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Chapter Text

Caitlyn was absolutely exhausted. Despite the fact spring break was only a day away, her workload felt endless. She’d specifically organized her semester lesson plan to ease up for the last week before letting out to make it easier on both her and her students. That was, until the dean of her college had encouraged her to slip in one last assignment right before the spring holiday.

It’ll be easy. And you’ll have plenty of time to grade them. Caitlyn scoffed audibly to herself.

“Yeah. Thanks, Marcus,” she grumbled, clicking the pen in her hand over and over. She’d been staring at her framed bachelors degree hung on the wall as if it was personally mocking her as she tried to slough through essays. 

She could’ve been relaxing at home, a few glasses deep into a bottle of wine and lounging in bed. Instead, she’d been holed up in her office, taking a red pen to paper after paper till her wrist was cramping. Needless to say, Caitlyn was one minute away from clawing at the walls and throwing her office chair through the window.

She tried to force herself through more essays, her too-be-read stack on the corner of her desk embarrassingly tall, but with every word she read felt like dragging her brain through molasses. She was only broken away from her downward spiral of frustration and burnout by the quiet ping of an incoming text message.

Caitlyn sat up straight, grabbing blindly for her phone on the desk beside her.

“Please don’t be junk,” she begged, needing a genuine mental respite from the 12-point font paragraphs burned behind her eyes.

Vi (8:03PM): Hey Cait.

Vi (8:03PM): You still up?

Her heart swelled, her friend lighting up her phone the respite she was desperately seeking. She sat back, giving her aching spine a moment of relief after hunching over her desk.

Caitlyn (8:03PM): I fell asleep early one time. Don’t you think the joke is past its prime?

Vi (8:04PM): It’s cute. You’re turning into a granny at twenty-four.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes, knowing that Vi could feel her expression through the phone, even if she couldn’t see it.

Vi (8:04PM): Still grading papers?

Caitlyn (8:04PM): Ugh. Yes. Don’t remind me.

She turned her office chair to face away from her desk, not wanting to see her never-ending stack of papers even in her peripheral.

Caitlyn (8:04PM): Are you on break?

Vi (8:05PM): Yeah. Working a ‘tween shift tonight.

Caitlyn (8:05PM): Slow tonight?

She could see Vi hesitate for a moment, the bubbles appearing and disappearing once, twice.

Vi (8:06PM): Busy, actually. Like, really busy.

Vi (8:06PM): But I get good tips

Caitlyn let out a soft sigh, tilting her head to the side as she typed her reply.

Caitlyn (8:07PM): Just because you’re getting paid doesn’t mean you have to suffer.

Vi (8:07PM): Putting that psych degree to good use, Cupcake?

Vi (8:07PM): You never let me just say I’m on the grind.

Caitlyn (8:08PM): Because it’s true. You work too hard.

Vi (8:08PM): Coming from the grad student who’s stuck in her office on a Friday night.

Caitlyn rolled her eyes. Again. It’s what Vi deserved. Besides, she could throw it right back at her gym rat of a best friend.

Caitlyn (8:08PM): Hey. Didn’t you also get up early this morning to lift?

Vi was silent for a moment, their text thread quiet while Vi searched for an excuse for her diminishing sleep schedule.

Vi (8:09PM): Yeah. How else can I maintain these babies?

Vi (8:09PM): ATTACHMENT: 1 IMAGE

Caitlyn scoffed, opening the image to see one of Vi’s many gratuitous gym mirror selfies her Instagram was full of; black sports bra and sweatpants, a pair of headphones over her ears as she smirked in front of the weight rack. 

Caitlyn (8:09PM): Bribing me with muscle pics isn’t gonna work. I can smell your sweat from the other side of the screen.

She giggled just at the thought of Vi’s mock-offended look behind the screen.

Vi (8:10PM): Ouch. 

Vii (8:10PM): Maybe you just need to see more :)

Caitlyn (8:10PM): I don’t. I really don’t.

Vi (8:10PM): I think you do.

Vi (8:10PM): ATTACHMENT: 2 IMAGES

Caitlyn begrudgingly opened them, to find one photo of Vi flexing her tricep with her arm clasped and stretched out behind her, that smirk on her face like she knew she looked good. And she did. Caitlyn wasn’t blind.

The other attachment she’d sent was a short video clip of Vi showing off her back muscles, her inked skin rippling as she drew her arms up behind her head. 

Vi (8:11PM): Did it work? Am I off the hook?

Caitlyn became aware of the fact that she was smiling, and widely at that.

Caitlyn (8:11PM): Not in the slightest. 

