Chapter Text
The sun is rising over Piltover by the time Jayce's head hits the pillow, the peachy glow of morning streaking into the windows of his newly appointed rooms at the University. The moment he falls back onto the overly-plush bed sheets, he realises just how heavy he feels, exhaustion like lead weights in his bones. Yet, at the same time, he's never felt more wired.
In less than twenty four hours, he has gone from being the University's greatest disgrace to its guiding star, destined to lead the entire city into the future with the advent of Hextech. It's happened much too fast to be real, as if he's squeezed decades into hours, and he cannot keep up. Has he been trapped in some kind of dream, floating from vision to vision, identity to identity, and is only just now waking up from it?
Jayce squeezes his eyes shut, chest tightening. No, it wasn't a dream - because the ledge had been real enough. The bitter wind had bit so deeply into his skin, the night had stretched so inky black and abyssal before him, and the ground below had been so very, very far away. The desire to die was more vivid than Jayce ever realised it could be, possessing him like a vengeful wraith because there would be no point in living if he could not pursue the research he has devoted his entire life to.
But it's all been fixed now. He is not going to be expelled from the University. His equipment is not going to be destroyed. His discoveries are not going to be buried. So shouldn't that howling agony, that bitter hopelessness, that little voice in his head whispering die, die, die - shouldn't it all be gone?
No. It's still there, his yearning for oblivion like a gnarled old tree taking root in his soul. Hot tears prick at his eyes, a cruel hand snatches the breath from his lungs, and he forgets what it feels like to be bright. Because hasn't he always felt like this, in the deepest recesses of his mind?
What's the point of any of it going to be if that goddamn feeling won't go away? How can he focus on Hextech, and the beauty of the arcane, if the shadows will not leave him alone? He doesn't want to die, and yet he does, and he could've fallen so very far and it would've hurt so very much, and none of it would have-
A soft knock sounds at the door. Jayce freezes, panting heavily as his wide eyes dart towards the sound. Doused in cold terror, he feels as though he's just been caught in the middle of committing a terrible crime. If he stays quiet enough, whoever is on the other side might assume he's asleep and leave, and he can go back to shattering in peace.
But it's the little voice yelling die die die that's telling him not to open the door, not the rational voice that so usually dominates his thoughts. Jayce slows his breath, and pays close attention to what that rational voice is saying - let them in, you don't want to be alone, not really. That's the voice he needs to listen to, he knows that. He has to let that part of him take control again, or else he'll fade into oblivion entirely, and then he'll go right back to being the University of Piltover's greatest disgrace. The man who could've done so much, and yet gave up before he'd even started.
He needs to open the door. He cannot let death be his master.
Running his hand through his hair in an attempt to neaten it, Jayce rushes from the bed and hurries to the door, desperately hoping that whoever knocked hasn't given up and left yet. With perhaps a little more force than necessary, he flings the door open - and finds Viktor awaiting him on the other side, leaning against his cane with a small frown of concern creasing his narrow features.
For a moment, Jayce cannot believe his luck. Viktor, the complete stranger who pulled him back from the brink without even knowing it. Of course it would be him.
At the speed at which Jayce opens the door, Viktor flinches back in surprise, amber eyes widening. Despite it all, Jayce offers him a tired smile. "Hey, what's up?"
Recovering from his momentary fright, Viktor furrows his brow. "Do you always open doors like you are trying to pull them off their hinges?"
A trifle embarrassed, Jayce rubs at the back of his neck. "Ah, no. Sorry, you caught me at a weird time - everything's fine, though."
"Is there a reason I should think that things aren't fine?"
"No! No, no!" Jayce is quick to reassure him - even though, deep down, he knows he's lying through his teeth. Everything feels wrong because he's so messed up inside, but Viktor doesn't need to know that. Viktor's already done enough for him today. "Sorry. Bad choice of words."
Viktor regards him with a trace of amusement, but it's warm and without disparagement. "It's alright. You have had a very trying day."
"You can say that again," Jayce says with a small sigh. "Feels like someone's stuck me in a jar and shook me all round. Anyway, what can I do for you?"
"Nothing. I was only passing by, and thought I should check in on you."
Jayce frowns. "Check in on me? Why?"
Viktor takes a moment to think before he replies. It's a quality Jayce is swiftly coming to admire in him - he gets the impression that Viktor's never misspoken in his life, just because he thinks so much.
"May I come in?" he asks eventually - and then he catches a glimpse at the rumpled bed behind Jayce's shoulder, and falters. "Unless you were trying to sleep, of course."
Jayce knows that, no matter how tired he feels, he'll never be able to sleep a wink until the adrenaline of the day finally peters out of his system. He shakes his head, and then steps aside so that Viktor can pass. "No, come on in. I only just got here anyway."
After nodding his thanks, Viktor steps across the threshold, his cane tapping against the wooden floorboards below. He arrives at the seat of Jayce's yet-to-be-used desk, and turns back to his host. "May I?"
"Go for it."
As Viktor carefully lowers himself into the chair, Jayce shuts the door and plunks down on the edge of his bed, leaning back and watching Viktor with interest. He's carefully rested his cane against the edge of the desk, and is now looking at Jayce with inquisitive eyes, a slight stoop to his posture that makes his spine curve. But there's something flickering beneath that inquisitorial stare that unnerves Jayce a little. It's not quite pity, not quite worry, but something indescribable that falls between the two.
