Chapter Text
Were it made for a human, the desk would've been too unwieldy and cumbersome for Jayce's room, but it was small enough for him to justify buying.
“Ain't you the chap he called a loon? If my memory serves, he tried to put you away for supporting us.”
Jayce nodded hesitantly, avoiding eye contact by busying himself with opening his rugsack.
“So, what's this about? You fixing to take a fat one on it?”
…
“Reckon he's more the sentimental type.”
“Snrrrk… You should be glad that plucky chucklefuck finally kicked the bucket!”
“... Honestly, I don't know why I want it. But I always thought it looked cool; I'll find some use for it.”
“Whatever, fruitcake,” she snorted. “Just say the word, and I'll pimp it out.”
“It could benefit from stilts and wheels, at the least…”
He smirked fondly, already envisioning the neon collaboration as he handed Ekko a pouch of coins. Ekko gawked for several seconds, then passed it, at a loss, to Benzo, whose surprise was mixed with exasperation.
“Oi, this is getting ridiculous! Normally I'd let a Piltie pay an arm and a leg by our standards, but I know your pockets are shallow. What gives? You can't even sit at that bloody hamster desk. Are you looking for excuses to throw every cog you have at us?”
“It's for a good cause,” he argued.
……
“If you're planning another attempt, I recommend envisioning the unlikelihood of its success, the strong likelihood of lifelong, debilitating injuries, and the widespread grief it will inflict if you do manage to pull it off. Instead, consider baring your soul to the man who thinks bartending is a personality trait.”
“Silco.”
“What? Was it my observation or addressing this elephant you're all afraid to? The boy's practically parading around with a House-crested red flag.”
“I'm not!!! I'm not. Fuck's sake, you try to die a couple times and people assume it's your hobby a decade later…”
Silco raised his hands in resignation before turning back to his drink.
“Ignore them, then… He just has a queer way of showing he cares.”
“(Is that what we're calling it?)”
“HAH!”
“If your “multiple realities” theory holds merit, there must be at least one where I snap and do these imbeciles in,” he lilted.
Jayce shrugged but gave him a coin for his tab as consolation. Silco wrinkled his nose at it.
“How many times do I have to explain that we share amongst ourselves? If you're intent on wringing out your savings, give it to the bozo at the register whose hands are already dirty.”
He complied in bemusement, and Benzo began to object again but Vander intervened and offered Jayce a drink, which he politely declined because he couldn't stay. Vander instead prepared a toast, sending the much younger adults off to call in Vi, Claggor, and Mylo while he poured them juice.
“Just remember, our doors are always open for you. Try not to fall on hard times, but we'll be there to catch you as best we can. And if you ever want to talk about anything, you know where to find me.”
Jayce nodded with an appreciative smile as the others returned. Benzo raised his glass.
“May that furry troll bastard stay away for a millennia this time around, and may we embody exactly why he can shove it.”
Unanimous cheers resounded over their clinks.
“Dammit, Vander, I'm a grownass woman who drinks booze,” she huffed once she noticed her juice. Mylo snickered and received a splash for it, which Claggor smirked at from a safe distance.
“What use could you possibly have for that ancient rubbish? You might as well just find a toddler-sized prodigy to bestow it on.”
…
“Dunno, maybe I am sentimental… How're your parents holding up?”
“Mother's royally ticked off. Our holdings and influence took a hit, as you can imagine, but she's blowing it out of proportion. This was a calculated maneuver in their strategy of dismantlement; she's lucky they even spared her with the way she was waving her rifle around.”
“I'm sure she'll find a real job soon enough if she changes her attitude,” he quipped, a callback to when she snubbed his humanitarian proposal. Cait rolled her eyes in bemusement.
“She'll never change— she'd sooner lose her head than bring it to the level of “common paupers.” She's already acting like we've been put through a guillotine. It's a dreadfully sordid affair, really.”
He chuckled, and she cracked a smile. They fell into comfortable silence as he finished polishing the desk.
“... Have you uncovered anything of interest? Perhaps documents or a key?”
“N- No, haven't looked yet. Why?”
“He was the oldest and most influential person in all of Piltover. For the gods’ sake, he founded it. I assume there's quite a lot of skeletons locked away somewhere or another… Did you at least check for hidden compartments?”
…
“I didn't consider that, but now I'm curious… Anything valuable was probably sold separately, though. They must've gone through the drawers already.”
“Well, let's find out!”
