Chapter Text
Jayce woke early with his heart already thudding and this tightness in his chest that had him staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes which made it clear to him today would not be a great day.
Eventually, he managed to turn his head to the side where he could watch the slow rise and fall of Viktor’s chest as he breathed.
He always looked the calmest when he was asleep.
Jayxe feels the nausea roll in and he has to force himself out of bed, careful as to not wake Viktor.
Jayce grabbed the first shirt he could find and walked down the hall, squinting as he flicked the bathroom light on. He closed and locked the door then rummaged in the cabinet below the sink and rummaged around before finding the test he hid.
He sat down on the toilet, elbows braced on his knees, breathing through his mouth like that might somehow keep his stomach from betraying him.
Jayce opened the box with trembling hands.
Then he tore open the wrapper, set the trash down on the edge of the sink counter and stood back up.
He tugged down his pants and briefs then grabbed the test again.
“Okay,” he muttered to himself. “Okay.”
He sat back down.
Jayce held the test steady as he angled it then peed.
The moment it was done, he pulled it, shook the excess off the stick, then laid it down on the counter.
He sat there looking down at his feet for two minutes, maybe three.
“Okay,” he said aloud, voice shaky. “It’s fine. Whatever it says, it's not the end of the world, right?”
Finally, he turned his head to finally look at it.
“Oh.”
Two lines.
He stared at it as if it might change if he looked long enough. As if the result might fade, or blur, or reveal itself as some kind of cruel optical illusion.
Positive.
Jayce’s hands started shaking.
“No,” he whispered, the word coming out thin. “No, no, no—”
He picked it up, turning it over like that would help, like the answer might be hiding on the back. His pulse roared in his ears. His thoughts began to spiral, one tripping over the next, impossible to grab hold of.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. They hadn’t talked about children in a serious matter. Sure they knew that someday maybe they'd have kids. But not today, or in the next four years. They had been careful. Mostly careful. Careful enough that Jayce had never let himself imagine that something like this could have happened to him.
And yet here it was, sitting in his shaking hand while he sat on the toilet at some godforsaken hour of the morning.
His stomach lurched again, and suddenly every single thing he brushed off over the past few weeks came crashing back into focus.
The nausea. Gods, the nausea. He told himself it was stress, lack of sleep, too much coffee on an empty stomach. He worked long hours. Feeling sick in the mornings wasn’t exactly unusual.
The cravings. The way he had woken up desperate for citrus of all things, tearing through the kitchen for an orange at three in the morning. The way he nearly cried when Viktor finished the last of the pickles without realizing Jayce had been saving them. He laughed it off then, embarrassed, calling himself ridiculous.
How he'd snap one moment, near tears the next. The sudden, overwhelming urge to sit down on the floor of the lab because everything felt like too much. He blamed it on burnout. On pressure. On being tired.
Jayce rubbed a hand over his face, suddenly aware of how exhausted he felt. He’d been sleeping more and still waking up like he’d run miles.
All of it lined up now, brutally, mercilessly clear.
“Oh my gods,” he breathed, leaning forward, forearms resting on his thighs, the test clenched in his fist. His leg bounced uncontrollably. “Oh my gods.”
A baby.
The word felt unreal, like a foreign language he didn’t understand. A baby meant new, all-consuming responsibility. It meant changes. It meant risks. It meant his body, his work, his future, all rearranging themselves whether for this thing.
And what about Viktor?
Viktor, who already carried the weight of his own fragile health. Viktor, who pushed himself past reason because he believed so fiercely in what they were building. Viktor, who looked at Jayce like he was something solid and safe in a world that rarely was.
How was he supposed to say this? How was he supposed to look Viktor in the eye and tell him that everything was about to change?
Jayce pressed his free hand against his mouth, trying to steady his breathing. Panic clawed at his chest. What if Viktor thought this was a mistake? What if he thought Jayce had been careless, irresponsible? What if he thought Jayce couldn’t handle this, couldn’t be trusted with something so fragile?
What if Jayce couldn’t handle it?
His gaze flicked back to the test, and his vision blurred. He hadn’t even realized he was crying until a tear dropped onto the tile between his feet.
“This can’t be real,” he whispered, even as the test told him otherwise. Even as something deep and instinctive twisted in his chest—something protective. Something terrifyingly tender.
Jayce sat there for a long time, eventually, he managed to set the test down back on the counter. He wiped his face with the heel of his hand, trying to pull himself together.
There was a soft knock on the bathroom door.
