[ Viktor, for all his distaste in societal niceties such as schmoozing and dumbing himself down to not alienate others, is observant of even minute facial expressions and body language. It comes from growing up in a place where anything less than constant vigilance meant winding up dead, and he's studied human anatomy for long enough that he's familiar with all the muscles that worked together to create reactions. It's why he notices Jayce's wrinkled nose, the slight frown as his face pulls together to a central point. It has nothing to do with being so familiar with Jayce's face that he could draw it blind, so used to reading his expressions that he could mirror them back without thought. It's unfortunate, then, that the scrunching of that small bit of skin is interpreted as distaste for the reality of Viktor's body back in that basement where they're sleeping through the cold snap.
Still. Has he really been himself since the Hexcore had replaced his heart? He'd felt like himself when something had literally smashed the mask from his eyes and forced him to face the truth of his great work, to see the world around him, to lock eyes with Jayce. ]
I am myself. There's no connection to anything arcane here, just a faint and foreign magic.
[ it's been so long since jayce has seen his face without prismatic colors or the faintly glow of stars and golden threads. it's cathartic. his own amber eyes search for signals firing off, and with a furmer press of his lower lip against the weiggted tip of his front teeth, jayce extends his hand. large palms and fingers rest on the man's thin forearm and rises to his shoulders with a bit more confidence.
this too, he's missed; like he'd lost a part of him when he ceased his own expression through touch, ushering in when he could finally hold his partner back in his arms, up there. ]
Then nothing else matters to me.
[ jayce sighs, exhasperation trickling along the edges of his patience that holds the fort of his compassion like an army, battle ready. he'd been pissed earlier, but jayce can't quite remember the shape of his frustration when it's been tenderized by the specks of delicate moles and very human, beloved eyes. viktor does not need scrutiny, now. he needs—
[ It would be so easy to accept the invitation of Jayce's touch and ease into an embrace regardless of whether this dream space is real, if Jayce is a figment of his imagination. After having so much power at his fingertips, a literal cosmos to explore within his own mind, it's difficult to give up the thought that he might be creating all of this subconsciously. But even Viktor, who knew Jayce better than he knew any other person, wouldn't make a version of him that's so confusing and contradictory.
Huffing, he doesn't shrug off the hand but he also doesn't melt into it despite all his longer. Maybe because of it. ]
Obvious? [ He can't stop the huff of disbelieving laughter that escapes him. ] How can you say that? Everything about you is so confusing, Jayce, even after seeing your memories. I know your end goal, but everything else...
[ Emotions have always been a bit of a difficulty for Viktor, not because he doesn't understand them but because he doesn't often feel them. He can recognize his frustration, his sense of betrayal, but he doesn't like to sit with those things long enough to process them. There's also the fact that he had assumed he'd be going to his death, that he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout of everything he'd done, and definitely wouldn't have to face Jayce again. ]
You shot me. You fought me. You saw my evolved body and you cringed.
[ oh, no. it's like he's touched live wire, feeling his core jolt. jayce's expression falters, falls— and soon the whites of his eyes are fully visible in the dimness of their quasi-lab, or at least the dreamt memory of it. jayce begins to interject, softly, with viktor, and no and it's not like that, until he can't bear the thought steered wrong and cuts in just as soon as viktor stops. ]
—Because I was afraid, [ not appalled. but that is not just one answer. it was to answer every point. why he took the shot. why he fought. why he flinched— his arms are used to speak with him, gestures and movements to emphasize himself. ] afraid you'd— that you'd vanish, that I'd lose you for good!
[ at the height of his climbing emotion, jayce damns sounding overly sentimental. he is raw like nerves exposed, and he'll have to be embarrassed about it some other time. but one other thing he'd felt was also guilt— guilt to have been the cause of that change. if not directly, he triggered the event. he couldn't let viktor go the first time.
it's not as if he's remorseful enough to not repeat the offensem he's fucked up. he knows he is— but he can't let viktor slip away again. ]
If that hadn't been the only way I knew how to bring you back to me, I swear— I swear I wouldn't have, Viktor.
[ The temptation to leave things alone rises with each soft interjection from Jayce that slowly become louder pleas. Afraid? As if Viktor hadn't spent his entire life being afraid. That was one of the core differences between them that would never go away, no matter how long Jayce had spent down in that hole. Viktor's life was a constant struggle against the sealed fate of dying young, and Jayce had been handed so much on a platter regardless of the struggles he may have faced along the path to progress.
