Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

            Jayce stretches, shirtless in the kitchen, and Viktor watches him from his place on the couch, wondering how it is that a man can be so beautiful. He swallows the thought and his desire, closing his eyes against the glorious sight in front of him, half mad for being such a coward and half mad for being mad. It’s not like looking hurts anyone. It’s not like looking means anything.

            He peaks again, just as Jayce is pouring coffee grounds into the machine, followed by the water. He watches a single drop of it spill and run down Jayce’s forearm, beading at his elbow and then falling onto the counter. He gets the sudden urge to lick it off and decides that watching is too much and the way his heart is pounding in his chest is probably a bad sign. In fact, it’s the worst sign because it means that the drunken thoughts he’d been thinking last night were real enough to last and bleed into his sober thoughts. That he’s getting worse at suppressing them and making them less noticeable.  

            He’s suddenly glad that he rejected Jayce’s offer to sleep in his bed, with or without him. With Jayce beside him he isn’t sure he would’ve been able to keep his hands to himself and without him he’s sure that Jayce’s smell alone would have brought him to the brink of his sanity. The couch had been bad enough, its blanket imprinted with Jayce’s shape, the detritus of TV watching in his favourite corner seat, a mug dug out from between the cushions. He’d stayed awake imagining the late nights Jayce had spent here, unable to sleep, watching movies and texting Viktor until the burn behind his eyes was too strong to ignore. He’d stayed awake, imagining Jayce’s face, illuminated by the TV and the phone screen, smiling at their late night conversation, Viktor’s company, their friendship. He’d stayed awake thinking that it would be possible for them to do more than text on those nights, that now he could join Jayce on the couch and they could do more than chat, they could – he chases the thoughts out of his mind. Those were drunk thoughts, he reminds himself. They’re not meant for the daytime.

            Jayce, still in the kitchen, starts humming softly and the sticky, sickly sweet pit of affection in Viktor’s stomach begins to ache. It makes his fingers hurt, his toes hurt, even his teeth throb with it. He wants to – he wants to – he doesn’t know what he wants to do. Drunk thoughts. Drunk thoughts, drunk thoughts, drunk thoughts. But the more he thinks them the more it becomes apparent that they’re not drunk thoughts at all. Not even a little bit.

He doesn’t know if the feelings are reciprocated, doesn’t know if he should bring them up before he moves into Jayce’s apartment, doesn’t know if he should bring them up at all, ever. Maybe they’ll fester inside him forever. Maybe they’ll spill out when he isn’t paying attention. Maybe living with Jayce again, after the few years apart will change his mind. Maybe Jayce has turned into a slob, maybe Jayce has forgotten how to take care of himself, maybe Viktor will get angry with picking up the slack, maybe –

There’s a clatter in the kitchen, and Jayce whispers, “Shit, fuck,” before another, louder clatter. A low, slow groan.

Viktor sits up, unable or unwilling to pretend to sleep through the racket. “Jayce?” He asks, and Jayce whirls towards him, looking sheepish.

“Shit, sorry, V, did I wake you? I’m sorry, the fuck – the pans, I didn’t put the pans back right and they kind of just –” he motions falling with his hands “– went everywhere.” When Viktor doesn’t answer immediately, he says, “I was going to make eggs and bacon.”

Viktor can’t suppress his grin. Idiot, he wants to spout, stupid idiot. Look at you, look at you, look at you. He doesn’t. He restrains himself, barely. “Don’t worry, I was already awake. Eggs and bacon sounds lovely.”

Jayce nods, evidently pleased with himself. “Don’t expect this kind of treatment every morning,” he warns, turning back to the mess on the floor. “But I figured while we’re getting you settled it might be nice to take care of you. I know moving stresses you out.”

Sticky. Sweet. Teeth. Fucking shit, stupid stupid stupid stupid. “I – um,” Viktor stammers, not sure of what the right response is. “Yeah. Um, thank you. I appreciate it, Jayce. It means a lot that you’re even letting me move in.”

“Oh, nonsense.” Jayce waves off his concern over his shoulder. “It would be nonsense for you to live anywhere else, wouldn’t it?”

Would it? Jayce and Viktor were lab partners in their first year of undergrad, and then roommates for the rest of their degrees. Viktor had moved back to Zaun when they graduated, but they’d stayed close – closer than Viktor thought they would – and now, several years later, after a messy break up, Viktor’s moving back to Piltover to pursue his masters. He’d asked if he could stay at Jayce’s while he was house hunting, but Jayce had said he was ridiculous, and told him that he could have the spare room. The spare room he uses as his office when he needs to work from home. The spare room that he’s filled to the brim with books and Lego figurines. The spare room that’s now hosting several boxes of Viktor’s things, too, because Jayce had been so busy with work he hadn’t yet had the energy to clear his own stuff out.

“I guess,” he concurs, not wholly convinced. “I still don’t know where we’re going to put everything.”

Jayce, now illuminated by the glow of the refrigerator, digging through its contents for eggs, shrugs. “We’ll find space,” he says, unworried. “And if we don’t, then I guess I’ll get a storage unit or we could move into a bigger place.” He stacks the ingredients in his arms and closes the fridge door with his foot, turning to grin at Viktor again, completely and totally unaware that Viktor’s pulse is thundering so hard through his veins he’s worried that somehow he’s about to have a heart attack.

Cause of death: Jayce, making breakfast and spewing nonsense.

Cause of death: Jayce, looking like an angel in the fridge light.

Cause of death: Jayce casually confessing he’d move his entire life to stay with Viktor.

Cause of death: Jayce, just. Jayce.

“You’re staring,” Jayce murmurs, after a few moments, grin bigger, showing off the gap between his teeth. He looks, for a moment, exactly like the goofball kid Viktor had first met him as. He looks, for a moment, like the entire world wrapped in warm, soft skin.

Viktor swallows. “Sorry,” he says, forcing himself to look away. To ignore whatever it is that just happened in his traitorous chest. “I think we can probably make it work without having to look for another place. I – are you sure you’d – I mean, storage lockers are expensive, aren’t they?”

            Jayce waves him off with a hand. “Let me worry about that. I’m the one with the job, remember?” He’d stayed in university and had graduated with his masters the year before, now onto his PhD. Aside from his – sponsored – research, he’s a TA in several labs and courses, enjoying teaching now nearly as much as his studies, even if it comes at the cost of hours of marking and email responding. Viktor has heard rumours, mostly from Sky, that the students fight for his lab sections and lectures and not only because he’s hot, but because he’s considerate. He's animated. He teaches well.

            Gods on gods, Viktor could kiss him. He’s not even talking about teaching with the usual warmth he emits and Viktor could kiss him. He’s half naked in the kitchen, about to burn himself with bacon grease and Viktor could smother him.

            Perhaps living together was a bad idea, but there was no way Viktor would have been able to deny him. Not without mentioning it or hurting Jayce’s feelings.

            “How are you feeling this morning?” Jayce asks, after a moment of adjusting the stove settings and sending bacon into a pan with a sizzle. “You were pretty tipsy last night.”

            Viktor groans. He’s not used to drinking anymore, and the wine that Jayce bought had been cheap, fruity, exactly the way he likes it and exactly the kind most likely to give him a hangover. There’s a dull ache in the back of his skull but it’s nothing compared to watching Jayce, so he hasn’t been paying it any mind. “I’m okay,” he says, “I think you gave me enough water to fight off the worst of it.”

            “Mm, you’re welcome,” Jayce coos, just to annoy him. “I started the coffee, it’ll be ready soon. You need anything else while I’m in here?”

            Viktor shakes his head. He pushes the blanket off himself and reaches for the cane he’s stashed on the floor beside the couch, finding it half pushed under by his clumsy hands the night before. “No, thanks,” he vocalizes when he clocks Jayce still watching him. “I’m gonna brush my teeth. Get the grime off of me.”

            “Yeah, yeah, grimy man on my couch,” Jayce says, going back to his task. “Or, I guess, grimy man on our couch, hey?”

            Viktor blinks at him, but he’s not paying attention anymore. He has the sudden and urgent need to tell Jayce everything, to bare his soul right here, right now. He has the sudden urge to burst into tears. He’ll never know what he did to deserve Jayce and his easy kindness, his easy love. He doesn’t know why he’s stuck wanting more and more and more like a greedy glutton. What is wrong with him that makes this not enough?

            “Our couch,” he echoes, incredulous. Our apartment, our things, our life together. As roommates and friends and nothing more.

            He doesn’t realize he’s crying until Jayce is kneeling beside him, one hand on his arm, the other on the thigh of his bad leg, gentle so as not to hurt him. He doesn’t know why he’s crying, either. He’s not sure what the trigger was, just that it happens a lot, in the aftermath. His illness, his breakup, not sure when or where he was, not sure if he was going to live to be happy and healthy again, terrified that the hole in the wall apartment he’d lived in with his ex who only stayed out of obligation would be the end.

            It’s nice to have a future again. A place where he’s welcome, where the things are theirs and not just theirs until Viktor dies.

            “What’s up?” Jayce asks quietly, “Anything I can help with?”

            God, god god. He wants to crawl into Jayce’s arms and stay there for an eternity. Instead he shakes his head. “Just gotta feel it,” he whispers, and Jayce squeezes his limbs, leaning forward to press his cheek against Viktor’s knees.

            Viktor nearly gasps at the contact, and then he reaches out, brushes his fingers through Jayce’s hair, digs them into his scalp.

            “I’m glad you’re here, V,” Jayce whispers, and Viktor agrees.

            “Me too,” he says. Everything he’s been through and now this. This. Jayce. A place together. School together. Things like they should be, except they could be more. Except Viktor always wants more.

            He makes a vow to himself, right there on the couch, that he won’t ask for more. That he’ll be content here, just like this. Jayce adores him anyways, and why would he want to change that, why would he want to run the risk of ruining it? He won’t. He won’t he won’t he won’t.

Chapter Text

Jayce sits in front of his laptop, staring the last term paper for his summer class, unable to process any of the words. Instead, his mind replays the events that occurred over the weekend, the 48 blissful hours he’d had Viktor all to himself for the first time in months, maybe even years. He’d gone to see Viktor when he was ill, of course he had, and he would have gone more, stayed longer, if it weren’t for Salo’s jealous presence pressing against the walls and making him claustrophobic. Making him feel unwelcome and making Viktor feel small. Apparently he was better when Jayce wasn’t around but Jayce isn’t sure how much of that was Viktor making excuses and how much was the truth.

            When it finally came, Jayce could have cried happy tears at the breakup – not only did Viktor live through his illness, he broke up with the asshole who’d been treating him poorly for so long – and when Viktor asked to move in temporarily while he was between places Jayce had been over the moon with delight. When Viktor agreed to make it permanent, Jayce hadn’t been able to wipe the smile off his face for days and everyone around him had noticed. His students, his friends, his mother, they’d all asked and when he’d told them, it’d been like he’d given them the answer to a secret they’d already suspected.

            Jayce and Viktor, together again. Viktor and Jayce, roommates.

            Viktor, alive and healthy, sans Salo. Sans everything that had been making him miserable in his other life. In the life he’d insisted he wanted when he moved back to Zaun, away from the things he’d built for himself.

            Jayce had understood why he needed to go back and he’d never held it against him, but there was also a tiny voice in his head that whispered why did you have to leave me? But he’d never let the words pass his lips, would never. Technology existed, so they’d stayed in touch. Zaun was only an hours drive away, so they’d visited. It’d been easier than he’d thought and then Salo.

            Fucking Salo.

            He knows, out of all the terrible people Viktor could have chosen, Salo wasn’t the worst, but he was selfish and insecure and from the moment Viktor had his diagnosis he’d wanted to run. He’d wanted to abandon Viktor, and for that Jayce could never forgive him. Sometimes, the little voice in his brain wishes that Salo had abandoned Viktor in the early stages, so that Jayce could have been there instead. So he could have been more useful.

            It doesn’t matter now, though. Now Viktor is healthy again, he’s moving in, he’s going back to school. They might not be working together per se, but they’ll be in the same building, they’ll likely be able to see each other for lunch and coffee, they’ll be at home together. Jayce can cook for Viktor and keep an eye on him and make sure that he isn’t relapsing, that the cancer in his lungs is gone for good. He knows that there’s a chance it will come back. He’s looked at the numbers. He’s looked at the warning signs. He’s gone out and bought a top of the line air purifier to live in the living room, and another for Viktor’s room if he’ll have it.

            He sometimes wishes that he’d chosen a different field of study, one that might be more helpful to Viktor than engineering, but with the Grey that there are many, many dedicated scholars looking for cures. He just has to trust them, something made easier by one of them being Sky. Sky, whose experimental treatment had likely saved Viktor. Sky, who’s brilliant and one of their closest friends.

            He locks his laptop, and slides it into his bag, realizing that he’s not going to get anything else done while he’s here and he probably won’t when he gets home. Maybe if Viktor has something he needs to do they can body double like they used to, each of them in their own little world, working side by side.

            There’s a tide of missing Viktor, and it washes over him endlessly, leaving him itchy in his skin and nostalgic for the way that it used to be. Even now, when Viktor is at home unpacking, he feels it. It’ll get better, he thinks, I’ll get used to having him around again.

