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aerynwrites · 2 years

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Gotta Believe it’s Gonna be Alright || Part 1

Jayce Talis x Viktor

A/N: Written for the “occult/Supernatural” prompt for @jayvikaugust This idea was heavily fleshed out by my friend @thedreamlessnights and they helped me SO much with this idea and basically helped me co-write it. So this has been our baby for the past week or so and the weeks to come as we finish it up! it will be 3 main parts with 2 alternative endings you can choose from. Hope you all enjoy!

Synopsis: After a car crash upended Jayce’s life, he decides to try and start fresh with a new house in a new city. However, soon after he arrives, weird occurrences start to happen in his house and he finds that he may not be as alone as he thinks he is as he slowly starts to uncover the mystery behind the houses previous owner.

WC: 7k

You never know what tomorrow will bring.

The saying was something Jayce had heard his whole life, but had never truly taken to heart. That is, not until he learned it the hard way. It had all started with getting accepted into a prestigious university on a scholarship. What had begun as excitement, passion, and exhilaration, quickly became anything but. Days blurred into weeks and then into months, drowning in coursework, unable to keep up. Bad luck turned into daily occurrences - catching colds, which meant he missed work and classes, his car frequently breaking down, and, eventually, being laid off from his job due to budget cuts. So, no, he’d never known what tomorrow would bring. And, today, he definitely hadn’t known that the rust-red pickup truck would blow through a red light and come barreling into the intersection.

But here he is, mid-impact, breath caught in his lungs. And, all around him, everything seems to be frozen.

Metal screaming as it’s crushed beneath the weight of the other car. Tiny shards of glass that seem to float in slow-motion around him, like flakes of falling snow glinting in the afternoon sun. His stomach rolls with his car, and in a split-second surge of motion, he catches a glimpse of the concrete rushing up at him through his windshield. Then everything goes black.

The first thing he registers after that is voices. Too many voices, too close, and too loud - all at once, intensifying the throbbing in his skull as he struggles to comprehend his surroundings.

“This isn’t some surprise, we’ve kept up with his grades - his performance. He’s been trending downwards, slacking off, not completing assignments-”

Cassandra?

“Darling, you shouldn’t be so hard on him - a university like this requires time to adjust-”

Tobias.

“Adjustment is a luxury Jayce doesn’t have - not anymore.”

The words are scathing, full of disappointment and regret. Jayce wants to speak up - to defend himself and explain what’s been happening, but all that comes out is a pained groan as the much too bright lights meet his eyes.

“Jayce-”

His eyes focus when he hears that voice, squinting as he turns to see his mother standing at his bedside, the Kirramans behind her.

“Mom?”

A familiar hand slides into his own where it rests by his side, and he squeezes it weakly.

“I’m here, Jayce. I -”

Jayce tries to sit up, but a blinding pain shoots through his ribs, knocking the air from his lungs and forcing him back into the pillows.

“I can explain about school,” he mutters, teeth gritted. “Please-”

The words are barely past his lips before Cassandra is speaking up again, eyes void of their usual warmth as she looks at him. “There’s nothing to explain, Jayce. Your scholarship is gone, with the way that you’ve been…”

As the words hit him, Jayce’s ears ring. His scholarship…gone?

Cassandra’s lips are still moving, but he doesn’t hear a word she says. Instead, his eyes fall to the woman beside him. His mother. The one who’s always believed in him. Now, she looks as if she’s at a funeral, rather than her son’s bedside.

Disappointment - the emotion is clear as day in her eyes, and it makes his head pound even worse.

It feels like every sensation, every ounce of noise and emotion and pain, has been increased by tenfold.

Cassandra and Tobias arguing, his mother’s whispered questions in his ear - it feels like he’s suffocating. Like he’s drowning.

His voice shakes as he speaks, hands clammy as his heart beats erratically in his chest, sending the machine by his bed into a frenzied beeping.

“Can I just have a moment, just-”

No one's listening. No one even notices. His words are lost in the chaos of the room.

“Please, can you just listen?” he tries, but those are lost, too.

The machine grows louder, almost deafening despite the other voices in the room, and all at once, it’s like his lungs aren’t working.

Too much. Too loud.

He can’t stop himself as he rips his hand from his mother’s, eyes clenching shut as he tries to drown out the noise and then-

Silence.

