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Jayce is the type of person who, once he notices something, he really starts noticing it.
It’s quite ironic, really. As a scientist, he’s supposed to keep track of every equation and variable that might solve whatever question he’s wrestling with. And as a blacksmith, he grew up learning to catch the smallest imperfections in the metal he hammered. You’d think someone like that wouldn’t miss much.
Which is why he starts doubting himself a little when he realizes he never noticed the way Viktor’s mouth crinkles just a bit when he’s happy.
Not a full smile or anything. Just a tiny crease at the corner of his mouth.
It happened on a random afternoon while they were both working on their own projects in their cramped office. They’d been quiet for a while when Viktor suddenly let out a heavy sigh, breaking the silence. Jayce turned and asked what was wrong.
Viktor glanced over and said, very casually, “I finally got it.”
And that’s when Jayce saw it. The little crinkle at the corner of his mouth.
It was weirdly mesmerizing, and honestly a bit surprising that he’d never noticed it before, especially after working together for two years.
It was… endearing?
That was the first word that came to Jayce’s mind, for reasons he didn’t quite understand.
Viktor usually seems so focused, so absorbed in whatever he’s doing, that it sometimes feels like he’s miles away: quiet, distant, almost mechanical. Jayce can’t really blame him; he gets caught up in his own work just as much.
But when Viktor smiled like that, even just a little, it felt like he was finally here. With Jayce. Present, real.
Human.
-----
Then he starts noticing Viktor’s eyes, which is strange, because before this, he never really thought much about them at all.
But when Viktor looks at him with those brown eyes: bright, intent, focused entirely on Jayce, and it does something to him.
It makes Jayce squirm.
Maybe it’s just the way that one single ray of light slips through their one miserable window and hits Viktor’s face at the perfect angle, making his eyes look sharper, deeper, almost too expressive. That has to be it. Right?
Because otherwise… well, it’s a bit much.
Jayce has to turn away, pretending to adjust something on his desk, even though nothing actually needs adjusting. His face feels warm, hotter than it should be, and he has absolutely no idea why.
-----
And Viktor’s hands, apparently, were now on the growing list titled “Things Jayce Notices for Absolutely No Good Reason.”
Which was ridiculous. They were just hands. Normal hands. Completely ordinary.
Except they weren’t.
Viktor’s fingers were long and thin, always stained with ink, sometimes smudged along the knuckles, sometimes streaked across the sides like he’d wiped his thoughts onto his skin by accident. They tapped lightly on the desk when he was thinking, moved in quick flicks when he was taking notes, curled delicately around tools as if they were made of glass.
Jayce caught himself staring once, just staring at Viktor’s fingers for a full three seconds, and immediately pretended to adjust his goggles, as if that explained anything.
It didn’t.
At all.
But he’d committed to the bit, so he stuck with it.
-----
Then there was the way Viktor said his name.
Jayce didn’t know when he started paying attention to it, honestly, he wished he hadn’t, but once he heard it properly, he couldn’t un-hear it.
Everyone else said “Jayce” the same way: quick, clean, straightforward.
Viktor said it… differently.
Softer.
Like the word had rounded edges.
Like he was testing the shape of it in his mouth every time.
Like the name meant something more than just “hey, you.”
Perfectly normal. Totally logical explanation somewhere out there, he was sure.
Except every time Viktor said “Jayce,” something in Jayce’s chest tightened, just slightly, just annoyingly enough to notice, and his brain immediately scrambled to come up with some rational excuse.
Maybe Viktor was just tired.
Maybe his accent did something weird.
Maybe Jayce was imagining it.
Whatever it was, he really needed it to stop.
Because, scientifically speaking, this was becoming a hazard to his productivity.
-----
Then it was Viktor’s thin frame.
Everything about him was thin.
His arms, his legs, his waist. Honestly, all of him.
