Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

They had gotten him a second hand uniform from an old store down the street, his mother had tailored it herself, covering some of the major holes with patches, despite the uniform being old and ripping at the seams, it was the nicest thing he had ever worn. The sun was bright, the streets commotion familiar, the people rushing to get to work or leave their kids at school, the sun gave everything a gleam of life that Jayce welcomed in as he rushed to get to the Academy, only him could be able to be late on his first day of school...

His first class was at the auditorium, with professor Heimersomething, he had not taken the time to learn his teachers names, only Cassandra's, but that didn't count, he already knew her. He rushed into the classroom, confident that the class hadn't started yet, unluckily it had in fact started and right now everyone was staring at him like he had grown a second head. The professor was small and hairy, full on glaring at him from his spot on top of his desk.

"I hope this intrusion is well justified, mister...?"

Jayce wanted the floor to open and eat him.

"Mister Talis, professor..."

"Well, Mister Talis, care to explain why you just rushed into my classroom like a mad man?"

Correction, he didn't want the floor to eat him, he wanted to die right in this moment.

"I'm sorry, I just thought the class hadn't started..."

How long could a person glare at someone without blinking? Jayce didn't know but he was sure that the professor had broken a world record by now.

"Take a seat, Mister Talis."

Jayce rushed through the rows of seats in the semi circular room until he found a free spot next to a boy that looked around his age, he was pale, thin and scrawny and god- those eyes were...

"People are staring, if I were you I would seat before Heimerdinger kicks you out."

If I were you I would marry you... Thankfully he thought that and did not say it out loud, he plopped down and took out his old had scribben notebook and his dip pen, which had opened and had left a mess on his bag. Fantastic.

He cleaned his stained fingers on his pants and looked around, maybe there was a pencil on the floor or someone had an extra... A pencil rolled through the slightly inclined desks and landed on the small wood piece that prevented the material to fall down, he looked to the side at the boy, he was focused on Heimheim's speech, those glorious amber eyes shining with the streak of sun that filtered itself through the window...

"Quit staring..."

Jayce flushed hard, turning to look at the professor so hard his neck almost snapped in half.  

"...Quantum Physics is no joke, just having a low grade in this class could ruin your entire semester, so none of you wants to mess with me."

Heimheim had definitely looked at him when he mentioned that part. Jayce's notes were horrible, some of the pencil strikes messy due to him being left handed, some doodles and then his writing. If he focused he could actually achieve a somewhat pretty handwriting, but he was not feeling it today. The class eventually ended, and before he knew it the boy had rushed away, he didn't give Jayce the chance of giving the pencil back or asking for his name.

During the rest of the day he didn't even catch a glimpse of those amber eyes, he couldn't take that boy out of his mind, those eyes were burned into his brain. Walking home he was unfocused, too busy thinking about the boy to pay attention to his surroundings. That night he barely slept, and the following day he was the first to arrive, even earlier than the professor, he sat down on the same spot, a more clean notebook on top of the desk, a pencil of his own and the boy's pencil, ready to be handed back as an excuse to start a conversation. 

The professor entered and looked at him dumbfounded.

"I brag on being able on reading my students, mister Talis, but you for sure are something else."

Jayce looked up at the man, on top of a stool that was on top of a few books, the man started to write something on the chalkboard and Jayce simply smiled. Maybe being something else was bad, but at least he was something.

Slowly the people started to come in, and without him noticing a lean figure sat down on the seat next to Jayce and spoke up.

"I believe that is mine."

Jayce may or may not have stared at him without breathing or blinking until Heimheim asked for silence and the boy slowly took the pencil out of his hands.

He was definitely gone.

Chapter Text

It took Jayce the entire class to gain enough courage to speak to Viktor, so when Heimheim finished his class, Jayce took a hold of Viktor's wrist before he left.

"What's your name?"

The boy stared at him like he was a psychopath, Jayce probably looked like one.

"I have to go..."

"Oh.. Well, sorry, yeah- bye...!"

Jayce was pathetic, that wasn't new, but he had reached a new level and it was worrisome. He had to get that boy out of his mind before he went crazy, and having in mind he was already kind of crazy, he had to do it quick. 

