Chapter Text
The rising sun illuminates off Piltover’s white facades.
From the secluded balcony Viktor has discovered on one of the Academy’s higher floors, the view is wondrous. The sea glitters with the morning, the cool air stings Viktor’s cheeks. Viktor has gone out of his way to find this place, hidden and far away from the body of the campus so that he will not be interrupted. Climbing all this way makes his leg hurt, but Viktor finds he prefers this ache to the constant chatter of people who want something from him.
He breathes in.
The early hours of the day always seem unreal to Viktor. Staying up late to work sometimes carries over to the early hours of the morning, when Piltover’s scholars are still asleep, and Zaun’s miners are finishing their night shifts. When Jayce inevitably falls asleep, Viktor loathes to wake him up. He is tired, they are both tired. Some time ago, Viktor decided to bring the dreaded navy blanket to the lab, and now when it happens, he just covers Jayce and makes his journey here, to this small little balcony.
As he sits on a ledge, sleep-deprived and alone, he imagines he is the only person to exist, and for a short while, Viktor gives himself the opportunity to feel, to look, to exist. He is simply Viktor. Some mornings, he remembers his mother. There is no grave to visit, not anymore, but at least he can speak a couple of words in their native language into the morning air, hoping it carries to where she can hear him.
Would she be proud?
They shared the shape of their mouth. When he was younger and when she was alive, he did not see it, he did not try to see it, as he was a child. Incurious about such things. He existed and so did she, but then she was gone. Viktor remained in her likeness.
Viktor feels coarse. His skin is rubbed raw. He brings his hand to his mouth and pinches his bottom lip, hard.
He comes here often, nowadays.
The address is set to be in two days and there has been nobody from Zaun to come to him.
At least, Viktor figures if nobody shows up, he does not have to do it, right? Except it would be a lie, a dirty lie, because he will go through with giving the address either way. Maybe if the responsibility of the maintenance of the air ducts is given to Silco as a fact, not as an opportunity, he will have no choice but to take action. It is a disgusting unloyalty on Viktor’s part, and Silco will never forgive him for forcing his hand.
A cough escapes Viktor’s lips.
Another one follows soon after and then another, another, and Viktor has trouble getting air in, lungs rattling, breathing unsteady. Those coughing fits have been happening for some time now, but Viktor is not yet willing to share this condition with anyone. For now, he must keep on working.
Viktor wipes his face and breathes out, lungs aching.
The sun rises slowly, but it keeps climbing up. He soon has to come back, he has to wake Jayce up, they have to come back to their experiments. Viktor thinks fondly of them. They are imperfect, time-consuming and puzzling, much like himself.
“You will freeze your ass off.”
Viktor looks up.
Jinx blinks back at him.
“Was it difficult, climbing all the way up here?” he asks. He is not surprised to see her here, but he is surprised to see her.
Jinx performs a half somersault to get down from the roof she has been seemingly hanging from up to the point of Vikor noticing her. The half somersault soon becomes just a sad climb down, as she gets lazy. One of her braids almost smacks Viktor in the face, so he slaps it out of the way.
“I went in through the main entrance,” Jinx says.
“And you still decided to climb up on the roof.”
“I like to have the element of surprise.” Jinx shrugs and plops down next to him.
Jinx coming to him could mean many things, but Viktor refuses to get his hopes up. Would Silco send her, his beloved daughter, to make deals with Viktor? To give him ultimatums? It seems redundant. Viktor is willing to talk without any other emotional charges added.
“Did you sleep at all tonight?” Jinx’s gaze is clearly a judgmental one, but Viktor lets himself be judged. Jinx’s opinions, he craves. “Let me rebraid your hair.”
It is not a question, but Viktor still nods yes as an answer. It takes some maneuvering, for Jinx to have a good enough position to reach his hair, but they figure it out. As it turns out, neither of them carry a hairbrush, so Jinx has to settle on using her fingers to comb through Viktor’s hair.
“Vik, I’m not here because of… that,” Jinx tells after a beat passes, and Viktor is glad for her honesty, but he still feels his shoulders sag at the words.
“Yes. I thought so too.”
Jinx’s small I’m sorry is almost unnoticeable, but Viktor hears it all the same. He knows not to acknowledge it, to just take what he is given and accept it. Jinx is not one to like showing vulnerability and he will respect it. Viktor is the same. They were raised by the same father, after all.
“And you didn’t come all the way here because you missed me, I presume.”
