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When Jayce lets the rune take him, it’s a pain more excruciating than anything he’s experienced before. Almost as if the fabric of his body is being forcefully torn apart, branded with a thousand hot irons.
The only thing keeping him from going mad amidst the agony is his grasp on Viktor, the rune in their conjoined hands holding the fate of the world and the people they love inside it. They endure it together, cradled in each others’ arms, forehead to forehead in the endless embrace of the arcane.
This vastness they’re in is what Jayce imagines it would be like to float in space, only everything that he’s read about space indicates that it should be silent.
The arcane is anything but silent.
But after adjusting to it, Jayce realises the cacophony of overlapping murmurs and screams he hears are not so unfamiliar after all - they’re Viktor’s thoughts, voiced aloud in the infinite expanse of the space created for just the two of them. Internal monologues isolated and layered like the instruments in an orchestra, overlapping and passing by too fast for Jayce to keep up. He hears Viktor’s voice lamenting the state of the world he had almost destroyed, shaking cries apologising over and over again, a loud exclamation rejoicing that he’s finally free from it all. But amongst all the different branches of thought, Jayce’s attention catches on just one.
A soft thought, directed at him.
I wish we had met under different circumstances, says Viktor’s voice, just loud enough to understand, perhaps, in another life. One where we could have had a mundane experience together where nothing else mattered. No Hextech, no magic, no glorious evolution. Only us.
Jayce looks up at his partner then, taking in the sight. Crystalline tears made of the stars themselves fall from Viktor’s eyes into the darkness, and his entire being glows white, brimming with the power of the acceleration rune. Every iteration of Viktor is beautiful, but Jayce has never felt as overcome with it like he is now.
I love you, Jayce thinks, and hears the echo of his own voice, amplified tenfold amidst the starry chaos, I would follow you through any universe.
Then the galaxies unfolding and around them seem to reverberate, and something in Jayce tells him that it’s all going to collapse. The rune scorches where their hands are joined.
He feels Viktor’s wordless fear, and the pulse in Viktor’s wrist against his fingers whispers, I think we are going to die.
We’ll get to start again, I’m sure of it. And I’ll find you in the next life, too. I’ll find you and love you the way I should have done years ago.
Viktor reaches up to grasp the back of his neck, pulling their faces impossibly closer together. Promise me.
Throughout the years they’ve known each other, Viktor has asked Jayce to make many difficult promises. Ones that have tested his will in ways he could never have imagined. But this one? It’s the easiest he’s ever had to make.
I promise.
The world around them spins, a galaxy of runes and arcane energy…
… And the cycle begins again.
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The warmth of the setting sun caresses Jayce’s face as he lugs his laundry bag from the lobby of his apartment building to the laundromat next door. Despite the still-lingering daylight, its neon lights are lit up, displaying OPEN 7 DAYS and WASHING AND DRYING.
He only finished moving into this apartment a few days ago, after years of his mom bugging him that he’s twenty-four now and he needs to get out into the world and be independent now that he’s finished undergrad and all that stuff that moms are supposed to say. It’s a one-bedroom kind of situation, with creaky floorboards and a little kitchen and an ensuite with a tiny frosted window that makes the colours of the world outside look a little brighter. It’s small, but small is comforting.
And it would be perfect, except for one problem: there’s no washing machine.
That explains why there’s a coin laundry so close by, he thinks as he pushes open the door. The launderette is an unassuming thing, one small room with a few differently sized washing machines against one wall and dryers on the other. The space is dimly lit and filled with the sound of machinery whirring over a softly playing pop song.
Initially, Jayce doesn’t even notice the other person in the room. Not until one of the machines beeps, making him look, only to find an amused-looking man staring back at him from atop it. His legs are hanging off the side, and he’s wearing a knee-length pair of cargo shorts, so Jayce can see some kind of brace or orthotic type thing wrapping around his right calf.
He has a very pretty face, is Jayce’s first thought.
Sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes framed by messy brown hair, and from beneath the hood of his jumper, Jayce swears he can see dyed blond tips sticking out. He looks around the same age as Jayce too, early twenties probably. The apartment is pretty close to Piltover Uni, so maybe he’s a student there as well.
His position atop the washer, the evening light illuminating his face in soft yellow, reminds Jayce a little of a music video that Caitlyn has forced him to watch at least a dozen times.
So, as he plonks his bag down on the floor and heads to the powder vending machine, he finds himself humming; so keep your eyes on me now…
“Big fan of K/DA?” asks the man, teasing, and Jayce can’t help but notice the accent that curls around his words. It sounds eastern European - maybe Slovak or Czech.
Jayce shakes his head, a little embarrassed to have been caught. “Not really. You sitting there just reminded me of the music video.”
He laughs. “I can’t stand that song.”
Jayce continues humming anyway. He wonders if the man will speak up again, maybe to take a jab at his unskilled use of the machines or his outfit or his hair or something… But nothing comes. It’s stupid, but Jayce finds himself disappointed.
For a long time, that is the first and only time they talk.
-
It doesn’t take long before the man becomes a familiar face, running into Jayce in the launderette once or twice a week. Jayce observes that he walks with a cane, and always smiles at him but never speaks. His outfits are always neutrally toned, slightly oversized, well put together. It gives the impression that he isn’t trying to be fashionable, but clearly puts effort into his appearance. That’s definitely a green flag, says Caitlyn’s sing-song voice in his head.
Sometimes the man wears headphones, nodding his head softly along to a melody nobody else can hear. On the days he doesn’t, Jayce considers saying something.
Making friends these days is hard, and knowing someone who lives so close would be convenient. He can already picture several different places he thinks laundry guy might enjoy if they went together.
But the man has already proven his capacity to talk, evidenced by that brief exchange the first time they’d met. If he was going to strike up conversation again, surely he would have done it already. So Jayce reasons that he simply doesn’t want to - they are nothing more than strangers, after all.
A few times while he’s sitting by the window of the toastie shop across the road, Jayce sees the man enter or leave the laundromat. He kinda wants to talk to him.
Okay, he really wants to talk to him.
-
Caitlyn Kiramman’s bedroom is probably the same size as Jayce’s entire apartment, and the whole space is undeniably hers. Almost every wall is decorated with Korean girl group photocards, or crime movie posters, or polaroids of her and Vi. Usually when they go for their fortnightly catchups, it’ll be at a cafe or something, but they’re in her room today because Cait insisted that she’s been getting really good at nail art recently.
So, Jayce sits patiently with his hands outstretched on her ottoman as she meticulously paints his nails. She had begged him to let her put extensions on, and if it weren't for the hazardous weekly training sessions he attends for the PiltUni football club, he would have let her.
