~THE STORY~

Later, he’ll tell you he knocked, but in the moment, you didn’t hear him come in until he said, “Am I interrupting?”

You stumbled slightly, blinking back into reality as you’re pulled away from your work. Your partner, Jayce Talis, stands there with his disappointed but caring look on his face, holding flowers. What could those be for?

In a lame attempt, you try to stand up normally as if your body wasn’t aching, and as if you hadn’t been spending the entire night working on your project. He can see right through you, through. He walks over, still holding the flowers, his eyes glazing over your work. You expect a whole speech from him, but he doesn’t start. Instead, he says, “Remember the Distinguished Innovators Competition?”

Stunned, you respond in the only way you know how, “I remember you notching gears in the carriage over.”

“They started cranking the engine and the whole thing was rattling. I thought a loose cog was going to take someone’s eye out.”

You smile slightly, “At least you didn’t throw up.”

He smiles at that, too. Then he’s serious again. He shakes his head. “Everything made sense then.”

“Yes, there is a comfort in the past that I, too, miss.” You make your way over to your other desk, which is even more cluttered than the first. You almost trip over a cast book for a second and immediately, Jayce is there, holding you. “Shouldn’t you be resting?” he asks. 

Ah, so that was why he was holding flowers. That’s right. That’s what visitors at a hospital bring. But that meant he must have panicked when he didn’t find you there.

“The doctor let me go,” you lie, pushing him off of you. Petals fall from the flowers that got stuck between your two bodies. “Why do you care anyways?”

“I just…I just want you to be safe.” 

…He cares about you. Is that it? He shouldn’t. You should deflect this before you actually admit to yourself that you care about him, too. But at the same time, you don’t want to deflect. So much indecision has taken up time, so you end up giving him an awkward look and turn away.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem hurt by it. He goes over to one of your canvases and studies for a moment.

“I didn’t know you were an artist.”
“What are you talking about? Did you think I was a scientist?” you say, playfully.

“Ha-ha,” he says flatly, but he’s smiling, almost laughing to himself. At you. At you both.

There it was. Some normalcy again. Thank the gods. Maybe some truth now. “My parents wouldn’t let me become an artist.”

“What? Why?”

You shrug. “I guess I wasn’t up to my House’s standards with my silly little passions.”

“I don’t believe that for a second.” He walks to the window. “Do you?”

“I have been thinking lately,” you say, settling yourself down onto the couch you had your assistant bring in for the late night. “That my passions have been silly, and that perhaps it is better that I follow. That I stay the passenger and let them have some control back.”

“I’ve been confused about a lot lately, but there’s one thing I know in my bones. There is no force in this world that can control you.”

He walks over to sit next to you on the couch. He pulls the blanket off the back and wraps it around you. “You will never be a passenger.” Ah, so that was it.

He invites you to lean on his shoulder and you do. The rest of the night is still. And you fall asleep to the sound of the rain pitter-pattering outside in Piltover, and the sound of Jayce’s breathing and heartbeat. And for the first time in a long, long, time. You get some much needed rest.

The rain started pouring by the time you made it back to the commune. The light flickers from inside his tent. You take a deep breath and enter. You expect him to be in bed already, but he’s sitting at his desk, sketched by shadows from lamplights. The warmth of the fire softens your cheeks. You hear a soft humming of sorts coming from Viktor’s body. The Hexcore is still eating at him.

“Am I interrupting?”

Viktor jumps a little but his body relaxes when he sees you. He says your name. He smiles.

You walk over and collapse into the bed, pulling your knees up to your chest. You look at the walls, covered in sketches and research on the Hexcore and Arcane. You pick up a sketch or two and throw it back on the desk. “Remember the Distinguished Innovators Competition?”

“I remember you notching gears in the carriage over.”

“They started cranking the engine and the whole thing was rattling. I thought a loose cog was going to take someone’s eye out.”

“At least you didn’t throw up.”

“At least you weren’t banned from it. Nobody was ever going to believe in my abilities ever again…”

“Nobody’s ever believed in me,” Viktor got up and walked over to you, before settling in right next to you in bed. “Poor crippled from the Undercity. I was an outsider the moment I stepped foot in Piltover. I didn’t have the benefits of a patron or a name,” You shiver and he rubs your shoulder, “I simply believed in myself. Which is why I am here. Because I think you're onto something.”

You sink further into the crook of his body, right where both of your shapes fit together. “Not like you are. You were the best the Academy ever had in my humble opinion.”

“Figments. My contributions will be short-lived. Even in your memory.”

“Perhaps my memory of you is different from others. I would never break away from you like the Academy did.”

“It was…affection. That held us together.” He pushes your hair out of your face.

You smile. “Yes, and this disease will not make the better of us. Just you wait.”

He makes that adorably, innocently confused expression you know all too well, “For what?”

“I’ve got a couple of ideas. You think they’ll let me back in to start my research again?”

He looks down at you and smiles. “When you’re going to change the world, don’t ask for permission.”

And that was that. You blow out the bedside candle and cuddle together as the storm continues to pass. For a moment, in this corner of the world, everything is perfect and Viktor is safe with you, and you with him.

Well, you made it to the commune. At least you know Viktor can’t be mad at you, otherwise he definitely would not have let you in here….which means that he wanted you there. Could it be that after everything you’ve done, after everything the two of you have been through, Viktor still believes in you?

The rain’s getting heavier. You take a deep breath and enter the tent. You expect him to be standing there, waiting for you, but he’s not even standing. He’s sitting at a desk by a bed, sketched by shadows from lamplights. His hair has grown longer, there are some blond streaks hidden underneath. He’s wearing a long robe cinched at his waist, and there is soft humming of sorts coming from his body. The Hexcore is still eating at his body.

“Am I interrupting?”

Viktor jumps a little but his body relaxes when he sees you. He says your name. He smiles.

You walk over to him and sit on the bed. You look at the walls, covered in sketches and research on the Hexcore and Arcane. You pick up a sketch or two and throw it back on the desk. “Remember the Distinguished Innovators Competition?”

“I remember you notching gears in the carriage over.”

“They started cranking the engine and the whole thing was rattling. I thought a loose cog was going to take someone’s eye out.”

“At least you didn’t throw up.”

You scoff a little, studying him for a little bit. He was more purple than usual, that’s for sure. “Everything made sense then.”

Viktor gets up for a moment to sit on the bed next to you. “You have to destroy it.” He turns away, fighting off a coughing fit. “Promise me.”

“Okay. I promise.”

He withers slightly. “We lost ourselves, lost our dream. In the pursuit of great, we failed to do good. We have to make it right.”

“It was always just your dream, Viktor. Not mine.” You lean your head on his shoulder, “I’ll still never understand why you decided to stick around me…”

His gaze drops slightly. “It was affection…that held us together…I was supposed to die.”

“Like I was ever going to let that happen. You’ve done too much for Piltover, for the Undercity. You should be proud of everything you’ve done. You can’t just leave. You can’t just leave me.”

“Figments. My contributions will be short-lived. Even in your memory.” He gets up from the bed and sits at the desk again, shuffling through his notes. And that was that.

“Fine. Let’s do this.” You pull a chair from the side and sit next to him. “Get ready.”

“For what?”

You smile at him. 

You spend the rest of the night looking through his research, testing Viktor’s new arcane magic, and taking many, many, many naps together. The next morning, you’ll do it all over again. You were going to save Viktor, you were going to help him, and you were going to stay.