Chapter Text
Viktor feels it coming before he can think of reacting — a split second lash of movement on his right side immediately followed by mind tearing agony so intense he almost blacks out. His vision tunnels as he struggles to make out what struck him.
His lungs burn as he thrashes in the water. Dimly, he sees a silver hook embedded deep into the flesh of his tail. There’s a deep gash on the bottom right of his tail, the surrounding area a mess of jagged, torn scales. Dark blood is seeping out from the wound and into the open water around him.
His tail is a hellhole of pain, throbbing and burning. It hurts to remain in control of his body. Viktor thinks hazily that maybe he should try his luck with what he already knows — swim back to the undercity trenches and seek the chembaron sirens.
Beg for medical treatment in exchange for what ? What few possessions he has left or offer whatever years he has left of his life in servitude for the barons? He left behind that life for a reason.
Or Viktor could take his chances with the humans above surface. On good days when he had enough energy to transform his tail for a pair of legs, he would spend entire afternoons observing the humans, weaving in and out of the crowds that gathered along the shoreline.
Viktor thinks that he’s picked up enough human language that he could pass as human for a few days and get help. But the risk of blowing his cover through a casual slip of the tongue or in appearance and risking discovery is too great — the thought of those lingering human eyes on him, picking apart every inch of his body with scientific relish makes him shudder.
Well, there are fates worse than death, and Viktor would consider a life spent in captivity one of them.
In the end, it’s the ocean that makes his choice for him. His consciousness slips away along with control of his body, and Viktor feels himself being cradled and ferried away by the current.
Viktor’s consciousness comes back to him in stages. He’s lying on something gritty, like little pinpricks that burn and scratch against his tail and skin as he breathes. They’re grains of beach sand , he realizes with dawning horror, the sensation unmistakable. He’s above surface .
Then, the pain of his injury hits him so abruptly he groans, the pain so insistent it drives him half out of his mind. The memory of bleeding out in the water comes back to him. Viktor forces his eyes open.
It’s the middle of the night, the sky a clear midnight black. The crescent moon provides a faint source of light as he strains his neck to look at his tail. What was once a steady flow of blood has turned into a small stream of blood oozing out from the wound onto the sand. In his thrashing, he must have dislodged the hook in his tail.
Viktor can make out the jagged silhouette of his slashed scales and the raw, pink flesh underneath. His injury is far worse than he initially thought. His mind reels with dread, his ears starting to ring. This can’t be how it ends for him, it can’t.
Distantly, Viktor registers the sound of human footsteps — heavy, fast, and heading towards him . He can only watch in mute horror as a shadow falls above him and a human face comes into his field of vision.
How he didn’t notice the human approaching him earlier, Viktor has no idea. But it’s alright. If Viktor can transform his tail away and adapt a pair of legs in time, he can play this off as some kind of trick of the light.
Viktor attempts to shift. He’s desperate, grasping for whatever pitiful energy he has left in him to shapeshift in time. His heartbeat thuds in his ears.
Nothing happens. It’s futile. He has lost too much of his strength to string together coherent thoughts, let alone think of shifting right now.
The human’s eyes are wide in shock. His gaze flickers down to look at Viktor’s tail and then up again to Viktor’s face, taking in his pointed ears and gills lining his neck.
Viktor knows that the game is up.
Sure, he’s no stranger to humans, but spending time blending into their midst with a hood over his head and a pair of legs on him is palpably different from the situation he has found himself in.
The human is a man, tall, his shoulders broad and his arms built. He’s breathing heavily, panting for breath as if he ran all the way here to get to Viktor.
He towers over Viktor, wide chest expanding and contracting as he catches his breath. Viktor thinks that this is the closest that he’s ever gotten to a human, and he… he’s lying on the sand, utterly helpless.
Viktor’s so fucked that he could laugh.
“You’re hurt. Please, let me help you.” The human’s voice is deep, raspy.
Viktor’s heartbeat jackhammers in his chest. He can’t get oxygen quickly enough into his overworked lungs. His eyes water, in part from pain and in part from fear.
“Please, you’re bleeding. I can help.” The human moves one step closer.
Viktor pushes at the ground with his hands, trying to inch backwards, only to be met with a fresh wave of agony when the sand scrapes against his wound.
“Fuck, you’re scared, aren’t you? I won’t hurt you, I promise.”
As if Viktor would be stupid enough to believe anything the human says. He has seen what humans are capable of out there on the open sea. The amount of senseless violence and destruction with barely any effort by the humans.
Viktor may be many things – temperamental or idealistic, sure – but he’s not delusional. It doesn’t take a genius to understand that he doesn’t stand a chance here, not against the human who has every advantage on land. Viktor swallows and steels his resolve.
“Fine, I’ll go with you,” Viktor grits out. “But no hospitals, no doctors.”
Resisting wouldn’t be worth dying, but so damn him if he won’t try to negotiate his awaiting torment. The human is at least offering to help him with his injury. Viktor just has to endure whatever the human has planned for him until he regains his energy and heals enough to fight his way out.
Viktor just has to live goddamnit.
“Thank you,” the human breathes out, his golden eyes crinkling at the corners. He looks relieved, for what reason Viktor doesn’t know. Maybe because he’s agreeing to go without a struggle like an obedient pet.
“My place is only ten minutes away. I can carry you there.”
The last thing Viktor wants is the human to get even closer to him. Not that he has much choice in his fate anymore, anyway. He’s already metaphorically swam into the shark’s den and is now staring down the shark’s mouth.
“Very well.” Viktor watches the human crouches down and lets the human’s muscled arms wrap around his torso to lift him up, intending not to put up a fight.
The moment he’s up in the air, supported only by the human’s strength, Viktor's heart plummets into his stomach and he whimpers. Oh god oh god what has he done. The sensation of being airborne is the complete opposite of being in the water or feeling solid ground beneath his body.
Viktor clenches his eyes shut, refusing to watch the ground tilt for a second longer. He wants to sob and curl up into a little ball where no one can see him.
“Shh, it’s ok, you’re ok,” the human whispers. His arms work to maneuver Viktor’s tail into a comfortable position to carry him in, making sure not to aggravate his wound, until Viktor is cradled across the human’s chest.
The human’s hands are alarmingly large against Viktor’s thin body. His hands resting on the sides of Viktor’s waist are like twin furnaces, Viktor marvels, whether in awe or horror he doesn’t know. The first time Viktor had ventured out onto land as a child, the sheer warmth of the sunlight on his skin amazed him, nothing at all like the constant chill of the ocean.
