Chapter Text
There were very few things Jayce and Viktor kept from each other, but there was one particular subject they never discussed—a subject Viktor purposefully avoided, and that Jayce was growing increasingly concerned about.
Viktor was sick.
Admittedly, his partner was trying very hard to conceal it; still, Jayce noticed. It was difficult not to see the dark shadows under his eyes and the unusual paleness of his skin, symptoms that Viktor’s lack of sleep couldn’t entirely explain; or the way he always excused himself, rushing out of the lab at a pace that probably hurt his leg, only to cough his lungs out, the walls too thin to block out the guttural, unsettling groans erupting from his throat. Whenever he got back to work—his breath short, his voice hoarse—Viktor always acted as if nothing had happened. But Jayce was not blind: the recurrent coughing fits were leaving him tired, exhausted.
Weaker every day.
Though Jayce and Viktor never talked about it, it was also clear that Viktor’s declining health was becoming a hindrance to his productivity, which was unfortunate at this time of the year—indeed the busiest time for Piltover and all inventors alike.
Progress Day was coming soon, and with it, the most important innovation contest of the year.
There were only three weeks left until the start of the festivities, and the exhibitions held that day were the biggest opportunity for promising scientists to make a name for themselves. Despite their overwhelming success, Jayce and Viktor were no exception. Though they were both held in high regard for their groundbreaking achievements, everyone also had high expectations for their work. More than the Council, the people wanted to see something innovative and revolutionary, and it proved to be an increasingly difficult challenge with each passing year. Jayce and Viktor needed to impress—they had, after all, a reputation to uphold.
For the last few months, they had been working on a new robot meant to dispose of hazardous waste in the hope of cleaning the most polluted areas of the undercity. Admittedly, Jayce hadn’t been immediately sold on the idea. After all, why would the Council ever be interested in financing an environmental cleanup automaton that wouldn’t benefit them directly? Why would Piltovan merchants invest in a technology that would not bring them any profit?
When he had shared his doubts with Viktor, his partner had arched an eyebrow.
“What’s the most important thing to you?” Viktor had asked Jayce with his distinctive lilting accent. “Helping those in need? Or getting paid for creating worthless gizmos and gadgets?”
“You know I don’t work on my creations for money or fame,” Jayce had replied, hurt that Viktor would even imply otherwise. “I want to help people as much as you do. But for that, we need resources. Money. Shouldn’t we try to appeal to those who can help us financially first? We could improve their lives, too. Still make a difference.”
The answer Viktor had given Jayce had stuck with him ever since.
“Well, that’s the thing,” he had said with that small, lopsided smile of his. “Helping those who already have the means to help themselves won’t make much of a difference. It is by helping those in need that we can truly change the world.”
And that was all it took to convince Jayce.
Surely—since Jayce had been so easily persuaded—there were many other wealthy, benevolent Piltovans out there just waiting to be persuaded as well. Right? All they had to do to convince them was to show off their fantastic new concept during Progress Day, and they would be swayed to their cause. Surely. No, no, absolutely.
Jayce would never know if Viktor had laughed at his overconfidence or his newfound enthusiasm for their common project, but he’d realized he didn’t care so long as his partner was happy. And what would make him happier than achieving his dream? After all, Viktor had once helped make his own a reality. The least Jayce could do was return the favor.
He owed him that.
Unfortunately, their automaton was nowhere near complete, and it was highly unlikely it would ever be ready for Progress Day. Nonetheless, knowing they had so little time left hadn’t deterred them from trying to complete their work in time. It seemed like they were spending all their time together in the lab lately; they often worked for several hours with very few breaks in between. Not that Jayce was complaining—working alongside Viktor was what he loved doing the most—but the added pressure was draining.
Despite his deteriorating health, Viktor had not complained once.
Jayce had dared question him on the subject once, and had regretted it immediately. Viktor’s face had turned wary in an instant, and in an uncharacteristically harsh tone, he had replied that everything was fine, that it was just a cough; then he had remained distant for the rest of the day. Needless to say, Jayce got the hint and never asked again. It hadn’t prevented him from casting Viktor concerned side glances from time to time; but what more could he do? It wasn’t as if he could ask Viktor about his health each time his friend cleared his throat a bit too loudly. Besides, if there really was something, Viktor would have told him already. Right?
Perhaps it really was just a cough.
Thinking back on it, he should have realized how wrong he’d been.
The day Jayce discovered the truth had started like any other: with two good cups of coffee prepared by Jayce, an exciting discussion about the previous day’s results, Viktor complaining about his coffee being too bitter and adding an unhealthy amount of sugar in it, an update of all schematics, Jayce accidentally drinking from Viktor’s cup and nearly choking on it because of how disgustingly sweet the drink was, and, finally, assembling. The odds of finishing their work in time still bordered on impossible, but as Viktor just said, it would be great if they could at least manage to present their ‘Hexbot’ prototype to Professor Heimerdinger to gain his approval before the big day.
“No,” Jayce said in a categorical tone. “No way. We’re not calling it that.”
He was currently lying on his back inside the round, enormous automaton he and Viktor had been working on all afternoon, his legs dangling through the circular hatch as he was attempting (and failing) to divert power from the hextech crystal directly to the main components without overcharging them—in other words, trying to turn it on without making the whole thing explode.
“Why not?” Viktor asked, his voice muted by the thick, golden metallic shell. “It’s a good name. Appropriate.”
Jayce groaned as he awkwardly bent his arm to tug at a cable and disconnect it. His position was getting increasingly uncomfortable by the minute. Anytime he wanted to move—whether to tighten a screw or to simply scratch his nose—there was inevitably some random tech component with sharp edges grazing his skin through his shirt.