Viktor can't help rolling his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. He knows that they shouldn't be fighting, but if not now, when? When else was he going to be able to get it off his chest that he didn't want to be around Jayce right now because he couldn't stand that exact look of fear in his eyes? ]
How am I supposed to react to that? You were scared to lose me, so you killed me. And if you knew killing me would change me, then—
[ A cold shiver runs through him, like a reminder of the weather in the waking world that they'd left behind. ]
[ jayce's reaction is an immediate yes to the question, brows arching together and lips pulling harshly, just as his hand wavers in the air and falls right back into his laps with a sigh. it didn't mean that he knew exactly what to do, he just— followed the landmarks put out by the mage. after rubbing his face once or twice, jayce explains: ]
It would accelerate the eventual process, [ his fingers go right to his wrist out of habit, grabbing for a leather cuff and only being met with skin. he flips it over, palm up; there's only elevated, angry scars there to greet him, and the ghost of where the rune used to be. he'd always look to it for comfort, worn out the leather around it over the years with all his rubbing. to think it was viktor all along made his head spin sometimes. made him feel insignificant, if he dwelled too much on it. ] because I was short on time, too.
[ it was a gamble, but . . . the only way. jayce remembers how the hexcorization burned up his arm after shooting viktor's puppet— how he hid his hands under gloves so no one would be tempted to question him. he was fine with dying, even. it came with the caveat of being with viktor, and fixing what they started. can't get any more perfect an ending than that. ]
[ Viktor feels like a cracking mirror, emotions refracted in each shard of his mind; a piece still coming to grips with what had happened in that frenzied final day, another assuming that Jayce had been nearly as blind as Viktor, a third with sharp edges wondering if anything that Jayce had said was even real or just a calculated step towards ridding the world of Viktor's arcane influence. He'll cut himself if he grasps at anything long enough to examine it, but then Jayce admits his guilt and Viktor has to stand and walk away to get some space. For a few steps he stumbles, not because of his lack of brace but because he instinctively overcorrects for a weakness he doesn't have here.
Accelerate the eventual process. It's spoken so scientifically, as if Viktor's death had been a hypothesis and Jayce were looking for the perfect catalysts to run his experiment. ] Acceleration is what started all of this. Fitting that it would finish it.
[ Sighing, he crosses an arm over his chest and lifts the other so he can put his face in his hand, resting there a moment as he tries to gather himself and glue the pieces back like the fragile glass might serve as some kind of barrier. He wants to be angry, wants to let his betrayal explode out of him, wants to remind Jayce that he'd been the one to make Viktor into the monster he'd ultimately had to slay. That's unproductive, though, and Viktor knows that he'd been the one to cross the line in his experiments with the Hexcore. He's far from innocent, and no matter the reason behind it, Sky hadn't been the last of his casualties. ]
We could have talked. [ Perhaps he's not entirely ready to let it go, now that they're talking about it. ] Hells, Jayce, you didn't even say hello.
[ the silence that pronounces between them isn't going to thin now. jayce's lips move, wordlessly, until they press tight. his hand twitches, to follow— but he forces his limb to return to the top of his leg, where he stays to give viktor the space he needed. speaking of it clinically helped diverge from it. a dissociation that wouldn't pain him as much as it truly did. selfish. what about viktor? his dreams were already haunted. it would be fitting and deserved to live haunted the same damn way.
if he were in the mood for humor, he'd add that that certainly would've helped: oh, hello, viktor. i'm here to kill you. very befitting of the situation. certainly. but he is not in the mood for humor. jayce's brows speak the loudest in this silence, in viktor's questioning. he too, rises then. his legs work. perfect, long, unharmed and still strong, firm. with his hands still fidgeting at his wrist, beginning to scratch at it, he ambles to meet viktor. with earnesty. with worth, if he still had it. viktor deserved that at bare minimum. ]
—I couldn't. [ with quiet chagrin, jayce's fails to meet viktor's gaze at first, but his words are laced with weight. he shoulders it. even if he's suffocating under it. ] I couldn't even look at you. Not once. Speaking would've . . . Undone me, Viktor. And I would've failed you. I would've— Broken one more promise. Like . . . All the other times. [ his gaze pulls up, raw, searching for viktor's. because this was no lie. ] And I . . . I couldn't let that happen again— [ he shakes his head. imagine—? how much more would it hurt, to have jayce look at him as he pulled the trigger? speak to him. he had to fight himself not to run to him after the fact. he nearly did. ] Not to you.
[ jayce feels his eyes sting, but not yet overrun. he's thankful for that, but it doesn't stop a constant blinking to keep the glaze thin. it doesn't stop the vulnerability, and the unspoken sentiment wedged into his chest, lodged up his throat and finding no clear way out. ]
And that's going to haunt me for the rest of my life anyway.
[ because he did look at him, after. he did see the look in his eyes, his last breath, his . . . disbelief. ]
[ The explanation is incredibly selfish, Jayce admitting that he couldn't fulfill his purpose if he humanized Viktor by even a speck, yet it's far from satisfying to hear. Jayce has always been the golden boy, and even if he's had his struggles, it's nothing compared to what people in the undercity went through daily. A blizzard that nearly killed him once versus the daily threat of the Grey, or struggling to get anyone interested in Hextech compared to the crisis of Shimmer-flooded streets—his were champagne problems. Jayce has always been so soft, so sensitive, raised in a warm home and never forced to harden against daily pain and suffering.