Caitlyn (8:11PM): But I’ll let it slide. For now.

She glanced up at her mirror on the wall, and yeah, she was smiling like an idiot down at her phone. Vi always had the ability to make a shitty day easier to stomach, just by being her ridiculous, charming self. 

She glanced back at her phone when it buzzed

Vi (8:11PM): Looks like it’ll have to be. Break’s ending.

Caitlyn (8:12PM): Nooo, don’t leave meee.

It was a genuine plea. Caitlyn wanted to stay in this little bubble for as long as she could. She sighed to herself when Vi sent her reply, letting her down gently. 

Vi (8:12PM): I gotta. Vander needs me.

Caitlyn (8:13PM): Tell him I say hi.

Caitlyn (8:13PM): Have a good shift, Vi.

Vi (8:13PM): Have a good night, Cait.

Caitlyn stared at the text thread another few minutes before setting her phone back down. She felt lighter, less like she was ready to rip her hair out. Slowly, she turned her chair back to face the desk, reaching out to grab the essay at the top of her stack, pausing to test if her frustration flared to how she’d been before. When she didn’t immediately flinch at the idea of marking up another paper, she carefully picked up her pen and started reading.

“Incorrect formatting”, she thought to herself, but setting the paper side. Another she just simply wrote “nice work”, and another “satisfactory”. She could hear Vi snickering in her head at the word choice, but what else could she say? It was a decent paper, and she was an academic professional, even if she acted more like  “a Victorian noble” in her friends’ eyes.

She’d gotten through maybe four or five essays when her phone pinged again, vibrating on the desktop beside her.

Caitlyn turned her head curiously, setting down her pen and picking up her phone. Did Vi send her another smug selfie? Or was it just a junk message?

She felt a flicker of relief when she saw it wasn’t a spam caller,  but as her eyes moved to the message itself, the contentment Vi had provided for her faded.

Cassandra (8:22PM): Hi, Caitlyn. Your father and I hope you’re doing well at university. We look forward to seeing you this week.

Caitlyn blinked at the message, her brain overheating as she tried to recall anything in her memory outside of the past few hours. When it finally clicked, she cursed.

“Shit.”

This week. Spring break. Tomorrow.

Shit.

She’d completely forgotten her mother had invited her out to the old Kiramman house for the holiday. 

She hadn’t even replied to the message weeks before, when her mother had initially invited her, holding off for some magical excuse that could keep her in her apartment. But the idea had never come, and she’d never written back.

God, she’d left her own mother on read, the very same woman who took anything outside of direct refusal as acceptance.

Cassandra (8:23PM): What time do you need your father to pick you up?

Caitlyn winced, staring at the message thread. She brought her thumb up to her lips, biting at her nail as she scrambled for something to say. 

Finally, she just settled on something curt and to the point.

Caitlyn (8:24PM): I don’t have a ticket.

It was technically the truth. But with her mother, not even a missing plane ticket was enough of an excuse.

Ask for forgiveness. Never permission. It was her mother’s favorite saying, one she’d heard many times as a kid, whenever her mother thought her advice was worth soliciting. Caitlyn tried the same philosophy, hoping it was her best way out.

Caitlyn (8:24PM): I’m sorry. I forgot to buy one when we first discussed the visit. 

She could only imagine her mother’s glowering expression on the other end of the phone, looking down at Caitlyn’s meager excuse over the bridge of her nose.

Cassandra (8:24): You’re forgiven.

She could hear the words in her mother’s voice as if she was in the room with her, sat in the upholstered chair across her desk with perfect posture, hands clasped in her lap as she searched for the right words to make Caitlyn feel infinitely embarrassed while she could remain calm and collected. 

The following silence on her mother’s end of the text thread made her a little queasy, the waiting agonizing until finally her phone buzzed again.

Cassandra (8:26PM): Don’t worry about the ticket. We’ll see you soon.

Then, a link popped up beneath the message, a link to a ticket and boarding pass. 

Caitlyn would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it all if she was anyone else. But it was exactly like her mother to book her a seat on a plane less than 48 hours before it took off, and on one of the most expensive weekends of the year.  

Look at what I’ll do for you, was the hidden message in her mother’s texts, look at what you’re choosing to hole up in your apartment over.

Caitlyn opened the link, wondering if her mother had gone so far as to book her a coach seat, but once her boarding pass loaded, there was a much bigger issue than if her mother had plucked out a more expensive seat for her.

Her mother had bought two tickets. Not one.

Caitlyn wondered if it was a mistake, a misclick, but she shook the thought away just as quickly. Her mother was intentional with everything she did. 

