Work Text:
Viktor had always felt different from everyone. Moreso in Piltover, but Zaun wasn’t an exception to that. Still, he kept his home close, and remembered it with nostalgia that made his chest ache. It was bittersweet.
Believing in himself had been the only way to move forward, even in those days in which he couldn’t move out of his bed. Not many zaunites had the fortune or even chance of leaving Zaun. Knowing that, understanding it and carving it into his bones as a reminder was what kept Viktor’s feet in the solid ground; in contrast to most of the citizens of Piltover, who didn’t know another life, who knew hypocrisy like a popular refrain but knew nothing of bleak, hopeless nights.
So yes, things improved for him once he arrived in Piltover, his living situation was so unusually stable, and then there were commodities and luxuries he could afford to a certain degree that ultimately made his life easier, maybe too easy. That thought always tasted acrid to him, especially when he first arrived. Pilties were too hedonistic, and completely disregarded everything Viktor ever stood up for. He was angry for a while, until he understood that his anger only served to exhaust him to the bones, and no one cared about that.
But above all things, Viktor wanted to help, wanted to aid those who were cast the furthest away. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but feel like a traitor to Zaun, as if he had risen above and left behind everything about his home. Then he had to remind himself that he was in Piltover to help his people. To make things better, close the gap, if only a little. Maybe leave enough of a sprout for the next generation.
Another wave of nostalgia hits him then, remembering his younger self, and how that young boy every now and again threatened to claw his way out of the confines in which Viktor had placed him. These days, that small child was quieter and quieter, but still, he remembers him as if he were mourning a long gone piece of himself.
He’d been reprimanded for his sensitivity to everything that surrounded him; before life turned more complex, it felt like he was in the same waveline as his mother, unconsciously mimicking as best as he could the despair he saw in her eyes, feeling it seep through his veins, arriving at his heart and pulling. No one had asked that of him, but he did that anyway, and he felt that same anguish he saw in her mother, as if that would comfort her. As if that would have comforted him too.
And then his mother died, and Viktor didn’t know what to do with himself. A few nights after her mother’s pyre, Viktor had tossed his small cane to the river and forced himself to walk without it, and although he couldn’t remember why he did that, Viktor had a vague idea, and for a split second he allowed himself to believe that kid wasn’t dead, not really. The day after that, he’d lay on the edge of the body of water, sobbing from the painful cramps and spasms that crawled up his leg and back, lamenting his mother had never taught him how to swim.
By the time he arrived in Piltover, Viktor noticed that most times, all he felt was a cold distance from everyone’s emotions. He could still make his best guess, and that guess would most likely be correct, but he felt numb and only acted upon what he was supposed to do, instead of merging himself with the unpleasant emotions he saw all around him, forcing himself to not feel them more than his own. That ultimately made him mostly numb to emotion, generally speaking.
Every now and again he felt the sting in his chest, a reminder of just how much he was capable of feeling, regardless of his own emotional state. By the time he turned twenty, he was (or so he thought) amazing at being indifferent at how little, if at all, the people around him cared for him the same way he did, in such an unconscious act. He even felt betrayed by himself at times, acknowledging how little he cared for his own well-being, how much he could care for other people, how much he actually cared to make other’s pain go away. Viktor had learnt the hard way that he couldn’t devote himself completely to anyone, because he always ended up drained, used and discarded. His disability had also played a big part in how detached he was to the rest, he was an observer after all. Most of his childhood was spent watching and trying to understand the other kids around him. Far from connections, far from friendship or love, he has always been an outsider.
And despite making it to Piltover, hard work and everything, he was still an outsider, someone underneath the rest. Viktor had always felt proud of how quickly he overcame not caring about pleasing, or making any sort of impressions with anyone. His limp alone was enough to stick out uncomfortably, so Viktor learnt he no longer had to show just how much he could care. He was amazing at adapting, merging as best as he could, fully acknowledging he would always stick out, no matter what.
By the time his brain had developed fully, he was at peace with sticking out (or so he tried to tell himself in the harder days), acknowledging that he would always try his best at concealing so that he would never feel exposed, exploited.
