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Dreams were the only place that pain could not follow you, Viktor believed, though his theory held no scientific evidence nor background that favored what he believed.
It was merely a naive thought that had wandered from childhood to adulthood, words said by his mother on nights where the pain was inescapable, or days when his lungs felt thick with fluid.
Sleep was the only reprieve from the waking pain that stalked him in the corner of every room, a demon that no one else could see.
Much too early on a loud Wednesday, all caused by a sharp pain under his heart, Viktor jerked awake. Everything was blurry at first, each piece of furniture nothing more than a colorless mass. He sluggishly blinked away the sleep-addled haze and honed in the ticking clock.
It was already 7:15.
Viktor lazily dragged a hand through his muddled chocolate locks, flinching at every little irritating knot that caught on his long digits. The air in the room chilled his bare chest and legs, not to mention the frozen appendages he called toes. It wasn’t his fault having heat caused more money than he was worth.
Round blue bottles labeled Propsycholio littered the obsidian desk in the corner of the room, and a shallow crack resonated through the room when Viktor sat up in bed, right foot now nestled in a pool of shattered plastic, though thankfully the bottle was empty. Sleeping pills were hard to come by when you needed them more often than not.
Even if he believed that painless dreams were accessible, his nights were typically not so lucky.
His blunt nails scratched at his chest, careful to not dig too deep and nick his thin skin. Across the room was a high window that showed off the main street, but today there were heads in the way of his sunny view.
Must be a parade, he thought, or perhaps the enforcers are paying a visit.
Goosebumps trickled along his arm as the pain in his chest stayed put, thankfully not spreading and possibly ruining another workday. He couldn’t afford to be out again, that would lead to too many questions and paperwork.
There were already too many Academy members who thought he was too ill to work, too sickly to run tests and attempt to defy the borders of Piltover’s scientific knowledge.
Finally, the pain stopped and with clear eyes he found his walking cane, using it to get closer to the window and see what all the fuss was about. Unfortunately, he was stuck listening to a couple admiring whatever was out there.
“I can’t believe that after all these years, we’re finally getting a new council member. Can you believe it, Harold? Are they coming yet?”
“Not yet, but I think they're close.” Viktor flinched when the man stepped back and his head bumped the glass. “Oh? Wait, I think I see another carriage.”
“I don’t see anything, sweetheart, are you sure?”
Viktor grimaced at the man’s low chuckle. “Allow me, dove.”
Turning away from the couple and ignoring the jealousy in his chest, Viktor carried himself to the minuscule bathroom, eyeing the metal chest brace that was perfectly dented just above the waist.
It was garishly ugly, rusted around the edges, and dented from the few hits, but otherwise in perfect working condition. Seeing as the hunk of metal allowed him to remain standing straight, as well as not collapse during his working hours, it was necessary evil.
The rest of his outfit consisted of a soft brown vest with golden buckles, slightly tarnished after all these years, beige pants with silver accented stripes, and a worn pair of loafers that were too expensive to repair.
All in all, Viktor looked ready to face the day, even if his mind was screeching for him to return to bed.
But calling out again would raise suspicion, one that was much harder to evade. Viktor gave himself a quick once over and nodded in approval. On his way out, he snagged his cane, instantly sighing in relief while the door shut and locked in place.
Living far away from the Academy and closer to the undercity had its downsides- mostly the nasty looks and sneers from those who knew his background- but it had a beautiful view most days too.
One end of the street was covered in bodies, backs facing him as cheers rang out through the air. He contemplated hobbling in their direction, curiosity only slightly piqued at the idea of a new councilor.
Their existence was a staple in Piltover’s success, and Viktor didn’t know a time when there weren’t councilors making choices that affected people like him, or enforcers rounding up those they saw as lesser.
Deciding against his initial thought, Viktor began the slow walk to the Academy, sticking to side streets and alleyways, avoiding the center streets. Unbeknownst to him, his face morphed into a tired grimace.
Perhaps it was jealousy at the carefree people cheering for their fearless rulers, or the cause could’ve come from the looks on their faces of unbridled joy. If only he were so lucky as to not be burdened by the pain of simply living.
If only he had someone by his side to take occasionally take a hold of his pain and allow him a moment to breath.
“Viktor!” yelled a small but familiar voice. “Viktor! Wait!”
