Chapter Text
It was numbing, the icy breeze that clung to his thin flesh.
A whirlwind of snow whipped around his head, squinting to see only a few inches before him. His arms were wrapped tightly around a young boy, shivering and sobbing, tears turning icy in the harsh wind. A small hand was clutching onto Viktor’s snow coat, shaking desperately for warmth.
All Viktor could do was murmur soft, calming affirmations. His eyes locked in one direction. Viktor lugged his feet through the snow plains, route pointing to his cottage, not far from the place he’d found the small child.
The boy had been sobbing into his mother’s side, begging for her to move, to wake up. Viktor had stumbled across the two figures. One whose hands were shaking, and the other with an unmoving body. Viktor had scooped him up in his arms after a quick check to her quiet pulse.
It was a morbid sight to never be forgotten. Nor could Viktor ever forget those hazel eyes, welling with tears, face wide with horror.
“Mommy,” the soft voice cried, body trembling fiercely in his arms. Viktor leaned close to the boy, whispering softly, “It’s okay, little one.” He felt the boy press his head into his chest, sobbing louder. “It’s okay, I’m here.”
He whispered it like a mantra, over and over again, as if his words could make the child’s mother's frozen chest warm. Viktor felt the boy’s head pressed against his chest, close enough he could hear his beating heart.
“You’re safe now,” Viktor breathed, his hand pressing gently against the child’s head. He glanced up, eyes squinting to see the familiar yellow glow of a porch light.
With pained movements, he carried himself through the thick snow. He felt his bones aching, roaring at him to collapse. Viktor picked up one foot before the other, his breathing harsh as he ushered himself inside.
Viktor closed the door with a loud slam, back pressing against the door as he gasped for breath. His breathing was shaky, sighing momentarily at the relief of the warmth of his cottage. His icy fingers defrosted in an instant, shuddering as he pried the boy from his chest.
Viktor lived away from the city, off the beaten path in a small secluded home in a remote village. Mostly Zaun refugees.
The light glowed a soft, comforting yellow. Candles on the wooden coffee table and the small kitchen counter that flooded the abode with the tranquil scent of cinnamon.
Viktor rushed over to the quaint dark oak couch he owned. He arranged the boy on the dark crimson sofa, propping his head up on a matching colored pillow.
“Momma,” The boy whispered again, and Viktor’s eyes softened at the ill boy, the tip of his nose red and his ears a similar color.
The sight made Viktor frown. With quick hands, he took off the boy's wet, icy hat and boots. He brushed his dark brown hair away from his face, tucking it behind his red ear.
“I’ll be back,” He murmured, unsure if the boy was conscious enough to hear him. “I’ll grab a warm cloth and something hot to drink.” He spoke anyway, running his hand through his hair.
Viktor pulled himself to his feet, wincing without the aid of his cane. Viktor knew his accommodations were of less importance than the dying boy on his sofa. Of course, regardless of the stabbing pain spreading across his body.
Logic raged at him, informing him that this single act certainly would cause his bones to age by a minimum of two years prior their time. But his heart fought against his strained mind and exhausted build.
This child was in need. And Viktor was able to provide.
With a breathy step, he pulled himself into the kitchen. Viktor’s hand instantly hit the tap, pulling it down to the warmest setting. The water splashed in the silver basin. Viktor reached in a drawer and placed a hand towel to the side for later.
Viktor twirled around, rummaging through the wooden cabinets for a mug. His hand wrapped around a cream-colored cup with a small pine tree decal. He nodded, it would suffice.
Viktor wasn’t adept at handling children. There was no manual for children, and if there was, there wasn’t enough time for Viktor to read it.
Viktor pursed his lips, reaching up again, this time grabbing a packet of hot chocolate. He deftly poured it into the cup, coughing as brown powder puffed back into his face. Viktor squints his eyes, waving a hand before his narrowed eyes. He then maneuvers around, sticking his hand under the scalding faucet. With a small hiss, he jerks his hand back. Grimacing, he takes a hand towel and soaks it into the running water, gently placing it to the side for it to cool off.
Ignoring the sound of water drip from towel to hardwood floor, Viktor dives to the fridge. He reaches for the cold handles, taking a carton of milk and pouring it to the brim.
His mind spins, worry eating him alive. What happens if the boy perishes? Is his main thought. The second being, How do I care for a child?
He stirs the powder around the mug, making the milk turn to a light brown. Viktor reaches to the side of his kitchen, placing the mug into the microwave. Cautious not to burn the child, he sets it for one minute. Viktor sighs, straightening his back with a shake of his head.
He ignores the pained burn in his leg and back, staring past the frosting window, seeing the storm roaring by them. Viktor impatiently taps his finger on the cool counter, furrowing his brows before the alarm starts beeping rapidly.
His head sharply turns to the microwave, bending down to pull the mug from the glass plate. Viktor holds it tightly with his hand, walking to reach for the hand towel, draping it over his wrist. He staggers to his cane that was resting against the wall.
Viktor sneers at the pain deriving from his back and leg. He still didn’t have time for a break. His feet, one before the other, start across his kitchen into the open parlor. To his delight, he sees the boy watching him closely.
His hazel eyes were locked onto him so fiercely Viktor had to pause for a moment. He then remembered himself, taking another step forward to bend down by the child’s side. “I’m going to help you sit up,” He whispered, placing a hand on the boy’s arm. “Alright?”
He doesn’t wait for a nod. The child didn’t seem responsive enough to even open his eyes fully, but Viktor was happy he managed to crack them open.
Any signs of life were good ones.
Viktor helps the boy up, and he doesn’t seem to have any qualms with it. The child only collapses into his touch, looking at him sullenly.
“Here, I didn’t know what you wanted to drink, dear.” Viktor says, uncharacteristically soft. The boy's mother had just died, so it didn't seem logical for Viktor to speak stone hearted.
