Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Jayce woke before the sun, the grey-blue hour where the world would be just starting to wake up. Nausea rolled through him. For a moment he laid completely still, breathing carefully, hoping—futilely—that it would pass.

Beside him, Viktor slept on his side. At the foot of the bed, Rio was curled. And by Jayce’s head, perched right on the corner of his pillow, Mercury slept.

He eased himself upright. Mercury’s ears flicked, but she didn’t move until he swung his legs to the side—then she stretched, yawned, and hopped down to follow the moment his feet touched the floor.

Their bedroom was a disaster: clothes on the floor; Viktor’s scattered notes littered the dresser and desk; a mug with a forgotten tea bag sat on the nightstand, next to Jayce’s half-assembled project piece that he kept meaning to finish. The curtains weren’t drawn properly, one corner drooping low where the rod had bent months ago, letting in just enough predawn glow to cast blurry shapes across the floor.

Jayce navigated through it all by memory until he reached the hallway, one hand sliding along the wall for balance and direction. Mercury trotted close behind, her tail lightly brushing his ankle whenever he slowed. He didn’t bother turning on any lights; he didn't want to wake Viktor.

He reached the bathroom, nudged the door open, and let Mercury slip in before closing it behind them. If he didn't let her in she'd scream at the door. Then he switched on the light.

The bathroom was small but clean—at least compared to the bedroom. Pale tiles, slightly chipped along the edges, reflected the soft yellow overhead glow. A cluster of Jayce’s skin care, hairbrushes, and Viktor’s tools for tuning his braces lay spread around the sink. A towel was slumped over the shower rod.

Jayce didn’t even get a full breath in before the nausea surged again—he dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, barely making it in time as his stomach heaved violently. His hands shook against the cool porcelain, breath hitching between spasms.

It had been like this for weeks. Morning after morning of waking up queasy, sometimes dizzy, sometimes so exhausted that even sitting felt like work. He’d blamed stress, blamed bad sleep, blamed whatever takeout they’d eaten, blamed anything and everything.

 The nausea, the strange metallic taste in his mouth, the tight soreness low in his abdomen, the way certain smells suddenly made his stomach lurch—it all felt disconnected, like separate little problems that unfortunately lived in his body.

He paused, breath trembling, waiting for the next wave. 

Eventually he sat back on his heels, shoulders slumped, and exhaled slowly. Mercury bumped her head against his thigh with a soft chirp.

“Yeah,” he whispered, voice rough. “I’m fine.”

He brushed his teeth to get the sour taste out of his mouth, washed his face with cool water, then turned off the light. Mercury followed him again as he slipped quietly down the hall, careful on the creaking board near the door.

Back in the bedroom, the predawn light hadn’t changed—but Viktor had, just a little, shifting closer to Jayce’s side of the bed. Jayce eased back under the blankets, Mercury circling twice before settling against his chest.

He closed his eyes and hoped that in the next few hours he’ll feel better.

Morning came gently, Jayce stirred when a weight shifted beside him—then Viktor’s lips brushed his forehead, feather-light and warm.

“Good morning,” Viktor murmured, voice still thick with sleep.

Jayce blinked awake, the tightness in his stomach was gone. The tenderness in Viktor’s tone made something inside him soften. “Mm... morning.”

Viktor’s hair was tousled, pushed up unevenly on one side, and his eyes crinkled in that way Jayce loved as he smiled. Mercury crawled her way over Jayce’s ribs to wedge herself between them, purring loudly as if demanding to be included. Rio, sensing movement, lifted her head at the foot of the bed.

Viktor leaned into Jayce’s shoulder, Jayce kissed the top of his head, and for a while they simply existed in that soft pocket of warmth under their blankets.

Eventually, Jayce sat up fully, scrubbing a hand over his face. Viktor pushed himself upright with a small grunt, reaching for his cane.

“How did you sleep?” Jayce asked as he stretched, joints popping softly.

“Well enough,” Viktor replied. “You kept stealing the blanket.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.” Viktor gave him a teasing look.

Jayce laughed as he slid out of bed. “That’s a lie and you know it.”

They eventually got dressed and stepped out the bedroom. Their living area had a couch draped in blankets, in front of their tv, shelves filled with plants Jayce loved and tools Viktor kept for sentimental reasons. 

The sliding glass door to their balcony let morning light spill across the hardwood floors, illuminating the tiny herb garden Jayce was trying to keep alive outside. Beyond it, the city was beginning to wake.

Jayce headed straight into the kitchen, Mercury trotting behind him. The kitchen was small, but every inch was used: jars of spices on the counters, a few too many mugs beside it, and a pan already waiting on the stove. 

While Jayce cooked Viktor clipped Rio’s leash and stepped outside with her.

He plated breakfast just as Viktor came back inside. Viktor unclipped her then headed into the kitchen, brushing a hand along Jayce’s back.

They ate together, unhurried. Talking about the smaller things. Afterward, they finished getting ready—grabbing keys, tying shoes, patting pockets to make sure nothing was missing. The morning light followed them as they stepped out the door and headed toward the lot where their cars waited side by side.

Before parting, Viktor placed a hand on Jayce’s waist. Jayce leaned down. Their kiss was quick.

“Drive safe,” Viktor murmured.

“You too,” Jayce replied.

They shared one more quick kiss, then separated, each sliding into their respective cars before heading off toward work.

Morning traffic moved slow, usually Jayce would day-dream during this time, or listen to music. Not today. Not with the way his stomach kept flipping.

He cracked the window for air. The outside world smelled too sharp—fresh asphalt from somewhere up the block, the faint tang of a bakery he usually barely noticed. Today it all hit him like someone had turned the scent dial to maximum. A breeze drifted in, carrying something floral, and he winced as the sweetness turned his stomach again.

“Fantastic,” he muttered, rubbing his thumb along the steering wheel. 

It wasn’t just the nausea. His body felt... crowded somehow. He shifted in his seat, feeling the soft pressure of extra weight around his midsection. He knew he’d gained some, but he also hasn't had the time to exercise like he used to.

And then there was the emotional mess that was him these days. One stupid commercial last night had him tearing up over stray dogs. It wasn't unusual for him to tear it. But it was another when he'd start to sob snd Viktot had to hold him through it.

 He sighed and adjusted his shoulders, his shirt brushing lightly against his chest. That brought a whole new flare of discomfort. His nipples were sensitive—aching, almost—and even the soft fabric felt like too much. It hurt somedays to wear his binder. Like today. A few days ago he’d flinched when he bumped into a doorframe. He’d chalked it up to stress, to hormones, to... something.

His back ached lately too. His appetite was all over the place. Some nights he was starving; others the thought of food made him queasy. He’d been exhausted, bone-deep tired, falling asleep on the couch mid-sentence. And the headaches—those smaller, pulsing ones blooming behind his eyes—were becoming more frequent.

