Chapter Text
There he was, in the council chamber, hands placed flat on the gear-shaped table as he listened out for a response he was truly dreading.
He noticed Mel's lips parting. She was saying something.
.
“I support Councillor Talis’ proposal for peace.”
As he listened to those words, a surge of confidence washed over him, a small smile slowly playing at his lips. Though, that confidence was quick to morph into something else—uncertainty—as he came to realise that the council had not yet reached a final decision. Despite that, the words sparked hope within him, tugged at his heartstrings, and instilled a sense of faith—a belief that this could actually work. He knew it would require just as much patience as it would negotiation, but there was a genuine possibility that this could have positive outcomes for both the people of Piltover and Zaun.
This could be one step closer to progress.
Jayce scanned over the faces of the other councillors, searching each one for any sign of approval. He swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing anxiously in his throat, his mind racing with numerous made-up scenarios of how they might react as he awaited their judgment. 'Will they agree?' he couldn't help but wonder.
It wasn’t that he exactly cared about their opinions on him anymore—he was long past giving a shit. Frustratingly, his concern was more about whether or not they agreed with his decision. If they didn’t back him, he was at a loss for his next move. There was certainly no way he could achieve peace without the agreement of the council. So, all he could do was hope, his heart practically skipping a beat as he observed the subtle shift in the council’s demeanour. He watched how their heads turned to one another, eyes meeting in quick glances, sharing a look of hesitation that he could only assume was there.
After a moment that felt like an eternity, a quiet understanding seemed to form among them, acceptance gradually flooding their features. One by one, they lifted their hands in a silent agreement, the soft rustle of fabric and the irritated huff of Salo breaking the silence that had enveloped the chamber for the last few seconds. Each hand that rose caused a dramatic click to punctuate the air as a bright spotlight danced over each councillor that dared raise their hand, illuminating their faces with an ethereal glow. Every motion felt like a step towards something momentous and he couldn’t shake the wave of relief that washed over him.
The tension that had built up inside him seemed to lift, like a heavy weight rolling off his shoulders. Bowing his head for a moment, a toothy grin broke across his face, his eyes lighting up with gratitude as a deep sigh slipped past his lips, accompanied by a soft chuckle. It was that kind of laugh that comes when you’re momentarily at a loss for words, breathy and filled with astonishment, making his eyebrows knit together with disbelief.
Mel.
He shifted his focus to Mel, their eyes meeting. She had helped in bringing him to this stage. He owed her everything.
The look she gave him reminded him why his affection for her ran so deep. She was composed, articulated, and incredibly thoughtful: having been there for him when he needed it most. Not to mention, she had supported his and Viktor’s dream by generously funding Hextech. From the very beginning, she had believed in him, just as Viktor had.
Mel's smile radiated warmth, prompting him to return it, filled with a childish joy.
Peace.
Peace and civility had always been his aspirations, alongside his lifelong dream to harness magic through science. Many years back, he and Viktor had made significant strides toward that ambitious goal, actually succeeding in something everyone believed to be unfathomable. But now, just as hope began to blossom, an unsettling feeling crept in—a feeling that this was too good to be true. An unexplainable dread took root in the pit of his stomach, growing larger, clawing its way to the surface, undermining his confidence like a ticking timebomb, forcing him to start questioning himself. Something felt amiss.
Something was horribly, horribly wrong.
Jayce’s smile faltered slightly, but he held his composure. After all, this was just a feeling. Now was not the time to second-guess his decision, especially after making it this far—finally stepping up and taking action after such a long stretch of aimless chaos and turmoil.
He had grown tired of sitting idly by while countless people continued to die. He had seen what it was like down in Zaun; the conditions, the cruelty, that’s what moved him, what made him realise that he couldn’t just allow things to continue down that path. And that led him to today, brokering a peace with Silco: the eye of Zaun, in return for Jinx: Piltover’s most wanted criminal.
