Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There wasn't a note.

no piece of paper on the tile of his bathroom floor, no pen or writing in blood on the porcelain bathtub, nothing. he didn't want to leave a final message. he didn't want to make a grand exit. he wanted to go slowly, to die with no real way to show he lived. Viktor once dreamed of being famous, to beat the odds stacked against him. His disability, his upbringing, he had been dealt the metaphorical hand of nothing but pain. losing parents, people he adored, at some point it stopped being loss and just a memory. Another addition to an ever growing list of sick tricks the gods played on him.

So here he was.

Viktor, sitting on his bathroom floor. painkillers from old surgeries, anti depressants, even a few anti psychotics he was put on a few years back that he never took. whatever he could manage down his throat.

The pain was too much. His leg ached and screamed for relief. Viktor hoped to painkillers hit first, desperate for some sort of salvation, for the pain to stop and for his body to fail.

Suicide wasn't a new concept to Viktor. nor was it an unfamiliar face. He had stared death herself in the face, shook hands and had conversations with her. bone hands locked in Viktor's. He had grown oddly accustomed to the topic of the afterlife. He had Jayce's name in his will, everything he had. his cat, Rio.

Oh god, Rio.  

Viktor hoped the poor cat wouldn't find him like this. He should've fed her before doing this. It was an impulse. something he had to do. his mind screamed until he took the orange medication bottles into his hands. Shaking with pain and fear mixed into a  concoction beyond knowledge on how to recreate.

Viktor had more than once suicide attempt under his belt. Once he considered stepping off the tallest ledge he could find. legs dangled off the edge and staring at concrete.

He decided that would be too messy. He didn't want someone to have to clean up that. He didn't want Jayce to see that. He didn't want anyone to witness death in public.

then— he had tried opening a vein. With being thin it made it a little easier. He panicked and got help after that attempt. but this time was different. back then he wrote letters. notes. a message to show that Viktor lived. that he breathed through shuddering lungs and ribs that threatened to break inwards if he coughed too hard. a spine made more of metal than bone, a leg that cursed him in every language known to man. whispering obscenities just to taunt Viktor. to hate him. to show that Viktor could never get better.

he could feel the foam at the back of his throat, crawling up his esophagus as the bitter taste of pills stained his tongue. 

he swore he saw the world go black before feeling the hands— Jayce’s hands on his shoulders. shaking him in a way Jayce would never even dare to think of doing in any other scenario. a way that Viktor would smack the man with his cane if he was conscious enough to do so. 

but he wasn't this time.

“Come on, Vik! you can't just leave me like this. I refuse.”

the voice was echoed through Viktor's ears. Like a distant memory, or even a hallucination that Viktor wanted to believe in, that maybe Jayce was saving him. maybe. 

and he was.

that was evident by the hand reaching the back of his throat, gagging and sputtering up a mix of half dissolved pills and stomach acids, water he had washed them down with. tears staining pale skin, coughing up foam and— he couldn't really feel anything. other than pain. more pain than he'd ever been in before now. Was he dead? Was this his eternal damnation?

was suicide truly a sin that he had committed? one that Janna would never forgive him for?

the soft pats to the side of his face from Jayce's hands temporarily brought him back. enough to use what strength he still had to try and claw at Jayce, to push him back and to let Viktor die. to let him wither away and to decompose on this tile floor. He could hear Jayce speak indistinctly to what he assumed was an emergency number. Viktor could hear himself talking, but didn't know what he was saying. Jayce's voice asking him to keep talking, assuring him he'd be okay, he'd make it out of this alive. Even though Viktor didn't want to live through it. 

Another hurl of vomit came from Viktor’s mouth. Everything felt foggy. 

most of what he remembered felt like a dream. But, more of a nightmare. Jayce's arm around him and trying to keep him awake, being placed on a gurney and into an ambulance. He could only barely hear Jayce's voice, it sounded concerned. It sounded sad and worried. Panicked.

They let him in the ambulance, too. Jayce held his shaking, pale hand, bone and knuckles showed through the thin flesh. 

“ Come on, Vik… you know you could've talked to me. I'm here, I'm not leaving you, Vik. right here. I'm here. ”

He could tell Jayce was crying. or at least teary eyed. the way his voice waivered, the sound of soft sniffles with the ambulance siren acting as a background tinnitus in his skull. He wanted to puke. but his body wouldn't, or couldn't, conjure the fluids to push out. Maybe death would be better than this, than the purgatory he was in now.

“ Am I dying, Jayce? “ was the only set of words Viktor could properly get out, Jayce shushing him and brushing a hand through the dark chestnut hair, giving a smile that was only blurry to Viktor’s eyes. 

“ Keep your eyes open, Vik. you gotta be awake “

***

Viktor did not stay awake. Passing out in the ambulance but waking in a hospital bed, in a gown he had been put in, he assumed it was due to the puke on his clothes. The room was too cold, the bed uncomfortable and his mouth tasted like dirt. Bright lights staring down on him. A low noise from Viktor’s vocal cords strained to get the sound out. His throat scratchy, and he could hear the soft taps as Jayce bounced his foot on the tile of the floor, sounds of the monitor beeping at him, his own heart rate he assumed. Judging by how Jayce shot up from the chair to the side, he assumed his heart rate changed when awoke.

“ Vik- “

“ I'm gonna puke. “

“ please don't “

The interaction was short, and not very sweet before Jayce set a disposable blue bag, with a little white plastic part to keep it open up to Viktor's mouth. Where Viktor dry heaved for a couple minutes before stomach acids landed, a pathetic amount, honestly. Feeling a strong, calloused hand rest on his shoulder, and slink down to the base of the pale man’s neck. Right along his Th1 vertebrae, Viktor tended to tense at the contact so close to the jutting bones. His spine had made itself prominent through the back of the gown, where the room air made his hair stand up. 

As Viktor’s body calmed, his heart rate partially racing, which Jayce turned the volume down, probably so nurses would be concerned with the fact the overdose patient’s heart is pounding in his rattling bones. Jayce’s voice soothed out, carefully specked with gentle worry and words that slicked Viktor’s brain with honey.

“ Are you okay? “ The words were weighted, heavy. *no* He's not okay. By no means was Viktor okay, he just tried to kill himself. he absolutely wasn't okay. But Viktor knew what he meant, Viktor knew the words were focused on if Viktor felt alive or if he was still on the brink of death. Viktor wanted to cry, he wanted to sob and rip off the iv, remove all the monitors stuck on his body, he knew the adhesive would irritate him, most common adhesives did nowadays. Band aids would leave his arm itchy and red. While accidentally getting duct tape on his skin made his body reject intensely.