“Viktor, I don’t mean any offense, but your names are—how shall I put it—uninspired. Ouch,” Jayce yelped, his legs twitching as he felt a light impact against his calf—by Viktor’s cane, no doubt. “What was that for?”
“Sorry,” Viktor said with the hint of a smile in his voice. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Phew. And here I thought you hit me because you couldn’t handle criticism. I feel better alread—hey.”
“Oops. Sorry again.”
“Sure you are. Anyway, if one day I ever want to lose all credibility within the scientific community, I’ll let you name—wait,” Jayce said, a cable dangling loosely between his fingers. There were at least a dozen different sockets on the panel just in front of him, and the blue light coming from the polished hextech crystal embedded into the central structure inscribed with runes was too faint to properly see the labels. “Remind me where the RC cable should go into?”
Viktor’s voice sounded distant. “Into the left quadracessor.”
This made Jayce pause. “The what?”
“The quadranium-powered processor,” Viktor said, now sounding closer. “And for the record, I did not name them. Professor Heimerdinger did.”
“Of course he did. You couldn’t possibly have been the one to come up with a name that good—ouch!” Another kick against his leg, stronger this time, though his groan of pain might have been slightly exaggerated. “I suppose that one was also an accident?”
“Oh, no. That one was on purpose. You deserved it.”
Jayce laughed, then groaned as pain flared in his back. Laughing hurt. Just lying there hurt. The sooner he would be free of this cramped space, the better.
After one final check to ensure everything was in place and securely connected, Jayce plugged the loose end of the cable into the quadracessor.
A low rumbling ran through the entire structure, and the hextech crystal suddenly flickered to life, magical runes dancing all around it, blinding Jayce with shimmering blue light. Viktor’s excited exclamations were drowned out by his own groans of pain: the jostle caused by the vibrations did nothing to alleviate his discomfort, and there was a specific spot—right below his left buttock—that was growing uncomfortably hot. A moment later, Jayce wriggled himself out of the automaton, wincing and groaning as he let himself fall onto the floor.
A pale, long-fingered hand extended to him. Viktor was smiling broadly at him, his amber eyes sparkling despite the shadows beneath them, wild strands of brown hair messily laid over his forehead.
“Told you it would work,” he said cheerfully.
“I never doubted you,” Jayce smiled back as he grasped Viktor’s hand to get to his feet. “Though I have to admit I was pretty worried about burning some precious part of my anatomy for a second.”
Viktor glanced sideways at him, then said playfully, “Don’t worry. Nothing happened to your hair.”
“Ha, ha,” Jayce laughed dryly, making Viktor chuckle. Stretching his arms above his head, Jayce cracked his neck a couple of times, then put his hands on his hips and said proudly, “The era of the Great Steam Golem is about to begin.”
There was a snort of suppressed laughter. Jayce threw a sidelong glance at Viktor. His shoulders shaking ever so slightly, Viktor was pursing his lips as if trying not to laugh.
“What?” Jayce asked.
“Have you ever heard that old story about the pot and the kettle?” Viktor said lightly. “It’s a really good one.”
Jayce’s confidence deflated like a sad party balloon. “You don’t like the name?”
“Well, it’s—how shall I put it—misleading.”
He looked a little smug at that, which gave Jayce the sudden desire to own a cane for the sole purpose of poking Viktor in his good leg with it.
“Mislead—Viktor, it is kind of a golem. And it’s great. And it’s steam-powered.”
“Auxiliary systems only,” Viktor pointed out. “You’re not going to make people believe the mainframe isn’t hextech-powered. Besides, people like Hextech. It changed their lives for the better. I cannot imagine naming one of our creations based on something other than Hextech—and neither does the Council, by the way.”
“I see your point,” Jayce admitted grudgingly. “What if we just call it the Great Hextech Golem instead?”
“Or we could just call it Hexbot.”
“The Awesome Hextech Titan also has a nice ring to it...”
“Or we could just call it Hexbot.”
Jayce threw his head back and let out a frustrated grunt, eliciting an amused laugh from Viktor.
“Out of curiosity,” Viktor asked, “why don’t you like the name?”
Jayce rubbed the back of his neck. “I guess it lacks some… panache, is the word. What we do is supposed to be the stuff of dreams but you name our creations as if they were nothing more than basic tools.”
The familiar quirk at the corner of Viktor’s mouth twitched into a teasing smile. “You’re saying my names aren’t Piltovan enough to your liking.”
“What I’m saying,” Jayce said loudly, purposefully ignoring Viktor’s remark, “is that when you create something that’s going to change the world, you give it a name able to convey at least some degree of grandeur instead of—you know—simply calling them Hexthings.”
His emphasis on the last word didn’t seem to be lost on Viktor, who let out a low whistle then said, almost conversationally, “Someone’s still mad about the Hexgates.”
“Don’t get me started on the Hexgates!” Jayce exclaimed indignantly, sending Viktor into a fit of hearty laughter. “The greatest invention of the century, and the Council chose your name suggestion over mine? What were they thinking?” He sighed wistfully. “To think they could have been called ‘Astral Windows’…”
“The world wasn’t ready for such greatness,” Viktor said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. “Don’t worry, Jayce. Your time will come.”
“With the Great Steam Golem.”
“I meant to say, your time will come, eventually.”
Jayce poked him in the side with his elbow. Viktor huffed quietly at that, smiling warmly.
“Never mind its name,” Jayce said. “It’s going to be awesome either way. I mean, look at it!” he exclaimed enthusiastically, appraising the half-assembled robot—gears exposed and cables spilling where limbs should have been—with almost paternal pride. “Isn’t it beautiful? A marvel of engineering, I’m telling you! People are going to love it!”