The heat of the human’s hands puts the warmth of sunlight to shame tenfold, Viktor thinks.
“Oh, I never even asked for your name,” the human says. “I’m Jayce.”
Viktor doesn’t understand why Jayce is bothering to learn the name of the merman that he’s carrying off to his home, wonders what the benefit of learning Viktor’s name would be when Jayce already has him secured in his arms and unable to escape.
But now the human’s name is one less mystery, one less unknown for Viktor, and for that he’s glad.
Viktor does not give Jayce the name he uses in the sea — a series of clicks and whistles that he can’t ever imagine the human being able to produce. He’ll be damned if he gives away perhaps the only token of home he can carry with him, anyway.
But the name he uses on land... that he can do. It would be nice, Viktor thinks, to be called something familiar rather than the creature the human no doubt thinks he is.
“It’s Viktor.”
The walk back to Jayce’s home is a silent, terse affair. Jayce walks at a brisk speed, yet Viktor feels nothing but steadiness while being carried by the human. It’s clear that he’s taking immense care not to jostle Viktor despite his rush to reach his destination.
Viktor loses himself to the rhythmic cadence of Jayce’s steps — anything to keep his mind from thinking about what horror awaits him when they arrive. He is well aware of how humans react when presented with an unknown, ingenious in the worst way and violent to the extreme.
All mers are taught from a young age to stay far away from the metal human contraptions that prowl the seas and leave trails of destruction in their wake, just a small demonstration of what humans are capable of.
And well, being something that Viktor knows only exists within human storybooks, Viktor isn’t optimistic that Jayce solely intends to help him.
Jayce, for the most part, offers nothing to break the silence except for a few brief comments: “Just a few more streets” and then a few moments later, “We’re almost there.” Only the sound of his heavy breathing in tune with his steps fills the air.
Jayce comes to a stop in front of a building. In the dark, there are no details for Viktor to make out, save for the general outline of the structure. It looks like the mouth of an underwater cave, Viktor thinks, menacing and engulfing in its scale.
This is by far the furthest inland that Viktor has gone, and everything feels like uncharted waters.
Jayce fumbles for something in his pants pocket, balancing Viktor in one arm. He fishes out a set of keys, thumbing them for the right one before inserting it into the door lock. When the lock clicks, he makes a small sound of triumph that under any other circumstance, Viktor would laugh at the idiocy of.
As Jayce walks through the doorway, the door automatically closes behind them. Jayce uses his free arm to fasten the lock, and Viktor can’t help it as his breathing hitches.
All at once, he feels like he’s been plunged in freezing water, unable to move a muscle. It’s only him and Jayce in the human’s home. Fuck, fuck, his fate is sealed.
“Where do you want me?” Viktor hears himself ask, his voice hoarse and muffled in his own ears.
“The bathtub for now. We need to sterilize your wound and get it wrapped,” Jayce says as he carries him to a sea glass green tiled room. He crouches down and lowers Viktor down into a white tub with edges that go up to Jayce’s knees.
He lets go of Viktor’s tail last, gently positioning it on the edge of the tub, where his tail dangles. “Is this position alright for you?”
Viktor hums blankly.
Jayce stands back up, turning his back to Viktor to step out of the room. “I need to get supplies, I’ll be back in a minute.”
Alone, Viktor wonders if this is his new enclosure. The sterile white walls of the bathtub surround him on all four sides. Whatever material the bathtub is made of, It’s cold, almost unbearably so. The grit of the residual sand on his body digs into his backside, and his tail throbs. The chilling numbness inside Viktor’s heart spreads.
Viktor distantly feels his body curl into itself as the ringing in his ears grows louder and his vision blurs. He blinks, sluggish, trying to keep his eyes open.
“Viktor, are you – Viktor, you’re shaking. ”
At the sound of his name, Viktor stirs. Jayce sounds concerned — why?
Viktor forces his eyes open to see Jayce’s face hovering close, inches from his. Jayce’s eyebrows are drawn together, tense. Oh, when had the human come back?
Jayce’s words register in Viktor’s mind. No, that can’t be right. He feels calm, his head fuzzy and floaty. He looks down at his hands. They’re pale, turning light gray in color and trembling. Are those his hands?
“Shit, shit, I’m sorry Viktor. You must have been so cold.” Jayce scrambles for the handle at the front of the bathtub, turning it to the left. Viktor can’t help but flinch when he sees Jayce’s arm reaching out towards his face. “Hold on just a second, I got you, I got you.”
To Viktor’s surprise, a steady stream of water flows out from the faucet and into the tub. The water is warm , far warmer than the ocean even in the mid afternoon, but it’s not uncomfortable. The soothing heat of the water pooling around him pulls him back into his own body.
“I’m going to touch you again,” Jayce warns as he moves a hand to Viktor’s shoulder. “Good, you’re warming up.” Jayce bends down to run his hand through the water flowing from the faucet. He fidgets with the handle with his other hand until he seems to be satisfied with the temperature of the water coming out. “How’s the temperature? Do you need it colder, hotter?”
How bizarre, Viktor thinks. He’s been taken at his weakest into the home of a human, yet he’s only been treated with kindness and hasn’t been hurt once. This is the most cared for he’s felt in years.
“A little hotter.”
“Of course.” Jayce adjusts the handle to the right. The water flowing out rises in temperature. Viktor sighs, his muscles loosening after being tense for so long.
On the counter next to the bathtub is a pile of supplies that Jayce must have brought back: some cloth rags, a roll of bandages, and a bar of soap. Jayce takes a washcloth in one hand, wets it under the running water, and soaps it up. He kneels down to Viktor’s level.
Jayce catches Viktor’s eyes as he brings the washcloth against Viktor’s tail resting on the edge of the tub. “Alright?”
Viktor should feel alarmed with Jayce’s hands so close to his tail. With him in this state, there’s nothing stopping Jayce from reaching out and taking. A single well placed hit would be all it takes to permanently cripple him. A single scale pried off would be all it takes to break his fragile trust in Jayce.
Viktor nods once.
Jayce runs the cloth over the area of the wound, back and forth. With each pass of the cloth, he rinses away leftover sand and dried blood caked on Viktor’s tail. The water turns a muddier brown each time Jayce wrings the washcloth out and wets it again with fresh water.
Viktor grits his teeth. The direct touch to his injury aggravates it, the pain returning anew. It burns like the worst jellyfish sting. He tastes the tangy copper of blood in his mouth.
“It hurts, I know. I’m sorry, Viktor,” Jayce says. Dull purple scales flake off from Viktor’s tail as the washcloth catches on the jagged edges of the wound.
