The lab was quiet, save for the steady hum of hextech cores and the distant murmur of the city beyond the tall windows. Normally, Viktoria found solace in this silence, in the rhythmic ticking of gears and the familiar scent of metal and ozone. But tonight, the quiet was suffocating.
She sat curled in the farthest corner of the laboratory, her knees drawn to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around them as if she could hold herself together by force alone. The cold floor pressed against her legs through the thin fabric of her trousers, but she barely noticed. All she could feel was the ache in her chest, the gnawing, insidious weight of something she despised within herself.
Jealousy.
She had no right to feel this way. She knew that. She was a scientist first, always had been. Logic, reason, discovery those were the foundations of her existence. And yet, none of them could protect her from this wretched, human weakness twisting inside her like a rusted knife.
Viktoria had always known that Jayce was admired. That people looked at him and saw something larger than life a hero, a visionary, the golden child of Piltover. But Mel Medarda… she didn’t just admire him. She understood him in a way Viktoria never could. She was elegant, powerful, poised, everything Viktoria was not. A woman who commanded rooms with a glance, who belonged in the world Jayce was stepping into.
And Viktoria? She was the one left in the shadows, the one who reeked of oil and old paper, the one who belonged here in the lab, in the quiet spaces where people like Mel would never linger.
Her fingers dug into the fabric of her sleeves as she squeezed her eyes shut. She hated herself for feeling this. Hated that her hands trembled, that her breath came short and unsteady. Hated that, for the first time in her life, science was not enough to silence the storm in her mind.
Jayce had always been her partner, her friend, her constant. She had never needed to say anything aloud, never needed to name the warmth that bloomed in her chest when he smiled at her, or the way her heartbeat stuttered when he called her brilliant. It had been enough just to be beside him, to build, to create, to change the world together.
But now, he was slipping away into a world she did not belong to. A world of polished halls and whispered politics. A world where Viktoria was just a forgotten name on a research paper while Mel sat beside him, radiant and untouchable.
The realization burned.
She let out a slow, shuddering breath and forced herself to look at her hands. Thin, scarred from too many sleepless nights spent repairing machines that never cared for her in return.
This was who she was. A scientist. A mind before anything else. She had no right to want more.
And yet, as she sat there in the dim glow of their lab, invisible and forgotten, she could not stop the silent war waging inside her.
Because for the first time in her life, Viktoria was afraid.
Afraid that she was losing him.
And even worse afraid that she had never truly had him to begin with.
He should have. It was late, and exhaustion clung to his skin like a second layer, but the thought of being alone in his apartment—surrounded by silence, trapped with nothing but his own thoughts—was unbearable.
He didn’t know how long he’d been walking before he heard her voice.
“You look like hell.”
He stopped, shoulders stiffening slightly as he turned. Caitlyn stood near the edge of the promenade, arms crossed over her chest, watching him with that calm, analytical gaze of hers. She wore her patrol uniform, but there was no urgency in her stance—just quiet concern.
“Didn’t expect to see you here,” Jayce muttered, trying not to sound as drained as he felt.
“Likewise.” She stepped closer, her tone softening. “Couldn’t sleep. Took a walk. Saw you wandering like some half-drowned stray dog and figured something was wrong.”
Jayce gave a humorless huff of laughter. “That obvious, huh?”
“Jayce, you always wear your heart on your sleeve.” Caitlyn tilted her head slightly. “And tonight? It’s written all over your face.”
He didn’t respond. Just looked away, toward the streetlamp flickering at the end of the sidewalk. The silence stretched between them until Caitlyn broke it with a gentler voice.
“You going to see her?”
Jayce hesitated. Then nodded.
Caitlyn studied him for a long moment before speaking again. “Can I say something? You don’t have to listen.”
He gave her a sidelong glance. “Do I ever?”
She smiled faintly. “True. But hear me out anyway.”
Jayce waited.
“I’ve seen people chase forgiveness like it’s something they can earn with enough apologies,” she said. “But it’s not about what you say, Jayce. It’s about what you see . If you want her to hear you, really hear you… then you need to show her that you finally see her . Not just the version of her you were used to.”
Jayce blinked. That one hit deeper than he’d expected.
Caitlyn shrugged. “Sometimes we think we’re fighting to win someone back. But maybe what we really need to do is just show up... and mean it . No speeches. No expectations. Just the truth, raw and ugly.”
Jayce was quiet for a long moment. Then, quietly: “You think it’s too late?”
Caitlyn looked at him, eyes gentler now. “I think if it was too late, you wouldn’t still be walking toward her.”
He nodded, the knot in his chest tightening, but something in him settling too.
Caitlyn stepped back, giving him space. “Go, Jayce. But don’t go to fix things. Go because she matters. And if she doesn’t open the door… don’t force it. Just let her know you were there.”
Jayce swallowed, throat tight. “…Thanks.”
“Anytime.” She offered him a small, knowing smile. “And Jayce? Try not to be an idiot.”
He gave her a faint grin. “No promises.”
Then he turned—and walked.
He ended up in front of Viktoria’s new lab.
His steps had brought him here.
To her.
Or at least, to the door that now separated them.
He hesitated. The rational part of his brain told him to walk away—that he’d already done enough damage, that showing up unannounced after days of silence would only make things worse.
But he couldn’t leave.
Not when the weight in his chest hadn’t lifted. Not when the air still felt wrong without her in it.
So he knocked.
No answer.
Jayce swallowed hard, his hand hovering over the handle. He knew he had no right to go any further—to push into a space she had deliberately built without him.
But just as he was about to turn away, the lock clicked.
Viktoria stood in the doorway, leaning slightly on her cane. Her expression was unreadable, her golden eyes cold and distant—but Jayce didn’t miss the subtle way her shoulders tensed.
She had expected this.
“…What do you want, Jayce?”
He had a thousand things to say. Apologies. Explanations. Pleas he barely understood himself.
No speeches. No expectations. Just the truth, raw and ugly.
“I don’t know.”
A flicker crossed Viktoria’s face—annoyance, maybe, or disappointment. Whatever it was, it vanished before he could catch it.
“Then you shouldn’t be here.”
She moved to close the door.
His hand shot forward—not to stop her, just to slow her down. Just long enough to speak before she shut him out completely.
“I meant what I said that day.” His voice was rough, lower than he intended. “Every word. I…I love you”
Viktoria’s fingers tightened on the door.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then, without saying anything, she stepped aside and let him in.
Jayce stepped inside carefully, like one wrong move might shatter the fragile moment between them.
Viktoria’s new lab was smaller than the one they had shared for seven years. Messier. The workbench was cluttered with schematics, half-finished prototypes, and scattered notes written in her sharp, precise handwriting. It looked like she hadn’t stopped—not for a second. Like she had thrown herself into work with that relentless intensity people only use when they’re trying to bury something.
Something.
Or someone.
She closed the door behind her and walked past him without a word, heading straight for her desk. She didn’t offer him a seat. Didn’t ask why he was there. She simply picked up a set of tools and went back to work, as if his presence was nothing more than a passing nuisance.
Jayce hated it.
He hated the coldness, the distance. He hated how tightly she’d shut him out, how impossible it felt to reach her now.
He cleared his throat. “You’ve been working a lot.”
Viktoria didn’t look up. “I had to.”
The weight behind those words hit harder than he’d expected.
He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “Viktoria—”
“Jayce—.”
Her voice was sharp, cutting off the fragile attempt at conversation before it even began.
Jayce clenched his jaw. He’d expected this. Her anger. Her resistance. But he hadn’t come this far just to walk away without saying what needed to be said.
“I meant what I said that night,” he pushed on. “I didn’t say it out of frustration, or because I was scared of change. I meant it.”
Viktoria let out a bitter, silent laugh. “You keep saying that like it changes anything.”
“It does.”
“No, Jayce.” She finally looked at him—and for the first time since their fight, he saw it all: the exhaustion, the anger, the pain buried just beneath the surface. “It doesn’t.”
His fists curled at his sides. “Why? Why won’t you believe me?”
“Because it doesn’t matter.”
Those words stopped him cold.
Viktoria sighed, setting down the tools with a soft clink. “You say you love me. Fine. Maybe you even believe it. But what difference does it make if you only figured it out when you were already losing me?”
Jayce opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him the chance to answer.
“You never really saw me before. Not really . I was just... there. The person building things beside you. The one who could keep up, challenge you, understand you.” Her fingers tightened around the edge of the desk. “But I wasn’t someone you thought about outside of work. I wasn’t someone you chose. You never would’ve chosen me.”
Her words stung. Not just because they were accusations—because they were true.
And against the truth, Jayce had no defense.
But that was only half the truth.
He took a slow, strained breath. “You really think I never saw you?”
Viktoria’s gaze didn’t waver. “You didn’t.”
Jayce took a step forward. “From the very beginning, all I’ve done is admire you.” He paused, the words heavy in his chest. “I was in awe of you, Viktoria. Every damn day.”
“Maybe this didn’t start as love,” he said, voice low, eyes locked on hers. “But everything I’ve ever felt for you—it’s always been strong. Real. Whether it was for your brilliance, admiration for your mind, or gratitude for every year we spent building something side by side... it was always something powerful.”
He swallowed hard. “And over time, it became love. But that doesn’t mean it was any less before. It just... changed names.”
A long, heavy silence neither of them knew how to fill.
Viktoria turned away first.
“Go home, Jayce.”
He should have.
But he didn’t.
She stood still, waiting for the sound of his footsteps retreating, the click of the door behind him. But it never came.
Instead, Jayce stepped closer. Then again. Until he was near enough to see the slight tremble in her fingers gripping the desk. Close enough that when he spoke, his voice trembled with something raw, almost hesitant.
“You were the first person who ever believed in me.”
Viktoria didn’t reply. But she didn’t tell him to stop either.
Jayce swallowed hard, a tight pressure in his chest. “I was just a stubborn idiot with big ideas and no sense of when to quit. Everyone else thought I was wasting my time. Wasting their time. But you—” He exhaled, shaking his head. “You looked at me like I was right. Like I wasn’t just chasing a dream, but building something real.”
His voice dropped, rough and exposed. “Do you remember the first time we worked together?”
Viktoria didn’t move, but he saw her shoulders relax just slightly.