The days turned into weeks, the weeks into months and the first semester ended. Jayce had not been able to give his best, he couldn't focus, and when he wasn't thinking about the boy, which he still didn't know his name, he was thinking about something else. Maybe about some stupid dream that was bugging his mind, maybe he saw someone with a new haircut and spent the rest of the class trying to remember what hairstyle they had before or what other hairstyles would suit them. And at the end his grades weren't spectacular. He knew he could do it and he was interested he just couldn't concentrate, it was impossible. Every time he tried to ignore that thing that was bugging him at the moment his whole body itched, his mind buzzed and he wanted to scream. But not everything was bad. He had learnt a lot of things about Heimheim's boy. Firstly, he had gained that nickname because the only class their shared was Professor Heimerdinger's class, in second place, the boy was disabled, Jayce loved that about him. He knew that many disabled people thought of themselves as imperfect or broken, Jayce could only see how strong and beautiful those "imperfections" made them. Heimheim's boy had, for what he could see, a limp. He used a leg brace and a cane and was it weird how the way he walked made Jayce's heart stop for a second or two? Other thing he had learnt was that the boy was incredibly smart. At least in Quantum Physics, but being honest, if he was a top student in that class he was the best at everything. So yeah, Jayce was a puppet for that boy and he didn't know his name. After the initial attempt of a conversation Jayce had tried many more times but the boy kept shutting him off. Sometimes, On Wednesdays, when Heimheim's class was at las period and Jayce was at his most overwhelmed and overstimulated state after a long day of overloading his brain with all types of information he wanted to cry and beg on his knees just to get a single piece of information from that boy, to hear his mind reeling accent directed at him instead of hearing it when he answered one of the hundreths of Heimheim's questions.

And it was on a Wednesday when Jayce laid his head on the desk and proceeded to ignore Heimerdinger that the boy spoke to him.

"We are partnered in the project."

Jayce was dumbfounded to say the least. The boy had finally spoken to him and Jayce just knew he was staring and then- what project!?

"Are you okay..?"

"Uhm yeah... But- I'm sorry, what project?"

"Quantum theory."

"Oh... That's simple?"

"It's worth 70% of our grade."

Fuck.

"W-well, then we should get started. I'm Jayce."

The boy visibly sighed before answering.

"Viktor. We'll do the project on your house, just tell me your address and I'll be there tomorrow at 5 if you're free."

It took Jayce all of his self control to not jump and kiss Heimerdinger for pairing them together.

"Yes! I mean- yes."

Jayce grabbed the cleanest piece of paper he had and wrote down his address, he swore when the words were smudged by his hand.

"Uhm... Can you read it properly...?"

Viktor, oh how glorious to know his name, stared at the paper, the messy smudged scribbling and just nodded slowly.

"It'll do."

Jayce was already counting the seconds until tomorrow.

Chapter Text

Telling his mother that a "partner" was coming home felt strange. Growing up, he never had friends—no birthday parties, no going out. Not that he could’ve afforded those things even if he had. So when he came home, happier than usual, and told his mother about Viktor, he felt like a kid with his very first friend. Because Viktor might not be his friend yet, but if he ever was, Jayce could finally say he had one.

Time always seemed to crawl when you were waiting for something. Jayce had learned that the hard way as a kid, when the night before his birthday felt like it would never end. And for a boy with a mind like his, he was already impatient a week in advance, staring at the clock and willing the seconds to speed up until the day finally came.

Now, waiting for Viktor to arrive, he was climbing the walls. He’d already cleaned everything in sight in a desperate attempt to calm his nerves—and maybe make Viktor think better of him. If he forced himself to summarize everything he knew about Viktor, he’d be left with… almost nothing. But the most important thing was this: Viktor had never seemed annoyed with him—just indifferent.

Jayce understood. Most people grew tired of him, or were only around to use him. Joke’s on them—he’d never had anything to offer except himself. He wore his heart and soul on his fists, and that had left him hurt. Eventually, it taught him to build walls between himself and the world.

That didn’t mean Jayce was rude or mean. On the outside, he looked like any other normal guy. He wasn’t ugly or unpleasant. He was just Jayce—the boy no one knew much about. Not because he kept people out, but because no one had ever cared enough to look in.

Then the doorbell rang.

He heard his mother greet someone with her warm voice and lovely accent, and he rushed downstairs, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste.

"You're here."

Viktor looked at him and frowned, confused. For a moment, Jayce thought he might say something nice.

"Why wouldn’t I be here? I don’t want to fail—I actually care about my grades."

Jayce was stunned—half stung by the bluntness, half mesmerized by Viktor’s accent, the way it scratched at his brain just right. It bugged him that he couldn’t quite place it. Maybe one day he would.

He glanced at his mother, who was watching them with concern—not just for who her son was spending time with, but why he was getting his hopes up. Jayce gave her a reassuring look before turning back to Viktor.

"Follow me. My room’s upstairs."

Jayce turned and headed up. When he reached the top, he looked back to find Viktor only halfway up the stairs.

"Need help?"

"Do I look like I need help!?"

Viktor’s snarl was sharp, and Jayce was smart enough not to answer—even though sarcasm was usually his reflex. He was just glad he was awake enough to recognize Viktor’s tone for what it was: irritation and sarcasm, not actual need.

Eventually, Viktor reached the top, slightly out of breath and visibly uncomfortable. Jayce didn’t say a word as he led the rest of the way to his bedroom.

He let Viktor walk in first and watched him take in the space—a small, cramped room, its furniture a little too big for it.

"You can sit on the bed. I’ll work from the floor."

"Why not the desk?"

Jayce shrugged and glanced at his desk. It was cluttered, even after he’d tidied it up. Half the surface was still covered in stuff. The desk was narrow, too small for his broad shoulders and large frame. Besides, the chair was broken.

