Chapter Text
The grand hall glittered with opulence, glass chandeliers dripping light like diamonds and ivory marble floors gleaming beneath the heels of the city's elite. Laughter and clinking glasses reverberated through the vast space, the room filled with quiet laughter and self-congratulation. The gala was celebrating the Hextech investment and how it would pave the way to a brighter future. It was a shrine to progress, a monument to innovation, and at its center stood Jayce Talis: the Man of Progress, charismatic, confident, and larger-than-life.
But Jayce's thoughts had long since strayed from the throng of admirers and curious hanger-ons orbiting him. Jayce found himself wandering back into the heart of the gala, looking for any sign of Viktor. He had an annoying habit of disappearing, but Jayce wasn't ready to let the night begin on that oddly tender note.
His gaze swept over many men and women and others until finally, his eyes fixed on the figure lurking at the edge of the room. Viktor.
Viktor was an island of stillness in the swirling tide of guests. A glass of wine rested loosely in his hand, though he didn't seem to notice it. His weight leaned on the cane Jayce had forged for him. The golden light of the chandeliers played tricks with the sharp planes of his face, casting fleeting shadows across his high cheekbones and the line of his jaw. Jayce admired the beauty marks just below his right eye and the one above his lips, he loved the way his amber eyes seem to glow golden when the light hits him just so.
Viktor's expression was amusing to Jayce. He found himself chuckling slightly. Viktor looked as though the gala were a particularly grueling experiment with inconclusive results. Jayce knew this because he made that expression every single time one of their theories didn't pan out.
But then Jayce noticed how no one approached him. No one even glanced his way. The same people who had practically fallen over themselves to cling to Jayce's every word acted as though Viktor were invisible. Jayce felt a familiar pang of frustration rise in his chest. They didn't even know. Without Viktor, none of this would exist. No glittering chandeliers, no clinking glasses, no Hextech, no gala at all. Jayce wouldn't even be alive.
He set down his glass, murmuring an apology to a group of admirers as he slipped through the crowd. He wasn't sure why he felt so compelled to cross the room. Viktor would hardly be impressed by the gesture, and yet the pull was undeniable. He gravitated towards Viktor like a magnet.
As he neared, the sounds of the gala seemed to blur into a distant hum, his focus narrowing entirely on the figure before him. Viktor, brilliant and aloof, inclined his head ever so slightly when Jayce approached.
"Hello, Jayce."
"You're doing a spectacular job of blending in," Jayce began as he came to a stop beside him, smiling. His smile was warm and inviting—too inviting, perhaps, given how uninviting Viktor's expression was.
Viktor turned his head, just enough to cast a sidelong glance in Jayce's direction. His brow arched with faint incredulity. "Am I?" he said. His voice was rich with his striking, distinct accent that never failed to make Jayce weak in the knees. "I would have thought the cane might give me away."
Jayce chuckled, undeterred. "It's not the cane. It's the aura of disdain. You've got it down to an art form."
A flicker of what might have been amusement passed through Viktor's eyes. "And yet, here you are."
"Of course," Jayce said, leaning casually against a nearby pillar. "It's not every day I get to witness a masterpiece in physical form."
This earned him a full turn of Viktor's head. The look he received in return was skeptical. "If this is your attempt to charm me, Jayce, you may need to recalibrate your approach. I've had more stimulating discussions with rusted gears."
Jayce's grin widened, undeterred by the sting of the retort. "Well, to be fair, rusted gears probably argue less."
For a moment, Viktor said nothing. Then, with a faint huff of breath that could have been a laugh, he shook his head. "A pity you cannot say the same."
Jayce took the moment to study him more closely. Viktor's shoulders were taut, his grip on the wine glass just loose enough to suggest he cared little whether it slipped from his fingers. The golden light of the chandeliers danced across the fine fabric of his dark coat, emphasizing his slender frame.
"You know," Jayce began again after a pause, "you could own this room if you wanted to. Half these people don't even know why they're here. They're just following the crowd. But you? You're the real deal."
Viktor's gaze shifted to him sharply, the faintest trace of annoyance flickering across his features. "No," he said flatly. "You are the 'real deal,' as you so eloquently put it. These people are here for you, Jayce. I merely..." His free hand waved vaguely in the air, dismissive. "...assisted you."