While Caitlyn carefully colours in a strawberry on his thumb, Jayce tells her about the latest in his life. Which, at the moment, is the university peer mentoring program he signed up for this year. The kid he’s been assigned - Ekko, is nice enough, but they usually end up chatting about their interests rather than whatever they’re supposed to be discussing.
“Yeah, it’s kinda alright,” Jayce sighs, “last time he was telling me about this short film he’s making with his girlfriend..”
Caitlyn was actually the one who put him up to it, after raving about how great the peer mentor she’d had in her own first year was. She’s is clearly too engrossed in the masterpiece she’s creating on his fingers to do any more than hum in response, so he keeps talking. “They sound like they’re really cute together. Ugh, first you and Vi, now them… I feel really single right now.”
The mention of relationships - more specifically, Jayce’s relationships, gets Cait’s attention. She looks up from her red nail polish bottle and grins at him, “Well maybe you should date someone. Ever thought about that?”
He scoffs, “Don’t make it sound so easy…”
“Surely there’s someone that comes to mind?”
She’s not wrong. There is definitely someone that comes to mind. Someone he’s very purposefully left out of their conversations today.
“Uh. Actually… I didn’t think it was important enough to tell you, but there’s this guy-”
Caitlyn, getting entirely the wrong idea, cuts him off excitedly, “WHAT! What’s his name? How far have you gone with him?”
Blood rushing to his face, Jayce fights the urge to wave his hands defensively and ruin her hard work, “No, it’s nothing like that! I just see him at the laundromat sometimes. I don’t even know his name.”
In true little sister fashion, Caitlyn grills him for the next five minutes about every interaction he’s ever had with mystery boy, demanding an in-depth visual description and creating a detailed action plan on how Jayce should go about asking him out.
When he inevitably recounts their first interaction, he mentions how the man was sitting on the washing machines.
“Like Ahri!” Cait exclaims, finishing off a white heart on his pinky finger.
Jayce grins, “That’s exactly what I thought.”
-
The man with the cane and blond tips isn’t the only face Jayce learns to recognise in the launderette. There are quite a few other regulars, a colourful cast of his fellow apartment tenants.
The first makes herself known very quickly, a disgruntled middle aged lady who seems to take the presence of anyone else in the laundromat as an invitation to talk to them. She’s made quite a habit of loudly complaining about the grass stains on her son’s school uniform that won’t come out, and Jayce chuckles awkwardly whenever she does so, trying his best to be polite. (Really, he could not care less.)
On a nicer note, there’s a pair of fellow Piltover Uni students who introduce themselves to Jayce the first time he sees them. They’re significantly younger than him; only first years, but Jayce mutters their names - Steb and Maddie - over and over so he won’t forget. They look like good friends, probably roommates considering he always sees them together after that.
But the person that intrigues Jayce the most is a girl with freckles and half-moon glasses and a nervous laugh. He pays extra attention to her, because it’s through her that Jayce learns the laundry guy’s name.
The two of them are already in the laundromat when Jayce comes in to pick up his washing, and the man gives him a small smile as usual. Beside him, the girl is obviously trying to work the vending machine that dispenses laundry powder sachets, but not doing a great job at it.
“Are you sure you don’t want help with that?” the man asks, his tone light and teasing. Just from that sentence, Jayce can tell that they must be close. It reminds him of how he’d talk to Cait.
“Shut up Viktor, I’m figuring it out!” she shoots back, without any real malice in her voice.
If they continue talking, Jayce wouldn’t know. His brain is too busy playing her words on loop, answering a question he’s been wanting to ask for weeks.
Viktor. His name is Viktor.
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Parasocial would probably be the best word to describe the crush Viktor has developed on the man from the laundromat.
At first glance, Viktor completely dismissed him. He was cute, with nice hair and big shoulders, but he looked like any other dickhead who’d be on a high school football team or something. Viktor wants to leave those kinds of boys behind in his past, now that he’s graduated.
But then he started humming a trashy k-pop song. Then came in with little strawberries painted on his nails. And then after that, he kept wearing all kinds of graphic t-shirts into the coin laundry. Ones with nerdy science puns, pieces of fan merch that a typical football-playing jock wouldn’t be caught dead in. So, Viktor’s mental image of the laundromat boy shifts.
How someone so athletic and, frankly, hot, could also be nerdy and secure in his masculinity is enough to make Viktor entertain the thought of talking to him. Only on occasion, of course. But his resolve crumbles on the day that the man enters the laundromat sweaty and clearly post-workout, wearing a tank top that shows off an indecent amount of skin. Trying his best to push his guilt down, Viktor goes home that night and jerks off a little desperately to the thought of those large hands around his waist, or pinning his wrists above his head…
Anyway.
Sure, the idea of this mysterious neighbour that keeps him company in his imagination is nice, but that’s all it is. Imagination.
Only it isn’t - laundromat guy is a very real person. A real person who keeps smiling at him more and more expectantly as of late, like he’s anticipating a conversation, and Viktor realises with abject horror that, honestly? He’s terrified to actually talk to him. Because Viktor has a perfect image of this stranger in his head, and he doesn’t want to ruin it.
They’ve only had one real spoken interaction, on that first day when Viktor insulted the song he was humming. (Very smooth of him.) Since then, there have been shared glances that they both try to hide, small smiles exchanged as if to say hey, you’re a familiar face, exasperated eye contact when the ginger soccer mom comes in and harps on about her life to them.
And despite how insistent the man’s expression seems to be every time they see each other lately, as if begging Viktor to be the one to speak first, Viktor is still completely under the impression that they will never talk again.
That is, until they’re forced into it by variables completely out of his control.
Viktor has just arrived to drop off his laundry on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, and the man is there to meet his eyes as he pushes open the door. They smile at each other, as they always do, and then go about their separate business, as they always do. He pushes a few coins into the vending machine and bends down painfully to collect the packet of detergent, while the other man folds his clean clothes on top of one of the machines.
Once he successfully has a bag of freshly dried clothing under his arm, it looks like the man is about to leave when the door opens again, and in walks a familiar face.
Viktor knows who it is instantly as soon as he spots those bright blue pigtails - the enthusiastic first-year he helps out in the peer mentoring program at uni, Powder.
“Heyyy, Big V!” she gasps, “What are you doing here?”
“Powder? Hello, I didn’t expect to see you here…” he greets her, a little taken aback as a small party begins filing in behind her. None of them are familiar, but they’re carrying various film accessories; camera bags, a boom mic, lights, the whole shebang.
Then, even more unexpectedly, laundromat man speaks, “Hey, is that you, Ekko?”
Viktor can’t believe his luck.
“Oh, no way!” the boy holding the boom mic, clad in cool streetwear and white locs, perks up in recognition. Then he turns to Viktor, “and you know Pow?” and without leaving room to breathe, addresses both Viktor and laundry guy, “do you two know each other?”
