Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jayce snapped his pocket watch shut and cast another expectant look around the courtyard. He was far from the only soul basking in the lovely summer afternoon, but he was the only one without company. Other tables were occupied by Academy students taking lunch together and serene civilians catching up before they headed home, all chattering and laughing and toasting those sweet, foaming drinks at each other. When they'd first stopped by a few weeks ago, curious as to what confectionaries would be offered with the turn of the seasons, Jayce had turned up his nose at the concoctions, much to his companion's amusement.

And now, he was waiting on said companion with two frothing cups. One was pale blue, supposedly infused with the taste of the ocean, and the other, which he'd ordered for himself, was a deep, rich purple, like a plum ripened to perfection. Jayce had never traveled to Targon's coasts nor visited Ixtal and gazed upon the Shadow Seas, but it was a nice flair. Certainly, it was the kind of artistic touch that Viktor appreciated.

Viktor. Where was he? Neither of them considered timeliness a strong suit of theirs, but they'd just submitted a proposal to the Council. The Councilors always snapped their fingers, demanding more detail, yet they invariably took days on end to ponder the proposals and mull over the ideas – and, with any luck, they'd take even longer this time. Jayce had left some of their notes purposefully obtuse. So sue him; what harm would one week of peace do?

But, then, that brought him back around to his question: where was Viktor on this beautiful summer's day, the first afternoon they'd gotten to enjoy since proposing their Hexgate theory to the Council?

“Jayce.”

A soft voice, barely loud enough to be heard through the hubbub. Jayce picked it out in a heartbeat; he'd trained himself to hear that voice in any circumstance, whenever it called to him. A skill that'd served him well, even if it was... less than innocent. Either way, Jayce turned and grinned at the figure picking his way through the crowd.

Viktor leaned heavily on his cane; his limp had gotten more pronounced in recent weeks, and Jayce could only assume the stress of the Hexgates hadn't helped. They'd soon need to think about a new design, one that took the pressure off of Viktor's wrist. But not today. Today, his partner glided past the obstacles, a smile curling his lips, and sank into the opposite chair.

“What kept you?” Jayce chided.

Viktor hummed, propping his cane beside him and interlacing slender fingers on the table. “Councilor Hoskel had a few questions that couldn't wait until our meeting next Friday. I hope I suitably clarified his concerns.”

A flash of mischief darted through amber eyes, and Jayce chuckled. “I'm sure you did.” Viktor's lips quirked, but he reached for Jayce's cup without a response. Jayce smacked his hand away. “Ah-ah. That one's yours.”

Viktor glanced down at his own cup, as if noticing it for the first time, and Jayce's stomach flipped in slow, lazy circles. What had Viktor been planning to do?

“This one?” his partner echoed, and Jayce jerked himself back to the present – back to Viktor's incredulous gaze, though that mischievous glint lingered in his sparkling eyes. “Jayce, this looks like a student's attempt at losing their faculties as quickly as possible. Did you have special plans for us tonight?”

Jayce laughed. Beating away the flicker of longing was a familiar burden. “The vendor was adamant that it tasted like the ocean.”

“Ocean water is alkaline.”

“For me,” Jayce implored. “If we can't go to the ocean ourselves, I want one of us to enjoy it.”

“'Enjoy it,'” Viktor tittered back, but he swirled his cup appraisingly, then took a careful sip. Jayce lifted his eyebrows. Viktor stared down at the brew for a long moment before licking his lips. “Hm. That's not terrible.”

“Give it,” Jayce ordered, and Viktor passed it over. Sure enough, the pale froth was... really quite tasty. Jayce didn't think it tasted much like the ocean, but that was probably for the best. It was light, definitely tropical, with a fruity hint underpinning the flavors. In his uncultured opinion, anyway. “That's good,” he decided, and Viktor chuckled.

“I'm glad you agree. Now, could I have my drink back, seeing as you're so determined to finish it for me?”

Jayce kicked up a suitable amount of melodrama for the teasing, but he readily passed the cup back to Viktor and set into his own. The rich purple brew was less awe-inspiring, if only because it didn't invoke the same fantasy of lounging on a beach somewhere, gazing out over crystal-blue waves. Jayce stubbornly sipped it anyway. Seasonal drinks burned a hole in his coin pouch, and he was loathe to let his Academy allowance go to waste.

“We don't have the funds to waste on treats like this,” Viktor mused, as if hearing the thought.

Jayce knuckled his forehead and willed his headache away. It was a persistent beast, the headache. “Don't remind me,” he sighed. “My landlord's getting on my case about my next payment. I guess she still doesn't trust me after last month.”

“That's not an undue concern.” Jayce shot Viktor a pleading look. His partner snorted and took another sip of frothy goodness. “But a stress we don't want on your shoulders,” he conceded, and Jayce dipped his chin, grateful. “If the worst comes to pass, I'd gladly offer use of my couch.”

“What a joke,” Jayce scoffed. “The creators of Hextech packed into one Academy boarding room while waiting on their next big breakthrough.”

“Waiting for the Council to approve their next big breakthrough,” Viktor corrected, and Jayce dipped his chin again. “I've been thinking, what if we pursued a miniature construction near the pipes while the, uh-” Viktor's lip curled ever so slightly, though he hid it behind the rim of his cup. “-esteemed Councilors mull over our proposal?”

Jayce rubbed his chin. “An independent project.”

“We've done enough of those, no?”

A few years ago, Jayce would've agreed without hesitation. He and Viktor always got their best results without anyone leering over their shoulders – save for each other, of course. But he'd started to chase the Council's approval more than breakthrough, and even admitting that horrified him. Hextech had all sorts of potential, yes, but they needed breathing room to think of how to utilize it. For all their influence, the Council couldn't order them to think faster or think better.

Though they certainly seemed set on trying, which was why he and Viktor had escaped. For the next week, the inventors of Hextech were out of office.

