Archive of Our Own ^beta

Sweat trickled down my forehead as I wrestled with the stubborn, metallic gears, careful not to slice my fingers. For weeks, I’d been crouched over this same piece of equipment, an artifact of the Undercity long overdue for repairs. Luckily, I had connections. Good connections. Deadlines? They could afford to be missed.

I glanced toward the door to my left, a grin tugging at my lips. Loris stumbled in with a dramatic gasp, tossing his shield into the nearest corner and ripping off his gloves. His headband hung low, barely keeping his unruly hair in check. Before I could react, he flopped into my chair with all the grace of a falling brick.

“I’ve got a job for you,” he muttered, his gaze fixed on my hands, still fiddling with the stubborn machinery. He grabbed a stray bolt from the cluttered table and rolled it absently between his calloused fingers. “Payment upfront.”

I set the tool down with a deliberate clink and folded my arms, leaning back against the creaky chair. I studied him for a moment—his disheveled appearance, the urgency in his eyes. Loris always had stupid ideas, but today... he seemed more serious.

I chuckled. “Alright, what do ya need? Shimmer?”

He cracked a grin but shook his head. “Normally, I wouldn’t say no, but this is different.” He flicked the bolt back onto the table, then leaned in, legs spread, his expression suddenly serious. “It’s about a friend.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Okay… nice?”

Loris shook his head, his eyes hardening. “Do you remember Powder and Violet?”

The names hit me like a sledgehammer. My stomach twisted, and for a split second, my ears buzzed as the memories surged back. I laughed, though it came out rougher than I meant it to. “No. No way, Loris. I’ve told you before—I’m not working for Jinx or her band of loose cannons. I don’t care what the Undercity offers me.”

“Kid, listen.” He leaned in closer, one of his large hands settling on my shoulder. His grip was firm but somehow gentle, and a faint, sympathetic smile softened his rugged features. “No one’s asking you to work for Jinx. This is about Vi.”

My heart thudded, faster than I liked. I’d tried to bury the thought of her, tried to lock away the memory of her—tried to convince myself I’d moved on. But the truth was, I hadn't. Not really. I hadn't seen Vi since we were kids, and yet, something stirred deep inside me - something raw, unfinished, like a wound that never healed.

My parents had dragged me to Piltover, chasing promises of a brighter future. They had a vision of a life far away from the chaos of the Undercity. But no matter how far I went, it always pulled me back—the desperation, the noise, the people who never got to leave.

Loris squeezed my shoulder again, snapping me out of my thoughts.

“What does she need?” I asked cautiously, my voice tight, betraying the unease I felt. “Isn’t she still with the Enforcers? Why the hell would she need me when she’s got Hextech at her fingertips?”

He straightened, brushing off imaginary dust from his pants, his gaze unwavering. “After all the chaos with Caitlyn and her sudden thirst for revenge, she’s drifting away from the Enforcers. Vi doesn’t fit in there anymore.”

I snorted, bitterness creeping into my tone. “Now it’s too much for her? Convenient. She didn’t seem to have an issue betraying Zaun and throwing in with Piltover during the war—”

“Y/N.” Loris’s voice sliced through my anger, irritation flashing in his eyes, his tone hardening. “Am I not on Piltover’s side? Do you hold the same grudge against me?”

I faltered, eyes dropping to the floor. “No, it’s... different,” I muttered, the words feeling heavy, suffocating in my throat. “If you’d seen what we went through back then—if you’d been there... you’d never side with them... but she... she did.” The weight of the past pressed down on me, my chest tight with old pain.

Loris was silent for a beat, watching me, before he leaned in closer. “Are you in or not?” he pressed, his patience wearing thin. His voice softened just enough to remind me of the stakes. “She needs new weapons. The Hextech gauntlets she had? Gone. And I don’t know anyone who can replace them. I need you, kid.”

Flattery. Classic Loris. Still, his words lingered. He’d helped me keep this workshop afloat more times than I could count. Turning him down now felt... wrong. A debt I wasn’t sure I could ignore.

I sighed, rubbing my temples. “Fine.”

Loris’s grin lit up the room, practically contagious. Before I could react, he pulled me into a bear hug so tight, I could’ve sworn he was trying to crush the life out of me. My face was smushed against his chest, the smell of grease and sweat strangely comforting.

He ruffled my hair, and I groaned, knowing it was going to be a tangled mess afterward - sure enough, it stood up like a startled bird’s nest.

“You won’t regret this, little one!” he laughed, squeezing me one more time before pulling away.

I took a long, deep breath, watching him leave with that same stupid grin on his face. I couldn’t help but smile despite myself. Oh, Loris. You’re a pain, but damn if you don’t make life a little less boring.

The next few days were a blur of indecision. I’d told myself I didn’t want to get dragged back into those circles, but there was something about the way Loris had looked at me -like this job actually mattered.

Sighing, I flipped through the thick book in front of me, its pages filled with confusing diagrams of Hextech mechanics. I'd borrowed it from an acquaintance at the Academy, and to my own surprise, I found myself actually interested. The interlocking designs and theories held a strange kind of poetry to them, even though they were light-years ahead of what I typically worked on.

A sharp knock at the door broke my focus. I blinked, looking out the window to see twilight creeping over the Undercity skyline. Time had slipped away again.

Stretching, I rose from my chair and headed for the door, half-expecting to find Loris there, grinning like he’d just won the lottery. My smile was already half-formed, ready for his usual theatrics - until I opened the door and froze.

Vi stood there.

Her wide eyes betrayed a flicker of the same awkwardness stirring in my chest. I instinctively stepped back, my gaze drifting, almost unwillingly, over her frame. The tight tank top she wore clung to her shoulders, making her tattoos stand out - bold, raw, and provocative.

I couldn’t help it. I smirked to myself. The tattoos suited her.

Snapping out of it, I forced my eyes back to her face and cleared my throat.

“Hey... uh, hey, Violet.”

A faint smile tugged at her scarred lips, just enough to show it wasn’t all a façade. “Hey. Long time, huh?” Her gaze swept over my workshop, lingering on the scattered tools, the unfinished projects. Something unreadable flickered across her face.

“Looks like you’ve done well for yourself,” she said, her voice almost too casual. “Nice life you’ve built while I’ve been clawing my way out of the gutter and—”

I groaned, cutting her off before she could spiral. “Are we doing this already? Come on, Violet.”

“Vi,” she corrected sharply, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

I watched her pace through the workshop, taking in the chaos like a curious predator, sizing up her surroundings. She stopped in front of the table, her eyes locking on the thick book I’d left open, and her brow arched. “So, Loris wasn’t exaggerating. You’re really into this stuff.”

Heat rushed to my face, and I darted forward, snapping the book shut with a little more force than necessary. “I have a job. That’s it. Helping you with the gauntlets. Nothing else.”

Her lips quirked into a sly grin. “Cute.”

She sauntered toward the small, battered sofa in the corner, flopping down like she owned the place. The old cushions creaked under her weight, and I winced, remembering I hadn’t cleaned in weeks. She looked around with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Loris wants me to join his little wrestling circus,” she said casually, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “You know, all that underground brawling crap.”

I blinked. That was unexpected. Vi wasn’t exactly known for chatting freely, especially not in a tone that wasn’t sharp or cutting.

I leaned against the nearby shelf, my fingers grazing the worn wood, and asked the question hanging in the air. “Aren’t you still with the Enforcers? Or are you over that?”

Her jaw tightened, and her gaze snapped to me like I’d hit a nerve. “I’m done with that,” she muttered, her voice low and bitter. “It was a mistake. But my gauntlets are still there, and I’m not exactly in a position to waltz back in and ask nicely - not after Caitlyn…” She trailed off, her words cutting off as the anger in her voice gave way to frustration. “Screw it.”

She clenched her fists, her shoulders hunched as though bracing against some invisible storm. I wanted to ask more, to pry deeper, but I wasn’t sure how much she’d let me in.

“I heard there was... a fight,” I said hesitantly, a weak smile tugging at my lips. “Loris does like to talk.”

Her eyes flickered with something bright—anger, maybe, or embarrassment—but she quickly sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose in frustration. “Of course.”

She sank further into the cushions like they were trying to swallow her whole, but her gaze locked onto mine, sharp and unwavering. “Cupcake kicked me out.”

I couldn’t help the snort that escaped. “Cupcake?” I repeated dryly. “Sounds about right. Caitlyn’s always been… intense. Obsessed with tracking down Jinx.”

At the mention of her sister, Vi’s expression darkened. She looked away, her jaw working silently as if grinding through the weight of old wounds. The sight tugged at something in me—something I didn’t want to acknowledge.

Would they ever mend that rift?

“She can do whatever the hell she wants. I don’t care,” Vi said, her voice cool but the words barely convincing. Her eyes flicked back to mine, and I almost laughed.

She was still a terrible liar.

"Doesn't matter," I said softly, steering the conversation away from dangerous waters. "What do you want, Vi? Thinking about joining Loris's little scheme?" I tilted my head, watching her closely. "It'd suit you."

A genuine smile tugged at her lips, a rare sight that caught me off guard. She rose from the couch, moving across the room with those confident strides of hers, stopping just in front of me. Her gaze dipped slightly, locking onto mine with an intensity that made my pulse quicken.

"Yeah?" she asked, her voice carrying a teasing edge. "You think it suits me?"

There was something different in her tone now - softer, more... searching. Her eyes flicked over my face, like she was trying to figure me out. For a moment, the years seemed to slip away, and I felt that familiar stir in my chest, the way my heart would thunder when she got too close.

I nodded, swallowing hard to clear the lump in my throat. "You haven't changed much. Still bold as ever. But that's just... who you are."

Her smile widened, warm and unguarded, before she leaned back slightly. "Ah," she murmured, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. "Will you help me win Loris's bets?"

I tilted my head, confused. "How exactly? With gauntlets? I’m pretty sure those aren’t allowed in the ring."

"No," she said, shaking her head, her gaze dropping to her arms. She extended them toward me, and I noticed the scars marking her skin - some faded, others fresh. Her voice softened. "I want you to support me. Make me look cool. Like a real freak. You know, just like before."

I blinked, unsure what she meant - until she added, "Remember when you used to smear mud in my hair? Or paint streaks across my face like I was a warrior heading into battle?"

Her words hit me like a lightning bolt, and I couldn’t stop the grin spreading across my face. She remembered. All those wild childhood moments we’d shared, the chaos we’d stirred—it wasn’t just me holding onto them.

I laughed. "You want me to smear dirt on your face again? Like war paint?"

But before I could keep teasing, she grabbed my hands, her grip firm but not rough. She leaned in, just a little, her voice low and steady. "I’ll let you work your magic," she said. "I’m done running. I need to face my problems head-on—and yeah, I want to look damn good doing it. Let them see me coming."

There was a fire in her eyes, a spark of excitement and determination I hadn’t seen in years. She wasn’t just asking for help; she was trusting me—putting herself in my hands. It was the kind of vulnerability I’d never expected from her.

We held each other’s gaze for a moment too long, the tension thick in the air. Then, without warning, I burst into laughter.

She blinked, caught off guard, and I had to wipe a tear from the corner of my eye. "Sorry," I gasped, still grinning. "I just... I can’t believe this. You’re still the same Vi I used to know, asking me to help you stir up trouble. It’s like no time has passed."

Her lips quirked into a smirk, but there was a softness behind it.

I took a deep breath, my grin settling into a crooked smile. "Fuck it. Okay. I’ll help you."

The corners of her mouth twitched, and for a moment, I thought I caught the faintest flicker of relief. Then she clapped a hand on my shoulder, the weight grounding and solid.

"You won’t regret this," she said, a dangerous glint returning to her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, turning back to my workstation. "Let’s just hope you don’t."

After my impulsive promise to Vi, my daily life spiraled into chaos. Mornings were swallowed up by the complexities of Hextech mechanics, my desk perpetually buried under blueprints and scattered parts. Afternoons were split between enduring Loris's exhausting lectures on wrestling tactics and managing Vi's never-ending list of demands.

The result? My actual work—the kind that kept the lights on—fell behind. Deadlines passed unnoticed, piling up like the junk in my workshop.

One sluggish afternoon, I was once again buried in the dense pages of a Hextech manual, my fingers idly tracing the frayed edge of a bandage wrapped around my hand. My eyelids drooped dangerously close to closing for good when the heavy thud of boots in the hallway snapped me out of my daze.

