Chapter Text
When the Talis family started packing up to move to a small town in Oklahoma, it was proposed to their 8-year-old child, Jayce, as a new beginning. The term “new beginning” was said like a prayer, as if the words themselves would will the meaning to be true. Jayce could tell that his mama was trying just as hard to convince herself of that as she was him. The words still sting in his ears as he sits in the back seat of his dad’s truck.
The road is smooth for a long time. Four and a half hours, his dad had said before they left. He’d said that he could get some sleep before they got to their new house, their new life. But how could Jayce do that? He feels like he should be happy that they’re moving, that they have moved, but he only feels a familiar pit in his stomach that Mama told him was anxiety.
Jayce doesn’t miss much about their old town. The school was packed and full of kids that would make fun of his wizard figures. His mama would always complain about other adults that sounded mean, and how could someone be mean to his mama? His papa was always working and seemed really sad. When his papa was sad, Jayce was sad. So why did he feel so bad right now?
Maybe it was the familiar smell of their old house. Mama had so many nice plants in the house. Papa’s home office smelled like campfire and leather, like the forge. Maybe it was that soda shop down the street from his old school. The one where they’d let him have two scoops of ice cream in his root beer float instead of just one. He had to wait until they nearly closed so that he could avoid the other kids.
Or maybe he just didn’t want to come here, to wherever they are now. He doesn’t even remember the name of this town, just that it's a lot smaller than the other ones. Papa wasn’t that excited, either. He remembers that, for sure. Now that he’s thinking about it, neither was Mama.
“Jayce?”
The boy looks away from the window to his mama, who has turned around in her seat up front to look at him with a gentle crease in her brow. She smiles as he looks up at her, but he can tell that she’s feeling the same way he does.
“It’ll be okay, mi vida. This is a good thing.”
Jayce’s worried eyes drift to his father, who is looking back at him through the rearview mirror. The boy sees affection pouring out of his papa’s eyes before he looks back to the road. The worry in Jayce’s small form eases out of him. He offers a reassuring smile to his mama.
“I know, Mama.”
___---1---___
The property they moved to is much nicer than Jayce originally expected. The neighborhood seems nice and clean. The houses are farther apart than the ones he used to live by, so the yard is a lot bigger. Mama always wanted a big garden. His room is actually much bigger than his old room back in Texas. His father said that with the new business, he was able to save up enough to move to where the business could be.
When he first heard that, Jayce assumed he had gotten a better forge. Oh, how he loved the forge. He could stay there all day if he could. Imagine Jayce’s surprise when the new business was actually in oil. Papa had tried to explain it to Jayce multiple times, but Jayce still refused to understand. Why would his dad need a business in… oil? Maybe that’s why he feels so bad right now.
He’s finished unpacking his clothes and his bedding at this point. The room is a little tighter with his bed in the corner, but it feels like his space now. From his window, he can look out onto the street and at the field way past the rest of the houses. Past the big expanse of dry grass, there’s what looks like a big forest, with thick trees and dark shadows. It makes him lonely.
Driving into town, there were acres upon acres of flat, empty land. There were some farmhouses, some livestock, and a two-story house with a greenhouse attached to it. That house seemed a little scary at first, but the window at the top of the house, where the attic might be, was lit up with a warm lamp glow. It made the house seem more alive.
He pushes the memory of that lone house to the side as he walks out his front door. It’s much later in the day now—dinner has long passed, and his parents went to bed nearly an hour ago. The street is much quieter now. The only noise is the sound of cicadas in the warm summer air. With only a few snacks in his pocket and his nicest pair of sneakers, Jayce starts walking.
He walks for a long time before he reaches the edge of the woods. He doesn’t really know why he wanted to come here. Curious, yes, but he knew this was dangerous. It wasn’t that dark out yet, but his mama would warn him every time he stepped foot outside without her. Animals, strange people, getting lost, an unexpected cliff—she told him about it all. But still, he needed to see what the world could offer him. Something new, perhaps. Something to take his mind away from the loneliness he feels when he has to sit in those crowded classrooms, where all the kids talk around him. And never to him.
The woods are easier to traverse than he expected them to be. The land is still fairly even, and the trees are far enough apart that he doesn’t have to duck past branches. People have probably made it easier to walk through, but Jayce likes to imagine that a magical breeze comes through and sweeps the branches away, just so people can come look at the beautiful trees.
It’s too dark to see the beautiful trees, though. He knows he should turn back soon. His feet are tired, and he hasn’t found anything so far. Back in Texas, he might’ve been able to find an old car, an unused trail like the one Jayce is standing on, an abandoned homeless tent-...
Oh! Jayce kicks his feet to find gravel. Looking behind him, he sees the streetlamps by his neighborhood have kicked on, faintly illuminating the distant street. That must mean it's pretty late…
Oh, what the heck. He’ll be back before sunrise.
With newfound vigor, Jayce adjusts his eyes to the darkness ahead of him and follows the path to wherever it goes.
It couldn’t have been longer than 10 minutes of walking for Jayce to find an abandoned two-story house. In the dark, it’s hard to tell what the house looks like, but he can tell it’s ancient. All the windows are boarded up or broken, and a fence post is in pieces next to where it should be. Walking up the steps, Jayce’s weight causes the stairs to strain and squeal. The front door is slightly ajar, so he just pushes it the rest of the way open to reveal the inside.
Of course, it is pitch black inside the house. Jayce swallows his fear before going in. The floor squeaks incessantly under his feet. The entranceway leads to a small living room and an attached kitchen. At the far end of the room, there’s a table turned on its side. A couch has been pushed against the wall with a tarp covering it. Right next to it is a dusty brick fireplace, old ash still caking the back.
The walls are covered in peeling wallpaper that Jayce can’t make out in the dark, but he guesses it’s a boring color like beige or gray. Stepping further into the house, he finds a large rug. It’s stiff and covered in dust, a cloud of it puffing out as Jayce steps on it. Jayce waves a hand in front of his nose as the dust reaches his face.
He reaches the overturned dining room table and finds another open doorway to the right. He looks in to see a stairway leading to the upper floor. These stairs complain a lot more than the other ones. Jayce swears that he hears things coming from above him other than the noisy stairs. Going up the stairs, he finds nothing but an empty hall and more doors. The one farthest away from him is open, and it looks to be a bathroom. The closest one to him is easy to open, but the room is completely empty. That only leaves the middle door.
Jayce pushes the door like he did the others but finds it harder to open. He pushes a little harder and discovers a heavy weight pushing back against the door. Using his full body, he presses against the door. Whatever is on the other side presses back. One more time, gathering as much strength as he can, Jayce shoves the door. This time, it opens easily and swings to the wall with a loud bang.
