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The hospital was much too white.
White walls, white sheets, white coats, white, pearly smiles filled with pity and lies. Viktor hated the brightness of it all, how it showed off the cracks and flaws in him that he was not ready to face.
Deteriorating— that was the word they’d used to describe his body. Such a sterile word for something so heavy and horrible and irreversible. Viktor had stared up at the ceiling while they said that, his fingers fidgeting with the ends of his blanket, nodding along like he understood, but he didn’t. He couldn’t. The words barely registered; progression, rapid decline.
The doctors had spoken gently, offering their condolences as though it would make a difference. “Rest,” they’d said. “Focus on the time you have.” As if telling him to savor his dwindling days would undo the gnawing grief that clawed at his chest.
Now, back in the laboratory, his mind was elsewhere. It was slipping out of his grasp like sand, leaving only the rough, coarse feeling of a memory. A toy. Viktor didn’t know where the thought came from, just that it was there now, clinging to his brain. Faded fabric, a threadbare tail. It had been so important once, hadn’t it? A friend.
His chest ached in a way unrelated to his failing body.
He needed to find it.
Viktor stood up, his chair screeching against the floor as he pushed it back. He barely registered the pain shooting through his spine as he walked unassisted, hands frantically pulling at drawers, rummaging through supplies. Papers flew to the ground, bolts and screws scattered in all directions.
Somewhere in the corner of his mind where Viktor was still rational, he told himself this was pointless. His toy wouldn’t be here. Why would it? He hadn’t seen it in ages, thought about it for more than a fleeting moment in even longer. But the rationality was fleeting, drowned out by a frantic panic in his head. He opened cabinets where they stored Hextech prototypes, as though a childhood toy could have somehow nestled its way between refined crystals and gear casings.
“What are you doing?”
Jayce Talis’ voice startled him, sharp, clear, cutting through the fog of Viktor’s mind. Viktor froze, hands halfway into a toolbox. He turned around, feeling a faint heat rise up his neck.
“Nothing,” he mumbled.
“It sure doesn’t look like nothing.” Jayce crossed his arms, his brow furrowed with concern. “Does this have to do with…”
Viktor’s fingers tightened around the edge of the drawer. He didn’t want to talk about the hospital, nor his disease or his lifespan. He did not want to talk about anything. He just wanted—
“I lost my friend,” he blurted out, unable to stop himself.
Jayce’s expression softened, and his arms dropped to his sides. “Your friend? What friend?”
Viktor nodded quickly. “Yes. My— my friend. I cannot find it.”
“”It?”” Jayce blinked, shaking his head. “What? V, who are you talking about? Did someone come by while I wasn’t here?”
Viktor shook his head, looking down at his feet. His thoughts were a mess he couldn’t begin to untangle. How could he explain? He felt small and stupid and so tired.
Jayce sighed softly and grabbed Viktor’s crutch, offering it to him. “It’s okay, Viktor. We’ll find your friend, just tell me where you saw them last.”
The words were kind and warm, like a blanket draped over Viktor’s shoulders. “…I do not know,” he admitted. “It was… soft. And I would hold it at night when— when I was scared.”
Jayce’s brow furrowed deeper. “What?”
“When my parents were gone, my friend was the only thing that made me feel safe.” Viktor’s chest tightened.
Jayce’s face softened again, this time tinged with something Viktor could not quite place. Sadness. Maybe worry.
“Alright,” he said gently. “Let’s start looking.”
They tore the lab apart.
Or rather, Jayce tore it apart for Viktor while he trudged behind him, looking over his shoulder each time, hoping to see his toy.
“So, is this friend a boy or a girl?” Jayce asked, rifling through a cabinet.
“I never really thought about it.”
“Then what— wait, Vik, you know your friend can’t possibly be here, right? These are just tools.”
“I know!” Viktor snapped, though his voice cracked halfway through. “Just— what if it is?”
Jayce rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes filling with growing concern. “Alright. Let’s check the Forge.”