“The prototype was a disaster,” he went on, a faint laugh escaping. “Overheated, caught fire, almost blew up the whole lab—”
Viktoria let out a soft scoff. “You’re the one who assembled the prototype.”
Jayce smiled, just barely. “And somehow, you still decided to keep working with me after that.”
The silence between them was still heavy—but no longer sharp.
Jayce ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. “You’re right. I wasn’t the one who chose you, Viktoria. You chose me.” His voice dropped, laced with regret. “And I was too blind to see it… until it was too late.”
She turned, just slightly. Just enough for him to catch a flicker in her eyes—something like hesitation.
Jayce held her gaze and took the final step to close the distance between them.
“I left the Council.”
Those words snapped her attention back. Viktoria blinked, her mouth parting just a little.
“What?”
“Screw them.” His voice was solid. “I’m done playing politics. I’m done being their weapon. None of this means anything— not without you.”
Her grip on the desk loosened.
For the first time since their fight, the icy walls she’d built around herself cracked, if only slightly. And Jayce saw it—that part of her that wanted to believe him. That part that had always wanted to believe in them .
But she wasn’t ready to say it. Not yet.
So she did what she always did when she didn’t know how to face something.
She went back to work.
Jayce watched her in silence. Waiting. And then…
He wasn’t even sure what made him do it.
Maybe it was exhaustion. Maybe it was that unbearable silence that had crept between them, thick and suffocating. Or maybe—maybe he just missed her.
Without thinking, he leaned forward and let his chin rest gently on her shoulder.
Viktoria tensed instantly.
For a second, neither of them moved. Jayce felt her breath hitch, her shoulders stiffen beneath him. He expected her to shove him away—to tell him to stop, to leave.
She didn’t.
So he stayed.
“Jayce.” Her voice was softer than he expected.
“Hm?” he murmured, not moving.
She hesitated. “What are you doing?”
Jayce sighed, his breath warm against the fabric of her shirt. “I don’t know.”
Viktoria let out a small huff, but there was no bite to it. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Probably.”
A beat of silence. Then—
“…You’re heavy.”
Jayce smiled. “Sounds like a you problem.”
She scoffed under her breath, but still didn’t push him away. And for Jayce, that was already a win.
His voice turned gentle. “I missed you.”
Viktoria froze again. This time, for longer.
“…I don’t belong here.” Her voice dropped so low it was almost a whisper.
Jayce frowned. He lifted his head just enough to see her face, but didn’t pull away. Her hands were clenched into fists at her sides. Her gaze—usually cold, composed—looked… fragile.
“That’s not true.” His voice was steady.
She looked away. “It is. And you know it.”
Jayce exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re wrong.”
She let out a humorless laugh. “Really?”
“Yes.”
He didn’t give her the chance to argue. He took her hands, hesitating just a moment before lacing his fingers with hers. They were cold against his palms. He held them gently, grounding her.
“You’re brilliant,” he said. “Stubborn, infuriating, and you scare the hell out of everyone around you—but you do belong here.”
Viktoria swallowed hard, but still wouldn’t meet his eyes.
Jayce took a breath. Then, more softly, more gently— “You’re perfect.”
Viktoria’s head snapped up. “Don’t—”
“I mean it.”
Her lips parted, but no sound came out.
Jayce looked at her, unwavering. “You are, Vika. With or without me. With or without anyone. You’ve always been.”
For the first time since the start of that argument—since everything began—Viktoria looked like she didn’t know what to say.
So instead of speaking, she did the only thing she could.
She chose to believe him.
Even if just a little.
Her fingers trembled in his, but she didn’t pull away. Jayce could still feel the tension in her shoulders, the way her mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything. He knew her well enough to read it—the hesitation, the walls still half-raised, the silent war inside her against the part that wanted to trust.
Jayce had always been impulsive. He made decisions on instinct, dove into things without a second thought. But this time— she —was the one thing he’d never wanted to risk losing.
And yet, he was about to risk it anyway.
He lifted a hand, gently brushing his fingers along her chin, tipping her face upward. He felt her breath catch, the way she teetered on the edge of something unknown.
“Vika,” he murmured.
She swallowed hard. “What are you—”
Jayce kissed her.
At first, it was slow, careful—like he was giving her space to pull back. But she didn’t. When her breath hitched and her fingers clutched the fabric of his coat, Jayce deepened the kiss. His hands framed her face, tilting hers with reverence.
And for a moment, Viktoria let herself fall.
She melted into him—just slightly—just enough for Jayce to feel it. The way she responded to his warmth, the way her breath hesitated against his mouth.
It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like something enormous.
When Jayce pulled back, Viktoria’s face was flushed.
A shade of crimson he’d never seen on her before, coloring her ears, trailing down her neck. And then, to his complete and utter joy—she pouted.
Not angrily. Not annoyed. But in the most adorably sulky way.
Jayce stared at her. Then, utterly overwhelmed, let out a soft laugh.
“You’re adorable,” he blurted out.
Viktoria’s eyes snapped to him, scandalized. “Don’t be ridiculous now.”
“But it’s true.”
Her scowl deepened, which only made his grin grow wider.
He exhaled slowly, and the amusement softened into something more honest. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. For hurting you. For being a damn idiot.”
Viktoria didn’t say anything.
Jayce took her hands again, clasping them tightly in his. “I’d do anything for you,” he admitted. “Anything. Just tell me what you want, Vika, and I’ll do it.”
She bit her lip, her gaze unreadable.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Then, finally—
“…I don’t want you to lie to me,” she whispered.
Jayce’s heart clenched. “I never will.”
She held his gaze, searching his face for something. A crack. A lie. A reason to push him away again.
But she found nothing.
Just him.
Just the man who, without even realizing it, had fallen so deeply into her orbit that he couldn’t ever leave.
Viktoria didn’t smile. Not fully.
But something in her eyes shifted—like a lock being turned, a door creaking open after years of rust. She didn’t move away. Didn’t let go.
Jayce didn’t need anything more than that.
He squeezed her hands once, gently, grounding her in the moment. In him. The cold around them didn’t matter, the night didn’t matter—only her fingers in his, only the faint tremble of someone who was scared to hope again.
But hope she did.
Even if just a little.
“What a beautiful useless thing this is” she whispered.
Jayce leaned his forehead against hers, voice barely more than breath. “We’ll be okay.”
She didn’t answer.
Not with words.
But she closed her eyes. Let him stay close. Let herself lean just enough to be held.
And for the first time in a long time—maybe ever—neither of them felt alone.
Not in that quiet.
Not in that fragile, beautiful stillness between heartbeats.
Not anymore.
I got the idea and inspiration for this fic a long time ago thanks to a fanart I saw—but unfortunately, I lost track of it not long after. Today, I finally managed to find it again and track down the artist's account!! If you’re curious about how I picture Viktoria, here’s the link to the post! Please show the artist lots of love—they’re the reason this fic exists!
Viktoria's fanart by Rikku
Link to AO3 for this story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64607005/chapters/166026910
The summons came early in the morning—a formal request from Professor Heimerdinger himself, asking for a joint meeting with both Jayce and Viktoria. It wasn’t unexpected; with the recent advancements and erratic energy readings from their last experiment, it was only a matter of time before the Council caught wind and demanded explanations.
Still, Jayce felt his stomach twist as he stood outside the polished wooden doors of Heimerdinger’s study.
Not because of the Council.
Because she was already there.
Viktoria stood a few feet away, dressed in her usual work attire, her cane resting lightly in her hand. She didn’t look at him, didn’t even acknowledge his presence beyond the briefest flick of her eyes when he’d arrived. Her face was unreadable—perfectly composed, as always—but her body language was a fortress. Closed off. Distant.
Jayce tries to speak. But what could he even say?
Before the silence stretched too far, the doors opened with a soft creak and Heimerdinger gestured them inside.
“Ah, wonderful. Please, come in, come in.”
The professor’s office smelled faintly of ink, old books, and a hint of something floral—perhaps tea. His desk was covered in blueprints and schematics, some of them stamped with both their signatures. Their names. Together. Jayce couldn’t look at them without feeling something sharp twist in his chest.
Heimerdinger climbed up into his chair with a soft grunt, caressing his mustache as he peered at them. “I’ve been reviewing the last reports from your hex-energy stabilization tests,” he began, tapping one stubby finger on the blueprints. “The energy discharge rates are concerning. They’ve become… inconsistent. Unstable.”
Jayce leaned forward instinctively. “I’ve been meaning to—”
But before he could finish, Viktoria cut in smoothly, her voice steady. “We’ve already isolated the variables. The instability likely stems from the harmonic flux chamber—an alignment error during recalibration. I’ll personally oversee the adjustments.”
Jayce glanced at her, caught off guard. That was his task. At least, it had been.
Heimerdinger hummed thoughtfully, then looked between them, his brows narrowing ever so slightly. “I see. And you’ll be working together on this?”
A loaded question, buried under layers of polite inquiry.
Jayce opened his mouth, but again, Viktoria was quicker. “Of course, Professor. We’ll resolve it promptly.”
Her tone was professional. Crisp. Almost too much so.
Jayce felt the shift in the room. The careful distance between them wasn’t just emotional—it was physical. They stood apart like two strangers forced into proximity, not like the collaborative force they had once been. And Heimerdinger, brilliant as ever, noticed.
His eyes narrowed just a fraction.
“Is everything all right between the two of you?”
This time, the silence felt deafening. Jayce struggled to find the words, to speak through the tightness in his throat—
But Viktoria smiled. That same polished, perfect smile she wore in front of the Council.
“Everything is fine. We’re fully committed to the work, as always.”
Jayce saw the flicker in her eyes. That tiny tremor in her voice that only someone who knew her would catch. But Heimerdinger seemed satisfied enough, nodding as he scribbled something in his notes.
“Very well, then,” he said, setting the pen down. “I trust you’ll keep me informed. Hextech’s future depends on your expertise—and your cooperation.”
As they were dismissed, Viktoria turned without a word, already halfway down the corridor before Jayce even managed to take a step.
He started to follow her, but before he could move, Heimerdinger's voice called out behind him.
"One moment, my boy."
Jayce halted, his eyes still fixed on Viktoria’s back as she disappeared beyond the heavy doors. He didn’t want to look away.
“Yes, Professor?”