Jayce hears the sound of a small body scuffling farther into the room.
Fear shoots through his body at the sound. He takes two steps backward, the only thing he can hear now being the sound of his own quick breathing. He presses a hand to his chest and controls it the way his mama told him. In and out, Jayce. Slowly. What else had his mama told him?
“If something runs from you, it is scared of you. Even if you are, too.”
Whatever was blocking the door is scared of Jayce. Alright, he can work with that.
Jayce, with delicate steps, peeks his head back into the room. In the cover of darkness with only the light of the stars out the window, the only thing he can make out is the shape of an old mattress. Whatever’s in here is hiding in the corner, where the light from the window can’t reach.
Swallowing his nerves, Jayce steps into the room and almost immediately trips on something on the floor. He catches himself before he falls and looks down at the offending object. A stick? He reaches down to pick it up. Not a stick—way too straight. A… cane?
Old people use those all the time, right? It’s nothing like the ones old people use, though. It’s too small.
“Don’t… Please…”
The soft voice can barely be heard over Jayce’s thoughts. He can distinctly tell that the voice is accented, but he doesn’t recognize the accent. It’s also… a very young voice.
“Hello?” Jayce says cautiously, “Is this yours?”
He receives no reply but hears soft sniffles instead.
“I-I won’t hurt you!” He assures.
Still no reply.
“... My name is Jayce. I’m 8. How old are you?”
“... Also 8.”
The reply brings out a giddy feeling in Jayce, but he holds it in for now.
“That’s cool! I turned 8 last month. When did you turn 8?”
“I am 9 in December.”
“Oh, okay. You’re older than me, then.”
There’s no reply, but Jayce can see a shift in the corner, like the other child has relaxed a little. Their hunched position shifts to a regular sitting position, but they look like they’re favoring their right leg.
“Do you want this back?”
There’s a short pause.
“... Yes, please.”
Jayce steps forward slower than he wants to, still trying to make sure the other child isn’t scared of him. Within a few feet of the other kid, Jayce can very lightly make out some of the details of what he looks like. They’re thin and look like they’re wearing shoes two sizes too big. He holds out the cane for the other child to take.
A small, pale hand reaches out into the soft starlight and gently grabs the cane. The hand is a little dirty from being on the floor. Jayce takes a step back after handing the other child back his cane. The child doesn’t make to stand up.
“Do you need that to walk good?” Jayce asks.
“Yes” is the simple reply he gets.
“Is your leg broken?”
“Kind of.”
“Oh. Did you fall out of a tree? I did that once and broke my wrist.” Jayce raises his left hand and rolls his wrist.
There’s a soft laugh from the corner. Jayce smiles at the sound.
“No, it is… just bad.”
“A bad leg?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know that happened.”
“It does. It happens a lot.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
Jayce sits on the floor right where he stands, not caring how dirty his shorts are going to be.
“Do you live here?”
“No! It’s so dirty.”
“Then why are you in here?”
“Why are you?”
Jayce pauses for a minute to think about that.
“Um… ‘Cause I like to explore.”
“I do, too.”
“You do?” Jayce asks excitedly, leaning in a little. From this position, he can tell that the other kid has short, fluffy hair. He’s guessing that they are a boy, then, but he’s met girls with short hair, too.
“Yes, I do. I cannot go far, though.”
“Why not?”
“Bad leg.”
“Oh, right.”
The two boys laugh at the same time, the giddiness from before showing itself in Jayce’s bright voice.
“Do you play games here?”
“Sometimes. I bring books, too.”
“What books?” Jayce takes out one of his candy bars that he brought with him. Then, he takes the other one and offers it to the other boy. A pale hand hesitantly takes it.
“Um… I only have Lord of the Rings books,” he says softly as he inspects the candy in his hands.
“You like Lord of the Rings?!” Jayce asks with a grin, chocolate still in his mouth.
The other boy laughs at the gross display, “Yes, I do!”
“Do you like Gandalf? I think he’s the coolest wizard.”
“I do, too.” The boy finally takes a bite of his candy bar, humming in delight at the taste. “What is this?”
“It’s a Milky Way. Never had one?”
“No! It’s good. Do you have more?”
“I only have a Twix left. ‘Want to share it?” Jayce opens his Twix and takes out the left bar. He offers the candy to the other boy, who takes it eagerly. Jayce eats his as the boy looks over the chocolate candy bar.
A soft crunch is heard before another satisfied hum. Jayce sits in silence, watching the shape of the other boy finish the last bites of his candy. He’s glad he has his bigger jacket on, since the pockets are big enough to fit an entire arsenal of candy. Plus, the water bottle, but that’s less important.
“I’ve never seen you before,” the other boy states, “Are you new here?”
“Yeah, I just moved here.”
“So, you are staying here?” He asks with a poorly masked giddiness of his own.
“Yeah! I live in the neighborhood right over that way!” Jayce points out in the general direction of his house, and the other boy follows the finger. “Wait, that window is pointing that way. I wonder if you can see it from here.”
Jayce stands and rushes to the window. From the window, he can faintly see the streetlamps that he saw before.
“Yeah! Kind of… It’s too dark to see my house, though.”
A soft tap comes from the other boy’s direction. Jayce looks to see the other boy's silhouette standing. He’s a little taller than Jayce. He moves to the side to make room for the other kid, gesturing for him to come see out the window.
The boy steps into the soft starlight. With messy brown hair, fair skin, and two moles accenting his soft features, the other boy looks as unassuming as he would’ve expected. But the way his big, golden eyes nervously scan Jayce’s face before he steps closer makes him seem like the sweetest boy that he’s ever seen. Those eyes shift out the window and see the distant lights down below, past the trees.
“You live over where the light is?”
“Yeah, it’s past a big field, too.”
“I see,” the boy says softly as he looks out the window.
“Do you live over there?”
“No, I live that way.” A pale hand clad in a long, green sleeve points in the near opposite direction.
“Aw, man. Far?”
“Yes, very far.”
“That sucks…” Jayce mopes softly.
“Why?”
“Because I can’t see you all the time if you live far away,” Jayce pouts, being met with silence. He turns to see the other boy looking at him with surprise on his face, but with a twinge of hopefulness sparking in his eyes.
“You… want to see me more?”
“Yeah! Do you?”
“Y-yes!” The boy nods his head excitedly, a grin pulling on his thin cheeks.
“Cool!” Jayce responds with a matching grin, “Do you want to meet here again?”
