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VITYA’S POV
The room is silent save for the tick-tick-tick of the clock on my nightstand. I splay my fingers out, smoothing the wrinkles in the sheets. I feel myself roughly rise and fall as Jay drops onto the bed. My thought spiral has grown so all-consuming that the sudden change sparks a fleeting panic, causing my teeth to snap together and shoulders to hunch up.
“Fuck, sorry V”
“Don’t be.” The coldness of my tone hisses against the warmth of Jay’s.
I have not been able to control myself all day. The anticipation gnawing at me like a persistent pest, leaving me hollow and raw. When I get into this state, I struggle to stop the sharpness from clawing out from my chest, doling out my words with violence.
My mind has been replaying earlier today over and over on a cruel loop. Jay offering a steadying arm as I wobble up the stairs while juggling the keys and an armful of groceries. The reflexive slap of my hand against hers is still reverberating in my skull, hot tears still blurring my vision. I curse myself for how callously I brushed past into the apartment, immediately isolating like I always do, leaving Jay with nothing more than a mumbled apology over my shoulder.
I don’t mean to act in this way, especially towards Jay, but the red hot shame of my youth still burns white hot. Jay goes against everything I’ve ever known. I’ve spent a lifetime equating solitude to strength, a helping hand to callous pity, a show of pain as a sign of weakness. These tenets became instinct, ensuring my survival from the moment I came into this world to now. Like pulling up old roots that don’t want to let go, it’s difficult to unlearn what has always been there.
I can feel Jay squirming behind me, the bed groaning with each nervous readjustment. After years of partnership, this is one of her easiest tells. She’s unsure, which is rare. Jay Talis always knows what to say, how to relentlessly attack a problem and roll with the punches until she comes out on top. Nothing is ever too much for Piltover’s Women of Progress . It’s not fake in any way, this ever-personable, self-assured Jay. She truly is as resilient and strong as people believe she is. It’s just that not many people get to see the other Jay. The one who is wracked with self-doubt and anxiety, grappling for control, not to overpower, but to do the impossible: make everyone happy. And she pursues this to a fault, looking out for all of us lucky to be in her orbit but never considering how lucky we are to have her as our sun.
“V…if-if you don’t want to, we can wait.” Jay’s eyes always speak the loudest, oftentimes going so far as to betray what she is actually saying. As I turn to briefly meet her gaze, I know she’s telling the truth. Her eyes are honeyed stardust and hold me in their warmth. I reminisce on better times shared in this bed, being held by these same eyes. Jay nuzzled into my neck gazing up at me as my fingers lazily trail her face, lingering on the pink scar carved into her eyebrow. Waking up love drunk, rumpled hair and evidence of the previous night blooming in reds and purples on our skin. Her eyes alight with mischief as she leaves teasing kisses on my inner thighs. Lips on lips on lips on skin on skin on skin-
I give my arm a tiny pinch to ground me back in this moment. I finally reply, the words pressed out through gritted teeth, “No, we’re d-doing this.” I try to take a deep breath but only an awkward huff tumbles out. I feel myself rock back on the bed as Jay moves closer, her weight pressing down on the rusty springs holding up my mattress. Despite facing away from Jay, I can feel her hands hovering, as though every cell of mine is attune to hers. Always reaching, searching, needing the other. She begins to softly rub my back. The baggy shirt I’m wearing makes it difficult, the gathered fabric acting as a tactile reminder of the distance I still maintain between us.
Jay’s love language has always been touch: a strand of hair tucked behind my ear while my hands are busy soldering; a piece of lint plucked from my shirt with a wink and that devastating smile; wrapping me into the warmth of her jacket on cold nights heading home from the lab. I used to think I hated touch. But that was before I met Jay Talis.
I lean back into her hands, feeling their warmth even through the cloth. I shuffle to face Jay, wincing at a sharp pain that shoots up my calf. She releases my shoulders and cold afterimages haunt the spaces her hands just were. When I finally settle into a comfortable position, my hand shakily finds the bottom of my t-shirt. The silence is so heavy it feels like a third person, sitting between us. I can’t bring myself to move, frozen, like a prey animal that convinces itself it’s invisible if it doesn't move. The air is stagnant and stuffy, as though my fear and anxiety has overflowed, spilling out of my head and filling my small bedroom. I still can’t bring myself to meet Jay’s gaze and my hands are a ghostly white from how tightly I grasp my shirt, trembling from what they know is to come.
