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In his twenty-four years of living, Jayce can’t recall the last time he had felt so giddy. Over years of dealing with the dread of anxiety, feeling nausea was typical but the buzzing under his skin riled up by excited anticipation was nearly too much. As the young man crested down the stairwell, he nearly missed the bottom step. Quick reflexes kept him sturdy as Jayce slammed his hands between the stairwell's wall and the wooden bannister, keeping him upright. The stumble shook the railings enough for the poles to rattle before settling back into place.
“Jayce, please slow down. You’ll trip again.” His mother’s chiding tone called out from the kitchen doorway.
“I’m fine, mama.” Jayce called back to her as he let go from the stair’s railing. “Was that the doorbell?”
The wafts of fresh bread and powdered sugar drifted to the foyer along with Mrs. Talis’ response, “Oh, is he here?” She peeked her head out from the kitchen. A smatter of sticky dough had reached past her apron and landed on her cheek.
“No, not yet.” Jayce pushed his body past his mother into the kitchen. As his mother followed him back into the busy, warmed workspace, he strolled through the familiar kitchen to collect a dish towel. A careful hand swiped the scratchy worn cloth from its resting place on a lower cabinet's handle. As he damped the cloth under the sink, Jayce lifted his wrist to glance at his watch face. “But he should be here soon. I told him to come by at two.”
His mother faced towards him as she returned to her spot near the oven. The mess made from baking sweet bread was barely contained on one of the counter surfaces. The puffs of white flour had escaped against the cabinet's edges and over towards the stovetop. The leftovers of another sodden rag and a half-emptied cleaner bottle were trapped in the sea of flour and dough. The mess sent his nerves into a near overdrive. In a hurry, Jayce's mother was attempting to clean while the bread had been left in the oven, but with little success. Like the good son he was raised to be, Jayce dabbed away at the residual paste from his mother’s face, clearing up the mess that covered a mole on her cheekbone. He purposefully positioned himself in front of her as not to witness the chaos left in their kitchen.
"Thank you, dear." Mrs. Talis took the dirty rag from her son's hand and rested it onto the workspace. He clenched his teeth when the additional moisture just encouraged dough to form from the flour onto the discarded towel. As Jayce began to step out from the kitchen, his mother followed as she removed her flour-caked apron, “Do you think I have time to change? He won’t be upset about the mess, right?”
“No, mama. You’re fine.” Jayce whined out his attempt to reassure his mother. Before he reached his lookout spot of the front door, Jayce stopped his path back to the foyer in front of one of his mother’s decorative mirrors. The mirror hanged in the well-decorated hallway and was adorned over a shelf filled with family memories. With a careful touch, he readjusted his tie closer to his throat. Jayce couldn't reassure himself. He should be fine, it will all work out.
The past three months were full of changes to Jayce’s life. During the trial period to prove Hextech’s potential, the two scientists were required to work under supervision from Academy staff. Every morning, they met in their designated laboratory, which was a glorified storage closet in reality. The assistants didn’t want to spend their evenings in a stuffy closet but it was mandated to prevent any other illegal activities.
After the trial with the council, Jayce was expelled, meaning he would be unable to complete his studies and not able to meet Viktor on school grounds. The verdict was much better than being exiled from Piltover entirely in hindsight. The aches of grief for having his dream nearly ripped away were still fresh in his mind. It was better not to dwell on it.
With Viktor’s help, his ideas could be actualized. After the fantastical breakthrough with the help of his new partner, there was a real chance to bring magic to the world. The scientists bounced back their theories and scribbled away each detail for further test. Even with the work they could vocalize, the constant surveillance did hinder any actual progress.
A few days prior, as their assigned guard was snoozing away, Viktor suggested a brilliant idea. Getting work done in a private neutral space may be the next step to ushering in the next chapter of Hextech. Jayce offered the library but it was shut down after realizing the Academy’s helpers would be there also. Viktor’s place was suggested until he disclosed he still lived in a studio room within the student quarters. There wouldn’t be enough space for breakthroughs and the walls were paper-thin.
It was then decided that the Talis townhouse would be their meeting place indefinitely. It was a short trolley ride from the student dormitories and a quick walk from their makeshift lab. When Jayce came home to disclose the scheduled meeting, his mother then insisted on meeting the “lovely” Viktor. Every conversation leading up to the day was filled with questions from Jayce’s overbearing mother.