“Uh- well…” the other man starts, turning stiffly to look at Viktor, at the same time as he says, “Not exactly.”
Powder and Ekko (this must be the boyfriend she always talks about) quickly rectify that as the rest of the film crew set up. A series of rapid-fire questions and semi-awkward introductions later, Viktor collects facts about laundromat guy - Jayce - like a crow collects shiny trinkets. He’s twenty-four, a year younger than Viktor, he also goes to Piltover University, he studies mechanical engineering, he mentors Ekko in the same program where Viktor mentors Powder. He lives two floors above Viktor, and it’s seriously like they were destined to meet.
At least, that’s what Powder insists as she begs for the rest of them to agree to do their peer mentoring sessions at the same time, to ‘make it more bearable’. Whatever that means. Viktor thought the two of them were getting along just fine until now.
–
The next time Viktor and Jayce see each other after the film crew incident, Jayce asks for his number. He’s awfully hesitant when he does so, without their enthusiastic younger acquaintances to back him up.
Viktor happily obliges, though, and saves his contact as Jayce (509). But despite trading numbers, they never actually end up texting.
The number sits lamely in Viktor’s phone, his list of conversations begging for an extra addition. It would almost feel like a repeat of the time before they properly met; both waiting for the other to make a move.
If he’s never going to message him, Viktor wonders why Jayce bothered asking for his number in the first place.
On the other hand, now that they have introduced themselves and broken the barrier of not talking in the laundromat, whenever Viktor heads over, he’s started seeing Jayce there more often than not. In fact, since they became friends (if he can be so presumptuous as to call them that), Jayce’s clothes seem to need washing a lot more than usual. Part of Viktor wonders if those two things are connected.
The coincidentally increased amount of time spent together in the coin laundry does allow for real conversation, though. They fold their clothes and discuss each other’s university projects, they take the elevator back up to their respective apartment floors and share little anecdotes about their lives, they linger for a moment too long when it comes time to part ways and Viktor realises with great elation that he actually likes Jayce.
To put a name to the feeling is like breathing again after weeks submerged underwater, caged birds set free and fluttering all through his chest whenever Jayce laughs at one of his jokes or smiles with those pretty eyes.
And- and, it’s not just the version of Jayce who was nameless and existed purely in Viktor’s head that he likes, either - in fact, the real thing is kind of better.
Which, in theory is great, but ends up being quite the annoyance. Because they’re just friends.
It’s a bit of a distraction, because Viktor’s subconscious hasn’t quite caught up to his waking mind. His brain is clearly confused; split in two, because while it provides nothing but wholesome thoughts during the day, it keeps finding ways to insert Jayce’s face into his dreams and leave his boxers sticky when he wakes up in the morning despite Viktor’s best attempts to keep things friendly.
Traitorously, after Jayce’s presence in the laundromat begins to pick up, a certain song starts worming its way into Viktor’s head. One time when Sky is over at his apartment, cross-legged on the fluffy rug that covers his living room floor, he accidentally starts humming.
The humming leads to teasing, the teasing leads to an admission, the admission leads to a lengthy storytime about Viktor’s mysterious laundry-crush-turned-friend. Sky insists he should make his feelings known. Viktor isn’t so sure. Does he want to be in a relationship? Or is this just a wishful fantasy, held tightly in the grasp of his dreams?
Sky tells him he’s overthinking it, and Viktor wishes he could see it as simply as she does.
He thinks about Jayce, and he listens to that one damn song. It doesn’t take long before K/DA starts worming its way into his repeat playlist, and Viktor guiltily pretends those two things aren’t connected either.
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When it hits autumn, Jayce very quickly realises that his ceiling leaks when it rains. A persisting drip, drip, drip into the bucket he’s placed below the wet patch, muted only by noise-cancelling headphones. He should definitely get it checked out before it becomes a bigger issue, but that’s a problem for later, he thinks as he lugs his washing downstairs.
The colder months have never really been kind to Jayce. The scars of a traumatic incident involving his mom’s car breaking down in the snow when he was too young to fully remember still haunt him every time he feels the chill of winter, and causes him to vehemently avoid the sensation of cold. Now that he lives in an apartment alone, it will be his first winter without her constant presence to ground him.
The silver lining of this is that lately, the warmth of the laundromat has become even more of a comfort than usual. As the days become darker and the daylight hours become more scarce, he can always rely on the yellowish lights and shoddy overheating machines to poorly simulate a golden summer afternoon. The temperature inside is always toasty and he can’t really pinpoint why, but the pleasant smell of detergent has gotten stronger recently too.
Rugged up in a hoodie and a puffer jacket thrown on top, Jayce braces himself to step out of the apartment lobby and head over to the laundromat through the rain. He has to run the short distance between the two buildings in the downpour, hood pulled over his head and sneakers splashing against the uneven pavement.
His heart stutters when Viktor is already there, clearly entertained, as Jayce bursts through the door.
“You know the clothes will get wet anyway when you put them in the machine, yes?”
Jayce laughs, and the air feels even warmer.
He pulls a few loose coins from his pocket and thumbs them into the vending machine. While he waits for the powder sachet to be dispensed, he hears something unusual. Through the sound of rain pitter-pattering on the ground outside, comes the breathy timbre of Viktor’s voice, softly singing a familiar tune. Almost as though he isn’t even aware he’s doing it.
Jayce pauses, afraid to scare him out of it. Viktor has such a lovely voice. He sings slightly slower than the upbeat original tempo, bringing out a sweeter side to the lyrics. His accent catches a little around the pronunciation of the korean lines, but it’s so endearing that Jayce can hardly keep himself standing.
He wants to sing along, he wants to laugh, he wants to feel Viktor hum that tune against his lips.
Fuck. He can’t listen to this any longer.
“I thought you said you hated that song!” Jayce blurts out, turning to grin at his friend. Viktor stiffens, caught off guard.
“I do,” he starts, then breaks at the pointed look Jayce gives him, “Eh, it’s growing on me. The tune is… Catchy.”
It would take the ceiling collapsing down on them to wipe the smile off Jayce’s face.
“Sure, Vik, whatever you say. Who’s your bias? I bet it’s Kai’sa.”
Viktor groans, “I am never going to hear the end of this, am I?”
They run back from the laundromat to the apartment together as best as they can with Viktor’s bad leg, and Jayce makes the bold decision to grab Viktor’s free hand as they do so. Yelping and complaining as they’re both spattered with rain, Viktor squeezes back tightly.
Out of breath, they make it into the lobby. Jayce lunges for the ‘up’ elevator button, and it opens with a ding.
“You were wrong, by the way,” Viktor says, wiping the wet base of his cane on the carpet, “my favourite member is Akali.”
They end up standing a little closer than usual on the ride up, their shoulders practically pressed together. The hood of Viktor’s sweater is pulled over his hair, dotted with raindrops, and as he sways closer Jayce makes a terrible, terrible discovery.
