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-=-= VIKTOR =-=-
An invasive breeze forced icy air into otherwise warm room, waking Viktor to a slow, curling cold. His cheeks and nose are timidly dusted with pink already. The cold liked to bite his skin, and yet, even in the winter, his window remained cracked — habits surely left over from living in Zaun's disastrous housing, where suffocation is too easy a fate in brutalized buildings with narrow staircases; they were almost as much a fire hazard as the actual apartments.
Viktor, exhausted already, sat up, baring his chest to the sharp wind with a wince, swiftly supporting his weight on his left arm. He shimmied to the edge of the bed and grasped the installed railing above his nightstand. It is a small, pitiful thing his neighbor — the enigmatic, rosy-cheeked Zaunite Dana Kovarova — had given him when he moved into the building. She claimed it was a necessary tradition to gift your new neighbours things, as they so rarely move into the apartments. That and she had just bought a new one. Viktor assumed she saw the pathetic amount of furniture he had moved in and decided to take pity on him. The thought filled him with a long-suffering frustration. Though she had never looked at him with pity as far as he was aware, and perhaps he was projecting expectations on her.
His right hip joint crackled when he extended a hand towards the wall, causing a sharp jolt of pain that made his lithe leg twitch aggressively. His grip slipped off the railing, causing excess pressure on the joint, suddenly sending a second shard of pain to shatter his rib cage, surge behind his heart and lungs, shooting directly into the middle of his spine. Viktor took in a sharp breath, stunned by how consistently his body betrayed him, time and time again. One would think he'd be more practiced in these moments of painful intrusion.
‘Breathe.’ He could hear his mother say, ‘in and out. Good. Again. In and out.’ He rode the wave of shock over then planted his good leg on the floor and forced himself to stand up. Viktor shuffled forward until he plopped down on the chair next to his wardrobe with a satisfied grunt, taking clothing out of the lowered dresser. Viktor made a point to never get dressed in bed. It felt too significant that he could still haul himself out of his bed without interference from a third party. An important piece of autonomy in this degenerating body.
Once he managed to adorn pants and socks, he had to fight his spine and brace to get his shoes tied. While flexible, the bend was more than he was truly capable of this morning. Wrestling with the knots of his shoes was not on the morning routine. Finally, knot-tied and looped, Viktor opted to wear the bulkier external brace with stiffer joints. If that initial shock of pain was an indication of how today was going to go, he knew he needed more support than usual. This meant he was already mentally preparing for Jayce’s ridiculous commentary about the state of the older brace. “I can make you a better one, V.” - “Let me tinker with the design and find something that can support you properly.” - “Please, Viktor. I’m bored out of my mind with nothing to do right now, at this point we’re just waiting for the pieces from Zaun to come in, I bet I could have a new brace built by the end of the week and it won’t cut into our lab time.” On the verge of begging for a chance to improve his situation.
“Preposterous.” Viktor scoffed aloud and fanned his hand in front of his face, as if it waved away the hypothetical words from a hypothetical Jayce, and maneuvered the straps and gears until his leg was realigned. ‘Bruises were worth the support’, so he repeated in his head. Viktor forced himself to palm the metal railing embedded into the wall and prepared to stand once again. He hauled up with some difficulty shaking out the sting of pressure on his atrophied leg, perhaps the chair was too low. Perhaps it was time to bite the bullet and get a new, better suited chair. That internal argument could wait until tomorrow.
Viktor grunted again with the exertion of lifting then crossed to his standing rack, unhooking and dawning the brown striped shirt he was so fond of then shrugged on his academy vest and tied his cravat into a knot, neatly smoothing the collar over.
It was then that he gave an inclined glance towards the window, the curtain was peaking open with wind whipping at the corners, trying to invade his space further. The cold seeped in and rotted the warmth of the room, but the assurance of not suffocating to death was worth the temporary burn. Viktor grabbed his crutch and crossed the room, the tapping of his support device the only noise breaking the eerie silence in his apartment, even the internal copper piping was quiet for once. Viktor slipped the window closed, and drew the curtains.
Snow.
It suddenly became apparent that he’s going to have to fetch Jayce from his apartment if he wants to get any work done in the Lab, which means an extra 20 minute walk in the icy cobblestone paths. Viktor let out a concerned noise on instinct, knowing how this situation is going to go. It happened every year when it snowed. Jayce’s childhood trauma colouring his perception of winter, the fear in his eyes, the dissociated expression when stepping into the lobby. While Viktor understood the circumstances and knew he had no way to enhance the healing process, he always wished he could do more. The back and forth was the same every time.
