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Chapter Text

(Initial A/N to explain process and storyline, recommend reading!)

So, my autistic ass watched Arcane.

I only recently became a fan (I’ve already been gatekept and scolded don’t worry) and didn’t even start watching it until the beginning of December. All of my new interests I acquire consume me for a few months before I can become normal about them, so I’m writing this NOW before I lose all motivation.

This show has quite literally changed my life and torn me into shreds, so I’m legally required to share this so everyone can feel my pain and joy.

I came into this with one simple idea: JayVik/reader. Or, in this case, JayVik/OC. If it’s not obvious from reading some of my other works, I’m an absolute slut for a throuple and must force this image upon every fandom that I’m in. I don’t make the rules, I just follow them.

I went in with a very vague outline and some scenes fully mapped out and realized in my head and just ran with it.

Be warned, this story follows almost the exact canon of the Arcane storyline down to the words, aside from the added character and those individual scenes that came from my own brain. I DO NOT own any of the rights to the show or game, I’m just simply a lazy writer that cannot come up with their own shit. Oops.

For that, it can be considered a “fix-it” fic? Maybe? A little?

For all of my x reader and OC people, I’m hoping I was able to find a good balance between the two. Saphyre is labeled as an original character because of her fully established past, career, and relationships with other characters. And the fact that she has a name and she/her pronouns. (I’m so sorry if this is exclusive, as an AFAB non-binary person, it is simpler for me to write female characters.)

For my x reader fans, I give Saphyre ZERO physical descriptions. The only thing that is every lightly mentioned is piercings and tattoos which, to be honest, most of us already have or want to have. There are no specific descriptions of the clothes she wears, besides button-up tops or low plunging necklines. There’s a sweater or two in there as well.

Hoping I can find the best of both worlds here.

Being a newer fan, I’ve done as much research and character analysis I can handle to make everyone as canon as possible. Though, there will be some small headcanons that I can only hope aren’t too controversial. Some of these things are simply my opinion of what characters would do with certain relationships, whether they be romantic, platonic, or family.

This fic will be mostly revolving around the JayVik storyline, so hopefully I didn’t fuck it up too much. If you hate gullible puppy Jayce then look away. And Viktor is NOT twinkified here, I made sure to keep his sass and charm for us real ones. He is also portrayed as asexual here (not completely ace, just on the spectrum) to give it more flavor.

So, yes, there is smut in this work– only ONE chapter. Not to mention the heavy petting and makeout sessions here and there.

Just a forewarning, this story is entirely from Saphyre’s POV, so some of the opinions she has on certain characters WILL NOT match up with my personal opinions. I can admit, there’s some hate against Mel and Silco but that’s from her view of them.

Though, there are a ton of ACAB and “eat the rich” ideals here and those 100% match my views. Because…duh.

At the time of posting this first chapter, I just finished writing Act 3 and we’re sitting at a total of around 55k words so far. Reading this is not for the weak. I’m assuming by the end of this, it’ll be close to 150-200k words. So if you love reading BOOKS, here you go!

If I have the motivation after all of this is over, I may write some standalone oneshots for my people who need it one and done. I see you. Me too.

I’ve put so much love, care and thought into my writing, so if you have any words of support or ideas for Acts 4-6, I’d love to hear them. God knows I need them.

Creating this has been an absolute JOURNEY so I hope everyone follows along and can enjoy it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it so far. It’s taken me almost an entire month of sitting in front of my laptop, slaving over these two gay men so it better be good.

I have no set uploading schedule since my timeline for working on the individual chapters can be a bit unpredictable, but I’m depending on a new post every two weeks AT MOST. So, bookmark this to stay updated if you enjoy it so far!

Lots and lots of love,

0josephinejoestar0

Chapter Text

“Are you sure you’ll be okay going on your own?”

Jayce adjusts his weight to the side, placing a hand on his hip with an incredulous expression on his face. Looking at him, it was quite obvious that he was capable of handling himself, but Zaunite’s weren’t privy to seeing an overzealous topsider on their turf. He could try to dress down, in the least.

To be fair, this isn’t his first time going to the undercity and it certainly won’t be his last.

“Saphyre, I’ll be fine,” He sighs, studying your face for a moment. “I’m just grabbing some tools. I’ll be back before the end of the day.” He assures as your eyes roll over in your skull, a small scoff puffing from your lips.

You didn’t miss the way he had shoved his pocket knife into his front pocket earlier, though. 

“Don’t come complaining to me when you get lost or jumped,” You huff out a laugh, turning to the mirror on the wall to roll up the sleeves of your shirt. Mr. Kiramman had requested you at their residence this morning, wanting another portrait of him and Casssandra. It was a wonder you had finally vacated one of their many spare bedrooms after all of those years– almost every square inch of wall was covered in your paintings by the time you were 20. Now, the Kiramman’s only invited you over to catch up on things.

Growing up in the undercity had its perks; you had memorized every street and alleyway into an elaborate map in your mind, you knew (almost) everyone and could handle yourself pretty damn well down there. 

Jayce…not so much.

“Whatever you say, Queen of Zaun.” He snickers, giving you a final smile before disappearing through the front door.

His funeral.

After knowing Jayce for over 6 years, logically you know he’d be fine. Come back in one piece? Hard to say.

Both of you had just turned 18 when you met, fresh-faced and excited to give to the world– him, an engineer and you, an artist. You had only come to Piltover 2 years prior, Tobias finding you on the street during one year’s Progress Day, selling your art. You thanked your lucky stars everyday that he was able to see your potential then. A 16 year old girl who had spent months creating and compiling all of her art, a girl who spent hours that morning doing anything she could to look presentable top-side.

Cassandra didn’t love you at first.

The thought of bringing some dirty, sick Zaunite into their home while raising their 7 year old daughter was not appealing, to say the least. You couldn’t blame her. As soon as you passed through the threshold of the Kiramman estate, you fell into a flurry of coughing, having to be taken to their family doctor to breathe properly again. But, you grew on her. Like always.

Then, they caught their eyes on Jayce Talis. House Talis was only known for their invention of the pocket wrench but he was an upcoming engineer with his goals set to reach the sky. Who couldn’t see the potential in him?

You were supposed to be the one who was sponsored to join the Academy, but engineering was the fastest growing economy and they’d be fools not to invest in the boy. The grudge you held against him for months did not go unnoticed. Nor did the way the Kiramman’s advertised him as their “golden child”, not even Caitlyn, for Gods' sake.

Still, the sky was your limit, too. You’d be damned if you couldn’t make it as an artist.

Tobias was the one to push for your place at the Academy in the arts department. At your back, like always.

Sharing an apartment with Jayce was a little…unruly at first. Different departments, different needs and yet, it made the most sense. Put the two little Kiramman proteges together, why not? You’d be lying if you said he didn’t take up half of the damn place; tools, papers and books scattered on every surface. You were able to keep your belongings confined to your own room. Good lighting, a spot for your easel and a place to dry out your sculptures was all you really needed. As your studies progressed, though, the space did begin to feel somewhat cramped. Who cared if a couple of sculptures found their way into the living room?

Jayce didn’t mind, though, he never did. He never seemed to complain or whine about losing wall space or not having room to place his book down on the coffee table. If anything, he was invested in your studies. ‘What are you painting? Are you going to add highlights there? Where did that piece on the counter go? I liked looking at it.'

A charmer as always.

If there was anyone who could grow on anyone, it's Jayce Talis.

After knowing the man for 6 years, he’d become your best friend– the only person to take their time to truly get to know you.

Hell, maybe you even liked him a little.

You stare into the mirror a moment longer, eyes flicking down to the scar crawling up your chest. You clasp together another button hastily, breath stuttering in the slightest at the sight. People’s eyes were already drawn there, best not to give them another reason to look.

Ignoring the ache in your chest, you grab your can of tobacco and pipe.

…

“Eyes on me, Tobias,” You huff out a laugh as he turns to Cassandra, going on about some dramatic story that happened the previous night.

“What, I can’t admire my wife?” His arm squeezes around her waist, eyes unwilling to leave her too quickly. The man was nothing if not absolutely devoted to the woman.

You shake your head at his antics for a moment, flicking your brush against the palette to collect a new color. “Not when I’m trying to get your eye color right.” Not that it really mattered, you had practically memorized their every feature by now. Still, his eyes drew back to yours, not without noticing the careless smile carved on your lips.

“What has you so happy today?” He questions playfully with that tone. You know, the one where you can sense someone’s love sickness and can’t help but want to tease them.

Your smile turns to a close-lipped one, attempting to hide your expression as you step behind your canvas. “I can’t just smile? I mean, it’s a beautiful day and I’m painting my favorite people–”

“Oh, I didn’t know Jayce was here.” Cassandra teases, looking around the room to really sell the point.

You bite down on your lip to suppress a tiny giggle, pressing a dot of paint to the canvas where the highlights of Tobias’s eyes are. You poke your head out from the side of your easel, “I’m just happy.” They keep the teasing glint in their eyes, but seem to be satisfied by your assurances. 

Was it really that obvious?

A comfortable silence falls upon the room, the soft patter of servant’s footsteps echoing throughout the foyer. Silence wasn’t what you preferred to work in, but the Kiramman’s weren’t exactly the music type. You swore the piano that sat in the corner of the foyer was just for show.

“Saphyre, I have a buyer in Noxus who is looking to commission a portrait from you–”

A large boom explodes from outside the estate, loud enough that it seems only a few blocks away. The sound startles your hand, paint streaking down the center of the canvas where your nerves had led it astray.

“Shit– what was that?” You immediately turn to the front door as if you were expecting the source of the explosion to come right through the entryway. You quickly look back at the couple, confused and frightened expressions that you were sure matched your own spread across their faces. By now, everyone was coming down the main staircase, flocking to every window to get a glimpse. You were quick to drop everything and beeline to the front door, several pairs of footsteps in your stead. When you step out into the main courtyard, a cloud of smoke is billowing in the sky a few blocks away– just as you had thought. Wait, isn’t that…?

“Councilor Kiramman!” Suddenly, an enforcer was pushing through the front gates, rushing past your confused state to stop in front of the couple. “The explosion came from the Talis residence!”

Your heart drops like a 10 ton brick in your chest.

“What– my apartment?” You practically shout, whirling around to the enforcer with wide eyes.

Did someone break in? Was it Jayce? Is he okay?

The enforcer nods. “The outer wall imploded, there’s already a team–”

You’re running down the street before anyone could take in another breath.

All of your belongings and work, Jayce’s work…

You had been advised by many medical professionals to not partake in too much physical activity, but as you’re running and pushing past people on the streets, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your apartment blew up, for fuck’s sake. Your lungs are on fire, prickling against your ribs with every heave of air. Every breath is like a stab in the chest, but your legs won’t stop moving.

A sizeable crowd had gathered around the entrance to the building, a line of enforcers already there to hold them at bay. You clumsily shove your way to the front, being met with a wall of blue. 

“Please, that’s my apartment, you have to let me in,” You plead with the man, big-chested and stone-faced. He sure had the look for being an officer.

He stands his ground, straightening his spine as if you posed a threat to him. “The building is too unstable, we can’t let anyone through.” His words are cut and dry, just like every other enforcer you’d encountered. Pigs.

Out of the corner of your vision, Jayce appears from the doors, Caitlyn and another officer at his sides to keep him stable. “Jay!” Without another thought, you sidestep the man, rushing to the two with a hand already outstretched to cup his face. Jayce’s eyes flutter to meet yours when the warmth of your hand meets his cheek, watching as your gaze hesitates before flitting to Caitlyn.

“Are you okay? What happened? What are you doing here?” The questions fly from your lips like vomit, your heart pounding against your aching chest.

His hand clasps around yours, guiding it back down to your side with a lingering hold. “Someone broke in. I don’t know what’s happening, but I think they took the–”

“Sir, we need to clear the area. Do you need medical attention?” The enforcer steps into the conversation, already ushering you behind the boundary. The three of you follow his steps, Jayce only shaking his head at the man before you’re swallowed up by the crowd once more.

He raises a hand to the back of his head, wincing when he pulls back to find blood pooling in his palm. “Jay, you’re bleeding–”

“I’m fine, Saph.” He wipes the crimson on the pant of his leg without sparing you a glance, averting his attention to the smoke erupting from the side of the building. There seems to be a permanent furrow to his brow, mouth hanging agape in shock like he was trying to catch flies.

You turn to Caitlyn, who stares up at the smoke with the same shocked expression. “What about you, Sprout? Are you broken?” Your hands are quick to find their place on both sides of her face, patting around to check her for any wounds. Your mind is going a million miles a minute, your breathing to match, and yet all you cared for was their wellbeing.

“I’m fine, I wasn’t near the blast,” She assures, allowing you to pull her tightly into your chest, palm pressed to the back of her head to keep her close.

“Scared the shit out of me…” You whisper into her hair, basking in the feeling of knowing they were alive.

And today was supposed to be a good day.

“Mr. Talis, Ms. Aristaun?” Just in time, no one other than Sheriff Grayson parts the crowd to grab your attention. “If we could have a word, please?” You release your grip on Caitlyn, eyes already focusing on Jayce when he turns to you.

Jayce straightens up, giving her a single nod in response. “Go home, tell your parents we’re okay.” You throw to Caitlyn with a squeeze of her hand.

…

Sat down on a stool in the corner of the lab, you stare at the open wall that had once held a portrait of Jayce. Blown to bits, you now stare at the open city.

“Lets go over it again,” Grayson’s shredded voice draws you out of your thoughts and you could see the frustration written all over Jayce’s body.

“You have to believe me, I didn’t do this.” He pleads, hands gesturing out in the air in some act of desperation. He always uses his hands when he talks while upset.

His body is slouched over in the chair in the opposite corner by the door, elbows resting on his knees and chest dipping forward. “Relax, kid. We know it was a break-in, but that doesn’t explain this,” Grayson motions her hand around the destroyed room. The entire outer wall is gone, concrete crumbling around the room, his entire workstation was in splinters, singed papers littering the floor. “There’s a lot of restricted items here, and I don’t see any permits.”

Even after living with the man for close to 6 years, you still know next to nothing about engineering, let alone what the hell he has been doing in the lab. The only thing you have been able to gather when he rambled on about his work was that he is trying to create magic- man-made magic.

You can’t forget the story he had told you of when he was a little boy. Stuck in a snow-storm, his mother had almost died from exposure when a strange man appeared and saved her life, eliminating the blizzard altogether. He wears the stone the man had given him on his wrist everyday like it’s a promise.

He know that magic existed and he will be the one to wield it.

“Jayce,” You hiss from the other side of the room, looking at him like an angry mother. If you would’ve known you lived with a criminal…Gods, you could use a smoke right about now.

He shoots you a frustrated look back before it melts into an apologetic one.

“You want to tell me how you got them?” An enforcer near the ledge begins to pick up scraps of his research, a sparkle of blue emanating from the area.

“Hey, hey! Be careful with that– please,” He practically shouts, nothing but anger written all over his face. You watch as officers pick apart what was left of the lab, shoving it into evidence boxes to be searched and, most likely, discarded. All you could do was sit and watch. Why are you here, anyway?

Well, it’s your apartment, too, you guess.

“I believe someone should’ve said that earlier,” This asshole. A man, no taller than you, had been lingering around the edges of the room, dressed to the nines and inspecting every inch of the chalkboard. He looks out of place in his vest and dress pants. Even his cane shouted, ‘I’m too good to be here!’ “What happened here?” 

The man turns back to the middle of the room as Jayce’s head falls into his hand, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Science, I guess?”

“Last time I checked, science didn’t require illegal equipment.” Grayson quips back, not even bothering to try and pay attention to the clipboard in her hands, anymore.

“Nor was this authorized by the Academy.” Gods, who shit in this guy’s breakfast this morning? “Who authorized your research?”

You scoff. Lord knows no one would dare to entertain this kind of research, we’re talking about magic here. The Arcane was somewhat shunned in Piltover, never talked about, never looked into. It was too dangerous. Obviously.

Jayce sighs but keeps his head down as the man approaches. “It was an independent study– who are you, anyway?” Great question. Shouldn’t Heimerdinger be here?

“I’m assistant to the Dean of the Academy,” He looks around the room nonchalantly. “Who it may serve you to remember is the head of the Council.” Oh. No wonder he acts like he has a stick up his ass. “He sent me here to ensure that anything dangerous is removed safely. Which, according to my list, includes both of you.” Yeah, definitely would’ve preferred Heimerdinger over this Grade-A asshole.

“What? How am I dangerous?” Jayce perks up then, shooting up in his chair while you gape at the conversation. Both of you?

You’re quick to stand up from your stool, holding a hand out to give your case. “I’m not even a part of his research–” The man slowly turns his gaze to you, unimpressed and unbothered by your presence. Maybe staying out of it was better, after all.

He drew his eyes back to Jayce, shrugging his shoulders like this was another day at the office. “Eh, that’s for the Council to decide.”

Then, Grayson reappears, handcuffs open and ready at her side.

A beautiful day, huh?

…

Trapped in a holding cell in the capitol building with your best friend wasn’t the worst situation you’d been in.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Moonlight streams down from outside the window, illuminating Jayce in its white glow from where he sits on the makeshift bunk. He leans forward, staring down at the stone on his wristband, its reflection dancing across the walls as he twists his wrist.

“Thinking about how they’re going to throw me in Stillwater.” He sighs heavily, hand raking over his face to rub the frustration from his eyes. Like that would help.

It didn’t seem very fair, it’s not like someone died. So what your apartment blew up, it was your apartment. Really, they should be searching for the people who broke in, not throwing an aspiring engineer and his artist best friend in a damn holding cell.

You adjust your position on the bench a few feet away, resting your cheek on the ball of your fist. “They can’t do that, you’re Jayce Talis.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means that you’re the Kiramman’s golden boy,” You explain with a shrug, grasping at strings to attempt to get him out of his own hole. “You’re kind-hearted and bright and couldn’t even hurt a fly if you tried.” You tack on with a little laugh, feeling just a bit lighter when a small smile creeps up on his face.

“You’re stupid,” He laughs a little, straightening up to lean back against the wall, a glint to his eyes once more.

How he shines in the moonlight.

“No, seriously! Maybe we can talk to Cassandra, get her to speak up for you–”

The sound of the metal lock on the door turning over interrupts your sound, the door swinging open to reveal the cold, concrete hallway. You can see the shadow of someone approaching the door and the both of you stand up with a glance to one another. Was it time already?

Then, the furry head of Professor Heimerdinger peeks out from the doorway, his body tipping sideways from the weight of his head. Little as he is, he still has an imposing aura about him.

“Imprisonment. What a curious principle.” The professor looks around the room as if you weren’t even there, seemingly satisfied with going on his tangent. “We confine the physical body, yet the mind is still free. I do love a good conundrum.” He smiles then, reaching your eyes and wandering over to the bench, inspecting the leftover food you had been given.

“I remember the first time I saw you at the Academy. You reminded me of myself: a scientist ready to forge a new vector of experimentation.” As great as Heimerdinger is, you haven’t a clue what the hell he’s talking about and from the look on Jayce's face, he doesn’t know either.

Does the professor even know what he’s talking about?

“But sometimes we venture too far. No great science should ever put lives in danger.” Ah, there it is. The point.

Jayce stares down at the floor, that same scowl reappearing. After you had worked so hard?

“Be honest, now. What manner of inquiry was this?”

You truly can’t envy Jayce at the moment. How do you, a student, explain to the head of the Academy and leader of the Council that you discovered a way to create magic? The most straightforward way you could, it seems.

“Professor Heimerdinger, I…” Hazel eyes meet yours and you offer a nod of encouragement. “I believe I’ve discovered something truly incredible. A way to harness magic through science.” You love the look he gets in his eye when he talks about his work, the way he brightens and speaks with determination. It looks good on him.

“Magic?”

“Yes!”

“No.”

“...No?"

“The Arcane is dangerous, Jayce.” Heimerdinger’s expression drops as he makes his way to Jayce’s feet, tiny hands clasped behind his back. “A force of nature. Science cannot control it.” 

And that’s the reason he had been keeping his research to himself– doubt. You couldn’t blame others, though, magic is something that has never been tampered with and probably for good reason, too. Leave it up to Jayce to reach for the stars.

“But, maybe it can. I’m close to a breakthrough, I know it.” Jayce turns from Heimerdinger, placing his elbow on his arm to stroke his chin, ‘Like a true mad-scientist', you always say.

The professor seems to study him for a moment, mustache twitching upon his lip. “How old are you, my boy?”

“I’m…I’m twenty-four.”

“Ah. Well I am now three hundred and seven years old,” Heimerdinger points out. He’s older than Piltover itself. “All my life, I’ve pursued the mysteries of science, only to discover some are better left unsolved.” He slowly makes his way back to the steel door, “This, I’m afraid, is one of them.”

Jayce turns to you with a mix of shock and despair, taking a step forward to continue to argue his case to the professor.

“You will be released tonight,” Heimerdinger points a finger at you, then, knocking back on the door for the guard to open. “As nothing more than a roommate, you will be vanquished of all responsibility.” You take a moment to blink a few times, slightly shell shocked that the man had actually spoken to you.

“But–” You offer with a motion to your friend.

“Own your mistakes before the Council, admit your work was dangerous, but speak nothing of magic.” A glare from Jayce. “Do that and I theorize you’ll get away with, um, how do you say, a slap on the wrist.” Heimerdinger’s expression is neutral but his words are final. Always have been, always will be.

The door swings open to reveal the same cold hallway and the professor waves a hand in front of him. “After you, my dear.”

Finally picking your jaw up from the floor, you slowly turn to Jayce, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “I’ll talk to Casssandra. We’ll get you out of this.” You whisper into the space of his neck, only letting go when he gives you a squeeze around the waist.

Maybe you could recruit Caitlyn to help convince her mother.

…

“Hey, Jay.” Your gentle voice breaks through the night air, the soft sway of the wind carrying the sound to Jayce’s ears. He stands near the ledge of the broken wall, the city lights reflecting off of his olive skin. You knew he’d come here to lament and think. Years of research and work thrown into the bowl over a simple break-in.

You watch as his shoulders jump in the slightest, his body swaying away from the wall to turn over his shoulder. “Hey,” The greeting comes off as a relieved sigh from his lips, the furrow in his brow relaxing. A nervous hand comes up to scratch at the back of his neck, sauntering over to the middle of the room to meet you halfway. “What are you doing here?”

“Was looking for you,” You offer a small smile, your hands clasping together in front of you– to keep them from fidgeting too much. 

He chuffs out a small laugh, looking down at your feet like they’d help him navigate the conversation. “How’d you know?”

You shrug, meeting his eyes in the moonlight. “I know you.” He nods.

The two of you stare at each other for a moment, a heavy silence sitting upon your shoulders. He had been expelled from the Academy, research set to be destroyed the next day. He’d have to go back and live with his mother and figure out another path for his life. At least it’s not Stillwater.

“I’m sorry about what happened,” You start and he sighs, swiveling around to face the opening again, pacing back toward the ledge. “We can find another apartment somewhere and you’ll find something else to be passionate about–”

“That was my entire life’s work, Saph.” He lowers himself down on the edge, dangling his legs in the open air.

“I know.”

“Ever since I was a little boy, all I ever wanted to do was help people. This was my one chance to do it right…but they took it.” You could see his chest cave in on itself as he slouches over and you slowly follow his steps to hunker down next to him. “All of those years, for nothing.” He mutters to himself, thumb rubbing over the stone on his wrist absentmindedly.

You wish you could tell him you know exactly how he was feeling, truly. All you had lost was a few pieces of artwork and sculptures, things that could be replaced easily.

You sigh, leaning your temple on the top of his shoulder. “We could just say fuck it and go to the undercity. No laws to stop you from doing your research there,” You muse, half-joking. If Jayce wanted to uproot his life to chase a dream, you’d gladly follow him. Zaun is still your home.

He huffs out a chuckle, his hand forgetting the stone to intertwine with one of yours. Its large, calloused surface wraps around yours tightly and you give it a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah, right.” He leans his head on yours and the both of you look upon the cityscape; yellow stars of light lining the streets, the last trickles of people making their way home from work. It really is a nice night, considering the circumstances.

His thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your palm and your eyes slowly flutter closed, fully taking in the moment. You’re surrounded by him; his stupidly expensive cologne, the warmth that constantly reverberates from his body. Jayce has always been a tactile person, and you aren’t in any position to deny his physical affections, no matter how big or small. You’ve had your fair share of long hugs, held a hand or two but nothing that felt this intimate.

“Don’t let them extinguish your light, Jay.”

You feel his gaze on you, then, being met with a look in his hazel eyes you had never seen before. Something… soft.

Your faces are so close that you can feel his breath fanning across your lips, your noses almost brushing together. His eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment and your gut churns.

Every touch, every subtle flirt, every heated stare flashes through your mind and you can feel the heat crawling up your neck. Did he only want to kiss you because of how distraught he is? Would this change your friendship? Would he regret it? Would you?

“We…should get some sleep– preferably somewhere with all four walls.” You chide as you pull away from him with a shy, but embarrassed smile. Yet, your eyes still lingered on his lips.

You watch as he blinks away the moment, backing up into his own space and removing his hand from yours. You almost whine at the loss of his touch. He clears his throat. “Yeah,” He offers a small smile. “You go ahead. I’m going to stay here for a bit longer.”

You hesitate to nod in acceptance, immediately regretting everything you had done in that moment. Why didn’t you kiss him?

“Don’t stay out too late, mad scientist.” You hum the nickname with a quick pass of your hand on his upper back, before standing up from the ledge. 

You linger by the doorway for a moment, turning back to find him in the same position, an envelope sticking out of his back pocket with a ‘JT ’ seal. You rub over the scarred skin on your diaphragm as you walk down the hallway, reaching into your pocket for your pipe.

…

The next day, you went back to the apartment to gather what was left of your belongings, bringing it back to the Kiramman estate for the time being. That spare bedroom ‘still had your name on it' by Tobias’s words and you really had nowhere else to stay. What was being back home for a few weeks?

You had just finished packing tobacco into your pipe when Caitlyn appeared in your doorway.

“You just can't stay away, huh?” She teases, watching as your hand fell from where it had been rubbing over your scar.

You scoff a little, shoving the pipe in your pocket before averting your attention to where she stood with her hands on her hips. “Can’t have all of these bedrooms for no reason.” You shoot back and she laughs with that rare smile you barely saw these days. The pressure of finally growing up and following in her parents footsteps was really starting to weigh on her. How you wanted to scream at the couple to let the poor girl do what she wants for once.

Caitlyn plops down on the foot of your bed, hands falling in her lap. “Seems like I’ve got my sleepover buddy back, then.” She has that mischievous glint in her eyes, the same one a younger sister gives to her older sister when planning a scheme. You’d never forget all of the shit you’d gotten into with her when you were younger, sneaking out in the middle of the night. Was she 10 at the time? Sure. But, that never stopped anyone from having a good time.

“I’m getting too old for all of that ‘teenage rebellion’,” You sigh, hunching over and holding a hand to your back playfully, stumbling over to the bed like an old woman. She continues to laugh just as you hoped and you sink down beside her.

“We can probably get away with much more, now that you’re an adult.” She shrugs.

You fall onto your back, peeking up at her over your chest. “You’re basically an adult now, too. Get into your own shenanigans.” You nudge her with your thigh and she collapses back next to you, following your gaze to the ceiling.

Your eyes rove over the constellations painted onto the speckled surface, bright stars standing out against the dark blue galaxy.

“I heard about Jayce.” A frown forms on your mouth. “I was thinking that maybe he could stay here with us, just until he’s back on his feet.”

You jeer with a smile and incredulous look at her, “Your mother barely let me stay here, no way she’ll take in another orphan.” Caitlyn chuckles a little with a nod as you chuff, tucking a hand behind your head.

Your laughs die down as you continue to stare at the ceiling, the same affirmations you had told him swirling through your mind. “He’s staying with his mom, for the time being. We’ll figure it out, we always do.”

“Saphyre!”

Jayce’s voice files down the hallway and you sit up on your elbows as he appears in the doorway, huffing like he had just run a marathon to get here. He sure as hell looks like it, sweat dripping down his forehead.

“It worked.” The smile on his face is almost blinding, joy radiating off of him like he was the sun itself.

You fully sit up now, dragging yourself back down to the edge of the bed. “What do you mean?”

“The gemstones, we figured it out! They work!” He inches further into the room with his excitement, curved over like he’s ready to pounce on you any moment. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, you always compared him to that of a dog.

“What do you mean? I thought all of that stuff got destroyed?” 

“It’s a long story– I can’t explain it, you just have to see yourself.” He’s directly in front of you, now, holding onto the outsides of your arms and you can feel him vibrating. Yeah, just like an excited dog.

Caitlyn appears at your side with a jump, “I want to come!”

“Academy members only, Sprout.” Jayce is already pulling you from the room, giving the girl nothing more than a second glance. You give her an apologetic, ‘I’ll be back'  look before being dragged through the doorway.

Jayce rushes the two of you down the streets, easily navigating you through crowds of people as you approach the Academy building. You practically trip over your own feet every couple of minutes, trying to control the breaths that are struggling from your lungs while he regurgitates the story of the previous night.

“So he just randomly showed up right after I left to take back everything the Council decided on?” You were barely clinging onto the story at this point, the words spilling out of his mouth almost intelligible from how excited he was. 

“Yes! We spent the whole night going over my research notes and broke into Heimerdinger’s lab–”

“Wait, you broke into his lab? ” 

“Well, the crazy thing is that we almost got caught– and he couldn’t even care after seeing what the gemstones can do!”

Jayce guides you through the main lobby of the Academy, quickly pulling you into one of the elevators and rushedly pressing the buttons. You lean back against the wall, coughing to finally give yourself a moment to breathe and process. Your hand itched to reach up and rub at your diaphragm.

Jayce’s eyes were stuck on the digital screen next to the doors as it ticked up the floors. “So what can they do, exactly?” You question and his gaze leaps back to you, still as excited as ever.

“That’s why I brought you here, I have to show you.”

The elevator dings and the doors screech open.

Heimerdinger’s lab is a lot…bigger than you had expected, although, you’re not entirely sure what you did expect. Maybe a big astronomy dome at the top of a wizard’s tower. The high ceiling was close enough, you guess.

“Okay– how much do you trust me?” Jayce guides you by your hands as he backpedals into the room, stopping when you’ve reached the center.

You eye the workstation behind him and the contraption on it– an open exoskeleton with rotating limbs, a small blue stone trapped in the middle chamber. “With my life…? Jay, is this dangerous?” 

The man from the apartment before, the Assistant to the Dean, eyes you suspiciously from the side of the room, Jayce’s research notes open and perched in one of his hands.

“No, I swear. I’ve done it three times this morning already.” He smiles wildly, letting go of your hands to turn to the machine. Your eyes wander around the room as he works, taking in your steel surroundings. Several unfinished machines have been pushed to the floor to make room for Jayce’s work, papers and books strewn about in the same fashion they had been back in your apartment.

You can feel the man’s eyes on you as you look around, a charged silence hanging in the room, unbeknownst to your best friend. You try to offer him a small smile, but you’re met with a scowl.

“Jayce, our work is not some parlor trick to parade about,” His accent is thick and elegant, matching his charmingly eloquent demeanor.

“She deserves to see this, Viktor, she’s been with me throughout this entire process,” Jayce barely looks up from the machine, where he’s adjusting the outer arms, cross examining the runes to match the ones in his notes.

Ah. Viktor. Quite fitting.

You watch as Viktor’s tongue swipes over his teeth under his lips, jaw setting into place as he studies you, almost as if he was evaluating your worthiness. “Fine, but I should not have to remind you that this is not a circus.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jayce groans with a slight roll to his eyes that you can’t help but chuckle at. “Hit the lights for me, won’t you?” 

Viktor's eyes turn over in his own head in return, going over to switch on the lights with only a small huff. Jayce pulls you by the elbow to the table, hovering his hand over a dial wired to the machine. “This is going to blow your mind, trust me.” His smile is infectious in the low light.

He slowly turns the dial, ramping up the speed as the arms begin to spin around the main chamber. The gemstone’s light begins to grow around the room as it shakes vigorously, releasing itself from the confines of its perch to float upward. You swallow thickly, glancing at your friend when he turns the dial more, the glowing blue light drowning out all other colors. The smile on his face remains, though.

The arms are rotating faster than your eyes can follow and Jayce grabs onto one of your hands. “Hold on tight.”

Suddenly, a burst of blue blinds you and you feel…weightless. It takes a few long moments before you regain your sight, but almost jump out of your skin when you do. The floor of the lab is much farther away than the ceiling and you’re suspended in the air, a portal of runes floating above your head. Jayce’s eyes are completely fixed on your every expression as you process; shock, confusion, disbelief, joy.

He squeezes your hand when your smile takes over your face.

“Jay, you fucking did it!” You exclaim, reaching out for his other hand as you swirl in the air, various pieces of machinery and tools floating along with you.

He looks to the stone in the center of the rune, “Viktor figured that if we turned the resonance all the way up, it would stabilize itself.” Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Viktor smirk from where he’s holding onto the lab door.

“Does that mean you get to stay at the Academy?”

He nods happily, pulling you closer when your body threatens to glide away. “Viktor says they might give us our own lab.”

Viktor says, huh?

…

Thankfully, due to Jayce’s lucky circumstances, you were allowed to move back into your apartment after they rebuilt the wall. With his own workspace now, the old lab was turned into your own art studio. That didn’t stop his work from finding its way home, though.

You had laid out a chaise in the corner of the studio for when he’d insist on spending time with you while you worked. That was the only time you really saw him, nowadays.

The apartment feels… lonely, now.

Making dinner for one and cleaning up only after yourself was more than unfamiliar but a part of your daily routine, by now. For the past few months, Jayce had practically holed himself up at the Academy, constantly accompanied by Viktor.

Were you jealous? Your pride only allowed you to admit it a little. For the last 6 years, you’d spent almost every waking second with the man, but now a stranger comes and steals your home from you.

This place isn't home, Jayce is.

The sonograph is constantly playing to fill in the silence that he had left– the quiet hum of his voice now replaced with the same songs over and over. You're surprised your discs hadn’t burned yet. When you finish a painting or sculpture, his expected praises replace the voice in your head. Even small things like the house settling sounds like him shuffling around in the kitchen in the early morning.

Some nights, he would come home, though, and those moments are the ones you cherishe. He’d bump his hip into yours to push you out of his way in the kitchen, insisting that you sit down and he prepare dinner instead. He’d sing along to your songs like normal, leaning over the counter to stare at where you’d be sitting on the couch, reading.

“How has your day been?” He rests his elbows on the countertop, ignoring the way smoke was beginning to fill the kitchen. Your eyes slowly broke away from the pages, immediately noticing the foggy quality of the room. Pushing one of your pieces to the side to make room for your book on the coffee table, you stood to open one of the windows.

A cool breeze filtered in the room, the suffocating heat slowly filtering out. “Fine. Been working on a self portrait,” You sigh, finding your place on a stool at the counter across from him.

“Staring at yourself in a mirror all day? Sounds fun,” He jokes, his pearly teeth somehow more blinding than the kitchen lights. His smile stays the same but his eyes are always tired. You assume he was only able to properly rest here.

“Trust me, I loathe it just as much as you think.” Your own reflection was practically burned into the back of your eyelids every time you blinked, an unfamiliar scowl plastered on your lips. An artist’s worst subject was always themselves. Or that was your opinion, anyway.

It’s not as if you were dissatisfied by your physical appearance, but after staring so long, your features began to swirl and shift in disturbing ways. The scar on your lip and eyebrow seemed deeper than ever, an uncomfortable furrow stuck in your brows.

Hopefully the painting didn’t reflect that.

“I can’t be that bad, if anything, you’re easy to look at.”

“Okay, Mr. Charmer,” You roll off his comment with a disbelieving scoff and grin, leaning your arms onto the surface in front of you. “What has you so busy, then?”

Jayce clicks his teeth and stands up from his position to turn over his shoulder, paying attention to the food steaming in a pot on the stove. “Nothing interesting, just science stuff,” He mumbles and confusion takes over your face. You spent your entire friendship listening to him ramble on about his studies, what makes him think you didn’t care all of a sudden?

“It has to be more interesting than staring at yourself all day.” You muse with a soft lilt, watching his shoulders bow over the stovetop. “Just because we don’t see each other as often, doesn’t mean that I stopped caring,  Jay.” You add gently.

He taps the wooden spoon off on the side of the pot, turning around to lean his hip on the oven handle. He sighs. “We’re still trying to grasp the full potential of it. The polarity of the stone allows objects to pass through it at a quicker rate, so I’m thinking it could help with travel. Exportation of goods, or something alike.”

“See, that’s exciting!” You smile and it’s infectious to him. His posture straightens and you can see his chest swell once more. 

“It’s a longshot and we’re nowhere near that stage, but I’ve always been a dreamer.” He tilts his head to the side shyly, reaching into one of the cabinets for two bowls.

You watch as he spoons the steaming stew into each of the dishes. “It would make Piltover the epicenter of trade,” Your bowl clinks on the counter in front of you, a spoon following suit. “And you, famous.” You point out with a wiggle of your eyebrows. Not like he wasn’t already famous at the Academy. Breaking into Heimerdinger’s lab to prove the existence of man-made magic can make one quite the celebrity.

Jayce leans back over his own bowl on the counter, dipping his spoon into the brown mix. “I’m not doing this to just become famous, Saph,”

“I know, you want to help people and you will. The side effect is just also becoming rich and famous.” He shakes his head at your words, scooping stew into his mouth through a small laugh. 

You bask in the moment before reaching for your own food.

Dinner flows with easy conversation, the both of you falling back into your own flow within each other. Jayce decides to call it an early night as you’re cleaning up the dishes.

“You should come and swing by the lab tomorrow…see our work.” He leans against the wall into the hallway, giving you a longing look from across the room. Soft, hazel eyes that seem to look at you as if you were the one to hang in the stars in the night sky.

You quickly dry your hands off on a towel, swinging the fabric over your shoulder before your hands fall upon your hips. “Depends. Does Viktor still hate me?”

He scoffs with a grin, eyes never escaping your stare. “He never hated you, he just isn’t a people person.”

You squint your eyes suspiciously at him, looking for his lie to keep your doubts at bay. It’s nowhere to be seen, surprisingly. “Fine, I’ll swing by on my lunch break.” If things went south, you’d have the excuse of getting back to work on your portrait.

“Okay,” He lights up, canines poking out in his smile, sparkling in the soft light. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“Goodnight, Jay.” You nod him off down the hallway with a gentle curve of your lips.

“Goodnight, Saph.”

Your music continues to play quietly from the sonograph, now almost overwhelming from how much Jayce’s presence had taken over the space.

…

The steel door of the lab towers above you, Jayce’s name plaque plastered below Viktor’s on the wall next to it. You never go to the engineering wing at the Academy and you get the sense it is much less welcoming than the arts section. The place was like a metal box, bland, winding hallways creating a confusing labyrinth. Lord knows how many times you had to stop and ask for directions from professors or drained students. Did anyone feel joy here?

You could hear Jayce’s voice behind the door, droning on about something to what sounded like empty air. Then you heard the small hum of Viktor. 

The doctor is in.

Your knuckles sting after rapping on the door so harshly, reaching up to adjust your bag crossed over your body. Jayce is the one to open the door, thank the Gods.

“Saph, I was just talking about you,” He smiles brightly, swinging open the door to offer you in with a wave. The room looks just the same as Heimerdinger’s lab, maybe just a tad smaller. Viktor is seated in a stool to the side, goggles resting on his forehead as he studies the ramblings scribbled across a chalkboard.

“Speak of the devil,” He flatlines, reaching over to his cane to stand up, traversing the room to find his place at one of the workbenches. ‘Doesn’t hate you' your ass.

Jayce pays the man no attention as he picks up a stub of chalk, finding his place back at the board. “We were just drawing up runes for Hextech.”

“Hextech?”

“Yeah. The shape of the casing for the stone has to be a hexagon, so… Hextech.” He motions of the pieces of metal scattered on a table to the side, different shapes carved into the surfaces.

Viktor scoffs from his place at the bench, settling his cane against it. “Not my first choice of name.”

“Arcanatech doesn’t have much of a ring to it, now does it?”

The shorter man huffs with a roll of his eyes, turning back to his work with that familiar pout to his lips. You can’t help but laugh at the interaction.

“So what’s this stuff, then? To help keep the stone stabilized?” The pads of your fingers rove over the carvings on the scraps of metal, the surface cold and smooth against your skin. You're trying to sound at least somewhat intelligent.

“What is your field of study, Saphyre Aristaun?” Viktor doesn’t look up from his work when he addresses you, but it startles you nonetheless. You didn’t know he even knew your name. Your full name, at that.

Your hands flinch away from the metal as you turn toward him, being met with his slender back, the fabric of his vest wrapped tightly around his torso. “The arts.” It wasn’t engineering or science, but still had its own standing in society. Who was going to paint all of the rich couples of Piltover, or make their precious statues?

“Ah,” He hums back simply.

“I know that just because I don’t work in the sciences, you think I’m not–”

“Intelligent? I never said that.” His chin turns over his shoulder, a neutral look on his face.

Oh.

The words were stolen right from your throat, the oxygen from your lungs when he gives you what might be…a compliment?

“I just wasn’t sure what an artist was doing with an engineer, that’s all.” He shrugs a bit, all the malice that seemed to be building between the two of you completely gone. Maybe he genuinely wasn’t much of a people person, like Jayce said. Maybe he just needed a chance to get to know you and you, him.

“Uh,” You stammer over your words, hands clasped around the strap of your bag as you glance to Jayce, who’s watching the scene with a pleasant expression. “I was taken in by the Kiramman’s when I was younger, they sponsored Jayce not long after.”

Viktor turns around from the bench, now, leaning back against the surface with a hand perched below his chin. He actually looked quite amicable when he wasn’t scowling at everyone– thin face and features chiseled like they had been hand carved from stone. “You’re a Zaunite then, I assume?”

“The Fissures. Was able to move my way up in the world, though. I went to the inner city when I was a teenager.” That move was one of the easiest decisions you’d made in your life, right next to moving to the upper city.

“What’s your condition, then?” His eyes flicker down to the scar on your chest, peeking out from the opening of your buttoned shirt. You hope he was looking there for that reason.

Your bones ache under your skin and you shift uneasily under his stare, hands sinking back down to your sides to clench your fists. You released them when your knuckles turned white. “Pneumoconiosis fungus. Emphysema from all the smoking.”

“You smoke, even with your disease?”

“Life’s short.” You shrug.

Jayce’s hand found its place on your lower back, head dipping over your shoulder in the slightest. “Viktor is from Zaun, too.”

Viktor motions to his cane with his head, giving his own shrug. “An autoimmune disease.”

