Archive of Our Own

“You think this is all in your mind, again, huh?”

“Where else would it even be real, Jayce.”

_____

PART I

The sun rose long after Viktor opened his eyes. Tilting his head against the pillow, Viktor blinked slowly. The delicate glow of the morning stretched from the window, gently distorted by the uneven glass. Everything appeared to be defective, here. Light itself seemed to bear a few scars, painting them golden along the veins that spread on the naked walls of the room.

He was aware that for many, this view would have been considered pretty, maybe. A lovely spectacle of reflection. Some… beauty, in imperfection.

But Viktor had enough scars of his own - dark and rotten ones at that. So, to him, everything had turned into a quite lonely trail of thoughts and whatever games light liked to play, it was far too late for him to appreciate it now, for he had become a creature of shadows, once, and the feeling seemed to… linger.

Sinking his fingers into the rich blanket covering his body, Viktor breathed in, forcing his sore muscles to relax ever so slightly and sighed, staring at the ceiling.

This was just another day in paradise.

Stepping out of his room felt like ridding himself of a heavy cloak: after all, residence here could easily be tolerated if he busied himself enough. Clad in just a long white shirt, he limped to the chair where he had left his braces the day before. For some reason, he had not been able to find the usual inner dedication that had always held his mind and body together for years - as easily as an afterthought – for him to simply endure wearing them both for the night. A somewhat regrettable choice now that he could not sense his leg at all, yet felt every single screw fused along his spine as if it was his first day having them.

He had felt restless last night. More so than usual. The pain had seemed more acute, the fatigue more relentless too. Solitude, his punishment, had seemed less legitimate for a faint, weak moment, as the softness of the sheets and the blanket had warmed his skin and drunk his tears.

Resilience could ever go on for so long.

It felt like he had been here for years now, drifting between consciousness and despair, between night and day, ever unmoving, forcing himself to ignore the slight shifts of his environment and of his heart. But last night, he had grown anxious for some unknown reason, aware of a crackle in the air behind his neck, a familiar smell floating in the wind. He’d found himself eyeing the horizon in search of something he couldn’t fully identify – a high tower flashing light, a blue spark waltzing in the air. A snowstorm coming his way, perhaps.

For a second, it had been a scratch, a buried sentiment clawing its way out of his chest, there, just below the ribcage. He could have sworn he’d tasted blood, it had been warm and flowing up his esophagus, covering his tongue – and this blood was not his own. The sensation had gone in a blink, but the taste had remained all night, somehow getting spicier in the darkest hour.

It merely was solitude. The thought came a little late but eased his anxiety. The same way a door stops the smoke but, yes.

Nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change anymore.

He would wake up, put on some pants and adjust the braces a little tighter around his body. Sometimes a little too much, just enough to feel it at any moment of the day. He’d barely eat anything, then go out into the gardens, taking the orchard's direction. He would pick ripe fruits, set aside the most damaged ones for himself, and would not fail to spot every caterpillar and every new cocoon formed in the trees. He would gather whole baskets of tree leaves and spread them out under the immense courtyard behind his little stone house before spending hours picking up silkworms from the entirety of the gardens and placing them there, dozens by dozens. He would then tend to the flowers, mourning the dying ones and cutting them off with compassion. He would gather some bouquets, clean some raw silk, take a couple of books and make his way further on the road carrying his little chariot full of goods by himself. He’d stop by each broken house, listen to the whispers. Sometimes he’d go to the black house and let ghosts spit on him.

Never a dull day, Heimerdinger would say.

To the people in this place, Viktor stood out as the worst ghost of them all.

The nights – the nights – were more difficult, for some reason. He would try to eat something and read for a moment but it never took long before it all felt wrong again. There was no moonlight, and the stars were red. The whispers turned meaner. The voices in his head were long gone but the saddest one had remained and he’d listen without a complaint. Tired, he would map out every flaw of the house, inside and out, and never fix a single one of them. Sometimes he would take a knife and contemplate the blade - not as sharp as a scalpel but, eh. And he would draw a rune out of spite, before standing up and crawling into his bed, a shivering mess of bloody limbs and sheets.

Last night though, he let the front door of the house open, which was something that never occurred. He’d felt weak, and had hoped that someone would appear on the porch.

This was the way his time here went; each day a little easier, each day a little heavier.

So this morning, once he had put on a pair of pants and tightened each strap around his knee, once he had armed himself with the ones that were crushing his ribs, Viktor did not linger over the shadow that seemed to have collapsed on said porch. He sighed, his frail fingers holding a glass of water to his lips, and he stepped outside leaning on his crutch.

The sunlight felt a little warmer than the day before, the colors less hollow – the view over the endless gardens was almost vibrant. It made Viktor blink as he processed the new shine of the hanging fruits, and the wider bloom of the flowers. Looking down, he leaned a little harder on the wood under his feet.

“Hmm.”

The creaking sound it made every morning as he set foot on it never came.

He eyed the man that sat on the floor, slumped against the wall near the door, hands loosely holding the handle of a hammer that would be of no use here, and turned away, trying to ignore him a little longer although the snores were difficult to avoid from that close.

Viktor focused on the dirt being washed away by the morning wind.

It did not change a thing.

It did not. Could not.

It was merely another day in paradise.

Straightening up with a tired sigh, he gave a light tap with his crutch against a heavy dirty boot. This only earned him a grunt that sounded more animal than human.

What a delicate being, he thought, arching an eyebrow.

For a moment there, Viktor thought about letting the man sleep and starting to walk to never even stop. But the proof that he was a weak man was laying on the ground.

So he struck a harder hit this time in the calf of the newcomer who woke up with a start, dropping the hammer that fell heavily next to him in a cloud of dust.

The wild looking intruder breathed loudly and looked up at him.

“Fuck,” said Jayce. “You scared the shit out of me.” He let himself fall back against the wall, running a big hand through his thick, messy hair. He closed his eyes for a second then stared at Viktor for another one, the corner of his mouth twitching in a faint, stupid smile. “I thought we were dead. Thought I’d never get to see that look on your face again. But you can’t be dead and look so annoyed already, Viktor. Right?”

Viktor insisted on sighing once more, turned on his heels and headed back into the house.

It does not change a thing.

_____

It took Jayce about fifteen minutes to get up and drag himself over to the table Viktor was sitting at. He had already downed three more glasses of water, hoping it would turn into hexane at best, perhaps ethanol at worst. The rich sugary taste of the fruits he had picked the day before almost numbed his synaptic connections as every sensation lied a little harder to his brain since he had laid eyes on Jayce.

Jayce had abandoned his cursed hammer outside, probably feeling better for it, although the weight he carried on his shoulders surely had nothing to do with it. He leaned over the plate of bread and purple fruit Viktor had set out for him. Poor choice of color, Viktor realized with chagrin. But Jayce didn't hesitate and crashed into the empty chair, wolfing down his food like a starving dog.

Viktor watched him incredulously. But we are dead, Jayce. Feeding yourself is not a necessity anymore. Why would you force yourself to act so… alive?

He did not ask anything though.

He did not utter a word.

Ever since Jayce had appeared, the air had grown a little hot, the sunbeams entered the house from all sides and the room looked bigger.

But Viktor felt even smaller.

Weaker.

Once Jayce had swallowed the last slice in his plate, his gaze landed on his host. “You’ve kept your long hair. But your eyes look like honey liquor again.”

Viktor frowned. “I did not keep anything. I am… as I was. As I’ve always been.”

His eyes fell on his leg stretched out in front of him under the table.

“Why are you here, Jayce?”

Jayce blinked then smiled, a thin layer of juice coating his lips, making them shine.

“You called me.”

Viktor’s fists whitened on his lap.

“I did not.”

“But you did, Viktor!” Jayce exclaimed way too enthusiastically for a dead man, making Viktor flinch as he clapped his hands on the table. “I’ve been looking for you! Ever since we- and I was- I don’t know, floating around. Felt like swimming for days! But then I heard you and I saw the house. You finally let the door open!”

Jayce's hands were huge, blackened and reddened with dirt and ash and blood. Everything looked small and fragile next to them – both breakable and fixable. They were ridiculous, those hands. Those blacksmith's hands that were certainly covered in calluses. They must have been hard, solid. Warm, maybe.

A shiver ran down Viktor's spine. He should not keep sitting there.

“It was a mistake,” he said softly, grabbing his crutch and hauling himself up.