Turning, the Academy scientist paused in his trek up the steps to the monstrous building, spotting the short stature of Dean Heimerdinger, esteemed council member, and essentially, his boss.
He was quick on his little legs, scampering over to smile up at Viktor. His mustache was well-groomed, as well as his expressive white brows, making the small Yordle seem taller than he truly was.
But truth be told, the extremely old being was below Viktor’s knees.
“Ah, Viktor, my favorite student. How have you been lately? I do hope you’re not working yourself too hard.” Heimerdinger scolded. “You know, you can always come to me for help. I have more free time than one would imagine, especially now that we’ve welcomed a new member into the Council.”
“Ah, yes, I heard about this. There was some sort of parade outside my window.” Viktor gave a half-smile. “I did not have time to see them for myself.”
“Hm. I see you’ve still not taken the Academy Housing we’ve so graciously been offering.” A dark look crossed the Yordle’s face. “I would have hoped you’d take my offer after the last incident near your current home, Viktor. You’re not using the brain you’ve been so wisely gifted.”
“It is a kind offer, but I am perfectly content in my own home. But I do thank you for the offer, Professor.”
“Foolish boy,” muttered Heimerdinger. “Shall I walk you to your office, Viktor? I believe I was headed that way anyhow.”
Every morning they did this, with Heimerdinger offering to walk Viktor to his office on account of heading that way.
Even on days that Viktor knew he wasn’t supposed to be in as early as ten o’clock, the Yordle was there without fail.
“How could I refuse such a gracious offer?” joked Viktor, already turning to hobble up the stairs. Only, he barely made it one step before Heimerdinger zoomed around to halt his pathetic attempt at climbing the staircase.
“No, no, my dear assistant. Come,” he tugged on Viktor’s pants, pointing to their left. “If there was ever a time to use the elevator, now would be it.”
They eventually made it to a familiar door that Heimerdinger keyed opened with glee, strutting forward with Viktor in tow.
Familiar faces with unknown names waved at the founding Councilor, nodding as well to Viktor.
Viktor’s limbs began to feel tight and uneasy, no doubt due to the various pairs of eyes watching his every step (as they always did).
Some of the faces had looked at him in disgust before, but now held it back in fear of Heimerdinger’s wrath. They all knew of the Yordle’s fascination with the sickly assistant.
His weaker leg began to tremble.
Heimerdinger noticed nothing, mindlessly pressing the button to summon the elevator.
A colleague of Heimerdinger’s stepped up to question the Dean, leaving Viktor to his own musings. He took a few deep breaths, in and out, attempting to settle the nervousness bubbling in his belly.
It was ridiculous that he still felt something as childish as being nervous, especially around people with half a mind as him.
He’d worked hard to get into the Academy and rise up in its ranks, earning the title of assistant to the Dean. Done everything he needed to do to not be sent back to the underbelly across the river. Their opinions meant nothing to him.
His head snapped back to reality when the elevator dinged and Heimerdinger waddled in, waiting with a smile for Viktor to follow. His enormous blue eyes crinkled at the edges, fingers twitching with the need to help his assistant.
But he knew better than to try and help, distinctly remembering the flash of resentment in Viktor’s eyes from previous offers.
It was so human of him to despise help from others.
Once Viktor was situated at Heimerdinger’s left, the doors swooshed shut and their trip began. Lights from the ever-glowing sun illuminated the depressed cheeks on Viktor’s face, as well as the brightness of Heimerdinger’s coat of fur; golden and snowy white.
Clearing his throat, Heimerdinger asked, “Since I have you here, have you had a chance to look over the paperwork I left in your office?”
Before Viktor could begin to remember what paperwork he was being questioned on, the elevator jolted to a stop, both doors parting to reveal a sweaty figure leaning against the wall, finger jabbing into the call button over and over.
Sweat dotted the man's forehead, and visibly dark stains covered the region of his armpits. It looked like he’d just run a marathon, thought Heimerdinger. Yet, his hair was still perfectly in place, short, trimmed to the skull
But Viktor… well, he gulped, loudly.
There weren’t meant many people who Viktor could admit intrigued him or, god forbid, he was attracted to. But something about the stranger set a low fire in his belly.
