Archive of Our Own

Viktor usually doesn’t need much space.

Jayce is as tactile as they come; the man has an innate human drawl to his actions, puppeting him right next to the closest warm body in the room like a magnet. He doesn’t hesitate in sharing personal space, staring over Viktor’s shoulder while they look over notes or taking a spot right next to Caitlyn in a room full of people.

He is, in short, clingy.

But he’s never been this clingy.

Viktor has been awake for four hours already, and he doesn’t think Jayce has stepped out of the room once. Which would be fine, but instead of doing his share of their records that they seem to be days behind on somehow, or organizing their timelog like he said he would days ago, he seems to be... stuck. Fixated. Unfortunately for Viktor, Jayce’s object of focus is none other than his own being.

It’s been a hindrance, really.

Viktor sighs for the third time that hour and drops his pen in favor of reaching for his crutch. He feels a brewing migraine, hand cramping from his cross calculations as he stares at the Hexcore in front of him, like a curse. His eyes need a break, but when he turns around, he’s met by another, different glow.

Jayce doesn’t break eye contact as Viktor sets his crutch up to stand. He pushes himself up and feels a wobble for just a fraction before he settles, but it’s too late. Jayce, in the time it took him to move, has already crossed the distance between them and is hovering tense arms under Viktor’s armpits.

“Careful,” he murmurs, staring wearily at Viktor’s body. “Why don’t you keep sitting down? I’ll get you whatever you need.”

Viktor scowls. Jayce has been babying him ever since his prognosis, but this is a new level. It’s like something snapped in him overnight. The concern in his eyes is new—terrifying and untrustworthy. Like Jayce thinks he’s going to shatter apart in front of him in a blink of his eye.

Viktor doesn’t push it. Everyone deals with bad news in different ways. He just shrugs and pushes Jayce’s arms away with his free hand. “I am simply going to sit elsewhere. No need to be an errand boy.”

He takes another step, and then a few more. Like he always has. But Jayce—Jayce is following him every step of the way, not letting up on looming over him, hands extended and ready to catch his ashes. Viktor tsks quietly and moves to the couch.

“We are behind,” he says half-bitterly, directed at Jayce’s face. The man seems to blink himself out of some sort of daze, looking behind him at the mess Viktor’s been dealing with, alone, for the past few days. 

“I—I’m sorry, Viktor. My duties on the council... and with the stolen gemstone, I’ve just been—”

“No worries. You do not have to explain yourself.” Viktor points at the desk next to the Hexcore with his crutch, covered in a mess of papers and broken lead. “But it would help if my partner was not so distracted while in the lab."

Jayce winces. “I know. I’ll get to it, we have all of today, I can sit and work on it as soon as I—”

Viktor stands again, and Jayce interrupts himself to dive into his personal space. Viktor quirks an eyebrow and sighs, exasperated. He stares Jayce down, meeting the concerned and hyper-focused look in his eyes. He takes another step and watches Jayce flinch.

And, maybe it’s a little cruel, but when it comes to testing a theory, Viktor is thorough. So, he temporarily drops his crutch down and feels his leg wobble under the lack of support for just a moment. Before he can do anything, Jayce’s hands are at his arms, holding up the entirety of his weight like he’s made of paper, huffing gently like he was holding his breath.

Viktor looks at him, unimpressed.

“I do not think you have it in you to focus today, if you plan on nursemaiding me in this manner for the rest of the day.”

Jayce looks like a wet dog with the guilty look he gives Viktor, and he puts him down gently. “Well, just—you have to be more careful. Last time you were alone in the lab, you practically collapsed, and I...”

There’s something unspoken and unsaid every time Jayce doesn’t finish his sentence. Viktor has to wrack his mind for something, anything that could be making Jayce so paranoid. It’s been a few days since that incident and despite his declining health, Viktor hasn’t had any mishaps since. Jayce’s paranoia goes beyond the surface-level worry he has.

And he knows that, because when lunch rolls around, Jayce just gets closer and closer. 