Heimerdinger folded his hands on the desk. “I’ve heard some... whispers, my boy. Something about a discussion you had regarding your position on the Council.”
Jayce clenched his jaw. Damn Salo, he thought bitterly. Still, he had no intention of walking back on what he’d said.
“I understand, sir.”
Heimerdinger furrowed his bushy brows. “I trust, dear boy, that you’ve considered the consequences of your words. Especially given their potential impact on your work. Both of your work.”
“Of course, Professor. It’s just... sometimes you have to let things go to move forward. I imagine you understand that.”
For a second, Heimerdinger’s expression darkened, the weight of years flashing behind his eyes. Then he sighed, resigned.
“More than you can possibly imagine.” He looked Jayce squarely in the eye. “Very well. You may go.”
The door clicked shut behind him, and Jayce broke into a run.
If he hurried, maybe he could still catch up to her. Maybe he could talk to her— or just see her, even if only for a few more seconds.
He missed her. Desperately. More than he ever thought possible.
He rounded the corner—and there she was.
He smiled, the smallest flicker of relief warming his chest—until it froze mid-beat.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.
Dorian.
That smug bastard. How the hell did he always pop up at the worst possible moment?
There he was again, right next to Viktoria, arms extended, offering to carry her papers like some eager little assistant.
Viktoria shook her head, clearly irritated. To anyone else, she probably looked calm, her usual neutral self—but Jayce saw it.
The faint line between her brows.
The way her shoulders tilted ever so slightly away.
The narrowed eyes.
The distance in her stance.
And yet that asshole still wouldn’t back off.
Jayce moved before his brain had time to intervene. Story of his goddamn life.
He stepped in between them, abruptly enough that Viktoria had to take a step back.
“She doesn’t need your help,” Jayce snapped, voice low and firm.
Dorian blinked in surprise, clearly caught off guard—just for a moment—before straightening his posture and fixing Jayce with a sharp, defiant stare.
The little shit actually had the nerve to challenge him.
Dorian narrowed his eyes “If she's fine without help…then maybe you should take your own advice and back off.”
Jayce felt a vein in his temple throb—he was this close to exploding. But before he could even suck in a breath, something struck his shin with pinpoint precision and enough force to make stars dance behind his eyes. Dorian yelped too—clearly hit just as hard.
Both men hissed in pain, doubling over. Viktoria stood between them, her cane in hand like it was a finely forged weapon.
"I hope you both realize just how utterly pathetic and embarrassing this is," she said coldly. "But please, by all means—don’t let me interrupt."
If they'd been piles of garbage on the side of the road, she might’ve looked at them with more respect than the disgust currently on her face. She adjusted the strap of her papers, already preparing to walk off in the opposite direction.
Still wincing from the pain, Jayce straightened up and, with a small spark of petty satisfaction, stepped ahead—slamming his shoulder hard into Dorian’s as he passed. The other man staggered slightly, clicking his tongue in irritation.
But Jayce had already forgotten him.
“Vika—” he caught himself. “Viktoria, wait.”
She stopped. Slowly, she turned her head, her face unreadable, expression flat.
Jayce took a cautious step forward, the polished stone floor echoing beneath his boots. “Can we talk? Just for a second?”
Her brow arched slightly. “We just did. Heimerdinger’s request was clear.”
“What? No—”
“I’ll send the recalibration results later tonight,” she cut in. “The issue’s with the secondary node voltages. If we reroute the energy loop through the internal capacitor, it should stabilize.”
He flinched. That tone—clinical, cold, efficient. It was worse than if she’d yelled. Worse than silence.
“This is how we work now?” he asked, clinging to the last thread of something real. “Separate labs. Cold updates passed like strangers. It’s not the same without you.”
A beat passed. Then, with a sigh, she leaned back against the wall beside him, resting her weight on her good leg. “Fine. Talk.”
Jayce hesitated, struggling for the right words—then gave up and went with the only ones that mattered.
“I just… I just want—” He stopped mid-sentence.
Something was off.
She looked pale. Paler than usual. Her lips were pulled into a tight grimace, and she kept shifting her weight from one foot to the other like standing hurt. His mind switched gears in a flash—problem, analysis, solution. Just like in the lab.
His eyes scanned her from head to toe. “What’s wrong?”
Viktoria frowned. “It’s nothing.”
Again, she tried to lean into her braced leg with the help of her cane, but the second she did, she shifted the weight back just as fast. It was a small movement—barely noticeable—but Jayce caught it.
He dropped to one knee, reaching gently toward her brace. “Is it the brace? Is it hurting you?”
She turned her head away, hesitating. “It’s fine. Really. No need.”
Jayce glanced around. No chairs. The closest thing resembling a seat was the deep window ledge nearby. He pointed to it. “Sit. Come on.”
“Jayce…”
“Please,” he said softly. “Let me at least do the one thing I’m still good at.”
She exhaled sharply, shaking her head, but relented and moved—slowly—toward the ledge. “Modesty’s never suited you, Jayce.”
He smirked. “Coming from you, I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She sat with effort, letting out a soft gasp when her leg bent more than expected.
“And subtlety clearly never suited you either,” she muttered.
“Still as stubborn as ever,” he chuckled, dropping back to his knee in front of her. He couldn’t help the small grin tugging at his lips. Gods, he’d missed this. Their back-and-forth had always been his comfort—his constant. Had it always felt like this? Stay focused, Talis .
He gently lifted her leg by the ankle, inspecting the brace. His hands moved carefully, familiar with every strap, every tiny mechanism, every gear.
Viktoria watched him silently.
Finally, Jayce exhaled. “Yeah… this thing definitely needs a recalibration.” He reached into one of his bulky side pouches. “I should have… ah—got it.” With a satisfied grin, he pulled out a screwdriver and immediately got to work.
He knew this brace like the back of his hand—he had designed and built it specifically for her, customized down to the finest detail. Since then, he’d always been the one to maintain it. Or at least… he used to be.
The thought darkened his expression. Without looking up from the screws he was tightening, he asked, “How long has it been giving you trouble?”
Viktoria hesitated. Just for a second.
“Since the gala,” she said quickly.
Jayce’s head snapped up like a spring. His eyes widened, mouth parting.
“What?” His voice came out sharper than he intended. “You always do this—you keep everything in. If you’d just told me, if I’d known, I—”
“I didn’t want you to know,” Viktoria cut in, her tone steady, unflinching. “And you weren’t there when it started to hurt. I had to rely on myself. I always have.”
“You didn’t deserve to suffer.”
“And you didn’t do it on purpose,” she said, flat, still refusing to look at him. “So I guess we’re even.”
Her jaw clenched. She looked away and let out a long, shaky breath, like she was trying to hold something together that kept falling apart.
Jayce stood up, his work with the brace was done.
What they were talking about—and what they weren’t —blurred at the edges until even he couldn’t tell which pain they meant anymore. “I’m… sorry.”
Silence stretched for a beat too long.
Then, finally, Viktoria looked at him. Her voice had softened, but the edge of restraint was still there. “You don’t need to keep apologizing,” she said. “You didn’t betray me, Jayce. You just… didn’t see me. That’s different.”
Jayce’s expression twisted, torn between frustration and regret. “But if you’d let me in—if you’d just said something—I could’ve done something. You shut me out, Viktoria. You always do. You carry everything alone until it breaks you.”
That hit something.
Viktoria looked down, fingers tightening on the edge of the papers in her hand. “I didn’t want to shut you out,” she said, barely above a whisper. “But once I understood… once I saw what was happening between us, I knew the only thing I could still do was protect myself. And protect the one thing that still mattered.”
Her eyes lifted, locking with his.
“Hextech. It was the only thing left that felt real.”
Viktoria stood up and glanced down at the brace. Her voice was softer now, quieter.
“Thank you… for this,” she said,. “You didn’t have to.”
Jayce shook his head slowly. “Of course I did.”
A ghost of a smile flickered across her lips, but it didn’t last.
“Maybe it was always meant to go like this,” she added after a beat, her eyes not meeting his. “Maybe we were just…meant to destroy each other.”
Jayce didn’t answer. He didn’t know how to.
She turned then, walking down the hallway with the papers in hand, her steps measured, deliberate. Each one echoed too loudly in the sterile quiet.
He stood frozen, watching her go. Something inside him twisted painfully.
He could build machines, bridges, weapons that defied gravity—but not this. Not her. Not the way she had stood in front of him and said those words like they were nothing… and everything.
Jayce lowered his gaze to the screwdriver still in his hand. He gripped it tighter.
"You didn’t see me."
She was right. Maybe he had never really seen her for who she was—only for what she represented beside him: a brilliant mind, the perfect partner at work.
But she was more than that.
And now… now that he finally understood it, it might already be too late.
A faint sound made him turn.
Viktoria had stopped at the end of the hallway.
She didn’t look back. Didn’t say a word.
But she stood there—just a second too long.
And that second… it shattered him.
Because it meant that some part of her, buried deep down, might’ve wanted to stay.
Then she walked away for real, swallowed by the shadows. Jayce stayed there a little longer, alone, the screwdriver still between his fingers and the bitter taste of everything he hadn’t said lingering on his tongue.
I got the idea and inspiration for this fic a long time ago thanks to a fanart I saw—but unfortunately, I lost track of it not long after. Today, I finally managed to find it again and track down the artist's account!! If you’re curious about how I picture Viktoria, here’s the link to the post! Please show the artist lots of love—they’re the reason this fic exists!
Viktoria's fanart by Rikku
Link to AO3 for this story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64607005/chapters/166026910
It had been days since their fight.
Days since Viktoria had gathered her things and moved into another room, shutting him out completely.
Jayce hadn’t set foot in the lab since.
He just… couldn’t.
Every time he reached the door, something inside him locked up. His fingers would hover over the handle, his breath shaky—but he never crossed the threshold. The silence beyond that door was deafening. Her absence, far too sharp.
So instead, he wandered.
Through corridors, past unfamiliar offices, down hallways he’d rarely had reason to walk before. He drifted like a ghost, hoping—expecting—to turn a corner and see her. To catch a flash of her brown hair, to hear the sharp tap of her cane on the floor.
But it never happened.
She was gone.
Not forever, he told himself. Not forever.
But the lab without Viktoria… wasn’t their lab anymore. It was just a room. An empty, lifeless space full of echoes of something that no longer existed.
