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Things didn’t end as Viktor thought they would. When he and Jayce embraced in the arms of the arcane, surrounded by the lost souls he’d amassed in a misguided pursuit of greatness, Viktor truly expected to die. Or perhaps be undone in a way that went beyond mortal death. That wasn’t the case.
Instead, they lived. It could barely be counted as a mercy. Survival wasn’t easy for the two of them.
Viktor was still a mockery of humanity, only now weakened. His ‘imperfections’, as Jayce put them, returned with a vengeance - tainting this body which should’ve been perfect. He wore the face of a god, yet limped like a man.
Reliving that single moment by the sea; with the wind in his hair, salt on his tongue, and fire in his legs, feet pounding against the pavement as ships off in the distance bellowed like a cheering crowd… it was a pipedream now. In the end, his efforts were for nothing.
Jayce was hardly any better off. His leg was a festering, broken thing. Merely dead weight that the man had to drag around day after day. His body wasn’t his only enemy either. Jayce’s mind was equally against him. Tormenting him with visions and robbing him of sleep - never letting him know a moment of peace.
Viktor took his partner’s suffering personally. Every time Jayce stumbled, every wince he failed to choke down, every mood swing or nightmare; it haunted him.
He wanted to take that pain away. Despite knowing he was wrong to be lured along by the Hexcore’s siren song… the itch remained. Maybe if Viktor was better he could’ve fixed this. Fixed everything.
Nonetheless, they lived. It was a clumsy journey; one riddled with bumps in the road as their broken pieces rubbed against each other. Viktor would like to think they’d improved by now.
The routine they settled into after a few months was nearly domestic. Viktor kept the house clean. Jayce was in charge of cooking. They alternated physical tasks depending on who was in better shape that day. All in all, it was an anticlimactic after-credits to the apocalypse.
Sometimes they even dared to brainstorm ideas together. Never with the intent to follow through. They’d already flown too close to the sun once. Maybe if their burns ever healed… they’d try again, albeit aiming lower this time.
It was as close as the two of them could get to comfortable. Then that routine, as fragile as it was, ended up being shattered by a single question.
Viktor was in the living room on the couch, idly sketching whatever came to mind, while Jayce washed dishes in the connecting kitchen. A squeaky clean, silver plate was held up to his face. Neither of them enjoyed their reflections nowadays. So this was the closest thing they had to a mirror.
Jayce studied his warped mirror image for longer than he should’ve. Long enough that his other hand, still resting in the filled sink, began to prune. He couldn’t bring himself to put the plate down though. Not while an unexplainable sense of wrongness nagged at him.
He couldn’t tell what was causing it at first. Then it hit him. His face was missing something. Body suddenly feeling wooden; he put the plate down, stepped away from the sink, and turned towards his partner.
“Viktor, why did you get rid of my wrinkles?” Jayce asked slowly, almost hesitantly.
“You’re better without them.” Viktor replied without thinking-
“Oh.”
-only to instantly realize he fucked up. Jayce looked like he’d been punched in the gut.
“Better?” He repeated in disbelief.
“I…” Viktor faltered. Then, helplessly, he asked, “Did I do something wrong? I promise that your soul remains untainted.”
For some reason, Jayce took a step back. He was quiet when he said, “That’s not the problem.”
“Then what is? I know how important your appearance is to you, Jayce. And stress did you no favors, prematurely aging you as it did. So I simply, eh, sought to correct that.”
“You could’ve at least asked!” Jayce snapped.
Viktor flinched at the reminder of who he used to be. A person who considered consent optional, priding himself on knowing better to the point of delusion.
“I- I should have, yes. I earnestly apologize for that blunder.”
Jayce relaxed a margin. It didn’t last.
“But wouldn’t you have agreed regardless?” Viktor asked pleadingly.
He didn’t want to live with the knowledge that he’d done his partner wrong on such a grand scale. It was one thing to act without permission, confident that it didn’t matter since the result would be the same either way. Robbing Jayce of a choice he didn’t want… that was a different beast entirely.
“Maybe. I don’t know.” Jayce said at first, but then shook his head. “No. I wouldn’t have. I’m not the same person I used to be. Pretending otherwise just hurts.”
“...So you were content to look as you did?”