What is he like? Where is your friend Viktor from? What does he like to eat? Did you know each other from your classes? Does he like raspberries? Does he like cherries? Why don’t you know what he likes to eat, Jayce? Did I not teach you how to be a good host?
Every question was followed up with a brooding reply, though most were answered with “I don’t know.” Jayce and Viktor had been working together for such a brief time. Their conversations consisted of runes, equations, and shared advice. Their midday meals were either skipped or eaten in silence at their respective desks. Viktor would crack a very dry, quiet joke every once in a while and chuckle softly as he made Jayce laugh out loud.
They didn’t really talk about their lives outside of Hextech, not yet at least. This meeting in the most private of Jayce’s spaces would inevitably change that. Now that he had the chance to build a casual rapport with his partner, Jayce had to do his best to make sure everything worked out smoothly.
The night before, Jayce had spent hours toiling over the clothing he would wear for this occasion. Viktor had only seen him in his Academy uniform. At three in the morning, Jayce finally decided on a minimal navy button-up shirt, slate gray tie, and simple, casual tan slacks. The laced-up leather shoes he would wear out would stay by the door unless a quick errand needed to be done. The ensemble were neatly folded and left to wait on the top of his desk for the next morning.
After pulling out every article of clothing he owned, the space that would be their workplace was in disarray. Jackets, shirts, boxers, socks, everything had been strewn about in search for the perfect outfit. It would be up to Jayce to clean this in the middle of the night or else he wouldn’t get to it in time for Viktor’s arrival. The last thing he wanted his partner to assume about him was that he was a slob. His mother taught him right and he knows how to clean a room. Three turned into four, then five, until Jayce finally passed out at five-thirty, then waking up three hours later in a haze.
Now, a quick glance up and down his form did nothing to calm Jayce’s nerves. He looks stupid. This stupid outfit is too formal, like he's going to a cousin's wedding. The tightened tie was pulled away from under his collar, exposing the rigidly done top button. Jayce’s fingers carefully adjusted the button away, allowing a sliver of his overheating skin to breathe. The flared anxiety was not helped by the soft repetitive tapping against glass panes. The dove that lived in the townhome’s outdoor awning in the spring must be back to nest.
Dark hair was glided down with Jayce’s palm, trying desperately to herd a cowlick in with the rest of his locks. In the mirror, he got a glimpse of himself again. Jayce childishly had his tongue out in concentration, pinned between his lips as he had been running his flattened palm over his skull like he had been petting himself. He looked stupid.
“Oh, hello dear!”
The peppy greeting from his mother came from behind, near the entryway.
“Hello, Mrs. Talis. It’s very nice to meet you.“
A soft, familiar voice chirped away a practiced greeting. The fierce momentum Jayce used to face the front door could power a turbine. Did he miss the doorbell? How could he have missed that?
“It’s very nice to meet you too! Come in, come in please!” Jayce’s mother was holding the door open, gesturing an ushering arm out to their awaited guest.
As Viktor took his careful steps past the threshold, Mrs. Talis was hurriedly brushing her dress off. She did have the time to change. How did she manage to do that so quickly? As Jayce tried desperately to process, his mother's deep brown eyes shot a scolding glare at her son, “Jayce, be polite and say hello.”
Jayce couldn’t compel any part of himself to move. Viktor was here, in this townhome, standing on the rug on the floors of his house. He was here.
Instead of surveying the new space like he had the habit to do, Viktor had been looking at Jayce expectantly, standing still in the foyer. There were no efforts made to take off his coat or his shoes yet. His mother closed the door and broke the man from his trance by engulfing him in a hug owed to family.
“Ah! Mrs. Talis.” Their guest tensed immediately under the woman's embrace. “T-thank you. You have a, eh, lovely home.” Viktor’s pale hand offered a hesitant, overly proper pat to Mrs. Talis' upper back before going limp to his sides again. As Jayce’s mother released Viktor from her hold, she patted down his coat sleeves with a lilted hum. Viktor let out an inaudible sigh as his tensed shoulders lowered.
Watching the display explains a lot about how Jayce came to be. He had suspected that his habit for careless touches came from somewhere. It was strange though. His mother typically reserved those enveloping hugs for his aunts and uncles and cousins, not new acquaintances.
