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Viktor needed to find Jayce.
That single thought had been repeating itself in Viktor's mind for the past half-hour. So much so that it had stopped feeling like a thought at all— and started feeling like a command.
Find Jayce.
Jayce was supposed to meet him back at their lab nearly an hour ago.
They had parted ways that morning with the expectation that, by afternoon, they would be back together— surrounded by half-finished prototypes, scattered tools, and the familiar chaos that seemed to follow them everywhere.
Jayce had even smiled when he left, squeezed his shoulder as he leaned in to press a warm kiss to his temple.
"Don't overdo it, okay?"
He had warned Viktor quietly, a small frown pulling at his brows.
A stupid flare-up.
That was all it had been.
Pain arriving at the worst possible moment, keeping him away from a meeting Jayce had reassured him he could handle.
Jayce was kind enough to offer his comforting words, but Viktor had waved it away. He was certain that Jayce could stand in front of a room full of investors and talk for hours if he believed something mattered, knew Jayce would endure insults, dismissals, impossible demands— anything— if he thought he could make someone understand.
Jayce did not give up easily.
He argued. He debated. He fought.
He did not leave.
So when one of the new clerks told Viktor, panicked, that Jayce had stormed out of the meeting—
Viktor knew something must've gone terribly, terribly wrong.
The streets of Piltover blurred around Viktor as he made his way towards Jayce's apartment, the sharp tap of his cane against the pavement echoing through the quiet night. He barely registered the route beneath his feet, instinct and memory carrying him forward while his mind remained elsewhere.
Keeping him anchored to his surroundings was the protest of his leg, flaring each time he shifted his weight onto it, and the ache spreading through his arm from the pressure he was putting on his cane.
When he reached the apartment door, his hand was already reaching for the spare key he kept tucked away in his breast pocket— but he chose to knock first.
Once, then again.
"Jayce?"
He did not answer.
There were a dozen explanations as to why, and Viktor forced himself to consider every single one: he had fallen asleep, he was in the shower— perhaps he had simply not heard him.
"Jayce."
Another knock, his voice coming out quieter this time.
Nothing.
Viktor aligned his key and pushed, his hands shaking slightly as he unlocked the door.
The apartment looked exactly as it always did.
There were half-finished sketches stacked in uneven piles, overflowing off the table. A rich red robe piled on the floor, abandoned this morning wherever Jayce had decided he no longer wished to wear it. A mug sat near the sink— the contents long gone cold— beside an open book, both clearly forgotten.
Viktor stepped further inside, closing the door behind him.
"Jayce…?"
He made his way slowly through the humble space, searching for any signs of his partner. The living room was empty, and so was the kitchen and the washroom. The room furthest from the entrance was Jayce's bedroom, and it was the last place Viktor had yet to check.
Viktor hesitated outside the closed door.
His mind supplied every possibility he had been trying not to give weight to since leaving the lab. For one brief, irrational moment, he thought of Schrödinger's cat.
The thought was absurd. And yet, standing before the closed door, Viktor found himself appealing the hypothetical. Until he opened it, every possibility remained equally possible.
He could be there.
Sleeping soundly, entirely unaware of the turmoil Viktor had worked himself into. He might have returned home, changed into something comfortable, and collapsed onto his bed without thinking of sending word. He might even wake up confused at being disrupted, asking why Viktor was looking at him as though he had grown a second head.
Or—
He reached for the handle before his thoughts could derail him any further.
— empty.
The bed was unmade, with the ungodly amount of pillows Jayce insisted on keeping strewn across it. Something on Jayce's desk was softly ticking. Clothes were scattered over the floor, across the bed, and over the chair Jayce had decided long ago was a perfectly reasonable substitute for his closet.
"You don't get it! I need somewhere to put the clothes I've already worn— they're too clean for the laundry bin and too dirty for the closet!"
Viktor looked around once more.
For a brief moment, the room looked so unmistakably like Jayce that Viktor could almost imagine him there, sprawled across the floor with a sandwich in one hand and some disassembled devices in his lap, entirely oblivious to the chaos surrounding him.
Where could he have gone instead? Viktor wondered.
His mother's place, perhaps. Caitlyn's. Mel's.