Without warning, a loud crackling noise along with blue sparks erupted from inside the chassis, promptly followed by a thin, dark trail of smoke billowing from the golden metallic frame and carrying the faint, but distinct, smell of burnt circuits.
Jayce and Viktor exchanged a glance.
“Uh.” Jayce scratched his temple. “Was that supposed to happen?”
Viktor made a face. “No.”
“Too much conductivity?”
“Undeniably.”
“How about better constraints around the gem?”
“And a new quadracessor.”
“Noted. Anything else?”
Viktor smiled bleakly. “Six more weeks?”
“Uh…” Jayce paused for a moment, before his shoulders slumped in defeat. “We’re never going to be ready for Progress Day.”
Viktor lowered his head. “It’s very likely.”
A sharp twinge of pain gripped Jayce’s heart at the sight of his partner’s crestfallen expression. Disappointing the Council was one thing; but disappointing Viktor? Intolerable.
“We can still try,” Jayce said hurriedly, eager to smooth the crease between Viktor’s eyebrows. “If I skip the rehearsals for the opening ceremony—”
“Don’t even think about missing the rehearsals,” Viktor said seriously. “It is essential you prepare for the opening ceremony. Besides, if you decide not to attend, it will only give us, what, two more days? We need weeks.”
“If I skip the rehearsals,” Jayce repeated stubbornly as if Viktor hadn’t interrupted him, “and let Rosa and Axel prepare the exhibitions on their own…”
“You can’t do this,” Viktor protested. “They need you out there.”
“You need me more.”
A low rumbling rose from Viktor’s throat as he suppressed a cough. His cheeks turned crimson, a striking contrast with his usually pale skin.
“Jayce,” Viktor rasped, “you’re the Man of Progress. People are counting on you. Your role is far too important for you to—”
“Not as important as this,” Jayce interrupted, beckoning his chin toward the automaton. “This is our work, our dream. What kind of partner would I be if I abandoned you now?”
The cough he had been trying to suppress broke through, and Viktor twisted around, coughing strenuously into his fist. The creeping worry that had been lurking in the recesses of Jayce’s mind for weeks instantly flared to life, like a cold monster snaking its tendrils around his heart. Without thinking, Jayce stepped forward, hand half-raised and heading for Viktor’s shoulder; but before he could reach him, Viktor turned back, his composure seemingly regained, though his free hand was tugging at the red tie around his neck in an obvious attempt to ease his breathing.
“Jayce,” Viktor said hoarsely as though nothing had happened, “I wouldn’t—you know I wouldn’t hold it against you.”
“And you know I could never look you in the eye again if I left you on our own.”
Viktor stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. “Jayce…”
“Don’t worry,” Jayce cut in confidently, determined to set things right. “I’ll find a way. I’ll speak to Professor Heimerdinger, see what he can do for us. We’re going to do it, Viktor. We’re going to finish this thing and make the world a better place—like we promised we would. And we’re going to do it—” Jayce laid a reassuring hand on Viktor’s shoulders, “—together.”
It was at this moment that everything went wrong.
A loud, ugly choke rose from Viktor’s throat, as though something was lodged deep in his airway. An expression somewhere between pain and horror crossed his features; his eyes were wild, his mouth agape, and the hand that had been tugging at his tie was now clenched into a white-knuckled fist against his chest. Before Jayce could so much as react, a violent tremor seized Viktor, and he stumbled away from Jayce, staggering toward the door in an obvious attempt to leave, until another tremor made him shudder so violently he lost grasp of his cane and collapsed against the desk, sending stacks of papers and parchments cascading to the floor.
“Viktor!” Jayce shouted, rushing toward his friend in a haze of pure, unadulterated panic. “Oh my God, Viktor!”
Without thinking, Jayce looped an arm around Viktor’s waist to lift him up, then slapped him hard between his shoulder blades. Twice. Three times. On the fourth blow, a stifled wheeze escaped Viktor’s lips, and Viktor coughed and coughed, hands splayed on the desk, shoulders heaving up and down uncontrollably in his desperate attempt to dislodge whatever was blocking his airway… until finally, finally, he retched violently and spat a mouthful of… something onto the desk; what exactly, Jayce couldn’t tell, but as soon as it was out of his system, Viktor coughed and sputtered as he drew in huge lungfuls of air, and that was the only thing Jayce registered—the only thing that mattered.
The room fell eerily silent, apart from Viktor’s ragged, labored breathing.
“Viktor,” Jayce whispered tentatively, afraid the slightest disturbance might worsen his partner’s already precarious state. “Viktor, are you all right?”
It took a few moments for Viktor to answer. His shoulders were quivering uncontrollably; a trickle of saliva and blood was trailing from the corner of his mouth down to his chin. Still wheezing, Viktor wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then lowered his head.
“I’m—fine,” he croaked.
Slowly, Jayce reached forward to touch his shoulder, but Viktor flinched, rolling his shoulder away. An unexpected reaction—as unexpected as the hot sting of rejection that needled its way through Jayce’s heart. Nonetheless, Jayce retracted his hand at once. The last thing he wanted was to add to his partner’s discomfort.
“What—what happened?” Jayce stuttered, still in shock. “One moment you were fine, and the next… What happened to you? What—”
The rest of Jayce’s sentence died on his lips. Something had just caught his attention—the thing Viktor had spat on the desk. And the sight was so jarring that Jayce could only stare in quiet disbelief.
Lying on the desk were long, delicate flower petals of a strikingly crimson color.
