Chapter Text
"The misery, the exquisite tragedy. The Susan Hayward of it all."
In all honesty, this was probably the lowest he’d ever been.
An intercom went off. The muffled voice was barely audible through the stampede of footsteps and the sea of voices; sleep and sanity slowly ripped from his being, thread by agonizing thread.
Newly divorced and looking for some solid ground to gain his bearings, Jayce sighed as he sank back against the uncomfortable backing of the airport chair. Perhaps, not the type of solid he needed, but it had to be better than rock-bottom where Jayce found himself crawling himself out of.
No other direction to go but up, right?
His eyelids felt heavy and the crowding bustle of the airport did little to alleviate the budding migraine that seeded deep within his frontal lobe. Red-eye flights were never his favorite, but he supposed his eyes were red for a myriad of other reasons.
A child squealed somewhere nearby, hopping into the open arms of a happy father while a smiling and giggling mother snapped a photo of the simple joy: the fleeting moment of familial bliss.
Or, you know,
To post on social media.
Jayce scoffed. Being divorced in his early 30’s was feeding something ugly to his cynicism.
He and Mel hadn’t even wanted kids. Well, she didn’t, anyways.
His phone pinged a notification and Jayce felt a single tendril (of the many) stubbornly suffocating whatever was left of him, suddenly release.
Viktor.
“I’m at the pick-up line for arrivals. Zone 3.”
Straight and to the point. Jayce replied in kind, knowing there’d be too much to type down when Viktor was a few minutes away. Seeing Viktor again at least afforded him one tiny reprieve from the spiraling shitshow that his life was becoming.
When Mel had shown up with the papers and left Jayce staring out at nothing in particular for far too many hours, the blue sky bleeding into purples and pinks, he found himself reaching for his phone and scrolling down through months-old texts until reaching a familiar icon. His finger had hovered over the Call button before the gravity of the situation broke him.
Jayce didn’t even remember what he said. He only recalled it took two rings for Viktor to answer, and that Viktor had texted him flight details after their call.
The call lasted about 2 minutes according to his call history, but that didn’t matter to Jayce.
All he needed to know was that Viktor wanted him here, that Jayce still had someplace (someone) to call home.
That was how Jayce found himself stuffing whatever clothes he could find in his closet, his laptop, phone charger, wallet and ID into a single duffle while leaving his memories behind to likely cry on his best friend’s shoulder, get pathetically drunk, while Viktor indulged him in the sorriest state he’d likely ever seen him in.
Which was fine.
Totally fine.
Jayce didn’t quite jog towards the pick-up zone, but he did hasten his steps the moment he saw Viktor’s car—same brand, year, and model, still in its pristine condition despite being a solid decade (or two) old. He spotted Viktor’s silhouette through the windshield and Jayce felt his heart warm so rapidly, he thought he’d have an impressively monumental breakdown right then and there.
Jayce gave a wave and a wobbly smile as the car drove to a stop beside him.
Viktor wasted no time unlocking the door and popping open the trunk, Jayce immediately diving into the front passenger seat and enveloping Viktor with the tightest hug known to man before said man could even get a word out.
And Viktor,
His dearest Viktor,
Didn’t even question it, didn’t even startle in surprise.
He only clung just as tightly, rubbing Jayce’s back as he twisted around at an awkward angle that could not be good for that spine of his, as he said “Oh, Jayce…” in the most disgustingly patient and sympathetic voice Jayce ever heard.
And it was there that Jayce had his impressively monumental breakdown, right there in Viktor’s car, his luggage still sitting out on the pavement, and an airport officer blowing a whistle at them to keep the line moving.
Jayce could only laugh in-between rib-shattering sobs as Viktor loudly cursed them back in Czech.
“You grew out your hair,” Jayce commented, sipping on the same high-calorie, artificially-sweet-tasting milkshake he used to guzzle down in college during finals week.
Viktor left his own untouched, sitting on the cupholder between them. Responsibly, Viktor insisted on keeping his eyes on the road while driving.
But even after they'd parked, no doubt, Viktor would offer it to Jayce after he finished his.
Just like old times.