But that isn't his fault. It was the history of Piltover and the cruel neglect for the undercity. Jayce had focused on making Hextech as beneficial for all as possible only to be shot down at every turn by the very people who had created the status quo they so eagerly sought to maintain. Viktor feels his blood boil at the memory of Heimerdinger's distain for progress and his skewed opinions on time, and even if he's ultimately been correct about arcane power, that didn't mean he was free of guilt either.
In the end, none of that matters anymore, even if it festers in Viktor's gut like so many resentful worms burrowing into the fertile soil. ]
It will haunt us both. [ Jayce will need to work on regaining a trust that had been broken over a longer period than Viktor would like to admit. He may not bring it up now, or ever, but being abandoned while his body's conditioned spiraled had planted that seed of doubt—broken promises and violence had simply helped it grow. ] But it seems you're a danger to yourself when I'm not around, and you've proven you'll stop at nothing to find me. If you can make and keep another promise, then I'll stay with you.
[ jayce flinches like he's just touched a bear trap, if only for a second. of all the times he's been without viktor, well, yes— he has been a danger to himself, so that's just harsh truth, starting with the first day they ever really, truly spoke to one another. without viktor to lure him off the ledge, they wouldn't have spoken to begin with.
he owes him so much and never repaid even half of it. instead he stacked up disappointments. jayce wonders, again, if being left in the ravine was even enough, even when he'd constantly wonder: was he angry at me or was it necessary? why did he leave me twice? it's three times, now. was it deserved? of course it was deserved— how many times did i leave?
jayce never gets far when he starts blaming himself. it was either that or bouts of blaming others, and even that was another brand of irrational and painful.
jayce has no room to object, here. he would become relentless to find viktor and fall down countless holes again, it didn't matter— there's nothing to argue about when it comes to the truth. promise makes his eyelids twitch, but before he can properly ask what it is— ]
I will. I swear it.
[ he kept his last promise, went to wild ends to keep it. risked wounding viktor so much that he'd leave him for good. but he does not think he can not do it again. jayce does not think twice: for viktor, as long as it wasn't impossible, he would end worlds. he would destroy his trustworthiness. he has recently proved he would go to terrible lengths to see viktor through.
[ It's a relief when Jayce doesn't leap to defend himself, accepting the painful truth no matter how bitter a pill it may be to swallow. Viktor doesn't enjoy forcing it down his throat, not when his favorite sound in the world is Jayce's laughter and there's nothing he'd rather see dawn on his face than a bright smile. This is reality, though, and a harsh one at that—the endless night and vicious creatures and city full of only ghosts is evidence enough of that.
In another situation, when there isn't a snarled tangle of emotions writhing in Viktor's chest, he would have laughed and pointed out that Jayce didn't know what he was swearing to yet. This feels like more blind faith in Viktor, though a very twisted and broken version compared to the sagely version met above a high peak like some kind of fairy tale. This Viktor doesn't know the future, only knows himself, and even that is a fractured and skewed image he doesn't want to linger on right now. ]
Don't stare at me. [ His tone is flat, factual like he's presenting the conditions of an experiment rather than a personal boundary. ] If there is anything physical that you notice about me that isn't life-threatening, keep it to yourself.
[ for a brief moment, jayce seems startled. a moment more, and he brings his already fixed gaze half downcast. one part of him thinks: that's all? and another part wilts with profound guilt at what it fully entails. there's no objecting to it, now. there was never any room for that if jayce wanted one more chance to be at his side. he could be upset about abandonment some other time, and keep that to himself, too. ]
Okay. [ he submits, relents, and nods, quiet words following. ] Alright.
[ something still bubbles in jayce's chest, wanting out. it lodges in his throat like a splinter as he fidgets his fingers. it's strange. part of him still feels— unjustified. misunderstood. he'd always tried his best and done what would protect them at the time. he kicked heimerdinger off the council, and to this day that ball of fur pisses him of for what he did to viktor. he made weapons because he was nearly sawed in half, and could've done worse to viktor, to mel— it was true that he'd been busy with council duties, or . . . luxuries. looking at his reflection too much when he should've been dropping everything to help viktor to begin with. it was something pushed onto him, too. if viktor had just told him what he was doing, he'd— he would've dropped everything, he'd . . .
he hid it from him, instead.
it was a tangle, and jayce buries his face in his hands to rub at them and relieve the tension in them. he resented the council for pushing this onto him. he resented not having the gall to say no. he resented what that did to his views of topside and undercity. fueled by an undeniable amount of stress and fear, he still remembers that bridge— the day it slipped out of him, unfair, and the day viktor looked at him differently. he resented himself, most of all. he should have resigned so much sooner, or better yet— he shouldn't have accepted at all. who knew, you could still say no.
but even then, he'd been afraid. that it would have stripped their funding to bare bones. that it would've driven him to another ledge.
there was never a clean way out, when he analyzed it, and jayce distinctly remembers how crazy it made him when he had even more time on his hands to think about his failures in the ravine. ]
. . . I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart, [ genuine, apologetic doesn't begin to scrape the surface of his remorse, but there is just so much words could do, here. but he had to try. ] that I did that to you.
