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Excruciating.
It was the first word that clawed its way into Jayce’s fragmented mind as his battered knees hit the freezing stone floor with a sickening crack, the sound reverberating through the empty room. The air smelled of dust and faded dreams, a place untouched by life yet stained with its remnants.
Pain lanced through his body like a bloodthirsty spear, sharp yet grounding, but it wasn’t enough to steady his spinning mind. The Arcane had flung him across timelines again, tearing him from one shattered reality and thrusting him into another like a ravenous beast, gnashing and tearing at the seams of his existence.
The world spun violently, a nauseating blur of colors and shadows until, at last, shapes began to solidify. Jayce stayed frozen on his hands and knees, gasping for breath like a drowning man breaking the surface.
He cradled his pounding head in trembling, calloused hands, his fingers digging into his scalp as if he could claw his way back to sanity, tear out all that happened. Even when the ringing in his ears began to lessen, he didn’t dare to open his eyes.
Make it stop.
He had seen enough.
Let me have him back.
He barely had time to gather himself when the pain finally settled into his weak muscles before the sound of approaching footsteps set his heart hammering once more like a caged bird. Jayce turned sharply, bracing himself for some new horror – another version of Viktor, consumed by the Hexcore, hollowed, mutated into a former version of his partner – his friend. Or worse, he was gone entirely. His mind raced with possibilities, each one worse than the last.
But it wasn’t any of them. Or maybe this was worse than every horror he could imagine. Jayce’s breath caught painfully in his throat.
Viktor was whole. Alive. Looking at him with those same furrowed brows.
He stood in the doorway, illuminated by the soft, golden glow of an old lamp on his hand - like a beacon guiding Jayce. His body was so achingly familiar – gaunt but not frail, his hair disheveled but untouched by sickness. No purple corruption snaked beneath his skin, no telltale flicker of Hexcore energy in his eyes, amber at last. His brace wasn’t morphed to his body in a grotesque way, leaned on his cane. The cane Jayce made after they broke his previous one.
He looked human.
A shuddering gasp escaped Jayce before he could suppress it. His chest heaved as he stared, unblinking, drinking in the sight like a man dying of thirst.
No horrors. Just Viktor. His Viktor.
And then there it was. That voice.
“Jayce?” Viktor’s tone was soft, puzzled, and achingly familiar. He rubbed his sunken eyes, squinted against the dim light, his brow furrowed with concern. “What are you doing here? You look... terrible. No offense, love.”
“Love.”
The word landed like a punch to Jayce’s chest. He staggered to his feet, his legs trembling beneath him as though the ground were conspiring to give way. Words clung stubbornly to the back of his throat like sticky honey, his chest too tight to form coherent sounds.
Too close. Too far.
He reached out instinctively, hand trembling, but stopped short just a few inches shy of touching him. Jayce couldn’t trust it – couldn’t trust this. It was too perfect, too cruel.
“Viktor,” he rasped, his voice raw and frayed, like a rope ready to snap under pressure. “You’re... you’re here.”
Viktor tilted his head, glancing around for a moment before focusing back on Jayce’s dilated eyes. His confusion deepened as he took a cautious step forward. “Where else would I be? We were just in the lab earlier – did something happen?”
Jayce didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat felt like it was closing, every breath a struggle against the torrent of emotions clawing their way to the surface: grief so sharp it cut, relief so overwhelming it left him hollow, guilt so heavy it threatened to crush him.
His knees threatened to buckle again. His trembling hand, the one he had held back, shot forward with a desperation that bordered on reckless. His fingers brushed against Viktor’s arm, and that single point of contact broke something inside him.
The contact grounded him and wrecked him all at once – a seemingly casual connection, so small yet so monumental.
Jayce shook his head, though whether it was an answer to Viktor’s question or an attempt to clear his spinning mind, he couldn’t say. He couldn’t tell Viktor the truth. Couldn’t admit he didn’t belong here, that he wasn’t this Jayce. Not when Viktor was standing before him – alive, whole, untouched by tragedy. Not when he had this chance, selfish as it was.
“I...” His voice cracked, tears threatening to spill as he forced the words out. “I just needed to see you.” It was all he could say. All he could allow himself to say.
Viktor’s expression softened, the sharp lines of worry easing slightly. “Well,” he began, his tone gentler now, though still tinged with curiosity. “You’ve seen me. Now, are you going to tell me what’s wrong, or are you going to keep staring at me like I’ve grown a second head?”
Jayce let out a shaky laugh, though it broke halfway into something closer to a sob. He closed the distance between them in a few unsteady strides, his hands reaching out instinctively with a desperation he couldn’t keep contained anymore.
Viktor stiffened at first when Jayce pulled him into a crushing embrace – unaccustomed to such raw, unguarded displays of emotion – but he didn’t pull away. Slowly, cautiously, his hand rose to rest against Jayce’s back, as if unsure of the gesture but compelled to respond nonetheless.
