Chapter Text
It's been about 735 days.
It’s been 735 since Cassandra Kiramman was laid to rest, and Caitlyn was left 23 and motherless. Not fatherless, though. Not that he was in a much different state. Maybe worse of one, but Caitlyn didn't know. Everything had become so… consuming she couldn't help him, let alone herself. She'd broken the news, she picked the outfit, she picked the nail polish, the jewelry, the way her hair was styled, the casket, so that when people saw her last, they'd know that was Cassandra. That was her mother.
She doesn't remember much.
Accident, conversation, school, funeral, work, conversation, people, places, things.
The first year was condensed into a ball of sadness only her and her father could understand. Cassandra had left an inescapable void, and assigned a title to Caitlyn she wasn't sure what to do with. The new matriarch of the Kiramman household was something she was groomed to become, but it wasn't earned. She wasn't the woman she was supposed to be yet. Caitlyn felt it. She felt it every day as she passed by portraits of her mother, the furniture, the curtains, the silverware, the candles, even the crown moulding. Everything was everything she couldn't be or replace and it was suffocating.
A new apartment helped. It gave her a chance to express herself in a way the Kiramman estate didn't. Different plants, colors, and decor gave her the room to breathe. No reminders of what she needs to be just yet. She made a deal with her father. One more year of mourning. Caitlyn wasn't proud of the other two, but Cassandra wouldn't want her to waste away on her behalf.
But she wanted to waste away today, at 7:47am as her alarm blared oddly close to her head. Groggy, she searches for the source to no avail. It's not under her pillow like it sounds. Fine. Caitlyn forced herself to sit up, finally opening both eyes and finding her phone shoved in the pillowcase. Brilliant.
The light's blinding as she tries to locate the snooze icon. Only it's not there. Mel Madarda’s name rolls across the screen, with a photo of the two out at brunch her boyfriend Jayce took. Oh. Oh.
Brunch. She has brunch today. Caitlyn answers the phone, being greeted with an oddly chirpy “Good morning, Ms. Kiramman!” Over the line.
“You're up oddly early.” Caitlyn skips the good morning. If it were a good morning she'd be asleep.
“Duty calls.” Mel answers. “You'd be surprised how much can go wrong with a make-up launch over a weekend.” Caitlyn smiles. “Do you know how many blushes are made with white as a base?”
“Oh…” Caitlyn swings her legs over her bed. “I thought you sampled…” She can't find the words yet, and the rest of the sentence comes out as a yawn that makes Mel fill in the gaps.
“I thought I did as well, I must have overlooked blushes or someone thought I wouldn't need to test them.” Caitlyn paddles to her kitchen, putting on the kettle for a much needed coffee. “And mind you, I didn't think blushes would be a part of the launch. It was meant to just be a pallette.”
“Regardless, be sure to snag me one before they sell out.” Caitlyn wasn't super interested in makeup, but Mel’d found her niche. She'd caved in during her first year of college when people shifted from paying attention to her political views to her style. It was like they'd become socialites overnight.
They'd gone from politicians' daughters to topics of interest in the tabloids after a particularly… provocative night out when the trio had been caught underaged drinking. The photo in the car had been plastered everywhere. Jayce in the passenger seat mid speech about God knows what (Which to this day, he still laments about how they could've picked a better photo), with Mel and Caitlyn in the back laughing at him, clearly plastered and in matching, blindingly sparkly cocktail dresses that the public had decided to make a trend therefore after.
They hadn't even seen the flash go off, but Gods did they remember the photo. Cassandra had screamed from the heavens and back at her. How was she supposed to become a respected eye of the public with that behavior? She'd been in denial over her daughter's love for justice and life away from the public eye, but Mel hadn't. Maybe if her mother had been more accepting, she wouldn't have felt the need to befriend Mel, and that photo would have never been taken. The thought makes her laugh.
“Any reason the blushes couldn't wait till brunch?” Caitlyn asks, scooping coffee grinds into her french press.
“Oh,” she can hear Mel’s voice falter a bit as her obnoxiously loud car starts up. “I wanted to brace you for a conversation…” A conversation? Caitlyn's eyebrow shoots up. What kind of conversation? Mel continues like she heard the thought. “Jayce and I love you very dearly, and we think you've fallen into a bit of a slump…”
“I told myself I'd go another year-”
“Which I am well aware of, but Jayce doesn't seem to care. He’s adamant that getting between the sheets would cure you of all problems.”
“If only-”
“So just prepare for that. I know you're not a fan of those types of surprises and I can already sense how relentless Jayce is going to be. Although, I think he just misses our club days."
“We're young, we can still go to the club.”
“We go, you don't. He misses his trio.”
“Right. I'll think about it.”
“Good. That's all you need to do and even say. Don't let him tell you otherwise. I have to go. Once again, duty calls. Love you, Cait.”
Caitlyn kisses the phone in lieu of a goodbye, hanging up as she stops the kettle from boiling. Great. Dating. She hadn't thought about that in a minute.
________
The treadmill’s whirling fills the gym. There's a couple of stragglers that Vi can count, but other than that it's pretty empty for almost 8am. Not uncommon for a Sunday. It’s like everyone around here works on the same schedule. Monday, Wednesdays, and Fridays are prime workout days while weekends are for the more fun activities that Vi has the pleasure of teaching.
This, however, is not to Vi’s pleasure. She listens as the broad shouldered man rambles. He's gotta be loaded. Most people here are, but his gym gear looks designer. Especially his shoes.
She increases the incline. That's all she's been doing while listening to him talk.
“What do you think?” He asks. Whoops. She wasn't listening. She just met him today. Was she supposed to be?