A thought, half-formed and ridiculous, tugged at him.

Could he be...?

His hands tightened on the wheel.

Immediately he shut it down. Absolutely not. Impossible.

Well—maybe not impossible, just... very unlikely. He and Viktor hadn’t exactly been careful during those couple weeks where he’d stopped his birth control to switch prescriptions. He’d intended to track everything, to be responsible like an adult, but Viktor had looked at him like he hung the moon and then—

Jayce felt heat rush to his face. No. No, no, no. That wasn’t it. He was just stressed. Work had been insane. His schedule had been thrown around so much he barely knew what day it was. That could explain everything. Probably. Mostly. Maybe.

He inhaled slowly through his nose—immediately regretted it when the scent of someone’s too-strong cologne through the window made his stomach churn—and rolled the window up.

Pregnant. The word echoed too clearly in his head.

He shook his head.

There was no way. He would know. He would feel something different. People didn’t just... accidentally end up—

He swallowed.

He wasn't.

...right?

The car behind him honked when he didn’t move quickly enough. Jayce jolted and eased forward with a shaky breath.

No. He wasn’t. He couldn’t be.

He stared ahead at the stretch of road, shoulders tight, the steady thump of his heart suddenly far too loud in his ears.

But doubt clung to him like static and impossible to ignore.

Jayce pushed through their labs door, the familiar hum of and the blue glow of Hextech welcoming him in. The morning light filtered through the wide atrium windows, glinting against suspended models of past Innovators Competition entries—his and Viktor’s old prototype among them, the one that had first pulled them into the orbit of the Academy itself.

Back then, Hextech had been little more than a dream. Now? Now it shaped half the research corridors on this floor. Now he and Viktor were elbow-deep in refining the newest project: the Hexgates, portals meant to send cargo across vast distances in seconds, bypassing hazardous seas and long transport routes entirely.

Viktor wasn’t here today. He’d warned Jayce last night that he'd be going down to Zaun to help Silco. 

The lab always felt a bit emptier without him.

Jayce exhaled and swiped into the private research wing. The door slid open, releasing a soft hiss of pressurized air and the sigh of cooling fans.

Sky was already there, hunched over a disassembled Hexcrystal, goggles pushed up into her hair. She looked up when she heard him, offering a bright but tired smile.

“Morning,” she called.

“Morning, Sky,” Jayce replied, setting his bag on the counter. “You’re here early.”

“I could say the same to you.” She angled her head. “You look... tired. Feeling okay?”

Jayce forced a shrug. “Just didn’t sleep well.”

She didn’t press, thankfully—Sky had a knack for knowing when to pry into Viktor’s problems but respected Jayce’s limits. They weren’t close, not really. Friendly, sure. She was Viktor’s person first and foremost. With Jayce she was cordial, professional, occasionally teasing, but she kept a bit of distance.

Which was fine. Sky was Viktor’s best friend.

He grabbed a pair of gloves and joined her at the workbench. The Hexgate model sat in pieces: crystalline plates humming faintly, brass frame half-assembled, runic circuitry flickering in shifting blues.

“I recalibrated the power distribution nodes,” Sky said as she tightened a screw. “But the output still spikes above safe thresholds when the gate stabilizes.”

Jayce frowned. “Even after rerouting the secondary channel?”

“Even then.”

He leaned over the schematic, tracing the lines with his finger. “Maybe the hex matrix is too sensitive to fluctuations. We could reinforce the lattice—add a buffer between the core and output conductor.”

Sky perked up. “That could work. It might dampen the feedback loop.”

They fell into a rhythm—adjusting, soldering, debating. There was something soothing about it, even with the faint nausea. Here, logic had shape. Cause-and-effect made sense in a way his own body didn’t.

Sky chatted as they worked, mostly about Viktor.

“He said he’d be back tomorrow,” she said, aligning two crystal slats with a faint click. “Silco’s projects always take longer than he expects.”

Jayce swallowed the flicker of worry. “He’ll be careful.”

Sky nodded. “Always.”

Silence settled again, broken only by the buzz of a tightening tool and the soft thrum of the core warming.

Jayce adjusted a piece and winced—his chest twinged, that same tenderness he wasn’t thinking about, wasn’t acknowledging. He angled himself to hide the discomfort.

Sky didn’t seem to notice. “We might get stable activation today if the core holds,” she said. Her eyes lit with optimism. “Heimerdinger will lose his mind.”

Jayce chuckled under his breath. “I’m hoping he doesn’t scold us again before praising us.”

“That is his process,” Sky smirked.

Hours slipped by in scattered conversation—simple, impersonal things: a new publication Sky had read, the coffee machine finally being replaced. Jayce, usually charismatic, found himself quieter than usual. Sky seemed comfortable filling the silence.

He appreciated that more than he’d ever tell her.

When the Hexgate model finally hummed with stable resonance—Sky stepped back and let out a triumphant laugh.

“We did it!”

Before Jayce could reply, a wave of nausea began to creep up his throat. Jayce blinked hard, swallowed, hoped it would fade. 

Sky was saying something—something about the outer lattice readings—but her voice blurred slightly, muffled around the pounding in his ears.

“You okay?” she asked, eyes narrowing as she glanced sideways at him.

“I’m fine,” Jayce said automatically. His voice came out tight, thin. He straightened, tried to steady himself, pressed a hand to the edge of the workbench.

The lab lights suddenly felt too bright. The faint metallic scent of the machinery hit his nose sharper than it should, turning his stomach violently.

Sky’s brow creased. “Jayce, you look pale.”

“I just—” He swallowed again, throat tightening. “Need a second.”

In a frantic motion he snatched the nearest trash bin, barely getting it into his lap before he retched. His entire body curled around the pain, elbows braced on his knees. The world narrowed to the echo of his own heaving breaths and the bitter burn rising up again and again.

Sky flinched at the sound but recovered immediately, not touching but hovering closely. “You’re okay. Keep breathing, just let it pass—”

Another wave hit. Jayce coughed, eyes watering, gripping the rim of the bin tightly.

It felt like forever before the nausea finally eased, leaving him shaky and cold. He spat weakly, chest trembling, and sagged back in his chair, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Stay there,” she said, firm in a way he’d only ever heard her use with Viktor when he was being exceptionally stubborn. She slipped across the lab, grabbed a cloth, and dampened it with water. “Don’t try to get up yet.”

Jayce groaned softly, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Sorry. I didn’t—It just came on so fast...”

“I noticed.” Sky handed him a damp cloth, then quickly sealed the trash bag and replaced the liner. 

Jayce wiped his face as she tossed the sealed bag into the disposal chute, washed her hands, then came back with a bottle of water. She twisted off the cap and pressed it gently into his hand.

