Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter One

The Meeting

It was a sweltering, humid summer day. Women lazily fan themselves as they move along the avenues and tradesmen wipe the sweat from their brows with dirty rags during their short breaks. Frog song fills the heavy air and the many street cats leave the safety of the alleyways to curl up to sleep in the warm rays of the sun. Down the sloping streets that lead to the dividing river, a small gang of children, freshly released from the shackles of school, race towards the rocky shores of the Pilt. They are soon mirrored by a group of kids on the opposite shore, each hurrying as fast as they can to reach the relief that the icy waters promise.

While the river’s waters may be only questionably clean at best, with pieces of trash and oily residue occasionally floating by, that matters little to the children. For them, the most important things are the small falls that feed into icy pools with large rocks and trees providing ample shade. Plus, no overbearing parents or other adults to spoil the fun. Further along the river as you cross the invisible border from Piltover into the Undercity, the waterfalls grow larger and lead to a series of interconnecting caves where only the bravest kids ever dare to explore. The rumors are that there is a mad scientist who lives in one of the caves and experiments on any child unlucky enough to cross his path. Once all the children meet at the water, they quickly change into swim trunks and begin playing a rousing game of water tag in one of the many rocky pools.

One boy however, isn’t participating. Jayce sits off to the side, tossing stones over the edge of one of the falls while he listens to his friends shriek and splash in the icy water. He is bitterly regretting letting himself get roped into coming here in the first place. Although it is a bit cooler by the river, he is still sweating through his stuffy school uniform even after he removed his jacket and unbuttoned the vest. Nervously, he watches the others as they continue their games. Despite their insistence that he join them, he has been forgotten about and now he’s risked his mother’s wrath for nothing. She was adamant that he return straight home after school and she certainly wouldn’t like him being so close to the Undercity. According to her, it was filled with criminals who would like nothing more than to snatch up a strong, healthy young boy such as himself and the kids from there were just as bad. Criminals in the making, she called them. Nothing but thieves and bullies. Nobody that she’d like her only son to be spending too much time with that’s for sure.

He tosses another stone over, listens to it hit the water, then sighs. He wishes he had brought a book with him if he wasn’t going to swim. In his room, his new copy of “The Marvelous Adventures of Mervin the Magician” was sitting on his bed, begging to be read. Then he remembered why he had needed a new copy in the first place. Perhaps it was better that the book stayed where it was.

While his new school friends were a bit nicer than his old ones, he doubted that they would be all that much kinder than the “friends” who had thrown his last book in a ditch. He startles when one of his friends, Darius he thinks, gives a high pitched scream as he is launched into the water from a makeshift swing. On edge again, he picks at his nails until his heart stops pounding. He contemplates his next move. If he goes home, Helene, their maid, will make him start his summer studies until his mom returns. It would be boring but safe. If he stays here, he might have some fun with his friends and feel like a normal kid for once. Not the kid whose dad had died. Or the kid whose mom had to work all the time to afford his school tuition and uniform. Or worst of all, the kid who wouldn't shut up about magic. But if he stayed, he also ran the risk of getting in trouble. With a groan of frustration, he heaves the largest rock yet over the falls. A small cry floats up from the bottom of the ravine. With a jolt, Jayce rushes to the edge of the ledge. Below him, another boy about his own age is sitting on the shore of the river. He looks up at Jayce owlishly while cradling what appears to be a small boat in his arms.

“Are you ok?” calls Jayce, as he looks for any sign that the other boy was struck by his rock. The other boy nods hesitantly, then turns his attention back to his boat. After waiting for the last ripples from his thrown rock to die down, he starts to wind it with some kind of key. Occasionally he stops to look up at Jayce, as if to check to see if he’s still watching. Then he set the boat in the water. It sputtered for a second, before starting to glide quickly through the waves. Jayce and the other boy follow the boat's journey with their eyes until it stalls in an eddy. Slowly and carefully, the other boy pulls himself to his feet and for the first time, Jayce notices the cane laying next to him.

“Wait there!” he calls again, “I'll help you get it back!” Jayce scrambles up and dusts the dirt off his knees. Then he starts to carefully make his way down the slippery rocks. Once he finally reaches the bottom he gets a better look at the mysterious other loner. He’s smaller than he expected, with large amber eyes and wild chestnut hair that sticks up slightly in the back. His clothes are a rough patchwork of browns and purples and they look as though they were pieced together from scraps of fabric. It makes Jayce want to tug guiltily at his perfectly tailored school uniform.

The other boy grips his cane tightly in his hand as he waits for Jayce to arrive. His grip only grows tighter as Jayce wades into the river and plucks the boat from where it still swirls. Jayce starts to gently offer the little boat to the boy, then he pauses, taking a closer look at it. Rather than being one of the toy boats that lined the windows of the toy stores, this boat is clearly hand made. The little gears and paddles are slightly rusted and the sheet metal making up the hull is of different thicknesses and colors, crudely screwed together. Yet, there are a ton of thoughtful details that have been added to it. A tiny railing has been carefully welded to the front of the boat and the roof painted red. Little portholes are dotted along the bow and a tiny captain’s wheel has been carefully glued to the stern. Even more amazing are the mechanics, brilliantly engineered and well executed. Jayce knows from experience that boats are harder to make than they seem. It’s clear a lot of care has gone into the creation of this boat. 

“Did you make this?” he asks in awe, holding it aloft for a closer look. The other boy stares at him for a few seconds before nodding. “This is the coolest boat I've ever seen! It's way better than the ones at the toy shop!” Jayce grins, turning the boat in his hands.

“Thank you,” the other boy murmurs in a thick accent, his cheeks turning a bright shade of pink.

“I'm Jayce by the way!” he snatches the other boy's limp hand and vigorously shakes it, “You have to show me how you made this! Did you weld it yourself? Where did you get the parts? Would you show me how it works? I have so many questions!” Jayce smiles at his new friend, but his expression falters when he sees the slightly dazed look on the other boy’s face.

“Sorry,” Jayce mutters, “I've been told that I get too ‘enthusiastic’ when it comes to machines…”

“No, no! That's ok!” the other boy exclaims though his voice remains soft. He waves his hands in a placating manner in front of Jayce as he continues, “It's just, no one has ever been that interested in what I make, other than my parents of course.” After fidgeting with his cane for a moment, he starts speaking again at a rapid clip. “I wanted to make a wagon first, but I couldn't find any wheels that I liked. While I could make them, it seemed better to start with something I could create with the things I had already acquired. My father repairs clocks and he lets me take any parts that he doesn’t have any use for, and mama always brings me metal scraps after her shifts. As for the paddle mechanism itself, it’s actually quite simple. I can demonstrate to you how it works if you’d like.” Once the other boy started talking, it was like the floodgates had opened. Jayce couldn't help but smile again as the words flowed over him, the accent giving the words an almost musical cadence. Jayce feels like he could listen to this boy talk about paint drying and he’d hang off of every word. As he hands the toy boat back to him, his hand lingers over his new friend’s fingers. He swears he feels an electric charge as they touch. Jayce was beginning to think that perhaps coming here was worth the risk of getting in trouble after all. 

***

The two boys send the little boat gliding down the river again and again, taking notes on its speed and agility on each voyage. Every time it would stall, Jayce would chase after it and pluck it from the river, not caring that he was ruining his school trousers in the dirty water. It wasn't until the sun started to dip behind the towers of Piltover and he heard the clanging of the evening bells that Jayce realized with a start that all his friends had left him and he had been due back home hours ago.

“I really have to go now…but I'll see you tomorrow right?” Jayce asks. The other boy looks up at the setting sun, shielding his face with one hand.

“Yes, I will be here.”

“Oh good…” Jayce trails off, “but wait…I don't even know your name.”

“It's Viktor,” his new friend, Viktor, says softly, smiling up at Jayce, “I will see you tomorrow I think.” Without another word, he grabs his boat and his cane and starts making his way down towards the Undercity. Jayce watched him descend for a few seconds, then scrambled up the rocks and raced towards home. 

All the street lamps had turned on by the time he approached his house, nestled at the edge of Mid Town and Old Piltover. His pace slows as he opens the creaky iron gate to the front garden. By the time he reaches the stoop he’s nearly at a crawl. Taking a deep breath, he slowly pushes the front door open and steps inside. As he feared, his mom was furious. She had sent Helene out to search for him when he hadn’t come home on time. Apparently, Helene had tracked down one of his school friends, who mentioned that they had all been playing by the river. With her hands on her hips Ximena Talis launches into a tirade.

“You don’t tell me where you’re going and next thing I hear, you’re traipsing around the river, ruining your expensive clothes,” she gestures to his muddy pants and sopping shoes, “But more importantly, you could have been killed! Or kidnapped! You don’t know what people from the Undercity are capable of! And then where would that have left me? All alone in this world. With no family left, and I would never even know what happened to you,” here his mom bursts into sobs and at the sight of her tears, Jayce starts crying too. They cling to each other while Jayce chokes out his apologies.

“I’m sorry mom!” he sobs, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t want to go, but I couldn’t say no.” He sniffles as his mom squeezes him tighter. 

“You have to promise me that you will never go back there,” his mother says sternly, shaking him gently by the shoulders, “Please, if anything were to happen to you I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

“But mom–”

“Promise me.”

Jayce gulps. He wants to make his mom happy, but there’s a deeper desire to see Viktor again. He’s never made a friend so quickly and easily before. While his new school friends are nice enough, he felt like he couldn’t really be himself around them. He had to pretend to be more grown up or share their interests rather than his own. Viktor felt different. Someone after his own heart. Although he hates to do it, he’s going to have to lie to his mother. 

“I…I promise mom,” he says quickly, not quite able to meet her gaze. His stomach churns with nerves as he waits for his mom’s response. When she pulls him into another hug, Jayce lets out a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you, Jayce. But if you break your promise, I’m going to send you to live with my sister in Freljord.”

“What!? But mom–” 

“Enough! Go to your room. You are grounded for the rest of the night.”

Jayce retreats to his room. He isn’t sure if he’s going to have dinner tonight, so to keep himself busy he goes to his desk and pulls out some old homework. Flipping it over, he starts drawing plans for a wagon that he and Viktor could make together. Somehow the plans for the wagon turn into doodles of himself and Viktor sending the little boat down the river. Jayce loses himself in his sketching. It's just as he’s drawing two little dots on his picture of Viktor’s face that his mom enters his room with a steaming tray of food. She gives him an apologetic smile as she hands him the tray. He eats quickly and gratefully while his mother watches him thoughtfully from the bed. 

Finally she says, “You look just like your father, you know.” Jayce pauses mid-bite. In his memories he never sees his father’s face clearly. He remembers his smell of smoke and metal, the deep richness of his laugh, and his large hand over his own as he shows him how to work the forge but his face is always obscured. Glancing at the small, sepia toned photo of the two of them that sits on his nightstand, he doesn’t see much resemblance. It’s the only photo of the two of them together, his father smiling proudly as Jayce holds up a hammer that he made.

His mom must read the look on his face as she continues, “Not so much in looks perhaps. But your expressions are just like his. He was a kind and noble man. Endlessly hardworking. Someone that people could depend on. My hope is that one day, you grow up to be just like him.” She gives him a kiss on the cheek, then takes his empty tray. Once alone again, Jayce finishes his drawing and pins it to the cork board behind his desk. After a few chapters of “Marvelous Adventures” he gets ready for bed. As he starts to drift off, his head is filled with images of spinning gears, mechanical boats, and large amber eyes.

Chapter Text

Chapter Two

Summer Daze

Jayce thought he would feel guiltier, but he doesn’t. Instead, he feels more excited and alive than he has since the incident. He had waited in his bedroom pretending to sleep until he heard his mother leave for the day. Quickly, he changed into some old clothes and his rainboots, he didn’t want to get in trouble again for ruining another outfit. He snuck into the kitchen and grabbed whatever he could get his hands on before the cook noticed and shooed him away. Then he made his escape. Now, he carries as many tools from his father's forge as he could fit in his satchel. As he runs through the busy streets, he daydreams about how Viktor will react to seeing them. Will his eyes widen in delight? Will he smile that soft smile again? He is hoping that they can start building the little wagon Viktor had talked about before. He’s had some ideas that he wants to go over with Viktor and he can’t wait to hear what he thinks.

As he climbs down the rocky falls to the lower levels he pauses, nerves washing over him. Maybe Viktor had just been humoring him, pretending to like his ideas and he didn't really want his help with any new projects. He can almost hear the mocking laughter ringing in his ears. He almost turns around right there when he suddenly hears a soft tapping. Peeking around a boulder, he sees Viktor slowly walking up to where they had met before with his cane in one hand and a sack thrown over his shoulder. Relieved, Jayce slid the rest of the way down to meet him.

“I have some tools for us to use!” he calls out as he picks himself up from where he landed. Viktor smiles in greeting and limps over to inspect them. He nods in approval over each one.

“These are good. Your father, he made them?”

“Yeah he did! His forge used to be famous, especially his hammers. Mom used to say that he was the one to put hammers into the hands of the people.” He grimaces after he says it. It sounds so corny coming from his own mouth.

“I can tell they were crafted with care,” Viktor says as he smiles and hands the hammer to Jayce. “I have brought materials also. Come, I think we will be able to make the wagon today.”

The two settle down by the river bank. Viktor has brought the paddle boat back with him, along with a large assortment of random scrap metal and rusty gears. Carefully the boys pick through the scraps as they decide which pieces will suit their purposes the best. Jayce appreciates Viktor’s sharp eye as he sorts through the mess.

“This one can be the base. Here, take this one too. We can make the engine parts with these.”

As he hoped, Viktor’s eyes glimmer with excitement as Jayce explains the engine plan he came up with.

“This is brilliant, Jayce!” Viktor exclaims as he examines the rough draft that Jayce had brought with him. Jayce flushes a bright red with the praise. 

“Thanks, it just came to me last night,” he murmurs, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. With the toe of his boot, he traces lines into the sandy shore so he has something to do. Viktor hands him the hammer with another smile. 

“Let us begin.”

***

While Jayce pounds the metal sheet into a square, Viktor finishes picking out the rest of the pieces. Soon the two boys are working in lock-step. They hardly even need to speak to each other as the little wagon comes to life under their hands. It’s as if they are in perfect sync. After a few rounds of testing and making some final adjustments, they cautiously send the wagon on its maiden voyage over the rocky terrain. When it successfully takes off, whizzing over the little pebbles and stones, Jayce whoops and pulls Viktor into a celebratory hug. 

“It works! It actually works!” he cries as he spins Viktor off his feet in a hug. He gently places a now very pink Viktor back down and makes sure that he still has his cane. Then the boys take off after their new invention as it threatens to disappear into one of the caves. 

“Come on! It’s going to get away from us if we don’t hurry!” 

“I am trying, Jayce! My leg doesn’t–” Viktor takes a sudden fall. Jayce forgets all about the wagon as he rushes back to Viktor’s side.

“Hey, are you ok?” he asks, kneeling next to Viktor. He tries to check for broken bones but Viktor swats his hands away.

“Yes,” he groans, “I am fine. This is not the first time this has happened.” He slowly pulls himself onto his feet again. He dusts off his clothes and grabs his cane. Jayce notices that the wooden cane is a little short, even with the new section of stick that has been tied to it, and worn down at the bottom. It causes Viktor to lean sideways on it in order to support himself on it. Jayce starts to make a mental note about it when Viktor suddenly reaches for his hand and says,  “Come, let us find out where it went.”

They find the little wagon at the entrance of one of the caves. One of the little wheels has fallen off from the force of hitting a stone on its mad dash and it has been rotating in sad, uneven circles ever since. Jayce carefully scoops it up into his arms. Not only has the wheel come off, but the frame is bent as well. He sighs. Viktor limps in slowly behind him. Since his fall, he’s been moving more carefully, pausing every so often to rub his leg. 

They wind up spending the rest of the afternoon in the cave. Jayce moves some large rocks into the entranceway so that he and Viktor can have a place to sit. While they rest, Jayce pulls out a sandwich from his satchel. He notices Viktor staring at it hungrily before he quickly turns his head and pretends to look out at the water. 

“Um, Viktor?” he asks cautiously.

“Hmm?”

“I, uh, I think I brought too much food with me. I won’t be able to finish all of this. Do you think you’d like to have some?” Viktor looks at him like he’s expecting there to be some kind of catch. Then his stomach rumbles and both boys look away in embarrassment. 

“Mmm, I suppose if you’ve brought too much, it wouldn’t be good to waste it,” he says slowly, still looking at the water. Jayce roughly tears the sandwich in two and hands the larger half over to Viktor. After a moment of hesitation, Viktor accepts it and quickly devours it. Stunned, Jayce takes a bite and grimaces. It wasn’t even that great of a sandwich. 

Before the evening bells toll, Jayce climbs up the rocks with his tools and the little wagon under his arms. Viktor had insisted that he be the one to take it since it had been his plan that they were working from. He sneaks through the door, hoping that he won’t draw too much attention. He really doesn’t want a repeat from the night before. 

Thankfully, the evening passes uneventfully. He successfully hides the tools and wagon under his bed before his mother returns from work. Then the two of them enjoy a quiet dinner together. Afterwards they go to the sitting room as is their custom. While his mom stokes the fire, Jayce sits nervously in one of the large plush chairs. He picks at one of the embroidered flowers while he waits to see if his mom will question him about how he spent the day. After she gets the fire back to roaring, she sits down on her usual spot on the couch, closest to the blaze. Helene comes in with a tray of tea and cookies and sets it on the little coffee table. Jayce pulls at a hangnail as he stares into the fire. Suddenly, he’s never found fire to be more fascinating. Just as he’s truly losing himself to the dancing flames, his mom clears her throat and he nearly falls out of his chair. 

“So, Helene says that you were gone for most of the day,” she begins. One of her prosthetic fingers clink against the porcelain of the tea cup as she lifts it. 

Jayce swallows, his mouth suddenly dry as cotton. “Um, yeah. I just met up with a new friend. That’s all.”

“Did you do anything exciting with this friend?” his mom asks, then takes a sip of her tea.

“Oh yeah! We built a wagon together! I can show it to you if you want to see it,” Jayce blurts out. Talking about his inventions is pretty safe territory. 

“Oh really? Are you sure it isn’t made out of magic?” his mother teases gently. Jayce breathes a tiny sigh of relief. She’s in a good mood if she’s bringing up magic.

Eventually, he winds up bringing the little wagon down to show his mom. She is suitably impressed even though the frame is still bent. They spend the rest of the evening chatting easily together as they watch the flames die down.

Later that night, as he’s drafting the next machine he wants to make with Viktor, his mom comes into his room. She looks over his shoulder at the miniature airship that he’s designing and then glances at the picture he had drawn the night before. 

“Oh, is that your new friend?” she asks, pointing at the tiny image of Viktor. 

Jayce nods. “Yeah, that’s him. He’s a really good inventor. He made the coolest boat ever!” He sighs, resting his head in his hand. “I wish I could be that cool.”

His mom smiles at him. She leans over to give him a kiss on his cheek, then smooths his hair. “I think that you’re very ‘cool’ my dear. Don’t stay up too late tonight.” Jayce nods again as she sweeps out of his room. He doesn’t heed her advice, opting instead to work until his head droops and he falls asleep at his desk.

***

The summer passes in a blur. His days are now divided between his time at home and his time spent with Viktor. At home, he is the perfect son. He does his summer studies and test prep. Although one of the reasons he had changed schools last year was due to relentless bullying, the other reason had been that his new school was famous for its high acceptance rate to the Academy of Piltover; the most prestigious college in the area. It was his dream to be able to get in and make his family proud. So dutifully, he spreads out his study work in front of the fire each evening while his mother watches on. She asks the occasional question and he eagerly explains what it is that he’s working on at the moment. It’s mostly mechanical engineering, physics, and astronomy. But since his time with Viktor, he feels like he’s improved immensely just by being around him.

His time with Viktor is different. Viktor has really started to open up to him, which is almost as exhilarating as watching a new invention come to life. He has now learned that both Viktor's parents work in one of the mines but that they take on extra work whenever they can, with his father fixing clocks and his mother taking on sewing projects.

“What’s it like working in the mines?” Jayce is curious. He knows from his school classes that the Undercity is known for its industrial factories and quarries, but he’s never met someone who actually worked in one. Viktor goes quiet at the question. Just as Jayce begins to worry that he’s offended him he answers. 

“I don’t know, really. Mama and Papa are there most of the day and night and they are tired when they come home. I know that they don’t want me to work there when I get older. They said it would be bad for my lungs.”

Jayce nods. That makes sense to him. Money seems to be tight in Viktor's family, even by Undercity standards. Like Jayce, he is an only child, but unlike Jayce he does not have any friends to hang out with when they aren’t spending their time together. It seems that in the Undercity, if you aren’t great at running,  jumping, or climbing, your social circle is a bit limited. 

“You’re my only friend, you know,” Viktor says off-handedly in response to his question about his social life. The declaration sends a confusing wave of emotions through Jayce. He stares hard into Viktor’s face, looking for any sign of distress after making such an admission. Viktor stares back at him nonplussed. 

“Does that bother you?” he asks, a little unsure if he wants to know the answer. 

Viktor shrugs. “Why would it? I could not ask for a better friend.” Both their cheeks turn pink and Jayce peers up at the clouds overhead from the entrance of their favorite cave while Viktor clears his throat. “Ahem, anyway…”

“What do you think about magic?” Jayce blurts out. Viktor raises his eyebrows at him and Jayce feels his whole face turn red. He had promised himself that he wouldn’t ruin another friendship by boring them with his ramblings on magic. But Viktor actually looks intrigued. 

“Do you have experience with magic?” he inquires, taking a seat on one of the surrounding rocks and propping his cane between his feet. Viewing this as a good sign, Jayce takes a deep breath and begins his tale.

As he recounts his story, he feels almost transported back to that moment. They had been traveling in Freljord, visiting extended family and finalizing some business following his father's death when they were caught in a sudden blizzard. The snow had come down so hard, and the winds were so harsh, that all that could be seen was blinding white in every direction. How long the two of them trudged through that horrible white world, Jayce couldn't say. All he knew is that they had walked until his mother, who had been trying to shield him from the worst of the wind, collapsed. He attempted to help her back to her feet, but she wouldn’t move. He was sure that he and his mother would die there, lost and frozen forever. When he tried calling for help, the only reply was his own voice being thrown back to him by the cruel wind. Until…

“A mage appeared out of nowhere. He used magic and he saved us,” here Jayce re-enacts how the mage waved his staff along with appropriate sound effects, “Then we were transported miles away. And…he gave me this!” With a flourish, he pulls the tiny runestone out from under his shirt, where it hangs from a leather strip around his neck, and waves it in front of Viktor's face. Viktor's face glows blue in the light of the tiny stone. “You do believe me don't you? That it was magic that saved us?” he asks earnestly. Viktor hummed softly as he thought about what Jayce had said.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that what you say is possible. I have read that there are mages in other parts of Runeterra, but never one as powerful as you say.” Jayce deflates a little but Viktor continues, “But there are many things we don't know. I think it is possible that there was a magic strong enough to save you and your mother.” He smiles at Jayce and leans in to carefully study the little stone. 

“No one else believes me,” Jayce admits, “They think it was just a hallucination caused by the cold and the stress. But I know what I saw, Viktor. How could we have made our way out of that storm? My mom had fainted! And where else would I have gotten the stone? I couldn't have dreamed that!”

“Well, there you go. You cannot refute that evidence,” Viktor says as he reaches out and turns the stone in his fingers then reverently tucks it back under Jayce’s shirt. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Jayce. I feel honored.” His eyes are shining and his cheeks are a little pink in the way that always makes Jayce feel a little funny. 

“Of course, Viktor. You're my best friend,” Jayce was finding it hard to keep up with the intense eye contact from Viktor, so instead his eyes drift to the other boy’s lips, “Of course I would tell you,” he looks back into Viktor’s eyes, “and you know that you can tell me anything too.” 

“Thank you, Jayce…” Viktor still has that intense look, but he lets the moment pass. After a few seconds, he turned his attention back to the new flying machine that they were working on. “I think we need to make some adjustments to our wings. As they are now, the machine won't achieve the lift that we desire…”

***

Before they knew it, the end of summer was upon them. On the last day, Jayce hugged Viktor tightly. He didn't want to believe that their time together would be coming to an end. But school would be starting back, and according to his mom, his Academy practice test had gone well. Really well. Well enough that there was a powerful family who was interested in sponsoring his future studies. It made Jayce feel like throwing up. Now there were even more people in his life that he could end up disappointing. With a final squeeze he releases his hold on Viktor, who gasps for breath. Jayce feels the tears starting to spill from his eyes. He wipes at them furiously and reaches for the wrapped package behind him. He has been working hard on this present in secret and he hopes that Viktor won’t feel insulted by it.

“Um, I have something for you. I, uh, I noticed that your cane was getting worn out,” he cast a glance at the little wooden cane in Viktor’s grip, “So, I made you a new one. I hope that's ok. It's made of metal so I don't think it will wear out as fast. And I made it extendable so you can adjust the height if you need to. Um, and let me know if you want me to change anything,” he trails off as he anxiously watches Viktor open the package. 

“Oh, Jayce…this is beautiful,” he tests the weight of the new cane in his hands, it’s light but sturdy, “It's perfect.” 

He smiles up at Jayce, his eyes shining with unshed tears of his own. Jayce feels his cheeks go red and he shuffles from one foot to the other.

“I know it's selfish, but I just wanted you to have something that I made you so you wouldn’t forget me…” his voice falters, too overcome with emotion. 

“Jayce, you know that you can still come to visit me, right? This doesn't have to be the end of things,” Viktor clutches his new cane desperately, “I won't be expected to start working at the factory until I turn thirteen. That’s not until the end of winter.”

“But don’t you have school, Viktor?” Jayce is stunned to hear his friend talking about starting a job. No child in Piltover would even be allowed to start a job so young, especially not at a place like a factory. It made Jayce wonder, not for the first time, what kind of horrible place the Undercity must be to make kids work such dangerous jobs.

“No, not anymore,” Viktor murmurs, eyes downcast. “I just study on my own now.”

“Well,” Jayce thinks for a minute then continues, “I don’t have to go to the Kiramman estate every weekend. I’ll come here on days when I don’t. We can still make things together.” He gives Viktor a watery smile. But a strange gleam has entered Viktor's eyes. He takes from his pocket a small knife. 

“Please, give me your hand,” he commands. Hesitantly, Jayce complies. Viktor makes a small cut to his own palm, just deep enough to break the skin and cause a thin line of blood to form, then places the knife in Jayce's hand. Jayce pauses for a moment staring at Viktor, then does the same. “Now,” whispers Viktor, “we are bound.” He grasps Jayce's hand fervently, mingling their blood together. He quickly produces two bandages and carefully wraps Jayce's hand in one before roughly wrapping his own hand in the other.

They hugged and cried again after this little ritual, with Jayce promising that he will come to the river as often as he can and Viktor swearing to always be waiting there for him. Finally, they release each other and start on their separate journeys home. 

As the sun begins to set and the shadows lengthen, Jayce turns to look back, feeling a sense of pride as he watches Viktor leave for the Undercity with his new cane in his hand. Viktor is right, it’s perfect, seeming to have always been a part of him. He squeezes his bandaged hand, feeling as though something had changed between the two of them. They were now connected in a way that surpassed understanding. A gold butterfly suddenly flutters in front of his face, startling him out of his thoughts. He shoos it away gently before he returns to staring at Viktor's retreating form until he could no longer see him. Then he headed home.

Chapter Text

Chapter Three

A Child of Zaun

Viktor begins his familiar trek home through the Undercity, or as it is better known to its inhabitants, Zaun.

To those who live topside, Zaun is the antithesis of everything they stand for: grimy, backwards, and swarming with criminals. Corruption is the name of the game and everything has a price. Powerful Chem-barons control all industry, serving as Zaun’s ruling class and providing nearly all employment opportunities. The Chem-barons run the brutal mines and factories, often working directly with unscrupulous Council members on illegal trade deals. Although Piltover claims that it disapproves of these barbaric practices, it turns a blind eye when the system allows them to get cheap goods or have a convenient place to dump industrial waste.

Among the working class however, there is a growing political movement for a free Zaun. Viktor passes various posters plastered to alley walls promoting slogans for a liberated Zaun or coded graffiti letting other like-minded Zaunites know the time and place for a political meeting.

Before he was born, his parents used to go to these meetings and they taught him how to read the code. The ideology, as his parents had simplified it to him when he asked, was that if Zaun could rule itself it would be more effective at taking down the barons and ridding itself of the corruption imposed and condoned by Piltover. And once the corruption was dealt with, a new system could be implemented to evenly distribute resources to those most in need.

This next meeting will be tonight at a bar known as The Last Drop, a popular hang out that he always passes on his way home. He takes a moment to decipher the message. Two short parallel lines with a line drawn through them, it seems that the subject for this next meeting will be a strike at the docks.

As he continues his journey, Viktor stops to stare at one of the more colorful posters. A young mother wearing a gas mask clutches a sick and dying child to her breast. The child’s face is a sickly grey and there are unshed tears painted in the mother’s bloodshot eyes. The slogan below the figures states: “Why must we give up our lives for their pollution”. Viktor traces his fingers over the little child before he moves on.

The crowded, relatively bright and upscale streets of the Promenade and Boundary Markets slowly turn into narrow, winding alleyways and thin bridges linking one drop to the next.

As smog starts to choke out the natural light, the city is lit only by glowing blue and green neon signs advertising anything from chem-bays, to breather stations, to sketchy brothels that promise absolute discretion. The Lanes are where most of the real business is conducted in Zaun. It’s also where you are most likely to run into any trouble. Fortunately for Viktor, it’s rare that anyone tries to mess with him. He never has money on him, although one time a gang of kids did steal a bag of parts he had been planning on using with Jayce. No, the people that he really has to be on guard for are the belligerent drunks and the enforcers. Piltover sent in the enforcers with the promise of providing a safer Undercity. What they actually provided was yet more brutality. And for Viktor in particular, they were a constant threat. They liked nothing more than a target that couldn’t run away. 

A group of them have gathered at The Last Drop and are rounding up drunk patrons. Someone must have tipped off the enforcers that there would be a political rally and Janna help whoever was the one to do that. They must have been truly desperate, as the one great taboo in Zaun was betraying a fellow Zaunite. Viktor hoped bitterly that whatever Piltover had offered them was worth it. If found out, they would not be treated with mercy.

One enforcer eyes Viktor menacingly as he makes his cautious approach. He roughly shoves the man he’s just handcuffed to the ground and starts advancing on him. Viktor swallows hard, clutching at his pocket knife as though it can somehow protect him. Just as the enforcer is nearly upon him, he spots his escape, ducking into a narrow sewer tunnel as quickly as his leg allows, ignoring the shouts from the men and enforcers behind him.

It’s a relief when he successfully emerges on the other side and crosses the connecting bridge to the education sector. It is always best if you can stay out of the enforcers’ way. They were big believers in guilt by association, even if a crime hadn’t actually been committed. For anyone arrested, you never knew if or when you would ever get a trial, much less a fair one. Most rotted in holding cells in Stillwater for months at a time if they were lucky. Years if they weren’t. And that’s if you didn’t die during the arrest process. Fortunately, the deeper into Zaun you went, the less enforcers there were. None ever went past the Entresol level. 

Viktor slowly passes the shabby schoolhouse where he used to spend most of his time before he met Jayce. Perhaps it had been a bar in a previous life, as it certainly hadn’t been designed to house children. During the winter it was impossible to fully heat and he and the other students would huddle together in the center of the classroom for warmth. Likewise during the warmer months, every window would be opened and the children would whisper prayers to Janna for a breeze to come and alleviate the stifling heat.

All the school materials were old and out-dated, with some of the textbooks likely having been stolen from Topside years ago. Despite this, he had quickly surpassed the other students and in his final required year of schooling, he was roping into teaching most of the science and mathematics classes. Naturally, this had not fostered the most friendly feelings between himself and his peers. It didn't help that he was unable to join in on most of their games, leaving him feeling like an outsider mentally and physically. Before he had met Jayce, his one solace was sitting in on classes at the College of Techmaturgy. At least there he wasn't bullied. 

In fact it was at the college that Viktor had found something like community, even if the professors didn’t take him very seriously. To the students he was a novelty, to the professors he was just a kid who snuck into classes and asked questions above their pay grade. The college librarians on the other hand were certainly not fond of him, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t check items out without being enrolled. He did try to return the books, when he could get around to it at least.

He knows that he has maybe only a year left before his presence in the classes goes from being cute and somewhat tolerated, to being a nuisance. With one final fond look at the college tower, he turns down another alley. Before him the factory sector emerges, tall chimneys spewing smog into the air and where he is soon expected to start working. His mother used to be a factory worker, slaving away in the textile mill since she was not much older than he was now. His father had always worked in the mines though, something he swore that he would never make Viktor do himself. He hopes to find work in one of the textile or canneries and not one of the chem-tech factories. Those had a nasty habit of blowing up, costing many of the workers either their limbs or their lives. Recruiters sent by the Chem-barons were always on the lookout for more workers to replace the ones that were killed or unable to continue working. They usually scouted the Foundling Houses but Viktor had seen some hanging around the schoolyard lately, hoping to try to talk kids into signing contracts with the Barons in exchange for quitting school early. It sickened Viktor to see them hovering about with their false promises. Not that he could really blame his classmates if they left, he was going to be joining them soon enough. Finally, he crosses the last sloping bridge towards Drop Street. 

The giant industrial sized cable cars finally come into view. He joins the throng of returning miners and factory workers in line for the ride down to the Fissures. He squeezes into a car packed so tightly that he can barely breathe, the gears grinding and screeching and the whole car shaking and swaying in an unnerving way as it starts its halting journey.

This part always makes Viktor a little seasick. He closes his eyes and hangs on tightly to the center pole as the car vibrates and lurches the whole way down.

Once he lands and disembarks, he makes the final turn down towards Emberflit Alley where he shares a tiny, two room flat with his parents. By now the air is so thick with smog that it is hard to see more than a few feet ahead. Water drips from the mass of sewer pipes that loom over everything and the light from the upper levels don’t reach the murky streets. The few working street lamps try to illuminate the gloom, but it’s impossible to cut through the Grey. People and objects seem to suddenly emerge and vanish without a trace in the foggy shadows.

Viktor quickens his steps as his apartment building rears into view. Like all the other living quarters in the Fissures, it had at one time been a factory, long since shut down due to either chemical spills, air pollution or both. Greedy landlords, never ones to let an opportunity go to waste, hastily and shabbily converted them into flats to be rented to the miners and factory workers of Zaun. 

Viktor takes the elevator up to the second story and makes his way down the long hallway, the dim chem-lights flickering and casting eerie shadows, until he is finally in front of his own door. He can smell his mother's fish stew simmering and his stomach rumbles in response. The snacks Jayce had shared with him earlier have long been digested.

“Mama! I'm home!” he calls out as he opens the door, speaking his family's particular Zaunite dialect. The warmth and color of his home hits him immediately and his limbs relax as he steps inside. At his approach, his mother whirls around from the stove and scoops him into a warm hug. 

“Welcome home, my little kitten. I missed you so,” she gives him a kiss under his eye, right on top of his beauty mark, “Come, eat while it's still warm!” 

Viktor toes his shoes off then sinks down gratefully into his chair. He rests his cane against the table as his mother places a meager bowl of stew and a small roll of black bread in front of him.

“Your father is working until late tonight so it's just you and me, my little kitten. Tell me all the wonderful things you did today.”  

“There isn’t much to tell, mama” he says around a mouthful of stew, “ I just went up to the river to see my friend.” 

“Is this the boy who helped you with your inventions?” She gestures to a shelf next to the front door where Viktor and Jayce’s little machines are proudly displayed. The little boat takes the top spot. Below it are the little airships, a second motorized wagon since Jayce still had the original, and the start of a robotic man. They were able to get the head to turn and the arms to move a bit, but they were still working on getting it to balance enough to walk. Though it was their first failure they were still incredibly proud of it and Viktor had nicknamed it Blitzcrank. They promised each other that one day they would make him work.

“Yes, mama,” he says, mouth still full, “He has to go back to school now though. So, he doesn't know if he can come to the river as much anymore,” he swallows, then sighs and plays with his spoon thoughtfully,  "I wish I could go too. We could go to class together everyday and keep making things. Oh! Look what he made me!” Proudly, he places the new cane on the table. His mother picks it up to examine it.

“My kitten, this is beautiful . He must care about you very much,” Her fingers caress the padded leather of the handle and she leans in to squint at the stitching in the dim light.

Viktor blushes furiously as his mother hands him his cane back. He stuffs his bread roll in his mouth and drains the last of his stew quickly to try to distract himself from the thought of Jayce's smile and the proud gleam in his eyes as he had shown off the cane to him.

“It's not like that mama! I'm done eating now, do you want me to clean your bowl too?” he chokes out, standing and grabbing his empty bowl. His mother just looks at him kindly, but with a sharp gleam in her blue eyes that makes Viktor feel as if she can see straight into his heart. She glances down at his bandaged hand but she doesn't comment on it. Slowly, she swirls her spoon in the remaining broth at the bottom of the shallow bowl.

“Mm, if you say so. Now come, after we clean up we can read for a bit. I don't have to go to my shift until your father comes home.” 

It doesn't take long to clean the minuscule kitchen and put the small amount of leftovers away for his father to eat when he returns. Viktor wipes down the table cloth to remove any crumbs while his mother sweeps. Then his mother washes the bowls while Viktor dries them and puts them back in the tiny cupboard.

After making sure he cleans his hand thoroughly and gently rebandaging it, Viktor and his mother curl up together under one of her homemade quilted blankets to read on their small couch in the corner they have turned into a sitting room by hanging up blankets and curtains to divide the space. In the other corner sits his mother’s sewing machine and across from that a box of spare parts that Viktor and his father are constantly adding to. Usually there is a pile of mending or alterations in progress that take up almost the whole space, including the couch and sometimes even the kitchen table and chairs. But lately, there hasn’t been as much demand for her services which means that they have more space to actually spread out on the tiny couch.

Together they take turns reading aloud to each other from their respective books. His mother is reading from a book of old Zaunite tales that has been passed down in his family for generations. Bound in leather, it has the most beautiful illustrations that Viktor has ever seen. The book must be at least a hundred years old, yet it has been kept in pristine condition with only the yellowing of the pages belying its age. Viktor knows all of the stories by heart, having heard each of them at least a thousand times, but he still loves the way his mother tells them. She uses different voices for each of the characters and waves her hands in the air for emphasis when the stories get particularly exciting. 

Viktor meanwhile has “borrowed” a science textbook from the college library and is attempting to teach himself advanced physics. Whenever he gets confused, he discusses the problem with his mother until he feels that he has a grasp on the concept. In return, his mother reads his favorite story to him as she holds him close, running her fingers through his hair. They do this back and forth until Viktor cannot stop yawning and can barely keep his eyes open, his head growing heavier on her shoulder.

With another knowing look, his mother helps him to get ready for bed and holds his freshly bandaged hand until he falls asleep. Then she leaves for her shift, locking the door tightly behind her.

***

That night Viktor dreams he is walking across the Progress Bridge into Piltover. He walks confidently, with no pain in his leg or back. As he looks up at the great drawbridge, he feels as if it was built just for him, welcoming and inviting him over to the wonders that lay beyond.

On the other side waiting for him is Jayce, his gold eyes shining and dark locks blowing in the breeze. He’s dressed neatly in all white and holding out his hand for Viktor to take. As they clasp their hands together, they start flying through the streets, gasping as they soar over the crowds.

Without warning, they are suddenly in a beautiful building filled with long corridors and ornate doors lining either side. Even without looking, he knows that behind every door a wonderful lecture is taking place. He can hear other children giggling and chatting together as professors call for quiet.

Laughing and holding each other tightly, he and Jayce race down the halls until, with a jolt, Viktor falls. He tries to stand back up and reaches for Jayce’s hand again, but everyone has vanished. He attempts to call out, to plead with Jayce to come back and to wait for him. To help him. But when he opens his mouth, no words come out. With horror, he realizes that he is sinking through the floor. The more he struggles to get up, the quicker he sinks. At some point Jayce returns and tries to grab his hand but it is too late. With a cry, Viktor falls back into Zaun. 

He wakes shrieking. His leg aches and he can’t seem to get enough air into his lungs. Groaning, he lays back and with a trembling hand wipes at his sweaty forehead. He wants so badly to live in the world of that dream. To stand next to Jayce in the great Piltover Academy and know that he belongs there as well. That he’s just as deserving of being there as anyone else. He wants to be able to one day do great things, not just for himself, but for all of Zaun. Curling in on his side, he massages his aching leg and chases fruitlessly after sleep for the rest of the night.

***

When morning finally comes, he rises stiffly from his bed. Peeking around the wood paneled screen that divides the single bedroom, he sees his mother is still sleeping in the adjacent bed after her late shift, golden curls spread out on the pillows. With her high cheekbones and delicate features, she looks just like one of the princesses from the story book. In the next room he hears his father preparing breakfast. 

"Papa,” he says calmly as he enters the tiny kitchen, “I've made a decision.” His father glances at him in surprise, his eyes widening as he takes in the sight of his son standing near the table.

“What is it, my boy?” he gently asks, turning back to the food he was cooking. He flips a thin griddle cake and pours a weak cup of tea into an old chipped mug.  After he removes the current cake from the pan and onto the thin stack that will soon be devoured by the family, he turns to give his son his full attention.

“I won't be working at one of the factories. I'm going to study for the Academy, and I'm going to get in.”  

“The Academy? You mean the one in Piltover?” his father raises his thick brows in surprise.

Viktor is aware that he must look somewhat ridiculous. He’s still in his night clothes, hair mussed and standing on end while he leans heavily onto his new cane. Not exactly striking the kind of figure who should make such bold declarations. Still, he stares up into his father’s startled face and continues.

“Yes. There is no way forward for me here. But I'm going to study and I'm going to get in. Then, when I have learned everything that I can, I am going to return to you and mama and make things that will help people.”  

His father looks stunned. He runs a hand through his dark waves, making the back ends stand up in mirror image to that of his son. Then he crouches down in front of his son and tenderly pulls him forward and touches their foreheads together. 

“My son, I promise you that I and your mother will do everything in our power to assist in your dream.” 

Viktor leans into the touch, his heart full. Wait for me, Jayce, he thinks.

Chapter Text

Chapter Four

The Test 

His mother holds his hand tightly as the carriage pulls up to the mansion. Wearing her best dress, in the deep blues and reds of House Talis, she squeezes his hand as the carriage stops and the doors are opened by footmen. Jayce squints up at the huge manor before him, unsure of where to even look first. They had two fountains. Two! He’d never even seen a house with one fountain before today. He thinks he’d love to see the blueprints as they ascend the huge set of stairs to the front entrance.

Upon reaching the top, two servants appear out of nowhere and pull the massive, gold grated doors open wide. Standing inside, just next to the grand double staircase and under a portrait of her own face, is a tall, stern faced woman. Her hair is dark, but graying a bit at the roots and she looks at Jayce with sharp blue eyes. With her commanding attitude and fine dress, there is no doubt that she is the head of the house. Jayce’s knees knock together as he and his mother approach. Then she smiles and her entire face softens. 

“Welcome, Jayce. I hope you will find everything here to your liking.”

Jayce can only stare up at her, clutching his notebooks tightly to his chest. His mother gives him a gentle nudge and he remembers himself. 

“Yes, Councilor Kiramman. Thank you so much for your generosity. It is a privilege to be here.” His voice sounds small and a little robotic as he tries to remember what else his mom had coached him to say. It seems to be enough though as Cassandra Kiramman’s smile widens.

~Three Years Later~

Jayce wakes with a start. Fumbling with the bedsheets he tumbles out of bed and onto the rug in an ungraceful heap. He’d been having that dream again. The one where he was trapped in the snow storm with his mother, sure that they would both die. Walking for what felt like hours, watching his mother’s fingers turn from red to white to an ugly purplish black as the tissue in her hand started dying, knowing that he was the cause of it. If he hadn’t lost his own mittens to the wind, she would have never needed to give him hers. In horror, he stares over her body lying motionless in the snow. He screams into the wind until his voice is hoarse. They needed to get up and get to the village. His aunt would know what to do, if only he knew which way to go. If only his mom would get up again. In the dream, no one ever comes. He stands alone over his mother’s frigid body, knowing that it is only a matter of time until he joins her in death.

With a groan, he sits up and tries to take stock. He always has this dream whenever he’s been feeling stressed. Glancing at the clock on the wall, he sighs with relief to see that it is only just past seven bells. He takes a few deep, shuddering breaths then pulls himself reluctantly from the warmth cocooning him just as his mother taps on his door to wake him.

“My dear, are you awake in there?” she asks, voice muffled slightly. 

“Yes mom, just getting up now.”

“Good, I’d like you to join me for breakfast this morning. I’m going to be out running errands so I won’t be home much today. And don’t forget that the Kirammans are expecting you this evening for another study session.” 

He sighs softly, hoping his mom can’t hear. He cannot wait until the Academy exam is just a distant memory. In order to even try to get a spot in the Academy, a series of tests had to be administered and passed. The first is a preliminary test that is usually taken by Academy hopefuls during the school year and carefully monitored. 

It came as a surprise to no one when Jayce received his scores back with top marks in math and science. Along with his test results was the formal invitation to come to the Academy for the placement exam. Anyone who scored in the top five percent could enter the Academy on a full scholarship. The top twenty percent would be admitted as long as they had a sponsor or were wealthy enough to pay the tuition. Anyone who scored below that failed, although they could of course try again later. However, they would have to pay for any subsequent testing. 

He yanks on his heavy wool trousers and pulls on a lined jacket over his shirt. For most people, the end of summer comes as a welcome relief from the oppressive heat, but for Jayce, the cooling weather always puts him on edge. With his nightmare still in mind, he uses a rough hand as he combs and styles his hair and makes sure that everything about his appearance is exactly how he wants it. Then he goes downstairs to join his mother.

As soon as he is able to slip away, he dashes through the streets towards the Pilt. He hopes that Viktor won’t be too upset that he’s arriving later than he said he would. It would be their last full day together since he would be starting school again tomorrow. He turns down a side street and through a back alley, hoping the shortcut will save him some time. 

It doesn’t. When he finally arrives at the river, the sun is starting to warm the rocks and he can see Viktor resting on one below him. It looks like he’s fallen asleep while waiting for him. As quietly as he can, he starts climbing down to where Viktor rests with his hands tucked behind his head and his feet propped up on the boulder in front of him. His chin is tucked into a green scarf and he’s draped his large overcoat across his lap like a blanket. Other than himself and his mother, Viktor is the only other person Jayce knows who starts overdressing as soon as the weather begins to change. 

As Jayce approaches he could swear that he can hear soft snoring. He tries to be as quiet as possible, choosing each step with care. He’s debating whether he should try to play a prank on Viktor when a voice floats up to him, startling him so badly he nearly falls.

“You need to show me the way to the Academy.” 

Once Jayce regains his composure he hops down the last few boulders. Viktor cracks one eye open as he continues, “Testing will take place in two weeks. It would be good if I look at least halfway confident with my ability to make it to the center without getting lost. Looking at a map is one thing, it would be better to have a guide.” Then he pushes himself up and stretches. He slips his arms back through his coat sleeves then reaches for his cane.

Now going on sixteen, Viktor has hit a growth spurt and for the first time since knowing each other he has a few inches on Jayce. It’s something that he won’t let Jayce forget even for a second, strutting about and asking him what it was like being so down to earth. It’s a stupid joke that Jayce has long since stopped even pretending to laugh at, but Viktor had a habit of hanging onto a joke until he had squeezed all the life out of it. Jayce meanwhile has started to fill out, no longer looking like an awkward kid but a young man. The time he spends in the forge has certainly helped in that regard as well. 

Together they sprawl out on the rocks in front of the cave that they used to use as a makeshift classroom. Their childish writing can still be faintly seen scratched into the walls if you know where to look, but Jayce is more interested in watching Viktor as he leans against one of the large rocks and tilts his head back. He closes his eyes again, clearly enjoying the sun on his face.

“Viktor, I don't know if you…”

“Please, Jayce,” Viktor interrupts, “This is important to me. I want to make a good impression,” his voice softens, “Plus, don’t you think it would be more fun to go together?”

Jayce knows Viktor’s tells by now. He’s clearly nervous as he adjusts his cane in his hand and picks at the brass buttons on his coat. Viktor is right and Jayce knows it. He doesn't know why he feels so hesitant about bringing Viktor into Piltover. He feels strangely protective of Viktor. Realistically he knows that Viktor is perfectly capable of looking after himself. Probably even more capable than Jayce would be if their roles were reversed. Still though, he worries about how others will treat him. But if their plan is to succeed, Jayce needs to get over these fears and trust that Viktor can take care of himself without his hovering.

“Ok, ok!” he says, raising his hands in defeat, “I'll show you around. Yeesh, you’re worse than my mom…”

Viktor gives him a sly smile. “Hmm? What was that?” he pretends to clean out one of his ears, “I’m sorry, I thought I heard the great Jayce Talis complaining about showing off his beloved city. Are you sure you’re feeling alright?”

“Oh hush!” Jayce gives Viktor a playful nudge which Viktor returns along with a gentle tap on his ankle with his cane. “Ok you’ve made your point. We’ll go right now since you’re so eager.”

Slowly, they start climbing up the rocks with Jayce stopping occasionally to help pull Viktor up to the next ledge or hold onto his cane for him. Once they finally make it to the top level, they make their way to the main road and join a returning group of Piltovans, trying to blend in as they start to cross the bridge. It’s fortunate that they do this because as they pass, they see that there is a group of kids from the Undercity being detained by enforcers. Jayce shields Viktor with his body as much as he can and they pass the checkpoint without stopping.

Jayce leads the way, showing Viktor the way through Mid Town and up to the Academy Square where testing will take place. Viktor doesn’t exactly make this an easy task. Every few seconds he’s racing off after a steam carriage or standing in the middle of the street to gape up at the airships passing by overhead, completely unaware of the curious looks and glares from passersby. After dragging Viktor away from a carriage driver that he has cornered to pepper him with questions about how the steam engine works, they finally enter through the campus gates.

As the gate swings shut behind them, he feels his stomach twisting. He isn’t sure if it’s from excitement or anxiety. Staring up at the massive Academy Center with Viktor doesn’t exactly help calm his nerves either. The building seems to leer over him, exposed mechanics and brass piping snaking up the walls. Viktor doesn’t seem to notice his feelings, too engrossed in the massive clock tower, pointing out which parts were made in Undercity factories. Jayce nods along, only half listening. His eyes are drawn to the statues of the Academy's founders staring forward sternly and wonders what they would think of the Academy as it stands today. Before he can get too philosophical with his thoughts, Viktor places a hand on his arm. 

“Let’s go, I think we are starting to annoy the locals,” Viktor says in a stage whisper. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Jayce notices a group of well dressed adults starting to glance suspiciously in their direction. Then one of the men leaves the group to flag down an enforcer. Straining his ears, Jayce hears the man talking pompously about vagrants and loiters while the enforcer shakes his head gravely.

“Um, Viktor? How would you like to come to my house?” he asks, desperate to get Viktor out of sight. Viktor looks shocked at the suggestion, but he doesn’t fight him as Jayce grabs his arm and starts marching towards his home. His mother won’t be home from work for another few hours. He’s a little worried about Helene, but unless he’s getting into trouble she rarely takes any interest in what Jayce is doing. So hopefully she won’t think twice at seeing a new face around the house.

As quickly as they can, mindful of Viktor’s leg, they hurry through the streets. Thankfully, it seems as though the enforcer is not following them after all. They round the corner and Jayce’s humble two story home comes into view. Jayce guides Viktor through the front doors, with Viktor still gaping at everything. 

“Come on, let’s get up to my room before Helene notices I’m back,” Jayce says as he ushers Viktor up the stairs.

“Who’s Hel–” Viktor starts to ask but is cut off by Jayce slapping his hand up to his mouth.

“She’s our maid,” he hisses, “Now come on.” He half carries, half drags Viktor up the stairs. He doesn’t breathe easy until they have shut the door behind them in his small room. Although now there may be a more pressing concern. 

It didn’t occur to him how embarrassing his room was. It hasn’t been updated since he was twelve years old. The walls are plastered in posters about magic and science. A wizard’s hat is draped over one bedpost and old toys have been stuffed in a trunk in one corner. The bookshelf across from the bed proudly displays the entire “Mervin the Magician” series alongside the texts on astronomy and engineering. His desk is covered in school notes, doodles of himself as a mage, and rune etchings. And most embarrassingly, the picture he drew of Viktor and his boat that he'd pinned above his desk the first day after they met. He had a brief hope that maybe Viktor would pretend not to notice how lame it all was, but no such luck. Viktor is rummaging through all his things as if they are buried treasure. 

At least he isn’t teasing Jayce yet. Instead he has that look he sometimes gets around Jayce, where his eyes soften and seem to sparkle and his lips quirk into a tiny smile. Jayce soon forgets to be embarrassed as he starts to reminisce over his old things.  