You can’t help but cringe in the slightest. Almost every kid you knew at the time had some kind of disability– from malnutrition, lack of vitamins, The Grey, you name it, they had it. You were honestly lucky getting off with what you did. “I can’t say I envy you.”

“Neither can I envy you. Though, I wouldn’t be partaking in an activity that would worsen my condition.” Your pipe felt like a brick in your pocket. Every person you had come across made sure to deepen your guilt about smoking with every chance they got. Your disease was degenerative anyway, who cared if you had some bad habits? A lot of people, apparently.

“I’m surprised the two of you haven’t met until now.” Jayce muses as his hand falls from your back. An average Piltovian assumption: everyone Zaunite knew each other. A classist thought, really. Unless your name was associated with Vander or Silco, or you owned your own shop, you were just another nameless face on the street. You were only an orphan back then, stirring up trouble to make her ends meet.

Viktor sighs like he has had this conversation millions of instances before, reaching for his cane to make his way toward the metal runes on the table behind you. “Do you know everyone in Piltover?”

Jayce’s face scrunches up in confusion, his gaze following the other man as he moves. “No, but–”

“So, why would we know each other?” Viktor didn’t seem like one to bother making eye contact while conversing, whatever conversation he was having on the back burner of his brain while still somehow being active.

“I just thought maybe your paths had crossed before,” The taller man trails off with a pout, his bottom lip sticking out in the slightest. He’s the cutest like this.

Guiding your bag off of your shoulder, you reach for a stool, rolling it next to Viktor before setting the bag at your feet. “When did you move to the upper city?”

“When I was 19.”

“And you just…entered the Academy? I mean, it’s not everyday that you see Zaunite 'trash'  becoming Assistant to the Dean of the Academy.” You hold up air quotations, even when his gaze stays fixed on the runes. 

He cracks open a book just above the pile of metal, tracing his fingers over the pencil markings as he compares the shapes to the physical pieces in front of him. “A letter of recommendation isn’t always required to enter. Competency gets you places.” He hums with the small showings of a proud smirk.

He isn’t an asshole, he just knows he’s smart.

“I guess Heimerdinger’s right hand should match his smarts.” Your hands fold into your lap as you peer at his work. He returns your comment with a shortened laugh, just loud enough for your ears to catch.

You can’t feel Jayce’s gaze as you continue to talk with Viktor, too entrapped in the conversation to notice the smile that continues to grow on his face. It isn’t long before he’s falling back into the groove of his own work, joining in when he sees fit.

You stay way past your lunch break.

…

Your pencil scribbled over the page in the white light of the lab, the side of your palm shiny with graphite as you rubbed your way through the shadows of Viktor’s face. Many other angles and expressions of him were filtered across the paper, Jayce’s face littered across the page previous. Drawing the shorter man’s smile was beginning to frustrate you. He never did it enough for you to get a clear memory and there were only so many jokes you could tell before he would begin to become suspicious.

You suppose you could just ask him to pose for you.

Better not.

“How did you get the scar on your chest, Saphyre?” The way your name flows off of Viktor’s tongue draws a shiver down your spine every time, his accent enunciating the vowels in a way that is gratifying. He’s resting on the couch Jayce had finally dragged in a month ago (for late nights), book forgotten on the arm, cheek rested against his closed fist. He’d been staring, but so had you. In shifts of when the other wasn’t, you assume.

You look up from your paper for the twentieth time that hour, finding that his eyes don’t flit away when you meet them. “It's not much of an interesting story,” Your fingers graze over the raised skin as you return to the page, carving out the light’s reflection in his eyes.

“And yet, I’m still asking.”

His eyebrows are lifted, expectant of you. And how can you say no to a face like that?

“My heart’s stopped more than a few times in my life, so some of it is permanent bruising from resuscitation attempts.” You swore you still had broken ribs from all the pressure and pounding on the cage. “Used to be a little thief, though. Robbed a cobbler once and I took a sledgehammer straight to the sternum. That was about the time that the Kiramman’s found me.”

Ah, yes. A teenager struggling for air on the streets of Piltover, trying to sell her art through gasping breaths. You hoped that whatever money you made would pay for your shattered sternum.

“Luckily, nothing pierced my lungs, so I only have The Grey to blame for my fucked up health.” You laugh it off a bit, not bothered by the trauma, anymore. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but giggle when you imagined the way you must’ve flown through the air after taking that hammer to the chest.

“What about the ones on your face?”

You point to your lip, feeling the indent in the skin. “Beaten with a rock,” Your finger trails up to the missing hairs streaking through your eyebrow. “Knife fight.”

Viktor’s expression remains the same throughout, neutral with a glint of curiosity in his eyes, now sated by the new information.

“Perhaps I should consider myself lucky, escaping in one piece.”

Your shoulders shrug to your ears for a moment, graphite smudging on your jaw when your head shifts to rest against your hand. “I hung around the wrong crowd for too long, it's my own fault.”

All of the kids you stuck with during your formative years knew they could have been doing something better with their lives, but their survival skills were that born of violence. How do you escape a cycle with no one there to help lift you to your feet? Being a teenager would never be a part of your proudest moments in life but it got you here, you survived.

“Some of the violence does seem unnecessary, though.” Viktor grips his cane, using it as a small support to stand up, eyes already focused on the sketches below you. As he comes close, you draw away from the table, turning the book for him to get a better look.

His fingers graze over the paper, pushing away particles of graphite dust that soak into his skin. “You make me look… pleasant.” A smile grows on his face– the same one you had been struggling to recreate, but a disbelieving furrow stays in his brow. His eyes flicker all over the page as he takes in every line and shadow.

“I just draw what I see,” You muse gently, absorbing every small expression that flashes through him.

“I never thought I’d say this, but you’re quite good.”

You cross your arms with a quiet huff, the scowl on your face pulling a chuckle from him. 

“You don’t need someone like me to sing your praises, you should know you’re talented.” He hums back, his smile lingering as the pad of his thumb swipes away the graphite smudged on your jaw.

Though only a fleeting touch, the feeling burns on your skin, raw and unlike any other touch you had received before. Viktor never reaches out to others, only accepting the small affections others give him. A pat on the shoulder from Jayce, the gentle press of your thigh against his when you sit on the couch together. The more you observe, though, the more you realize the way he seems to straighten up at the feeling of another’s body touching his, the way his lips barely twitch up from their flat line.

You knew he was a big softy under all of that genius.

“Don’t worry, Jay’s sure to feed my ego every chance he gets,” You try to prevent the flush of your skin from crawling up your neck, breathing deeply to keep your heart from stuttering in your chest.

The feelings you possessed for both men were beginning to get a little…conflicting. Jayce was an openly affectionate person, both physically and verbally. He was always there to give you words of advice or praise, a squeeze to your hand, a kiss or two to your temple. The kisses were a new advancement and you refused to unpack it as anything other than platonic at the moment.

Viktor was different. Maybe not mysterious, but more reserved in the things he gave out to others. Affections were expressed in prolonged stares, small jokes and refusals to leave another’s side until they called it a night as well. 

And it wasn’t lost on you the way these same things were exchanged between them, too.

So how could it be anything more than platonic?

Well, Jayce wasn’t exactly kissing Viktor’s head, nor was Viktor caressing Jayce’s face.

Shit.

“I am convinced the majority of Jayce’s vocabulary is compiled of only compliments and praise,” He chides quietly, wiping his thumb on the corner of his vest as he finds his way back to the couch, sinking in to find his place in his book again.

As if on cue, Jayce pushes through the lab door, hand rubbing over his face with a stack of files in the other. “I’m going to call it a night, I’m dead on my feet.” He groans, slapping down the files on the workstation next to you. Your drawings catch his eye. “Hey, these are really good, Saph.” 

His calloused hands gather up your book to get a closer look, “You really captured his grimace,” Viktor sneers from the couch, buried in his readings but still in the conversation.

“He says I make him look quite pleasant, thank you very much.” You watch as hazel eyes latch onto the shorter man’s drawn smile, gaze softening. He lingers there for a moment, before lifting the corner to scour the previous page. He really lights up now.

“Is this really how you see us?” His fingers run over the page in the same fashion Viktor’s had– such tactile men.

“Well, yeah,” You nod shyly, remembering the pages upon pages that were filled with their faces in a sketchbook back home, sketches of Viktor’s lean build dressed formally-casual, the muscles of Jayce’s back as he made his way through the living room at night.

It’s always said that an artist’s biggest piece of inspiration is their lover. Their muse. 

It had become second nature to draw them by now, your wrist habitually carving out their features, even when you didn’t mean to. Jayce’s strong brow bone, or Viktor’s beauty mark upon his lip.

Your friend’s stare at the book continues and you break him out of his reverie by taking it from his hands, snapping it shut and tucking it into your bag. “Let’s get home, mad scientists. I have a sculpting course first thing in the morning.” You hear Viktor close his own book as you gather your bag onto your shoulder, neither of the other two grabbing any belongings as you round the table. Both of them would be back in only a matter of a few hours, anyway.

…

You tap the ashes from the pot of your pipe at the front of your building, thanking Jayce for holding the door as you pass him to begin climbing the stairs. You had dropped off Viktor a couple of blocks back, feeling a little envious of how close he lived to the laboratories, though it made sense.

You fish your keys out of your bag, turning open the lock to push open the door and immediately reach for the lightswitch next to the frame. The main living space lights up and your body sags in exhaustion. There was something about stepping through the threshold that made your feet drag sluggishly against the floorboards.

Dropping your bag on the kitchen counter, you hear Jayce kick off his shoes at the door. “I am drained.” You groan out, shrugging off your coat to hang on the rack above the man’s shoes. 

He goes straight to the cabinets, grabbing a glass to fill up at the tap. “You should get some sleep, have to be up early.” You watch his adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallows down the glass, releasing his breath with a sigh before setting the cup upside down in the sink.

“What are you going to do?”

“Same as you,” He hums, wrapping one of his arms around your hip for a passing moment as his lips press into your hair.

There it is again.

He only gets a few steps away when you throw your fucks to the wall.

“Why do you do that?”

He turns over his shoulder with a perplexed look, eyelids sagging down from how tired he is. “Do what?”

“Kiss my head like that. If you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask.” Your chin lowers to your chest, eyes staring at your wiggling feet and fidgeting hands. The silence that hangs in the room is deafening, the chirp of crickets outside louder than the blood rushing through your ears.

You watch as his own socked feet enter your field of view, the gentle press of his knuckle under your chin lifting your head back up. 

“So…can I kiss you?”

It’s exactly how it was back then, his breath on your lips, noses brushing against each other. Only now, you can’t escape. Don’t want to.

The nod you give him is just enough for him to have his answer, your gazes locking in on each other’s lips. His are much softer than you had ever imagined, bottom lip plush and slotting between your own perfectly. You’re too rigid to move for a moment, only having the will to press back against him but he urges you on when he releases your lips, only to capture them again. His hand finds its way to your jaw, digits barely brushing against the hairs on the back of your neck.

His other arm wraps around your waist so naturally and you place your palms against his chest, feeling the way his heart hammers on your hand.

The moment feels like it lasts forever, skin prickling with every drop of joy your body can muster. His hold on you is so tight that you feel as if you might disappear into thin air if he lets go.

When you inevitably pull away, he rests his forehead against yours, eyes fluttering shut as he absorbs the feeling of your shared breaths. The thumb stroking across your cheek coaxes your eyes shut as well, the divine feeling of whatever… this is lulling you into a sense of peace. You feel like you’re floating, just like you had been in the lab all of those months ago.

“Why didn’t you let me kiss you back then?” The low gravel of his voice breaks through your head, gentle enough to keep the serene moment.

His eyes are on you now, the flecks of green in his irises so obvious to you up close. “I was scared.”

“Never be.” He assures, nudging his nose against yours. “Not with me.” 

He pulls you into another, shorter kiss, your body almost going limp in his strong hold.

“Whatever you say, Jay.”

Chapter Text

“Happy Progress Day, Men of Progress.” You announce your presence as you approach Jayce and Viktor from behind, setting a bag of pastries on the work table between them before placing your hands on each of their shoulders. Pulling them close, you squish their bodies against your sides. “All eyes are on you today, boys.”

Viktors squirms under your touch a bit but allows the affection, Jayce welcoming you with an arm around your waist. “Have an entire shipment of portraits moving out to Noxus thanks to you,” You hum contentedly, letting them go to find your place on the couch to the side. It has certainly seen better days, by now.

The Hexgates are their biggest accomplishment so far, goods booming in and out of the city like nobody's business. The trade market is thriving and, in return, so is your work. Cities across the ocean are reaching out for sculptures and paintings to line their estate walls, statues to display in city squares. Thanks to Hextech, you’re somewhat of a celebrity.

Jayce’s face is plastered on practically every building in Piltover, Viktor’s influence flowing through the halls of the Academy. The success rate of mechanics coming from the engineering department is through the roof like an industrial revolution.

It’s easy to say the last 8 years have been treating you well.

Is the ache in your chest constant now? Sure, but at least you stopped smoking.

Watching your boys thrive in life gave you the will to save your own.

“What are the plans for today? People started asking me where the two of you were on the way here,” You laugh a little, watching as Jayce digs into the bag of pastries, pulling out a croissant.

“Hide away from the public for as long as possible,” Viktor mumbles, tilting his head into the palm of his hand as he studies a stack of files.

Jayce chuckles through the food in his mouth, swiveling in his stool to face you. “I’ve already done my fair share of public appearances this morning with the Kiramman’s.” With how frustrated they seem about the occasion, they’re still dressed their best. Jayce in his layered vest and long sleeve, a crimson tie wrapped around his neck and Viktor in his brown, striped button-up that contrasted against his fair skin. Rolling up the sleeves may not be the most formal style, but it's Viktor.

It’s better than the Academy uniforms.

“Professor Heimerdinger is going to stop by soon to look at the new devices,” Jayce’s eyes flick over to the Atlas Gauntlets and Hex Claw. You used to know someone who had a pair of gauntlets like that. “I’m hoping we can present them when I give the speech later tonight.” He takes a nonchalant bite of his croissant and you shoot up on the couch.

“You’re going to be giving the Heimerdinger speech tonight?”

He shrugs smugly.

“Yes, the one he should be memorizing right about now.” Viktor deadpans, rolling his eyes over when crumbs fall down the taller man’s chest.

“I can worry about that later, we have a presentation to prepare for.” Jayce shoves the remainder of the croissant into his mouth, swiping his hands together to rid of the remaining flakes of bread. Standing from his place at the bench, he strides over to the locker adjacent to the chalkboard, beginning to shed his outer layers to replace them with his work coat.

You try not to stare when his toned back is revealed to you.

“Do you think Heimerdinger will go for it?” You stand from the couch to approach where Viktor is seated, watching as he pops open the case of purified crystals. You reach out to take one before he can stop you, rolling the stone between your fingers.

He plucks it from your hands with a reprimanding look. “Who knows, he was hesitant about the Hexgates themselves.” He coughs through the end of his sentence, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to cover his mouth. You offer a small rub between his shoulder blades.

“We’ve proved him wrong every single time, so far.” Jayce turns from the open locker, closing the buttons of his shirt, thank the Gods. He has no business walking around shirtless as much as he does. “This is just the next big step.”

“Giving Hextech to the people is a huge step.” You point out, hand continuing to linger on Viktor’s back, even when his breathing evens out.

Tucking the hem of his shirt into his pants, the taller man makes his way towards the two of you to place his hand on the back of Viktor's neck, fingers gently threading through his dark strands. “Couldn’t have done it without this one, here.” He murmurs slowly, that longing look in his eye.

Something has changed over the past 8 years, affection and soft touches being exchanged between the three of you easily, now. While it doesn't come as naturally to the older man to dish it out, the acceptance rate is higher than ever. Long stares turned into occasional, but rare, forehead touches, sitting on the couch together means that you can lay your head on his shoulder if you so please. He's a little more vocal about his praises, sometimes even whining when your hand loses its place on his back.

Jayce, however, is just as tactile as ever. Holding your pinky or coming up to hug you from behind to nuzzle into the back of your head. The kisses increased, though in private.

You had your fair share of…midnight escapades with him, as well. Viktor isn't that kind of man, but you feel no need to complain. What he offers is more than enough.

They are easy lovers– if that’s what you would call this. Nothing has ever been made official, or even addressed out loud, at that. The topic seems too fragile to talk about, but it’s a mutual understanding. You don’t need a label to enjoy the arrangement.

“Shut it,” Viktor grumbles, elbowing the taller man’s ribs as he tucks the handkerchief back into his vest pocket. “Get the anvil.”

Jayce only laughs him off before giving him a final squeeze on the neck, disappearing behind you.

Your hand traces up his back to play with the curls at the back of his head. “Someone’s grumpy.”

“Stressed, more like.” Viktor clicks the case of purified crystals shut, leaning back into your touch in the slightest. He’s like a house cat, disgruntled but melting with the lightest scratch behind his ear. “Don’t need everyone’s eyes on me.”

You hum as your blunt nails mindlessly run across his scalp. “Everyone will leave you alone by tomorrow.”

“Not soon enough.”

You chuckle quietly, shaking your head as you look down at his pouting face. Must be so exhausting being an introvert.

“I’m going to grab some lunch, you two want anything?” Finally diverting your attention from Viktor, you go over to the couch to lift your bag onto your shoulder, hand soothing over the middle of your chest when a zing of pain shoots through your ribcage.

The shorter man motions to the bag of pastries.

“Just ate that croissant.” Jayce adjusts the anvil in its place in the middle of the room, straightening back up as you pass by. 

“I’ll be back, then.” Your hand lands on the front of his shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to the apple of his cheek before making your way to the door.

…

You tap your foot impatiently on the floor, checking your watch for the third time that minute. Jayce was supposed to be here 10 minutes ago.

You can feel the anxiety radiating off of Viktor from where he sits, head leaning into the hands perched upon his cane. Stagehands have been zipping in and out every couple of seconds, popping in to search for the man of the hour like he’ll suddenly appear out of thin air.

In his stress, Viktor breaks into a sudden coughing fit and your lungs burn for him.

Then you hear rushed footsteps approaching from behind you.

“Where were you?” The older man is the first to notice Jayce’s appearance, voice soft and eyes brightening at the sight of him. He lifts himself from his seated position, leaning the majority of his weight onto his cane. “They were asking if I could do the address.”

Jayce immediately goes to his side to wrap an arm around him, a mug of tea with his own face on it clasped in his free hand. You follow close behind in his shadow. “Was seeking out some advice from Mel.”

“Medarda?” You question a little bitterly, suppressing a scowl.

Mel Medarda, the youngest woman on the Council. She’s a purely diplomatic piece of the puzzle, her roots coming from the militaristic Noxus. An artist, like you and even though she isn’t one to sell her work, she’s fierce competition. 

In many ways other than one.

She was the one to stab her hooks into Jayce and Viktor’s work originally, requesting the stabilized crystals, the Hexgates. 

You aren’t much of the jealous type, but you’ve seen the way she looks at Jayce. Yearning. Hungry.

Who could blame you if your opinions on the woman are a little…sour?

“We need someone from the Council on our side if we want to debut these new inventions,” The taller man shrugs, giving you a quick glance before focusing back on Viktor. “You should come up with me. We’re partners.”

“No, no. Not in front of all of them…” The older man’s voice has a shy lilt to it, completely uncomfortable by even the idea of standing on that stage. “You…have your speech prepared?”

You stand just a step behind Viktor, looking over his shoulder as Jayce hums in affirmation, stepping toward the opening of the wing. Just then, Cassandra Kiramman’s voice becomes clearer.

“An inspiration to Piltover’s future and that of all humanity.” Jayce stares at the clipboard in his hands, a deep breath flowing through his chest. “Please join me in welcoming to the stage…” He looks up into the bright stage lights. “Jayce Talis.”

The crowd erupts into cheers as he turns to look at the two of you, a smile spread across his cleanly shaven face. “Guess it’s time,” With a final sip of his tea, he slams it down on a piece of equipment next to him, striding up the stairs to the stage.

You watch as he enters the light, hand reaching up to wave at the roaring crowd. Oh, how he seems to shine up there, glowing like that’s where he was always meant to be.

“Of all people, Mel–” You start with a jeer before Viktor stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“It’s only for Hextech.”

Yeah, for Hextech.

“Uh, good evening.” He leans into the microphones, that same smile permanently stuck to his face. “I know many of you didn’t expect to see me here today. And believe me, I’m just as shocked as you are.” The crowd applauds and Viktor sucks in a sharp breath as Jayce sets his clipboard down on the podium. At his side, you take his hand into yours, squeezing his slender digits.

“My family and I are simple people. In our factory, we make hammers. They were probably used to cut the stones you’re standing on right now.”

Jayce’s eyes are fixed on the front row and you assume he’s looking at his mother. How proud she must be of her boy. 

“No one in my life expected very much of me.” Glancing to the side, you see Viktor’s grin begin to grow, yellow eyes lighting up in joy. Hand in hand, you both stand there in pride. “And that is precisely what makes this moment so extraordinary.”

Jayce points up at the skylight– at the Hexgates towering above the city. “A few years ago, the Hexgates opened their ports to the world and made Piltover prosper beyond anything we could have ever imagined.”

The crowd immediately begins to applaud at his words, some even getting up from their seats to whoop at the accomplishment. The Hexgates truly had changed everyone’s world.

“But…we’re not done yet.” Viktor lets go of your hand to reach out to a crank on the wall, ready to rotate it about and display the stabilized Hextech crystal to the entire city. The enthusiasm on his face is palpable, like a little boy reaching for his dreams. Really, that’s what he is.

“This year, we’ve created something new for you.” You watch as his eyes lock onto another target in the front row, his confidence beginning to waver. “Something that…um…” In his anxiety, Jayce looks toward the wings and you give him a reassuring smile, waving your hands to usher him on.

His gaze falls back to the clipboard below him. “That we will share with you…when the time is right.”

Viktor’s grip on the lever loosens before dropping his hand entirely, both of you focusing on the other man’s figure on stage. You hear the crowd murmur their own grievances at the statement.

“Things that will bring an end to your hardships.” He steps out from behind the podium, moving further downstage as if to address the audience directly– from his heart, now. “Whether you’re the scion of our high houses, or an honest laborer from the underground.”

“We vow to keep moving forward, for we are the City of Progress. And our future is bright.” Cheers ramp up in pitch as he goes along, the confidence exuberating from his body once more. He revels in the light of the attention, flashes of color filtering in from the skylights as fireworks explode outside of the building.

As he’s waving at the crowd, you watch as his expression falls for a moment, eyes following something that drifts off to the side of the auditorium. He’s quick to find his smile once more.

Who is he looking at?

After another minute of taking in the crowd’s energy, he retrieves his clipboard from the podium before bounding down the stairs to the wings. You quickly pull him into your chest, his head resting against yours as he holds you.

“That was great, Jay.”

“Why didn’t you introduce the gemstone?” Viktor stands to the side of you with a scowl.

Jayce pulls away from you slightly, looking at the man with a bit of a bewildered expression, mouth gaping open and closed like a fish. “Well, you heard what Heimerdinger said back at the lab, there's still some screws to tighten. If you could’ve seen the way he was staring at me–”

“When has that ever stopped us?”

“He’s our boss, Viktor. It’s not exactly easy to go against his word in front of a crowd of hundreds of people.” Jayce’s voice tightens in a way that makes you shrink in his arms, feeling the argument before it could start.

Viktor shifts his weight against his cane, flickering his eyes around in disbelief as he takes in a breath to continue. 

“Hey, today’s been a good day. You can talk about it later, not here.” Your gaze flits around as stagehands appear through the curtains, gathering their equipment from backstage. They both concede with a sigh as a mucus-filled cough startles from your throat, stepping away from them to hide in the crook of your elbow.

The younger man is the first to offer his handkerchief and you take it gratefully as his hand pets over the back of your hair. You ball up the fabric in your fist before anyone can catch a glimpse of the small flecks of blood.

“C’mon, Vik, let’s get some dinner, hm?” You offer your free hand out to him, shifting under his hesitant glare.

His face relaxes as he accepts your hand. “Jayce is paying.”

The other man huffs out a small laugh as he follows the two of you through the wings, his taller stature bringing comfort and security to your mind. “Whatever you say, V.”

…

Morning light trickles in through the window at the head of the room, illuminating the vibrant splashes of paint covering the walls and floor. Even the floor? In the middle of the room, on top of the anvil sits a running model of a ‘Progress Day ’ airship where the gemstone had been.

Some spots look as if a paintball had been thrown at the wall, while others had childish scribbles– doodles of stars or explosions.

The lab is an absolute wreck. Carts and stools are turned on their sides, papers scattered on the floor like there had been a struggle, drawers left open after being ransacked.

The fire at the tents outside of the venue last night.

It had all been a ruse to break into the laboratory, rob them of their research like those kids did all of those years ago.

“Fuck,” You stand stock still in the doorway as both of the boys push passed you, Jayce rushing toward the anvil covered in pink paint. He takes the buzzing airship into his hands, tightening his grip as if he would crush it between his fist.

Viktor is already hunched over his workstation, flitting through papers and drawers to find his notes. Only half of the pages were there. “They took our research notes.”

“And the gemstone.” Jayce grits out, throwing the model to the ground with a harsh crash.

Your heart races in your chest, the ruminating ache in your lungs feeling like it’s coming from your very soul. “One of the gemstones.” Jayce had taken the case of the rest of the fortified crystals home with him last night, as some random act of precaution. Seemed like his gut was right.

“Damnit!” The taller man swipes a hand through his gelled hair, effectively messing up the style completely. “I have to tell Heimerdinger,” His jaw sets angrily, not bothering to spend another second in his trashed lab. His shoulder almost checks into yours as he passes.

“Jay–” He’s gone before you can even breathe the word.

Viktor slams one of the drawers shut with a frustrated grunt, sinking down into the only stool that hadn’t been knocked over. “I knew something like this would happen.” He huffs, a round of coughing interrupting his sentence. 

Your bag slips off of your shoulder to the floor with a resounding thud, giving the mess around you a distasteful glare. With every intake of air, a stab of pain shoots through your chest and you roughly rub your knuckles against your sternum. You can feel the cold chill of a breeze sweeping through the room, the smell of concrete rushing through your senses. It’s almost as if you can see the crumbling of your apartment wall, smoke still lingering in the air in front of you.

All of the slamming and shouting combined creates an uneasy fog in your brain, breaths coming out in stuttering gasps. It wasn’t even your work, why would you be freaking out?

“Vik.” You mumble quietly, pressing down on the quickened rise and fall of your chest.

You watch as his forehead falls against his cane, eyes focused at the mess around his feet. “If this falls into the wrong hands–”

“Vik. ” You bite out a little louder, fingers trembling as you clutch the fabric of your shirt. The lights are beginning to feel all too bright, throat threatening to close with every gasp you suck in.

Finally, Viktor notices your rigid state, almost dropping his cane as he stumbles in front of you, his slender hand hesitating around your shoulder.. You’re sure your gaze is far away, stuck on the image of something that isn’t even there. He pulls your hand away from your chest when your nails begin to dig into your skin

“Saphyre,” He offers softly, attempting to meet your eyes to pull you back to him. This isn’t the first time either of them have witnessed one of your breakdowns– if that’s what you should call it. You weren’t sure if there was an actual word for it. Anxiety attack, was it?

“You need to slow your breathing, you’ll pass out at this rate.” His own hand replaces yours on your sternum, the pounding of your heart racing against his palm. “Breathe with me.” Your eyes finally flutter to his, worried orbs staring back with a distressed tilt to his brows. 

It feels as if your consciousness had been thrusted back into your body, choking on your own throat as he attempts to guide your breaths to match his. He sucks air into his nose, holding it for a moment before slowly releasing it through his mouth.

You follow his movements for a few breaths, feeling your heart calm down to a slower, more manageable rate. “There you go.” His voice is soothing to your racing mind, the wheeze in your chest quieting to a small squeak. You don’t know how long the moment lasts before you relax your weight against him.

Your forehead leans into his, a nimble hand finding its place on the nape of your neck to hold you close. “We cannot have you dying just yet. Jayce would kill me.” He murmurs into you, a joking lilt to his voice, despite the situation. A small puff of air rushes out of your nose in the tiniest laugh.

The soft patter of footsteps approach the still ajar door and Viktor steps away as if he had been burned, clearing his throat to lean back into his cane. You reel from the rejection of his touch, chin awkwardly falling to your chest as a shuddering breath racks through you. Better collect yourself before the Dean of the Academy can see you like this– not that he cares much for you, anyway.

“--papers are gone, they turned the place inside out.” You turn around at the sound of Jayce’s voice, watching Heimerdinger’s head pace around the room with a gaping mouth. Only then do you feel the lingering wetness on your cheek and you quickly wipe it away with the heel of your palm.

“Saph,” Jayce comes to you with a gentle whisper, swiping the hair from your eyes with the pads of his fingers.

You try to shrug off his touch with a sway of your head, turning your chin over your shoulder. “I’m fine.” You should be fine, it isn’t even your situation to worry over. You can’t help but feel a little ridiculous, an embarrassed flush rising on your cheeks.

“We need to gather the Council.” The professor can’t draw his eyes away from the illustrations on the walls.

Jayce and Viktor share a look before the latter’s stare flickers to you momentarily, shifting away swiftly with regret. Jayce’s eyebrows furrow in concern as his hand traces down to rub at the apex of your shoulder.

…

“So, how are we doing, Saphyre?” Dr. Baur slides the door shut behind him, sauntering over to the cabinets to pluck out a pair of gloves.

As if in response, you dive into a coughing fit, rich and full of mucus. “Like I’m drowning,” You croak, massaging your knuckles into your sternum bone. The feeling makes you wince.

He grunts in response, continuing to file through various drawers and cabinets to pull out his tools– Betadine, Lidocaine, cathetar and tubing. You swing around the padded rest in front of you, leaning your elbows onto it.

“Hopefully this will help, then.” Rolling over his tray and stool to settle in behind you, you lift up your shirt to hang around your neck, attempting to fully relax. It never fails to be frightening, no matter how many times you sit in this very chair.

A cold cotton ball rolls around on the left side of your ribcage, Betadine rolling down your back into the gauze Baur holds below. “I’m still coughing up blood.” You chide quietly, chin perched upon your crossed forearms.

“Draining this fluid should give you room to breathe.” The cotton ball leaves your back and you hear him fiddle with his other instruments. “Small poke here,” He warns. “Have you been taking your medication?”

The chill of Lidocaine spreads over your ribcage and the sensation of his fingers slowly dissipates into the background. “Yeah.” You swallow.

You hear the small crinkle of the plastic bag. 

You brace for impact.

“The scar tissue in your lungs may be spreading. We should schedule you for another scan.” You can feel the pressure of the needle sliding between your ribs, the soft poke of it penetrating your lung. “Can you feel that?”

You push out a heavy breath as your forehead drops to your arms. “No.” It isn’t painful, but it definitely isn’t comfortable.

You know the drill by now, he’ll collect a sample of the fluid before draining it completely to be disposed of. The process never takes any longer than 15 minutes, but it’s excruciating, to say the least. 

“Any other symptoms I should know about?” The rubber of Baur’s gloves snaps off of his skin, their balled up form appearing in your vision as he tosses them into the bin. 

“Other than the wheeze and constant ache in my chest?” You reply sarcastically, bitterness lingering on your tongue. “No, nothing new.”

It probably wasn’t noteworthy to mention your episode this morning. Anxiety always enhances your symptoms.

He retrieves his clipboard from the counter, a cautious look to his face as he checks some boxes and dots some i’s. Maybe it isn’t all too fair to take out your frustrations on your doctor, but today has been nothing but stressful from the moment you stepped out of your apartment.

“Alright, I’ll send in August to monitor you for the time being.”

The door clicks shut and you’re left with your thoughts for a minute.

You wonder what Jayce is up to, if Viktor is with him. If they’re still in the meeting with the Council or in the process of cleaning up the lab. Maybe someone would do it for them.

With every exhale, fluid drains into a tube down your back.

You should just go home after this.

…

Your fingers stroke across the bandage on your back as you study the faces scratched into your sketchbook, wrist cramping from the awkward angle. Your eyes follow the strokes of graphite, swirling into the locks of Viktor’s hair.

Why did he push you away like that? Was he afraid of Heimerdinger, of what he would say? The professor isn’t one to meddle in anyone’s personal life, why would he care if Viktor got a little close?

All of the touches you share are in private usually, he isn’t a public display of affection kind of person. Who are you kidding, of course that’s the reason. He’s a complete introvert, disgusted by the idea of most people, in general.

Your fingers drag over a particularly sensitive spot and you finally call it quits, leaning back into the cushions. Still, you revel in the feeling of a light chest, the skin of your scar momentarily relaxed. Momentarily.

The slide of the lock opening has you looking up at the front door, watching as Jayce’s exhausted form steps into the entryway. “Welcome home.” You call out to him, sliding your sketchbook shut to set on the coffee table.

“Hey.” He replies with a sigh, kicking off his shoes by the door, as always.

“How did the meeting go?”

“Uh,” A hand rubs at the back of his neck, watching his feet as he steps into the living room to hunker down on the armchair across from you. “Quite interesting, to say the least.”

You remain silent to allow his explanation and he huffs, hand stroking over his chin thoughtfully. “They…are giving me a chair at the Council.”

“What?” You sit up, choking over your own disbelief.

“Yeah, I’m just as surprised as you.” He breaths out, sliding his palm up to rest on his cheek. The look on his face is incongruous, broken up about the whole situation.

“What does Viktor think of this?” Of course your mind thinks of him first, you can already see how Jayce is feeling.

“He knows I’m not particularly…ecstatic by the idea, but the Council already voted– unanimously. I can’t exactly refuse the position.”

You sigh, rubbing away the stressed crease in your forehead with your thumb. But he can refuse the position. The Council will live without House Talis as a chair if the man seems so opposed to it. “And who’s idea was this?”

“Mel.”

You scoff.

“Heimerdinger agreed, too.” He points out with a wave of his hand, exasperated by your reaction. “I’m willing to risk our enterprise for the sake of Piltover’s safety. Viktor and I are the only ones who have the knowledge to ensure the Hexgates’ security, to protect everyone’s investments.” 

“You sound just like her.” You flatline, crossing your arms over your chest in a disgruntled manner. You are exasperated. All the woman tries to do is dig her fingers into Jayce’s business, have her hand in whatever decision he makes. It isn’t his fault that he’s easily swayed. Or maybe it is.

Jayce leans over in the chair, placing his elbows on his knees to interlock his fingers, gaze fixed on the frustrated set of your jaw. “Look, it’s been a long day and I don’t want to argue over something that’s already said and done.”

You concede with a roll of your eyes, watching as he slinks from the chair to find his place kneeling at your feet. 

“You’re still my number one, it’s important to me that you know that.” He takes your hand in his calloused one, thumb gently tracing over your smooth skin.

Your body slackens at the image; the size of his hand overtaking yours, the puppy eyes he gives you from below. “I know.”

His lips press to the back of your palm, slow and saccharine like the motion was meant for your own lips. Despite everything, he still knows how to melt you into a puddle, devoid of any strain or tension.

“How was your appointment?”

His breath lingers on your knuckles and you fall limp against his touch, ignoring the slight sting where the needle poked into your ribcage. “Like normal. Should get the other one drained in a few days.”

He hums in response and a small silence falls over you.

“What happened at the lab while I was gone this morning?” He perks up, suddenly.

You shrug your shoulders. “Got a bit overwhelmed, I suppose.”

“I don’t blame you,” He tilts his head to the side to lay down in your lap, your fingers immediately finding their place in his hair to brush out the remainder of his gel. “I’m sure I didn’t make it any better by getting so angry.”

Your digits find a stubborn clump of gel in his hair and you begin to meticulously pull it apart, being sure to not pull on his roots too roughly. “A valid response, the whole thing is ridiculous.” The hairs begin to fall apart under your nails and you give them a final pass before moving to another spot on the crown of his head.

“Cait thinks it has to be the same people who have been causing trouble in the undercity recently.”

“How is she?” 

“Fine, just on house arrest.” He puffs out a quiet laugh, fingers stroking over the surface of your clothed thigh. “She’s driving herself crazy trying to link everything together, has a map on the floor of her bedroom and everything.”

You join in on his laugh. Sounds like Caitlyn. Once she hooks onto something, she won’t let go until she’s unraveled it completely. No wonder she became an enforcer in the first place.

Jayce’s chin turns upward to look at you, the soft light of the lamp reflecting in his hazel eyes in the prettiest fashion. Why does he have to be so beautiful? “That’s our Sprout.” 

He hums in response to you, eyes roving every feature on your face as you stare down at him.

A comfortable moment of silence passes, just gazing at each other.

“I want you to be my assistant.”

Assistant? 

“I’m basically already your assistant.” You chuff. Filing their notes, cleaning their equipment, an extra hand to give them their tools.

He shakes his head, sitting up once more to look at you properly. “No, like an actual job with pay. So you can have a real excuse to be with us in the lab, instead of claiming you’re ‘bored ’ and ‘have nothing to do'.” 

You ought to smack him upside his head. “Just say that you can’t get enough of me.” You murmur as you take his chin into your hand, lifting him up to meet your lips. The sensation never fails to run a chill down your spine, the small curve to your mouth melding into his own. He savors you with a fire behind his movements and you have to fight to tug his lips away.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He whispers against you, turning to your cheek to press kisses there, even trailing down your jaw to nose at your neck. You can’t help but giggle, hand reaching around to hold the back of his head close.

“You’re insatiable.”

“Only when it comes to you, baby.”

He continues to place kisses on the sensitive flesh of your neck and you purr under his affections, leaning forward on the couch to give him more leverage. The man might as well climb into your lap.

And that he does. 

“Aren’t I supposed to be the one sitting in your lap?” You chide as your arms wrap around his middle, the coil in your gut flashing hot when his labored breaths hit your ears, an undertone of a needy groan. “I always knew you were a princess.” You smile, sighing contentedly when he sucks on the spot below your ear.

“Shut it.” He bites back and if that doesn’t make you shiver.

His teeth latch onto your earlobe, tugging hard enough to coax a whine from your throat. “You’re almost sassier than Viktor.”

Finally, you pull a laugh from him, the noise hot and heavy against your mind. The curl of his lips press against yours once more, his smile infectious even when you can only feel it. “A formidable accomplishment, really.”

“Wish he was here to see you like this,” You mutter before he can steal your breath away.

“He only lives a few blocks from here.”

“And is surely in bed by now.” Your fingers trail down the collar of his shirt, nimbly beginning to unclasp the top buttons. “We can’t be missing him already, we just saw him today.” Olive skin is revealed to you, Jayce finding his place back on your neck to let you work.

His rough digits are already finding their way under your top, tickling the sensitive skin of your stomach to make you squirm. “You’re the one who brought him up.” He points out, hand tracing up to squeeze your breast.

Your spine arches against him, a mewl tumbling from your lips. “Touché.” 

In between kisses, he takes you by the waist to switch your places on the couch, able to fully discard your shirt. All of his buttons are released by now, his heaving chest glistening from the sweat he worked up. You’re both more than hungry, teeth practically clashing together as your tongues press into each other’s mouths, hips rocking back and forth upon his lap instinctively.

“I need you.” He pulls away to look at you with pleading eyes, a feral sparkle to them. 

“You already have me.”

An honest whine tears through his throat as he lifts the two of you from the couch, fumbling his way down the hall toward the bedrooms. 

Hopefully to yours. You have the nicer bed.

…

“Yesterday’s smuggling fiasco was nothing. These manifests are full of discrepancies, dating back months.” Jayce’s chin is hooked over your chin as you sort through the charts on your clipboard. His voice echoes throughout the dome of the Hexgates, beginning to pace back and forth upon the platform. 

Viktor stands at the railing, looking upon the workers as they switch out cylinders below. “This is a poor use of our time.” His head turns toward the two of you, the blue light accentuating the heavy bags under his eyes. Poor thing.

“I’m a Councilor now, Viktor.” The taller man stops in his tracks. “It’s my responsibility to make sure the Hexgates are safe and protected.”

You tuck your pen behind your ear. Here we go again.

“What about our pledge to save lives, for those in need? For the undercity?” Viktor’s fists are closed around the railing tightly, tone a little too rough for your liking. 

Jayce sighs. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t announce our other projects in my speech.” He steps toward the other man, arms reaching out in the slightest. “Soon, we can do everything–”

“Soon ? There are people who need our help now, Jayce.” Viktor turns from the open space with a wave in the air, an irritated frown plastered on his face.

“Vik,” You warn softly, giving him a pleading look that says, ‘Please, not here. ’ He turns away with a huff and you sigh, clipboard falling at your side. It’s been another long morning, to say the least.

The thud of boots approach from behind you on the runway and the Sheriff walks into view. You had almost forgotten that Jayce had requested for you to call on him. “You wanted to see me?” His helmet is tucked under his arm, back straight and proper as always.

Jayce swivels on the heel of his foot with a frustrated furrow to his brows, immediately approaching Marcus. “Have your people ever reviewed these logs?” The difference of the manner he speaks to Viktor and the enforcer is almost like night and day.

“Mr. Talis, I assure you–”

“Councilor. And the only assurance I need is that you will search and seize any unauthorized merchandise.” A little authoritarian there, Jay. “We’ve made a list of suspicious transactions.” 

Jayce gives you a glance, holding out his hand for the clipboard and you surrender it quickly, immediately stepping back into place with your hands clasped in front of you. This is not what you expected being his assistant would be like.

“With all due respect, Councilor, today’s your first day–”

“Second.”

“Right…” Marcus stammers under the taller man’s glare. “You sure you don’t want to confer with the other Councilors before–”

“This corruption runs deep, Sheriff.” Jesus, let him get a sentence in at least.

Jayce saunters over to the side of the platform, arms tucked behind his back assertively. “I intend to root it out.” The enforcer eyes glance around nervously– seems he’s a little out of his element here, not used to being talked down to so easily.

You can’t help but shift your weight uneasily too. Something has changed between last night and now, something clicked.

It’s kind of sexy.

“Have you made any progress with the stolen gemstones?”

Marcus watches as Jayce approaches again, nodding his head. “...Yes. Chief suspect is an undercity gang.”

You turn away from the conversation to face Viktor once more. That conversation is above your pay grade, surely. A guttural cough shoots through his chest and he latches onto the rail, leaning over the edge. Then, he gets stuck there, staring into the blue void below.

“Vik?” You come up behind him, hand pressing on the nape of his neck as his eyes lock onto the bottomless pit. Blood is dripping from his nose, smearing over his lips.

Your heart almost jumps out of your chest, the pen behind your ear clattering to the ground.

“Jayce,” You call out with urgency, not being able to swallow down the quiver in your voice. You note the crimson stain on the railing as Jayce rushes to the man’s other side.