**

            Viktor is pushing the grocery cart, his cane in the basket, deftly comparing the prices between store and name brand canned lentils when Jayce is overwhelmed by affection. There’s nothing in this world he wants to do more than press his palm against the small of Viktor’s back, to feel the mechanism of his brace, the warmth of him under it, alive with him, here in the bean aisle.

            It’s absurd. He wants to claw his own heart out of its place in his chest and slam it on the floor so it stops. Stupid thing would probably only crawl across the tile to Viktor, anyways. Stupid thing, always betraying him.

            Viktor turns, brandishing the store brand lentils. “They’re like a tenth of a cent cheaper per gram,” he says, his eyes golden under the store lights. “Do you have a preference?”

            Whatever you want, rises to his lips immediately, a sentiment that goes far further than lentil prices. He swallows it down and reaches over to pluck the can from Viktor’s fingers, setting it down gently in the cart. “That one’s good,” he says, giving Viktor a little nod, unaware that he’d gotten so close and accidentally brushing against Viktor’s arm.

            Viktor lets out the tiniest noise of surprise and suddenly Jayce’s mind is alive with the idea of kissing him. Kissing him and kissing him and kissing him until Viktor is putty in his hands, until Viktor has some semblance of what he means to Jayce. He reaches out to do something, he’s not sure what, Viktor’s face upturned towards him, surprise and acceptance written through the arch of his eyebrows and then – and then

            “Hm, um excuse me?” From behind him, snapping them both back into the real world. The real world where there’s an old woman clutching a shopping basket and looking both amused and annoyed at their lingering presence in front of the beans.

            “Sorry! Yes!” Jayce blurts, grabbing the other can of lentils Viktor had been holding and throwing it in the cart, and then (finally) putting his hand on Viktor’s back, urging him forwards, out of the way.

            Once they’re safe, Jayce moves his hand, though it lingers for maybe a second too long, and Viktor looks up at him conspiratorially, his cheeks red but a smile on his face, and they both burst into laughter. Loud, juvenile laughter that makes Jayce weak in the knees, that makes him forget where they are because all that matters is Viktor, filled with joy.

            All that matters is that Viktor is here. That they’re together.

            Nothing could be as important as this. Nothing.

            It doesn’t matter what I feel, he tells himself as they line up for the check out, urging Viktor forward before he can dare to get his card out. As long as I get this with him, I don’t care if it’s unrequited. I don’t care about anything else.

             Closer to the car, Viktor relinquishes cart duty, grabbing his cane and mumbling an excuse for not helping load the bags, as he always has. Jayce rolls his eyes, but it’s a show of annoyance rather than any real feeling, and he does his given task with gusto, excited to get back into the vehicle with Viktor, to go back to their home. Theirs!

            Viktor had spent the day unpacking and integrating his things with Jayce’s and when Jayce had walked in after work, he’d been sitting on the couch, listening to music with noise-cancelling headphones and frowning at something on his laptop, a sweet-smelling candle burning on the coffee table in front of him.

            The sight had killed Jayce dead. He’d nearly dropped to his knees right then and there.

            He returns the cart to its family and climbs into the driver’s seat. “You good?” He asks Viktor, feeling his gaze.

            Viktor sighs. “The Marketplace guy fell through on the mattress.”

            “I – you were going to buy a mattress on Marketplace?”

            “Beats sleeping on the floor, doesn’t it?” Viktor says, matter of fact. Finances are something he doesn’t like to talk about, understandably. “I can’t afford – I can’t afford a brand new one, and it’s not like I’d buy it blind. And we’d have to clean it first, obviously.”

            Jayce blinks at him. He realizes that Viktor didn’t come to Piltover with any furniture at all, meaning that Salo must have kept everything they bought together. “I can loan –”

            “No.” The denial is immediate. There’s a spark of annoyance in Viktor’s eyes, as if Jayce even suggesting such a thing is deplorable. “I will buy my own mattress, thank you. I just might need help when we pick it up.”

            Jayce nods. “Yeah, ‘course. We can strap it to the roof or something. Maybe we can borrow a trailer. Are you okay on the couch in the meantime? We can switch out, if you need – if it’s better for you.” He doesn’t want to draw out the conversation. He’ll help where he’s welcome.

            There’s no response for a moment, so Jayce turns on the car, backs out of the parking spot. His music plays lowly in the background, something soft and calming.

            “I am okay on the couch,” Viktor says, but Jayce knows it’s a lie. It took too long for him to form the words. It took too long for him to convince himself what he was about to say was right.

            “Have the bed. I’ll change the sheets when we get home. There’s no sense in hurting your back when we have a solution.” He pulls onto the highway. “Besides, I’ve spent lots of nights on the couch. What’re a few more?”

            Viktor’s gaze on the side of his face is warm and he fights to stay focused on the road. Don’t look at me like that, he wants to say, imagining Viktor’s building annoyance. You’d do the same, given the circumstances.

            “Fine,” Viktor breathes, sinking into the worn passenger seat, looking out the windshield. “Fine. You win. I’ll take the bed.”

            “Good.”

            “Good.”

            “Wanna get ice cream?”

            “We just bought groceries, Jayce.”

            Jayce tips his head towards Viktor, grinning. “Yeah, so we can afford to treat ourselves.”

            A beat, and then, “Yes, I want to get ice cream.”

            Jayce’s grin only gets bigger.

Chapter Text

            It’s been a week of living together in Jayce’s apartment, which Jayce has never, not a single time referred to as anything but theirs. It warms Viktor’s heart, to feel loved so generously again after so long walking on coals with Salo. Every time Jayce gets off the couch to grab something for him or lets him stretch out his legs by resting them over his own he thinks he could cry. Every meal that Jayce cooks – he’d lied when he said not to expect breakfasts all the time – and the rides Jayce gives him to pick up things he’s found on Marketplace to replace what Salo took, they all bring him closer to professing his undying and undeniably non-platonic feelings.

            He’s sure that Jayce had been about to kiss him in the bean aisle getting groceries, and there have been other times where the other, taller man had been suspiciously close. Times that Jayce had acted so strangely he can’t even try to explain away.

            Times like the night before when they’d been laying in Jayce’s bed – Viktor still hasn’t found a mattress – because his hip and knee ached so the couch was out of the question and Jayce had been scrolling on his phone, his summer classes finished. Viktor was reading, Jayce’s broad shoulder shoved up against his ribcage, his elbow over Jayce’s collarbone. Something that should not have been as comfortable as it was.

            Jayce laughed at something that came up on his feed, the action vibrating through into Viktor, and he’d put his book down, curling himself closer to Jayce so he could share. He’d put his hand on Jayce’s head and reached out with his other to take the phone, finding something so incredibly unfunny it wasn’t worth remembering. “Your sense of humour is broken,” he’d told Jayce, handing back the phone and scraping against Jayce’s scalp with his fingernails.

            The noise Jayce made alarmed them both. Halfway between a moan and a whimper.

            “You like this?” Viktor had asked, not stopping, and Jayce had nodded.

            “Feels good,” he whispered, turning his face towards Viktor.

            And they had stayed like that for a long time, Viktor playing with Jayce’s hair and Jayce continuing his scrolling, hands up so they could both watch.

            Which isn’t abnormal, not really. They do most things together now – did most things together when they were roommates before – but the noise that had come out of Jayce’s mouth. It had been so unexpected, so desperate. Viktor had to shut off the line of thinking that brought to mind other things he could do with his hands to elicit it.

            Even now, curled up on the couch waiting for their friends to arrive for his welcome home dinner, he can hear it clearly. It’s driving him mad with want.

            As much as he loves their proximity, it’s making it hard to stick to his promise. He feels very close to doing something stupid, and they’re drinking tonight. Jayce has left him to pick up that wine he likes, with the fruits and some beer for himself, because he has an image to keep up, even though Viktor and all his friends know he prefers the fruit wine anyways. Someone will end up drinking whatever shitty IPA he comes home with – probably Vi. Her tolerance for bad beer is endless and mildly impressive.

            Jayce was worried that Viktor wouldn’t be up to seeing anyone. He’d slept poorly because of his leg acting up, cramping in the night and was crabby in the morning, but he’d found a patch of sunlight on the bed in the afternoon and had napped, waking up refreshed by some miracle.

            He’s excited for the party. He hasn’t seen Cait or Vi since he started treatments for his illness, and he hasn’t seen Sky since he stopped them. Even Mel is supposedly coming, something to which he’d opened his mouth to express his surprise (she’s hardly ever in town, between her research and her mother) and Jayce had looked at him seriously, his eyebrows drawn together.

            “You know she cares about you, Vik,” he’d said before he could get a word out and he’d only been able to nod in amusement.

            Mel is the only person he’s ever seen Jayce take a romantic interest in. They’d dated a bit in undergrad then broken up and drifted apart. From what Jayce told him it was mutual and there were no hard feelings. They met again when Jayce was starting his master’s and their research overlapped, apparently hooking up a few times and then staying in contact.

            She used to be at their old place all the time and while Viktor hadn’t been jealous, he’d felt that she was being overly protective of her role as Jayce’s girlfriend. He didn’t even think that she noticed at the time. She was friendly enough to him, and they never had a problem, but when Viktor had brought it up with Jayce, Jayce had taken it to mean he thought Mel didn’t like him. He’s never been able to convince Jayce that it wasn’t the truth, which he thinks is ridiculous. They still send each other memes for god’s sakes.

            There’s a thump at the door, which sends Viktor scrambling up, only to hear a key try and fail to find home in the lock.

            “Oh, come on,” Jayce says, loudly, from the hallway.

            Viktor pushes himself off the couch, grabbing his cane from the coffee table and making his way to the kitchen. Jayce spills in, carrying two bottles of wine in one hand and a grocery bag of snacks and frozen appetizers in the other, a six-pack of beer swinging off his pinky.

            “I could have come down to help,” Viktor frowns as Jayce drops everything on the counter.

            “Absolutely not,” Jayce replies, turning to grin at him. “We die like men around here.”

            Viktor raises his eyebrows and Jayce rolls his eyes. He’s sweaty, dressed in a red t-shirt and athletic shorts that are a hair too tight on his thighs. Viktor tries not to stare.

            “I would’ve asked if I’d needed it,” Jayce says, softer this time. He puts a big hand on Viktor’s shoulder as he brushes by him to ditch his shoes and fanny pack by the door. “Trust me.”

            His sincerity is believable, so Viktor lets it slide. He pulls out the baking sheet for the appetizers, sees that they’re spring rolls and mozza sticks and he opens his mouth to tease Jayce about the phallic-ness of his offerings but changes his mind when he turns to look at Jayce, putting the alcohol in the fridge.

            Jayce is good at hiding his bulk, making himself look smaller, more approachable. He usually wears formal clothes or long sleeves and sometimes no shirt at all, but here in the tiny kitchen in a t-shirt he seems larger than usual. His arms bulge out of his sleeves, his pectorals visible through the form-hugging fabric. Viktor swallows, and then swallows again, the sudden image of his skull between the muscles of Jayce’s forearm and bicep, between the hinge of his elbow burns itself into his eyelids.

            “Stare much?” Jayce says, after far too long, and Viktor snaps out of it, flustered.

            “Yeah – um – sorry, I was just – thinking about –”

            Jayce, grinning wickedly, cuts him off. “About how I should probably shower before our guests arrive?”

            Viktor nods, ashamed. “Yeah,” he mutters, going back to his task. “That’s it. Exactly.”

            On his way through the kitchen Jayce leans in close to Viktor, so close he can feel his breath on the back of his neck, and it sends a shiver down his spine. “You’re allowed to look, you know.” And then he’s gone before Viktor has even processed the words, let alone what they could mean.

            You’re allowed to look, you know.

            In what way? In what capacity? If he’s allowed to look does that mean he’s allowed to dream, too? To imagine, again, Jayce’s arm around his face? His own hand tracing the deep divot of Jayce’s triceps? Certainly not. Absolutely not.

            He puts the spring rolls in the oven, decidedly ignoring their phallic-ness.

**

            Jayce comes back into the kitchen smelling like vanilla and smoky cologne, his hair still wet. He’s wearing a long-sleeve button up and jeans and when Viktor works up the nerve to look at him he grins mischievously.

            “Wouldn’t want you losing your cool,” he says, and Viktor’s face heats. Jayce pulls out a seat at the island, across from him.

            “Thought you said I was allowed to look,” he mutters, busying his hands by pouring himself a glass of wine. He doesn’t like this. Doesn’t like how close it is to toeing the line between platonic and romantic, how Jayce teasing him like this makes his stomach squirm pleasantly. More more more, it wants, and he doesn’t know how to shut it off.

            “Maybe less so in company, hm?” Jayce gestures at the wine. “Could I get a glass too?”

            What is happening? Viktor thinks. “You worried they’ll get the wrong idea?” He turns to reach the glasses in the cupboard and hands one to Jayce with the bottle.

            “No,” he says, “they already think we’re dating, or that we will eventually.” The teasing has left his voice. Now he’s just stating fact.

            “Ridiculous,” Viktor states.

            Jayce looks up at him while he pours his wine, something dark and undecipherable passing through his gaze. Something troubling. “Ridiculous,” he concedes. The bottle hits the counter a little too hard.