Days bleed past where he isn’t himself, where his body seems to move of its own accord. Where life passes, but he’s left behind, trapped in that bed. Seeing everything, but not experiencing.

By the time he’s back to himself, it’s a week later. He blinks and he’s there, and it’s different. He’s moving out of the dorms. He’s finding a new house. He’s alone.

He tries to ignore that ache in his chest, but it won’t fade - and it’s not from the bruises on his ribs.

He’d fucked up.

He’d fucked up everything.

Even after he finally chooses a place to stay and moves in, the crowded boxes around him do nothing to block his reality. The memory of the hospital room fades in an instant, but the pain still lingers among the silence of this unfamiliar house, and he winces as he opens his eyes.

The floorboards creak beneath his weight as he shifts his feet, but that is the only sound in the room besides his breathing.

Silence. Unnerving silence that makes him feel more alone than ever before.

But maybe that’s for the best - being alone. He has no one left to disappoint. Well, maybe himself, but…that’s a feeling that’d settled in his chest a long time ago.

Jayce lets out a slow breath, focusing instead on the task currently at hand. Unpacking and trying to settle into this new house.

After the accident and everything that came with it, he hadn’t known what to do. So, what better way to figure out his next steps in life than trying to start fresh? A new city, a new job, a new house - well, new to him. The house itself is old but well-kept, the previous owner clearly taking pride in the house's history.

Jayce likes it as much as he can under the circumstances.

A soft ‘ping’ shakes him from his thoughts and fills the otherwise silent room as his phone vibrates in his pocket. Pulling it out, his heart clenches in his chest at what’s on the screen.

A text from Caitlyn - someone he hasn’t talked to in years, yet who’s just asked the three words that no one else had bothered to ask him since the accident.

Are you okay?

No. He’s not okay. He hasn’t been okay in months, let alone right now standing alone with no clue what the hell he’s going to do next.

What’s the point in doing anything anymore?

He stops that train of thought, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath. Letting it out slowly, he shoves his phone back in his pocket - text unanswered - and finally takes a moment to figure out where to start with all this stuff crowding the living room.

Furniture that needs to be moved, boxes to unpack, clothes to put away…it’s all overwhelming. And the fact that this house is starting to creep him out doesn’t help.

He’s been trying to chalk the uneasy feeling to being alone for the first time in a long time. The house is much larger than he really needs and makes him hear things, or feel like he’s being watched.

But he can’t shake it.

He huffs, leaning down to pick up a random box, the thick black lettering on the side reading ‘bedroom’.

That’s as good a place to start as any.

Jayce walks down the short hallway to the bedroom, nudging the door open with his foot before setting the box down on the floor.

His bed is already in the room along with his nightstand, but the bigger things like the dresser and trunk are still out in the living room, unable to be moved without help.

Help he doesn’t have.

Shaking his head, he kneels down to sift through the box, mostly full of random pieces of clothing and the things that typically sit on top of his nightstand.

Pushing the box across the floor, he follows its trail until he’s close enough to start putting things back where they belong, on the piece of furniture. His alarm clock, one of those sunrise lights he’d seen an ad for on Instagram, and various other things he’d tossed in the drawer over the years.

Finally, his hand brushes one of the last items in the box, the contents of the familiar orange bottle rattling softly as he picks it up.

Sleeping pills.

Prescribed to him just after he’d started university and found it impossible to sleep or stay asleep. His mind constantly running with all the assignments he missed or needed to work on, upcoming projects and papers, his job requirements. He’d only used them when he couldn’t sleep or hadn’t slept well in days, but now…

He rolls the bottle over in his hand, the fine print of the black-box warning glaring up at him as he does so.

Take only as directed. Do not exceed the prescribed amount - misuse of medication may result in serious side-effects or even death.

He stills, mind falling blissfully blank as he rereads the label, his earlier thoughts echoing once again.

What’s the point in doing anything anymore?

He doesn’t even realize he’s opening the bottle until several pills lay piled in his hand. It’s hard to believe the little white capsules could make everything go away.

All his problems, gone. No more sleepless nights, or stress, or failure. No more disappointing the people he cares most about. No more of that gut-wrenching loneliness that’s been gnawing through his chest, eating him alive. No more pain.