Jayce frowned, the praise dying in his throat. "That's not true, and you know it." His voice softened, but there was a stubborn edge beneath the words. "You're as much a part of all this as I am. More, probably. These people just don't see it because they don't want to."
Viktor's lips twitched in what might have been a smirk, though the gesture was devoid of humor. "People see what they want to see," he said. "And what they want is a hero, someone larger than life to embody their shallow ideals of progress and innovation." His tone turned dry, almost mocking. "Someone like you. Besides, a cripple isn't exactly a pillar of strength."
The comment landed harder than Jayce wanted to admit. He opened his mouth to argue, but Viktor cut him off with a sharp look.
"Do not waste your breath on platitudes," Viktor said. "I assure you, I am perfectly content to let them have their illusions. It costs me nothing to remain on the sidelines, and it spares me the indignity of enduring conversations like this one."
Jayce winced. "Ouch. That one actually hurt."
Viktor raised a brow. "You expected flattery, perhaps? A glowing affirmation of your importance to me?"
Jayce huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck. "No, but a little less venom wouldn't kill you."
"Would it?"
Jayce sighed, running a hand through his hair as he searched for something clever to say. Viktor had a way of dismantling his confidence without breaking a sweat, and yet he found himself oddly exhilarated by the challenge.
Jayce sighed again, louder this time, and Viktor's lips quirked in a way that suggested mild triumph. "You're impossible, you know that?" Jayce said, crossing his arms.
"I strive for the impossible," Viktor replied dryly, taking a sip of his wine.
"Yeah, well, it wouldn't kill you to loosen up for one night. This is a celebration, Viktor. It's supposed to be fun."
Viktor's eyes slid back to Jayce, unimpressed. "Ah, yes. Nothing says 'fun' like enduring hours of meaningless chatter and feigned admiration from people who could not tell the difference between a capacitor and a resistor."
Jayce laughed, the sound drawing a few glances from nearby guests. He didn't care. "Okay, fair point. But come on, not everyone here is clueless. Some of them... well, okay, most of them are clueless, but some of them might surprise you."
"Like Mel Medarda?"
"Well, yes—"
"If I wanted to be surprised, Jayce, I would not be standing in this room."
Jayce shook his head, grinning despite himself. "You know, for someone who's supposedly indifferent to all this, you've got an impressive talent for making me feel like I'm the punchline of a joke I don't get."
"That is because you often are."
Jayce laughed again, but this time it was softer, less boisterous. "And here I thought we were friends."
Viktor tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing as if appraising the statement. "Friends," he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue as though it were a concept he found dubious. "Is that what we are?"
Jayce blinked, caught off guard by the question. "Well, yeah," he said after a moment, then more hesitant but sincere, "I mean, I'd like to think so."
Viktor's lips twitched again, though it wasn't quite a smile. "And yet you persist in speaking to me as though I am some recalcitrant child who requires coaxing into good behavior."
"What?" Jayce straightened, his brows furrowing. "I don't—"
"You do," Viktor interrupted, his tone matter-of-fact. "Your attempts at... what shall we call it? Encouragement? They are thinly veiled criticisms of my demeanor, my choices, my existence at this event. If this is your idea of friendship it leaves much to be desired."
Jayce opened his mouth to argue but found himself momentarily speechless. He replayed the conversation in his head, trying to pinpoint where his words had gone so wrong. "That's not what I meant," he said finally, his voice quieter. "I wasn't trying to criticize you."
"Intentions matter little," Viktor said. "What matters is the result."
Jayce frowned, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Fine," he said. "Then let me fix the result. How do I do that?"
Viktor raised an eyebrow. "You are asking how to speak to me?"
"Well, yeah," Jayce said, throwing up his hands. "If I'm screwing it up this badly, then help me out. Tell me what you want me to say."
For a moment, Viktor said nothing, his eyes searching Jayce's face as though weighing the sincerity of the offer. When he finally spoke, his tone was softer. "Perhaps," he said, staring at Jayce, "you might begin by not presuming to know what I require or desire in any given moment."
Jayce blinked, taken aback by the directness of the response. "Okay," he said slowly. "I can do that. Anything else?"
