The raid on Piltover starts and the tension rises noticeably amongst everybody in the city. Though for you, it’s different.
Summary: You’re stuck in a time loop; One that repeats your day every time you fail to save Steb.
TW!!
Warnings/Content!: TW! Suicide!!! (from the reader), Death, Angst, No happy ending, also ngl there isn’t as much Steb in here as I would’ve liked but eh 🤷
Word Count: 4.1k
Quick mention: rushed and not proofread, ngl i got impatient with this.
───• ° . 𓆟 ° ⋅☼⋅ • . 𓆟 . °───
Pearlescent clouds drag across the horizon, reflecting the new dawn's bronze light brilliantly. From the oceanside to the polished gold atop buildings, the morning landscape would blind you unapologetically; glittering like a beacon of the coast.
You woke up to a morning that– given different circumstances– would’ve been too comfortable for you to leave your bed. It was an eerie calm that settled in the air of your room, unfiltered light beginning their glow between the cracks of your curtains.
A resounding knock at the door snaps you out of your reverie, making you sigh wearily as you receive new orders from the messenger from behind the door. Just great. With an annoyed grunt you get up, parting the cloth just a bit to let out the cool remnants of the twilight, marveling at the russet sky burning to brass. Lighting up the white feathers of birds that soar past, taking the chance to admire the sight of what you have before… well, before what awaits you today.
The Noxian raid against Piltover.
You watched as grand ships sailed towards the jewel of the city. Standing with your back to the hex-gate, hands tightening against the metallic weapon in your hands, ready to defend your home from the foreign invaders.
You unconsciously relax as you catch an aquamarine figure grow in your peripheral. Expression softening slightly as your fingers slide and pull away from the hex-weapon in your grasp, raising an arm to give the blue eyed boy a playful nudge to the side. You turn your head to him, offering a grin, one that only he could manage to draw out at a time like this.
You have half a mind to tell him that, throw out a comment and make him privy to your affections for him. Maybe you will, one day, when this is all over; as for now, you shall stand unwavering by his side.
“Beautiful sunrise this mornin’ hm?” You muse, though your solemn tone betrays your friendly words. “Hey Steb-,” You sigh halfway, giving up on a witty remark and instead choosing something more fitting. You shake your head lightly, dawning a lax smile as you turn to face the foreboding ships that stalk the waters. “Whatever happens, keep yourself safe Steb, got it?”
It was simple– not as personal as you’d like– but hopefully it’ll do the job. He doesn’t seem to mind your choice of textbook reassurance words as he gives you a nod, eye softening as he watches your profile. He quietly decides that he’ll make sure that you keep yourself safe too.
Finally, he resets his posture and stands beside you dutifully. Ready for war.
A baritone war-cry accompanies a hefty silhouette that knocks you down, leaving to you watch in fear as the hulking soldier lifts his spear with the intent to drive it down into you chest– A similar shout is heard from your left as your teal savior drives a dagger between the plating of the Noxians armor, the injury forcing the attacker to stumble and slump to the ground. You huff, catching your breath as you turn your attention to Steb who dashes to your side, careful eyes of a trained medic studying your condition as they look you up and down before eventually looking you in the face with concern.
You return his gaze with a grateful one, “Yeah– yeah ‘m alright,” only half-convinced yourself you try to assure him, shakily chuckling thanks to your nerves, you manage to give him a thankful nod, taking his hand as he helps you up to–
The shout tears from your throat before you can stop it, lurching upward from your place on the ground, gasping for air, eyes wide in shock. instinctively, you raise a hand to drag down your face before pulling away to look at it, expecting to see the same crimson that splattered onto your lap.
You freeze, reeling your hand back and away from its search as you refocus your gaze. Your bed. Your pillow, your room, your… window?
How the hell did you get here? Your brow twitches in thought, instantly you look down and rip the blanket off yourself, searching for injuries. No bandages, bruises, cuts, or any sign of physical harm. You weren't knocked out were you? No, you can remember the last moments clear as day. There’s no fogginess to the way you fell, to Steb as you accepted his help, to the arrow that pierced through his neck.