“I got too lazy to cut it,” was the simple, direct response. A pause, then further elaboration. “Learning how to tie it in a bun took far less time than finding a new barber I could trust.”
Jayce learned early on in their friendship that Viktor had a surprising amount to say—if only someone gave him the chance to.
“It looks nice,” Jayce said, biting back a grin at seeing Viktor duck his face out of view, the same way he always did whenever someone gave him a compliment. “You must be beating off lovesick grad students with that cane of yours these days.”
Jayce expected a scoff, and if Viktor were particularly annoyed, even an unbecoming snort of derision at the bold implication, as if students definitely weren't clamoring to get Viktor’s number.
And not particularly for assistance in classes either.
But instead, Jayce was treated with another response: “Not…typically, no,” Viktor said, voice just a touch softer and lower than Jayce expected from him. There was a pause, thoughtful, maybe even intentional. “They know better by now.”
Jayce nodded. As close as he and Viktor were (are, Jayce reminded himself, Viktor is and always will be his best friend), he’d never really found Viktor the type to get swept off his feet, to romance someone that suited his fancy. Viktor always kept his razor-sharp focus aimed at his career and education and very little else encroached on his private world.
Jayce counted himself as part of a proud exception, of course.
After all, who else would land himself in such a deprecating situation that necessitated Viktor to dote on him with greasy fast food, car rides down familiar streets, and chatting about Viktor’s new teaching position at their old university and his current projects like no time's passed?
All while Viktor patiently allowed Jayce the dignity and opportunity to rip open the bandaid in his own time, stewing over shared comforts, willfully ignoring the ugly reality that will eventually hit him like a freight train in the form of an empty apartment and a failed marriage.
Viktor parked the car in the staff parking garage while Jayce admired its prime location, situated behind the professors’ office buildings making for peak efficiency in making quick getaways from students during office hours.
“Apologies, Jayce, I’ll just need to pick something up from my office.” Viktor unbuckled himself from his seat and readied his cane. He turned back to him. “You can have my shake and stay here if you want.”
Jayce felt his affection grow for this beautiful man tenfold. “I’ll take the shake, but I’ll come with you!”
(There was a hesitancy in Viktor’s eyes, the slightest pause betwixt Jayce’s insistence and Viktor’s own crafted response—)
“Of course,” Viktor nodded. “You’ll find that not much has really changed.”
“Yeah,” Jayce murmured, placing a hand on the small of Viktor’s back as he fell into step with him. “That’s what’s great about this place.”
Viktor’s office was exactly as Jayce had envisioned it in his mind: an organized clutter that only Viktor could maneuver and decipher where everything had a place and every place had a thing.
Papers were stacked neatly and filed with meticulous detail, towering precariously over a straining side table, several lamps with their wires cluttering up the sparse outlets providing most of the lighting, and a thriving houseplant flanking the professional office chair (with orthopedic back support, of course).
Jayce gave a low whistle, taking it all in as Viktor rolled his eyes while muttering under his breath, "Není to tak působivé…”
Probably downplaying his achievements. Again.
With wandering eyes, Jayce immediately noted a stark item in this little sanctuary: Viktor’s name, boldly emblazoned on a nameplate upon the desk with its blocky letters and cold steel. It was a rather brutalist object that was just the slightest touch out of place.
In fact, looking closely, there were other oddities that begged questioning:
Small framed photos, Polaroids, or something like it, with blurry lines and streaks of light, blotches of color that may or may not have been genuine attempts at modern art.
Or just botched pictures proudly hung on display.
It took no time at all for Viktor to locate the file waiting for him at the top of his keyboard. Turning to Jayce, he didn’t seem all too surprised to see his perplexed expression. “It seems I have no talent for photography,” Viktor said, reading Jayce’s mind. Not that it bothered Jayce.
He was used to Viktor knowing him, inside and out. “You’re better at designing and sketching anyways.” Jayce squinted. “I don’t recognize any of these.”
“Ah, they’re—” A pause. More deliberate. “More recent.”
The abstract blobs became people. The streaks of color, places.
Memories.
Right.
