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Chapter Text

The gala was in full swing.

The most elite of Piltover danced, laughed, and chatted merrily beneath the dazzling lights and the ambience of fine music; wine flowed like conversation between lovers, decadent and sweet with only the mildest of bitterness lingering after lips last touched the rim of a flute glass.

Elora watched, seated at the sidelines, an—observer to the scenery. If the scenery were decorated in white flowing dresses and brilliant golds, framing the most stunning hazel eyes—

“Do you know what the definition of insanity is?”

Elora nearly dropped her glass. “I…I beg your pardon?” she sputtered, trying to calm the rush of blood to her cheeks.

She turned to her right, finding a thin, disgruntled man resting his weight on his cane. He beheld the same sight before her with annoyance, or maybe defeat, before turning his full attentions on her.

He matched Elora's gaze, leveling her guarded expression with humorless cynicism. “Some describe it as doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.”

He tilted his head towards the scenery before them, Elora following the gesture to find Mel, touching Jayce Talis’s arm intimately. The sight of it made Elora’s stomach turn with an unnamed emotion.

(Not that the emotion didn’t have a name, just that Elora refused to call it by what it was.) 

“I wager a more apt definition is doing the same thing over and over, already expecting the same results.” The man’s eyes flickered to the stunning pair, the Golden Boy of Piltover, and the elegant and esteemed Councilor Medarda.

Elora turned away as Mr. Talis leaned close, murmuring something in Mel’s ear, ignoring how her heart sank. “I’m still not following.”

The man beside her gave a skeptic huff. Or maybe it was a disinterested disdain as Mr. Talis gave a laugh, the jovial sound reaching them from their seat. “I know the look of unrequited, one-sided affection.”

Elora felt her heart drop, a maw opening in her chest beneath the cage of her ribs.

“Ms. Elora, right?”

“Pardon?” she gasped, hoping, praying no one heard the inane ramblings of this—this—

Madman! “Councilor Medarda’s assistant?” he asked, though judging from his extreme impudence, he already knew the answer to that.

“Oh! Yes.” That was her. Elora, ever-loyal, ever-present, and ever-overlooked. Then again, as his face finally slotted into her memory, maybe this man was a kindred spirit. “And you are Mr. Talis’s assistant—”

In more ways than one. “No, actually.” He gripped his cane with a wince, a dour look overtaking his face. “I’m his part—lab partner. And co-creator of Hextech, since the beginning.”

“Sorry,” she quietly apologized. “That’s how they introduced you to me. The Councilors—I’m really sorry.”

“No, no, I know.” Just as easily, the annoyance came to pass. His words weighed heavily with resignation more than forgiveness. “I know,” he said, a quieter echo.

Silence passed them uneasily. Elora wasn’t sure where to place her gaze. On the strange man awkwardly making conversation with her and imparting some pseud-sage observations on her pathetic night, wasting away in this seat or towards the very root of her pathetic night, who was currently drawing Jayce Talis into a dance with that devilish smile and alluring eyes—

“Would you join me at the bar for a drink?”

“WHA—” She squeaked. “No—no, I don’t—don’t get me wrong—” she sputtered, almost squirming in her seat in recoil. “But I’m not interested in—”

“Oh, I’m sure."  The man—the—lab partner, rolled his eyes. “I’m not flirting, Ms. Elora. You’re not my ty—” He gave her a once-over, taking note of certain…similarities. “Well, you are ehh…half-way there, but,” he continued, despite Elora’s raised brow of confusion. “I’m just being sympathetic to our ‘situation.’”

“Our 'situation?'” she parroted with skepticism.

“Tell me, Ms. Elora…” He raised a brow, turning his body towards her, and oh, he’s a scientist all right. “You came to accompany someone, right?”

She could tell by the perceptive gaze, the quiet calculating in his eyes, running hypotheses and settling on a null with enough evidence to outright reject it. “Yes...” Elora started. “Mel…” her voice almost withered in her throat. “She invited me. Like she always does.”

Excitement blooming like roses, delicate tendrils flowering and budding, only to shrink and decay in negligence and absence the moment the Piltover Golden Pair gravitated towards each other.

“I, too, was ‘invited.” He gave a scoff. “Better yet—I would call it forced to come to this awful gala.” The lab partner leaned back against his chair, slumping in part agitation, in other part petulance. “And yet, here we are. Bitter, bored, and ignored.” He gave a humorless laugh at the wordplay. “Our presence being blinded over by their light. As if the whole world disappears when they are together.” He gave a thoughtful hum. Or maybe it was wistful. An age-old agony of longing that this man trapped in his bones, made part of him so thoroughly that it couldn’t even escape his lips.

A small part of Elora was intrigued by his…brazen statements. Baring these emotions to a stranger whose pain mirrors their own. How bold. Then again, it made Elora wonder just how easy she was to read in the first place. How long did this man watch Elora sigh and gaze in longing, drinking her sorrows in search of answers at the bottom of her glass, a wallflower in winter with the sun just across the room. Pathetically, perhaps this longing had been a part of her for so long, she hadn’t known how to untangle herself from it, noting it as nothing other than a day-to-day ache whose pain flared every now and again.

But this man saw it for what it was immediately and offered her a chance to hear those words out loud. To speak them out loud. Sympathize. Empathize. “Anyway—if you’d rather stay here, empty drink in hand, looking at them all night and sulking—go ahead.” Commiserate. The lab partner got to his feet, giving her a pointed look and an escape. “I’m getting wasted.”

The decision was easy then. 

Certainly, a superior alternative than her senseless yearning all by her lonesome. “I-I’ll come with—”

If only for a little while.

“Good,” he said, voice warming with relief as he headed towards the bar, the enticement to drown their sorrows leading them like moths to a flame. “Over this way, Ms. Elora.”

Time had gotten away from Jayce. It always did, during parties like these.

The lovely ambience, the lovely music, the lovely selection of wines and other spirits.

Of course, it was always lovely to see Mel.

But beneath the bright lights, the haze of grandeur and the intoxicating pull towards radiant golds and heartstopping smiles, there was a persistent nagging at the back of his head. It clicked when Viktor flickered at the corner of his vision, conversation going in one ear and out the other from Councilor Salo as Jayce gravitated towards the distinct silhouette of his partner. He thought he must have been seeing things, spying Viktor’s familiar, striking profile. His stomach dropped when he remembered—

He’d invited him.

Begged him to come.

Jayce sighed, face crumpling in guilt and disappointment. He’d gotten his lecture time and time again about dragging him here and then leaving him to fend for himself in the light of boredom and snooty Piltover aristocrats.

(Not that it ever really deterred Viktor from coming again anyways.)

But the figure following Viktor threw Jayce in for a loop.

Is that…a woman?

—Leaving with his Viktor?!

Viktor was right. This was loads better than sitting at the sidelines while Mel and Mr. Talis made eyes at one another.

If only because it was a fascinating sight, seeing Viktor unfurling like a bud in bloom, driven by nothing but the alcohol down his throat and the ire resonating in every bone in his body as he moved, dangerously close to teetering off the barstool.

“And then he went, ‘No, he’s my new PARTNER.’” Viktor gave wild gesticulations, emphasizing and elaborating with his hands the more the alcohol loosened his limbs. “Can you believe it, Ms. Elora?! The audacity!”

And his lips. “He didn’t even know you yet!” Elora laughed. 

Viktor made a pained noise, hanging his head low, face twisting in grievance. “I KNOW, he is so intense!”

Sounds like a nice problem to have. Viktor wasn’t keen on mincing words, getting straight to business with commiserating, which Elora was endlessly grateful for as Elora didn’t even know where to begin. Well, as long as Viktor was so keen on sharing…she might as well start here: “Honestly, I wish Mel could show me a side of her like that.” She gave a sad, empty smile.  