I don't— want forgiveness. I don't think I even deserve it. Just . . . [ he gestures, resigned, ] Know.
[ if he didn't want to accept that, either— jayce supposes he'll just have to live with it. like so many other things he'll simply have to stick in a bottle and leave unsaid. ]
[ It breaks his heart a little to hear his own dark thoughts echoed back to him in Jayce's voice. Would he ever be able to forgive Jayce for everything that he's done, all the things he's been complacent in? On a surface level, of course. He might reach a point where he wouldn't linger on the thought any time his eyes lingered on Jayce's face, a time when he would be able to say the words "I forgive you" aloud, but he fears there may always been a small, rotten piece of him that will hold on to all of his resentments for the rest of his days.
Perhaps it breaks his heart more to hear that Jayce knows he'd laid the groundwork for Viktor to take his current form as well as believing it was something he needed to apologize for. This body—the one he'd left behind in reality, at least—is still so new to him. He'd tasted its power for less than a day, felt the strength and freedom it offered, only to end up in a version of it that feels more like a prison than a pair of wings. It's not the body that's the problem but the lack of autonomy he'd had, the countless forces using him for their own selfish means, and no one but Jayce ever stopping to get to know Viktor well enough to care about his own needs. ]
I know you thought it was necessary. [ Jayce doesn't believe he deserves forgiveness, so Viktor isn't going to pretend he can absolve him of his guilt. ] I just wish you could have trusted the version of me you knew to find a solution rather than blindly following my future self. I'm the one you have to live with now.
[ jayce would always fall for any and all viktors. his necessity to act was to prevent the present from becoming the future. it felt . . . like the only path he could follow when his viktor's perspective was twisted, gnarled and corrupted because of his inability to live without him.
as long as they could speak. listen. understand, not all times agree but work through it— it is more than jayce could ask for. he cannot demand more than what he is miraculously receiving. there is no better path now than forward, if they are being given that chance. so, quiet and resigned, jayce makes his intentions known: ]
That's all I want. [ just viktor. viktor, the way he was. viktor with all his perfect misalignments. viktor and all thee time spent wasted. viktor, with life. viktor with his brilliance and his whitty tongue, his sharp accent. jayce could embrace him; his heart yearn— his body refrains, restive fingers running across the webbing at the core of his wrist, and the scars spiraling outward. ] I wasn't what you needed for a long time . . . But I want to be.
[ viktor is giving him that chance. he won't mess it up. ]
[ You fool, Viktor thinks, chewing at the inside of his cheek to hold back the words, You've always been what I needed. ]
Then we'll make the best of this opportunity. [ Letting his arms drop from where they'd been crossed in front of him, defensive, he sighs a little. This is by no means the end of the conversation, but it is a momentary truce because there is too much at stake. Viktor firmly believes that Jayce will follow him anywhere he might try to go alone, a danger to himself more than others, and that's a guilt that Viktor doesn't want to add to what he already feels.
He steps closer again, catching the back of a chair on his way and dragging it with him to sit near Jayce. It's hard to say what furniture is real or imagined, dreamed up to match their surroundings or pulled from memories of their lab. ]
We should probably wake up soon. You were delusional from hypothermia and shock when I found you, and even if you're stable now, we need better shelter.
[ to meet viktor halfway through his stride with a seat, jayce pulls for a stool nearby— likely viktor's, to pick himself up and sit upon it the same way he had when waiting, quite anxiously, for viktor to wake up from his ressurection. he doesn't know how it happens either, but as he settles, he's picked something up, to keep close to his grip like a hug for comfort. viktor's crutch, with fingers playing with the shaft's meticulous design, worn and shaped by the years. ]
How? [ even if he's lucidly dreaming, jayce considers the difficulty in telling one's brain to rise from such a deep slumber to cause dreaming to begin with. what wakes someone up? he pinders this, eyes to the ground to catalogue possibilities until he pins one under a mental folder of importance. ] We'd need . . . Some sort of kick?
[ The sight of his cane is a shock, especially to see it clutched in Jayce's arms as if he needs it for support as much as Viktor had in a previous life. He doesn't want to linger on the idea of it being here, doesn't want to give in to the memory of a weak leg and pangs of pain up his spine and lungs struggling to draw in air.
Even if he's a monster, at least he's no longer actively dying. ]
A kick. [ He echoes the word thoughtfully, understanding the thought process but wondering why Jayce would immediately turn to a violent term. ] Yes, essentially. Or sheer willpower.
Now, how to get that, [ wordless, searching gesture, ] kick . . .