Zaun gets their independence and Piltover gets to put Jinx behind bars. That was the deal.
A flicker of hesitation crossed his gaze, fingertips twitching against the table's surface, his thick eyebrows meeting in a confused furrow as his gaze drifted to the window behind Mel, squinting his eyes at the outside displayed behind the fine glass. The longer he looked out, the more he began to notice a vague movement in the distance. No matter how much he looked past for a better view, he was faced with disappointment as he only saw a blurred silhouette of whatever was approaching.
"Three."
At first, he thought it might be a bird, but as it drew nearer, he began to notice details like: a pointed head, which was, admittedly, normal.
"Two."
But what caught his attention was the lack of wings, along with the trail of blue smoke streaming behind it. This was no bird. This was something heading straight towards them. A bomb.
His eyes widened, pupils going small with horror, eyebrows rising to the top of his head and lips parting in a gasp that he couldn't quite manage to force out as his mouth went dry. Panic flooded his senses. There was no escaping this.
"One."
He barely had time to react before—
...
'POW!'
Glass.
Glass was everywhere.
Smoke intoxicated the air, soft crackling filling his ears.
Screams.
Struggling.
People were screaming.
Why?
Coughing.
Crying.
…
“Jayce?”
“Jayce???”
“Jayce, wake up."
“Jayce?”
“JAYCE.”
Jayce gradually woke up, nose scrunching as smoke filled his nostrils, only to be met with a sharp, jarring pain radiating through his head. “Uhh…” he groaned softly, blinking open his hazel eyes as he lifted his head from Mel's shoulder.
Mel.
The moment he saw her he felt his heart sink.
He didn't want to think about the possibilities when he saw her pressed tightly against him. He didn't want to think—No—He couldn't bear to think about the fact she could be hurt. That she could be dead.
Death was an inevitable thing, he knew that fact. He had thought about it, considered it, even. He thought about it involuntarily. Though, how could he not? Death seemed so close yet so far, constantly chasing after him, gnawing at his ankles. Every time he thought it was about to win, about to swallow him whole, he’d manage to slip out of its deadly grip. Ever since he was a young boy, death had targeted him. His family.
Dead.
What if Mel was dead?
He should check, he knew he should. However, deep down, he didn't know if he could muster the courage to.
Please be okay...
He could feel her weight pressing against him, her arms encircling him in a tender embrace. They didn't choke nor drag. They were warm-gentle. Protecting yet loose.
I can’t lose you...
He pulled away, slowly, hands lightly placed on her shoulders, anxiety building up in his chest.
“Mel." he gasped, “Mel, are you okay?” voice barely above a murmur. His eyebrows knitted together and worry flooded his wide, searching eyes as he scanned her dust-covered face for any hint of consciousness. Gently, he reached out, cupping her cheek with one hand while his other grasped her wrist, his touch filled with tenderness.
A wave of relief washed over him when he noticed her face twitch, a small but significant sign:
She was alive.
His shoulders, which had been taut with anxiety, relaxed as Mel’s eyes gradually fluttered open, her expression shifting from confusion to bewilderment as she met his gaze.
He looked around briefly. Enforcers steadily advanced toward the scene, staggering through the broken bits of what used to be the council, their usually tidy uniforms already speckled with the fine ash that mingled with the gritty air.
Jayce turned back to face Mel.
"It's okay.." He reassured with a small nod. He knew very well that it wasn't. Though, despite that, he said it anyway, to give her a sense of comfort, to ease the sense of doom.
Everything around him was a foggy mess. His entire body throbbed with discomfort, and a stinging sensation behind his eyes made it hard to keep them open. It felt as if he couldn’t draw a breath, his heart pounding violently against his ribcage, each beat coming in quick, frantic bursts.
What was happening?
He swallowed hard, feeling a thick lump lodged in his throat that he didn't even know was there. Each intake of breath burned; smoke—perhaps from a nearby fire—filling his nostrils, enveloping him in a tight, suffocating grip.