“Yes! I come here every Saturday.”
“Can I come every Saturday?”
“Of course, you can, Jayce.”
“Awesome!” Jayce feels himself flutter inside at hearing the other boy—his new friend—say his name. “I’ll come every Saturday after dinner!”
“Okay,” the boy’s grin falters a little, then, “Do you… Do you have to go right now?”
“Um…” Jayce peeks outside at the moon high in the sky. Luckily, he taught himself how to tell time through the position of the moon. It’s essential if you have parents that don’t let you stay up past 7:00 every night, but you want to go see if the neighbors threw out any more comic books. If he were to guess, it couldn’t be later than 9:30. Even though that was way past his bedtime, he’s used to staying up later than that.
“No, I can stay!”
“Okay,” the boy’s excitement returns full force, even if it’s demure compared to Jayce’s. “Do you want to play wizards?”
Jayce jumps up and down, a wide smile on his face, “Yeah, yeah! Let’s play wizards!”
“I have a flashlight somewhere downstairs.”
“Oh! I can go get it really quick.”
Jayce turns and runs towards the door, then stops abruptly before he can leave the room. “Wait!” He exclaims, turning back to the other boy.
The other boy looks at him with a confused, almost fearful expression.
“I forgot to ask what your name is.”
The pale face relaxes under the moon’s soft glow. A hopeful smile replaces the fear that was there moments ago.
“It’s Viktor.”
The sounds of laughter fill the once deathly silent house, lighting up the gray walls with the dim beam of a flashlight. Jayce doesn’t remember how, but they stayed there in that house for hours. He only sneaks back into bed at 3 in the morning, an hour before his mama would wake up. That morning, Mama doesn’t see Jayce until well into the afternoon. She lets him sleep, assuming he’d stayed up tossing and turning. But when he came out of his new room with a smile on his face and a skip to his step, Ximena had to rethink that. She never questioned him, despite her suspicions.
___–1–___
It’s only a few weeks later that Jayce decides that Viktor is his best friend. Every Saturday, no matter the occasion, he finds Viktor waiting for him in their house, which he has dubbed their hideout. The second time he saw Viktor, the boy had brought candles and his books with him. Under soft candlelight, the boys took turns reenacting their favorite scenes from the first volume of Lord of the Rings. Jayce was shocked to discover that Viktor had only read the books. He seemed embarrassed about it, but Jayce reassured him with his own admission of only seeing the movies.
That night, Jayce and Viktor searched the surrounding woods for a branch suitable enough to act as a magical staff. The next time they met, they decorated it with cut-out construction paper stars and blue glitter glue.
It’s mid-August now. School starts in a week.
“Are you excited to go to school?” Jayce asks, a blue marker in hand, as he scribbles a cape onto his drawing of himself. The two are drawing what their wizard selves look like, lying on their stomachs in the upstairs bedroom where they first met. The moon is peeking down at them from the window.
“I do not go to school,” Viktor replies, pausing his own drawing.
“What?! I thought all kids have to go to school!” Jayce looks up at his friend with a jealous pout. His face makes Viktor giggle.
“I do a… different kind of school.” He reaches out and steals the blue marker right from Jayce’s hand.
“What kind of school?” Jayce allows Viktor this one act of thievery, taking the yellow marker out instead.
“It’s called homeschool.” Viktor squints as he meticulously traces blue diamond shapes onto the magical staff he drew. The lantern that Jayce took from his papa’s home office is much better than the candles.
“Homeschool? Like, you do school at home?” Jayce asks, coloring in the stars on his cape.
“Yes. My uncle teaches me.”
“Your uncle is a teacher?”
“No, he is a…” Viktor pauses once more. “I don’t know the word for it. Medicine man?”
“Is he a doctor?” Jayce looks up at Viktor, drawing forgotten for now.
“No, no, he makes medicine and sells it to people with a per-... pre-scrip-shun.” Viktor sounds out, looking away with shameful eyes.
“Oh, I know what that is. He’s the guy the doctors tell you to go to when you need a lot of medicine?”
Viktor visibly relaxes with a smile. “Yes, he is.”
“He must know a lot of stuff to be a medicine guy and a teacher.”
“I think the school gives him the material to teach me.”
“Oh, okay,” Jayce says, continuing to draw. “Why can’t you go to school?”
Viktor doesn’t answer for a while. Jayce looks back at him to see a conflicted look on his face. He looks sad but also angry. It’s an expression he hasn’t seen on Viktor before. Jayce stays quiet while he waits for Viktor to answer.
“School has… other kids in it,” Viktor says softly. “Other kids don’t… No one likes me.”
Viktor’s head dips a bit as he admits those words. Jayce doesn’t understand.
“Huh?” He responds, “Why not?”
Viktor gestures over to his cane, lying beside him on the floor.
“Your bad leg?” Jayce asks, confusion evident on his face.
“They laugh at me for it,” the paler boy confesses. “They call me names.”
“That’s mean…” Jayce responds sadly.
“It always happens that way. Even grown-ups.”
“But my mama says that grown-ups can’t do that.” Jayce’s lip wobbles.
“They don’t like that I need more help. They don’t like the way I talk. I am… not wanted here.”
“But that’s not fair!” A tear rolls down brown skin.
Viktor looks to his friend and sees a sniffling boy wiping at his eyes. He panics, lifting himself up to sit properly, and puts a frightened hand on Jayce’s back. He pats and rubs at his friend’s back, trying to console him with rapidly growing anxiety.
“Jayce, don’t cry!” Viktor pleads, “It’s okay, Jayce, it’s okay!”
“No, it’s not!” Jayce sits up as well, tears flowing freely from his eyes, “You don’t deserve that! That’s so mean!”
Jayce lunges forward and envelops the taller boy in his arms. He can feel ribs through his loose shirt. His tears are soaked up by the garment as lanky arms circle Jayce’s form. He feels wetness growing on his own shoulder.
“I won’t let that happen anymore. I promise,” Jayce whispers. They are still sitting, holding each other tightly, even after five or ten minutes. His knees hurt from pressing into the wood floor. Viktor’s must hurt a lot more.
“What?” Viktor’s voice is soft and still watery from the shared tears.
“I promise you,” Jayce leans back, holding Viktor by the arms and staring directly into his golden eyes with his own determined ones. “I won’t ever let you get hurt again.”
Viktor stares at him with wide, honey-tinted eyes. Jayce feels a spark of something bigger surging through their connected gaze. Those bright yellow eyes fill with tears again, and this time, Viktor is the one to embrace Jayce. He holds onto his best friend like his life depends on it, fingers gripping the red shirt he’s wearing with white knuckles. The wetness on his shoulder returns, accompanied by anguished sobs. This is the loudest he’s ever heard Viktor be.