Your heart is barely given a second to beat, frozen in place as your eyes widen in shock. Steb. he, he–
Your hand slaps over your mouth in shock, tears unknowingly pricking at the corners of your eyes, you hum and force your eyes closed to re-assess. A shaky breath is all that fills the silent room, your thoughts become a raging whirlpool filled with blame and disbelief, making the world inaudible to you as your ears are stuffed with cotton.
The only sound that breaks through is a knock on the door. A triadic rap that sounds vaguely familiar.
You muster just enough of your composure to call out, albeit frustratedly, and glance up with furrowed brows as you half-listen to the tenor voice beyond the heavy door. New orders about your position, moved to the front of the hex-gate. Word-for-word, you remember them from yesterday morning. An awful feeling rushes through from head to toe, shivering at the inkling of déjà vu, your breakdown slightly suspended as the feeling meddles with your judgement.
Sliding out of bed and tiptoeing to the window, you push the curtains aside, a light gasp is drawn out by the staggering ships. Broad and imposing, you grit your teeth at the sight of them, but somethings off.
The city is unsullied by dust, grime, or even a speck of blood.
Regardless, the ships are returning. Your job isn’t done.
You walk by the day in a daze.
Over the first half-hour outside your room you’ve come to the realization that you were terribly mistaken in your perception of time. That this was the morning of the raid, not yesterday– in fact your ‘yesterday’ had to have been some oddly lucid dream that you still have trouble believing. Try as you might, there's a feeling of uncertainty that you can’t seem to shake off, even when you hear light footsteps approaching your flank.
You try to remedy your spastic heart the moment you see him. Chest feeling airy as a heavy weight has been lifted at the realization that your baseless concern was proven wrong: Steb wasn’t dead. It seems as though your brain conjured a sick nightmare as the aquatic man you know and love stands beside you again, alive and well. You find yourself smiling with upturned brows, relief practically seeping through your bones, releasing your taut grip upon your arcane weapon. The glittering cobalt orb that sparks below your fingers could never compare to the ones before you.
You pause as he turns to look at you, his earnest full attention often catching you off guard. Your half-assed cocky comment dies on your tongue as you look at him, rethinking carefully, what should you even say? You could be confident, but that sounds so insincere, if these could be your last words to him you’d rather not say something stupid. Your last words to him…
Oh God… Could you admit your feelings?
To your irrational mind, the dream felt like maybe a second chance, maybe you should take it.
You swallow thickly at the idea, no, of course not. Now would be the worst time to admit something heavy like that, there’s no point in getting him worked up for something that's your problem. You won’t dump that burden upon him now.
“I have something to tell you. So live, alright?” You return his gaze with a determination that swells in your chest, “Survive Steb. I won’t take anything else for an answer.”
Whatever answer you receive in the form of a look or gesture, you don’t pay attention to it. Gaze turned steely at the thought of your foes, refusing to pass up this opportunity to fix your mistakes.
You decided to use your awful case of déjà vu to your advantage, somewhat testing your luck in the process, but as it turns out– it has come in rather handy in regards to a strike here and there. Finding yourself avoiding a few mistakes you’d made in your “dream”, you ought to think about it later on after the battle, though the itching feeling of misfortune never left you.
Your eyes shoot open and in a panic you whip your head to the side, your hands feel empty, frantically grappling for a weapon within reach. Soft bed sheets and plush pillows grace the nerves upon your fingertips, sliding against- Wait, soft? You pause in your scrambling and look down slowly, taking the fabric in your hand as your brain stalls.
That can’t be right, what sick joke of a nightmare is this? You throw the covers off yourself as you stumble haphazardly out of bed, tearing your way to the window and shoving the curtains away as you look down to the streets.
Clean and untouched. The polished white stone and golden inlay remain void of scarlet streaks.