Viktor smells so similar to himself.
There’s a particular scent that’s unique to Viktor, warm like anise and cologne, but Jayce can’t believe he’s never noticed the familiarity beneath it. Of course - they both use the same detergent from the little vending machine in the laundromat, so it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out why they smell like each other.
It also wouldn’t take a genius to figure out why Jayce is so excited by that.
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The first time Jayce invites Viktor to hang out outside of peer mentoring or the laundromat is an otherwise regular afternoon. They’ve made themselves comfortable on the plastic chairs opposite the washing machines, commiserating over bad lecturers and their mutual hatred of the looming winter season for the better part of an hour. As their conversation fizzles out, it lands them stuck in a limbo where their washing won’t be done for a while yet, but they’ve been sitting there long enough that it would be pointless to go back to the apartment.
“It’s almost lunch time, why don’t we go to the cafe across the road?” Jayce suggests, pointing at the little strip of shops they can see outside the launderette’s grimy windows, “They do really good toasties."
Viktor scoffs, “That’s ridiculous, why would I go to a shop and buy a toasted sandwich when I can make one at home?”
“No, you don’t understand,” Jayce says, completely serious, “it’s the best toastie I’ve ever eaten.”
“The best? That’s an awfully large claim you’re making.”
“You have to try it. I’ll pay!”
Viktor cocks an eyebrow. To broke uni students like them, that’s a big deal.
“And they say chivalry is dead,” Viktor sighs, “What a gentleman, paying for the date and everything.” he relents, teasing, congratulating himself for not stuttering on the word date.
So they go.
Jayce guides Viktor with a hand on his back as they cross the road, and it’s infuriating how the touch seems to be second nature to him. As though his hand, just gently brushing Viktor’s thick jumper, can somehow feel the heat of his skin.
The cafe is even smaller than the laundromat, the outside painted with chipping pale pink and decorated with overgrown climbing plants. A large wooden sign hanging above the door boasts the name Zaun Coffee Co, and little scratches and imperfections on the carved letters indicate that it was hand-made. The cafe is a spot of warmth in the cool darkening autumn, with an atmosphere that could really only be described as cosy. A couple of customers are gathered around a takeaway window, and most of the seating is outside. Viktor has to give the place credit, because all of the tables inside are full.
Jayce nicks a menu from the takeaway window while Viktor stakes his claim on a spare table outside, and he hears Jayce greet the waiter inside by name.
When he returns, Jayce hands Viktor the menu and lets him pore over it for no more than ten seconds before insisting that they share the first item on the menu; a toastie that allegedly has nothing but three different types of cheese in it. For an amount of money that he would rather spend on literally anything else. It’s the most ridiculous thing Viktor has ever heard.
But, Jayce is paying, and as much as he tries to forget it, Viktor really likes Jayce.
Eventually, the waiter comes to take their order, and Jayce strikes up easy conversation with him. The kid looks like a high schooler, and rambles excitedly about some basketball game when Jayce asks.
“Oh! By the way, this is my friend Viktor,” Jayce explains to the boy, “it’s his first time here, so make sure it’s extra cheesy.”
Viktor smiles, cocking his eyebrow in challenge and trying very hard not to linger on the word friend, “I’ve heard this is the best toastie I’ll ever eat.”
The waiter chuckles, collecting their menus, “It is - you can bet on it!”
To pass the time, they talk properly about Jayce’s sporting history, and Viktor’s unsurprising lack thereof. Their meetings in the coin laundry are seldom longer than a few minutes at a time, and there are only so many topics they can discuss in an academic setting with Powder and Ekko. So, if this cafe date gives them anything other than a dent in Jayce’s wallet, it’s an opportunity to really, truly talk.
It’s refreshing, how well they click. Viktor doesn’t exactly consider himself a social person - the only friend he really spends time with outside of class is Sky, but Jayce has somehow weaseled his way into Viktor’s life.
Interestingly enough, Jayce asks out of the blue if Sky is his girlfriend. Viktor almost does a spit take at the question when he puts the pieces together and realises Sky is the ‘girl with freckles and glasses who always comes to the laundromat with you’ that Jayce is describing.
“She is not,” Viktor asserts, “also, I don’t date women.”
Jayce’s eyes go wide, “Oh, my bad.” he looks almost mystified, as if seeing Viktor again for the first time. Viktor is one second away from being offended, ready to remind Jayce that his sexual preferences do not fundamentally change anything about the person he is, when Jayce clears his throat and chuckles, “For a bi guy, my gay-dar is really terrible.”
Viktor almost sighs in relief. Maybe the signals he’s been picking up haven’t just been in his imagination, after all. Judging by the smile on Jayce’s face that he’s doing an awful job of suppressing, he’s come to the same conclusion.
The toasted sandwich arrives wrapped in two layers of greasy paper, and the cheese inside refuses to separate when they try to pull the two halves apart, creating a thin string between them that spans the whole table.
Jayce laughs so loudly that even the cars driving by can probably hear him.
Viktor feels strangely comforted by the smell of perfectly golden-brown buttery bread, and when he bites into it, the salt flakes sprinkled on top dissolve on the roof of his mouth. Taking huge bites of his own half, Jayce watches the whole ordeal with rapt attention.
And well, Viktor has to agree. It’s a damn good toastie.
-
To Jayce’s delight and Viktor’s dismay, it takes less than two weeks later for the two of them to wind up at Zaun Coffee Co again. Viktor pays this time, with a bank note so he can use the change for the detergent vending machine. When they inevitably end up back at the laundromat afterwards, Jayce watches him struggle to find the right combination of coins to put in.
“Here, let me hold some of those.” Jayce urges, poorly hiding his amusement.
Viktor juggles his wallet in the hand holding his cane and the pile of coins in the other, dropping them into Jayce’s extended hand. When their fingers brush, it suddenly becomes apparent just how close together they’re standing.
Fishing around for two more pesky 10c coins, he schools his face into the most blase, nonchalant expression possible. “You know, it’s quite funny that we use the same washing detergent.”
Jayce’s gaze roams his face, searching for the very emotion Viktor is trying to hide. “You think?”
“Yes, because then we end up, I suppose,” he winces. This is such a strange thing to say, an embarrassing thing to have noticed. But he’s already halfway through the sentence, so there’s no stopping the inevitable fallout when Viktor says, “smelling the same?”
Jayce’s eyebrows shoot upwards, and he stares down at the coins he’s fidgeting with in his hands. They seem to have suddenly become very interesting. “Hah, yeah,” Jayce murmurs, “I’ve noticed that too. It is funny.”
Viktor holds his breath. Releases the air sharply out his nose. “I don’t mind it. I think it’s quite nice, actually.”
