Chapter Text
Jayce awoke slowly from his sleep, startled by the shrill ringing of his telephone on the bedside table. The sound, familiar but as unpleasant as ever, was a clear signal that it was time to leave Morpheus' gentle arms. His eyelids still heavy, he fumbled blindly for the device and silenced the alarm with a clumsy gesture. He lay still for a moment, his jumbled thoughts floating between dream and reality.
A deep sigh escaped his lips as he summoned up the courage to leave the enveloping warmth of his blankets. The contrast with the cool air in the room made him shiver as soon as he set foot on the floor. He sat on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumped, running a hand through his dishevelled hair as he scanned the half-light of his room.
Finally, he stood up, his shuffling footsteps echoing lightly on the creaky wooden floor of his flat. Every morning seemed to be a copy of the last: a monotonous routine that he carried out without much enthusiasm.
Always.
The.
Same.
Routine.
He crossed the narrow corridor, his bare feet half-appreciating the cold texture of the floor, until he reached the bathroom door. There, he mentally prepared himself for a new day which, he knew, would probably hold no surprises. It was always the same fucking routine. He'd get up, get ready for his first class of the day, before leaving college and going to work in that coffee shop where he knew some bitter old man was going to tell him he wasn't working hard enough. And by the time his day was over, he'd heard dozens of people complaining about how shitty their lives were and how they couldn't stand not being in control of their own destiny. Jayce understood. He returned home after finishing his service, ruminating against himself for having chosen to work while finishing his studies. He'd end up sitting at his desk working and catching up on the lessons he'd missed, then he'd go to bed at 2.30 in the morning and get up at 6 the next morning.
Always.
The.
Same.
Routine.
As he finished splashing some water on his face, Jayce looked at himself in the mirror. It was Thursday, the penultimate day of his terrible week. The purplish dark circles on his slightly tanned skin stood out like the old demons haunting him. Oh, he had a feeling this was going to be a long day, perhaps too long. He sighed and picked up his toothbrush.
He left the bathroom with a shuffling step, the cold tiles beneath his feet gently bringing him back to the reality of the morning. His toothbrush wobbled between his lips, the foam from the toothpaste forming a small white spot near his chin that he ignored completely. When he reached his bedroom, he stopped in the middle of the mess, glancing lazily at the clothes scattered here and there. He had neither the energy nor the inclination to bother with an outfit. After a moment's hesitation, he spotted his jeans from the night before, abandoned on the edge of the bed. Without thinking further, he grabbed them and gave them a quick shake to remove a few creases. He then grabbed a white t-shirt from a chair, its fabric slightly creased. Finally, he grabbed his trusty black hoodie, thick and comforting.
The bathroom mirror was still fogged up when he returned to finish his routine. He placed his hands on the edge of the washbasin, leaning forward slightly to get a better look at himself. He rinsed his mouth with a trickle of cool water, removing the last traces of mint from his tongue. Then, using the back of his hand, he quickly wiped his chin. A furtive glance in the mirror told him that his hair formed a messy mass that he tried to tame by running his fingers through it, without much success. No matter, his hoodie would conceal the hair chaos. He sighed softly as he dressed quickly, savouring the warmth and familiar softness of the fabric against his skin. Everything was in place, or almost. Jayce took one last look around before leaving the room, ready, or so it seemed…
Closing the door of his flat behind him, Jayce adjusted his rucksack in an automatic movement, used to the weight of it on his shoulders. He took his headphones out of his pocket, placed them over his ears and started his usual playlist. The first familiar notes filled his mind, drowning out the sounds of the outside world, which he preferred to ignore that morning.
The pavement in front of him was deserted at this hour, just early enough to avoid the crowds, but late enough for the sun to start warming the cool morning air. His feet knew the path perfectly, a route he took every day to get to his university campus. He walked at a steady, almost mechanical pace, paying little attention to his surroundings. Passing cars, singing birds, other passers-by crossing his path - it was all a blur, almost invisible.
