Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The phone screeching woke him up, the piercing sound rupturing his brain like an icepick through the ear. Jayce groaned, rolling over in bed, burying his head into his pillows. The phone didn’t shut up. He groaned louder, as if that would appease it, shoving a pillow over his ears to ignore his alarm. The fuck did he even set an alarm so early for?

But slowly, his sleepy ears registered what sound his phone was making. It wasn’t an alarm sound, it was his ringtone. Who in the godamn hell was ringing him at such an early hour?

Blindly, he reached out, searching his blankets in the dimness of his room for his phone. He found the charging cable, and followed it up towards his the wall. He found his phone clinging to the edge of the bed for dear life. The blue light hit Jayce like a slap and he squinted at the caller ID.

“Viktor…?” 

Why was Viktor calling so early? Panic seized him, immediately waking him from his previous slumber. Why would Viktor be calling so early, unless it was some kind of emergency? Surely —

He picked up the call, bringing the phone to his ear, his heartbeat hammering in his throat. 

“Viktor?”

“Jayce, finally.” Viktor didn’t sound upset, he didn’t sound distressed or worried or anything. In fact, he just sounded vaguely amused. “Are you dressed?”

“Uh…no?” what a weird question. “Why?”

Viktor huffed, like Jayce was slow. “Because I want to get coffee, obviously. You said we were meeting at six?”

Realisation slowly dawned on him. A week ago, they’d finally set up a proper date and time for Viktor to come over and shoot a video with Jayce for a collab for their channels. It had been about a month since meeting at VidCon, but though they hadn’t seen each other in person since then, too caught up in producing their youtube content, they were always calling and texting throughout the week. 

The only times Viktor wasn’t available was Friday evenings and most of Saturday. Though he wasn’t very religious, he kept the Shabbat no matter where he was in the world, and one of the first things Jayce learned about that was there was no technology during Shabbat. It was the one time where Viktor lit candles instead of turning on the lights, and turned off any electronic device he had, excluding his phone (he put it into flight mode, but he didn’t use it unless receiving an emrgecny call, or needing to make one). Viktor being MIA during Shabbat meant that Jayce did a lot of his editing while he wasn’t being distracted by his texts. It also meant that he stopped streaming during the time, instead he changed his streaming schedule to during the week instead. He knew Viktor liked having his stream on while he was working on editing or script writing. 

At some point, without Jayce even realizing it, Viktor had settled into every corner of his life.

It wasn’t just the morning texts—though those were the first thing Jayce looked at, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he typed out responses still half-asleep. It was the way he now checked his phone constantly , waiting for a message, a meme, a late-night rant about whatever ridiculous research rabbit hole Viktor had fallen into.

It was the way his day felt just a little off when Viktor was too busy to text. The way his evenings were spent in calls with him, arguing over video ideas, watching movies together from separate apartments, both pretending they weren’t just looking for excuses to stay on the line. Jayce’s entire schedule had shifted—subtly, imperceptibly—so that it revolved around Viktor. And he didn’t know if Viktor even noticed. If he cared . If it meant anything more than friendship to him.

But for Jayce? It was everything.

They had agreed to meet up at six, but Jayce was not a morning person. Viktor rose with the sun (or just didn’t sleep? Jayce still wasn’t sure, Viktor kept weird hours), Jayce decidedly did not . He realised he hadn’t actually clarified if they were meeting in the AM or the PM. Partly because he didn’t think he had to, who in their right mind meet up at 6AM?

“Vik, I think we have very different definitions of six o’clock.” he mumbled, falling back against his pillows.

"Ohhh. Makes more sense, yeah." There was a pause, and then a soft chuckle. “You’re still in bed aren’t you? Did I wake you up štěňátko?”

“Mmm…mmhm.” Jayce smushed his face against his pillows, resting his phone loosely on his ear so he could snuggle his cold hands back under the covers. 

“Well get up, I’m outside your door and it’s cold out here.” Viktor said. “Let me in before I start scratching at the door like a stray.”

“You wouldn’t.” Jayce muttered.

He heard the distinct sound of scratching on the door, followed by a pitiful rendition of a cat’s meow. Jayce groaned. 

“Stop that you weirdo,” he held the phone to his head again as he sat up, blinking slowly. “You’re gonna make the neighbours think I’m friends with a furry or some shit.”

Viktor laughed. Jayce’s phone beeped, indicating he’d received a text. He frowned, pulling the phone away and minimizing their phonecall to see Viktor had sent him a selfie of him pouting, doing his best impression of Puss in Boots with the gaint sad eyes. He just groaned again.

“Fuck off, go home.” he rubbed at his face, still feeling sluggish. 

“Come on, I’m cold!” Viktor whined. “You’re gonna leave a crippled man out here in freezing morning air? I’ll get hypothermia and die, and then I’ll haunt your ass.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Jayce yawned, stretching out his back, reluctantly swinging his feet out of bed. An unpleasant chill ran up his spine as his bare feet came into contact with the cold floorboards. “Alright I’m coming, keep your pants on.”

“Hurry up Jayce,” Viktor was petulant now, scratching at the front door with his nails. 

His nose was a pale pink when Jayce finally opened the door. His cheeks flushed with morning chill, fingers stiffly wrapped around his phone at his ear. But he smiled when he saw Jayce, and it was worth being woken up so early to see that angelic smile. 

“Get in quick, you’re letting the cold in.” Jayce shivered, letting Viktor into the hallway. Viktor shuffled in, his backpack slung over one shoulder. Navigating the narrow hall with his crutch was a bit annoying, but at least Jayce didn’t have more than one floor in his apartment.

Jayce became acutely aware that he was only in boxers. “Just uh…just head on into the kitchen, lemme just get something on.”

“Oh no, I wouldn’t dream of it.” Viktor smirked, his eyes trailing down his exposed chest. “Seriously.” 

Jayce felt his entire body heat up—not from the cold, but from the way Viktor was looking at him. It wasn’t just amusement; there was something sharp beneath it, something appraising. Like he was taking his time, enjoying the view.

Jayce cleared his throat and crossed his arms over his chest, suddenly feeling a lot more exposed than he had a second ago. “Seriously,” he echoed, voice a little rougher than he intended. “Gimme a sec.”

Viktor just chuckled, stepping further into the apartment. “If you insist puppy. But I hate to lose the view.”

Jayce nearly tripped over his own damn feet.

He spun around before Viktor could see the way his face was definitely betraying him and made a beeline for his bedroom.

This is fine. This is totally fine.

Except it wasn’t fine, because Viktor was sitting in his kitchen, still looking like that, still saying things like that, and Jayce was pretty sure if he didn’t pull himself together, he was going to lose his damn mind.

It was too early for this goddamn it.

This was Viktor’s first time in Jayce’s apartment, and of course, the little gremlin wasted no time snooping. By the time Jayce emerged from his room, now fully dressed, Viktor was already deep into the Jayce Lore as he would later call it, his sharp gaze cataloging every detail in the living room like a scientist dissecting a specimen.

“That your father?” Viktor asked, pointing at a framed photo on the bookshelf.

Jayce sidled up beside him, sighing as he looked at the old picture. The man in uniform stared back, grinning.

“Yeah. That’s Papi. Jonah Talis; 3rd MAW, MAG-16.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow.

“Third Marine Aircraft Wing, Aircraft Group Sixteen,” Jayce clarified. “He flew helicopters in Afghanistan.”

Jayce picked up the frame, his thumb brushing over his father’s face—the same strong jawline, the same confident smile. “This was taken not long after he made Major. Mama was so proud. I told everyone at school he was better than a superhero because he was real.”

Viktor smiled. “He’s quite handsome. I can see where you get it from.”

Jayce chuckled. “Yeah, Ma thought so too. They met in Mexico City at a party. He’d taken Columbus Day off with some other guys, and he and Ma danced all night. Got married two months later.”

“Quick,” Viktor hummed. “They must have been in love.”

Jayce shrugged. “Military thing. They don’t get much time, so when they find someone, they don’t waste it. He was nineteen. Ma was eighteen. She always says love doesn’t have a timeline.” His voice softened. “They were together sixteen years. Never had a single fight.”

Viktor glanced at him—at the way the warmth in his smile faded into something quieter, the way his thumb kept moving, restless, over the glass.

“He died when I was still a kid.” Jayce’s voice had that careful, forced steadiness of someone who had told this story too many times. “Taliban attack. He was evacuating injured infantry when his chopper got hit. Crashed.” He swallowed hard. “They told us… he survived the initial crash. Got the wounded out. But he died in the field hospital a day later.”

Viktor laid a hand on his arm, thumb brushing slow, grounding. He leaned in, resting his chin lightly on Jayce’s shoulder.

“He sounds like a good man,” Viktor murmured. “A hero. You must be proud.”

Jayce let out a shaky breath and nodded. He blinked away his tears.

After a moment, Viktor gestured toward a small display case. “Are these his?”

“Copies,” Jayce said. “Ma has the originals. When she passes, they’ll come to me, and I’ll give these to Cait.” He pointed them out. “Purple Heart—that’s automatic for being wounded in combat. Silver Star—for heroism. Distinguished Flying Cross. Meritorious Service Medal. And the Navy Commendation Medal with Valor.”

Viktor picked up the case, inspecting the medals. “My father has this one.” He tapped the Meritorious Service Medal. “Or the NATO version anyway.”

Jayce blinked. “Your dad was military?”

“Medic.” Viktor turned the case in his hands. “Served in the Czech infantry, attached to a US division in Afghanistan. Before that, Balkans. NATO peacekeeping. And before that…” He huffed a quiet laugh. “Before that, he fought in the Velvet Revolution. Anti-communist resistance. Apparently the things he did during that era...well, he says one should never kill unless one has absolutely no other choice.”

Jayce absorbed that, mind flashing to the scarring on Viktor’s father’s face. It made sense now.

“He wanted to be a doctor,” Viktor continued, “but back then, Jews weren’t welcome in many universities. So he studied in secret, borrowing books from a friend—a Brit named Vander. They took practice exams together.” A small, wry smile. “Uncle Vander encouraged me to leave Europe when things started shifting again. He and Tati didn’t want politics to ruin my future.”

Jayce hesitated, then asked, “His injuries—an IED?”

Viktor’s expression flickered. “Yeah. Burned and hit with shrapnel. He was escorting American medics and civilians when they were ambushed.” His fingers drummed lightly against the glass case. “Tati says he doesn’t remember how he got out. Just that he did. The service record says he carried people out under fire. Made multiple trips. Took the blast shielding someone else.” He exhaled slowly. “They gave him the Medaile Za Hrdinství—our Medal for Heroism. And the U.S Bronze Star.” His lips twitched. “Tati always speaks fondly of Americans. You’d like him I think — he’d like you.”

Jayce stared at him for a long moment. Then, without thinking, he pulled Viktor in—a quick, firm squeeze. A thank-you, without words.

Viktor didn’t pull away. 

“We should go out for coffee.” he suggested, meeting Jayce’s gaze. “My treat?”

“Yeah, sure.” Jayce smiled.

“Go have a shower first though, I refuse to be seen in public with you while your hair is looking like that .” Viktor pointed up to his messy hair. It was growing longer, and he needed to shave. 

Jayce scoffed, ruffling his already-disastrous hair just to be annoying. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”

Viktor wrinkled his nose. “Jayce, it looks like you’ve been electrocuted. Twice.”

Jayce laughed, shaking his head. “Alright, alright, I’ll go shower. But if you’re making me presentable, you’d better be ready to pay for extra pastries.”

Viktor smirked. “Fine. But only because I want to eat half of them.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but grinned as he grabbed a towel and headed for the bathroom. Viktor, left alone, took the opportunity to snoop a little more—not that Jayce would mind. His eyes flicked back to the bookshelf, his eyes roaming the other photos there. Pictures of Jayce at his highschool graduation, standing beside his mother with a proud smile. Pictures of his sister Caitlyn, of other friends Viktor didn’t know. 

Viktor sighed, tapping his fingers against the bookshelf before moving toward the couch and flopping down. He rubbed at his knee absentmindedly, letting his head tilt back against the cushions.

A little later, Jayce emerged from the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his damp hair. He’d shaved, which Viktor begrudgingly admitted (to himself) made him look even more annoyingly handsome.

“Well?” Jayce spread his arms. “Acceptable?”

Viktor hummed in consideration, then reached out and flicked a stray droplet of water from Jayce’s cheek. “Passable.”

Jayce huffed a laugh. “High praise.”

Viktor pushed himself up from the couch, grabbing his cane. “Come on, I need my coffee before I do any stupid challenge videos with you, or whatever you have planned.”

Jayce clutched his chest in mock offense. “Viktor, you wound me.”

“Yes, yes, you’ll recover. Now hurry up before I change my mind and make you pay.”

Jayce grinned, grabbing his jacket and leading the way out.

Chapter Text

“Pretty place, nice recommendation Jayce.” Viktor smiled, looking around the café. 

“Thanks, yeah I used to come here all the time. My ma’s place is not far from here actually, couple streets down. So I was here like, literally every day when I was in highschool. I worked at the restaurant just down there, so I’d hang out here after school before my shift started.” Jayce said, the little bell ringing again as he closed the door behind them. “Haven’t been back in a long while though.” 

“Alright, you go find us a nice table and I’ll order for us. What do you want?” Viktor asked. 

“Americano, and one of their breakfast muffins, the ham and cheese one.” Jayce answered automatically, before he paused and frowned. “If–I mean, if that’s not offensive.” at Viktor’s raised eyebrow, he stammered on, “you know, the pork?” 

“Oh, Jayce I don’t care.” Viktor huffed an amused laugh. “ You can eat whatever you like,”

Jayce let out a relieved chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Right. Yeah. Just, you know—didn’t want to be an ass about it. Didn’t know if you kept kosher and that — do you?”

“I do, yes. Where I can. It’s not always easy to find kosher foods.” Viktor answered. “But my dietary restrictions are mine, Jayce. You have no obligation to do anything, in my presence or not.” Viktor shook his head softly, still smirking as he made his way to the counter. “You are very considerate, but I promise, I will not be scandalized by your breakfast choices.”

Jayce watched him go, eyes lingering on the way Viktor leaned slightly on his cane, but still moved with easy confidence. He looked comfortable here, which made Jayce smile—like Viktor belonged in the quiet hum of the café, the soft clatter of ceramic cups and the low murmur of morning conversations folding around him.

With a shake of his head, Jayce turned and scanned the room for a table. Most of the café was taken up by cozy booths with wooden tabletops worn smooth from years of use. The windows were large, letting in golden morning light that pooled across the hardwood floors. A little bookshelf sat tucked in the corner, half-filled with well-worn novels and abandoned paperbacks.

Jayce chose a booth near the window, sliding into the seat and stretching out a little with a sigh. This place still felt the same. The scent of freshly brewed coffee, warm pastries, and something faintly cinnamon-like brought back memories of long afternoons studying, doodling in the margins of his physics notes, waiting for his shift to start at the restaurant down the street. It felt... nostalgic, but not in a sad way. Just familiar.

Viktor returned a moment later, setting Jayce’s muffin down before sliding in across from him.

“There you are,” Viktor said, pushing the little plate forward lightly. “Also, the woman at the counter says they still remember you.”

Jayce blinked, surprised. “What?”

“She asked if I was meeting ‘Ximena’s boy.’ I assumed it was you she was referring to” Viktor smirked. “Apparently, you were quite the charmer in your teenage years.”

Jayce groaned, covering his face with one hand. “Oh, God. That means Rosa’s still working here, huh?”

“That would be her, yes.”

Jayce peeked through his fingers and found Viktor watching him with something warm and fond in his expression. He dropped his hand with a laugh. “Man. She used to give me extra whipped cream on my drinks when I came in. Told me I had a ‘face too nice to frown.’”

“I think she has a point.”

Jayce rolled his eyes, picking up his cup. “Yeah you would say that.”

Viktor giggled. 

Viktor only hummed in amusement as he leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on the table. “So, tell me, what was teenage Jayce Talis like? Since the café staff apparently still remembers you. Must have made quite the impression.”

Jayce grinned. “Oh, you know. Handsome, brilliant, effortlessly cool—”

Viktor snorted. “Ah, yes. And so humble.”

Jayce laughed, nudging Viktor’s foot under the table. “Alright, alright. I was… pretty much the same, I guess? Just younger, a little dumber. Spent most of my time here, at the restaurant, or at home working on projects in the garage. Ma worked a lot, so I took care of myself, and Cait.” He took a sip of his coffee. “I had friends, but I was always busy. Always trying to be—” He hesitated, glancing down at his drink before huffing a soft laugh. “Trying to be something great, I guess. Make my folks proud.”

Viktor studied him for a moment, something unreadable in his gaze. Then he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of Jayce’s hand—just a brief touch, warm and grounding.

“I think you have done that,” he said simply.

Jayce looked up, his chest going a little tight at the certainty in Viktor’s voice. He swallowed, then smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yes.” Viktor’s expression softened. “I think they would be very proud of you, Jayce.”

Jayce let out a breath, some quiet, unseen weight easing from his shoulders.

He turned his hand over, palm up, and Viktor let his fingers linger a moment longer before pulling back.

“Ma didn’t really understand it when I told her about the streaming thing. She was worried I wouldn’t be able to support myself, begged me to go back to school, give it another shot despite the restrictions.” 

Viktor hummed. “My family were the same. I spent all this money coming to the States for my education, only to throw it away for social media. Tati demanded I come home immediately—he was angry. Well, not angry , he was worried. Wanted me to be home so he knew I was taken care of.” 

“Yeah I hear that. Parents, right?” Jayce grinned. “They just don’t get it. It’s a new age, can make a living outta anything nowadays.”

“Sure, but I think we both didn’t actually think our channels would go anywhere. Not like they have. Now I’m a published author, you were on Youtbue Rewind last year? It’s gone further than we ever planned.” 

“Suppose that’s true.” Jayce absently tore bits off his muffin, nibbling at it as they spoke. “So what was teenager Viktor…what is your last name, actually?

“Nováček.” Viktor answered. “Though, as a teenager it would have been Nováčková, technically.”

Jayce frowned mid-chew. “Why?”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, štěně.” Viktor scolded, smacking his arm. The waitress arrived, setting down their coffees in front of them, pausing their conversation. 

Jayce thanked her, Viktor nodding politely as she asked if they needed anything else. Still, after seven years, he wasn’t used to American customer service. One thing he preferred about Europe was being left alone. But, this was a different culture here, and he was already calculating an acceptable tip in his mind for the smiling girl.

As she headed back behind the bar, Viktor continued his explanation.

“Reason is because I was a girl, Czech surnames change to the feminine if you’re a girl. So my father’s surname is Nováček, but my mother, Jinx and I had Nováčková as our surname. It fits better with our grammar system. But, I adopted the masculine form when I came here.”

Jayce swallowed his bite of muffin, eyebrows still furrowed. “That’s so weird. Like, you’re all part of the same family, but you don’t have the exact same last name?”

Viktor shrugged. “It is just how Czech works. If a name does not follow the grammar rules, it sounds strange to us.” He took a sip of coffee, smirking. “So, technically, I have outgrown my old name.”

Jayce grinned. “I like that way of putting it. Did you get it legally changed?”

Viktor’s smile faded slightly, and he shook his head. “Not in Czechia, no. There, I am still Nováčková.” He tapped his fingers against the table. “You cannot legally change your gender marker unless you have… let’s say, met certain medical requirements.”

Jayce winced. “The invasive kind, I’m guessing?”

Viktor huffed a dry laugh. “Oh, yes. If I had transitioned in Czechia, I would have had to go through court, psychiatric evaluations, and—ah, the best part—they would require me to be sterilized.”

“What?!” Jayce’s expression twisted in disgust. “ Jesus .”

Viktor hummed softly, his eyes downcast. “Yes, it is quite...barbaric, in my opinion. That is why I never tried to change anything back home. It was easier to wait until I left.” He gestured vaguely. “Here, I can be Viktor Nováček, no questions asked. My American documents align with my identity just fine. But legally, back home, I am still… someone else.”

Jayce leaned back in his chair, exhaling. “Man, that’s rough. It’s gotta be weird, being stuck in that kind of limbo.”

Viktor shrugged one shoulder. “It is what it is. I do not go back often, only for Pesach and Rosh Hashannah, so it is not a problem most of the time. But when I travel, let us just say that airport security is always fun.”

Jayce shook his head. “Damn. I had it way easier. I mean, the US is a mess with this kind of stuff depending on the state, Cali is pretty good with it, but since I’m a dual citizen, I actually did most of my legal transition in Mexico.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Mexico lets you change your documents without medical proof?”

Jayce nodded. “Yeah, you just have to make a declaration. No surgery required, no court battle, no waiting forever. So I did that first, and then used my updated Mexican documents to change my US ones. It was still a process, but way smoother than it would’ve been otherwise.”

Viktor hummed in thought. “I did not have that luxury.” He sighed, stirring his coffee. “In the end, I suppose it does not matter. I live here now. It is just a piece of paper.”

Jayce reached across the table, giving Viktor’s wrist a quick squeeze. “Yeah, but still. That’s gotta be frustrating.”

Viktor’s expression softened, and he nodded. “It is. But I try not to dwell on it. I just pretend I’m cosplaying when I go home, I call it my ‘girlsona’, Jinx and I make a game out of it.”