I blinked, rubbed my eyes, and swiveled around in my chair just in time to hear the door slam open with a resounding crash.

Framed in the doorway stood a tall, broad-shouldered figure. Recognition hit me instantly—him. A client whose order had been abandoned in the corner for weeks. His weapons, dismantled and forgotten, still coated in grime, sat there like silent reminders of my negligence.

His restless gaze swept over the room, landing on me. Something dark flickered in his eyes, and a filthy grin stretched across his face. With his arms crossed over his chest, he stood tall, radiating menace, like someone with too many muscles and too little patience.

"So this is where my little mouse has been hiding," he drawled, stepping forward with a smug grin.

Instinctively, my hand shot behind me, fingers wrapping around the nearest tool—a screwdriver. Slowly, I rose from my chair, muscles coiled, ready to react.

"Do you know what happens to people who don't finish their jobs on time?" His voice was low and menacing, each word weighted with a threat.

I furrowed my brow, my eyes flicking toward the door. Escape routes flashed through my mind: The door was too risky—he was blocking it. The window... well, the fall might break something, but at least it wouldn’t be my neck.

"Who sent you?" I asked, keeping my tone calm, even though my pulse was hammering in my throat. My gaze drifted to his belt, scanning for any sign of weapons, but I couldn’t spot anything obvious. "Your boss? I told him I'd need three to five weeks."

He clicked his tongue and took another step forward, the sound of his heavy boots pounding against the floor. His eyes roamed over my face, the leer on his lips making my skin crawl. "Last I checked, those three to five weeks ended two weeks ago."

Now he was looming over me, so close that I could smell the stench of alcohol on his breath. But even then, I couldn’t resist smirking.

"Were you too scared to come earlier?" I quipped, tilting my head. "Afraid Loris might be lurking nearby, ready to bash you in the face with a shield again?"

His grin faltered, replaced by a snarl. Without warning, he grabbed a wooden chair and hurled it across the room. It crashed against the wall, splintering on impact.

"Watch your mouth," he growled, veins bulging in his forehead. "Loris isn't here... which means you're alone." He leaned in closer, his breath hot and rancid against my face. "So why don’t you just apologize, hand over my weapons, and I’ll leave you to your little book?"

His voice dripped with mockery, and as he spoke, a spray of spit landed on my cheek.

I wiped it off, not flinching. My glare cut through him like a blade. "I don’t have your damn weapons," I spat back, my voice colder than I intended. "I need more time. Tell your boss to keep his crooked nose out of my business. A real craftsman doesn’t rush their work."

That was clearly the wrong answer.

With a guttural snarl, he grabbed the collar of my shirt, yanking me forward. My heart thundered, but I didn’t hesitate. Gripping the screwdriver, I swung it wide, burying it deep into his shoulder.

He staggered back with a roar, his eyes wide with shock as he stared at the blood dripping from the wound.

“You little rat,” he hissed, his voice thick with venom, teeth clenched. His hand trembled as he yanked the screwdriver from his flesh, blood spilling onto the floor in dark, angry splotches.

“I’m going to wring your neck,” he muttered, the words a low, dangerous growl. He took another step forward, movements deliberate and ominous.

I sighed, the weight of the situation settling on me. My muscles tensed, ready to bolt for the window.

His eyes flicked to where I was staring—toward the window—and I saw the recognition flash in them. With a swift, practiced motion, he darted to the side, blocking my escape and trapping me.

“Give me three days,” I said, my voice tight and steady despite the adrenaline rushing through me. “I’ll finish your weapons, and then Loris can deliver them to your embarrassing little freak of a boss. I’ve got my own shit to deal with—someone like you should know that.” My fingers brushed the edge of the table, searching desperately for something—anything—to defend myself with.

The man sneered, his lips curling in disdain. “Do you really think I’ll give you more time after you just stabbed me with a rusty screwdriver? Pathetic little mouse. You could’ve had so much more.”

He stepped forward again, but just as he was about to close the distance, a sharp “HEY!” rang out from the doorway, cutting through the tension like a knife.

My head snapped toward the sound, barely registering Vi standing in the frame, her body wrapped in fresh bandages from training. Her eyes locked onto mine, and with a small, subtle nod, I knew she was ready.

I closed my eyes, bracing myself, and in that instant, I bolted.

But just as I moved, the bastard yanked hard on my hair. A sharp gasp tore from my throat.

“Ah, shit!” I groaned, pain shooting through me. From the corner of my eye, I saw the sick satisfaction on his face as he yanked again.

“That’s why mice don’t belong in a fight,” he growled, his grip tightening like a vice. “Hair’s just another weapon for us.”

Tears stung my eyes from the pain, and for a split second, I considered cutting my hair off - anything to escape his grip. But there was no time.

He was so fixated on manhandling me that he didn’t notice Vi move. She lunged forward and slammed her fist into his jaw with enough force to echo through the room. He staggered back with a howl, and his grip on my hair loosened just enough for me to break free.

I crashed against the table, wheezing, scrambling upright. My heart thundered in my chest as I frantically scanned the mess for a weapon—something better than a screwdriver. But everything nearby was either too fragile or, worse, valuable. My gaze landed on the Hextech book. No way. I wasn’t sacrificing that—not unless I wanted Viktor to actually murder me.

Vi was already spinning for another strike when she glanced at me. “Time to run—”

But she didn’t finish.

The man’s arm shot out, catching her by the throat and lifting her clean off the floor. His grip was brutal. I heard the air hitch in her lungs.

“Another mouse in the workshop,” he sneered. “Should I call pest control afterward?”

Vi clawed at his arm, her face reddening, boots kicking uselessly in the air. Panic surged in my veins. I didn’t think. I just grabbed a jagged piece of the broken chair and hurled myself at him, swinging.

The wood slammed into his ribs. He grunted in pain, stumbling just enough for Vi to twist free and drop to the ground with a thud. She didn’t hesitate—her boot connected with his gut before he could fully recover. Then she snatched the same piece of wood from my hands and hit him again. He landed a punch in return, splitting her lip, but she didn’t even flinch. Blood ran down her chin as she hit him once more, wild and relentless.

He raised his thick arms to block the blows and spun sideways with surprising speed. “ENOUGH!” he roared, voice shaking the walls.

I stood frozen, chest heaving, hands trembling. Vi’s eyes were locked on him like a wild animal cornered. She was breathing hard, blood smeared across her face, her fists still clenched tight.

“This is ridiculous,” he spat, finally turning to me. “Do your damn job. Next time I find you alone here, you’ll wish I only pulled your hair.”

He pressed a hand to the bleeding wound in his shoulder—the one I’d given him. He stalked past us, boots thudding like gunshots, each step leaving a smear of blood in his wake.

Vi shifted, ready to go after him.

“No,” I said, stepping in. I caught her wrists before she could move. “Don’t.”

She didn’t resist, but her body vibrated with fury. Her nose was bleeding again, and her split lip looked worse now, swelling fast. Seeing her like this made my stomach twist. She’d fought for me. She’d taken the hits, risked herself—for me.

And all I could do was hold her wrists and wish I’d been strong enough to stop it before it started.

I gently took her face in my hands, forcing her to look at me. For a moment, the chaos faded—the broken furniture, the blood, even the sting in my scalp. None of it mattered. It was just us.

My chest ached with gratitude, fierce and overwhelming. I swallowed hard.

“Vi,” I whispered, barely able to get the words out. “Thank you.”

She was still glaring after the man as he disappeared down the hall, fury lingering in the tight line of her jaw. But then she took a slow breath and turned her gaze to me. Her eyes softened, catching the light, and for just a second, it felt like the rest of the world had been put on mute.

She raised a hand to my cheek and winced. “He hit you, didn’t he? Your face is—”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “You took the real hits.”

I couldn’t stop staring at her. The blood streaking down her skin, the way it mingled with grime and sweat—it should’ve looked wrong. But somehow, it didn’t. It looked like her. Raw, real. Alive.

Vi pulled her hand away and wiped the blood from her nose with a groan. “That bastard got me good,” she muttered with a lopsided grin. “Gotta hand it to the giant.”

The bandages on her arms were loose and soaked, clinging to her skin like wet paper. She flexed her fingers, then frowned. “Who was that, anyway? I swear I’ve seen him before.”

“Buck,” I said, slowly rising from the floor. My scalp throbbed where he’d yanked my hair, but I tried to ignore it. “He’s part of one of the Chem Barons’ crews, I think. Doesn’t matter. I need to finish his weapons—fast—before he brings company next time.”

My eyes drifted to the shattered chair. A sigh slipped out before I could catch it. Everything was wrecked, and I was exhausted. Why did my life always fall apart the moment Vi walked into it?

I pushed the thought away. Now wasn’t the time.

Vi watched me closely, reading more than I was saying. She sank onto the couch—the one she’d half-claimed already—and rubbed at her sore jaw.

“I didn’t think you hung out with gangsters,” she said, quieter now. “Thought your work was safer than this.”

“It’s not about who I hang out with,” I muttered. “It’s about who I can’t afford to say no to.”

She didn’t answer, but the concern in her eyes said enough. Then, under her breath, she added, “Good thing I came by when I did... that bastard.”

She wiped the blood from her lip, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

Without a word, I stood and grabbed clean bandages and a damp cloth. Watching her bleed—it made something in my chest twist too tightly. I needed to do something.

With a soft thud, I sat beside her on the worn couch, the cushions sagging under our combined weight. Gently, I took her hand and placed it in her lap.

“Stop touching your wounds,” I said quietly. “Not with your sweaty fingers.”

She raised a brow, her smirk returning despite everything. “Oh, but yours are better?”

“Marginally,” I muttered.

She didn’t protest as I began to unwind the ragged bandages around her arms. Her skin was marred by scrapes and bruises, older scars peeking through. I worked carefully, wiping away the grime from her palms, her wrists, up toward her biceps.

“Thank you...” she murmured, the word almost lost in the quiet between us.

The air felt heavier now—thick with something unspoken. My heart thudded faster in my chest. I hadn’t seen her in years, but here she was again. And somehow, despite the bruises and blood, I felt... safe.

Like I was thirteen again and thought she could take on the world.

I bit my lip, trying not to say anything stupid as I wiped the dirt from her skin. Her arms were stronger than I remembered—solid, well-trained muscle beneath the surface.

“When did you build up so much muscle?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment.

Vi chuckled, her eyes tracking my every motion. “After Cupca—uh, Caitlyn—kicked me out. Turns out playing cop wasn’t as fun as it looked. Loris took me in. Taught me how to fight properly. Without the Gauntlets, even.”

She said it lightly, but I caught the shadow in her voice. Still, I didn’t press. I just listened, letting the quiet between us feel comfortable for once.

She rarely let her guard down. But now, with me gently cleaning her wounds, she seemed... softer. Like the girl I used to know was peeking through the bruised surface.

Our past had been wild and reckless. This moment—still, careful, almost reverent—felt like some fragile gift.

“I don’t know anyone as brave as you,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “Thanks again.”

Vi glanced over at me. A faint blush rose to her cheeks, and then—unexpectedly—she smiled. Small. Honest.

If I ignored the blood on her face, this could almost be romantic.

“And I don’t know anyone who takes care of others like you do.” She hesitated, the corners of her mouth twitching. “You’re... yeah. Never mind.”

“Here,” I said quickly, before she could deflect further. I turned the cloth to a clean corner and lifted it to her face.

She froze, but didn’t pull away.

Gently, I dabbed at her chin, wiping the blood from her split lip. Her blue eyes met mine—steady, unreadable—and held there as if she were trying to memorize the look on my face.

Her shoulders finally relaxed.

And then she let me do it.

It was awkward between us—like walking a tightrope with no net below.
I felt my shoulders go rigid beside her, unsure of what to do with my hands, with my breath, with myself.
I felt like a teenager again, stuck in the same room as their crush, hyper-aware of every heartbeat, every glance, every chance to look like a fool.

My thoughts scattered, spinning too fast to catch. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from staring at her too obviously.

“Loris is going to be mad at us,” Vi said suddenly, voice low—quiet, but heavy in a way I couldn’t place. “The last time I had to be this careful about what I did... Vander was still alive.”

The name hit me like a punch to the ribs.

My hands froze where they were, still cupping her face. The cloth hung limply between my fingers.

Vander.

That name cracked something open. All the things I’d been keeping buried—regret, guilt, the gnawing hole he left behind—rushed up so fast it made my vision blur.