“I wasn't listening.” She decides to be honest. It's something she's been trying to be in the last two years at her sister's request. He laughs, like a real hearty laugh through the breathing.
“C'mon man, I can't ask my girlfriend.” She gives him a dead stare. “You're a real hardass, aren't you?”
“Nah, just a lot of words for 8am. Repeat it, I'll listen.” Well, she'll try her best.
“Don't you work here? Aren't you supposed to at least act interested?”
“My job is teach boxing-”
“Oh, boxing-?”
“Wasn't an invitation-help clients, clean, do literally anything else but help you with your girl problems.”
“It's not girl problems. It's friend problems. I'm asking you because you look like you'd give me a straight answer and I'm afraid if I go to click anything on this fucking treadmill it'll be the power button-time?”
Oh right. She was timing him. “5 more minutes.”
“Fuck man,” Vi smiles. He doesn't look like a cardio guy. “If you had a two year involuntary dry spell what would you do?”
“Have sex-” The man scoffs like he didn't just say he came to her for straight answers. “Does your friend want to get back out there?”
“No, but she needs to.” He huffs. “She's been so focused with school and work she's barely talked to anyone she'd be interested in, and I want to go back out and have fun with my friend again. I want to go to the club and drink and fucking party, man.” Yeah… Vi’s out of her depth here.
Two years was surprisingly enough time to catch up on all the things she'd missed while in Stillwater. She wanted to go to the bar, so she went. Easy. She wanted to have sex, so she did. Somehow just as easy. Well, meaningless, but easy. Vi doesn't see the point in forcing. But also, she doesn't have a lot of friends who'd do that for her.
Sure, Claggor and Mylo might, but they're on the same page about practically everything. Plus they're pretty busy with their own lives. They don't have time to meddle.
“I’ve got at least 5 more years of freedom, I intend to spend them wisely.” She hums at that, not caring about whatever vague thing he's referring to. “Do you know any good places? Preferably out of Piltover?” Jayce's eyes drift to the window behind them. They've got 3 more minutes.
“Nah, never been to the club.” She was more of a bar guy, but he didn't need to know.
“Really?” She nods, a big, annoyed nod. “How come? And are you taking clients? The whole not a fan of speaking thing is something that I'm looking for in a personal trainer-”
“Prison, and not allowed to have clients until…” Until next month. It's like Vander has her on “probation”. It's not like she has any intention to end up back in jail. “Next month.”
“Alright. Next month?” She can tell he's trying to be nonchalant, but he's failing. “Prison?”
“False charges.” Is all she answers. She's not getting into the thick of it. Vi doesn't wanna think about it. Powder-no, Jinx makes her think about it enough.
“Ah. Well then.” He stops the treadmill a minute before he's supposed to stop. “You murder anyone?”
“No.”
“Are you a liability?” He huffs out, hands on his knees.
“I don't consider myself to be.” Vi answers honestly. At least by her definition. What exactly was his? He holds out a large, sweaty palm.
“My name is Jayce Talis.” She doesn't take it, but he keeps it out anyway.
“Vi.” He hums, putting the empty hand on the handlebar to hoist himself back up. Jayce takes the moment to scan her face, probably noticing the VI under her eye.
“How much would it take to convince you to take someone on as a client?”
“Uh…” This is one of those moments where she could lie. Not that it would hurt anyone. Especially not pretty boy's pockets. “I'm not supposed to.” She decides to reiterate.
“200?” He pushes.
“Listen man, I'm not a personal trainer of any sorts, I don't have training. I can refer you to someone else.” He shakes his head, leaning to grab the water bottle from next to the treadmill before getting off. He takes a quick swig before resuming his argument.
“You're from Zaun, right?” She nods. “I need a trainer and so does my friend. He's got some issues with his leg and back and he needs actual physical movement along with some PT. I'll pay double. He's from Zaun as well, so. It'll be good for him-and the extra cash can't be too bad, right?”
Vi stares at this… determined man. She's said no like 5 fucking times.
“I can check with my boss?” Vander should've taken this month of “probation” to give her fuckin’ PR training or something. She can't talk for shit, nor does she know what to do in this situation. Punch him? Kick him out?
“Perfect.” Jayce rubs the sweat off his neck, smiling.
________
“I don't need a trainer. I have a pool, I use it.” Caitlyn watches as Victor pours champagne into his glass, opting out of the mandatory premade mimosas they always get. Jayce has already begun to stress him out.
“So now I have two trainers?”
“You could fire the one that clearly didn't want a job?” Viktor suggests, and Mel giggles into her drink, eyes looking for something new on the menu.
Caitlyn copies her perusing, catching her menu before it flutters into Viktors space via the wind. The breeze feels lovely today, and Caitlyn's happy the weather is nice out today. She could fit a week's worth of outing into today, but that wouldn't be a good idea.
“She said she went to jail on false charges, figured the girls could talk to her. Pick her apart or something. More bang for my buck.”
“How thoughtful.” Caitlyn jokes as he deflates across from her.
“Speaking of thoughtful…” Mel tries to lead Jayce into another social failure to rip the band-aid off.
“Right. You need to get laid, Cait.” Oh. That's more straightforward than she thought it would be. “Or at least go out and enjoy your life more. With us. We miss our friend.” He points a finger at Viktor. “You will be coming as well.”
“Ah yes, I would thoroughly enjoy the brashness of a club.” Viktor’s already checked out of the conversation. She follows his eyes to some soup. Brunch soup. The thought makes her giggle.
“Cait?” She looks back up at him. “Going to the club? A little bit of dancing? Saturday? Yes? No?”
“Let me think about it?”