The noise around him was deafening, overwhelming, in fact. He knew that despite the relentless, piercing ringing in his eardrums, not unlike a fork scraping against a plate.
The screeching continued to play over in his mind.
"Ever wonder what it's like to drown?"
Jayce blinked several times, confusion etched on his brow, and as the cogs in his mind slowly turned, it eventually clicked.
An explosion.
The memories rushed back—a deafening sound, a blinding flash that consumed his eyes seconds before disaster.
The question was:
Who else has survived? How many have died?
He couldn't help but wonder about these things.
Time hung in the air, each second dragging as if the world had slipped into slow motion. With a tentative resolve, he carefully slipped his hands under Mel's arms, hoping to reassure her amid the chaos. Gradually, he pulled both her and himself to their feet, feeling the rubble shift under their weight with each delicate movement. Through the blur of smoke, he could see Councillor Shoola slowly stumbling past the two of them with a large gaping wound on the right side of her face, lips parted in a silent gasp, a dazed look in her eye. The sight alone made him gasp silently to himself. It was a chilling, not to mention overwhelmingly intense, moment to be in, and all he wanted was to escape it. Just moments before, everything had been on track, flowing smoothly and seamlessly, which was better than he ever expected, and a sense of hope had surrounded him like a warm blanket. But, in the blink of an eye, that fragile sense of security shattered like glass, leaving him desperately grasping at the remnants of what could have been. The sudden shift felt like a cruel twist, as if some fate had decided to yank the rug out from under him.
Fire.
The acrid, molten stench hung in the air, heavy and oppressive, mingling with the ash that coated everything in a dull, grey haze. The air burned in his nostrils, making his throat tighten painfully as its toxic tendrils clawed at his lungs, making him feel like he might choke. Each breath was a struggle, and the fumes stinging his eyes did nothing to help, only making them to ache and burn.
Fire surrounds them.
He desperately wished that what was happening was some hellish nightmare, a twisted figment of his imagination he could escape with a sudden jolt of awakening. Yet, as he fought to hold onto that comforting illusion he was feeding himself, reality bore down on him like an unbearable weight. Every detail—the Enforcers, the throbbing and unyielding pain in his head, the feeling of Mel's hands on his forearms—harshly reminded him that this was no dream. This was his reality, trapped in a moment he couldn't get out of. Something he couldn't run from. And that truth terrified him more than anything.
Frantically, he scanned the place, his pupils dancing across each detail, lost in a trance as disbelief washing over him, swiftly replaced by a paralyzing terror. His eyes widened in horror at the sight before him: Councillor Hoskel lying on top of a pile of broken marble and pillar, limp and lifeless, covered head-to-toe in ashes and blood. His gaze darted to another body not too far away and he was horrified to see another Councillor’s, Bolbok’s, lifeless body sprawled on the cold floor, broken. His jaw dropped, slack with shock, mortified and utterly speechless. He wanted to say something, to comfort Mel, heck, to comfort himself! But, just as he opened his mouth, the words refused to come out, the only thing audible being his own stuttering breaths. Maybe it was for the best—right now, he doubted he could utter anything that wouldn't devolve into a jumbled stream of anxious blabber.
He could hear screams not too far from him, sending a shiver down his spine. With a shaky breath, he turned to face the source of the sound, only for his heart to sink as he saw it; Salo’s legs were crushed beneath a large cluster of rubble, eyes screwed shut, crying out in agony and throwing his head back as one of the enforcers struggled to help him out.
His hands slowly slipped away from Mel, now balling into unsteady fists at his sides, leaving angry crescent-shaped marks on his palms. He swallowed, a dreadful feeling settling in his gut—fear coiling like a snake in his stomach, nausea crashing over him like a relentless wave, guilt tugging at his conscience? It felt like a painful mixture of all three.