The boy, eyes dilated, reaches for the mug. He places it to his lips, and slurps with a small ounce of joy. It made Viktor crack a smile, taking the warm hand towel and gently placing it to the side of his neck.
Viktor brushes the snow from his hair, removing the reminisce of the frosted tears from his eyelashes. “Is it too hot?” He asks, eyes darting to meet the boy’s face. In response, the boy shakes his head, a chocolate mustache lining his upper lip. Viktor warily smiles, wiping the milk from the boy's upper lip.
Despite being in a snowstorm, the boy turns red. He grumbles, shifting his weight before his shade returns to a healthy color. The red on his nose and ears were gone, and the blue shade of his fingers disappeared.
“Mister, mister, who are you? I don’t even know your name.” The boy said, his face turning back to a neutral expression, full of curiosity. He shuffles himself up, using just enough strength to turn his head to sip the hot chocolate.
Viktor smiled, adjusting himself to sit on the floor properly. “It’s Viktor.” He said, tilting his head to the side. “And you, dear?”
“Jayce,” The boy bounced upright with a little too much eagerness. Viktor reached his hands out, ready to catch the boy if he falls from any sort of dizzying spell. The boy fairs just fine, though looking at Viktor’s hands curiously. “I’m Jayce Talis.”
Viktor grinned at the boy’s keenness, raising his hand to gently pat the boy’s head. “It’s late, you’re probably freezing still. Let me help you bathe, then we can get you set up for bed, shall we?”
The boy seemed to have no objections.
Jayce swung his feet over the side of the sofa, making Viktor’s eyes widen from shock. “Careful!” Viktor yelped, leaning forward in case he’d have to catch the boy from tumbling. However, Jayce, continuously seemed to be just fine.
What a strong constitutional makeup, Viktor muses to himself. Jayce had nearly frozen to death, yet he sprung up quickly. But Jayce might be experiencing delayed reactions, and Viktor won't rule that out either.
“Bath?” Jayce had echoed, tilting his head. Viktor slowly moved his arms away, cautiously watching the child. “Yes,” He breathed, hands now resting at his side. “Finish your hot chocolate, I’ll draw the bath.”
“Draw the bath?” Jayce queries again. Viktor nods, pulling himself to his feet. “Yes, my curious child.” Jayce leans forward at Viktor’s words. “It’s an expression. Like to go and run the water.” Viktor clarifies, only seeing the boy’s face flicker into more confusion. He sighed, “Bring your hot chocolate, I’ll show you what I mean. Can you stand?”
The boy glanced down at his feet before glancing back up at Viktor. “I… I tink I can.” Jayce muttered, glancing at his feet. Viktor chuckles, “You think.”
Jayce pouts, “That’s what I said.”
Viktor merely smiles before he remembers a morbid fact, one making his face fill with dread.
His smile crumbled in an instant, his eyes softening woefully at the child’s wide, bright eyes.
Viktor didn’t know how to break the news to this boy of his mother’s fate. Yet a part of him feels like the boy already knew, which begs the question: Why’s the boy acting so calm?
Viktor’s eyes lock with the hazel pair, staring deeply at him like he were to turn to dust. The terrified, glossy pair of eyes shattered him of any second thoughts. He reached a hand out, gently holding Jayce’s.
“Let’s go,” Viktor whispered, tugging a smile back onto his face. Jayce’s eyes widened even further, “Thank you for saving me.” The boy said with adoration. Viktor only smiled, nodding, not knowing there was more lying under his words.
There was much more. A sickness had already begun brewing. And Viktor was none the wiser.
—
The storm was still raging outside, and there seemed to be no stopping it. Two days had passed, and no enforcers from the city had arrived to whisk Jayce away.
Jayce seems to be basking in Viktor’s presence, though he didn’t realize being taken was even an option. It wasn’t news Viktor would break to him anyway. Jayce happily followed him around their flat, melting into his touch as he massaged his head, gleefully grinning as Viktor placed a plate of noodles before him.
Caring for this child was a brilliant experience, he found himself loving this child dearly. Yet, he knew he was in no way equipped with the knowledge of raising a child.
He was distressing himself on all the ways he could easily psychologically harm this boy. Viktor, naturally, didn’t intend to, as most wouldn’t. He’d do the best he could, but he knew perfection was theory, never a practice.
Yet Viktor knew he designed half of the machines in Piltover, so raising a child must be simple? Or somewhat simple? He could figure it out?
Wrong. Utterly wrong.
Viktor found himself overly cautious with the boy, yet switching between treating him like an adult, then a five-year-old. Viktor had found out the boy was eleven, so his original guess wasn’t far off. Still, no age for Viktor to act as if Jayce were five or a full-grown man.
Jayce was already quite well off for an eleven-year-old. Around four five, Viktor had to guess. Another thing Viktor knew he had to get a handle on was cooking.
Jayce hadn’t complained in the two days he’d been with him, thankfully. Viktor knew his cooking was only barely edible, not something a child should be eating.
His food was sometimes so burnt, Viktor swears it could be considered second hand smoking. And worst of all, Viktor had only given the boy seven meals. Seven and Viktor were sure he’d poisoned Jayce.
The thought of feeding Jayce his cooking for even a month was petrifying. Viktor's mind could easily conjure up a clear sight of Jayce ill from an undercooked chicken.
“At least I’m giving you a somewhat decent immune system,” Viktor grumbles one afternoon, forking a piece of charred sweet potato into his mouth. Viktor’s eyes dart up as Jayce roughly stabs a piece of chicken that was extremely dry. Better than undercooked.
Jayce stares at him with vigor, grumbling, “You’re cooking is great.” Jayce said, looking as if Viktor had insulted him.
Viktor stared, body tense, to Jayce’s sudden aggravation. That morning, they’d done nothing that would spark fury in Jayce.
