Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The catch-all bowl by the door was still the ugly blue and red piece that Caitlyn had gifted them as a housewarming present. When they opened it, almost a decade ago, the two of them had exchanged confused glances with one another, silently attempting to prompt the other into reacting first. It had been clear that neither of them knew what the hole-riddled, curved misshapen piece was supposed to be, and Viktor could not stare at it too long or chills would run down his spine. Caitlyn had taken pity on them after they had stared at one another for too long and, with an exaggerated pout, told them it was a decorative bowl. 

The bowl lived on the side table from then on, a half-hearted attempt to appease the young Kiramman and because at that point in time, it was the only thing they had that could reasonably function as a place for their keys to live. 

Viktor could scarcely believe that it was still there, as if he had never left. He still had to rip his eyes away before the shudder up his spine turned into a fall hazard. 

And just like that, the memories of how in-sync Viktor and Jayce had been, a source of playful disgust for Jayce's friends—because Caitlyn and Mel were Jayce's friends first and foremost, and not Viktor's—and the dreams of what they could have had roared back to life in his chest in a painful surge. Viktor imagined that this was what being electrocuted back to life felt like. He shoved that feeling away, burying it deep in a move that was the antithesis of who he was at his core. Hard science and cold logic dictated he should have identified a root cause for the pain, and found a corrective action to make it stop. The fragile, vulnerable underbelly of his heart, burdened by emotions, was afraid to peel back that curtain. 

If not for Jayce’s presence behind him, Viktor suspected that he would have turned around and left the same way he did four years ago. As it stood, Jayce was blocking the only exit, bar the balcony—and despite the short time he suspected he had remaining, that was not how Viktor wanted to go. 

“Welcome ho—” Viktor could hear Jayce swallowing the rest of that word. “Welcome to my apartment.” 

Those were the first words that Jayce had spoken since they left the hospital. Viktor glanced around, taking another hesitant step past the threshold. Not much had changed, the floors were still a light wood, maybe with a few more scratches from wear and tear over the past few years. The couch was a different color, but the same style as the one they had picked together—an L-shaped oversized piece, in cream instead of the dark grey Viktor favored. The change in color made the living room brighter, more spacious. 

Viktor couldn't help but wonder if they would still be together if he had capitulated on the color. The argument he had presented was that cream would dirty easily, that it was difficult to clean, that it looked out of place in their apartment. He now knows he was wrong on that last point. (A small voice in the back of his head cruelly asks if he would have even been open to admitting that when they first moved in. Viktor did not know the answer.) 

A navy quilt was slung over the back, one that was slightly faded, but familiar nonetheless. Drawn to it like a magnet, Viktor stumbled forward, muted rubber-tipped clunks from his crutch highlighting each step. He only stopped when he was close enough to touch it. 

“You kept it,” he breathed out, turning slightly so he could look at Jayce.  

“Hm?” Jayce followed Viktor into the apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. When he saw what was under Viktor's fingertips, he frowned. A twenty year old Viktor would have ruefully leaned forward and pressed lightly at Jayce to make that expression go away, before shooing away whatever the cause was. But now, at thirty… “It felt like a waste to toss it.” 

“I see.” With a strength he didn’t know he had, he pulled his hand away and looked away from Jayce, keeping his gaze on the wall, where there was a slightly darker patch of paint, perfectly rectangular, a small hole in the wall a few inches from the top line where the greens did not match up. “Thank you… for doing this. You did not need to.” 

“I would have done the same for anyone.” 

Viktor snorted. Once a politician, always a politician. “Sure, but not everyone is your ex-fiancé.” The self-inflicted punishment that he insisted on, the reminder of how close he and Jayce had been to eternal happiness, stung even more in the face of what had been their apartment for so long. 

What had been hung in that spot? 

An uncomfortable silence stretched between them, broken by the wheels of Viktor’s suitcase being dragged across the floor. “I can do that,” Viktor said, finally turning around. There was a twinge of pain in his right hip, but it barely registered on his scale. Not even a one, in the grand scheme of things. He reached out to try to take his bag from Jayce, only to have him breeze past towards what used to be their room. 

Slowly, Viktor followed, leaning heavily against his crutch, attempting to keep his breathing steady. “What are you doing?” he asked, as the pain intensified. He could feel his bones grind against one another. 

“You’ll be staying in the room.” Jayce’s tone was final, not allowing for any argument. “I’ll take the couch.” 

Viktor had to stop and lean against the wall for support, closing his eyes as the sharp pain dulled to an ever present throbbing. “I could not put you out like that.” He was aware that his accent was thicker, his words slurring as his tongue stumbled across the more refined Piltoverian he had been forced to adopt after emigrating from Zaun. The second half of what Jayce said registered. “What happened to the guest room?”

Shuffling noises in the bedroom were the only response, a shadow falling across the hallway, followed by Jayce emerging with an armful of sheets. “I will be out of your way shortly after I replace the sheets.” He looked Viktor up and down for a moment, his lips pursing. “You should sit. Putting weight on that leg can’t be good for you.” 

Viktor could remember a time when Jayce would pull him close, wordlessly supporting the majority of his body weight, providing reassurance and encouragement on particularly bad days. He swallowed to suppress those memories. “I am fine, Jayce.” It was a lie, but one that he was willing to weather. The sooner he was gone, the better for both of them. He studied the grain of the floors, searching for evidence of something. He wasn’t sure what. 

“Suit yourself.” 

His hand began to cramp with how tightly he was gripping his crutch. This was a mistake, he thought to himself as he watched Jayce retreat back down the hall towards the closet where the washing machine was located. The feelings he had managed to keep repressed for so long were threading their way to the surface. Four years of avoiding any mention of Jayce or Hextech and building the wall around him, falling in perpetual motion around him. 

The truth, laid bare. Viktor had never truly stopped loving Jayce. 

With a low grunt, he made his way to the open door. The pain was beginning to creep up the scale, as expected from the arrival of nightfall. A three, or maybe a four. The bedroom had changed the most. Where the bed used to be situated in the middle of the wall, it was now shoved into the corner to make room for a new workspace, the sight of which made Viktor frown. 

Jayce had always insisted on the bedroom remaining a work-free zone. 

The furniture had been completely replaced, although there was something vaguely familiar about it that Viktor could not pinpoint. The walls were now a charcoal blue instead of the off-white it had been when they moved in, complementing the light grey area rug that took up most of the floor. 