It starts when he brings in their sandwiches, balancing two plates in front of him and a cup in the other hand. “Here, I also brought you some juice,” he says, placing down the meal in front of him. Viktor expects his usual two-cut meal, but instead is greeted by an entire platter of different fruits and snacks next to his sandwich. Not to mention the overflowing cup of juice that seems to have already spilled a bit on the way over.

“Jayce,” he says tartly. “There is no way I will be able to eat all of this.” He turns back to the Hexcore and continues copying down his tried equations. 

“You should! Here, I’ll cut up some of the fruit for you,” Jayce insists. “I’ll eat with you.”

Viktor directs his gaze to Jayce’s plate, half the size of his own. He sighs, rolling his eyes and returning to his work. “I will get sick, eating so much. You know this. The efforts are appreciated but not needed.”

But Jayce is adamant. Despite Viktor’s protests, he sits down next to the man and begins eating his sandwich, watching hard every time Viktor picks his up to eat. It’s uncomfortable, the way Jayce’s eyes trace his jugular as he swallows, like he’s going to asphyxiate at any moment. Still, he stays quiet, trying his hardest to focus on the work in front of him to no avail. With defeat, he closes the notebook in front of him and tries his hardest to finish his food with the sick knowledge that he’s only falling further behind.

It comes up again a little while later, when Viktor finally confronts the still-unorganized mess on the desk opposite him, standing to find a specific paper that he wrote a rough timesheet on. As he starts rummaging around, Jayce stops whatever he’s doing on the other side of the room and comes over with a quick, quiet “wait, I can do that!”

Viktor knows this is another recipe for disaster. “No, no, Jayce, I am simply looking for a sheet of paper.”

The man doesn’t listen, though. Jayce shoos his hands away and instantly starts organizing all the clutter, sweeping stacks of papers into his hands with a newfound fervor and separating them by date and content. Viktor sighs and watches him, standing for the three or so minutes it takes him to sort through the files. When he finally finishes and goes to focus on the pens and pencils scattered around, Viktor approaches the table again and the neat stacks in front of him.

He frowns when he notices that they’re all in former-to-recent order instead of recent-to-former. He has to start at the back to find his paper from just two days ago, and instead of being able to use two hands to hold the stack and work backwards, he has to spread them back out on the table to see. All of Jayce’s effort has gone to waste in favor of his own, and Viktor has to bite back bitterness in his throat at the thought. 

As the sun sets closer and closer to the horizon, the fluorescent lights take over their workspace, and Viktor finds himself still hunched over his journal. He hasn’t made much progress, but he’s at least caught up on the missed work from being out, and his schedule is just slightly catching up to him. He’s finally had some alone time since Jayce departed shortly for councilor duties, and he’s never been so relieved to be alone.

Of course, it doesn’t last long. Viktor comes back from the bathroom with a glass of water and his medicine in one hand with just enough time to see Jayce rush into his face and grab his arms. “Viktor!” he says half a decibel too loud, grip so tight Viktor can feel himself bruising. “Are you okay? I got back and you weren’t here. Oh! Let me take your water.”

Before Viktor can react, Jayce grabs the cup in his unoccupied hand; with the movement, he jostles Viktor’s pills, which tumble to the ground with a near-silent clatter.

Jayce’s head flicks down to see them, and Viktor just stares blankly at the floor before a surge of energy overtakes him. He grips his crutch tighter and has to prevent himself from snarling when he opens his mouth. “ Jayce.”

“Viktor, I’m sorry—”

“No! None of that.” Viktor shoves past him and limps to his chair, patience worn and tired. “I do not know what has been going on with you all day, but this—your—this behaviour is simply,” he takes a breath, at a loss for words amidst his anger, “it’s hindering everything! What has been going on with you?”

He stands back up, too restless to keep sitting, and to add fuel to the fire, Jayce’s body flinches forward to support him again. Viktor slaps his hand away before he can think straight. “And this!” he starts, fully out of control at this point, “this game of volley you have been playing with my body! Enough of it! I cannot walk around without you diving like a fish to grab me. You have been obsessive today. More so than usual! You are letting your paranoia get in the way of our work. I am already days behind and you have—what?—made me food platters I cannot eat and have disrupted my work continuously for your personal anxiety balm?”