“Absolutely not,” Jayce said aloud, and Viktor lifted a thin eyebrow. “We've been working ourselves to the bone. We can do that with or without their approval-”

“Or their knowledge,” Viktor contributed mildly. Jayce flashed him a sharp grin.

“Or their knowledge. So let's wait until they say 'yea' or 'nay' to this version of the Hexgates. We've got a few days to do whatever we want. Let's make the most of it.”

Viktor drummed his fingers on his cup. “'The most of it,'” he echoed, tilting his head. Something in his appraising gaze made Jayce's chest tighten. Paired with his partner's lackadaisical smile, Jayce's fingertips were starting to buzz. “I suppose I could listen to your, uh, expertise for a day or two. What did you have in mind?”

Oh, the irony. In his Academy days, Jayce had never shied away from straightforwardness, honesty, and that'd made him a popular figure for all the right reasons. He rarely did now, either. But asking Viktor out wasn't as simple as a coffee date or an evening at the theatre – if only because they already did those things. No, Viktor was... special. Gods, he was so special. Asking him out like that would be an affront to his incredible ingenuity and his endless enthusiasm and-

Well, the bottom line was that Jayce had to find the perfect opening to ask Viktor out, and with each new grandiose plan he concocted, he was starting to think that the opening might be as simple as a moment like this.

But this moment wasn't the one. It wasn't special enough. Not for Viktor.

So Jayce just flashed his partner- his partner- a grin and pointed to a sign he'd watched go up earlier in the afternoon. “Some Ionian merchants are showing off their latest gadgets in the Pavilion. Wanna see if we can find some fresh inspiration?”

Viktor tapped his fingers against his cup, one at a time. The burden of rejection weighed heavy in Jayce's soul, even as he did his best to brush it aside. This wasn't rejection. This was friends hanging out. If they didn't go today, maybe tomorrow. If not tomorrow, maybe another point during this week. And if they made absolutely nothing of their break, Jayce still had other chances. He and Viktor had all the time in the world.

His partner stood abruptly, and Jayce started.

“I'm always curious to see what our peers in other countries are devising,” Viktor agreed, and nodded at the cups. “You already paid, yes?”

“Uh-”

The static of purple, that horrific, pounding purple. Closed eyes. Forever closed, sutured, knit shut by the Arcane and obsession and power power POWER–

“Jayce?”

He sucked in a rattling breath and looked up. Viktor sat in the chair across from him once more, a frown creasing his brow.

“What?” Jayce gasped out.

“I said, perhaps another time,” Viktor said slowly, his frown deepening. “We should not wait for the Council to finish sitting on their hands. Are you feeling alright?”

And that...

That was how the conversation had gone the first time.

Much as Jayce willed things to be different, the past was long gone. So were the days when he and Viktor had sat in this courtyard, teasing over drinks and laughing about tomorrow. Recollections were all Jayce had left. He'd never called his memory perfect by any standard, but in this place, divorced from time and reality, he could live out old conversations.

And that kept the static away. If Jayce jerked his body around, if he flicked his head too fast or glanced too sharply, the illusion began to fracture. He saw the endless, off-color abyss. He saw sickly amber skies, a mockery of Viktor's beautiful eyes, and pillars of flesh and bones soaring in a grotesque lattice, forming a castle of gore. He saw crystalline white. He saw sickly purple. He saw that mask attached to a fractured mechanical body, ever just a glimpse away from shattering this courtyard and dragging Jayce into its clutches.

He didn't know what it wanted. He didn't know why he could only recreate memories from this courtyard – the ones in their lab were much more abundant, even stained by darker times. But for some reason or another, this courtyard worked. This courtyard was stable enough to retain his sanity, giving him the duality of the past and the present in a simultaneous weave, and that was all Jayce needed.

Stupid. Stupid to think that their meddling with the Arcane wouldn't have repercussions, stupid to put the undercity at risk with their secondary chambers for the Hexgates, stupid to strive for the obsession that'd powered him all his academic life.

Ekko was gone. Heimerdinger was gone. They'd both been whisked away, thrown into gods-only-knew where. Were they alive like Jayce, sustained by stupid, tender, lovestruck memories of the man he should've asked out when he had the chance? Or had the mask taken them? Shredded their minds, decimated their physical bodies, absorbed them into the spiraling infinity Jayce now understood he and Viktor never should've messed with?

“Jayce?”

He looked at Viktor again. He missed his partner. He missed this younger face, yes, missed the years before the disease had stolen Viktor's health. But he'd give anything just to see his partner again, even with Arcane-infused, kaleidoscopic eyes and that ring to his voice that'd given Jayce a headache for weeks. He'd give anything just to be able to talk one last time. To apologize for how short-sighted and arrogant he'd been. To say goodbye.

Jayce was going to die here. He knew that, deep down. But until this courtyard fractured, he'd replay these memories, over and over, and try to find a way out.

So he smiled and hoped it looked genuine. “Sorry. Just tired. I'll pick up supplies from the lab and meet you at the pipes.”

And Viktor smiled back – just like he was supposed to.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I'll pay.”

Jayce froze. He swallowed once, twice, but even then, the ball of terror in his throat wouldn't dislodge. “What?” he rasped.

Viktor waved a dismissive hand and pulled his pouch from his pocket, absently clinking through the coins. “I happened to win a bet with Heimerdinger last night,” he said, laughter in his voice. “And I figure you're the best person to spend it on.”

Jayce willed his hammering heart to slow. He... he remembered that bet. Viktor had told him all the details later; something about a Hexgate matrix and permeability. But that bet happened days after this lunch. Why were things going out of order? Gods, had the courtyard already shattered? Jayce had been so certain he'd have more time. He hadn't noticed any tears where flickering infinity came creeping into his safe haven, but-

“I can't do something nice for you?” Viktor scoffed. “Honestly. I am not cheap.”