He focused on his own bony hands, on the ligaments and muscles, forcing them into familiarity, into comfort. The cane was familiar – if uncomfortable. He knew, somewhere deep in his consciousness, what his hands really wanted to do to Jayce, so he needed to keep them busy.

“What was? Letting me in?” Jayce asked roughly, also standing up.

Viktor’s mouth was a thin line. The hole in his chest decided it felt like beating harder today. “Letting you in, yes.”

Jayce threw him a distraught look, a hurt look, eyes wide.

“I am a mistake?”

Unbearable. Viktor breathed out, hands shaking. How could this be happening? How was his mind that cruel? Was this his true punishment?

“You called me,” Jayce said again, voice wavering and soft. As if talking to a frightened animal. And perhaps he was. “You call me every night, when you sleep.”

“I did not sleep last night,” Viktor said stubbornly though the fatigue hit him all at once.

“I know,” Jayce murmured, getting closer. “That’s when you call me the loudest.”

“I did not call-“

“You’re calling me now,” Jayce persisted, the warmth of his body getting to Viktor’s senses. “All you do is calling me, Viktor. All the time, it’s like. A song. Sometimes it’s just screams. But I’m here now. Within, and without. Together, remember?”

Viktor gasped at the overwhelming sensation that… Jayce was a name that felt like it was the only name he had ever had.

Jayce pinned Viktor with an imploring look for a moment longer before resolving himself not to come any closer. The grime and sweat on his tanned skin stood in stark contrast to the white stone of the home.

Viktor let himself breathe again, forced himself to straighten up gradually, to calm the drum and the song in his chest. He did not want to hear it; it was there, but he did not have to acknowledge it.

Instead of doing so, he eventually opened his mouth. “I have work to do. You will find a well behind the house and clean clothes on the line. You do not smell good.”

As Viktor walked away, Jayce inquired, “Where are you going?”

“I,” said Viktor, standing as tall as a man with a broken spine could stand, “have work to do, Councilor Talis.”

_____

Viktor found that many of the fruits were perfectly ripe, or at least more than usual. Although he did not know their species or their names, he had learned to study their different qualities and their life cycle here. He had also learned to recognize them by taste alone, until today. The changes could be perceived in precise details. Fruits slightly heavier than usual, aromas more developed than the day before, insects buzzing more distinctly.

It was fine. These were small changes.

He could tolerate them.

When Jayce reappeared on the porch half an hour later, Viktor didn't have to let his eyes wander too long over his figure to notice that he was cleaner. His skin reflected the ambient light instead of smothering it dully, and he had shed his dirty, dark clothes, save for his boots, in favor of a white shirt and linen pants. A bit too tight.

Obviously.

Jayce looked out over the gardens, taking in the endless expanse of fields bursting with flowers and fruit. The landscape was nothing like the one they had ever known around Piltover, not even in the confines of Zaun. In fact, this place was unlike anything else.

Earlier, at the end, or… at the beginning, Viktor was not sure yet, he had woken up in the middle of a flower field, butterflies sleeping all over his bad leg and his upper body, barely fluttering in his wake. He had relaxed the nerves in his hands for they were painful and sore, his fingers somehow tightly wrapped around a blanket. Jayce’s blanket. He had found the house and started to explore, and care for the flora. He had not stopped ever since that day. Viktor made a point of taking care of the world around him, from dawn to dusk. The distraction was necessary, the work a small price to pay.

With his hands in the bushes, Viktor was searching for berries. Sitting in the soft grass, he heard Jayce approach, and turned to look at him once he was close enough. The white shirt made the uncovered expanse of Jayce’s chest look golden.

“Are they all edible?” Jayce asked.

“They are.” Viktor will not admit eating the nastiest looking ones in the hope of getting poisoned in the early days. Throwing the tiny berries in a basket, Viktor got a hold of his crutch and tried to stand up. One of Jayce's big paws slipped under his arm and pulled him up ever so gently. Viktor tried not to pout like a kid. “And you’re helping.”

“I am?”

“Unless you’re leaving, yes.”

Jayce stared at him for a while, before turning his head towards the fields.

“Ripe fruit only in the cart,” Viktor simply said, heading for the next bushes. “There is a basket for misshapen.”

Jayce nodded without looking at him, already focused on the next tree of purple peaches, the same he ate earlier.

As they advanced past each tree, they were soon greeted by the small herd of Poros that roamed the fields. They were wild creatures, usually tiny white balls of fur with two small horns - occasionally one or two with a sandy coat would appear. They liked fruit but were not big, agile, or clever enough to reach it, so they pursued Viktor in silence, feasting on the ones he left lying in the grass or those he accidentally stepped on.

He caught Jayce trailing behind, smiling down at the dozen of tiny animals that were sniffing him curiously. He offered a red berry to the smallest, bravest of them, before looking at Viktor, a huge smile plastered on his stupid face.

“They look like little Heimerdingers!”

Viktor couldn't help but smile back, even if faintly. The sight was quite ridiculous. Like a bear inviting his own fleas on himself.

“These are Poros. They’re harmless gluttons.”

“They’re cute.”

Cute. No. No, Viktor did not think so. They would come crying at night at Viktor’s door when they found themselves too lazy to survive on their own.

“You have seen them before,” Viktor revealed before turning away and getting back to his work. “One of them accompanied Professor Heimerdinger wherever he went.”

“Ha! That’s right.”

Jayce talked an awful lot of nonsense to the Poros after that, petting them instead of filling his cart. Viktor even suspected that he discreetly emptied it to fill the tireless stomachs of the hairy parasites.

The little critters were purring. It was the first time Viktor even heard them do that.

Glancing behind, Viktor found Jayce covered with Poros. They seemed tinier than ever, climbing all over the imposing figure of the Piltovian.

They are going to eat him alive, Viktor thought fondly. Then frowned. Dead. They’re going to eat him dead.

The reality of what was truly happening got to him like whiplash and he turned away from the scene, forcing himself to find his senses back and return to his work. He did not have time to idle all because of Jayce’s presence. It was not a task for today, not even perhaps for tomorrow. Theories would soon be proven that Viktor was still dreaming, and that Jayce would disappear with daylight, leaving him alone in the night.

He did not need one more Poro, let alone that big.

Tired of the dried and sticky sugar on his fingers, Viktor wiped his hands in the fresh grass and walked away from the groves to reach an area without trees, where only flowers reigned. His lungs were lacking and his vertebrae bothered him, as if they wanted to extricate themselves from his body.

Unpleasant.

He said nothing but knew that Jayce would not fail to follow him.

Yes. Jayce had followed him everywhere so far.

And wasn’t it the most peculiar truth.

Hmm.

Which was the reason why Viktor liked a lie - this lie could not be anything else. Just a lie. Urgent, and safe.

Unspoken.

Jayce seemed to have accepted the silence between them. He got closer with a few steps but still stood away from Viktor when the latter did his utmost to take care of his flowers and pick up some in order to weave huge bouquets.

Silence was a welcomed thing. It allowed Viktor to not think too much, to not feel a little more.

For a while.

“I must admit,” Jayce ends up saying, brushing a bunch of brown and burgundy flowers, the gesture curious and tender. “This is not exactly how I imagined the afterlife to go.”

Viktor hummed, getting hold of a stem as long as his crutch – the thing was crowned with a magnificent species of moon-white orchid. One of the Poros had strayed from the herd and was chirping at Jayce’s feet, who reached down to scratch its head. On second thought, many similarities could certainly be studied between the two and Viktor wondered if he could effectively demonstrate that Jayce was more a massive furball rather than a man.

“Yeah. I imagined emptiness, of course,” Jayce said. “A lot of quiet. A lot of guilt. Despair. Solitude. Me, blowing a hole in your chest over and over, and over. Sometimes, I even imagined waking up next to you, holding you and never letting go.”

Viktor dropped the orchid.

“I didn’t picture your hair like that though. Still long, still white,” Jayce conceded softly, distractedly picking up the orchid and staring at it, as if he was seeing something else entirely. “I don’t know why. It suits you.”

He held the flower back to Viktor, eyes awfully kind and smiling like a shy little boy. Viktor wished to turn his back on him and start walking, walking in the opposite direction without ever coming to a halt, without ever looking back. But all the stars must have had whispered to themselves to leave the sky and gather in Jayce's eyes, for certain full of hope at the idea of filling up a new galaxy.