Jay gingerly takes my chin, “Hey,” tilting my head up to meet her gaze, “There you are.” A smile spreads across her face, drawing my eyes to her lips and sparking a parade of stars spiraling out of my chest. Her gap toothed smile making my heart sing. “I love every part of you, V. Not in spite of. Because of.” One of Jay’s hand slides to rest at the nape of my neck while the other comes to rest on top of mine, stilling my hand’s jittery movements. “Always.” I feel her hand softly nudge me towards her and I allow my head to tilt forward so we’re resting against each other, forehead to forehead.
My voice sounds so small, “Could you help me?” Jay silently nods, her smile melting into something more serious. She pulls her head back, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much.” She keeps her hand on mine until I nod.
It’s difficult for me to reconcile this version of myself with the cold and formidable one that exists outside this room. The one I’ve been fighting tooth and fucking nail to build from birth to the second I stepped foot in Piltover. Vitya, the Zaunite transplant who slunk her way into the Academy and instead of being expelled upon being found out, caught Heimerdinger’s attention and was allowed to stick around. Whose sharp quips and sharper wit gave her a reputation of taking shit from no one and garnering respect as an excruciatingly methodical scientist with a fiercely driven work-ethic that runs on caffeine and spite more than anything else. An air of impermeability, immune to ignorant whispers and petty remarks churned up in a rumor mill who views her as someone to pity. Something unworthy. I hate that in these moments, I believe them.
My impermeability has always been more fiction than fact. Jay is the only one I’ve ever allowed to see beyond that painstakingly crafted facade. The only hands I’m willing to place the trembling creature of my heart in. Years and years of hardening my emotions and putting up walls makes vulnerability dangerous, something to avoid at all costs lest it be used against me or worse, an excuse to leave. Tonight is a hopefully chance to prove myself wrong.
Jay’s voice gently brings me back to the now. “Want me to face your front or back, V?” She’s started rubbing soft circles into my hand and despite the usual grounding effect it provides, I can’t stop myself from trembling. Can’t bring myself to speak above a whisper, ashamed at this fear and distrust I’ve so carefully hidden far, far, far away from Jay. “ Back .”
Jay must have seen me wince earlier and protests when I try to turn back around, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder and giving it a faint squeeze for me to stay put. She crawls around to settle at my back. My breath hitches as her fingers find the hem of the shirt and brush against my skin. “Still good, V?” I let out a quiet hum in affirmation, terrified of completely falling apart if I try to speak.
Jay is slow and methodical in her movements, lifting the shirt in increments, taking long pauses as her fingers, feather-light, dance along my back. I can tell she’s trying not to linger. But her touch is charged on metal and skin. Familiar sensations usually reserved for arms and legs now feel brand new. Electric. Terrifying.
As she meticulously works the shirt higher, I feel it starting to catch on the brace and feel my body tense up. “Can you lift your arms for me, V?” I slowly lift them and feel a shiver run through me as she plants a gentle kiss on the curve of my ear, “You’re doing so great.” Jay maneuvers the cloth over the brace with such care it sends a pang of hurt through my chest. I don’t know how many shirts I’ve ruined by carelessly tugging them off, a petulant rage I only let out in solitude. I’ve never been bothered to show myself this kind of tenderness.
“Still good?” I feel Jay pause. The shirt is now at the base of my neck. I give another affirmative hum and a small nod. My emotions violently churn within me, breaths coming out in tight pants, hands balled into fists to stop them from shaking, knuckles white from the pressure. I shiver again as she gingerly pulls the shirt over my head.
JAY’S POV
I drop V’s shirt onto the floor as I take a sharp intake of breath. Holy shit . My ears and cheeks immediately bloom with heat, ablaze with a staggering rush of admiration and love . This incredible woman has allowed me into this sacred space of herself and it’s…it’s overwhelming . And the brace. The brace.
I’ve only seen it in on the page. V has a terrible habit of falling asleep at her desk. Body slumped in her chair, hair a mess from running her hand through it, soft grunted snores escaping her chapped lips, her slender hand often still gripping the pen she was furiously writing notes with before her consciousness slipped away. I gave up trying to get her to curb this habit. You only get hit in the ankle with a metal cane once before you learn you're better off keeping your mouth shut.
One night I finally managed to slip out of a gala Mel forced me to attend, itching to finish up an equation I had been working on. I came back to find V asleep, unsurprising as she had been on day five of less than two hours of sleep. Her desk area was covered in blueprints, machine parts and sweetmilk mugs. As I walked by, shaking my head at what she refers to as “organized chaos,” my eyes caught on some drafts she must’ve been working on before the sleep got to her. It was a back brace. At the time we had only just started our partnership so I had no idea it was for V herself. Despite not knowing its significance, I still felt guilty for looking at the sketches. I didn’t bring it up after that night but found myself disappointed anytime she proposed a new project and it was never the brace.