The Forge, as expected, was just as fruitless. Viktor stood there, his breathing shallow and his hands shaking as Jayce examined the area. “Was always there,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jayce. “When the boys at school were mean. When they called me weak, or crazy, or—” His voice cracked once again, and he swallowed hard. “My friend never laughed at me.”
Jayce stepped closer. “Viktor…”
Viktor shook his head, cutting the other off. “And my friend is gone.” His voice trembled as he looked up at Jayce with bleary eyes.
Jayce hesitated for a moment before placing a hand on Viktor’s back. “Let’s check your apartment. Maybe they’ll be there?”
It was a short walk. Even still, Viktor clung to Jayce’s sleeve like a lifeline the entire time. He felt small and helpless. It was an unsettling feeling, one he didn’t know how to process. He knew, though, that Jayce’s presence helped; his warm voice, his steady hands— it grounded him.
Once inside the apartment, Viktor immediately hobbled to his room and began pulling at drawers and overturning cushions. Jayce stood by the doorway, watching for a moment. He approached slowly, tilting his head.
Then something caught his eye. He leaned over, his broad shoulders blocking Viktor’s view. He reached down, wedging his hand between the bedframe and the wall. With a grin, Jayce pulled out a small, faded blue axolotl stuffie.
“Found something!” he said, holding it up.
Viktor froze.
The axolotl was smaller than he remembered, fabric worn thin in places, stuffing uneven. One of its little arms dangled precariously, held on by just a few threads.
And it was his.
Jayce turned to him, grinning. “V, is this—” He stopped mid sentence, his expression shifting as he noticed the tears streaming down Viktor’s face. “Oh, Viktor…”
A choked sob escaped Viktor’s throat. He reached for the toy, clutching it tightly to his chest as though it were the most precious thing in the world. His tears came fast and hard, his shoulders shaking with each shuddering breath.
Jayce sat him down on the bed, a familiar and warm action that only made him cry more. “Hey, hey,” Jayce murmured, pulling himself to Viktor’s side. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”
Viktor couldn’t say a word as he buried his face into the axolotl’s faded fabric, the smell of smog and nostalgia washing over him. Jayce wrapped an arm around his shoulders, holding him close and tight. His free hand gently carded through Viktor’s hair, smoothing the messy tangles.
“It’s okay,” Jayce whispered. “I’m here. You’re safe.”
Viktor sniffled, his hands clutching his toy tightly. Slowly, his sobs began to quiet, reduced to sniffles and shaky, uneven breathing.
Jayce pressed his lips to Viktor’s temple. “You’ve got your friend back now. And I’m here too, okay?”
Viktor clung to Jayce, his stuffie squished between them. Even after Viktor had stopped crying, Jayce didn’t let go, resting his chin on the top of his head. Viktor was the one to pull away, only slightly, looking up at his partner with red-rimmed eyes. “Thank you,” he mumbled.
Jayce smiled, brushing a stray tear away from Viktor’s cheek. “Always,” he said. Then, with a playful smirk, he added, “But I bet I’m much better to cuddle with than your friend there.”
Viktor let out a small, watery laugh, clutching the toy tighter. “Don’t know about that.”
Grinning, Jayce pulled Viktor into another hug. “You’re stuck with me, V. No matter what.”
“Is that meant to be reassurance?”
“Oh, haha.”
Later, as they lay curled up in bed, the axolotl still tucked securely in Viktor’s arms, Jayce’s hand moved in slow, lazy circles over the other’s back. Viktor could feel himself relax for the first time in— forever, really.
He closed his eyes, the soft weight of his friend and Jayce’s steady heartbeat lulling him into peace.
“You know,” Jayce said quietly, breaking the silence, “if you want, we could fix your friend up a little. Reinforce the seams, maybe patch up the arm.”
Viktor shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “No, it is perfect this way.”
Jayce tightened his hold around him. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You’re perfect, too.”
For the first time in what felt like forever, Viktor believed him.
Viktor closed his eyes, allowing the softness of Jayce’s words to wash over him. In this small, quiet space, he wasn’t broken, and he wasn’t alone. With Jayce by his side and his friend in his arms, Viktor felt whole.