Jinx hits him on the shoulder and Viktor winces. It is not that he wants to be difficult, he knows Jinx misses him. After years spent together, they are very well versed in each other's way of speaking, so he knows she doesn’t take it to heart. Jinx, much like Jayce, is just a very physical person and Viktor could swear that there is a divot on his arm from the way she always goes for his right hand when she gets frustrated at him.
“You can be a such an annoying dick sometimes.”
“I learnt from the best.”
Jinx yanks his hair. Purposefully, Viktor assumes, when Jinx rolls her eyes for good measure.
So why are you here? burns on Viktor’s tongue, but he does not ask it, not yet.
“Silco has been awful since you left,” Jinx begins. Ah, here it is. Here it is.
“I haven’t left. I think of it as moving out.”
“Well, it was all quite sudden, don’t you think? You know how Silco gets.”
Abandonment issues run deep in their family.
“I haven’t left,” Viktor repeats.
The sun is now fully out of the water, a perfect ball of light that makes the water underneath sparkle. He should really be on his way back. Orange shadows dance on Jinx’s face and catch on the golden chain she rebraids into Viktor’s hair.
“You kept it,” she points out, surprised.
Of course Viktor kept it. It is his favourite thing he owns.
“I think it’s a shitty, shitty situation,” Jinx continues. “I get why you are here, I really do. But I don’t have to like it. Honestly, Vik, I don’t. I hate it.”
While Viktor thinks she does not have the right to, he also understands her. Leaving the way he did bore some disagreeable consequences he was aware of since even before he did it.
Zaun has seen it countless times before. Things often happen that way, Zaun losing one of its own to Piltover. Rarely it is the other way around.
Silco has always been tight-lipped when someone left, but he never did anything to quench the loud displeasure that erupted in the aftermath among his people. Jinx grew up observing it. So did Viktor. During the war, which Viktor was born during and only lived through the end of, leaving was unthinkable. Switching sides. Silco was one of the independence movement’s leaders. Perhaps if you once become such a person, you never stop being them.
“I’m being called a traitor now.”
“Yeah. You deserve it.”
Jinx finishes rebraiding Viktor’s hair and ties it with a blue ribbon she had attached to her crop top. Viktor touches the end of the braid and plays with the ribbon. Dangling next to the golden chain, it reminds him of home.
“Jinx-” Why is it so hard to find the right words? “I’m only doing what I think is right.”
Jinx tilts her chin up to look at the sky, which is quickly turning blue. The day is going to be a sunny one.
“I believe you. And I- I agree. The air ducts need cleaning.”
Viktor holds his whole body rigid when he hears her words.
“I can’t promise anything and you know it,” Jinx quickly adds.
“But you will talk to him.”
“I really can’t promise you anything, Vik.”
No matter. If Jinx (the golden child, the beloved daughter) talks to Silco, Viktor’s cause is not yet entirely lost. His hand falls from where it has been playing with the ribbon and Viktor moves to grab Jinx’s hand. He only squeezes it for a second, because it is not what they are used to, and Jinx hates when anybody gets sappy. That quick touch is the only acceptable Thank you.
Jinx throws him one look and clears her throat.
“I should get going before Pilties start waking up.”
“This city is unbelievably lazy,” Viktor agrees.
“Yeah. But I really don’t want to actually get off here through the roof. It’s icy today.”
They hold each other gazes for one second longer and then Viktor nods at her. Jinx hesitates before she nods back, and then she disappears behind him, into the still empty corridors of the building.
Jinx will talk to Silco.
Jinx will talk to Silco.
As Viktor makes his way back to the lab, his cheeks start to hurt from the smile he is trying to hold back.
Unfortunately, Jayce is already up. The blanket is thrown over the chair and Jayce is busying himself with checking on experiments that do not need to be checked on, not at this hour of the day.
“Where have you gone to?”
It is not an accusation and Viktor knows it, but he still feels the hairs on his neck standing up. Jayce’s voice is raspy from sleep and his hair could use a combing.
“I had to clear my head.”
“Hm. Is your leg okay?”
Viktor looks down and notices how little he has been paying attention to this particular ache. The walk down was not nearly as taxing as it usually is.
“Yes. I think it is. Thank you.”
A divot appears between Jayce’s eyebrows as he comes closer to Viktor.
“You look different.”
Yes. Viktor feels different.