“Viktor,” Jayce whispers, voice breaking and cracking like a cacophonous squeaker. “That’s not fair—that’s not what this is about...”

“Oh? Then enlighten me, my dear Jayce, what in any realm could this fussing about possibly be useful for?” Viktor spits out sarcastically. He sits back down and Jayce takes a step away. Only when he’s across from him does Viktor see the way his thumb rubs over the bracelet on his wrist.

Maybe he was too harsh. Before he can apologize, though, Jayce levels him with a determined, anxious look in his eyes.

“I touched the Hexcore.”

Viktor’s eyes widen. He expected some sort of weird confession, but not... not that. 

“You touched it?”

“Yes.”

“The Hexcore?”

“Yes.”

“...Okay? And?” he says, expectantly. Despite the unknowns of the current technology, Jayce and Viktor have spent plenty of time exposed to and exploring the Hextech. It shouldn’t be anything new to either of them. Unless...

“And... and I saw something. With it. Because of it.”

Viktor furrows his brows. “You saw something?”

“Viktor,” Jayce sighs, breaking eye contact and staring hard at his feet. “Repeating what I’m saying isn’t helping the conversation here.”

“Maybe if you would get on with your new discoveries I would not need prompt you with words,” Viktor bites snarkily.

“I’m trying!”

“Fine, fine,” Viktor caves, motioning with his hand for Jayce to continue.

“When I touched it, something happened that’s never happened before. I suddenly... well, for just a moment, there was nothing. And then I was on the floor, and I—I felt it.”

Viktor stares at Jayce with an incredulous look. “Felt what?” he finally urges. It’s like egging on a deer to a gun, at this point.

“I felt you.”

“You what—” Viktor starts, eyes wide and confused, but Jayce leaps forward to continue.

“No, I mean! I mean... I mean I felt everything. Everything that you feel. For just a minute, maybe like, fifty seconds, there was just this—everything was bright and all I could feel was this pain throughout my body. Like I was under water, deep water, and I couldn’t move, and all I could see through the light was these flickers of you. And everytime I tried to move my body would explode and I just—it was the first time I ever understood it and I had no idea what to do with myself, Viktor, you are always downplaying how you feel, why haven’t you told me it was so bad? How—how do you do this every day? I can’t shake the feeling off, I can’t even imagine what—”

Viktor sticks his crutch out and catches Jayce’s foot. He had started pacing, not even realizing the way he was rubbing his callous dry on his thumb from his wrist, his other hand in his hair tugging and pulling as he rambled. He nearly trips, but catches himself and looks back at Viktor with an expression that Viktor hasn’t seen in the man since the first time they met.

Jayce’s eyes nearly well over with the pure reflection of fear.

Everything in Viktor’s body falls limp for the first time that day, and he has to will himself to stand up in the face of what Jayce has just told him. With great effort, he pushes himself up and crosses the distance to Jayce, who now has his head in his hands, hiding his face. Viktor stands in front of him for a moment, regarding the sight of his partner fighting something greater than him, and he pushes himself into the man’s chest for a hug.

Jayce hesitates for only a moment, but then Viktor feels his arms settle around his back, Jayce shoving his face tight into the bony crook of his neck, head hung low. Viktor brings his hand up to pat at his head gently.

“Jayce...” he starts wearily, unsure on how to approach this. He’s never felt so conflicted and confused, never so blind. He always knows solutions, he knows how to solve equations, and when something goes awry, he fixes it. But this—this, he doesn’t think he can fix. “Jayce, I need you to understand something.”

Despite the slight wave of nausea he feels standing under Jayce’s weight, he manages to keep them both upright, elbow digging into his crutch. 

“Whatever... whatever it is that the Hexcore made you feel or experience, it was just temporary. Your body... you have been healthy for your entire life. It is natural that when you feel this type of pain, it feels overwhelming. But I, Jayce—I have been like this. Forever. I know what it feels like. I know how to manage it. And, yes, while I am slowly decaying, more and more, I am... I am still capable of moving. Of being alive. You have to understand this. I am... used to how it feels. It is no more extraneous for me than it has been for the past thirty years of my life.”