Jayce had no right to have that sinking feeling in his chest. Of course Viktor had a life of his own. He knew that. Knew that time marched forward for everyone and just because Jayce kept his memories with Viktor locked in a vault, somewhere deep within his heart to look fondly of, didn’t mean that Viktor remained there,
Never changing,
Never progressing,
Never moving forward.
But all that mattered was that it didn’t feel like anything’s changed, right?
Even if Viktor did come to pick him up with a new haircut, a new job, new friends, and new hobbies—
He was still Viktor.
And that was all Jayce could desperately cling to. “Mmm, any other more recent hobbies?” Jayce forced a smile. “More successful ventures, I hope.”
“I’ve taken to baking,” Viktor said, as nonchalantly as Jayce getting hit by a truck.
“Baking?!”
Viktor shrugged. “It’s an interesting science. It’s quite fascinating to see just how the most minute adjustments of ingredients, environment, and ratios can vastly alter the end-product.”
“Should we get your blood sugar checked?” Jayce joked. “I could barely trust you with sweets we bought and now you’re making them at home?”
Viktor shrugged. “I usually share—with the department and some friends.”
“What?!” All right, Jayce had every right to be offended at this. “Only after I moved away, huh,” he huffed.
Viktor chuckled. “Think of it this way: my trials and tribulations starting out have given you the opportunity to sample my more seasoned skills.”
“You’re saying you’ve been practicing all this time to show me what you’ve got?” Jayce teased, smile widening at the unamused expression Viktor shot him. “All right, I’m game! Oh! Do you think you can make pan de polvo like mamá makes?”
Viktor pondered the request—likely cataloguing the contents of his pantry. “Just like how your mother makes it?”
“What, you think you can do better?” Jayce was a mama’s boy at heart—what he was proposing was absolute heresy.
But if Viktor was confident… “Hm…well, I certainly do love a challenge. We’ll need to stop by the store first. There are a few ingredients I require.”
Jayce shook his head, affection inflating like a balloon behind his ribs. “You already know the ingredients?”
“Of course,” Viktor scoffed, as if it were the simplest thing in the world. “You’re not the only fan of your mother’s baking.”
“Took us long enough to find everything!”
“Your mother was very specific on the brand and types of ingredients to use,” Viktor reasoned, opening the door as Jayce carried the food and groceries into the car’s trunk. “The devil’s in the details, as they say.”
It hadn’t really surprised Jayce to find that Viktor had gotten his mamá’s recipe—
But what stung was how…frequently they seemed to keep in contact.
Jayce knew that he had nothing to be bitter about—he always knew Viktor held a special place in his mamá’s heart—probably seeing him as the polite son who always showed up promptly and never gave her grief (outside of the various plateaus and valleys of Viktor’s health)that she never had.
No, Jayce expected it and was even a little glad for it. He just—
…He just wished Viktor put in the same effort for him.
Which was—
A dumb thing to even consider.
“We should go get dinner next,” Viktor offered. “That takeaway place from our university years is still open, you know.”
“I feel like I’ve done nothing but eat today,” Jayce muttered, but continued to do very little to change this fact, other than pathetically making cow eyes at his best friend for treating him so well. “...thanks, V.”
It was a dumb thing to consider, because here Viktor was, babying Jayce for all intents and purposes (making him his mamá’s pan de polvo of all things, while Jayce prattled on about his stalling career while avoiding the topic of his staled and spoiled marriage), spending precious vacation time with a clingy friend who only wanted to focus on the good ole days before his life hit the shitter.
It was a lot on Viktor, Jayce knew this,
Especially when he was being cordial and respectful despite never liking Mel.
“What for? You ate my fries and my shake,” Viktor reminded him with a smirk. “Look at me Jayce, I’m withering away as we speak.”
“Don’t even joke about that! Anymore and you’ll disappear completely!”
A part of Jayce wondered if there was something he missed, something he’d refused to see while his life was moving forward at breakneck speed. It might also have meant something that his own best friend pulled away, never tolerating too much time with him and with his girlfriend, turned fiancé, turned wife.
Now turned ex.
It must have meant something when Viktor, his best friend through the most amazing and most tragic years of his life, pulled away from Jayce the day after the wedding, sporadically answering calls and stalling between texts.
And it—
Hurt.