Viktor wondered if he should get Jayce psychologically analyzed. One minute, he was brimming with light. Next, Jayce could be glowering under a cloud of dark embers.
“Thank you, dear.” He muttered, shaking his head. “You give me too much credit. I’d say the chicken is too dry.”
Jayce stared at him pointedly, looking frustrated. “Everything you do is perfect,” Jayce said under his breath, though loud enough for Viktor to hear. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not. Still, he arched his brow, feeling flattered, yet intrigued.
“That’s sweet, dear. But don’t forget to be honest with yourself sporadically.” He jests before adding with a more stern expression, “Honesty is important.”
Jayce stared at him intently. He bobs his head aggressively, nodding. “I’ve got it.” He said thoughtfully, like he learned a deep life lesson. Honesty was a good lesson to have.
“Smart boy,” Viktor smiles, reaching for his glass of water. “How are you doing? You surprisingly didn’t get a cold.” He said, which seemed to upset Jayce slightly. He frowned angrily, but it only looked like a cute pout, and Viktor did his best not to smile fondly. “I’m not weak!” Jayce huffed, dropping his fork to cross his arms.
Viktor stared, amused. “I never said you were dear, it’s lovely that your immune system is so resilient. Even before my cooking.” He adds chuckling, swirling his water around in the clear glass. His jest didn’t land, somehow seemed to be more off-putting to Jayce than Viktor’s point to Jayce lacking an illness.
“Your – cooking – is – perfect.” Jayce growls, face filling with red anger. He dragged out each word, adding building emphasis to every syllable.
Viktor looks uneasy. He really did know nothing about children.
“All right, dear.” Viktor sighs, shaking his head. He was unable to hide his weak smile from Jayce’s watchful gaze. “If I say my cooking is excellent, will you promise to eat all your vegetables?” He bargains. Probably, bargaining wasn’t something to teach a child. He would digress.
“Yes,” said Jayce, a little too swiftly.
Viktor huffed, taking a hasty gulp of water to wet his dry throat. “My cooking is decent,” He said finally, with a stretched out sigh. Once done, he raised a skeptical eye pointed to Jayce.
His faux statement for his cooking seemed to do the job. Jayce reached down for his abandoned fork, fist gripping it tight enough his knuckles turned white. With a gruff noise, Jayce shoved a forkful of peas into his mouth with his eyes glued to Viktor’s face. “Yes,” Jayce said again, mid-chew, but looking pleased.
Viktor smiled gently at the boy, sudden words creeping up in the back of his throat. He stared at Jayce’s face, too absorbed in his meal for Viktor to speak anything grievous.
Because, when was a good time to announce your beloved mother had died?
The news of his parents dying in the collieries had been announced to him with the most gentle care. An enforcer, surprisingly enough, finding him by the edge of Undercity, sitting by the local, polluted lake. Children playing, swimming, bonding as an enforcer approached with a small box in hand.
In that box was a small bag of coins. Compensation. It had been an enforcer who hand’t secured the stanchions, leading to over a hundred miners perishing. But no mater who said it, their tone, their words, nothing could make it feel any better.
Ever since he’d hauled Jayce from the snowstorm, he’d struggled to find a moment to inform the boy of his mother.
He didn’t know if he was the right person to say it, if he could manage a tone poignant and respectful enough, or what words to even say. Viktor hadn’t known Jayce’s mother. He didn’t have any words beside the knowledge that she’d raised a lovely eleven-year-old.
The boy’s mother, probably still lying in the snow.
Viktor’s eyes snapped shut, his right hand running through his hair with a silent hiss. He dragged his hand to his brows, rubbing the corner of his eyes. His mind flashed horrific ideas, seeing the tan woman laying in crisp white snow. He’s seen cadavers before, he was an inventor, a scientist. But his mind only created the most horrific visuals, the woman’s face petrified, eyes opened and mouth parted. Rotting flesh that were to crumble from the icy temperature.
It was sights he’d seen back in the Undercity so commonly. Sights he’d specifically fled from. And Viktor didn’t want to withhold any truths from Jayce, no. Even if it was the mention of the iced over cadaver, presumably taken, shredded as a meal for the wolves.
Viktor was going to hurl.
His eyes snapped open again and both of his hands clutched his head. Viktor’s breathing was shaking, so were his hands. He did what one of his professors had told him, and he took slow breaths, focusing on his plate.
He stared at the glossy finish to the white ceramic, the lantern hanging above their heads illuminating the uneven surface of the aged dish. Viktor felt his breathing slow. With a gentle movement, he glances up to see Jayce. His back straightened at the sight, feeling somewhat startled from the boy’s attention.
Jayce watched him intently, hazel eyes darting over every in of his body. His lips were pursed, and his eyes were filled with worry. Viktor instantly felt terribly guilty, “I’m sorry,” He whispered. “I don’t… I didn’t know when a good time to tell you this was.”
Jayce’s little eyes began to sink with horror. Eyes glossing over as if he were being drowned. His lips slightly part, appearing if he were stammering, but no words escaped his throat.
Viktor instantly felt a lance pierce his heart at Jayce’s wilting face. He slinks from his seat, walking around the table to wrap his arms around Jayce. Viktor felt Jayce shake, his arms clinging to Viktor as if he were the new source of oxygen.
“Do you know what I’m going to say?” He asks quietly, feeling Jayce’s small hands grip tighter over his breast pocket. Jayce buries his head in Viktor’s warmth, and he heard a sniffle from under him. “Yes,” Jayce stammers, voice filled with tears.
Viktor only felt himself crumble harder, Jayce’s once smiling face had fallen too quickly for Viktor to handle. Jayce whispers again, this time his voice was more unsteady. “Are you going to… give me away?”
What?