The way Viktor is as a person, his first instinct is to dismiss Jayce. Most probably it would be easier, too. However, whatever compels him to be secretive, Jayce does not deserve it. Viktor holds his breath.
“I had a little visit.”
“Where? Here?”
“Up top.”
Jayce’s eyes come to form little slits, but then he comes to understand Viktor’s words and a knowing look passes his face.
“On the balcony?”
“Yes.”
Jayce’s apprehension comes from the simple fact that Viktor refuses to wake him up to come with him, when he goes there. It is not that Viktor does not want Jayce to join, per say, but for a long time now he believes that Jayce needs his sleep. Viktor has always been a bit of a nocturnal animal and his lack of sleep fuels him, his ideas. When Jayce lacks sleep, he becomes jumbled.
“Care to share who it was?”
“Jinx.”
“Up there? Did she climb on the roof?”
“Came through the front door, apparently.”
There are no rules that would stop Jinx from visiting, but Viktor cannot imagine anybody would be too thrilled to learn how easily she can come in and out if so she pleases.
Jayce puts his hand on his neck and groans. The muscles on his forearms flex with each of his moves.
“Gods, I need to get out of here. I’m going stir-crazy.”
Sometimes, it gives Viktor a pause, at how lenient Jayce is with him. Jayce is giving him an option of not bringing up whatever was said on the roof. He has to be doing it intentionally, and Viktor makes a note of bringing it up, later, when the situation allows for regular relationship squabbles and not just general everything-is-not-as-it-should-be problems. If Viktor ever goes too far, he wants it to be Jayce who is trained with scolding him into his place.
“My brilliant little sister told me she would talk with Silco.”
Jayce’s hand freezes where he has been rubbing his neck.
“O. She really did?”
“Mhm.”
“V, that’s… good. That’s good, isn’t it?”
“I want to believe it is.”
It would be nice to be held, Viktor decides, so he wastes no time with getting to Jayce and standing in front of him with a raised brow. His expectation, thankfully, translates easily and Jayce lets his hand fall down to Viktor’s waist.
“Just stay like that,” Viktor warns as he puts his own hands on Jayce’s shoulders, because he finds himself not in the mood to hear reassurances. All of this, it feels bigger than him.
“Just like our first dance, eh?”
It is, a little bit. Viktor decides he is too tired to hold balance well, so he does not try to sway and mimic that dance. He does not remember the steps too well.
“That reminds me. V, you will have to let me go for a second- Where is it-”
The shelves in Jayce’s enormous desk are filled with things Viktor usually prefers to keep away from. The chaos there is too much, even for him. Jayce finds what he has been looking for and hands him the box. Viktor opens it up carefully. The lid gets stuck as he tries to take it off, but after a little more force it gives, revealing its contents.
Inside, all Viktor can see is gold.
“D’you like it?” Jayce immediately asks.
Always so eager, Jayce.
“I don’t know what I’m looking at yet,” Viktor tells him, as he moves to take the contents out.
“Right. Right! Maybe… be careful pulling it out?”
Viktor gets more and more intrigued with each of Jayce’s words.
He can see metal coming together to form braids, golden. Daity, even. The chains rattle when he picks the main structure up, as he grabs what he assumes is its support rod. He takes it in hands and pulls the garment out of the box, observed by Jayce’s watchful eyes.
Viktor has to take a moment to understand what he is looking at, but when he does, his eyes go a bit wider.
“You… got it made here?”
Jayce wrings his hands.
“In Zaun, actually.”
“You went to Zaun by yourself?”
“Yes. Is this… not okay?”
What Viktor is holding is the most exquisite piece of jewelry he has ever had. As he inspects it, he comes to a conclusion that it is supposed to go on his back, made to look like a golden human spine. Some smaller chains have been added to the vertebrae and extend out of it to wrap around the metal ribs, presumably so they make sound as the wearer moves.
It is so painfully zaunite. It leaves Viktor in awe.
“It is… beautiful.”
As soon as he says it, a brilliant smile blooms on Jayce’s face.
“I’m glad you like it.”
“May I ask, what is the occasion?”
It must have cost a fortune to be made this quickly. Viktor turns the brace around, and finds it to be light and easily adjustable as he tests it in his hands. This is some good craftsmanship.
Sometimes, he forgets that Jayce is wealthy.
It is Jayce’s answer that shocks Viktor even more.
“For the address, obviously.”
Viktor’s head snaps in Jayce’s direction.