It did.
At the time, Jayce figured it had simply been Viktor providing him the time and space to focus on his marriage, moving out of state with Mel and jumpstarting his engineering career—
And yet that distance lingered between them more and more over the passing months, years—
That night, when he’d spiraled into a crash, when he’d picked up the phone to call Viktor,
A part of him wondered if Viktor would even pick up after all this time.
But he did. When he needed Viktor the most, he was there.
And Jayce was suddenly reminded of all the things he’s missed about him—their inside jokes, the way they read each other so easily, so effortlessly, the way Viktor anticipated just what Jayce needed to say and the way Jayce anticipated what Viktor needed to be done,
Jayce had missed this.
Or,
Maybe,
Cruelly,
Selfishly,
Jayce missed a thoroughly human connection, the easy, familiar, shared affection between two people, as he absentmindedly laced his finger’s with Viktors during the ride back from the grocery store,
Not really paying mind, to the way the hand in his felt different, larger, rougher, and colder than the hand he was used to, squeezing back with reassurance.
But still feeling right in the way that his heart was at ease, the way Jayce accepted the reciprocation as easily as breathing, as naturally as the steady heartbeat behind his ribs.
At least, until Viktor quite suddenly pulled his hand away, as if Jayce’s touch burned him, muttering a soft apology beneath his breath before continuing to ask if Jayce wanted the same order he always got— unwavering and unchanging after all this time.
And unwilling to name what had just occurred (not now, not yet, not when everything was in pieces), Jayce nodded, asking if they’d changed the recipe at all.
All the while Jayce kept his hand on the central console, fingertips tingling and numb, aching for that touch again.
Viktor’s apartment had changed over the years.
He remembered when it was barely a shell of a living space, kept tidy and neat and entirely devoid of proof that Viktor lived there, other than the familiar set of keys he kept on him, and the plethora of houseplants that Jayce only recognized as victims of Viktor’s black thumb. Back then, Jayce couldn’t fathom any living, breathing grad student capable of existing in such conditions.
Where was the chaos? The discord? The blood, sweat, tears, and alcohol-induced vomit stains?
Back then, Viktor had scoffed.
“I prefer to keep my home a sanctuary.”
Perhaps Jayce had been a poor influence on him then, seeing as Viktor’s coffee table was now littered with papers, documents, research he was responsible for peer review.
It had changed since then,
For the better, Jayce thinks.
Glimpses of Viktor’s life and his personality bled through the stark cream walls. Photos now dotted the empty spaces in-between. Viktor’s plants were now housed within colorful and decorative pots and ceramics. Some air plants were now hanging by the kitchen nook.
Viktor had even gotten a bigger sofa, and Jayce couldn’t help but wonder who carried it through the door. Maybe Viktor had a serviceperson come to deliver it and set it up. Jayce certainly wasn’t complaining as he noted it was large enough for him to stretch his legs and lounge.
Beneath it, there was a vibrant green rug—a splash of color that hadn’t belonged there before.
That change was—less welcome, in Jayce’s book.
“Apologies for the mess,” Viktor said, as if Jayce weren’t currently living out of a suitcase after his entire life fell to pieces, a likely larger mess than Viktor was ever capable of making.
“No, no! This is good—seeing you in your natural habitat.” Jayce stood there in the living room for a moment, taking in the odd display, the clash of colors against Viktor’s typical neutral tastes. He thought better of it, and simply plopped down onto the sofa, and noted the cushions had some give to them.
It was well-used.
“Very well,” Viktor chuckled. “Please, continue making yourself at home—”
“Will do!”
“While I prepare the pan de polvo.”
Viktor disappeared into the kitchen, having placed the takeout to occupy what little space there was left on the coffee table’s surface area. Jayce entertained the idea of turning on the TV, or flipping through videos on his phone, something mindless to distract himself while Viktor was busy,
But some anxiety had seeped back in, gnawing at the back of his thoughts, making him fidget in his seat, mind going in circles while Jayce stared off, unable to process any of it,
Where it had all gone wrong,
Where to go from here.
If he had to pick up where he’d left off from somewhere before Mel,
Or if he just moved forward from the broken and frayed edges.