—
Viktor would coax Jayce into opening his front door.
Viktor would sit with Jayce and hold his hand until he stops shaking.
Jayce would try to wrap Viktor in more layers than he could carry.
Viktor would let him until he finally came back to himself, embarrassed by the outburst and undressed the excess layers. (Viktor would always keep the scarf, however.)
Viktor would convince him to leave his apartment, and spend 10 minutes convincing Jayce that Ximena was safe in her home, and that he was safe and not going to die from exposure.
Viktor would give him the thermos to drink on the way there so his internal temperature would maintain a stable warmth.
"No", Jayce would say, "no I can't do it. I can't handle the snow. I just can't."
"You can, Jayce." Viktor speaks with a gentle tone, "you can face it with me. You may hold my hand on the way to the lab, a reminder that I am right there beside you and safe."
They would begin their trek to the Lab, Jayce trailing behind, hand locked on Viktor's. Viktor always took the lead, they found this to be the best outcome so Jayce could focus on drinking the sweetmilk and breathing.
—
Viktor had become accustomed to the back and forth nature of handling snow, and had it regardless of his feelings about the circumstance, because it helped Jayce calm down every time.
Viktor left his room, entering into an open floor plan, straight to the kitchenette as he did every morning. He took his medicine, made himself a cup of sweetmilk then put the extra in a thermos for Jayce. Something to help keep Jayce warm on this walk to the lab and eventually back the apartment. Viktor ate some rohlík with some slices of allegedly still in date cheese and called breakfast complete.
Whatever betrayal he felt from his body would have to wait. Jayce needed him, and he'd never let his partner down, even on days where his body failed him, even today.
-=-= JAYCE =-=-
The nature of being a living furnace means sometimes even the thinnest of blankets can cause you to sweat. This was true of Jayce Talis. No matter what type of cover he attempted to use, he always woke up overheated. So much so that sometimes he slept on top of his comforter. Jayce groaned and dragged himself from the wide bed and stumbled into the bathroom.
A mirror hangs above a pristine sink attached to a medical cabinet that hangs on the wall. Jayce opens the medical cabinet and takes his vitamins, then undresses and loads the tan hamper with his night clothes. He turns the shower on and allows the water to warm before stepping into the glass case and scrubbing himself clean. The process was simple: exfoliate, soap, exfoliate again, facial cleaner, sugar scrub, shampoo (which smelled like musk), and conditioner (which smelled like pine).
Once thoroughly combed clean, he stopped the water, got out and dried up. Next step: hair. Jayce returned to the hanging mirror-cabinet and grabbed a hairdryer and comb. He meticulously brushed and sculpted his hair to be that suave curve, traditional of the Man of Progress' appearance. Jayce smiled tightly at his appearance, never completely satisfied, but decided not to fight this one. A battle he rarely ever won.
Jayce exited the bathroom and returned to his room where he quickly dressed in his House Talis coloured clothing. He knew it was cold today, he could feel it from the poorly insulated window, which was still covered by a thick blackout curtain. Jayce, deciding to make sure he didn't need to wear his boots, strides to the wall and checks the weather.
To his complete dismay and utter shock, there is at least 3 inches of snow built up on the ground, and at least 4 inches of snow on his window sill. Jayce's heart rate shot up so quickly that he felt dizzy and clammy. He let the curtain go and stumbled back to his bed, sitting down with his hands clenching and releasing, seeking purchase on an invisible comfort. "It's just snow, Jayce. You can do this. You're a functional adult. You are not a child, there is nothing to be afraid of, this is stupid." His shaking voice argued with these spoken affirmations.
Jayce knew he wouldn't make it to the lab without help, but he was so petrified at the moment that he had no idea how to reach out to Viktor safely, or if Viktor would even be willing to help him — No that's stupid, of course Viktor would help him. He did every year.
—
Jayce fabricated Viktor a key to his apartment, for emergencies, of course.
Jayce would make sure Viktor is always warm, always safe. Perhaps too much so, then apologise and remove the extra layers, though Viktor seemed amused at his attempts to help.
Jayce would have a panic attack upon seeing the snow, thinking he needs to find his mother, she needs to be safe. Viktor could always convince him to be calm.