But no drawing could ever compare to the real thing. The design is like nothing I’ve ever seen before, intricate engineering and ingenious practicality seamlessly blended with aesthetics. Vitya’s engineering has always been brilliant but this is something else. Breathtaking.
From the beginning of our partnership I started cataloguing everything I could about V, from how she takes her coffee (black, 6 sugars) to the brand of chalk she prefers (Hagoromo, white). I spent weeks learning how to make her favorite Zaun pastry so I could leave them on a plate in the lab’s kitchen, knowing that while she hates being told to stop work to eat, her sweet tooth is stronger. But among these observations, I also catalogued her pain. She keeps it quiet and contained but hisses and grunts slip out when she crumples into her chair, white knuckles grip her crutch as she moves about the lab on bad leg days, the shake of pill bottles has become more frequent these last few months.
Despite these observations, I don’t think I fully understood what V has been dealing with. The lightness in my chest immediately dulls as my eyes catch on the screws embedded into her skin. The bruises and redness that peek out from around the edges of the brace, all in various stages, a galaxy of greens, blues and purples. My eyes trace the jagged scars streaking out, the brace unable to contain them all. This pervasive pain, hidden under vests and sweaters. Within a rattling rib cage and beating heart. I can’t bring myself to touch her, as though this new piece of her is something holy, my touch a desecration. But my hands burn with the need to touch. To do something. How long as she suffered in silence, the world making her believe it made her stronger? That this was somehow her fault? Her responsibility to bear alone?
I come back to myself, realizing I haven’t said a word since lifting the shirt fully. I’m unable to hold onto a single thought as they race through my head, unsure how to begin to tell her how I feel about this. About her - “ Get out. ” V’s voice startles me out of my stupor. Her tone is short, sharp and unfamiliar to me. My heart clenches when I realize that it’s laced with hurt. It feels like someone’s slammed my gut with a rubber mallet. I finally notice her body is somehow trembling even more, the tension in her body like that of a rubber band pulled taught. She’s digging her nails into her palms, blood beginning to trickle out from the pressure.
The warmth I felt before has been replaced with something icy and unyielding in its bitterness. “V…” I can’t come up with any other words, the only thing still standing tall in the whirlwind of my thoughts is V, V, V. I hear her huff out another sharp breath but get no response. My palms have grown clammy and I quickly rub them on my boxers before bringing my fingers up to gently trace the skin along the edge of the brace. “V…th-this-you’re beautiful .”
Her body goes rigid and she barks out a laugh as she whips around to face me, “Do not.” Her brow is deeply furrowed and her eyes seem to shake as they pin me down, the usual warmth of their amber dulled by something instinctual and primal. Fear. She turns away from me again. I can hear her whisper something else but I can’t hear anything anymore as the roaring in my ears swallows it up.
“Wh-What did you s-”
“I s-said…” Her fists ram against her head before firmly wrapping around her sides, fingers digging into skin. “I am a-a fucking hlupák. For ever thinking this could play out differently. That this time would be different… This is why I do not date. This is why I wear that damn shirt if I bring someone to bed. Why I never allow anyone to get close enough-”
Every nerve in my body is alight with the need to hold her, to show her that none of it is true. Whatever she’s been made to believe about herself, it isn’t true . I find my own hand shaking now as I place it on her shoulder, making sure not to touch the brace this time. On contact she quickly twists away, curling even further into herself. “Your persistence is cruel, Jay .” Her accent heavily coats her words now, everything coming out more guttural. Harsher. My heart shatters into a billion pieces as I hear a choked sob slip out and watch her body shake with the effort to tamp the next one down.
Minutes pass in silence, save for the occasional sniffle from Vitya. My heart is raging, slamming against my ribs. Thump-thump-thump. Warm tears of my own start to fall, my vision going blurry. The tightness in my chest I’m all too familiar with rears its ugly head and I close my eyes as if the answer waits for me in the darkness. And right before I feel myself come undone, Mam á ’s words come back to me: “You’ve always known how to love, mija. So love .”
I’m moving before I can second guess myself, greedy hands grasping V’s sides and planting kisses wherever I find exposed skin, showering every inch of her with my lips. Her skin is almost as cold as the metal. “Jay…you d-don’t have to-” My reply comes out more of a garbled mumble than anything remotely coherent as my lips continue their journey, seeking out every mole and freckle. “I want to.” I move in a fevered frenzy, gasping for breath. My head grows lighter as I desperately attempt to imbue just an ounce of what I feel for this woman into where my lips meet her skin. It will never be enough. Never fucking enough.