They were obviously magical, thought Jayce distantly. And it wasn’t even because they originated from Viktor’s lungs—which in itself was proof of their magical nature—that made him come to this conclusion; it was because they were glowing. A radiant light, reminiscent of a summer’s sunset, emanated from the petals, and it was so bright Jayce idly wondered whether they were warm to the touch. Long and soft-looking, the borders and the recurved tip were a brighter orange than the inner part, dotted with deep crimson. Even smeared with blood, they were absolutely breathtaking.
Ironic, considering Viktor nearly suffocated on them.
For a split moment, stupefaction supplanted Jayce’s intense worry.
“Are those—are those flowers?”
A strained silence followed his words. Jayce looked at Viktor. His partner was petrified. His heavy breathing had come to an abrupt stop, and what little color remained in his face had drained away. His unblinking eyes were wide open, looking somewhat… horrified.
No, more than horrified: terrified.
Then, without a word—without a single glance in Jayce’s direction—Viktor fetched his cane at his feet and strode toward the door.
“Viktor,” Jayce pleaded, “no, Viktor, please, wait—”
But the door slammed shut behind him with a resounding finality that seemed to echo in Jayce’s head, and he stared blindly at it without moving, feeling suddenly lost and very, very alone.
* * *
Finding where Viktor had gone had been easy. It was figuring out how to broach the subject with him that proved to be an incredibly difficult task.
After waiting an hour to give his partner some space (and mull over the best way to talk to him), Jayce had gone directly to the water filtering plant at the edge of the city. For a moment, Jayce had feared to find the place empty; but when he saw Viktor, sitting at his usual spot, the fear that had been lodged like splinters in Jayce’s stomach ever since his partner had disappeared from view eased at last.
When he was close enough, Jayce cleared his throat to make his presence known. Viktor slightly tilted his head toward him in acknowledgment, but kept his eyes on the oasis below. Taking his silence for assent, Jayce sat down beside Viktor, elbows resting on his knees, looking at the city in the distance without really seeing it.
For a long while, neither of them spoke. The only sounds were that of the water rushing down into the oasis below, the continuous, rhythmic clanking of machinery in the background, and—had it not been for their unusual silence, Jayce would not have heard it—the faint rustle of ivy leaves in the light breeze. But the sound that Jayce found himself focusing on was that of Viktor’s breathing—slow, steady, yet slightly labored, as though an invisible weight was pressed against his chest.
“So,” Jayce spoke when his concern finally became too much to bear. “You’re sick.”
“What gave it away?” Viktor said slowly, a sad, weak smile curling on his lips. “The constant coughing or all the flower petals I’ve just thrown up on your desk?”
His voice didn’t sound like it usually did—a consequence of his coughing fit, no doubt. It was raw, grating, wrecked.
“Yeah, the flowers were kind of a dead giveaway,” Jayce said in a tone he hoped was light, though he was keenly aware of the anxious edge in his voice. Swallowing the nagging worry growing in his gut, he asked, “How are you feeling?”
Viktor grimaced. “Like I’ve tried to swallow down an entire bouquet.”
“Funny. That was actually my second guess.”
Viktor laughed—a small victory—but it was quickly followed by a thick hacking cough.
Silence fell between them again, tense and heavy. Jayce waited patiently, glancing at Viktor to see if he would speak up; but his partner remained resolutely silent, looking at the oasis below with hollow, unfocused eyes.
“That’s no regular cough you got there,” Jayce said cautiously.
Viktor scoffed. “That’s an understatement.”
“And do you know… do you know what it is?”
Viktor stiffened as if steeling himself. “It’s called Hanahaki.”
Jayce felt a sudden chill to the bone. “I think I’ve heard of it. In some Ionian tales.” No need to tell most of those Ionian tales about magical diseases generally ended tragically. “So this disease—it makes flowers grow in your lungs?”
“That’s the gist of it.”
“And how long have you been sick?”
A strained pause. “Months.”
“Months,” Jayce repeated.
It was as he had suspected, then. Of course it was.
“And how bad is it?” Jayce asked, and when Viktor didn’t reply right away, Jayce insisted, “Viktor? How bad?”
Another pause.
Longer.
Then Viktor looked at him with a pained smile, and Jayce knew what he was about to say before he said it.
“Bad,” Viktor admitted at last.
“I see,” Jayce said numbly.
A loud metallic rattle echoed right behind them, sending a flock of birds flying away above their heads. Jayce watched them fly away impassively.
He should have felt devastated upon learning the truth; he should have felt heartbroken, or grief-stricken, or something, anything instead of this emptiness, this black hole at the center of his chest sucking every last bit of emotion inside of him. Jayce frowned. Was there something wrong with him?
Perhaps there was. Perhaps he was some kind of monster.
Perhaps he truly didn’t care that Viktor was going to—
His chest heaved with a silent scream.
“I hadn’t planned on telling you like this,” Viktor blurted out, having seemingly sensed Jayce’s distress. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Jayce said hoarsely.
“I meant to tell you, I really did—”
“It’s okay.”
Viktor smiled faintly. “It’s not, though,” he said softly, and something in his voice told Jayce that he wasn’t only talking about the way he’d learned the news.
And there was nothing he could say to that.
Jayce buried his face in his hands and breathed deeply through his nose. Sensing he would not be able to remain in control of his emotions unless he analyzed the situation logically, he forced himself to push all feelings aside and concentrate only on facts.
Viktor was sick with a life-threatening disease. That was just stating a fact; a cruel, unforgiving fact, but a fact nonetheless. Another essential fact: Hanahaki was no regular infection—it was a magical disease. Which meant that, like all magic, it could be harnessed, controlled, destroyed.