            There’s a moment of silence in which a heaviness hangs in the air, looming over them, and Viktor is just about to say something to break it when the oven timer goes off and does the job for him. He blinks at Jayce, startled, and Jayce only stares back at him, his eyes bright amber in the harsh kitchen light.

            What are you thinking of right now? He wants to ask, what am I missing?

            The oven beeps again and he tears his gaze away, heart thudding all the way up his throat. It’s only been a week, he tells himself, and look at how poorly I’ve been doing at keeping it bottled up. Does he feel the same? Does he know how I feel? Is he just trying to get a ruse out of me?

            It’s frustrating and annoying. Viktor wishes that Jayce wouldn’t play with him like this, but he can’t tell Jayce why. Their friends thinking they’re dating isn’t new. It doesn’t mean anything. Viktor staring at Jayce’s muscles isn’t new, but being caught is. He’s usually more cautious and he’ll have to get more cautious again. He might not hold up if this happens a second time. He might let something slip.

            Would it be so terrible? Says a small voice in the back of his mind. Even if it’s unrequited, Jayce would be so gentle in rejecting me. We could come back from it.

            He won’t, though. He knows it. He’s too scared of losing Jayce. He’s too scared of it working out and it ending, somehow, just how he and Salo ended.

            No. He’s not going to think of Salo tonight.

            Tonight is for him and Jayce and the friends they love. Salo doesn’t matter anymore.

            He pulls out the spring rolls and dumps them in a bowl in the microwave to help them stay warm. He replaces them in the oven with the mozza sticks, focusing doggedly on his task and not the feeling of Jayce’s gaze on his shoulders.

            “I’m going to play music,” Jayce says, after a moment. “What kind of playlist do you think?”

            The moment, whatever it was, is over. Things are back to normal. Viktor can breathe easy again.

**

            He doesn’t have to worry for long. Mel is the first through the door at exactly 6:30, wearing a long white trench coat and looking luminous. Viktor forgot how beautiful she is, how she brings life and joy into the room with her.

            She allows Jayce to remove her coat, and then all but launches herself into Viktor’s arms for a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you,” she says, squeezing him tight against herself.

            “Oh, it’s good to see you too,” he murmurs, the ache of having missed her sharp against his bones.

            She pulls away from him and kisses both of his cheeks and then pulls him down so she can kiss his forehead too. He smiles at her, embarrassed by how much he’s enjoying her forwardness.

            His eyes catch on her septum ring and he motions towards his own nose. “This is new,” he says and she laughs.

            “Oh, that! That was about a year ago now? I just needed something different.”

            Viktor nods. He understands needing something new. “It looks great,” he compliments.

            “Thank you! See, Jayce, that’s how you react!” She turns to him, teasing.

            “What did you say?” Viktor asks, raising his eyebrows at Jayce who’s watching the banter with a fond expression.

            “He said I look like a rebelling teenager,” Mel fills in.

            Jayce shrugs, unaffected. “Am I wrong?”

            Mel rolls her eyes. “I suppose the spirit of needing something different is similar to rebellion. Is this what you two are drinking? Oh – I brought you a little something, Viktor. A house-warming gift.” She smooths down the front of her dress before turning to dig in the pockets of her coat, producing a small red gift-wrapped package and presenting it to Viktor with a barely contained glee.

            Viktor takes the present and holds it in the palm of his hand, hesitant. He looks from Mel to Jayce, who quietly mimes unwrapping, and then circles his finger to show that Viktor should get on with it. Viktor, still unsure, not used to receiving presents, swallows.

            “Should I open this now?” He asks Mel, and she nods her head with excitement.

            “Please do,” she replies, and Viktor looks back to Jayce, who’s seated himself back at the island. “It won’t bite you, Vik,” she says, gentler, leaning forwards on the balls of her feet.

            “I –” he starts, about to defend himself, and then he stops. He leans his hip against the counter and hangs his cane over his opposite forearm and peels the tape up, unfolding the paper so it doesn’t rip and unveiling a small photo book.

            He’s not sure what he was expecting, but it wasn’t this. He leans heavier against the counter and runs his fingers over the inscription on the front. Vik & Friends, 2018 – and looks questioningly at Mel.

            “There’s room to add some more in the back,” she says, “now that we’re all together again. Open it, open it!”

            He does and the first photo that he and Jayce ever took together stares back at him, both freshly 18 and baby-faced, not yet ready for what the world is going to throw at them. He flips to the next page where all three of them are on the couch, Mel leaning against Jayce and Viktor with his legs spread over their laps, turning to the camera with a double thumbs up and a shit-eating grin – the first time they’d all hung out together. The next few are of Cait and Vi and him playing pool at their old favourite haunt, and then he and Vi smoking on the deck of their first place. One of him and Jayce cooking together, one of him sleeping open-mouthed on Mel’s shoulder in the back of Jayce’s car, on the way to Jayce’s family’s place for Thanksgiving, one of Cait leaning over to adjust his pool cue position in The Last Drop, one of all of them and Jinx in front of her first real art exhibit, one of he and Jayce in the low light of a campfire, Viktor laughing and Jayce looking at him like he’s hung the moon. He traces it lightly, wondering how it is he hasn’t seen this one, before flipping to the blank pages.

            There’s fondness swelling like a balloon against the inside of his ribs, and when he closes it and blinks back into the real world, it bursts. “Mel,” he says, “this is incredible! Thank you so much!” He’s not sure that he can even begin to convey how much it means to him, to be reminded of his friends, his family, his community. To be loved by so many, when he’d been so isolated the past years.

            Mel steps forward, opening her arms and enveloping him in a hug once again. She squeezes him so tightly he can hardly breathe. “I’m just happy we get to keep filling it,” she whispers, “I missed you, more than I think I even knew.”

            He closes his eyes. Breathes in her floral perfume. Is held for a moment, and then two. “I missed you too.”

            When he pulls away, Jayce is smiling softly to himself.

**

Cait and Vi don’t even knock when they show up, ten minutes later. Vi shoves her way through the door and holds up a paper bag that says ANOMALLY CANNABIS, loudly announcing that she’s brought the good stuff.

            Jayce coughs. “Vi, do you really think –” he starts but she cuts him off.

            “We got a drink for Ole Wheezy,” she says, grinning at Viktor before offering him a hug that he happily accepts.

            “Ole Wheezy?” He asks, and she nods.

            “Yeah, that’s you forever, buddy. No more pre-rolls.” She pushes the bag into his chest and then moves on.

            “Viktor,” Cait inclines her head. He gets another bone-crushing hug. “Missed you.”

            “Missed you too,” he whispers, savoring it.

            “Okay, okay,” Vi announces, pulling him away from Cait, “time to get high. Come on, I’m stealing you for now. We need to get caught up.”

            “I want to talk to him, too,” Cait complains, but Vi waves her away.

            “Later. I called dibs in the truck. C’mon, V. Just you and me and this baggie here and the balcony. Anyone else objects they’ll get their toes stomped on.” And then Vi is leading him away from their friends, through the living room and out onto the balcony, firmly closing the door behind her.

            “Sky’s not even here yet,” Viktor says, “I – I should be there when she gets in, shouldn’t I?”

            Vi shrugs. “You’ve seen her the most out of all of us, you can say hi when we’re done.”

            There’s a logic to her argument. Besides, he’s already out here – what’s the harm in partaking? “Sure, okay.” He sinks into one of the chairs and Vi passes him an infused iced tea.

            “Wasn’t sure what your tolerance was at,” she remarks, lighting up her own joint. “Went with the lowest just in case.”

            “Probably for the better.” He cracks it open.

            “How are you doing?”

            “In what sense?”

            She inhales. Exhales. Looks at him. Looks right through him. “Every sense.”

            “It’s nice to be back.”

            “But?”

            “Living with him is excruciating.” He takes a sip. “I’m scared to be going back to school. I miss – ”

            “Don’t you dare say Salo.”

            “ – Zaun.” He frowns at her. “I don’t miss Salo. I – I miss the future we had planned together, in the beginning, but I know that was off the table as soon as I got sick.”

            She nods. Takes a hit. “Good. Have you talked to Jayce about anything?”

            “No.”

            “Will you?”

            He thinks about it again, how easy the rejection would come. How it’d be nice to clear the tension.

            At the very core of himself, he’d like to think he’s brave but he knows he’s a coward. He won’t tell Jayce anything, ever. “No.”

            “You should get out there, then. See if anyone else sticks.”

            “Don’t know if I can.” Salo had been a distraction from Jayce, when they’d first started going out, and look how that had gone. He’s not sure if he’s willing to try again.

            Vi sighs and collapses into the chair beside him. “You two are hopeless,” she murmurs.

            There’s silence for a moment while she smokes and he drinks, both contemplating. Viktor wants to say more on the matter, but he isn’t sure how much more Vi can put up with his baseless whining and yearning. She’s much more of an action person and can’t seem to understand why he won’t or can’t approach Jayce.

            She’d been one of his main supports when he was sick, as she works with the at-risk youth in Zaun. She’d brought him to appointments when Salo “forgot” and Jayce wasn’t able to, and she’d made sure he was fed through The Last Drop’s Community Giving Program. They’d spent a lot of time together in Vi’s truck, Viktor shivering through two sweaters and the heater after chemo, trying not to spew on her dashboard so that he wouldn’t have to deal with Salo’s pestering. She’d come with him to get his wheelchair rental when he’d been too weak to walk with his cane, near what he thought was the end of his life and she’d weathered the fallout from it when he’d brought it home. He can still hear Salo’s grating voice telling him how inconvenient he was making things and asking how he could dare expect Salo to make accommodations for him and his new mobility aid. How dare he ask Salo to help him with it, with anything. Shouldn’t he be grateful that Salo even let him live here, in this apartment that he paid equal rent for.

            Vi had slept beside him, when Jayce couldn’t. When it was bad.

            When he hadn’t thought he’d wake up again in the morning.

            He’s forever grateful. He loves her more than he thought he could ever love anyone.

            She offers him her joint. “I won’t tell him,” she says, co-conspiratorially, but he shakes his head.

            “I don’t want to risk it coming back.”

            “Ah.”

            They’ve both watched the devastating creep of cancer, the toxic air of their home and its ability to ruin lungs and hearts and circulatory systems. Viktor’s survival was rare, and those who do make it through as he has are often cut down for a second time, unable to recover. He’s a ticking time bomb and no one likes to admit it, but they all know. They all know.

            “How are you doing?” He asks after a moment, and she sighs.

            “Work’s not going well. Our program is getting some significant budget cuts, but I think we’ll be okay, mostly. Might lose a co-worker or two but I’ve made myself irreplaceable.” She finishes her joint and shakes another one out of the package, lighting it gracefully. “’M gonna propose to Cait.”

            Viktor sits up. “You WHAT?” He asks, incredulous. He didn’t think that either of them had the intention of marriage, ever. Something about the heterosexuality of needing union and a legitimization of their relationship – the ideocracy of proving your love for someone else through the legal system. He’s listened to both of their rants multiple times. “Have you talked to her about it?”

            She grins at him. “Of course I have. You think I would ever get away with springing something like that on her? She’d kill me.” Her face gains the gauzy haze of someone in love, as it always does when she talks about her girlfriend. “We went ring shopping last week and picked one out. Well, two. It’ll probably be a double proposal.”

            “Sappy,” Viktor supplies, sarcastic.

            “Oh, shut up,” Vi slaps his shoulder. “I know we said we would never do it, but with the state of everything – ” she gestures at the general world around them “ – we thought it might be nice to add some joy. To celebrate, you know? Get our kicks in while we can.”

            “I like it,” he says. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

            “Yeah, yeah you’re our number one fan. Wanna be my man of honour?”

            “You’re not going to ask Jinx?”

            Vi shrugs. “I thought about it.”

            “And?”

            “It’d mean more to me if you helped me with planning it. You’ve been around a lot more than her lately. Not that – not that it’s her fault, or anything. I know she’s busy. I just don’t want to add one more thing to her plate, you know? And I love you.”

            He understands the underlying context. I’m glad you’re here to do it. I’m happy to involve you while I can. “Makes sense,” he says, taking another sip of his iced tea. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over just how much the infused beverages taste like weed.

            “So you’ll do it?”

            “Of course I’ll do it.”

            “Hah! Okay. I’m so excited!  I – I never really thought I’d have something like this, you know?”

            Viktor nods. He knows. “I’m excited for you too.”

            She reaches out and squeezes his hand.

            “I love you too, by the way.”

            “Of course you do.”

            He rolls his eyes.

            Inside there’s the chaos of someone new coming in, and Vi puts out her joint in the ashtray. “Should we go say hi?” She asks, and Viktor nods, excited to spend time with his friends, together.

            There’s a ball of light in his chest, and he can’t get over how much it feels like everything in the entire world going right. Again and again, these people have saved him and again and again, he keeps falling in love with them. What a beautiful thing, to be held. What a beautiful thing, to not be alone anymore.

Chapter Text

Viktor is high and tipsy and Jayce is just drunk, watching him laugh at whatever Mel is telling him. He’d gone too far earlier, with what he’d said in the kitchen. You’re allowed to look, you know. He’s not sure what had possessed him, but he’d felt Viktor’s eyes on him – he’d worn the workout clothes knowing Viktor would look at him – and he’d wanted to acknowledge whatever it is he’s sure they’re both feeling.

