Inevitable | j.t
masterlist | help me fund my surgery
paring: ex!jayce talis x gn!reader
summary: you see jayce again for the first time after he cheated, he seems genuinely sorry.
words: 2.9k
warnings: 18+, heavy angst, cheating, this is just pain ngl, alcohol, no pronouns, no y/n
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Maybe if you kept your gaze on the ground then it would be okay. No. That would make you look weak and pathetic, and the last thing you wanted him to see you as was weak and pathetic.
It was Progress Day and your attendance at the assembly was a government issued requirement. That was the only reason you were sat in the uncomfortable metal chair, facing a barren stage with a podium as the singular dressing.
The only thing you'd have to do is sit and listen to Heimerdinger's speech, that would inevitably blow smoke up Jayce's ass, inflate his ever-growing ego and conveniently neglect the hard work Viktor contributed to Hextech, and then you could go back to your life.
The obnoxious fanfare died down and Councillor Kiramman's voice began to sound over the speakers, her gentle British accent easing the crowd into the ceremony's celebrations.
These things usually only lasted five or ten minutes, you could last that long before crawling back into the normality of your own home.
"Please, join me in welcoming to the stage-" her voice sounded and the crowd began to buzz again with excitement. You rolled your eyes cynically, all this over something that happened every year and rarely did they have anything to show for it, “-Jayce Talis!” she proclaimed triumphantly.
Your blood ran cold and your heart sank, the frosty thick liquid running through your veins icing over the organ to increase its weight threefold.
“What?” you found yourself whispering aloud in disbelief, your words lost in the sea of cheers and orchestral accompaniment. It was Heimerdinger that gave the yearly speech, you must have heard her wrong.
But then he emerged from the steps leading to left, his pace slow to begin with, then a hurried jog up to the stage level and a humble smile put him in full view of the whole of Piltover.
A glacial shiver went down your spine. Even though you were a few rows back from the front, you could see the shining lights reflecting pride and accomplishment in his irises. The amber colour as resplendent as his undeserved title of ‘Golden Boy’.
He held out his fist and waved to the crowd passionately as he made his way towards the podium, clipboard in hand. He seemed genuinely happy and it made you want to be sick.
The feeling of nausea bubbled in your stomach and up to your throat, leaving your mouth feeling dry and brittle. Then the nausea was escorted by anger; he wasn’t allowed to be happy, not after what he’d done.
It was bad enough that you’d had to walk through the streets of Piltover with the cartoonish image of his face on every banner and blimp, but to actually see him was unbearable. The people of this city praised him like he was the best thing since sliced bread, and the only thing you could do was watch him drink it all in as if he hadn’t ruined any semblance of contentment you’d been able to find within yourself.
It was doomed from the beginning really. Him; a Piltovian from a respectable family, and you; a Zaunite, who’d earned their way Top-Side through hard work and perseverance. He’d told you that it didn’t matter that you were from the Undercity, that he loved you regardless of your birthright, that you were perfect in every way in his eyes.
And you were stupid enough to believe him.
You’d allowed yourself to settle into the mundane routine of being Jayce’s partner. Watching him work in the lab or in the forge, little coffee dates to cafes you’d never be able to afford but was cheap to the bank of Talis, reading together in silence - you’d even become friends with Viktor.
Loving him came easily to you, like it was a second nature, but receiving it from him was difficult. Not because he didn’t show it, but because you had a hard time believing that someone like Jayce wanted someone like you.
Your gut told you that it was too good to be true, that your perfect little pocket of happiness was built out of paper mache and the smallest drizzle of rain would erode the foundations and melt everything you’d constructed together into nothing but a formless mulch.
It didn’t just drizzle, it was a torrential downpour.
“Uh, good evening!” his voice echoed throughout the hall over the speaker system, and you had to pull on every single thread of willpower you had not to verbally reply with ‘It’s not a good fucking evening, Ja-’. The main motivator being that in doing so would mean saying his name, something you hadn’t been able to do for a while.
He cracked jokes that people laughed at and spoke with the charisma of someone born to rally people together. The gentleness of his voice that you used to love so much now felt like nails on a chalkboard; your mind urged you to stand and walk out of the hall as a way to protect your heart from any further cracks in the already fragile surface, but your legs wouldn’t cooperate.
“No one in my life expected very much of me,” he spoke solemnly. Pausing for a moment and finally giving you the courage to glance at his face instead of the golden embellishments of the blue podium he stood behind, but he was looking back at you.