A clipped voice from behind him startled him. “Pardon.” 

Without looking at him, Viktor moved aside to let Jayce pass. “I… like what you did with the room,” he said hesitantly. “Very...modern.”

Jayce's next words were sharp enough to silence Viktor. “Lying was never your strong suit.” 

No, it wasn't. Not until it mattered most. 

He quietly observed Jayce setting up the bed, trying to keep from swaying in place, the leg brace beginning to chafe where the worn padding rubbed against his skin. How far he has fallen, watching his ex-fiancé stretch the bedsheets over the corners of the mattress for him because in the face of all of his supposed genius and intellect, he forgot to change his emergency contact. 

“There.” Jayce stood back to look at the made bed. “I’ll get you more pillows.” 

He remembered. It made Viktor want to cry a little, Jayce’s consideration and recollection that he liked to sleep with a small nest of pillows, shoving them where he needed to alleviate pressure as he laid down. “I—This is enough, Jayce.” It was already more than enough. 

Jayce stood there, the tense lines of his shoulder quickly becoming a familiar sight in a heartbreaking reflection of the last time they had seen each other, with Jayce reaching out desperately to Viktor, begging and pleading with him to stay. That they could fix this. 

Viktor had no choice but to walk away. His conviction had never wavered in this regard.

“I’ll get you more pillows,” Jayce repeated. “You’ll need them.” 

And before Viktor could say anything, he turned around to breeze past, not even pausing to spare him a glance.

The pain in his lower leg forced him to hobble over to the bed to sit, sinking down on the mattress. Jayce returned with a mountain of pillows, with mismatched pillow cases, none that were familiar to Viktor. 

As he arranged them on the bed, Viktor saw the stiffness in Jayce's arms, how careful he was to not invade Viktor's personal space. It was typical of him to be this considerate of Viktor's boundaries, to stay away from the wall he had built to surround his heart, something that he had built himself, brick by brick. Maybe a month after the break-up, they could have taken a hammer to the barrier together. But now? It would take an explosion.

“Why did you pick up the phone? You could have ignored the hospital.”

Jayce goes still at the question, hands tightening around the pillow he was in the middle of fluffing up. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.” 

The untruth hung heavy in the air. They knew neither one of them would acknowledge. 

“I see,” Viktor replied evenly. “I will be, ah—what is the phrase?—gone from your hair in a tock?” 

Jayce snorted out a laugh, a sound that Viktor found that he missed dearly in that moment. It had been something freely given when they were together in small moments that had not seemed important at the time. Viktor making a wry joke about nothing in particular, flinging out insane ideas about what they could do with Hextech, traipsing into the kitchen the morning after sixteen hours of sleep in his messed-up sleep schedule. 

“Out of your hair in a tick. Technically two separate idioms.” 

“Eh…Close enough.” 

Jayce’s phone began to ring, startling the both of them. That was something else that had changed, then. 

“Excuse me, I need to take this.” Jayce pulled the device out of the pocket, picked up without even looking at the caller ID, and held the phone up to his ear. “Hello?” 

Without even sparing a glance at Viktor, he walked out of the bedroom, speaking rapid Spanish. 

His mother must have called. The memory of the last time Viktor had seen Ximena Talis flashed through his mind. 

Nothing sounded better than crawling into bed and falling into a deep sleep at the moment. Being put on show as a warning sign under the guise of job interviews was more exhausting than Viktor had expected. Piltover and its hypocritical morals, indeed.  

It seemed that luck was not on his side today, as his bus not only skipped his stop, but dropped him off in a location where walking back to his apartment meant traversing through areas with no sidewalks. Finally, he reached his building of residence with a newfound appreciation for street lamps and the knowledge that he would be hard-pressed to leave his bed the following day. 

Only to find Ximena Talis standing at the front door. 

Her entire face lit up when she saw him, and he found himself crushed in a tight hug. “Viktor, my darling boy,” she murmured out as she pulled back, holding him at arm's length so she could look at him fully. 

The way her accent curled around his name always made him violently homesick for a nation that he could no longer return to. It reminded him of days long ago, when his parents were still alive and would card their fingers through his hair and call him Vitya. 

“Ximena. It is good to see you.” That at least was not a lie. “What can I do for you?” 

“May I come in?”

Viktor paused at her request, eyes flickering up to the building. It was not as luxurious as the apartment that he and Jayce previously lived in, but it was still habitable and had hot water. More than Viktor had when he first started at Piltover Academy. 

“Of course.”

She followed him up and through the doorway. “You have a lovely place.” 

Her tone was polite, in the same way that parents would acknowledge a child's attempt at crafts. He chose not to call her out on it, instead accepting it with a quiet thank you and an offer of tea. 

She shook her head. “I don't want to intrude for too long.”

Viktor sank down into one of the armchairs and looked up at her, studying her. There were bags under her eyes, more grey in her hair since the last he saw her three months ago. A good ex-almost-son-in-law would have inquired after her health, ask how her flower shop was doing. The usual obligatory small talk that society dictated was necessary. Viktor was never good at small talk or conforming to societal norms. “If this is about Jayce, there's nothing more to say.” 

He looked away, unable to meet her eyes. Leaving the apartment he and Jayce shared had been difficult. Having this conversation with the woman who had whole-heartedly opened her arms to him and welcomed him to the family even before he and Jayce had started dating would be impossible.

“Viktor. Vitya.” 

He wanted her to hate him, to yell at him and threaten his existence. The attempt at comfort, at reconciliation cut deeper than any rebuke would have. Hearing her call him so tenderly even after he broke her son's heart made him want to sob. “Don't.” 

She saw through him. She always had. “I know what Jayce did…is unforgivable. I am not so blind to my son's virtues that I could not see how much it hurt you.” 

“He betrayed me.” 

“I know, Vitya. I know.” She knelt down in front of him, taking his hand in hers. “You were right to walk away. I just hope that you will consider, one day, returning to him.” 

In some way, Viktor had returned to Jayce. Just not on his own terms. 

Jayce was still speaking in Spanish, very quietly and rapidly, making it impossible for Viktor to catch what was being said. Not that it mattered; he had given up any potential relationship with Ximena long ago. 

