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On the dark, grainy sand of her homeland, Mel mourns him.
She doesn’t know why; she hardly knew him. Never tried to know him.
But he was there in her life—always there. In the corner of her eye while Jayce went over their newest project with her. Tinkering away and pretending to not be involved while Mel played coy to his lingering glances.
His name always brought into conversation, subconsciously or not. Always creeping into her life whether she liked it or not.
(Always second to him).
He hated her, she was sure of it. Yet, she knew, somehow, deep down—felt it even—that he admired her in a way. The rare times he indulged in her intrigue with their latest invention, the odd occasion he smiled at her; genuine.
Hate and admiration could coexist with one another; Mel had felt the same way about her mother, once. Powerful, spiteful things together.
It didn’t matter though. He was a ghost now, alongside Jayce.
A part of Mel was angered by it—wanted to scream it into the cold, unforgiving air of Noxus how he—they—could leave her behind. Haunting her life, refusing to let go.
(A part of Mel, deep down, misses him. Maybe they could of been friends in another life, maybe it wouldn’t of had to be this way).
Mel mourns him, because no one else will.