Mentally, you’d automatically replied to his statement: ‘I did’. His eyebrows were slightly lifted, creasing the skin between them, and his lips remained parted as if he’d picked up on your thoughts and seemingly forgotten his next line.
He blinked a few times and broke eye contact with you to read his notes, and the performance was back on. The peek into that sincerity you’d fallen in love with quickly being sealed by the facade of a perfect man Piltover needed him to be. He stepped in front of the podium and declared promises of a brighter and secure future, letting the audience whistle and applaud him as he exited the same way he’d entered. If only they knew how hollow his promises really were.
You knew something was wrong but chose to ignore the signs that he was growing disinterested. Questions of; “Are we okay?”, quickly turned into, “Do you still want me?”, to which he would always respond with “Yes.”
Lying came to him as easily as a wasp to honey, that was his second nature.
There was something bittersweet about the ignorance of not knowing the betrayal of being replaced. To be so completely unaware that your silhouette was being reshaped to fit the mould of another whilst you still housed it, but to feel every bend of your outline all the same.
You held onto him for as long as you were able. Your grip indenting itself into the part of his soul that you thought belonged to you, only to find that the divots and ridges no longer fit your fingerprints.
In hindsight, the mind games you played with yourself were laughable - you were so desperate to prove your instincts wrong, but Jayce in all his confidence became sloppy and you couldn’t pretend not to see the truth any more.
Not when she was sleeping next to him, her head resting on the pillows enclosed in the cases you’d picked out for him and her hands gripping the blanket you’d left at his apartment the first time you’d stayed the night. The worst thing was his arm draped over her waist, holding onto her like she was the most precious thing in the world, the same way he used to hold you.
“J-Jayce?” your meak voice carried across his bedroom, but he didn’t stir. They both seemed so content together, unaware of the rapid pounding against your ribs and the two tonne stone that had caved in your chest and dragged all your internal organs into your stomach.
A peacefulness that you would never know again.
You flicked the lights on and their eyes immediately squinted at the brightness of it, and you had a front row seat to watching Jayce’s sleepy brain slowly realise exactly what was happening.
First came the stuttering, then the ‘It’s not what it looks like’, then the begging - after his guest had caught on and hurriedly left.
It should’ve pleased you to see him on his knees completely naked and holding onto your pant leg, pleading with you not to leave with tears welling in his waterline, but you were numb.
The only thing you could feel was cold. Every part of you was freezing as if any ounce of warmth you would ever feel again left with the woman who was more desirable to him than your relationship.
The Progress Day celebration was in full swing, fireworks, music and dancing was all around you. The logical side of your brain urged you to leave and go back home, but the two free drink vouchers they’d given you at the door were seemingly more necessary now than when you’d received them.
The two glasses were set down in front of you at the same time, the first one already half empty when you heard the cautious, “Hey,” from behind you.
Even if you hadn’t just heard him speak through an amplified system, your body tensing and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to burst into tears would’ve been the sign you needed to tell you who this was.
You inhaled deeply and grit your teeth before you turned on the bar stool towards him, repeating the phrase ‘The best payback is to move on’ in your head.
He looked almost the same as when you’d met him, if not more muscular and a little bit taller - his genetics had been kind to him and you felt the burn of hatred start its ignition.
You didn’t greet him back, instead you sipped your drink and stared at him emotionlessly.
“How are you? You look well!” he scratched the back of his neck and his vision flicked away from your unwavering gaze for a second as if the intensity of it was too much. Ironic considering he’d just had thousands of eyes on him not too long ago with no issue.
A humourless laugh threatened to leave your throat, but instead you managed to form it into a dry, “Do I?” as you drew your attention to your glass in an attempt to seem uninterested in his presence.
“I mean, you always looked well-” he started with the flattery but your rapidly increasing heart rate was beginning to make your hands tremble, “-What do you want, Ja-” you interrupted his compliment, only to cut yourself short, still unable to say his name.
His left eyebrow twitched, the slit amongst the brown hairs jumping with the movement, he undoubtedly picked up on how his name died on your tongue and you noted how a glimmer of hope in his eyes decayed with it.
“I thought I could buy you a drink, but it seems you’ve already got some,” he chuckled through his explanation, an undertone of nervousness attempting to be hidden by faux confidence.
He must really be spending too much time around people who do nothing but agree with him. Whatever tricks he’d learned to shmooze the brass of Piltover Council wasn’t going to work on you, when he’d shattered your heart he’d also obliterated any illusions he could try and dangle in front of you.