“Small sips,” she instructed.

Jayce managed a few, the coolness soothing his raw throat. Shame prickled along his skin—he hated being seen like this, hated the idea of being worried about.

“I’m fine,” he tried again. The words wobbled.

“No, you’re not,” she said finally. “And you’re not staying.”

“Sky—”

“Nope.” She crossed her arms, her tone brooking no argument. “Jayce, you’ve been off for days. You nearly fainted on Tuesday, you went pale after lunch yesterday, and today you just threw up. You’re going home.”

“I can keep working,” he tried weakly.

She arched a brow—the expression Jayce had seen her use when shutting down Viktor’s more ill-advised self-neglect moments. “Absolutely not. Viktor would kill me if I let you pass out on the lab floor.”

Jayce winced at the thought of Viktor finding out. “He doesn’t need to—”

“Jayce,” she said softly but firmly, “go home and rest.”

He looked at her—really looked at her. Worry tugged at her expression.

She was genuinely concerned.

His shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him.

“...Okay,” he agreed “Yeah. I’ll go.”

Sky exhaled in relief, offering a small, encouraging smile.

“Good,” she said. “I’ll finish logging the readings. You go home before you throw up on something expensive.”

Despite everything, Jayce huffed out a weak laugh.

He stood slowly, still unsteady, Sky hovering close just in case. The room tilted once then steadied. She squeezed his shoulder briefly.

“Text me when you get home,” she said.

He nodded.

Jayce hadn’t meant to stop. He’d intended to go straight home like Sky told him—rest, hydrate, pretend nothing was wrong. But halfway down the main road, a glowing sign flickered into view:

Pharmacy — Open 24 Hours

Before he could talk himself out of it, he flicked his blinker on and pulled into the small lot, parking beneath the buzzing streetlamp. 

“This is stupid,” he muttered to himself, forehead resting against the steering wheel. “It’s nothing. It’s gotta be nothing.”

But denial couldn’t soften the memory of his symptoms swirling in his head—nausea, tenderness, fatigue, the ridiculous way he cried over everything. And missing birth control for two weeks. And Viktor’s very enthusiastic attention during that exact period.

He exhaled shakily and opened the door.

The automatic doors of Pharmacy slid open with a cheerful chime far too bright for his mood. The place smelled like disinfectant and lavender. Rows of fluorescent lighting cast a cold glow over the aisles, making everything too sharp, too bright.

Jayce rubbed at his eyes as he stepped inside. The clerk at the counter glanced up, offered a bored half-smile, and returned to scrolling on their phone. Good. He didn’t want attention.

He forced himself forward, walking past shelves of cough drops and vitamins, past a display of pastel baby blankets that he definitely did not look at too long. 

The pregnancy tests were in the back corner. Next to the family planning products and the racks of condoms. He hesitated at the end of the aisle, staring at the section like it was a cliff edge.

It was ridiculous how much his hands trembled.

Just grab one, he thought to himself. Just one.

But then he thought about false negatives, false positives, what if one didn’t work, what if—

He ended up grabbing three different brands.

They clattered awkwardly into the crook of his arm, boxes sliding when he tried to hold them discreetly. He felt heat rush to his face, like the entire store had suddenly turned its head to stare at him.

You’re being dramatic, he told himself. No one cares. No one knows.

But the embarrassment felt real and heavy as he walked toward the register.

The clerk looked up again as Jayce approached the counter. Their expression didn’t change.

“Everything alright?” they asked in a monotone voice.

“Yeah,” Jayce croaked. “Yeah, just... stocking up.”

Stocking up? Really? he mentally groaned.

The clerk scanned the boxes. “Need a bag?”

“Please,” he breathed, running a hand through his hair.

The tests slid into a small white bag, the plastic rustling far too loudly in the quiet space. Jayce paid quickly, fingers fumbling with his wallet, heart thudding unevenly.

“Have a good day,” the clerk said without looking up again.

Jayce nodded stiffly, grabbed the bag, and walked back out.

He sank into the driver’s seat, shutting the door with a dull thud. The bag sat in his lap. He stared at it.

Swallowed.

And whispered to no one, voice breaking around the edges:

“Please... let it be nothing.”

Jayce barely remembered the drive home—just the thrum of the engine under him, the constant glances of the bag in the passenger seat, the sinking pressure behind his ribs growing heavier with each passing block.

The moment he opened the apartment door, Rio came barreling toward him. Mercury wasn’t far behind.

Jayce managed a shaky laugh, dropping to one knee to rub Rio’s head and give Mercury a couple absentminded strokes between her ears. He tried—really tried—to sound normal.

“Hey, girls... yeah, I missed you too.”

His voice cracked.

He kicked off his shoes, almost stumbling over them, and headed straight down the hall. The bag swung gently at his side, its crinkling sounding too loud. He reached the bathroom door and hovered there, hand on the handle. For a full ten seconds he didn’t move.

Then he opened it.

As expected, Mercury shoved herself in before he could close it again, determined to supervise the entire ordeal whether he liked it or not. Jayce huffed out a trembling breath.

“Fine. Stay,” he whispered.

He set the bag on the counter and stared at it. His reflection in the mirror behind it looked pale, wide-eyed, frightened. He didn’t recognize himself.

Jayce opened the first box with fumbling hands.

His stomach rolled.

He washed his hands.

He read the instructions twice.

Then, finally—heart hammering so hard it hurt—he took the test.

It felt like an eternity passed while he placed it on the counter, Mercury winding anxiously around his ankles like she sensed the tension radiating off him. Jayce rested both palms flat on the edge of the sink, breathing shallowly, staring at the little white stick as though he could will it to stay blank.

A soft digital beep broke the silence.

Jayce froze.

His blood seemed to drain straight into the floor.

Positive.

His breath hitched. “No. No, that—it could be wrong.”

His hands shook as he dug into the bag, ripping open the second box with none of the care he’d shown minutes ago. Mercury jumped onto the counter to watch.

The second test.

Positive.

Jayce’s heartbeat stumbled. His vision blurred for a moment.

“No. No, it’s—” His voice cracked, high and tight. “They can’t all be right. It’s stress, or hormones, or—or something.”

He grabbed the last box desperately. The cardboard tore messily under his fingers. He didn’t even want to take this one. Didn’t want to know. Didn’t want confirmation.

But he couldn’t not take it.

Hands shaking so hard he nearly dropped it, he used the third test. Waited. Pacing. Stopping. Running a hand through his hair. Sitting, standing, sitting again. Breathing too fast. Mercury watched him, concerned chirps leaving her throat each time he passed by her.

The final beep sounded like the loudest thing in the universe.

Jayce turned slowly.

Positive.

His knees gave out.

He sank to the tile floor, back against the cabinet, breathing in shallow, panicked gasps.