He couldn't help smiling at her excitement as she engaged her investigative mode. However, it reached an abrupt end after she opened an envelope. She slid its photographs back inside with tinted cheekbones before Jayce could see them and retied its clasp, setting it atop the stack of insignificant belongings.
“What? What's wrong?”
…
“They're raunchy,” she managed.
……
“... You mean you saw him—”
“No, gods no, thankfully… He must've fancied Babette… The kind Yordle lady who runs a brothel in Zaun. Apparently she did a photoshoot without any glamour obscuring the- the saggy, leathery bits. It's… It's tasteful, but very explicit, and I wouldn't voluntarily view it.”
He grimaced over the mere knowledge that Heimerdinger was horny.
…
“Sorry.”
“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes,” she muttered with a thousand-yard stare, seeking solace by quoting Vi. He patted her head sympathetically.
“Right, well, that's enough for one day. Maybe even a week,” she sighed, rubbing her brow as if she could remove the memory. “This may be the first case I'll step back from… Carry on at your own risk, I suppose, and let me know if you find anything worthwhile.”
He deliberated continuing after she left, eventually letting his curiosity get the better of him. There was a wide, flat drawer disguised as part of the embellishments on the back of the overhang, which he only noticed upon turning it upside-down and hearing the slightest shift, then knocking to affirm where it was hollow. It had no handle or knob, just ornate carvings that blended in with the rest. Its edges were barely visible and covered at sections with protrusions of the overlapping designs, unlike the other drawers. He wasn't sure whether it even was a drawer, but he loved a good puzzle, so he inspected it and surmised that it was sealed shut with magic like Vastaya locks. There was ordinary wood glue and metalwork in place on the underside, though, so he grabbed his tools and set to removing the nearly invisible nails and pegs, revealing a fake panel. He felt giddy as he leveraged it loose and found an intricate contraption underneath.
He spent hours gingerly taking apart the locking mechanisms, starting out like he was trying to reverse-engineer them but then realizing methodical deconstruction was more viable. Once he reached the compartment, he used a small saw to remove the whole section for ease of access, detached the bolts, and cut through the metal encasement with his steel clippers. He was overwhelmed with excitement despite his exhaustion. The box inside appeared to be enchanted as well but posed much less of a physical challenge and couldn't withstand his determination for longer than a few minutes. It flew open like it was spring-loaded once its hinges were removed, startling him, but then he laughed in triumph, the anticipation filling him with adrenaline. A couple jewels were wrapped in luxurious fabric bundles that filled the case. They fascinated him, but he had a hunch that they served as a decoy, so he set them aside for the time being.
Another fake panel was pried off, and then he was staring at a small, well-worn, nondescript book. He cheered aloud, not caring about potential noise complaints. After riding out the high of victory, he took a deep breath to prepare himself and steady his hands before slowly, gently turning the cover. The binding made a faint cracking noise, one of many indications of its fragility. In the crevices appeared to be generous amounts of soot and ashen dust, which made a small cloud from the movement and seeped out from its spine. On the front page, dirtied and deteriorated like the rest of it, was chicken scratch that read, “Please return this to Viktor (the sole cane user at the Academy, employed by the Dean). Do NOT read premortem.”
He hesitated. If this stranger's property had been confiscated, it might've been stolen outright, but he didn't remember seeing anyone with a cane in his years at the Academy. He worried his lip for another moment before carefully flipping the page, which was coming loose. It appeared to be a journal of sorts, somewhat reminiscent of his own. The first log was dated well over a century prior, so he figured he was safe enough to continue unless Viktor turned out to be nonhuman. He'd never spotted anyone there who was, though, sans Heimerdinger. He sat back and began despite his anxiety.
If you're reading this,
His blood went cold, and he swallowed.
either you are a thief or I am a dead man. Regardless, there is nothing I can do about it. You must feel big for pulling one over on the cripple.
Jayce furrowed his brow at that. Hadn't Viktor specified—
I jest if I am in fact dead. I want my words to outlive me in your mind, dear reader. See me as I was, now that I am no longer. I did not want attention in life, nor do I seek to impart an image of myself on the world, but the sense of isolation, the solitude, left me striving for greater— at the least, this connection.
It is my hope that, by the end of these logs, I will have actually contributed something to the betterment of all, particularly those who suffer most. My voice is unwelcome, my very being an affront to this society, and I operate best as a shadow. I am but one weak man who has less than a year left to live, so this is my testament.