Jayce looked thoughtful. “If you became an American citizen, could you get a US passport and use that to change it back home? 

“No, it wouldn’t change the Czech documents. Not unless I gave up my citizenship. But I could rely on an American passport. Makes travelling within Europe more annoying, not being part of the Union, but…eh.” Viktor shrugged, rubbing the back of his head like the very thought of the paperwork gave him a headache. “It’s all just annoying. I could go home and start the process there, but…”

“You’d have to be sterilized.” Jayce made that face again, his nose crinkling in distaste.

“For what it’s worth, the courts ruled it as an unconstitutional requirement in May. The government has eighteen months to change the law.” Viktor replied.

Jayce lit up a little. “Oh, well that’s great! You’ll be able to change your name and stuff properly then, right?”

“Eh, maybe. Depending on what they change the requirements to.” Viktor shrugged. “I’ve done my transition here, I would likely still have to undergo some treatments back home for them to legally recognise it. But yes, if I wait until next year I should be able to get the process started.”

“You don’t sound optimistic.” 

“Mmm…I’m not holding my breath, let’s just say that. Trans rights are still in their infancy in Europe.” Viktor said carefully. “When I first came out, tati and Uncle Vander both offered money to help me with the process. They supported me in that. But I declined, mainly because I…I want children, one day. My own children. And no one, particularly not the damn government, gets to take that choice from me.”

Jayce sat with that for a moment, his fingers absentmindedly turning his coffee cup. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I get that.”

Viktor’s gaze flicked up. “You do?”

Jayce exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, I never had to make a decision like that, not exactly. But I thought about it, you know? When I was figuring myself out. Wondered if I should do the whole nine yards—surgeries, hormones, everything. And I did most of it, obviously, but…” He hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if I wanted kids back then. And I still don’t know, but I didn’t want to lose the option, you know?”

Viktor studied him, thoughtful. “Did you freeze your eggs?”

Jayce nodded. “Yeah. My mom convinced me. I was on the fence about it, but she said, ‘Mijo, just give yourself choices. You don’t have to use them, but you’ll be mad if you don’t have the option.’ And she was right.” He let out a breath. “It’s weird to think about. Like, I don’t even know if I want kids, but knowing I could have them makes a difference.”

Viktor hummed. “That is exactly how I feel. Maybe I will have them, maybe I will not. But no one should take that away from me.”

Jayce tapped his fingers on the table. “You know, there’s other options too. Surrogacy, adoption…”

“I know,” Viktor said. “And I would consider them, but…it is not just about having children. It is about having the choice.” He sighed. “And about not being forced into something because someone else has decided what makes a man.”

Jayce gave him a small, understanding smile. “Yeah. I get that too. Well, for what it’s worth, V—you’ll always be Viktor. Doesn’t matter what some outdated government says. Besides, your name suits you better than whatever you had before,”

Viktor smirked. “Good to know you approve.”

Jayce chuckled. “Course, Viktor’s a sexy name.”

“Is it?” Viktor smirked. 

Jayce waggled his eyebrows. “Hell yeah. Strong. Mysterious. Sophisticated.” He leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a teasing murmur. 

Viktor hummed, a sharp tooth catching his bottom lip as he smirked. “It means conqueror too, you know.”

“Oh now that’s real sexy. Gonna conquer me, handsome?”

“Maybe, if you’re good.” Viktor rolled his eyes at Jayce’s flirting, but the amused huff of laughter betrayed him.

Jayce ached. It took all his strength not to lean over the table and beg Viktor to touch him. I could be good, he thought. I could be so good for you Viktor.

“And yet—somehow, you chose the name Jayce, of all things.” Viktor's teasing voice brought him back to reality, and he stamped his arousal down to pay attention.

“Hey, what’s wrong with Jayce?” Jayce pouted. “I got it from Jason, leader of the Argonauts. You know, guy with the Golden Fleece.” at Viktor’s amused expression, he pouted further. “I liked Greek myth as a kid, okay?”

Viktor shook his head, sipping his coffee. “Mm, if only your talents were put to better use.”

Jayce pretended to look wounded, clutching his chest. “Ouch. And here I thought you appreciated my awkward charm.”

“Oh, I do,” Viktor said smoothly, setting his cup down. “It is entertaining, at least.”

Jayce smirked, tilting his head. “You know, for all your complaining, I think you secretly like it when I flirt with you.”

Viktor arched a brow. “I do not think that is much of a secret, Jayce.”

Jayce’s cheeks burned, but he was pleasantly surprised to see Viktor’s own cheeks were intensely pink as well. At least he wasn’t the only one affected. 

“Okay, enough doom and gloom. We’ve already had our fill of that for the day.” he said. 

“Agreed.” 

“So, back to my original question—were you a nerdy, broody teenager, or did you have a rebellious streak?”

Viktor’s lips curled into a smirk. “Oh, I was the worst kind of rebel. I read banned philosophy books and argued with my teachers. A true menace to society.”

Jayce laughed. “God, you really haven’t changed.”

They chatted on for another hour, Viktor buying Jayce several pastries as he promised (and stealing half of them, as he promised), and laughing over stories from their childhoods.

As Viktor excused himself to the bathroom, Jayce leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs beneath the table. The café buzzed around him—soft chatter, the clinking of porcelain, the rich aroma of fresh coffee and warm pastries thick in the air. He exhaled, savoring the moment of quiet.

Then a shadow fell across the table.

“Jayce.”

The voice sent a spike of tension through his spine. He knew it before he even looked up.

Isaac.

Jayce was instantly reminded why he hadn't been back here in a while. He’d almost forgotten Isaac frequented the same cafe, in his excitement to take Viktor here, it had completely slipped his mind. The last thing one wanted to do was run into a dickhead ex-boyfriend while on a —date? Were he and Viktor on a date? Not really, they were just hanging out. They were friends. Sure, they were flirting, but that didn’t constitute a date — whatever it was, this was his time with Viktor. He didn’t want that ruined by some jerk from his past he’d rather forget.

Jayce’s stomach twisted as the man slid smoothly into the seat across from him, arms resting on the table like he belonged there. His golden-brown hair was styled with the same effortless perfection Jayce remembered, his sharp hazel eyes scanning him with an easy, knowing smile.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Isaac said, his voice all silk and familiarity. “Haven’t seen you in ages.”

Wonder why that is, Jayce thought bitterly. 

He swallowed down the instant urge to leave. “Isaac,” he greeted flatly, gripping his cup a little too tightly. “What do you want?”

Isaac let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “No ‘how have you been’? No ‘nice to see you’?” He tilted his head. “Still holding a grudge, huh?”

Jayce’s jaw clenched. If looks could kill, Isaac would be dead and buried.

“Oh come, don’t be like that.” Isaac sighed dramatically. “Look, I know things ended...messy.”

Messy. That was one way to describe finding out your boyfriend had been fucking around behind your back for months. “ I just needed something more Jayce, things you couldn’t give me. That’s all, he didn’t mean nothing. Neither did Levi. Or Nick.” Yeah, right.

“Listen, I’ve been thinking. I saw Ximena recently,” Isaac continued, leaning in slightly. 

“Get my mother’s name out of your fucking mouth.” Jayce bit back. 

“She asked me how I’d been, said she misses having me around the house dinner. You know, like we used to do.” Isaac went on like Jayce hadn’t even spoken. “She always liked me, you know that.”

“That’s because she doesn’t know what you did.” Jayce’s lip curled.

“Oh come on , it was one mistake.” 

“One mistake? With five different guys, over the course of a year?” Jayce raised an eyebrow. “Think you need to go back to school Isaac, your math is off.”

“We had something good, Jayce. I told you they meant nothing to me, I meant that. It helped me see how much you meant to me, how much I needed you.”

Jayce snorted. “As I recall, you said I wasn’t a real man, and certainly not man enough to keep you satisfied.” 

“I was angry, I admit.” Isaac said. “But I didn’t mean it. Maybe we could try again. Just dinner? Catch up. See where things go.”

Jayce’s pulse spiked. No. No way. Panic sparked in his chest, and before he could think, the words tumbled out. 

“I’m taken.”

Isaac arched a brow, unimpressed. “Really?”

“Yes,” Jayce said too fast, too forcefully. He scrambled for a name, an excuse—anything to put distance between him and this conversation. “He’s actually—”

“Right here.”

A familiar voice, low and edged with steel, cut through the air like a blade. Jayce turned his head, almost startled. Once again, just like at the club, Viktor had come to his rescue.

Viktor stood beside him, head tilted ever so slightly, his cane resting lightly against his leg. His amber eyes were sharp, measuring, assessing. Deadly . It mirrored the furious expression he’d worn at the creator party, darkened pupils promising grievous bodily harm to anyone who so much as touched Jayce. Heat shot down to Jayce’s core like lightning, pooling in his belly. He almost groaned out loud. 

He set a hand on Jayce’s shoulder, fingers warm even through the fabric of his jacket. His grip was tight, as it had been that night.

Protective. Possessive.

Mine , it said, back off.  

Jayce's body was on fire.

“You’re Jayce’s new boyfriend?” Isaac asked, skeptical, gaze flicking over Viktor.

Viktor tilted his head, his gaze bordering on predatory. “Problem with that?” he said smoothly. “You are bothering him. Leave.”

The words sent a thrill down Jayce’s spine.

Isaac exhaled a short, disbelieving laugh. “Wow, okay.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. Isaac shrugged. “Just surprised, is all. I didn’t think Jayce was into…well…”

A flush of protective, righteous anger flashed through Jayce. Whatever Isaac was insinuating, he didn’t have time to voice it before Jayce was growling. “Finish that fucking sentence Isaac, I dare you. Leave, now.”

Isaac stared at him for a moment, lips parting like he wanted to argue. 

“My boyfriend has asked you to leave. I suggest you do before someone gets hurt.” Viktor said. 

There was something in Viktor’s gaze—something unwavering, something entirely unshaken—that made Isaac hesitate.

With a scoff, Isaac stood, adjusting his coat. “Fine. Whatever.” He shot Jayce a final look. “You know where to find me if you change your mind.”

“He won’t.” Viktor snapped, taking an aggravated step towards him. Jayce caught his elbow, shaking his head.

Viktor breathed through his nose, his glare full of pure disgust as Isaac tripped over himself out the door. He sighed, letting his eyes close as he breathed through his anger.

Jayce barely breathed until the café door swung shut behind Isaac, his hand still tight in Viktor’s sleeve.

“God.” He dragged a hand down his face. “That was…”

“Unpleasant?” Viktor supplied, slipping back into his seat. “Are you okay Jayce?”

“Yeah. That.” Jayce exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “M’fine. Just…ugh. That’s really ruined my mood.”

Viktor reached out, his hand finding his. His thumb began rubbing soothingly against his wrist. “Ex?” he guessed.

“Mmhm.” Jayce looked out the door where Isaac had disappeared. “We used to come here a lot. Met in senior year. Me being trans was this huge novelty for him, but eventually he got bored, went off to find a ‘real’ man. Said he had needs I couldn’t fulfil.”

Viktor’s nostrils flared, and his gaze snapped to the door, as if contemplating taking after the dickhead. Jayce’s stomach flipped at the rage on Viktor’s face. He pressed his legs together, trying not to fucking whimper right here in the damn café.

God, he’d definitely be thinking about that expression later tonight. 

“It’s alright, m’over it now.” he mumbled. “Just forgot he still came here.” 

“I see him again, I’ll trip the fucker over.” Viktor muttered. “Into oncoming traffic, with any luck.”

“Vik.” Jayce let out a startled laugh, the sound bubbling out before he could stop it. He turned to Viktor, who met his gaze with a cool, assessing look—like he was still calculating something dangerous.

“Don’t go committing vehicular manslaughter for me,” Jayce teased, squeezing Viktor’s fingers where they still loosely held onto his own.

Viktor shrugged, entirely unbothered. “It wouldn’t be, technically.” He tilted his head, voice smooth, almost playful. “If anyone could even pin it on me.”

Jayce snorted, shaking his head, but his fingers turned in Viktor’s grip, threading together properly, firmly. “No accidents, V. Can’t risk you getting locked up. Or deported.” His voice softened, teasing edge melting away. “I need you right here.”

Viktor exhaled, some of the lingering tension in his body unraveling at Jayce’s touch. His thumb brushed over Jayce’s knuckles absentmindedly. “Sorry,” he murmured, lips quirking. “I’m the son of a revolutionary. Hot blood runs in the family.”

Jayce’s own breath hitched—just slightly, just enough. Then, before he could think, he blurted, “It’s alright. It’s kind of hot.”

Viktor’s smirk was immediate, slow and knowing. “Only kind of?”

Jayce groaned, dropping his head back slightly, heat crawling up his neck. “I’m afraid if I say it’s very hot, you’ll be tempted to threaten everyone I come into contact with.”

Viktor hummed thoughtfully, leaning his chin into his palm, eyes bright with amusement. “Oh, I wouldn’t threaten everyone.” His smirk widened. “Only the handsome men that think they have a right to talk to you.”

Jayce huffed, shaking his head, but he was smiling. “Oh? Because only you have that privilege, right?”

“Mm. Exactly.” Viktor tilted his head. “Just me.”

Jayce squeezed his hand again, warmth thrumming in his chest.

“Thanks for that, by the way,” he said, quieter this time. “That quick save. And, uh—sorry for throwing you into it out of nowhere.”

Viktor waved a hand, utterly dismissive, the barest curl of a smile on his lips. “Please.” He exhaled through his nose, eyes flicking to Jayce’s still-flushed face. “I was only fulfilling my duty as a boyfriend.”

Jayce let out another startled laugh, cheeks heating all over again.

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Never. I’m your boyfriend now apparently, it’s my job to torment you.”

Jayce groaned. “God, you’re the worst.”

Viktor hummed, the sly look on his face only growing. “You say that, and yet, I remain irresistible.”

Jayce shook his head, grinning despite himself. “Yeah, keep telling yourself that V. Come on then, boyfriend , we’d better make a move. I’ve got a few video ideas I wanted to run by you…”

Chapter Text

Jayce took a long, suffering sigh, and leaned back in his chair. He went over his editing once more, fine-tuning some of the on-screen animations and funny sound affects, before winding the video back to the beginning to look over the final product. 

[VIDEO STARTS]

🎮 [INTRO SCREEN: “JAYCE & VIKTOR PLAY OVERWATCH (IT GOES BADLY)”]

🗣️ Jayce: “Alright, guys, today we’re playing Overwatch, and I have a special guest—Viktor, who has never touched this game before in his life.”

🗣️ Viktor: “That is true, yes. But I do have excellent hand-eye coordination.”

🗣️ Jayce: “I’m sure you do, bud.” [chuckles] “I’m maining Reinhardt. Big hammer. Big shield. That’s my whole strategy.”

🗣️ Viktor: “I see. I will choose… what is his name?” [scrolling through heroes] “Zenyatta. He has the floating balls.”

💬 [Chat] :

• @hextech4life: oh no viktor picked a support first game is this gonna be tragic or legendary
  
  
• @glovemachine: zenyatta?? he’s either gonna be useless or terrifying no in-between
  
  

🎮 [GAMEPLAY STARTS]

🗣️ Jayce: “Okay, just stick with me, and I’ll—VIKTOR WHERE DID YOU GO?”

🗣️ Viktor: “I am flanking.”

🗣️ Jayce: “YOU’RE WHAT??”

Kill feed pops up: Viktor (Zenyatta) eliminates THREE players in quick succession.

🗣️ Jayce: “VIKTOR??”

🗣️ Viktor: “Huh. They seem quite fragile.”

💬 [Chat] :

• @orbitalchaos: zenYATTA SWEEP???
  
  
• @jaycemeathead: viktor is a menace confirmed
  
  

🎮 [LATER IN THE MATCH]

🗣️ Jayce: “Alright, I’ve got my ult! We’re pushing—”

Viktor (Zenyatta) ACTIVATES TRANSCENDENCE

🗣️ Jayce: “WAIT, VIKTOR NO—”

The enemy team’s ults get completely negated by Viktor’s perfectly timed ability. Jayce, standing uselessly with his unused Earthshatter, watches in real time as Viktor wipes the enemy team himself.

🗣️ Jayce: “...Are you actually serious right now?”

🗣️ Viktor: “I am supporting, Jayce.”

💬 [Chat] :

• @orbmeta: viktor is not ‘supporting,’ viktor is doing WAR CRIMES
  
  
• @geargrind: jayce is the sidekick in his own video 💀💀💀
  
  

🎮 [LAST ROUND – MATCH POINT]

🗣️ Jayce: “Alright, Viktor, listen. Just stay behind me. I’ll block the damage, you heal me.”

🗣️ Viktor: “Of course, Jayce.”

Jayce charges forward as Reinhardt, ready to make a heroic final push. Viktor immediately disappears into the backline.

🗣️ Jayce: “Viktor. VIKTOR, WHERE ARE YOU.”

🗣️ Viktor: “Do not worry, Jayce. I have a plan.”

KILL FEED: Viktor eliminates FOUR PLAYERS in the span of three seconds.

🗣️ Jayce: [in stunned silence] “I—I’m sorry. Who’s channel is this again?”

🗣️ Viktor: [smugly] “I believe it is ours now.”

💬 [Chat] :

• @literallynobody: VIKTOR CARRYING SO HARD HE OWNS THE CHANNEL NOW
  
  
• @hammermain: jayce rethinking his entire life rn 💀
  
  
• @nerdcore: someone check viktor’s PC is he actually a pro player in disguise
  
  

🎮 [END SCREEN]

🗣️ Jayce: [sighs dramatically] “Alright, well, this was supposed to be me showing Viktor the ropes, but apparently he’s the Overwatch prodigy we never knew existed.”

🗣️ Viktor: [grinning] “I learn fast.”

🗣️ Jayce: “I—I just. I don’t even know anymore. Thanks for watching, guys. I need to lie down.”

[VIDEO ENDS]

The highlight reel from their stream seemed perfect. It was funny, had a lot of action, and even better, it had some great moments from their enthusiastic chat. Jayce just needed to record his voiceover intro and then upload it.

Viktor, however, was still at his kitchen table, laser-focused on his laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard. The rhythmic tap tap tap filled the otherwise quiet apartment, save for the occasional clink of Viktor’s spoon against his now long-cold cup of tea.

Jayce turned in his chair, stretching his arms above his head with an exaggerated groan. “Soooo,” he drawled, dragging out the word just to be obnoxious. “Are you planning on leaving my house anytime soon, or…?”

Viktor didn’t even look up. “Do you want me to leave, Jayce?”

Jayce blinked. Opened his mouth. Closed it again. Because no, actually, he didn’t want Viktor to leave. That was the whole point of the teasing. But he also wasn’t about to admit that.

“Well,” he tried, tipping his chair back onto two legs. “It’s getting pretty late. I figured you’d, y’know, go home at some point.”

Viktor made a vaguely unimpressed noise in the back of his throat, still typing. “And yet, I notice you are not actually asking me to leave.”

Jayce wobbled, nearly lost his balance, and thumped his chair back onto all fours. “I mean, I could ask. If I wanted to.”

“Mm.” Viktor finally looked up, eyes sharp with amusement as he studied Jayce over the rim of his glasses. God he looked hot in glasses. He wanted Viktor to never wear his contacts ever again. “You are a terrible liar.”

Jayce scowled. “I am not. ”

Viktor hummed, unconvinced, before turning his attention back to his screen. “Then by all means, tell me to leave.”

Jayce squirmed in his seat. “Well, now I don’t want to.”

“Mm.” Viktor’s mouth twitched in a smirk. “How convenient.”

Jayce huffed. He knew Viktor was doing this on purpose, that insufferably cool and in-control tone that made Jayce feel like he was just a little too easy to rile up. “Ugh, whatever,” he muttered, grabbing a pillow from the couch and dramatically shoving it over his face. “Just move in already, then. ”

Viktor snorted. “Maybe I should.”

That should have been a joke. But Jayce pulled the pillow away just enough to peek at Viktor again—at his laptop, at his half-empty mug, at the fact that he hadn’t even put his shoes back on. The casual ease of someone who had settled into a space without realizing it.

Jayce’s stomach did something weird.

“...You could, y’know,” he said before he could think better of it. “Stay over. If you wanted.”

Viktor’s fingers stilled over his keyboard. His gaze flicked up again, studying Jayce with that unreadable expression he sometimes got when he was thinking too much. Jayce swallowed, suddenly nervous.

Then Viktor clicked his laptop shut, leaned back in his chair, and stretched. “Well,” he mused, voice smooth and lazy. “Since you asked so nicely.”

Jayce’s brain short-circuited.

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Jayce flopped onto his bed with a groan, rolling onto his back as he stared at the ceiling. The sound of the shower running down the hall filled the quiet apartment, soft and steady, and his thoughts were pinpointed on the person in there.

Viktor.

Viktor, who had made himself at home in Jayce’s space like it was his space. Viktor, who had just spent the last ten minutes peeling off his sweatshirt, stretching in that lazy, sexy way of his before muttering something about needing a shower before bed.

Viktor, who was currently naked under his roof.

Jayce let out a slow, uneven breath, pressing the heels of his hands over his eyes. Get it together, Talis. He had no reason to be this worked up. He had offered his home to Viktor, it wasn’t a problem for him to use his shower, borrow his clothes, share his bed. They were friends. They were just friends .

Except.