The air between us felt thick, suffocating. I wanted to speak, to say something, but the words didn’t feel like mine anymore.

I nodded stiffly, swallowing around the dry knot in my throat. “Loris... he cares about me. Like a father.”

I tried to sound casual. It didn’t come out that way.

Because it wasn’t just a father’s care I got from Loris—it was something heavier. The kind that made me want to crawl out of my skin, to hide from what I hadn’t done, who I hadn’t been.

“The way he talks to you,” I added, “it makes you feel like you’re five years old again.”

Vi didn’t answer right away.

Her eyes shifted, something soft flickering in them. Something I couldn’t name.

There was sadness there—not loud, but deep and quiet, like the slow ache of an old bruise.

And I couldn’t look away from her. Not now. Not with that expression on her face.

She was so beautiful. It hurt to see her like this. And the worst part? Some twisted, selfish part of me was glad she was here. With me.

“When Loris said he knew someone who could help, I didn’t expect you,” she whispered. “He told me you knew me. I thought maybe... you were someone from when I was a kid. And I guess I was right.”

A dry, empty laugh slipped out of me. “I almost turned it down.”

Her eyes widened a fraction. Confused. Or maybe hurt. It was gone before I could tell.

“I was scared,” I said, staring at the floor like it held all the answers. “Scared to get involved. Scared it’d be you. After everything... after I left.”

The words tasted like ash. But they needed to be said.

“I left you when you needed me most,” I murmured. “My parents dragged me away, and I let it happen. I told myself I could forget. Start over. But I never did.”

I looked at her then—really looked.

“And Vander... he’d be proud of you. I mean it. Standing here now. Bloody, furious, and still standing.”

Her gaze didn’t falter.

She just stared, eyes unreadable, and I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Couldn’t stand not knowing. The silence between us stretched until it felt like it might break me in half.

I was drowning in it—in her eyes, in everything I should’ve said years ago. And somehow, it still wasn’t enough.

She shook her head slowly, her lips parting just enough to speak. Her voice came soft, distant.
"You probably don't know this, but the hope of seeing my old friends again—of seeing you—it kept me going. Everyone in my life disappears eventually. Vander, Powd—Jinx, Caitlyn… you."

My chest tightened, a deep, hollow ache settling in my ribs. I fought to keep my voice from shaking.
"It shouldn't be like that."

Vi gave a casual shrug, but it was too casual. A performance. I could see the truth in her eyes—how tired they looked, how much weight they carried. She leaned back into the sofa, her gaze drifting to the fresh bandages on her arms. Not really looking at them. Just... staring. Like she’d already accepted this pain as routine.

"It’s fine," she muttered, barely above a whisper. "Now you’re here again. I’ll enjoy it while it lasts."

The words shattered something in me. The way she said it—like she didn’t expect anything good to stay. Like she’d already given up. I wanted to scream. To tell her she deserved more than this. That she didn’t have to carry it all alone anymore. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.

I stood up abruptly, hands clenched at my sides. The frustration rising in my chest felt like a wave I couldn’t hold back.
"When’s your next match?" I asked, voice flat and hollow as I turned to stare at the mess in the workshop. It was just something to look at. Something that wasn’t her.

I heard her get up. Then, her hand was on my shoulder—warm, grounding. My breath hitched. Confusion mixed with the frustration twisting inside me. Why did she make my heart race like this? Why did it feel like I was teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t name?

"Tomorrow," she said. Her voice was quiet but steady. "But I’ll help with the workshop first."

I shook my head before I even realized it. The words came too fast.
"No," I snapped. It came out sharper than I meant. "Loris can fix the door. I’ll clean the rest tonight. Just… tell me when you want me to redo your bandages and—"

"Stop," she cut in. Her tone was soft but held that unmistakable edge—calm, warning. "Stop treating me with kid gloves. I can handle myself. And accusing me of not caring doesn’t help anything. You’re here. Right now. That’s what matters."

It hit me like a slap. I froze.

There was nothing left to say. Just silence. And the ache pressing hard against my ribs.

So I let it go.

I sighed, the sound heavy. "Fine," I murmured, surrendering, though it didn’t feel like defeat. "But tomorrow, I’m still doing your makeup. And your hair."

A familiar smirk spread across her face—the one that always made everything feel just a little easier, a little less unbearable. She stepped in close, cupping my cheeks with both hands, the pressure just enough to surprise me. I blinked.

"Thanks," she said, her voice gentler than I expected.

Her fingers brushed my skin, and my heart skipped. For a second, the world felt still.

It was always the little things with her. The way she could drive me out of my mind and then melt me with a look, a touch. She had that effect—chaotic, infuriating, and impossible not to love.

She turned and began cleaning up, moving through the workshop like it was just another day. Like the broken chair and bloodied bandages didn’t matter.

And maybe they didn’t.

Because as I watched her—messy hair, busted lip, moving with all the grace of someone who never asked for permission—I realized something:

She was absolutely going to cost me my nerves.

But for some reason, I didn’t mind that at all.

One morning, I rushed through the hallways of my building, clutching a book to my chest, only to come to a jarring stop—I had completely forgotten what day it was.

The meeting.

With Viktor.

One of Piltover Academy’s brightest minds—and, as luck would have it, someone I really couldn’t afford to disappoint. Especially not now. Not after the whirlwind of the last few days. Not with the tension still lingering like smoke between me and Vi, and not with everything else quietly unraveling around me.

This meeting was supposed to be a lifeline. A chance to prove I could still hold things together. But of course, here I was: late, disheveled, and barely holding on.

My legs didn’t seem to want to cooperate, dragging under me like weights as I moved. By the time I reached the square, my lungs were burning, and I could already see him—Viktor—seated by the fountain in the courtyard.

He looked up as I approached. His tired eyes met mine. There was a faint smile on his lips, but it never quite touched the rest of his face. He looked… worn down. Like someone who hadn’t slept in days.

He began to rise, leaning on his walking stick with deliberate slowness, but I quickly shook my head and motioned for him to stay seated.

“No, please—don’t get up,” I said between breaths, waving him off with a sheepish smile.

I practically collapsed onto the bench beside him, my pulse thudding in my ears, my thoughts a whirlwind of nerves and exhaustion.

"Hey, sorry," I said weakly, trying to offer an apologetic smile. "Got lost in my book this morning."

The excuse felt flimsy even as I said it, but Viktor didn't call me out. Instead, he chuckled softly—though there was something heavier behind it.

"You don't need to lie to me," he murmured, his voice gentle, but the weight of his words landed with precision. "We all heard about your workshop. Don't blame yourself."

I blinked, caught off guard. My fingers loosened around the book as I set it aside.
"It happens..." I mumbled, feeling foolish even as I said it. "Right now, I don’t even know what to do with myself. But I read your notes... they’re clear. And somehow still completely confusing."

We'd spent a few late evenings like this before—me, listening while he explained Hextech like it was poetry. He made the impossible sound doable. Coming from the Undercity, like me, there was something familiar about the way he moved through the world, even if his mind was galaxies away. Still, his quiet steadiness sometimes made me wonder how someone like Jayce managed to stand it. They were total opposites.

Viktor gave a tired smile, brushing a hand across his face like he'd been up all night again—he probably had.

"Sometimes," he said, with a light, honest tone, "I don’t even understand my own sketches. How you managed to make sense of them is beyond me."

That was such a Viktor thing to say—humble in a way that made you feel competent just for showing up. I grinned despite myself.

"I’ve had so much coffee, I’m not sure I even remember what I actually read and what I hallucinated," I joked, shaking my head. Then, softer, the words slipped out before I could stop them:
"But I can’t stop. It’s like there’s this fire inside me... this need to see it through. To make it real."

My voice faded as my gaze drifted past him—toward the horizon, where the bridge once symbolized a connection between Piltover and Zaun. Now, it just felt like a scar.

The weight of that silence stretched between us.

When I looked back, Viktor was watching me. His expression unreadable. For a moment, his eyes seemed colder than usual—just a flicker. Like something sharp hidden beneath the surface.

A warning? Maybe. Or maybe just a glimpse of how much he was keeping to himself.

Then, Viktor let out a long, quiet sigh and turned his attention back to the book, flipping through its pages slowly, deliberately.

"Hey," he said at last—his voice no longer soft, but measured, almost brittle. "Promise me you won't make the same mistakes as Jayce. Don't create something that can become a weapon. I know you're helping Vi with the Gauntlets, but I'm not sure that's wise."

His words hit harder than I expected. There was something in his tone—tension, maybe fear—that I wasn’t used to hearing from him. Viktor wasn’t prone to exaggeration. Which made it worse.

I furrowed my brow, trying to steady the growing knot in my stomach. "I'm not building Hextech 2.0, if that's what you're worried about," I replied, trying to keep my voice firm. "I don’t have the skill for that. Or the ego. That’s your and Jayce’s territory, not mine."

I paused, heart pounding. "I just… I want to prove I won’t disappear again." My voice cracked at the edges. I hated how fragile it sounded. "Vi needs me."

Viktor didn’t respond at first. His expression didn’t soften, but something flickered in his eyes—regret, maybe, or sorrow. He reached for a second book and thumbed through the pages, faster now, like he was running from something.

"You’ve always been a great help to me," he said, quieter. "Thanks to you, I got the parts I needed. That’s why I trust you."

I couldn’t meet his eyes. His trust felt like a weight I didn’t know how to carry.

"But nothing has the same power as Jayce’s Gauntlets," Viktor continued, his voice hardening. "Does she understand that? The girl you're helping—does Vi know what she’s really asking you to build?"

It wasn’t new information. But coming from Viktor, wrapped in his quiet urgency, it felt different. He wasn’t just warning me—he was afraid.

"I hope so," I said, barely above a whisper.

Viktor stood, leaning heavily on his walking stick. When he looked down at me, his gaze was sharp—like he was seeing something I couldn't.

"Make sure you're not being used." he said. "Make sure she's not using you to take another shot at Jinx."

The words landed like a blow. His face—usually so composed—was a mix of weariness and something darker. Desperation, maybe. Or grief.

He turned to leave, but hesitated. His voice, when it came again, was lower—gentler.

"Take care of yourself. My health... it’s failing. But watching someone like you get lost in Hextech—it’s almost magical. Almost healing."

Then he walked away, his footsteps quiet but certain.

I sat there, heart pounding, watching him disappear down the corridor.

I couldn’t shake his words. Couldn’t shake the tremble in his voice, or the way he said Vi—like she was something to fear. Like she might already be lost.

She wouldn’t.
She wouldn’t do that to me...

Would she?

I stood up abruptly, the air too still, my thoughts too loud. I had to get home. I had to clear my head.

I wouldn’t have been so stressed if today wasn’t also Vi’s next fight. I’d promised to help her—and I always kept my promises. But for some reason, the thought of seeing her again made my stomach twist into tight, painful knots.

My feelings for her had always been hard to suppress. At first, I told myself it was just a sense of duty—that helping her was the right thing to do. Nothing more. But now, every time I thought about her, my heart skipped. I’d catch myself smiling without meaning to, without even realizing it.

It was driving me insane.

As usual, I sat in my workshop while Loris worked on the door she’d kicked in. His humming filled the room like static, light and forgettable, but I could tell his attention kept drifting. He wasn’t subtle—never had been. And he was far too sharp not to notice when something was off.

Sure enough, he let out a dramatic sigh and tossed his hammer onto a nearby chair with a loud clang. He wobbled over to me, wearing that crooked grin I’d come to recognize as both charming and dangerous. Without a word, he placed one broad hand on top of my head.

I looked up at him, confused. “What’s this?”

He grinned wider, holding his hand there for a second longer before pulling it away. “Trying to suck the worries right out of your brain,” he said, chuckling. “What’s going on, Pumpkin? Did you have another run-in with those street thugs, or is this something worse?”

I hesitated. I knew it was pointless to hide anything from him. Still, I tried.

“You’ll just gossip about it if I tell you,” I muttered. “You’re worse than the aunts at the coffee shop. Has anyone ever told you that?”

Loris leaned against my desk, the wood groaning slightly under his weight as he pushed it closer to the wall. He didn’t seem to notice—or care. His eyes never left mine.

“Sometimes I keep secrets,” he said, quieter now. “But only for people I care about.” He crossed his arms, settling into a familiar stance. “So... spill it.”