“Jayce? What are you doing here?” asked Heimerdinger, taking stock of his fellow councilor. “You’re supposed to be enjoying the parade! After all, it is in your honor.”
After a few more deep breaths, Jayce stood to his full towering height and wiped a hand across his brow. “I think I got more than enough enjoyment, Professor. And besides, Mel is covering for me.”
Deep honey eyes turned to Viktor, and the Academy assistant felt his warm skin grow hotter, cheeks beginning to flush.
There was a hint of something unrecognizable in his eyes that Viktor couldn’t place, yet he couldn’t deny the full-body shudder when Jayce asked, “Is this a friend of yours, Heimerdinger? Who else have you been keeping from me?”
He held out a deeply tanned hand, a smile still in place. “I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Jayce.”
Their eyes met, and Viktor felt his heart tense up in his chest. Jayce was inches taller than him, and his arms were thicker than any part of Viktor had ever been. He was a strong individual, emitting the stench of sweat and musk that seemed to do nothing to qualm Viktor’s growing fascination.
No, it couldn’t be fascination. There was nothing out of the ordinary about Jayce.
And yet Viktor was entranced by his eyes. They were layered like a painting, unfinished, of the sunset on the horizon near Piltover. No… no…the horizon on the undercity. Inside those orbs was a young boy with a weak body and loving parents, wishing to get away from waters and air that made him more sick with every day. But he saw more than the sadder days.
He heard his mother’s voice―"You’ll accomplish wonders, Viktor, I know it”―and the feel of his father’s strong hand on his back, pushing him out into the world. He felt emotions that were thought to have been long gone, buried deep beneath his dying flesh.
His eyes reminded him of home. Pressure built up behind his own eyes, and a single tear slipped down his cheek.
The feeling of a warm hand cupping his cheek jerked him back to the present, where Heimerdinger was looking up with worry.
“Are you alright, dear boy?”
“I…”
Cupping his tear-stained cheek was Jayce, sickly-sweet eyes wide with worry while his thumb gently wiped away the tear.
Up this close, the scar on his right brow was more prominent, as were the muscles stored in his biceps that could easily break someone as frail as Viktor.
“Viktor,” whispered Jayce, “are you in any pain? Because if you are, I can go find a nurse to help you but you have to tell me somethings wrong, okay?”
Viktor blinked. “How do you know my name?”
“No time for that, boys,” Heimerdinger cut in. “Now, tell him, Viktor, are you feeling unwell? I can’t lose the finest assistant in all of Piltover.”
Shaking out of Jayce’s hold, Viktor mustered up his shakiest smile, attempting to diffuse the situation with an easily believable fib.
“My apologies for frightening the both of you. Just a small itch in my side, nothing more.”
“That’s not nothing. You shouldn’t have to be in pain, ever.”
Jayce stepped into the elevator before Viktor could open his mouth, sidling up close to the frail man.
“We can have Dr. Jensen look it over, better to be safe than sorry.” He stopped Viktor’s protest with a raised hand. “I won’t take no for an answer. Besides, I think Heimerdinger can let you off the hook this one time, right?”
The Yordle in question furiously nodded. “He is in your well-trained hands, Jayce. I beg you not to return him to me in less than working order. That mind of his is more valuable than you know.”
“You can count on me, Sir.”
“Good, good, my boy,” muttered Dean Heimerdinger. His eyes darted to the left, analyzing the two men in the close elevator.
Whereas Viktor looked like he’d just been thrust into an unsolvable problem, Jayce looked like the cat who’d cornered the canary. Time to take my leave.
At precisely the right time, Councilor Heimgerdinger pressed the ‘open doors’ button, turning to bid farewell to his smiling associate and disgruntled assistant.
“I do believe I’ve forgotten a very important file in my office. Do forgive me, Viktor, for not accompanying you and Jayce any further.” He patted his blue suit pockets. “Farewell, boys.”
As the doors shut, Heimerdinger truly hoped he was doing the right thing. Alas, the schemes he was complicit in for a fellow councilor. Shame on him.
Jayce and Viktor stood a few feet apart in the elevator, both men side-eyeing the other.
Viktor felt like there was an itch beneath his skin, one that he couldn’t scratch but was nagging at his brain like a festering wound. It was hard for him to believe that Jayce was the new counselor but maybe there was more than met the eye. Or the Council has last their touch.