His brain wasn’t just caught up on the fact that Viktor was in his shower , bare skin wet, steam curling over his sharp collarbones, water sliding down his stomach—

Jayce physically shook his head , trying to dislodge the image before it burned itself into his skull. It didn’t help. Nothing helped. Because it wasn’t just the shower.

It was earlier. The café. Even earlier. The party.

The way Viktor had strode back to the table and taken one look at Isaac before stepping right into his space. The sharp edge in his voice when he told him to back off. The protective, possessive way he’d leaned against Jayce like he was something to claim.

Jayce had been too flustered in the moment to really think about it, but fuck. Viktor had been furious . Cold, cutting, all razor-sharp focus and unapologetic anger. And it had been—

Jayce groaned, dragging a hand down his face.

It had been so hot.

He shouldn’t be thinking about it like this. Shouldn’t be thinking about how Viktor had looked when he said, "Only the handsome men that think they have a right to talk to you." Shouldn’t be thinking about his voice, all dark and low and certain, like there wasn’t a single doubt in his mind that Jayce was his.

And yet.

Jayce’s body betrayed him before his brain could stop it, heat pooling low in his stomach, an ache settling between his thighs. He clenched his jaw, squeezed his eyes shut. Don’t be a creep. Viktor’s literally right down the hall.

The shower was still running.

He could hear it, steady and constant. Could picture it. Could imagine the water trailing down Viktor’s lean frame, running through his hair, over his throat, dripping from his fingertips—

Jayce inhaled sharply through his nose.

Okay, fuck it.

His hand slid beneath the waistband of his sweats, and he barely held back a shudder at the contact. He was already wet, his own goddamn thoughts doing him in, and he had just enough self-control left to bite his lip before any embarrassing sounds could slip free.

It was just— fuck, the way Viktor had been earlier. The way he hadn’t hesitated. The way he had stepped in without question, his whole body radiating something protective and dangerous and effortlessly in control—

Stop it. Stop it. 

He pulled his hand out of his boxers, wanting to scream. He couldn’t fucking do this with Viktor right down the hall. Not when he was literally about to share a fucking bed with the man. 

It was bad enough he’d done it the first time in Anaheim. Even worse that he had done it several times since then. Viktor hadn’t been in proximity then, he had plenty of time to get his shit together before he had to look at his friend in the face again. 

But Viktor’s sharp eyes flashed into his mind again. The tightness of his hand on his shoulder, the way he’d practically snarled at Isaac, the edge in his voice as he’d barked at the guy in the club. 

Jayce was throbbing with need. He couldn’t concentrate on anything else. He tried rubbing his thighs together, just to take the edge off, but the fabric of his boxers brushing against his clit made him groan. 

He bit his lip, stifling the sound. He didn’t think Viktor would hear much under the shower spray, but it would be the most mortfiying thing on the planet if he caught him like this. God he’d never be able to look at him ever again. 

His hand snuck down again. 

Don’t. He told himself. Don’t.

But his body ignored him, fingers curling beneath the waistband of his boxers again, desperate, needy. His breath was coming too fast, heat prickling beneath his skin, the ache between his thighs making it impossible to think straight.

He could still hear the shower. Still picture Viktor standing under the spray, head tipped back, golden skin flushed warm from the heat. Could imagine the way droplets would be clinging to his lashes, how he’d scrub a hand through his hair, how the water would be slipping down the sharp cut of his hips—

Jayce squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the sheets like it would somehow ground him. It didn’t. It just made him hyperaware of the fact that the bed smelled like Viktor, like the faint trace of his cologne and whatever weird herbal tea he’d been drinking earlier.

Fuck. Fuck.

His fingers brushed over his clit, and the bolt of pleasure nearly made him gasp out loud. He caught himself at the last second, biting down on the inside of his cheek so hard he nearly drew blood.

This was stupid. This was so, so fucking stupid.

He needed to stop. Now.

But his hips twitched up into his own touch, and he was so worked up from the entire damn day—Viktor in his space, Viktor protecting him, Viktor being all sharp-eyed and possessive and utterly infuriating in a way that Jayce couldn’t even pretend wasn’t attractive—

His body was thrumming, wound tight with need, the ache between his thighs unbearable. He dragged his fingers over himself again, slower this time, pressing just right, and his hips bucked up into his touch before he could stop them.

Fuck, he was so wet.

The realization made his breath stutter, his thighs trembling as he circled his clit, teasing himself like he had all the time in the world—except he didn’t. Viktor was right down the hall, in his shower, steam curling against the tiles, warm water dripping down his body—

Jayce pressed the heel of his palm against his mouth, muffling the pathetic little sound that escaped him. He couldn’t—he shouldn’t —

—but the memory of Viktor’s voice, low and dangerous, growling at Isaac to back off, sent another pulse of heat straight through him.

His fingers faltered for half a second before pressing in harder, hips jerking against his own touch. He imagined Viktor’s hand on his thigh in the car, firm and unyielding, the way he had stroked softly over his wrist to comfort him. The way his sharp eyes had burned with anger on Jayce’s behalf, legitimately contemplating how to get away with murder for his sake. Fuck, it was so hot.

Jayce bit down on his bottom lip, hard, but it didn’t do a damn thing to keep the heat from surging through him. His body was begging for it now, for just a little more, just enough to take the edge off. His free hand jumped down to fist in the sheets, biting his tongue, trying to keep himself anchored, but—

Shit, he was close.

A choked noise nearly slipped past his lips, and he barely managed to catch it. He shoved his face into the pillow instead, rubbing tight, desperate circles over his clit, just a few more seconds and he’d—

The water shut off.

Jayce froze.

Every muscle in his body locked up, his breath caught in his throat. The only thing moving was his racing heart, hammering against his ribs as he realized, all at once, what the hell he had just been doing.

He yanked his hand away like he’d been burned, shoving it under the pillow like that would somehow erase the evidence of what had just happened.

The bathroom door creaked open.

Jayce scrambled onto his side, yanking the blankets over himself, trying to look as normal as possible, which was almost impossible when he was still throbbing with unsatisfied need.

He squeezed his eyes shut. Maybe Viktor would think he’d already fallen asleep. Maybe—

Footsteps padded down the hall. Closer.

Jayce swallowed hard, face burning.

Then Viktor’s voice, amused and way too clos:  “You are a terrible actor, Jayce. I know you’re awake.”

Jayce nearly died on the spot.

Viktor poked his head, and Jayce did actually whimper. The finger withdrew. 

“Jayce, everything okay?” God, Viktor sounded so concerned. “Is your knee bothering you? It’s cold tonight.” 

He was being so sweet, and Jayce had just been fucking masturbating to him not five fucking seconds ago. Guilt tore at his insides, shame settling in like a cloud.

Jayce shook his head against the pillows, not trusting himself to speak. Not even wanting to move, in case Viktor somehow saw the wetness that had pooled between his legs through the fabric of his sweats. 

The bed dipped under Viktor’s weight as he settled onto the edge, his back brushing up against Jayce’s backside. And he felt gentle, soothing fingers run through his hair. All the breath left his body. 

For a long time, neither of them spoke. Viktor didn’t question his strange behaviour, thank Jesus and all his damn Apostles, and Jayce offered up no explanation. But that seemed find for Viktor. He just kept stroking his hair, watching the tension ease out of his stiff shoulders. 

Slowly, the heated arousal in him cooled, and the ever-present ache subsided. He would have to get up eventually to change out of his now cold and unpleasantly wet boxers, but he could do that under the guise of a bathroom trip in the night. 

For now, he just melted into the mattress. Viktor’s fingers retreated from his hair, and he whined petulantly. Viktor huffed softly in amusement, and started his massaging at the back of Jayce’s neck. Jayce groaned softly, the strong pads of Viktor’s fingers working kinks out of muscles he didn’t know were so sore until now. 

“You’ve been hunched over your computer all day.” Viktor hummed. “Now look how tense you are. A content creator needs to get massages often if they want to keep their spines functional.” 

“Your posture’s worse than mine,” Jayce mumbled. “N’ you’ve been hunched over all day too.” 

“Yes, but I have a Jenga tower for a spine.” Viktor replied. “One piece shifted in the wrong way, the whole structure comes crashing down.” 

Jayce huffed out a laugh, finally cracking his eyes open to look at Viktor. He was still damp from the shower, his curls clinging to his forehead, a loose t-shirt hanging off his frame. He looked so soft, so comfortable in Jayce’s space, like he belonged there. It made Jayce’s chest ache.

“That’s a terrible metaphor,” Jayce muttered.

Viktor hummed, undeterred, fingers pressing a little more firmly at the base of Jayce’s skull. “I think it is quite apt, actually. My spine is a masterpiece of structural instability. I'm just a pretzel in a trench coat, pretending to be human.”

Jayce snorted, but his eyelids fluttered at the pressure of Viktor’s touch. “You’re so fucking weird.”

“And you are very pliant when you are sleepy.” Viktor chuckled, kneading at the knots in Jayce’s shoulders. “Perhaps I should always get you in a near-unconscious state before attempting to talk sense into you.”

Jayce would have argued, but it was so hard to form a coherent thought when Viktor’s fingers were working magic on him. His body was still a mess of unresolved tension, but at least now it was shifting into something more tolerable, something less desperate.

“Go have a shower, the hot water will make your neck feel better.” Viktor said softly. 

Jayce made a noise somewhere between a groan and a whine, burying his face deeper into the pillow. The last thing he needed right now was to be naked and alone with his thoughts again. He wasn’t sure he’d survive another round of temptation.

“Mmm, don’t wanna,” he muttered, voice muffled.

Viktor huffed, amused. “You stink.”

Jayce turned his head just enough to glare at him. “I do not .”

“You do,” Viktor said matter-of-factly, lips twitching. 

Jayce let out a strangled sound, kicking weakly at Viktor’s thigh. “You are the worst.”

Viktor barely budged. “Come, I will even let you use my nice shampoo when you come to my place, the one you said made me smell like a cake.”

That shampoo was really nice, it did make Viktor smell like a cake. Vanilla and something sugary, he smelled like a bakery when he used it. A special one, from Prague, he’d said. The offer to smell like Viktor was tempting.

Jayce groaned again, flopping onto his back dramatically. “You’re so bossy, you know that?”

“No, you’re just a brat.”

Jayce scowled, but Viktor just looked at him, unimpressed, and somehow that was worse than if he’d said anything at all. Why was everything he did so fucking hot? Damn him.

If I’m a brat, are you the brat tamer? He thought to himself. That image sent an unbidden thrill through him.

“Jayce.” Viktor said, low and steady, fixing with him with a Look that nearly made him combust. A warning. An order. Like the order he’d given him to accompany him to the party. "Go shower."

Not harsh, just stern. Uncompromising. An expectation, not just an instruction. 

Behave. Be good. He could image the words in Viktor’s voice so clearly. He had to stop himself from pressing his legs together again, the action would be too obvious with Viktor so close.

Guess that answers my question, he thought.

Grumbling under his breath, Jayce pushed himself up. “Fine, fine. I’m going.”

Viktor hummed approvingly. “Good. And do not take too long—I have claimed the right side of the bed, and if you attempt to argue, I will bite you.”

Jayce’s brain short-circuited. He turned to stare at Viktor, who just arched a brow, entirely unbothered.

“Did you just threaten to bite me?” Jayce asked, voice cracking slightly.

“Well, not unless you’d enjoy it too much.” Viktor smirked. “Go shower, Jayce.”

Jayce had a lot to think about in the shower. 

Jayce’s shirt was too big on Viktor. It hung over one pale shoulder as he leaned over, fiddling with the lamp switch on the bedside table. Jayce desperately wanted to press his lips to the exposed skin, make a pathway from one mole to the next with his tongue. 

“Do you have a boyfriend?” he blurted out, desperate to get his thoughts to shut up . 

“What?” Viktor looked back at him, one eyebrow raised. 

“Or girlfriend?” Jayce continued, shifting under the covers to lay on his side. He was leaning on his bad leg now, but he wanted to see Viktor. 

“Girls aren’t really my area, so no.” 

The lamplight gave him a golden halo as he too settled down into bed, laying on his side to face Jayce, his own bad leg propped up between them on a pillow. 

“But do you think I’d be in this bed with you if I had a boyfriend?” Viktor chuckled. 

Jayce shrugged. “Well I dunno, I dunno your relationship boundaries. For all I know you got a really chill partner.”

Viktor shook his head. “You’re adoorable.” he mumbled.

“So no boyfriend?”

“No boyfriend.” Viktor confirmed. “I’m very single. Haven’t had a boyfriend since before I transitioned actually.”

Jayce frowned. “That’s like, what, eight years?”

Viktor nodded.

“Long time.”

He shrugged. “I suppose.”

“You don’t feel…lonely? Or…” Jayce wet his lips, not entirely sure what he was trying to ask exactly.

Viktor hummed, a languid smile curving up his face. “Are you asking if I’m pent up, Jayce?”

Jayce’s face burned. “Well, I mean — I wasn’t exactly…but yeah, kinda. Now you mention it. I just know that I — well, I mean, I know that testosterone changes things. And the days after one of my t shots I’m like… super frustrated. So.”

Viktor’s gaze on him didn’t waver the whole time he stammered through his explanation. He just lay there, smirking, staring unblinking like a cat. 

“I get by.” he said elusively. “I have a hand, among other things, after all. I don’t need a man for that.” 

“Right. Right.” someone fucking kill him right now. How did they start talking about Viktor’s horniness? “Of course you don’t need a man.” 

“Are you asking if I want one though?” Viktor hummed, propping up his head onto his hand.

Jayce swallowed thickly. Well, now or never.   “I guess, yeah?”

Viktor looked up at the ceiling, pursing his lips in thought. “I…didn’t think I did.” he murmured. 

Jayce’s heart stuttered.

“Last boyfriend I had was too pushy.” Viktor wrinkled his nose. 

“Pushy?”

“Yeah, he wanted sex and I didn’t. He didn’t want to take no for an answer, so I showed him the door. So my first boyfriend was my last. Been on my own ever since.”

“Oh, Vik. I’m sorry, guys like that suck.”

“Mm. Relationships in general are just…difficult for me.” Viktor admitted, a shadow falling over his face. “I don’t…I’m not a very good person to be with, I think.”

“What, how?” Jayce frowned. “You’re literally perfect, V.”

Viktor laughed, the sound bitter. Jayce didn’t like it. 

“You shouldn’t put me on a pedestal Jayce, it’s not conducive.” he sighed, rolling not his back. “I don’t know, I’m not very good with people I guess. I’ve been told my whole life that I’m too blunt, too aggressive, too opinionated. Off-putting, standoffish.”

“That hasn’t been my experience with you.”

Viktor glanced over at him. “No?”

“No.” Jayce lifted himself up onto his arm. “You wanna know what I think?”

Viktor inclined his head, looking up with curious eyes. 

“Since we first started talking, you’ve been nothing but caring and sweet and so accommodating. I feel like we’ve known each other our whole lives. I feel safe around you V, comfortable. Like you’re family, closer than family. Yeah you’re a little blunt sometimes, but I don’t mind that. You’re honest, and you say what’s on your mind. I respect that. I think you’re funny, you’re charming, you’re calming and patient. You’re just a good person, Vik.”

Viktor blinked. His eyes were glassy, and Jayce almost reached out when Viktor sniffled softly. Viktor brushed the back of his hand against his eyes, scrubbing away the tears. 

“S’probably because I’ve been trying so hard.” Viktor mumbled, his voice thick with tears. 

Jayce’s heart ached. “What do you mean?”

“Whne you first messaged me, I was so happy.” Viktor confessed. “I’d wanted to talk to you for so long, but I’ve never been good at making friends and I was scared of fucking it up. And then when you messaged me I just panicked. I asked my sister to check my message like twenty times before I sent it. I wanted so badly to be your friend, I didn’t want to do or say anything bad and make you leave me like everyone else has.” 

“Oh, V…come here, come here.” Jayce shuffled over, tugging Viktor gently into his arms. 

Viktor curled up against his chest, and Jayce wound himself around his smaller body. He slotted his leg in between Viktor’s, cushioning his bad leg against his thigh. He cradled Viktor’s head against him, tucking his chin onto the crown of Viktor’s head. 

Viktor hiccuped, and Jayce tightened his grip. 

“I wanted you to like me, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time.” Viktor whispered, his voice small and fragile. “None of my friends from school talk to me anymore, I wasn’t able to make any friends in America before the pandemic hit, and I’ve been alone for so long…I needed you to like me. And it’s making me so tired, I’m so tired trying to be perfect—setting alarms to remind me to text you so I don’t forget, writing down everything you say you like so I remember, trying not to talk too much or too little, letting you hug me all the time because I know you like touching—” he broke off, hiccuping again into Jayce’s shirt. 

Jacye frowned softly, his fingers stroking up and down Viktor’s spine. 

“Vik, you got autism?” he asked gently.

There was a pause. Viktor nodded mutely.  

Jayce exhaled softly, resting his chin more firmly against Viktor’s head. “Oh, Vik,” he murmured, pulling him in closer.

Viktor’s fingers curled into his shirt, like he was bracing for something—rejection, maybe, or judgment. Jayce felt his chest tighten.

“You don’t have to try so hard with me,” Jayce continued, rubbing slow circles into Viktor’s back. “I already like you. Like, a lot . And not because you remember my favourite stuff or because you let me hug you—I mean, I love hugging you, but it’s not like, a dealbreaker or anything.” He huffed a soft laugh. “I like you because you’re you . You’re smart, and funny, and you always make me think about things in ways I never would’ve on my own.”

Viktor sniffled against his chest. “You are just saying that.”

“I’m really not,” Jayce said firmly. He pulled back just enough to look Viktor in the eye, brushing his knuckles lightly against his cheek. “I mean it, Vik. You don’t have to be perfect for me. I don’t want perfect. I want you.”

Viktor’s lower lip wobbled, his eyes glassy and wide. “Even if I forget to text you back sometimes?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if I get hyperfixated on something and don’t notice when you’re talking to me?”

Jayce smirked. “That already happens, V.”

Viktor let out a wet little laugh. “Even if I… if I don’t always want to be touched?”

Jayce’s expression softened. “Vik, you don’t ever have to let me touch you if you don’t want it. I’ll still be here.”

Viktor sucked in a shaky breath, his fingers tightening in Jayce’s shirt. “You promise?”

Jayce reached up, brushing a stray curl away from Viktor’s forehead. “Promise.”

Viktor let out a breath, shaky and relieved all at once. Then, hesitantly, he burrowed closer, pressing his face into the crook of Jayce’s neck. Jayce held him there, warm and steady, his hands trailing soothingly down Viktor’s back.

“I don’t want you burning yourself out to impress me. You don’t gotta mask with me V,” Jayce murmured. “I might not understand everything, but I get what it’s like having a different brain. I get it. That’s probably why we get along so well anyway.”

Viktor laughed wetly against his neck, his hand curling into his shirt. “Yeah, I think you’re right. You’re not like everyone else, you don’t judge.”

“I would never judge you.” he promised. “And anyone that does can fuck off.”

Viktor chuckled. 

“Come on, let’s get you some water.” 

Viktor nodded against Jayce’s neck, his breath steadying as the warmth of Jayce’s words sunk in. It was comforting, knowing Jayce wasn’t just tolerating him, but actually understood and accepted him in a way Viktor hadn’t really experienced before. For the first time in a while, he felt like he could breathe—like he could just be Viktor without the constant pressure of pretending to be someone else.

Jayce gently pulled away, reaching over to grab a bottle of water from the bedside table, the soft rustle of the sheets punctuating the quiet room. As he handed it to Viktor, their fingers brushed, and Viktor held his gaze for a moment. There was something about the tenderness in Jayce’s eyes that made his chest tighten.

“Thanks,” Viktor said softly, cracking the bottle open and taking a small sip. It wasn’t just about the water—it was everything Jayce was doing for him in that moment. “You asked me before, I got lonely. The answer is I do, but I don’t at the same time.”

Jayce settled back into bed next to him, looking at him curiously.

“I prefer being on my own most of the time, I don’t have to expend energy masking. But the silence gets depressing.” Viktor admitted. “The last few months talking to you have been…the happiest of my life. But I didn’t think I’d be able to talk about all this, you know? It’s hard to admit, especially when I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t need anything from anyone.”

“Hey, I’m always here when you need it Viktor. You know that, right?” 

Viktor smiled. “Yeah, I’m starting to.” 

Jayce smiled back. “Good.” 

Chapter Text

“Hey Viktor!” Jayce grinned, slipping into the passenger seat. It was good to see him. 

After their little sleepover, Viktor had gone sort of AWOL. He’d warned Jayce that could happen, without the constant pressure to be conventionally social, the constant texting had tapered off and then stopped entirely for a whole week. Jayce knew nothing was wrong, as Viktor kept uploading his usual content on youtube, and he had finally caught Viktor’s alt account on his twitch streams, but the silence had taken a little getting used to after constant communication. 

Then, as quickly as it disappeared, Viktor was bombarding him with texts again. Multiple voice notes a day, several selfies while he was working on his latest script. They went back to calling every night, Jayce getting to be blessed with the sight of Viktor in his glasses and his baggy sweatshirt right out of the shower as he huddled in bed. 

The last week or so, Viktor had been a little elusive. And not in the hyperfixated-and-busy kind of way. In the I’m-hiding-something way, so the invitationg to lunch, when it came that morning, had been a surprise, if a pleasant one.

