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Viktor's room is directly across from Jayce’s. Their apartment windows face each other, across the narrow alleyway, close enough to pass a note if you folded it just right and aimed well. It wasn’t planned, they didn’t even know each other when they moved in.
Most nights, Viktor finds himself at his desk, textbooks open, coffee gone cold, pen forgotten in his hand. Because Jayce's light is always on. And Viktor always looks.
Tonight, Jayce is pacing his room. Viktor knows he’s probably thinking about his girlfriend. Lately, they had been having trouble. And Jayce had been stressed about that. She does not understand Jayce's eccentricities, his heart that loves too freely and wholly.
Viktor knows Jayce's heart better than anyone.
Jayce throws himself onto his bed dramatically and pulls out his phone. He frowns at the screen, types something. Viktor watches, chest aching. Then Jayce turns away from Viktor, hiding his face.
Disappointment curls in Viktor's stomach. He drops his gaze to the notebook in his lap, full of crossed-out phrases and half-poems. He bites his lip, then closes the notebook gently.
He’s not bitter. Not really. Just… tired. Of watching Jayce fall for people who love the idea of him, not the whole messy, golden, loud-hearted truth.
Jayce once said Viktor was the most brilliant person he knew. That was before the girlfriend. Before Viktor’s heart started bruising every time Jayce said her name like it was sacred.
A knock pulls Viktor out of his thoughts. Three taps. He freezes.
The knock again.
Jayce?
He opens the window slowly, heart stuttering.
Jayce is leaning out of his window, hoodie half-off his shoulder, hair tousled, eyes bright.
“Hey,” Jayce says, breathless. “You busy?”
Viktor shakes his head.
“Can I come inside?” Jayce says. “Please. She… She broke up with me….”
Viktor swallows, and nods.
Jayce climbs inside, before Viktor could even verbally consent to it.
_ - _ - _ - _
Jayce has been inside Viktor’s room often. It’s familiar in a way that makes Viktor’s chest tighten. He’s imagined too many things with Jayce in his room. But not this. Not Jayce pacing like he’s unraveling at the seams.
“She said I’m too much,” Jayce mutters, voice low. “Too clingy. Too… passionate.” A bitter laugh escapes him.
Viktor watches him from the bed, heart already slipping out of its quiet place in his chest. “You are,” he says, after a pause. “But… that’s not a bad thing.”
Jayce stops mid-step, turning to face him. His eyes are tired, puffy like he’d been crying but tried to hide it. “You always say that,” he says, not unkindly. “You say the things I want to believe.”
Viktor forces a breath. “Maybe you should start believing them.”
Silence. Not heavy, but stretched, pulled tight like a string between them. One tug, and it’ll snap.
Jayce looks at him then. Really looks. Like he’s seeing Viktor not as the boy next door, not as the friend who always listens, but as something else entirely. Something fragile and terrifying and real.
Jayce lets out a breath, like he’s been carrying something too heavy for too long. “You always saw me, didn’t you? When no one else really did.”
Viktor swallows, eyes flicking to the side. “It’s not difficult,” he says. “You’re… hard to miss.”
Jayce chuckles, but it fades quickly. “No, I mean… really saw me. Not the golden boy, not the poster child. Just... me.”
There’s a pause. Viktor doesn’t speak right away. The quiet stretches, thick with the weight of things unsaid. He shifts slightly, fingers fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve.
“I did see you,” he says, finally, voice softer than before. “Didn’t I?”
Jayce stares at him, then decides to come sit beside Viktor on his bed, close and warm.
“Why did you?” He asked quietly.
Viktor’s mouth twitches like he’s about to make a joke, but nothing comes. Instead, he looks down at their hands, close, almost brushing, and says, “Because I could not look away.”
Jayce freezes.
He doesn’t ask for clarity. He doesn’t need to.
And maybe that’s what gives Viktor the courage to look up and meet his gaze.
“I never said anything,” Viktor continues, “Because you were happy. Or I thought you were. I didn’t want to ruin something good just because of my selfishness.”
Jayce takes a breath, slow and shaking. “She was good. But it wasn’t good for me.”
Then, he closes the last inch of space between them. His hand finds Viktor’s, gentle, tentative, like he's asking.
Viktor doesn’t move away.
Jayce leans in, his forehead brushing Viktor’s. “I’m here now,” he whispers. “If you’ll have me.”
Viktor, for once, lets himself believe that maybe this isn't a cruel dream. “Just stay with me,” he murmurs, “It’s enough if you just stay with me.”
Jayce reaches for his hand, fingers curling around Viktor’s like a vow. He leans in slowly, giving Viktor time to pull away.
He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.
Their lips meet in a kiss that’s slow, warm, and a little shaky, like a question asked and finally, finally answered.
Jayce presses his forehead against Viktor’s.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
_ - _ - _ - _
fin