I leaned back in my chair with a groan, throwing my head back to stare at the ceiling, hoping it might help me sort through the chaos in my brain. “Why did you have to bring Vi here?” I muttered, exhaling slowly. “My head’s all over the place. I’m worried she’s just using me. That she’s using you. And I know, I know it’s stupid—”

“Yeah, it’s stupid,” Loris cut in, laughing softly. I snapped my head forward to glare at him, but he didn’t flinch. “Who planted that idea in your head? You’ve still gotta get used to her, sure—but she’s loyal.”

Loyal.

The word hit something raw in me. I hated it. Not because it wasn’t true—but because it meant more than I wanted it to. It was the kind of word people used like a shield, something simple to cling to when things weren’t. Still, deep down, I couldn’t ignore how much it mattered.

I bit my lip and turned away. “Forget I said anything... it’s just—there’s too much going on. Everyone’s expecting me to make these new Gauntlets, and I can barely hold my thoughts together. It’s... a lot.”

The words spilled out faster than I expected, like I couldn’t stop them now that they’d started. But with Loris, that felt okay. I knew I was safe to fall apart a little around him. He didn’t say anything right away, just let the silence stretch, warm and patient, until I finally looked up again.

“If you’ve got doubts,” he said at last, “then talk to her about them. She’s not gonna bite your head off... ninety percent of the time.”

I smirked despite myself. It wasn’t a real smile, not yet—but it was close. “Yeah... you’re right.” I rubbed my face with both hands, the exhaustion of too many sleepless nights catching up with me. “Thanks... for fixing the door. And for being here. I mean... you know.”

My voice trailed off, embarrassed, but Loris just chuckled and reached out to ruffle my hair like always. Then he grabbed his headband from the pile of scraps beside me, snapping it into place with theatrical flair.

“We’ll talk later, kid,” he said, already halfway out the door. Then, with a raised fist and a grin that could punch a hole through gloom, he declared, “But today... we win!”

I rolled my eyes, but the corners of my mouth tugged upward despite everything. As he disappeared through the newly repaired doorway, the workshop felt just a little lighter—his energy leaving behind something warm and reassuring, even if the weight in my chest hadn’t lifted entirely.

But as soon as he was gone, the second the door clicked shut behind him, I slammed my head down against the desk with a muttered curse, the weight of my scattered thoughts pressing down harder than ever. I felt like I was barely holding myself together—teetering on the edge of something I wasn’t sure I was ready for.

"Damn it," I groaned, my hands gripping the edges of the desk as if I could hold on to something solid in the chaos of my mind. Loris was right, and I hated that. He always was. I couldn’t keep running away from what was happening, from the truth of what I was feeling. I had to face it. I had to face her.

But the thought of it—the weight of it—made my heart race in a way I wasn’t quite ready for.

Slowly, I was getting used to the door being flung open without warning, as if the concept of knocking had completely escaped this place. Loris or Vi—neither of them seemed to grasp the idea of personal space.

Vi stumbled in, wrapped in bandages that clung to her like armor, the familiar reckless grin on her face lighting up the room. I couldn't help but smile back at her. "What’s got you in such a good mood today?" I asked, trying to keep my tone casual.

She threw a few quick jabs into the air, her stance sharp and confident as though she were already in the ring, sizing up her opponent. "Today's gonna be fun. There’s a guy out there who used to work with Silco. I’m gonna beat the info right out of him."

Just hearing Silco’s name made my stomach twist, but I swallowed the unease. "I can almost feel the tension rolling off you. Need anything? New bandages?" The words slipped out more out of habit than any real necessity.

Vi shook her head, stepping closer. There was something in her eyes, something mischievous that made my heart skip. "Can you paint my face again? I like the black stuff. It feels... right." She paused for a beat, as though weighing her next words. "I’ve even been thinking about dyeing my hair. But I’m not sure."

The sudden mention of her hair threw me off guard. "I like your pink hair," I said without thinking, then immediately realized how it sounded. I rushed to cover up, my words stumbling over each other. "I mean... it suits you. You shouldn’t change it."

My face burned with embarrassment as she took a step closer, her gaze locking onto mine, like a weight I couldn’t quite escape. She reached out, grabbing a strand of my hair and gently tugging it between her fingers. "Your hair..." she trailed off, the words taking on a deeper, almost dangerous edge. "The color makes you look like you could kick someone's ass without even trying." She paused, a smirk tugging at her lips. "You’ve always been pretty, but that hairstyle really suits you. Though, I guess it’s not the most practical when you’ve got angry customers to deal with."

Heat rushed to my chest, my face burning even more under her gaze. Her words, half compliment and half tease, left me unsure of what I was feeling. Was she challenging me? Or was it something else? The way she spoke, her eyes never leaving mine, made the air between us feel thick, charged with something unspoken.

I cleared my throat, scrambling for control. "Sit down. I’ll do your makeup," I said quickly, my voice a little too rushed. I was trying to focus on anything but the way she was standing so close to me. "Then you’ll probably have to rush off, right?"

Vi nodded, her movements effortless as she dropped into the chair. But, of course, I couldn’t stop my eyes from wandering. The way the bandages clung to her body, so perfectly in place, made something twist uneasily in my stomach. She radiated strength—no, power—but beneath it all, there was something so... fragile. So human.

Then, as though she could feel the weight of my gaze, she shot me a smirk. "I like to stare too, but my face is up here."

I snapped out of my daze with a nervous laugh, cursing myself. "Ugh, Vi. Come on... I was just looking at your bandages." My words came out weak, and I quickly reached for her chin, my hands betraying me with a slight shake. The brush dipped into the black paint, and I began to carefully apply it under her eye. Her skin felt cool against the bristles, and her eyes—her sharp, watchful eyes—followed every stroke like she was studying me, dissecting my every move.

I wanted to say something—anything—about how she made my heart race, how every time she looked at me, it felt like my insides were doing flips. But the words stuck, lodged somewhere between my brain and my mouth. Too cheesy. Too much. So, I kept my mouth shut and focused on the brush in my hand, silently cursing the fact that being this close to her made me forget how to speak.

Vi was the first to break the silence. "You know," she said, her voice teasing but with an edge that hinted at something more, "you should close down the workshop once you're done with the Gauntlets... and run off with me. You make me look intimidating, and I’ll take care of all the enemies." The words were a joke, but I could see it in her eyes—the flicker of something real beneath the sarcasm.

I pulled the brush away, still staring down at her. "You’ve got the weirdest ideas... at the worst possible times," I muttered, my heart picking up pace again. I tried to focus, but it was hard with her looking at me like that. The air between us was thick with unspoken things. I paused, thinking about her suggestion for a moment, then shook my head with a half-smile. "I still have too much to do here before I can leave Piltover." The idea had crossed my mind—too briefly, and I dismissed it just as quickly. "Besides, you still have all that family drama to sort out. You just want to run from it?"

Vi’s eyes brightened, her smile widening. She leaned in a little closer, her voice softening, but there was something in her tone—something dangerous, laced with hope. “As long as you're with me,” she said, her body language shifting, closing the distance between us, “I can handle anything.”

Before I could respond, she stood up with a confidence that made my chest tighten. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, and my breath caught in my throat. My heart was pounding—too fast, too loud, almost painful. The room felt too small, too warm, as if the world had suddenly slowed down.

“You have no idea how much all of this means to me, do you?” Her voice was quieter now, softer, her smile gentler than usual. She reached up, placing her hand on my cheek, and I froze, unsure of what to do with myself. “You always listen to me… and without you, I wouldn’t even have time to come up with such silly ideas.”

I couldn’t find my voice. The lump in my throat was too thick, and I couldn’t even figure out what to do with my hands. I was trapped, lost in the warmth of her gaze, her proximity making everything inside me tighten, unsure whether to pull away or lean in.

Trying to deflect the heaviness of the moment, I laughed nervously. “Don’t smile too much, or your scar might split open again.” My attempt at humor felt weak, but she punched me lightly on the shoulder, her eyes gleaming with affection.

I looked up at her, and for a brief moment, I saw it—the faint blush on her cheeks. It caught me off guard. A side of Vi I didn’t often see—the vulnerable, almost shy part of her. It was... intoxicating.

“I’m serious, you idiot,” she laughed, but this time, there was no playful edge. Her voice held something deeper, something more raw. “Thank you.”

I laughed, a little too nervously, trying to brush it off. “You act like I cured you of some incurable disease. It’s just makeup and a little tinkering with your gauntlets. Nothing more…” My voice trailed off, but her gaze remained locked on mine—intense, unwavering.

For a moment, I thought she might say something more, but instead, she shrugged, her voice softer than usual, yet carrying an undertone I couldn’t quite place. “It’s not just about what you do… It’s that you do it for me. Thank you.”

I froze. I didn’t know how to respond. My chest tightened, a wave of heat washing over me. The air felt thick, like I couldn’t catch my breath, and the world seemed to narrow until there was only her, that gaze pulling me in, making everything feel impossibly close.

And then, without warning, her lips brushed mine—soft, almost tentative. For a second, I thought I might be imagining it, my heart skipping a beat. But as soon as I realized it wasn’t a dream, my heart kicked into overdrive. Her hand slid around my neck, pulling me closer, and the kiss deepened, her other hand pressing against my waist as if anchoring me to the moment.

In that instant, everything outside of that kiss ceased to exist. The workshop faded away, the tension, the doubts, everything else vanished. There was only her—just her, here with me—and for a heartbeat, everything felt right. Everything felt dangerously perfect.

When her lips finally left mine, the warmth she’d given me seemed to evaporate, leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. My heart pounded in my chest, as if it were trying to break free, each beat louder, faster, more erratic than the last.

Vi pulled back, grinning as she breathed in deeply, as though she hadn’t just set my entire body on fire. “That was for good luck,” she murmured, her hand slipping away from me as she took a step back. “Even though I probably won’t need it.”

Her voice was casual, carefree, and it felt like a punch to my gut. Like it hadn’t meant anything to her. Like I hadn’t meant anything to her. My breath caught, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

I cleared my throat, forcing myself to steady the tremor in my hands. “You’re full of surprises,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper, the nervous laugh that followed feeling foreign. I wasn’t going to keep going, not going to say what had been eating at me for days, what I had buried deep down. But then I remembered Loris' words. The ones that had pushed me to be honest, to trust her.

"Earlier, I had doubts..." I muttered, looking down at my hands, too aware of how they trembled.

Vi’s expression shifted, her eyes narrowing with curiosity as she took a step closer, her posture becoming more open. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft yet probing, as if she was willing to give me space to unravel the mess in my mind.

I swallowed hard, my throat dry, every word feeling like it weighed a ton. “I was told to think about all of this. About the Gauntlets… about you… and about me. The possibility that you might leave me again, or that you would want to. I wasn’t sure, because this all feels so… strange, and I’m confused. I don’t know where to place myself,” I admitted, my gaze dropping to the floor. I half-expected her to pull away, to step back in disbelief, like she had done before. The thought of losing her again was almost too much to bear, but I had to speak it aloud.

Instead, Vi stepped closer, her fingers gently wrapping around mine with a warmth and strength that grounded me in the moment. "I know you blame yourself for leaving me back then," she murmured, her voice soft, but there was a strength in it that made my heart ache in the best way. Her touch, the warmth of it, felt like a tether, pulling me out of the storm of my own doubts. "But I told you before, all I care about is if you’re here for me now. The past is the past."

Her words were meant to soothe, but they only stirred the fire of uncertainty inside me. I wanted to believe her, wanted to trust that what we had now was real. But the weight of my own fears wasn’t so easily silenced. "In hindsight, it was dumb to think that you would use me to get revenge on Jinx," I mumbled, trying to brush it off with a weak attempt at humor, but the words fell flat.

Then, I saw it—the sudden, sharp flash of something I hadn’t expected. Vi’s face hardened in a way that made my breath catch. Her smile vanished, and her eyes widened with disbelief before narrowing into a look of quiet fury. “I’m the last person who would use anyone,” she snapped, her voice low and intense. “What Caitlyn did to me… I would never stoop to that level.”

My heart skipped a beat, and I cursed myself. "Y-yeah, I know..." I stammered, wanting to take the words back, wanting to tell her how foolish I was for ever thinking that way. I needed to apologize, to make her understand that it wasn’t her, it was me—my own insecurities that were dragging me down. But she wouldn’t let me.

“Do I really give you the impression that I’m betraying you?” Her voice was tight now, the words coming out with raw emotion that hit me like a punch. “That I’m betraying Loris? Do I seem that way to you?”