Viktor paused, pulling away from Jayce slightly. Jayce looked longing from the touch, and Viktor bent down slightly to meet him at his eye level. “No, no dear.” Viktor said sullenly, “No, never. I promise.”
He’d promised, though he was uncertain if it was one he could keep. But he was certain it were words he couldn’t take back.
“It’s about your mother.” Viktor says, his lips curling down. “I’m sorry, dear, but she’s—”
“Dead.” Jayce cuts off, wiping the tears from his eyes. “She’s dead, I know.” He mutters sadly, and all Viktor could do was throw his arms protectively around Jayce. “She told me a goodbye,” Jayce said, his voice wavering, though slightly steadying. “My momma, my mother, said it was a permanent goodbye.”
Viktor felt a tear fall from his face, closing his eyes as he felt Jayce’s brown hair under his nose. Viktor sniffs softly, “I’m sorry, love, I’m so sorry.” Jayce must’ve heard his sob. Jayce instantly gripped Viktor’s sleeves and pulled him down, causing Viktor to stare Jayce dead in the eyes.
The child wasn’t crying. Viktor figures he’d already managed over the grief, or perhaps something in the snow did make him ill. He didn’t have time to think about it before Jayce’s small hand raises, wiping the tears from under his eyes. His small hand moved so gently, Viktor only closed his eye instinctively.
Addled, he forms a weak gesture at Jayce, one to feign braveness, but he knew Jayce could see right through it. Viktor reaches up for the child's hand. He watched as Jayce’s big eyes watch him intently, his lips into such a straight line they’d become pale. Jayce looked frustrated. “Don’t cry,” Jayce spoke, begged, one could even say.
“Shh,” Viktor hummed to him, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He apologized, a faint smile crossing his face. “I’m sorry about your mother, Jayce.”
“It’s okay,” Jayce whispers, his eyes dilating slightly. “I have you now, you’re better than a parent…”
“I’m better than a parent?” Viktor questioned, taking a small step back from Jayce. His hand reached up to grip the table as to release the weight on his bad leg. Viktor wipes his tears one more time, though Jayce had done a phenomenal, yet surprising, job.
Viktor watched Jayce nod, eyes still locked onto him intently. Now Jayce only stared at him with a familiar fondness, one Viktor could easily replicate back. “Yes,” Jayce said, voice solid in stone. “Much more than a parent. Much more.”
Viktor smiled, tilting his head softly. “I’ll be whatever you want, love.” He replied to the child, whose eyes begun to shimmer with color. “Anything for you, my dear.”
“Thank you, Viktor.” Jayce breathed quickly, with enough warmth to fill the loveless. Viktor’s eyes softened, as if his eyes had just adjusted from sun to shade.
Viktor knew he couldn’t fail this child. No, not after how he could marvel at him. Hazel eyes so wide they could fill a room, voice so bright that darkness would flee. This child looked up to him like he were his role model. It wasn’t something Viktor could botch.
Viktor had to be there. Hold his hand when he needed it, console him when he wept, propitiate him when he was shaken. After what he’d seen happen to his mother, his soft cries to her, Viktor had to do it all .
Viktor needed to be there for Jayce. He had to be there.
“If not a parent, what do you want me to be? I could use a base point.” Viktor said, arching a brow at Jayce sudden wry face. Curiously, the boy’s eyes snap to the floor, perhaps for the first time. “Nothing,” Jayce murmured, eliciting a chuckle from Viktor. “We can figure that out later,” He said, reaching to run a hand through Jayce’s hair to smoothen out the knots.
Viktor reaches for Jayce’s plate, grabbing it firmly in his hands before he starts to the sink. He deposits Jayce’s plate in the basin before he turns for his own. Before he could take a step, he sees under foot. His eyes gaze up at him like they always did. In his hand, was his cleaned off plate.
“Thank you, dear,” Viktor smiled, taking the plate from his hand. He places it in the basin as well, turning the tap before water comes rushing out. From below him, he heard Jayce chirp, “One day, I’ll be really big and strong for you. I’ll help you with everything!”
“I have no uncertainties you will be stronger,” Viktor chuckles, reaching for a sponge. “You’re already plenty strong, Jayce. You don’t have to change a thing. Need I remind you that you survived the snowstorm.”
He squirts blue translucent dish soap onto the white sponge before he presses his weight against the counter. He starts scrubbing the surface of the plate, hearing Jayce prattle on from under him.
“I’ll be tall too. I can do all the chores for you.” Jayce said, his small hands gripping onto Viktor’s pants as he pointed at the high counter. “Would you like that, Viktor?” The boy asks as Viktor places one washed plate into the drying rack.
“Anything you do would be priceless, dear.” Viktor replies, noting he was reverting into speaking like Jayce was five. He cleared his throat, glancing down at Jayce. “Were you this helpful for your mother?” Viktor asks, and to his surprise, Jayce shakes his head no.
Viktor chuckles, amused at Jayce’s hasty, yet honest response.
Jayce’s hands release Viktor’s pants, crossing his arms as he pouts. “I told you!” Jayce puffed out his cheeks, “You’re not my parent! You’re special.”
Viktor could only smile, looking back to the dishes. “I’m glad I could be anything to you, Jayce.” He could feel Jayce’s crossed arms return to his legs, latch onto his pants with furthering tightness. “All for me,” Jayce muttered, burrowing his head into Viktor’s hip. Viktor smiled, his face relaxing.
“All for you,” Viktor whispered.
—
A solid week had passed, and so had the snowstorm.
Viktor had gotten accustomed to waking up with a wild child in his home. Viktor had made his guest bedroom into a proper bedroom for Jayce. He fixed an old desk in his worship, making it double as a clothing drawer, and a practical desk.
Jayce had a full-sized bed. Grey sheets and a navy blue duvet, similar to his, only a bit darker and more hues of purple. Beside his bed were two nightstands, one with an analog clock and the other with a reading lamp. Across the bed was a closet with a sliding, mirror-door that revealed rows of empty hangers.