“—ayce? Jayce?”
Jayce nearly dropped a pair of chopsticks on that ugly green rug. Regardless of how he felt about it (and why), Jayce was sure that Viktor wouldn’t appreciate him leaving stains on his furniture. “Yeah, sorry!” he muttered, attempting to muster up a smile as he turned towards Viktor’s voice in the kitchen. “Jetlagged, yanno? Zoned out for a second.”
The scent of cinnamon and anise hit his nose and Jayce felt some of that tension melt away. Coupled with Viktor’s familiar scent all over his apartment, Jayce felt the anxiety recede back into the avoidant part of his mind; the part that was all too happy for Jayce to surrender itself to indulgence and reminiscing.
Jayce took the greasy takeout container and pottered over to the kitchen nook, where Viktor was hard at work. Jayce nodded in appreciation at the impressive collection of gadgetry and tools Viktor had amassed in the space.
He remembered when the countertop had been rather barren, save for a kettle and a pot or two on the drying rack.
Viktor looked up, having removed the tea from the stove. “Are you feeling alright? Would you like to take a rest upstairs?”
Viktor was wearing an apron. And he looked damn adorable in it.
And Jayce had to muster up the vocabulary to tell him that no, going upstairs and being alone with his thoughts was the absolute last thing he wanted to do right now.
“Nah,” Jayce articulated instead. “Rather watch you work.”
Viktor shook his head. “You could at least make yourself useful.”
“I am an honored guest at your house!” Jayce gasped.
“Mhm,” Viktor placidly agreed. “And you could do the honors of putting a few sticks of cinnamon into the oven for me.”
“Fine, fine,” Jayce playfully groused. He plucked a few from a spice jar, noting their familiar scent. It really did bring back good memories. “How many do you want in there?”
Being around Viktor always did. “Two should be plenty for this amount,” he replied, beginning to work on the dough, sitting on a worn kitchen chair as he began to mix by hand. “Thank you, Jayce.”
And something about being in that cramped space together brought back memories of working through and problem solving together, turning down the ache of nostalgia while amplifying its sweetness.
Even if it was egging on his best friend to make his favorite childhood treat. “Any time, partner!”
Jayce heard a little huff of laughter and the tendrils around his heart slowly unfurled. Jayce missed this. He needed this. To Jayce, Viktor was the brother he never had, his partner and best friend, he’d laughed and told Mel that Viktor was his other half when he introduced them (though the joke never did land well).
But in many ways…it was true.
Viktor was there for him when no one else was. When he was at his lowest points and at his highest. And he could only hope that he was there for all of Viktor too.
Jayce dawdled in the kitchen, having long-finished his miniscule task, taking in the small frames that now dotted the walls. Jayce never really took Viktor for a sentimental person, but he was glad to be proven wrong on that.
There was so much of Viktor that ought to be cherished.
Jayce leaned in close to a familiar document, framed innocuously next to a cluster of recipes, modified with Viktor’s familiar handwriting on the edges.
Lab results.
Jayce’s breath caught, his voice locking up tightly. “Oh…I remember this one.”
Viktor glanced over his shoulder, only slowing in his mixing as he caught sight of what captivated Jayce’s attention. “Mhm,” he hummed, pouring small portions of tea into the batter to mix. “Big day. I keep it there, next to the other things I ought to remember.”
Jayce nodded, keeping silent, if only to avoid the emotion locked in his throat, strangling his voice. He continued to stare at the results. Staring at the singular word trailing after the alphabet soup of numbers and letters.
Undetected.
“I think I cried more than you did,” Jayce said, barely above a whisper.
In the beginning, Viktor hadn’t told him his diagnosis right away.
Jayce remembered that and on top of the fear and guilt,
There was anger too. Disappointment, maybe. But mostly questions.
Why hadn’t Viktor told him? Why hadn’t Jayce been among the first people to know of Viktor’s cancer diagnosis? Jayce knew it was selfish, but it tore him up terribly when his own best friend had suddenly withdrawn from him, had started showing up to their labs late, and disappeared for days at a time without a word.
It wasn’t until Viktor’s hospitalization that the truth came out.