Shakily, he stood, supporting himself with his crutch under his shoulder and the bedpost under his other hand. By the skin of his teeth, he managed to stumble over to the wardrobe. It was odd, standing precariously in front of a set of drawers that they had so carefully divided in the early stages of their relationship, only for all of those boundaries to be destroyed the moment sorting through their laundry became too much of a chore. 

The worst part was that, despite the painful history they had, Jayce would have offered the very clothes off his back without Viktor even asking. 

It was equal parts infuriating and heartbreaking. 

He opened one of the top drawers, pretending that the shirts thrown carelessly in was a surprise and that it had not been muscle memory leading him there. 

The first thing he pulled out happened to be an old Piltover University tee. It had been through the wash so many times that the vinyl was peeling, the school emblem and name cracking, but it would do. Viktor shed the button-up that he had been wearing when he collapsed and ended up in the hospital, dropping it at the foot of the bed so when his inevitable departure happened, it would be easier to retrieve. 

The soft shirt practically swallowed him. It seemed that the act of putting the shirt on was the catalyst to cracking open his personal Pandora's box of memories he wished he could forget, as he remembered that the shirt had originally been pilfered from Jayce's wardrobe prior to their relationship developing from best friends to lovers, the first time Viktor had stayed past the last bus. 

It enveloped his thin frame, hanging past his thighs, the collar stretched over the years and falling to reveal a sharp collarbone. He sat there, fists clenching at the hem as he contemplated what he should do with his trousers. It felt disrespectful to shed the dress pants in this space that he no longer had any part in, but he was not sure if he could even fall asleep with them on. Certainly not without taking off the leg brace. 

He winced a little as he leaned over to begin undoing the buckles, the movement pulling at the sore muscles in his back. It was slow going, during which he could still hear Jayce talking in low tones out in the hallway. 

The distance between them, if only physically a few feet, felt insurmountable. Gone were the days of Jayce picking up his phone with an arm wrapped around Viktor with a, “Hola, mama. Viktor's here, I'm putting you on speaker.” That would be followed by fussing on Ximena's end, asking Viktor if her son was taking care of him (“Yes, he gets anxious if I miss lunch by half an hour”), how his treatments were going (“Promising”) and then a light argument between mother and son over what meal she would prepare for their next visit. 

The loneliness struck Viktor like a cannon, the sting of saltwater blurring his vision. The leg brace finally came loose, and he kicked it down towards the end of the bed. He pressed a fist to the space in between his eyebrows, shutting his eyes in a last line of defense against the emotions threatening to overwhelm him. 

It was like this that Jayce found him, hunched over, eyes closed. “Are you in pain?” he asked. 

A hysterical laugh bubbled up from his chest. “I am always in pain, Jayce.” It came out sharper than intended. “I will be fine. I can go home tomorrow, ask Miss Young to check in on me.” 

“Why are you so stubborn?” 

Viktor looked up at Jayce. The other man had his hands outstretched, a worried look on his face that only served to highlight the scars across his face. Viktor hated the sudden phantom sensation of how the knotted skin felt under his fingertips.  “What are you talking about? We are no longer involved. You have no responsibility to oversee my care.” 

“Do you know how I felt when I got the call, Viktor? Do you even care?” Jayce ran a hand through his hair, a familiar gesture when presented with a particularly frustrating problem. Except… now Viktor was the frustrating problem. 

“What—” 

“I thought you were dead, and that it was the hospital calling me to… I don't know, to pick up the body or make arrangements or something.” 

It felt absurd. It was absurd. But Jayce did always have an overactive imagination. “I am sorry.” And he was, although he could not quite pinpoint what for. 

A tense silence filled the room as the standstill continued between the two of them. Viktor knew any further attempts at leaving would only make Jayce more upset. So he stayed silent, waiting for the other to gather his thoughts. 

“I know you value your independence and autonomy.” The words were slow, agonizing, as if each one physically hurt Jayce. Although that may have just been wishful thinking, a rare glimpse of the heartache Viktor had carefully locked away. “But you…what if you had passed out while you were alone? No one would have known you were in trouble.” 

All at once, the stark reminder of his loneliness made his blood run cold. “I would have managed,” he replied in a clipped tone. 

“That’s not…” Jayce let out a frustrated sigh. “That's not what I meant. The doctors all recommended you stay with someone.”

“When have you known me to follow medical advice?” 

The deflection did not work. Instead, Jayce took a moment to study him, the scrutiny making him want to growl and bare his teeth in the most base animalistic impulse. Instead, he looked away, breaking eye contact. “I'm serious, Viktor.” 

Viktor. Not V, not Vik, not Vitya. “I can…call Sky to come monitor me. Or…I have a roommate.” Not that Jayce needed to know that Deckard would be more likely to rob Viktor for all of his valuables to pay for Shimmer than take care of him.

“Roommate?” 

“It was a necessity.” 

“Are you fucking them?” The question was so out of left field that Viktor was stunned into absolute silence, head shooting back up to gape at Jayce. He had the same jut to his mouth that Viktor knew meant I fucked up, but I will not walk this back. 

And of course, Viktor couldn’t help but rise to the bait. In a choice between fight or flight, he would always choose the former. “That is none of your business, Jayce.” He expected to feel the same vicious satisfaction he had whenever he had solved a particularly difficult equation during the height of his technical days, but as he watched Jayce’s shoulders fall, all he felt was hollow. It was difficult to watch, and he had to wrench his eyes away, staring at the workstation behind Jayce. “No. I’m not.” 

Time stretched between them. Seconds, minutes, hours, Viktor did not know. It was enough time for him to study the desk. Jayce still had the habit of leaving all of his notebooks strewn about. 

Viktor wondered if Jayce still signed his name on each page. 

Viktor wondered if Jayce kept any of the notebooks with ‘Reviewed By: Viktor Talis’ under his signature. 

“It’s late. You should get some rest.” Jayce’s abrupt end to the conversation startled him, but he knew when to accept dismissal for what it was.

“Very well. Good night, Jayce.” 

“Good night, Viktor.” Viktor kept his eyes down on the floor as he heard the footsteps retreat. There was a pause. “Let me know if you need anything.” Even now, Jayce was soft and caring, a kindness that Viktor was not deserving of. The room was plunged into darkness as Jayce flipped the lightswitch off. 

