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The first time Mel met Jayce, she didn’t expect him to leave a mark. He was too eager, too raw, too full of the kind of boyish optimism the world ground out of most people by the time they entered adulthood. He spoke with conviction, the kind that bordered on arrogance, but his words lacked the calculation she was used to hearing in council chambers and gilded drawing rooms.
He was something else entirely—a spark in a city built on controlled flames.
At first, she thought she could keep her distance. Men like Jayce burned bright and fizzled out just as quickly. He was a flash of brilliance, a temporary player in Piltover’s endless game of power and politics. Someone who would either adapt or be crushed under the weight of the world he was so desperate to change.
But the more she watched him, the more she realized she’d been wrong. Jayce wasn’t a fleeting light; he was a star, stubbornly fixed in the sky, defying the pull of gravity. And against her better judgment, she found herself drawn into his orbit.
It was late, long past midnight, when Mel found herself standing at the entrance of his workshop at the forge. She hadn’t meant to come; she’d planned to retire for the evening, her mind already racing with plans for tomorrow’s council meeting. But instead, her voice had asked her driver to bring her here.
Jayce didn’t hear her at first. He was hunched over his workbench, his brow furrowed in concentration as he adjusted the mechanisms of some new invention. The golden light of the forge bathed him in warmth, highlighting the strong lines of his jaw, the messy strands of hair falling over his forehead. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing strong forearms dusted with soot and grease.
She could have watched him for hours.
“Jayce,” she said softly, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the forge.
He turned, startled, but the moment he saw her, his face lit up. “Mel.”
She stepped inside, her heels clicking against the floor until she reached the edge of his workstation. “You’re still here. You’ve been working all night, I'm guessing.”
“I lost track of time,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “What about you? It’s not like you to wander the city at this hour. Especially this part.”
She ignored the question, her gaze falling to the intricate piece of machinery on his bench. “What’s this?”
“A prototype,” he said, suddenly animated as he picked up the device and turned it over in his hands. “It’s not finished yet, but if it works, it could—”
“Change the world?” she interrupted, a teasing edge to her voice.
Jayce grinned, unashamed. “Something like that.”
Mel shook her head, though her lips curved into a small smile. “You never stop dreaming, do you?”
“Someone has to,” he replied, his tone softening. “Otherwise, what’s the point of all this?”
Mel didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Jayce’s dreams were why she was here, why she kept coming back despite the risks. She’d learned that Piltover was a city that chewed up dreamers and spat them out, but Jayce didn’t seem to care. He chased the impossible with a single-minded determination that both irritated and fascinated her.
He set the prototype down, leaning against the workbench. “You didn’t answer my question. What brings you here so late?”
For once, Mel didn’t have a polished answer ready. She looked down at the table, pretending to inspect a scattering of tools. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“Thinking about the council?” he asked.
“Something like that,” she murmured, unwilling to admit that her sleepless nights were often filled with thoughts of him.
Jayce studied her for a moment, and then, without a word, he pulled out a stool. “Sit. Let me show you something.”
She hesitated. It wasn’t her place to linger here, in his world of steel and sparks, but something about the quiet sincerity in his voice made it impossible to refuse. She perched on the edge of the stool, her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Jayce reached for a small box tucked away at the corner of the bench. He opened it carefully, almost reverently, and pulled out a smooth, polished piece of metal. He handed it to her without a word.
Mel turned it over in her hands, the dim light of the forge catching on its intricate etchings. The design was delicate, flowing like waves over the surface, but there was strength in it too.
“What is it?” she asked.
“It’s for you,” Jayce said simply.
Her gaze snapped to his. “For me?”
“I started working on it a few weeks ago,” he explained. “It reminded me of you. Elegant, but… powerful.”
Mel blinked, unsure of how to respond. She was used to gifts that came with strings attached, gestures meant to curry favor or seal a deal. But this… this felt different.
“It’s beautiful,” she said finally, her voice softer than she intended. “But what does it do?”
Jayce’s lips quirked into a small smile, the kind that made her chest feel too tight. “It’s a miniature power core. A fragment of hextech energy, stabilized and contained. It doesn’t do much on its own, but it’s… potential. It’s a reminder that even the smallest things can hold great power.”
Mel turned the piece over in her hands again, her fingers tracing the delicate etchings. “You’re giving me potential?” she teased, though her voice lacked its usual edge.