His voice sounded a bit too detached to his ears when he asked, “How did you catch it?”
Viktor sighed. “Too much tampering with the Arcane, I suppose.”
“No, that wouldn’t be enough,” Jayce said. Unable to stay still any longer, he stood up and started pacing, voicing his thoughts out loud in the same way he did when faced with a scientific conundrum. “For such magical disease to take root—sorry—for such disease to afflict a living being, the Arcane needs a catalyst, something to hold onto, to feed on. If it uses a physical source of energy…” Jayce grimaced. “Well, that means your body is the fuel. Those kinds of diseases never end well, and they’re really fast. But if it’s an incorporeal source of energy, it could be virtually anything. A thought, an idea, a dream—”
“A feeling,” Viktor said in passing.
“A feeling, yes, exactly! That’s why those diseases are so rare here in Piltover because you need both. A raw seed of magic on one side—” Jayce stopped pacing and held both fists in front of Viktor, “—and a compatible source of energy on the other. And if my memory is correct, in the case of Hanahaki, the energy is—”
“Unrequited love.”
“That’s right! Unrequited love! A never-ending source of energy for the Arcane to consume, resulting—” Jayce mimed an explosion with both hands, “—in flowers growing in someone’s lungs. Which is why I don’t understand how you got sick, because while you may have some close connection to the Arcane due to the nature of our research, you’re not—wait.”
For the second time that day, Jayce felt like someone had just hit him right in the head with one of his father’s hammers. Something had just clicked inside his head: a truth so monumental it managed to push all his distress about the situation aside, like one nail drives out another. It took him a moment to make sense of all the thoughts spinning in his head, but when he finally got them all in order, Jayce was left with a conclusion so simple, so obvious, yet so astonishing he was positive his brain was short-circuiting at this very moment.
Jayce raised a trembling finger at Viktor. “You—you have Hanahaki,” he said breathlessly.
An amused smile tugged at the corners of Viktor’s lips. “What an astute observation.”
“But that means—that means you’re in love with someone.”
Viktor averted his eyes, but the sudden blush coloring his cheeks was unmistakable. “Evidently.”
Evidently.
Another nail, another hit.
Viktor—
And his head was the wall.
Viktor is—
The true meaning of the words and everything they entailed finally dawned on Jayce, plunging him into a crashing sense of vertigo.
Viktor is in love with someone! he thought bemusedly, the stunning revelation playing havoc with his mind in a way learning about Viktor being sick with a magical disease hadn’t. In his defense, there had been obvious signs of Viktor being sick—the recurrent coughing fits, his ashen complexion, the dark circles under his eyes—but in love?
How could he have missed this?
In less than a second, Jayce’s mind replayed every interaction Viktor had had with other people in the last few months—at lunch, in the Academy’s classrooms and hallways, at the numerous events they’d attended together—and found nothing of interest. Yet there was definitely someone out there—who?—whom Viktor had feelings for; someone Viktor loved so much that flowers were blooming in his lungs, slowly killing him from the inside.
Someone who, for some incomprehensible reason, didn’t return his feelings.
“Who?” Jayce blurted out, the word escaping his lips before he could stop it. “Who are you in love with?”
Viktor let out a nervous laugh. “That’s… that’s a personal matter. You shouldn’t be asking—”
“Viktor, you’re sick. That’s a matter of public concern.”
“According to whom?”
“According to me.”
Viktor’s lips twitched, fighting a smile. “I still fail to see the point of you asking—”
“The point,” Jayce interrupted, pronouncing each word deliberately slowly, “is to save your life.”
“By doing what? Playing the matchmaker?” Viktor gave an amused, somewhat derisive snort. “It doesn’t matter who I’m in love with.”
“It matters to me,” Jayce exclaimed fiercely, and as he said the words, he was struck by the sheer veracity of his statement, and the way it had so easily slipped out of his mouth. “I’m going to find that person and demand that they love you back at once.”
There was a moment of bewildered silence, during which Viktor looked at Jayce, his eyes widened in surprise. Then Viktor laughed. It was a sound of genuine mirth so far removed from the misery of the current situation that for a moment Jayce wondered if he had imagined the whole conversation. He knew it was probably irrational, but he felt suddenly left out: it seemed as though Viktor was enjoying some kind of private joke he wasn’t privy to.
“Have I said something funny?” Jayce asked irritably.
“No,” Viktor chuckled, though that same, strange glimmer of amusement was still twinkling in his amber eyes. “No, you haven’t. Listen, I appreciate that you want to help me, but becoming my wingman won’t get you anywhere, I’m afraid.”
“How can you possibly know that?”
“I just do,” Viktor said flatly.
He didn’t look dejected as he said it—only resigned. Jayce wondered whether Viktor had already confessed his feelings to the object of his affection, only to get rejected. The thought made Jayce take an immediate, irrational dislike to whoever this person was.
As if reading his thoughts, Viktor offered Jayce a tired smile. “The person I’m in love with is not to blame for what’s happening to me, Jayce.”
Jayce scoffed. “Allow me to disagree.”
“No one is to blame for what’s happening to me. No one.” A brief pause, then Viktor added, “And no one can help me.”
“I can,” Jayce replied instantly. “I can and I will.”
“I’ve already tried to find a cure on my own,” Viktor said, now sounding bitter. “There’s nothing to be done, believe me.”
“You didn’t have me to help you back then.”
“It won’t make any difference.”
This hurt more than Jayce thought possible.
“You… you don’t think I can help you?” he choked out the words.