And Viktor lost himself in search of the first constellation to map down.

They were not - had never been – like that… before.

He and Jayce.

They had been close. Had shared creations and laughs. Sometimes the same space. The same pen. The same drink. Viktor distantly remembered placing his mouth on the exact spot Jayce had placed his own on a glass a moment earlier. They had been close, yes, but had never merged.

There had been two whole different cities between them, too many walls Viktor had always been careful to raise, some higher than his dreams. Those had been founded on unstable ground, too, in the swamp of self-disgust Viktor still mellowed in.

The thing was… that Viktor had been hungry, so damn hungry, when Jayce had always been… ambitious. And there laid the roots of their differences.

He had turned bitter, and Jayce hopeful. He had grown weak, and Jayce strong. He had always been no one. And Jayce had always been everything.

They had been oil and water, close in texture but impossible to blend together.

And now, as Viktor took the orchid from Jayce’s warm hand, he wondered how… how… the water could have grown that boiling hot, to the point of inexplicably being on the verge of igniting the oil.

Not a word was to be spoken after this.

Viktor returned to tend to his flowers, sometimes caught Jayce watching him, and Jayce sometimes caught Viktor watching him too. Jayce surprisingly chose the same flowers Viktor gathered for his bouquets, as if he understood exactly what they were for and how much they meant for Viktor.

Sometimes, they walked and found themselves accidentally leaning towards each other, slightly bumping shoulders or brushing hands, and they looked at each other for second before putting a reasonable amount of space back between them. Viktor did not become hyper-aware of Jayce’s body heat.

He did not.

_____

Viktor leaned carefully over the bushes full of thorns, making sure not to fold his leg or bend his back too much. What a gardener he was, really, unable to move with dignity between the plants.

Half a man, forever.

Incomplete. Unevolving.

He spotted the silkworms immediately, the little things wiggling hungrily between already well-chewed leaves, and began to harvest them, gently placing them in an empty basket.

Jayce observed him for a while, puzzled.

“What do you do with them?”

Viktor winced.

What I should have always done to myself.

_____

Silkworms were everywhere in the fields. Sometimes, when he was sitting near a pond or leaning against a tree for a good while, Viktor swore he could hear them munching, peacefully unaware of the world around them and eating themselves to sleep. They were not particularly pretty, their body plain white and big enough to fit in Viktor’s palm. Their skin reminded him of hairless rats too. So, not pretty.

But Viktor thought they were quite glorious.

Munching, then weaving their little silky bed around them, then going to sleep, dreaming. Waiting for their body to grow stronger, thicker, prettier. Waiting for nature to fix their queer and flawed first form, waiting for their flesh to crack open, for their dreams to crawl out of their exoskeleton. To fly away.

Their… evolution both pained and rejoiced Viktor, who was all too aware of their luck, and his failure.

He would let some cocoons in the wild, allow a few moths to flap their wings and listen to the wind singing for them; but he also killed most of them before they were even born, harvesting the cocoons, drowning them in boiling water, stealing the silk as he separated and rolled the strands on the reel, which left the unformed larvae naked and dead at the bottom of the bowl of water.

He ached for them but thanked them gracefully as he cleaned, smoothed and dyed the silk for days afterwards.

Jayce would understand. And he would surely ache for them too.

_____

“Take the cart.”

Jayce obeyed, his big arms pulling the heavy thing behind him like it was nothing on the cleared path they’d been walking on for a few minutes now, further up the gardens. Viktor marched on, slowly but steadily, one hand on his crutch, the other holding a big basket filled with the flowers they had collected all morning, heavily resting against his good hip.

The rotten part of Viktor hoped for Jayce to complain, to grow annoyed at Viktor’s pace and lose patience. Viktor deserved any mean look Jayce would want to throw his way, expected Jayce to snap and speak vicious things. That was what Viktor expected from his own mind, after all.

But Jayce showed no sign of any sort of spite or impatience, and Viktor wondered when it would come then.

Would Jayce wrap his hand around Viktor’s neck and squeeze, just like that? Would the deceiving bones break in a second or resist till the count of three? Would Viktor’s head roll back in relief, finally detached from this abhorrent body?

Viktor closed his eyes, blood singing in his ears. Would Jayce be inclined to dig a new hole in Viktor’s chest, with only his nails this time, handfuls of scarlet, spoiled flesh?

Hmm. Viktor would let him.

Jayce looked wider, wilder even. He could have torn him apart in a blink, undoubtedly.

Despite the scars and the weight of time written all over his face, Jayce still appeared to be young. The mad aura that had surrounded him when he had struck Salo then Viktor seemed to have… vanished.

Now, his body caught the light and reflected it all around him. Changes were: he was healthy and each time he took a step, the air and the flowers and the colors hummed with delight, as if his mere presence had fixed the ill little breeze Viktor had known since he had arrived in this place. Jayce could fix a lot of things.

And, ironically, Viktor could destroy just as much.

The thing was, he could not make up his mind over which one of them would come out on top were they to explore such a scenario.

“Do not speak,” Viktor instructed as they approached the ruins of a little house. “They will be wary of… us. Whatever we are.”

“Who?”

“And please. Try to be a less… radiant.”

Jayce stopped, a wrinkle settling between his eyebrows.

“What? What are you talking about? All I’ve done so far is follow-“

“Stop speaking, Jayce.”

“But Viktor-“

Viktor threw him a look above his shoulder. Jayce snapped his mouth shut and did not look happy about it. Still, he did not open it again.

Good Poro, Viktor thought, amused, continuing his way.

Quietly, and with reverence, Viktor walked to the broken door of the broken house. Everything was made of a white dull material; even the people. There were two of them here, faceless humanoids who stayed hidden behind a wall. Jayce gasped when he saw them – they were exactly as Viktor had made them. But… they were afraid of him, and obviously endowed with a mind of their own.

But still faceless.

And rightfully terrified.

Viktor barely looked at them as he disposed some flowers on the steps leading to the door. He barely looked at Jayce as he chose different fruits and placed them near the flowers.

Whispers began to whistle in the wind. Aggressive. Bedeviled.

Viktor did not speak their tongue but understood every curse that reached his bones.

Once he was done, he made a sign, prompting Jayce to pursue their way.

Jayce did not open his mouth at all as they brought flowers and fruits to the other houses and as the whispers turned into growling thunder.

Viktor could not express how thankful he was for it.

_____

They were sitting by a small stream of gold water when Jayce broke the silence.

“You think the houses are graves, do you? That you’re the one haunting them, not the other way around?”

Viktor kept his eyes on the narrow river, focusing on the chanting flow.

“You make them offerings. Bring flowers to their bed of stone. Is it all for you or for them?”

Viktor closed his eyes. “What difference does it make?” he asked, a hand running down his face. “They are here. I am here with them.”

The rustling of Jayce’s clothes made Viktor look at him. Jayce was now sitting very close to him, eyes begging for something.

“Viktor. This place does not have to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like your personal hell or whatever you’ve made of it.”

Viktor felt his face turn cold.

“If you do not like it, you are welcome to leave,” he mumbled.

He hated how Jayce flinched at his words.

“Viktor. I’m here too. Let me fix it, please.”

“I don’t want to be fixed,” Viktor murmured, hollow.

“And you don’t need to be,” Jayce smiled kindly. “But I already told you that.”

Viktor looked away, the tip of his ears burning.

“I was talking about this place. It’s a nice-looking place, all in all,” Jayce assessed, looking around. “But we all deserve better. You included. Especially you.”

_____

In a few minutes, they would reach the agglomerated houses Viktor called the town. A bit more of faceless people. A dark house, too. And a library, for some reason.

“What do you think happened to the rune?”, Viktor inquired then, for he had wondered. “To the Hexcore?”

Jayce stumbled over a non-existent rock right then.

“Fuck!” he grumbled viciously, which had Viktor turn around in surprise. “Don’t ever talk to me about that damn thing!”

Viktor’s eyebrow shot up.

“I suppose you haven’t thought about it, then,” he spoke, mostly to himself for Jayce was getting… quite agitated.

“I swear, if I could burn it, or swallow it, or step on it and never hear from it ever again, I would gladly do so! The thing couldn’t help but corrupt you without even-“

“I corrupted it first, Jayce,” Viktor merely said, fully aware of every single way he failed their dream.