Jayce wasn't in the mood this morning. He didn't feel like smiling at a neighbour he'd bumped into. No desire to respond to the curious looks of any other students he might meet. No desire to pretend. Each step sounded like a silent protest against having to start a new day. He wanted time to stop, just for a moment, to breathe, to exist without expectations or responsibilities.
The lyrics of the song playing in his ears went unnoticed, like a whisper in the background. Music was just a refuge, a way of cutting himself off from the world and its demands. This morning, today, Jayce wanted nothing more than to disappear into his own bubble, for the time of a journey, for the time of a moment.
Jayce found himself hoping, almost silently begging, for something unexpected to break the crushing monotony of what was shaping up to be an interminable day. Something, anything, to break this predictable and already exhausting routine. A chance meeting, an unexpected situation, even a slight setback would have been enough to awaken some semblance of interest. But for the moment, nothing seemed to be happening. He glanced furtively at his phone. 8.25am. He sighed quietly, exasperated by the feeling that time itself was conspiring against him. The day had barely begun, but it was already carrying the weight of a tiredness he couldn't explain.
He felt the strap of his rucksack saw slightly into his shoulder and moved to readjust it, as if this simple gesture could also bring his mind back into balance. But nothing worked. The feeling of inertia persisted, heavy and unchanging. The sky, a pale grey, seemed to reflect his mood. Not really bright, not totally dark, just bland…
Always.
The.
Same.
Routine.
******
Jayce eventually arrived on the vast campus, a little distracted by his gloomy thoughts and the music still playing in his ears. A few familiar faces greeted him politely with a nod or a smile, but he ignored them almost mechanically, too absorbed in his own thoughts. He had no particular desire to linger and chat this morning.
With a firm step, he headed straight for his lecture theatre, ready to start his day. According to his memories - which were often a little hazy, he had to admit - his first class of the day was a two-hour lecture. The subject? Fluid mechanics, or mathematics. Or something like that. They weren't subjects he was particularly fond of, but he'd make do.
He pushed open the heavy door to the amphitheatre, where the atmosphere was already hushed, punctuated by the murmur of students gradually arriving and looking for their seats. The rows of seats were slowly filling up as some set up their laptops, while others scribbled absent-mindedly in their notebooks or chatted while waiting for the class to start. Jayce took a seat near the middle, far enough away not to attract attention, but close enough to follow what was being said.
Against all expectations, the lesson passed surprisingly quickly, much quicker than Jayce had anticipated. To his surprise, he found the lesson not only interesting, but almost captivating at times. The teacher had managed to make the lesson interesting. Jayce, who had sat in the lecture theatre preparing himself mentally for two hours of monotonous daydreaming, soon found himself with pen in hand, scribbling notes diligently in his notebook.
As the class drew to a close, Jayce almost felt a pang of regret. The two hours had gone by without him noticing. With a satisfied sigh, he methodically put his things away, gathering up his notebook and pen and slipping them into his bag.
Jayce got up in turn, walked up the central aisle, then pushed open the amphitheatre door to find himself back in the busy corridor. Perhaps the day was going to be more pleasant than he had thought when he got up that morning. Slipping his bag over his shoulder, he headed for his next classroom, mingling with the stream of students making their way through the corridor.
******
The morning passed with disconcerting speed, far too quickly for Jayce's liking. The hours passed with a strange fluidity, almost as if time had decided to play a trick on him. By the time he left his last class, it was already 12.30 and the usual rush of hungry students was pouring into the corridors and alleys of the campus. Some were running towards the cafeteria, others were dragging their feet, their eyes still drowsy from a morning that had been far too busy, or just from lack of sleep…
Jayce, on the other hand, knew exactly what to expect. His shift at the café started at 2pm sharp, which left him an hour and a half to get home, have a quick bite to eat and maybe, with a bit of luck, call his mum for an update. It had been several days since they last spoke, and even though she never reproached him for his silence, he knew she must be worried.