That afternoon, Jayce cries into his mama’s dress, but even though she begs him to tell her what's wrong, he doesn’t say anything.
___–1–___
What could ever prepare you to lose the one man you need the most?
Snow on the ground wasn’t an unusual sight for Jayce. It wasn’t common by any means where he came from, and certainly not here. He didn’t think that roads could be so slick—no one had mentioned ice was so common, either. The guttural screaming of his mother as her body curls around a freezing dead man certainly wasn’t common.
No matter how much he rubs at his eyes, Jayce can’t rid himself of the sight. His father was usually a good driver. How could a man so needed leave right now?
Jayce is ten now. It’s only been two years since they moved. He started school not too long after he heard Viktor cry for the first time. It was smaller than his classes back in Texas, but it was just as dull. The kids were nicer, but only by so much. They still turned their noses up at his wizard-themed lunchbox.
That didn’t matter, though. Not when he had Viktor.
Every Saturday, like clockwork, Jayce would walk to their secret house to find Viktor coloring or reading or cradling his sore leg with shaking fingers. Jayce sits next to him when that happens and reads to him the same few chapters every time. Viktor’s favorite chapters.
And then, Jayce would tell Viktor about all the things he wished his friend could see at his school. The small library, the two kids that would always bicker about stupid things, the teacher who got attacked by a toad—all things that would make the pained smile turn to one of amusement. He’d tell Viktor about how his mama made the best dishes, and Viktor would ask what each one was. He had promised to let Viktor try his mama’s homemade horchata sometime.
But today, Jayce beats Viktor to the house. Armando Talis died four days ago. Jayce needs his friend.
It was difficult to break away from his mother. He was only allowed to go home today, having stayed with her in the hospital for the time since the accident. He only had minor injuries, but his mama had gotten frostbite in two of her fingers. Jayce was having a hard time understanding how he and his mama could get out of the car, but his father was crushed by it. He can’t even remember where they were going. He can only remember his mother’s screaming.
Jayce doesn’t even know how long he’s been waiting at this point. Two hours? Four? It doesn’t matter. The snow outside melted enough to be insulting, but it's still freezing outside. His cheeks and nose burn by now, his hand jittering uncontrollably.
For cold Saturday nights, he’d usually sneak out his father’s portable heater, but he can’t even bear to look at the door to his home office right now. He could hear his mama crying in there.
Jayce is sitting on the ground downstairs, behind the overturned dining room table. He and Viktor sometimes pretended it was a shield against evil monsters. They had left a rich blue blanket over the edge and two legs, making a sort of tent from the old furniture. He can faintly see through the fabric at the slowly dimming light from the open front door.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Jayce knew that sound from anywhere.
He doesn’t even bother to move as he listens to the other boy approaching. Maybe he’s frozen, just like his father was. But the sound of a soft, worried voice thaws him a little.
“... Jayce?”
The blanket on top of the table is lifted by a small, gloved hand. Wide, golden eyes peek under the cloth. They connect to Jayce’s empty ones.
“Jayce, what are you doing?”
He doesn’t respond. His eyes distantly scan over his friend’s face, watching as Viktor’s brows furrow in confusion.
“Are you okay? Why are you in there?”
Viktor looks over his silent friend and sees that his hands are shaking in the cold air. The pale boy rapidly pushes his way into the tent, having to crawl over Jayce to sit beside him properly. His cane is forgotten outside the tent.
Viktor grabs Jayce’s limp hands and brings them to his face. He cups them gently and breathes deeply onto them. His hot breath fans over the freezing digits, a crease in his brow that Jayce hasn’t seen since the day they met. Jayce’s jaw loosens enough to speak one sentence.
“My dad died a few days ago.”
The world outside the tent falls away. The heat fanning over his fingers stops. Jayce looks up to see Viktor looking at him. His honey-tinted eyes are big and pretty and deeply, deeply sad. He doesn’t respond to the statement for a while. He just stares into Jayce’s own devastated gaze. He’s still holding Jayce’s hands.
Jayce’s eyes burn again as he realizes what has happened. He’s cried endlessly for the past 4 days. He’s screamed and hit walls and broken things. He saw what happened with his own eyes. Why do those words hurt more than his healing cuts?
His throat constricts painfully.
Viktor releases his friend’s hands and wraps him in a tight embrace. His forest green coat is cold from the outside air, but the hug is as warm as his own mother’s. Jayce cries into the soft fabric, his wretched sobs shaking Viktor’s thin form. Everything hurts—his hands, his face, the cuts from broken glass still marring his legs. His eyes hurt, his feet hurt, his knuckles hurt from punching the same spot in his wall over and over again. He’s probably hurting Viktor. If he’s in pain, he doesn’t say anything.
They somehow end up curled around each other on the floor. Jayce has pulled Viktor as close as he can to his side. His still trembling arms are gripping the back of Viktor’s jacket so tight, he’s surprised he hasn’t broken any of his frail bones.
Viktor moves a little. Jayce’s grip tightens.
From Jayce’s spot buried into his friend’s chest, he can feel his heart beating rapidly. A hand clad in black gloves too big for his own comes up from its spot on Jayce’s back to the messy hair on his head. The hand shifts to his ear, where it cups around the appendage. His hearing isn’t altered much, but he can tell how cold he is now. When he left the house earlier, he wasn’t even worried about putting on a coat or gloves or a hat. He just wanted to be here.
“Jayce.”
He shakes his head, burying it deeper into Viktor’s chest.
“You are too cold.”
“No.” His voice sounds rough and strained. How long have they lain here?
“Please, Jayce.”
“You can’t go.” His words are coming out of him without his control. What is he even saying?
“I won’t, but you need to get warm.”
“You can’t leave me, too.”
The words come softer this time. He knows that what he’s asking for is out of his control. He knows that he can’t put that on Viktor. But his mind is broken, and there’s no room for logic now. He feels Viktor’s face nuzzle into Jayce’s dark brown hair.
“I’ll never leave you.”
Warmth blooms in his chest.
“You promise?”
“Promise.”
Only then does Jayce allow Viktor to move them. He takes Jayce out of the tent with a gentle hand gripping his own. It’s dark outside now.
The tent transforms back into a regular, old table as Viktor pulls the blanket off. Jayce is wrapped tightly in the soft material by doting hands. Viktor steps back to look over Jayce, somehow having retrieved his cane without Jayce noticing. The blanket is surprisingly large on him, so it can be wrapped around him multiple times.