“-well, we’ll never know that. If there was any type of corruption, it was chemical first and all due to that bloody Shimmer! Things happened their own way but whatever did happen, our intentions were always good even if ill-advised, which is not the case for that stupid thing!”

All Viktor could do as Jayce babbled nonsense and started walking ahead of him, was blink in utter confusion.

“I would rip it apart with my teeth even if it meant ending up toothless for the rest of eternity-“

Jayce had chosen denial, evidently. But Viktor was there to remember their mistakes. Which, well, were mostly his anyway.

So, Viktor indulged him. Jayce sounded like a petulant child and Viktor watched more than he listened, amused by his partner’s antics more than anything.

Angry Poro, he smiled to himself taking a step forward.

_____

After that, it became quite impossible for Viktor to shut Jayce up again.

_____

PART II

It wasn’t difficult for Jayce to admit that he appreciated silence and tranquility more than he had ever appreciated them during his lifetime. Hell, whatever room he might have stumbled in and ended up reaching a point where he found himself noticing no one was running their mouth always meant he was safe and home – meant he was in the lab or in his room – meant he was close to Viktor.

So, this place, this afterlife? With Viktor? It felt right.

It felt like home.

Well. Even though a little redecorating wouldn’t hurt.

And he wasn’t the type to ask for permission to change the world anymore.

So he started as soon as he and Viktor entered the town.

They were of one mind, now, even if Viktor denied it and kept the walls well-anchored around his consciousness. Fine. Whatever. Jayce would tear them all apart with his bare hands if he had too. This place would be theirs, entirely, and Viktor won’t wander like a ghost in his own mind anymore. Not on Jayce’s watch.

After all, they were here for a little peace. For a little magic of theirs. Science-less, void of technology. Only pure, raw magic radiating from their very soul. Because they were together.

“You’ve been walking barefoot all day,” Jayce pointed out as they took a seat on a dusty terrace. “Doesn’t it hurt?”

Viktor barely reacted, wincing as he let himself fall back in the chair.

“Everything hurts.”

Jayce sighed through his nose. “Right.”

That owed him a blank side-eye.

Which, just frankly amused him because Viktor looked less sharp-edged here. Maybe it was the long hair, the sad eyes, the tired mouth.

He looked attainable, if such a thing could be said of such a distant man. Yeah, he seemed… within reach. Less dispassionate about the moment he lived in.

Less dispassionate about Jayce.

It had been a mask all along, that withdrawn aseptic way of dealing with people and with himself, Jayce had always been aware of it, but now? Now, Viktor… was alone with Jayce, forever, and he wasn’t fighting it quite as hard as Jayce expected. He’d given in, had opened the door.

He tolerated him there, in his space, but Jayce intended to crawl all the way up, to the source of the song that called for him.

Affection was a sweet word for it, but.

I’ll tear the real feeling from your throat myself if I have to, Viktor.

_____

The terrace was attached to a library. Of course, even in death, there would be books. Ironically, Viktor wasn’t the kind to refuse himself a bit of pleasure through what he called his punishment.

“What now?” Jayce asked, gazing at the half-standing buildings around them and already making plans of renovation. No way he was going to leave ruin proliferate; he’d build a home and the ghosts were going to love it.

Viktor stayed silent. His eyes had landed on a house, very different from the others. For it was pitch black and didn’t seem to hide any faceless body.

About that…

Jayce pictured laughing kids running around the streets, eyes bright and full of mischief. How much better it’d be to have a bunch of kids playing around such a place? As soon as he thought about it, giggling figures sprinted by the table they were sitting at.

Jayce sighed. Faceless still.

Viktor’s desire to feel guilty seemed hard to overpower, but hey, at least someone was laughing.

Jayce watched carefully as Viktor got out of his stupor to stare with narrowed eyes as a faceless kid ran past him. The child came back with a flower, giggling as he showed it to Viktor. Viktor’s elegant fingers, - long, and pale, and skin -, slowly reached for it, timidly even, but astir energy emanated from the kid and Viktor moved too cautiously. In the blink of an eye, the kid had placed the white flower behind Viktor’s ear and run back to his friends who were cheering.

Viktor’s eyes fluttered for a few seconds, his hand still frozen in the air. Jayce grinned, watching Viktor’s lip quiver.

All a mask.

Self-inflicted torture could ever go on for so long.

Viktor’s eyes watered and found Jayce’s.

“What have you done?”

It might have rung wrong to anyone else, like an accusation, but the subtle awe laced at the back of Viktor’s thick accent definitely swayed in Jayce’s direction. He looked away, gazing at the children racing and dancing carelessly. Once it’ll be all over, when the place will be nothing but radiant, Jayce would feel everything that lived within Viktor – the good, the bad, the beauty of it all. And Viktor would feel Jayce too. Just like when they had embraced and shared memories and astral bodies, just like when they had seen everything and time had meant nothing.

They were together, they were together-

“I’m lighting up your world,” Jayce smiled.

A faceless body shyly appeared at the corner of a house, lulled in by the kids’ laughter.

No one had to be afraid, or lonely, anymore.

The smallest kid of the group walked up to Jayce, tilting her head. Long blue hair fell over her frail shoulder, had appeared out of nowhere, like a glitch, and Jayce heard Viktor gasp as a face carved itself out for a second before vanishing again.

“I feel you…” Viktor whispered, incredulous. “You are… scratching, at the back of my mind.”

Offering him a grin, Jayce shrugged, the child playing with her hair next to him.

“You let me in, Viktor. I’m not leaving you ever again.”

Stroking the petals of the flower in his hair, Viktor looked more exhausted than ever. Which was a good thing, for now. This way, Jayce could operate with more efficiency on the place around them, on Viktor's ghosts. The kid then focused on Viktor, and Viktor stared back at her. He stared at her blue hair, and cried behind a small smile when her face broke free again and didn't go away this time. She had big blue eyes, and a cheeky smile, like powder ready to flare up. She ran off then, and the kids gawked at her features.

Viktor’s voice was awfully quiet when he spoke again.

“You are… the most curious man I have ever met, Jayce Talis.”

Jayce snorted. “You’re one to talk,” he countered just as softly.

_____

The pitch-black house was an abomination.

Jayce glared at it. This one was not used as a tomb but as a prison. The ghosts there knew how to speak and were able to curse through the bars that trapped them in. Whispers weren’t theirs for they shrieked and roared and wailed.

Jayce did not know what to do with himself when Viktor began to walk to the main door. A thick ink similar to petroleum flowed down the walls, oozing like vice over a sinner's skin.

Calling after Viktor didn’t dissuade him to march on. An icy chill licked at Jayce’s spine when a figure appeared behind the gate. Why, why, did that one have to have a face?

Purple flesh and golden bones.

Sickly pearly eyes.

Mouth twisted in a snarl.

“Viktor!” Jayce called firmly, dread settling against his ribs, blood turning cold.

And Viktor cried, as the Herald spoke horrors only Viktor could hear, so Jayce raced to him and caught his wrist in his hand, pulling him hard and away from the monster and caging him in his arms, against his chest, against his heart-

“Viktor-”

Jayce held him close for eons, whispering Viktor’s name like a lullaby as the smaller man hid his sobs in the crook of Jayce’s neck.

“You’re safe, Viktor, I’m here- I’ll never let anyone, anything touch you again, I swear, I’m here-”

One arm secured around Viktor’s small waist, his other hand at the back of his head, Jayce felt every single tear and tremor as if they were his own.

_____

They began their journey back under the withering light of the… sun? Though there was none. The light was just… there, without any real source. That said, Jayce ended up persuading himself that he could notice a very faint, distinguishable halo wherever Viktor went. A mute, charming soft glow, similar to that of the moon. Said thing didn’t exist here either.

Gazing up, all Jayce could see was endless nothingness, inhabited by thousands of… stars, similar to drops of blood.

Right.

Turning his attention back to the path they were walking on, Jayce glanced at the frail figure of his traveling companion, wandering like a condemned man toward the gallows. No sound had come out of his mouth since he’d collapsed into Jayce's arms, no movement except that of walking. Never did he turn to Jayce, not even for a second, if only to make sure he was still there, following him.

Jayce didn’t blame him. He understood.