“Viktor. You all right?” The worry line between Jayce’s eyebrows is back, his hand rubbing on the spot just above Viktor’s brace. The older man is warm to the touch, breaths tumbling out in quiet gasps as he gets lost in the open air.

It seems as if Jayce’s voice is the one to bring him back and he shakes away his stare, hair falling out of place on his forehead. “A…a headache. I just…” He quickly reaches for his cane, eyes a little shifty as your combined touches fall away. “I need to get to the lab.”

He’s off toward the runway before either of you can blink.

“Go with him.”

Your eyes don’t leave Viktor’s retreating form. “Already planned on it.”

You reach him only a few seconds after he takes off, his cane groaning under the speed at which it is forced to move. “We should get you to a doctor.”

“It’s nothing.” His steps are more sluggardly than usual— but still rushed, and you push down to urge to wrap an arm around his middle. There have been plenty of times where he has slapped you and Jayce with his cane to keep you from babying him. He’s a grown man, you get it.

“You coughed up blood, Viktor. That doesn’t seem like nothing–”

“I’m fine.” He lashes back with an angry sting to his words.

Your pace stutters beside him, a distasteful grimace spreading across your face. Neither of them ever speak to you like that.

You draw in a calming breath through your nose, releasing it as you catch up to his movements once more. Just let it go. He’ll go through the motions of his mood and relax soon enough, reach out to you if he feels the inclination to share. Only then will you be able to coerce him into seeking medical attention.

Stubborn bastard.

You step on the lift and press the button to take you to the bottom of the gates, the gears above you shaking alive as they guide you down. Both of your stares are anywhere but each other, the awkward silence louder than the creaking of metal.

Halfway down, you breathe in.

“I’ve been coughing blood, too.” Your nails pick at the skin around your cuticles, digging up clumps of dead skin. “Was too afraid to say anything because of what it’d mean, what my life would come to.”

If he wasn’t still standing next to you, you would think you’d been talking to empty space.

It takes him a long moment to answer.

“That wasn’t the first time. My chest burns more and more everyday.” You don’t look over at him, too scared of breaking the fragile connection you’re sharing. “I didn’t think I’d become such a spectacle.”

You hum in acknowledgement, watching as the bottom floor begins to approach your feet. “So, the moment gave you an epiphany?”

“Something like that.”

Despite the pain, your chest feels lighter and you gain the courage to look at his bowed form, sliding your fingers around his to lift his hand. You press a kiss to the tendons on the back of his palm. “Let’s get you to the lab, then.”

…

Viktor is at the workbench before you can even shut the door to the lab, reaching for a new blueprint to sketch out the Hexcore. After a few minutes of going between his notes and the blueprint, he calls you over to draw it out for him and you follow his direction on what to write. After 8 years of working with them, you’ve learned a thing or two about engineering.

Jayce walks in no more than fifteen minutes later.

It takes a moment for you to even realize he’s come in, head buried in research notes and the way Viktor swaps the runes in every direction like an endless puzzle. You feel the shift of the energy in the room, turning to find Jayce swiveling the mirror on its circular track to stop directly behind you. His eyes latch onto yours in the reflection.

“Finally, I was wondering when you’d show up.” You watch as he fiddles with his tie in the mirror, a concerned pout to his lip. “Viktor had a vision.”

“You had a vision?”

The older man’s grip adjusts on the controllers that are manipulating the runes. “What if we’ve been looking at it backwards?” 

You stand from your place next to Viktor, striding over to Jayce to hand him a stack of notes, the new blueprints on top. He peers down at it hesitantly.

“We’ve been trying to discover runes that invoke specific effects and then molding them to a useful function– tools, as you like to put it. But, but…” The runes begin to move quicker as you come back to stand at the man’s side. “If the legends are true, mages aren’t bound to single functions. It’s said the Arcane speaks through them.”

You can almost feel the ache Viktor will have in his back later, hunched over the machine like that.

“I’m still not following.” The taller man turns over his shoulder to approach the two of you, eyes focused on his partner instead of the core. 

“They think. They adapt.”

“You think Hextech can…learn?” Jayce has a curious glint in his eyes now, the science synapses in his brain firing off.

Viktor twists his wrists, forcing the controllers down into the workstation and a wind of pressure flows into your faces, light blasting through the space. Your hair whips out of place from the force of everything. “Jeez, Vik.”

“Are you sure this is safe?” Jayce points out nervously.

“Of course not.” The other man replies confidently and you can see Jayce’s face fall with an uneasy press to his brow bone.

Taking the papers from him, you place a hand to his chest, soft skin stroking over the velvet of his vest. He gives you that same worried gaze and you itch to smooth out the wrinkle in his forehead.

“Hey, Councilor Talis, come back to us. This is exciting stuff,” His eyes flutter shut and he leans into you in the slightest. “You’re stressing yourself out too much, it’s only your second day.” Your voice is like a gentle melody to his ears.

He shifts his weight on his feet, swiping a hair through his hair. “Sorry, have a lot going on this afternoon.”

You giggle quietly, adjusting his tie properly, like he had been attempting to earlier. “I know, I helped make your schedule. Never thought I’d ever find myself saying that.” That familiar grin returns to his face as he presses a kiss to your temple.

“Jayce, copy those equations on the board and bring them here, will you?” Viktor swivels around in his stool, sliding the goggles he’s wearing up onto his forehead. There are red lines on his cheekbones where the metal had been digging in.

Endearing little shit.

“Go on, mad scientist.” You hum with a pat to Jayce’s chest and he gives a single nod, flitting off to his new task. “I need to add some padding to those things.” You point out the markings on Viktor’s face and he rolls his eyes with a suppressed smirk.

…

Damn you for forgetting your house keys at the lab. Walking the darkened streets of Piltover at such a late hour is definitely not your first choice of activity, you should’ve been asleep hours ago. You thought that you could hold out and wait for Jayce to come home and let the both of you in, but that was over an hour ago. It has to be way past midnight, by now.

Usually, you’d be the first to know if he would be able to make it home that night, only ever skipping out on his bed to finish up some work in the laboratory. Last you heard, he was going to a show at the performing arts center.

At least Viktor had the decency to let you know he’d be staying the night there before you left. You just hope he’s asleep by now. 

You doubt it, though.

You can see exactly where you had left your keys on the workbench, taking them out of your bag to search for your compass– Viktor basically split his in half with the aggressive fashion in which he draws his circles. Maybe you should just keep them in your pocket from now on.

A cold chill runs under your coat as you step onto the lift. You’d been coughing ever since you entered the building, the long walk doing nothing to help your weak lungs. You’ll have to replace your handkerchief soon, this one’s becoming too stained with splotches of your blood.

You shove the fabric back into your pocket as you approach the lab door, gently creaking it to avoid disturbing the man inside if he is actually resting.

The sight before you has your body turning completely numb.

Viktor lay motionless on the floor in front of the Hexcore’s panel. His cane and several loose papers are strewn about next to him like he’d taken them with his body when he collapsed, stool thrown towards the middle of the room.

“Viktor!” Your voice trembles as you run to his side, dropping to your knees to try and scoop him to your chest. He’s deadweight in your arms, head lolling back on his shoulders with a pale tint to his skin– practically see through.

Your entire body is shaking, fighting to hold onto him tightly as your ear sinks down to hover over his parted lips, shallow breaths puffing against your skin. “It’s okay, Vik, you’re okay.” Your bottom lip warbles as a hand comes up to stroke across his hair, trying to reassure yourself more than him. 

As if he can hear you. Hopefully he can.

“C’mon,” You sniffle as a tear drops from your face to his cheekbone and you quickly wipe it away before wrapping your other arm under his knees, using all of your strength to lift him off of the floor.

“You’re supposed to outlive me, asshole.” You chuckle wetly, imagining he would be telling you that’s ‘an absolutely ridiculous thing to say’.

Your eyes flit over to the table, noticing the blood on its surface and the way the Hexcore is vibrating like an open electrical panel. Its runes are continuing to unravel and turn, zapping against the blood as if it’s reacting to the organic matter. You almost can’t tear your eyes away, the churning in your stomach making you feel nauseous.

Did the Hexcore do this?

You swallow down the bile rising up your throat, adjusting your grip on Viktor as your legs shake. You aren’t necessarily the strongest person, but you’re hoping pure adrenaline and spite will get you far enough to find some help.

Rushing out of the lab door, you call out into the empty hallway. “Help!” Your voice echoes off of the blank walls and the sigh that tears from your chest is full of stress, tears tumbling down your cheeks. “Anyone? I need some help, here!” You take off down the hallway, silently praying there’s someone who is just crazy enough to be pulling an all nighter.

A painful cough racks through you and you turn into your own shoulder, hoping there won’t be blood to spray on your clothes. That would be a little difficult to explain.

Something akin to a growl erupts from your lips and you steel yourself, continuing down the hallway.

“Fucking– help!" You call out with more desperation, arms beginning to shake under his weight. You probably wouldn’t have even made it out the door if this were Jayce. You’ll take a small win.

Just then, a boy who seems to be in his early 20’s– a face you’d never seen before, pops out from one of the doors, confusion written all over his face. A wave of relief flows through you. 

“He’s barely breathing. He needs medical assistance.” You plead, watching the boy fully emerge from the door with wide eyes. He stands there for a long moment, stuttering over a multitude of sounds. “He’s the Assistant to the Dean of the Academy for fuck’s sake, man! Go get a doctor!”

Noticing your crying, that seems to spur him into action. “O-okay…just stay here. I’ll get someone, okay?”

You give him a small nod before he’s off down the hallway, disappearing behind a corner.

Your lungs shake with a shuddering cough and you collapse against the wall, sliding both of your combined weight down to the ground. Your arm slides up to support Viktor’s neck, nudging his head to rest against your shoulder and you cradle him possessively. 

“You can’t die yet. Jayce will kill me.”

Your lips come down to gently press against his head before you replace them with your own forehead. You so rarely got the chance to do this. Your noses knocking together, eyes fluttering shut and he’d wrap a hand on the back of your neck to hold you close.

The only sign of life he gives off now is his shallow breaths hitting your cheeks.

Where the fuck is Jayce?

…

The sound of the door clicking open breaks you out of your unpleasant reverie, tearing your eyes from Viktor’s form on the bed to the open doorway.

“Baby–” You shoot up from your chair at Jayce’s voice, pushing against his chest to backpedal into the hallway. Your jaw sets roughly as you shut the door behind you, crossing your arms over your chest to glare up at him. The silence is almost deafening for a moment.

“Where were you?” You’re sure he can see the fire burning in your eyes, the frustrated flare to your nostrils.

“Is he okay?” He questions innocently.

Yeah, sure. Deflect. “He’s alive. Where were you?”

He can’t meet your eyes, even when standing directly in front of you. He shoves his hands into his front pockets and you can tell he’s picking at the lint there, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet as he comes up with his excuse. “The opera.”

“The entire night?”

“I went home.” A part of his cheek sucks in as he begins to chew on the inside of it. A nervous habit.

It isn't your business to know where he is at all times, you know that. But the feeling of not knowing is an usual one and his absence at such a crucial time only lights a fire in your belly. What was so important that he missed coming home? So bad that he feels the need to lie about it?

“I was at home, Jayce, waited over an hour for you to show up.” In the cold hallway, may you add.

He sighs exasperatedly, finally looking down at you with a guilty glint in his eyes.

Why the fuck does he look guilty?

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” You swallow down the lump in your throat, trying to ignore the sting behind your eyes. Tonight has been an emotional rollercoaster, you don’t need whatever…this is to ruin it further. 

Irritation fuses with your miserable mood and you sigh, arms flopping back to your sides. “Whatever, I’m not your keeper.”

“Ms. Aristaun?” You freeze mid-turn to the door to find Dr. Baur approaching your side. “Oh, Councilor Talis, it’s good to see you.” Jayce only offers the man a small nod.

“Have you figured out what’s wrong with him?” It’d be about damn time. You’ve been sitting here for the last few hours, stuck with your own thoughts and the soft in and out of Viktor’s oxygen tank. You’re beginning to drive yourself crazy.

The doctor’s expression falters for a moment as he glances between the two of you. “Uh…yes.” You hold your breath, preparing for the worst. “Looking at his screenings, it seems as if he has Noncardiogenic Pulmonary Edema.”

Yep. The worst.

“The high pressure in his pulmonary veins is causing fluid to leak into his lungs. The oxygen levels in his blood are extremely low.” 

Jayce adjusts his stance behind you, a slight hitch to his breath before he speaks. “So, what can be done to help him?”

Baur looks to you wearily. Every physician at this clinic is well aware of who you are; your condition and your knowledge on those similar. He’s your doctor, for Gods' sake. This is what he continuously warns you about. 

Too bad his advice never reached Viktor.

“We can put him on some medications to maintain the symptoms but the damage to his lungs is past severe.”

A heavy silence falls over the hall.

“How long does he have?” The words sound less like a question and more of a pleading demand coming from Jayce.

The doctor looks toward the closed door solemnly. “Maybe we should wake him, speak with him directly–” 

“How long? ” You command sourly.

“Ideally, six months.”

Ideally? You’re going to be fucking sick.

“We can find a way to keep him comfortable for the time being, drain the fluid–” Your brain completely mutes the conversation, ears throbbing with the rush of blood flowing through them. Your vision turns into a narrow tunnel and the only sensation you can feel is your floundering heart in your chest, its tempo trickling into your extremities.

The other men’s voices are muffled against your clogged mind and you fumble for the handle on the door, slipping back into the room without a word. You stare at Viktor’s sleeping form for a long moment, focusing on the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Why hadn’t he said anything? This isn’t something that arises all of a sudden, it’s a slow spiral of pain and misery. 

Why didn’t you notice sooner?

He depends on his cane more, eats less, throws himself into his work while practically coughing up a lung. And you just noticed the blood.

You’re able to hide it from others, why wouldn’t a genius like him be able to as well?

You numbly drag your body back to the chair at his bedside, clasping his hand into both of yours to lay your forehead upon. His skin is cold. It’s cold in this room.

It’d be your turn, soon. You’d be the one laying in the bed, shivering under the sheer blankets, Jayce clinging to your freezing skin. It should be you first, Viktor still has so much work to do here. Lord knows how helpful you’ll be to Jayce in his stead.

You faintly hear the door click open and shut, the shuffling of feet on the carpet as something is dragged next to you. The noise of weight settling against leather has you holding onto your breath, hoping you’ll disappear with the absence of air in your lungs.

Turns out your lungs can’t handle holding your breath for more than 10 seconds.

“You should go home, get some rest. I’ll stay with him.” Jayce’s hand rests on the curve of your spine, rubbing over the rivets of your vertebrae. The sensation would be comforting if he didn’t feel like such a stranger right now.

You accept his touch, nonetheless. You could use some comfort right about now.

“Tell me you’re still in this. Still with us.”

The silence that follows feels as if he seriously ponders your question, either unsure of his answer or taken aback by such a query. You pray it’s the latter. “I am. Always will be.”

All you can do is take him by his word.

“I need to see him wake up first,” You lift your head to press a kiss on the back of Viktor’s palm, uncurling your back to sit up once more. “Don’t think I can sleep without knowing.” Jayce’s hand stills on your back and you grieve the movement.

You never thought there’d come a day where you weren’t sure what to say to Jayce.

A half an hour must pass in complete silence, both of your eyes going between Viktor, objects around the room and your own hands. Your chest aches in a concerning way but you’re unsure if that’s just the heartbreak. At some point, the chill upon the older man’s skin becomes too troublesome and you tuck his arms under the covers.

It’s pretty uneventful until you hear Viktor’s voice croak.

“Saphyre?”

Something inside you shatters at the way he says your name.

“Viktor,” You sigh in relief, immediately standing to lean over his bedside, pushing the hairs draped across his forehead away. His eyes flutter under your touch and you swallow the lump in the back of your throat. “There you are.” You chuckle a little wetly, feeling a small increment of the weight on your shoulders lift off.

Jayce finds his place next to you, hands fidgeting against each other as if they aren’t sure what to do. “Viktor, the doctors, um…” You can hear the warble in his voice and that weight tumbles back on. “They said you’re…”

Viktors shifts his head to gaze at the ceiling, a sigh escaping him heavily. “How much time do I have?”

You can see Jayce’s chin sink down to his chest in your peripherals and you pet across the other man’s hair, biting down a jeer. “Don’t do that, Vik.”

“Not a lot of time, then.”

“Viktor.” You scold and he nudges away your hand, avoiding both of your eyes. Like a petulant child.

You step away from the bed, placing your hands on your hips as anger bubbles at the base of your throat. “So, what? You just… give up? Just like that?” You leer bitterly, letting go of all rationality and control over your emotions. Both of them have put you through hell just to be so compliant with the outcome? “You’re just going to lay down and die?”

“I am not ‘laying down and dying’. I am accepting the logistics of the situation.” He murmurs back with a resentful tone.

You scoff and turn to Jayce for backup, but he only turns away with a frown.

“I’m not going to sit here and watch you be okay with dying.”

“That is your choice.”

You freeze at that.

What’s going on?

How can everything unravel at your feet in a single night?

You huff out a disbelieving laugh, still not finding an ounce of support from the room. “You’re an asshole.” You almost shoulder check Jayce as you storm out of the room, not caring about the way the door slamming shakes the walls.

You’ve spent all of these years picking up the pieces of your health, completely changing your lifestyle to lengthen your lifespan– for them. How is it so easy for him to give up like that?

Fuck it, maybe you should dig your pipe out of that box in the back of your closet.

…

It’s been a few days since the whole fiasco.

You went home that morning and spent half of the day in bed, only getting up to go to your appointment to get your other lung drained. After that, straight back home. You tried to fill your brain with continuing on one of your sculptures, but ultimately gave up. The clay wouldn’t smooth out, no matter how much water you added to it and pieces kept falling to the ground after you thought you had secured them on.

Your bed is more comfortable, anyway.

When Jayce got home that evening, you found enough energy to try and pick a fight but he ultimately talked you down. He held you close while you sobbed well into the night. You must’ve been quite the pitiful sight for him to baby you like that.

He convinced you to come back to work the next day. It feels like your world has been flipped onto its back.

The energy in the lab seemed charged and ready to blow, and uncomfortable silence hanging like a noose in the air. The only time someone spoke was to address Jayce. Neither you or Viktor were ready to speak to each other, it seemed.

You knew he wouldn’t have the humility to apologize and you never felt the need to do so yourself. Although, you were the one to snap at him…

He snapped at you plenty of times before that, fair is fair.

By the second day, things had calmed down.

You had just returned with Jayce’s lunch, feeling the itch in your brain to grab Viktor something as well. You’re mad, but don’t hate the man. Plus, this is the only way you can assure yourself he is eating.

Jayce has Viktor wrapped in his arms in the middle of the room when you walk in, the taller man pressing a kiss to the other’s head. You try to remain as still and quiet as possible as they sway back and forth to a silent tune.

Something always aches in your heart when you see them like this– a good ache. An ache that tells you they’ll always have each other if you happen to disappear one random afternoon.

“Let’s just get through today, hm?” Jayce’s voice is muffled against the other man’s hair but is clear enough to feel like you’re standing there next to them. You don’t even want to breathe, too afraid to break up this precious moment.

Viktor hums against him, squeezing his waist tighter. You can tell that Jayce is holding the majority of their body weight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, watching Jayce’s head whip to stare at you in the open doorway, eyes relaxing when he registers it’s only you. His grip on the man never wavers. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt. I brought some lunch, is all.” Viktors head slowly turns in the other’s hold to face the sound of your voice.

“I wasn’t sure if you were hungry, Vik, but I got you something anyway.” You hold out the bag gracelessly, slowly shifting to set it on one of the tables when they make no move to approach you. Damn, maybe you really did interrupt.

You begin to unload the contents onto the surface, back turned to the room and you can barely hear the shuffling of feet behind you. You can smell his cologne before he can touch you, Viktor’s arms wrapping around your middle tightly, unbalanced and wobbly without the support of his cane. You widen your stance to keep the both of you stabilized.

You expect a few words to be whispered into the small of your neck but are only met with silence, the soft in and out of his breaths fluttering against the shell of your ear. His nose nuzzles into the side of your head and you almost hesitate to return his affections. Almost.

“Vik,” You murmur softly, arms resting on his.

“I’ve missed you.” He rumbles against you.

You can’t help but chuff out a bit of a laugh, it’s been three days. With how much time you spend together, three days may as well be a lifetime.

“I’m here now.” Your lips spread into a small smile as you lean back into him, watching the shadow of Jayce slowly approach. He places a kiss upon both of your heads before reaching for his lunch.

“See, I knew the two of you would make up.” He unwraps one of his sandwiches to sit back on the table, the word ‘smug’ practically sprawled across his forehead.

Your eyes roll over in your head. “With no help from you, may I point out.”

You can hear Viktor chuckle against you, his hands traveling to hold onto your hips, thumbs stroking against the bone there. 

“Hey, I helped!” Crumbs threaten to spew from his mouth and you cringe away, prompting him to correctly cover his mouth. “I was just telling V about how upset you were.”

“So you manipulated him into feeling bad for me?”

Jayce gawks, almost dropping his sandwich at his feet. “No!”

“Yes.” Viktor grumbles, finally appearing from the spot in your neck. “He guilted me into the whole thing.”

You break into a full laugh, then, tossing your head back onto his shoulder as his hands still on your sides, reveling in his ability to make you laugh so easily. All tension that had built up in the last few days is slowly melting away.

“As if you weren’t just lamenting on how much you missed Saph.” Jayce chides snarkily, taking another harsh bite of his sandwich to emphasize his point– and to give him an excuse from elaborating further.

You remove the man’s grip on you for a moment to turn yourself around, replacing his hands just as quickly. Your arms find their place around his neck, listening to him practically purr when your fingers weave through his hair. “I knew you didn’t hate me.

“Never said I did.”

And you thought Jayce was a little charmer.

You scoff in faux disbelief, eyes flickering down to his lips for a split second. It dawns on you how long it’s been since you kissed him.

You watch as his eyes travel to your lips not-so-casually, not even bothering to lift his gaze again.

You don’t even stop to think before you’re leaning against him, slotting your lips against thin ones. They’re a little dry but are sure to moisturize with your spit. A little gross? Probably.

“Get a room, you two.” Jayce playfully jabs and you smile into Viktor’s mouth, throwing a middle finger the other man’s way as nimble digits massage the plush of your waist. So infrequently does he touch you like this. It sets your skin ablaze.

…

From then on, someone is always at Viktor’s side.

Whether he’s working in the lab, going to meetings with Heimerdinger or walking the streets of Piltover. The only time someone doesn’t have eyes on him is when he’s home– and even then you’re hesitant to leave him be.

In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never spent the night over there, only seen the inside a handful of times.

It took some figuring out to make the monitoring seem less like ‘chaperoning’ and more ‘accompanying’.

Do you think he will keel over and die at any moment? No. But the chances are never zero.

You retrieve a handkerchief for Viktor, hand petting through his hair before you’re going back to your work. It feels like your coughing fits have been playing tag for the last hour.

You slam your sketchbook shut, sliding your writing utensils into their pouch to shove everything into your bag. “Where is Jay? I don’t have anything written in his schedule and he was supposed to be here half an hour ago.” You huff, looking at your watch as the hand ticks another minute.

Viktor only grunts and shrugs his shoulders in response.

“I have a class to teach at three,” ‘2:31 pm’. And your office is on the other side of campus. “I swear, if Councilor Hoskel stopped him again,”

“Just go, I’ll be fine by myself for a little.” His tone is slightly vexed and you almost can’t blame him. You’d be irritated too if there was someone constantly breathing down your neck, checking in on you. To be fair, you have your share of that treatment, as well. Just not as intensive– yet.

You bite the inside of your cheek, staring at dark brown hair, weighing your options.

Jayce had been… disappearing more often, recently. Showing up later than promised, slinking out unexpectedly with some half-hearted excuse that you have no energy to question. Between your and Viktor’s health, teaching classes and being an assistant, you have little to no time to worry about anything else. His behavior hasn’t changed too drastically, so it can’t be bad, right?

Right?

“It’s not even about that, at this point. It’s about punctuality and keeping his damn word.” You grumble the last part of the sentence, swinging your bag over your shoulder a little more than aggressively. 

You stride over to Viktor, pressing a kiss to his temple. “I’ll go find him and have him come by to work. I’ll be back later this evening.” 

“Try not to rip him to shreds.” He calls after you as you go to the door and chuckle slips from you.

“No promises.”

You keep your eyes peeled as you travel down to the main floor in case Jayce happens to pass by you, but you make it all the way outside into the square without a glimpse of him. You walk down the street toward the Councilor’s Block first, assuming Hoskel really may have caught him walking past and stopped him. The older man always has something to say, it seems.

No matter how clean the air is in the uppercity, your chest still heaves for oxygen at the slightest pop in your step. Your legs are moving faster than your lungs would prefer but you are in a bit of a rush. 

‘2:56 pm’.

Knocking on Hoskel’s door, one of his attendants answers to tell you he isn’t in. Hm.

When you make it back to the street, Mel’s assistant is stepping down her patron’s front doorstep.

“Elora!” You call out, holding onto the strap of your bag as you rush over to her. She perks up at the shout before her face spreads into a kind smile, waving toward you.

You’ve always liked Elora. She’s a very demure woman, soft-spoken and kind with her mannerisms in a way you envy. You look up to the younger girl somewhat. She’s everything you want to be as an assistant, organized and professional.

“I’m sorry to stop you, I just have a bit of an odd question.”

“No worries at all, I was just stepping out for a moment.” She waves you off with a grin, clasping her hands together in front of her.

“You didn’t happen to see Jayce around here? He was supposed to meet me at the laboratory at two o’clock and I have a class to teach at three…”

She straightens up, eyes widening in recognition. “Oh, he’s actually with Councilor Medarda inside right now! Got here about ten minutes ago, I believe.”

Oh?

Your eye twitches.

“Really?” Your voice comes out with a forced sweetness and you can only hope it’s not too obvious. “Would you be okay with taking me up? I just need to speak with him before I go.” You can hear Viktor’s words in the back of your head.

‘Try not to rip him to shreds.'
 

Easier said than done.

“Absolutely! They should be in her gallery, follow me.” Elora chirps and you’re following her back up the steps, entering the Medarda estate. 

No matter how livid you want to be, the home is absolutely breathtaking. There are paintings hung on every wall, mainly landscapes with textured ridges to show the paint was swiped on with a palette knife instead of a brush. Many faces are flitting about with their own tasks, oblivious to your presence or situation. You’re sure Ms. Medarda gets many visitors.

Elora takes you to the top floor, the staircase leading to a closed double doorway and you can assume the room takes up the entire level.

It’s only a matter of time before Jayce will begin to get tired of your poorly apartment and want to move into something as extravagant as this. You don’t really understand the yearning for this lavish of a lifestyle, but maybe that’s your Zaunite roots talking.

Her knuckles rap against the wood a few times before she twists the handle, stepping into the room. “Councilor Talis, Ms. Aristaun is here for you.” She offers sweetly and you’re just in time to see the way Jayce startles, lifting his head from Mel’s lap. 

He’s on his feet by the time you step onto the tile.

The room is grandiose, to say the least. The entire outer wall is glass, looking out upon the cityscape. Empty or half-finished canvases litter the floor and walls, ready to be hung or painted upon. In the middle of the room is a sitting pit, throws of pillows surrounding a board for her various wines and charcuteries. 

Mel rises up more leisurely, clueless to the tension that is building in your stare. “Ms. Aristaun, it’s so nice to see you.” Her soft voice is almost melodic, saccharine and smooth in a way that would soothe you if it weren’t for the high speed train charging through your brain.

Your gaze is reluctant to leave Jayce’s form and you can feel the way your jaw is slackened in shock. You snap it shut, forcing a smile onto your lips.

“Please, call me Saphyre,” You hum pleasantly, sliding into the room further. Your back is ramrod straight, heart pounding against your rib cage but you keep your composure. No need to make a scene.

“Saphyre,” She repeats gently, finding satisfaction in the vowels.

Your eyes catch on the painting she’s working on, the red sails of warships floating from their docks. A ping of jealousy zips through your mind– it’s almost frustrating how gorgeous it is. Your style shuffles between contemporary pieces to those similar to street art. You try to find the balance between your childhood in Zaun and adulthood in the upper city, though you never found the chance to explore your abstracts.

Her style is original, the shapes and use of colors completely abstruse to the normal. To the naked eye, everything is blended perfectly but up close, the distribution of her shades creates a soft gradient to have the illusion of blending. And the awareness she has towards the spacing on her canvas…

“I was just stopping by to grab Jayce. We…have some things to attend to.” You break your stare from the painting to the man, finding him frozen like an animal caught in a bright light. All eyes turn to him and he tries to loosen his muscles.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I must’ve lost track of time.” His hand rubs at the back of his head and you fight off a scoff. ‘Lost track of time’ your ass.

Your eye twitches once more. “Yes, well…we better get going then.”

Jayce crosses to your side of the room before Mel addresses you again. “Actually, Saphyre, I was hoping I could entertain you for some artistic advice? You are the most talented artist in Piltover, afterall.”

Is she buttering you up on purpose? Or is she genuinely this nice?

“Could we schedule something? I’m late to teach a class,” ‘3:02 pm’. More than late.

She nods politely, folding her hands together. “Of course, I’ll have Elora add it to my timetable.” 

Your cheeks hurt from smiling. “Perfect.” You shift towards Jayce, giving him a look you’re sure screams ‘Good luck talking your way out of this one!’. You watch as he swallows thickly, turning your back without another glance to bound your way out of this disgustingly glorious house.

You only know Jayce is at your tail by the sound of his footsteps but he never comes forward to match your pace– as if he’s ashamed.

Pattering your way out of the foyer, you can’t decide if you want to explode into screams or dwell in your anger silently. It seems that he’s already beating himself up internally. Maybe he can dig himself into his own hole.

“Saphyre–”

You step back into the sunlight, not bothering to look back at him as you continue down the street. “You were supposed to be at the lab at two.”

Your voice is scarily level, even for you.

“I know, I just–”

“Lost track of time? ” You shoot over your shoulder, disgruntled tone popping through. 

He sighs in defeat and you repeat the motion, stopping on the pavement to gather yourself. You turn to him and he looks like a kicked puppy, ears pointed down and all.

“Look, I don’t mind you having your own business. I don’t mind you having secrets or things you keep from me, if you have friends and trade in some of the time we spend together for them. Hell, I don’t mind it if you disappear and show up a little later than expected every once in a while.”

“What I do mind is you leaving without a word every other day, making me late for plans with the same apathetic excuse. I do mind you coming back with that guilty look on your face and then pushing me away when I try to reach out, because the way you’ve begun to make Viktor and I wait around for you is simply unfair.”

Every word you utter is calculated, emphasized with a wave of your hand or point of your finger.

“And I understand that you’re a Councilor now and that makes you busy, but if telling me whatever this little secret you have will allow me to write it in your schedule– to give me a little peace of mind, I’ll take it.”

Birds chirp overhead, the soft chatter of people further down the street.

You’re in a standoff, staring at each other as you wait for the other to make a move. You’ve already drawn your gun, aimed and ready to fire.

Jayce shifts on his feet, pressing his lips together as his eyes fall away from yours. “I can’t tell you right now.”

His gun remains in its holster.

You nod your head, tongue licking over your teeth. “Right. Well, you’ve made me late to class.” Your shoulders shrug as he stands there, shoving his hands into his pockets like a lectured child. “Viktor’s at the lab, make sure he’s not dead.”

Without another word, you swivel on the heel of your foot, fumbling for the handkerchief in your pocket as blood spews from your lips.

…

“Watch.” The Hexcore bursts with light, spinning as it turns its faces and the roots of the plant on the platform above twitch in response– your plant that you sacrificed, no less.

The leaves sprout to life with purple veins, stalks shooting to the ceiling in their newfound growth. “It responds to organic matter.” Viktor switches a crank on the side of the module to raise the resonance, a burst of power flowing outward as the plant doubles in size. Purple arteries seem to throb with potential, double your height by now.

Jayce’s eyes light up in delight and anticipation, as if Viktor had just given him the moon to fit in the palm of his hand.

“This is unlike anything we’ve ever seen, Jayce.” The older man turns to stand in front of the chalkboard, every inch covered in diagrams or writing. “It– it could be the key to augmenting physiology, extending life…”

“Curing you.”

You bite your tongue from where you sit on the couch, not even bothering to try and look interested– neither of them were paying attention to you, obviously.

Suddenly, the plant lets out a small squeal, leaves turning a sickly gray, decomposing and crumbling in on itself. Jayce backs away and stares in alarm. 

“It's happened to everyone. I can’t determine why.” Viktor thumps his forehead against the chalkboard, taking a breath. “They’re…rejecting the transmutation.”

The taller man stares at the disheveled experiment, huffing out a sigh before going to Viktor’s side, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. “We’ll solve this.”

“There may not be time.” The shorter one shoots back solemnly. “We’re in uncharted waters here and I can feel my body…eroding.” He leans his weight into the other man and the younger man accepts it, tucking Viktor into his chest. “Though, it could be of assistance to Saphyre’s condition.”

Jayce presses his nose into the other’s hair. “We can have her bring Heimerdinger, then. He might know something that could help.

Oh, now you exist.

Letting Viktor go, he reaches for a piece of chalk on the sill of the board, tossing it up in the air. “In the meantime, we’ll do what we do best.” And you’ll do what you do best– be his assistant. With such a menial task, you’d think he would be able to do it himself. Whatever, at least you’ll be able to get the hell out of here.

You don’t wait for either of them to address you before you’re setting the files down, leaving your place in the cushions to go to the door. “I’ll be back, then.” You shoot over your shoulder simply, exiting without another word.

You step into the hallway and draw in a deep breath– the air is so thick in there, stuffy and suffocating in a disturbing way. You cover your mouth with your fist when your throat spasms with a cough, turning to find the lift. 

The fit refuses to let up as you raise to the next floor, walking down the hallway to Heimerdinger's office. You have to wipe the blood from your knuckles before reaching up to knock on the steel, balling up your red and brown spotted cloth. You step back and wait for a moment before the door creaks open, his small form in the archway.

“I apologize, Professor, are you busy?” You swallow down another jolting wheeze.

“Not at all, dear. How may I be of help?” He’s pleasant as always, treating you with unwavering respect and kindness, though he has a glint to his stare that makes you wonder if he knows all of your secrets. You wouldn’t be surprised if he did, he’s a fucking genius.

You can’t stop the choke cramping in your throat, turning away to hack into the handkerchief once more. You attempt to hide it in the palm of your hand as discreetly as possible.

“Sorry–” You gasp for breath. “I’m just stopping by to request your presence downstairs, Jayce and Viktor have something they’re hoping you would be willing to look at.” 

He nods once without a word, striding into the hallway to shut the door behind him. “Lead the way, young lady.”

You follow his motion, treading back down the way you came. You press the button on the elevator to the floor below, backpedaling to rest against the back wall of the carriage. You revel in the silence for a moment, comfortable in his calming company. 

“Is the blood a normal occurrence?”

“I’m sorry?” You gape, eyes flashing to his indifferent stance.

“The blood on your handkerchief. I’ve been around long enough to sharpen my attentive eye, it’s been said that it’s quite difficult to withhold a secret in my presence.” He chuckles at his own words, hands folded behind his back and gaze pointed perfectly forward.

“I…” He really is like some omniscient God. “No. It’s not something that I try to advertise, though.” You shift nervously on your feet, shoving the fabric back into your pocket to keep it from your mind entirely.

The lift dings in response to its arrival, doors sliding open to reveal your hallway.

“Why, of course not. I’m sure you wouldn’t want others to worry. Do your boys know about it?”

‘Your boys’.

“Jayce doesn’t. He has enough on his plate already with Hextech, being a Councilor and now Viktor…” You wish you could reach the laboratory quicker but, then again, you aren’t sure which you would rather– Heimerdinger’s unwavering focus on your health or being ignored in your own workspace.

The professor keeps back as you approach the door. “There’s nothing more important than the health of the one you love.”

Love.

You swallow thickly, shaky hands fumbling with the latch as you rush to let the man in and get the hell out of this conversation.

Heimerdinger totters in and you follow behind, shutting the door to bee-line to the couch and shove your head back into that stack of files. They aren't going to read and organize themselves, that’s for sure.

“What is that?” The professor's voice is small under the pulsing room, energy trickling out in waves from the Hexcore.

“I’m calling it the Hexcore. It’s an adaptive rune matrix. Hextech that evolves.” You can hear Viktor adjust his cane on the floor as you skim through another sheet of paper, setting it on the arm of the couch before moving on.

Jayce stammers over his own voice and you kick off your boots, drawing your legs up to your chest to curl into the corner cushion. “It’s groundbreaking. What’s most exciting is that it responds to biological matter.”

You finally tune your ears out of the conversation as he continues to ramble on, focusing on the diagrams and blueprints of the Hexgates, going over their revisions and costs. You circle the dollar amounts, underlining some of the highpoints for Jayce to go over later. He’d most likely just skim over the majority of it and focus on the functionality and science behind everything.

You flit over to the page behind it– a full breakdown of costs separated into categorized charts. Good lord, you aren’t necessarily poor, but these numbers are unimaginable to your bank account. 6 figures going into workers expenses, 8 for the cost of tools and materials. 

No wonder you and Jayce haven’t moved out of that apartment yet.

You don’t really care either way, it’s larger than most others in the building, cozy and charming in its own way. You prefer it.

“You must destroy it.” You perk up from the files quickly, staring at the back of Heimerdinger’s frozen form.

“What?” Viktor questions as Jayce quirks a brow.

The professor shakes his head. “Please, if ever you’ve put faith in my guidance, hear me now. I’ve seen nations destroyed by a single seed and it looked…” A finger points to the warbling Hexcore. “Exactly like this.”

“Professor, this could save Viktor’s life…or even Saphyre’s.”

‘Oh, no. Don’t bring me into this.’ You curse in your head, papers wrinkling under your tightening grip.

“Viktor, something’s different. You’ve changed. What did you do?” Heimerdinger’s voice is soft and Viktor’s eyes slowly draw away from the Hexcore to find him. He pales– more than usual.

His gaze can’t find a target as he stutters before landing on the smaller man. “What do you mean, Professor?”

“It’s that thing. It must be destroyed!” The core shudders in response to the professor's proclamation as he charges toward the module.

“Wait–”

Jayce is quick to step in front of him with an indignant frown, holding him back with a hand. “No. I won’t let you.”

The papers you’re holding glide to the floor as you shoot up, not expecting a physical altercation but definitely primed to step in at any second. Next to being an assistant, you are also the resident mediator.

“Jayce, this is a violation of the Ethos.” Whatever that means. “I will have it destroyed one way or another.”

“That’s your opinion. We’ll see if the Council agrees.” The taller man shoots back with venom hissing through his tone. They stand there in a standoff for a long second, both of their fists clenched in a show of masculinity.

Finally, Heimerdinger storms off with a huff, too tiny to properly slam the lab door behind him.

You sigh in synchronicity with Jayce, kneeling down to pick up the files you dropped.

One moment, the man is too afraid to go against the professor’s advice in a speech, the next he’s getting himself into a face off with him. How stressed does an individual have to become?

“I might know someone else who can help.” Viktor offers gently and you squeeze your eyes shut.

Heimerdinger may not have always been the most accurate with advice when it came to Hextech, but he’s over 300 years old. He’s bound to know a thing or two about destruction. And from what you’ve seen in the lab today, it’s not looking great– borderline dangerous.

Scientists will be scientists, though. Continue to experiment until someone dies. You can only hope it won’t be one of you three.

“You do what you have to. I need to get ready.”

You watch as Viktor pouts his lips, putting on that innocent but curious look as his eyebrows raise. It reminds you of when you first met him, full of inquiry and brilliance. If you weren’t so upset, you’d point out how cute he looks and try to kiss him silly.

You miss those days.

“For what?” He asks and Jayce only waves him off with a small laugh, striding over to the lockers to change out of his work coat.

“So, you’re serious about going against Heimerdinger?” You place the stack of papers back onto the arm of the couch, reaching up to rub the pad of your thumb into your sternum.

Jayce rolls his neck on his shoulders, unbuttoning his coat to shrug off and hang up. “We’re onto something extraordinary here, we can’t just give up because he’s going against it, like always. I mean, you were the one who was so adamant on Viktor finding a way to survive–”

“Woah.” You interrupt, hand chopping through the air. “I only wanted him to have some optimism, not risk his life on something we know nothing about.” You turn to the man in question for assistance, but he’s fiddling with the engravings on the handle of his cane.

Why is no one ever on your side?

“Well, that’s what we’re trying to do. Learn more. It’s obvious that draining fluid from the lungs doesn’t do much.” He mumbles, reaching into the locker for his vest, hiding behind the metal door.

“I’m sorry? ”

There’s a small silence as Jayce collects his words, watching his hands as they work instead of the disbelieving glare you’re giving him. “I know those treatments aren’t helping you, Saph. You’re getting worse.”

“They’re keeping me alive.” You shoot back, arms waving at your sides in an exasperated fashion. Your throat itches, tremoring at the coughing fit it aches for. You suppress it. It’ll only prove his point.

“I won’t deny that– and I’m grateful, baby. But our medical intelligence doesn’t hold the same potential as the Hexcore.” Vest finally buttoned, he smooths his hands down the fabric before falling to his sides in defeat. “I can’t sit by and lose the both of you to the same thing. I won’t do it, Saphyre.”

You bite onto the inside of your bottom lip, inhaling deeply through your nose.

He’s right. 

It’s obvious you aren’t going to save yourself, you should feel lucky knowing he cares enough to take the risk.

You can only nod slowly in response, picking at the dead skin around your fingernails as you plop back down on the couch. Viktor slowly strides into your space under the silence, lowering himself on the cushions next to you. A lean hand falls upon your leg, thumb stroking over your clothed thigh before a kiss presses to your hairline.

“I’m…going to call a meeting with the Council.” Jayce’s voice hangs in the air.

“Keep us updated.” Viktor hums a moment later as your head falls to his shoulder, the hand on your thigh shifting to wrap around your waist.

The sound of the door shutting echoes against the steel walls, lulled by the sensation of Viktor’s hand stroking over your skin. “Can we just…” You swallow, following the pattern of his pants with your eyes. “Lay down?”

He doesn’t need to respond for you to know he’s willing, immediately altering his position to lay down against the length of the couch, arms raised to allow space for your body. You climb in just as quickly, face finding its place in the crook of his neck– warm and welcoming, as always.

His limbs close around you, hands resting on the mid and small of your back with a tight squeeze. Your legs entangle with his, careful to keep your weight off of his bad side.

You can feel the beat of his heart against his chest, mingling with your own to slowly create a single, steady rhythm.

“You worry far too much. You are not the one dying.”

“Not yet. Slowly, but surely.”