Jayce sat back for a moment to recompose himself, focusing on his breathing before drying his clammy palms on his sleeve guards and picking it up. A slight tremor persisted.
Let me preface with the knowledge that I am no hero. I am not even an agreeable person. It wasn't my decision to live on the fringes, but I don't desire to be entangled in interpersonal affairs. Seeking a place in any community or even some semblance of relationships is a futile endeavor at best. I dislike people. We are equal parts insufferable and inconceivably nuanced. The Human Condition pisses me off and pushes me to madness, so I've removed myself from its equation as much as possible. I am, and will always be, an outsider. There is no point looking in. And yet, I want to be a part of solutions to their senseless pain. It isn't altruism. I ultimately want to fix things so that they may piss me off less. If I can at least know that I tried my best, it should suffice for peace of mind.
I want to invent. To innovate. But that requires money and power. The people who hold them don't want anything that threatens either. Any alleviation of suffering that liberates those under them or isn't profitable won't be permitted. I've contrived a few possible loopholes, though. Ways for the common person to acquire improvements to their daily lives and have more of their needs met. None of my hypotheses have any definitive substance, so only time will tell whether I succeed.
Warmth had bloomed in his chest, overpowering the butterflies below. A pang of empathy made him feel understood for the first time, and he wished the man could've known him as well. He skimmed through schematics, research, equations, and thought experiments alike, most of which were solid but fell short in one way or another. He'd resolved to reread them, but first he needed to know what happened. Viktor managed to achieve a few things like finished prototypes, but there were always barriers holding him back more than his deteriorating health. He'd even convinced bureaucrats to adopt his air filtration system, but it was only installed where it benefitted Piltover, to the extent that Enforcers were equipped with the wearable model for their patrols through Zaun. The familiarity resonated with Jayce like a pit of despair; he'd thought he was the first person to try making meaningful improvements, but it turned out that the city itself had always stood in opposition. Heimerdinger was a constant, but the Council was perpetually terrible. The knowledge that both were gone was his sole comfort once he finished the last log and found an afterword of sorts.
I am going to die soon. My life was lived in vain, futile pursuits void of a single breakthrough. I leave behind no legacy, no notable accomplishments, just a world worse off from my time in it. The filters are all I have to show, and they've only been used to aid brutality. Smog has increased as well now that every oligarch is immune to its effects.
The professor has made it clear that he will never allow anything that challenges the status quo he's established, including experimental treatments and even euthanasia, citing that they go against “nature's design for humans.” However, I won't hazard asking him for permission. This is one last theory I can risk testing now that I have nothing left to lose. Professor, if you have acquired this posthumous, I want you and the rest of the Council to be my pallbearers, so that you may let me down one last time. I used to revere you, which only further disabled me. My dying wish is that you dislodge your disproportionately-sized head from your sphincter so that you can see you've built this city on exploitation that is both systematic and systemic. Perhaps then you will begin to make changes for the common good.
Jayce couldn't help smiling at that, but then he turned the page and found it stuck to the remainder of them like static. He separated them gingerly, and they crackled faintly, raising the hairs on his forearms. The words had become large and overlapped a little, etched with crude, thick, deep lines and filled with what reminded him of magnetized sand instead of ink.
YOU KNEW. YOU SIMPLY CHOSE NEVER TO HELP. I PROVED IT. I AM THE PROOF. YOU CANNOT REMOVE EVERY TRACE OF ME. YOU CANNOT KEEP ME LOCKED AWAY. THE TRUTH WILL GET OUT, AND WITH IT, ME. THE WORLD WILL LEARN. I WILL USHER IN AN ERA OF TRUE PEACE AND PROSPERITY. I WILL END SUFFERING.
His chills culminated in a shiver. When he moved his thumb away, he noticed that the material had spread to it, static adhering it. The sootlike and ashen substances had long since coated his hands. His anxiety rose as he tried to rub it off on a blank page and the friction only created stronger static, attracting more of the material to seep towards him from the other side of the page with a faint, rattling quiver. He dropped the book onto the desk and recoiled from it, but they reached him anyway, and the book jerked forward as if he was pulling an invisible string. He felt energy travel across his goosebump-covered arm as every hair on his neck raised. The taste of ozone appeared in the back of his throat, and then all of the materials were drawn to him, clinging irremovably. He didn't even react to the rest of his hair standing up or loose pages flying out in a whirlwind of electricity and plastering his skin because the energy had phased intangibly through his forehead all at once.
