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Mel Medarda has never liked first dates.
As a woman whose name often precedes her, true intentions are rarely as simple as genuine connection. Mel is desirable and highly sought after, but for none of the reasons that matter in love. Wealth. Power. Influence. Her birthright attracts more interest than the quality of her character, regardless of the miles put between her and her blood. Medarda over all.
First dates are predictable. The other person feigns interest in topics they clearly studied based on rumours Mel enjoys them, they ask joyless questions on believed hardships related to being a councilor, and then they pry for any secrets that could gain them influence. It’s exhausting, but it’s a game Mel is forced to play, lest she be written off as a cold-hearted recluse. She can only spend so many evenings alone painting in the comfort of her home before the gossip rags begin to spin stories. A clever tongue is as valuable as sharp steel. And just as cutting, if it’s the Piltover Gazette.
She’s never had a good first date, but Jayce Talis is certainly trying.
Perhaps the reason for their date’s current success is the feeling of familiarity. Yes, this is technically the first time Jayce has asked her to join him at a restaurant romantically, but their seven years of history (and the recent night spent together) make this dinner feel far from the stifled first dates she’s suffered through in the past. They’ve already shared a hundred meals together, usually hunched over blueprints or investor proposals, bringing magic to Piltover.
“Is the food okay?” Jayce asks shyly, the faint blush caused by nerves entirely too endearing.
“Far better than anything instant we’ve shared,” Mel says with a smile, fondly remembering the first time Jayce had offered to split his lunch when she had missed her own due to an emergency council meeting.
“How dare you say that about Mister Noodle, who has been through so much with us.” Jayce says in mock offence.
“Forgive me, it would be a shame to be too harsh on such a good mutual friend of ours.” She acquiesces, hiding her growing smile behind a sip of wine.
“I accept your apology on his behalf,” Jayce says, bringing a hand up to rest atop of the table. His joking tone fades, but his eyes remain soft. “This is nice.”
It’s a statement, but Jayce leaves room for it to become a question. It is nice, exceedingly so in Mel’s opinion, but he still allows her space to voice discomfort. Mel knows that if she says the word, he will accept her rejection and leave without argument. She is not a prize to be won to Jayce Talis, she is a respected friend first, and that alone has her heart melting.
“This is nice.” She agrees quietly, placing her hand in his where it sits on top of the expensive white tablecloth linens. His eyes shine with happiness, as if a single good date could power him through any hardship.
Their conversation flows with ease, ebbing between upcoming projects and overhead gossip, pulling more than a few laughs and groans both of them as they reminisce over the mundane. As a Medarda, Mel knows the power of words. They aren’t meant to be shared lightly or loosely, but it’s always been painfully easy to speak to Jayce. The shadow of Noxus fades into the background when she’s with him, and that’s perhaps the most terrifying part. Who is she if not alone and afraid? Who is Mel if not a Medarda?
She sets aside her melancholy, organizes it into a neat box and lays it to rest with everything else that will inevitably keep her up at night. Time and place.
It’s not hard to let herself drift into the comfort of the man currently holding her hand. His unwavering faith in progress is infectious, that unabashed curiosity making her want to believe in a brighter future too.
They’re almost through the main course when the mood shifts. There’s a near imperceptible change in Jayce, subtle enough that most would miss it, but Mel can feel the moment it happens. The line of his jaw tightens, eyes growing distant while flickering to the window behind her.
Briefly, Mel wonders if this is the usual first date curse. Has Jayce finally realized I’m not worth the heartbreak? That attempting to love a Medarda only ends in pain?
If it wasn’t for his grip on her hand tightening, Mel may have believed this was the final resting ground of their relationship. Rubbing a soothing thumb over the one engulfing her own, Mel chances a glance over her shoulder to the sleeping evening streets of Piltover.
Snow. Their usually colourful city has been blanketed in soft white, cobblestone and marble alike hidden behind a thick layer of snow that looks nowhere near done falling. Puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. Mel knows the basics of what happened to Jayce as a child, how proudly he speaks of designing a prosthetic for his mother and the motivation it inspired in him. He’s never spoken directly about the storm that nearly claimed them both, but it starts to make sense why Jayce worries so intensely when the seasons change.
Mel had heard there would be inclement weather, but the storm rolling in now is already the worst the city has had in years. Decades even. She can’t remember the last time she saw this much snow, but it certainly wasn’t on Piltover.