"Floor’s comfier."

"Sure. The cold, hard ground is better for working... Whatever. Do you have a laptop?"

Jayce looked at him and shook his head slowly.

"You should’ve told me. I could’ve brought mine. Now what?"

"I went to the library yesterday and got a few books on the topic. And if we really need a computer, my mom can drive us there to use the ones they have. Anyway, I doubt we’ll finish today, so you can bring your laptop next time."

Viktor didn’t sigh. He just accepted it and sat on the bed, waiting for Jayce to gather everything they’d need.

Jayce returned with the books, a few ripped pages from his notebook, and two chewed-up pencils. Then they both got to work.

It turned into a long evening—especially for Jayce.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Every time Viktor saw Jayce, his stomach performed that ridiculous, traitorous flip, and his already unsteady knees seemed to lose what little strength they had left. It wasn’t funny, or charming, or remotely pleasant — it was infuriating. A cruel joke the universe played at his expense.

Why him? Out of all the people on the planet, why did it have to be Jayce Talis? The question gnawed at him like an itch beneath the skin.

He felt foolish, absurdly so — like a lovesick teenager stumbling through his first crush. Sometimes he even felt younger than that, naïve and unguarded, soft in all the places he’d spent years fortifying. Not that he was old, but there were mornings when his body ached like it carried a century. After all, he was the only kid in the orphanage whose knees ached before it rained.

Jayce Talis was a menace — to society, yes, but more dangerously, to him. The man was utterly reckless, the kind of person who didn’t seem to realize that one careless tug could splinter Viktor in two. It was endearing sometimes, that thoughtless gentleness of his — the way Jayce saw him not as fragile, but whole. Yet it also hurt in the worst possible way, because even the smallest roughness, the slightest playfulness, could leave Viktor reeling.

He knew he was hopelessly, irreversibly fucked the day he caught himself staring at Jayce instead of listening to Heimerdinger’s lecture. He’d missed half the class before realizing his pen had stopped moving entirely. If his grades fell, he swore he’d murder Jayce — though that would mean no more nights in his stupidly comfortable bed or Mrs. Talis’s cooking, which tasted like kindness itself. Getting rid of Jayce wasn’t an option.

Fuck.

“A herd of ducks attacked me this morning on my way here.”

Viktor didn’t even have to look up to know Jayce was blocking the sun again — greedy bastard, always taking what little warmth was left for himself. Still, curiosity tugged at him, and when he did glance up, the sight nearly undid him. Jayce stood there with sunlight streaming behind him, haloing his broad shoulders and turning his hair into threads of gold.

If angels existed, Viktor decided, they probably looked like idiots.

“What the actual fu—”

“No swearing!”

Viktor inhaled sharply, counted to ten, and exhaled through his teeth. Then he looked back up, deliberately, shamelessly.
“How,” he asked, “did you even manage to make a bunch of ducks attack you?”

“They hate when people run near their kids.”

“Reasonable.”

Jayce laughed, the sound deep and bright, then dropped down beside him. The sun returned, spilling over them both like a slow exhale. Jayce’s tan skin glowed in it, his eyes catching flecks of light until they looked almost molten. Viktor felt the corners of his mouth twitch and immediately despised himself for it. He wasn’t supposed to find Jayce radiant. He was supposed to find him irritating.

“Your bus’ll take a while,” Jayce said. “Wanna go to my house?”

“Walking?”

“Yeah, lazy ass. Walking.”

Viktor tilted his head up the street, squinting. If he focused hard enough, he could just make out Jayce’s house at the very end. It wasn’t too far, but the thought made every bone in his body hum in protest.

“If I ever walk to your house, don’t open the door,” he said. “It’s not me — it’s a clone.”

Jayce’s laugh burst out, not loud but genuine, a soft sound that curled in Viktor’s chest. He turned away quickly so Jayce wouldn’t see the flush climbing up his neck.

“I’ll stop a cab,” Jayce said, grin still there. “But you’ll owe me five bucks.”

“God will pay you.”

“You don’t believe.”

“You do. That’s enough.”

“Not that much anymore,” Jayce admitted, his tone gentler. “My faith’s faded over the years, honestly.”

“It’s only a problem if you say so, Talis. Don’t stress yourself.”

Viktor didn’t miss the quiet glance Jayce gave him after that. He never missed anything about Jayce. Sometimes he noticed too much — the way his muscles shifted beneath his shirt, the faint scar near his jawline, the shadow of a dimple that appeared when

he smiled. It was infuriating how easy Jayce was to look at.

“Come on, Lazy Pants,” Jayce said, raising an arm to wave down a cab.

Viktor groaned as he stood, then groaned again as his body protested. The familiar pain rippled through his back and down his legs — sharp, cold, inevitable. It never really went away. He’d stopped expecting it to.