“Hello štěňátko,” Viktor smiled softly, reaching to move his cane out of Jayce’s way, but Jayce immediately waved his hand away, settling himself into the seat. 

Jayce huffed, rolling his eyes fondly. “You and these nicknames,” he teased, buckling his seatbelt. “You’ve been calling me a lot lately. What’s that one mean?”

Viktor smirked, turning the key in the ignition. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Jayce narrowed his eyes playfully. “Vik.”

Viktor had been giving him an awful lot of nicknames in the past few weeks. First it had been zlatíčko, then cukroušek, then onto drahoušek. None quite stuck though, another than štěňátko. Just testing them out , Viktor had said, see what fits .

Viktor hummed, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel as he pulled out of the parking space. “It means… little puppy.”

Jayce groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve been calling me a puppy?”

Viktor chuckled, amused by the exasperation in Jayce’s voice. “It fits, no?”

“No, it does not —”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, giving him a sidelong glance. “Excitable, affectionate, adorable, a little too eager to please…”

Jayce scoffed. “That’s slander.”

Viktor grinned. “Not unless it’s true.”

Jayce crossed his arms, sinking into his seat. “Okay that’s it, I’m getting you back.”

“Are you now?” Viktor asked, amused as he backed out of Jayce’s driveway. 

“Yup. I’m gonna give you a nickname,” Jayce said, pursing his lips. “I’m gonna call you…Chequito.”

“Chequito?” Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Meaning…?”

“You’re Czech, that’s Checo in Spanish. The -ito makes it cute, like saying little.” 

“So, ‘little Czech’?” Viktor looked fond. “If your aim was to embarrass me, you have not succeeded. That is quite adorable, I love it.” 

Jayce blinked, then groaned. “Damn it. I was going for teasing.”

Viktor chuckled, shaking his head. “Try harder next time, štěňátko.”

Jayce huffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “Fine. But I’m still calling you Chequito.”

“I will wear it with pride,” Viktor said, smirking as he turned onto the main road.

Jayce side-eyed Viktor, lips twitching. “Alright, so where are we going for lunch then, Chequito ? You were real mysterious over the phone.”

Viktor hummed, his hands steady on the wheel as he turned onto the freeway. “Well, štěně , today I’m taking you somewhere special.”

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “Downtown? That not gonna be too loud for you?”

Viktor gave him a quick glance, something warm flickering behind his amber eyes. “I’ve got my headphones in my bag. Besides, I can deal with the noise for you.”

Jayce’s heart squeezed. “Vik, you don’t have to deal with anything for me.”

“I know.” Viktor’s voice was softer this time, quieter, but steady. “I want to.”

Jayce studied him, the sharp angles of his face softened by the winter light streaming through the windshield. He had that look—determined, sure of himself in a way that made Jayce’s chest feel too tight. He wanted to argue, but… if Viktor had already made up his mind, there was no changing it.

So instead, he just shook his head, reaching over to rest a hand on Viktor’s thigh and squeezing gently.

“Alright,” he murmured. “But if it gets to be too much, you better tell me.”

Viktor huffed a laugh, tapping Jayce’s fingers twice in a silent promise.

The restaurant Viktor pulled up to was gorgeous—an elegant Mexican place with warm terracotta walls, intricate wrought iron details on the windows, and a golden sign above the entrance that practically glowed in the afternoon sun. It was upscale in a way Jayce wasn’t expecting, the kind of place where reservations were made weeks in advance.

Jayce blinked. “Damn, Vik. You brought me to Olé? Fancy.”

“Only the best for the man of the hour,” Viktor said, parking with a smirk.

Jayce turned to him, frowning. “Man of the hour?”

Viktor just grinned, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Come inside and find out.”

Now really suspicious, Jayce followed him into the restaurant. The host greeted Viktor by name—another surprise—and led them through the warmly lit dining area to a cozy table near the window. But what really made Jayce freeze was when Viktor sat down and immediately brought out a small vlog camera and set it up on the table, red light blinking as he pressed record.

His stomach flipped. Viktor waved at the camera, smiling a little wider than usual. “Ahoj everyone, I know it’s not the video essay you were expecting, but this is another special video for a very special person.”

“Vik…?”

“Your subscribers already know why we’re here, but you should probably know now too.” Viktor gestured for him to sit. “You might want to watch this.”

Still confused, Jayce lowered himself into the chair, eyes flickering to the tablet Viktor pulled out next. The screen glowed with something familiar—his YouTube analytics. And right at the top, his subscriber count.

He sucked in a sharp breath.

He was less than a hundred away from five million.

Jayce’s heart pounded. “Holy shit .”

Viktor smirked, resting his chin on one hand. “I thought it would be nice to watch it happen together.”

Jayce swallowed hard, emotions swelling in his chest. He’d spent years grinding for this—through the long nights editing, through the burnout, through the doubt. And somehow, somehow , Viktor had known exactly how much this moment would mean to him.

He couldn’t even find words.

The numbers on the screen ticked up.

99.

50.

10.

And then—

5,000,000.

For a second, Jayce just stared. The world around him felt distant, muffled. Then Viktor pressed a button on the camera, zooming in on Jayce’s stunned reaction, and—

Viktor burst into a round applause. The smile on his face was warm, wide enough to showcase the sharp canines Jayce loved.

Before Jayce could even process it, a waitress appeared at the table, carrying a beautifully decorated tres leches cake, the words “5Million” written in bold, golden frosting. On top, two candles shaped like a perfect 5 and M flickered brightly.

Jayce let out a choked, disbelieving laugh.

“No fucking way. You organised this? You sneaky little Slav, is this why you’ve been so cagey lately?”

Viktor, looking entirely too smug, sat back as the waitress carefully set the cake down in front of him. The restaurant around them buzzed with warmth and noise, but none of it—not the cake, not the camera pointed at him—hit quite as hard as what Viktor did next.

He cleared his throat.

Looked Jayce straight in the eyes.

And said, in perfect, careful Spanish—

“Felicidades por cinco millones de suscriptores, Jayce.”

Jayce’s brain short-circuited.

His jaw dropped.

“…Did you just—?”

Viktor tilted his head, smirking. “Sí, claro.”

Jayce stared at him. His brain was running too slow, his heart running too fast.

“You—” His voice cracked. “You learned Spanish for this?”

Viktor shrugged, feigning nonchalance, but his ears were definitely red. “I thought it would be fitting.”

Jayce didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate.

He just lunged across the table and crushed Viktor into a hug, laughter bubbling out of him uncontrollably. The camera was still rolling. The waitress chuckled. But Jayce didn’t care—he buried his face into the crook of Viktor’s neck, his chest shaking.

“You’re ridiculous,” Jayce mumbled against his skin. “I can’t believe you conspired with my subscribers without me even knowing.”

Viktor chuckled, the sound vibrating against Jayce’s ribs. His arms tightened around him, his hand curling against Jayce’s back.

“I know, I’m amazing.” 

Jayce didn’t want to let go, but he wanted to check out his cake. So reluctantly, he pulled away, missing the softness in Viktor’s eyes as his hands trailed down his arms and away. 

“You got me tres leches cake? These are my favourite.” 

“I know,” Viktor said, smug, picking up the vlogging camera to focus directly on Jayce and the cake. “Blow out the candles Jayce, the people want a speech.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, glancing between the cake and the camera Viktor had aimed at him. "You really went all out, huh?"

Viktor smirked, tilting his head. "Naturally. Five million is a big deal, is it not?"

Jayce swallowed, warmth curling in his chest. It was a big deal, but the number itself didn’t matter nearly as much as the person sitting across from him, holding the camera with that smug little smile, like he was the one who’d just hit five million.

Jayce exhaled and turned back to the cake. He closed his eyes briefly, making a wish—though if he was being honest, his biggest wish was already sitting right in front of him.

Then he blew out the candles, a little cheer coming from Viktor.

Viktor grinned behind the camera. "Alright, speech time. What do you have to say for yourself, superstar?"

Jayce rolled his eyes but couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He leaned into the camera, propping his chin in his hand. "First of all, I’d like to thank my incredible best friend Viktor, who, unbeknownst to me, has clearly been scheming with my subscribers behind my back—"

Viktor wiggled his fingers dramatically. "Secret alliances, Jayce. It’s what I do. I’m conniving like that."

Jayce huffed, shaking his head. "Yeah, yeah. Seriously, though—I wouldn’t be here without you guys. This channel started as just me playing video games in my room, and somehow, somehow , five million of you thought that was worth sticking around for. That’s insane. I don’t know what I did to deserve it, but I’m grateful every damn day. So… thank you."

He hesitated, glancing toward Viktor, who was still watching him through the camera lens. "Gracias, Chequito."

“Není problém, štěňátko.” Viktor’s smirk softened, his grip on the camera steady, but his gaze warm. For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then, Viktor cleared his throat and smirked. "Touching. Very heartfelt. Now, eat your cake before I do puppy."

Jayce laughed, reaching for his fork. "Yes, sir."

Jayce sprawled across the couch, phone in hand, mindlessly scrolling through the comments on Viktor’s latest video—the one from the restaurant. The one where Viktor had surprised him with a five-million-subscriber celebration so ridiculously thoughtful it made Jayce’s heart ache.

It had been hours since their lunch and Viktor’s upload, but the comment section was already a minefield.

At the very top, pinned by Viktor himself:

@Jayvikiscanon: Puppy??? SIR??? Uhm, guys? GUYS???

Jayce groaned, scrubbing a hand down his face.

Why was he like this?

He kept scrolling.

@JaceTheAce: Bro, is it just me or does Viktor look at Jayce like he personally painted the sky for him???

@surpriseattack: Just friends my ass, dude. Just friends if friends meant married, with seven kids, a mortgage, an inextricable soulbond that tethers each one to the other and a fucking san bernardo dog for fucks sake jajajaj

@PixelGremlin: THE WAY VIKTOR LEARNED SPANISH FOR HIM??? My standards for men are ruined.

@SleepyGoblinArt: I love how Jayce literally launched himself across the table to hug him. Man was fighting for his life.

His chest felt warm, tight, stupidly full with something he couldn’t shake.

Not because of the comments—he was used to people shipping them by now—but because for a second, he’d let himself pretend.

Pretend Viktor had really done it for him, not just as a good friend. Pretend the warmth in his eyes, the way he smiled at Jayce, meant something more.

But he couldn't do that. Not after their conversation that night.

Not after Viktor admitted he was terrified of fucking up their friendship—of getting something wrong, of people leaving him, of the time with Jayce being the happiest of his life.

Jayce had sat there, heart pounding, wanting so badly to tell him, y ou couldn’t ruin this if you tried. You already have me, Viktor. You’ve had me for years, long before we even met I was yours.

But he hadn’t.

Because how could he? How could he push for more when Viktor had told him that? He couldn’t take advantage of Viktor at his most vulnerable, to push for a relationship he might not even want? It would make it seem like that’s all Jayce was after, and he couldn’t do that to him.

The comments only got worse.

@FluffyMoth: Viktor pretending not to care when Jayce left him for five minutes to go to the bathroom is so obvious. Just say you’re in love already. Man looked like a lost kitten without Jayce.

@GearHead7: Jayce calling Viktor ‘Chequito’ and Viktor SMILING LIKE THAT????? I need to lie down.

Jayce dragged the play bar back, watching himself lean into Viktor, grin wide as he called him Chequito.

Viktor’s face softened—small at first, then warm, something fond in his eyes as he looked at Jayce like he was the only person in the room.

Jayce’s breath caught. He hadn’t even noticed that.

He clicked the next comment.

@Athymelyreply: Just friends my ass 🙄 They’re moving in together within the year and fucking on every available surface.

@Daykeeper: just friends my ass! 

@realtogether: I don’t care what anyone says, they’re in love. They just don’t know it yet

Jayce swallowed hard, shutting off his phone and staring at the ceiling.

No. He knew.

He’d known for a long time.

He just didn’t know if Viktor felt the same.

And until he did, he wasn’t willing to risk losing him.

Viktor sat at his desk, idly spinning a pen between his fingers as he scrolled through the comments on Jayce’s VidCon vlog.

He’d already watched the video—five times, if he was being honest. Not because he cared about seeing himself on camera, but because Jayce had filmed it. And Jayce was… Jayce.

Warm, golden, the kind of person who pulled people in without trying.

Viktor wasn’t immune to it.

And apparently, neither was anyone else.

His lips twitched as he read the top comment.

@SpinnerFan77: Did you guys see Viktor kissing Jayce’s book when he signed it? That was an attack. A crime. He needs to be arrested immediately.

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh. Alright, maybe it was a bit much. But how was he supposed to resist teasing him? He looked so pretty when he blushed.

He scrolled down.

@VoltageGoddess: Jayce standing in line for Viktor’s autograph like a devoted fanboy and then Viktor just—kisses the page??? Bold as hell.

@SoftMech: I swear Jayce only reads when Viktor writes it. Mans was ready to pass out when Vik kissed that book.

Viktor smirked, resting his chin in his hand. Jayce had gone so pink. That alone had made the whole thing worth it.

He kept scrolling, eyebrows raising at the next batch of comments.

@NightOwl38: The way Jayce follows Viktor through crowds like a bodyguard, does he even realize???

@Viktorswife:  I rewatched this and Jayce walks so close to Viktor it’s like they’re magnetized. And Viktor?? Doesn’t move away. Not even once.

Viktor blinked, dragging the play bar back.

Jayce at his side, walking close—so close Viktor could feel his warmth. And the weirdest part? He never tensed.

Viktor had spent his whole life flinching when people touched him unexpectedly. He still did. But Jayce? Jayce was different.

His fingers lingered at Viktor’s lower back when guiding him through crowds. Rested easily on his shoulder without hesitation. And Viktor let him.

He exhaled sharply, fingers tightening on his pen. He hadn’t even noticed his body language changed so much around Jayce.

The comments kept coming.

@TinkerBelle22: "Not Viktor literally tensing whenever anyone touches him EXCEPT JAYCE. Sir?? Care to explain??"

@MegaMoth: "Jayce is Viktor’s emotional support golden retriever, change my mind."

He bit his lip, half-exasperated, half—something else. Fond, maybe.

Then, of course, the video had to remind him of his own dumb antics.

@GreaseMonkey007: "WHY IS NO ONE TALKING ABOUT VIKTOR MAKING JAYCE PAY FOR COFFEE BY PRETENDING HE STOLE HIS CANE. I'M LOSING IT. MY FRIEND SAW IT AND SPRINTED TO TELL ME ABOUT IT!"

Viktor couldn’t help it—he laughed, dropping his forehead onto his hand.

@UCANOTBSRS: Wow, Jayce. You would steal from a disabled man? A poor, sickly scholar?”

@RogueWench: "Viktor is a MENACE. Jayce is so down bad it’s embarrassing."

@IAMToast_Fan: "The way Jayce just accepted it and paid. This is what it means to be in love."

Viktor stilled.

In love? Jayce? In love with...him?

He swallowed, dragging his cursor away from the comment section, away from the overwhelming amount of people who thought they were something more.

Jayce was naturally a kind person. He was open and sweet to everyone he met. Viktor wasn’t anything special.

He picked up his phone, and automatically found Jayce’s number in his phone. Unsurprisingly, Jayce picked up on the second ring. 

“V? It’s Shabbat isn’t it, what’re you doing on the phone? Are you okay?” 

Jayce’s instant concern warmed him like nothing else did. He glanced out the window, the sun just beginning to dip under the horizon. 

“Not quite yet.” he murmured. “Not until there’s two stars in the sky. I just…I wanted to talk to you.” 

“Oh, yeah of course, we can talk. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine I just…miss you already, I guess.” Viktor looked out the window, biting his lip. “I uh…do you wanna come over? Tonight? Y-you don’t have to I’d just…like to maybe spend Shabbat with you.” 

“Is that okay? I mean, I’m not Jewish, am I allowed to do that?” 

“Of course you are Jayce, a Jew is inviting you.” Viktor shook his head, amused. “Shabbat is a time we’re meant to spend with people we…” people we love. “We care about. And without my family here, it can get a little lonely. I’d be happy to have you here.”

There was a pause on the other end, just long enough that Viktor wondered if he’d overstepped. If he’d made things too obvious.

Then Jayce exhaled, soft and warm through the receiver. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to. Just tell me what to bring.”

Viktor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, a slow, steady warmth spreading in his chest. “Nothing, just yourself. I’ll handle the rest.”

Jayce chuckled. “You sure? ‘Cause I feel like if I don’t bring at least a bottle of wine, I’m gonna be a bad guest.”

“It wouldn’t be kosher, you don’t know what to do look for.” Viktor huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “It’s alright, I have everything we need here. Just…just bring that handsome face over.”

“Got it, that’s easy since it’s attached to me.” Jayce said easily, and Viktor could hear the rustling of him already moving around, probably grabbing his keys. “I’ll be there soon.”

Viktor lingered for a moment after Jayce hung up, staring down at his phone, at the warmth in Jayce’s voice still echoing in his ears.

“Gut Shabbos, Viktor.”

Jayce’s smile was so earnest when Viktor opened the door that it startled a soft laugh out of him. He barely had time to react before Jayce stepped forward, wrapping his arms around Viktor’s shoulders. Viktor let himself be pulled into the embrace, pressing his hands against Jayce’s back, breathing in his familiar warmth.

“Gut Shabbos,” he murmured, voice lighter than it had been all day.

Jayce let out a small, relieved sigh. “So I got it right?”

Viktor leaned back just enough to look at him, amused. “Where did you even learn that?”

Jayce rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Uh… the internet. I Googled it on the way here. Did I uh…say it correctly?”

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh, stepping aside to let him in. “יאָ, מיין ליבע. It was perfect.”

Jayce blinked. “That— that sounded kinda German.”

“Yiddish, like what you just spoke.” Viktor corrected, reaching up to adjust the yarmulke already clipped into his curls. “It comes from German, but it’s its own language. My grandparents spoke it growing up—they were children, during the war, you know—but it was suppressed under communism. I only know a few phrases, tati never learned.”

Jayce looked at him carefully, his expression softer now. “I didn’t know that.”

Viktor hummed. “Yiddish isn’t common these days.”

Jayce hesitated for a second before reaching out, his fingers brushing Viktor’s sleeve. “Well… if you ever wanna teach me some, I’d like to learn.”

Viktor glanced up at him, startled. Then he smiled—small but warm, something settled in his chest. “Really?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” Jayce said, his voice quiet but sure.

Viktor smiled, nodding in satisfaction. “First lesson then—you need a yarmulke.”

“Is that what you’ve got on your head?” Jayce asked, watching as Viktor rummaged through a small box on the dresser.

“Mhm. Some people wear them all the time, but I only wear mine when I pray.” Viktor pulled out a round, deep blue kippah and turned toward Jayce, gesturing for him to bend down. “Come here, you’re too damn tall.”

Jayce chuckled and ducked his head, letting Viktor settle the fabric onto his curls. “Feels weird. Like it’s gonna fall off.”

“Hold on, I’ll get a clip.” Viktor reached into the box again, retrieving a small metal clip before carefully slipping it into Jayce’s hair. His fingers brushed lightly against Jayce’s scalp, and for a second, Jayce swore Viktor hesitated—just barely—before snapping it into place.

“There.” Viktor pulled back, looking pleased with his work. “These were my father’s when he was young. He gave them to me when I left home.” His voice softened slightly. “It’s… safer to wear them in public here in America than in most of Czechia, but it still feels… hm.” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Anyway. Unless I’m in synagogue, I don’t really wear them outside.”

Jayce frowned. “Is there even a synagogue in Piltover? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one.”

“Not here, no.” Viktor hummed thoughtfully. “In Atascadero, there is—Congregation Ohr Tzafon. It’s a small community, but I’ve been there a few times for holidays when I can’t get back home.” He hesitated, then added, “Rabbi Emerita was very welcoming. The congregation here is much more accepting of the LGBTQ+ community. She’s a lovely woman, reminds me of my máma in a lot of ways.”

Jayce smiled, nudging Viktor’s arm gently. “That’s really nice. Must’ve been comforting, having that sense of home even so far away.”

Viktor exhaled a small laugh. “Yes, well. A home is not just a place, Jayce. It is the people you spend it with.”

Jayce’s smile softened. “Then I guess you’re home right now.”

Viktor ducked his head, but a small, pleased smile tugged at his lips. “She also makes the most amazing cheesecakes for Shavuot. Perfectly creamy, just the right amount of sweetness.”

Jayce’s eyebrows shot up. “Cheesecake? You never told me there was a cheesecake holiday! Where do I sign up for this Jewish thing?”

Viktor chuckled. “Not just about cheesecake, but yes. Dairy foods are traditional.”

Jayce grinned. “I gotta try this now. Maybe I should come with you sometime. I mean, if that’s okay?”

Viktor’s eyes flickered with something warm, surprised. “You would want to?”

“Yeah, why not? You said it’s a welcoming place, and it’s important to you. Plus, I’m not saying no to world-class cheesecake.”

Viktor let out a delighted laugh, shaking his head. “You are ridiculous. But… I would like that.”

“It’s part of your culture, V. I’d like to be involved, if it’s alright with you. You’re…you’re important to me.” Jayce confessed, scratching the back of his neck.