"I would ask how you are, but you have already made it clear," he says. "Today has overwhelmed you."
"Yeah," Jayce admits. It doesn't seem so shameful to admit these things to Viktor. Maybe it's because he's the one who found him on the ledge. "I mean, I'm happy with how it turned out, and I'm excited to get started on developing Hextech with you, but… I don't think humans were meant to be thrown so many curve balls in one day."
"You have weathered it very well," Viktor says. "And it is over now. You may relax."
Despite himself, Jayce laughs, and flops back onto his bed with a thud. Weathered it well? If only Viktor knew just how close he is to splitting apart at the seams. "Over? I thought the era of Hextech was only just beginning."
"I was not referring to Hextech," Viktor says, prompting Jayce to glance over in confusion. There's something strangely shy about Viktor's posture now, and about the way he looks at Jayce through bright, hesitant eyes. It's as if he's on the cusp of saying something he knows he shouldn't, and Jayce has a sinking feeling that he knows precisely what that something is.
"Yeah? What, then?" Jayce prompts, his mouth dry, terrified yet desperate to hear what he has to say.
"I speak of whatever was troubling you, when we met in your apartment last night," Viktor says tentatively. "I hope you know that it is going to be alright."
Viktor pulled him back from that ledge, coaxed him away from death by taking an interest in his life's research and promising to help him see it to fruition. He'd spoken of belief in the face of adversity, and the depth of his faith in Jayce's ability to change the world. Until now, Jayce had thought it was merely a coincidence, that Viktor had stumbled in at the right time purely by accident, and didn't realise that his simple enthusiasm had single-handedly saved his life.
He should've known that Viktor was smarter than that.
"You think so?" Jayce asks, his voice small and his gaze fixed on the ornate wooden ceiling. He's glad he's not looking at Viktor, because he's not sure he could survive the expression in those solemn, thoughtful eyes.
"I do." It's strangely reassuring to hear the nerves threading through the soft timbre Viktor's voice. "I will not presume to know what drove you there, but I hope that our project will give you some comfort, at least. Make the pain a little lighter."
He thinks, then, that if it were anyone else speaking to him like this, he might get angry, lash out at them for exposing his vulnerabilities and dragging them out when he only wants to bury them. But it isn't anyone else - it's Viktor, and that makes all the difference.
"It will - trust me, it will." Jayce swallows, feeling very much as if he's playing roulette with this fragile, tentative little bond they share. "But… It's kind of hard to shake. Whatever 'it' is."
"I understand," Viktor says, and Jayce doesn't doubt for a moment that it's the truth. "People do not try to kill themselves over feelings that are simple to comprehend."
To hear him say it so bluntly hurts like a bludgeon to the stomach.
"Jayce," Viktor continues. "If you ever feel like you want to go to that ledge again, will you tell me?"
A lump the size of a hunk of coal lodges itself in Jayce's throat, so bowled over is he by how gentle yet monumental Viktor's kindness can be. He still cannot bear to look at him, overwhelmed by a roaring affection that feels far too intense for a man he didn't even know the name of this time yesterday. And the little voice in his head telling him to jump screams out in agony, as if Viktor's words are like acid, scalding it and dissolving it into empty vapour.
But he cannot think of what to say. How in the world could he possibly think of an adequate response to a question ike that?
In the cavernous quiet of Jayce's confusion, Viktor makes a small, pained noise of embarrassment. Jayce can hear the slight rustle of fabric as he stands, and the soft clink of his cane as he takes it from its resting place against the desk.
"I have overstepped - forgive me, I should leave you be."
Panic seizes him. No, no, that's not right at all!
"Viktor, wait," Jayce says, bolting back upright and making Viktor freeze halfway to the door. He takes a deep breath, knowing he'll have to speak very carefully lest he break this delicate, lovely little thing between them. "I will tell you. I promise. You'll be the first to know."
Visibly, Viktor relaxes, his shoulders slumping as the tension releases. "Good. I wouldn't want you to think you must suffer alone." He turns around again, looking Jayce in the eye - pale gold trapped in honeyed amber. "There is nothing worse, in my mind."
"And it's the same for you, okay? If you're ever feeling down, you'll come to me. Deal?"
Viktor tips his head, regarding Jayce with that same look of warm amusement as before. "I will. Now, you look tired. I must let you sleep."
"I would say see you in the morning, but…" With a small chuckle, Jayce gestures to the bright orange dawn outside. Morning has been upon them for a good while now.
Laughing in kind, Viktor raises his free hand to his mouth. "A long night indeed. Then I will say good morning, instead of good night. Rest well, Jayce."
As Viktor goes to depart, Jayce feels as though there's something they've left unsettled.
"Viktor?"
He turns his head. "Hm?"
"Thank you. For everything you've done today. I… You don't know how much I appreciate it."
Jayce doesn't know what possesses him to be so blatant about his gratitude. Yet he doesn't regret a word of it, because Viktor saved his goddamn life in so many ways, and he deserves to know that he is treasured for it.
Warmly, Viktor smiles. "Any time."