Which is why he has never fought for any sort of recognition from Hextech. He didn’t need it, he was more than fulfilled knowing they were progressing and helping more and more people around them. Of course, a part of him had always feared that his legacy would be as short-lived as a lightning bolt, but he didn’t need to process that just yet, he didn’t want to face that harsh truth, even if he thought he was already living overtime. Exhaling, he felt slightly at peace knowing that slowly but surely the undercity would be better, and now more than ever, he knew he was able to help.
He finished tracing the silhouette of their most recent prototype, unable to push away how uneasy he’s been feeling since Jayce became a councillor. He supposes it was bound to happen, as he turns to take a look at the younger man’s work station; his desk has been left untouched for a week now. It was bound to happen, and yet he can’t help but feel his own heart pump bitter lines of something ugly and dark that make his limbs go numb, in contrast to the sharp pain he usually begins to feel around this time of the year with the frigid air and low temperatures.
He gives up trying to re-trace an uneven line, noticing the thinness of it turned to a sharp, thick line that became uneven and uglier with each stroke. He drops the pen to the desk, placing a hand on his lower back to somehow alleviate the pain he begins to feel (this has always proved futile, of course). He moves his hand to the small cog on his back and then twists it to further adjust his back brace.
Viktor inhales, then exhales long and slow, trying to remain calm through the intense wave of pain that runs up his back, tracing his spine with harsh, uneven lines.
A sort of calm settles over him, he feels thankful that Jayce isn’t here; as soon as he feels relieved from his absence, the pain passes through his leg and he feels a sudden heart ache knowing Jayce isn’t here .
❖
Viktor approximates that two hours have passed since the pain started, but is ultimately unsure because the last thing he remembered was that he was still sitting on the stool by his desk, and now he’s laying on the couch.
He closes his eyes, trying to find some inner supernatural force to lift himself up from the couch, but the frigid atmosphere in the lab has never helped his pain, or his ability to move with ease. Just as he goes to turn to his side with careful movements, Viktor hears the lab’s door crack open with a careful movement. With the years, the door’s creak has intensified, no matter how hard either of them tries to open it quietly, it creaks. They’ve never called maintenance for it.
And Viktor knows that’s Jayce, as he hears the man let out a deep breath, hearing the door close with the same careful motion. And right then Viktor knows Jayce can’t, won’t see him laying in the couch like a lifeless, frigid corpse. He manages to sit up in his seat but his mission to stand up fails as he sees his crutch on the other side of the lab.
And only then does he actually see Jayce, for a second unaware of his presence. That is, until he spots Viktor’s crutch on the floor and he looks around the room for a second before spotting Viktor.
“Viktor. You scared me.”
“I’m always here Jayce.” Viktor does his best to straighten further his back, ignoring the ache intensifying.
Viktor notices then that Jayce looks distraught, his face twisted into a frown that ever so slightly lifts away with a small smile directed at Viktor. The man feels uncomfortable at that, but he also feels like a fool.
“Were you sleeping?”
“No,” Viktor answers quickly, keeping his voice relaxed, “no, I was taking a break I guess.”
“How did you get there?”
“Huh?”
Jayce lifts his arm, pointing with his finger at Viktor’s crutch on the other side of the room, remaining quiet.
“It’s a tougher task, but I can still move without it.”
Jayce scratches his head, turning to look at the crutch, then back at Viktor. And Viktor can tell Jayce would like to push him further, scold him perhaps, for moving without it when he’s only gotten worse. He doesn’t.
“Well, yeah, I guess. Are you okay?”
Jayce then goes to pick the crutch up, taking it to Viktor and sitting down beside him on the couch.
“Tough night.”
“I’m sorry.”
Viktor frowns, eyeing Jayce. “What for?”
“I’m not here anymore, am I?”
“Well, our progress isn’t the same without your constant contributions, but you’re a busy man Jayce. I understand.”
“Yes, but– I didn’t really mean it like that. I guess I saw you and– I hadn’t seen you in a while. I’m sorry.”
“I can manage on my own, you know that,” Viktor said, his voice laced with an ugly feeling he could tolerate from anyone but Jayce. His pity was the last thing in the world he needed, especially right now.
“I know that Vik, I know. I missed you .”
“Missed? Why? Surely there’s more important things to do than miss me,” yet Viktor couldn’t help the way his chest warmed ever so slightly, cheeks going redder not just from the coldness seeping into his bones.