He huffs out a small chuckle, the sound vibrating against you.

“Everything will work out the way it is supposed to.”

Chapter Text

Walking the streets of Zaun for the first time in almost a decade feels…surreal, to say the least. Nothing is that different structurally, but feels just as uncanny all the same. When you did come down as an adult, it’s always very brief to look for more micah powder or oils at a lower price. Nothing noteworthy to really remember, so all of your memories are pretty soured from your childhood.

In truth, it wasn’t all that bad. You learned many important lessons, made a lot of lifelong bonds– even if you never actually kept in touch. You know that if you were to suddenly appear again, it would feel as if you had never left.

Viktor is eerily silent as you follow just a step behind him, course set on the rocky ravines at the edge of town. It seems like it’s second nature for him to climb down the rock, stopping at the bottom to turn and offer a hand to help you down the final drop.

“Thank you,” You hum softly and he gives your hand a quick squeeze before continuing on his mission. Coughs rack through your chest from all the exertion and you press a hand to your chest in an attempt to calm your aching lungs. The small, trickling “waterfall” continues to pour down from a craggy edge into the shallow stream and you’re almost surprised it hasn’t dried out by now. The movement of the water is so subtle that you have to stop to notice its snail’s pace.

The darkness of the night makes it almost impossible to see 5 feet in front of you and you have to assume Viktor is continuing on with nothing but pure memory in his step.

He guides you into the old cave system, now completely pitch black and you hold onto the tail of his vest, hoping you’re not hindering his movement. Thankfully, the space opens up quickly, moonlight streaming down to illuminate the cave to reveal a single wooden door carved into the far wall.

You remember the rocks once bloomed with shimmer plants, but have long since been plucked away from the high demand.

“What is this place?” You let go of Viktor’s vest to take in your surroundings, boots kicking into the superficial pool of water.

“A laboratory.”

You puff out disbelieving noise. “Really? It looks more like an abandoned cave to me.”

Viktor follows you around the standing water, stopping to run his fingertips over a boulder in the middle of the space. “I’m hoping not. I’m not sure where else I would find him.”

Suddenly, the wooden door creaks open, a tall but scrawny man sliding into the moonlight. He’s completely bald, the bottom half of his face hidden underneath a scarf that does practically nothing to cover the scar taking up the entirety of its right side. You remember seeing this man when you were younger, slinking through the streets eerily. 

Time has not been kind to him.

“Viktor.” The man sighs in recognition, all too familiar with your partner’s face. From the tilt in his brow, you can tell he is pleased.

Viktor moves forward, a glint to his eyes. “Doctor.” He continues closer, stopping halfway up the first step to turn over his shoulder. “Wait for me here.”

“How long will you be?”

He does that unsure tilt back and forth with his head, lips thinning out in thought. “Not long.”

You sit on that rock no longer than five minutes before you become bored, knowing that the chances of you waiting around all night were more than likely. Maybe not all night, but enough time for you to walk around, if you so pleased.

And you do so please.

Following your own feet’s will, you stumble past your old neighborhood– if it could be called that. Really, it’s a row of simple shacks, four walls and a tin roof to shelter from the weather, lined up side to side to house orphaned children. At the time, there was a woman who lived at the head of the block, a widow who looked after all of the kids. She would make sure you were fed, watered and clean, nurturing you back to health when you got hurt or sick.

You’re sure she’s well into her 50’s or 60’s by now, hopefully moved into somewhere nicer that can accommodate her preferably.

Children are buzzing about as you pass, eyes locked onto what used to be your place. It has definitely seen better days, rust growing around the edges with miscellaneous scraps of wood hammered about to cover up holes. A girl sits on the ground just in front of the door, playing with an old, beat up doll.

She’s dirty and on the skinnier side but healthy, nonetheless.

Your lungs burn as your feet continue to guide you on towards the middle of the city and it isn’t long before you find yourself standing in front of the infamous metal statue of Vander, his signature pipe in hand.

Once upon a time, you were one of his strays.

As you grew, you slowly gained more free will and confidence to explore the city further, finding yourself stumbling into The Last Drop more than a few times. The troubled youth always seemed to be drawn to him– the ones labeled as conniving thieves, those who picked fights for little to no reason.

You never shacked up at the bar like some others had, too stubborn to take the help but he and Felicia were the closest things to a parental figure you had. Well, them and the lady at the end of your block. Rose?

Felicia, Silco and Vander knew your mother, way back when, worked in the mines together. The two women were once very close from what you’d heard, but lost touch before you were born. It took a few years after her death for them to realize your existence. There, you found out your mother had died from lung disease, contracted from the mineral particles in the mines.

Ironic, right?

You weren’t yet fully conscious when you lost her, too young to truly retain lasting memories. You were forced to learn about her through other people.

You remember when Felicia had her first daughter, Violet. You were only 10 at the time, just old enough to be a babysitter when needed, though you were never left alone for more than 30 minutes at a time. You were just a stand-in for when she would run small errands, but it meant the world to you. It felt like you had a little sister, a real family.

Vander and Silco were enraptured by the little girl.

Not long after, Powder came into the picture.

Things were good for a while. You began to clean up your act to be a good role model for the girls, spending the majority of your time drawing mindlessly with Powder or letting Vi use you as her punching bag. With how young she was at the time, the beatings were never really painful so you taught her some pointers you learned on the streets.

Vander was definitely a better teacher than you, though. The man used to beat his fists against rocks for a living and lived on the streets at one point, he was bound to know a thing or two.

You remember when the war came. When Felicia and Connel died.

Things fell apart quickly. Vander and Silco changed, violence running rampant in the streets with the disorganization of it all. You were bound to lose your way, a problematic teenager once more. Even after it all, you never lost your eye for art, stealing and selling goods to scrape up money to support your hobby.

Your actions were frowned upon, but Vander supported your work. He was the one to push you to sell your pieces, to take your talents top side.

At such a pivotal age, you can’t deny it was hard to leave it all behind– most difficult to leave the girls when they needed you the most. But you couldn’t stand another second living in those conditions, hating the person you had become. You needed to start over.

So you did.

The memory of hearing about Vander’s death still looms over you. Jayce had casually mentioned in passing, the news of Zaun’s leader being struck down traveling all over the city.

Around the same time Jayce was also the one to tell you that the kids who had broken into your apartment all that time ago were some of Vander’s stowaways– Violet and Powder. You never felt the need to divulge your past or your connection to the girls, so it must've been quite the scare for him when you almost fell to your knees at the news.

You sobbed in the security of your room that night, knowing that none of those things would have happened if you would’ve just stayed. Vi wouldn’t be stuck in Stillwater, Powder lost to the grips of Silco. They were both far too young to be sentenced to such fates.

That was far in the past, now.

You still found yourself wondering how they’re doing every so often, Vi in her 20’s and Powder freshly 18. You hope that Vi was able to plead her case and gain freedom, that her younger sister isn’t caught up in Silco’s war on drugs.

You stare up at the metal man, a cold chill roving over your uncovered arms. You wish they could see you now, selling your work worldwide while standing side by side with the Men of Progress. Felicia would tease you on being a man’s assistant and Vander would wave her off, praising you on how far you’ve come.

The thought makes you smile and you go to sit at his feet like the old days.

“It’s about time I pay you a visit, huh?” A quiet laugh escapes you as you settle your elbows onto your knees. “Though, I’d prefer it if you were actually able to respond.”

The wind whistles around your head, a despondent silence falling over you. If anyone were to pass by right now, they’d probably think you’re crazy to talk to yourself like this. It is still Zaun, people like that practically line the streets.

“I know you’re not one to pick favorites, but I might be your most successful daughter. Really made a name for myself up there.” You pause, listening to the distant grumbles of furnaces powering through the night. “You’d be proud.”

Your chin lowers to your chest, head falling forward to stare at the cracked pavement.

You’re not sure if there’s much else to say. You could tell him about how your relationship is slowly falling apart, one of them on the brink of death. You could talk about how you’re slowly dying, as well. 

Blood spouts from your mouth suddenly, a hand coming up just to be stained with crimson. 

“I thought I may find you here.” 

Viktor’s voice has you shooting back up, his approach slow and cautious as if not to interrupt your depressing reverie.

“Visiting your father?” He lowers himself onto the stone next to you, propping up his cane on his other side.

You gape like a fish for a moment as you hide your bloodied hand, skeptical as to how he’d come to such a conclusion. “How did you know? I’ve never said anything.” He shrugs, looking upon the square as darkened windows reflect back at him.

“I assumed. I’ve seen a few of the drawings you have of him in your book. Plus, the age difference would suggest so.”

You nod, understanding that you could never truly keep something from Viktor. He’s too smart, he’ll always figure it out. “I can never get his eyes right.” After all of these years, you seem to have forgotten the shape, every attempt always crossed out with a frustrated twitch in your hand.

You sink your temple to rest on his shoulder as he hums in acknowledgement, posture perfect under the pressure of his back brace. 

“Was your friend able to help?”

You hear the click of his throat as he swallows, stare falling down to his hands when they begin to fiddle with each other. “Not much. Nature is quite intolerant of change.”

You echo his hum, reaching out to interlock his fingers with yours to halt his fumbling hands. An action to show that you’re here next to him. Always have been, always will be.

A comfortable silence falls over the two of you, both of your eyes fixed on your interlocked digits and the way your thumb smooths over the back of his palm. You can feel his tendons twitch under your ministrations.

“He was friends with my mother when I was young. Looked after me after she passed and saw me off when I moved topside.”

The quiet that follows tells you that he's listening but has no input, just willing to listen to you speak.

“He was like an animal shelter for all the stray kids down here. Got me out of trouble half the time and kept me on track, no matter how fucked up the rails were. I lost it when I found out he died.”

“I remember how quiet you were for those few days, even if I barely knew you at the time. You’re not the quiet type, so I could see something was out of place.” Viktor points out and you knock your weight into him playfully, joining in on his quiet chuckle.

“I can be quiet!”

He shakes his head back and forth disapprovingly. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

You huff back, rolling your eyes before relaxing back into him, allowing his head to rest upon yours a moment later.

“That man,” He starts hesitantly, muscles stiffening. “He took me in when I was a young boy– maybe eight or nine. Believe it or not, he used to work closely with Heimerdinger. Got me my spot at the Academy.”

“I thought you were too intelligent to need a recommendation for joining the Academy.”

He chuffs out the tiny remnants of a laugh, a sarcastic light behind it. “I am. Professor Heimerdinger wasn’t being charitous, he was simply blown away with my genius.”

You return a snicker.

“He– Singed, was somewhat of a father figure to me, as well. He cultivated my growth as a scientist. I probably wouldn’t be where I am today without him.”

What was it about strange, single men in Zaun randomly taking in orphans?

“Neither would I without Vander. I never would’ve had the courage to sell my art in Piltover on my own. I wouldn’t have met the Kiramman’s or Jayce. Or you.” Your other hand comes up to fully engulf his but you notice the blood still lingering on your palm. You try to discreetly wipe it away on the pant of your leg. Most of it was dried, anyway.

Viktor’s head turns to press a kiss to your hair. “It was our fate.”

Yeah, fate.

…

You don’t make it back to the bridge until early morning, finding absolute chaos there.

There is shouting of the overpass being shut down, anyone who wants to go through having to go through a full search and security check to be allowed through.

What the fuck?

It isn’t long before Zaunites are pushing against enforces, resisting such precautions in full angry mob style. Viktor and you are just able to squeeze by to the blockade, Marcus quick to notice you before either of you can be trampled. When you pass through, a cacophony of boos and jeers erupt from the crowd. Honestly, you’d be pissed, too.

“What the hell is going on here?” The enforcer guides you away as the first flare is thrown, a trail of red smoke following its path outward. 

More officers rush forward with lit flares, charging toward the blockade without a glance from Marcus. “Councilor Talis has called for a full shakedown on every citizen that passes through here.”

“He what?”

“To prevent further issues. We’ve had to shut down the bridge completely with this much of a struggle.”

“So, you’ve turned to violence? What is that going to solve?” You shrug in irritation, watching as red smoke slowly obstructs your vision of the pandemonium. 

He shrugs back at you, so… unbothered. “I’m just following orders.” Classic response. Marcus turns to another officer as they approach, pointing you out. “Notify Councilor Talis that his assistants are here.”

Your eye twitches, grinding your teeth roughly. 

Viktor only sighs, settling himself down on a bench by the railing and you suppress the urge to tell the Sheriff off, call him an ass-kisser and shove your finger into his chest. Piltover’s oppression on Zaun will never end. And now it’s at the hands of someone you trust.

Marcus turns back to his business and you throw your hands up in the air, groaning. “Fucking pigs.” You mumble to yourself, turning back to Viktor as the smoke begins to get to him, chest heaving in a coughing fit.

“Can you believe this?” His jerking ceases and he looks up to you with utter exhaust.

His bloody handkerchief lays limply in his hand as he turns to the crowd, watching people be shoved back against the stone, fists flying around senselessly. “I never would have thought that Jayce would revert to such a tactic.”

“This is–” You twitch around in anger, grasping at thin air to find the words to explain how you feel. “This is exactly how the war started. Do they forget that this bridge used to be a literal battlefield?

“Some of them may be too young to remember.” Viktor replies with a roll of his eyes and you fall back onto the bench next to him with a huff. What was Jayce thinking? This will only make things worse, mark your words.

At least you’re not the only one so upset by it.

Your face falls into your hands, throat spasming as you heave for fresh air. The smoke was beginning to take up the whole area, soaking into your lungs to fortify that awful drowning feeling.

Viktor offers his handkerchief. Bloody as it is, you take it.

You don’t keep track of how long you sit there waiting, knowing you can’t exactly saunter off without Councilor Talis’s escort. Viktor inspects his cane like it’s the most interesting thing on the planet while you fold over the corner of the cloth in your hands.

“Thank you for alerting me, Sheriff.”

There’s your chaperone.

“Not a problem, Councilor.”

You immediately shoot up to confront Jayce, but Viktor stops you with a hand to the small of your back. “Jayce, what is this?”

The man looks around with an authoritative glare, pressing his tongue into his cheek with a furrowed brow. You sneer. “Do you have any idea how this looks? I order a blockade and my own partners violate it?” His gaze flits between the two of you and you cross your arms.

“Assistants, apparently.” You huff, turning to the side with a disgruntled pout.

He ignores your comment, keeping his focus on the other man.

“Why did you order this?” You’re almost impressed with how well Viktor is keeping calm. If you were allowed to speak, you’d be halfway into a screaming match by now.

Jayce’s gaze falters for a moment, finally seeming to realize the scrutiny he’s under. “There are people down there who seem hell-bent on destroying us.” He waves a hand toward the angry mob to prove his point. “What were the both of you doing?”

His eyes find you again as if trying to guilt you and you reel back distastefully. “I was consulting a friend about our quandary.” Viktor’s head shakes, set on keeping you from blowing up on your partner. “I told you I knew someone.”

“Well, you didn’t say they were from the undercity!”

“What difference does that make?” 

Jayce’s lips warble as he stutters over his words, way past frustrated by now. “What diff–” He straightens up with a raised fist, throwing it back down quickly. “They’re dangerous.”

It seems as if time goes completely still, all other sounds going mute under the tension. You shiver with built up energy, Viktor’s face twisting into indignation.

“We’re from the undercity.” He slams his cane into the ground, lifting himself up.

Jayce immediately recognizes his mistake. “You’re right.” He offers out a hand and the shorter man can feel it before it comes, quickly slapping it away with aggression. His hand falters back in, face screaming ‘I just fucked up.’

Understatement of the year.

“I’m sorry. I’ve had a lot on my plate.” He turns to you as Viktor passes, looking for sympathy but finding it nowhere. Your fists clench together and your jaw sets roughly, hand coming up to rub at the wrinkle between your eyebrows.

Don’t make a scene.

“Was your friend able to help?”

Viktor barely turns over his shoulder and you can feel the glare he’s sending that way. “No. No, he said, ‘Nature was resistant to this sort of… tampering’.” The focus shifts to the unfortunate findings, both of the men deflating.

“Alright, we’ll keep at it.” Jayce’s hand finds its place between Viktor’s shoulder blades as he guides him off the bridge and you try not to spiral under the feeling of being ignored, forgotten again.

You don’t make it more than a few feet before something is exploding behind you, flames licking at your heels. Turning, you find glass shards sprawled over the stone. “A fucking molotov? Really?” You screech back at the mob, arms thrown out at your sides.

Jayce’s hand grabs onto yours as he glares into the crowd, gently tugging you forward so you can walk ahead of him. “C’mon, Saph.” His touch slides up to caress your shoulder. As mad as you are, at least he’s addressing you again.

It’s quite the struggle to convince Viktor to go back home instead of the lab. The two of you have been awake since yesterday morning and you know he slept in the lab the night before. He deserves to sleep in an actual bed, more so needs to.

The walk is eerily silent as you traverse the streets of Piltover, citizens beginning to file out of their homes to start their day.

You follow Viktor up the walkway of his home, watching him fish his keys out of his front pocket as Jayce lingers a few feet back. Your lungs are still throbbing from all the exertion and you try to ignore the wheeze squeaking from your throat.

“Would either of you like to come in?” Viktor slides a key into the deadbolt on the front door, turning his wrist with a click of the lock.

“You should get some rest.” You hum, face softening when you notice the heavy bags lingering under his eyes. They look darker than usual.

Jayce’s footsteps patter behind you as he approaches your side, swiping a large hand through Viktor’s dark brown hair. “You need it.” His hand slides down to cup the shorter man’s face, thumb sweeping across his defined cheekbone. “Plus, I have to catch up to speed on all of Heimerdinger’s work.”

Viktor leans into the touch and you can see the fight he’s putting up to stay conscious. “Why?”

“I…” Jayce’s caress slowly slips away. “He’s retired from the Council.”

Retired?

Your jaw falls slack, eyebrows furrowed in complete confusion. Then, a thought passes through your mind. “Don’t tell me…” Your hands find their place on your hips, shifting your weight to one side with a suspicious glint in your eyes. “Did you vote him off of the Council?”

The silence that follows tells you everything that you need to know, and then some.

“It was unanimous.” Jayce starts uneasily, turning to you. “He worries about the past too much. All he’s ever done is try to stunt Hextech’s growth and question our studies.”

“And gave you the tools and resources to support your studies– gave you a platform to stand on and share your work with the city.” You point out because…how can he not see it? Jayce would be in Stillwater had Heimerdinger not accepted their initial work. He was the one to give them their own laboratory space, stepping in to give advice practically everyday.

So, the Hexcore is where they finally draw the line?

“He has no plan to resolve this conflict. Giving useless speeches to preach peace isn’t going to keep violence off of the streets.” Jayce’s hands flail around as he speaks, motioning this way and that with an indignant tone. “And not everyone can live to be three hundred and fifteen years old, humans can’t just sit around and wait for progress.”

You press your tongue to the inside of your cheek, frown pulling on your lips. “So, you’re suggesting we start another war? Kill those that oppose the Council’s ideals and morals?”

His mouth falls open and it seems as if you’ve truly stumped him, maybe even put things into perspective for someone who’s never felt the weight of oppression. “No! I would never suggest that, it’s just that we have to do something.”

“I bet that Mel loves this idea.”

You bewilder him further, but his face twists in anger this time. He takes in a breath, fist clenching at his side before Viktor steps in, pressing a hand to the other man’s chest to push him back.

“Whatever this is really about, please refrain from doing it on my front doorstep. I’m exhausted.”

Your eyes burn from the fiery glare you’d been giving Jayce and you blink away the sensation, rolling your head to the side as Viktor goes back to his door. “Can I come in?” You borderline plead in a calmer tone. 

He gives you a glance, motioning you in with his shoulder before stepping inside. You give Jayce a final glower before disappearing into the home. You hear the older man give some parting words, mentioning he’d be back at the lab to work later on.

You kick your shoes off by the door and the toes bump noisily against the wall, clattering to the floor. You groan in frustration, hands coming up to grip onto the roots of your hair. “I don’t fucking understand him anymore, Vik. He’s turning into someone else and I can’t do anything about it.”

Viktor saunters past you, going straight into the kitchen and you follow his steps, finding a place on a stool at the counter. “What is with all of this discourse over Councilor Medarda?”

He places the kettle under the running faucet to fill and you cross your arms over the counter to place your head upon, a knot tying itself in the back of your throat. How are you supposed to explain this?

‘I just have this gut feeling. Jayce is around her too much and it makes me hate her.’

Really logical.

“I…” You huff into the granite for a moment, drawing a hand through your hair as you sit back up. “I just have a bad feeling about their… friendship. I feel like there’s something more going on and he’s keeping it from us.”

“And your rationalization behind this is…?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, wishing he could just step inside your brain and see everything for himself. “That night when you collapsed, he didn’t show up until the next morning– right before you woke up. When I asked him, he was so shifty about telling me where he had been.”

“And then, a few days ago when he was late at the lab, I caught him at Mel’s house. I walked in with his head in her lap! I assume that she knows nothing about us because she was so unbothered by the whole thing.”

Turning the gas on the stove, he places down the kettle before turning around to lean back against the countertop. He hums simply while nodding, observing the grain on the wood floor as he processes the information.

“He knows that I know he has this secret, but refuses to tell me. That means it has to be bad, right?”

Viktor’s head tilts warily in a ‘so-so’ motion, fingers gripped around the counter’s edge as steam begins to flow from the kettle. “Not necessarily. I mean, you kept your childhood from us for a long time.”

You sigh, beginning to feel testy. “Okay, but that’s entirely different, none of that is vital information. And so did you, so I don’t want to hear anything.”

“Jayce still doesn’t know that you’re coughing up blood, as well.”

“Viktor.”

“Okay, okay.” He raises his hands in surrender. “Everyone has their secrets is all I’m trying to say.”

Is it even a secret if he’s so obvious about it? If all of his excuses are shitty and half-assed that not even he can believe them?

Your fingertips rap on the granite top, eyes focused on Viktor in almost a scrutinizing way. There’s no way he can take Jayce’s side on this. “But, you have noticed his change in behavior?”

He shrugs, mouth crooking sideways as he finds his words. “Well, yes. I try to tell myself it’s because he’s a Councilman now. It’s easier to think of it that way.” You adore the man, but it’s such a classic Viktor move– deny and look the other way when things become too emotionally involved.

The kettle begins to shriek and he turns to the cabinets to grab two mugs, setting them down to fill up.

“I’m just worried she has too much influence over him, that we’re losing him. All we ever do is argue, anymore…and I miss him.” A cup is slid in front of you, a bag of tea leaves already beginning to dissolve in the hot water.

You steep the leaves with an up and down tug of your wrist, cheek resting against the fist of your other hand. “I can’t lose him, Vik, he’s my everything. I’ve known him for so long that I don’t really know who I am without him.”

“I’m wounded.”

“You know what I mean.” You flatline back, watching as he steeps his own tea on the other side of the counter. “He’s the other part of us, it feels so…incomplete without him.”

His movements halt as his hands fall to the granite, liquid swaying in the confines of the cup. “I understand what you’re saying, I just never quite saw it that way.” You stare at the contents of your mug. “I mean, he’s so dedicated to finding the potential of the Hexcore. Although, I am less hopeful about it being the means to cure me.”

“I have noticed how his behavior has changed toward you, though. I assumed you had fallen into an argument of some sort.”

“Several.” 

“Yes, well,” He takes the cup back into his hands to take a sip, steam blowing into his face to glisten his skin. “It’d be worth having a conversation. A real one.”

Get Jayce to admit he’s been messing around with Mel Medarda? Yeah, right. Good luck.

…

“Saphyre.” Mel addresses you with a small nod as you pass her in the hallway, noticing the door to the lab slowly swinging shut behind her. Stack of files in your arms, you raise your hand in a small wave, face furrowing in confusion when she’s behind you.

Stepping back into the laboratory, the air is thick and tense– more so than usual.

Going to the table next to where Viktor is sitting, you place down the stack of papers. “I brought those archives– was Mel here?” You can’t even get through the sentence before your curiosity is taking over.

“Yes.” Viktor hisses back with a hand rubbing against his forehead. You shrivel backwards, looking to Jayce for an explanation. 

“She’s suggesting that we forge weapons.” He turns over his shoulder from the middle of the room, scratching at his chin in thought. 

“What?” It’s your turn to hiss.

The older man scoffs, picking at a dismantled machine in front of him with a pair of pliers. “Ridiculous. You cannot be considering this.”

“What if she’s right?” Jayce is considering this. “Are we just gonna stand by while they attack us?”

By ‘attack us’ he means the ambush at the Hexgates and fires outside of the auditorium to distract from the Hexstones being stolen– both of which happened weeks ago. The Council is truly on their A-game. Not to mention the whole fiasco on the bridge the other day, which was instigated by enforcers.

There has been talk of undercity gangs rising up to cause more trouble, but no physical action has been taken yet.

“We’re scientists, not soldiers.” Viktor turns over his shoulder with a furrow to his brow.

Jayce returns the look and he almost feels…unrecognizable. “We have the knowledge to defend ourselves.

“We agreed that Hextech was to improve lives…” You watch as Viktor goes back to the workbench, beginning to pick at the machinery in front of him. He struggles with a small plate of metal as he stammers over his own words. “Not to take them.”

“We may not have a choice.”

The metal pops away to expose several rows of wires, a small vial of…

Is that a bomb?

As if taunting you, it begins to tick, a small red light flashing menacingly in your face.

The room goes completely still.

Viktor’s shaky hand comes up to wrap the pliers around a small wire, pulling it up tautly. But, he hesitates, staring at the flashing light. What the fuck is he waiting for?

At what seems to be the very last second, he pulls the wire apart, throwing the bomb and pliers down like they had burned him. The machine powers down, hissing out a stream of smoke.

Both you and Jayce sigh in relief at the same time and you step away from the table, heart stuttering in your chest with shaky extremities.

“There is always a choice.” Even after all of that, Viktor still has a stern tone with the other man, completely disregarding the fact that he just about blew up the entire room. You almost forgot the conversation at hand.

Oh, yeah. Making Hextech weapons.

“...I need to think.” Jayce has that dejected expression as his head falls into one of his hands, slowly sauntering off into the direction of the door.

You stare at the wall, blinking roughly a few times. The order of events within the last 5 minutes is almost unfathomable.

Viktor glares at the door for a moment, scowling. “Can you believe this?”

“That you almost let a bomb kill us all? No, I can’t.”

He sighs heavily with a roll to his eyes, swinging back around to the table but leaving the explosive be. “No, they want to make actual weapons. Like this is some war now.” He reaches for the Hexcore blueprints, fingers tracing over the runes scratched into the plates.

“Another genius idea from the mind of Mel Medarda.”

He finds the humor in your comment and huffs in agreement. “You should’ve seen it– the way they were speaking over me, like I didn’t even exist!”

You backpedal into the couch, sinking down with a ravaging cough. You jolt against the cushions, staring at the far wall and the portrait hung upon its surface– Jayce and Viktor posed against a blue background. It’s been up there for so long that you tend to forget its existence, even if you spent weeks working on it.

“I’ve been trying to tell you.” You smooth your hand over your sternum. “There’s something going on there, she has so much…influence over him.”

“He’s completely forgotten about our work.”

Viktor’s terrible posture struggles under the support of his back brace, elbow propped up to support his temple against a fist. If you could see his face, you’re sure you could see how disheartened he feels clear as day. 

You wish you would’ve paid closer attention to their studies over the years to have even the tiniest bit of knowledge to help him. With what you have now, you’d only be in the way.

His condition is worsening, the only hope for his survival sitting idly in a locked cabinet with a mystery to be solved. And the one man who swore he would do anything to keep his partners alive is too worried about the politics and opinions of others.

You aren’t sure if things could get worse, but who knows? The universe likes to surprise you.

“How can I help?” You haven’t been feeling exactly useful, as of late.

“By talking to Jayce. He needs someone with emotional intelligence to bring some of his senses back.”

You nod, heaving your way back up after just finally getting comfortable in the cushions. Grabbing your bag from the side of the couch, you slip the strap on your shoulder before coming up to Viktor’s back.

You massage your fingers into the junction of his neck and shoulder, dipping your head down to place a kiss into his hair. “Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

“I swear, if you ask me that one more time, I’m going to beat you with my cane.” He flatlines but you can tell he’s only joking. Maybe.

“Okay, okay.” You can’t help but laugh him off a little, giving him a final squeeze to the shoulder. “I’ll be back later, then. Hoping I’m able to find him on the first try this time.” And if you know Jayce well enough, he’ll be sulking in his room back home.

…

All the lights are off in the apartment when you return and completely still save for the ticking of the clock in the kitchen. You click the front door shut silently so as to not alert Jayce of your arrival. You’re lucky you’ve never really shaken your habit of sneaking around soundlessly.

You deposit your shoes and bag in their places, creeping your way through the living room to the hallway, noticing the daylight streaming through his open door.

“Hey.” You rap your knuckles against his doorway, startling him as you lean into the wood. 

The whole walk here, you went over your speech, the points you’d bring up and some of the possibilities of what he’d respond with. You were also able to bring yourself back to a level, calm state to prepare. Nothing ever got solved by going into the conversation already angry.

The book in his hands almost tumbles to the ground and he fumbles with it for a moment, before rolling the cover back over to set it shut on the bed next to him. “Hey.”

Your arm is trapped between your body and the doorframe as you tap your fingers on the wood, biting the inside of your cheek, looking at the contents of his bedroom. Same old, same old. Bed unmade, bookshelf with an open space, a few pieces of clothing laid out on a chair in the corner.

“You come to sway my decision?”

You shake your head, teeth latching onto a dead patch of skin in your cheek.

One of the things you realized on your walk here was that you actually haven’t a clue of what’s going on politically– of what’s going on with their work or the Hexcore. All you have are the bits and pieces you’ve overheard. Mel…may know what’s best for the situation, no matter how difficult it is for you to admit it.

Violence still isn’t your first choice but Piltover is infamous for being ignorant to more passive solutions.

“No, not really. I’m not sure if my opinion will really change anything, anyway.” Your hand slips away from the doorway as you step forward, meandering slowly into the room. “Just wanted to talk.”

Jayce nods his head, sliding his book out of the way when you incline your head, asking for permission to sit next to him on the bed. “Okay.” He replies a little wearily, hands folding together in his lap.

You sink down, letting your spine curl over as you cough through that Gods awful drowning feeling in your chest. You can taste iron on your tongue, swallowing it back down thickly. Maybe you could start there, purge yourself of your secrets and hope he would feel welcome to do so in return.

“I’ve…been coughing up blood for a while now.” You rest your elbows upon your knees, swiping the palms of your hands together. “Maybe a few months?”

You can see his expression twist in your peripherals, mouth crooking to the side. Though he keeps silent, eyes focused in his lap as he picks at his fingernails. Your eyes dart to the side to observe him, his adam’s apple bobbing heavily.

There’s a charged quiet that falls over you like a blanket and you shift uncomfortably.

“I’m dying. I just don’t have a timeline yet, like Viktor.”

More silence.

You sigh, chin dropping to your chest and you wonder if this is a waste of your time. If you wanted to talk to the air, you’d go back to Vander’s statue.

“I assumed. I had my suspicions but could never bring myself to ask.” The soft lilt of his voice is like a wave of relief and you push out a breath you weren’t even aware you had been holding. “I had hoped I was making things up.”

Could you ever be so lucky?”

Your head jerks up and down, turning to look out of the window on the far wall as people go about their day on the streets below. You have to say, this might be the most awkward you’ve ever felt.

“I…” He leans over himself to mimic your position. “I don’t want to make weapons. That idea was out of the question from the moment I discovered the potential of Hextech.” Your face turns back to stare at both of your feet on the floor below you.

“But, I’m in over my head on this whole thing. Everyone’s been breathing down my neck since I joined the Council and the pressure is overwhelming. I mean, I have no idea what to do here, I know nothing about politics or war! And suddenly, I’m supposed to take care of everything because I’m the only one with resources on the board.”

He’s spitting out words so quickly that you begin to wonder if he’s even breathing. If you would’ve known he’d been keeping this much to himself, you would’ve done this a long time ago.

“Mel has more experience than me and has been the only person on the Council to guide me through this process. So if people want weapons…”

An involuntary sigh escapes you at the mention of her– the main instigator of your stress.

Jayce notices your change in energy immediately and you can only hope this isn’t where everything devolves into another argument. To be fair, you haven’t exactly said anything.

Another moment of silence passes and you can practically hear the cogs turning inside of his head. “I’m sorry that you had to walk in on… that, back at her house.” An apology? After everything, you’re pleasantly surprised.

You trap your bottom lip between your teeth, picking at the skin on your hands as you file through all of the available responses in your mind. Provoke the dispute further? Eh, maybe not. Forgive him? Definitely not your first choice, but if it works…

“I just–” You squeeze your eyes shut, taking a breath. “Should I be worried? I’m driving myself up the wall trying to figure out what’s going on between the two of you.”

He doesn’t respond immediately and you can’t bring yourself to look up at him, too afraid of what you’d find.

“I’ve done some things that I’m not proud of, Saph.”

Expecting the worst, your heart picks up its pace, struggling to recycle blood throughout your body.

“The night that Viktor collapsed, I was with Mel at the performing arts center– she told me I should make investments with some of the other Councilors.” He’s very careful with how he chooses his words, careful in his tone and the way he’s coming off. “We…kissed that night.”

It’s like an atomic bomb explodes inside of your chest.

“Both of us had been drinking and it was late into the night,” Oh, you love to hear a good excuse. “But, I immediately regretted it. I had to get away and fucking rethink everything, which is why I was so late getting home.”

“Have you done anything like that with her since?” Your hands are shaking and you can’t understand why, a familiar buzz behind your eyes– though you can’t tell if it's shock or tears. The former would be preferable, you hate letting other people see you cry.

You can hear the dry click of his throat as he swallows his spit, hands clenched together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. “No. She’s tried but I just can’t.” 

Can’t or shouldn’t?

In all reality, why should you be upset? It’s not like you two were even together, nothing had ever been made official. 

The possessive voice in the back of your brain screams to keep him within your sight at all times, keep him in your grip and bite at anyone that tries to get too close. You feel the same about Viktor. Maybe it’d be better to make it official so your jealousy is justified.

“Do you have feelings for her?

“Saphyre–”

“Do you?” You reel in your anger just before it can cast out, but you’re still a little snappy.

He sighs and you feel his weight shift on the bed as he scoots closer, his large hand pressing between your shoulder blades. “I wasn’t lying when I said you’re my number one– that I’m still in this with you. I promise that nothing will ever change that.”

The sting behind your eyes is almost unbearable now, the vision of the floor below you getting blurry by the tears pooling in your eyes. You refuse to blink, to let them fall.

“Look at me, Saph.”

His hand pets over your hair and you straighten up, accepting your fate of him knowing he’d gotten to you. It wasn’t like you to be so emotional over something so…trivial. You used to live on the streets, for fuck’s sake.

Jayce’s expression falters when he sees you, thumb coming down to swipe a tear that became too heavy to sit in your waterline. Your skin burns, face flush from embarrassment as you gather the remaining wetness in your eyes with the back of your hand.

“Viktor needs you, Jay.” His hand lingers on your cheek and you can’t be bothered to shake off his touch. “He’ll never admit it, but I know he’s scared. He needs his partner back.”

His caress falls away as his posture caves in on itself, swiping his fingers through his gelled hair. “I can’t face him right now. He probably thinks I’m being an idiot about this whole ‘making weapons’ thing.”

“He’ll understand the kind of pressure you’re under if you just confide in him. He’s still our Vik.”

He shakes his head, gaze falling to the book he had been reading on the bed next to him. He has that oh, so familiar worry line between his brows and you’re convinced there’s going to be a permanent wrinkle there soon.

“Just some food for thought, then.” You stand from your place, hooking your palm under his chin to lift his gaze and give him a small smile– just so he knows you’re not entirely mad anymore. Your thumb strokes over his stubble and for a moment, he looks at you like you’re the world again. 

Letting go, you turn to the open door to leave him with his thoughts once more.

You stop in the doorway. “And, Jay? Clear things up with Mel. I want people to know about us.” He gives you a single nod before you’re continuing on your way.

…

Only for Viktor would you be walking an unnecessary 5 blocks to the lab to scold him into going home and resting. It started out as stopping by his house to update him on the Jayce situation and, who would’ve guessed– no answer. There’s only one other place he can be.

You’re surprised he hasn’t moved into the laboratories yet. Might as well.

The sun had gone down on your walk, just making it into the building as the streetlights flicked on. Per usual, you cough up the elevator carriage on the ride, finding it a little harder to catch your breath than usual. You have to lean against the wall, fingertips pawing at the skin of your throat as if that’d help open it up. 

With an anxiety buzz, you keep trudging on, legs moving with muscle memory to the lab. You can see the lights are on under the door and you slink in.

There’s Viktor, sitting at the workbench with the Hexcore spinning in front of him. He’s…dressed down in nothing but his undergarments and you can get a good look at his back brace, the knobs of his upper vertebrae peeking out. 

You approach his back quietly yet cautiously, noticing the injection gun sitting on the table beside him. He almost jumps out of his skin when your shadow obstructs the Hexcore’s shining light.

“Shit– Saphyre! What are you doing here?” He pulls himself into the table in a frenzy to hide his body. You tilt your head quizzically, hand coming to rest on his back and you twitch away when your fingers stroke over the screws embedded into his skin, finding a new place to caress.

You get a good look at him, realizing this is the first time you’ve seen him with such little clothing. You’d only seen his upper half bare a few times. You take note of how small he really is, bones jutting out awkwardly and extremities thin enough for your hand to wrap around.

It never really bothered you, but seeing it in the light makes you realize how sick he really is.

In the shadow of the workbench, you catch a glimpse of his bad leg and the remnants of blood drying on the outside of his thigh. You immediately tug him by the shoulder to pull him away from the darkness. Runes, carved into the spaces between his brace.

“Viktor, what the fuck?” A flash of purple pulls your eyes to look into his lap, a vial of Shimmer is slightly obscured as if he had been trying to hide it. “Is that…Shimmer?” 

You’re baffled at the sight, hand now hovering over his skin like you’re almost afraid to touch him. Out of all of the things you could expect, this was not among them.

He picks up the vial to transfer it into his far hand, face twisted in misplaced anger. “You’re supposed to be talking with Jayce.”

“I did. I was coming to check on you.” Your eyes flit between him, the Hexcore, the injection gun and the runes carved into his skin. Looking closer, you notice the small shapes are even carved into the metal of his leg brace. “Where the fuck did you get Shimmer?”

“You need to leave.” He shoots back quickly, avoiding your gaze entirely.

So, you’re just supposed to be impassive about this? “What are you doing?” The Hexcore thrums menacingly on the table, the center pulsing in a warped fashion. Turns out you had good reason to be terrified of the thing.

“Saphyre, I’m begging you, leave me be. I need to do this.” Despite the frustrated facade, you can see the fear in his eyes.

“You want me to turn my back while you kill yourself?”

He sighs, roving his hand over his face. You can see the slight tremble in his fingers. “I’m not going to kill myself, it’s…I’m conducting an experiment.”

An experiment? On himself?

You’ve seen Jayce and Viktor do some crazy shit over the years, but nothing like this. It’s almost cryptic with the way he’s carved into his own skin, stripped down to barely anything and sitting in front of a piece of the Arcane.

“I’ll be fine. I promise.” He pleads with you, hand reaching out to the first place he can reach, which happens to be your hip. His thumb strokes over the bone in the same fashion as when he’d hold you to his chest.

You’re fighting a war in your head because, truly, what can you do to stop him?

Nothing has ever been able to stop the man from doing anything, you just have to hope that you won’t find him dead later.

“I swear to the Gods, Viktor, if I have to find you unconscious on this lab floor one more time.” You concede with a sigh.

He lets out a long exhale through his nose, eyes fluttering shut as his lips spread into the smallest grin. “You won’t.” His grip slinks over to grab your hand, giving it a quick squeeze before dropping it entirely.

“Don’t tell Jayce about this.”

Christ, you can’t handle any more secrets.

Your eyebrows tilt up nervously as you nod, hoping that you could suddenly change his mind with the right look. Nope. 

“Please, at least go home and rest sometime tonight. I’ll be by in the morning to pick you up.” What else can you say? Maybe he’ll at least take that advice.

“I will.” He replies simply, turning back to the table. You stare at his back for a long moment, fists clenched at your sides as you accept your fate, turning on the ball of your foot to leave the way you came.

He must’ve gotten the Shimmer when you were in the undercity. How did you not notice?

…

The entire city is ablaze with talk of the bloodshed on the bridge last night.

You swear, you must be one of the first people to know, with how early Jayce wakes you. He’s shaking you to get dressed and the sun has barely begun to hit the high points of the tallest buildings. You assume he very briefly explains the situation to you, but your sleep fogged brain processes none of it.

As you begin to throw on the bare minimum clothing, you can hear him talking to someone in your living room. Throwing on a robe, you pad out of your room, finding him barely dressed himself, in a hushed conversation with an enforcer– one that you don’t recognize.

“--Is deceased on the scene.”

Uh oh.

You watch as Jayce’s expression falls, jaw slack in complete shock. He stumbles over his words for a moment as if all of the air had been knocked from his chest. “The Sheriff?”

Less of an uh oh.

“We suspect it’s the work of two rivaling undercity gangs, maybe a dispute over territory or goods.” The officer standing in your living room looks too frail and young to have the job he does and you can see the slight tremble in his stance.

As you slide further into the space, your partner finally notices you and relaxes the ever slightest when your hand lands on his lower back. “Are there any other victims?”

The man’s eyes fall to his feet, hands folded in front of him. “Only other officers. A whole squad, it seems– eleven total.”

You suppress a snort.

Jayce sighs heavily, one of his hands going to rest on his hip while the other palms his face.

“We need to get investigators out there, I need names.”

“Unfortunately…we have none at this time.” The enforcer speaks carefully as if he’s stepping around a sleeping beast, afraid to wake it from its slumber. You can assume Jayce is the beast in this situation.

Sensing your partner is about to mislay his frustrations, you step toward the man, wrapping your robe around your body tighter. Gods, you hate being awake this early. “Were there any witnesses?”

He seems to loosen up speaking with you, definitely less imposing than the fuming Councilor. “The Kiramman’s daughter was seen in the area around the same time, though we haven’t gotten the chance to speak with her yet. She was with another woman.” 

Caitlyn?

You can hear the lecturing now…

“Thank you, Officer Hendrix.” Jayce seems to have found himself again as he dismisses the man, turning his back to face the windows as the dawn streams in. 

Hendrix gives you a final nod before finding his way out, latching the front door shut behind him with a hushed click. You swivel to your partner, his white shirt wrapped snugly around his form. You can tell it’s the first thing he grabbed blindly in his haste, something that should’ve been thrown out when he turned 30.