            He’d wanted to ease some of the tension.

            He’s afraid he’s only made it worse.

            He can’t tell if Viktor is avoiding him, or if he’s just preoccupied with their other guests. He supposes that Vik gets to see him all the time, and that it’s been too long since he’s hung out with the others. He’s not jealous he’s just … cognizant of the distance between them. Yearning.

            Cait notices, and when he excuses himself to get another drink in the kitchen she follows him, starting the kettle for tea, or to muffle their conversation. “What’s going on with Vik?” She asks, digging in the cupboard for her favourite mug.

            “Nothing,” he says, too quickly, and she gives him a look that makes it clear she’s not in the mood for him to bullshit.

            “Don’t give me that,” she says.

            He sighs and presses the heels of his hands against his eyes, relieving the pressure. He shouldn’t have worn contacts – he’s going to have to dig them out drunk, and that almost never works out well. “I don’t know,” he sighs. “I think I pushed a boundary earlier. I caught him looking and I acknowledged it.”

            She crosses her arms over her chest. “How so?”

            “I gave him permission.”

            “Oh, you two are hopeless.”

            “He’s just scared.”

            “And you’re not?”

            “I don’t want to hurt him.”

            “Do you plan on hurting him?”

            Jayce shakes his head, which sends the world around him spinning. Maybe he should slow down, or drink something other than wine. He hadn’t been planning on drinking this much, but there’s something about watching his friends together that makes him let his guard down. He’s sure he’d be just as safe sober, but it’s nice, to feel taken care of. “’D rather die,” he says and she rolls her eyes.

            “Drama queen,” she says.

            “You were the same way with Vi.” He remembers it like it was yesterday. Cait had wanted to make a move but didn’t want to risk losing Vi and it took them months to address the unspoken chemistry.

            “We were nineteen, Jayce. You guys are grown adults.”

            “He’s been through so much.”

            “Excuses.”

            “I wanna be sober for it.”

            “You probably should be.”

            “’M gonna marry him one day.”

            “Vi is going to propose soon.”

            He nearly spits out the sip of wine he’d just taken. “WHAT?!”

            The kettle boils. “We went ring shopping last week.”

            “Oh, Cait! That’s incredible!”

            “Vi is asking Vik to be her man of honour and I want you to be mine.”

            “Yes! Absolutely, of course. We made pacts when we were younger, remember?”

            “How could I forget?” She pours out her tea and Jayce holds out his glass for a sloppy cheers. “It’ll be nice, I think.”

            “To be married?”

            “To have a wedding. To get everyone together. I think – if there’s one thing that I’ve learned with Vik getting sick, it’s that we don’t have all the time in the world. You know?”

            Jayce nods. He understands. “I want to spend all the time I can with you guys.”

            “Exactly.” She looks deeply amused.

            He’s not sure that they’re talking about their friends anymore, but he doesn’t want to think about it further. Instead, he gestures that she should lead the way back to the living room and she obliges.

            Viktor smiles at him from his seat on the couch and Jayce’s stomach turns with butterflies. He can’t wait to talk about the upcoming wedding later, when everyone’s gone home.

**

            It’s two in the morning by the time Cait and Vi, the last two to leave, are out the door. Jayce has sobered up significantly, but Viktor’s still rolling, and he’s grinning at Jayce like the cat who just ate the canary.

            “They’re getting married!” He says, full of joy.

            “Yeah, Cait told me,” Jayce responds, making sure the door is locked. “She asked me to be her man of honour.”

            Viktor gasps. “No way!”

            “What?”

            “Vi asked me to be hers!”

            Jayce can’t help the stupid smile that comes across his face. “Wow,” he says, and then he can’t resist the urge to touch Viktor. He reaches out and presses his hand against Vik’s waist as he passes by on the way to the living room to tidy up. “I’m so happy for them.”

            Viktor, pouring himself a glass of water in the kitchen, agrees loudly. “I can’t believe our friends are gonna get married,” he slurs, happily. “What a time to be alive.”

            What a time to be alive is right, Jayce thinks, loading his arms with empty cans and joining Vik, depositing them all in the sink. “Honestly,” he whispers, watching his roommate greedily drink water, the droplets that pool and then slide down on either side of his mouth. You’re so beautiful, he wants to say but doesn’t.

            Viktor puts the glass down. “Bedtime,” he says. “I am so tired.”

            “Mhm,” Jayce hums, looking at the clock on the stove that reads 2:13. “It’s late.”

            There’s a moment where both waiting for the other to say something, or do something, and neither move, and then Viktor takes a step forward, steadying himself with his cane. “Can you help me with my brace?” He asks. “It’s been on too long and I am – ” he hiccups, as if illustrating his point, “ – too drunk.”

            “Yeah,” Jayce breathes. “Just let me get my contacts out first, okay?”

            Viktor nods. He shuffles tiredly by Jayce and Jayce fights the urge to ruffle his hair. He’s not sure that Viktor would enjoy it.

            He waits until Viktor’s safely rounded the corner before he flips the lights and makes his way to the bathroom. In the mirror, he seems rumpled, his eyes red with alcohol, his cheeks rosy with warmth. He undoes his first button and splashes water over his face, hoping to further sober himself before he takes out his contacts, only managing to stab himself once, and then he pees, washes his hands, stumbles out into the hall and towards his bedroom.

            Viktor’s sitting on the bed, fiddling with his leg brace and cursing under his breath.

            “Here,” Jayce says, kneeling. He pushes Viktor’s hands away and undoes the buckles easing it off Vik’s leg and eliciting a sigh of relief and a long stretch. “Back brace too?” He asks, unable to resist the urge to slide his hand behind the other man’s calf and squeeze.

            “Please,” Viktor murmurs, but he doesn’t move.

            Jayce squeezes his calf again. “I need to get at it, V,” he says, gently, drunker on their proximity than he had been on the wine.

            “Right.” He moves to undo his shirt buttons, but his fingers fumble, and he curses. He tries again and then groans in frustration. “Can’t.”

            Jayce’s heart pounds in his chest like he’s about to do something wrong. “Want me to?”

            “Mhm. Please?”

            “You got it,” he almost calls Viktor baby. He’s sure he could play it off as teasing, but he might never get over the shame.

            He leans forward and undoes all of Viktor’s shirt buttons and then helps him push the fabric off his shoulders. He tries not to stare at the expanse of skin that’s just been exposed, instead setting to work undoing the straps on the brace. There’s another sigh of relief when he slips the contraption off, and they’re so close that Jayce feels the breath on his skin.

            He pushes himself away before he does something stupid like slide his palm against Viktor’s ribs, or runs his fingers over the scar there from his cancer surgery. He swallows.

            “I don’t wanna be alone,” Viktor whispers, so quiet that Jayce hardly hears him.

            “You’re not alone,” Jayce responds, “we live together now.”

            Viktor shakes his head. “I kept thinking about everything, when they were here.”

            “Everything like what?” He almost says baby again. There’s something about Viktor, unwound like this, that makes him want to protect him. To curl up around him so that nothing can hurt him.

            “Like Zaun and Salo and how lonely I was.” Viktor reaches out, catching Jayce’s forearm in his grip. “I don’t wanna be alone, Jay.”

            “I’m right here,” Jayce whispers.

            “No.”

            “I don’t know what you mean, then.” He’s implying something that Jayce doesn’t understand or won’t understand. He doesn’t want to read too far into this conversation with his own motives and needs and wants and desires.

            “Don’t sleep on the couch.”

            Jayce’s eyebrows furrow. “Where else would I -- ?”

            “Jayce,” Viktor says, starting to get annoyed. “Stay with me tonight, here. In the bed. I can’t – I don’t want to sleep alone, okay? I can’t – ”

            Oh.

            “I can’t be locked in my own head alone right now.”

            Oh.

            He doesn’t want to read too far into it. He feels like he’s won the lottery.

            “Jayce?”

            “Oh. Yes. Sure, okay.” He’s trying not to sound too eager.

            Viktor nods. “Good.” He pulls away and lays down, shirt off, pants still on.

            Jayce tucks him in and then turns off the lamp, and taking off his shirt and pants, leaving them on the floor of his side. He crawls in beside his roommate, his blood pressure sky high. He keeps to his side, turned away from Viktor and closes his eyes.

            Viktor has other plans, though, and pushes their backs together, skin to skin, setting Jayce on fire. He almost turns around to wrap an arm around the other man, but he clenches his jaw and keeps his eyes shut, keeps his hands to himself.

            “Night Jayce,” Viktor mutters.

            “Night, V,” he responds.

            Viktor pushes just a little bit closer.

            Jayce waits a heartbeat, and then another before his resolve shatters. He turns, and envelops Viktor in his embrace, fully spooning him. Viktor, to his credit, relaxes against him, pulling his hand to rest against his chest, their fingers intertwined.

            “This okay?” Vik asks, and Jayce nods against his hair.

            “More than okay,” he whispers, and Viktor lets out a contented noise of satisfaction.

            Everything in the world has fallen into place and it’s all here, curled up in his arms, pressed against his skin. He doesn’t know how much longer he can pretend.

Chapter Text

            They don’t talk about it. Every night Jayce crawls into bed with Viktor and every night they end up cuddling one way or another. Viktor quietly stops searching for a mattress and Jayce stops leaving to the bathroom to change. The boxes of Viktor’s stuff that were in the office stay soundly in the office, but their contents scatter through the apartment, manifesting in piles of clothes on Jayce’s dresser and in both closets, his sheets and pillows integrating into the linen pile.

            They don’t talk about the sleeping arrangements. The blanket nest on the couch stays, but it’s never used overnight unless both crash, together, after watching a movie or catching up on their shared TV series.

            They plan their fall semester, Viktor’s classes and Jayce’s research and teaching. Their free periods, eaten up by wanting to spend time together. Viktor applies to tutor and to work part time as a TA, easily scoring both jobs. He gets caught up on all of Jayce’s project notes, listening as Jayce explains things animatedly, thinking only of all the students that must be captivated in the same way. Thinking only of the way that Jayce gesticulates, and that his big, warm hands have held him now, every night, for two weeks.

            And they still haven’t talked about it.

            He hasn’t even mentioned it to Vi or Sky, for fear that they will pressure him to mention it and that by speaking the words aloud it will be taken away. That somehow, if their friends find out they’ve been sleeping – sleeping and no more – together, the fragile tension of it will be broken and Jayce will change his mind. Jayce will go back to sleeping on the couch and Viktor will have to once again resign himself to Marketplace.

            He’s sleepy in the café by their apartment, reviewing the syllabus for the class he’s been assigned to mark for, waiting for Jayce to bring back their orders from the counter. The sun is warm against his skin, streaming in from the window, and he can’t help but think of how content he is right here, right now. Later they’re going to Cait and Vi’s for dinner, and tomorrow they’ll go grocery shopping for the week and then meal prep together in the kitchen, Jayce doing most of the cooking and Viktor happy to sit back and watch, providing moral support.

            It’s comfortable. It’s domestic. It’s missing something but that doesn’t mean he wants to approach what it is that’s going on under the surface. He hasn’t been this relaxed in a long time.

            Jayce slides him his breakfast sandwich and his god-awful excuse for coffee and grins at him over their laptops. “I think the barista had the sweets for you,” he says, turning the coffee cup to reveal the name Cecil, a phone number and a smiley face.

            Viktor blinks at it, and then looks up to the barista, who’s handsome, sure, but isn’t the type of man that Viktor wants. Meaning, he isn’t Jayce. The barista looks up, pushes his glasses up his nose, smiles and then waves, and Viktor, startled, waves back.

            We can never come back to this café, he thinks.

            “You gonna text him?” Jayce asks, still grinning.

            A small, idiot voice in the back of Viktor’s head wonders if Jayce is jealous. He tells it to shut up. It doesn’t matter. Even if there was something romantic between them, he doesn’t think that Jayce is the type to care. He’s not insecure in any sense of the word, and he’d like to think there’d be trust between them.

            “No,” Viktor sighs. “He’s not my type.”

            “Mm,” Jayce nods. “Don’t like baristas?” His eyes are twinkling with teasing mischief, as if this is the kind of thing they talk about all the time. As if they’re not, once again, encroaching on untrodden territory.

            You’re allowed to look, you know.

            Maybe two can play this game?

            “Not burly enough,” Viktor hums, going back to reading through his syllabus.

            Jayce, without skipping a beat, says, “Don’t like the nerdy types, then?”

            And Viktor wishes he hadn’t said anything. He sneaks a glance at Jayce, who seems as though he’s enjoying this a little bit too much. “I like nerds just fine,” he says.

            “Burly nerds,” Jayce nods.

            Viktor sighs. He exits out of the syllabus and opens Google. How to survive being in love with your best friend when you don’t want to do anything about it.

            “Have you ever asked a burly nerd about his type?” Jayce asks, after a moment, taking a sip of his Black Coffee.

            “Haven’t thought about it.” Viktor scrolls through the results. Clicks on the WikiHow that promises to tell him how to fall out of love with his best friend. Reads the first three steps, and then clicks out, opening Reddit instead.

            “Maybe you should.”