It proceeded to establish a tether, suspending him upright when he blanked out and almost fell. All his mind could do was register the tingles that permeated his scalp with blissful relaxation until they withdrew. He gasped with a fullbody shudder and fumbled to brace against the desk, chest heaving and neurochemicals rushing through him with the euphoria that accompanied an incomparable orgasm. He panted between breathy, quiet laughs until he finally managed to reorient himself and start processing what happened. Papers and the materials had been scattered on the floor, only soot stains remaining in place. A strong current still coursed through him, but it became more of a charge, nothing reminiscent of the time his old classmate accidentally electrocuted him during a lab. Instead, it felt like energy that belonged there, that he didn't know he was missing.
He reached for the book with shaky, sweaty hands, unsure what it would even accomplish since he'd reached the end, but feeling compelled to ground himself with it and affirm its realness or maybe just recreate the experience. It flopped out of his hands, onto the floor. He winced upon noticing all the new damage it sustained, but when he bent over to scoop it up, the lost pages were drawn back into place all at once, smacking into his hands where they obstructed their paths but then whipping past them before he could even withdraw. The book reordered itself with a shuffle and slammed shut afterwards with a soft thud.
He just stared at it, too shocked to even be afraid. When several minutes passed with nothing else happening, he impulsively reached for it again.
“DESTROY IT,” a voice hissed, seeming to come from his mind and lack physical interference. He yelped with a startled jolt and lost his balance on the precariously-tilted chair, but before he could collide with the floor, he was righted. He whimpered all the same — terrified by the defiance of physics — and began to panic, the reality of the situation setting in, but that crash was averted too, as if a switch flipped in his nervous system.
“... Sorry,” the voice murmured, and he could hear the sheepish wince. Everything went back to normal.
……
“What the fuck,” he whispered, still catching his breath.
“Sorry. So sorry,” it repeated, laden with guilt.
Jayce's shock faded as the entity failed to say or do anything else, and then he started cracking up. He was sure he'd lost the remainder of his sanity with the way he kept laughing over the developments, even though he suspected he was just built like that, but he'd been brought to a fit of hysterical tears, deciding it was the funniest joke in the universe.
“What the fuck,” he wheezed.
“... Are you alright?” it hazarded apprehensively.
“Sure, probably not; you tell me… Are you- Are you in my fucking head?”
“I am unsure, in truth… I think it's an effect of whatever he cursed me with and my quantum entanglement. I need to… “untangle” myself. I didn't mean to overstep your— I was unaware of the circumstances,” he mumbled. “Sorry,” he added again, at a loss.
…
“Please don't apologize. It was the best orgasm of my life… if it was one. Might've transcended every physical possibility…… Shit, wait, I'm sorry; that was rude to say—” he blurted out in mortification as he sobered.
“I would argue that causing a surprise orgasm via possession is ruder.”
…
“I would strongly disagree.”
…
“Regardless, I don't know how any of this happened!”
“... Would you ever consider doing it again?”
“Which part?”
“Fuck. Just ignore that; I don't know what's gotten into me…”
“Besides me?” he lilted. Jayce straight-up giggled in surprise, and the tension eased. They went silent for a moment.
“... I'm really sorry about all that's happened to you, Viktor; being stuck in there probably takes the cake— Your name is Viktor, right? You're not some random entity from the void?”
“It's alright, Jayce; these things happen. And yes. Thank you for the warm welcome back.”
…
“I don't… remember introducing myself or welcoming you. Not that I wouldn't! I would.”
“Oh, ah, you must've done so subconsciously, then? You have a beautiful mind. It's quite a privilege to be here.”
“Heh… Thanks. Wow. I just… This is amazing…”
“Incredible, truly.”
“Never thought I'd connect with a kindred spirit, especially not so literally.”
Viktor snorted.
“... I need to stop being so damn horny about it,” he muttered. “It's very rude of me.”
“Ehhh. You're just excited; it's understandable. One cannot help such things; the loins want what they want… And, in any case, I don't mind— by all means, crank away. I consider it both flattering and endearing.”
“... Really? You do?”
“I really do.”
“Oh god,” he whispered as his restraint crumbled.
“You're a good man, Jayce. I can see that atop everything. You have a heart of gold guiding your ingenuity and resolve.”
…
“Oh, god,” he keened softly. Viktor shushed to soothe him, but it only made him hornier.
“Your voice is so- so… nice,” he managed, strained.
“Very kind, Jayce~”
…
“Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?”
