God, Moon loved Jayce. He yearned for that man. Watching him talk animatedly to Viktor about their recent adaptation to the Hexgates, his hands gesturing wildly and eyes glittering.

Oh, his eyes. Jayce’s eyes locking onto Moon’s made the assistant’s entire world stop. Jayce never forgot to include Moon in these types of discussions. He knows it’s probably because Jayce is polite, but he believes it’s because there’s reciprocation.

There isn’t.

But Moon truly believes there is. Why else would Jayce act so kind, so caring? It’s not like he’s like that with every person he meets… he is.

In fact, Moon’s delusion is so real to him, that he gets the brilliant idea to ask Jayce out. Jayce, his boss. Jayce, the man of progress. Jayce, the man whose heart belongs to councillor Medarda.

Fuck.

But somehow, it doesn’t deter the assistant. In fact, in his head, he convinces himself, ‘It was just a hook up. I’ve never even seen them interact, clearly, Jayce does not have feelings for her.’

So Moon prepares his confession, repeating it over and over in his head, and he pours his heart out to Jayce.

And Jayce just stands there, stunned. His eyes were wide, and his mouth opened and closed, blubbering like a fish.

“Moon…” Jayce starts, and Moon absolutely deflates. He knows that tone, that disappointment, the disapproval, the pity. And it breaks him.

“Moon, you know I don’t…” Jayce can’t seem to find words, his eyes darting around the place, as if looking for an escape.

His eyes lock onto Moon‘s. This time Moon’s world doesn’t stop.

“I don’t like you…like that.” Jayce’s voice is gentle, quiet. As if a sound too loud may break Moon.

And it just might.