Chapter Text
The hubbub of the rehearsal room quickly fades away as Viktor claps his hands, the sound cutting through the noise like a baton striking a cymbal. Every musician still standing or conversing with their neighbors interrupts themself and finds their seat.
“Good evening, everyone,” says Viktor with a smile. “I'm really glad to see you all again, and to see some new faces. I hope you've had a great vacation.”
Several nods and affirmations from those closer to him.
Even though he's been conducting this orchestra for several years, the first rehearsal of the session always stresses Viktor a little. At the same time, he is reassured by the enthusiastic reactions as he describes the pieces that will be played in the upcoming months. The choice of modern pieces seems to please everyone and changes from what they've done in the past.
They're off to an enthusiastic start, but they're still rusty. Viktor doesn’t blame his musicians at all; the first practice is always difficult, even for him who hasn't quite got to grips with the pieces yet.
After a good hour's practice, he announces a break. Everyone stands up and the conversations are resumed, with the added subject of the new pieces.
Viktor rises from his bench, clutches his cane lying beside him and exits with the others into the hall of the university's music wing where they practice, to get away from their rather small and filled practice room. He greets his friends, chatting with them for a few minutes to check in with them. Then he decides to say hello to the new faces, those who have been added for this new session. There aren't many of them, but he still wants them to feel welcome and integrated.
He starts with two new violinists. Younger than the average musician in the group, but seemingly very talented. They should have no problem keeping up with the level of this wind orchestra. He listens to their enthusiastic comments on the choice to do Moonlight, happy to note that he's not the only fan of this more unknown composer. They strangely remind him of himself when he was still a beginner.
Viktor excuses himself and heads for a new group. Caitlyn, a trumpeter who has already been with the orchestra for a while and who is very implicated in the group, greets him. Next to her stands a new trumpeter.
“Hi guys. How are you, Caitlyn?” he asks.
“'I'm very good, you?”
He nods with a smile. The newcomer, a tall, tanned man around thirty with medium-length brown hair and a stubble, holds his hand toward him.
“I'm Jayce,” he says with a smile. “I'm really glad to be joining you.”
“Viktor” he answers while shaking his hand. “I hope you'll like it here. Did Caitlyn recommend you?”
He nods.
“Yeah, she told me a lot of good things about this orchestra. Told me it would do me good. I was worried I didn't have the level, but she was pretty convincing.”
“Stop being modest,” replies her friend. “You're much better than me, you know that.”
Viktor watches their bickering with a smile on his face. The man's smile tells him that he is aware of his talent but doesn't seem to want to admit it. He exudes a certain confidence, but not an over-inflated ego.
“Well, I'm glad to have you.” concludes Viktor with a small nod, before redirecting himself towards the entrance of the room. He turns to be heard by all and claps his hands again, the lively buzz of conversation fading into an almost perfect silence.
“Alright, everyone! Let's continue!”
***
The second week, Viktor feels more at ease as he enters the room and sits down at his stool, ready to lead an orchestra even more prepared than last week. Previously, he had been self-conscious about the long walk from the entrance to the stool, leaning on his cane while all eyes are on him. After several years, he has learned to get used to it as much as the musicians have gotten used to him.
He's happy to see the newcomers again. The pieces, the orchestra and he himself haven't seem to scare them away. It promises to be a good session.
After the break, Caitlyn, who oversees the orchestra's activities and fund-raising, gives a message to all about technicalities. She ends on a less boring note by announcing that there will be the first bar outing of the session, at the bar right next to the university.
“Everyone is invited, including newcomers, and even old-timers who've never shown up before.” she finishes with a smile.
Viktor nods, smiling in agreement. Outings to the bar... It's never been his thing, but it's a tradition that goes back before him. As the conductor, he can't just not go. It's almost an unwritten obligation.
And so, he goes there with fifteen or so others when practice is over. It's no surprise that he finds his most fervent musicians there, those who've been there longer, those who don't have a job the next morning or children to look after, or those who just want to have a drink. It's not surprising to see only a few people there and no newcomers - it's not easy to go out on a weeknight when you're no longer a carefree student.
As if to prove the contrary, Viktor notices that Caitlyn walks in with her friend, the tall tanned one.
Clearly a little uncomfortable at not knowing anyone, the latter stays with Caitlyn. Viktor follows them with his eyes and notices that, despite his discomfort, he seems to fit in easily, making jokes and introducing himself to everyone.
Viktor looks away and resumes his conversation with Rob, their 55-year-old tuba player, who particularly enjoys talking to him about his cats. The conductor listens, nodding politely and probably drinking his beer faster than he should. If he can be more at ease and less aware of what's going on around him, perhaps the evening will pass more quickly.
Viktor inwardly thanks the gods for delivering him when he sees the new man approaching. Jayce, if memory serves.
Rob doesn't seem bothered for a second by his arrival and continues his story about his cat Biscuit's latest trip to the vet, simply happy to have one more attentive ear.
Jayce, either extremely polite or strangely interested, laughs at the older man's lame joke and asks him a question or two about the cat. After what seems like an eternity, Rob gets up to go to the bathroom. Thank God.
Viktor chuckles and looks apologetically at Jayce.
“I promise we're not all like that.”
Jayce laughs.
“It's okay. He reminds me strangely of my uncle.”
Viktor laughs in return and Jayce sits down on the stool currently neglected by the tubist. The conductor takes a sip of his beer before forcing himself to speak first, uncomfortable with the silence.
“So, what do you think so far?”
“It's really fun. Less stressful than I thought it would be.”
Viktor nods.
“Yeah, that's one of my goals. I never liked the tense atmosphere of symphony orchestras when I was in one. I felt like I was in the army. I had no desire to repeat that, especially not in a more amateur orchestra like ours.”
“You were in a symphony orchestra?”
“Yeah. In the Symphony Orchestra of Piltover.”
“SOOP? Wow.”
Viktor smiled, a little embarrassed at such a reaction.
“What do you play?” asks Jayce, his hazel eyes still examining Viktor.
“The violin.” he answers with a smile.
“That's cool.” replies Jayce.
There's a new silence. The trumpeter takes a sip of his beer and leans back on his elbow on the counter.
“Why did you leave SOOP?”
“Eh. I needed a change. I didn't want to do it for a living.”
“So, what do you do for a living?”
“I'm a mechanical engineer. I conduct this orchestra in my spare time, a bit like a second job.”
Jayce's face lights up.
“Oh really? I'm also in science. I'm a physics teacher at the Uni.”
“Huh,” Viktor nods, pleasantly surprised. “It's pretty rare to see scientific musicians. Many wrongly assume that science and art are two completely different things, which can't be mixed.”
“Right? But they're so intertwined. I've noticed that those who are good at science are even better at music.”
“Absolutely.”
Viktor finishes his glass in one long gulp.
“It's cool that you're working at the Uni, it must be a lot shorter commute to rehearsals,” he jokes.
Jayce chuckles.
“Yeah, that's one good thing about it.”
Caitlyn joins them before the silence makes Viktor uneasy again. She stands behind her friend and places her hand on his shoulder.
“Hey guys. Didn't mean to interrupt. How are you doing?”
“Good!” replies Jayce. “We were just talking about our jobs. Science.”
“Ah. Finally, someone he can talk to about that...” she says to Viktor.
“Hey! Were you only pretending to be interested in what I'm saying when I talked to you about it?” Jayce retorts, his tone light but mock-offended.
“Of course not...”
Behind Jayce, she nods towards Viktor, a smirk on her face. He laughs. Jayce turns when he sees Viktor’s reaction but Caitlyn acts as if nothing has happened. He pushes her shoulder.
“Liar.”
The three laugh harder. Caitlyn pulls up a stool and comes to sit next to them. She orders three beers before the two men can refuse.
“Leave it. I'm feeling generous.”
Jayce rolls his eyes, a sign that this isn't the first time this has happened. Viktor watches their dynamic with a smile. He raises his glass.
“To this new session.”
***
It takes everything Viktor has to not fall asleep at his desk, pencil in hand and forehead on his graphics tablet. He's spent all day working on the prototype of a water filtration machine that would make the water in the river running between Piltover and Zaun clean. It's a project he's had for over a year, and despite contributions from his colleagues, he's still not finished it. Despite the constant difficulties, he's not about to give up. He'll do anything to stop more of Zaun's children getting sick, so they don't all end up like him.
His only motivation to finish this day is the thought that there's another practice tonight. Even if he must concentrate and socialize more than he does all week combined, it's still a place where he feels good. Where he belongs.
So, at 6:30 p.m., he finally gets up from his desk, leaning on his cane, and leaves his office. Walking through the streets of Piltover to their practice building, he takes deep breaths. The September sun hasn't set yet, and it's beating down hard on his face. It always impresses him how good life is here. No matter how many years he's lived in the city, those old Zaun feelings don't seem to have left him. After all, it's where he grew up. It's ingrained in his skin, in his body.
He arrives early, as usual, and settles down at his stool. He greets the musicians as they arrive one by one, while reviewing the scores. It's a routine he's grown to enjoy, and it puts him in the right mental state for the evening's practice.
At 7 p.m. sharp, he begins rehearsal. Today, they'll be working on Moonlight. He glances at the new violinists, who are smiling broadly. This piece, relatively simple compared to some of the others, still gives some musicians a hard time, especially the clarinetists, flutists and trumpeters. And to Viktor himself, with all those changes in tempo and time signature. He spent the weekend revising these changes so as not to make any mistakes. The musicians also seem to have practiced, as they perform particularly well. Even the dexterous bits for the flutes and clarinets, and even the trumpet solo, performed by Caitlyn, being the first chair in her section. Hugely talented, she plays her parts as smoothly as if they were easy. This solo allows her to improvise a little, as the rest of the musicians are in silence. She has the opportunity to play with tempos and notes, which she does brilliantly. Viktor can't help smiling at such talent.
He doesn't know if Caitlyn was telling the truth when she said Jayce was better than her. Being the most recent addition to the trumpet section, he plays the second part. There are three trumpeters, but Henry, the third, let Jayce do the second part. Viktor deduces that he must be pretty good. He wonders if he'll get the chance to see for himself.
At the end of the rehearsal, the sun has now set. The air is cool on Viktor's face. Unhurried and surprisingly serene, he takes his time walking home. His leg hurts a little more than usual, so he doesn't want to make it worse by going beyond his capabilities.
He puts on his headphones, selects Ludovico Einaudi's album Una Matina, and lets his gaze wander from the various white and gold buildings to the starry sky. Whereas he felt exhausted and stressed a few hours earlier, he now feels strangely at peace. Music has a way of doing that to him, just like taking a walk at night. It's a combo he's particularly fond of.
How could anyone be unhappy living here?
Chapter Text
Jayce feels himself bubbling up inside to the point where smoke would be coming out of his ears if he were a cartoon character.
He enters his room and slams the door behind him.
“Ah, of course. Very mature, Jayce!” shouts Mel, his girlfriend, from behind the door. “You can't always avoid me every time we fight.”
Jayce huffs and runs a hand through his hair, gripping the back of his neck in an attempt to calm himself.
“You know this is my room too, right? You won't be able to hide all night.”
Jayce clenches his jaw to keep from blurting out a scathing reply. He grabs his keys, phone, and jacket and exits the room. Without glancing once at Mel, despite her unstoppable mentions of his name, he heads for the front door.
“Fucking leave then! You coward!”
He walks out without a glance behind him.
Jayce goes to the first bar that comes to mind, the one where he and his new orchestra went after practice almost two weeks ago. He tries to calm his anger and the thoughts racing through his head. If he didn't walk away now, he knew he'd be doing or saying things he shouldn't. He desperately needs to drown his thoughts.
Quickly arriving, he sits down at the bar and orders a shot. Then two. Then three. He's not even aware of it when his heart finally stops racing and his desire to commit murder slowly dissipates.
“No, but you don't understand, man.” he says between sips of a beer he's just ordered. “My girlfriend, she's fucking crazy. She- she doesn't understand. She doesn't get it. I... She's not my top priority! There’s- there's more important things in life than some self-centered bitch.”
He finishes his sentence with his face already in his glass, taking another long sip. The bartender looks at him, one eyebrow raised, as if Jayce were the crazy one.
Jayce scoffs.
“I'm boring you, huh? You must hear the... the same damn thing every night.”
“Mhm.” he replies without a glance toward Jayce.
Fucking prick, he thinks.
“You know what I think? Break up with her.”
Jayce turns to the origin of the voice. A middle-aged man sitting two stools over is watching him, clearly having listened in on the conversation.
“N-no. I can't man. It’s been years, we live together and all.”
He shrugs.
“Doesn’t matter. Run away. That's the only advice I can give you. Don't stay in something that doesn't make you happy.”
Jayce grunts and finishes his drink in one gulp. If only it were that simple.
***
The first thing Jayce notices when he wakes up is the pain he feels throughout his body. His back hurts, his neck hurts, and a huge migraine is pounding in his head.
He blinks at the sun beating down on his face and straightens up. He's lying on a park bench. He sights and pinches the bridge of his nose as he recalls the events of the previous night. His bar outing, where he got shit-faced, and his argument with Mel.
It's not the first time they've fought. Contrary to what some may think, they are quite different. Not necessarily in their attitudes, but in their choices. Their needs. Jayce finds it extremely difficult to meet all her demands without putting his own sanity at stake.
However, last night was worse than it had ever been. He'd never left the apartment, even less had he spent the night away from home. He’d left the room, yes, but he always came back with an apology.
He knew he should go home, at least explain himself. He wanted to as much as he wanted to shoot himself, but he knew it would be worse if he waited any longer.
He hesitates for a few seconds as he arrives at the apartment’s front door. He prepares himself mentally to be scolded again. He sighs and enters.
He is surprised to find Mel sitting on a chair in the dining room. At this hour, she should still be asleep, Jayce having awakened at first light. Actually, she looks like she hasn’t slept at all. Her normally perfect appearance is replaced by a drained look. She looks up at Jayce when he enters, her eyes no longer displaying the anger of the night before. He doesn't move forward, as if frozen in place. He doesn't know what to say or how to react. She breaks the silence first.
“Can you come and sit down?”
He hesitates again. He doesn't know if he wants to take part in this conversation. However, she looks at him with eyes filled with such dismay and fatigue that he musters up the effort.
She looks at him for a moment as he sits down beside her, then looks away.
“I'm sorry for how I reacted yesterday.”
Jayce can't help but raise his eyebrows. An apology, now that's a first. On the other hand, he knows her too well to know that she said that sentence with something else in mind.
“...but?”
She turns back to him, as if shocked that he sees so well into her. She sighs.
“Did you even understand what I was trying to tell you?”
He scoffs. Is she really going to go there again?
“Don't laugh in my face” she spits out.
Jayce clenches his jaws but forces himself to calm down.
“I understood what you told me, yes.”
“And?”
“What 'And'? I told you how I felt.”
“Wrong. You didn't tell me, you shouted it at me.”
He shakes his head. Why is she purposely getting on his nerves? Does she want them to argue again?
“I don't understand how you can't put yourself in my shoes. I have a job that takes up a lot of my time. When I'm not in class teaching, I'm either giving my time to my students, preparing my next classes or correcting papers. I can't be with you every second of every day.”
“Or you're practicing” she says dryly.
“Yes. That too.”
“It sounds like you give more importance to your new orchestra than to me.”
“That's ridiculous, you know that. Am I not allowed to have a hobby?”
“Of course you are. It's just...” she looks away. “Sometimes I get the feeling you don't care about me. That you don't love me anymore.”
Jayce's heart sinks at seeing her so sad. It's rare to see her break her unattainable shell, and as much as he's frustrated because of her, he doesn't like knowing he's causing her pain. He places his hand on hers, resting on the table.
“…of course I care about you.”
The words ‘I love you’ get stuck in his throat. He feels unable to say them without them sounding untruthful.
“I don't want to hurt you,” he continues. “I just wish you'd understand.”
“Maybe we don't want the same things anymore...” she says almost in a whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” She withdraws her hand from beneath Jayce's. “You'd better get ready; you wouldn’t want to be late.”
He sighs. She knows too well what she's doing.
“I promise I'll make an effort.”
She smiles at him. Not because she's happy he'll try. But because she knows she's won the argument.
***
A few days later, Jayce is practicing a particularly difficult passage in one of the pieces when a very cheerful Mel enters the living room. She is holding two pieces of paper in front of her.
“You'll never guess what I bought us!”
He puts down his trumpet.
“What is it?”
She hands him a piece of paper, which he recognizes as a ticker. His eyes quickly scan the text and understand that it's tickets to go see the Piltover Symphony. SOOP.
He feels his heart fall to his feet as he reads the date of the concert. It's tomorrow. Thursday.
“What? Aren't you happy? I thought you'd be pleased.”
“Y-yes, of course” he forces a smile. “It's just... I have practice tomorrow.”
If he didn't know her, he'd almost believe the look of surprise and disappointment on her face.
“Oh. Oh no. Tomorrow’s Thursday? Shit... I forgot.”
She takes the ticket back from Jayce's hands.
“Fuck... I really wanted us to spend some time together... it's been so long.”
Jayce sighs. After all, missing just one night can't be that bad, right? If it'll give him a break from her attention-seeking demands for the next few days… if it'll make her happy...
“No, that's okay. I can miss practice this week...”
He notices a smile appear and then quickly disappear from Mel's face. She takes on a guilty look.
“No, no. I'd feel bad making you miss it.”
“Don't. It's decided.”
She smiles frankly.
“Great!” she leaves the room without another word.
Jayce sighs again as his gaze falls on the sheet music laid out on his stand in front of him. He feels a knot in his stomach. He doesn't like the idea of missing things, of being irresponsible. And he likes being taken for a fool even less. But he decides to play along.
He curses himself as he tries to refocus on his task, to no avail.
***
“Oh, isn’t it wonderful!”
Jayce nods. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, Mel really has gone all in. She's reserved a seat for them in the lodge, where they're served glasses of champagne and have an exceptional view of the stage. The concert hall is absolutely beautiful.
That's not the only thing that's beautiful. Mel took the time to carefully choose one of the most beautiful dresses in her wardrobe, a white one with gold embellishments, tied her hair up in an elegant bun and decorated her face with gold motifs reminiscent of those on her dress. Her green eyes, contrasting with her darker skin, lit up even more brightly with the lights of the room. She could charm any man.
Jayce turns his attention back to the stage as the orchestra and conductor enter the scene. The conductor greets the audience and, without further ado, begins the first piece, so magnificent that Jayce's breath is taken away.
A solo by the first violinist particularly moves him. He suddenly remembers what Viktor told him about playing the violin for SOOP. He wonders if the current player is his replacement, if it would have been him playing the solo.
An anxious feeling comes over him as he thinks about Viktor and the orchestra. He should be there.
He grabs the railing in front of him firmly to prevent himself from running out of the room and forces himself to turn his attention back to the performance.
Get a grip, he tells himself. If not for yourself, for her.
Notes:
i just want to say that i love Mel and that i simply wanted to represent a relationship that no longer works, where both people have their faults. it's in no way to hate on Mel
anyways, hope you enjoy so far <3
Chapter Text
As usual, Viktor places his cane beside him, sits down at his stool and takes out his sheet music. The musicians gradually enter, as they have every week. However, he notices something different; Caitlyn arrives alone, and seems surprised to find the chair next to her empty. Jayce isn't there.
When Viktor claps his hands to get the musicians' attention and start the practice, he sees Caitlyn looking at the front door and then tapping something on her phone. Clearly, she was unaware of Jayce's absence. As was Viktor, for that matter. He always tells his musicians to let him know when they'll be absent, giving them his phone number, but he got nothing from Jayce. He pushes aside his misplaced curiosity and starts the practice.
At the break, he heads for Caitlyn, who is chatting with Henry, the other trumpeter. As soon as she sees him, she interrupts herself to talk to him, with an apologetic look on her face.
“Viktor. I don’t know why Jayce isn't here… he's not answering his texts. He’s not usually like that, I promise.”
He smiles at her.
“It's really no big deal.”
“I just hope something hasn't happened to him. I'll try to call him.”
She takes a few steps away to make her call, nervously biting her nails. Viktor frowns at such a reaction. Either she really cares about him, or this must be very out of character for him. Or both.
Caitlyn turns back to Viktor and Henry, who had begun a discussion about their plans for the weekend. She shakes her head.
“It went to voicemail.”
Viktor puts his hand on her shoulder.
“Don't worry, I'm sure he’s alright.”
She nods and give him an uncertain smile.
***
“Viktor? The meeting is about to begin.”
Viktor grunts and painfully rises from his chair after spending too many long hours in it and follows his colleague out of his office.
“Hi everyone,” says Coleman, the boss, as Viktor sits in his chair, leaning on his cane. “As usual, we're going to go over our projects and progress and try to find solutions to any problems. Sky, would you like to start?”
The woman in question, who had previously been looking at Viktor, he realizes, suddenly looks away and stammers a yes as she opens her computer. She turns it to expose a complex blueprint.
“Today I finalized the last schematic of the exoskeleton. It should be ready for revision. I also contacted the factory manager who seemed interested in being the first to test the exoskeleton's capabilities on her workers.”
“Great. Did she respond?”
Sky nods and turns her computer back to her.
“She said...” she begins, reading something, “that there are still steps to be taken with the union, but that she should have authorization next week.”
“Great!” repeats Coleman, a big smile lighting up his wrinkled face. “Viktor?”
Viktor almost jumps at the mention of his name. The sharp pain currently afflicting his back makes it difficult for him to concentrate. He had started to wander, staring at the table in front of him and barely listening to what was going on around him.
“Do you want to tell us about what you did today?” continues his boss.
“Yeah, I uh...” he begins, straightening in his chair. “I finally solved a calculation problem in our schematics for our car battery.”
His interlocutor looks at him with raised eyebrows, as if waiting for the next part. When he realizes it's not coming, he nods slowly.
“...okay. Anything else?”
Viktor's mouth opens and then closes, unsure if he should confess what he's spent most of his day on, again.
“I've been testing new membranes on the water filter computer prototype.”
Coleman sighs. Viktor can already feel his face warming.
“Viktor, I know this project is close to your heart, but it shouldn't take precedence over the others you've been assigned. This isn't your first warning.”
He pinches the bridge of his nose. Viktor prepares himself mentally for the impact.
“Maybe we should consider letting go of the project, don't you think?”
He scoffs at the question, though all too predictable.
“I can't.”
Coleman raises an eyebrow.
“If you don't finish the initial calculations for the battery and achieve any kind of advancements with the filter by Friday, its founding will be cut off.” he says firmly.
“But...”
He raises his hand to cut Viktor off.
“I'm sorry, but I have no choice. You're an extremely important asset to this company. I can't drain our budget on something that leads to nothing when your talents could be used for other projects of greater importance.”
Viktor presses his lips firmly together. Retorting wouldn’t lead to anything, but that doesn't stop him from boiling inside. He feels the red creeping up his face, as much from anger as from the terrible sense of humiliation he feels at being reprimanded in such a way in front of his colleagues. He feels infantilized, a feeling he's experienced far too many times in his life and who drives him crazy.
He forces a smile that he knows looks fake.
“Understood.”
***
Viktor's fingers slide over the strings like fish in water, his bow gliding to the rhythm of the music, reaching every note as if they each have a reason to exist. He's not just playing music, he's living it. He closes his eyes for a moment and lets himself be carried away by what he's playing.
When he finishes the piece, he reopens his eyes and lets out a breath he hadn't noticed he was holding.
He is sitting in front of the living room window of his apartment, overlooking a park in a more modest district of Piltover. The light of day has all but disappeared, and only the dim glow of one of his floor lamps illuminates his music sheets. He stows his violin in its case and places it at the foot of his chair.
He takes a breath, feeling the knot in his chest slowly return. When he plays music, he's able to forget what's bothering him for a fleeting moment, until the sound fades and he's brought back to reality.
He begins his evening routine, started by downing his phenomenal dose of pills, as his mind races. Since Monday, he's felt anxious every minute of every day. He feels the end of the week coming faster and faster, and he still hasn't solved the problem that's preventing him from continuing with the creation of his filter. As requested by his boss, Viktor completed the initial calculations for the car batteries, helped by his colleague Sky, who seemed very keen to give him a hand.
However, because of this, he didn't have as much time to devote to his filter. The problem remains unsolved, and Viktor sleepless.
Even today, he finds himself staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. The musical piece he's just played is still present in his mind, like a background noise, and he can't help but think of the equations he's trying to work out. His mind far too busy to be able to sleep a wink, Viktor gets up and heads to his desk to write down a few words and possible modifications for his work. However, without the computer prototype in front of him, there's not much he can do. And in any case, even at his desk, with the prototype and his calculations, he can't seem to come up with conclusive enough results. He seems to have hit a wall. He sees only one solution: ask someone else to look at his project. Someone with a fresh look on the whole thing.
***
The next day, Viktor heads for the trumpet section during the practice break, gripping his cane tightly, more to preserve his composure than to lean on it so much. He feels uncomfortable doing what he's about to do, but he can't see any other solution.
“Jayce? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Without even paying attention, Viktor’s just interrupted the conversation between the three trumpeters, who look at him quizzically, and Jayce seems anxious. Viktor curses himself mentally for his lack of tact, but he has bigger problems on his mind.
“Yes, all right.”
The tall man follows Viktor a few steps further where he can talk to him personally.
Before he can get a word in, Jayce starts talking fast, anxiously.
“I'm sorry I wasn't there last week. I know punctuality and attendance are important things in an orchestra and I'll make sure to-”
Viktor raises his hand to interrupt him.
“It's all right. We all have situations that get beyond our control, I understand that. That's not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
Jayce's shoulders drop. Clearly, his absence was weighing heavily on his conscience, and he feels relieved. To be honest, Viktor didn't even remember it.
“Oh. Okay. What's up?”
“I was wondering if I could ask you a favor.”
Jayce raises an eyebrow, surprised, and waits for Viktor to continue.
“I'm working on a project at my job, and I've gotten stuck on something that I can't seem to be able to work out. I'd need someone to take a look at it, and seeing as you work in science...”
Viktor feels very foolish asking this, as if confessing his incompetence.
"Oh."
Jayce's expression softens. He smiles at him.
"Of course. I'd be happy to."
"Really?"
Viktor is surprised that he agrees so easily, without even asking for more details.
Jayce nods.
"Monday, I have a long lunch break. I'd probably have time to drop by, if you don’t work too far away.”
"Actually, I need to solve the problem before tomorrow ends. I..." Viktor scratches the back of his head, feeling bad for being so demanding. "I, uh, brought my laptop and my plans, in case you have time after practice."
Jayce opens his mouth, as if he's about to respond, then hesitates. He glances at his phone, as if checking the time, before looking back at Viktor.
"Uh... yeah. Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay," he repeats. "We can go to my office. It's just one floor up."
Viktor can't suppress his smile.
"Thank you so much, you're a lifesaver!"
Jayce chuckles lightly.
"Wait to see if I can actually help you before saying that."
Viktor laughs in return, but he has a good feeling. His filter will come to life — he tries to convince himself of it.
***
“It's right here.”
Jayce opens his office door and flips on the light. He steps inside and Viktor follows. A quick glance around the room gives him a better sense of Jayce's personality. Although the room is relatively small, it doesn't feel oppressive. It's filled with various objects, plants and decorations. Everything seems to have its place.
Jayce motions at Viktor to sit at his desk. He complies and takes his laptop out of his bag, while the other man stands behind him. The dim light from the ceiling lamp and the moonlight through the window illuminate the desk and the various objects on it. Viktor's gaze falls on a framed photo of Jayce and an older woman. His mother, he imagines. He smiles.
“So, what's this project?” asks Jayce.
Viktor opens his software where his schematics and the computerized prototype are. Jayce leans over his shoulder, one hand on the desk, to observe them.
“It's a filter that would be used in the river. Especially on Zaun's side.”
“To remove all those dangerous pollutants...” murmurs Jayce, examining the plans. “It's brilliant. Extremely ambitious, but brilliant.”
“Yeah well, I can't seem to complete it. Any type of membrane I try always gives me the same result and I've tried lots of different equations to change the motor's intensity.”
Jayce fetches a chair from the opposite corner and comes to sit next to him.
“What's this filter made of?”
His immediate involvement and concentration give Viktor hope. Their brains seem to work the same way, seem to be driven by the same things.
“Activated charcoal. It holds the unwanted molecules on the surface and lets the rest pass through.”
“Hm. Right.”
Jayce frowns.
“Do you have a physical prototype with which you can test your theories?”
“No. My company won't give me permission right away until I have a viable computer prototype.”
Jayce scoffs, but with no real humor.
“They don't seem very permissive. Were they also the one to give you tomorrow's deadline?”
Viktor nods, a lock of hair falling in front of his eyes which he quickly pushes back behind his ear.
“Yes. They don't like us doing personal projects.”
“So this all your idea?”
He turns his attention away from the computer to glance at Viktor. The latter, thanks to the moonlight illuminating Jayce's face, is able to notice his impressed expression.
“Yeah. It's a project I've had for a long time, but if I don't sort it out now, the company's going to cut off the funding. And at that point, I can say goodbye to the construction and distribution of the filter.”
“Can I ask you where the desire to do this project came from?”
“Well...” Viktor exhales. “I'm from Zaun. I've seen the impact of pollutants on people, especially children. I experience them myself.”
Jayce nods thoughtfully. He points to the cane laid on the desk beside them.
“Is that what this is about? Your leg?”
Viktor shakes his head and lets out a chuckle.
“Not even. That's genetic.” He stretches his leg to glance at his customed brace, which holds his leg in place and prevents further pain. “I just haven't been lucky in life, I guess.”
He returns his gaze to Jayce. “No I... I have a chronic illness. No doctor has been able to figure out exactly what it is, but I still have a ton of medication to try and simplify my life.”
The taller man gives him an apologetic look.
“Oh, I didn't know. That's... awful.”
“Yeah. But I manage.”
Jayce nods with a pinched smile and turns his attention back to the screen. He raises his hand toward the trackpad.