Of course Jayce had other people he could turn to. Viktor knew that.
He did not particularly like imagining Jayce seeking comfort in someone else's home. Not because he doubted any of them would help— quite the opposite, they would. Selflessly. Viktor was sure of it.
But there was something instinctively wrong about the thought of Jayce hurting and reaching for someone else first.
Childish, Viktor thought.
If Jayce was somewhere safe, somewhere warm, with someone who could help him, then that was what mattered, Viktor could tolerate being the last person he found his way back to.
If he is well, so be it.
A cold breeze brushed against Viktor's face, and his thoughts stopped.
His eyes dragged towards the window at the opposite end of the room, overlooking the towering buildings of Piltover.
It was slightly open, the curtains moving gently with the draft.
Another breeze ruffled Viktor's hair, and with it came a memory.
A different day. A different view.
He remembered the sight of him clearly, even now.
Jayce standing at the edge of a ruined apartment, silhouetted against the dark sky through the hole his unauthorized experiments had torn into the wall.
Viktor remembered stopping him.
Just in time, his mind supplies.
He remembered the disbelief of finding another mind that could keep pace with his own. The sudden understanding. The relief of discovering that he was not alone after all.
Late.
Viktor had been on time, then.
You're late now.
Viktor crossed the room quickly and pulled the windows shut.
Jayce was not here— so he had to be somewhere else.
His mother's place.
Viktor needed to find him.
Caitlyn's. Mel's.
Viktor needed to find him before—
A balcony.
The suddenness of the thought made Viktor's heart pound against his ribs.
He turned towards the bedroom door, already preparing to leave— when something caught his eye.
Jayce's coat, hung over the back of the chair.
His pearl-white coat, unmistakable, the Talis sigil embroidered across the back in gold, broad enough to stretch from shoulder to shoulder, pulling slightly as Jayce moved.
Relief came first; then confusion followed closely behind.
Jayce had come home, Viktor knew that much now. But he had left their lab almost immediately after hearing what had happened. If Jayce had returned here and then gone somewhere else, they should have crossed paths on the way downtown.
So why is his coat here?
Viktor looked back towards the bedroom.
The clothes.
Something about them started to bother him.
He had noticed the mess the moment he entered, but his mind had been too preoccupied to properly consider them. A shirt lay beside the bed. A jacket beside it. Trousers, another jacket, and several more pieces of clothing were scattered across the floor.
At first glance, it looked like the usual disorder— but the more Viktor looked, the less it made sense.
He stepped closer.
The hanger was still attached to the shirt.
He looked at the jacket, and its hanger was still attached, too.
So were all the others. All of them neatly pressed, the hooks tangled together as though Jayce had reached into the closet and pulled down several pieces at once, taking no care to remove them properly before dropping them onto the floor.
Had he been packing?
A quick glance beside the closet confirmed otherwise; his suitcase leaned against it, untouched.
Had he been looking for something to wear?
That seemed unlikely.
Jayce had an entire dresser full of the same comfortable cotton shirts and loose trousers he wore whenever he was home. There was little reason for him to dig through his formal wardrobe— especially when Jayce had never been particularly interested in wearing clothes at home in the first place.
Viktor rested both hands on the top of his cane as he regarded the room once more. His thoughts circled back on themselves.
Jayce had left the meeting.
He had come home.
And then…
And then what?
Nothing about the apartment suggested that he had prepared to leave again. If Jayce had intended to go somewhere, there would have been evidence of it. Viktor knew Jayce well enough to know that he was rarely subtle when he was in a hurry; a trail left in his rush.
But this was not a trail Viktor could follow.
Frustration tightened in his chest.
He struck his cane sharply against the wooden floor—
—and a thud from within the closet answered back.
"Ow!"
Viktor froze, certain he had imagined the sound.
The room held its breath along with Viktor… then he heard it again.
A quiet shuffle of weight; fabric brushing against wood.
He moved towards the closet, reaching it in a few careful steps and curling his fingers around the edge of the sliding door.
The door slid open— and there he was.
Jayce was curled into the far corner of the closet. His knees were pulled tightly against his chest, and he had somehow managed to fit himself into the narrow, horizontally split space between the few remaining clothes and the wall, though the position looked so cramped that Viktor's own back twinged in sympathy.