And Jayce was right. He was positive he’d shed more tears than Viktor that night. And every night after that.
Taking care of Viktor had been a priority of his for years following. He was present for every oncology visit when he could, insisting, begging to come. He had begged Viktor to consider every option and constantly researched and consulted for second opinions. Jayce was sure he was a nightmare to deal with,
But he’d do it all over again to get Viktor the best chances. When Viktor was hesitant for even a second, Jayce begged him to continue, supporting and encouraging him when the treatment came with attached adverse effects as debilitating and poisonous as the disease slowly taking him.
Even then, Jayce pleaded and reminded Viktor to endure it, that he could do this, that his life was worth fighting every inch, tooth and nail, for.
Jayce offered to shave his head in solidarity until Viktor, in all his graciousness, told him he didn’t have the head shape for it.
Jayce wore hats for a year (in solidarity) until Viktor’s hair grew back.
Finally,
Finally, they’d reached remission.
Clinic visits became survivorship clinics where Jayce continued his active roles.
Even now, Jayce still made sure to ask every few months when it came time for Viktor’s checkups.
Viktor had a smile in his voice. “That’s very possible.” Even with his back turned, Jayce knew it immediately. “You’re an emotional man.”
“Hey!” he sputtered. Jayce knew that this was true, regardless.
He’d been the one to frame the remission results.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Viktor reassured, rolling out the dough. Jayce watched as Viktor worked it flat with a rolling pin, sprinkling flour to keep the dough from sticking. “You have a big heart, Jayce. You care…so much. For other people.”
Jayce fought back the urge to take the rolling pin and offer to do it for him, to let Viktor relax and take a breather, to rest his leg and his back and get him out of that awkward, stiff position, rolling dough from his seat. After all, Viktor had been the one caring for Jayce all this time. “Of course. You’re my best friend, Viktor.” Talks and reminders of those years always made Jayce more anxious, and admittedly, a little protective of Viktor. Because no matter how much time passed between them—no matter how many connecting flights it would take, Jayce would always find a way back to him.
“I know, Jayce,” Viktor said, voice quiet, as if the weight of his words would bend from the emotion he was holding back. “You’re mine as well.”
Or maybe being an emotional mess just made Jayce read into things too deeply.
It was witchcraft.
It had to be. “All right. I gotta hand it to ya, V.” Jayce immediately grabbed 3 more cookies and wondered if he lost any decorum in Viktor’s eyes if he immediately shoved them into his mouth. “These are…somehow better than how mamá makes them.”
Viktor scoffed, eating the takeout lukewarm despite Jayce’s balking and immediate offering to heat up his rice. “Saying that out loud, your mother will put you into an early grave if she ever hears you.”
Jayce figured Viktor’s already seen him at his absolute lowest, currently in his apartment, making a mess out of the clean sofa by leaving crumbs and a tiny soy sauce stain on the corner of the couch that Viktor swore he had an old recipe to get it out. How many more points would Jayce lose by threatening his best friend while his cheeks were stuffed with sugar and cinnamon? “She’ll take you down with me once she learns you altered her recipe.”
Viktor grimaced, having unsuccessfully hidden the recipe (written by his mother’s hand no less!) with Viktor’s neat and color coordinated notes on the sides. Unfortunately, Jayce was still far more irritatingly advantaged in the height department, snatching it before Viktor could claw it out of his hands. “Not a word to your mother then?”
“Not one,” Jayce promised, barely able to keep an admittedly obscene moan from slipping out of his mouth as he grabbed more pan de polvo. “As long as you don’t tell her I said yours tasted better.”
The agreement was immediate. “Deal.” Both parties shaking their hand on the successful transaction.Jayce immediately using it to his advantage to pull Viktor close, miraculously avoiding an umami-flavored disaster all over Viktor’s living room floor and that ugly green rug. “I missed this, you know?” Jayce admitted that he was a rather…physical person. Especially when it came to people he was close with. “I really missed you, V.”
Especially when it came to Viktor.
Viktor’s body surrendered to the affection, the bone-creaking embrace that he should have seen coming a mile away. “I…I missed you too, Jayce,” he murmured, leaning his head against Jayce’s shoulder. Jayce fought back the urge, the instinct, to bury his face into Viktor’s neck. “I…wish we caught up under…” his voice trailed off. “Better circumstances.”
