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“Bad idea,” her reflection murmured, “terrible idea.”
She felt ridiculous now. Her thin, curve-less body, overly long legs and awkward hands, hair not yet long enough for a decent style, and lack of body fat — despite some finally filling out her bra — made her look more like a loose clothes hanger than a woman. Or even a person. The fitting room lighting didn't help either; the intense yellow glow of the bulbs highlighted every imperfection in the full-length mirror.
The biggest problem, however, was herself.
Viktoria was certain of who she was. There was no doubt: she was a woman, a scientist dedicated to creating a better world, even if it meant making personal sacrifices. And until two years ago, that was exactly what she did, neglecting her own well-being for the sake of the Hextech research she conducted with her partner, Jayce Talis. Then came a day — an ordinary one, unremarkable in hindsight — when she realized she simply couldn't take it anymore. She went to a doctor and admitted she needed to change, even if only a little; amidst trembling legs and an urge to dig a hole right there in the exam room, the physician understood her situation. Viktoria left with a list of tests to run, medications to buy, and a plan to follow.
It was strange to be this way. Viktoria had never considered herself a particularly vain person — save for her hygiene habits, though even those were justifiable, since she didn't want to be defined by her disability, and however difficult it was to groom herself while battling cold and pain, she strove to be the best-smelling person in the room. Even so, she had always viewed herself as humble, out of sheer practicality.
Then came the earrings. The makeup. The accessories, creams, nail polishes, and hair masks. Then there were the patterned clothes that needed to be coordinated with other pieces to create matching sets — including the shoes. Ah, the shoes. Finding them was always a nightmare. Her feet were small enough, but her right foot insisted on making life difficult — even when it came to fashion — and Viktoria felt a deep sense of dread whenever her soles wore down, knowing it meant hunting for new pairs.
One thing led to another, and before she knew it, Viktoria found herself deeply dissatisfied with her appearance. Her body was taking on a pleasing shape thanks to the hormones, and she could manage her lips and eyes with a touch of red, but whenever she saw the women of Piltover, a new longing stirred within her. Even though she felt good looking in her bathroom mirror, she wanted to share her identity more openly, to go further.
So, she told Jayce. He understood, though he’d nearly collapsed to the floor in a panic at first, fearing she was about to tell him her health was failing or something similar. “Of course it’s not a problem! Why are you apologizing?” Jayce had said, after she’d offered a string of excuses. “I kind of always suspected, actually…”
Viktoria blushed, her reflection instantly betraying the flush. She couldn't suppress a smile at remembering how easily Jayce had accepted it. Not that she needed approval — don't ask for permission to change the world, right? — but it was a relief and a joy to be accepted like that. And it was sweet the way Jayce would glare at assistants who made sexist jokes near them, the way he’d bring her magazines featuring models who reminded him of her, and how he’d gift her the tights, jewelry, and shoes that Cait recommended. Jayce was sweet. He was an intelligent, determined, handsome man, and...
Way out of her league.
“Damn it,” she complained as the zipper got stuck halfway up. It was never easy to put something on that zipped up the back, but it was even harder with the pins installed along her spine. Another source of dismay: even though she could afford it now, she didn't want to undergo more surgeries — not when they posed a risk to her health. Luckily, she had managed to get some fullness in the bust area, but the rest would have to be forgotten. She would just have to make it work. Even if, half the time, she felt ridiculous trying to pull it off.
I’ll never stand a chance, she decided to think rather than say aloud. The sales clerk would eventually think she was crazy. The thought hovered in limbo — did she mean no chance of looking the way she wanted, or no chance with Jayce as a potential girlfriend? Even Viktoria herself couldn't be sure of what was the answer.
Her fingers grew sweaty as she wrestled with the zipper again, until she gave a tug and it snapped. Luckily, the dress opened up, allowing her to take it off, but the humiliation lingered in the form of the torn-off plastic piece still in her hand. Viktoria stared at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back.
Dark circles, pimples, moles, and blood flowing beneath the skin of her neck, painting her image in shades of red, purple, yellow, and white.
Her face drew closer — deep furrows, a crooked nose, angles all pointing in the wrong directions...
“Viktoria? Are you there?”
The shock of hearing that made her flinch, her foot nearly striking the cane propped against the stool. The voice was cheerful, masculine, and slightly unsure. Jayce. How did he know she was there?
“Jayce?”
“Oh, it really is you. Which room are you in, ten or nine?”
And before Viktoria could ask anything:
“Cait told me you were around here. Why did you come alone? Didn't I tell you I’d go shopping with you?”
Viktoria hadn't answered the previous question, yet Jayce seemed to know exactly where she was (had he crouched down to confirm those were her feet? Did Jayce recognize her by something she judged so wrong?), and he kept talking while Viktoria tried to take off the dress and make herself look more presentable for her partner.
“I came because I needed a new belt, but had to stay at the lab to hand those documents to Sky... Oh, right, we’re going to have to review the materials from that spreadsheet of that company... Vik?”
She already had her trousers back on — her simple, drab uniform that she hadn't yet changed out of, even after so many years.
“What are you trying on?”
“Oh…” The disappointment in herself was all too obvious in her own voice. “Nothing special. I wanted... eh... a dress.”
“Oh, I see. Did you find a good one?”
“Not exactly.”
Her reflection seemed to silently complain why didn't you try to lie? as her bangs fell into her eyes. There was a pause between her words and that self-judgment, until Jayce’s voice returned.