Well, maybe a little more pain. But he can handle that. .

He takes in a shaky breath, presses the pills to his lips, and-

BANG!

The pills scatter across the floor as he jumps, heart thundering in his chest at the noise. It’s loud, concerningly so, and sounds like someone had just broken down his front door..

All else forgotten, he scrambles to his feet, slowly making his way down the hallway and into the main section of the house. The entire time, his eyes are scanning the entire way for the source of the sound.

Finally, as he enters the living room once more, he sees it - the collapsible stairs that lead to the attic sit wide open. The noise must have been them falling from the ceiling and hitting the floor.

But how had that happened?

There are only two options that Jayce’s frazzled mind can come up with - one being that there’s someone in his house and the other…

It’s haunted.

He settles on the former as being slightly more likely. Then he grabs a hammer from the toolbox on the living room floor and makes his way to the ladder-like stairs.

Part of him wants to shut them and pretend this never happened, but if there is someone up there, he’d rather know now than find out later.

The old wooden steps groan under his weight as he makes his way up into the attic, hammer ready as he breaches the opening in the ceiling. Once he’s made it in, he pulls out his phone, turning on the flashlight to illuminate the dark space.

He expects an empty room, but instead he’s surprised to see the small room filled with boxes, covered in layers of dust.

Hunching down into the space, he scans the area with his light and is thankful to see a string dangling from a single lightbulb in the ceiling. He tugs it gently and the bulb flickers to life, casting the attic in a dull yellow glow.

It’s strangely beautiful like this, filled with some remnants of life. It’s even better when he sees there’s no one else in the space with him - just old boxes and dust bunnies.

Sighing, he moves to sit on the floor - the uneasiness not quite leaving him even as he sets his hammer aside.

If there’s no one in the house…how did the attic access open? Typically, they take quite a bit of force to pull open and wouldn’t just fall-

His phone pings again. It’s another text from Caitlyn.

Are you going to ignore me forever?

Without thinking, Jayce pulls up the messenger app, fingers typing out the message and hitting send before he has time to stop himself.

I think my house is haunted. 😳

Cait has been his friend for most of his life, so the text comes naturally. One of the things he remembers most fondly from his childhood friendship with her is her obsession with the supernatural. He’d never quite believed in those things, but Cait did. Ouija boards, seances, souls that would never quite move on…it was always up her alley.

Which is why the immediate response from her made his lips quirk upwards.

We’re coming over. Send me your address.

Jayce frowns.

We?

Three dots pop up and disappear before the message comes through.

Me and Vi. You probably need help unpacking right?

He softens at the message. So much has happened since they stopped talking.

Cait had gotten engaged, moved here, and had been promoted to detective at the police department…and Jayce hadn’t been there for any of it. Yet, she’s talking to him as if no time has passed.

Thumbs tap across the screen once more.

1567 Emberflit Lane.

He sends his address and then another message a moment later.

Thanks, Cait.

Of course. Vi says we’re grabbing pizza on the way too. Hope you’re hungry.

As if on cue, his stomach grumbles, and he can’t help but chuckle at the impeccable timing.

Pizza sounds great. See you soon.

He sets his phone aside after receiving a thumbs up emoji from Cait, instead choosing to focus on the boxes in front of him.

He hadn’t thought much about anything when he bought the house, just saw that it was a foreclosure and therefore much more affordable than anything else.

But the things in front of him…it makes him question the history of the house. Because the history seems to be sitting right in front of him, the previous owner's life boxed up and shoved in this dusty attic and forgotten about.

Jayce opens the box closest to him, examining the contents, and is intrigued to find it full of a random assortment of tools and spare parts. More boxes reveal slowly the items these parts go with.

He isn’t sure what they are at first, but, after looking through several boxes, he starts to see a pattern. Prosthetics, braces - even a few modified and advanced prototypes of canes, crutches, and other assistive devices.

Some of the boxes even hold the blueprints and diagrams that go with each device, and Jayce can’t help but be impressed. The work is almost perfect, despite most of the pieces being unfinished.

He’s just opened another box when a soft shuffling meets his ears, like boxes being moved around further into the attic. Looking up, he peers deeper into the dim room, standing slowly to investigate.