“Oh, yeah. That was my favorite book series as a kid. The sequel trilogy is pretty good too.” Jayce answers Viktor’s questioning look as he pours over the shelves. Then he gets to the photo of Jayce and his father.

“Who is this? Your dad?”

“Yes, he died a year after that picture was taken.” Both boys grow somber.

“He looks kind. I wish I could have met him.” Viktor's voice is soft. Jayce just nods, not trusting his own voice for a minute. Seeing his dad's picture always gave him mixed feelings. He wonders what he would think if he could see Jayce now. He hopes he'd be proud. Then Viktor points to some medals hanging over the picture with another questioning look.

“Oh, I won those in primary school. It was the Junior Innovator’s Competition. I made a battery out of a potato I think.”

“And this?” 

“Mom bought me that poster from an Ionian travelling magic group. I was a huge fan and went to every show they put on… And Helene made me that wizard’s hat for my tenth birthday,” he says as Viktor puts on said hat.

“I know you told me that magic saved your life, but I didn’t realize that you were such a fanboy,” he grins. Now Viktor is definitely teasing a bit. Jayce just laughs.

“Oh yeah, by the time I met you I had calmed down a lot. Right after we were saved, I wouldn’t shut up about magic. I got bullied so badly for it…” Jayce smiles grimly at the memories, toying with the rune around his neck as he continues, “But I’m grateful. I made some new friends after that. And I met you.” He looks up at Viktor only to step back in surprise. While he was talking Viktor had stepped closer to him and was now staring down at Jayce with an intense look. When Jayce steps back, Viktor seems to remember himself and backs away as well, cheeks flaming. 

“Ahem, anyway…” Viktor trails off as he pulls the hat off his head, “I’m glad I was finally able to come and see your home. Your room is very…well…you.”

“Are you trying to call me a dork?”

“No, not at all,” laughs Viktor, “It’s just very…earnest. You wear your heart on your sleeve, you know. It’s nice to see that reflected in your surroundings as well.” Jayce isn’t sure how to respond to that. To buy himself some time, he shows Viktor some of the new drafts he’s been working on and lets Viktor review his calculations. When they feel enough time has passed that any nosy enforcers have left the area, they sneak back down the stairs, though not before swiping a few small cakes from the kitchen for the journey back. Then Viktor wants to see where his father’s forge is next and Jayce can’t help but oblige. 

***

The old forge is a few blocks away. It’s still in operation thanks to his mother, and Jayce has been learning the art of blacksmithing for as long as he could remember. His mom has just secured a huge new contract with House Ferros so even though it’s the weekend, the forge is open with smiths working hard to fulfill the large order.

The forge is split into two parts, with an open air section where the smiths do most of their final touch ups and the tools are displayed and one where most of the actual work takes place. The first section is mostly for show, as most of the sales aren’t made to people off the street. Most of the tools will be shipped to Undercity factories or Piltovan artisans. Behind the display is the rest of the forge which is rather dimly lit and swelteringly hot. Even though there are a series of fans and open windows, both boys start to perspire from the heat even after removing their coats and rolling up their shirtsleeves. The sound of clanging iron, roaring bellows, and the hiss of red hot metal being doused with water fills the air while the smell of sweat competes with that of smoke and metal. Apprenta stoke the fires and work the bellows while the seasoned smiths pound the red hot metal into shape.

Viktor stares wildly in every direction as he tries to take in what each worker is doing and Jayce has to shout his explanations over the chaos. For the finale, he decides to give Viktor a demonstration of using bellows at an empty forge. Viktor’s eyes get as round as saucers as Jayce makes the flames swell. Laughing as he wipes sweat from his brow, Jayce hands the chain over to Viktor.

“Do you want to try it?”

Viktor nods as his fingers hesitantly curl around the handle. Jayce steps back holding Viktor’s cane while the other boy throws all his weight into pulling the chain down. The bellows twitch in response. Viktor huffs and tries again, using all his strength to try to get the huge bellows to open. His second attempt is a bit more successful, and the bellows open halfway with a wheezing groan. Jayce grins at Viktor with pride as the other boy turns to him in triumph. 

“You did this by yourself when you made my cane?” Viktor asks as he wipes his face with his sleeve, “No wonder you have so many muscles!” Jayce laughs heartily and begins flexing and posing like a strong man while Viktor’s face flushes even more deeply. A couple of apprenta behind them chuckle at their antics as Viktor hides his face in his hands. In response to Viktor’s outstretched hand, Jayce passes him back his cane and the two boys quickly finish their tour.

Viktor is quiet as they walk side by side back to the drawbridge. Before they part, Viktor takes his hand and smiles gently.

“Thank you for today Jayce,” he says softly as he squeezes his hand, “I feel honored that you showed me so many places that are special to you. You’ll have to show me more after we are accepted into the Academy.” He turned and slowly made his way across the bridge with a group of returning Undercity traders. As always, Jayce stays behind and watches until he can’t see Viktor’s retreating form. 

He has a really bad feeling about the exam that he can’t put his finger on. Viktor had shown him his test results as soon as they were mailed back to him and they were even higher than his own. He has no doubt that Viktor could probably get a full scholarship but that doesn’t stop his nagging unease. He glances up at the clocktower. He needs to leave now if he wants to make it to Upper Piltover in time for his tutoring session at the Kiramman manor. Turning to go, he tries to banish the uneasy feeling and just focus on getting through this. Just two more weeks…

***

School starting back does not alleviate any of the pressure he feels. It just feels like insult piled on top of injury.

Jayce continues to go to the Kiramman manor everyday to work with the tutors they procured for him. They review the exam questions then he spends hours working on advanced mathematics and engineering principles with some of Piltover’s finest minds.

While waiting for his mother to pick him up he happens to overhear the servants gossiping. He can hear his mother in his head scolding him about how eavesdropping is rude even as he slides to the door and presses his ear against it.

“...can you believe that about the Talis boy? Man, what wouldn't I give to be able to pull strings like that.”

“That’s what happens when you work with the Dean of the Academy. Apparently, she showed him the boy's work and they reserved a place for him on the spot.”

Jayce’ body grows hot and then cold. He feels like a fraud. While there had never been much of a doubt that he’d get in, he didn’t think that there had never even been a chance of failure. Then a noise behind him almost makes him jump out of his skin.

Whirling around guiltily, he sees Caitlyn Kiramman staring equally wide eyed at him. He gives a sigh of relief. It must have been her footsteps that he heard.

“Were you listening at the door?” she whispers. He nods. “I do that too sometimes. That’s how you find clues.”

At ten, Caitlyn Kiramman is a curious girl. Ever since he first started these extra lessons when he was twelve, he’s always tried to spend time with her. His first impression of her was that she was sweet and clever, if a bit too self serious. While she is still these things, he now knows that she is also a lonely kid trying to find her place. Right now, part of that place has been playing detective with him every chance she gets. 

“Yeah…I was just searching for clues. Something like that…” She looks at him knowingly and whips out a notebook and pen. He’s saved from having to explain himself further by his mother being ushered into the Great Hall to take him home.

And then before he knows it he’s sitting in his assigned seat at the testing center waiting nervously for Viktor to arrive. As the final stragglers trickle in, a girl he knows from school, Ren, leans across the aisle and shyly touches his arm. She whispers “Good luck!” before turning back to her desk. Behind him, he hears Darius muttering something about some guys having all the luck with girls. Jayce barely acknowledges him. His hands are trembling and he clenches his fists in an effort to get them to stop. He hasn't seen any sign of Viktor yet and there's a suspicious commotion going on outside the building. He stands and tries to move to the window to see what is going on, but the chaperone glares at him.

“Once you are seated, you must stay seated until you have either completed testing or are on an assigned break.” he reprimands sharply. Reluctantly, Jayce sits back down. Whatever is going on outside seems to be dissipating. He desperately wishes he could see what had happened. But he has a feeling that he already knows. He traces a line across his palm to try to calm himself down.

Viktor never does show up. After the testing has wrapped up and they are finally free to go, Jayce races to the Pilt. In front of their old makeshift classroom he finds Viktor curled into a small ball on the ground. 

“Vik! Oh gods, Vik what happened?!” Jayce races to his friend’s side. Viktor turns to look at him, tears starting to slip down his face. Panicked, Jayce starts checking his friend for any injuries, but other than some bruises and a shallow cut under his eye he seems unharmed.

“They wouldn’t let me in,” Viktor whispers hoarsely, pulling his knees tightly to his chest, “They called enforcers on me. I thought…I thought they were going to arrest me,” he chokes on a sob. Jayce throws his arms around Viktor, rubbing his back slowly up and down the way his mother did for him when he was upset. He runs his hands over the embroidery on Viktor’s vest. The clothes were old and worn, but Viktor's mother must have added these embellishments to have her son look his best for Piltover. His parents must have also given him some kind of gel to try to tame his waves but his hair is breaking free from it anyway. 

“They stopped me. They said they looked up my record and that there was no way that I could have submitted the test without someone helping me to get the answers. They thought I cheated! Me!” Viktor is starting to hyperventilate and Jayce squeezes him tighter to ground him. After a few deep breaths Viktor continues,  “Then they called the enforcers on me. Like I was some kind of criminal,” Viktor spits the word out savagely.

“It’s ok, I promise. We’ll think of another way,” Jayce doesn’t know what to say beyond that. He just wants to keep Viktor from sobbing any harder. It seems to be working, Viktor pushes away and starts to sit up straight, wiping his eyes harshly. After he takes a few deep breaths he grabs his cane and stands.

“You’re right Jayce. This isn’t over. Err, how do you think you did on the exam?” he says, looking at Jayce with watery eyes. Like a coward, Jayce doesn't admit that he's already been accepted. Instead he looks down at the water as he says, “Oh, I think I did alright. I won’t find out the results for another month though.” 

“Oh, ok then,” Viktor takes a few painful steps forward and leans against a boulder. He rubs his right leg absently and takes some more deep breaths. When he turns back to Jayce, his face is set in determination once again. “Thank you, Jayce. For finding me. I think…I think I will take some time off. Rethink some things. I’ll meet you here again in a month.” He stands and without looking back he heads towards the Undercity. As always, Jayce is left alone, watching Viktor walking away. 

“See you in a month,” he whispers as he closes his eyes. Wearily he sighs and turns to start climbing his way back up the rocks.

Chapter Text

Chapter Five

Don't Ask for Permission 

Viktor was not one to wallow in self pity for long. After taking a few days to lick his wounds, he was back to thinking of how to get into the Academy. He could see clearly now how naive his first attempt had been. If it was as simple as submitting a test, there would already be Zaunites attending. Obviously, the game was rigged to keep anyone from the Undercity out. 

But now he has yet one more thing to feel guilty about. In order to get his hands on the official test and registration, his parents had scraped together the last of their savings to hire a smuggler to make sure actually got it. Piltover had been cracking down on the pneuma tube system in Zaun, claiming that it could be used for criminal enterprises. So now the already spotty mail services were subjected to randomized enforcer raids. To help with the money, Viktor had even taken time out of his studies to search the garbage heaps every morning to find and sell scrap metal to the refineries for extra cogs. All that work and now they had nothing to show for it.  

That was money that should have gone to replacing the air purifier in their flat that had been slowly breaking down for the past few years. Some days the apartment filled up with so much smog that he found it difficult to breathe. Nights were even worse, leaving him choking on shallow breaths and preventing the whole family from sleeping. Viktor had offered to try to fix it many times but his father never let him, insisting that he be the one to do it instead.

“Chem-tech is too unstable, my son. Especially old chem-tech like the filters. If it is going to blow up in anyone’s face, it is better mine than yours,” his father cautioned when Viktor hovered too near while he was working on it.

Eventually though his father had given up. The part needed to permanently repair the filter would cost more than a new unit would. Their landlord was supposed to provide them with a new one, but since they had been late with the rent for the past three months, he was holding it ransom until he was sure that Viktor’s parents would pay on time again. 

That didn't even include the humiliation of being frog marched out of Piltover. As soon as he gave his name and papers to the coordinator, he knew something was wrong. Without warning, he had been pulled out of line and taken into a small room where the Administrator was waiting for him flanked by enforcers. They had accused him of cheating, even though his test had been signed off on by the Dean of the College of Techmaturgy. 

They had frog marched him out of Piltover after that. Humiliated, he had sought the comfort of the river and Jayce. But if the Academy thought that would be enough to keep him out, they needed to think again. All he needed was a new plan.

His mother slips a steaming mug of sweetmilk into his hands, startling him as he sits hunched at the table tinkering with one of his father's pocket watches.

The years of hard labor at the mines have left her grey and shrunken. Her once beautiful blonde curls now lie limp and prematurely white, but her face still maintains its air of nobility. The sense of responsibility for his mother’s haggard appearance or his father’s hunching back leaves a heavy feeling in his chest. They have given up so much supporting his fantastical dream of a higher education. By now, he should be working at the mines or one of the factories, earning extra money and helping them to get out from under their crushing medical debt. His crushing medical debt. Just another reason why he can’t give up now. He must make this sacrifice worth it. 

His mother gives him a look as if she can read his mind, then kisses his unruly chestnut waves before she sinks into the chair across from him.

“What are you thinking so hard about, my little one?” she asks softly, “I could hear your thoughts whirling from the other room.”

“Just my next move,” he says as he sips on the sweetmilk. It’s delicious. No one could make sweetmilk better than his mother. She always joked that it was the extra love she sprinkled in that made it taste so good. When Viktor was about four, he had demanded to see how exactly she sprinkled it in. His mother had let him stand on a chair near the stove, her arm wrapped around him to hold him steady, to watch her make the sweetmilk. Under Viktor’s watchful gaze she had added a number of spices to the simmering pot. Then, with an air of secrecy she pulled out a little tin from the back of the cupboard. Eagerly, Viktor had leaned in to see what it was she was grabbing when she whirled on him, tickling him and peppering his face with kisses until he had collapsed in her arms in fits of shrieking giggles. He smiles at the memory and takes another sip.

“Ah yes,” she sits back in her chair for a second, then leans forward to clasp his hand, “Your father and I have been working on something we think will help. It was meant to be a surprise for you after your exam but I think it will serve you even better now. Think of it as an early birthday present.” She grins and pushes herself to her feet. She shuffles out of the kitchen and Viktor can hear her rummaging around in the next room. 

“Here you go, my kitten. Try these on for size,” she calls out as she returns triumphantly holding a brown paper package in her hands. Viktor gingerly un-does the wrapping and almost drops it when he sees what it is.

There in his hands is a beautiful replication of the Academy uniform. He pulls each item out with reverence. The maroon shirt has buttons made of brass instead of gold, but they’ve been polished to shine almost as brightly. The dark pants are made out of wool, but not the itchy kind common in Zaun. It’s soft under Viktor’s fingers. He has no idea where his mother could have found it. Next comes the dark red, silk cravat that flutters lightly in his trembling hands. He recognizes in each piece his mother’s stitching and the delicate detailing that was the hallmark of his father. Shoulders shaking, he clutches the uniform tightly to his chest as the tears rain down his cheeks. His fingers gently trace the Academy emblem sewn into the back collar of the white vest. Somehow, they had even acquired new shoes for him and polished them until Viktor could see his own distorted reflection staring back at him.

“Mama…I…I don’t know how to thank you and Papa enough for…” he shakily begins before his mother cuts him off with a tight squeeze. 

“Shush now, there is no need to thank us. Just go up there and make us proud. You’re going to change the world someday, I just know it.” 

With his parents’ gift, the new path forward seemed so obvious. Instead of trying to go through the official channels where he would be rejected automatically for being from Zaun, Viktor was going to skirt around them. He knew from years of experience how to sneak into a college class and keep his head down. It didn’t matter to him anymore if he was recognized as a genius, it was about gaining the knowledge and the ability to help make the world a better place.

***

Exactly a month later he meets with Jayce in their usual spot. He glances up as Jayce climbs down to where he is waiting at the lower level.

He takes a moment to indulge in watching him remembering their first meeting as he does so.

The first time he saw Jayce leaning over him as he tested his boat, he wasn't sure what to make of him. He had been dressed in a Piltie school uniform and Viktor had been worried that he was coming down to steal the boat and try to claim it as his own. It wouldn't have been the first time something like that would have happened to him. Instead, Jayce had praised him. He had taken interest in what he was making and not just that, he knew instinctively exactly how to elevate whatever he was working on. From that moment on, Viktor just knew. They were two halves of a whole.

As a kid he thought that just meant as his best friend. But sometime when he was about fourteen, he realized his feelings had changed. He had started questioning the way that his heart would start pounding whenever he even thought about seeing Jayce. He had also noticed that he just liked looking at Jayce. It didn't matter what they were doing, he could sit back and watch Jayce for hours. Curious, he had shyly asked his dad about how he felt when he first met Mama. 

“Do you have someone you think you like?” his dad asked in return, eyebrow raised. Flushing, Viktor had just shrugged. His father smiled, putting down the watch he was fixing and ruffling Viktor’s hair.

“When I met your mother, I thought I was seeing an angel from the spirit world. My heart started racing and my hands got so sweaty I dropped my tools all over the ground. I truly made a fool out of myself that day. I wouldn't have blamed your mama if she had decided to laugh me out of the room. But your mother still decided to stick with a poor miner's son who couldn't offer her much more than dreams. That’s how I knew she was the one for me.” Wide eyed, Viktor clung to every word. He knew now what he was feeling and it terrified him.

He had raced all the way to the College of Techmaturgy’s library. Skipping his usual hangout in the maths and sciences section, he went straight to the psychology department and started rifling through anything he thought looked promising. He needed to know if it was normal to fall in love with your best friend. Much to his relief, the consensus seems to be that friendship is often a basis for romantic relationships.

Then the real experiments began.

He started by observing every action, look, and microexpression of Jayce’s, seeking some kind of confirmation that his feelings were returned. This proved to be a difficult task. Jayce was always touching him, but not necessarily in a romantic way. An arm slung around his shoulder here, or a tight hug when they left each other for the day there, and a thousand other little nudges, brushes, and squeezes scattered throughout their time together. It was enough to make him go mad. Frustratingly, he also realized he didn't have a baseline for how Jayce acted around his other friends. This might just be how Jayce was with everybody.

He gave up on that experiment and tried another. Perhaps it wasn't Jayce in particular he was attracted to, but boys in general. A quick trip to the brothel had cleared that up though.

Before he had time to change his mind about it, he found himself in front of one of the most high profile brothels in the Lanes. Babette, the old Yordle who ran the place, had laughed at him when he asked how much it would cost to try kissing. 

“Well, aren't you a sweet young thing,” she said, pinching his cheek, “Since it's your first time, I'll let you have one on the house. My treat. Do you want a boy or a girl?”

“Ehh…” Viktor stammered, “B-boy. Please.” Babette winked at him and before he knew it he was whisked into an opulent, private room with a masked boy who couldn't be much older than himself. He grinned when Viktor stumbled into the room, sitting back on one of the ornate couches. Viktor stared at him closely and tried to document how his body reacted to being in such close proximity to another boy his own age. So far, he didn’t feel much except for curiosity about what animal the half-mask the boy was wearing was supposed to represent. A fox perhaps. Or maybe some kind of feline.  

“Babette said to just give you a kiss, but you're cute. You could do more if you like. I won't tell.” the masked boy had said, looking him up and down. 

Viktor was regretting this immensely. 

“Just the kiss, please. Then I'd like to go home.” 

The boy shrugged. “Alright. Your loss.”

The kiss had felt like nothing. 

Even when he hesitantly had gone in for a second one, his heart rate remained steady. His hands didn't shake and his mind didn't buzz over with so many thoughts he felt like his head would explode. Though embarrassing, at least this experiment had been more successful than his first and the answer was clear. This feeling was Jayce specific.

Back in the present, he watches as Jayce skillfully climbs down the rock wall. His dark hair catches the sun and when he spots Viktor he smiles widely before frowning in concentration again at the rocks below him. Somehow in a month’s time Jayce has developed an even more impressive physique, shown beautifully through the tight bomber jacket he’s wearing. Distantly, Viktor wonders how much time at the forge Jayce must be spending. Oblivious to Viktor’s carnal thoughts, Jayce flashes another giant smile at him showing off the adorable slight gap in his two front teeth. Viktor thinks he might faint.

It’s unfair really. All puberty has done for Viktor was make him even more gangly and awkward. His whole body seems to be made of sharp angles with only the tiniest bit of roundness still clinging to his cheeks. He blushes harder, tucking his chin into his father’s old work coat, and looks away when he realizes he’s been staring at Jayce for far too long. By the time Jayce scoops him into a tight hug, even his ears feel like they are burning. 

“Vik! It’s so good to see you!” Jayce exclaims, pulling back and squeezing Viktor’s shoulders, “How have you been?”

After taking a minute to calm his stuttering heart Viktor replies, “I am fine, Jayce.” Then he continues directly to his next point. “What were your test results?” 

“Yeesh, I’m doing fine too, thanks for asking,” mutters Jayces, rolling his eyes, “My results were good. Expected even. I’m now officially the Academy’s youngest student ever accepted to date.” His voice softens as he continues, “I’m really sorry, Vik. You deserve to be there too.” Viktor looks sharply at Jayce's face to gauge his expression. All he sees is warmth and pity radiating from his eyes. 

“Well,” says Viktor pointedly, tapping his cane on the ground for emphasis, “too late for that now. However, I think that there is a way forward for me but I’d like your help if you’d be willing.” Jayce looks intrigued. “I have in my possession an Academy uniform. I want your help to make me into a convincing Piltovan.” Now Jayce looks stunned. 

“You have a…you want me to…Viktor, what are you saying?” he stammers as he takes a step back from him.

“It’s very simple, Jayce. I need your help to create a backstory and a name in case I am questioned again. And perhaps I can use your house to store my things so I don’t have to take them back and forth from the undercity. The plan won’t work if someone steals my uniform” He begins pacing back and forth at the entrance of the cave. 

“My house? Viktor, do you hear yourself!?” Jayce interjects, but Viktor just continues as if he didn’t say anything. 

“Of course if you have any moral objections to helping me that’s understandable. It is committing fraud I suppose. On second thought, I will just do it on my own…”

“Viktor, please just listen to me for a minute,” Jayce interrupts for the second time, “I’ll help you, I promise, but are you sure this is what you want to do? What if you get found out?” He takes a deep breath, “If something were to happen to you, I don’t think I could take it.” Viktor finally stops and re-evaluates Jayce. The look in his eye isn’t pity, it’s worry. That realization makes Viktor’s heart stutter again for a second, but he shrugs it off. This isn’t the time to read into things.

“Which is why it would be better if you help me. With your help, I won’t get found out,” Viktor grins at Jayce slyly, “Just trust me on this.” Jayce looks like he’d really like to say something but he doesn’t. He just sighs and Viktor knows that he’s won.

***

Over the winter break, Viktor and Jayce hammer out the details of their plan. Viktor, drawing on his experiences sneaking into classes before, knows that the start of a new semester is always chaotic and thus the easiest time to slip in without drawing attention. He is now going by Viktor Young, a youth from the lower levels of Piltover who is here under the patronage of House Talis. Jayce had been shocked to learn that Viktor, like nearly all residents of Zaun, did not have a last name. 

“Are you sure?” Jayce had asked incredulously, “How do you know which family you belong to?”

“Yes, I am sure about my own name, Jayce. Family names only matter if the family matters. This is not a difficult concept, I don’t think.” Viktor replied softly.

Jayce had gaped at him as he processed this new fact about his friend. If Viktor’s family had ever had a last name, it was lost generations ago. So Jayce had picked a common last name from the small pool names not associated with any noble or lower houses. And since it wouldn’t make sense for someone from a poor Piltover family to attend the Academy without a patron, Jayce has forged some papers that make it seem as though his family is sponsoring Viktor. Which in a sense it is.

On the first day of classes, Viktor wakes before the sun rises. His mother ties and straightens his cravat proudly as his father piles more griddle cakes slathered in butter bought for the occasion onto his plate. Although Viktor’s stomach feels like it’s doing somersaults, he eats as much as he can. He’s never let food, especially food covered in butter, go to waste if he can help it. 

His parents walk him up to the Lanes, which is as far as they can go while still arriving on time to their shifts in the Fissures. They even took the time to wait for the lifts instead of using the ramps and connecting bridges.

“You shouldn’t wear yourself out before you even arrive, my kitten,”  his mother whispers to him when he starts to protest about needing to hurry for their sake. 

“The mines will still be there waiting for us,” is all his father says as he presses his forehead to his son’s. He hugs them tightly, whispering his thanks again and again while they give him watery smiles and damp kisses in return. After making sure he hasn’t left anything he needed behind him, they reluctantly part and Viktor makes his way through the rest of Zaun in a daze. When he starts to cross the Progress Bridge he can’t help but break into a huge grin. Somehow, that childish dream is coming to fruition.

Once he arrives at the Academy, he searches for Jayce in the mob of students coming in through the front gates. He quickly spots him pacing nervously in front of the steps of the Entrance Hall. When Jayce sees him, his face breaks out into a relieved grin and he trots over to him.

“Viktor! You made it! Wow, you look amazing!” Jayce says as he clasps Viktor’s shoulders and stares him up and down. 

“Thank you, Jayce. You look dashing as well,” he grins. Jayce beams and offers him his arm.

“Shall we?”

Together, Jayce and Viktor join the throng of students and slip quietly into their classes together. Just as Viktor thought, none of the professors pay any attention to the roster. The Academy was so exclusive and difficult to get into that they just assumed that anyone who is in the classroom is meant to be there, and Viktor is able to get all the same handouts as the other students with no one giving him so much as a second glance. He grins slyly at Jayce and mouths “I told you so” during the last lecture when a bored professor’s aide handed him a syllabus without even checking. Jayce shakes his head and elbows him playfully.

“Well, let’s not celebrate too early. It’s only been one day.”

***

On his first day, Viktor had scoped the lobbies for a quiet place that looked comfortable enough to set up camp. He found what he was looking for in the robotics department. There, he found a room that was meant as a student lounge, filled with plush couches and chairs and even a row of desks. It was tucked out the way and private enough that he felt that he would be safe there. 

He had decided early on that it wasn’t feasible for him to make the journey from Zaun to Piltover every day. His leg simply couldn’t handle such a long trip twice a day. It had been difficult enough just getting to the falls as a kid, often leaving him sore for days afterwards. Of course, the time he spent with Jayce had made it all worth it. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, he hides his small bedroll and toiletries under the plumpest couch and returns to find Jayce at the cafeteria.   

The first three nights, his plan works brilliantly. The fourth night he realizes that the couches are really too soft for his back. The fifth night, he can’t wait to go back to Zaun and sleep in his own bed. His back is killing him and he misses his home desperately. 

Finally, the time arrives where Jayce invites him to his home as a friend from school. It was under the pretense of being a school friend at least, the actual reason was so Viktor could store his Academy uniform and homework in Jayce’s bedroom while he was at home in Zaun. He didn’t want to run the risk of getting mugged and losing his only way back into the Academy. So that first weekend, Jayce brings Viktor home to meet Mrs. Talis. 

***

“Now, she’s probably going to want to show you embarrassing baby pictures of me. If she does, just politely decline.”

“Jayce…”

“And she’s definitely going to want to feed you. She tries to feed all my friends. You don’t have to accept if you don’t want to. She can be pushy but if you don’t want to do something just let me know and we can leave early.”

“Jayce…I…”

“And if she asks you to–”

“Jayce! Enough!” Finally Jayce stops his nervous ramble and turns to look at him. “You’re making me anxious. Should I have brought some wine or flowers?”

Jayce blushes hard. “Oh, no! She won't think it's like that…” The two boys turn the corner and Jayce’s cozy home comes into view. They barely make it past the stoop before Mrs. Talis flings the door open and rushes to her son.

“Mijo! I missed you so! Come, dinner’s waiting and I can’t wait to hear all about your first week. Oh–” she pauses when she spots Viktor standing stiffly behind Jayce. “Jayce! You didn’t tell me you were bringing a friend over! Come in, come in!” She scooped Viktor into a hug as well. She was a bit shorter than Viktor expected, considering the size of her son. Her dark hair, with a shock of grey, was tied back in a sensible bun and her dress was modest compared to what he would expect a Head of House to wear. When she pulled back, her dark eyes poured over Viktor’s face. Then they lit up with some kind of recognition.

“Ah, you must be the boy from the river. The wagon boy. It’s about time Jayce introduced me to you," she patted his cheek gently, "Now, let’s eat before Martha’s cooking grows cold and she scolds us.”

The next thing Viktor knew, he was sitting at the Talis dinner table eating the best meal of his life. The warm welcome made Viktor feel more at ease in Piltover than he ever had before. He felt like he slotted into this cozy home effortlessly, laughing and sharing stories around the dinner table. Baby pictures are indeed produced at one point and Jayce squirms while Ximena brags about how big he was as a baby.

During a lull in the conversation, he couldn’t help but to ask the one question that was on his mind. Since the moment he saw them he had been fascinated by the two prosthetic fingers on her right hand. Jayce kicked him under the table but Mrs. Talis had just laughed at his question.

“Please, call me Ximena. And yes, this happened many years ago. I’m surprised Jayce hasn’t told you the story. He used to tell everyone he met how we were ‘saved by magic’. We were lost in a snowstorm and I lost the fingers to frostbite. It was hard to find someone to make me new fingers at first. Jayce actually made me this pair in the forge, didn’t you, mijo ?” Viktor’s ears quirk at the unfamiliar word. She’s said it twice now. Thinking back to the foreign language classes he briefly took in Zaun, he guesses that it may be a term of endearment in Freljordic. He looks at her with even more interest. As fellow outsiders to Piltover, they automatically share a certain bond.

“Oh, you know that now you mention it, I do think I may have heard something of this story,” he says grinning at Jayce, who looks like he is going to combust. Ximena laughs again at her son. 

“The ones they gave you at the hospital were rubbish! I knew I could make you better ones, so I did,” Jayce huffs. Viktor smiles softly at him and he reaches out a hand to touch his cane. Jayce had made that for him too, serving him well for all these years. It was endearing to see how much Jayce cared for the people around him. It made him feel known and strangely safe. For Viktor, his cane was essentially an extension of himself. The fact that he had a friend who had taken the time to learn what he needed and craft it himself meant the world to him. The warmth of that feeling stayed with him through the rest of the evening. Ximena had insisted that he stay the night so now he finds himself back in Jayce's childhood room, lying in his childhood bed, laughing down at Jayce who is trying to get comfortable on the floor. Jayce had insisted that they share his old room and insisted again that he take the bed.

“Jayce, you don't have to lie on the floor you know,” he laughs, “I can sleep on the couch, I'm not made of glass you know.”

“But this feels more like a proper sleepover,” Jayce pouts, “And believe me, the bed is way better than the couch. Trust me.”

“You know I do,” Viktor can't help but smile down at Jayce, “But I don't mind sleeping on a couch if you're uncomfortable.” He does mind, his back is still angry at him but Jayce doesn’t need to know that. Jayce just looks up at him almost tenderly. 

“Goodnight, Viktor,” he says softly as he turns off the lamp. Viktor lays awake for a bit thinking. He tucks this night with the Talis family into one of his treasured memories. Seeing their warmth and generosity has helped him to feel more at home in Piltover. And Jayce is right. The bed is much better than a couch. With that final thought, Viktor falls into a comfortable sleep.

Chapter Text

Chapter Six

The Day of Ash

“Jayce, you’re shaking the whole desk,” Viktor whispers harshly. Jayce pauses, leg still mid-bounce. They’re in the middle of Professor Heimerdinger’s lecture on theoretical mathematical principles and Viktor is trying to take notes. Meanwhile Jayce is only half listening. He likes Professor Heimerdinger well enough, the Yordle is endlessly enthusiastic and always has an interesting story to tell from his impossibly long life, but he’d be lying if he didn’t say that this was his least favorite class. He'd much rather be working with his hands. But that isn’t really what’s bothering him.

“Sorry,” he whispers back, “It’s just…I can’t believe that jerk said that to you. Are you sure you don’t want me to say something to him?” Viktor had been uncharacteristically late to class, and when Jayce pressed, he finally admitted that some snobby student had cornered him, making insinuations about Viktor’s economic status. It was enough to make his blood boil.

In response, Viktor just gives him a withering glare before turning back to his notes.

“Fine,” Jayce drawls, his leg starting to bounce up and down again without his noticing, “But let me know if he says something like that again. You shouldn’t let people like him think that they can push you around. It’ll only embolden them.”

Viktor hums noncommittally and resumes his note taking. Jayce sighs and slumps in his chair. He adds finger tapping to the leg bouncing. 

Below them in the crowded auditorium, the Professor is droning on and on about some guy named Pididly and his here-to-fore unsolvable equations. Jayce feels like he could die of boredom. He liked practical maths, stuff that could be used to calculate angles or velocity. He hates this math for its own sake kind of thing. 

Viktor, who’s actually paying attention, scoffs and rolls his eyes, leaning over to murmur in Jayce’s ear, “That equation is only ‘unsolvable’ because Pididly was an idiot. I actually figured out an answer for it years ago.”

“Really!?” Jayce exclaims forgetting where he was for a moment. With a hiss, Viktor slaps his hand across Jayce’s mouth but it’s too late.

“My my, boys. Is there something you’d like to share with the class?” The Yordle sing-songs up at them. They both flinch and start talking at once.

“It was nothing Professor, it was just–”

“My apologies, sir. It won’t happen again–”

Heimerdinger just smiles mischievously at them, his blue eyes sparkling with mirth.

“I was just about to call on a volunteer anyway. Mr. Young, why don’t you come down and give me a hand.” 

With some reluctance, Viktor rises and grabs his cane. Slowly, he descends the steps of the auditorium. A few of the other students turn in their seats to watch him as he makes his way to the giant blackboard at the front of the room, though most keep their heads down and their noses buried in their textbooks. Jayce watches on as Viktor stops in front of the massive equation the professor has written out on the board. He bites at the nail of his thumb and resumes the rhythmic shaking of his leg. With great deliberation, Viktor takes the proffered chalk from Heimerdinger’s hand and begins to work on the equation before him. 

At first, the usual hum of the classroom continues unabated. Viktor was one of Heimerdinger’s favorite volunteers so no one pays too much attention as he works, chalk squeaking across the board. One by one though, the students start to pay more attention as Viktor continues to write. The scratch of pens on paper slowly stills and all eyes focus on the beautiful equation unfolding in front of them. Soon, only the sound of chalk dragging can be heard as everyone leans forward in their seats to see better. Even Heimerdinger's face has changed from one of twinkling merriment to slack jawed as Viktor continues his steady work long past the point where most would have given up. Jayce sits up a bit in his seat, interested for the first time. He knew Viktor was better than him at calculations but even he didn’t expect this. Finally, Viktor’s hand stills. He steps back and looks at his work with satisfaction. Turning, he flashes a cheeky grin up at Jayce, who gives him a thumbs up in return. Heimerdinger pulls out a pair of pince nez and climbs his rolling step stool to examine Viktor’s work closely, searching for any mistake.

When he couldn't find any he turns to Viktor and asks, “My boy, how would you like to work with me one on one? With a mind like yours, who knows what new wonders could be uncovered!” 

***

“That was so cool!” Jayce calls out as he jogs to catch up with Viktor who’s just gotten out of his meeting with Heimerdinger. “I knew you were better at maths than me, but I didn’t know you were that good.”

Viktor flushes bright red. “Ah, well. At home during winter, there wasn’t much for me to do. My leg kept me home most days and my parents were busy with work, but I had a copy of Stanwick’s “Purely Pure Mathematics”. It had a whole section on unsolvable equations. I wasn’t able to solve most of them but I did come up with at least a few plausible solutions for a few of them. Pididly’s Puzzle just happened to be one of them.”

“Well, you definitely impressed the Professor. What did he want anyway?” Jayce asks as he slings an arm around Viktor’s shoulders as they walk through the halls together.

“He has a private class for students he thinks are particularly promising. He asked if I’d like to join,” Viktor says, smiling shyly as though he hadn’t just been showing off to half of the school and the Dean of the Academy in one go. Jayce gives his shoulder a squeeze. If it were anyone other than Viktor, he’d be seething with jealousy right now. As it stands, he’s just going to need to lock in and focus more. Most of his classes were going really well with the exception of Heimerdinger’s and one mechanical engineering class where the professor did not care for his out of the box thinking.

The two part ways at the courtyard. Jayce makes a b-line to the cafeteria, half starved from the first block of classes, while Viktor uses this opportunity to branch out and sneaks into one of the robotics classes. 

At first, Viktor had been Jayce’s shadow. Coming with him to every class he was signed up for, afraid to be separated for fear of being discovered. After the first two weeks, when nothing happened and no one seemed any wiser, he had slowly started slipping into classes that he thought were interesting, sitting in the very back so as to not draw attention. As the weeks continued to pass without being found out, he had grown bolder. By now he was a familiar figure to both the professors and students. 

As for Jayce, he just has to get through these last classes and the weekend can finally begin. 

***

“No way! That sounds amazing!” Jayce exclaims around a huge bite of food.

“Jayce! Your mouth is full! Viktor is going to think you grew up in the Undercity,” his mom reprimands sharply. She turns to Viktor and lays a gentle hand on his arm. “I'm so sorry, I promise I didn't raise him to behave this way.”

“Oh, that's quite alright Ximena. I take no offense.”

They are all sitting around the dinner table at the Talis home for their weekly night together before Viktor takes his leave for the Undercity. Of course, his mom didn’t know that’s where he was going. She believed them when they told her that he lived on the Piltover side of the Boundary Markets. But she always insisted that Viktor join them for dinner before making such a long journey. 

“What a polite young man. You see that, Jayce? Try to be more like Viktor.” She smiles at Viktor warmly. Viktor gives a small smile in return and takes a demure bite of food. Jayce sticks his tongue out at him which earns him another sharp glare from his mom and a smug grin from Viktor. 

“Anyway,” Viktor continues, pointedly ignoring Jayce's little outburst, “Yes, it is amazing. The professor has asked me to work with the graduate students. He was showing me some of the projects that they are working on. I won’t actually be working on any designs or inventions yet, he just wants me to review the calculations and help with testing.”

“Still,” Mrs. Talis says, “that sounds like a great honor. Your parents must be so proud of you.” She beams, looking at Viktor as though she were the proud parent. Jayce rubs the line of his palm thoughtfully as he watches his mom and Viktor. She was always asking Jayce about him and setting little things aside for him that she thought he would like when she ran errands. Jayce wonders if this is what it would be like to have a sibling. The label doesn’t quite feel right but he isn’t sure of one that fits better as “friend” doesn’t seem to encapsulate what he has with Viktor either. 

After dinner, they gather around the fireplace sipping tea and resting on the plush couches and chairs. Helene always has nights off, so they serve themselves from the Frejlordic tea kettle that is his mother’s prized possession. A clever little device, it was self heating, designed to warm whatever liquid was poured in it and keep it hot for hours. Painted white with tiny figures in traditional garb in blue circling the bottom, it had been an engagement gift from the village elder to his mother before she left to join his father in Piltover. 

Ever the curious child, one of Jayce’s earliest memories was trying to take the kettle apart to see how it worked, much to his mother’s dismay. He had been so sure that it was magical. How else could cold water go into and come out hot? He was just about to try to smash it with his little hammer so that he could see the inside better when his mother found him. Fortunately for everyone involved, the kettle had been successfully rescued by his father, who had tried to give Jayce a basic explanation of how the technology worked in order to placate his incessant questioning. To Jayce, it had just gone to show that some technology could be its own kind of magic. He remembered asking his parents for drafting supplies after that and his dad convincing his mom that he was old enough to come with him to the forge. 

After guzzling three cups of tea in a row, Jayce sprawls out in front of the roaring fire, soaking up its warmth. His mom tch’s at him and turns to Viktor who is sitting in one of the high backed chairs.

“More tea?” proffers his mom, gesturing with the kettle towards Viktor’s cup.

“Oh, no thank you Ximena. I want to be able to sleep well tonight. I’m supposed to help with the set up for Jannas-Den in the morning,” Viktor replies, though he does take another tea cake from the plate in her other hand. 

“Ooh, what’s that?” Jayce raises his head to look at Viktor from his place on the floor. His mom starts to mutter something about how civilized people sat in chairs but Viktor cuts in, eyes shining.

“It’s the best! There’s music and dancing in the streets, and so much food! There are these pastries that are made just for the festival that are filled with jam or sweet cream. Children always get them for free if they are able to solve a riddle or complete a special errand,” he leans forward towards Jayce conspiratorially, “One year, I ate so many that I got sick.” He sits up again, excited. “Oh! And there is a huge procession to Janna to petition for summer winds. Afterwards, there’s a big party and we even have our own version of an innovator’s competition.”

Jayce sits up cross legged, his own eyes shining at the description. His mom is looking at Viktor curiously, as though she is suddenly seeing him in a new light. She starts to open her mouth to say something when Jayce interrupts.

“Mom!” he turns to her, seeming to startle her out of her thoughts, “Can I go with Viktor? Please please please!” He gives her his best puppy dog eyes. She sighs and places her tea cup in its saucer.

“ Mijo, I’ve told you this a thousand times by now. Councilor Kiramman is expecting you tomorrow to see how your school year is going.” Crossing her hands in her lap she continues, “As your patron, she has a right to know how you’re doing academically.”

“Ugh! It’s not fair!” Jayce throws himself back on the rug dramatically, covering his face with an arm, “I never get to have any fun.” 

Viktor snorts and his mom rolls her eyes at him. 

“Jayce, I can’t believe you…” she murmurs under her breath. 

“You can always come with me next year. Maybe we can even enter something for the competition.” Viktor smooths over. He stands and glances at his pocket watch. “Thank you so much for dinner and the delicious tea,” Viktor says to Mrs. Talis, then smiles down at Jayce where he is still spread out on the floor. Jayce jumps to his feet and starts to walk his friend to the door. Once they are out of earshot of his mom Viktor leans close and whispers, “Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to bring you back some of those pastries.” He winks, then he’s out the door with surprising quickness. Jayce waves goodbye but doesn’t close the door or return inside until he can no longer see his friend in the shadows of the setting sun.

***

Jayce hums as he walks up the drive to the Kiramman Manor. The last of the wisteria flowers are still in bloom though with the heat of summer around the corner, it won't be long before the blossoms start to wither and vanish. Still, he enjoys the sweet fragrance of them as he climbs the steps to the front door. He pauses briefly before he pulls the chain to ring the bell to check his appearance and correct any perceived flaws. He's left the bomber jacket home in favor of his nicest dress coat in deep reds and blues, which he pulls straight and dusts off the knees of his trousers. Satisfied, he rings the bell and is startled when Caitlyn yanks the door open less than a minute later.

“Thank the gods it's you,” she huffs, dragging him inside by his elbow, “Mother is driving me crazy.”

Jayce does his best to stumble along behind her as she drags him through the halls, pausing only to grab a rifle from a rack on the wall, and then out the mansion and into one of the private gardens. She doesn’t let up, yanking him along to the nearest shooting grounds. Finally, she releases his arm in favor of loading the gun. Jayce knows better than to interrupt her so he backs up slowly until he feels a bench behind him and sinks down onto it. 

With a snap, Caitlyn brings the rifle up to her shoulder and takes aim. One… two… three bullseyes before he can even blink. He whistles low under his breath. Seemingly calmer now, Caitlyn turns to him with a sheepish grin.

“Sorry about that,” she says as she tucks a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “Mother has been interfering with my school life again.” She sighs and starts reloading her weapon. 

“Why don’t you tell me what happened, Sprout?” 

She grins at him. “Thought you’d never ask.”

“...and that,” she says as the echo of the rifle crack fades, “is when I told the teacher what she was doing.”

“And what did he do about it?”

“Nothing of course. They’re all useless. But I couldn’t sit by and watch as she bullied that poor girl. Not when I could say something, that is.”

“I hope you didn’t get in any trouble for that.”

“No…I have Mother to thank for that I suppose,” Caitlyn says with a slight frown, “She doesn’t understand that she can’t just fight all my battles for me. She’s always interfering.” With a jerk she reloads her weapon and hits a trickshot with almost no effort. She’s impressive. In more ways than one.

“I think you did the right thing, Sprout,” he tells her frankly. “And I think you’ll make an excellent enforcer some day. I wouldn’t let these bullies get you down.” She smiles at him, pleased with his approval. 

“You really think so?” she asks, then flops down next to where he is sitting on the bench and looks up at the clouds above, “But what about you? How are your classes going? Mother seems pleased so it must be going well.” He grins at her and launches into an abbreviated version of the past semester. He’s in the middle of a hilarious story about how Professor Heimerdinger’s pet poro accidentally ripped the Head of Biology’s trousers down during the biggest assembly of the year, when Cassandra Kiramman burst in. 

She's out of breath, looking around frantically until she sees Caitlyn staring up at her in surprise. Relief floods her face and she rushes to her daughter and wraps her in her arms. Caitlyn looks to Jayce and then her mother in confusion. Councilor Kiramman is usually reserved and had never, as far as Jayce was aware, been one for public displays of affection. Given Caitlyn's reaction he feels as though he was correct in his assessment. Jayce sits frozen, unsure of how to react to this intimate mother daughter moment. 

Suddenly, as if coming to, Cassandra Kiramman straightens and releases her daughter. She resumes her usual, placid demeanor and she turns to Jayce apologetically.

“I’m so sorry you had to witness my lapse in judgement, Jayce. And I must apologize that I won’t be able to stay to hear about your progress. I'm afraid an emergency Council meeting has been called and I must leave immediately.” With an apologetic look, she sweeps out as suddenly as she had arrived. The two give each other worried looks.

“What do you think that was about?” Jayce asks. Caitlyn shrugs.

“Whatever it was, it can’t be good.” 

***

The next morning, Jayce wakes to a choking feeling in his throat. He blinks awake, eyes stinging and staggers to his bedroom window. The sky above is a sickly shade of yellow and he sees the pedestrians below him coughing and clutching handkerchiefs to shield their noses and throats. In the distance above the Progress Bridge, is an ominous column of smoke which seems to be the source of the haze. 

Dressing quickly, Jayce leaves the house in search of a newspaper. Most are sold out, but he finds one discarded on the street that someone must have tossed after reading, and scans the headlines greedily. The horror that chokes him is almost as palpable as the smoke. Every headline is screaming about a night of absolute carnage. 

There was a riot. A mob from the Undercity had gathered and became violent towards the enforcers stationed at the bridge. Grainy photos show pictures of bodies scattered on the ground and fires still raging out of control. An in memoriam lists the names of the fallen enforcers from what the papers are labelling the “Day of Ash”. 

Jayce feels sick. He has a sudden, mad urge to race to the bridge. He needs to see, to be sure that Viktor wasn’t there, isn’t still there. His feet start leading him there before he remembers himself. Obviously, the borders have been closed. He tries to think, choking on the thick smoke. While he’s still standing there, confused and panicked, a squadron of enforcers rushes past him. 

One turns and says to him gruffly, “Hey! Kid! It's not safe to be on the streets right now. Find shelter immediately!”

Another turns and calls out, “And if you see anyone from the Undercity, don't engage. Just contact an enforcer as soon as you can!” They disappear around a corner leading towards the bridge. He stares at them wide eyed for a second until his brain finally catches up to what they said. There's people from the Undercity who made it through. Viktor has to be one of them. He's clever enough to get through. Unless…

Jayce ignores the warning. He starts running for the river. That's always where Viktor always waits for him. He has to be there. If he couldn't get through the barrier he's probably there, waiting for Jayce to help him up the falls. Or maybe he’s injured and needs Jayce to rescue him. 

That thought causes Jayce to run even faster, despite his lungs screaming at him for fresh air. He rounds the alley corner so fast he skids, hitting the ground hard with his knees and hands and almost colliding with the crates and barrels that line the building walls. A grocer, who he's only barely missed during his fall, shouts something incomprehensible at him but he's already scrambling back to his feet. 

“Sorry!” he calls out without even glancing back. The cobblestone streets begin to become less even, stones jutting out at odd angles and the dirt between them becomes wider and wider until Jayce is running along the dirt path that leads to the river's banks. The smoke and ash in the air thickens as he gets closer to the source of the fires. He can distantly make out the calls of the firemen shouting orders to one another as they battle the last of the flames. He coughs and tries to breathe through the crook in his arm. It’s only the shooting pain from a stitch in his side that finally causes his pace to slow. He makes one final turn and then he sees it.

“No…no, no, NO!” he cries as he staggers up to the barrier gate that's been erected. He presses his face against the thick chain link fence and looks up. Barbed wire is entangled at the top of the fence in a thick nest. Even if he were capable of climbing and getting over, there'd be no way to get Viktor back across with him. He tries to rattle the chain but it's so thick and heavy it barely moves.

“Viktor! Viktor, are you there!? Can you hear me!?” he shouts as loud as he can, “Viktor! Answer me if you can–” he breaks into a series of coughs. There's no reply. He calls again, his voice hoarse, but there’s still no answer. He waits for five, then ten, then twenty minutes. Defeated, Jayce turns and starts his painful journey back home. 

When he arrived, his mother was pacing the halls and wringing her hands. Helene was following behind her, trying in vain to calm her down. She lifts her head as the front door opens and flings herself at him.

“Oh, gods! Jayce! I was so worried!” she cries, hugging him tightly, “I couldn’t find you this morning and there’s smoke everywhere. I didn’t know what had happened to you!”

“I…I’m sorry, mom,” he chokes, his voice nearly gone. “I just needed to be sure that he was safe…”

“Oh, mijo… ” she smiles wetly at him and wipes a tear from his eye that he wasn’t even aware of. 

He doesn’t question that his mom knows exactly who he is talking about, though they never mention him by name.

***

The fires have all been put out, though the sky remains dark and overcast. 

Jayce holed himself up in his room for two days. On the third day, his mother gently knocks at the door. He doesn’t answer her.

“Jayce, would you like to come down? Martha has made conchas for you, I know they’re your favorite.” He remains silent. Staring up at the ceiling from his position on the bed, he wonders if Viktor is alright. The makeshift school uniform is still bundled under his bed, serving as his single reminder that the past few months hadn’t been imagined. That there was a time where Viktor was here. 

He doesn’t react when the door opens and his mother steps into the room. The end of the bed dips as she sits down, trying to catch his eye. He turns away from her and faces the wall. She begins speaking again.

“Classes are starting back today, aren’t they?” she asks in a tone that suggests she doesn’t expect an answer. She waits a moment for him to respond. When he doesn’t, she continues softly, “I think you should go back to the Academy. It’ll help you get your mind off of things.”

Reaching out a hand, she caresses his arm. He curls into a ball. He knows she’s right, but he isn’t ready to face it yet. His mom gives his arm a gentle squeeze. “I expect you downstairs in twenty minutes, yes?” She doesn’t wait for a response, rising to her feet and sweeping out of the room. 

So he washed, donned his uniform, and left. 

He had half deluded himself that Viktor would be there waiting for him when he arrived. Of course he wasn’t. The borders are still closed both ways. Only enforcers and rescue volunteers are allowed through.

On his way, he buys a paper from a newsboy and tucks it under his arm. It now sits on the table in front of him, headline screaming “CORPSES STILL CLOGGING RIVERWAYS”. Deliberately, he turns it over so he doesn’t have to keep looking at it. On the back, he sees a smaller headline but the impact it has on him is even greater. “Could Mining Cave-In Be Linked To Riot? see more on page…” Jayce flips to the article, heart sinking. Below him, Heimerdinger is lecturing about numbers and formulas as though the whole world hadn’t been turned upside down. 

Even after the lecture has ended, Jayce remains frozen. The seat next to him is conspicuously empty. Around him, his fellow classmates are gathering their things together and gossiping about the news of the bridge.

“...Naturally, it’s just like trenchers to escalate things...violent natures my dad says…”

“...Exactly, how hard is it to just do what the enforcers tell you to do?...”

“...I hope they punished whoever it was who started the fires…are you going to the enforcer memorial?...yeah, Ana’s aunt died in the attack…”

Jayce clenches his fists. He’s just on the verge of starting a confrontation when Heimerdinger appears suddenly in front of him.

“Talis, my boy. Just who I was hoping to see. Would you have a moment to speak privately with me in my office for a moment?” 

The two climb the stairs to where Heimerdinger’s private office is located at the top of the Academy Tower. The office is as grand and finely decorated as one would expect for someone of the professor’s status. An enormous stained glass window takes up one wall, bathing the room in orange and blue hues. Bookcases line the walls alongside floor to ceiling blackboards covered in research notes. Jayce thinks he recognized Viktor’s neat script among the writing on the board. Heimerdinger crosses the room and takes a seat at the comically large desk in the center of the room. Jayce lowers himself into one of the chairs positioned in front of it, his jaw aching from how much he’s been clenching his teeth.

“Ahem,” the professor clears his throat, “I wanted to ask you if–”

“Did you know about the mine?” Jayce interrupts, his voice low. The Yordle looks startled, then his face falls and he looks away guiltily. His reaction tells Jayce everything he needs to know, but he presses on. “You’re the Head of the Council right? You have to have known about this,” he throws the paper on the desk in front of him in contempt, “150 people lost their lives, but it isn’t even front page news?”