Sometimes, there were moments—moments where Mel’s walls fractured, never completely breaking, but just enough for Elora to peek at something beneath. But the moments pass all too quickly, fortified with barriers and dignified words and her confident posture that Elora thought it might as well have been her imagination.

She’d never wanted to see Mel hurt or fraught with tensions and anxieties—she knew how devastating her banishment was from her family. But the moment they stepped together into Piltover’s lands, something in Mel closed off, whether it was out of self-preservation or defiance to show the world anything less than a true Medarda. 

Elora only wished that she had been an exception—that she was trusted, cherished enough to be allowed to share her grief, half her burdens. 

“Sometimes, it’s better if they didn’t,” Viktor said quietly, breaking her spiraling thoughts. “It could. Misconstrue things.”

Elora sighed. “I just wish she could trust me—to let me in.”

“And what would you do if she did?” Viktor’s eyes were on her, pinning her like a specimen for study. “You’re already in her orbit. If she brought you closer, do you think you could escape unscathed?”

Ah. The alcohol has hit that part of his head already.

Or perhaps, his heart.

“Viktor…” Elora couldn’t help the sympathy bleeding into her voice; or perhaps more aptly, it was empathy, an echo of her own woes, the lines of their experiences almost running in parallel lines. And yet, in many ways, they diverged so drastically. “You were telling me you broke into Professor Heimerdinger’s lab?” she encouraged, before the sad haze in Viktor’s eyes settled there completely.

He snapped from the spell for a moment, or maybe it was just a mask falling over his façade. “O-Oh, yes, that’s right, now where was I—”

And lo and behold.

It was Viktor.

With a woman. 

Remarkable. Astonishing. Shocking! “Oh! Vik is—having a good time!” Jayce squalled, so full of merriment and happiness for his friend, he could barely keep his hand from breaking the fragile glass, cracks forming from his sheer, utter delight. 

One could not simply express the great and utter joy Jayce Talis was feeling at this moment. It rivaled hysteria, in all honesty! 

“GREAT!” He gave another loud guffaw, drawing the attention from onlookers and causing the circle of vultures—erm, investors—to take a few steps back in caution.

Not that it mattered! 

Investing his attention to his partner’s apparent merriment was far more important! Jayce continued his keen observation of the anomaly before him: “Wh—wha, is he laughing? Hahaha, IS HE?” It was a rare sight! Of course Jayce is showing nothing less than his full jubilation at Viktor so easily laughing the night away with this strange woman, offering another round of drinks, whispering something in her ear that sends her in a fit of giggles—and are Jayce’s ears ringing?

Is Jayce seeing things? Because it looks an awful lot like Viktor, his partner in friendship and science is—

“Is—is he flirting?” Heat burns on his cheeks, tingling unpleasantly as Jayce keeps a wide smile at the sticky-sweet scene before him, choking incredulously on his own sheer excitement: “Oh, god, Mel, is he?!”

Mel, ever-poised, raised her brows as she finally turned to what caused this sudden nervous breakdown in the Golden Boy. Shock had her hand flying to her mouth, her eyes widening and attempting to immediately regain composure and tamp out an immediate, violent response. “How—curious…” she settled.

Silence stretched between them.

“I wasn’t aware Elora knew your assistant.”

“Partner,” Jayce reflexively corrected with a firm, flat tone that none should ever raise to a Medarda. “Viktor is my partner,” and Mel patiently waited until the more pertinent part of her question finally clicked into place: “And I didn’t either.”

Mel continued, curiosity souring to distaste as Elora placed a hand on Viktor’s shoulder, giving an affectionate rub. All of a sudden, the sweetness of the wine was gone, leaving nothing but the bitter aftertaste. “Perhaps they’ve become acquainted tonight.”

“Incredible—incredible!” Jayce huffed, crossing his arms. “I leave him alone for a minute—and he goes off and makes a new best friend.”

Mel scoffed. Really. Jayce could be so dramatic. “Is that a bad thing?”

No. Jayce knew the correct answer to say.

But it wasn’t the answer he wanted to give.

“It was more than hovering, Ms. Elora…” Perhaps, Viktor had too much to drink tonight. “We were floating…flying.”

Not by his tales, but by the way melancholy, affection, and grief clung to every word. “It must have been magical.” 

Viktor laid his head against her shoulder. “…I still have that cog he sent to me.”

Elora rubbed his back in sympathetic, soothing motions. “That’s…” She gave a mirthless little chuckle, knowing it wouldn’t be ill-perceived. “A little sad, Viktor.”

Not with how tonight’s conversations have been going. “Hah…hah. I know.” He breathed out a sigh, savoring a secret part of a memory that he’d revisited again and again. “I know.”

Elora peered into her own glass, half-empty. “…I still kept the hairpin she gave me when we were younger,” she admitted quietly, her own nostalgia mirrored back to her. 

Viktor’s reflection joined her own. “That long for you?”

“I—” She didn’t know. She never really pinpointed a specific time and place when her feelings shifted from friendship to… “I’m honestly not sure.” Something more.

Unrequited, one-sided affection.

Viktor looked at her with an odd mix of drunken condolence, maudlin, and contemplation. “Then what are you sure of?”

‘That I fell in love with the same rain that drowns me.’ “That I really, really hate it when she asks me to come to these parties.”

Viktor huffed out a laugh, understanding completely. “Can never say no, right?” 

“Well, well!” Professor Heimerdinger grinned giddily beneath his wooly mustache, beholding the peculiar but promising sight of his former assistant not only partaking in this prestigious party, but plucking up the aplomb in picking up a partner for the evening! “I knew you had it in you, Viktor!”

Well, he really didn’t. This discovery was on par with the creation of Hextech, at least on the Professor’s personal scale.

Perhaps the chemistry between Jayce and Mel had finally rubbed off on him, aiding the dutiful and focused lad to branch out to new horizons, seeking new possibilities and new joys in his life aside from the marvels of sciences.

All important work to feed the brain! To the betterment of their people and for the sake of Progress, of course!

But oh, what else but love could feed the heart and soul?

“Oh…to be young and in love,” he sighed, watching as the young lady leaned against Viktor, lost in conversation, in their own tiny orbit about one other.

“We should probably leave,” Viktor finally said, his accent thick and words slightly slurring together.

Elora nodded, knowing her own shadow would have gotten sick of their commiseration by now. “Yes, agreed.” 

Elora straightened her posture and watched, raising a skeptical brow as Viktor blindly groped for the cane right next to him, muttering in frustration as motor skills failed him at the moment.

“Can you walk?” Elora asked, wincing as she forgot herself as Viktor spun in his chair, swaying like a branch in the breeze at the sudden movement.

“Pfft. Can I walk—!” he muttered with a tinge of disgust and disbelief. The expression was immediately wiped off his face after wobbling to his feet—and subsequently plopping onto the floor with all the elegance of a dead fish. “Perhaps…the answer is no.”

“Viktor! Here…” Elora took his hand, assisting Viktor to his feet. Once he was upright, she hooked his arm over her shoulder as she supported his torso. “Let me…”

Viktor, in a dizzied state, could only give an incredulous, self-deprecating laugh. “Thank you, Ms. Elora. For.” He tilted his head, as if seeking the right term in the bright lights above. “Indulging me,” he settled.  

“You don’t have to thank me.” Elora breathed out a laugh. “You’re right. I would have spent all night sulking,” she admitted with a bit of honesty. Viktor sent her a look. “P-Pining,” she admitted with more honesty.  

Viktor hummed in contemplation as he steadied himself with his cane. They walked forward. “Didn’t we do that all night, anyways?” And stumbled.