“Yeah…” Jayce murmured before realizing quite belatedly that he was definitely holding Viktor for way longer than physically, emotionally necessary, straightening his posture before pulling away—but still holding on to Viktor’s rather thin shoulders with both hands. “Well, you never need to be a stranger, yanno?” Jayce joked, hoping that his smile stayed steady enough, not ready to slip off his face and plop right on the floor at a moment’s notice. “No need to wait for life-altering disasters to pick up the phone and tell me how you’re doing.”
Viktor nodded, seeming to search for the right words to say. “About…about that, Jayce, I—”
And that terrified Jayce more than anything. “You seem to be doing great for yourself, Vik,” he encouraged, trying to keep his voice at an even tempo, an appropriate volume. “I was worried, you know? When you eventually stopped responding to my messages. I thought…I had made you angry somehow. Or if, you know, you got into an argument with Mel—”
Viktor startled, jumping back and away from Jayce’s touch. “Neudělal jsi nic—ona taky ne—” Viktor spoke rapidly, slipping back into his mother tongue, a language that Jayce would have loved to hear more often if it didn’t mean trading his understanding of Viktor. Viktor shook his head, slipping back to perfectly practiced English. “Nothing of the sort happened, Jayce. I think it was,” a moment’s hesitation. His eyes darted away. “Personally difficult for me to keep in contact.”
It was a nonanswer. They both knew that. Viktor’s absence carved a hole in Jayce’s heart and it was cruel not to hear why. But Jayce supposed that right now, it didn’t matter. They both had things they were working through—Viktor respected his silence, and right now, for now, Jayce could do the same for him. “Well…don’t do it again, you hear?” he laughed, the pitch just a tad off.
(Jayce knew Viktor noticed.
Of course he did.
Just as he noticed the guilt plaguing him behind those amber eyes.)
“You’re my best friend,” Jayce croaked out, suddenly, frighteningly, realizing that Viktor has been, and always been far more than that. “And I don’t wanna have to go through that again.”
“Of course,” Viktor said, as if it was so simple. Of course, as simple and natural as breathing, a fact of life, as logical and as grounded and rooted without question, without objection,
As if messy, human things like relationships could be as unfailing and infallible as the laws of physics.
“Thank you, Viktor. For. Everything,” Jayce said, as if it could encapsulate, envelope, and encase everything between them, everything that led Jayce to this moment, heart in his throat, ribs threatening to bow from the enormity of the realization he kept caged right beside his frantically beating heart.
Newton’s Third Law of Motion states that
“Jayce…there’s something I should tell you,” Viktor said, voice trailing off to something like a whisper. “Something I should have told you…a very long time ago. I just. Didn’t know when or h-how—”
Ice-cold panic seized Jayce’s thoughts first, a recurring nightmare creeping over the worst of his realities. “V-Viktor, is it about the—”
For every action,
Viktor knew, knew immediately, and that—in many, many treacherous ways—gave Jayce reassurance. That Viktor still knew him. Still understood him best out of anyone. Everyone. “No, no, I’m healthy. Well, as healthy as I can be,” he amended with a self-deprecating chuckle that Jayce loathed. “That’s not it, Jayce.”
There is an equal
“Y-Yeah?” Something damning seeded in Jayce’s heart. Or maybe it had always been there, peeking beneath the surface while its roots grew deep and wild within every chamber.
Maybe it was anticipation. Maybe, unfathomably,
It was hope.
“I’m glad it’s not that, but what is it, Viktor?” he asked, begged, pleaded. “Viktor, you can tell me anything, you know I’d never—” Push you away, never allow a single thing to change what was fundamental, what was core to us: “You’d never lose me. No matter what.”
and opposite—
“I know, Jayce,” Viktor said, voice strangled with emotion. Something tortured, terrified, yet utterly euphoric. “I just…it’s all just bad timing, I suppose.”
Jayce felt his heart stop, time creeping to a halt as feathered, fervent hope,
—reaction.
Immediately came crashing down.
“I’m getting married.”