Viktor needed to buy Jayce new clothing, soon. At any point, it could be considered child neglect. Jests aside, Jayce seemed perfectly fine with donning Viktor’s clothing. However, he wasn’t sure what to feel about an eleven-year-old being able to fit his sweaters, only being a tad big baggy, he could currently wear at twenty-eight.
Viktor did wonder when the enforcers would sneak by and swipe Jayce from him. He made a mental note, before that happens, buy Jayce some clothing. It was obvious, and Viktor was in no way his legal guardian, and it was possible the city assumed Jayce had died amongst the snow if his mother’s corpse had been found.
It was equally possible that his mother didn’t have any signs of traveling with a child. Viktor hadn’t searched her body for any positions like smaller gloves, extra pairs of socks, toiletries, and essentials for two, etcetera.
Viktor knew he had to write a letter to the city. But he just hoped he wouldn’t get too attached to the child, and Jayce wouldn’t have grown too fond to him when the enforcers arrived. It would make a rather poignant goodbye.
But currently, Jayce was still here. He still had the responsibility of educating the boy, feeding him, caring for him. At first, he was concerned with the lack of engrossment for Jayce, which is why he has begun homeschooling him.
When Viktor asked if Jayce would like to take classes, his response was an immediate, icy, “No,” before Viktor calmly suggested he could be homeschooled by him. And suddenly, school then was appealing to Jayce.
When Viktor wasn’t teaching Jayce, remarkably, Jayce had appeared completely fulfilled with watching Viktor work in his small workshop.
In the cottage, there was an extra room that was to be a garage. Viktor had sealed the garage door and instead decided it on being a laboratory of some sorts.
“Jayce, be careful,” He said, eyes flickering away from his desk and onto the boy who seemed intent on climbing a stack of boxes. Each full of worn mechanical parts he was meant to refurbish. “Please don’t climb those,” Viktor said, watching Jayce’s head turn to him, grinning cheekily.
“Jayce, get down now.” Viktor said sternly after kind words had failed. “Tell me you won’t climb those boxes.” Viktor glared as Jayce’s grin started to wilt. He wasn’t great with reprimanding. Jayce was too precious to deny him anything, but Viktor found it easy to discipline Jayce whenever it related to his safety.
“I won’t climb the boxes,” Jayce grumbled, slinking off the first box he’d landed on. Viktor gives him a satisfied nod, “Thank you, dear.” He ushered, looking back to the nightmarish letter before his face.
Viktor peered over the parchment, pen in hand. He felt as if a rock had landed on his head, leaving him dumbfounded. What do I even say? Viktor thinks to himself, brows furrowing at the empty sheet of paper. He turns back to Jayce, seeing him messing with a piece of discarded trash from his bin. It wasn’t dangerous, so he let him continue. Viktor sighed, pressing pen to paper. Viktor addresses the letter, before writing the entire body.
To the Council,
It is of my greatest despondency that I am to report an incident in the snowstorm occurring this past week. I have found a child. A male, eleven years of aged, named Jayce Talis. I found him amongst the snow on a jaunt to the shops. He was half dead but is currently doing soundly. His mother hadn’t been so lucky. Regrettably, Mrs. Talis has passed away, but the boy has returned to my home to recover.
Similarly, I’ve grown quite fond, but I'm not equipped to take care of a child. I’ll keep him safe for as long as it takes for this letter to arrive. But I am awaiting legal commands.
Signed, Viktor
Former Inventor at the Academy of Piltover
Viktor stared at his signature, his “title.” It certainly was one that he deserved, but it was intense to write out. He felt as if he was acting pompous. Viktor had resigned researching at the Academy as he began to disagree with their tactics with handling the Undercity.
His payments from the Academy were enough for him to live happily, so he didn’t return to the Undercity, but he still felt sour against the pollution being bled into their ventilations.
Now he meddles with some inventions at his home lab, occasionally making a breakthrough and sending it to his contacts in the Undercity. One of his newer inventions was a comfortable mask to prevent harmful fumes.
The Academy had been livid about it, disgruntled they hadn’t gotten a penny from his efforts. Though, with the Undercity on your side, the Council decided to let this slide.
“What are you working on, Viktor?” A voice came from under him, making him jump slightly from shock. He turned his head to Jayce, smiling widely up at him. “Nothing, dear,” He said quietly. Jayce looked unconvinced, arching a brow suspiciously at him.
“Would you like to accompany me to town?” Viktor coughs out, distracting the boy of any former curiosity. Jayce’s eyes readily shone with excitement. “Yes! Yes, of course.” He said eagerly, “I’ll get my shoes.” Jayce perked up, spinning around to the door.
“And a coat,” Viktor called to the fleeting figure. “It’s still cold out there, love.”
“Mhm!” The boy hummed, popping his head back out the door frame. “I’ll go grab it.” He said before his head disappeared back into the adjoining room.
Viktor smiled, rising to his feet with the aid of his cane. He folded the letter and placed it into an envelope. Reaching across his desk, Viktor poured red wax over the seal and stamped it shut.
The stamp was of a hibiscus flower, not a family crest. He didn’t have a family crest, no trenchers did. Viktor shuffled it into his pocket before walking out to meet Jayce in the corridor.
Jayce stood there, rocking back on the balls of his feet, a wide toothy grin shining at him. “We’re going to the local market to pick up some groceries. We need to buy you some clothing as well.” And we need to put this letter in a mailbox. But Viktor decided to keep that to himself.
“The market.” Jayce echoed, and Viktor nods. “There's a farmers market on the way. Perhaps we can buy you a honey-laden lollipop.” He offers, which makes Jayce bound forward, grasping his hand. “Let’s go, let’s go!” Jayce shouts, not tugging at his hand, but jumping up and down. Viktor was thankful Jayce hadn’t tugged, or else he was certain he would’ve fallen over.