Heimerdinger sighs, his usually bright eyes hold within them a deep sadness. “My boy, there are many things that you are too young to understand,” he steeples his fingers and sighs again deeply. “To answer your question, yes. I did know about the cave in.”

Jayce furrows his brow. “Then why didn’t you do anything?” 

“Our hands were tied, I'm afraid. How much do you know about the history of the twin cities?”

Jayce shrugs. “Enough I guess. We used to be one city until the Undercity sank. Then Piltover was formed.”

“Essentially, yes. When I arrived to found Piltover, the city had already split into two. Even then, the Undercity was a lawless place. I admit, I made some mistakes in the beginning. I left the Undercity to itself until its crime and degeneracy started to infect Piltover. If I wanted Piltover to become the City of Progress that I dreamt of, the Undercity needed to be controlled.” 

The professor leans forward and begins to shuffle some papers on his desk. “When it became clear that the denizens were resistant to our way of governance, we devised a new strategy. Before any policy regarding the Undercity could be enacted, the Council had to have a vote and the outcome had to be decided by a supermajority. This helped to bring an end to the infighting amongst the Councilmen, but in this case…” He gently folds the papers and tucks them into an envelope. He looks pleadingly at Jayce, as though begging him to understand. Jayce squirms uncomfortably in his seat. He doesn’t like where this conversation is leading. “I’m afraid that we weren’t able to come to an agreement,” he concludes. He stamps the envelope with his official seal. 

“But that isn’t what I wanted to talk with you about,” he says as he hands Jayce the envelope. “I believe that you and Mr. Young are close, are you not?” Jayce nods hesitantly. “And I have reason to believe that he’s currently trapped in the Undercity right now.” Jayce pales. 

Leaping to his feet he starts, “Professor, it’s not what you think! We didn’t…I mean we just…”

“Please, calm yourself my boy. Neither you, nor Mr. Young, are in any trouble.” For the first time since the meeting began, Heimerdinger smiles at Jayce. “I’ll admit, it was a bold plan. To dress up as an Academy student and attend classes without enrolling. It’s almost genius in its simplicity. I must say, it came as quite a surprise to me when I went to look Viktor Young up in the roster and found that no such student existed. I was wondering how such a promising young man had managed to slip under my radar.” He winks at Jayce, “I suppose it’s easier to do so when you officially never existed.”

He taps the envelope hanging loosely in Jayce’s hand. “If you see Mr. Young again, please give him this. It will secure his future here at the Academy.”

“So…” Jayce begins, “You aren’t angry with us?” He turns the paper over to study the seal. “Even though we broke the rules?”

“My boy, this Academy was founded in order to nurture the next generation of scientific innovators. I believe that you and your friend both embody the best that Piltover has to offer. Of course I’m not angry. Now, hang onto that for Viktor and please stress to him that he will always have a place here in Piltover.”

Jayce nods, placing the envelope in his vest pocket over his heart. “I will, sir.” 

***

Summer arrived and the border remained closed. For the first weeks, Jayce only left his home to walk to the bridge and then back again. At home, he stays holed up in his room, staring at the ceiling or out the window towards the Undercity. His mom, Helene, and Martha all try to coax him out of the house through various means but he refuses. 

When Darius stops by to invite him to a house party, his mother practically throws him out of the house. 

“Go, have a good time,” she says, shoving him out the door. He didn’t want to, but he also didn’t want to have an argument with his mom in front of Darius. 

The party was alright. All of Jayce’s old school friends were there, drinking and socializing. A cup is thrust into his hand and he drinks without questioning it. From the burn, he can tell it’s alcohol but he doesn’t register much else. One drink becomes two, which becomes four or five and then he loses count. 

Somehow he finds himself dancing in the middle of the room, music blaring from one of the new portable turntables that have become all the rage. His dancing is uncoordinated, but no one around him seems to notice or care. Boys and girls both join him on the floor. By now his head is spinning and he can barely keep up with what’s happening. He lurches over to one of the couches and sits heavily. He groans as the room continues to spin around him. Darius and a pretty red haired girl suddenly appear next to him on the couch.

“Um, you ok there buddy?” Darius asks with concern. Jayce can only moan in response.

“Let’s help him stand,” the girl says. She looks familiar. He tries to remember how he knows her. 

Right, the girl from the exam, Ren,  he thinks blearily.

They heave him upright and the world starts tilting. 

“Gods…he’s turning green…” Ren says, voice filled with alarm.

“Quick! Get him outside!” 

As one, they drag him out of the house and into the muggy night air. Jayce leans against a wall heaving, while his friends hover in concern around him. Once the contents of his stomach has been emptied, he feels marginally better. He groans and wipes at his sweaty face. 

“I think I’d like to go home now…” he manages to get out before he leans over the wall one final time.

***

The next morning, he has a raging hangover. His mom comes in and brings him lukewarm porridge, toast, and tea then leaves him alone to try to sleep it off. Although he feels miserable, he was glad that he went out. Last night, he had an epiphany. He reaches under his shirt and pulls out the runestone. He caresses the familiar stone, tracing the runic carving with his fingertips. Before last night, he hadn’t been thinking of much of anything at all. He felt adrift. As if his emotions, mind, and body had each been placed on a separate slide, and he can only access one at a time under the microscope.

But last night had been different. Somewhere along the walk home, leaning on his friends’ shoulders for support, the answer had come to him. 

He’d been having the dream again. The one where he’s trapped in the snow with his mother. But this time, the mage appeared. He had approached Jayce slowly, almost menacingly. Jayce pressed himself over his mom, unsure if he should call out for help or try to protect the two of them from the stranger. The mage stopped in front of Jayce and held out his hand. Confused, Jayce just looked at him. The mage thrust his hand in front of Jayce again, more urgently this time. Suddenly, Jayce can see the runestone in the hand in front of him. Hesitantly, he held out his own and the mage dropped the stone into his outstretched hand. As soon as it hit his mitten, the world was bathed in blue and Jayce always woke up, panting and confused as to what it meant. The dream always felt so real and so urgent. As if he was missing some obvious piece of the puzzle. 

As soon as he was home and ensconced in his bedroom, he grabbed the stone from around his neck. It occurred to him that the blue of the stone matched that of the little figurines on his mom’s beloved teapot. It had sparked an idea. If technology and magic could be combined, technology powered by magic, he could share that beauty with the world. And maybe, it could be used to help those who needed it most. He sat up even though his head was still throbbing. Dragging himself to his desk, he shuffled through the drawers until he found a blank notebook. In bold letters at the top he wrote: HEXTECH. He smiled, satisfied, then signed his name at the bottom.

***

Jayce pours over another tome, before he slams it shut in frustration. 

He’s sitting in the Piltover Library in the tiny corner relegated to the books dedicated to magic. It’s a part of the library that was already very familiar to him. As a kid, this place seemed almost as magical as the books it held within. He would spend hours daydreaming about mages and runestones, doodling pictures of himself as a wizard in the margins of his copy of “Marvelous Adventures”.

Now though, as he pulls another book in front of him with a groan, he realizes that this section left a lot to be desired.

Most of the books held within their pages only a passing mention of magic. A few held some charts about runes, which he had already copied and memorised as a child. Only one or two actually delved deep into the subject, but the writers assumed a comprehensive understanding of magic on the part of the reader. Trying to read through the dense texts gave Jayce a headache. If he was going to pursue this seriously, he needed to be able to find better sources for his research. Perhaps he would have more luck at the Academy library.

Already, it was almost the end of summer and he had not gotten nearly as far as he had hoped on Hextech. And Darius was begging him to come to some stupid meetup before the end of the summer. Ren had finally found a patron and would be entering the Academy in the fall and Darius wanted to throw her a surprise celebration party. 

It was sweet, Jayce supposed. It was obvious that Darius was madly in love with Ren, but since the night of the party, she’s been following Jayce around like a loyal puppy, constantly asking him questions about the Academy and wanting to know what he was working on. Jayce has little patience for love triangles right now. Not with the mystery of Hextech to keep him distracted and the hope that the border talks would be concluded soon.

The Council has been in closed door meetings for days with a representative from the Undercity. It had quickly become clear that closing the borders entirely was having a negative effect on Piltover’s economy. With trade between the two cities halted, prices had soared on raw materials as they had to be shipped in from surrounding countries. Noxus had eagerly stepped up to fulfill orders and facilitate trade. Too eagerly. Many rightfully didn’t trust that Noxus’s aid came without strings attached. The Undercity also made up a not insignificant percentage of Piltover’s export market. Traders and sellers have been lamenting to the Council nearly every day since the border’s closure.

The Talis forge had not been immune to this upheaval. Most of their iron and steel was mined and manufactured in the Undercity. To keep up with existing orders and contracts, expensive wrought iron had been ordered from Freljord, but they’d had to sell the finished products at a loss. His mom had been coming home every day, looking more and more exhausted as she worked to keep the forge afloat. 

Just tonight at dinner she confessed her worries to him. “I really don’t know what we’ll do if the borders aren’t opened again soon.” She wrung her hands. “Another shipment is running late and House Cadwalder is threatening to not renew when their contract ends. If they pull out, others will probably follow suit.” Her head dropped into her hands. Jayce could only stare down at his plate feeling helpless. 

The chiming of the bells pulls Jayce out of his reverie and he stands and stretches with a groan. He picks up the book he had been struggling through to check out and puts away the rest of his notes in his satchel. 

The sun is starting to set as he trots down the library steps. A sudden twinge in his hand gives him pause. He stares down at the faint scar before clenching his fist. He doesn’t head toward the party as planned. Instead, his steps lead him back to the Progress Bridge for the first time since the Day of Ash. 

He’s surprised to see a trickle of people slowly pouring through the barricade. He quickens his pace until he’s standing in front of the enforcer barracks. 

“What’s going on?” he asks the first enforcer who doesn’t look particularly busy.

“Word just came down from the Council. The borders are provisionally opened to those who have official business in either Piltover or the Undercity,” the enforcers says, clearly bored. He yawns and starts peeling a piece of fruit before continuing, “We’re just here to make sure everyone’s papers are legitimate and keep order.” 

Jayce takes a breath, about to ask another question when he hears a voice that he thought he would only ever hear again in his dreams.

“Please sir, I’m an Academy student. I need to cross the border,” the voice pleads softly. Accent shaping every word.

Jayce sways, his head turning sharply to try to find the speaker. 

Viktor is standing in a line off to the side, leaning heavily on his cane. He looks thinner than he was last time Jayce saw him, with dark circles painting the skin under his eyes purple. His clothes are ragged and his hair has grown out, waves sticking out in every direction. Jayce thinks that he’s never seen a more beautiful human being before.

The enforcer in front of Viktor is starting to raise his voice and him. Jayce moves before he has time to think.

“Vik! Viktor!” he cries and their eyes meet. Viktor’s eyes widen as though he’s seeing a ghost.

“Jayce?” he breathes, then louder “Jayce! What are you doing here?” The enforcers watch this little back and forth with barely disguised disgust.

“If you don’t have official business I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to step out of line,” the burly enforcer in front of Viktor grumbles and a young enforcer, seemingly eager to earn the respect of his superiors, grabs at Viktor’s arm forcefully.

“Wait!” Jayce screams, desperate. “Wait! I have his papers right here!” He reaches into his satchel, cursing under his breath. Tucked in the very bottom is the envelope from Heimerdinger. He thanks whatever god might be listening that he had stuffed it into his bag and never took it out. Finally, after groping and finding every item except the one he’s searching for, he locates the envelope and presents it to the gruff enforcer. 

Looking bored, the enforcer breaks the seal and scans the papers inside.

“Well, this all looks in order. Let him through.” 

The young enforcer releases Viktor’s arm reluctantly and Jayce staggers forward to meet him.

Feeling as though he may actually be dreaming, he wraps his arms around Viktor who collapses into them.

“Come on, let’s get you home,” he murmurs softly into Viktor’s ear. Viktor squeezes him tightly in return.

“Yes, let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Seven

A Great Tragedy

Viktor must be in hell.

That’s the only explanation. 

He must have died at some point during this wretched night. Cowering in a drain pipe, he squeezes his eyes shut and prays that when he opens them again, this will all have been a nightmare.

***

Earlier that morning he had been awakened by his mother pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“ Kitten,” she murmurs sweetly, “We are leaving for our shift now, but we will have the afternoon off to spend together, yes?” She combs her fingers through his hair and he sleepily leans into the touch.

Too tired to speak, he only nods in response, snuggling deeper under the covers. He has a vague awareness of his parents laughing softly to each other, no doubt planning the fun they would all have this afternoon, before the door shuts and the key turns in the lock. Lightly, he dozed for a while longer until, finally feeling refreshed, he rose and started to get ready for the day. 

He has some rohlik with hard cheese for breakfast while reviewing his notes from class. He happily sketches some rough drafts while finishing a cup of tea and sweeping up the spilled crumbs. Satisfied with his work, he sets his notebook aside and moves back into the bedroom to get dressed. His mother had left the new clothes she made for the festival neatly folded on the end of his bed as a reminder to him to wear them instead of grabbing the first thing he laid his hands on from the wardrobe as was his usual custom. He pulls on the soft patchwork breeches and new cream colored shirt that had purple patches at the elbow. But the real star is the new green vest with hand embroidered vines and leaves embellishing the front of it. When he puts it on, he feels stylish. Even his mismatched work boots don’t detratch from the feeling.

It isn’t very often that he takes the time to really dress up. Typically, he prefers more utilitarian styles. He doesn’t like having to think too hard about what he’s wearing or how it looks. However, as he attempts to comb his hair flat in front of the bathroom mirror, he can’t help thinking that Jayce would approve of his appearance. The thought makes him a bit giddy, even as his efforts only make his hair stick up in the back even more than it already was. He gives up and decides that this is as good as he’s ever going to look. Giving his reflection a shy smile, he finds he’s actually pleased with what he sees. He may not be as handsome as Jayce, but he certainly isn’t without charm, though his mother’s tailoring may be doing most of the heavy lifting. Deciding to leave on that note, he packs his bag and locks the front door tightly behind him before he heads out.

The majority of the festivities will take place on the Promenade. Its wider streets and cleaner air makes it more ideal for large gatherings. He takes his time as he makes his way up. Despite, or perhaps because of, its polluted atmosphere, weather patterns in Zaun are often more intense than they are in Piltover. Small rains Topside lead to massive floods below, and even though they don’t get as much sun, the higher humidity leads to hotter summers and colder winters. But on spring days like today, the weather is quite pleasant. Cool, with a gentle breeze blowing away the worst of the smoggy air. It will only be a bit longer until the nights get warm enough to wake the firelights from their hibernation, marking the beginning of summer. He passes by swamp lilies starting to blossom, their red, pink, and white petals curling up towards the rare rays of sun shining down on them. With excitement, he sees that the yellow field roses are starting to bud. They are his mother’s favorite flower and he can’t wait to surprise her with some once they are in full bloom. 

As he enters the Lanes, he stops by one of the bakeries, remembering his promise to Jayce. Once he explained to the shopkeep that they were for a special friend of his who lived Topside, she had happily given him first pick. 

“You made a good choice coming to us,” she says, beaming as she carefully wraps the cream and jam filled pastries in wax paper for him. “We make the best Riddle-Tarts this side of Zaun. You’ll have to let me know what your young man thinks of them,” she winks as she hands the little package to him. 

“Of course, Zolla,” he grins. Gently, he places the little package in his satchel being careful not to crush them. “Thank you very much. I’m sure he’ll love them.”

“And tell your mother to stop by anytime she likes. She can have whatever she’d like, it’s on the house,” Zolla calls out to him as he opens the door to leave. “I can’t thank her enough for all the mending she did to our aprons and curtains.” She gestures to those items with a sweep of her arm. 

Over his shoulder, Viktor assures her that he’ll tell his mother and with a wave, he hurries once again to make it to the uppermost level in time to help.

As soon as he arrives, he’s placed in a supervisory role directing the stall set up. It’s a job he’s quite familiar with, as it’s one of the few that doesn’t require much physical labor. Standing on a crate, he directs the unfolding action.

“Nikola,” he calls out to the older, heavy-set man setting up the stalls for the market, “I think you’re going to need to move it over to the left.”

“Yeah, Nik, you big lug,” the man’s wife, Maggie, says over Viktor’s shoulder, “No one’ll even be able to squeeze in unless they’re as skinny as Vikky here.” She gives Viktor a playful nudge which he shyly returns. Nikola grumbles and mutters something under his breath that sounds very much as though he’s inviting them to take a large bite of a particular phallic shaped object. 

Viktor laughs heartily alongside the man’s wife. Continuing to grumble, Nikola squats and begins trying to move the whole stall without taking it apart. The stream of curses only intensifies when the stall refuses to budge. 

Viktor realizes that he’s missed this. Nikola and his wife have been his next door neighbors since he was only just old enough to toddle around. Nikola used to work at one of the chem-factories until an accident caused him to lose vision in his right eye. As a young child, Viktor had been fascinated by the milky color, like a beautiful blue pearl. He would sit for hours staring up at it while Nikola told stories of Old Zaun and what life was like working at one of the old factories.

“That was before the Barons, y’know,” he would say to Viktor conspiratorially. “Back then, the workers had a greater say in how things were run.” He would sigh here and look off into the distance. “Then the Barons came and started making deals with the Pilties. That’s when they stopped listenin’ to what we had to say and started putting profits above everything else. Do you wanna hear about what happened to my eye?” Viktor would always nod enthusiastically, both intrigued and horrified.

“Oh, don’t tell Vikky such an awful story!” Maggie would always cut in at this point, putting away her knitting. “If his parents report back to me that Vikky’s been having nightmares again, you’ll never get another cent from me for one of your little card games.” Without fail, that caused Nikola to pout and end the stories, much to Viktor’s disappointment. Thinking about it, they were probably the closest thing he had to grandparents or any other kind of extended family. 

He grins down at Nikola, who has not once let up his cursing, even as Maggie has come to join him in trying to fix the placement of the stall. 

“And when will your parents be joining us?” Maggie asks, wiping her brow. “I may have someone interested in commissioning them for some work. I told them about that beautiful school uniform they made for you and they want something similar made for their daughter.”

Viktor grins, and stares up at the sky. From here he can just make out the time from the huge clocktower in Piltover. “It’s about half past 11 bells,” he tells her. “So they have a few more hours before they get off work.” She nods then hastens to help Nikola with the next stall that is currently threatening to fall to pieces over his head.

Just as they were hanging up the final banners a young man, little older than Viktor himself, careens up the Lanes. His eyes are blown wide in panic and thick dust covers him from head to toe. He doubles over for a second, hands on his knees as he tries to catch his breath. 

“The mine!” he wails after gasping for a few minutes, “There’s been an accident! They need all hands on deck! Please! Oh Janna…” His eyes roll to the back of his head and he collapses in a heap on the ground. For several seconds, no one moves. Viktor stands frozen, a faint ringing in his ears. The world seems to narrow down to a pinprick and the only image he can focus on is the limp form of the man in front of him. Then everyone moves at once. 

A few rush to the man, helping him to sit up and offering water. One person checks his pulse while another holds him upright and shines a small light in his eyes, even as the man’s head lolls sickeningly to the side. The rest move as one to the industrial lift that will take them directly to the Fissures. 

Viktor remains frozen for a moment longer. Finally his limbs catch up to his mind and he starts moving to catch up with the retreating crowd.

***

He’s one of the last to make it to the disaster zone. The entrance to the mine is completely buried under boulders. The whole area is in utter chaos. Some men are running around barking orders while others are helping to uncover those who are trapped in the rubble near the surface. A tent has been set up with a number of sawbones to attend to the injured. Viktor rushes to the medical tent first. He scours each and every face, praying to find among them his parents, alive and well. 

Standing to his left, just inside the tent flap, a foreman is explaining what happened to an absolute giant of a man who, from his demeanor, seems to be the one in charge. He’s wiry. Taller than Viktor, though seeming short compared to the man he’s talking to. 

“It happened in a flash,” the foreman says tiredly, lighting a crooked cigarette with shaky hands. “My best guess? There was a gas leak and well, you know how volatile they can be. All it takes is a spark.” The foreman takes a long drag. He holds the smoke in his lungs for a moment, studying the ceiling of the tent as though it will give him some kind of answer, before exhaling into a sigh. “The main shaft was hit, we have about a hundred people who were deep in the mines that we haven’t been able to contact. No idea who, if anyone, is still alive down there. The rest were hit with the aftershock and the rock fall. I know we have some casualties but I can’t give you any hard numbers,” he states, a note of resignation seeping into his voice. He takes another drag of his cigarette before he flicks it down and stamps on it with a steel toed boot.

“Thanks, I’ll send a tube Topside. Ask for some earth moving equipment and medical aid. This is what they’re supposed to be for right?” the huge man asks turns to go. His eyes happen to catch Viktor’s and he gives him a sad smile. He departs and Viktor goes back to searching frantically for his parents.

He doesn’t find them. He looks again. Twice, he had his hopes raised only to have them painfully smashed once the injured person turned around. Unable to merely stand by, he joins the others’ efforts to dig people out of the rubble, using only his hands, praying that this will all have been a nightmare. 

Viktor works for what feels like hours. Kneeling on the ground, he uses his cane to scrape at the rocky soil around the entrance to the mine. By now, his hands are bleeding and caked in mud while his back and leg are screaming at him in pain. He welcomes it though. Thinking about the pain prevents him from having to think about anything else. He doesn’t have to focus on the cries for help and wailing behind him or the endless pile of rocks in front of him. Steadily, he breathes in and out, turning over one stone at a time. 

He gasps when a large hand comes down on his shoulder. 

“Son,” the voice above him is familiar, deep and warm, “I think you’ve done enough. Why don’t you take a rest?” Viktor glances up and is met by the gentle, sad blue eyes of the man from earlier. He blinks up at him in bewilderment as the man gestures towards the medical tent. They stare mutely at each other until, with a sigh, the large man helps Viktor to his feet. 

When he sees the cane clutched in Viktor’s hand he says kindly, “Here, just lean on me. There you go. We’ll get you set to right in a sec.”

The two make their way to the tent with the large man practically carrying Viktor the remaining steps when his leg muscles suddenly refused to work any longer. Once they reach it, he slumps to the ground and leans back against one of the poles. Someone hands him a water skin that he holds numbly in his hands. 

“You better have a drink, son. It’ll help,” the man tells him. Obediently, he takes a sip. When the water hits his tongue, he realizes for the first time how parched he was. He starts drinking greedily, choking a bit when the water hits the back of his throat too forcefully. The foreman comes back and begins conversing again with the large man in low tones.

“Janna’s tits! It’s been hours! What is taking them so long? We could be saving lives, or at least bringing closure to​​ the families.”

“The bastards are probably still yapping. You know how they are. Buncha stuck up pricks who can’t even do the one thing they say we need them for.” The man crosses his arms and says, “Ah, here we go. I bet that’s from them. Oi!” he shouts. A small man runs up cradling the pnuema tube in his arms.

“Hound, they won’t help!” the man gasps as he approaches. “They said that this is an Undercity issue and we should handle it ourselves.” 

“Let me see that,” the man, Hound, growls, as he rips the top of the pnuema tube off and scans the message within. “Those bastards!” he bellows, “Those bloody bastards! They’re the ones who increased the quotas and stopped requiring inspections. Oh, Sil’s gonna love this.” 

“What about the Barons? Surely they can do something.” the foreman asks, rolling another cigarette. But Hound scoffs.

“They won’t help us. They don’t do anything unless their Topside overlords permit it. Too worried about upsetting trade deals than helping their own people,” he spits. 

Still on the ground, Viktor can only sit, frozen in horror, at the conversation happening around him. There was no one coming to save them. 

***

He stayed at the mines helping as long as he could, working until his legs once again gave out from under him and he could no longer stand. Nikola is the one to find him curled up in a ball by the mine entrance.

“Come on Vikky, let’s get you home,” the man grunts as he holds Viktor’s arm across his shoulder. “And don’t forget your cane.”

The next thing Viktor knows, he’s back in his flat. It was eerily silent and stuffy. Distantly, Viktor thinks that the filter must have stopped working again. Feeling like a ghost, Viktor moves from room to room, as though his parents may actually still be here and this will all have turned out to be a horrible misunderstanding. 

The apartment is empty, as he knew it would be. He thinks briefly about getting something to eat, but the idea makes his stomach roil. Instead, he curls up on the couch under his mother’s favorite quilt. He wraps it tightly around himself and pretends that it’s his mothers arms, not cloth. In his hand he clutches his father’s prized pocket watch. It had been commissioned by one of the barons before Viktor was born, and his parents had hoped that it would help get his father’s watch shop on the map. But the baron never showed up to collect it, and the dream of supporting his wife and soon to be born child had died soon after. But rather than trying to resell it, his father kept the watch instead. 

As a toddler, Viktor used to play with it, first as a teething toy then later learning how to take it apart and put it back together. His father had been so proud of him, showing it off to his mother who had oohed and awed appropriately at his clever work. 

Clutched in his hand, the watch now stands still, the gears having stopped at the exact hour that the mine was said to have caved in. Viktor keeps staring at it, willing the hands to start moving again. They don’t.

***

Hours later, Viktor is startled awake by a tapping at the door. He sits up confused, blinking groggily at the darkened room. Usually, his mom would have dinner going at the stove by now, humming a tune as she stirred a pot of stew. Papa would tinkering in a corner or reading from one of his big books about horology. For a moment, he can’t understand why they aren’t here.

Then in a rush, the events of the day come back to him. The mine, the cave in, the dirt that’s still under his nails from trying to dig out survivors. His breaths start coming in short, desperate gasps. Before he can sink deeper into his despair the knocking at the door starts again. Rising, he wraps the quilt around his shoulders and stumbles painfully to the front door.

“Yes?” he asks, opening the door a crack. Nikola and Maggie are standing in the hallway. He undoes the chain and opens the door wider.

“How you holdin’ up, kid?” Nikola asks while his wife tuts over his shoulder at Viktor.

Viktor’s face must be all the answer they need.

“Can we come in?” Nikola gently inquires. Viktor nods and steps aside to let them in. He turns on the chem-lights, squinting as harsh light floods the flat, bathing everything in a sickly green hue. 

“I can make some tea,” Viktor offers as he shuffles to the kitchen. 

“That’s alright, we won’t be keeping you long,” Maggie says, taking a seat at the table. “We just wanted to check in on you, see how you’re doing.”

“That’s very kind,” Viktor says from the stove. He puts the kettle on anyway. Now that he’s up, his body has decided to remind him that it’s been hours since he has last had anything to eat or drink. While Viktor busies himself in the kitchen, Nikola and his wife share a look, only the tail end of which Viktor catches when he turns back towards them.

“Ahem,” Nikola averts his eyes when he catches Viktor looking at him. “We wanted to let you know, and you’re under no obligation to go by the way, but we thought you would like to know that–”

“Stop stalling and just tell the boy already,” Maggie interrupts, rolling her eyes, “Or better yet, I’ll tell him.” She stares straight into Viktor’s eyes, “Vikky, there’s going to be a demonstration on the bridge. It’s being organized by the Hound and his crew. We’re going to march into Piltover and give them a piece of our mind.” Her eyes blaze as she says it. 

“We’re going to meet at The Last Drop and then start heading towards the bridge. Since you are among those directly affected by the mine, we thought we’d let you know. Give you a chance to decide if you want to go,” Nikola finishes gently. Viktor’s eyes start to water at the mention of the mine and he turns back to the stove quickly. He pours three cups of tea, handing the two unbroken mugs to his guests while keeping the handleless one for himself. He takes a small sip, relishing the burn on his lips and throat. 

“Have there been any more survivors reported?” he softly asks. Both Nikola and Maggie shift uncomfortably in their seats. Maggie loses herself in the bottom of her mug of tea while Nikola sighs. From their reactions alone he knows the answer but Nikola shakes his head dejectedly.

“No…three more people died of their injuries and we almost lost some volunteers to a sinkhole around the entrance. They’ve had to put a complete stop to the rescue efforts.” 

Viktor stares into the bottom of his own cup of tea. That was it then. No hope. No last minute miracle. 

“Look, lad,” Nikola offers him a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “As it stands, this is a part of life in Zaun. This isn’t even the first industrial accident we’ve had this year. Which is why we’re joining the march for independence. Like we said earlier, you don’t have to come. Especially since…” he looks at Viktor’s cane as it leans against the table pointedly, “But if we all work together, I think we can make Zaun just like the old days”

Viktor nods along while Nikola is talking. He’s so tired that he can feel sleep tugging at the edges of his mind. If he didn’t have company, he would already be passed out on the couch again. Yet, there is something to what they’re saying. Once, his parents had also supported a free Zaun until they were forced to stop in order to take care of him. It feels unbearably selfish to not try to honor their memory by fighting for a future where this won’t happen again. Suddenly on the verge of tears, he stands up sharply.

“Thank you,” he begins, “For the company and the information. I will think about what you have told me.” Nikola and Maggie also rise to their feet. They each press their forehead to his as way of parting and leave. 

Alone again, Viktor sits at the table and lets the tears fall. They drip down his cheeks and nose, staining the tablecloth. He stays like that until his eyes ache and the stains have run together and formed an unbroken pool beneath him. If he was hoping for catharsis, he’s sorely disappointed. He only feels worse. He scrubs his face harshly with his hands before going to the sink and splashing water on his face. 

He storms over to the front door, determined to catch up with the others when the little shelf of toys catches his eye. He pauses. The little boat stands proudly in its little place of honor at the top. Below it are the rest of the little machines that he and Jayce had made over that glorious summer three years ago. Crouching down next to them, he loses himself to reminiscence. The way that Jayce’s eyes lit up when the tiny airship first started to hover a few inches off the ground. Or how they would chase down runaway inventions, with Jayce always insisting that he be the one to enter a new cave first or jump in the water. How Jayce always brought extra food for him and told him about his extra lessons with the Kirammans, eager to share everything he could with him. Each failure, each success, all are precious memories to Viktor and he clings to them like a lifeline.

He loses all sense of time as he remains sat in front of the door. His recollection has moved from summers spent with Jayce, to his mother admiring their handiwork when he’d bring a new little machine home, and how his father always let him borrow his toolbox, even when he needed it to fulfill a watch order. He thinks of the way both of them would always take time out of their day to look for discarded scrap metal for him and Jayce to use for their little inventions. He’d hoped one day to introduce Jayce to his parents. In his wildest dreams it was as his future parents in law, but usually just as his friend. 

“ Mama, Papa,” he’d say, “ This is Jayce Talis, my other half.” Then they’d have dinner together and he would be able to give back to Jayce a fraction of what Jayce has given him. That daydream just makes him cry again. He thought he was out of tears but apparently he was mistaken. After his tears dry, he sits a moment longer, until his aching legs remind him that he needs to stand. It’s only then he remembers what he was supposed to be doing in the first place. Slipping his boots hurriedly, he slides out of the door and races to catch up once again with the others.

***

The streets are eerily quiet as he ascends to the Progress Bridge. All around him are reminders of what the day was supposed to be. Banners announcing the festivities are still hanging up while abandoned stalls are scattered about. An overturned cart spills a variety of exotic fruits into the streets. Most have been trampled. Carefully, Viktor picks his way around them. 

Ahead of him, he can hear a faint commotion. His heartbeat starts to quicken. He isn’t too late after all.

As he gets closer though, his steps start to slow. The shouting sounds less like triumphant calls for freedom and more like screams of pain and panic. The streets are also starting to glow brighter. Rather than the greenish glow of street chem-lamps or from glimpses of the moon peeking in through the towers and smog, this light has an orangish hue that flickers and wavers erratically. Every step closer to the bridge fills him with more trepidation. The screaming is starting to dissipate but he can hear a new sound. A roaring fills his ears. Usually, the air quality gets better the closer you get Topside. Instead Viktor finds himself choking and coughing on thick smoke. He keeps his head down, only focusing on putting one foot in front of the other.

When he finally looks up again, he gasps in horror. The bridge is maybe only 100 steps away from him, but thick billows of smoke obscure most of it. There’s an unpleasant smell that at first Viktor can’t place, until with dread he realizes that it’s the smell of burning hair, clothes, and flesh. He covers his mouth and nose with his hand and begins to back away. Suddenly, a sharp cry pierces the air. From the smoke a small group of figures emerge.

“Run! Run!” one of the women shouts as she passes Viktor, “The enforcers are attacking!” 

Viktor doesn’t wait to find out if her words are true. Turning on his heel, he scans the alleys for a place to hide. He spies one of the winding drain pipes and hastens towards it. Behind him, he can hear the sounds of a scuffle and hard blows being exchanged. Then, a gunshot goes off. 

He slides into the entrance way and cowers there, trying to make his body as small as possible. Several more gunshots go off and the screams start to fade. Tucking his knees under his chin, Viktor waits, ears straining for any sign that there are more enforcers coming after him. 

Hours pass. Viktor doesn’t dare to move a muscle. Eventually, he must nod off because the next thing he knows, he can see the sun starting to rise above the spiraling Piltover towers. With difficulty, he crawls stiffly out of the drain pipe, rubbing at his arms and legs to try to wake them. Afterwards, he slowly begins to take stock of his surroundings.

Even in the light of day, Viktor struggles to make sense of what he is seeing. The bridge is still burning, plumes of smoke rising up towards an unaware and sleeping Piltover. All around him are bundles of clothes, scattered in piles on the street. Confused, he walks closer to one of them, only to recoil. A pale white face stares up at him lifelessly. He turns and wretches. As fast as he can, he runs towards the heart of Zaun.

***

He tumbles through the door of his flat and lays panting on the floor. Emberflit Alley has never been a particularly comforting place. But it was his home and more importantly, it was about as far as he could get from the bridge without going all the way to the docks. After he catches his breath he bolts the door and presses his back against it. 

He isn’t sure what to do after that. It’s dawning on him just how alone he is. He drapes the quilt back over his shoulders and sits on the couch. Dimly, he’s aware that he’s both hungry and thirsty but he can’t muster the energy to care about that. He slumps over and closes his eyes and prays for a dreamless sleep.

His prayers aren’t answered. After the third time he wakes up to the sound of his own shrieking, he gives up. He decides to try to eat something instead. He wanders aimlessly around the kitchen for a few minutes before remembering that in his satchel he still has the pastries he had planned to share with Jayce. 

Opening his bag, his heart sinks. The delicate, flaky crust has been smashed and the sweet cream and summerberry jam insides bleed together in a way that reminds him too vividly of the bodies on the bridge. He hurls the bag away from himself before he can think any more about it. Tea is all he can stomach and he drinks about three cups before he decides to try sleeping again. 

Three days pass in this manner. In the morning, Viktor drinks as much tea as he can stand. Then he wanders around the flat, dusting the shelves and sweeping the floors even though no dirt has accumulated. He does this until he decides to sleep again, after which he has more tea and whatever he can find in the kitchen to eat. Then he sleeps again. A letter arrives from the mine informing him of an insurance payout. A second letter arrives on the first one's heels to let him know that the money has been claimed by medical debt collectors and applied to his outstanding obligations. The check that arrives as the remainder of his payout is so pitiful that Viktor would rather that they hadn’t bothered to send it at all. The final straw is a letter from his landlord, demanding next month’s rent payment by the end of the week or face immediate eviction.

That letter had been what finally shook Viktor out of his malaise. He took his grief and buried it deep within himself, enough so that he could function again in the world. Mechanically, he tidies the flat and grabs his little coin purse and tucks it into a secret pocket in his vest, right above his heart. He scrubs his face and marches down to the leasing office.

He pounds on the door with his cane, taking a mean pleasure in the dents he’s leaving in it. 

“Come in,” floats the voice of his landlord and Viktor opens the door then slams it none-too-gently behind him.

“Vitaly,” he says flatly, “What do you mean by this?” He hurls the letter on the man’s desk. Vitaly had been sitting back in the windowless little room with his feet propped up on the desk in front of him, cleaning his nails with a wicked looking knife. He leans forward, feet still raised, and gives the letter a disinterested look.

“I thought you were supposed to be bright,” he drawls. “The meaning seems pretty clear to me.” He then smiles at Viktor, looking for all the world like a shark. His black eyes glittering menacingly. Viktor pulls himself up to his full height. 

“It’s standard procedure that when an industrial accident has taken place resulting in the deaths of the primary earners, that a grace period of three months is to be extended to the surviving members of the family.” Viktor rattles off the information in a rush, his face growing warm with rage.

“Ah, I see the confusion.” Vitaly has leaned back again and is once again cleaning his nails with the knife. “That was the old policy. The new policy is that I get to choose when to demand rents regardless of any extenuating circumstances.” Viktor jumps when Vitaly unexpectedly stabs the desk, skewering the letter Viktor had thrown down onto it. “So, unless you have any other concerns, I’d start finding a way to earn that money right away, capiche?” 

Furious, but still wary of the knife, Viktor turns and slams the door shut again.

Once outside, Viktor tries to take a moment to calm down and catch his breath. It’s hard to do when everywhere he turns there are enforcers patrolling and barking orders at the people on the streets.

Not even the Fissures are spared their presence, gas masks obscuring their features as they stalk the narrow alleys. As he makes his way to the Lanes, Viktor is struck by the growing number of the homeless he runs into. Whole families living rough on the streets and an alarming number of children begging. He keeps a tight hold on his coin purse, knowing that he can’t afford to give any of his cogs away when he doesn’t even have any way to support himself yet. And as much as it pained him to do so, it’s a good thing that he does. 

Most of the stores and eateries are boarded up, but he eventually finds the bakery he visited on Jannas-den still open. He slips inside to find a tired looking woman tending to a mostly empty shop.

“Twelve cogs for a loaf of bread!?” he gapes at the woman. “Where’s Zolla? I want to talk to her about this.”

“Look, kid. I’m giving you a bargain. I don’t know if you realize it, but we’re all struggling here,” the woman answers. “And Zolla won’t be coming back. It’s just me from now on, so watch your tone.”

“But, it was only three cogs last week…”  

“Yeah. And that was last week.” She counts the cogs he hands over to her in a practiced manner. “The hard truth is, Topside has closed the borders. No goods in. No goods out. That includes food imports.” She gives him the bread with a warning, “I’d save as much of that as I can. I don’t know when the next shipment of flour will be and it’s only going to get more expensive here on out.” He swallows hard as he thanks her. 

***

Over time, the blame for the Day of Ash has started to turn inward and Zaun is starting to cannibalize itself. Everywhere, the echoes of the double tragedy can be seen and felt. It can be seen the fanatical street preachers prophesying the return of Janna to save them, or the lack of smog rising from the factory smokestacks as production is halted by the Barons until they have clients to sell to again. It's felt in the hungry nights. In the hollowed out cheeks and sunken eyes of the children turned away from the overcrowded Foundling Houses. It's felt in the fists of enforcers and the violence of roving street gangs. Only the brothels and the ale houses seem to not only be surviving, but thriving in this new economy.

Viktor stands in the employment line, his stomach feeling like it’s nearly touching his backbone. If he isn’t able to procure a job, he doesn’t know what he’s going to do. Nikola and Maggie never returned from their journey to the bridge and he doesn’t know whether he hopes that they died that night or were arrested. He’s only managed to last this long by selling all his family's belongings. 

The hand carved wooden table and chairs had fetched enough that he could afford the first month’s rent with enough left over to afford to eat. The couch, curtains, and tapestry combined left him able to just pay for the second month. The books, beds, and watches, scrapped for parts, scraped in just barely enough for the third. But as summer was nearing its close, Viktor’s desperation was growing. He was rapidly running out of things to sell and the prices he was getting were only going down. The pots and pans hadn’t earned him even enough for a loaf of bread, and the estimate he received for the sewing machine and fabrics left him despairing. He hasn’t had a full meal in days and nothing at all to eat today.

The line moves slowly forward, gossip surrounding him from all sides. He listens in keenly, hoping to hear something that will be useful to him. Ahead of him, two weathered men are speaking in loud tones.

“Even the chem-factory has slowed production. How much longer will we be able to keep this going?”

“I heard from the docks that they aren’t getting as many shipments in. Maybe that’s a good sign that manufacturing will start to resume again.” The two men talking are interrupted by a third, wizened older man who stands stooped over a cane, much like Viktor himself.

“I hear’d that The Hound is Topside right now, talkin’ with the Pilties.”

“Are you mad? They’d send ole Vander and not one of the Barons? I don’t believe you,” one of the men scoffs.

“Believe me or don’t, but that’s what I hear’d. That The Hound made a deal with the sheriff and he’s working something out with the Pilties.” 

“Eh, you’re full of shit.”

“Maybe so. But mark my words, the borders will be openin’ again real soon.”

Viktor’s ear pricks up at that. Before he can do much more than tuck the information away in his mind, it’s his turn and he is whisked into a stuffy office and sat in front of a greasy middle-aged man with the distinct doughy look of someone who used to engage in physical labor but whose muscles are starting to atrophy from sitting at a desk for most of the day. He eyes Viktor up and down as he enters and stamps a piece of paper in front of him. Viktor does not take this as a good sign.

I’m sorry…uh…what was your name again?”

“It’s Viktor,” he replies, trying to keep the frustration he’s feeling out of his voice.

“Right…I’m sorry Viktor. We aren’t hiring at this time.” The factory foreman runs his hand through greasy strands. “Maybe try the docks.” Viktor already has. He’s tried everywhere he can think of, which is why he’s sitting in this cramped office begging for a job to begin with.

“They aren’t looking to hire someone like me,” he says, clutching his cane subconsciously.

“Well, maybe try the cannery. Our Baron has put a hold on hiring until this business with Topside is settled. Plus, you aren’t exactly the first kid to come in here with a sob story looking for work.” He looks Viktor up and down for a second time. “You get injured in the accident?” he asks, pointing to Viktor’s cane.

“No, birth defect.”

“Huh, you really do have bad luck then.”

“I’m good with machines,” Viktor pleads, reaching for anything, “And I’m a really quick learner. I’ve studied at the Academy and…”

“Save it. We aren’t hiring.” Viktor's mouth snaps shut. He stands stiffly and takes his leave.

As he re-emerges outside, he sees the factory smokestack is billowing again. Liar, he thinks, you just didn’t want to hire me. But if the factories are starting production again, that must mean that the rumors are true. The borders are opening.

Muscles cramping, he sinks down to sit at the stoop, resting his chin on his knees. Around him, the sick and injured line up for a chance to be seen by one of the overworked sawbones in the temporary clinics that have been hastily erected. Trash is littered the ground while small children scavenge through trash cans and dumpsters for extra scraps of food or for anything that they could potentially try to sell for cog. One alley was getting quite the reputation as the place to drown sorrows with illegally strong drinks and shady chemicals that promised forgetfulness. While the threat of violence wasn’t an unheard of fear, Viktor had been the subject of it more times than he could count growing up in the slums as he did, the promise of it now thrummed in the air. Fuses were short and fists were quick.

He watches helplessly as a street preacher is jeered at by a crowd and a bottle is cracked over his head. While he didn’t have much use for their message, it still hurt to see someone come to harm in such a violent manner. The children rush over to the man’s unconscious form and start picking through his pockets.

It was pain that caused people to hurt each other like this. The pain of debilitating injuries, the loss of employment or loved ones, hunger, thirst. If Viktor could take it all away from people he would. 

A man with a mangled arm approaches a sawbone, who can only shake her head as she turns him away. The man sits down next to Viktor and produces a bottle from somewhere within the depths of his coat. When he notices Viktor’s eyes on him, he offers him the bottle. 

To be polite, Viktor takes a small sip. He almost spits it out. The drink, such as it was, tastes like pure alcohol. He manages to swallow, though not without choking and hands the bottle back. The man takes a long swig and wipes his mouth. The two sit in companionable silence. What the man is thinking about, Viktor has no idea. But he is carefully considering his options, or rather, lack thereof.

The harsh truth is, he’s out of things to sell. His landlord is just begging for an excuse to kick him out. Even if he could get one of these factory jobs, the salary won’t cover the cost of the rent. It took both of his parents working full time and extra jobs on the side to afford living there in the first place. That would leave him homeless. Foundling Houses were out of the question.

He sighs and the man next to him politely offers him the bottle again. Viktor gives him a quick shake of his head and the man shrugs and takes another gulping swallow. Returning to his thoughts, Viktor comes to the realization that he truly has no one here for him in Zaun. No relations, his neighbors disappeared the night of the Day of Ash, no one willing to give him a chance. But in Piltover, he had Jayce and his mother. And the Academy. His thoughts slowly form into two paths, though they ultimately lead to the same conclusion.

All his life, his dream has been to help others. To take the gifts that were given to him and transform them into a way to give back. The Academy had been helping him make that dream a reality. The resources that he had access to, the great minds he was able to connect with, even the projects he had been able to start all promised a greater reach for him in the future. Afterwards, he could come back to Zaun and actually make a difference. He stares at the man’s arm beside him, already dreaming of the kind prosthetic that would allow the man the use of his limb again. 

Then there was the baser, more primal reason for returning to Piltover. Survival. 

Regular meals, and a safe place to sleep were both promised to him if he returned. And then there was Jayce and his mom. The thought of reuniting with Jayce again had never truly left his mind, even when he tried to tamp it down along with his other emotions. Jayce would be there for him. Understand him in a way no one else did. He needed that balm more than he liked to admit to himself. 

The only thing that held him back from racing to the border right now was the sense that he was betraying his people. Who was he to escape while the rest of Zaun remained here suffering? And running to their very oppressors no less. 

His heart hurts when thinks of leaving his parents’ bodies behind, and he can’t look anyone in the eyes when he thinks about his daydreams of full meals in Piltover. A voice within him, that sounds suspiciously like Jayce, reprimands him sharply. Your noble dreams aren’t going to help you if you starve to death on the streets. As if to punctuate the point, his stomach growls. Shakily, he pulls himself to his feet. The man raises his bottle to him in salute as Viktor turns to go. He waves back, sure now what he must do.

There isn’t much left in the flat. No furniture. No little touches that made it home. It was just a place now. An empty place that can no longer sustain a life. 

Viktor rolls the quilt that he’s been sleeping under as tightly as he can and stuffs it into his satchel. He takes his father’s pocket watch and slips it into his pocket. The final item he has left is the book of fairytales. While he had been able to part with every other book, the thought of selling the only family heirloom that he possessed had been too much to bear. Even though it may have sold for a good price, for him, it was worth more than any amount of gold. He gently tucks it into his satchel as well, then he locks the door behind him. On his way down, he turns the key in his hands. Once he gives it up, there will be no turning back. He slides it under the landlord’s office door and leaves without a second glance.

***

Rather than immediately going straight to the border, Viktor turns and heads towards the mine. He hasn’t been there since that awful spring day, but he can’t leave without one final goodbye. 

The mine has been completely abandoned. Viktor picks his way through the ruins with care. There is a kind of silence here that begs to not be disturbed. A sort of aching fills Viktor’s chest as he gets to where the entrance once was. Against all odds, little yellow flowers have started to bloom. He crouches down and strokes one of the soft petals in awe. He wasn’t aware that field roses were capable of growing this far underground. But here they were. Reverently, he plucks three of them and ties their stems together. He places them at the entrance, a final farewell and monument to the family they once were. Adjusting the strap of his satchel he turns and leaves.

The journey to the bridge is agonizing. In addition to his inner turmoil, his body seems to be fighting him every step of the way. It feels like he’s breathing through a straw, unable to take in a full breath. His leg also gives him trouble, dragging and causing him to stumble more than once. Still, he persists. He just focuses on moving until finally, just as the sun is starting to set, the bridge looms into view. 

He stops in front of it, heart suddenly in his throat. He trembles, waiting for the sounds of gunshots or the quake of a fire bomb. Nothing happens. A line of men and women is starting to form, clearly waiting for the border to open as well. Cautiously, Viktor joins them. At a snail’s pace, the line creeps ever forward as people start to pass the checkpoint. With alarm, Viktor notices that some people are returning, turned away for what reason, he couldn’t guess. He startles when an enforcer barks at him.

“Make sure you have your papers ready when you get to the checkpoint. Don’t hold up the line.”

Viktor’s hands start to shake. He doesn’t have papers. He’s never had papers. He’s next in line and feeling completely boxed in. The woman in front of him is turned away harshly and then it’s him who’s being ushered to the front. Trembling, he stands nervously in front of the stern faced enforcer.

“Papers,” he demands, holding out his hand. Viktor’s trembling only worsens. Perhaps it was a mercy that he hasn’t had anything to eat today, or he would have surely thrown it up.

“Eh, I don’t have any papers–” he begins to say when the enforcer interrupts him.

“Speak up kid, my hearing isn’t what it used to be.” The enforcer sits forward and Viktor wishes to shrink into the ground. 

“Ahem,” he tries again a little louder, “I don’t have any papers.”

“Then get out of line. Next!” The enforcer waves a hand to call over the next person in line. Viktor isn’t sure what, other than desperation, gave him the courage to stand his ground.

“Please sir,” he begs, “I’m an Academy student. I have to get over, I have–” for the second time that night Viktor is interrupted. 

“Vik! Viktor!” A voice he’d been missing like a caged bird misses flight. He leans and looks around the enforcer and stands stunned. 

There, just across the border, gold meets amber. Jayce looks more radiant than Viktor even believed possible. 

“Jayce…” he breathes, afraid that this vision will vanish in front of his eyes. When Jayce continues to remain corporeal, he calls out louder, “Jayce, what are you doing here?” Another enforcer he hadn’t even noticed grabs his arm in a bruising grip, ready to escort him away. 

Jayce rushes over to where the first enforcer is still sneering at him. He starts speaking rapidly to the guard but Viktor’s mind can’t keep up. All he can do is stand dumbly and drink Jayce in with his eyes. Then he’s being ushered over the border. His legs, already unsteady, give way entirely and he falls forward only to be caught by Jayce. 

“Come on,” Jayce says softly in his ear, “Let’s get you home.” Viktor tightens his grip.

“Yes,” he gasps, “Let’s go home.”

Chapter Text

Chapter Eight

The Aftermath

Viktor feels so light and thin in his arms that Jayce could cry. 

“Shh...It’s ok, I’ve got you now. We’ll be home soon. That’s right, we’ll be there just as soon as we get over this next hill.”

He murmurs this and many other such nothings against Viktor’s warm skin. In return, Viktor only nods weakly, looking up at him with shining eyes. They’re too bright. Glassy. Seeing them makes his breath catch in his lungs and has his heart thudding out of his chest.

Fever, he thinks as he quickens his steps as much as he can, being careful as always of Viktor’s leg. His mom will know what to do. She has to.

As the they make their way up the wide streets, the lamp posts start to flicker on one by one, bathing the world in golden hues as the last rays of the sun slip away. The two boys dodge carriages and the crowds of men and women coming home from their various occupations. A few shout at them to get out of the way when they can’t maneuver fast enough. 

“Sorry,” he shouts back distractedly every time it happens, which becomes more frequent as Viktor’s strength begins to flag. More and more of his weight is being propped up by Jayce alone.  

At long last, the house comes into view. Rosy lights shining from the windows and onto the front garden with a welcoming glow. Jayce could cry from relief. Viktor is growing ever more slack in his arms and he all but drags him across the threshold. Together, they tumble through the front door in a mess of limbs and land in a heap on the floor.

“Jayce? Jayce, mijo, is that you?” His mother's voice floats from somewhere deep within the house. For the moment, all Jayce can do is pant and hold Viktor, who has passed out, close to himself. 

As soon as he catches his breath he calls out. “Mom! I need help!” 

She arrives in a flurry of skirts, panic etched into every line on her face. When she sees the two boys in the entry hall, she goes still. Jayce sees her lips moving, though no sound escapes them. All at once, she rushes to them and lifts Viktor out of his arms with a strength Jayce didn’t know she possessed. 

“Jayce, go upstairs and run a bath. Not too hot, he has a fever. Sprinkle in the salts and oils from the cabinet above the sink.” She turns, still holding Viktor who is beginning to stir in her arms, and calls back behind her. “Martha, do you have what you need to make chicken soup?” 

Martha, who had come in from the kitchen at the sound of the commotion nods so hard that her cap nearly tumbles from her head. 

“Good,” his mother continues, “Please let me know when it is ready. In the meantime…” she marches up the stairs with a confused and slowly rousing Viktor cradled in her arms. 

Jayce stares, stunned, before he jumps to follow her orders. 

He races up after his mom and enters the bathroom. With shaky hands, he twists the faucets and sets them to a lukewarm temperature. Then he turns to the cabinet and grabs the first bottles of oils and salts that he can lay his hands on. He isn’t sure how much to use, so he dumps in large amounts of each, watching with fascination as the salt grains sink to the bottom while the oils swirl across the surface of the water. Clumsily, he stirs the mixture with his hand and nearly falls into the water when his mom slams open the door.

Viktor is upright now, still looking a bit dazed but aware of his surroundings at least. He tries to smile at Jayce, but it comes out a bit lopsided and looks more like a grimace. Jayce finds himself mirroring his expression as the encouraging smile he tries to give in return morphs into a frown as he gets a closer look at his friend.