Jayce felt like some sort of creep for noticing, but it wasn’t like he wanted to pay attention to these things. It just sort of… happened. Especially when Viktor stretched across their shared desk to grab something, and his waist ended up right in front of Jayce’s face.
And Jayce had one very unhelpful thought:
Why is it so small?
Seriously. If Jayce reached out and wrapped his hands around Viktor’s waist, would they fit? Because it really looked like they would. Maybe even with room to spare.
That was the moment Jayce abruptly pushed back his chair, muttered something that probably counted as an excuse, and announced he needed to go for a walk.
A long walk.
Preferably outside.
Preferably somewhere cold.
-----
And these things kept running through his brain throughout the day, looping over and over when he was supposed to be focusing on literally anything else. Then, they followed him into the night, haunting his dreams in the most unhelpful way possible.
The soft smile.
The shiny brown eyes.
The ridiculously small waist.
The long, ink stained fingers.
The way Viktor said his name.
(Not necessarily in that order. His subconscious apparently liked to shuffle them like some sort of emotional roulette.)
And in those dreams, all of it was for him.
Those eyes were fixed solely on him, warm and unblinking, reflecting his image back like Jayce was somehow the only thing that existed. That small, endearing smile was pointed directly at him, gentle in a way Jayce had never seen when awake.
Viktor’s hands were there too, long fingers brushing his cheek or hovering over his own hands like they were meant to fit together. His voice was the worst part, saying Jayce’s name quietly, almost fondly, in a tone that made Jayce feel like his stomach was trying to turn inside out.
And that narrow waist, right within his grasp, fitting far too well, making Viktor seem entirely and impossibly his.
None of this, unfortunately, stayed contained to dreams.
He would wake each morning more exhausted than when he went to bed, staring at the ceiling and silently questioning everything. Then, he would look down at his pajamas and realize they needed to go into the wash. Again.
It was becoming a problem.
A very specific, Viktor-shaped problem.
-----
Now, Jayce prided himself on his intelligence. He was a pretty smart guy, objectively, even. But he had absolutely no idea what this was.
Was it admiration?
Maybe, but that didn’t make sense. He’d admired plenty of people before: professors, mentors, brilliant researchers, but none of them had shown up in his dreams like some kind of… temptation. None of them had made him wake up sweating and mortified.
Was it lust?
Maybe, but looking at the real Viktor, who’s currently standing at the board, scribbling equations in that absentminded way of his, didn’t exactly set Jayce on fire. No sudden rush of heat, no swooning, no dramatic reaction whatsoever. Honestly, it felt the same as seeing any random person out in public. Completely normal.
So then… what was it?
-----
Jayce keeps trying to label whatever he’s feeling: admiration, lust, confusion, but nothing fits. He spends days going in circles, and honestly, he’s getting irritated with himself.
The realization finally hits him on a day that starts out completely normal.
They’re working late again. Viktor looks even thinner than usual, running on pure determination instead of actual energy. Jayce notices the slight tremor in his hands, because of course he does now, but Viktor keeps going like nothing’s wrong.
Then Viktor reaches for a tool, misjudges the distance, and suddenly he’s stumbling.
Jayce doesn’t think. He just moves.
He crosses the room and catches Viktor by the waist before he hits the floor. Viktor weighs practically nothing; it’s like holding a bundle of sticks pretending to be a person.
“Viktor,” Jayce says, heart racing, “when was the last time you ate?”
Viktor blinks at him, dazed. “...I’m not sure?”
“It’s nine at night.”
“Oh.”
(Which is not helpful.)
Jayce holds him there, one arm around his waist, and everything just...clicks.
This goes beyond admiration.
Beyond lust.
Beyond just weird dreams.
He cares.
Way too much.
Enough that the idea of Viktor collapsing again makes him feel sick.
Viktor shifts in his arms, looking up with those tired brown eyes. “Jayce, you can let go now.”
Jayce realizes he doesn’t want to.
And that’s the moment he finally gets it.
Oh.
It’s him.
It’s Viktor.
It’s been Viktor.