"May I?"
Viktor removes his hand. Jayce zooms in on certain aspects of the prototype and examines various calculations. After a moment, he pauses.
"It's going to take me a while to go through everything."
The conductor gets the message and stands up to give him space.
"I'll go get us some coffee."
***
Through the window, Viktor observes the lights of the various buildings opposite the university. An apartment on the third floor in front has not closed its curtains or lights. Thanks to the darkness, Viktor is able to make out two people who seem to be dancing in their living room. He smiles.
Jayce's voice cuts the silence and brings Viktor back to reality.
“I might have something...” he mumbles.
Viktor returns to sit beside the trumpeter as quickly as he can and looks at the screen. Jayce has opened many pages and is browsing the one for a material unknown to Viktor.
“I don't think it's the membranes or the motor that's the problem. I think your filter just doesn't have the necessary compounds to trap all the pollutants.”
Viktor raises an eyebrow to encourage him to continue.
“I’d heard of small plastic beads, called resins, which are used in electronics to protect printed circuit boards from moisture and mechanical damage. I believe that by combining the activated charcoal and the resins, the filter would be more efficient, probably enough to clean the river.”
Viktor's jaw drops slightly. He turns the computer towards him and quickly reads what Jayce has written down, a smile growing on his face as he realizes the importance of the discovery.
“Resins... they are structural components in some of the company's automobiles… Are you sure they’d be helpful?”
“I think so. Some are specially designed to eliminate certain molecules.”
“Yes…” Viktor continues reading, a feeling of euphoria growing inside him. “Yes, it could work.”
He turns to Jayce, who shows the same excited smile as he does.
“You're a genius, Jayce.”
He chuckles.
“Glad I could help.”
Viktor smiles at him and returns his attention to the computer. He opens the prototype and quickly examines it, as if to confirm something.
“If I start tonight, I should be finished with my research and the addition of the resins by tomorrow night...” he mumbles to himself.
“I can stay and keep helping you, if you’d like.”
“That's very kind, but I've kept you here long enough as it is.”
He looks at his watch to confirm what he's saying; indeed, it's already 11pm.
Jayce nods but doesn't seem totally convinced. Still, he rises from his chair, smoothing out the creases in his shirt.
“You're right. You've got my number, right? On my sign-up sheet for the orchestra?”
“Yes...?”
“Keep me posted on the progress. Let me know if you need me again.”
“Okay.” replies Viktor with a smile. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. I'll let you put your things away, just close the door behind you.”
“Got it.”
With that, Jayce gives him one last smile and leaves the room. Viktor watches him go, still incredulous. He looks at the prototype again and can't suppress a sigh of relief.
He will be forever indebted to Jayce.
Chapter Text
The door frame creaks as Jayce tries to discreetly enter the bedroom. All the lights are closed but he is able to make out Mel's form under the covers. He observes her steady breathing and lets out a small sigh of relief that she hasn't woken up.
He sits down at the end of the bed, removes his shoes, and changes into his pyjamas, which simply means a fresh pair of briefs. He slips under the sheets, taking care not to wake Mel, who's lying with her back to him. A thin smile appears on Jayce’s face as he thinks back on the day's accomplishments. He enjoys feeling useful, and he really hopes his contributions to Viktor’s filter will be helpful.
Jayce had just closed his eye when a voice broke the silence, startling him as much as if it were a gunshot breaking the stillness of the night.
“Where have you been?”
The man freezes and his muscles tense. He hesitates a few seconds before answering.
“I was at the university.”
“I thought your practice ended at nine.”
Her back is still turned, but Jayce hears the reproach in her voice.
“It did... I stayed at my office. A... colleague… needed help with something.”
Admitting to her that he helped Viktor, his conductor, would only reinforce her idea that he cares more about the orchestra than he does about her.
“This late in the evening?”
Jayce doesn't answer. He inhales a shaky breath.
“Couldn't you just give me a call?” she continues.
“I'm sorry.”
He knows he's acted irresponsibly and apologizing comes naturally, even though he probably wouldn't have acted differently.
Mel sighs and shifts under the sheets.
“I'm going back to bed. Good night, Jayce.”
Her tone is icy. Somehow, her abandonment of the conversation and the fact that she doesn't seem to want to fight with him sends shivers down Jayce's spine. This can't bode well.
“Good night.”
He turns so that he too has his back to his girlfriend. Despite being only inches away, he's never felt so distant from her.
***
Jayce is awakened shortly before his alarm by the sound of Mel rummaging through their dresser. He opens his eyes painfully, shielding them from the brightness of the ceiling light.
“What's going on?” he mumbles, his voice still hoarse, roughened by the dryness of the morning.
Mel places a suitcase on the bed and starts filling it with clothes.
“I'm going to stay with my mother for a few days,” she says simply.
Jayce sits up on one shoulder, still dazed from sleep but quickly being brought back to reality as he understands what's going on.
“Mel...”
She finally interrupts her frantic movement to look at him. Her eyes and dark circles betray her weariness, and her badly done bun her eagerness.
“Jayce.”
He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Is this it? You give up?”
“I’m not giving up,” she replies, resuming her folding of clothes. “I need a break. To think, to recharge my batteries.”
“You want us to take a break?”
She turns back to the dresser and rummages through another drawer, completely unfazed by what Jayce is saying. The latter looks at her incredulously.
“That's not what I said. I need a break. That's all.”
The man straightens up completely and rubs his eyes in an attempt to make any last trace of sleep disappear.
“Can't we just talk about it?”
She stops her movement short but doesn't turn around.
“I've talked enough,” she says dryly.
Jayce sighs; he feels a heavy weight building in his chest.
“There's nothing I can tell you that will change your mind, is there?”
She returns to the suitcase and answers without giving him a single glance.
“Not anymore, no.”
Mel closes the suitcase and heads for the door, past Jayce. In a last desperate effort, he clutches her hand.
“Mel, please.”
She glares at him and yanks her hand away curtly.
“I'll see you in a few days.”
Her figure, made ghostly by her white dress, disappears into the doorway, as if it were all a bad dream. However, her absence from the bed, the disemboweled dresser and the heavy silence in the apartment are signs that don't lie. She's truly gone.
***
“Alright class, you can get your notebooks out, we'll pick up where we left off last time.”
Jayce clutches his cup of coffee placed on the desk in front of him and takes a long sip. His attention back on the class in front of him, he notices several intrigued glances and a raised hand in the front row.
“Yes, Andrew?”
“You told us on Monday that you'd give us our grades from the last test at the beginning of Friday's session… which is today.”
He pauses as if weighing his words.
“Do you… have them?”
Jayce takes a deep breath to avoid retorting something cold to his most fervent student. Worst of all is, yes, he does have them. They're on the dining table in his apartment – in his state of shock this morning, he acted completely mechanically and forgot about them. But at the moment, he's not in the mood to handle a stuck-up who's a little too hung up on his grades.
“Unfortunately, no. I... underestimated the time it would take to correct everything. I apologize for that. You'll have them on Monday without fail.”
The student, though visibly disappointed, takes the answer. Jayce continues with his lesson, opening his PowerPoint on rectilinear motion.
It's a miracle he makes it through the next three hours, as at several points he loses track of what he's saying, he simply starts reading the PowerPoint or he forgets something important to understanding the material, which the students remind him of each time they ask him to elaborate.
Time seems to pass strangely slowly when the end-of-month load normally keeps him busy. He eats his lunch alone in his office, staring blankly in front of him, his mind not letting him take a single break.
When he returns home in the evening after another class that has gone more or less the same way as the first, he is unable to practice his trumpet, something he has normally made part of his Friday routine. Instead, he mindlessly bores himself in front of a reality show on TV with the end of a six-pack of beer he finds in the fridge. Anything to smother his thoughts.
The truth is, he feels a lump in his stomach, as if an animal were gnawing at his insides – the fear of having ruined everything with his girlfriend of three years, and the guilt of having been the cause.
He goes to bed much earlier than usual. As he slips into bed, he barely realizes that his phone is ringing. He turns his back to the bedside table, where the object lies, and finds himself staring at the empty spot beside him. He closes his eyes.
***
As he painfully wakes up to the sound of car horns directly below his bedroom window, Jayce grabs his phone to find out what time it is. 8 am. He grunts and is about to let himself fall back to sleep when he notices a notification; he has a new voicemail. He vaguely remembers the call he ignored the night before and a pang of anxiety sweeps through his chest before he realizes he doesn't know the number. It can't be Mel.
He throws his legs out of bed and rubs his eyes, still feeling heavy with sleep even though he's slept more than he has in months.
Brushing his teeth, Jayce listens to the voicemail, his phone on speaker mode placed on the counter next to him. Even if the number remains unknown to him, he immediately recognizes who it belongs to; the distinct Eastern European accent doesn't lie.
“Hi Jayce. This is Viktor. I hope I'm not disturbing you; you asked me to give you some updates about the filter so uh, here goes.”
The conductor pauses, and Jayce stops his movement, toothbrush still in mouth. Somehow, with the recent events, he'd come to forget Viktor's project. Intrigued more than ever, he eagerly waits for him to resume.
“It worked!” Viktor lets out a breath. “The filter has become an official company project; it should be created within the next year or so.”
Jayce can't suppress his smile. He quickly finishes brushing his teeth while Viktor continues talking into his phone.
“So, I just wanted to say thank you. It wouldn't have been possible without your help.”
Another pause. Jayce rinses his mouth.
Viktor draws a slight sigh.
“Anyways. I'll see you on Thursday. Good night.”
Jayce watches his phone, motionlessly, as the voicemail ends. He chuckles, having difficulty assimilating the information. It really worked.
He picks up the phone and is about to call Viktor back, but stops, his finger hovering over the button. It's early on a Saturday morning and he has no idea whether the conductor is a morning person or not. Considering that he seemed to have no problem staying up late at night, Jayce leans more towards no. It can wait until Thursday.
***
He had returned to his previous day's position, slumped on his couch in front of the TV, when his phone started ringing again. This time, he immediately straightens up and answers without even looking to see who the call is from.
“Hello?”
“Jayce? Where are you?”
Caitlyn. Her tone betrays a mixture of annoyance and concern. Jayce frowns.
“At home...? What's going on?”
His friend scoffs on the other end of the line.
“You really don't remember?”
Jayce’s thoughts whirl as he quickly sifts through his memories, trying to pinpoint what he’s supposed to remember. And then it hits him. His face drops.
“Shit. I'm so sorry.”
He runs his hand through his hair.
“I completely forgot.”
“I can see that. I've been waiting for you at the restaurant for half an hour.”
He sighs.
“I'm sorry, Cait.” he repeats.
“It’s fine. Get your ass here though, I'm not waiting an hour for you.”
“Erm...”
Jayce glances down at his attire, an old t-shirt and boxer shorts. He knows very well that he's far from ready or disposed to leave his apartment soon.
“I...”
He bites his lip. He hates letting Caitlyn down when she had made time for him.
“Why don't you come over to my place instead? Besides, the time it would take me to get ready would be just as long as you coming here.”
“Mel's not there?”
“No, she uh...” he swallows. “I'll explain it to you.”
She sighs.
“Okay. But you better tell me what's going on with you because you've been acting fucking weird lately.” she replies with no real angst in her tone.
Jayce nods even though Caitlyn can't see him.
“Right.”
“I'll be there in 20 minutes.”
She hangs up. Jayce drops the phone on the couch next to him and a glance around makes him realize he'd better get started. Right now.
He turns off the TV, picks up and puts away the empty beer cans scattered around the living room and heads to his bedroom to grab some clean clothes. After putting them on, he heads for the bathroom.
His reflection in the mirror almost startles him. He's in a pitiful state. His hair is a mess and large dark circles dull his eyes, even though he's done nothing but sleep for the last 24 hours. He's never seen himself in such a state. He does his best to tidy up his appearance, splashing cold water on his face, but unfortunately, all it does is send a shiver through his entire body.
When Jayce opens the door, Caitlyn's first reaction is not to greet him, but rather to frown.
“Did you sleep last night?”
Jayce lets out a sound somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle and gives her a hug.
“Good to see you too.”
She remains puzzled but doesn’t reply, and she follows Jayce to the living room. He asks her to sit down while he goes in the kitchen to get something for them to eat. They were supposed to have lunch together, after all. He winces as he realizes there's not much in the fridge – Mel’s the one who does most of the grocery shopping, even if they both cook. He resigned himself to putting a frozen pizza in the oven.
“So?” asks Caitlyn the second Jayce sits down on the couch. “What's going on?”
Jayce opens his mouth, tempted to tell her everything's fine, but stops himself. He's told her he would explain, so he must force himself, even if it means admitting his failures and facing the situation head-on. He sighs as Caitlyn settles more comfortably on the couch, her legs pulled up against her, as if she knows he has a lot to say.
“I think Mel is going to break up with me.”
Caitlyn's face softens. She listens attentively as Jayce recounts in detail the recent events, from their fight two weeks ago to the events of the previous day. Not for a second does her gaze betray judgment or criticism, simply compassion. When he finishes talking, he feels drained and exhausted, both physically and mentally.
“I think her going away is a good thing.” she says at last, breaking the silence that was becoming heavy.
“What?” Jayce can’t understand that this was what she's taken from his long rant about his frazzled relationship.
“You had already told me that you felt like you were suffocating in your relationship,” she explains. “The fact that she's giving you space for a few days will give you a chance to see if you wouldn't be… better off without her.”
Jayce sighs, but his friend is right.
“Do you miss her?” she asks.
“No.” he answers quickly.
He'd felt many things since Mel's departure – confusion, guilt to be sure – but not the weight of her absence.
“Do you still love her?”
Jayce scoffs, finding Caitlyn's questions becoming nagging. “Yes” would be the sensible answer, the answer he should give, but…
“I... I don't seem to feel what could be considered… love for her anymore.”
She gives him a knowing smile.
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Since when do you know so much about love?”
Caitlyn cracks a cheeky smile and raises an eyebrow.
“You do know I have a girlfriend, right?”
Jayce opens his mouth, then closes it again. Yes, he knew. But had he forgotten it because he struggles to see Caitlyn as anything other than the little girl he thought of as his sister? Also yes.
“Right. I... I didn't know if you... loved her like that.” he stammers.
“I do.”
Jayce chuckles.
“At least one of us is sure of their feelings.”
She laughs with him, but the ringing of the oven interrupts them.
Jayce stands up, still smiling.
“Pizza's ready!”
Chapter Text
A knock on the half-open door of his office snaps Viktor out of his calculations. He turns his head and recognizes the voice of his colleague Sky, whom he can briefly make out in the doorway.
“Viktor? Can I ask you a favor?”
“Yes, you can come in,” he replies, a little confused as to why she's still standing outside.
“Actually,” she chuckles softly, “that's why I need help.”
Viktor raises an eyebrow, puzzled, but gets up and opens the door anyway. His eyes widen as he takes in the scene; Sky is holding a stack of two huge cardboard boxes in her arms. Her face barely sticks out above the pile.
“I know you can't really help me with those, but can you make room for me on the desk behind you?”
“Erm, okay...”
He turns back and packs papers into more compact piles on the desk to give Sky a place to put her boxes on.
“Can I ask what all this is for?”
“Since we've both been assigned to the filter project,” she begins, before pausing to drop the boxes heavily onto the wooden desk. “I was also assigned this office to make our work easier.”
Viktor’s heart drop to his feet. Impossible.
“I thought I had asked Coleman for an individual office,” he mumbles a little more to himself than to Sky.
“Actually, it was my suggestion.”
An embarrassed smile on her lips, she scratches the back of her head. Viktor notices that her cheeks have a rosy tinge, probably from both the effort of carrying the boxes and her discomfort.
“Since we're working on the filter together, and you're already helping me a lot with the exoskeleton, I thought it would be easier this way. Plus, your office was originally designed for two…”
Seeing that Viktor doesn't respond, she quickly adds.
“If you're worried about me bothering you, I promise you won't even notice I'm here!”
Viktor takes a deep breath. He's reacting irrationally, he's aware of that, but he feels as if his personal space is being invaded.
“No, it's okay. It's a good idea-”
He barely finishes his word when a coughing fit prevents him from continuing.
Sky looks at him worriedly as he sits up painfully in his chair, leaning on his cane, his cough gradually stopping.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes. I just swallowed wrong,” he lies.
He turns back and leans over his spreadsheets.
“I'll let you settle in.”
“Okay” hesitantly replies his young colleague.
Viktor swallows hard, suppressing another coughing fit. However, it's impossible to ignore the burning feeling in his chest.
***
Later in the week, Viktor glances out of the window and watches the sun slowly begin to lower in the sky. He notices that the tree opposite his workplace has already begun to change color, its leaves turning from deep green to golden yellow.
The mention of his name snaps him out of his daydreams.
“Hm?” he turns to face his colleague behind him.
“I was wondering... if you're not doing anything tonight... I was thinking of going for a drink before I go home and uh...”
Viktor stops breathing and his heart accelerates. Is she asking him to go out with her?
“Anyway, I was just wondering if... you'd like to join me,” she finishes in the same hesitant tone, the red rising to her cheeks.
Yes, she is. Fuck.
Viktor had never been happier to already have something planned so that his excuse wouldn't sound false.
“I'm sorry, Sky, but I can't tonight. I conduct an orchestra on Thursday nights.”
“Oh, okay.” She looks disappointed but smiles at him. “I didn't know, that sounds really exciting.”
Viktor forces a smile in return.
“Yeah, it’s great.”
She nods, her embarrassment very visible.
“Another time, then.”
“Yes. Perhaps.”
Viktor turns around quickly. With his back to Sky, he rests his chin in his hand, his eyes still wide with shock. How could he not have seen this coming?
He has nothing against the young scientist, but nothing would mortify him more than going on a date with her. He doesn't know how to let her know he's not interested in her – and never will be.
***
“Good job guys, we’ll stop here for today. You've made great progress so far, and I'm counting on you to keep practicing the places that are giving you more of a hard time!”
The musicians begin to put away their sheets and instruments, the noise filling the room.
“I'll see some of you at the bar for this month's outing, and otherwise have a great week!” concludes Viktor, raising his voice to be heard over the commotion.
He puts his things away, greets a few nearby musicians and leaves the room. He wants to get a head start to get to the bar, knowing that he walks more slowly than most.
He walks down the steps of the university's music wing, drawing a deep breath of the crisp air of early October. A gust of wind makes him shiver and he zips up his jacket.
As he begins his walk through the now quiet streets of Piltover, he hears his musicians exiting the building in a joyful hubbub.
Suddenly, the noise gets closer, and more distinctly footsteps. Viktor turns his head and sees Jayce speeding up to catch up with him.
“Hello Jayce” he smiles.
“Hi” he replies, a little out of breath, as he slows his pace to match Viktor's.
“Did you have a good week?”
Viktor notices Jayce's smile diminish somewhat at the question. “This is what I get for trying to make small talk...” he thinks.
“It was fine. You? I got your voicemail about the filter! That's such good news!”
Viktor, grateful not to have to push further on Jayce's initial discomfort, is pleased to see the latter’s enthusiasm return.
“Really” he says in the same lively tone. “I was afraid that despite the modifications, they still wouldn't let me work on it, but no. It worked.”
Jayce nods, a proud smile lighting up his face despite the darkness.
“Good work, Talis.” teases Viktor.
“Talis?” he chuckles. “Well, my pleasure… uh...”
Viktor can't refrain from laughing.
“That won’t work with me.”
“Huh?” Jayce’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean that won’t work? What’s your last name?”
“I don’t have one” he simply answers.
“What? How so?”
Jayce's incredulous look only fuels Viktor's laughter.
“That's a Piltover thing, not a Zaun one.”
“You don’t have last names?!”
The conductor shakes his head.
“Nope. I guess we don't really value family status as much as you do.”
Jayce nods, though still confused.
“But how do you deal with important papers?”
“My papers are from Zaun. If I had to redo them here, then yes, I'd probably have to figure out a last name for myself.”
Jayce chuckles and slowly shakes his head, as if still trying to process the information. The movement makes his hair move in front of his eyes, made almost golden by the light of the streetlamps.
“No choice then, you'll have to take your girlfriend's last name if you get married.”
Viktor scoffs at Jayce’s joke, but suddenly the burning feeling he'd felt in his throat a few days ago returns with full force and makes him cough strongly. He has no choice but to stop, leaning back against his cane long enough to calm his fit.
As he catches his breath, Viktor feels a hand on his shoulder. Jayce watches him with a worried look.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes, I'm fine.” he manages to reply after a few seconds, his gaze wandering for a moment over the hand covering almost his entire shoulder.
“That was a strong reaction to the mention of marriage.” continues Jayce in the same light tone as he withdraws his hand and resumes his walk.
Viktor scoffs and starts walking again too, gripping his cane a little tighter as he notices his back hurting more from the coughing.
“Yeah, that’s what it was.”
Even though Jayce is laughing again, there's only one thought occupying Viktor's mind.
I really need to go see the doctor again.
***
After a few drinks, the musicians chat happily, the alcohol making discussions livelier and easier. Divided into two groups, one at the counter and one around a table, a dozen musicians are gathered that evening. Viktor sits at the table with Jayce, Caitlyn, and Henry. And Rob, though he hasn't said much since the beginning.
“At that point, the carriage was shaking so much, I was really afraid it wasn't going to hold.” says Jayce, continuing a story he’d started, the other four hanging on his every word.
However, at these words, Viktor frowns. The further Jayce goes into the story, the more Viktor begins to put the pieces together. An inventors' competition several years ago… a project he'd done as part of his university course that he'd decided to present… the fact that it almost broke, but ended up working, awarding him first place...
“Wait, are you talking about the Distinguished Innovators competition?”
Jayce turns to him as he has just finished his story.
“Yes... You know about it?”
“I was there.”
Viktor chuckles as he recalls the evening's events.
“So, you were the one who almost took someone's eye out with a loose cog?”
Caitlyn giggles at that.
“Seems to fit the character pretty well if you ask me.”
Jayce pretends to be offended, bringing his hand to his chest.
“Hey, not fair! Nobody got hurt, and it worked just fine!”
Viktor rolls his eyes but can't suppress a smile.
“Yeah. Enough to steal first place from me.”
Jayce tilts his head a little, his eyebrows furrowing but a small smile on his lips.
“I can't believe you were there, and I didn't know about it. What a coincidence, though” he scoffs. “So, you came in second?”
Viktor is as shocked by this discovery as Jayce, and maybe even more so. How could he not recognize the one he'd secretly hated for beating him? He nods.
“Yes. Somehow your innovation was better than my talking robot.”
Jayce laughs, then, looking mock proud, he puffs out his chest and raises his arms triumphantly in the air.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the best inventor at this table!”
Viktor should retort, join in on Jayce's joke, but his words catch in his throat when he notices something that stops him short; raising his arms in the air, Jayce has managed to pop one of the buttons on his already quite unbuttoned and quite tight shirt, revealing his chest and defined muscles.
And oh, the thoughts that rush into Viktor's mind at that moment are so utterly mortifying that he looks away, feeling his cheeks burning with embarrassment.
He clears his throat.
“Yeah, right” he says, not meeting anyone’s eyes, trying to keep his sarcastic tone but failing miserably.
He prays that no one has noticed his change in behavior. He takes a sip of his beer, hiding his face in the glass.
God… pull yourself together.
Chapter Text
For an hour now, Jayce has been practising the same parts of Moonlight repeatedly. The longer he practices, the more physically and mentally tired he becomes, so he's getting worse and worse. He takes a deep breath to calm the urge to throw his trumpet across the room.
He almost jumps when he hears noises from the entrance. Keys in the door. He freezes. It had been a while since he'd heard that sound, and he was beginning to wonder if he ever would.
The door opens and Jayce recognizes the familiar click of shoes on the floor. The sound of earrings clinking together. The sound of a coat being placed on a hook, of shoes being removed.
“Jayce?”
That voice, even more familiar than the sounds of shoes and earrings. It makes him shiver. He finally puts his instrument down and turns around on his chair.
“Mel.”
She stands in the doorway, a smile on her lips. She looks much better than the last time he saw her.
“I'm glad to be back,” she says.
Jayce is speechless. He didn’t expect this much levity from her return.
Mel strides toward him, and without uttering another word, places her hands on his cheeks and kisses him. Taken by surprise, Jayce doesn't react, even when Mel sits in his lap.
When he finally recovers from the initial shock, he pushes his head away.
“Mel...”
“I've missed you.” she murmurs before leaning in to kiss him again.
Jayce puts a hand on her shoulder and gently pushes her away, frowning.
“I-you...”
The expression on Mel's face, a mixture of confusion and desire, almost makes him want to give in. It reminds him of their very beginnings. But he knows nothing is the same anymore.
“You can't just... show up like this... act like nothing happened,” he manages to say.
The faint smile still present on her face disappears. She stands up.
“I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me.”
“I-” Jayce scoffs and run his hand through his hair.
It's as if his brain is frozen; he can't think, let alone come up with a coherent answer.
“Aren't you happy to see me again?”
Jayce opens his mouth, then closes it again, unsure which way to take this unexpected conversation.
“You can understand that I'm… surprised by all this. You left on a whim, in a rage... and now you come back to me all happy and kiss me out of the blue…”
Mel glares at him and for once, Jayce has trouble reading her.
“I've had time to think,” she begins slowly. “I want to start afresh.”
“And you didn't want to have a conversation instead of attacking me like that?”
“Attacking you?” she scoffs. “You used to like it when I greeted you that way.”
“Not anymore, Mel. We can't just pretend like nothing happened.”
“Why not?”
Jayce sighs. Over the past week, he'd thought of many ways this conversation could go, but this goes off every script he'd crafted in his head.
“Because it's not going to get any better if we just avoid the issue.”
Mel looks away and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
“We've already tried talking about it. You know how that ended.”
“Precisely. It might be too late.”
“What?” she brings her gaze back to him.
Jayce swallows.
“I've been doing a lot of thinking myself. This is not working, Mel.”
Jayce feels a lump form in his throat, reinforced by the image of Mel biting the inside of her cheek and turning away once more. He stands up and moves closer to her.
“My mother was right.” she says in a small voice.
“What do you mean?”
“She suggested something I thought was ridiculous, something I immediately disagreed with. It was impossible to accept, but now...”
She plunges her now glassy eyes back into his, and their intensity sends shivers down Jayce’s spine.
“Are you cheating on me?”
Jayce's eyes widen. Of all the things she could have said to him, this was the last he'd expected.
“No?! How can you believe a thing like that?”
He lets out a humorless chuckle. He didn't think Mel would think so little of him.
“I thought we'd agreed that you wouldn't let your mother influence you in such a way, you know how she is.”
“Do not speak ill of my mother.”
She's angry now. Jayce doesn't understand how it could have escalated so quickly.
“I've never cheated on you, Mel.” he says in a firm voice, laying his hand on her shoulder. At this gesture, she stares at him.
“I may have a thousand flaws” he continues, “but I'd never do something like that.”
She releases herself from his grip and takes a few steps back. She turns her back to him and holds her head in her hand. She sighs.
“Then what is it?”
“We don't want the same things anymore.”
“I know it's more than that.”
Jayce feels the lump in his throat beginning to impact how he speaks, and his eyes start to prickle.
“I've tried. I've tried to convince myself that the reason I couldn’t make an effort was because I was tired, burned out, whatever. But I just don't have the strength to pretend anymore.”
His feelings finally got the better of him, and tears streak Jayce's face. He doesn't know why he's hurting so much when he's the one doing the damage right now.
“I'm sorry,” he says in a strangled voice. “I never thought it would happen like this.”
She keeps her back to him, and Jayce more than ever would like to touch her, to take her in his arms, to hear her say that everything's going to be all right. Never did he think this moment would be so painful. He remains stoic, his arms hanging down his body and tears dampening his face.
“You don't love me anymore. It's over.”
Her tone is frighteningly calm and resolute, and her words sound not like a question, but like a fact. All Jayce manages to mumble in return is another desperate sorry.
Mel, still with her back to Jayce, heads for the bedroom. Before passing the doorframe, she turns around. Her eyes, which only a few minutes before had shown real happiness, are now cold and inscrutable. She's not crying; Jayce feels even more ridiculous that he's the only one who can't maintain composure.
“Before the weekend is over, I want you to get your things and leave the apartment.”
Jayce feels his heart miss a beat and his jaw drops.
“W-what?”
“The apartment is in my name and paid for mostly by me. I will not accept being treated this way in my own home.”
“Are you serious?”
He asks while fully knowing the answer. Something Mel has never been is indecisive.
“Very serious, Jayce.”
With that, she enters the bedroom and closes the door behind her, not giving Jayce a chance to continue the conversation.
The sight of the closed door only makes the situation more real for Jayce. Yes, he's the one who initiated the separation, yes this is what he wants, so why is it so difficult? He would have preferred Mel to cry, to throw herself into his arms and beg him to stay. Her reaction only confirms that he made the right decision, but it does make him feel like the biggest jerk.
He lets himself fall on the couch as he tries to calm his breathing and the tears still streaming down his cheeks, his heart breaking more for what they had than what they had become.
***
Jayce doesn't wait until Sunday to leave. He cannot stand feeling like an intruder in the place where he's lived for the past two years.
Fortunately, the first person he called agreed to take him in while he finds a new apartment. He thought about calling his mother, but he couldn't bear going back to live with his mom at the ripe age of 31. So, he decided to call Caitlyn. Even though he felt bad for imposing this on her, she didn't let him think for a second that it bothered her. She even offered to pick him up with her father's car to haul his stuff.
Mel left at the beginning of the day without informing Jayce of her whereabouts. He took the opportunity to pack up his things. Putting your whole life in boxes is a very strange feeling. He had always seen moving as a renewal, the beginning of a new chapter, but this one didn't quite start as imagined.
In the car, Jayce remains silent. He feels Caitlyn's gaze on him, but he feels like if he opens his mouth, it will only amplify the sense of humiliation he feels. His friend seems to understand this. She doesn't push him or ask for an immediate explanation.