Jayce nearly jumped out of his skin.
“Jayce?” Viktor’s voice came through the wood. “You... you have been gone a while. Are you all right?”
Jayce sucked in a sharp breath, heart hammering so hard he was sure Viktor could hear it from the other side. He stared at the door like it was about to swing open.
“I—” His voice cracked. He swallowed hard and tried again, forcing something closer to normal. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”
Jayce could picture him standing there in the hallway, probably leaning on his cane, brow furrowed in that way he got when something didn’t quite add up.
“You sound... strained,” Viktor said gently. “Did something happen?”
Jayce’s mind raced, panic scrambling his thoughts into useless static. He couldn’t tell him. Not now. Not like this, sitting on the toilet with his hands shaking and his chest caving in on itself.
“I’m just—uh—” He grasped at the first thing that made any sense at all. “Peeing.”
Viktor gave a quiet, almost amused huff. “You sound nervous,” he pointed out. “You know, it is not necessary to narrate your bodily functions to me.”
Jayce let out a shaky, half-laugh. “Yeah, well. You knocked.”
“I was worried,” Viktor replied simply. “You vanished before I woke, and then you did not return.”
“I just couldn’t sleep,” Jayce said, which at least wasn’t entirely a lie. He leaned his head back, eyes squeezing shut. “Stomach’s a little off. Probably nothing.”
“Mmm,” Viktor hummed. “You have been saying that a lot lately.”
A fresh wave of panic washed over him. Did Viktor know? Had he noticed more than Jayce realized?
Before he could spiral any further, Viktor spoke again. “I will make breakfast. Something bland, perhaps. Toast. Tea. You can join me when you are finished... peeing.”
Jayce snorted despite himself, then immediately felt guilty for it. “Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute.”
“Do not rush,” Viktor assured. “I will be in the kitchen.”
Jayce listened to Viktor’s footsteps fade down the hall. When it went quiet again, the tension he’d been holding finally snapped.
“Oh, shit,” he whispered.
Breakfast. Sitting across from Viktor. Looking at him. Pretending everything was normal while this—this—sat between them like a loaded weapon. How was he supposed to do that?
He stood abruptly, the movement making his head spin. He paced the small bathroom, running a hand through his hair, breathing too fast. Telling Viktor felt impossible. Not telling him felt worse. The thought of seeing Viktor’s face when he found out—surprise, fear, disappointment, hope, some impossible mix of all of it—made Jayce’s chest ache.
“I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t do this right now.”
His gaze fell on the trash can beside the sink. Empty except for a few tissues, the liner folded neatly over the rim. For a long moment, he just stood there, staring at it, his mind screaming at him that this was a terrible idea even as his hands moved.
Carefully, Jayce placed the test back into the box then wrapped it in toilet paper until it disappeared completely. Then dropped it into the trash.
It landed with a soft, almost inaudible sound.
Jayce shoved the liner down, burying it beneath more paper, then pressed the lid closed like that might seal the truth away with it. His hands shook as he turned on the sink and washed them, watching the soapy water swirl down the drain.
“Okay,” he whispered to his reflection, which looked pale and wide-eyed and utterly disheveled. “Okay. Just... get through breakfast.”
Jayce opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the apartment.
The smell of toast and something lightly spiced—tea, probably—hung in the air. It should have been comforting. Instead, it made his stomach twist all over again.
Viktor was in the kitchen, one hand steadying himself on the counter while the other flipped a piece of toast onto a plate. His hair was still mussed from sleep. He already fed the pets; Jayce could see them near the window, side by side at their bowls.
Mercury, his cat, ate intensity, tail flicking lazily as she crunched through her food. Beside her, Rio—Viktor’s waverider.
Jayce’s chest tightened at the sight.
“Good morning,” Viktor said without looking up. “You survived your... extended visit?”
Jayce forced a smile and leaned against the doorframe. “Yeah. Thrilling stuff.”
Viktor's brow lifted. “You sure?”
“I am fine,” Jayce said a little too quickly. He crossed the kitchen and grabbed a mug, wrapping both hands around it even though it was still empty. “Just—stomach thing. It’s over.”
“Mmm.” Viktor poured tea and slid a new mug toward him. “You said that yesterday. And the day before.”
Jayce sat the empty mug down and stared into the steam rising from the new cup. “I say a lot of things.”
“That does not make them all true.”
Jayce took a sip of tea, nearly burning his tongue, and welcomed the sharp sting of it. “You already fed Mercury,” he said, nodding toward the window.