Jayce stares at him, mouth hanging slightly open, like he’s trying to figure something out that he can’t quite comprehend. And Viktor prays. He isn’t religious by any means, but he prays to any available deity that he hasn’t misinterpreted this whole thing between them.
The whirring of the machines fills the silence. The pink streaking through the evening sky lights the empty space.
Jayce whispers, voice suddenly hoarse, “I’m really glad I met you, Viktor.”
He leans in ever-so-slowly, and when they kiss for the very first time, the coins in Jayce’s hands fall onto the tiles and clink against the hard surface, no doubt rolling into places neither of them can reach. With his newly freed hands, Jayce groans into the kiss, and Viktor clutches him tighter.
Everything stays chaste, just a gentle brushing of lips against each other, and yet.
It’s so warm.
Then one of the machines beeps and Viktor pulls away, forcing an arm’s length between them as his brain races to catch up with what just happened. Jayce shakes his head a little, roaming Viktor’s face with his eyes, as if it might hold the answers to the very universe itself. Then his gaze darts to the floor, littered with the coins he’d dropped in his excitement.
Viktor can’t help but laugh.
Jayce does too, eyes crinkling at the corners. He drops to his knees, fumbling to pick them all up. Then he deposits them back into Viktor’s waiting palm, and crosses the room to take his clothes out of the washing machine. The hope that Jayce might come back and kiss him again, or confirm his feelings, or acknowledge what they just shared in any way at all slowly dissipates with every item Jayce loads into the basket.
But he was so tender. Viktor had been so sure. So sure that they could be something serious, More than just acquaintances who make smalltalk in a launderette.
Jayce kissed him, and Viktor makes it mean more than it did.
Jayce kissed him, and they don’t bring it up again.
It’s not as if they’re specifically avoiding each other. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. Between peer mentoring and the laundromat and the toasties, they see each other all the time.
They just. Don’t talk about it.
Sometimes Viktor wonders if Jayce even remembers that it happened at all.
⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
Jayce remembers what happened with perfect clarity. In fact, he thinks about it often. Way too often.
A cold shower on a crisp autumn morning is a recipe for disaster. Yet, with every drop of water feeling like an icy stab to the back, Jayce takes one anyway. He scrubs at his skin hard, meticulously covering every inch of his body in soap - anything to distract himself.
Guilt roils in his stomach, trying with all his might to push away the thoughts he’d been having. Viktor is his friend. Just his friend, despite how much the painful hardness he’d woken up with between his legs seems to disagree.
Indulging myself just this once won’t hurt, right?
Relenting to the promise of warmth, he cranks the hot water tap before he can give himself a cold and hastily jerks off with his eyes squeezed shut, biting back Viktor’s name. A guilty conscience looms over Jayce’s shoulder as he dries himself off and pads into the bedroom to get dressed for the day.
They’re best friends, closer than ever. Recently, the two of them even visited each others’ respective apartments for the first time. Somehow, that seemed to be the straw that broke the camel’s back, and all of a sudden they’re together all the time. Whether it’s studying on the apartment floor or getting coffee in breaks between classes at uni, winter has started to look a little brighter with every day that Jayce spends with Viktor.
His positive attitude is affected so much, it seems, that even Caitlyn had caught on. One night in a fancy Italian restaurant, she’d asked him with a sly smile if anything had happened recently that he “needed to tell her”.
Of course, she was just dancing around the inevitable truth that they both knew. Jayce only shrugged and shot back a question about Vi in response, to which she had acquiesced with a roll of her eyes.
A large part of him, though, wished there was something to tell her. Caitlyn seems so happy in her relationship, and Jayce misses that familiar feeling. Yearns for it, even. With Viktor.
As he pulls on a sweater and shakes himself out of the memory, Jayce thinks back on the kiss and wishes they had talked about it. Viktor had been so willing, so eager for just a few seconds, before pushing him away. It had been a feeling so dizzying and elating that Jayce had literally dropped everything else to chase it.
But if Jayce was going to ask him out, he should have done it a long time ago. Closer to that day when Caitlyn painted his nails, when he’d left the laundromat with a song stuck in his head.
Because now? Now, they’re friends. If Jayce fucks this up with an unrequited confession, or they try dating and it goes badly, there’s way too much on the line.
The buzzer of his apartment sounds, and Jayce’s heart leaps into his throat.
Stuck in limbo, the depth of his feelings has to remain ignored. Because he can’t talk about it. Because Viktor had pushed him away first. Because they’re comfortable just being friends. Or at least, it’s what he has to tell himself, lest the feeling start to hurt.
“What’s the bucket for?” Viktor asks when Jayce lets him in, glancing at the bright yellow object in the middle of the kitchen floor.
“Ugh, my roof is leaking again,” Jayce groans at the reminder, “I tried asking if I could move to a different room, but the landlord said there are none available right now.”
“Shame.” says Viktor, dumping his laptop bag next to the couch. Then he adds with a small smile, “Let’s put on some study music today then. We can drown the dripping out and pretend it’s not there.”
-
In the dead of winter, Jayce breaks his leg.
It was what could only be described as a freak accident. He’d been in the storage shed getting equipment for football practice, when one of the unstable shelves toppled over and landed on his leg before he even knew what was happening.
What exactly had been damaged, Jayce didn’t know - all he could comprehend was the most agonizing pain he’d ever felt.
Whether it was minutes or hours before somebody came in and found him lying there, passed out from pain, he has no idea. Everything from then until the accident and emergency unit in the hospital is a blur.
He wakes up later with his mother’s panic-stricken face staring at him with wide eyes that flutter shut in relief when he begins to stir. She clasps his hand tightly and mutters a tearful thanks to God. Later, the nurse tells Jayce it was an open fracture of his tibia and fibula.
Or, in simpler terms, he’s fucked.
The doctors prescribe him a surgery within the next week, a metal rod in his leg, six months to heal, chronic pain for the rest of his life, and a grim reality that he might never play sport again.
He breaks the news to Viktor a few hours after he wakes up from surgery, in the form of a photo of his x-rays and the caption “guess who’s gonna be matching your leg brace?”
Viktor, of course, is horrified, and the speed at which he rings Jayce’s phone after receiving the text elicits the first laugh from Jayce since the incident.
Over the next week, in the little hospital room, Viktor even meets Jayce’s mom for the first time. As Jayce expected, she loves Viktor immediately and makes him promise that he’ll come along with Jayce to dinner at her house some time. A few days later, he also meets Caitlyn, and they make awkward smalltalk while Jayce watches on in wonder as his two best friends finally interact. When Viktor gets up to go to the bathroom, Cait leans over and whispers in Jayce’s ear, “This is the guy?”
After Jayce nods, she suddenly starts acting a whole lot friendlier towards him.