Viktor tries to breathe in for four counts and exhale for four, but it barely helps with the pain.
To his credit, Jayce is attentive with his care, never dragging the washcloth over Viktor’s tail with too much force. He stops to check in on Viktor whenever his breath hitches in pain, and his hands never stray or tighten on Viktor’s tail.
Under the overhead light, Viktor can make out the details of his injury that he couldn’t see outside in the dark.
The wound is hard to look at. Deep indentations run over the side of his tail, cutting deep into the flesh. The edges of the gashes are raised with inflamed welts on the side.
Then, Viktor turns his sight down to his tail fin, and he sees the true extent of the damage. His right tail fin is tattered, slashed to ribbons. There’s a large portion of it simply missing.
Oh.
Viktor’s thoughts stop working. He leans back against the wall of the tub, unable to hold himself up. Wake me up, Viktor wants to beg.
So this is his end.
It’s a simple truth, really, one that Viktor can’t run from anymore. There’s no recovering from this. There is no after for him. How could there be, when he’ll never be able to swim properly again?
It never ends well for mers that sustain tail fin injuries to this degree. Viktor can count on one hand the number of mers he’s seen with fins as damaged as his. They either die, too weak to fend for themselves, or become work slaves for the chembarons for meager protection.
It’s unfair, Viktor thinks through the roar of static building up in his head.
So infuriatingly unfair to have any semblance of choice ripped from him. Why him? Wasn’t it enough to have been born with weak lungs?
Choice. It felt like his choice accepting Jayce’s offer for help. It felt like his choice when he held on to the hope of returning home once more. It felt like his choice when he gave his name to Jayce.
But this, this is damnation.
His throat constricts. His eyes burn as he tries to hold back his tears. He doesn’t want to cry in front of Jayce, doesn’t want to make himself seem even weaker, if that were possible.
He drags his gaze back up to Jayce to see him looking at him, face unreadable. Jayce averts his eyes, guilty to have been caught staring. “I’m sorry, Viktor.”
Viktor can’t speak, choked up. Can’t respond with how it’s none of Jayce’s fault and yet simultaneously entirely his fault for giving him hope. His vision blurs. And then the tears break through, unable to be held in any longer.
Viktor sobs, his chest heaving as he tries to muffle his crying. He wrenches his hands towards his face to cover his eyes, refusing to let Jayce look at him for a moment longer.
He hears Jayce make a pained noise before he feels himself being enveloped in the warmth of Jayce’s arms. Jayce slots his shoulder against Viktor’s head, letting him cry into his neck.
“It’ll be ok. You’re going to make it through. You’ve been so strong already,” Jayce says. He rubs his hands in circles against Viktor’s back. Strong, him?
Viktor sniffles against Jayce’s skin, trying to pull back when he sees the mess of tears and snot that he’s leaving behind. Fuck, he’s so pathetic like this.
He holds his breath to force himself to stop crying, but the sobs continue to tear through his body, unrelenting. He half expects Jayce to pull away and demand he stop his stupid tantrum at any second, but the arms around him only tighten even more.
Jayce moves a free hand to cup the back of Viktor’s head while he wheezes and coughs from the exertion on his lungs. “Breathe, Viktor. I’m here, I promise. I’m here.”
And well, how could Viktor argue against that? He might be injured, stranded in a human’s bathtub, but Jayce is here. Jayce is here hugging Viktor to create a cocoon of comfort for him as he cries.
Despite his human-ness, there’s something so fundamentally comforting about Jayce that makes Viktor want to believe him. Jayce, who has been endlessly kind from the moment Viktor woke up after washing up ashore. The longer Viktor spends in his presence, the more his instinctual fear of the human melts away against his will.
Viktor moves his hands from his lap to wrap around Jayce’s back, tentatively returning the hug. They stay like that, Viktor trying to recover control of his breathing, until his heart rate slows down.
It takes a while for Viktor’s sobs to stop, but Jayce never loosens his hold until Viktor moves away first.
Jayce takes a new washcloth and wets it, using it to wipe Viktor’s dried tears off his cheeks. “Jayce – ” Viktor starts to apologize, but Jayce shushes him, shaking his head. “We’ll figure this out together. Just focus on healing.”
Viktor wants to protest. How dare Jayce make it seem that simple?
But thinking about his tail only makes the mass of emotion in his chest swell dangerously, so he doesn’t. With the adrenaline leaving his system, all that remains is a bone deep exhaustion that engulfs him.
He doesn't want to think anymore, doesn’t want to feel anymore.
If Jayce lets him, he could fall asleep here in a matter of seconds. He wonders what comes next for him. Will Jayce leave him alone to rest in the bathtub or will Jayce take him somewhere else more closed off?
He doesn’t think that Jayce is cruel enough to keep him locked away in a room, but the thought alone is unsettling.
“Just gotta wrap your tail and then you can rest, Viktor.” Jayce takes a fluffy towel out from the rack next to the bathtub and pats Viktor’s tail dry first. He leans over a little further to reach Viktor’s back, running the towel over his shoulder blades to the small of his back.
“Arms,” Jayce says. Viktor lifts his arms, letting Jayce run the towel over his arms. Jayce thanks him, and oh there’s that fluttering feeling in the middle of his chest again.
Jayce picks up the roll of bandages on the counter. “Tell me if anything’s too tight?” He grasps Viktor’s tail, maneuvering the bandages to wrap around the wound. Even with Jayce’s hands so close to his wound again, Viktor struggles to keep awake.
Viktor drifts off for what seems like only a second. “Viktor?” He jolts awake to the sound of Jayce coming into the room again. His wound is neatly wrapped, and Jayce is standing beside the edge of the tub.
“C’mon Viktor, I got the bed set up for you. You can rest as much as you want in my room, okay?”
Viktor’s confused. The bed in Jayce’s room? He had expected Jayce to clear out some room for him in one of his spare rooms, or confine him to the tub at worst. But Jayce’s bed?
In mer culture, sleeping quarters are considered intensely personal, their location to be shared with only those you’d trust with your life. That’s Jayce’s safe space, and now he’s offering it up to Viktor.
Jayce cuts into the silence. “You’re not gonna dry out on me if we move you out of the tub, right Viktor?”
Viktor barely holds in a snort at the lunacy of the idea.
“Because I can bring you blankets and pillows here, Viktor. Seriously.”
“No, Jayce, I’m not a fish,” Viktor says, putting an end to Jayce’s panic.
Jayce sighs in relief. “Oh, thank goodness. I was worried I’d offended you somehow.” Viktor can’t help but give a short laugh at that. Him, offended by Jayce’s concern?