Salo's agonising screams echoed in his ears as his eyes raced around the scene. Yet, despite the chaos, one unmistakable sight snagged his attention—
Councillor Kiramman
Cassandra
"No!.." The word came out quieter than he expected, more of a desperate whisper than a yell.
He ran. There was no time for thoughts, just the urgent need to reach her. His mind swirled like leaves caught up in a violent storm, overwhelmed by the frantic beating of his heart. His legs buckled beneath him, and he collapsed onto his knees.
She can't be dead...
His arms hovered above her still form, trembling slightly as he looked down at her, a blend of worry and fear filling his gaze. "No..." he murmured, the word barely escaping his lips— heavy with anguish—small and quiet. Alarmed, he raised his hand to her shoulder, nerves coursing through him as he gently nudged her, a flicker of hope igniting within him, hoping that she would wake up,—
Wake up.
—that'd she stir awake and be alright.
A part of him—a small, stubborn part—clung to the fragile hope that she might still be alive. He parted his lips, struggling to form words, but only breathless sounds escaped as his gaze wandered over Cassandra's face. He searched desperately for any sign—a flicker of her eyelids, a twitch of her lips—anything that could prove to him that she was alive. But when he felt her body shift sluggishly beneath his hand, and saw how her face remained unmoved, and the way blood dripped from her head, along with the lack of light in her unblinking eyes, the painful truth settled heavy and impossible in his gut.
She was gone.
Grief flooded his being. He tried to dig through the fog of his mind, to find a way to help, but was left with only one sole thought: Caitlyn. What would he tell her? What could he tell her? His heart ached, not just for himself, but also for her. Who could be so heartless as to do this? Why would anybody want this? His obvious suspect would be Silco, an easy assumption no less, but his thoughts drifted to someone else-
Jinx
This attack, it felt far too unethical to be the work of Silco. After all, why would he agree to peace only to turn around and do such an act? It just didn’t add up; the plan seemed far too chaotic. And the bomb? Its colours resembled one he had seen not long ago. Who else could it be, if not Jinx?
He felt a gentle hand resting on his shoulder, a small but meaningful gesture. Although he could swear it was there, the sheer weight of it all clouded his ability to even begin to grasp who it belonged to. No matter whose touch it was, it offered him no comfort; if anything, it only made him feel even more on edge.
A silent gasp escaped his lips. The emotions swirling inside him were indescribable. Everything around him had dissolved into a chaotic blur, colours and shapes merging into each other like a watercolour painting left out in the rain, yet his eyes remained unwaveringly fixated on Cassandra’s lifeless form lying before him.
He barely registered who he assumed to be Mel pulling away from him in one hasty motion.
He could hear the commanding yells of Ambessa slicing through the heavy, humid air like a sharpened blade, each word resonating with authority. Yet, those sounds were faded into the distance, mere echoes—hollow and insignificant. They were not what he was focused on. No, his focus lay elsewhere.
Viktor. Where was he?
Jayce slowly tilted his head upward, his gaze finally managing to break away from Cassandra to look around the area surrounding him, dreading as he searched for the one person he hadn't seen. The air was thick with tension as people rushed past him, their frantic voices blending into a cacophony of shouts and cries that echoed in his ears. Though, among the blur of uniformed Enforcers moving with urgency, he caught sight of a figure lying motionless on the ground—
.
..
...
Viktor?...
...
His eyes screamed what his lips feared to whisper. They were impossibly wide and dilated, glistening uncontrollably. Tears began to pool at the edges, threatening to spill over.
No, no, no- This couldn't be Viktor. This wasn't Viktor!
...
Right?
His hair, usually neatly swept back, was now dishevelled, unruly strands cascading messily across his forehead as he bent over Viktor's awkwardly-positioned body with his hands almost immediately rushing to his shoulders, mind racing and desperately scrambling to find what to do.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing.
"V-Viktor? Viktor, can you hear me?" Panic clawed at his chest, threatening to overwhelm him as tears began to slip.
