Work Text:
It happens on an ordinary day in the lab, amongst piles of books and scraps of paper, stale coffee and warm tea. Viktor reads over a worn out journal deciding to revisit an old prototype, after a frustrating day of dead ends. Something slips out of the pages, gently floating onto his desk. Viktor doesn’t pay much mind until he recognises the shape of the bold house Talis seal.
It’s a letter, with a resolute goodbye hidden inside. A cold night flashes back in his mind, the silhouette of a man who thought there was nothing left in this world to tie him down. Ready to end it all, caught off guard by a humble dean's assistant, confident enough to tease him while on the precipice of life and death.
His fingers smooth over the seal and his heart pangs. This is something that should have been rid of long ago. But…He relates, he understands the idea of leaving behind something after death, purposeful or not. That someone might further understand beyond the grave, why he did what he did.
Viktor doesn’t touch the contents, stuffs it back into the pages, closing the journal and feeling the fore-edge burn by the pads of his fingers. He stashes the book away in his desk drawer, having no idea what to do with the information that’s wriggled into his head, into his heart.
He pivots to his original intent, searching for a new avenue in their work, decidedly not broaching the subject of the note. In fact, he had no intention to, but each time since he sees Jayce smile, that plea hidden in parchment beckons, seal easily ripped by a sharp edge. His gut wrenches, expression strained.
Jayce notices, because of course he does. But work piles up, deadlines close in.
Eventually in a sleep deprived, caffeine fuelled intensity, he can’t take the strain. He pulls that letter out of its hiding place.
“Jayce.”
Mmm. A non committal sound, pen scratching and tracing lines of something clean, new and brilliant as ever.
Viktor drags his feet to the others desk, cane clacking in toe. His partner not gracing him with eye contact, too buried in his work. Assuming he would be handed some notes, or receive some words of context.
The letter is placed on the desk, Viktors eyes fixed on Jayce, searching. Jayce glances down, instantly knowing what it is because he’s curled fingers over its edges repeatedly, enough times that it no longer bites his skin. He doesn’t look back.
There’s a pause.
Neither knows where to start, they never talked about that night. The night where Viktor talked him off that ledge, off the edge of a knife without hesitation or hint of fear, or even acknowledgment really. Almost like he knew what Jayce needed to hear, like he had been the one holding that knife once before.
“Where did you—“
“Why keep this?”
He flinches, eyes snapping to Viktor. Unable to match such a prying gaze for long, hands shifting anxiously. “Did you read it?” The words form uncomfortably in his mouth.
“Of course not, do you have such little faith in me?” Viktor, straight faced, severe. Biting off the irritation of such an accusation, not willing to be knocked off course into uncharted territory.
Jayce reals back for a moment, of course not. He wouldn’t have read it. Viktor is the most private man he’s met, gods they’ve known each other for two years now and he’s barely stepped a foot in Viktor’s home. Not that he spends much time there either.
Shit. Okay…
“C’mon V, I just forgot about it. It’s been years, I haven’t had a thought like that since. I didn’t even know I still had it around.” He’s shrugging his shoulders, giving a disarming look, twisting the pencil between his fingers, work now abandoned.
Viktor stiffens in response, but his resolve unwavering. Brows knitted, lip curling as if the blatant lie has been slapped across his angular face. An unspoken you think I’m an idiot?
Jayce knows from previous experiences he’s toeing a line. He lets out a shaken breath, he gives in. His teeth unclench, willing the words out. “Creating… Magic is all I’ve ever strived for. It sparked a life in me I can’t take back…”
They both hold a look now, willing to speak. Willing to listen. An intensity softens.
Jayce drops the pencil with a clatter.
“…Even now, I—“ Jayce catches himself, awkwardly gesturing his hand between them “We. Could fail. It could all crumble and fall, my life’s work. My very existence rendered void.”
He can’t stop the words forming now, maybe the lack of sleep shared between them taking away the edge.
Even so, his voice grows quiet, eyes wandering away. “There are nights I think too hard about failure, and I cling to this idea—“ His voice catches, “—that maybe if I did walk off that ledge, it would be my failure alone. That those eyes all on me would turn away… With that weight of my obsession gone, I feel a sense of relief…” He lets out a breath, voice rasping as he unconsciously knots his hand in his hair. “…It’s…I’m ashamed.” He resolves in a whisper.