            Viktor sneaks a glance at Jayce, who’s watching him steadily, that same dark expression that he’d had the night he’d given permission to look underlying his eyes. He sighs and exits the tab without reading anything. “You’ve never really liked anyone but Mel, that you’ve told me.”

            Jayce shrugs. “There’ve been a few hookups. Nothing interesting.”

            “Hookups like the barista?” Viktor feels the jealousy he’d disowned burning like a betrayal in his chest. Jayce is allowed to have not told him things.

            “Hookups like I was trying to figure out if I was really bi,” Jayce unwraps his food. “And I guess there was one who looked similar.”

            Ah. Right. Jayce had told him about these – they’d come early. After Mel but before Viktor had met Salo. Before he’d moved away. “And was he your type?”

            “Not really.”

            Viktor’s running out of things to do on his laptop to avoid looking at Jayce. He shuts it, anyways. “Okay, then shoot. What is it?”

            “Incredibly intelligent idiots,” Jayce says between bites of his wrap.

            Viktor scoffs. “Sounds like a lot to handle.”

            Jayce wipes his mouth, and Viktor tracks the motion, caught on the glimpse of teeth behind his lips. “You don’t even know.”

            God god god. How did we get here? He wants to reach across the table and kiss Jayce. Fuck the consequences. Fuck the barista, fuck this café. What are we doing here, anyways? Why can’t we just talk about it? Instead, he says, “Maybe you should go for more intelligent or more idiotic.”

            “You’re probably right.” Annoyance. Acceptance. One day he doesn’t think that Jayce will take his skirting around the problem for an answer anymore.

            “I’m always right.” Except maybe not in this. Maybe they should talk about it.

**

            He doesn’t mention the sleeping together to Cait or Vi at dinner. He doesn’t mention it to them when they go out for drinks three days later. He doesn’t mention it to Sky when they go for coffee and he doesn’t mention it to Mel when she calls him to check in at the end of the week. He doesn’t say anything to Jayce, either.

            Jayce who’s become increasingly affectionate. Jayce who he’s found likes to be held as much as he likes to hold – maybe even more so the former, if Viktor is being honest. Jayce who constantly has a hand on his shoulder or his back or his waist, who wordlessly works out the tension in the muscles of his bad leg when they sit together on the couch.

            Of course, it’s not just Jayce giving and him taking. He’s not as physically affectionate, but he cooks dinner when Jayce is too busy or loses time at work and he makes their coffees in the morning and tea in the evenings. He likes to bake, so he makes sure there’s bread and treats most of the time. He reads passages of his books out loud to Jayce when they don’t feel like putting on the TV and he plays with Jayce’s hair when Jayce lays with his head in his lap.

            Still, there’s a guilt settling at the base of his spine. What if he’s allowing too much? What if Jayce is only doing these things because he thinks they’re friends and if Viktor confesses they’ll be suddenly taken from him? What if Jayce is only doing these things because he’s expecting them to become more than friends and if they don’t he’ll be left alone again? What if he gets used to having Jayce around, all the nice things he does for him and then, somehow, he loses him?

             What if he gets sick again and Jayce jumps ship? Just like Salo.

            He knows Jayce isn’t anything like Salo. He knows that. Jayce loves him.

            But Salo had been loving, in the beginning. He’d bought Viktor presents and flowers and treats. He’d showered him in physical affection. He’d been doting to the point of annoyance.

            He’d also isolated Viktor. Stretched his boundaries. Made him reliant.

            All things Jayce is very firm on not doing. When Mel called out of the blue, they’d been watching TV together and Jayce told him to take the call, retreating to the office to give him space. When Viktor told Jayce the way he hovered, when Viktor was having a painful moment or a bit of a cough (his lungs are still sensitive), he’d learned to take a step back and give him space. Viktor has the second set of car keys and has been told that he’s to take it whenever he needs. There’s a pull-cart that stays in the trunk for carrying things back and forth from the vehicle to the apartment, so that Viktor doesn’t have to call Jayce to ask for help unless he wants to.

            There are a million and a half conversations they’ve had about co-habiting and how to make it work for each other, but for some reason talking about his feelings for Jayce is too much. He’d asked for a cat two days ago, something they’ve talked about before and Jayce had very much not been into, but bringing up the romantic feelings he’s been harbouring? Apparently not.

            The answer on the cat had been a resounding maybe. He’s giving Jayce the time to think about it before he lays it on thick. Unless Jayce comes back with a no, there’s a chance.

            It would probably be bad news for him, though. To get a cat would mean that Jayce, despite his reluctance, would fall in love with it, and then Viktor would have to watch him love it. He might not survive.

            In truth, he might not survive anyways. Jayce’s time in shirts has been decreasing steadily. He likes to go to the gym in the apartment building basement and come back sweaty to stand in the kitchen and make a protein shake right where Viktor can see him. Viktor doesn’t know if it’s intentional or not but given the you’re allowed to look it might be.

            When this happens, he tries so hard not to look, but it never works. Whatever he’s working on gets forgotten in lieu of daydreams. Sick, freaky, sweaty daydreams that Viktor’s never once believed himself capable of. Sick, freaky, sweaty daydreams that make Viktor shift uncomfortably in his seat and pray that Jayce will move on into the shower sooner than later.

            He wonders if there’s anything he does that makes Jayce think the same dirty thoughts. And then he reminds himself that it doesn’t matter. And he tries to go back to doing whatever task he’d been working on before sweaty Jayce came into the kitchen.

Chapter Text

            Classes start in only a couple of days and Jayce is in his office, fresh from a meeting with his supervising professor, making the suggested alterations to his syllabus. It doesn’t matter how many times he’s taught the damn class, Heimerdinger always has something to tweak or add, which makes it interesting, but sometimes it’s just a bit too much. Sometimes he leaves the meetings wanting to pull out his own hair.

            There’s a tentative knock on the door. “Jayce?” It’s Sky.

            “Come on in,” he calls out, saving his document and spinning around in his chair to face her as she walks in. “What’s up?”

            She holds up a mug of coffee and he takes it gratefully. “Just thought you might want some – you were saying you had a meeting with Heimer this morning.”

            Jayce grimaces. “Yeah, I did. It went fine, he just expects way more than I think I can give most of the time.” Sky has much more understanding supervisors. They give her more autonomy, they don’t breathe down her neck.

            She’s also doing much more successful and (in his opinion) important work which gives her a small amount of leeway that he doesn’t have. Her treatment for cancer – specifically lung, specifically caused by the Grey – is the reason that Viktor’s still alive today and Jayce will forever and always be grateful and in awe.

            “Yeah, I think there’s an audit happening in your department soon, isn’t there? Maybe that’s why he’s been such an ass?”

            “Or it’s because he’s so old he’s forgotten how times works,” Jayce mutters. “It doesn’t matter, right now, though. My favourite colleague is here. How are you doing?”

            Sky beams. “I’m so busy right now I could probably be in the lab twenty-four-seven. They’ve approved three more clinical trials and I’m trying not to get my hopes up too high but so far it’s helping for all of them. Exactly like it was for Viktor.”

            “That’s such good news!” Jayce congratulates. “Viktor was saying that he has another follow up with you soon?”

            She nods. “Yeah, just for monitoring purposes. We’ve not seen any sign of regression yet, but that doesn’t mean it can’t or won’t happen. We’re still only a few months out.” She must see the strained look on Jayce’s face so she adds, quickly, “But I have high hopes! He really was the perfect patient with the perfect results.”

            “Yeah, he is perfect, isn’t he?” he says, before he has time to register the words he’s said, and Sky giggles. “Fuck, no – that’s not –”

            “It’s fine, Jayce,” she grins. “It’s not really a secret that you’re into him, is it?”

            He rolls his eyes. “It’s supposed to be. But that – I mean, it doesn’t matter. As in I don’t really want to talk about it right now. Have Cait and Vi told you the good news yet?”

            Sky gasps, covering her mouth with her hand. “No!”

            “Oh, yeah. Well, the proposal technically hasn’t happened yet, but it’s coming. I don’t know how I haven’t told you yet, but I don’t think I was supposed to, so don’t say anything, okay?” He feels only partially bad about giving away trade secrets, but the fact that he’s held onto it for nearly three weeks now is a miracle. He’s been dying to talk to someone else about it that isn’t Viktor.

            Not that he doesn’t like talking about it with Viktor, but Sky’s excitement is so over the top it’s hard not to be excited with her.

            “Oh, the secret is so safe with me,” she exclaims. “God, this is such incredible news! They really make me believe that love is real, you know? And that one day maybe when I have more time, I can find some for myself.”

            “Yeah, they try not to be sappy about it, but to be so crazy for each other after all this time is kind of impressive, isn’t it?”

            He tries not to think about Viktor this morning, stretching and yawning at the kitchen island, the tiniest sliver of bare abdomen exposed by his shirt riding up. The way he’d been so tired the night before and yet had still read an entire chapter out of his novel to Jayce because Jayce had been keyed up about the Heimer meeting. He wonders if it counts to the same degree as Cait and Vi if it’s only platonic so far.

            “I think it is,” Sky confirms, and then her phone starts ringing and she swears, digging it out of her pocket. “Sorry,” she hums, “I have to take this, but I’ll see you around?”

            He nods. “Of course. I’ll bring you a pick me up next time, yeah?”

            “Oh yeah! That’d be great!” She ducks out of his office, waving until she’s out of sight.

            Jayce turns back to his laptop and the stupid syllabus. He leans forward and rests his head on his arms. He could scream. He could cry. He could probably break every electronic in this room and not even feel bad about it.

            Before he gets the chance to, there’s another knock on the door, this one more hesitant.

            He sits back up. “Yeah?” He calls, and then there’s Viktor, looking very handsome and put together in a band tee, cardigan and cuffed jeans. “Oh, hey.” He tries not to sound Affected by Viktor’s presence here.

            “Hey,” Viktor says, almost shyly. Never in all the years they’ve known each other has Viktor been so quiet.

            “Is something wrong?” Jayce asks, scooting his chair a few inches forward towards the door. All his senses are immediately on alert.

            “Um, nonotreally,” Viktor says quickly, still suspicious. “Ijustmaybe didsomethingIprobablywasn’tsupposed to.”

            “Huh?” Something he wasn’t supposed to? That could be anything.

            Viktor swallows. “Promise me youwon’tbemad?”

            “Viktor what the fuck is happening? Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did you hurt yourself??” The worry spills over.

            Confusion and then understanding spills over Viktor’s face. He raises his hands, as if in truce, as if to signify the truth behind the next statement. “Oh, no. I’m fine – um – I’m – no, it’s okay. Don’t worry about that. Just promise me you won’t be mad, okay?”

            Jayce relaxes a fraction. He doesn’t think that Viktor would ever lie to him about his mental wellbeing, not after literally talking each other back from their respective edges. “Sure,” he says, “okay. I won’t be mad.”

“Iagreedthatwe’dgoandseeakittenthiseveningthey’refreesoitwouldn’tevencostanythingandwedon’thavetocommitIjustsaidwe’dvisit. AndmaybeIalreadyboughtsomeofthethingsforone. Butwedon’thavetocommit. Iknowyouhaven’tsaidyesyet,thislitterisjustsocutedoyouwanttoseeaphoto?” Viktor’s pulling out his phone, not taking no for an answer.

            “Vik, I – ” he starts, about to say that he’s still not sure they should get a pet together, but then he sees the soft expression on the other man’s face, the hope stored in the way his fingers move across his phone screen to bring up the photo.

            He brandishes his phone at Jayce, and Jayce takes it, not caring about the kittens in the slightest. They are cute, though. He scrolls through them, just to keep Viktor on edge.

            He sighs. Zooms in on an orange one that looks like he just gnawed on an electric wire. “I don’t know, V,” he says, knowing he’s being cruel. Knowing he’ll be forgiven.

            “Like I said, we don’t have to commit. We’re just having a meet and greet, you know?”

            Jayce nods. He pans over to another kitten that’s calico. He’s about to give the phone back to Viktor when he receives a text message. A text message that Jayce knows he shouldn’t read, but glances at accidentally and a cold rage starts seeping through his bones.

            “Vik?” He asks.

            “Yeah?”

            “Why is Salo texting you?”

            “Oh.” Viktor’s face falls. He wraps one arm over his chest and tucks his hand into his armpit, leaning heavily on his cane. “It’s nothing, really. Just following up on deposit stuff with the old apartment.”

            There’s a flurry of more messages and Jayce looks from the screen to Viktor and back. It makes sense, then, why Viktor’s scheduled a kitten appointment. Why he’d been so shy coming into Jayce’s office. Contact with Salo makes him flighty, unsure. Contact with Salo makes him a shell of himself. He presses the power button on the phone and hands it back.

            “If you find a kitten tonight, I think we should bring it home,” he says, quietly.

            Viktor smiles at him, but it’s not as big as he would have thought it should be. “Thanks,” he whispers.

            “What’s Salo really texting you about?”

            He deflates. Loses everything that’s Viktor about him. “I think it’d be better if you just read the messages,” he whispers, aging thirty years in the thirty seconds it takes for him to unlock his phone and read through the new ones. “He’s – he’s being Salo, I guess.”

            Jayce takes the offered phone, anger brewing deep in his chest, and gestures that Viktor should take a seat in his extra chair. He does so, gratefully.