Jayce’s house was warm at night — not because of the fire crackling in the hearth, nor the mountain of blankets draped over the couch, but because Jayce was there, cross-legged on the rug and pouting like a sulking child. He’d just lost to chess for the third time. Mrs. Talis sat nearby in her rocking chair, knitting with the soft rhythm of someone used to watching this scene unfold a thousand times.

“Son, get the boy another blanket,” she said without looking up. “He’s shivering.”

Jayce dropped his act immediately, worry flickering in his eyes as he stood to fetch one from the couch.

“Vik, it’s pouring outside,” he said, shaking the blanket out. “If you look like you’ll catch a cold in here, I don’t even want to imagine you out there.”

“Jayce is right, boy,” Mrs. Talis said, voice warm but firm. “You shouldn’t go out. I’ll prepare Jayce’s bed — I didn’t get him a trundle bed for nothing.”

Viktor opened his mouth to protest, but Mrs. Talis was already climbing the stairs. Jayce was still watching him, those damnably gentle eyes soft and bright. They were the kind of eyes that could undo a person.

“Thanks,” Viktor muttered.

“Don’t thank me. I’m going to beat your ass at chess this round — I swear.”

“Dreaming’s free, Talis.”

“This is war.”

Viktor chuckled under his breath, adjusting his pieces and watching Jayce take the first move. It was strangely easy to forget the cold outside with Jayce sitting there, his brow furrowed in concentration, tongue poking out ever so slightly in focus. The sight made Viktor’s chest ache — in the good way, the unbearable way.

Jayce’s bed was obscenely comfortable. The kind of bed you could sink into and never claw your way back out of.

“Don’t start purring,” Jayce said from above.

“Asshole.”

“Touché.”

Viktor rolled his eyes, so hard he nearly saw his brain. Jayce was lounging on the top bunk, legs dangling off the edge, wearing a ridiculous pair of Christmas pajamas.

“It’s October.”

“Close enough to Christmas.”

“You’re a lost cause.”

“I know.”

“Asshole.”

“Say something new.”

“Good night.”

“Well, that’s definitely new.”

Viktor turned over, determined not to look at that smug grin — because if he did, he might just lean up and kiss it away.

The warmth of the room, the softness of the mattress, the faint scent of cedar and something distinctly Jayce — it all wrapped around him like a lullaby. For the first time in what felt like years, his body loosened, his thoughts quieted. He sank into the kind of sleep that felt almost sacred, deep and untroubled.

So deep, in fact, that he missed Jayce’s soft, whispered confession.

“Good night, Vik… I love you.”

Chapter Text

The first thing Viktor felt was warmth. It was heavy and golden, spilling through the curtains and across his face. The air smelled faintly of rain and fresh bread, the kind of scent that made him think of Sunday mornings and the slow ticking of old clocks. For a long, drowsy moment, he didn’t move. He didn’t even open his eyes. His body felt weightless, cocooned in a comfort he wasn’t used to — the kind that came without pain, without effort.

Then the ache in his back returned, dull but familiar, and he sighed. Reality always found a way back in.

When he finally opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was the soft blur of the ceiling. The second was Jayce.

The man was already awake, sitting cross-legged on the upper bunk, hair a wild mess that somehow made him look even more annoyingly handsome. He was scrolling through Viktor's old laptop with the deep concentration of someone trying to look busy but failing spectacularly.

Viktor’s voice came out rough, still heavy with sleep.

“How long have you been staring at that thing?”

Jayce startled a little, looking down. “You mean the laptop or you?”

Viktor groaned into his pillow. “If you keep saying things like that, I’ll suffocate myself.”

Jayce’s laugh was quiet and fond, like something he wasn’t sure he was allowed to let out too loudly.

“You sleep weird,” he said, voice teasing. “You curl up like a cat.”

“That’s called trying not to die of cold.”

“It’s seventy degrees in here.”

“Then I’m dying of habit.”

Jayce grinned, leaning over the edge of the bunk so his hair fell in loose waves toward Viktor. For a second, the sunlight caught on the tips, turning them copper. Viktor tried very hard not to notice. He failed.

Mrs. Talis’s voice called up from the kitchen.

“Jayce! Breakfast! And tell Viktor I made the jam he likes!”

Viktor blinked. “…How does she even know what jam I like?”

Jayce’s grin widened. “Because you talk in your sleep.”

“I do not.”

“You asked for strawberry last time you stayed over.”

“Coincidence.”

Jayce’s laughter followed him as he climbed down from the bunk, moving with that effortless strength Viktor both envied and adored. The moment he hit the floor, the room filled with the faint creak of the boards beneath his weight — small, ordinary sounds that felt absurdly intimate in the morning quiet.

“Come on,” Jayce said, offering a hand. “Breakfast is the only thing my mom makes that’s better than her lectures about eating breakfast.”

“I’ll take my chances starving.”

“You won’t. I know you too well.”

Viktor hesitated, staring at Jayce’s outstretched hand. His fingers were rough, calloused from work and tinkering, the kind of hand that could crush or cradle with equal ease. It felt too much like a metaphor.