“Jayce?” Viktor’s voice was quieter now, tinged with ever-growing concern.
“Just... let me,” Jayce whispered, his voice hoarse.
Viktor’s hand stilled for a moment, then resumed its slow, uncertain motion. “You’re trembling,” he said gently, as if his words threatened to unravel Jayce further.
Jayce buried his face against the crook of Viktor’s neck, his breath uneven and shallow, unable to take in enough air to stand his ground against these crushing feelings. He clung to him as though Viktor were the only thing anchoring him, the only thing keeping him from breaking apart entirely.
The warmth, the scent of him – deep wood and ink, so familiar it made Jayce’s chest ache. It was too much and not enough all at once.
“I’m just... I’m so tired, Vik.” The nickname slipped out before Jayce could stop it, and he felt Viktor stiffen again. But then he sighed, his hands moving in slow, soothing circles against Jayce’s back.
“You’re a terrible liar, you know,” Viktor said, his tone dry but not unkind, the familiar sharp edge tempered by an almost imperceptible softness. “But I’ll let it slide. For now.”
What Viktor didn’t realize was that it wasn’t much of a lie at all. Jayce wasn’t hiding deceit. He was hiding his exhaustion – the kind that sank deep into his bones, forged not by mere fatigue, but by the relentless weight of the Arcane, haunting him day and night.
Jayce closed his eyes, letting Viktor’s voice wash over him, grounding him. He memorized every detail in that moment: the press of Viktor’s too-thin frame against his own, the precise cadence of his voice, the faint scent that clung to him like a ghost of the lab they’d spent so many hours in together.
This wasn’t his Viktor – he knew that. He knew it was selfish to pretend otherwise, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not now.
“I’m here,” Viktor whispered, and his voice dipped lower, quieter, as though even he wasn’t entirely sure of the words. “I’m not going anywhere, Jay.”
The sound of his nickname in Viktor’s voice broke something in Jayce all over again. He exhaled shakily, his hands slipping from where they had clenched in Viktor’s shirt to gently cup his face. His forehead pressed against Viktor’s as if to confirm it – to confirm that there was no trace of the Hexcore’s corruption, no shadow of the tragedy that had stolen so much from him.
He clung to those words, repeating them in his head like a prayer. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.
“I missed you,” Jayce said, his voice barely above a whisper, words spilling out unbidden. His hands slipped from Viktor’s face, arms dropping to encircle Viktor again, though this time, his embrace was softer. More reverent. “You don’t know how much I missed you.”
Viktor hesitated for a moment, his confusion clear, but then his arms tightened ever so slightly around Jayce. “You’re acting as though you’ve been gone for years,” Viktor said, attempting levity, though his voice carried a weight of unspoken worry.
He let out a soft sigh, exasperation mingled with quiet warmth as Jayce tightened his grip in response, refusing to let go. “I didn’t know I went anywhere to begin with,” Viktor quipped lightly, though his voice wavered. Jayce’s raw vulnerability – so uncharacteristic, so exposed – unnerved him. He hadn’t seen this side of Jayce before. It frightened him, yes, but it also sparked a strange protectiveness that settled deep in his chest.
Jayce’s laugh came out wet, tangled with a sob he couldn’t bite back.. “You’ve always been stubborn like that.”
Viktor hummed in agreement, his hand absently stroking Jayce’s back in slow, soothing motions. “I could say the same about you.”
They stood there for what felt like an eternity, silence wrapping around them like a fragile cocoon. For Jayce, the moment was a lifeline – stolen, precious, and aching with the weight of everything he dared not say. Every second felt like borrowed time, a cruel countdown ticking away until the Arcane wrenched him into another fractured timeline.
But for now, Viktor was here. Warm. Whole. And that was enough.
Finally, Viktor pulled back just enough to meet Jayce’s eyes, his hands steady on Jayce’s shoulders as if anchoring him. “Come on. You look like you haven’t slept in days. Let’s get you home.”
“Home.”
The word struck like a knife to Jayce’s heart, carving a deep, bittersweet ache. His throat tightened, his breath catching as he nodded mutely. He didn’t correct Viktor. Couldn’t tell him that this was home – this Viktor, this fleeting moment, this timeline he would cling to for as long as the Arcane
allowed.
Jayce let Viktor guide him out of the room, his larger hand resting lightly against the small of his partner’s – his lover’s – back. Each step felt heavier than the last, his chest tightening with the knowledge that this might all slip away at any moment.
The room Viktor led him to wasn’t the cold, impersonal space Jayce had braced himself for. Instead, it was warm, lived-in, filled with subtle traces of familiarity. But something about it was disorienting, as if the details didn’t quite line up. It wasn’t until they passed the familiar hallway with its beige wallpaper and reached the old wooden door at the end that it struck him: this wasn’t just Viktor’s
dorm. It was their dorm.