Instead, he took advantage of their slow pace to smile at each faceless ghost, sometimes leaving his cart to go and meet them. He greeted them kindly, offered them the remaining fruit, and studied the interiors of the tattered buildings. Still unsure of his abilities in such a place, Jayce simply cared for the front doors of every single house, and when he set off again, each door was complete, easy to open and close – and, there, no malice, no curse to be heard from the whispers anymore.

When they arrived at Viktor’s house, the night had long since fallen over the fields.

It was time for their hike to end, as Viktor was bending dangerously towards the ground and his crutch itself seemed to be shaking. He wouldn't have tolerated any sort of help from Jayce, much less a single remark. So, Jayce simply watched him, his heart aching for him.

Viktor slumped down in the same chair he’d sat in earlier that day as Jayce put the cart away. He tore off his boots after hesitating to step through the doorway, and squinted to better make out the shapes inside the house.

He remembered the pack of matches and the candles on the table, went looking for them.

There was a weight in the air, yet another unspoken conversation hanging like smoke behind a closed door. It seemed that every single fucking thing that was important for either Viktor or him had always been left unspoken.

Dripping with feelings, and sentiments.

Science, they could talk about for hours.

But that goddamn unspoken kingdom’s frontier they’d been toeing forever was, indeed, a hell of a well-guarded frontier.

Who would be the first to ring the alarm?

_____

Later - much, much later - Viktor’s spiraling came to an end and Jayce watched as his partner came back to him.

“What are you looking at?” Viktor rasped, leaning over the table.

Jayce tilted his head. “You. I’m looking at you.”

“Hmm. Don’t do it.”

“You’re the only interesting thing to look at in this place,” Jayce shrugged, now convinced that some form of light emanated from Viktor’s body in the darkness. “You made sure of that. Fields of void, swarming caterpillars, blood-colored stars? Really, Viktor?”

“I did not make anything,” Viktor’s small voice got swallowed by the tiny flame that sat between them.

“Viktor. Stop lying to yourself. Please.”

His mouth twitched, depreciative.

“I do not want to hear what you want to say to me,” Viktor pleaded, turning away from Jayce. “I do not need your… cajoling. I did not need you here.”

Jayce tried to ignore the hurt curling up in his chest, found himself succeeding by focusing on the color of Viktor’s skin.

“What about now?” Jayce pressed. “Do you need me now?”

And this was the most vulnerable question he’d ever asked in his life. Or, non-life. Whatever.

A shiver ran its course down Viktor’s throat. Jayce saw it. Of course he saw it. He even felt it. He felt the song of his name, in a Viktorian hymn. Yes. Yes, this was all he yearned for-

“Jayce,” Viktor pleaded again, eyes imploring. “Don’t. Please?”

Jayce sighed harshly through his nose. Then, all the tension in his body went away in a heartbeat. Fine. Unspoken, it was. Always. Fucking. Unspoken. He could do it. He could bear it a little longer.

So he rose up, padding away towards what looked like the kitchen.

“I’ll make us something to eat,” he grumbled, exploring the space. Soon, he frowned at the shelves. Candied fruits, jam, syrup, dried fruits, marmalade. “Please, tell me you have something other than fruit in that house.”

Jayce didn’t expect any answer as he kept stumbling upon empty things, so when Viktor’s voice fell in the room, it felt like a crashing wave.

“I apologize. I do not think there is any roasted Poro left.”

Horrified, Jayce whipped around to gape at the other man. He couldn’t possibly have heard that right.

“Roasted what?”

“Hmm. Luscious meat, very good. You could always catch one for tonight though.”

“Roasted?” Jayce definitely wasn’t proud of the way a grown man like him sounded so choked-up right now.

Viktor merely smiled without even looking at him and busied himself lighting the fireplace.

“Jayce, we are dead. You do not need to eat anything if you think about it. What you feel is simply a remnant of what you could have felt when you were alive. Your mind is fooling you.”

Jayce frowned again. Well, the bastard had fooled him first.

“I want to eat something,” Jayce stood firm, ignoring the fact that he sounded, for the umpteenth time today, like a child.

“It’ll go away.”

Emotion crashing with reason.

Jayce refused to let go of habits only living people could enjoy. He also refused to let Viktor forget about these habits.

So he thought about it. Really hard.

He thought about the fresh air filling his lungs after a whole night spent behind the closed doors of their lab. He thought about the noise of the city, the clamors of the streets, the thud of Viktor’s crutch on the pavement. He thought about the ink under Viktor’s nails, and the oil smeared on his forearms. About the buzzing of the Hexcore and the humming of Viktor’s ideas. About the cold smell of his sweat and his medicine, the rare sight of his collarbone, immaculate, under the shirt he would unbutton late at night. Jayce thought about the sun grazing Viktor’s skin on their way to a bar. He thought about Viktor’s accent, thick with sarcasm and smooth mockery, and about his mouth kissing the edge of a glass as he swallowed his drink. He thought-

And two plates full of their favorite meals, from that restaurant near the Academy, appeared on the table.

Viktor stared at it, at first, and Jayce heard the reeling of his mind. Though eventually, he gave in. The effect of the first bite was immediate and it made Jayce grin in victory.

See. I’ll give you roasted Poro, he thought fondly. Idiot.

_____

“You sleep on the chair,” Viktor said, taking their plates to the sink.

“Oh, so now we sleep?” Jayce crossed his arms, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “I thought this was all delusional remnants of what we felt when we were alive.”

Viktor hummed, again. A single, unique note melody that Jayce would probably never tire of. As it dawned on him that he was being ignored once more today, Jayce got up on his feet and held his arm out to reach out for Viktor, but he missed miserably and ran his hand through his hair to soothe his nerves. Viktor was about to disappear in what looked like the only bedroom of the house.

“What, is that it?” he huffed, desperate for one more moment. “We go to sleep and do it all over again tomorrow?”

Viktor halted his step, half in the shadows.

His posture, though damaged, was nothing short of regal. The evident weight over his shoulders gave him an obvious presence, his dignity manipulated his gestures as if at the end of elegant threads. It struck Jayce like lightning then. Viktor looked magnificent, and this was so not the first time the thought got to him.

“If you have anything better to do. Please, do.”

Viktor’s voice rolled down Jayce’s spine like warm honey. Something better to do? Oh, Jayce sure had a couple of ideas.

“Vik-” he spoke before even thinking about it.

“On the chair, Jayce.”

When the door closed, Jayce did not walk up to it like a stray dog craving attention, neither did he breathe against the wood like a madman in search of reason.

He spent the night on the porch, glaring at any star that refused to turn white under his stare.

And he listened to the song, which resonated awfully loud tonight, unbearably blended with screams.

Jayce sighed.

Neither of them would be sleeping then.

_____

When the morning light came in, another unspoken thing floated around: it involved two men and a bedroom door, and yet, nothing had been done about it.

Jayce had busied himself with trying to conjure dark shirts that would suit him better and not be mixed with Viktor’s.

“That is a whole lot of shirts,” Viktor had commented when stepping foot on the porch.

“Yeah, well. Have you heard me complain about that whole lot of silkworms, Viktor?” Jayce had answered nonsensically, grumbling to himself as he’d made his way to the well for fresh water.

_____

Around midday, while Viktor inspected the insects’ state, Jayce chose to explore the orchard and found himself standing in front of one Sky Young.

Seeing a face that was not Viktor’s troubled him for a while and Jayce got quickly embarrassed to admit that he wasn't listening to a word the young woman was saying to him, too focused on searching for the detail that would prove she wasn't real.

He never quite found it.

“Viktor’s guilt lives through me,” she said, unnerved. “So, I’m still here, hovering. But he won’t look at me anymore.”

“You’re a ghost,” Jayce stated, brow furrowing. “You can’t be real.”

She completely ignored him as she went on.

“He’s never looked at me the way he looks at you.”

The sadness in her voice forced him to look harder, and Jayce ended up catching sight of it.

The purple-ish glint, right there, behind her pupils. Very faint, unmistakably dead.

Dying magic, aimlessly drifting, incapable of reviving the flame.

And with that, she went back to wandering again. Jayce watched her wordlessly disappear behind the trees. He felt no pity for whatever she was.

The ghosts and demons that circled Viktor’s consciousness presented themselves in such multiple forms of pain and guilt, each so intricate and detailed that it made Jayce dizzy. Viktor’s mind- his heart- everything about him, no matter how fundamental or superficial, aroused Jayce’s admiration a little more ardently with each passing moment, making him feverish.