“Viktor?” he—barely—choked out, his voice trembling with fragility and breathlessness. The words were heavy in his throat, hardly escaping with how laboured he was breathing. He was on the verge of sobbing, the world around him blurring as tears flooded his vision, yet he pushed it aside. Nothing else mattered, nothing but Viktor.
Still, no reply.
Viktor's face was ghostly in colour, a pale complexion coated in a fine layer of ash and scattered with a network of cuts varying in size and depth. His head hung limply against the sharp, jagged remnants of shattered debris, the fabric of his clothes tattered and frayed, bits of rubble covering his torso. His lips were slightly parted, as if he were caught in a final breath, and his eyes were shut, completely still. His expression was a blank canvas, lacking any hint of emotion, and that only deepened Jayce's sense of worry.
He noticed the unusual colouring and texture of Viktor's right hand and leg, darkly tinted with a bright purple pattern that seemed to flow beneath his skin. Skin? Was it skin?—What was it? He couldn't tell. It was as if his hand and leg had been augmented in some strange way.
He'd have to ask about it when Viktor wakes up.
The tightness in his stomach started to grow increasingly more uncomfortable, a lump forming in his throat as he stared down at his partner's body, horror etched across his face. Jayce swallowed hard, mouth opening and closing as he tried to find the words to say, but the lump refused to leave, his heart quickening and sweat clinging to his forehead, a strong wave of nausea washing over him, on top of the dreadful fear that he might lose Viktor.
His eyes fluttered slightly, the lump only travelling further and further up his throat, its pace not slowing no matter how hard he tried to stop it, his stomach clenching violently. A gag escaped his lips, and before he could brace himself, he was hunched over the ground, the contents of his stomach spilling onto the floor with a force that left him feeling groggy. The vile smell filled the air, mixing with the lingering scent of burning, its smell just as unbearable as the sight. He brought his fist up and wiped the remnants of vomit from his mouth, a low groan leaving him. "Viktor.." He half-whispered, half-croaked, voice breaking with raw emotion, glossy eyes falling back to the body beside him, which still lay unmoving, and he hoped that, perhaps, if he were to wait long enough, Viktor would move.
"Viktor- Viktor?" He made another poor attempt at waking him.
"Help! Please, someone, help him!" His voice raised in a ragged shout as he held Viktor up to his chest.
He felt useless. Helpless and unable to do anything. This feeling, it was far too similar to a time that had left him terrified and dreading, and cold and-
"Councillor Talis." A voice broke through the fog of his thoughts, bringing them to an abrupt stop. "I need to check you for any injuries," an Enforcer stated, their tone firm yet professional, voice briefly muffled behind the mask they wore. They brought a gloved hand to rest gently on Jayce's rigid shoulder, attempting to convey reassurance. "Please step away from the body so I can examine you." It wasn't simply a body though. It was his partner's. It was Viktor's. He couldn't just step aside while his friend bled out, he refused to.
"Wh-" Jayce's nose scrunched up involuntarily, "I'm fine!" He protested with exasperation, his voice tinged with frustration as he jerked his shoulder out of the Enforcer's grip, slumping over Viktor's body. "Can't you see that he needs help?!"
Wordlessly, the Enforcer retreated their hand. "With respect, it's highly necessary that I check nonetheless. You might have sustained-"
"I don't need help!" Jayce interrupted through gritted teeth, tears now freely running down his cheeks despite his obvious struggle to stop them. "He's not moving," he said, looking down at Viktor. "Do something! Anything!"
The Enforcer hesitated for a moment, slightly shocked by Jayce's outburst, their gaze intent and focused, eyes narrowing slightly as they weighed the situation. After some time, they gave a small nod of understanding, "Right," they said, clearing their throat. "Of course, Councillor."
Jayce could do little more than observe, his heart pounding in his chest as he shuffled slightly to the side, making space for the Enforcer to approach Viktor, a quiet but harsh sob escaping his throat—raw and broken.