–
When he’s finally released from the hospital, Jayce gets the strict instruction to not put any weight on his leg until his physio says it’s ok. And he can’t even complain about using crutches, because Viktor will no doubt whack him with his cane.
As promised, he gets to match Viktor when he gets sent home with a padded brace that goes from foot to knee, keeping his leg completely straight. It comes off easily with velcro, and he uses that ability to trace the surgery scar with dismayed fingers.
Though, it’s certainly not the worst outcome. Jayce honestly expected to get a cast on his leg, but the doctors had explained (in a somewhat patronising tone) that they don’t use casts for breaks like these - the metal in his leg will do the job instead.
He hopes the rod is doing its work, slotted through the inside of his leg bone for the rest of his life, re-knitting the two broken pieces together. It will be fine. Jayce assures himself that everything has to work out, because everything has worked out up until now.
But when he moves back into his apartment, everything hits him hard.
Cold and empty, his ceiling is still fucking leaking, and the new set of crutches leaning against his kitchen bench as he tries to stay on top of assignments just makes him tired. Uni seems like the least of his priorities right now, but alas, the world stops for no one.
Most of the meals he eats at home devolve into a few packets of instant ramen drowning in soup with some half-cooked vegetables, too exhausted (read: lazy) to come up with anything else when it’s just him there. He wishes so guiltily that he’d tried a little harder when his mom asked him to help out with cooking when he was younger; maybe then he’d still be a mess, just a mess meeting all his daily food group requirements. There are other menial things he didn’t expect to struggle with so much - shuffling himself into the bathtub in attempt to shower, grasping onto the showerhead or the curtain rail lest he slip over and damage his leg even further.
Another thing is the silence. The silence is a lot. Strangely, it was never something that bothered him before, but all of a sudden it’s all he can think about. He brings his phone around with him, constantly keeping a playlist on repeat to create the illusion of a lively home.
It’s such a small thing, the apartment, but alone it feels so so big.
Despite the promise of spring coming in less than a month’s time, the temperature remains miserable, and even with plenty of visits to help out, Jayce struggles a lot without his mom living with him. Being alone is hard, and not just on a physical level.
Although, it does mean that Jayce reaches out more frequently to the people who are physically closer to him. Namely Viktor, who only lives two floors away. Barriers break down, phone calls become a lot more frequent, and eventually he and Viktor end up staying at each others places more often than not.
Viktor curiously asks to see the scar one time, and gingerly runs his fingers along the white line splitting Jayce’s calf. The touch leaves a strange feeling in his skin thanks to the nerve damage where the bone broke through his skin. It feels almost like pins and needles, but it’s certainly more tolerable when Viktor is the one causing it.
It feels silly to think that Viktor wouldn’t have understood, because of course he would. Viktor has been looked at with pity his whole life. Of course Jayce knows that. When Viktor looks at Jayce, it isn’t with pity or annoyance. It’s with understanding, and something softer that Jayce can’t describe. It sends butterflies fluttering all through his chest, heats up his face and leaves him breathless and utterly smitten.
When Jayce can eventually walk at a reasonable pace with his crutches, they go on walks together. It feels odd, being so out of control in his own body, but it feels good to finally get out into some sense of normalcy again. They do their grocery shopping together in the little supermarket on the street corner, and Jayce follows Viktor down the linoleum aisles with the fluorescent lights reflecting hearts in his eyes.
In the evenings, when Jayce lies alone in his single bed, the blankets somehow always feeling too thin for the bitter coldness outside, the pain catches up to him. He wallows in it after days of overexertion, the reality that he might never fully recover sinking deep into his bones. His friends from football start texting him less, and he gets it. They never really got to a deeper level of acquaintance than playing sport together anyway.
It’s alright. He still has the people that matter most. His mom. Cait. Mel, Vi, Ekko.
Viktor.
⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
The sun sets before six pm these days, tricking Viktor’s mind into thinking he should be sleepy far earlier than is reasonable. He squeezes his eyes shut and shakes his head, willing himself to stay awake just a little longer. Jayce, who catches him yawn in his peripheral vision, nudges Viktor’s arm. “Want me to make you a coffee?”
Their study materials are scattered across the coffee table in Jayce’s apartment, the two of them side by side on the couch. The yellowish light colouring the tiny living room lulls Viktor into a warm state of relaxation. Nothing is going to get done like this. It’s a Saturday, neither of them have any pressing obligations the following morning, and those assignments aren’t going anywhere. Coffee doesn’t sound like a bad idea at all.
“It’s alright, I can do it,” Viktor offers, gesturing to Jayce’s leg. It’s been just over a month since the accident, and Jayce is still clearly struggling. Thankfully, unlike Viktor himself, Jayce has also been willing to accept help when it’s offered. Although, that doesn’t seem to be the case today.
“No, no, you’re at my place. Let me be a good host.” Jayce counters, reaching down to the floor to grab his crutches.
Viktor narrows his eyes but doesn’t object further, leaning back into the couch cushions, “Are you sure you should be doing that?”
“Yes, of course,” Jayce insists, “I’ve been getting really good at using the crutches recently.” Then, he thinks for a moment, as if he needs evidence to back up his claim, “I can even dance.”
Viktor scoffs, “Dance? Really?”
“Yeah, ‘course!” He stands from the couch and starts doing a weird little boogie across the room, first wiggling his hips with a playful expression, then putting his weight fully on the crutches and kicking both legs in the air.
Viktor laughs loudly, unable to hold in his amusement, and Jayce grins back. “C’mon, join me!”
“That would be a hazard, Jayce, I can hardly walk either.” Viktor protests, dramatically clutching his bad leg, knowing Jayce can see through it. He needs to at least pretend to have dignity.
“I’ll get the ambulance on speed dial.” Jayce jokes, extending a hand for Viktor to take.
Of course Viktor takes it, albeit grumbling, leaving his own cane on the floor and leaning forward against Jayce instead. His eyes are drawn almost magnetically to Jayce’s own, crinkled at the edges in a big grin, and as golden as the sunset. So beautiful that the moment doesn’t even seem real. He wishes so badly that Jayce could let go of the crutches and wrap his arms around Viktor’s waist. Instead, Viktor holds onto Jayce’s broad shoulders, closing his eyes and imagining they’re in love.
They slow dance across the living room to nothing but the sounds of the city. Just the two of them and the air in between them, as if there’s nothing else in the room at all. Any tiredness has quickly vanished, the skin-to-skin contact keeping Viktor buzzing and awake.
When Viktor opens his eyes, he’s met with such a tender expression that his knees start to feel weak. They step slowly in a circle together, too close to acknowledging something unspoken.
“Look at us.” Jayce says, breaking the silence with a whisper. Their legs, one wrapped in a brace and the other in a moon boot. Two imperfect halves of one whole.
Viktor laughs. “What a pair we are."