“Yes,” Elora laughed as they took firmer steps together. “But this time with a friend.”

Viktor chuckled, a raspy, breathy sound that almost sounded like a sob. “And that made it better?”

“That it did.”

Somewhere betwixt polite conversation with Council members and refusing to give the sinking feeling in his stomach a name, Jayce chanced another (50^th) glance to where Viktor sat in the last half-hour. Only to find the seat unoccupied of his partner and the lady he’d been cozying up to all night.

The sinking feeling grew to a sharp dive down a pit. “Where—where did Viktor go?”

“I’m not sure.” Mel frowned, finding the other empty seat at that corner of the bar far more worrying. “Elora was with her just a moment ago.” Far more of a priority. 

“I—I should find him,” Jayce muttered, weaving through the crowds in that single-minded way he always got when that partner of his was brought to the forefront. “Viktor!” he called, an uneasy panic bubbling in that pit. “Viktor!” he called again, searching for his familiar figure, a restlessness stirring in him with every passing moment.

“Jayce! Calm down,” Mel demanded, hastening her steps to match his speed.

At the very least, he hadn’t bolted in a full-blown sprint around the gala.

He was sure running over Professor Heimerdinger and potentially punting the petite Councilor wouldn’t earn him any distinguished innovators points. “Ah, Jayce, Mel! Always such a joy to see you two lovebirds on a night as fine as this!”

“Haha, it’s a pleasure to see you too, Professor Heimerdinger.” He sidestepped their miniature mentor as he approached the bar and found nothing to even gauge a guess as to where Viktor had gone. “Excuse me, did you happen to see—”

“Viktor?” The Professor gave a jaunty chortle. “My, my, I never thought him the type, but it appears he’s absconded into the night.”

“Oh no…” Jayce groaned. Well. Here comes another week of cold shoulders and bearing through the cruel and unusual modes of Viktor’s vengeance—

Namely, his partner stealing all the good chalk and leaving Jayce with hollowed-out, brittle pieces that break with even the slightest touch. “He’s gonna be so upset. I just left him out here all this time, even after I begged him to come, I—”

“Not to worry, Jayce! I’m sure he rather enjoyed himself this evening.” As the Professor’s grin grew, so did the pit at Jayce’s stomach. “And will continue to enjoy his evening with that young lady of his…”

“WHAT?!” he blurted, a yell choked from his throat. 

Heads swiveled. Brows raised. Eyes widened. Whispers followed.

Mel frowned.

“Ah, perhaps I’ve said too much,” the Professor chuckled. “Don’t mind me!” he called, retreating into the crowd with a skip in his step, humming to a wordless tune as his words carved themselves into the deepest sulci of Jayce’s right hemisphere.

“…Mel, did Viktor really just leave with Elora.”

Mel gave a deep, irritated sigh, if only to mask her concern. “If…Professor Heimerdinger’s account is to be trusted.” 

“Great,” Jayce croaked, despite feeling far from it. “Great.”

Chapter Text

There was a growing pit of dread in Jayce’s stomach; this was not unusual after a gala, after he belatedly realized he’d failed yet another promise to his partner. He hated the growing tension as he approached the lab, the sanctuary and the foundation of the dreams he and Viktor created together. It was a safe space for the both of them.

But every morning after a gala, it feels like Jayce violated that peace somehow.

This morning was different, however, because what met Jayce at the lab was not cold shoulders, colder glares, annoyed huffing, and stretched, terse silence,

What met him was Viktor,

Acting as if the night before hadn’t happened at all.

His partner hummed under his breath, greeting Jayce with a nod of acknowledgement when he came through the door, already elbows-deep in work to “catch up” to self-ascribed deadlines. From a glance, Viktor was finishing the circuitry for the Hexclaw. The scent of sweet milk wafted through the air, still warm enough for Jayce to see the steam rise from Viktor’s mug.

Jayce paused. 

Viktor was using his own today. The one with the tiny chip at the bottom when there was Jayce’s perfectly serviceable mug left somewhere in the cupboard.

(Viktor purchased “The Man of Progress” mug for him as a joke. The joke was that Viktor now used it more than Jayce himself. But not today though,

And Jayce didn’t like the way it unsettled something behind his ribs.)

While Viktor started his day with sweet milk, Jayce decided to start his day by eating the frog. “How did you get home?”

“Carriage.” Viktor said it so casually that it lit every one of Jayce’s nerves on fire.

Jayce decided to eat the eyes first. “I, uh, heard you met Elora. Last night.” Then the rest of it. “Mel’s assistant,” he croaked. 

“Hm,” Viktor voiced, something of a filler, something to occupy the space, the uneasy distance between their typical banter. “I wonder if that's how Councilor Medarda refers to me. As your assistant.”

“What—no!” Actually, yes. “And that’s not the point,” Jayce added, pouring his own coffee and setting down his own ‘Man of Progress’ mug with irritation. The irritation only grew as his coffee traitorously splashed all over his notes.

Viktor let out a breath and Jayce felt a pang of guilt as Viktor’s mood shifted, turning sour and curdling as his humming stopped, the little rhythm Viktor’s body moved to while working slowing to a halt. “Yes,” he said simply. “We talked and had drinks together.”

An unpleasant sensation coiled tightly within Jayce at the confirmation, festering behind his ribs. “Good!” Jayce said, voice at least 2 octaves higher than necessary, which was a clear indication that Jayce didn’t think so. 

Viktor turned to him with a raised brow, concern written on his face that not even Jayce’s goggles could obscure. 

“Good,” Jayce said, voice lowering to its normal tone, as that something in his chest unraveled at the commonplace sight of Viktor stealing his work equipment.

“Mhm.” Viktor didn’t sound convinced but was merciful enough not to press the issue. That was one of the reasons why Jayce appreciated Viktor. He didn’t push. “It was a good evening,” Viktor admitted. “Likely the most, ah, interesting night I’ve had in those horrible galas.”

Viktor was also mercilessly honest when it suited him.

Jayce felt his insides twist again, knots forming all the way from his gut to the frog in his throat. “Was it?” Jayce forced a chuckle. “I’m glad to hear it!”

Viktor nodded and well—

That was that.

End of story!

Nothing further to add.

Business as usual.

Tentatively, Jayce picked up a piece of chalk, finding his half-abandoned work on the board from the other day. The lines of notes and formulas strung together almost illegibly to where Jayce struggled to find where one ended and where another began.

Actually–

When was the last time he worked on this? Surely, it was just the other day…

Or had he been preparing his speech for another meeting with investors? Another evening and another soiree? 

Another gala?

A date with Mel? 

Jayce frowned. Surely he hadn’t been that preoccupied right? His work at Hextech was the most important part of his life! And—it wasn’t a bad thing to immerse himself in other aspects of it. Enjoy other pleasures that life had to offer, no matter how Viktor rolled his eyes at the necessary evils of networking.

Besides, Viktor enjoyed himself last night too, didn’t he? 

Viktor looked up from his work, a frown on his lips. “Jayce? Are you all right?” 

“I’m fine!” 

By the time the noise Jayce made reached his own ears, it had already been too late. What was that, what was that—

Viktor shrugged, the picture of nonchalance. “If you’re sure.” Well, as nonchalant as once could be while soldering circuitry for highly experimental technology. 

“I am!” Jayce insisted. “We both had a great night! What’s not to love?” Jayce felt like he needed to add. 

Before Jayce had any more time to ruminate over his very visceral reactions to the social anomaly of his partner enjoying a gala (with someone!), Viktor blissfully interjected and subsequently ejected that train of thought: “Yes. Better than being left to fend for myself all night.”

Oh right. 

“Viktor, I’m sorry.” The groveling was immediate, Jayce abandoning the board in lieu of pleading for forgiveness before—

The chalk broke in half, right in his hand.