[ he's thinking a start. a jolt. an electric charge of sorts that lead to cranking it. jayce begins going into thought the way he likes best, the way the illusion of the lab provides: a place where the pair would put their heads together and think up their greatest ideas at witching hour and nothing but coffe and cold sandwich leftovers at most. jayce idly shifts around on the stool using the balls of his feet, twisting this way and that while using the crutch as a supporting pillar.
eventually, his thoughtful rolling leads him to "his" side of the lab's counter, crossing his feet up. professors would scold him eternally. jayce, on the other hand, thinks better. his only miscalculation is that this isn't his stiff-legged chair.
he commits the risky act of tipping back, trusting the crutch too much to hold him. ]
Have you ever had a dream here you f—
[ the stool springs inward with bided momentum. he falls back first—
[ Viktor is taking a different approach by trying to will himself awake, but the distraction of Jayce wheeling around and muttering under his breath it... well, distracting. It's impossible not to let himself return to memories of their past in the lab, working together in order to puzzle through a problem and create the solution. He can feel the dangerous allure of falling back into the way things were when clearly, they could never be the same starry-eyed young men they had once been.
Closing his eyes, trying to focus on everything he knows to be inaccurate here, unrealistic, his eyes fly open at the sound of a crash and then the sight of Jayce blinking out of existence. Viktor sits alone for a moment, bathed in silence, and then gives one manic burst of laughter that's impossible to hold back. Stupid yet effective. ]
[ jayce stirs the next moment. he feels a strange mix of warmth heating him up, and cold nipping at his extremities. to feel the discomfort of cold at all was a good sign, and the warmth around him had been fighting to keep it at bay. with the shivering less pronounced but drenched slick in his own sweat, jayce fruitlessly shifts where he sits, back to viktor's lanky, draping frame.
he groans as he comes to, blinking through the fog and pounding headache to think of two things. the first, how dressed in blankets and foreign limbs he was, like a holiday turkey ready for the stove. the second:
a whisper of "viktor". any louder and he thinks his head may split in half. ]
[ The combination of trying to wake up and the gentle calling of his name by a voice so adept at making his name sound like a song, Viktor follows to wakefulness a few moments later. He swims back into a body that doesn't feel entirely his own, too-long limbs still wrapped around Jayce like a spider cradling its prey. It takes too much effort to move, living metal frozen stiff from the cold and being inactive for too long. ]
Fuck. [ His voice is metallic again, ball bearings grinding against each other thanks to the frigid rust between. ] How do you feel?
[ jayce's movement intensifies by a smidge, only enough that he's lifting his hand on his own to the crown of his head, drawing his good leg's knee into a bend while the other adjusts sideways. some spots that have remained stuck in the same position for long ache, and beyond that— almost every muscle in his body protests from the fatigue cause by shaking like a twig in a storm. coherent enough to respond with clarity, jayce groans through his teeth: ]
Like shit.
[ the fog clears around the middle of his vision while the edges remain clouded. that could go away with some blinking. probably. his memory is equally scattered, unsure of what happened or where he was expect for the most recent, dreamlike exchange that felt heavy on his chest. ]
[ Stretching his legs out in front of him, careful not to jostle Jayce in the process, Viktor groans and slumps back against the wall behind him, arms falling to either side. He had planned to carry Jayce out of here, but not that he feels the aftershock of using so much energy on magic, he doesn't know if he even has the strength to lift himself out of this hole. ]
As real as anything else. [ What was the definition of real, anyways? If everything in the world was experienced through the senses which just sent signals to the brain, what is to say that dreams aren't just as real? ] Real in that it happened, and we were both there.
at least he said what he said. jayce avoids nodding his head, but there's a quiet sort of agreement in the way he hangs it. he doesn't think that's the last of it— there's plenty still left unsaid, but one could only shoulder so much before it gets exhausting for both parties.
he's scraping his gaze around them, now, only briefly touching base on viktor's presence before he can be accused of staring and pulls his probing gaze away for an exit. ]
[ If Viktor could raise an eyebrow, he would; instead, he cocks his head to one side and slightly angles his head to clearly eye Jayce. ]
Can you?
[ Pulling his legs back towards himself, he folds them beneath his body and stands with a creaking groan of metal being tested to its limits. He hadn't considered what might happen to him in cold temperatures, never thought about what a living metal body would become without its main power source, but there is at least some magic left in him to keep him... alive.
Now isn't the time to think about it. He extends a hand down to Jayce and waits expectantly to help him to his feet. ]
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Still. Has he really been himself since the Hexcore had replaced his heart? He'd felt like himself when something had literally smashed the mask from his eyes and forced him to face the truth of his great work, to see the world around him, to lock eyes with Jayce. ]
I am myself. There's no connection to anything arcane here, just a faint and foreign magic.
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this too, he's missed; like he'd lost a part of him when he ceased his own expression through touch, ushering in when he could finally hold his partner back in his arms, up there. ]
Then nothing else matters to me.
[ jayce sighs, exhasperation trickling along the edges of his patience that holds the fort of his compassion like an army, battle ready. he'd been pissed earlier, but jayce can't quite remember the shape of his frustration when it's been tenderized by the specks of delicate moles and very human, beloved eyes. viktor does not need scrutiny, now. he needs—
jayce. he needs jayce, and jayce needs him. ]
I thought that much was obvious, V.