You amble towards him, wrapping your arms around his middle to press soft kisses to the meat of his shoulder. Even with such shocking news, you can’t shake the drowsiness clinging to your eyelids.

He tilts his chin toward you, hands coming up to interlock his fingers over yours. “I need to get dressed and down there. I have to see it for myself.”

Your nose dips down to rest against him, humming in response half-heartedly. ‘Or, we could go back to bed and worry about it later.’ The voice inside your head whispers to you and you can’t deny it’s a great idea.

“Can you check in with Cait? See if she’s okay?” Yeah, if the enforcers don’t get to her first. You echo your sleepy hum and he squeezes you to get your attention. “Are you listening, or are you falling asleep?”

“I’m awake.”

“But are you listening?” 

A whine rises from your throat as your head lolls to the side. “You want me to go check on Sprout.”

“Ah, so she does have ears.” He teases and you pinch his side roughly, watching him squirm away from your grip. He goes to pinch you back but you leap away, backpedaling into the hallway. “Go get dressed.” He scolds lightly.

…

You might have to start carrying around an oxygen tank, all of this walking is brutal. The crisp, morning air feels like ice in your chest with every breath, but you try not to complain. At least you’re still breathing– with an unending coughing fit, but breathing.

Thankfully, you’re able to get into the Kiramman estate with no issues. Everyone knows you, by now. Or you hope, at least. You lived there for 3 years.

“Having to choose between a kingpin who wants to exploit them and a government that doesn’t give a shit!” Caitlyn’s voice is echoing off of the foyer walls, sat upon the couch as Tobias fiddles with something on her thigh. Or in her thigh.

She yelps out in pain at her father’s movements, a pair of scissors pressed to her skin and you can see the way Tobias flinches in worry.

“Caitlyn!” Cassandra scolds back, a cup of steaming tea poised in front of her.

At that moment, the door decides to slam shut behind you, the wind pulling it from your careful grasp. So much for making an undetected entrance.

All eyes shoot to you, head sunk into your shoulders like a teenager caught sneaking back into their home. The example isn’t far off, you technically do consider them your parents. “Sorry.” You squeak, lips pulling back to expose your clenched teeth.

“Saphyre.” Caitlyn sighs in relief and you can feel her beseeching stare, begging you to sway her mother’s opinion on a conversation you just walked into.

“Sprout.” You ignore the look, immediately approaching her side on the couch as you notice the slice in her right thigh. With her leg propped over her father’s, something metallic inside her skin glimmers in the light.

No one bothers to ask you why you’ve come and it’s too early to explain.

Cassandra sighs as she stirs her tea, expression twisting from anger to reluctant surrender. “I’ll schedule an audience.”

Caitlyn gasps, face falling of all ire. “Thank you.”

“You and your… friend can address the Council yourselves. I’d suggest you prepare accordingly.”

Whatever the discourse was, you’re proud knowing that Caitlyn actually gained ground over Cassandra. It’s not everyday that everyone can leave an argument unscathed with the woman.

The moment is broken as Tobias continues to pick at his daughter’s wound, delicately plucking what looks to be a wired wing from her tissue. He disposes of it on a metal tray upon the table, instantly going to grab a needle and medical-grade string. His hands are trembling.

“Here, let me.” You offer gently, giving him a tender smile. He returns the grin tightly, handing over his tools and helping you transfer Caitlyn’s leg to rest atop yours. You can feel her wince at the movement and you smooth your hand over her knee in a comforting fashion.

“Long night, huh?” You lightly jab, pushing away the torn fabric of her pants to get to work.

She huffs out the remnants of a laugh, hand coming up to rest on your shoulder for support. You can already feel how sore the muscle will be after you’ve finished with all the squeezing you’ll have to endure.

“You can say that.”

You join in on her laugh before the room falls silent, the family watching your every move as you thread the string through the eye of the needle, steady hands tying it off. It’s been a while since you’ve had to do this and you can only hope muscle memory will kick in.

You press the point into her flesh as she seethes, the first pinch of her grip hitting your shoulder.

The first few pass-throughs are hesitant, a little less than confident about your abilities, but you quickly gain traction. 

To your surprise, the process only takes a few minutes before you’re tying the string off, studying Caitlyn’s pained expression. Pulling out your handkerchief, you wipe the blood from your hands and around the stitching, careful with the amount of pressure you use.

You sigh absentmindedly, swiping your thumb across her face to rid of the ash lingering on her cheek. “I’ll get her cleaned up.” You announce to the room, listening to the combined hums of acknowledgement from the couple. 

Getting her up the grandiose staircase seemed easier in your mind, not so simple in action.

Between her groaning and your coughing, you’re sure a passerby wouldn’t be sure who was assisting who.

After what feels like 20 minutes, you deposit her in her bathroom, setting her down at the stool in front of her vanity. “Do I need to hold your hand while you bathe or will you survive on your own?”

She scoffs as her eyes roll over in her head and you take that as an answer, chuffing out a teasing laugh as you go to the shower, switching on the water. It’s the least you can do.

With a glance over your shoulder, she flips you the middle finger in average little sister fashion and you go to leave her be. What a little shit. Ah, you love her, though.

You can dig the details out of her later, she needs the quiet.

Trudging the few feet to her bedroom, your hand swipes down your face in an attempt to rid of the lingering drowsiness. Maybe you could squeeze a quick nap somewhere in your schedule, but you doubt it. Jayce will have you running rampant with him.

“Goddamn,” You huff, creaking open her door.

You can’t even take another step before someone is tugging your hands behind your back, pushing you against the nearest wall. Surprise stuns your body for a moment before your adrenaline kicks in, taking over. You twist to the side, gaining momentum to throw your elbow back into their ribs.

In the blink of an eye, you grab onto their wrist, knocking the heel of your boot into the back of their leg as they tumble to the carpet. Crooking their arm at an awkward angle above their back, you drop to your knee, grip twisting against their skin.

Wow, your muscle memory is really on its A-game today. Nothing like some good ol’ danger for your body to choose fight over flight.

They shriek in pain, the side of their face pressed into the floor and you can finally get a good look at them.

Bright pink hair swept to the side, pale blue eyes with scars streaking through her lip and eyebrow. She has roman numerals tattooed on her cheek. No, wait…

“Violet?”

Your grapple on her arm falters and she quickly flips over, taking your body with her as she switches your positions. A calloused hand wraps around your neck and you choke against the pressure, her other fist poised next to her head to strike.

Then, she registers the woman in front of her.

“Saphyre?”

Grip slipping away, she sits back on her heels as you shoot up to greet her, arms flying up around her neck in a tight hold. She hesitates to reciprocate the touch but, ultimately, falls into your embrace to tuck her face into the warmth of your neck. 

Your chest shudders with a subdued sob, palm coming up to cup the back of her head and she squeezes you with unbridled strength. You wheeze with a wet laugh, allowing her to do as she pleases as you rock your bodies side to side. Neither of you are ready to let go and you’re content to sit there all day, if need be.

“My Flower,” The nickname flows from your tongue like it never left your vocabulary, like you’re still a 15 year-old girl scooping her up into your arms. “I thought I lost you.” 

Tears begin to streak down your face and you can’t be bothered to wipe them away. You don’t care if she’s the one to see you cry– not with everything you’ve been through together. 

Christ, you’ve been crying a lot recently.

You can tell she’s sobbing from the hitch in her voice. “Fuck, I missed you, Phyre.” The collar of your sweater is beginning to soak through with tears and you don’t mind. Fuck literally everything else, right now. “Things have been so shit since you left.”

Preaching to the choir, Vi.

You can only imagine. Between losing Vander and being stuck in a concrete cell for the last 8 years…

“Wait– aren’t you supposed to be in Stillwater?” Gods, please don’t have escaped. You’re not ready to house a fugitive, you’ve already got enough going on in your household.

You pull away to look at her properly, holding her face between your hands, thumbs catching her tears as they slip from her eyes. Her eyebrows are turned upward mournfully and you just want to squeeze her– maybe tuck her into your pocket to shield her from the world.

“I got bailed out, I don’t know the whole story, honestly.”

Good enough for you, as long as she’s here legally.

“What are you doing here? Do you know Caitlyn?” A fair question but…a little hard to explain. ‘Yeah I moved up here and got adopted by this rich family so she’s like my little sister, now– to replace you and Powder.’ Sheesh.

You swipe the remaining tears from your cheeks before sliding your hands down to grip onto hers, noting the thick calluses on her palms. You’re a little afraid to ask how they got so dense.

You settle for the vaguest answer possible. Surely, there’d be time to explain later, when the girl is actually here to corroborate your story a little better. “I’ve known her parents since she was little. Watched her grow up.”

Yeah, that’ll do.

You watch Vi process the information, tears beginning to dry up now that the initial shock has passed through. She’s real, you’re real and you’re sitting in front of each other right now.

“Why was your first instinct to attack me?” You chuckle softly

She shrugs, the corners of her lips curling downward in that stupid, ‘I don’t know’ face. “I thought you were an intruder.”

“In a house full of servants and guards?”

A few emotions flash across her face before she settles on a scowl, but it’s too adorable for you to take seriously. “I should be mad at you, you know.” She reaches out, fingertips pressing into your sternum to push you weakly but you only swing back forward. The force caves in against your lungs and they constrict, throat spasming as you hack away.

The sudden attack has her reeling back and you quickly cover your mouth with the back of your hand, the other holding out a finger to ask for a moment. When it passes on, blood lingers on your skin.

“Ah, shit.” You roll your eyes, reaching into your front pocket for your handkerchief already stained with Caitlyn’s blood. Well, that definitely doesn’t look good.

“Is that blood?”

You wipe it away before swiftly shoving it back into your pants. “Yes and no. Some of the blood is Cait’s.” You pray she won’t say anything else on the subject but know that’s a pipedream. You see your sister for the first time in 16 years and you’re coughing up blood.

Yeah, you’d ask questions, too.

“Don’t tell me you’re dying, just when we find each other again.”

Surprise!

“I’m not dying,” The lie tumbles from your lips before you have the chance to stop it. “I’m just sick. Have been for a while.” For as long as you can remember, more like. The signs first began to show when she was still young.

“You’re lucky. Vander made sure the Council finished the ventilation systems in the undercity before you and Powder were even born. You never had to worry about The Grey.” 

It’s supposed to come off as a lighthearted joke, but you watch as her expression falls at her sister’s name. You can only assume Vi hasn’t gotten the chance to see her since she was released from Stillwater.

“Saphyre…” She swallows thickly, legs tucking into her chest to rest her elbows upon. Her hand clasps her other wrist, chin dipping forward. “Powder, she…” 

“Silco took her in, didn’t he?”

She nods slowly, hiding in the shadow of her own form. 

Silco adored the girls from the second they were born. He’d come to the bar to catch up with Vander and Felicia, play with the kids when he got the chance. He always took a shine to Powder, though. He was fascinated by her ability to make little gadgets from scraps– as soon as she could speak in complete sentences, she was also piecing together contraptions.

After the war and his falling out with Vander, he disappeared into the depths of the city.

So, with his best friend and Violet gone, you’re sure he crawled out of the shadows to stake claim of what he always yearned to be his.

“Things are so… fucked. Silco runs the lanes after he killed Vander and took her when I turned my back for a fucking second. And I’ve been stuck in that hell-hole for so long that I don’t even know who she is anymore.”

“So you’ve seen her?”

She looks up from her lap, fury ablaze in her eyes. “Silco brainwashed her! She goes by Jinx, now and has this…magical blue stone to buff her weapons–”

“The Gemstone.”

“--Sure. The whole thing on the bridge last night, it was a full on battle over it between her and Ekko.”

You recognize that name, don’t you? Your memories of life in Zaun are like a decrepit attic, covered in dust and cobwebs. “Isn’t that Benzo’s boy?”

She sighs, eyes downturned as if she’s also going down memory lane. “Yeah. Benzo died the same night as Vander.”

Well, fuck.

“Damn, I missed out on a lot of shit.”

“Nothing you would want to experience, trust me. Silco has all of his Shimmer bullshit and took over The Last Drop.” She explains and you nod, soothing over the ache in your sternum. And you thought you had it bad. Your issues might as well be a children’s book compared to hers– not to trauma compare, or anything.

Well, at least her respiratory system isn’t failing.

“I’m sorry about Vander, that must’ve been…really difficult to go through by yourself.” Your teeth catch on the gummy inside of your cheek, gaze falling down to your crossed feet as you pick at your shoelaces. “I should’ve been there.”

You don’t need to explain how that guilt eats at you almost everyday, you’re sure she already knows. You’d understand if she held a grudge against you, though.

There’s a somber moment of silence and you almost want to reach into the air to shove your words back down your throat. The elephant has been sitting in the room since the second you recognized one another, but the wound still feels fresh. You never processed it properly. You tried to run from it, saying you killed that girl ages ago and everything that was associated with it.

You can’t run from your past if it’s sitting right in front of you.

“He was your dad, too.”

Yeah, he was.

Vi begins to fish something out of pocket, struggling with the leather. “I’ve got something for you.” The blade glints in the pale morning light as she reveals a knife to you— your knife. The one Vander bought you as a gift for your 15th birthday.

“Where did you find this?” You gape, taking your old friend into your hands. It fits between your fingers like a glove.

You run your thumb over the handle, a varnished wood with the indentations of your fingers carved into it from the wear and tear of time. Slotting your pointer finger in the grip at base of the blade, you scratch the sharpened edge over the pad of your finger. Dull. Must’ve lost the sheath a while back.

“I’ve always had it. Noticed you left it behind right after you went topside. Dad had to stop me from bringing it back to you.”

Dad.

"I stashed it away at the bar and grabbed it the second I got back."

This knife has been through some shit, to say the least. It’s seen a bunch of random strangers' organs and faces, it’s cut your hair in a pinch and saved the lives of many (mostly your own).

You almost forgot the thing existed.

Your eyes rove over the carving on the handle, ‘Phyre’. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do with this, I’m an artist now.” You shrug, looking up from your blade to notice she’s already been staring at you with glassy eyes. A small grin spreads across her face and something warms in your chest. 

“All of these rich people love my work. Like,” You point to the portrait of Caitlyn beside her bed. It’s obvious it’s a few years old. “I painted that. Think I portrayed her resting bitch face pretty accurately.” 

Vi laughs and it’s like music to your ears– soft but rich at the same time, retaining the same youthful quality that takes you way back. Her laugh makes you laugh as always.

“The Kiramman’s really love my work, although I think they’re kind of obligated to.” Your paintings are also practically free for them, so they better love it. You’d have to start charging your regular prices.

She continues to study the portrait and there’s a soft glint in her eye that’s all too familiar.

That reminds you. “I’m also with two of the best scientists in the city–”

Suddenly, the bedroom door swings open and Caitlyn steps in with only a towel wrapped around her. She clutches the cloth close to her body, doing everything she can to keep herself as covered as possible.

Oh, yeah. You should’ve brought her extra clothes.

Oops.

She stops dead in her tracks, eyes flitting back and forth between you and Vi with wide eyes. She probably didn’t expect the two of you to meet, let alone already know each other.

“Am I interrupting?”

You have to hold back a laugh, finding it so endearing with how awkward she looks– hunched over to make herself seem as small as possible, knuckles turning white with how tightly she’s gripping her towel.

You shake your head casually, glancing back to Violet as you set the blade on the floor between your legs. “No, just catching up.” 

Caitlyn looks at you quizzically, turning to the other girl for an answer.

“Saphyre’s my sister.”

“Saphyre is my sister.”

Uh oh.

Both of them look at you incredulously and you scratch the back of your neck, looking around the room as if you weren’t a part of the conversation in the first place.

“Hello?” Vi’s the first to speak up, nudging your shin with her boot.

You sigh, head rolling over on your shoulders before you hold out your hands palms up, taking in a breath to explain. Nothing is in your brain. You snap your mouth shut.

“She moved in with us when I was seven. She was a teeanger at the time, so I’m assuming you knew her when she still lived in the undercity.” See, you knew she’d be able to explain it better. You don’t even have to talk! 

Vi’s mouth shifts into an ‘o’ shape, nodding her head as everything clicks together. “I grew up with her. She was there when I was born.”

What is this, a ‘Who’s been with Saphyre the longest?’ competition? If it is, they’re even, 16 and 16. What a coincidence.

“Just found out she’s the most available bachelorette in Piltover, apparently.” The younger girl scoffs, jutting a thumb towards your direction. “She’s dating ‘two of the best scientists in the city’.”

“What?”

Right. Caitlyn doesn’t know about that.

“Speaking of–” You interrupt that conversation before it can even start because you definitely can’t explain that. “You know that apartment you robbed when you were a kid? That's my apartment that I share with one of them.” Anything to get the focus off of you.

“That was you?” Without a beat, Caitlyn switches her focus to Vi next to you and she looks a little hot under the collar– well, if she had a collar on. You’re surprised she hasn’t gone to get dressed by now.

Vi completely ignores the comment, focus unwavering from you. “That was your apartment?”

Goddamnit, pay attention to someone else!

Caitlyn finally meanders further into the room to properly join the conversation but stops a few feet away from where you sit on her floor. Thank the Gods, you do not want to see under her towel. “That almost killed Jayce, by the way.”

“Who’s Jayce?”

“Her boyfriend, apparently.” The older girl points a finger at you.

Your lips press into a thin line. “I prefer ‘partner’, thank you very much.”

They both roll their eyes in unison and it’s almost comical. Now that they’re both in the same room, you realize how similar they truly are. Did you have a type in little sisters?

“Anyway, it’s fine. Everything turned out better than expected.” Did Jayce almost get exiled? Yes, but Viktor’s timing was impeccable and now they’re the most successful people in Piltover.

“I went to prison, Phyre.” Vi points out roughly, emphasizing her point with a nod of her head.

So maybe not everything.

Caitlyn finally wanders off to her dresser, digging through her drawers as she picks out random articles of clothing. “Yeah and who let you out?” She almost purrs and you reel back. The glare Vi returns is heated in a way that leaves tension hanging in the room.

Oh?

Oh. Yep, no doubt about it.

You love them both dearly, but you shouldn’t stay in the room any longer. Don’t get it wrong, you love it, support it, endorse it but…

You better get going.

“Okay,” You draw out the vowel as you shoot up from your spot on the carpet, startling both of them. “I have assistant duties to attend to, so I’ll leave the two of you to it.” 

Leaning down to swipe a hand over Violet’s hair, you place a kiss on her temple. “See you later, Flower. I’ll come find you soon so we can catch up more.” You ruffle her pink strands and she takes it with a nod, swiping up your knife to hand to you.

You go to where Caitlyn stands in front of her dresser, giving her the same treatment. “Be safe, Sprout. And, please, put on clothes.” You can feel her eye roll and you slap her where her stitches are still settling in. She yelps in pain and you laugh her off.

“Sprout?” Vi teases with a chuckle.

“Flower isn’t any better.” The older girl shoots back.

Shutting the door with a smile, you check your watch. ‘8:07 am’. 

Today’s going to be long. But at least it’s off to a good start.

…

Your coughing enters the lab with you as you swing open the door, finding Jayce on the couch with a stack of papers in his hand and Viktor sitting upon a stool in front of the chalkboard. Fuck, you were supposed to pick him up this morning!

“Shit– Vik, I’m sorry. This morning has been so crazy that I completely forgot to stop by your place.” You study him from afar, searching for any obvious signs of change or fuck-ups. Though, he was working on his leg, so any modifications would be hidden under his pants. 

“I ran into my sister and got too caught up.” You approach his side, wrapping a hand around the far side of his head to bring his temple to your lips. He hums in response to your touch.

You hear Jayce flip through his papers, diverting his attention to your arrival. “How is Sprout?” 

You sigh, letting go of Viktor to saunter toward the other man. Dropping your bag at your feet, you recline into the cushions next to him before skimming over the files in his hands. They’re investigation notes of Zaun.

“She’s fine, just a little beat up.” Marcus’s name is scratched onto almost every sheet. Hm. “But I was talking about my other sister. From the undercity.”

Jayce’s brows furrow as he completely forgets the notes, turning his chin to you. You can see even Viktor is swiveling around on his stool.

“You have another sister?”

“Well, technically two other sisters.” Now may not be the best time to mention Powder– Jinx. You’re definitely a conflict of interest in the whole situation, but it was never your job to get involved with the investigation in the first place. “From when I was a kid.”

The younger man sets his work aside when you refuse to look away from it. You finally draw your eyes to him. “Why haven’t you mentioned them before?”

Because they were the kids that robbed our house and almost got you exiled. Because one has been in prison for the last 8 years and the other turned out to be a criminal mastermind, who also happens to now be a murderer.

“It…never really came up.” You try to shrug and Viktor throws you a knowing look, one of his eyebrows raising into his forehead.

Maybe you’d tell them one day. It would only complicate things further right now.

“How is she, then?” The older man speaks up and you’re surprised they’re so interested. Talk of families is never traded around here much, Viktor having none to speak of, Jayce only really having his mother, and, well, you keep a lot of things close to your chest.

You lean back into the couch, a small smile spreading across your lips. “She’s…good, a lot older now. The last time I saw her was when she was seven, so she’s really changed.” It’s almost relieving to talk about Vi.

So relieving that you can’t help but ramble on. “Like, she’s different but still her at the same time. Talking to her made me realize how much I missed out on in the last sixteen years.”

Jayce whistles at the timeline. “You’ve really lived here for sixteen years?” 

“I’ve known you for fourteen,” You glance at him before turning to Viktor. “And you for over eight years.”

Gods, you feel old. You are old.

“Well, I’m glad you got to catch up, baby.” Jayce leans into you, stroking over your hair as he places a kiss upon your cheekbone. Before he can pull back, you turn to capture his lip in yours. The sensation warms your heart and a sense of familiarity washes over you. It’s been far too long since you’ve been able to do that.

You hear metal creak across the room and pull away, motioning for Viktor to come over. “C’mon, gotta make sure you get equal treatment.”

He gives you a look that says, ‘I’m not getting up’. 

Fine, you can work with that.

Standing up with a huff, you go over to his spot in front of the board, dragging him by the seat of the stool to the couch. Steadying him across from Jayce and your empty seat, you settle back in. 

“Do I get my kiss now?” 

He gives you a few emotionless blinks, deadpanning but unsurprised by your redundant efforts. Sure, it’s a little unnecessary but you want to prove a point– though you’re not entirely sure what that point is.

“If I do, will you leave me to my work?” Viktor’s eyebrows raise in an unimpressed fashion and you can feel Jayce trying to suppress a laugh next to you.

“Yes.”

He sighs before leaning down and you meet him halfway, straightening up to reach him properly. You can tell he was only expecting a peck but you reach up to cup his cheek, keeping him close until you feel satiated. It takes almost an entire minute before you’re satisfied. 

When he pulls back, his cheeks are lightly dusted with pink, breath coming in small puffs. It’s not easy to fluster Viktor, but it seems as if you’ve caught him off guard.

“Now, your turn.” You motion between the two men and Jayce goes stiff on the cushions, a blush slowly rising to match Viktor’s.

He stammers for a moment, sputtering over a multitude of sounds with wide eyes as he stares at you before finally finding a coherent sentence. “Saph, I don’t think–”

“What? Do you need me to turn away or something?”

“No, it’s just that we’ve never…before.” The younger man’s eyes shoot to his partner’s for support but find that the man is frozen, an expression that you’ve never seen plastered on. Something between shock and embarrassment.

Now that you really think about it, you never actually have seen them kiss before. Maybe you just assumed they did it when you weren’t around.

Oh my Gods, they are so helpless.

And cute.

“You’re kidding.” You stutter out a laugh but quickly clear your throat, noticing that the situation is not as humorous to the rest of the room. “Well, there’s no time better than the present. Better late than never, or whatever the saying is.”

They both stare at you. Then turn to each other. After a moment, Viktor begins to feel the pressure and averts his eyes to the floor. “You’re seriously going to sit there and watch?”

Duh. What kind of question is that?

You’d think that they were teenagers with how shy they’re acting.  Aren’t they supposed to be grown men? “It’s just a kiss. If you guys are gonna start going at it, I can give you some privacy–”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.” The older man groans, holding out a hand to stop you in your place. You can’t help but snicker.

Jayce is practically buzzing with anxiety next to you and you give him a comforting, but gawky pat to his shoulder. He’s warm to the touch. “It’s not like you haven’t kissed someone before. It’s just Vik.” He nods, swallowing thickly.

His calloused hand reaches out to grasp Viktor’s slender one, chin tilting upward to gaze upon his beauty. “Is this okay?”

You shiver.

His voice is hushed, soft and intimate.

Viktor’s eyes fix onto their conjoined hands, a nod slowly gaining momentum in his head. “Yes.”

Both of their eyes flicker to each other's lips and something in the back of your mind is screaming, all giddy.

As if in slow motion, their faces creep closer before their noses are almost touching, stopping to share a breath. There’s no going back. Viktor leans all the way in first, brushing his lips against Jayce’s lightly as if to test the waters and the taller man quickly returns his affections, falling into the rhythm.

It starts as a single kiss, slow and saccharine as they get comfortable with the feeling. After a minute, the ease away from each other, lips parting with a small smacking noise and you realize you’re biting your lip. You retract your teeth.

Their foreheads press together as they catch their breaths, a grin spreading across Jayce’s face. It’s soon followed by a quiet laugh. 

In a second, he throws caution to the wind, rolling Viktor’s stool back as he stands to take the older man’s face in his hands. Without any caveat, Jayce is capturing his lips with more fervor, standing between his spread legs. A small moan rises from Viktor’s throat and the other man responds with his own whine.

Heat licks in your belly.

You just found your new kink.

Hot breaths are exchanged and they barely pull away for air, more small noises escaping that only feeds the fire in you. You watch as Viktor presses his tongue into Jayce’s mouth and you almost fall back into the couch.

Christ, why haven’t they done this sooner? It’s obvious there’s been a fuck ton of tension building up– probably for the last 8 years.

After what feels like an eternity, Jayce pulls away and you can see the lust lingering in his half-lidded eyes. You try to ignore the business going on in his pants. Viktor is practically glowing, a flush beginning to rise up his neck and you want to kiss the warm skin there. Maybe the three of you shouldn’t be getting so worked up in the lab.

“Yeah, you definitely needed that.” You tease lightly and Jayce chuckles deeply (sexily), giving the other man a parting peck before finding his place back on the couch. He unbuttons his collar before reaching down to adjust his pants.

You and Viktor share a look.

“I think I can get through today, now.” Jayce sighs, promptly returning to his papers with a reserved smirk and you itch to kiss it away.

Seriously, do you need to go take a cold shower?

Viktor clears his throat, blinking away his haze and he tries to subtly adjust his pants as well. He catches your gaze and you squint your eyes, mouthing ‘I saw that’. Of course, he ignores you, sliding off of the stool to return to the chalkboard.

“So,” You draw out the vowel with an innocent tone, leaning into the large man next to you. “What are we looking at?”

Jayce not so subtly holds the stack of papers over his lap. “Marcus’s old notes from the investigations of the undercity over the past year.” He tilts the file toward you, finger pressed to a name written in ink. “Do you know this… Silco?” 

You had hoped you would never have to answer this question.

“Uh, sort of.” A lie. “He’s one of the better known names down there, helped in the liberation of getting Piltover to stop breathing down our necks.” Now turned crimelord.

 
“He’s mentioned a few times here but everything’s pretty vague, considering that he’s a factory owner.” Yeah, of Shimmer. “But, it seems that Marcus had made a pact with some of the leaders down there.” He muses, hand coming up to stroke at his smooth chin.

Don’t say anything. It’s not your investigation, you’re just an assistant.

“Well, maybe you can mention it at the Council meeting at…” You raise yourself from the cushions, going to his timesheet on the workbench. “Six o’clock.” Cassandra is on her game as always, making sure the issue can be addressed as soon as possible. 

You wish you could find a way to sneak in, be there to support the two girls. It’s not exactly easy to state your argument to a room full of naysayers. At least Jayce will be there.

You quickly glance at your watch before going to scan over the rest of his schedule. “Oh, and don’t forget that we have a Noxus ambassador visiting, so you’ll need to meet with them sometime today. Preferably before noon.”

You aren’t quite sure what a Noxian is doing in Piltover, today of all days, but the request has been put into his timetable in unfamiliar handwriting. Ambessa?

He hums inattentively, laser focused on the files.

“And the fundraiser tomorrow night. We’re required to stay for a few hours at least.”

No answer.

You sigh, going back to pluck the papers from his hand and that gets his attention. “Please, go speak with that ambassador, they’ve specifically requested you.”

“Fine.” He heaves himself to his feet, swinging his blazer off of the back of the cough to shoulder on. “Can you continue looking at those? Maybe make a few notes for me?” His fingers fumble with the buttons on his coat and you tuck the paperwork under your arm, stepping forward to help him.

“I’ll get something worked up for you to look at when you get back.”

As if in thanks, he tilts down to kiss your forehead. “Wish me luck.”

“Good luck, Councilor Talis.” You purr, guiding his lips to yours before he can pull away and you try not to linger in the feeling for too long. He gives you a genuine smile before turning.

Jayce promptly goes to Viktor’s side, lifting the shorter man’s chin to capture his mouth, a more chaste display of affection. “I should be back soon, but I’ll let you know if plans change.”

Atta boy.

…

At the end of the day, you wait until Viktor calls it before leaving the lab, parting ways outside of the building. You tried to insist that you walk with him but he assures you he can make it just fine by himself, saying, ‘It would put an unnecessary strain on your lungs. You need to start pacing yourself on the physical exertion.'

As much as you hate to admit it, he has a point.

Not one that you’re willing to accept just yet.

So you head off to the Councilor’s meeting house, lungs heaving all the way there. When you stop to rest against one of the light poles, you notice the swaying rain clouds, seeming to become heavier by the minute.

You can feel the first droplets of rain on your skin and go to hide under the awning in front of the meeting house, just barely outrunning the full downpour.

Hopefully the meeting outlasts the storm so you’re not walking home like a wet dog. Though, you’re sure Jayce would find a way to cover you from the rain and take the brute force of it.

If all goes well, you could even stop Violet and Caitlyn for a chat while you wait for the man.

15 minutes pass and you finally decide to hunker down on the dry stone, pulling out your knife to observe it closer. The handle is a little creaky and busted up but you’re sure Viktor could fix that for you. Maybe he could whip you up a sheath, as well.

Another 10 minutes.

Then, the doors are swinging open and Vi is storming through. “Hey, Flower–” You clamber to your feet but she continues on without giving you a glance, skipping steps as she rushes down the stairs. Caitlyn is just behind her, almost skipping past you, too, but she gives you a double take.

Her expression is… troubled.

You step forward but she turns away, charging down the stairs to follow the younger girl with an arm raised to shield herself from the downpour.. “Vi! Wait!” Forgetting the rain, you drop the knife into your bag and follow them. “Wait! Where are you going?”

Violet doesn’t bother to turn around, continuing forward with her gaze focused on the ground, pink strands flattening against her head. “I don’t know. Back where I came from?” She’s pissed. “Seems like that’s what everyone up here wants.”

Of course the Council refused to listen to a Zaunite.

“I can fix this–”

“You can’t!” She finally turns toward Caitlyn, face twisted in resentment. You stop in your tracks just a few steps behind the taller girl, taken aback by Vi’s ire. “This is how things are. How they’ve always been. I was so stupid to think it could change.”

You feel like you’ve heard this monologue before. Probably the same speech you lamented many years ago to Jayce. Even topside, you still feel the oppression.

“There must be something else we can do– some other way.” Caitlyn’s arms reach out to the other girl as she looks to the ground, hands propped on her hips. “We’ll make a new plan. We have to try.”

It takes everything in you not to butt into the conversation but you really get no chance with how heated they’re going back and forth.

You knew you should’ve found a way to sneak into the meeting.

“We tried. Okay? It wasn’t enough.” Vi’s hair is plastered to the side of her face, sticking uncomfortably to her eye and cheek. “Topside and bottom. Oil and water. That’s all there is.” She turns to the side, rivulets of water dripping from her nose.

“What about us?”

A moment of silence passes as rain patters down upon you and the younger girl’s expression falls. You can feel her words before she speaks them and you almost want to beg her to not make the wrong decision here.

“Oil and water.” She can’t reach Caitlyn’s eyes. “It wasn’t meant to be.”

“Violet,” You step forward to stop her as she goes to leave.

Her chin barely turns over her shoulder, hands shoved into her jacket pockets. “Don’t even bother, Saphyre. It was a lost cause from the beginning.” Without another word, she lifts her hood onto her head, wandering down the dark street.

The two of you watch her go before Caitlyn is sighing, twisting around to face you. Her eyes are downturned, crestfallen by the turn of events.

“C’mere, Sprout.” You hold out your arms and she ambles into your chest, arms wrapping around her thin form. You’re both soaked to the bone, not even realizing how cold you had become until you’re sharing her warmth.

You reach up to stroke her drenched strands, rocking back and forth until she’s ready to let go.

Her water lines are brimming with red when you face her again and you grasp onto her icy hands. “What happened in there?”

“Vi explained that Jinx has the Gemstone and Jayce wants to go in by force. He’s basically suggesting that we start a war.”

What?

“Councilor Medarda believes that we should cut a deal with Silco. Vi knows he can’t be negotiated with and became upset, so we were kicked out.” Wow, suddenly Mel is against war and bloodshed? All it took was for a couple of enforcers to die?

You nod slowly, trying to withhold your anger on Jayce’s suggestion.

On one hand, you see Violet’s side. You know Silco. He’s built up such a deep resentment for Piltover and the Council over the years that nothing will stop him from knocking a few of them down. Negotiation or not, he will get what he wants.

On the other hand, war would mean the death of many innocents. Good, honest Zaunites that have nothing to do with the discourse but are forced to be thrusted into the middle of it. They have no enforces or soldiers, regular citizens would be expected to take up arms.

You think of Felicia and Connel.

“Cut a deal with Silco? What does that mean?”

“Give Zaun their independence. All he’s ever wanted is to be separated completely and be released from the Council’s leash.”

A fair ask, at first glance. In reality, he’d become a dictator. Shimmer and crime would run rampant in the streets– more than it is already.

You sigh and can feel Caitlyn begin to shiver, looking like a wet dog with the way her hair is clinging to her forehead. “I’ll talk to Jayce and see what I can do. Get yourself home and into some warm clothes before you catch a cold.” You wave your head to the side, giving her hands a squeeze before dropping them entirely.

“What would I do without you?” She huffs out a small laugh, wrapping her arms around herself to retain some heat.

You match her chuckle, swiping your dripping strands away from your eyes. “You’d be just fine. Now go.” You pat the side of her arm, nudging her into the right direction before she tries to object. 

“And change out those wet bandages on your leg!” You call after her, watching her slowly disappear into the darkness.

So much for staying out of the rain.

You saunter back toward the meeting house, coughing into your closed fist as the storm finally begins to let up, drops slowing to a sluggardly pace before becoming a drizzle. Under the awning, you attempt to shake off the excess water dribbling from your skin so you can slide your bag on without soddening it.

Time to return to waiting. Though, not for long.

Jayce appears in a flurry after a few minutes, fingers already pinching the bridge of his nose. You clear your throat to grab his attention. “Saphyre?”

You wipe droplets of water from your eyes, stepping out of the shadows.

“Baby, you’re soaked.” He points out and you wring out the bottom of your shirt, water splattering into a puddle at your feet. You’re sure you look quite pitiful in your dripping form and you try to suppress a shiver. Your attempts are futile.

He’s quick to slide off his blazer, wrapping it around your shoulders tightly. “Come here.” He pulls you into his chest, rubbing up and down your back to create warmth with the friction. “You didn’t have to wait for me.”

Oh, you know.

You still accept his touch because, fuck, he is warm. Neither of you seem to care if your clothes are soaking his.

“Let’s get you home so you can warm up.”

As you walk, you’re still debating your feelings on the meeting’s findings. You could be angry about his suggestions to take up arms but he was ultimately overruled, and you’re honestly tired of being angry. Maybe you’ve grown too complacent.

Wanting to start a war definitely isn’t in his top 10 best ideas but you can understand his frustrations. He doesn’t understand what it’s really like to live in the undercity. He only wants to protect his people, just like Vi wants to protect hers.

“You can’t negotiate with Silco.” You keep your head down as you speak, watching your feet as your soggy socks squelch against the soles. “But you can’t start another war. It won’t solve anything. There has to be some other solution.”

By your side, Jayce sighs. “You talked to Caitlyn.”

“And Vi.”

Silence claims the air as you finish your first block of many on the way home.

“I thought you didn’t know much about Silco.”

I lied.

Your breath hitches in your lungs and you try to ignore the itch in your throat. “There’s…a lot of things that I haven’t told you.” You keep quiet, hoping he’ll either shut you down or change the topic so you won’t have to actually talk about it. Lady Luck had never been on your side.

Where to start?

“After my mother died when I was young, I ended up being taken in by some of her friends that worked with her in the mines; Felicia, Vander…and Silco.” Their names taste sour on your tongue and it makes you cringe. “Vander and Silco shared this dream of Zaun’s independence and became some sort of unspoken leaders. I was young then, so some of the details are blurry.”

“But, they were like my parents, especially Vander. He taught me everything I know, was really supportive of my art and everything. When I was ten, Felicia had her first daughter and another a few years after that; Violet and Powder. Or as you know her, Vi.”

Maybe you shouldn’t bring up Jinx. That will get complicated.

“Anyway, after putting up with Piltover’s bullshit for so many years, they finally became fed up and led a revolt on the connecting bridge between the two cities. From what I remember hearing, Silco misplaced his throw with a molotov and…enforcers finished off Felicia and her husband.”

You glance at Jayce to make sure he’s still listening and can only assume so with the way his gaze is fixed on the stone below him. Good enough.

“One thing leads to another and Vander tried to kill Silco– slashed his eye and tried to drown him, I think. Everything went to shit so quickly and that’s when I knew I had to get out of there. From then on, you know the story of me.”

“I went to visit from time to time and Vander continued on as Zaun’s leader without Silco. He took in Vi and Powder, some other orphans that I can’t remember their names.”

“When we got robbed, those kids…” Fuck, how do you say this? “They were Vi and Powder. They had to have been tipped about the stones you had and took the opportunity. Classic undercity kids, dirty little thieves that cause nothing but trouble.” You assume that’s what he’s thinking.

He takes in a breath to speak and you cut him off quickly.

“And before you say anything, Vi served eight years in Stillwater for it, so ‘justice’ was served, or whatever.”

His mouth snaps shut.

“But, enforcers were on every doorstep in Zaun, which eventually led them to Vander. He’d do anything for his kids.” You swallow the lump in the back of your throat. “I’m not exactly sure how, but Silco ended up getting involved and killed Vander. Vi was taken by enforcers before she could stop him from taking Powder.”

That about sums it up, right?

You watch as Jayce processes the information, cogs twisting on their axles as everything filters through. “Where’s Powder now?” 

That’s kind of a loaded question. You’re not entirely sure, but you know it’s definitely somewhere unfavorable.

“I…don’t really know. I haven’t been exactly looking for her over the years. The only reason I found Vi again is because of Caitlyn.” And thank the Gods for that. You’re honestly a little more than glad that you found your less-psychotic sister first.

He nods contemplatively and you notice that you’re only a block away from home.

“Silco is at the top of the food chain down there. He oversees all of the Shimmer production and has to have a fully fleshed out group of lackeys by now.”

You can see your building at the end of the street and you rub your knuckles into your sternum, finally conscious of the burn in your chest once more. A wheeze lingers in your throat with every breath you take in. Almost there.

Out of the corner of your eye, Jayce runs a hand through his hair, mouth opening and closing as he fights with his words. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

Another loaded question.

You don’t consider yourself to be a secretive person, nor are you ashamed of your past. Like you said, with all of the things you went through as a child, you tried to throw away that version of yourself when you moved topside.

If you suppress the memories and act like they never happened, they’d go away, right?

Definitely not as simple as it sounded.

“My past is… fucked up, Jay. It’s so full of death and struggle that I try not to go down memory lane. And now, with everything going on, I’m tied to literal criminals that I used to love and care for. It’s too much of a moral dilemma and…I can’t get involved.” 

You adjust his coat around your shoulders. “I can’t have people knowing that this is what you’re attached to. It’s already enough with both Viktor and I being from the undercity.”

Approaching your apartment building, Jayce stops just before the front doors, effectively halting your movements.

“If people dislike me because of who I choose to lay with, then so be it. Your past makes you who you are, Saph, and I have no room to be judging that. If you care about it, I care about it. If you want to forget it all, let’s do it. You are my number one.”

You could cry at that.

You stand there with widened eyes, astounded by his blatant declaration of undying devotion. If Jayce Talis is anything, it’s devoted.

Your feet are moving before you can think, throwing yourself into his arms to capture his lips in yours. You try to express every ounce of adoration and dedication you have for him in the action, tugging him down by the neck to reach you.

His hands naturally find their place on your waist, pressing the cold fabric to your already chilled skin. 

Ah, who cares? You’re kissing the man you love.

…Love.

“What did I do to deserve you?” You hum against him, nosing his jaw to nuzzle into his warmth.

He chuckles deeply, leaning into your touch. “I ask myself the same question everyday.”

You spend a good few moments in each other’s embrace before a gust of wind is sending a shiver down your spine. He squeezes your hips. “Let’s get you upstairs.” Nodding slightly, you give him a final chaste kiss, sliding your hand down his wrist to wrap around yours.

…

“What does it feel like?” Your fingers lightly graze over the purple scarring on Viktor’s leg, holding up his pant leg to caress the back of his calf. It feels like warm metal against your skin.

He’s watching you closely, legs hanging off of the side of his bed as you’re kneeled below him. “Like nothing.” His fingers twitch in his lap and you knock your temple into his opposite leg, settling your head next to his hands.

One of them comes up to pet through your hair– he’s lucky you haven’t done it yet. “You can’t feel anything?” He shakes his head slowly and you hum in response, letting his pant leg fall back into place. He continues his movements and you begin to stroke his non-mechanical leg so he can feel your touch.

“Where is Jayce?”

“He told me he’ll meet us there. Said he had some things to take care of beforehand.”  You place a kiss to the inside of Viktor’s knee, standing from your place on the floor with a small pop of your knees.

You turn to his dresser on the nearest wall, sliding his dress shirt off of the hanger carefully as to avoid wrinkling it. You spent about 30 minutes pressing it yourself.

You motion for him to stand. “Let’s see your new leg do its thing.” With such a rigid surface and ornate design, the thing better give him the support he needs to stand on his own, at least. With a small wobble, he makes it to his feet, stabilizing himself on his mattress for only a moment.

Then, he’s standing on his own.

Maybe the Hexcore isn’t as bad as it seems. If it can perform a miracle like this, you can only imagine what else it can do.