All these noises, the stairs falling down, the unsettling feeling of being watched that just hasn’t gone away since he arrived…it’s putting him on edge. More so than he already is.

His search proves fruitless. Nothing seems out of place, and he doesn’t hear the noise again. He wants to look more - both for the source of the sound and at all the other unopened boxes - but the distant chime of the doorbell stops him.

He hurries down the static stairs, making sure to grab the discarded hammer to toss back into the toolbox. The doorbell rings again as he makes his way to the front door, and the sight that greets him when he opens it brings more comfort than he could’ve imagined possible.

Cait stands on the porch. Behind her is Vi, holding two pizzas and a six-pack of beer. Before he can even say anything, Cait is pulling him into a hug so tight he’s afraid she might crush him.

She always was a lot stronger than she looked.

“I missed you,” she says, voice muffled against his shirt.

He returns the gesture, hugging her just as tight. “I missed you too, Cait.”

“This is sweet and all,” Vi speaks up from behind Caitlyn, causing the two old friends to pull apart. “But I’m starving. So can we catch up inside, maybe?”

Jayce smiles at the woman’s teasing and nods, reaching out to take the food from her hands.

“Yeah, of course, come in.”

He stands aside to let the two of them in and kicks the door shut behind them as he leads them into the living room.

“Thanks for getting the pizza, by the way. I didn’t realize I don’t have any groceries until you said something.”

He watches as Vi and Cait stand in the living room, looking around for a place to settle down.

Which…there isn’t any.

Jayce switches into host mode almost immediately, setting the pizzas on a closed box while he tries to clear off any furniture they could use.

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting guests…” He trails off, moving boxes off of an old coffee table and the couch, wiping any dust off as well before gesturing to the cushions. “Please, sit. I’ll get uh…I don’t have any plates either-“

Cait is quick to assure him, grabbing the pizza and placing it on the coffee table, Vi flipping the lids open.

“It’s okay, Jayce. We don’t care about this stuff.”

Jayce shrugs. “I know, I just…” Then he sighs, unsure of what he even wants to say.

Vi pats the cushion between her and Caitlyn, grabbing a piece of pizza with the other. “Just come sit down - I want to hear all about this ‘Golden Boy’ Cait always talks about.”

Jayce can’t stop the smile that tugs at his lips as he complies with Vi’s request. Taking a slice of pizza, he plops down on the couch, and starts to answer the list of questions the pink-haired woman throws at him.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Over the next few hours, the three of them make considerable progress in unpacking and organizing the small home. The living room slowly comes together before they move to the kitchen and then his bedroom. Vi makes herself scarce after helping move the larger furniture into the room, opting instead to start sweeping and do other general clean up in other areas of the house.

She tries to make an excuse for it, but Jayce has a feeling that Cait has wanted to get a moment alone with him -something he’s been dreading since they showed up to his house, but now has no way to avoid.

He tries to busy himself with putting clothes away in the dresser, but the tactic doesn’t work for long, and soon he hears his friend call out to him.

“Jayce…what’s this?”

Her voice is soft as she speaks, and the moment Jayce turns around he realizes what she’s seeing and feels his heart sink to his stomach.

He rushes over to where she stands next to his nightstand, the little white pills from earlier still scattered over the floor. He kneels, sweeping the tiny objects into a pile as he struggles to pick them up, hands shaking.

“I uh - I dropped them earlier, when I was unpacking. The lid snapped open when the uhm-” He pauses, the pills sitting heavily in his hand. “I dropped the bottle when I heard the attic stairs fall open.It spooked me, that's all.”

He avoids his friends' calculating gaze, dumping the pills back into their bottle before tossing the whole thing into the nightstand and shutting the drawer.

The slight creaking of his bed is followed by a soft sigh, and all he can bring himself to do is move to sit beside Caitlyn on the bed, eyes glued to the floor.

“What happened, Jayce?”

He sighs. “I just told you-”

“I’m not talking about the pills, Jayce! But maybe we need to, because I…” She sighs again, and this time Jayce looks over to her, guilt swelling in his chest at the frustrated look on her face.

“We used to be best friends. You were like a brother to me and then…nothing. For years.”