Viktor gingerly shifted to lie down on the bed. Sleep did not come easily. It never did, although normally the root cause could be identified as the constant thrum of pain frying every one of his nerves. The anxiety of being in such close proximity to his ex-fiancé in the apartment he once called home was an anomaly, an outlier that he did not know what to do with, tying his stomach into knots that threatened to well up into his esophagus and suffocate him. 

His phone, an older model from several years prior, rested on the bed next to his head. The black case was illuminated by the light of the streetlamp streaming through the small crack that the expensive blackout curtains Jayce had insisted on did not quite cover. Instinct from years of insomnia had him reaching for the device. No new notifications. 

The solitude that he had wrapped around him like a shield used to be comforting and familiar, but in the moment, he wished that he could have afforded to be more open. 

Viktor put his phone down to roll back over, tightening the blanket around his body and closed his eyes in a feeble attempt to fall asleep.

Chapter Text

The hard mattress that Viktor had been forced to purchase from the open box section at the local furniture store was surprisingly soft under him. The only significant sources of pain were from his lower back and his leg, as if time had turned back ten years. Viktor. Even Jayce was back, whispering his name in the way that he used to. Viktor. He sounded so real. The pillow under him even carried the sandalwood scent that Jayce favored. 

Maybe the last four years did not happen. Maybe it was all a nightmare, fueled by one too many pills in the pharmacy he kept in his bedside drawer. 

He could wake up now, smile at Jayce, and whisper a soft Good morning. Go through the familiar motions of swatting Jayce away from attempting to kiss him with morning breath, compromising instead with rolling over into strong arms wrapping around him. Holding him tightly, an immovable force that even Newton could not define. 

Viktor did not know what to do. He could roll over, see if the gun pressed to his temple had a bullet loaded in the chamber to shatter him once more. Or continue to fall deeper into a dream that seemed so distant now. 

“Viktor.” Jayce was closer now. “You need to take your medication.” 

His blood ran cold as he remembered what led him here. 

The smell of sandalwood had not been a trick of his mind.  

The pain (four, manageable with one extra pill if taken at the right time) of shifting onto his back and sitting up was more effective in waking him up than the strongest cup of coffee. Jayce stood there, looking like every middle-aged housewife’s wet dream in a maroon polo shirt and tight dark jeans. The glass of water and small plastic container of pills was the bitter reminder that Viktor had deteriorated to the point of having lost his independence. 

He swallowed the bitter reminder without protest, choking them down dry and shaking his head when Jayce attempted to hand him the glass of water. He didn’t trust his own grip strength at the moment, the aftershock of emotional and physical pain making it difficult to even breathe.  

“How are you feeling?” Jayce asked. 

“The same as usual,” he responded. “Well enough to go home. Give you your bed back.” 

The intensity of Jayce’s gaze made Viktor drop his own. He studied the torn skin around his nails, a bad habit he carried through to adulthood from adolescence. “I thought we went over this. Please stay. If not for me, for my mother. She’s worried about you.” 

The taste of metal filled Viktor’s mouth, and he realized that he had bit down on his tongue. What was another injury to add to the growing list? As subtly as he could, he swallowed the blood down. “You…talked to Ximena about me?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral as he could. 

He didn’t know what to feel. Anger? Sadness? Longing? Things that he had no right to anymore. 

“Of course.” The response was so easy. So…Jayce. “You know her, always a mother hen. It’s only gotten worse, you know. Empty nest syndrome.” 

“I…do not have clothing.” 

It was a weak excuse, and they both knew it. At least Jayce was kind enough to not mention the stolen shirt hanging off of Viktor’s body. “You can borrow mine for now. There are gym shorts in the dresser.” 

Viktor knew he should ask for specifics on which drawer Jayce was talking about, pretend like he did not still know Jayce’s organization system as well as his own. Briefs and pajamas in the top right. Boxer briefs, socks, and gym shorts in the drawer to the left. Polo shirts and chinos right under. The casual button-ups that did not need ironing folded with the collar stays in.

Instead, he nodded. “Okay.” 

“I’m going out to brunch with Caitlyn,” he paused, searching for his next words. “You…” 

“Don’t worry, I will not touch anything related to Hextech.” Viktor would not give Jayce the chance to care for him, to begin to mend what had been broken beyond repair. He always knew what to say to bury the knife deep, even with Jayce. Especially with Jayce. “I would not be able to do anything with that information.” Not for lack of brainpower. Sometimes it felt like all Viktor had left was his brain. 

“W-What? Do you….Do you really think so little of me?” 

The yes—his final strike to permanently shatter whatever delusion that Jayce was harboring— was stuck in Viktor’s throat. It should have been easy. 

No. An admission that would have to be dug from where it had grown roots around his ribcage. 

There was a scab over a previous wound around his right thumb. He began to discreetly pick at it, scratching at it with his left thumbnail, instead of looking up at Jayce and doing something stupid. 

The silence hung between them, until Jayce finally sighed. “Not everything has to be a fight, V.” 

V. That single letter almost broke Viktor. Might have, if Jayce had not so fortuitously turned and left the room.

The charcoal blue of the walls was too dark. It made the room feel smaller, especially with the addition of the desk, large enough to accommodate two monitors. It was not a color Viktor would have selected for Jayce. It reminded him of the smog from his childhood, oppressive and poisonous.

Jayce always shone brightest in red, white, and gold. Those had been the colors of his family’s company, something he was immensely proud of from childhood. He had enjoyed dressing Viktor in those colors too but not in ownership. Never in ownership. Possessive, perhaps, as evidenced by the bruises that decorated Viktor’s skin, but Viktor had returned the favor with equal fervor. 

Jayce had always insisted that the world see them as equals. 

Charcoal blue. It had not even been a choice during their initial perusal of wall colors. 

Viktor had rejected crimson as soon as Jayce held up the sample card. It was too violent, he had said. Too loud. Crimson would have been better than charcoal blue. They had selected gold accents on their furniture throughout the apartment. Habits died hard. Jayce always loved seeing Viktor against Talis red. He should have indulged him instead of fighting back. The fight had resulted in the bedroom remaining white. 

Crimson would have been nice. Maybe not for all four walls though. An accent wall, the one the headboard was against. 

The charcoal walls were so dark, so depressing. It was a color that Viktor tended towards, practical for hiding stains and loose threads. Something that he carried through from childhood but for pragmatism rather than pride. 