“Jayce.” Viktor says, because it seems fitting, beginning with his name. Viktor likes saying Jayce’s name. Now, he just has to continue, but all the right words are evading him. “Jayce. I am… very grateful. But please, explain… this.”
“Only if you want to. But I kept thinking about what they want you to wear and it is not really fitting, no? I would hate for anybody to try to erase you, Viktor. You don’t really want to wear that sad little jacket.”
Viktor’s jaw falls.
“You deserve something that looks good,” Jayce, unashamedly, continues, even if Viktor is sure he is tracking all of Viktor’s reactions. “I thought about the first night we met and the corset you wore. It drove me crazy.”
Ah.
The corner’s of Viktor’s lips twitch.
“You had this made for selfish reasons, then?”
“A bit. But you, Viktor, are vain. And I think you would want to wear something that makes you look like you.”
At that, Viktor nearly drops the brace.
He doesn’t remember the last time he has been seen like this. Maybe it is the first time it has ever happened to him.
“You-”
There are things that he should ask. Does Jayce not mind this, Viktor’s blatant vanity? It is plain as day that he is. Viktor enjoys his trinkets, which now litter surfaces of Jayce’s flat, collecting dust, for the sole purpose of just being looked at. The large mirror, the one they now have, they acquired because of Viktor. Previously, Jayce only had a small handheld one, which was not much suitable for anything, really. It was a testament to Jayce’s bachelorism, and it amused Viktor only for a week before it got tiring. Hence, the large mirror with scratches on its surface.
Viktor is vain. Viktor is stubborn. Viktor does not want to accompany Jayce on the stage for the address, when Jayce himself does not want to be there, even if he never complains about the role he has been thrusted into to appease whomever.
Viktor is in love with Jayce, but is too much of a coward to say it.
Jayce reads Viktor so well. Viktor does not know when it has happened. Was it like this from the very beginning? Viktor doesn’t want to wear the white uniform that makes him feel alien, he doesn’t. It is a bit presumptuous on Jayce’s part, to assume Viktor would like something like this made, something so zaunite and ostentatious, but it is the truth. Let Jayce be rewarded for his shamelessness, now. He managed something Viktor was too afraid to ask for, and if it was done with a smirk, Viktor will bite it off Jayce’s mouth later.
Kiss it, too.
“It will cause an uproar, if I wear this,” Viktor says quietly.
“But it would be you,” Jayce simply answers.
~
Jinx does not come back the next day.
“What do you think it means?” Viktor asks Jayce.
“I really don’t know, V.” Jayce’s apologetic voice breaks Viktor’s heart.
The day continues to pass and Jinx never shows up.
Nobody from Zaun shows up.
“Should I go back to them one more time?” Viktor wonders out loud.
Jayce kisses the top of his head.
“I don’t think you should. V, you gave them a lot of opportunities now.”
Those words turn out to be exactly what Viktor needed to hear. He spends the night tossing and turning, but more so in anticipation than in regret.
On the day of the address, he wakes up with a clear head.
“Let’s burn that godsawful white suit,” he rasps out into Jayce’s ear before the sun has risen, before Jayce has even properly woken up, but the persistent insistence bubbling under his skin compels Viktor into a dangerous direction.
So, Jayce takes him on the roof of their building, with the awfully creased suit under his arm. It burns for longer than Viktor would have expected and it fascinates him. He decides he has to study its properties some more, so he snatches one smoldered piece from the burning pile and hurts his fingers in the process.
“Gods, it stinks,” Jayce complains about the smell, but soon, the wind soon sweeps the ashy evidence from the roof.
They come back to bed, smelling like fire, because there is nothing more to be done at his hour. All the prototypes they have chosen to be presented have already been wheeled away to one of the backrooms of where the gala will take place. Viktor pulls Jayce on top of himself, eager to have the whole of his weight covering him. Greedy for Jayce. Always greedy.
“Thank you for the brace,” Viktor says. “I didn’t thank you for it properly yet. It means a lot.”
Jayce nuzzles his nose into Viktor’s neck.
“Mhm, I’m happy you like it, that’s all.”
“Do you have anything else in mind that I should wear with it?”
Jayce raises his head to look at him.
“You want to play dress up with me?”
“I wasn’t the one who started it,” Viktor huffs out a quiet laugh. “But yes. What should I wear with it?”
“The black blouse that shows off your back,” Jayce says immediately.
“What else?”