What the fuck is happening.
You walk by in suspicion, haunted by knowledge of the coming events.
You’re beyond anxious, what kind of screwed up dream could that be? To have a dream within a dream and wake up twice, is that even possible? You let out a breathless laugh, mirthless as your chest feels hollow. “What a bad omen” you manage to slip, your muttering catching Stebs attention as he raises a brow at you before returning his attention forward. Your unfocused gaze follows suit, quiet and eerie, you are unable to discern if the ships look closer this time or not.
Everything was the same. Both times– well, three times now– have just been ghosts of the day before.
Is that it? What the hell is the point of the day resetting if you're just doomed to reach the final destination of this nightmare.
That's not right, you held him this time.
The world went black before you could feel the warmth seep from his body, thankfully, but you could feel it this time, unlike the days before. His last breath that ended pained gasps and sputters. You got to watch as the light left his eyes. The thought makes you angrily wipe away a tear, but your gaze hardens to one of determination. It was different, it can change.
You were grasping at straws, but with your predicament, it was worth everything in the world to you.
Not him, please, why of all the people did it have to be the one who captured your heart. The aquatic man with gentle hands and eyes too soft for his sharp features. The kind medic who would’ve preferred to help lives over harming them.
You’ve tried and failed again at following your orders. What good will it do if you can’t stop an army's worth of attacks from killing the one person you care most about in this pretentious city full of high and mighty assholes.
Enough of this running around and expecting everything to go right out of sheer blind luck, you can’t afford to keep getting distracted.
It’s been proven you can change things, now you have to test the limits– without ruining your own image in case it does end up working to break the loop you’re stuck in.
So, time to try something drastic, however stupid and see the outcome.
That little rule of yours didn’t last long, at this point you didn’t give a shit about your “image” anymore. So much for that– how could you even dare to prioritize that over the life of your comrades? Of your friends?
A thump crashes against your back, the wooden door behind you bending back into place after the hit. You wince slightly, remembering where you are now, it’s an increasingly bad habit to space out like this.
“Hey–” you start out evenly before another bang hits the door, forcing you to stumble forward before you push back against it, “Hey! It’s me!” You shout in protest, and you faintly hear the man's feet shuffle again. You could only wonder what thoughts ran through his head as he woke up locked in some random enclosed space– a janitor room to be exact.
“Listen Steb! You- You’re gonna die okay? It’s- no, I gotta keep you safe.”
You stammer for your words, not having found the proper explanation for him if or when he woke up, you did kind of hit him rather hard upside the head. You sigh, letting your head fall back and lightly hitting the door you lean on.
“I’m sorry, I know that–” Another bang smacks at your skull. “I know you won’t understand! But I have to, alright!?” you plead, keep a tight hold on his tonfas that you took and used interlocked on the door to keep it shut.
You fall quiet as the minutes tick away, the dawn inching so slowly to noon. You consider yourself beyond lucky that there weren’t any passerbys, choosing an unassuming room in a scarcely used passage. Stebs' barrage of attempts to break out were eventually stifled, though the sounds of clattering and shuffling of what seemed to be boxes and bags could be heard.
He never knows when to give up, always driven.
The thought, such of little comfort, still brings a small smile to your face. After a moment, you decide to slide down, ignoring how your uniform ruffles unpleasantly at being pressed against the wood as you come to a sit. “Y’know” You start, quiet and muffled to him, but you can imagine his spiny ear flickering. Cute.
You note that the sounds cease for a minute before returning, barely stopping his search for something to use to escape. Oh, yeah– you were saying something? He even stopped to listen. It made your heart lurch at his thoughtfulness in even the worst situations.
“You’re too fucking good of a person Steb.” You say, a sudden anger that bubbles in your gut and overflows into a venom on your tongue. “How dare you. I can’t let you throw away your life like this, I don’t care about your duty or honor or whatever the fuck you chose to be an enforcer for,” You gasp, lungs feeling empty as you pay little attention to your blurring vision, “But I refuse to let you die! To let the world lose something– someone so, so–”
A sharp whistling goes ignored.