Viktor could not help but wonder if Jayce had selected the paint with someone else. He had not heard of any romantic entanglements, but that meant very little. When he did have access to the internet, the self-preservation of not searching for Jayce Talis had won out over sentimentality. 

Jayce deserved to move on. To be happy. 

But not with someone who chose that shade of paint for the wall. 

It was too dark for someone like Jayce. The personification of sunshine and love. No, he deserved to be shrouded in gold. 

It was not until his bladder began to protest that Viktor realized he had spent the last hour sitting there staring at the opposite wall. With a groan, he reached for his crutch and forced his aching body into motion. The tap tap taps of the mobility aid were muffled by the carpet. That had been a necessary installation after the downstairs neighbors had complained about the noise one too many times for management to ignore. 

Viktor could still remember the look on their faces when they met him in person for the first time. It had also been one of the times Viktor had whacked Jayce across the shin hard enough for it to actually hurt when he attempted to confront them for their rudeness and discrimination.

The bathroom was thankfully right next to the bedroom, a concession that Jayce had been forced to make, instead of the ensuite that he had wanted for Viktor’s comfort. A teak chair greeted him from the walk-in shower. Viktor’s breath caught. “You fool…” he muttered, to himself or to whatever higher being was listening, he did not know. “You sentimental fool.” 

How was Viktor supposed to remain distant and cold from Jayce when his actions were anything but? How was Viktor not supposed to keep loving Jayce in the face of a folded towel on the sink and the handheld shower head lowered for easy access while seated? 

Viktor tried to chase the existential crisis away with hot, scalding water, hoping that these thoughts would wash down the drain. He remained under the spray for so long that his skin turned pink from the heat, the pinpricks of pain a welcome distraction from his spiraling thoughts. 

Clean, scrubbed raw inside and out, he re-emerged with the towel wrapped around him into the outside world past the frosted glass door, for the first contact to be with his own reflection in the mirror. A pale, gaunt face looked back at him. He could not remember the last time he could have been described as looking ‘healthy’. Certainly not now, not with the ghostly evidence staring him in the face. 

Jayce used to call him beautiful. 

Viktor once believed him. 

A knock at the door startled him into dropping his crutch. Then, the doorknob jiggled, and Viktor was glad that he remembered to lock the door. “Viktor? Are you alright in there?” There was an edge of panic to Jayce's voice, not unlike the first time they'd presented their work at the Distinguished Innovator's Competition, when Jayce had spent the entire car ride over fretting about how every pothole would damage their equipment.   

No. “Yes. I'll be right out,” he called back, gripping the edges of the sink to keep from falling.

“I've left clothes on the bed.” A pause, as if Jayce were waiting for a response. Viktor did not give one. He did not want Jayce to see what he had become. “Shout if you need anything.” And then Viktor was left alone with the sound of his own ragged breathing echoing around him. 

Minutes passed before Viktor could even begin to think about retrieving his crutch. Several more minutes passed before he actually began to move. 

Sharp pain resonated up his spine as he carefully bent down to retrieve his aid. It was an excruciatingly slow task, one that almost made him cry once his crutch was safely in his hands again. 

The clothing on the bed was clearly Jayce's, although he had been considerate enough to provide at least a pair of gym shorts with a drawstring. Even then, they hung low, caught on the sharp jut of Viktor's hip bones. 

Jayce was sitting at the small breakfast table in the kitchen, distracted by his phone. There was a mug and a plastic container across from him. The sound of the cane hitting the floor always gave Viktor's approach away, and this was no exception. 

“I was beginning to worry,” Jayce said, in lieu of a greeting. He looked up and fell quiet, his eyes darting up and down. Viktor was under no illusion that he had lost weight over the past few years, going from skinny to downright skeletal. He wished he had thought to steal a hoodie. “I got you some pancakes from the diner.” 

Not only did he do that, but he had also made a mug of the sweetmilk-coffee monstrosity Viktor had been so fond of for as long as they had known each other. After the break-up, Viktor had begun to drink his coffee black, despite the horrible acid reflux it gave him. The smell of anise and maple made Viktor's stomach turn, but he approached the table anyways and sat. “Thank you.” 

Viktor could not help but wonder if Jayce felt the awkwardness. For all of his brilliance, the other man could be a bit blind sometimes. But as Jayce stared at him expectantly, Viktor had no other option, picking up the silverware (new, not the fancy set Ximena had gifted them when they moved in together from her own wedding) to begin cutting into the pancakes. 

He would not be able to get away with cutting the food up and pushing it around the container, not under Jayce's scrutiny. The first bite was rich and sickly sweet, something that Viktor of the past would have indulged in, but not now. Still, he forced it down and began to cut a second piece. 

The appeasement seemed to work, as Jayce nodded in approval and picked his phone back up. “I wanted to talk about your appointments and scheduling, so I can let Lest know.” 

Huh. Viktor had always assumed that Jayce would end up with the untouchable Mel Medarda. If he was being honest with himself, a part of him hoped they would get together after the separation, if only so he could hate Jayce more for confirming that Viktor was just a blip in his perfect dating life. “If I am disturbing your time with your…paramour, you need not sugar coat it.” 

Jayce’s face twitched, flashing through emotions quicker than Viktor could identify, before settling on bemused. “Wha—paramour? What? Are you talking about Lest?” 

Viktor shrugged. “Is there someone else?” he asked nonchalantly, hiding his grimace behind pretending to take a sip of the sweetmilk-coffee mixture. 

“She’s my assistant. What…what would give you the impression that—she and I…are like that?” 

In any other situation, Viktor would have found the floundering unbearably endearing. He looked down at his mug, finding the contrast between beige and white the most fascinating thing in the universe at that moment. “You are an attractive man. I am under no illusion that there were offers after our separation.” 

“You…” Jayce took a few audible breaths. It was unnaturally rhythmic, and it took Viktor a few cycles to understand that there were four counts in between each inhale and exhale. “What appointments do you have scheduled for the next two weeks?” 

It seemed that Viktor’s usual methods of deflecting were no longer as effective. The innate desire to protect himself through sharp words and low blows melted away with that realization. This would be that sort of conversation. Well, Viktor had never been a coward. He raised his head to meet Jayce’s gaze head-on. “None.” 

“None?” Viktor didn’t even realize that Jayce could hit that pitch. A twinge of pain from sitting in the position for too long made itself known in his spine, but his pride refused to let him show it. 

