Chapter Text
Five years.
Five years if Viktor was lucky.
Viktor was going to die. That much had always been true, had always been a threat lurking in the back of his mind, but now there was a clear date. Five years. Five years wasn’t enough.
Five years wasn’t enough, but there was no escaping it. The doctors had spoken, the verdict was given. Jayce Talis never believed in fate, but it felt cruel anyway.
The hospital room was too white, too sterile. The stiff air smelled like antiseptic and the quiet hum of the machines hooked up to Viktor filled every gap in the silence between them. Viktor was sitting up in the bed, his hospital gown hanging loose around his much-too-thin frame, and he was calm. Hadn’t said a word since Jayce told him of his life expectancy. Jayce didn’t know what to do with that.
“Say something,” he whispered, sounding like a plea.
Viktor turned his head to him, slow, as if even the slightest movement was an indulgence. “What is there to say?” Viktor looked at him, patient in that infuriating way of his, like he’d already calculated every possible response.
Jayce swallowed around the thick lump in his throat. “I don’t know. Anything.”
“Five years is more than I expected.”
A knife, blunt and jagged in the way it twisted inside him.
“Don’t— don’t say it like that. Like you’ve already made peace with it.”
“Because I have.”
“No, you haven’t.”
Viktor tilted his head, watching him. “And you have not.”
“Well, how the hell am I supposed to?” Jayce let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. Silence stretched between them, long and thin, fragile enough to break at the wrong word. Viktor was the first to look away. He looked tired. More tired than usual, at least. More tired than Jayce had ever seen him, which must have been saying something, because Viktor had never been anything but exhausted.
“We should go home,” Viktor finally murmured. Home. Like it was that easy, like they could just walk — or in Viktor’s case, hobble — out of there and everything would be fine.
Jayce exhaled sharply. “Viktor—“
“I do not want to spend my remaining time bound to a hospital bed, Jayce.”
“I know.” Shamefully, horribly, Jayce’s voice cracked, splintered down the middle like wood, like the foundation of everything he believed in. The admission felt like defeat. “I know, Viktor. I just— I don’t know what to do.”
Viktor’s palm turned over, open. An invitation that Jayce instinctively took, intertwining their fingers. Viktor’s grip was as weak as it had always been, but it was steady. “You do not need to do anything.”
“That’s the worst part.” Jayce sighed and brushed his thumb over Viktor’s knuckles slowly and absentmindedly. “I should be doing something.”
“You’re here,” Viktor said, as if that was enough. Maybe for him, it was.
Jayce held his hand tightly, helplessly, and Viktor laughed, a low exhale of breath that sounded too fond for the situation. “Don’t mourn me yet, Jayce,” he said knowingly.
He lifted his head, blinking away tears rapidly. The edges of his vision blurred. “You don’t get to tell me when to start mourning you."
“Fair enough, but I would prefer if you waited until I was actually dead. You’re making me quite jealous of the deceased version of myself.”
Jayce let out something between a laugh and a sob, something ugly and utterly breathless. “I hate you,” he muttered, pressing Viktor’s knuckles to his lips. The words were weightless, meaningless, too thick with love to be taken seriously.
“And yet, you still love me anyway.”
Right, because that was the problem. Jayce knew he’d love Viktor anyway. He’d love Viktor every second of every day of these five years. Beyond them, even. After them. Maybe he could even love enough to make up for the lifetime VIktor would never have.
Jayce didn’t know how long they sat like that. The machines beeped, Viktor breathed, and Jayce held his hand and tried his hardest not to break apart.
They left the hospital in the afternoon, right after the doctors pushed another round of medication on Viktor, before Jayce could manage to convince himself that five years was short enough that a hospital bed would be worth it, that they could stretch those five years to six or seven or—
No. No more of that. Viktor made up his mind, and that meant Jayce had to find a way to live with it.
The sunlight hit them both hard when they stepped outside. The City of Progress, gilded in gold, warm, bustling with activity. It felt wrong, like the world couldn’t look this beautiful when everything else seemed so horrible. Viktor shook off the weight of the hospital walls, and looked up to the sky, squinting against its brightness.
Jayce stayed close to Viktor. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, even though he knew the answer.
Viktor hummed. “Would it matter if I wasn’t?”
“Of course it would. Just because I– I don’t want to do anything you don’t like.”