With steady hands, the Enforcer stripped off their glove, crouching down beside Viktor, their fingers poised delicately above his neck, searching for any sign of life. Two fingers press gently against the pulse point, their brows furrowing in concentration as they felt for the faintest rhythm of a heartbeat. The Enforcer's eyebrows knitted together and they casted a quick, unreadable glance at Jayce before returning their full attention to the task at hand. Using their fingers to pry Viktor's eye open, they looked closely to see if it moved, and it didn't. It was unreactive, faintly clouded over and hazy looking. The Enforcer sighed, bringing their hand back and watching as Viktor's eye fell closed. "I'm sorry sir-"
"No!" Jayce cried, his voice cracking as he struggled to keep whatever ounce of composure he had left. Tears streamed down his cheeks, leaving glistening trails as they fell. It felt as if a dam had broken within him, unleashing an endless torrent of despair that he couldn't contain. “No, he can’t—i—he isn’t dead!" He babbled, his heart racing, pounding against his ribs with a frantic urgency. He sniffled, looking down at Viktor sadly. "No..You have to check again.!" he demanded.
"But-"
"Check again!"
"He's—"
"No!"
"He's dead."
"No-.." His words died out in his throat and he desperately tried to think, his thoughts all over the place.
"Sir?" The Enforcer asked.
"I can't just leave him here." Jayce insisted with a wavering voice.
He could hear the Enforcer stand up next to him, their uniform rustling and their figure casting a shadow over where he sat. They narrowed their eyes, sighing, "We will make sure he is safely removed from the scene and taken to a mor-"
"He's my partner! I- I can't just let him die!" Jayce stammered, only just loud enough for the Enforcer to hear over the background noise. They wanted to correct him, to tell him that he was dead, but, judging by Jayce's state, there was no convincing him.
Guilt: It was beginning to gnaw away at him. He had brought Viktor to this meeting. He could have prevented this if he had just listened to Viktor's protests and had let him stay at the lab.
He furrowed his eyebrows, panting through parted lips. "He saved my life once...i-" i owe him everything, "-I have to at least do something to save his!"
Viktor. He had been right beside him in that moment. How is it that Jayce walked out completely unharmed while Viktor lay there bleeding out? How is it that most of the council lay dead while he was here unscathed?
He can't be dead! He can't be-
He let out a breath, working with trembling hands as he carefully peeled away Viktor's tattered shirt, each movement shaky and filled with desperation. "It's... it's okay," he murmured, aiming to comfort Viktor but clearly seeking some sort of reassurance for himself.
The worried voices behind him were muffled. At this moment, all that mattered was saving Viktor.
His heartbeat thudded loudly in his ears, a relentless drumbeat of fear, and his breath caught in his throat, gaze locking onto the runes etched into Viktor's pale skin, rushing over markings that spiralled and twisted into different patterns. A knot formed in his stomach as he grappled with the chilling realization—Did Viktor do this? ...Why?
Wake up- Come on, wake up..
"Sorry..." Jayce said, his voice trembling as he tugged awkwardly on Viktor's shirt. A small involuntary chuckle escaped his lips despite the tears streaming down his face. In any other circumstance—on a day when they were working side by side in the lab—Viktor would have frowned disapprovingly upon his clumsiness. He could almost hear Viktor's stern voice now, lecturing him about the importance of precision and caution when around such dangerous equipment. 'It's a safety hazard, Jayce!' Viktor would scold, and Jayce would roll his eyes playfully in return. And yet, today was different: immensely different.
I have to help him...
I can help him!-
He intertwined his fingers, creating a secure clasp, and positioned his hands over the centre of Viktor's sternum, feeling the rapid beats of his own heart in his ears.
He longed to be gentle, to offer comfort instead of force, but, if he was going to perform CPR, he had to be firm. As a wave of regret washed over him, he mentally whispered an apology to Viktor and began with a shaky exhale.