How could he have acted so stupidly? What a fucking moron.

His most genuine goal, his most beautiful dream, everything could only reside in Viktor and no one, nowhere else-

“What did you expect of me?”

Too intrigued by his reverie and the stir of his heart, he hadn’t heard Viktor approach.

“What?”

Viktor stopped a little too far from him for his taste, leaning with both hands on his crutch. Refusing to look at him.

“When you came here,” Viktor pursued, voice so small. “What did you expect of me? Did you want us to be… partners, again?”

Jayce blinked.

“Was your intention to… bring me back to a desk, to write a few notes and start working on a project again?”

Jayce’s shoulders fell. “I think we’ve worked enough, Viktor.”

His partner nodded gingerly. “Hmm. So. You will not try, and convince me, to work on magic again?”

What was that supposed to mean?

Jayce tried not to move to fast, stepping closer to him. This way, he could appreciate the view - the light nuzzling Viktor’s cheek. There were golden little dots spread across his nose and cheekbone. Jayce ignored the urge to trace them at his fingertips.

“Do you want to work on magic again?” Jayce tried to understand. “With me?”

Viktor shifted ever so slightly, and Jayce watched, breathless, all the kinds of emotions that passed through those honey eyes that he cherished more than ever. Their whirlwind brushed against his own consciousness, warm and affectionate, like a caress on the inside of his wrist, or a kiss at the bottom of his spine.

Gods, this was-

Intoxicating.

“I-I… I don’t know,” Viktor admitted, nervous. For a moment, he didn’t seem capable of deciding on what to do with himself, breathing a little roughly. He settled on glancing at Jayce, just the once, before swallowing what he was going to say and slowly walking away.

Jayce sighed, the sensation of his heart hammering behind his ribcage overwhelming.

“Think about it, he said,” Jayce grumbled, massaging his chest, following in his footsteps. “Your mind’s fooling you, he said. Well, sir, feels pretty damn real to me.”

_____

The thing was: it kept getting even realer.

The more the days dissolved into each other, lengthening in a curious way, nibbling away at the nighttime, the more Viktor accepted Jayce's presence in his space - first in this world, then in the house, which Jayce managed to enlarge after a while, adding a new bedroom for him, smoothing out the bumps in the walls, the cracks in the roof, the flaws in the windows, and spreading immortal flowers to the four corners of the dwelling despite Viktor's disapproving little grunts, and finally... finally... in the close space dedicated to Viktor's movements. Each new attempt, each small victory of Jayce in managing to approach his roommate began to nourish his soul, and Gods, was it famished.

He always longed for more.

Couldn’t help it.

But never did he force Viktor for anything.

There were days when Viktor would keep his distance, or watch him from afar, and it was okay. Because there were days, oh those days, when Jayce was allowed to brush past him, and sway against the line of Viktor’s body, and briefly place a hand on his lower back, and breathe the same air-

There were days.

And there were evenings, when Viktor would undo every strap that was tight around his body, when Viktor would touch every leather band and pull them out of every buckle, silently, religiously, before going to bed, and he would let Jayce watch as he sat near the fire.

They didn’t talk about it.

Of course, they didn’t.

But Jayce could feel it.

The altered song, the bended pattern. Everything about Viktor, mostly his mind, was thoroughly calling for Jayce – except Viktor himself.

So he took his troubles patiently, even doing so with a fond smile, because he was so fucking happy to be here, with his one and only partner.

Living with him, cooking whatever spiritual food he could conjure for him, decorating the house for him, watching him talk with the Poros when he thought Jayce wasn’t looking, wiping his tears away when a new face appeared on a ghost in town, caring for him.

Or, also… watching him bathe.

“What in Zaun’s name is this for?” Viktor had wondered then, looking quite baffled, to Jayce’s delight.

“It’s for you,” Jayce had said proudly, hands on his hips like a charitable grand-mother would.

Viktor’s left eyebrow had done an elegant thing. “Me?”

Knocking his crutch twice over the wooden tub, which had been slightly fuming with steam even though the ambient temperature today recalled Jayce of golden summer days, Viktor hadn’t seemed convinced. Jayce had known that Viktor would play hard to get.

“What am I supposed to do with it?” he had frowned, tilting his head as he’d looked over at Jayce. “Boil some fruit? Drink it?”

Jayce had rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “Come on, Viktor. It’s a bath. I’m sure you’d like to take a bath! You know, to relax for a while.”

Viktor had kept staring, unimpressed, and Jayce had let out the biggest sigh, throwing his arms up. “Why are you so difficult, it’s crazy work, pleasing you, it really is! It’s just a warm bath, you liked those, right? Isn’t it good for your leg? I mean, you keep saying we don’t need to mind for our current bodies, that they’re not real, but you’re the one who’s insisting on keeping the body you lived in! If you refuse nice things, then refuse the bad ones too or stop acting like you’re not actually craving for a little more life even in death and sit in the damn bath, Viktor.”

Gods, this man would drive him insane in every fucking universe.

Viktor had merely blinked then, staring back at the tub, and Jayce had braced himself for some other resistance. But…

“You want to please me?” Viktor had repeated.

Jayce had swallowed the lump in his throat. “Yes.”

“You want to please me and you made me a bath.”

“Yes.”

“How am I supposed to take this? Do I stink? Have you sniffed yourself lately and got confused with your own smell?”

Jayce had groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes.

“Just sit in the damn bath, Viktor!”

“Hmm.”

Hmm?

Jayce had dropped his hands. And stared.

Viktor had taken a step forward and Jayce had held his breath.

“You put flowers in it.”

Oh, by Heimerdinger’s mustache-

Jayce was three seconds away from throwing the man over the edge of the tub. Until Viktor opened his mouth again.

“It is a nice attention. Useless, but… nice.”

The whole scene had drained Jayce’s energy, somehow, and rendered him speechless.

“Right,” he’d managed to say. “I’ll, uh.” He’d pointed to the house then, clearing his throat. “Washcloth. I’ll get you some.”

Which had led him to where he was now, after long minutes of trying to ignore the slow undressing of Viktor in the front yard, trying to ignore the feeling of fingers smoothly dancing over his own skin, getting rid of braces he didn’t wear himself, the smooth glide of the shirt’s silk against his shoulder blades – fuck, that mind-merging thing was getting… somewhere.

Once he wasn’t as overwhelmed with sensations from another body, Jayce leaned his shoulder against the doorway, a stupid cloth in his hand, and took in the view of the long-haired man sitting in an ebony bathtub under a pink-flowered tree, at the edge of endless fields of…

Gorgeous.

Heaven had never been a place, in the end, had it?

“Are you going to stare all day?”

About fifteen feet separated them and Viktor’s voice was low, yet Jayce heard it as if right against his ear. A soft smile played on his face.

What if I did?

Sinking his teeth in his tongue as he walked back to Viktor, Jayce put the cloth on the edge of the tub and rested against the tree, arms crossed.

“You like it when I look at you.” Viktor did not look at him then.

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“You do.” Jayce didn’t even mean it in a teasing way, it was just… the truth. An unspoken thing taking shape and successfully making Viktor blush.

Jayce didn’t point it out.

“Can I wash your hair?” he asked instead and watched the blush spread.

“Start by washing yours first,” Viktor mumbled without any heat.

Jayce’s grin almost hurt his face now. After a loaded silence, he asked again, gentle, “Can I?”

“If you want,” Viktor whispered softly, drawing his knees closer to his chest.

Eyeing the clothes and the straps tossed onto the grass, Jayce took a step forward, which, honestly, felt like a major leap into some unknown destination. But he was a scientist, an explorer of sorts, and kneeling down next to the tub gave him a rush of anticipation. As he rolled up his sleeves, Jayce’s eyes fell down onto Viktor’s pristine pale shoulder and he felt like a beggar before the altar of his sins.

This - Jayce’s hands sinking in the warm water that clothed Viktor’s skin - this truly was uncharted waters and Jayce tried his best not to lose what remained of his mind but, Viktor… socially withdrawn, borderline alexithymic, touch-averse Viktor had just voiced his consent for Jayce to touch him for the first time in their life. Not even to help him, or assist him, like Jayce had always done anyway – he would be touching him as a service, as a purely affectionate gesture and Jayce was getting fucking tired of that word.

But he sure embraced it like a champ for all the years he’d been blind to his own cravings.

Only you… can show me this.