“ i am alive “

Was all Viktor could say without his voice shaking, he didn't know if it was from puking or the tears that filled the man’s eyes; threatening to spill, to paint his features with the shame that bubbled up Viktor's throat and painted his teeth with guilt. The feeling of disappointment, the worry he had disappointed Jayce. Did he mess up? Did Jayce hate him? Was he only here for some moral obligation to keep his place in the positivity of the afterlife? Would Jayce take care of the fuzzy ball of fur in Viktor’s apartment? Feed her the wet food in the top cabinet, would he kiss her head like Viktor would every morning? Or would he let Rio yearn for her father to come home? How would she sound when realizing her father isn't in the bed he left that morning? Sure, she was used to Viktor spending the night at the lab during the times of desperation for a project to be done. But Viktor always returned to give her food, kiss her little head and mutter soft words in Czech to the furball. A little white cat is just a bit over two years old now. A cat he had picked up in a dumpster near the lab one day.

“ I'm glad you're alive, Viktor. You- you really scared me, i don't think I've ever seen or heard you like that… “ Jayce’s words rung in his head, What the hell could Viktor have said? Viktor decided he’d ask later. The pale man already knew what was to come of this. A psychiatric evaluation, which would lead to a mandatory 3 day stay in a psychiatric hospital of his choosing, possibly longer. It happened with Viktor's attempt with the boxcutter in the lab. He was ashamed to say that Jayce found him then too. Hunched over his desk with blood pooling in his lap, watching his pulse as blood had soaked his clothes. Back then, Jayce didn't know the extent of Viktor's suicidality, honestly he still didn't.

The comfort that Viktor found in passive suicidality, the fact he’d be okay if a car hit him at Mach speed, or if a freak accident caused him to bleed out. Maybe a broken rib, internal bleeding was hard to come back from if he was alone. This was just another attempt. This was farther than he’d gotten in the past. The fact there were pamphlets for different facilities on a table to the side; That Jayce had obviously been looking through, trying to decide one that would be suitable for his partner. Oh god had Jayce introduced himself as Viktor’s partner? Did he know the connotations of that by now? Viktor assumed not, judging by their professional work being under *’Viktor & Jayce Talis’* with the assumption that Viktor also took Jayce’s house name. As if they were married with kids while working their mid 20s away in a lab with gadgets and failed inventions scattering the room. While Viktor let himself die slowly, maybe even speed up the progress.

“ I know you want me to talk about my feelings, i don't have the energy. Not right now. Is that okay? “ were the words that Viktor croaked. He felt like shit. Like discarded cigarette ash from expired tobacco. A taste that would burn one's tongue, paint his teeth in a dark black of rot. He knew he’d talk about his emotions with Jayce, eventually. Just not now. Not when the world still felt hateful. 

He took a long nap while Jayce held his hand. The pale bone of his hand held to Jayce’s mouth. He didn't dare kiss the soft skin, maybe from behind the mask of concern could Jayce pretend, even temporarily, that this was not love, not the yearn of reciprocated feelings and the hunger of wanting to see Viktor smile like he had while dying on the bathroom floor. The dopey grin while Viktor muttered things about death being soft, being kind and sweet while the world tried to rip Viktor apart, with malformed bones and muscle tissue that was built on nothing but the sugars of the snacks he indulged in on late nights. When everything felt like a dream. How Viktor told him, puke on his shirt and pupils the size of saucers, bigger than Rio’s when she’d hunt a bug in his dingey apartment.

“ I don't wanna die, I want it all to stop.”

Viktor’s eyes had held an admiration while on that floor, between sobbing and clawing Jayce away, insisting to let him die and decompose, let the neighbors complain about the horrid smell of the body below, where the chronically ill man had killed himself weeks prior. Or maybe he wouldn't decompose long, maybe rigor mortis before Jayce found him. Would Jayce follow suit? Would they die like lovers in stardust, pretending the tile floor was the expansive abyss of space, to pretend. Oh how Jayce wanted to pretend that Viktor and him were more. More than the back and forth glances, more than the food Jayce made when he knew Viktor went without breakfast or lunch, and dinner became a midnight feast for the man. Jayce had suspected the man had some sort of disordered eating habit, maybe anorexia? He read up on the disease when he left the lab one day. It didn't seem to fit the symptoms he saw in Viktor. Bulimia? Viktor didn't puke on purpose. He’d accidentally gorge himself and his stomach would remind him of the fact his appetite was larger than what could fit in his body. Jayce concluded it was just bad habits rolled into his chronic illnesses and medications that didn't really agree with him at times.

Against Jayce’s better judgment, he closed his eyes, pressing the bridge of his nose in the divots of Viktor’s fingers, kissing the back of his hand with a shaky exhale. That maybe this was a step in seeing Viktor get better, get him proper medications, to help him feel better. Jayce didn't want to have to find a dead body. He didn't want another near death experience. He had enough when he watched his mother greet death in a snowstorm. 

The repetitive beeping of the heart monitor made Jayce’s stomach crawl. It reminded him of where he was. This wasn't a love confession on one knee, this was holding the cold hand in his own, kissing skin of which was not made for him. Feeling bones shift with every movement. Nurses checking in now and then, they all assumed they were lovers, but they were worse. Oh much worse. 

Viktor stayed in the hospital for another day and a half, Jayce only left when the man was asleep to feed his cat, to assure her that her papa would come home soon. Jayce knew he was lying to the little creature; and Rio knew he was lying too. The way he would coo ’good girl’ under his breath as she ate. Jayce cleaned the bathroom, between crying at the memory of the fateful night he had to practically revive his partner- best friend. He took note of every empty pill bottle, of every medication, the doses, milligram after milligram, listed and prescribed to Viktor, even one prescribed for Rio from one vet visit a year and a half ago. An anxiety medication for the poor thing. It broke Jayce’s heart to see each bottle. Some weren't empty quite yet, he noted those down too. He wanted to address which ones Viktor took, which ones he needed to get refilled after this attempt, and ask if he needed Jayce to pick them up after he came home. If Jayce needed to put a lock on anything.

Was he being overbearing? Probably. He didn't want Viktor to die.