“And Rio,” Viktor added. “They were both very insistent. Your cat attempted to climb the food container.”
Mercury chose that moment to glance up, ears twitching, then went right back to eating as if she’d done nothing wrong. Jayce huffed a weak laugh.
“Yeah, that tracks.”
They sat down at the small kitchen table together, plates of toast between them. Jayce picked at his food, breaking it into pieces instead of actually eating. Viktor noticed immediately.
“You are not hungry?” Viktor asked.
“I am,” Jayce lied. Then, correcting himself hastily, “I mean—just not a lot. I’ll eat.”
He took a bite, chewing slowly, forcing it down despite the queasy churn in his stomach. Across from him, Viktor watched with concern, his gaze flicking from Jayce’s face to his hands, then back again.
“You did not answer when I asked if something was wrong.”
Jayce’s shoulders tensed. “I told you. Bathroom stuff.”
“Yes,” Viktor nodded. “You did. Repeatedly.”
Jayce swallowed. “Do we really need to dissect my bathroom habits over breakfast?”
Viktor’s mouth twitched, the faintest hint of a smile. “No. But I would like to know when my partner is unwell.”
“I’m not unwell,” Jayce snapped, a little sharper than he meant to. He immediately softened. “I mean—nothing serious. Just one of those off mornings. You know.”
Viktor studied him for a long moment. Jayce felt pinned in place, every instinct screaming at him to look away, to say something else, anything that would keep the truth buried where he’d left it.
Finally, Viktor nodded. “Very well,” he said. “I will not interrogate you.”
Relief flooded Jayce so suddenly it left him lightheaded. “Thanks.”
They ate quietly. The usual easy rhythm between them was off. Jayce kept his focus on his plate, on the scrape of knife against toast, on the sound of Mercury’s purring as she finished her meal and leapt up onto the windowsill.
Viktor sipped his tea. “If it worsens,” he said after a moment, “you will tell me.”
Jayce nodded, the motion stiff. “Yeah. Of course.”
The lie sat heavy in his chest.
After breakfast Jayce carried their plates to the sink and rinsed them a little too aggressively, focusing on the sound of running water because it gave his hands something to do and his mind something else to cling to. Viktor lingered at the table for a moment, finishing his tea, observing Jayce which made him feel like he was being taken apart piece by piece.
“You do not have to scrub the plate to dust,” Viktor said at last.
Jayce laughed. “Right. Sorry.”
He set the plate in the rack and wiped his hands on a towel, then leaned back against the counter. Viktor walked over to join him.
“I’ll—uh—make sure Mercury has enough food.” Jayce said to get away.
They separated, each gravitating toward their respective corners of responsibility like they always did, but Jayce couldn’t shake the feeling that he was moving through someone else’s morning. He topped off Mercury’s bowl, then crouched to scratch behind her ears. She purred loudly, pressing her head into his hand.
“You’ve got it good,” Jayce murmured. “No existential dread. Just food and naps.”
Mercury blinked slowly at him, unimpressed.
Across the room, Viktor knelt beside Rio who laid on her bed, the waverider watched him intently, tail swishing lazily. Viktor spoke to her softly, words too quiet for Jayce to catch which caused a strange ache bloom in his chest at the sight. Viktor took care of things with such quiet devotion.
How was Jayce supposed to add something this big to Viktor’s life without breaking that careful balance?
They eventually got dressed. Jayce tugged on his work clothes, fingers fumbling with buttons he’d fastened a thousand times before. Viktor adjusted his brace. Normally, Jayce would help without thinking—offer a hand with some half-distracted comment about the day ahead.
Today, he hovered, uncertain, afraid that if he touched Viktor he might break.
“You are unusually quiet,” Viktor noticed, glancing at him as he slid his coat on.
Jayce snapped back to attention. “Just... thinking about work.”
“Mm,” Viktor replied. “You are lying.”
Jayce grimaced. “You really need to stop knowing me so well.”
Viktor’s lips curved faintly. “I'm afraid that cannot be done.”
They gathered their bags, checked the windows, turned off lights. Viktor double-checked Rio as Mercury weaved around their ankles, clearly displeased with the idea of being left behind.
“Guard the place,” Jayce told her solemnly, crouching to give her one last scratch. “No unauthorized intruders. You’re in charge.”
Mercury flicked her tail, already losing interest.
They stepped out together, locking the door behind them. The hallway echoed softly as they walked, their footsteps falling into sync despite everything. The morning air hit Jayce as soon as they exited the building.