“Being content has nothing to do with it! It doesn't matter if I hated them. Those wrinkles were a part of me and you took them-”
Jayce stopped mid-sentence. An odd look crossed his face. It was horror, acceptance, and defeat all in one. Like an exhausted prey animal that understood it was not much longer for this world. Facing an unpleasant certainty it’d long since expected, yet dreaded nonetheless.
Before Viktor could even begin to wonder what was on Jayce’s mind, the man was speaking up. In a tone that suggested he already knew the answer, Jayce asked:
“Be honest. Do you think I’d be better if I wasn’t disabled?”
The temperature in the room dropped.
Viktor wanted to say that, yes, Jayce would objectively be better if he had two perfectly functioning legs… except he knew that wasn’t what the other wanted to hear. So instead, Viktor didn’t say anything. He couldn’t find the words to.
That silence was possibly the worst answer he could’ve given. Jayce deflated right before his eyes.
“Okay.” He muttered, more to himself than anything.
“Jayce-”
“I’m not mad. I… I know why you think that. I just-” He turned away from Viktor, “I’m going for a walk.”
This was somehow worse than the anger which came before. As listless as a ghost, Jayce walked out the door. He didn’t spare a glance at Viktor before disappearing. That left the other in shock.
Viktor gawked uselessly for a few minutes, struggling to understand Jayce’s perspective. His other actions might’ve been inexcusable but, if nothing else, he prided himself on this.
His followers came to him broken. Addicted, disease-ridden, blemished. So Viktor went above and beyond for them. Not only curing their ails; but smoothing out their skin, straightening their features, and settling their impairments. Every person was a sculpture under his hand - as pretty as porcelain by the end.
It was everything Viktor wanted for himself, yet knew he didn’t deserve. He saw the flaws in himself and aimed to correct them for everyone else. The problem laid in him being blind enough to alter their beings as well. If not for that, wasn’t his work an act of mercy?
He couldn’t imagine why Jayce- or anyone else, for that matter -wouldn’t want to be perfect.
...
There was a screech of wood against wood as Viktor stood up from his chair. Having to lean most of his weight on his cane, he stormed towards the door. All the while mentally cursing himself out for falling back onto old habits.
What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he learned where this mindset led by now?
People were broken little things. Himself included. That didn’t mean it was right to fix anyone. Viktor couldn’t keep imposing his whims and wishes onto others. Especially not Jayce. It disgusted him to know that the Hexcore was gone. These thoughts were entirely his own.
Gods. He had to apologize.
Winds buffeted his face as Viktor exited the haven him and Jayce had built together. They ended up settling far away from civilization, out alongside the coastline of Ionia. Their cottage faced the open ocean on top of a cliffside. There wasn’t much in regards to shrubbery. That meant Viktor could see his partner just off in the distance.
Jayce was sitting near the edge, knees to his chest and hugging himself. His partner’s cane rested against his shoulder. Unthinkingly, Viktor’s grip on his own tightened. He strode over with purpose. The other’s back was turned to him.
Jayce either didn’t notice his approach, or didn’t address it. Not until Viktor stopped a few feet away from him. Even then, his eyes didn’t stray from the line where the sky met the ocean.
There was a pause. Then, surprisingly, Jayce took the initiative.
“Did you think I was ugly?” He asked quietly.
Viktor’s heart ached. Regret evident in his tone, he breathed out, “Of course not.”
That didn’t bring Jayce the comfort he hoped it would. If anything, the other’s mood seemed to worsen. He got to his feet in a single motion, wincing halfway through the act, and gestured at himself sharply. Heartbreak carved harsh lines into his face - replacing the ones he’d lost.
“So why did you need to make me ‘better’!?”
The shout was so unexpected Viktor automatically took a step back.
“I don’t- I didn’t mean-”
He plowed on before Viktor could gather his thoughts.
“What’ll you do if I get wrinkles again? Or if I go bald early, or break another limb, or- or get disfigured or something? Would you ‘fix’ me again!?”
“I’d never!” Viktor shook his head, throat tightening with horror just at the thought.
“Then would you still love me!?” Jayce screamed, words ripped raw right out of his chest.
That shocked Viktor silent. All that filled the air for a moment was Jayce’s labored breathing - heavy with anger and grief both. The former soon fled him, leaving only the latter. His expression crumbled. Arms fell limp to his sides as water built in his eyes. They screwed shut.
“Because it-” He choked back tears, “It feels like you won’t if I’m not… perfect.”
Viktor sucked a sharp breath in through his teeth. Perfect. That word always came back to haunt him. What he once strove for, what he regretted more than anything. Perfection.