Jayce looks out the window, contemplating the white buildings with colorful roofs, characteristic of the wealthier neighborhood where Caitlyn lives. The sun begins to set and the light reflecting off the car hits him in the face, causing him to slightly squint.
He notices his reflection in the mirror; his hair almost reaching his jawline, his beard a few days old. If it wasn't due for a slackening on his part, he'd almost like his new look.
Arriving at their destination, Caitlyn opens the trunk and they get out of the car.
“Wait here,” she says, heading for the entrance. “I'll be right back.”
Confused, Jayce watches her go, frowning, but he doesn't retort. He begins to grab a few boxes and sets them down on the ground.
A minute later, the building door opens again and Caitlyn emerges. She's not alone. Behind her, Jayce spots another woman. With short pink hair, a tank-top revealing numerous tattoos on muscular arms and a grin on her face, she approaches Jayce and holds out her hand.
“Hey man. I'm Vi. Cait told me you needed another pair of arms to carry all this?”
Jayce shakes her hand. “I think we would have been okay but… thank you.”
He can't suppress an amused smile as he glances at Caitlyn, who stands a little back and watches them, her arms behind her back. She shrugs, flashing the same amused smile.
Without further ado, Vi picks up two large boxes. They clearly weigh more than she expected, their load causing her to slump forward before she straightens up and heads for the door as if nothing had happened.
Jayce shakes his head slowly, chuckling. He picks up the largest of the remaining boxes, leaving the other to Caitlyn, and they follow Vi inside.
“Hey, be careful there, you don't want to fall down!” says Caitlyn to the pink-haired woman as she begins to climb the stairs to the other’s apartment, barely able to see over the pile of boxes.
“Don't worry, I've got it under control!” she replies, her voice muffled by the cardboard.
Jayce turns to Caitlyn. “Your girlfriend, if I got that right?”
She gives him an exasperated look, but the smile on her lips betrays her fondness.
“Mhm.”
“Does she know? It looks like she's still trying to impress you.”
Caitlyn nudges Jayce lightly with her shoulder.
“Shut up.”
He chuckles and begins climbing up the steps too, closely followed by his friend.
When Vi reaches the apartment porch, she sets down – or rather drops with a thud – the stack of boxes. She turns back to them with a triumphant smile.
“See? I told you!”
Jayce glances at Caitlyn, and they both burst out laughing.
Vi frowns.
“What?”
They start laughing again, and for the first time in the past 24 hours, Jayce doesn’t feel quite so disheartened.
***
With his trumpet case on his back, Jayce enters the rehearsal room accompanied by Caitlyn. He greets Viktor briefly with a nod and a smile before taking his seat. While taking out his sheet music and instrument, he continues the conversation he had with his friend on the way in.
Since Caitlyn lives close to the university, Jayce had the time to get back to the apartment after his workday, and they were able to walk to practice together. That, at least, was the advantage of their new arrangement.
Other than that, Jayce can't say he’s totally comfortable at Caitlyn's place. Not having a guest room, he sleeps on the retractable sofa, and is automatically awakened at 5 a.m. by his new roommate getting ready for her shift. She does her best not to wake him, but it's no use. He really feels like an intruder. And it's even worse when Vi comes to visit her girlfriend, which happens quite regularly. Being a third wheel really isn't for him, so he's developed a habit of taking a walk in the surrounding streets during such times. Already familiar with the area, he finds his way around easily and feels surprisingly at home.
It gives him a break from the strange atmosphere at the apartment. And let’s not even mention what he witnessed when he took a shorter walk and got back to the apartment earlier than usual...
They interrupt their conversation when Viktor claps his hands, drawing the room's attention back to him. He greets the musicians and, as he does every week, talks for a short moment about the past week, checking in with those present in the room. Then he announces the piece with which they will begin their practice, and everyone gets into position.
Jayce turns his gaze on Viktor, staring intently at his hand holding the baton, then at his face. In orchestras, it's always important to follow the conductor; any movement that is different from the usual, broader, smaller, is a signal to the musicians. Just like their expression. It can tell a lot to the musicians about the conductor’s intentions.
When all are silent, Viktor raises his hands, beats a bar of silence, then the piece begins.
***
At the break, Jayce puts down his trumpet beside his chair and steps out into the music wing's hall. He goes to the water fountain for a quick sip, trying to restore his lips, which are still prickling from vibrating in his instrument.
When he returns to the group of musicians, he notices Caitlyn chatting with Viktor. He greets him again with the same gesture and smile.
He smiles back. “Hi Jayce, had a good week?”
Jayce remembers Viktor's worried look from the previous week when he'd had trouble staying focused. Playing the trumpet reminded him of his last conversation with Mel, and thinking of her again so soon after their breakup was odd. This week, however, that weight seemed to have lifted, at least for the most part.
“Not too bad. My students have almost all failed an exam that wasn't supposed to be difficult, so apart from me second guessing my entire course, nothing special.”
The corners of Viktor's mouth turn up in a small smile and he scoffs.
“Well, you can't expect them to be as great geniuses as you and I.” he says, a smirk on his face.
“Fair enough,” he replies, also letting out a chuckle.
“Hey!” interjects Caitlyn, a hand on her hips and a fake look of offence on her face, reminding both men of her presence “Just because I'm not in science doesn't mean I'm not as much of a genius as you are, I’ll let you know!”
“Maybe, but you would definitely have been one of those who failed my exam.”
Caitlyn's look of mocked offense amplifies, her mouth widens, and she plants a hand on her chest.
“Harsh. May I remind you that I’m the one who helped you iron your shirts. And who showed you how to use the stove. You may be book smart, but you wouldn't survive three seconds left to yourself.”
It's Jayce's turn to act falsely offended.
“Thanks for flaunting me like that,” he says with a grimace, turning to Viktor.
If it weren’t for the fact that Jayce had been regularly studying Viktor’s expressions over the past few months during their practices, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the corners of his mouth dipping slightly before returning to the thin smile he had been displaying earlier.
"I didn't know you two were together" he says.
Jayce’s eyes widen and he bursts out laughing. He glances at Caitlyn, who looks just as horrified as he does. The two immediately start denying it, speaking over each other in a rush, as if they need to urgently assure him they are absolutely not a couple.
Viktor raises an eyebrow, giving them his usual amused look. "Sorry, I didn’t realize it was such an insult."
"He's like a brother to me," Caitlyn says. "I’m not interested in him at all. Besides, I have a girlfriend."
"Ah, I see."
"I'm temporarily staying at her place," Jayce adds. "I... recently separated."
"Sorry to hear that."
"No need."
He gives Viktor a smile, as if to reassure him it’s something that was bound to happen.
Viktor returns the smile, a bit larger than usual, before averting his gaze.
"Well, shall we get back to it?"
Chapter Text
When Viktor sits down in his doctor's office, a week after undergoing new X-rays and general exams, he feels sick to his stomach. His mouth is dry and he has difficulty swallowing.
When his doctor sits at his desk in front of him, it's as if the grim reaper has come to announce his fate.
“Hello Viktor. How are you today?”
Even though all he does is deliver bad news month after month, year after year, his tone is always warm. His eyes crinkle as his lips curl into a genuine smile.
“I'm alright.”
Viktor doesn't feel like dwelling on how his lower back started to ache after a particularly bad coughing fit this morning. Not to mention the apprehension that's eating him up inside.
The doctor's smile pinches, as if detecting the lie. He says nothing, however, and opens Viktor's file.
“So... the X-rays came back negative. Nothing's changed, in your lungs or anywhere else. At least the good thing about it is that your leg hasn't got any worse.”
Viktor has to suppress a sneer. He didn't come here for his leg. It's been decades since anything changed in his leg. He has come because he feels like his body is degrading, little by little.
But, instead of being obnoxious, he nods.
“Good.”
The doctor turns a page from his file. He reads a few lines before pausing. He leans forward a little, rests his elbows on his desk and removes his glasses. Viktor recognizes this behavior; the old man often does it when he has something important to tell him. In this case, however, he still flashes a warm smile that adds color to his face, dulled by grey hair.
“You know, you're not the only patient with those symptoms. And, without much coincidence, they're all from Zaun. I think, by being able to recognize a pattern between all of you, we may finally be able to find out what’s wrong. We already have a clue as to the cause - water and air pollution - but we don't yet know how it affects the body.”
“So you still don't know what’s wrong with me.”
Viktor hadn't expected anything, but he's disappointed all the same. He feels his shoulders slump.
The doctor shakes his head.
“At first, I thought we were dealing with pulmonary sarcoidosis, a certain inflammatory disease of unknown cause that can affect the lungs, but seeing your symptoms and how they spread, I was forced to rule that out.”
“Okay... and what do we do now?”
“I'm going to increase your dose of painkillers and muscle relaxants. That should reduce your symptoms.”
Viktor sighs. “More drugs again. Great.” he thinks. “As long as it can help me...”
“Hopefully,” the doctor continues, “the research will lead to something, and we'll finally be able to put our finger on your disease.”
The conductor forces a pinched smile. He appreciates the doctor's effort, but after so many years, it’s hard to keep hope alive.
After thanking the doctor and taking his new prescriptions, Viktor heads out into the streets of Piltover and walks towards his home. Today is gray and windy, as if on purpose. Once again, he has the feeling that the grim reaper is lurking nearby, hiding behind a tree on a street corner, waiting for the right moment to tell him that he doesn't have many years left.
When he arrives in front of his building, Viktor briefly notices a sign in the lawn, indicating that one of the building's apartments is for rent. A brief thought occurs to him as to which of his neighbors has moved out.
A gust of wind blows under his coat and into his neck, causing him to quicken his pace and enter the building.
***
Glancing at his watch, Viktor realizes that his shift is drawing to a close. He closes his computer and turns in his chair to face Sky.
“We can stop here. You did a good job today.” he says, smiling at her.
There was no ulterior motive behind this compliment, but when he sees his colleague's cheeks take on a rosy tinge and she stammers out a thank you, Viktor realizes his blunder. He turns and clears his throat before gathering up his things.
The thing is, it's the truth; Sky has worked very well today, and all the last few weeks for that matter. He'd never admit it to her, but she was right. Their collaboration is extremely useful to him. Sky proved to be very committed and extremely competent. The exoskeleton project has finally been completed, and the filter is progressing at a quick pace. They’re almost ready to build the first real prototype.
So, it's only natural for Viktor to thank his colleague for all her help. He had simply forgotten what that entailed.
Since she invited him to go for a drink last month, Viktor has started to pay more attention to their interactions. He noticed things he hadn't before; how she has trouble maintaining eye contact, how she fixes her glasses out of nervousness when talking to him... He came to the conclusion that she is... interested in him. How and why, he has no idea. All he knows is that he's grateful she hasn't asked him out again.
Viktor opens his bag, a brown leather shoulder bag that he drags everywhere he goes, to put in some spreadsheets. He always takes what he's working on home with him in case a stroke of genius strikes him when he's not at work.
He stands up, grabs his cane, and slings his bag over his shoulder.
“Good night Sky, see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow. Have a good practice.” she says without meeting his gaze.
She places her glasses back on her nose.
Viktor inhales, nods quickly with a pinched smile, then exits the room. He closes the door behind him and lets out a sharp breath.
***
When he arrives in front of their practice room, Viktor sees that someone is waiting for him at the door. This person has his back to him, but is instantly recognizable by their long, dark-blue hair.
“Caitlyn?”
When she turns around, Viktor's eyes widen. The young musician's right arm is held against her body in a cast. A sling holds it in position.
“Wh-”
“Hi Viktor,” she chuckles. “I wanted to talk to you for two minutes before practice.” She raises her cast arm. “I think you can guess why.”
“What happened? Are you okay?” he manages to stammer out after the initial shock when he finally reaches her side.
“I'm okay. It's... silly, really.” she chuckles again, clearly ashamed “I think we’ve told you already, but Jayce moved in with me temporarily. Since he's not supposed to stay very long, some of the boxes have been left unopened. Including one at the top of the stairs leading up to my apartment...”
Viktor grimaces. He can already picture the scene.
“Well… Tuesday, when I was leaving my flat, I received a text from my girlfriend and, wanting to answer it...” she continues “I forgot to look where I was walking.”
“Christ Caitlyn...”
Viktor shakes his head slowly. He can clearly see Caitlyn stumbling over a box and falling over it, landing on her arm and tumbling down the steps in a jumble of arms and legs.
She raises her remaining arm in defense. “I know, I know. I'm such an idiot.”
Viktor scoffs. He runs his hand that’s not holding his cane through his hair.
“Stupid isn't a word I'd normally use to describe you, but here...”
“Yep.” she throws him a guilty smile before taking on a more serious look. She tuts. “The most annoying thing is that I have to keep this damn cast on for six weeks.”
Viktor does the quick math in his head. It's October 24. In six weeks, it will already be the beginning of December. He finally understands why Caitlyn wanted to talk to him about this directly.
“The concert...”
“I'm taking it off a little over a week before.”
Viktor exhales a short breath.
“So you'll be able to play?”
“Normally, yes.”
Without being aware of it, the conductor had gripped the handle of his cane tightly until his knuckles had turned white. Losing his best asset in his trumpet section would certainly have been a problem. He loosens up when he realizes it.
“But...”
Uh-oh.
“I'm afraid not being able to practice for six weeks will really put me behind everyone else.”
Viktor scoffs. Of all the concerns he might have about the situation, this isn’t at the top of his list. He smiles at her.
“The concert could be tomorrow and I wouldn't even be that worried.”
“Except for the solo.”
Ah. Yes. He has to agree with her on that one. As talented as she is, the solo is difficult, and she hasn't fully perfected it yet, though she's not far off already.
“I'd like you to give it to Jayce.”
Viktor raises his eyebrows.
“Give it to Jayce? You really don't want to try to do it anyway?”
She shakes her head.
“I don't want to take any chances. Besides, I'm sure he'll be able to do it.”
“I-”
Viktor closes his mouth. He doesn't feel like saying no to Caitlyn when even the look in her eyes seems to be asking him to say yes. He sighs.
“Okay, I trust you.”
Her face breaks into a smile. She suddenly looks over Viktor's head and nods at someone. Viktor turns to see one of the percussionists walking toward them. People are starting to arrive.
“Great. You’ll tell him.” says Caitlyn. “He won't do it if I’m the one who asks him.”
“Alright.”
He waves to the percussionist and reaches into his bag to pull out the keys to the practice room. Seeing him do it, Caitlyn puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I'll leave you to it. Bye Viktor, sorry again.”
“Don't worry about it, rest well.”
She nods, gives him one last smile and heads for the door. Viktor observes her for a moment, the way she has to hold her arm in her sling, before turning and entering the room. He draws a smile on his face as he greets the first arrivals.
As he prepares his things for the practice, he feels more stressed than usual. He's dreading the discussion with Jayce without really knowing why, or without wanting to acknowledge why. He puts the blame of his apprehension on the news of Caitlyn's departure.
He's revising his sheet music when he notices a figure that has become familiar, or at least in his mind, walking past his lectern towards his chair. Viktor calls out to him.
“Jayce?”
The latter stops in his tracks and turns back to Viktor, a smile on his lips.
“Hey. How are you?”
With a small nod, Viktor indicates to the taller man to come closer.
“Good, thank you. You?”
“I'm alright,” Jayce says as he stops next to Viktor's stool. “A little bothered with the… situation.”
The conductor nods with a pinched smile.
“Caitlyn told me about her accident.”
Jayce chuckles and slowly shakes his head, as if recalling the event in his mind.
“You could call it that, yeah.”
“I was actually meaning to talk to you about that...” continues Viktor without lingering over the event he already knows about; after all, he has a rehearsal to conduct in a few minutes. He's got to make it quick.
“Do you think you could play the solo in Moonlight?” he continues. “Caitlyn doubts she'll be able to play well after such a long time without practice.”
Jayce's eyes widen and he takes a step back, as if the shock is as much physical as it is mental.
“Uh... but... she already knows it very well... I'm sure she would be able to do it. I’m not sure it's a good idea...”
He scratches the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable with the responsibility.
“That's what I told her too, but she insisted. I think she's right, though. She'd practically have to start from scratch a week before the concert, whereas you'd still have almost two months.”
Jayce sighs. Viktor notices his eyes wandering to the room around them, as if looking for an escape. He brings his eyes back to the conductor.
“Are you sure?”
“Not much choice,” Viktor replies, shaking his head.
Jayce sighs again, his breathing making his chest inflate. His muscular arm is still gripping the case of his trumpet, veins visible on his forearm, and-
Viktor. Focus.
“Okay,” Jayce finally says. “However, I think I could use some help.”
“What do you mean?”
“More practices... personal practices... I don't know,” he shrugs.
Viktor gives him a quizzical look.
“You'd like individual practices with me to practice your solo?”
Viktor weighs his every word, as if trying to understand them himself as he says them. It all seems so outlandish.
Jayce nods. His eyes seem hopeful. Clearly, he means well – he wants what’s best for their concert – but Viktor is tempted to refuse. After all, it's never happened before, personal practices with the conductor in a more amateur orchestra like theirs.
“You know I don't play the trumpet,” he begins. “I know a bit about it, like most instruments, but I don't know if I'm in the best position to help you…”
“You could at least tell me what you're looking for in this solo, what would work better with the piece, what I can improve on...”
As he speaks, he still has that glimmer of hope in his eyes, as if performing well really matters to him.
Ah. Fuck it.
***
Viktor returns to the university the following Monday, this time heading for the science wing, towards Jayce's office on the second floor.
All weekend, Viktor wrestled with his own thoughts. The more time he spends around Jayce, the harder it gets to deny the truth: he's attracted to him. Intensely.
Ever since that night at the bar three weeks ago, when he suddenly realized he wasn't immune to the trumpeter's looks, Jayce has lingered in Viktor’s thoughts. Every time their eyes meet, his heart skips a beat, and if he's unfortunate enough to let his thoughts wander too far, he finds himself blushing and flustered. Like a goddamn teenager.
It’s gone too far.
That's partly why he hesitated before accepting Jayce's offer, but he owes him the favor after all the help he's given him with the filter.
That's why he's agreed to join Jayce in his office on Monday evenings, once his classes are over, until they feel Jayce no longer needs the help.
Viktor walks the corridors leading up to the office, each step making the anticipation almost intolerable. He doesn't even know how he's going to be able to help him.
“I shouldn't have accepted,” he thinks.
He knocks on the door as soon as he gets in front of it, telling himself that if he waits a single second he never will. Jayce opens it after a few seconds and greets him with the same smile as he always does. He is wearing what Viktor assumes are his work clothes: neat black pants and a pale blue button-up with one button undone and the sleeves rolled up.
“Hi,” says Viktor, ignoring the faint pink creeping up his face.
“Hey. Come on in, I was just starting to warm up.”
Viktor complies and enters the room. Not much has changed since the first time he came, the same plants, the same photo of his mother on the desk. This time, however, Jayce has set up two chairs and a lectern in the middle of the room.
The tanned man sits in his chair and Viktor imitates him. As Jayce continues to make a few sounds to warm up his instrument, the conductor realizes how strange the situation is. He's just sitting there, watching him.
“So uh,” Jayce clears his throat. Is he feeling the awkwardness too? “Should I play it a first time and you tell me what you think?”
“Sure.” replies Viktor with a small smile, trying to lighten up the mood.
Jayce settles in his chair, moving to the very edge so his back doesn't touch the backrest. He takes a deep breath and begins the piece. Viktor listens attentively, even closing his eyes at one point to try and reduce all distractions to zero, concentrating only on what Jayce is playing. His sound is clear and in tune, but he's right. He hasn't perfected it and makes several mistakes. Then again, it's normal; since it was always Caitlyn who was playing it, he had no reason to have practiced it beforehand. For a first time, it's still very good.
Viktor nods approvingly as Jayce finishes.
“It wasn't my best” chuckles Jayce.
Viktor smiles.
“There's room for improvement, of course, but there are some very nice things already.”
Jayce smiles back, his shoulders relaxing a little at the compliment.
Viktor begins to make recommendations, explaining what intensity and rhythm each section should have. They then spend the next hour redoing certain sections, sometimes lingering on a few bars for quite a while. As they progress, Viktor briefly forgets the discomfort he was feeling earlier, being really focused on the task in hand. However, when there are longer moments where Viktor is just watching Jayce play, he feels that tension again, which he knows he's only imagining. He pushes it away every time, so as not to let it impact on his thoughts.
“I think we can call it a day,” says Viktor as he begins to sense tiredness in both him and Jayce.
“Yeah, okay.”
He sets his trumpet down on the floor and opens his case. He glances at Viktor and smiles, seeing him just sitting there waiting.
“Thank you, by the way. I know it's a bit of a strange situation, but I really appreciate it.” he says as he puts his instrument away.
“If it helps, it's my pleasure.” he answers, relieved to find that he wasn't the only one who found the whole thing a bit odd.
Jayce stands up as he finishes what he's doing, and Viktor does the same, retrieving his cane that he'd docked on the side of his chair. They head for the door, which Jayce opens for the other man. They walk silently side by side down the corridor, down the steps and to the exit. Only the sound of their footsteps, Viktor's cane tapping on the floor and a coughing fit that catches him by the throat as they descend the steps can be heard. Once outside, Jayce turns to Viktor.
“I'm going that way,” he says, pointing behind him.
Viktor, on the other hand, has to go in the opposite direction.
“Okay.”
“Thanks again. See you Thursday?”
“Yeah. Good night, Jayce.”
“Good night, Viktor.”
They exchange a smile and start walking in opposite directions, much to Viktor's disappointment, but also his greatest relief. His thoughts had started to wander again, thinking about what might have happened if they were to walk in the same direction, until they’d arrive in front of Jayce’s house, and he’d invite him in...
He sighs.
These practices are really going to be torture.
Chapter 8
Notes:
longest chapter yet, but i think it's worth it :)
also the last one i wrote before posting the fic, so the chapters will now come out one by one
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Alright everyone, that concludes our class for today. Don't forget – there’s an exam next class and it will count for 20% of your semester! Preparatory exercises are already on the portal. Have a good week.”
Jayce barely finishes his sentence before the room erupts into the usual chaos of bags unzipping and chairs scarping against the floor. He gathers his documents and closes his computer, offering a polite nod to the few students who bother to say goodbye – either those who genuinely enjoy the class or those who show up just to watch him. He forces a smile when one of the girls chimes in with an enthusiastic, “Have a great day, Mr. Talis!”
On his way to his office to eat his lunch, he runs into his colleague Herman, a chemistry teacher who surprises everyone by not having retired yet. Between a brief exchange about their shared students and some offhand comment about the cafeteria’s questionable chicken, Herman somehow ropes Jayce into joining the rest of the department’s teachers for lunch in the staff room.
When he enters the room, Jayce already regrets his choice.
Since graduating and being employed at the university three years ago, Jayce has spent the vast majority of his breaks in his office. He always says it's to work – which is true but not the main reason. Some of these professors were his when he was a student, and he can't shake the feeling that he doesn't belong.
Once again, when he returns from his office with his lunch box, Jayce finds that most of his colleagues are already in conversation, even Herman, who had suggested he join them. Nevertheless, he sits down at the table and starts eating, silently cursing the old man.
He has just finished the first half of his sandwich when someone comes to sit next to him; his colleague Amelia, also a physics teacher but for Ph.D. students.
“Jayce! What a lovely surprise!” she says, an earnest smile lighting up her face.
“I've decided to be sociable today,” he replies, flashing the same polite smile he usually does.
When Amelia laughs at his remark, which was intended to be nothing more than self-deprecating, Jayce relaxes a little. His smile becomes more honest.
“So,” she begins, pulling a glass dish containing a meal – definitely leftovers from the night before – from her bag, “what do you have planned for Halloween?”
The young teacher's eyes widen briefly; he'd completely forgotten about the holiday, let alone the fact that it was this week.
“Nothing. When is it again?”
“Thursday. With my kids, we’re planning to go trick-or-treating like we do every year, but my husband doesn't-”
Amelia's words gradually fade as Jayce got stuck on “Thursday.”
“Excuse me for a second.”
He pulls his phone out of his pocket without even realizing he's just interrupted his colleague.
He goes through his contacts until he finds “Viktor no last name ;)”. He starts a text conversation, because apart from a phone call, they hadn't yet contacted each other.
His fingers tap rapidly on the keyboard as he composes his message.
“Hey man, it's Jayce. I hope you're alright.
I was wondering, since Thursday is Halloween, is the practice still on?”
He stares at the screen for a few seconds before realizing that he probably won't get an immediate response. He puts his phone down on the table and turns his attention back to Amelia, who has been watching him with a quizzical look.
“Sorry. It's the kind of thing you have to do right away or you'll forget.” he says, a thin smile on his lips. “You were saying?”
As she resumes her story about her children and her husband, Jayce listens only distractedly, his thoughts elsewhere.
***
Jayce sits in the living room of Caitlyn's apartment, grading papers for an exam his sophomore class took the week before. A free-standing light illuminates his papers, while the rest of the room is plunged into darkness.
The living room has really become his own room. He sleeps there, he works there, he spends his free time there... Soon enough the couch will have taken his imprint.
Though he likes complaining, he doesn't do as much as he could to try to get out of the situation. Yes, he's looked for an apartment, but each one he finds has an element that bothers him: too expensive, too small, doesn't take pets (who's to say Jayce won't want a dog later on?), and you name it. He had found one and even gone so far as to visit it, but someone had already secured it and rented it before him.
A vibrating notification on his phone distracts him from his correction. He reaches for the object on the coffee table and turns it over to see that he's received a reply from Viktor.
“Hi Jayce. Yes, practice is still on, but it's optional. I won't take absences into account, if you had something planned.”
He answers right away.
“No plans. I’ll be there :)”
No. Too childish.
“No plans. I'll be there.”
Too cold.
“No, I don’t have plans, I'll be there!”
Satisfied, he puts his cellphone back on the table and picks up the red pen he'd left next to it. He tries to immerse himself back in his copies, but an idea suddenly pops into his head.
“Cait?” he says, raising his voice to be heard.
“Hm?”
The sound is distant, coming from the young woman's bedroom down the hallway.
“Can you come here for two seconds? I've got a question.”
No answer, but a few seconds later, Caitlyn’s silhouette appears at the entrance of the living room. The light emanating from the room illuminates her only dimly, but Jayce can make out her pale blue camisole and pants with little cats on them. She's getting ready for bed.
“I won't take up too much of your time, I was just wondering... Do you normally do anything special for Halloween?”
“Well, me and Vi are going to the movie theatre to see a scary movie...” his friend replies, stepping into the light. Jayce notices her cast, which he tends to forget every time.
“No, I meant with the orchestra.”
“Oh. N-”
She pauses, then a small grin forms on her lips.
“Yes! Everyone wears a little something special. A makeup, a little costume element. Not much, just to keep in the spirit.”
Jayce noticed Caitlyn's hesitation and smile; he has his doubts.
“Why were you going to say no then?”
“Because last year, I hadn't dressed up. I was the only one. I told myself I'd make an effort for the next year, but well... I guess it'll have to wait until the year after.”
“Are you fucking with me?” Jayce frowns.
“No, why would I do that?” her expression turns serious again. She crosses her arms over her chest. “Besides, I wouldn't even be there to see your face if what I told you was a lie. What's the point in that?”
“Right. Okay” he ends up saying.
Caitlyn nods and lets her arms fall back down her sides.
“Well, if that's all, I'm going to bed.”
“Yeah. Good night, Cait.”
“Night, Jayce.”
She smiles at him and leaves the room. Jayce is left to ponder what he's just heard. He needs to find himself a costume element; and he has an idea.
***
Jayce takes one last look at his reflection in the hallway mirror. He's pleased with what he's managed to do in such a short period of time; he's matched his brown leather jacket with a beige shirt and pants, enhancing the look with an explorer's hat. A perfect Indiana Jones. However, a doubt still lingers in his mind, causing a certain apprehension that’s devouring him from the inside. He decides to assuage his fear.
"Hi. I won't bother you long, I know it's last minute, but I wanted to make sure; we’re dressing up tonight, right?"
Jayce bites his lip nervously as he waits for a response from his conductor. This time, it's not long in coming.
“Of course!”
“Okay. See you there!”
The trumpeter quickly types his reply, grabs his trumpet case, and walks out the door.
As he has done every day since squatting with Caitlyn, he begins his walk to the university.
The streets of Piltover are busier than ever. Almost every house is adorned with the most terrifying decorations, lighting up the already dark sky. The sidewalks are busy with groups of children going door to door to collect candy.
Jayce can't suppress a smile when he sees the costumes of some of the kids; one little one dressed as a dinosaur is particularly adorable. It triggers in him a wave of intense baby fever. He’s already imagining a little Jayce going trick-or-treating.
Closer to the university, he even comes across a teenager also dressed as Indiana Jones. They nod at each other, acknowledging each other's costumes with a grin.
At the entrance, he meets a violinist from his orchestra. He's not in costume.
“Killjoy,” he thinks.
Oh, how Jayce swallowed that thought as he stepped into the practice room.
Nobody's in disguise.
Fucking Caitlyn.
Jayce curses under his breath, immediately removes his hat and reluctantly makes his way to his chair, shoulders slumped and face on fire.
Worst of all, he had seen it coming. He's not that stupid, he suspected. But Viktor had confirmed it...
Passing by his lectern, Jayce meet Viktor’s eyes. He gives him a sheepish smile, shaking his head slowly as his cheeks flush, an embarrassed chuckle escaping his lips.
Viktor's eyes lit up with amused mischief as he looks him up and down.
"Hello Jayce. Nice costume."
“Oh fuck off.”
Viktor's face breaks into a smile and a laugh escapes his lips. Jayce chuckles but continues on his way to hide his embarrassment.
Jayce walks over to his chair and sits down. Henry hasn't arrived yet, so he's alone in his section. He takes his sheet music out of his bag and puts his leather jacket on the back of his chair.