***

Viktor sat in a plastic chair, in clothes Jayce brought for him, the shirt being one of Jayce’s. The scent of his cologne, Viktor wasn't even sure the guy washed this before folding it up for him. He didn't have Jayce beside him now. Jayce had been told to go home, hug Rio, take her to the lab when he worked, to act as a caregiver for the feline, as he couldn't care for Viktor anymore. It was in the professional’s hands, much to Jayce’s strong dismay, trying to say Viktor was okay, maybe he could come home, maybe this stay wasn't needed. Viktor insisted it was mandatory, though. And Jayce wanted to argue, but couldn't find the strength when Viktor looked so out of it. So hollow. This wasn't the man that smiled in the lab when something worked, it wasn't the man he would side hug at gala’s Jayce forced him to attend. It wasn't the Viktor he knew. It was a shell. A man off any medications, in excruciating pain that he masked eerily well, and a knowledge of how the system worked. He knew he would sit here as he was now. Staring blankly as the room echoed. As he was asked the question-

”What made you want to commit this time?”

A sweet woman that reminded Viktor of Sky at some angles. How she would smile and the freckles cheeks. Her hair was different, though. Her eyes were different and she wore dark blues, no glasses. When his name was repeated, he came back to speaking. Admitting the truth.

He did not know.

He just wanted it to end. When asked what it was, he said, the metaphorical and literal pain. His bones ached and his spine creaked like an old door with rusted hinges, his body was not a temple, but the haunted house on the corner, that people will nickname ’the murder house’ and spray paint graffiti on the outer walls, claiming some propaganda that Viktor didn't like, a claim on a body that no longer felt worth anything more than a penny and a sob story. Who was he anymore? The woman explained some things. How since they couldn't accurately view some of his medical history, he’d be off medication of all types, save for Tylenol or ibuprofen that had to be taken in front of a nurse and have his tongue shown to make sure he swallowed it, he had to wear shorts or put his leg brace on top of his sweat pants, his back brace was more lenient, he could keep it on, until bed time.

When all threats were taken from him. No cane, no aids for him to have in his room. Clothes with no strings, no sharp objects. He couldn't even have the hair tie on his wrist. It was isolating. On the 3rd floor of a tall building, with plain walls and a floor that was mostly wood or tile. Uncomfortable chairs and couches. Patients like himself for a whole heap of things. Suicide attempts like himself, self harm, depression. Others for things like manic or depressive episodes correlating with bipolar disorder.

For now, he sat in his room. The bed was small, the mattress was pathetic, if you could even call it that. It felt like a gym mat at best. Scratchy blankets. His eyes out the window. The city looked nice when it was up high. He had to admit, he did sort of want to jump out the window. But obviously the place thought ahead. Bolted closed, with a set of blinds to be controlled by a little knob between two thick sets of glass. This felt more like a prison.

He was given some special treatment. Extra time to shower, given higher calorie meals due to the clear underweight status of the man. The smell of Jayce’s t-shirt soothed him just slightly. To smell Jayce, have some sense of safety within the room that felt like prison. Brushing his fingertips along the bone in his ankle, massaging at the pain.

Jayce on the other hand stood in Viktor's quiet apartment, holding back tears and looking around. Little marks on the floor from the gurney the paramedics rolled through his apartment, the unfinished sandwich on the kitchen counter that Rio obviously helped herself to after the apartment was emptied.

This was going to be a long two weeks, wasn't it?

Chapter Text

The night that Jayce had found Viktor was one of the scariest things. He knew that Viktor was delusional, considering there had been one text from Viktor before Jayce used his spare emergency key to get into the apartment, one message that set off alarm bells in Jayce’s head. Well, it had been a set of events, he supposed. First, his workaholic friend hadn't gone to the lab when he had claimed he would, then didn't text, didn't call. 

Except one, Jayce assumed shortly after the man shoved half the pills in his mouth. A moment of authenticity. Of the medication that wracked Viktor’s mind and body.

‘ will u feed Rio ? ‘

Simple. Innocuous. A normal request in any other circumstance. Although with Viktor, if he wasn't at work or in a hospital, he would take care of the feline. How the cat would chirp at him at the same times every day, pampered with little sweaters that Ximena had made for her. Viktor asked nicely, and the woman couldn't deny the man that sliver of joy it would bring. Viktor also made sure to always send pictures when a new one would be given to him. Once, the woman had made matching sweaters for Viktor and Rio. The man wasn't the type to wear pink, but he did when it meant matching with his cat. 

Jayce knew that the Czech man would do anything for that little creature. It was the softest Jayce had ever seen him, talking in a baby voice to her when he found her. At first they both thought she was a grey tabby by the grime on her, after a bath she was pure white. Pink nose and paw pads, matted fur that Viktor took care of, and called her ‘naked baby’ for a little while before her fur grew in enough. 

It worried Jayce. But, he did as asked. Going to the apartment, stepping inside and feeling his heart sink. He hated the feeling, an invisible scent of sickness that washed through the apartment. Viktor always kept the place warmer than most; tonight it felt freezing. Rio meowing and circling at the bathroom door. Rushing to Jayce once spotting him.

Jesus, Vik, what’d you do?

When he saw the sight, the pale man leaned against the edge of his bathtub, it was almost aesthetic. Pill bottles and the lighting from the window above the showerhead, moonlight streamed and landed on the curves of Viktor’s face, amber eyes drowned out by dark pupils. His Viktor paler than usual. Hands shaking with an intensity that terrified Jayce to his core.

Oh, Vik. Viktor. My Viktor.

Viktor wasn't his, but he acted like it in the moment. 

He didn't care about the puke that would later stain his clothes, the slime of Viktor’s saliva while sobbing and begging Jayce to just leave. Feed Rio and leave. Even while dying he held a reverence for the sweet feline. As if she was his next of kin, to inherit everything Viktor owned when he died in this painful, stomach churning way. 

When Viktor was admitted to the hospital, Jayce decided to take care of the apartment. He didn't plan on working. Mel said she understood, Sky did as well. Mel knew the intricacies of Jayce's affliction towards Viktor. The way he’d smile when rereading Viktor’s notes during meetings, or the glint in the man’s eyes when he talked about his lab partner. The woman knew Jayce was smitten, even after their brief relationship, which Jayce later admitted made him come to terms with the label of being bisexual. She didn't take offense to that, if anything it helped their professional relationship going onwards.