“I’m going,” He said, giggling at the boy’s impatience. “Could you grab me my coat? It’s on the rack where you found yours.” Viktor said, starting to shuffle to a wooden bowl where he kept his keys.
“I got it,” Jayce said, darting to the rack, returning only seconds later with his dark green coat in hand. Viktor slipped his arms through, zipping it to his chest. “Thank you, love.” Viktor smiled, staring to the door with Jayce bounding after him.
He held the keys in his hand, shutting the doors with the jangling keys. Viktor shook the handle and after insuring it was locked, he turned to the path.
“The snow melted quickly,” Viktor muses, seeing small patches of dead grass from under the thick layers of ice. The path before them had thankfully thawed out enough. The bright sun beamed down and reflected on the glittering snow. Viktor began to walk, hearing Jayce hum a tune as he trailed behind.
“What are we buying?” Jayce asks, his hand reaching for Viktor’s. Jayce’s small hand closely grasps Viktor’s, leaning close into his touch. Viktor smiled, melting into the boy’s warmth.
“Mostly food,” Viktor replied, eyes spotting a small local farmers market. “We need to restock for the next week.” He said feeling Jayce squeeze his hand. “One day, I can go shopping by myself for you,” The boy said eagerly. “Then you will never have to go out again!”
Viktor glanced down, chucking. “I don’t mind going out,” He replied, “Although, It’s not my preference of my selected activity.”
“I’ll be with you. You don’t have to go see anyone else anymore.” Jayce said, eyes shining with something new. Viktor stared for a moment before he softened at Jayce’s adorable face. “I’ll do whatever you wish, love.” He said, squeezing Jayce's hand, making him giggle.
Viktor and Jayce strode together into the market. The storm had just passed and everyone in the small village was out restocking. Jayce clung close to Viktor, but glaring as anyone bypassed them or smiled at Viktor. It was adorable, Jayce’s possessiveness. Yet, Viktor knew it was something to work on, but he need not do that now.
“You can get your lollipop over there, Jayce.” Viktor said, moving under an awning of a fruit stand. He grabbed a nearby bag and began to put a few peaches and strawberries into the bag. He then reached into his pocket to fish out a few coins for the child. “Here,” He said, placing the coins into Jayce’s hand.
The boy glowed with excitement. He grabbed the coins, “Thank you,” He said eagerly before jogging towards the stand. Viktor watches Jayce safely stand before the shopkeeper, handing him a lollipop and exchanging it for coins.
Viktor moves his head back, handing the stall owner a few coins for the peaches. “I appreciate it,” He said, nodding politely. “Erm, do you know where I can buy children's apparel?” Viktor utters awkwardly, but the owner didn’t mind. She nods, “the main seller from this village moved back to the Undercity. I’d guess it’s hard for you to trek down to the city right now—”
Viktor didn’t need to follow her eyes to know she was staring at his cane. It was backhanded, but he knew her heart was in the right palace. “Some are doing deliveries. They charge more than an arm and a leg, especially after the snow. Can’t even covenant with your entire soul.” Money wasn’t an issue for Viktor.
He nods thankfully, sliding her an extra coin with a polite nod. The owner smiles back at him before turning to the next customer.
Viktor starts moving to Jayce, who was ripping the plastic wrapper off the lollipop shaped in a honey dipper. “Clothing isn’t in this market, but we can figure that out later,” Viktor said, noting Jayce didn’t seem to care one bit, only tossing the wrapper of the lollipop into the rubbish. “Yes,” Jayce muttered, no thoughts behind his eyes.
Jayce stuck the lollipop into his mouth, grinning widely. Viktor chuckled, eyes softening despite the cold, breezy air. “Do you have these a lot?” Viktor asks Jayce, running a hand through the boy’s hair.
“No,” Jayce muffled out, mouth full of candy. “So delicious.” Jayce said before reaching for the bag of peaches. Viktor watched curiously, raising his hand higher as to keep the bag from his reach. Jayce blinked, as if betrayed. He stops his foot down, promptly frowning at him, “Give it to me.” Jayce whined, “I want to carry it for you.”
“It’s fine, love,” Viktor smiled, eyes softening at Jayce’s plea. “I won't crumble from holding a bag of peaches.” But Jayce didn’t seem convinced. “Once I’m taller than you, you won't be able to refuse me.” Jayce said with a smile, though it sends an odd wave of unease.
If Jayce’s words had come from an adult, Viktor would’ve shaken a little. But instead of a full-grown man, only a small boy had said it with the best of intentions. Viktor shakes his head, laughing softly. “So helpful,” Viktor said. “Come on, I’ve got some fruit now. Anything other fruit you’d like?”
Jayce stares at him thoughtfully, stepping closer to Viktor’s legs to avoid the bustling crowd. Viktor hadn’t really thought about it closely, but for an eleven-year-old, Jayce was quite tall. Seeing him slumping against him, clutching his hand, perplexed Viktor slightly.
Weren’t most boys entering a more haughty section of their lives? He’d wondered, lost in thought, as he stared at Jayce’s head. Jayce was around four foot five, whereas Viktor was only five ten. “You’re going to be taller just in a couple of years, I can tell,” Viktor muttered, breaking himself from his trance.
“Am I?” The boy beamed brightly. Viktor sighed with a smile, “You’re already up to my elbows, does that excite you?” He questions playfully, watching Jayce nod his head aggressively.
“Well, before you get taller,” He starts, beginning to walk to the next stand, clutching his cane tightly through the snowy path. To walk with his cane, he had to let go of Jayce’s hand, which the boy was very apparently irked by. “Is there any other fruit you’d like? Most of the fruit lingers around this section. We can always come back.”