“Do you want to use the fireplace?”
Jayce blinks up at the pale boy. He can tell that he’s getting taller because Jayce is only an inch shorter than him now. Viktor is looking at him expectantly, a cautious smile on his face.
“We can do that?”
“I don’t know. Do you want to try?”
Jayce sniffs and brings the blanket up closer to his face. After a moment, he nods his head.
Without him noticing once again, Viktor must have brought his old satchel that was usually stuffed with candles or books. This time, however, there were dry sticks and gauze pads. With as much determination as an 11-year-old can have, Viktor sits on the ledge of the fireplace to arrange the sticks and gauze pads in a formation that could get them a small fire. He seems well-practiced, but Jayce has never seen Viktor make a fire before.
Finally, Viktor uses his dad’s old lighter to light the bundle in the fireplace. Jayce had never seen a kid own a lighter before, but he gets why he has it now. Especially now. He can faintly make out the engraved “Jakub N.” on the bottom half of the silver tool.
A fire spreads slowly from the gauze pads to the pile of sticks on top of them. Viktor smiles at it in pride before looking over at Jayce. The thin boy sits on the ground in front of their small camp before patting the spot next to him with hopeful eyes.
Jayce sits on Viktor’s right side, the blanket still tightly wrapped around him. He’s significantly warmer now, but the small fire is a welcome addition. He can see the flames gently curling into the air before unwinding and doing it again and again. It’s like a dance that he’s never appreciated before, even with all the time he has spent in his papa’s forge.
He can see him now, fanning the flames while he makes the most intricately beautiful custom-made tools for their old neighbors. He can see the smile on his face when he allowed Jayce to fan them for the first time. Mama had said it was too dangerous, but she still let him do it every once in a while. He remembers how warm his papa’s skin was. He remembers how loud he would laugh when Jayce would tell him dumb jokes. His eyes were so loving when he looked at his mama.
Jayce’s cheeks feel wet again, but his mouth is turned upwards this time. He doesn’t make to wipe the tears away.
He looks over to his friend and sees golden eyes staring back at him. He looks worried, but the worry is understandable. Jayce knows that Viktor doesn’t have his parents anymore. When he’d learned about it, he had cried. Even though Viktor isn’t crying over the death of Jayce’s father, he can tell that his friend is just as pained as he is. He’s sure there are things he remembers about his dad, maybe even his mom. Maybe they share some of those. Like the love they had for their children.
They spent the rest of the night like that. At some point, Jayce had gotten closer to Viktor so he could lean his head on the other’s shoulder. Viktor let him, leaning his own head on top of Jayce’s.
After a couple of hours, the fire died out naturally. Jayce knew he couldn’t stay there forever, but he’s sure his mother was dying for him to come home. He and Viktor had parted that night with another long hug, where Viktor had reiterated his earlier statement.
“I will never leave you. I promise.”
___–1–___
Jayce is thirteen now. It’s November, and the streets are mostly empty, as they usually are. He’ll never get over how abnormal it feels for it to be this quiet outside.
Viktor had kept his promise, and fortunately, Jayce hasn’t had to keep his. Since starting middle school, he’s gotten a bit more attention from other kids. Jayce likes to think he’s filling out alright—he’s already standing at 5’9”, and he’s been building up muscle from helping his mama in the small forge they had bought not too long after Papa died. She mostly deals with the oil business now, but Jayce loves the forge too much to let it sit stagnant.
One of the first things he noticed when he came back to school was snotty guys trying to befriend him and girls batting their lashes at him. It felt odd to be so sought after, especially since no one did in elementary school. He couldn’t help but feel like it’s performative. He never really stopped liking Lord of the Rings, but he did manage to broaden his horizons a bit when he decided to get into Star Wars.
Viktor was more than willing to watch that with him when he proposed that idea. It was easy to pirate and download all the Star Wars movies directly onto his mom’s ancient laptop, but the portable generator was a bit tricky to deal with, especially since the cables didn’t want to connect properly. Viktor was able to fix the problem in under a minute, to Jayce’s humiliation.
As it was bound to happen, sometimes his new school buddies would bring up the town cripple. At first, Jayce didn’t know who they were talking about. That was until they mentioned a “Russian accent”. The other boys must have mistaken his mortified confusion as morbid curiosity or a need for gossip—something other than disgust for their title for Viktor. They began “describing” Jayce’s friend to him with excruciating falsities.
“You know that old, black house that’s close to the interstate? Has the greenhouse by it?” One of the boys asks—Brayden, if Jayce recalls correctly. His dirty blonde hair drapes over his face in a way that gives away his annoying nature before he even speaks.
“Uh, yeah. What about it?” Jayce says innocently.
“That’s where Dr. Reveck lives,” another boy with darker hair and glasses says. Jayce doesn’t remember his name. “Reveck is this kid’s uncle, apparently.”
“Some uncle. I’d never let him leave the house if I was him!” Brayden says, proving Jayce’s point for him.
“What’s wrong with him?” Jayce says, having to bury the simmering anger deep in his chest.
“I ‘dunno, man,” says a third boy, this one with bright blonde hair. He acts like the group’s “leader”, so he knows this boy to be Levi. “He’s just a creep, y’know? He walks like a crypt keeper with that ratty ol’ cane of his. Only time I see him is when he’s walkin’ down Jensen Avenue. Right in front of my house.”
Jayce distantly remembers that being a street on the way to their secret house. His blood runs cold.
“Do you see him… often?”
“I mean, not really. Once a week, maybe.”
Jayce comes to the sudden realization that his friend is not only a spectacle in town but is also fiercely mocked by the rudest pricks he’s ever met. A flash of fear for his friend shoots through his mind.
“You ever, like… talk to him or something?” Jayce asks as casually as he can, forcing his fingers to loosen around his water bottle.
“No way, man!” Brayden, the absolute goon, says, “I’ve heard him talk before. He’s got a Russian accent. He’s got to be some kind of spy or something.”
The rest of the boys laugh, but Jayce maps Brayden’s face in his mind so he can imagine beating it to a pulp later on. The topic moves on, but Jayce is stuck there, thinking about how those other boys spoke about his friend—the kindest, most understanding, and most gentle boy that Jayce has ever met. If he admits it to himself, he’s also the prettiest boy he’s ever seen, but that’s something he’ll keep under lock and key.
That Saturday, Jayce skips dinner with his mama. It was hard to make the case for it, but she was happy to hear that he was eating out with his new school friends. He tells her all of their names, what they talked about at lunch, if he’s met any of their parents, and anything else to let him go hang out with them. He’d never tell her how much he hates them.