He’s so gaunt. His cheeks have been completely hollowed out, making him look older than his sixteen years. His eyes appear huge in his thin face and hold within them a weariness that they never contained before. And in the few months they've been apart, Jayce has outpaced him in height in an alarming way. Just looking at him makes Jayce want to either cry or hit something. 

Instead, he pulls out a fresh towel from the linen closet and places it within reach of the tub, along with Viktor's cane which he had grabbed from downstairs, as his mom swoops away again.

"Um, if you need anything, just give a shout. Oh, and if you need to adjust the water temperature, this one is hot and this one is cold." He tries to smile but it just slides off his face as he watches Viktor carefully crouch by the tub. He dangles his hand about the water, fingers barely breaking the surface.

Jayce tries to give Viktor another reassuring smile as he backs out of the bathroom. As soon as the door is shut, his mind begins to panic, sure that somehow this will all have been a dream and Viktor will have vanished again. He almost barges back in but the faint splashing he hears from Viktor entering the bath is just enough proof for him to descend the steps in search of his mom. 

He finds her in the kitchen with Martha. They are speaking together in low tones and stop immediately when he enters. 

“How’s Viktor?” his mom asks gently as he approaches and wraps his arms around her. 

“He’s in the bath now. But I don’t know if he’s ok. He’s so–” his voice catches. His mother gives him a tight squeeze. He feels like a little kid again, running to his mom whenever the littlest thing went wrong. 

“He’ll be alright,” Martha adds with a bit of forced cheer. “All he needs is a little of my famous chicken soup and he’ll be set to rights.” She stirs the pot in front of her for emphasis. Martha’s chicken soup had been the family cure all for as long she had been in his family’s employ.  Expertly, she adds some finely chopped vegetables and herbs with a practiced hand.

His mother rubs his shoulder comfortingly as she disentangles herself from his arms. 

“I’m going to put fresh sheets on the bed. Go check on him and make sure there isn’t anything else that he needs.” He follows her out of the kitchen. Back upstairs, he swings by his room and grabs an old pair of pajamas that were just beginning to become too short for him. Then he knocks at the bathroom door. He hears sloshing and the unmistakable gurgle of water circling the drain. Cautiously, he opens the door and finds Viktor wrapping a towel modestly around his waist. He looks considerably better, color has entered his face again and he seems relaxed. Rivulets of water snake their way down his neck and chest from his wet hair. 

Jayce swallows dryly and averts his eyes.

“I brought some things for you to wear. And the soup should be ready soon.” He hands Viktor the clothes awkwardly. Viktor stares at them for a second and then begins to drop the towel to get changed. 

“Gods, Viktor! At least let me shut the door first!” Jayce cries, shielding his eyes. He slams the door shut, praying that his mom didn’t see anything.

That’s when he hears it.

A soft laugh from Viktor, so quiet and fragile that one could be forgiven for not hearing it at all. But Jayce does hear it and the sound of it alone makes him want to wrap Viktor up in his arms and protect him and that laugh forever. 

“I forgot how prudish Piltovans are about nudity,” Viktor says softly. “You can take your hands off your eyes, I’m decent now.” Jayce does so, though still rather hesitantly.

The sleepwear is too baggy on Viktor, but he decides in that instant that maroon is definitely Viktor’s color. Clean and in fresh clothes, Viktor is starting to look more like himself again. It brings Jayce relief when he sees Viktor smile softly at him again. He’d been so afraid that after everything, Viktor would have been unable to smile ever again. 

***

Jayce’s mother let Viktor eat in the bedroom rather than the dining room. At his first sip of broth, Viktor’s eyes widen and begin to fill with un-shed tears. The spoon becomes a silver blur before Jayce’s mom puts a gentle hand over his to remind him to eat slowly. He slows down and even manages to get through most of a second bowl along with some bread.

"Jayce, I need you to take these dishes downstairs and wash them." Jayce starts from where he was sitting next to Viktor, toweling off his still damp hair.

"Why do I have to do that? Martha can do them. Or Helene can do them in the morning."

"Jayce…" Her tone leaves no room for argument, "Please do as you're told." Jayce wants to protest. They'd only just got Viktor back and he wanted to spend as much time with him as possible. He still wasn't quite convinced that this wasn't just a dream that he would soon wake from. Grumbling the entire time, Jayce stomps down the stairs, leaving Viktor and his mother alone together in his room.

Once downstairs, he trudges over to the kitchen and starts filling the sink. Martha is nowhere to be seen. Likely, she is already halfway to her own home. He does the kind of wash job that his mother is definitely going to make him redo in the morning, giving the dishes more of a rinse than a scrub. But he can't help it. He feels like he's going to break in two unless he gets gets back upstairs. Drying his hands quickly he darts up the stairs and down the hallway. His steps slow as he hears the low, earnest voice of his mom emanating from the room.

At the doorway to his bedroom, he pauses. Viktor is sitting up in bed with an unfamiliar blanket wrapped around his shoulders. It's clearly been made by Viktor's mother, even he can recognize her handiwork by this point. Red and yellow flowers are quilted into a delicate pattern on a green and white background. It's beautiful. And its presence does not bode well. Sitting next to Viktor is his mom, holding both his hands in hers while she continues to murmur something to him emphatically. Viktor gives a choked sound that could either be a laugh or a sob, Jayce isn’t sure. He remains frozen, a silent sentry at the doorframe.

From his post, he watches on as his mom wraps her arms around his best friend, who hugs her tightly in return. He feels as though he wasn't supposed to witness this moment of vulnerability, but before he can back out of the room unnoticed, Viktor looks up at him. As their eyes meet, Viktor gives him a watery smile and holds his hand out in invitation. Before he's even realized he's moved, Jayce crosses the room and launches himself at his mom and Viktor, holding them tight. For a moment that feels like an eternity, the three of them stay like this. A cocoon of safety.

It's with reluctance that Jayce finally pulls back. As soon as he does so, Viktor scrubs at his face harshly with his sleeve. The expression he gives Jayce once he finally pulls his arm away is completely blank. As though he’s trying very hard not to wipe all the emotion from his face. Jayce's brows furrow at the sight of it. It’s completely wrong. Before he can say anything his mom shifts on the bed and then rises.

“Well, I think that’s all for now,” she says softly. “I’ll take my leave of you two boys, but I’m just down the hall if you need anything. Don’t be afraid to ask for anything.” 

The last sentence is pointed at Viktor, who nods and whispers, “I will.” His mom gives them both a gentle smile, taking each of their hands and giving them a squeeze. 

She stops short at the doorway as though she just remembered something.

“Oh, Viktor,” she asks, “Is there anything you’d like to have for breakfast in the morning?” Viktor looks down and begins picking at his nails. 

“Um, are griddle cakes too much trouble?” 

“No trouble at all,” his mom smiles. “Goodnight you two. And Jayce,” he looks up as she says it, “Behave yourself.”

“What!?” Jayce sputters, “What did I do?!” She gives him a look before turning to go, leaving the door open a crack. Still grumbling, Jayce gets up and closes the door fully with more force than was necessary. 

From the bed, Viktor begins, “Thank you for letting me stay here tonight–” but Jayce talks over him.

“You don’t have to pretend in front of me,” he blurts out. Viktor stares at him, eyes wide. He clears his throat and tries again. “What I mean is, you don’t have to put on a brave face in front of me and my mom. I don’t…I don’t know everything that happened. And you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to. But you’re safe here.”

“Thank you, Jayce. I…that means a great deal to me,” he says finally. Then, after another long pause,"They're dead."

Jayce knew as much but hearing it spoken out loud stuns him. He can only sit in silence, clenching his fists, as Viktor continues. "It was an accident. You know how dangerous mining can be. Gunpowder. Explosive gasses. No ventilation. It could have happened at any time. But what was worse was the bridge." Viktor gets a far away look in his eyes as he says it, as though he's left Jayce entirely. "So much senseless pain and death. I only saw the aftermath and even that…" his voice trails off.

"I'm so sorry. You shouldn't have had to go through that alone. You should never have had to go through that alone." Jayce takes hold of Viktor's hand tenderly. The same hand that years ago, he'd brandished a knife against to join their blood together. Jayce runs his thumb across the thin scar that runs across Viktor's palm. His own matching scar aches like it did before, when it guided his steps to the bridge. He can feel Viktor's eyes on him, even as he keeps his own trained on their entwined hands.

"Would magic have helped?" It slips out. Jayce wants to slap himself. He hadn't meant to ask the question out loud. Rather than finding it trivial, Viktor considers it carefully.

"Hm, I suppose it wouldn't have hurt. Anything would have been better than firing on us." The last part comes out as a shuddery whisper. He wraps the blanket more snuggly around his shoulders with trembling fingers. Jayce can't stop himself. He pulls Viktor tightly to himself, crushing their bodies together. As though he could tuck him under his ribs and keep him safe. Viktor's still damp hair tickles his nose and he buries his face in it. It smells like the bath oils and something else underneath it. Earthy but clean, like a forest after a rain storm.

"I promise, you'll never have to go through anything like that ever again. I promise you."

Viktor's muffled voice says something indistinguishable from where his head is smooshed against Jayce's chest. Reluctantly, Jayce loosens his hold and Viktor tries again.

"You can't promise things like that, Jayce. You can't control the future," he says, voice soft.

"I promise," Jayce says determinedly. "And promise me that you'll always come to me when you need help. You don't have to carry everything by yourself. You don't have to be alone."

Viktor's gaze lowers. "I promise to try," he breathes, barely above a whisper.

For a moment they stay just like that. Jayce adjusts their positions so that he can rest his head on Viktor's chest and listen to his heartbeat. The steady thrum of it calms his mind and he feels the tension that his body has been hanging onto since Viktor first left seeping away. Fingers feather light, Viktor brushes Jayce's hair away from his face. Sighing in contentment, he leans into the touch. He feels himself growing drowsy. With great reluctance, he rouses and pulls the covers over himself and Viktor.

Next to him, Viktor stiffens. “What are you doing?” He hisses, cheeks turning a deep shade of pink.

“I’m going to sleep, what does it look like?”

“In the same bed?!”

“Yeah, why not?” Jayce shrugs. “Oh, I guess I do need to change out of these clothes.” He pulls his shirt off over his head while Viktor stares at him open mouthed. When he stands to slide his pants off, Viktor throws the blanket over his head. “Oh, so who’s the prude now?” Jayce teases with a grin. Crossing the room in only his underthings, he grabs his own set of pajamas which are an exact copy of the ones that Viktor wears but in blue, and throws them on. 

From the bed Viktor is sputtering. “The contexts are completely different, Jayce. You can’t just start undressing while laying next to someone in bed? What would your mother say if she walked in on you?”

“She’d probably tell me to not throw my dirty clothes on the floor,” Jayce answers, doing exactly that as he crosses back and crawls under the covers once again. “I can sleep on the floor if it’s really going to make you uncomfortable though,” he says after a little consideration. Viktor looks at him, clearly conflicted. He can practically hear the argument going on behind his eyes. Finally he slides down to lie next to Jayce.

“No, I don’t want you to sleep on the floor. Just give me a warning next time, please.”

Jayce grins again. Reaching over he turns out the lamp and darkness floods the room. 

The unreality of the situation hits as soon as he lays back down. He’s lying in bed next to his best friend who, until a few hours ago, he wasn’t even sure was still alive. He feels the bed dip and shift as Viktor tries to make himself comfortable in the tiny space. After a while, the movement stops and Jayce can hear Viktor’s breathing slowly evening out. Turning on his side, he finds himself unexpectedly nose to nose with Viktor.

As his eyes adjust to the dark, he takes in Viktor’s sleeping form. His skin seems to almost glow in the moonlight peeking in through the window. If he squints, he can just make out the small mole that sits above Viktor’s lip. His hair is splayed over the pillow, looking longer and more wild than Jayce has ever seen it. He has the urge to reach out and run his fingers through those tangled locks, but he resists. Instead he gently feels Viktor's forehead and is relieved to find that the fever has not returned.

With a sigh, he turns over on his back and stares at the ceiling. Little glow-in-the-dark stars are faintly illuminated above them. Years ago, he and his mom had painted them onto the ceiling. He'd gotten the idea from a little magazine that he used to collect which sold star stickers. The magazine had mostly focused on magic, which was why he was interested in it to begin with, but also had sections on astronomy and astrology.

The astrology he could do without. It seemed clear to him that it was all vague nothing. But he loved the stars. If magic hadn’t shown him the beauty of the world, he thought that the existence of the stars alone would have sufficed. 

So he had begged for the little star stickers and his mom, probably hoping that indulging a different hobby would lessen his obsession with magic, had come up with the idea of painting the stars on themselves.

Looking back on it, it was probably much cheaper to buy little cans of paints locally than it was to order overpriced stickers from a shady magazine. Money had been so tight in those days, though his mom had tried her best to hide it from him.

So, armed with little paint brushes, his mom had hefted him onto her shoulders and, giggling and laughing the whole time, he messily recreated his favorite constellations. It had been one of the first times he remembered his mom laughing since his dad had died.

He smiles up at them now, then nearly jumps out of his skin when Viktor whispers, “What are you thinking about?”

“Gods, Viktor! I thought you were asleep.” He turns and finds Viktor staring up at him in his owlish way. His eyes seem to almost glow, just like the little stars. Beautiful, he thinks, not sure if he’s referring to the stars or Viktor’s eyes. “I was thinking about the stars. And magic. How beautiful they are, and how horrible this world is.”

Viktor turns onto his back as well and looks up at the little painted stars. “The world is terrible. And unfair. But there is always a choice. To perpetuate pain or to continue to find the beauty. The kindness.” The words are spoken softly, but they scare Jayce a little.

“Have you made your choice?” He’s afraid of the answer. He feels Viktor’s gaze on him as he considers the question. “You don’t have to talk about it, if you don’t want to.”

“I’m not sure,” is all he says. He continues looking at him until Jayce squirms under the weight of it.

He reaches out his hand and finds Viktor's again. For a while, neither of them say anything. One could be forgiven for thinking that they had each fallen asleep again. Eventually, Viktor speaks again.

"I think," he says slowly, "That as soon as I can, I want to help. I want to be part of the beauty of the world."

"I'll help you," Jayce adds immediately. "We'll make the world better, together."

Viktor gives his hand a squeeze. Jayce can feel the exact moment that sleep overtakes his friend and his hand goes slack in his own.

Jayce continues holding tightly for a little longer, before he too falls into a deep and dreamless sleep.

***

They wake in a tangle of limbs and strange aches from sleeping so cramped together. His mom gives them the courtesy of knocking once on the door before barging in.

“I hope you slept well, Viktor,” she says with a warm smile. Viktor nods as he pulls his blanket over his shoulders again. “The griddle cakes are almost ready, but you’re welcome to keep resting here as long as you need to. Jayce," she turns to him sharply, "You need to come down and re-wash the dishes. I’m not making Martha or Helene clean up after you.” She crosses the room and kneels in front of the dresser. After rummaging around for a bit she pulls out some of Jayce's old shirts and trousers. “Here you go Viktor, I think these will fit well enough for now. Later today, if you’re feeling up to it, we can go to the shops and get you some new clothes.”

“Thank you, Ximena. That sounds lovely,” Viktor replies as he takes the proffered clothing. She leaves to allow them to change in privacy. Once again, Jayce’s old clothes are a bit baggy on Viktor but a couple of cinches of a belt and he’s quite presentable. 

Downstairs, a veritable feast awaits them. Huge stacks of griddle cakes smothered in butter and nearly buried under fresh berries and whipped cream along with fresh soft boiled eggs and thick cut bacon line the dining table. Viktor’s eyes are as large as saucers as he sits in front of one of the towering stacks as Martha waltzes in and pours summerberry syrup over the tops of them.

Jayce thinks that Martha is overdoing it a bit, but he’s certainly not one to complain about extra food.

Viktor is only able to make it through about two and a half griddle cakes before he starts to look a little ill from overeating. He tries to apologize to Martha who just shushes him. 

“Don’t worry about it, dearie,” Martha says kindly, “I’ll pack them up for you so nothing’ll go to waste.”

It makes Jayce feel a bit bad about his huge half eaten stack of griddle cakes. He's already downed two eggs and more than his share of the bacon as well. Conflicted, he debates whether finishing his plate or asking for his food to be packed would make Viktor feel more comfortable. It's Martha who makes the decision for him.

"Don't worry, I'll pack yours for you as well," she says with a wink. "That way neither of you will have anything to worry about." He smiles at her gratefully. Viktor looks relieved as well as Martha takes his plate from him.

Afterwards, they go the shopping district.

The walk there was pleasant. Summer’s tight hold was just beginning to slip though the day still promised to be quite warm. Jayce’s mom walked primly ahead of the boys, nodding her head in greeting to passersby and familiar shopkeepers.

Jayce, meanwhile, was becoming aware of the raised eyebrows and second looks that Viktor received as they walked side by side. It was incomprehensible to him that merely walking with a cane could produce such a reaction. He glares with equal intensity back at those they pass until they look away in shame or embarrassment. If Viktor is bothered by the staring, he gives no indication of it. He just keeps his head down and stays close to Jayce. 

The first shop they arrive at is the tailor’s. The sharp faced shop boy nearly trips over himself to open the door for Jayce and his mom, before reluctantly letting Viktor in as well with a questioning look.

“Mrs. Talis, what a lovely surprise,” Gwen, the head tailor, says as she glides around the counter. “I wasn't expecting to see you again so soon. I do hope the last batch of clothes is still holding up well for you. It can be tricky keeping up with a growing boy.” She pinches Jayce’s cheek playfully and it takes all his will power to just smile politely instead of pushing her hand away from his face. His mom laughs lightly, though Jayce can tell it’s a bit forced.

“Yes, yes. Your work is immaculate as always. Actually, I'm here to order some things for Viktor here.” She nudges Viktor forward from where he’s been examining the reams of fabric that line the walls from floor to ceiling. “As you can see, he’s in need of some new things.”

“Ah yes, I do see,” Gwen tuts as she circles around Viktor. He curls in on himself, shrinking under her gaze.

Jayce frowns.

Before, Viktor would never have tried to make himself appear so small. While he wasn’t exactly the kind of person to try to steal the spotlight, he had always been sure of himself. He's itching to say something but he clenches his fists instead.

Gwen is still circling Viktor with her tape measure, pulling on limbs and nudging him to stand taller. The sharp faced shop boy follows behind her, mimicking her every move. Jayce isn't sure if he's just her apprentice or her son as well. Once she has the measurements she needs, she walks behind the counter and starts jotting down notes on a paper pad. The shop boy continues circling Viktor, still standing stiffly, clearly uncomfortable. He has that distant look in his eyes again. As if he is somewhere else far away.

“And what were you thinking of having made for the boy?” Gwen asks his mom as finishes her notes with a flourish.

“Just the basics. Some trousers, shirts, and some jackets and coats for the coming weather.” She turns to Viktor, “Is there anything in particular that you’d like, my dear?”

Viktor comes to with a shrug and shake of his head. “I trust your judgment,” is all he says.

“Then we’ll start with those things first,” his mom says as she turns back to Gwen, who is nodding along as she adds to her note taking.

“Good, good. Any color preferences?” She looks at Viktor as she says it.

“Eh, no ma’am. I will defer to Mrs. Talis’ judgment.” He can barely maintain eye contact as he says it. Instead they dart all around the room, lingering on a sewing machine sitting in the corner. His breathing getting more ragged the longer he looks at it.

Jayce can’t stand it anymore.

“Mom, if the tailor has what she needs, can we go out and look around a bit on our own?” he asks, his voice a bit too loud for the small shop. His mom and Gwen exchange looks and his mom turns to him with a nod.

“Alright, but don’t go too far. I’ll still need the two of you around for other things.”

“Thanks mom! We won’t go far, I promise. Come on V, I want to show you the emporium.” Before he's even finished speaking, Viktor is escaping the room without a glance back. Jayce stops to give his mom a hug before leaving and whispers in her ear, “Viktor likes vests, and he looks good in maroon.” He gives her a knowing look, then he joins Viktor outside, grateful to leave the stuffy shop behind him.

Outside, Viktor is standing on the street corner, leaning heavily on his cane.

“Sorry about that," Jayce says as he walks over to join his friend, "But I didn’t think you were having a great time anyway.”

“No,” Viktor replies softly, “But she’s a good seamstress. Excellent at her craft, I can tell.” Jayce doesn’t have anything to add to that. Or at least, not anything that wouldn't sound shallow. So instead he places his hand on Viktor's shoulder and gives it a light squeeze.

“Let’s go to the emporium. They always have the coolest stuff.”

The emporium is really just what they call the open air market that is set up in the center of Piltover, only about a block away from the tailor's shop. Just about anything can be found there and Jayce is itching to look for anything that could be useful to him for Hextech. By now, he's exhausted all the library resources and he's no closer to actually being able to harness magic. Or even summon it for that matter.

The emporium’s atmosphere is electric. Bustling crowds fill the streets as merchants hawk their wares.

"…Genuine Ionian silks! Best prices in all of Piltover!"

"…Rare fruits from Ixtal! Only found here!"

"…Get your Noxian spirits here! Straight from Noxus!"

The cacophony eventually starts to become little more than background noise. Then there are warring scents. Food stalls, ladies perfumes and gentleman's cologne, and of course the very human smell of sweat mingle together. It isn't exactly pleasant, but it is as much a part of the emporium experience as the noise.

As they pass food stalls and Jayce is pleased to see that the Undercity stalls are back. He can't wait to bring Viktor to one on their way back and give him a taste of home. But there's one stall in particular that Jayce is excited for. His feet quicken with excitement as it comes into view. Crystals of various sizes and colors gleam in rows across the table, along with whole shelves of books on magic and the arcane. When they arrive, Viktor begins to study the crystals curiously while Jayce starts flipping through the books. 

Much to his disappointment, most of them were about as useful as the library books had been. Shallow and more interested in telling tall tales about mages than explaining the more practical elements of magic. The salesman watches him intensely as he tosses yet another book down in frustration.

“Looking for anything in particular?” the man says in a wheedling tone as he comes to stand next to Jayce. “That book you just had in your hands is one of my best sellers.”

“Yeah, I’m looking for more of a ‘how-to’ guide or maybe even a comprehensive history of the arcane. These,” he drops another useless book on the pile, “Are not exactly as rigorous as I had in mind.”

“I see…You’re quite discerning, I can tell.” Jayce preens at the praise and stands a little taller. “I don’t normally pull these books out, but for a true magic scholar such as yourself…” The seller disappears behind his booth for a moment, then emerges with an ancient looking tome in his arms. “I traded a pure Shurimian crystal for this years ago, but I didn’t want to give it away to just any old customer." He looks around conspiratorially and leans uncomfortably close to Jayce, "This should only be used by those who are serious about magic.” He whirls back and places the book down carefully in front of Jayce, whose eyes must be as large as dinner plates as he reaches out a hand.

“May I?” he asks, to which the seller nods in approval. With trembling fingers, he carefully opens the front cover and flips through the first couple of pages.

Already, he can tell this book is different. There are charts explaining the different magical properties of rune stones and what elements could be added to them to enhance or dampen their strength. His eyes are drawn to detailed reports on the different types of magic, from healing, to domination, to teleportation. Somehow, his eyes grow even wider as he flips a few more pages and sees that there are illustrated figures that show the movements mages use to channel their magic into spells. His fingers ghost over a drawing that is reminiscent of the way the mage that saved him used to transport him and his mother across so many miles. He simply must have this book.

“How much is it?” he breathes as the seller snatches the book back to his side of the counter.

“Hmm, let me see…” he gives Jayce a once over, eyes lingering over his new boots and tailored clothes. “For you, I could bear to part with it for 500 gold cogs.”

Jayce’s jaw drops. There was absolutely no way that he would be able to afford 500 cogs. It would take years for him to save up that kind of money. He doubts that even Caitlyn Kiramman would have that kind of money lying around.

"That’s a ripoff,” Viktor says coolly from where he’s been standing, watching the two of them quietly. Both Jayce and the salesman turn to him in shock as he comes to stand next to Jayce. “Mm,” Viktor looks the book over scornfully. “It isn’t in the best condition. Is this fire damage?” He points to a charred corner of the cover. “The binding is loose as well. I’m sorry, but my friend and I cannot consider it for such a price when it is practically falling apart.” He grabs Jayce's arm and turns as if to go. In shock, Jayce starts to follow but the salesman grabs his other arm.

“Now see here,” the seller blusters. “This book is exceedingly rare and I had to go to great lengths to even sneak it past border control.”

“Ah, so it’s an illegal book. I suppose it would be a shame if my friend and I were to report to the authorities that there was an illegal tradesman here in Piltover. I don’t think they take contraband lightly here,” Viktor sniffs disdainfully. “Come, Jayce. I believe we passed an enforcer station not too far from here…” 

“Viktor! What are you do–” Jayce hisses before Viktor clamps his hand over his mouth. The salesman is starting to sweat as he watches Viktor start to drag Jayce away.

“Alright, alright. You drive a hard bargain but I could lower the price to 200 gold cogs if you don’t tell the authorities about this.” The two boys continue walking.

“Viktor,” Jayce whispers desperately in his ear, “What on Runeterra are you doing?”

“Trust me, Jayce.” Viktor gives him a grin. The first real one that Jayce has seen him give. “If you want that book, just trust me.” 

They barely make it more than two steps before the man stops them again.

“Fine,” he hisses. “I can give it to you for 100 cogs. That’s as low as I can go.” 

“Mm,” Viktor hums and narrows his eyes.

“90…75…50 that’s a steal.”

Jayce squeezes Viktor's hand tightly. At 50 cogs, he'd have just enough from his saved allowance to cover the cost.

“Fine, I think that we can be persuaded to forget where we got this book from for that price,” Viktor says. Jayce digs into his coin purse and hands over the money eagerly. The man snatches it and practically throws the book at him.

As they walk away from the still sweating salesman he turns to Viktor in wonder.

“How did you do that?” he exclaims, hugging the book tightly to his chest. Viktor shrugged, though he was clearly pleased with himself.

"It was just basic bargaining. An Undercity toddler could have talked that man down to such a price.”

"You're amazing," he breathes. Viktor gives him a shy smile.

“Would you mind if I took a closer look at it?” he asks. Jayce hands him the book and Viktor thumbs the pages. “It probably is worth about 1,000 cogs. This book has to be at least 300 years old.” Reverently, he hands it back to Jayce who holds it all the more carefully. "Think of it as a late birthday present."

Jayce's fingers tighten their hold. With everything that had happened over the summer, his birthday had been a quiet, muted affair. He hadn't exactly felt like celebrating. The fact that Viktor not only remembered it, but had wanted to make sure he had this, touched him in a way no other present ever had. Then came the guilt.

“But now I don’t have any money left to buy you anything. I wanted to get you something while we were here.”

“You did?” Viktor sounds shocked.

“Of course! I was hoping to get you something from one of the food stalls. There’s supposed to be one that sells Undercity style food and–” Viktor suddenly grabs Jayce’s hand very hard.

“Thank you, Jayce. That means so much to me.”

“But I didn’t even get you anything.”

“The thought alone is enough for me.”

Jayce finds that hard to believe. And it only strengthens the guilty feeling within him. He vows to himself that once he gets Hextech to work, he'll make it up to Viktor.

They explore the rest of the emporium after that, admiring the different little inventions that they find. Viktor is particularly taken with a phonograph while Jayce finds himself drawn to a machine that is supposed to be able to predict the weather accurately up to two weeks in advance. And both boys are drawn to the life sized robotic golems that are on display.

“Those were the highlight of Progress Day this year,” Jayce says to Viktor as they draw closer for a better look.

“They remind me of Blitzcrank,” Viktor replies, rather wistfully. “ Shame that we could never get him to work right.”

“Whatever happened to Blitzy anyway? Do you still have him?”

“I’m sorry, Jayce,” Viktor says sadly, “But I gave him away. I had to give all our inventions away. But I think the kids who took them will really enjoy them.”

Jayce could picture it perfectly. Other little kids playing with the boats and cars that the two of them had made. It made him a little sad to think about Viktor having to give them up though when he already didn’t have much to begin with.

They spot Jayce’s mom looking for them in the crowd. She doesn't mention anything about the new book and neither Jayce nor Viktor volunteer any information. The three of them stick close together as they complete their errands. They go to the cobbler to get Viktor some new, and matching, boots then go to the markets to that Viktor can pick out things he likes to eat. She even buys them some shaved ice as a treat, which Jayce and Viktor eat as quickly as they can before they melt, lapping up the sweetened syrup from the bottoms of their paper cups.

Back home, Jayce makes sure Viktor is comfortable downstairs with his mom before he races to his room to find his journal. He flips through the pages until he lands on a blank one. With a hand shaking from excitement, he begins taking notes.

***

The last week of summer break passes in a flash. Viktor slots into the Talis family so naturally, that it was hard to remember what life was like before he arrived.

They do everything in twos now. They eat together, go out together, sleep together. Though at Viktor's insistence, he has a separate little cot in his own little corner of Jayce's bedroom. On it is his blanket, folded neatly, while an old book in a language Jayce can't read is propped on top. Next to the book is a gorgeous, though broken, pocket watch.

Jayce understands.

He too, has made shrines for a deceased parent. One whose memory still hangs over his head when he's at the forge, or when he's being reminded that he has to live up to the family name.

Now, as the two boys walk up the last hill to the Academy, Jayce can't help but feel a sort of anxious buzz at the thought of being separated, even for a few hours at a time.

"Are you sure you're ready to go back, V? It hasn't really been that long and you've only just started to get your strength back…"

"I want to, Jayce. Besides, I need to address this," he brandishes the letter from Heimerdinger. "He's instructed me to see him first thing. It must be important."

Jayce bites his tongue and they continue. The rays of the sun just barely peeking over the towers above. Song birds fill the air with their war cries. Warbles, fluttery notes, and delicate melodies each trying to out do each other. They take the steps up to the front gate slowly. Viktor winces a bit with each step, pausing every time to catch his breath. It sets Jayce's teeth on edge.

Once they are finally inside, they head towards the faculty tower where Heimerdinger's office sits on the top floor. With a deep sigh, Viktor grabs his cane in one hand and the railing in the other and starts up the stairs. On each floor, the boys take a break, allowing Viktor to rest his leg.

Jayce inwardly rejoices when the huge oak door of Heimerdinger's office comes into view.

With a shaky hand, Viktor raps at the door and steps back to await a response. For a moment, neither of them move a muscle. Then…

"Please, enter!" comes Heimerdinger's cheerful voice. With a final look, Viktor slips inside and Jayce is left alone in the hallway to stew in his own nervousness.

It seems to take hours.

Jayce has already paced the halls at least a dozen times and has watched the sun completely rise through the enormous windows that line either side of the hallway. Glancing for the hundredth time at the clock he realizes he's already missed the start of his first class of the day. Fortunately for him, it was only mechanical engineering, a class that Jayce could probably pass in his sleep. So that doesn't bother him. What does bother him is how long Viktor and Heimerdinger have been talking. He has no idea what they could possibly be discussing for this long.

Heimerdinger had told him that he and Viktor weren't in trouble, but what if that had just been a clever ruse to lure them in so that they wouldn't expect the punishment that was in store.

He chews on a painful hangnail and paces again.

When the door finally opens again, Heimerdinger is guiding Viktor, who is now carrying an alarming amount of papers in his arms, out with a bright smile.

"Don't hesitate to let me know if you have any questions," he pats Viktor's arm affectionately, "I look forward to working with you. Ah, Mr. Talis. It is good to see you again."

Jayce nearly trips on his own feet in his eagerness to greet them at the door.

"Yes, it's good to see you too, Professor," he manages to say politely before turning to Viktor worriedly. "What's going on? Is everything ok?"

"Yes," it's Viktor who answers. "Everything is going quite 'ok'. Come, the professor is very busy. I'll explain more to you in a moment."

"Take care, boys!" Heimerdinger calls, then retreats back inside his office.

As soon as the door swings shut, Viktor's shoulders sag with relief. He grins at Jayce.

"I guess introductions are in order."

"What?" Jayce is still confused.

"You're now looking at the new Assistant to the Dean of the Academy."

***

Everything happens quickly after that. Jayce gives up on going to classes entirely. It's the first day back so it will just be syllabuses and introductions anyway.

Instead, he follows Viktor to his new dorm room which he now has as part of the benefits of being the new assistant. The room is tiny, but Viktor stares at it as if he can't believe it all belongs to him now.

"This is bigger than my apartment at home," he whispers to Jayce. It makes Jayce give the room a more thorough examination. A tiny kitchenette in one corner with a small bed in the other. The only other furniture is a worn out desk and empty bookshelf. There isn't even a bathroom. Those are down the hall. The old windows do have a beautiful view of the streets below however. This room could be charming if given a bit of care.

Tears cling to Viktor's lashes as he takes everything in, though they never fall. Jayce doesn't say anything about it. Just places his hand on Viktor's shoulder and gives it a small squeeze. He turns his attention back to the contract that Viktor had been given by Heimerdinger.

"This is quite the list of duties…" he says, flipping through the stack. "Mandatory meetings, minute taking, facilitating student and professor relationships, all student affairs, assisting in Council duties," his jaw drops. "Maintaining a perfect grade point average," he goes on, "Plus being expected to conduct an independent study on top of regular course work? At least you get a stipend," he adds after flipping through a few more pages.

"Wait…" he turns back to make sure he's understanding what he just read correctly, "Heimerdinger is your official sponsor now?!" Viktor nods from where he's collapsed on the bed.

"I have an official schedule now too. No more sneaking into classes." Jayce goes to join him on the bed.

"How do you feel about all of this?" He asks the question carefully. Viktor doesn't answer right away. He plays with the handle of his cane, running his fingers over the padded leather and picking at a few loose threads. Jayce makes a mental note to work on an upgrade the next time he's at the forge.

Then softly, "It isn't fair. Why couldn't this have happened sooner?"

Neither of them say anything after that. Jayce throws an arm over Viktor's trembling shoulders and prays that it's enough.

***

Of course Jayce moves in with Viktor before the week is up.

The Kirammans are able to pull some strings and allow Jayce to move in earlier than the rules allow. And it's a good thing he does. Viktor's new duties keep him so busy that even while living together, there are days where they hardly see each other outside of their shared classes.

As for his own classes, he gets by. But he finds that most of his energy is spent on Hextech, which is an exercise in frustration. For every breakthrough or revelation he has, another wall is thrown up in his path.

His journal notes reflect his frustrations.

~ If the book is to be believed, which I think it can be, there are two distinct forms of magic: innate magic that comes from within an individual who has been touched by the Arcane before birth and external magic that is stored within various items. These items can either be crafted by those who possess innate magic, such as staffs or runestones. Or they are items that naturally have magical properties on their own. The most common are crystals from the Shurima deserts or the jungles of Ionia which mages have historically carved runes into to imbue them to enhance their magical abilities. My best bet will be to use these crystals as the basis of Hextech but how to find them…

~ Jayce Talis

P. S. Viktor has seemed tense lately, remember to grab him something sweet from the cafeteria to cheer him up

He remembers that the sweets did cheer Viktor up and the two spent a wonderful evening star gazing on the roof of the library. A month later came the next breakthrough.

~I managed to convince mom to go to the emporium for me since I'm not sure my presence will be appreciated at the stall since Viktor's little bargaining stunt. She brought me the crystals I requested and as I feared, they are too impure to contain anything more than traces of magic. But the fact that I was able to detect any magic from them at all has to count for something. As soon as I can, I will send in an application for the study abroad program to Shurima. Mom won't like it, but I need to go to the source. Also Ren is at the Academy now. Darius is being a real pain about it.

~Jayce Talis

Much to his disappointment, the study abroad programs are only for graduate students. In the meantime, he takes a few geology courses as electives.

The situation with Ren and Darius becomes more complicated. He couldn't understand why Darius was acting like such a jerk. Ren was studying chemistry and they didn't even share any classes together. Until one night when Ren suggests that they study together. Jayce agrees though he doesn't understand how it would benefit either of them since they study different things. He brought Viktor along with him which only made the situation more tense.

It only made sense when they were walking Ren home and she asked if they could go ahead, just the two of them. Reluctantly leaving Viktor behind, Jayce escorts her to the front steps of her house. Without warning, she leaned forward and gave him a peck on the lips. Turning bright pink, she raced inside leaving Jayce stunned. He supposes that he really should have seen it coming, but he was never good at reading people other than his mom and Viktor.

He and Ren start going out together. And it's fun. Ren is beautiful and smart and they suit each other well.

But something is missing. He just can't put his finger on it.

He knows well enough not to ask Darius about it but Viktor is also no help. He gets quiet whenever the topic of Jayce's girlfriend comes up and when he does talk, he's snippy and short.

It's Ren who breaks up with him.

"It's not you," she says, though even Jayce knows that's a cliche. "It's me. Really. I think I rushed us into this before we'd let our friendship really blossom."

"Yeah…" is all he can say in reply.

"So, let's just be friends. Are you alright?" she asks worriedly.

"Yeah, let's just be friends."

He was surprised by how much it hurt. When he came back to their room, he expected Viktor to gloat or make some quip about how he knew that it would have never worked out. Instead, Viktor just holds him, lets him cry into his shoulder, and makes him a truly awful cup of tea. And then it's like nothing ever happened and they go back to being normal with each other.

Another month flies by and then…

~My first real success! Even though the crystals from the shop only contain traces of magic, by carving runes into what I've been calling the Hextech Crystal Stabilizer and Conduit or HCSC for short (patent pending) I was able to produce magic! I have included a sketch of the device below. However, the magic proved to be too powerful even in trace amounts and it blew up in my face. It nearly took my eye out. Viktor and mom were very concerned. I told them it was from an accident at the forge but I don't think they believed me. I will have to figure out how to dampen the output so this doesn't happen again. Cait thought the new scar looked cool though, she did laugh when she said it. I have to have tea with her mom to discuss the end of the semester. I am NOT looking forward to it. But it will be good to hang out with Cait again so soon.

~Jayce Talis

And just like that, the year was almost over and they were waiting for Viktor to arrive home for a surprise birthday party.

It wouldn't be that much of a party, just Jayce, his mom, Martha and Helene would be there, but Jayce was still proud of setting it all up for Viktor. There was cake, a small pile of presents, and warm mugs of sweetmilk. All that was missing was Viktor himself.

Jayce waits with bated breath. His mind races with a thousand worst case scenarios that could be causing Viktor to be late. Piltover rarely got cold enough for snow, but occasionally conditions allowed for icy weather. He wipes his sweaty hands on his trousers for the hundredth time. They will be wrinkled soon if he keeps this up.

Then the door creaks open.

"Surprise!" Everyone shouts in unison. From the doorway, a now very pink Viktor pokes his nose into his scarf. Jayce races over and holds Viktor’s cane for him while he shrugs off his heavy overcoat.

"You did not have to do all this for me," he says as he finally gets the coat off. He's looking at the hand painted little birthday banner that Jayce has proudly displayed over the mantle.

"Of course I did! Now come on, the sweetmilk is getting cold." He hangs Viktor's coat up on the rack for him as his mom holds out a steaming mug in welcome.

Still bright pink, Viktor hesitantly sits in one of the high backed chairs while Helene hands him a slice of cake and Martha starts handing him presents. They'd already celebrated the Solstice a week before, but Jayce had insisted that they have a separate party for Viktor's birthday.

One by one, he opens the little gifts in front of him. Bonbons from Martha. Hand knitted mittens from Helene, in House Talis colors of course. His mom has gifted him a clever little puzzle box which Viktor love, of course. Jayce watches nervously as Viktor gets to his present. It's the largest by far and Jayce hopes that Viktor will like it.

Viktor's hands go still as the last of the wrapping paper falls away. He's holding a replica of the boat that had brought the two of them together. The materials are nicer, and the paint job is definitely better now than it was when they were kids, but it's the same paddle boat design.

"I know you said you had to give our inventions away, and I get that, but I thought… I know it's not the same, but I remembered the design and oof—" He's cut off by Viktor wrapping him in a crushing hug.

"It's perfect. Thank you," he says and Jayce melts into his embrace.

Chapter Text

Chapter Nine

Ideation

Jayce hops off the gangway and onto the dock with relief. Life at sea, he decides, is not all that it's cracked up to be. The constant threat of storms, terrible rations, and cramped sleeping arrangements left much to be desired. He wishes, not for the last time, that he had splurged and taken an airship. But alas, that would have had to come out of his own pockets. The Academy only provided the most basic travel accommodations. At least it was better than the weeks he'd spent in the blistering sun in the deserts of Shurima. Albeit just barely. He'd thought the heat of the forge was bad, but it was nothing compared to the endless, unrelenting sun of the desert. The only reprieve had been the freezing cold nights, which he had felt sharply huddled under a mountain of blankets in his tent. It had only been a four week study which he had been required to have a professor as a lead and chaperone, but it had been worth every scorching second.

It takes a moment for him to get his bearings again. The dock seems to sway under his feet and he lurches forward gracelessly. It takes him a few tries before he's able to walk normally again. While the crew start to unload the cargo hold, he sees ahead of him a crowd waiting to greet the other disembarking passengers. He strains his eyes for familiar faces.

Finally, he spots them.

"Mom!" he calls out. "Mom! Over here!"

She turns, her eyes already welling with tears. She's dressed in her finest, the way she dresses when she wants to impress the people around her.

"Clothes are a shield. Your father taught me that," she used to tell him as she would straighten his school tie or clean his boots. "If you look like you belong, people will accept you." He had taken her lesson to heart, even if it never seemed to work out as well for him as it did for her.

The deep blue, maroon, and gold of House Talis is proudly displayed in her skirts, waist coat and jacket. She's exchanged her usual pearl earring for small gold hoops that match the gold of her prosthetic fingers. They were the ones he had made her for special occasions. A cap adorned with blue and red flowers completes the look.

Next to her is Caitlyn, who has somehow grown even taller in the past few months since he last saw her. She turns at the sound of his voice, face breaking into a huge grin. They all race towards each other and Jayce scoops them both up in his arms.

"Oh, mijo. Why did you have to go all the way to Shurima? Look at you," she pinches his cheeks, "Practically skin and bones. I knew this would happen if you left."

"I missed you too, mom," he says, giving her a kiss to the top of her head. "And hey, Sprout! If I'm not careful, soon you'll be taller than me," he chuckles at his own joke and attempts to ruffle her hair. She deftly avoids it with a laugh. "What are you wearing? I know for a fact you didn't pick that out yourself." She groans and tugs self consciously at the lacy frills on her puffy white sleeves.

"Mother thought it best to be dressed 'befitting my station'," she says, disdain dripping from the words. She stands on tiptoe and pulls him down to whisper in his ear, "If you think this one is bad, you should have seen the first one she picked. It was pink."

He laughs loudly. "I think you'd look fetching in pink, Sprout," he teases as she wrinkles her nose at him.

He strains his neck to look past Caitlyn and his mom, hoping to see the person he's missed the most.

"Where's Viktor?" he asks finally. He has a feeling he already knows the answer but a part of him is still pretending that his friend is just running late.

Caitlyn glances down, while his mother starts to wring her hands. She rubs her fingers the way she does when she's about to deliver bad news.

It's Caitlyn who breaks the silence. "I'm so sorry Jayce. I'm sure he wanted to be here, but there's a mandatory Council meeting today. They're voting on adding a new member, and I heard from Mother that Heimerdinger needed him to take over his duties at the Academy."

"I see," he says flatly. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed. He'd hoped that his friend would be there to greet him at the very least. He tries to swallow the hurt as they join the line to pick up his luggage. He gives Caitlyn his numbered ticket and lets her run up ahead to find his trunks among the mountainous stack forming on the dock.

"Won't you be coming home for dinner tonight? Martha has made all your favorites for you," his mom queries, a slight tremor in her voice. She knows what he's going to say.

Jayce can't bear to look his mom in the eyes. He'd been dreading this question since he had made up his mind about it on the boat. "I really can't. I promised Viktor I would spend some time with him when I got back and I have some things I want to get done at the lab…" He doesn't need to see her face to know how much he's pained her. She wrings her hands, her fingers making a clicking noise every few seconds.

"It's about that isn't it?" she jabs at the runestone hanging around his neck. "That's why you went on this trip. You never come home anymore. You just spend all your time in the lab." He opens his mouth to respond but she cuts him off. "Don't try to deny it. I wish you'd never found that thing."

"We'd be dead without this, thing, as you call it," he hisses, trying not to raise his voice and cause a scene. "Magic saved our lives," he says, softer. "What's wrong with trying to bring that to the rest of the world?"

"Because you're obsessed with it," she snaps back at him. "The Ferros clan wanted to make you an apprenta. The Ferros clan. They've practically kept the Talis forge afloat all these years and what did you say?"

He turns away from her sharply, clenching his hands behind his back. They've had this argument before. "I want to make a name for myself. I don't want to be some puppet for another clan or house. Bringing glory to their names but not my own. Is that so wrong?"

"It is if you're ruining your life chasing a pipe dream."

Jayce opens his mouth to say more, to argue his case yet again, but he sees that Caitlyn is excitedly waving them over to what must be his trunks. His jaw snaps shut and he tries to plaster on a cheery smile as he escorts his mom over to where Caitlyn is bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet.

"It was tricky, but I found them," she beams, clearly pleased with herself.

"You did good, Sprout," he responds with a cheer he doesn't feel. He's barely been back in Piltover for an hour and already everything is going sideways.

***

The carriage ride back to the Academy is tense. Cassandra Kiramman had been so kind as to lend him the use of one of their fleet of carriages to help him get back to the Academy. Though Jayce is secretly sure that she only did so because Caitlyn insisted on tagging along. He isn't exactly the star pupil that he once was.

He insists on packing the trunks in the back of the carriage himself, not trusting the coachman to be gentle enough with them. Inside, his mom sits in stony silence which she doesn't break when he joins her. Neither of them say anything as the carriage moves out. Caitlyn, perhaps to fill the silence, chatters about her upcoming classes at the fancy private school she will be attending in the autumn.

Jayce attempts to listen to her, he really does. But there is a buzzing in his head, as though a hive of bees has decided to take up residence in his brain. He stares out the window as the scenery becomes a blur. Piltover morphs into a water color stain as the carriage whisks smoothly through the streets.

At his mother's request, they drop her off near the town square. Before she leaves the carriage, she reaches out a hand and gives his face a gentle caress. It's as much of an apology as he's going to get. Then they're gliding away again up towards the Academy.

They arrive with little in the way of fanfare. Hopping out first, he remembers his manners enough to help Caitlyn down before racing the coachman to get to his luggage before he can. The apartment building is just outside of the Academy Square. It was really much too nice for two broke Academy students, but having two powerful sponsors certainly had its perks. He hefts the trunk under his arm up for what feels like the hundredth time as he climbs the steps to the top floor flat that he shares with Viktor. Standing in the corridor, he fumbles with his keys while Caitlyn waits patiently behind him, her arms also filled with boxes. The key gets stuck in the lock and he has to rattle the doorknob to get it to come back out.

"Does it always do that?" Caitlyn asks innocently. Grunting with annoyance, he kicks the door open with more force than was necessary. He doesn't bother to answer her question as he stumbles inside, cursing under his breath the entire time.

The layout of the flat was unusually open, one great room in the center with a kitchen in one corner and the facilities in the other. A couple of side rooms have been turned into makeshift private studies, though they usually just do their work wherever they happen to be.

They've roughly divided the open space into two using a partition. In Viktor’s half, his bed was pushed up against one of the large windows and was neatly made. The quilt he had brought from the Undercity was gently draped on the end of the bed and on his nightstand was the pocket watch and the book of, what Jayce now knew to be, Undercity fairy tales.

Past the bed was a different story entirely. Viktor's desk was covered in papers and dog eared books. Diagrams were pinned to the walls, and his blackboard was filled with sketches of mechanical arms, legs, and nervous systems. The only neat stack of papers was the work he was doing for Heimerdinger. He had been the Dean’s assistant for the past four years now, a job in which he had thrived. In addition to being the assistant he was also student teaching the biochemistry class and completing his doctorate in advanced biomechanical robotics and engineering. Viktor made it seem effortless.

In comparison, Jayce felt like he was drowning. His review last semester had been less than stellar and he only had one more chance to resubmit a final thesis project for his mechanical engineering doctorate before he would be dropped from the program entirely. But that was something he could worry about later. For right now, he focuses on getting moved back in.

Viktor had kept Jayce’s half of the flat exactly as he had left it— that is to say a massive mess.

His books were scattered all over the place. His bed was a crumpled, unmade mess and his desk was completely buried under his notes, books, and scattered drafts of abandoned projects. He wouldn't be surprised if he found half eaten plates of food under the pillows. If Viktor's side was organized chaos, his was just the chaos of a disordered mind.

Only the balcony was spared this treatment. It was his and Viktor’s sacred place. When Jayce stepped out on it, he thought that if he stared hard enough he could almost see the little enclave where he and Viktor had played together as children. Whenever either of them needed to think, they would go out to the balcony, share a bottle of wine, and just ruminate.

Many a breakthrough had been had in the wee hours of the morning on that balcony.

He drops the trunk he had been carrying and dumps a pile of books onto his desk as Caitlyn comes in behind him with the boxes still balanced in her arms. 

“Where should I put these?” she asks, gesturing with the boxes causing them to nearly topple to the floor.

“Ah! Careful with those!” He snatches a hat box out of the air right as it begins to tumble and places it gently on the desk. “You can just leave the boxes on the bed for now. I’ll go through them later,” he directs her to his bed. Mentally, he tallies the number of boxes and trunks, making sure the most important one is still completely intact.

“Ahem, well. Thanks for your help today, Sprout,” he says with a manufactured smile, clapping her on the shoulder. “Since there’s nothing else to do but unpack, I’ll let you go on your way.” 

“Are you sure?” Caitlyn looks around the room, taking in all the boxes and clutter.

It’s at this moment that Viktor bursts through the door with a giant stack of books and papers in his arms fully blocking his vision and his cane neatly tucked in the crook of his elbow. He nearly crashes into the two of them, only able to dodge at the last second. Stumbling across the room, he tosses the pile onto his desk.

He stands panting for a second while Jayce and Caitlyn remain rooted to the ground in shock.

"Jayce," he gasps, after he's caught his breath. And then he pulls Jayce into a tight hug. For the first time since he arrived back in Piltover, the angry buzzing of his mind stills. He deepens the hug, crushing Viktor to his chest.

"It's so good to have you back," Viktor says, voice full of an emotion that Jayce can't quite place. "I thought for sure you'd be spending your first night back in the Talis abode."

"I promised to spend the first night back with you, remember? Besides, I have a lot of work to do now that I'm back."

Viktor beams at him. "I hadn't forgotten. I just thought…well…" he trails off, then turns with perfect politeness to Caitlyn, hand outstretched.

“Good afternoon, you must be Caitlyn Kiramman,” he says smoothly, as if he hadn’t almost bowled them over seconds before. Cait takes his hand warmly. "Jayce has told me so much about how your family has helped him through the years."

“And you must be the esteemed Viktor. Jayce never shuts up about you,” she elbows Jayce while she says this. 

He rubs the affected arm as he says, “Well, it’s good to see the two of you finally getting a chance to meet.”  

“Ah, but where are my manners; would you like a cup of tea, Miss Kiramman?” Viktor gestures to a dusty corner of the kitchen where a slightly rusty kettle sits surrounded by packs of cheap tea and Academy branded mugs.

Caitlyn looks a little alarmed at the state of the kettle, but graciously accepts. The three stand awkwardly in the cramped dining space, making small talk about their various studies, while sipping on frankly terrible cups of tea.

"And what do you plan to do with your life," Viktor asks, taking another sip of tea.

"Well," Caitlyn begins shyly. "It's always been a dream of mine to become an enforcer."

Viktor tries to turn the tea he sputters into a cough but Jayce notices immediately and gives him a sharp look. Viktor stares back at him placidly, dabbing his chin with a handkerchief and an unearned sense of dignity.

"That's a real shame," he says finally. "You seem like too bright of a girl to be an enforcer."

"That's what my mother says too," Caitlyn swirls her cup of tea, watching the tea leaves sink to the bottom. "But I want to be able to help people. Protect the innocent and catch the bad guys. Make a difference, you know?"

"Indeed," Viktor intones. "Well, here's to hoping that against all previous evidence to the contrary about good apples and changing systems from the inside, that you will be the exception." He drains his cup. Caitlyn gives Jayce a questioning look, to which he can only shrug. While he can understand to a point where Viktor is coming from, he hasn't forgotten about the Day of Ash anymore than Viktor has, he doesn't agree with him about all enforcers being corrupt and prejudiced against people from the Undercity. They've agreed to disagree on this point for now.

When Caitlyn finishes her cup, Viktor offers her another, as if to prove to Jayce that he is still capable of being polite to a would-be enforcer. 

“That’s quite alright, Viktor. I was actually just leaving. I wouldn’t want to keep you and Jayce away from your important work any longer,” she gives Jayce a smile. 

“I’ll accompany you,” Jayce says quickly, reaching for the door. Once they are in the hall, Cait gives him a look. 

“Well, you two seem like a good match. I see why you like him. He also has a bit of the ‘mad scientist’ thing going on,” she grins up at him. Jayce just shrugs.

“Yeah, I suppose you’re right about that.”