And Jayce—
Jayce was starting to feel like maybe he didn’t exist either.
He had no idea how long he’d been wandering when he ran into Mel.
Pure chance—or maybe just bad luck. They hadn’t spoken since the gala, and Mel had made sure of it.
If there had been distance between them before, now it felt like a canyon.
But the truth was, neither of them seemed particularly torn up about it.
If at all.
Maybe that was how it was supposed to be. How it was supposed to end between them. By mutual agreement, discreetly. Just as it had begun.
She was standing near one of the Council chambers, talking to an assistant. But as soon as her gaze landed on him, she dismissed the aide with a flick of her fingers.
“Jayce,” she greeted him with her usual poise.
Jayce gave her a small nod in return, and Mel moved on, trailed by other aides listing off her next appointments.
He barely had time to exhale in relief before, seemingly out of nowhere, Salo appeared in front of him.
The last thing Jayce needed was Salo’s stiff, smug face.
Unfortunately, the Councilor seemed to be in a talkative mood.
“I heard about your little… disagreement with Viktoria.”
The tone was casual, but the chill in his eyes betrayed a sharper curiosity.
“You should know people talk. The Council doesn’t like instability. Conflicts like that can cast shadows on your work. On your reputation.”
Jayce clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep a neutral expression.
Salo sighed, like he was being incredibly generous.
“Honestly, Talis, if she’s becoming a burden, it’s best to let her go. You wouldn’t keep an infected limb, would you?”
He tilted his head.
“So why cling to a useless appendage?”
Something snapped inside Jayce.
His vision blurred with rage, his pulse thundering in his ears.
“Say that again,” he growled, his voice dangerously low.
Salo raised an eyebrow, unfazed.
“I’m saying you need to do what’s best for you. Viktoria—”
“—is not an appendage,” Jayce cut him off sharply, stepping forward.
His whole body was tense, fists clenched at his sides.
“She is Hextech. We are Hextech. Without her, without us, your precious Council wouldn’t have anything.”
Salo gave a dry, dismissive laugh.
“Maybe. But power is fleeting, Talis. If you can’t control it, someone else will.”
Jayce let out a bitter laugh.
“Then go ahead. Keep my seat,” he said, shaking his head.
“I don’t want it anymore. Keep your politics, your power games—I don’t give a damn.”
Salo’s expression faltered. Just for a second.
Something unreadable flickered in his eyes.
Jayce exhaled hard, glaring at him.
“But if you ever think about using our work again—if you so much as breathe near Hextech—you better remember exactly who needs who.”
Then he turned and walked away, leaving Salo standing there.
Something shifted inside Jayce.
Something sharp.
Something certain.
This wasn’t over.
Not yet.
I got the idea and inspiration for this fic a long time ago thanks to a fanart I saw—but unfortunately, I lost track of it not long after. Today, I finally managed to find it again and track down the artist's account!! If you’re curious about how I picture Viktoria, here’s the link to the post! Please show the artist lots of love—they’re the reason this fic exists!
Viktoria's fanart by Rikku
Link to AO3 for this story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64607005/chapters/166026910
The days went by, and on the surface, nothing had changed.
The lab was the same. The hum of the machines, the scent of chemicals, the quiet clinking of tools—everything was just as it had always been. Viktoria worked with her usual focus, hands steady, voice composed whenever she spoke. And Jayce… Jayce played his part.
He kept telling himself that everything was normal. That the silence between them was the same comfortable silence it had always been. That she wasn’t really avoiding looking at him. That the tightness in his chest would ease if he just kept acting like he always did.
But it didn’t.
That weight stayed, crushing him every time he caught a glimpse of her from across the room. Every time he remembered the way she had walked away. The sound of her voice when she had told him no .
The feeling that he had finally— finally —understood what Viktoria had let go of, what she had freed herself from before he even had the chance to hold onto it.
He had to fix it.
So when they were alone in the lab at dusk, he finally found the courage to speak.
“I’m sorry.”
Viktoria didn’t look up from her work. “For what?”
“For how I handled things.” He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to be honest. “For not realizing it sooner. I know I’ve been…” he hesitated, “…distant. I let the Council consume all of my time. I wasn’t here the way I should’ve been.”
She let out a short sound, still focused on the components in front of her. “And now you want to be?”
“Yes.”
She paused. Then, calmly, she set down the tool in her hand. “Why?”
Jayce frowned. “Because this matters. You matter. I don’t want to lose you.”
Silence.
Then Viktoria turned to him, and this time, there was no unreadable distance in her eyes. No cold composure.
There was anger.
“Do you even realize what you’re saying?” Her voice was sharp, cutting through the air like a blade.
Jayce blinked. “I—”
“You’re a hypocrite.” She shoved her chair back and stood, facing him fully, forgetting even her cane in the heat of it. “You act like it’s some sudden epiphany—like you just now remembered how much this lab means to you, how much I mean to you. But that’s not the real issue, is it?”
He opened his mouth, but she didn’t give him the chance.
“It’s not about the work. It’s not about us as a team. You’re acting like a child whose toy was taken away—a toy you never paid attention to until someone else picked it up.”
His chest tightened. “That’s not—”
“I’m not your toy, Jayce.” Her voice was razor-sharp, full of something that twisted his gut. “I don’t belong to you. You don’t get to treat me like I’m yours just to feed your ego and your ridiculous jealousy.”
“I never thought that.” His voice came out rough, defensive.
She laughed, but there was no joy in it. “Then why are you saying all this now ? Why were you trying to hide it even from yourself with such pathetic lies? Why did you have to lose me to realize you cared?”
The words hit him hard, knocking the breath from his lungs.
He had no answer.
Because she was right. Gods, he’d been so damn stupid. And such a coward. It was incredible how crystal clear everything felt now.
She looked at him for a long moment, then let out a quiet breath and shook her head. “It’s too late, Jayce.”
He swallowed hard. “Vika—”
“No.” The word was soft, but resolute. “You don’t get to rewrite this story just because you don’t like the ending.”
And with that, she turned back to the workbench—shoulders stiff, jaw tight. She limped a step forward and grabbed her cane, clutching it with both hands.
Jayce stayed frozen, the weight in his chest heavier than before. Because now, it had a name. Regret? Yeah, maybe.
His heart pounded in his ears. The lump in his throat, the pressure in his chest—he couldn’t take it anymore.
“I never saw you like that, like a toy ” he blurted out, spitting the word like it disgusted him. His voice was rough, broken. “Not even for a second.”
Viktoria let out a harsh, disbelieving breath. “I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anymore.”
A strange, horrible panic crept over Jayce, iced his blood and locked up his limbs. He was losing her. Really losing her—the one person who had ever truly understood him, who helped him shape what once was just a wild, impossible dream. “Vika, please—”
“Don’t call me that. You don’t get to call me that anymore.”
That hit harder than anything else. A blade straight through the chest. Viktoria had never let anyone call her anything other than her full name. That nickname— Vika —had been his. Their secret. A small window into her guarded heart, open only for him.
Jayce opened his arms, as if to show her all of himself. “Everything I am, Viktoria… it’s because of you. There was never a moment I believed otherwise.”
The raw pain in his eyes must have been obvious, because for just a moment—just one—Viktoria faltered.
She looked down, biting her lip. “I hate this.” Her eyes burned as she stepped forward, and the anger in her face faded, replaced by something much worse—cold, detached indifference. “Hextech is our priority, our work, our creation, and it always will be. But as for us —”
Jayce cut her off, unable to bear it. “You don’t want to be my partner anymore?”
Viktoria blinked rapidly, and the words that fell from her lips sounded foreign even to her, but she forced them out anyway. “We’ll share our progress. We’ll be associates. Colleagues. Nothing more. It’s the same.”
He scoffed, associates. As if having their names written side by side on the same projects was the peak of what their collaboration could ever be—as if something like that could ever be enough. “It’s not the same.”
She gripped her cane so tightly her knuckles turned white. “Yes, it is.”
“It’s not, Viktoria!” His voice cracked under the strain.
“Why not?”
He held his breath. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
And then—before he could stop himself, before he could even think—
“Because I love you!”
The words burst out of him, raw and desperate, tearing through the space between them.
Silence crashed over the lab like a wave.
Viktoria’s expression broke—shock, disbelief, and something else he couldn’t read. Then, without hesitation, she slapped him.
Hard.
Jayce’s head whipped to the side, his skin stinging from where her hand had landed.
“Don’t you dare .” Her voice trembled with rage. “Don’t you dare say that to me now.”
His jaw clenched. He turned back toward her, breathing ragged, but unwilling to take it back. “It’s the truth.”
“No, it’s convenient.” Her hands curled into fists. “You think you can say those words and erase everything? That some desperate confession fixes it all?” She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “Gods, you really don’t get it.”
He swallowed hard. “Then make me get it.”
She exhaled sharply, staring at him like he was a puzzle too exhausting to solve. “You don’t love me , Jayce. You love the idea of me. You love what we were . But you never really saw me.”
His breath caught. His mind raced, reaching for something, anything .
“That’s not true.”
“It is.” Her voice softened, but it wasn’t gentle. It was tired. “If you’d loved me, you wouldn’t have left me behind.”
His heart thundered in his chest. “I never meant to.”
“But you did.”
Silence stretched between them—heavy, suffocating.
Viktoria looked at him for a long moment, something in her gaze fracturing.
Then she turned. She left the lab, the sound of her cane tapping rhythmically against the floor growing fainter with every step.
Farther and farther.
Until she was gone.
I got the idea and inspiration for this fic a long time ago thanks to a fanart I saw—but unfortunately, I lost track of it not long after. Today, I finally managed to find it again and track down the artist's account!! If you’re curious about how I picture Viktoria, here’s the link to the post! Please show the artist lots of love—they’re the reason this fic exists!
Viktoria's fanart by Rikku
Link to AO3 for this story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64607005/chapters/166026910
Jayce wasn’t exactly sure when he’d lost sight of Viktoria. And he didn’t just mean at the gala—though yeah, also at the gala. But the distance he was talking about felt different. One moment, she was right there, just a few steps away, thanking him, smiling up at him, her hand brushing his chest. The next moment, she was gone.
In that sea of people and empty conversations, he searched for her, all while those damn words kept echoing in his head— “My date.”