Viktor smiled at him teasingly, then, and the sunlight caught on him, bright halos across his face, his pale skin almost translucent, almost ghostly. Jayce hated the very thought, so he curled his fingers around Viktor’s thin forearm, just shy of begging.
Viktor, perceptive as ever, understood. Turning his palm up and slipping his finger between Jayce’s. Their hands fit together like puzzle pieces. Inevitable, practiced. Jayce felt the tension in his shoulders loosen just enough to be able to walk home.
The first week was the hardest. Harder than any late-night blender, than any unreasonable deadline the Council had given them. Jayce had always been a man of action, of solutions, but there was no tangible way to solve this. No hammer to swing around, no equations to solve, no device to build that could outpace the collapse of Viktor’s body. Jayce could desperately squeeze his hand, could carry him to bed, make sure he ate when he was too tired to remember, but none of that stopped the inevitable. None of that made the five years stretch any longer.
Viktor acted like nothing in the world had changed. It wasn’t as if Jayce wanted Viktor to be inconsolable, of course not, but he just wished for any indicator of his overbearing feelings being seen and heard and clear. Viktor still spent his days in the lab, still corrected Jayce’s notes with a crooked little smile that made his heart turn inside out, he still paced when he was deep in thought, the soft tap of his crutch against the stone floor was still the same as it had always been. But then he’d falter, the sound would cut off, and Jayce would have to catch him before he hit the ground.
Viktor would go slack against him, body trembling from whatever flare up he was experiencing at the moment. Jayce would feel his all-sharp angles through his clothes, would feel how Viktor trembled against him, just long enough for Jayce to know that he was scared as well.
But then, every time, Viktor would laugh. He laughed. As if it were some elaborate prank, as if Jayce wasn’t breaking apart.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Viktor had told him one afternoon, hunched over a set of blueprints neither could properly focus on.
“Like what?” Jayce asked, feigning ignorance.
Viktor exhaled sharply through his nose. “Like I am already in my grave.”
The words hit him like a slap. Jayce stiffened uncomfortably. “That’s not– that’s not what I’m doing.” His voice cracked on the last word, and he hated that, how obvious he always was.
Viktor didn’t look up at him. “It is.”
Jayce opened his mouth, then closed it again, teeth grinding together in annoyance. Frustration curled in Jayce’s gut, thick and hot, and he didn’t even know where to direct it. He wanted to fight, but there was no enemy here, nothing to push against except the reality neither of them could change. “I don’t know how to stop,” he said, clenching his fists against the table.
Viktor’s shoulders sagged. Finally, when he turned to look at Jayce, there was something undeniably soft in his gaze. “I know.” The fight left Jayce’s body the moment he heard those words, leaving something raw and aching in its place.
“You’re too good to me.” He reached out, his hand resting lightly against the curve of Viktor’s shoulder.
Predictably, Viktor didn’t let them have such a sweet moment for long. “I know,” he repeated.
Jayce laughed for the first time in days. “Asshole.”
Then, the door creaked open.
That was when Sky came in.
She hesitated in the doorway, her dark eyes flickering between the two men, hands tightening at her sides. Jayce told her, of course. With Viktor’s permission. It was awkward, halted. She hadn’t come to the lab the next day, or the day after. He’d half wondered if she’d show up again. He wouldn’t have blamed her. Jayce could hardly stand to be in a room where mortality loomed like a presence. Now, standing in front of them, she looked like she was still processing it all.
Viktor noticed her, and he smiled, a soft, tired one. That knowing sort of smile he used when he saw through people, when he understood them better than himself. “Ah, Ms. Young. It is good to see you.”
She let out a shaky breath and stepped forward. Closer now, Jayce noticed the red rims around her eyes. “I– yeah. Sorry, I should’ve– I just needed time.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Viktor nodded.
Sky had always been an awkward, bumbling woman, the kind of person whose thoughts always seemed to outpace her ability to voice them. Now, she looked lost in them. Then, before either of them could do anything, she moved, crossing the difference between them and throwing her arms around Viktor’s thin frame. Jayce tensed, but Viktor didn’t. Viktor let her. She buried her head in his shoulder, and Viktor – ridiculous man as he was – chuckled fondly.
“There, there,” he murmured, closing his eyes. “It’s not as if I’m dying tomorrow.”