He leans forward, resting elbow on his knees as he worries his hands together. “We just…drifted apart, Cait-”

“No. No!” She cuts him off again. “You distanced yourself from me. Not the other way around. Do you know how many unanswered messages I have on my phone that I sent you? How every year I wished you a happy birthday or invited you to come and meet Vi when we got engaged?”

His heart aches in his chest at the way her voice breaks as she speaks, and he finally forces himself to look over and meet her eyes.

“I know, Cait, I know. And I’m so sorry.” He truly means that, with every fiber of his being. “I just - I wasn’t coping well with…anything and my solution was to just…push everyone away.”

“I gathered that,” she says, voice slightly bitter as silence befalls them.

Neither of them say anything for a while, and Jayce worries for a moment that he’s lost yet another person he loves.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know how I can make it up to you or-”

Jayce barely gets halfway into his apology before he’s wrapped up in another hug, arms looped tightly around him. He returns the gesture hesitantly, unable to understand why he deserves this. He goes to speak, but Cait pulls away before he can do so, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“For starters, you can make it up to me by telling me about your haunted house.”

Jayce grins, standing up to lead her back into the living room to tell both women the story.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Surprisingly, Cait doesn’t automatically jump on the ghost theory. She’s actually the one to look at the stairs and point out there’s a faulty suspension spring, which may have been why the attic access fell open.

The reasoning puts Jayce at ease, and they continue where they left off with cleaning and unpacking. There isn’t much more to go, and as Cait and Vi are finishing up in the living room, he does a final sweep of the kitchen.

He wipes down the counters, starts the dishwasher, and begins sweeping near the fridge. When the broom tugs something out from beneath, he freezes.

It’s a faded newspaper clipping, the fragile paper fluttering back to the ground from where he disturbed it. Leaning the broom against the counter, he stoops down to pick up the paper, eyes scanning over the newsprint as he stands upright again.

Stanwick Corp Releases Groundbreaking Medical Prototype.

The headline is an eye-catcher for sure, but what holds Jayce’s attention is the picture below it. A man stands on a large stage next to what looks to be a robotic prosthesis, his smile wide as he gestures grandly to the invention.

He can’t explain why, but Jayce finds something about the photo familiar. Like a tug in the back of his mind urging him to look further, read the rest of the article to get more information.

“Where’d you find that?”

Cait’s voice startles Jayce from his thoughts, the paper crinkling in his hand as he turns to face her.

“What?”

She gestures to the newspaper. “The Stanwick Corporation - That’s an old article. It came out around the time I was investigating Richard Stanwick.” She chuckles. “Did you know his legal name is Stanwick Pididly?”

Jayce can’t help smiling at the snort she lets out. But her expression solemns.

“That was the only interesting thing I found in that investigation, unfortunately,” she murmurs.

Jayce looks at her, brows furrowed. “You investigated him? Why?”

Cait shrugs. “Got some reports of fraud and tax evasion along with some other unsavory business dealings,” she says, gesturing to the article again. “In truth…I always thought he was shady, his company just barely managing to stay afloat until this sudden invention. But it doesn’t matter, all the reports were unfounded. Never found anything to hold against him. Which I suppose is good…his company has done a lot of good for people since then.”

Jayce nods slowly, eyes falling back to the article as that familiar uneasy feeling settles in his belly. “Hm…”

“Cait!” Vi’s loud voice pulls their attention as she appears in the doorway, eyes glancing between them. “Hey, uh, sorry to break this up but uh-” She glances at her fiancée. “I have that match, remember? I didn’t even realize what time it was.”

At the mention of the time, Caitlyn glances down at her phone and sighs, casting an apologetic look to Jayce. “I’m sorry. Vi has an MMA fight in under an hour, we have to go-”

Jayce waves her off, a small smile on his lips. “Don’t worry about it,” he assures her. “You guys helped out a ton today. Seriously, no worries.”

They both mutter a quiet thanks and gather their things to head towards the door. However ,before they can leave Jayce catches up to them.

“Vi!” The pink haired woman turns back to face him just as he holds out a closed fist. “Good luck at the match. Kick their ass.”

She grins, all teeth and a mischievous wink as she taps her knuckles to his. “You know it. See ya later, pretty boy!”

Cait gives him a smile of her own as her partner rushes down the porch steps and towards the car. She gives Jayce a quick hug before following in her footsteps.