My chest tightened, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. Her gaze was so intense, so raw, and I realized just how badly I’d hurt her. How badly I’d hurt us. “I didn’t accuse you of anything,” I tried to explain, my voice barely above a whisper. "I was just about to say that my doubts were wrong. I thought they were… justified, and—"

She interrupted me, shaking her head slowly, her eyes glistening with something I couldn’t quite place. "The fact that you even had doubts is so strange," she said, her voice breaking just slightly, and it was like a dagger to my chest. “I don’t understand why you’d think that. I thought we were... better than that.”

Her words struck deep, cutting into me like shards of glass. "Strange? I talked to Loris about it. He said it was silly, but I can’t help my worries. Just like you have your doubts, I have mine," I muttered, my voice defensive, my chest tightening with frustration. Her eyes—those piercing, unyielding eyes—never wavered. She wasn’t buying it. And I couldn’t blame her.

Vi slammed her fist on the table, the noise reverberating through the room like an explosion, and in that moment, I saw her. I saw the cracks in her tough exterior, the vulnerability beneath the bravado. It was like the walls she had carefully constructed around herself were crumbling. All of this was eating away at her too, even if she tried so hard to mask it.

"I'm loyal," she bit out, her voice sharp, desperate. "I’ve always been loyal, and—"

I couldn’t hold it back anymore. The frustration, the rage, the helplessness—it all poured out like a dam breaking. "Please stop using that word," I said, my voice rough, the anger evident in every syllable. "You don’t even know what it really means." My heart was racing now, but it wasn’t out of fear—it was out of anger. Raw, bitter anger.

Her eyes locked onto mine, unwavering, but I saw it—the hurt flickering behind them. "What does that mean?" she asked quietly, her voice barely a whisper, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I took a step forward, my fists clenching as the words spilled out, bitter and sharp, like they had been waiting to escape for so long. "Where... where was your fucking loyalty when you decided to betray Zaun and become an Enforcer?" The words hit like a punch. "Have you ever thought that people in the Undercity will see you as one of them? Someone who turned her back on us?"

Her face paled, and I could see the shock and pain hit her all at once. She took a step back, her eyes wide with disbelief. "No... I didn’t do it because I wanted to," she said, her voice trembling with the weight of the confession. "I had no choice. Caitlyn promised me that this was the way to get Powder back and—"

"Caitlyn promised you a lot of things," I cut in, my voice rising, shaking with fury. "Just like you were about to make me empty promises? I’m supposed to close the workshop and run off with you? Did Caitlyn say that to you too? ‘Clear this crazy Jinx case and then run off’?" My heart pounded, and the words came faster than I could control. It felt like I was drowning in them—swallowed whole by the truths I couldn’t keep buried any longer.

She staggered back, her face drained of color, her eyes wide with shock. I didn’t know why those words had come out, why I let them slip. But there they were, hanging in the air between us, a terrible clarity I couldn’t take back.

"I... I’m not like Caitlyn," she whispered, her voice softer now, fragile, as though she were trying to convince herself as much as me. "I don’t want to be like her. I never wanted this to happen. But I don’t know how to fix it either."

I widened my eyes, the words catching in my throat, a strange mix of confusion and disbelief swirling inside me. "Never wanted what to happen?" I asked, my voice trembling now, edged with uncertainty. "So, you had ulterior motives with our... deal?"

The weight of her gaze pressed into me, her silence stretching long enough that I felt it in the pit of my stomach. Her eyes gave nothing away. There was only that coolness she always wore like armor. And suddenly, the room felt smaller, suffocating.

She shrugged, a quick, almost careless motion, her hand running over her brow, rubbing her face like she was trying to erase something she couldn’t—something too painful to face. "Of course... I’m human," she muttered, the words sharp and cold, cutting through the tension between us. She glanced at me, her eyes still distant, but there was a flicker of something—something real. "But I didn’t do it in the end, did I?"

Her voice wasn’t soft—it was matter-of-fact, like this was some trivial conversation, something insignificant. But it wasn’t. Not to me. Every word she spoke made my chest tighten. She didn’t need to do it, but the fact that she was even considering it, that she had considered it—It made my mind race, and suddenly, nothing felt solid under my feet.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I took a step back, my breath caught in my throat. "Caitlyn... does she know about this? That you came to me for help?" My voice trembled as the words left my mouth, a thick, uneasy feeling creeping up my spine. There was a sickness building in my stomach, cold and unforgiving.

Vi hesitated for a brief moment, and for the first time, I saw something like guilt flicker in her eyes. She quickly looked away, but the damage had already been done. "Loris first talked to Caitlyn about you and your workshop," she muttered, almost defensively. "And then... I was sent out. But she still kicked me out – I’m not welcome there anymore. That doesn’t change—"

"Yes!" I cut her off, my voice louder, panic rising in my chest like a tide crashing against me. "That changes EVERYTHING. Of course Caitlyn is behind all of this. Not just Loris and his stupid ideas... no, you were sent by your little girlfriend like a damn puppet!" My words felt sharp, venomous, slipping out before I could even stop them.

My heart hammered against my ribs, the reality settling over me like a weight I couldn’t lift. Every word she spoke only twisted the knot in my stomach tighter. Betrayal, like cold steel, sank deeper into my chest. The thought of being a pawn in whatever game Caitlyn was playing made me feel sick. How had I been so blind? Vi was supposed to be different. We had something—at least I thought we did. But now, everything felt like it was slipping through my fingers, and I had no idea how to hold it all together.

Vi’s brows furrowed, and the flash of anger in her eyes didn’t do much to ease the storm building inside me. "Stop blaming everything on Caitlyn. She’s not the only one who made mistakes. You’re aware of that, right?"

I felt the blood drain from my face as I processed what she’d said. The shock lingered, thick and suffocating, as if someone had just shoved the air out of my lungs. "Now you’re defending her too?" The words slipped out sharp, bitter. The realization was too much to bear, and I could hear the tremor in my voice as I tried to keep my anger from consuming me. "She kicked you out like a fucking dog." My hands clenched into fists, but I couldn’t get the words to match the weight in my chest.

I took another step back, a sick feeling clawing at my insides. Vi’s eyes never left mine, her posture stiff and unyielding, her defiance as strong as ever. But instead of feeling reassured, her gaze made everything worse. How could she still stand there, defending this? How could she justify any of this? My world felt like it was collapsing, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was drowning in it.

And suddenly, everything was too much. The weight of my jealousy, my insecurities, all the doubt I had hidden away—it crashed over me. I had always been the second choice. Always. Caitlyn had been the first. She had been the one Vi cared about, and I was the one who had been left behind.

In that moment, I realized just how far we were from being okay. We were both so broken. And no matter how hard we tried, it was clear we didn’t know how to put ourselves back together.

"I don't intend to be the second choice, Vi," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper. The words felt like they were spilling out of me, each one breaking something inside, a sharp reminder of how much I’d been hiding. "The last few weeks together, the new trust, and the kiss... it felt so beautiful, but now it just feels empty."

I hated myself for saying it, but it was the truth. It felt like I had just gutted myself with my own confession. The words tore through me, leaving raw, bleeding wounds I wasn’t ready to face. My fingers trembled, unconsciously tugging at the hem of my jacket as I fought to keep it together. But I couldn’t bring myself to look at her—not anymore. Not when I had just revealed all my fears, my vulnerabilities, only to be met with the silence that pressed between us.

And then, she sighed. That sigh—it wasn’t just a breath, it was something else, something heavier. It sounded almost like a burden, a release of everything she hadn’t said. That sound cut deeper than anything else she could have said.

"I... I have to go to the fight," she said, her voice distant, detached, like the moment we had shared had already slipped away from her.

Her words hit me like a punch to the stomach, and I didn’t know which hurt more: that she dismissed me so easily, or the cruel truth that I was nothing more than a passing distraction. I could feel the sinking weight in my chest as the reality of it all settled in. I wasn’t important. Not really. And I wasn’t enough.

I couldn’t bring myself to look up, not when she was walking past me like I didn’t matter. Like I never had.

But then, as she reached the door, she stopped.

"Thanks for the makeup," she said, her voice soft but detached. The words were hollow, almost robotic, like she was speaking to a stranger. And just like that, it was over.

The door slammed behind her with a force that echoed in my chest. The sound reverberated through the room, filling the silence that followed with a suffocating weight. I stayed frozen, staring at the closed door, my breath shallow, my heart pounding so fast it felt like it might break free from my chest.

Tears welled up in my eyes before I could stop them, the pain swelling in my throat, but I couldn’t let them fall. I wanted to scream, but no sound came out. Instead, I just stood there, my hand pressed to my mouth, fighting the lump that had taken root in my throat. How had everything gone so wrong? How could something so beautiful, so real, slip away in an instant, with nothing but a few words, a single sentence?

I hated myself for not being strong enough to handle this, for not knowing how to protect what I had with her. I could feel the anger building inside me, the frustration at myself for being so weak, for letting her into a place she hadn’t even asked to be. I had given her a part of me I couldn’t take back, a part I hadn’t even known was missing until it was too late.

I was losing her. And it was all my fault.

With a force I didn’t even know I had left in me, I grabbed my tools and threw them across the room, not caring about the noise, the mess, or the broken pieces scattered across the floor. It was all so pointless. Everything was pointless. The workshop, the Gauntlets, the promises I had made—none of it mattered now. I couldn’t fix this. I couldn’t fix us.

I sank down to the floor, pulling my knees to my chest, burying my face in my arms. I wanted to disappear, to not feel this crushing weight of regret, sorrow, and helplessness. But all I could do was sit there, in the mess of my own making, the tears finally falling freely, as the truth settled in: I would never be the one she chose. Not when Caitlyn was always in the background of her thoughts. Not when I was always just the one who was left behind.

And that was the part that hurt the most.

After her fight, she didn’t come to see me—not that time, nor the next, nor the one after that. She disappeared, leaving a gaping void in my life that swallowed everything else. The silence she left behind was deafening, a cold emptiness I couldn’t fill. She didn’t show up at my workshop, didn’t send a message, not even the faintest hint that she was still out there, still alive, still Vi.

The worst part? Even Loris hadn’t reached out to me.

The silence was maddening.

Every passing day felt like it was pulling me further into the abyss of self-doubt and confusion. I could hardly focus on the simplest of tasks, let alone my clients' requests. Each weapon, each modification felt like a futile attempt at normalcy, a distraction I wasn't even worthy of. And every time I tried to work, Vi’s face would flash in my mind—her sorrowful gaze, the rare curve of her smile, the warmth of her touch. The memory of her name twisted in my chest like a bitter ache I couldn’t rid myself of. The faint scent of her, like sweat and metal, still lingered in the corners of my workshop, a phantom I couldn’t escape, no matter how hard I tried.

This morning, I had finished her gauntlets—her prototype gauntlets, at least. But without her exact measurements, I had to rely on the fragments of her I could still remember. I couldn't ask her, and that hurt in ways I didn’t know how to name. Instead, I closed my eyes, letting my memories guide me—the way her hand cradled my cheek, the firmness of her grip when she pulled me closer, the exact feel of her pulse against my palm. I worked through those fragments, adjusting and reworking until they felt as close as I could get to right. But when they were done, when I finally looked at them resting on the bench, I felt nothing but emptiness.

Jesus fucking Christ, I needed air.

Pulling on my jacket, I tugged the hood low over my face and stepped outside. The streets were bustling as always, a steady river of people flowing past—voices raised in heated barters, arguments spilling over the sound of clinking coins. The air smelled like dust, oil, and the faint scent of street food. Chatter about upcoming fights and the prize money rattled in the background, grinding against my nerves. I moved through the crowd without really seeing anyone, my mind heavy with a thousand things I couldn’t quite piece together.

I walked without purpose, just to keep moving, until I reached the one place that always brought me a hint of peace: the old fountain near the outskirts of the market.

It wasn’t much, not anymore. The stone was cracked, chipped by years of neglect and weather, the water in it long since gone stagnant. But it held a charm, an old quiet that seemed untouched by the chaos around it. It was a place I could breathe.

I perched on the edge of the fountain, feeling the rough stone under my palms, and tilted my head back to stare at the sky. The sun was low, casting long shadows on the street, and the air was crisp, sharp, a welcome contrast to the heat in my chest. I closed my eyes for a moment, letting the wind wash over me, as if it could pull the storm from my mind.

For a second, everything felt distant, calm. But it didn’t last.