That- that was familiar. They'd had that debate around this time – had it been today? Maybe Jayce's recollections weren't as streamlined as he'd thought. Maybe he'd fumbled a few details here and there, and the courtyard reacted accordingly, tossing his memories together in a hodgepodge display of yearning. Gods, this would be so humiliating if anyone else was here to see it.

So Jayce steadied his breathing and nodded, jerkily. “I know you're not,” he promised. “I'm sorry. I just- I thought I was paying today. It's the least I can do, you know?”

Viktor hesitated a moment. That wasn't right. And his eyes – Jayce had spent so long memorizing the swirl of brilliant amber. The light reflected differently now. His partner's eyes weren't pure amber.

“You've done enough for me,” Viktor murmured.

That wasn't right, either.

Jayce didn't point it out.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Kushioka's work has some merit,” Viktor admitted, a scowl creasing his brow, “but this theory is incomprehensible. How is anyone supposed to derive meaning from this abstract collection of symbols and numbers? It needs tangible grounds to be considered a theory. This is better classified as a scientific whim.”

Kushioka's collated book of theories hadn't crossed the Ionian Ocean for another two years. Jayce dug his nails into his palm and screwed his mouth shut. The courtyard appeared intact.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Viktor delicately chewed his bite of cake, much like a connoisseur organizing a critique, then nodded. “I think I'm developing a fondness for lemon. This is absolutely delicious. Jayce, have you had a slice?”

Viktor hated lemon pastries. He always had.

“No,” Jayce said lowly.

The recollection of his partner shrugged and kept eating.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Fissures no longer appeared in the courtyard. Jayce often paced its perimeter, and though his instincts warned him not to test its boundaries, he still catalogued any daily changes. Mostly, they were small, the flowerbeds shifting color with the seasons and the attire of others melting between loose, spring clothes and winter garb in alignment with his memories. But when he'd first arrived, however “long ago” that'd been, he'd noticed random glitches in the tiles or a terrifyingly blank face where there should've been eyes and a smile.

Jayce crouched beside a recently repaired patch of road and dragged his fingers over the stones. A web of white iridescence stretched between two artfully sculpted pieces. Beyond, in the faintest crack that remained, Jayce saw off-yellow infinity.

When he returned, after the next memory had cycled through, the crack was sealed.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“We should visit Demacia,” Viktor posed. Despite this being a later memory, maybe only a year and some change before the fateful Progress Day, his features were healthy. Even as they headed toward a table, he didn't lean on his cane as heavily as he should've, and so far, in the minutes they'd been talking, he hadn't coughed. Not once.

“Why Demacia?” Jayce muttered. He longed to grasp his hammer, but it'd been whisked away once he landed in this courtyard. He hadn't had it back then, after all. As much as he missed its terrifying power, especially now, maybe it was better like this.

Viktor glanced over. His eyes were not amber. “No specific reason. I've never had the chance to visit. I hear its architecture is beautiful.”

“Architecture,” Jayce echoed, fighting the urge to snarl.

“Yes. It would be nice, wouldn't it?”

Viktor's hand drifted toward Jayce's arm. Jayce snatched it away, then dropped into his chair and smiled as if nothing had happened. Though his memories included the tactile sensations he'd experienced at the time, too much sound or smell or taste made his haven more prone to fissures. And touching Viktor – gods only knew what that would stir up.

Especially when this Viktor looked at him with an inexplicable sadness behind his eyes. He shouldn't look like that, yet. They should still be friends. Partners.

Jayce questioned if he hadn't severed that bond long before their disagreement. He'd accepted the title of the “Man of Progress” only a week or two after this memory. He'd talked it over with Viktor, but 'talked' wasn't the right word. It was more like he'd sung the Council's praises and harped on how much more funding they'd get if he accepted this offer, and Viktor, never the type to crave the spotlight, had shrugged and agreed.

Jayce wished he could smash that fucking mug now. Smash every cup that'd printed him by his lonesome with those insidious little words. Man of Progress.

“I'm going to decline the Council's offer,” Jayce blurted, and instantly, he knew he'd misstepped. He was playing with forces he didn't understand. This specter across the table wasn't the Viktor of his memories, and for all he knew, the masked figure was merely biding its time, waiting for him to expose it. Did it play games? Did it possess that kind of human cruelty?

But he refused to take the words back – call it a scientist's lack of self-preservation – and Viktor's expression shifted.

“Why?”

He shouldn't know. He couldn't know. Jayce hadn't told him anything for another week.

“It's misleading, isn't it?” Jayce said heavily. “Hextech is ours. I wonder if they'd be willing to rebrand if I said I wouldn't do it unless you were standing next to me. The 'Men of Progress' has a better ring to it, right?”

Viktor hesitated again. The courtyard should've flickered. That was what happened when Jayce's happy little fantasies strayed too far from the designated story.

“I'm not opposed to the idea,” Viktor murmured. “I think you said Ms. Kiramman has an interest in visual design, no?”

Jayce closed his eyes until he no longer wanted to scream.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

In his peripheral, a fissure fizzed into existence, allowing the insidious hiss through, presenting glimpses of the destitution beyond.

It sealed as soon as it'd appeared, zipped shut in record time. For less than a heartbeat, white iridescence shimmered in its wake.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Viktor moved to sit, and Jayce held up a hand. “Stop,” he muttered. He sounded so much more tired than he would've liked. This would be the ideal moment for demands. For bravado. All he could muster up was a broken heart he'd long since learned to live with, and he cast the man who wasn't his partner an exhausted look. “I know you don't need your cane.”

Viktor's fingers wrapped tighter around it, and his gaze darted to the table, where their latest meal was spread across the intricate metal. Then he sighed, a silent sound that shuddered through his shoulders, and set the cane aside.

