A Yearning Sky: Part I
In the amber-lit silence of the Academy lab, Viktor is running out of time. Before the Hexcore can offer its dangerous salvation, there is only the scratching of chalk, the scent of lavender tea, and the quiet brilliance of Sky Young. But as the equations finally click into place, the toll of Viktor's genius becomes impossible to ignore. When Jayce Talis walks in, glowing with the success of a life Viktor will never have, Sky is forced to choose between the truth that could save Viktor and the silence he’s begged her to keep for the sake of the "Great Beyond."
CW: Chronic Illness, Coughing Blood/Hemoptysis, Terminal Illness/Dying, Medical Neglect (Self-Inflicted).
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The laboratory was a sanctuary of amber light and the rhythmic, metallic ticking of a hundred different experiments. For Viktor, it was also a prison of his own failing biology.
He leaned heavily over his desk, the scratch of his pen against parchment the only sound until the soft clink of a ceramic mug announced her arrival.
"You’re vibrating, Viktor," Sky said softly, her voice a gentle anchor in the sea of his racing thoughts. "Or perhaps it’s the table. Either way, the friction is likely to cause a fire."
Viktor looked up, his deep-set eyes blinking as he adjusted to the new light in the room. Sky stood there, her lab coat slightly oversized, clutching a cup of tea she had undoubtedly brewed to his exact, bitter specifications. She was the only person who could navigate the chaotic geography of his workspace without knocking over a single vial.
"The Hexcore is... stubborn," Viktor muttered, his voice raspy. Gods, when was the last time he ate or drank anything? He reached for his cane, but his hand cramped, a sharp reminder of the clock ticking in his veins.
Sky didn't offer pity—she knew he hated that. Instead, she set the tea down and moved to the chalkboard, picking up a piece of chalk. "You’re focusing on the organic transmutation again. You’re trying to force the magic to mimic the cell, rather than inviting the cell to join the magic."
Viktor watched her. He often found himself watching her when he should have been watching the shimmer of Hextech. There was a quiet brilliance in Sky—a grounded, earthy intelligence that balanced his ethereal, often dangerous ambitions.
"Inviting it," Viktor mused, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips. "You make it sound like a social engagement, Sky."
"Science is a conversation, isn't it?" She turned, her expression softening as she saw the sheer exhaustion etched into his features. She stepped closer, crossing the professional boundary that usually sat between them like an invisible wall. "But you can't have a conversation if you’ve forgotten how to breathe."
She reached out, her fingers hesitant before they brushed against his hand—the one resting on the desk. Her skin was warm, a stark contrast to the cold metal and stone that defined his life. Viktor didn't pull away. In fact, he turned his hand over, allowing his fingers to curl slightly around hers.
The air in the lab shifted. The looming threat of the Hexcore, the pressure of Heimerdinger’s expectations, and the shadow of his illness seemed to retreat into the corners.
"I don't have much time for breathing, Sky," he whispered, his gaze dropping to their joined hands.
"Then let me do it for you for a moment," she replied.
Sky leaned in, her movements cautious, giving him every chance to retreat. When he didn't, she pressed a lingering, feather-light kiss to his cheek. It was a gesture of profound tenderness, a promise that she saw the man behind the genius—the man who was worth saving, not just for his mind, but for his soul.
Viktor closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against hers. For the first time in weeks, the frantic hum of the Hexcore in his mind went silent.
"Stay," he breathed. "Just for a few minutes."
Sky squeezed his hand, her heart thumping against her ribs. "I’m not going anywhere, Viktor. Not until the tea is cold and the equations make sense."
The moment was fragile, a rare suspension of the laws of physics that usually governed Viktor’s life. He pulled her closer, his face buried in the crook of her neck. Sky smelled of old parchment and the faint, sweet scent of the dried lavender she kept in her pockets—a scent that felt more like "home" than any place he had lived in the Undercity.
But as he squeezed her, a cold, sharp blade seemed to twist in his lungs.
The warmth of the embrace shattered. Viktor wrenched himself away, his body doubling over as a violent, racking cough tore through him. It was a wet, hollow sound that echoed off the cold stone of the lab. He pressed a handkerchief to his mouth, his knuckles white, his entire frame shuddering with the effort to keep his feet.
"Viktor!" Sky’s voice was a frantic chord. She reached out to steady him, her eyes widening as he pulled the cloth away.
It was stained a brilliant, terrifying crimson.