Jayce then places his hand on top of his, squeezing slightly, “It’s impossible not to miss you,” he muttered quietly. Then, “you’re freezing,” Jayce said, quick to take both of Viktor’s hands on his own, cradling them with the warmth of his own. Viktor felt too tired, too defeated to do something about it other than let his arms go limp in the warmth of Jayce.
“Would you let me walk you to your place?”
“It’s too far away, I’ll just stay here.”
“Don’t be like that. It’s freezing in here. You look like you’re about to turn to ice.”
“You look like you haven’t slept in two days.”
“That bad huh?”
Only then did Viktor allow a smile to show in his face, turning to look at Jayce standing up, their hands still clasped together. Viktor let go of one to grip his crutch and finally managed to stand up.
“Let’s go to my place, it’s closer.”
“Stop coddling me, or I’ll kick you.”
Jayce stepped closer, way closer than he should, moving his hands to hold Viktor’s forearms, “can’t you just accept I want to be with you?”
Viktor’s heart stuttered just then, and feeling overwhelmed and so tired of pretending he’s fine, muttered with thick accent, “fine.”
❖
And so they walked down the hall, finally entering Jayce’s space, small and warm. And then Viktor found himself sitting on the edge of Jayce’s bed while he changed and found some clothes for him. Viktor felt on edge, as if he wasn’t supposed to be there disrupting Jayce’s bubble, feeling like this was too close for his liking. Perhaps too intimate, yet every fibre of his soul ached to be there.
Wearing Jayce’s clothes wasn’t something he’d ever imagined doing, but he found something akin to comfort as he tried his best to keep warm in the t-shirt and soft but not thick enough pants. He also tried his best to suppress painful groans as he maneuvered and changed, choosing not to remove his back brace, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to leave as quickly the next morning. And he really wanted to leave, he had work to do. And he also didn’t want Jayce to witness how painful it was to remove it, regardless of the pain it would cause later to have it on through the night.
He’s known Jayce for so long, but he’s found it hard to reconcile the idea of looking and being so vulnerable with the man. He knows Jayce means well, but he also feels like a fool for believing it’s something other than pity (even though he knows it’s anything but pity what Jayce’s expression says to him when Viktor struggles).
Exiting the toilet, Jayce is standing by a bookshelf that stands beside the bed, a book in his hands by the time he spins around to take a look at Viktor.
“What are you doing?”
“Picking a book.”
“What for?”
“So you can read it to me.”
“Are you five Jayce?”
Jayce looks him in the eyes, and for a moment, he feels as though he’s with Jayce and ten years haven’t passed them by, he aches to rewind time.
❖
“Don’t you remove your back brace to sleep?”
“It’s best if I just keep it on tonight. I’ve had more pain today from the cold, so removing it will be…” Viktor makes a face, and Jayce, still laying on one side of the bed with the same book can’t quite recognise still in his hands, sits up straight, concern adorning his features.
“Won’t it be more painful later?”
Viktor sits on the edge of the bed, opposite side to Jayce, he sighs. “Fine, I’ll remove it, but don’t worry too much, it looks worse than it is.” It definitely felt worse than it looked, but he was already allowing himself this, saying that would just be unnecessary at this point.
He feels a soft touch on his shoulder, “can I help you with anything?”
Viktor ponders for a moment, “I’ll detach the brace, but I need you to remove it from my lower back, I think I adjusted it too tight earlier and the skin might get stuck.”
Jayce moves and sits behind Viktor, “okay.”
Only once Jayce replies, Viktor maneuvers himself out of the shirt, discarding it to one side and going to detach the front latches. Almost immediately, the pain is rougher and his vision goes gray and blurry so he breathes, exhaling and trying to remain calm amongst the wave of aching burn he feels that starts on the top of his spine, and ends on his calf. It’s like a loop that goes back and forth, and he goes rigid, wishing he could just stop hurting, even for a single night.
In the back of his mind, he senses Jayce’s panic at his state, but he remains as serene as he can, finishing with the front and going to his back, but he feels Jayce’s hands half on the brace, half on his bare skin and momentarily he knows goosebumps rise on his back. “Wait, let me do the back, don’t strain yourself more, okay?”
