Work Text:
Viktor hasn’t seen you so withdrawn since the time your little brother ended up in the hospital. Your eyes are vague, the familiar glittering perception almost completely absent from their gaze as they look down at your work. You’ve been staring at the numbers in front of you for almost ten minutes, completely still as if encapsulated by them. This, he knows, is entirely out of character – you checking over equations looks more like frustrated groaning, massaging your temples, and Viktor or Jayce gently placing a cup of tea somewhere in your vicinity. Seeing you so hollow is unnerving, and he can tell Jayce felt much the same when his comedic commentary about your lack of presence is met with a numb stare.
In short: Viktor is worried.
He watches you idly as the day goes by, causing him to make several simple mistakes in his own math, and even go so far as to knock a cup of coffee off of his workspace and onto the floor. Viktor had been slightly preoccupied making sure none of the liquid had touched the various mechanical pieces and pages of notes littered across his desk, Jayce laughing while picking up the broken pieces, and you give him a slight smile as you finish wiping up the mess on the floor. Perhaps losing the mug was worth it, then.
He lets it go for that day, knowing better than most what it was like having a day or two of not being one’s typical self, but the pattern continues for the rest of the week. When Jayce drags you both away for a lunch break on Tuesday, berating both you and Viktor for your lack of self-care, you pick at your meal with little interest, apparently having lost your appetite. There are bags under your eyes which seem to grow heavier by the day, likely a result of the steadily increasing amounts of caffeine you’re consuming daily (while he can’t judge, he can certainly be concerned.) You’re jumpier, too, startled by Jayce walking into the lab or the clattering of gears as machinery is shifted around. He wants to talk to you about it, to find out how he can fix whatever has gone wrong enough to affect you like this.
He hates that you aren’t yourself. There’s no sarcastic commentary about your latest exploits, exasperated sighs when an experiment doesn’t go as planned, or even gentle worry over Jayce’s increasing political involvement or the last time Viktor slept at his own home (two weeks ago, but who was counting?). He knows Jayce can see it too, for as stupid as his partner can sometimes be he’s not a complete idiot. Most of the time, at least. They’d discussed it nonverbally with glances and furrowed brows, and eventually, Jayce had tried to ask you why you were so rattled. You’d snapped at him, a scathed “Nothing” before you stormed out of the lab, leaving your belongings at your desk. Jayce’s face is drawn in surprise and hurt, and Viktor can’t help but resonate with his partner’s shock.
They discussed the best way to handle things, eventually agreeing that you may be less inclined to aggression and retreat if there were lower stakes to such a conversation. Something quiet and personal, without outside spectators. You would undoubtedly feel guilt over your response to Jayce, so Viktor volunteers himself in pursuit of such a discussion. He knows you’d have to come back sooner or later to retrieve your things, so he promises Jayce he’ll stay to try and get some answers from you that night. The sooner they could try to fix this, the better. You’d already been silently suffering for far too long for his liking.
The sun has set by the time he hears the doors to the lab quietly open, soft footsteps across the floor as someone, presumably you, enters the room. He sets down his pen, shifting in his seat to face you. You’re like a ghost in the lowlight, form illuminated by pale moonlight as you stare back at him. You don’t look surprised to see him, and he can’t really tell in the lighting if you’re upset he’s still here.
“Let’s walk.” He suggests, grabbing for his cane as he rises to his feet.
“Viktor–”
“Please.” He’s closer to your face now, can see the pain finely lining your features before you nod your agreement.
You move together slowly, in silence, as the sounds of your steps echo through the empty corridors of the academy. He lets you have time to collect yourself, because he knows you’re too smart not to know what this ‘walk’ is truly about. The two of you end up sitting in the quiet night air overlooking one of the academy’s gardens, this one featuring a collection of golden flowers which only bloomed at night.
“So, how would you like to do this?” He asks you, taking in your solemn expression.
“I suppose there’s no way for me to avoid the intervention?”
“Well, firstly, I would hesitate to call this an intervention. Consider it a… ehh… a concerned friend seeking to understand the parameters of what may or may not be wrong.”
“Mhmm, so not an intervention, got it.”
“No. I’ve noticed – Jayce and I have noticed – that you haven’t been yourself. If I can help, I would like to. Perhaps I can assist you in taking your own advice and not keeping everything to yourself. If not me, then at least someone else.”
“I know it’s just. I feel guilty, is all.” He says your name, firmly, but tenderly.
“Never feel guilty for speaking your mind, especially when I am offering.” You laugh, a strained noise that makes his heart ache.