“The dark trousers. The one you have to tie around your waist.”
Viktor imagines how the dark, flowy outfit Jayce is putting together will look with the spine brace on his back.
“You are painting a very zaunite image right now, Jayce.”
“I think you would feel good wearing it.”
The thing is, Viktor would. He would.
“What would you have me wearing?” Jayce wiggles his hand under Viktor and puts his hand on the small of Viktor’s back, dangerously low. If he wanted to sneak his hand under the waistband of Viktor’s sleep pants, he would only have to move one finger down.
“Do you not like the suit that was made for you?”
“Indulge me.”
“That is a bit unfair. I didn’t have time to have a seamstress bring my exact vision to light.”
“Choose from what I already own, then.”
A lesson in the current occupants of Talis’ household. Jayce is a possessive, possessive man, but Viktor is equally as proprietorial. If Jayce is willing to offer him such a bite, Viktor will chew even more.
“The neck scarf would be nice,” Viktor begins and tangles his fingers into Jayce’s long hair. Not really petting, but more just to have them there, because he can. “The one I got you last week.”
“The checkered one?”
“Yes.”
“Which suit, then?”
Viktor moves his head in the direction of their wardrobe. Its heavy wooden doors are slightly ajar, from when they were getting ready in a hurry yesterday, so he can just see inside.
“No suit. Just the dress shirt.”
Jayce follows the line of Viktor’s sight. From his position, where he is resting his head on Viktor’s chest, he must see a bit more of the wardrobe contents.
“Do I even have a dress shirt that will stand on its own?” He sounds amused.
“Yes. The one with the lace on the collar.”
The one that clings to Jayce’s body just right. Jayce moves his head to rest his chin on Viktor’s sternum and flashes him a delighted grin.
“And with the golden accents. V, you are so predictable.”
“Continue talking like that and I will have you go pantless,” Viktor not-really- warns.
“Cruel,” Jayce deadpans. He finally moves his hand down, and grabs Viktor’s ass, giving him a light squeeze. Viktor tightens his hold on Jayce’s hair, directing Jayce to look at him.
“Not right now,” he says, even when he feels the front of his boxers becoming slightly damp and his stomach tingling. Jayce kisses just above Viktor’s right nipple, and then moves his hand up.
“Let me kiss you, then?”
That, that Viktor will always allow.
~
Unfortunately, the easiness of the morning quickly slips away, when Viktor and Jayce arrive to supervise their prototypes being prepared to later be shown off.
Viktor is wearing one of Jayce’s jackets and sweats that are too big on him, not bothering with anything too fancy, as they will have to change later anyway. Viktor enjoys looking good, but he is used to getting ready alone, with as much time as he needs for it. Turns out, as Jayce is usually expected to be on stage during a gala like this, he has people coming to do his hair, to do his makeup, to straighten clothes that need to be straightened beforehand. It is not on Jayce’s own insistence, but after his first address, the Council sternly suggested such measures to be taken.
The outfit Viktor is going to wear is safely tucked into a milky white garment bag he has hung in their lab. Viktor insisted on carrying it in himself, afraid that the weight of the brace will give away that it is very much not what he was told to wear.
It is defiance. He knows it.
With Jayce by his side, he is not afraid to take this step.
Zaun’s silence is deafening. Viktor knows Silco has been invented into attendance, he always is, but nobody really knows if he will show up. Some representative is needed, but since the Council has decided to whore out his son, Viktor imagines Silco gets a pass for missing this particular event.
Jayce finishes instructing one of the lab assistants on how to handle the prototype they are currently loading up on a more representative cart and turns to Viktor.
“How are you holding up?”
Viktor puts his thumb to his lips.
“This is all unnecessary.”
“Piltover likes to keep track of its progress.”
“Yes, but it only stiffles it.”
The assistant has his back turned to them, but it is undeniable that he keeps listening to everything that is being said, so Viktor gestures to Jayce to halt his answer.
“We should move to get ready now, no?” Viktor says to have an excuse to get them out of this room.
Jayce follows eagerly, clearly over giving instructions. He gets like this sometimes, when Viktor takes the initiative, and follows Viktor like an obedient dog to where they get their hair combed, foundation put on and powder dabbed all over their faces. It is strangely nice to be looked after in this way. It reminds Viktor of Jinx, but he has to banish this thought immediately, when he notices how much he longs for her jabs at his hair which always curls at its ends, even when straightened. If the stylist notices him wriggling in his chair, he doesn’t comment on it.
