Chapter Text
Viktor doesn’t want to be here. It had taken a lot of pleading, losing a bet, and even more pleading before Jayce had managed to drag him to the party, so, yes, of course he’s miserable.
Not that Jayce expected him not to be, though, to be fair to his partner. In all his begging he had verbally batted away Viktor’s attempts to put the words you’ll enjoy it when you get there into his mouth with an insistence that he doesn’t even enjoy these evenings much. And that Viktor owes him at least one, please, Vik, even if you hate it.
So, Viktor caved. And now he’s here. Hating every boring second.
Jayce had promised to stay with him. And he made good on that promise—dragging Viktor around with him while he mingled, with small touches here and there so they wouldn’t get separated in the crowd.
It was Viktor who disengaged. Sick of playing polite and, honestly, a little sick of standing.
What he really wants to do is go lie down. But at least slumped against a chair on the outskirts of the room he can take some weight off of his leg.
Jayce looks good tonight. Although he often looks good even when he really shouldn’t so Viktor is maybe a little biased.
From his seat it is, unfortunately, hard to keep track of Jayce as he mills about the room, his attention being constantly stolen by one person to the next. Viktor tries, of course, to keep his eyes on Jayce—the only interesting thing in the room—but he loses track of him frequently.
He does catch Jayce glancing in his direction often enough. The slightest hint of anxiety slipping through his mask and relaxing away when his eyes land on Viktor. Each time their eyes meet Viktor offers him a small smile. And then someone walks in between them, or Jayce is tugged away, and that’s that until the next stolen moment.
So, really, it’s no surprise he missed Jayce leaving the room.
It’s a little too long of not catching his eyes, his hair, any glimpse of him at all that makes Viktor feel antsy. He pushes himself to his feet, starting a lap around the room and trying not to show in his expression the anxiety slowly building inside of him the longer he goes without seeing Jayce.
Maybe Jayce just got caught up talking to someone on the other side of the room, too far away for Viktor to see him yet. Because surely Jayce wouldn’t have left without telling him. Right?
Just when he is about to give up and start asking people if they saw where he went—a course of action that brings bitter distaste to his mouth as he thinks of it—Viktor spots him.
It’s through glass, his form shadowed from the night sky, but it’s unmistakably him. Standing at the edge of the large balcony attached to this level of the building.
Viktor had honestly thought the doors were locked.
With only a second of hesitation to consider that Jayce might be waiting for someone so they can talk privately, Viktor picks up his pace—social decorum the only thing keeping him from dashing—and slips outside, too.
It’s cold. This high up the wind finds them easily. But seeing Jayce leaning against the stone railing and looking out into the city? Viktor is sure his hands aren’t shaking from the cold alone.
He lets the large glass door click shut behind him, launching them both into blissful silence. He can’t believe he didn’t think to escape out here first.
“Viktor.” Jayce’s voice is warm. And he’s looking at Viktor now—has turned around to lounge back against the railing. It doesn’t exactly stop Viktor’s stomach from churning.
“Am I—“ the words die in his throat. Interrupting something? He rephrases the question. “I hope you weren’t expecting someone else to walk through that door.”
He lets himself drift closer. Even though what he really wants is for Jayce to come to him. To get away from that edge.
“Nah.” Jayce huffs out a laugh. “I just needed some air. It’s so hot in there, you know?”
“And I suppose you can’t just take your shirt off like when you’re in the forge.”
Another laugh—louder, a little startled, but definitely delighted.
“No, not really. It’d be a bit… out of place.”
Finally, Viktor reaches Jayce, settling in next to him at the railing. And like a flower shifting to reach sunlight, Jayce practically curls into him in the way he angles his body to face Viktor fully. If Viktor wasn’t so used to it, it might’ve made him dizzy.
As it is, he thinks his dizziness is just from the height and Jayce’s proximity to it. And maybe the few drinks he’s had.
“I’m sure they’d all secretly enjoy it, though.” Viktor teases, mostly just to see the red crawl across Jayce’s cheeks. “Maybe not-so-secretly, too.”