Someone sat down beside me. I didn’t look at them at first, but the quiet presence was familiar enough to pull at my attention. I turned, and the large coat and those curious eyes gave them away.

I managed a faint smile. "Jayce," I muttered, pulling my knees to my chest. "Are you here to give me a lecture? Did Viktor send you to stalk me?"

Jayce avoided my gaze, instead looking up at the sky. He sighed softly before speaking. "Caitlyn sent me." His tone was casual, but his next words shattered my calm entirely. "I'm here to find Vi and bring her back. There’s news about Jinx."

My breath hitched, and my chest tightened painfully. "What?" The word came out louder than I intended, panic bleeding into my voice. "Now? I thought Caitlyn threw her out! What does she want with Vi now?"

Jayce glanced at me, startled by my reaction. "I don’t know much," he admitted, placing a steadying hand on my shoulder. "Caitlyn just has questions and needs Vi's help to track down Jinx. I’m sorry, kid. That’s all I know."

My thoughts spiraled, collapsing in on themselves. I rubbed my face with trembling hands, trying to steady my breathing. Jayce must have noticed my turmoil because he leaned in, leveling his gaze with mine.

"You know where she is, don't you?" he asked, his voice low but teasing. "Brawler Vi—it's all anyone's talking about. Not exactly a hit with the Enforcers these days."

I grimaced. "Probably because Loris can't keep his damn mouth shut," I muttered. But the truth sat heavy on my tongue. I didn’t want to give her away. "I don’t know where she is," I lied, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside. "We had a fight. It’s been a week since I’ve seen her. Sorry."

Jayce tilted his head, his smirk returning. "You're working on new gauntlets for her, but you don't know where she is? Strange, don’t you think?" He leaned back casually, but his words stung. "You don’t have to bother with that, you know. I already fixed her gauntlets ages ago."

The weight of his words hit me like a brick. So, there really was no reason for Vi to come back to me. The gauntlets were just an excuse, a fragile hope I’d been clinging to.

"I really don’t know where she is," I said again, forcing my voice to remain even. "And even if I did... I wouldn’t tell you."

Jayce sighed as he rose to his feet, scanning the bustling streets around us before murmuring, "Alright. Guess I'll have to tell Caitlyn that Vi's probably gone back to Zaun. Such a shame..."

I blinked, caught off guard. There was something almost playful in his tone, a shared disdain for Caitlyn's manipulative nature. I found myself smiling faintly, crossing my arms over my chest. "Yeah... she's probably there."

Jayce shot me a playful wink before spinning on his heel and strolling off with exaggerated confidence.

"Wait!" I suddenly shouted, the urgency in my voice surprising both of us. Jayce turned around, his expression one of mild curiosity. My thoughts were racing, tumbling over one another, and I blurted out the first question that came to mind. "Caitlyn... does she... does she talk about Vi?"

The question hung in the air, thick with everything I had been too afraid to ask. I felt my face flush, embarrassment prickling at my skin. But no one knew Caitlyn better than Jayce. I needed to know.

Jayce paused, his expression softening for a brief moment. He smiled slightly and looked down, a quiet sigh escaping his lips as though he was lost in thought. "I think she's in good hands. Maddie... I think that’s her name." His voice was calm, but there was an air of finality to it. Still, something in his eyes made my chest tighten—something I couldn’t quite place.

I swallowed hard, unsure how to process this new piece of information. Maddie? Who was she? And why did Caitlyn need someone else? Questions spun in my mind, gnawing at the edge of my thoughts, but I couldn't bring myself to ask any more.

Jayce's gaze flicked up to meet mine, his face unreadable. He must have sensed the tension in me, because he softened his tone. "She's been through a lot... you know that, right?" he added quietly, as if trying to offer some form of comfort.

I knew Caitlyn had been through a lot, and I understood she deserved someone by her side, but my resentment churned like acid in my chest. I bit it back, swallowing it down. "I know," I answered, the words coming out shorter than I meant. "We all have."

Jayce's smile faltered. The corners of his lips turned down slightly as he processed my tone. He sighed, a long, heavy breath, and for a moment, it felt like the weight of everything I hadn’t said hung between us. He gave me a look, like he could see right through the façade I was wearing.

"And yet, here we are," he murmured, his voice quiet but firm. "Life’s too short to dwell on what could’ve been. Keep your eyes forward, and move on." His words were a gentle nudge, but they landed heavier than I expected. He wasn’t trying to fix me—he was just stating a truth I already knew.

A small, understanding smile tugged at the corners of his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes the way it usually did. There was something else there now, a quiet sincerity that almost felt like an apology—or maybe a resignation.

He gave me one last look, and with a light chuckle, turned and walked off. I stayed there, rooted to the spot, the echo of his words lingering in the air like a reminder I wasn’t quite ready to face.

This new information gnawed at me. Vi couldn’t find out that people were looking for her—that Caitlyn was looking for her. I could only hope that wherever Loris was, he felt the same way. Because if Vi found out, I wasn’t sure I’d ever see her again.

The journey back home wasn’t supposed to feel this heavy. Every step through the marketplace, every whispered mention of her name, wore down my resolve. Vi. It was always Vi. Her name settled deep in my chest, heavier with each passing moment, a constant tug of longing and pain that I couldn’t shake.

The crowd surrounding the ring was denser than I expected, a wave of bodies and noise pressing in from every direction, as if intent on swallowing me whole. The air felt thick, heavy with sweat and the electric buzz of adrenaline. My heart hammered in my chest, each beat louder than the distant cheers, louder even than the tumult of my thoughts.

“Move it!” I shouted, my voice cracking as I shoved through the crowd, desperation lending me a strength I didn’t feel. By the time I reached the edge of the pit, my breath was ragged, and my fingers gripped the railing so tightly that my knuckles ached, pale against the dark metal.

And then, I saw her.

Vi was a force in the center of the ring, every movement a calculated blend of precision and raw power. She lunged forward, landing an uppercut that sent her opponent reeling. Her stance was a perfect mix of effortless fluidity and deadly purpose, each strike a testament to her strength.

I had never seen her like this before—alive in a way that unsettled me. She didn’t just fight; she commanded the space around her, claiming it with every swing, every step. The crowd’s roar fed her, igniting something in her that made her even more untouchable.

Until, suddenly, she wasn’t.

Her gaze swept over the crowd, and when her eyes met mine, everything stopped. The world around us melted away—the noise, the chaos, the bloodied fight—until there was just her and me. Her wide eyes held something unspoken, a crack in the carefully built armor she wore.

But it didn’t last.

The blow landed hard, a brutal hit to her side that sent her staggering. My breath hitched in my throat. I wanted to scream, reach out, do anything, but I couldn’t move. The pain etched on her face wasn’t just physical. There was something more in her expression, something she couldn’t hide, not even for the crowd.

My hands trembled as I tore my gaze away, desperately scanning for a way out of the chaos. A narrow hallway caught my attention—dimly lit, a quiet escape that led to the backstage area. Without thinking, I slipped away, each step taking me further from the noise and closer to her.

The backstage room stood in stark contrast to the frenzied energy outside. It was quiet—almost unnervingly so. The air felt stale, heavy. My gaze immediately landed on her jacket, draped carelessly over a chair. It was unmistakably hers, a piece of her world left behind in the rush to prove herself in the ring.

I reached out, fingers brushing the worn leather. It felt like touching a ghost—familiar, yet distant. A reminder of all the times she’d shrugged it over her shoulders with that effortless confidence. Even in its stillness, the weight of it felt as though it might crush me.

My eyes wandered to the counter, cluttered with makeup pencils and smudged brushes. The mirror above it bore faint streaks—evidence of hurried attempts to transform herself into someone she thought she needed to be.

I traced a finger along the edge of the counter, my heart aching at the thought of her sitting here, trying to mask the parts of herself she believed weren’t enough. The thought of those same hands—hands that had cradled my face with such tenderness—fumbling with eyeliner made my chest tighten painfully.

A soft laugh slipped from my lips, bitter, more out of sorrow than amusement. She was a storm, a force of nature in the ring. But here she was, leaving behind fragments of vulnerability she thought no one would notice.

But I noticed. I always noticed.

The air shifted as the door creaked open, and I felt her presence before I saw her—electric, heavy, like a storm gathering in the distance. Vi stood there, her gaze locking onto mine with an intensity that made my chest tighten. Blood trickled from her nose, bandages barely holding on, her breath uneven.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. Her jaw was set, but something flickered in her eyes—a raw, unguarded moment—before it was quickly masked, just as she had always done.

"I won," she said, her voice low, almost casual, though I could hear the frustration simmering beneath the surface. "Though your little cameo nearly cost me. What were you thinking, showing up like that?"

Her words were sharp, but strangely, the venom I’d expected didn’t come through. My gaze involuntarily flickered to her injuries again, a pit forming in my stomach. She noticed, of course, and let out a short, humorless laugh as she caught me looking.

"Don't give me that look," she muttered, brushing past me toward the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her—bloody, bruised, but she didn’t flinch. Her face, though battered, still held a kind of fierce resolve. "I know how to do the makeup now," she added, a faint smirk pulling at the corners of her lips, but it was bittersweet. "Not that it matters much after this mess."

I opened my mouth to respond, but her sharp look silenced me. There was something in her eyes now—something raw and unguarded—that stopped me. Her voice, laced with an edge I hadn’t expected, pierced the silence.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her words slicing through the air like a blade. "I stopped coming to you for a reason. You didn’t want to see me anymore, so why are you here now?"

Her accusation hit harder than I expected, deeper than any punch I had just watched her throw. My throat tightened, and the weight of her words sank into my chest like a stone, leaving a hollow ache.

"I never said I didn’t want to see you," I said softly, my voice betraying the vulnerability I hadn’t let myself feel until now. I took a hesitant step forward, unsure if I was pushing too much. "That fight we had... I don’t want that to be the end of us."

She turned to face me fully now, her expression unreadable, but her shoulders were tight with tension, as if she were bracing herself for something.

"I didn’t mean to accuse you of anything," I continued, the words spilling out before I could stop them. My voice cracked, and I hated how it sounded. "I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty, Vi. Ever since you stopped coming to the workshop, it’s been empty. I’ve been empty. I hate it."

For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and the silence stretched between us, thick and suffocating. She ran a hand through her sweat-matted hair, her movements restless, like she was trying to put some distance between herself and everything I had just said.

"You're just here to make yourself feel better," she said finally, her voice cutting through the air, but it didn’t strike with the force she intended. The words were sharp, but I could tell she was trying to hide how much they hurt. "That’s what this is about, right? Trying to patch yourself up by dragging me into it."

"Vi, shut up," I snapped, my anger flaring more sharply than I intended. The words came out harsher than I meant, but I didn’t back down. The frustration that had been building for days, weeks, finally broke free. "I don’t want this to happen again. I don’t care if I was just a... just a toy for you or not. I need to talk to you. Please."

She froze, her eyes narrowing for just a second before a faint, almost bitter smile curled at the corners of her lips. "I know Caitlyn's looking for me," she said, her voice light but laced with something sharper, something that stung. "But it's cute how you came straight to me to say it. Really, what am I supposed to do with that? I have no interest in working for the Enforcers again. And like you said—" Her gaze flicked to mine, pointed and cutting, "—the Undercity would only ever see me as a traitor."

She twisted my words effortlessly, reshaping them into a blade aimed directly at me. The sting was sharp, deliberate, but somehow, in that moment, it didn’t matter.

"You already know?" I asked, my voice trembling slightly, perplexed. "How?"

Vi didn’t meet my gaze. Instead, she kept her eyes on the mirror, methodically peeling the bandages from her arms. "I've got my own contacts, you know?" she muttered, her tone clipped, almost dismissive. "Information about Jinx reaches me faster than it gets to the Academy or Caitlyn." She stretched, her muscles protesting with a low groan before she continued. "But it doesn’t matter anyway. I’m done with this endless cat-and-mouse game."

The words didn’t sound like her—not the Vi I’d come to know so deeply. There was no fire, no fight in her voice. It wasn’t anger—it was resignation. My chest ached as I struggled to reconcile the person standing before me with the fierce, unyielding fighter I had admired.

"Is that all you came here to tell me?" she asked suddenly, her voice cold and sharp as she finally turned to face me. Her eyes cut into mine, and I couldn’t hold her gaze for long. I looked at the floor instead, guilt twisting inside me like a heavy weight. "Or... are you here to yell at me about something else?"