She exhaled with a frustrated huff as she reopened the text thread, carefully perfecting her response. The last thing she wanted was to give her mother the satisfaction of fitting into the mold of the still-petulant Kiramman child.

Caitlyn (8:27): Mother, you paid for two.

Cassandra (8:28): Yes, two.

Her mother wasn’t budging. Caitlyn groaned again, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

Caitlyn (8:28): I’m not dating anyone right now. I’ve already told you and Dad that several times. 

Cassandra (8:28): You don’t need to keep secrets, Caitlyn.

Caitlyn sat back in her chair, letting out another groan. Where was this even coming from? Her parents, and her mother especially had been hinting for months that Caitlyn didn’t need to keep secrets about her life as a professor. 

Her life updates she sent to her family couldn’t have been that boring, could they?

Caitlyn (8:29): There is no secret, Mother. 

Cassandra (8:29): If you insist, then you can use the spare seat for your carry-on. Or use it to bring your cat if you so desire.

Cassandra (8:29) Your father will pick you up at 4:00.

Caitlyn tossed her phone onto the table, pressing the heels of her palms to her eyelids. 

If she wasn’t losing her mind before, she was certainly losing it now. Her fingers tugged at the charm of her necklace – her family crest – pulling it away from her collarbone as if it was burning a brand into her skin.

She looked back at her pile of papers, and finally gave in, opening her desk drawer and locking them away. She couldn’t even think about grading anything else now. Not with how her blood was practically boiling.

She pushed herself out of her seat, gathering her things to leave, bag slung over her shoulder as she pulled her office door open. 

One conversation with her mother and she was a wreck, her night plummeting to as bad as before she had been before Vi checked up on her.

Caitlyn paused, that last thought swirling around in her head as she tried to process it.

Vi. 

Vi could always be a soothing balm in the midst of the chaotic life she’d built for herself, who made her laugh when nothing else could lift her mood, and who just so happened to still be working her shift at The Last Drop.

Caitlyn flicked her office lights off.

Packing for her flight could wait. She knew exactly how she hoped to spend the rest of her evening. 

Chapter Text

Vi rested her forearms on the bar top, stretching out her shoulders in hopes of weaning away some of the stiffness tightening the muscles under her skin. She tilted her neck back and forth, listening to it crack. 

Her shift at The Last Drop had been gruelling to say the least, an evening full of rowdy customers pouring in, asking for drawn-out drink orders that made Vi’s brow tick. Most nights, her regulars were easy to work with; an Old Fashioned here, a Martini there, and a Cosmo she made every time Babette stopped by. But tonight was different, filled with a party crowd that hoped The Last Drop could work as a replacement for the club under construction down the street. 

Vi’s head had been pounding from all the noise hours ago. Now, she could barely tell the difference between the bass of the music playing through the overhead speakers, and the pacing of her own throbbing headache. 

“You good, kid?” Sevika called out, startling Vi from where she’d been staring off at a wooden coaster. She glanced over as the other woman grabbed her water bottle from under the bartop, its sides covered in homemade stickers, courtesy of Jinx.

“Yeah, all good,” Vi said, though her voice was a little breathless, wound tight just like the rest of her body. Sevika only blinked at her unconvinced, able to read her like a book. 

Vi knew she looked a little worse for wear behind the bar – not so far as to say she was ready to keel over on top of the anti-fatigue mats – but enough that her facade of comfort wasn’t masking how much her face screamed “my lower back is aching like shit!”

Instead, she only prayed that the dim lights in the bar hid her sweaty pallor. The last thing she wanted was Vander tapping her out early.

“How many nights have you worked this week?” Sevika asked.

“Been here since Sunday,” Vi replied, trying to subtly wipe away the dampness clinging to her forehead.

“Shit, Vi. You ever heard of a day off?”

Vi looked away, grabbing her own water bottle from under the counter and taking a long-needed gulp.

“I get off tomorrow. Vander wouldn’t give me any more.”
“Yeah. With good reason,” Sevika said, patting Vi’s shoulder. Vi could only scoff in response. Only she could be to blame, practically begging her dad for the extra hours.

You know, if you need the money, I’m happy to spot you, Vander had insisted.

It’s not about the money. I just like being there for you, she’d replied, hoping that tugging at her old man’s heart strings would be enough to avoid another conversation about how she was overworking herself. 

Vi felt Sevika squeeze her shoulder, and she glanced back up at the other woman.

“Go take a break.”

“I already took it,” Vi answered, surprised by how convincingly firm the words came out, like she could do this all night. 

