Chapter Text
The weather was awful.
A chill ran up Jayce’s spine as soon as he left the comfort of his flat, causing his breath to appear in front of his barely parted lips, appearing and dissipating in a constant rhythm. There was wind weaving through every back street before eventually ending up where Jayce was, as if its intention was to annoy him, specifically. His hands began to shake whenever they weren’t hidden deep in the pockets of his warm coat. His hair was pushed back, no longer nice and combed, but wisps fell over his forehead and tickled his ears.
He was already running late from taking far too long in the warmth under the showerhead this morning, so he had to skip his usual trip to that coffee shop on the corner of his street. The one that smelt like freshly ground beans, that always had a vinyl record on in the corner, playing through the loudspeakers. He had come to remember the names of the workers, and in return, they had begun to remember his order.
The professor breathed out a sigh of relief once he entered the college grounds. The heels of his boots thudded softly against the damp stone tiles of the courtyard, still soaking up the downpour of last night but having made little progress due to the heavy covering of dark clouds above the city.
Jayce made it inside, walked through the familiar halls before seating himself down in his office.
He threw his belongings across his desk in a huff, turning his head to quickly read the clock on the wall, yet, something caught his eye in the corner of the room. A desk, the smallest one in the room now had belongings on top of it after being empty for the past two years.
There were plants and books covering the polished wood table, a framed photo in one corner, and even a few sticky notes pinned up to the corkboard attached to the wall.
Unable to keep his curiosity to himself, Jayce stood up and meandered over to the desk in question, flitting over to the recently filled space. Specifically, a name plate resting on the corner, which read: ‘Viktor Kveton’.
Jayce scoffed, turning his attention back to his problem at hand, sitting back down at his desk. He began tapping his index and middle fingers against the trackpad of his laptop, trying to will his brain to come up with something for today’s lecture. He’d had all weekend to plan this out, yet his mind insisted he spent most of it lounging around eating cheap noodles for lunch, and dinner, before collapsing onto his bed near midnight in a fruitless attempt to get a good night’s rest. Now, it was 8:45am, and he had 15 minutes to scrape something together for this two-hour long lecture.
Shit.
The door opened and one of Jayce’s coworkers walked in, the smell of fresh coffee emanating from the reusable-cup she was holding in her elegant fingers, coloured like melted chocolate, and moving just as elegantly as one might assume it would. She brought the cup up to her glossy lips, taking small sips from the opening every so often.
“Morning Jayce,” she hummed, a tote bag being slung off of her shoulder to find solace on the back of her desk chair, its strap straining from the amount of books it was holding all on its own, “happy Monday.”
Jayce nodded, fingertips pressing further into his forehead, a crease forming on his brows while his eyes focused on his laptop keyboard, as if he was waiting for it to start typing for him, “yeah, morning Mel.”
“There’s a new science professor arriving today.” Mel began, “have you met him?”
“No,” Jayce grumbled, tapping his forehead with the pads of his fingers, “haven’t gotten the chance yet.”
“I think you’d get along well.”
“Why?” Jayce turned his head, “have you met him?”
“No… But I have seen his staff photo.”
The History teacher scoffed, turning around to look at his colleague unamusedly, palms resting on the edge of his wooden desk while his amber eyes caught Mel’s intense gaze, the green soothing his stress, and the gold specks reflecting her playful side.
“I’m not interested.”
“Just food for thought, is all.”
“Then I’m not hungry, either.”
“Suit yourself.” Mel shrugged.
The two sat in silence for a moment, the only sound being the soft clacking of Mel’s nails against her keyboard, and each ticking of a second coming from the clock on the wall.
“When’s your first lecture?” Mel asked, turning to watch Jayce packing up his things, laptop being stuffed into his satchel, along with his lanyard.
“Now.” The man breathed out, struggling to get the strap comfortably over his leather jacket before his hand reached for the door handle anyway, “wish me luck.”
Jayce was late to his own lecture, his students were waiting for him. There were a few dozen eyes watching him fiddle over his belongings before the HDMI cable plugged into his laptop, his desktop appearing on the large projector. Barely anything was organised there, files over files, stacks of images and screenshots piled on top of everything that had previously been important.
“Morning.” He breathed out, “uh, everyone.”
There was a murmuring from the students.
Jayce’s amber eyes flitted over the lecture hall, listing no more than six students actively paying attention to him. He sighed and turned to move his slides up onto the screen.
The lecture was off to a shaky start, but he quickly managed himself and the students. Extending an arm to point up to the screen, his other hand pushed his glasses to the top of his head, effectively getting his messy brown hair out of his field of view.
“So, according to these uh.” With a click of the remote behind his back, Jayce looked up to see an empty slide, with only two words of text at the top to go off of: ‘add image’. “To this, uhm…”
A few scattered chuckles could be heard throughout the lecture hall, students watching Jayce round the podium to access his laptop, checking through the rest of the slides he thought he had ready, only to see a few small notes to ‘add in later’. Clearly, in his tired state last night, Jayce hadn’t gotten as much work done as he thought he had.
Jayce sighed and sat down in his chair, fingers carding through his messy black hair atop his head, elbows resting on the desk in the corner while hundreds of eyes scrutinized his every move.
“Uhm, you know what,” he addressed the class, nose deep into his laptop, “why don’t you all just go over the… uh- yes, the Maya syllabary! compared to uh…”
A few students began flipping through their textbooks, while their professor was stumbling over his belongings in a futile attempt to grab his misplaced one hidden somewhere deep within his seemingly never-ending satchel.