“Fine,” he muttered, taking it. His knees complained the moment he stood, but Jayce didn’t let go until Viktor was steady. The warmth of his palm lingered even after he pulled away.

Downstairs, the world felt alive. The rain had stopped sometime during the night, leaving everything outside shimmering — the kind of light that made windows glow. Mrs. Talis was humming softly as she set down plates, her grey hair tied in a loose bun that bounced when she turned.

“Good morning, boys,” she said. “Viktor, sit. You look half-dead.”

“I feel half-dead,” he replied, and she laughed, patting his shoulder on the way past.

Jayce sat opposite him, chin propped in his palm, watching him like Viktor was some complicated math problem he couldn’t quite solve.

“What?” Viktor asked, spreading jam on his toast.

“Nothing,” Jayce said too quickly. “Just thinking.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“Rude.”

“True.”

Mrs. Talis chuckled quietly from the stove, pretending not to listen, though Viktor was fairly sure she was enjoying every second.

They ate in comfortable silence for a while — the kind of silence that was full instead of empty. The ticking clock, the sound of butter scraping toast, the soft tap of rain dripping from the roof — it all made the moment feel suspended, unreal. Viktor caught himself staring again. Jayce’s eyes were softer in the morning light, less fire and more honey. He looked tired, but in that peaceful, human way Viktor rarely saw. He looked real. Jayce must’ve felt his gaze, because he glanced up with that small, crooked smile that always managed to knock Viktor’s heart off balance.

“What?” he asked again.

Viktor swallowed. “You’ve got jam on your face.”

Jayce wiped the wrong cheek.

“Other side,” Viktor said, deadpan.

Jayce grinned, eyes crinkling. “You could’ve told me sooner.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

Later, when Jayce walked him to the door, the morning air was crisp and bright, smelling faintly of wet leaves. Viktor paused on the porch, leaning on his cane as Jayce lingered by the railing, sunlight cutting across his face.

“You’ll come by later?” Jayce asked, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly.

“Maybe,” Viktor said. “If I survive the day.”

“You will.” Jayce’s smile softened. “You always do.”

Viktor looked at him for a long moment, then nodded once. “Don’t get attacked by ducks again.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“Do better.”

“I’ll do better.”

Viktor turned to go, heart stuttering in that maddening, uncooperative way it always did around Jayce. Behind him, he heard the soft scrape of the door closing, and for some reason, it made the world feel quieter.

The trip to Zaun was always exhausting. The bus was cramped, the air thick with the scent of rust, oil, and too many people pressed too close. He had to stand the whole way, gripping the cold metal bar while every bone in his body complained. When the doors finally hissed open, stepping out into the familiar streets didn’t bring the comfort it once did. His legs ached, his hands still trembled faintly from the effort of holding on, and even the short walk toward the orphanage felt endless.

It wasn’t that he disliked the place — it was home, after all. The old brick walls and uneven floors had raised him, sheltered him, given him a family of sorts. But ever since he’d met Jayce — ever since he’d felt the quiet warmth of that small, sunlit house, Mrs. Talis’s laughter echoing faintly from the kitchen, the smell of coffee and cinnamon drifting through the air — he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that home could mean something else. Something softer. Something that didn’t ache.

When he pushed the door open, the familiar chaos of the orphanage greeted him at once. Children ran everywhere — darting across the halls, clambering over old furniture, shouting and laughing with the wild energy only Zaun’s youth seemed to have. The noise was deafening, comforting, and suffocating all at once.

He slipped through the crowd until he reached the courtyard. There, in the half-shaded corner behind the cracked stone fountain, sat his friends — Vi, Jinx, Ekko, and little Isha. They lounged in the grass, the kind of effortless arrangement that came from years of knowing each other’s silences.

No one said anything when Viktor joined them. They didn’t need to. Silence had become their favorite language, the one that didn’t demand explanations. So he lowered himself beside them, the cool grass damp beneath his palms, and let his body go heavy. He lay back, staring up at the dull gray Zaun sky until it blurred into nothing. His chest rose and fell slowly, each breath tasting faintly of smoke and rain. For the first time since leaving Jayce’s house, he let himself stop moving — stop thinking. He knew he probably wouldn’t be able to stand again for a while, but that was fine. The earth beneath him was steady, unyielding, and for now, that was enough.

“How was your day with our sunshine guy?”

Viktor groaned, dragging a hand over his face. Trust Vi to start talking the moment silence became comfortable. Vi, who never shut up, who barked and bit and cared far too deeply beneath the armor she wore. He’d learned to love those bruised knuckles long before she’d learned to love herself. There was an understanding between lost souls that didn’t need words — though Viktor knew he’d never truly understand what it meant to be her. To always lead, to always carry everyone else’s weight. He pitied her for it, even as he felt secretly grateful that the burden wasn’t his to bear.

“You all don’t even know him,” he muttered.

Vi chuckled, Jinx grinned like a cat who knew too much, Ekko kept his eyes on the cracked cobblestone, and little Isha stayed crouched in the dirt, utterly fascinated by a beetle crawling across her palm.