Time to pay the price.

So the water swallowed his hands and wept between his knuckles as he brought it to Viktor's hair, the tip of his pinky finger brushing where Viktor’s shoulder met his neck. A nerve jumped just below the skin, joined with a gasp, and Jayce was incapable of telling if it’d been his or Viktor’s.

But Viktor tilted his head to the side, ever so slightly, just enough to bare his neck entirely to the man who had perverted his body and blown a hole through his chest yesterday.

What a fucking leap-

Just like that, though, Jayce ran his fingers through Viktor’s white and brown strands, pouring water over them, coaxing Viktor into letting his head fall back with nothing but a simple pressure to his brow, and Jayce never faltered. Not when he rubbed soap into Viktor’s scalp, not when he patiently worked his way through knots, not even when Viktor closed his eyes, humming contently.

Jayce’s black shirt was soaked, and Viktor's head was resting as much against the edge of the tub as it was against Jayce's chest.

The water never got cold. If anything, it turned quite hotter. Viktor seemed to love it.

Jayce, of course, had to go and ruin it.

The soap had long since been discarded in the grass, and Jayce’s big hands weren’t washing anything anymore. One of them fell like a leaf in the water, landing against Viktor’s upper chest – the other gripped the wood for one second, maybe two, and before Jayce realized what he was doing, his fingers were grazing the sharp line of Viktor’s jaw. And he watched, he watched from so damn close as Viktor leaned into the featherlight touch for one second, maybe two, legs falling open in the water.

Jayce’s hand sunk a little deeper, lying flat over Viktor’s heart, clawing for it, his breath heavy against Viktor’s temple.

So human, so alive in his arms-

“So beautiful-” he gasped, almost painfully, deeply unaware of his mistake.

Having closed his eyes, he didn’t see Viktor leaning forward, tearing himself away from Jayce’s touch, and only felt it, as if the flesh was being removed from his very bones-

Disoriented, drunk on the feeling of melting into Viktor’s existence, Jayce only watched in horror as Viktor withered into himself before standing up, water splashing and streaming down his scalpel-drawn rune-covered arms, dripping along screws and bolts embedded in each vertebra.

“Wait-” Jayce croaked, leaning on the tub trying to catch his breath again, hand outstretched. “Viktor-”

Viktor ignored him, stepping over the edge and not casting him a single glance. Viktor walked back to the house, like a condemned man toward the gallows, without his crutch nor a single piece of clothing.

Hurt.

Hurt flashed through Jayce’s chest, and pain fiercely lashed onto his spine and legs.

He stayed there, on his knees, praying to the water for what felt like hours. And once the pain went away, when the blood-crying stars appeared above him, Jayce found himself thinking that, somehow, he was glad that Viktor had walked away.

He wasn’t sure how he would ever have been able to stop touching him and hated himself for even doing it in the first place.

_____

Viktor did not spare him a sliver of attention for the next seven days. Jayce allowed him and went back to listening to the song.

_____

PART III

The next day, Viktor lay bedridden. His body was numb with the sharded pain that ricocheted through his limbs, the incessant cramps and spasms that lacerated his sanity away like rats crawling under the skin of a rotting corpse. Teeth sinking into the blanket – Jayce’s –, he took the torture without making a single sound, not a single complaint, because he knew, he knew that Jayce would have reduced the door to pieces at the slightest whimper-

The second day, Viktor left the house early, avoiding Jayce’s slumped figure in the backyard near the well. He worked in the fields, among the bruising fruits and the wasted flowers, even fed the Poros and listened to them whine on his behalf for long hours. When he returned, all light had long since disappeared, and he forced himself with all his remaining strength not to contemplate and fall into the black hole that was Jayce's shadow, who was waiting for him on the porch.

On the third day, he collected the few hundred silk cocoons that had formed in the sorrel alcoves he had woven weeks before Jayce had even arrived. He spent the late morning, the afternoon, and the night unpicking them thread by thread on the spinning reel, boiling each little larva to death, denying them their beautiful final form and stealing their lifework away.

On the fourth day, he walked alone to the town. He laid the flowers and offerings before every door, doing his best to ignore the evident beauty of every house, the intricate art and genuine thoughtfulness poured into every detail of every building - the charm and humanity etched in every face he passed that now granted him the smiles and kinds of kindness he did not deserve, and never would.

He found himself throwing up behind a tree on the fifth day and swore he heard Jayce’s grunts on the other side of the garden, doing exactly the same.

On the sixth day, he sat in front of the pitch-black house, a breath away from the gates, and let the screams seep into his bones, lodge themselves in his marrow. He listened to every curse the Herald pronounced, and at nighttime, since he could still feel Jayce's hands roaming over his skin and Jayce’s mouth breathing against his hair, he did not get up. He did not even blink when he begged the demon to take his mind and body back.

“What a worthless ill-footed little fool,” the thing rumbled.

On the seventh day, Viktor almost crawled all the way back to the house. When night came, he dragged himself to his bedroom, ignoring the way Jayce raced to him, his mouth crying words Viktor could not hear anymore.

He longed for nothingness – for an end, to all of this.

_____

Was it not one’s fate to develop a taste for blood after licking at one’s wounds for too long?

_____

A fool.

Viktor’s every aspect had gotten weaker, and weaker, and Jayce was here, both breathing against his skin and at the back of his mind-

So, when he woke up screaming Jayce’s name like a lab rat calling for the mercy of his creator, he could only give in to all his weaknesses. Trapped in a hellish glitch, Viktor screamed to death, his body suspended in a web of lies, nightmares and desires, his mind quartered between all the dimensions and eras he had once resided in and rendered to dust, the phantom grip of the Hexcore amusing itself by shaking him like a lifeless doll-

He could not stop screaming, the torment and the convulsions breathing liquid fire into the space between the atoms-

Somewhere, Jayce fought, because he always did, and Jayce roared, soon slamming his body against the locked door of Viktor’s bedroom until it was reduced to pieces.

“VIKTOR!”

Viktor called for him, again and again, unable fight the distortion, and the memories, and the dead bodies, unable to escape the cries and the chaos-

Until Jayce’s hands found their way back to his skin again, pulling him into his arms, and everything merely-

Choked on the… song.

The silence.

And the peace.

Remained as victors, as if they always had been, but never recognized by Viktor.

And the song.

The love enveloped him whole like a cocoon. Impossible to undo. Impossible to break through. He was safe, safe, and dreaming again, dreaming again, dreaming again-

Wrapped in the blanket, Viktor collapsed exhausted within Jayce's arms, tears mixing with the sweat that beaded all over his skin. He was safe, nestled against his giant of flesh and warmth, face hidden from the rest of the worlds, right there, in the crook of Jayce's neck.

His sleep then, was serene, and deliciously warm.

_____

"This world is ours, Viktor. We can do whatever we want. I can give you whatever you want, if you'll just let me."

"Do you think we could work on something, Jayce? Find an equation. Test a theory. Blow up something?"

"You... wanna blow something up?"

"I think I would like that, yes."

"O-kay? Sure. I mean, of course! Anything. We can blow something up."

"You just said we can do whatever we want."

"Yes! And I meant it, Vik, it's just. I also meant that we are dead, and everything around us is not that real, and we can literally try every single theory in existence and it wouldn't have to hurt anyone or anything!"

"Precisely. So, let us blow something up, Jayce."

"Okay. Fine. We can do that."

_____

The delicate glow of the morning stretched from the window, gently seeping through by the glass. Everything appeared to be glowing. Light itself seemed to be purring along the lines of the sheets, painting the bedding gold along the lines of Jayce’s body next to Viktor’s.

The view was pretty… lovely.

Ignoring the golden eyes gazing at him, Viktor stared at his hand. It was… clutched, in Jayce’s shirt. His index brushed the skin there, following the bow of a collarbone.

The heavy hand that rest on his waist held Viktor a little tighter. A little closer.

Closing his eyes, he let himself bask in the…

In the…

Thing.

The unspoken thing that had kept him alive, even in this purgatory, for so long.

The ghost of Jayce’s breath brushed his cheek.

“Are you in pain?” he rasped, sounding almost… fearful, of Viktor’s answer.

But Viktor found that, no. No, there was no pain. Not a single ounce, not even in his leg.

“No,” he whispered directly into Jayce’s jaw.

Jayce’s entire body loosened up at his words.

“Are you cold?”