Jayce examined the remaining piece in his palm. 

The inside was hollowed out.

Jayce picked up another piece, only for it to crumble into dust at the slightest touch. Then another. And in the next box too. From across the lab, Viktor hummed, the picture of nonchalance. 

“HOW DO YOU KEEP DOING THAT?!”

Viktor continued soldering, barely glancing in Jayce’s direction. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Fine!” Jayce grabbed a pen and snatched one of his notebooks. “I’ll just use—”

There was no ink.

Not in the pens in the spare drawer, and not in Jayce's own secret stash he’d compiled for this exact scenario either.

Viktor continued his work, entirely unfettered as Jayce tore through the supply drawers. “Lost something, Jayce?” he asked with a petty lilt to his voice.

My goddamn mind. Jayce knew he’d be groveling for the rest of the week with pastries and sweet milk so Viktor would stop Cursing him with his obnoxious and odd brand of revenge.

Still, Jayce felt the knots loosening at this familiarity, the casual jabs and jibes they dug at one another like nothing else existed outside of the walls of their lab. And as much of a little goblin Viktor could be at his pettiest,

Jayce also knew that he was the only one privy to this side of Viktor. That there were parts of his enigmatic partner of several years that no one else would ever get to see. This included the sheer delight in his partner’s amber eyes at the sight and smell of his favorite pastries courtesy of his favorite person—

Despite himself, it was never a begrudging thing to seek Viktor’s forgiveness. Not when Jayce had the opportunity to make him happy. 

Jayce will have to pay the bakery a visit soon. Viktor had forgiven him in a record-breaking two minutes after the first few bites (as Viktor was likely contemplating if his pride outweighed the rest of the sweets Jayce was offering in favor of absolution).

Maybe he’ll bring Mel too and she can help him pick out something new to surprise Viktor with.

Days went by.

The offers of sweets and pastries were a rousing success and miraculously, graciously, the chalks soon held their structure and the pens flowed with ink once more.

Jayce took note of Viktor’s favorites for, ah, future reference: the cakes and buns filled with jam were devoured within the morning hours; the pies were decidedly skipped over for the donuts; the ones with the cream filling were an obvious preference. Jayce scribbled down his observations in his notes and stowed the information away for his next excursion to his favorite bakery; for the next time he wanted (and needed) to indulge his partner. 

Viktor appeared interested in a novel addition: a custard dessert with the berries. Rich, decadent, with the fruits adding a freshness to balance the flavors. Jayce commented that had been a new item on the menu,

And had become Mel’s favorite, so of course Jayce had to buy them.

His humming stopped, the little rhythm Viktor’s body moved to while working slowing to a halt. 

Viktor only made a noncommittal sound, as if Jayce’s words had barely flitted through his thoughts as he continued to work on the Hexclaw schematics.And perhaps Viktor had eaten too much of the pastries already because the box was left only half-empty by the end of the day, the rest of the treats untouched.

Likewise, the subject of Viktor’s night with Elora was left untouched, and things soon fell back into their typical routines. With a weary sigh, Jayce felt peace fall over them at last. 

At least, Jayce learned of another gala on the horizon. 

This was nothing new, hardly out of the norm for the upper crust of Piltover, where Jayce suddenly found himself amongst. And while Jayce would typically broach the topic of Viktor’s attendance, even when he expected a refusal, a part of Jayce hesitated.

It was easy enough to refrain from informing Viktor of the event. After all, on top of Viktor’s typical grievances with Piltover galas, this one also boasted a costumed theme on top of the typical luxurious affair. No doubt, this would lend Viktor expectedly hemming and hawing over Piltover’s unchecked addiction to excess and extravagance. Jayce knew his partner and knew Viktor would be entirely uninterested!

Jayce also knew this was a very convenient excuse for him to hide behind.

And due to its convenience offering Jayce an escape from confronting those confusing and uncomfortable emotions, Jayce shelved the thought of seeing Viktor at another gala,

With Elora,

Away, to never behold the light of day ever again.

After all, it was all a one-off!

A fluke!

It was nothing to worry about!

It’s not like Viktor and Elora will be meeting regularly from now on! 

So Jayce said nothing of it and hoped those anomalous feelings from that anomalous night buried themselves with fine wine and a date with Councilor Medarda. 

That would surely set his thoughts back in a straight line!

“Viktor, my boy!”

Viktor barely glanced up from his work, his response reflexive: “Jayce has retired for the day, Professor.”

And when he left, he took the sun with him. Lamplight provided a paltry source for warmth; shadows made even less for company at dusk.

Certainly, they made for better welcomed guests than the Dean of Piltover Academy.

The Professor chuffed out a laugh. “I noticed. I’m also not here for young Mr. Talis.” He approached Viktor with purposeful little steps, no doubt in an attempt to draw away Viktor’s concentration from his work. “Are you aware of the upcoming gala at the end of the week?”

“No.”

Such staunch spurning! The Professor coughed, trying again: “Well, if you happen to be interested—”

“Which I am not,” Viktor repeated with an adamant finality.

“—Ah, that’s quite a shame.” Drat. He’d almost forgotten how stubborn Viktor could be when it came to avoiding social gatherings. There had to be some way to subtly guide this young lad towards the romance he so desperately needed! “I know Councilor Medarda will be there…alongside her lovely assistant.”

Heimerdinger’s little Yordle heart soared for a good two seconds as Viktor raised his head, lowering the pen in his hands to glance at him, a look of clear surprise on his face—before: “I’m sure Miss Elora and Councilor Medarda will have an enjoyable night without my presence, Professor.”

“A-ah, but—” I’m doing this for your own good, you know! “I simply must insist on your attendance, Viktor!”

Viktor sent him a skeptical look, and Heimerdinger just knew the next words out of his mouth were With all due respect, Professor—but this wasn’t respectful at all!

Not when it was Heimerdinger fighting for Viktor’s own opportunity for romance!

“It won’t do to keep yourself cooped up in this lab for all your waking hours,” he insisted. “Even Jayce will be in attendance with Miss Medarda—”

“I thought you said she was arriving with Miss Elora?” Viktor interjected, a sharpness in his tone that was wholly unexpected.

“I mean, well, yes,” Heimerdinger stammered.

In the dim lamplight, with shadows casting over his face, the mask of unassuming politeness slipped just a fraction. Viktor was looking at him with a calculated gaze and Heimerdinger was soon reminded just why he’d placed Viktor under his guidance years ago. He was intelligent, yes, and incredibly talented, but Viktor had a natural drive of dangerous curiosity and ambition that uprooted both caution and hierarchy.

And just like before, Heimerdinger attempted to steer him on the right path. “Truth be told, my boy, this gala is rather special—it’s meant for, ah. Pairs.”

“Pairs.” There was a flicker of contemplation as Viktor echoed his words.

Heimerdinger brightened. “Pairs! Err—couples, one might say!” He gave a little chuckle, even tossing in a wink for good luck.

Come on now, Viktor,

Heimerdinger can only play fairy godmother for so long! What did he want, a pumpkin carriage and glass slippers to boot?! Not that glass slippers would be advisable—no use endangering his good leg.

Viktor turned the thought over in his head as Professor Heimerdinger bounced on his heels in anticipation. Visions of attending a simple, sweet wedding of his ex-assistant’s as Viktor finally fell into the arms of a beautiful lady was either going to vanish up in smoke or manifest into the corporeal! 

It all hinged on Viktor’s final decision: 

“…very well, Professor,” Viktor said simply. “I thank you for the invitation.”

“Marvellous!” Heimerdinger gave a series of claps, excitement making his fur stand on end. “With ample time to assemble a bewitching ensemble to boot!” He turned heel, the bubbling enthusiasm of performing a selfless act of goodwill lightening his diminutive steps, and completely missed Viktor’s mystified expression. “I eagerly await your attendance, my boy!”