Sevika pulled Vi away from the draft beers anyway, and Vi knew then that wouldn’t budge. She never did. 

“Then take another one. You’ve been nonstop all week. Even Mylo and Claggar used to hide away for a few minutes on a tough shift.”

Vi sighed, ready to open her mouth to protest one more time when Sevika fixed her with a look that let her know that any excuse would be useless.

“Go grab something to eat, and be back in twenty. Not ten and a water break behind the bar that you can cut off when someone conveniently wants a club soda. Twenty.”

Vi was ready to chip in – that she wasn’t even hungry, or that she was only off her game because some customer had to ask “where exactly their limoncello came from” like he wanted the damn street address during rush – but her stomach grumbled, and the idea of stuffing her face with some fresh fries from the kitchen was more than appealing.

She gave in.

“Fine. I’ll be back in twenty,” she grumbled, grabbing her water bottle from under the counter, “don’t go stealing all my tipping customers.” 

As if the ladies didn’t already slide Sevika some extra cash because she was effortlessly charming to walk-ins.

“Like I'd need the help,” she replied over her shoulder as Vi walked away.

She headed to the kitchen window, where one of the head cooks slid her a plate of the house fries — cheese, gravy, and a sauce Vi swore she would bathe in if she could — Mylo and Claggar’s own concoction from before they hit the road in their food truck.

She accepted it with thanks before pushing herself out the side door, climbing up the fire escape for the second story where she could sit away from all the noise.

The hot food was heavenly, and Vi groaned in relief at being able to lay back on the metal mesh and stretch her back out, just staring up at the sky above her.

“Not too bad,” she muttered. Then, a minute or two later, once the quiet got too stifling, she pulled out her phone, scrolling through her contacts. 

Caitlyn was probably still swimming in professor business, and Vi told herself she’d harassed her friend for long enough that evening.

She scrolled past her, pausing when her finger hovered over Jinx’s profile. 

She didn’t want to be an overbearing sister. Really. But the house was so much quieter without her little sister around, always making a ruckus or blaring her music so loud in the basement, it was a wonder she hadn’t blown her eardrums.

Now, mornings were silent, stiff – Vander reading the newspaper over his eggs, and Vi mindlessly eating whatever she’d meal-prepped for the week – wandering  aimlessly around the apartment to avoid Vander pinning her down with another conversation about not putting too much on her plate.

Vi sighed, opening the message thread. What was she good for, if not pestering her sister on a late Friday night?

Vi (10:47pm): Hey Pow, just wanted to check in. How’d your chem exam go?

Then she sent her sister a picture of the fries, just to laugh when her sister inevitably called her a blood traitor for not shipping a second serving to her dorm. 

She snickered when she watched the three dot bubble appear almost immediately, her sister typing back.

Jinx (10:49): Where’s mine? Asshole.

Vi (10:49): Ask Mylo and Claggar. Maybe they’ll make a pit stop.

Jinx (10:49): Yeah yeah.

Jinx (10:50): Still pissed off tho.

Jinx (10:50): Keep flaunting wealth in my face, why don’t you?

Vi (10:50): Perks of not having some big fancy degree, huh?

Jinx (10:51): Shut up. My professor makes me want to throw a brick through his window.

Jinx (10:52): Kidding. Obviously. 

Jinx (10:52): Mostly.

Jinx (10:52): Idk.

Jinx (10:52): Chem test went good though. I got a 93.

Vi smiled, forcing away the memories of when her sister would squeal in excitement when she’d aced one of her stupid quizzes back in high school. She did not need to start reminiscing right now.

Vi (10:53): Nice job, Pow.

Jinx’s response was slower this time, the typing bubbles appearing and disappearing again and again.

Jinx (10:53): Thanks.

Vi typed out another message. 

Her sister was tired. That much was obvious after cramming for her exam all week. So instead of goofing off with her another few minutes, keeping the conversation going by the skin of her teeth, she let her sister off the hook. 

Vi (10:53): Go to bed, Pow. You don’t have to stay up for my sake.

The bubbles vanished for a while, before reappearing.

Jinx (10:53): How do you always know?

Vi (10:54): I just do.

Vi (10:54): Night, Pow

Baby Sis (10:55): Night, sis

She watched the dots pop up one more time before vanishing.

Baby Sis (10:56): Don’t kill anyone.

Vi snorted at the phone screen, staring at her cursor blink in and out. It was nice talking to her sister, but the conversation felt way too short. Most did, ever since her sister left again for the spring semester a few months prior. 