The stylist dabs some dark shadow in the crease of Viktor’s eyes and deems him ready. Jayce looks over at him for his chair and breathes out.
“It suits you.”
“Eyeshadow?” Viktor studies his face in the mirror. It is not his first time wearing eyeshadow, but usually he skips it entirely. He lacks patience to get it to look correctly. Thankfully, the stylist has been well versed in such a task, and with applying it quickly, which Viktor appreciates even more.
“Yes.” Jayce nods.
“Noted,” Viktor says and leads Jayce to their lab, where their garments are ready to be put on. They should be heading down soon, anyway.
Jayce helps him put on the brace. Viktor decided to go with the outfit that Jayce had put together when they were still in bed together, so the brace is cold against his naked back.
“You look very handsome, V,” Jayce, who is also wearing what Viktor has picked out for him (with pants, Viktor is too much of a jealous creature to allow Jayce to be seen like this by anybody else but him), says softly.
Viktor moves to test the brace. It fits him snugly and does not obscure his movements.
“Let’s hope it will be enough to sway the entirety of Piltover, then,” Viktor huffs.
Jayce finishes buttoning up the laced dress shirt and says, “I would run away with you, if you asked.”
“Stop saying things like that. Jayce.”
Jayce smiles viciously and points at the blush that is spreading throughout Viktor’s torso, at his reddened ears.
“But why, if you clearly like it so much?”
Viktor shifts to rub his legs together.
“Jayce,” he warns.
“Okay. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I just like you so much.”
I love you, Viktor thinks, but doesn’t say.
Rudely, predictably, they are interrupted.
We have to find another lab, away from the Academy, Viktor thinks then, tired, tired of being harassed in this way in what is supposed to be his place of focus.
When Shoola with a winded and red faced Hoskel in tow enter their lab, Viktor does not feel remorseful about his choice of clothes. Shoola’s eyes immediately stop on the darker blouse, made so that it is sheer, but not sheer enough that it would be showing skin underneath. To Viktor, it was made to represent blowing wind. Jayce, their Man of Progress, picked it for him. He has nothing to be ashamed of.
“I see that you are ready,” Shoola says, cold, quiet.
Jayce’s entire demeanor hardens when he is in a presence of all the Councillors, and he straightens his back immediately in Shoola’s presence. He becomes another version of Jayce, one that demands respect and speaks with conviction that cannot be ignored.
Jayce comes to stand by Viktor’s side.
“We are. Has the gala already started?”
“The guests are starting to arrive,” Hostel confirms, and because he lacks Shoola’s subtlety, he asks, “Excuse me, but what are you wearing, young gentleman? This is not what we issued for you!”
“Ah, the suit was too big, it made Viktor look ridiculous. The seamstress sadly was not able to alter it in time,” Jayce says dismissively, but he is clearly daring Hoskel to comment something more.
Shoola does not say anything, but Shoola is also aware of the numbers she has asked to be provided with. It is in her best interest to allow this bit of eccentricity on Viktor and Jayce’s part.
“Are you ready to come down?” she asks, impassive.
“Gladly,” Jayce lies, like a liar.
Viktor thins his lips and follows after Hoskel and Shoola, with Jayce right behind him. The address has been poisoning his life for so long and now when it is about to happen, he finds himself hollow and empty.
“It would be best if today’s address is kept short,” Shoola throws over her shoulder. She is walking too fast for Viktor to try to keep up with her, but Jayce is also not really caring about following this particular decorum, so she is forced to stop and turn around to face them when they don’t answer at first. “The gala tonight is supposed to be a celebration. A long address could not do well, in such circumstances.”
Viktor scrunches his nose. Why is she telling them this, when Jayce’s speech has already been written, rewritten and sent to the Council to be accepted?
“You know my words,” Jayce says, equally as confused.
“Make them shorter,” Shoola says, unkindly.
It is rude, to be informed of such an ask this close to the address, but Jayce has no ground to protest. They make their way to the ballroom, where most people have indeed already gathered. Shoola’s smile is strained when she nods them goodbye and takes the struggling Hoskely by his elbow to lead him to where the Councillors are supposed to welcome some of the more important guests. Her pace is too fast not only for Viktor. Hoskel is positively struggling for breath and Viktor has to fight not to show the satisfaction he feels at the sight.
“This is going to be a long night,” Jayce says as he scans the crowd.
