[ jayce's meticulous planning falters. the silence strikes like a blow to the gut, and jayce sinks into viktor's back. his cheek presses a touch harder against the blade of his shoulder, murmuring quiet, steadfast decision. ]
You shouldn't— I'm sorry.
[ after everything with sky, it was probably a burden to ask of him, one more time, to do what haunts him. it's all so fresh— it's hard to keep track of their own times. jayce feels guilt creep along his spine, and the apologetic embrace his arms could give are the respite he could offer. silence was to come, but his words probably don't offer comfort. he used you, implying something.
maybe it was a burden he had to carry after all. but jayce was hardly one to hide his feelings, not from viktor. his voice cracks when he does, vulnerable and unfastened behind him. ]
. . . I need to go back, Viktor. [ it is a plea to understand. frightened syllables at the prospect of failure, of becoming stuck again. no one pulled him out of that ravine. the longer he waited, the more he erodes. he had to claw his way out, through the pain and grit, through the rain and the jutting crevices. it was no longer about spending their nights dreaming and creating, no matter how much he'd missed the simpler times. it was about viktor. and it pains him, on one hand, when he had viktor right here with him. it was . . . painfully tragic, to think that they are not meant to even meet. that this wasn't where he had to be. the more he thinks about it, the more confused jayce becomes with what he must do, because, what if this is what would save viktor? what if this leap farther behind was the answer, in a place beyond runeterra? jayce ends his silence with a harsh sigh that almost whines. ] I promised you.
[ the quiver and break of the precious word, promise is a clear enough signal to viktor: he's afraid. he's afraid to leave things entirely up to fate. he's unequipped for this ride, it unhinges completely from what he was told to do. ]
I don't— know what to do. I don't, [ he breathes in, ] want to fail you again.
no subject
You shouldn't— I'm sorry.
[ after everything with sky, it was probably a burden to ask of him, one more time, to do what haunts him. it's all so fresh— it's hard to keep track of their own times. jayce feels guilt creep along his spine, and the apologetic embrace his arms could give are the respite he could offer. silence was to come, but his words probably don't offer comfort. he used you, implying something.
maybe it was a burden he had to carry after all. but jayce was hardly one to hide his feelings, not from viktor. his voice cracks when he does, vulnerable and unfastened behind him. ]
. . . I need to go back, Viktor. [ it is a plea to understand. frightened syllables at the prospect of failure, of becoming stuck again. no one pulled him out of that ravine. the longer he waited, the more he erodes. he had to claw his way out, through the pain and grit, through the rain and the jutting crevices. it was no longer about spending their nights dreaming and creating, no matter how much he'd missed the simpler times. it was about viktor. and it pains him, on one hand, when he had viktor right here with him. it was . . . painfully tragic, to think that they are not meant to even meet. that this wasn't where he had to be. the more he thinks about it, the more confused jayce becomes with what he must do, because, what if this is what would save viktor? what if this leap farther behind was the answer, in a place beyond runeterra? jayce ends his silence with a harsh sigh that almost whines. ] I promised you.
[ the quiver and break of the precious word, promise is a clear enough signal to viktor: he's afraid. he's afraid to leave things entirely up to fate. he's unequipped for this ride, it unhinges completely from what he was told to do. ]
I don't— know what to do. I don't, [ he breathes in, ] want to fail you again.