“Oh my god,” he whispered. It came out broken. “No. I can’t—I can’t be—”

His words dissolved into a choked sob, tears finally spilling over. He pressed his hands to his face, shoulders shaking. The panic came in a heavy, crushing wave. The future raced toward him too fast—Viktor’s face if he told him, the labs, their careers, their plans that had never included this, not now, maybe not ever.

“I can’t do this,” Jayce cried softly into his palms. “I wasn’t supposed to—I’m not ready. Viktor’s not ready. What if he freaks out? What if I ruin everything?”

His breaths came in sharp, uneven gasps, too fast, too shallow.

Mercury jumped into his lap.

She pressed her forehead against his chest and purred. A grounding vibration. Her little paws pushed into him as though trying to knead the panic out of his ribs.

Jayce wrapped both arms around her, burying his face in her fur, tears dampening the soft coat.

“I’m pregnant,” he whispered, voice tiny and terrified. “I’m actually... pregnant.”

The word felt impossible. Unreal. 

Mercury purred harder.

Jayce sat on the bathroom floor, clutching his cat while the three positive tests stared back at him from the counter—silent, undeniable evidence that his entire life had just changed.

Jayce had barely stopped shaking when he heard the soft click of the apartment door unlocking, followed by the unmistakable tap-thump of Viktor’s cane.

Jayce froze.

“Jayce?” Viktor’s voice carried down the hall. “Are you home?”

Panic slammed into Jayce’s chest so hard it knocked the breath out of him. Not now. Not now not now not now—
He scrambled upright, wiping his face with the sleeve of his shirt, heart pounding so violently he felt sick all over again. He snatched up the tests with clumsy hands, nearly dropping one into the sink.

“Shit—fuck, no—” he hissed under his breath, mind spinning.

Another step. Viktor was in the hall.

“Jayce?” Viktor called again, closer this time. “Sky phoned me. She said you were unwell.”

Sky, I swear to God—Jayce cursed her inwardly, chest tight. He hadn’t expected her to reach out this fast. He hadn’t expected Viktor to rush home.

He yanked open the trash bin and shoved the tests deep under a wad of tissues, followed by the bag and boxes, burying the evidence as fast as he could. The sound of Viktor’s cane reached the very edge of the bathroom door.

Then a soft knock.

“...Jayce? Are you alright?”

Jayce’s pulse hammered against his throat. He took one last frantic glance around the room—no boxes visible, nothing left out. Mercury stared up at him, tail flicking anxiously.

“I’m fine,” Jayce blurted, voice too sharp, too high. He cleared his throat fast. “I’m—uh... I must’ve eaten something weird.”

Silence.

A heavy silence that made Jayce’s stomach flip.

Then Viktor spoke again. “I came home because I was worried.”

Guilt stabbed him hard.

Jayce swallowed, then forced himself to unlock the door. It opened with a soft creak, revealing Viktor standing in front of it, brows furrowed, eyes searching his face. He looked tired—he always looked tired after Zaun—but the worry made it worse.

“I’m fine,” Jayce repeated, softer now but no truer. “Really.”

Viktor’s gaze lingered on Jayce’s pale cheeks, the faint redness around his eyes, the stiffness in his shoulders. Jayce could see the moment Viktor didn’t believe him.

“...Are you sure?” Viktor asked quietly.

Jayce couldn’t handle his concern. It pressed against his ribs. He slipped past Viktor quickly, avoiding his eyes as he moved down the hall.

“I’m sure,” he insisted. “It’s nothing. I just need water. Or rest. Something.”

Mercury trotted after him, tail puffed, pausing only to glare at Viktor before catching up to Jayce’s heels.

Viktor turned slowly to watch him, lips parted like he wanted to say something else—but held back.

Jayce reached the living room and braced both hands on the back of the couch, taking in along, shaking breath.

He’d lied. He’d lied straight to Viktor’s face. Viktor, who worried. Who came home for him. Who kissed his forehead gently in the mornings. Who whispered goodnight into his hair.

Jayce’s throat tightened.

He had to tell him. He couldn’t bury this. Couldn’t hide three positive tests in the trash and pretend their entire future hadn’t changed.

He heard Viktor follow after him.

“Jayce,” Viktor said carefully, “lásko... what is going on?”

Jayce closed his eyes.

He needed to tell him.

The words lodged behind his teeth, trembling.

Jayce didn’t know how he made it through the rest of the afternoon without falling apart, but somehow he did—by clinging to normalcy like it was the only solid thing left in the room.

“I’m fine,” he kept insisting each time Viktor glanced at him too long, voice clipped, brittle around the edges.

Viktor didn’t argue, but he didn’t believe him either. Jayce could see it in the way he hovered—the two of them ended up on the couch with the TV murmuring softly, some lighthearted show playing episodes neither of them were really watching.

Viktor sat angled toward him, shoulders drawn tight, hands folded in his lap. Every few minutes he shifted as though fighting the urge to reach for Jayce. Jayce felt the weight of that restraint like a hand pressing into his spine.

At first, Viktor offered small comforts—asking if Jayce needed a blanket, tea, something to settle his stomach.

Jayce snapped quickly. “Viktor, stop. I’m fine.”

The words came out harsher than he meant. He flinched the moment they left his mouth. Viktor froze, then nodded.

He didn’t offer anything else after that.

But he didn’t move away, either. He stayed beside Jayce.

Jayce didn’t deserve tenderness right now. Not while he was lying. 

His thoughts looped endlessly:

Positive.
Pregnant
Tell him.

Every few minutes his throat tightened, vision blurring. He’d blink it away before Viktor noticed.

Dinner was quiet. Jayce forced down what he could—three bites, maybe four. Viktor noticed, but didn’t comment. Afterward, Jayce rose abruptly from the chair, hands shaking faintly.

“I’m... I’m just gonna head to bed,” he said, voice thin.

Viktor stood. Then stopped himself. “Are you sure you’re—”

“I’m fine,” Jayce said sharply, cutting him off. He regretted it instantly but didn’t take it back. “I just need sleep.”

Viktor’s brow creased, concern settling over him like a shadow. “Jayce—”

“I said I’m fine.”

The room fell quiet.

Jayce turned away before Viktor could answer, his eyes stinging. Mercury darted after him, brushing against his leg with frantic little chirps as if she could calm him down.

He fled to the bedroom.

Once inside, he closed the door softly. He changed quickly, fingers fumbling with buttons, breath hitching when his shirt brushed his tender chest. He blinked tears away fast, angry at himself for feeling anything.

Mercury hopped onto the bed before he did, kneading the blanket urgently, waiting for him to lie down.

Jayce slid under the covers, curling on his side with his back to the door. Mercury tucked herself into the curve of his body, purring lowly. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, biting hard on the inside of his lip to suppress a sob.