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Huffing, he doesn't shrug off the hand but he also doesn't melt into it despite all his longer. Maybe because of it. ]
Obvious? [ He can't stop the huff of disbelieving laughter that escapes him. ] How can you say that? Everything about you is so confusing, Jayce, even after seeing your memories. I know your end goal, but everything else...
[ Emotions have always been a bit of a difficulty for Viktor, not because he doesn't understand them but because he doesn't often feel them. He can recognize his frustration, his sense of betrayal, but he doesn't like to sit with those things long enough to process them. There's also the fact that he had assumed he'd be going to his death, that he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout of everything he'd done, and definitely wouldn't have to face Jayce again. ]
You shot me. You fought me. You saw my evolved body and you cringed.
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—Because I was afraid, [ not appalled. but that is not just one answer. it was to answer every point. why he took the shot. why he fought. why he flinched— his arms are used to speak with him, gestures and movements to emphasize himself. ] afraid you'd— that you'd vanish, that I'd lose you for good!
[ at the height of his climbing emotion, jayce damns sounding overly sentimental. he is raw like nerves exposed, and he'll have to be embarrassed about it some other time. but one other thing he'd felt was also guilt— guilt to have been the cause of that change. if not directly, he triggered the event. he couldn't let viktor go the first time.
it's not as if he's remorseful enough to not repeat the offensem he's fucked up. he knows he is— but he can't let viktor slip away again. ]
If that hadn't been the only way I knew how to bring you back to me, I swear— I swear I wouldn't have, Viktor.
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Viktor can't help rolling his eyes, folding his arms over his chest. He knows that they shouldn't be fighting, but if not now, when? When else was he going to be able to get it off his chest that he didn't want to be around Jayce right now because he couldn't stand that exact look of fear in his eyes? ]
How am I supposed to react to that? You were scared to lose me, so you killed me. And if you knew killing me would change me, then—
[ A cold shiver runs through him, like a reminder of the weather in the waking world that they'd left behind. ]
Did you know?
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It would accelerate the eventual process, [ his fingers go right to his wrist out of habit, grabbing for a leather cuff and only being met with skin. he flips it over, palm up; there's only elevated, angry scars there to greet him, and the ghost of where the rune used to be. he'd always look to it for comfort, worn out the leather around it over the years with all his rubbing. to think it was viktor all along made his head spin sometimes. made him feel insignificant, if he dwelled too much on it. ] because I was short on time, too.
[ it was a gamble, but . . . the only way. jayce remembers how the hexcorization burned up his arm after shooting viktor's puppet— how he hid his hands under gloves so no one would be tempted to question him. he was fine with dying, even. it came with the caveat of being with viktor, and fixing what they started. can't get any more perfect an ending than that. ]
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Accelerate the eventual process. It's spoken so scientifically, as if Viktor's death had been a hypothesis and Jayce were looking for the perfect catalysts to run his experiment. ] Acceleration is what started all of this. Fitting that it would finish it.
[ Sighing, he crosses an arm over his chest and lifts the other so he can put his face in his hand, resting there a moment as he tries to gather himself and glue the pieces back like the fragile glass might serve as some kind of barrier. He wants to be angry, wants to let his betrayal explode out of him, wants to remind Jayce that he'd been the one to make Viktor into the monster he'd ultimately had to slay. That's unproductive, though, and Viktor knows that he'd been the one to cross the line in his experiments with the Hexcore. He's far from innocent, and no matter the reason behind it, Sky hadn't been the last of his casualties. ]
We could have talked. [ Perhaps he's not entirely ready to let it go, now that they're talking about it. ] Hells, Jayce, you didn't even say hello.
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if he were in the mood for humor, he'd add that that certainly would've helped: oh, hello, viktor. i'm here to kill you. very befitting of the situation. certainly. but he is not in the mood for humor. jayce's brows speak the loudest in this silence, in viktor's questioning. he too, rises then. his legs work. perfect, long, unharmed and still strong, firm. with his hands still fidgeting at his wrist, beginning to scratch at it, he ambles to meet viktor. with earnesty. with worth, if he still had it. viktor deserved that at bare minimum. ]
—I couldn't. [ with quiet chagrin, jayce's fails to meet viktor's gaze at first, but his words are laced with weight. he shoulders it. even if he's suffocating under it. ] I couldn't even look at you. Not once. Speaking would've . . . Undone me, Viktor. And I would've failed you. I would've— Broken one more promise. Like . . . All the other times. [ his gaze pulls up, raw, searching for viktor's. because this was no lie. ] And I . . . I couldn't let that happen again— [ he shakes his head. imagine—? how much more would it hurt, to have jayce look at him as he pulled the trigger? speak to him. he had to fight himself not to run to him after the fact. he nearly did. ] Not to you.
[ jayce feels his eyes sting, but not yet overrun. he's thankful for that, but it doesn't stop a constant blinking to keep the glaze thin. it doesn't stop the vulnerability, and the unspoken sentiment wedged into his chest, lodged up his throat and finding no clear way out. ]
And that's going to haunt me for the rest of my life anyway.