"And," Viktor added, a small smile forming, "you might consider that silence is sometimes preferable to your particular brand of enthusiasm."
Jayce stared at him for a moment before breaking into a reluctant grin. "You know, I think that's the nicest way anyone's ever told me to shut up."
Viktor's smirk deepened ever so slightly. "A rare achievement, I'm sure."
Jayce laughed again, the sound carrying more genuine amusement. He leaned back against the pillar again, letting the tension in his shoulders ease. "You really don't make this easy, you know that?"
"I was not aware I was obligated to," Viktor replied, his tone as dry as ever.
"You're not," Jayce said quickly. "I just... I don't know. I guess I keep hoping one day you'll let your guard down long enough to let me say something nice without tearing it apart first."
Viktor's gaze flickered, his expression briefly inscrutable. Then he turned his attention back to his wine glass, his fingers tightening subtly around the stem. "Maybe," he said quietly, "you should reconsider what it is you hope to accomplish."
Jayce watched him for a moment, unsure how to respond. The air between them felt heavier somehow, weighted down with something unspoken. He opened his mouth to say something—anything—but before he could, Viktor straightened and set his glass down on the nearest table.
"I believe I have endured enough 'fun' for one evening," Viktor said, his tone brisk but not unkind. "Enjoy the rest of the gala, Jayce."
"Wait," Jayce said, stepping forward before he could stop himself. "You're leaving already?"
"I fail to see why that surprises you," Viktor replied, though there was a hint of something softer in his voice.
Jayce hesitated, then smiled, his earlier frustration fading. "Alright," he said. "But next time, you're not getting away so easily. I'll wear you down eventually."
"You're welcome to try," he said, turning away.
Jayce watched him go, the golden light of the chandeliers casting long shadows as Viktor disappeared into the crowd. For a moment, he simply stood there, the noise of the gala rushing back in like a wave. Then he sighed, running a hand through his dark hair.
"Next time," he muttered to himself, his smile returning. "Next time, I'll get it right."
Jayce let out a slow breath, his gaze lingering on the spot where his friend had stood. Friend. Partner? He had called Viktor that without hesitation, but now he wasn't so sure. Viktor's words still echoed in his mind, sharp and cutting in their precision. Was he being presumptuous? Maybe. But wasn't that what friends were supposed to do? To push each other, even if it wasn't always welcome?
Jayce shook his head, downing the last of his drink in one swift motion. He turned back toward the center of the room, where clusters of guests were gathered in animated conversation. Their laughter and chatter felt hollow now, a far cry from the tension-laden exchange he'd just had with Viktor. Still, he forced himself to move, to slip back into the role he was expected to play.
A woman in a shimmering blue gown approached him, her eyes lighting up with recognition. "Jayce Talis," she said, her voice dripping with practiced charm. "The Man of Progress himself. You must be thrilled with how the evening is going."
Jayce plastered on a smile, one that felt too tight. "It's been great," he said, suddenly missing Viktor immensely. "A wonderful turnout. It's always nice to see people coming together to celebrate innovation."
The woman laughed lightly, as though his words were the most profound thing she'd ever heard. "And all thanks to you, of course," she said. "Your vision, your brilliance—it's truly inspiring."
Jayce felt his stomach twist, the praise landing wrong. "It wasn't just me," he said quickly. "None of this would've been possible without my partner. Hextech is a collaborative effort."
"Oh, of course," the woman said, waving a hand dismissively. "But every great endeavor needs a leader, doesn't it? And you've certainly proven yourself as that."
Jayce's smile faltered. He glanced toward the edge of the room where Viktor had stood. The woman's voice faded into the background as his thoughts wandered.
How many times had he tried to include Viktor in moments like this, only to be met with resistance? It wasn't just tonight—this had been a pattern for years. Viktor didn't want the spotlight, didn't care for the accolades. But Jayce couldn't shake the feeling that his friend deserved more than being a shadow in his own story. He deserved... well, he deserved everything.
"Jayce?"
He blinked, realizing the woman was staring at him expectantly. "Sorry," he said quickly. "What was that?"
She smiled indulgently, as though forgiving him for some minor transgression. "I was just saying that I'd love to hear more about your plans for the future. Hextech is already so revolutionary—what's next on the horizon?"