“I’m giving you a piece of myself,” he said, his words simple but devastatingly earnest. “You’ve given me so much—pushed me, challenged me, believed in me even when I doubted myself. This is my way of saying thank you.”
For a moment, Mel didn’t know what to say. She was used to cutting through moments like this with sharp words and witticisms, but Jayce had a way of disarming her. In his presence, her armor felt heavy and unnecessary, and the cracks she worked so hard to hide felt exposed.
“You’re giving me too much credit,” she said finally, her tone carefully measured.
“No,” he said, his gaze steady. “I’m not.”
His confidence made her stomach twist, not with unease but with something far more dangerous. It was the same feeling she’d had the first time she realized she was falling for him—the terrifying certainty that he saw her, truly saw her, in a way no one else ever had.
“You’re an enigma, Jayce Talis,” she said, shaking her head with a faint smile. “I don’t understand you.”
He grinned, leaning back against the workbench. “What’s there to understand? I like you. You’re brilliant, you’re terrifying, and you make me want to be better.”
Mel’s breath hitched at his words, and she looked down at the core in her hands, its smooth surface cool against her skin. “You don’t argue like this with anyone else, do you?”
“Never,” he admitted, his grin softening into something more tender. “But with you, it’s different. You make me think about things I never thought I’d care about. You make me question myself.”
She met his gaze, and for a moment, the world outside the forge faded away. There was no council, no politics, no endless game of power. Just the two of them, suspended in a moment that felt as fragile and precious as the core in her hands.
“You’ve got this way of making me feel alive,” she said quietly, almost to herself.
Jayce smiled, his voice gentle. “You do the same for me.”
They fell into a silence that wasn’t uncomfortable, the air between them charged with unspoken possibilities. Mel turned the gift over one last time before setting it carefully on the table.
“It’s perfect,” she said, meeting his eyes. “But I don’t know if I deserve it.”
Jayce’s expression softened, and he took a step closer, his voice firm but kind. “Mel, you deserve more than you let yourself believe. Don’t forget that.”
Her chest tightened at his words, the vulnerability in them cutting through the walls she’d so carefully built. “Maybe,” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
He held her gaze for a long moment before breaking into a crooked smile. “Well, keep it anyway. Consider it a down payment on all the ideas you’re going to push me to make real.”
Mel chuckled, shaking her head. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you,” Jayce replied, his tone light but the weight of his words lingering in the space between them.
And for the first time in a long while, Mel allowed herself to believe in the possibility of more.
Jayce hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers as if asking for permission. Slowly, he reached out, his hand steady despite the flutter of nerves he couldn’t quite suppress. His thumb and index finger brushed along her jawline, gentle yet deliberate, before resting lightly under her chin.
Mel’s breath caught as he tilted her face upward, her pulse quickening at the sheer intensity in his gaze. He didn’t rush. Instead, he held her there, waiting, giving her the space to pull away if she wanted to.
But she didn’t.
Mel swallowed, her heart hammering in her chest as the weight of his touch grounded her. Slowly, deliberately, she gave him the faintest nod of consent, her lips parting just slightly in invitation.
Jayce’s breath hitched, and then he leaned in, closing the small space between them. His lips met hers with a tenderness that took her by surprise, as though he were afraid she might shatter under his touch. It wasn’t rushed or desperate; it was slow, reverent, and full of all the things he couldn’t put into words.
Mel’s hands moved almost unconsciously, one resting lightly on his chest while the other trailed up to his shoulder. His skin was warm under her touch, his heartbeat steady and strong. She felt herself melting into him, the tension she’d carried for so long slipping away as his kiss deepened, each movement deliberate yet unspoken.
For a moment, nothing else existed. Not the council, not the politics, not the weight of their separate ambitions. Just the quiet hum of the forge around them and the warmth they shared in the dim, golden light.
When they finally broke apart, Jayce rested his forehead lightly against hers, his thumb brushing over her chin one last time before he let his hand drop.
“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time,” he admitted, his voice low and just a little breathless.
Mel let out a soft, wry laugh, her fingers still lingering on his shoulder. “And here I thought you’d never work up the nerve.”
His grin returned, boyish and genuine. “I had to get it right.”
“You did,” she whispered, her tone softer now, her walls lowered just enough to let him see the truth beneath.
They stayed like that for a moment longer, caught in the fragile stillness of the moment, before reality began to creep back in. But even as they reluctantly pulled away, Mel could feel the echo of his kiss lingering on her lips, a promise of something neither of them could fully articulate but both were too far gone to deny.