As they headed toward their car, Jayce stole a glance at Viktor walking beside him unaware of the storm Jayce was carrying just under his skin.
Soon, Jayce knew, soon wouldn’t be an option anymore.
They signed in, exchanged brief greetings with colleagues, and made their way into the building. The lab was tucked away in one of the quieter wings, far enough from the main workshops that the noise dulled to a low, tolerable hum. Jayce usually liked it there. But being in there meant he couldn't get away from Viktor.
The door slid open.
“Good morning!”
Sky’s voice cut through the tension. She was perched on a stool near the central worktable, sleeves rolled up. A tablet was in her hands. Several containment cases sat open on the table, each holding one of the gemstones.
“There you are,” she greeted, smiling. “I was starting to think you’d abandoned me to stare at these things alone.”
“Tempting,” Jayce replied, forcing a grin. “But then who’d make the bad decisions?”
Sky laughed. “Fair point.”
Viktor set his bag down and moved closer to the table, eyes drawn to the gemstones. “Any changes overnight?” he asked.
“None,” Sky replied, hopping off the stool. “They’re still refusing to do anything interesting.”
Jayce exhaled slowly, his gaze settling on the stones.
There were six of them, each resting in its own containment cradle. Each gemstone glowed faintly from within, light shifting subtly beneath the surface—never bright enough to be useful, never dim enough to ignore.
They’d been handed off to the three of them months ago, along with a thin folder of notes and a shrug from the higher-ups.
It was busywork.
Except the longer Jayce stared at them, the more they felt like anything but meaningless.
Sky tapped her tablet, pulling up graphs and models. “I reran the old data from the previous researchers last night,” she explained. “Different conditions, different configurations. They tried heat, pressure, resonance—nothing.”
“But they glow,” Jayce pointed out. “So it has to mean something.”
“Yeah,” Sky replied. “Maybe they're mocking us.”
Jayce snorted despite himself, then felt his stomach churn again. He straightened subtly, breathing through it, hoping neither of them noticed.
Viktor did.
“You should sit,” Viktor said quietly.
Jayce opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it and grabbed a chair. “I’m fine,” he added reflexively, settling anyway.
Sky glanced between them but didn’t comment, mercifully. “I was thinking,” she redirected, “what if we’re approaching this wrong? What if they’re not meant to be activated?”
Jayce frowned. “You mean they’re passive?”
“Or responsive,” she suggested. “Maybe they don’t react to force or input. Maybe they react to context.”
“Previous teams focused on extraction,” Viktor tilted his head as he stared at them. “Power output. Application. Perhaps the stones are not tools.”
“Maybe they’re interfaces,” Sky said, eyes lighting up. “Or anchors. Something meant to connect to something else.”
Jayce reached out without thinking, stopping just short of touching one of the gemstones. Heat—or maybe something like it—radiated faintly against his skin.
He pulled his hand back quickly.
“Okay,” he said, forcing a lighter tone. “That’s creepy.”
Sky smiled, but there was an edge of excitement there. “Creepy is where the fun stuff usually starts.”
They worked for hours.
For brief stretches, Jayce almost forgot.
Then the nausea would roll through again, or fatigue would weigh on his limbs, or he’d catch Viktor watching him with concern, and reality would crash back in.
They repositioned the gemstone that had pulsed, adjusting its cradle, altering the ambient field strength by fractional increments. Numbers shifted. Lights flickered. The stone remained stubbornly inert.
“Nothing,” Sky said after several minutes. “No response.”
They worked through the late morning, then into the afternoon. At some point, Sky brought up lunch, but Jayce waved it off, claiming he wasn't hungry. Viktor raised an eyebrow but didn’t push.
Sky eventually left for a bathroom break, leaving Jayce and Viktor alone in the lab.
“You are not fine,” Viktor said at last, turning to face him fully.
Jayce stiffened. “Can we not do this right now?”
Viktor’s expression softened, concern overtaking frustration. “I am not interrogating you,” he said gently. “I am... worried.”
Jayce looked away, jaw tight. He couldn’t tell him. Not here.
“I just need to get through today,” Jayce said. “Okay?”
Viktor studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Very well. But this conversation is not finished.”
Jayce managed a small, grateful smile. “I know.”
Sky returned, oblivious, chattering about a new hypothesis involving harmonic resonance.