”Take me home,” she asks without preamble, the remnants of her meal and the promise of dessert forgotten. Jayce startles as the request, his eyes finally pulling away from the window. His confusion morphs between sadness and embarrassment before finally landing on acceptance.
”You’re sure you don’t want to finish? I promised you a proper date… but if it’s something I’ve done wrong, I’ll call you a carriage.” Jayce rambles slightly, momentary shock pulling him from the spiralling caused by the weather outside.
”Jayce this has been the best first date of my life, not that I should boost The Man of Progress’ ego any further when he has his face on a blimp,” Mel begins, holding back a smile when Jayce flushes red at the reminder, “and I’m not saying the night has to end just yet. I want you to come with me, most of the city looks like it’s going to be snowed in and I’d like to get back to my house with you before then.”
Jayce blinks at her owlishly, “You want to leave? With me?”
“Yes, Jayce. If you want to come with me, that is.” Mel adds, not wanting to pressure the man if he truly wants to return to his own home.
Jayce swallows thickly, eyes darting back to the wintery scene outside. She watches conflict war within him, the fear of vulnerability painfully recognizable.
”This has been so amazing Mel, but I fear I might not be the best company right now. I don’t want to ruin the night,” Jayce tells her honestly, tension building in his body as the snow continues to fall.
”You won’t Jayce, and I think it may be better if you stayed with someone. I’ll worry about you all night if you’re alone.” Mel says softly, choosing to share some of her own vulnerability in light of his.
“Oh.”
“Escort me home?” Mel asks again, rising from her seat.
Jayce recovers from his surprise quickly, accepting her offer and her hand as they prepare to leave. Genuine fear has crept into his eyes as they exit, the furrow between his brows deep as they begin the journey back to her home. For something so clearly tied to past trauma, Jayce does a remarkable job of remaining stoic. It breaks Mel’s heart just a little to watch him struggle, to attempt to be brave for her when she would just as happily accept the afraid boy he’s trying to hide.
The grip on her hand grows near painful as her residence comes into view. The snow is falling hard enough to obscure their vision now, whiting out most of the city around them. Mel rubs her thumb gently across the back of his hand, accepting the tight squeeze offered to her in return.
Crossing through the threshold of her home both a relief and the breaking of a dam. With the door closed and locked behind them, Jayce begins to shrink inward, adrenaline fading as panic takes root. Eyes wide and shiny, he attempts to turn away as his breathing quickens. Tugging on the hand still intertwined with her own, Mel gentles him back to face her.
“Hey, look at me. It’s okay,” she whispers, using her free hand to cradle the side of his face. Jayce looks at her through tears, breath still coming too fast as he leans into her palm. Guiding his head down, she brings his forehead to rest against hers. “Breathe with me. Inhale. Good. Now slowly, out. Just like that. Keep going.”
The rest of Piltover melts away as they stay like that, bodies nearly pressed together as they breathe in tandem. Somewhere in the process Jayce’s eyes flutter closed, a single tear breaking free, despite his efforts. Mel wipes it away with the hand already pressed to his cheek, soothing him when he attempts to apologize.
”You don’t have to hide from me Jayce, I’ve seen far worse than a few tears.” She whispers into the space between them, satisfied once his breathing has slowed enough to match her own. “This doesn’t change anything, you being human doesn’t make me like you less.”
Nervous laughter bubbles from his chest, but the tension in his shoulders has already started to ease. She lets him soak in the quiet reprieve for as long as he wants, not pulling away until he himself straightens.
“I know you said not to apologize, but I do wish I could have made this a special night for you. I wanted it to be the perfect first date,” Jayce says, sighing as Mel shakes her head.
”It was special, and the night is far from over. Come on.” Mel tugs him along as she makes her way towards the living room, nodding towards her underused fireplace and raising an eyebrow. “How about we chase the cold away in here? Can you start it while I grab some other essentials?”
Give something to do to take his mind off the weather, Jayce jumps at the opportunity to be useful. By the time Mel returns with a few too many blankets and a bottle of wine, the fire is roaring in the hearth in front of the couch.
”Perfection, I knew I could count on you.” Mel says with a smile, offering Jayce his pick of blankets as they curl up together.
“Anything for you,” Jayce replies, and though it’s said in jest, Mel can feel the intensity of the meaning. Her heart kicks behind her ribs, squeezing at the open sincerity.
They fall into a comfortable conversation once again, wrapped up in each other. They stay like that for hours, the blistering cold outside long forgotten.
Mel Medarda decides first dates aren’t so bad after all.