Jayce had been expecting it for so long. But he still shivered, and fear sloshed around his gut.

“How long have you known?” the not-Viktor asked. An eerie ring hung behind each word, and had Jayce not been so fucking tired, he might've tried to run. The effort would be fruitless, he knew, but animal instincts were not beholden to reason.

“How long have I known?” Jayce repeated, incredulous. “It was pretty obvious when you started rewriting the past. My memory isn't the best, but I know when things happen out of order. Those memories are all I have left. What are you trying to do to me?”

The not-Viktor finally glanced at him, visibly startled. “Do to you? Jayce, I-”

“Don't you fucking use his voice."

It burst out like a blade, and Jayce pressed a hand to his throat. He could've sworn he felt blood trickling back down, clogging his lungs, and the hot prick of tears stung his eyes. He swallowed and scrubbed his face, and he glared up at the creature that dared to wear Viktor's skin like a mask. Like the masked thing, tormenting him in this place outside time and space and reality, and gods, Jayce just wanted this to be over.

So he set his jaw and met the not-Viktor's gaze with all the pent-up frustration and terror he'd been clamping down. “Either let me go, or kill me,” he snarled. “I'm not going to play your gods-damned game.”

They hung in stasis for too long. Jayce's concept of time had been shot to shit, and even if his pocket watch still worked, it wouldn't have done him any good. The scene around them had frozen, suspending the happy students and blissful couples and laughing friends in a bubble of infinity. If only they were real. If only any of this could be real again.

Slowly, the not-Viktor set his fingertips on the table. “You don't believe it's me,” he said, his voice soft, and Jayce set his jaw against the shiver threatening to prick up his spine. “I understand why. But it wasn't my intention to disorient you. I thought that this would make it easier.”

“Easier?” Jayce scoffed. “Whatever you say."

“Would you be more comfortable if you saw me as I am now?”

Jayce scowled. “Sure. Show me why you wanted to use my partner's face so badly.”

Something like pain darted across the not-Viktor's face. Jayce wanted to punch him- it- for trying to twist his heart. The being flattened its hands to the table, and slowly, purple arcs leapt across its body. They swept up one limb and down the next, and even though the process seemed like it should take ambling minutes, Jayce blinked, and the figure had changed entirely. Its hands were purple, and-

Its hands... were...

Its face.

“I told you,” Viktor murmured, straightening. “It's me.”

Jayce couldn't think. He hadn't- well, he didn't know what he'd expected. He'd never expected to see Viktor again. But even in those few minutes they'd had, he memorized those kaleidoscopic eyes, ever shifting, darting from one hue to another. Blue cloth wrapped around Viktor's shoulders and torso and hugged his hips, and the fabric's pattern exposed the purple swirls criss-crossing his ribs. Metal and straps wrapped around his hips, too, but his hair-

Long, as soft as it had always looked. The underside had turned white; some streaks darted higher, adding artificial highlights. And that swirl – purple and gold, metal and magic – had expanded to cover his cheeks, creeping up his cheekbones and sweeping beneath eyes that still bore dark circles.

Jayce chomped down on the inside of his cheek. To his utter fucking relief, the pain jarred him out of his spiraling thoughts. This was not the time. It would never again be the right time, not to mention all the technicalities of what the hell was happening.

(But gods, Viktor was more beautiful than ever.)

“I don't understand,” Jayce bit out, and he was relieved yet again when the words came out steady. “I don't understand anything that's going on.”

“I know,” Viktor soothed. He sank into the other chair, much more gracefully than he ever had when- well, he was still alive, to Jayce's knowledge. When he'd still been human, maybe. “You didn't know the first thing about how to protect yourself, but you did so all the same. And you survived until I could find you.”

“What did I do?” Jayce snapped. “What's out there? Why does it keep trying to get in?”

“I don't think you want to know what's out there.”

Anger boiled up in Jayce's chest – misplaced, he knew, but undeniable. “I know I shouldn't have used the Hexcore to bring you back, but if you're not even going to give me a straight answer-”

Viktor's hands shot out and grasped his. A charge leaped between their hands, skin to skin, and Jayce flinched. Something- that infuriating something- passed across Viktor's face, then vanished, and just as quickly, the other man released him. Jayce only realized after he'd let go that he couldn't tell whether Viktor's hands were warm or cold.

“I'm not trying to keep anything from you,” Viktor promised, and oh, it hurt so much worse to know it was really his partner on the other side of that soft voice. “The Arcane cannot be perceived by the human mind. Forgive the description, but I'd prefer that you keep your brain inside your skull.”

“As opposed to outside?” Jayce asked faintly.

Viktor bobbled his head in consideration – Jayce wished he'd stop leaning into such familiar habits. “As opposed to dashed away in the incomprehensibility of the infinite.”

“Okay. So, what, I'm- trapped in a physical manifestation of the Arcane?”

“More like you created a physical manifestation within the Arcane. The world you see outside this place is a mere glimpse of everything that exists beyond human comprehension. I don't know what the creature out there wants from you, but by grounding yourself in a tangible reality, you are effectively rebuffing its efforts.” Viktor paused, then offered the ghost of a smile. “It's actually quite impressive,” he added, quieter. “You shouldn't have had the knowledge to do this, let alone maintain it for so long.”

Jayce swallowed a thousand more questions and tried to concentrate on what was within his power. “How long is so long?”

“A few months. I sensed when you were dragged into the weave of the Arcane, but it took some time to track you down.”

“When did you show up here? Start... integrating into my memories?”

At that, Viktor's smile grew a little wider, a little more genuine. “It wasn't so difficult,” he chided, which wasn't an answer at all. “I lived these myself. I remember these conversations. At first, I merely watched. But when I noticed the creature closing in, I thought, eh, perhaps you needed more direct intervention. If only so I could patch the holes in the courtyard.”