Late in the afternoon, as fatigue settled deep into his bones, Jayce’s vision swam as he leaned over the worktable, numbers blurring on the display in front of him. He blinked hard, once, twice, telling himself it was nothing—too much standing, not enough food, bad morning carrying over into a bad afternoon. He shifted his weight, planting his feet more firmly.
The room tilted anyway.
Jayce sucked in a sharp breath and reached out blindly, fingers grazing the edge of the table. His stomach lurched, heat rushing up his spine, a wave of dizziness so strong it made his knees go weak.
“Okay,” he muttered under his breath. “Okay—”
“Jayce.”
Viktor’s voice cut through the haze immediately, closer than it had been a second ago. A hand closed around his forearm, firm without being rough.
“You are swaying,” Viktor muttered. “Sit. Now.”
Jayce opened his mouth to argue, then thought better of it. The lab floor felt very far away all of a sudden. He let Viktor guide him to the nearest chair, the world still pitching unpleasantly as he sat down heavily.
“I’m fine,” Jayce said automatically, even as he leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, head hanging between his shoulders. His pulse thudded in his ears.
Viktor did not let go.
His hand stayed on Jayce’s arm, thumb pressing lightly as if to ground him. “You are not,” he said quietly. “And you have been saying that all day.”
Jayce swallowed. He stared at the floor, willing the spinning to stop. “Just... stood up too fast. Or something.”
“You were standing already,” Viktor replied.
Jayce huffed a weak, humorless laugh. “Okay, so—bad air.”
Viktor did not smile.
Sky hovered a few steps away, concern written plainly across her face. “I can take over for a bit,” she offered gently. “You want me to shut everything down?”
“No,” Jayce said quickly, lifting his head just enough to meet her eyes. “No, don’t stop. Just—give me a minute.”
Sky hesitated, then nodded. “I’ll be at the bench if you need me.” She retreated, giving them space.
Viktor crouched in front of Jayce, lowering himself carefully until they were eye level.
“How long has this been happening?” Viktor asked.
Jayce’s jaw tightened. He looked away again. “It’s nothing serious.”
Viktor sighed softly. “Jayce.”
The single word carried so much weight it made Jayce’s chest ache. He rubbed a hand over his face, fingers pressing into his eyes.
“I just need a break,” he said. “That’s all. I’ll be good in a minute.”
Viktor studied him, gaze flicking over his posture, the pallor of his skin, the way his hands trembled faintly where they rested on his knees. “You are pale,” he realized. “And unsteady. And nauseous, if your expression is any indication.”
Jayce winced. “I always look like that.”
“That is untrue.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and uncomfortable. The dizziness eased slightly, leaving behind a heavy, bone-deep exhaustion that made Jayce want to curl in on himself.
Viktor’s voice softened. “Did something happen this morning?”
Jayce’s heart skipped. He swallowed hard, the words clogging in his throat like they physically couldn’t get past his teeth. Images flashed—the test, the two lines, the trash can lid closing.
“I don’t—” His voice caught. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Viktor did not press immediately. He shifted closer instead, one hand resting lightly on Jayce’s knee. “All rightm Then tell me this—are you in pain?”
Jayce shook his head. “No.”
“Are you ill?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Are you hiding something from me?”
The question landed too close to the truth. Jayce flinched before he could stop himself.
Viktor noticed.
His brows knit together, concerned deepening into something sharper. “Jayce...”
Jayce squeezed his eyes shut, breath hitching. “I just—please. I promise I’ll tell you. Just not right now.”
For a long moment, Viktor said nothing. Then he nodded once.
“Very well,” he said. “But you are taking a break. And you are not standing up again until the color returns to your face.”
Jayce let out a shaky breath. “Deal.”
Viktor’s hand remained on his knee, a quiet anchor. Jayce leaned into the contact without thinking, the simple presence of him easing the tightness in his chest even as the secret between them pressed heavier than ever.
Nothing catastrophic happened after that flare—when the final logs were saved and the gemstones secured for the night, Sky stretched and glanced at the time.
“Wow,” she said. “Didn’t realize it was that late. Guess that’s my cue before security locks me in here again.”
Jayce managed a tired smile. “Probably wise.”
Viktor gathered his things slowly. “We will continue tomorrow,” he said to her. “Do not overthink it tonight.”
She laughed softly. “You say that like it’s possible. See you both in the morning.”
Once she was gone, the lab felt cavernous. Jayce exhaled, tension bleeding out of him now that he didn’t have to keep himself composed for anyone else. His shoulders slumped.
“You should not have pushed yourself,” Viktor said quietly as they headed for the door.