The first night, Jayce fell asleep in Viktor’s bed. Surrounded by the smell of Viktor’s laundry, the whisper of coconut from Viktor’s shampoo. Coupled with the remnants of a candle Viktor had lit the other day. It was a comfort he wasn't used to. This wasn't normal, and Jayce had never slept in Viktor’s bed; but he never wanted to go back to sleeping on his own anymore. Gentle snoring from the feline stirred his brain back into the morning light. Soft white fur sprawled out across the bed, Jayce now knew what Viktor meant when he said Rio took up half of the bed all on her own.

Dragging himself from the bed with a low grunt, Rio chirped as the weight shifted. She had a routine, one she was used to, and one that Viktor had briefed Jayce on a long while ago when Viktor was in the hospital for a lung infection. She got wet food most days, Viktor pampered her quite often. She was his baby, at this point. 

Trudging himself into the kitchen, instinct as he opened a cabinet to take the tin with some cat food brand on it. Jayce had never been interested in pets. Rio was the closest he had to one, honestly. The soft pitter patter of her paws seemed to be instant as Jayce opened the food for her.

“ you were just asleep, how did you even hear that? “ Logically Jayce knew the cat didn't understand the English language, he wasn't sure she knew much of anything half the time. Her soft meowing as Jayce moved around the kitchen, her head butting into his muscled arm, trying to earn the food from him in some way. Jayce found it sweet, nonetheless. Deciding to pretend she wasn't just interested in the food he had for her. But he knew it was, since the moment it was placed in her small, pink and white ceramic bowl, he was not even on her radar. 

***

The first night in any hospital like this was awful. Being woken up in the middle of the night to give a piss sample and have blood taken. He was lucky enough to have some help walking down the hallway, as a girl, seeming younger by a handful of years from Viktor himself, introduced herself as ‘Jinx’ and let the man rest a hand on her shoulder with each step down the hallway.

“ They haven't been able to get my vein since I was admitted. Apparently I got shy veins. This always happens with me in here, though. “ she had spoken, gaining a low, tired hum from Viktor. The familiar wounds on the girl's arms were the telltale sign she knew her way around this place, this stay wasn't new to her, she walked with a confidence that Viktor admittedly admired strongly…

Her hair was long, sectioned in two long braids that faded out at the ends. Unable to keep a hair tie to have the braids secured. Nails painted blue and pink, chipped polish and a string of tattoos that decorated her body and arm on one side. Blue clouds, she had told him. Significant to her. A loss of life, or friendship, or even relationship. Her parents, her adoptive father, her sister, adoptive brothers. Loss that Viktor held similarly, not of the same genre, but of the same heavy list. She also explained her name, how it was once a nickname, but now it just feels right. None of the staff here called her by the name on every medication bottle or legal form, she said that it didn't end well back during her first stay, ranting about her old self, how that little girl she once was, was dead. Gone, and didn't exist anymore. That her sister made ‘Jinx’ , whether she knew it or not now.

The girl had helped Viktor back to his room once his blood was taken from an already decaying body. Even when the technicians scolded her for going down the hallway, farther from her room, she didn't seem to really care much about that though. Viktor was appreciative, he hoped he didn't seem as cold as he felt.

Being woken up at 7 am sharp, his body ached and he just wanted to sleep, sleep off the cocktail of medications, and stay in the warmth of the blankets. Take in the sterile scent of the bed while yearning for the feeling of being at home. In his bed, with his cat, in clothes that didn't smell of the facility. Brushing his teeth felt like a chore, the yellowed bones in his mouth, his gums bled as he brushed his teeth. Spitting up the mix of mint toothpaste and metallic blood in his mouth. He didn't want to be here, he wanted to call home, call Jayce. Tell him to come pick him up, come see him, anything. He knew Jayce would if he asked, he’d rush to his side. Hold Viktor up and smuggle him out of that evil hospital.

Viktor knew not to ask, for that reason.

He felt the stares as he sat in a chair in the room, they nicknamed it ‘The Day Room’ , windows on a curved wall, and seats against the walls. A large rug in the middle. The Nurses station held windows to keep eyes on the collective patients. Viktor’s hands working delicately to set the leg brace on, soft clicks of the metal resting in place. His cane was handed to him by the same blue haired girl, a smile on her face.

“ they told me to give this to you. This why you were leanin’ on me last night? “

Viktor couldn't feign the smile that brushed his features, a nod of confirmation before he spoke. “ Yes, yes. I'm sorry if it came off weirdly onto you last night, i didnt mean to invade your space. “ he explained, a hand massaging at his knee, the pain already coursing through the ligaments and joints, the invisible muscle spasms that wracked the limb. 

“ Hey, no worries! I got my own set’a issues. It isn't some big burden that is gonna get in my way. I'm young, ‘springy’ according to a friend back home.” she answered. Sitting beside Viktor with a dramatic huff into the seat. Sweatpants in purple and pink stripes, and a crop top that showed her tattoos once more, hair still braided, mostly. Apparently the girl’s current adoptive father braided it for her, every time he visited her. Today was that day for her. She seemed in good spirits, which was a little unnerving to Viktor, but he assumed it was probably one of her mental illnesses. Was that offensive? To chalk this girl up to an illness she may or may not have? Whatever. Viktor knew how it felt to be profiled, anyway. 

Breakfast was mediocre, Viktor having been given extra, even though he repeated his body could not handle it sometimes. They didn't care, and took note of what he didn't eat. Jinx had slid him her muffin, she never liked the pastries they gave. Viktor had a sweet tooth too bad to deny the offer. It also felt like a peace offering, one to show she understood. She walked beside him when they would change scenery to the day room, or the dining room. He wasn't allowed to go on the balcony, she wasn't either after the attempt that landed her in here. So they drew together. With old markers and crayons that were half broken. Viktor drew his cat, drew his Jayce. While Jinx drew her dad, her friends back home… what she could remember of her old family. Of her childhood. Of a little girl that she called Powder. The same striking blue hair that made Viktor guess it felt like a separate identity, a different person entirely to her. But the girl that Jinx was before becoming… well, Jinx. She laughed when Viktor drew his own adoptive father, from his own childhood; but softened when Viktor drew what he could remember of his own parents, before their untimely demise. To share that trauma on such a close level was one that made being in a place like this a little more bearable…

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Maybe this would be more than just sterile days of dissociation at a wall while pretending he was back home.

***

Afternoon came, and Jayce dragged himself to visit Viktor, afraid almost. He didn't know how the man would look, if he’d hate him, if he would be happy to see him. If Viktor would be in so much pain he could barely speak. He didn't know, and the not knowing scared him more. Sitting in a room with his hands fidgeting on the table. Clasped together as he waited for them to bring Viktor to see him. It felt more like a prison, how did this place make people better? Would it even help Viktor in the slightest?