Sky pulled back just enough to glare at him, her eyes wet. “Don’t joke about that.” The effect of her words were greatly diminished by how she went back to hugging him desperately.
Viktor only hummed, leaning into her touch like a cat sunbathing. His fingers curled lightly at her waist, like he was memorizing the warmth of her. “My apologies, Ms. Young.”
Sky wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. “I just– I don’t want you to…” She shook her head. She looked up at him, then, really looked at him. “I’m going to be here. I mean that.”
“Of course,” Viktor said. “I will hold you to that.”
After the sun set and Jayce managed to wrangle Viktor out of his workbench, Jayce sat down on the worn-out couch in his apartment, barely able to hold himself upright. A glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table beside him. Viktor was asleep in his bed in the other room, Jayce made sure of it. His breathing was shallow, but steady. The rise and fall of his chest was too slow for Jayce’s comfort, maybe. He’d spent the last thirty minutes sitting, pacing, watching over Viktor’s body, trying to somehow ensure it’d obey him just a while longer.
A knock on the front door nearly jolted Jayce out of his skin. He blinked, ran a hand over his face, and stood up, shuffling his feet over.
Mel Medarda looked the same. Always perfect, always shining in his eyes. Her lips were set tightly in an unreadable line that made Jayce ache. Today, though, there’s something else. Her gold jewelry catches on the light. She had always been effortlessly elegant, but now, for once, she looked hesitant.
Jayce didn’t say anything. He didn’t quite know how. He didn’t know whether to smile at her or cry or tell her that he was sorry, even though he knew that this wasn’t his to apologize for.
Mel made the decision for him, stepping inside. She closed the door behind her, and reached for him.
Jayce melted into her touch as she pressed her hands against his face. Her warm touch was grounding. For a moment, he just let himself exist in that space, in the quiet certainty of her presence, in the weight of her deft fingers against his jaw. Slowly, she pressed their foreheads together.
“I’m here,” she murmured, and Jayce shuddered. He gripped her wrists like they were his lifelines– poor choice of words. Like he was afraid to let go. His heart was a raw, exposed, pathetic thing. It beat too loud, too fast.
“I don’t know what to do,” he whispered.
Mel pulled back just enough to look at him properly. Her gaze traced the lines of the exhaustion clear on his face. “You stay,” she told him. It wasn’t an order, not really, but it wasn’t just a suggestion either. It was a reminder.
Jayce nodded.
She let go, sliding her hands down to clasp his. “How is he?” she asked. The very question made his heart ache. He wanted to say that Viktor was feeling the same as ever. He wanted to say that Viktor was getting worse. He wanted to say that he didn’t want to watch Viktor die.
Instead, he just looked deeply into her eyes, and said, “He’s tired.”
Mel nodded like she understood, and maybe she did. She always understood more than she let on. She glanced around the foyer and living space. “Can I see him?”
Jayce hesitated. Not because he didn’t want her there – God, of course he does – but because something about opening that door, about letting her step into that space, made it feel more real. More inevitable. Like saying it outloud makes it impossible to deny.
“Yeah,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Yeah, just let me wake Viktor up first.”
Jayce slipped quietly into the bedroom. The room was dark, the curtains drawn. Little slivers of moonlight bled through the cracks of them. In the center of the room; Viktor. Curled underneath the sheets, his head was buried in a pillow, hair somehow even more of a mess. Jayce stood at his bedside for a moment, then, gently, he reached out, brushing his fingers over Viktor’s arm, right above the sleeve of his nightshirt, something worn and too large for the lithe man he probably found in the furthest corners of Jayce’s wardrobe.
“V,” he murmured. “Wake up, babe.”
A short pause, and then a long sigh. Viktor shifted in bed, his eyelids fluttering open. At first, his gaze was unfocused, confused, until he registered the man in front of him. His gaze softened.
“Mmh. I was just having the most wonderful dream.” His lips lazily curled upward. “I dreamt I sawed off your head and replaced it with a metal one. You were finally quiet.”
Jayce bit out a laugh, though his throat felt too tight to manage much. “Sounds more like a nightmare.”
Viktor hummed in consideration. “Maybe.” He pressed his face further into the pillow and looked up at Jayce. “Why did you wake me up?”
“Mel’s here,” Jayce said. “She wants to see you.”
Viktor paused, only for a moment, before he nodded slowly.
Jayce sat on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to if you’re too tired,” he offered, though they both knew full well Viktor would never turn her away.