“Where are you from? You’re not from Piltover, right?” asked Jayce abruptly. His hands twitched at his sides, stuck between wanting the elevator to stop completely or go twice as fast.
“Why do you want to know?” Viktor responded after a small pause.
“Just curious is all. I’ve never heard an accent like yours, so I thought that maybe you’re from overseas, or at least your parents were.”
“Hm.”
Something akin to a smile flashed across Jayce’s face, fleeing just as fast as it appeared. But when the silence lasted a moment too long, his shoulders deflated.
“My parents were born beyond the river, amongst poisoned water and rotting air,” Viktor said. “So, no, I am not from Piltover, but there are days when I wish I had been.”
“I’m sorry, Viktor.”
“Don’t be, you are not at fault for the sins of your fellow councilors.” Viktor’s grip on his can grew tight. “May I ask how you became one? There has not been anyone added to the council since before I was a boy.”
A smile broke out on Jace’s face. “Just luck, I guess. But Councilor Medarda really helped me get on my feet, so I really have her to thank for this. And Heimerdinger’s been supporting me for a few years.”
“Interesting,” Viktor swore he’d never seen Jayce around the Academy. “And… do you typically find yourself coming into elevators, unwarranted ?”
Luckily for Jayce and his pride, his skin was too dark to see the flush he felt rushing to his face.
“I didn’t―I’m sorry if I interrupted you and Heimerdinger. I just―I thought I should introduce myself and I know you're busy but I didn’t think it would hurt,” Jayce rambled, “it was either this or come to your office… not that I know where your office is! But if I did I would’ve just bothered you there instead of now, but I saw the doors closing and thought ‘why not’?”
“... you’re sweating. Quite a lot, I might add.” Stuffed in Viktor’s front pocket was a hankey for his reading glasses, and without a second thought he offered it up. “Here, before you drown.”
Jayce licked his lips. “Thanks.” And took the pale cloth, but made no move to wipe his forehead and instead pocketed it, much to Viktor’s chagrin.
As if blessed by the gods, the elevator reached the 56th floor. The automatic doors pulled apart, revealing the empty floor that was typically bustling with lab-coated researchers.
But everyone seemed to be missing, or dead, or perhaps still asleep.
“They’re watching the parade,” offered Jayce. “Heimerdinger gave the students and majority of the staff a free day.”
Viktor deeply inhaled, feeling the rage of a thousand suns boil in his veins. He’d made the entire trip up here, half with a small man who knew this was a mistake, and the rest with a large bright-eyed sweet smiling counselor only to now realize it was all for naught?
He rounded on Jayce as best he could, poking him in the brawny chest. “Why did you not say anything? Do you take pleasure in my own humiliation?”
There was a hint of remorse in Jayce’s eyes as he replied, “No! No! I would never do that to you, Viktor.”
“And you never said how you know my name, Councilor.”
“I do work here, Viktor. And as a Councilor, I like to know the people providing the work that keeps Piltover running smoothly. You play a very important part here, and I appreciate it, really.”
There was something off about the other man, noted Viktor, either the way his honey eyes kept shifting or the ways his hands were tensed into fists. Flashes of blood and stench of iron flashed across Viktor’s memory, the dent in his chest brace feeling tight against his ribs.
Men the size of Jayce loved to make Viktor bleed.
But the vile words never came, nor did the spiteful words. All that Jayce had to offer was a smile.
No one at the Academy paid much attention to Viktor, thinking him addicted to his work or the solitude that came with being an esteemed assistant. People bumped his shoulder, snickered at his cane, or simply acted as though he didn’t exist.
And yet, Jayce was staring at him like the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of them.
“Do you like coffee?” Jayce blurted out.
He reached up to rub the back of his head, rubbing trembling fingers through his short locks. “Or tea? There’s a really good place a couple of blocks from here? It’s not too far, and on me, of course. Unless you wanted to go to your office and work, which I would totally understand.”
Was this what it was like to run an experiment without a diagnostic? To test a theory with no precautions?
Viktor tried to find the right words to say; no, you won’t stay, they never do. No, we hardly know one another. No, I’m nothing like you. You’re perfect.
But all that fell from his lips was, “I prefer chamomile tea… Jayce.”
And for the first time in a while, Viktor felt content to be alive.