Brought out of his spiralled thoughts as the familiar tapping of Viktor’s cane rang through his skull. A smile on his features soon after the man came into his view. He got up from the table without a second thought to put his arms around Viktor, bury his face into his neck and take in his scent. He didn't smell like his Viktor. He didn't smell of anything that soothed Jayce. He didn't smell like himself. What had they done to his boy? The gentle, careful hands that moved to rest on Jayce’s back, a thumb brushing over his shoulder blades. Viktor could feel the man’s muscles release, lean and exhale from Jayce’s lungs as Viktor returned the affection. Although, as awful as it felt to admit, Viktor felt his chest tighten, and the urge to shove Jayce away and hiss obscenities at him. Scold Jayce for not letting Viktor die on his bathroom floor, it was selfish, a sinking feeling in his gut that Viktor didn't know how to properly convey without subconsciously guilt tripping the man embracing him. 

Being directed to sit, a little table by a window, Viktor pulling his good leg up to his chest in the chair, he could feel Jayce’s concerned gaze on him, wanting, needing Viktor to look at him. Viktor wouldn't indulge. He wouldn't break, he wouldn't look at him. He couldn't, a betrayal in the brain riddled with mental illness. A hand reached forward over the table, but Viktor pulled away. Almost on instinct, and the sound of Jayce breathing made the guilt rise up his throat, rushing his spinal cord and igniting the flame in his skull. 

“ Vik, look at me. “

The words hurt, painful and full of thorns in Viktor’s throat as they were received. Processed through his skull, “ I don't want to. You made me live. I didn't want to. “ Viktor choked out, his voice wavered and his bones felt as though they rattled in his body, held together by the slowly worn down ligaments and tendons. The air felt cold, colder than it was before. The sun beaming through the window didn't help, the orange hues didn't warm the pale skin. It only made him desire the outside, the sun on his face and wind brushing him oh so sweetly, embrace him in a way that Jayce one did.

“ Viktor, you tried to kill yourself… I have every right to be worried, to be scared and to want you to live. For Rio, for me. I just didn't want to have to plan a funeral. “ Jayce’s tone shifted, more sweet, more firm and concerned. Near accusatory. He wanted to know the intricacies of Viktor’s brain, to hold him and scold him for ever picking up the bottle of pills in his medicine cabinet the scowl that brushed Viktor’s features, eyebrows knitting downwards as he bit his tongue, keeping himself quiet as he stared at the city outside. He couldn't look at Jayce. Not now, not today, not yet, anyway. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next week. Maybe never. He knew it was selfish, to crave suicide like water in a drout.

“ This isn't about you. I am in pain, Jayce. It hurts, everything. Took me off my pain medications to detox my system, I'm not allowed to have my cane or leg brace in my room. The showers are not accessible for someone in my position. You have no idea what it's like. Not a single thing, so quit acting like you know it. As if you are living behind multiple locked doors, having to ask to go to the bathroom like a child. “ Viktor’s voice was low, quiet. Scratchy almost, again a cause from every time Jayce had put his fingers down Viktor’s throat to get rid of the poison in his mouth…

Jayce’s eyes widened, worry and sadness creeping up his throat. Eyes wet with a layer of tears, threatening to drip onto the table. Threatening to splash and force Viktor to see the guilt, the shame and fear he held for him. Fighting the urge to tell Viktor he loved him, to take his hands or hold his face and tell him he loved him with every part of his being, to kiss him here and now with salty tears as lip gloss.

But he couldn't, and he wouldn't. To give the man his own privacy, and assure he could get better, and not spiral further. 

Their time for visitors ended, Jayce moving to try and help Viktor stand, shoving the hands off of him with a glare. To say it broke Jayce’s heart would be an understatement, it shattered, fiberglass stabbing every artery, pressing on his lungs and feeling mold grow in his chest, moss covered bones and rot in his stomach. He stayed staring as Viktor was directed back to the other room. It hurt. He needed a fucking drink.

Hearing the blue haired girl's voice brought Viktor out of the mental turmoil, bringing him the reminder that other people existed. She seemed happy, upbeat, and youthful. Her hair freshly braided from skilled hands, as she explained, from her adoptive father. An older man by the name of Silco, he cared deeply for the girl, Viktor assumed. Visiting her whenever possible.

“ Was that your little boyfriend, Vikki? “

The nickname was new. Usually Jayce had some shortened version of his name to use, most commonly just the first three letters, but sometimes just the first initial; ‘Vikki’ was absolutely new to him, though. For a moment he almost didn't reply to it, not recognizing it as himself. Even if he did, he assumed no one could really ignore Jinx in any form. Her personality bubbling over at times.

“ no, it was not. I'm not the type to date, anyhow. Jayce is a lab partner. Put his fingers down my esophagus to keep me from killing myself. “

“ kinky. Nice. “

“ Excuse me? “

The shock in Viktor’s expression at the girl's comment made her giggle, rolling her eyes and nudging him, assuring him she was joking. Even though Viktor knew she was, it still caught him off guard, without a doubt. For a moment Viktor almost wanted to imagine it in a more… kinky manner. Imagining Jayce whispering sweet nothings with his hand around Viktor’s-

Okay, wrap it up.

***

Jayce got a little overzealous that afternoon, texting Mel and saying he was going out to drink, she told him to be safe, to keep his dick in his pants and to not cry to the bartender, they don't care. Jayce knew that by now. His ailments were nothing compared to those Viktor held, the disability, his mental health constantly fighting against him, Jayce wouldn't pretend to know, to understand the pain in Viktor’s system. Instead, he held his own. Made his own pain worse, just to feel like maybe he could have salvation, pray to a god he wasn't sure existed, beg his mama for forgiveness, even if he hadn't done a thing wrong. Pretending his sin was on display, sitting at a bar with a drink in front of him. The buzz of background noise felt like white noise. Almost comforting if he didn't think too hard about it. The glass of whiskey in front of him held his focus. Considering if he even should drink tonight. Was this too far? Was this too pathetic, even for Jayce’s usual standards? He should be at home, he should be feeding Rio; and he should be revisiting the suicide letter in his bedside table. Maybe he could get himself landed in there, force Viktor to talk to him, to look at him and see the same man he did that night when he stopped him from jumping the first time. Should he stand on a ledge like he once did? Laugh in death’s face and curse it for sending him such a gorgeous man that didn't even want him back, send him to save Jayce. Save him from himself.