We collapse into a heap on the bed, bodies intertwining and facing each other. My breaths are quick and I can feel a sheen of sweat beginning to form on my forehead as I look into her eyes. The fear I saw earlier is gone now, replaced with something that’s still cautious but something softer too. It makes my heart sing . I bring my hand up to dance back and forth over the soft pillowy skin below her collarbone. My hands move to slide up to her shoulders, holding her close. I don’t want to ever let go. Her eyes dart between mine and the sheets below us. She begins to tremble again and I feel warm tears roll down her face, dripping down onto my arms. I pull back to hold her face in my hands.
“Look at me, V.” Her eyes are clamped shut and she shakes her head, grabbing my wrists and weakly trying to pull them away. I rub my thumb along the planes of her face.
“My Vitya…My sweet, sweet Vitya. Will you please look at me.”
V’s hands tighten around my wrists and she finally lifts her head to meet my gaze. “I-I am broken Jay. I-I-you deserve more than…” Her bony grip releases as she feebly waves her hand over her body. “This.” She practically spits the word out, like it leaves a bad taste on her tongue. I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear as I bring our foreheads together again, her gaze is clearer now, her usual fire slowly rekindling itself. “I meant what I said earlier.”
“I-I didn’t-don’t know how t-to-what to d-do-” I pull away so I can look at her in earnest, “There’s nothing for you to do, V. You’re fucking incredible ,” I let one of my hands fall to palm the front of her brace, “ every fucking part of you.”
V turns her face into my hand still cupping her cheek. I bring my face close again, “Can you please just let me show you?” Placing another gentle kiss on her cheekbone. As we lie together in silence, I start to worry I pushed her too far. Cursing myself for moving so recklessly and carelessly. But then-
VITYA’S POV
I bring my lips to Jay’s, hands coming up to cup her jaw. She lets out a surprised hmph but immediately returns the kiss, deep and needy. When I finally pull back, my lungs burn from lack of air. The silence from before has been replaced by our quiet pants. We cling to each other, greedily. Both our pupils are blown wide as we drink the other in. And for once in my life, I allow my heart to decide. “Take my brace off, Jay.”
It takes a minute for the words to sink in. I watch Jay’s eyes grow wide and her mouth fall slightly open. She slowly nods her head and gives a little gulp as she closes her mouth.
What happens next doesn’t feel real. Never did I think I would have this experience. Never did I think I deserved it. Jay is reverent as she carefully undoes the leather buckle wrapped over my shoulder. Her rough and calloused hands rub into the sore muscle and tissue underneath. Placing kisses on the newly exposed skin, sending jolts of warmth throughout my body. I feel the fear and hurt from before melting away, being replaced with something bright, something harder to name. Something akin to love.
I hungrily grasp at the nape of Jay’s neck, leading her mouth to mine, our tongues dancing a dance only ours know. When we pull apart, my heart hurts with the fondness I feel for her. I feel drunk as I take in her rumpled hair, cheeks flushed a subtle pink, eyes glazed over and mouth once again slightly agape. “V-I-I-” I place a finger to her mouth, “Shh, continue before I change my mind.” She gives a short burst of nods and kisses the pad of my finger before continuing.
Jay playfully nips at my collarbone, her movements puppylike in their eagerness. Her fingers deftly undo the locking mechanisms of the brace. Each click-click-click makes the joy welling up inside me twist with the thought of a younger Vitya. Click, who thought they could never be loved. Click, who thought her imperfections were something to abhor. Click.
With the final latch, the brace falls from my torso. Fully exposed, I shiver at the chill settling into my skin. But it doesn’t last long. Warmth. I am enveloped in it. Jay’s chest is pressed against my back, her soft breasts cause butterflies to erupt deep in my belly. Jay’s hands glide up, down, across my skin like a cartographer who’s been given a new map. Intimately committing its hills and valleys to memory. Hands gently squeezing my breasts, massaging my scars, following the trail of hair on my stomach going down-down-down . I lean back into her, and feel something wet fall into the crook of my neck.
“Jay, is it-a-are you okay?”
She laughs into my ear “Okay? Gods V…I-I’m better than I’ve ever been.”
* * *
Heady and warm from lovemaking, we settle into each other. My head is on Jay's chest, rising and falling with her breaths. Her fingers lazily draw lines across my chest and collarbone, mapping my “constellations” she says, referring to my many freckles and moles. I close my eyes and allow myself to fully exist in this moment. This beautiful, beautiful moment. And I feel loved.