“I have my suspicions,” he crooned, rich in smugness. Jayce groaned, hips starting to grind in place and make the chair creak.
“Every time you speak, it's like… like it lights up my brain from somewhere deep inside, from my core. I feel it resonate throughout my whole body without any physical stimuli, and then it lingers like aftershocks, like an echo. It's unreal…”
“That is an apt descriptor,” he lilted, trying not to sound affected. “I don't think there's anything real about me left.”
“No, it- it's real. Realer than anything I've felt before because nothing's getting misread. I can't… misinterpret something that can't be interpreted to begin with. There's no senses that can process it.”
“... That just sounds like a hallucination.”
“Ugh. You know what I mean.”
…
“I suppose I could, if you wanted me to.”
“What do you mean?” he panted slightly, distracted by humping the seat.
“I mean that I might be able to consciously read your thoughts. I just didn't want to do so without permission; it's bad enough that I don't know how to control—”
“Please do.”
…
He felt the light start to bloom behind his eyes and shuddered in bliss, shutting them. His breaths grew ragged as it intensified, warmth growing in his belly.
“Fuck- fuck, Viktor… Feels so… S'so good; I'm so… so… close—”
Energy rushed through him to fill his whole body, similar to the original encounter but distinctly Viktor this time, deliberate without interference, a rainbow of imperceivable colors, cool and warm simultaneously, alighting his nerves with an incomprehensible pleasure. He inhaled sharply, which transitioned to a strangled gasp, and then he moaned outright, orgasming on even more impossible levels. He spasmed violently like he was being reanimated, and he didn't even register that he'd fallen out of the chair because he was past sensory input and Viktor had suspended him in midair again.
He came down from it surprisingly gently, lowered to the ground both physically and metaphorically. He was winded and his pants were soaked through with hot slick, but he was still too far from the sensation to care. With effort, he plopped a hand over his heart to ground himself before it could hammer its way free. For several minutes, he just laid there like that, and then he was able to register a cold sheen of sweat clinging to him, bangs plastered to his forehead. He tried to ignore the crusting stickiness in his pants and just focus on recalibrating his other senses. Gingerly, he squinted open his eyes, unprepared for the brightness all the same. His throat forced out a small groan over its dryness.
“Oh, good, you're still here,” he quipped. “I feared you'd left this passenger to inherit your meat suit.”
Jayce made a delayed, unintelligible noise of acknowledgement.
“It really is limiting… Things were bad enough when I was confined to my own body, but now I can't even clean you up or give you a drink without puppeting you through it. I apologize.”
Jayce furrowed his brow once he processed his words.
“S'fine,” he managed through the exhaustion, voice gravelly. “Y'can.”
“... If you're certain.”
Jayce gave a single, slight nod and closed his eyes again. They reopened on their own within seconds, but he was unfazed, getting comfortable in the fuzzy haze as he was floated around in search of amenities. Viktor managed well enough with Jayce's memories of their general locations. He began with a cool towel wiping his face. Jayce smiled fondly and leaned into his own touch, which felt alien and effortless. Viktor let him close his eyes longer this time, blindly fumbling to remove his clothes and finish up. He was enthralled by every contact with Jayce's skin, struggling not to just cop feels of the abundant, soft hair and the healthy layer of fat over broad, sculpted muscles. He lingered despite his efforts not to, but Jayce was more than content being pet and rubbed clean. He had almost drifted off to sleep by the time his eyes were coaxed back open to rinse the soot stuff off in the mirror. They made eye contact for a brief moment, and the strangeness of it almost prevented them from noticing his pupils were blown and dark blue. Viktor drew closer to the glass to inspect better, and Jayce marveled as much as he could from that tired detachment.
…
“Curious… In truth, I am glad these things didn't happen without my presence, because otherwise I would've been inclined to think you were having a fucking seizure.”
Jayce smirked with a soft huff from his nose. Viktor finished washing his hands, and then he got him a cup of water, lifting it to his lips but not using them.
“You are going to need to do this part yourself. Trust me, you don't want to aspirate.”
Jayce complied and realized just how thirsty he was. He reclaimed his arm to tilt the cup fully.
“Sakra! Slow down,” he implored. Jayce stopped to breathe while he refilled it, then begrudgingly switched from all but pouring it directly down his throat to chugging it. Viktor succumbed to the desire to ghost his other hand over his Adam's apple.
“... I am learning so much about myself,” he mused dryly to deflect from his flusteredness.