“Ensemble?” Viktor parroted, anxiety skyrocketing. “What do you mean ensemble? Professor?”  

When Viktor finished the Hexclaw, he was coming after Heimerdinger first.

“You cannot be serious,” Viktor hissed.

Elora shot him an incredulous look before bursting into a fit of giggles. This did nothing to sweeten Viktor’s sour mood as he sat there, arms crossed upon the plush settee of Elora’s private quarters. “Did you really accept the invitation without knowing?” she called, sifting between racks of clothes in the chaotically organized space. “It’s a themed event!” she voiced from somewhere behind a mass of fabric.

“Apologies, I prefer not to waste my time and energy on gossip of the latest gala trends,” he sniffed. “And you were invited by the Professor as well?”

Elora nodded, half-paying him mind as she stalked through a row of clothes stands. “I was! It was quite unexpected. Mel hadn’t even told me about it—otherwise, we wouldn’t be doing this last-minute.”

Elora hadn’t mentioned she practiced tailoring. And was quite an accomplished hobbyist, by the state of her room with its rows of racks of garments, scattered spools of thread, a small army of razor-sharp shears occupied the sewing table, while a half-finished project pinned to a mannequin stood idly by.

Then again, they hadn’t really had too much time for personal discussion when they’d met. Not that kind of personal discussion, anyways.

Elora pulled out a garment, inspecting it from behind the bastion of linens, cottons, and satins. She held out a pantsuit attire, the shades ranging between rich coffee and Yordle Professors. “What do you think?”

Viktor barely glanced at it before shaking his head. “Too plain.” He chuckled at the affront he was met with as Elora inspected the attire with a sniff, laying it over her form. “What? Do you truly believe this will catch Councilor Medarda’s attention? I thought the goal was to dress to impress.”

Affront melted to shock, embarrassment, and indignation. “Viktor!”

Viktor scoffed as he leaned forward on his cane, brows raising in that infuriating way that told Elora he’d been observing her like a bug under a microscope. “Your intentions are as transparent as this gala theme is gaudy.”

Elora flushed vividly before ducking her head in embarrassment. “That obvious, huh?”

“One would hope so. Perhaps some…transparency will give your Mel a second look.” Viktor stood from his seat, curiosity piquing at a shimmering ensemble tucked away on another clothing rack, nearly enveloped by a series of discarded projects.

“I highly doubt that,” Elora said, voice softening with resignation as she trailed after Viktor. “She’ll be going with Mr. Talis.”

Viktor paused, fury spiking within him.

So, this was it then? This was what they were destined to? To accompany one another and drown their sorrows gala after gala, dance after dance, until death do the Golden Couple of Piltover part? Drinking wine and sharing slivers of their broken hearts and sob stories, pining and yearning the merry night away? Well, sure—that was fun the first time, but Viktor was sure he might just fall through the cracks of madness if they’d succumbed to such pitiful levels at every insufferable event the Piltover elites used to show off their glittering, gilded worlds of obnoxious ostentation.

Especially since Jayce, Mel, Heimerdinger, and the rest of the known universe seemed hellbent on putting them through trial after trial.

Viktor examined the garment in his hands, holding it up to Elora and nodding at the vision forming in his thoughts. “Then we’ll just have to find something to make her regret that decision.”

Elora flushed as she took the glittering low-neck jumpsuit with its flowing, slitted pants, laying it over her and turning towards the mirror. “O-oh, well, this piece, I made for a—” She blinked in confusion as Viktor began combing through accessories and digging through her drawers in search of— “What’s gotten into you?”

What indeed? 

Viktor had not only learned of this wretched gala from the Professor of all people, but Jayce had—

Hadn’t even told him about it. Sure! He didn’t blame his partner. After all, Viktor hated these functions and never made his thoughts and feelings of the matter subtle either. And yet, and yet—Jayce never deterred from pleading and false promises.

What changed?

Surely nothing in Viktor’s regard for these garish gatherings—the only reason he’d accepted the professor’s invitation was to ensure Miss Elora didn’t spend the entirety of the evening by her lonesome as Councilor Medarda abandoned her for Jayce’s company.

And yet,

And yet,

The fact that Jayce and Mel had both deferred their typical demands for their attendance had the faintest alarm bells ringing.

This gala is rather special. For—

Pairs.

What’s gotten into him, indeed.

Perhaps indignation.

Perhaps jealousy.

And perhaps a little bit of insanity dressed in courage’s clothing.

After all,

“This one.” He nodded in affirmation, offering an array of trinkets and trappings in a familiar shade of gold. Viktor bore a confidence in his smile that he only ever reserved for his most dangerous experiments. “You’ll look ravishing, Miss Elora.”

What have they got to lose?

Elora nodded brushing aside her fluster. “Well, if you’re insisting, then I have a surprise for you too! To be on theme,” she giggled as she retreated to a large wardrobe.

When she retrieved a garment bag over her arm, Viktor regarded her with the same caution he used with unstable, volatile materials that threatened to explode in his face. “What do you have there? El…?”

Except—this was much worse. “I got you an outfit for tonight’s gala!” she beamed.

“No, a-absolutely not!” Viktor stammered.

“Please! Oh come on Viktor, you can’t expect me to do this myself!” Elora pleaded. “Like Professor Heimerdinger said, this gala is for pairs!”

“Enough—okay, okay.” Viktor sighed. Elora dropped the ensemble in Viktor’s arms and he observed it with the anticipation that it might rear up and attack him. “But that just means you’ll wear whatever I pick in the end.”

Elora nodded. “As long as we stay in theme! We can even match!”

Viktor scoffed, though it came out more as a chuckle. “Like a pair?”

“Like a pair,” Elora affirmed. 

This party had been exactly what Jayce needed to reset.

He needed clarity in the form of routine: of the expected; of the same empty, vapid smiles around him; of the rich alcohols and dainty hors d'oeuvres that never satisfy; of political talk and social engagements that unsettled his people-pleasing heart; of the same glamorous and gorgeous Mel Medarda on his arm, laughing and smiling so prettily that it made Jayce difficult to see anything beyond her beauty and charm.

Even if the attire differed somewhat today.

They followed the dress code to stunning results, despite the slight alteration in their trademark colors. Mel glowed with grace, the embodiment of moonlight reflected where her gleaming golds once painted her body. The dark silver of her dress shimmered like stars with a celestial headpiece and Jayce found her breathtaking.

In suitable contrast, Jayce was dressed as the sun to her moon, the golds providing complement in a unified theme with the golden accents of the corset and shoulder piece to the white of his dress shirt and pants. Mel had even convinced him to dye his forelock a brilliant gold.

It felt right, it felt stable, the embodiment of balance, and for once in the past few weeks, Jayce felt symmetry, equilibrium return to him.

And then, came the hushed whispers. A crowd of eyes drawn to a pair’s emergence to the gala, the two trailing after an excited, prattling Professor Heimerdinger who welcomed them with eagerness.  

Jayce’s breath caught, stolen completely from his lungs in such haste that it left his brain dizzy and suddenly starved as all molecular energy focused on processing the before him:

Viktor, dressed to the nines in a stunning ensemble of a flowing silver blouse that glimmered beneath the nebula-blue night of a coat hanging over his shoulders, a shroud of constellations over his shoulder,

Birth of a star,

Or a bursting galaxy set upon the embrace of space.

He even styled his hair, Jayce faintly noted, the side-part somehow hammering home that to survive this sudden cosmic shift that once more threw Jayce off-orbit and careening into depths unknown,

He was going to need alcohol.

Oh.