Jayce shrugged into his coat. “Didn’t really feel optional.”
Viktor didn’t argue. He just watched Jayce with that same worried look as they walked out together.
Outside, the city had shifted into night. Streetlights glowed amber, reflecting off damp stone and metal. Jayce welcomed the cool air—it helped settle his stomach, at least a little. They got into the car, the doors closing with a thump that made Jayce feel strangely safe.
Viktor adjusted his seat, then glanced over as he started the engine. “You have eaten very little today.”
Jayce leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. I know.”
“What would you like for dinner?”
Jayce stared up at the dark ceiling of the car, letting himself actually think about it. His stomach rolled—not violently this time, just... insistently. A few options crossed his mind and immediately made him feel worse.
Jayce opened his eyes and looked out at the street sliding past as they pulled away. “Burgers,” he said finally.
Viktor’s mouth curved into a small smile. “That I can do.”
They drove quietly for a while, the hum of the radio filling the space between them. Jayce watched the city lights blur by, exhaustion settling deep into his bones now that the adrenaline of the day had worn off. His hand rested loosely in his lap, fingers flexing absently.
“Jayce,” Viktor said after a few minutes, not taking his eyes off the road. “Earlier. In the lab.”
Jayce’s chest tightened, but Viktor continued before he could panic.
“We do not have to talk tonight,” Viktor said. “But we will.”
Jayce nodded, even though Viktor couldn’t see it. “I know.”
They pulled into a small place—nothing flashy, just a low building with bright signage and the comforting smell of grilled meat and frying potatoes drifting out into the night. Jayce felt his stomach actually agree with him for once.
Inside, Viktor handled ordering the food, making sure Jayce sat while he waited.
Jayce watched him from the booth, feeling a strange mix of guilt and gratitude twist together in his chest.
When the food arrived, the smell alone made Jayce’s mouth water. He took a bite, then another. To his surprise, it stayed down.
“Good choice,” Viktor said, watching him carefully.
Jayce huffed a tired laugh. “I’m right more often than you admit.”
When they got home, Jayce locked the door behind them and leaned back against it, letting the solid weight of it settle him. Viktor set his bag down, loosening his coat.
“I will take Rio out,” Viktor said, reaching for the leash. “It is not cold yet.”
Jayce nodded. “I’ll get their food.”
They split off without another word. Jayce crouched by the cabinet, scooping out measured portions. Mercury appeared instantly, winding around his ankles and meowing with impatience. Rio waited more patiently by the door, tail flicking, eyes bright as Viktor clipped the leash on.
“Yeah, yeah,” Jayce muttered fondly, setting the bowls down. Mercury dove in immediately. Jayce watched for a moment, then straightened, listening as Viktor and Rio stepped out into the hallway, the door closing softly behind them.
The apartment felt too quiet without Viktor’s presence.
Jayce rubbed a hand over his face and headed for the bathroom. The shower steamed up quickly, heat enveloping him the moment he stepped under the spray. He let his head fall forward, water pounding against his shoulders, trying—failing—to let the day wash off him.
The truth pressed against his ribs like it was running out of space.
He stayed in longer than usual, until the heat started to make him lightheaded. When he finally shut the water off and toweled dry, his reflection looked worn, eyes shadowed, shoulders slumped. He avoided meeting his own gaze for too long.
Wrapped in his pajamas, he stepped back into the apartment just as the front door opened. Viktor came in with Rio, unhooking the leash and hanging it neatly by the door.
“All settled?” Viktor asked.
“Yeah,” Jayce said. “I’m gonna... turn in.”
Viktor paused, glancing at him. There was something unsaid there—something hovering just beneath the surface—but Jayce was already moving past him, toward the bedroom.
“I will shower,” Viktor said after a beat. “I will not be long.”
Jayce nodded again. “Take your time.”
He walked to the bed, sitting down before easing back onto the mattress.
Almost immediately, Mercury jumped up beside him, circling once before settling against his side, purring softly. A moment later, Rio walked in and curled up near his legs.
Jayce let out a slow breath and rested a hand on Mercury’s back, the steady vibration of her purr grounding him. He stared up at the ceiling, listening to the distant sound of the shower turning on.
If he slept, it would buy him time. Delay the conversation. Delay the moment where he had to put words to the thing that still felt too big to say out loud.
He shifted slightly, careful not to disturb either of them, and closed his eyes. His mind refused to quiet, thoughts looping relentlessly, but his body was exhausted enough to drag him downward anyway.