Viktor would come to bed soon. He always did when Jayce wasn’t okay. He’d slip under the blankets, curl gently around him, hold him until his breathing softened. 

But Jayce didn’t deserve that.

He’s pregnant.
He’s pregnant and didn’t tell him.
He’s pregnant and lied.

He squeezed his eyes shut tighter, fighting the prickling heat of tears sliding down his temples.

He had to tell Viktor.

He needed to.

But the words felt huge, impossible—like opening his mouth would shatter his entire world.

Jayce curled closer into himself, shoulders shaking as he tried not to cry.

Chapter Text

He stood in front of the bedroom mirror, buttoning a shirt that suddenly felt uncomfortable. The fabric fit well enough, but he still found himself smoothing a hand over his stomach before quickly pulling it away. 

Behind him, Viktor sat at the edge of the bed fastening the straps of his brace. For a moment, Jayce found himself watching him through the mirror.

The sight made guilt twist painfully in his chest.

Viktor deserved honesty. He deserved to know that the person he had spent the last two years building a life with was carrying a child. Instead, Jayce had spent nearly a week dodging questions and forcing smiles whenever Viktor asked how he was feeling.

The worst part was that Viktor hadn't stopped trying.

He lingered a little longer during their morning embraces. He checked whether Jayce had eaten lunch. He brought home tea he thought might help settle his stomach and quietly replaced empty water glasses without being asked. None of it was overbearing. Viktor was too respectful for that. He simply cared, and every small act of affection felt like another reminder of the truth Jayce kept withholding.

"You look tired."

Viktor's voice pulled him from his thoughts.

Jayce glanced away from the mirror and forced a smile. "That's because I am."

The answer earned a frown. "Perhaps you should cancel your plans today."

"I'm not dying, Viktor."

"I did not say you were."

The dry response might have made Jayce laugh under different circumstances. Instead, he felt another stab of guilt and looked down at the buttons he had already finished fastening.

"I'm fine," he said, softer this time.

The silence that followed told him Viktor didn't believe that any more than he had the previous dozen times.

Eventually they left the bedroom together and moved through the familiar routine of the morning. Viktor made coffee while Jayce picked at a piece of toast he wasn't particularly interested in eating. Rio remained close to Viktor's side, occasionally wandering over to nudge Jayce's leg as if checking on him, while Mercury followed him from room to room.

By the time Jayce gathered his keys and jacket, the uneasy feeling in his stomach had settled into a knot. He was supposed to be meeting friends for the afternoon, something he would normally look forward to, but the prospect of spending several hours pretending everything was normal felt exhausting.

Viktor followed him to the front door. "Text me when you get there."

The request was simple and familiar. They said it to each other all the time. Still, something about it nearly broke Jayce. He nodded quickly and reached for his jacket before Viktor could notice the sudden sting in his eyes.

"I will."

Viktor studied him for a moment. The concern that had been lingering there all week remained plainly visible, though he didn't push. Instead, he stepped forward and adjusted the collar of Jayce's jacket, a small absent-minded gesture.

"You know," Viktor said quietly, "whatever is bothering you, you do not have to deal with it alone."

Jayce's throat tightened.

For one reckless second, he almost told him. The words rose all the way to the back of his tongue. Then fear won.

"I know," he managed.

It wasn't entirely a lie.

That was part of the problem.

Because he knew Viktor would stay. He knew Viktor would listen. He knew Viktor loved him.

And somehow that made the possibility of disappointing him even more terrifying.

Before he could lose his nerve completely, Jayce leaned forward, pressed a brief kiss to Viktor's lips, and stepped back toward the door.

"I'll see you later."

Viktor nodded.

"Have fun."

Jayce offered one last smile that felt far less convincing than he intended, then slipped out into the hallway. As the apartment door closed behind him, he found himself staring at the floor for several long seconds before finally heading toward the elevator.

By the time Jayce arrived at Caitlyn's house, he already felt drained. The exhaustion had settled somewhere deep in his bones over the past week. Every conversation with Viktor felt like walking across thin ice, every kind gesture from him making the guilt worse, because Viktor had done absolutely nothing to deserve being shut out like this.

The familiar warmth of the Kiramman home did little to ease the knot in his stomach. The house was bright and welcoming, sunlight pouring through the large windows and illuminating the living room where Caitlyn and Vi had already settled themselves for the afternoon. Vi was sprawled across one end of the couch, while Caitlyn sat beside her with a book resting forgotten in her lap. They both looked up when he entered, and Jayce immediately regretted coming.

Not because he didn't want to see them, but because both of them knew him far too well.

Vi had been one of his closest friends since college. Before Viktor had moved in with him, before Hextech had consumed their lives, Jayce and Vi had shared. She knew exactly how he acted when something was bothering him, and Caitlyn had developed an alarming ability to read people.

Together, they were a nightmare.

For the first half hour, Jayce managed well enough. He laughed in the right places, listened to Vi complain about one of her professors, and even contributed to a conversation about a recent Academy publication. But the effort of pretending was exhausting, and every time the discussion lulled, his mind immediately drifted back to Viktor.

The thought followed him relentlessly. It sat in the back of every conversation and lingered behind every smile until eventually he found himself staring blankly at the coffee table, no longer hearing whatever story Vi had been telling.

A cushion hit him in the shoulder.

Jayce blinked. "What was that for?"

"That's exactly what we're asking," Vi replied, narrowing her eyes. "You've been somewhere else all afternoon."

He looked away. "Have not."

"You have."

Caitlyn studied him over the rim of her teacup, her expression growing more concerned with every passing second. "You've barely touched your drink, you've answered half our questions with one-word responses, and you just spent three minutes staring at a decorative bowl."

"It was an interesting bowl."

Neither of them looked convinced.

Jayce could feel both of them watching him, waiting for him to either explain himself or come up with a better lie.

Unfortunately, he didn't have one.

"Did something happen with Viktor?" Caitlyn asked gently.

The question made his chest tighten.

"No."

The answer came too quickly.

Vi immediately pointed at him. "See? That's the voice."

"What voice?"

"The voice you use when you're lying."

"I'm not lying."

"Jayce."

This time it was Caitlyn speaking, and there was something so soft in her tone that it nearly unraveled him on the spot.

"We're worried about you."

The concern in her voice was genuine. Neither of them were teasing him anymore. They weren't trying to pry for entertainment or gossip. They were worried.

And suddenly, after spending nearly a week carrying this secret by himself, the effort of holding it together felt impossible.

His eyes burned. He looked down quickly, hoping neither of them would notice, but the movement only seemed to make them more concerned.

"Jayce?" Caitlyn asked.

He swallowed hard. "I'm fine."

The words emerged weaker than he intended.

The moment he heard them, he knew neither of them believed him and something in his chest cracked.

Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was the constant fear. Maybe it was the fact that he'd spent the last five days feeling increasingly isolated from the person he loved most. Whatever the reason, the pressure finally became too much.

A shaky breath escaped him.

Then another.

Before he could stop himself, tears began sliding down his face.

"I don't know what I'm doing," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I don't know."

"I'm pregnant."

For a moment, neither Caitlyn nor Vi spoke.

Vi was the first to recover, though her eyes remained wide. "Okay. Wow. That's... definitely not where I thought this conversation was going."

Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped Jayce.

Caitlyn reached over and took one of his hands. "Does Viktor know?"

The question immediately wiped away any trace of relief he'd felt.

"No."

The concern in both their expressions deepened.

"Jayce," Caitlyn said carefully, "how long have you known?"

"Five days."

Vi groaned and dragged both hands down her face. "Five days? You've been carrying this around for five days by yourself?"

"I kept trying to tell him."

The words came out desperate, he needed them to understand that he hadn't been hiding it out of malice.

"I'd wake up and think I'd tell him over breakfast, then I'd panic. Or we'd be sitting together and I'd almost say it, and then I'd start thinking about everything that could go wrong. We never talked about having kids. We never planned this. What if he doesn't want this? What if he's angry? What if he looks at me differently afterward?"

As soon as the questions left his mouth, he knew how irrational they sounded. But fear rarely listened to reason.

"He loves you," Vi said immediately.

Jayce laughed bitterly and looked away. "Yeah."

"No," Vi continued firmly. "I mean it. I've known Viktor my entire life, and I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you. If you think he's going to stop loving you because you're pregnant, you're being ridiculous."

Normally Jayce would've argued. Today, however, he couldn't find the energy. Because part of him knew she was right. The problem wasn't that he truly believed Viktor would stop loving him. The problem was that he loved Viktor enough to be terrified of changing the life they'd built together.

Now that the words had been spoken aloud, now that someone else knew, the reality of the situation felt even larger than it had before. 

Caitlyn shifted closer and rested a hand against his arm.

"Jayce," she said softly, "you need to stop punishing yourself."

He let out a shaky laugh and scrubbed a hand across his face. "That's easier said than done."

"Maybe," she replied, "but you've spent the last several minutes talking about yourself as though you've done something unforgivable, and I don't think that's fair."

"It doesn't feel that way."

The words escaped before he could stop them. "Every time Viktor asks if I'm okay, I lie. Every time he tries to help me, I lie. He keeps worrying about me and checking on me and bringing me tea because he knows something's wrong, and I just keep looking him in the eye and pretending everything's fine."

As he spoke, the guilt returned in full force. He thought about Viktor sitting beside him on the couch every evening, staying close without pushing too hard. He thought about the way Viktor had come home early from work because Sky had called him, and the way concern had appeared on his face the moment he'd seen Jayce. Most of all, he thought about the fact that Viktor had spent nearly a week trying to take care of him while having absolutely no idea why Jayce had been acting so strangely.

"I don't even feel like I deserve him right now."

Both Caitlyn and Vi immediately frowned.

"Jayce," Vi said, sounding genuinely baffled, "what are you talking about?"

He looked away. "I'm serious."

"No, I know you're serious. That's the problem."

Vi leaned forward, resting her forearms on her knees as she studied him. "You made a mistake," she continued. "A stupid one, sure, because you should've told him sooner, but you're acting like you've betrayed him in some horrible, unforgivable way when all you've actually done is panic."

"It doesn't feel like just panicking."

"That's because you're in the middle of it."

Jayce wanted to argue, but he couldn't find the energy.

Instead, he sat there in silence while Caitlyn gently rubbed her thumb against his arm.

After a few moments she asked, "can I ask you something?"

He nodded.

"Do you want to keep the baby?"

The question hit him harder than anything else had.

For the past five days he had been so consumed by the immediate crisis of being pregnant that he hadn't allowed himself to think too deeply about what came afterward. Every thought eventually crashed into panic before he could follow it very far, but now there was no avoiding the question.

Did he want this?

His first answer came immediately.

"No."

The word slipped out before he could stop it, fueled by fear and exhaustion and the overwhelming sense that his entire life had suddenly spun out of control.

The moment it left his mouth, however, something inside him recoiled.

His expression crumpled.

"No," he repeated more quietly before shaking his head. "Yes? I don't know."

The confession left him feeling raw.

"I don't know."

His eyes drifted toward the window as he tried to untangle feelings that seemed hopelessly knotted together.

"Part of me keeps thinking about everything that would change. We've spent years working toward our careers. Hextech is finally becoming something real. Viktor and I barely have time for ourselves some weeks, and suddenly there's this possibility that everything could be different.” He swallowed hard. "It all feels uncertain now."

Neither Caitlyn nor Vi interrupted.

The lack of interruption made it easier to continue.

"Sometimes I wake up feeling sick and exhausted and terrified, and all I can think about is how badly I don't want this. I don't want the nausea. I don't want the fear. I don't want to be responsible for another human being when I can barely handle my own life right now."

His voice began to shake again.

"But then I think about it for too long."

The admission came quietly.

"So I start imagining things."

Caitlyn's expression grew gentler. "What kind of things?"

Jayce laughed weakly through the tears threatening to return. His hand unconsciously drifted toward his stomach before he realized what he was doing.

"I start wondering what the baby would look like. I wonder if it'd have Viktor's eyes or his hair. I wonder what kind of father he'd be. Probably spoil it completely."

A tear slipped down his cheek. "And then I start thinking about not having it, and suddenly that hurts too."

"I feel like every answer makes me miserable," Jayce admitted. "If I imagine keeping it, I'm terrified. If I imagine not keeping it, I feel guilty. Every time I think I've figured out what I want, I change my mind five minutes later."

Caitlyn reached over and took his hand. "That sounds completely normal."

Jayce looked at her. "It does?"

"Of course it does. You've had less than a week to process something that changes the entire direction of your life. Why would anyone expect you to have all the answers already?"

For the first time since the conversation began, some of the tension in his shoulders eased.

Vi nodded in agreement and leaned back against the couch. "I think you're expecting yourself to make decisions that nobody could make this quickly."

"Maybe."

"No," she said firmly. "Definitely."

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"For what it's worth, I think my brother is going to be far more upset about you suffering through all of this by yourself than he is about the actual pregnancy."

The statement drew an involuntary laugh from Jayce. Unfortunately, it also made his chest ache. Because deep down, he knew she was right.

Caitlyn squeezed his hand once more. "You don't need to decide everything today, Jayce. You don't need to figure out what the rest of your life looks like before dinner, and you certainly don't need to have every answer before you talk to Viktor."

Jayce closed his eyes and let out a long, trembling breath. She was right.

There was only one thing he needed to do first.