He can't believe Viktor was in on it. Jayce turns his gaze back to him to find that he's already looking at him, a thin smile on his lips. Even though he can't hear it, he notices the conductor's shoulders heave as he lets out a chuckle.
Jayce scoffs. And he's enjoying it too.
When Viktor turns his attention back to his scores, Jayce's gaze wanders to the various people in the room. Not surprisingly, there aren't many here tonight. The older ones with children are taking them trick-or-treating, and the younger ones are probably out partying in some shabby bar in hastily made costumes.
Jayce wonders why Viktor is even doing the rehearsal. Doesn't he have anything better to do? Is it that important to him?
At 7pm sharp, Viktor clears his throat – the sound enough to attract everyone's attention, since the conversations are quieter due to the small group – and Jayce realizes that he'll be the only trumpeter. Caitlyn is still injured, and currently at the movies with Vi, and Henry has children. He feels a little exposed as he realizes that everyone will hear him clearly, including Viktor. This will be good practice for when he has to do the solo in front of hundreds.
"Good evening everyone. Happy Halloween! Although, I guess you must not be that interested in this holiday if you're here with me tonight."
Jayce gives Viktor his full attention as he begins to speak, and watches as the corners of his mouth rise in a small smile.
"Since Caitlyn isn't here with us tonight and for the next few weeks, I'll do the announcements. I propose we skip the break and finish early, so we can enjoy the evening a little. Consequently, I announce an outing to the bar after practice. I know there aren't many of us, but if you've got nothing better to do tonight, I'll be there."
Viktor finishes his sentence with a look at Jayce. Taken aback, the latter feels his heart miss a beat at the intensity of the conductor's eyes, an almost golden amber, and he lowers his eyes to his sheet music.
Viktor clears his throat once more. “Anyways, we'll start with Il canto delle piume.”
When Jayce brings his gaze forward, Viktor is no longer looking at him, but rather at the flutes, which begin this mellow piece. The trumpeter settles more appropriately in his chair, his instrument resting on his thigh, and begins counting the bars to his entrance.
***
Jayce exits the practice room and leans against the wall next to the door. He put his leather jacket back on and hung his hat on his bag, his trumpet having taken up too much space to leave it inside. Eyes riveted on the door, he watches people leave and straightens from the wall when he sees Viktor exit into the hall.
“Hi Indiana,” he says as he passes him. “I thought you'd already left.”
Viktor doesn't stop walking, forcing Jayce to catch up and settle into his stride.
"First of all, piss off. Second of all... no. I've got nothing better to do, so..." replies Jayce, his tone light and a smile on his lips.
Viktor returns his smile as he pushes open the door leading outside.
“I think we're going to be the only ones.”
Jayce looks around, seeing the few musicians present walking back to their cars or off in the opposite direction.
“Too bad for them.” he says with a shrug.
They start walking towards the bar, which is only a block away. The streets have a completely different atmosphere than when Jayce arrived two hours ago. The children have all gone home, most lights are closed, and all that can be heard is music coming out of a few houses still partying, accompanied by the faint sound of crickets, their footsteps and Viktor's cane hitting the ground.
“So,” Viktor begins, glancing at Jayce, “you really believed Caitlyn.”
Jayce scoffs. He's really not going to get away with this...
"Honestly, I had doubts. That's why I texted you."
"And you believed me?"
"I had no idea I shouldn't."
Viktor smirks. Clearly, he's proud of his move, the asshole.
"It could have been way worse. You could have come dressed as a clown or something.”
Jayce chuckles.
"Yeah. Fair enough. But I still look like I have shitty style."
Viktor shrugs.
“I think it suits you.”
Taken aback once again, Jayce feels the red rise to his cheeks. He's used to compliments, but he wasn't expecting one from his conductor, and he's not sure how to take it.
“Thank you...?” he says, ending his word on a questioning note.
Viktor notices his surprise and his small smile grows a little wider.
“But... it's true that tone on tone is maybe not the best combo.”
“Yeah okay, I get it.”
Viktor chuckles and turns his attention back in front of him.
They reach the bar only seconds later. Decorations clearly bought at the $1 store liven up the building for the occasion. Jayce opens the door for Viktor and enters after him.
The bar has dimmed its lights, replacing them with purple and orange ones. Unlike the other times they'd gone to the bar after practice, it's much fuller. And not by musicians, but by people celebrating Halloween.
“I'm the one who feels like I stand out from the crowd now,” says Viktor, sitting down at a table and leaning his cane against his chair.
Jayce sits across from him with a chuckle. It's true that his simple gray button-up and black pants set him apart from the rest. He hands him his hat that he had hung on his bag. With a smirk on his lips, Viktor accepts the offer and puts the brown leather hat on his head.
“Better?”
Jayce smiles back at him. It looks surprisingly not all that bad on him. “Better.”
Even though the setting is different and this time they're alone, the conversations aren't at all more awkward. On the contrary, they have the opportunity to bound over their shared interests, which turn out to be even more numerous than they thought. Music, where they discover they enjoy many of the same artists, is a prominent topic, and of course science, where Viktor enthusiastically shares the progress of his project. They bring back the Distinguished Innovators competition and their studies, where Jayce learns that Viktor attended the same university as him, only a few years earlier. The same university where they are currently practicing. They had been connected for so long without even knowing it.
Over the course of a few hours and many beers, Jayce finds himself really enjoying his time with Viktor, and it seems to be mutual. Somehow, even though he doesn’t always feel particularly interesting or funny, Viktor listens with a focus that Jayce finds both unexpected and grounding. There’s something in the way his gaze – which always seem to catch Jayce off guard by their piercing intensity – holds steady, unwavering, that leaves the trumpetist oddly reassured. He’s glad to have found a friend in his conductor.
When midnight arrives and Jayce realizes that he's already going to get up with a headache, he announces that he's going to leave. He's already not used to drinking because he knows it doesn't take much to get him drunk, but today was a special occasion. Even though he doesn't really want to leave, he tells himself that all good things must come to an end, and that he'll regret it tomorrow if he doesn't go now.
Viktor agrees, also having to get up early in the morning, so they pay the bill and leave. The fresh air of late October, or rather early November, is good for Jayce, who was beginning to overheat in the small bar. He glances at Viktor as they start walking in the same direction. He's impressed by his stability and composure. He's had as much to drink as he has, yet he walks as if he's only had one beer, and it's not because he's supported by his cane.
“Still at Caitlyn's?” asks Viktor.
“Yes, unfortunately. I can't stand being a third wheel at least four times a week anymore.”
“Still haven't found anything?”
Jayce shakes his head. “Nope. It's not for lack of trying.” he replies. He feels like he's making excuses, but it's true. Nothing seems to be working for him, and there seem to be fewer and fewer apartments in Piltover.
Jayce glances at Viktor and notices that he seems to realize something by the way his eyes light up.
“I... don't know if this is something you might be interested in, but there's an apartment in the building where I live that's for rent.” He meets his gaze before scratching the back of his head and looking back forward. “It's not too far from the university either.”
Jayce smiles. He appreciates the thought. If this could work, it would be perfect.
“Yes. Definitely. If you could send me the info, that'd be great.”
Viktor turns his attention back to Jayce and returns his smile.
“Okay. Will do.”
“Thank you.”
They interrupt their walk when they reach the corner where their paths diverge.
“Anyway, thanks for tonight. It was really pleasant.” says Jayce, putting his hand on Viktor's shoulder.
The older man looks at the hand on his shoulder before meeting his eyes.
“It really was my pleasure.”
Jayce withdraws his hand and takes a few steps back, ready to go on his way.
“'We're still meeting on Monday?”
“Yes. Monday.” Viktor nods.
“Perfect. Good night, Viktor.”
“Good night, Jayce.”
They exchange one last smile before going their separate ways.
Jayce feels at ease. After weeks of mounting stress, everything finally seems to be falling into place, piece by piece. He's grateful to have met someone who makes his troubles seem distant.
Suddenly, he remembers something. Viktor still has his hat. He'd been wearing it for so many hours that they'd both forgotten it existed. He turns around, but it's too late. Viktor is already too far away, and Jayce isn't about to go chasing after him.
He watches him in the distance for a few seconds before continuing his way.
***
Just like last time, Viktor knocks on Jayce's office door when the latter has just taken his trumpet out of its case. He opens the door with a smile on his face, inviting him to take the same seat as the previous week.
“I've been looking at the information for the apartment that you sent me,” Jayce begins as Viktor sits in his chair and crosses his bad leg over the other. “It looks really good to me. I've contacted the owner and have a meeting with him next week.”
“Great, I'm glad.” he replies with a smile.
Viktor pulls out the trumpet’s solo sheet music and a pencil, ready to take notes.
“Well, shall we get started?”
Jayce nods and prepares himself to start playing. He still finds it unsettling to play alone in front of Viktor. Not just because he's the conductor, but also because he's been in SOOP. It’s a big deal, and he’s very aware of it. He's always afraid of not measuring up.
That's why Jayce spent even more time than usual practicing this weekend. So much so that Caitlyn got very fed up and threatened – nicely – to kick him out if he didn't stop playing the same bits over and over.
At least it paid off. Jayce has visibly improved since the previous week and feels less like he’s embarrassing himself in front of Viktor.
After two runs of the piece, Jayce felt the initial discomfort still present in the room dissipate. Viktor points out a few areas for improvement, and Jayce starts again, sometimes spending a long time on the same few bars.
Some thirty minutes later, Jayce is still stuck on a particular passage. Viktor tries to explain to him how he should play the bar, which note should be accentuated and which phrasing should be used, but somehow, it doesn't seem to get into his head. So, Viktor moves his chair closer to Jayce's to explain what he's trying to tell him.
“You see, from bars 102 to 105, you could accentuate the first and third beats, whereas from bars 106 to 114, it would be on the first only...”
If you were to ask Jayce what Viktor had just told him, he'd be unable to answer. Actually, when Viktor moved closer to him to point out his recommendations with the tip of his pencil, Jayce became unable to ignore their sudden and unexpected proximity, the way their thighs brush against each other and the way he leans over him to point out places on his score.
Jayce snaps out of it when Viktor starts writing things down on his paper. He turns his attention back to the sheet music as the conductor explains new recommendations.
“This section here really needs to be phrased. You can do the phrasing over two bars, making a crescendo on the first and a decrescendo on the second.”
Jayce's eyes move from the measures where Viktor draws crescendos and decrescendos to his hand, then to his face. Viktor pauses when he notices Jayce's gaze on him. Without a word, he turns to him, and their eyes meet.
In that precise moment, Jayce feels as though the world around him has stopped turning. Viktor’s gaze is filled with that characteristic intensity of his, but also something else – something Jayce can’t quite put his finger on. But when Viktor’s eyes flicker from his eyes to his lips and back to his eyes again, Jayce feels a wave of electricity surge through his entire body.
As Viktor leans in dangerously close, his hesitant hand brushing against his cheek, Jayce stops breathing. If he had been disoriented by their proximity before, it’s nothing compared to now. Their faces are so close that Jayce can take in every little detail of the conductor’s face – from the slight part of his lips to the moles above his mouth and below his eye.
And when Viktor closes the final inches between them and presses his lips to Jayce’s, he thinks his brain might just short-circuit. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but what he does know is that Viktor just kissed him, and that he fucking liked it. Without giving himself a moment to think, Jayce sets his trumpet down on the floor and kisses him back – hesitant at first, but with growing intensity as Viktor grabs the collar of his shirt and pulls him even closer.
Jayce places one hand on the conductor’s waist, the other tangling itself in his hair. Viktor parts his lips wider, inviting Jayce to deepen the kiss further. His hand slides from the taller one’s cheek to his chest, then down to his belt. Instinctively, Jayce mirrors the movement, gripping the waistband of Viktor’s pants.
As if the movement snaps Viktor out of a trance, he pulls away from Jayce. Taken aback, Jayce looks at him in confusion, his heart still pounding in his chest. In a split second, he notices Viktor’s expression shift entirely. He steps back fully, and Jayce instantly regrets the loss of his closeness, the absence of his warmth.
“I’m so sorry,” mumbles Viktor as he gets up as quickly as he can, clutching his cane as he grabs his bag.
Jayce is so stunned that no words manage to leave his mouth. He stares at Viktor, speechless, his breathing still ragged.
“I…” Viktor avoids his gaze. “I should go. I’m sorry.”
Without another word, he rushes out of the office, leaving Jayce in a state of utter shock.
It takes him a few seconds before he can even form a coherent thought. All at once, the moments over the past few weeks when he had felt a certain… closeness with Viktor come rushing back to him. But never – ever – would he have imagined this.
He stands up abruptly and begins pacing the room, trying to calm his racing heart. How did he not see this coming? And more importantly, why did he enjoy it so much?
The mere thought of seeing Viktor again after passionately making out with him horrifies him. He has plenty of reasons to feel apprehensive; he’s only recently single, he has no experience with men, and on top of that, Viktor is his damn conductor. Yet, strangely, the thought entices him just as much as it terrifies him.
I’m so fucked.
Notes:
FIRST KISS WOO-HOO
Chapter 9
Notes:
heyy i'm finally back!
hope you'll enjoy this one and i'll try to write the next one as soon as possible
xxx
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Fuck fuck fuck fuck
Viktor runs down the stairs as fast as he can and pushes open the doors leading outside. Even though the air is particularly cold today, all he feels is fire burning his face.
He walks down the street towards his apartment so fast you'd think someone was after him. What would be impossible to imagine, however, is that Viktor is actually running away from the enormity of what he's just done. The mistake caused by impulses that could lead to the loss of a new friendship.
What's got into you?
Viktor feels his throat tighten, and a sharp pain strikes his lower back at the same time. A violent coughing fit forces him to stop. Each convulsion makes his back ache, drawing a grimace to his face. When he pulls his hand away from his mouth, his heart skips a beat the sight of blood.
Shit.
***
As soon as he unlocks it, Viktor pushes the door to his apartment just as brusquely as he had the one at the university, though this time not driven by the same motivation. As quickly as his body allows, the conductor makes his way to the bathroom. He opens a cabinet and pulls out a bottle of painkillers – the new ones, the strong ones. He pops the lid, takes out two… or rather three, and swallows them dry.
Viktor collapses heavily onto the couch in his living room, letting out a loud sigh and not caring where his cane lands as he drops it next to him. He tries to steady his breathing, but every inhale sends a sharp sensation through his body. At least, he tells himself, the medication should dull one of the pains he’s feeling.
The worst part of it all is that he thought he was getting better. Sure, he still had his morning aches, his joints that feel locked when he wakes up, and, of course, the daily coughing fits. But the pills had been working well enough to keep things under control. At least well enough for him to seem more or less normal. Yet the doctor had made it clear: the meds manage the symptoms, not the disease. And he has pushed his body to the limit.
Trying to find a comfortable position, he rolls onto his back, gripping his hip to fend off the sharp pain threatening to strike. But his hand resting on his body only serves to remind him of Jayce’s, placed in the same spot just minutes earlier. Viktor groans and squeezes his eyes shut.
Jayce. When he kissed him, Viktor wasn’t thinking at all. He was swept up in their closeness, their shared gaze… Yet never had he imagined Jayce would kiss him back. Christ, who knows what might have happened if Viktor hadn’t forced himself to leave.
That look Jayce gave Viktor as he pulled away is engraved in his mind. He was confused, surely, but it wasn’t just that. Viktor refuses to dwell on the implications of Jayce actually having enjoyed the moment.
He can’t. He can’t let this go any further. He simply can’t do this to him.
After a moment of staring at the ceiling, unable to clear his thoughts, Viktor’s breathing slowly begins to steady, and the tightness in his throat eases. Without thinking any further, he takes advantage of this brief reprieve from his pain to do the one thing he knows can distract him: play music.
He slowly pushes himself up from the couch and makes his way to the chair set by the living room window; he doesn’t bother using his cane for such a short distance, relying mostly on his good leg. The outside lights faintly illuminate his sheet music, so Viktor switches on his music stand lamp.
He decides to play a piece he used to perform back when he was in SOOP. As the first violinist, he had been given a long solo – a magnificent composition by SOOP’s conductor himself. Viktor braces his instrument between his shoulder and his chin and draws the bow across the strings. He has played this piece so often that his fingers remember it perfectly, as if he had performed it just yesterday. Carried away by the music, he closes his eyes as he plays.
With his eyes closed, images come to him unbidden: Jayce’s office, Jayce’s trumpet, Jayce’s eyes, Jayce’s hands, Jayce’s hands on the waistband of his pants…
Viktor’s hands slip too low on the strings, producing a note so off-key that it jolts him out of his trance. He shakes his head and adjusts himself on the chair, as if to chase the thoughts from his mind, then starts again. But now, he’s distracted, and what had been instinctive just moments ago is no longer so. He falters once, then twice, then five times…
Exasperation and fatigue take over. Viktor lets out a frustrated growl and lets his instrument fall limply to the floor, not bothering to put it away.
He stares at his sheet music for a moment, but in truth, it feels as though he’s staring into nothingness. His visions blurs, drowned by his anger. Never had he felt so incompetent.
He rises abruptly and head back to the couch without further thought, not even remembering his leg or the pain wracking his body tonight. As he moves, his leg gives out nearly halfway there, and his lower back flares up with searing pain. He almost stumble before collapsing onto the couch, overcome by the agony.
Rolling onto his back. Viktor resumes staring at the ceiling. His face is contorted with pain and streaked with tears that have begun to flow and show no sign of stopping. The lines on the ceiling blur beneath his tears, then vanish completely as he finally succumbs to exhaustion.
***
It has now been ten hours since Viktor started working. His shift started two hours before Sky’s, but now, as she’s getting ready to leave, he’s still deeply absorbed in his work, either buried in his calculations or glued to his computer. His brain is working at full capacity, and he is surprisingly productive.
Viktor turns around when he senses a presence behind his shoulder. Sky. Her eyes shift from Viktor to his work, then back to Viktor.
“Do you need help with what you’re doing?”
“No, thank you. I’m alright,” he replies with a pinched smile, trying to sound convincing.
She frowns and adjusts her glasses on her nose.
“Are you sure? You should already be done for the day, shouldn’t you?”
Viktor clenches his jaw but forces himself to maintain his thin smile.
“Yes, I know. I’m putting in a bit of overtime today.”
“Again? Coleman’s making you do it?”
“No, I’m choosing to do it myself,” he says, turning to his computer. “I have a lot to do.”
I found something to distract myself with is what he should say, but Sky understands the message and nods with a small smile.
“Alright. Good luck with that.”
He nods back.
“Thank you. See you tomorrow, Sky.”
Another nod, and she leaves the room.
When Viktor hears the sound of the door closing, he sighs and leans back against his chair. His eyes remain fixed on his computer, but his mind is elsewhere.
He knows Sky is right – he feels the effects of fatigue on his body after two days of intense work – but he feels useful. Every minute spent doing something else is a wasted minute, and a minute spend brooding over something hopeless.
But now, it’s too late. His focus is gone, and it’s impossible for him to get back to working on the calculations for the new project he had just started. He waits five minutes to make sure he won’t run into Sky, avoiding the need to admit she was right, then he leaves the building.
On his way back home, each tap of his cane against the pavement, steady, obstinate, reminds him of the sound of a clock – a clock counting down the hours until he has to see Jayce again.
***
As Viktor pushes open the university door on Thursday evening, a lump weighs heavy in his throat. That weight on his shoulders has been there since morning, trailing him throughout his entire day at work. But now, as he unlocks the practice room and takes a seat on his stool, the stress feels heavier than ever.
As usual, people trickle into the room one by one, settling into their seats and setting up their instruments. After so much time with the orchestra, Viktor knows his musicians’ habits: who arrives first, who is often late, and who sneaks in at the last minute. Over the past two months, he’s noticed Jayce’s pattern – he’s always on time, often five to ten minutes early.
So, starting at 6:50, Viktor glances furtively at the door every two seconds. He tries to focus on reviewing his score – something he really needs to do since he hasn’t looked at them since the weekend – but his mind refuses to stay on task.
Viktor has decided he needs to talk to Jayce. He can’t pretend nothing happened; he wouldn’t be able to, even if he tried. He needs to clear things up, and it has to be today.
He glances at the sheet music for Moonlight and the notes he had taken last week about what to practice. But eventually, his gaze lifts toward the door again, as if magnetized, and his heart skips a beat.
He recognizes the broad shoulders, the tall frame, the tanned skin. Instantly, he looks away, pretending to be engrossed in his sheet music.
Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor watches Jayce head to his seat and start a conversation with Henry while pulling his trumpet from its case. He smiles, looking energetic, cheerful. Normal.
Suddenly, Jayce turns toward the front of the room, and their eyes meet. For the second time in just a few minutes, Viktor feels like his heart stops. He quickly looks back down as he feels his cheeks heat up and his heart pound against his chest.
Viktor takes a deep breath and pulls his phone from his pocket to check the time. 6:59.
“Close enough” he thinks. “Let’s get this over with.”
He sets his phone down on the music stand and claps his hands to grab the musicians’ attention. He offers them his most natural smile, doing his best to hide any sign of unease.
“Good evening. It’s great to see you all again. I hope you had a wonderful Halloween.”
A few musicians nod in response, and a violinist in the front row asks him the same question.
“Oh, that’s kind of you to ask, Ella. Yes, I…”
Without realizing it, his gaze had shifted to Jayce as he spoke. The younger man watches him as he aways does, his gaze steady, filled with interest and scrutiny. Viktor clears his throat and turns back to the young violinist with a smile.
“…had a lovely Halloween. Thank you.”
“I hope you’ve still found time to practice despite the celebrations,” he continues, addressing the orchestra. “The concert is approaching quickly, and while December 14 may still feel far away, remember – we only have six rehearsals left, today included. So keep it up everyone. We’re making good progress, and if we stay on track, the concert will be just great.”
Viktor can’t help but think he’s saying this more to himself than to the musicians. He can’t lose focus now; this isn’t the time to get distracted.
***
The sound of his cane tapping the floor barely registers amid the chatter of musicians in the music wing’s hallway. Viktor steadies his breathing, inhaling slowly through his nose and exhaling softly through his mouth.
He’s chosen the break to talk to Jayce. However, Jayce is still deep in conversation with Henry. Doesn’t matter, he hasn’t got any other choice; he has to try and insert himself in the conversation to get a moment alone with him.
As he approaches the pair, he greets them with a small nod and a faint smile.
“Oh, hey Viktor!” Henry exclaims enthusiastically, completely unaware of the tension between the two other men.
“Hey guys.”
“Hi Viktor.”
Jayce’s voice is different. Softer, more… uncertain. Something has definitely shifted between them, and the knowing glance they exchange speaks volumes.
“I hope I’m not interrupting,” Viktor says, ignoring the fact that he can hear his pulse pounding in his ears.
“Not at all,” Henry replies. “Actually, I was just about to head to the restroom, but I felt bad leaving Jayce alone. Now that he’s in good company, I’ll leave you to it.”
He smiles and heads off toward the nearby restroom.
Viktor turns to Jayce. Suddenly, everything he had planned to say – every carefully chosen word – gets stuck in his throat.
It’s Jayce who breaks the silence first.
“Did you have a good week?”
Viktor notices Jayce shifting from one foot to the other, fidgeting with the skin around his nails.
“Yes, thank you.”
The question is absurd. Of course not – Viktor hasn’t had a good week. In fact, “week” isn’t even the right word. It’s only been three days since they last saw each other, but they’ve been three grueling days.
The silence is so heavy that Viktor makes the quick decision not to beat around the bush.
“Listen, I wanted to say I’m sorry about Monday. It wasn’t professional of me to… uh, to interrupt our practice time like that.”
Jayce scoffs, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he runs a hand through his hair. Viktor bites the inside of his cheek, willing away the voice in his head that won’t stop reminding him how stunning Jayce looks.
“It wasn’t just your fault.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Viktor cuts in, too quickly, probably. “It won’t happen again. I’m sorry.”
Jayce visibly composes himself, his faint smile quickly replaced by a serious, now unreadable expression.
“Right.”
“We’ll keep things professional, yeah?”
Jayce nods.
“Yes, professional. It won’t happen again,” he repeats.
Viktor exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. This went better than expected, but something in the way Jayce responded leaves him with the nagging feeling that these words are nothing more than empty promises.
***
Tuesday at work, Viktor needs space. He needs to think, to brood. As if he hasn’t been doing exactly that for the past week…
The night before, he met with Jayce again for their private practice session. If his heart had raced the first time he walked into Jayce’s office, it was nothing compared to last night.
Returning to the place where they kissed, sitting back in the same chair where Jayce had held his waist, tangled his fingers in his hair… Yet, stepping back into the office, Viktor realized nothing had changed. At least physically. Everything was exactly as it had been the last time, and the first time. The only difference was the weight in the air, the tension now undeniable, perceptible to anyone who walked in.
Viktor pushes open the door of the company building where he works and sits down on a bench just outside. From his brown leather bag, he pulls out a Ziploc bag containing a hastily made sandwich. He doesn’t feel particularly hungry, but he takes a bite anyway, his gaze drifting off as he stares at the street ahead.
Despite a few trees lining the sidewalks, it’s not a picturesque area. Sure, it’s within walking distance of the university and the charming neighborhood surrounding it, but here, he’s at the edge of Piltover’s industrial district. If we’re honest, it’s still more polished and upscale than any part of Zaun, but it’s undeniably drab. Colorless, lifeless, devoid of charm. Say what you will about Zaun – drab will never be one of its descriptors.
The sound of the building door opening pulls Viktor out of his daydream. Without a word, he watches as his curly-haired colleague approaches, holding the notebook she always carries pressed against her chest.
“Hi.”
“Hello Sky.”
“Can I sit down?”
Viktor nods and shifts slightly to the right to make room for her on the bench. He had come outside to eat in peace, yet he finds himself about to engage in small talk with Sky. Still, he knows he’s been avoiding her this past week, and he couldn’t see himself refusing her company. Sky always seems to show up at the worst times, but Viktor can’t deny that her intentions are good.
She sits down next to him, placing her notebook on her lap, holding it lightly with her fingertips. She doesn’t seem to intend to use it, but it’s like a lifeline, something she clings to in order to ask a question after a moment of hesitation.
“I don’t want to bother you, but I’ve noticed you’ve been… different lately. Are you okay? Did I do something to make you uncomfortable?”
Her words tumble out quickly, and she avoids meeting Viktor’s gaze.
“No,” he says quickly, trying to reassure her. “You didn’t do anything. It’s… I’m fine.”
Sky finally turns toward Viktor. He can tell she’s not convinced by the way her brows knit slightly together. She adjusts her glasses.
“Are you sure? You look… tired.”
Viktor scoffs.
“Gee, thanks” he thinks promptly. But she’s right, of course. He’s noticed in the mirror how the dark circles under his eyes carve into his face even more than usual.
“Oh, you know… life. Relationships.”
“Do you have problems with your girlfriend?” she asks, once again averting his gaze, as if embarrassed by her own question.
“No, no girlfriend,” he answers simply.
After a brief pause, she ventures hesitantly, “Boyfriend?”
A small smile forms on Viktor’s lips.
“No, neither.”
She nods with a tight-lipped smile, and an uncomfortable silence settles between them. Viktor mutters under his breath. He hadn’t really planned on dwelling on the topic, but he can’t keep giving her two-word answers. He doesn’t even think to blame his tiredness on his illness.
“But I do have troubles with a man.”
Sky nods slowly. Viktor watches as the pieces of the puzzle seem to click into place in her mind. Her cheeks turn bright red.
“Oh… I’m sorry about that,” she finally says, gripping her notebook.
“It’s fine. It’s just…” Viktor pauses, letting out a short exhale before continuing. “Complicated.”
She meets his gaze and offers him a sympathetic smile.
“No need to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
Viktor nods, relieved to be able to change the subject.
“Yeah, okay.”
She mirrors his nod, then settle more comfortably on the bench, leaning her back against the backrest.
“I wanted to apologize if I’ve been too… intense. Out of line,” Sky continues after a moment of silence.
Viktor turns to her, setting the sandwich he still held onto the bench beside him.
“You weren’t out of line.”
Sky still doesn’t meet Viktor’s gaze. Her cheeks are still tinged with pink, and she lowers her head toward her notebook, fiddling absentmindedly with its corner.
“God, I asked you out for a drink, like I was expecting something…”
She chuckles softly, and Viktor raises his eyebrows. He hadn’t thought she’d be so honest about it.
“You couldn’t have known.”
Once again, she nods slowly. More pieces of the puzzle seem to come together. When she turns to him with a small smile, it’s as though she’s finally finished solving it.
“You know, sometimes things seem complicated because we’re too immersed in the situation. It’s like when we can’t figure out the solution to an equation or a problem in one of our projects, but someone else solves it in seconds. We always feel dumb for not figuring it out on our own.”
Without warning, images of Jayce helping Viktor with the filter come to his mind: his focused expression when he was looking at the computer, the triumphant look he wore when they finally succeeded. Viktor pushes them out of his head.
“What are you getting at?”
“I know we’re not very close, but if you ever want to talk about it, I’ll be here,” she says, adjusting her glasses on her nose.
Viktor’s expression softens. Suddenly, he feels like the biggest jerk in the world. Sky is truly a sweet girl, and he’s been so cold toward her. He gives her his most genuine smile.
“Thank you, Sky. Means a lot.”
She smiles back, then looks ahead of them again. Viktor follows her gaze and spots and small woman walking an even smaller dog.
“Oh, also,” Sky breaks the silence. “That wasn’t the only reason I came down to talk to you. I need your help with a calculation.”
The sentence feels so lighthearted to Viktor that he can’t help but laugh. It’s incredible how true it is – what people say about laughter being good for the soul. The weight on his shoulders seems to lift with the sound of his laugh. Even as his lungs tighten and he burst into an inevitable fit of coughing, he doesn’t feel the shadow of the reaper perched on his shoulder as he usually does.
“Alright,” he says as he catches his breath. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be there.”