Jayce hesitated, the words forming on his tongue before he could stop them. "You'd have to ask Viktor," he said, his voice quieter. "He's the one with the real vision."
The woman's smile faltered, confusion flickering across her face. "Viktor?" she repeated. "Oh, the... your associate, yes?"
Jayce's jaw tightened. "He's not just an associate," he said, his tone sharper than he intended. "He's my partner. And none of this would exist without him."
The woman blinked, clearly caught off guard. "Of course," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to imply otherwise."
Jayce forced a smile, the expression feeling more like a grimace. "Excuse me," he said, stepping past her before she could say anything else.
He found himself near the edge of the room, away from the main throng of guests. The noise was still loud, but here it felt muffled, less overwhelming. Jayce leaned against the wall, letting out a slow breath.
The truth was, he didn't care about the gala. Not really. It was just another stage, another performance. People praised him, admired him, but it always felt hollow. They didn't see the late nights, the failures, the arguments that nearly tore the project apart. They didn't see Viktor and the way his eyes lit up when he solved an equation, when he traced the intricate etchings of runes that shimmered with faint arcane energy, when he stabilized volatile compounds that threatened to collapse into violent aetheric feedback, when he murmured to himself about ionic resonance and harmonic stabilization as the room filled with the faint hum of magical energy settling into perfect equilibrium. They didn't see Viktor when he coaxed order from chaos, bending science and magic into something so impossibly beautiful that no one else could even begin to comprehend it.
Jayce's thoughts drifted back to their conversation earlier. Viktor had accused him of presuming too much, of speaking to him like a child. The words had stung, but maybe there was truth in them. Jayce had always been the optimist, the one who believed things could be fixed with the right combination of effort and charm. But Viktor was different—practical and, as much as Jayce hated to admit it, often right.
Still, he couldn't help but wish things were easier between them. Viktor had a way of keeping people at arm's length, deflecting sincerity with sharp wit and cool indifference. It was frustrating, no, it was maddening, that Viktor never wanted even Jayce to help him.
Jayce shook his head, pushing the thought away. He needed to focus. The night wasn't over, and there were still plenty of people waiting to congratulate him for things he hadn't done alone.
As the hours stretched on, Jayce made his rounds, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries. But his heart wasn't in it. Every conversation felt like a distraction, a delay from something he couldn't quite name.
Eventually, he found himself back at the edge of the room, nursing a second drink he didn't really want.
The dwindling crowd was finally thinning to clusters of stragglers, reluctant to leave the glittering world of chandeliers and prestige. Jayce found himself wandering to the edge of the room, suddenly wishing to seclude himself.
As he moved through the room, his ears caught snippets of conversation. One, in particular, made him stop in his tracks.
"... well, what do you expect from someone like him? He's from the Undercity. Brilliant, sure, but he's practically a recluse. Strange man, don't you think?"
Jayce turned toward the voice, his grip tightening around his glass. A group of three men stood near a table of hors d'oeuvres, their polished laughter grating in his ears. The speaker, a man in a pristine white tuxedo and a monocle too big for his beady black eyes, was gesturing lazily with his glass as though discussing some minor inconvenience.
"Who are you talking about?" Jayce asked, his tone deceptively light as he approached the group.
The man in the white tuxedo blinked, clearly startled to see Jayce so close. "Oh, just—ah, Viktor, wasn't it?" he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The one with the cane. Brilliant mind, of course, but he doesn't exactly have the charisma to match, does he?"
Jayce's smile was tight, his jaw clenched. "Is that so?" he said, tilting his head slightly. "Funny. I thought charisma wasn't a requirement for revolutionizing technology. Just intelligence and hard work—both of which Viktor has in spades."
The man faltered, glancing at his companions for support, but they seemed just as uneasy. "Oh, I didn't mean any harm," he said quickly, his tone slipping into a weak apology. "It's just... he's a bit unapproachable, wouldn't you say? I tried to talk to him earlier, you see, and he just... muttered. You do know he's from the Undercity, right? Animalistic folk."