And no matter how frightened he was, no matter how badly he wanted another day to think, another day to prepare, another day to pretend things hadn't changed, he knew he couldn't keep avoiding it.

Sooner or later, he was going to have to go home, sit down with the man he loved, and finally tell him the truth.

The drive home felt far shorter than Jayce wanted it to.

His conversation with Caitlyn and Vi had helped in some ways. The pressure in his chest wasn't quite as unbearable now that someone else knew, and for the first time in days he didn't feel completely alone with the secret. Unfortunately, the relief came with a new problem. Before, he had been able to tell himself he just needed more time to think. Now there was no hiding behind that excuse.

He needed to tell Viktor.

By the time he pulled into the apartment parking lot, his stomach was twisted into knots. He sat in the driver's seat for a few moments after turning off the engine, staring through the windshield while the evening sun painted the buildings in warm shades of gold and orange. Normally he would have appreciated the view. Normally he would have taken a moment to admire the sky before heading upstairs.

Today all he could think about was the conversation waiting for him.

Or rather, the conversation he kept failing to When he finally stepped through the apartment door, he was greeted by the familiar sounds of home. Rio immediately hurried over, her tail swishing excitedly as she chirped a greeting, while Mercury wound herself around his ankles. Their enthusiasm normally made him smile.

Today it just made the guilt worse.

The apartment smelled of food. Something Viktor had probably made while waiting for him to come home.

Jayce hadn't even taken off his shoes before he spotted him sitting on the couch with a book resting open in his lap.

The moment Viktor looked up, his expression softened.

"There you are."

Such simple words. Such a simple smile. Jayce felt his resolve crumble almost immediately. He had planned to tell him as soon as he got home. He had spent the entire drive rehearsing it.

Viktor, I need to tell you something.

Viktor, please don't panic.

Viktor, I'm pregnant.

Instead, all he managed was a weak smile.

"Hey."

Viktor closed his book and set it aside.

"How was your afternoon?"

There it was. The perfect opportunity. Jayce opened his mouth. The words rose all the way to the back of his throat. Then fear wrapped itself around them.

"It was fine."

He hated himself a little more for it.

Viktor studied him for a moment, clearly noticing something. His eyes lingered on Jayce's face just a second longer than necessary before he nodded and let the subject drop.

Jayce almost wished he wouldn't. A small, irrational part of him wanted Viktor to drag the truth out of him because clearly he was incapable of saying it himself.

Instead, Viktor did what he always did.

He respected his boundaries.

The two of them settled into their usual evening routine. They ate dinner together, talked about work, and discussed a problem Viktor had encountered while helping Silco earlier in the week. 

Jayce felt like he was losing his mind. Every time Viktor smiled at him, the guilt returned. Every time Viktor reached for his hand, the words nearly came out. Every time the conversation paused, he thought now. Tell him now. And every single time, he failed. By the end of dinner, he could barely focus on what Viktor was saying. His thoughts kept circling the same question.

Why was this so hard? This was Viktor. The person he trusted more than anyone. The person he loved. The person who had stood beside him through every major moment of his adult life. And yet somehow telling him felt impossible.

Eventually, unable to endure another minute of his own thoughts, Jayce pushed back from the table.

"I think I'm going to shower."

"Are you feeling alright?"

Another opportunity. Jayce's heart pounded.

He could tell him right now.

Instead he nodded.

"Just tired."

The lie tasted bitter.

Viktor accepted it anyway. "Alright."

The disappointment that followed was entirely his own fault.

A few minutes later, Jayce stepped into the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He turned on the shower and immediately cranked the temperature higher than he normally would.

Steam began filling the room almost instantly. By the time he stepped beneath the spray, the mirror was already fogging over. The water was hot. He welcomed it. For several moments he simply stood there beneath the stream, letting it pound against his shoulders and run down his back while the steam wrapped around him like a blanket.

Jayce closed his eyes and his hand drifted downward, resting on his stomach.

His breath caught.

Five days.

A painful sound escaped him.

Then another.

Before he realized it, tears were mixing with the water running down his face.

"God." His voice broke.

The steam swallowed the word.

Jayce pressed his palm more firmly against his stomach and bowed his head.

Why couldn't he do it? Why couldn't he just tell him? The question had haunted him all week.

Every logical part of his mind knew Viktor wasn't going to leave. Viktor wasn't going to stop loving him. Viktor wasn't going to react with cruelty or anger. If anything, Viktor would probably be upset that Jayce had spent nearly a week suffering by himself, like what he was told.

So why was he still so afraid?

Maybe because if he told him then that would make this real.

As long as the secret stayed trapped inside his own head, there was still room for denial. There was still room to pretend nothing had changed, to convince himself he had more time, to avoid making decisions he wasn't ready to make.

The moment Viktor knew, that illusion would disappear.

The pregnancy would stop being something he was merely thinking about and become something they would have to face together.

The realization sent another wave of tears down his face. He loved Viktor so much. He wished that the next conversation they have would somehow magically contain all the answers.

Whether he wanted the baby. Whether Viktor wanted the baby. Whether they could do this. Whether they were ready.

But life didn't work that way.

The answers weren't going to appear before the conversation happened.

The conversation had to happen first.

Still, knowing that didn't make it any easier.

So Jayce remained beneath the scorching water, his hand pressed protectively against his stomach while tears slipped down his face, and wondered how something as simple as three words could feel so impossibly difficult to say.

I'm pregnant, Viktor.

The lab was alive with the familiar hum of machinery, the soft glow of arcane energy reflecting across polished metal surfaces and scattered tools. Morning sunlight poured through the enormous windows overlooking Piltover, catching on coils of copper wiring and half-finished prototypes that occupied nearly every available workspace. 

Jayce stood near the primary Hexgate model, reviewing a series of calculations while Viktor adjusted a component inside the stabilization housing. Nearby, Sky sat at a terminal compiling data from their latest tests, occasionally glancing up to compare numbers against handwritten notes.

The lab doors opened, and Mel stepped inside.

"Jayce." He looked up. "Please tell me you're here with good news."

Mel smiled. "I suppose that depends on how much you enjoy speaking in front of the Council."

Jayce groaned. "Never mind."

Sky laughed.

Viktor didn't even look up from his work. "You should consider yourself fortunate," he teased dryly. "Most people would be thrilled to have the opportunity."

"Most people aren't required to explain every tiny setback to Councilor Salo."

That earned a faint smile from Viktor.

Mel crossed her arms. "Fortunately for you, today's meeting is focused on progress updates. The Council wants to hear how development is proceeding and discuss potential expansion plans if the next testing phase proves successful."

Jayce sighed dramatically. "Wonderful." The sarcasm earned him an unimpressed look.

"You're presenting."

His shoulders immediately slumped. "Usually."