So the seals had been Viktor's doing. “When?” Jayce repeated, tiredly.

“The week we submitted the Hexgate proposal to the Council. You asked if I wanted to see the Ionian demonstration.”

Jayce squeezed his eyes shut, willing the cacophony in his head to settle. “The first time you broke the script.”

“Yes. I wanted to determine whether you were still sentient, or if your consciousness had been trapped in this perpetual loop of the past. I was... relieved to find you still in there.”

I'm always curious to see what our peers in other countries are devising. You already paid, yes?

Jayce forced himself to stare at the man sitting across the table. (Maybe 'man' wasn't so accurate. He didn't know. He didn't know the first fucking thing about Viktor's existence, and he'd been the one to invoke it. What a gods-dammed excuse of a scientist.) “Am I just a lab rat to you?” he hissed. “You've been poking and prodding to see how my psyche reacts while I'm trapped in here?”

That same thing-like-hurt darted across Viktor's face. Jayce told himself it didn't matter. Didn't exist.

“I had to. I had no idea what you'd do if-”

“You said you were done with me. So what the hell are you doing here?”

This wasn't what he wanted their last conversation to be. And yes, yes, Jayce knew that he'd already be dead without his partner- his former partner's- intervention. But, gods, when would he finally be allowed to die? Viktor had saved his life all those years ago, and together, they'd made Hextech. Together, they'd brought Piltover into a new era. And then, Jayce had killed someone – killed so many people. And then, he'd broken yet another promise and used the Hexcore and turned one of the few people he'd loved in his life into... this. And then, he'd gotten himself trapped within the Arcane.

All for meddling with a force he didn't understand. That he could never understand, apparently. The mage should've let him die on the tundra. Viktor should've let him walk off the workshop's edge. That masked creature outside this domain should just consume him and be done with it.

Viktor stood suddenly, taking his cane as he rose. “I have to go,” he said, dodging Jayce's gaze.

“You can't exist in two places at once?” Jayce asked wearily.

Viktor started to smile, then seemed to think better of it. “No. I apologize for not visiting more often. Do you want to resume the memory loop? I have fortified this place enough so that you can exist without a crutch.”

Jayce inhaled to request the memories once more; it'd be easier to sink into delusion and wait for something to finally claim his mortal life. But then, the pain of these months caught up. Memories would drive him insane now – especially knowing that the real Viktor could adopt his younger countenance at any time, and Jayce would never know unless Viktor allowed him to.

“Leave it,” he sighed. “It doesn't matter, right?”

Viktor frowned. But he waved a hand, and the courtyard cleared in a rippling wave of altered reality. The sun shone overhead, and a pleasant breeze drifted between the cheerfully colored buildings, but all the tables and people and chatter faded into mist, leaving behind only their favorite table and a silence thick enough to devour.

“You can summon food and drink at your will,” Viktor added. “And, if you become desperate, you should be able to reactivate the memory cycle.”

“A glorified prison,” Jayce scoffed.

Viktor said nothing. He vanished without a warning, and Jayce was left staring at the spot where the man who wasn't a man had been.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I believe I've discovered a method to get you out of here. It still requires much research, but it is viable.”

Jayce didn't respond. Viktor stood somewhere behind him, he estimated, but he didn't lift his head, didn't bother searching for the right words. His spot on the tiles was comfortable enough, thanks. He'd often taken to lying right here, his hands tucked behind his head as he gazed up at the sun, darkly amused by the fact that his eyes never watered. Sometimes Viktor showed up. More often, he was gone. Jayce had long since given up on the concept of time.

He could never tell when the other man left. He only learned which one it was when he finally sat up: he either found himself alone or spotted Viktor sitting at their table, facing away, his head bowed as if scribbling in a notebook.

Today, their table was empty.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should have this. It keeps the idle mind at bay.”

Jayce glanced up long enough to see Viktor place a notebook on the table. The other man sat facing away, as ever, but his voice seemed to pierce Jayce's chest.

“You won't be able to take it beyond the confines of this courtyard, but, uh... it is better than nothing.”

No, it isn't, Jayce thought, and closed his eyes again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He caught himself flipping through the notebook. A pen – his favorite pen, he noticed with a jolt – sat beside it, tempting him to reconcile with his thoughts on the ever-faithful page. He'd never been the journaling type, but diving into equations and formulas when his emotions became too loud to sit with? That was a familiar vice.

Jayce pressed his thumb against one of the hundred blank pages, then sliced it across the edge. It didn't bleed. Paper cuts weren't a thing here, then.

His fingers twitched with the urge to jot the observation down. Jayce tossed the notebook shut, fueled by a sudden, all-consuming jitter, then snatched it up and hurled it across the courtyard with a roar.

It was back in its place a few “hours” later. Jayce didn't throw it again.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“You should try to imagine a meal for yourself. Satisfying physical needs does wonders for the damaged psyche.”

Eating alone, Jayce scoffed to himself. Though a common practice in his youth, he'd grown accustomed to laboratory dinners with Viktor, the occasional lunch with Sky or Caitlyn, breakfast in the form of a piece of toast crammed into his mouth while he sorted his tools and continued whatever work he'd left off the night before. Eating here would drive him insane.

Hah. More insane.

“What about a fruit from the commune? You need to eat something, Jayce.”

Words boiled like acid on Jayce's tongue – what commune? What the fuck are you still doing here? He swallowed them down. He refused to hurt himself any further. He didn't need to know anything about the world beyond this prison. Why would he? He was never going back. Not unless this courtyard cracked, and he escaped through the masked creature.

Sometimes, that fate didn't sound so bad. He almost welcomed it.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

For the first time since Viktor's reveal, Jayce didn't feel... awful.