And of course, if that weren’t enough,

Elora was there by his side,

A galactic punch to his gut as he saw how well the two paired with one another in their matching, glittering silvers and whites like clusters of stardust, the golds of her hairpins and the constellations of golds on her wrap—

“Don’t…don’t they look lovely,” Mel murmured, her voice sounding distant.

Jayce agreed. There was no use in denying that. But he couldn’t help but feel that Viktor would have looked even lovelier in shades of red and gold instead.

…All right, Jayce was going to need a lot of alcohol.

Viktor might actually be one of the craziest people Elora’s ever met—

Picking this outfit of all things. Elora flushed heavily. Wasn’t—wasn’t it a bit too obvious?! Wearing Mel’s colors so boldly—

It was like,

Like Elora was begging for Mel to look at her!

(To see that she belonged to her)

All the while, Viktor was scoping out the gala, eyes trained on the crowd. “Where’s Jayce?” he’d muttered, and that told Elora all she needed to know.

It looks like Elora wasn’t the only one looking to dress to impress today.

Elora had to admit—she really outdid herself! Viktor looked stunning, and if Jayce wasn’t head-over-heels with his stunning partner (currently Elora’s pretty pair), then she’d take personal offense to it immediately!

When they caught Mel and Jayce going their separate ways, it was Elora that gave Viktor a little push (trying to be mindful of his balance on his crutch) towards the drinks where Jayce had meandered off to, while Elora had her eyes trained on Mel as she departed towards the balcony.

“Good luck out there,” Viktor whispered, an encouraging smile on his lips.

Elora gave him a terrified but grateful smile. “You too! Break a leg—I mean—!”

Viktor chuckled, faux pas forgiven as he waved her off.

Heart in her throat, Elora made confident strides towards the balcony, hoping, praying, that she could hold her composure now that she finally had a chance to speak with Mel alone.

There, framed in the moonlight, Mel was absolutely ethereal, divinity in mortal trappings in the sinful way her dress clung to her curves. Elora was already feeling heat rise to her cheeks, heart in her throat as she fought to swallow it down, hoping it’d settle behind her ribs where it could behave in its cage before she put her foot in her mouth again.

Especially as Mel turned, cocking her head just slightly in surprise at her appearance, yet appearing pleased all the same. “You look stunning tonight, Elora.” Those hazel eyes gave a sweep of her form, from top to bottom, and Elora felt herself suddenly lightheaded. “Those colors suit you well.”

A compliment! On the colors! “R-really, Mel?” On Elora wearing HER colors!

She could kiss Viktor right now. All his bullying to get her to accessorize with gold actually paid off. “Aw—erm, thank you! Viki picked this out for me!” she said, bright pink dusting her cheeks, completely glossing over the sudden flash of suspicion and irritation across Mel’s dignified features. “Y-You too!” she stammered, eyes earnest. “You look beautiful, as always!”

“…Viki?” Mel (demanded) asked, her voice calm and bordering interrogation as she leaned against the balcony railing.

Elora giggled, recalling the exchange. “Oh, it’s just a dumb nickname I call Viktor—”

“He picked it?” Mel asked, her voice tight. 

“Oh yes!” Well, rather, he disregarded Elora’s picks in favor of something more extravagant and lightly coerced his way into getting Elora into colors that hit a…bit too close to home with Mel.

But he argued that was the point.  

Well then, why don’t you wear something in Jayce’s colors then?

I already do. Have been for years. I don’t think he cares that much about it.

But you think Mel will?

Your Mel is the richest woman in Piltover. Perhaps it will open her eyes when she sees a treasure from her trove out unsupervised tonight.

Elora burned red at that. “We decided to dress each other, and it was so different from what I had envisioned at first, but Viki was just so pushy about using this color scheme, and—”  And so, Elora rambled, a bit too openly, if only to give outlet to the giddy little happiness from Mel’s sweet words. 

.

Mel nodded, begrudgingly agreeing with Viki’s vision. “He did…a good job.”

Not that Mel needed Viktor’s eyes to see how beautiful Elora would be in such apparel. She’d tried to convince her for years, goading her and buying her dresses and skirts of all sorts that would flatter her figure over the years, to adorn Elora in something new, something that Mel had unquestionably known would make her best friend irrationally ravishing—

But Elora always evaded her, casting Mel’s choices as merely too feme for her tastes.

And yet, it took Viki’s simple word and here she suddenly appeared, a goddess before her.

Mel schooled her features to a calm, blank slate as she nodded along to Elora’s peppy prattling while an ugly emotion swirled within her.

If Mel were a lesser woman, she would have called it jealousy.

Viktor was well aware that Jayce was a rather affectionate drunk. He was an affectionate man in general, with his casual intimacies that never failed to make Viktor’s touch-starved body yearn for an ounce of that warmth to carry with him always.

He was also a very chatty drunk.

Those lovely honeyed eyes were unfocused, a looseness in the way he held himself as he laid a hand over Viktor’s shoulders, eyes roaming over his form indulgently. “Wow…Viktor, you…wow.”

The warmth from where Jayce touched, where his eyes trailed along Viktor’s body spread through him and deep into the marrow of his bones. It was hard not to get his hopes up. Even through the years of mishaps and misunderstandings, Jayce had never looked at him with this kind of intensity,

With this kind of desire.  

“What is it Jayce?” he asked, voice soft, leaning closer, drawn to Jayce’s brilliance, the light that beckoned to him like a moth to a flame.

Jayce was silent for a moment and Viktor held his breath, 

Hoping, 

Stupidly, madly,

Hoping. 

“Those colors,” Jayce said finally.

Viktor blinked. That was unexpected. “What about them?”

.

Jayce was fairly sure he was drunk. Like, unapologetically and irresponsibly drunk. The kind of drunk that was still stable enough to stand on two legs, but definitely the kind that should not be trusted to carry a conversation, let alone his own emotions.

As it were, Jayce stood there on two legs, next to his partner. Said partner who Jayce was currently conversing with. Said partner that Jayce was carrying many, many emotions towards. His gorgeous partner, looking so very gorgeous tonight in such a gorgeous getup and his hair done up that makes his pretty face so gorgeous—

Right.

Jayce had a point somewhere.

“Those colors…” he repeated. It bears repeating, after all.

“What about them?” gorgeous Viktor asked, voice soft and sultry.

And yet, Jayce couldn’t help but make an astute observation that something was off—something was amiss, something proved a fatal flaw to the gorgeous vision before him:

The colors were all wrong.

It was a simple, scientific fact. An observation found amongst the observable universe as Jayce observed Viktor like the very center of his universe, and found the lack of Talis Gold and Red on his gorgeous form to be alarmingly and painfully,

Wrong.

These conclusions, however, were meant to be what polite company called “inside thoughts.”

But there was no polite company to be had tonight, as inhibitions were low and Jayce’s mad-dog jealousy (“It’s weird not to see you in my colors”) fought tooth and nail with Jayce’s heartstruck ogling (“Make you look so pretty tonight”) to forge the best response to gorgeous Viktor’s question. 

“Jayce?” gorgeous Viktor asked, a furrow in his brow that didn’t belong there, shouldn’t be on his gorgeous face, marring it with useless worry because Jayce had the answer!

He had settled on a compromise between the two wolves warring within him—

“Make you look pretty weird tonight, Vik.”

And there it was!

A sublime solution, eloquent! Elegant! Really gets the point across! “So much—” Jayce slurred, rubbing gorgeous Viktor’s shoulder. Or maybe he was trying to paw it off, the midnight hue with its…blasted gorgeous constellation motifs on it, didn’t suit his partner at all—

“Let go of me.”

The sheer cold in his voice sobered Jayce instantly. “What?” And suddenly Viktor turned from him, the deafening thud of his cane against the marble floors echoing as Jayce reached out. “—why? Viktor?”

