Work Text:
Jayce’s feet were firmly placed in the dead center of the lab. He felt himself shaking. It was months upon months of pathetic pining for his beloved lab partner, Viktor.
Jayce was over it. Tired of overthinking all of Viktor’s words and actions. He was tired of tearing himself from the inside out, and that feeling of being so incredibly small in the gaze of Viktor knocked the wind out of his lungs. He had no idea what Viktor saw in him, and he forced himself to find out.
He’s always been this way. Every person his heart desired always seemed to punch him in the gut with rejection. It was a never ending cycle of self hatred and embarrassment, promising himself to never do it again, and then proceeding to do it once more.
He huffed at himself for having the audacity to have feelings for anyone. He knew how this happened: he would pine over them for months, hate himself relentlessly for it, tell them, and have it blow up in his face.
Viktor was different, he’d say, wanting it to be true so desperately. Things felt different to him, at least. He swore he saw it in the way Viktor looked at him, thought maybe the lingering touch left hints behind, and he selfishly relished in the thought of it, just maybe, being true.
Viktor was all he wanted. Viktor made him feel whole. His smile sent chills down his spine, relishing on the occasions he’d see his teeth. His delicate arms and legs moved in a way that captured Jayce’s attention every time. His quick, accent-coated quips made Jayce feel so fuzzy and light. He could keep going, really, but he’d just make things harder.
But he wasnt enough and he knew he wasnt enough. He knew his feelings for his partner were ones of delusion. He knew the things he saw in Viktor’s body language, his eyes that lingered, all the things he took as indicators for reciprocation was just him making it up. He knew it. He didn’t have a doubt about it in his mind.
But the dumbest part of him, so desperate to be loved by him, still had to make sure.
“Jayce?”
Jayce’s head whipped so hard towards the direction of the deep, familiar voice he swore he could hear the wind break from it.
“Viktor” he wills his body to actually move, his feet pointing towards Viktor who made careful strides towards him.
Jayce sucked in a deep breath.
“Are you… alright?” Viktor examined him like a foreign object. Having viktors attention like this made Jayce’s hair stand up on his arms. The words hung thick in the air, begging to be put to rest.
The words are on his tongue. It pokes out for a second.
“I have to tell you something” Jayce whispers like a highschooler, his eyes glued to his shoes.
“Yes? What is it?” his soft, accent curled words hit Jayce across the face. It makes his stomach hurt.
He finds the power to look Viktor in the eyes for only a few seconds before they slam shut. “I am so sorry, for this, really, but I must tell you” Jayce peeks out of his left eye, seeing a blurry, confused Viktor.
“Yes, it is fine, go on with it” Viktor began to get frustrated, ignorant to what the other man is twitching and fidgeting about.
“I’ve been thinking about you a lot over the last few months” Jayce finally begins. It already stings. He’s started now, he thinks, and now he can’t stop. It sinks into him as soon as he drops the s on “months”, sucking in air like hes starving. It’s like his body is already rejecting himself.
“It’s not in a platonic way” he finally continues after a few moments of silence and shaky breaths. He opens his eyes at a visibly uncomfortable Viktor. It twists the knife. He thinks he might pass out.
“Ah. Well- Jayce, I-“ Viktor rasps, his gaze fixed on the wall next to Jayce. He physically winces at the tone.
“I cant exactly say I feel that way” Viktor mutters, so awkward and jumbled, as his eyes meet Jayce’s.
And even though Jayce knew this, had heard this echoed through his mind for months, it hit him like a ton of bricks when said in his face.
Viktor was so visibly uncomfortable and it made Jayce sick to himself. He could throw up.
Jayce brings his hands together behind his back, nodding with a grin that took every ounce of his energy to will onto his face. It almost hurt.
“Yeah. That’s- that’s okay. I’m sorry if this complicates our work, really, I just wanted to tell you because it’s the right thing to do” Jayce rambles and rambles because it’s all he knows how to do. Just keep talking until they like you again. Keep reassuring them. Keep going. Don’t stop talking until everything is okay again.
Viktor’s lips press into a small, dry smile as he nods.
“I agree. Thank you for telling me” he says professionally. He’s done this before. Jayce isn’t different. Jayce was never different.
“Shall we get to work?” Jayce chimes, turning his body towards the desk. He thinks he might pop a vein with how hard he’s trying not to break into sobs. He just wants to stop talking about it.
“Excellent idea” Viktor says sweetly back, as if nothing had happened. He respects it, really.
He can appreciate that, at least.
As they work together, he watches Viktor scribble, watches him take deep breaths and his eyebrows knit together in concentration. It comes with a sting now, knowing he will never have it for himself.
It will never be his to share with him.
Even though Jayce is sitting right next to him, maybe even laughing with him, he’s never felt so far from him in his life.
He tries for optimism and silently hopes someone appreciates him like he does. The thought feels like a thousand needles poking into his heart. No matter how much this happened to him, it never hurt any less. The attempt at optimism fails miserably.
Viktor wasn’t different for Jayce; Jayce wasn’t different to Viktor. There’s nothing he can do about it.
He lets it wash over him like a cold shower, the loneliness and shame almost comforting when it hits his skin. He thinks it might be home to him. Maybe this is how it will always be. Everyone always told him when he was a kid that once he grows up, things will change. He’ll put himself out there and someone will see him.
Now, as he’s sitting on his bed, staring at the floor after a long day of baited breath and tears begging to bleed out of him, he starts to wonder if thats true.
The sobs fall out of him like he’s made for it. He thinks he is made for it. He grabs fistfuls of his bedspread and chokes on his own spit like a child.
He feels 13 all over again. Back in the bright, fluorescent lit hallways of his middle school, His head slamming against the cool metal of the lockers and then once more on the ground after taking a rough shove from an upperclassman. He can still hear the laughter, still see the faces of the crowd that circled him. He can taste the blood from his busted lip.
This is where he belongs.