He never felt good. That was a given. But his chest didn't ache as it usually did. Viktor had been gone for a few “days,” and in his absence, Jayce had found a wonderful spot on the stairs leading to the raised courtyard. The top stair supported his head just right, and sunlight warmed his whole body, chasing off the persistent aches and pains that'd haunted his bones since his “arrival.” Jayce laced his fingers over his stomach, breathed deep, and almost, almost felt relaxed enough to doze off.

Footsteps suddenly echoed through the courtyard, muted though they always were. Jayce blew out a heavy breath but didn't move. There went his attempts at “sleep.” He knew, logically, it would've been a pointless venture, but the prospect appealed. A break from nothingness. An escape from his thoughts, and-

Fingers brushed his face.

Jayce's first instinct was to throw Viktor away and damn the spiraling ache in his chest. His second beat out the first via sheer self-preservation, and so, by some miracle of the gods, he lay perfectly still, wrestling his panicked heart into submission. Fingertips drifted across his cheek, over his nose, to his forehead. Little sparks hit his skin. The hair on his arms stood up – it felt like their early tests with Hextech.

Jayce opened his eyes. Viktor snapped his hand back as if he'd been caught working on a project past midnight, but he didn't move away. He knelt at Jayce's side, and the slight pressure of his knee in Jayce's ribs was a grounding weight he just couldn't handle. Those kaleidoscopic eyes flicked back and forth, that inscrutable something hidden in the dips of his angular face.

“What are you doing here?” Jayce rasped. Tears pricked his eyes. He blinked and let them fall.

“I'm trying to keep your psyche intact,” Viktor murmured.

“Why? I'm going to die here.”

Viktor's expression hardened. “No. You won't.”

Jayce's heart creaked dangerously, and the flood he'd been withholding churned ever harder against his ribs. Jayce sat up in a rush, carding his hands through his hair and sucking in a breath that trembled as it went down. He was still crying, he noticed, if only because of the blur obscuring Viktor's face.

“What do you want from me?” Jayce begged, and clutched a slender hand. Viktor stiffened, but Jayce held on harder; he just- needed to feel his partner again. “I'm never getting out of here. I deserve this. Don't-” Jayce squeezed the other man's discolored hand until his own joints ached. Viktor just stared at him. As if he didn't feel a thing. “I can't keep doing this,” Jayce whispered. “I can't keep seeing you and-”

Knowing it won't change anything.

The fight abandoned him as quickly as it'd come. Jayce wanted to be surprised, but all he could muster up was a strangled noise as he dropped Viktor's hand and curled in on himself, digging his elbows into his quads and burying his face in his hands. He was crying. His lungs ached. Everything ached; everything hurt, because Viktor was right there, close enough to touch, but he'd forever be just beyond Jayce's fingertips.

He'd always been, hadn't he? Ever the only love Jayce had never pursued, ever the closest friend he'd abandoned when it'd mattered most. Ever the greatest regret Jayce ever had.

And the only thing he could never regret.

“Jayce.”

He shuddered. Viktor's voice was so soft.

“Please."

His body moved without his permission. His eyes opened, and he could do nothing but meet Viktor's gaze, watch as the other man carefully reached out and cupped his cheek. Jayce refused to lean into the touch. He refused.

“I will get you out of here,” Viktor whispered. The chroma of his eyes swirled faster; his other hand came up, and he cradled Jayce's head with a tenderness Jayce knew he didn't deserve. “I didn't come here to torment you.”

Jayce blinked against the tears, but they slipped out, anyway. “Why?” he rasped yet again.

Viktor hesitated. Abruptly, he stood, snatching his hands back, and Jayce swayed. Huh. Looked like he'd started leaning, regardless. It figured. The other man stared at him a moment longer, almost frantic. Then he was off, seizing his cane, turning his back, and dissolving as if he'd never existed at all.

Jayce sat there for a long time. He eventually found the strength to rub his cheek, and his skin tingled where Viktor had touched him.

It just figured.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“Have you eaten?”

I don't need to, he wanted to spit. “No,” his traitorous mouth slurred.

“I seem to recall a Shuriman street vendor who peddled his trade in the autumn we met.”

Of course Viktor remembered their first lunch outing as vividly as he did. It'd been so early in their partnership, back when they'd still had to argue over who paid and stumbled their way through their orders. Then they'd gotten onto their previous research, their hopes for the future, the breakthroughs they'd had since they'd last seen each other, as they hadn't yet shared a lab. That only came after the second test of their Hextech fields, once they'd proved that their inventions had merit.

It'd been so easy to talk. To swap ideas and pour all his enthusiasm into it, because Viktor had looked at him with that gleam in his eyes and silently promised, with every word, that he understood Jayce in a way no one else ever had or ever would.

“Will you eat with me?”

A rumble passed behind Viktor's voice, the secondary echo that reverberated around Jayce's skull like a gunshot, and he winced. “Stop doing that.”

“What?”

“That sound. Just talk.”

Silence. Jayce thumped his head against the pillar. He couldn't tell if he hoped that he'd finally driven Viktor away or not. Then the metal chair screeched across the tiles, and Jayce hissed, clamping his hands over his tender ears. So loud after so much quiet. When he looked up, Viktor sat in the opposite chair. Facing him. Dark hair drifted in front of his face, and his hands rested beside a spread of food Jayce hadn't thought about in so long.

“Forgive me if I've forgotten the exact taste,” Viktor said, a tinge of self-deprecation in the words, and gods, there it was. His voice, without any echo or filter. “It's, uh- difficult when I don't taste things.”

An offered hand. An olive branch.

Jayce was too weak to refuse it.

“You don't?” he sighed, heaving himself to his feet. A spark lit in Viktor's eyes, but Jayce staunchly ignored it and dropped into the other chair. “I'm guessing you don't eat, either?”

“No,” Viktor agreed. He waved to the flatbreads stacked neatly on a plate, and Jayce eyed them with no small amount of suspicion. “But these should taste exactly as you remember.”