“No, that’s not—that’s not what I meant,” Viktor said hurriedly, his voice husky and heavy with regret. “Of course, you’re helping me. In your own way. As a friend. I just—” Viktor averted his gaze, his fingers fidgeting nervously on the handle of his cane. “You can help me by being there for me,” he muttered without looking at Jayce. “That’s all I’m asking.”
“And you think that’s what I’m asking?” Jayce retorted, his hands shaking at his sides as waves of barely controlled emotions he was struggling to keep in check rose inside him. “To not lift a finger to help you? To simply hold your hand while I watch you take your last breath?”
“Jayce,” Viktor pleaded with a new ache in his voice, “please, listen to me—”
“But it’s KILLING YOU!” Jayce yelled so loudly his throat burned. The growing waves of desperation he’d managed to keep at bay until then finally broke through his defenses, engulfing him, drowning him, filling his lungs with suffocating anguish. “Do you really think I’m going to stand by and do nothing?”
“Jayce—”
“No. I won’t let that happen. There must be something I can do—”
“Jayce, please—”
“—maybe if we use Hextech—”
“Jayce!”
His shout hit Jayce like a slap to the face. Viktor—now standing up, his face taut, his eyes hard and glinting with an unusual fire in them that burned straight through Jayce—rarely, if ever, raised his voice. A deafening pause fell between the two of them, like being caught in the eye of a hurricane; and all they could do was stare at each other with a pained expression, like they both couldn’t quite believe they were actually yelling at each other.
“I know you’re upset,” Viktor said heavily, and though he looked calm, his accent had grown noticeably thicker with distress. “I know how you feel. I knew you would react like this—I knew you would do anything in your power to try and help me, no matter the cost. I knew, because I would have done the same for you, had I been in your place and you in mine. But there’s a difference between you and me, Jayce—and it is that you would stand a chance, while I just don’t. So please,” Viktor said, his head lowered, screwing his eyes shut as if begging Jayce to come back to his senses, “believe me when I say your reaction is disproportionate.”
Jayce could not believe his ears. “You think I’m overreacting? You’re telling me you don’t stand a chance and you think I’m overreacting?”
“In a way, yes, you are.”
“What am I supposed to do then? Just sit around and watch you—” Jayce pressed a fist to his mouth, too upset to continue. Saying the word out loud was impossible. “What’s the point of being the Man of Progress, of being your partner, if you won’t let me help you?”
“You’re already helping me.”
“Not in the only way that matters!”
“In the only way you can,” Viktor said, his voice suddenly firm. “In a way that matters to me.”
“But why? Why won’t you let me help you?”
“Because I don’t want to spend the short amount of time I have left on my own while you waste your time and energy on a lost cause,” Viktor said despairingly, the words rushing out as if they’d been bottled up inside him for a very long time. “And because I don’t want you to feel guilty over failing to save me after I’m—”
Jayce flinched; the unsaid word hit him like a blow to the heart, the pain so tangible he actually stumbled backward. The shock of it knocked the breath from his lungs, sent his mind reeling; and he found himself needing to press his hand against the wall to keep his balance as he felt his whole world crumbling down at the foundations because Viktor—his best friend, his partner—would soon be gone, gone, gone.
When Jayce came back to his senses, all he could see was his own pain mirrored in Viktor’s expression. Then Viktor looked up at Jayce and smiled—a sad, broken little thing.
“There’s nothing you can do,” he said apologetically, and Jayce’s heart, which he had thought well and truly shattered upon learning his best friend was dying, still managed to break further at that. “Nothing. You can’t save me, Jayce. And the sooner you realize it, the better. You need to accept it.”
Jayce blinked, the corners of his eyes prickling uncomfortably. “Have you accepted it?”
Viktor’s eyes drifted toward the horizon, and a strange, unexpected ache swelled in Jayce’s heart as his friend’s eyes softened, his lips stretching into a fond, wistful smile. “A long time ago.”
For a while, they stood in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As the sun was setting over Piltover, the light shifted, blazing the sky with vibrant hues of orange and crimson, with some purple clouds stretching lazily across the horizon. All over the city, the night lights were slowly turning on one by one, glittering like fallen stars. Jayce felt his heart grow heavier with each of them. It seemed impossible that the world could go on as it always did—that there could be people going on with their lives as though nothing were wrong, people who didn’t know who Viktor was and didn’t care what would happen to him.
Letting out a defeated sigh, Jayce walked to the edge of the cliff, standing on the very brink. His foot sent small rocks plummeting over the edge, and as he watched them fall, an overwhelming, gut-wrenching feeling of powerlessness gripped his heart like icy claws—the like of which he hadn’t felt since he’d been standing over the ruins of his old workshop, nearly four years ago.
Viktor had been the one to save his life back then.
It seemed so long since Jayce had met Viktor, on the day he’d lost everything: his life work, his lab, his patron, his place at the Academy, and the respect of his peers, all gone in the blink of an eye. It had been, without exaggeration, the lowest point in his life. Then, right when he had considered giving up on everything—including his own life—this reserved yet ambitious, talented, brilliant young man invited himself into his life, giving him back everything he’d lost and more.
Success. Fame. Recognition.
Companionship.
The latest was, without a doubt, the most drastic change Viktor had brought into his life. Before him, Jayce had never met anyone who understood him so perfectly, even among his peers or the people closest to him—like Caitlyn, the misfit Jayce considered his friend and (though he had never told her upfront) his little sister. But she was still a teenager, and though she definitely enjoyed assisting him during his experiments from time to time, she usually got tired of his lengthy theories about obscure scientific topics pretty quickly, and considered his work as nothing more than a fun distraction.
Unlike Viktor.
