“Oh, is that all?” Viktor says that teasingly, with a nudge, though perhaps if he knew what was going to happen next, he might not be so joking about it. Perhaps it’s just his own attempt to deflect, a part of him bracing for what he knows will be an overwhelming amount of sentimentality, even for Jayce. This, he thinks, is not something he ever would have guessed his partner was working on, so it’s with some slight trepidation that he settles in to watch.
It doesn’t take long for him to realize what he’s seeing—Jayce’s memories of him over the course of many years, highlighting their happier, closer moments. There are more of them than he might have thought, though he’s sure that’s just his own recency bias is at play here, the near-death operation and the stress of locating the missing summoned most prominent in his mind. Through it all, Viktor himself is the focus, with Jayce’s love and admiration evident in every shot. Where he might ordinarily balk at the mere thought of being observed (or perceived in any way, really), the intent behind the display quickly becomes clear, and Viktor is left speechless as he watches it unfold. It isn’t often that he sees himself from the outside (practically, because neither Piltover nor Cadens has any moving image-recording technology), and it gives him pause. Is this what Jayce felt, over all these years? What he sees in him every day? The sheer volume of the memories over the better part of a decade is a good reminder of just how deeply their lives have been intertwined, even before their romantic relationship. He offers a soft laugh, watching their early failures, and leans in closer to Jayce as they celebrate their successes. He remembers those long nights in the lab. What he was oblivious to, of course, is the quiet moments of observation that seem to be so frequent. Jayce watching him sleep. Passing him coffee the instant he needs it, like it’s second nature. The way he twirls his hair around his fingers, when he’s in deep concentration.
Viktor has known for a long time that Jayce was the only person who really ever understood him. Knows him for who he is and treats him as an equal. That had been important to him, in Piltover, and it’s important to him now, but seeing it in this way for the first time is deeply affecting in a way he didn’t necessarily expect. He doesn’t hate watching himself on this imagined screen. Instead, he watches himself through the eyes of someone who loves him.
When the movie changes to their time in Abraxas, Viktor sees the life they’ve built here so clearly. He’ll never be able to let go of the Undercity, he thinks, not entirely, but all of this makes a very compelling case for what they could have here, if he allows himself to embrace it fully. As everything becomes more and more recent, up to and including the moments they spent together today, his attention drifts from the memories on the screen to the man next to him. Jayce is, obviously, concentrating on the display in front of them, but Viktor is watching him, instead, his own expression welling up with emotion. When it finally ends, he’s turning to meet Jayce, hands instinctually lifting to cup his face, dragging himself further up onto the couch so they can be even closer.
“I know how you feel,” he says, and if that wasn’t true before, it certainly is now. Viktor’s voice is soft, and there’s some confusion in it, and perhaps a hint of concern, as if he’s wondering if Jayce is all right. Obviously all of this was for a reason, though he can’t exactly guess what that reason is. There has never been any doubt, when it comes to what Jayce feels for him. So what, then...?
“You are the only person who has ever understood.” His true, authentic self, and his mind, and the things he cares about and what he values. It means more to him than he can properly express. Then, somehow even softer— “What is it you want to ask me?”
no subject
It doesn’t take long for him to realize what he’s seeing—Jayce’s memories of him over the course of many years, highlighting their happier, closer moments. There are more of them than he might have thought, though he’s sure that’s just his own recency bias is at play here, the near-death operation and the stress of locating the missing summoned most prominent in his mind. Through it all, Viktor himself is the focus, with Jayce’s love and admiration evident in every shot. Where he might ordinarily balk at the mere thought of being observed (or perceived in any way, really), the intent behind the display quickly becomes clear, and Viktor is left speechless as he watches it unfold. It isn’t often that he sees himself from the outside (practically, because neither Piltover nor Cadens has any moving image-recording technology), and it gives him pause. Is this what Jayce felt, over all these years? What he sees in him every day? The sheer volume of the memories over the better part of a decade is a good reminder of just how deeply their lives have been intertwined, even before their romantic relationship. He offers a soft laugh, watching their early failures, and leans in closer to Jayce as they celebrate their successes. He remembers those long nights in the lab. What he was oblivious to, of course, is the quiet moments of observation that seem to be so frequent. Jayce watching him sleep. Passing him coffee the instant he needs it, like it’s second nature. The way he twirls his hair around his fingers, when he’s in deep concentration.
Viktor has known for a long time that Jayce was the only person who really ever understood him. Knows him for who he is and treats him as an equal. That had been important to him, in Piltover, and it’s important to him now, but seeing it in this way for the first time is deeply affecting in a way he didn’t necessarily expect. He doesn’t hate watching himself on this imagined screen. Instead, he watches himself through the eyes of someone who loves him.
When the movie changes to their time in Abraxas, Viktor sees the life they’ve built here so clearly. He’ll never be able to let go of the Undercity, he thinks, not entirely, but all of this makes a very compelling case for what they could have here, if he allows himself to embrace it fully. As everything becomes more and more recent, up to and including the moments they spent together today, his attention drifts from the memories on the screen to the man next to him. Jayce is, obviously, concentrating on the display in front of them, but Viktor is watching him, instead, his own expression welling up with emotion. When it finally ends, he’s turning to meet Jayce, hands instinctually lifting to cup his face, dragging himself further up onto the couch so they can be even closer.
“I know how you feel,” he says, and if that wasn’t true before, it certainly is now. Viktor’s voice is soft, and there’s some confusion in it, and perhaps a hint of concern, as if he’s wondering if Jayce is all right. Obviously all of this was for a reason, though he can’t exactly guess what that reason is. There has never been any doubt, when it comes to what Jayce feels for him. So what, then...?
“You are the only person who has ever understood.” His true, authentic self, and his mind, and the things he cares about and what he values. It means more to him than he can properly express. Then, somehow even softer— “What is it you want to ask me?”