Chapter Text
It took him all of thirty seconds to decide to drain the gauntlets once she left. He did take her advice to heart— afterwards, he splashed his face in the sink and brushed his teeth but didn't bother shaving or combing his hair. He donned gloves to cover the rune and settled on just strapping a plate of scrap metal to his chest under the blanket, closing his dirty coat over it so that he could go home without drawing too much attention. He needed to shower, but he hadn't eaten in over a day and a half, and he only vaguely recalled drinking from the faucet a couple of times. He dragged himself up the stairs to his dorm, gripping the railing like a lifeline and hoping no one would walk by. The notion crossed his mind that if someone of status had needed accessibility, maybe Viktor would've suffered less each day. Everything was stairs in Piltover, which made him wonder what happened to residents who could no longer use them. He had yet to see anyone in that category who wasn't a homebound senior. Whenever he thought about these things, he just got angrier and more disgusted.
Right now, though, he needed to not pass out. He was shaky, tunnel vision encroaching.
He made it into his dorm, remembered to lock the door, and slid to the floor, shedding his layers and recovering for a few minutes before scooting over to the fridge and rummaging. He barely bought groceries anymore because he ate out at fancy events and council meetings so often, and when he wasn't, there was the cafeteria, or Sky surprising them with treats. He was nauseous from not eating for so long, and most of the things left in his fridge were useless, like condiments, or expired, save for the glass bottle of sweetmilk Viktor had given him years ago that he kept in the hopes of being able to offer him it if he visited. As it turned out, sweetmilk from Zaun was translucent artificial milk with sugar substitute, but it was dense in nutrients and protein. Viktor used it as a meal replacement whenever he was too sick to eat and/or forgot that bodies need food, which meant he basically lived off of it. It was a wonder he still liked it. It matched him well enough, though: pragmatic, yet sweet. He'd said it was expensive by undercity standards, like some elixir of life or infant formula, so once he had a salary, that was the first thing he bought and stocked up on. It apparently never expired or even required refrigeration until opening; it just looked questionable. Viktor explained all of this to him passionately on the day he was gifted that bottle. Guilt and regret bubbled up again. He'd never tried it, and by the time he finally got around to inviting Viktor over, his state was too poor for those damned stairs. He didn't even let Jayce carry him up the Academy ones.
He sat against the fridge, unscrewed the lid, and took several wary sniffs. It smelled fine, so he took an even warier taste, tilting a few drops onto his tongue. It was sugary— he wasn't sure what he expected. Hunger caught up with him all at once, a pang seizing his stomach that was quelled by him chugging half the bottle but replaced with hiccups. He slowed down, switching to intermittent sips and just savoring it. He wished Viktor could see him, that they could make one more sex joke together. Sometimes they forgot Sky was there and subjected her to deadpan, nonchalant, entirely unhorny conversations like:
“Weren't you going to get lunch with us?” “No, I will be guzzling cum in the name of multitasking.” “Ah.”
“Fuck, I'm starving...” “Have you considered partaking in the guzzling of my sweet cum?” “Maybe another time; I'm craving something solid and spicy.” “There is always this sausage.” “You want me to eat your vick?” “Eh, sure. Have at it.” “... Never change, Dicktor.” “I can make no such promises.”
One of the greatest mysteries to them was why she never quit. He wondered if she knew about Viktor yet; he hoped not, because he figured he should be the one to tell her.
He turned the bottle upside down, mouth around its neck, and let the cool remnants dribble down his throat, tonguing the inside rim for what he couldn't reach. Once he gave up trying to get every single milliliter, he laid back with a content sigh and licked his lips, hands over his middle in bliss as he waited for his blood sugar to stabilize. He felt better already, but he still teared up thinking about not getting to hear Viktor's bad jokes anymore. He would've given his leg for Viktor to say he was glad he enjoyed his cum, that he was full of it; anything to see him smirk again. He always looked so triumphant at how he could get Jayce to genuinely smile and laugh.