"You are significantly better at public speaking than Viktor."

"That's because Viktor terrifies people."

"I do not."

Sky looked up from her workstation. "You do."

Jayce gathered the necessary reports and before long the two of them were making their way toward the Council chambers.

The walk through Piltover's Academy district normally helped him organize his thoughts before a presentation. Today, however, he found himself distracted by an uneasy feeling settling in his stomach.

Mel noticed immediately. She always did. "You look pale."

Jayce forced a smile. "I'm fine."

The words had become automatic lately.

Mel raised an eyebrow but didn't push further.

By the time they reached the Council chamber, the nausea had faded enough that he managed to convince himself everything would be alright.

Councilors sat around the circular table, sunlight pouring through the massive windows behind them and illuminating the polished stone floor. At the head of the room sat Heimerdinger. 

Mel took her place among the Councilors, beside Silco.

As the meeting began, Jayce launched into his presentation. At first, everything proceeded smoothly. He explained recent Hexgate developments, summarized the latest transportation tests, and reviewed projected efficiency increases. The Council listened attentively while he detailed the improvements Viktor and Sky had helped implement over the previous several months.

Questions followed. Jayce answered them. More questions followed. He answered those too.

Unfortunately, somewhere in the middle of discussing long-distance transportation projections, his stomach gave a violent twist.

For a brief moment he simply stopped talking.

Several Councilors exchanged confused glances.

Jayce swallowed hard.

The room suddenly felt much warmer than it had a few moments earlier.

He continued speaking. Or at least he tried to.

Every word became increasingly difficult to force out as the nausea intensified. His stomach churned unpleasantly, and he found himself gripping the edge of the presentation table harder than necessary.

The scent of someone's tea reached him from across the chamber.

His stomach lurched again.

The room tilted slightly.

"Councilor Talis?"

Heimerdinger's voice cut through the growing haze.

Jayce blinked.

Several faces were staring at him now.

"Are you alright?" Cassandra asked.

"I'm fine," Jayce replied automatically.

Mel frowned.

Jayce immediately regretted speaking.

Another wave of nausea rolled through him, stronger this time, his vision blurred around the edges.

Every instinct screamed at him to finish the presentation. Instead he found himself struggling not to throw up in front of the entire Council.

"Jayce."

Mel's voice carried a warning now.

Silco narrowed his eyes. "You look ill."

Jayce hated that they were all staring at him.

He hated that his body had chosen this exact moment to betray him. Most of all, he hated how familiar this feeling had become. For several painful seconds he attempted to regain control of himself. Then another surge of nausea hit.

Heimerdinger immediately rose from his chair. "I believe we can conclude the meeting here."

Several Councilors began objecting at once, but the professor waved them off.

"The remaining reports can be submitted in writing."

"Professor—" Jayce began.

"Jayce."

The gentle firmness in Heimerdinger's voice immediately silenced him.

"You are clearly unwell."

Around the chamber, the other Councilors were already gathering their notes.

Mel approached him. Her gaze lingered on him for several moments. "You need to go home."

Jayce closed his eyes briefly.

A week ago he would have argued. Now he didn’t have the energy.

She was right, and he knows it. 

The council meeting had drained him, and the effort of pretending everything was normal while his stomach churned and his thoughts spiraled had left him exhausted in a way that sleep never seemed capable of fixing. He barely had enough energy to hang his coat by the door.

He had to return to the lab, and tell Viktor what happened, which meant they both went home together.

Silently, Jayce headed to their bedroom, he knew Viktor was following him but he didn't have the energy to stop him.

By the time Jayce settled onto the bed, Viktor was moving around the room. He adjusted the blankets, opened the window slightly to let in cooler air, and returned with a glass of water despite the fact that Jayce hadn't asked for one. None of the gestures were unusual. Viktor had always cared for the people he loved with a devotion that revealed itself through actions rather than words, but lately every act of kindness seemed to cut a little deeper. Jayce knew he didn't deserve it.

As Viktor sat beside him, Jayce found himself watching him instead of speaking. He watched the way Viktor looked back at him, the way loose strands of hair had escaped during the day and fallen across his forehead, and the way concern lingered in his eyes even when he attempted to hide it. There was so much tenderness there that it made Jayce's throat ache.

"You have been worrying me," Viktor said eventually, his voice gentle enough that it only made things worse. "I know something is wrong, and I know you keep insisting otherwise, but I have watched you become increasingly miserable for weeks. You hardly eat some days, you disappear into your own thoughts during conversations, and this morning you looked as though you were about to faint."

Jayce stared down at his hands while guilt twisted painfully in his stomach. He had spent days convincing himself that he was protecting Viktor by waiting until he knew what he wanted, but sitting here now, listening to the hurt beneath Viktor's concern, he wasn't sure he believed that anymore.

"I didn't mean to worry you."

"I know."

Viktor reached over to take his hand before continuing. "That does not mean I am not worried."

The simple honesty behind those words finally shattered whatever composure Jayce still possessed. He felt tears sting his eyes before he could stop them, and when he tried to look away, Viktor's expression immediately shifted from concern to alarm.

"Jayce?"

He shook his head, intending to reassure him, but the gesture only made the first tear slip free. The pressure he had been carrying for days suddenly felt unbearable. Every lie, every excuse, every failed attempt to tell the truth came crashing down at once until he could barely breathe around the lump in his throat.

Viktor moved closer immediately. "Hey," he said softly, reaching for him. "Talk to me."

Instead of answering, Jayce broke.

The tears came faster than he could control, and within seconds he was crying hard enough that speaking became impossible. Viktor wrapped both arms around him, pulling him against his chest while one hand moved through his hair in slow, soothing motions. Jayce buried his face against his shoulder and clung to him, feeling simultaneously relieved and ashamed.

The worst part was that Viktor was still comforting him.

After everything.

Viktor was still holding him as though nothing in the world mattered more.

"You do not have to do this alone," Viktor murmured. "Whatever it is, we will figure it out together."

For several long moments he simply cried while Viktor held him, and when he finally managed to speak, his voice was so strained that he barely recognized it. "I've been trying to tell you."

Viktor pulled back slightly so he could see his face. "Tell me. Please"

Jayce stared at him. The concern in Viktor's eyes hadn't changed. Neither had the affection. He looked exactly the same as he had every morning when he kissed Jayce's forehead before work, every evening when he waited for him to come home, and every night when he wrapped his arms around him before they fell asleep.

The realization made the truth impossible to hold back any longer.

"I was scared," Jayce admitted. "I kept thinking about how everything might change, and every time I tried to tell you, I convinced myself I needed more time. Then another day passed, and another, and eventually I didn't know how to say it anymore."

Viktor squeezed his hand gently. "Say what?"

Jayce closed his eyes.

"I'm pregnant."