[ us both . . . together. that makes jayce undeniably soft. if he still had tears in him, perhaps his eyes would sting some. with them all dried up, jayce's body language settles with his nipped brows, half-lidded eyes and pressed lips, partially curved. soft like whipped butter. he follows viktor's dipping head with a recline of his own, to catch the side of his features, dark lashes— the curves of his mouth falters at times, but not jayce's empathy. just as he finishes up the last of his spinal bolts (rubbing in between them, the skin around them, the thin muscle adjacent), jayce rises up the other's back with kneading, soothing pressure.
viktor had lost so much weight. he'd always noticed, and at times tried not to see it— it hurt too much. now, it is a simple reminder of the time he should be cherishing. ]
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viktor had lost so much weight. he'd always noticed, and at times tried not to see it— it hurt too much. now, it is a simple reminder of the time he should be cherishing. ]
You ran?
[ there is a gasp to that question. ]