            In the chat, he reads:

            Salo: hey vik hope you’re alright. you ever going to pay me back my half of the deposit?

            Viktor: I e-transferred you the $ when I got it.

            Salo: no u didn’t! i didn’t get shit from you!

            Viktor: [Screenshotted Confirmation of E-transfer Deliver]

            Salo: why didn’t you tell me you sent it?

            Viktor: I assumed you would notice the money in your bank account.

            Salo: well sorry i’m not on top of everything the way you are

            Salo: sorry i can’t be perfect and trusting and patient 100% of the time

            Viktor: What are you talking about?

            Salo: sorry i wasn’t good enough for you, but i tried, okay?

            Salo: you getting sick took it out of me, okay?

            Salo: i just couldn’t keep up and that’s not my fault.

            Salo: i hope you find someone who can do it all for you

            Salo: even if it’s just jayce

            Salo: actually fuck jayce. he doesn’t deserve you.

            Salo: we could’ve been so good if you just didn’t get sick.

            Salo: i didn’t know what to do. i tried so hard

            Salo: i still loved you, and you broke my heart.

            The typing bubble starts, then disappears as Jayce reads through everything. He takes a step forward and puts his forearm around Viktor’s shoulder, pulling him in close against his side. “Is this the first time he’s contacted you like this?” He asks, dragging his thumb back to the top of the conversation.

            Viktor buries his face in the fabric of Jayce’s shirt, breathing out so deeply the warmth of it pools on Jayce’s skin below. “No,” he says, muffled.

            A new text appears.

            Salo: i can see that you’ve read this. don’t i at least deserve a fucking response? after everything i did for you?

            Jayce’s grip on Viktor tightens.

            Salo: HELLO?!

            Salo: EARTH TO VIKTOR!

            “Did he say more?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Is it just as bad?”

            “Yeah.”

            Salo: you’re not the only person on earth, viktor. one day you’ll realize that and then you’ll be sorry.

            Salo: i can’t believe i put up with your selfish ass for so long.

            “I don’t know if you should read the rest,” he whispers, which only makes Viktor snatch his phone and read them.

            And re-read them. And re-read them.

            Jayce sinks down to his knees beside him and gently takes the phone from him, turning it off and sliding it into his own back pocket. Viktor looks at him, his expression blank, his eyes glassy.

            “It wasn’t your fault you got sick, V,” Jayce says, softly. “You’re not selfish for wanting to survive, and Salo wasn’t great to you before that, anyways. You don’t owe him a response, or anything, really. Okay?”

            Viktor blinks at him. “I know,” he whispers. “I know all that is true.”

            “Good.”

            “Still, it makes me – I don’t know what the feeling is.”

            “That’s okay.”

            His brows furrow. “Regret, maybe?”

            “You couldn’t have known.”

            “I could have left sooner.”

            “V, you barely had the energy to wake up in the morning.”

            Viktor sighs. He leans, once again, into Jayce and Jayce’s arms wrap around him easily.

            “I’m glad you’re here now, still,” Jayce says.

            “I’m glad too.”

            Jayce tucks his chin over Viktor’s skull protectively and squeezes him in tighter. “You should block Salo’s number.”

            “Probably,” Viktor says in a way that means he’s not going to.

            “I’m serious.”

            “I don’t think I’m ready yet.”

            “What if he texts you like that again?”

            Viktor sniffles and Jayce realizes with a start that he’s crying. “It’d be so final,” he says, miserably.

            “It’s already over, V, it doesn’t really get more final than that.” He runs a hand through Viktor’s hair and pretends he hadn’t just been dangerously close to calling him love.

            “Will you do it with me? Later?”

            “Of course I will.”

            “Okay.”

            “Okay.

            “Thank you.”

            “Of course, V. Anything, anytime, I’ll say it as much as you need to hear it.”

            Viktor’s fingers curl into his shirt and grab the fabric hard, his arms tightening like a vice.

            They stay like that for a while, before Viktor is okay enough to let go, and then he wipes his eyes frantically. He sits up, and when he looks at Jayce, there’s something so raw in his amber eyes that Jayce wants nothing more than to hold him again. I’m sorry he did this to you, he wants to say, I’m sorry he’s made you feel hard to love.

            “You probably want to get back to work,” Viktor says, self-consciously and Jayce shakes his head.

            “I want to bring you home,” he says, instead. “If you’ll let me. I can finish there.”

            Viktor nods. “I’d like that a lot.”

            “Okay. Let me just get my stuff packed. When did you say we’d meet the kittens?”

            “Oh, um. Six. Is that okay?”

            “Sounds good to me, V.”

            Jayce packs up his laptop and some papers, slinging his backpack over his shoulders, and then he reaches out to help Viktor up, hoping that his hovering isn’t taken the wrong way.

            It doesn’t seem to be. When Jayce loosens his grip on Viktor’s hand, Viktor tightens his, squeezing for a moment before he lets go fully. I get it, he wants to say. He wants contact with Viktor more than anything right now, but he allows them to get to the car before he reaches out again, pressing his elbow solidly against Viktor’s elbow.

            Viktor hesitates for a moment, and then he pushes his hand into Jayce’s intertwining their fingers once again. He doesn’t say anything. Neither does Jayce.

            But it’s nice. Jayce feels like he’s just been gifted the secret to life. Jayce feels like he’s been hit by a bus. Jayce feels guilty and terrible and so incredibly in love he doesn’t know how he’ll ever be able to come back from this. He doesn’t know how he’ll keep his feelings platonic, doesn’t know if he wants to anymore.

            I’m going to talk to him, he tells himself. I’m going to do it.

            They can’t keep going on like this.

Chapter Text

            Jayce does not take them home. Instead, he drives them to Viktor’s favourite place for bubble tea and when Viktor mentions he doesn’t really want to interact with strangers, he goes inside and comes out with Viktor’s regular order.

            Viktor takes it from him and almost starts crying again. Why am I so fragile? He asks himself. Why does every single thing set me off?

            Jayce doesn’t seem to mind. He gets back into the car and reaches out to tuck a strand of Viktor’s regrowing hair back to its rightful place, so fondly and so gently that he’s almost not sure that it happened.

            He takes a sip of his tea, the sweetness exploding in his mouth, perfectly memorized. He sneaks a glance at Jayce, outlined in the window against the afternoon light, the sun making him glow. You are so beautiful almost slips past his lips, but he chews on his straw to make sure it doesn’t. Jayce offers his hand again, and Viktor takes it without hesitation, holding onto it, using it like an anchor. Here, in Jayce’s car, where it’s just the two of them, nothing else matters and he’s allowed to want it. Here, in Jayce’s car, a cathedral on four wheels, everything is holy and nothing is impossible.

            Jayce still doesn’t take them home. He turns onto the highway that heads North out of town, bending their elbows against the console and pulling their hands towards him, leaning down to press his cheek against the back of Viktor’s, reverent for one moment and then two and then three.

            Whatever it is they haven’t been talking about is alive in the small space, palpable, recycled by the air vents. He feels Jayce’s breath against his knuckles and with the warmth comes the knowledge that this could be his – this is his – whenever he wants it. And he wants it. He wants it so badly.

            The car pulls off onto Cait and Vi’s road and Viktor breaks the silence.

            “Why here?”

            Jayce doesn’t move their hands as he replies, “I’m reminding you how loved you are.”

            He can’t help it. He breaks a little bit more in two, and as they pull into Cait and Vi’s driveway, Jayce’s lips press softly against his knuckles. How could I explain this to someone? What words would I use?

            Vi’s truck is in the driveway, and after a moment of sitting, Viktor watches her face appear in the kitchen window, curious about the car that’s just pulled in. Recognition crosses it, and then she makes eye contact with them both before disappearing.

            “How did you know she’d be home?” Viktor asks, prodding at the puffiness under his eyes with his free hand. It doesn’t matter if Vi knows he’s been crying but some part of him wants to seem less pathetic. He’s supposed to be independent and capable and look at him now.  

            “Called her in the bubble tea place,” Jayce responds, not looking away from the door. “She said she’s working from home today and wouldn’t mind some company.”

            “Has Salo texted me again?”

            He sighs. “No.”

            “I’ll see them, anyways, Jayce.”

            “He hasn’t texted you since we left my office.”

             Viktor pulls his hand away.

            “We don’t have to go in, if you don’t want to?”

            He takes a sip of his bubble tea. “I want to see Vi’s face when I tell her you said yes to a cat.” There’s something in his tone that he hopes Jayce picks up on, I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

            Jayce chuckles, the sound unexpected and hearty in the tense air. He reaches over and squeezes Viktor’s thigh lightly. Good-heartedly. “She’ll demand to come with us tonight.”

            “Oh! That’d be so good! Maybe they need another one and we could have siblings.”

            “I’m not sure that Cait would be in agreement with that.”

            “Better to ask for forgiveness than permission?” Viktor sniffs and looks over at Jayce, who rolls his eyes fondly.

            “They already have three.”

            “Exactly, so what’s one more?” He feels better. Lighter. Happier.

            He’d got the texts from Salo earlier, while he was eating cereal and scrolling on his phone and they’d sent him on an immediate spiral, the world spinning and crashing down around him. He’d found the e-transfer proof in a haze, responded in a way he thought wouldn’t escalate anything, tried to diffuse by giving him exactly what he thought he wanted, and when it didn’t work he’d started looking at kittens for sale online, tucked into bed with Jayce’s pillow held against his chest. He’d booked the viewing without even thinking about the consequences. He’d called an uber to bring him to the pet store without even registering what he was doing, all while Salo was texting him.

            He’d bought kitten things without noticing the price, and it was only then, standing in the pet store parking lot, that he realized what he was doing. He’d taken the bus back home and then immediately up to the university, then, nervous heart thumping loudly in his chest, ready for the worst. Ready for Jayce to curse him out, to agree with Salo that he’s too much, that he’s fundamentally unlovable. Ready for Jayce to tell him that he was stupid for thinking otherwise, that he was angry for the way he’d responded to Salo’s text messages, that he should’ve let Jayce come to a conclusion about the cat, that he’s doing everything wrong.

            And then none of it had happened.

            Jayce had been worried. Steady. Understanding. Sweet.

            And shame had taken root in Viktor’s stomach. Shame for everything he let happen with Salo. Shame for how long he held onto the hope that he’d get better, that the next day or the day after would be different. Shame for thinking that he deserved the mistreatment.

            “We should probably go in,” Jayce points at Vi’s face, in the window again. “She might be about to come out if we don’t. You ready?”

            He nods. He doesn’t know how much Jayce has told Vi, but he’s sure it’s most of what’s just happened so she would understand what to expect when they pulled in. It doesn’t really matter anyway – Vi’s already seen him at his absolute worst. This can’t be half as bad.

            Jayce and spills out of the driver side – sometimes Viktor doesn’t understand how all of him fits – and waits for him at the front of the car. He gestures for Viktor to walk in front of him and then puts his palm against the small of Viktor’s back, a place he always ends up finding that makes Viktor want to puke from the tenderness of it. They don’t knock, instead Vi swings the door open and waves them in.

            “Don’t let the cats out,” she says, “they’ve been bad lately. Had to chase Juliet halfway down the street in my underwear the other day.” She grins at them, and Viktor grins back, enjoying the image of Vi in her boxers, running down the nice neighbourhood street, screaming obscenities at her favourite child. Once they’re safely inside, Vi reaches out and crushes him in a bear hug. She doesn’t say anything, just holds him, and distantly he hears Jayce shuffle around them into the kitchen but it doesn’t matter.

            He accepts it stiffly, tucking his face against her shoulder and she murmurs something soft that he doesn’t quite catch. He tries to pull away after a moment, but she tightens her grip on him. “As long as you need, Vik.” He relaxes, slightly, allowing himself to lean against her to take the strain off his leg. He lets his guard down. It is nice to be held, to be allowed to feel such deep care.

            In the kitchen, Jayce is saying something to one of the cats, something that sounds suspiciously like we’re picking you up a new cousin, would you like that? Maybe even a new sibling, yeah?

            Vi, quietly, “What is he talking about?”

            Viktor pulls back and goes to dig his phone out of his pocket before remembering that Jayce still has it. He wonders if Salo has texted again. “We’re going to visit a litter of kittens tonight and Jayce said I could bring one home.”

            Her eyebrows raise in shock, and then she laughs. “He said that? Oh, what a fucking sap. Jayce! I’m never letting you live this down!”

            Jayce sticks his head into the entryway, “Live what down?”

            “That you’re a fucking simp.”

            The other man locks eyes with Viktor, teasing, light energy sparkling in them. He doesn’t deny the accusation and doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he simply shrugs, and then disappears back around the corner, out of view.

            Warmth spreads through Viktor’s chest, and Vi reaches up to squeeze his shoulder. “You okay?”

            He nods. The initial shock and spiral and consequent crash seem to have been mitigated. There’s still the buzz of it in his bones, but it’s an afterthought. He’s glad Jayce has his phone, so he can’t be tempted to re-read the messages. “I think so,” he breathes. He wonders what he’ll do the next time something like this happens, what will happen when Jayce or Vi are inevitably busy.

            She smiles. “Good. Now, go on, I’m just making dinner and you have to tell me more about your kitten situation.”