She was floating on air.

Elora giggled, the red on her cheeks becoming a near-permanent stain on her skin after she replayed Mel’s words over and over again.

Any more and she might actually burst like a gassed up balloon. Mel was soon drawn away by a business associate and while Elora had visibly deflated at that, the promise Mel made to see her later tonight for a glass of wine together quickly sent her hopes (and her ego) skyrocketing.

It was—

It was such a small thing. Some conversation and a promise to share a drink.

And maybe it was the romantic in her, but the allure, the possibility, the promise for more was greater than any expectation Elora had ever thought possible.

And against all wretched odds,

It left her hoping.

Stupidly, madly, 

Hoping.

So, she hoped Viktor would forgive her as she kicked the balcony door open with great enthusiasm, likely startling her reticent friend with a hard-won battle cry: “VIKI, HOLY FUCK!” she squealed. “You wouldn’t believe—”

For a moment, perhaps she’d been directed to the wrong balcony.

It wasn’t until the hunched statue over the railing became a more familiar figure in the moonlight did Elora realize that something was wrong. “Viktor…?” she asked tentatively, approaching cautiously, deliberately. “What happened?”

Viktor was quiet.

And that scared Elora more.

No smart quip. No earnest encouragement. No caustic honesty. No fortune-cookie wisdom.

Just Viktor, alone in the moonlight, whispering so softly that it was almost entirely drowned out by the silent stream of tears staining his cheeks. “It’s…useless, Elora.” His voice sounded so brittle, so broken, as if it couldn’t carry the weight of his words. “All this.”

Jayce had somehow wandered back to her, appearing sullen and quite drunk.

Mel had a hunch it had something to do with that lab assistant of his, who, at this time, was nowhere to be found.

It was curious.

Whenever Jayce happened to recall his coworker’s existence, he had this frantic look about him that never failed to mystify. But it seemed that Jayce had concluded his search for now in lieu of pouring himself another glass.

“Fine wine, isn’t it?” Mel asked mildly.

Jayce hummed. “I s’pose it is…but. Not really why I‘m—”

“TALIS.”

Mel brightened. “Oh, Elora!” Right before she registered the tone and the cross features on her best friend’s face.

“Hm?” Jayce said, mid-gulp of a lovely burgundy courtesy of their host.

A lovely burgundy that Jayce now had the honor of wearing all over his white suit.

“THAT’S—” Elora huffed, restraining herself from saying further as she settled on hissing out: “That’s what you get!”

And just as suddenly, Elora turned on her heel and stomped away, the image of an enraged goddess smiting down a heretic, drawing a crowd of curious and scandalized guests parting in waves as she disappeared back into the crowd.

This—

This was entirely out of character for her! Her Elora would never cause such a disruption! Especially in her presence!

“What did I do…?” Jayce whimpered, shell-shocked and genuinely concerned. Perhaps the alcohol had blocked the memory, or slowed his thought processes. 

No matter, Mel would wring the apparent insult he inflicted on her best friend out of him. “What did you do, Jayce?!”

Elora sighed, meeting Viktor’s disappointed gaze with her own pleading eyes.

A contest of attrition, as Elora’s impulsive affront warred with Viktor’s critical judgement. Viktor had watched the whole thing unfold before his very eyes, before his tears had even fully dried, as Elora made a spectacle of herself for—

For what, exactly?

A moment of insanity, perhaps. 

Cracking beneath the pressure, Elora winced. “Sorry for making a scene…” knowing full well that it wasn’t Viktor he should be apologizing to, but like hell she was sending her regards to Jayce Talis after this—this mess of an evening and ruining her friend’s night!

And in all honesty, she was also upset that Jayce insulted her choice of dress—Viktor was a vision, damnit!

Elora’s vision come true!

Not that Viktor even cared. “That was absolutely unnecessary!” he berated and Elora felt herself sink beneath the floor; after the adrenaline wore off, after the hopeful night of Mel’s sweet words, her attention trained on Elora and Elora alone as they talked beneath the starlight,

Elora had gone and ruined it all by throwing wine all over Mel’s date.

Because Jayce Talis insulted her friend and made him feel sad.

.

Viktor’s eyes softened. In truth, he’d just wanted to slink away, nurse his wounds, and pretend this night never happened. Just as he always did. But thanks to Elora, there was no chance of that happening.

Because Elora had just done what no one else had ever done for Viktor, not even Viktor himself: 

In a moment of madness, and without regard to propriety and proper company, had seen his hurt and done something about it. Had made of a spectacle of herself, had endangered her own reputation and nearly self-sabotaged her own night after a successful encounter with the woman she loves—

All because Viktor cried on her shoulder.

“But…I must thank you, El,” Viktor said, voice soft, affectionate and fond. She looked up at him in confusion, as if she had no idea what she’d just done for Viktor. And maybe she didn’t know. And maybe that was what made her all the more special. “Here.” He draped his coat over her shoulders. It’s not like he’ll be needing it for the rest of the night.

She adjusted the coat to fit comfortably, her eyes never leaving Viktor’s. “Viki…”

“I saw Mel going to the garden.” He cast his gaze to the lantern-lit scene, abundant with blooms and plenty of romantic splendor. “Have fun, you deserve it,” he reassured her.

Just because his unrequited romance was doomed,

Didn’t mean that Elora’s was.

“And…where will you go?”

Viktor shrugged. “Back to the lab, I suppose.”

Elora frowned. “Viktor, you shouldn’t be working this late. You should go home and rest.” Gently, she added “And…maybe we can meet again soon. There’s—there’s this bakery I’ve been meaning to try.”

Viktor chuckled. “I…maybe. Sometime soon, then.”

She smiled, sweet and stunning. “I look forward to it, Viki.”

“Good luck, El,” Viktor said, watching her steel herself, calming fraying nerves with excited smiles and a haste in her step.

That was all Viktor could hope for. That sweet and kind and lovely Elora wouldn’t have to suffer such a pathetic, painful love all by her lonesome.

Viktor and Elora were talking again. Jayce glowered at the sight of Viktor draping his coat over Elora’s bare shoulders as the night air made her visibly shiver. How courteous! How droll. What a perfect gentleman Viktor could be!

Not that Jayce would know! Not when his partner stalked off without a single word!

He’s never offered ME his jacket.

And that, perhaps, was a sign that Jayce was too far gone. Because there was no universe in which any clothing of Viktor’s would fit over Jayce’s broader and taller figure.

The other way around, however—

The wine definitely struck something in his head, keeping his eyes glued to the pair. Or more precisely, Viktor. And the backless blouse Viktor was wearing—

A delicacy. He’d never even seen those moles before...and ah, the memory of his scent…sweet, like milk and tea…

But now all Jayce can smell is the wine staining his blouse.

Had he been more sober, Jayce would have at least made some effort to curb his, ah, observational study of his partner.

Unfortunately, Professor Heimerdinger, who had apparently manifested by his side, seemed engrossed in his own set of observations. “Oh-ho, the beginning of such young LOVE is such a wonderful thing to witness.” He turned to Jayce, blissfully oblivious to the utter ruin he’d wrought. “Don’t you think, my boy?” he tittered in absolute, ignorant glee.

Ignorant to the way Jayce’s whole world just tilted against its natural axis. 

“Love?!” Jayce hissed, feeling the very ground beneath him open in a ghastly maw, threatening to swallow him beneath the earth, doomed to fall in endless torment and peril. “Is…Viktor in love?!”

“Well!” the Professor chuckled. “What else would you call it?”

Elora insisted on Viktor going straight home, yet Viktor’s feet carried him here.