Viktor only sighed. “Help me up, won’t you?”
Jayce didn’t hesitate, and reached out for Viktor, his toned arms wrapped around him. He pulled him up slowly, guiding him up until he was seated on the edge of the bed beside him. Viktor’s hands gripped Jayce’s forearms for support tightly.
“You okay?” Jayce asked instinctively.
Viktor huffed. “I’m not made of glass, Jayce.”
Bitterly, Jayce thought Viktor might as well be. But he didn’t say it. He only nodded, reaching for the blue cashmere blanket he had brought from his family home to gently drape over Viktor’s shoulders before grabbing his crutch for him and pressing it lightly into his palm.
Then, Jayce stood. “Come on,” he said softly. “She’s waiting.”
Together, slowly, they made their way to the living room.
Mel stood near the window, silhouetted against the cityscape beyond. When she turned to see the two men, she smiled. “Viktor.”
Viktor managed a small smile in turn. “Ah, Councillor, I apologize for my slovenly appearance. I was not aware I’d warrant a house visit.”
“Not a Councillor right now,” she said. “Just Mel.”
“Then I suppose I should say it’s good to see you again, Mel.”
Jayce hovered near Viktor awkwardly, one hand pressed against his back, just in case. Viktor didn’t acknowledge it, but didn’t shake him off, either. Maybe he was pretending it wasn’t there. His dignity had always been the one thing Viktor refused to give up, even when his own body made a mockery of it. Mel stepped closer now, and reached out to take Viktor’s free hand in her own. “You should have told me sooner,” she told him.
Viktor’s expression shifted, something close to guilt crossing his features. “I did not want anyone to worry.”
“It’s too late for that,” Mel said simply, giving his hand a squeeze. “You know that, don’t you?”
Viktor pulled his hand away. Not a sharp motion, but deliberate, controlled. “I do not need your pity,” he said quietly.
Mel exhaled slowly. Then, instead of stepping back, she leaned forward and cupped his face in both hands as she had done with Jayce. Jayce’s heart was suddenly hammering in his ribs. “Pity?” Mel repeated. “Viktor, do you think that’s what this is?”
Viktor had frozen, shoulders rigid, his expression a cross between vulnerability and bratty defiance. “I think,” he said slowly, carefully, “that I have spent my entire life being underestimated, coddled, or entirely ignored. I think that you are simply being kind to a dying man.”
Mel’s thumbs brushed over his sharp cheekbones. Jayce couldn’t look away. “I am being kind to you.”
Viktor’s jaw clenched, his weight shifting towards Mel slightly like gravity had been tugging him forward. Something in him had gave, and he sighed, long and quiet. “Mel,” he said, voice almost too soft to hear.
“Yes, Viktor?”
“I am tired.”
“I know,” she responded. “That’s why I’m here.”
Jayce let out a sigh he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, hand still pressed against the other man’s back. Maybe it was more grounding for Jayce than Viktor. Mel’s eyes flickered to him, then. “And you?”
Jayce blinked. “What about me?”
“You look exhausted,” she commented, and Jayce laughed a bit, something wet at the edges.
“Yeah,” he admitted. “I guess.”
“Then let me be here,” she said, looking between the two of them. “For both of you.”
Viktor hummed, shifting beneath their touch. “I appreciate the sentiment, Mel,” he said, voice thick with the edges of sleep. “But I’m afraid I lack the energy to entertain you. I would much rather go back to bed.”
Mel laughed. “You don’t have to entertain me, Viktor. I just want to be here.”
Viktor scoffed lightly and turned his face to Jayce’s arm, resting his forehead against it. The touch was feather light, but each exhale of Viktor’s breath sent something deep into his chest. Jayce closed his eyes, and when he cracked them open again, he noted Mel was watching him unbearably gently.
“Come on.” She tipped her head towards their bedroom. “You both need to rest.”
Jayce nodded almost instinctively, shifting his grip to Viktor’s waist, steadying him as they moved together to bed. Viktor leaned into Jayce’s side as if it were the most natural thing in the world. To them, maybe it was. Mel followed, quick and certain.
The bed was soft, almost suffocating in the way it enveloped him. Jayce settled in first, Viktor’s weight pressed against his chest as he curled into him, bony fingers curling in the fabric of Jayce’s shirt. Mel slid in behind him, her warmth solid at his back. Her arm draped over his waist and she pressed herself close.