“What the hell,” he muttered under his breath. Why hadn’t she asked him to be her date? Why didn’t he know anything about it? Sure, the invites allowed a plus one, but... come on, he’d just assumed that—
He found her. And the second he did, hot irritation flared in his chest.
That damn assistant.
The same one from the lab. The one who acted way too familiar with Viktoria. The one who stood just close enough to touch her.
Jayce had never paid much attention to him before—just another name, another face, one of the many who came and went through the academy. But now, seeing him lean toward her, seeing that smile aimed at Viktoria like she was something rare, something within reach—Jayce’s hands curled into fists. That guy had actually had the guts to ask her? And she had said yes? Was that why she hadn’t protested when she heard about the gala? And what if... what if she’d invited him herself? No. No way. Absolutely unthinkable. That little worm must’ve planned the whole thing since he dragged her out of their lab that day. Sneaky bastard.
The worst part? Viktoria wasn’t pushing him away.
She wasn’t exactly encouraging him either—her posture was composed, her expression unreadable—but she wasn’t stopping him. And that? That was new. Viktoria didn’t let people close.
Except, apparently, him.
Jayce barely registered Mel talking beside him—something about a senator or a deal—because all he could focus on was Viktoria, tilting her head slightly, listening to whatever the hell that bastard was saying. The assistant laughed at his own words, leaning in even closer— too close.
Jayce’s jaw tightened.
He told himself it wasn’t his problem.
And yet—
When he saw the assistant reach out—a small, casual gesture, his fingers brushing the sleeve of Viktoria’s dress—instinct kicked in.
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was already there.
“Vika, there you are,” he said, stepping between them so abruptly the assistant had to take a step back. “I’ve been looking for you.”
It was a lie. He hadn’t been looking for her. He’d been watching her. But there was no way he was admitting that.
Viktoria blinked, clearly surprised. “…Really?”
“Yeah,” Jayce said firmly, then turned to the assistant with a polite— too polite—smile. “Hey, don’t think we’ve met. You are?”
The assistant, to his credit, didn’t seem fazed. “Dorian Faulk,” he said, offering a hand. “I’m with the research division.”
Jayce didn’t take it.
Instead, he placed a hand on Viktoria’s shoulder—a casual, familiar, territorial gesture—and said, “Well, Dorian, thanks for keeping my partner company, but I actually need to borrow her for a moment. Lab business.”
Viktoria narrowed her eyes slightly. “It’s not work hours, Jayce.”
Only once they were far enough did Viktoria stop, pulling out of his grip. “That was petty.”
Jayce sighed, raking a hand through his hair. “Seriously?”
“Yes.” Viktoria’s gaze was sharp, analytical. “Since when do you care who I talk to?”
Jayce opened his mouth. Closed it again.
What the hell was he supposed to say? That he didn’t care? That’d be a lie. That he did care? That would be admitting way too much.
“…Apparently, since now,” he muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
Viktoria studied him for a long moment before letting out a small sigh. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Maybe.” Jayce glanced back toward Dorian, now talking to someone else. His jaw clenched again. “But so is he if he thinks he’s got a shot with you.”
Viktoria tilted her head. “And why not?”
Jayce hesitated. His stomach twisted.
Because it should be me.
Wait— what? He mentally punched himself.
“…No reason,” he said finally, voice low. “Forget it.”
He glanced at her sideways. “You know, you could’ve told me you were bringing a date.”
A waiter walked by with a large silver tray full of gleaming champagne flutes. Viktoria took one. She didn’t drink—hated the taste of alcohol—but brought it delicately to her nose and inhaled the scent, eyes half-lidded.
Jayce suddenly felt very thirsty.
“I didn’t think it was relevant,” Viktoria replied at last. “You’re someone’s date too, aren’t you? I don’t recall making a fuss about it.”
“Oh, come on, Vika. This gala is basically Mel’s. She doesn’t need a date in her own house, does she? I’m more of a guest than anything.”
Viktoria folded her arms around herself with a wicked—and, Jayce thought, painfully attractive—smirk, tilting her head. “Well, look at that. Jayce Talis, the man of progress, crashing a party no one invited him to go with. What a scandal.”
Jayce clasped his hands behind his back. “Not exactly. I’m pretty sure I walked through that front door with you.” He nodded toward the grand entrance behind them.
At that, Viktoria furrowed her brow—not confused, but as if the direction this conversation was taking no longer amused her. “Are you saying you were my date, Jayce?”
Jayce squinted, shrugging like it was no big deal. “I just kinda assumed I was.”
Her grip on the glass tightened. Her lips pressed into a thin, unimpressed line. “I don’t remember you asking me.”
Jayce opened his mouth like a fish, brain short-circuiting. He had just assumed. Real smooth, scientist. Really smooth. “W-well... I mean—I just—” He scratched at his chin, feeling as trapped as a mouse.
“Because you assumed no one would ask me.”
A big, dumb, idiotic mouse.
She sighed. “Forget it.” Viktoria didn’t press. But the way she looked at him—calm, knowing—made his stomach twist even harder. “I’d better make this night useful and ensure the investors don’t find a reason to slash our funding.”
Jayce nodded and watched her walk away, disappearing into the crowd.
For the rest of the evening, no matter how hard he tried, Jayce couldn’t get Dorian out of his head—or how badly he wanted to trap that idiot’s hands between the hammer and the anvil of his forge.
The night was finally winding down, but Jayce still felt restless.
He’d spent the evening playing his part—shaking hands, offering reassurances, smiling for the sake of appearances. Yet none of it had mattered. Not the Council members, not the discussions about Hextech, not even Mel standing by his side.
His mind was elsewhere.
On her.
The assistant hadn’t approached her again, and Viktoria had moved through the guests just enough to keep them content, making sure she wouldn’t have to attend another event like this for at least a year—maybe more, if she’d played her cards right.
She was now near the exit, speaking to one of the event organizers, her posture still composed despite the clear fatigue on her face. The sharp lines of her usual uniform were softened by the evening dress she’d reluctantly worn, but her presence hadn’t changed—calm, poised, untouchable.
But not to him.
Right?
Jayce didn’t hesitate as he made his way toward her, completely ignoring Mel’s pointed stare from across the room.
He should’ve stayed. At least said goodbye.
He didn’t.
“Ready to go?” he asked, stopping beside her.
She raised an eyebrow. “You’re leaving?”
Jayce sighed, glancing around at the lingering guests. “I think I’ve had enough of this crowd for one night.”
Viktoria made a soft sound of understanding. “Mel won’t be thrilled.”
“She’ll live.” He shrugged, then nodded toward the door. “You’re taking a carriage?”
Viktoria’s gaze drifted to one of the windows, where the cool night air seemed to beckon. “I was thinking of stepping out for a bit. Clear my head... you know, recalibrate.”
He nodded, signaling at another organizer for his coat “Come on, I’ll walk you home.”
Viktoria hesitated. “That’s not necessary.”
“But I want to,” Jayce said, before he could stop himself. “So let’s go.”
She didn’t argue. The organizer handed her coat over. Jayce helped her into it.
The streets of Piltover were quiet at that hour, the usual bustle muted beneath the soft glow of the streetlamps. The silence between them stretched, comfortable at first, but Jayce knew it wouldn’t last. Not after everything.
Eventually, he sighed. “Alright. Just say it.”
Viktoria glanced at him. “Say what?”
“You’ve been waiting this whole time to scold me first, haven’t you?”
She let out a quiet breath, something close to amusement. “What would be the point? You know you were being ridiculous.”
Jayce groaned. “You’re saying it anyway.”
“Because it’s true.” Viktoria adjusted her grip on her cane, walking steadily beside him. “You were acting like a child with Dorian.”
Jayce’s hands tightened in his pockets. He knew that. And still…
“He was all over you,” he muttered.
Viktoria gave him a flat look. “He was standing next to me.”
“Exactly.”
She sighed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
Jayce ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I don’t know, okay? It just… got under my skin.”
“And why’s that?” Viktoria asked—not accusing, not demanding. Just curious.
Jayce stopped. She turned to face him, waiting. That question again.
He only noticed now, but she’d been asking it for days: why?
Why couldn’t he handle her ignoring him?
Why had he lost it when she walked off with that assistant?
Why did it piss him off so much just to see another man look at her?
Why had he needed to interrupt, interfere, stake a claim he had no right to make?
His throat felt dry.
“…Forget it,” he said at last, shaking his head.
Viktoria watched him for a moment before letting out a quiet breath. “Jayce.”
There was something in the way she said his name—steady, calm, quietly final.
“This can’t keep going,” she said simply.
Jayce felt the words hit like a punch to the ribs. “…What do you mean?”
Her expression didn’t change. “Whatever this is between us. Whatever you think it is—it has to end.”
“I—” His voice cracked. “I don’t—”
“I’ve accepted it,” she said, firm and unwavering. “And you should too.”
Accepted what? That things weren’t the same anymore? That the part of his life where it had always been just the two of them—where they had always understood each other without needing to speak—was over?
His stomach twisted.
Viktoria turned and started walking again. Jayce followed, but for the first time, he didn’t know how to close the distance between them.
He’d always thought Viktoria was the one who didn’t understand emotions.
But now, as they moved forward in silence, he started to realize—maybe he had never really understood her at all.
The walk to Viktoria’s apartment was silent. Heavy.
Jayce’s mind was a storm—thoughts crashing into each other, none of them making sense, none of them able to fix what was happening.
And then they arrived. Standing still in front of her door.
Viktoria reached for her keys, but Jayce stepped forward before she could go inside. His hand clenched into a fist at his side before he finally spoke, voice low and tense.
“I don’t want to.”
She paused, fingers still resting on the doorknob. “Jayce.”
“I don’t want to,” he repeated, more certain this time. “I don’t want things to change.”
Viktoria let out a quiet breath, but didn’t look at him. “They already have.”
Jayce shook his head. “I don’t want them to.”
“It’s not about what you want.”
“I want to be the one beside you,” he said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. “I want to be your partner. I want things to go back to the way they were.”
At that, Viktoria finally turned her head to meet his eyes. There was something unreadable in her expression, something distant—something final.
Her voice was a whisper when she spoke.
“I don’t.”
Jayce felt the air leave his lungs.