He pressed down—"One,"
He watched with guilty eyes as Viktor's chest shifted beneath the pressure—"Two,"
Again—"Three,"
He could hear faint voices through the noise of his foggy mind. "Councillor??" One asked,—
"Four,"
—"Jayce?" Asked another; it was a feminine voice—Mel? She was still here?
There was one that was louder than the others.—
"Five,"
—it's there, itching away at him:
"Step away from the body."
No. He couldn't. He had to save Viktor. He will save Viktor.
"Six,"
"Seven,"
"Eight,"
come on
"Nine,"
I'm sorry. You'll be okay, I promise
"Ten,"
"Eleven,"
"Twelve,"
"Thirteen,"
He could feel his shoulders starting to ache from the labour but he kept pushing. He had to continue. For Viktor.
"Fourteen,"
"Fifteen,"
"Sixt–" CRUNCH
Oh.
Oh
Oh gods.
No, no,
nonononono
Jayce's breath came in ragged gasps as he stared down at Viktor's unconscious body, his wide, trembling eyes filled with horror. He froze, the sickening crack of the man's ribs echoing in his mind, a wave of dizziness washing over him, nausea threatening to reclaim its hold.
His gaze dropped to his hands, shaking and flecked with dark red that wasn’t supposed to be there. These were the hands meant to hold Viktor, to offer comfort and support. Instead, they had only made things worse.
Time was slipping by and he knew he must act fast. He needed to get Viktor to the lab and try something—anything—to save him. He couldn't let him die; he wouldn't let that happen. It may be selfish, but he couldn't bring himself to leave his partner, bleeding and suffering, any longer. The thought of Viktor dead—because of him—is a weight he knew he wouldn’t be able to bear. He would never be able to live with that on his conscience, with that image etched in his memory: Viktor laying on jagged bits of rubble, lips parted, his eyes hazy and clouded, staring in a way that felt as if he were looking through Jayce, not at him. The thought alone makes Jayce's chest tighten.
Viktor looked pale, concerningly so. He was losing blood, a lot of it, and Jayce, without much thinking put into it, slowly scooped his hands underneath the man’s body, one on the centre of his back, the other at the back of his knees.
Footsteps came from behind him, a voice speaking up, “Where are you going with Viktor?” It was Mel.
“The lab.” He grunted, lifting himself from the ground with Viktor in his arms, trying his hardest to ignore just how cold Viktor was against his hands. The way he could lift him so easily was extremely worrying, and Jayce couldn’t help but bring attention to how still the man was. He…wasn’t breathing.
Jayce bit back a sob. It’s okay.. He reassured himself, He’s just unconscious.
Mel looked at him with empathy, her eyes sympathetic and wandering over the back of his head, searching as she spoke, “Jayce..I know how much he means to you but you must let him go.”
He shook his head, screwing his eyes shut, refusing to listen to Mel’s words. “No- you don’t understand!-” he spoke, eyes opening, only to be met with Viktor’s lifeless expression. “You don’t understand him like i do- he isn’t- he wouldn’t just..Just…” His voice was wavering, getting smaller and smaller until he was practically mumbling the words to himself, glaring down at Viktor’s face with horror.
“Jayce..” He could hear her take a step closer, but he kept his head down, gaze staying on Viktor. “I have to get to the lab..” he murmured, sniffing and blinking away his tears, shifting his feet against the rubble.
Mel parted her lips to say something, glaring at Jayce with wide eyes, before she eventually sighed, stopping whatever she was about to say, looking at him with a sad understanding. She knew how it felt to lose somebody close to you, and she knew just how close the two were. She was aware of the fact Viktor was dead, she could tell from merely glancing at him alone, but Jayce..he seemed to believe otherwise. So, with some hesitation, she spoke, “Okay.”
He turned to her, “What?”
“You may go,” she said with a nod, “I won’t stop you.”
Upon hearing those words, he wastes no time and runs.
Runs.