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No.
It’s a difficult word.
Difficult to say. Difficult to make heard.
Especially when you were raised to serve. Difficult to say no when you like to please.
Jayce Talis has trouble saying no.
***
People had often told him he was attractive, once he’d passed his twenties. Muscular, intelligent, well-groomed, comfortable without being wealthy, sociable, approachable.
Jayce was therefore an appealing young man. And in the circles he moved in, that meant he was expected to maintain more or less intimate relationships with pretty young women — or young men, if that was his preference, though that was somewhat less well regarded.
Except — and that was the problem — Jayce didn’t particularly want to.
It was quickly assumed that with his looks, he must be a seducer, eager to show himself off, to flirt. But Jayce was anything but good at that.
He felt easily uncomfortable when someone attracted him physically. And even if someone was pleasant to look at, did that automatically mean he should want more? If he didn’t know them, if he knew nothing about them, was it even possible to be attracted? Weren’t appreciating something visually and wanting it enough to share intimacy two entirely different things?
Of course, it was flattering to be noticed. But more often than not, the interest revolved around his family background, money, and appearance. And when he finally talked about what truly fascinated him, it usually had the opposite effect.
He had learned to stay quiet. But when you stay quiet too long, you forget how to assert yourself and say no.
No is refusing another drink. No is watching faces darken, hearing whispers behind your back. No is not being like everyone else, standing apart, failing to fit in.
No is worrying his mother, who wonders when he’ll find a girlfriend — or a boyfriend, she doesn’t really mind, as long as he’s happy.
Would having a girlfriend make him happy? Everyone seems convinced it would. Everyone seems to think it’s the solution to all his problems — that he needs to relax, stop overthinking, that his standards are too high, that it isn’t normal at his age to have never slept with anyone, that maybe something is wrong with him, maybe he’s sick, maybe he’s unbalanced, maybe he should make an effort, maybe he should push himself a little. As handsome as he is, he shouldn’t have any problems.
No.
No is a difficult word.
***
“Niech to szlag!” Viktor shouted, stumbling back from the flames, welding goggles still over his eyes.
Jayce rushed in with the extinguisher and smothered the budding fire in foam.
Viktor pushed up his goggles, his nose streaked with soot, which he wiped away with the back of his sleeve.
“Aaaaah,” he sighed, rolling his chair back toward the devastated workbench.
Jayce grimaced and opened a window to air the place out. They would have to clean all this, and it certainly wouldn’t be Viktor getting down on his hands and knees with a mop. Foam was everywhere, and once it dried, it would clump with dust and smell awful.
Viktor examined what remained of his half-melted project, probably trying to salvage something and start again.
“I have a date,” Jayce muttered. “I can’t stay long.”
Unspoken: you deal with this mess, I have somewhere to be.
Viktor said nothing, which was normal. In truth, he never expected Jayce to do anything. He was used to handling things alone and never commenting on his partner’s private life.
Partnership or not, he had never had expectations from the beginning — not about cleaning, nor about any evolution of their relationship.
Maybe if he had, Jayce would have left feeling a little less frustrated, his coat thrown hastily over his shoulders, the chemical smell still lingering in his nose.
***
The moment he stepped into the café, Jayce knew he didn’t want to be there. The chic, artificially relaxed atmosphere already dampened his mood. It was crowded. Even though the conversations were hushed, he knew it would give him a headache. There was too much lighting.
A waiter asked for the name on the reservation, which made it clear this wasn’t “just” a café.
Still, even if he disliked the place, that wasn’t a reason to be unpleasant to the girl waiting for him. After all, he was there because he hadn’t been able to say no when Cassandra offered to arrange a meeting with a young woman she thought he would get along with wonderfully.
Jayce had no idea what Cassandra meant by that, but he was here to find out. It couldn’t hurt, after all.
“I’m here. Good evening, Jayce!”
He had to make an effort. The Kiramman family had done a lot for him and his mother.
It wasn’t that complicated…
“Good evening,” he replied with a broad smile, joining her at the table.
***
No, he hadn’t wanted to kiss her. But he had anyway.
No, he hadn’t wanted to invite her for a last drink at his place. But he had anyway.
No, he hadn’t wanted to sleep with her. But he had anyway.
He had managed to get hard, which must mean there had been some desire somewhere in the equation — so why, as she slept beside him in bed, did he feel like two separate people? Like he was watching the scene the way a child plays with dolls, like he was an actor on a stage.