Viktor got awfully aware of the blanket they were lying atop of.

“No.”

Jayce’s hand released the hem of Viktor’s silky shirt.

“Do you want me to let go?” The question sounded like it pained him somewhere deep inside. When Viktor spoke again, he felt like sobbing.

“I do not…”

Jayce signed and only held him tighter, closer, pressing him into his chest and Viktor was so thankful for the feeling.

But.

It could not be real.

It could not be.

Viktor could not possibly speak it into life and yet-

“I never have,” he confessed with regret, slowly untangling his body from Jayce’s, steadily slipping away from his grasp-

It could not be-

“Viktor?”

“Viktor, what are you-”

“Please, don’t shut me out.”

“Come back to me-”

“Viktor, please-”

Viktor stared at the wooden splinters scattered across the floor, this shy from penetrating his heel.

“You should not be here, Jayce,” Viktor said tiredly. “I told you.”

You must go, Jayce.

“And I told you,” Jayce growled, getting as angry as Viktor had hoped, “that we’d finish this together.”

Viktor’s forehead touched the broken door.

“There is no together. Affection has blinded you.”

“Fuck that!” Jayce shouted, getting up from Viktor’s bed and crossing the space between. “We are here, and together, whether you like it or not, and I think we both know just how much you actually want it.”

Viktor winced, drawing his arms to his chest.

“How much I want it,” Jayce panted, voice low, luring him in. But Viktor shied away from his touch, even if weakly. “This can be our home, Viktor. It can be our world, if you let it.”

“There’s no home in the fields, like there was no home in any city,” Viktor ended up whining like a lost child. “There is no home for me. I wander along the paths and the dark, and home I cannot be, Jayce. Let me burn out the day, and the night, I cannot see a reason as to why I should be fighting it-”

“You have fought enough, Viktor, it is all over!”

Viktor turned around, eyes wide and burning, landing his fist against Jayce’s chest and pushing him away.

“I have seen so many freezing suns and wasted lives, froze and wasted them myself-”

“You don’t exist anymore, Viktor,” Jayce brushed his hand away and cupped Viktor’s face, touch impossibly gentle. “You’re the one insisting on being your only prosecutor, judge and jury.”

“Well, you be the judge, Jayce!” Viktor cried as the walls started to crumble and it terrified him. “You should be the executioner with the axe, or the hammer,” and he hit Jayce again, “or whatever tool you can find and hold, it could very well be just a pair of worn scissors as long as you slice me down into pieces and feed me to the worms!”

Viktor was shaking and eager to feel the pain crawl back into his body but it never came. It never came.

“You should set raging fire to the earth in which they feast and crawl and writhe, leave only bitter ashes,” he spat, “for the wind to wipe out and for this space-time continuum to ingurgitate! You should beat me with your bare hands, Jayce, until my skull cracks and explodes into thousands splinters between your knuckles, until you get high off of it and start laughing as you crush the wretched scum I am! I want you to peel the skin off my body, I want you to leave me to rot after you rip the bones off my body, I want you to loathe me, Jayce! Hate me, Jayce, please!”

And when Jayce’s hands touched him again ever so lovingly, Viktor could not bear it anymore and fell into his chest, sobbing even harder.

“I could never hate you, Viktor.”

“I know!” Viktor whimpered, eyes red and hands gripping Jayce’s shirt. “But why!? Why won’t you hate me, why-”

Jayce was hugging him tight now, cradling his head like Viktor was a precious thing, and Viktor wanted to be disgusted by it, wanted to punch him and hit him until his body got too worn-out. Instead, he found himself clinging onto Jayce’s solid body, fingers desperate to grasp the heat and the warmth, fisting that stupid sweaty shirt like he needed nothing else, at all, and the lie he had built for himself could not keep form anymore-

I could never hate you.

Viktor wept harder, shaking like a leaf and the braces around his body bit into his muscles and his nerves.

He could feel Jayce’s health now, breathe his strength in and bathe in it, the sensation burning hot, akin to diving into the sun.

They were colliding at last. Merging, finally.

But Viktor, before being cosmically intertwined, was cosmically stubborn-

“You think this is all in your mind, again, huh?” Jayce whispered tenderly, stroking Viktor’s cheekbone.

The undeniable love tore a whine out of Viktor’s throat. He couldn't believe it-

“Where else would it even be real, Jayce,” Viktor pleaded until his voice broke. He was so exhausted, so desperate, had no idea what to believe in anymore. And Jayce looked so real, felt so real.

Viktor did not deserve any of it.

He didn't deserve Jayce Talis, but the idiot had followed him here.

Although Jayce’s eyes were shining with sorrow, a smile played on his lips, attractive. His thumb brushed over the corner of Viktor's mouth, sweetly so, over the mole just there, as lightly as a feather. Then it ventured further south, to his bottom lip, and it grew heavier, turned into a more insistent caress. Viktor could have as well closed his mouth around it, the result would have had been the same.

“Well, for a start?” Jayce murmured, eyes transfixed on Viktor's mouth as he softly tilted his chin up. “In mine.”

And the utter adoration seeped into Viktor’s brain. Knocked the air out of his lungs.

W-What?

“In mine… You just have to cross the line.”

An ocean wave leaving every ugly thing and dark corners shattered on the ground, offering only unspoiled land.

“What happens then?” Viktor croaked, gripping Jayce's collar, crumbling at the altar of the man's heart.

“You fall into my arms. I’ll show you.”

Jayce said along a shaky breath as he leaned down. Their noses brushed against one another, and Viktor got bewitched by the thought that he had never felt more alive. It burned… in such a good way. Like-

Being on the verge of a new world-bending discovery, yes.

“Will you please stop hovering-” Viktor murmured, making Jayce laugh. Also, Viktor did not ask for permission to swallow the sound, as he snaked his arms around his partner’s neck, sealing their lips together.

This was what magic was supposed to feel like. The dizzying lightness of being, the pulsing presence of another, the immediate consignment of anything a little too sharp-edged straight to oblivion.

Jayce barely returned the kiss at first, too lost in the cheer wonder of the moment, smiling too much like a lunatic, but Viktor waited for him, he had always waited for him, and when he did come back to his senses, Jayce kissed him back with so much fervor that Viktor's knees got close to buckle under him. The feel of the man's beard, solid and unmissable against his sensitive skin, felt like a blessing to Viktor who surrendered himself to Jayce's hunger, open-mouthed and surprisingly slow.

The heat of Jayce's body swallowed him whole, and Viktor suddenly knew that he would never feel the cold ever again.

Ridiculously strong arms tightened around him, protective, possessive, pressing him into a well-defined strength, yet with so much care, cautiously avoiding pressure over Viktor's spine. And it made him positively melt. Oh, how they had everything to make, everything to build-

Everything to love.

Running his hands through Jayce's wild hair, wrists well-locked behind his neck, Viktor absentmindedly tugged on it, eliciting a little moan that he drank happily, then pulled slightly harder. Testing a theory. Jayce groaned again, biting his lip, ever so sweet, eyes fluttering open, taking in every single detail he could find on Viktor's face.

Everything to love.

Soon enough, calloused hands followed the line of his back, burning through the silk of Viktor's shirt, explored the curve of his ass before settling under his thighs. They breathed against each other's mouth for a second, before Jayce lifted him up as if he weighed nothing. Viktor's legs wrapped themselves around his waist, and Jayce's left hand carefully slipped under Viktor's right knee, supporting his leg in the blink of an eye.

He wondered then, how slow those hands would undo the leather tied all over his body, how delicate those blacksmith's hands would be on his naked skin, and what it would take for them to tremble and forget themselves, to clench a little too hard and leave obscenely sweet marks-

A warm energy purred along his neck, like steam, inexplicably electric, tearing him away from his fantasies. When he opened his eyes again, he realized that Jayce had downright teleported them further in the house and his back softly met hard wood-

Viktor gasped into Jayce's mouth.

"Wait a minute," Viktor grinned, a little shakily. "This is not my bedroom-"

"Fuck, I love you so much-"

_____

“I guess it really was all about time, darling.”

“Hmm. I suppose you are rather pleased with yourself, are you not?”

“Of course I am. You haven’t even whacked your cane over my head a single time since we’ve been here.”

“That, I can fix. And who are you calling darling?”

“What, you don’t like it?”

“I despise it.”

“Oh shut up, you like it.”