“Text me if you need anything!” she calls over her shoulder before getting into the passenger seat of the car.

Jayce manages to give one last wave before they’re pulling away from the curb and down the street, tail lights disappearing around the corner.

With that, he turns and heads back into the house, shutting and locking the door before heading to his bedroom. Taking a quick look at the clock on his nightstand, he’s hit by how late it is, and suddenly the exhaustion from the day settles deep in his bones.

Glancing to his neatly-made bed, courtesy of Caitlyn, he decides to take a quick shower before going to sleep.

Maybe, for once, tomorrow will bring something good.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

The air in his bedroom is frigid when he wakes up, the thin layer of sweat on his skin raising chill bumps to the surface as he wearily sits up in bed.

The room is pitch dark - the only source of light is the clock on his bedside table, soft blue numbers reading three o’ six in the morning.

For a moment Jayce wonders why he woke up at this hour. Then the fragmented images of his dream flit across the forefront of his mind.

The attic.

The dim yellow glow accompanied by the smell of time past and dust motes circling in the air…

Why had he dreamt of the attic?

He doesn’t even remember what the dream was about but…he can’t help but feel an unnatural tug towards the space in the ceiling.

Without much thought, Jayce tosses the covers off himself, feet meeting the cool hardwood as he stands. Making his way to the living room, he feels that feeling again - the hairs on the back of his neck standing up as if danger is nearby. As if he’s not alone, someone watching his every move.

But the urge to climb the stairs doesn’t abate, so he pushes onwards, pulling down the attic access once he’s in the living room. With Jayce guiding them, the wooden ladder-like stairs hit the ground much softer this time, and he makes his way up as soon as they touch the floor.

The room is the same, the boxes he was sitting though sitting exactly where they were before. But this time he wants to look at the boxes in the very back of the room.

Once close enough for the boxes to be in reach, he sits on the floor, legs crossed as he opens one of the containers. He expects more mechanical parts or prototypes like the boxes before - but this time it’s different.

This time it’s filled with what looks like notes. Notes and notebooks and even a few pictures, all tossed carelessly into the boxes, leaving the parchment wrinkles and bent. Immediately, he reaches into the pile of paper, trying to stack them together somewhat neatly as he sifts through them. Most of them seem to be notes about the prototypes and other projects, ideas and the creator’s thoughts.

An inventor. That must have been who owned the house before him - someone who had a penchant for creating.

He can relate to that. At least…before. Before everything fell apart.

The notes get more details as he digs deeper into the boxes, and also more frantic. Neat handwriting slowly switched to messy scrawl, as if the author had been running out of time.

The notebooks were more of the same - that is, until he got to a particularly thick leather-bound notebook, stuffed in the bottom of the box, one corner of it blackened and brittle. As if someone had tried to burn it.

Setting the other notes aside, Jayce unwinds the leather strings binding the notebook closed. The material is well-worn. The book has clearly been opened and closed dozens of times, and was held in loving hands.

The paper crinkles softly as he flips through the pages, until, towards the middle of the book, several newspaper clippings fall into his lap. He sets the open book on one knee while he shifts through the news articles, and he notices a pattern.

All of them are about the Stanwick Corporation, or about Richard Stanwick himself. Articles about their stocks falling, about their next project, their new heir…dozens of articles dating back years and leading up to the present.

However, the most recent article is dated at a little over six months ago.

Around the same time as the article he found in the kitchen.

It clicks then.

The picture on the article he found downstairs and why it seemed so familiar.

He looks around the attic, eyes landing on a blueprint he had left lying out - it’s the blueprint for the prototype being unveiled by Stanwick in that article.

But what does it all mean?

These notes, the prototypes, the news article…it all points to Stanwick in some way. Did someone associated with the company used to live here?

If so…then why is all this shoved up in the attic like it’s trying to be forgotten? If this stuff belonged to Stanwick or someone who worked for him, wouldn’t it have been claimed by the company?

Jayce glances back at the notebook on his lap, hoping maybe it has answers.

The notes in this book are much different than the others. This isn’t scientific research or prototype ideas…these pages are personal, someone’s internal thoughts spewed onto delicate pages. And they seem to get more devolved the further he flips through the journal until-

It ends. Messy calligraphy giving way to blank pages halfway through the notebook.

