Work Text:
Click, click, creeeak…
The sounds echoed, bouncing off the large walls and tall ceilings of the Kiramman manor, as Caitlyn slowly made her way down the hall and to her room. The sounds always echoed, but they felt more empty this time. As if the house was perfectly fit for a family of three, but without the glue that held it together, the space was suddenly too much.
Too much for an empty, grieving man and his emptier daughter who had shoved her heartache far below the surface long ago.
Because she was no longer Caitlyn Kiramman, the future heir to the Kiramman throne, who had rebelled against her destiny of politics by joining the Enforcer’s ranks. She was Commander Kiramman, head of house Kiramman, leading her troops toward justice for all of Piltover, the council, her own mother.
There was no room for broken hearts. Only cold rage and determination.
But would it really be justice, if succeeding meant passing the pain onto another person that Caitlyn held dear?
She slowly pushed the door to her room shut, leaning on the smooth wood. Her room, the only place where she allowed those weaker emotions to show.
Everything was too heavy. The collar of her cloak felt suffocating, wound around her neck like a snake, the cold metal clasp ready to dig into her throat anytime she moved her head wrong. Her shoulders sagged under the weight of not only the embellished shoulder pads, but the stress of all her responsibilities, mistakes, and regrets.
She made her way to her closet, her movements robotic, and paused to look at the to-do list on the door. She grabbed a pen and marked off two goals, barely a dent, despite the quickly setting sun, then swiped her thumb over the ones beneath it, as if rubbing hard enough would erase its mark. Perhaps the ink would fade, but the responsibility would never lift.
-make dinner
-make sure father eats
-get father to bed
Three simple tasks, really, but the implications were the hard part. Her father used to be so alive. He used to cook lovely meals and stir up compelling and humorous conversations at the dinner table.
But grief had shattered him, and now he sat in the same chair all day, some days reading, though the look in his eyes said he had only a few thoughts on repeat. Now he had to be reminded to care for himself. Now he spoke only a handful of words each day.
Caitlyn closed her eyes, unknowingly blinking back tears. It was too much to watch her father spiral.
She slowly opened the closet, and there it was. Stark against ivories and navy blues, it’s violent red perfectly matching the woman who had worn it weeks ago.
Caitlyn reached up and undid the clasp on her cloak, letting it fall to the cold, hard floor, forgotten.
She replaced it with Vi’s jacket, bringing it up to her nose and inhaling, letting the familiar scent wash over her.
It was weaker, though. Caitlyn didn’t know what she would do when it fully faded, replaced with the same scent of lavender that the rest of her clothing had.
She didn’t know what she would do, if she ever forgot Vi’s scent. What would come next? Her face?
No. She could never forget that face. Not when the last time she saw it it was contorted in pain, tears spilling from those bold, gray eyes. Tears that she had caused.
Caitlyn inhaled again. Let the memories fade, sinking to the depths of her mind. Nestled next to the image of her mother’s face, devoid of life.
She closed her closet, looked at the list again, and suddenly her shoulders felt lighter, like she could breathe for the first time that day.
The jacket was buried deep in her closet, now that it wasn’t needed. Violent red, buried in ivory and navy blue.
It wasn’t needed, because it’s owner had returned. Vi was back, and even better, had forgiven Caitlyn. She hadn’t thought that she deserved it at the time, and deep down, she still didn’t.
But right now, Vi was gone. Left to visit Ekko for the day.
And that was fine! Caitlyn was fine. It wasn’t like she was stressing over the possibility that Vi had left for good. No, she was being productive, tearing her way through report after report, and soon she would be done-
She had done two reports in the past hour.
“Fuck.” Caitlyn groaned, burying her head in her hands. She could feel herself slipping away, on the edge of a full-on breakdown.
She pushed her chair away from her desk and stumbled over to her closet, wincing as she put weight on her right side. Her stab wound was still healing, and it seemed determined to remind her everytime she stood up.
Caitlyn threw open her closet and began searching, not caring about her carefully maintained uniforms falling off their hangers and onto the ground.
Finally, she found it, buried down beneath her clothes. Vi’s jacket. It was a bit wrinkled, but otherwise it looked the same as it had all those weeks ago.
Caitlyn slid it on. Let the comforting weight of the worn leather settle as she slowly sank onto her bed. She sat on the edge, gripping the sheets until her knuckles were ghostly white.
But as she gently tugged the collar up to her nose, her fears were realized - Vi’s scent had faded.
Earthy musk with a hint of citrus, lost to lavender and aloe.
Violent red, outmatched by ivory and navy blue.
Caitlyn felt a stab of shame along with the prickle of tears forming in her eye. Felt embarrassed as she struggled to choke back sobs.
But then the door opened and Caitlyn saw a wild red mane, blurred by the tears in her eye, and pride be damned.
Vi kneeled at the edge of the bed, bringing one hand up to cup her cheek. Caitlyn was forced to meet her blue-gray gaze, her face contorted in anguish.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice barely stronger than the wind, as the first tears fell.
Vi rose and sat next to her on the bed, wordlessly embracing her. Caitlyn let her head be guided, ever so gently, by a rough hand to Vi’s shoulder.
“I’ve got you, it’s alright. Just let it out, Cait.” She murmured, the hand slowly sliding down to cup the back of her neck.
And so, Caitlyn did. She cried until her throat was sore and the fabric beneath her was soaked with tears. Even after her eye was seemingly dry, she laid in Vi’s embrace, sighing.
She tightened her hold before pulling back, just enough to wipe the trail of tears running down her face. “Sorry.”
“Hey, no, none of that ‘sorry’ bullshit,” Vi protested, her brow furrowing.
“But-”
Vi silenced her with a kiss, her scarred lips featherlight. “I love you, Cait.”
Caitlyn’s mouth parted in a silent gasp, her half-lidded eye widening.
“Y-you don’t have to say anything back,” Vi added, suddenly nervous, “and I know it might seem too early, but I just… I want you to know how much you mean to me.”
Caitlyn smiled softly, lying down and tugging Vi down with her. “I love you too.”
“Idiot.” She added affectionately.
Vi chuckled, then sat up slightly, tilting her head down at Caitlyn. “…is that my jacket?”
“Oh! Er, yes, i-it is. Sorry, do you want it back?”
She began to pull it off, but Vi stopped her, tugging the collar up.
“Nah, keep it. Red looks good on you.”