“I do not see the need.” Nor could he afford it, not after everything. 

“Do not see…Viktor, you are clearly not well!” 

He squinted at Jayce at the sudden break in the unspoken truce that they would not acknowledge that. “I am quite aware,” he snapped back. “However, that is none of your business.” Not anymore. 

“I am trying to help. Why are you so goddamn stubborn?” Jayce slammed his phone down on the table. “You had me down as your emergency contact.” Viktor opened his mouth, but Jayce continued on, like a bull in a china shop. “And don’t give me that bullshit about forgetting to change your contact. We both know that would not have been something that would have escaped your list of things to-do in breaking my heart.” 

And just like that, Viktor could not…did not want to be a part of this conversation. It was easy enough to wallow in his own self-victimization for all those years, to place the blame solely on Jayce in how their relationship ended. To convince himself that it was Jayce’s actions that had all but killed Viktor. But there it was. The indelible proof that Viktor’s hands were also covered in the blood of their bond. “I am dying, Jayce. There is no point in trying to save me. Not anymore.” 

That confession hung heavy in the air, as Jayce reeled back. “You…dying?” The last word was a whisper. 

“Pretending that the word does not exist will not prevent it from happening,” Viktor snapped, growing impatient with how Jayce was acting like the wronged party here. “ Yes. I’m dying. Terminal. Mastocytosis, evolved from my previous conditions. Does it matter?” 

“Why…why didn’t the doctors say anything to me?” 

Viktor couldn’t help but snort. “Why would they? We were never married.” It was cruel, perhaps, to take out his frustration at the world on Jayce in this manner. Yet, the anger did not waver, as he watched Jayce’s face turn pale. It did not fade when Jayce stood abruptly, the chair screeching against the linoleum of the kitchen floor. It did not vanish, there was no moment of clarity to cut through the rage, when the apartment door slammed shut. 

The mug shattered against the kitchen floor.

Chapter Text

Viktor had regrets in his life. Right now, not checking out against medical advice the moment the nurse told him that they had contacted his emergency contact was at the top of the list. If he had, maybe he would have been able to die with at least some parts of his heart whole, instead of what felt like a gaping hole in his chest. It had been a mistake coming here, to a space that he used to call home. 

Jayce always did know how to get under his skin, even if he meant well. The revelation of his decline was not intentional, but now it was out in the open. 

The selfish part of him was glad that at least someone else would mourn his passing. 

Regardless, he could not stay here any longer. There were too many memories here, painful and happy ones. Every minute here dug up a sentimentality that he could not afford.  Viktor did not know how much longer he would last without medical intervention. It did not matter. He had a plan. A defiant ‘fuck you’ to the rest of the world. 

The pancakes and mug were abandoned in favor of hobbling back to the bedroom to locate his clothing. 

Just as he crossed the threshold of the door, Jayce's gym shorts, hanging on by a miracle and a prayer, slipped past down his hips. In his rush to catch them before they fully fell, he stumbled and crashed to the floor in a flurry of curses as sharp pain shot up his spine. The carpet absorbed some impact, but he found himself paralyzed, curling up. As if he could shield his body from the world. 

The pain did not subside, only grew. Climbing from the ‘bad pain day’ baseline of three, ticking to a five, before settling on a seven. Any movement burned. 

The panic began to set in, his base emotions overriding any semblance of higher thought. 

Why didn’t you just leave? It was so easy the first time. 

The voice in his head was cruel in its honesty, his infamous bluntness now a dagger pointed at his own ribs. 

After all, it was all Jayce’s fault. 

Viktor remembered the betrayal that had lanced through his chest at the email from Salo in his inbox, thanking him for his years of service and that it was unfortunate that this was the decision the board had come to. Attached to that email had been a contract stipulating the terms of his severance. A non-compete, non-disclosure, and a clause for him to transfer his shares of the company in exchange for a hefty final sum. 

Viktor had, in no uncertain terms, told Salo to fuck off. 

He was trembling, his hands wrapped around his own upper arms. In an attempt to break himself out of the spiral, he squeezed as tight as he could. 

His hands were too small. Too weak. 

Jayce made that contract with Noxus behind your back. 

Jayce had insisted that he had no other choice, that this was practically a demand from Piltover's government for Hextech to cooperate. 

Viktor recalled the conversation with frightening clarity. 

“This is a great opportunity, V,” Jayce had declared, the conviction bleeding through his voice a reminder of what had brought them together. “A chance for Hextech to go global and change the world.”

They had been in Jayce's office, a large and opulent corner office in the building, as befitting his status of CEO and the ‘Man of Progress’. Mel and Ambessa Medarda sat across the desk from him, both looking unfairly at home amongst the luxury furnishings, as compared to Viktor in his ill-fitting clothing. An unwanted present from his recent weight loss. 

The presence of Mel had made Viktor's eyes narrow. She had always been an investor first, Jayce's friend second—something Jayce readily accepted, but Viktor never quite did. And for her to be present at this meeting with her mother did not bode well. 

“You must be Mister Novak,” Ambessa said smoothly, as if Viktor's interruption of their meeting had been planned. She stood and extended a hand. “I am—” 

“I know who you are,” Viktor snapped back, not even deigning to look at her, his eyes boring into Jayce. “And it's Doctor Novak, Mrs. Medarda.” The sharpness of his words were betrayed by the need to shift his body weight, the strain of standing for so long beginning to birth a painful ache in his knee. 

Jayce's eyes went wide at Viktor's blatant disrespect, before his eyebrows furrowed. “Viktor, you can't—” 

“Weapons, Jayce. We did not create Hextech to create weapons.” It was a testament to Jayce’s shock—or disregard, Viktor had not even entertained that as a possibility until after—that he did not immediately stand to offer relief to his partner. 

“But Mel—” 

“I don't care. If you follow through with this, Jayce Talis, I will walk away. From Hextech and from you.” 

Viktor hated how Jayce's face went pale at those words. Hated the soft gasp that he heard from Mel. Hated how he could feel the smugness radiating from Ambessa. 

In his moment of desperation, of horror and disgust, he had thought the ultimatum would have been enough for Jayce. But as he stared at the press release, the dawning realization that he was finding out with the rest of the world hit him like a punch to the gut. 

The dismissal came almost immediately after, in what Viktor could only imagine was a coordinated effort to rid Hextech of its current largest obstacle.