“Come on Viktor, I can carry you there.” Jayce bends down, letting Viktor swing his hands over his neck for extra stability as Jayce picks him up in his arms. Viktor leans his side against Jayce’s solid chest.
It’s the second time he’s found himself carried in a human’s arms today.
Jayce’s room is dimly lit. There’s a nightstand in the corner with a short lamp casting a warm glow on the room. Viktor notices a leather bound journal on the nightstand, its spine creased and well used. There are potted plants by the window and prints of ocean landscapes on the walls.
Viktor has only seen pictures of human bedrooms through the pages of a book, but Jayce’s room looks well lived in.
In the middle of the room is Jayce’s bed, its width as long as Viktor’s height. The sheets are folded, and the covers already neatly made. There’s a space in the middle of the bed, the covers folded over to make room for someone to get under them.
It isn’t until Jayce lowers him onto the soft bedding that Viktor realizes that the space is for him.
Mers don’t sleep in beds. As solitary creatures, they sleep alone, usually in the pockets of underwater caves to keep them from attackers while in their most vulnerable state.
The sensation of sheets against Viktor’s back and a pillow underneath his head is new. Viktor feels awkward lying flat on the bed, laid out under Jayce’s careful gaze.
“It’s cold in the winter. I usually sleep with two blankets,” Jayce says. He pulls the covers over Viktor until they rest against his neck. Viktor doesn’t want to point out that he can keep his body warm just fine in the ocean, and so two blankets are probably excessive, but he stays silent.
“Let me know if you want another blanket.” Jayce shuts the lamp off, and a little night light glows in the corner by the bed. “Sleep well, Viktor.” he says before he turns his back and walks out of the room.
Wait, is Jayce leaving? Jayce moves to shut the door behind him, and Viktor can’t help the sudden unease that fills him from the thought of being in this unfamiliar room alone.
“Wait, you’re going?” The bed is all too large, like it could swallow him whole.
“Oh, I was going to let you rest alone, Viktor. Why? Do you want anything?”
Viktor doesn’t know what he wants. He wants many things. He wants to go home , but he can’t. He wants to have his tail back again, but he can’t.
And perhaps most surprising, he should want to be as far away from the human, from Jayce, as possible. But he doesn’t.
If you asked him a day before, Viktor would have considered being helpless at the mercy of a human in his mer form one of his worst nightmares. But now that he’s here in the reality of it, he’s not sure what to make of it.
In the aftermath of his injury, a part of him remembers drifting in the water, mindless with pain, and so terribly alone. He remembers blacking out, no one to comfort him through the disorientation and vertigo of bleeding out in the expanse of the ocean.
Viktor doesn’t want to be alone like that again. “Stay, please?”
“Oh, Viktor,” Jayce murmurs. “Are you sure? I don’t want to bother your rest.”
There’s an irony in Jayce worrying about bothering him when Jayce has only comforted Viktor so far.
“Yes,” Viktor says. “Please.” He doesn’t know exactly what he’s asking for, but he knows it means that Jayce will come back, and then maybe the lonely desperation gnawing at his chest will subside.
Jayce looks touched. In the nightlight's glow, Viktor can make out his eyes crinkling at the corners.
Jayce walks closer and closer to the foot of the bed until all of a sudden, he’s right there , crawling into the space under the covers and lying down beside Viktor. Jayce fusses over the blankets, making sure Viktor is still fully covered even with the both of them sharing the blankets.
This close to Jayce, Viktor can make out the stubble on his chin and the divots on his skin. The natural warmth of Jayce’s body spreads and swells through the tight space they share under the covers, like a tidal wave.
The covers move up and down with Jayce’s breathing. It’s new, being so close to someone that Viktor can feel their every inhale and exhale. But it doesn’t feel wrong.
Jayce turns over to lie on his side to look at Viktor. “Rest now. You can sleep as long as you want.”
Viktor closes his eyes. The pressure of the soft blankets over him is like a reassuring embrace.
“It’s ok. I’ll be here to watch over you,” Jayce whispers.
Viktor wakes up once during the night. He has rolled onto his side in his sleep, probably to reduce the strain on his back. The first rays of the sun are streaming through the window. From his position, he can see the red and orange hues of clouds drift through the sky.
Sunrise, then. The part of him that expected to die in the ocean is surprised he gets to see the sunrise yet another time.
The sheets have somehow fallen off of him in his sleep, but he’s not cold. There’s a warm weight pressed to his back, radiating heat like a hydrothermal vent. Viktor turns to see Jayce clinging on to his backside, his arms wrapped around Viktor’s side.
Jayce’s eyes are closed, his expression peaceful in sleep. He’s grabbed all the sheets for himself, clutching them against his arms and chest. His legs are slotted against the back of Viktor’s tail.
Viktor shifts his position, trying to extract himself from Jayce’s hold, but Jayce whines softly in his sleep and tugs Viktor closer to him again.
What the hell, sure, Viktor thinks. So Jayce sleeps like a clingy dolphin, but it’s not exactly like Viktor has a frame of reference for how humans sleep to say this is strange.
Jayce hums in contentment when Viktor slots himself back into Jayce’s hold. Viktor's injury aches dully and his head feels heavy.
Viktor drifts off into sleep again.
Viktor wakes up to bright sunlight streaming through the window and into his face. The sound of birds outside is so different from the screeching of gulls along the oceanside he’s used to. The sky is a brilliant shade of blue, cloudless. He shields his eyes from the glare, blearily looking around the room.
It’s midday, from the intensity of the sun. It is unlike Viktor to sleep for so long, yet his sleep felt like the blink of an eye, timeless and devoid of dreams. Viktor ignores the prickle of unease in the back of his head at the thought of lying asleep, vulnerable, while Jayce has easy access to his body.
Jayce is gone from the other side of the bed. The room is silent without the sound of Jayce’s breathing. The blankets are piled over him once more. Jayce must have rearranged the blankets to cover him again after he woke up. The warm tickling sensation in his chest returns.
His entire body is sore. His mouth is dry and there’s a dull pain gnawing at his head, but nothing beats the insistent ache in his tail. Everything slowly trickles back into his brain. The injury, his tail, his tears.
“You’ve been so strong already,” Jayce had said to him in the tub. But Viktor feels the complete opposite of strong right now. It’s the morning of a new day, and he feels small, uncertain. How many more mornings does he even have left in him?
The sheets glide over his skin as he moves to sit up in the bed. He hesitates to pull the covers off. With his tail covered, it’s so easy for Viktor to pretend like the events of the previous day were a particularly bad dream.