Motioning for him to hold out his arms, you slide on the sleeves of the button-up and he huffs in irritation. “I can dress myself, you know.”

“I’m not doing this for you, I’m doing this because I want to. Big difference.” Leave it to Viktor to always accuse you of coddling him. You ignore the roll of his eyes, tugging the shoulders of the shirt to fit his form. Then, you start to clasp the buttons, top to bottom.

You can feel his gaze on you as you work.

“I don’t want to see you rolling up these sleeves tonight. It’s a formal event, Vik.” You make it about halfway down before he’s wrapping a slender hand around your hip, thumb passing over the waistband of your pants as it moves up and down.

You give him a small laugh, smoothing down to the final button. “What are you doing?” Your tone is a little incredulous but you give in, nevertheless, hands traveling back up his chest when your work is done.

He gives you a small shrug, mirroring his hold on the other side of your hip with his eyes stuck on your lips. “Nothing. Continue on.”

His heart is thumping steadily under your palm and you give into his unspoken desires, leaning in to press a kiss to his awaiting lips. Though full of adoration and longing, you keep it relatively quick. The party begins in just over an hour and you haven’t even begun to get ready yourself.

“As tempting as it is, I still need to dress and fix myself up–”

“Promise me that you’ll take care of Jayce when I’m gone.”

…I’m sorry?

“What?” He holds you steady as you almost reel back, your mouth dropped open with widened eyes. He wants to bring this up now, of all times?

Viktor’s eyes won’t meet yours as his thumbs continue to stroke over your waist, suddenly finding the fabric of your top all too interesting. “He’s going to need someone to keep him grounded. Someone to be there for him and his work.”

Does he think that Jayce will be the only person who will care if he dies?

“What about me? Who will be there for me?” You sink down slightly to force yourself into his eyeline, tipping his chin upward with the pads of your fingers.

“Jayce. You will always have each other.”

Oh, Gods. Not this shit again.

You’ve always known there has been a bitterness coming from Viktor, having known the both of you for a shorter amount of time than you have each other. As if either of you could perceive the older man as ‘excess baggage’ or a third wheel to your relationship.

In all reality, things hadn’t progressed between you and Jayce until Viktor came into the picture. Though, it may have come from a place of jealousy on your part in the very beginning.

You definitely had felt threatened by Viktor’s constant presence and grasp he had on the other man’s attention. Plus, he’s attractive. Anyone would feel threatened.

“And then, I’ll die a few months after you.” He stares at you blankly, movements stilling on your hips. Seems you’ve finally befuddled him. “Let’s not do this right now, Vik.” Or ever. “I’m really looking forward to tonight and I don’t want to ruin it by thinking about that stuff.”

After a moment, he concedes with a nod, leaning back in to give you a chaste kiss. You accept it gladly, cupping his angular cheekbones.

Stepping away, you point to the tie and waistcoat on the top of his dresser. “Since you want to whine about me helping you.” You give him a soft chuckle that quickly devolves into a coughing fit and you turn to the side, trying to avoid splattering blood on anything but yourself.

Digging into your front pocket for your handkerchief, you wipe the back of your hand before gesturing to the enclosed hanger on the door to his closet. “I’m going to get dressed. I trust you’ll behave yourself?”

Viktor’s shoulders shrug upwards as a smirk spreads across his lips.

Little shit.

…

Even though you were a part of some of the preparations for the fundraiser, you failed to remember it would take place in an open rooftop space. The cold breeze filtering in the room seems to be taunting your uncovered skin. You should’ve brought a jacket, a shawl– something.

Jayce has offered his suit jacket multiple times and you’ve refused every time. While you don’t mind being seen in his clothing, you fear he’d lose the perception of professionalism without the full suit. 

You’ve denied Viktor’s waistcoat, as well. This is one of the very few times that he’s agreed to wear the full getup and you will not be jeopardizing that.

You can power through.

For the first hour, you shadowed both Jayce and Viktor in their greetings and conversations, only speaking up when spoken to. Surprisingly, even with your status as a successful artist, few people recognize you. Even if you’ve worked on a portrait for almost every person in the room.

Rich people.

After making your rounds throughout the entire room, folks know you to be Jayce’s assistant (and artist, after passive-aggressively pointing out some of them have a painting of yours somewhere in their estate). While the two scientists were busy with other guests, people would approach you to speak about Hextech and how they could invest in such work.

By hour 2, you want to slam your head repeatedly into the stone wall. Majority of the time, people would speak over you or completely interrupt you mid-sentence, seemingly almost purposefully. You’re not the one with your name and face plastered on every billboard, so who cares what you have to say?

Not to mention how…shifty Jayce has been all night. Since the moment he stepped through the door, he’s been stiff and oddly curt with his words. He definitely doesn't want to be here, either.

By 9:00pm, you’re out on the balcony with a glass of wine in hand. Cold be damned, you cannot stand to spend another second surrounded by rich laughs and judgeful stares. 

Is it your outfit? You thought it to be rather nice, almost feeling overdressed until seeing everyone’s wealthy attire. Perhaps it’s too scandalous? The neckline does plunge down pretty deeply–

Oh, right. Your scar.

It doesn’t see the light of day often and you tend to almost forget it even exists. Even after all of these years, it still looks quite gruesome.

Well, whatever. It’s your body, your trauma. If they can’t stand to see it, then they should avert their eyes. It’s uncomfortable knowing that people’s eyes are drawn there in the first place. But not unexpected.

You rest your elbows on the balcony’s railing, staring out into the city skyline paled in the moon’s light. Taking another swig of your wine, you try to will time to move faster so you can finally get out of here. As his lovely assistant, you aren’t allowed to leave until Jayce does.

But, that doesn’t necessarily mean that you have to mingle for the time being.

You’ve become discouraged from conversation with all of the condescending remarks and treatment as the Councilor’s subordinate. By the 20th time that Jayce introduced you as his assistant, you wanted to rip your skin off.

You can’t put all the blame on him, people in this city perceive advisers in a certain light. But, you’re sure your irritation isn’t hard to notice, so the least he can do is show you off as his partner– even a work partner, who cares?

But, no. Little assistant. Helper. Secretary. Aide.

Just get through the night, Saphyre.

The click of heels on the stone behind you draws your mind to the present and you turn your chin over your shoulder to get a look, expecting to be met with Mrs.Kiramann.

There stands Mel Medarda, glass in hand and looking absolutely stunning, as always. She’s dressed to the 9’s and then some, but it’s to be expected of someone from such a high position of power.

“Saphyre.” She greets you kindly, continuing her path to settle in next to you on the railing.

“Councilor Medarda.” You return softly, pushing away the anger boiling in the pit of your stomach, Be respectful. Be demure. You’re only an assistant.

She huffs out a casual laugh, waving you off with her free hand. “Please, we’re well past that. Call me Mel.”

All of this time, you’ve been addressing her by her full title in fear of overstepping the line of class and ranking. Even with your fiery grudge, she has the means to send you back to the undercity with nothing but the clothes on your back if she pleases.

The thought almost makes you shudder.

No wonder Jayce kissed her– she’s a woman of wealth and power, holding herself to a high standard of opulence and grace. In all honesty, if you were in his place, you’d kiss her as well.

Maybe that’s the inferiority complex speaking.

You have a lot of reasons to feel inferior tonight.

“Mel.” You hum sweetly, swallowing down the lump in the back of your throat as it threatens to gag you.

The both of you stand, looking into the night sky with a lingering, somewhat awkward silence. It feels like there’s an elephant in the room but you just can’t seem to put your finger on it.

“So,” Her pointer finger comes up to rub on the rim of her glass, crimson swirling around. The color is similar to that of what comes out of your chest on the daily. “You and Jayce, hm?”

You visibly deflate.

Really? That’s the first topic of choice?

Throwing back the rest of the liquid in your glass, you stand up to your full height while clearing your throat. “Yeah. We’re…together.” What else does she want you to say? ‘I know you kissed him.' or ‘Back off, he’s mine.’ Though, the latter does sound rather appealing.

Be modest, Saphyre.

“He’s a great man.”

Yeah, no shit.

You mutter a small noise of acknowledgement, keeping your eyes from meeting hers. Why are you so intimidated?

“How long have the two of you been together?” She questions and you get the sense that she may have nothing entertaining to do but pick your brain. Where’s one of you partners when you need them?

“Uh,” You stammer because…how long have you been together? The intimacy of a relationship began when you first kissed him 8 years ago. On the other hand, nothing has felt official until recently. “A few years.” You pick a healthy middle.

You can feel her stiffen at your side. She shifts, uncomfortably.

You finally switch your gaze to her, noticing how she’s attempting, but failing to hide her uneasiness. Best to put the poor woman out of her misery. “I know you’ve kissed.”

That definitely doesn’t alleviate her ill at ease mind.

You sigh. Might as well get it over with. Now that you truly think about it, you can’t blame her for much. Jayce never spoke of you in a romantic light.

“I can’t put you at fault, we’ve never told anyone about our relationship so there’s no way you could’ve known.” 

Both of her hands come around to clasp around her glass, fingers lightly brushing against each other. Her eyes are focused on the contents of the inside as she chews on her bottom lip, her head gaining momentum to nod.

Hazel eyes meet yours. “I sincerely apologize. If I had known at the time, I wouldn’t have taken that leap. I never intended to come between the two of you.” 

The resentment you had been holding deep in your chest begins to crumble, noticing how genuinely earnest she’s being. Some of your morals and beliefs may not line up, but she’s not a corruptive woman. Just another Piltovian trying to find success and love in her life.

“It’s all okay. If anything, we should be putting the blame on Jayce. He’s kind of an idiot, sometimes.” That draws an authentic laugh from her and you find yourself grinning.

“You said it, not me.” She chides lightly.

Politics aside, you could find yourself actually getting along with Mel. If only you had given her a chance sooner.

Your ears perk up when you hear the familiar clack of Viktor’s cane and you swivel around to find him mid-step, eyes widened as if he fears he’s interrupted something important. “Hey, Mad Scientist.” You hum sweetly and he continues to approach.

“Councilor,” He addresses Mel politely as he nears your side and the woman offers a small nod.

Your hand naturally falls upon his lower back, pressing your lips to the high point of his cheek. He stiffens uncomfortably under your touch and you realize what you’d done.

Glancing to Mel, her expression is bewildered, though it shifts into an awkward smile when she notices your stare. The practice of polygamy isn’t quite…well known.

“Oh, we’re together as well.” Real smooth, Saphyre.

Mel nods slowly, looking between Viktor’s rigid stance and your relaxed demeanor. “And Jayce?”

“Work and romantic partners. It seems complicated, but it works out surprisingly well.”

Viktor digs the foot of his cane into your toes and you grit your teeth, shooting him a sore look. He returns it with a stare of his own. “What? Someone’s gotta know before we both die.” His glare intensifies and you clear your throat, sealing your lips shut.

Mel’s heels click on the stone as she adjusts her stance. “Well, I’d better get going. I’m glad I got to see you and…clear things up.” She tacks on with a soft tone, sliding her hand down your arm in a friendly fashion. “It was good to see you, Viktor.”

Your partner hums appreciatively as the both of you watch her go, disappearing into the dwindling crowd once more.

“So, we are just telling anyone now–”

“Jay and Mel kissed.” You interrupt, eyes skimming over the partygoers to find your other partner. He’s on the other side of the room, stuck in conversation with Cassandra.

You hear the air get pushed out of Viktor’s lungs before coughs rack through his lungs and you immediately reach into his chest pocket for his handkerchief. It’s a nice crimson red, to disguise any concerning stains. 

The fit subsides and he folds the cloth over, hiding it in the palm of his hand. “What?”

“It happened the night you were hospitalized. Though, I only found out a few days ago, when you sent me to speak with him.” Your eyes try to avoid him for as long as possible, finding other things to focus on while still being on the conversation. It’s easier.

He’s having none of it, forcing his way into your eye line. “Why haven’t you told me?” 

Valid question.

“Because, one, it should come from him, not me. And, two, there’s no good way to break that news. I can imagine that’s why Jay hasn’t said anything yet.”

Or because he thought he could get away with Viktor never knowing. Even though, time and time again, the older man has proved that it’s almost impossible to keep things from him. He was able to deduct that Vander was your father by a hunch, for fuck’s sake.

Your hand rises up to his shoulder so he can feel your touch, gently rubbing the jutting bone. “He regrets it. They haven’t done anything since and Mel knows that them having a romantic relationship is out of the question.” That should be enough, right? You forgave Jayce.

Not everyone can be as forgiving as you, though. You’re not even sure why you’re so forgiving.

It’s hard to resist those puppy eyes and soft kisses.

Plus, you know Jayce doesn’t have the heart or brain capacity to cheat or lie when it comes to the two of you. Though messy and confusing, he’s done everything in his power to show his loyalty.

“An apology would still be nice.” Viktor murmurs like a pouty kid.

“And we can have that arranged.” You assure, kissing his temple before darting your eyes over the crowd once more. Jayce has mingled to the edge of the room by now, head whipping back and forth like he’s searching for someone. Your gazes lock and you realize he’s been searching for the both of you.

As he steps out into the night air, his body visibly relaxes, a heaving sigh pushing its way from his chest. His hand comes to rub at his forehead, smoothing out the wrinkles. “Knew I’d find you here. I don’t know why you antisocials even come to these things.”

“You force us.” Viktor deadpans and you squeeze the back of his neck as if you’re trying to get a dog to heel.

Play nice.

The taller man doesn’t notice the tension and gives an easy laugh, sliding a strong arm around your waist to kiss you. “You both look breathtaking tonight.” You flush at the compliment as he turns to his other partner, kissing him as if it’s second nature.

Viktor loosens up in the slightest, leaning into the man and you drop your hand from his neck to savor the moment.

“Having fun?” Jayce hums, swiping some loose hairs from the older man’s forehead.

“Besides being talked down to? Fantastic.” Your eye twitches to match your sarcastic tone, finally setting your empty glass on the railing.

All of the stimulating conversation almost made you forget about the elitist pricks going on about their night over many glasses of booze. Talking about money and politics like they’re so civilized.

Does this make you a hatemonger?

Jayce sighs, looking upon the crowd as they conversate. “I didn’t think they’d take it that far. You’re a household name.”

“Well, apparently not, considering how none of them remember the very expensive paintings they’ve commissioned from me. Never thought I’d be picking at scraps to be recognized.” And it’s not as if you’re bland looking– scars on your face with eccentric clothing to match the artist persona.

Viktor follows the other man’s gaze. “I would be lying if I said I’m surprised. I have even been asked if I’m your assistant, as well.”

At least it’s not just you.

“I’m sorry, guys. I should have been more mindful when introducing you.” Jayce soothes, tucking some of your stray hairs in their proper place with a measured touch. You purr like a pampered house cat. Seriously, how are you supposed to stay mad at him?

His caress falls away as he turns to the open night, Viktor continuing to linger behind you. Sparing him a glance, you notice the way his lips are tugged down in a small frown.

You slightly nod your head towards the younger man’s direction. Viktor shakes his head. You roll your eyes.

“Mel was here earlier. We had…a bit of a chat.” 

Jayce’s shoulders stiffen, moving a centimeter closer to his ears.

“She apologized, said she never intended to come between us. She’s actually quite amicable now that I don’t find her threatening to our relationship.” You cringe at yourself. Who knew you’d be so green-eyed and insecure. What an unappealing trait.

It feels as if the breeze has fallen still, the whole world with it. He probably assumed the topic was over and done with after that fateful conversation.

There are three people in this relationship and one has been left out for far too long.

“Is there anything you would like to say to Viktor?”

The older man sucks in a sharp breath and you step out of the way so the two can face each other. The awkwardness in the air is unenviable. Conversations about feelings and emotions? Hell, no.

Men.

“I’m sorry that I never told you.” Jayce’s eyes flash and you can tell he’s catching the excuse before it can tumble from his lips. “It was unfair and I didn’t want something so stupid to get in the way of us. I was being an idiot.”

Wow, such wise words from Councilor Jayce Talis.

The apology hangs in the air as Viktor processes, staring at his feet and the way the moonlight is reflecting off of his polished shoes.

Jayce steps forward into the other man’s space, holding out an arm as a truce. “You don’t have to forgive me, just…don’t hate me.” He adds on softly, the backs of his fingers gently tracing down the arm of his partner’s jacket.

Viktor’s expression is uneasy as he lifts his chin, twitching his lip to the side as he debates something in his head.

“I do not think I could ever bring myself to hate you, Jayce.” He whispers, just loud enough to hear. The younger man’s lips curl into a small smile as he wraps the other man into his welcoming embrace.

You can almost feel his warmth, the way his arms squeeze around his lower back as he tucks his face into the crook of Viktor’s neck.

A solid few seconds pass before they’re both pulling away, Jayce’s large hand cupping Viktors cheek to pull him into a kiss. Loving, as if they both might disappear tomorrow.

That’s the thing about love, you never know when it’ll be plucked from your hands.

As they pull away, their foreheads press together to share a moment, eyes closed to take in the other’s affection. You’re not sure if either of you have explained it to Jayce, but this is the Zaunite kiss. A way to show adoration and passion through a simple gesture. And this Piltovian has just picked it up like it’s a simple habit.

“I love you.”

Oh.

The world is silent, Jayce’s words ringing in your ears.

With wide eyes, you watch as Viktor tenses, slowly backing away from his partner with an indiscernible stare.

Oh, no.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, V. It was the heat of the moment, I didn’t mean–”

“No. No, it’s okay. I just…wasn’t expecting it, is all.” Viktor assures his partner, blinking away his confusion before warping his face into something more pleasant– palatable.

The two men share a long look, Jayce searching the man’s every feature and microexpression, most likely rethinking his every choice leading up to this moment. You don’t blame him, this isn’t exactly the response you’d expect from someone.

“It’s alright if you’re not ready for that yet. I completely understand.” The taller man eases and you can’t help but raise some questions.

It’s been 8 years, isn’t an ‘I love you’ way past overdue by now? 

Maybe that’s a selfish thought.

“I thought Saphyre would be the first to say it,” Viktor chuckles quietly, throwing you a reserved smile. “But, I do, too. Love you, that is.” He steps back into Jayce’s reach, sticking his cane under his arm so he can place his arms around the other man’s neck.

A kiss is placed upon a flabbergasted expression.

You’re hoping that you haven’t gathered a crowd of nosy onlookers, but who cares? Maybe they’ll finally know you and Viktor as something besides Jayce’s ‘assistant’.

In a moment, Jayce is snagging you by the waist, tugging you into his chest with a warm hand in the curve of your back. His hold is almost possessive and your cheeks flush. “I love you. I fucking love you, Saph.” 

He doesn’t even give you a second to reply before your lips are pressed to his, hungry and ready to devour you. Your skin prickles with a newfound ardency, letting yourself be swept away.

He nips at your bottom lip and you huff out a small laugh, pushing him away and daring not to look over your shoulder in fear of finding an audience. “Don’t start something you can’t finish. We’re still supposed to be professionals at a party.”

Jayce doesn’t seem to care in the slightest, diving back down to kiss all over your face, a couple of pecks finding the sensitive skin on your neck.

Now you really have to push him away.

Viktor is patiently awaiting his turn like a man standing in line at the shop, a genuine grin plastered on his face with a hand tucked into his front pocket.

“My Vik,” You hum sweetly, wrapping your arms around his neck in the same fashion he had Jayce.

“My light,” 

Is that a pet name?

Where is your Viktor, and what have they done to him?

“I love you.” He continues on breathily, capturing your kiss with adoration you never thought possible. It could put Jayce to shame.

Your lips move in tandem, slowly slotting together naturally as if this is the only thing they had been created for. If all you could do for the rest of eternity was kiss your partners, you’d be content.

Suddenly, a rise of applause and cheers filters out into the night air and you jump out of Viktor’s arms. Hoping it’s just something exciting that has happened, you turn to find a group of partygoers gathered at the edges of the archways, focused on the three of you.

Oh, Gods. It’s a nightmare.

They continue to clap and laugh along when you turn away, hiding your heated face in your hands. No way this many people just watched you profess your undying love to these two men before kissing them like there’s no tomorrow. No way.

Jayce smiles brightly at the crowd with a hand rubbing at the back of his neck and Viktor can only chuckle along, noticing your bewilderment.

Hour upon hours of bullshit, just for them to make a spectacle of your relationship?

Well, at least they support it.

“I believe I can die happy now.” Viktor comes to your side with an arm around your waist, soft lips pressing to your temple. His laugh is deep and enchanting in your ear, a small shudder fluttering down your spine.

You jab him in the ribs but your elbow is only met with the metal of his brace. Immediately retracting your arm, you hiss as he continues to find humor in the situation.

“While I’d love to stay,” He hums lowly in your ear over the crowd. “I’d better get going. Enjoy all the attention for me.” Another kiss, to your hair this time, and he’s turning to give Jayce his own goodbyes.

Bastard.

You attempt to pull yourself together, straightening out your outfit before facing the crowd. Jayce is already facing your way, that pearly smile only aimed at you.

Ah, fuck the crowd.

When you find your place in his arms once more, you lift up to whisper in his ear, his head coming down to meet you in the middle. “Do you think they’ll see me as more than an assistant now?”

You’re returned with a hearty chuckle, two hands sliding down your back and onto the plush of your rear. A squeeze. “Yeah, as mine.”

What a fucking flirt.

…

The next morning, you’re barely awake out of bed before someone is at your front door, requesting Jayce to the Council chambers. Barely sparing a few kisses, he’s out to start the morning way earlier than what feels reasonable.

You’d been up quite late last night…enjoying yourselves.

Viktor’s the one who forces you out of bed, reminding you of all the meetings you have with potential investors today. You often attend those conferences by yourself, knowing that it’ll run much smoother without your partner there.

Jayce is friendly to a fault– conversing on and on while you endlessly check your watch. All of the sessions end up going overtime and you usually have to shoo them off with a tight grin.

On your own, you’re straight to business. Still amicable, but on a mission.

After quickly preparing for the day, you and Viktor make your way to the labs, grabbing something to eat on the way. Surprisingly, you only had to stop two times to catch your breath from the long walk. Viktor, being fused with the Hexcore, took the walk in stride, only leaning into his cane to keep suspicious looks at bay.

Lucky son of a bitch.

By midday, Viktor’s head is buried in the Hexcore and you’ve just finished up your 3rd meeting. Out of convenience and mindfulness of your partner’s work, you arranged all of the investors to meet you in the lobby of the laboratory building.

It’s actually quite nice, lots of seating and a few meeting rooms tucked into the corners of the main hall.

Finally on your lunch break, you stop by the closet takeaway shop and find your place back in the lab. Setting Viktor’s steaming box of food on the workbench beside him, he continues to work as if you aren’t there.

“Hey, workaholic.” You take the band of his goggles between your fingers, tugging it back lightly so it snaps to the back of his head. “Take a break and eat something. It’s half past twelve.”

He groans, rubbing at the spot that had just been so rudely abused. He gives you a tight glare before glancing at the clock, eyes widening in the slightest when he realizes just how much time has passed.

“What did you bring?”

“Something edible.” You kiss the back of his skull in a silent apology, leaving him as you move toward the couch, where your own food is sitting. “Try to eat some of it so I don’t convince myself that you’re dying.”

He snorts, flipping open the takeaway box. “I am dying.”

Right.

“You know what I mean, asshole.” He continues his laugh as you turn back to your lunch with a roll of your eyes.

You hear the door click open and in steps Jayce, dripping sweat with his work coat half unbuttoned. Must’ve just come from the forge. 

“How was your meeting?” You greet before shoving a forkful of food into your mouth. He’s immediately going to the locker to grab a new shirt, almost tearing off his sweat-soaked one. His back is sopping wet.

Grabbing a towel from the hook, he swipes it over his forehead, trailing down his neck and chest.

He has zero right to look this good.

“Just as frustrating as every other one, recently.” He mumbles with a sigh, cloth sweeping across the back of his neck and the parts he can reach on his back. It’ll have to do with how much of a rush he seems to be in.

You tap your fork against the plastic container, raising a brow. “Are you late to be somewhere?” The conversation finally seems to intrigue Viktor and swivels around in his chair. 

Throwing the towel back into the locker, he pulls out a new dress shirt, fingers fumbling with the clasps in his haste. “We’re uh…” He pauses, focusing on getting his buttons slid into place. “Looking into getting some of the enforcers familiarized with weapons similar to the Mercury Hammer.”

Enforcers?

Your lips stiffen into a straight line, eyes squinting distastefully. “You’re still set on preparing for war?

“I don’t want to start a war, I just think that we should nip this in the bud before things go too far.” ‘Nip this in the bud’? Is that his simplified way of saying, ‘Let’s overpower and shut down these people so we don’t terrify the citizens of Piltover with violence and conflict’?

You sigh, turning your attention back to your food as you pick at it with your utensil. If he starts something he can’t finish, you’re well within your rights to say ‘I told you so’.

“Would you like for me to accompany you?” Viktor hums, setting aside his container.

“No.” Jayce replies quickly, turning on the heel of his foot with a hand chopping through the air. He clears his throat. “No, that won’t be necessary. Stay here and work. I’ll be back so we can catch up on all of your findings.”

There’s a slight furrow to the older man’s brows but he concedes with a nod of his head.

Jayce slides on his suit jacket, clasping those buttons before going to the corner of the room where the hammer sits harmlessly. Heaving it up into the air, he tugs on the lever to power up the stone, blue glowing between the plates of steel.

“Please, be careful, Jay.” You plead warily, chewing on the inside of your lip as the taste of iron washes over your tongue.

“Always.” He assures, hefting the weapon over his shoulder.

Then, he’s gone.

You slide your takeaway container shut, nausea clawing its way up your throat. Discarding it at your feet before standing, your hand comes up to wipe over your face. Maybe you’d feel better if you shifted your focus to something else.

“How’s the work going?” You approach Viktor’s back, carding your fingers through the soft hairs at the base of his neck. He hums appreciatively as he swivels back around to the buzzing Hexcore, alternating the positions of its runes like a rubik’s cube.

Flipping open his notes, scanning over the scribbled words. “Slow. I am still attempting to hypothesize its potential.” The Arcane trills, the sound bouncing off of the high ceiling. “It is difficult to understand its ability to heal with no test subjects.

Well, besides himself.

You peer at the diagrams scattered over the pages, identifying the ones he had carved into his own skin that night.

“You could test on me.”

His head turns at a neck-breaking speed, a frown tugging at his lips. “Absolutely not.” His stare is intense, eyes searching every part of your face in an attempt to read your thoughts.

“Why? I mean, with the Shimmer, it doesn’t kill you.” You shrug your shoulders, glancing at the way the Hexcore is pulsing at you, almost as if it’s sentient. “I’m diseased. Shouldn’t I get the chance to be cured like you?”

He shakes his head vehemently, rolling his stool to the side so he’s blocking your view of the core. “First of all, I am not cured. I am still a dying man. And, second of all, there is absolutely no way I would even consider putting your life in danger like that.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. Your scar throbs. “My life is already in danger. I’m dying too, Vik. Even if this experiment goes to shit, no matter what, I’ll die.”

Couldn’t you just get a taste of what it feels like to be normal?

“If it works out, then great. We’ll all get to breathe a little easier– literally.”

He continues to stare up at you with that reprimanding expression, mouth pursing as his tongue licks over the front of his teeth. “No, Saphyre. I will not let you.”

You try not to huff like an angry teenager.

Wasn’t the idea of the Hexcore to save your lives in the first place? To investigate its mysteries to augment the lives of people? You’ve seen firsthand how much it has improved Viktor’s condition and you’re just supposed to continue to suffer?

“But–”

“I said no.” He snaps back in the tone that’s rarely pointed at you.

Your jaw sets roughly as you swallow the lump forming in the back of your throat, a burning sensation lingering in the backs of your eyes.

The air between the two of you is electric as a moment passes, mouths clamped shut tightly with fiery stares directed at the other. Viktor is the first to cave in, expression wavering as his eyes flutter shut with a sigh.

“My Light, I love you. I cannot bear to see you be harmed by my work.” He offers gently, reaching out a hand to wrap around yours, giving it a tight squeeze.

You nod slowly, blinking away the sting in your eyes.

“We can find another way. We will find another way.” The pad of his thumb strokes along the back of your palm soothingly and you return the squeeze. His lips find your smooth skin, brushing a kiss over the surface of your hand with a steady exhale.

You will find a way to purge yourself of this disease, one way or another.

…

You have Viktor go out to get an early dinner. That’s probably a solid half hour of alone time in the lab.

Time to execute the plan.

Is it a good idea? Oh, absolutely not. But you have to be a little impulsive here and there. Though, this may be crossing the line of impulse.

You let the room settle for a few minutes after he leaves, even looking around to make sure he hasn’t left anything behind to come back for. When you feel secure, you beeline to his workbench to skim over his notes. Your fingers trace over the familiar runes, attempting to burn their shapes in your brain.

You reach down into his drawers, sliding every single one open as you rummage through papers, tools and miscellaneous writing utensils. On both sides, nothing. No vial of Shimmer.

Is this Shimmer necessary?

No, it definitely is. You saw what happened to your plant.

Snatching Viktor’s key ring from its hook under his desk, you splay out the keys in the palm of your hand. There’s over 10.

You know 4 of them; one is the key to your apartment, another one to his house, one for the lab door and the cabinet that he keeps the Hexcore in. He wouldn’t keep it in the same cabinet, would he?

No harm in trying.

Sliding the key around the ring, you kneel down in front of the cabinet before slotting it into the latch. Swinging the door open, a purple vial sparkles at you, the injection gun beside it. Hm, that was easy. Inserting the vial into the chamber of the gun with a hiss, you wonder how long it’ll take for him to notice it’s gone. A day? A week?

Knowing him, he’ll probably sense a disturbance immediately while he’s in line for food and bolt back here. Better make it quick, then.

Among the tools in his desk, hidden in the back of the lowest drawer is a leather bundle of scalpels, pristine and void of any leftover blood. It crosses your mind that you could use your own knife to keep things on the low— maybe some fucked up symbolism, but think better of it. You don’t want that blade to see any more of your blood. Tucking the leather under your arm, you snag Viktor’s notebook before finding your place in front of Jayce’s mirror on the far side of the room.

You balance the open book on the handles of the faucet, rolling open the bundle in the basin of the sink.

Here goes nothing.

Throwing your sweater over your head, your bra is quick to follow into a heap of clothing at your feet. Your eyes lock onto the misshapen scar sprawling between your breasts.

Then, your head lifts to stare into yourself. You’re an artist, you know how to replicate some simple shapes on a canvas. Sure, it’ll be painful, but you’ve spent the last 2 decades in constant agony. You can do this.

Sliding one of the scalpels from the package, the sharpened edge hovers over your awaiting skin.

Does the placement matter? As long as it’s in the affected area, it should work, right?

Starting right above the mottled skin on your sternum, you carve your first stroke.

Surprisingly, it’s not as agonizing as you thought. It’s similar to when you scratch an itch a little too hard or get the line work done on a new tattoo. Definitely not pleasant, but bearable enough to continue on.

Glancing to the clock over the chalkboard, you realize it’s been close to 15 minutes since Viktor has left. Better shift to a faster gear.

Leaning over the sink, you continue to carve the runes into your chest as if it was just a simple sketch in your workbook. With the pressure you’ve put yourself under, you’re still mindful to flip the shapes around to make up for the mirror’s deceiving reflection. 

In another 5 minutes, you finish up the last line, leaning away to get a good look of the overall image. In an attempt to follow the natural placement of your lungs, both sides are symmetrical to each other– two under your collarbones, one on your sternum, four on the undersides of your breasts and two on the sides of your ribcage. You’re hoping there isn’t a price to pay for leaving your back untouched.

So…now what?

Collecting his notes into your hands, you skim over his scribbles. ‘Blood of test subject is required for transmutation.'

And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more gruesome.

You can feel tiny dribbles of blood flowing down your chest and sides as you gather the tools and make your way back to Viktor’s workbench, the anxiety of it all hitting you like a brick wall.

You could die right now. This could be the most idiotic decision of your life and no one would ever understand your thought process behind it. Today could be the last day your partners see you alive.

You didn’t get the chance to kiss Jayce goodbye or tell him how much you love him. You only gave Viktor a quick peck before shooing him off.

Ideally, you’d die with your hands in theirs, kisses being pressed to your face as you slowly drifted off. You’d have an entire speech prepared to explain how much they mean to you and how deep your love for them runs– and will always run.

Death by the Arcane is not an ideal one.

Fuck, you’ve made it this far. You can’t back down now.

Settling down into his stool, the Hexcore hums in a throbbing rhythm as the runes spread apart to reveal its purple center.

Gross.

You place the book and leather bundle down on the worktop, smoothing down the pages in an attempt to calm your racing mind and ground your senses back to the moment. Glancing back to the clock, another 5 minutes have passed. He’ll be here any minute. You squeeze your eyes shut.

Now or never, Saphyre.

You blindly reach for the injection gun, pressing the barrel to the top of your right breast– completely avoiding your left side in fear of having to figure out what an entire dose of Shimmer to your heart does.

Another deep exhale and you’re pulling the trigger.

Fire immediately flares through your chest, the heat speeding through your nervous system to devour the rest of your body. Your skin is ablaze, bright purple flashing through your skin in the same diagram of your veins.

The pain is all consuming. You can barely make out the sound of your own screams over the blood rushing through your ears, muscles tensing so tightly that you’re sure some of them may have exploded under your skin.

You can’t breathe and at the same time, your lungs are so full of air that it feels as if they’ll implode.

All the while, the Hexcore trills happily.

Slowly, the flames die down into a lingering warmth. Your hands shake violently under the stress of the drug, fingers twitching uncontrollably every few seconds. 

It’s definitely too late to go back.

You tremble as you reach for the scalpel from the bundle, cold metal unstable in your wavering grip. Opening your other hand, the blade scrapes along the meaty surface. You take in a quivering breath. Slicing through the skin with vigor and intent, you can’t stop the cry that forces its way out of your throat as blood pools between the wrinkles in your palm.

Your veins glow a vibrant purple, feeling the core’s gravitational pull to your open wound. You inch closer, submitting to the overwhelming draw.

Tentacles of smoke flow from its blinding glow before you lose your stability to its inertia, watching streams of your blood pump into its center. The Hexcore rotates fluidly as it drinks up the matter and you instinctively fight to pull your hand away. Its strength is incomprehensible compared to yours.

The pain returns with a vengeance, feeling as if rays of ice are being forced through your trachea and bronchi viciously. You can feel the vibrations of your cries, the tearing of your vocal chords getting lost in the sensation of Arcane’s brutality.

In your blurred vision, a pale hand reaches for yours and you’re almost numb to the touch.

“Saphyre!” Viktor’s voice is nothing if not petrified, gripping you with another hand on your lower back. 

It’s warm. He’s warm.

Why is it so cold?

Your knees begin to go weak under you and he yelps in pain, leaning your body weight into him to keep you stable. His voice is beside your ear, listening to his breath hitch and the groans of agony.

You need to tell him to let go before he gets hurt. Every piece of strength has been zapped from your body and you find it difficult to find your voice. Or keep your eyes open. 

“My Light, please–” A flash of booming light seizes the room before either of you can draw another breath and you feel like you’re floating. For a second, you can imagine you’re floating to the lab ceiling with Jayce, young and carefree.

Then, it’s dark.

You’re not sure how long you’re out before Viktor is shaking you awake, your top half cradled into his chest as his hand strokes over your cheek. It’s cold and solid, like metal.

“--I shouldn’t have left, I should’ve known.” Blinking open your bleary eyes, you notice the wetness streaking down his cheeks, eyes rimmed with red.

“Vik.” You whisper, finding the resilience in your muscles to rise up, wiping the tears from his face with the pad of your thumb. “It’s okay. Don’t cry.” Your voice is shredded, but still functional.

Ignoring the fog blurring your mind, you focus on him, too hazy to understand what has him crying. Viktor? Crying?

“You’re fucking alive.” He sighs, diving down to capture your lips and you can taste the salt of his tears.

Of course you’re alive. Why wouldn’t you be alive?

Oh.

You’re alive?

Jolting back, you tilt your chin down to take in the state of your chest. The new purple scarring glints in the late afternoon light, small volts of electricity jumping out before disappearing once more. You instantly reach up, fingers grazing over the textured surface. You trace the golden portions scattered about, focusing on the large plate that is shaped as your sternum.

In your haste, you squirm out of Viktor’s grip, almost tripping over the forgotten stool as you scatter to the mirror.

In front of you, your skin is replaced with metal plating, ornate with its grooves and intricacies. The deep, purple steel softly melts into your flesh around your collar bones and the bottom curve of your breasts.

Turning around, the scarring wraps around your sides, following the shape of your ribcage. It rises to your shoulders, stopping at the base of your neck.

Are you crazy, or is this kind of badass?

Turning back around, your touch ghosts over the edge of the mutation, fingers zig-zagging between the metal and your skin. 

Viktor was right. You can’t feel anything.

Your partner lifts himself from the ground with a huff, swiping away the remainder of his tears. “Do you understand what you’ve done?” His hand clenches at his side, discolored and modified by the Hexcore from trying to save you. Fuck.

“I just thought–”

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” He shouts with a scowl, stomping toward the middle of the room. “You had no idea of what the process required and still went through with it on a vague memory and a prayer? Do you have any idea of how foolish that sounds?”

You swallow.

“I’m alive, aren’t I?”

He sighs in frustration, propping his hands onto his hips. “That is not the point! The point is that I deliberately told you no and you went behind my back!”

Why is he so upset? Shouldn’t he be proud that you figured it out on your own, that you managed to leave unscathed? You’re one step closer to being free from your disease. You thought that you could bond over your transfigurations.

“You do not understand the repercussions of this, Saphyre! The Hexcore destroys, it cannot cure us or elongate our lives. The only reason that we survived is because of a drug! I–” His eyes squeeze shut with a snarl. In a moment, he whips around, lifting the stool into the air above the core. His muscles are strained, ready to strike but he hesitates.

Eventually, the seat tumbles back to the ground with a loud clang.

His back is turned to you and you watch the way his shoulders slump down. “I need to get some air.” Limping his way over to the door, he reaches down for his forgotten cane, sparing you a single glance before he leaves.

You see the fear, the anger, the sadness.

When the door clicks shut, you notice the plastic bag of takeaway, two containers still steaming.

…

You end up leaving everything in its place at the lab, bag over your shoulder as you stew in your embarrassment on the way home. The streets are bustling as people amble about for their dinners, or leaving their shift at work. You’re able to navigate your way through easily, hands shoved into your front pockets with your gaze locked onto the cobblestone at your foot.

You aren’t sure where either of the boys are but you can only hope that you won’t run into them on the way to your apartment.

Your mind runs wild with antagonistic thoughts, knowing things wouldn’t have blown up in your face if you had just listened to Viktor. You can’t cheat death. You had just hoped this would give you more time to get your life in order.

It seems as if everything is out of order these days. And just when things had started looking up.

Stepping into the apartment, the air is still and undisturbed from any life, the lights all flipped off. Jayce must still be out. You sigh in relief.

You don’t have the emotional capacity to deal with anything.

You’re physically drained and exhausted from how early you had woken up this morning. You haven’t eaten since this afternoon, but that’s the last thing that’s on your mind.

You’ve gotten into plenty of arguments with both of your partners in the past, from small disagreements to the brink of screaming matches. It’s not new or unheard of but it always leaves you feeling outside of your own body, questioning the things you said or what made you so angry in the first place.

It’s easier to blame yourself instead of unpacking their actions or words and how they hurt you. It’s your nature to destroy, isn’t it? An old habit from your teenage years that you convinced yourself you had grown out of.

Maybe you should shut off your brain, just for a little.

After depositing your bag and shoes by the front door, you trudge your way down the hall to your bedroom. The covers are still crumpled and thrown about from this morning, Viktor’s formal attire in a pile at the foot of your bed. Jayce’s suit never made it back to his room, either.

You sigh heavily, listening to metal in your chest creak as you run your palm over your face, attempting to scrub the entire day away from your brain.

Easier said than done.

Climbing into your bed, you don’t bother to lift up the blanket, knowing the scent of your partners will be lingering on them heavily. Your pillow cases already smell of them.

It’s easy to fall into a dreamless slumber, completely shutting down within a few minutes of laying down.

A couple of hours later, you jolt awake from the sound of an explosion.

Almost toppling over as you shoot out of bed, you swipe away your curtains from the nearest window before sliding it open. Your head swivels from side to side, searching for the source of the noise.

In the distance, several blocks away, there’s a gaping hole in the Council building, smoke pluming from the top floor– where the boardroom is.

Your heart stops.

What weapon could do this much damage?

Your breath hitches, that all familiar ache rising in your chest. Your hand comes up to rub at your sternum but is met with cold metal plating.

As if a prayer on repeat, your mind chokes on the thought, ‘Please don’t let Jayce be in there. Please don’t let Jayce be in there. Please–’ Stone crumbles from the walls, falling out of sight behind the other buildings with a loud crack.

Fuck it.

You stumble out of your room, bolting to the front door to slip on your boots, not bothering to stop and tie them. Slamming the door, you take the stairs two at a time to charge outside. The moon is low in the sky, shining a ruby red upon Piltover.

Your stomach sinks and you feel like you could throw up.

Your legs are moving faster than you can keep up, sprinting down the streets in the achingly familiar route to the Council building. The air rushing in and out of your lungs feels like ice, sucking in oxygen before pushing it out hurriedly.

For once, you realize this is the best you’ve ever been able to breathe.

Chapter Text

11:26 pm.

And you’re just now getting back to the apartment.

Well, you got back about 5 minutes ago. Jayce has had you pinned up against the wall since you got here, kissing you like there’s no tomorrow with a knee between your legs. He could have the decency to take you upstairs, at least.

You tilt your head back against the stone, allowing him access to your neck as his lips trail down. He moans and whines into you, your skin warming with his heated breaths, coming out in heavy pants. It’s as if you're his only source of oxygen.

What a desperate thing.

“Saphyre.” He mewls between kisses, hips twitching into yours. For a fleeting moment, you can feel how needy he is. Not to mention how eager he’s been with his kisses.

“Jayce.” You hum back, pushing him away by his chest so he can speak properly. His face is flushed to all hell, lips swollen and slick with your spit. 

He gives you those shiny puppy eyes, eyebrows upturned. His mouth hangs open in an attempt to say something but he’s stuck trying to catch his breath. Your hand comes up to swipe away some of his hairs that have fallen out of place, sliding down to cup his cheek afterward. 

“Let’s go upstairs, hm?”

He nods slowly, watching the way your lips curl over the words.

You’re surprised he doesn’t scoop you up into his arms while you ascend the stairs, continuing to kiss you while he blindly searches for his keys. He’s keeping his composure, surprisingly. 