Jayce exhaled. He was cocooned between them, surrounded on all sides, and yet, his stomach still churned with something ugly, something restless. Because, what if? What if Viktor slipped away in his sleep? What if Jayce woke up to stillness, to nothingness, to the absence of breath against his skin? What if he wasn’t awake to see it happen? To stop it? To—
He grit his teeth, forcing the thoughts back. He wasn’t going to waste this, the moment, the warmth. The quiet little comfort of Viktor’s body against his and Mel’s fingers tracing circles into his hip.
“You’re stiff,” Mel whispered against his ear, breath tickling his skin.
Jayce let out a humorless laugh. “Well, hard to relax when you’re constantly on edge.”
Viktor shifted slightly, nose brushing the tip of Jayce’s neck. “You’re thinking too much,” he mumbled ironically, half asleep already.
“Yeah,” he admitted, because he knew he couldn’t deny it.
Mel’s hand moved to his chest. “Then don’t.”
Easy for her to say. Jayce didn’t know how to stop thinking, how to stop the constant tremor beneath his ribs. But then Viktor let out an exaggerated sigh, his body going slack against Jayce’s. Mel’s lips brushed against the back of his neck, barely even a kiss, but enough to make him shiver, to let him let go a little.
Right now, Viktor was alive, fingers twitching slightly where they rested against his chest, warm in his arms. Right now, Mel was there. Right now, they were together. Jayce let himself sink into their warmth.
Mel pressed one last kiss to his shoulder before settling against him fully, her breath going even.
In the morning, Jayce woke slowly, body stiff and mind still hazy with sleep. He didn’t move at first, not wanting to wake up Viktor. The man in question was still curled at his side, breathing in a slow, steady rhythm. Good, he was still there. Mel was behind him, leg hooked over his own. Jayce didn’t dare move. Not just because of his trapped limbs, but because, for once, in the past few hellish days, everything felt still.
Viktor stirred against him then, mumbling something incoherent and cracking open one of his eyes. His warm breath ghosted over Jayce’s skin, making his heart race a little faster. Viktor’s lips twitched wryly. “You are staring,” he noted, voice rough.
Jayce blinked, caught. “No, I’m—“
Viktor’s eyebrow raised. Jayce couldn’t look away.
“Yeah, I was staring. Can you blame a guy? You’re easy on the eyes.”
Mel laughed softly behind him, stirring now, too. She tightened her hold around Jayce’s waist for a moment before stretching her arms. She looked to them, her eyes bleary. “You boys are awake already?”
“Sadly,” Viktor said.
Jayce rolled his eyes in exasperation, but smiled anyway. He shifted his arm, wincing as the pins and needles set in. Viktor, thankfully, noticed and lifted his head, letting Jayce finally move.
“You let him cut off your circulation all night?” Mel asked.
“I was comfortable,” Viktor dryly responded for Jayce, moving to sit up properly. Jayce watched him closely as he moved, catching the slight wince escaping from his throat, the way he leaned into Jayce’s side.
“I’ll make coffee,” he offered, trying his best to sound jovial. “And breakfast.”
Viktor made a small noise — which was, frankly, adorable — of protest but Jayce was already getting out of bed, ignoring the way his body already missed theirs.
By the time they stumbled to the kitchen, Jayce could already hear Mel and Viktor’s tittering. Mel was teasing him about something, and Viktor was grumbling something in response. It was so normal. Jayce gripped the counter for support just for a moment, inhaling slowly before settling to work.
Coffee was easy; Viktor always inhaled the thing like he needed it to function, but breakfast was more of a battle. Viktor had never been a big eater, he was like a bird in that regard, always pecking and poking at it. But Jayce was determined. He placed a hearty plate of scrambled eggs, rice, and bread in front of Viktor who was sat at the table, and crossed his arms expectantly.
Viktor stared at it, then at him. “You are insufferable.”
“Eat,” Jayce said.
Mel settled in the chair beside him, sipping her coffee, clearly amused. “You should eat.”
Viktor sighed, but picked up his spoon. He took exactly three bites before declaring, “I am nourished.”