Jayce would take the sweetmilk thermos and hold it like it was a precious offering. A balm for his frayed nerves.
Jayce would see the snow again and start to shutdown. Viktor was excellent at pulling him back up.
Eventually, he would hold Viktor's hand and stare at his feet while they walked, focusing on his breathing.
—
But Jayce waited, and waited, and his breathing became more shallow, and it felt like darkness encroached on his eyes. The thought of being lost in the snow, of Viktor being lost in the snow, of Ximena being lost in the snow, terrified him to his core. Jayce made a decision with the adrenaline pumping through his system and got up, his muscles protesting at the action's swiftness, and rushed to the door. He stood, petrified, hand on the handle, ready to rush out, if he could just get past this threshold, he knows he could do it.
"Just do it, Talis. Stop being afraid of the snow. It's just snow." Jayce ground his teeth and unlocked the front door, swinging the door open. To his delight and shock, Viktor stood at the door with his key in his hand, as if he was preparing to unlock Jayce's apartment door. Viktor looked surprised the door opened on it's own.
"Viktor!" Jayce gasped and forcefully pulled him into a broad hug. "Oh Janna, you're so cold!" Breaking the hug, a hand now rested on Viktor's lower back, guiding him into the warm apartment. Here, Jayce began the ritual. He rushed to his coat closet and took out the perfectly sized black puffy coat he always put Viktor in, he grabbed the dark green scarf, and matching hat and gloves. His frantic mind desperate to warm Viktor up. Jayce helped him dawn the attire.
Viktor hadn't said a word so far but simply allowed himself to be covered, even if it was excessive, he knew it wouldn't last long.
"You must be freezing." Jayce kicked the front door shut, quickly darting into the kitchen to start the kettle before returning to Viktor's side. "Are you safe? Why are you here so early?" Viktor stayed in the foyer until Jayce returned and walked him to the living room couch. An old — but friendly — deep red piece of furniture, with firm, taut cushions, infrequently used. When they stayed in Jayce's apartment overnight together, they pushed the couch to the wall, a quick way to make room for work.
"Where were you heading, Jayce?" Viktor calmly spoke, a measured and even, if somewhat amused, tone.
"I- I was coming to check on you. It's…. it's snowing so I-… well, I-" His words failed him as his throat seemed to close around them, dread settling somewhere in his chest.
"Do I not come to pick you up every day that it is snowing?" A gloved hand came out and took Jayce's, intertwining their fingers. "Breathe with me, Jayce."
So he did. In, slowly, out, a little harshly. A force to center the neurological response of panic to snow.
After a few minutes of breathing exercises, Jayce made them sit on the red beast, until the kettle screeched. Jayce was pulled out of his panic, finally, and apologised profusely, helping Viktor shed the extra layers (except the scarf). Viktor kindly told him he could put the clothing away, and told Jayce to go make his tea. Jayce kindly made both of them a cup of Darjeeling tea. A splash of honey for him, and a mountain of sugar for Viktor. A moment too long passed and Viktor called out his name. Drawn from the fog once again, Jayce returned and passed Viktor the warm stoneware cup. Viktor remarked that it is always a nice treat to have tea with Jayce, Viktor didn't make it often at home, but soothing Jayce's fears gave him a wealth of patience he didn't have for other things. As many moments as Jayce needed.
They sat together in silence, drinking their tea until finally Jayce broke it. "I- uh. I-..Thank you for being here." He finally says, "I'd be lost without you, Vik. You must know how much it means to me that you come here for me."
Viktor sat his tea cup on the dark-stained coffee table in front of him, resting it on a blue and gold coaster, then reached a hand out, placing it on Jayce's forearm. "I made you a promise that I would be there for you, just as you promised you would be here for me. That means through the good and the bad. I do not shirk my obligations. I take promises very seriously, which is why I rarely make them."
Jayce's throat tightened again and his eyes grew hazy, welling with tears pricking the corners of his eyes. "It. You've just- I mean it. You really are the best thing to ever to happen me." Jayce didn't trust his voice any more with the tears threatening to overflow.
Viktor's expression shifted into something softer, an expression Jayce was not familiar with. He knocked their knees together, and invaded Jayce's space, then carefully, as if guiding a startled creature, wrapped his slender arms underneath Jayce's arms, pulling him in for a gentle embrace.