-
As of late, Viktor has started taking his and Jayce’s washing down to the laundromat at the same time. He feels useful, which is a nice, albeit unfamiliar feeling, but despite the inviting warmth and pleasantly clean smell of the coin laundry, Jayce’s absence strips it of any joy. It’s funny, how important this unassuming little building has become to both of them.
The lonely cycle continues on for a while, until Viktor is recovering from a long day at uni, traipsing downstairs to pick up their washed and dried clothes. To his surprise, when he pushes open the door to feel the rush of warm detergent-scented air, Jayce is there. He’s sitting on one of the washing machines, waiting laundry bag draped over the side. Now that Viktor is seeing it from an outsider perspective, the position really is reminiscent of that one poppy music video he refuses to admit he likes. There’s still about a minute left on the timer for the dryer.
Jayce kicks his feet into the air and his moon boot falls back against the side of the machines with a reverberating thud. “It feels like forever since we’ve both been in here at the same time.”
Viktor gets what he means. Such fond memories began in this place. “This is a bit like… Our spot, you know?”
Jayce grins, “Yeah. It’s our spot.”
Silence, machines whirring. That nostalgic toasty smell. Jayce.
“The first time I saw you here, you were sitting just like this.”
The gentle expression on his face is almost enough to break Viktor. There’s no doubt about it, no use denying it to himself anymore; he’s in love with Jayce Talis. As sure as the winter sky is grey.
“I was,” Viktor jokes, swallowing down the revelation, “I like to watch my clothes get clean from a high vantage point.”
The dryer beeps, and Jayce speaks with complete seriousness as he clumsily hops down, “It is a nice view from up there.”
There’s no way Jayce is that oblivious to what he’s implying, not when he smiles right at Viktor as he says it. Viktor’s heart hurts, and his mind replays the one memory he can’t seem to get out of his head. That perfect kiss, forever unspoken, abandoned beside the powder vending machine.
Sometimes, Viktor can close his eyes and still imagine the feeling of Jayce’s lips on his.
Their reminiscing is interrupted when two familiar faces push their way through the door, throwing quick waves in Jayce and Viktor’s direction, before avidly resuming conversation. Some kind of domestic argument, it seems.
The boy, Steb, adamantly says, “We don’t need a washing machine. We have this one.”
Maddie, who Viktor recognises by her short ginger hair, groans, “It’d be such a good investment, though! Think about how much time we’d save!”
Ah, that answers one question Viktor has always had about the pair of strangers, then - they must be roommates. The two of them continue to bicker as they go about their business in the laundromat, and when they leave, Jayce turns to him.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again.
“What are you thinking?” Viktor asks, hungry for the knowledge of it.
“It seems nice,” Jayce starts, voice becoming quieter with telltale shyness, “being roommates with your best friend.”
“They’re best friends, are they? I, ah, haven’t really talked to them much, so…”
“Viktor,” Jayce’s eyes shine in that infuriatingly beautiful way of his, “um, I wasn’t really talking about Steb and Maddie.”
A thousand imagined scenes flood Viktor’s brain all at once.
Waking up to the smell of already-hot coffee and stepping out of his room to see Jayce already there. Talking about their days as they stand side-by-side in a cramped bathroom. Sitting on the couch with a bad sitcom running in the background until the sun begins to filter through the blinds, just talking and listening and being listened to.
Viktor has never dared to entertain the idea before. But now that he has, it’s dangerous. An addiction waiting to happen, poisoning his veins and wrapping its tendrils around his wildly beating heart. He whispers, disbelieving, “You’d want that?”
“I mean, it would be economical.” Jayce supplies, clearly still trying to gauge Viktor’s reaction.
“That is true. We would only have to pay half our current rent…” Viktor fake-ponders, keeping his voice level while his heart rate is rapidly increasing at the thought of Jayce wearing pajamas. He tosses out another excuse, “Besides, you have that leaky roof.”
“I do.” then he squints, “Your shower doesn’t have a grab bar, does it?”
“Of course it does. I’m not risking slipping and dying and somebody finding me naked.” Viktor says like it’s a stupid question, and then his eyes widen in horror, “Are you telling me you spent weeks, showering alone, with a broken leg and no grab bar?”
Jayce grins.
“Jayce! You’re fucking moving in with me. Or at the very least, using my shower.”
“Are you serious?” It’s only then that Viktor realises Jayce is not simply being practical. He’s excited when he asks, “Can I move in with you?”
Viktor would do anything, if Jayce was the one asking. Stupid, stupid laundromat and stupid, stupid boy making him do stupid, impulsive things. “Of course I’m serious.”
“Okay,” Jayce says, giddy and bouncing on the ball of his good foot, “I’ll call the landlord tonight. I can’t wait to live without noise cancelling headphones and the fear of concussing myself in the shower.”
Viktor stands upon the precipice, teetering over the edge, yet too cowardly to take the plunge and own up to his feelings. He’s going to tell Jayce. He has to - before he’s stuck pining after his best friend for the rest of their shared lease.
⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆
Due to matters of bureaucracy and their landlord being a dick, there’s still a while until Jayce can officially leave his shitty, dripping, lonely apartment and move into room 216 with Viktor. But really, any amount of time is too long when the promise of Viktor being just one wall away at all times lingers constantly in his mind. No longer alone, and he gets to do it with Viktor; the day really can’t come sooner.
Can’t wait to finally be out of here, he texts Viktor on a random Monday night when he’s feeling particularly sentimental.
The response comes after only a few seconds - only a little longer now.
They see each other multiple times a week, but Jayce can’t help but feel that the interaction is reminiscent of a young couple in their honeymoon phase, constantly anticipating their next meeting.
Completely and utterly unrelated to that, Jayce starts wondering if he should buy another bed.
The apartments in this building aren’t exactly spacious and Viktor seems hesitant on converting his precious study into another bedroom just to make room for Jayce. But sleeping on the couch would be detrimental to his back in the long run, and there’s no way they’d share the same room… well, in Jayce’s mind, at least.
Meetings to discuss logistics become more and more frequent as Jayce’s move-in date looms closer. They’ve sorted out extra cutlery and moved his desk into their soon-to-be shared apartment, but still haven’t properly discussed the whole bed thing.
That is until, over toasties and iced coffee, Viktor asks Jayce something out of the blue. He’s been eyeing Jayce weirdly for the last half hour when he finally spits out what’s been on his mind.
“Jayce.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember that time when you kissed me?”
Jayce’s throat closes up. Blood rushes to his cheeks, and he’s sure his face must be bright red with shock (among other things). An involuntary choking sound leaves his mouth, before he shuts it again because he’s not a fucking idiot.
Of course he remembers. Of course. He could never forget something like that. A hazy autumn afternoon in the laundromat, coins clattering and soft lips on his. Quite possibly one of the greatest moments of his life, and one that’s haunted his memory ever since.