He pulls the covers off. He sees his own bandaged tail, the fin as irreparable as it looked yesterday. As if he should have expected anything else, Viktor thinks bitterly.
After resting, Viktor feels a little more rational, his thoughts clearer.
He doesn’t know what to do. This is just another setback, he tells himself. No more different from having his parents torn away from him when he was ten, or the looks of pity he would receive for his weak lungs throughout his childhood.
But this is different. It’s his tail, and he’s not a naive child anymore. All Viktor has ever known in life is how to keep on moving, one day at a time. Even when nothing was expected of him, other than an early death.
After all these years, he’s tired of fighting to reach the same level as everybody else.
Alone in Jayce’s room, Viktor wonders if he has enough energy in him to shift his form now. It would certainly make it easier to get out of this bed, at the very least.
While mer-folk can switch forms at will between their tail and a pair of legs, injuries transfer between forms.
Viktor closes his eyes, concentrating. When he opens his eyes again, his vision blurs at the edges from strain and the shift taking effect.
His legs are gaunt, thin like they’ve always been. His right ankle is covered with a bruise the size of his palm, purple and yellow at the edges. Of course, that cannot be it. Bruises can heal, his tail fin won’t.
Against his better judgement, he tries to step on the floor. His right knee almost gives out in pain, his ankle twisting dangerously. He yells and crumples back on the bed, panting.
The closed door bursts open. Jayce crashes in. “Viktor, you’re awake.”
There’s a pause of silence. Jayce stares at Viktor’s legs, splayed out.
Viktor stares back, caught.
“Oh. Oh. ” Jayce comes a step closer. “Does it hurt much?”
“Not any more than it did yesterday,” Viktor grits out. The weight of Jayce’s eyes lingering on his bruised ankle is heavy. “I was simply,” he winces. “Trying something.”
Jayce takes it in stride, at least not questioning Viktor for now. “You must be hungry. I made something for you.”
Now that Viktor thinks about it, he hasn’t eaten for what must have been more than a day, too preoccupied with everything else to think about hunger. He’s ravenous. “Yes, I am,” he says.
“Great, can I take you to the dining room or do you wanna stay in here?” Jayce asks.
On one hand, Viktor doesn’t think that he can get up without Jayce’s help, and he’s already asked so much of Jayce. On the other hand, Viktor would like to see the rest of Jayce’s house, for curiosity’s sake.
“Dining room, please?” Viktor starts to get up again, but Jayce is at his side in an instant. Jayce leans down so Jayce can support him as they hobble out of the bedroom.
Viktor notes that to the left of Jayce’s room is the room with the bathtub. To the right is another room with the door halfway open. Through the door, he can catch a glimpse of wooden shelves filled entirely with books. His brain blanks for a second.
Never has he been so tempted to reach out and touch. He nearly begs Jayce to stop so he can look further into the room, but he doesn’t.
The dining room is only a short corridor away. It’s small. Smaller than Jayce’s room, but the space isn’t cramped. A wooden table sits in the middle of the room, a tablecloth draped over it that barely covers the table surface. Four chairs sit at each end of the table.
Jayce guides Viktor to a chair, helping him lower into it and sit down. It’s the chair closest to the entryway, Viktor can’t help but notice. It’s a little less scary being led into a new room knowing there’s nothing blocking him and the exit.
The entire room is bathed in natural light flowing in from two large windows. It’s weird sitting here in front of a table in a little box of four walls, like humans do.
Jayce walks back in carrying in a bowl of soup and sets it in front of Viktor. “I didn’t know what you like, but I figured fish should be a safe choice,” he says. “It’s sudado de pescado. Fish stew.”
Viktor’s not sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting this.
The hot bowl of stew is larger than both of Viktor’s hands laid side by side. There’s a fillet of fish on top of a layer of chopped tomatoes and onions, covered in a thick broth. The stew smells rich and enticing.
Jayce hands him a spoon. “We get a lot of fresh fish being so near the ocean, and well, I added in some clams and shrimp for you too.”
Viktor stares at the garnish of parsley sprinkled onto the soup and the way the fillet of fish is already cut into pieces for him. Jayce cooked this entire dish, for him?
Viktor can’t remember the last time he’s had such a large meal.
In the ocean, eating has always been an act of survival. Hunting to keep yourself and your family fed takes precious energy and effort. Food is never freely given, not without a price.
And now Jayce is offering this meal to Viktor with no mention of payment.
Jayce takes a seat at the opposite end of the table with a smaller bowl of stew. “Eat,” he says. “There’s more in the kitchen if you’re not full after.”
It’s funny. Viktor could probably eat only half of the bowl of stew and feel full.
He takes the spoon in his hand and tries a sip of the broth. The flavor is incredible, savory with a kick from the spices and seasoning that humans like to use in cooking.
Viktor is used to eating fish he’s hunted himself and whatever seaweed and kelp he can find. Compared to his diet underwater, human cooking is an indulgence that he’s tried only a few times in his life.
He’s had fried potatoes, corn cobs, and whatever he can get from the food vendors on the beach in trade for things scavenged from underwater wrecks. But this is another level above that.
It’s warm. It’s filling. It’s amazing.
Jayce starts to eat from his own bowl once Viktor begins eating. Out of the corner of his eye, Viktor can see Jayce trying to study him whenever he leans over to take another bite. If this is Jayce’s best attempt at being subtle, he’s failing miserably at it.
Viktor figures that this conversation is long overdue. He owes Jayce some sort of explanation for all the effort he’s gone through at least.
“I’m sure you have questions,” Viktor says. “I can see you looking, Jayce.”
Jayce snaps his head up. He stammers, flustered. “Only if you want to answer them, of course!”
A part of Viktor takes satisfaction in making the human sweat a bit. “Well, I’m here now, aren’t I? And I’m offering.”
Jayce opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. Viktor can almost see the gears working overtime in Jayce’s head as he figures out what to say.
“Ask, Jayce,” Viktor cuts in before Jayce can flounder for any longer. “Do you not wonder what I am?”
“You’re alive,” Jayce exclaims, his eyes wide and sincere. “You were clearly intelligent from the moment I met you and you were hurting so much, and I never wanted to make you uncomfortable.” He swallows. “And I figured you weren’t human, but I didn’t want to assume at all!”
Strangely enough, Viktor doesn’t feel dehumanized yet.
“You’re right. We call ourselves mers, merfolk, or sea children in our language.”
“You said we? So there’s more of you out there?”