***
Viktor walks down the path leading to his building after another long day at work. Today, the sky is gray, menacing, and the wind is monstrous, as if a storm is brewing, Viktor’s hair is a complete mess, and his clothes cling to his body from the force of the gusts.
Reaching the porch of his apartment, Viktor punches the code into the small device to his left and pushes open the door. He almost stumbles forward as the door swings wide; someone pulls it open from the inside at the same moment.
As he regains his balance, Viktor looks up, expecting to see one of his neighbors stepping out. His heart skips a beat when he realizes that’s not the case.
“Jayce?”
Jayce’s eyes widen like a deer caught in headlights. It’s as if he’s the one surprised to see Viktor, even though he’s the one standing in Viktor’s building.
“Viktor.”
“What are you doing here?”
The wind lets out a low howl, sending a gust so strong that Viktor has to hold the door to keep it from slamming shut. Yet neither of them moves, both frozen in place by the shock.
After several seconds too long, during which Jayce simply stares at Viktor, he finally decides to respond.
“I just signed the lease!” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his head. “Guess I must have forgotten to tell you…”
Viktor’s heart sinks to his feet. He had completely forgotten that he mentioned this to him… before everything fell apart.
“Yeah, I guess you must have…” he says quietly.
Jayce steps out of the building, forcing Viktor to take a few steps back to avoid standing too close to him. As Jayce moves closer, Viktor notes he’s wearing the same brown leather jacket he wore on Halloween, this time paired with a tight black t-shirt and loose jeans.
Viktor struggles to catch his breath.
“I hope it doesn’t bother you,” Jayce continues.
“No, no... I’m glad it worked out,” Viktor replies hesitantly.
Jayce gives him a small, forced smile. The silence between them feels oppressive. It’s just like their practice on Monday; both of them seem to be walking on eggshells.
Viktor clears his throat. “When are you moving in?”
“In a bit more than two weeks. The landlord really needed to rent it out quickly, so he agreed to let me move in fast. I’ll finally stop being a third wheel!” Jayce says with a laugh.
Viktor gives him a faint smile, but his mind is racing too much to form a proper response. In two weeks, Jayce will be living right next door.
“Cool,” he eventually manages to say, his voice tight.
Jayce nods, rocking back and forth on his feet.
“Well, I should get going.”
Viktor nods as Jayce steps forward and walks past him.
“See you at practice, Viktor.”
“Yeah, see you tomorrow.”
Viktor listens to Jayce’s footsteps fade away, repeating over and over in his mind: “Don’t turn around, don’t turn around…”
But then, Viktor turns around.
“Jayce?”
The taller man stops abruptly and turns, his eyebrows raised and his gaze soft.
“Yeah?”
Viktor opens his mouth, the closes it, as if unable to form a single word.
“Viktor?”
When he hears his name, the conductor finally snaps out of it.
“If you ever need help moving, just let me know.”
Jayce nods, smiling. A genuine smile this time, the kind that makes Viktor dizzy.
“Noted. Thanks, Viktor.”
With that, Jayce turns and walks down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets, his hair tousled by the wind. Viktor exhales deeply, then turns as well, finally pulling his eyes away from Jayce.
Notes:
my twitter @_b_lau_
I MIGHT start announcing the chapters on there so I'll give it to you guys just in case
Chapter 10
Notes:
I'M BACK sorry for the wait xx
Chapter Text
It always feels strange for Jayce to step back into his mother’s house since he moved out. Being a guest in what used to be his own home is something he’s still not used to. But aside from his room, which has been converted into a guest room, making it far more understated than it once was, nothing has changed. Family photos still decorate the walls – one showing Jayce winning the Distinguished Innovators competition, a proud, broad smile stamped on his face, and another of his mother and father a year before his passing. Both hold a place of honor above the fireplace. The house still smells the same, like the nostalgic blend of leather and vanilla.
But most importantly, his mother, Ximena, welcomes him with the same warmth and affection as when he was a child.
“Hi, my sweet boy,” she says, wrapping him in a hug as soon as he steps into the house.
“Hi, Mama.”
She hasn’t changed much either since the time he lived here, aside from the appearance of wrinkles and strands of gray hair.
“I was glad you called me; it’s been a while since I’ve seen you! How are you?” she asks, settling into her favorite sofa. She smiles, but Jayce catches the slight note of reproach in her voice. He sits on the couch across from her.
“I’m alright. How are you?”
“Oh, how kind of you to ask. I’m doing well, Jayce, thank you.” She pauses to take a sip of her tea, which she had placed on the living room’s table.
“So, what’s new? How’s Mel?”
Jayce feels his blood freeze in his veins. He realizes even more just how long it’s been since they last saw each other, and guilt hits him like a freight train.
“I wouldn’t know… we broke up.”
Ximena’s eyes widen in surprise, her mouth falling open.
“Really? My God, since when?”
Jayce shifts in his seat. “Uh… about a month and a half ago?”
“A month and a half!” If it’s even possible, Jayce’s mother’s eyes widen even more, now resembling two saucers. “And you didn’t think to pick up the phone and let me know?”
Jayce shrugs and scratches the back of his neck.
“Sorry, it’s been a rough month.”
She waves it off and leans toward him, taking his hands in hers.
“Are you okay? How did it happen?” she asks softly.
“I’m fine. It just wasn’t working between us anymore, so I ended it.”
His mother frowns and straightens up slightly, dropping his hands.
“That’s it? A three-year relationship doesn’t just end because it wasn’t working anymore.”
Jayce scoffs. “You sound like her. I’m telling you, we wanted different things, we were hurting each other more than not… I don’t know what else to say.”
“There’s someone else, isn’t there?”
Jayce nearly chokes on his saliva. “What? No! What is it with everyone assuming that…”
“I don’t know. You just seem so detached, like you’ve already moved on – to someone else.”
Even though Viktor isn’t the reason for his breakup with Mel, Jayce can’t help but think about him. It’s true that he hasn’t thought much about his ex lately; his thoughts of Mel have been replaced by those of Viktor’s lips against his own…
He feels his cheeks begin to burn.
“Well, you’re wrong.”
Ximena watches her son for a moment. When Jayce notices the small smile forming on her face, he knows she’s noticed the crimson tint of his cheeks and the unconvincing tone of his voice.
“If you say so.”
Yeah, she didn’t believe him.
“So, how’s work?”
“Good. The end-of-term rush is starting, but I’m managing.”
“And the orchestra? Last time I saw you, you’d just joined.”
Great. He’d just avoided talking about Viktor, but now there’s no way around it.
“Yeah, it’s going well. It’s challenging, the group is fun… Oh! I didn’t tell you this either!”
“Hm?” His mother raises an eyebrow, urging him to go on.
“Caitlyn broke her arm. She had a solo, but now I’m replacing her.”
Ximena’s jaw drops again. “What?! So much has been happening lately… is she okay?”
“Oh, yeah yeah. Just frustrated about it all.”
“I can imagine,” she says, shaking her head slowly as she takes a sip of her tea. “Anyway, I’m proud of you for landing that solo, regardless of the circumstances. Are you ready?”
“Almost. I’ve been having… private practices with the conductor to, uh…”
He feels his cheeks getting even hotter. It feels like his face is on fire now. He clears his throat.
“To make sure I can perform it as well as Caitlyn. Better, ideally – that’s the goal.”
“And is he good?”
Jayce freezes. “Wh-what?”
“Your conductor. What’s his name again?”
“Viktor,” he answers in a small voice, as if saying his name would give him away.
“Is he good?” she repeats. “Is he of any help with your solo?”
“Oh! Yes, yes.”
She nods with a smile. “That’s good, then.”
Jayce clears his throat. He hadn’t even realized his right leg had started absentmindedly shaking.
“Anyway. I had a favor to ask.”
“Ah! I knew it – you couldn’t have come to see me just because.”
She says it in the same lighthearted tone as when she teased him earlier, but Jayce still feels that same pang in his chest.
“That’s not true.”
“I know, I’m just teasing. What can I do for you, sweetheart?”
“I moved out of the apartment after Mel and I broke up. I’m staying at Cait’s for now, but I need somewhere to store the furniture I’m buying before I move. I was wondering if I could leave it in your garage.”
“Oh, of course, Jayce. You don’t even have to ask about something like that. You could’ve even come to live here in the meantime, you know, instead of bothering Caitlyn.”
“Yeah, I know. I didn’t want to bother you either. But thank you. For the furniture,” he replies, trying to ignore once again the reminder of how sweet his mom is.
“It’s my pleasure.”
Jayce lets out a deep breath. One thing checked off his list. The boxes had started piling up in Caitlyn’s small apartment, alongside Vi’s things, which seem to be growing by the day. He isn’t about to add to the chaos. There’s still plenty left to organize for his move, but at least now he’ll have a place to store his things.
Two weeks to the day.
***
“Thanks again. We’re really making progress, and I appreciate your help.”
Once again, Jayce and Viktor find themselves outside the university after their weekly practice. A session that, while still a little awkward, was more productive than the one right after their kiss.
“You’re making progress. And it’s my pleasure,” Viktor says with a smile. Not as warm a smile as the ones he used to give him, but polite and detached. “See you Thursday.”
“Yeah, see you Thursday,” Jayce replies before they part ways, heading in opposite directions.
“Before long, we’ll be heading home together,” Jayce thinks fleetingly but doesn’t share the thought with Viktor. The atmosphere between them since they bumped into each other outside Viktor’s place has become even stranger, if that’s even possible. It’s as though he is putting even more distance between them, even though they’ll soon be closer than ever – at least physically. It’s enough to leave Jayce completely baffled.
If he’s honest, Jayce doesn’t understand anything that’s happening, or that has happened. Actually, he has one single question: why? Why did Viktor do it, only to cast him aside like yesterday’s news? If only he knew what it would trigger in him…
When he gets back home, Jayce collapses wearily onto the couch. He drops his bag and trumpet onto the floor and empties his pockets onto the table: the spare apartment keys, his wallets and loose change. Stretching out on his side, he rests his head on a cushion.
He'd planned to work, to start grading an exam his second-years had just taken, but since his workspace is also his bed, it’s far too easy to give in to exhaustion. Far, far too easy…
Jayce only realizes he’s fallen asleep when he wakes up sometime later, sore from having slept directly on the couch instead of the sofa bed he unfolds every night. He sits up slowly, stretching his stiff, aching muscles.
He notices that all the lights in the apartment are off, except for the one coming from Caitlyn’s room. He also understands what woke him up when he hears a voice coming from the same direction – Caitlyn’s voice. She’s on the phone with someone. Without meaning to, Jayce leans in, catching snippets of the conversation. His friend’s voice carries easily through the silence of the late evening.
“How was I supposed to know I had to tell you about it? I mean, I knew it was… weird between you two, but I…”
Jayce’s breath catches in his throat. She’s talking about him. To Viktor. He’s sure of it. About what and why, he has no idea, but he’s determined to find out as he quietly gets up and moves discreetly to the end of the hallway. Caitlyn’s door is almost closed; only a small crack is open, letting the light and the sound through. He leans against the wall next to the door and holds his breath.
“No. He didn’t tell me directly, but I guessed it. It was all over his face.”
Jayce feels heat rising to his cheeks. He remembers the conversation he had with Caitlyn after coming back from that practice session; when she reminded him how easy he was to read. However, he doesn’t like the direction their conversation is taking.
“Christ Viktor, he came back home looking more confused than I’ve ever seen him. You’ve shaken the man up. And he’s like that every time he comes back from rehearsals.”
The redness on Jayce’s cheeks isn’t just embarrassment anymore. This is too much for him. He can’t stand Caitlyn talking about him in such a way to Viktor. What will he look like now? Each word feels like a knife cutting deeper into his pride. He clenches his fits, unsure if he’s more embarrassed or furious. Before he can think it through, he pushes off the wall and knocks on the door.
“I have to go,” Jayce hears Caitlyn say. “G’night.”
A few seconds pass, then the door opens. Caitlyn stands in front of Jayce, her hand still on the doorknob, her expression betraying her panic before she plasters on a casual smile.
“Sorry, did I wake you?”
“Who were you talking to?” Jayce replies, ignoring the question. The coldness in his tone surprises even him.
“Vi,” she answers hesitantly.
Jayce scoffs. Caught red-handed, and she still has the nerve to lie?
“Don’t bullshit me. I know you were talking to Viktor. Telling him how much he affects me, how he’s shaken me up. Do you even realize what you’re doing?”
The false façade Caitlyn had put on completely crumbles under the severity of Jayce’s expression. She lets go of the doorknob.
“I – I’m sorry, Jayce. He called me about you moving out. He was… troubled, given…”
Jayce is so consumed by his irritation toward his friend that he doesn’t even register what she’s saying.
“And you thought it was a good idea to expose me like that?”
Caitlyn takes a few steps back, as if trying to avoid Jayce or distance herself from his anger.
“I didn’t think it was such a big deal.”
Jayce clenches his jaw. Not a big deal? Is she trying to make things worse when they’re already hanging by a thread?
Beneath the anger hides something hard to face – hurt. She’s betrayed his trust, and that stings worse than he wants to admit.
“You crossed a line,” he answers, his jaw clenched, “I can’t wait to get out of here.”
Without waiting for a response, he heads back to the living room, leaving Caitlyn stunned. He almost expects her to follow him, to try and explain herself further, but instead, he hears the door close, and a few minutes later, he sees the light turn off.
Jayce stares ahead for several long seconds as he sits on the couch. His cheeks are still burning, and even when he presses the backs of his cool hands against them, they refuse to return to their normal temperature.
He can’t stop thinking about what Viktor is doing right now. What he’s thinking. Does he now see him as someone obsessed with him? Or worse, as someone weak, thrown off by a simple kiss? He agreed they’d keep things professional. He can’t let Viktor think he’s hurt by all this.
Jayce grabs his phone from the table, immediately opening his text messages with Viktor, but doesn’t type anything. He stares at the screen as his mind races, replaying every word Caitlyn said. It suddenly hits him that Viktor called her to talk about him. He’s troubled. Jayce being his neighbour bothers him.
Fuck. I knew it.
Instead of writing a text to justify himself, he starts typing: If me moving in your building bothers you, I’ll figure something else out. He stares at the words until they blur together, losing all meaning, before erasing them entirely. If he says anything, it’ll only make him seem more affected by Viktor.
So, he puts his phone back down and lies on his side, not bothering to unfold his bed. He closes his eyes, trying to will himself to sleep – a sleep he knows won’t come anytime soon.
***
On Tuesday mornings, Jayce doesn’t set an alarm. He only has one class, and it’s at 1 pm. So, he likes to take his time – or at least, as much as he can. Caitlyn still wakes up at 5 am for her shift. She’s a patrol officer and works the first morning shift. Normally, she does her best not to wake Jayce, making as little noise as possible as she goes about her routine in the rooms surrounding the living room. But not this morning.
This morning, she opens the kitchen cabinets as if it’s midday, not caring at all about the noise she makes while rummaging through them just a few meters away from Jayce.
Jayce wakes up with a start when a cabinet door slams shut violently. He sits up and rubs his eyes, adjusting to the light as quickly as he can.
“Cait…”
She strides through the kitchen in long steps, moving from the fridge to the counter to the cabinets. She pauses mid-motion at the sound of her name and glances at Jayce. Her already cold blue eyes seem even icier than usual.
“Oh, sorry, did I wake you?”
She loudly sets her lunchbox down on the counter. Frigid.
Jayce lets out a short sigh as he rubs the back of his neck. He knows exactly why she’s acting this way, and now that he’s had a moment to calm down, Jayce feels like a jerk. Like always.
“Listen…” he begins.
“No, you listen,” she cuts him off. “You know damn well you’re one of my best friends. Christ, probably my best friend. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you.”
Jayce stares at her, speechless. If not for Caitlyn’s tone being so sharp, he might’ve smiled; no one had ever called him their best friend before.
“I get that I went too far, and I’m sorry,” she continues. “But I’ve taken you in without asking for anything in return – don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to do it – but I would’ve appreciated an ounce of gratitude.”
Jayce takes a second to find the right words before answering.
“I am grateful. I really do appreciate what you’ve done for me, Cait. I was just… tired. On edge. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.”
Caitlyn sighs, and a hint of a smile appears on her face.
“I know,” she says, resuming her task, packing her lunchbox with what she pulled out of the fridge. “Viktor is my friend too, you know. He seemed on edge as well. I just wanted to answer his questions – not meddle in your business.”
She looks at him again, the small smile still lingering. The earlier chill has melted considerably, and Jayce feels the weight on his shoulders begin to lift.
“It’s already complicated enough,” she continues.
Jayce scoffs. “Tell me about it.”
“You know,” Caitlyn says as she firmly closes her lunchbox, “I think he cares more than he’d like to admit.”
“Really?”
Jayce’s expression softens immediately, something Caitlyn notices right away and acknowledges with a genuine smile.
“I’m sure of it. Why else would he have called me over something like that if he didn’t care?”
Jayce chuckles, shaking his head slowly. What if she is right? He tries hard not to believe it, but there’s always that small voice inside him that wants to. And no matter how much he tries to silence it, that voice inevitably winds.
Caitlyn stuffs her lunchbox into her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and heads toward the front door. She pauses as she passes by Jayce.
“It was only fair to tell you that after what I said to Viktor yesterday. Anyway, I’ve got to go. See you tonight?”
“Uh… yeah,” he replies once he finally snaps back to reality. “See you tonight.”
She nods in response and disappears down the hallway, leaving Jayce with an odd feeling in his chest. He feels stupid and irrational for being unable to explain it or make sense of it, but he allows it to linger, a sheepish smile spreading across his face.
***
That feeling stays with him for the rest of the week. That same afternoon while he teaches his class, later in the evening as he grades papers, and all the way through to Thursday, as he heads to practice. He arrives five minutes early and makes his way to the trumpeter section, greeting Viktor with a smile and a nod, as he always does.
During the break, after a productive start to practice and some genuinely impressive performances, Jayce heads to the restroom.
As he washes his hands at the sink, he glances at his reflection in the mirror. He hasn’t cut his hair in several months, and it now falls just past his jawline. At first, he blamed his neglect and avoidance of the barber on his breakup, but now he fully embraces it. The longer hair and the beard he now lets grow for a few days before trimming give him an older, more mature look. He feels like he finally looks his age. He briefly wonders if Mel would’ve liked the new look.
That thought is quickly pushed aside when Jayce leaves the bathroom, walks back into the hall, and spots Viktor. He’s talking with two violinists, the conversation seemingly serious and animated – likely about their playing. Not wanting to interrupt, Jayce joins Rob and Henry, only half-listening to their conversation. He keeps glancing at Viktor, Caitlyn’s words still echoing in his mind. And when Viktor glances his way and their eyes meet, Jayce momentarily forgets the awkwardness he felt a few days ago. Viktor looks away, but not before they exchanged a small smile.
Even though he didn’t get the chance to talk to Viktor during that practice, that shared smile remained in Jayce’s mind, keeping that peculiar feeling in his chest alive throughout the weekend. It felt like a moment of mutual acknowledgment, slightly easing the persistent awkwardness.
So, on Monday, as he waits for Viktor to arrive, Jayce is still nervous, but it’s a different kind of anticipation. Still, it’s no less intense, and to avoid looking stressed or awkward, the trumpeter downs a can of beer quickly before the conductor’s arrival.
He sets up the chairs and his music stand in their usual spots, then steps back to survey the arrangement for a few seconds.
Without giving it much thought, he moves Viktor’s chair a little closer to his own.
Three knocks sound on the door moments later. Jayce hurries to answer it.
“Hey!” he exclaims, his smile wide as he throws the door open, a bit too fast.
Viktor stands on the other side, looking visibly taken aback.
“Hey,” he replies, his initial surprise replaced by an amused expression. “Am I interrupting?”
“N-no. Not at all. Come in.”
Jayce steps aside to let the conductor enter. Viktor takes his usual seat, making no comment about its unusual closeness. He probably hasn’t noticed, Jayce tells himself.
Jayce, who had been frozen in place by the door, watching Viktor as he sat down, removed his coat, and placed it on the back of his chair along with his cane and shoulder bag, finally snaps out of it. He sits down, fumbling with his trumpet case. Viktor’s gaze lingers on him, steady and quiet, and Jayce feels the heat rise to his face all over again.
“Sorry. I didn’t have time to put it together before you got here today,” he says, hurriedly attaching the mouthpiece to his instrument and pulling out his sheet music.
“It’s fine. Take your time.”
Once everything is ready, Jayce adjusts himself more comfortably in his chair and brings his instrument to his lips. He completely rushed through the small talk they usually have before starting their practice – asking how things are, how the week has been. It’s pointless and awkward small talk, but it’s the most they’ve been talking lately. Jayce’s mind is racing a mile a minute, but somehow, it didn’t even cross his mind.
He starts the solo, and it’s a disaster. He misses the right notes, skips over a few… He had been playing so smoothly lately, close to perfection. He has no choice but to stop. A nervous chuckle escapes his lips as he tries to come up with an excuse.
I really shouldn’t have had that drink.
Viktor tilts his head, an amused smile playing on his lips. He’s about to say something, but as he opens his mouth, a coughing fit overtakes him, forcing him to stop. Jayce’s somewhat embarrassed expression quickly shifts to one of concern as he watches the other man’s chest heave with each harsh cough.
“Are you okay?”
“Yes,” Viktor clears his throat, his voice hoarse. “I’m fine.”
Jayce’s worry eases slightly when Viktor’s face returns to its mildly amused expression.
“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice raspy yet teasing. “I have to say… I don’t think you’ve ever played this badly – not even when you first started.”
Jayce bursts out laughing, not expecting such a blunt response.
“Yeah, just tired, I guess. All the notes are blurring together on the sheet.”
Viktor chuckles. With a few scoots of his chair, he moves closer to Jayce to get a look at his papers.
“Alright, which parts are giving you trouble today?” he asks in a lighter tone.
Jayce’s gaze lingers on Viktor’s side profile before flicking back to his sheet music.
He sighs. “Uh… pretty much all the sixteenth-note runs, I’d say. It’s like I’ve lost the muscle memory, like it’s my first time playing them.”
“Okay,” Viktor says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Two things. First, go to bed early tonight. Second, start again from bar thirty, but slower.”
Jayce grins as he readies his trumpet again. Viktor making a joke? It had been a while. He tries to ignore how his heart skipped a few beats at that. Shifting slightly in his chair, he spreads his legs a bit to make room to play comfortably. Since Viktor had moved closer, the simple motion causes Jayce’s knee to brush against the conductor’s.
Maybe it’s the slight buzz from the beer, or maybe he’s just careless, but he doesn’t move his leg. And neither does Viktor.
Jayce begins to play, and though his heart is pounding so loudly it nearly drowns out the notes, slowing down the tempo works. He gets through it.
“Good!” Viktor exclaims as Jayce finishes. “We can start again from the beginning.”
Viktor adjusts his chair to give Jayce more room, but without completely pulling away. He leaves his foot touching Jayce’s with the tip of his shoe. The trumpeter looks at his conductor for a few seconds, trying to figure out if it was intentional. He thinks he sees a faint blush on Viktor’s cheeks, but maybe he’s imagining it. After all, the room is dimly lit.
“Okay.” Jayce looks away again. He quickly pushes away the vivid memory of their kiss, the familiar setting bringing it back far too clearly.
He takes a deep breath before getting ready to play again. He waits a moment, letting the notes settle in his mind and giving his eyes a chance to refocus.
And just like that, with Viktor’s foot still pressed against his, he starts playing again – and this time, he nails it.
Chapter Text
Through the window of his living room, Viktor watches the park across from him and the little lift it holds. It snowed for the first time this week, and a thin white layer covers the grass. Normally, the park would be filled with young families out for a walk or couples enjoying a picnic under the trees. But now, even though the bare trees give him an even clearer view of the park, it feels just as sad and cold as the weather.
Viktor has put on his favorite black sweatshirt, the one he wears almost every day in winter, and sips a coffee as dark as his shirt.
He’s in the middle of taking a sip when he notices a pickup truck parking in front of the building. Quickly setting his mug down on the nearest table, he takes one last glance out the window before heading to the door. He spots Caitlyn stepping out of the passenger side and her girlfriend opening the truck’s tailgate. He quickly grabs the coat hanging on a hook by the door and heads out to meet them.
Caitlyn, making her way to the trunk, greets him with a smile as he pushes open the door. “Hey! Coming to give us a hand?”
Viktor returns her smile and glances over at the other woman, who is busy unloading boxes onto the ground. “Hi! Yeah, I am.”
“Good. You, uh…” Caitlyn watches him for a moment, and Viktor understands her hesitation. A disabled guy with a cane – what could he possibly do to help with moving? “I’ll help Vi carry the boxes upstairs. Can you go unlock the door?” She holds out a set of keys she had in her pocket.
At the mention of her name, Vi straightens up and flashes Viktor a smile. He remembers seeing her at the previous concert; Caitlyn had introduced them. Even though he hadn’t had the chance to really talk to her, he’d gotten a good sense of her: a young woman with a big heart who is absolutely down bad for Caitlyn.
“Hey, man. Nice to see you again.”
“Likewise,” he replies to Vi while taking the keys from Caitlyn’s hand.
“Is uh…”
“Jayce is on his way; he’ll be here any minute. He rented a truck for the bigger furniture,” the young woman with blue hair interrupts before Viktor even has the chance to finish his question.
“Right, okay,” Viktor replies with a small, embarrassed smile. Did she read his mind, or is he really that obvious? “I… I’ll go unlock the door then. Which flat?”
“3B,” Caitlyn answers while helping Vi finish unloading the pickup.
Viktor nods, even though Caitlyn is no longer paying attention to him, and heads back inside. His heart pounds in his chest. 3B. His own apartment is 3C. They’re not just going to live in the same building – they’re literally going to be neighbors.
He takes the same path as when he goes home but stops one door earlier. He still glances up to make sure the correct number is written and that he’s at the right place. His free hand moves to unlock the door, but it trembles slightly, making the task frustratingly tricky.
Viktor lets out an annoyed sigh and clenches his hand tightly around the key to stop it from shaking.
He relaxes his grip and finally manages to gather himself. The key fits into the lock with a far-too-familiar click.
When Viktor pushes the door open, he is almost surprised to see the apartment empty. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but somehow it wasn’t to walk into a flat identical to his own, just stripped of all its contents.
He sets the keys down on the kitchen counter and takes a tour of the place. His left hand brushes against the wall as he walks through the hallway, feeling its grainy texture and coldness with his fingertips. It keeps him grounded, reminding him that he is indeed standing in what will soon be Jayce’s home, even though he had sworn to stay away.
Voices from the other side of the door, which Viktor had left slightly ajar, pull him out of his thought, and he returns to the main room. The two women enter, each carrying a cardboard box.
Vi drops her box heavily on the floor by the door, announcing she’s off to grab another before leaving as quickly as she arrived. Caitlyn, meanwhile, sets her box down on the counter next to the keys.
Under her open coat, she smooths out the edge of her shirt – a delicate cream blouse – that had ridden up from the box pressing against her torso.
“It’s dishware. I know Jayce usually keeps it in the cabinets above the stove, if you’d like to start putting it away while we wait for him,” she says, sliding the box toward Viktor, who had approached silently.
He nods and responds with a simple, “Okay,” gripping the corners of the box with his slim fingers.
“I’ll be right back!” Caitlyn chimes before leaving, once again leaving Viktor alone with the heavy silence of the empty apartment.
After struggling for several long seconds to tear the tape sealing the box without any tools, Viktor finally manages to access its contents. He leans his cane against the counter, chooses a cabinet on the right and begins storing the plates – a pale blue set still in very good condition, except for one that’s slightly chipped.
When he hears footsteps behind the door again, he doesn’t turn around and addresses who he assumes is Caitlyn.
“Do you think the right shelf is okay?”
“Yeah, that’s perfectly fine.”
Viktor nearly drops the plate in his hands. It’s not Caitlyn’s voice. It’s deeper, warmer. It’s Jayce’s voice.
Viktor turns around, hesitating slightly, feeling his pulse in his temples. Jayce is standing in the doorway, holding a box in the same way his friends had just minutes ago. He gives a smile – the same damn smile that haunts Viktor’s thoughts. The kind of smile that inevitably draws one out of him in return.
“Hey,” Jayce breaks the silence, setting his box down next to Vi’s.
“Hello, Jayce,” Viktor replies, finally pulling his gaze away from the other man to put away the plate he’s still holding.
When Viktor closes the cabinet and turns around, Jayce has moved closer, leaning against the counter. Only a few seconds pass, but Viktor feels as though time as slowed. He desperately searches for something to say, how to act, how to stand. Shouldn’t Jayce be helping the girls? Viktor meets his gaze, which also seems to carry the same uncertainty as he quickly looks away.
“Thanks for helping me,” Jayce says, clearing his throat. “You really didn’t have to.”
“It’s my pleasure. I– I’m right next door anyway.”
As Viktor speaks, Jayce’s gaze locks onto his again. It interrupts him for a moment, and every coherent thought evaporates.
“Thank you,” Jayce repeats before pushing off the counter. “I’ll go help Vi with the couch,” he finishes, walking backward toward the door.
As soon as Jayce disappears behind the door, Viktor exhales deeply. “Since when does a man make me nervous?” he wonders, running a hand through his hair.
But he knows the answer. Since he realized that Jayce cares too – and that moving on won’t be as easy as he thought.
***
“To you all. Thanks again for your help. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Jayce raises his beer can toward his three friends, a radiant smile on his face, before taking a sip.
“Well, there you go, he’s only on his second can, and he’s already in his lovey-dovey phase,” jokes Caitlyn.
Viktor lifts his own drink to his lips to hide a smirk.
After several hours of hard work unpacking all of the boxes, setting up furniture, and even assembling some of it (Jayce didn’t want to impose, but the other three insisted), they are now sprawled in what will soon be the living room. Viktor, Caitlyn and Vi have taken over the couch, while Jayce brought a kitchen chair and placed it in front of them.
Empty boxes and Styrofoam litter the floor, but Jayce doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He’s ordered pizza for everyone and picked up beers from the corner store.