Viktor watches Jayce stare at his hand that was now wrapped around his cane. He shoves the lollipop into his mouth, shrugging. “Anything,” He said, “Anything you like.”
“I like whatever you like, love,” Viktor says, and the sullen boy’s eyes dart back to him in an instant. “So, tell me, what fruit. We can’t go home with only peaches and strawberries.”
Jayce hums to himself thoughtfully, bounding lightly as they walk. “Persimmons?” He suggests, pointing to a stand with the orange fruit. “Viktor, aren’t persimmons a winter fruit?”
Viktor looks at him curiously, taking a step to the stand with a red and white canopy. “Yes, why do you ask?” He said, nodding to the stand owner. Viktor reaches for a green disposable bag as Jayce speaks again. “Well, fruits like strawberries and peaches are summer fruits. Why do they look so ripe?” Jayce asks inquisitively.
“Good question,” Viktor said, barely containing his admiration for the intelligent child. He wonders if he could get Jayce to invent alongside him one day. But that day would be far off, for Jayce was too young to be playing with such tools.
Admittedly, Viktor had as a boy, but that was in the Undercity, so he says that doesn’t count.
“In the Academy, I designed a greenhouse to grow all sorts of fruits and vegetables for the Undercity. The Undercity doesn’t get a lot of natural light, so it did the Undercity good with it.” Viktor explains, watching the child's eyes grow wide. “It’s now used all over Piltover, even in small villages like the one we live in.”
Viktor finishes elaborating, weighing the bag of four persimmons on the scale. He reaches for three gold coins, placing it in the owner's hand. He adjusts the two bags in his hand, proceeding to walk.
“That’s really impressive,” Jayce muses, his eyes running across the snowy path. “You’re extraordinary, Viktor.”
“Thank you, love.” Viktor replied, smiling. “You may find me less exciting when I say we’re about to buy vegetables.”
Instead of his jest against himself landing, it failed once again. “I will never find you boring,” Jayce stated, eyes narrowing. His mood had changed so abruptly, Viktor took a moment to remember how to breathe. Viktor then noted Jayce’s strong opposition to Viktor degrading himself. Odd child. Viktor thinks, unable to withhold a small smile.
“Thank you, love,” Viktor just sighed, “What produce do you fancy?”
Jayce glanced around at the stands. Viktor figured it was because Jayce was struggling to find anything appealing. Produce was never one to spark joy in a child. There were stands of broccoli, lettuce, some sort of squash. Viktor didn’t like squash… It seemed as if the boy also loathed squash as much as him.
Jayce was narrowing his eyes to it, darkly, as if it could sprout legs and attack them. Viktor sighed, this time with more exasperation. “Jayce, come on. The squash can’t hurt you.”
“You don’t like it.” Jayce said plainly, and Viktor’s brow instantly shot up. “And you could tell, how?” He asks, more curious than creeped out. Jayce’s hazel eyes locked with his, only for the briefest of seconds. “Your lips,” The boy muttered, voice painfully soft. “They curl down slightly when you’re displeased.”
Viktor stared blankly at the preceding path, unknowing what to reply to that.
“I see…” Is all he could manage before switching subjects. “How does a salad sound? I have carrots at home, we do need tomatoes.” Viktor muttered, pushing Jayce’s observation out of his head.
Sometimes ignorance was a freedom, of sorts.
“That sounds good,” Jayce said, raising his finger to a separate stand. “What’s that?” Jayce asks, pointing to a stand that was littered with parts of old mechanic constructions. And behind the stand was a familiar face.
“Benzo,” Viktor said calmly, bearing a smile. The larger man’s head turned away from a customer, looking at Viktor’s approaching figure, before his eyes darted to Jayce. “Viktor,” Benzo called with an enthusiastic wave. “It’s been a while.”
“It has,” Viktor said, his hand placing itself on the back of Jayce’s head. “This is Jayce,” Viktor introduced, seeing Jayce’s suddenly… virulent expression. He bit his lip, a cold feeling rushed down his back like an icicle had pressed itself against his flesh. As if it began to melt, his face pales as he turns back to Benzo. He mouths an apology, but Benzo takes it easy.
“Nice to meet you, Jayce.” Benzo said, “I’m a friend of Viktor’s.” He sticks out his hand, but Jayce promptly doesn’t take it. Viktor’s eyes narrow, sliding to Jayce. “Jayce, we don’t treat others like this.” He said stiffly. “Benzo worked in a pawn shop in the Undercity. I saw him frequently as a young boy, around your age.”
Jayce’s grip over the finished lollipop stick tightened. His knuckles turning ghastly, and Viktor felt himself go an equally pale shade. Viktor wasn’t adept at reprimanding a child. He didn’t know what to do.
Viktor’s eyes turned down to Jayce. He sighed, bending down with a painful effort. With grueling amounts of energy, he scooped Jayce up in his arms. Jayce’s eyes widened, not from the sudden carry he’d received, but from the evident pain Viktor was feeling in his leg, spine, lungs and standing unsteadily on uneven turf.
Jayce had caught onto all of Viktor’s illnesses faster than his doctor had. Now, Jayce had been paranoid of Viktor stumbling over himself, even sniffing from the cold temperature. It was if the boy thought him to crumble, which he’d somewhat established, the boy indeed thought he’d crash at a light wind.
Guilt welled in Jayce’s eyes, pleas for him to be let down rasped from his mouth like a mantra. “Put me down.” Jayce muttered, head burrowing in Viktor’s neck. “I’m sorry, Viktor.” Jayce said softly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
He could tell Jayce was attempting to adjust his weight in a way that would hurt him the least. It was a sweet consideration, but Viktor wasn’t intending to hurt himself for Jayce to quit his noxious behavior. “I just wanted you to be polite, Jayce.” Viktor said softly, “This wasn’t a punishment to you or me. If you weren’t going to behave, I would have to excuse you from the conversation.”