She turned back, opened the door, took one step—
And he caught her wrist.
Not roughly, not angrily. Desperately.
She froze.
Jayce swallowed hard. His hand trembled slightly as he held onto her, the grip gentle enough for her to pull away at any moment.
But she didn’t.
Not right away.
“…Viktoria.” His voice was barely more than a breath. He had a sudden, terrifying thought—a dreadful instinct that shifted into certainty, then into fear.
Slowly, she turned her head just enough to look back at him over her shoulder. And in the dim glow of the streetlights, he saw it—just for a second. The hesitation. The crack in her perfectly composed expression.
But then it was gone.
She exhaled softly, eyes dropping to the ground. “Let me go, Jayce.”
His grip faltered.
And finally, he let her go.
Viktoria didn’t say another word. She just stepped inside and closed the door behind her.
Leaving Jayce there, staring at the wood, heart pounding far too hard in his chest.
He understood now—he finally did. And still, he didn’t know what to do. For the first time, his brilliant, intuitive, fast-working mind was stuck—completely frozen, without a single solution.
And he had no idea how to handle the weight of that paralyzing realization.
All he knew was that he hated the feeling in his chest—that horrible, crushing thing he couldn’t even name.
All he knew was that he had just lost something.
Something so precious, not even the most powerful Arcane magic could bring it back.
He had lost Viktoria’s love.
And he had no idea how to get it back.
I got the idea and inspiration for this fic a long time ago thanks to a fanart I saw—but unfortunately, I lost track of it not long after. Today, I finally managed to find it again and track down the artist's account!! If you’re curious about how I picture Viktoria, here’s the link to the post! Please show the artist lots of love—they’re the reason this fic exists!
Viktoria's fanart by Rikku
Link to AO3 for this story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64607005/chapters/166026910
Days passed.
Whatever had changed between them after their last conversation seemed to have settled—smoothed out like the surface of a lake after a storm. The ripples had faded, leaving only stillness in their wake. Viktoria acted like always: focused, efficient, buried in her work. Jayce did the same, pushing forward with his projects, sliding into that routine that had once felt so natural between them.
And yet, something wasn’t the same anymore.
He couldn’t name it—not exactly. But a quiet unease had taken root in his chest, persistent, impossible to ignore. It wasn’t tension. It wasn’t guilt, or resentment, or anything that simple. But it was there.
Maybe it was the way she didn’t argue with him anymore—not like she used to. Or maybe it was the way she met his eyes without hesitation, yet there was something… lighter in her gaze. Not relief. More like the trace of something she’d let go of.
And he should’ve felt better about that.
But he didn’t.
So when the invitation to the Council’s gala arrived, Jayce was already prepared for Viktoria’s usual answer: a firm, disinterested no. She never went to those things. They weren’t her scene, and she had no patience for hollow formalities.
But this time, there was no way out. The Council had made her presence mandatory.
He expected her to protest, to grumble about wasted time and pointless social rituals. Instead, she just sighed and said, “Very well.”
It shouldn’t have bothered him.
But it did.
The gala was exhausting—as always.
Handshakes, fake smiles, reassurances about Hextech’s future. The usual blend of admiration and skepticism from the Council, the crushing weight of their expectations on his shoulders. And, of course, Mel—gliding effortlessly through the crowd, keeping him close, steering him like a polished showpiece.
Jayce was used to all of it by now.
What he wasn’t used to was the way Viktoria was ignored.
She came to these events so rarely he always forgot: it wasn’t overt rudeness—no one rejected her to her face. But maybe that was worse. She was invisible. A shadow at the edge of conversations, acknowledged with a distracted nod at best, never invited to join the talks about the very work she’d poured her life into.
And it made him angry.
Angrier than he wanted to admit.
At first, he thought Viktoria would say something, let that sharp tongue of hers slice through the gala’s stiff air. But she didn’t. She didn’t even seem surprised. Or annoyed.
She didn’t even seem interested.
And that —that infuriated him even more.
He moved before thinking.
Took her by the arm—not roughly, but firm enough to make her whip her head around in surprise as he pulled her beside him.
“Jayce—”
“Come on,” he said, ignoring her silent resistance.
He didn’t ask permission. He didn’t wait. He didn’t care about Mel’s irritated look or the Council’s confused expressions.
He started introducing her—to everyone. Not casually, not in passing, but with clear, deliberate intent.
Viktoria—who had been essential to the development of Hextech. Viktoria—who had worked tirelessly, pushed the limits of science, been there from the very beginning.
She stiffened under the sudden attention, discomfort radiating off her in waves, but Jayce didn’t stop. Not until he saw the shift—the way people finally looked at her. The way they were forced to see her.
Not until Viktoria turned toward him, frustration flashing dangerously in her eyes.
“Jayce,” she hissed through clenched teeth, voice tight. “ Enough. ”
And for the first time that evening, he really looked at her.
She was tired.
Not just from tonight. From all of it.
From the forced interactions, the hypocrisy, from being overlooked—not just this evening, but likely for far longer than he’d ever noticed.
That realization hit him like a punch to the chest.
So he let her go.
Mel didn’t say anything, but her glare was sharp as he led Viktoria away from the main hall and into one of the adjacent rooms. The muted buzz of the gala faded as the door shut behind them, leaving silence in its place.
Viktoria sank into a chair, resting her cane against her knee.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Then finally, she looked up at him with a tired sigh.
“What the hell was that?”
Jayce ran a hand through his hair, stepping closer.
“I couldn’t take it,” he said quietly. “The way they looked at you. Or didn’t look at you at all. Like you weren’t even there.”
“As if that’s anything new.” Viktoria shrugged, leaning back and closing her eyes for a second, exhaling. “It doesn’t matter.”
He frowned. “It matters to me. ”
Something in her gaze flickered. She stared at him for a long beat, something unreadable behind her eyes. Then she sighed again, shut her eyes briefly, and shook her head. “You’re exhausting.”
Jayce laughed softly, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, I get that a lot.”
She didn’t answer right away. When she finally did, her voice was gentler.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yes,” Jayce said. “I did.”
Viktoria inhaled through her nose, pressing her fingers to her temples. “It won’t change anything, you know.”
“Maybe not,” he admitted. Then, after a pause, he added, “But I see you, Vika. I just… wanted you to know that.”
For the first time that night, her shoulders relaxed. Just a little.
Enough for the knot in Jayce’s chest to loosen.
This time, the silence between them wasn’t strained.
And for the first time, Jayce didn’t feel like he was standing on the edge of a bridge.
He’d already crossed it.
Viktoria studied him in the soft light of the empty room, her expression unreadable.
She sighed, smoothing out her skirt with a small grimace of discomfort.
Jayce could still hear the faint hum of music, laughter, and the clinking of glasses coming from the main ballroom, but in that quiet space, everything felt distant. Everything except Viktoria, who he only now noticed was wearing a long cream and burgundy dress, with intricate golden detailing wrapping around her hips, shoulders, and wrists. A high tulle collar flowed into a V-shaped backline that revealed a strip of pale skin—and part of her brace.
Simple, especially compared to the high-fashion outfits imported straight from Ionia worn by the other high-society guests, and yet… on her, it was breathtaking.
From where she stood, turned slightly to the side, Jayce could catch the soft curve of her neck as it dipped down her spine.
Sensing his gaze, though not seeming to mind, Viktoria’s eyes settled on him—tired, but steady. “You should head back,” she said, adjusting her gloves. “Mel’s probably looking for you.”
Jayce let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, yanked back into reality. He raked a hand through his hair. “I don’t care.”
Viktoria raised her brows, just barely.
“That… doesn’t sound like you.”
Jayce gave a dry laugh.
“Yeah, well… maybe I’m tired of always playing the same damn role.”
He turned fully toward her.
“And I’m tired. Tired of watching you be treated like you’re not the reason this entire thing exists. Tired of standing there while they ignore you just because you don’t fit their perfect image of a Piltover genius.”
Viktoria exhaled softly through her nose and shifted slightly in her seat.
“I told you already, Jayce. I don’t care.”
“And I told you—I do.”
Something flickered in her eyes.
For a long moment, neither of them said anything.
Jayce crossed his arms, staring down at the intricate patterns on the floor.
“Maybe I didn’t notice before,” he admitted, voice lower. “Or maybe… I didn’t want to notice. I let them parade me around like their golden boy. Let them shake my hand, praise my ‘brilliance’... while pretending you weren’t even there. Right next to me. I know you don’t usually mind but…”
He clenched his jaw. “But tonight, it just—” he exhaled, shaking his head. “It pissed me off, Vika. And I don’t even know why.”
She watched him for a long while, then finally sighed.
“Because you have a strong sense of justice,” she said simply. “And you can’t stand injustice, even when it benefits you.”
Jayce let out a bitter laugh. “That’s a much prettier way of saying I’ve been blind this whole time.”
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re just finally seeing things a little more clearly.”
Jayce frowned—something in her tone hit him oddly deep in the chest.
She reached for her cane and slowly stood, her movements more sluggish than usual. Instinctively, Jayce moved to help her, but she stopped him with a small gesture, regaining her balance on her own.
“I should get back to the party,” she said. “Unlike you, I’m actually expected to be there—at least tonight.”
Jayce sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there in a minute.”
Viktoria gave him a look. Then, after a brief pause, she reached out—her gloved fingers brushing lightly against the collar of his jacket. She straightened it, smoothing the fabric against his chest. It was the gentlest touch, barely there, but enough to make him freeze.
“…Thank you, Jayce.”
Before he could say anything, she’d already turned and started toward the doors. She cracked one open, a sliver of light falling across her face.
“Ah, looks like my date’s arrived,” she said, just before the door closed behind her.
Jayce stood frozen long after she’d gone, staring at the spot where she had been.
Her what ?
Link to AO3 for this story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64607005/chapters/166026910
I've been posting "A beautiful, useless thing" here on this side account on Tumblr cause I was afraid that a female!Viktor wouldn't be well received by the fandom. But I'm tired of being afraid. I have an AO3 account and my main Tumblr account that would be able to reach a lot more readers. I don't even know how many will see this post, just like my fic that I've been keeping in a corner like I should be ashamed of it, but I worked really hard on it, I crafted it with care and lots of fun.