Viktor would have thought he’d feel out of place among this group – after all, they know each other much longer than he knows anyone here – but he felt included in every conversation. As pizza slices disappeared and cans emptied, they talked about music, Caitlyn’s return to the orchestra last week, their upcoming concert, their families, their jobs…
In fact, it’s Vi who might have felt left out with all the talk about music, but she still seemed genuinely interested in the conversation. She seems invested in everything that’s part of her girlfriend’s life.
The sun has set long ago, the light of late November never lasting until dinnertime, and the apartment is bathed in a bluish light streaming through the curtainless window.
Caitlyn, who had been lying across Vi’s lap, sits up during a moment of silence.
“I think we’ll head out now, hm?”
She glances at the woman with bright hair, who nods with a smile.
“Yeah. Our Caitlyn’s had a long week, and I think it’s only a matter a seconds before she falls dead asleep.”
Caitlyn nudges Vi with her shoulder, a teasing smile on her lips, though the fatigue in her gesture is clear. Viktor watches as the two of them stand, arms wrapped around each other’s waists, while Jayce wishes them a good night and thanks them once more.
Viktor bids them farewell too, doing his best to hide the jealousy simmering inside him. They seem so happy together, so understanding of each other, and Viktor knows it’s nearly impossible for him to achieve that. But he pushes those thoughts aside and plasters a smile on his face.
Viktor glances at Jayce as the women put on their coats and shoes.
“Do you, uh, want me to stay and help you clean up?”
The question is ridiculous – there’s hardly anything to straighten up besides two empty pizza boxes, four plates, and some cans – but Jayce’s face lights up with a smile.
“Yeah, sure, why not!”
Viktor returns the smile and waves a final goodbye to the girls, who wishes them a good night one last time before leaving.
Once Jayce and Viktor are alone, the latter hides behind his can again to mask his embarrassment in the silence, but he finishes his drink and has to set the empty metal shell down on the floor.
“Oh! Uh, do you want another one? It’s just your first, right?” Jayce quickly gets up from his chair. “I can grab you another from the fridge. If you want.”
The soft tone of his voice and his considerate offer makes Viktor’s heart clench in a way he doesn’t understand – or doesn’t want to face.
“No, thank you though. I’m not supposed to drink too much,” Viktor replies, his eyes following Jayce as he steps closer and sits on the couch in the spot opposite him.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Jayce asks, genuine curiosity lighting up his face.
“My medication. I can drink with my painkillers and muscle relaxants, but only a small amount. Otherwise, I might get so tired that I could just collapse at any moment,” Viktor chuckles softly.
“Ohh, right. I don’t know how I didn’t think of that.”
“You had no reason to,” Viktor replies, a small smile tugging at his lips.
Jayce returns the smile, turning fully toward Viktor. He pulls his legs up and wraps his arms around them, resting his head on his knees. Viktor thinks he might just stop breathing. With his muscular arms visible under his blue-and-black striped long-sleeve shirt and his hair falling perfectly into place, Jayce makes Viktor’s head spin – and he can’t even blame the alcohol.
“Speaking of, how are you doing? With your illness?”
Viktor sighs, briefly averting Jayce’s gaze as he absently plays with the strings of his hoodie.
“Do you want the real answer or the less heavy one?”
Jayce frowns and lifts his head. “The real answer.”
Viktor hesitates for a moment before answering. He hates talking in debt about his illness – not because it makes him uncomfortable, but because he’s used to being treated differently by those he lets see behind his mask. But Jayce… Viktor wants to believe he won’t do the same, because he hasn’t given him any reason to think otherwise.
“It’s deteriorating. We still don’t know what it is, and all I can do is drown my pain with medication that isn’t even suited to my mystery condition.”
Jayce’s face softens, but his eyebrows remain furrowed, giving him an unmistakably worried expression.
“Christ, Viktor…”
Viktor looks away again, wondering if he was wrong to think Jayce would react differently.
“And your leg?” Jayce asks.
Viktor shrugs. “Eh. Same old, same old. With my cane and brace, I manage pretty well.”
“You wear a brace?”
Viktor nods, unable to suppress a smile at Jayce’s surprised expression.
“It’s not noticeable at all…”
“No, it’s discreet enough to stay hidden under my pants.”
Jayce places his feet back on the floor and observes Viktor for a moment, as if trying to see what he hadn’t noticed before. Viktor feels Jayce’s gaze on him, almost heavy, and it makes his cheeks take on a rosy hue.
“Can I…” Jayce’s eyes meet Viktor’s again. “Can I see?”
Once again, Viktor feels his heart drop to his feet, and he blinks a few times to steady his thoughts.
“Uh… okay. If you want.”
He lifts his right leg onto the couch and rolls his up his pant leg until the brace comes into view. It’s a custom-made prototype, stabilizing his leg from above the knee to just before the ankle with an ingenious assembly of leather straps, carbon fiber reinforcement and a mechanism allowing full range of motion.
Jayce moves closer to him. He takes Viktor’s leg and places it on his lap, and the conductor feels as though his heart might leap out of his chest with how fast it’s pounding. Jayce’s touch is gentle and his hands burning hot, and it sends shivers down Viktor’s spine. The younger man holds the other’s ankle with one hand, tracing the outline of the brace with the other.
“It’s beautifully made,” he says softly.
“…thank you.” The words barely escape Viktor’s lips, as though he’s struggling to find air.
“You made it yourself?”
Once again, that expression of surprised admiration.
Viktor nods. “Mhm,” is all he can manage to answer.
Jayce slowly shakes his head, a wide grin lighting up his face. He doesn’t release his delicate hold on Viktor’s leg, and the latter wonders if Jayce can hear how loud his heart is beating.
“What?” Viktor asks.
Jayce’s gaze lifts back to Viktor, and suddenly, every bit of restraint he’d been clinging to, every thought of not giving in, vanishes in an instant. Never has he looked at Viktor like this before, and never has Viktor felt such a powerful current running through him.
He can’t decide whether he hates or loves how the alcohol has made Jayce bolder.
“Everything I learn about you only confirms what I already believed. I don’t know anyone as strong or as brilliant as you, Viktor. You amaze me.”
Viktor stares blankly at Jayce, his mouth slightly open. “Jayce, I…” Never before had words touched him so deeply, and a warmth spreads through his chest.
Jayce looks away, and Viktor notices the color rising in his cheeks. As bold as he’s become, he’s no less nervous, and that only makes him more attractive in Viktor’s eyes.
“Viktor… I wanted to say…” Jayce begins. His hand stops tracing Viktor’s skin, but the other remains beneath his ankle. “I wanted to make sure it doesn’t bother you that I’m your neighbor now.”
Of all the things Jayce could have said, this was the last Viktor expected.
“Wh- what? Did I do anything to make you think that?” he asks, furrowing his eyebrows.
Jayce shrugs, still not meeting Viktor’s gaze.
“No- I… I don’t know… Caitlyn told me…”
Viktor’s face falls. “Oh.”
Jayce nods slowly. “She probably shouldn’t have. Just like she probably shouldn’t have talked to you about me either.”
Viktor swallows hard. He knows full well they’re treading on dangerous ground.
“Yes. Probably,” he answers softly.
He pauses, taking a moment to choose his words carefully.
“But no, it doesn’t bother me. On the contrary.”
He’s decided to be honest. After all, Jayce has been more confident and open than usual, and that gives Viktor the courage to be vulnerable too.
“Really?” Jayce’s face softens immediately, and a small smile forms on his lips.
When he meets Viktor’s gaze again, the latter has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from reacting to just how adorable he looks.
“Yeah,” Viktor replies. “I enjoy your company, believe it or not.”
Jayce laughs. The first thought that crosses Viktor’s mind is that he’d do anything to hear that sound again and again.
“Can I ask you something else, then?” the trumpeter asks.
“Sure.”
“Why…” Jayce looks away again, his cheeks growing even redder. “Why did you kiss me?”
“Why?” Viktor scoffs. He’s spent so much time dwelling on the aftermath of his action that he’s never wanted to confront what drove him to do it in the first place.
“Because I wanted to? I don’t know… I wasn’t thinking.”
Jayce nods slowly, and Viktor knows his mind is racing, trying to make sense of his feelings. He decides not to let Jayce overthink for too long.
“I haven’t stoped thinking about it since.”
Jayce meets Viktor’s gaze again, and the intensity in his eyes sends a shiver down Viktor’s spine.
“Me neither.”
Jayce hesitantly rests his hand on Viktor’s leg again, gradually sliding it upward until it reaches his knee, where he stops. Viktor watches him wide-eyed, unable to breathe properly.
“You seemed like you regretted doing it. Why?”
“You’re asking a lot of questions tonight…” Viktor murmurs, shifting on the couch as his body is beginning to respond to Jayce’s touch.
“Do you still regret it?” Jayce continues, ignoring the teasing remark.
“I only regret it if you do.”
“I don’t.”
Viktor takes in the rise and fall of Jayce’s chest with each breath, the way his pupils have noticeably grown, how his lips are slightly parted, and the intensity in his eyes that Viktor had never seen before.
“Then I don’t either.”
Jayce grins. That fucking grin…
His hand slides higher up Viktor’s injured leg, reaching his thigh. Viktor holds his breath.
“Can I kiss you?”
Viktor inhales a shaky breath. He can’t believe what he’s hearing.
No, I shouldn’t. No, no, no…
“Yes. Fuck, yes.”
Without waiting any longer, Jayce moves swiftly, leaning over Viktor and pressing that signature, handsome smile of his onto the other man’s lips. Viktor feels as though the world has stopped spinning, his every thought consumed by the feeling of Jayce’s lips fitting perfectly against his own.
He returns the kiss with as much fervor as the first time, except this time, he doesn’t pull away when Jayce lifts Viktor’s second leg onto the couch, keeping the first one steady and secure in his grip. He settles between his legs, his free arm braced beside Viktor’s head to keep himself stable.
Viktor wraps his arms around Jayce’s neck and his left leg around his waist. He pulls Jayce closer, pressing their bodies together. A shared warmth courses between them, and their kiss deepens with a newfound intensity, one they’ve never explored before. An undeniable hunger.
Viktor pulls back to catch his breath. He bites his lip as he takes in Jayce’s state – chest rising and falling heavily, lips already swollen, and cheeks as pink as Vi’s hair. A smirk tugs at Viktor’s mouth.
“Wasn’t I supposed to help you tidy up?”
Jayce chuckles, their faces so close Viktor can feel his breath ghosting over his skin. “This is better, isn’t it?” he says, his voice low.
“Mhm.”
Viktor slides his arms down from around Jayce’s neck, letting his hands graze down to the hem of Jayce’s shirt. The other man watches him intently and leans back slightly, helping Viktor pull the shirt off over his head.
When Jayce’s shirt hits the floor, he’s already back against Viktor, moving so quickly that the other barely has time to process what’s happening. Viktor lets their kiss linger but eventually pulls back again. His eyes roam over Jayce’s torso, and his heart pounds even harder. He had assumed Jayce was muscular from his broad shoulders, his forearms, and the dumbbells they’d just hauled upstairs – but he hadn’t allowed himself to imagine he could look this good. That his build could be this unreal.
“God…” Viktor breathes out, the word slipping out before he can stop it. His desire for Jayce only intensifies with every passing second.
“For the record,” Viktor says when he notices Jayce looking away, a thin, embarrassed smile on his lips, “I had no intention of actually helping you tidy up.”
Jayce chuckles again, much to Viktor’s delight. He leans down, planting a soft kiss at the junction between Viktor’s jaw and neck. “I knew it,” he murmurs against his skin.
Jayce’s hand, once resting on Viktor’s leg, slides upward until it reaches the inside of his thigh. Viktor is painfully aware that there’s no way to hide the effect Jayce is having on him, and he’s certain he has noticed. But Viktor also knows Jayce is in the same situation. He can feel it as he presses harder against him.
When Viktor reaches for Jayce’s belt, the memories of what happened – or rather, almost happened – in the trumpeter’s office flood back to him, and he nearly stops. But once again, Jayce mirrors his movement, his hands resting on the button of Viktor’s pants.
Jayce searches Viktor’s gaze for approval. Even though Viktor’s heart and body are aligned and want to scream yes, he hesitates. He’s not supposed to let himself get attached to anyone. He had sworn he wouldn’t.
“Viktor?”
Jayce waits patiently. Despite his desire still being unmistakable, there’s a visible concern in his eyes. He truly cares about Viktor. He’s probably the first, the only one – at least in this way.
Viktor takes a deep breath. “Yeah.”
“Yeah?”
He nods. “Yeah.”
This time, it’s Viktor who pulls Jayce toward him and, without breaking their kiss, undoes the taller man’s belt. Jayce, on the other hand, moves with more uncertainty, his hands trembling slightly, but he manages to unbutton Viktor’s pants.
When Jayce’s hand, large and warm, touches Viktor’s cool skin and slides down into his pants, Viktor can’t suppress a gasp and briefly pulls his lips away from Jayce’s. He doesn’t let the moment linger too long, quickly moving to return the favor and take him in his hand. In this moment, with his thoughts consumed entirely by Jayce – his desire and his yearning to please him – nothing else matters. Not his doubts, and not his insecurities.
Even though Jayce’s touch is uncertain, it sends electricity coursing through Viktor’s entire body. Despite never having explored each other in this way before, it comes naturally to them. Unconsciously, Viktor bucks his hips in rhythm with Jayce’s movements, and the latter mirrors him. Even their breathing seems to sync, becoming louder and more irregular as they draw closer.
With his free hand, Jayce cups Viktor’s face and rests his forehead against his. Their gazes lock, and the younger man’s expression – twisted with pleasure – and parted lips, are almost too much for Viktor to bear. He closes his eyes, trying to focus on the physical sensations rather than the way his heart races uncontrollably.
They remain in sync until the end, falling over the edge together. Jayce groans loudly, pressing his lips against Viktor’s as they both come down slowly from their high.
Strangely, even though they’ve never been this intimate before, it’s the aftermath that feels less natural. Once they’ve both gathered their senses, cleaned up a bit, and redressed, Viktor struggles to find the right words.
He wants to tell Jayce how much he enjoyed the moment and how he’s never felt this comfortable with anyone. But all he manages to do is stand up, grab his cane that he had left leaning against the couch, and finally break the silence.
“I, uh… I should go. It’s getting late.”
Jayce looks up at Viktor with wide eyes and nods. “Yeah, okay.”
He’s been unusually quiet too. Viktor notices how his cheeks haven’t returned to their natural color and how he avoids holding his gaze for too long.
Jayce follows Viktor to the door, where the older man puts on his shoes. He can feel Jayce’s eyes on him, and it makes his heart race. How can he still feel nervous after everything that just happened?
“I guess I’ll see you Monday then,” Viktor says as he straightens up.
“Hm? Oh, yeah. Monday.”
Jayce scratches the back of his head, still not meeting his eyes.
“Uhm… do you think we could practice here instead? No need to go all the way to the university now that we’re neighbors, right?”
Viktor can’t help but smile. Jayce’s nervousness after being so bold earlier is somehow both incredibly attractive and adorable – a combination he didn’t even know was possible.
“Yeah, good idea. We’ll do it at my place instead; I’m more settled in than you.”
Jayce nods with a shy smile. “Yeah, okay.”
“For practice, right?” Viktor jokes with a teasing tone.
Jayce chuckles, finally meeting his eyes. “Yeah. For practice.”
Viktor grins and opens the door. “Good night, Jayce.”
“Good night, Viktor,” he replies, returning his smile.
Before he’s too tempted to stay and throw himself at Jayce for another kiss, Viktor steps way and closes the door behind him. He crosses the few steps separating his apartment from Jayce’s while his heart is still racing far too fast in his chest.
A part of him wonders if he just made a huge mistake, but another part, a stronger and more insistent one, has, this time, no regrets.
Notes:
i just realized this chapter is basically just one long ass scene, but whatever
i hope you had as much fun reading it as i had writing it :)
(next chapter might take a while to come out cuz i'm going on a trip for two weeks)
thanks for reading ily all <3
Chapter 12
Notes:
I'M BACK sorry it took so long!!
hope you like this one :)
Chapter Text
It’s only been two days since Jayce last saw Viktor – not even 48 hours, actually – but the wait has never felt so long. It’s even worse than after their first kiss, because this time, Jayce is the one who initiated it. And he’s the one who asked for more.
The truth is, he hasn’t thought about anything else since Viktor left Saturday night. He fell asleep late after spending hours staring at his ceiling, recalling every word, every kiss, every touch.
The worst part is knowing that Viktor is right next door. That only a single wall separates them. Even though Jayce is embarrassed and worried he might have seemed desperate, he can’t wait to see Viktor again. To finally close the so-short distance between them. Yes, he’s scared it’ll be awkward – and he knows it will be – but there’s an anticipation that’s far less frightening than what he had gotten used to. At least his fear isn’t entirely negative.
They hadn’t agreed on a time, and Jayce had no desire to text Viktor to ask, so he showed up in front of the conductor’s apartment around the usual time. He wasn’t used to being the one who had to knock on the other’s door; normally, he drowned his stress by getting his office ready. But now, he has no choice but to knock his trembling hand against Viktor’s door, waiting for it to open as his heart beats faster and faster.
The door opens a few seconds later to reveal Viktor with a faint smile on his lips. He’s wearing a light blue shirt, two buttons undone, revealing his collarbones.
Jayce’s breath catches in his throat.
“Jayce. Come in.”
The conductor steps aside and lets Jayce pass. Looking around, he realizes he’s never had this much access to Viktor’s world before. Viktor had been to his workplace and his new home, but Jayce had not seen as much. He didn’t know how Viktor lived, what he looked like in the comfort of his own space. So, he takes his time to take it all in.
He steps in a tastefully decorated main room, with paintings hanging all around. He notices a large window with a view of the park across the street – a view Jayce’s apartment, unfortunately, doesn’t have, and one he envies jealously. However, despite the overall beauty of the place, there’s quite a bit of clutter here and there. Papers on the coffee table, sheet music on the kitchen counter, stacks of books next to the couch. Actually, it’s a lot like Viktor; distinguished but full of character, and beautiful in its imperfections.
Jayce points to a music stand and two chairs set in front of the living room window. “Should I sit there?”
“Mhm.”
The voice comes from behind him. Viktor sits in the chair on the right as Jayce places his trumpet case beside the one on the left and sits down. He can feel Viktor’s gaze on him, persistent, piercing. It sends shivers down his spine and certainly doesn’t do anything to slow his racing heart.
Viktor gives him a few instructions, as usual, but Jayce struggles to focus. He’s quickly ready to play, but his hands are still trembling slightly. He can’t get over the fact that the man he passionately kissed, the one who made him see stars, is just sitting in front of him, speaking as if nothing happened.
He starts playing, but unsurprisingly, he doesn’t perform as well as he normally does. Again. It’s the second week in a row he’s been too distracted by Viktor to play properly. He stops and shakes his hand, trying to make it stop trembling.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Just, uh…” Jayce shifts his gaze from the sheet music to meet Viktor’s eyes. He still wears a faint smile, a sign that he too hasn’t forgotten. A silent implication.
“Just distracted,” Jayce finishes with a chuckle.
He notices how the corners of Viktor’s mouth twitch into a wider smirk before he regains composure and resumes a more neutral expression.
“Distracted? Something on you mind?”
Jayce scoffs and slowly shakes his head. He was about to say no, try to avoid the subject, but what was the point?
“You know exactly what.”
This time, Viktor doesn’t hide the smile forming on his lips, which Jayce is finding increasingly hard not to stare at.
“We have work to do, Jayce.” His tone is falsely resolute, as if he doesn’t quite believe it himself.
“I don’t think I can work under these conditions.”
These conditions being Viktor looking this good and maybe also the growing tightness in his pants. That might make it a bit hard to stay focused…
Viktor tuts and looks away. Jayce can tell he’s debating whether this is a good idea or not. After all, they were supposed to keep things professional, and this would be anything but professional. But Jayce has never wished more for Viktor to give in once again.
The conductor runs a hand through his hair and shifts his gaze back to Jayce. To his lips, then his eyes. The trumpeter’s heart skips a beat.
“The concert is in less than two weeks,” says Viktor.
“I’ve got the solo down.”
“That’s not what I’m seeing.”
Touché. Jayce chuckles. His left knee, where he still holds his trumpet, begins bouncing with impatience.
“In rehearsals with the orchestra, it works.”
“Hm. I guess so.”
The tension is unbearable; Jayce feels like Viktor is equipped with a magnet, and he’s doing everything he can to resist its pull. But inevitably, the pull is too strong.
They were supposed to meet only to practice. They were supposed to remain professional. These were all things they had decided while level-headed and with a clear mind. So, these should be the best choices, the choices to respect. Yet unavoidably, when clarity fades and desire takes the lead, those choices are cast aside. In the heat of the moment, the consequences of our actions feel insignificant, driving us to repeat the same mistakes time and time again.
This is why Jayce and Viktor end up kissing again. Jayce’s trumpet quickly finds the floor, and Viktor abandons his chair just as quickly, replacing it with Jayce’s thighs.
Now that they know they’re on the same wavelength, at least in certain ways, it’s as if the floodgates have opened, and there’s no way to close them. Jayce isn’t usually the type to feel this kind of hunger so intensely, but with Viktor, it’s different.
The sloppy make-out session ends with Viktor on his knees and Jayce gripping his hair as if his life depends on it. Jayce doesn’t know if it’s the combination of the way Viktor looks up at him – piercing yet brimming with emotion – or the sheer obscenity of what’s happening that drives him so wild, but it’s enough to make him feel like he’s losing his mind.
Jayce Talis isn’t supposed to be this affected by something so seemingly trivial. But deep down, he knows it hints at something bigger, something stronger, threatening to break free every time Viktor makes him feel this way. Yet, he can’t let it happen. And though keeping control grows increasingly difficult, he still manages to bury it deep within himself – for now.
Viktor has now resolved one of the issues, one of the conditions that made focusing difficult. However, in doing so, he left Jayce struggling to catch his breath, his cheeks burning, and his legs trembling. And he created a new problem – he’s soiled his beautiful face and his hair that had, until then, fallen so flawlessly on his head.
Viktor stands up before Jayce has a chance to say a word or even attempt to return the favor. An amused smile spreads across his glistening lips. He grabs his cane and heads toward the hallway.
“Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
Jayce listens, not that he really has much of a choice. He tries to pull himself together, to recover from what just happened, but he’s still a bit in shock. He never imagined Viktor would take the lead like that, especially since Saturday hadn’t gone anything like this. But clearly, Viktor had felt it too – that they’d opened the door to something new between them.
He glances at the sheet music resting on Viktor’s stand and his trumpet abandoned on the floor. He can’t help but smile. They barely have been used, and he doesn’t feel like picking them up again.
Viktor returns a few seconds later with a towel in one hand, using it to wipe his face, and another held in the same hand as his cane. He tosses it to him as soon as he’s close enough. Jayce catches it effortlessly with one hand. He quickly wipes himself off, feeling Viktor’s gaze on him, which only makes the heat in his cheeks rise.
Viktor acts normally, calmly, as if he does this every day, and Jayce lacks that ease. The latter almost feels like the older one is acting detached, which doesn’t help his confusion and nervousness. However, his experience only makes him more intriguing in Jayce’s eyes.
Once Jayce is done, he meets Viktor’s eyes again, catching the faint smile he’s wearing. Jayce looks away, chuckling nervously.
Come on, think of something to say…
“Well, this definitely won’t help me stay focused…”
The moment the words leave his mouth, Jayce regrets them. They come out awkwardly, and it’s painfully obvious he’s just trying to fill the silence. But Viktor doesn’t seem to mind, his smile unwavering. He simply shrugs.
“Eh. You’re nailing the solo.”
Jayce laughs softly. At least Viktor didn’t lose his sarcasm.
“In any case,” Viktor continues, leaning on his cane, “I’d already given up on continuing practice.”
“I don’t think I could’ve managed it anyway,” Jayce admits.
Silence falls over the room again, and Jayce tells himself that the sensible thing to do would be to leave. That’s what Viktor did last time, so that must be what he wants, right?
But Jayce doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to act like they’re a one-night stand with nothing left to say to each other. Still, despite that desire, he can’t find the right words to cut through the heavy silence.
Luckily, Viktor does it for him. “I’m going to take a shower, if you don’t mind.”
Jayce takes it as a cue and stands up, accepting defeat and preparing to leave. “No, it’s fine.” His tone, unintentionally, betrays a hint of disappointment.
Viktor frowns slightly as he watches Jayce stand up. He gestures toward the couch with a nod of his chin. “You can wait there, if you want. I’ll be right back.”
“Oh, okay.” Jayce can’t help the grin spreading across his face.
Viktor disappears again, and Jayce has no choice but to drag himself to the couch. He quickly starts to daydream as he stares at the large window in front of him. The sun has been down for a while already, but no curtain covers the window, so Jayce watches the night unfold through the bare trees across from the building. He suddenly feels heavy and decides to lie down while waiting for Viktor. He finds the couch surprisingly comfortable, and a wave of fatigue washes over him. Though adrenaline still courses through his veins, the weight of the past few weeks catches up to him, and his eyes close before he even notices.
Jayce has never lived with as many contradictions, and how he feels right now is no exception. Even though his body is weighed down by exhaustion, he feels lighter than he did just a few minutes ago. He had been afraid that Viktor would once again hide behind the excuse of professionalism, and that what they experienced together last Saturday would be swept under the rug. Realizing that’s not the case lifts a weight off his shoulders. He quickly falls asleep to the soothing sound of running water.
***
When Jayce opens his eyes again, he’s blinded by a sharp ray of sunlight. He immediately sits up, blinking several times before realizing where he is. He recognizes the large curtainless window, the coffee table, the piles of books, the music stand, his trumpet case. He’s still at Viktor’s – and it’s morning.
He also notices something that slipped off his shoulders when he sat up; a gray wool blanket that had been draped over him. His mind, still sluggish from sleep, takes a moment to try and remember where he might’ve found it – before it clicks. He runs his fingers lightly over the blanket, a smile tugging at his lips as he imagines Viktor placing it gently over his sleeping body.
A quick glance at his phone tells Jayce it’s already past 8 a.m. He slept nearly twelve hours, which is surprising, considering he had to curl up his legs to fit on the couch.
His workday doesn’t start for a few more hours, but he suspects that’s not the case for Viktor. A quick glance through the rooms of the apartment confirms it, even though Jayce doesn’t go into Viktor’s bedroom. Even in his absence, it would feel like intruding on his personal space. Instead, he returns to the living room to gather his things and leave. That’s when he spots a post-it stuck to coffee table.
“Jayce. I left for work, but make yourself at home. There’s still coffee in the pot.”
It’s signed with a V whose right stroke stretches out to the side, exactly like a square root symbol.
“Ha, smart,” Jayce thinks as he tucks the note in his pocket and heads to the kitchen. He hadn’t planned on staying, but he’d feel bad not taking advantage of the sweet gesture Viktor left him. So, he grabs the mug next to the coffee maker and pours himself the rest of the still warm coffee.
He can’t shake the strangeness of the situation as he sips his coffee at the kitchen island, but it’s impossible to deny the strange warmth that’s settled back into his chest. It’s the same feeling he’d had when Caitlyn told him that Viktor cared about him more than he was willing to admit. And once again, that feeling lingers. It stays with him when he leaves the apartment – interrupted briefly by a small moment of panic when he realized he didn’t have a key to lock the place, before remembering the door locks automatically. And it continues as he heads to the university, when he teaches his class, and when he comes back home in the evening.
Catching a glimpse of Viktor’s apartment door out of the corner of his eye, Jayce is tempted to knock. But to say what, exactly? Sorry for falling asleep, I really wanted to spend more time with you? Thanks for the coffee? I thought about you all day?
He sighs and walks into his own place.
***
While waiting for practice to begin, Jayce, sitting at his desk, stubbornly works on building his final exam for his second years. He wants it to not be impossible, but challenging enough to require actual studying, and it’s harder than it looks.
Ever since he moved, he’s farther from the university than when he lived with Caitlyn, so he no longer goes home between his class and practice. He’s falling back into his old routines, and he almost missed seeing the sun set through his office window – the only room where he truly feels comfortable in this place.
Since Caitlyn came back the previous week, the trumpet section has been noticeably more enthusiastic. Jayce had forgotten how much she managed to motivate him just by being there, and by clearly playing better than him. It always pushes him to do better.
It also changes the dynamic during breaks. Instead of just talking with Viktor and Henry, conversations are brought back to life by Caitlyn’s presence. Which, honestly, makes them more interesting, because Jayce could never quite shake that feeling that Henry was tagging along, and that he would’ve rather been alone with Viktor.
But of course, Caitlyn’s return also means no more one-on-one conversations with Viktor at all. Just a few glances exchanged while they laugh at one of Caitlyn’s jokes or smiles shared when no one is looking.
Jayce had especially been looking forward to the end of practice, knowing he and Viktor would walk home together. And this time, not just to their usual corner, but all the way home. A solid twenty to thirty minutes alone.
After saying goodbye to their friends and colleagues, the two men begin their walk, initially in silence. It’s not an uncomfortable silence – if anything, it’s welcome after the loud noise of an orchestra rehearsal – but Jayce still feels the pressure to be the one to break it.
“Do you have a car?”
“Yes,” Viktor replies, a faint, puzzled smile on his lips. “Why?”
Jayce shrugs. He already knew the answer – he’d seen Viktor leave in it earlier that week – but he needed a way to ease into what he really wanted to ask.
“Just curious. I walk home because I don’t have one, so I was wondering if you did the same.”
“Ah. No. I like getting some fresh air after rehearsals. It always does me good,” Viktor says, turning his gaze back ahead.
“I get that.”
“And” he continues, “before this semester, it was also a time I’d unwind with music.”
He glances back at Jayce with the same amused expression. Jayce chuckles and runs a hand through his hair.
“Damn. Am I interrupting your meditative walks?”