Without wasting a second, he jumped on the first tram heading for his neighbourhood. About ten minutes later, he was getting off in a hurry, the sound of his soles echoing lightly on the deserted pavement.
At 1pm on the dot, he finally crossed the threshold of his flat, relieved to be back in the peace and quiet of his little cocoon. He closed the door behind him, put his bag down carelessly near the entrance and walked automatically to the kitchen. At 1.05pm, he opened the freezer and grabbed a frozen dish - probably a lasagne or chicken curry, he hadn't even taken the time to read the packaging - which he slipped into the microwave. As the machine hummed gently, he leaned back against the counter, his eyes glued to the screen of his phone where he was scrolling through his messages, without much conviction.
At 1.15pm, he was sitting in one of the high chairs of his bar-counter, fork in hand. His plate steaming in front of him, he ate quickly while continuing to scroll through his news feed. A few notifications appeared: group exchanges for a course project, a message from an old friend from high school, and a text from his mother asking how his week was going. He frowned slightly, torn between a feeling of guilt and a sincere desire to call her. But the clock was ticking and he wouldn't have enough time for a real conversation.
By 1.30 p.m., he had already wolfed down his meal and was tackling the dishes, all the while listening to his music. The sound of water and plates clashing mingled with the guitar riffs pulsing in his ears, the driving rhythm giving him a semblance of motivation.
At 1.35pm, he rushed to his room, opened his wardrobe in one swift movement and took out his work clothes: perfectly fitting black jeans and a shirt matching the sober colours of the café where he worked. He changed in record time, glancing quickly in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable. His hair was a bit of a mess, but that would be enough for today.
At 1.45pm, he closed the door of his flat behind him and found himself in the street, the light afternoon breeze brushing his face. He had always made a habit of leaving early; he hated the idea of arriving right on time or, worse still, late. Hexgate, the small café where he worked, was only a few minutes' walk from his home, but that didn't change anything: arriving ten minutes early had become a rule he imposed on himself without fail. It also gave him time to settle in quietly and prepare himself mentally for the long afternoon ahead.
The streets were busy at this hour, full of passers-by coming and going, their arms full of bags or their eyes immersed in their phones. Jayce walked briskly, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. As he caught sight of the familiar Hexgate storefront, he felt, as he always did, that strange mixture of anticipation and tiredness. Well... The negative feelings of waking up came rushing back as he approached. How many arrogant suits, impatient sourpusses and smiling grannies was he going to serve today? Jayce sighed as he rushed into the café, greeting his boss before going into the back room to prepare himself mentally.
******
The hands of the clock seemed almost to freeze, moving at an unbearably slow pace. 2pm, then 3pm, then 4pm... each minute stretched like a rubber band ready to snap. Jayce, standing behind the counter, felt the weight of boredom building up, getting heavier with each customer who came through the door. He wore a mechanical, calculated smile, but everything inside him was crying out for this interminable day to come to an end. The exchanges repeated themselves, monotonous, and Jayce, although used to them, was struggling to contain his growing exasperation.
Hello, smile,
Here, smile,
Have a nice day, smile,
Goodbye, smile.
Every glance at the clock was torture: 5pm could never come fast enough. After three and a half hours of work, Jayce breathed a sigh of relief as he realised he could finally take a well-deserved break. He left his post with a nonchalant step, heading towards the back of the shop like an automaton. On the way, he grabbed his phone, which was neatly tucked away in his personal locker, a discreet smile tugging at his lips at the idea of escaping this monotonous routine for a few moments. The freshness of the outside air hit him as he opened the door leading to the stairs at the back of the building. There, on one of the weathered steps, he sat down, enjoying the relative calm that contrasted with the hustle and bustle of the shop.