He had been the first to grasp the beauty of his work; the first, also, to truly understand Jayce’s motivations and goals, because they both became scientists for the same reason: helping people. The moment Viktor had given Jayce back the bracelet he always wore on his wrist as a reminder of his dedication to his work was the moment Jayce’s dream became Viktor’s. Together they had succeeded where they had failed on their own; and together they had stayed ever since.
Changing the world is the kind of thing that brings people together.
It suddenly struck Jayce how quickly he and Viktor had become friends. To the best of Jayce’s recollection, there hadn’t been a single day in the last four years where he hadn’t spent some time in Viktor’s company. If someone had told him, on that fateful day, that he would find a kindred spirit in the very man who had been in charge of dismantling his entire workshop and bringing him into custody, he would have thought them insane.
Now he could hardly imagine his life without him.
And it wasn’t only the mutual trust and understanding they had for each other—despite coming from widely different backgrounds—that Jayce appreciated about his friendship with Viktor. It was also all the little things that made it unique. It was their good-natured banter that never failed to happen whenever they were around each other. It was the addictive thrill of coming close to a breakthrough as they both strived to unravel the mysteries of the Arcane through a new experiment, and their irrepressible laughter filling the lab when said experiment blew up in their faces. It was the animated conversations at ungodly hours of the night about some very specific scientific concepts, or about nothing at all. It was the calmer, quieter moments in the morning, as they worked side by side in companionable silence.
It was how natural it was to be around him.
Had Jayce been a better friend—the kind of friend Viktor needed right now—he could have respected his decision. He could have accepted that Viktor was not long for this world, could have accepted that there was nothing he could do to save his life, could have accepted the unacceptable, the inevitable.
He could have.
Except he couldn’t bear the thought of a world without Viktor in it.
“Well I can’t,” Jayce said at last, his voice tightening with newfound resolve. “I can’t accept it. I won’t. Not in a million years.”
With his decision in mind, Jayce turned to face Viktor, chest out, shoulders squared, chin high, an expression of steely determination bordering on defiance on his face.
“I won’t let you die,” Jayce declared, and as he said the words, he could feel his new resolution take hold of every cell in his body, seeping into every damn atom and molecule that made him. Viktor would live. Jayce wouldn’t accept anything else. “I will save you. I promise.”
Viktor huffed, part amusement, part exasperation. Well, mostly exasperation, it seemed. There was this familiar, upward quirk at the corner of his mouth, the one he always had when he considered Jayce was acting, in Viktor’s own words, too Piltovan—which Jayce had since learned roughly meant ‘grandiloquent’.
It would have made Jayce laugh if the situation hadn’t been so serious.
“Please,” Viktor begged, his voice rasping. “Forget it. It can’t be done.”
“I’m not asking for permission.”
Viktor’s eyes widened. “Jayce…”
But before Viktor could say anything else, Jayce approached him and laid his hand on his shoulder—a motion so familiar it was as natural as breathing. Leaning heavily on his cane, Viktor simply stood there, his shoulders hunched, staring past Jayce with wide, glassy eyes.
“I’m sorry, Viktor,” Jayce said, gently squeezing Viktor’s shoulder. “I know this isn’t what you wanted to hear, but you’ll have to put up with me meddling in your life for a while. If it makes you feel any better, I would feel much more guilty about not attempting to save your life than I would about trying and failing to do so. The fact that you think you don’t stand a chance doesn’t change anything. There isn’t a single thing on earth I wouldn’t do for you.”
Viktor’s shoulders tensed at the words, and Jayce could feel his chest jump spasmodically under his hand as he suppressed a cough. The handkerchief Viktor was holding tight against his mouth was splattered in blood. The sharp pang that shot through Jayce’s chest at the sight only strengthened his resolve.
”You saved me once,” Jayce said, squeezing Viktor’s shoulder once again. “Allow me to return the favor.”
The coughing fit Viktor had been holding back finally broke through, and a strangled sound rose from his throat as he coughed heavily into his fist, shoulders shaking with each painful inhale. In an instant, Jayce had his arm wrapped around Viktor’s shoulders, rubbing soothing circles on his quivering back, but it did nothing to alleviate the coughing; if anything, it got worse. Viktor suddenly held out his palm between them, and Jayce instantly got the hint, backing away, watching helplessly as his partner coughed and gasped for air. After a few seconds, Viktor spat into his handkerchief; and the glimpse of glowing, fiery flower petals stained with blood sent a shot of dread in Jayce’s stomach, bringing a new sense of urgency that was impossible to ignore.
He has less time than I thought.
Jayce swallowed with difficulty.
He would be right to be mad at me.
But when Viktor looked up at him at last, there was no recrimination in his amber eyes, only a mixture of resignation, amusement, and a tiny glimmer of something else—something soft and warm and deep Jayce couldn’t put a name on.
“Always exaggerating,” Viktor said hoarsely. Despite his chastising tone, there was the hint of a crooked smile teasing at his lips. “I didn’t save your life. I merely… you know…” Viktor made a vague gesture. “... gave you another chance to prove yourself.”
“Always downplaying your contributions,” Jayce replied, using that same berating yet playful tone. “We both know that if it weren’t for you, I would have spent the rest of my days making hammers.” Or splattered across the pavement.
Viktor chuckled. “All right, then. I take back what I said. I definitely saved your life.”
Their laughter rang above the incessant rattling of machinery in the background.
The sky had now darkened to a midnight blue, and the street lamps, glowing and shimmering against the darkness of the night, had turned Piltover into a dazzling spectacle of light and fire. It was a spectacle Jayce had already seen countless times; one that failed to bring him any comfort tonight.
Instead, Jayce turned his attention to Viktor.