It was far too quiet in his dusty old apartment anyways. Mauldin minds sought destruction in the quiet of solitude. At least in the lab, he had other problems to occupy his thoughts.

Though it seemed Viktor had other problems occupying the lab as well.

“Jayce?” Viktor closed his notebook. Not that he had the focus to occupy his thoughts with anything other than the disastrous night anyhow.

Said source of the disaster lumbered towards him, steps uneven in an unkempt dance. “V…Vik, I—”

Viktor frowned. “What are you doing here?”

It was ridiculous because—this lab was theirs. Their shared space. But with Jayce’s frequently increasing absence in lieu of investor meetings, galas, and

Mel,

Viktor carved out a home here, desperate to cling to echoes of affection that Viktor knew and now felt no longer belonged to him. So yes, he was territorial. This was a space that was as equally his as it was Jayce’s.

It was the one thing he could be possessive of without things falling apart from under him.

Jayce’s soft, clumsy words belied petulant accusation. “…could ask you the sa—same.”

It wasn’t like late evenings in the lab bleeding into all-nighters were uncommon for Viktor. “I was just…finishing up,” he lied. It was just that Jayce was no longer a constant presence to see it. “You should go as well. And change out of those clothes before the stain sets.”

Jayce scowled in remembrance. As Viktor began stowing his notes away, he could only hope that Jayce wasn’t too upset at Elora’s outburst.

He couldn’t lie—the same parts of him smarting over Jayce’s cruel remarks had soothed with Elora’s actions, as juvenile and unnecessary as they were. He’d thought their shared heartaches, the very foundation of their meeting and friendship, had been the end of their similarities, the length’s end of their bond.

He hadn’t had anyone outright defend him like that. To react in such a manner on his behalf.

Like,

Well, like his feelings mattered.

Even if a large part of that had been due to Elora’s pride in her own artistry and style.

“Vik, don’t…” Jayce’s warm palm lingered on the sharp curve of Viktor’s shoulder. “Don’t go.”

Viktor sighed, a marrow-deep weariness that settled in his brittle bones. “You’re drunk, Jayce.”

“I…I know.” He paused. The admission came with equal parts guilt and grief. “I made…made a mess.”

Viktor found himself unable to afford Jayce mercy at this moment. Viktor shrugged out of Jayce’s touch and watched as his hand lingered, hesitated, before falling back to his side. “And I’d prefer if you keep that mess out of the lab.”

Jayce took a few steps back, as if Viktor had physically struck him. “I…I upset you.” This in turn must have reciprocally upset Jayce.

Acute observation. “That’s…hardly unusual for those galas, now is it?” Bitterness seeped into his voice. Oh well. It’s not like Jayce was cognizant enough to recognize it.

Likely, he wouldn’t even remember this exchange in the first place. “You…you were sad.” Viktor felt a slice of pain right through his chest. He didn’t know if it was grief or if it was despair. “I made you sad.”

A bitter laugh bubbled up in his throat, tasting of late realizations and missed opportunities. Or maybe Viktor’s stomach didn’t agree with the wine that night, mixing maudlin with motion sickness as he turned on his stool to face his partner.

Viktor took a chance, the effects of liquid courage still in his veins. It’s not as though Jayce would remember this in the morning anyways. “…again, that’s…hardly unusual now, is it?”

Or maybe it was insanity.

Jayce had no right to make such a hopeful, pleading face; not when this was hardly the first offense, and knowing Viktor’s masochistic tendencies, won’t be the last. “It…came out wrong. What I said.” Jayce, in his tipsy-stupor, punctuated each word in an awkward rhythm. “Mixed around.”

There was an ongoing hypothesis paraded as truth that alcohol loosened one’s inhibitions and heightened impulsivity to the point of interrogation.

That wasn’t the reason why Viktor asked, hoped, and begged: “Then what did you want to say?”

“I—” Jayce took a stumbling step forward, then another. “I just wanted to say that…”

Jayce must have heard it. 

“It was—was—different.”

Viktor’s heart, thundering in his frail chest. “It was a costume, Jayce.”

“I—I know, I know.” How could he not, when he was so close to Viktor, crowding him and closing off every escape.

(Not that Viktor really wanted to.)

Viktor inched backwards, his back hitting the edge of the worktable, chalk tumbling to the floor in audible little clacks. But Viktor’s attention never left Jayce, unsure of the intensity in his partner’s eyes, unfocused and hazy, but gazing at him with fire.

“You look so—good. Tonight. Really good.”

Jayce leaned in close and Viktor’s vision narrowed down to his partner in front of him, holding his breath as if the softest gasp would break the spell, let the moment fall through his fingers like a sand through a sieve a second time. 

“But not as good as m—”

My partner.

You’d look even better as my partner.

Or at least, that’s what Jayce would have said,

If he didn’t choose that exact moment to slip over broken fragments of chalk, lose his balance with all the reflexes of a drowned rat whilst letting out an astonished squawk, and fall flat on his face with a dead thud.

A flume of chalkdust coated the air and just like that, the tension (and moment) between them went up in smoke.

Per usual.

Viktor sighed, trying to calm his racing heart. With some maneuvering (and minor back strain) he was able to peel Jayce’s face from sticking to the lab floor, and roll him over to his back. Gingerly, Viktor shook his shoulder, snapped his fingers, and briefly resorted to jabbing his face with the end of his crutch. 

It was no use.

Jayce was out cold.

Times like these, Viktor was sure Jayce was destined for him. Perhaps as punishment.

Viktor thought he’d been through this enough times to stop getting his hopes up. Maybe he was just a sentimental fool in the end, clinging to an affection that Viktor simply imagined; maybe he was just weak to Jayce’s handsome face and his open, earnest nature; and maybe he’ll keep making the same mistakes, already expecting the same disappointment every time, with the gall to wince at the wound he’d allowed to be inflicted.

Because who other than Jayce Talis would wander into their lab, drunk and full of longing, to tell Viktor how beautiful Mel looked tonight.

Much more beautiful than Viktor.

Viktor sighed, staggering to his feet to fetch the blanket and an old throw cushion for Jayce. He won’t be moving from the floor anytime soon.

And maybe, just maybe, Viktor should stop hollowing out Jayce’s chalk out of spite.

The sun’s rays had finally passed through the window by the time consciousness wormed its way to Jayce’s brain.

He vaguely remembered he was at the gala and drank and…

Then…

Flashes of memories swirled through his thoughts as waves of nausea flagged him from his stomach as pain drilled into his head. Jayce wobbled to his feet, gripping onto the edge of the lab table as images flitted through his thoughts in a murky swarm.

He remembered the party.

Viktor. Elora.

Then wine.

(apparently, at some point he had gotten it all over himself)

Professor Heimerdinger talking to him, then—

Coming to the lab,

Looking,

Searching—

‘Jayce? What are you doing here?’ 

Then…

Nothing.

Jayce found a bottle of aspirin on the counter and a glass of water. Jayce wondered if Viktor had found him last night. Or maybe he came in earlier this morning and allowed Jayce some privacy to cobble himself back into something resembling a human being. All the while, flashes of the night continued to invade his thoughts.

Right…he’d have to drag himself back home first, strip off yesterday’s mess, get into the shower, and—

‘Those colors—

Make you look pretty weird tonight, Vik.’

Jayce felt the very ground beneath him open in a ghastly maw, threatening to swallow him beneath the earth, doomed to fall in endless torment and peril as Jayce fell to his knees, opened his mouth and—

Viktor furrowed his brows, tilting his head towards something in the sky as if catching wind of something off in the distance.

Elora frowned, gingerly taking his cup of coffee as Viktor followed the direction towards the towering Hexgates. “Something the matter, Viki?”

Viktor frowned before shaking his head. “No. I thought I heard screa—but, never mind. It must be my imagination.”