He couldn't help but want god to take Viktor back, while also never wanting to let go. Hold on tight and dig claws into Viktor’s flesh to keep him bound to him. Downing the drink and letting the glass hit the bar top with a clink and thud. His throat burned, but a small price to pay for shutting his brain up, to shut down the desire and need for his lab partner. He hoped Viktor was having an okay night. A night that wasn't full of misery like Jayce’s. Hopefully the man made friends, hopefully Viktor didn't hate him.

After a few too many drinks, and calling Mel and pathetically asking her to pick him up, he sat in her car, crying like a child in her passenger’s seat between hiccups and back and forth mood swings. She dropped him off, fed Viktor’s cat while Jayce beelined for the bed in Viktor’s room, to cry into the sheets and grope at himself once Mel left him alone in the apartment. 

He was ashamed when he woke up the next day, half past noon and a hand down his pants. He didn't like not having Viktor. Viktor wasn't even his, and yet he missed him. The smell of him, and the way he knew Viktor was close by with the soft taps of his cane on the floor of their lab, even in Jayce’s apartment at times. He missed his smile-

Stomach acids forced him out of bed to spit up alcohol from the night prior, Rio crying at him for food, for attention, he didn't know which. Maybe he was traumatizing the poor cat. 

He was a mess without his Viktor. How pathetic, he thought.

Chapter Text

Viktor picked at his dinner, staring at it while some kids' movie played on a big tablet-like screen in the dining room. The food felt like plastic, the girl across from him slid him some off her plate, she said she didn't have much of an appetite, and Viktor seemed to need the calories more. 

“The food sucks.” Viktor grumbled. He could feel his brain shift, feel the detox truly reeking havoc on his brain, his hip ached, spine rushing and throbbing with a pain he hadn't felt in years, one he remembered fondly as a child; back then it felt like proof he was living. This time around, it felt like his body was taunting him, laughing in his face while showing him what he could've been. 

“don't’cha get some extra snacks for meds? they dish out some goldfish crackers when I need to take something with food” Jinx chimed, lips shifting into a pout, genuine confusion and concern in her expression, painting her features. She had previously been going on about her visit with her father. How he told her about how things back home were, braiding her hair with intricate fingers. Telling her he loved her, kissing her head and reassuring her she was perfect the way she was, no matter what facility they bounced her through.

Viktor was envious of that. of having love so genuine and deep rooted. Viktor held resentment for his own father. the one that took him in, kept him and peddled such depraved ideologies through an impressionable head. Singed.

Jinx and Viktor trauma bonded over dinner, Viktor was quiet most of the time, eating and forcing food down his esophagus, to probably hate himself for later— but the technicians seemed pleased with every bite he took.

The two had more in common than Viktor once thought. Singed and Silco held previous friendship, but the two mentally ill folk never interacted. half due to Viktor having ditched home before the girl was introduced to that life at all. Viktor claimed he probably wouldn't have liked her.

He didn't like kids back then. disgusted him, although made from pure envy. The jealousy of able bodied kids, his age and much younger. Running around, laughing at the world while Viktor sat idle with a book he didn't really even like at all. Reading page after page of ‘The Great Gatsby’ and being praised for the bare minimum academic achievements. Janna above forbid if he got perfect marks. Singed wasn't ever truly impressed with his grades, claiming he could do better, reach for better.

“No, ah, I was taken off my medications, detox my system or something. Apparently that's what I get for trying to overdose. The pain I have is immeasurable” Viktor managed. Sliding his plate away from him. Jinx had already moved to stand, taking the leftover trash and handing over the plastic spork to the woman watching over the dining area. Viktor was quite appreciative of the gesture, it seemed second nature to the girl. To help him without thinking; and for once it felt not like pity, but friendship. Similar to Jayce’s actions in the lab, not pity and not because it was an obligation he had to adhere to, but simply because it was second nature. Jayce had become used to Viktor's limitations, learned his favorite foods and what helped on the bad pain days, massage his failing limb and brush thumbs over his knee cap with a careful reverence that made Viktor wince and whimper at times. 

Viktor always pretended to ignore that Jayce had a pressing erection every time Viktor made a sound of relief or pain, while Jayce ignored the way Viktor’s face flushed red while staring at his groin. 

Jinx and his dynamic was clearly different. Viktor had no interest in women, or someone so much younger than himself. Even if it was only a handful of years, Viktor’s brain was set on Jayce either way. His focus drifting and being reminded of the man, oh Jayce. He was mean, hateful and aggressive to Jayce when he visited, did Jayce hate him now? Viktor swore to kill himself properly if Jayce did hate him. Suicide scheduled for when he got home, after kissing Rio’s head and dropping her off at the lab. She didn't need to see the mess of her papa’s corpse painting the apartment, Viktor didn't want her to have to resort to the consumption of human flesh, bite through his corpse but wail as he wasn't there to warm her fur lined body.

He chalked the morbid ideas and thoughts to the fact he was off his meds, maybe he deserved death, that was a thought for later, he chose. It was one of those topics that Viktor would revisit in his sleep, like deep rooted paralysis, never to feel relief of his own brain and to be forced to let it infect like a parasite too far gone to remove. He felt sick if he thought too long. He was glad to be saved from the guilt in his stomach. Jinx’s hand resting on his shoulder, instinctively attempting to flinch away from it, but she was stubborn, he found.

“C’mon, Vikki. We gotta do some journaling shit and bedtime” she reminded him, helping the man to his feet, even when staff consistently reminded her to keep her hands to herself, and to quit touching people; especially someone of the opposite sex as her. 

She ignored it each time. Viktor thanked her under his breath each time. 

They were given a prompt that night, one that had Viktor staring blankly at the page and questioning how to express the feeling the words roused in his stomach.

 ‘What does living mean to you, with positives and negatives taken into account?’

Viktor didn't know.

He let his brain shut off and his hand write out words he hadn't unlocked before now. The marker in his hand a deep shade of blue, against the off white notebook page.