Jayce stepped closer, his back straightening into something more threatening. "Unapproachable?" he repeated, his voice dangerously calm. "Maybe because he's too busy working on innovations that'll shape the future while the rest of us stand around sipping champagne and making small talk. And what does it matter if he's from the Undercity?"
The man's face reddened, and he stammered something incomprehensible before retreating with his companions in tow. Jayce watched them go, his hands still clenched at his sides.
When he turned back, he found Viktor standing a short distance away, his expression unreadable.
"How long were you there?" Jayce asked, his tone softening. "Wait—when did you even come back?"
"Long enough," Viktor replied, his voice carefully neutral. "And I didn't leave. According to someone very dear to me, I'm spectacular at blending in."
"Oh, well." Jayce shifted uncomfortably, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Why did you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Defend me."
"I wasn't going to let them talk about you like that."
Viktor gave a quiet huff, shaking his head. "Your gallantry is noted, Jayce. But I assure you, their opinions are of little consequence to me."
"Maybe not to you," Jayce said, his tone firm. "But it matters to me."
Viktor didn't reply immediately, his gaze flickering with something unspoken. Then he gestured toward a quieter corner of the room with his cane. "Walk with me?"
They found a secluded alcove near one of the grand windows, the soft glow of the city beyond casting gentle light across their faces. Viktor leaned against the windowsill, his posture as composed as ever.
"You... you didn't need to confront them," Viktor said after a moment, his tone lighter now. "It was unnecessary."
"Maybe," Jayce admitted. "But I couldn't just stand there and let them insult you. Besides, I'm not exactly known for keeping my mouth shut."
Viktor's lips quirked, and Jayce seized the moment.
"Speaking of which," Jayce said, his tone turning playful, "you know, for someone who doesn't try to impress people, you've got a pretty impressive... everything." He gestured vaguely, as though encompassing all of Viktor with a wave of his hand.
Viktor's brow furrowed, his expression skeptical. "Impressive... everything?"
"Yeah," Jayce said, grinning sheepishly. "I mean, you're smart, obviously. And, uh, your cane? Very distinguished. Makes you look like, I don't know, a badass inventor from some kind of futuristic novel."
"The cane you made for me is distinguished?"
"Well, uhm, yes."
"And... I'm a badass inventor?"
Viktor tilted his head, eyeing him with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Are you attempting to compliment me, or insult me?"
Jayce laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "Compliment, definitely. Is it not coming across that way?"
"Not particularly," Viktor said dryly, though there was a glint of humor in his eyes. "I was just teasing."
Jayce groaned, leaning against the windowsill beside him. "Okay, let me try again. You're brilliant. Obviously. But also... you're one of the most dedicated, hardworking people I've ever met. And, uh..." He hesitated, his cheeks warming. "You've got this way of looking at things—at the world—that's just... different. In a good way. A really good way."
Viktor blinked, clearly caught off guard. His gaze softened, though his tone remained measured. "That is... unexpected," he said slowly.
Jayce smiled, feeling a surge of relief. "Unexpected good, or unexpected bad?"
"Unexpected tolerable," Viktor replied, a smile tugging at his lips.
Jayce laughed, nudging him gently with his shoulder. "I'll take it."
For a moment, they stood in silence, the noise of the gala fading into the background. Jayce stole a glance at Viktor, his heart skipping a beat at the rare softness in his expression.
"You know," Jayce said quietly, "for someone who claims not to care what people think, you're pretty good at making an impression. Even if it's just on me."
Viktor turned to him, his gaze searching. "And why," he asked, his tone laced with curiosity, "does that matter to you so much?"
Jayce hesitated, his chest tightening. "Because... you matter to me," he said, the words coming out softer than he intended.
Viktor didn't reply immediately, his expression unreadable. But his gaze lingered on Jayce a moment longer than usual, and Jayce thought he saw something flicker in his eyes.
"Sentimentality does not suit you, Jayce," Viktor said at last, though his voice lacked its usual sharpness.
"Maybe not," Jayce said with a grin. "But I'm not giving it up anytime soon."
Viktor shook his head, but there was no real edge to it. And as the night stretched on, Jayce found himself content just to stand there, the world quiet and still for once, in Viktor's presence.
Then, Jayce came to a realization as the moonlight painted Viktor in a silver halo.
Jayce was hopelessly in love.
Shit.