“Viktor…”
And Viktor smirked that damn smirk, eyes glinting with fondness despite his annoyance. It made Jayce smile as well. He was halfway through convincing Viktor to take another spoonful of food when there was a loud, rapid knock at the door. No one had the time to react when the thing swung open on its own, revealing a very determined Sky, arms gripping notebooks and loose papers. She had a piece of toast in her mouth. Jayce can’t remember when he gave her a spare key to his flat.
“Uh…”
Sky took the bread out of her mouth with her free hand and, without any preamble, said, “We need to talk.”
“So you missed me,” Viktor said, seemingly unfazed.
Sky rolled her eyes, stepping inside and kicking the door closed behind her. “Don’t start,” she said in reply, never denying the notion.
Mel sipped her coffee. “Is it a new trend to not knock?”
Sky dropped her stack of papers onto the kitchen table. “I did knock, technically,” she corrected. Then, with a glance towards Viktor, she added, “You’re up early.”
“Not by choice,” Viktor muttered, nudging his plate to the side.
Jayce gave Viktor a once-over, and then turned his attention back to Sky. “What’s all this?”
Sky sat down at the head of the circle table, flipping through her notebook. “Updates on the Hexgates. Some composition analysis, some equations I need you two to double check.” She then looked back at Viktor. “Also, I had some new ideas about the interference issues we’ve been having.”
The way Viktor immediately perked up made Jayce hold back a fond laugh. He was cranky, but the moment work came back into play, it was like a switch flipped in his head. Sky turned to a page of familiar, handwritten formula, and everyone leaned in, Viktor already scanning the notes with a reassuring sharpness in his gaze.
Mel shot Jayce an amused look over the rim of her cup, something of fondness towards the two hunched over in their seats, bouncing ideas off of each other, and Jayce smiled, watching them fall into an easy rhythm. Sky must’ve noticed the way Viktor’s hand trembled as he turned another page, because she nudged him gently with her arm and nodded her head towards his plate. “You should eat.”
Viktor groaned. “Not you too.”
“Yes, me too.”
“You heard her,” Jayce said, grinning.
Viktor shot them a look of utter betrayal, but took another bite of breakfast. Sky looked entirely pleased with herself.
He let them talk for a while, let the words fill the space between them. He let himself get lost in the sound of Viktor’s monotone voice, in the way Sky looked at him, both irritated and affectionate, like he was both the most brilliant and most impossible person she’d ever met. Which, to be fair, he was.
Mel nudged him under the table. “You’re staring again.” Jayce startled, scowling at her. Traitor. Mel only raised a perfectly-trimmed brow at him in response.
Eventually, he gave in, dragging a chair closer to the table and grabbing a pen, twirling it around in his fingers. “Alright,” he said, “what are we looking at?”
Sky barely glanced at him before launching into another explanation about something or the other, her hands drawing invisible equations in the air as she spoke. Jayce nodded along, adding his own thoughts here and there when Sky finally took a moment to catch her breath, letting himself sink into the work, into the comfort of the familiar.
And then, Viktor exhaled, small and quiet, and the next thing Jayce knew, there was a weight against his shoulder. Viktor, eyes half lidded, had apparently decided that he was the most convenient pillow in the room. Jayce went very, very still for him.
Sky paused mid sentence, her lips parting like she wanted to say something but forgot what. Her gaze flickered between them, something unreadable in her expression – Jayce thought he might’ve seen a bit of jealousy – before it finally cracked, her mouth twitching up in quiet, disbelieving giggles. “Seriously?”
Viktor, not bothering to open his eyes, simply muttered, “Keep talking. It is soothing.”
Sky groaned, throwing her hands up. “You’re impossible.”
Jayce, for his part, didn’t move. Wouldn’t move. Instead, he just shifted slightly, just enough to make sure Viktor was comfortable. He adjusted his arm so that it cradled Viktor’s shoulders a little more snugly, tucking him closer. Just enough that if he focused on the warmth pressed against his side, he wouldn’t have to think too hard about anything else.
Sky caught the motion, saw the quiet way Jayce’s fingers ghosted against Viktor’s sleeve, and something in her expression softened. She rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite in it. “If he starts drooling on you, it’s not my problem.”
Jayce huffed a laugh. “I’ll take my chances.” And just like that, the conversation resumed, although without Viktor’s clipped and precise way of speaking. The weight against his shoulder remained, a steady pressure that made Jayce’s chest feel lighter. And, for the first time in what felt like much too long, the morning didn’t feel so heavy.