He almost fell asleep, but the position was uncomfortable and he felt sticky from sweat, so he pulled himself up with the counter, peeled his remaining clothes off, and dragged himself into the bathroom for a quick, cold shower. It helped. He flopped onto his bed and fell asleep near-instantly atop the blanket, barely censored by his towel. He was starting to worry that this exhaustion would never go away, that it was the consequence for making his body process so much magic, but he had also neglected the hell out of himself. In any case, he seemed to be recovering well enough, just incomprehensibly tired. Sometimes he dreamt of that astral plane, sometimes he blacked out instead. Sometimes he felt like he would see Viktor or his floating avatar, but it didn't happen. He chose to fill his conscious mind with their happier memories, brought out the clipping of them winning the Distinguished Innovators award — they had rumpled clothes and bags under their eyes, so prominent that they showed up in that small, low resolution photo, but they were grinning at each other all the same, Viktor a bit flustered at being drawn in by his broad arm — and flipped through his doodles of Viktor in old journal entries, recalling his godawful attempt at painting Viktor's face over his on a “Man of Progress” mug. It had left Viktor gripping the handle and his cane for dear life as he tried not to crack up. Politeness was not a skill he possessed or wanted to, but he did try hard not to be hurtful. When Jayce had started laughing about the mug, it was like a dam burst, Viktor's whole body shaking as he wheezed, in stitches, eyes watering. Once he could speak, he told Jayce it was the greatest gift he had ever been given, to which Jayce beamed but then pointed out that he upgraded his cane and made the brace. Viktor smiled and said they fell under a different category. Jayce was just happy for this glimpse at him being happy. He wished he could've bottled it and kept it beside the sweetmilk, for emergencies.
Sometimes, intrusive thoughts of Viktor's corpse haunted him— in particular, the moments when he was pseudo-reanimated. Jayce felt sick imagining all that he didn't know. He knew Viktor had been in pain his entire life, but this… he never saw him express it on such a soul-deep level. It hurt to witness, like the sounds of an animal snatched by a predator, as Viktor resisted, fighting tooth and nail against the Hexcore with what little strength it was lending to trap him.
At the least, Jayce knew he wasn't suffering anymore. His essence continued to provide comfort and ground him, unwavering like a beacon.
Mel stopped by an unknown amount of time later. Part of him trusted her with seeing it, but the wildly protective part of him won over. He strapped the metal plate back on over a tank but under a loose shirt, making a mental note to find a better alternative, then draped the blanket over his shoulders and donned his gloves. He didn't care if he looked stupid.
"Jayce, I'm so sorry… How are—”
He clung to her, stooping with his head over her shoulder. She held him as he broke down yet again, surprising himself. Whenever he thought he was out of tears, his body proved him wrong.
She stroked his hair and rubbed his back as he fell apart, kept together by her. After a while, she convinced him to let them through the threshold so they could sit down and ensure privacy. He immediately rested his head in her lap, arms around one of hers.
“... I was worried when you left. I can't say I'm much less now, but it's good to… Well, I'm relieved that you're still alive.”
“He's dead, and he was right next to me. It doesn't make sense.”
“I know,” she murmured, carding her fingers through his hair soothingly. “... What I do understand is that he wouldn't want you to waste away. I brought a little care package.”
She gestured beside her to the large woven basket filled with artisanal delicacies, which he had somehow missed. He didn't want to let go of her arm, but he was starving. He ended up sort of holding onto it with his shoulders and chin as he went to town on tins of dried fruits, nuts, and biscuits. She continued to pet his hair in fond bemusement, ignoring the crumbs on her lap. He chased them down with a medicinal sort of juice, rich in herbal extracts that masked most of the alcohol taste.
“That's very strong,” she cautioned.
“Mn.”
He continued to drink until the flask was empty, then met her gaze.
“... Thank you. Sorry, I just… I miss him so much it hurts. I wish I could go back to hold him, take away all his pain, cradle him in my arms and kiss every little crease on his face, make sure he survived somehow and stayed safe, that he- that he didn't think he needed to resort to doing those things to himself, at least not alone, god, Mel, it was fucking horrible—”
She shushed him gently when he got choked up, taking the flask from his hands and letting him drape himself around her like an overgrown child-slash-lapdog. He gradually relaxed from her touches and the booze. She'd resigned to him falling asleep on her when he spoke, voice faltering with a slight crack at first.
“Hextech is over, ok? I don't want anyone trying to replicate it.”
He anticipated she would argue, maybe coax him with her golden tongue, but she didn't.
“Of course. I will do everything in my power to ensure nothing else comes to fruition.”
“... Including the Hexgates.”