He flips back to the start of the last entry.

It’s dated at the same time as the article he found downstairs. Within days of when the article was published.

His brows furrowed, mind running faster than he can keep up with it.

What does it mean? If it means anything at all. Maybe he’s searching for something that isn’t there, his innate nature to fix things taking over.

But something doesn’t feel right. Nothing about this feels-

His ears perk at the sound behind him, the unmistakable sound of footsteps on old flooring.

Immediately, he looks behind him, eyes scanning the space. At first he doesn’t see anything, but as he sweeps the area again, he swears he sees the silhouette of a person at the edge of the attic.

“Who’s there?” he calls, turning to face the intruder only to be met with empty space and no answer to his question.

Fuck this.

He tosses everything back into the box before picking it up and making a beeline for the exit, stumbling down the steps before all but slamming them shut.

His heart races in his chest despite his attempts to rationalize his situation. It’s three a.m, he’s tired, he’s in a new place. His mind has to be playing tricks on him.

The box lands with a thump where he places it on the ground by the couch, and the cushions sag beneath his weight as he sits, a stuttered sigh slipping past his lips. Jayce leans forwards, elbows on his knees as he runs a hand through his hair, eyes glancing to the notebook that sits at the top of the box’s contents.

Part of him wants to take the box back up to the attic, shove it all to the very back and forget everything he's read. It’s probably for the best anyways, instead of him trying to make up a story that isn't there. The previous owner had left all this stuff behind for a reason.

He huffs, reaching out to pick up the notebook again, thumbing through the pages.

“It’s probably nothing,” he says to himself, trying to talk himself down. “It’s just a bunch of junk the old owner didn’t want.”

“It’s not junk.”

Fear shoots through Jayce like lightning at the unfamiliar voice right behind him. He’s on his feet before he even registers moving, spinning on his heel to face the source of the sound. His eyes go wide, heart stalling in his chest as he sees a man standing behind his couch, brows pulled together in frustration and lips turned downward.

“What the hell-”

His foot catches on the corner of the coffee table as he tries to back away from the stranger in his home, and he stumbles, barely catching himself before he falls.

The man speaks again, and this time Jayce notices a distinct accent to his words. “What are you doing in my home?”

Jayce scoffs, stance widening defensively as he squares his shoulders. “Your home? This is my house! You need to leave, right now-”

“I’m not leaving. This is my house, you are the one who does not belong-”

Jayce fumbles for his phone as the man steps closer, stopping only because of the couch that separates them. Holding out a hand in warning, Jayce powers on his device.

“Look, you need to leave right now or I’m calling the cops.”

The stranger scoffs. “This is ridiculous…”

Terrified out of his mind and confused by the stranger standing in his living room, Jayce can’t help but be frustrated. He should just call the cops, have them come arrest him so he can move on with his night but…something isn’t sitting quite right with him.

“Who are you?” Jayce asks.

His questions makes the other man pause, golden eyes watching him before they flick down to the box of notes. He gestures to them, then to the attic.

“You should know, considering you are snooping through my things.”

This answer makes Jayce pause now, the pieces slowly clicking into place. “You’re the previous owner of the house?”

The man rolls his eyes, shifting his weight. “Obviously. Which makes me ask you again, what are you doing here?”

Jayce scrambles for an answer that will pacify him. Obviously this man is confused and doesn’t understand that he no longer owns this house, but it doesn’t make sense. The man before him looks put together - well-dressed, chestnut hair styled neatly…he doesn’t look like the type of person to walk into someone else's home and threaten them.

“Look,” he begins. “I don’t know what to tell you. I bought this house in foreclosure - the realtor didn’t tell me anything about why it was foreclosed or the previous owner I just…I’m sorry, but you don’t own this house anymore.”

It’s silent for a moment as the stranger takes in the information, and Jayce can practically see the gears turning in his head. Without saying anything, the man takes a few steps closer and Jayce’s mouth dries up.

The man - he…he’d passed right through the couch. Like it wasn’t even there.

Immediately, Jayce backs away, and now he’s sure he’s still dreaming.

“Holy shit - Hey! Do not come any closer.” He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, but he doesn’t want this guy anywhere near him right now.