Once his mother realized the position she placed the man in, she backed away with a step and an apology, “I’m so sorry, I’ve just been looking forward to finally meeting ‘The Viktor.’ Jayce has told me so much about you!”
“It’s alright. I see where Jayce gets the affinity for hugs from.” Viktor offered her a sheepish smile as he bent to sit at the entryway bench. In between the laces being untied, Viktor still kept sneaking glances up to his partner in between his conversation with Jayce's mother.
“Aw, yes. Jayce just can’t keep his hands to himself. Got him in lots of trouble when he was little." His mother giggled from the old memories, "When he was little, he insisted on holding everyone's hand. It was a hard habit to break since he was just so precious!"
Once she paused to observe her son for a flustered reaction, her expression twisted in confusion over his odd stance. “Jayce, please come show your friend around. It's not polite to stare like that.”
Before he could react, she directed to Viktor once again, "I'll be right back, please make yourself comfortable." Soon enough, his mother was gone, leaving the two alone.
Right, he hadn’t moved. Jayce hadn’t budged from the end of the hallway, just stupidly paralyzed.
The leather oxford loafers were tossed off from Viktor’s feet. As he lifted his head to address his statuesque partner, he only commented on his lack of response, “Jayce, you look like you have seen a ghost.”
“Hi, welcome home! I mean-” Jayce threw himself out of balance. He blurted out his frantic correction, “Welcome to my home!”
“Thank you.” Viktor’s cane clicked upon the floor with his steps as he walked to meet Jayce. His view wandered to take in the large collection of family portraits and knickknacks. “So how long did you trifle with your hair?”
“I wasn’t. It was like this when I stepped out of the shower.”
“Jayce, there’s no need to tell a white lie. I saw you in front of the mirror.” His pale hand gestured to the gilded framed mirror hung near the stairs. Viktor made his observations apparent with a limp point towards Jayce’s neck, “You must have undid your tie then too. You never wear yours that loosely.”
“How? You weren’t even here then!” Jayce exclaimed, “And there’s nothing wrong with my tie.”
“There is nothing to worry about. Your clothes suit you fine, Jayce.” Viktor shifted his weight a bit as he looked Jayce up and down innocently, “Regardless, I saw you through the panes, through the door. I was knocking and you didn’t answer.”
His clothes suited him fine? Yes, Jayce would hope so. He picked it out just for him. The nausea was getting so much worse. Wait, knocking?
Jayce stumbled over his words, “Why didn’t you ring the doorbell like a normal person?”
“There was a doorbell?” Viktor’s previous mischievous façade lowered to show shy humility as he glanced back at the front door. He fiddled with the leather strap of his messenger bag, rubbing the material through his fingers to self-soothe.
Jayce let out an exasperated sigh, “It’s okay. Look, we can go upstairs and go over your notes. Let’s just go.”
“Jay-”
Viktor stopped in his tracks as Jayce’s mother emerged from the kitchen. With a pleasant hosting smile, she brandished an ornate teal and white tray. The older woman did her best to balance the tea cups and fresh steaming sweet breads. The tray was edged over into Jayce’s arms. Mrs. Talis called out to the scientists as if they were children at a sleepover. “These are for you two! If you want any more, I baked a few more than I had planned. I don’t want any of it to go to waste.” Mrs. Talis departed once again.
“Thanks.” Jayce’s nerves had settled but now his body was crashing. The smell of cinnamon and sugar overwhelming his nose only made his nausea worse. That was what was wrong with him, the sugar is too much.
“Is there somewhere where I could sit?” Jayce looked back to his partner after he spoke. The arm Viktor used to hold his cane and keep himself steady started to wane as they continued standing idly. His body swayed to his stronger leg, trying to relieve the pressure.
“I’m sorry! Sit in here.” Jayce pointed to the parlor.
With haste, Viktor made his way past the decorative dishware cabinets and collapsed onto one of the lacy covered sofas. As he decompressed his spine into the soft cushions, Viktor leaned his head back, exposing his neck from the stuffy layers of shirts.
“I have to apologize.” As his head rolled to meet his Jayce, now politely seated beside him and now depositing the tea tray on the coffee table. Viktor rubbed his temples, brushing his brown waves aside. “Sleep evaded me last night. I haven’t been sleeping well as of late and the lack of energy is catching up to me.”