‘Pain. resentment and a certain form of self disgust I haven't truly discovered yet. Maybe it's morbid, or even nihilistic of me, but I don't see a genuine point. A genuine reason, my genetic code at its core is against me, pressing on injuries that no surgery could heal. My spine is decorated with metal that sent me spiralling in physical therapy that also didn't work. Is it pathetic? To forget the little boy I once was, just because pain has superseded it? Meanwhile I do find a certain care, worry and near fear for those i would leave behind if i pulled the metaphorical or literal trigger. Paint my white walls a lovely crimson red of my blood and grey spotting of brain matter. Maybe my Jayce would find a corpse, or Sky. Either would never forgive themselves. Mel wouldn't either, I don't think Singed would find the urge to care for me, the man never truly showed the affection a young boy needed from him. I only live for the hope that I'll see Jayce succeed. See him on the big stage or kiss him until our faces hurt from smiling or feel his calloused hands-’

He scribbled out the next two sentences that he wrote. Realizing he didn't exactly want these people reading his innermost sexual desires that bubbled through his bones. That was a conversation for he and Jayce to advise if it ever got to that level between the two of them.

He handed over the notebook to a woman at a small table near the front of the day room, he was briefed once more on the nighttime rules, as if he could forget them in the first place, all the rules were repetitive, shoved in his brain and Viktor could already feel his brain melting to adhere to their demands of him.

He was given one towel, and one washcloth, white in colour and a rough fabric. Scratchy on Viktor’s skin.

He was careful as he removed his leg brace while sitting on the edge of his bed, a change of clothes set beside him, winding down to shower. He dreaded it, really. He tended to shower consistently. Daily. Obsessively at times, near terrified of being perceived as unclean. To be seen as gross or smell bad, or even look too disheveled. It made anxiety creep up his throat. His anxiety overrode the dread of having to stand without his cane or leg brace for a shower, one that he had only approximately 7 minutes to complete. With 3 in one soap and a miniscule condiment cup of lotion. Viktor knew he’d probably bathe for hours once back home, this place felt gross, he couldn't explain why. 

His hip screamed at him in the shower, standing under water that was probably hot enough to be considered self harm, or at least an attempt to boil himself like a suicidal crab. In the moment they felt one in the same, if he was honest. Water that found each divot of his ribs, painting his skin with the steam that curled around the small room. The door cracked open, which led to his room, he wasn't allowed to keep the door fully closed. Jinx wasn't either. For very different reasons, though… Thin hands raked through chestnut hair, water drops falling from his bottom lip as he melted under the heat. When he left the warm comfort of the shower, he leaned his weight against the bathroom sink as he brushed his teeth, drying out his hair before looking at himself. Really looking at himself. His eye bags prominent with his cheek bones as an identifying feature. He forced a smile at his reflection, the mole above his lip carefully slipping into the weak smile lines that only formed after he met Jayce. the bruise from the IV on one of his inner elbows, while on his opposite hand had a bruise along the back of his joints. That one was caused by the nurse’s attempt to get his blood. He was glad she succeeded after the first couple tries.

He felt like shit. 

Truly, like rotting apple cores from his bedroom floor a few years back when the pain was unbearable he couldn't leave his bed. His name was called from the hallway, getting a groan of frustration at the hypervigilance from the staff. Logically he knew the purpose. To keep Viktor alive. 

Setting the small cup of lotion on the windowsill of his room, they wouldn't check his room. They didn't care that much, at least. Give the man some semblance of privacy in a place where he was stripped of it. Loose shorts and the same, Jayce-smelling shirt as he left the room, walking with his cane in one hand and his leg brace having been put on in a half-assed manner. The aids set on a table, it hurt to be stripped of them. Metaphorically and literally. 

“May I wait for Jinx? She is kind enough to walk with me back to my room. It's difficult without these.” the man muttered to an older woman, a tablet in her hands and barely even looking at Viktor before she gave a grunt, one that Viktor assumed meant she didnt give a fuck what he did and didnt do. You’d think she would, but, apparently not.

When the girl did leave her room, it looked like she barely even got her hair wet. Flashing a smile at her new buddy, Viktor wasn't sure how someone so excitable as her had decided to make Viktor her next friendship victim. He wasn't necessarily complaining, though.

“You got nasty bruises there, Vikki. On your leg. From your brace?” she queried, eyebrows furrowing and face contorting into the familiar half-pout. Viktor nodded, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as she guided him, her hand ghosting over his mid back, occasionally pressing against the space if Viktor had stopped for a moment too long. A motivation for Viktor to take another step, and to remind him it wasn't that much farther until his room. “I have scars, too. Ah, not as visible, but knee surgery a few years back. Jayce helped with my recovery.” Viktor’s tone betrayed his anger that he held earlier with the man. A fondness that Jinx clocked pretty seamlessly. Snickering at his subconscious yearning for this man.

The doorway to Viktor’s bedroom was reached, and Jinx stood there, watching as Viktor did the last handful of steps to his bed. Her eyes flickering to the cup of lotion, a laugh leaving her before she covered her mouth to silence herself enough; while Viktor burned a shade of red that rivaled the blood in his veins. 

“You gonna jerk off to your boy crush?”

“Leave.”

“Right, right, you have… business to attend to.”

Viktor could hear her snickering as she trotted away to her own bedroom. He didn't like that the girl so easily pointed at the desire.

Viktor was just a man, what could he do?

***

Admittedly he did reach for the little cup after an hour of his brain yelling obscenities at him, cursing him and telling him such awful things. His thumb nail had been scratching at his opposite palm, breaking skin just enough to give some semblance of relief. Masturbation was also a lovely form of relief. He needed to break a cycle that had invaded his mind, so why not go for a different self destructive behavior?

It did bring him a sense of shame as he shoved his shorts, then boxers just enough out of the way to grope at himself with a shaking hand, half worried that he’d be caught by some staff member that was trying to make sure he wasn't dead in his room somehow, which felt effectively impossible, honestly. Whatever, not a problem for now. Eyes screwing shut as he tried his best to relax into the sad attempt of a mattress, mouth slacked open slightly as his breathing shuddered.

It felt somehow like salvation, his mind conjuring up every memory of Jayce’s grunts or hisses of pain from when he’d sit in the forge with him, the days where the room was hot and Viktor was cold, he’d watch Jayce’s muscles tense and watch as sweat lined his body, in pants that looked way too tight to be professional with his gay lab partner in the room. It was for Viktor’s benefit nowadays, though. Having to bite into the pillow to shut himself up, ‘he was just a man’ he reminded himself. He had to assume most men in places like this did this at least once. Some were just more civilized to do it in the shower; Viktor was not one of those penis-havers. He was a little bit depraved, especially when antidepressants practically killed his libido at times. 