His red cravat hung loose around his neck, and the first few buttons of his shirt had been undone. His sleeves were rumpled, one pushed farther up his forearm than the other.
One of Jayce's hands was pressed against the top of his head; rubbing at the spot where he had apparently hit it after being startled by Viktor striking his cane.
Viktor paused, hand still resting on the handle.
"Jayce," he breathed out.
Jayce did not look at him.
He kept his gaze firmly pinned to the floor, his fingers moving slowly through his hair, again and again. He was no longer trying to soothe the ache away, Viktor suspected, rather offering himself some measure of comfort.
"I hadn't meant to startle you," Viktor told him.
It was true, he hadn't meant to hurt Jayce. Still, he could not bring himself to entirely regret the accident. It had assisted in finding him, after all.
"No, it's—"
Jayce began, lifting his gaze at last.
Their eyes met for barely a second before Jayce immediately squinted against the fluorescent light spilling into the closet. He looked away again, his expression pinched and shoulders curled inwards.
"—It's okay."
Viktor had spent the last hour running around like a madman imagining all manner of things. He had imagined anger, tears, silence. He had imagined the worst.
He had not imagined Jayce looking so small.
"Too bright?" Viktor asked.
Jayce hesitated, before giving a small nod.
"All right," Viktor said
He gave the cruel fluorescent light a glare before making his way to the dial besides the door. The brightness lowered with a click, leaving the room dim enough that the harsh edges of it seemed to soften.
When he turned, he found Jayce watching him, hand gone still in his hair.
"Better?" Viktor asked softly.
Jayce nodded once. "Better."
Viktor nodded firmly in turn.
He had learnt, through years of their partnership, that Jayce sometimes got like this. Not all at once— and certainly not because Jayce had ever sat him down and explained it properly. More often, Viktor had simply noticed.
There were days when Jayce would wrap himself up so completely in one of his blankets that only the top of his hair remained visible. In their laboratory, he sometimes wordlessly dragged his chair closer to Viktor's and stayed there, working side by side, content to be near.
After pointless meetings or crowded gatherings, Jayce would sometimes bury his face against Viktor's neck during the carriage ride home, shutting out the rest of the world, one breath at a time.
Even at the forge, Jayce found something grounding in the physicality of the work— the heat, the weight of the hammer in his hand, the repetitive rhythm of striking metal into shape. He would sometimes disappear there for hours, working until the restless energy had somewhere to go.
And on difficult days, when none of those things were enough, Jayce stopped talking altogether.
There were moments when existing seemed to become one demand too many, and Viktor had learnt that Jayce sometimes needed things when he got like this. Sometimes it was quiet. Sometimes it was distance. Sometimes it was dim lights.
And sometimes, apparently, it was a closet.
Viktor looked at Jayce, who stopped rubbing his head and began rubbing his thumb over the rune set into the bracelet around his wrist instead, his eyes fixed on the floor again. He knew better than to ask him to come out. Instead, Viktor started lowering himself carefully to the floor beside the open closet.
"You don't have to—"
"I'm aware." Viktor settled onto the floor.
"But your leg—"
Viktor raised a single eyebrow in challenge.
Jayce's lips pressed into a thin line. His brows drew together, a flicker of indignation crossing his face at Viktor's refusal to even let him voice his concern, before he turned his head away with a quiet huff.
The quick movement sent loose strands of dark hair falling across his forehead, softening his features and making him look younger than he was.
Even now, like this, Jayce's first concern was still Viktor.
It was so painfully characteristic of him— this instinct to put those he cherished before himself— that Viktor suddenly wanted to reach across the small space between them and brush the strands away.
Instead, Viktor leaned forward slightly, snagging Jayce's eyes before speaking again. "Let me do the worrying for today, hm?"
Jayce held Viktor's gaze, gathering the strength to argue, before the fight in him faltered beneath the weight of his exhaustion.
"… Okay."
With a sigh, Viktor leaned sideways against the sliding door, tucking his good leg in and adjusting his cane so it stayed within reach.
For a while, neither of them said anything.
Jayce's knees remained drawn to his chest, but not quite as tightly as before. His fingers stopped worrying at the rune on his bracelet and instead rested loosely around it.
