[ jayce tries another time not to react as much as he does, but his entire rewired biology keeps him from doing such a thing. cervids are reactive by nature. his ears flip, both direct themselves forward in viktor's direction, the fur lining it quivering with his gaze caught in headlights before he could have the fighting chance at prying them away. it matters not how viktor's eyes were, whether they were reminders of the missed past or the bittersweet present— they would always enrapture him.
jayce breathes in, words catch on his tongue like they're not sure which way they want to cut, and losing the presumed edge they'd have by the minute. jayce breathes them out anyway, low and refined with a ghost of warmth that refuses to die. a briefly darting gaze sliding down and back up. something feels . . . bitter, on his tongue. he stares at viktor now with diminished distance, enticed like a moth to a flame— and knowing he's been caught in the pyre. or, perhaps, what he's always wanted: he just wants viktor back. his partner. his desire does not change. he wished he could be the same man viktor needed— but could he?
jayce was always a terrible liar. honesty, it is. ]
Means you can make anywhere feel like somewhere I'd want to stay. [ it sounds, for a heartbeat, like something tender. Like he's talking about those nights when the two of them made the most unremarkable corners of piltover into places worth remembering. a workshop floor littered with tools and half-finished dreams. but the weight in his voice says the rest: ] Even when I know better.
[ he's talking about now, too, about the places viktor's pulled him back into against his better judgment. things that he could not fathom pretending they didn't happen. it would hurt him all the more. his ears fold flat in the next breath, the tail's twitch betraying the fact he wishes he could swallow the words whole.
but if viktor is receptive to speaking with him, then . . . should they not try to speak? it's not as if jayce wanted this interference. it was more of an . . . inevitability, given their circumstances and choices. hadn't he, after all— done the same to viktor? ]
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2025-08-15 05:12 pm (UTC)jayce breathes in, words catch on his tongue like they're not sure which way they want to cut, and losing the presumed edge they'd have by the minute. jayce breathes them out anyway, low and refined with a ghost of warmth that refuses to die. a briefly darting gaze sliding down and back up. something feels . . . bitter, on his tongue. he stares at viktor now with diminished distance, enticed like a moth to a flame— and knowing he's been caught in the pyre. or, perhaps, what he's always wanted: he just wants viktor back. his partner. his desire does not change. he wished he could be the same man viktor needed— but could he?
jayce was always a terrible liar. honesty, it is. ]
Means you can make anywhere feel like somewhere I'd want to stay. [ it sounds, for a heartbeat, like something tender. Like he's talking about those nights when the two of them made the most unremarkable corners of piltover into places worth remembering. a workshop floor littered with tools and half-finished dreams. but the weight in his voice says the rest: ] Even when I know better.
[ he's talking about now, too, about the places viktor's pulled him back into against his better judgment. things that he could not fathom pretending they didn't happen. it would hurt him all the more. his ears fold flat in the next breath, the tail's twitch betraying the fact he wishes he could swallow the words whole.
but if viktor is receptive to speaking with him, then . . . should they not try to speak? it's not as if jayce wanted this interference. it was more of an . . . inevitability, given their circumstances and choices. hadn't he, after all— done the same to viktor? ]