Once they’re on the street he walks her to her private carriage and makes sure she gets in. “Thanks for your help today. See you around, Sprout!” She smiles and waves goodbye as the carriage merges into traffic.

Jayce sighs and drags his hand over his face, he has a lot of work to do when he gets back to their room.

***

When he gets back to the room, Viktor has made himself and Jayce another cup of tea. He takes the steaming mug from Viktor's outstretched hand and wishes, not for the last time, that he and Viktor could afford to splurge on better tea. But it's not like they, as broke Academy students, had the extra funds for fancy tea just lying around. Viktor has almost drained his own cup and is putting on the kettle for yet another cup before Jayce has gotten more than two sips in. Then he goes back to his desk and begins organizing his stacks of notes and paperwork into tidy piles.

"Mm, Jayce," he begins as he lets his latest cup of tea steep. "We should go out and celebrate your return properly."

Jayce feels his cheeks growing warm. "I'd love that, V. I just want to settle back in and get some things done first." Viktor nods and returns to his own work.

Jayce sighs in contentment and takes another sip of tea. He's glad to be back.

Slowly, at a truly glacial pace, he unpacks his trunks and suitcases from his time abroad. First he takes out the little souvenirs he had brought home for everyone. Some crystals for his mom and Caitlyn and some books for Ren. For Darius, a bottle of Shuriman liquor. He also carefully unpacks a traditional mandolin that he had picked up along his travels. Despite practicing every day since he had first bought it, he was still terrible at playing. He couldn't wait to drive Vik crazy with it.

He grins wickedly at the thought.

Then he comes to the bottom of the trunks. He had agonized over what to bring back for Viktor. Nothing had seemed quite special enough for his best friend. He had finally settled on a little paperweight made out of amber. At night, he had found that looking at it for a while helped him to fall asleep. He gently unwinds the paper wrapping it up and holds it to the light. It was the perfect shade. He places it to the side to give to Viktor at the most opportune time.

Some of the clothing he had put away had rained grains of sand down onto the floor and grit crunches beneath his boots every time he walks by. It's starting to drive him crazy. He distracts himself by turning to the most important trunk. He had carefully wrapped it in paper and sealed it with wax so that he could be sure that no one tampered with it. It hadn't been.

After checking to make sure that Viktor was absorbed in his own work — he is, humming softly to himself and playing absently with a lock of his hair — he carefully breaks the seal and unlocks the intricate latches. He takes a deep breath. Then he lifts the lid.

From a secret compartment at the bottom of the trunk, he removes a small case and enters in the padlock code. With a snap it opens. Three shiny rows of perfect Shurima crystals glimmer up at him, bathing him in a soft blue light. As if in a trance, he reaches out and grazes one of the gems with his finger. He can feel the hum of his runestone from around his neck responding to the magic concealed within them. He comes to with a shake of his head and snaps the case closed. Checking again to make sure Viktor didn't see, he slides the gems under his bed.

Furtively, he pulls out his journal and updates his notes then tucks it back in its hiding place. He checks once again to see if Viktor has noticed. He has not. Viktor's nose is still buried in his books, completely absorbed by whatever he's reading. It's only then, reluctantly, that Jayce begins working on the project that his trip to Shurima was ostensibly for.

After around an hour of half-hearted drafting, he turns to ask Viktor a question and finds him asleep at his desk.

He pauses. It’s a surprisingly vulnerable moment. Jayce stands and, quietly as he can, walks over to his friend’s bed. He picks up the undercity quilt and drapes it carefully over Viktor’s shoulders, stopping to take a look at his sleeping face. Viktor looks so young in his sleep. Closer to fifteen than to twenty.

He knows he should tiptoe away before Viktor wakes up to see him hovering over him, but he doesn't. Instead, he brushes some stray locks of hair out of Viktor's face. In the dimming light, Viktor's pale skin is almost translucent. It makes the mole above his lip seem even darker by comparison. Under the collar of his shirt a few more moles peak out. Absently, Jayce wonders just how many moles dot Viktor’s body underneath his clothes where he can’t see. He abruptly ends that train of thought. Training his eyes back to Viktor's face, he notices with alarm how prominent his eye bags are getting. He tucks the blanket a little more snuggly around his friend’s shoulders. Clearly, he needs the rest. 

Sneaking back to his side of the room, he slides his journal back out. Under normal circumstances, he can’t continue his experiments while Viktor is still in the room with him. But while he sleeps, he can at least go over his equations one more time.

Returning to his desk he opens to the page of formulae that he’s now gone over at least a thousand times. Flipping on his desk lamp, he leans over the pages and squints at the cramped writing. He's going to figure this out tonight. He just knows it.

The world falls away. He no longer hears the ticking of the clock. In fact, he has no idea how much time has passed at all. He chews through his pen in thought, nearly spilling ink all over his notes. Without looking up, he reaches for another. He's so close to figuring this out. Suddenly, he senses a presence behind him. He whirls around to find Viktor leaning over his shoulder.

Jayce jumps up in alarm so forcefully that he almost knocks Viktor over. Laying a steadying hand on his friend's elbow, he only just barely keeps them both upright.

“What was that you were working on?” Viktor asks as soon as he’s steady on his feet again.

“Oh, it was nothing, V. Just an independent study I’ve been working on in my spare time.” Jayce can't quite look him in the eye.

Viktor gives him a sharp, questioning look, but doesn’t say anything. He just shrugs and pulls the blanket he’s still wearing tighter around his shoulders.

“Um, what time is it anyway?” Jayce asks, stretching his aching muscles. He really needs to stop hunching over his work. 

Viktor glances at his pocket watch, “Just past 9 bells. I'm afraid we've missed the dinner reservation I made.”

"You made dinner reservations?" Jayce is stunned on two fronts. First, that he had been working on Hextech for almost five hours without realizing it and second, that Viktor had made a reservation.

Viktor showed his kindness in small ways. A word of encouragement. Or quiet reassurance. Sometimes he'd help with a project. He didn't make dinner reservations.

"It was supposed to be a surprise. Falling asleep wasn't a part of the plan…"

“Let’s go see if that food cart you like is still open," Jayce suggests in a rush. He's determined to salvage the night somehow. "Besides, I could use some fresh air.”

Viktor nods in agreement, reaching for his light evening jacket and his cane. Jayce grabs his own coat, his favorite bomber jacket, and tucks the paperweight into the breast pocket. Viktor's about to open the door to the hallway when Jayce stops him.

“What about your knee brace?" Viktor rolls his eyes at him. Jayce continues on, "The doctor said you should be wearing it if you plan on going for long walks.”

With a groan, Viktor turns around and snatches it from where it’s been laying on the floor near his bed.

“I really hate this thing and you know it. It's not even my knee that is the real source of the issue,” he grumbles, fighting with the buckles. With a jerk, he gets it open and roughly shoves his leg in. 

He’s still grumbling when Jayce kneels down in front of him and says, “Here, let me help you with it.” Curiously, Jayce watches on as red slowly creeps up Viktor's face, starting from his neck and ending at the tips of his ears. He wrenches his leg roughly from Jayce's grasp.

“If you really want to help, I have some drafts of better designs," Viktor mutters as he does up the straps himself. "Maybe you could have someone at your family’s forge work on them for me." Jayce makes a mental note to get started on that. Feeling awkward, he gets back on his feet and opens the door for Viktor with a flourish.

***

The cool air helps clear his head as he and Viktor make their way out of the Academy Quarter and into the sprawling Mid Town streets.

For a while they walk in companionable silence. Jayce relishes the quiet in his mind. Maybe he should listen to him mom about taking more breaks. He feels great in this moment. Beside him, Viktor seems to be deep in thought as well. He allows Viktor to set the pace of the walk, since as soon as they'd left the building, Viktor had doubled over with a fit of coughing.

"Are you alright?" Jayce had asked, full of concern but Viktor just waved him off.

"Perfectly fine," he'd croaked. "It's just from the cold air."

The air wasn't even that cold, but Jayce bites his tongue and soon he's forgotten about the whole incident. Before they know it, they're chatting as though they'd never spent a day apart.

“And Professor Heimerdinger has been of no help," Viktor complains as they make their way up the last set of steps to Midtown's center square. "He keeps telling me to revise again and resubmit. I’ve revised it ten times, Jayce. How is an eleventh revision going to help?"

They shuffle into the food line. Jayce turns up the collar of bomber jacket, maybe it's a bit colder than he first realized after all. Beside him, Viktor continues his tirade. "I’ve already done everything that they’ve asked me to. The technology works! I think they either don’t like the proposal, or they just don’t like me,” he grumbles.

Jayce nods along sympathetically. If he wants to have any hope of keeping his sponsorship from the Kiramman’s, he’s going to have to really sit down and focus on his own thesis project. He plays with the leather cord under his shirt where the little runestone hangs around his neck. The stone seems to thrum in response.

Viktor orders some kind of fish stew, which comes out looking a bit radioactive. Viktor slurps it down with a happy hum while Jayce orders a sandwich which he prays will be edible. It was surprisingly good.

"What do you mean, 'surprisingly good'?" Viktor asks in mock offense. "I'll have you know, that Jericho's food stall is legendary in the Undercity."

"I said it was good," Jayce laughs back. They take a seat at the edge of the fountain to allow Viktor to rest for a bit. They feed their leftover scraps to a small clowder of stray cats. One of them, a little grey kitten, even allows them to almost pet it. Though it always leaps away before either of their hands can get too close. Not quite ready to return, he gets Viktor a warm sweetmilk while he orders a hot tea. They walk side by side for a bit, gossiping.

“And don’t even get me started on Dmitri,” Jayce complains between sips of too hot tea. “He thinks he’s so great after his thesis project also won the Distinguished Innovators Competition. What's so great about mechanical butterflies anyway.”

Viktor raises an eyebrow as he cradles his drink. Dmitri is a familiar topic. Especially after he beat Jayce two years in a row for both the Innovators Competition and being top of the class. 

“I’d like to know how they are scoring these contests, your entry was actually innovative, if a bit…unpredictable,” Viktor takes a sip of his own drink and grimaces slightly. "Piltovans cannot wrap their heads around the idea that there is more to sweetmilk than anise."

“It was, wasn’t it,” Jayce preens a bit, ignoring Viktor's complaint about sweetmilk.

His entry had been a new air ship design, which had wound up being a bit too powerful. The engine had nearly exploded and a loose gear had almost taken out one of the judge's eyes. It had been a complete disaster, but the judges concluded that the design held promise and he was eventually awarded an honorable mention but his failure had still stung.

On this sour thought, he continues, “But then, I suppose innovation is less important than an actually working prototype. I just wish I could get it to work!” he explodes, crumpling his empty paper cup in his fist. At this point Jayce isn’t sure if he’s ranting about his rejected project or Hextech. 

“I did think Dmitri's butterflies were quite nice, though,” Viktor says softly as he takes another sip.

Jayce sputters. "Don't tell me you're taking his side!? Please V, you can't do this to me." He leans dramatically against a lamp post, clutching at his chest as Viktor snickers quietly.

“Did I tell you he gave me one of them after the competition?" Viktor muses, ignoring Jayce's gasp of betrayal. "I took it apart immediately. It was quite a clever little thing. Though your submission was much more ambitious."

"Those stupid butterflies are going to haunt me."

"Perhaps," Viktor's voice is rich with amusement. "The butterflies themselves are not what is innovative. It's the technology used to make them." He drains the last drops of his sweetmilk and continues, "I was able to implement some of the mechanics into my prototype and I have to admit, it has made a difference. If you get too focused on the minutia, you can miss the bigger picture."

Jayce just scoffs.

Circling back to the fountain, they rest once again on its edge and gaze up at the moon and stars.

“You know, I never get tired of looking at them,” Viktor whispers.

“Looking at what?” Jayce asks, voice low.

“The stars. You can’t really see them in the Undercity. Especially not at the level I lived at,” he quietly intones.

The admission makes Jayce take a closer look. Staring up at the familiar constellations he couldn't imagine a world where he wasn’t able to even see them. He feels almost guilty for taking it for granted. Though he must have known this had to be true on some level, he's never considered what that would actually feel like. To know the stars are there, yet unable to even catch a glimpse of them.

Soon, however, his eyes drift back to Viktor. He's looking a bit better than he did earlier. His cheeks have a little more color in them and he's smiling hard enough that Jayce can see his slight cross bite. The dark circles are still present, but not as prominent. His amber eyes are shining brightly in moonlight as he points out his favorite constellations to him.

Jayce leans back and lets his words wash over him. Viktor's voice is low and soft, still accented even after his years of living in Piltover. It's so comforting and familiar that Jayce feels his eyes grow heavy. He's on the verge of nodding off when he feels Viktor start to pull himself to his feet. He laughs softly at Jayce’s sleepy face and holds out a hand to help him up.

"Wait," Jayce stops Viktor from pulling him to his feet. "I wanted to give you something." Viktor watches on, the amusement painting his face shifts into something unreadable as Jayce reaches into his pocket. He slides the little paperweight out of his pocket and holds it out to Viktor.

Delicately, Viktor takes it from Jayce's hand and holds it to the moonlight.

"It's beautiful," he whispers. "Thank you, Jayce." His eyes shine with the same glow of the amber. Inside his chest, Jayce's heart starts to speed up. He stands and tries desperately to think of something to say but his mouth has gone strangely dry. Have his hands always been this clammy? He tucks them behind his back and attempts to clear his throat.

"Shall we?" he throws his arm out in a wild gesture.

"We shall," Viktor grins, taking his arm.

Back at the apartment, they share a drinks on the balcony before Viktor regretfully informs him that he has an early meeting with Heimerdinger in the morning.

"That reminds me, did they agree on a new Council member?" Jayce swills the last of the cheap bourbon at the bottom of his glass.

"Yes, I believe they did. A young lady, originally from Noxus. I haven't had the pleasure of meeting her formally yet." He limps inside and rips the brace off and tosses it disdainfully into a far corner of the room. Then he begins to undress until he's down to his shorts and undershirt.

Jayce watches on, leaning back against the railing, horrified by the chafing and bruising the brace has left behind. No wonder he hates it. Viktor turns out the lights and Jayce can hear his breathing even out almost immediately. 

Jayce stays outside on the balcony a little longer, nursing another drink and praying that his mind will let him rest tonight.

Sleep doesn't find Jayce at all. Despite the exhaustion of his body, his mind refuses the siren call of sleep. After tossing and turning for what felt like hours, he gives in. Reaching out, he turns on his desk lamp, whirling around to see if the light has woken Viktor. He doesn't stir. Relieved, Jayce pulls out his notebook and starts working again. He's going to have a breakthrough before the end of the night. He just knows it.

The next thing he knows, Viktor is placing a cup of tea on his desk in front of him. As he wipes the drool out of the corner of his mouth, Viktor gives him a knowing look. He tries to peer at the notes that Jayce had just been using as a pillow, but Jayce snaps the book shut. Viktor raises his eyebrows in surprise and mild hurt and Jayce apologizes immediately. 

“I'm sorry, V. Just my independent study work,” he says sheepishly. “It's really not important.” Viktor doesn't look like he believes him but he changes the subject.

“I'm going to take a shower. I have my meeting with the Dean in an hour, but I was hoping we could have breakfast together beforehand.”

“Yeah, Vik. That sounds great. Let me freshen up myself and I'll meet you in the cafeteria. Usual spot?” 

“Yes, if it's available.”

“I'll make sure it is.” Viktor rolls his eyes fondly at Jayce's declaration. He picks up his shower things and his cane and leaves the room.

***

Weeks later, Jayce careens home from the lab in the dead of the night. The street lights make his eyes ache and he keeps his head down as he forces himself up the cobblestone streets. He'd spent the better part of the entire day slaving over Hextech in one of the Academy labs and all he had to show for it were new burns on his hands and half his crystals completely destroyed.

He can't understand it. He's poured over the formulae and calculations thousands of times. They all come to the same conclusion. He should in theory be able to dampen the output of the crystals and use the HCSC to harness the magic. It should work. Instead, the HCSC had melted and the crystals exploded. Honestly, he was lucky he hadn't started a fire or been killed in the blast.

He storms into the flat, not bothering to even try to be quiet for Viktor's sake. He slams the door behind him hard enough to rattle the walls and waits for Viktor to chastise him.

Nothing.

Silence permeates the room. He squeezes his hands into fists, relishing the blistering pain from his burnt flesh. The only light in the room comes from the moonlight streaming in from the windows, silvery light illuminating the clutter. Jayce stumbles around the room, kicking over stacks of books and stubbing his toes on the furniture. Cursing loudly under his breath, he waits again for Viktor to wake up and ask him what's wrong. He even goes so far as to enter Vik's half of the room, his breathing beginning to become ragged.

His friend's sleeping form never even budges. It takes all his willpower not to shake him by the shoulders and scream "Notice me! See my pain and DO something!" Instead he decides to get some fresh air. He steps out onto the balcony and tries to calm himself down.

Taking deep breaths doesn't work. Nor does counting to 100. It just makes him more agitated. He wishes he could just remove himself from his skin. Peel it off, strip by strip. Then afterwards he could remove his brain. Maybe place it in a jar for others to study, to see exactly why it didn't work right.

A drink, he thinks, a drink will help calm me down. He reaches for one of the bottles sitting on the little patio table and brings it to his lips.

It's empty.

He could have sworn that he and Viktor had just bought it a few days ago. He chucks the bottle at the wall, chest heaving as it smashes into pieces. He turns his back to it and leans over the railing, head in his hands. Below him, the streets are nearly empty. An occasional carriage rolls by, headlights illuminating the streets. If he listens closely, he can hear shouting and raucous singing from the bars a few streets away.

He stares down. A drunkard staggers below in an unsteady line. He reminds Jayce of a beetle. Specifically one that a bully of his years ago had tortured by ripping some of its legs off and laughed as it hobbled in circles. Jayce had cried, trying to rescue the little creature from its tormentors, earning himself a bloody nose in the process. He leans further over the railing. He's so high up. He's had that thought before, but the weight of that realization has never pressed down upon him more heavily.

He'd written a note once. Just a year ago. It had been addressed to Viktor, to give to his mother when he found it. It had been full of his regrets. That he hadn't lived up to the Talis name. That he was a disgrace to his father's memory, a failure of a son in every regard. That he'd never been able create magic. Never been able to share his vision with the world. And there had been an apology to Viktor, for not keeping his promise to stick together. He'd had a breakthrough with Hextech three days later and the note had been completely forgotten.

He remembers it now though. All he'd have to do is get over the railing and then… He grips the cold metal tighter under his aching hands and shifts his weight. In just a few moments, it will all be over. The runestone feels like a burning coal around his neck. Searing into his flesh. Just as he's about to try to straddle the railing, a soft, questioning voice floats from behind him.

"Jayce? What time is it?"

He whirls around, his cheeks flaming in the shame of what he had been contemplating. What he had been planning to do. Viktor stands at the doorway, rubbing one eye and blinking blearily up at him. His hair is standing on end and he's barefoot, shivering in the cool air.

"It's late, V. I'm sorry if I woke you. I know you have another meeting with the professor in the morning." He tries to keep his tone light, as though it will disguise the darkness of his previous thoughts.

Viktor yawns, then shrugs as he picks his way carefully over to stand next to Jayce. He leans heavily against the railing, resting his chin in his hand.

"What offense did the wine bottle cause you?" Viktor asks, eyebrow raised. Sheepishly, Jayce runs his hand through his hair and winces. His hands are really starting to burn now. He should really apply some ointment to them sooner rather than later.

"It…ah, was empty?" he offers lamely. Viktor scoffs but gives his shoulder a comforting bump with his own.

"So you threw it at the wall? That's not like you, Jayce."

"Yeah, I know. I was just…really frustrated about something."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No, not right now. Truth be told, I think I'm going to turn in. My hands are starting to sting a bit."

"Your hands?" Viktor gently takes one of Jayce's hands in his own. "Tch, Jayce," he scolds, "You need to take care of this. Wait here." He turns and exits the balcony. Jayce can hear him rummaging around the flat before he returns, triumphantly waving bandages and some kind of salve in his hand. "Let me see them," he commands airily and Jayce obliges. Viktor tuts and fusses over him, applying the salve with the delicateness of a surgeon and wrapping the bandages over them carefully.

"There," he says, clearly pleased with his handiwork. "You need to take better care of yourself." Jayce swallows thickly and nods. Opening and closing his hands, he tests the strength of the wrappings. Already, he can feel the cool salve easing the burning pain. Suddenly, his every limb feels heavy with exhaustion. How long had it been since he'd had a full night's rest?

In front of him, Viktor sways on his feet. He looks as drained as Jayce feels. Filled with guilt, he places a steadying hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Let's get off this balcony. I think I've had enough fresh air for the night." Viktor allows him to guide him back inside, being careful around the broken glass littering the floor.

He escorts Viktor back to his half of the room and makes sure he goes back to sleep and doesn't decide to use this as an excuse to continue working on his projects. In seconds, Viktor is back asleep. Now that he's able to get out of his own head for a moment, it worries Jayce a little. Viktor always slept like a prey animal. Able to wake up at the slightest provocation. He's going to have to have a chat with him about making sure he isn't burning the candle from both ends. Not that he's one to talk if tonight was any indication.

As he lays down in his own bed, he lets mind wander back to his experiments. If he thinks about it, this is actually the closest he's ever come to summoning magic. All he needs are some materials for a new HCSC. He falls asleep, dreaming up new improvements to his inventions.

***

Jayce wakes early. The sun is just barely peeking over Piltover's towers, bathing the morning in a rosy half-light. He lays still, trying to coax his body into a few more minutes of sleep. It's too late. Once roused, his mind begins racing over the possibilities of the day. He ticks through his day's itinerary in his head.

First he needs to go to class. His attendance has been abysmal lately and he's on his last warnings. Then he has a meeting with his thesis advisor about his prototype that he's been putting off for weeks now. Cassandra Kiramman has also written him, asking to meet up for tea. He knows it's because she's worried about his academic performance. He's gone from being one of the Academy's shining stars to…whatever he is now. The Kirammans have invested a lot of time and money into him, so it only makes sense that they would be concerned that he may be about to crash out. It wouldn't be unusual considering the graduation rate of the Academy, but Jayce was supposed to be different. They'd called him a prodigy. Now, he didn't know what he was.

He makes a mental note to delay that meeting as long as possible. At least until he has something to show for himself.

But the most pressing issue is Hextech. He only has five crystals left. And his machinery is currently half melted and hidden under his bed. He could fix it of course, but he'd need more supplies if was to implement the improvements he had designed. By now, he's emptied nearly every pawn and junk shop of the materials he would need. And there was no way he would dare show his face in one of the more reputable shops. They would ask way too many questions, not to mention the expense. The Kiramman money really only stretched as far as housing, with little left over for personal expenses. Before he can ponder this further, he hears Viktor beginning to rustle about just over the partition.

Taking that as his cue, he sits up and starts his morning preparations. Going to the bathroom sink, he splashes cold water onto his face until he feels alive again. Viktor pokes his head in.

"I have another morning meeting, but we can still meet for breakfast, yes?"

"Of course, V. Usual place?"

Viktor grins in reply and disappears to continue getting ready.

In a fresh uniform and with a hot breakfast in front of him, Jayce is slowly starting to feel like a person again. The sun is fully up now, and shining through the huge, art deco stained glass window onto the table that Jayce and Viktor claimed years ago as their own.

He sips carefully on a hot mug of coffee as he waits for Viktor to join him. Breakfast together remains one of the only constants between them right now. All too often, Jayce feels like he and Viktor are just two ships passing in the night. Between Viktor's morning meetings with Heimerdinger, the undergraduate classes he's been teaching, the labs, lectures, and assistant duties, not to mention Jayce's own busy schedule of classes, labs, and Hextech, there wasn't much time to spend together. But come morning, they can share this time with one another. It's become a crucial part of the routine. A chance to check-in on each other before life's chaos drags them apart again.

Jayce takes another sip of his coffee and jots down some class notes while he waits.

Finally, Viktor arrives. His hair still damp from the shower and a bundle of papers to grade under one arm and his paperwork for Heimerdinger under the other. In his right hand, he balances a tray of food while trying to maneuver with his cane in his left. He moves carefully, trying to avoid the larger crowds of students milling about. As he gets to the table, Jayce offers him a hand which Viktor gratefully accepts. Jayce takes the tray from him and sets it down so that he doesn't have to worry about either dropping his food or his papers. Viktor nods in thanks and starts to dig into his breakfast while marking the papers in harsh red ink. Jayce stops his own note taking to watch.

“Yeesh, remind me not to sign up for one of your classes. Are the students really that bad this year?” he asks, then takes a huge bite of his breakfast before continuing, mouth still full, “And why does the Professor make you fill out all his paperwork. I thought you would be doing more to assist him in his research. Not doing busywork.”

“Ah well, there’s actually a lot more busywork and babysitting than one would imagine when you work for the Academy,” Viktor retorts, brows furrowed as he strikes through another poor student’s answer on a test. “And as for the students this year, they aren’t all this bad. It’s just this one class has been struggling. They seem to lack focus or drive." He pauses to takes a sip of his own coffee, or as Jayce liked to call it: his milk with a hint of coffee flavor. Then he continues, "I don’t think they respect my authority on the subject, leading to stupid mistakes like this.” He flips the page so that Jayce can read it. The paper is just about soaked in red ink. Jayce glances at the sheet and sighs. He can’t fault Viktor for his heavy handed grading. If anything, Viktor is being too kind, awarding points where Jayce would have taken them away. 

“And how are your studies going, Jayce?” Viktor asks the question casually, but Jayce can hear the question beneath the question. He’s asking how Jayce is doing personally. They haven't really talked about the night on the balcony, but Viktor has been noticeably more attentive to him. He hopes Viktor just thinks he threw a bottle in anger and not anything deeper than that. He sighs. 

“Not..great? I’ve been really distracted lately,” he says, drumming his fingers against the table. Viktor watches on for a minute with a calculated look. He takes another sip of coffee. 

“Mm, your independent study?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Do you want me to take a look at–”

“No!" Jayce barks, causing both himself and Viktor to jump in their seats. The silverware rattles and Jayce puts a guilty hand over them. Then, lowering his voice, "No, sorry. It’s personal. If anything, I need your help with my coursework. The Board is supposed to review my prototype in two weeks and I still haven’t made the revisions they requested last time. At this rate, I’m going to lose my sponsorship.” Once said out loud, he realizes how dire it sounds.

Viktor looks stunned. Leaning forward, he takes Jayce’s hand as he earnestly asks, “Is it really that bad, Jayce?”

Jayce nods, not trusting his words in the moment. He clutches Viktor’s hand like a life-line. The world falls away, the noise and chatter of the room seeming to dampen and it's just him and Viktor.

“Silly man. You should have told me earlier.” Viktor's voice is low and comforting. He rubs a tiny circle with his thumb on the back of Jayce’s hand. “How can I help?”

“Um, do you know of any Undercity junk shops?”

***

Jayce winds his way through the Undercity. It's barely dawn, the cool morning air being the only thing keeping him from sweating through his clothes with nerves. Every few seconds, he clutches at his coin purse, even though Viktor must have warned him a hundred times not to do so.

"Keep your money close on your body, and don't indicate where it is if you can help it," he'd said and Jayce had nodded along. It seemed so obvious in the familiar comfort of the Academy. Now though…

He clutches at it again as he refers to Viktor's hand drawn map. Was he supposed to turn at the forth or fifth bridge? Slightly panicked, he realizes he's completely lost count of the winding bridges, alleyways, and ramps all leading down to the heart of the Undercity. With a sigh, he puts the map back in his breast pocket and feels for the purse once again. Relieved, he pulls his cloak tighter around himself and decides to just keep moving downward. Maybe he'll pass by some enforcers who can give him some directions once he's closer to the Entresol level.

He soldiers on. Other than his painful awareness of sticking out like a sore thumb, the journey has been almost pleasant. The Undercity, or at least this part of it, isn’t nearly as bad as he had always been led to believe.

He stops to admire the colorful murals painted on the walls. One of the bust of a beautiful woman catches his eye in particular. As he stands in front of it, wondering who she could be, he's nearly bowled over by a giggling group of kids careening through the alleys.

"Hey!" he calls out as he fights to steady himself. "Watch where you're going, you could get hurt." The kids just laugh harder and with a skill and alacrity that almost boggles the mind, half of them have scaled the walls and are joyously leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Only the ringleader pauses, giving Jayce a cheeky salute and a wink before they laughingly join their friends.

Jayce can't help but chuckle along himself as he dusts himself off. Kids, they should enjoy that energy while they have it, he thinks before with widening eyes, he scrambles for his coin purse again. With a sigh of relief, it's still there, the cogs clinking together merrily. See, Viktor, I can take care of myself.

He resumes his descent. Carriages billowing green puffs of smoke roam the streets, and massive cable cars overhead lead to the deeper parts of the city. Gothic spires reach heavenward, casting enormous shadows over the narrow streets. It's impossible for them to not feel crowded, chatter in various languages assault his ears until it just becomes a part of the background noise. Even the smells are more intense. Fish stalls and butchers operate directly on the streets. Fruit stands hawk what look to be Piltover's rejects as he curiously glances at the bruised and misshapen persimmons and pineapples. Loud haggling can be heard throughout the streets and he pulls up the hood of his cloak in an attempt to dampen it. He reaches for Viktor's map again, flinching a bit from the glares of the passersby. Thank the gods that Viktor was a skilled artist and he soon find the street he was supposed to be on. He swings onto it and is gratified to see that there is pretty heavy enforcer presence around. Feeling safer, his steps quicken as the ground grows steeper.

The deeper he goes, the worse the air quality gets. For a while, he just tries to hold in his coughs. Which works until it doesn't. When he starts to feel light-headed from the lack of oxygen, he finally puts on the gas mask that Viktor had insisted that he bring along. No one else seems affected by the air, or even notice a difference. Just a few feet later, the light goes from the dimness of a cloudy day, to almost as dark as the coming evening. Jayce isn't sure whether it's from the worsening air quality or the fact that the spiraling towers are now so thick in number that they have created a kind of canopy overhead, blocking out the light. It's probably a combination of the two. Carefully, referring to the map as often as he dares, he crosses more bridges and winding ramps until the ground finally levels out for a bit. He turns down the alleyway indicated on the map and Benzo’s shop, at long last, comes into view.

It’s homely, a bit dingy and run down, but true to Viktor’s word, it sells anything and everything. A bell dings as he opens the door. He's immediately overwhelmed by the tight space and the sheer amount of stuff in the shop. A small kid with a shock of white hair pops his head up from behind the counter. A huge grin painted on his face, he comes bounding over.

"Welcome!" he chirps, "Call me 'Little Man'." He puffs out his chest and waits for Jayce to be suitably impressed. They stare at each other for a beat before the kid continues, completely unchastened, "Benzo isn't here right now but I'll be able to help you with anything you need." He smiles up widely at Jayce.

"Thanks," he can't help but grin back as“Little Man" starts trying to entice Jayce into looking at various items for sale in a well rehearsed tone.

"And here we have a...uh...thing-a-ma-bob. It's very rare. And over here we have a max capacitor. We have the best prices for these anywhere in the Fissures. Ask anyone."

It’s cute. Jayce indulges him for a bit, picking up items and examining them seriously. He finds a few useful things and sets them aside on the counter to be purchased. A large man, Benzo, Jayce assumes, comes in holding a huge box of more scraps. He watches on fondly as "Little Man" continues his sales pitch to Jayce for a huge grandfather clock that he most certainly has no use for.

He adds a few more items that he can melt down and use to make a new HCSC, and just as he thinks he's gotten everything he needs, he spots them. Behind the counter are some blue glowing crystals, the same color as the stone around his neck. The same as the remaining Shuriman crystals hidden away in his room. He can almost feel the runestone twitch in recognition of others of its kind.

“How much for the blue gems behind you there?” he asks eagerly, pointing them out to Benzo. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear Viktor's warning about haggling and staying nonchalant, he can't help it. This could be the find of the century.

“Oh these? Oh yes, these are brackern crystals. Extremely valuable. They can only be found in the deepest, most dangerous mines. For you, I could sell them to you for, hmm, let’s say 60 cogs a piece.”

It was a steep price.

Jayce doesn’t even hesitate. “I’ll take all of them,” he cries, throwing his coin purse onto the counter. He waits patiently while Benzo counts out the gold. Once he seems satisfied, he hands the gems over. As soon as they are in his hand, he knows that these were exactly what he has been needing for Hextech. The crystals hummed with energy and the runestone hummed in return. In the excitement of his success that he completely misses the looks passing between Benzo and the young boy. 

***

His trip home is a blur. The whole way back, the only thing he can focus on are the gems cradled to his chest. When he throws the door open to the flat, Viktor isn't there. He must still be at one of his teaching jobs. All the better for Jayce to slip the gems safely away without anyone noticing. Trembling with excitement, he delicately opens the secret case and secures the new crystals inside.  

For a minute, he sits back. Completely silent. Then he breaks into a low chuckle, and finally a full force laugh bursts from him. The colors in the room fade while the blue of the gem seems to grow ever brighter. His brain feels like it's leaping from thought to thought with alarming speed. This has to work… I've thrown my life away on a fool's errand… I'm a genius… No one else at this school is as ambitious as me… I'm spitting in the face of the Kiramman's goodwill… My family's honor is at stake…Who else would be foolish enough to try to marry science and technology…Who else would be brilliant enough to make it work…

Each thought sends him careening into a high or low that he can't seem to control. Taking some deep breaths to calm himself, he gently closes the lid. As soon as the glow of the crystals is smothered, it's as though is mind clears for the first time since he can remember. For the moment at least, his mind is still. Calm. He brushes his hand lovingly over the case. It was one of his favorite designs and had even won him a few minor accolades at one of the Distinguished Innovator Competitions. What made it perfect for the crystals was the built in power dampener and little grips that hold the gems secure, and most importantly, away from each other. If there is one thing he's learned over his years of working with them, it was how volatile they are.

Next, he grabs the scrap metal he bought from the Undercity and heads for the forge. Pounding away at the irons has a way of soothing his mind that nothing else can. It's meditative, but still requires him to stay in tune with his body and mind. Under his hands, the newest Hextech Crystal Stabilizer and Conduit comes to life. He jots down more notes while he waits for the metal to cool down enough for him to start etching the desired runes into it. Finally, hours later, it's ready. His magnum opus. He places it back into the box he'd bought the scraps in and covers it with an old rag to hide it. He really doesn't want any other students (Dmitri) stealing his design.

Whistling a merry little tune, he heads back up High Street back towards the Academy. He's almost at the front gates when a carriage pulls up sharply next to him.

"Hey! Jayce, it's me!" A familiar head pokes out of the window, grinning widely.

"Sprout?" he asks, disbelieving his own eyes as she scrambles out of the carriage and bounds over to give him a tight squeeze.

"I knew it was you," she preens. "I asked the driver to stop as soon as I saw it was you."

"That's great, but what are you doing here?" Jayce squeezes back. "I didn't think your mom allowed you to leave the manor."

"Well," Caitlyn looks up and down the street to see if anyone is listening in, then leans over conspiratorially. "She doesn't know I'm here," she whispers. "She thinks I'm at my music lesson. But I wanted to come visit you. It's been ages," she pouts.

Jayce has a sudden, brilliant idea. The timing of Caitlyn's visit is almost miraculous. "Would you be able to do me a favor?"

Caitlyn nods up him. "Of course."

***

He re-enters the flat empty handed. It's still deserted. He's really going to have to sit Viktor down and have a talk to him about overworking himself. He glances up at the wall clock. If he hurries, he can just make to his late afternoon class on time. Running down the hall, he has a quick shower and a shave. Back in uniform, he smartens up in front of his mirror, making sure he hasn’t missed a spot shaving and that every hair is in place. While he may still be feeling chaotic on the inside, by all outward appearances he was a put together Academy student in the prime of life. Straightening his vest and with one final smile to the mirror, he turns and runs down the stairs.

He almost collides into Dmitri and his gang of admirers. It takes everything in his power not to gloat with the secret knowledge that he finally has everything he needs to blow Dmitri’s pitiful inventions out of the water.

"Hi, Dmitri. How's it going?" He manages to almost sound sincere. The group exchange glances.

Clearly confused, Dmitri answers him slowly. "I'm doing well, Jayce. Just on my way to the lab. How are you?"

Jayce could strangle him. Who does he think he is, with his hideous ponytail and stupid face. He doesn't bother answering. Instead he brushes past them and continues on his way. The whole time, he imagines how it will feel to finally have the recognition and praise of the entire Academy. He sees an imaginary Professor Heimerdinger giving him an award while a cheering crowd looks on. His mother hugs him with tears in her eyes as she proclaims to the world that her son is the one to put the Talis family name on the map. Then a shiny-eyed Viktor looks up at him and says “If you do not stop daydreaming, you are going to be late to class again.” With a small shake of his head, Jayce pulls himself out of his reverie.

He does not, in fact, make it to his class on time.

During the entire lecture, he’s still thinking about Hextech, his notebooks filled with sketches of rune sequences instead of whatever it is the professor is saying. As soon as they are dismissed, he runs to the nearest pneuma-tube. He pens a quick note to Caitlyn to meet up with him later and watches the tube whisk the message away where it will travel through the underground network of tunnels until it is sorted and sent to its final destination. With his mission complete, he returns to his dorm one final time, giving the chest a loving tap as he grabs his satchel then heads out the door.

***

Feeling like he can relax and try to focus on something else for once, he heads to the library. He has deliberately left all his Hextech notes and equipment in the dorm so that he can try to work on his doctorate project. He still has one week left to make sure the prototype works and the revisions have been implemented correctly. If Hextech works of course it won’t matter, but it never hurts to have a backup plan. And losing his sponsorship would mean the end of his time at the Academy and the respect that he’s earned his family by becoming the first in his family to ever achieve such academic success. 

Looking for a quiet spot to settle in, he thinks he sees Viktor and another student sitting together at a desk in the farthest corner of the study area. He does a double take. It is indeed Viktor, sitting with his back to him and his cane propped against the desk, working together with another student. The sight startles him, he hasn’t known Viktor to really work with others.

Overcome with the urge to spy on whatever it is that they are working on, he starts sneaking from bookcase to bookcase, trying to get close enough to eavesdrop without alerting them to his presence. As he sidles closer, he grabs a random book and holds it up in front of his face. Finally he’s near enough to hear what they are talking about. 

“I’m not sure I can explain this in simpler terms,” Viktor sighs. “Perhaps this is not the best course for you to pursue at this time.”

“Please? Just try one more time, I’m sure I’ll get it if you explain it again,” pleads the other student. “I can’t fail this class or my sponsor will drop me. You’re my only hope, Viktor!” he cries, grasping at Viktor’s hand. Viktor recoils like he’s been burned. 

“Fine, but please pay attention. My time is very precious to me,” he replies stiffly, massaging his hand where it was groped.

The other student blubbers his thanks, still trying to hold Viktor’s hand. Much to Viktor’s clear annoyance. Jayce decides he’s seen enough and makes his way over to the desk.

“Viktor! I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you would still be with the Dean,” he says with false cheer, coming up from behind and clapping a hand on Viktor’s shoulder.

“Ah, Jayce!” Viktor looks visibly relieved. “Ah, yes. I have to attend a meeting for him in twenty minutes but Mr. Barrius has requested some assistance with his biochemistry homework.” Mr. Barrius blushes profusely. He’s well built, with dark hair and eyes and is looking at Viktor as if he hung the moon in the sky. Jayce can't help but wonder if he is playing dumb in order to get Viktor’s attention. A bad move if he is. Viktor doesn’t suffer fools lightly. 

He gives Viktor’s shoulder a quick squeeze. “Well, let me know if he gives you any trouble. I also made top marks in that class if he needs any additional help.” He gives Barrius a toothy grin with no warmth. Barrius looks away, face flushed. Feeling like he had completed what he set out to do, Jayce claps Viktor on the back again and turns to find a free desk.

“Oh,” Viktor turns in his chair to face him before he leaves, “Were you able to find what you were looking for at Benzo’s?”

“Yeah, yeah I think I did. Thanks for the map by the way.” He smiles and turns to go, but not before shooting Barrius another warning look. 

It's nearly dinner time by the time he exits the library. He'd tried to focus on his classwork, but his notes had devolved into sketches of Viktor sitting at his desk and runes doodled in the margins of his textbooks. Whistling tunelessly, he packs up his bags and makes his way outside to the space on the green that he had asked Caitlyn to meet him at. He spots her standing under a tree, the HCSC and other requested items thrown in a box that she’s cradling in her arms. He waves and jogs over, offering to take the box from her. She stands straighter and holds the box tighter to her chest. 

“No way,” she smirks playfully, “You’re not just taking this and running off again. I want to see what you’ve been working on.”

“Fine, come on then,” he laughs. “You won’t believe what I found in the Undercity.”

***

Caitlyn is still incredulous all the way to the dormitories. “Weren’t you scared at all? I mean, the Undercity is so dangerous. I’ve heard that they treat each other like animals down there.”

“Nope. It really wasn’t as bad as I thought. Plus, there were plenty of enforcers around.” Jayce turns down the familiar hallway, Caitlyn close on his heels.

He isn’t sure what first alerted him that something was wrong. But he feels it in the back of his mind, even before he tries turning the key in the lock. It’s jammed. After trying fruitlessly to push the door open, he presses his ear against it. He hears movement and the low murmur of voices. Oh great, he thinks, robbers. This is the absolute last thing he needs. Then he remembers, the crystals are still sitting out on his desk. Panicked, he starts pounding on the door.

“Hey! Who’s in there!? Open up!” he starts yelling and frantically kicking and hitting the door. The voices behind the door get louder, almost as if they are having an argument with each other. Frantic, Jayce throws the weight of his whole body into the door. At last, it gives way. Jayce doesn’t have any time to think beyond that as he finds himself suddenly blown backwards by a massive explosion. He slams back into the wall behind him. With his ears ringing and struggling to keep his eyes open, he catches only the vague image of a pink haired girl before the world goes black.

***

He isn’t sure how long he was out. He comes to as a medic is shining a light in his face and starts asking him basic questions. When he proves that he knows his name, the year he was born, and the day’s date, the medic helps him to his feet and guides him to a seat. After taking the pain medication that was handed to him, Jayce finally starts to assess the damage that was done.

His half of the room has been almost entirely blown up. A huge gaping hole in the wall leads directly to the outside. He can hear the traffic and bustle of the streets below along with the wailing sirens of the emergeny carriages that are no doubt parked outside. Enforcers are swarming the area, collecting evidence and rummaging through his and Viktor’s things for the source of the explosion. Jayce doubts very much that they will find anything in his and Viktor's underpants drawers, but he bites his tongue as a stern-faced woman approaches him.

“I’m Sheriff Grayson,” she says, her voice low and gravelly, “And I’m here for obvious reasons.” Jayce nods and regrets it as his head starts to ache immediately. “We’ve already questioned Miss Kiramman, but now we’d like to hear your side of the story.” 

Jayce starts to nod again before he catches himself. Instead he answers with a quiet, “Yeah, ok. That makes sense.”

“Were you aware that there were illegal experiments being conducted in this room?” 

Jayce stares at her for a minute, confused. Then stupidly he opens his mouth and answers, “You mean my Hextech experiments?” Sheriff Grayson’s mouth thins at the admission.

“Indeed, so you were aware. We have found evidence of contraband and illegal activity taking place and you are now admitting that this was your work.” 

Jayce’s head feels like it’s spinning. “But…I was robbed! There never would have been an explosion if it hadn’t been for the break in!”

“Oh, we are quite aware. We already have enforcers searching for the culprits. However, that does not absolve you of possessing dangerous materials and endangering the lives of civilians. You’re incredibly lucky no one was harmed in the explosion or you’d be facing a charge of manslaughter as well,” she answers him coldly. Jayce feels the blood draining from his face. Nervously he starts running his thumb across his palm, then when that doesn’t work, squeezing his hands into tight fists to try and stop them from shaking. This couldn’t be happening. He was supposed to be celebrating right now. Everything was finally, finally going his way. Hextech was going to work and his sponsorship would be saved. Friends and family were supposed to be lining up to congratulate him on his success. Not…this.  

Then the worst thing yet happens. 

Viktor slowly limps into what remains of the room and simply asks, “What happened here?

Chapter Text

Chapter Ten

The Trial

Viktor pauses at the top of the steps and attempts to massage his aching leg.

He is utterly sick of stairs. With a grimace, he works the ache out of his hip with his fingers. At the very least, the knee brace is taking some pressure off of that joint. Thank Janna for small graces. Taking another second to compose himself, he raps at the door before stepping into Professor Heimerdinger’s office with the notes he had taken from the last Council meeting carefully balanced in his arms.

He doesn't look up as he enters. The Dean's office is as familiar to him by now as his own room. Rich Noxian rugs that cover every inch of the floor and books from all over Runeterra line the walls. Viktor had spent hours just deciding which book to begin reading first. On the opposite side, a humongous stained glass window takes up an entire wall. Somehow, any light that passes through it is softened and the room is never overly warm. Sometimes when the professor is away on business, Viktor uses his key to enter and just curl up in front of the window, reading everything that catches his fancy.

It isn't until he's almost at the professor's desk that he realizes they aren't alone.

An enforcer looms ahead, straightening his back as Viktor approaches.

“Ah, Viktor my boy,” Heimerdinger says, twirling his mustache absentmindedly, “You’re just the person I need.”

“How can I help, Professor,” Viktor replies softly, never taking his eyes off of the enforcer in front of him.

As soon as the words exit his mouth, the enforcer does a double take, eyes narrowing. He stares sharply down his nose as Viktor cautiously approaches, his mouth pulled down into a frown. Viktor keeps his own expression neutral as he places the papers on the desk and turns to face the professor.

“According to Officer Marcus, we have a bit of an academic scandal on our hands," the Yordle sighs. "Some unauthorized experiments have resulted in damage to Academy property. I will need you to go to the scene and confiscate anything dangerous. Here, take this," he thrusts a stack of paperwork towards him. "I've compiled a rough guide on what you should be looking for. Ah! And take this. My official seal in case anyone asks.” Heimerdinger adds said seal to the top of the small mountain of papers and places it into Viktor's outstretched arms. His eyes, usually full of cheer, are more tired and serious than Viktor has ever seen them. Scanning the top sheet, his heart sinks when he sees the address.

Oh, Jayce. What have you done?

***

Whatever he was expecting, the reality was worse.

Long before he's reached their flat, emergency carriages fly past him, careening around corners, sirens blaring as pedestrians leap out of their way. With a growing sense of dread, he continues on.

As he approaches the building, he can feel his jaw physically drop. Enforcers and medics are running around frantically, but most alarming, there is now a gaping hole where their balcony once stood. He throws up a silent prayer to Janna that no one was hurt as he slowly makes his way up the stairs. An enforcer stops him at the door to the room.

"Halt! Authorized personnel only."

“I’m here under orders from the Dean of the Academy,” he says with as much authority as he can muster, producing Heimerdinger’s papers. He drums his fingers on his cane nervously as the enforcer inspects them. After an agonizing wait while the enforcer confirms its authenticity, she hands him back the orders and steps aside so that Viktor can enter.

If he thought the outside was bad, the inside is even worse.

The explosion has taken out Jayce’s half of the room entirely. His bed, desk, and half of his blackboard are in ashes. Even the mandolin that Jayce has been gleefully torturing him with is strewn across the floor in pieces, the steel strings curling pathetically towards him as if in supplication. A thin film of dust covers everything and Viktor can follow the footprints of the medics and enforcers littering the ground. He steps carefully over strewn papers and shattered crystals and dishware, occasionally brushing aside a larger obstacle with his cane.

Stopping in the middle of the room, Viktor has a horrible realization.

Whatever it was that Jayce was working on, it was clearly dangerous. Was it possible that they have died in their sleep? He squeezes his eyes closed and takes a deep breath, then continues deeper into the wreckage.

The Kiramman daughter, Caitlyn, is currently being questioned by an enforcer while a medic drapes a blanket over her shoulders. She appears calm but he can see her hands trembling as she grips the blanket.

Then his eyes are drawn to Jayce. Viktor breathes a quiet sigh of relief to see that he's in one piece. He examines Jayce as he sits hunched over in one of the few remaining intact chairs. Physically at least, he seems unharmed. One of his legs is bouncing up and down uncontrollably and he’s clenching his fists, a thing he only does when he tries to keep his hands from shaking. Viktor can tell by the tone of his voice as he talks with the sheriff that he’s probably still in shock. His voice keeps rising, the tone going from exasperated to desperate, and Viktor decides that it’s time to step in.

"What happened here?" he asks, keeping his tone calm. Mildly inquisitive. There's enough chaos happening already and he doesn't intend to add to it.

At his appearance, Jayce pales. Guilt mixed with something else passes over his face.

“I don’t know, science I guess?” is the weak reply. They stare at each other for a beat. “What are you doing here, Viktor?” Jayce hisses, looking anxiously from Viktor, to the enforcer, and then back to Viktor.

“Heimerdinger sent me to oversee proceedings and to confiscate anything deemed dangerous to the public,” he sighs deeply, leaning heavily on his cane and continues, “And I’m afraid my list includes you.”

“What! How am I dangerous!? Viktor, you know me!” Jayce looks close to tears, his voice raspy and panicked.

“I know, Jayce,” Viktor says, his own voice almost whisper soft. “But the Council needs to conduct a thorough investigation for the trial.” 

“Trial!?” Jayce tries to rise from his seat but Sheriff Grayson prevents him with a firm hand to his shoulder.

“Whoa there, son. We don’t need anyone getting too excited, ok?” she says, not unkindly. With a groan, Jayce sinks back down and lets his head fall into his hands.  

Then she turns her attention to Viktor.

"You two know each other." It's more of a statement than a question. Jayce nods once before he clutches his head with a hiss of pain. Cautiously, Viktor answers.

"Yes, we are roommates. This," he gestures with his cane, "Was my room as well."

"I see. And were you aware of just what your 'roommate' was up to? Did you assist him in anyway?"

With a frankness that surprises even himself he simply states, "I had no idea."

"I find that difficult to believe." She narrows her eyes in suspicion. "How could you two have been living in such close proximity without any knowledge of what the other was doing." Although Viktor knows she doesn't intend it in that way, it feels like an indictment on the state of his and Jayce's friendship. He stares down at the papers topped with Heimerdinger's seal. The charges pour off of the page.

'Illegal experiments…dangerous contraband…lack of permits…public endangerment' The words swim in front of him; accusatory. He takes a breath, ready for more remonstrations when Jayce suddenly moves.

Jayce shakes the sheriff's hand off his shoulder and rises to his feet. Even at his full height, he stands about equal to the head enforcer. Sheriff Grayson starts to reach for a weapon and Viktor stiffens in horror, unable to stop what he fears is about to happen.

Before he can even collect his wits, Jayce is pleading with the sheriff, "Please, he had nothing to do with this. I swear it. I kept everything a secret. Hidden. No one knew anything, least of all him." Jayce gesticulates wildly before collapsing back down in his chair after his outburst, looking more exhausted than Viktor has ever seen him. He drags his hands down his face, "You have to believe me. Viktor had nothing to do with my experiments."

It takes everything in Viktor's power not to reach out to Jayce and try to offer some comfort. But even a hand on Jayce's shoulder feels too dangerous. One wrong move and he might accidentally undermine Jayce's efforts to prove his own innocence.

Instead he glances around the room, once again taking in the damage. He wishes that Jayce had just come to him with whatever this "independent study" had been before it had come to this. Clearly, Jayce had bitten off a bit more than he could chew.

Sheriff Grayson is still standing right there, her sharp eyes taking in every movement that passes between the two of them, from Jayce's pleading glances to Viktor's avoidance. Ignoring Jayce’s distress as best he can, he nods to her to continue her questioning while he starts working his way down the list given to him by Heimerdinger. 

He picks through the remnants of the life they'd shared. He collects the remains of some kind of rune engraved metal device that he's never seen before, and hands it off reluctantly to the enforcer trailing behind him. Next he approaches a case that contains two glowing gems.

"Be careful with those," Jayce cries in alarm when he sees Viktor leaning over them. "They're, uh, fragile."

The lie is obvious. Viktor allows another enforcer who's been shadowing him to handle the case after locking it up tightly. He'd rather not get himself blown up.

A pattern soon emerges. Viktor goes down the list provided by Heimerdinger and an enforcer, always right at his elbow, takes it for processing. If he were a less cynical person in general, he'd think that they were just there to be helpful. But he suspects that they are there to keep an eye on him just as much as they were there to document the crime scene. Finally they reach the end of the list and the moment he'd been dreading happens.

An enforcer takes out a pair of cuffs and grabs Jayce none too gently.

"Hey, watch it," Jayce protests as his arms are yanked behind his back.

The enforcer ignores him. Speaking to her colleague instead she says, "Be careful with him, he could be dangerous," as she makes the hand off.

"How come you all keep saying that?" Jayce demands as they begin to march him out of the room. Viktor wants to beg him to be quiet and not make this more difficult on himself than it needs to be.

But he doesn't.