A layer of sweat brushed his pale flesh, whining into the pillow as he did climax, pathetically over the thoughts of a man he assumed only saw him as a friend. It felt scandalous to be jerking off while wearing one of Jayce’s shirts, even going as far as to let himself release into the fabric. The deep, dusty red hue now soiled with Viktor’s sinful ejaculate. 

…he pulled the clothing off to fold neatly, setting it on the side table, bolted down to the floor. He slept easier and a little better that night. Even if it took a pathetic action to get that ease. Better than any pain pill he could take at the moment. 

***

The next time Jayce visited was two days later. He had practically moved into Viktor’s apartment in the man’s absence, he felt he needed to. Give Rio her breakfast and dinner, take her to the vet appointment Viktor had scheduled on a little magnetic white board calendar on his fridge, even pay the bill in cash so Viktor couldn't try and pay him back. He knew Viktor’s frugal nature, he didn't want to put the man through any more stress than he already was in. He had called him one night, just talking. Viktor seemed out of it then, his voice hollow of emotion and dull. Numbed. Jayce would later learn it was because of some antidepressant they put him on, which just made everything foggy.

Viktor had talked on the phone about Jinx, about the staff. The other patients that creeped him out at times. How this man named Steb wouldn't utter a word, silent. Jinx said he hadn't spoken to the doctor either, just quiet. Jinx did tell him that he knew sign language, Jinx herself did as well, for someone back home.

Told Jayce about a nervous, skittish man named Huck, his words were always rushed as if he needed to prove something by speaking. Jayce just told him he missed him, he wanted him home, Rio missed him. He bit his tongue when he almost said he loved him over the phone, the brief seconds of hearing Viktor breathe before the call clicked off. Where the pause was long enough for Jayce to utter the affectionate words with space for Viktor’s reply. He didn't, he refused to let himself.

When Jayce visited again, Viktor was set at the table first, fidgeting with the edge of the table. He didn't hug him this time. It hurt worse that Jayce cared to admit to, of course. Jayce was the one to hesitantly break the silence with a diligent tone. “I didn't wanna lose you, Vik.” Viktor’s eyes were focused out the window once more. His throat tightened and his stomach churned with guilt, he desperately wanted to weaken, soften and sob into Jayce’s arms. The layer of walls he had held up made it difficult. “Viktor, I didn't want you to die. You know that, right?”

 “It wasn't your choice to make, Jayce.”

The response came out numb, weakened but tired. Exhausted in a way Jayce had never heard, not in those back to back all nighters in the lab; or after downing 3 pots of black coffee running on an empty stomach. This was not his Viktor, he refused to believe it. What had they done to his Viktor? 

“I didn't know this would happen, Vik! I didn't know you’d be shoved in a place like this, I just wanted you to get safe, get better.” Jayce was exasperated, desperate for Viktor to hear him. His elbows set on the table, leaning his face into his hands. “Killing yourself isn't a quick and easy coping mechanism, V.” the man’s voice shook, on the brink of crying while Viktor refused to save a glance for Jayce, the sad, desperate man that sat across from him.

“You have two suicide attempts under your belt, what authority do you have to tell me what a good coping mechanism is? You thought of yourself, what you would feel if I was dead. You have no obligation to be here. You are pitying me; and you know how I despise pity.” Viktor's words felt more like he was scolding Jayce than actual emotion, the gut wrenching pit in his stomach that threatened to spill his lunch on the table, to show every aspect of himself to Jayce, the nasty parts, where he’d rile him up and force Jayce to hate him, to look at him with hatred and disdain, hoping Viktor’s next attempt would work, and the czech man would die by his own hands, leaving nothing but a bloody stain on the hardwood floors of his old apartment, seep through the floor boards and drip onto his Neighbor’s kitchen counter. Ruin their breakfast and be nothing more than a mild inconvenience to anyone to have met him.

He wanted, needed, Jayce to hate him.

Not because he hated Jayce, but because he did not feel worthy of the attention he was blessed with, he did not deserve his kindness, nothing short of suicide as a way to atone for sins he wasnt sure he committed or not in heat of moments shared.

He believed he got his goal when Jayce moved to stand, muttering something under his breath after grabbing his coat. Had Viktor ruined any chance at finding love as genuine and as pure as Jayce’s? Maybe Viktor deserved to wither away, die like a forgotten statue in the middle of a dying maze, where feet have stopped treading through, and his stone body chipping away with every storm that passed over the previously smoothed concrete. Decaying in the hands of mother nature, never to be loved, or seen, ever again.

he deserved it, he believed…

***

Jayce didn't visit again. The anger that coursed the man's veins was near enough to make him boil over and just scream at the world. 

When he left the hospital that day, he took a drive. one where he was probably doing a little bit over the speed limit, hand on the wheel as he tried to process. to have his own suicidality put out and to be brought up as if it was nothing more than some way to get back at him; Viktor should know better, he rationalized. he didn't think about the fact the man was probably miserable behind those walls. No semblance of choice and no way to feel outside air, the world seemed to taunt the two of them. facing God in the face and asking ‘what the fuck is your problem?’ but no answer to be given.

Jayce knew that Viktor was right— he had no authority to claim was healthy and what wasn't. Jayce had two attempts. one being on his wrist, when he was a teenager. He called himself dramatic for going that far, for putting a kitchen knife his mamá had used to make dinner the night before, up to his wrist.

The leather bracelet on his arm covered the scar. He had stitched it up himself, and continued his life. His mother didn't know. At least he didn't think she did. 

And the second time? when he met Viktor. Standing on the ledge of his exploded apartment after an experiment gone wrong. his suicide letter on a table with his bracelet on top, Viktor snapped him out of it. He'd forever be grateful for that, even if things got bad for a long while. 

He drove for hours. stopping at the edge of town to eat some shitty diner food from a place that smelled like sewer water and grease stains. 

Jayce didn't like the food, either. tasted like the burger was drenched in grease, fries under salted, somehow his drink tasted like grease. 

Jayce always preferred night time. always preferred the stars, the way the moon would paint his skin, the grass and the sidewalk. how the night was peaceful, less cars, less noise unless you were downtown, and even then Jayce avoided downtown anyhow. He preferred the smaller towns, the close knit families and the community that went to church every Sunday morning and Wednesday afternoon. 

he wondered if Viktor looked at the stars like he did, he wondered if Viktor loved night time just as much as he. Jayce hoped he did.

the stars didn't judge.