Genius doesn’t wait for anyone, Jinx would joke. And Vi knew it was true. She just wished there could be an exception made for her.

She closed Jinx’s contact, just staring out at the city lights in a daze for the rest of her break.

“Just a few more weeks,” she reminded herself, and Jinx would be back for spring break, and Mylo and Claggar would be sticking around too. A little mote of hope flickered in her gut at the thought.

Just a few more weeks of long shifts, and her family would be back together. Her nights wouldn’t be so quiet anymore. The apartment wouldn’t feel so haunted. Just a little longer working at the bartop, and listening to Vander grumble how she was working too much.

When Vi finally made her way down the fire escape and back inside, she felt less like a dead woman walking, and hated to admit that maybe Sevika was right about needing a minute away from the soda gun.

The rest of her shift passed by without the same torturous slowness, Vi pouring draft beers and mixing the same typical cocktails as most of the noisy crowd trickled out. Her head was still in a funk, but she felt less like she was running on fumes.

She was in the middle of popping the caps on a table’s beers when she heard a voice behind her, an unmistakable clipped accent Vi had grown all-too-used to listening to.

“Hey, hot stuff. How much to get a Gin and Tonic around here?”

Vi snickered, feeling a smile spread across her face. She set the beers on a tray and turned around.

“Hot stuff?”

She turned to see her closest friend — the drop-dead gorgeous woman that Vi had been achingly head over heels with for the past three years — sitting on the stool in front of her, smiling that classic smile of hers. 

She was dressed casually for once, a faded Piltover University sweatshirt softened from years of wear over a plain button up. 

“Sure. Hot stuff. It suits you, doesn’t it?” Caitlyn teased, resting her elbow on the bar. She was able to hold together her suave mask for about three seconds before she was giggling sheepishly and reaching to fiddle absently with her necklace.

“I thought you had papers to grade?” Vi asked, wiping a glass dry.

Caitlyn groaned, slumping back in her chair for a moment before her teenage etiquette classes kicked back in. Vi fixed Caitlyn with her Gin and Tonic, even spoiling Caitlyn by rolling the rim in sugar before she slid it across the counter.

“I do, but I’ll just have to finish grading them after the break."

She leaned forward on her elbows, resting her head in her hands as she sipped her drink from its straw.

“This is much better than K-cup coffee,” she admitted, quieter, relief spreading across her features.

“Is it?” Vi asked playfully, feeling a bit of pity for the woman in front of her, far from her typical picture of sophistication, her mussed-up ponytail desperately trying to hold all of her stray hairs together.

Vi finished arranging her tray when Caitlyn picked her head up again.

“When do you get off?”

“Eh, twenty minutes or so?” she said, squinting up at the clock on the wall.

Caitlyn nodded, her eyes fixing on the drink in front of her again, her brow furrowed the way it always did when Caitlyn was trying to work something out in her head.

“I’ll be right back,” Vi told her, leaving Caitlyn to her inner machinations as she stepped out from behind the bar, guiding her tray carefully to the table in the corner. The group  cheered as she handed them the bottles one by one. 

Vi turned her head to see Caitlyn still at the bar, her lithe fingers reaching up into her hair and pulling her hair free from her ponytail – what was left of it anyway after a long day of frustratedly toying with it –  letting her dark hair slip free over her shoulders. It was so silky and light, Vi always wanted to be carding her fingers through it.

Then, when she realized she’d been staring at her friends’ hair of all things for way longer than she should ever care to look, she forced her eyes away until her gaze landed back on the clock on the wall. 

Fifteen minutes left in her shift. Fifteen long minutes. 

Vi didn’t want to get hopeful, and she most definitely didn’t want to jinx herself, but at this rate, she might actually end the night on a high note.

She weaved her way between tables as she made her way back to the bar, Caitlyn’s fingers toying with the rim of her Gin and Tonic, and a playful smile on her face as she watched Vi come closer.

But clearly, as if the universe had been listening to her silent plea, wanting to remind her of her ever-shitty luck, it sent her hurtling towards a girl with an embroidered “Bachelorette” sash and perfectly-styled blonde curls.

Vi heard her first, some drunken snort-laugh falling out of her freshly-glossed lips, but by the time the alarms in her brain went off, it was already too late. The girl stumbled backwards into Vi’s path, wobbling on her bubblegum pink heels that hurt Vi just to look at, before her balance inevitably gave out.

In a matter of seconds, Vi had gone from hopeful for an easy wrap-up for the night, to a half-drank Vodka Cranberry spilling down the front of her shirt.

So much for a good end to her shift.