He forced you to sell ownership of the company and was too cowardly to do it to your face. 

The sale of his shares in the company had been unexpected, a twist of the knife after his removal and the press release. 

Viktor had thought he was being practical about adding Jayce as a beneficiary, knowing that he would not outlive Jayce. There had been no one else in his life who he would have trusted with such a thing, and signing the papers to give Jayce fiduciary control over his account seemed like a natural progression, a small nothing in the face of the years of scientific partnership turned to a romantic engagement. 

He did not think that Jayce would take advantage of that, especially not when it had been less than forty-eight hours since Viktor had left behind a ring and ten years of dedication. At first, he had thought it was a mistake, an error in the system. A call to the brokerage firm confirmed that no, there was no error. Indeed, everything from his account had been sold. 

The representative did sound truly regretful when she told Viktor she could not disclose details about the sale or where the money went. 

Viktor could have retaliated, legally. It had crossed his mind briefly, once, when he was at his lowest low, sitting at the table with a calculator and notepad to figure out how to afford his medication and rent for that month. 

And yet, the thought of seeing Jayce again, even if it would be across a table with lawyers present, had filled him with such panic that he had just barely made it to the bathroom, only for nothing but bile to come up. 

Viktor had wanted to believe that maybe Jayce did not know what was going on, given that he had been on a business trip during that time. That maybe there was some sort of misunderstanding, and Viktor had not been taken such advantage of, but he found it difficult to believe that Jayce had been unaware of anything that transpired. 

But the facts were laid bare in front of him. The familiar signature on the press release, one that Viktor had absentmindedly traced in preparation to adopt as his own. The board vote to remove him from the company. The transfer statements on an account that only Jayce would have had access to. 

One might have been an anomaly. Two, a pattern. But three? That became statistically significant in the study of them. 

Jayce was the one to ruin you. 

Viktor had spent countless hours staring at the wall, wondering if Jayce had ever truly loved him, or if it had all been a lie. It was a harsh reminder of how, at the start, Viktor had been suspicious of Jayce’s intentions, bordering on paranoia. Men like Jayce did not fall in love with men like Viktor.

Where his analytical mind had served him well in his studies and career, it had turned into a double-edged sword that only grew sharper with each free moment after the break-up. And he had nothing but time. 

Every kiss, every hug, every touch came into question. 

Their first kiss. Jayce had asked Viktor to meet him at the physics building for a late night jaunt. It had been nothing out of the ordinary, especially in the early days of Hextech. 

Except what had been unusual was Jayce’s insistence that they go up to the roof. 

Viktor had been stunned into silence when he was greeted by the sight of a blanket, a bag of takeout containers from the Zaunite restaurant just outside of campus, and a telescope. “A break… a date, if you are open to it,” had been Jayce’s shy explanation. “It’s a planetary parade, and I remember you saying that you wished you had been able to see the clear sky in Zaun.” 

It had been a throwaway comment, something that Viktor had mentioned off-hand. But it had clearly been something Jayce had squirreled away, filed away for this moment. 

Viktor could do nothing more than surge forward and kiss Jayce. 

Jayce was an awful liar. He had the charisma and charm required to lead Hextech—there was never any doubt in that—but the man was the embodiment of a golden retriever, wearing his heart on his sleeve and reacting first before he thought. 

Then how could Jayce have looked Viktor in the face and ask What’s wrong? when his life was being turned upside down? 

After they built a life together.

The catch-all bowl at the front door. The sweetmilk in the fridge. The accommodations that Viktor required for his condition. 

Jayce had accepted all of Viktor’s flaws. 

Then why? 

Distantly, Viktor registered an awful ache in his chest. A heart attack? What were the signs? He couldn’t remember, his brain racing as he gulped for air. Why was it so hard to breathe? 

He was dying—there was no other possibility. A sad end to a sad life, curled up on the ground of his ex-fiance’s bedroom. Blood rushed through his ears, fading to a low pitched hum. 

Jayce. 

Viktor fumbled for his phone in his pocket, the screen blurring in front of him. Oh. He hadn’t even realized he had been crying. The phone slipped from his shaking hands as he tried to unlock it, and he let out a soft cry of frustration. He managed to hit the right button to pull up his contacts list. Jayce Talis. The first contact on the list. The only name starred. 

He pressed call. 

The phone rang, once, twice. Then. “Hello?” 

Viktor let out a shaky breath at the sound of Jayce’s voice. “J-Jayce,” he sobbed out. 

There was a beat of silence, during which Viktor tried so hard to breathe. Then. “Viktor?” 

He could only cry harder. 

“Viktor, what’s wrong?” 

“C-Can you…call me Vitya again?” 

There was nothing on the other side. No no no, Viktor’s entire body burned before going ice cold as his brain struggled to process the rejection. “P-Please.” 

“Viktor. What—are you home?” There was something wrong with Jayce’s voice. No. He wanted his final memories of Jayce to be untainted. The sharp edge of his phone dug into his sternum as he clutched at it. “What’s happening? Are you okay?” 

No. That was the only panic-filled, adrenaline ridden word flashing through his brain. He could only wheeze through another sob. 

“V, stay with me,” Jayce pleaded. It was the same sentence that haunted Viktor's nightmares. 

Jayce, stumbling to the floor as Viktor stared at him, unmoving. Emotionless. 

“Why?” 

“Our paths diverged long ago.” 

“Is this about me spending too much time away from the lab? I can fix this, V, just…I never asked for this!” 

“Goodbye, Jayce.” 

“V, stay with me!” 

Stay with me.

Back then, Viktor had not listened. Instead, he had left their apartment, the faint indent on his ring finger still present. 

In this moment, it was as if some higher being was giving him a second chance. 

“Jayce…” The sandpaper words were ripped from his throat, smoothing him down to his vulnerable core, revealing the truth. “I’m afraid.” 

“I know, I know. V, just… fuck. I’ll be right there.” 

Viktor’s entire body felt too big for his skin, foreign and cosmic all at once. The sharp pain coursing through his body dulled into a hazy ache as the world began to spin around him. 

“V, hey—Viktor, look at me.” There were warm hands bracketing his face, tilting him upwards. 

Jayce was here. 

Here. 

He looked hurt. 

No, not hurt. 

Worried? 

Why would Jayce look worried? That was not a look that belonged there. Viktor closed his eyes. 