Viktor couldn’t stand the thought of that. He sees the knife twist in front of him, Jayce bleeding his heart out. Vulnerability he could never give back, but he took it all the same. Gods, he cares for this man. This stupid, and yet insatiably smart man, who hurdles towards progress, arms reaching, body aflame.
“Jayce, you….” He sighs, shifting his weight to the edge of the desk, cane clattering against the metal.
He needs to say this. He needs to know.
He shakes his head as if to force the words out. “You’re more than your work. More than what you can give the world.” He tries his damndest to get his intention across. “More than what the Council asks of you. More than what you can give to people.” His hand hovers, reaches out to Jayce, trying to bridge the gap. Touch so close he can feel the furnace known as Jayce Talis on his fingertips.
His partner has to hear these words, even if Viktor could never swallow the same.
“Don’t you think that’s a little hypocritical coming from you?” Jayce didn’t mean for it to have much bite, but his teeth snarl in retaliation.
He’s seen Viktor push himself beyond what little limits he appears to set. Viktor’s own obsession with their dream, as it eats away at them. Forever pushing and pulling, bending and breaking, reforging their dream. And neither wanted to stop. They both knew this, one just insane as the other.
Viktor’s hand twitches back, burned. His resolve cracks, just as Jayce knew it would. He feels shame in knowing he’s used Viktor’s weakness against him. But he doesn’t want to have this conversation, doesn’t want to be met with the ugly side of him. His obsession.
He wants praise, acknowledgment, success. Melting him like butter over toast, spread evenly with an ornate, soft edged blade. Not this ugly thing that twists, sticks out and persists in the quiet of his evenings, where no work induced fever can distract him.
Viktors hand turns into a fist against smooth metal, blood scorching. Knife stabbing. He drags his hand as he grabs the letter and shoves it into Jayces chest.
“Please. Burn it. No more of this.” It’s half a plea, half a command. “We will succeed Jayce. Do you trust me?”
“I do” Unwavering.
Viktor nods, losing himself in those bright golden eyes, amix with worry and resolve. The same ones he could have lost all that time ago, at the edge of the world with crazed potential of a brighter future hanging in the balance. He wishes he could carve out this wound, fill it with all the confidence and strength of the man he sees when success graces them and lights up his best friend’s face.
To lose that light…
It must have been obvious that Viktor was hurting, yearning for something, some other way to get to Jayce that wasn’t just words and fierce eyes. That he doesn’t want to lose his partner.
Before he’s able to consider his next words, a chair screeches as warm thick arms envelop his shoulders, cane rattling on the floor as the movement disturbs its resting spot. He’s sure he hears a quiet thank you , swallowed back and gone in an instant. His free hand, hesitant, reaches up along Jayces back and holding tight, embracing that comfort of a warm fire between them.
“Burn it.” He whispers.
“…Okay”
Viktor unconsciously lets out a breath of relief as he relaxes in the hold, which is now edging on awkwardly too long for his usual comfort, and yet not long enough for his nerves to untangle. “Okay Talis, don’t go too soft on me,” He chuckles, tapping lightly on the broad of Jayce’s back. “Any more weight on these bones of mine and I’ll take you down with me.” Snapping Jayce back to reality and prying his hands off the lighter man’s body. He’s clearly embarrassed and laughing out a sorry, sorry as he scrambles to make space, realising something is missing and ducking down to grab the abandoned cane. He exchanges it for the letter Viktor still clings to.
Jayce grasps Viktor’s wrist for a moment, hesitating to let go. “…Thank you. I needed this.” He admits, as their eyes both meet.
A small, fond, yet bittersweet smile graces Viktor’s features with a nod, and Jayce releases his hold. Viktor, determined to change the topic before the tables are turned, grabs the lone pencil on the desk and pulls himself down into the empty stool. “Now about these new plans of yours, a bit ambitious in the details but we could make it work…”
Chatter echoes throughout their lab with invigorated determination and unwavering assuredness as the mountains of discovery lay before them.
In the quiet, a knife contorts, then loosens. And there’s a chance, a small hope, that wound will close.