“Admit it,” Vi teased. “You’re disgustingly in love.”

Jinx’s laughter followed — high, bright, and far too knowing. Viktor’s stomach twisted. He wasn’t in love. That was ridiculous. He barely understood the word, let alone the feeling. And yet… he couldn’t quite summon the energy to deny it.

“Shut up,” he muttered weakly.

“It’s true!” Jinx sang, tossing her braid over her shoulder. “Even Vander suspects something.”

That made him pause. Vander. The thought of the man softened something in Viktor’s chest. The patience it must take to run this place, to care for every single one of them like they were his own blood — it was more than most people could manage. Viktor had been lucky to end up here, he knew that.

“I don’t know, okay?” he said finally, his voice quiet but firm. “And I don’t want any of you poking your noses into my business. I’d like to figure this out on my own.”

The courtyard went quiet again, save for the distant clatter of the city beyond the walls. Vi smirked but didn’t push further. Jinx hummed a tune under her breath, and Ekko finally looked up, the corner of his mouth twitching. Viktor lay back again, closing his eyes. The air was thick and heavy, but somehow peaceful. Maybe they understood after all.

The courtyard eventually emptied as the sun decided he had shone enough and left room for the moon. Vi left first, dragging Jinx along by the collar before she could start another round of teasing. Ekko disappeared soon after, muttering something about fixing the lights in the east wing. Only little Isha remained, sitting cross-legged beside Viktor, tracing patterns in the dirt with a twig.

Viktor loved the innocence in her. It reminded him of himself — of all of them — when they’d been younger, softer, kinder. Before the world had hardened them, before life had pressed them into shapes they never chose. When the bell rang for dinner, she looked up at him with sleepy eyes. He could already see the question there; she didn’t even need to sign it.

“I’ll join everyone in a bit,” he said softly.

She nodded, trusting him without hesitation, and ran toward the mess hall. Her small footsteps echoed down the corridor until they were swallowed by the hum of Zaun’s night. It hit Viktor harder than he expected — how tall she’d gotten, how much she’d changed. He remembered her tiny hands clutching Vi’s coat, remembered her laughter before it had learned to be quiet. Sometimes that image made him forget she was just like the rest of them — dough waiting for the first strike of the world to shape her into something tired and wrong.

Wrong for anyone outside these walls who couldn’t understand what it meant to be from Zaun — to be one of its abandoned creatures, surviving the cold, biting streets and the shadows that hunted in every corner.

Viktor stayed where he was. The air had cooled, carrying that faint metallic tang of rain and machinery. The city above buzzed with neon and steam, and for a fleeting moment, it looked almost beautiful — like stars that had forgotten how to shine properly but were trying anyway. Maybe that was what Zaun was: one of Piltover’s burnt-out stars, fading from a fierce blaze to a soft, dying glow until it finally went dark, leaving its people to rot with the slow collapse of the Undercity.

He sighed, letting his head fall back into the grass. His body ached in that familiar, bone-deep way — the kind of ache that didn’t fade with rest, the kind that reminded him just how fragile he really was.

He thought of Jayce, even though he knew he shouldn’t. Following that trail of thought never ended well.

Jayce, with his bright voice and louder laugh — who seemed to exist at full volume while Viktor lived somewhere between whispers. Jayce, who carried the sun on his back and never seemed to notice how blinding he could be. Jayce, who made Viktor feel both alive and unbearably aware of his own edges — his weakness, his humanity.

It was infuriating. And beautiful. And, most importantly, dangerous — more dangerous than Zaun itself ever could be.

Viktor closed his eyes. The memory of Jayce’s smile flickered behind his eyelids — not the confident grin he showed the world, but the softer one that only appeared when he thought no one was looking.

He hated how much it lingered, how it clung to him like a stubborn pest that refused to leave no matter how hard he tried to drive it away.

He didn’t know what to call this thing twisting inside him. It wasn’t just affection. It wasn’t just want. It was a quiet, restless pull — something that had rooted itself in his chest and decided to stay, defying every attempt to reason it out.

Then the rain began.

It came suddenly, forcing him to his feet. Rain in Zaun was a warning — a reminder that no one was really in control of the city, that all it would take was one accident, one spark, to bring it all crumbling down.

The drops soaked through his shirt, cooling his skin and making his bones ache even more. He groaned, his body moving on autopilot, dragging itself through the familiar routine: up the stairs, down the hall, into his narrow room. He cleaned up as best he could, changed, and finally collapsed onto the hard mattress that passed for a bed.

Despite everything — despite not being in Jayce’s bed, despite the cold, the pain, the loneliness — he somehow managed to fall asleep.

And thankfully, or perhaps not, he dreamed of warm smiles and golden eyes.

Chapter Text

Jayce lay in bed, tired—no, exhausted—but his mind wouldn’t stop. He was disappointed, angry, sad, helpless. He had waited for Viktor to come back, but the boy hadn’t.