He unlocked his phone with the usual gesture, its screen lighting up his tired face. As he'd expected, an Instagram notification was waiting for him: Vi had flooded his private messages again. Jayce couldn't help but laugh as he launched the first video, a silly old Vine that made him laugh genuinely. Vi always had a tendency to send him stupid videos that only made her laugh. Jayce knew that the only reason she sent him so many videos was because he laughed too. And also because Caitlyn thought it was really stupid and it didn't make her laugh. Anyway, the next ten minutes were going to be a refuge, a bubble of air where he could forget about the customers, the hours, and this interminable day. He continued to scroll through the messages, a slight smile tugging at his lips, savouring the moment.
The ten minutes seemed to fly by, as if time had suddenly accelerated as Jayce savoured this rare moment of respite. He was absorbed in the videos, his thoughts wandering away from the hustle and bustle of the café. But this bubble of tranquillity suddenly burst when the firm, authoritative voice of his boss echoed from the back door.
‘Jayce! Your break's over, go back to the café!’ she said with that touch of impatience that never left her.
Jayce heaved a resigned sigh, switching off his phone with a quick gesture before slipping it into his pocket. He sat up slowly, his muscles protesting slightly after he had let himself go on the steps of the old outside staircase. The wind, gently caressing his skin, seemed to whisper an invitation to stay a little longer, but Jayce knew he couldn't afford another moment. The rules were strict here, and his boss was unforgiving of even the slightest deviation.
He went through the back door, closing it behind him carefully to prevent it from slamming too loudly. The interior of the Coffee Shop immediately drew him in: the subdued lighting, the smell of cleaning products mixed with that of the coffees served and the pastries, and the constant background noise - a mixture of customers' voices and laid-back music playing on a loop. It was all in stark contrast to the calm he had experienced outside just a few moments earlier. Almost mechanically, he crossed the back room to the locker where he kept his personal belongings. He carefully placed his phone on the shelf, taking a second to adjust his crumpled shirt and put his name tag back on. His reflection in the small mirror hanging on the inside of his locker door gave him a tired image, that of a young man, already too exhausted for his age, who was nevertheless trying to remain professional.
Taking a deep breath, he closed the locker and returned to the main room. Behind the counter, everything looked just as he had left it: the products perfectly lined up, the smell of hot and cold coffee wafting through the air and the noise of customers chatting. With a forced smile, which he had now mastered to perfection, Jayce returned to his post, ready to greet the next customer with the feigned energy that kept him afloat. But in the back of his mind, he was already counting the hours until the end of his shift. He was on closing duty, as he had been almost every day since he'd taken the job.
******
However, nothing - absolutely nothing - could have prepared Jayce for the vision before him when the entrance chime rang out once again. It was almost 6pm, and although he was immersed in a mechanical routine, his instinct was to look up. The sight that greeted him left him completely motionless, frozen in place as if time itself had stopped.
At the entrance to the shop, he instantly recognised the familiar, jovial face of his maths teacher and promotion director, Professor Heimerdinger. A small, energetic figure, with red hair streaked with messy whites and round glasses that always seemed ready to slip off his nose, he exuded the same aura of eccentric benevolence as in his lectures. But it wasn't his presence that had stopped Jayce's breath. No, it was the man standing next to him.
There was something magnetic about the young man, who was obviously a little older than Jayce. His dark brown hair, impeccably combed back, shone slightly under the artificial lights of the shop, as if it had been carefully prepared for a photo shoot. Her eyes, auburn and shining like thousands of stars, seemed to capture everything they looked at with a disarming intensity. Her face, perfectly symmetrical, had that classic, timeless beauty that you only see on the covers of magazines Jayce absentmindedly flips through when he's waiting for his hairdresser. Her cheeks were sunken, but not in a sickly way, and her skin was as pale as porcelain, with a slight pink tinge to it, probably due to the cold November wind. A mole under his right eye, another at the top left corner of his mouth... These insignificant details made him seem almost unreal. His slender appearance was accentuated by the cane he was leaning on. Every detail of his posture and gait betrayed a kind of natural grace, as if his every movement had been carefully choreographed.