Jayce froze, staring at the door. They lived together.
His breath hitched painfully in his chest, and he felt Viktor’s curious gaze settle on him. “Well?” Viktor asked, raising a brow. “Are you planning to stand out here all night?”
Jayce forced a smile, a poor imitation of his usual confidence, and followed Viktor inside.
The dorm was almost exactly as he remembered it. The cluttered desk was strewn with blueprints and notes, a faint, familiar scent of coffee and machine oil lingered in the air. But what struck him most was the bed – no longer the narrow single bed Viktor used to occupy alone. Now it was a twin, its ruffled sheets a testament to shared nights and quiet mornings.
The sight hit Jayce like a blow to the chest. It wasn’t just the room. It was the life they could’ve had – the life he’d lost. The ache in his heart, constant and gnawing, sharpened unbearably.
Viktor shrugged off the coat he threw over when looking for Jayce, and set it neatly over the back of a chair before turning to Jayce. “Sit, love,” he said, gesturing toward the bed. “You look like you’re about to collapse.”
There it was again. The word cut through him like the gentlest, cruelest blade.
“Love.”
Jayce obeyed, sinking down onto the mattress. It was firmer than he expected, but the familiar creak it made under his weight sent a pang through him. He ran a hand over the worn blanket, his fingers tracing the fabric.
Viktor stood watching him, his sharp gaze softening with concern. “You’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, are you?”
Jayce shook his head, unable to find Viktor’s eyes. How could he explain that this moment – this Viktor – was something he’d only dreamed of for so long, mourned for so long? That this wasn’t his life to live, but now that it was within his grasp, he’d selfishly hold onto it for as long as he could, no matter the cost?
“I’m fine,” Jayce said finally, the lie cracking as it left his lips. But Viktor didn’t press him, didn’t demand answers. Instead, he simply moved closer, his presence steady and grounding in the chaos of Jayce’s fractured mind.
Viktor sighed, but there was no annoyance in it. His gaze softened as he stepped closer a few inches more, his hand settling lightly on Jayce’s shoulder. The touch was gentle, grounding in a way Jayce hadn’t realized he needed. “At least lie down, Jay. You need rest from… whatever is going on.”
Jayce didn’t argue. He toed off his boots and climbed into the bed, the scent of the blanket stirring something bittersweet in him. It smelled of their favorite tea, faint cologne, and the quiet, unspoken comfort of a shared life. It smelled exactly like the future they could’ve had.
Viktor turned toward the desk, the familiar scratch of paper and ink likely waiting for him, but before he could take a step, Jayce’s hand shot out. His fingers clamped tightly around Viktor’s wrist.
“Don’t,” Jayce rasped, his voice breaking.
Viktor froze, eyes widening slightly as he turned back to look at him. “Jayce?”
“Stay,” Jayce said, his voice desperate and breaking in his throat. He tugged Viktor closer, his grip firm, desperate, as though letting go would mean losing him all over again. “Please. Don’t leave me.”
The rawness in his voice seemed to cut through Viktor’s confusion. For a long moment, Viktor simply stared at him, a flicker of hesitation passing through his gaze. Jayce thought he might pull away, might leave anyway. But then Viktor sighed softly, the weight of it almost tender, and he sat down on
the edge of the bed.
“All right,” Viktor murmured. “I’ll stay.”
Jayce’s chest heaved with relief. He shifted, making room for Viktor on the bed, and Viktor barely hesitated before lying down beside him.
The bed groaned beneath their combined weight, an ancient witness to a moment too tender for words.
The bed was far from cramped, but Jayce clung to Viktor as if there was no space to spare. He turned into him, burying his face against Viktor’s shoulder, his breath shuddering against the warm, solid curve of it. Their bodies slotted together like perfect puzzle pieces, and that made Jayce’s heart only ache more.
Viktor stiffened at first, still baffled at his partner’s clinginess, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his hand moved tentatively to Jayce’s back, resting there with an awkward sort of care that only his Viktor could make feel like the most gentle touch.
“You’re acting strange tonight,” Viktor said quietly, though his voice was free of judgment. “You’ve never been this... demanding.”
Jayce didn’t respond. He couldn’t. If he tried to explain, he’d fall apart completely.
Viktor sighed again, softer this time, and his hand began to move in slow, soothing circles against Jayce’s back. His touch was cautious, unsure, but it carried the same quiet devotion Jayce had missed so much. “It’s all right, love,” Viktor said, his tone steady and sure. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Jayce’s eyes slipped shut, his arms tightening around Viktor as though he could hold the moment in place. He knew it couldn’t last – knew the Arcane would eventually wrench him away, back to shattered timelines and endless loss. But right now, Viktor was here. Whole, human, warm in his arms.
In the fragile silence of the night, as Viktor's steady heartbeat whispered against his own, Jayce allowed himself to believe – just for a moment – that some dreams could be borrowed from time, even if they would shatter with the dawn.