Jayce had never been to Viktor’s house before. Viktor had told him that his uncle Corin doesn’t generally like unexpected guests, especially children. Something about not wanting to clean up after someone else’s child. The sentiment didn’t sit right with Jayce, but he let it go at the time.
Jayce had to time it perfectly so that Viktor would be walking out the door right as he was coming up. Anxiety still made him leave early, so he ended up having to wait by Reveck’s mailbox for Viktor to come out.
Looking at the house up close, it still looked hauntingly melancholy. That light from the attic window is off now, making the house seem dead. The greenhouse seems lively, though, with shadows of tall greenery showing through the foggy glass windows. Proof of life, Jayce supposes.
The front door opens, and Jayce stands up straight. Half expecting Reveck to come out and yell at him to leave, Jayce releases a breath when he sees Viktor walk out. He doesn’t notice him at first, turning to shut the heavy-looking door quietly, like he is trying not to alert his uncle. Jayce knows the action all too well.
Viktor finally turns and startles when he spots Jayce waiting at the end of his long driveway. Jayce can faintly see a confused smile pull at his lips. He’s wearing one of his uncle’s hand-me-down coats, making him look even smaller than he actually is. He smiles back brightly, hands still buried in the pockets of his red hoodie. Viktor makes a small gesture to come closer as he makes his way down the porch stairs. Jayce half-jogs his way there.
“This is an… interesting surprise,” Viktor states with a questioning smile. He accepts the hand offered to him as he finishes the last two steps.
“Hello to you, too, Vik,” Jayce responds with a teasing smile of his own.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Viktor asks, a brow raised.
“What? I can’t see my friend at his house?” Jayce turns to start the long trek over to their secret house.
“It must have taken you a little over twice as long to get here from your house,” Viktor retorts, “I can’t imagine why you’d want to do that.”
“Seriously?” Jayce laughs like Viktor just made a ridiculous joke, “Maybe I just want to walk with you.”
Viktor squints his eyes at him, but there’s no actual suspicion in them. Jayce squints back at him. Viktor shakes his head with a laugh, finally walking alongside Jayce.
“There’s something else going on, but I haven’t figured it out yet.” Jayce sputters indignantly at the accusation.
The two boys start walking together to the house, sharing muffled laughter to not disturb the quiet street. Jayce knew that Viktor took a while to walk to the house, and Jayce never faulted him for it. With a bad leg, one can comfortably only go so fast. If he were to guess, a walk that would take Jayce about 45 minutes takes Viktor about an hour and a half. He keeps Viktor’s pace, never pushing him to go faster.
Coming up on an intersection that Jayce vaguely recognizes, Viktor slows his pace to a drag. The shorter male’s eyes dart over the street as they approach. Jayce peeks up at the street sign, and his jaw clenches.
Jensen Ave.
This neighborhood is a little more tightly packed than his own. There are houses all up and down the street, none that he’s had to pay attention to before. This time, though, he scans them wildly, looking for a familiar mop of blonde hair.
“You are looking at those houses quite intensely,” Viktor interrupts his scanning. “Did they personally insult you?”
“Um…” Jayce says, spotting a front door to one of the houses wide open, “Kind of…”
“Oh?” Viktor muses, “Hopefully nothing about Mrs. Talis.”
“She’d hate it if you called her that,” Jayce scolds with a laugh.
A boy with a black Piltover University hoodie on comes from that open front door, and Viktor stops dead in his tracks. Jayce stops too, staring ahead at the boy carrying a full trash bag to the large trash can in front of his house. This guy looks far too young to go to college. Didn’t Levi mention an older brother? Viktor had said he takes the same path every Saturday to get to the house. Jayce wonders if this happens every Saturday, too.
The boy in the hoodie turns in the opposite direction of them, to the other side of the street, before turning to look in their direction. The smug look on his face dies instantly as he lays eyes on Jayce, who is standing beside the town cripple, as Levi put it earlier that week. His eyes dart in between the two for a moment before he gives Jayce an awkward smile. He waves at the taller boy before quickly turning to run back into his house.
The front door slams shut, and Jayce feels his agency come back to his body. He has to blink a few times, finding that he hasn’t since he saw that familiar blonde hair under that hood.
“Jayce…” Viktor mumbles beside him. Jayce quickly turns to see his friend staring at him with an uneasy frown.
“Yeah? What’s wrong?”
The pale boy doesn’t respond at first before shaking his head.
“Let’s go,” he says quietly. The rest of the walk is mostly silent.
Later on that night, just as Princess Leia is telling Han Solo that she loves him, Viktor pauses the movie with a tap to the space bar. Jayce’s hand pauses as he is lifting another piece of popcorn to his mouth from a premade bag. His eyes shift to the pale boy, who is looking at him with a conflicted scrunch to his brows.
“Did you know that boy?” He asks simply.
“What boy?” Jayce responds, lowering the popcorn back to the bag.
Viktor huffs, the crease in his brow turning more frustrated.
“The boy we saw on the way here, Jayce. Do you know him?”
“Oh. Kind of. We go to the same school.” Jayce answers easily. The answer doesn’t seem to ease his friend.
“Are you… are you friends with him?”
Jayce makes a face at the notion.
“No way. He and his dumb buddies come sit by me during lunch. I don’t even remember half of their names.”
Viktor’s mouth twitches like he’s holding back a laugh.
“That’s… Why do you let them sit with you? If you don’t like them, that is.” Viktor’s voice trails down in volume, his head dipping insecurely.
Jayce’s own brow creases, concern ebbing through him. He remembers how Viktor slowed when they crossed onto that street, how he had stopped as soon as he saw the hooded offender step out of his house. His breathing feels heavy.
“Viktor,” Jayce starts with an unusual firmness in his voice, “has that kid hurt you?”
Golden eyes meet his instantly. The prior apprehensive look is replaced by one of nervous curiosity.
“What?”
“I saw how you got nervous at that intersection,” Jayce accuses gently. “Do you not like going over there for a reason?”
“I-I don’t…” Viktor shakes his head with a scoff, probably wondering how this turned around on him. “Why does that matter? He didn’t do anything this time—”
“He has before, though, right?” Jayce presses, his volume rising with that anger from before reappearing. “What did he do? If he laid a hand on you, I swear to God, he’ll be missing a few fingers by daylight—”
“Jayce!” Thin hands shoot up to Jayce’s mouth and press it closed. “Don’t say things like that! You can’t do that—Ew!!”