“Can I pick something out for you?”
This time, Viktoria didn't look at herself, but at the wooden door separating them. From where she stood, she could feel her colleague's warmth. His slightly sheepish smile. His handsome face.
“Or maybe you're looking for something specific, I don't know…”
“I do want it,” the words came out more firmly than she’d expected. She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat earlier and sat down, easing the strain on her spine. “Whatever you pick, I'll try it.”
“Really?”
Was it just her, or did Jayce sound a little too pleased?
“Yes. I trust you, Jayce. I believe you have good taste. Just nothing too short or revea—”
“Alright, stay there!”
Not that she had a choice. Her heart was pounding too hard, and she’d probably have a panic attack if she tried to stand up now. She might even lack the strength to stay upright and end up fainting against the locked door.
Luckily, the sales clerks were nice and gave them some space, because the wait felt like hours — endless moments where Viktoria stared at her reflection, trying to find an expression that showed she might actually be up for this. Maybe she wasn't as insignificant to Jayce as she’d initially thought.
And it wasn't hard to imagine that kind of thing, since, technically, it was already happening. It was a far cry from the movie-and-bookstore-and-dinner-and-shopping dates Viktoria used to fantasize about, but it was enough. Sometimes she dreamed of just the two of them talking under the covers in the dead of night; sometimes she preferred picturing them sitting in a random park, sharing ice cream cones; sometimes she liked imagining them in their usual haunts, finding magic in simply holding hands. Any scenario where their eyes met and Jayce reached for her hand would be enough.
Two knocks on the door snapped her out of her reverie, and Viktoria opened it just a crack to take whatever Jayce had chosen. She was surprised not only that he had caught her eye — even though she was trying to hide — but also by the sheer number of items: it wasn't just one dress that had arrived, but seven or eight.
Once again, it was a good thing the sales assistants were nice. If an ordinary person would have taken a while to leave, Viktoria was going to spend a long time trying things on.
“Show me when you finish putting each one on, okay?”
She nodded — even though she knew Jayce could no longer see her — hung up almost all the dresses and sat down to examine the first one: it was brown, reached her shins, and had a V-neck deep enough to show a bit of her chest. It was pretty, simple, with light fabric, the kind to wear for summer or spring.
It took Viktoria a while to put it on, and she felt a bit self-conscious, but she showed it to Jayce anyway. He smiled and complimented her, but, even as that ear-to-ear grin remained on his face, he declared:
“I think the others will look even better.”
Strangely enough, he was right. With every piece she showed him, she was able to see something that fit better — the neckline wasn't too wide, the sleeves didn't itch, and the way her legs looked in the outfit didn't seem inappropriate. Shorter skirts, longer ones, puffed sleeves, sheer midriffs, open backs, each piece had something unique that made Viktoria realize new things about herself — qualities, even, judging by the way Jayce’s eyes lingered on certain parts of her body.
Sometimes the zipper would stick, the ties looked clumsy, or something fit too loosely. But nothing was frustrating enough to make her forget the heat that washed over her whenever she caught Jayce looking.
“Here, try this one too,” he asked as she was showing him the second-to-last option, a green cotton dress.
“I’m taking up too much of your time already.”
“What time? I was planning to spend the day with you anyway.”
“I don't know wh—Jayce?” She held the dress up by the shoulders — it was the only brightly colored one so far. “What is this?”
“The dress you're going to wear to our dinner tonight,” he replied, smiling innocently. “Just the two of us, of course.”
The heat rushed to her head so quickly that Viktoria shut the door in his face, barely registering whether it was rude to do or not. She wanted to laugh but was too stunned to react logically, so she took a moment to look at the dress again. It was a bold red, almost wine-colored.
The color of House Talis...
She opened the door.
“A-Are you sure? Jayce, are you really asking me the kind of thing I think you are?”
“Well, what do you think I’m asking you?”
No, she couldn't handle that kind of teasing if she happened to be wrong. She didn't want to let her hopes rise only to be disappointed by the truth. Not that a chance was impossible; after all, Jayce had always been friendlier with her, touching her in ways he didn't touch others, giving her gifts, remembering her favorite foods and tools, and sometimes commenting on how good she smelled or how nice her hair looked...
Oh.
“Are you sure?” she repeated, less to resolve the doubt in her heart and more because she wanted to see the confirmation. She wanted it. She wanted it so badly. But did Jayce really want it, or was he a hostage to circumstance?
Jayce smiled at the thought. Standing there leaning against the wall, he didn't look tired of waiting. In fact, he looked quite at ease — as if Viktoria could take all the time in the world to get ready.
“It's a date, then,” Jayce confirmed, looking just as relieved as she was to see her holding the dress against her body, as if already trying it on.
Feeling the silk against her chest, she blushed once more. It was a simple piece, yet far more elegant than anything she owned; the color lent an air of nobility, the cut added volume to her bust while gently accentuating the curve of her backside, and the open back — while not something she would have chosen of her own accord — felt incredibly comfortable.
Likely because she knew that when she stepped out wearing it, there would be a hand there to cover what the dress left exposed.
“Jayce, can you, please?” She turned to give him access to the zipper, and Jayce stepped into the fitting room to oblige — his large hand guided the fabric up to her waist, and with a smile, he said:
“You look so beautiful.”
On top of everything else, Jayce knew her size; the dress fit like a glove, settling onto her body as if it had always belonged to her.
And later that night, it slid off her body just as easily.