Chapter Text
They were hugging each other, their foreheads pressed together. The light surrounding them grew until there was nothing but a silent, peaceful void. He wondered if this was what dying would be like. He hugged Viktor tighter, closing his eyes and accepting his fate. But death did not come.
It has been some time since reality has shaped itself around them, transporting them to another place. Maybe a few years or maybe a few minutes. It was as if the cosmic mass had come to a silent agreement with their subconscious and provided everything they needed to spend the rest of eternity together. It wasn't exactly an alternate universe, but rather a bubble in spacetime designed just for them.
Jayce moved and wrapped his arm around Viktor's slim waist, feeling the metallic fibers of his hexcore-modified muscles beneath his fingertips. The shorter man lifted the hand that was resting on his shoulder and traced the curve of his neck, sliding it to the line of his jaw. Their eyes met and Jayce placed a kiss on his partner's forehead. He realized the other had fallen asleep when the gentle scratching in his beard slowed to a stop.
He was sleepy, but he wasn't tired. It wasn't exhaustion that took over him, just the effect of being completely relaxed next to the love of his life. He moved so that his head was below Viktor's shoulder, with the steady beat of that heart acting as a lullaby.
He could hardly wake up before Viktor, so when the first rays of morning filtered through the window, illuminating the room, Jayce took advantage of the opportunity. He untangled himself from the sleeping man beside him, pulling the blanket over his lover's torso to replace his own warmth. Turning to open the drawer in the bedside table, he pulled out his old notebook along with a pencil.
The calculations about hextech were no longer there. But the superior force that sent them to that dimension, whatever it was, thought he would like to keep the drawings of Viktor that he had made. Therefore, he turned over some pages until he found a blank one and began to scribble the image of the almost divine being who was sleeping soundly in his bed.
He drew the golden spirals that snaked across the purple flesh where Viktor's corset and back support used to be. He tried to faithfully represent the beauty of the glowing skin on the side of his face and the bleached lock of hair that now fell to his shoulders. But it wasn't enough. He wanted to be able to portray the movement of the rise and fall of the chest, the heat that emanated from it, the sleepy murmur, in short, life. Everything that reminded him that they were there, together even after the end.