Viktor smiled softly. “And you’re important to me Jayce. I don’t go often, as I’ve said I’m not very religious. It’s more of tradition for me than spiritual. But…I’d be happy to take you with me, next time I go.”

“Alright then.” Jayce grinned. “But I want a nice yarmulke.” 

Viktor chuckled. “Sure, I can find you a good one.”

Jayce’s gaze drifted to the box, catching a glimpse of a white and gold yarmulke tucked neatly inside. “I like that one.” He pointed, noting the delicate golden Star of David embroidered at the top. “It’s super shiny.”

Viktor followed his line of sight and smiled. “Ah, that’s my special one. For Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.” His fingers ghosted over the fabric before glancing at Jayce. “It’s real gold in the thread. Děda had it made for me when I came out. Said if I was going to be a man I should have a proper yarmulke.”

Jayce’s breath caught for a moment, something warm settling deep in his chest. “That’s…really beautiful, V.”

Viktor shrugged, but there was a quiet fondness in his expression. “Yeah. It is.”

“So, what do we need to do?” Jayce asked, eyeing the little dining table Viktor had already set with plates and cutlery.

“Ah, you don’t need to do anything. You’re the guest.” Viktor said, putting away his box. “I need to light the candles first, do the blessings, then bless the wine, then bless the challah. Then we can eat.”

“Sounds involved.” Jayce said, taking a seat at the table.

“Oh no, takes like five seconds if you say it fast.” Viktor waved a hand dismissively, fetching two candles and their holders, setting them in the center of the table. He placed a small glass cup in front of Jayce and poured red wine into it, then did the same for his own cup. The bread, Jayce noted, was covered with a pretty embroidered cloth.

“It’s shy,” Viktor said, with a playful smirk. "We mustn't embarrass the challah."

Jayce chuckled. Viktor hummed, then struck a match, lighting the candles with a quiet precision. He moved his hands in slow circles around the flames, drawing them inward three times before covering his eyes. Jayce stayed quiet, watching the flickering light dance over Viktor’s face as he murmured something softly in Hebrew, so quiet he couldn’t distinguish the syllables even if he could understand it.

When Viktor lowered his hands, his expression had settled into something peaceful, more at ease than Jayce had seen him all day. “That’s one down,” Viktor quipped, reaching for his wine glass.

Jayce lifted his own instinctively. “L’chaim, right?”

Viktor’s mouth quirked in approval. “L’chaim, yes. But after I’ve done the blessing, I’ll tell you when.”

Jayce nodded. Viktor spoke a little louder this time, gaining a bit of confidence. He nodded to Jayce, and their glasses clinked gently with a “L’chaim” before taking a sip.

Jayce followed, hissing at the taste. “Damn, that’s…”

“I know, kiddush wine always sucks. The suffering is part of the experience.” Viktor laughed softly. “Come, we need to wash our hands now. I’ll do the blessing for you.” 

Viktor lead Jayce to the sink and turned on the tap. “Pass your hand under three times, then the other.” he instructed softly. “I’ll recite the blessing for you,” 

“I want to do it. Will you teach me the words?” Jayce asked. 

Viktor’s eyes softened. “Sure, štěně. All the blessing start the same way. Repeat after me—Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech ha’olam. Asher Kiddushanu Bemitzvotav Vitzivanu. Al Netilat Yadayim.”

Jayce’s brow furrowed in concentration as he carefully repeated the words, his voice a little hesitant but earnest. Viktor’s gaze lingered on him, something fond and amused in his expression.

“That was perfect,” Viktor murmured, reaching for Jayce’s wrist to guide his hands under the water. His fingers were warm against Jayce’s skin, lingering just a second too long before pulling away. “Now, don’t speak again until after the challah.”

Jayce arched a brow, grinning as he let the water cascade over his hands. “Not even to tell you how pretty you look in candlelight?”

Viktor exhaled sharply, biting back a smile. He grabbed a towel and shoved it into Jayce’s hands. “Behave.”

Jayce smirked but fell silent, drying his hands as he followed Viktor back to the table. The candlelight flickered in the small space, casting soft golden halos around them. The warmth of it, the closeness of it—it settled into something deeper than simple tradition.

Viktor uncovered the challah again, its golden crust gleaming under the low light. He met Jayce’s eyes briefly before reciting the blessing, his voice dipping into something softer, more reverent. He cut the bread with a large knife. Then, he tore a piece from the cut half, sprinkling salt over it before passing it to Jayce, their fingers brushing for just a moment.

Jayce took a bite, the sweetness of the bread melting on his tongue. He hummed, nodding approvingly. “Now this is worth keeping quiet for.”

Viktor laughed, shaking his head. “See? You’re already learning.”

“You’ve been holding out of me Vik, you’re supposed to be my best friend. How could you not tell me your people have the best bread I’ve ever eaten?”

Viktor laughed, shaking his head. “We are the religion of food, what can I say? Now you know my secret. Shabbat dinner is always worth waiting for.” He settled back in his chair, warm and content. “Now we eat. I made goulash, please have as much as you like Jayce.” 

Jayce didn’t need to be told twice.

For a while, they ate in comfortable quiet, the intimacy of the moment settling between them like a familiar embrace. The flickering candlelight, instead of bright, harsh lighting made the atmosphere pretty romantic. 

Viktor glanced up, watching Jayce sip from his cup, eyes soft with something unreadable. He reached out, just briefly, brushing a crumb from Jayce’s cheek with the pad of his thumb.

Jayce caught his wrist before he could pull away. His touch was warm, steady. “Thank you for sharing this with me,” he murmured, voice quiet but certain.

Viktor swallowed, his throat suddenly tight. “Of course.”

He let him go, Viktor immediately lowering his eyes back to his food. Jayce sighed, smiling. He looked so soft under candlelight. 

“So, if you don’t use technology during Shabbat, what do you normally do?” he asked.

“Read usually, sometimes I take a bath.” Viktor answered. “Shabbat is a time of rest, doing things we don’t have the time to do during the work week. It’s a time where we are supposed to spend in the company of loved ones.” Viktor smiled, gazing into the flickering candles. “Mami used to make shadow puppets on the wall with us when we were kids, we’d make up stories together.”

“That’s actually adorable.” Jayce grinned. Confidently, he held up a hand, twisting it to form the vague shape of a dog in the shadow on the wall. “Alright, go on and name the dog.”

Viktor laughed. “This is so stupid…”

“Come on V,” he coaxed. “The doggie needs a name,”

Viktor shook his head, sighing in exasperation, though the smile creeping onto his face betrayed him. “Jayce, obviously. What other name would be fitting a puppy dog?” 

Jayce grinned. “Okay, so one Jayce the dog was walking through the field and…?”

Viktor’s smile grew, and he though he rolled his eyes, he held up his hand to the light. “And he saw Viktor, the duck! And this was his damn field, so why was Jayce the dog roaming around in it like he owned the place?”

Jayce gasped dramatically. “Because Jayce the dog was a very noble and handsome dog, obviously, and he had important business in the field. Maybe he was on a quest!”

Viktor tilted his head, his own shadow puppet shifting slightly. “A quest? Hm. And what, pray tell, was so important that he had to trample through my field?”

“He was searching for the legendary golden bone,” Jayce declared, wiggling his fingers to make the dog’s mouth move. “Said to be buried somewhere deep in the land of—” He paused for effect, eyes flicking to Viktor mischievously. “—Ducktopia.”

Viktor barked out a laugh. “Ducktopia? How original.” He adjusted his hand, making his duck shadow flap its wings. “Well, Jayce the dog was out of luck, because Viktor the duck was the ruler of Ducktopia, and he had hidden the golden bone where no dog could ever reach it.”

Jayce narrowed his eyes playfully. “Oh yeah? And where’s that?”

Viktor leaned in slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “In the royal duck’s secret vault, guarded by an army of highly-trained goose soldiers.”

Jayce groaned. “Geese? Oh, come on, that’s cheating! They’re menaces!”

“Ahh well.” Viktor smirked. “You should have thought about that before trespassing in Ducktopia.”

Jayce crossed his arms, pretending to sulk. “Alright, fine. Maybe Jayce the dog decides to negotiate instead. Maybe he and Viktor the duck—” he nudged Viktor’s knee under the table, “—form an alliance. A truce, even.”

Viktor raised a brow. “A truce, hm? And what would Jayce the dog offer in return for this alliance?”

Jayce tapped his chin, thinking. Then he reached out and took Viktor’s hand in his, squeezing gently. “His company,” he said, voice softer now. “Because quests are a lot more fun when you don’t do them alone.”

Viktor blinked, caught off guard for a moment. Then, slowly, he squeezed Jayce’s hand back. “Hm,” he hummed, tilting his head. “I suppose even a duck could use a good companion.”

They sat like that for a moment, hands resting together on the table, the flickering candlelight casting warm shadows around them.

Viktor exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “A quest for a golden bone, really?”

Jayce grinned. “You’re just mad because I found a way to win.”

Viktor scoffed, pulling his hand away to pick up his wine cup. “This time, maybe. But next week, I’ll be prepared.”

“Next week?” Jayce asked, hopeful.

Viktor met his gaze, lips curling into a soft smile. “Next week. Staying the night?"

The apartment was quiet except for the steady tick of the clock on the wall and the distant hum of the city outside. Jayce had fallen asleep easily, sprawled on his back with one arm flung over his face. Viktor, on the other hand, was staring at the ceiling, gritting his teeth against the dull, gnawing ache creeping up his bad leg.

He shifted, trying to find a position that didn’t aggravate it, but every movement sent a fresh wave of pain radiating from his knee. He exhaled sharply through his nose, hands gripping the blanket in frustration. He hated this. Hated how it crept up on him without warning. Hated how it made even something as simple as sleep feel like an uphill battle.

A rustle of sheets. Then, Jayce’s voice, groggy but alert.

“Vik? You okay?”

Viktor swallowed, debating whether to brush it off. But Jayce was already shifting, propping himself up on an elbow, eyes soft with concern. Lying was pointless.

“My leg,” Viktor admitted reluctantly. “It’s acting up.”

Jayce pushed himself upright immediately. “Shit, alright. What do you need? Medicine?”

“Just—pressure. Sometimes that helps.” Viktor’s voice was tight, clipped.

Jayce didn’t hesitate. He slid closer, warm and solid, and carefully placed his hands on Viktor’s thigh, applying gentle but firm pressure. “Like this?”

Viktor exhaled, the relief immediate. “Yes. That’s…good.” 

He blinked down at Jayce’s hands, feeling a hot flash run down his chest at the visual. Jayce’s hands completely wrapped around around his thigh. He swallowed thickly. “Have you always had the hands of a giant, Jayce?”

“Well, you know what they say about men with big hands.” Jayce grinned.

Viktor huffed softly, shaking his head. “That’s feet, Jayce.”

“Eh, same difference.” he shrugged, tentatively beginning to massage the muscles under his fingertips. He looked up at Viktor’s groan. “Good?”

“Mm. It’s helping.” he breathed.

Jayce held steady, watching Viktor’s face, the way the tension slowly eased from his features. “You should’ve woken me up,” he murmured.

“Didn’t want to bother you.”

Jayce scoffed. “Yeah, well, you’re not a bother. Not to me.” He adjusted his grip slightly, making sure the pressure stayed even. “You need heat? Heat usually helps me. If you’ve got heat packs, I can go get one for you.”

“Jayce, that’s not necessary.” Viktor protested. “This happens all the time, it will go away on its own.”

“Yeah, when? Hours from now, leaving you without sleep?” Jayce challenged. “No, that’s not good enough V, you shouldn’t have to put up with being in pain.”

“I’m always in pain,” Viktor sighed. “Every moment of every day, since as long as I can remember. Pain is nothing. I can deal with pain.” 

Jayce frowned, his grip tightening just slightly. “Just because you can deal with it doesn’t mean you should have to.” His voice was softer now, stubborn but not unkind.

Viktor exhaled through his nose, tilting his head back against the pillow. “I do not like being fussed over, Jayce.”

“Yeah, well, tough, ‘cause I’m fussing.”

Viktor huffed, but there was no real bite to it. “Jayce—”

“Viktor.” Jayce said firmly. “Let me do something for you for once, yeah? Friendship’s a two-way street. Let me give it back.”

Viktor hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Then…that would be nice. I have…my heatpacks are in the bathroom.”

“I’m on it.” Jayce patted his thigh gently before slipping out of bed, padding to the bathroom. A minute later, he returned with the stickable heatpad, placing it carefully over Viktor’s upper thigh. He wrapped another one around his calf muscle, and a final one around his ankle. The warmth seeped into his skin, easing the worst of the ache.

Viktor sighed, sinking into the pillow. “That’s much better.”

Jayce smiled, settling beside him again. “Good. You got blood pooling?”

Viktor hummed in the affirmative, so Jayce helped him ease his leg up elevated it onto a firm pillow. He went back to massaging the areas not covered in heat packs.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “You’re hovering.”

Jayce grinned, unbothered. “And?”

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh, then, after a moment, shifted just slightly to the side—just enough to make space. Jayce got the message, lying down beside him. He slid an arm under him, propping up his lower back slightly to take the pessure off his spine.

“You’re worse than my mother.” Viktor mumbled. 

“Ha, jokes on you I take that as a badge of honour.” Jayce teased. Viktor just rolled his eyes.

“Has it always been this bad?” Jayce asked softly.

Viktor sighed, shifting slightly under the covers. He winced, gingerly pointing his foot up to relieve some tension in his ankle.

“No, its a progressive disease I’m told.” he murmured. “Gets worse with age. The leg isn’t the worst, it’s just the most noticeable. My spine is the major problem. I had to undergo three corrective surgeries before I hit 10.”

“God, V…” 

“Apparently, my birth wasn’t easy on my mother,” Viktor murmured. “Almost killed her. And me, twice. They had to resuscitate me.”

Jayce’s arm tightened around his waist, a silent comfort.

“Doctors told my parents I wouldn’t make it past 5.” Viktor let out a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “Said surgery wasn’t worth it. A waste of money, since I wouldn’t live long enough for it to matter.”

Jayce made a noise of protest, but Viktor only shook his head.

“Mami didn’t listen, of course. Got me the surgery anyway.” He smiled faintly. “Most kids start walking around 18 months, right? I didn’t take my first steps until I was 3.”

Jayce didn’t interrupt, just rubbed slow circles against Viktor’s back.

“Fell right away.” Viktor huffed softly. “Something in my leg just—snapped. Atrophied muscle. They had to put a metal rod in to keep me stable.”

Jayce frowned. “You still have it?”

“Not the original one, no. But I have support rods now. In my leg, my spine too.” Viktor shifted slightly, resting more fully against Jayce. “The disease ate away the cartilage between my vertebrae. Bone grinding on bone—hurts like hell.”

Jayce swore under his breath. “Shit, V—”

“Getting up and down is the worst.” Viktor went on, voice almost detached. “Bending, too. If I move wrong, I can pinch a nerve bad enough to land in the hospital. Learned to hold my breath when I bend—keeps me from making it worse.”

Jayce swallowed hard. “They couldn’t… do anything?”

“They could fuse my spine, but then I wouldn’t be able to move at all. The rods help, so I chose pain over losing my mobility. I spent more time in the hospital as a kid I don’t even remember what our house looked like.”

Jayce was quiet for a long moment before pressing a kiss to Viktor’s hair, holding him just a little tighter. “I had no idea you were dealing with all that.”

Jayce’s voice was barely above a whisper, heavy with something Viktor didn’t quite have the energy to name. Sympathy, maybe. Or guilt, though Viktor didn’t know why Jayce would feel guilty about something that had nothing to do with him.

“You don’t have to—” Viktor started, but Jayce shook his head.

“I just—” Jayce exhaled, rubbing a hand down his face. “That sounds… lonely.”

Viktor huffed a small, dry laugh. “I had my books.”

Jayce gave him a look. “Books aren’t people, Viktor.”

“No, but they don’t leave.”

The words slipped out before Viktor could stop them. He felt Jayce go still beside him. A beat of silence stretched between them, and Viktor almost regretted saying it—almost.

Jayce’s voice was softer when he spoke again. “Is that what happened?”

Viktor didn’t answer right away. His fingers curled slightly into the blanket, eyes fixed on a point somewhere past Jayce’s shoulder. 

“Most people do not like to be around the sick.” His voice was quiet, almost matter-of-fact. “It reminds them too much of their own mortality.” He glanced at Jayce, his lips twitching upward, though there was little humor in it. “I was the sick kid that was going to die soon, why bother putting in any effort into someone who might not be there tomorrow?”

“Viktor! You weren’t something to be invested into, you’re a person!” Jayce cried. “And people need love to heal, as much as they need medicine.”

“It is easier for people to look away, they don’t like seeing people they love in pain. I understand.”

Jayce felt something tighten in his chest. He shifted, bracing one hand on the pillow so he could turn and look at Viktor properly. “I’m not looking away.”

Viktor met his gaze then, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. He studied Jayce’s face for a long moment, searching for something. Whatever he found there must have satisfied him, because, after a pause, he exhaled softly and nodded. A tiny smile curled at the edges of his lips.

“I know.”

Jayce let out a breath, shifting closer so their shoulders brushed. “Good.”

Silence settled between them again, but this time, it was different. Less heavy. Less distant.

After a moment, Jayce reached out, fingers barely brushing Viktor’s wrist. He hesitated, giving Viktor a chance to pull away.

Viktor didn’t.

So Jayce took his hand, warm and steady, and squeezed.

“I would have stayed. In the hospital with you.” Jayce mumbled. “Every day. I’d bring you toys we could play with and make sure the nurses were being nice to you.”

Viktor squeezed his hand. “I know, Jayce. But even you need sunshine or you’ll run out of your own.”

“Then I’d go out and get some more, so I could give it to you and cheer you up.” Jayce said, his easy, simple confidence making Viktor chuckle. His heart squeezed painfully in his chest. 

“I don’t mean to trauma dump on you,” he muttered, his tone depreciating in a way that Jayce was simply not having. 

"Viktor." Jayce said his name like it was something solid, something grounding. He gave his hand another squeeze, firmer this time. "This isn’t—" He shook his head. "You’re not dumping anything on me. You’re telling me about your life. And I want to know."

Viktor exhaled, long and slow. His thumb traced absently over the back of Jayce’s hand.

"It’s not exactly uplifting conversation. It’s difficult to talk about my life without it being traumatic.” 

"You don’t always have to be uplifting." Jayce nudged him lightly. "I mean, if you want, I can start complaining about how my mom made me take piano lessons as a kid. Total tragedy, let me tell you."

Viktor let out a breathy laugh, shaking his head. "That is a tragic backstory, totally trumps mine."

"Thank you, I suffered greatly." Jayce grinned. 

Viktor hummed. “I can tell, sounds like a nightmare.” 

“Worst part is I still can’t play for shit.” Jayce chuckled. Then, softer, "I just don’t want you to feel like you haveto filter things around me. You can tell me when you’re hurting, y’know?"

Viktor hesitated, but Jayce could feel the way his fingers curled more securely around his own.

"I know." Viktor murmured. He sighed again, shifting a little, pressing closer. "I’m just not used to it. When you’ve been ill for so long, you get used to people getting annoyed when you bring it up too much, so you learn to just shut up and pretend you’re okay when you’re dying inside.”

"Then we’ll work on that." Jayce said, easy and sure, like it was a fact. "Starting with this— how do you want me to help? How can I help you?"

Viktor hesitated again, but this time, he let himself lean into Jayce’s warmth.

"Just stay." he said quietly. “Just be you. That’s all I need, miláčku.”

Jayce didn’t even need to think about it. "Always, querido.”

He shifted, tucking the blankets up higher around Viktor’s shoulders. “Now try to get some sleep, okay?”

Viktor hummed, his eyes already fluttering shut. He felt Jayce’s hand rest lightly over his, grounding and warm.

“Thank you,” he murmured, half-asleep already.

Jayce squeezed his fingers gently. “Anytime, Vik. See you in the morning.”

Jayce woke to the faint sound of murmured words, rhythmic and steady, like the ebb and flow of waves against a shore. Blinking against the early morning light, he stretched, the empty space beside him in bed still faintly warm.

He pushed himself up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he followed the sound into the living room.

Viktor stood by the open window, bathed in soft golden light, his tallit draped over his shoulders. The delicate blue embroidery caught the dawn, its fringes swaying slightly as he shifted. His prayer book was open in one hand, the other gripping his cane tightly as he rocked forward slightly on the balls of his feet.

It took Jayce a moment to realize—he was struggling. Not with the prayers; his voice was fluid, confidence in the familiar words. But the balance, the way he gripped his cane a little too tightly, how his fingers trembled as they tried to hold the book steady.

Jayce hesitated for only a second before stepping forward. Gently, he reached out, his hands covering Viktor’s, steadying the book without a word.

Viktor startled slightly at the contact, his voice faltering, before he glanced at Jayce. There was something unguarded in his expression—half gratitude, half something deeper, something he wasn’t quite sure how to voice.

Jayce only smiled, giving his hands a reassuring squeeze.

Viktor exhaled, soft and steady, and without another word, he continued his prayers.

Jayce couldn’t read anything on the page, the Hebrew alphabet entirely alien to him. He watched Viktor’s eyes go from right to left, mumbling the words aloud just enough, leaning more heavily on his cane so he could safely rock back and forth. The tallit slipped off his shoulder, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, folding it back up over again. 