**

            Cait came home and immediately banned Vi from attending what they’ve started calling The Kittening, to much complaint and dismay. They’d eaten early dinner and are all in the kitchen, cleaning up when Jayce stands up suddenly from loading the dishwasher, nearly knocking over Viktor, who’d been about to pass him another plate.

            “What’s up?” He asks, and Jayce pats his back pockets, grabbing Viktor’s phone.

            He slides it onto the counter and both stare at the name on the display, as it vibrates loudly. Salo.

            Vi, also in the kitchen, curious, leans over it as well. “Oh. You want me to answer it, Vik? I’ll give him a real piece of my mind.”

            Viktor’s blood has drained from his face. He’s frozen, staring at the caller ID, the photo he’d taken of Salo when they’d first got together, when things were still good. The sun is brightly shining down on them, and Salo is mid-laugh, head thrown back, mouth open, happy. They’d been on a date to one of the parks in Piltover, Viktor needing to get some fresh air and Salo happy to indulge because it meant he got to show off his favourite place.

            Salo hasn’t called him since they broke up, which means he hasn’t really looked at the photo and now it’s a cold shock to see evidence that they’d been good together, in the beginning. That somewhere along the line he did lose something more than a headache.

            “Vik?” Vi asks again, but he shakes his head.

            “Let it go to voicemail,” he says, his voice caught in his throat.

            Cait, who’s come in from the living room with more dishes, curiously glances over Vi’s shoulder. “Oh, yikes,” she says. “Is this the first time he’s phoned?”

            “Yeah,” Jayce says. “I haven’t noticed anything since this afternoon.”

            They all watch the call to voicemail, only for the screen to light up again three seconds later with another incoming call, from Salo again.

            “He’s going to spam call you,” Cait says, simply. “You should either let Vi answer or block him. Or both, I guess.”

            Viktor suddenly feels all three sets of eyes land on him. He blinks and then sighs. Is there really any other way out of this? “Vi, you can answer,” he says, “but I don’t want to hear it.”

            Vi nods. “Anything you don’t want me to say?”

            “Say whatever you want. It doesn’t matter.”

            She nods, swiping the phone from the counter and stalking into the living room. He hears her answer with a nasty, “Why don’t you know when to leave shit alone?” And flinches.

            Cait follows Vi, probably to keep her toned down to an acceptable level of angry, and Jayce stays.

            “Here,” he says, reaching out for Viktor’s hands, which have clenched into the plate he’s been holding so hard he’s surprised it hasn’t broken. Jayce takes it from him and tucks it into the dishwasher, then turns back. “How can I help make it better?”

            “Don’t know,” Viktor whispers. “I just – what gives him the right? To come into my life again and demand attention? To make it all about himself?”

            Muffled, in the living room, “I don’t give a fuck about what you want.”

            Jayce lets out a deep breath. “He’s a narcissist, Vik. It was always about him, even when you were at your worst and now he’s missing the attention you gave him. That’s all. He’s throwing a temper tantrum because you’re not around and you’re probably doing better than he is about it.”

            Viktor knows he’s right. Of course he’s right, he’s watched the whole ordeal happen from start to finish. “I’m sorry,” he says. “That I’m still dealing with this and you’re having to help me.”

            Jayce’s eyebrows furrow. “Don’t be sorry, it’s not – I’m not – I’m not mad at you, or upset with you. Salo’s a shitty person to break up with, the fallout isn’t your fault. It’s just the way things work out.”

            “Don’t call this number again, Salo. I swear to god –”

            “I’m gonna block him,” Viktor whispers. “I can’t – what if you were super busy today? What if Vi wasn’t available? I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

            Jayce, whose attention had been caught by Vi’s loud words, focuses back on Viktor. “Probably for the best. Saves you from the worrying.”

            He doesn’t know what to say to this, doesn’t know if there’s anything to say. His eyes catch the time displayed on the oven and his heart sinks. They’ll probably be late for The Kittening. “It’s almost six.”

            “I think Vi’s finishing up. If we’re going to be a few minutes late, I’m sure we can just message them to let them know.”

            Viktor swallows. “Yeah,” he says, suddenly embarrassed by his anxiety. He’s not usually this worried, this twitchy. “Yep.” He wonders if maybe he’s just repressed it all, if somehow he hasn’t been processing his feelings for so long and now that they’re being brought to the surface there’s so many of them he can’t regulate. Maybe it’s that he hasn’t really been keeping a schedule for the past few weeks and it’s starting to weigh on him. Maybe it’s that he’s been so focused Jayce he hasn’t had time for anything else.

            It doesn’t matter. They’re here now.

            Jayce gives him a small smile and nod. “Everything’s okay, Vik. You’re handling it and we’re here to help.” He points at the dishes that Viktor had been passing him. “We might as well keep cleaning the kitchen.”

            He listens to Jayce and the repetition, the familiarity of the chore, calms him. By the time Vi and Cait come back from the living room the kitchen is clean again and Viktor feels okay.

            “I don’t think he’s going to call again,” Vi says. “He said he was trying to ask you for something – some kitchen utensil? I didn’t really listen.”

            Viktor frowns. “I only took the things I had from before we were together. He got everything else.” He does a mental inventory of what he’d brought with him back to Piltover, and nothing stands out. He looks to Jayce who only shrugs.

            “Doesn’t matter!” Vi singsongs, passing him the phone. “Even if you don’t block him tonight, I don’t think he’ll bother you again.”

            He clicks on the contact. “I’m gonna block him,” he says, and while everyone is here around him, while he’s feeling brave and loved, he scrolls to the bottom and presses the block button. He confirms. He stares at his phone for a second, only half believing what he’s done, and then he looks up, into the faces of his friends. “Done.”

            Jayce nods encouragingly, reaching out to squeeze his arm, and Vi says,

            “Good job,” and Cait, standing a few steps away says,

            “And good riddance.” Which makes them all laugh.

            “You guys better go,” Vi says, ushering them out. “I’m really glad you blocked him, Vik, but you’re going to be late to The Kittening and no offense, that’s more important than anything with Salo.”

            “Get two!” Cait calls as they reach the mud room, to which Jayce says,

            “Don’t you dare encourage him,” and then they’re putting on their shoes and bustling out the door with more goodbyes and well-wishes than Viktor could even count.

            And then they’re back in the car, the events of the afternoon stretching out in front of them. Jayce reaches out and Viktor thinks it’s going to be for his hand, but he goes for his thigh instead, his fingers warm. He squeezes once and Viktor’s insides flip-flop so hard he sees red for a moment.

            “You’re gonna have to route me,” he says, backing easily out of the driveway, removing his hand to change gears and then replacing it.

            “Um, yep,” Viktor says, “they’re closer to our place. Just go that way for now and I’ll tell you when to turn.”

            “Okay.” He doesn’t say anything else, and Viktor finds himself relishing the quiet, their closeness.  

            Jayce is once again, anchoring him to the present moment, creating comfort. He glances at him, outlined in the same window, the late summer sunset streaming in from the windshield and making his skin glow golden, his eyes liquid honey, his five o’clock shadow just visible. He glances away, unable to let himself linger even though it’s all he wants. If he stares, then it means something. If he looks – well, he’s been looking for so long now it’s second nature. Looking doesn’t mean anything.

            “Right up here,” he says, glances again. He really is beautiful.

            The tilt of Jayce’s mouth has moved upwards, and he rubs his thumb along the outside of Viktor’s thigh, sending sparks shooting out through his entire nervous system. Viktor tries not to outwardly react, but he can’t help the lean towards Jayce, into the contact. After everything that’s happened today, after everything that Jayce helped him through, after feeling drained and crazy and so, so unworthy, here they are.

            “Shit,” he says, “Um next left. Sorry!”

            Jayce’s hand leaves him so he can turn quickly into the left lane, and then once it’s safe, returns, this time slightly higher. Viktor’s not sure if it’s on purpose, but he’s not complaining.

            “It’s just up here,” he says, “on the right. 1324.” He tries not to be sad that they’re reaching their destination. He tries not to hope too hard that Jayce will resume the position on their short drive home.

            They pull into the driveway and Jayce shuts off the engine. They’re only six minutes late and six minutes doesn’t feel too bad, not after the scale of today. “Ready?” Jayce asks, squeezing, making Viktor feel like a balloon about to pop.

            “The Kittening!” He says, and they pile out of the car. Viktor knocks. Jayce talks.

            They’re admitted into the house by a short woman with short curls, who’s wearing sweatpants and a t-shirt that’s full of small holes around the neck and sleeve seams. It’s nearly impossible to tell her age as she looks both young and old at the same time. Her house smells like food, something warm and hearty, and Viktor could almost be hungry again. There’s the sound of a TV playing somewhere further through the home – a sitcom, maybe? A laugh track sounds. Ahead of him, Jayce is saying something to the woman that he doesn’t catch, but she’s bringing them to a flight of stairs that go down so he can assume what it was. She looks from Jayce to Viktor, assessing his cane.

            “I can bring them up,” she says, and when Viktor is about to reassure her that he can make the stairs she shakes her head. “They’re portable. Just wait here for a moment.”

            “Do you want help?”

            “No, you just wait.”

            And then they’re left at the landing of this stranger’s house.

            “I could have went down the stairs,” Viktor hisses, and Jayce’s eyebrows raise.

            “I never doubted you could,” he replies, “I see you do stairs all the time.”

            “Isn’t that what – didn’t you just tell her - ?”

            “Oh. No. I was complimenting the painting behind you. Weren’t you listening?”

            Viktor turns to see the painting in question – something abstract that he isn’t sure is supposed to actually be anything. He tilts his head at it, taking in the colours, all the blues and greens and golds. It is pretty, he supposes. “I was thinking about the kittens,” Viktor says.

            “Mm. One track mind as always, hey?”

            He tilts his head the other way. “Is that done by – Jinx?”

            “Oh!” Jayce takes a step towards it, leaning down and squinting at the signature. “I think it is! We’ll have to tell her and Vi that we found one in the wild.”

            “You know the artist?” Asks the woman, back from downstairs. She’d come up so quietly that they both jump.

             “She’s one of our dear friend’s sister. She does great work! Oh my god.” The last exclamation is due to his having turned around, so Viktor follows suit.

            The woman has the bottom of her oversized shirt pulled from her body to create a pool for the kittens, and there they sit, unsure of their predicament. “Sorry,” she says, “I’ve had two others come by before you. There’s only two left.”

            Viktor shakes his head. He doesn’t care.

            He’s handed the orange one, and Jayce is given the calico. He doesn’t even have to look at Jayce to know exactly what’s going to come out of his mouth next.

            “Would they be sad if we only took one?”

            The woman laughs. “I’m sure they’d survive.”

            Viktor runs his fingers over the tiny kitten’s skull and he immediately starts purring. There are no words for what happens to his heart, other than to say that he’s simply fallen in love. He turns to show the cat to Jayce, and he nearly has to take a step back from the sight in front of him. Jayce, with the kitten in his massive hand, cradling her gently, lifting her up to his eye level.

            “On second thought,” says the woman, “they’d do terribly without each other. You should probably take them both.”

**

Both the kittens have names before they’re even home. Jayce has named the calico Rio and Viktor has named the orange Magic. Because everything that lead to his homecoming felt like magic.    

            They spend the rest of their evening setting up the supplies that Viktor bought and cat-proofing what they already had. They send photos to the friend groupchat and get resounding excitement back.

            “We’ll have to host again,” says Jayce, “so everyone can meet the new children.”

            Viktor beams.

            “You’re so happy with yourself, aren’t you?” Jayce teases and Viktor nods.

            He’s so happy he’s bursting at the seams. Both Rio and Magic have fallen asleep on his chest, and he doesn’t think he can ever move again.

            He does so, reluctantly, half an hour later. They set up the kitten necessities in the office, where it’s less likely that they’ll get into any trouble, and then do their nightly ritual of brushing their teeth and changing for bed together.

            Viktor crawls in first, and then Jayce follows, curling himself around Viktor, one arm under his head and wrapped back over Viktor’s shoulder and the other spread across his abdomen, something that he hasn’t done before. Something that feels possessive. Viktor likes it. Likes it a lot.

            “You never finished your work,” he whispers, leaning back into Jayce’s warmth.

            “It was just revisions for Heimerdinger,” Jayce says, tucking his chin over Viktor’s head. “Not that important.”

            “Oh, I didn’t even ask you how that went! I’m sorry!” Shame. He’d been so wrapped up in his own things that he’d forgotten.

            Jayce’s grip gets a little tighter. “You had a lot going on,” he says, softly, “and besides, it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. Definitely not worth all the worries.”

            Viktor relaxes. “That’s good,” he says. “I’m glad.”

            “I’m glad too. About a lot of things.”

            “Oh?” He reaches up and holds Jayce’s hand with both of his.

            “I’m glad that you’re here,” he says.

            “You say that a lot.”

            “I never stop being glad.”

            Viktor isn’t sure what to say, so he doesn’t say anything.

            “I’m glad you got us the kittens.”

            “I’m glad you said yes.”

            Jayce’s voice is full of sleep when he says, “’ll always say yes to you, Vik. You gotta know that.”

            “I do,” he whispers back, so quiet he’s unsure if the words really make it into the air. The only response he gets is a soft snore.

