Chapter Text
Like most unfortunate things in Viktor’s life, the vandalization of his apartment didn’t occur suddenly. It approached silently, from behind, and held him hostage at a blade's edge while he watched it happen. It was just like everything else; like the ache in his leg that only grew worse, this was very much the same. It had grown into such a horrible and ugly thing that he could do nothing but stare into the face of it and realize with an awful certainty that he had been suffocating on that knife's edge for a while now, and there was nothing he could do about it.
Viktor had lived in the Academy apartments long enough to call it home. It was only two hallways and one short flight of stairs away from the lab, so even after he had graduated two years ago, Heimerdinger had absconded to let him stay. His apartment was small, but functional. It housed all his books, research papers, and a few meager belongings from his former life in Zaun. He hadn’t changed it much from its original design; the walls were completely bare, the room devoid of colour and any hint of personality, but that was how he liked it. It was unsuspecting and innocent, a bystander, a nameless face. While Jayce took one look at the apartment and called it “sad”, Viktor looked at it with affection and reverence. In every way that the city of Piltover was grand and extravagant, his apartment was plain and humble. It didn’t seek attention, it just existed as it was. Viktor’s small oasis.
It was such an unassuming apartment, that Viktor was quite surprised when it had become the target of such a senseless attack. He had arrived home from a rather long night at the lab to find the lock broken. Not just broken, but completely destroyed. The inner mechanism had been damaged so horribly that his key wouldn’t even slide into the keyhole anymore. It stuck out at a strange angle when he tried, its pathway blocked by some unseen force.
If that wasn’t bad enough, the door handle had been completely removed, leaving nothing but a gaping hole below where the damaged lock sat. He pushed the door inwards with a growing pit in his stomach, but was surprised to find the inside of his apartment completely untouched. Strangely so. He took an exorbitantly long amount of time to double check this fact; he went through every book on his shelves, every piece of clothing in his closet. He checked the inside of his icebox and even the bedsheets and pillows on his bed. Nothing was out of place.
This greatly concerned him. Though he saw the brilliance in it as well. Whoever had targeted him (and he was quite sure he was being targeted, after a thorough inspection of the surrounding apartments revealed that no one else had been a victim of such a strange crime) liked to play games. It would have been cruel, but rather thoughtless, to break into his apartment and destroy his belongings. It would have been expected, really. This, however, was so much worse.
He couldn’t sleep that night. Not with the knowledge that someone had broken into his home, pawed through its contents, and chosen to take nothing. He thought maybe he had missed something, maybe they had taken an item of his but he still hadn't noticed. Then he thought about the broken lock on the door, the quiet of the night, and the ever looming possibility that the perpetrator could come back at any moment. Maybe they were waiting for Viktor to fall asleep, so they could get away with it right under his nose.
This thought alone saw him restless on the couch in his living room, in full view of the door and the broken lock. If he had enough strength left in his body, he would have tried to block the door with a chair at least, but he was so very tired, and although he was wide awake, he could not gather enough energy to reach for his crutch, let alone drag a piece of furniture across the floorboards of his living room.
He stared at the empty hole in the door for so long that his eyes burned, and when the first rays of morning peaked through the curtains, he dragged himself from room to room, staring at each item on his shelves and counters, wondering if maybe there was something missing, but he couldn’t figure out what.
-
Viktor went to the locksmith early that morning, nervous to leave his apartment unattended, but left with no choice. He was hoping to resolve the issue as soon as possible, but he was treated with the same open suspicion and disdain from the locksmith that he should have been quite used to by now.
“How do I know you weren’t the one to break the lock?”
“Why would I break into my own apartment?” Viktor retorted.
“How do I know it’s yours?”
“I have the key.” Viktor held it up as he spoke, in all its rusty glory. “You may also speak with Professor Heimerdinger. I have been residing there for-”
“Look.” The locksmith cut in. “It’s one thing to fix a lock, but the frame’s likely compromised if the handle’s gone. That means replacing the door, which I can only do if you have authorization from the Academy administration.”
“I see.”
“So unless you have that with you currently, I can’t help you.”
“Is there a temporary measure?” Viktor tried.
“You’ll need to submit a request. Until then, there’s nothing I can do.”
-
Viktor arrived at the lab shortly after in a bad mood. He made coffee with Jayce’s horribly fancy espresso machine and stared down at his notes with unseeing eyes. He re-read the same scribbled sentence three times over without understanding its meaning. All he could think about was the missing door-handle, the broken lock, and the key that was sitting heavy in his trouser pocket.
When Jayce walked into the lab, bright and beaming, Viktor had already polished off two cups of espresso and had been staring blankly at the same formula for the past ten minutes without moving his pen across the paper once. He barely registered Jayce’s cheerful greeting through the fog of thoughts swirling in his head, and he flinched rather violently when Jayce’s strong and warm hand graced his shoulder.
“Is something wrong?” Jayce asked, his hazel eyes wide and searching, his large frame hunched over so he could meet Viktor's gaze. His thumb brushed lightly across Viktor’s shoulder blade making Viktor flinch again, and he saw Jayce’s open expression twist in confusion.
“Oh, eh, just a headache.” Viktor mumbled in reply, looking back down at the formula before him and dismissing Jayce with a flippant wave of his hand.
Jayce opened his mouth as if to prod further, but quickly thought better of it after a sharp glare from his partner. He let out a huff instead and retreated to his corner of the lab. After their fair share of arguments over Viktor’s health, Jayce had arrived at the conclusion that it was useless to pry. It was much easier for him to take the passive route, which usually consisted of constant glances and pleading looks, followed by countless offers to grab Viktor’s medication, or an extra blanket, or practically any item that Jayce thought would be helpful at the given time. Viktor would usually refuse, and they would begin the delicate dance of Jayce hovering around him like a helpless mother, while Viktor tried his hardest to ignore his partner and complete his work for the day.