Viktor hesitates, taken aback. Out of all the questions he could have asked, this is what Jayce wants to know? So he can figure out just how rare of a specimen he is, is that why?
He inhales sharply. “You understand why I don’t want to answer that right?” Too worried by Jayce’s potential reaction, he avoids meeting Jayce’s gaze, staring past Jayce’s right shoulder. “Humans don’t know about us, and I can’t be the reason for our discovery.”
Viktor can’t stop his hands from shaking. Is this the point where Jayce admits his true intentions of using Viktor as his ticket to fame? And that all his kindness was a cheap lie? His voice tremors. “Please,” he begs.
In an instant, Jayce’s hands are on top of Viktor’s, holding them steady. His hands are large enough to completely engulf Viktor’s hands. “Viktor, I would never,” he says. “You’re your own person. I would never sell you out like that, please believe me. That would be beyond horrible .”
Jayce’s eyes bore into Viktor’s. “You don’t have to answer at all! I’m sorry I asked.” He gently squeezes Viktor’s hands. “I just wanted to know if you had anyone to go home to and help you. That’s it, I swear.”
Viktor deflates all at once. Leave it to Jayce to surprise him once again.
Humans lie, humans sweeten their words with pretty promises. Viktor should have no reason to trust Jayce, but he finds he does trust him and the way he looks distraught at the idea of what Viktor is saying.
He takes a bit out of the fish. The meat is tender, flaky.
“Out there in the ocean,” Viktor starts. “Everything runs on debts and personal gain. We’re solitary creatures. Everyone looks out for themselves and their family only.”
It’s difficult to explain the true experience of life in the ocean to a human. Hard to describe the loneliness of being surrounded by such constant beauty every day, yet knowing that any interactions with your own kind would only be met with hostility and suspicion.
But then again, from what Viktor can tell, Jayce is here alone in this house. There must be some aspect of loneliness that Jayce can understand.
“And do you? Have any family, that is?” Jayce asks.
Viktor did once. The memories of swimming with his mother and father have never left him, even after all these years. It’s been almost two decades since their loss, but the pain still feels just as raw. “No,” he says simply.
“Then, stay. Please, Viktor, there’s more than enough room for you here.”
Viktor clenches his spoon in his fist. “What does it matter to you anyway? Why do all this?” It’s not as if Viktor has much of a choice right now in his current state. “So you can keep me here in this house like a gilded little cage, is that it?”
Jayce flinches. Good, Viktor wants his words to hurt. Why does Jayce insist on making it seem like Viktor’s choice when he’s the one that holds all the power over Viktor?
“It’ll take more than just kindness to keep me docile,” Viktor spits out.
“No, not at all,” Jayce cries out. “You can leave whenever you want, I promise. Hell, if you wanted to leave right now, I’d help you. Just say the word.”
Viktor drops his spoon back into the bowl. It hits the bottom with a clink.
“I wouldn’t keep you trapped like that. I just want to help you heal since you said you have no one else.” Jayce’s voice is ragged. His eyes look misty. “Please let me take care of you? That’s all I’m asking.”
Viktor slumps in his chair. How could he argue against that when Jayce looks so genuinely hopeful? “I’ll stay.”
The smile that lights up Jayce’s face makes Viktor forget how to breathe for a second.
He’ll stay for one day before he reevaluates, Viktor tells himself.
One day becomes three days.
And then three days become seven.
Jayce shows Viktor his calendar. He goes to work five out of seven days a week.
Jayce is a structural engineer working on making buildings more tsunami and flood resistant. It sounds like an important role. Viktor respects it. The sea is fickle and selfish, claiming as many mer lives as human lives. He wishes he understood more when Jayce tries to explain the technical aspects of his work though.
Jayce finds a crutch in a closet for Viktor to lean on so he can maneuver around the house without Jayce’s help. Jayce explains that it’s from that time he broke his leg years ago, so it’s a little tall for Viktor, but it works well enough.
They fall into an easy routine together, their lives tangling seamlessly.
Before Jayce heads out to work, he shakes Viktor awake while it’s still dark outside to say goodbye. Viktor then drifts back into sleep, dozing for a few more hours. When he wanders out of Jayce’s room with his crutch, there’s always a meal left out for him on the dining room table.
Some days, it’s a sandwich of tomato, salad greens, and sliced meat. Other days, it’s a bowl of rice with seaweed soup and scrambled eggs on the side. Simple. Filling.
Jayce gives Viktor full permission to explore anything in the house while he’s gone.
The first day that Jayce leaves for work, Viktor holds his breath in anticipation until he hears the lock click behind Jayce. He goes straight to the room with the books that he caught a glimpse of. There, he finds filled bookshelves that tower over him.
So much knowledge in one place, and now all at Viktor’s disposal.
A lot of the texts that Jayce keeps are specialized ones that Viktor wishes he could understand: Advanced Series on Ocean Engineering and Engineering Perspectives for Tsunami Mitigation. There are also books on chemistry, physics, and mathematics as well as an entire shelf dedicated to fiction.
The pages of the books are dry, ink standing out in neat lines across the page. They’re all in perfect condition , unlike the waterlogged, damp books that Viktor had learned to read from. There are books with Jayce’s notes in the margins, and some with a bookmark left halfway through. It’s glorious.
Each day after waking up and eating, he selects a text and pours over the pages and diagrams, relishing in the experience of taking in knowledge at his own pace. Jayce always finds him hunched over a book while sitting on the floor or at the dining room table when he comes home in the late afternoon.
If he notices Viktor reads at a slower rate than normal humans, Jayce doesn’t comment on it. He only offers to help Viktor with whatever he’s having trouble understanding if he wants.
After Jayce comes home from work, they prepare a meal together. The burner on the stove that Jayce cooks with intimidates Viktor, the presence of fire unnerving. Jayce lets him use a knife to slice vegetables and cooks the meal himself.
Once Viktor tells Jayce that he can eat more than just seafood, Jayce makes it his goal to cook as many different dishes for Viktor as possible. He introduces Viktor to breaded fried meat, stir fried dishes, and a variety of different pastas and raviolis.
At the end of each day, Jayce leads Viktor to the bathroom, where Viktor climbs into the bathtub and shifts back into his tail form. Jayce applies a soothing balm for his irritated, itchy scales and the healing flesh underneath stitching itself back together.
Once Jayce redresses the wound, Viktor shifts into his leg form again and they climb into bed together. Viktor goes under the covers first, then Jayce climbs into his side of the bed. Jayce always pulls the covers up to Viktor’s chin, the velvety texture of it tickling Viktor’s neck, before whispering “Night, Viktor. Sweet dreams.” Then, he rolls onto his side to shut off the lamp on the bedside stand.