Well, it wasn't like he had much to risk. Jayce took one of the breads, dipped it in the small bowl (which was filled with a sauce he was certain hadn't been there the first time around), and took a healthy bite. Gods, he hated to admit it, but energy swept through his body like a renewed pulse as he chewed his mouthful. It did not, in fact, taste like Shuriman flatbreads, but even the chewiness of Piltover dough was better than the dust on his tongue.

“You've already forgotten human food,” Jayce accused between bites. “This tastes awful.”

Amusement flickered across Viktor's face. “I'll take that into account next time.”

They ate without another word. Viktor left not long after.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The notebook called to him like a siren's song. He managed to ignore it through two of Viktor's next visits before Jayce finally caved and cracked the first page. He scribbled crude sketches of the three separate instances he'd noticed Viktor's power sealing the cracks, jotted down his rudimentary theories as to how the other man could seal fractures in his make-believe reality, then slammed the notebook shut.

He heard Viktor thumbing through it when he next stopped by. Jayce pretended not to notice.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jayce returned to it the following “day.” He'd had a lot of time to mull over the logistics of his inopportune rapture, and while he had no doubts that his understanding of the Arcane was as primitive as a child's beginning squabbles with written language, the work cleared his head. It was better than letting his thoughts fester and rot. Hell, even if the book was bound to this plane of existence, it was a decent talking point.

A talking point. What was more pathetic, he wondered? The fact that he couldn't hold a conversation without a talking point, or that he was still trying to connect with Viktor? It was about as worthwhile as asking the sun to kindly stop rising and setting. Jayce was an ant in comparison to whatever Viktor had become.

Maybe, then, these theories could just be for him. His outlet.

That was what they'd started as, after all. His way of honoring the mage who'd saved his life.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The notebook rustled, and Jayce couldn't help a wry smile. “You probably know all of that already, right?” he called over his shoulder. “Every last equation. If the Arcane really does run on equations.”

“You're being too harsh on yourself. These are enlightened observations.”

“For a human.”

The book shut. “Why are you so insistent on that distinction?”

Jayce twisted. He'd expected anger – Viktor, for all his levelheadedness, was just as prone to a temper. Jayce had liked that, ages ago, when they still found fault with the same things: the Council's endless debates, discrimination within the Academy, the restriction on resources sent to the undercity. Jayce couldn't conjure up that fiery indignation anymore, and Viktor watched him with a faint look of confusion.

“You're not human, are you?” Jayce challenged.

Viktor looked away, trailing his fingers over the notebook's cover. “No.”

“Then why does it bother you? I thought affection was an obstacle to your purpose.”

Ah. He hadn't meant to say that bit out loud. Jayce had been chewing on it ever since Viktor had emerged from the Hexcore's swath of power, but he'd buried it right next to the longing that still kicked around his heart and prayed it'd never see the light of day. So much for that plan.

Viktor's technicolor eyes fluttered. “That wasn't what I meant.”

“Say it. We've got all the time in the world.”

The other man's fingers scratched slightly as he rubbed the cover of the notebook. There was a time that Jayce would've watched him, equally fascinated by the details of Viktor's new body and the motion itself. (He'd long been captivated by Viktor's hands. How steady they were, how artistic.) Now, Jayce allowed himself just a glance before fixing on Viktor's drawn expression.

“You're asking questions I can't answer, Jayce,” the other man said quietly.

Jayce could've slammed his head against the stair. He restrained the urge, if only for the fact that Viktor would probably touch him if he harmed himself. “Then I'm never going to understand.”

Viktor glanced up. “You did, once.”

“I did,” Jayce grit out. “And I'm sorry that I'm the reason we're in this mess.”

“You shouldn't be. I think this is what I was meant to become.”

Without me? Jayce wanted to demand. Ascent to godhood by yourself? Why wasn't I good enough before? Why are you only interested in me now that I'm doomed? Why did I have to make so many gods-damned mistakes?

He swallowed all of it down, back behind the prison he called his ribs, and turned his face up to the sky. Clouds skittered across the brilliant blue.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

He tried to avoid the notebook, but his hands now twitched for the sanctity of theory and experimentation. He scribbled his postulations about the exchange between the Arcane and Hextech, whether Viktor's... existence came with any repercussions, and possible methods of “restoring” what they'd taken. The Hexgates would have to be destroyed, as would all the Gemstones, but Jayce deemed it a meager price to pay.

He hated how alive he felt once he closed the notebook.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

A hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“What are you working on?”

Viktor had to know it hurt, didn't he? That statement had once filled Jayce to the brim with glee; it meant they'd sit down and converse well into the night, long after the sensible people of Piltover went to bed. It meant one of them had uncovered something the other hadn't, and there were thousands of tests and experiments to conduct. It meant discovery, innovation. It meant doing what he loved with the man he loved.

Fuck it. Who cared that his observations were elementary?

“I'm negotiating countermeasures for Hextech's effect on the Arcane,” Jayce said, waving a hand at the page. “The first step has to be destroying what's already in use. It's a necessary catalyst, but I don't know if all that destruction would release more energy and further damage the Arcane or just- negate itself. There's no way to test it without risking someone's life.”

“Mm.”

Viktor leaned closer. He still hadn't removed his hand. His hair brushed against Jayce's shoulder, tickled his ear. Jayce held his breath, then let it out slow.

“Well?” he muttered.

“Hm?”

“What did I get wrong?”

Viktor was silent. Eventually, he straightened, finally relinquishing his grasp, and Jayce rolled his shoulder. It didn't really matter if he missed the touch, did it? Then the other man dragged the chair around the table and dropped into it, close enough that their knees pressed, and Jayce promptly changed his mind; it did matter that the contact felt electric; it did matter that he was still in love with his best friend after all this time.