“Why?” you asked him bluntly, your voice was still cold and unfeeling, bringing you a drop of pride. He was taken back by your question, that much was evident from the dumbfounded look on his face. For once, he couldn’t bullshit an answer and get away with it.
He thought for a moment under your scrutinising gaze, “I wanted to talk to you,” he admitted, “Why? I don’t want to talk to you,” you fired back the second he’d finished his own statement.
You could feel your emotions starting to push their way through the hardened exterior you’d somehow managed to fasten to yourself. He shuffled forwards and sat on the barstool next to you, one elbow on the counter and his body facing you, so you twisted back towards the bar.
“Why?” He repeated your question back to you with a scoff as if the answer was obvious, “Because I still care about you,” he said it so casually that he must have been unaware of how every muscle in your chest contracted with pain, “No, we’re not doing this,” a sour smile graced your lips and you laughed with discomfort to push back the temptation to weep.
“Doing what?” The innocence and genuine curiosity in his voice almost had you believing that he had forgotten how he’d crushed your trust into fragments so small that you were still searching for the missing pieces before you could start to glue it back together again.
“This,” you gestured between the two of you and swivelled to hop off of the stool, “Pretending that everything is fine between us,” you elaborated, anticipating another stupid question from him that would delay your departure from this torment.
He stood as you did, unintentionally blocking you from getting off your chair, “Of course I’m not pretending everything is fine,” he put his hands up as if he was offering a surrender, “I know it isn’t fine, I was a dick, but I want to try and make amends.”
You laughed again, this time it was a real laugh. “A dick? That’s putting betraying me lightly,” you mumbled to yourself but his grimace told you that he heard you.
“There is nothing you could do in this life or the next that would make amends for the damage you did,” you spoke to him directly this time, leaning into him and lowering your voice so he really had to concentrate on your words.
You hopped off of the stool and he stepped back, calling your name but giving you the space you needed to leave if you so wished, but a part of you didn’t.
The two of you were so close to each other, you could feel the warmth of his chest against your arm and for a brief second you enjoyed the familiarity of his body heat. Clearly, a small segment of your brain hadn’t fully processed that he wasn’t yours anymore. As if all of this was some very realistic nightmare, and you would wake up in his arms in a world where he hadn’t needed to find fulfilment in someone else.
“Why wasn’t I enough?” The words left your lips before you could register that you were asking him the question that had been on repeat inside your mind since that night.
His lips parted and his eyebrows furrowed the same way they had when he was on stage, but this time you could see what was in his eyes - guilt, regret, and sadness.
“You were enough,” he whispered back to you, “Don’t lie to me,” your eyes focused on that stupid red tie you used to enjoy playing with so much and you felt every muscle in your face tense as you fought back that urge to cry again.
He called your name and reached to touch your arm but you batted it away, “If I was enough then you wouldn’t have needed someone else,” you spoke firmly, leaving him no room to argue with you, but of course, he would still try.
“I was selfish and greedy,” he admitted as if this was the first time he’d been able to confess it to himself, let alone you, “I promise, you were always enough for me, you were- are perfect,” his voice was soft and you wanted to believe him, but his actions were a strict contradiction to his words.
You hadn’t felt the tear leak from your waterline, you’d only realised it had escaped when you felt his finger brush it away and you flinched. He held his hand up again and slowly rested it on the counter, “Sorry, habit,” he mumbled sadly.
“Don’t,” you shook your head and refused to look at his face, “Don’t act like you care now,” your throat wobbled and you held onto every fiber of your being to allow you to speak clearly enough to maintain some of your dignity.
“I do care,” frustration lined his protest, “Believe it or not, but I did love you,” his words felt like a dagger being stabbed into your unprepared flesh and twisted until the area went numb from the pain, “You don’t replace the people you love, I never could’ve done that to you,” you needed to leave, any longer and you would make a complete fool of yourself in front of the most influential people in Piltover.
He huffed, hearing him intake a shaky breath, you finally raised your vision to meet his face - his eyes were glossy and his jaw was tense, “I still love you,” his declaration wobbled with emotion on his tongue.
“No,” you shook your head, “I won't let you lure me into thinking that I meant something to you.” With a trembling hand you wiped away your own tears like you had so many nights before this one.
“Okay,” Jayce said defeatedly, the strong confident man that you’d seen on stage had disappeared completely, “Whatever you want,” he was the one to break eye contact with you this time.
“I want the person I was before I met you back,” you managed to kickstart your legs into walking away from him. For the second time, it felt like your soul was being ripped apart, leaving half of it and the one person you’d adored most in the world in your shadow.