Her words stung, but I couldn’t let them go unanswered. "I never yelled at you," I said softly, my voice quiet but the emotion still leaking through. I looked up at her then, forcing myself to meet her piercing gaze. "I know you're hurt too. You're lost, just like I am. And I... I should’ve never called you a traitor." My throat tightened as I spoke, every word harder to get out. "I was angry. And the feelings you had for Caitlyn—they felt out of place, didn't they? That’s what I thought back then."

Her laugh was sharp, almost cruel. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate and filled with tension, like she was carefully managing every inch of space between us. "What fucking feelings?" she hissed, her voice low but seething with frustration. "I told you I’m over her, didn’t I? Do you honestly think I would've spent all that damn time in your workshop if I wasn’t completely into you?"

Her voice rose, and the fury in her words hit me like a wave, burning through my defenses. The frustration she carried was palpable, raw, undeniable. "Goddamn it, how blind can you be? Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of mechanic? Aren’t you smarter than this?"

She was inches from me now, her eyes locked onto mine, and my heart thundered in my chest. I could feel her breath—hot, uneven—against my skin.

"I... you could've just communicated that clearly with me," I stammered, my voice barely above a whisper. I hated how small I sounded, how unsure I felt in the face of her intensity.

Her laugh came again, bitter and sharp like a blade. "More clearly?" she scoffed, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I stare at you when you're not looking. I kiss you, and your brilliant fucking takeaway is that I'm still hung up on Caitlyn?" She leaned in closer, her expression a mix of disbelief and fury. "What do I have to do? Cut off my fingers and make you a necklace out of the bones?"

Her words hit me like a blow, leaving me reeling, my thoughts a disjointed mess. "No... that's not what I meant," I started, my voice faltering, trying to grasp at some coherence. "It wouldn’t have surprised me if—"

I didn’t get to finish. Vi stepped forward and shoved me, hard. My back collided with the counter in front of the mirror, the edge digging painfully into my spine, forcing the air from my lungs in a startled gasp.

"Shut the fuck up," she snarled, her voice low and commanding, cutting through the space between us.

Before I could respond, she lunged at me. Her lips crashed against mine in a kiss so aggressive, so consuming, it knocked the breath out of me. Her hands gripped me tightly, roaming over my body with a roughness that left my skin burning.

She was all heat, all fire and desperation. Every touch, every movement, left me trembling, as though she were trying to burn away the tension that had built up between us. She smelled like sweat, iron, and something uniquely hers, an intoxicating mix that overwhelmed my senses in the best possible way.

My thoughts dissolved in the onslaught of her—her hands, her lips, her breath—leaving only the feeling of her presence, wild and alive, a storm that consumed me whole.

I kissed her back just as fiercely, pulling her closer, clutching at her as though she might vanish the moment I let go. The world outside of us faded to nothing—I didn’t care about anything except her.

God, I had missed her.

Warning; The Smut starts here.

She kissed me harder, her lips pressing against mine with a hunger that left me breathless. Slowly, her mouth trailed down to my neck, and I shivered as she kissed, nibbled, and then bit into the sensitive skin. The sudden sting made me flinch, but the heat of it bloomed into dark marks, clear signs of her desire to leave her mark.

Pinned against the mirror, I felt trapped, exposed, but in that moment, I couldn’t bring myself to care. My hands slid up to her neck, fingers tangling in her hair as she leaned into me, her body pressing against mine with a hunger that sent electric sparks through my veins. Every kiss, every touch, was loaded with the frustration and longing she had been carrying. It was all there, in the way she held me—possessive, urgent, as if she couldn’t get enough.

Her hands moved down to my blouse, fumbling with the buttons in her frustration. The clumsy, desperate movements mirrored the tension radiating off her. My heart raced, the air thick with the raw energy between us, and my breath hitched when she let out a low growl. In one swift motion, she simply grabbed the fabric and tore it apart.

"That was a nice top," I murmured, my voice uneven, though I couldn’t hide the playful edge as I met her gaze.

Her lips curled into a crooked smirk, her eyes alight with a mix of amusement and mischief. "Not as nice as your tits.", she purred while squeezing the soft flesh. Every single hair on my body stood on end, and I was already struggling to keep quiet from her touch. 

I could feel the dirty bandages on her chest loosening more and more, but I didn't even get the chance to catch a glimpse because Vi held me as if I were the most precious prize on earth. "I've waited so long," she murmured, her voice low and breathless against my ear. Her lips brushed my earlobe, planting soft, lingering kisses before trailing downward to the curve of my neck. Her fingers lazily played with my nipples while her hot breath did nothing but drive me even more crazy. 

"Fuck, Vi..." I managed, my voice trembling, exhaustion and yearning warring within me. "Here? Backstage?" I asked weakly, while her lips were still on my tits. She glanced up at me with an innocent expression that made my heart stutter, her wide-eyed gaze a perfect contrast to the mischievous grin tugging at her lips. It was surprising how much seeing her in that position turned me on even more than the actual act itself. 

Her hands moved downward with care, her touch igniting sparks while she had no trouble reaching between my legs at all. Every movement felt precise, intentional, like she already knew from the start that this would happen. 

"So warm," she whispered teasingly, her lips brushing against the edge of my jaw as she tilted her head to watch me. The soft grin she wore sent a flicker of embarrassment through me, but that quickly melted under the weight of her gaze—a gaze that told me she saw everything and still couldn't get enough. Her intensity was all-consuming. Every glance she cast, every small sound that escaped her lips, felt electric, as if the world beyond this moment had ceased to exist. It was overwhelming and intoxicating, the way she made me feel.
It was Vi—unrelenting, unapologetic, and entirely captivating.

She trailed circular motions on the fabric of my pants, while my head was thrown back and my heart ready to fucking explode. "Can I get these off, yeah?", she whispered, and I didn't even need to reply, because her swift movement and my instant cooperation made it easier than she thought.

She kisses along my jawline, down my neck, her teeth grazing my sensitive skin. Her hips continue their relentless grinding, the heat between my legs growing with each passing second.

 "Tell me you want this too," she whisperd in my ear, her hand slipping into my pants to cup my core. "Tell me you want me as badly as I want you."

"I do.., I thought I made that clear.", I huffed with an amused facial expression, my heart and breathing heavy. The air between us was thick and coated by something unspoken.., but that made it better - atleast somehow. I still felt this gnawing in my chest, a longing for conversation... but the way she looked at me made it okay.

Talk could wait.

Vi's eyes darkened with lust at my words, a certain longing in her facial expression. "Oh, I think I need to hear you say it," she purred, her fingers were teasing my clit through my damp panties.

"I want to hear you beg for me. Beg for my touch, my kiss, my everything." She captured my lips in another searing kiss, her tongue delving into my mouth as she continued to stroke my most sensitive spots.

My hips bucked against her hand, seeking more friction, more pleasure. Vi broke the kiss, her lips trailing down my neck as she murmured against my skin.

"I'm going to make you feel so good, baby. I'm going to worship every inch of your body until you're screaming my name." She spun me around, pressing my front against the cool tile of the mirrored wall. Her hands slid down my sides, hooking into the waistband of my pants and pulling them down along with my panties in one swift motion.

Vi dropped to her knees behind me, her hands gripping my hips as she buried her face between my thighs. I could feel the bandages falling completely, her soft breasts pressing against the back of my legs. Her tongue grazed at my folds, circling my clit before plunging inside me. "Fuck, you taste so sweet," she groaned, her fingers digging into my flesh as she devoured me.

The air around us grew heavier, the mirror in front of me fogged up from my breath, and the room was filled with the scent of sweat and desire. My legs trembled as I tried to steady myself against the slippery glass in front of me. It was futile, and with every quick movement, I slid a little further down.

She worked me with her mouth and tongue, bringing me closer and closer to the edge. Just as I was about to come undone, she pulled away, leaving me panting and desperate. "Not yet," she growled, standing up and spinning me back around to face her. "I'm not done with you yet."

I took a deep breath, my eyes filled with exhaustion and bliss. "How do I look...? A mess?", I asked, trying to maintain a playful manner. She seemed to enjoy the moment. Vi's eyes rake over my body, taking in the flush of my cheeks and the glazed look in my eyes.

A slow, wicked grin spreads across her face as she reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. "Mess? Nah, baby. You look absolutely fuckable," she purred, her voice low and husky with desire. She leaned in close, her lips brushing against my ear as she whispers, "And trust me, I'm going to make the most of it." I laughed, legs still shaking.

"You are a menace.., but you know that.". She trailed her lips down my neck, her teeth grazing my sensitive skin as her hands slid down my body once again. Her fingers dip between my thighs, teasing my wet folds before sliding inside me.

"Is this what you want? My fingers buried deep inside you?" Vi pumped her fingers in and out of , curling them to hit that spot that makes my toes curl. Her thumb rubs circles around my clit, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through my body. "Or maybe you prefer my tongue on you again? Licking and sucking until you're screaming my name?"

She pulled her fingers out, bringing them to her lips and sucking them clean. "Mmm, you taste so fucking good," she grins, her eyes locked on mine. "I could taste you all day and never get enough." 

Embarrassment flushed across my face as her eyes scanned over mine, but I couldn't help letting my gaze drift to her chest as well.

The scars and slight injuries only seemed to make her even more attractive than before. I wrapped my arms around her neck, pulling her into me and kissing her softly. Her lips tasted so sweet, like me, but at the same time so uniquely different.

The way she leaned into my touch made me want to eat her alive, worship her, tell her how much she means to me. The way she fondled fingers, pulled my hair, kissed my neck... - it was heaven. No amount of hextech could ever reach this level of tension and achievement I felt in this moment.

"I dont want you to leave again...", I whispered, her fingers rubbing my clit while that wide grin was still plastered on her face."Dont go back...". 

She nodded, still kissing me, holding me close while pumping inside me. Making me feel good and cared for. Her hands were rough, calloused and a bit frantic, but the way her concentrated eyes roamed over my body made me weak, made me ignore the uncomfortable position I was in. 

"I am not leaving you. I'd be so fucking stupid to leave you.", she whispered into my ear. "No, stop talking. Enjoy this... concentrate on me.". 

I could not react as quickly as her words left her lips. She started fingering me faster, plunging in and out, making sure to fill the room with the soft sounds of my moans and the wet noises of lewd movements. 

"Fuck...". All I could say was that. Fuck. She kept kissing me, making me feel good and I did not want to leave that moment ever again.

"Vi.., please.", I huffed, my ears and cheeks redder than every ruby on this planet. "I am so c-close, I... please...". It was embarassing. Begging her... to finish me, but I could sense that she liked it. 

"Yeah? You are close?", she asked, kissing down my neck and diving her fingers into me even faster. "Come for me. Come on my fingers.., come on. You are allowed to, baby.".

My grip on her shoulders tightened as I screamed her name repeatedly, the release of my orgasm filling the room with the sweetest scent. I breathed like an idiot, could not catch my breath at all. "Fuck you...", I giggled, throwing my head back into the mirror behind us, a loud thump echoeing through the walls. "Shit...".

Vi’s grin widened, almost devilish, as though she knew exactly how to disarm me. Without warning, she leaned in and planted a quick, exaggerated kiss on my forehead. The gesture was so unexpected, so smug, that I found myself blinking in surprise, completely thrown off guard.

Leaning back with a laugh, she let her gaze travel over me slowly, her eyes lingering before finally meeting mine. "Still mad?" she teased, her head tilting to the side, the impish glint in her eye impossible to miss.

Her tone was playful, but there was something beneath it—a faint crack that betrayed the vulnerability she was trying to mask. It was like she was testing the waters, daring me to stay angry, but making it nearly impossible to do so.

I took a moment to steady my breath, my chest still rising and falling rapidly as I searched her face. I tried to make sense of her, but my thoughts were a mess, tangled in the web of frustration still coiled tightly inside me. "Yes, still," I whispered, my voice rough and low, betraying the weariness in my heart. My fingers fumbled with the waistband of my pants, pulling them back into place, my hands trembling slightly from the overwhelming emotions.

I turned away slightly, my gaze landing on the faint bruises her fingers had left on my neck. The sight made my stomach twist in ways I couldn’t quite explain, an ache settling deep within me.

Clearing my throat, I brushed the sticky strands of hair from my face, taking a moment to collect myself before looking back at her. "...But I don’t want to be anymore." My words were softer this time, almost pleading, the rawness of them echoing the fragile space between us.