“You shouldn't think of this as a record of your mistakes,” Viktor said, almost chiding, and tapped the equation Jayce had scribbled above an exploding Gemstone. “You're learning something no human has ever tried to learn before. This part is unnecessary. The Arcane does not possess physical waves, as Hextech does. Destroying the Gemstones would only produce a minuscule effect, but, uh- it may slow the exchange.”

Jayce glanced over. Sheer willpower kept his gaze fixed on Viktor's eyes. “There's something you're not telling me.”

Viktor's lips twitched. “Was it so obvious?”

Yes. I know you. Jayce said nothing.

“You cannot destroy the hub. You are correct that is central to the Arcane's power within Piltover, but removing it would destabilize the weave more than it would aid. It would correct the absence created by Hextech to terrible effect.”

“That just makes it sound like I should prioritize destroying the hub as soon as I'm back,” Jayce snapped. “I can deal with a few 'terrible effects.' It can't be worse than what's already happened.”

Viktor winced. “Don't concern yourself with that. I have talented people containing it.”

“'Talented people'? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Jayce, I-”

That damned echo warbled through his voice, and it cut through Jayce's head like a finely-sharpened knife. Adrenaline pushed him to his feet; he stumbled away from the table, frantically throwing his chair aside, and when Viktor turned, one hand outstretched, panic pinged around Jayce's nervous system.

“No!” he shouted. “I don't-”

“Jayce, you-”

“No!”

The spiral of nothing and everything. Infinity, breaking away and folding in on itself, perpetually rewriting itself. The mask. The mask, glowing with power, scorched eyes in a mangled body, sinew and spine and muscle twisting and growing in the unholy creation of machine and magic and madness. Hatred. Husks. Off-yellow; burnt black; blue, so blue; a bloody fist clenching and crushing and-

Hands landed on Jayce's shoulder, darted up to his face, cupping his cheeks. He gasped, sucking down a breath, and tried to beat off the assailant, because it had to be the masked creature.

But it was only Viktor, fear burning behind those damned eyes, his lips moving without sound.

“-yce?”

He couldn't do this.

“-a- you-”

He couldn't do this.

“Jayce?”

No echo. No reverberation. Just the voice of his best friend, his partner, the love of his life, forever trapped in a body twisted by magic and Hextech, his hands as calloused as ever yet unendingly gentle.

Jayce broke.

He collapsed onto Viktor's thin form and threw his arms around him, and he finally allowed himself to cry. He muffled his sobs in Viktor's garments, but they wracked back through his body, seizing his lungs in clawed hands until each shuddering gasp hurt. Everything hurt. Gods, everything had hurt for so long.

Viktor's hands settled on his back and squeezed. His partner clung to him, and warm breaths fanned against Jayce's shoulder. He felt Viktor breathing. Breathing. After so long with that hitch to his cadence, it was uncanny to hear him breathing like nothing had ever been wrong. Like his disease had been wiped away, just like the brace implanted in his sternum and the cane abandoned nearby.

Each touch came with the electric crackle of what he now knew to be the Arcane. Jayce didn't care. Viktor's fingers dug into his back as if trying to hook into him, and he welcomed it. Anything to feel Viktor again.

“Are you alright?”

Soft words, murmured against his neck. Jayce withdrew slowly, plucking up the willpower to unwind his arms from Viktor's shoulders and drop them lamely by his sides. He palmed his eyes, scrubbing away the tears, but Viktor caught his hand. His partner still examined him with evident concern, his mouth downturned.

“I've missed you so much,” Jayce whispered, and his heart threatened to cave at Viktor's startled look. “Not even when I got stuck here. So long before that. I miss you. I miss everything we used to do. I know I caused this. All of it. I'm- I'm so sorry, Viktor.”

The synthetic fingers wrapped around his didn't tremble. The magi-mechanical body Viktor now called his own never wavered. The eyes that'd once been warm amber stared passively back at him, a mirage of color befitting of the Arcane's herald.

And then, Viktor's eyes flickered. They leaped between hue, shifting blue then pink then white then-

Amber. The most beautiful color in the world, gazing back at him.

“I've been trying to heal your mind,” Viktor admitted softly, and he squeezed Jayce's fingers a little tighter. “The Arcane tends to chip away at people who stare into its depths too long. You seemed to improve once I fortified the courtyard, but... you've been declining again. It breaks through and eats at your mind, but I don't see any ailments. Physically, you are in perfect health.”

Jayce huffed a broken laugh. “Story of my life.”

Viktor frowned. “Jayce, I need to-”

“You won't find anything wrong. It's not- it's not what's out there that's hurting me. It's you.”

Viktor reared back, his hands falling away as if burned. Jayce couldn't work up the strength to be distressed, nor find the energy to apologize for Viktor's stricken look.

“What?” his partner said, barely a whisper.

“It's you,” Jayce repeated helplessly. “It's seeing you and knowing that I forever missed my chance to say any of this in the real world. I'm going to die here, Viktor. I'm not- hah. I didn't fuck myself up the same way I did to you. If I try to go out there, I die. If I stay here, I die. Nothing I do here matters. Once I die, what's left? You carry on my memory? You tell your commune about me? I'm just-”

Rambling. Doing exactly what he claimed was pointless. Jayce jerked himself out of the flow, physically snapping his mouth shut. He stared at the tiles, blinking back more tears, and waited. For what, he didn't even know. A slap. Silence. The courtyard's sudden implosion, the end to his suffering. He'd never been the religious type, but he suddenly thought of those missionaries he'd occasionally seen preaching on the Academy's grounds, shouting about damnation and a place to be punished for all eternity. This was his damnation, he thought. This was his punishment.

Viktor snatched his cane up from the stones and leaned on it just like he always had. “I'll be back tomorrow,” he muttered to the table. “Wait for me.”

He vanished.

The worst part, Jayce thought, was that he'd wait forever if Viktor asked it of him.