Jayce felt his heart racing, pounding violently in his chest. Why such a reaction? He couldn't say. Was it the striking beauty of this stranger or the way his mere presence seemed to overshadow everything else in the room? Perhaps it was the aura he exuded, that combination of mystery and charisma that seemed to captivate everything around him. Fucking hell. Jayce wasn't gay! At least... that's what he thought... Was he?
The man walked quietly alongside Heimerdinger, exchanging a few words with him in a low voice that Jayce couldn't hear from his position. But every step he took seemed to bring closer a storm that Jayce had not anticipated. He swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure.
When the two men finally approached the counter, Jayce struggled to sit up straight, quickly adjusting his apron and trying to put on a professional face. He had to remain in control of himself and not let anything show.
‘Hello! Welcome to Hexgate! What can I get you?’ said Jayce, smiling.
Stay professional. Smiling. Be pleasant.
‘‘Jayce! Hello, my boy! How are ya? And that'll be a latte! With a double dose of sugar!’ Said Heimerdinger happily. ‘And for Viktor...’
Heimerdinger turned to the young man, calling him by his first name with an almost casual familiarity: Viktor. The word seemed to echo in Jayce's mind, as if a haunting melody had just been triggered that he couldn't stop. Viktor. Viktor. Viktor...
He found himself repeating the name over and over in his head, silently savouring it, as if trying to capture every nuance. Jayce let his gaze slide over the man who bore that name. It was a beautiful name...
He felt a strange warmth rising in him, somewhere between wonder and embarrassment that he could not define. He discreetly bit his cheek to refocus, but the echo of the name continued to dance in his mind. Viktor. Viktor also looked at him.
'A black coffee, please.'
Oh. That voice. Jayce felt his heart miss a beat. Damn it. He tried to hold on, nodding.
'That’s it? Do you pay together or separately?'
Heimerdinger, true to his usual enthusiasm, added a blueberry muffin to the order with an accomplice smile. He declared that he would pay for both orders, which seemed to suit Viktor perfectly, who made no comment, contenting himself with a slight nod. Jayce quickly nodded and took care of his teacher, his precise and mechanical gestures, although some of him remains distracted. A distraction with a name: Viktor.
He rushed to finish the cash, forcing a polite smile, then moved away to the beverage counter to prepare the order. Coffee with milk for Heimerdinger. Black coffee for Viktor. A simple, easy command, but Jayce still found a way to lose track of his thoughts by manipulating the cups. His mind, which he would have concentrated on the coffee machine, was only returning to Viktor. This elegant figure, these piercing eyes... Why was he unable to get it out of his head?
He didn’t even know him. Or at least he wasn’t sure. He had this strange sensation, like a vague memory, almost tangible but elusive. Was it an illusion, a mere effect of the intensity of the moment? Or had he actually met him somewhere before? As he filled the cup with black coffee, he tried to remember. Viktor. This face. He was almost sure he had seen it before, but where? Maybe on campus? Yes, it seemed likely. He was a student after all.
Jayce felt her heart go wild with the idea. This meant that perhaps they had already crossed paths in the corridors of the faculty, between two classes, without him paying much attention at the time. But today, everything seemed different. Viktor had caught his gaze, his mind, and he was like a fixed point in a universe that was spinning at a slow pace. Every detail of his person remained engraved in his mind, as an image too clear to be forgotten.
Lost in his thoughts, he nearly overflowed the cup of coffee with milk, which made him jump and refocus for a moment. He placed the cups on the tray carefully, trying to regain strength, placing the muffin next to it. He turned to the duo, giving them their set with a smile. Viktor was looking at him, or so Jayce thought...
Who the fuck was that man? And why did Jayce feel like a magnet?