In your teary eyed vision, you can’t even begin to make out the concrete that crumbles and gives way to a cannonball.
A strangled shout rips at your vocal cords.
The sound makes your door-knocking harasser call out in concern.
Facing the floor below would remind you of the blood to be spilled, And facing the sky above you bring all your memories to him and his stupid cornflower colored iris. You close your eyes, grunting in annoyance at his dastardly ways of flooding your mind at any time of day. How silly you are, somehow still getting wrapped up in this awful little crush of yours you can’t stand it.
You grumble kicking a stray rock, face scrunched in frustration at your series of continued failed attempts. You felt like such a stupid fool in disobeying direct orders and ending up in no different a situation in the end.
What an idiot blinded by hope, thinking you could change your new fate by such fickle means.
Even now you feel like a coward. Each step taken to create distance between you and piltover's looming presence etched a cavity into your dignity, your honor, for abandoning your friends. The only thought pushing you forward and away from the fight was the hope that something might happen differently, even if you weren’t a part of it.
Would you have to label yourself a traitor for leaving? Most likely, but it was a small price to pay.
You don’t even make it halfway through the city before your sight is suddenly enveloped by darkness.
After so many “days”, you picked up your weapon. The arcane thrumming beneath your grasp and reverberating in your mind, the idea flashed for a moment before being snuffed out the second you realized the implications.
What if you were the one who killed him?
Like being struck, you threw the weapon down, careless to the sound of the valuable machine crashing against the floor. You stumble back and swallow thickly, the guilt immediately making itself known. No. You’d live a thousand times over before resorting to doing the very thing you’re trying to prevent.
Could you try explaining it to him? Again? You had tried to allude to the idea on the fourth morning, in the end you sounded more like a paranoid fool worrying about the day– which was understandable. Though on the seventh morning you brought it up without any thought behind your intentions, muddled words and half-baked assumptions that changed his perception of you; mentioning how you’d managed to survive to see what became of Maddie, it was a mistake to try and explain that to him. Oh how your heart squeezes at the memory of the look he gives you, the disbelief and hurt when you tell him Maddie’s a spy. Accusing his friend, one longer than you have been, of being a traitor? His disappointment hurt you more than you could've ever expected.
Your heart beats erratically at the thought, it’s too unprepared– too hasty of a decision. You doubt you’d get anywhere with the limited time you have to explain, much like last time. Strewn out guesses and trailing off conclusions that didn’t get you anywhere, it more often than not put you and Steb in worse conditions. There was so little you knew, as it seems that whatever curse that’s consumed your waking moment has been hellbent on preventing you learning anything useful about your predicament. With no lead to track or even the chance to follow it if you did have a clue, you were absolutely lost.
You slide your hand out, knocking your helmet off the table unceremoniously in an attempt to ground yourself, clutching the oaken hardwood with stiffened gloves that you can only hope lessen the shake that you hold yourself with.
A pained groan escapes you, screwing your eyes shut as your heart tightens, the burn that flares at your closed lids, warning you of tears. You exhale sharply, almost scoffing at yourself for unraveling, shakily inhaling and holding your breath afterwards. Getting your breathing under control wasn’t difficult, but it took a certain amount of patience to allow your feelings to choke out before stuffing them back into a dark corner.
Your foot madly taps at the resounding flooring, almost losing yourself in the sound before a hollow knock steals your attention. Your head snaps a bit in the direction, pausing for a moment to slowly rise, intending to give the intruder a glare.
Startlingly baby blue eyes.
Wide. Dull. They lack their shine.
Your words catch in your throat, the aching feeling that subsided now threatens to return tenfold. You tear your eyes away from him, not willing to fall into the trance his glimmering gaze causes.
You can’t bear to think of his eyes now. Not now.
Half-lidded, they rest unfocused. His muscles relax as his breath is ripped away by an iron blade.