So, let me know if I should just do it and post it on my AO3 and my main Tumblr. I probably will anyway, but I wanted to ask those very few that have read it.
I want to thank everyone who shared their feedback and encouragement! I really appreciate it and am so happy!! Thanks to you, I posted "A beautiful, useless thing" on AO3, I'd be lying if I said I didn't still have a little anxiety and fear about doing so, but I'll try anyway!
Here's the link to AO3 (if you'd like to check out my other fics, I'd love to): https://archiveofourown.org/works/64607005/chapters/165946480
And here's my main Tumblr account: https://www.tumblr.com/simplysamiblog?source=share
I've been posting "A beautiful, useless thing" here on this side account on Tumblr cause I was afraid that a female!Viktor wouldn't be well received by the fandom. But I'm tired of being afraid. I have an AO3 account and my main Tumblr account that would be able to reach a lot more readers. I don't even know how many will see this post, just like my fic that I've been keeping in a corner like I should be ashamed of it, but I worked really hard on it, I crafted it with care and lots of fun.
So, let me know if I should just do it and post it on my AO3 and my main Tumblr. I probably will anyway, but I wanted to ask those very few that have read it.
The silence between them stretched into the next day.
It wasn’t angry anymore. Just… tense. Rigid. Like two people standing on opposite ends of a bridge, neither willing to take the first step.
Jayce hated it.
Viktoria had always been quiet, but not like this—not in a way that made him feel like something was missing. Like there was a wall between them now, and he had no idea how to break through it.
And the worst part? He didn’t even know why it was bothering him this much.
He tried to act normal, or at least as normal as possible. Focused on work, kept his head down, forced himself to ignore every time his gaze drifted toward her desk. But every time she moved, every time she reached for a tool or made a note, he found himself hoping—expecting—that ease between them to come back.
It didn’t.
Eventually, as the sun dipped below the horizon, he let out a sharp sigh and pushed his chair back. “Alright. That’s enough of this.”
Viktoria didn’t even look up from her work. “Enough of what?”
Jayce huffed. “Come on, Vika. Don’t do this.”
She finally glanced up, one brow arched. “Do what?”
He threw his arms up, frustrated. “This. Pretending everything’s fine when we both know it’s not.”
She blinked slowly. Then, after a moment, she set her pen down with careful precision. “Alright,” she said. “Let’s talk about it.”
Jayce faltered. He’d expected more resistance. Maybe another sharp jab. But she was just watching him now. Waiting.
He hesitated, suddenly unsure what he even wanted to say.
Finally, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? Yesterday I was being a dick. And I guess…” He paused, searching for words. “I didn’t like seeing you with that guy. It pissed me off.”
Something flickered in her eyes—brief and unreadable. “And why is that?”
Jayce opened his mouth—then closed it. The answer should’ve been simple, right?
It wasn’t.
“Because,” he said, a little too defensively, “I mean, asking you for a favor right after doing the bare minimum of his job was just…” why did he feel like an idiot all of a sudden? “Shady,” he muttered.
Viktoria studied him for a long time, her expression unreadable. Then she gave the faintest nod. “I can take care of myself, Jayce.”
“Y-yeah, of course, I’m not saying you—”
“But I get it. Let’s just drop it. No need to talk about it again. It’s done.”
And that was it. No argument, no sharp comebacks. Just those words—calm, final.
And for some reason, they made his chest tighten.
Jayce exhaled, trying to relax. “So… we’re good?”
Viktoria gave a small smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Sure.”
But something was off.
She seemed lighter—but not in a good way. Like something inside her had shifted, like she’d made a decision he wasn’t part of.
Jayce frowned, unsettled. But before he could say anything, she’d already turned back to her work.
He didn’t know why it left a hollow feeling in his stomach.
And he didn’t know why, suddenly, he needed—desperately—to figure out what she had just let go of.
Jayce wasn’t waiting.
Not at all.
He was just… working.
Focusing on his projects, perfecting some calculations, ignoring everything else.
Except the lab felt damn too quiet.
Every time the door didn’t open, his irritation grew. The clock on the wall kept ticking away, and he ground his teeth as the time stretched into an hour. Then two.
It was stupid—getting worked up over something so trivial—but his mind couldn’t let go of the image of that assistant walking next to Viktoria. Too close.
And then the thought got even worse.
He imagined them at a café—one of those cozy, ridiculously expensive spots that students loved. The assistant, with his stupid, confident air, would probably try to impress her, maybe offer her a coffee.
And Viktoria—logical, detached Viktoria—would politely refuse because she didn’t drink coffee.
She preferred sweet, warm, creamy drinks. Milk with honey.
And Jayce knew that.
Only Jayce knew that.
The thought gave him a petty satisfaction, a small, smug tightness in his chest. Because he was her partner. He was the one who worked by her side, who knew her habits, her rhythms, her mind.
That idiot assistant knew nothing.
The clock ticked again. Two full hours.
Jayce was already halfway out of his chair, ready to leave the lab and go find her, when the door finally opened.
She walked in with her usual composed grace, impassive, as if she hadn’t just been gone for an eternity.
Jayce, still standing, turned to face her, arms crossed. His voice came out sharper than he intended.
He raised an eyebrow, tone biting. “Took you quite a while to talk about some papers.”
Viktoria calmly placed the stack of papers on the desk, her face unreadable. “Yes. It was a thorough discussion. The professors had many points to go over.”
Jayce scoffed. “Ah, sure. And I bet the assistant had nothing to do with the delay.”
If she noticed the sharpness in his words, she didn’t show it. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with a hint of amusement. “Am I now supposed to report every single movement I make to you?”
Jayce stiffened. “That’s not what I—” He sighed in frustration, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just that… It feels like a long time to be gone, that’s all.”
She made a low sound, clearly unimpressed. “Not everyone has your oratorical talents. Some people actually need to be listened to when presenting a project; a fake smile and a fancy dinner aren’t enough. Maybe you’ve forgotten that.”
He ignored the sarcasm, jaw clenched. “You know that’s not how it is. My work in the Council benefits both of us, it takes up time, but the heart of Hextech is here, with us. If we let ourselves get distracted—”
“Distracted,” Viktoria repeated with a sarcastic laugh. Then she fixed him with a sharp, steady gaze. “Yet I don’t recall ever signing an agreement that prevents me from existing outside of your presence.”
Jayce gritted his teeth. Why did she always have to be this way? So damn calm, while he felt like he was burning from the inside?
“It’s not—Ugh, damn it, Viktoria—” He exhaled, his voice lowering into a rougher, tenser tone. “I’m just saying you’ve never taken this long, that’s all.”
She watched him in silence for a moment. Then—
“You’re ridiculous.”
Jayce blinked. “Excuse me?”
Viktoria simply returned to her desk, as if the conversation was already over. “I won’t apologize for existing outside of this lab, Jayce. If that’s a problem for you, it’s something you’ll have to solve, not me.”
That infuriatingly unwavering calm—she made him lose his mind.
And the worst part?
She was right.
Jayce had no reason to be this upset.
But seeing her so indifferent, as if nothing had changed—as if he hadn’t been literally losing his mind for two stupid hours—only made it worse.
So, instead of responding, he huffed, turned, and dropped back into his chair with more force than necessary.
“Do whatever you want.”
Viktoria gave a slight shrug. “That was already my plan.”
The tension in the lab was so thick it could suffocate.
Jayce sat at his usual spot, fists clenched under the table, eyes locked onto the schematics in front of him as if they had personally offended him. He hadn’t spoken a single word to Viktoria all morning—not that she seemed to care.
She worked, methodical and detached as always, as if last night’s argument had never happened. As if he wasn’t sitting just a few feet away, stewing in his own frustration.
Jayce could have ignored it—should have ignored it.
But he was stubborn, and Viktoria… Viktoria was worse.
She was calm, unshaken, always logical. But when she set her mind on something, it was like trying to move a mountain.
And right now, she had apparently decided that he no longer existed.
Jayce exhaled sharply through his nose, scribbling something on the blueprint just to keep his hands busy. Fine. If she wanted to act like she didn’t care, then so could he.
The thought of finally breaking the silence, of forcing her to acknowledge the tension between them, crossed his mind—when the lab door suddenly swung open, and an unfamiliar voice shattered the quiet.
“Here you go, Professor.”
Jayce frowned, looking up.
A young man stood in the doorway—one of the lab assistants—holding a neatly bound stack of documents. Tall, lanky, probably in his early twenties. He didn’t have that stiff, self-important air most of the Academy scholars carried, the kind that made them seem perpetually weighed down by their own significance. No, this guy had an easy confidence about him.
But more than anything, he was too comfortable with Viktoria.
Jayce knew what Viktoria did to people. Even without trying, she intimidated—sometimes even frightened—them. Piltover intellectuals were arrogant, sure, but they knew genius when they saw it. And with Viktoria, there was always an invisible line, one that few dared to cross.
This guy? He had stepped right over it without hesitation.
Viktoria barely looked up from her desk, reaching out to take the documents. “You were quick.”
He smiled. “What can I say? I’m efficient.”
Jayce’s frown deepened.
The assistant set the stack of papers down, leaning against the table with a casual ease that felt completely out of place. “Had to convince Professor Lyndon, though. He wasn’t exactly thrilled about signing off so fast.”
“Lyndon is never thrilled about anything,” Viktoria murmured, flipping through the pages.
The assistant laughed.
Jayce knew that dry tone of Viktoria’s all too well. And he had always been the only one to laugh at her jokes.
“True,” the assistant agreed. “But I may have promised him an explanation of your latest theories on energy distribution.” He shot Viktoria a knowing look. “Which means you owe me one.”
Viktoria sighed, shaking her head—but was that amusement?
Jayce didn’t even have time to process it before it happened.
It was barely noticeable. A slight shift. Viktoria was reaching for something when, for just an instant, her injured leg gave out. A tiny misstep, almost imperceptible.
But the assistant noticed.
And without hesitation, he placed a hand on her arm to steady her.
The worst part? Viktoria let him.
Only for a second—just long enough to regain her balance—but it was enough.
Something twisted violently in Jayce’s chest.
It was nothing. It wasn’t a problem. Viktoria wasn’t fragile, and she sure as hell wasn’t the type to accept help unless it was absolutely necessary. And yet, she had accepted it—without irritation, without pushing him away.
And Jayce?