“The- alright, so!” He clapped his hands together and stood up straight, glancing back at the blank slideshow, shoulders slumping before his gaze turned back to his book. “Does… So, the Mayan used musicolinguistics to communicate, with a phonetic syllabary, as shown below in the… wavelength alphabet…”
The rest of the lesson was rather out of order, going back and forth between his textbook and the wide array of useless linguistic information stored away in some old cardboard box underneath piles of unfiled paperwork in his mind. The students in his lecture were packed up before he had even considered the time, and had begun filtering out the second his rambling had paused and he waved them all a tired goodbye.
Jayce slumped down in his chair, holding his hands over his face, heel spinning him back and forth before he sighed and everything came to a stop.
His large hands crumpled a few of his papers while they were on their way into his satchel, before smoothing them out in apology when they were safely inside behind his books. The professor turned to flick off the projector when the large swinging doors opened and his head shot up, the crown of it throbbing in pain when the bottom of the hanging sheet hit him.
“Dean Heimerdinger!” He stepped forward, reaching to shake the man’s hand. “Why- what are you doing in my lecture?”
“Is the Dean not permitted to check in on his employees from time to time, dear Jayce?” he questioned, holding his hands behind his back and standing up straight. Those eyes as harsh and calm as the ocean flitted around the lecture hall.
“No, sir, you are but—”
“Then all is settled!” He leant down and passed Jayce a stray piece of paper from the floor, “I’m checking up on you.”
…
There was a moment of silence before Jayce exhaled and took his laptop, finding space for that in his satchel as he spoke, head downturned. “Well, thank you Dean, for coming and checking in on me, but I really should be heading back to my office. My next lecture is tomorrow and I have much—”
“–To do?” Heimerdinger finished, crossing his arms and scrutinizing Jayce.
Jayce sighed, shoulders sagging. “Yeah…” He fell back into his chair. “Yeah, much… much to do…”
Heimerdinger shook his head and rounded the desk, “Jayce, my boy,” he muttered, “it seems you need a rest.”
“No, sir I can—”
Heimerdinger held up a hand to shush him.
“Ah ah ah.” The Dean shook his head, “You seem to be over-working yourself lad, and I have the perfect job for you in the meantime.”
Jayce puffed out his cheeks before the air escaped him.
“We have a new professor here, and I’ve placed him in your office due to the current inaccessibility of the Science precinct’s office.”
“...Right.” Jayce breathed out, “and… you wanted me to—?”
“Ah! Simply make sure he’s welcome, and help him if he asks you to.”
“Yes… yes I believe I can do that.”
“Right on my boy!” Heimerdinger gently clapped a hand on the professor’s shoulder, beaming up at him. “I knew you’d be the one to help out.”
Jayce stepped towards him, “Dean Heimerdinger—”
“Now, now! He'll be setting up his desk as we speak, I do hope you can find time in your busy schedule to meet our new professor!”
“But—”
“Much to do, Jayce! Much to do!”
The door shut behind him and Jayce was left on his own once again.
Jayce’s hands wrung together as he entered back into his office, the satchel weighing him down while slung over his shoulder. The door was pushed open, palm wrapped around the handle in familiarity, the heavy wood scraping against the carpeted floor, breaking it apart and lifting up every strand that came along for the brief ride. The quarter of the door’s only pathway had made a permanent mark on the floors, one that would only get worse as time went on, and professors passed through here again and again, long after Jayce had left.
Well, unless they dry cleaned it… he supposed.
Jayce moved the strap, letting it slide off of his shoulder before the heavy contents rested on its place against the bottom of his desk. The office was empty, all other desks having chairs pushed out and coffee cups mugs going cold.
Jayce hesitated.
He craned his neck, the newly possessed desk right in his line of sight.
The laptop was left in the satchel and Jayce’s footsteps could be heard padding across the floor and stopping right next to the chair.
His eyes flitted to the digital clock seated right next to the nameplate, which was in much better condition than Jayce’s.
A stack of books piled up was present on the right side. Jayce’s large fingers skimmed across the spines, reading over the titles of each one. Most were about sciences. There was: ‘The Science of Energy, The Uncertainties of Modern Physical Science, Popular Scientific Lectures, and Problems of Instrumental Analytical Chemistry.’
A confused feeling knit itself into his brow, downturning it before he moved away and rounded the chair.
His gaze paused on a framed photo of, supposedly, Viktor. He picked it up gently, thumbing over the carved, wooden frame. In it was a young man, hair combed back and outfit well-put together. His head held high with a graduation cap resting ever so slightly. An older man was holding onto his shoulder, beaming at the camera, greying hair slicked back similarly to his son’s. There were large square glasses resting on his nose making him look like he belonged on the Saturday night news reporting the weather. He had that kind of smile that looked like it was made for business, yet also radiated pride in his son. Viktor had a crooked smile on his face, eyes shut and holding the rolled up degree in his hand between them both.
A smile tugged at the corner of Jayce’s mouth, growing the more he looked at the photo.
His curious gaze moved down and caught sight of Viktor’s free hand resting on a cane, wooden with a few ribbons tied around the shaft, and a single hanging chain with a deep purple crystal hanging from where the wrist strap was supposed to be.
Jayce’s hands brought the photo closer to his face, nose almost brushing against the glass covering it.
“I do believe snooping gives off a poor first impression, Professor.”
A voice cuts through the silence of the office room, and the frame slips out of Jayce’s gentle grasp.