Swinging the door open, he tugs you into the privacy of your own home before slamming his back against the nearest wall, swapping your positions from before. He’s tugging at every piece of your clothing as you kick off your shoes, helping him shrug off his own suit jacket while never parting from his lips.

The jacket is thrown aimlessly, landing on the doormat in a crumpled pile. If it gets dirty, you’ll personally wash and press it. As a thank you for this, of course.

With your weight pressed into him, his hips continue to push into yours with more fervor. Even through the fabric, his arousal is clear as day. You can’t help but chuckle lowly against him, hand trailing down to where he needs it the most and he unashamedly moans.

From the living room behind you, you hear an approving hum. Just loud enough to catch over Jayce’s heaving breaths.

The both of you detach from one another, head whipping to the side at the source of the sound. There, on the couch, sits Viktor with his legs spread, relaxed back against the cushions with a devious smirk. His jacket and waistcoat have been abandoned somewhere, half of the buttons on his shirt undone to reveal his pale chest.

“Oh, do not let me stop you. I was enjoying the show.” His hands are rested between his thighs as he tilts his head to the side, a glint in his eye. He switches his gaze between you and Jayce as you stand there frozen.

You catch onto his little game immediately.

“What are you doing here?” You ask innocently, turning to the side to press your lips to Jayce’s neck, maintaining eye contact with the other man all the while. You brush over the taller man’s adam’s apple, continuing up to his favorite spot under his jaw.

Your hand remains on his cock and you give it a quick squeeze.

He whines with a shiver.

Viktor’s lips purse as he weighs his words, stare full of hunger. “Had a feeling I’d find you like this.”

“Scared of missing out?” You tease, tugging the tails of Jayce’s dress shirt from the waist of pants. He stands there so prettily, taking everything you give him while you casually speak with your partner.

Viktor shrugs with the shadow of a grin on his lips. His eyes lock onto the other man, taking in his ragged appearance and the shadow turns into a full blown smile. “Figured it’s about time.”

Well, isn’t this a treat?

“My Love,” You turn back to Jayce and he’s so pliant, standing there awaiting your next words. You absolutely adore him when he’s like this. Not entirely submissive, but more so eager to please in whatever way he can.

You wonder if there’s a word for that.

“Would you like for Viktor to join us tonight?”

“Is that even a question?” He laughs, canines glinting in the light as they stick out from his plush lips.

You gaze back at Viktor, returning his devious smirk. With your eyes, you check the sincerity of his offer with a raise of your brow. His eyes travel down your body before inching their way back up. He gives a single nod.

With that, you sway your head, motioning toward your bedroom.

Reaching for his cane laid at his side, Viktor rises from the couch before sauntering down the hallway without a second glance.

You grab onto Jayce’s collar, giving it a light tug so your lips brush together. “Count your blessings, Jay, because this is a once in a lifetime opportunity.” Your breath is hot against his lips and you kiss it away, taking his hand to guide him to the room.

Viktor is observing the art on your walls when you get there. He stands in front of your self portrait, eyes roving over the flows of your hair. 

“You can look at the real thing, you know.” You jab lightly, approaching his back before wrapping your arms around his middle, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. Your hands fiddle with the buttons still clasped together on his shirt.

He hums in response, turning over his shoulder so you can place your lips on his cheek.

“Everything is under your control, tonight.” You mumble as Jayce approaches his other side, sliding his hand onto the back of the shorter man’s neck, pushing away his hair to place a flurry of kisses on the skin there.

“Have you ever done anything like this before?”

Viktor returns with a pleased noise, eyes fluttering shut when Jayce hovers over his ear, latching onto his earlobe. “Not in a long time.”

You tug down the back of his collar, pressing your lips to the mole on his upper back with a purr. He returns the sentiment.

“Jay, are you listening?” The man moans out a small noise of approval to show you have his attention, though his lips never leave Viktor’s skin. “Whatever Vik says, goes. If he tells us to stop, we stop. If there’s anything you like or dislike, want or need, just tell us and we’ll be there.” 

You unclasp another one of his buttons. “Jay will do anything you ask. He’s a good listener.” You whisper into the older man’s ear, fingers moving to the next button. “Isn’t that right, Love?” 

Jayce groans in acknowledgment, gripping Viktor’s chin to face him. “I care about your comfort. I’ll only do what you want me to.” Their lips meet, slow and saccharine like a promise.

With a satisfied sigh, you leave their sides to slide the dimmer switch of the overhead light down, casting the room in a more calming hue. Small whines and groans fill the air as you flick open your lighter, sparking up a few of your candles on your dresser and nightstands.

Is it kind of cliche? Yes. But, is it romantic? Also yes.

You just professed your undying love for each other, for the love of the Gods.

You settle down onto your mattress, waiting another minute for them to have their moment. Then, you clear your throat. Their heads whip around to face you and you pat the space next to you invitingly. 

“Wanna take that suit off of him for me?” You address Viktor as Jayce takes his place next to you.

The younger man leans back onto his hands, spreading his legs apart to make room for his partner. His gaze is nothing if not seductive, a deep red flush crawling up from under his collar to his cheeks.

“Aren’t I special?” Viktor flirts back, slotting his legs between the other man’s.

He starts with Jayce’s shirt first, finishing the job you had begun back in the living room. With every inch of skin revealed, the more his hands tremble and you can only hope it’s excitement that’s making him shake.

Sleeves are sliding off of muscular shoulders before the button-up is handed to you and you throw it into a random direction. You have no use for it.

Jayce leans forward, hands finding their place along Viktor’s slender waist as chaste kisses are pressed to pale skin, brushing over a galaxy of moles.

“Can I…” The older man gestures to a pillow at the head of the bed and you quickly place it at his feet, Jayce offering a hand to help guide him down to his knees. After Viktor’s situated, he tilts his chin back up and you almost melt. The low light glows against his bright eyes, gaze pointed upward at his partner and the angle accentuates his long eyelashes.

And you haven’t done this before because…?

Nimble hands reach up to undo his belt, sliding it through the loops with practiced ease. The younger man pets a hand through Viktor's hair, cradling the back of his head in a non-suggestive way. Just simply holding.

The rest of Jayce’s clothes are discarded with the same care, being relinquished to your hands before you toss it into the same direction as before.

“You’re so beautiful,” Viktor lingers between his partner’s thighs, hesitating before pressing sweet kisses to the insides, just far enough to avoid the man’s obvious arousal.

Seems as if everyone’s taken a liking to Jayce’s thighs. They are quite delicious– you would know.

“What would you like next, Darling?” The pet name falls from your lips easily.

“Jayce.” Viktor motions his head toward you and, as if they’re on the same wavelength, Jayce pulls your top down your shoulders, capturing you in a kiss.

You try not to act too surprised, going with the motions of his hands and where they guide you. Every piece of clothing is pulled off with careful attention and you mewl at his touch, filled with love and adoration as he relishes in every piece of flesh you allow him.

Soon, you’re left in nothing but your underwear.

“Do you want your clothes off?” You offer to Viktor as he stands, caressing his hip when he comes closer.

“Just the shirt.” He nods, eyes quickly flashing down to his leg and back up before the other man can notice. Right, his leg. He doesn’t want Jayce to know. 

Untucking the tails of his dress shirt from the waistband of his pants, you undo the final button, letting him shrug it off and drop behind him. You drag your hands up the sides of his hips, stopping at the slope of his waist. With the size of it, it’s such an effeminate feature– one that you will never grow tired of.

Your lips find the sensitive skin of his chest, kissing his sternum before slowly trailing up to his collarbones. That gives him a shiver.

He’s so fucked.

You continue your adoration, taking his skin into your mouth as you slowly swirl your tongue with a mewl. Your teeth may scrape here and there, but it can easily be written off as a mistake from being too eager. To his chagrin, you know what you’re doing.

“You cold?” You smile, pressing the flat of your tongue over his bruising skin. Just for effect, you flutter your lashes and he groans, head falling back on his shoulders. There are goosebumps raised across his arms but his flesh is warm to the touch.

Jayce chuckles deeply behind you, swiping your hair to the side to expose your neck to his kisses. “Don’t tease him, Saph.

“He can take it,” You purr, tilting your head to give the younger man better access. His touch is light, barely grazing over your skin with suppressed moans. “Can this come off?” You run your fingers over the structured support on the front of Viktor’s brace.

He swallows, watching as your fingers notch over the metal plates. “Yes, the…strap unbuttons up here,” Your hands are reaching up before he can continue, freeing the button from the leather strap. There are red marks imprinted into his shoulder.

The older man looks at you, eyes filled with uncertainty that has you worrying. You promptly lean in to place a chaste kiss on his lips. “Only if you want me to, Darling.” He returns your affection in kind, his thin hand guiding yours to the dials on the center support.

“Twist these counter clockwise to loosen the mold and it will open. Then you can unbuckle the waistband.” Seems simple enough. His hand ghosts over yours as you turn the top dial, continuing on until it knocks from its steel threading.

Like a complicated corset.

You move on to the other two, following the same movements before it clicks open, allowing some room for him to slip out of its casings.

“Are you watching, Jay?”

He hums in agreement and you glance back, finding him with a hand palmed over his cock and a flush covering his entire chest. He’s paying attention, just not to the right things.

You roll your eyes a bit with a playful scoff, turning back to Viktor. “And now the waistband?”

He nods slowly, eyes sliding to the man behind you before flying back. “Just…be careful.” There’s a double meaning to his words and you see right to its point. Don’t let his scarring show. If you play it right, most of your body will cover Jayce’s view of his lower half.

“Always.” You assure softly, unbuttoning his trousers with deft fingers as leather is revealed to you. There’s a faint hue of purple peeking out from under his boxers, but nothing that’s noticeable unless you know what you’re looking for.

There’s a strap a few inches long just below his navel and you find the buckles, maneuvering them as if it was a regular belt.

“Good to take off?”

He takes both sides of the brace, cracking them open to slide off of his torso like a vest. You’re quick to take it from him, wanting to set it somewhere safe and secure. “Thank you for allowing me to do that for you.” You gently muse, capturing him in a languid kiss that you can only hope shows your true appreciation.

It’s a small thing, really. But, for someone like Viktor, it’s a huge step after years of being jabbed in the side or beaten with his cane for offering help.

It’s also an intimate thing. You’ve never seen him without his brace, let alone be allowed to remove it yourself.

Stepping to the side, you place the mold carefully on the top of your dresser, tucking in the belts and straps so they won’t get caught in anything. Behind you, Jayce mutters lowly. “Look at you, so gorgeous.”

Then, a needy whine, high pitched and full of want. For a moment, you’re not sure who it’s coming from.

Turning around, the younger man has his lips wrapped around Viktor’s nipple, eyes screwed shut with a hand digging through the other’s cropped hair. One of Jayce’s hands is on his partner’s stomach, feeling the way his muscles tense under his touch, while the other is wrapped around the base of his cock. His tip is dribbling precum.

No one’s even touched him, yet.

“Jayce,” Viktor mewls as the other man kisses a trail over to his other nipple. They both look absolutely wrecked, drunk on each other with every sensation given.

Taking in the lewd noises, Jayce fully drags his palm up and down his cock. “Viktor,” He purrs back, spreading his precum with the pad of his thumb. 

“I might not even have to do anything, just leave you boys to it.” You lightly tease, climbing back onto your bed to prop yourself up against your pillows, a practiced hand grazing over the curve of your breast.

Both of your partners seem to realize you still exist, though Jayce doesn’t stop his movements. He’s getting greedy.

Maybe a little too greedy.

“Is it unusual for him to be this eager?” Viktor is almost breathless, the weight of his body being dragged down into his partner. You understand the feeling.

“He’s an avid lover, but I’ve never seen him like this. I’d be lying if I said I’m not a little jealous.” You nudge the man with your foot and he finally pulls away, irises damn near blacked out from how enlarged his pupils are.

His tongue darts out to lick away the spit drooling down his chin, continuing to spread his cum around his flushing tip. “Hm? You talking about me?”

You can’t help but roll over your eyes, pinching your own nipple between your thumb and forefinger. “Yes, Councilor.”  His eyes flash down to your wandering hand with a white-knuckled grip around himself. 

Using his official title with a wanton tone never fails to rile him up.

“Seems like you’ve forgotten all about me.” You pout, sticking out your bottom lip for effect. You’re anything but genuinely upset (quite liking the view, actually), but you love the way he completely switches gears and focuses on you.

“‘M sorry, baby.” He coos, crawling over to you with concern written all over his face.

Yeah, like that.

“What can I do for you– for both of you?” A strong hand cups the fabric covering your cunt, magnifying the warmth coming from your own body. 

Your head shifts to the side at Viktor, noticing the hand that’s covering his own erection. He looks like a damn tomato, by now. 

His throat bobs slowly. “Do you often partake in oral?” What an awkward, scientific way to ask. 

Ah, whatever. It’s adorable.

Jayce begins to kiss his way down your chest, set ablaze by the mere mention of eating you out. His plush lips linger around your scar between your breasts, expressing extra love and adoration there– per usual.

Your fingers thread through the thick hair on the crown of his head as he guides himself further down, kissing and nipping at the soft skin of your stomach. Your eyes remain on Viktor as the other man finds the waistband of your underwear, taking the fabric between his teeth to tug it down your thighs.

“Does that answer your question?”

Viktor’s tongue swipes over his bottom lip, watching Jayce’s movements like a hawk.

Jayce goes prone on the bed, making himself comfortable on the mattress and throws your legs over his muscled shoulders. Cool air is blown onto your heated cunt and you shiver, clenching around nothing with a choked whine.

“Mean,” You throw him a look and he chuckles deeply, pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs apologetically, squeezing his fingers into the plush fat there.

Viktor is standing stock-still, the heel of his hand pushing further and further into his arousal. “Come here, Darling.” You call to him and he finally breaks away from what’s going on between your legs.

You lean forward to allow space for him at your back and he takes the message in stride, carefully climbing in so you can rest upon his chest. You can feel the tension in his muscles. 

Gently, you guide his hands to cup your breasts and he’s quick to take the buds of your nipples between his fingers. It seems as if his brain needed a moment to catch up with his body and he’s right back to his cocky old self. His squeezes are soft at first, letting you become accustomed to his touch slowly.

“You two are a sight for sore eyes.” Jayce murmurs between your legs, eyes practically heart-shaped from the way he’s gazing at you.

As if you are the moon and stars.

As if you are the universe itself.

You take his chin in your hand, thumb running over his spit-slick bottom lip. “Less looking, more eating.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

It’s only a moment before the flat of Jayce’s tongue is licking a broad stripe over your slit, curling in to wrap his lips around your clit with a soft suck. A quiet moan tumbles from your lips, heels digging into the muscles of his lower back to urge him on.

Viktor, behind you, hums in appreciation, kneading his palms into your breasts. His hands are cold against your flesh and it’s a delicious inverse to the heat of Jayce’s breath on your cunt.

You feel spoiled– two gorgeous men attending to your every need and want without blinking an eye.

The taller man’s tongue dives between your lips to dip into your aching core and your body reacts in kind to the intrusion, clenching around the muscle. You let go of everything, allowing an unabashed moan to ring through the air.

“My Light,” Viktor purrs into your ear and you can feel his chest rumble with the sound. He tugs harshly at one of your nipples and another whine is pulled from you. “I’ve dreamed of this– how beautiful you would sound and how diligently Jayce would tend to you. The ways I could touch you to make you whimper.”

Who would’ve known Viktor has such a filthy mouth?

“Why–” Jayce’s tongue curls inside of you as you speak through a moan. “Why haven’t we done this sooner?

“Being sexually adverse is a difficult thing to work through, sometimes. I was not sure how you would react if I could not fulfill some of your requests.”

If only he knew how much you adore him, how you lavish any touch or word with your entire soul. You’re grateful for every small thing he offers and understanding of anything cannot express.

You’ve grown to love the way he loves. Sex isn’t a necessary factor, it’s simply a bonus.

“I don’t care, I’ll take anything you give me. As long as it’s you.” Your chin turns over your shoulder to capture his lips in a kiss, allowing him to steal your breath away with the fervor in which he returns your affection.

Words are being traded without a voice to carry it. 

I love you.

Jayce, in all of his wisdom, notices the heartfelt moment and places a few chaste kisses to your clit–  drawn out and soft as the tip of his nose brushes into the trimmed hairs on your mound. In a few moments, he’s back to work, spelling out words with his tongue.

Tracing letters against your cunt is a sure-fire way to draw you closer to the edge, if time has proven anything. It ranges between your own name (you can practically hear the way he’d be moaning it), his name (when he’s feeling extra possessive) and small phrases that his mouth is too full to speak aloud.

Only half of your brain can process the letters with the way Viktor is kissing and groping you.

I L-O-V-E Y-O-U.

Gods, you’re dating a couple of saps.

A giggle rises from your throat but is quickly replaced with a guttural whine when he gives your clit a harsh suck. The flame in your belly grows larger at his desperation, toes curling while your back arches against the older man.

All of the attention is dizzying to your mind and you can barely keep control of your sounds, your ears buzzing with arousal and the small praises Viktor whispers to you. Not to mention the obscene sounds that Jayce’s mouth makes against your slick cunt.

Jayce’s hand sneaks around your thigh and he presses the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit, massaging in a tight circle while his own whimpers and groans vibrate against you. 

If you were to actually pay attention, you would notice the way his hips are grinding into the mattress, chasing his own release but holding off until you find yours.

Like a good boy.

“Look at him, Saphyre. He must have been pent up.” Viktor coos as he eyes Jayce and you’re barely coherent enough to catch on. “You do this to him.”

A drawn out whine takes over the room, head falling back onto your lover’s shoulder.

Through choked, heaving breaths, the younger man does not let up. He’s scarily good at multitasking– thumb moving in consistent circles, tongue diving in to nudge at the spongy spot that has you squeezing your eyes shut tightly.

You’ve always known he’s unmatched when it comes to oral, but this? This is new.

Your moans continue to ramp up in pitch as you teeter over the edge, the flame in your belly turned to a full wildfire and your body slowly goes numb. Your extremities are staticy and fuzzy as encouraging words are mumbled into your pussy.

“There you go, Saph. You’re so perfect, coming undone so beautifully. Let me see you come. Let me hear those gorgeous sounds.”

And if that doesn’t make you shiver all over.

“I’m gonna–”

“Let it all go. I want to see you come, My Light.” Viktor’s nimble hand sneaks down into the other man’s hair, keeping his nose buried in your cunt. The display of dominance is mouthwatering.

Jayce erupts with a desperate moan as the older man pulls at his roots, hips stuttering against the mattress.

Viktor clicks his tongue. “Be patient, Jayce.”

And that’s what pushes you over the edge.

Your jaw slackens as you fall into your lover’s chest, back arching off of the bed while squeezing your thighs around Jayce’s head– so tightly that in a more lucid state, you’d be worried of suffocating him (though he’d happily die in such a manner).

Your vision goes white for a moment and you’re deaf to your own whines, feeling yourself clench down around his tongue. His ministrations don’t end, working you through your never ending orgasm. Heavy breaths force their way out of your chest and your lungs ache, but the rest of your body is too caught up to allow a coughing fit now.

When you eventually come back to your own reality, Viktor’s hands are wrapped around your thighs, holding you open to keep his partner from being smothered. Effectively also giving him more room to continue his work.

Jayce is too caught up in your taste and his own pleasure to notice your squirming.

You’re no stranger to overstimulation– sometimes even enjoy it, but everything about this scene is too much. And, somehow, not enough.

You whimper pitifully into the older man’s neck, fighting against his grip as you buck your hips into your lover’s mouth. He groans direly, his own hips canting into your bed sheets with a newfound fervor.

“Jay–” You plead, trying to push his face away with half-hearted strength.

Then he whimpers.

Air is punched from his lungs as he comes into your sheets, his movements stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm. Everything about him is so pathetic in the most erotic way. His eyebrows curl up as his eyes squeeze shut, small mewls and whines drawing out of him.

Watching him come can make you come.

“Fucking shit, Jay. Such a pretty boy for us.” You purr breathily, stroking over his hair in a loving fashion. His cheek collapses against your thigh as he catches his breath, eyelids barely cracked open to look up at you. 

The sweetest puppy eyes.

He revels at the praise, a satisfied grin sprawling across his flushed lips.

“It is almost an impressive sight, coming just by rutting into the mattress like a teenager.” A heavy chuckle thrums through Viktor’s chest. “Does she taste that good?”

“You have no idea. I would spend the rest of my life doing this. She’s so fucking breathtaking, it’s ridiculous.” Jayce, on shaky arms, lifts himself up to press his slick lips to yours, allowing you a taste of yourself. 

While you’re not obsessed like him, you do taste pretty damn good when it’s on his lips.

When he finally pulls away, Viktor twists the other man’s chin. “Let me taste.” Their lips meet hungrily and as soon as they make contact, the older man is moaning in pleasure, tongue poking out to messily clean up the mess you’d made.

Where has this side of Viktor been your whole life?

“Isn’t she perfect?” Jayce murmurs, watching as his partner licks over his lips, reveling in the taste.

“Delectable.”

Fucking Christ.

You don’t perceive yourself to be easy to fluster or embarrass, but this takes the cake. How can they talk about this so casually right in front of you?

You groan, trying to wrestle from Viktor’s grip as you turn to the side. “You two are gross.” You huff out a small laugh, pushing Jayce back so you can climb into his lap, his cock beginning to stiffen once more.

Like you’ve said once upon a time, insatiable.

“Oh, c’mon. We’re not allowed to praise you?” Jayce’s hands wrap around the curve of your waist, snaking down to squeeze your ass. Viktor hums approvingly at the sight. 

The man under you trails his mouth over your chest, licking a stripe over your nipple before taking it into his mouth. His eyes remain on you, a newfound arrogant confidence lingering in his stare. Seems as if you’ve made a mistake letting another man feed his ego.

“And we’re going to ignore the way you came untouched? On my bed sheets?” You suppress a shudder, combing through the hair on the base of his neck. “You’re gonna wash these for me.”

You realize that the true fun in this whole situation is the delicious banter the three of you provide for each other. It’s neverending and can be considered foreplay, at this point.

To further your tease, your hand comes around to wrap around his neck.

Not squeezing, just holding. Possessively.

“Happily. Anything for you, baby.” He mumbles into your skin, teeth biting in to leave a mark. Probably the one of many you’ve received tonight.

You purr, turning your chin over your shoulder to look at Viktor. He’s still leaned back into the pillows, hand petting through his own hair as he looks at you with adoring eyes. A small smile spreads across his lips, noticing the way Jayce’s hands grope you.

“Would you like to be taken care of, Darling?” You shift your eyes down to his erection. Still going strong.

“I think that may be out of my comfortability levels for tonight. But, thank you.”

“That’s fine by me.” You nod sweetly, watching as he leans forward to join your embrace, arms wrapping around Jayce’s strong back. “It’s getting late anyway.” You muse, kissing the top of the younger man’s head when he lets up on his ministrations.

He tilts his head up to place a couple of chaste kisses on your collar bones before tucking himself into the crook of your neck. They’re crowding all of your senses, so warm and comforting in all the right ways.

Besides all of the bullshit dished out from all of the rich pricks at the party, tonight has been picture perfect.

Definitely something the three of you needed.

“Are we going to fall asleep like this?” You whisper after a few silent minutes, all of your eyes having fluttered shut and breaths evened out to match each other’s.

A chuckle rumbles from Jayce’s chest as he takes a deep breath, letting the two of you go begrudgingly. “We’d all regret it in the morning if we did. I’ve spent too many years falling asleep at a desk, my back is destroyed.”

That seems to humor the room and you swipe your thumb over the apple of his cheek, leaving him with a quick kiss. “Be a dear and blow out those candles for me? Might need to get some new sheets, too.”

With a smile and a kiss to Viktor’s head as well, he stands from the bed as one of his bones pops. You wouldn’t be surprised to find out it was his back— perfect timing,

“Don’t even lift a finger.”

You fall back into Viktor when his arms wrap around you, sighing dreamily. He yawns against your hair.

“Lay down with me.” You hum simply, letting him guide you onto the mattress with gentle strength. You nuzzle into the left side of his body, going over the logistics in your head: you can sleep in the middle of the two, keeping him to your right so his leg won’t be bothered during the night.

And you say you’re not a considerate lover.

His arm is tucked under your torso and you place your head on his shoulder, breathing in the lingering remnants of his cologne. The smell is much earthier than the hypermasculine one Jayce wears, but you love them equally. They’re so… them.

“I’m just gonna strip the flat sheet, if that’s okay? That’s the only dirty one.” Jayce reappears in your vision and you reply with a sleepy nod. You’ve always found the flat sheet quite useless, anyway. It just gets in the way.

It’s gone quickly, most likely being thrown into the pile of everyone’s clothes at the foot of the bed.

That’s a problem for everyone tomorrow.

The lights flick off and you can just barely see Jayce’s figure as he crosses the room, climbing in quietly on your other side. As if second nature, he’s curling around your back, making sure almost every inch of your skin is touching.

The two of you are obsessed with physical touch, if that wasn’t made obvious already.

“Thank you for allowing me to be here tonight.” Viktor murmurs into the darkness, making room for Jayce’s hand below his arm to wrap around your waist.

As if in sync, the two of you hum in response lovingly, adjusting your bodies under the covers to fill in any gaps of space between all of you. 

“You could say it was a dream come true.” You yawn, allowing a breathy laugh despite your exhausted state. “We should be thanking you, though. You didn’t have to do this.”

“I did it because I love you.”

“I love you.”

“And I love you.” Jayce tacks on softly, intertwining his legs with yours.

Nothing about your lives or relationship is perfect. It’s actually quite imperfect and complicated by anyone’s standards. But moments like these are something you wouldn’t trade for the whole world.

Two of you are dying, one is left to watch it happen. And all three of you are under the magnifying glass of the entire city.

Who needs perfection when you have this?

Chapter Text

It’s utter chaos on the streets.

People are shouting everywhere, some even screaming. Not many seem to be injured outside of the building, but floods of enforcers are pushing their way through the front doors. You wonder how many is too many.

You can only imagine the fist fight you’ll get into trying to force your way in, but standing around like an innocent passerby isn’t exactly an option either.

What are the chances Jayce is in there? 80%? 90?

Through the smoke, employees from the lower floors begin to appear, some completely unharmed or with a small limp. Others are being loaded out on stretchers. If it’s this bad on the lower floors, you can only imagine what happened up top.

You clench your fists at your sides, blinking away the dust in your eyes as you begin to devise a plan. With all of the people around combined with the smoke, you could sneak your way through, act like another confused employee to make your way to the Council room.

You’d probably need to dirty yourself up a bit, but it could work.

Your plan is immediately shaken from your thoughts when someone whizzes past you. A moment goes by before you realize it’s Jayce. And he’s carrying something in his arms. Someone.

Viktor.

Your heart sinks into your feet as you turn, its hurried pace carrying your legs to follow your partner. Despite holding another man, he’s hard to catch up with.

“Jay!” You call out to him, watching as his back approaches closer. Above all the yelling and havoc, his step never stutters. “Jayce!” You shout louder, just close enough to catch onto the tail of his coat. 

For a second, he reels back, almost tripping. When he swivels around, Viktor lays limp in his hold, neck lifelessly hanging off of Jayce’s forearm. Blood is soaking into his white jacket, sliding down the older man’s back and arm, dripping from his fingertips onto the stone below.

Your mouth is agape, hurriedly sucking in air that’s full of debris and rubble.

“Viktor–”

“We need to go.” Jayce’s jaw is set roughly and you can see the remnants of tears streaming down his cheeks. 

You step forward, holding out a shaky hand in an attempt to wipe away his tears. “What happened?”

“We have to go, Saphyre.” He shoots back quickly, voice trembling in a desperate plea. 

There will be time to talk about it later. Right now, your only job is to follow him. To save Viktor’s life. Telling by the side street you’ve found yourself upon, he’s headed towards the laboratory. In a last ditch effort, the both of you are hoping science can save him.

Jayce immediately shoulders through the lab door after you unlock it, rushing in to place Viktor upon one of the workbenches in the middle of the room. Formally, it’s used as your desk for all of your assistant work but everything flies off with its new occupant, turned to a medtable.

“Get this off, I need to see him.” His hands reach out for Viktor’s torn button-up before you can reply, ripping it away with complete disregard for the fabric. The legs of his pants have already been scorched off, revealing his metal leg.

You cringe.

The younger man goes straight to his partner’s notes, almost tearing the pages from their binding with the fervor in which he moves. It’s all heavy breaths and choked sobs filling the air.

“I can’t do this again, Vik.” You plead, vision blurred to all hell as you blindly reach out to stroke back his hair, feeling the rubble and explosive powder covering his skin. “I’m not doing it again.”

He’s pale in the lowlight of the lab, so… lifeless.

You’ve seen him in some pretty shit conditions, but this is downright terrifying.

With a pained whimper, you curl over to press a kiss to his lips, chapped and non responding to your touch. The broken remainders of your heart are shattered.

“Jay, hurry.” You cry, glancing over wearily to find the Hexcore where you had left it. Its appearance is all sharp edges and mutated into something unrecognizable. The runes are gone, leaving a purple webbing to case the Arcane inside.

It’s pulsing to life, light and energy blasting from the center.

What the fuck did you do to it?

Jayce seems to notice it too, the both of you observing the way Viktor’s leg thrums in bright light, electricity crackling in the direction of the core. Your chest buzzes and you place a hand over the metal plating under your sweater, attempting to cease the magnetic pull you feel towards it.

Viktor’s body convulses. Something in Jayce’s brain clicks.

He rushes toward the lockers, clicking open one of the doors to pull out a set of his blacksmithing tongs. “Step back.” He plucks the Arcane from its place on the worktop, arms straight forward to keep its magnetism far from his body.

“What are you going to do?” You sniffle, backpedaling away from your lover’s body.

He stares at Viktor for a long second, swallowing thickly before returning his gaze to you. He’s scared.

“Save him.”

The Hexcore’s power grows as it nears closer to its selected victim, a stream of energy flowing between the two subjects. Jayce is fighting its pull with all of his strength as the air pressure whips around the three of you in a powerful cyclone.

In the blink of an eye, the core rushes out of your partner’s grasp, colliding with Viktor’s body in a catastrophic explosion. The room is filled with an overwhelming light, the echoes of the men’s strained shouting echoing in your ears.

Then, nothing.

…

It’s been a few days since the bombing.

A few rough days.

Both you and Jayce have taken up shop in the lab. You have every meal there, crowd your bodies onto the couch together to sleep at night. The only time you’ve been home is to shower and grab the both of you some essentials to keep at your temporary new place.

Jayce has not left once.

Despite everything, the world must go on.

Grief is not a new concept to you. You’ve practically spent your whole life grieving all of the important people in your life, including your own self. Over time, you find ways to keep functioning to make up for the others who can’t.

While the workload has lightened massively, half of the Council is still alive and needs to make plans for moving forward. You’re no Jayce Talis but it’s close enough being his assistant.

Salo, the bastard, is dead-set on invading like merciless animals on the entire underground, innocence be damned. Jinx had ‘proven to be elusive’ and it’s time to make it the entire city of Zaun’s problem.

2-1, against Mel.

Salo wants Hextech.

You almost spoke up there, but Mel was right there with you, refusing the demand. Shoola, surprisingly, agrees on that stance.

2-1, against Salo.

And who’s right there, ready to give out militarian advice? Ambess Medarda. That ‘ambassador’ who was so adamant to see Jayce less than a week ago. The tension between mother and daughter in that room was palpable, thick enough to cut through with your knife.

Just from the way she dragged Salo in with his wheelchair, you can tell there’s something malicious about the woman. That’ll be a fun game to play.

After making your political rounds for the day, you finally call it and grab some takeaway for you and Jayce. That’s the only thing you’ve been surviving on these last few days, but that’s also how you made it through school.

The state of Viktor never fails to be alarming when you first step into the lap. He’s stuck in a standing position, encased in the webbing matter of the Hexcore. There are a calamity of wires and tubes sticking out of the metal framing that keep track of his vitals and brain activity.

It’s a…disturbing sight, to say the least.

The machinery takes up the entirety of the middle of the room and you have to round your barely alive partner to gaze upon your mourning one.

Jayce is sitting at his workstation with an elbow propped on top of the surface, head leaning into his hand. He looks up from his feet as you approach from the shadows, bag of steaming food in hand.

Viktor’s cane is clasped in his hand tightly. It hasn’t left his sight since that night.

“How is he?” Your voice is soft in the still air as you glance to the man surrounded by the downfalls of his own science.

Jayce’s knuckles are resting upon his eyebrow. “The same as before. Breathing.” Golden eyes peek open and you can see the utter exhaustion in them. “Pulse is consistent. Beyond that, your guess is as good as mine.”

You step toward your pale lover, observing the features of his face poking out of the material. His eyes are closed in a deep slumber, yet he looks anything but rested.

The webbing trills every few seconds as it works its magic and you reach up to cup his cheek with a warm hand. Like every time before, the matter reacts to your life force and lunges toward you. You pull away quickly with a sigh.

You’re not sure how much longer your psyche can take this. How much longer Jayce can take.

“Do you know what it’s doing to him?” You swivel on your heel, coming to his side as you slide away some of his work notes, setting the takeaway down.

Even with it right there, neither of you reach for the food. 

“The Hexcore has been… evolving. Shifting through runic patterns faster than I can keep up.” Your eyes draw toward the chalkboard, covered in a multitude of equations and graphs, some papers tacked onto its surface next to the main diagram of Viktor’s body. “All I know for certain is that it’s keeping him alive.”

That’s the best case scenario, right?

With everything you’ve been doing to keep busy and working, you still can’t help but feel useless when it comes to this– the one thing you should be paying attention to. The best you’ve been able to do so far is chart his vitals and make sure Jayce is taking care of himself.

Your hand smooths over Viktor’s latest chartings. His physical vital signs are normal but his brain activity is just high enough to suggest he isn’t brain dead.

“It’s the sort of puzzle Viktor would love if he wasn’t…”

You turn to Jayce as his face twists into anger, fists tightening around your partner’s cane. ”It should be me up there instead of him.”

“Don’t say that.” Your hand lands between his shoulder blades when he hunches over, trying to blink away the sting that lingers behind your eyes. “We’re going to figure this out. He’ll come back to us.”

“I still don’t understand. He was right next to me.” He swipes a hand through the air in frustration. “How does the explosion do that to him, and I just– I just walk out without a scratch?”

You sigh, running your hands up and down the surface of his back. “There’s no sense to these things, Jay.”

Leaning against the desk, you both take a moment to look up at Viktor, listening to the soft hum of the Hexcore. Jayce continues to cradle the cane, leaning its frame against his shoulder.

“How’d it go with the Council?”

Does he really want to know at a time like this? He is still a Councilor, but there’s no good news to be had.

“Mel’s mother has dug her claws into Salo, the little rat.” You ground out, lifting yourself onto the tabletop. “Taking a stab at using Hextech against the underground. I swear, that imbecile thinks he owns the rights to your company just because he invested money.”

There have been many times that you’ve been tempted to rip off that little man’s head. For every second that he’s existed in your universe, you think of all the ways you can take him out; slowly with your knife, your bare hands, with one of his stupid scarves he wears. You should start writing these down.

“Saph, I promised Viktor. Never again.” He pleads, meeting your eyes and you recognize how worn-out he is. Absolutely bone tired. His eyes are blood-shot, most likely from the lack of sleep and crying, the bags under are dark enough to rival your own.

Even simple things like the wrinkles on his forehead are deeper than normal.

Your poor boy.

“It’s okay, Mel handled it. We’re not going to let them corrupt your dream any further.” One of your hands reaches out to cup his cheek, stroking your thumb over the bone there while the other lands on the upper handle of Viktor’s cane.

He looks to you with wet eyes before slinking down, his head falling into your lap. Despite the unwelcoming chill of the laboratory, he’s warm.

You stroke over his hair gently, looking down at his tired form. His broken heart makes him seem smaller against you. 

“Sprout was there.” You murmur quietly, sifting your fingers through the longer strands on the back of his head. He’ll need a haircut soon. “We need to go visit them. It’s enough that we missed the funeral procession.”

You can feel his eyebrows furrow against your thigh as he strokes your clothed leg. “I know.”

Another moment of silence passes as you pet his hair, his fingers following your soothing movements on your thigh.

“We should eat before it gets too cold.” You offer quietly, swiping your hand around to lift up his chin. As your palm caresses the side of his face, he turns to kiss your smooth skin. In an attempt to make him feel even the tiniest bit better, you lean down to capture his lips.

That gives him a small grin.

You return it happily, digging the plastic containers from the bag before offering him his own, accompanied with a fork. You trade his food for Viktor’s cane, carefully leaning it against the table to the side of you.

“Remember when I made him that cane?” Jayce hums, flipping open his container to pick at his food for a moment.

“I remember how excited you were. Used your House colors and everything.”

He lets out a little laugh, then, glancing up at you with a shred of the regular twinkle in his eyes. “I could barely get him to thank me. You had to prompt him to.”

You join in on his laugh, watching him take his first bite of food. For a moment, you wonder if he’ll eat the whole thing this time. “Oh, but you know him. He loved it. I heard him boast to Professor Heimerdinger about it at one point.”

He shakes his head a little, unbelieving but still taking your words.

The two of you take a long few minutes to eat your food in quiet, listening to the soft trills of Viktor chrysalis.

That’s what you’ve come to call it– you always tell Jayce that soon he’ll come out like a beautiful butterfly, cured and untroubled by his diseases. ‘Brand new’ you say.

Jayce pushes his container away when there’s only a few bites left and you internally sigh gratefully. It’s not much compared to his usual appetite, but it’s impressive for what it's been recently.

You dispose of everything silently, going on with your usual routine; chart your lover’s vitals, wash up and settle in for the night. You’ve found it quite calming to open one of the windows and sit at its sill, sketching up a few portraits of the two men. 

The city’s been quiet, for obvious reasons and it leaves the soft hums and coos of animals wandering to soothe your brain.

Your eyes study over the monitor perched behind Viktor’s frame, copying down the numbers onto the clipboard. Per usual, you’ll stand and observe its movements, assuring yourself there aren’t irregularities in your haste of charting his vitals.

“How’s your chest?”

Ah, yes, the age-old question.

After the dust had settled on Viktor’s transmutation with the Hexcore, Jayce promptly asked of your own evolution with the Arcane.

It didn’t take a magnifying glass to notice the way your chest buzzed a light purple, even hours after the event. 

You knew the day would come where you would have to be honest about your actions. Lying about something as life-altering as this is not simple. You had just hoped it wouldn’t be on the same day you watched your lover die.

And for some reason, Jayce understood.

He had told you he was just glad you weren’t swept away like Viktor was.

“Uh,” You stammer for a moment, keeping your eyes on the steady graphings of Viktor’s heart rate. “No complaints. Physically, I’m the healthiest I’ve ever been. I think.” 

You’re not sure if the transformation your body has been subjected to is ‘healthy’, you just know you’re not coughing blood and you’re not in constant pain. That has to be a good sign, right?

Jayce hums in response as you finish drawing in your partner’s brain activity, the gentle scratch of your pen on the paper taking over the room.

With a sigh, you turn back to present the chartings to him, tucking the pen behind your ear. “He’s the same as before, like you said. BPM is seventy-eight and his blood pressure is a perfect one-twenty over eighty. Oxygen saturation is at ninety-nine percent.”

Your fingers swipe over the page as you present the numbers.

“Brain activity is higher than usual, though I’m not sure why. Could be that he’s dreaming?” You shrug a little, looking back at Viktor with a quizzical lilt to your eyebrows.

Jayce joins your stare with a similar look. “Maybe he’s responding to our conversation. He can hear us.”

“With his ears covered in that goo? Yeah right.”

“Let’s test it out. Go back to the monitor.” He replies with a huff, nudging you in the hip with his elbow to urge you on.

With skepticism in your eyes, you do as you’re told, rounding back to the monitor that’s fallen to its normal state. His brain activity lowers but you can see the remnants of its reaction as it slowly pans off of the screen.

“Talk to him.”

Jayce clears his throat with hesitation, revving up to start a conversation with a comatose man. Surely, he’s done stranger things.

“Turns out I’m not as smart as I thought I was. The Hexcore is shifting through patterns faster than I know what to do with. I’ve been drawing some out and there’s a handful of runes that we’ve never seen before. It seems as if the variations are completely randomized– nothing is consistent enough for me to go off of. I wish you were here so we could bounce ideas off of one another…”

And just as he predicted, Viktor’s brain activity spikes in reaction to his lover’s voice. Even after Jayce finishes speaking, the movement continues as if he’s responding.

It’s incredible.

“I think he’s trying to reply to you.” You smile, lips splitting open with a grin that reaches ear to ear. This is the first good news you’ve received in a long time. Your Viktor is still in there.

He hurriedly rushes from his seat, at your side in a matter of moments to catch the tail end of the activity. “Holy shit,” He whispers out softly, turning to you as if to ask, ‘Are you seeing this, too?’

Testing your luck, you come around to stand in front of your trapped partner, roving your eyes over his features like he’ll suddenly wake up and fall into your arms.

“I have a few new sketches I’ve been working on of you. After all of these years, I finally committed your smile to memory. I bet I could paint both of you with my eyes closed, by now.” Jayce gives you a thumbs up behind the metal frame, rolling his wrist to have you continue.

“I’m…sorry for going behind your back. I was fucking stupid to mess with something I know nothing about. I mean, you’re right, I could have killed myself. I think I had just finally come to my lowest point of desperation and somehow still had some confidence to think I was knowledgeable enough to do something absolutely insane. I know apologizing can’t change anything, but I’m just hoping that you don’t hate me.”

Wow, way to spill your guts there.

“He’s responding.”

With no facial expressions or body language to be shown, you don’t know if he’s trying to shout at you or accept your apology.

Knowing him, it’s a little bit of both.

After a moment of staring at that inexpressive face, you sigh.

“I love you.”

You hear Jayce let out a choked whimper and you immediately return to his side, noticing the way his eyes shine in the low light. “He says ‘I love you’.” A large finger points to three peaks in the chart as they flow out of view.

You choke back your own sob.

What a depressing, fucked up way of expressing your love to someone. But it’s the best you can do, considering the circumstances.

After days of being the strong, stoic partner, you let yourself crumble under the emotion. Your eyes are on fire as your vision warbles with the pools of tears collecting in your waterline and you tuck yourself into Jayce’s chest. You can feel your bottom lip quiver against his shirt as he holds you tightly.

He hugs you like you’ll disappear into thin air if he lets go.

You’re not sure how much time passes as you sob against one another, his shirt soaked in tears while his own drip into your hair. The two of you are rarely like this and almost never at the same time.

It’s a different kind of love, sharing the same suffering and allowing yourself to convey those deep emotions openly.

It’s poetic, in a way.