He said it sarcastically, but Viktor’s smile only softens.
“No. I prefer having company. Your company.”
Throughout the entire walk home, their conversation is light, fun. It reminds Jayce why he enjoys talking with Viktor so much. They don’t bring up what happened, but it doesn’t feel like they’re ignoring it or pretending it never happened either. It’s clear from their tone and flirty comments that they’re both aware of the space it takes up between them – but neither of them seems bothered by it. Jayce certainly isn’t.
As they part ways at their doors, Jayce is tempted to invite Viktor in. But when he sees him take out his keys, he chickens out. Again.
“Good night. See you Monday.”
“Good night, Jayce.”
Viktor disappears behind his door, and even though Jayce is a little disappointed that it ends there, he unlocks his own door with a smile on his face.
***
When the sound of a text message breaks the silence Monday evening, the little bubble Jayce had been in while getting ready bursts quickly. While his heart skips a beat when he sees the message is from Viktor, it quickly sinks to the floor.
“Hi Jayce. I’m going to have to cancel tonight. I’m sick. I don’t think I’d be any help to you in this state. Sorry. See you Thursday.”
His chest tightens as he imagines Viktor, just on the other side of the wall, sick enough to be stuck in bed. He quickly types his answer back.
“It’s okay, take care of yourself.”
Jayce sets his phone down on the bathroom counter and looks at his reflection in the mirror. He had been fixing his hair and trimming his beard – and suddenly, it all feels so foolish. The realization of what he was doing hits him full force. What exactly had he been expecting? A wave of shame rushes to his face, coloring it red.
He imagines showing up at Viktor’s place while the latter looks miserable, having to play the trumpet while drowning in embarrassment. Honestly, he dodged a bullet.
Maybe Viktor knew. Maybe he didn’t want to deal with the awkwardness that would inevitably follow once they were back in the same conditions where they had always given in. Maybe he didn’t want to set aside his professionalism again just because Jayce acts like a horny teenager around him. Maybe that made the decision to cancel easier. Is he even sick?
Suddenly, the certainty that Viktor is avoiding him crashes down on Jayce, and he has to sit down. He drops heavily onto the couch and buries his face in his hands. A frustrated groan escapes his lips – he feels so damn stupid. He really thought things were going well with Viktor, that they were on the same wavelength, but now it feels like he pushes too far. Like he made Viktor uncomfortable.
I messed it all up again.
***
The following Thursday, Jayce doesn’t feel like leaving his office. It’s almost as if his anxiety has him glued to his chair. He hasn’t heard from Viktor, nor has he seen him in the past few days, so he’s been stewing in his embarrassment with no way out. He wanted to call Caitlyn, to at least try to put his feelings into words, but he couldn’t do it – overwhelmed by the same stress he’s feeling now.
At 6;58 p.m., Jayce knows he’s out of time. He leaves his office and walks down the steps leading to the music wing. He enters the practice room at the same time as the usual last-minute arrivals, and his heart is pounding.
He doesn’t dare look at Viktor as he heads to his seat. He greets Caitlyn and Henry with a faint smile and a nod, then sits down next to them.
“I thought you were going to be late,” Caitlyn says as he takes out his trumpet.
“Hm? No, I was just busy, that’s all.”
Jayce allows himself a glance toward the conductor, but he completely freezes when he sees the state he’s in. Viktor, who usually sits straight and composed on his stool, is slumped over himself. He’s wearing a sweatshirt when he always wears button-ups to rehearsals, his face is pale, and dark circles dull his features.
The shame that had haunted Jayce for the past few days is suddenly replaced by a different kind of shame – the kind that comes from realizing he was wrong, and that he’d been incredibly selfish.
Viktor is sick. And it’s serious. He knew it, too. Viktor had told him it was getting worse. How could he have doubted him?
Jayce, unsettled, watches Viktor with wide eyes as he claps his hands to get the musicians’ attention and greets them. Jayce can tell he’s trying to act like everything’s normal, but his face betrays his exhaustion. Maybe not to everyone, but Jayce definitely sees it.
“Today is our last rehearsal before the concert.”
His voice is a little raspier than usual, Jayce notes.
“I just wanted to say that I’m really proud of what we’ve accomplished, and I’m confident it’s going to go really well. All that’s left to do is give your all, but above all, have fun. Trust in your abilities and in the hours of practice you’ve put into this. I can’t wait to finally show our audience what we’ve achieved!”
He flashes a faint smile to the musicians. Jayce can’t even bring himself to feel nervous about the concert – all he can think about is Viktor’s well-being.
“Before we run through our pieces one last time, Caitlyn has something she’d like to say.”
As Caitlyn begins talking about the post-concert outing at their usual bar, Jayce finds himself unable to take his eyes off Viktor. The latter, while looking at Caitlyn – who is sitting right next to Jayce – briefly meets Jayce’s gaze, but doesn’t hold it and quickly looks down at his sheet music.
Once Caitlyn finishes her announcement, Viktor speaks up again, suggesting they skip the break and finish earlier tonight – a suggestion most of the group agrees with.
They begin running through their pieces, and when it’s time for Jayce to play his solo, his hands are trembling. He misses a few notes at the beginning before managing to pull himself together and finish it properly, but it takes an immense effort to stay focused on the task.
As soon as rehearsal ends, Jayce quickly packs up his things and rushes to catch up with Viktor, who had already stepped out into the hallway.
“Hi, Jayce. Ready to head out?” Viktor asks when Jayce joins him, a faint smile on his lips.
“…Yeah.”
Jayce suddenly doesn’t know what to say, his mind racing as they head toward the exit. Viktor is walking slower than usual, leaning more heavily on his cane.
“Are you okay?”
The words slip out before Jayce can stop them, even though he knows how foolish the question sounds.
“I’m fine,” Viktor replies as he pushes open the door.
Jayce watches him struggle slightly as he makes his way down the few steps to the sidewalk. All he wants is to reach out and offer his support, but he knows that would cross a line.
“Let me call you a taxi,” he says instead.
“I said I’m fine.”
Viktor doesn’t look back and starts walking toward their building.
“You’re gonna walk the whole way?” Jayce asks, still at the bottom of the steps, as if frozen in place.
Viktor turns around slowly. “Jayce. Stop. I’m fine.” His tone is firm, resolute. It hurts Jayce that Viktor can’t even be honest with him.
“Don’t be stubborn, it’s a long walk and you –”
“Stop,” Viktor says weakly as Jayce keeps going.
“You’re in no shape to walk that far, and it wouldn’t hurt you to rest, and-”
“Jayce, stop!”
Jayce, who had stepped closer to Viktor, halts completely and flinches slightly, as if he’d been slapped. Viktor hadn’t even raised his voice much – just enough to be heard over Jayce’s rambling – but it’s so unexpected that it hits him like a blow. He sees the sorrow behind the conductor’s defiance, plain in his expression.
“I don’t need your help. I can take care of myself.”
He turns away and starts walking again. Jayce sees him raise his right hand to his face and clearly wipe away a tear. He hurries to catch up.
“I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.” His voice is thick with emotion.
Viktor doesn’t have time to reply before a fit of coughing brings him to a stop. Jayce feels utterly helpless watching someone he cares about so much suffer like this.
When Viktor finally catches his breath, he lets out a loud sigh. Without looking Jayce in the eye, he breaks the silence.
“Fine. Call the taxi.”
Jayce can’t suppress a quiet sigh of relief.
“But don’t think for a second about paying for it,” Viktor adds. “And come with me, since we’re going to the same place anyway.”
Jayce nods quickly. “Sure.”
He’s certainly not going to argue with Viktor about anything else tonight.
Sitting on the university steps, they wait for the taxi in silence. Jayce knows Viktor needs a moment, and he gives it to him without trying to fill the void.
When the taxi arrives, Jayce gives their address, and silence settles again. He glances at the older man a few times and sees that he has rested his head against the window and closed his eyes.
As expected, once they arrive, Viktor pays for the ride. Not a word is exchanged as they climb the stairs, until they reach their doors.
“Jayce?”
“Hm?” He was pulling out his keys but pauses.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For insisting.”
Viktor’s lips curl into a faint but sincere smile. Jayce feels a flutter in his stomach and finally smiles for the first time that evening.
“Good night, Jayce.”
“Good night, Viktor.”
Chapter 13
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
It’s been a week since Viktor has been struggling to get through his workdays. Well – four days, really, since he didn’t go in on Monday. He took his first sick day in… basically forever. And he would have gone, if it weren’t for the fact that he literally couldn’t take more than a few steps before his entire body screamed in pain and he had to sit down.
Today, the week is almost over, and even though he’s feeling a little better, his head is still throbbing from all the painkillers he’s taking, and the words and numbers on his computer screen are all starting to blur together.
Behind him, Sky is working relentlessly. Because yes – perhaps the worst part of all this is that it just so happens to be an especially busy and important week at work. After what is now months spent fine-tuning the calculations and computer prototypes, the filter is finally ready to be built. The technicians will begin assembling it as soon as next Monday. It's the final stretch.
Since their conversation last month, Viktor hasn’t felt like he was walking on eggshells around Sky anymore. Despite her offer, he never brought up anything personal again, but just knowing she understands what he’s going through gives him a kind of quiet support.
His illness, however, that took her a bit more time to figure out he really didn’t want to talk about it. He’d told her about his leg when she asked a few days after she was hired, and inevitably, when she saw the state he was in this week, she asked again. There was no hiding it – the coughing made it too obvious. He told her he was sick. That was enough for one day, but the next, when it was clear he was still unwell, she couldn’t help asking again.
He had no choice but to give her the rehearsed line he tells everyone: he has an undiagnosed chronic illness that affects most of his body, including his lungs. Just enough to stop the questions, but not enough to make people pity him more than they already do.
She indeed didn’t ask more questions after that, instead throwing herself even harder into their work to make up for Viktor’s slower pace. He noticed, and by the end of the week, when they have finally finished, checked everything and double-checked with their boss, he takes a moment to thank her.
“It’s really my pleasure.” She adjusts her glasses on her nose.
“At least some things never change,” thinks Viktor.
“Get some rest this weekend,” she continues, her own way of talking about his health without mentioning it directly.
Viktor lets out a soft scoff. “I’d like to, but I have a concert tomorrow. Rest will have to wait until Sunday.”
Sky’s face lights up in surprise. “Oh, really? That’s cool – I wish you the best of luck. Not that I think you need the luck,” she adds quickly. “Or should I say, ‘break a leg’?”
“One or the other, it doesn’t matter. I don’t really believe in that stuff,” he replies, a small smile on his lips. “Thank you.”
She returns his smile before turning around to pack her bag. Viktor does the same, then heads out and slowly walks to his car, leaning heavily on his cane. He doesn’t like using his car – he firmly believes that if everyone makes an effort, the massive amount of pollution caused by the city could decrease at least a little – but he’s had to accept that, right now, he needs it. If he’s set on going to work, he at least has to be able to get there.
Last night, he thought he was well enough to ditch the car and walk to rehearsal. The humiliating realization that he wasn’t hit him square in the face. He didn’t want Jayce to see him like that, and even less to see how sweet he was, how much he cared. He’s not about to let something like that happen again.
***
Back home, even though his body still aches, the meds are starting to wear off, and breathing feels like a task in itself, Viktor takes a moment to go over the scores in preparation for tomorrow. It’s his last chance to make sure he remembers everything – every tempo change, every time signature switch, every cue he gives his musicians. He has to stop a few times to cough, but each time, he stubbornly picks up where he left off. However, the last time he coughs, he ends up with blood in the palm of his hands.
That forces him to head to the bathroom to wash it off and take his nightly dose of medication. He takes it as a sign, and when he comes back to the living room, he lets his cane fall to the floor and stretches out on the couch. The TV, on at low volume, offers some background noise to drown out the sound of his strained breathing, and he quickly finds comfort in finally being able to relax.
He's pulled out of his small moment of peace by knocks at the door. For a moment, he doesn’t move an inch, so caught in a half-asleep daze that he wonders if he imagined the sound. But when he realizes it was real, he reaches for his cane and drags himself to the door. He unlocks it and opens it without thinking much, expecting a neighbor asking for a favor or maybe a lost delivery guy. He’s snapped out of his haze the second he sees it’s Jayce who’s standing on the other side.
For a second, Viktor had almost forgotten they were neighbors now. Jayce looks just as surprised – he was already turning away when Viktor opened the door.
“Jayce?”
“Viktor.” Jayce quickly steps back toward the doorframe he’d just left. “I thought you weren’t going to answer.”
Viktor can’t help but think Jayce looks especially adorable standing there, eyes sparkling in surprise and something else he can’t quite place. Worry? He hopes not.
“Let’s just say it takes me a bit longer to get to the door than it would take you,” Viktor says lightly, lifting his cane as if to prove his point.
He doesn’t want to make things heavy – especially not after last night – so he falls back on what feels safe: joking about his condition. But Jayce doesn’t seem to find it all that funny. Even though his lips pull into a faint smile, Viktor sees it clearly now – there was worry in his eyes.
“Is there something I can do for you?” Viktor asks when Jayce doesn’t say anything for several seconds.
“Oh, uh- no. Not really.” He rubs the back of his neck, clearly uncomfortable. Viktor doesn’t understand his hesitation or his intention. Jayce is the one who came to his door. Yet, Viktor is the one who feels as if he owes him something.
“I just wanted to see how you were holding up,” Jayce eventually says.
Viktor should’ve guessed as much, judging by the look on Jayce’s face.
“I’m doing alright, thank you.”
He figures Jayce must have heard him coughing. Viktor can hear his trumpet playing through the thin walls of their apartment, so it wouldn’t be surprising if the sound carried both ways.
Jayce nods quickly, but the expression on his face doesn’t quite match.
“You feel ready for the concert?” he asks.
“Of course,” Viktor replies as if it’s obvious. He always has to be ready and flawless for concerts. He feels he owes that to the musicians after all the work they’ve put into perfecting their pieces.
“I might just grab a stool to make it easier on myself.”
“Good. Perfect.” Jayce seems to relax a bit, as if it reassures him to see that Viktor isn’t pretending everything is completely normal. “I’m even surprised you’ve been doing concerts standing up.”
“I can stand for a while if I don’t walk. Normally, anyway.”
“Right.”
A few more seconds pass, and Viktor wonders if Jayce is waiting to be invited in. Honestly, it wouldn’t make sense – it’s already late and they need to be in good shape tomorrow. He’s sure Jayce thinks the same. Still, Viktor offers the possibility, not wanting to seem cold, especially not after how he reacted yesterday.
“Did you want to come in?”
Jayce seems to snap out of wherever his mind had drifted.
“No, no. I’m not going to bother you any longer. I just wanted to check in on you.”
“Okay. Thank you, Jayce, that’s…” Even though he hates feeling like this, he can’t deny the attention is really sweet, and his faint smile gives him away. “…very kind. See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah,” Jayce returns the smile. “See you tomorrow.”
Viktor gently closes the door and waits to hear Jayce’s footsteps fade away before walking away himself. He turns off the TV and goes to his bedroom, fully aware that if he lies back down on the couch, he’ll definitely fall asleep.
As he gets ready for bed, his thoughts unsurprisingly wander back to Jayce. The more time passes, the more he realizes that Jayce’s big heart isn’t just for show – he really wears it on his sleeve. Viktor likes that so much it scares him. It’s way too dangerous, but he knew from the start he was stepping into risky territory. He’s in way too deep now to back out easily.
He sighs and tries to think about something else.
***
“Viktor. We’re missing a music stand.”
“Impossible. Check backstage – if there’s none there, grab one from the practice room. There should still be some left.”
Viktor lets out a sigh as the trombonist who volunteered to help set up the stage strides off toward the back. The conductor, meanwhile, adjusts his own stand and stool. He needs to be able to see everyone, so the chairs have to be arranged accordingly.
At least the university lends them its auditorium for their concerts. They’ve been doing it for several years now, and it’s a huge relief for Viktor, because finding a venue is always a struggle. The auditorium is spacious, surprisingly beautiful, and has fairly good acoustics.
The concert is in four hours. In the meantime, they still need to finish setting the stage, do a soundcheck, eat and change, arrive early, and warm up. As for Viktor, his main task is to endure the pain as long as possible so he can take his usual afternoon dose right before the concert instead.
People gradually start to arrive. Viktor isn’t surprised, but it’s clear that everyone’s running later than usual. You’d think it would be easier to show up at 3 p.m. on a Saturday than at 7 p.m. every Thursday night, but apparently, people are creatures of habit. Still, he’s glad to see Jayce show up with his usual ten-minute head start – but that, too, is no surprise.
This time, Viktor doesn’t start on time, giving a few minutes buffer for the latecomers. But the moment he decides he’s waited long enough, he jumps right in, and everything begins to move incredibly fast. They only have an hour for their soundcheck, and even though that might sound like a lot, it’s still a race against the clock.
Considering that the full performance runs about an hour, it’s impossible to play through every piece. Viktor had already selected specific excerpts – sections where the balance between instruments or the tone might shift depending on the acoustics of the space.
As always, the session proves to be incredibly useful, and Viktor finishes it feeling even more prepared for tonight. The adrenaline coursing through his veins pushes his exhaustion to the background, allowing him to get through the rehearsal without trouble.
As he steps out of the auditorium, Viktor immediately finds himself among a cluster of musicians. Before every concert, most of the orchestra heads to a nearby restaurant – something Caitlyn always says helps build group spirit. It also saves everyone from having to rush home and back in such a short amount of time.
One person steps out from the group and walks up to him.
“Hey. You’re coming with us?” Jayce asks. He looks completely in his element, coat slung over his shoulder, case in hand, a bright smile lighting up his face. Of course he’s going to fit in effortlessly, with both the new and older musicians alike.
“No. I have to go home – I left my change of clothes there.”
It’s not untrue, but it’s definitely an excuse. It wasn’t forgetfulness – he deliberately left his clothes at home so he’d have a reason to duck out. Even if he managed to get through the rehearsal, the hardest part of the evening is still ahead. He needs a moment to himself. And really, he’s not about to make small talk with the group and inevitably have to admit that yes, it’s getting worse, yes, he’s in a rough patch, and no, he doesn’t know if it’s temporary or if this is officially a downward slope.
Jayce looks a little disappointed by Viktor’s answer, but before he can say anything, Caitlyn appears behind the trumpeter and rests a hand on his shoulder.
“We’re ready to go.”
Jayce nods at Caitlyn, but his gaze quickly returns to Viktor. The hesitation in his eyes is impossible to miss, and Viktor knows he can’t let him say whatever it is he’s about to say. Whether it’s an attempt to convince him to join, or worse, to ask if he can come along with him – Viktor won’t allow it. Jayce seemed so excited about going, he won’t let him change his plans for him or miss out on what makes concert nights special.
“I’ll see you later, guys. Have a good time,” Viktor says, addressing both Jayce and Caitlyn.
“…okay,” says Jayce. “See you later.”
Viktor quickly turns on his heel, leaving Jayce with the rest of the group, unable to look at his disappointed and worried expression for even a second longer.
***
Viktor parks his car in front of the university for the second time that day. This time, the sun has already set, allowing the streetlights to make the layer of snow on the ground glisten. There’s already activity in front of the large doors leading to the auditorium – members of the technical crew busy finalizing the welcome setup, and even some very early spectators gathering at the entrance.
The conductor grabs his cane from the passenger seat, opens the door, and steps into the crisp air. He holds the sides of his blazer tightly closed against his body during the short walk from his car to the door reserved for performers.
Inside, after walking through the small hallway leading to the dressing room reserved for the orchestra – or rather, a simple room with several chairs and tables to drop off their personal belongings – Viktor realizes that the atmosphere is even more electric than outside. The group that had gone out for dinner has already returned, filling the room with most of the musicians. Everyone is dressed in black from head to toe, each in their own way, but it makes it hard to spot anyone in particular.
Still, it only takes Viktor a few seconds for his eyes to land on Jayce – and it’s not even thanks to Caitlyn’s blue hair, though she’s standing right next to him. He’s facing away, but his broad shoulders and tall frame make him impossible to miss. At least to Viktor’s eyes.
He walks toward the small group of trumpet players busy assembling their instruments and blowing into them to warm them up a little – and to warm up their own lips as well.
When Jayce spots Viktor approaching, his eyes widen and he immediately stops what he was doing. He crosses the short distance between them to meet him.
Viktor is struck by just how attractive Jayce is. His black shirt clings to his body, outlining the shape of his muscular chest, and the dark color compliments his skin tone and eyes especially well. And his hair, as always, is perfectly styled – even now that it reaches his jawline. Did he trim his beard too? Viktor hadn’t even noticed earlier in the day, but now, it only adds to the look, and leaves him speechless.
It's Jayce who speaks first, cutting through the dumbstruck silence.
“Viktor. You look…”
His eyes scan the entirety of Viktor’s body, and the latter feels his heartbeat quickening from the intensity of his gaze alone.
“…uh, really good.”
His cheeks have taken on a rosy tint, and he looks away for a split second as he finishes his sentence. Adorable.
Viktor hadn’t even thought about his own appearance – for him, it’s nothing out of the ordinary. For every concert, he wears the same black blazer, paired with a fitted dark gray vest, high-waisted black pants wide enough to hide his brace, a white shirt underneath it all, and a black tie. Simple, but elegant enough; it always makes him feel like he exudes the kind of confidence expected of any conductor.
However, since this is Jayce’s first concert with them, he’s never seen Viktor dressed like this before.
And he seems to like it, Viktor thinks, smiling to himself.
“Thank you. You do too. Black suits you.”
“Thanks.” Jayce smiles like he wasn’t expecting to hear that. Which is impossible, Viktor thinks. If a dozen people haven't already told him, they're all thinking it, that's for sure.
“Do you feel ready?” Viktor asks, knowing that every step of this is new for Jayce.
“Yeah. I’m okay. A bit nervous,” he adds, fidgeting with his fingers.
“Don’t worry, you’ve got this,” Viktor says without a second of hesitation.
Jayce nods, like he’s trying just as much to believe Viktor as to believe in himself. “And you? Are you ready?”
Viktor knows Jayce isn’t talking whether he feels ready to conduct the orchestra. He’s asking if he feels ready to make it through the night – if he’s okay.
“Yes. All good.”
This time, it’s not a lie. He took double the dose he’s supposed to just before leaving, and it’s only just kicked in. He’s fine – no particular pain, no burning in his throat. As long as it lasts.
Viktor lets Jayce get back to his warm-up and takes the opportunity to check in with the other musicians. Everyone’s ready, everyone’s excited. Him included.
It’s show time.
***
Just a few seconds left before the concert begins. The musicians have just walked on stage; they’re placing their sheet music and adjusting their chairs one last time if needed. The first violinist plays the tuning note so everyone can tune to it, then the room falls silent. That’s Viktor’s cue.
He steps out from backstage, and the orchestra rises to their feet, accompanied by the audience’s applause. He makes his way to the front of the stage as quickly as his cane and current condition allow. He stops at center stage. Despite the blinding lights, he can tell the hall is full.
No one for him, but everyone for his beautiful orchestra.
Without a word, he turns around, and instead of sitting on his stool, he positions himself in front of it. He raises his arms into the air, glances over at the flutes – who open the first piece – gives them their cue, and they’re off.
The first piece is Il canto delle piume, a stunning neoclassical composition that begins gently before expanding and bursting into a vibrant arrangement of colors shared by all the musicians. It’s a powerful piece to open with, and the audience erupts into enthusiastic applause when Viktor finally lowers his arms. This time, when he turns to the crowd and bows, a genuine smile lights up his face. It’s probably their best run of the piece yet, and he’s incredibly proud.
It's now time for Viktor to give his speech. At every concert, he’s expected to properly greet the audience, introduce the program, and give his thanks. Viktor takes the opportunity to sit on his stool. He’s still feeling fine for now, even though he didn’t exactly hold back while conducting the first piece – but he doesn’t want to push his luck either.
For the conductor, the heart of the concert is the music, and everything else, he only does out of obligation, out of tradition. So, when a member of the tech crew hands him a microphone, he goes through his usual speech quickly. He doesn’t mention the stool; most of the audience has already attended one of their previous and has seen Viktor with his cane before. He figures it doesn’t need further explanation.
He takes a moment to thank the technical team and the university for lending them the space, and finally, the audience, for showing up in such large numbers. And with that, he hands the mic back, stands up carefully, and the show resumes.
The orchestra performs the next two pieces with just as much enthusiasm as the first. Despite a few small slip-ups – they’re so minor they’re almost certainly unnoticeable to the audience – they deliver a performance worthy of their reputation.
Viktor is so immersed in the music that he doesn’t think about anything else. Not the pain slowly settling into his lower back and knee, and not even about Jayce. Even though their eyes meet a few times when he cues his section, the only thing driving him in that moment is the music.
Since their program runs a full hour, it’s split in two by an intermission. It gives the musicians time to rest and greet the people who came to see them.
Viktor, as usual, heads toward their backstage room. He has no reason to wander through the crowd, knowing no one came to support him personally.
One his way backstage, a hand on his arm stops him mid-step.
“And where do you think you’re going?” Caitlyn asks, her hand still firmly holding him. “Come on, I’m sure Vi would love to see you again.”
Viktor knows she’s doing it out of kindness, and that Vi would probably be genuinely happy to see him again, but he can’t help but feel like she pities him, and that’s the last thing he needs. His pride wrestles with his reason, but in the end, reason wins.
“Alright,” he says, forcing a brightness into his expression.
Caitlyn gives a satisfied smile and turns back the way she came, Viktor following close behind.
As soon as he descends the steps leading to the main floor, he’s struck by the number of people – far more than he could grasp from the stage, blinded by the lights. He follows Caitlyn as quickly as he can, leaning heavily on his cane. They weave through the crowd, and along the way, Viktor receives several compliments from people he doesn’t know. He thanks them with a surprised smile but keeps moving, not wanting to lose sight of the young musician ahead of him.
They quickly spot the young woman; she’s easy to recognize, with her vibrant hair. Even in the middle of a crowd, she stands out. And it’s not even because her look stands out – in fact, she’s wearing a rather chic maroon button-up shirt, which, surprisingly, suits her built frame perfectly.
As soon as Vi sees them – or rather, sees Caitlyn – her face lights up and she moves in to hug her. Viktor can’t quite make out what they’re saying, but she seems to be showering Caitlyn with praise.
After what seemed a long time to Viktor, Vi steps aside and gives him a quick hug, one he isn’t sure how to reciprocate.
“That was an amazing first half. I’m already so excited for the rest,” she says, stepping back to stand beside Caitlyn.
Viktor nods appreciatively. “Thank you. I think I’m just as excited as you are.”
She chuckles softly. “I can’t even imagine how it must feel to accomplish something like this.”
“Very proud, that’s for sure. Of the musicians, especially.”
“As you should be.”
As Caitlyn begins asking her girlfriend which part she’s enjoyed the most so far, Viktor jumps slightly when he feels someone tap his back.
When he turns around, he’s met with a head of big curly hair, oversized glasses, and most of all, a big smile. Sky.
“Hi, Viktor,” she says, pulling him into a hug.
He’s so stunned he doesn’t even react. When she pulls back, Viktor’s surprised face makes her laugh.
“You didn’t seriously think I was going to miss this, did you?” she says, that warm smile still on her lips. “Okay, I’ll admit it was a bit tricky finding the place, since you didn’t tell me anything, but…”
“I’m really glad to see you,” Viktor manages once he snaps out of his stupor.
Viktor barely has time to speak with Sky – just enough for her to tell him how surprised and impressed she was by his talent, and how it felt like she was discovering a whole new side of her colleague. They’re quickly interrupted by newcomers joining the small group.
“Hey guys,” says Jayce, a wide smile on his face. On his arm is an older woman, with gray hair streaked with white and hazel eyes Viktor has come to recognize. It’s Jayce’s mother, without a doubt. Beyond a few similarities between them, Viktor recognizes her from the photo on Jayce’s desk.
“Hello everyone,” she says warmly, her voice instantly putting Viktor at ease. “I’m Ximena, Jayce’s mother. Are you going to introduce me to your friends?” she asks, turning to her son.
“Oh, uh, yeah.” Jayce had clearly zoned out, and Viktor pretends not to notice that his eyes had been fixed on him.
“Well, Caitlyn needs no introduction.”
“Hi Ximena,” the young musician says quickly, giving her a little wave.
“Vi, her girlfriend. You’ve met her before. And Viktor, my friend and the conductor of this orchestra.”
Maybe Viktor’s the only one who noticed. Maybe it wasn’t intentional. But Jayce hesitated slightly before calling Viktor his friend. And the way he avoids his gaze tells him it wasn’t an accident. Viktor tries to ignore the strange feeling it stirs in him.
Jayce finishes introducing everyone, and when his eyes land on Sky, he frowns.
“And… sorry, do we know each other?”
Sky, who hadn’t said a word since the Talis arrived, shakes her head.
“No. I’m Sky. I work with Viktor,” she answers, reaching out her hand to the trumpeter.
The latter nods slowly while accepting the handshake. “Oh, right. I’m Jayce.”
Even though they’ve become quite a large group, an uncomfortable silence settles after Jayce’s brief and somewhat cold reply. Viktor isn’t sure where he fits anymore; different worlds are colliding, and he doesn’t quite know how he feels about it.
Ximena eventually says she’s delighted to meet everyone, then turns her attention to Viktor.
“You’re really doing beautiful work,” she says, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Musically, of course, but humanely too. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
Viktor raises an eyebrow, not bothering to hide the amused smile tugging at his lips.
“Is that so?”
He glances at Jayce, who has suddenly turned beet red. He shoots his mother a look – probably meant to be subtle, but it’s anything but.
“I mean,” Ximena continues after catching her son’s eye, “not necessarily about you, that’s true. But Jayce did tell me how much the orchestra has done good for him. I think you can take some of the credit.”
“Well, it means a lot to hear that. I wasn’t aware,” says Viktor, finishing his sentence with a glance toward the one concerned.