"Oh, gods," she breathed, her face draining of color. She looked from the blood to his ashen skin. "Viktor, you’re—you’re dying. I have to get Jayce. He can get the Academy physicians, he can—"
She turned to bolt for the heavy lab doors, her footsteps frantic on the tiles.
"Sky! No!"
Viktor lunged, his fingers catching her wrist with a strength born of pure desperation. The jerk of the movement sent a fresh wave of pain through his chest, but he didn't let go. He leaned heavily against the edge of the chalkboard, his breath coming in jagged, wheezing whistles.
"Viktor, let me go!" she pleaded, tears pricking her eyes. "He needs to know. You can’t do this alone."
"He... he can't know," Viktor rasped, his voice a ghost of itself. He shook his head, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. "Not yet."
"Why?" she sobbed. "Because of your pride? Because of Hextech?"
"Because of the work," he countered, his grip on her hand tightening as he pulled her back toward the amber glow of the desk. "Jayce is... he is the face of this future. He is the dreamer. If he sees me like this, the dream stops. He will drop everything to save a man who cannot be saved, and the breakthrough will slip through our fingers."
He looked at the Hexcore, pulsing rhythmically on its pedestal like a cold, violet heart.
"This is the only way, Sky. No distractions. No pity." He looked back at her, his eyes burning with a feverish, haunting intensity. "I need your silence more than I need a doctor. Help me... help me finish this. Please."
Sky looked at his hand—thin, trembling, and stained with his own life’s blood—and then at his face. The romance of the moment had been replaced by a grim, heavy reality. She didn't run. She stood there, her heart breaking in the silence of the lab, and slowly, she placed her other hand over his.
"I'll help you," she whispered, her voice thick with the weight of the secret. "But I won't watch you disappear, Viktor. I won't."
The following hours were a blur of chalk dust and the low, rhythmic scratching of lead on paper. Sky sat perched on a high stool, the heavy silence of the lab only broken by Viktor’s shallow, whistling breath. She watched him constantly over the rim of her glasses, her heart jumping every time he shifted or cleared his throat. She was a sentry guarding a crumbling fortress, her eyes tracking the way his hand shook as he adjusted the alignment of the lenses.
"The resonance is stabilizing," Sky whispered, marking a final variable on the ledger. "But the energy consumption equation is no longer enough to describe the mass-energy conversion here, Viktor. The Hexcore is hungry."
Viktor didn't look up from the core, his face bathed in a sickly violet hue. "It is not hungry, Sky. It is efficient."
The heavy oak doors swung open with a bang that made Sky nearly fall off her stool.
Jayce sauntered in, looking like the literal golden boy of Piltover. His hair was slightly tousled, his collar unbuttoned, and he carried the lingering, expensive scent of Mel Medarda’s perfume and high-end wine. He looked refreshed, vibrant—a cruel mirror to the two exhausted shadows huddled in the dim light.
He stopped, his gaze bouncing between Sky and Viktor. He raised a brow, a slow, knowing smirk spreading across his face. "Late night for the research team? I didn't realize you two were so… dedicated to the overnight shift."
Viktor didn't move, his hand instinctively clenching the blood-stained handkerchief hidden in his pocket. Sky felt her pulse thunder in her neck, terrified that Jayce would see the tremor in Viktor’s frame or the paleness of his lips.
"We were just finalizing the stability matrices," Sky said, her voice a pitch too high. She jumped down and stepped between Jayce and Viktor’s discarded, bloodied cloth.
Jayce didn't seem to notice. He leaned over the desk, squinting at the chalkboard. As his eyes scanned the complex web of equations they had just woven, his smirk faded into a look of genuine, profound awe.
"Viktor… Sky…" Jayce breathed, tracing a line of Sky’s handwriting. "This bypasses the thermal bottleneck entirely. If these calculations are right, we’re not just talking about a power source anymore. We’re talking about an evolution."
He looked at Viktor, clapping a heavy, enthusiastic hand on his shoulder—a gesture that made Viktor wince, though he masked it with a tight nod.
"I knew you were a genius," Jayce laughed, his eyes bright with the thrill of the breakthrough. "But this? This is incredible. You two make quite a team."
He turned to the Hexcore, oblivious to the fact that Sky was watching Viktor’s knees buckle slightly. "We start the trial at dawn. Get some rest, both of you. You look like you've seen a ghost."
Sky looked at Viktor, whose eyes were fixed on the violet glow, his secret still safe, though the cost was written in every line of his tired face.
