puzzle to solve and not a near-death experience.

“You are unbelievable,” Jayce said, his voice incredulous. His eyes searched Viktor’s face for any sign that he might be joking, but, of course, there was none.

Viktor blinked at him, tilting his head slightly. “Why?”

Jayce let out a shaky laugh, sitting back slightly as he swiped a hand down his face. “You nearly got yourself killed,” he muttered, shaking his head. “And the first thing you want to do is study it?”

Viktor shrugged, his lips curling into a faint, amused smile. “I survived. And now I have data.”

Jayce stared at him for a long moment, torn between exasperation and the overwhelming relief that Viktor was alive. Finally, he let out a resigned sigh, shaking his head again. “Unbelievable,” he repeated under his breath.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Viktor’s face. It didn’t make sense, it was definitely not the right time, yet in that moment, he understood one thing with absolute clarity: he wanted to kiss Viktor more than anything in the world. He had nearly lost him, and it shook something inside, bringing feelings to the surface that he hadn’t fully understood until then. But before he could do anything, there was something he needed to clarify.

“Mel kissed me yesterday at the gala,” he said abruptly.

The hand Viktor had been running gently through Jayce’s hair stilled, his other hand freezing mid-motion on his back. His expression went blank, his eyes distant, and when he spoke, his voice was cold, devoid of any emotion.

“How wonderful,” Viktor said flatly. “You and Mel are perfect for each other.”

“For Void’s sake, Viktor, would you just let me finish?” Jayce said, exasperation and nervousness mixing in his tone.

Viktor’s eyes flickered back to him, but his expression remained guarded.

Jayce shifted slightly and nervously ran his hand through his hair. “Look, when she kissed me… all I could think about was you.” He took a shaky breath. “It’s not fair. Not to her, not to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you, Viktor. About how I wanted—” He trailed off, feeling his face flush. "It was wrong. Fantasizing about my best friend when..."

He fell quiet, looking at Viktor warily, who hadn't moved. Jayce swallowed, forcing himself to keep going, even if his voice was quieter now.

“I don’t expect anything from you, Viktor. I know you don’t see me that way. I get it. I’ve always been your… your idiot friend who talks too much and makes things harder than they need to be.” He laughed softly, bitterly. “But I can’t keep pretending that what I feel is just friendship. It’s not. It hasn’t been for a long time. I just… I wanted you to know. Even if it doesn’t change anything.”

Jayce froze, unsure of what to expect—perhaps a quiet rejection, perhaps an awkward apology. But then Viktor leaned closer, his movements deliberate, his gaze locked on Jayce’s as if searching for something.

Jayce barely had time to process it before Viktor's lips brushed against his. It was tentative at first, barely a whisper of a touch, but it was enough to send a shockwave through him. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it had lodged in his throat.

Then Viktor kissed him again, firmer this time, and Jayce melted into it, his hands finding their way to Viktor’s shoulders as he leaned closer. The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, as if Viktor was memorizing him, as if every second mattered. Jayce’s senses blurred; all he could feel was Viktor—his warmth, the careful way he held him, and the overwhelming sense of being wanted.

It was nothing like the kiss with Mel. There was no comparison. This wasn’t a kiss for curiosity or politeness; this was something raw, something real, and Jayce found himself unable to think about anything else.

When they finally broke apart, Viktor stayed close, their foreheads almost touching. He was quiet, his breathing slightly uneven, but there was a softness in his eyes that Jayce had never seen before.

Jayce swallowed hard, trying to find his voice, but words seemed unnecessary now. He searched Viktor’s face, looking for answers he hadn’t dared to hope for. Viktor met his gaze and simply smiled—small, almost imperceptible, but filled with so much meaning.

And Jayce understood.

For once, there was no need to fill the silence. No need for grand declarations or overthinking. What they’d shared spoke louder than anything he could say.

Jayce let himself relax, leaning into Viktor, their fingers brushing as they sat in the quiet. For the first time in weeks, he felt peace—genuine, undeniable peace.

Maybe the future was uncertain. Maybe it would take time to figure out what this meant for them. But for now, Jayce was content to stay here, with Viktor, in this fragile, perfect moment.

The storm outside raged on, but in the cabin, everything was still.