…

It’s a beautiful day to be roaming in the Kiramman’s garden, sun shining high in the sky with a slight breeze in the air to ruffle the flowers and leaves about gently.

The perennial geranium flowers are in full bloom this time of year, spreading around the entire core of the garden, surrounding the large, handmade wind spinner. Petals of purple cover the grass, especially thick under the wisteria tree Caitlyn sits under.

Cassandra loved her flowers and the color purple, she was a simple woman of simple pleasures. There were countless evenings when her and Tobias would sit on one of the many benches in the garden while you played with Cait.

You miss those days dearly.

You and Jayce approach her from behind, hand and hand as you step through the sea of lilac. He had been sure to make the trip back to the apartment to clean up and change into nicer clothes, looking brighter than ever.

“Hey, Sprout.” He announces gently as you stop at the circle of stone benches. The sound of his voice pulls her out of her reverie, shooting up in alarm. Quickly, she notes it’s only the two of you and relaxes.

You give her a soft smile, finding your place at her side on the seat.

“How’d you find me?” She lets your arm snake around her waist, pulling her slim frame close to yours. She tilts her head down as you place a kiss into her hair.

Jayce is quick to follow your movement, settling down on her other side with a small grunt. “Your dad.”

Despite the look in his eyes, Tobias seemed quite put together when he opened his front door. You’ve known the man long enough to see his pain, no matter how big or small. It was easy to trap him in a drawn out hug, allowing him to sway your bodies side to side in a calming fashion.

“Remember when we used to come here as kids? Play in the garden?” Caitlyn hums, resting her temple on the apex of your shoulder.

It seems as if you both are in a nostalgic mood.

“I was just telling Jay about that. We’d spend hours out here, rolling through the flowers. Your mother would get so mad and have to corral us back inside the house.” You can’t help but let out a small chuckle, remembering the way Cassandra would tug you by the ears while Tobias pleaded for her to ease up on you.

She mirrors your laugh as you both look out into the garden, watching the wind slowly tussle about the wind chimes at the top of the spinner.

The breeze gently licks through your hair, ruffling it away from your ears to let in the quiet whistle 

“I’m sorry we haven’t been around.” Jayce’s voice rings through the silence.

“How’s Viktor?”

The two of you sigh simultaneously.

You may not have the answers to all of your problems, but at least you have some good news.

“We have a monitor set up to detect his brain activity and he reacts to our voices. He seems to respond to our conversation. But, that’s about all.” Jayce fiddles with the edge of his sleeve sticking out from his suit coat, neck slumped over.

Cait lifts her head from your shoulder, running a delicate hand through her silky hair. “Ever since it happened…three faces keep spinning through my mind.”

“I see Mother. When they found her. And every fiber of me just sinks, like a stone swallowed in dark water. But then, there’s Jinx. Laughing. I want to tear that laugh from her throat forever.” Her face twists into anger, disgust written all over.

In an act of self preservation, you suppress a flinch at her fury. Her emotions are completely justified, but that’s your Powder.

Then again, you don’t know Jinx. 

Jayce quickly notices your discomfort and lifts a hand to her shoulder to stop her. “Cait.”

“I know. I just understand now how easy it is to hate them. One vicious act.”

Her choice of words make you feel uneasy. You understand she’s speaking from grief and anger, but maybe it would have been better to let your lover go alone to visit Caitlyn.

“And then I see Vi.” Okay, this you can get down with. “I asked her to put on the uniform. Suffice to say, she declined.”

Yeah, that’s your Flower. No matter what she’s faced with, she’ll stick to her morals. You taught her well, fuck those pigs. Well, aside from Caitlyn, that is.

Jayce huffs out a small laugh under his breath. “Vi? Wear a badge?”

He doesn’t have to know Violet to understand her.

Cait shrugs her shoulders, head tilting toward him. “She thinks those gauntlets of yours will solve all her problems.”

Your partner sighs, chin falling down into his chest once more. He has a debating look in his downturned eyes and you know he’s pondering his own morals. If this is what Hextech was truly meant to be.

“Hextech may keep us alive, Jayce, but it’s not what will save us.”

“It’s not your dream.” You add on softly as Caitlyn falls back into your shoulder, her head fitting perfectly in the curve.

Jayce takes a moment before following her movements, settling onto his found sister.

For a minute, you realize this is the first bonding moment the three of you have shared in years. Growing up, life has kept you far more than busy and you’ve grown apart. But, when it comes down to moments like these, it’s as if time never passed and you’re still stupid teenagers poking at an angsty little girl.

“We should get to the memorial here soon, hm? Should be starting within the hour.”

Suddenly, one of the Kiramman’s servants appears from behind the three of you. “Ma’am, your carriage is here to take you to the memorial service.” You recognize her, Francesca, you think?

“Like clockwork.” You laugh quietly, watching as the other two sit upright to stand. You give Francesca a kind smile and Caitlyn steps forward with a small nod. 

She looks back at you. “Want a ride?”

You glance at Jayce and he shrugs his shoulders indifferently. “Beats walking.”

…

It’s rather nice standing in the front row of a ceremony, opposed to being in the wings or further back with the rest of the civilian crowd. It makes you feel important, next to Jayce with his arm wrapped around your middle to keep you close. Not that you’d get lost or anything.

Cait is only a few people to your right and you glance at her every few minutes, checking on her. Every other time, you’ll accidentally catch Salo’s eyes and he never fails to give you a displeased frown. 

He’s lucky he’s in that wheelchair.

Mel takes the stage and everyone in the crowd straightens up in the slightest, conversation falling from its quiet hum to a complete silence. Not many in the ‘privileged’ section have taken to talking, every individual impacted in their own way to muteness.

The Councilor sets down her notes on the podium, taking in a sharp breath as she stares into the sea of people, grief written all over her face. She adjusts one of the microphones with a sigh.

“One of the many privileges of serving as your Councilor is having the occasion now and again to stand behind this podium to behold so many joined together. Not by birth or dictum, but by all that we share. Our hope. Our curiosity. Our compulsion to leave behind us a world better than before.”

You feel a rush of wind at your tail and you can help but look, finding a figure shrouded in a veil directly behind you and Jayce. They say nothing, so you pay them no mind.

“These things we share are what make us one people.”

Mel looks over the crowd once more, scanning the many faces– familiar and those not. You can tell she sees the fear, anger and hate taking over the city, but diplomatically hopes that a speech can reunite your people.

The Heimerdinger way.

Seems like he did know what he was talking about.

“Today, we share an unthinkable loss.” A spotlight begins to open up from above on the statues behind her, illuminating their golden glow. “Councilor Irius Bolbock, Councilor Torman Hoskel and Councilor Cassandra Kiramman were taken from us.”

You swallow thickly, averting your eyes from the sculpting of your mother’s face as you squeeze Jayce’s hand. He returns the pressure, placing a kiss on your temple lovingly.

“But they shall not be forgotten. We commissioned this statue so we may remember them for their countless contributions…their lifetimes of service. Not for the craven act that stole them away.”

“Though we’ve suffered a terrible blow, I assure you, the rule of law prevails in Piltover. We will find those responsible. And they will account for their crimes.”

Something shifts in the air and you barely turn over your shoulder to peek at the veiled figure lingering behind you. 

“Awful, isn’t it? Losing a loved one.” 

Jayce turns as well and you just catch the helmet of an enforcer ascending the steps to the stage in your peripheral vision. Something isn’t right.

In less than a second, the veil is ripped from the figure and the ominous glow of a toxic green light flashes through your vision. The two of you are just in time to lunge out of the way, Jayce just by the hair of his chin. Well, if he had any, really.

Stumbling back, a woman is swinging a modified chainsaw through the air, the same toxic green flowing through tubing attached to a machine on her nose– or where her nose used to be. 

You’ve never seen her in your life. Why is she attacking you?

In the next moment, a gunshot rings through the crowd’s screaming, a flare shooting through the ceiling to rise high in the clouds.

All hell breaks loose.

People immediately are taking off towards the exits, tripping and stumbling over one another as they hold onto their children or lovers.

“You aren’t safe up here, toppers!” A man– the one you thought to be an enforcer taking the stage, yells into the chaos, holding his gun above his head as red fills the sky. “None of you are safe!”

Jayce is quick to pull you away from the woman, watching as an enforcer steps forward, rifle pointed at her face. Sparks fly as his bullets impact with the steel of her chainsaw, dodging with great agility before she’s swinging her weapon again. Blood splatters on your face and the uniformed man is lifeless on the ground.

Her eyes are fixed on your partner.

You immediately reach for the dead man’s rifle like it’s second nature, re-cocking the chamber. One shot to her thigh. She staggers.

You’re a Kiramman. You know how to use a gun.

Glass shatters from above as highly mechanised men rocket toward the ground, slicing away anyone in their path. Their suits glow a vibrant purple– Shimmer.

In your distracted state, the woman throws you to the side with the engine of her chainsaw. You skid across the stone, rifle dragging loudly beside your body. Blinking away the dust, Jayce has grabbed one of the metal barriers, keeping the woman at bay as he backpedals up the stage stairs.

“Go! Go help Caitlyn!” He shouts, thrusting the barrier against the whirring blade.

He’ll be fine. He’ll be fine. Find Caitlyn.

Your hand grips around the rifle’s metal barrel as you lift yourself onto your feet, watching your sister fire ruthlessly at the mechs tearing through enforcers.

Pushing your legs to approach her side, you lift the gun to hone in on a purple helmet. “Just like the shooting range, huh?” You quip, firing into the suit’s glass.

“Hope you’re a better shot than before.” She teases, taking her own aim.

The remaining Councilors are being hauled into a carriage on the far side of the event space, Salo being lifted under his arms by two enforcers before Shoola follows. You can only hope Mel’s already secured inside.

“Aim for their pipes!” Cait yells, rolling out of the way as a mech charges toward you. You’re able to side step the creature, loading another bullet into the chamber before aiming at its sweet spot. Fumes of purple erupt from its shoulder before collapsing face-first into the ground.

Were you that bad of a shot as a kid?

As your eyes scan the area, you catch sight of Violet, climbing the gathering of metal crates and scaffolding to the side of the hall.

Like a sisterly instinct, your feet carry you there.

It seems as if Caitlyn has beat you to the punch as you watch her blue locks round the corner of a metal container, disappearing from view. The next moment, you hear her scream blare in your ears.

Double sisterly instinct.

In your approach, Vi zips across the top of a crate, jumping on top of a mech that has its steel hands wrapped around Cait’s throat. She swings her legs around its head, slamming its helmet into the stone below.

She crashes to the ground and it’s quick to regain its footing, a glowing blade being thrust toward her face. You’re running off of pure adrenaline and you know it, firing at the base of its blade to throw the weapon off course, watching it embed into the metal beside her.

In all of her wisdom, Violet launches herself onto its back, latching onto the hand wheel on the backside of its helmet. Muscles straining, she rips the entire thing off, another round of Shimmer smoke erupting from the headpiece.

You watch as Caitlyn offers Vi a hand from where she is on the ground. It’s gladly taken. 

“That’s my fucking sister!” You ruffle a hand through pink hair proudly and she shines under your praise, looking back to the taller girl with a smile.

The stone shakes under the weight of the largest mech, seething over the Councilor’s carriage that’s been tipped on its side.

Shit.

“Get the Councilors out of here.” Vi’s gaze is pointed upward at the laboratory building. “I have an idea.” You’re a little scared to know what that idea may be.

Violet sprints off in the direction of the exit, Cait raising her rifle once more. She turns over her shoulder wearily. “What are you doing?”

She turns to you as you raise your barrel. All you can do is shrug.

The mech paces the perimeter of the tipped carriage like a predator stalking its helpless prey. It plucks an enforcer from the front cabin, dangling her in the air by her foot before another man is taking an axe to its knee joint.

“I need to find Jayce.” You swallow, turning back toward the barren stage, the ruby curtains rustling in the wind.

Caitlyn nods before motioning you off into that direction. “Save your boyfriend.”

With a shit-eating grin, you backpedal away from her. “I told you, I prefer the term ‘partner’!”

You rush to the stairs on the opposite side of the stage just as Vi reappears with the Mercury hammer in hand. What is this girl, the fucking flash?

“Do you know how to use this thing?” She holds it out awkwardly before you take its weight into your hands. You almost let it sink down to your feet before you steady your muscles. 

How does Jayce carry this around like it’s nothing?

“I’ve seen it in action before,” You groan unassuredly, twisting your wrists to tighten your grip on the handle. The four corners of the hammer spread apart, the electric prongs in the center standing by readily.

Through the dust, you watch as your lover crawls out from behind the curtain, his white coat stained crimson from a laceration spread diagonally down his back. The woman from before is right behind him, green liquid burned into one of her cheeks.

She flips the man onto his back with the boot of her heel, standing directly above him with her rotating blade pointed threateningly to his chin. “For my son.”

And you’ve seen more than enough.

Yanking back the handle on the top side of the hammer, the metal prongs begin to draw energy from the Gemstone, creating a large ball of electric energy in its center. A blue light fills the air as the Arcane barrels through, the woman flying off of the stage upon impact.

The energy charges linger in the vacancy of her body, small volts and particles buzzing around Jayce.

He groans in pain, turning to you as the smoke clears, the hammer’s head closing back in on itself. His eyes flicker in recognition, then relief.

“Jay!” Even with the weapon’s added weight, you rush to his side. The mech’s roar pierces through the air and you’re stopped halfway, squinting through the bright stage lights to find Caitlyn and her team of enforcers back to back, surrounded by the lethal machines.

The girl fires once at the largest one’s helmet, only a small crack spider webbing across the glass.

Fuck, the hammer. Use the hammer, Saphyre.

With some help from Violet, you point the Mercury Hammer at the Shimmered mechanic, the familiar vibration of the Gemstone’s innerworkings revs up as the four corners separate once more.

In your haste, you tug roughly at the handle. It closes.

“Shit.”

Bullets continue to rain on the rushing creature as you pull on the handle a few more times, to no avail.

A bloodied hand lands but above yours, twisting the hammer’s main stem. It fires back up. Jayce’s eyes are already on you, expressing every ounce of encouragement he can manage in his injured state through honey irises.

Vi assists you in lifting the head once more, the wind whipping around your heads. The mech’s bladed hand swings outward in its final attack just as the hammer releases its charge, bee-lining towards its target.

Just before the magic can land, a large javelin is thrown through the creatures’ helmet, piercing through its skull. Many more are thrown into the remaining mechs, every one of them dropping to the ground with a resounding thud.

Pools of Shimmer leak from the bodies, seeping into the cracks of the stone.

Through the chaos, all of your heads dart toward the source of the attacks, finding a small group of oversized soldiers dressed in red armor. 

In the center, Ambessa Medarda.

For the love of all the Gods.

…

“I have to make weapons.” Jayce grunts out, sitting backwards on the toilet seat as you prepare your needle and thread to stitch him back together. You had to force him to come back home, not having the proper first-aid kit in the laboratory.

He needs to wash up and change clothes, anyway.

You sigh as you tie off the thread through the eye of the needle, dropping your hands into your lap as your forehead makes contact with the warmth of his bare shoulder. You had already cleaned his wounds thoroughly, wiping away the clotting to ensure a proper stitching.

“Weren’t we just talking about this?” Only hours earlier were you and Caitlyn assuring him that Hextech wouldn’t need to get involved with the invasion. 

A few days before that, he begged for the Council to keep his work out of it.

For Viktor.

His back is slumped over as you lean into him, elbows resting on the toilet’s tank. “Things are different now, it’s gone far enough. You’ve seen what the Gemstones are capable of.” Yeah, murder.

“What would Viktor say?”

The muscles in his shoulder blades strain as he runs both of his hands through his unkempt hair with a huff. “Does it really matter? He’s in a coma, Saph, he can’t even speak to us.”

“He would say no. He would work with you to come up with any other option to fix this. Coma or not, he’s still your partner.”

You lift yourself from his back, steadying your fingers near the base of his wound to create the first stitching. His breath hitches at the first poke, settling in by the third and fourth. Aside from the tension lingering in the bathroom, he sits rather still for you to do your work.

“I almost died today.” Jayce points out harshly, as if that will help prove his point any further.

“Yeah, we all did. Now we owe our lives to Ambessa Medarda, of all people.” You know virtually nothing about the woman, besides what Mel has shared. 

She’s a dictator, exiled her only daughter at a young age and never thought twice about it. She’s all tough skin with an even rougher attitude. All she’s known is war and never shared the empathetic love to her child when she needed it.

That, and she’s stuck her nose into another nation’s business unprecedentedly.

So, excuse you if the woman leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“Look, I’m not saying that you aren’t allowed to do this. I’m not shareholder or co-creator, I’m not even a scientist, for fuck’s sake. I just want you to keep in mind the repercussions this can have– not only on you, but Viktor as well.”

He stays silent as you continue to stitch, the muscles in his lower back tensing as you work your way up to his shoulder.

You fall into the silence.

You hadn’t intended for this to become an argument. Things are just so incredibly stressful and fucked, it was only a matter of time before it got to you.

Near-death experiences can do that.

As you pass over the ridge of his spine, you take a moment to wipe away the blood leaking from the jagged opening, also checking the dependability of the stitch itself. “Who was that woman?”

“It’s kind of a story.” He clears his throat, letting his muscles relax in the absence of the needle.

Your eyebrows raise in piqued interest. “Shoot.”

You can hear the gears turning in his head over a long minute of quiet. “On the day of the attack, Vi and I went to the underground to investigate one of the Shimmer production sites.”

“Investigate or attack?” You chuff, setting down your bloodied cloth to continue your ministrations.

“Shut down, actually. Our team of enforcers had all of the workers restrained when a group of those…things came. I had the hammer and Vi the gauntlets, and we had no choice but to take care of them. One of my shots was misplaced, a kid got loose and…it must’ve been her son.”

Your touch moves toward his shoulder, gently tugging his skin taught together. “The kid died?”

“I killed him, Saph.”

You can only shrug a bit. Any normal person would be devastated knowing their lover took the life of a child– hell, Jayce seems broken up about it enough for the both of you.

But, with all of the events leading up to this moment, his mother being a murderous criminal that was assisting in the efforts of Silco’s corruption…

Something was bound to happen.

That child shouldn’t have been working in that factory in the first place, and the only one to blame is his mother.

“Yeah, well, I killed his mom. So…he won’t be alone, I guess.” Your molars bite into the soft skin on the inside of your cheek as you pluck through your final stitchings, releasing the needle to tie off the thread. “Plus, it’s not the first life I’ve snuffed out. The world keeps on turning.”

Hopefully being a murderer isn’t a deal breaker for this relationship.

Your nimble fingers ravel the small string into a strong knot, gathering up a clean cloth to swipe away any lingering blood. Then, you reach for a roll of bandages.

“I can tell– considering how well you were handling that rifle.” Jayce’s torso bounces lightly as he chuckles, tilting his chin over his shoulder to gaze back at you. He doesn’t seem to be disappointed or disgusted. He looks like he was just told that the sky is blue.

Simple. Unbothered.

“I lived under Cassandra Kiramman’s roof. Of course I know how to use a gun.”

It’s funny. The moment you gained her trust, she was shoving a rifle into your hands, taking you out to her personal range to train you. Caitlyn was too young at the time and it seemed as if the woman had been itching her entire life to pass on the gunslinger knowledge.

Though, you can’t top Cait. Must be in the Kiramman blood.

“When I lived in the undercity, I was way into knives. You would never see me get into a scrap without one on me. My moves are quite rusty now.”

You used to have an entire cabinet of knife tricks, some for combat and others just neat party tricks to show off. The kids loved them.

Starting at the center of his back, you unroll the bandages and reach around his middle, coming up around his shoulder to wrap his puckered wound tightly in cotton. He watches closely when your hands come into his field of view. “I learn new things about you everyday.”

After a few passovers, you tuck the end amongst the rest of the bandages. “Gotta keep things exciting for you.” You hum softly, a reserved grin spreading over your lips.

Grabbing a square of cotton padding, you hold it to the laceration on the meat of his opposite shoulder, allowing him to replace your grip to bandage him there. You didn’t expect to be such a good nurse– though, you’re not sure your bedside manner is the greatest.

When everything’s said and done, you fall back onto your heels to observe your work.

Definitely not perfect, but hopefully good enough to prevent infection. Who knows what kind of filth was left on that chainsaw blade.

Slowly he rotates himself on the toilet lid to face forward, thighs opened to give space for your kneeled body. “Thank you, baby.” He coos, hands reaching out to cup both of your cheeks, lifting your face to place a tender kiss upon your lips.

You oblige his touches gladly, wrapping your palm around one of his strong wrists to stroke the pad of your thumb over the pulse point there.

“I’m going to make Cait weapons,” He starts wearily, eyes dropping from your combined gaze to your hold on him. “It’s the only way I can be helpful.”

If this is the only way…

“I trust you’ll do what’s best.”

He nods, giving you another kiss as a small thanks.

“But don’t think I won’t babysit you in the forge, I can’t have you overworking yourself. Not when you’re like this.” You almost scold like a worried mother, squeezing his wrist with more force than necessary. Just to get your point across.

“Just don’t complain to me when you’re soaked in your own sweat,” He teases lightly, flashing that gorgeous Talis smile. His sharp canines glint in the soft bathroom light, poking into the plush of his bottom lip.

Yeah, whatever.

…

A scoped rifle, a riot shield, a wide-barrelled handgun.

Topped off with the repaired gauntlets.

For two days, you’ve been up and working, gladly going sleepless in the pursuit of finishing these weapons. Well, maybe not ‘gladly’ for you, but certainly for Jayce.

By the morning of the second day, Caitlyn and the rest of her force stop by to pick them up. The three unfamiliar enforcers give Viktor quite the look when they’re met face to face with his condition, but you’re able to wave them off rather quickly with the joy of heavily modified weapons.

Vi and Cait actually give him a goodbye before you kiss them on their heads to send them off, telling them to just come back alive.

They’re on a manhunt for a long-lost sister– the girl who single handedly killed three Councilors, along with tens of other civilians. You wish you could see her before she’s behind the bars of a Stillwater cage.

Promptly after their exit, you fall asleep on the couch. You charted Viktor’s vitals, filed all of the new weapons blueprints and fed yourself and your lover.

A well deserved rest is overdue.

Jayce insisted on staying up to go over more of his partner’s notes, realizing that he can finally reinstate his sole focus on the man. Maybe a switch of gears for a moment is all he needs to refresh his brain.

The sound of someone’s grunting is what wakes you from your slumber, metal clanging against the stone floor.

Viktor, in all of his steel glory, has escaped from his webbed nightmare, leaning heavily against his cane as he slowly approaches Jayce’s sleeping form on one of the workbenches.

He’s…changed.

His entire body– save for the center most parts of his face, has been transformed into the metal mutations that once consumed only his leg. The same that is trapped around your chest. Between the carvings of his faux muscles, vibrant purple lights thrum softly, detailed gold accents scattered across his body.

The intricacies of his chest look similar to yours, though shaped in the same structure of his back brace. It’s as if its form was seared into his skin with the transfiguration.

Your breath is trapped inside of your lungs, unable to create a single noise as he approaches his partner on shaky legs. He doesn’t seem to notice your presence, focus locked in on the other man.

“Jayce?” His voice is warped in a robotic fashion, its deep reverberation vibrating through the lab.

Jayce immediately shoots up from his hunched position, startled and quickly swiveling around in the stool to face his lover with a hand gripping his wounded shoulder.

He blinks away the sleep from his eyes, shock sweeping over his features as he begins to hyperventilate from the insanity of it all. “Viktor?” Familiarity and relief replaces the shock in his eyes. “My Gods.”

“Darling,” You choke on your own air, lifting yourself from the couch in one swift movement. “My beautiful Vik, look at you.” For a moment, instead of choking on air you’re gagging down sobs.

Viktor’s hair is still wet from the Hexcore’s capsule, lifting a hand to study his own body with a disoriented lilt to his eyebrows. “What…am I?”

“You’re…you’re alive.” Jayce replies softly, smiling and falling into a disbelieving laugh. The noise is shaken and barren of genuine humor, but it’s a laugh. “You’re alive!” He rushes out of his stool, wrapping his arms tightly around his lover’s neck.

Oh, so naturally, his face finds its usual place in the crook of Viktor’s neck.

Surprisingly, the transmuted man doesn’t return the embrace immediately, looking quite puzzled and taken aback, actually.

Slowly, though, his free hand sneaks up the length of his partner’s back, gently placed upon the space between strong shoulder blades. They stand there for a long moment and you begin to wonder if Viktor is happy to see either of you.

“Oh! Oh, uh…you must be cold.” Jayce’s large hands fit perfectly on the sides of the older man’s neck, thumb passing over a quick caress before retreating to find something warmer.

“Cold. No, I don’t think so.” You step in with a blanket in hand, guiding it slowly over Viktor’s shoulders. His eyes meet yours for the first time. “I sense a…charge. A potential. A recursive impulse.” Your hand smooths over the lining of flesh and steel upon his cheek. “Unpleasant, but…’cold’ isn’t its name.”

He shies away from your touch to glance at his empty chrysalis, oddly colored and mutated from the Arcane. “The Hexcore.”

“Vik, it saved you.” You smile, trying to dampen the worry etched into your expression.

Jayce stammers over his words for a moment. “Somehow it– it adapted to your injuries, changing and evolving.” He steps back toward the table, scooping up a pile of papers. “It’s as if it was…connected to you.”

He offers them outward to share the sight with the shorter man. “I did my best using the notes from your leg– recorded everything. There are still so many questions, but–”

“I was supposed to die.”

Both of you freeze, sucking in a sharp breath as you stare at Viktor.

“You promised to destroy the Hexcore.”

You take a small step away from his space, noticing the small hints of malice lingering in the air. “No, Vik. Don’t you see? Heimerdinger was wrong.” 

The younger man motions outward with the notes, desperation lingering in his voice. “We were wrong. It’s not as bad as we–”

“It almost killed Saphyre, Jayce. Almost killed me.” Viktor deadpans, the same contemplative expression beginning to grow assertive as he connects the dots, his memories slowly flowing back into his brain.

Jayce makes a small noise of denial.

In your haste to prove your thriving health, you grip onto a metal hand. “No, I’m fine, Darling. I’m better than ever because of this– because of you.”

“Your condition will only continue to worsen after a time. This was not your dream.” He turns to Jayce with downturned lips. “This was not ours.” 

Slowly, he ambles over to the worktop, smoothing a purple hand over your open sketchbook, fingers tracing over graphite lines of himself. It’s a newer drawing– a portrait of his resting face surrounded by a sea of Hexcore webbing.

“I’m going to resign from the Council.” Jayce approaches Viktor from behind, wrapping a strong arm around his thin torso. “I understand now. My place was always here, in the lab, with you.” 

“We’ll make this right. Together.” Honey eyes glance at your shaken form, arms wrapped around your own middle to find comfort in this troubling situation.

The older man’s steel hand continues to stroke over the page for a moment, before collecting it from the desk. “I must say goodbye to this place now. To the both of you.”

One of your trembling hands reaches out for your sketchbook as he turns to walk out of the lab, cane clinking against the stone floor. “Goodbye?”

“Viktor, you’re our partner.” Jayce follows the other man’s movement, face twisted in a growing frustration.

“Our paths diverged long ago. It was… affection that held us together.”

The word is foreign on his tongue, his tone warping into something alien.

There’s a pregnant pause that feels like it lasts for ages. 

“You think it’s so easy ? To turn your back while your whole city looks to you for salvation?” Your lover’s frustration has turned to anger. “To cling to principles while your lover bleeds out in your arms? I never asked for this!”

You can see the tears begin to well up in his eyes and you step toward him, placing a gentle hand on the outside of his bicep to keep him at bay. Though, you’re sure it won’t do much.

Viktor turns without uttering a single word, content with disappearing like he had never existed.

“Where are you going?” You cringe at the break in your voice, trying to speak through a growing lump in the back of your throat.

“Goodbye, Saphyre.”

The sound of his cane scraping across the floor slowly fades away as the lab door clicks shut.

Despite the stinging in the sockets of your eyes and the warble to your bottom lip, no tears can escape you. No sounds. No movements. You just stare at the outline of Viktor’s body in the Hexcore’s sarcophagus.

The only thing that’s left of him.

“Fuck-!” Jayce swivels on his heels to slam his palms onto the table, tools rattling on the surface. “All of that time, just for him to– to leave?” Despite the shouting, you can hear the trembling in his voice, the whine and choked sob that threaten to leave his throat.

And all you can do is stand there. Blankly.

Not an ‘I love you’. Not a single kiss. Not an embrace so you can feel his arms around you one final time. Nothing but a faraway look in his eyes before he takes your work without a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’.

“What are we supposed to do now?”

You swallow thickly, listening to the quiet creak of your metal chest. “I have to go.” A whip of wind slashes behind you and you can feel the retort on his lips. “I need to figure this out. Find Heimerdinger or Singed, I don’t know.”

“Saphyre, I–”

“Jayce. My beautiful boy. Love of my life,” You turn to face him, shunted steps drawing you near to his body. Your palms find the curve of his cheeks and jaw, memorizing their warmth and shape. “Take care of things up here while I’m gone. Take care of Mel and Tobias. I’ll be back before you know it.”

His mouth sinks open, hands wrapped around your wrists in case you attempt to escape his hold. “Baby, I don’t understand…”

A small smile rises on your lips before you press them against his, holding him close to engrave this memory into your mind forever. 

Just in case.

“It’s okay, my Love. Don’t worry about me. I’ll come back to you in one piece, I promise.”

With a weighted hesitation, he condedes with a simple nod.

“I love you, more than life itself. You know that?”

“I love you more than anything, Saph.”

…

Now, where would a 315 year-old yordle go after he’s been cast away from his own society?

Not a single soul has seen him roaming the streets of Piltover since the incident and there’s just no way he would sail out to another country, so…

He has to be in Zaun.

Ah, fuck it. You can handle digging up some old trauma.

The sun is only beginning to make its descent when you cross the thresholds of the two cities, some of the enforcers working the bridge recognizing you and skipping out on the full search and pat-down.

Not that the city really cares what you bring into the undercity, only what you’re bringing out. So, your trusty knife shoved into the waistband of your pants isn’t much of a problem.

Going into the shadows of the underground, you have no plan– where you’re going to stay, who you’re going to find or talk to. You’ve only the slightest hope that Babette will let you stay for a night or two, maybe give you a few scraps of information about a small, furry man.

Not that you think Heimerdinger oftens the brothel but she is also a yordle, so who knows.

Step one: Brothel.

You remember it to be on the ground floor, maybe a few blocks away from The Last Drop? Worse comes to worst and you can follow some of the wandering skeezy men and you’ll surely find the place.

And that isn’t a comment on Babette’s taste in clients. Or it is.

The familiar pink glow of the lustful lights comes into vision, covering a large area of the street in its alluring glow. 

A bunch of men and women of all sizes and races are leaning against the wall with little to no clothing, money-hungry eyes scanning people as they pass. 

Yep, definitely the place.

“Hello, beautiful.” A woman steps in front of you and you almost fall straight into her, steps stuttering at such an intrusion. When you lift your head from where you almost had fallen face-first into her breasts, you have to remind yourself of your scientists.

Because, fuck, she is gorgeous. Her hair is a deep red color, flowing over her shoulders in loose waves, eyelashes batting as she attempts to draw in your undivided attention.

“Wandering the streets by yourself at night? Pretty thing like you should be careful, maybe find somewhere to spend the night.” Her voice is like velvet, silky smooth and saccharine cascading over the ridges in your brain.

Being with two men for so long made you forget enticing women are. Especially Zaunite women.

Her fingers come forward to sweep back some stray hairs from your forehead, lingering seductively. You give her a coy grin. “You’re absolutely stunning, baby, but I’m looking for Babette. Have you seen her?”

Her smile never falters, seemingly grateful for your respectful manners in turning her down. “She’s just inside at the front desk.” Her head sways toward the front entrance, hair catching in the quiet breeze.

“If you change your mind, my name’s Scarlet.”

Scarlet. Outstanding. And quite fitting.

“Thank you, sweet thing.” You give her a small wink, bottom lip getting trapped in between your front teeth. As you walk away your eyes widen as the interaction settles in.

Fuck, Saphyre, reel it in, will you?

Pushing open the ruby colored door, it sounds a quiet bell chime, Babette looking up from her books behind the desk.

The place has really come together over the past 8 years– it’s covered in gold and red tones from ceiling to floor, Babette’s powdered face illuminated by a lavish desk lamp with a few roses laid out under the shade.

She’s dressed her best, as always. A strapless, laced dress, her signature purple boa rested comfortably around her mid back and arms. 

In just the way you had hoped, her face lights up when she sees you.

“My sweet Saphyre! I never thought I’d have the pleasure to see your face again!” She’s immediately sliding from her chair, taking the few steps forward to grasp one of your hands. Her cherry lips press against the back of your palm, leaving an imprint.

You smile widely, feeling the relief of seeing a familiar face. You’ve been gone for so long that every person you’ve crossed so far has been a stranger.

The only other people you do know are either dead, a criminal or in a life or death fight.

And all of the friends you made back when you were a kid are either long gone or continuing to hide in the shadows of the Lanes.

Not that many would recognize you, anyway, in your posh Piltie getup.

“Babette, looking beautiful as always. How have you been?” You give her the same coy smile as you had given the woman from before, though this one is more genuine.

She waves you off with a manicured hand, stepping back toward the light of the front desk. “Oh, such a charmer. I’ve just been business as usual, giving the underground a taste of true ecstasy. I have more clients than ever.”

And you believe her. In times like these, people get desperate for the comfort of another– soft caresses and sweet kisses. A few good fuckings here and there.

“What are you doing all the way down here? Looking for a good time?” She wiggles her eyebrows at you suggestively and you have to laugh at her antics.

You’re happy to know some things never change.

“Actually, I’m looking for someone. And possibly getting a room for the night– preferably without a companion, if at all possible?” Your relationship with your boys isn’t what you’d call perfect right now, but you have the morals to know what lines cannot be crossed.

“Have I heard that before.” She rolls her eyes lightheartedly, rounding the desk to skim over her bookings. “It’s my job to know every face in town. Lay it on me.”

This’ll be a stretch.

Slowly, you approach the table-top, glancing over your shoulder when laughter erupts from the hallway, dropping completely silent as a door clicks shut.

Damn, these rooms have to have the best soundproofing in all of Runeterra.

“It may be a bit of a long shot, but I’m looking for a man named Heimerdinger. He’s a yordle, big mustache, very furry, the same height as you. He’s definitely not the type of guy to show his face around this kind of establishment, but maybe you’ve heard of him?”

Babette lifts her gaze from the pages, staring into open space as she scans her brain with the given information.

Really, it’s the best description you can give. What else is there to say? ‘Big mustache’ has to hit the nail on the head.

“I’ve heard of him, a new traveler roaming around the Lanes, but I don’t believe I’ve ever seen him. And I would remember seeing another yordle. I mean, you know how rare we are around these parts.”

And if only she knew how rare they are topside.

You swear, you’ve only met Babette and Heimerdinger and seen a few others in passing in Zaun.

A sigh escapes you as you shift on your feet. “Ah, I assumed so. He hasn’t been here for long and I’m sure he’s kept his head down. Worth a try though.”

“Should I ask why you’re looking for him?”

“No, probably not. It’s quite the story.”

She simply nods her head, pursing her lips before turning back to the open pages. Her nail grazes over rows of flamboyant writing, finally tapping on an open space. 

“You’re lucky. I’ve got an open room for the night. And here I was, about to invite you to stay with me,” She teases, lipstick shining in the low light as she grins.

Honestly, you’ll take whatever you can get, at this point. You’d definitely rather the room, though. Not that you’re uncomfortable with Babette but…

It’s like sharing a bed with your hooker grandmother. Lovely on paper but surely a headache.

“I owe you one.” You watch her ballpoint scribble in your name in the blank space, claiming it as your own.

She raises her eyebrows with a knowing look, clicking the pen closed. “You owe me money. But, I’ll give you half price, since you’re such a sweetheart.” She winks.

Fucking score!

…

You pick up breakfast at the first food stall you come across the next morning. 

With what you had to pay to stay at the brothel and for your food, you realize how ridiculously expensive living in the upper city is. Not that it really matters with how much you make in commissions, combined with your pay as an assistant.

Combined with Jayce’s Councilor money.

Gods, when did you become so privileged?

The thought sends a shiver down your spine.

You have no plan for today. You don’t exactly have a photograph of Heimerdinger to go around shoving in people’s faces– even though you are entirely capable of just drawing up a quick sketch.

Added to the fact that you’re a Piltie stranger to these people and they don’t take kindly to pictures being shoved in their faces with a multitude of questions being rapidly fired at them.

Ah, fuck it. You’ll go to The Last Drop. It’s about noon, that’s late enough to get a few drinks in. You’re going to have to face your past soon enough, why not do it on your own terms?

The square in which the bar sits is exactly the same. Maybe a bit more filthy, but the same, nonetheless.

When you traveled back down with Viktor those few weeks ago, you couldn’t bring yourself to step anywhere near this place. The closest you got was Vander’s statue, which is only a few blocks north of here.

The sight makes your stomach churn.

The bar doesn’t look all too different on the outside, though the folks lingering around the building are far sketchier than what you remember from before. 

Mostly people dressed in nicer clothing with weapons strapped to their belts, who are very obviously a part of the large gangs within the city. There are a few more normal looking stragglers, but nothing to bring any attention to.

Gods, you wish you would’ve brought a change of clothes.

You throw your fucks to the wind as you push open the front doors, met with the overwhelming beat of scratchy music, the roar of conversations and a number of groups separated throughout the main room in what you can only assume are ‘super secret’ meetings.

In the center, there’s two men and a woman playing a round of cards with chips scattered about the table. Majority of them are sitting in front of the woman.

She looks ever so vaguely familiar, but so do half of the people in this town.

Faces that catch your memory for a single second before you take a further look and realize you’d been tricked by your own brain.

The mechanical arm is what throws you off trail. You’d remember a woman with a robotic arm, surely.

Sliding passed conversations and gambling matches, you place yourself in one of the empty stools at the bartop, the server immediately approaching. “Brauhnan neat, please.” The man nods simply and you appreciate it more than he can ever know.

A barman who knows how to mind his own business and cut conversation? A man you can get down with.

In the minute he’s gone, you continue to glance around the room, noticing every small change. The outlay of the inside seems a lot more…modern now, all of the warm lighting turned to abrasive, colorful LED’s. It feels wrong, to say the least.

You draw your eyes back forward when a glass is slid in front of you. You find that you’ve finally become old enough to appreciate brown liquor.

Before you can even draw your first sip, you feel the small creepings of someone approaching your back. You become conscious of the weight of your knife in your waistband. “Hey.” It’s the woman with the mechanical arm.

Her voice is deep, dark skin with strikingly bright eyes, a lightly colored scar crawling up one of her cheeks. It looks like it’s in the same pattern as her veins. What is that?

“You’re Vander’s kid.”

Huh?

How the fuck does she know that?

“Uh…” A nervous breath puffs from your chest. “Do I know you?” The harsh tone isn’t probably a good start, but isn’t everyone an asshole down here? Yes, the answer is yes.

One side of her lips quirk up into a small smirk as her eyes run the length of your body. “Ah, you probably don’t remember me, kid.” Kid? She can’t be that much older than you. “I worked with your dad and Silco for a while.”

Holy shit.

“Sevika?”

Her smirk turns to a full grin– it looks a little alien on her face, considering the dead eyes she has. “Surprised you remember.”

“Well, I used to make Silco and you drinks all the time. It’d be weird if I didn’t.” You think she may have been around 20 when you were 16? Maybe allowing a teenager to mix drinks at the bar doesn’t seem entirely ethical, but it was only during closed hours and only when either Silco, Vander or Felicia were around.

Mostly Vander, though. He’s the barman.

“Speaking of, is he around?” You could definitely have a word or two with Silco. Or maybe just catch up and pretend nothing is happening. He is your uncle, you still hold some sort of love for him, despite everything.

That’s what’s so messy about this whole situation– you love these assholes. This is your fucked up family and you can’t just let that go. Meanwhile, the other half of your family hates them. Being stuck in the middle is the worst.

Sevika’s face goes rigid, nostrils flaring and you can see the switch of light in her eyes. “He’s actually…”

Double holy shit.

Well that’s one problem off of the list, you guess.

“Well, fuck.” Because, what else do you say? “For how long?”

Her lips pull into a tight line as her head tips side to side for a moment. “Same day as the bombing.” Unrelated, you hope. “But we all saw it coming.”

You nod. The empire does have to fall, sooner or later. Though, you’re sure things have only grown more tense in his absence– a lot of people scrambling to fill his shoes and gain the power he once held.

Is Powder one of them? With her being behind the whole attack and how close she was to Silco, it’s only a given, right? If it were you…well, shit.

“Have you seen Powder– sorry, Jinx around, then?” You can’t tell if you feel like shit for getting her name wrong or for the fact that she isn’t your little girl anymore. She had to kill off that part of herself. Just like you did.

Shit. You’re more alike than you thought.

“Ah, you know I’m not a rat…”

Duh. She’s still the most wanted criminal in the city.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Maybe Sevika doesn’t see you as the enemy, but you’re definitely still a rotten topsider. The longer you stay down here, the more you realize how disgusted you are with your own privilege and ‘culture’. “Well if you happen to see her…let her know I’m looking for her.”

She nods her head wearily, giving you a look you know all too well. “Doubt she’ll be happy to hear it.”

And you wouldn’t blame her.

Sevika gives you a pat to your shoulder with her fleshy arm with an awkward line to her lips, giving you a goodbye you’d give to an acquaintance– which, really, that’s what you are. “Good to see you, kid.”

Day two, so far completely unsuccessful. Found familiar faces but none that you’re actually looking for. At least you know you’re not completely alone.

With a sigh, you pick up your glass to take it down in one swallow, slamming back onto the bartop. Slowly, you sink your head down into the close space of your folded arms on the surface.

What were you even hoping to find down here?

You’re no detective and certainly not charming enough to get people to cough up information. You wish you had Vi with you, but she’s on a mission to capture her own blood. For a second, you regret not taking Jayce before realizing he’d be torn to absolute shreds with being ‘The Man of Progress’ and all.

Even having Viktor at your side would make this easier. But he’s the entire reason you're down here.

The room around you grows quiet as your brain slowly tunes everything out, getting lost in your own racing thoughts.

You feel lightheaded but your body feels like a ton of bricks all at the same time. Spots dance behind your closed eyelids as some strange change of air pressure whips around you. Did the bartender spike your drink?

Then, the song on the jukebox changes. Something you haven’t heard in a long time.

Slowly, the chatter of voices returns to your ears, though much softer and livelier than before– like it’s full of genuine conversation instead of business dealings.

A deep voice rumbles over your head.

“My Phyre?”