Staring through the hole where their balcony once stood, he listens to the proceedings, his cane clenched tightly in one hand. He pours every ounce of will into standing perfectly still, knowing that if he takes one look at Jayce, sees him surrounded, cuffed and desperate for help, that he will launch himself at the enforcers and beg them not to do this. And failing that, he would try to take Jayce and run. He'd take his hand and they'd flee to...somewhere. He doesn’t know. Maybe Zaun. They could be fugitive inventors together. Somewhere in the depths where they can be alone and safe. Where no one can find them.

He shakes his head to dispel these thoughts. Fantasy isn't what's needed at this time. Besides, even in his imagination he realizes how helpless he is. He'd never be able to fight off enforcers. And how did he think he was going to be able to outrun them to the safety of Zaun? No, he needs to keep his wits about him if he wants to get himself and Jayce out of this.

If only he had a better understanding of what this even was.

Turning away at last from the damaged wall, he spots it. In the rubble and chaos it’s been overlooked, but Viktor is sure that this is the same notebook that Jayce had tried to hide from him weeks ago. This journal was technically on the list, but after failing to find it, he had marked it as likely destroyed. He should let an enforcer know so that it can be locked away in evidence. Instead, he glances from side to side. For the first time since entering the apartment, all the enforcers are occupied with something else and aren't paying any attention to him. Casually as he can muster, he picks up the journal and tucks it under his vest. He’s going to figure out just what exactly Jayce has gotten himself caught up in. 

***

After Jayce was taken away, he's allowed, under enforcer supervision of course, to take any of his undamaged belongings with him to the temporary dorm that the Academy will be providing now that his own has been blown to smithereens.

By some miracle, his mother and father's effects have been completely untouched by the blast. Gingerly, he gathers them up and places them into the crate that an enforcer had handed to him. Next he finds the few clothes that remain unscorched and drops them in. After some consideration, he grabs a few of the mildly scorched ones as well. Perhaps he could try to mend them later. Mechanically, he packs away various little items as he comes to them. Some ink pens here. Some books from his personal collection there. He even adds a house plant that has stubbornly, and against all odds, survived the blast. It actually looks greener now than when Jayce and Viktor were diligently tending to it. He turns to his desk and wipes away some of the dust with the palm of his hand. Most of his notes are completely ruined but a few textbooks survive. He adds those to the crate as well and does one final sweep of the room.

It's both cluttered and strangely bare. Remnants of two lives interrupted.

Despite the obvious wrongness of the room, he keeps half expecting Jayce to come bursting through the doors at any moment. He glances at the door and tries to picture it. Jayce coming in with a bottle of cheap wine and a million ideas bubbling to the surface. They'd go out to the balcony and have a drink or three and discuss their theories deep into the night.

Behind him, the enforcer huffs his boredom. Right, Viktor thinks, let's get on with it.

Just as he reaches a hand out for the door, a glimmer catches his eye. Kneeling down with a groan, he sees that it's the amber paperweight. It must have been blown under the toppled bookshelf in the explosion. He reaches for it, hoping the shelf won't collapse on top of him. Feeling around blindly, his fingers finally connect with the smooth stone and he pulls it out triumphantly.

It's cracked down the middle. Viktor holds it up to the light of the setting sun as it streams in through the hole in the wall. Somehow, it seems more fitting this way. A bit imperfect. Much like himself. He places it in the crate and pulls himself back to his feet with some difficulty, using his cane as leverage. The notebook, still tucked under his vest, pokes him painfully in the ribs as he hoists himself upright.

"Are you done?" the enforcer asks, exasperated. Viktor nods and waits for the enforcer to leave the room first before he closes the door behind them.

***

It's dark by the time they arrive outside. The cool night air causes a shiver to run down Viktor's spine. Everything feels more real now that he's on the sidewalk, holding all his worldly belongings in a box. With a strange sense of deja vu, he follows the enforcer to the dormitories.

"You must be pretty popular," the enforcer says, conversational for the first time since this whole thing began. "There were several students volunteering to house you."

Stunned, Viktor replies, "No, I don't think so. Most people find me…odd."

He's heard the whispers when his students thought he couldn't hear them. A machine, they called him. Cold. Strange. It wasn't much different among his peers.

"You're like a robot yourself, Vik. Can I call you Vik?"

"No," he'd answered not bothering to look up from his notes. Only Jayce was allowed to shorten his name. He tried to concentrate as the robotics professor below them droned on about actuators and end-effectors.

"I'm telling you, Vik," his classmate continued, completely ignoring him. "You need to loosen up. The whole robotics team will be going to celebrate except you. A couple of nights out drinking aren't going to kill you. So what if some reports are turned in a little late. What's the worst that could happen?"

Just losing his job, Viktor had wanted to reply. His means of survival. The only thing that gave him even a modicum of respect in Piltover. Of course he hadn't said any of that. Just kept his head down and let them continue their conversation around him.

"Yeah," another student had piped in. She tossed a long braid over her shoulder as she added, "You're so uptight. When's the last time you let loose? Had a little fun?"

"Can you imagine Vik out on a date?" laughed the first speaker. The other student broke into peels of laughter.

"Gods, he'd probably try to take them to take apart an engine or something."

And what's wrong with that, Viktor had thought, scribbling down his notes with greater force than was necessary.

"You better leave him alone," came a third voice, high and nasally. Viktor was ready to give him a smile in thanks when the voice continued speaking. "Who knows what his idea of a good time is. For a sump-rat, a fun night out probably involves mugging people. Isn't that what they do all day in the Undercity?" He chuckled and added, "Though in Viktor's case, it's probably stealing from babies or little old ladies. That's about all he could manage." He had then kicked at Viktor's cane from where it stood propped against the table and laughed at his own joke.

All the while, the half smile remained frozen on Viktor's face. The others had laughed along politely as Viktor had felt his face growing warm. He put his head down and went back to his notes.

That's all he was to them. A stranger from the Undercity who moved through life like an automaton.

As he and the enforcer finally approach the main dormitory, a young man races down the steps to greet them. As he gets closer, Viktor recognizes him as Edwin Barrius from his biochemistry classes.

"Um, hi Viktor. Oh, here. Let me take that from you." He swoops in and plucks the crate out of Viktor's arms before he can protest that he really doesn't need any help.

"Good evening, Mr. Barrius," he begins politely. "Have you been having any more trouble with your homework?"

"Oh, um," Barrius blushes furiously, "No, not since you helped me. Thanks again for that." He shuffles the crate around in his arms so haphazardly that Viktor has to physically stop himself from snatching it back. He grits his teeth as he hears his belongings crashing and rattling about.

"I'm gratified to hear that," he says softly, tone still polite. "But if you don't mind my asking, what are you doing here?" They start up the stairs, Barrius walking backwards so that he can continue to face Viktor and the enforcer tailing from behind, with Viktor awkwardly sandwiched between them.

"Oh, right!" —Crash, clatter— "When I heard about what happened to your room, I reached out to volunteer for you to stay with me." —Rustle, crash — "My roommate is studying abroad so it's just me there right now." He nearly trips on the top step and the crate goes careening to the side again. Viktor winces as his things once again threaten to spill out of their container and down the stairs. Even the plant seems to be begging Viktor for its life.

"That's very kind of you, but I was really hoping to have some time to myself." Viktor is already mourning the loss of his hoped for privacy.

"Oh..."

Barrius's face falls and Viktor quickly adds "But I do appreciate your looking out for me."

His face lights back up. "I mean, it was the least I could do after all the help you gave me, y'know?" Much to Viktor's relief, Barrius finally faces forward as he rushes to hold the door open for him. Still sandwiched between the enthusiastic undergrad and bored enforcer, they shuffle through the great halls.

Thankfully, Barrius's room is on the first floor. A welcome change from his and Jayce's high-rise. As Viktor is led inside, the enforcer stands awkwardly in the doorway, clearly unsure if he's completed his orders. Viktor doesn't have the energy to hand-hold any further and gives him what he hopes is an authoritative nod of dismissal. It seems to do the trick as the enforcer disappears with a final salute. Viktor heaves a sigh of relief. Until he realizes that the eyes of the law have been replaced by the rather eager eyes of Edwin Barrius.

Alone with Barrius, Viktor isn't sure how to act. He barely knows the man. Other than helping him with his homework, they haven't had any interactions outside of a classroom setting. To stall for time, he glances around the room. It's different from the open space of his and Jayce's apartment. There is a short entry hall which leads to a small shared living space. Barrius and whoever his roommate was have decorated the space with low couches, worn rugs, and posters from various opera performances. Barrius leads him to a room on the opposite side of the flat.

The room is sparse. Just a bed, desk, and closet filled with empty hangers. No trace of whoever this room belonged to remains.

He sinks down onto the bed, the exhaustion of the day finally catching up to him. Barrius hovers over him, clearly concerned. To try to put him at ease, Viktor attempts some small talk.

"So, are you the fan of opera or is it your roommate?" he asks lightly.

Barrius blushes profusely.

"Oh, that would be my roommate. I'm more into Undercity bands." He responds, clearly trying for a smooth tone. Viktor raises a brow.

"Really? Which ones do you like?"

An uncomfortable silence ensues while Barrius's face grows ever redder.

"Um…you know. Just Undercity music. In general." A bead of sweat makes an agonizingly slow descent down the side of his face. He makes to lean against the desk, misses, and nearly tumbles to the floor. The action isn't lost on Viktor.

"You don't have to lie to me, Mr. Barrius. In fact, it would probably be for the best if we were completely honest with each other," Viktor says, not unkindly. Barrius has the decency to look ashamed.

"You're right. Of course, you're right. Actually, both me and my roommate like opera. We collect the posters whenever we see a show together."

Viktor smiles warmly for the first time that night.

"See, that's better already."

Barrius returns the smile and wipes his sweaty palms on his pants leg. "Well, I guess you've had a long day…but I'm just across the hall if you need anything." He backs out of the room slowly, before finally and reluctantly closing the bedroom door.

Viktor rescues the little houseplant by placing it on the bare desk. The rest of crate remains untouched. He isn't interested in making this room a home.

He collapses back on the bed, every muscle in his back and legs aching. He lays down, too tired to crawl under the covers or do more than just stare at the ceiling above him.

He is suddenly overcome with such intense longing for Jayce that it leaves him gasping for air. For years now, he's been the person Viktor could always turn, whether it be for a comforting hand laid gently over a shoulder, a bright smile, or to bounce ideas off of as they idled over meals. He misses Jayce's warm hugs and his laughter. The way his eyes would light up when he'd just had an idea and how he'd start talking about it faster and faster, as though he would simply burst if he couldn't get the words out in time. He had been safety, family, and love. And now he was just…gone.

While his body fights to pull him into sleep, his mind races back through the past weeks, analyzing every interaction he's had with Jayce. Struggling to find all the signs that he had so clearly missed.

They'd both been stressed lately. That, at least, he could be sure of. But he thought that Jayce had been stressed about his upcoming thesis dissertation. Or possibly by his bi-yearly meeting with Cassandra Kiramman. Clearly, this had been erroneous. In retrospect, the request for a Zaunite junk shop should have been a sign that something was off, but he'd simply overlooked it at the time. He himself went to junk shops all the time, so the request hadn't seemed too strange. Besides, Benzo's was one of the more legitimate shops in the Lanes so he hadn't even considered that Jayce may be looking for anything illegal.

With a groan, he sits up and pulls the journal from where it's been nestled up against his ribs. The Talis emblem gleams up at him, invitingly. With a small sigh of trepidation, he turns to the first page.

***

The first rays of the sun are starting to stream into the windows by the time he closes the book for the second time.

He needs to talk to Jayce.

***

"Thank you for meeting with me so early, Viktor." Heimerdinger hops up onto his desk chair and levers it up so that he can see over his desk.

"Of course, Professor." Viktor eases himself down onto one of the high backed plush chairs and shifts to face the Yordle. They've been meeting this early every morning for the past four years but Viktor doesn't mention that.

"And I am sorry for involving you in that rather nasty business with Mr. Talis. I would have done it myself but, as you know, duty calls."

The "duty" in question had been a dinner party with the Council but Viktor doesn't mention that either.

"Indeed, Professor. As to that matter, I was wondering where Jayce is at the moment. The enforcers wouldn't tell me."

"Yes, I suppose they wouldn't until they've determined that you aren't an accessory to the crime." Heimerdinger begins organizing the paperwork Viktor handed him into neat stacks while the poro, who was his constant companion, curls up for a nap in the doggy bed next to the desk.

Viktor waits for him to go on. The professor just hums softly to himself as he continues dividing the paperwork.

"And your thoughts on the matter are…?" Viktor finally prompts. Heimerdinger looks up at him in surprise.

"Oh, of course I don't suspect you in this. That would be ridiculous."

"So can you tell me where Jayce is being housed right now?"

The professor's bright blue eyes narrow.

"Tell me, my boy, do you know the exact nature of the charges against Mr. Talis?"

Viktor plays innocent. "I believe it had to do with conducting experiments without a permit."

"Yes, in part." The professor hops off of his seat and rounds the desk. His poro raises his head in surprise, this is not a part of the usual routine. Watching with glittery black eyes, he waits to see what his owner is going to do next. Heimerdinger walks to one of the many blackboards erected around the room. Viktor turns in his seat, watching on as the professor begins writing on the board with a long piece of chalk.

Silence, other than the scratch of the chalk, stretches between them until finally Heimerdinger turns back around to show Viktor what he's been writing. Runic sequences cover the entire board.

"Do any of these look familiar to you?" Heimerdinger asks as Viktor stands and joins the professor for a better look.

They do look familiar. They are the same exact sequences that Jayce had been writing in his journal.

Wide eyed, Viktor whispers more to himself than to anyone, "But what does it mean?"

"Magic," Heimerdinger answers simply. Viktor turns to him sharply as the Yordle continues, "I'm afraid your friend was dabbling with forces far beyond his control and understanding."

Viktor frowns, thinking back to what he read in the journal. It seemed to him that Jayce actually had a pretty good understanding of what he was working with. He doesn't say that of course.

"Three hundred years ago, magic permeated all of Runeterra. Mages were common in those days and immensely powerful. More powerful than even the strongest mages of today." Heimerdinger begins pacing in front of the board. "And the most powerful weapons they possessed were runestones. Able to harness and amplify a mage's natural abilities they were soon wildly sought after."

"I was under the impression that runestones were made, not found in nature," Viktor says without thinking. His jaw snaps shut with an audible click and does his best not to meet the professor's suspicious look.

"…That's true. They were created by human hands, but they can only be made by a master mage and only at a great personal cost. The more powerful the stone, the more rare and desirable it was. Great wars were fought over the ownership of these runes. I've seen entire civilizations brought to ruin on just the rumor that they possessed one."

The entire time Heimerdinger is speaking, Viktor finds himself being drawn ever closer to the blackboard. His fingers trace one of the sequences as if of its own will. With a jolt, he's brought back to himself by Heimerdinger rapping sharply on the board with his pointer.

"You mustn't get yourself wrapped up in this. The Talis boy may have been your friend, but he doesn't know what he was meddling with. It would be wise for you to forget anything you may have seen in that room. You're both lucky to even be alive." He returns to his desk and shoves a massive amount of paperwork in Viktor's direction. "Now that that nasty business is out of the way, let's go over the day's agenda."

***

Viktor watches the raindrops slide down the window. He finally has a moment alone to reflect for the first time since his meeting that morning. The raindrops drum against the windowpanes in a comforting rhythm. It was exactly the kind of evening that called for a hot cup of tea and a good book. Maybe some exciting new academic journal. Or better yet, some kind of project to be tinkering on with Jayce.

He shifts in the unfamiliar chair, trying to find a comfortable position for his back. The muscles are tight from a day of sitting up, ramrod straight, for panel after panel in front of the entire Academic Board. He had fielded just about every question and accusation possible regarding his involvement in what they were calling "The Talis Incident". As though Jayce wasn't even a person to them anymore. He can't remember what he said, but it must have been good enough as he hadn't been dropped from the program. More importantly, he still had Heimerdinger's support behind him. For now.

The Yordle's warnings about magic still echo in his head as he stares blankly at one drop in particular as it slowly glides down the windowpane. Methodically, he traces the spine of Jayce's journal as he considers what his next move should be.

He's startled by a soft knock at the door.

"Come in?" He hates how tremulous the words sound to his ear. Turning reluctantly away from the window, he sees Barrius poking his head shyly around the corner.

"Um, hi. Sorry to bother you. But, this was left for you and it looks important." He holds a pneuma tube out and Viktor can see the official Council seal stamped on the side.

With a sigh, he pulls himself to his feet and gently takes the tube from Barrius's hand. With a deft flick of his wrist, he unscrews the top and the rolled message drops into his hand. He can feel Barrius's curious gaze on it as he breaks the seal. He has half a mind to send him away, but that would take more energy than he currently has.

The official summons to the trial spills out in front of him.

Heart sinking, Viktor skims the overly stylized calligraphy. He's been subpoenaed. He expected as much. As his eyes make it further down the page, the paper crumples as his hands spasm involuntarily. The trial would be happening tomorrow morning.

That left him no time. No time to prepare a defense or strategize at all. He can't help but view this as deliberate. His chest starts to tighten as images of Jayce chained up, alone and afraid enter his mind unbidden. He can almost hear the voices of the Council condemning him to Stillwater and turning to Viktor as if to say, "You couldn't save him the way he saved you."

"Um, do you want me to leave?" Barrius's voice brings him away from these unproductive thoughts. He'd completely forgotten he was still in the room with him. For a moment, he considers sending him away but selfishly, even though he isn't the person that Viktor desires to be with the most, he also doesn't want to be alone.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barrius. You must think I'm terribly rude. I'm here as your guest and all I've done is ignore you." That wasn't really true of course. He'd been out all day fighting for a chance to even stay at the Academy. Not exactly waltzing through a field of flowers. But Barrius's face lights up, eyes shining, as though Viktor had just given him the sweetest of compliments.

"I'll go make us some tea. Hold on, I'll be right back." As he rushes out the door, Viktor sits down at the empty desk. He can hear Barrius banging around in the kitchen and eventually the whistle of the kettle. All the while, he traces the "T" emblazoned on Jayce's notebook with the pad of his thumb.

Contained within its pages is part scientific journal and part personal diary. It's messy, disorganized, and completely brilliant. Much like the man himself.

Viktor frowns as he opens the book to a random page. Formulas and drafts of machine parts made on loose leaf papers spill out. When had Jayce had the time to do all of this? And how could he not have noticed? He knows how. Ever since he'd been offered the position of Dean's Assistant, he's been trying desperately to squeeze himself into a Piltover shaped mold and it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, it was never quite the right fit. It had become an all-consuming performance. Hoping against hope that if he could just play the part perfectly, he would no longer have to fear being cast out as the interloper he was so often made to feel like.

He turns more pages. Runes, equations, and sketches of crystals fill every square inch of space. As he hears Barrius's heavy step approaching, he gently closes the book.

Barrius crashes through the door. In his hands is a tray with two steaming cups of tea and a variety of little biscuits.

"The tea was a gift from my grandma. She's from Ionia. It's supposed to have calming properties," he says as Viktor takes a sip. The tea is a bit bitter but with a pleasing, almost floral, aftertaste. Viktor hums in pleasure as he takes another sip and helps himself to a chocolate digestive.

For a while, they just sit in silence. It isn't the familiar, comfortable silences that he often shared with Jayce, but it isn't too terrible either. Viktor would be content with remaining quiet but Barrius is soon eager to fill the room with the sound of his own voice.

Viktor closes his eyes and lets the words just wash over him without really listening to what Barrius is saying in particular. It isn't until Barrius's voice trails off that he realizes he's been asked a question and is expected to answer.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat the question?" he asks sheepishly.

"I just asked if you and Jayce were close. Other than opera, me and my roommate don't really have much in common. We're just two guys who live together," he chuckles nervously.

Viktor considers the question.

"Jayce and I…" he stops, clears his throat and tries again. "Jayce and I are close." He stops again. He isn't sure he wants to share what he and Jayce have to this person who, though kind, is still practically a stranger.

"So, you're friends?" Barrius prompts.

"Something like that," is Viktor's reply.

"Oh, then…" Barrius swallows hard. Then he squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists. "Wouldyouliketogooutforcoffeesometime?"

It comes out as one word and it takes Viktor a minute to parse out what was even said.

Oh, it was like that.

He sits there, stunned. This had never really happened to him before. Usually, when it seemed like people wanted to get close to him, it was actually Jayce they were interested in.

Viktor hated it.

Jayce was naturally charismatic, so people being drawn to him was expected. And usually, Jayce embraced it. But occasionally, someone would get the bright idea to use Viktor as a way to get into Jayce's good graces. It always ended poorly, but it didn't seem to stop others from trying.

But here was Barrius sitting across from him, blushing and playing with his nails like a schoolboy. And Jayce was completely out of the picture. For half a moment, Viktor considers what it would be like to turn the tables. Would Jayce be the one crying into his pillow at night? Would it be the push Jayce needed to come swooping in like one of the princes in his book of fairytales and declare to him his undying love? For that half a moment, it feels good to be the one on the other side. But as he stares into Barrius's hopeful eyes, he knows two things: that he could never lead another person on for his own gain and that his heart already belongs entirely to another. Plus, he can't afford to even be entertaining these thoughts about this right now. Jayce needs him.

He places his cup of tea into its saucer and sighs softly.

"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid that this isn't a good time for me for…that kind of thing."

He hopes that he won't need to elaborate. And thankfully it seems that he won't. Understanding floods Barrius's face.

"You're right. Of course, you're right. You've got the trial and your friend to think of. I was being stupid. Forget that I ever asked. Please." He hides behind his hands as he says it. When he brings them back down, Viktor can see that his face is glowing red from embarrassment.

"Forget what?" Viktor jokes gently and Barrius gives a shaky laugh.

"Exactly. Here, let me take these things back to the kitchen." He grabs the empty cups and plates, stacking them neatly on the tray. "Um, goodnight Viktor. I hope everything goes well for your friend tomorrow." And with that, he whisks out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Alone again, Viktor returns to staring out of the window. The rain has stopped, but the glass is still speckled with raindrops. They catch the light of the streetlamps and glimmer like weak imitations of stars. Peering out, he tries to find the actual stars but the sky is too clouded over. Clutching at Jayce's journal, he returns to thinking.

There's something he's missing within its pages. It starts out fairly organized. Just some little asides here and there. But somewhere, starting in the past year or so, the tone shifts. The frustration and depressive spirals become more common. He traces a finger over a series of formulae that seem to recur over and over again. Something about it bothers him. Perhaps if he could just figure it out.

***

As the time to leave approaches, Viktor straightens his cravat for what feels like the hundredth time. He's wearing the only clothes that he has right now that haven't been damaged in the blast, which is his assistant's uniform. It's essentially the same as the normal Academy uniform with the exception that his cravat is white as opposed to red, to denote his relative authority. He hopes it will be good enough. In front of the mirror, he practices standing up with his back straight, trying to exude a confidence he doesn't feel. He briefly considers getting some concealer for under his eyes. After yet another night spent pouring over the journal, even his eye bags have eye bags. With one last glance at the bathroom mirror he leaves the safety of Academy Square.

The shadow cast by the tower shrouds him long before he reaches it. Erected on the highest peak in Piltover, the tower lords over the city, and by extension, Zaun. Viktor despised the place. Each and every time he needed to accompany Heimerdinger there on official duties had left him feeling humiliated. Treated like a curiosity by the other Councilors at best. At worst, like he was invisible. Going there for Jayce's trial did not make him feel more charitable towards it.

By the time he arrives his legs feel like lead. Out of habit, he turns towards the Councilor's entrance before remembering that he isn't here with Heimerdinger. Head down, he pivots and joins the gathering crowd entering through the main doors.

The Council Room, naturally, is on the highest floor overlooking the city. As he climbs the familiar staircases, his stomach lurches with every step. When he reaches the top, he leans for a moment against a wall to catch his breath and try to swallow down the acid crawling up his throat. Behind him, the crowd continues to grow, the press of bodies trapping him momentarily. Gathering all his strength, he shoves his way in as best he can and leans against a railing to await the beginning of what is sure to be the trial of the century.

The knot forming in his guts is reaching the point where he wonders if he is going to be sick where he stands, when the main doors were slammed open. Finally, finally he catches a glimpse of Jayce. He's still in his school uniform, same as Viktor, though it appears that they must have given him some access to grooming tools as his hair is styled and his face shaved. Viktor examines him closely for any sign of abuse from the hands of enforcers. He breathes a sigh of relief when he doesn't see any obvious signs such as black eyes or bruises. They parade him down the line, flanked by enforcers on every side. It seems to take them ages, but at last they reach the center of the Council's circular table.

As one, the gathered throng sway and murmur amongst themselves as they all try to get a look at the mad scientist who blew up his whole apartment. Viktor attempts to tune them out, focusing solely on Jayce. The enforcers turn Jayce to face the audience first and Viktor desperately tries to catch his eye.

Jayce keeps his head down. With a rumbling that shakes the whole room, shutters mechanically begin rising over every window so that the only light remaining was a spotlight directed on Jayce and a lumpy table covered in a white sheet. 

It was theatrical, Viktor had to grant them that.

"Ahem," Heimerdinger clears his throat. The crowd instantly goes silent. "We are gathered here today to determine the facts as to what was being conducted in the home of Jayce Talis and if he or his experiments pose any threat to public safety." He nods to the enforcers, who release Jayce from the cuffs binding his wrists and step back.

While Heimerdinger keeps speaking, laying out the facts of the case, Jayce lightly rubs at the chafing caused by the cuffs. He seems dazed as he looks around the room, squinting into the crowd under the unforgiving spotlight.

"And what do you, the accused, have to say for yourself in regards to these charges? That you were attempting to create…magic" Heimerdinger raps on the table with a tiny gavel and someone whips the cloth off of the table, revealing the mangled remains of Jayce's experiments. The crowd gasps as one as the light lands on the strange machinery and glowing blue crystals. Their mumbling and muttering is halted by another tap of Heimerdinger's gavel.

The whole room waits on pins and needles for Jayce to speak. Standing alone in the middle of the Council room, Jayce closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. Then he begins.

"It's true. I was trying to create magic." The Council members flinch and recoil while the crowd begins their low rumble anew. Jayce keeps speaking, voice growing louder, "I've seen with my own eyes the beauty of magic. It saved my life." He opens his eyes and looks earnestly around the room. "I believe that through science, we can harness magic and lead Piltover into a new age of progress. Imagine the lives that could be saved, the people who could be helped if we were able to use magic."

The Council exchange nervous glances as Jayce speaks. Shoola interrupts first.

"What do you mean, exactly?" she asks, folding her hands in front of her. "The Arcane can only be accessed by those who have been touched by it. To try to harness it through science is absurd."

Next to her, the newest Council member raises her hand to speak. Heimerdinger nods his permission to her.

"You say that only those blessed by the Arcane can harness magic," she begins, leaning forward to get a better look at Jayce. "But has anyone ever tried before? Or have we merely been content to accept that it can't be done? Perhaps we should listen to what he has to say. It may be that we are sitting on a heretofore overlooked discovery."

Bolbok interjects, "The Arcane and the subsequent Rune Wars nearly wiped out my entire race. Outside of Demacia, Piltover is the next largest sanctuary free of magic. " He adjusts the knobs around his mouth, his voice rumbling from his mechanical chest with a groan and a hiss. "It's a curse upon Runeterra. I will not allow it to taint Piltover. He must be banished at once!"

"I hear you, Bolbok," Heimerdinger soothes, "But we mustn't be hasty."

"But why?" Jayce interjects. "Why should we fear it when we can master it? Imagine the good we could do. There are people who could benefit from it living in Piltover, in the Undercity." He paces in a tight circle, appealing to the gathered audience. They lean towards him, taken in by his words.

"Why don't we allow our first character witness to take the stand?" Cassandra Kiramman says. Viktor stands up straighter, expecting the spotlight to be turned on him.

Instead, it's Ximena Talis who is illuminated.

She walks tremulously to stand in the center of the table a couple of feet away from her son and the mangled equipment. Rather than seeming relieved, Jayce looks like he might throw up.

"My son is not well," she begins, voice wavering with emotion. She rubs her hands together in a nervous motion as Jayce hangs his head. "Please, he doesn't mean any harm but he's been obsessed with magic since he was a child. I failed as a parent by not tamping this interest of his down. I thought it was just a harmless phase or a passing interest. But I see now that I was wrong." She looks to Jayce, who continues to hang his head. "But I promise, if you show leniency, I will make sure that never does anything like this again."

Both Ximena's and Jayce's eyes are wet by the time she finishes speaking, though obviously for very different reasons. Jayce is working his jaw and his hands are so tightly clenched that Viktor would not be at all surprised if he had broken the skin with his nails. His mother, meanwhile, looks as though she may pass out. She keeps worrying her hands over and over again.

The Council murmurs amongst themselves, too quietly for Viktor to hear clearly. Heimerdinger stands and hits the table once more with this gavel.

"I believe we have one more character witness to hear from before we can begin deliberations."

And with that, the spotlight hits Viktor.

He blinks stupidly into the light for a few seconds before he gathers himself enough to separate from the crowd and join the Talis's in the center of the room. His cane tapping the floor echoes throughout the space as he makes his way between the rows of eyes staring out at him from the dark. It feels as though the longer he walks, the further he still has to go. His destination always just out of reach.

Then in a blink of an eye, he's there. Standing next to Jayce. Jayce, who won't meet his eyes, looks utterly broken by the proceedings. Shoulders slumped, he stands like he's trying to make himself seems smaller and less "dangerous". Viktor wishes he could reach out to him. To reassure him that he still has at least one person still on his side. But he can't. He knows he can't. Instead, he tries to stand tall for Jayce as he turns to face the Council.

They stare down at him as though he is a stranger. Not even a glimmer of recognition from them. Bolbok is the one to question him first.

"Who are you in relation to the accused?" comes his rattling, hissing voice.

Viktor stands up straighter and replies, "I'm his friend, Councilor."

The change in atmosphere is immediate. Salo's simpering voice floats down to him with the next question, his mouth pulled down into a frown of distaste.

"So, were you aware of what your friend was doing? How many lives he could have ruined with this so-called "Hextech" of his?"

"I wasn't," Viktor admits. "But Jayce is an honorable man who has only ever had the best of intentions when it comes to—" He's cut off by the Council arguing loudly with each other.

"How long have you known the accused?" Cassandra asks him, leaning forward onto her elbows and glancing at him with a sharp curiousness. Her eyes are nearly identical to that of her daughter's.

"Since childhood," he answers. Before he can add more Salo cuts him off.

"So he's biased. Is that why you wanted him to testify, Cassandra? So he could make your little pet project look better?"

"Oh, and his mother isn't?" she sharply retorts. "We all know your ilk probably coached her into saying what you want to hear."

Next to him, Ximena trembles. Her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

"I'd like to hear more from the witness," Mel says. She eyes Viktor curiously. "You say you've known the accused since childhood. And you both attend the Academy. How can we be sure that you weren't an accessory?"

"He's been vetted by both the Academy board and myself," Heimerdinger answers. "We have no reason to believe that my assistant knew anything about the experiments."

Hoskel begins, "But how can we be sure—"

"Please," Jayce speaks up, causing the Council and the room to fall quiet. "The experiments were mine, and mine alone. I did not involve Viktor in them in any way and he had no prior knowledge of them. Just as my interest in magic was my own. I am willing to accept any judgment you may have against me so long as you leave Viktor out of it."

Their eyes briefly meet. In them, Viktor can see all the desperation and fear that Jayce has been trying to suppress. With a dawning realization, he understands that this fear is for Viktor himself. Jayce is looking at him like all his worst nightmares are becoming reality in front of his very eyes. He turns to Ximena who is still standing next to him. She hasn't stopped her nervous hand wringing since the trial began. If anything, she's only rubbing at them harder after Jayce's speech and mouthing something under her breath.

Viktor turns back to the Council. Their arguing starts anew, even louder and angrier than before. Just as Viktor is beginning to think that they have forgotten why they are even here, Heimerdinger slams his gavel down and the room descends into silence.

"Councilors, please. This is unseemly. If you don't have any more questions for the character witnesses, I suggest we begin the sentencing."

"My vote is for Stillwater," Salo drawls. Hoskel nods in agreement next to him.

"I demand banishment from Piltover," comes Bolbok. "I won't accept anything less."

"Let's not be rash," Shoola says. "I believe that banishment and Stillwater should be last resorts."

"I agree," Cassandra adds smoothly. "I believe expulsion from the Academy to be a fitting punishment."

"Hear, hear," chirps Heimerdinger. "Expulsion and having his degrees stripped from him should be quite enough."

"But how can we be assured that he won't try to resume his experiments again?" counters Bolbok. Next to him, Hoskel and Salo nod along in agreement.

"How about he be placed in the care of his mother?" Mel suggests. "Surely she would have both his best interests at heart and be able to prevent him from continuing any experimentation."

"All in favor?" Heimerdinger prompts, raising his own hand. Slowly, the others around the table lift their hands until only Bolbok and Salo remain, arms stubbornly at their sides. "I believe that we have the majority. Jayce Talis will hereby be expelled from the Academy and the degrees that he has earned there retroactively voided. He shall be placed into the care of his mother and his experiments destroyed at dawn." He slams the gavel down for the last time.

Jayce pales as he says this. His hands, folded in front of his body as though he were still cuffed, clench as he has to listen to his fate being decided as though he wasn't even in the room.

Viktor remains frozen as Jayce and his mother are ushered out of the room and the crowd begins to disperse. Heimerdinger calls him over from where he still stands in the middle of the room.

“You were an excellent witness, my boy,” he begins with cheer. Viktor just stares at him in disbelief. Heimerdinger's mustache droops. “I am sorry about your friend. I know the two of you were close. Still, once this ‘magic’ has been destroyed we can put this whole nasty business behind us.” He pats Viktor on the back. “I’ll trust you to make sure it all gets locked up for safe keeping in the meantime.” Then he walks quickly away to catch up with the rest of the Council who are now debating where they should all go for lunch with the same vigor as they had Jayce's fate. Numbly, Viktor orders Jayce’s work to be locked in Heimerdinger’s lab to a passing enforcer.

He all but flees the Tower. Outside, the crowd is still milling about, discussing their thoughts and theories about the proceedings. Viktor pushes his way through them as he searches for Jayce. He needs to speak to him. To tell him he has the journal and that he understands. But every face that turns to him in surprise or annoyance is not the one he's looking for. It isn't until he's made it to the sidewalk that he sees them entering a carriage.

"Jayce!" he calls out, "Jayce, wait a moment!"

He can see Jayce raise his head, looking around for the source of his cries. But the coachman taps him on the shoulder and Jayce resumes getting into the carriage, followed by his mother.

He needs to get the journal. If he brings Jayce the journal and have a talk. A real talk. He can still fix this.

***

He storms into Barrius' dorm room, startling the young man from where he lounges on one of the low couches.

"Um, is everything ok?" he asks, closing the book he'd been reading. Viktor doesn't bother to answer. He steps into his own room and grabs the journal from off the bed, tucking it close to his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Barrius. I need to go and I'm not sure when I'll be back. Thank you for your hospitality."

With that, he takes his leave, rushing through the Academy courtyard and out onto the main streets of Piltover. After checking his pockets for his coin purse, he flags down a passing carriage and gives them the address.

"Please, drive quickly."

"Boy, you're sure in a hurry. A lot at stake?" the driver chuckles as he cranks the carriage engine over.

"Yes," he grips his cane tightly as his mouth forms into a thin line of determination, "Everything."

Chapter Text

Chapter Eleven

Breakthrough

The carriage screeches to a halt in front of the Talis house. Before the wheels have even completed their stop, Viktor is tumbling out of the cabin and racing through the front garden and up the stoop. He knocks once before opening the door.

"Jayce? Mijo, is that you?" Rounding the corner, skirts in hand, Ximena Talis races towards him.

"Oh, Viktor!" she cries and pulls him to her chest in a tight embrace that he returns. She wipes her eyes as she releases him. "Viktor, my dear, have you seen Jayce? Is he with you?"

"He's not here?" Viktor grips her forearms tightly, not trusting himself to remain steady on his feet. "Where is he? I need to speak with him urgently."

Ximena's eyes well with tears again. "Come, follow me. I have something for you."

He trails her up the stairs, wondering what she could possibly have to give him. She turns into Jayce's room and sits down heavily on the bed. For a moment, she looks like the strong, proud woman she had always presented herself to be in front of him. Back straight and shoulders pulled upright. Then she slumps forward and puts her head in her hands and the frightened mother from the trial returns. She looks distressingly like her son at this moment.

Viktor enters cautiously behind her. Jayce's room is like a time-capsule, with everything exactly as he remembered it. The walls are still covered in posters about magic, and little geodes and crystals line just about every square inch of free space. Even his desk has remained untouched. On the top shelf, the paddle boat Jayce had made him sits proudly alongside framed copies Jayce's childish drawings, the most prominent of which is the two of them playing together along the river banks dressed as wizards.

Viktor finds that he can't look at them right now. Instead he walks towards the window and peers out. Ominous dark clouds are starting to gather overhead. He frowns up at them.

"We had a…disagreement," Ximena says, her head still in her hands. Startled, Viktor turns to look at her. "He was upset with me for what I said during the trial. He said that I didn't understand what his research meant to him. That without it, his life is over." She takes a shuddery breath and raises her head. "He left before we could stop him. I've already sent Martha and Helene out to search for him." She reaches into her skirt pocket."I hoped he may have gone to find you but…" She holds out her hand. Nestled in her palm, Jayce's runestone glitters in the fading light. His heart drops.

Jayce has never spent a second without that runestone around his neck in all the years Viktor has known him. Outside, a low rumble of thunder sounds as he plucks the runestone from her hand. It feels cold and surprisingly heavy in his hand. He squeezes the stone tightly in his fist.

"I only ever wanted to protect him," Ximena whispers tearfully. "And I hurt him instead."

"Don't worry," Viktor stands up straighter, "I'm going to find him. Please, stay here." He stops her as she tries to rise. "If he comes back, send me a message."

***

Searching for Jayce proves to be easier said than done.

He first tried all the usual places that Jayce was known to go when he wanted to be alone. But he wasn't at his favorite cafe, library, the labs, or even the Academy tower. As he descends the tower steps, the first drops of rain start to fall. He needs to rethink his strategy. It's quite possible that Jayce wasn't around the Academy at all.

He thinks about the people he could possibly have gone to, other than himself. Jayce was still on good terms with Darius and Ren. Somehow their friendship had survived the fiasco that had been Ren and Jayce's short-lived love life. It helped that almost immediately afterwards, Darius and Ren had started dating and have been a couple ever since. Perhaps one of them could have taken Jayce to one of the local bars. It hadn't entirely escaped Viktor's notice just how much Jayce drank when he was feeling some kind of way. And then there was the Kiramman girl. Those two seemed to have a close relationship. Yes, the more he thinks about it, the more he can see Jayce going to appeal to the Kirammans, and Caitlyn in particular. The problem being that he didn't exactly run in the same circles as the Kirammans did. Even if he could get into the gated community that basically was Upper Piltover, he'd be as useless as a fish out of water. With a sigh, he decides to check the bars.

By the time he's finished, the rain is coming down in sheets and he's still only wearing his assistant's uniform. Turning up his collar against the rain and tucking the journal under his vest, he once again considers his options. He can either go back to the Talis house and hope that Jayce will return, or continue his search. Stepping out onto the street, he braces himself for the jostling of annoyed pedestrians. He manages to snatch up a newspaper to try to take shelter under. The headline blares something tasteless about the trial and the grainy picture shows his blown up apartment.

He stops short. Bringing the newspaper up to his nose, he squints at the photo, even as the ink smudges and bleeds in the rain. Behind him, people bump into him and someone shouts at him to "get a move on" as they try to avoid the wet. He ignores them. Something about the picture sparks a memory.

Janna, I'm an idiot. He checks his coin purse once more and flags down a carriage for the last time.

During the entire trip back to the Academy, one vision plays on repeat in his mind. The strange night where he'd found Jayce outside alone on the balcony. He'd thought Jayce was tired. Perhaps frustrated by all the red tape, just as he was. But there was something about the way he had been leaning over the railing. Something terrible about it. The runestone thrums in his hand the closer he gets to their apartment, almost as if it was reflecting the distress of its owner.

Please Jayce, just wait for me a little longer.

***

Being back in the apartment building feels like an invasion of sorts. As though he's re-opening a wound that has only just been closed. The hallways are dark and silent. As Viktor climbs the endless set of stairways, he wonders if all the other residences have been evacuated. He tries to enter their flat quietly, only for the front door to creak, low and agonizingly drawn out. He winces as the last of the noise slowly dissipates back into eerie stillness. Holding his breath, he waits for any sign of life. But nothing else… no one else… stirs.

As his eyes adjust to the darkness of the room however, he can see fresh tracks in the dust. Someone was here. Carefully, he follows them into the center of the apartment and then towards where the balcony once stood. His cane makes a small echoing tap with each step. He slows his pace, trying not to startle whoever is also in the flat with him. Looking up, he sees a familiar form silhouetted against the opening in the wall.

He almost collapses under the weight of pure relief that floods him. Jayce is here. He's here and he's safe. Viktor drinks in the sight of him. Then his blood runs cold. The way that Jayce is standing over the ledge, still and silent, is all too familiar. For what feels like ages, they remain frozen, with Jayce at the edge of the precipice and Viktor behind him. Then, Jayce sways forward with a sigh.

Running purely on instinct Viktor clears his throat and says in what he hopes is a steady tone, “Am I interrupting?”

Jayce startles and whirls around. Viktor notes that he doesn't step away from the ledge though. 

“Viktor!" he gasps. "What…what are you doing here?" Shame and guilt floods his face as he gapes at Viktor.

"I was looking for you. I wanted to talk to you about your theory."

Viktor picks his way across the room to stand next to Jayce. Jayce never takes his eyes off of him and Viktor can feel the weight of his stare as he takes in a deep breath and looks up at the sky. The rain has finally stopped and the moon is starting to peek through the clouds. The cool night air makes him shiver a little as they stand side by side. Jayce soon breaks the silence.

“It's not a theory," Jayce begins, clenching his fists by his side. "I've seen what magic can do. The lives it could save." He stares down at the street below. "They didn't believe me."

“Do you remember the day we met?” Viktor asks. Jayce nods and Viktor continues, “On that day, I believed that the most I could hope for in life was to work in a factory. Maybe if I was lucky, I’d have enough spare parts saved up to work on little inventions here and there. But then you came along." He grins up at Jayce, who is looking at Viktor, wide-eyed. "You inspired me, made me think that  I could dare to dream of more.” He takes the runestone necklace out of his pocket, studying it under the moonlight for a moment before holding it out invitingly to Jayce. For a moment, Viktor finds himself lost in Jayce's gaze. Then Jayce takes the necklace from him. “This Hextech dream of yours has the real potential to help people, Jayce. Can you imagine what could be achieved by combining magic and technology?”

“No, it won't,” Jayce half whispers, holding the runestone in a shaky grasp. "I couldn't get it to work right."

“That’s where I come in,” Viktor says. He slips the notebook out from under his vest and flips it open.

“Where did you get that?” Jayce demands. Viktor just shrugs.

“Does it matter? What matters is what’s inside,” he flips to the page of formulae that Jayce has clearly been stuck on.                                                                                                                 

Crossing the room, he flicks on his desk lamp then carries it over to the remains of one of the blackboards. Then he begins searching around on the ground. After a few seconds of confused staring, Jayce joins him in looking for chalk. With a triumphant grin, Jayce holds a piece out to Viktor, who copies out the formula.

"Here is what you have currently. But what if…" he begins adding lines of formula underneath. Jayce stares at his additions wide-eyed for a second.

"That's…" He stands, walking closer to the board. "That's brilliant."

Viktor turns away to hide his reddening cheeks. He crosses back across the room to where their kitchenette once stood. He hasn't eaten anything since before the trial, and even then, he had been so nervous that he could only pick at his porridge and toast. Fumbling in the cabinets, he pulls out a jar of pickles that he always had on hand. Then he finds some rohhlik in the overturned breadbox and places some on a chipped plate before scrounging around for the kettle.

"Everything ok over there, V?" Jayce calls over to him, obviously confused as to what is taking Viktor so long.

"Mm, quite alright. But, I have a feeling that this will be a long night so I thought refreshments might be in order. Any requests?" The tea kettle is dented, but still perfectly functional. He refills it with water and searches for unbroken cups and the coffee.

"No, I'm ok. I'll just have whatever you're having."

Jayce seems torn between coming to help him or staying put. The kettle chooses that moment to start whistling shrilly. Expertly, Viktor pours the water over the coffee filter and into the waiting cups below. He doesn't really enjoy black coffee, but he doesn't trust that the milk has survived the accident and he needs something stronger than tea. He balances the steaming mugs on the plate and, with his cane hooked on one elbow, arrives back with the makeshift snacks. Jayce hurriedly rights an end table for Viktor to place the plate down upon.

"Wait," Jayce has turned his attention back to the equation, his eyes scanning the board. "Have you factored in the calibration? The crystals are…unstable." Sheepishly, he gestures to the rubble they are currently standing in.

"That's the thing," Viktor says, crunching down on a pickle before washing it down with a sip of coffee. Not the tastiest food combo he's ever created, but then again, he's never exactly been picky. "While it would appear that you would need to suppress the output actually—" He starts to break down the runic sequence.

"Then that means—"

"Exactly, so then if you—"

"But have you considered—"

"Of course! Hand me the—yes, thank you."

It was as if they were in perfect sync. The way they used to be as children, where they barely even have to speak, it's like the other just knows what to do.

"The crystal's resonance stabilizes itself," Jayce finally finishes from where he's resting in the same chair he was questioned on days before.

“Exactly!" Viktor confirms. "The crystals will only stabilize at high frequencies,” he underlines the formula with his chalk, “Which means you have to—”

“Crank it!” Jayce interjects excitedly. 

Viktor stares at him in surprise, then chuckles to himself. It was almost unbelievable to him that hours ago, he had found Jayce on the brink of despair.

“Yes,” he repeats, “You have to ‘crank it’.”

“So, it works!” Jayce stands, his fingers hover reverently over the equations.

“Eh, in theory,” Viktor replies, tapping the chalk on his chin. “Which is why it would be good to test it.”

At that, Jayce wilts. “You know as well as I do that they confiscated all my lab equipment." He sinks back down, head in hands.

“Yes, it's locked away in Heimerdinger’s lab,” Viktor murmurs. Then he pulls out his set of keys. 

“What! No! V, we can't!” Jayce says, jumping up in alarm.

“Oh nonsense,” Viktor gives Jayce a sly grin, “You know as well as I do that when you're going to change the world, you don't ask for permission.”

He turns towards the door, ready to put his plan into action, when Jayce's hand on his arm stops him.

"Wait," he says, "Viktor, I want you to think about this."

"What is there to think about? I have the keys to the lab and we need to test this."

"But if you do this with me, I can't protect you if something goes wrong." Jayce's beautiful gold eyes look almost green in the lamplight. "I never wanted you to pay for my mistakes. When they brought you in at the trial I thought…I thought that—"

Viktor presses his hand up against Jayce's mouth. Stopping him from saying whatever was going to come next.

"Jayce, let us make one thing clear going forward. I am here because I believe in Hextech and the good that it can do, and I believe in you." Jayce's eyes somehow grow even wider. Viktor can feel his lips parting underneath his hand as though he is about to add something else, so he hurries on. "Whatever happens going forward, we will face it together. We made a promise, remember?"

Jayce nods as he gently removes Viktor's hand from his face.

"You're right. Together?"

"Yes, together."

***

Two figures walk the rain-slicked streets in a way that's clearly meant to be inconspicuous. Something about the way they move, the practiced nonchalance, the stiffness in which they carry themselves. It's a dead give away that they are doing something they shouldn't. They look around nervously as they traverse the streets towards the Academy Square. If anyone had actually been there to notice them, they might actually have been in some trouble. Fortune seems to be on their side this night. As they usher each other through the bars of the gate, they have yet to meet any obstacle.

The Academy at night is a completely different place than it is during the day. No students just milling about or racing to and from class. No harried professors flying through the halls leaving a trail of ungraded tests behind them. Only the occasional nightwatchman stalks the grounds, ready to escort any students who have lost their sense of time in the library or labs back to their rooms.

Fortunately for them, Viktor still remembers the rounds they used to take from his time living as a stowaway on campus.

"Ok, we have ten minutes until the next guard arrives," he whispers over his shoulder to Jayce. "If we hurry, we can make it to the next floor without meeting anyone."

"How do you know all this?" Jayce hisses back, following Viktor's lead as they sneak through the halls.

"The couches here are not very comfortable." He can almost feel Jayce's puzzlement, then his understanding as they duck behind another potted plant.

"That does make sense," he murmurs as Viktor peers between the leaves.

They slip up the stairs to the next floor. Only one remains. Jayce looks ready to faint on the spot as they wait in the shadows for the guard to pass. Viktor feels a thrum of nervous energy coursing through his veins as the guard pauses at the steps, his flashlight sweeping around in a wide arc. Holding their breath, they stand still as statues as the guard yawns and finally starts down the staircase.

"Phew," Jayce exhales as the light vanishes. Viktor just silently signals for him to continue up the next flight of stairs.

By the time they finally crouch in front of Heimerdinger's door, Viktor is sorely regretting his last minute decision to leave his brace behind at the flat. His leg trembles as he kneels in front of the lock and it's only the thrill of potential scientific discovery that is keeping the pain in check. He hands Jayce the flashlight and fumbles for the keys.

"Here goes nothing," he mutters, slipping the first key into the lock.

It clicks smoothly. The two exchange nervous grins.

“So far, so good—” Viktor starts before a blinding light illuminates the both of them. Viktor stares into the light for a couple of seconds too long while his brain tries desperately comprehend what he is seeing. Jayce, meanwhile, starts stammering platitudes behind him. 

“Councilor Medarda, it’s so, uh, good to see you?” Jayce offers, then winces.

“Wait a minute, this isn’t my bedroom? How could I have…” Viktor looks at the keys and the door as if it’s his first time ever seeing them. Nervously, he glances back over at the Councilor before giving up the ruse entirely. She seems amused at least.

"Well, who do we have here?" she muses. "You must have a lot of faith in this 'Hextech' of yours to show your face back here."

“Please, you have to give us a chance,” Jayce begs, “We’ve had a breakthrough. We can make it work this time.”

“And why, exactly, should I let you do that?” she retorts, but with that hungry gleam in her eye again. “After all, Heimerdinger made it very clear that magic was a danger to Piltover. By all rights, I should call the enforcers and have you arrested. Unless you have a good reason why I shouldn't.”

Viktor interjects, “Heimerdinger will see the potential once we get it to work.” Councilor Medarda turns to address him now for the first time.

“I recognize you…you’re the Dean’s assistant aren’t you?” A mixture of curiosity and amusement glitters in her green eyes.

“No,” Jayce cuts her off, “He's my partner." He throws a protective arm over Viktor's shoulders. It takes all Viktor's willpower not to smirk at the Councilor. Partner. Jayce had said it so easily too. As though it was natural. It sends a small, smug thrill through him. Councilor Medarda merely raises an eyebrow at this declaration. She considers the two of them for a minute. Then she smiles warmly at Jayce.

“I can make sure you're undisturbed until dawn. That should give you enough time to impress me. Otherwise, I suggest you pack your bags,” she says, winking at Jayce before sweeping back down the hallway.

Jayce stares after her with an undeniably love struck look as his arm slips from around Viktor's shoulders. And just like that, reality crashes back onto Viktor. It wasn't fair. Jayce was finally back. Finally with him. For the first time in at least a year, they are on the same page.

But people were drawn to Jayce. He’s handsome, smart, and charmingly earnest. How many nights Viktor has stewed alone while Jayce has been on some date or other, he couldn’t count. The only bright side was that these relationships never lasted more than a week or two. Jayce would be upset for a few days, crying on Viktor’s shoulder, then he would be back to normal.

But Councilor Medarda wasn’t just a fellow student. She was beautiful, rich, powerful and clearly had taken an interest in Jayce. She’s everything he isn’t. Just another reminder of how foolish his heart is. Perhaps, he should have taken Barrius up on that offer of coffee after all. He tries, he really does, but he can't quite keep the hurt out of his face as he resumes unlocking the overly-complicated door.

But he has something that the Councilor and all the others don't. He squeezes his fist tightly to hide the tiny scar.

"What do you think she was doing here?" Jayce asks, voice dreamy.

"Don't know," he snaps. Don't care either, he thinks. He fits the next key in the lock."Let's take apart an engine," he mutters to himself as a way to make himself feel better. He doesn't expect Jayce to hear, or even notice what was said. Instead, Jayce's hand descends upon his shoulder, forcing him to turn around.

"Viktor," he begins, eyes filled with concern. "We're here to fix Hextech, right?"

"Hm? Oh, yes. Don't worry about it. Inside joke," Viktor dismisses Jayce's concerns with a wave of his hand. He turns the final key and the massive door starts to swing open. He makes an "after you" gesture with his arm. "I believe you should have the honor."

"Don't be ridiculous," Jayce laughs. "We're partners, remember?"