His eyes were closed. A wisp of wind was stirring his brown, tousled hair, the cutting edges of his cheekbones and jawline softened only slightly by some wild strands of hair fluttering in the light breeze. Then Viktor lazily opened his eyes, looking in the distance; and as the city’s glowing aura glittered in his amber eyes, bringing out flecks of gold and honey, Jayce suddenly wished he could freeze time at that moment, just to appreciate it longer. How many times had he and Viktor stood together, in this very spot? How many carefree moments had Jayce spent with his friend, taking them for granted, not realizing that his time with Viktor was running out more quickly than he could ever have anticipated?
Lost in the moment, Jayce took a long, deep breath, imprinting every detail of Viktor’s face, every mole and dimple in his memory… before reminding himself that there was no urgency. That they had all the time in the world.
They would live countless sunsets like this one together, because Viktor was going to live for a long, long time.
Then Viktor met his eyes, and although Jayce averted his gaze at once, it seemed as if his partner had read his mind when he spoke again.
“There’s a thin line between stubbornness and denial, you know,” Viktor said softly.
“Sure.”
“And I think you’ve crossed that line. Just in case that wasn’t clear.”
“I figured.”
“Though I do believe you can accomplish the impossible—I mean, you’ve already done it before—”
“I had a little help,” Jayce said, nudging his shoulder against Viktor’s.
Viktor huffed a breath of a laugh, then sighed. “Still though… curing me of this…” Viktor crumpled the bloodstained handkerchief in his fist. “This is no mean feat.”
“I’ll make it happen anyway.”
“Don’t push it too hard,” Viktor said in a deep voice. “Or you might get my hopes up.”
“That’s kind of the point.”
Viktor tensed, and for a moment, Jayce feared he was going to collapse into another coughing fit. Thankfully, after a few seconds, the line of Viktor’s shoulders relaxed.
“Are you sure you’re going to manage?” he then asked, eyeing Jayce suspiciously. “With everything we have to do for Progress Day?”
“Hey!” Jayce exclaimed, feigning offense. “I’m the Man of Progress, remember? I can handle anything!” Looking down at Viktor, he refrained from adding, And I have my priorities straight.
This time, Viktor coughed in a loud, deliberate way that sounded suspiciously like ‘Hexbot’.
Both men exchanged a sidelong glance—then shook with laughter.
“Still not calling it that.” Jayce grinned, amazed at the way Viktor still managed to make him laugh wholeheartedly despite the circumstances. “Besides, I thought we agreed on calling it the Great Steam Golem.”
“Oh, right. I think that was just before you agreed to bring me a good cup of coffee every morning for the rest of my life.”
“I already bring you coffee every morning.”
Viktor smiled impishly. “I said a good cup of coffee, Jayce.”
“Ha, ha. Really funny.” Jayce snorted as Viktor chuckled. “And to answer your question, yes, I’ll manage.” And if I don’t, to hell with the Council.
Viktor opened his mouth like he was about to argue, but Jayce cut him off. “Viktor, it’s fine. Really. Everything is going to be fine. We’ll sort it out like we always do. Together.” Jayce placed a comforting hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. You’ll live. I promise you that.”
And there it was again: that same glimmer of emotion in Viktor’s eyes, soft, warm, and so full of trust that Jayce felt himself falter for a brief moment.
“I’ll hold you to that,” Viktor said with an earnest smile. He gently tapped Jayce’s shoulder with the handle of his cane. “It’s getting late. Should we head back?”
And lose all those precious hours to sleep when he could research Viktor’s disease instead?
“I—I think I’ll stay up here a little longer, actually,” Jayce said evasively. “Just to—uh—enjoy the scenery.”
Viktor’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Right. Try not to stay up too late.”
“Not my style. I’ll see you tomorrow?”
“Like every day. Good night, Jayce.”
“Good night,” Jayce said. And as Viktor walked away, the characteristic tap, tap, tap of his cane echoing above the continuous clanking of machinery, Jayce couldn’t help but call out, “Hey, Viktor?”
Viktor turned. “Yes?”
A ripple of warmth fluttered down Jayce’s chest at the sight of Viktor standing there, leaning on his cane, oddly endearing in his pinstripe brown dress shirt and white vest, slightly wrinkled trousers, and creased shoes, with his wild brown hair and his lopsided smile. Words bubbled in Jayce’s throat, threatening to choke him.
I’ve got you. I’ll save you. I’ll always be there for you.
Instead, Jayce said, “How about ‘Mighty Hextech Behemoth’?”
He was rewarded with a wholehearted laugh that for some precious seconds made Jayce feel as if their lives hadn’t been turned upside down.
“Hopefully, you’ll be more inspired tomorrow,” Viktor teased.
“Hopefully,” Jayce repeated with a smile.
He watched until his partner turned the corner, then sat down and exhaled, head in his hands. He felt drained, exhausted. All he wanted to do was crawl in his bed and sleep until morning; yet he couldn’t afford to rest.
He had work to do.
He allowed himself a few more minutes to collect his thoughts, then stood up and spared Piltover one final look before heading straight toward the Academy.
His pace quickened as a new plan formed in his mind.
Go to the library. Borrow every book or published document that I can find on Hanahaki. Research and read them all thoroughly. Take detailed notes on anything that might seem of importance. Start from there.
And as his mind considered every possibility, every idea, every measure he could possibly take to cure his partner’s life-threatening disease, one stood out above the rest—one Jayce wanted to accomplish so badly it was almost visceral.
Make a list of all of the people Viktor might have feelings for. Find the person he’s in love with. Seize them by the shoulders and shake them until they return his feelings. Save Viktor’s life.
His hand closed around the bracelet he still wore on his wrist to this day.
Save Viktor.