[ because he did look at him, after. he did see the look in his eyes, his last breath, his . . . disbelief. ]
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But that isn't his fault. It was the history of Piltover and the cruel neglect for the undercity. Jayce had focused on making Hextech as beneficial for all as possible only to be shot down at every turn by the very people who had created the status quo they so eagerly sought to maintain. Viktor feels his blood boil at the memory of Heimerdinger's distain for progress and his skewed opinions on time, and even if he's ultimately been correct about arcane power, that didn't mean he was free of guilt either.
In the end, none of that matters anymore, even if it festers in Viktor's gut like so many resentful worms burrowing into the fertile soil. ]
It will haunt us both. [ Jayce will need to work on regaining a trust that had been broken over a longer period than Viktor would like to admit. He may not bring it up now, or ever, but being abandoned while his body's conditioned spiraled had planted that seed of doubt—broken promises and violence had simply helped it grow. ] But it seems you're a danger to yourself when I'm not around, and you've proven you'll stop at nothing to find me. If you can make and keep another promise, then I'll stay with you.
cw: suicide mention
he owes him so much and never repaid even half of it. instead he stacked up disappointments. jayce wonders, again, if being left in the ravine was even enough, even when he'd constantly wonder: was he angry at me or was it necessary? why did he leave me twice? it's three times, now. was it deserved? of course it was deserved— how many times did i leave?
jayce never gets far when he starts blaming himself. it was either that or bouts of blaming others, and even that was another brand of irrational and painful.
jayce has no room to object, here. he would become relentless to find viktor and fall down countless holes again, it didn't matter— there's nothing to argue about when it comes to the truth. promise makes his eyelids twitch, but before he can properly ask what it is— ]
I will. I swear it.
[ he kept his last promise, went to wild ends to keep it. risked wounding viktor so much that he'd leave him for good. but he does not think he can not do it again. jayce does not think twice: for viktor, as long as it wasn't impossible, he would end worlds. he would destroy his trustworthiness. he has recently proved he would go to terrible lengths to see viktor through.
never again, shall he mess up with him. ]
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In another situation, when there isn't a snarled tangle of emotions writhing in Viktor's chest, he would have laughed and pointed out that Jayce didn't know what he was swearing to yet. This feels like more blind faith in Viktor, though a very twisted and broken version compared to the sagely version met above a high peak like some kind of fairy tale. This Viktor doesn't know the future, only knows himself, and even that is a fractured and skewed image he doesn't want to linger on right now. ]
Don't stare at me. [ His tone is flat, factual like he's presenting the conditions of an experiment rather than a personal boundary. ] If there is anything physical that you notice about me that isn't life-threatening, keep it to yourself.
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Okay. [ he submits, relents, and nods, quiet words following. ] Alright.
[ something still bubbles in jayce's chest, wanting out. it lodges in his throat like a splinter as he fidgets his fingers. it's strange. part of him still feels— unjustified. misunderstood. he'd always tried his best and done what would protect them at the time. he kicked heimerdinger off the council, and to this day that ball of fur pisses him of for what he did to viktor. he made weapons because he was nearly sawed in half, and could've done worse to viktor, to mel— it was true that he'd been busy with council duties, or . . . luxuries. looking at his reflection too much when he should've been dropping everything to help viktor to begin with. it was something pushed onto him, too. if viktor had just told him what he was doing, he'd— he would've dropped everything, he'd . . .
he hid it from him, instead.
it was a tangle, and jayce buries his face in his hands to rub at them and relieve the tension in them. he resented the council for pushing this onto him. he resented not having the gall to say no. he resented what that did to his views of topside and undercity. fueled by an undeniable amount of stress and fear, he still remembers that bridge— the day it slipped out of him, unfair, and the day viktor looked at him differently. he resented himself, most of all. he should have resigned so much sooner, or better yet— he shouldn't have accepted at all. who knew, you could still say no.
but even then, he'd been afraid. that it would have stripped their funding to bare bones. that it would've driven him to another ledge.
there was never a clean way out, when he analyzed it, and jayce distinctly remembers how crazy it made him when he had even more time on his hands to think about his failures in the ravine. ]
. . . I'm sorry. From the bottom of my heart, [ genuine, apologetic doesn't begin to scrape the surface of his remorse, but there is just so much words could do, here. but he had to try. ] that I did that to you.
I don't— want forgiveness. I don't think I even deserve it. Just . . . [ he gestures, resigned, ] Know.
[ if he didn't want to accept that, either— jayce supposes he'll just have to live with it. like so many other things he'll simply have to stick in a bottle and leave unsaid. ]
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Perhaps it breaks his heart more to hear that Jayce knows he'd laid the groundwork for Viktor to take his current form as well as believing it was something he needed to apologize for. This body—the one he'd left behind in reality, at least—is still so new to him. He'd tasted its power for less than a day, felt the strength and freedom it offered, only to end up in a version of it that feels more like a prison than a pair of wings. It's not the body that's the problem but the lack of autonomy he'd had, the countless forces using him for their own selfish means, and no one but Jayce ever stopping to get to know Viktor well enough to care about his own needs. ]
I know you thought it was necessary. [ Jayce doesn't believe he deserves forgiveness, so Viktor isn't going to pretend he can absolve him of his guilt. ] I just wish you could have trusted the version of me you knew to find a solution rather than blindly following my future self. I'm the one you have to live with now.