***

As soon as they enter, all thoughts of jealousy over Councilor Medarda exits his head. Heimerdinger's lab is disorientating. Shelves stacked upon shelves of rare chemicals, beakers and bunsen burners, and books, usually authored by the Yordle himself, create a crowded feeling, despite the vastness of the space. Inventions the professor was working on were also scattered over every workspace. While Viktor struggles to find the light switch, Jayce begins searching in the mess for his equipment. They both find their respective items at the same time, blinking up as the harsh light floods the room. Viktor walks slowly to the center of the lab, wincing a bit as his foot begins to drag. He tries to compensate by leaning more heavily on his cane, wincing again as pain shoots up his wrist. He makes it to one of the work tables and after assessing it, clears it for them to continue their experiments. Jayce, meanwhile, is inspecting each piece of equipment carefully for signs of damage.

"The HCSC is a little dented from the blast, but I think—" he wrenches one of the metal bars straight in a move that makes Viktor's mouth water, "—That I can make it work." He joins Viktor at the work table, equipment in tow.

"Let's go over the calculations one more time," Viktor suggests, both as a way to get his heart rate back under control and to ensure they don't accidentally blow themselves up.

He isn't keen on dying tonight.

Jayce works on fixing his contraption, making the additions that they had discussed back in the flat, while Viktor works the numbers another three times.

Once Viktor’s sure everything is ready he snaps the book shut and declares, “And now, it’s time to crank it.” He grins at Jayce, who only furrows his brow in alarm.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks as he prepares to place the crystal in the machine. Viktor shrugs.

Jayce takes a deep breath, then drops the gem into the center of the vibrating device. The crystal starts glowing and spinning wildly.

"It's going to blow! V, we need to get out of here!" Jayce yells over the screeching of the crystal.

“It will stabilize. It just needs a little more time—” As if on cue, there’s a banging outside the lab.

“Enforcers! Open the door now!” 

Viktor and Jayce exchange a panicked look before racing to bar the door with anything they can get their hands on. Jayce shoves a heavy, oak chair in front of the door while Viktor slots his cane through the handles. Then they race back to where the crystal is still violently whirling and sparking.

“Come on…come on…” Jayce pleads with the gem. The pounding on the door grows more forceful. Viktor watches nervously as it starts to splinter from the battering ram.

“They’re almost through, no pressure!” calls Viktor over the cacophony of the pounding at the door and the mechanical grinding from the gem.

“That sounds like pressure!” Jayce shrieks.

The next two event occur simultaneously: the enforcers break through the door just as the crystal stabilizes. The whole lab is bathed in a soft blue light.

With a gasp, Viktor is lifted gently into the air, floating over the confused enforcers gathering below him. He can't believe his eyes. Looking up, he sees Jayce floating serenely as well. He laughs and does a flip through the air. Smiling wide, Viktor tries to imitate Jayce, flipping effortlessly through the air.

So this was what magic felt like. Weightless, he flips again, bumping into some books and papers that have risen with them. Jayce tries paddling through the air, but can't keep a straight face as he meets Viktor's eyes.

Viktor wishes he could bottle this moment up forever.

Below them, Heimerdinger has entered behind the enforcers and is staring up at them in awe. 

“By the gods…it works…” the professor murmurs before calling out, “Will the two of you stop hovering?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know how to do that, sir,” Viktor calls back in amusement. He and Jayce were now slowly circling the humming core, grinning at each other like fools.

Still laughing, Jayce pushes one of the floating gears through the magic core, it warps and Viktor feels a jolt in the fabric of reality itself. Then, the gear re-emerges from the other side, drifting towards him. Reverently, he reaches out a hand and the little gear slips onto his finger like a ring. In shock, he starts to laugh as he admires his makeshift ring.

"Why, Mr. Talis," he teases. "This is quite the elaborate proposal."

Jayce just glides closer. "We did it," he whispers in awe, holding out his hand for Viktor to take. Viktor takes it and squeezes tightly.

Jayce had always told him that magic was beautiful. And it was true. But to Viktor, it didn't even begin to compare to how Jayce looked in this moment.

He tucks the image away as yet another treasured memory.

Slowly, ever so slowly, the magic starts to fade until Jayce and Viktor are gently deposited back onto the ground. Heimerdinger rushes up to them immediately.

"My boys, I can't believe what I've just seen. Magic, but controllable through technology." He looks over Jayce's invention with new appreciation. "The possibilities this opens up are practically endless! Of course, for the safety of the public, the Council will need to enact strick control to make sure it's used wisely."

Jayce is still too giddy from success to do more than nod along to whatever Heimerdinger is saying. Viktor leans against the worktable that Hextech is currently resting on. As the enforcers mill about aimlessly, he looks for where his cane has ended up. Exhaustion is starting to catch up to him now that all the excitement is over. He finally spots it, scattered in pieces on the floor. Wearily, he slumps back against the table. His body has decided to remind him that he has basically been awake for the past two days running on pure stress and adrenaline. Outside, the first light of dawn starts to illuminate the lab through the huge stained glass windows.

Councilor Medarda appears again at the doorway, staring in wonder at the aftermath that the magic has left in the lab. Entering the lab, she smiles first at Jayce, then Viktor knowingly, as if she had never had any doubt that they would succeed. 

“I see that I made a good bet,” she says, coming over to where Jayce has extricated himself from Heimerdinger's lecture.

“Yeah, you did,” Jayce says, pride flooding his face. It falters a bit as he searches the room for something before lighting up again as he spots Viktor from where he's still slumped over the table. He races over and tucks an arm under Viktor's shoulders, then threads Viktor's arm over his own shoulders to help lift him upright.

"Where's your—" Jayce starts to whisper.

"In pieces," Viktor cuts him off, biting back a groan.

Councilor Medarda inspects the crystal with interest a bit longer before turning her attention back to the two young men. 

“If you ever are in need of any investors, you know where to find me.” She nods to Jayce before gliding gracefully out of the room.

"Well, my boys," Heimerdinger claps Viktor on the back. "I must say, you two really know how to keep this old Yordle on his toes." He chuckles to himself. "I never believed that it would be possible to separate magic from the control of mages through…science. You boys ought to be proud." He looks around the lab, clearly still in awe of what he had just witnessed. "You can safely consider your charges revoked," he says to Jayce. Jayce grins at him. His cheeks are going to be sore in the morning, Viktor thinks. "And Viktor," Heimerdinger turns his attention back to him. He tries to straighten in Jayce's arms and look more like the professional assistant that he is supposed to be. "I understand from Jayce that you've had a bit of a promotion." The professor's eyes twinkle as he says it.

Viktor nods before clearing his voice and answering, "Eh, yes. I'm a partner in Hextech going forward."

"I'm happy for you, Viktor. Although, I must say that, rather selfishly, I wish I could keep you on as an assistant. Under your watch, the Academy has run more smoothly than it has in years. Not to mention your work for the robotics department. Yes, it will be sad to lose you." Jayce nudges him and flashes him a smile and a look filled with such tenderness and pride that Viktor has to look away in embarressment. Heimerdinger snaps his fingers and all the remaining enforcers begin filing out. The professor starts to follow them before pausing.

"And boys," Heimerdinger turns to them one final time. They both straighten. "I do expect the both of you to have this lab cleaned up and back into order tomorrow." Then he leaves. Finally, it is just Jayce and Viktor alone.

“Come on, let’s go home,” Jayce gives his shoulders a squeeze, “Mom isn't going to believe this.”

"Yes, that sounds good," he agrees. But as they start to make their way across the lab, he can't keep his leg from trembling from even the slightest weight being put on it.

"Shit, Vik. Are you alright?" Eyes full of concern, Jayce starts fluttering around him, trying to figure out the best way to help without causing further discomfort. "I could carry you. Here, get on my back."

“Jayce, please stop,” Viktor says wearily, “Let’s just go home.”

“But what about your leg?”

“I’ll be fine,” he says, a bit sharper than he intends. His shoulders sag. “I’m sorry Jayce. This is a happy moment for us. Let’s just leave and we can figure it out as we go.” Jayce pouts at him, then he sighs.

“I can see you’re going to be stubborn about this. Fine, let’s go. But first thing tomorrow morning I’m going to the forge to make you a new cane.” Viktor smiles at this.

“That is acceptable.” He takes another step. This is going to be a long walk.

Chapter Text

Chapter Twelve

Boys of Progress

Mid Town is just beginning to wake as Jayce and Viktor carefully pick their way home. The sun cautiously peeks over the towers and turrets, ushering the morning mists away. Shopkeepers begin opening their doors for business, a simple turn of a sign in the window indicating that the day has begun. Giggling children skip to school while doting parents call out their farewells and take cares. Birds begin their fearsome battles for territory disguised as beautiful song and the alley cats curl up for naps in sunbeams after a busy night on the prowl. As the two scientists continue their stumbling journey, the clock-tower bells ring out, rousing the rest of Piltover from its slumber. As the last of the bell chimes echos through the valley, another sort of ringing is in Jayce's ear. He can barely contain the exhilaration rising in his chest, threatening to burst forth from his lips at any moment.

It worked.

It worked.

He had always, deep down, known that it was possible. All those years of studying in secret and risking his very livelihood hadn't been for naught. And the reason it had been a success is currently leaning heavily against him, half asleep on his feet.

"Psst, Vik. How're you holding up?" he asks, squeezing Viktor gently, his hand still resting on his waist.

"Hmm?" Viktor raises his head drowsily. "Just thinking."

"About what?" Jayce asks, mostly to keep Viktor talking and awake. He readjusts their position so that Viktor is resting his weight on his good leg a bit easier. They take a few more steps before Viktor answers.

"I was thinking about what tonight means for us going forward. The good that we will be able to do for the Undercity, but also the changes that will be made in our lives." He sighs and leans more of his weight against Jayce's shoulders. "We can never go back to the way things were, that's the price of progress," Viktor finishes solemnly. Then adds, "And also how I need to get my things back from Barrius."

Jayce stops short.

"Your things from Barrius? Why would he have your things?" Jayce is aghast even as Viktor chuckles quietly next to him.

"I was staying with him because you blew up our apartment, remember? And he's quite kind. He even invited me to have coffee with him sometime." Viktor looks up at Jayce slyly. Clearly, he's finding this amusing.

"No. Absolutely not. Please tell me you didn't agree to have coffee with him," he begs. Viktor shrugs noncommittally. "V, please. You can do so much better than Barrius." Even saying the name feels wrong to him. The only name worse would be Dmitri.

"I didn't say yes."

"Good," Jayce grumbles. "And I'll go with you to get your things. I don't want you alone with that creep any longer."

"Fine, fine," Viktor says, still amused. They lapse into silence again for a bit.

Finally, the Talis house, with its rosy windows and tidy front garden, comes into view. Just the day before, it had felt like a prison to Jayce. Now, he has never been so grateful to walk up the uneven stone path to the slightly rusted iron gate. Viktor was leaning on him more and more as they neared the stoop.

"Do you mind if I sit down? Just…just for a moment," Viktor asks, his voice strained.

"We only have a few more steps. Do you want me to carry you?" Jayce looks from the door to Viktor. Viktor has suddenly grown very pale. Alarmed, Jayce helps lower him down to the first steps of the stoop.

"Wait here for a moment, let me just get my mom."

Viktor nods up at him weakly, his face still ghostly. "I'm alright. I just need to rest."

Jayce doesn't bother to even knock. Flinging the door open wide he calls out, "Mom! Mom, are you in there?"

He takes a step inside, just in time to see his mother emerging from the sitting room. Her eyes are red with weeping and it's obvious she hadn't slept last night.

"Jayce, mijo," she sobs, enveloping him in her arms. "I thought…I thought that you…"

"I'm sorry, mom. I'm so, so sorry," he whispers. He holds her close, taking in the familiar scent of her perfume. Warm, with slight notes of citrus. As though she had just been walking through an orange grove. Guilt floods him. How could he have considered hurting her so deeply just hours before? Hurting all his loved ones in that way. As he holds her, he makes a vow to himself that never again would his mom spend nights awake worrying about whether her son has taken his own life. Then he remembers himself.

"Wait, we need to check on Viktor." He dashes back outside, his mother on his heels.

Viktor is curled in a ball, fast asleep. His head rests in the crook of his elbow and Jayce could swear he heard soft snoring. Gently, Jayce kneels and shakes Viktor’s shoulder to wake him. He doesn’t stir.

"Hey, V? Are you alright?"

If anything, the snoring only grows louder. Jayce carefully tilts Viktor's head away from his elbow to feel his forehead. No fever, though his friend is still pale. After one more fruitless attempt to wake him, he gently lifts him in his arms. His mom holds the door open for him as he brings Viktor into the house and up the stairs. He turns into his bedroom and places Viktor on his bed. No way is he placing Viktor on that stupid cot he had insisted on getting. Tenderly, he slips Viktor's shoes off and folds the blanket over him. Before he can help himself, he brushes the hair away from his friend's face, his hand lingering just a moment too long. He stiffens, embarrassed by himself though he isn't quite sure why exactly. With one final glance towards Viktor's sleeping form, he rushes out of the room.

He finds his mother in her usual place, in front of the fireplace. As she stokes the flames, he sinks down gratefully into one of the plush chairs. She soon comes to join him, sitting in her favorite spot on the loveseat. With great deliberateness, she pours herself a cup of tea from the Freljordic teapot, bringing it to her lips with a shaky hand. Jayce watches the little dancing figures flickering in the light of the fire. The windows of the sitting room are shuttered, he notices. Only the fire illuminates the room.

“How is he?” she asks softly.

“Dead asleep. It’s been quite a night.” Jayce leans back in his chair, suddenly overcome by exhaustion himself. Then he laughs. And finds he can’t stop laughing until it has almost turned to sobbing. His mother comes over and lays a steadying hand on his shoulder as he catches his breath. 

“We did it, mom,” he half whispers, half chokes. “We did it. We created magic. You won't believe it, but we flew. It was…it was everything I ever dreamed of.” His head falls into his hands as his mother rubs his shoulder comfortingly. “Viktor figured it out,” he continues. “He fixed my calculations and got us into the lab. I couldn’t have done it without his help.” He holds her hand and looks into her eyes. “I’m alive because of him.” His mother gives him a watery smile.

“Mijo, why don’t you go upstairs and rest. You’ve had…” she pauses, searching for the right word, “An eventful night. You should sleep.” She strokes his hair with her other hand. He nods, giving her hand one last squeeze before hauling himself out of the chair. Swaying a bit, he climbs the stairs and enters his bedroom.

Viktor hasn’t moved a muscle from where he laid him. He watches the rise and fall of Viktor’s chest for a few seconds, then heavily lays down next to him on the bed. Within seconds, he's asleep.

***

Jayce opens his eyes hours later completely disorientated. The sun is shining brightly through the window and right into his eyes, nearly blinding him, and his mouth feels like he's been sucking on balls of cotton in his sleep. He bolts upright as the remnants of a dream fades from memory and winces. He feels slightly hungover, even though he hasn't had anything to drink in some time. Beside him, Viktor doesn't even stir. He's curled up in a ball on his side, his mouth slightly agape. A thin line of drool has accumulated in one corner of his mouth and he sighs contentedly in his sleep, nestling deeper into the pillow.

Jayce can't contain his smile.

The sight of him shouldn't be as endearing as it is. Jayce moves carefully so as to not wake him, creeping over to his dressers to get a change of clothes. Then, he sneaks out the door and into the bathroom.

He turns the water as hot as it will go and relaxes under the burning stream. The night's events come back to him slowly, though what was dream and what was reality still feels unclear. He takes his time going through his rather lengthy and complicated cleaning ritual. Shampoo, conditioner, scented oils and soaps, lotions and then a careful shave. Once he's finally done, he towels off and changes into the light cotton shirt and brown work-pants that he had grabbed. He almost has to laugh at himself. All this work just to sweat it off at the forge. Perhaps it's only an excuse to be able to do it again. He checks his room to let Viktor know the bathroom was free, only to find him still sleeping. With a shrug, he leaves to find something to eat.

Once in the kitchen, he stuffs his cheeks with medialunas and washes them down with a strong cup of coffee.

"Your mother just went out to run a quick errand, are you sure you don't want to wait for her?" Martha asks him, after she'd embraced him and pinched his cheeks like he was still a child of course.

"No, just tell her I'm at the forge if she needs me," he says between sips of coffee. "Viktor needs his mobility back first and foremost." He drains his cup, gives her a quick peck on the cheek before heading out the door with a wave.

He hasn't made it very far before his attention is drawn to one of the newsboys barking out the latest headlines.

"Extra! Disgraced scientist creates magic! Read all about it!"

"Well, the 'disgraced' part seems a bit harsh," Jayce mumbles to himself as he buys a paper off the boy. The Piltover Press is a bit skeptical in its writings on this new, dazzling achievement. But the Uppercity Post was much more effusive. He reads the lines over and over again as he enters the forge, spirits high. "Genius" they'd called him. Heimerdinger is quoted as saying "the greatest innovation discovered in Piltover in almost 100 years". Coming from the Yordle, it's high praise. He waves to the smiths as he makes his way to his usual work station. Before he starts on Viktor's cane, he takes a moment to check in with the head smith to review the work on the leg brace he'd had commissioned. He nods in satisfaction as he's shown the progress that's been done. It will definitely suit Viktor’s needs better than the generic one given to him by the doctor.

"Good work, this will do nicely," he says, checking over the supports. "I'll take care of the detail work, just let me know when you've finished it." The smith nods.

"Sounds good, boss." The head smith goes back to his work station and Jayce turns his attention to the new cane.

By now, he has Viktor's measurements memorized, but he still designs the cane so that Viktor can adjust the height as needed. But the new innovation are several attachments that Viktor can switch out to better support him as the need may arise. Once he’s finished with it, he wants to take Viktor out on the town. They deserve to celebrate a little.

He falls into rhythm. Heating the metal before hammering it into shape. Once he's satisfied with the shape he quenches the metal, allowing it to harden. Piece by piece, the cane comes together. Finally, all that's left to do is sew the padded leather onto the handles. With a steady hand, he threads the needle and attaches the leather with even stitches, just the way his father had taught him. He sits back to admire his handiwork. He hopes that Viktor will be as pleased with it as he is.

When he steps out of the forge, with the wrapped cane under his arm, the sun is already setting and the air turning chilly. Or perhaps it just seems chilly in comparison to the heat of the forge. The walk back home is quiet. Peaceful even. He thinks of Viktor as the stars slowly reveal themselves one by one in the sky. He wonders briefly if this will be the last walk he can make with this level of anonymity. The thought makes him smile. Maybe one day he would be able to buy his mom a newer home. She'd probably refuse though. It had been the first home she'd known since being swept up by his dad in their whirlwind romance. Besides, if he wanted to focus on a new living space, he really needs to be thinking about where he and Viktor will want to move to, now that they're both effectively homeless. Still half a block away, he starts to smell Martha's cooking, his stomach grumbling as a reminder that he hasn't eaten in hours. It isn't until he enters the front garden that he hears the commotion happening within.

"Please, Viktor," he can hear his mother begging. "Jayce will be furious if he sees you on your leg like that." A flurry of other voices join his mother's and he can't hear Viktor's response. With a sigh, he opens the front door.

He finds them in the dining room.

Viktor is up, hobbling around the room while his mom and Helene trail behind him, both begging for him to take it easy. In his hands are various sheets of notes and drafts, clearly he's been busy as well while Jayce was gone. When he sees Jayce come in with the cane, he lets out an exclamation of joy and snatches the parcel from his hands. Now empty handed, Helene rushes over to give him a heart-felt embrace.

"Oh, Mr. Talis, thank goodness you're back! Your friend is too stubborn! We tried to make him rest, but he said he had 'too many ideas'," she complains, though she says it with a hint of amusement.

"Tell me about it," he laughs, wrapping his arm around her. "Viktor, would you please sit?" He glares a bit until Viktor is seated before unwrapping the new attachments. Different handles and grips and the one that Jayce is nervous about. "It can be added here," he demonstrates carefully. "And it becomes more like a crutch." He looks into Viktor's eyes earnestly, hoping that he hasn't overstepped. Viktor smiles up at Jayce.

“This will be perfect, thank you Jayce,” he says softly, “The doctors were just complaining about how I’ve been putting too much strain on my wrists. This should alleviate the problem nicely.”

Jayce grins back. “I’m glad it will help. Oh, and your new leg brace is coming along nicely. It should be ready for you to try on in the next few days for any final adjustments.” Viktor gives him a soft look, then starts fiddling with the new cane, making sure that everything is just how he likes it.

They are all startled by a loud knocking at the front door.

"Oh," Viktor says, "That is probably the reporters." He starts to stand but Mrs. Talis forces him back down.

"I told them not to bother us for the rest of the night. Both of you wait here. I will talk to them." She smooths back her hair and straightens her skirts before sweeping out of the room.

Viktor sighs. "I must apologize. They came to the house earlier while you were away. We thought it best to wait until your return to speak to them." He plays around nervously with his new cane. "They were very…insistent."  

"I'm sure they're just eager to have the latest scoop," Jayce says, placing a comforting hand on Viktor's shoulder. "We can deal with it tomorrow."

"Yes…of course." Viktor still looks anxious. The voices at the end of the hall are starting to grow louder. More intense. Jayce straightens, deciding that now's the time to intervene. Viktor looks up at him in alarm as he strides towards the door.

"Don't worry, Vik. Tonight's about us," he says, flashing what he hopes is a reassuring smile.

As soon as he leaves the sanctuary of the dining room, the whole atmosphere of the home changes. He can hear his mother begging whoever is at the door to please leave them in peace for the night, while other voices talk over her. They all stop as soon as they see him approaching down the hall. Until…

"Mr. Talis! Please, a word about your new success—"

Another reporter elbows the first out of the way and shoves a microphone in front of Jayce's face. The tape from the recorder strapped the his shoulder starts spinning lazily.

"How does it feel going from the town pariah to celebrated innovator?"

"I…uh…" Jayce stammers into the microphone before he's interrupted by yet another reporter coming in from behind the first. Microphones and writing pads crowd him in. A flash blinds him, and then another as camera men try to line up their shots.

"It's rumored that you created magic, but—"

"Mr. Talis, a word—"

"Could you tell our readers—"

"What are your views on—"

"Excuse me!" Jayce all but shouts. For a second, the scratch of pens and the flashing of camera bulbs ceases. Jayce clears his throat and continues, his arms outstretched in a placating motion. "Gentlemen...and ladies," he adds, noticing a few women reporters among the throng. "Please, I understand that you all must have many questions and the people of Piltover deserve answers. But if you wait until tomorrow, my partner and I will be able to not only answer your questions in full, but we will also present a demonstration at the Council Tower." He had no idea what the demonstration would be, but he needed these reporters off his stoop. Otherwise, his mom may scour all the skin off her hands with how much she was rubbing them together. "Tonight though, we wish to celebrate quietly as a family. In privacy."

Silence follows his outcry. Then, one by one, the reporters leave. Casting glances over their shoulders and with questions still visible on their tongues.

Jayce stands guard until it's finally just him and his mom alone on the front step. As soon as the last reporter slams the front garden gate shut, with a little more force than was necessary, his mom releases a sigh.

"You're a good man, Jayce," she says, voice low. "I don't think I have told you that enough in recent days."

Jayce wraps his arm around her shoulders, holding her tight.

"Just because I got the reporters to go away?" he laughs, but she cuts him off with a soft gesture.

"Your father would be proud of you." She states it matter-of-factly, resting her head on his shoulder.

Jayce finds himself at a loss for words. A whispered "thank you" is all he can manage.

They stay like that until Helene finds them and ushers them back inside for the supper that Martha has made. Tonight, Martha and Helene join them for the feast, all eating together like the family they were. Later, Viktor excitedly shows off his drafts over tea in front of the fire place. Already, he has huge plans for the future of Hextech. It feels like anything is possible in this warm house, in the presence of the people Jayce cares about the most.

***

When they retire for the night, Viktor immediately makes for the cot.

"Oh, come on, V," Jayce huffs. "You don't want to sleep on that tiny old thing, do you?"

Viktor shrugs. "What about propriety, Jayce? We aren't exactly kids anymore."

"But you'll mess up your back. Come on, I promise I'll be good."

An unfamiliar gleam enters Viktor's eye. "Maybe I'm the one who needs to be good," he teases lightly. He caresses his cane, long fingers grazing the soft padded leather of the handle in a soothing motion. Jayce doesn’t miss the way his hand trembles a little. As though he’s nervous about an answer he just gave on a test. He tilts his head up to look at Jayce.

"You'd never do anything like that, Vik. You're too much of a gentleman," Jayce teases back.

Viktor's face falls ever so slightly, and Jayce feels as though he's made a huge misstep. The feeling is unpleasant. Odd. He and Viktor are usually on the same page about everything, so much so that they have been accused of reading each other's thoughts by both peers and even his own mother. But now, Jayce doesn't know what is that he's done or said to disappoint Viktor. He feels unmoored. Or as though he took a step expecting solid ground, and found air instead.

"Or do you want me to call you a scoundrel? I can do that, if that's what you want. Just tell me what you want me to say." The words come out in a rush, as all his panicked mind can supply him with is that maybe Viktor took offense to being called a "gentleman." He would get down on his knees and beg if he thought that's what it would take to make Viktor happy.

"Please, Jayce. You don't need to call me a scoundrel." Viktor sighs gently and looks pensively at Jayce. He leans forward, resting one forearm on his new cane as he studies Jayce's face. Jayce can just about pinpoint the exact moment where Viktor comes to some kind of internal decision. His brows furrow minutely, his lips forming a thin line. But the expression he gives Jayce is wistful, rather than annoyed or frustrated. "If you would prefer that we share the bed, then that is fine by me. I only want what you want, Jayce."

"I just want my best friend by my side." Now it's Jayce's turn to study Viktor. Carefully, Viktor rises, leaning most of his weight on his cane. He had reverted it back to a cane after dinner, though Jayce can tell from the slight wince he gives, that he would probably benefit more from the crutch attachment. He turns off the light, then crosses the short distance between the two beds. Last night, or more accurately early morning, Viktor had slept in his clothes. Now, he's dressed in one of Jayce's old night shirts which is too big and hangs half-way down his thighs. He has a mole on his left leg that comes in and out of view depending on where the shirt falls. Jayce can't stop staring at it. Underneath, Jayce knows that Viktor's wearing a pair of shorts but without being able to see them, it's all too easy to imagine that there's nothing at all.

Jayce has to shake his head to dispel the thought.

Viktor stands in front of him, looking luminous in the moonlight spilling in from the window. The light has caught on some of the crystals that lined the sill, casting beautiful colored speckles that dot Viktor's face. Jayce swallows thickly, wondering just what Viktor was planning. His friend looks almost otherworldly as he takes one more step to stand in between Jayce's knees. Then he leans down and wraps Jayce in his arms.

"I want only what you want, Jayce," he murmurs into Jayce's hair from where his cheek is pressed against the top of Jayce's head. "Whatever you are willing to give, I'll be here to receive it." Relieved, Jayce enthusiastically returns the embrace, holding Viktor tightly to him. The sound of Viktor's heartbeat soothes his last remaining nerves.

"Wait… what are you—" Viktor starts as Jayce lifts him bodily and flips him over to the side of the bed that sits flush against the wall. He sighs with contentment as he nuzzles into the back of Viktor's neck. His whole body relaxes, sinking into the bed. Viktor huffs his amusement, but Jayce can feel his body also relaxing. The muscles in his back slowly unknot themselves and Jayce draws his thumb down it, feeling each bone through the softness of the shirt. The ensuing groan of pleasure from Viktor only encourages him to keep going, kneading the tight spots away with his thumbs.

"You make it very hard to be a gentleman sometimes, Jayce," Viktor says softly. His voice is already growing groggy.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jayce whispers it back playfully. But he's starting to realize that maybe he really doesn't know what Viktor means.

In response, Viktor mumbles something unintelligible before his breathing evens out and he's fast asleep in Jayce's arms.

Jayce shrugs to himself as he feels his own eyes growing heavy. There would always be time to talk about it later.

***

"You said what!?" Viktor is panicked. Pacing back and forth in the small room he'd been living in, with Barrius of all people. Jayce still didn't trust the man, who was currently nearly tripping over his own feet to help Viktor re-pack his belongings. He glowers from the doorway as Barrius nearly tips their little potted plant over.

"Jayce, surely you know that we only barely got Hextech to work the first time, and now you are suggesting that we go out in front of bunch of reporters and…do what exactly?"

"Demonstrate Hextech," Jayce says with a shrug. Sure, the details of his plan were a little sparse, but he really couldn't understand what Viktor was so upset about. "We will just do what we did last time."

"But that was done in the confines of Heimerdinger's lab. Have you considered how we would need to recalculate the output in a space as large as the auditorium?"

"Yep." Jayce pulls from his pocket a napkin where he'd written out the new calculations over lunch. Viktor snatches it from his hand, eyes scouring the blurry numbers.

"Oh," he sighs with relief. "These numbers look good."

"I told you, V. It's going to be fine. All we have to do is waltz up there, show off Hextech, and answer a few questions. Easy peasy." Jayce plucks the crumpled napkin back and stuffs it in his pants pocket.

Viktor looks like he's going to be sick from the thought of it.

"Viktor," he lays what he hopes is a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder, "It'll be ok. Just pretend you're in front of the classroom, doing one of your lectures." Viktor nods.

"You're right. It will be just like a lecture."

"That's the spirit," Jayce grins, clapping his friend on the back.

"Ahem," Barrius coughs politely. Jayce glares at him. He knows he shouldn't, but he can't help the feeling of satisfaction that comes over him when Barrius blanches under his gaze.

"Yes, Mr. Barrius?" Viktor asks absentmindedly. His own attention seems drawn to Jayce's hand still resting on his shoulder.

"Oh, um, I'm done with the packing?" He says it like it's a question.

"Thank you, Mr. Barrius. That's very kind of you." Viktor flashes the other man a smile. As Barrius blushes under Viktor's attention, Jayce feels like ants are crawling under his skin.

"Great," he says shortly, getting bodily in between Viktor and Barrius as he takes the crate from him. From what Viktor has told him, there is no way he trusts that incompetent buffoon with any of his things again. As he adjusts it in his arms, he realizes there was a draw back to his plan. Now, Barrius has free access to Viktor. He grits his teeth.

He manages to maintain his position between the two of them as they exit the dormitory. Viktor checks his pocket watch and groans.

"Only three more bells until the demonstration," he mutters, closing the watch with a snap. He's looking a bit green again. Jayce would be lying if he said that he wasn't beginning to feel nervous too.

"Ok," he starts. "Let's see. I think we'll have just enough time to drop off your things, get ready, and check on our equipment if we hurry."

"Yes, yes," Viktor agrees. "But what about enough time to test the new calculations?"

"I…uh…hmm," Jayce really has no other answer to that. "Ok, new plan. We take these to the lab, test the new calculations, then go straight to the Council Tower."

"Alright," Viktor finally looks a little more at ease.

"Good," Jayce grins. "It's show time."

***

Backstage, Viktor is about to pace a hole in the floor. Meanwhile, Jayce is tightening the gears of his device for what feels like the hundredth time. He could have sworn the entire carriage ride over that they were too loose. They still feel too loose, but he's out of time now. Viktor makes another pass, muttering under his breath.

"Jayce," he says suddenly, causing Jayce to nearly crash into the HCSC. "Have you factored in the amount of people who will be in the audience? I think that could effect our calculations…"

Jayce sighs. "It's too late for that now. But I think…" he pokes his head through the curtain and does some quick counting. The seats are completely filled. Reporters lined up like vultures, their notebooks and cameras at the ready to capture either the triumph of the century or the greatest failure of recent memory. The reality of the situation sinks in. But they're out of time.

Heimerdinger bursts from out from the other side of the stage. The crowd claps politely as he makes his way to the podium. He pulls out his little step ladder and climbs up to reach the microphone.

"Ahem, people of Piltover," he begins. A spotlight shines down on him, illuminating the shiny gold buttons on his suit, making them twinkle. "One of the best parts of my position as both Head of the Council and the Dean of the Academy, is being able to witness amazing moments of progress. And last night, I may have witnessed one of the greatest steps forward in all my 300 years. I'll admit, I thought it couldn't be done." He chuckles sheepishly at this and the crowd titters as well. Jayce feels his cheeks heating up at the reminder of the trial. "But I have never been so proud to have been disproved. And now, without further ado, it is my great pleasure and honor to introduce two of my former students to the stage."

The curtain rises and the spotlight swings wildly before it suddenly beams down on them. Once again, Jayce is painfully reminded of the trial. He stiffens as the crowd, which he could see before quite clearly, is plunged into darkness. All he can imagine are judging eyes and cruel whispers. Viktor, meanwhile, flinches and shields his eyes when a second spotlight is pointed right at him. Realizing that he's still crouched over the Hextech prototype, Jayce sets down his wrench and steps forward to the podium, clearing his throat. The sound echoes throughout the auditorium and a feedback loop shrieks loudly. Jayce hides his shaking hands behind his back. This is already off to a rough start.

"Um, hello. Er, I mean, good evening." He winces at the sound of his own voice echoing through the space. "While my partner finishes setting up the prototype, does anyone have any questions before we begin?"

It doesn’t get any smoother with the first questions from the reporters either.

“Mr. Talis, weren’t you just expelled from the Academy for this very research? What happened to change the Council's mind?”

“Um, well, yes I was expelled. That was due to an explosion that—” Jayce is interrupted by a different reporter. 

“Are you suggesting that Hextech is unstable?”

“Not exactly?” Jayce cringes at the uncertainty in his voice. Viktor joins him by the podium. He's clutching a small gear in his hand, the same one from the night before, running the sharp edges up and down the soft pad of his palm. Feeling reassured by Viktor's presence, Jayce goes on, voice strong, “The explosion was an accident. It was caused by unsafe handling of a Shurimian crystal by a criminal faction. But Hextech is safe. My partner, Viktor, was able to figure out how to stabilize—” he’s interrupted again by yet another reporter.

“Yes, Mr. Viktor, is it true that you’re originally from the Undercity?”

Viktor shrinks at the question. He starts, “Eh, yes. Though I don’t see how that is relevant to—”

"How were you allowed to attend The Academy without a sponsor for almost a year? Is it true that you entered fraudulently?"

"Oh, well, you see…" Viktor looks like he's going to be sick from the scrutiny. Jayce is almost relieved when another reporter steps in. Almost.

“Do you, Mr. Talis, trust that someone from the Undercity won’t steal this research to use for themselves?” Both Viktor and Jayce bristle at the question. 

“With respect, I can assure you that—” Viktor begins sharply, before Jayce leans menacingly over the podium and says icily, “If you want us to continue with this interview I suggest that we move on from this topic.”

There’s some chatter among the reporters before another one raises her hand and questions, “What led to this breakthrough?”

Jayce and Viktor exchange glances. 

Viktor nervously swallows and says, “There are naturally occurring hex-crystals that possess faint traces of magical properties. Typically they are found in the caves of Shurima, but they can sometimes be found in Undercity mines as well. Under normal circumstances, the magic contained within these stones cannot be accessed. At most, they can explode, as demonstrated by the destruction of our apartment." He pauses for a shaky breath. "My partner here, was attempting to use technology to harness this magic but he was not accounting for the chaotic nature of the stones. You see, at low speeds…”

Jayce can see that they're losing the audience. Viktor is lecturing as if he were talking to fellow scientists, not the media. He can see the crowds' eyes glazing over as they try to keep up with Viktor’s complicated explanation of the stabilization and magic extraction process of hex-crystals. He places a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, causing him to pause his ramble. 

“What my partner means is that we can now use magic! The possibilities are endless. We could see vast improvements in current technology, quality of life, or even expand trade routes.”

Now the crowd's eyes are glimmering. He has their attention. The atmosphere shifts from distrustful to exhilarated.

Riding the wave of their excitement, he turns to Viktor and whispers, “Let’s start the demonstration.” Viktor nods and turns to the prototype behind them. He carefully checks the machinery over one more time while Jayce continues to play to the crowd. When he’s ready, he nods again to Jayce, who with dramatic flair gestures to the humming machine.

“Behold, the wonders of Hextech!” he cries and Viktor places the crystal in the center and starts cranking it. After a few seconds, the gem stabilizes like before, bathing the stage in blue. The calculations had worked. The magical output has been adjusted so the two of them do not fly off the stage, but the effect is still electric. Jayce can feel his hair starting to stand on end as the gravity is affected. The whole auditorium is bathed in soft blue light, and he can see some of the audience members grabbing at hats or glasses as they start to float away. The crowd gasps collectively and rises to their feet. Viktor reproduces the little gear. Grinning widely, he pushes it through the magical core where it warps and is sucked through, then it gently floats over to Jayce. He catches it in a triumphant gesture, holding it high above his head.

The crowd goes wild.

End of Part One

Chapter Text

Part Two

Chapter Thirteen

Disillusion

"And that concludes our presentation." Jayce punctuates the end of his speech with a small clap of his hands. Viktor sags back in his seat with relief. Every second spent in this investor meeting is yet another reminder of why he normally chose to skip these events. This one, however, was too important to sit out.

"Does anyone have any questions?" Jayce asks, and Viktor straightens back up, the metal and leather of his back brace rubbing together in a way that sets his teeth on edge. He makes a mental note to ask Jayce to make some more adjustments to it later. He blinks around the room. The light seems to be angling off the gold gilded accents of the chairs and tables in a way that is garishly bright. Opulence drips from every square inch of this room in a way that Viktor would find distasteful, even if they weren’t here to beg for money.

A portly clan leader raises a languid hand. Viktor tries to remember which clan he is the leader of, but his mind feels sluggish. The knowledge is there, just trapped behind a wall of fog. Fortunately Jayce leaps to the rescue.

"House Holloran, you have the floor."

"Ahem, thank you," Lord Holloran rises. "A very interesting presentation. I'd expect nothing less from the founder Hextech."

Jayce gives Viktor a tiny smile, which Viktor wishes he could return. He reserves his smiles depending on what the clan leader will say next. He's glad he does.

"However," Holloran continues twirling his mustache as he talks. It's an oily little thing, waxed and styled to perfection. Possibly dyed as well as the dark brown doesn't match the blonde, coiffed locks on his head. "I am afraid that House Holloran will not be placing our backing for this particular project." The others around the table all nod along solemnly. Viktor's heart sinks.

"Why not?" Jayce asks bluntly. "You've seen the presentation. You know the technology is sound."

"Yes, but what you are describing is a charity case. It will completely throw off the profit margins—"

"Haven't the Hexgates provided you all with enough gold to forget about profits just this once? Or do you believe yourselves to be above acts of benevolence?" Jayce spits the words out. His hands slam against the table and Viktor startles in his chair. Usually, Jayce is more level headed than this. Around the table, glances are exchanged and various papers are shuffled nervously. Only Elora gives the two of them a reassuring look as she raises her hand, then rises to speak before waiting to be called on.

"As the representative of House Medarda, it is my honor to inform this room that this project has our full support and backing." She stares down each of the clan leaders and representatives. A few squirm in their seats, but most stare defiantly back at her in return.

"Permission to take the floor?" Comes another voice, dripping with condescension.

"Permission granted," Jayce groans, hiding his face in his hand.

The speaker stands primly. He smooths his greying hair back with a gloved hand, though no hairs were actually out of place on his heavily moussed head.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he begins. "As all of you well know, I am the representative of House Ferros." He waits for the appropriate nods and murmurs of agreement before continuing. "I was just in talks with the representative of House Giopara, and we have both come to the agreement that, while this is certainly a bold and…innovative proposal, it really cannot be decided on without the approval of the Council first. After all, this is a matter that involves the Undercity, which is their prerogative. Far be it from us to agree on such an ambitious project as an air and water filtration system without their approval."

A chorus of "Hear, hear" and "Well said" echoes throughout the room. Viktor can feel a nasty headache coming on as he slumps further down in his seat. Jayce notices immediately, leaning down to murmur softly in his ear.

"How're you holding up?"

Viktor shrugs. "I've been better," he whispers back. Jayce rests a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Is there anything you'd like to say? They have a point about this being for the Undercity."

Viktor eyes the table warily. Some of the conversations are starting to grow a bit heated, fists slamming down on wood, cups of wine starting to rattle, voices being raised. He shudders and shakes his head. There is no way on Runeterra that any of the Heads of Houses would be interested in any argument he could put forth. They barely acknowledged him as Jayce's venture partner as it is.

"No…no," he whispers with a shake of his head. "They wouldn't want to hear from the likes of me."

Jayce's gaze softens and he gives Viktor a soft pat on the back before resuming the meeting. Viktor sits back and allows the pain in his head to distract him from the arguments unfolding around him. A faint ringing in his ears eventually grows loud enough to drown out even the most pompous and long-winded of the Lords and Ladies.

He loses track of his surroundings and even his sense of self as he drifts on a sea of pain. It sharpens into a point that leaves him breathless before easing up just to stab him again. While he's been no stranger to pain these last five years, this is different. Frightening, even for him. He fights to wrest control back over it, fails, and tries again. His fingernails dig into the wood of the armrests, leaving half-moon indents. Eyes squeezed shut, he rides another wave, the pain cresting before receding back just enough for him to recover his senses. A hand descending upon his shoulder nearly causes him to fall out of his chair. Fortunately for him, that same hand gently holds him steady as he attempts to regain his sense of self.

"Hey, V," Jayce's soft voice cuts through the agony roiling in his head. "Are you ok? You're really pale."

"Headache," Viktor grits out. He can barely open his eyes, each ray of sun feels like an ice pick to the brain. He can hear Jayce rummaging around his satchel and pulling out the little envelope of powder that his doctor had prescribed to him to manage his back pain. He had been trying to ration the little envelopes, but the scolding will have to wait. Maybe he could send Jayce to pick up the next refill. They might actually give him the full prescription amount. Now though, he can do little more than try to sit as still as possible until he feels the press of a cool glass to his lips.

The medicine is bitter, but the relief it brings is immeasurable. In seconds, the stabbing in his eyes lessens and mere minutes afterwards he's able to cautiously sit up without fearing that he will pass out, throw up, or both. He blinks blearily around at his surroundings.

The boardroom is empty.

"What…what happened?" he asks.

Jayce snorts. "Ugh, well. They all argued with each other. Then they decided to hold a separate meeting to argue some more. But seriously, Viktor," Jayce's face grows grim. "What was that? Do we need to go to the doctor?"

Viktor shudders at the thought.

"No, no," he waves Jayce away. "Just a migraine, I think. Let's just go home. A bath and some hot tea will fix me." He tries to smile reassuringly up at Jayce. Jayce doesn't return it.

"Let me call us a carriage," Jayce begins, gently draping his own coat over Viktor's shoulders. Viktor hates how it dwarfs his frame, but that doesn't stop him from pulling it tighter around himself. "And don't say—"

"Let's walk instead," Viktor finishes wryly. "Please, Jayce? I think the fresh air will help."

Jayce groans. "Fine, fine. But if you collapse from exhaustion along the way, I'm taking you straight to the hospital and there's nothing you can do to stop me."

"Duly noted," Viktor says, grimacing as he pulls himself to his feet.

***

The streets of Piltover are different than they were five years ago, for better and for worse.

As they descend the Council Tower steps, they are enveloped by the shadow of the Hexgates. Viktor watches on as an airship, filled to the brim with goods from all over Runeterra, carefully docks in front of the gate. In the blink of an eye, a complicated runic sequence dances around the ship and then, in a flash, it's gone. Off to who knows where.

The sight, which used to fill Viktor with pride, leaves him feeling empty. Here on the ground, things aren't as simple anymore.

The walk to their flat isn't a long one, but at the rate that Viktor walks these days, it might as well be. Jayce never makes him feel rushed or as though Viktor is slowing him down. A gift that Viktor wished the rest of Piltover possessed. They are jostled by street hawkers and merchants eager to make a sale. The Emporium now permanently takes up almost a third of Piltover's Mid Town. Most of the local shops have had to be shuttered, unable to keep up with the flood of new, affordable goods that were being shipped in on a daily basis. In their stead, shiny storefronts were hastily erected with pushy salesmen who try to entice passersby inside.

Past the Emporium, Piltover's new found wealth is displayed in other ways.

Construction has begun in what is now being called "New Piltover". What was once a beautiful track of forest was being stripped away for a brand-new neighborhood for the up and coming merchant class. It was clear that the Gold Way in Upper Piltover wasn't enough to contain all of their 'progress'. It filled Viktor with a white hot rage if he thought about it for too long. It wasn't enough for the upper echelons of Piltover to hide away in their golden cages, far away from the realities of the two cities, but now they were expanding. Greed begetting greed.

They trucked in workers from Zaun to erect the gilded towers and lower and middle houses vied for the chance to be contracted for the construction. The Council counted this as an example of Piltover's new-found success helping each social class. Now, the sounds of blasting and trees being felled could be heard at all hours of the day and night. Progress never sleeps, after all.

Viktor didn't buy it.

How Jayce felt about this seemed to change from week to week. Some days he would come home from an investor meeting or one of the many fund raising galas overflowing with pride.

"We've made it Vik," he'd say as they decompressed together on their couch. He always managed to rope Viktor into joining him, despite what the other man may have been busy working on. "We've really made it. The amount of jobs we've created, the trade we've facilitated. Piltover is a major player on the world stage, thanks to Hextech." His eyes would shine with such earnestness, that it made Viktor want to cry.

In the lab, he often felt differently.

"We invented Hextech to help people." He said this while slamming his tools down on his worktable, the notice from the Board sitting accusingly in front of him. "The everyday people, not the rich. But every time we try, it's just red tape after red tape. How long did it take for the Council to agree to the use of the Atlas Gauntlets and the Hexclaw in Undercity mining operations?" He addressed his question to Viktor as he leaned forward, head in his hands.

"Too long," Viktor had grumbled bitterly. The only thing that helped him sleep a little easier is that the mines and refineries that had adopted them reported a 70% decrease in workplace accidents.

Which is why they had to get this latest project funded. In Viktor's mind, it was the only way to justify what Hextech has been twisted into.

They are only a block away from their flat when the tightness in Viktor's chest forces him to stop and try to catch his breath. He wheezes painfully, each breath catching into a cough as he's jostled by the crowd. Just as he thinks he's better, a carriage rolls past, kicking up dust from the road and Viktor begins coughing anew. The final coughing fit leaves him gasping and Jayce hovering in alarm.

"V, you told me these spells were getting better," Jayce hisses, trying to shield Viktor as much as he can from the uncaring stream of pedestrians. "I thought you said you were going to see the doctor."

"It's not usually this bad," Viktor wheezes. "I thought if I just got some rest…"

"For god's sake," Jayce huffs. "How long has this been going on now? A year?"

"Ten months," Viktor corrects before lapsing into another cough. Jayce rolls his eyes.

"May as well be a year. Why didn't you bring this up with your doctors?"

"They are spine surgeons, Jayce. I highly doubt they care much about an occasional cough." Viktor straightens and wipes his face with his handkerchief. Jayce looks like he'd like to keep arguing, but instead he just offers Viktor his arm. Viktor gratefully accepts.

After what feels like ages, they reach their apartment building. They climb the steps to the first floor still arm in arm. Despite months of searching, neither Jayce nor Viktor had been able to find an apartment on the ground floor that would serve their purposes. The compromise had been this one, nestled comfortably between the lab and the Council Tower in one of the better neighborhoods.

Viktor finds his mood starting to improve the closer they draw to their front door. Jayce fiddles for the keys, waving an arm to keep Viktor out of a potential blast range. They haven't had a break in or explosion since that fateful day, but old habits die hard. Once inside, Jayce throws himself onto the couch, looking defeated. Distractedly, he begins to loosen his cravat and starts to undo the hooks and buttons of his gaiters.

Viktor watches on helplessly.

"I suppose that could have gone better," he suggests, playing with the handle of his crutch nervously.

"Mm," Jayce hums as he slides the fabric from around his neck and loosens his collar. "Would you believe me if I said I thought it would go worse?" They share a quiet smile before it falls from Jayce's face as he asks in a low voice, "But what was that?"

"I don't know what you mean," Viktor defers. He really doesn't want to talk about this. Not now at least. And preferably not ever.

"You know what I'm talking about. I thought you were going to pass out and I was going to have to call the medics. Are these episodes new? Or have you been hiding them from me?"

Viktor winces. Jayce isn't wrong to be suspicious. He'd worked himself to the point of collapse only a year ago, hiding the pain in his leg and back until it couldn't be ignored anymore. The look on Jayce's face when he had come to on the lab floor still haunts him.

“I’m going to take a bath,” Viktor says as a way to leave the conversation.

Jayce stays seated but calls out as Viktor enters the bathroom, "We'll talk about it later."

Shutting the door gently with a click, Viktor sags against it. He knows Jayce is right to be worried. But the thought of more doctor's appointments fills him with dread. He'd rather push through on his own as much as he can. He faces the magnificent claw-footed bathtub and turns on the faucet, setting it as high as it will go.

Besides the convenient location and reasonable rents, this was the true draw of this particular flat. It was huge, big enough for Jayce and Viktor to sit comfortably inside it if they wanted to. Viktor had taken one look and fallen in love. 

As the water gushes into the tub, he slowly begins to undress.

His typical fashion was a variation of the same outfit everyday. Dark button up shirt, white vest, tie, and trousers. Thinking about clothes was something he left for Jayce to do. Today though, he had attempted to dress up a bit to impress the investors. Personally, Viktor didn’t care what they thought about him or his appearance, but Jayce had stressed to him that making a good impression would help their cause. So to please him, he had pulled out the suit that he'd solicited from Gwen for special occasions: a beautiful maroon color three piece suit with gold accents in the traditional Piltover style. Viktor got a perverse sense of pride when he wore it. It wasn't lost on him that it was the same color of the Talis coat of arms and by wearing it, he was essentially declaring his alliance with the Talises to all of Piltover. It also didn't hurt that when he first wore it in front of Jayce, the other man had almost dropped his drink and stammered for a good five minutes. That reaction alone was better than looking in a mirror, or even the "oh's" and "ah's" of Gwen and her son.

Now though, the effect was not quite the same. The suit hung off of his frame awkwardly. In the months from when he'd first bought it to now, he's lost almost two stone. The once well tailored suit looks massive on him. Like a child playing dress up with his father’s clothes. He can't even bear to look at his reflection in the standing mirror in the corner, deliberately turning his back to it as he makes quick work with his braces.

With a deft flick of a few clever knobs and switches, Viktor takes off his outer leg brace, sighing with relief as his leg slips free. The rest of his clothes follow suit and he lets them fall to a crumpled heap on the floor until, finally, he's only in his braces and the little gear that sits on a chain around his neck. He reaches over to a small cabinet and grabs a number of salts and oils, pouring them in with a heavy hand. They were supposed to soothe his joints and open his sinuses for better breathing. Plus, they smelled nice. After stirring them into the steaming water, he removes his inner leg brace and begins the complicated process of taking off his back brace. If he wanted to, he knows that just a word would have Jayce leaping in to help him with it. But he doesn't. There's something about being able to do this himself that he enjoys. A small reminder that he can still be independent. He breathes a bit easier when the brace drops to the floor. Then, he finally sinks into the water.

Viktor allows himself to just soak. The hot water eases his aching muscles and the steam starts to clear his head for the first time that day. He sinks lower and lower until the water is touching his chin. He closes his eyes and focuses on the warmth encompassing him.

A cautious knock at the door startles him. He sits up a tiny bit, hands braced on each side of the tub.

“Yes?” he calls softly and Jayce pokes his head in, careful not to look over in Viktor's direction.

“Um, I just got a message from the Board.”

“Already? I thought they were having their 'second meeting'?” Viktor is suspicious.

“Yeah…I thought so too. But Elora messaged me to say that they held a blind vote and the results are that they are willing to provide the funds if the Council agrees to the proposal.” 

Of course there is a catch. There’s always a catch. The Council can never agree to anything regarding Zaun. 

As if he can read his thoughts, Jayce says, “I'll talk to Mel. She and Councilor Kiramman have been working together on an Undercity initiative. I'm sure they'll be interested in the filtration system.” Viktor nods and then lets himself sink even lower into the water. 

“Thank you, Jayce,” he murmurs as he closes his eyes again. Jayce shuts the door and Viktor can hear his determined stride traversing through the flat and out the door. He’s probably going to send an answer back to the Board.

Viktor loses himself in the warmth of the bath again.

At some point he hears Jayce return from his errand, but he doesn’t come back to the bathroom door. So Viktor continues to lay submerged until the water finally begins to chill. Reluctantly, he starts to sit up to get out, when another bout of coughing overtakes him. Shoulders shaking from the force, he coughs until he’s left shaking, gasping desperately for air that never seems to come. Gagging, he looks down. Pink swirls greet him.

He raises a trembling hand to his mouth, his fingers meeting something warm and slick. They come away covered in red.

That's when he finally panics.

Shakily, he tries to call for Jayce, but the words get stuck in his throat and he chokes on yet more coughing and blood. From elsewhere in the apartment Jayce must have heard him. He knocks again on the door. Then louder and more insistently as Viktor struggles to catch his breath and speak.