“V, you—“
Jayce splutters uselessly around an answer, before giving up and hiding his face in his hand with an embarrassed laugh. It’s the hand attached to the arm that’s leaning against the railing, and something in Viktor’s chest hitches as the gesture has Jayce turning out towards the open air. Even though he’s safe, and certainly not looking to jump.
“I don’t like seeing you here.” Viktor admits, the honesty torn out of him like a flinch of hands getting ready to pull Jayce away from jumping.
Jayce turns his head back to him, confusion in his expression.
“At… the party?”
“At the edge of tall buildings by yourself.” Viktor corrects gently, trying for dismissive and surely failing.
“Oh.”
Then—with seemingly no concern for Viktor’s heart—Jayce turns back to his original position, facing the city sprawling in front of them. Except this time, he’s peering over the railing—his gaze pointed down at the ground far, far below them.
There’s a frown twisting his lips. Viktor wonders if he’s thinking about the same things Viktor’s thinking off. Whether he’s calculating the distance. Calculating the time it would take. Envisioning how mangled his body would look from the impact.
“I, uh… didn’t come out here to jump, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Jayce tells him, finally tearing his gaze back to Viktor’s. “I really did just want some air.”
“It’d be very melodramatic if you did… jump.” Viktor murmurs, tilting his head towards the building behind them. “We’re at a party. And with so many of Piltover’s elites, too. Although, it’d be an interesting political statement, I’m sure.”
“They would’ve just said I was drunk.”
Viktor hums noncommittally. Jayce is right, of course.
“Besides.” Jayce flashes him a smile, strained around the edges. “It’s been a long time since then.”
“You don’t still think about it?”
Viktor does.
Viktor has nightmares, sometimes. Of being too late. Of not saying the right thing. Of Jayce dropping out of view in front of him, and of Jayce dropping into view in front of him—with a sickening crunch.
Sometimes the reminders of how close he was to losing his partner before even getting to know him properly fill him with a misplaced grief and a desperate need to know that he’s okay. Other times he’s just bitter. How could Jayce so easily throw away his life while Viktor is struggling so hard to keep hold of his own?
“Well…” Jayce dodges his gaze, shrinking into himself. When he speaks again, he sounds uncertain. “Not… Not a lot?”
“Confidence instilling.” Viktor mutters sarcastically.
“Hey!” Jayce protests. “You asked! Did you want me to lie?”
Yes. It’d certainly calm the awful swirl of fear in his stomach.
But… it’s better to know.
“No.”
“Besides, it’s not—it’s just—“ Jayce cuts himself off with a harsh sigh and a stiff shrug. “It’s not like I have a reason to, you know? I have hextech. And—and I have you.”
Viktor doesn’t point out that this also is not very confidence instilling.
“It’s fine, Jayce. I understand.”
And he does. Viktor doesn’t want to die. But sometimes when the pain gets too much, he can certainly hear the siren call.
It clings to you. Honey-sweet in its promises. And Viktor can imagine that once you cross that line and accept, it’s difficult to walk back and pretend you never did. To close that door and lock away the information that you could, if you wanted to. You could bypass your brain’s survival instincts and end it. If you wanted to.
Does Jayce ever long for the ledge? And if he does—is it for minor inconveniences, too? Or only for serious things? Does it ever curl into his mind during late nights in the lab when they’re behind schedule with no sign of a breakthrough on the horizon? Or is Viktor’s presence enough of a balm?
He certainly hopes he doesn’t factor into Jayce’s decision to dismiss the thoughts at all. He’s not going to live forever. He’s likely not even going to live long if he can’t fix his condition.
I have hextech. And I have you.
“You’re sweet, Jayce.” Viktor teases. As much as he wants to throw curses at him, this situation requires that he handles this delicately. “Although, I hope you’re not relying solely on me—“
“I—I’m not!” Jayce interrupts, eyes wide. And Viktor, for his own sake, decides to ignore that wild, feverish tinge to them. “I’m not, V.”
“Good. We should go back inside.” Viktor offers, nodding towards the building. “People will talk, yes? I’ll follow you around again, if you want.”
“Don’t call it that.” Jayce complains.