“I want to believe that won’t happen, but my mind won’t let me. I can’t stop thinking about how I won’t be enough for you someday. And that it’d be better if we just got everything over with now.” Jayce confessed, unable to keep from crying.
His sobs were swallowed by the sound of a wave crashing against the cliffside below. Salt sprayed up in a halo over Jayce’s back. There were a million things Viktor could’ve said then. One nagged at him far more than most - watching his partner break down in this location specifically.
“Jayce, please get away from the edge.” Viktor whispered shakily.
He froze; body tensing up and tears put on pause. There was no describing his expression. Then, after a second that felt like an eternity, he stiffly moved forwards. Viktor caught him by the arms and shuffled them a safe distance away from the cliff.
“I wasn’t…” Jayce trailed off, unable to voice Viktor’s worries out loud.
“I know.” He muttered. His fingers didn’t agree though. They refuse to uncurl. As if trying to convince his own body; Viktor repeated firmly, “I know.”
His eyes were glued to the buttons on Jayce’s shirt. It took all of his strength to meet the other’s gaze. Moist, reddened eyes stared down at him. Viktor wouldn’t even call Jayce’s expression sad anymore. He just looked defeated. Over what, Viktor wasn’t sure. Everything perhaps.
Jayce opened his mouth. Then he closed it without a word. Viktor did the exact same. Neither of them knew what to say. Eventually, Viktor was the one to break the ice.
“You’d think we’d be better at this by now.” He said weakly, finally releasing the other’s arms.
“Yeah.”
Another pause. Then Jayce covered his face with a palm.
“God, I’m blowing this way out of proportion. It’s just some wrinkles.” He chuckled darkly, utterly lacking in humor. “Besides, you weren’t really yourself when you did it. It’s not your fault.”
The fact Jayce’s first instinct was to backtrack didn’t escape Viktor’s notice. Gut curling, he had to wonder how often Jayce did this. Brushing off his own emotions to avoid upsetting Viktor. Reviewing the last few months over in his head; Viktor realized something. Jayce was always the one there for him… and he didn’t return the favor nearly as often as he should.
“No. I think I needed to hear this.” Viktor admitted, his voice as fragile as glass.
Fingers parted slightly, allowing golden irises to peer through the cracks. Viktor took that as a sign to keep going.
“It’d be easier to contribute my actions to the Hexcore. And yet, I’ve acted no better as of late. Less drastically, sure, but not kinder. And certainly not more mindful. I cannot in good conscience absolve myself. When I think back on that time, I don’t see myself in a stranger’s shoes. I was simply… the worst aspects of myself. Some of which I’ve yet to shed.”
The unhappy twist to Jayce’s lips implied that he was well aware of that fact. Viktor hated to think of what behaviors the other was thinking of. How many off-handed comments did he make in the past that Jayce took to heart without his knowing? Suddenly, it felt like he should be apologizing for far more than he already was.
“I’ve always wanted to fix people. Not help, not heal, not save. Fix.” Viktor swallowed dryly, “Same as I needed to be-”
Jayce cut him off, hand dropping to Viktor’s shoulder, as he asserted, “You didn’t. You weren’t broken, Viktor, you were sick.”
Viktor hung his head low; hiding his expression behind hair. Even now, after all this time, that was still a sentiment he couldn’t accept.
“Broken. Sick. They hold different connotations, yes… yet what’s the difference in the grand scheme of things? The result is the same.”
The hand on his shoulder slowly pulled away. Jayce mumbled, “...It hurts me when you say stuff like that.”
“Jayce, I appreciate that you care on my behalf-”
“That’s not it.” He shook his head sadly, “I mean, I do care but…”
His eyes traveled downwards. Viktor’s own followed on instinct. They landed on the same target. Jayce’s brace.
“You think I’m broken too.” He muttered.
“I-”
“You do.”
There was no judgement in his tone. Only plain, unopinionated certainty. It was as if he was listing off a simple fact. Maybe that’s why Viktor found he couldn’t protest. His actions spoke for him already.
“I thought I came to terms with this already. Everything else between us has been so good, and you never said it outloud, so I just…” Jayce’s voice was dead with resignation when he said, “Ignored that you can’t love all of me.”