            Figures, he thinks, but he isn’t that far behind. When he dreams, he dreams of sunsets and honey. He dreams of kittens and paintings and bearhugs. He dreams of love.

Chapter Text

            Jayce immediately regrets getting the kittens. Not because he doesn’t enjoy their shenanigans, or because he doesn’t enjoy taking care of them but because they’re so small they’re so easy to lose. They disappear into couch cushions, under blankets and pillows and in the dark shadows. He and Viktor lose Rio and search for what feels like hours, only to find her in the bathtub, entranced by the leaky faucet.

            Viktor had proposed they keep them in the office until they were bigger, but Jayce can’t bring himself to limit their space even further than the apartment. He’s already bought them a cat tower that’s as tall as he is and so, so many toys. He’s already began drawing plans for a catio that will attach to the living room window and take up half their balcony.

            Not to mention the fact that watching Viktor interact with them melts his fucking heart. After the Salo Incident and the consequent Kittening, they’ve been looser with each other, more outwardly affectionate (more outwardly coupley, as Vi would say) but they’ve still not kissed and they’ve still not talked about it. Seeing Viktor on the couch or on the bed with both kittens (they adore him) curled on his chest or lap, a book or his laptop held either too far or too close to be comfortable makes him want to confess every soft, sappy intention he’s ever had for their relationship. It makes him want to join them on the couch and share in the warmth, share in the affection.

            He’s stopped stopping himself from doing it.

            Last night he’d settled in against Viktor, head on his abdomen, rising and falling with his breath, and the kittens had begrudgingly moved to make room for him. Viktor started reading aloud from his novel – he was procrastinating school work – and he’d distractedly began running his fingers through Jayce’s hair. There was a moment when he’d reached further down, tracing a line from Jayce’s chin, along his jaw, and behind the shell of his ear, back to cradle his skull in his palm that made Jayce nearly moan. Instead, he’d squirmed closer and listened to the amused tone that entered Viktor’s voice.

            He’d then been subjected to the exquisite torture of Viktor finding that soft spot of nerves behind his ear and circling it for what could have been minutes or hours or days. He has no way of knowing – he’d fallen asleep.

            Viktor has this way of not only making things better but putting him at such an ease he feels like he could conquer the world. His head is so loud, so much of the time, and around Viktor it’s quieter. It’s easier to navigate through the mess of thoughts and feelings that usually get him so wound up.

            It’d been like that with Mel when they were dating too. He thinks that’s why he was drawn to her – her steadiness. Her ability to take his frantic energy and his deep seated, abstract desires, pare them down into something useful and then help him aim them back at what he wanted to do. She’d found that he liked being the centre of attention, that it gave him a kick of adrenaline and that adrenaline focused him, made him razor sharp with wit and charisma, and then she’d sent him out to shmooze people for recruitment to their clubs, for funding opportunities.

            He’d loved her a lot. He still does, though it’s in a much different capacity. Their relationship had been unbalanced, too much on Mel to sustain and too much on Jayce to rely on. They’d drifted apart, much to the dismay of Viktor who, despite seeming jealous sometimes seemed to enjoy her presence. Maybe he’d read a little too much into the jealousy, but it doesn’t matter.

            Being around Viktor brings the same kind of clarity into his thoughts, but without the same neat ambition. It’s not streamlined for anyone’s benefit, it’s just peaceful and he never wants to leave.

            The kittens only make it worse.

**

            It’s a quiet evening at their apartment, two weeks after The Kittening, and the new additions have settled in quite nicely. They disappear less, and they’re braver. They charge around like they own the place.

            Jayce is making dinner in the kitchen – nothing fancy, just a creamy pasta that he knows Viktor loves. Viktor’s not home yet, but he’d just texted that he was getting onto the bus and that means he’s only fifteen minutes away. The radio is playing softly and he’s humming along to it, a guilty pleasure. Sometimes he doesn’t want to be in control of what he’s listening to. Sometimes it’s nice to just see where the mood takes him.

            He’s chopping onions when his phone starts buzzing on the counter and he wipes his hands on his pants before he picks it up, a flood of worry washing over him when he sees VIK<3 on the caller ID.

            He accepts the call quickly. “Hey!” He says, trying to stay cheery just in case this is something fine.

            “Hey,” Viktor says on the other side of the line, “nothing’s wrong, don’t worry. I just forgot my headphones.”

            Relief floods through Jayce’s veins. “Ah, okay,” he says, “thanks for clarifying. Couldn’t stand fifteen minutes alone with your thoughts?”

            “I’d rather die, honestly,” Viktor says, matter-of-factly. “What are you up to right now?”

            Jayce looks back to his onions and the dinner he’s making. “Just started cooking. Was hoping to have it ready for you when you got home but I think I was a little late.”

            A chuckle. “That’s okay. Maybe I can help when I get there.”

            “Mm,” Jayce says, the unspoken truth that Viktor is neither helpful nor wanted in the cooking known by both. “Sure, you could.”

            Another chuckle, this one with more amusement, and then a silence followed by. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to have coffee today.”

            Jayce sets up the phone on speaker so he can continue his food prep. “Oh, that’s okay,” he says. “Were you able to get the things done you wanted to?”

            “Mostly. I – uh, I don’t know. I’m starting to think that I shouldn’t have taken the lab section.”

            “Oh, how come?” The onions and garlic are dumped into the hot frying pan, sizzling. “Hold on, V. Gonna get you off the counter.” He readjusts so that his phone is on the bottom shelf of one of the cupboards. “That better?”

            “Yeah, I just hear you now.”

            “Good. Why are you regretting the lab section?”

            “I don’t think I’m cut out for teaching anyone anything. It’s a – well, you know, it’s a first year course and they’re so disinterested in everything I have to say. I – I’m halfway through marking their first assignment and most of them are failing it incredibly.”

            “Hm.”

            “Professor Kirammen said that it’s pretty standard for a first assignment, but I don’t know.”

            “Vik, you’re teaching a first-year physics lab. Half the people in there wouldn’t be taking it if they had the choice. Some of them are probably going to drop out, anyways. I don’t think their disinterest or their bad grades are necessarily a poor reflection on your teaching, not yet at least. Maybe you can go through things in more detail next week? And see what happens then?”

            Viktor sighs. “Yeah,” he mutters. “Or maybe I’m just not cut out for it.”

            Jayce doesn’t believe it for a second. He’s watched Viktor give impassioned speeches about very generally boring concepts and leave everyone who’s deigned to listen in awe. Jayce may have been a schmoozer, but Viktor has a genuine light that’s easy to see and follow when he really gets into it. “I think you just need to get back into the swing of things,” Jayce says.

            The traffic sounds around Viktor get louder. “I just got off the bus,” he says. “I’ll be up in a sec. Oh – actually, fuck. I forgot my key. I’ll buzz in.”

            “Oh, yep. Okay.” Jayce wipes his hands on the towel he’s thrown over his shoulder to save his pants and strides to the intercom, answering it before it has the chance to ring even once. “Vik?” He asks.

            “The one and only,” says Viktor, his voice grainy and distorted, echoing through on the phone speaker as well.

            Jayce presses the button to let him in. And then he goes back to cooking. One minute later Viktor is knocking on the door, and he wipes his hands off again, muttering annoyance to himself that’s not real.

            Viktor is standing in the hallway, leaning heavily on his cane, the bags under his eyes so dark Jayce is surprised how he’s awake at all.

            “You okay?”

            Viktor sighs. “Just let me in, Jayce,” he says, and Jayce does just that.

            “Anything you want me to do for you?”

            “Mm. Smells good.” He takes a seat at the entry bench and painstakingly unties his shoes.

            “Want me to – ”

            “No, Jayce. I’m okay.”

            Jayce nods. He hovers for another half a second before retreating to the kitchen, where he’s on the final step. “Food’s ready in like two minutes,” he calls out.

            “Okay,” Viktor calls back. “I’m just going to go put on comfier clothes and wash my face.”

            Jayce goes back to humming along to the radio and plates out two dinners. Out of the corner of his eye he sees Rio going skidding around the corner towards the bedroom, eager to say hello to her other father after such a long day apart. Jayce isn’t sure why cats have been popularized as aloof – neither of theirs could stand to keep their own business if they tried. He hasn’t been alone for a second since they came home. Viktor’s a factor in that, too, of course. But that’s more on purpose.

            Viktor limps back out into the kitchen a minute later, Rio on his shoulder, clothed in his pajamas. Soft, Jayce thinks. He wants to ball the fabric of the shirt in his hand. Instead, he gestures Viktor towards the living room.

            “Go sit,” he says, “I’ll bring it in for you. You want a drink?”

            Viktor pauses, opens his mouth to say something, and then thinks better of it. “Just water, please,” he mutters instead.

            “Okie dokie,” Jayce chimes, taking out a glass and filling it before following Viktor and his passenger into the living room. He waits until Viktor’s comfortable in the corner – his favourite spot – before he hands him the goods.

            “Oh, this looks so good,” he says. “Thank you.”

            “Mm, not a problem! You know it!” He loves to cook for Viktor. He would cook every meal for him for the rest of their lives if he could.

            He goes back into the kitchen and grabs his portion, making sure everything’s off before he joins Viktor on the couch. “You’re going to figure it out, you know,” he says, after a few bites and Viktor looks at him, confused.

            “Huh?”

            “The teaching. I know you’re going to figure it out.”

            “Oh. Hm, yeah. I don’t know. Thanks for the faith in me, though.”

            “Always.” He grins at him, and Viktor goes a little red in the cheeks.

            “Ass,” he murmurs, but there’s no malice in it.

            They finish their food and Viktor splays himself across Jayce’s lap as they scroll through shows to watch. Jayce rests one hand across his chest and grabs a handful of the shirt Vik put on. It’s as soft as he thought it would be.

**

            His mom calls him the next afternoon while he’s teaching and he doesn’t get to it until he’s in his office, a handful of assignments to mark thrown down on his desk, looking like a Sisyphean task.

            He pulls out his phone, sees the missed call.

            A text, too, that simply reads call me back when you have a moment, dear.

            It could be nothing – his mom calls him all the time – but there’s a dark feeling in the pit of his stomach that maybe it isn’t. Maybe there’s something wrong.

            He stands and flips his In Office! Come Say Hi! sign to its other, less friendly side. In A Meeting! Please Come Back Later! and shuts the door, clicking through to call her back.

            It rings twice and then she’s on the other side. “Hello, dear,” she says.

            “Hi, mamá, just calling you back. Is everything okay?”

            There’s a long sigh over the line and Jayce’s heart sinks. “No, mijo, I don’t think it is.”

            He falls back into his office chair, waiting for her to continue, worry building up.

            “It’s your papá,” she says, and the weight of the world is in her voice. “He’s not doing well. They – I – well, he’s taken a turn for the worst. They’re recommending that I put him in a full-time care home.”

            Jayce leans forward, his elbows on his knees. They knew this day was going to come – he’d been declining so quickly for so long – but it still comes as a shock. “Are you going to?” He breathes, not wanting to hear the response.

            “I don’t think I have a choice, mijo. He only remembers me sometimes now. I am a stranger to him, and he gets angry with me, in the evenings – I – ” she cuts herself off. “I know you are very busy, but can you come home? Just for a little while, so we can settle him into his new place together? I know he is not really there most of the time, but his memory, I – I think he would have liked that. He – well. We’ll talk about it more when you get here.”

            He swallows hard, imagining his step-father, the light of his mother’s life, the one who loved her more than anything in the entire world, forgetting who she is. Becoming hostile with her. It breaks his heart. “Yes, mamá,” he whispers. “I’ll talk to everyone. Get some time off. I might – I might still have to work, but I can be there.”

            “Okay. Thank you, Jayce. I – let me know, okay? Let me know as soon as you do.”

            “Of course,” he breathes. “I’ll make arrangements and be out as soon as I can. See you soon, mamá.”

            “See you soon. Love you so much, to the moon and back.”

            “Love you too, mamá.”

            She hangs up before he does, and he sits there in the silence of his office, his head in his hands. He’d been so naïve in believing that there would be more time for more visits. He’d been so naïve for thinking that there would never come a time when his father (the man he calls his father), slowly declining for years, would finally hit a place he couldn’t come back from. He’d been so stupid.

            He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes and drags them down his face. He doesn’t know how much time he can get away with taking off, but family emergency will have to count for something. He’ll convince them he can do things while he’s there, even teach over Zoom if necessary, the only thing is –

            Viktor.

            He looks at the time. They were supposed to meet for coffee five minutes ago. There’s a text message that he missed while he’d been talking to his mother. It says, i’m here where ya at? and he doesn’t know how to respond. Doesn’t know how to do anything. He opens the message, sees the three dots that means Viktor’s typing and stops.

            things good? u still coming down?

            He blinks at it. At the message from the man who means so much to him, who he couldn’t imagine a world without. Who he couldn’t imagine forgetting.

            Something’s happened. Need to tell you in private. Can you come up here? I’m not in a meeting, the doors open just come in.

            okay coming!!

            He presses the side of his phone to his forehead, still leaning forward, unsure that he can sit up, that he can face the world again. What has it come to? He asks himself. What am I supposed to do with all of this, now?