Viktor is still staring at him expectantly, so Jayce quietly croaks out a “Yeah.”
Immediately, Viktor presses on. “Do you regret it?”
It takes a second for Jayce to realise he’s being serious. Incredulously, he reaches to grab Viktor’s face from across the table and his skin is alarmingly cold. “No, no no, of course not,” he babbles, vigorously shaking his head, “I couldn’t regret something like that. I just- I don’t know. I don’t wanna screw this up, Vik.”
Because how is else he supposed to describe it? How can you even explain that your life has been fundamentally changed by one person? It would be impossible to put into words just what Viktor means to him. More than a friend. More than a study buddy, or a neighbour, a roommate, or a few coffee dates. Why is it so hard to articulate?
“Okay,” Viktor confesses, voice hoarse, “because I think I’m in love with you.”
Eight words is all it takes for Jayce to understand.
“Oh,” he says dumbly, letting out a long exhale. Viktor’s eyes track his every move, hopeful and waiting and hopeful, until Jayce answers, “Can I kiss you again, to make sure I feel the same?”
He asks, even though he doesn’t need to test his theory at all. He knows now, as clear as day.
Viktor leans in first, and his mouth tastes like coffee and salt off the best cheese toastie Jayce has ever eaten.
–
The transition from friends to more-than-friends is somewhat hard. Jayce is enthusiastic about the new levels of physical touch he’s unlocked, but still hesitant on whether he should hold Viktor’s hand as they cross the road back to the apartment complex, or if that’s too much too fast. Viktor seems similarly apprehensive, glancing sideways at Jayce when he thinks he isn’t looking, and yet averting his eyes when Jayce stares at him for too long. He leans in most of the time, resting his head on Jayce’s shoulder as they sit on the train to uni, but in seemingly random moments he gets a skittish look in his eyes and pulls away, leaving Jayce confused he’s done something wrong.
The awkward in-between stage, filled with tentative touches and nervous flirting, ultimately culminates in a discussion about their rooming situation. They stand over a messy sketch of the apartment layout scribbled on a scrap piece of paper, detailing whose things will go where and what they still need to buy for each room. The issue of the bedrooms remains unsolved.
That is, of course, until Viktor proposes a solution. “What if, instead of changing another room into a bedroom, we just… Both slept in my room?”
Jayce stares at him. “You’d be okay with that?”
“If you are.” Viktor shrugs, clearly aiming for nonchalance, but Jayce can see the tightness in his shoulders.
“Viktor,” Jayce gushes, “I am more than okay with that.” Eyes crinkling cutely at the edges, Viktor laughs in relief and leans in for a quick kiss. Jayce continues, equally glad, “Does this mean I can stop shopping for futons?”
He doesn’t expect a serious answer at all, so he’s left surprised when Viktor goes uncharacteristically quiet. His gaze darts around before finally meeting Jayce’s, and he faintly suggests, “Well, we should test that my bed is comfortable with both of us in it first…”
Oh, it gets tested alright. Quite extensively.
They have sex for the first time in Viktor’s bed, soon to be shared by the both of them. Jayce presses his partner into the mattress, gasping softly into the shared space they’ve made. Both of them voice their insecurities under the safety of the blankets, and undress with loving words and reassuring touches. He lets all the nerves spill out of him as Viktor moans beautifully and enthusiastically into his mouth, holding him like he’s afraid Jayce will disappear. They both take special care with each other, pausing to huff out laughs and fumble around for pillows to ensure neither of them get hurt. Jayce doesn’t even dare to blink through the whole ordeal, afraid to miss even a second of Viktor’s blissful expression.
Any hesitation disappears very quickly after that.
–
There are technically still a couple of weeks before Jayce is supposed to be off crutches, but he’s been feeling a lot stronger lately. So much stronger, in fact, that he makes his way down the elevator and into the laundromat with only one crutch today. His other hand is occupied, holding onto an empty bag. All by himself, he picks up his and Viktor’s clean laundry and his heart swells as he takes it back up to their apartment. Their apartment.
He pushes open the door to see Viktor relaxing on the couch, curled up in a fluffy blue blanket, and his face lights up when Jayce comes in. Jayce hoists the laundry bag into the air, presenting it like a trophy. “Ta-da!"
Viktor snickers, and extracts his arms from the blanket’s warmth to extend them in Jayce’s direction. “Thank you, my saviour.”
Jayce dumps the bag unceremoniously on the coffee table - the clothes can wait - and flops down on the couch into Viktor’s waiting embrace. To Jayce’s great delight, this has become somewhat of a regular occurrence lately. He never really took Viktor as a cuddler, but since becoming more confident initiating affection, Viktor has chased Jayce’s warmth like a moth to flame.
They lie there in silence for a while, and Viktor shuffles down so that his head rests against Jayce’s chest, a position from which he could listen to his heart. If he could hear it, Jayce knows it would be beating rapidly for him.
Out of the blue, Viktor speaks, face still pressed into Jayce’s shirt.
“Jayce.”
“Yeah, baby?” Jayce murmurs, punctuating his sentence with a brush of lips against Viktor’s forehead.
“Do you believe in parallel universes?”
Jayce thumbs through Viktor’s hair, “Where’d this come from all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know, it was just a silly thought.” Viktor huffs and buries himself deeper into Jayce’s chest.
Suddenly serious, Jayce pulls away so that Viktor can see the earnestness on his face. “None of your thoughts are silly to me, V.”
Viktor looks at him incredulously and shakes his head. “You are silly.”
Jayce laughs and catches him by the shirt, pulling him into another tight hug and breathing in the scent of a familiar laundry detergent. Viktor relents, planting little kisses all over Jayce’s face.
“If parallel universes are real,” Jayce says, awfully sure of himself, “I hope I get to meet you in all of them.”
A bashful grin spreads across Viktor’s face, and he ducks his head to look up at Jayce through his eyelashes, “Do you think that’s possible?”
Jayce can’t believe he even has to ask. In any other universe, he’d find a way. In a whimsical fantasy village, he’d court Viktor with poetic letters and elaborate flower bouquets. If it were a hopeless post-apocalyptic earth, he’d fight off hordes of mutated creatures to keep Viktor safe. And if they were ever pit against each other, Jayce would cherish every scratch or bruise left by Viktor, whether it was caused by passionate hate or love.
“Of course I do,” he answers easily and honestly, “you’re the only one for me, in all possibilities.”
Something about the words tastes familiar on his tongue. His leg twinges. Something about space and stars and a tight embrace. Or perhaps that’s just his romanticism talking; being in love does feel a lot like that. Maybe this is just how it feels to be happy.
Satisfied with that answer, Viktor kisses him again, and his world spins.
⋆｡ﾟ🪐｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