He had perfectly played the role expected of him, and now that the curtain had fallen, he felt like a puppet with its strings cut.
He stared at the ceiling, his body sticky with sweat — revolting — and the only thing he could think about was whether Viktor had already left the lab and if he had managed to clean everything up — or if he had blown something else up.
***
After a difficult night, Jayce kept performing.
Breakfast. Light, flirt-tinged banter as they drank coffee and watched the street outside slowly come to life.
The promise to keep in touch — a pious lie from Jayce, who still didn’t dare say no.
Then the return of routine: brushing his teeth, shaving, washing, getting ready to head back to the lab.
It was almost a relief to return to that gentle familiarity that subtly chased away the discomfort. At the lab, Jayce was in his place. He knew what to do, how to react, and most importantly, Viktor never judged him for his behavior. He judged him for his competence and could be sarcastic, but it wasn’t personal.
A small part of Jayce almost wished it were.
***
The door opened and Viktor didn’t even turn around.
Jayce greeted him before hanging his coat on the wall hook.
Viktor waved absently while continuing his drawing.
When Jayce stepped closer to see what he was working on, Viktor finally looked up.
“You look like you’ve been dug up,” he remarked with his usual tact.
“Thank you, Viktor, always a pleasure,” Jayce shot back, a hint of acidity in his voice.
His partner frowned.
“I thought you had a… date last night.”
Jayce’s broad shoulders stiffened. Viktor continued, unaware.
“I thought it would put you in a good mood.”
The slam of a drawer cut him off.
Jayce sat heavily and began writing in his journal, deliberately ignoring Viktor.
Viktor sighed before returning to his own work.
But of course, Jayce didn’t last even half an hour before cracking.
“You never comment on my love life and now..."
The tirade died in his throat as he scowled.
Viktor hesitated to look at him.
“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it. So why bring it up?”
“It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it!” Jayce burst out. “It’s just…”
“Just?” Viktor prompted.
Jayce’s brows knitted together and he let out a heavy sigh.
“I thought you didn’t care.”
Again, Viktor didn’t know what to say.
“I didn’t know if it was… appropriate,” he admitted carefully. “I didn’t want to be intrusive.”
Jayce clenched his jaw, staring at him, then looked away.
The conversation faded, and they returned to their work, an awkward silence stretching between them.
Suddenly, Jayce spoke again.
“Have you ever forced yourself to do something just because everyone else does it?”
Viktor frowned.
“No.”
Jayce let out a brittle, humorless laugh.
“No, of course not. Not you.”
“No, not because everyone else does it. But I have forced myself for many other reasons,” Viktor corrected quietly.
Jayce fell silent. Slowly, he turned toward him. Viktor set down his pencil and gave him his full attention.
“If being normal makes you suffer, you’re not obliged to become it,” Viktor said calmly, without haste or judgment.
Jayce’s laugh was more genuine this time, freer.
“You… you say that like it’s easy.”
“Nothing is easy. Everyone does what they can with the tools they have. But it is better to follow your heart than to suffer unnecessarily,” Viktor replied, his Zaunite accent heavier now, syllables rolling as though shaping the thought took effort.
He ran a hand through his hair, choosing his words carefully, aware of the vulnerability they carried — new between them. It revealed an intimacy Jayce had longed for and that Viktor did not shy away from offering.
A hand extended, in a way.
“What I mean is, whatever choices you make, you… you will always be welcome here. With me.”
Jayce’s gaze deepened. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Viktor was the first to look away, returning to his calculations, leaving the unspoken hanging between them.
A shadow of a smile curved Jayce’s lips. He set down the pen he’d been fidgeting with and stood, his chair scraping against the floor.
Viktor followed the sound of his footsteps toward the kitchenette. He heard the hiss of gas, the scratch of a match, the clink of cups.
A few minutes later, Jayce returned with a mug of sweet milk and set it in front of Viktor.
Viktor took it and sipped.
It was the perfect temperature.
“Thank you,” he said simply.
Jayce inclined his head with a faint, slightly melancholic smile.
“Thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything special,” Viktor muttered into his cup.
Jayce’s expression softened as he sat back down beside him, resting his head against his fist.
“For being my partner,” he replied gently.
“Yes,” Viktor answered with a half-smile. “Partner. That I can do.”
Jayce still didn’t know how to say no. But he had someone to say yes to him — and that was enough.