hexrot: (Default)
jayce "yaoi hand proportions" talis ([personal profile] hexrot) wrote 2025-02-24 06:34 pm (UTC)

[ jayce stays quiet in regards to how he should be feeling; perhaps it's because he understands profoundly the panic and greif that ravished him when he thought he lost viktor, did not stop to think about the repercussions and actually thought . . . he'd done something good with the hexcore. that keeping viktor alive was the right thing to do, but did not take into consideration he promised viktor to destroy what saved him. it's hard to take anything into consideration when you have to make a decision. viktor, at least, knows what it implies. knows it for what it was. jayce only realized the same fact later, when he had more than enough time to ruminate on it.

they deserve each other. they're even, now. they share the worst of their acts between them and no one else. even in this case, it is . . . perfect. jayce needed viktor's disapproval then to evolve as a person. viktor needed the opposite from jayce now— acceptance, to realize something he was blinded to. he could remind him about that . . . later. in a few minutes, or maybe a few hours. right now he is hanging by a thread, a drop away from panic. he has to force himself to look anywhere else but these tubes, else he invites the intrusive thought to rip them out.

he finds that distraction, instead, in viktor's hold. he dares not flee from it because jayce has always been a tactile creature, he's always craved this. he shrinks into him like he would cling to a lifeline, allows himself to be small as he bends his knees and curves his back to the arch of viktor's chest. his only discomfort is in wondering if this feels . . . gross, to him. if all this watery gasoline-blood soaking him would deter him. but then again, both of them were very, very gross right now.

jayce heart skips and slows just a tad, there's still a frightened race to it but it is not wild. there's a difference in the pacing from a few seconds ago to now. he closes his eyes, breathes in because it calms him, a shame that it triggers a cough or two, but nothing he can't chug through. it's the pressure to his forehead that stills him the most, makes his breathing actually stop for a few seconds before he exhales, with relief, and pushes his neck forward in turn. if the beat is still quick, it's for a different reason. he doesn't mind . . . just staying there, for a bit. he'd thought he lost this.

he doesn't mind at all. ]


A— rock. So I wouldn't . . . Disappear.

[ from this. it's enough. this is more than enough. ]

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