“Fine.” Viktor smiles. “I’ll walk with you as your equal partner and we can ignore that they’re all dying to go back to pretending I don’t exist. How does that sound?”
For a moment, Jayce just stares at him. With more intensity than he usually does when Viktor makes those kinds of jokes.
“Jayce—?”
“Viktor.” Jayce’s hand comes up to clasp at his shoulder—stealing both Viktor’s words and his breath. “There’s—I… When you leave, I’ll follow.”
Viktor freezes. The words are too clumsy—too deliberate—to mean anything else. Especially with what they were just talking about. But, mercifully, there’s a vagueness to them that Viktor can curl around himself like a safety blanket to ward off the implications. Jayce is always too kind to him.
“The… party?” He asks, like he doesn’t understand.
“Sure.”
“Right.”
Jayce says nothing, and Viktor tries to ignore the thumb inching past his collar to brush at the skin of his neck.
It’s very difficult.
Especially when Jayce is devastatingly beautiful and Viktor has always liked his touch. Liked having Jayce’s full attention on him.
But Jayce is clearly waiting for him to do, or say something, so Viktor tries to push through it and gather his thoughts.
If he tries to argue against the hidden meaning of Jayce’s words, Jayce will just argue back. This isn’t science, and Jayce is an awfully stubborn man. It’ll only serve to water the seed in his mind—let the idea take root even further.
But if he plays into it—pretends it’s just about the party—he could just end up doing the same.
He feels—a little—like that day early into their partnership where he found one of Jayce’s personal sketches. It had slipped from his notebook; a torn out page, edges carefully folded over the drawing so it could fit in the book without creasing the art.
Viktor had frozen then, too, when—too curious for his own good—he unfolded it.
It was of him. A talented depiction, despite being a pencil sketch; his features rendered lovingly on the page in full detail.
The first thing that caught his attention was the halo. It had been coloured a bright, almost-glowing blue. The second thing was his outstretched hand offering the leather strap with the crystal—also coloured blue.
My Angel was written underneath it. Unmistakably in Jayce’s handwriting. With a little heart drawn after it. And if Viktor still wasn’t convinced, Jayce’s signature was in the corner of the drawing.
Viktor had spent a long time staring at it, drinking in the details in stunned silence—grateful that Jayce wasn’t there.
Jayce had included his moles, included his crutch. Had drawn a soft smile on his lips. Had drawn his eyes looking warm.
He made Viktor look much kinder than he probably did that night.
To anyone else they might have considered this as some… proof of harboured romantic feelings. But Viktor knew—and still does know—better. And he had stubbornly squashed out the hope flickering to life in his chest.
This was worship. Hero worship. Not love. Jayce was, understandably, still starstruck from Viktor interfering and talking him away from that ledge. That’s all.
And maybe since it was clearly not the sign of requited interest that he’d been hoping for, it should’ve been considered a red flag. But Viktor hadn’t cared. He just folded the drawing up and tucked it back into the notebook.
The feelings will fade away soon, anyway, he remembered thinking.
But now? Standing in front of Jayce looking at him like this? He’s not so sure they ever did.
He also thinks that with this revelation he should probably care more about what that means for him. But all he can think about is what it means for Jayce.
When you leave, I’ll follow.
The thought makes Viktor feel like he’s drunk acid.
Arguing is out, playing into it and ignoring the hidden meaning is out—time to just disengage and pretend the whole thing didn’t happen and hope Jayce discards the silly idea himself.
“Well, uh…” Viktor steps back, and tries not to shudder as Jayce’s hand skims his chest as it falls back to his side. He nods to the room again. “Shall we?”
“Okay.”
Jayce smiles, and it almost looks normal. Almost doesn’t have that tinge of madness.
It doesn’t really bother Viktor, though. He’s known that Jayce is a little crazy since the moment they first met. It’s part of why he likes him so much.
“But please walk with me?” Jayce asks with a pout. “I’m so sick of listening to these guys talk.”
“Of course.”
Jayce smiles like he’s won something precious, and heads back inside. As Viktor falls into pace with him, he notes that Jayce doesn’t look back at the ledge once.