Jayce peels his face from Viktor’s neck so slowly that it seems painful. Viktor uses the freedom to move to get himself back to his chair, and as he sits, Jayce follows on his heels, sitting in front of him on his knees. Viktor, at this angle of the light, can see the faint tear tracks tracing Jayce’s face, down his cheekbones and to the dip of his jugular notch, where they’ve pooled and evaporated.

Jayce, close enough to do so now, rests his head against Viktor’s good knee. Even—especially—in times like these, does his tactile attachment come through. Viktor looks down, face sore and head aching from how deep his brows are furrowed, and begins gently running his fingers through Jayce’s hair.

“I want to help,” Jayce says, weaker than any words he’s spoken before. He sounds like a shell of himself. Gone is the Man of Progress, the new councilor of Piltover; now, he is simply broken down.  “I’ve been negligent. I’ve pushed you to your limits with Hextech. I’ve made us stay here hours after sundown when you’ve probably wanted nothing more than to rest. I’ve strained you. I just want to... I want to make up for that. I want to make it go away.”

His voice breaks again, and Viktor feels new, fresh tears spring across the fabric of his pants, over the nerves of his knee like a supernova. 

“I want to make it go away,” he repeats. “I don’t want you to hurt like this anymore.”

Defeat overwhelms every facet of his body. Viktor can barely look at the man now, so desperate to do something they both know is impossible. Jayce can’t save his life. He can hardly do a thing to save his own, and instead of making progress with the Hexcore, all it’s doing is destroying both of them, physically and mentally.

Viktor drops his crutch and uses both hands to pull Jayce’s head from his lap. The man’s face is streaked with tears and a small line of snot from his nose. Viktor pulls out his handkerchief and wipes it away before hunching over into his form.  

“There is nothing we can do,” Viktor finally says. “We can only let the days pass. We can only do our work and make the change we want to see before this becomes bigger than us. I am dying, but I am not dead, Jayce. The sun will rise every day following this moment, and we will burn chasing it.”

Jayce stares at him, tears still spilling over, as a new kind of realization dawns upon him at Viktor’s words. His eyes shine with trepidation, but Viktor can feel the slow cadence of his nod taking form in his hands, until Jayce is swaying with agreement. He places a hand on the base of the rolling stool and uses what looks to be all his weight to rise from his heels and onto his knees, properly.

Viktor doesn’t move away. He can’t when Jayce is still piercing him with a hopeless gaze, mouth slightly agape and lower lip trembling ever so slightly. If they weren’t so close, no one would be able to tell. But Viktor knows the subtleties. He’s worked with this man for too long, has seen him in dark and light hours that bring him to his bare necessities and instincts. 

He supposes he knows most of them, but it doesn’t change how his heart clamors at his cage when he leans forward the rest of the way, and Jayce’s lips meet his. They’re damp from where Jayce has been worrying them between his teeth. His breath is shaky from his nose where it rests next to Viktor’s. His eyelids hover half-closed, like he’s spellbound, unable to look away. 

Most importantly, Viktor’s hands stay exactly where they are, his cheeks soft as ever under his fingertips. Years of hard labor on his hands and arms, on his feet and legs, have yet to corrupt the boyish features of Jayce’s face. Age and abnormality has had no effect on his cheekbones, where Viktor’s thumb traces down, swiping tears from the rivers in his pores. 

Jayce pulls back, and it really might have been only a second’s kiss. It might have been a dream, or just Jayce’s words creating an illusion, but Viktor knows it’s all untrue when he looks back at him again. They stay silent. If he listens hard enough, he can feel Jayce’s heartbeat in his face, beneath his eyes and over the swell of his cupid’s bow. 

Jayce leans in and kisses his cheek, tender. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do without you,” he says, broken.

“Jayce,” Viktor starts. And where his voice is the one thing he has not lost to his health, where his vocal cords are stronger than any part of his mortal body—it is shaking now, too. “The world will spin. All we can do is spin with it.”