One night, Viktor wakes to the sound of Jayce whimpering. His eyes are squeezed shut, tears gathering at the corners. He’s babbling in his sleep. Viktor can only catch small fragments of “Help me” and “Make it stop, please.”
Viktor shoots his hand out to Jayce’s shaking body to break whatever dream Jayce is caught in. Jayce’s skin is clammy, cold. He’s kicked all the blankets off him in his sleep, leaving him shivering under the draft coming in from the window.
Jayce looks so small curled into himself near the edge of the bed.
Viktor snatches the corner of the blankets, pulling it over Jayce’s shoulders, refusing to let Jayce suffer for a second longer. Under the covers, he moves over to squeeze Jayce against his chest, his arms holding Jayce close, until he finally feels the warmth coming back to Jayce’s skin again.
The tension dissipates from Jayce’s face as he stops his quiet cries. He snuffles in his sleep, nuzzling up to Viktor’s body. Viktor’s relieved.
The image of Jayce shivering and scared stays in Viktor’s mind long after he wakes up the next morning.
Viktor was afraid that he would feel on edge around Jayce most if not all the time, but the truth is that he never does.
There are times when he shrinks inward when Jayce makes a sudden movement in front of him. Sometimes, he takes a step backwards when Jayce goes in for a hug too quickly. Jayce always catches himself and apologizes.
The thing about living with Jayce is that his touchiness only grows the more time he spends with Viktor.
At first, it’s the automatic brush of Jayce’s hand against his shoulder whenever he makes Jayce laugh. Or the way Jayce rests his hand against Viktor’s back whenever he pauses in the hallway to catch his breath.
Before long, Jayce starts resting his head on Viktor’s shoulder when they sit side by side reading something together after Viktor doesn’t push him away the first time he does it. Jayce hugs Viktor with increasing frequency: whenever he gets home from work, after redressing Viktor’s wound, or if he catches Viktor spiraling into his thoughts.
More than once, Viktor catches Jayce staring at his eyes, mouth partially open, whenever he cracks a smile at something Jayce says.
After a lifetime of living alone, Jayce’s touch feels relentless in its warmth. The sensation lingers on Viktor’s skin long after Jayce pulls away. Viktor finds himself leaning into Jayce’s touch before he realizes what he’s doing.
Jayce’s touch is overwhelming. Viktor can’t imagine living without it ever again.
Living with Jayce feels like emerging from a year long winter to a gentle spring. They meld into each other until Viktor can’t tell where Jayce’s influence on him begins and where his influence on Jayce ends.
It’s better than Viktor could have dreamed of. And simultaneously a nightmare in its own way.
Because Viktor knows this has to end.
With each time Jayce tends to Viktor’s wound, the gashes look a little thinner and shallower. His scales are growing back, glossy and brittle at first, but steady in their growth. When he shifts his tail into legs, gone are the bruises that lined his right ankle.
He can navigate around the house without heavily leaning on Jayce’s crutch now, and putting pressure on his right foot is tolerable. All that remains is a persistent ache and weakness in his right knee and calf.
It’s undeniable. Viktor is healing.
And with each day that he regains his strength, the sea calls to him with greater force. It’s been far too long since he’s been in the ocean. His body knows it even though his mind refuses to acknowledge the fact.
Mers are not meant to go without the sea for more than a moon cycle at most. Viktor has already passed the halfway point of the feeling going from an uncomfortable nagging to an all consuming urge several days ago.
He doesn’t want to leave behind whatever this life is that the two of them have created, but he needs to go back to the ocean. He’s avoided thinking about his mangled tail fin for all this time, afraid of where his thoughts might lead him, but he will need to confront the reality of it soon when he goes back home.
He wonders how to tell Jayce that he’ll be going now. Jayce did give him permission to leave at any point. Then again, Viktor doesn’t think that any of them expected him to stay for as long as he has. Or for what has bloomed between the two of them to have grown with such force.
If Viktor leaves, he’ll never have to worry about being found out by humans again. He’ll be able to return to his life in the ocean, where there will be no more walls and doors and locks.
And if he leaves, Jayce will be alone in this house again with no one to comfort him if he gets another nightmare and no one to hug when he gets home from work. He doesn’t want to hurt Jayce. Jayce, who brings different chocolates home for Viktor to try when he stops by the market. Jayce, who looks at Viktor like he’s hung the stars when he shares a memory from his life in the ocean.
Viktor figures that he’ll break the news to Jayce over breakfast in the morning tomorrow. Jayce has the day off, and they were planning on cooking a seafood rice dish together.
That day, Viktor wakes up to Jayce gone from his side of the bed. They usually wake up at around the same time together when Jayce has the day off. Jayce left his journal lying open on the nightstand. Viktor sits up, suddenly alert.
It’s the same leather bound journal that Jayce is always writing in when he’s sitting at the table in his study or when he has trouble sleeping. Jayce always leaves the journal closed and on the nearest surface so he can find it easily later on.
Viktor respects Jayce’s privacy and will never look inside his journal without his permission. But now that the journal’s pages are left open and right there beside Viktor… In a trance, Viktor lifts it from the table and studies the page that it’s been open on
He feels like the breath has been punched out of his chest.
The page is filled with illustrations of his tail from several angles, all in graphic detail. The contours and shadows of his tail have been penciled in, down to the texture of every last scale. There are notes of technical jargon in the margins that Viktor can’t understand.
He feels nauseous.
Jayce has been here this entire time, taking notes about his body in his journal, studying him like he’s a goddamn lab animal. The attention to detail in his notes is impossible to have been achieved in one or two days alone. It must have been a matter of weeks that Jayce has been working on this.
And Viktor has been staying here in this house, growing soft on Jayce like a naive little merling. He's been growing complacent in his captivity, only the cage keeping him trapped is one of his own creation. He wonders if Jayce gets off on knowing that he’ll never swim normally again.
Jayce comes into the room, smiling. “Viktor, breakfast is ready.” He stops in the middle of the doorway when he sees his journal in Viktor’s hands.
“What is this?” Viktor snarls. He snaps the book shut and throws it at Jayce’s face. “All this time, you were taking notes of me? Who were you going to sell them to? Or were you planning on writing a report on me and publishing it?”
Viktor surges up from the bed, grabbing the crutch by the side of the bed. He refuses to look small in front of Jayce ever again. “Selling me out would be beyond horrible,” he scoffs. “That’s what you said yourself, Jayce.”