Viktor watched him for a moment before speaking.
"What happened?"
Jayce's grip tightened again, and his breath hitched in sharply.
He did not answer immediately, Viktor thought he might not answer at all— then Jayce exhaled through his nose.
"They want to move the demonstration forward."
Viktor frowned. "How much forward?"
"Three months," Jayce answered flatly.
"… That is impossible."
"I told them."
"And?"
Jayce gave a small, humourless laugh.
"They told me that if I couldn't make it happen, they would find someone who could."
"They cannot," Viktor said instantly.
"I know."
"They are bluffing."
"I know."
"Jayce—"
"I know!"
The answer came out sharp.
Jayce's gaze remained fixed on his tightly clasped hands, his jaw tight.
"They can't take HexTech away from you," Viktor said more quietly.
"I know."
This time, the answer came only with exhaustion.
There were times when words were useful; when Jayce needed someone to dismantle the problem in front of him into smaller, manageable pieces. Other times, however rare, Jayce's mind simply went too far inward for logic to reach him.
Viktor could tell Jayce that the investors were lying.
He could explain the contracts and the patents. How Mel Medarda, HexTech's biggest backer, would never allow it. How no one else understood the work as they did . He could list every reason why no one had any real leverage over HexTech—
But Jayce already knew all of it.
Jayce had spent years putting everything he had into HexTech. He wore his hopes for it openly, spoke about its possibilities as though they were already within reach. He talked about it with his whole body— hands moving when he explained the concept, eyes brightening when a possibility occurred to him, already three steps ahead of whatever conversation he was having.
He had trusted them to see the same beauty he did— but all they had seen was how much it mattered to him…
And they had simply used it against him.
Viktor tipped his head sideways against the closet door.
Minutes passed, perhaps longer.
He tried keeping track of the time, at first.
One minute became five. Five became ten.
Viktor's leg began to ache somewhere around seven.
His back followed shortly after, the muscles along his spine beginning to complain against the unforgiving wooden floor. He shifted once, carefully, trying to redistribute his weight without disturbing Jayce.
He could leave.
He could get up, make tea, bring Jayce some to soothe him along with a blanket, find them both something softer to sit on— he could even return to the laboratory and collect whatever work they had abandoned there.
But the thought lasted less than a second. Every time he imagined standing and turning away, he imagined Jayce alone in the closet after he had gone.
His body had already interfered with enough today.
So against his body's protests, Viktor stayed.
Ultimately, counting the minutes became tedious, and Viktor's thoughts began to wander. He worked through a problem he and Jayce had been stuck on earlier in the day, testing possible variables against the equations in his head one by one, discarding those that didn't fit.
It was something to occupy the restless part of his mind while the quieter part remained fixed on Jayce beside him.
Jayce moved eventually, stretching his neck to one side before rolling his shoulders twice. He clearly ached— obvious from the wince on his face.
Viktor leaned forward to glance over the cramped space Jayce was currently— remarkably— occupying.
"Perhaps you should get a bigger closet."
Jayce's eyes languidly rose to regard him.
"A bigger closet?"
"Yes." Viktor gestured towards the clothes scattered across the floor.
Jayce's attention followed Viktor's hand.
"Although I suspect you would fill it with even more of those extravagant clothes you insist on buying because you look good in them."
Jayce's mouth twitched.
"You look good in everything, unfortunately." Viktor sighed dramatically. "That is hardly a justification for buying it all."
That earned him a laugh.
A small and tired laugh, barely more than a huff of breath, but Viktor felt something inside him loosen all the same.
"Probably," Jayce said, rubbing at the back of his neck.
"Definitely."
Jayce rolled his eyes in response, though the corner of his mouth remained lifted.
Before Viktor could feel satisfied by how the mood had slightly lightened, Jayce spoke once more.
"I'm sorry," he added quietly.
"For what?" Viktor frowned.
"Well…" Jayce's expression tightened. "It's weird."
Viktor tilted his head in confusion. "What is?"
"This!" Jayce gestured vaguely around him, though his hand barely made it past his frame. "You finding a— a grown man cowering in his closet!"
His shoulders drew in a little further.