Surprisingly, this did not occur today, for Jayce seemed to remain silent on his side of the room, buried in his work for a large portion of the morning. Viktor wondered for a moment if he had upset Jayce with his short tone earlier, and he found his eyes flicking over multiple times that morning, searching for the furrowed brow or clench in the jaw that would indicate Jayce was upset. This search turned up fruitless however, as Jayce only had a focused look in his eyes, face impassive of any emotion that Viktor could read.
The afternoon would have passed much the same, had it not been for Jayce’s sudden return from his lunch break. He flung the lab door open with his usual vigor, only to catch Viktor lost in thought, completely unaware.
Viktor startled so suddenly that his elbow knocked against his mug, splashing his third coffee of the day across his desk, staining the papers spread across it. He cursed under his breath and quickly moved to right the mug. He went to stand and clean the mess, but Jayce was much faster, already holding out a spare rag towards Viktor in the time it took him to reach for his crutch. Viktor took the offering with a silent nod of thanks.
“You seem jumpy today.” Jayce observed.
“I’m… fine.” Viktor muttered, keeping his gaze locked on the spreading pool of coffee he was mopping up.
“Mm. Sure you are.” Jayce huffed. “You always say that.”
“I slept poorly last night.” Viktor lied. He pressed down on the rag until his fingertips turned white. If not to mop up the mess, then to stop the trembling in his hands.
“That explains the coffee.” Jayce said lightly, stepping closer. “I’ve never seen you drink more than one cup.”
“Right, well...” Viktor fumbled. The coffee-soaked rag dripped onto the floor as he moved to dispose of it, but Jayce once again held out a hand and took it away himself, speaking louder so Viktor could hear him across the room.
“Maybe you should go home early.” The rag hit the bottom of the waste bin with a sad plop. Jayce turned towards Viktor, leaning back against the edge of his own desk.
“No offense Vik, but you don’t seem very productive today. I can always ask Sky to help me for the rest of the afternoon.”
“Oh,” Viktor blinked. “If you are sure….”
“Definitely.” Jayce nodded, maybe a little fast for Viktor’s liking. “I’ll be fine, go home and rest.”
For some reason, the offer made Viktor feel more on edge than he had all day. His hands twitched slightly, lingering near the edge of the desk instead of moving away. He forced himself to nod.
“Very well.”
-
Viktor arrived back at his apartment to find the door open again, marks of mud in the entry way, and his old cane, the handle shiny from use, broken in two on the floor. He stared at it like a stranger, like a corpse on the floor, like a dead thing he didn’t want to touch. He stepped over it and continued his journey to the kitchen, where a sudden sense of urgency overtook him. He dragged a chair across the room and positioned it in front of the door, and with his fingers reaching into the hole where the handle should be, he gave it an experimental tug. The chair turned out to be quite light-weight and easily scraped backwards across the floor boards. Viktor let out a sigh of exasperation. If he could easily move the chair with that little force, there was no way it would hold up against someone wanting to get in. Viktor stared forlorn over at his couch and armchair, which were much too heavy for him to drag over and block the door with.
Mind made up, he crossed the hallway and entered the bedroom. After a quick search in case something else had been damaged or had gone missing, he began with his new task. He reached for his favourite clothes from the closet, his best books from the shelves, the custom-made wrenches to adjust his back and leg brace, and created a neat little pile on his bed. He fit what he could into his old school bag, the leather straps frayed and hanging with trepidation off his arm, while he balanced a stack of books in the same hand and his crutch in the crook of his other arm. It was a slow journey back, but he was thankful that the hallways had emptied and there was no one around to watch his slow and lumbering descent to the lab.
Viktor was quick to unload his belongings, glancing around the dark and silent room, his crutch clacking loudly and echoing off the floor as he moved. He hid his belongings in the supply closet, tucked into a dusty corner of the shelving, beside the countless electrical cables and spare safety goggles. He rested a moment on the cot there, one which Jayce had set up after one too many late nights at the lab resulted in the pair of them falling asleep at their desks, waking with stiffness in their joints and pain in their necks.
Viktor was grateful for it now, and as he gazed over at the lab door, with its sturdy handle and not one, but two locks, he came to the only possible solution. The cot wasn’t proper, and most likely not enough support for what his back required, but it would have to do. He made one more tiring journey back to his apartment, filling his pockets and hands with the necessary toiletries and medications he might need, and proceeded to collapse into a heap when he reached the cot in the lab once again. His leg had begun to ache in earnest, but he willed himself upward once more to walk a perimeter around the lab. He checked the main door not once but three times, pulling on the handle to test its strength once he had secured both locks. He checked the side entrance Sky sometimes used, and just for good measure, he inspected the locks on the windows and stared down at the sparkling night scene of Piltover below.
He was quite sure he was being paranoid now, but then he thought of his broken cane, which he knew the perpetrator had dug through his closet to find, and placed purposely in plain sight for Viktor to see. It felt like a message, and he didn’t want to dwell on what its implications could be. He felt the cold shiver of unease settle into him then, and he knew that he had made the right choice. He soon retreated back to the cot, his crutch clutched safely in hands, and tried to sleep. He opened his eyes briefly once more and stared out into the darkness of the lab beyond, silent and waiting. He got up one more time with a huff, making sure to shut the closet door fully, before returning back to the bed.
And then, finally, Viktor slept.