“Viktor, I’m opening the door now, ok?” Jayce says as he turns the knob, “Are you alright—?” he starts to ask, then stops short. 

Viktor doesn't know what he looks like, but he can imagine. Jayce’s face pales as his eyes rove over him. In a rush, he’s by Viktor’s side, helping him out of the tepid water and wrapping him in a towel. 

“Gods Viktor! I’ll call the medics! We need to get you to the hospital, we need—” 

At last, Viktor catches his breath.

“No, please,” he croaks out, “Please, no hospitals right now. I’ll be ok in a minute.” Though he continues to gasp, air is finally reaching his lungs again. He just focuses on breathing- in and out- as Jayce continues to towel him off before wrapping him in a tight hug. 

Now that the worst of it is over, Viktor is starting to feel embarrassed by the whole situation. Worse, he's painfully aware of his nakedness and the fact that Jayce is still embracing him. He pulls away a little, which Jayce lets him do with some reluctance. Viktor snatches the towel from around his shoulders and wraps it roughly around his waist. Then he stumbles over to the sink and catches a glimpse of himself in the bathroom mirror. 

He looks like death. Blood drips freely from his nose and when he bares his teeth, they are stained red. His skin has a decidedly corpse-like appearance: pale and waxy. And the circles under his eyes look more like bruises. No wonder Jayce was so rattled. 

He spits into the sink, watching with detachment as the pink spittle creeps down the bowl and into the drain. Jayce comes up behind him again and Viktor can see the fear in his eyes reflected in the mirror. He wraps his arms around Viktor’s waist and rests his chin on his shoulder.

“Please,” he whispers into Viktor's ear. “Please see a doctor about this.”

Viktor wants to dig his heels in and refuse, but the look on Jayce’s face is that of pure terror. And he’s not too proud to admit that this incident has left him shaken as well. Not when he can still taste the coppery blood on his teeth. He closes his eyes, feeling Jayce’s heart beating on his back and the warmth of his breath on his neck. He relishes the comfort and the familiarity of it. For just a moment, he pretends that Jayce's arms can ward away what ails him. 

He nods in answer to Jayce’s question, still keeping his eyes closed. Jayce squeezes him tightly then lets go and backs away. Viktor misses his presence immediately.

“Oh, uh...I’ll give you some privacy for a minute,” Jayce says a bit too quickly. Opening one eye a crack, Viktor sees Jayce's face flush as he makes a hasty retreat from the bathroom. He must have finally realized how close he was to his friend, who was naked except for a towel. Moments like these used to send Viktor into an emotional tailspin. But now he’s too exhausted to think any more about it as he leans over the sink, the little gear at his neck swinging like a pendulum.

***

Hours later, he’s still being poked and prodded by various specialists. He sits back on the doctor’s table for the umpteenth blood draw. 

Jayce is sitting in the chair next to him. Viktor has given up on telling him to stop shaking his leg and it's obvious he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. He keeps picking at an old scab, some scrape he probably got at the forge. As the nurse leaves with her little vials, the cut starts to bleed a little and Viktor reaches out his hand to cover it with his own. Jayce startles at the contact, then clutches it like a life line. That's the position the doctor finds them in as he bursts through the door.

"Hello, hello," the doctor chirps, way too cheerful for the circumstances. Viktor frowns as Jayce drops his hand to stand to greet the overly-smiley doctor.

"What can you do for him?" Jayce asks bluntly. The doctor glances over the chart in his hand and hums.

"My my, you've got quite the chart here. Let's see, born in the Undercity. You had surgery on your back last year and had complications with the recovery. And you have some notes about complaints of chronic pain and seeking pain treatments." He eyes Viktor like he's a specimen as he flips over to the next sheet. Viktor's cheeks redden with a mix of indignation and embarrassment. This always happens as soon as they see his place of birth in his charts. He shifts uncomfortably on the table, wondering if it's worth it to try to defend himself.

"How is that relevant to him coughing up blood?" Jayce cuts in, arms crossed.

"Well, let's see." The doctor leans over him and pulls out a stethoscope. He pulls at the hospital gown and pauses when he comes to Viktor's brace wrapped around his ribs. "Would you…?" he aims the question at Jayce, who jumps up to see what he needs.

"Is it alright if I help you take off the brace?" Jayce asks Viktor gently, his hand hovering over his back.

"Yes, you take the back, I'll do the front," Viktor answers, relieved to have at least some say in the proceedings. They make quick work of it and once it's off, the doctor returns and places the cold stethoscope on his chest.

"Mmm, mhm." The doctor steps back and scribbles down some notes. Then he flashes a light in Viktor's eyes, looks up his nose, and stares down his throat. After each check, he makes another note with a shake of his head.

His bedside manner leaves much to be desired, Viktor thinks as the doctor pokes at his lymph nodes.

“Well, we won't know for certain until the blood tests have been completed, but I think it's safe to say that your friend has Grey-Lung," the doctor says, addressing Jayce as if Viktor isn't even there.

Viktor feels the blood draining from his face. The room swims. He grips the sides of the table to keep himself upright. Jayce, meanwhile, just stares up blankly at the doctor.

"Grey-Lung? Is that an infection or something?"

"Well," the doctor plops himself down on a little wheeled stool. "Not exactly. The true cause of Grey-Lung isn't known precisely, but it's theorized that it originates from the gasses found in the lowest levels of the Undercity,” the doctor says in answer to Jayce's question. Viktor looks at the doctor sharply. It wasn't the gasses that caused Grey-Lung. It was the toxins in the gasses that were the root source. Toxins that originated in Piltover. Toxins that he had hoped he would be able to bring an end to with Hextech. He furrows his brows as the doctor continues speaking, oblivious to both men's clear distress. "So you don't need to worry about it being contagious." He chuckles a little to himself. The laugh trails off as neither Jayce nor Viktor share in his amusement. "Ahem, from the reported symptoms, we're probably looking at a stage two. Maybe bordering on three."

“Stage two?” Viktor asks, he wasn't even aware there were stages of Grey-Lung. None of the people in Zaun were aware of that either as far as he knew. You either got it and lived. Or you didn't. The doctor side-eyes him and continues as if he hadn’t spoken.

“At stage two, persistent cough and shortness of breath are typical. He would also feel fatigue and have a loss of appetite.” The doctor makes more notes as he speaks, not looking at either man.

“But what about the blood?” Jayce asks, voice wavering a bit, “You didn’t see how much blood there was. It was everywhere.” The doctor turns his patronizing smile onto Jayce.

“Yes, I can see how you’d be concerned. While coughing up bloody phlegm is a more unusual symptom, rest assured that it’s still quite common with this disease.”

“So, what are my options?” Viktor wants to see if he can make this doctor actually address him directly even once. 

“Unfortunately, there is no cure for Grey-Lung at this time. We can treat the symptoms as they arise but there's very little else we can do. At stage one, we’d simply let the disease run its course. Typically, it would clear up in about a month or so. At stage two, Grey-Lung becomes chronic. We can prescribe an antitussive and a bronchodilator for the shortness of breath and hopefully with treatment, the disease won't progress any further. Was your friend particularly sickly as a child?” The doctor asks, speaking directly to Jayce.

"Not particularly," Viktor answers for himself. "I did have surgeries on my leg as a small child, but I was no more sick than any of the other children growing up." He starts to get back into his clothes and braces. He’s tired of hospital gowns. 

"I see. I asked because it is often contracted in childhood." The doctor scribbles another note off-hand. Jayce meanwhile has started pacing, no longer able to keep the nervous energy at bay.

“And if it does progress? You said it was bordering on stage three, what does that mean?" He whirls to face the doctor, fists clenched tightly at his sides.

"Well, let's just try to keep it at level two," the doctor says lightly. “We'll start him out with a fairly aggressive dosage but let us know if his symptoms get worse, we can always adjust his medication. I’ll go ahead and place that order and we'll send a message along once the tests have come back to go over the results." He slaps his hands on his knees as he rises from his seat and goes to shake Jayce's hand. "You are free to go whenever you’re ready. It was nice to see you today, Mr. Talis and Mr. …" He reaches for the chart. "…Viktor.”

It doesn't take long for them to cinch up the rest of Viktor's braces in numb silence. In that same silence, they make the short walk together to the pharmacy to pick up his new prescriptions. The pharmacist carefully counts out the little pills and bottles them up along with telling them instructions on how they should be used. She takes one look at their faces and tuts.

"Don't worry, I'll include written instructions as well."

"Thank you," Viktor murmurs while Jayce finishes up with the discharge paperwork.

Afterwards, Jayce insists that they grab a bite to eat. Viktor doesn’t feel like eating, but he lets Jayce order him his favorite stew. He pretends to take a few bites while Jayce practically inhales his own food. He gets the stall owner to wrap his leftovers up to bring home with him. He tells himself he’ll eat it later when he’s feeling better. 

Thoroughly drained, he and Jayce stumble up the stairs to their flat.

Jayce immediately starts cleaning the bathroom of blood, clearly needing to do something to burn off his nervous energy. Though it would be polite to help, it's his mess after all, Viktor finds that he can't even bring himself to look towards the bathroom. Facing the aftermath of his body's failure is too much for him at this moment. Instead, he retires to his bedroom.

Flicking on the light, he slumps wearily down on the bed before, with aching limbs, he makes to remove his braces. He wonders absently if he’s broken some kind of personal record for the number of times he’s put on and removed his braces in one day. Leaning heavily on his crutch, he picks out his softest, comfiest pajamas. Fleecy and warm, the contrast of wearing them after the cold of the hospital room soothes him. For the first time, he looks over the new medicine that will, Janna permitting, prevent what he knows will be a slow, painful death. He memorizes the instructions then pops one of the pills in his mouth and swallows it down preemptively. Then, sitting up in bed, he starts revising his notes from the lab. Jayce isn’t the only one with nerves to burn.

He doesn’t remember when his hand holding his pen goes slack, or when Jayce comes in to check on him. He certainly doesn’t remember Jayce carefully putting his notes away and making sure his crutch is within arms reach before he gently pulls his blankets over him, taking special care with the Zaunite quilt. Nor does he feel the soft press of lips to his forehead and the wetness of the cheek that presses there for a moment afterwards.

***

Jayce tries to act like things are perfectly normal the next morning. Viktor can tell that he really is trying. But he is absolutely failing. He keeps staring at Viktor with sorrowful eyes that aren't comforting at all. While he's impeccably dressed as always, the prominent eye bags betray the fact that he must have had a sleepless night. As he leans over the kitchen table with another dramatic sigh, Viktor swallows down what he wants to say with a sip of coffee.

He had never wanted this. This feeling of being a burden. His whole life he'd been trying to prove that, despite his disabilities, he could support himself through his intellect and drive. And he had never wanted Jayce to view him as anything less than himself. Now he feels helpless. Worse than helpless. He's become an anchor around both of their necks.

He's pulled from his morose thoughts by a distinct burning smell.

"Jayce, I believe you're burning breakfast."

"Oh shit!" Jayce whirls around in a panic and grabs the handle of a pot with a bare hand. He yelps in pain and surprise, spilling the contents all over the stove. Viktor grabs a hand towel and deftly moves the pot off of the burner and turns off the stove.

"Janna's tits, Jayce you could have hurt yourself," he says sharply, reverting to Zaunite in his agitation. "Let me see your hand," he demands. Jayce shows it to him sheepishly.

"I'm fine, V. Really. I just forgot what I was doing." Jayce allows him to inspect his hand until Viktor is satisfied that the burn is superficial.

"Yes, everything is fine," Viktor says with some finality. Jayce finally gives him a real smile and starts to scrub the burnt oatmeal from the bottom of the pot. Viktor moves to make a simple porridge, something light that he hopes he will actually be able to eat.

He can't. Instead, he picks at it until he thinks he's convinced Jayce that he's eaten more than he actually has. The only good thing he can say so far since his "little episode" is that, since taking his new medication, for the first time since he can remember, his chest doesn't feel too tight. Oxygen seems to be actually hitting his lungs and he feels more energetic than he has in months. Possibly even years.

They hastily clean up and Jayce successfully convinces Viktor to take a carriage to the lab this morning, rather than walking. Though he'd rather walk, he's had enough "good" days to know that over-doing it physically back-fires on him later more often than not.

Once at the lab, Jayce goes to check to see what kind of messages they’ve received while they were out. Viktor hates this part of their job. Playing nice to people who have no idea what it is that they do and just want to be seen next to Piltover’s latest pioneers.

Jayce reads through the messages out loud to him as he heads to the main lab.

"Mel has agreed to meet up to go over a strategy for handling the Council," Jayce calls over his shoulder as Viktor eases himself down on his wheeled stool and starts to power up his personal Hexclaw. "More sponsorship gala invites. You really ought to come to one Vik." He shuffles through a few more messages. "Mom wants us to come by sometime soon. Should I tell her to pencil us in tonight?"

"Oh, yes," Viktor answers with some enthusiasm. "That would be lovely, Jayce."

"Alright, I'll let her know," Jayce grins at him, which he returns. His Hexclaw whirs to life, and starts the coffee maker while he looks over his notes from yesterday. He waits for Jayce to join him. When he doesn't, he looks up in some alarm to find Jayce staring frozen at a message in his hand.

"What's wrong, Jayce?" he asks in concern. Jayce shakes his head.

"Nothing's wrong. It's just…" Jayce trails off. Viktor waits expectantly. "Heimerdinger has invited me to give the opening Progress Day speech," he finally says.

Viktor's stomach twists. Progress Day was a day of Piltovan pride. To be asked to give the opening speech is the highest honor one could bestow on a fellow scientist. It would make sense to ask Jayce, who displays all the best parts of Piltover in human form. Just as it equally makes sense not to include Viktor, who is the embodiment of what Piltover values least.

"You have to accept," Viktor says, the words burning his throat. He stirs an almost alarming amount of milk and sugar into his coffee, watching it swirl together. Jayce's coffee is being held aloft delicately by the Hexclaw, just waiting for its recipient to arrive.

Jayce nods and pencils in a quick response. Resealing the cylindrical container and sending it whooshing back through the pneuma tubes. They watch it disappear and Viktor sighs, shoulders slumped. He turns back to his projects, not looking up as Jayce enters the main lab. The Hexclaw jumps into action and thrust the coffee towards Jayce as he passes by Viktor to get to his own work station.

Jayce grins in delight as he takes it.

“Thanks for the coffee, Vik,” he says warmly after taking a sip. "It still amazes me how you're able to control the Hexclaw like that. It barely does what I want it to do at the best of times." Viktor hums in response, turning to his work to hide his reddening cheeks.

Jayce moves to his own station and stares at his newest invention. The Mercury Hammer is a bit of a passion project for him. Viktor isn’t entirely sure exactly how Jayce will be able to justify it to the Board, but he'd never discourage his friend from pursuing what he actually wants to work on. The Board and the Council control enough of what they do. For the next few hours, the two lose themselves in their respective projects.

For Viktor, that means working on his own private passion. Before him sits a prosthetic leg, of sorts. Rather than being made to replace a missing limb, it's designed to fit over an existing one. To be an additional aid to strengthen a weakened limb. Knowing Viktor's penchant for affixing 'Hex-' to the beginning of all his inventions, Jayce had once playfully referred to it as the 'Hexoskeleton'. Delighted, Viktor had immediately adopted the name. He lovingly stares at the new additions he's made, the Hexclaw working behind him to solder some delicate parts together. Both he and Jayce know who it's really for, and both pretend that the other doesn't know. The most they acknowledge it is when Jayce makes an off-hand comment about it "being ok" to be selfish sometimes. Leaning back in his stool, Viktor stretches his aching back and looks to where Jayce is hard at work on the hammer.

"What time is it?" he calls over. Jayce looks up and stares blearily at his pocket-watch.

"Way past the time we should have taken a break," he says with a yawn and a stretch. "What do you think? Should we call it a day?"

Viktor considers the question seriously. For the first time in a very long time, he actually feels…good. His mind is clear and not fighting against him and he has energy. His appetite hasn't returned but he also hasn't had to stop work for a myriad of coughing fits. Part of him wants to keep going, who knows if he will feel this productive again. Another part doesn't want to press his luck.

"Eh, it will take a while to get to your mom's house. Why don't we call it an early day and freshen up before we go?"

Jayce grins at him. "Sounds like a plan."

***

As they lock up the lab, Viktor is already dreaming of the dinner they will soon be having. Perhaps his appetite is returning after all. Linking arms, the two scientists chat cheerfully regarding their respective projects. As they wait for a carriage to arrive, they go over Viktor’s theory about wild runes and Jayce eagerly waxes on about how the Mercury Hammer is coming along.

“I swear to you, Vik, I think this is my finest work yet!”

“And I am inclined to agree with you,” Viktor says smiling. “Really, you’ve out done yourself. Perhaps you can assist me with my work next. As much as I am loath to admit, your welding skills are better than mine, even with the help of the Hexclaw.” Jayce beams.

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better are you?” he playfully asks. Viktor considers, with an equally playful gleam in his eye.

“Not just to make you feel better…” he begins before Jayce gives him a good-natured nudge with his shoulder. 

The familiar house soon comes into view. The warm glow from the windows spills onto the street invitingly. Viktor feels a sense of familiarity as the carriage comes to a halt. Coming to the Talis house feels like coming home. Gallantly, Jayce helps Viktor out of the carriage and up the stoop. He barely touches the door before his mother has wrenched it open and is flying into his arms. 

“Mijo!" she cries, peppering Jayce's face with kisses. "You never come to visit anymore! It's always work, work, work these days." Jayce hugs her warmly. Viktor's heart warms at the sight. It warms even more when Jayce pulls him into the embrace. “And how have you been, Viktor dear?” she asks after giving him a gentle kiss on both cheeks. 

“I’ve been better,” Viktor replies, more honestly than he expected to. “But now that I’m here, I’m sure I will be back to my old self.” His mom smiles warmly at him and then pulls him into his own, separate hug. 

The dinner was magnificent. Martha had pulled out all the stops, making a spread that included all of their favorite dishes. As he hoped, Viktor eats more than he has in days. He couldn't help himself. Martha had made a Zaunite-style fish stew that was the closest in taste to his mother's he'd ever had this side of the bridge. It almost brought tears to his eyes. His increase in appetite hadn't gone unnoticed by Jayce, who smiled in satisfaction as Viktor filled his bowl for the second time. After dessert, they gather around the fire in the sitting room, chatting comfortably. It's while they're warm, comfortable, and full that Jayce broaches the subject of attending a gala on him again.  

“Please, Viktor? It would really mean the world to me if you came,” Jayce says softly, almost pleadingly. 

“Really Jayce, I’m flattered. But you don’t really want me to attend. I'd be an embarrassment.” Viktor adds a spoonful of sugar to his tea, stirring slowly so as not to have to meet Jayce's eyes.

“No, I really do. You’re a part of Hextech too. You deserve to be there.” He takes Viktor’s hand. It's warm and calloused. Despite their strength, he holds Viktor's hand gently, as though it's something precious to him. “Please?” Viktor looks at their clasped hands. In his mind's eye, he can see Jayce in all his finery, introducing Viktor to the Piltover elite as his partner. He sees in his imagination the knowing glances passing between the Lords and Ladies that he wouldn't correct for all the world. It's a tempting vision.  

“If it’s for you, Jayce, I’ll go. But you will handle the press.”

“It's a deal,” Jayce laughs. "I'll do the interviews. Just knowing you'll be there will make it easier."

“When are you meeting with Councilor Medarda concerning the filtration system?” Viktor asks next as Ximena goes to refill the tea pot.

“End of the month,” Jayce replies, shoulders slumped, “She’s going to try to get us in with the Council sooner, but with Progress Day planning already underway, we’re lucky we’re even going to get an audience at all.”

Viktor frowns.

“The Council is aware, is it not, that there are people in the Undercity who need our help now?” he asks bitterly. He grips his crutch tightly, trying to keep his voice calm. “How many more people are going to get Grey-Lung while we have the ability to stop it? How many more children are going to get sick while the Council sits around debating?” 

“I…I don’t know, Viktor. But we’re trying our best.” Jayce reaches out for his hand again. After a moment's hesitation, he places his own in Jayce's. But the mood has shifted somewhat. Ximena must sense it as well.

"More tea?" she offers, holding up the pot.

***

The carriage ride home was quiet. Each man lost in their own thoughts.

Afterwards back at their apartment, Viktor goes to take another bath. He wasn't going to let fear rob him of one of his few remaining pleasures.

As he sinks into the steaming bath, he hears a shuffling outside the door. Jayce must be hovering. No doubt listening intently for any sounds of coughing or distress. With a sigh, Viktor slips under the water, submerging his entire head. It's strangely peaceful. Every sound is muffled and nothing feels so overbearing here. If he didn't have to breathe air, Viktor would quite like to live in this under-water world. Nothing hurt here. He breaks the surface with a gasp, only to do it again.

When he finally drains the tub and towels off, he feels moderately better. More assured of himself somehow, though the tightness in his chest is starting to return. Opening the door, Jayce is nowhere to be seen. But the door to the study swings open ever so slightly, as though someone had just made a hasty retreat inside. With only a towel wrapped around his waist and his crutch under his arm, Viktor marches to the doorway and pushes it open. Jayce sits at his desk, pencil in hand as though he was in the middle of work. The journal, however, is upside down.

"Oh, hi Vik," Jayce begins, trying to flip the journal around in a nonchalant way. "How was your bath?"

"I think you know, Jayce," Viktor retorts. "You aren't exactly subtle."

To his credit, Jayce gives up the pretense immediately.

"Can you blame me for being nervous? "

Viktor supposes not. If the situations were reversed, he'd be just as bad. Jayce gets up from his chair and comes to stand in front of Viktor. With one hand, he reaches out towards Viktor's chest. His fingers brush up against the gear resting against Viktor's skin. Eyes wide, Viktor stares up at him as Jayce's hand moves up along the chain to his neck. He swallows. Hard. Before any of Viktor's late night fantasies have a chance to play out, the hand comes to rest on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

"Just…take care of yourself. I don't know where I'd be without you."

Viktor nods, eyes now carefully downturned. He abruptly retreats to his own room. His heart feels like it's beating out of his chest and the image of Jayce leaning over him, his eyes so full of care and worry, makes all the blood feel like it's rushing up to his head.

To calm down, he pulls out his portable phonograph and picks out a record to play. Usually in the evenings, he'd pick something with a strong, driving beat. The kind that would echo throughout the flat and rattle the windows. But he isn't in the mood for that right now. Instead, he picks out a different Zaunite band and soon, the melancholic melody fills the room. The singer croons about wishing for better days as Viktor changes and sits at his desk to do some late night work in peace.

He'd had an epiphany during the carriage ride home. If Hextech could power a limb, say, what was to stop it from aiding a failing heart? Or a set of lungs? Sketches and diagrams of human organs mixed with Hextech augmentations spring to life under his hands. In theory, it was possible. But he had no idea how he would be allowed to test it. Slowly the pencil in his hand begins to droop. His head grows heavy in his hand. He tries to focus on the lyrics of the song, but they seem to fade in and out of his awareness. Each blink of his eyes is a little heavier than the last. Perhaps there wouldn't be any harm in resting his head on the desk. Just for a moment. What's the worst that could happen?

That was his last thought as the pencil slips from his grasp and sleep completely overtakes him once again.

Chapter Text

Chapter Fourteen

Optics

As soon as Viktor opens his eyes, he knows that Jayce must have come in and taken care of him last night.

His last memory was of listening to music and coming up with new Hextech medical devices. When he next opened his eyes and came to awareness, he’s in bed, his crutch wasn't where he left it, and there’s a glass of water and his medicine beside him.

Part of him is grateful. Of course he's grateful, how could he not be? But a smaller, bitter part of him is furious.

Not at Jayce.

Never at Jayce.

But at his body’s failings that put Jayce in this position of caretaker in the first place. He had never wished to be perceived as some sort of helpless creature, incapable of caring for itself. He knew that's what people thought of him when he walked into a room. The way their eyes filled with pity. And the way they'd talk down to him as though he was a child. He hated it. Though he knows, logically, that Jayce doesn't view him this way, it doesn't stop the hurt he feels from judging eyes. He'd wanted Jayce to be by his side, not propping him up as his body fell to pieces around him.

With a groan, he sits up and takes a few seconds to get his bearings. A breath hitches in his throat, causing him to choke and sputter for a few moments. His gear necklace swings forward, attracting his attention. He lifts up the tiny ring of metal for a better look.

Just an ordinary gear. A little too big to be worn around his finger and starting to rust slightly in the spaces between the teeth. A consequence of his refusing to ever take it off, even in the bath. It was hard to believe that this tiny piece of metal had ever flown through the air, or actually touched the Arcane. He presses it tight against his chest, relishing the tiny prick of pain as the teeth bit into his skin.

What had Jayce meant to do last night? The way he had touched it...touched him…Viktor shudders at the memory and his heart starts pounding again.

With a shake of his head, he rises from his bed. It's time to face the day.

***

Jayce isn’t up by the time Viktor makes it to the kitchen, which is highly unusual for him. Even on nights where he’s been at sponsorship parties until the early hours of the morning, he’s always up before Viktor. He checks his pocket watch to make sure he himself isn’t up at an unreasonable hour, but it’s just past 8 bells.

Shrugging, he puts on a pot of coffee and starts making one of the few dishes that Jayce trusts him with. It's not that either of them were bad cooks, per se. It's just that neither of them were good either. For Viktor in particular, standing over a stove for hours at a time leaves him feeling as drained as if he'd gone for a run around the city. Jayce, for his part, typically started cooking with great enthusiasm before getting bored half-way through and wandering off to do something else. It's a miracle that neither one of them has burnt the kitchen down yet.

He’s made a whole stack of griddle cakes by the time Jayce rushes out of his bedroom, looking disheveled. He skids to a halt in front of Viktor and the two of them just stare at each other for a beat.

Jayce always looks presentable, no matter what. Viktor honestly believes the man must have been a peacock in a former life. Seeing him with his hair mussed and stubble darkening his chin feels wrong. The panicked look he’s giving Viktor isn't helping matters either. Jayce races over and feels Viktor’s forehead before pulling his hand away with a sigh of relief. 

“Jayce, what’s going on?” Viktor asks, taking a step back. Without turning his back on Jayce, he flips the stove top off.  No need to have a repeat of yesterday.

“I’m sorry…it’s just I thought…I must have dreamed…” Jayce starts and stops, “Sorry, I can’t tell now what was real and what was nightmare.” His shoulders sag and he looks almost small. Viktor grits his teeth before speaking once again in an even tone.

“Come, let’s eat before these grow as cold as the coffee surely is by now.”

For the first time, Jayce notices the stack of griddle cakes.

"You made breakfast," he says, stating the obvious.

"Yes, and coffee. Do you want any? Or should I eat these by myself."

"Oh yes, of course. Sorry…I just…" Jayce shakes his head. "Do you need any help with anything?"

"Mm," Viktor hums. "No."

"Oh." Jayce stands there looking numb. Viktor would give just about anything to never see him looking so defeated again. It takes another coughing fit to shake them both out of their malaise. While Viktor huffs on his inhaler, Jayce scrambles to find his medication, thrusting it towards Viktor in a desperate motion, nearly knocking him to the floor. Stepping back, Viktor hits the countertop and bumps up against the stack of griddle cakes. In horror, both men watch on helplessly as the plate wobbles, straightens, then topples to the floor.

"That's two breakfasts I've ruined," Jayce whispers at the carnage surrounding them. He looks like he could cry.

Viktor can't contain himself any longer. He throws his head back and laughs. He laughs until he can't catch his breath. He slides down to the floor, sitting amidst the broken china and scattered cakes, laughing until tears prick his eyes. Jayce stares at him as though he's lost his mind.

Wiping his eyes and taking another puff of his inhaler, Viktor slowly attempts to regain his composure.

"Sorry," he wheezes. "But…we are such fools." He chuckles again as Jayce crouches down to help pull him back to his feet. "How can the two smartest men in Piltover be outwitted by breakfast…twice?"

Jayce gives him a wobbly smile. "Let's clean this up."

***

By the time they get to the lab, Jayce looks as pristine as always. You'd never know that they had spent the better part of the morning scrubbing the kitchen floors before sheepishly ordering breakfast from one of the food stalls down the block. Face perfectly shaved, hair combed and styled, and he’s wearing one of his nicer suits. Pristine white, paired with a dark blue vest and maroon tie as a nod to his house colors. He looks absolutely dashing. It's no wonder he’s Piltover’s Golden Boy.

Feeling Viktor's eyes on him, Jayce turns to him with a confident grin, a far cry from the one he'd given him earlier that day.

"Don't forget, you're coming with me to the next one of these." He straightens his cuffs and stands a little taller.

"Ah yes," Viktor says flatly. "How could I forget?"

"Don't worry," Jayce says with a grin, throwing his arm around Viktor's shoulders. "The Kiramman Gala will be way better than the Founder's Ball. The Ball's just a bunch of boring speeches, bad dancing, and terrible appetizers. Speaking of, did you get a chance to review my speech?" Viktor nods.

"Yes, it looked good. I made a few minor changes but I don't think you'll mind."

"Oh good. Hopefully, you made it shorter. My plan is to get in and get out as soon as possible." He throws another grin Viktor's way.

"Well, I hope you're not cutting the party short for my sake. I can spend some time alone in the lab, you know. I don't need a minder," Viktor says carelessly.

A look of hurt flashes across Jayce's face. "If that's what you think I—" he begins before Viktor jumps in.

"No," he amends. "No, I didn't mean to imply you are my minder. Just that I was planning on staying late at the lab tonight anyway." He looks to see if Jayce is still upset. He doesn't appear to be. At least, not at that.

Once in the lab, Jayce checks their messages while Viktor fixes them their coffee. Then they each go to their respective work stations as is their usual custom. Occasionally, Viktor will roll over on his stool to borrow Jayce's tools, or Jayce will stop by for advice regarding the rune sequence he’s working on. In the quiet of the lab, a sense of peace envelops Viktor. Things always make sense when it's just him and Jayce working together. It reminded him of the simple summer days by the river, when their biggest concern was whether they would be able to scrounge up enough scraps to match their ambitions.

Before he knows it, hours have passed and Jayce is wrapping up his work for the day. He stops by and gives Viktor's shoulder a squeeze before he leaves for the Ball.

“Don’t forget to eat something tonight. You hardly touched your lunch,” he says, putting on his suit jacket and checking his reflection in the mirror he has erected in the lab for just this purpose. “And if you need me, they have a pneuma tube center. Someone will find me.”

“You know, I was thinking of how much easier it would be if there were a machine that we could just speak into and deliver messages that way,” Viktor muses. “Maybe I will start working on that tonight. Two machines, if you speak into one, and someone else has the other, you can just talk to each other over a long distance…” Viktor trails off, glancing over at Jayce with a grin, flushing when he sees the fondness in Jayce’s eyes. While his brain continues to short circuit, Jayce comes and gives his shoulder one more lingering touch before he sweeps out the door. Viktor spends more time than he’d care to admit just staring after him, his fingers ghosting over where Jayce had touched him.

***

He feels good when he locks up the lab for the night.

He's at the point where he can start testing the Hexoskeleton on himself. The prospect excites him more than he usually lets on. His right leg twinges, seemingly in anticipation. He was also able to order the materials he thinks he'll need for the artificial heart and lungs. It will take a few weeks for them to arrive and, in the meantime, he can keep work-shopping his designs. The only thing slightly marring his good mood is the pneuma tube from the hospital he'd received soon after Jayce had left. There hadn't been much to the message. Just a few words to let him know that the blood tests have been concluded and for him to schedule a follow-up. He left the note dismissively on his worktable. The doctors could wait a week until after he's gone to this gala with Jayce.

Waiting outside the door of the flat is a bag of take-out. Jayce must have ordered it from the party. Smiling softly to himself, he brings the food inside and nibbles on it while he revises his notes from the lab. He gets through about half of the meal before his stomach starts to turn and he puts the leftovers away. He thinks about taking a bath, but the thought of having another coughing attack alone gives him pause.

Instead, he splays out on the couch and picks up some of his old biomechanical texts, reading while listening to music. It’s a pleasant way to spend an evening. Alone and unbothered. Exactly as he prefers. Just as he's about at the point where he thinks he might bathe after all, the lock turns in the door. It isn't even 11 bells and Jayce is stumbling into the apartment, suit jacket slung over one shoulder and his tie half undone. He signals for Viktor to move his feet and collapses on the couch heavily. Viktor starts to sit up, but Jayce pulls his feet back on his lap and starts to massage his bag leg absently.

“What a night,” he sighs, leaning his head back, eyes closed. He loosens his tie further, pulling it

“Speech went well, I take it,” Viktor quips. Jayce gives him a rueful smile.

“Even I have my limits on how much banality I can take.”

“Hmm, you’re making me regret my decision to join you for the next one.”

“And I’m more grateful than ever that you will. You’ll be my balm in the sea of frivolity.”

“Are you drunk?” laughs Viktor. Jayce has pulled off his tie, but he keeps one hand on Viktor’s leg. "That doesn't even make sense. Wouldn't I be your life boat? Or maybe a piece of driftwood."

“Maybe,” Jayce says softly. His cheeks are slightly flushed and he’s looking at Viktor intensely. "Maybe you'd be my life line."

Viktor feels his grin wobble a bit. He stares into Jayce’s beautiful, golden eyes and wishes desperately to just live in this moment forever. This in-between place where he and Jayce are more than friends, but not quite something else either. A place where he can pretend that these looks, these little touches, mean something more.

He breaks the moment, turning his head to hide his burning face. He feels Jayce’s eyes on him a little longer before he tips his head back again and closes his eyes. “Ugh, I’m going to have a headache tomorrow. I can already feel it.”

“Perhaps you only want me at these events to mind your drinking.” Viktor tries to find his former levity, but he still feels emotionally exposed. 

“That would help too,” Jayce groans. “I think I’ll turn in now. Try to sleep off this hangover. And I know you should get some rest too. Honestly, I'm just grateful you weren't still at the lab when I came home.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself on occasion, but yes. Let’s sleep before one of us says something we don’t mean.” It comes out slightly harsher than he intended. Jayce doesn’t seem to catch it as he chuckles and pulls himself off the couch. He holds out a hand for Viktor who accepts it. Swaying slightly, Jayce goes to his room and Viktor walks around the flat, turning out the lights and making sure everything is locked up. Before he goes to his own room he gets a glass of water and pain medication for Jayce. Entering Jayce’s room, he sees that he is already asleep, snoring lightly. He leaves the water and the medicine on the bedside table and leaves quickly.

In bed, he catalogues every look, every gesture from the day between himself and Jayce, sorting them into different categories. Section one is: Strictly Platonic. Those typically consist of the ribbing they engage in. The little inside jokes and jabs that come from a lifetime of knowing each other. Though, on occasion, one would slip through and be placed in section two: Questionable. Most interactions fell into this group, infuriatingly. Jayce seemed incapable of keeping his hands to himself around Viktor. Nor, it seems, can he stop showering Viktor with compliments and fond looks. Whether this was just Jayce being his usual self or whether he meant anything more by it is left up for debate. The final section is: Something More. Touches that last just a beat too long. A lingering glance. A soft smile when Jayce thinks that Viktor can't see him. The rake of his eyes up and down his body. Maddening. Each and every one of them. He knows he shouldn't indulge in this particular pastime. He had sworn to himself that he would stop. On a moonlit night, years ago, he had looked Jayce in the eyes and told him that he would just be his friend.

He hadn't meant to lie.

But his traitorous heart won’t stop loving Jayce. 

***

Just a few more hours and he can go home. That’s the mantra Viktor has been repeating to himself since he arrived at this wretched party. He seriously regrets ever agreeing to attend. It had been a dirty move for Jayce to ask him when he had been feeling so full and happy. Clearly, he hadn’t been in his right mind. 

The week between when Jayce had joked about him coming to now had passed in the blink of an eye and now here he was, standing in the corner of the Kiramman Manor's ballroom, praying for it to be over.

Everything about this place and these people set him on edge. He tries to imagine a tiny, twelve year old Jayce coming to this mansion every week to study and finds he can't. He can't even imagine what it would be like to call this place home like Caitlyn does. Everything is too large, too ornate, and too superficial. Even the side table he is currently hiding next to is gilded in gold. Who needs a gold side table?

He’s back in his maroon suit. It fits a little better than it did last time he wore it, all thanks to Jayce of course. It was he who had dragged Viktor back to Gwen and had it altered in time for the gala. It didn't have the same effect as it had the first time he'd ever worn it, but Jayce had still told him that he looked “very handsome” as they entered the carriage that would whisk them to the Kiramman estate. The compliment had made his cheeks burn and his hands fly to his head to smooth down any stray waves. He'd been almost excited as Jayce had led him up the stairs to the front entrance.

Now that he’s here among Piltover’s elite though, he feels massively underdressed.

The ladies, he's decided, remind him of painted birds. All bright colors and frilly lace. It didn't help that some of the women were wearing actual dead birds in the extravagant hats on their heads. Posed and perched as they would have been in life. It was ghoulish. And the men were just as elaborately dressed. Frilled epaulettes seem to be the fashion du jour, along with towering top hats adorned with flowers, feathers, and silk ribbons around the brims. The gold trim on Viktor's suit seems woefully inadequate by comparison. Even the sound of their laughter makes it clear that they exist in an entirely different tax bracket than him. There's also a disturbing sameness to them. All the young men are tall and wide shouldered, and the women graceful and willowy. It was as though they were all produced from the same mold. Only slight variations here and there betray the fact that they are, indeed, separate people.

Jayce, of course, fits in perfectly. He flits effortlessly from group to group, saying the right things, making the appropriate toasts, complimenting the ladies on their beauty and telling the men how lucky they are to have such gems by their side. He even answers the occasional question about the future of Hextech with charm and endless optimism. A beacon in white, every eye is naturally drawn to him as he moves confidently throughout the room. As for Viktor, other than some initial attention when he first walked in on Jayce's arm, he has been mostly ignored. For a brief, glorious moment, the fantasy played out. Lords and Ladies had all turned to stare as Jayce proudly introduced him as his partner. But it had soon soured. The attention had not been in regards to his contributions to science or his role as Hextech's co-founder. Viktor isn't prone to violent thoughts, but he was seriously contemplating whacking the ankles of the next person who came up to him to tell him "how brave" he was to come with a crutch and brace.

Now he stands off to one side, alone save for Caitlyn. He had retreated to this corner when he realized that there wasn't much in the way of seating arrangements. The few seats there were, little chaise lounges and sofas, had been quickly filled by elegant ladies and their enormous bustles. Looking for any out of the way space, he had been pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face. He shouldn't have been surprised to see her, it is her house after all, but he hadn't expected to see her in her cadet's uniform, ludicrously tall top hat and all, standing guard near a servants entrance that clearly doesn't need to be patrolled. They eye each other sympathetically.

"Are you here by choice or is this where you've been stationed?" Viktor asks, carefully plucking a drink from the tray of a passing servant.

Caitlyn snorts. "Stationed. Obviously. I wanted to be at the main entrance, but Mother thought that it might be too risky. So, here I am." She says it with a shrug and a rueful smile. "It was either this or join the night's event as the 'belle of the ball'."

"I see," Viktor says. He swishes his glass and raises it to the light, admiring the light amber color of the liquid within. He takes a tentative sip and hums in satisfaction. It was quite sweet and light. He takes a much larger swallow.  "Still, it can't be much fun to have to work during your family's big party." He gestures with his half finished drink to the attendees. They have naturally paired off into little groups. He's familiar enough with Piltover politics by now to know that the High Houses will be closing ranks, forming tight circles where power plays and world altering decisions will be made in-between insincere compliments and bites of finger food. The Lower Houses will flank the outside, searching desperately for an opening in which to insert themselves and raise their own standing.

As Viktor finishes his glass, he wonders if any of them actually enjoy being here.

"So," Caitlyn starts. "How are things at the lab?" She must be quite bored.

"Eh, they are fine. Jayce is the one who has the pithy sound bites. How are you? Is being an enforcer all that you imagined it would be?" He asks the question genuinely. He's been quietly worried for her since she first told him of her career aspirations. He truly believes she means only the best, but her naivete blinds her to the complexities of the situation.

She looks down, tugging nervously at the frilly short skirt that makes up her uniform.

"It's…um…" She stalls a bit. Then she sighs. "It's not at all what I expected. I thought I would be helping people. Catching bad guys and bringing them to justice. Keeping the streets safe for innocent people. Instead, I've been put on security duty for my family's events. Or only allowed to patrol the safest streets. I know it's because I'm a Kiramman." She balls her hands into fists. "The other cadets act like I am the one who requested the easy assignments. As if I'm afraid to do the job. And my superiors don't listen to me at all. Ever since Sheriff Grayson died…" Her breath hitches a little in her throat. She composes herself quickly though, before Viktor has a chance to offer her his handkerchief. "It hasn't been the same. Something's wrong, I just know it." Her cheeks flush a little with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Viktor. I didn't mean to put all of this on you."

"Please, do not worry about it." He grabs another drink to give his hands something to do. "I asked, after all. And I am sorry to hear that you are having difficulty. I know you may not want to hear this from me, but there are other ways to help besides being an enforcer." He downs the drink quickly, enjoying the fuzzy feeling it leaves in its wake. He observes her out of the corner of his eye. Caitlyn stands tall, her mouth forming a stubborn line. But her brows are pulled down in a thoughtful expression. Viktor allows himself a small, private smile. There's hope for her yet.

A small group of merchants pass by, taking no notice of the enforcer and Viktor.

"Where are those drinks?" One of the merchants demands loudly, waving an empty champagne flute aloft. "I thought you said they hid the best alcohol back here?"

"Oh hush. You never did know how to hold your liquor," snorts another of them. Viktor and Caitlyn share a look. They've clearly had too much already, as they sway and lean upon each other on their way to the tables filled with refreshments. As they pass though, Viktor's ear hones in on a part of their conversation.

"That new baron is putting on airs again. Thinks he can just put on a suit and talk and a big game and then we'll fall all over ourselves for him."

Viktor straightens. To his surprise, Caitlyn does as well, clearly listening in on the conversation going on. Was it possible that they were talking about a Chem-baron? He strains to hear a little more before they move out of earshot.

"He's been demanding free use of the Hexgates." The other merchants, minus the speaker, guffaw at this. Viktor feels a cold chill run down his spine. If this is about the Hexgates, he and Jayce should have been informed. Yet, they've heard nothing about a Zaunite Chem-baron requesting use of the Hexgates.

"Oh, please. Like he has a leg to stand on. Isn't it enough that we allow him to send his little shipments? You'd think that puny sump-rat believes he's one of us." This new merchant speaking snatches a drink from a passing tray as the others snicker behind their hands.

Viktor wracks his brain as to who they could mean. Chross is the first name that comes to mind, but the details don't make sense. He looks back over to Caitlyn to see if anything the merchants have been saying means anything to her.

She's glaring at the merchants with a slight frown. She cocks her head to the side and Viktor can practically see the gears of her mind turning. He opens his mouth to ask for her thoughts when a familiar presence drives everything else his mind.

Jayce has come bounding over to them, grinning widely. He grabs two drinks off of yet another passing tray, handing one to Viktor as he finishes his own with a quick motion.

"Viktor!" he says loudly, leaning against the other man heavily. "There you are! I thought I lost you in the crowd. Why aren't you sitting? You should be resting your leg and back." He notices Caitlyn standing beside Viktor and his grin widens.

"Sprout! Hard at work guarding the servant's quarters? Making sure they don't steal any of the desserts away for themselves I see." He chuckles a little at his own joke as Caitlyn rolls her eyes fondly. He leans heavily against the gold side table and for the first time since the party began, deflates a little.

“Seriously, you have no idea how glad I am that you two are here,” he says quietly, shoulders slumped. "It's brutal out there."

“Really?” Viktor asks, a little surprised. “It seemed that you were having quite the time. I’m amazed that some lovely young thing hasn’t asked you to dance yet.” Couples are beginning to gather on the dance floor. The string quartet in the opposite corner, who up to this point had only been playing sedate background music, have started a lively waltz. Ladies peek over their fans coquettishly at those they wish would invite them to the dance floor. Caitlyn's eyes look on longingly at some of the ladies, one of whom is wearing a gentleman's suit, leg rakishly resting on a footstool near the fire. The lady smiles over at the trio, her white teeth flashing in glaring contrast to the dark red painted on her lips. She winks at Caitlyn while blowing a kiss, then turns and laughs along with her friends as Caitlyn's cheeks turn bright pink.

"You going on a break soon?" Jayce nudges her shoulder. "I noticed you've been staring over at those ladies. I'm sure they'd love your company."

"No," Caitlyn shakes her head vigorously. "I went to school with them. They're just teasing me." Her cheeks remain flushed. She shifts her weight from foot to foot as the giggling from the other girls floats over to them.

“Well, suit yourself.” Jayce shrugs. “And to answer your question, V, I’d rather be here with you. I’m not really one for dancing.” Viktor glances at him sharply.  

“I can’t believe that.” The Jayce in Viktor's imaginings was brilliant at everything. Up to and including mastering ballroom dance.

“Believe what you want. It’s good that you’re here though. There are Council members attending tonight. Us being here together will help show a more united front.” Jayce grabs another drink from a passing tray, this one a dark colored wine.

“I wasn’t aware we weren’t united.” Viktor squeezes the handgrip of his crutch.

“We are…but it is all about optics.”

“I didn’t think you cared about such things.”

“Mel’s been teaching me,” Jayce admits. “She knows a lot about this sort of thing. She says that we need to learn when to meet expectations, and when to defy them." Feeling the weight of Viktor's gaze, Jayce puts his arm around his shoulders and murmurs confidentially, "Come on, I am expected to do at least one dance. But let's get closer so you can laugh at me when I step on some poor lady’s toes." In a louder voice he says, "Bye, Sprout! I trust you to keep us safe!” He taps her ridiculous hat, knocking it slightly askew. She once again rolls her eyes as she jams the hat more firmly on her head.

"It was a pleasure as always, Ms. Kiramman," Viktor says with a slight bow. She grins widely at him.

"No need to be so formal, Viktor. 'Caitlyn' is fine. Now, go keep him from breaking an ankle," she laughs out. With a final bow, Viktor leaves the safety of the corner and picks his way carefully to the dance floor.

Viktor nurses another drink and nibbles on some tasteless cracker topped with a swirl of salty green paste as Jayce gets pulled into a dance. Then another. He loses sight of him during the last dance and is startled to suddenly find Jayce back by his side.

"Did you see me?" he pants. "Honestly, I hope you didn't. I may have broken the lady's toe."

Viktor spots Jayce's former dance partner rubbing her foot surreptitiously. He laughs lightly, every other thought erased from his mind other than that Jayce practically glows under the bright lights of the Kiramman Great Hall. Viktor decides that this part of evening, the part where he can be Jayce’s side, chuckling at his ridiculous observations, stuffing their cheeks with tiny desserts, or debating heatedly about the differences between Piltovan and Zaunite dishes, is the highlight of the festivities. It almost takes away the sting of his earlier comment about unity.

“It’s about the spices! Piltover dishes taste like nothing!” Viktor says, his voice elevated and cheeks flushed with drink. He’s lost count how many he’s had over the course of the night.

“It’s not about that. It’s about the freshness and quality of the ingredients,” Jayce intones, his own cheeks equally flush. “And don’t let my mother hear you say that. Her feelings will be hurt.”

“Oh, your mother doesn’t count and you know it. Martha is a gift and besides, most of the dishes she makes are Ixtali or Freljordic anyway.” Viktor takes another swig, “But I’ll admit your wine is pretty good.”

“Yes,” comes a third voice with a hint of amusement. “It can really sneak up on you though, so be careful.”

“Mel!” Jayce exclaims, wrapping her in a warm embrace. Viktor gives a nod in greeting. He’s feeling a bit unsteady on his feet and doesn’t trust himself to do more. It's she who comes over and receives him, placing a light kiss on each cheek.

She looks stunning, but then, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen her when she didn’t. She hasn’t followed Piltovan fashion at all. Instead of bustles and hats, she’s wearing a tight red and black dress with slits all the way up to her thighs. Her hair has been twisted into an intricate bun at the back of her head with gold bands delicately placed throughout. It perfectly complimented the golden geometric tattoos running up and down her arms and legs and the gold lines painted on her face. She smiles warmly at the two of them, swirling a champagne flute in her hand. Elora appears by her side in similar dress. She and Viktor share a knowing smile in greeting.

“It’s good to see the two of you here tonight. Are you ready for our meeting tomorrow, Jayce?”

“Yes, of course! Viktor and I really appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedule.” 

"It's my pleasure. Anything to help my favorite inventors." She takes a delicate sip of wine. Then, voice soft, "It really is good to see the two of you, together," she confides. "I've been picking up through the whisper channels that the two of you caused quite a stir when you arrived. That's good for business."

"I think my crutch was the cause of the commotion, not myself." Viktor says it as a joke, but Mel gives him a gentle touch on his shoulder.

"Try not to let them get to you," she advises. "You have something they want. Use that against them." She gives both their hands an affectionate squeeze before she glides away, Elora trailing behind her protectively. Viktor watches her go up to a group of immaculately dressed Heads of House, who all greet her cordially.

As the music starts to swell for another round of dancing, Jayce wraps his arm around his shoulder again and whispers in his ear, “Are you ready to go?”

“Please.”

***

They both fall asleep soon after the carriage starts its return trip. Jayce was the first to succumb, leaning heavily on Viktor's shoulder. Viktor fights a little longer to remain awake. He stares out the window at the other shiny mansions and walled gardens. The light of the street lamps reflecting off all of the gold outshines the stars. Before they've even left Upper Piltover, his own head droops, resting against the top of Jayce's.

"Oi," the carriage driver calls out, rapping loudly at the door. "I don't have all night." Viktor sits up with a start as Jayce groans and rubs his eyes.

"One second," Jayce replies, voice still hoarse with sleep. He feels around for his change purse, then helps Viktor descend the carriage steps a little unsteadily. After leaving the driver a hefty tip for the long drive, they stumble groggily up the stairs to their flat. It takes Jayce three tries to even get the key in the lock while Viktor leans heavily against the wall, smiling at nothing. After the fourth try, they finally get through the door and collapse on the couch in a tangle of arms and legs. Somewhere behind them, Viktor hears his crutch fall to the floor. He groans.

“I think I’ll just sleep here tonight,” he slurs. “The room is spinning too much to move.”

Jayce suddenly seems to sober up a bit as he asks seriously, “But what about your braces? You can’t sleep in them can you?” Viktor sits up with another groan. 

“I was only joking. You don’t need to worry so much,” Viktor says. He stretches his aching muscles and tries and fails to suppress a cough. He had hoped these attacks were over, but it appears that he will have no such luck. The alcohol is no doubt not helping in this regard. Jayce jumps up and helps Viktor to his feet. 

“Where’s your medicine? I’ll get you a glass of water—”

“I’m fine Jayce, let’s go to bed.” Viktor just wants to sleep and he’s already dreading how he'll feel in the morning. "We have a great deal to do tomorrow."

"At least take a painkiller and have some water. Trust me, while it won't prevent a hangover, you'll really regret it if you don't." Jayce gets up to retrieve said medication and water. Viktor remains on the couch as Jayce bangs around the kitchen. He never wants to go to one of these again. Though he does have new appreciation for Jayce. There was more to these parties than just drinking and dancing. There was a delicate balancing act at play. Knowing when to show your teeth and who to show your belly to. Flattery mixed with subtle threats. Be too aggressive and no one will work with you. Be too obsequious and be forever at the beck and call of those above you. Viktor feels another headache coming on just thinking about it. When Jayce comes back from the kitchen and hands him the medicine, he swallows it down dutifully.

"There we go," Jayce says with a sigh, collapsing on the couch again. "What a night." He lays his head back, looking as though he's ready to fall asleep. Before Viktor has a chance to once again suggest sleep, or make a move to help Jayce to his feet, the other man turns to face him with a sleepy smile. "That was the most fun I've had at one of these parties in ages. Did you see that they had a cake shaped like a swan?"

"No, I must have missed that," Viktor admits. What he doesn't say is that it was because Jayce had captured his attention the entire time.

"Well there was. I wanted to get us a piece. Sorry, I'll do better next time," Jayce mumbles. He looks barely awake. His eyes half-lidded and each blink a little slower than the last. With the alcohol still making him brave, Viktor reaches out a hand and runs his fingers through Jayce's dark locks. Jayce hums and leans into the touch in a way that makes Viktor's heart stutter.

"Come," he says softly, his fingers still tangled in Jayce's hair. "We need to get to sleep." Reluctantly, he removes his hands and stands, leaning his weight on his good leg, then reaches back to pull Jayce up. After a groan, Jayce allows himself to be helped and staggers down the hall to his bedroom. Once sure that Jayce has actually made it to his bed, and not fallen asleep near his bed as used to happen after these late nights, he makes the short walk past the study and into his own room.

By now, his head has started pounding, despite the precautions they'd taken. Sleep will not be in his cards tonight, though he still goes through the motions of getting ready for bed. Lying back, he pulls out his notes. He will not be letting this night go to waste.