It was clearly a common enough occurrence that it didn’t even interrupt his rhythm, he didn’t even need to look away from the page as he fixed it. He indicated for Jayce to turn the page, and continued on. 

“Be done soon.” he murmured, glancing up at him. “Almost finished the daily miracles.”

“Take your time.” Jayce said softly. “You look beautiful like this.”

Slightly dazed at the compliment, Viktor smiled shyly, looking back at the prayer. He finished not long after, and with a grateful sigh, slipped the tallit off his shoulders and sank down onto the couch. 

“Okay that’s my Jewish-ing for the week.” he rubbed his face, already looking tired before the day had really begun. 

“All done?” Jayce snapped the prayer book shut.  

“Mhm. Which means the rest of the day is ours. What should we do?” 

“Can we use tech yet?”

“Not until sunset.” Viktor shook his head. 

“Well then, in that case.” Jayce grinned, waving the prayer book in his hand. “You can teach me to read this.”

“The whole thing?” Viktor laughed. “I can’t even read all of it.”

“Just show me the ones we did last night, I wanna do it with you next week.”

“Ugh, Hebrew is too much work. Trust me Jayce you don’t wanna learn. I’d rather teach you Czech, it’s easier.” 

“Alright then, teach me Czech. I’ll teach you some Spanish in return.” Jayce said. 

“Okay, fine. Deal.” Viktor chuckled. “Let’s go to the dining table, and prepare to be incredibly frustrated for the next few hours.”

“Challenge accepted.” 

Jayce grinned, tossing the prayer book onto the couch before tugging Viktor up by the hand. “Come on, professor, let’s get started.”

Viktor groaned theatrically but allowed himself to be pulled along. “I already regret this.”

They settled at the dining table, Viktor stretching out his bad leg with a quiet sigh before resting his chin in his hand. Jayce, ever the eager student, grabbed a notepad and pen from the side table, tapping it against the wood expectantly.

“Alright, hit me. What’s ‘good morning’ in Czech?”

Viktor smirked. “Dobré ráno.”

“Dough-bray rah-no,” Jayce repeated slowly. “That doesn’t sound so bad.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Wait until we get to the ř.”

Jayce frowned. “The what?”

Viktor just grinned. “You’ll see.”

They spent the morning like that, trading words back and forth, Jayce stumbling through the unfamiliar syllables while Viktor chuckled at his attempts. In return, Jayce taught him a few Spanish phrases, watching with amusement as Viktor furrowed his brows, his accent mangling the softer sounds.

It was warm, slow, and unhurried—the kind of morning neither of them had very often. As it climbed into the midday, they stopped for lunch. Jayce insisted on getting the food so Viktor could sit for longer, reheating the goulash from dinner in the microwave. 

“So, question for you.” he said, sliding the bowl onto the table in front of Viktor. 

“Mm?” Viktor peered up at him curiously, watching him sit opposite him. 

“So next week is my sister’s birthday. Was wondering if you’d come with me to ma’s house for the party?” 

Viktor blinked, momentarily caught off guard. “Your sister?”

“Yeah, Caitlyn. It’s her 23rd.” Jayce smiled, tapping his fingers against the table. “We’re just doing a small thing—dinner, cake, Mario Kart. Thought maybe you’d want to come.”

Viktor hesitated, running his spoon idly through his food. “I—are you sure? Wouldn’t want to intrude on a family gathering.”

Jayce scoffed. “You wouldn’t be intruding, V. Her girlfriend Vi is coming, and our friend Ekko is coming down from San Fransico too. My mom will love you, and Cait—well, she likes anyone who can put up with me, which, let’s be real, is not many people.”

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “I don’t know, Jayce. I am not exactly the most social person, you know this.”

“That’s okay.” Jayce nudged his foot under the table. “You don’t have to be. Just come, eat good food, let my mom fuss over you a little, and listen to me get roasted by my sister for a few hours.” He grinned. “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

Viktor sighed, glancing down at his bowl as if it might contain the answer. Meeting Jayce’s family, his friends, that was a big deal, a big step…

But when he looked back up at Jayce, warm and hopeful, he found himself nodding. “Well alright, if I get to watch you be humiliated all evening.”

Jayce beamed. 

Chapter Text

Viktor scowled at his reflection, fingers digging into his curls as he tried, for what felt like the hundredth time, to flatten them. The more he fussed, the more they defied him—springing up wildly the moment he took his hands away. He groaned in frustration, cupping his hands under the running tap to bring water from the sink and dump it onto his head. The movement was jerky and feverish, running desperate damp fingers through his hair, trying to weigh it down. But now, instead of unruly curls, he looked like a drowned rat, limp strands sticking out at odd angles, clinging to his forehead.

His jaw clenched, frustration spiking hot in his chest. Should have just left it alone, now you’ve made it worse. 

He pased his fingers through his hair again, his head beginning to ache at how harshly he was tugging the wet strands. The water droplets dripped down the back of his neck and he growled, slapping at his skin to rid himself of the wetness. 

The shirt was too tight. Every time he moved, he felt the collar press against the back of his neck, a constant, irritating presence, and the stiff fabric around his arms made every motion feel restricted, wrong. He’d already unbuttoned two of his buttons, and yet he could still feel it around his throat. He couldn’t breathe, why couldn’t be breathe? He yanked at the front of his shirt, tearing it even further away from his throat, but it didn’t relieve any of the pressure.

His belt was digging into his hips, sending dull, throbbing pain up his back. The trousers pinched at his thighs when he shifted, too snug, too stiff, and his socks—God, his socks—were pulling at his leg hair like tiny, needling pinpricks every time he so much as twitched. He hadn’t been able to find ankle socks, these ones were too long and too painful, like walking on needles.

Everything was wrong.

His skin prickled with heat, suffocated beneath too many layers despite only having one , the weight of the clothes pressing against him like a vice. He tugged at the hem of his shirt, trying to make it sit right, but it just bunched up again. He pulled at the collar again, trying to make space, but it only made him more aware of how it was there . Nothing was even around his neck and yet he felt it so tight around his throat. He still couldn’t breathe . His fingers dug into the belt buckle, trying to lift it to sit above his aching hipbones, not on them, considering yanking it off entirely, but his hands were already shaking.

His breathing quickened. His heart pounded too fast, and the heat swelled in his chest, crawling up his neck. He was too hot . Too many sensations clawing at him at once—fabric scraping, belt digging, socks pulling, hair dripping cold onto his skin, and the damn collar—

The room felt smaller, the mirror too bright, his own reflection staring back at him in sharp, unfocused frustration. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms, his whole body tight with the overwhelming need to get it off, get it all off right now—

His breath stuttered, and stopped.

It was too much.

Everything was too much.

Anger bubbled in his chest, thick and suffocating, like a balloon expanding in his ribcage, pressing against his lungs, stealing his breath. His fingers curled into fists so tightly that his knuckles went white, the sharp sting of the aching bone barely registering against the whirlwind of frustration tearing through him.

The urge to do something —to lash out —clawed at his skin, at his muscles, at his bones. He wanted to rip the shirt from his body, shred the suffocating fabric into nothing, yank the belt off and hurl it across the room. He wanted to grab his comb and smash it against the sink, to send everything on the counter flying, just to make the world stop pressing in on him so damn much.

But he couldn’t. Couldn’t lose control over nothing . He wasn’t a child anymore, he couldn’t throw tantrums because things weren’t perfect.

His breath came in short, ragged bursts, the edges of his vision blurring with hot, stinging frustration. His hands shook with the effort to keep them still, to resist the overpowering instinct to destroy —to throw, to tear, to hit himself until the overwhelming pressure inside him had somewhere else to go.

No.

No, no, NO.

Jayce was in the living room. Jayce was waiting. He could not— would not —let him see this. He refused to let Jayce witness him like this , spiraling, unraveling, breaking apart over something as stupid as a shirt, a belt, his own damn hair .

But the harder he fought it, the worse it became.

The collar scraped at his neck like sandpaper, every shift of fabric against his skin unbearable. The belt was a vice crushing his hips. The socks were fire ants crawling up his legs, biting with every tiny movement. His damp curls clung to his forehead like needles prickling his scalp, heavy with water, and every time he tried to smooth them, they just got worse, they just kept sticking out all wrong, all wrong, ALL WRONG—

His breathing became ragged, filled with unshed tears. His vision blurred. His chest ached with the force of keeping it in, of not screaming, not crying, not breaking something, anything, himself—

He had to get ready. He had to be presentable. He had to hurry up , Jayce was waiting—

But he couldn’t move .

He was stuck, drowning in too much sensation, too much frustration, too much everything.

With a barely repressed growl, he clenched his shaking fist against the sink. The urge to punch struck with a suddenness that sent panic into his heart. He had to force his other hand down to clamp at his wrist — don't punch the mirror, don’t punch anything what is wrong with you calm down —but the shaking got worse, the adrenalin coursing through him took on a life of its own and as he moved away from the sink his damn shirt pulled at him again, the scratchy fabric over his too-hot skin tightening a phantom noose around his neck and he just—snapped.

He screamed, his fists tightening and launching themselves at his own head before he could even try to stop them.

The first blow barely registered—just a dull, jarring thud against his temple. The second sent a shockwave through his skull, the brief sting overridden by the sheer, blinding relief of it, of finally letting something out. The pressure inside him cracked like a dam splitting open, spilling out in a rush of fury and helplessness and too much, too much, too much . His breath choked him, something dangerously close to a sob clawing its way up his throat—

"Viktor!"

Jayce’s voice, sharp with alarm, barely cut through the static in his head before hands were on him—warm, steady hands, gripping his wrists, stopping the next strike before it could land. The interference sent another jolt of rage through him, a wild, cornered animal’s instinct to thrash, to fight, to shove him away . He had to move, had to do something , or he was going to implode —

"Hey—hey, no hitting, we’re not going to hurt ourselves," Jayce’s voice dropped, gentle but firm, like dealing with an unruly toddler. "You’re okay ."

No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t okay, he wasn’t anything but burning and fraying and shaking apart at the seams—

"Viktor, look at me." Jayce’s grip softened, his thumbs rubbing slow, grounding circles into Viktor’s wrists. "Just breathe. I’ve got you."

His breath hitched again, shuddering, but he couldn’t get a full inhale past the tight, crushing knot in his throat. His body hurt , his skin burned, everything was wrong . His fingers twitched, his nails biting into Jayce’s palms now instead of his own skin, and he hated it—hated that Jayce was seeing him like this, hated how exposed and helpless and raw he felt—

But Jayce didn’t let go. He didn’t recoil, didn’t flinch, didn’t look at him with pity or disgust or anything Viktor feared. He just held on .

"You’re safe," Jayce murmured. "I promise. Just breathe with me, okay?"

Viktor’s shoulders pinched as he sucked in a ragged breath. Too shallow. Too shaky. His throat clenched, his chest too tight, his whole body still too much .

Jayce exhaled slowly. "Like this," he said, exaggerating it, slow and steady, like Viktor didn’t already know how to breathe but needed someone to show him anyway.

And, god help him, Viktor tried.

But his skin was just too itchy, it was so fucking hot he couldn't breathe, couldn't think. He wanted to scream, to bite into his own flesh and draw blood, he wanted to rip into his skin and tear it off for offending him so much. He just wanted out of this stupid fucking body that didn't listen to him. He was a fucking rabid animal, and he needed release .

Jayce saw it the moment Viktor tipped past the edge. Hands wrenched out of his, and the sound that came out of Viktor was barely even human. His breath was staggered, his whole body coiled like a live wire, fingers clawing at his own sleeves like he could peel himself out of his own skin . His chest heaved in stuttering gasps, eyes unfocused, wild with the desperate need to escape .

Jayce knew words weren’t going to cut through it. Not now.

Without thinking, he booked it to the kitchen, ignoring the painful protest of his knee. He lunged for the freezer, yanked open the drawer, and grabbed the first thing his hands landed on. A lumpy, half-empty bag of frozen peas. Good enough.

He ran back just as Viktor’s hands twitched toward his own arms again, his nails digging in as if he could carve his way out of his body—

Jayce slammed the frozen peas right into his face.

The reaction was instant.

Viktor jerked , his breath stalling in a strangled choke as the icy shock slammed through his system. His whole body locked up, hands flinching away from his own skin as he recoiled from the sudden, biting cold. His breath hitched once, twice—

And then, without warning, he broke.

A harsh, shuddering sob ripped out of him, cracking him straight down the middle. His legs gave out, and Jayce barely managed to catch him before he hit the floor. Viktor’s fingers curled into Jayce’s shirt, clutching like a drowning man as the sobs wracked through him—deep, gasping, relieved sobs, like his body had been holding in a storm and had finally, finally found a way to let it go.

Jayce didn’t say anything. Didn’t tell him it was okay, didn’t shush him, didn’t try to fix what wasn’t broken. He just held him, rubbing slow circles into his back as Viktor clung to him, shaking apart but breathing again. Jayce placed the peas on the top of his head with one hand, letting the cold seep into his skull. Viktor let out a deep, shuddering sigh, completely deflating against Jayce’s chest like a boneless fish.

“…the fuck was that?” Viktor rasped after a long moment, voice wrecked.

Jayce huffed a small, breathless laugh against his hair. “Cold therapy. Works every time.”

Viktor made a weak, garbled noise into his chest, half a groan, half something almost like a laugh. He sniffed, wiping at his face, but didn’t pull away. “And you just—threw it at my face?”

Jayce shrugged. “Added shock value, like throwing a piece of cheese on a crying baby. Confuses and distracts, so the system snaps out of it.” 

Viktor let out a breathless, incredulous wheeze, his forehead still pressed against Jayce’s chest. “Are you—are you actually comparing me to a crying baby?”

Jayce grinned, pressing his cheek against the top of Viktor’s head. “Well, you did stop crying, didn’t you baby?”

Viktor groaned, his fingers tightening in Jayce’s shirt. “Oh fuck you, that’s not even funny. I hate you actually.”

“And yet, you’re still clinging to me.”

Viktor went silent for a beat, then exhaled heavily. He was exhausted, wrung out, but the worst of the storm had passed. He could breathe again. He reached up to take the peas off his head, the cold now a little too biting for his liking.

“…don’t let go yet,” he muttered, voice small.

Jayce softened. “Wasn’t planning on it.”

Viktor sighed, tucking himself against Jayce’s neck. Jayce’s warmth should have offended his frayed, overheated nerves, but it didn’t. It wasn’t that kind of heat. Jayce was the soothing kind of heat, the warmth of a deep heat cream for his aching muscles, or a solitary candle when he shut off all the lights to recover from a migraine. He was the kind of warmth that calmed, that made him sleepy and content and safe. 

Viktor was filled with an exhaustion that went to the bones. He couldn’t even imagine moving from this spot, his body heavy like a weighted blanket. It felt like too much effort to even open his eyes right now. He sank into a half-conscious, half-awake state, just floating inside his own head, held to reality only by Jayce’s arms around him. He became aware, vaguely, that Jayce was humming something. It sounded familiar, like a dream coming back to him in the morning light that he couldn’t quite recall the details for. 

He frowned softly, trying to focus his ears on it. Jayce wasn’t speaking English, that was for sure. He tried to make out the sounds.

“...andando y navegando un mundo, que cambia y sigue cambiando…”

Spanish. He was singing in Spanish.

He felt Jayce’s fingers feeling gingerly along his temple, looking for any damage Viktor may have caused. He hissed softly as his fingers pressed against a forming bruise. The fingers retreated at the sound, but returned more delicately, moving his hair out of the way to examine the extent of the hurt. 

Jayce didn’t stop singing, the soft slope of the foreign syllables were sweet and comforting to Viktor’s ears, even if he couldn’t understand the words. 

“Ay oruguitas, no se aguanten más,” the press of soft lips against the bruise. “Hay que crecer a parte y voler, hacia adelante seguirás,”

Viktor closed his eyes, letting the sounds wash over him, Jayce’s fingers and lips softly exploring the bruises on his head. Vienen milagros, vienen crisálidas. Jayce found another bruise, on the other side of his head, his thumb brushing over it tenderly as if to soothe the angry mark. Hay que partir y construir su propio futuro. He combed steady fingers through Viktor’s hair, sweeping from his scalp to the nape of his neck like one would stroke a cat’s back. 

Bile built up in Viktor’s throat, acidic and churning. Even as his nervous system calmed down, his mind was rebelling against the soothing. Like he didn’t deserve to be soothed, like he should be ashamed for needing it. His body felt like a battlefield—his heartbeat was slowly settling, but underneath it, the familiar feeling of shame began to settle in, thick and suffocating like smoke after a fire.

He’d lost control. Again. Over nothing .

Jayce’s fingers ghosted over the tender skin of his temple, moving with such care that it only made Viktor feel worse. Like he was fragile. Like he was something breakable that needed handling with caution. He wasn’t. He shouldn’t be.

His jaw clenched, eyes flicking to the mirror—only to immediately look away. He didn’t want to see himself like this. Face blotchy and wet, hair still an unfixable mess, body stiff with exhaustion from fighting against himself.

He felt stupid . Childish. Weak.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know what had happened, why it had happened. He could rationalize it, he could explain it, and yet—it didn’t matter . Knowing didn’t change the way his gut twisted, didn’t ease the self-loathing curling tight around his ribs.

He lived with a body that failed him in ways most people could see—his cane, his limp, the braces and rods holding him together—but this? This part of him that fractured and lashed out over something so insignificant ? This part of him that reduced him to a sobbing mess over a shirt, over his hair, over a belt that sat wrong on his hips?

It was humiliating.

“Well, this is humbling. And humiliating.” he muttered, voice muffled by Jayce’s chest. 

The fingers stroking him stilled. “Why?” 

The question sounded so innocent, so genuinely baffled that Viktor almost laughed aloud. Was he serious? 

“You just had to stop me from bashing my own skull in, because I was annoyed at my hair.” Viktor said flatly. “And you’re asking me why that humiliates me?”

He pulled away from Jayce’s chest to squint up at him, and he found Jayce just looking down at him with that same, calm expression. The one that told him nothing was wrong, nothing was out of place, and yet how could it be? How could things possibly be normal after what he’d just witnessed?

“The hitting frightened me a little, I’ll admit.” Jayce said tentatively, reaching for Viktor’s hands. The sides were beginning to bruise already, dark smudges blooming over pale skin. His touch was gentle as he traced Viktor’s knuckles with his thumb. “When I heard the noises you were making, I figured you were going through some kind of meltdown year, but I didn’t expect you to…to hurt yourself like that.”

Viktor looked down sharply, shame burning in his throat. His fingers twitched in Jayce’s grip, like he wanted to yank them away, but Jayce held steady—just enough pressure to remind him he wasn’t alone, that he was still here.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself, Vik.” Jayce said softly, concern etched into his expression. “You’re already in so much pain, I don’t want you to be in any more. It scared me because I was worried you were going to seriously injure yourself.”

Viktor exhaled through his nose, shifting his weight. His shoulders curled inward, tight, like a wire wound too sharp. “My head hurts, that’s about it. I’m okay.” 

“ Are you okay?” Jayce asked. “Really okay?”

Viktor didn’t answer for a while. His jaw worked, like he was trying to force words out that wouldn’t come.

“...we’re going to be late.”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” Jayce murmured. “What matters is you. I want to make sure that you’re over it now.”

“I’m not going to punch myself the moment you step away, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Viktor flexed his fingers gently, wincing as the bruises throbbed. “It’s not a…conscious decision, you understand. I don’t want to hit myself. It’s a temporary compulsion, when I’m overwhelmed I can’t—adrenalin just takes over, and it happens before I can even really think about it.”

“Does it help?” Jayce asked. He sounded skeptical, but not judgemental. 

Viktor let out a slow breath, considering his answer. “Yes, it helps me release the pressure. But I know it’s not healthy,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “It’s just in those moments I…I don’t know, I’m not able to think rationally and it just takes over. Never last long though, three or four hits and I’m able to calm myself down. Just leaves me with a headache usually.”

Jayce frowned, still rubbing light circles over Viktor’s knuckles. “Have you always done that? I’d be worried about causing brain damage.” 

Viktor gave a small, humorless laugh. “Mm, yeah my parents were worried about that too. I get routine scans, no damage as of yet. It’s not frequent enough f or that.” 

Jayce exhaled through his nose, something tight and uneasy in the way his grip shifted on Viktor’s hands. His thumb traced over Viktor’s knuckles again, slow and deliberate, before squeezing gently.

“But yeah,” Viktor continued, his voice quieter, gaze flicking downward. “I’ve always done it. Actually, it’s gotten a lot better. As a kid I’d… bite myself, draw blood. Rip my hair out. Scratch myself.” His fingers twitched in Jayce’s grip again, his whole body going tense, like he regretted saying it as soon as the words left his mouth. “The hitting back then was much harder, and lasted longer.”

Jayce’s breath hitched, just slightly. He squeezed Viktor’s hands again—not tight, not desperate, just enough to remind him he was listening. There was something unreadable in his expression, something aching behind his eyes. He lifted Viktor’s hands, pressing his lips gently to one bruised knuckle.

“I wish I could have been there,” Jayce murmured. “Back then. I wish I could have stopped you from going through that alone.”

Viktor swallowed, hard, looking away. “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Jayce said. “But I still wish.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Jayce just held onto Viktor’s hands, grounding him. Steady, unwavering. Here.