“I understand,” Jayce muttered, fists grasping Viktor’s coat. “I don’t want to hurt you.” The boy said again, and Viktor gave in. He sighed, lowering himself to the ground. And without any hesitation, Jayce bounded out of his arms, eyes instantly darting over Viktor’s face. “Are you alright, are you—”
Viktor cut him off, smiling. “I am, dear. I wouldn’t have picked you up if I couldn’t have been able to handle it.” I barely managed, Viktor thinks to himself, restraining a strained expression. “Why don’t you go and buy some tomatoes while I catch up with Benzo?” He suggests, reaching into his pocket.
“No,” Jayce said, sternly. “No, I want to stay with you.” Jayce said, and his words seemed absolute. Viktor could only sigh, stuffing the coins back into his pocket. He glanced at Benzo apologetically. “Give Vander my regards,” Viktor said as Benzo nods. “Talk at another time,” Benzo chuckles, and Viktor smiles. He nods politely back, “Yes, at another time.” He said, feeling Jayce’s hand tighten over his own.
“Let’s go finish shopping,” Viktor said, smiling at Jayce, who looked rather bitter. Viktor managed to arch a brow to him, pulling his hand away from the boy to walk with his cane. That only made Jayce’s expression gloomier. His face strained, stepping to a stand littered with tomatoes, lettuce, and red bell peppers.
“Why did you act to Benzo like that, Jayce?” Viktor asks, ripping a disposable bag from a large role. He stares at Jayce’s looming face, eyes narrow with spite. Venom, beginning to hunt prey. It was an odd sight to see on a child. It made Viktor partially feel deeply concerned, but it gave him something to rationalize the behavior as nothing.
Viktor landed on believing the latter.
“It doesn’t matter,” Jayce spits with unsettling amounts of rage. His brows were furrowed, eyes so narrow they were practically closed. “You’re going to see him later anyway.”
Viktor scoffs, snapping his head to the vegetables. “Is this what this attitude is about?” He asks rhetorically, placing three decent tomatoes into the bag. “Jayce,” He huffs, shaking his head. “We’ll talk about this at home. Not in public.”
Viktor awaits a response, but it never comes. Viktor shakes his head again, now tossing a few bell peppers into the bag. He places it on the scale, repeating the process. Viktor gives the gold to the owner, turning to walk back along the path to their cottage.
While walking, Viktor takes the letter from his pocket and slips it into a golden colored mailbox. He feels Jayce’s eyes looming on him, questions welling in his throat. But they both weren’t speaking, and Viktor knew Jayce wouldn’t start now.
The walk back was uneventful. It only carried tightness in the air, even if they were outside. Jayce sourly trails behind him, bitterly pouting enough, Viktor gave up glancing back to see him. His heart throbbed with sadness, the anguish of a first real argument. It was as if the entire sky had been drained of oxygen. Jayce scuffled his boots as they walked, using the famous, and childish, silent treatment. Viktor didn’t indulge in his childish games, only sewing his own lips shut until he saw the porch.
Viktor climbed up the singular wooden step to the porch, wiping his snow covered boots onto the mat. Jayce followed behind him obediently, even if his face was still set in a scowl. He reached into his pockets, his cold hand opening the door and swinging it open. Viktor turned to let Jayce go through first, but he seemed intent of letting him go. And so, he just sighed, stepping through.
“Are you going to tell me why you're so upset?” Viktor asked slowly, placing the groceries on the counter. He begins taking his coat off his back, arching a brow at the boy who followed, shucking his coat off.
Surprisingly, Jayce spoke, eyes wild with fury. Viktor was momentarily taken aback, seeing the abhorrent that swirled in such small eyes. But he swallowed his nerves. I know nothing about children, Viktor bit his lip, unsure if that was his sincere thought, or dismissal.
“That man,” Jayce seethed, his back turned to Viktor, hanging his own coat on the wooden rack. His head turned slightly again, revealing his swirling eyes, ready with madness.
“I don’t like him,” Jayce said darkly, turning around aggressively. He stalked over to Viktor, taking his coat from his hands. “You like him.” Said Jayce spiteful, hanging his coat up on the rack beside Jayce’s. “You like him.” Jayce parrots, but Viktor could hear the unsteadiness.
No spite was in his tone when he addressed Viktor, besides evident sorrow. He turned his head around, but not approaching him further. Viktor didn’t say anything. Didn’t know what to say. The young boy crossed his arms, hazel eyes blowing wide, welling up before fat tears rolled down his cheeks. His hatred was gone, and all that was left was the purest form of sorrow.
A very prominent lump found itself in his chest. Viktor’s voice hitched as he spoke, words cracking. “What?” He questioned softly, rushing over to Jayce. He ushered himself over to the couch, sitting down and nudging Jayce up beside him.
“You like him more than me,” Jayce broke down, curling up beside him, face buried in his chest. The boy wept as Viktor clutched him in close, just as he’d done carrying him out of the snow.
Viktor hummed to him softly, running a hand through his soft hair. “No, no, I could never like someone more than you, Jayce.” Viktor comforts, arms tightening over Jayce’s trembling body. “I won’t let you—” Jayce sniffed, hands tightly gripping Viktor’s chest, almost painfully. “You aren’t anyone's but mine.” Jayce hissed through tears, and any other day, if the words weren’t spoken through sobs, Viktor would’ve felt fear.
But now, all he could do was sooth the boy, whispering, “I’m all yours.” Viktor kissed his forehead gently. “You’ll always be my number one, dear. I’m yours, Jayce.”
As if it had been magic, Jayce only made a soft sniffle, wiping his tears. His voice only hitched slightly, and Viktor gently brushed hair from Jayce’s damp face.
“Mine?” He asked. And unintelligently, Viktor replied sincerely, “Forever.”