I gave a hollow laugh, shaking my head as I let my eyes fall to the ground between us. "Why are we like this?" I asked, the words bitter on my tongue. "Five minutes ago, you were closer to me than anyone has ever been in my life... and now?" I met her gaze again, my chest tightening with the weight of my own vulnerability. "Now, I feel so far away from you."

I sighed heavily, the weight of it all pushing the words from me before I could stop them. "Do you feel that too?"

Vi let out a soft sigh, and for a moment, I braced myself for the distance to slip back between us. I thought she was done, prepared to shut down again. But then, she surprised me.

She shook her head, her usual tough exterior crumbling just enough to reveal something softer, more raw. She reached out, her fingers curling gently around mine, grounding me with the warmth of her touch.

"Listen to me," she said quietly, her voice carrying a weight that seemed to press down on my chest. Her eyes flicked away for a brief moment, as if the intensity of the moment was too much for her to bear, but then they found mine again. "My whole life... I’ve been in survival mode—after my parents, after Vander... after Jinx." She paused, her grip tightening on my hands, as if afraid I might slip away. "No matter who I was with, I always ended up alone. Always had to pick up the pieces by myself."

Her voice cracked, just barely, but enough to send a pang through me. She shook her head again, and when her eyes met mine this time, they were steady, resolute. "I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to keep pushing people away, keep ending up with nothing but regrets."

Her next words came out softer, almost like a confession. "The fact that I feel... completely different with you—it scares me. It’s hard for me to even understand." Her fingers trembled slightly against mine, a subtle betraying of the vulnerability she tried so hard to bury.

"But," she added, her tone more resolute now, "I’m trying. I don’t want to screw this up... not with you."

I took a deep breath, steadying the swirl of emotions inside me as a tentative sense of relief began to take root. "Okay," I whispered, my voice soft but firm. "I'm not asking you to trust me completely or put everything else aside. I just... need to know where I stand." My gaze held hers as I raised a finger, gently pressing it against her chest, right above her heart. "In here."

For a moment, her pupils flickered, betraying a vulnerability she rarely allowed anyone to see. The roar of the crowd outside seemed like a distant echo, as if the world had paused, leaving only the two of us in this fragile bubble. Vi's hand moved up, calloused and rough, as she cupped my cheek, her thumb brushing gently along my jaw. The contrast made me flinch, but I didn't pull away.

Her lips curved into a sly grin, but her eyes held a softness that made my heart ache. "I'd say... there's still room in there," she teased, her voice low and warm, as she leaned in. Before I could respond, she closed the space between us, pressing a kiss to my lips.

The kiss was simple, unhurried, yet it carried a weight that felt like a promise—a promise that even with all the chaos, there was a chance for something real, something that belonged only to us.

A wave of relief washed over me after the kiss—like everything inside me had settled for just a moment. It was small, but it meant everything. As she pulled away, I exhaled deeply, the air between us thick with tension and unsaid words.

"What are you going to do now? About... Caitlyn?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. The question had been eating at me for a while now. "Even Councilor Jayce was at the marketplace, looking for you."

Her eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face. "Jayce? Jayce Talis? Seriously?" she asked, her tone betraying an unexpected hint of concern. "Was he... was he mad?"

I couldn't help but be taken aback by the fact that she even cared. I had always thought of her as fiercely independent—too proud to be bothered by anyone's opinions. Yet, here she was, clearly unsettled by the thought of Jayce's reaction. Shaking my head, I leaned back against the counter, trying to gather my thoughts. "No... he was kind. I kind of expected that Cait wouldn't just let you go, but the fact that she's sending other people to track you down is surprising," I replied, trying to make sense of the situation myself.

Vi's silence was louder than I expected. She looked away, her jaw tightening. The weight of her choices, the pull between what she wanted and what she knew she couldn't keep running from, was clear in her expression.

"Jayce actually has other problems, and still, he wanted to find me..." Vi sighed, her voice low and thoughtful, as if the weight of those words were settling in her chest. She grabbed her leather jacket from the back of the chair and slid her arms through the sleeves with an almost mechanical precision. "Of course, she's sending other people... she's busy turning herself into a damn dictator... with the help of that noxian bitch."

I watched her movements, my gaze flicking from her hands to her face, trying to read what was beneath her tough exterior. But she wasn’t making it easy. When she had the jacket on, I tilted my head, still trying to make sense of everything. "What are you planning? Back to the Academy...?" I asked cautiously, my voice betraying a trace of fear—the kind that comes when you've been left in the dark too many times before. The idea that she might just leave, slip away into the world that felt so far from me, was unbearable.

Vi met my gaze, her eyes unreadable for a moment, before she nodded. "First, I'll wipe this crap off my face," she said, her tone somewhat softer now, like she was trying to ease the tension in the room. Then, almost too casually, she added, "...and then... we'll probably have to go to Caitlyn."

I felt my chest tighten at the mention of Caitlyn. The thought of stepping into that world again, where secrets and expectations loomed over everything, made my skin crawl. I widened my eyes in surprise, uncertainty pooling in my stomach. "Wait, what? Go to her? After everything?" I barely had time to process it before Vi smirked, clearly enjoying the effect her words had on me.

"Yeah, that's right," she said, her voice low but playful. "As long as you're ready to come with me...?"

I widened my eyes. "Me? Come with you? I don't know if Caitlyn will think that's cool. After all, I don't have direct access to the building and—"

"I'm in... and if things really get tough, you still know that one Twink," she interrupted me with a grin, her voice laced with mischief.

I paused, caught off guard. "Tw... Viktor? You mean Viktor?" I asked, my voice trailing off in disbelief. I had to fight to suppress my laughter. The idea of calling Viktor a "Twink" was so far from anything I'd ever imagined.

I laughed, rubbing my face in disbelief. "Okay... yeah, but last time he didn't look so healthy. I don't want to drag him into my problems and—"

She cut me off, her fingers warm as they gently grasped mine. "We'll manage without him, okay? Don't worry so much. I'm with you... and because you're with me, I feel more confident."

Her words were simple, but they hit harder than I expected. I looked deeply into her eyes, searching for any hint of uncertainty, but all I found were those sparkling, confident eyes that seemed to say everything would be okay. It was as though her gaze alone was enough to wash away the doubts, and I had to fight the tightness in my chest.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded. "Okay... but please, clean yourself up before we show up there."

Vi’s smile softened, a rare warmth in her expression, and she leaned in to plant a quick kiss on my forehead. "And that's exactly why you're my favorite person in this fucked-up world."

My heart skipped a beat, and I fought to keep the words from spilling out—the ones I was terrified to say, the ones that felt too real. Instead, I settled for the first thing that came to mind, hoping it’d keep the moment light. "Suck-up."

Her laugh was low and warm, the sound of it settling into the space between us like a secret we both shared. I couldn’t help but smile in return, even as I tried to bury the rush of emotions that had suddenly flooded through me. She always had a way of making everything feel both chaotic and comforting at the same time. And right then, all I wanted was to hold onto that moment.

I couldn’t help but stare at her upper arms as she sat in my workshop, the warm water cascading down her face. The way she moved—so fluid, so deliberate—had an almost hypnotic effect on me. It was as if every gesture was deliberate, every motion purposeful, and I found myself captivated. I tried to focus, but my mind kept drifting, drawn into the rhythm of her actions, until the silence felt unbearable.

Finally, I broke it. "When Caitlyn tells you they've found Jinx and need your help... will you... uh, will you really help her? To... catch her, I mean?"

The question seemed to hang in the air, like a fragile thread, and she froze, her body still as though caught between my words and her own thoughts. For a moment, it felt like time itself had stopped. Then, slowly, she turned to face me, her expression almost unreadable, a flicker of something I couldn’t quite place in her eyes.

"I think so," she said softly, her voice quieter than usual, as if she was choosing each word carefully. "Caitlyn was hurt too, you know? Her family... they suffered because of Jinx's actions, and I can understand her hate. But at the same time, it’s... complicated."

She paused, her gaze flicking to the side, as if she was searching for the right words or perhaps sorting through the weight of what she was saying. "I have to do what I can. When the time comes... I'll figure it out."

Her voice trembled slightly, but the honesty in it made my chest tighten. I could see how torn she was—how much this weighed on her. Without thinking, I stood up from my chair and walked over to her. My hand found its way to her bare shoulder, a soft, steady touch.

"No matter what happens, or what you have to do," I whispered, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me, "I stand behind you, Vi."

She smiled, a flicker of warmth in her expression, and nodded. "I almost figured that..." she whispered, her voice soft and sincere. Then she stood up, moving toward me until she was directly in front of me, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that made my heart skip. "Thank you for everything... for even trying to copy the gauntlets. I'm really grateful."

Her words hung in the air, and something in my chest tightened. I wanted to say more, but I didn’t know how to put it into words. There was a strange mix of gratitude and vulnerability between us now, and it made me feel both closer to her and more uncertain than ever.

Then, almost as if trying to change the subject or lighten the mood, something came to me.

"Oh!" I blurted out, surprising myself. "Jayce said he fixed your original gauntlets. He said you could use them if you... wanted to offer help."

Her eyes shifted slightly, a mix of curiosity and hesitation crossing her face. "Jayce did that?" she asked, her tone soft, and I could see the wheels turning in her mind.

"Yeah, he seemed pretty confident they were in good condition now." I shrugged, trying to downplay it, even though a part of me felt nervous about how she might react. "I figured you could use them, if you wanted."

Vi's eyes widened in shock, and for a brief moment, she looked almost taken aback. Her gaze dropped to the ground, as if processing what I said, before her face softened into a gentle smile. "What? Really?" she murmured, disbelief in her voice. After a brief pause, she let out a quiet laugh. "Wow... this is getting pretty serious. Caitlyn must have really convinced him to fix them."

Her words were laced with something that I couldn't quite place—was it awe? Relief? It was hard to tell, but her smile was genuine, and I could see a flicker of something like hope behind her eyes.

I followed her gaze as it drifted to my desk, where the gauntlets I had made sat, still unfinished. Vi's expression softened, and she bit her lip. "Now I almost want to use yours anyway and—"

I couldn't help but laugh, cutting her off. "Better not," I teased, raising an eyebrow. "I'm a damn good mechanic, but I think this whole magic stuff... it's better off in the hands of real scientists."

Vi smirked, her eyes flashing with amusement. "Oh, really? So now you're telling me I can't trust your work?" she challenged, but there was a playful undertone to her words.

I shrugged, giving her a mock serious look. "Hey, you know I'm good, but when it comes to the real stuff, leave it to the professionals," I said, nodding toward the gauntlets on the desk.

She leaned in, her gaze flicking between the gauntlets and me. "Well, if you say so. But I'll admit... these look pretty solid." Her fingers brushed the edge of the desk, but she didn't touch them further.

I caught the slight hesitation in her movements, the way her fingers lingered near the gauntlets without fully committing to them. There was something almost reverent about the way she regarded them—like she was weighing the idea of using them, but unsure if it was the right choice.

"Yeah," I said quietly, watching her, "They're solid. But... I think you'd do better with the ones Jayce worked on. Less... experimental."

Vi nodded slowly, her expression thoughtful. "Yeah, you're probably right." She paused for a beat, then flashed a teasing grin. "But I’ll still give you credit for making me a backup set, just in case."

Vi grinned widely, her eyes sparkling with a mix of excitement and something deeper. "Are you ready? Together, we have a real chance to end this mess..."

She reached for my hands, her fingers sliding gently over mine, her touch grounding me. "How does that sound? Me and you against the world?" 

The weight of her words settled heavily on me, like a promise. My heart tightened for a moment, and with a smile that was both soft and wistful, I nodded. "Damn good. Someone could write a story about us... pretty dramatic." 

She rolled her eyes, but there was a warmth in her expression. "I like seeing you happy. Makes it even easier to fall for you."

Her words fell from her lips so effortlessly, and for a heartbeat, the world seemed to stop. I blinked, taken aback by the unexpected confession, my pulse suddenly erratic. "Vi..." I whispered, barely able to find my voice. She was close, so close, her words lingering in the air between us. The tension, the rawness of it, hit me all at once.

She didn't say anything more about it, her grin widening as she pulled me from my thoughts. "Come on... time to get going." I took a deep breath, the weight of her words still lingering, but before I could speak again, she tugged me along with her.
T
he sudden movement felt like a jolt, the air shifting between us. There was no more time for hesitation, no more room for doubts.

Me and Vi... together against the rest of the world.

END