As Jayce pushed aside a tea cup and a saucer of plated bread toward Viktor’s spot, he responded like a good polite host, “That’s fine. Rest here for a bit and then we can go upstairs and-”
“Jayce.”
Jayce turned his focus to his partner. As he stretched out his legs, with his feet hiding under the coffee table, Viktor rigidly flayed his arms out to address the braced leg, then relaxed them to his sides. “You forget that it would be an ordeal to go up to your room.”
Jayce had said nothing about his room, only up the stairs. He’s stupid. Of course, that would be the only place to meet. You can’t review runic combinations squatting in a bathroom or, god forbid, his mother’s bedroom.
Viktor paused as he waited for Jayce's answer, then timidly explained while staring towards the ceiling, “You wanted to meet in your bedroom, I’m assuming. I would have no issues with the prospect but you hadn’t mentioned stairs.”
“No, I guess I didn’t. Sorry.” In all of his attempts to be a good host for his friend and his partner, it was stupid that Jayce neglected to remember Viktor and his limitations. In their everyday routines, Viktor pushed through all of the difficulties or at least did his best to cover up the issues. However, Jayce had never had to see him deal with stairs. Their lab was on ground level and close to the facilities' main entryway.
Viktor faced him, lazily melting into the cushions. “It’s fine. If it were a better day for my body, I would have attempted to conquer the climb.” With a dramatic roll of his wrist in the air, he then monotonously teased, “Eh, albeit gradually, plus it would be interesting to see the way you decorate your private space. I just hope it's not as chaotic as your-”
Jayce's mind started to go blank. He stared at his clasped hands in his lap. Private space. Viktor in Jayce’s private space.
Well, Viktor was already in his home, private but his mother was still around so not entirely secluded. They had the lab but that was a public room lent to them for their work.
But the thought of Viktor in his bedroom… The bedroom would be a very, very private space.
“W-Well, it’s okay. We can stay down here. That’s fine. I’m sure my mother won’t mind.” Jayce stammers. His hands dart towards the porcelain tray and stuffs his face with bread, in a futile attempt to hide a faint flush.
Jayce must be getting sick, must have caught something. Everything feels hot and the ache in his stomach won’t go away. It's different from a pre-presentation jitter or having to speak with a professor after class. He didn’t sleep much, only two hours. That might explain his sudden ailments too. Just fatigued.
Viktor affirmed Jayce's suggestion with a lazy hum. After a moment of silence with the exception of Jayce's hurried chewing, the man then retrieved his bag and sat the thick burlap onto his lap. A collection of loose folders, crumpled papers, and a few notebooks were set out around the coffee table. The various pens and pencils were pulled out from the bag in Viktor's fist, then strewn about the coffee table's surface. Their most cherished notebook was last to be pulled out from the bag’s main compartment. Mindlessly, Viktor handed the notebook to Jayce, only for it to drop into his lap from Jayce's loose grip.
Viktor sat up and straightened out his back to the best of his ability. With a crack of his knuckles and a remarkably deep sigh, his lithe hands went to collect a folder that almost lost its contents. “Let’s start then.”
Viktor then faced Jayce once again, holding out a pen to the startled man. With a nearly imperceptible smile, the smaller man plainly spoke, “Thank you for offering your home to me, Jayce. It’s much better than having someone look over my shoulder.” The smaller man paused, then reached for his small drafting tin, “I’m looking forward to working with you here.”
Jayce’s illness melted his resolve, inflicting him with a dozing smile. He’s very thankful Viktor is not looking at him anymore. He must look stupid, he's barely said anything. It didn’t matter though. Viktor wouldn't really care if he looked stupid, did he?
In Jayce’s lap, the gifted pen rested on the cover of the notebook.
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too." Jayce’s finger idly drifted over the journal's raised metal decorations. "Do you want to come by again next Sunday?”
Viktor nodded his approval as he bit into one of the breads. A bit of the sugar crust snagged on his lower lip. After an assisting sip of tea, he responded, “Hm yes, that could work. Would your mother be willing to bake more of these next week too? They are delightful.”
Jayce nodded as he reached for a pen. He could bake them for Viktor instead. His mother’s recipes were easy enough to follow. It’s the least he could do for all of the help his partner had offered. His partner's sweet tooth might also encourage him to come back next week, and then the week after that, and even after that. Along with his numerous ambitions, becoming a good host would have to be added to the list.