Finally, the other man listens, stopping in the space between the couch and coffee table. Typically having the table between him and a possible threat would console Jayce a little, but considering he just saw this guy walk through solid matter - nothing makes him feel better right now.

“H-How did you do that? You just walked through a solid object!” The laugh that leaves him is one of panic, and he can’t help but close his eyes tight, willing himself to wake up. “This isn’t real - I’m going crazy, I have to be-”

“You are not crazy.”

The words pull him from his panicked state, and Jayce opens his eyes to see the man right where he was a moment ago, but this time he’s looking down at one of his hands, seemingly deep in thought.

“I do not…I don’t understand what's happening to me. I woke up a few days ago when you showed up with a moving truck.” He gestures to the room around him. “At first I was…confused. I didn’t remember how I got back here, why all of my things were gone. Then I noticed this.”

Jayce watches as the man bends down to touch the coffee table, but his hand goes right through the solid surface, just like the couch. He stands straight again, wiggling his fingers as he looks up at Jayce.

“I only started to get my memory back when I found my things in the attic. Then, by that point you’d started to settle in, I noticed that you could…sense my presence but not see me even though I was standing right before you.”

The more he talks, the more distraught he seems to get, as if he’s putting pieces of a puzzle together and not enjoying the picture it creates. He drops his hand, golden eyes locked onto Jayce.

“What is the date?” he asks, head tilting to the side just slightly.

Jayce fumbles, mind blanking on the answer until he glances down to his phone and reads the date off to him. The man’s shoulders slump, eyes falling to the ground.

Jayce takes a step forward, not as worried about him being a threat. “What is it? I don’t…I don’t understand. I can try to help you if I can but I-”

The man cuts him off again with a hand held up before him.

“The last thing I remember before waking up here is being taken,” he says, voice grave. “I was at the supermarket walking to my car when a van pulled up - three men jumped out and pulled me into the van and I…the last thing I remember is them knocking me out and then I was here.”

Jayce doesn’t say anything at first, confusion still consuming him. “I don’t…” he trails off, words failing him.

The man sighs. “If the date you told me is correct, then that incident happened over six months ago. And now I’m like this-” he gestures to himself, passing his hand through the table again before falling silent.

“Am I…dead?”

The question sounds deafening in the silent room, and Jayce doesn’t know what to say. His rational mind is telling him no, that this is still all just a dream that he’ll wake up from any moment. But it all feels too real. He can feel the chill of the floorboards beneath his feet, hear the faint chirping of crickets outside, and can clearly see the person standing before him.

Maybe Caitlyn was right to believe in this stuff.

After going over everything the man said, he can’t help but think the same. He was kidnapped for whatever reason, and maybe they held him for a long time before he passed or they…

Jayce shakes his head, unable to wrap his mind around the idea. But as he glances from this stranger back to the notebook and box of notes…Jayce can’t help but want to figure this out.

Maybe he was brought to this city, this house for a reason.

Maybe he can finally make up for all his failures.

With a look he hopes is determined, he stands up tall once more. “I can help you. Or try at least. If you really are a…ghost or a spirit trapped here, maybe if I find out who did this it can help you, move on or something…What’s your name?”

The man scoffs, a bitter sound that worries Jayce.

“My name is Viktor,” he says, gold eyes locking onto Jayce’s. “And I can already tell you what happened to me. Richard Stanwick wanted to silence me. To take credit for all the work he stole from me.” Viktor’s eyes fall to the article Jayce had found earlier where it sits at the edge of the table.

“And it looks like he succeeded.”

Silence befalls the room as the meaning of Viktor's words settle in, and for the first time in months, Jayce feels a steady resolve settle in his chest. He reaches over, taking the article in his hand before looking up and catching Viktor’s golden gaze once more as he gives him a small smile.

“Well then.” Jayce taps Stanwicks picture with his finger, the newsprint rustling softly. “It looks like we have some detective work to do.”

Viktor sends him a curious look, a frown on his face once more as Jayce continues.

“We’re gonna figure out what happened to you, Viktor.”

And Jayce means that. Whatever it takes…he’s gonna do this right.

#jayvik AUgust #Jayvik #jayce x viktor #viktor x jayce #Arcane Jayce #Arcane Viktor #arcane #jayvikaugust

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