Jayce stands frozen.
Viktor walks over to pick up the journal from the floor, shoving it into Jayce’s chest. “I would never have guessed you were such a good liar, Jayce.”
Jayce opens and closes his mouth. He takes the journal from Viktor and goes to the bed. Viktor wordlessly follows, standing over Jayce while Jayce sits on the bed.
Jayce reaches a hand out towards Viktor’s face. Viktor’s full body flinches, his heart hammering in his chest.
“It’s not what it looks like.” Jayce retracts his hand and shows his palms facing up.
Jayce’s tone is soft, like he’s trying to calm Viktor down. It sickens Viktor. He wants none of it.
“Like hell it isn’t.” Viktor clenches his jaw. “You shouldn’t lie, Jayce. It’s not a good look on you,” he sneers. He wants to cry. Did he even know Jayce at all or was everything an act to get Viktor’s trust?
“No, Viktor. Viktor, please, listen to me. I’m begging you.” Jayce opens the journal and flips it to another page after the one with diagrams of Viktor’s tail. He hands it to Viktor, who takes it with shaky hands.
Is Jayce going to make him read his observations on Viktor’s body out loud? Wouldn’t that be cruel, even for Jayce?
“It’s a work in progress, but it’s a prosthetic for your tail fin,” Jayce says.
Viktor’s brain whites out. A what?
Viktor reads the page for himself, taking in the new diagrams of mechanical gears and measurements for an artificial skin material, equally detailed. This is for his tail fin? For him?
Viktor releases the breath that he didn’t know he was holding. The words on the page written by Jayce look back at him, mocking him. He doesn’t know whether he should laugh or scream.
“I’m sorry. I kept it a secret from you because I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable while you were healing, but I should never have tried to meddle like this.” Jayce rushes to say when Viktor doesn’t reply.
Jayce gently pries the journal from Viktor’s hands. Viktor lets go of it without a fight.
“I’ll burn it right away. I overstepped, didn’t I? You’ll never have to see these notes again,” Jayce promises.
Viktor props his crutch on the nightstand and sits down beside Jayce. His thoughts are a jumbled mess in his head. “So they’re not research notes? They’re like a …” Viktor trails off, unsure of the word.
“A blueprint,” Jayce nods. “So I can figure out how to best fit it to your tail.”
This changes everything. If Jayce truly creates this contraption, then Viktor would be able to properly swim in the sea again. He doesn’t know what to say or think in response.
Jayce starts to get up from the bed, but Viktor catches his wrist before he can leave.
“No, no. Don’t throw it out," Viktor says. “It would mean… everything to me.” He doesn’t want to ask for this from Jayce. It sounds like a monumentally large task, but Jayce is quick to reply.
“Then of course I’ll complete it for you. Anything for you.”
In the aftermath of the fight, Jayce’s journal lies between them on the bed. Several pages are folded after being thrown to the floor by Viktor. Remorseful, Viktor tries to smoothen out the pages.
Viktor dares to look into Jayce’s eyes again. His face is pale, and his eyebrows are furrowed. Jayce's eyes are wild, darting from Viktor’s face down to the floor and then back up again.
Jayce looks shaken. How strange, what does Jayce have to be scared of?
Viktor turns towards Jayce and opens his arms. Jayce looks at him, head tilted, and Viktor nods. “Come here, Jayce.”
Jayce makes some sort of strangled noise and melts into his arms. They hold each other until their heartbeats slow back down. Jayce shudders. “I won’t let you down, Viktor.”
No, Jayce won’t. Viktor trusts Jayce. “I know,” he says.
It’s alright now.
Viktor has made up his mind.
He pulls away to see Jayce staring into his eyes, unblinking. “I’ll be gone for a little while. I’ll return, don’t worry,” Viktor says.
Jayce worms his way back into Viktor’s arms. “Gone where?” Jayce asks against his skin.
Viktor snorts. “The ocean, Jayce. Where else?” He pets Jayce’s disheveled hair as Jayce buries his face in Viktor’s chest. “I’ve stayed away from the ocean for far too long, and I need to return.”
“Will you come back?”
Viktor could just leave. He could stay in the ocean for the rest of his life, but he doesn’t want to.
“I’ll come back.”
Viktor has made up his mind. He chooses Jayce.
Viktor leaves after Jayce leaves for work because he’s too much of a coward to say bye to Jayce’s face. Jayce has done so much for him already. He has no clue how he’ll ever start to repay Jayce’s kindness.
He leaves a note signed with his name on the dining room table. And then he returns to the ocean.
Swimming is hard. With his torn tail fin, his balance is thrown off. He’s slower too, since his tail can’t generate as much propulsion as before. He feels his gills working harder than usual to make up for the loss of his ease of movement.
Viktor is constantly on edge, wary of any attackers or predators that might be lurking nearby.
He revisits his usual hunting grounds. On the edge of a coral reef, he spots a sea slug and thinks of the plush sea slugs that sit on Jayce’s bookshelves in a variety of colors. When he sees a pair of dolphins swim by, he’s reminded of Jayce’s comment that he would love to see a dolphin in real life one day.
He finds his usual underwater cave the same way he left it. It’s lucky that no other mer has found his spot and claimed it for themselves. He stakes out the cave for any trace of enemies lingering nearby for hours, but finds nothing.
In a pocket of the cave, Viktor lets himself drift off into sleep, no different from how he’s fallen asleep for the past few years of his life. And yet, he feels uneasy without the sound of Jayce’s breathing beside him. He’s never felt this cold underwater before.
For the next two days, Jayce haunts his every thought.
When Viktor finally feels the tightness in his chest settle, he knows that he can leave the ocean again. He makes his way to the coastline. He’s careful to shift his tail into a pair of legs before he breaches the surface of the water in case there are people around.
It’s sunset when he limps out of the ocean, sea foam dripping off of him. Back on land, he doesn’t know what to expect to find waiting for him. Every fiber of him flutters in anticipation of seeing Jayce again.
When Viktor fixes his gaze on the shoreline, he sees a single person sitting slumped on the sand. Illuminated by the setting sun, their body casts a long shadow on the ground. It’s only until Viktor gets closer that he realizes that it’s Jayce.
Jayce holds a new cane in his lap while he stares vacantly into the sunset. His eyes are red rimmed, sunken in. Viktor’s heart clenches.
Viktor cries Jayce's name.
Jayce's eyes fly open. He shouts in joy and surges up from the sand, breaking into a run towards Viktor.
Jayce opens his arms wide.
Viktor tumbles into his embrace, laughing.