"I don't know… It's not—" he swallowed— "Not exactly normal."
Viktor stared at jayce, taking in his flushed face— the colour high across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose— and the fine sheen of sweat gathered along his temples. His eyes, bright and red-rimmed, refused to meet Viktor's.
"No," he finally said, "Not really."
Jayce's face started to fall before Viktor quickly amended, jolting forward with his hands held up in front of him— "I did not say it was a bad thing!"
"I am surprised, perhaps," Viktor said, "I did not know you did this."
He cleared his throat, giving himself time to consider his words.
"But 'weirded out?'" Viktor shook his head. "No."
Jayce studied Viktor's face, eyes darting between his features in search, and opened his mouth to speak— but Viktor cut off his surely oncoming protests.
"Concerned, certainly. You disappeared after a meeting that clearly upset you, slammed the door behind you, and left the poor clerk terrified."
Jayce groaned out in embarrassment, and dropped his head to his knees to hide.
"That is very concerning." There was the faintest hint of amusement in Viktor's voice, "But I am not judging you for it."
"Right," Jayce drawled out, a bitter laugh slipping beneath. His shoulders shook with it, just enough to make it convincing.
"Jayce." Viktor's voice softened enough to make him look up.
Jayce had already begun twisting Viktor's words into something he could easily dismiss— so Viktor reached for something Jayce could not easily argue away.
"I have asked you to poke hundreds of holes in me."
Jayce blinked.
"…What?"
"I have asked you to stick hundreds of tiny needles into my body— even when I know for a fact that you blench at the sight of them."
Jayce grimaced, face scrunching slightly at the memory.
"You have walked in on me hanging upside down in the laboratory to decompress and nearly frightened yourself to death more times than I care to count."
A faint smile tugged at Jayce's mouth.
"I have woken you up in the middle of the night, tossing and turning because I could not get comfortable, and then you spent the next hour rearranging half the bed."
Viktor gave a small shrug.
"You have endured it all with remarkable patience; even when what I was doing made very little sense to you— you never judged me for it."
"Viktor," Jayce said, like he was desperate for him to understand. "That's different."
"Is it?"
Jayce hesitated.
"You never stop to question whether any of it would actually help," Viktor continued. "You simply believe me when I tell you I am in pain."
"Because you're actually in pain."
"And you think you are not?"
Jayce's hands, resting on his shoulders in a mock embrace, tightened around the fabric of his sleeves.
"That's not what I meant."
Viktor frowned. "But it is what you believe."
Jayce bit down at his lips.
"Jayce, you have never asked me to justify the strange things I do when I am hurting," Viktor said quietly. "So I see no reason why you have to justify yours."
Jayce said nothing.
His gaze fixed absently on his hands, his brow furrowing slightly as he worked through Viktor's words. His mouth opened once, then closed again, whatever response he had thought better of left unspoken.
Jayce had heard him. Whether he believed him, however, was a matter for a different time.
The apartment had grown quiet around them. Somewhere behind Viktor, the little mechanism on Jayce's desk continued its soft, steady ticking— filling the spaces between their breaths.
After a while, Viktor shifted.
His leg was beginning to ache from being folded into the same position for so long, and his back lost its fight against the hard floor. He twisted until his shoulders met the open sliding door, melting into it, and let out a quiet breath.
He carefully extended one leg into the room, easing one knee straight before following with the other.
Jayce watched him.
Then, slowly, he shifted as well.
He turned and scooted forward within the cramped spaced, sitting just at the edge of the threshold until his knees were almost clear of the closet. His legs unfolded first, no longer curled into himself. He stretched his legs out, wiggling his socked toes to release the stiffness from remaining folded for so long.
Viktor glanced down.
Jayce's feet had come to rest only a few inches from his own.
Neither of them moved closer.
Neither of them moved further away.
Viktor heard the muffled thud of Jayce's head tipping back against the closet wall, and then heard him release a quiet breath— just like his own moments ago.
He drew in another slow breath, deep enough for Jayce to hear.
A moment later, Jayce followed.
So Viktor did it again.
Then again.
Jayce's breathing gradually evened out.
Viktor kept listening, his eyes closing.
There was nowhere else to look.
Nowhere else to go.
Jayce was here.
Found.