And long it is. People swarm them, eager to talk with Jayce, eager to see his new partner. Some of them are nice enough, but it is not an even number with the fake-laughing ones that seem to be the most desperate to get Jayce’s attention.
Jayce’s patience is wearing thin. His smile becomes fatigued and the grip he has on his glass he did not drink even once out of threatens to shatter it.
“Dance with me,” he finally asks Viktor, when his patience snaps, and he cannot take it anymore.
Jayce extends a hand to Viktor, which he cautiously accepts. He feels glances being thrown into their direction. This is flagrant. Flagrant. A bead of sweat rolls off his forehead when Jayce leads him to the dancefloor, and disappears behind the collar of his shirt when Jayce motions for Viktor to put his hand on his shoulder. He collapses his cane and pockets it, and only then Jayce extends their intertwined hands forward. The steps Jayce leads Viktor through are not too hard to follow, but Viktor is fried at the ends, too distracted to do them properly. He steps on Jayce’s foot once, twice, but Jayce does not even flinch.
“Lean on me,” he whispers into Viktor’s ear.
“I already am,” Viktor whispers back, but it is not entirely true, is it?
“I got you, V. Lean on me.”
So Viktor does. He no longer is really dancing, more relying on Jayce to move his body to the rhythm of a song he does not recognize. Jayce refrains from twirls or any other laborious movements that could be hard on Viktor’s leg, only leads them into an easy pattern that makes them a bit clumsy compared to other dancing couples, but is also manageable for them to keep up with for the whole duration of a song.
“Silco is watching us,” Jayce lowers his head to murmur only for Viktor to hear, a bit too calm for such monumental news, so Viktor does not register it at first.
But then.
Silco.
Silco is here.
Viktor’s head spins.
“Where is he?”
“On the right. Next to the bar.”
Jayce twists them so that Viktor can see Silco. It is brief, and Viktor only gets a glimpse of him, as he is shorter than Jayce is and it is hard to see what Jayce sees from his height.
It is impossible to miss the grimace on Silco’s face.
“Jayce.”
“What, baby?”
“Let’s go see our prototypes,” Viktor says in a clipped tone.
“We have a couple of minutes still before we have to go get ready, are you sure?”
“Jayce.”
Jayce thins his lips. “Okay. Okay. Let’s go, hm?”
It is a good thing that Viktor ushered them earlier, because his leg feels as if it has stopped working entirely, maybe from the dancing, maybe because Viktor has not had a proper rest for a long time now. It aches as Viktor makes his way to the backstage, makes them significantly slower. Backstage, their prototypes are already being prepared to be wheeled onto the stage, and only the death grip he has on Jayce’s forearm keeps him steady. The crowd makes way for them, perhaps eager to be close to the Man of Progress, but their gazes linger on Viktor’s outfit, a contrast to Jayce’s white clothes.
They reach the backstage entrance and Jayce closes the door behind them.
He is saying nothing, but the silence is telling enough. Viktor puts a hand to his lower back and lets his touch linger.
“Thank you,” he says quietly.
Jayce rests his forehead on the door and looks at Viktor from under his fringe. It is long enough to be falling into his eyes.
He looks tired.
“You don’t have to thank me.”
“Perhaps. But, Jayce, I really appreciate what you are doing for me and I just- You should know what it means to me. I see all of it. You have been running yourself ragged, all to keep me warm.”
Jayce’s tenses under Viktor’s touch.
“I’m not- This is not a problem for me, V.”
“Thank you,” Viktor reapats, this time with emphasis.
“The address will begin in two minutes,” one of the clipboard wielding assistants interrupts them, pointing at the stairs that lead onstage.
Two minutes. Two minutes.
Viktor’s heart is beating so fast he can hear the murmur of his own blood pumping in his ear.
Viktor grabs Jayce’s hand. There is one more thing he has to ask for, and he loathes that it might reflect badly on Jayce.
“Jayce. Let me speak,” he says with a trembling voice. “I want to be the one to speak.”
His hand is damp in Jayce’s grasp, but Jayce immediately turns to look him in the eye. Viktor barely sees his face, obscured by the shadows, but he feels Jayce’s heavy gaze on his skin like it were a blanket.
“Viktor. Baby. Are you sure?”
“I have to do it. Please.”
Jayce puts his hand on Viktor’s shoulder and squeezes.
“Lead the way, then?”
Viktor nods.
The crowd falls silent as they come onto the stage.