He might as well have stabbed Viktor. That wasn’t an exaggeration. Viktor knew with absolute certainty that being run through with a dull, rusty blade would’ve hurt less than hearing this. It was only now that his eyes were fully opened to the damage that he’d done. Jayce was a mirror to everything Viktor hated about himself. Regardless of how internal his biases were, they still reflected onto his partner.
“I want to.” Viktor said. Except that wasn’t enough, so he amended, “I’m going to.”
Jayce reeled back a margin. His eyes widened. First in surprise, before hope blossomed in his gaze. It was a fragile thing - evident in how shaky his next words were.
“You mean that?”
The fact he sounded so shocked stung. How little effort did Jayce think he was worth? Viktor gulped once before continuing.
“Undoubtedly. I refuse to allow bitterness to cloud my judgement any longer. After all I’ve done, I can’t consider myself a good man… but I will strive to be better. For your sake.”
Carefully choreographing his movements, Viktor reached to cup Jayce’s cheeks. The man leaned into his touch with an eagerness that could only come from hunger and heartbreak. Jayce shivered when Viktor’s thumb ran underneath an eye, tracing lines which should’ve been there.
“You are not broken, Jayce. For that I’m certain. Anyone who believes otherwise is the one at fault.”
‘Including me’ went unsaid. It hung in the air regardless. After a few seconds' pause; Jayce managed to swallow back the pit in his throat, adam's apple bobbing at the motion, and spoke up.
“Okay.” He mumbled once, uncertainly. Then again, softer. “Okay.”
The acceptance sounded real this time. Timid, yet real all the same. Viktor didn’t dare utter another word; afraid that he’d somehow put his foot in his mouth. Silence settled over the pair.
It was strange that, although they’d both been laid bare to the bone by this conversation, that exposure didn’t itch. Not like Viktor expected it to. They simply… saw each other. The good, the bad, the ugly. The imperfections. For once, Viktor understood:
Beauty was in the eye of the beholder.
The mesh of multicolored scar tissue along Jayce’s spine and shin. The way his ribs jutted out of his skin. The fogginess in his gaze whenever hallucinations came to haunt him. Jayce wore those burdens with beauty, simply because he lived in spite of it all.
That was the secret. Life in itself was beautiful. No amount of hardship could change that. And in the end… what was a mural, without a few cracks? Paving them over would only be erasing what made the original special.
Viktor merely wished he realized that sooner.
There was no telling how long they spent like that. Jayce’s eyes fluttered shut after a point. His world narrowed down onto the feeling of Viktor’s fingers on his face, and the ambience of waves crashing against the cliffside.
Whether it be emotionally, physically, or a combination of the two; he was clearly exhausted. Borderline drifting off where he stood. Eventually, Viktor took the lead. He took Jayce by the hand and led them back to their cottage. His partner followed without complaint. Jayce didn’t even bother opening his eyes for most of the journey.
Only once they were inside, ending up on the couch rather than the bed, did the man fully collapse.
It was rare for Jayce to look peaceful nowadays. Sleep was the closest he got, and that was only when his dreams decided to be kind. This was one such instance. Getting to lay his head in Viktor’s lap, lulled to rest by fingers threading repeatedly through his hair, was probably why.
With a carefulness someone would usually reserve for a baby bird, Viktor cradled his partner - not moving even an inch in fear of accidentally waking him. Jayce’s mouth was slightly ajar. That allowed his bunny teeth to peek into Viktor’s view. Just barely. Almost as if they were shy of his shrewd gaze.
For some reason, Viktor couldn’t bring himself to look away. Sleep was impossible in this body. That left him to stew in his thoughts. His gaze never once left Jayce’s mouth. As hours passed, his mind drifted to the past.
Viktor remembered coming along for Jayce’s ‘Man of Progress’ portrait, standing in the corner unable to decide between relief or bitterness that he wasn’t the one being painted.
It was originally planned to be a smiling portrait. So Jayce fastened his trademark poster boy smile, the one perfectly tailored for audiences, and the artist cringed. He told Jayce to stop.
‘Nevermind. A closed mouth, stern expression shall suit this better. Your teeth would be a distraction.’
Jayce waved it off afterwards, saying that the guy was a prick but it was an easier face to maintain. The memory stuck with Viktor regardless.
As a thought experiment, he considered what if Jayce was a stranger instead. Someone who came to be healed for their broken leg. Going simply off appearances, without any prior emotional attachments, what else would Viktor have fixed in his pursuit of perfection.
...
He imagined a Jayce with straight, even teeth and cried.