Viktor pulls his hands away in disgust and wipes the fresh spit on his palm on Jayce’s hoodie. “What are you, a child?!”
“If I am, then you are too. Don’t change the subject!”
“I wasn’t! You licked my hand! Barbaric imbecile…”
With an annoyed breath, Viktor looks away. He seems lost in thought as he picks at a loose thread on the old mattress the two of them are sitting on. It’s a wonder that the crusty padded fabric is still so soft. Jayce morbidly wonders what kind of people laid on it before Viktor and he.
It seems small, like a double instead of a queen. It probably belonged to a teenager like himself before it was left behind. Maybe someone found it after that and did all the nasty drugs he hears about at school on it. This house is the perfect den for those folks, isn’t it?
But right now, this house belongs to Viktor and Jayce. It is a beacon of what they have become, what they will become. Of how many years they’ve known each other and how many laughs they’ve shared. Of how many times they’ve cried into each other’s shoulders.
Looking at him now, Jayce realizes that Viktor is used to being on his own. Sure, they’ve been together most Saturday evenings, but besides that, he’s only around his uncle. This isn’t the first time Jayce has mentioned other kids, but this is the first time that Viktor has.
Past the frustration evident on his face, there’s a deeply insecure quiver in his eyes, even as his attention is pulled away from Jayce. The anger that had reared its ugly head morphs into anxiety.
“Why are you asking?” Jayce asks quietly.
Viktor glances his way before quickly looking back down. The answer seems obvious now, but Jayce wants to know for sure what his friend has had to deal with.
“That boy doesn’t like me much,” his friend mutters.
“What’s he said to you?”
Viktor turns his face further away from Jayce, his shoulders hunching inwards. Jayce imagines that position must be painful for his back.
“Nothing outside the normal insults.”
“Nothing normal about being insulted, Vik,”
“Well, maybe the correct word is ‘regular,’ then.”
“Just tell me what he’s said, smartass.”
Viktor attempts to hide a chuckle by dipping his head. Jayce smiles a bit at the gesture, but the solemn look in his eyes never leaves.
“There’s been a few common things,” Viktor starts with a sigh, “like, for instance, a ‘creep.’ He usually says something like, ‘How is the creepy cripple doing today?’ I don’t answer. It just leads to more mocking.”
Jayce nods as Viktor recalls his past interactions with the boy—Levi, his mind supplies.
“Sometimes he will call me more creative words. Queer, Russian, hunchback—that one doesn’t make much sense to me. I don’t have a hunchback.”
Jayce huffs a laugh at Viktor’s gripe. Of course, he would critique other people’s insults for him.
“Those don’t sound very creative, just rude,” he comments.
“Hm, maybe,” Viktor shrugs, “They don’t bother me much, though.”
“How come?”
“That’s how it has been for… 7 years,” pale fingers run through brown waves. “After a while of the same thing, you just stop expecting something to change. You just… get used to it.”
“But you kind of seemed scared of him,” Jayce prods gently, “He’s never done anything physical before, has he? Or his buddies?”
“Oh, no. After I started homeschooling, I haven’t been bothered very much. Other than when I walk past his house.’
Jayce doesn’t respond, but Viktor must know what he’s waiting for. He finally looks at him with a nervous twitch in his lip. He seems to ponder his words for a minute before he continues.
“I’m just as scared of him as I am of anyone else. He is no different from any other person in that regard,” the pale boy clears his throat nervously. “I was more concerned about you this time.”
Jayce grimaces in confusion.
“What? Why?”
“I assumed he would know who you are. You practically tower over most kids in that school.”
“Okay, but still. What would that matter?”
“Well, I… given your reaction earlier, I feel like you might have heard of my reputation already.”
Jayce remains silent as he scrambles to find a rebuttal. His panic must be evident in his eyes.
“Don’t worry, Jayce. I’m not angry at you,” Viktor soothes bemusedly. “It would be impossible to not know by now. I’m sure they talk about me sometimes when nothing else interests them.”
“Viktor, I swear I don’t believe in any of that stuff. I would never say a bad thing about you.”
“I never said you did,” Viktor assures him, “but I know others do. I just don’t want to…”
He trails off for a while, trying to piece together the best way to make his point. Jayce waits with bated breath.
“I don’t want you to have that same problem.”
Both of them stay silent for a while as those words sink in.
“Wait, what do you mean?”
“I… I feel my words were clear.”
“No, wait.” Jayce shifts his body to be directly pointed at Viktor, Princess Leia forgotten. “Are you saying you don’t want other people to… What, say bad things about me?”
“Well, yes, is that so wrong?” Viktor retorts, the frustrated crease to his brow returning, “To not want my friend to be bullied?”
“No, but what would that have to do with you?”
“Jayce, you cannot be serious…”
“I am totally serious!” Jayce exclaims, his own annoyance rising. “Why would you make people say bad shit about me?”
Viktor sighs like Jayce just said the most obnoxious thing possible, covering his exacerbated gaze with a pale hand.
“What?! I just don’t get it!”
“Well, Jayce, let me put it simply.” Viktor turns his own body as well, now facing Jayce head-on. “If you are seen with me, other people will talk badly about you.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to! That’s just how it is!” Viktor’s voice rises in volume, “None of it ever makes sense! I cannot control my leg, I cannot control my parents being dead, I cannot control my gender—none of it!”
Guilt seeps into Jayce slowly as Viktor rants.
“And yet, all of those things about me—all things I have no control over—are things that people shame me endlessly for! And if you are seen with me, no matter what, that will extend to you!”
Viktor leans back as he recovers from his outburst. Jayce imagines it must’ve felt good to say those things, but he can see guilt forming in those amber eyes. They shut tightly, lanky fingers coming up to rub at them incessantly. Jayce watches silently for a few seconds.
“Hey,” he says, much quieter this time, “you remember what I told you my mama tells me when I’m anxious about other people?”
“To use the bathroom before you meet new people?” Viktor asks, bringing his hands down to smile at Jayce teasingly.
“Firstly, I only peed myself once when I was seven. Secondly, no.” The two laugh briefly at the old story.
“She usually tells me that people who hate you for things you can’t control hate themselves the most out of everyone,” Jayce continues, his grin softening. “And the only people who matter are the people who love you for those things.”
Viktor’s grin matches his own, those honey eyes looking at him with such reverence that Jayce could cry. Viktor pulls Jayce with both arms into an awkward hug that ends up with Viktor basically sitting in his lap. It doesn’t matter to Jayce, though. He returns it easily without a second thought.