Jayce was absolutely, fucking paralyzed.
He didn’t know what to do with this feeling, this suffocating knot in his chest. It wasn’t even rational. It wasn’t even—
“Professor, are you free later?”
Jayce blinked, snapped back to reality, his heart pounding as he realized the guy was still standing too damn close.
Viktoria didn’t look up. “Why?”
“I thought we could go over the Academy’s feedback together. Might save you some time.”
She hesitated for a fraction of a second. “That would be efficient.”
The assistant grinned. “Perfect. I’ll meet you at the main entrance.”
And that was when Jayce did something utterly humiliating.
He made a noise.
Not a word—nothing intelligible—just an involuntary, strangled sound that escaped before he could stop it. Something between a grunt and a protest, the kind of noise that bursts out when something deeply, irreversibly wrong is happening right in front of you.
The assistant turned, confused. Viktoria, at last, looked at him.
Jayce froze.
And then, because he was an idiot, he plastered a look of perfect indifference onto his face, pretending like nothing had happened.
Viktoria narrowed her eyes, as if trying to decipher something, then shook her head and turned back to the assistant.
“All right.”
Jayce clenched his jaw so tightly it hurt.
The assistant gave a quick nod before heading for the door. “See you later, Professor.”
Jayce didn’t even realize he was glaring daggers at the guy until Viktoria turned toward him again.
For a moment, they just stared at each other.
And for the first time in their long, complicated partnership, Jayce had absolutely no idea what to say.
So, like a coward, he said nothing.
Viktoria didn’t press. She grabbed her cane, straightened up, and walked out.
Leaving Jayce there, fists clenched, stomach in knots, feeling more frustrated than he had ever felt in his entire goddamn life.
Jayce stormed out of the lab, his footsteps echoing against the polished floor—quick, heavy, restless. He had no destination—not yet. He just knew he had to move, to get away before he lost control.
His chest felt tight, every breath a weight he struggled to bear. His fists remained clenched, knuckles pale. The anger burned—wild, unrelenting—a fire without a name raging beneath his skin.
The argument with Viktoria had been… what, exactly?
A misunderstanding? A disagreement? No. A complete goddamn disaster.
He should’ve felt relieved to have walked away. To have left behind her cold, cutting gaze, her words like scalpels—precise, merciless in their intent.
But he didn’t.
If anything, the farther he got, the more the frustration coiled around his chest like a noose tightening with every step.
For a brief moment, he considered going to Mel.
But the thought faded almost instantly, leaving behind a bitter taste.
Lately, she’d been distant—more than usual. And Jayce, for all his brilliance, had learned to recognize the signs of someone pulling away. He’d ignored them for a while, pretended not to notice. But they were there.
And the truth was, he wasn’t even sure Mel had ever really been his.
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.
Did it even matter?
Mel was… Mel. Flawless in her elegance, sharp and untouchable. She had drawn him in like a moth to a flame, dazzling him with her light, making him believe he could belong in her world.
But this anger—this fucking anger boiling inside him—wasn’t about her.
It was about the lab.
The one place where everything had always made sense.
Where the work had meaning.
Where even he had meaning, beyond politics, beyond titles, beyond expectations.
Where Viktoria was.
And that thought—that damn thought—was what made him stop in his tracks.
Because she didn’t want him there anymore.
She was shutting him out. Pushing him away.
And for the life of him, he couldn’t understand why that was the thing driving him insane.
Jayce exhaled harshly, finding himself at a crossroads.
He could keep walking, let his thoughts torment him until sunrise.
Or he could go home.
The decision made itself. He turned toward his apartment, jaw tight, shoulders tense.
It wasn’t until he reached the steps of his building that he realized the last thought that had crossed his mind before leaving the lab.
Is she staying there all night?
The question slid into his mind like a thin blade.
Jayce scoffed, pushing the door open harder than necessary.
It didn’t matter.
It shouldn’t matter.
And yet, as he lay staring at the ceiling in the darkness of his room, unable to sleep, he found himself wondering if Viktoria had ever gone home.
Her hands moved with a precision that should have been impossible at that speed—adjusting, tightening, recalibrating. She poured herself into her work, into the quiet hum of the lab, into the soft whisper of machines that didn’t judge, didn’t ask questions, didn’t leave.
She told herself it was just another night. Another problem to solve, another puzzle to take apart and rebuild.
But her vision was starting to blur.
At first, she ignored it. Her movements were so automatic, so deeply ingrained, that she didn’t realize what was happening until she saw the tiny, glistening droplets on the metal—scattered, barely there—and understood.
Her hands stopped.
The lab was silent, except for the faint crackle of energy from a half-assembled Hextech core beside her. Viktoria stared at her work, at the tools that had once been an extension of herself, and watched as another tear fell onto the steel.
A bitter laugh slipped past her lips.
She never cried.
She had trained herself not to.
Tears were useless. They didn’t solve problems. They didn’t mend broken bodies, didn’t change the laws of physics, didn’t rewrite the past.
And yet here she was.
Falling apart over something so ridiculous, so painfully illogical as him.
Her jaw clenched, fists tightening.
Pathetic.
She hated herself for this.
For the jealousy. For the weakness. For letting herself feel something she had no right to feel.
She had always been, above all else, a scientist. Her body was merely a vessel for her mind—something to push past its limits, to ignore when it failed, to adapt when it betrayed her. She had long accepted that her worth lay in what she could create, not in the shell that carried her through the world.
But now?
Now she was just another fool.
A fool who had let herself believe.
She bit the inside of her cheek, sharp pain grounding her, slicing through the weight in her chest.
It wasn’t just that she loved him.
It was that, for even a single moment, she had believed it could matter.
That it could make a difference.
But it didn’t. It never would.
Because Jayce—brilliant, blinding, reckless Jayce—belonged to the world. To his ideals, his politics, his ambition. And now, to her.
Mel Medarda, with her golden eyes and razor-sharp mind. With her power, her beauty, and the way she fit so effortlessly by his side, as if that was where she had always meant to be.
Viktoria wasn’t naive.
Mel saw Jayce as a weapon, a useful tool to sharpen, wield, exploit.
And Viktoria hated how much she envied her for it.
Because at least Mel could stand beside him without hesitation. Without doubt. Without wondering if she would ever be enough.
Viktoria exhaled slowly, pressing her palms to her eyes.
It didn’t matter.
Because the moment she had realized—truly realized—that she loved him was the same moment she understood that love was already dead.
There was no solution. No way back, no rewriting, no way to be less than what she was or more than what she would never be.
Jayce had walked out that door without looking back. He had chosen the other side of that world, the one filled with light, the one that was never meant for her.
And Viktoria…
She should have felt relieved.
She had spent her whole life believing emotions were secondary, that they only clouded judgment, that love was just another variable in a world ruled by logic.
And yet, in that moment, with the bitter taste of regret in her throat, she wondered if she had been wrong all along.
At first, it was subtle—Viktoria turning away just a second too soon, her answers clipped, her laughter absent. She was still there, in the lab beside him, but something had shifted, like a cog out of place, throwing off the entire machine.
She still worked tirelessly, still matched his theories with her own, still carried that same sharp brilliance that had drawn him to her from the very beginning. But she was distant now, a quiet wall forming between them.
He tried to ignore it. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe he was imagining it.
But then she stopped waiting for him at the end of the day.
Viktoria had always been the last to leave the lab, working until exhaustion forced her to rest. And yet, more and more, Jayce found himself alone in their shared space, surrounded by empty desks and unfinished calculations.
And it drove him insane.
He didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. She had every right to spend her time however she wanted. He wasn’t entitled to her presence.
But the thought of her pulling away—of her choosing distance—twisted something inside him that he couldn’t explain.
Tonight, he finally snapped.
"Are you even listening to me?" Jayce’s voice cut through the quiet of the lab.
Viktoria didn’t look up from her work. "Yes."
No. She wasn’t.
He exhaled sharply, gripping the edge of the table. "Damn it, Vik, you’ve barely looked at me all week."
"Don’t be dramatic," she said, turning a page in her notes with a deliberate slowness. "We’re here, aren’t we? Working. That’s what matters."
It wasn’t enough. It had never just been about work.
Jayce slammed his hand down on the table, not hard enough to break anything, but enough to make her finally meet his gaze. "What the hell is going on with you?"
Viktoria’s expression didn’t shift, but her fingers curled slightly against the desk. "Nothing. You’re imagining things."
"Bullshit."
She arched an eyebrow, her voice level, calm—too calm. "Is this really how you want to spend your energy, Jayce? Picking fights over nothing?"
That detached tone infuriated him. She was right there, but it felt like she was miles away, like she was slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t stop it.
"You don’t get to do this," he snapped. "You don’t get to shut me out and pretend like it’s fine."
She let out a slow breath, setting down her pen with deliberate care. "I’m not shutting you out."
"You are," Jayce insisted. "You barely talk to me anymore. You leave before I can even say goodnight. You look at me like—like you hate me."
Viktoria flinched—so slight that anyone else would have missed it. But Jayce saw it.
And suddenly, it clicked.
His stomach twisted. "Is it because of the Council?"
Silence.
Viktoria’s expression didn’t change, but he saw the way her fingers tensed, the way she took a fraction of a second too long to reply.
"You’re being ridiculous," she murmured.
"Am I?" His heart pounded. "Because ever since I—" He cut himself off, feeling something bitter rise in his throat.
This was wrong. This whole fight, this whole conversation—why did it feel like they were talking about something else entirely?
Jayce took a slow step closer, searching her face for something, anything. "Vik, if there’s something you need to say—"
"There isn’t."
Liar.
She was always composed, always rational. But now, for the first time, he thought she looked tired. Not just physically, but exhausted in a way that made his chest ache.
"Jayce," she said quietly, "go home."
That hurt more than it should have.
She was pushing him away. And he had no idea why.
Or maybe—maybe he did.
Maybe he had known all along, but had been too much of a fool to see it.
He could feel it, burning under his skin—the unbearable thought of her walking away, of her leaving his orbit entirely.
Jayce clenched his fists, forcing down everything he wanted to say. Everything he was too much of a coward to admit.
"Fine," he muttered. "Have it your way."
He turned and walked out, but the moment the door shut behind him, he felt it—
Like he had just lost something he could never get back.