“I am sorry about snapping earlier, and this entire week. I’ve been entirely unprofessional, and I have a whole speech I’m planning on giving Jayce tomorrow so I can plead for his forgiveness too. My personal life shouldn’t have gotten in the way of work the way it has, you know?”
“While appreciated, I promise you your apology is wholly unnecessary, and I’m sure Jayce will stop you before you even have the first word of your ‘speech’ out of your mouth. You know how he is.”
“I do, I do. And uh, I know you know I’m stalling. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, it’s alright. Take all the time you need, I’m not going anywhere… mm, we both know I may as well just move into the academy given all the time I spend here”
“Oh yes, I do know.” You sigh, hands coming to rest on your lap and you lace your fingers together. “I’m sure you remember Simeon?”
Viktor hums affirmatively – you’d met Simeon at a fundraising event neither he or Jayce could make it to. He’d never met the man personally, but you’d spoken of him well enough. It had burned, sometimes, hearing you talk of how sweet he’d been, how he’d been kind and attentive all through the evening and kept asking to dance with you. Remembered the strange pain he’d felt when you’d told him you were going on a date with him, the sinking sensation of learning you were officially together. It’d done little within the context of their day-to-day work lives, besides you occasionally coming in slightly later in the mornings or leaving earlier in the evenings. Still, there was something about your relationship with Simeon that had always rubbed him the wrong way, a feeling he’d tried to repress upon seeing how happy you were to be with him. It did not strike Simeon any points in his favor that you’d begun the discussion about what had been bothering you the past week with his name.
“We’ve been… not fighting, but not not fighting either? For the past month, it was like we didn’t talk anymore, or see each other regularly, or do things together. Then a few days ago he was waiting outside my apartment when I got home from the lab, and he went on this huge rant about how I don’t love him anymore, and I told him I did love him, and he told me that I would never love him as much as I love my job and that it’s making him look bad in front of his friends when I don’t show up to things with him – his friends didn’t even talk to me! It was just so he would have a date! Which I did because I wanted him to be happy! So I asked him what I could do to make him feel better, and he told me he wants to quit working at the academy so I’m around more. And I just, he’s so sweet when he wants to be, it’s – I don’t want to lose this, Viktor.”
As you speak, your voice grows raw and shaky, explaining what Viktor knows most be in the loosest, kindest terms the ways your boyfriend has messed up.
“Are you going to quit your job?” He asks, meeting your eyes as they go wide and your hands fly frenziedly in the air around you.
“No, no no absolutely not! I love this job, I love being here with you and with Jayce and knowing that we’re working to do real good.”
“And does Simeon make you happy – him, specifically, being who he is and the role he has in your life? …Do you like how he makes you feel? Honestly?”
“I mean, I… I… sometimes? I like knowing that there’s someone who wants me, I guess. Someone who knows my favorite flower, and how I like my coffee in the morning, and that I hate making my bed.”
“Well, I can tell you your favorite flower, and I know how you like your coffee, and I’m sorry to say but I think the entirety of Piltover may know by now you hate making your bed.” You laugh again, this time the sound choked behind repressed tears.
“You’re too good, Viktor. And Simeon is…”
“An asshole you have always been much too good for?”
“Viktor!” You shove him lightly, and he catches your hands, holding them while he looks at you.
“We both know I’m right. You really are much too good for him. You deserve better than to be treated like a ghost and then blamed for his lack of commitment.” You squeeze his hands, scooting closer to him so they hang less awkwardly between the two of you. He stiffens when you lean into his frame, resting your head on his bony shoulder, a shiver running down his spine.
“You do too, you know. Deserve a partner who loves everything about you, who sees you for the incredible person you are.”
“Don’t you dare make this about me, this evening is for you.”
“Fine, fine, you win. Just for tonight.”
“Yes, just for tonight.”
As the moon climbs higher, you drag Viktor back to the lab to reclaim your belongings, refusing to leave until he agreed to return to his own apartment for a good night’s sleep. You leave with the resolute promise you would end things with Simeon, and there’s a small lightness which returns to your eyes even during the late hour at the knowledge you’ve come to the right decision. The two of you walk out of the building together, finally separating ways at the tram station as you head in opposite directions, a hug goodbye that lingers, he convinces himself, because you’re both so exhausted.
Alone, riding the tram back to his apartment and in his bed, Viktor tries not to think about how holding your hands had made him feel. The elevation of his heart rate when you’d leaned into him. Your arms around him, reassuring and safe. You’re, well, you , so it’s only natural he’d have such a reaction to your close proximity. There was nothing more to it, just two good friends who’d enjoyed being in one another’s company.
There couldn’t be anything more, because, well, you were you.