___–1–___
Uncle Corin’s pharmacy was far from the stereotype. It was clean and sterile, but the walls were a deep, faded green, with expensive-looking hardwood. floors. Viktor remembers coloring on those floors using copy paper from his uncle’s office printer and random highlighters from drawers in his desk.
Now, though, he has his own desk pushed into the back of the pharmacy, behind the counter and away from prying eyes. While his uncle manages the pharmacy, Viktor can focus on schoolwork. Corin had promised him that when he turned 14, he could stay at home by himself. Until then, every day since he emigrated from Czechia, Viktor has sat in his little corner, scribbling on paper and listening to voices from beyond the counter.
The bell on the door jingles. The first customer in over an hour.
“Welcome,” Corin rasps. Viktor doesn’t look away from his essay. “How can I help you today?”
“I have a prescription for Ximena Talis, please.”
His entire body stops moving. Talis? The name can’t be that common.
“Ah, yes. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Talis. Flu giving you trouble?”
Viktor stands as quietly as he can. His cane taps against the floor as he moves towards the edge of the closest shelving unit. The aisles are positioned perpendicular to the counter, so from the far end of the room, Viktor could see all the way through to the counter.
“Oh, yes, terrible this season. I’m shocked my poor son hasn’t gotten sick.”
She has a son! Viktor peeks around the shelf to the counter, where he sees his uncle blocking the view of whoever he’s speaking to. Viktor leans out a little more as he tries to see past the tall man.
“I’m sure he’ll be just fine if he isn’t sick by now. How old is your son?”
Corin turns towards the blocky old computer to his right, probably pulling up the customer’s prescription. Viktor can see deep brown hair neatly pulled into a bun, but nothing of her face. If only Corin would move just a bit more…
“Thirteen! He decided to pick up sports this year, so he better not get sick.”
Jayce had mentioned starting football a few Saturdays ago. Corin still hasn’t moved. Viktor turns to stagger down the other side of the aisle.
“The athletic types never seem to. The most that I ever prescribe to sports players are painkillers.”
“He better not need any! I don’t know how I’d feel if my boy got hurt on the field.”
Viktor nervously grabs the edge of the shelf for support and slowly peeks around the edge. This time, he sees a kind, older woman with Jayce’s enchanting, sunlit eyes smiling brightly at his uncle. Her clothes are pressed and neat, as if she just stopped by from work. The lines next to her gentle eyes are creased warmly. Everything about her is warm.
Those kind eyes move to Viktor. She must have seen the movement from the corner of her eye. She fully turns her head towards him and smiles at him like he is the best thing she’s seen all day.
“Oh! Do you have a helper today, Dr. Reveck?”
Corin follows her gaze and hums when his eyes land on the boy still hiding behind a shelf.
“Viktor, did you need something?”
The boy shrinks into himself a little with the attention being on him. He feels like a little kid again, hiding from adults that he’s scared might judge him. He hasn’t done that in a long time. He shakes his head shyly.
“No, sir. Sorry.”
“That’s alright. Why don’t you go sit down?”
Viktor looks over to the dark-skinned woman. She is looking at him with warm eyes, the smile on her face only filled with unapologetic kindness. He smiles back at her timidly before nodding and turning to go back to his desk.
“My apologies, Mrs. Talis.”
“Oh, I don’t mind at all. Is that your son?”
“My nephew. He is usually very reserved.”
“Such a polite boy. I bet my Jayce would like him.”
Viktor grins to himself, suddenly overrun with giddiness. He silently agrees with her, but he thinks he likes Jayce way more than the other boy realizes. He can’t wipe the smile from his face until well after she leaves.
___–1–___
“I went to the pharmacy this afternoon and saw a boy there you might know, mijo,” Ximena says, hands covered in flour as she kneads a pile of dough.
“Oh, really?” says her son from behind her. He is a little distracted with schoolwork as he sits on a barstool.
“Mhm. Have you met a Viktor before?”
Jayce doesn’t respond right away, prompting Ximena to look at him. He is looking at her with an all-too-familiar expression—the one where he knows something she doesn’t and doesn’t want her to know. Interesting.
“V-Viktor?” He says timidly.
“Yes! His uncle owns the pharmacy. Such a sweet boy, isn’t he?”
“Yeah, he is. I mean, h-he sounds like it! If you say so…”
Ah, there it is.
“Jayce,” Ximena warns, narrowing her eyes.
“I do know a Viktor! I-I didn’t—I don’t—”
“You better be nice to him, niño!” Ximena scolds, flour flying as she points a finger at him. “I know about those little friends of yours at school. You better not act that way, you hear me?”
“Yes, Mamá, I hear you…” Jayce pauses for a moment before adding, “Wait, know what about my friends?”
“I know how they treat other people. Their parents are the same way, Jayce.” Ximena turns to continue folding the dough. “Tell me about Viktor.”
“About Viktor?” His voice lowers a bit. “W-what do you want to know?”
“How is he in school? Does he make good grades?”
“Yeah, the best grades, actually. He’s… the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
Ximena raises a brow at that.
“Do you have classes together?”
“N-no,” Jayce fumbles with his words for a moment, “Pretty sure he’s a grade above me. I think he has some advanced work, too? He helps me with my work all the time.”
“Oh, that’s nice,” Ximena chuckles softly. “I always thought you’d do better with the, uh… What do you call them? Nerds?”
Jayce laughs at the comment, “Maybe you’re right about that. The other guys just kind of found me. I think I like hanging out with Viktor more.”
“Oh, that’s so wonderful. Why don’t you invite him over sometime?”
Another pause from behind her. Ximena turns again to see Jayce contemplating the question.
“I don’t think his uncle would let him.”
Ximena is the one to not respond this time. She thinks for a while before asking her next question.
“Is he okay? At home?”
“I-I think so! His uncle is just… protective.” Jayce sighs sadly. Ximena’s heart squeezes. “He walks with a cane and has a pretty bad back. I think he’s scared of Viktor getting hurt.”
“Oh, how awful…” She says quietly, “I can understand why, but I’m sure Dr. Reveck would want Viktor to have fun outside his house.”
“Maybe? I just don’t know for sure. Viktor doesn’t talk a whole lot about his home life.” Jayce runs a stressed hand through his perfectly gelled hair. Ximena just taught him how to do that. She’ll scold him for messing it up later.
“How about you just ask? It wouldn’t hurt, right?”
Jayce looks up at her with the anxiety she’s all too familiar with. If it weren't for her hands covered in flour, she would go hug the anxiety out of him.
“Y-yeah, I’ll ask him.”