Jayce seems to have accepted defeat, nodding with a tight-lipped smile. Viktor now finds himself very curious about what exactly was said between them. Whatever the details, he certainly appreciates the outcome – which is, quite frankly, unexpectedly cute.
Jayce’s expression suddenly shifts as he stares at a point behind the group. Without sparing a glance at anyone, he moves away toward whatever just unsettled him.
“I’ll be right back,” he says faintly as he steps away.
While Ximena and Sky keep up light conversation, the other three follow Jayce with their eyes. What had caught his attention is a woman – a very beautiful woman, dressed in a black dress adorned with golden embellishments.
“Is that…”
“Mel,” Caitlyn answers, anticipating Viktor’s question. “Jayce’s ex.”
“I thought you said they didn’t end on good terms,” Vi adds.
“That’s what he told me…” Catlyn replies, her eyes still glued to the pair.
Viktor barely hears what the two women are saying. His full attention is on the scene unfolding before them.
If things ended badly, it’s hardly obvious. There’s clear discomfort on Jayce’s part – Viktor recognizes it in the way he rubs the back of his neck – but even though he’s too far to hear a single word, the conductor sees no trace of hostility.
The conversation resumes around him, and Viktor does his best to keep up, but it’s hopeless. His gaze keeps drifting back to Jayce and the stunning Mel.
And when Jayce pulls her into a hug, Viktor is forced to look away. He grips his cane tightly, the world tilting slightly around him.
Even if he’d try to deny it to anyone who confronted him about it, what Viktor feels in that exact moment is jealousy. A sharp, searing jealousy that grips him by the ribs and echoes through his body louder than his illness ever could. That little moment with Ximena had almost made him forget that there’s nothing between him and Jayce. What’s going on between them is just simple attraction. Jayce isn’t his. He once belonged to someone else. And could very easily belong to her again.
If Jayce seems so at ease with Mel – enough to wrap her in his arms – had he lied to Caitlyn about how things ended? Was he hiding what he really felt? Was Viktor just someone to pass the time with? A distraction? Something to fill the emptiness?
If he were thinking clearly, he’d know the answer is no. He’d remember the way Jayce looked at him that night when everything truly shifted. The way he handled his leg with care. The way he said he was amazed by him. That he was brilliant. Strong.
But he’s not thinking clearly. As is often the case around Jayce, his emotions have taken over, silencing reason. And in this moment – watching Jayce and Mel, who look like the perfect match, a pair so effortlessly beautiful together it could only be read as fate – Viktor remembers why he had once sworn not to let himself fall too far.
They are a kind of simplicity Viktor knows he will never be able to offer.
***
The concert is nearly over. Viktor has been standing for a long time now, and the medication is starting to wear off. He feels weakness creeping into his bad leg, pain building in his back, and even breathing without his throat and lungs burning is becoming a challenge. And if that weren’t enough, the loudness of the instruments has left him with a throbbing headache.
He still gives everything he has. He’s conducted five of their six pieces standing, but for the last one, he allows himself to sit on his stool. He’s too afraid of collapsing and ruining his musicians’ performance.
Because even if he has struggles, the orchestra does not and plays beautifully. They know this is the last time they’ll ever perform these pieces and give everything they’ve got, without losing the joy in it. You can feel it in every note, every phrasing, every nuance, and it resonates through every person in the audience – and through Viktor most of all.
He hadn’t allowed himself to glance much at Jayce after he returned from his conversation with Mel – not even when Jayce had checked in on how he was feeling – but now, as they reach the final stretch of their last piece, Moonlight, he has no choice. Actually, everyone’s eyes will be on Jayce soon, because his solo is approaching.
His part comes at the very end of Moonlight, which means it’s Jayce who will close the concert. When Viktor gives him his cue and then lowers his arms to let him play at his own tempo, the focus of the entire rooms shifts to Jayce. And Viktor is no exception.
Even among a group of people dressed identically, Jayce shines through, and every note he plays lands with effortless precision. No one in the audience could ever guess how many hours of work it took to get here.
Everything around Viktor seems to fade, as if the entire auditorium dissolves and all that remains is Jayce, bathed in an aura as golden as his instrument. When Jayce nails the parts he’d so often stumbled over in recent weeks, Viktor doesn’t even realize he’s allowed himself to smile.
Jayce finishes the final note of his flawless solo and lets it hang in the air for a moment before lowering his trumpet. The crowd erupts into applause, but Jayce no longer looks out at them. He’s found Viktor’s gaze – who hadn’t left him for even a moment.
Jayce smiles at him, that signature smile that could make anyone dizzy, and Viktor forgets everything. The pain. The jealousy. In that moment, there is only him and Jayce.
And Viktor has never felt so proud.
Notes:
work is killing me but i'm back!
as always, thank you all for reading <3
Chapter Text
The ground in front of the university looks more like a starry sky than the sky itself; a light snow is falling, leaving large flakes on the grass already covered by a thin white later. The streetlamps cast a glow that makes the ground shimmer, almost blinding despite the surrounding darkness.
Jayce walks down the steps to the sidewalk with a light heart. He’s thanked his loved ones for coming and said his goodbyes, and now he’s alone again. But even though he’s on his own, he doesn’t feel the wave of loneliness he sometimes gets after leaving a gathering. Actually, he feels like he’s floating. The evening ended on such a high note that it feels like anything is possible.
So, when he sees Viktor about to get into his car, he heads toward him with the confidence of a man who’s had one drink too many, and flashes him a wide smile in greeting.
“I see you finally decided to take the car.”
Jayce doesn’t know what gives him the nerve to joke about the… incident so soon, and even in his little bubble of euphoria, he can tell Viktor is surprised too. But it’s too late to take it back, so Jayce doesn’t let his discomfort show.
“I’m learning not to push my limits,” Viktor replies, standing still on the other side of the car, the door open.
But while Jayce might carry the lightness of a drunk man, he’s far from it – and he notices right away that the faint, tight-lipped smile Viktor gives him is forced, and his tone lacks the usual warmth Jayce is used to.
“You’re not going to celebrate your first concert with the others?”
The thought had crossed Jayce’s mind. Especially when Caitlyn insisted he come spend the evening at the bar with her, Vi, Henry, and the others. But even though dinner with them had been a great time, he’s not about to give in again. Not when he has other plans in mind.
“Nah. It’s been a long day, I’m tired. I think I’m gonna call it an early night.”
“Right,” Viktor replies, clearly unconvinced.
Jayce would have expected Viktor to offer him a ride – after all, they live in the same place – but apparently, the conductor is going off script from anything Jayce was imagining.
“Do you think you could give me a lift?” Jayce asks, then quickly adds, as if to justify himself, “It’s just that with the cold and the snow, it’s not exactly the best weather for a walk.”
It’s not really a lie; even if it might make him seem like a wimp, he truly hates the snow. But in truth, he’s just using that excuse because he has an insatiable desire to spend time with Viktor. Even if it’s only for a few more minutes. On one hand, yes, he just wants to make sure the coldness between them has faded since Thursday, but on the other, he simply wants to end this already amazing day in the company of what really matters to him.
When Viktor hesitates before eventually agreeing, Jayce wonders if the cold really is still there after all. As he settles into the passenger seat, he feels himself slowly come down from his high, doubt and anticipation resurfacing.
“Turns out I was right, wasn’t I?” Jayce says as Viktor starts the car and pulls out onto the street.
“Hm?” The older man is focused on the road, weaving between other concertgoers heading home, and doesn’t spare Jayce a glance – nor his attention, from what the other can tell.
“The solo. It worked with the rest of the orchestra,” Jayce goes on, keeping his tone light in spite of it. “Guess it goes better without distractions, huh?”
Now that they’ve turned onto a side street, Viktor doesn’t need to focus quite as much and allows himself a glance toward Jayce.
“Ah. Yes, indeed,” he replies with a small smile as he looks up ahead again.
Jayce realizes he’s actually trying to get praise from Viktor – some kind of recognition, pride, anything. The moment he notices it, embarrassment settles in. Who does he think he is?
Besides, Viktor is sick, he reminds himself. It’s normal if he’s a bit out of it. If he’s exhausted. Jayce is sure this day has taken more out of him than he’s letting on. So, he blames the unusual coldness on Viktor’s rough patch, unwilling to truly face the possibility that it might be something else.
After a while, during which Jayce made a conscious effort not to fill the silence with some useless remarks – it’s surprisingly Viktor who breaks it with small talk.
“It was nice of your mother to come see you,” he says, hands firmly planted on the steering wheel.
“Yeah. She’s always there to support me,” Jayce replies, realizing just how lucky he is as the words leave his mouth.
He’d noticed that Viktor didn’t have any family there to see him. He knew his parents had passed away, but it still saddened him to witness it like this.
Still, Viktor’s tone isn’t sad or envious when he continues. “She’s really lovely. It was great to finally meet her, after seeing her in that picture for so long.”
At the mention of the mortifying conversation Ximena and Viktor had – on top of the cringey but still somewhat cute picture he keeps on his desk – Jayce’s cheeks turn crimson.
Jayce is about to apologize for his mother – even though she’d clearly embarrassed him more than she had Viktor – but the conductor’s expression suddenly shifts. The lightness that had come with talking about Ximena is replaced by the same coldness from just moments ago.
“It was nice, too, that many people came to see you,” Viktor says, his voice a little smaller now.
Jayce doesn’t get it at first, thinking maybe envy is starting to kick in – but then he realizes, just as Viktor speaks again.
“Caitlyn told me about Mel. It’s cool that you’re still friends with your ex.”
His tone makes it clear it’s anything but cool, and Jayce knows it, especially seeing how Viktor stares straight ahead, unmoving.
“Oh, uh, not really. We just had a talk. Cleared some things up. We hadn’t really, uh, had the chance to do that when we broke up.”
Jayce feels deeply uncomfortable talking about Mel with Viktor. He has nothing to hide; everything he’s saying is true. They did need a civil conversation, given how things had ended, and he’s genuinely relived to know the tension between them has finally settled.
But it still feels like he’s trying to justify himself. Like he’s rushing through the explanation just to change the subject. Because that expression on Viktor’s face is new, and not a good sign.
Viktor nods slowly. “Right.” He turns a corner. “She seems nice.”
His tone is still just as contradictory.
“Viktor…”
Jayce suddenly realizes what’s driving the other man: jealousy. If it weren’t for the frustration now starting to build in his own chest, he might almost find it endearing.
“I’d understand if you wanted to get back with her.”
“Wh- no!”
Viktor still keeps his eyes on the road while Jayce’s are locked on him, wide and helpless. And yet, something Jayce had been pushing down for hours now finally starts creeping back up. He can’t stop himself from muttering, “You’re one to talk, anyway.”
Only then does Viktor glance at him, just as confused and irritated.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Who even is Sky?” Jayce retorts dryly. “Why didn’t you ever tell me about her?”
Jayce’s anger only grows when Viktor laughs – not a real laugh, but the kind that stings, dry and sharp, like a condescending slap.
“Sky? She’s just my colleague. I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.”
“Then I don’t see why I should have to talk to you about Mel either.”
Viktor inhales sharply and taps nervously on the steering wheel but says nothing.
“Oh, so there is something with Sky.”
Viktor shoots him another look. “You’re serious?”
Jayce scoffs. “Yes, I’m serious!”
He feels infantilized – like what he’s feeling is ridiculous, like there’s something he’s failing to see that is supposed to be obvious.
“It’s not like that,” Viktor says.
Jayce hesitates for a second, instinctively wanting to keep arguing, to point out how friendly she seemed with him. But Viktor cuts him off.
“I don’t like women like that. At all.”
Jayce’s mouth snaps shut. “I’m such an idiot,” he tells himself, silently cursing himself for not knowing when to shut up.
“Not that it changes anything,” Viktor adds, quietly. “But still.”
“I’m sorry,” Jayce mumbles.
Viktor shrugs it off as he turns onto their street. As he begins to pull into a parking space, Jayce finds himself not wanting the conversation to end on that note. He needs to be sure he’s been clear.
“There’s nothing going on between me and Mel either.”
Viktor finishes parking, then finally looks at Jayce. His eyes are sharp, but the bitterness is gone. He nods, and Jayce hopes with everything in him that he believes him. Because right now, the only person he wants is him. And it’s becoming truer with every second that passes.
Jayce feels his heart pick up when Viktor smiles at him – a real smile, not a tight or forced one.
“I thought it was obvious.”
Jayce knows exactly what Viktor is referring to, and he can’t help but let out a soft laugh.
“It was, actually. I don’t know what got into me.”
Viktor chuckles lightly, and soon enough, both men burst into laughter.
Maybe they’re realizing they were jealous for nothing. Maybe, in this moment, they’re both starting to see just how deep they’ve fallen. At least, Jayce feels like it hits him full force.
Even if they still haven’t put words to what’s happening between them – or even talked about it at all – Jayce knows he won’t be able to pretend anymore. He can’t keep acting like he’s okay with their moments being nothing more than fleeting.
***
The days that followed felt like a long prison sentence, as if Jayce were patiently waiting for the day he could finally be freed from this never-ending feeling of need, of longing.
Once Viktor and him got home the night of the concert, they each walked through their own door – Jayce all too aware of Viktor’s hunched back and the heavy bags under his eyes to push anything further. And since then… nothing.
The following week was the last before the university’s Christmas break, and once his final exam was over, Jayce found himself swallowed by his loneliness. He still constantly feels like Viktor is near, just on the other side of the wall, but so out of reach.
He doesn’t want to be the one crawling back, begging for attention or for some kind of explanation of Viktor’s intentions. But the though of knocking on his door crossed Jayce’s mind more than once during those quiet days between the end of classes and Christmas.
Evenings were the worst. During the day, Jayce could distract himself by going to the gym, prepping for his next semester, or keeping busy with his trumpet – but at night, it wasn’t as easy.
No matter how much he numbed himself in front of the TV, he still felt the ache in every corner of his skin. Those were the moments he almost gave in.
The truth is, the more time passed, the more he doubted. The more he told himself it was momentary. He kept remembering how Viktor had seemed so detached the last time they’d been intimate… That’s why he stood firm on his decision.
Those were actually the moments that came back to him the most, the intimate ones. Because if he felt the longing full force in his heart, his body felt it too. Every time he tried to pass the time by giving in to his fleeting urges, it was only Viktor he pictured – the way he kissed him, the way he touched him.
And the frustration that followed only made everything worse.
***
Christmas Eve eventually came, bringing some action to the monotony of Jayce’s days.
If some years, he would celebrate with a large group of people – his parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents – this year, it’s just him and his mom. Caitlyn was invited, as always, but she’s spending the Holidays with her parents, who hadn’t had the chance to properly meet Vi yet.
So, Jayce braves the heavy snowfall to make his way to the bus stop that will take him to his mother’s house, silently grumbling his disdain for winter.
His beanie is pulled tightly over his head, his coat zipped all the way up, and the gift for his mother is tucked under his arm. He barely has enough freedom of movement to ring the doorbell when he finally reaches the front door.
His mother greets him with her usual smile, and a deep warmth floods through Jayce – both physically, from the contrast between the crisp outdoor air and the cozy heat of Ximena’s house, and emotionally, that feeling that always washes over him whenever his mother wraps him in a hug.
He sets his gift down under the tree, where two tightly wrapped presents are already waiting. The living room glows with that signature red-and-gold warmth that defines Christmas at the Talis household, though the space lacks the vibrance and energy it once had.
Jayce helps his mother finish dinner while they chat lightly. They reminisce about old memories, like how his father somehow managed to burn something every single year. It’s the only time of year when mentioning those they’ve lost doesn’t feel bittersweet, as if Christmas magic somehow softens the pain that lingers despite all these years.
Once dinner is over – which was even better than Jayce remembered, though he tells himself that every time – they settle into the living room. His mother hands him the first gift: a fairly large and heavy box, wrapped in red and green paper. Jayce opens it with eager curiosity, having no clue what it could be.
Peeling away the wrapping paper, the marking on the box reveal what he’s holding: a music stand, ready to be assembled and of perfect quality.
“You always say you’re not set up properly to practice your trumpet,” his mother says, a proud smile on her lips as she watches her son’s surprised expression. “After the success of your concert, you deserve the best equipment.”
Jayce is speechless at such a thoughtful gesture, barely managing to stammer out a thank you as she hands him the next package.
“The next part.”
Once the wrapping is torn open, Jayce discovers what his mother meant by “the next part.” It’s a new case for his trumpet. Made of burgundy leather, it contrasts sharply with the black synthetic fabric of his old one. Looking more closely, Jayce notices she had their family crest engraved on the side. He runs his fingers over it with a dumbfounded smile.
“It’s beautiful. Thank you so much, Mama.”
She smiles back at him, clearly pleased her gift had the intended effect.
“You’re welcome, my boy.”
It’s now Ximena’s turn to open her gift. Inside is a beautiful blue dress embroidered with delicate flowers. Then, a hand-written card, with a gift card for her favorite clothing store tucked inside. Her mother had mentioned once not having a nice dress to go out with her friends, so she is absolutely delighted. Jayce wasn’t sure what she liked – hence the gift card instead of several pieces – but he’s glad it pleases her. He watches her smile with the same feeling he had when she used to smile at one of his inventions as a child. Honest and radiant. People often say he takes after her.
***
Jayce doesn’t leave his mother’s house particularly late. With just the two of them, the place was quickly tidied up, and his mother grew tired rather early. A reminder that she’s getting older too.
The snow has settled, now matching how Jayce feels. It would be a lie to say that Jayce truly feels calm or happy, but he does feel lighter. Still, spending Christmas alone with his mother reminds him of her loneliness and isolation, and he knows she doesn’t handle it all that well either. That, too, is something they share.
Now that he’s outside, the sun has set, and the bus he takes home is completely empty, the thoughts of Viktor that he had managed to set aside resurface. He imagines him, too, spending Christmas Eve alone. Maybe he’s not even celebrating, just pretending it’s an ordinary Tuesday.
Jayce also imagines himself asking Viktor how his break went when the orchestra resumed in mid-January, only for Viktor to answer with some pre-rehearsed phrase and stick to small talk. Back to square one.
No. He can’t let that happen.
Jayce doesn’t give himself the time to think – or the time to hesitate – and gets off a stop early. He walks briskly toward a general store he knows is open despite the time and the date.
He paces through the aisles, frantically looking for something, anything. He skips the flowers, the fruitcakes, nearly grabs a bottle of wine before remembering that Viktor hardly drinks, and finally stops in front of the boxes of chocolates. Everyone likes those, right? You can’t go wrong with chocolates. Right?
Fuck it. He grabs the biggest, most expensive box to make up for the shitty gift, pays, and rushes out of the store.
Once he arrives in front of Viktor’s door, he’s nearly out of breath from how fast he walked. He doesn’t really know why he’s in such a rush, but figured the longer he waits, the more likely he is to chicken out.
He raises his hand to knock, hesitates for a moment, then freezes completely when he hears a sound from inside. Not just a sound – a melody. A violin.
Jayce had heard Viktor play before. Through the wall, just after he’d moved in. Before his illness got worst and he stopped.
This time, it’s a Christmas song Viktor is playing. Jayce instantly recognizes White Christmas, even if it’s a violin rendition he’s never heard before. He leans his back against the wall next to the door and closes his eyes, taking the moment to really listen to Viktor. Jayce knows the conductor would never offer him this kind of vulnerability, so he savours it.
Even with the sound muffled by the walls, Jayce can feel every emotion Viktor pours into his music. He’s doing exactly what he always tells them to do – playing each note with intention, letting the music take control rather than the other way around.
With a smile tugging at his lips, Jayce comes to two conclusions. First, Viktor does have some Christmas spirit in him, even if Jayce is certain he’d deny it. Second – and this is the one that truly soothes his heart – Viktor is getting better.
Jayce suddenly hears footsteps approaching and quickly opens his eyes, pushing himself away from the wall in a hurry. One of their neighbors – the guy from 3A, if he remembers correctly – walks past him, heading to his own apartment. Jayce offers him an awkward smile and lifts his hand again to knock on Viktor’s door.
No choice now. The moment has been broken, and Jayce is not about to stay leaning against the wall under his neighbor’s judging gaze. He must go through with what he came here to do.
It kills him to interrupt Viktor when he seems so deep in his music, but the embarrassment is too strong, even if the neighbor doesn’t really pay him much attention while fishing for his keys in his bag. Jayce knocks three times on Viktor’s door, and the music stops.
When Viktor opens the door, their neighbor has already slipped into his own apartment, leaving the two of them alone in the silence of the hallway.
“Hey. Merry Christmas,” Jayce begins, unsure what to say after being so abruptly pulled out of his trance.
“Merry Christmas,” Viktor replies, his gaze curious but not particularly surprise – like it doesn’t shock him to see Jayce standing at his door.
Viktor is, as always, leaning on his cane, but his posture is straighter, and the bags under his eyes have softened. Jayce notices it despite the dim lighting of their building’s corridor, and that reassures him greatly.
“Sorry, was I disturbing you with the violin? I didn’t realize how late it was.”
“What? Oh, no, not at all. I just got back, actually.”
Jayce wants to tell him how beautiful it was, but that would mean admitting he’s been there longer than he claims – and he can’t let himself do that.
“Did you just come back from celebrating Christmas with your family?” Viktor asks, honest curiosity in his voice.
“Yeah. You… doing anything?” Jayce asks in return, even though he already knows the answer.
“Oh, no. Just a quiet evening,” Viktor says with a small smile.
“Do you think… would you maybe…” Jayce hears himself stumbling over words and bitterly regrets not having had a few more glasses of wine at his mom’s. “Since neither of us is doing anything, would you like some company?”
The way the corners of Viktor’s mouth lift into a smile tells Jayce that his awkwardness hasn’t gone unnoticed, and his cheeks take on a red hue.
“Why not.”
Viktor steps aside to let Jayce in, and the latter can hardly believe it actually worked. Well, “worked” might be a bit of an overstatement; it’s not like he used any sort of persuasive tactic. If anything, it was quite the opposite.
“I would’ve thought you’d spend the Holidays with your family,” Viktor says as he settles into the couch, once Jayce has taken off his coat.
Jayce sits next to him, though at a respectable distance. “It was just my mom and me this year. We decided to just celebrate on Christmas Eve, like we used to when I was a kid.”
The young musician spots the grey blanket Viktor had draped over his shoulders the last time he fell asleep here – it’s neatly folded and resting over the back of the couch. He smiles finally at the memory of waking up to it, realizing then that Viktor cares more than he might let on.
“So, you’re alone on the 25th?” Viktor asks, pulling Jayce from his thoughts.
“Yeah, I am,” he replies, slipping back into a neutral expression.
Viktor hums and turns his head toward the large window overlooking the park. “Looks like our scientific side is catching up to us.”
Jayce might have gotten used to reading some of Viktor’s thoughts and expressions, but this time, he’s lost.
“What do you mean?”
“Music – it’s played with others, it connects everyone. It’s universal, for all. Science, on the other hand, is restrained. Solitary.” He turns back to Jayce. “We’re going to be alone on Christmas Day like scientists who spend so much time on their projects they forget the outside world.”
Jayce likes the way Viktor speaks, how every word feels carefully chosen. But, for once, he doesn’t agree.
“I don’t think science is solitary.”
“How so?” Viktor asks, turning fully toward Jayce, resting his elbow on the back of the couch and propping his head into his hand. Jayce has his full attention.
“Well… you can’t get anywhere without someone to give you a hand. Even if it’s just to make sure everything’s right. You need peer review. And you’ve got to share your discoveries with others – otherwise there’s not point. It’s not solitary at all, in the end.”
“Hm. I guess you’re right,” Viktor replies with a faint smile. He takes a deep breath as his gaze drifts back toward the window. “I suppose we don’t have an excuse then. It’s our own fault if we’re going to be alone on Christmas.”
Jayce sees the opportunity, feels the lifeline Viktor is handing him, and decides to grab it without thinking any further.
“We don’t have to be.”
Viktor smiles at him.
“No. We don’t.”
***
Jayce is back in his apartment. But it’s only for a short while – he’s just there to change into more comfortable clothes. Because yes, he’s going to spend the night at Viktor’s. He doesn’t care if it’s only because waking up alone on Christmas morning is sad, and that they both crave company; it thrills him just as much as if Viktor had asked him outright.
When he opens his bag to pack his toiletries, Jayce finds the box of chocolates. After their conversation – which had gone on for quite a while even after deciding Jayce would stay – he’d forgotten it existed. He tucks it under his arm; that way, it’ll be impossible to avoid giving it.
It’s impossible not to notice the ridiculousness of the situation when Jayce leaves his flat: he’s dressed in comfy clothes – sweatpants and a hoodie – backpack slung over his shoulder and a box of chocolates under his arm, walking three steps to get to Viktor’s door. He feels like he’s going over for a sleepover at his neighbor’s, just like he’d done once when he was a kid. Which isn’t far off from the truth, after all.
When Viktor opens the door again, he eyes the box with a raised brow. “What’s this for?”
“Oh, uh…” Jayce holds out the box as he steps inside. Viktor takes its, brows knitting slightly as he shuts the door with the tip of his foot.
“It’s for you,” Jayce continues.
“Is that so?” Viktor says, his amusement clearly audible.
“Yeah, uhm, I forgot to give it to you earlier. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed, but there wasn’t much opened…” His cheeks are fuming.
“That wasn’t necessary, you know that. But thank you,” Viktor says with a smile.
Jayce tries to steady his racing heartbeat – Viktor genuinely seems to appreciate the effort, even if the quality of the gift leaves something to be desired. He tells himself he’ll do better for his birthday. But when even is it?
“I’ll go get ready for bed,” Viktor says, heading toward the hallway and setting the gift on the counter as he passes.
“Alright. I’ll set up on the couch.”
Viktor stops mid-step and turns back to Jayce in one smooth movement of his cane.
“Jayce, do you really think I’m going to make you sleep on the couch? What’s the point of not wanting to be alone if we’re just going to wake up alone anyway?”
“I–” Jayce opens and closes his mouth, unable to string together a coherent sentence. Even if spending the night at Viktor’s hadn’t seemed so strange to him, he had never imagined being invited into his bed.
Viktor chuckles at Jayce’s reaction. “I think we’re past that, don’t you think?” He resumes his walk toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back.”
Jayce watches him leave with wide eyes, still trying to process what just happened. He makes his way to Viktor’s bedroom and pushes the door open hesitantly. He has never let himself enter this room before, but it’s exactly as he’d imagined: warm and busy, much like the rest of the apartment.
He sits on the edge of the bed, nervously fiddling with the strings of his hoodie while waiting for Viktor to return. When the latter does, wearing only an oversized buttoned-up that falls to his thighs and, Jayce suspects, boxers underneath, he still carries that same amused smile. Jayce swallows hard, captivated by Viktor’s beauty.
“Come on, get into bed.” Seeing Jayce still doesn’t move, Viktor continues. “I wasn’t insinuating anything, by the way. I don’t have any hidden expectations, if that’s what you were thinking.”
“N-no, I wasn’t thinking anything,” he replies, hastily pushing away the image he’d just had of slowly unbuttoning and taking off Viktor’s shirt.
Viktor slips in on the right side of the bed, and Jayce does the same on the opposite side. Just like on the couch, and almost prudish distance separates them. As he stares as the ceiling, Jayce has never wanted more to reach out and touch the one lying just centimeters away from him.
“Good night, Jayce.”
“Good night, Viktor.”
But Jayce isn’t tired. His eyes are wide open, unable to relax. A few minutes pass before Viktor shifts position, brushing Jayce’s arm as he does.
A shiver runs through the younger man’s body – not just because he’s desperate for contact, though that’s true, but because Viktor’s skin is as cold as ice.
“You’re freezing,” Jayce whispers before even realizing Viktor might already be asleep.
“I know,” Viktor, who is not asleep after all, replies in the same tone. “My body is always cold.”
For Jayce, it’s quite the opposite – he’s been told before that he’s like a living furnace.
He reacts faster than he can think, extending his arm and inviting Viktor to move closer.
“Come here.”
This time, it’s Viktor who looks at him in dumbfounded surprise. Jayce’s heart is racing as fast as his thoughts, wondering if he’s crossed a line. After a few seconds that feel like an eternity, Viktor slowly nods and scoots closer to Jayce. The trumpeter wraps an arm around the other’s shoulder, and Viktor rests his head on his chest.
Jayce almost thinks he’s fallen asleep and is dreaming. But the coolness of Viktor’s cheek pressed to his skin and the frame of his body fitting into the curve of his arm remind him this is real.
Viktor’s skin is indeed ice-cold, but the warmth spreading through Jayce’s chest makes him forget all about it.
“Thanks for being here.”
Jayce feels Viktor’s breath against his skin. He smiles and closes his eyes.
“Anytime,” he murmurs back, finally feeling sleep start to take over. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas, Jayce.”
Jayce drifts off not long after that, soothed by Viktor’s presence. It felt like floating, like resting on a cloud, his heart light yet impossibly full. He was over the moon, and that is how he let sleep take him.
Later, Jayce would remember this night as the first truly romantic moment between them – but in that instant, all he could think of was how completely and utterly his heart belonged to Viktor.
inmyroom (Guest) on Chapter 1 Mon 21 Apr 2025 10:56PM UTC
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perf3ct_st0rm on Chapter 1 Tue 22 Apr 2025 12:56AM UTC
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a (Guest) on Chapter 3 Thu 29 May 2025 10:05PM UTC
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perf3ct_st0rm on Chapter 3 Thu 29 May 2025 11:41PM UTC
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love 4u (Guest) on Chapter 8 Thu 29 May 2025 10:45PM UTC
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perf3ct_st0rm on Chapter 8 Thu 29 May 2025 11:42PM UTC
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NEEVER GIVE UP NEVER... (Guest) on Chapter 9 Thu 29 May 2025 10:56PM UTC
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perf3ct_st0rm on Chapter 9 Thu 29 May 2025 11:44PM UTC
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Goodmorningchat on Chapter 13 Mon 28 Jul 2025 08:18AM UTC
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