[ jaybe not? only time would tell. viktor's knuckles knock gets his shoulders to lightly bounce along with the single breath of a smothered, aborted laugh. the mood. right.
he was getting bad at this, wasn't he? ]
Maybe. [ his hand reaches over the horizon of his arm to cup viktor's in gentle agreement. how many times had he seen viktor's apparition before him in front of the fire, begging him to say something, to touch him back, and all he'd get was empty eyes and silence. was this real? jayce almost had a crawling need under his skin to make sure. perhaps it's a bit delayed, and he doesn't let go, his thumb beginning to graze bone with tentative, maybe even excessive affection for one still reeling from too much in one day, before he turns his head halfway to look at him. make sure he was breathing. jayce feels his chest swell what felt like three times its size. ] Good night, Viktor.
[ he's asleep already. perhaps he didn't hear it, or feel what he did. maybe for the better of he didn't want to keep confusing him. jayce leaves it at that, allows his grip to slip away and keep to himself. he's more than grateful for every second he could still feel the weight of viktor's hand on his shoulder, rising and falling with the expanse of his brittle lungs. that's probably the only way jayce finds himself drifting away, eventually. viktor was with him.
jayce whimpers in his sleep. soft breaths of drowsy pain or fright. he shivers and curls further and further into himself; sometimes he jolts, through most of it he sweats cold. eventually, when he awakes in quick, shallow breaths of panic, he cannot immediately recall what he dreamed of— only that he was afraid, wildly tracking his eyes around his surroundings, with his heart about to hurl from his throat.
he realizes there is a hand still on him when he tries to squeeze himself.
the only way jayce calms is to turn towards viktor, careful, still in hopes that he hasn't disturbed him. he calms his breathing by watching him, matching him, taking his hand into his clammy palms and scooting just a bit closer. not by too much. just a bit. connecting his moles and observing his uneven cupid's bow soothed his startled heart and reminded him of his devotion. he was so close he could . . . brush his hair back. or press their foreheads together—
but he does not. his yearning would have to do, and eventually it's enough for him. he sleeps again, holding viktor's hand until a few more hours of botched rest. whether they still wake up to that and if it's addressed is another story.
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he was getting bad at this, wasn't he? ]
Maybe. [ his hand reaches over the horizon of his arm to cup viktor's in gentle agreement. how many times had he seen viktor's apparition before him in front of the fire, begging him to say something, to touch him back, and all he'd get was empty eyes and silence. was this real? jayce almost had a crawling need under his skin to make sure. perhaps it's a bit delayed, and he doesn't let go, his thumb beginning to graze bone with tentative, maybe even excessive affection for one still reeling from too much in one day, before he turns his head halfway to look at him. make sure he was breathing. jayce feels his chest swell what felt like three times its size. ] Good night, Viktor.
[ he's asleep already. perhaps he didn't hear it, or feel what he did. maybe for the better of he didn't want to keep confusing him. jayce leaves it at that, allows his grip to slip away and keep to himself. he's more than grateful for every second he could still feel the weight of viktor's hand on his shoulder, rising and falling with the expanse of his brittle lungs. that's probably the only way jayce finds himself drifting away, eventually. viktor was with him.
jayce whimpers in his sleep. soft breaths of drowsy pain or fright. he shivers and curls further and further into himself; sometimes he jolts, through most of it he sweats cold. eventually, when he awakes in quick, shallow breaths of panic, he cannot immediately recall what he dreamed of— only that he was afraid, wildly tracking his eyes around his surroundings, with his heart about to hurl from his throat.
he realizes there is a hand still on him when he tries to squeeze himself.
the only way jayce calms is to turn towards viktor, careful, still in hopes that he hasn't disturbed him. he calms his breathing by watching him, matching him, taking his hand into his clammy palms and scooting just a bit closer. not by too much. just a bit. connecting his moles and observing his uneven cupid's bow soothed his startled heart and reminded him of his devotion. he was so close he could . . . brush his hair back. or press their foreheads together—
but he does not. his yearning would have to do, and eventually it's enough for him. he sleeps again, holding viktor's hand until a few more hours of botched rest. whether they still wake up to that and if it's addressed is another story.
jayce won't bring it up if viktor doesn't. ]