It was a so rare that Viktor initiated contact. Something he's only ever done about 6 times in the last 2 years, not including the forearm touch just now. But this was new, this was not a touch on the shoulder, or a hand on the arm for attention. This was a shield. Jayce slipped arms around Viktor's shoulders and buried his face in the crevice of his neck. He shuddered, holding back that wrecked sound as he is embraced by Viktor.
"I know your worries, Jayce." Viktor began, "I can feel your concern. It is appreciated, but I promise unnecessary. I am safe and warm. You are safe and warm. Ximena is safe and warm. Uh-uh, don't argue." Viktor squeezed Jayce, "she is in her home, she is safe and warm. You are not stuck in that endless stream of blizzard and snow. We are alright."
Jayce took a deep, heaving breath, before Jayce finally pulled back and rubbed the tears away with his palm. Viktor allowed him to engage as long as he needed. "You didn't have to do that."
Viktor, once released, looked at Jayce with a gentle expression, morphing into a slightly knowing curled smile. "I know how much you value touch and I am — eh — not so good at expressing my affection with touch, you know that I prefer to do and say things for my partner; but I am getting better at it, for you."
Jayce's expression shifted into something kind and earnest. An expression Viktor had committed to memory by this point: Jayce made this face when he was looking at something he loved. Viktor often caught Jayce staring at him with that expression.
"We need to go to the lab." Viktor finally said, breaking Jayce's enthralled mind. "Come, Jayce. We will get there together. I promise."
Jayce's hand found it's way to Viktor's back again, adding support for him to stand from the couch. Viktor didn't argue about it this time. "Jayce," Viktor pulled the thermos out of his shoulder bag and gave it to Jayce. "Sweetmilk for the journey." He didn't wait for Jayce to respond and simply left for the door, heading out of the apartment.
Jayce quickly suited up: gloves? check, scarf? check, hat and jacket? check.
Viktor held a hand out once Jayce caught up and led him to the elevator, riding it to the ground floor. The main lobby's open room was vaguely cold, the doorman greeting a couple as they left, now saw Jayce and Viktor and smiled politely at them both. He remarked that they finally convinced corporate to clean the piled snow in front of the apartment building and managed to also get the sidewalks salted. As soon as the door attendant opened the front door for them, a brush of icy wind hit Jayce and Viktor, and Jayce began to shutdown again.
Viktor pulled him aside and cupped his face, forcing Jayce to look at him, despite beginning to appear hazy once again. "You are safe. You are not in the mountain pass. You can face the snow, you are not stuck." He affirmed.
"I can't. I can't do it. I can't face the snow."
Viktor only smiled. "You can. You have me. I am safe, you are safe, Ximena is safe. It is a 20 minute walk to the lab. You will drink your sweetmilk, and hold my hand while we walk, and we will make it to the lab, perhaps slipping once or twice on the ice. At least I know you will."
That made Jayce faintly smile, Viktor knew he was saying the right things.
"You can get through the snow, you have me. I am not going anywhere, and will be with you the whole way. You may hold my hand on the way to the lab, a reminder that I am right there beside you and safe." He reaffirmed.
Jayce's expression told Viktor everything. He pulled Jayce once more into a hug, shifting his body so Jayce's arms surrounded his shoulders, and closed his eyes, listening to the rapid pulse of his anxiety-influenced heartbeat. Viktor's left hand moved up to gently cup his neck underneath the scarf. Jayce physically shivered and audibly gasped at Viktor's radically cold hand.
This hug was significantly shorter than the last, but was grounding enough to break the fog Jayce had been slipping into.
"Yeah." Jayce whispered. "I-I want to try."
That was all he needed to know. Viktor grabbed his hand and started for the door, Jayce hesitantly following behind him. The doorman greeted them again and opened the door to frost and bitterness. Jayce tensed but remained close, still holding Viktor's hand. He twisted open the sweetmilk's cap and sipped on it. Despite the many layers he wore, it was the drink that warmed his core. He took another sip then screwed the lid shut, and returned his gaze to their hands while they walked. A slower pace, with Viktor being protective of his steps.
Maybe he'd make it. Maybe he'd be safe with Viktor. Maybe they'd get to the lab safely and maybe even get home safely. Thanks to Viktor.
That thought warmed his heart, and flushed his cheeks and the tips of his already red ears. Thanks to Viktor.