Your face tightens impossibly, twisting in all the fancy words for hurt.
You shouldn’t have to know what he would look like, like that. If it would save you the sight, you’d avoid his gaze for the rest of your life. Oh how your gut turns with every step he takes, approaching you in a way that makes you ashamed for forcing your head down. Forcing yourself away from him.
He tilts his head slightly as glances down at your helmet on the floor. There’s a silence in the air that grows heavier by the second. Seeing your lack of initiative to speak, he continues his approach to your side, stopping within arms reach.
“Steb.” You acknowledge him, loose and in passing– as if bumping into him in a hallway before continuing on.
The ribbing along his eyes stir, a rather expressive motion in consideration to his otherwise impassive exterior. His ears swivel and flicker, subtle shifts in his face as he determines what could be your issue, his eye flickering between your wavering arms and your stuttering breath. His hand reaches out to rest on your shoulder in a comforting manner, tentative and ready to pull away if needed.
What he doesn’t expect however, is for you to turn and pull him forward, not giving him a second to think as you crash into him. He stumbles back, a grunt escaping his chest as you knock some of the wind out of him. His eyes widen as he looks down at you, keeping your head bowed low and pressing your forehead to his shoulder while his hands hover over your back hesitantly.
“I’m so sorry.” You whispered into the armored shoulder of his navy uniform, feeling the warmth of his hands as they gently came to rest on your back, returning the embrace despite his confusion.
He lets out a hum, curious, and the sound nearly rattles your skeleton with how much pressure you press against him. You sigh shakily into his shoulder as you allow yourself this one moment of peace, clutching onto the back of his uniform like a lifeline. “Can we just,” you muffle into his shoulder, “Can we just stay here, like this, for a while?” You ask, practically pleading, in a quiet voice that makes him hold you impossibly closer.
After given a moment to think, he hums again in a complaisant manner this time as he tilts his head ever so slightly to rest atop yours.
His comfort nearly makes your heart shatter, and you’re not sure if you can stave off the waterworks this time.
Eyes shoot open and there’s a flinch that racks your body, but you stay down this time. You don’t make a move to acknowledge your given orders, remaining quiet enough to hear the faint shouts as the city around you as the people ready to arms. You haven’t slept in days, you realize, and close your eyes with a weary sigh.
Facing the ceiling, you’re tempted to fight the tears that begin to arise but you ultimately allow it to pass. You wonder if his tears would be as pitiful as yours, would he be given the chance to cry at all.
Maybe if he were the one crying in your place.
You stand on the marble balustrade. You’ve stood on this overlook so many times now, and the vertigo has never been worse.
He looks at you. Before you met him, you’d argue that there were only so many ways to describe someone’s eyes. Insist that you could only use the words ‘soft’ or ‘bright’ or whatever obscure color so many times before it all becomes nonsensical. But with this man, you believe even the most illiterate fool could compose a thousand poems with just one glance.
God, please save me from this torment. Save him.
You don’t take the chance to register his reaction. Ever the coward, ever the fool, you shy away from his answer, too afraid and ashamed of your selfishness.
Up to this point, you haven’t tried killing yourself. One of your last resorts.
His eyes get lost among the brilliant sky. The roaring hurricane in your ears grows as you plummet, your gut feels the familiar pull down; accompanied by all the guilt you carry. Finally letting it drop, you go right along with it.
He calls your name, though you cannot hear it, his shout becoming lost throughout the wind whipping past your ears. Your blood is the first to stain the floor that morning.
Your vision is as dark as the night that you hope comes to pass.
───• ° . 𓆟 ° ⋅☼⋅ • . 𓆟 . °───
A/N: Yello! Damn uh! I finally finished something! I struggle to commit to my projects so i'm surprised i managed to get this out, and honestly this only took so long as it did because i spent most my days playing minecraft 😭🙏
It feels like it has too much plot and not enough interactions which is something i have trouble with but practice makes better 🫶
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