Viktor hums once, and inhales sharply as another sharp stab invades his thigh. Jayce shifts closer to him, and he unlatches the two upper latches with care, and then moves to the lower back’s cog and is about to go and twist it loose, but he speaks up with a shaky voice, “your skin isn’t trapped anywhere, do I remove it as quick as I can? Does that make it better, or-or worse?”
“Just make it quick, it’s better like that.” He hears Jayce exhale shakily behind him, and Viktor can’t help but wonder if Jayce feels the same way Viktor did when her mother was upset, and he mimicked her emotion. Viktor felt too aware of the fact that he was sharing a big part of himself, sitting in Jayce’s bed, bare and vulnerable, but he was also somehow putting down some of the lonely turmoil and allowing Jayce to understand, to truly see how hard it was to live the way he did. It felt like what he always wished others would do for him the same way he did; empathy in its purest, rawest form.
Viktor felt more human than ever, feeling Jayce’s hand turn the cog until it was loose enough and then he was removing the brace from his torso and placing it on the other side of the bed. The Zaunite exhaled with relief as the pain slowly became more and more bearable. Maybe a few seconds or minutes went by, he was unsure; Viktor right then and there thought he couldn’t possibly feel more human, but then there was Jayce, placing a chaste kiss on the base of his skull, and then on his right shoulder.
“Jayce.”
“I knew it was painful, but– Viktor, I thought–” Jayce’s voice cracked, and he cleared his throat briefly, as if he was holding himself together. Something broke and then mended itself inside Viktor’s heart.
“Lay down, Vik. What’s the best position, so that it hurts less?” Jayce asked in a hushed tone, removing himself from the bed and taking the brace in one arm to stand in front of Viktor.
Viktor moved to lay on his belly, head turned to the right to take a look at Jayce, “like this.”
“Okay,” Jayce breathed once again, winded. “You have blood on your back and some on your chest, can I clean those wounds?”
“Would that make you feel better?” Viktor asked him.
“It’s not about me–”
“But it would,” Viktor paused then, fully taking Jayce in, the furrow of his brows, the way he looked so close to giving up and falling on his knees with the aftermath of this whole experience, exhausted and worried. Jayce was beautiful, he thought with a pang that came from deep inside his chest. Yearning, perhaps, was the adequate way to describe his own state. He had always seemed so far away from him, but only then did he actually understand what Jayce meant when he said he cared for him. “So yes, please clean them.”
Jayce looks like he can’t form any comprehensible sentence, and if Viktor didn’t know him he would’ve thought the man looked hurt, but it wasn’t that exactly. Maybe devastated, shocked?
“Why?,” and oh , Jayce’s voice sounded so small Viktor even allowed himself to grieve among Jayce. He didn’t know what exactly they were grieving, but he felt it anyway. Without asking Jayce to explain himself, he knew what he meant.
“Because I wish you hadn’t seen this part of me, I wish it hadn’t affected you, at all. But I also am grateful you received this part of me like this. I know you care for me, for some strange reason. So, would it make you feel better?”
“Yes,” he breathed, maybe a longing look on his face, but that thought was quickly shut down by Viktor.
❖
Jayce had already bandaged two of the deeper wounds on his back, and Viktor was now laying flat on his back, Jayce kneeling beside him on his side of the bed (his side?) and assessing the wounds in his chest.
Then Viktor felt frigid finger tips hover over his upper abdomen, and Jayce spoke in a hushed tone, “I think only one needs patching, the rest are not that awful.”
And so Jayce only covered the deepest wound with a gauze, the rest he only applied hydrogel with the tips of his fingers. The first few strokes on his skin were too soft, too careful. It almost was uncomfortable, and in any other instance, it probably would’ve been a mostly uncomfortable experience; this time though, Viktor mostly felt such a profound understanding from Jayce.
He still sensed how uneasy Jayce was, so he spoke up, perhaps slightly scared of breaking the comfortable silence, “you don’t have to be so careful Jayce, I’m alright.”
And the thing is, Viktor didn’t really understand how Jayce felt, but he wanted to comfort him for some strange reason. He wanted to reassure him, remind him without any poison that he could deal with this and oh so much more. Unfortunately his body didn’t think so too, and that’s what Jayce saw.