“We don’t have to go to the party, if you’re not feeling well enough.”

Guilt swam in his stomach, flipping around uncomfortably. “Jayce, it’s your sister’s birthday, I can’t make you miss that.”

Jayce gave him a look—one of those warm, steady, infuriatingly understanding looks that made Viktor’s chest tighten and his stomach churn.

“You’re not making me do anything,” Jayce said simply. “I’d rather be here with you than have you force yourself through something that’s just gonna make you miserable.”

Viktor let out a shaky breath. He didn’t want to be miserable. He didn’t want to miss the party, to disappoint Jayce, to ruin the evening over something as trivial as this.

But the thought of trying to pull himself together, of enduring the noise, the people, the sensory onslaught of it all when he already felt raw and exposed—it made his skin crawl.

His lips pressed into a thin line. “I should go.”

Jayce sighed, but there was no frustration in it, just patience. “Why?”

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” Viktor muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Because I shouldn’t let something so—so stupid stop me.”

Jayce frowned. “Viktor—”

“I lost my mind over my shirt , Jayce.” His voice cracked, his frustration turning inward, cutting like glass. “Do you know how—how pathetic that is?”

Jayce’s grip on his shoulder tightened just a fraction, grounding but firm. “It’s not pathetic.”

Viktor let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Then what would you call it?”

Jayce didn’t hesitate. “I’d call it autism, Viktor. Your brain hit a limit and it reacted the only way it knows how to.” His gaze was unwavering, as if daring Viktor to argue. “Same way your leg gives out when you push it too hard, yeah? You wouldn’t call that pathetic, would you? Why is your brain any different?”

Viktor swallowed hard. He wanted to argue. He wanted to push back, to insist it wasn’t the same, that this was different, that he should be different. But the words caught in his throat, tangled up in exhaustion and the last dregs of adrenaline.

“It’s not normal—”

“Yeah it’s almost like you have a disorder.” Jayce cut in. “Crazy how that works, isn’t it? The brain acting in a disordered way when you have a neurological disorder, who would have thought?” 

Viktor looked away, his face hot—not from rage this time, but something quieter, heavier. Guilt, shame, relief, exhaustion, all mixing into something thick and difficult to untangle. But there was an undeniable truth to Jayce’s words, of course. 

“…She’ll be disappointed,” he muttered.

Jayce smiled, small and understanding. “I’ll tell her you weren’t feeling well. She’ll understand.”

Viktor hesitated. The guilt still sat in his stomach, twisting uncomfortably, but the idea of staying—of not forcing himself through the evening, of letting himself breathe —was tempting.

“No, Jayce.” he said softly. “I want to go.”

“Vik, you don’t have to—”

“I want to. I want to meet your family, your friends. I just…need a minute.” Viktor sighed, trying to pull himself together.

Jayce nodded, accepting Viktor to know his limits. “What can I do to help, to make it easier?”

Viktor dragged a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. His skin still felt a little too hot, too tight, but the worst of the storm had passed, leaving behind exhaustion and frayed nerves. He wanted to go. He wanted to try . But he needed to do it on his terms.

“…Can you grab me a different shirt?” he mumbled. “Something softer. And—no buttons.” He shuddered at the thought. “No belt either, if I can help it.”

Jayce nodded immediately. “Of course.” He moved toward the closet, already rifling through for something better. “What about the vest you like? That gray one? No buttons, just a slip-on.”

Viktor considered it, then gave a small nod. “That’ll work.”

Jayce pulled it out, setting it beside him. “What else?”

Viktor hesitated, gnawing at the inside of his cheek. His body still hummed with lingering tension, an unpleasant static in his bones, but if he could get his temperature down, if he could make himself comfortable —

“…Cold water. And pressure for my hands,” he admitted. “They still feel—” He gestured vaguely, fingers curling and uncurling restlessly.

Jayce understood immediately. He disappeared into the bathroom and returned a moment later with a glass of water, pressing it gently into Viktor’s hands. Viktor clutched it tightly, the coolness soothing against his overheated skin. He handed over Viktor’s pressure gloves and Viktor sighed in relief as they fit over his fingers, squeezing in a way that was grounding instead of overwhelming.

Jayce crouched in front of him, his eyes warm but steady. “Do you need more time? We can leave a little later.”

Viktor swallowed. His body still ached from the aftermath, but the worst of the shame had settled into something more manageable. He could do this.

“…Ten minutes,” he murmured. “Then we go.”

Jayce grinned, squeezing his knee lightly before standing. “Deal.”

In the end, Jayce had him sitting on the edge of the bath as he helped style his hair. Jayce gave him a little toy to play with while he worked—a little basketball game, filled with water and tiny basketballs. 

Viktor turned the small plastic toy over in his hands, pressing the button and watching as the tiny basketballs floated aimlessly in the water-filled chamber. He tilted it slightly, sending them drifting toward the little hoop inside, then jabbed the button again, forcing a jet of air to launch one upward. It missed. He huffed through his nose and tried again, distractedly fidgeting as Jayce ran careful fingers through his hair.

It was a silly thing, probably something meant for kids, but the rhythmic button-pressing and the slow, weightless drift of the tiny balls through the water kept his hands busy, gave him something to focus on that wasn’t the unfamiliar feeling of someone else fixing his hair.

It wasn’t as gruelling as a visit to a barber or hairdresser was, Jayce was slow and quiet with his movements, spraying Viktor’s hair with something t lease the frizz and applying a light layer of curl cream, scrunching up the ends of his hair gently with his fingers. He combed his bangs to the side to let his forehead breathe and to keep his hair out of his eyes. 

Jayce was singing that song again.

Viktor glanced up from his game, the melody settling over him like a familiar warmth. “What are you singing?” he asked, voice quiet but curious. “It’s nice—I like it.”

Now that he was in looser clothes, his hair finally tamed, and his hands occupied, Viktor felt better. Calmer. He could actually listen to the words this time, committing the sounds to memory.

“It’s from Encanto ,” Jayce said. “ Dos Oruguitas . It’s kind of a sad song.”

Viktor frowned slightly. “The one with the magic house? The family with powers?”

Jayce grinned. “Yeah, that’s the one. Cait loved it. Vi took her to see it on a date, and they ended up watching it, like, five times.” He laughed. “Don’t tell her I told you, but Vi cried. She’s got a soft spot for Luisa.”

Viktor huffed a quiet laugh. “We should watch it sometime.”

Jayce’s smile softened. “Yeah, we should.”

Viktor leaned back slightly. “Why is the song sad? It sounds pretty.”

Jayce’s voice grew quieter, almost thoughtful. “It’s about two caterpillars in love who have to let go of each other, even though they don’t want to. It’s a metaphor for Pedro and Alma in the movie—Pedro dies, and Alma has to go on without him, raise their kids alone. The song talks about how they can’t hold on too tightly. They have to let go and grow apart if they ever want to come back together again as butterflies.”

Viktor made a small sound of protest. “I hate when sad songs sound so beautiful. That’s heartbreaking.”

Jayce chuckled softly. “Yeah. But it’s hopeful too, in a way. Caterpillars don’t stay apart forever. Maybe they lose each other for a while, but in another life, as butterflies, they can find each other again.”

Viktor glanced at him, something fond in his gaze. “That’s just like you—to find the good in everything.” He shook his head, smiling. “I like that about you.”

“My dad was like that. He said there’s always a silver lining, you just have to find it.” 

“Mm. Well, my silver lining is I like your voice.” Viktor hummed. “I like hearing you speak Spanish, it sounds really nice in your voice. I don’t understand the words so I can just pretend it’s not devastating.” 

Jayce chuckled. He went back to singing, and Viktor sighed. The sounds of Spanish were becoming more comforting to him these days, especially in Jayce’s voice. He was a good singer too. Viktor wondered if he could convince him to record this song for him—would that be too weird?

“You’re getting good at that.” Jayce commented, watching Viktor get another basketball through the little hoop.

He huffed softly, a wry smile curling his lips. He knew Jayce wasn’t condescending to him, and yet the situation was just a tad absurd to him.

“Where did you even find this thing?” he asked.

“Think I won it at a fair game as a kid. Ma would bring it when we had to see a doctor or something, you know to keep me still and quiet.” Jayce said. “I bring it everywhere nowadays, just in case I need to fidget. Figured it might help you too.”

That’s right, Jayce had ADHD. It was easy to forget somehow, Viktor didn’t see his behaviours as anything out of the ordinary, but then again he was hardly reliable to recognise what was considered normal or not.

“You can keep it, if you like.” 

Viktor’s fingers hesitated for a moment as he looked down at the toy, the soft water swishing around the tiny basketballs. He felt a strange sort of warmth at the offer. The small, almost childlike gesture seemed so… thoughtful. He’d been so caught up in his own tangled thoughts, in the weight of the day, and this was a simple, grounding thing, a way to occupy his hands and his mind in a way that felt unexpectedly reassuring.

He looked up at Jayce, who was watching him with that open, gentle smile, and for a moment, Viktor felt his chest unclench just a little. 

He wished they’d been friends as children. They would have been the very best of friends. He had always needed someone like Jayce in his life.

“Thanks,” he said quietly, his voice a little rough from the emotions that had still been stirring beneath the surface.

He could picture Jayce as a child, running up to Viktor in his hospital bed with a huge smile, presenting him with the toy like a trophy. He would have been such an adorable child, Viktor just knew. Viktor bet Jayce shared his toys with everyone, he probably said ‘hello’ way too loud and greeted everyone walking by. He’d be that kid that made sure everyone got a fair share of everything and that no one was excluded from games. 

He was like sunshine. Warm, revitiliasing.  

“Okay, think we’re ready to go?” 

Viktor took a moment to take stock of himself. His hair was finally under control, his clothes were loose enough that they weren’t annoying him but weren’t overly casual, he was no longer too hot. He was a little tired, little sore, but that was par for the course for Viktor. So, all in all, he was doing fine. 

He nodded. “Yes, sluníčko. I think I’m ready.” 

Jayce grinned, his cheeks turning a little pink at the new nickname. “What’s that one mean?”

Viktor hummed, a smile playing on his lips. “Mm, it’s a secret.”

“A secret?” Jayce whined, helping Viktor to his feet. “That’s not fair.”

“You still haven’t told me what querido means.” 

If anything, Jayce just went pinker at that. “Well—that’s because…that’s because.”

“Mmhm well, until I know what that word means, the meaning of sluníčko is staying with me.” Viktor teased. “Now let’s go, so I have time to formulate an appropriate apology for us being late.” 

“¡Mamá! ¡Hermana!”

Viktor shuffled in awkwardly behind Jayce as he strode confidently into the garden, his voice carrying over the chatter and the rhythmic strumming of a guitar from somewhere near the patio. The air was thick with the scent of carne asada sizzling on the grill, mixed with fresh cilantro and warm tortillas. Laughter rang out from a cluster of family members crowded around a table piled high with food, plates being passed between hands, half-finished conversations overlapping in rapid Spanish.

Viktor hesitated at the threshold, gripping his cane a little tighter. This was... a lot.

Before he could rethink every life decision that had led him here, a petite woman in a deep red dress turned toward them, her face lighting up. Ximena Talis.

“Mi hijo!” she exclaimed, wiping her hands on a dishtowel before pulling Jayce into a tight hug. “You’re late!”

“Barely!” Jayce protested, muffled against her shoulder.

“You said you’d help with the drinks, and now everything’s already done,” Caitlyn drawled from where she leaned against the outdoor bar, arms crossed.

Jayce pulled away from his mother, grinning. “That just means I planned it perfectly.”

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, then turned her gaze on Viktor. “So this is the Viktor?” she said, arching a curious brow. “Hi, I’m Cait.”

Viktor wiggled his fingers in a little wave. “Hello.”

Jayce threw an arm around Viktor’s shoulders like it would somehow make the moment less overwhelming. “The one, the only, the most brilliant man I know.”

Viktor cleared his throat, adjusting his cane. “That is not accurate. I know at least three more brilliant men.”

Caitlyn’s lips twitched, but before she could respond, Ximena stepped in, tilting her head slightly as she studied Viktor. There was no malice in her gaze, only curiosity and warmth that mirrored Jayce’s, but he still felt like he was on trial for something.

“Bienvenido, Viktor,” she said at last, her voice softer than before. “Jayce talks about you all the time.”

Viktor shot Jayce a sidelong glance. “I am not sure if that is reassuring.”

“Don’t worry, it’s mostly good things,” Caitlyn said. “Mostly.”

From the other side of the garden, a voice rang out, cutting through the lively hum of conversation. “So this is the famous Viktor, huh?”

Jayce turned just in time to see Vi approaching, a bottle of beer in one hand and a mischievous glint in her eye. 

“V, this is Vi—Cait’s girl.”

She was dressed casually—ripped jeans, a tank top, a red bandana keeping her hair back—but there was something about the way she walked, easy and confident, that made it clear she was at home here. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” Vi held out her fist, and Viktor responded a little slower, but she grinned as he offered up his knuckles for her a fist bump. “Big guy here doesn’t shut up about you, glad he finally dragged you around.”

Next to her, Ekko trailed behind, hands in his pockets, grinning like he already knew this was about to be entertaining.

He stopped in front of Viktor, giving him a once-over. “Name’s Ekko. Huh,” he said. “Thought you’d be taller.”

“Yeah well spine deformities will do that to a guy.” Viktor exhaled slowly. “I will work on it,” he deadpanned.

Ekko laughed, slapping Vi’s arm. “Damn, I like him already.”

Vi smirked, then jerked her chin toward the table. “Come on, Talis. If you’re not gonna help cook, you can at least make yourself useful and break out the cerveza.”

Jayce groaned but went without complaint, dragging Viktor with him. As they wove through the garden, people greeted Jayce with slaps on the back, calls of mijo, cabrón, wey —a chorus of affectionate teasing that Viktor was entirely unused to. Plates clattered, someone turned up the music, and a group of kids tore past, shrieking with laughter as they chased each other across the lawn.

It was too loud, too chaotic—too much . But it was also warm, welcoming in a way Viktor had never really experienced before. His family in comparison were much, much quieter.

Jayce nudged him with his elbow. “You okay?”

Viktor adjusted his grip on his cane and let out a breath. “I am deciding.”

“Yeah, we can be…a lot.” Jayce rubbed the back of his neck. “I didn’t realise so many of the family were coming. It gets too much, tell me. We can go inside for quiet, okay?”

Viktor took a deep breath, nodding. “Sure, Jayce. I’ll be okay.” 

Before he could push, Vi suddenly appeared at Viktor’s side, clapping a firm but not-too-hard hand on his back. “Yeah, yeah, we all say that before we realize just how loud these parties get. Come on, you can sit with me and Ekko—we’ll keep the aunties off you.”

Ekko grinned. “For a little while, anyway.”

Jayce relaxed a little. The moment wasn’t perfect—Viktor was still on edge, still fighting to keep himself together—but at least he wasn’t doing it alone.

He caught the way his fingers still twitched, the way his gaze flickered around like he was cataloging exits, but when Ekko cracked a joke and Vi nudged a bottle into his hand, something in Viktor’s posture eased—just a little.

Jayce felt safe enough to leave Viktor in the care of his friends and weaved his way through relatives to get to his mother. 

“Ma, you didn’t say the whole family was coming.” Jayce hissed, glancing back at Viktor.

His friend stood stiffly beside Ekko, gripping his cane a little too tightly, downing the beer Ekko had given hi m like he trying to expedite the loosening up process. The noise, the people, the overlapping voices—it was all a lot. And Jayce knew why it was a lot.

Ximena wiped her hands on her apron, passing another plate piled high with food to a passing cousin, arching a brow. “It’s a birthday party, mijo, not a business lunch. Of course everyone’s here.”

Jayce opened his mouth, hesitating. “Ma, I told you Viktor was autistic, didn’t I? ¿El ruido, el calor, los extraños? No es bueno para él, mamá. You promised not to go overboard and invite all the cousins in the state.”

Ximena gave him a look, one hand on her hip. “Ay, mijo, this is me not going overboard.” She gestured broadly at the crowd. “No es una boda, es una fiesta.”  

“Ma, there’s, like, thirty people here!” Jayce hissed, lowering his voice as another cousin passed by.   

Ximena sighed. “Pues sí, but it’s all family, all people who love us. ¿Qué quieres que haga, no invitar a tu tía Sofía? Se hubiera muerto del coraje.”

“Ma, tía Sofía would have survived without an invitation.” Jayce groaned. “And so would have cousin Carmalita, Yvette, André and Diego. And is that—ma did you really invite tío Matteo and tía Ana? All the way from Mexico City? Ma!” 

If his uncle Matteo and aunt Ana were here, that means they brought their children since it was such a long trip. Which meant his baby cousins were running around here somewhere, because children were exactly what Viktor needed to be around right now.

Ximena laughed, the sound a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Ay, Jayce, you know how your tía Ana is. She would’ve taken it personally if I hadn’t invited her. And don’t pretend you don’t like seeing them. You’re just grumpy because you know they’ll all be running around and asking you to play with them.”

Jayce grimaced, rubbing his forehead as if he could ward off the mental image of his overly energetic baby cousins. “I swear, they’re worse than gremlins. They think I’m a jungle gym. But that’s not the point ma, the point is I told Viktor it was just going to be us, he wasn’t prepared for the entirety of Mexico to be here.”

“Ay mijo don’t exaggerate—”

Caitlyn, ears picking up the barely contained whispering, frowned, and approached Jayce’s side. “Wait—Viktor might not feel well here?” 

Jayce ran a hand down his face. “It’s not that Cait. It’s just—too much can be overwhelming for him, and you know how loud our family gets.” He turned back to his mother. “Mamá, no quiero que se sienta mal. No quiero que sienta que tiene que quedarse si no puede.”  

Ximena’s sharp expression softened slightly as she took another look at Viktor. He wasn’t complaining, but she noticed the way his fingers twitched at his side, the way his eyes flickered between groups of people, calculating the safest place to stand.  

Caitlyn cut in smoothly. “Ma, maybe we can set Viktor up somewhere quieter?”

She sighed. “Está bien, mi amor.” Her voice softened. “Si necesita un lugar más tranquilo, que me lo diga. Hay sombra por la fuente. O en la cocina, si necesita alejarse un ratito.”  

Jayce let out a slow breath, nodding. “Gracias, ma.”  

Ximena reached up, cupping his cheek with a fond smile. “Ay, Jaycito, you worry too much. Tu novio es fuerte.”  

Jayce sputtered, “¡No es mi novio!”  

“No?” Ximena frowned. It was clear she didn’t believe his denial in the slightest. 

Jayce’s face turned a shade of red that nearly matched the vibrant salsa on the table. “I—I mean, he’s not! We’re—” He glanced over at Viktor, who seemed to have already finished his drink and was wandering through the crowd towards them. He was looking more relaxed now but still visibly trying to make sense of conversation as different cousins walked with him. Jayce quickly turned his focus back to his mother, practically stammering. “He’s just—he’s just Viktor!”

“That’s not what Rosa told me.” Ximena said. 

“What did Rosa tell you ma?” Cait asked, a slow smirk spreading on her face as she looked between Ximena and Jayce. “Hermano, you been keeping something from me?”

Jayce’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t factored on Rosa talking about what had happened at the cafe to his mother. He should have known, they met for coffee every week. Of course she would have told her all about it. 

“Ma, it’s not what you think.” He tried to say, but froze when he saw Viktor side up to him from the corner of his eye. 

“What isn’t?” he asked, looking at Jayce curiously.

“Oh, mijo, I was just telling Jayce about what Rosa told me. About your little coffee date.” Ximena said. 

Jayce spluttered at the word ‘date’, and Viktor’s eyebrows rose into his hairline, looking just as surprised as Jayce felt. 

“Tell us ma, I haven’t heard the story.” Caitlyn grinned, clearly enjoying his misery. “Jayce neglected to tell me about it.” 

“Ay she put it so romantically!” Ximena sighed dramatically. “She told me that Isaac boy was bothering you—really mijo, you should have told me that he’d cheated on you, I would have had words with his mother—and Viktor swooped in to tell him off like a perro guardián.”

“A what?” Viktor frowned. 

“Guard dog.” Jayce translated in an embarrassed wheeze. 

Viktor’s eyebrows rose even higher, if that were possible. 

“It reminds me of when your father and I were young.” Ximena sighed, smiling. “He was a protective boyfriend too.”

“Ma, we’re not—Viktor’s not—” Jayce went pale, not daring to look at Viktor as he tried to correct her again. 

To his surprise though, Viktor cut him off. “No, I am quite protective of Jayce, that’s true. I don’t like people like that around my boyfriend.”

Jayce froze, his breath catching in his throat. Viktor had said it —and not only that, but he'd said it with a confidence that made Jayce’s chest feel tight. Viktor didn’t seem flustered or anything. He just agreed —almost casually, as though it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ximena looked delighted, clapping her hands together. “Ay, qué lindo , mijo! You two really do have something special.” She glanced at Jayce, whose mind was racing. “It’s nice to see you standing up for him like that, Viktor.”

Jayce wanted to sink into the floor. His heart was pounding so loudly in his ears that he could barely hear the conversation happening around him. Viktor had said the words, had put it out there, and now it felt like everyone was watching him, waiting for him to respond.

But what was there to say? Viktor had just made it clear that he was okay with everyone believing they were a couple—more than okay with it, actually, he was acting like it was no big deal at all.