It wasn’t like Viktor had promised anything. Jayce had just assumed, hinted that he could come by later, but never actually asked. Still, he had waited on the porch for hours, watching people walk past, hoping to catch a glimpse of those amber eyes or hear that soft accent he still couldn’t place. Maybe even see him with his brace, walking with that quiet stubbornness Jayce admired so much.

It wasn’t pity. It never had been. Viktor didn’t need pity. He was strong—stronger than anyone gave him credit for. Jayce knew that. He respected that.

Still, the silence hurt more than he wanted to admit.

Maybe he’d said something wrong. Maybe Viktor was upset. The questions ran in circles until morning, when he finally dozed off—just in time for his mother to wake him up.

“Jayce! Get your ass up, boy! The bathroom won’t clean itself!”

He groaned, rolling out of bed and dragging himself downstairs. His mother was already cleaning the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, soap everywhere. There was a glass of milk and a plate of eggs on the table.

“Don’t even think about eating that,” she warned, still facing the sink. “It’s cold, and I’m about to start cook—”

She turned around mid-sentence and stopped.

“Mijo! What happened to you? You look awful! Why didn’t you sleep?”

“Couldn’t,” Jayce said simply.

“Again? You know what I said—take your pills when you can’t sleep.”

He looked away. He didn’t want to see the worry in her eyes. He knew he should take them, but he hated how they made him feel—numb, like he wasn’t really him. He’d rather be tired and restless than empty.

“Don’t worry, Ma. It was just one night. I’ve got it under control.” He forced a smile. “I’ll take care of the bathroom.”

She didn’t believe him, not really, but she let it go. Jayce sighed and got to work, focusing on the small, mindless movements that kept his thoughts quiet for a while.

The day passed faster than he expected. By night, the same restless energy was back, but this time it came with hope. He would see Viktor tomorrow. Maybe he’d laugh about it, maybe he’d finally ask him to stay longer next time. He fell asleep thinking about it—about amber eyes, pale skin, and that quiet, awkward smile.

The next morning, Jayce woke up early and left home with more energy than he’d had in days. He rushed through his classes, half-listening to the lectures, waiting for the break. As soon as it came, he ran straight to Viktor’s usual spot.

Empty.

Maybe the library? Or the lab? Maybe talking to Heimerdinger again? There were a hundred possibilities, but none of them made him feel better. Something in his chest twisted uncomfortably. He hurried to Heimerdinger’s lecture hall next. The professor was already climbing his stack of books, trying to reach the top of the board.

“Ah! Mr. Talis! You’re early. Excellent! Come help me with the writing, will you?”

Jayce nodded and helped without saying a word, his thoughts somewhere else entirely.

By the time the class started, the room was full—but Viktor’s seat was still empty. Jayce sat down next to Caitlyn, trying not to look as anxious as he felt.

“You alright, Jayce?” she asked quietly.

Her voice snapped him back to reality. He turned to look at her—the sharp line of her jaw, the perfect posture, the calm she always carried like armor. Caitlyn Kiramman, the girl who’d learned to smile less because people took her more seriously that way. She’d always been kind, thoughtful, patient, but the weight of being a Kiramman had chiseled those things into something quieter, more careful.

“Yeah, Kitty,” Jayce said finally, forcing a grin. “I’m fine.”

She raised a brow, unconvinced, but said nothing and turned back toward the front.

Jayce didn’t hear a single word of Heimerdinger’s lecture.

By the end of the day, Viktor still wasn’t at the bus stop. And when he wasn’t there the next day either, Jayce’s chest grew tight with worry he couldn’t explain. Then another day passed. And another. And by the end of the week, Jayce was climbing the walls, running his hands through his hair like a madman.

Viktor was nowhere.

Jayce realized, with a kind of ache he couldn’t name, that despite spending so much time together—he didn’t know a single thing that could help him find him. No address, no number, not even a clue. And somehow, that hurt more than he ever expected.

Going to class every day without the presence of Viktor to light up his day made him think, about everything, the sickness, the secrets, it was like he had all the pieces of a puzzle he refused to solve because it was Viktor's puzzle and as much as it intrigued him he wouldn't trespass.

By Monday, Jayce was a mess. He’d told himself Viktor would come back — maybe he’d just taken a few days off, maybe there’d been a family thing, maybe he’d show up smiling like nothing had happened.
But he hadn’t.

Caitlyn noticed before first period. “You look like you got run over,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Appreciate it,” Jayce muttered, running a hand through his hair.

“You should talk to Heimerdinger,” she said after a pause. “He’s been asking about Viktor.”

Jayce’s stomach twisted. “About what?”

“Dunno. He just said he needed to get something to him.”

That was all Jayce needed to hear.

He found Heimerdinger in his office before class, half-buried in piles of books and half-dried ink. The old man looked up, eyes brightening behind his spectacles.

“Ah, Mr. Talis! How fortunate. I was about to send for you.”

Jayce straightened a bit. “You wanted to see me, Professor?”