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as long as they could speak. listen. understand, not all times agree but work through it— it is more than jayce could ask for. he cannot demand more than what he is miraculously receiving. there is no better path now than forward, if they are being given that chance. so, quiet and resigned, jayce makes his intentions known: ]
That's all I want. [ just viktor. viktor, the way he was. viktor with all his perfect misalignments. viktor and all thee time spent wasted. viktor, with life. viktor with his brilliance and his whitty tongue, his sharp accent. jayce could embrace him; his heart yearn— his body refrains, restive fingers running across the webbing at the core of his wrist, and the scars spiraling outward. ] I wasn't what you needed for a long time . . . But I want to be.
[ viktor is giving him that chance. he won't mess it up. ]
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Then we'll make the best of this opportunity. [ Letting his arms drop from where they'd been crossed in front of him, defensive, he sighs a little. This is by no means the end of the conversation, but it is a momentary truce because there is too much at stake. Viktor firmly believes that Jayce will follow him anywhere he might try to go alone, a danger to himself more than others, and that's a guilt that Viktor doesn't want to add to what he already feels.
He steps closer again, catching the back of a chair on his way and dragging it with him to sit near Jayce. It's hard to say what furniture is real or imagined, dreamed up to match their surroundings or pulled from memories of their lab. ]
We should probably wake up soon. You were delusional from hypothermia and shock when I found you, and even if you're stable now, we need better shelter.
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How? [ even if he's lucidly dreaming, jayce considers the difficulty in telling one's brain to rise from such a deep slumber to cause dreaming to begin with. what wakes someone up? he pinders this, eyes to the ground to catalogue possibilities until he pins one under a mental folder of importance. ] We'd need . . . Some sort of kick?
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Even if he's a monster, at least he's no longer actively dying. ]
A kick. [ He echoes the word thoughtfully, understanding the thought process but wondering why Jayce would immediately turn to a violent term. ] Yes, essentially. Or sheer willpower.
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[ he's thinking a start. a jolt. an electric charge of sorts that lead to cranking it. jayce begins going into thought the way he likes best, the way the illusion of the lab provides: a place where the pair would put their heads together and think up their greatest ideas at witching hour and nothing but coffe and cold sandwich leftovers at most. jayce idly shifts around on the stool using the balls of his feet, twisting this way and that while using the crutch as a supporting pillar.
eventually, his thoughtful rolling leads him to "his" side of the lab's counter, crossing his feet up. professors would scold him eternally. jayce, on the other hand, thinks better. his only miscalculation is that this isn't his stiff-legged chair.
he commits the risky act of tipping back, trusting the crutch too much to hold him. ]
Have you ever had a dream here you f—
[ the stool springs inward with bided momentum. he falls back first—
and disappears. ]
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Closing his eyes, trying to focus on everything he knows to be inaccurate here, unrealistic, his eyes fly open at the sound of a crash and then the sight of Jayce blinking out of existence. Viktor sits alone for a moment, bathed in silence, and then gives one manic burst of laughter that's impossible to hold back. Stupid yet effective. ]
shakes my fists WHERE not HERE
he groans as he comes to, blinking through the fog and pounding headache to think of two things. the first, how dressed in blankets and foreign limbs he was, like a holiday turkey ready for the stove. the second:
a whisper of "viktor". any louder and he thinks his head may split in half. ]
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Fuck. [ His voice is metallic again, ball bearings grinding against each other thanks to the frigid rust between. ] How do you feel?
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Like shit.
[ the fog clears around the middle of his vision while the edges remain clouded. that could go away with some blinking. probably. his memory is equally scattered, unsure of what happened or where he was expect for the most recent, dreamlike exchange that felt heavy on his chest. ]
Was that real—?
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As real as anything else. [ What was the definition of real, anyways? If everything in the world was experienced through the senses which just sent signals to the brain, what is to say that dreams aren't just as real? ] Real in that it happened, and we were both there.
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at least he said what he said. jayce avoids nodding his head, but there's a quiet sort of agreement in the way he hangs it. he doesn't think that's the last of it— there's plenty still left unsaid, but one could only shoulder so much before it gets exhausting for both parties.
he's scraping his gaze around them, now, only briefly touching base on viktor's presence before he can be accused of staring and pulls his probing gaze away for an exit. ]
Can you stand?
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Can you?
[ Pulling his legs back towards himself, he folds them beneath his body and stands with a creaking groan of metal being tested to its limits. He hadn't considered what might happen to him in cold temperatures, never thought about what a living metal body would become without its main power source, but there is at least some magic left in him to keep him... alive.
Now isn't the time to think about it. He extends a hand down to Jayce and waits expectantly to help him to his feet. ]
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and that's a wrap!