Jayce opened his mouth to correct everything once more, but his voice failed him. He wasn’t sure if he was embarrassed, flattered, or confused. Maybe a little bit of everything.

“I’m gonna go take Viktor to get some food,” he stammered, any excuse to get out of this situation immediately. 

Finding a place in the garden that wasn’t occupied by his family was difficult, so he focused on getting Viktor a plate and piling it with food. Jayce's eyes darted around, searching for an escape from the tension, but the gentle rustling of the garden and the soft clink of cutlery anchored him to the moment. He forced a shaky laugh as he set down a plate loaded with food.

"Vik, why did you do that?" he asked, his voice strained. "Why did you agree with my ma and not correct her?"

Viktor winced, glancing away for a moment before meeting Jayce’s gaze. "I don’t know," he admitted. "I just… panicked? I compulsively lie when I’m stressed. And I didn’t want you to feel embarrassed or awkward having to correct your mother."

For a long moment, Jayce stared at Viktor, a mix of relief and confusion swirling inside him. The familiar garden sounds seemed muted as his mind raced. "I—" he began, then paused, trying to find the right words. “You lie when stressed?”

"I know it sounds messy," Viktor continued quietly, "but I just didn't want to add any more stress to the situation. It happens a lot, like if people are talking about a movie I’ve never seen and then ask me if I’ve seen it, I just automatically lie and say yes. Or if people are talking about someone I’ve never heard of I just laugh when everyone else does and pretend I understand the jokes. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to it’s just…”

“Something you do to fit in?”

“Chameleon mode, yeah.” Viktor hummed. “Doesn’t always work. Usually I don’t drag someone else into it though, I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Jayce sighed and ran a hand through his hair, the warmth from Viktor's confession stirring something deep inside him. "It’s just... confusing, Vik," he murmured. "It was one thing to go along with it with Isaac, but with my family…I dunno V, it made me feel—well, something. And now I don’t even know what I’m supposed to think."

Viktor stepped closer, his tone softening with genuine concern. "I care about you, Jayce. I care about you a lot, and I never meant to make things confusing. I just... wanted to avoid a scene in front of everyone.”

“Right,” Jayce sighed, shaking his head. “Okay. It’s okay, you’re just trying to help me out.” He let out a nervous laugh, trying to break the lingering tension.

The silence between them stretched for a moment, both of them still feeling the weight of the conversation, but Jayce wasn’t going to let it hang there any longer. He straightened up, pushing aside the awkwardness in favor of something familiar and comfortable. 

“So,” he said with forced enthusiasm, picking up the plate he had prepared for Viktor, “let me tell you about this stuff before you try it. So you don’t think it's just... a pile of random, weird things.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but still a little hesitant, his fingers lingering near the edge of the plate. “Alright,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Educate me, Jayce.”

Jayce pointed to a small pile of what looked like tortillas with a bright orange filling. “These are qu esadillas. It’s basically cheese melted inside a tortilla. It’s simple, but it’s good. And then—" he moved to another item, "this is mole. It’s a rich, thick sauce made with chocolate and chilies, and it’s poured over chicken. It’s spicy, but also a little sweet."

He kept going, detailing each dish with growing excitement, grateful for the distraction. The tension between them hadn’t vanished entirely, but the warmth of the conversation about food gave Jayce something to focus on. “Oh, and you’ve gotta try the tamales, but they’re not ready yet,” he added, with a shrug. “My mom’s making those fresh. You’ll love them.”

Viktor chuckled softly, clearly enjoying Jayce’s explanation, but there was still a quiet edge to his voice. "Sounds like a lot."

“Trust me, you’ll be fine.” Jayce smiled, his nerves easing a little as he saw Viktor's curiosity spark. "You’ve got a strong stomach, right?"

“I hope so," Viktor replied with a half-smile. 

Jayce couldn’t help but chuckle, his nerves melting away just a bit more. "We like our food a bit more... intense. If it’s not spicy, there’s no point."

Viktor took the first bite of quesadilla, pausing as the flavors hit. “Not bad,” he admitted, a slight surprise in his voice. “It’s good.”

Jayce grinned, more relaxed now that Viktor was engaging with the food. "Told you."

As the evening stretched on, the noise and energy of the party were beginning to take their toll on Viktor. Jayce could see the subtle shift in his posture—the way Viktor’s shoulders tightened, the way his eyes darted around, looking for an escape from the constant chatter, the loud laughter, the hustle of the crowded garden.

Jayce knew Viktor well enough to know that he wouldn’t say anything to communicate his discomfort. So when Viktor subtly stepped away from the group of cousins, Jayce quickly fell in step beside him.

“You good?” Jayce asked quietly, giving Viktor a glance that conveyed more than just the words.

Viktor’s gaze flicked to Jayce, then quickly away, his eyes searching for something to focus on. “Yeah, just… too much noise. A little too much energy,” he murmured, his voice tinged with the slightest trace of stress. “I need a moment to—”

Jayce nodded, cutting him off. “Come on, we’ll go inside. Kitchen should be free by now.”

Without waiting for a response, Jayce gently led him through the garden, away from the crowd and out into the kitchen. It was quieter in here, the din from the party outside dulled to a subtle roar through the glass windows. Jayce closed the door to the outside to muffle the sound further.

“You okay now?” Jayce asked, his voice quieter than before. He felt a little nervous, though he wasn’t sure why.

Viktor took a long moment before responding, and when he did, his voice was just as low. “I’m fine.”

Jayce nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t warn you, I didn’t know ma was inviting half the family over.”

Viktor chuckled softly, and for a second, Jayce thought he saw something else in the flicker of his expression—something almost… tender. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I don’t mind them,” Viktor said. “They’re good people. It’s just… everything else. It makes my head spin sometimes.”

Jayce smiled. “Yeah, me too. But hey, at least you’re surviving the evening.” 

Viktor hummed softly, watching the party outside from the gap in the kitchen curtains. His fingers idly traced patterns on the counter as his eyes followed Vi, who was laughing at something Caitlyn had said.

“Your friend Vi… where is she from?” he asked.

Jayce, who was halfway through refilling his drink, frowned at the question. “Vi? From Mexico. Why?”

Viktor didn’t answer right away. His gaze lingered on Vi, his expression pensive. Now that Jayce thought about it, Viktor had been watching her strangely all night.

“She looks familiar,” Viktor murmured, still studying her.

Jayce raised an eyebrow. “Familiar how?”

Viktor hesitated. “She reminds me of my sister.”

That threw Jayce for a loop. “Jinx?” he asked, setting his drink down. “Really?”

Viktor finally turned to face him, nodding. “It’s not exact, but… something about her. Her face, maybe? The shape of her eyes? The way she carries herself.” He huffed out a small laugh. “It’s odd. I know it’s just a coincidence, but for a second, I thought—” He trailed off, shaking his head. “Never mind.”

Jayce studied Vi for a moment, then looked back at Viktor. “Huh. I guess I can kind of see it? But Vi’s got that whole tough-as-nails, no-nonsense vibe, and from what you’ve told me, Jinx is more…” He waved a hand vaguely. “You know, chaos personified.”

Viktor snorted. “That is an understatement.”

Jayce grinned. “Well, don’t overthink it. I think it’s just one of those weird things. You know, like how everyone has a doppelgänger somewhere in the world.”

Viktor exhaled through his nose, amused. “Maybe.”

Jayce nudged him. “Speaking of Vi, you wanna hear a hilarious story about her from high school?”

Viktor arched an eyebrow, lips curling in mild curiosity. “Oh? Do tell.”

Jayce leaned in conspiratorially, like he was about to share a great secret. “Okay, so picture this—we’re seventeen, right? Vi’s got this huge grudge against this one chemistry teacher, Dr. Morales. The guy had it out for her hard —kept calling her ‘disruptive’ and saying she wasn’t taking the class seriously, which, I mean… fair. She did once turn a Bunsen burner into a makeshift flamethrower.”

Viktor pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course she did.”

Jayce grinned. “So one day, Vi decides she’s gonna get back at him. She somehow— somehow —manages to replace all the chalk in his classroom with sticks of compressed sugar.”

Viktor blinked. “Sugar?”

“Yeah! Looked just like chalk, felt just like chalk. But the second he tried to write on the board? Bam. Snapped right in half. Every. Single. Piece.”

Viktor chuckled. “That is stupidly brilliant.”

“Oh, it gets better,” Jayce said, eyes gleaming with mischief. “He lost his mind. Started yelling about sabotage, accusing students left and right, and then, in this absolute fit of rage, he grabs a stick, bites it to ‘prove a point’—” Jayce paused for dramatic effect. “And then just slowly realizes he’s eating pure sugar.”

Viktor let out a surprised laugh. “No—”

“Oh yeah.” Jayce was grinning now. “Vi booked it out of there so fast. He was too stunned to even chase her.”

Viktor shook his head, still laughing. “I am torn between being impressed and horrified.”

“That’s the Vi experience,” Jayce said with a smirk. “Honestly, you two would probably get along.”

Viktor was still chuckling, shaking his head. “I have no doubt that Vi was a menace in school.”

“Oh, was ? She still is,” Jayce said with a grin.

Their laughter eventually faded into something softer, leaving only the low hum of the party outside and the occasional clink of dishes in the sink. The room suddenly felt smaller, warmer, the glow from the overhead lights casting a gentle halo over them.

Jayce turned back toward the counter, absently swirling his drink in his hand. “You know,” he said after a pause, “I think you’d like my friends. I mean, you already do. But if things were different—if we’d met earlier—I feel like you would’ve fit right in.”

Viktor tilted his head, considering. “You think so?”

“Yeah,” Jayce said, leaning against the counter beside him. “I mean, you’re smart. You’re funny when you want to be. And you put up with me , which is basically a full-time job.” He smirked, but his voice was softer now, almost hesitant. “I dunno. Just feels like you belong here.”

Viktor blinked, something unreadable passing over his face. He looked down, fingers tracing idle circles on the countertop. “That is not something I hear often.”

Jayce frowned. “What do you mean?”

Viktor hesitated, then let out a quiet breath. “I am used to being… apart. From things. People. It is easier that way, sometimes.” He glanced at Jayce, his gaze steady. “But with you, I do not feel so apart. I fit with you.”

Jayce’s breath caught in his throat. The way Viktor said it—so simply, so honestly—it made something in his chest tighten.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them shifted, thick with tension. Jayce swallowed, suddenly very aware of how close they were. How the warm glow of the kitchen lights softened the sharp edges of Viktor’s face. How the barest tilt forward would close the small space between them.

Viktor's eyes lingered on him, as though trying to settle on something he couldn’t quite put into words. “I didn’t thank you properly, for helping me get ready,” he continued, his voice low, almost vulnerable in its sincerity. “And for helping me deal with… everything. I’ve never met someone like you before, Jayce. You’re always so…”

Jayce felt the weight of Viktor’s gaze, his words hanging in the air like a fragile thing waiting to be revealed. “So…?”

Viktor paused, a thoughtful hum escaping him as he searched for the right words. Then, with a small exhale, he murmured, “Jsi jako anděl.” he said, his voice carrying a quiet amusement.

Jayce’s brows furrowed, his mind racing to piece together the foreign words. “Hope that’s something good,” he replied with a nervous laugh.

Viktor chuckled, a sound that felt like it came from the depths of his chest, rich and comforting. “It’s good, sluníčko.” 

The way he said it—soft, familiar—sent something skittering down Jayce’s spine. A warmth curled in his chest, catching him off guard.

A beat of silence passed, the space between them narrowing in ways Jayce wasn’t sure how to name. Viktor was looking at him like he was studying something precious, something delicate. It made Jayce’s breath catch.

"You asked me, before,” Viktor’s voice pulled Jayce back to the present, soft but firm. “What sluníčko means. I wasn’t going to tell you, but I think I should.”

Jayce’s breath hitched. His chest constricted as his heart began to race, each beat thundering in his ears, and for a moment, the room seemed to blur around him. What could it mean?

Viktor’s voice was a whisper now, almost reverent, his words hanging between them with the weight of something unspoken. “It means little sun.”

Jayce stilled. The words settled in his chest, unfolding slow and steady, like warmth spreading through his ribs. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to breathe past the weight of something so simple, so devastatingly tender.

Viktor’s gaze didn’t waver. “You… you’re like the sun, Jayce.” Viktor’s voice carried the barest tremor. “You’re so bright, so warm you—you give me life .”

The world around Jayce seemed to stop. His chest felt tight, his mind a whirlwind. It would be so easy, he thought, to close the distance, to press into the warmth of Viktor’s presence, to follow the pull between them. His breath felt too shallow, his skin too aware of the space that was shrinking, inch by inch.

Their lips were so close, so close, he could almost taste the air between them. It would be so easy to tilt his head down, close the gap—kiss him.

His thoughts scattered. The warmth of Viktor’s presence, his scent, the intimacy of the moment—it felt like everything was leading to this.

And then, Viktor’s lips brushed up against his, just barely. Viktor had risen onto his toes to reach him—cute, he thought distantly—he tasted of beer and vanilla chapstick, and Jayce was instantly addicted. The breath left Jayce’s lungs, and he shifted forward, leaned in on instinct, seeking more of the warmth, the taste of Viktor— 

But then, like a cold slap, Viktor’s words echoed in Jayce’s mind, slicing through the heat of the moment with brutal clarity: I wanted you to like me, more than I’ve wanted anything in a long time. I wanted so badly to be your friend. I was scared of fucking it up.

Jayce froze, the breath in his lungs caught, a sharp ache piercing through him. His stomach twisted painfully, the guilt crashing over him like a tidal wave. His heart sank, and with it, everything inside him felt wrong. Viktor had just wanted a friend, Jayce reminded himself. He’d wanted someone to trust, someone to rely on, someone who didn’t complicate things with… this.

He pulled back abruptly, almost stumbling as he jerked his head away, the distance between them suddenly feeling vast. The warmth between them vanished, replaced by something colder, heavier. He forced himself to take a step back, then another, each one feeling worse than the last.

The air felt thick, suffocating. His chest heaved as he fought to regain his breath, to steady his racing heart.

What the hell was he doing? He couldn’t do this. Not like this. Not when Viktor had already made it clear how much their friendship meant to him. Jayce couldn’t betray that, couldn’t risk ruining what they had, especially when Viktor had made it clear how fragile that was for him. It wasn’t fair to Viktor, hewould never take advantage of him like that.

Viktor blinked at him, expression shifting—confused at first, then something else. Hurt? Disappointment? Jayce couldn’t tell, and the not-knowing made his chest squeeze even tighter.

But before he could speak, Jayce heard the sound of footsteps, and suddenly, the door creaked open.

Ximena stepped into the room, her expression bright and cheery, unaware of the fragile tension in the air. “There you two are!” she said, her voice carrying a tone of delight. “I was wondering where you went off to!”

Jayce felt his face flush instantly, and Viktor stiffened beside him. Ximena glanced between the two of them, eyes narrowing slightly, then her lips curled into a knowing smile.

Ximena’s gaze flickered between them, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. “Did I just walk in on something?” she teased, raising an eyebrow.

Jayce’s stomach twisted. The room felt stifling, his emotions tangled in a mess of guilt, confusion, and something he couldn’t name. He opened his mouth, but no words came. Viktor, just as tense, shifted back a step, suddenly creating distance between them.

“Uh—I should find Ekko,” Viktor mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. He didn’t wait for a response before slipping past Ximena, making a beeline for the door.

The moment it shut behind him, Jayce let out a heavy sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Ximena frowned, her teasing edge softening into something more concerned. “Mijo, did you two have a fight? You know they say when your boyfriend isn’t happy, you—”

Jayce groaned. “Ma, please. He’s not my boyfriend.” His voice came out sharper than he intended, frustration bubbling over. “He only said that so you wouldn’t get embarrassed. But we’re not together.”

Ximena tilted her head, unconvinced. “Oh, but you two are so close—”

“We’re not close like that,” Jayce cut in, the words spilling out before he could think. “We’re just friends. I mean, it’s Viktor , ma, I would never —”

The words hung there, cutting through the air like a blade.

I would never take advantage of him. He needs me, I can't do that to him. Jayce couldn't be that selfish as to force feelings on Viktor when he had only ever sought friendship. He didn't want to hurt him.

Outside, Viktor stilled, his back pressed against the door.

I would never…

His breath hitched. The words echoed in his head, each repetition sinking deeper, heavier. He had known better than to hope—hadn’t he? But hearing it so plainly, so final, sent a sharp ache through his chest.

The voices inside continued, devolving into Spanish spoken too fast for him to catch. But it didn’t matter. He’d already heard everything he needed to.

It’s Viktor. I would never...  

He clenched his fists, feeling the sting of the words echo through him. 

A friend. Nothing more.

It hurt more than Viktor wanted to admit. 

He wasn’t even angry, not at all. Could never be angry at Jayce. But the hurt… it was there, heavy and real. He had believed that maybe Jayce could see him differently—could want something more.

But Jayce was clear now. Viktor wasn’t even worth being looked at that way. He wasn’t worth the risk.

Maybe Jayce was just being kind to him. Maybe everything had been in his head—just a temporary fix to help him feel accepted.

He stared at the ground, taking in a few deep breaths to steady himself. The last thing he wanted was to make things awkward for Jayce. He wanted to be there for him, to support him as a friend, but hearing him say that—it twisted something inside him, a knot of pain that he wasn’t ready to confront.

Viktor quickly wiped his eyes before anyone could see, then shoved his hands into his pockets. He wasn’t about to cry over this, not here, not like this. The last thing Jayce needed was to see him break down. So, he swallowed the lump in his throat and forced himself to stand tall, walking toward the gate of the garden.

He heard the kitchen door open and close, and Jayce’s voice called after him, but Viktor couldn’t bear to turn around. Not now.

“Viktor!” Jayce’s voice was frantic, a desperate edge to it.

Viktor bit his lip, his hands shaking slightly, and kept walking.

“Viktor, hey!” Jayce caught up with him just as let himself out of the garden gate and made his way down the footpath towards the road. “V, hey, wait up. I’m sorry about ma, you know how mothers can get—”

“It’s alright, Jayce. Just a misunderstanding. Nothing to apologise for,” Viktor muttered, determinedly marching on. He couldn’t even look at Jayce right now.

“Vik?” Jayce frowned, hearing the wobble in Viktor’s voice. “Are you okay? What’s wrong? I can—”

“I want to go home.” Viktor stopped abruptly, standing in front of Jayce’s car parked in the driveway. 

Jayce let out a breath. “Yeah, okay. Okay I’ll…let me take you home. I’ll take you back home Vik.” 

Jayce opened the car door for him, but Viktor hesitated before getting in, staring at the ground like he was trying to find the right words. Whatever he was thinking, though, he kept it to himself. With a stiff nod, he slid into the passenger seat.

Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair before walking around to the driver’s side. He didn’t start the car right away. Instead, he glanced at Viktor, who was staring straight ahead, hands clasped tightly in his lap.

The silence felt different now—heavy, uncomfortable. Jayce hated it.

“Vik, did something happen?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle. “I mean, besides…”

Viktor’s jaw tensed. “I am just tired.”

Jayce frowned, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. “Look, if this is about my mom—”

“It is not about your mother.”

Jayce opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t know what to do with that.

Another long, awkward silence stretched between them before he finally started the car. The drive back was quiet, filled only with the sound of the engine and the occasional murmur of the radio. Viktor kept his gaze out the window, arms crossed, body turned slightly away from Jayce.

Every time Jayce glanced at him, he felt that awful twist of guilt in his stomach. He’d done something, he just didn’t know what.

“You don’t have to—”

Viktor cut him off, voice tight. “Please, Jayce. Just drive.”

Jayce swallowed, gripping the wheel a little harder. “Okay,” he murmured.

The rest of the ride was silent.

When they pulled up in front of Viktor’s apartment, he was already unbuckling his seatbelt before Jayce could put the car in park.

“Vik—”

“Thank you for the ride.” Viktor’s voice was clipped, polite to the point of detachment. He reached for the door handle.

“Wait—can we just talk?” Jayce blurted, leaning toward him. “I feel like I—”

“There is nothing to talk about.” Viktor finally turned to him, and in the dim glow of the streetlight, Jayce could see it—the tightness in his expression, the way his eyes shone just a little too much, like he was barely holding something back.

Viktor was about to cry .

It hit Jayce like a gut punch.

Before he could say anything else, Viktor pushed the door open and stepped out.

Jayce sat there, gripping the wheel, watching as Viktor disappeared into the building without looking back.

Viktor locked the door behind him and exhaled shakily, pressing his forehead against the wood. His heart was pounding, his throat tight.

He shouldn’t have gone tonight. He shouldn’t have let himself believe, even for a second, that things could be different.

I would never—

The words wouldn’t leave his head.

Blindly, he grabbed his headphones—forgotten earlier on the shoe rack— he tugged them over his head, letting the silence envelope him. He pulled out his phone, and scrolled through spotify until he found it.

Dos Oruguitas.

The soft guitar filled the room, warm and wistful, wrapping around him like an old memory. He sank onto the couch, burying his face in his hands as the lyrics washed over him. 

Two little caterpillars, longing for the sun, holding on too tightly to something they couldn't keep.

Viktor let out a shaky breath, then another.

By the time the chorus swelled, his shoulders were shaking.

He didn’t bother wiping his tears.