“Is it that bad always?”
As Viktor pondered his answer, leaning on wanting to tell Jayce the closest thing to the truth, the younger man continued applying hydrogel on an already healing slash on the curve of his hip, “not always. Sometimes, especially during winter.”
Jayce hummed, and then he was pulling his hand away, eyeing Viktor’s torso as if admiring his healing work. He stood up, placing the gel back on a drawer and standing there motionless for a moment, turned away from Viktor.
“Jayce?”
“It’s really getting worse, isn’t it?”
“It’s more complicated than that.”
“Is it?” Only then did he turn around, and Viktor heard perfectly the way both his hearts shattered, if only a little.
❖
Silence had reigned since, and they were laying in Jayce’s bed, Jayce on his side, Viktor laying on his belly again and both facing the other. Viktor had already closed his eyes, yet unable to fall asleep. There was an invisible wall that separated them, although they were only a few centimetres between their bodies.
Jayce whispered in the darkness of the room. “I wish I could take your pain and bear it.”
“I wouldn’t wish this on anyone, let alone you, Jayce.”
“I would do it anyway.” And somehow, for whatever reason, Viktor knew he would.
Not knowing how to answer such a statement, Viktor reached and placed his palm on Jayce’s cheek, caressing the soft skin above where a beard could grow with his thumb. “I know.”
Not caring the strain it causes on his neck and back, Viktor lifts his head from the pillow and licked his lips before pressing them into Jayce’s. Initially, Viktor only wanted to bask in the feel, and Jayce, probably taken aback, doesn't move against him until Viktor finally does and then their lips slot against one another.
It’s so tender, Viktor kisses Jayce as if he were made of porcelain, and then Jayce was placing his palm on his lower back, spreading his fingers out to grasp as much of the naked skin as he could. Viktor felt a shiver run down his body, but he couldn’t hold himself like that for so long, so he carefully removed his lips from Jayce’s and let his head plop down his pillow, trying to breathe normally again.
“Vik?” Jayce murmured.
“Hurts my neck,” Viktor admitted, words muffled a little by the pillow, “sorry.”
Up until that point, Jayce had hesitated with every move, every word he said. In that moment, he didn’t hesitate, his hand sliding up Viktor’s back in one soothing motion before Viktor heard his voice low and certain. “Turn over for me.”
Viktor wanted more than anything to continue kissing Jayce, so he did as told, rolling onto his back. Every motion was deliberate, Jayce’s hand steadying him without feeling invasive, or patronising. Jayce knew that, although his pain was considerably high, Viktor wasn’t made of glass.
“Better?” Jayce asked him once Viktor was settled, his eyes looking for Viktor’s.
“Yes,” he answered softly, feeling a sudden drop in energy, perhaps too exhausted from the unforgiving pain.
Jayce leaned down then, lips brushing Viktor’s in such a reverent way it made his whole body ache from how much he’d wanted this. Viktor hummed softly, body relaxing into the mattress as the kiss continued. It was slower now, the unhurried press of their lips. Jayce’s hands came to rest above his waist, kneading the soft skin with his thumbs, as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss.
After not too long, Jayce sensed Viktor’s exhaustion, so he slowly removed himself, pressing a chaste kiss, once, twice, and then pulling away, cheeks flushed and oh, Viktor wanted to carve this image into his brain.
“Your scars here,” Jayce whispered, tracing the curvy scar underneath his breast, then on the other side, “they’re so beautiful.”
“They’re just scars.”
“No, they’re you.” He then dropped his head and kissed Viktor’s chest, right in the centre. Viktor did not know what to do with himself.
“So, you’re calling me beautiful?”
“What if I were?”
Viktor felt daring, alive. “Then I’d say I love you.”
He saw Jayce tense for a second, before lifting his head slightly and going back to kiss Viktor briefly.
A chaste kiss, “you’re too much,” another kiss, “for me,” and another kiss pressed, this time to the corner of his lips.
“Yeah?” Viktor teased.
Once more taking the older man aback, Jayce pressed their foreheads together, nose tips pressing and their breaths mingled, “I love you too.”
❖
"Viktor?"
"Mm?"
"You didn't read to me, before sleeping."
"Jayce, go to sleep."