“Yes, yes, quite so. You and young Viktor have been working together on your engineering proposal, haven’t you? Excellent progress from both of you, might I add. However…” Heimerdinger trailed off, frowning slightly as he pulled out a file. “He’s been absent for several days now.”

“Yeah,” Jayce said quickly. “I noticed. Is he okay?”

Heimerdinger hesitated — and that hesitation set off every alarm in Jayce’s head.

“He is… recovering,” the professor said finally, carefully. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, but he’ll be out of class for a bit longer. I’d like him to keep up with the coursework in the meantime.”

Jayce frowned. “Recovering from what?”

Heimerdinger’s brows twitched. “Something… complicated. Not for me to discuss, I’m afraid. Viktor values his privacy — and I suggest you respect that.”

Jayce nodded slowly, but the worry in his chest didn’t ease.

“Would you do me a favor, though?” Heimerdinger continued, sliding a thin folder across the desk. “These are his notes and assignments. You’re one of the few students I trust to deliver them safely. His address is on the front.”

Jayce took the folder before he even looked down — then froze.

Zaun Orphanage.

He looked back up. “He… lives there?”

Heimerdinger’s gaze softened just slightly. “He does. Has for quite some time. Viktor’s circumstances are… less than ideal, but he’s made something remarkable of himself nonetheless.”

Jayce’s mouth felt dry. “Right. Of course. I’ll take it to him.”

“Be careful down there,” Heimerdinger added, tone gentle but firm. “Zaun isn’t kind to strangers, especially ones who look like they don’t belong.”

Jayce tried to smile. “I’ll manage.”

He left the office clutching the folder tighter than he meant to, Viktor’s name staring up at him in neat handwriting. He’d never asked where Viktor lived. Never even thought to — too mesmerized by the boy himself to see what lay behind the sarcasm and sharp wit. Now he couldn’t stop thinking about it — about what it meant.

It wasn’t that Jayce had a problem with people from Zaun. They were as human as he was. But it stung — it stung to realize how little Viktor had trusted him.

The walk home was slow and heavy. The chill of early evening was fading, replaced by the sticky warmth of a city that never stopped moving. Even so, it wasn’t enough to stop Jayce’s thoughts from circling the same point over and over.

By the time night fell, he couldn’t take it anymore.
Maybe leaving at night wasn’t his brightest idea, but he’d spent the entire evening pretending to study, failing miserably. His mother had fallen asleep on the couch after her shift, and he hadn’t wanted to wake her.

So he grabbed the folder and slipped out, heading for the bus stop Viktor always used. He sat at the end of the bench, watching the bright streets of Piltover fade as the bus rumbled lower and lower — until the shine dulled, the air thickened, and the world turned darker and dirtier.

It took nearly twenty minutes of wandering through narrow, uneven streets before he finally found it — an old, gray building wedged between factories and dim neon signs. The orphanage.

He pushed the door open, surprised to find it unlocked, and stepped inside. The place was dim but clean, faintly smelling of metal and soap. Behind a counter sat a tired-looking man, half-hidden behind a newspaper. He didn’t look up until Jayce spoke.

“Uh… hi. I’m here to see Viktor. From the Academy.”

The man blinked, unimpressed. “Leave it here. I’ll give it to him.”

Jayce hesitated. “I’d like to give it to him myself — explain a few things, maybe ask how he’s doing.”

That earned him a glare sharp enough to make him take a step back. He was about to give up when the man sighed, rubbed his temple, and grumbled, “Up the stairs. End of the hallway.”

Jayce barely had time to thank him before hurrying off, afraid the man might change his mind. The stairs creaked under his weight, each step groaning like it hadn’t been tested in years. Upstairs, a row of oil lamps flickered weakly along the hallway walls.

At the end stood a door with chipped green paint. Jayce wiped his damp palms on his sleeves, took a breath, and knocked.

“Come in!”

He pushed the door open slowly — and froze.

Viktor was in bed, pale and sweating, his hair sticking to his forehead. Under the thin light of the moon filtering through the cracked window, he looked almost translucent, his cheeks hollowed and dark shadows blooming beneath his eyes. He blinked once, confused — and then recognition struck.

“What the hell? What— Why are you here?”

“Profess—”

“I don’t fucking care! Get out! Get out! Get out!”

The words hit harder than Jayce expected. Viktor had pushed himself halfway up, trembling, gripping his crutch as if to force Jayce out physically despite how weak he looked.

Jayce’s throat tightened. He wanted to reach him, to ask what was wrong, to tell him he didn’t care where he lived or what was happening — but Viktor’s face was all panic and pain.

So he froze.

Then he backed away slowly, his hands raised, his chest aching like something had cracked open inside him. When the door slammed shut, Jayce stood there for a moment, staring at the peeling paint, listening to the silence that followed.

Finally, he crouched, slid the folder under the wide gap beneath the door, and whispered — though he wasn’t sure why, or if Viktor could even hear him:

“Get better, okay?”

Then he turned and walked back down the creaking stairs, each step heavier than the last.