…
“I'm unsure how much I can influence that, and it will be an uphill battle. Do they pose a threat?”
“Not as much as their power source, but I… Did you see the document? They only put my name on it.”
She fell silent. He let go of her arm but was too comfortable to get up.
“... You knew.”
“It wasn't my decision, but I didn't think it mattered.”
“No one thought he mattered.”
“Jayce, that's not what I—”
“You couldn't even look him in the eye when you suggested making weapons. You told me alone that the decision was mine, like he wasn't even there.”
…
“The "era of magic" was a grievous mistake, one that I will regret ushering in for the rest of my days. It made me responsible for his death to some degree.”
“We were all at fault for creating Hextech, but we didn't know better. I'm not upset about that. The bureaucracy, prioritizing capital, roping me into being a showdog and playing politics... letting him be our invisible machine while I worked rooms instead of staying in the lab with him like I was supposed to, doing what mattered most, what I was good at… I can't help feeling like you used us, even if you meant well.”
…
“You're right. I thought I could harness your potential for the greater good as well as my own. I'm sorry.”
“... I liked having my ego fanned. I can't pretend I had a problem with being the golden boy, but I wanted Viktor's name and face beside mine. It wasn't fair.”
“I… did offer to put him on merchandise once, but he looked completely and utterly revolted by the idea.”
Jayce managed a quiet laugh at that.
“Sounds about right; he hated the spotlight... He never gave me shit for basking in it, which made me feel worse about leaving him out, despite him using all the freebies. He said he just thought they were funny, but I think he was kinda proud of me, too.”
“I know he was. I saw the way he looked at you— he was your top fan.”
He smiled up at her, blinking his eyes clear.
“You didn't like him.”
She was caught offguard.
“I wouldn't go that far, but I couldn't have a single conversation with him that wasn't forced and filled with resentment. I can't help feeling like we were fighting for you with conflicting ideals. I swooped in and took you out from under him.”
“You think so?”
“Yes. If I'd known he had so little time left, I… I would've tried to make peace with him.”
“He didn't hate you. He hated the system and how I played into it, how ignorant I've been.”
...
“He was a good man.”
“He was like my—” “Please don't say ‘brother’ again. I had a brother. Your bond far superceded that… and ours.”
He frowned, entwining their fingers to squeeze her hand.
“You're important to me. You take up a separate slot in my heart; it's not a competition.”
“It was a competition for your time and attention. He just treated you differently, like… a partner, I suppose.”
“But we were partners. I made sure everyone knew that.”
She shook her head with an incredulous grin, which faded.
“... I will do my best to always be behind you, but I hope you realize I can't fill your hole.”
“You don't have to; I have the technology to do that on my own. I'm still learning the ropes since you were my first, but I like using my mouth,” he smirked.
“Oh my gods, Jayce, I was referring to the hole he left!”
…
“Right, heh. I don't expect you to fill that either; I don't think anyone can.”
“... I never wanted anyone to get hurt, especially not you two. I wanted him to see a bright new world alongside you.”
“I know, Mel. I'm lucky I still have you.”
She pulled an embroidered napkin from the basket and dabbed around her eyes, then folded it to wipe the crumbs off his stubble affectionately.
“I'm lucky to have you, too.”
She laid back on the bed, and he wasted no time assuming the role of little spoon. They stayed like that for a while before she finally broke the bad news.
“My mother has been encouraging Salo to propose invading Zaun, and they want to seize Hextech for it. I was going to ask you to help me stop them because I don't have the authority to do so alone.”
“Fuck, of course I will. I already deactivated everything in Piltover.”
She considered asking how and when he was able to do so but decided against it.
“I'm relieved to hear that… There's also the matter of the memorial. They want me to give a speech, but I don't know what to say about him. I was hoping for your input, unless you'd like to take the stand yourself.”
“Thank you... I don't think I can, but I'll write something for you to work with.”
She nodded.
“I am happy to finance the funeral. They said his body wasn't delivered, so I assume it's still in the lab. I can send for—”
“I already took care of it, but I appreciate the offer… How'd you know it was there?”
“You yelled that you needed to go there and then sprinted in that direction with him... The last thing I have to tell you is the city commissioned a statue to be unveiled during the ceremony, but it's only of the councilors.”
…
“Fuck the commissioners. I'll forge my own damn statue and weld it to the side.”