“Jayce…I am glad that you are here.” Out of all the people inhabiting this planet, Jayce would have always been his first choice to be by his side as he died. “I missed you.” There was no point in lying now. 

“I missed you too, V. So fucking much. But I need you to look at me.” 

He did and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry,” he gasped out. “I’m so sorry, Jayce.” Despite the fact that his arms felt like they were made of lead, he managed to reach his hands up, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at thick forearms. “I shouldn’t have…” 

“Viktor, breathe.” 

That only served to intensify Viktor’s sobs as he tried. He wanted to listen, wanted for Jayce to just love him again. But the knot in his throat kept him from taking any more air beyond short gasps. 

“V, you're having a panic attack. I need you to—-okay. Fuck.” 

But Viktor was not listening, his entire world narrowed down to the need to get his next words out. “I should have stayed. Should have…worked it out. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” 

Thumbs brushed along his cheekbones, wiping away his tears. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the touch, chasing the solid comfort he had exchanged for phantom caresses on his loneliest nights. “It's okay. It's—I forgave you a long time ago.” 

Forgiveness. The most precious gift Jayce could have given him. “I—”

“We can continue this conversation, but I need you to breathe with me, okay? I'll count.” 

Viktor nodded. 

1-2-3-4. A steady count in Jayce’s low voice. Grounding in a way that had very rarely been provided to Viktor through his life. 

“Good.” His heart, racing against his ribcage in a rapid staccato, stuttered at the praise. 

1-2-3-4. 

The hands were warm on his cheeks. 

1-2-3-4. 

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

A calm stillness began to spread through his body as he let Jayce’s steady count wash over him. 

“That’s it. You’re doing so well for me, V.” 

Viktor remained silent, just focusing on his breathing until he felt settled enough to look up at Jayce. It was only then that he noticed the red framing hazel. “Jayce.” 

That one word seemed to break whatever worry was clearly gnawing at him alive, as his entire body visibly relaxed. “You’re back with me, V?” 

He took a moment to check his facilities. “I believe so.” 

With those words, Jayce drew back and looked away. Viktor immediately missed his touch. “Good… that’s….good. We should…we should get off the ground.” 

There was reason in his words, but the idea of the effort needed to make it happen felt impossible. There would have been a time when he would have easily asked Jayce for assistance. Once upon a time, he would have asked just to watch Jayce’s eyes light up. Now, Viktor could  barely even bear to look at him. “We should talk.” Those felt like the proper words to say, but even as he said them, he felt the bone deep exhaustion from the emotional toll his episode had on him. 

“We should,” he immediately acquiesced. “But, you need to get off the ground.” A terse silence followed, conflicting emotions warring across Jayce’s handsome face.

A long time ago, Viktor would have said that they were beyond soulmates, knowing each other better than they knew themselves. But now, as he stared at Jayce, the painful awareness that they were no longer the same as they were four years ago sat heavily behind his ribcage. “If you are willing to help an old man in need, I would appreciate it.” 

The joke fell as he intended, as he watched Jayce’s lips spasm before schooling into a very thin line of disapproval. “You are not old.” 

The predictability of his response soothed an old wound deep inside Viktor’s heart, knowing that even with the time away, Jayce had not changed that much. “The other part of that statement still holds true.” 

Jayce shook his head, but helped Viktor off the ground with an arm around his back. “Do you need any water or anything?” he asked, once Viktor was securely back on the bed. 

“A nap would be nice,” he admitted, before pausing. “But we should talk.” Viktor could not be sure of what the end result of this talk would be. He could not even be sure what he wanted the outcome to be. 

The fact that amidst his panic, his first thought had been to reach for Jayce, discomfited him. Viktor was never good at self-introspection or cared about social niceties, but even he could understand the unusualness of reaching out to one's ex-fiancé in a situation like this. 

“We can talk after you rest. I’m not going anywhere.” 

No, I suppose you never did. The significance of Jayce remaining in this apartment had been a puzzle that Viktor had chosen to ignore, yet against his will, the pieces were beginning to fall into place. The shower chair, the quilts, the sweetmilk, the fucking catch-all bowl. Viktor wanted to force the issue, to have this conversation while he still had the courage. 

But it would not be fair to Jayce, to spring this on him without any advance notice. 

The thought of watching Jayce walk out of the bedroom though, was unbearable. His still overactive mind could not help the what ifs of Jayce being fully gone when he woke up. Objectively, it was ridiculous and Viktor knew that. “Will you…hold me? Just until I fall asleep.” 

There was not even a moment of hesitation before Jayce nodded. “Of course.” 

At the easy acceptance, Viktor felt his heart begin to race faster. Was it really that easy? He glanced up at Jayce, trying to read his expression, but found he could not. Was it a matter of Jayce learning to hide his emotions better or was he indulging Viktor out of pity after seeing how he spiraled from being left alone in the apartment? 

Instead of mulling any further, Viktor slid further towards the wall and turned to face the cobalt blue. It really was horrible. He was sure Jayce had been fed some bullshit about how the dark color was supposed to be calming and conducive to maximum sleep, to be convinced to paint it that color.

Suddenly, the bed dipped behind him. He held his breath, equal parts anticipation and nervousness. Then, he was being gathered up in strong arms, a broad chest pressed against his back. Viktor had forgotten how warm Jayce ran. 

The press of lips against the back of his head did not go unnoticed. Viktor felt tears spring to his eyes at the soft contact. 

He shifted, attempting to twist around to look at Jayce the best he could without causing further injury to himself, but was stopped by the arms around him tightening. 

“Don’t. Just…let me hold you, V. Please.” Viktor felt, rather than heard, the shaky breath that accompanied Jayce’s words across the bare skin of his neck. “I missed you, Vitya.” 

Vitya. With that, the dam broke, and the tears that Viktor had been fighting to hold back began to fall. He tried his hardest to suppress the soft sobs and the tremor running through his body. 

“I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” 

For the first time in years—despite the saltwater trails on his face—Viktor felt safe. Like his vulnerability would not be used against him should he be deemed too fragile for once. The last time he remembered feeling like this was in this very room. 

“Jayce, I—” 

“When you wake.” It was a promise and a vow. 

Viktor swallowed past the knot in his throat. “Okay.” 

The smell of sandalwood surrounded him as he let his eyes fall shut.