Everything felt overwhelming.
The burning sting of the cold counter against her flushed skin, the bright fluorescent lights that imprinted themselves into her retinas, the syrupy sweet words that spilled from Caitlyn’s lips like thick molasses, coating her joints and insides and making every movement she dared take feel incredibly sluggish.
The cold, metal faucet handle beneath her fingertips grounded her just enough as she turned on the water, freezing water flowing freely into the basin of the sink. She cupped her hands, capturing the liquid in her palms and splashing it in her face, hoping it’d work just enough to sort out the thoughts swirling mercilessly around her head.
Cold, wet hands gripped the edge of the countertop, leaving thick residual droplets behind. It was a smudge on the image of perfection the mansion held, where nothing was ever out of place. Not a single crack in the foundations of these deep, sage green walls. Not a single cracked tile that dust would slowly collect in, nor a leaky ceiling that had to be aided by stained metal pots or spare, empty vases during a storm. Everything was in place, from books that resided on the bookshelves, organized by author like a library and the clothes sorted by color and material into their assigned drawers, down to the sharpshooter trophies, shined and cleaned to perfection, that lined Caitlyn’s dresser.
Vi felt strangely out of place within these pristine, perfect walls. No matter how hard she tried to stay true to herself, to be unapologetically authentic like she always had been, being here, being in Piltover, felt like everything was being stripped away from her piece by piece.
When it wasn’t looks of critical judgement from Piltovian residents, or whispers as she walked by, it was randoms giving her the same bullshit spiel about how she was “one of the good ones” or some other shallow, blatantly insensitive comment.
She was always reduced to one of two things.
Her place of origin, the lack of money and resources she had growing up that warrants so much faux sympathy made her sick, and all the things she had to do to keep herself and her family alive that made her a criminal in the eyes of the privileged. If not that, then it was the uniform she chose to put on, the one that she put on to keep others alive. She no longer wore the badge, no longer had to experience the uniform, two sizes too small, that restricted her movements and her breathing all the same. It felt like a noose around her throat.
In a way, it was a noose. Becoming an enforcer was basically social suicide. It isolated her not only from Zaun, from the very few people she had left, but from her peers in Piltover, too. She didn’t miss the way people looked at her, a gaze so devoid of respect simply because they couldn’t view her as anything more than a filthy criminal or some sad sob story, depending on the person.
Everything felt wrong. The clothes she wore, tailored to fit like a glove that reminded her far too much of the uniform she could never escape with how it hugged her too tight, or the food she ate that was so decadent and rich it hurt her stomach.
She was a long way from home, that much was obvious.
And Caitlyn tried, she really did. She tried to make her feel more at home. She connected with venders that specialized in Zaun’s cuisine, and tried to imitate food from Vi’s childhood. That’s all it tasted like, though, just an imitation. She’d probably never taste the real thing ever again.
Caitlyn also bought her more things than she could count; clothes that didn’t feel immensely suffocating, that felt a little more her, or books that Vi would look at a little too long when reading the summary. She meant well, and Vi knew that, deep down, but she felt smothered. Caitlyn paid such close attention to her that she felt like she couldn’t even breathe without somehow doing it wrong. If her exhale came out as a bit more of a sigh, or her resting face looked more troubled and restless than it did relaxed, Caitlyn would instantly analyze her like a case that needed solving rather than someone who just needed a little time. Time to mourn, time to simply feel her feelings.
It was all too much.
Maybe that’s why she savoured these moments, the ones where she found herself alone with her unfiltered thoughts and feelings. Even if those moments were spent in Caitlyn’s unnecessarily lavish bathroom, leaning over the sink with her face dripping wet after an attempt to calm her nervous system, she’d still have room to breathe.
Even then, it wasn’t what she wanted. She felt selfish for even thinking that way, like she’d always crave something different, but she wasn’t used to this. The vast mansion she now lived in, the rich cuisine she got to eat night after night, the luxury bed she got to sleep in with the woman she loved. She craved something… simpler. Life somewhere where she wouldn’t feel bound by expectations.
Why am I here?
She was here because Caitlyn was, simple as that, but even something so simple had threads of complication woven into it. She finally found the strength to lift her head and make eye contact with herself in the mirror. The person looking back at her barely felt like her. She felt like a stranger. In this city, in this house, in this body, she felt like a stranger. It’s a feeling she’d grown used to, especially after her time in Stillwater, but she’d never had to confront it face first. There weren’t exactly mirrors in prison, at least not ones that remained clean and unbroken that wouldn’t distort her reflection. She’d never had to confront the stranger in the mirror.
She tore her eyes away from the reflection, turned on the faucet one more, and splashed more cold water on her face. She had to get out of her head, it never did her any good. Afterwards, she pulled a face towel from the towel ring anchored in the wall, and, all too harshly, dried the droplets clinging to her skin. She attempted to fold the towel and hang it back on the towel ring, but it was all wrinkled and damp now. She opted for throwing it in the small hamper that sat in the corner, and decided she’d been in the bathroom long enough. Any longer now and it’d warrant questioning from Caitlyn, which, quite frankly, she didn’t have the energy for.
Vi fumbled with the light switch, aimlessly pressing the buttons in an attempt to turn off the lights, but they only got a little dimmer as she did. It took a couple seconds longer for her to find the right button and press it, which plunged the bathroom into darkness. She stood in the darkness, allowing herself a moment longer to collect herself, and only then did she open the bathroom door and re-enter Caitlyn’s room.
Her eyes fell upon Caitlyn, wearing her royal blue silk robe, beautiful as ever. The moonlight that spilled from the open curtain like liquid silver made her look like a goddess, complimenting her features perfectly. In that moment, Vi felt like a mere mortal, undeserving of such a sight. Caitlyn’s cobalt hair fell over the pillows she laid upon, almost like a deep blue halo. Maybe she really was a goddess.
If this was heaven, or some place far beyond the Earth, she’d happily die a hundred times over just for a single, blissfully sweet second.
Caitlyn’s eyes met Vi’s, like a beautiful cerulean ocean meeting stormy, gray skies. Vi felt the rushing blood creep up her neck, dusting her cheeks and undoubtedly the tips of her ears.
“You’re all flushed.” Caitlyn teased. The goddess in front of her lifted herself from her position on the bed, deep cobalt blue cascading down her back as she did so. She got up from the bed, tall legs stretching as she sauntered over to Vi in an almost flirtatious manner.
“Yeah, well it’s hard not to be when you’re so…” Vi felt herself grow speechless as Caitlyn stood right infront of her, chuckling softly and wrapping her arms around Vi’s neck. Vi’s hands instantly came up to rest on Caitlyn’s hips.
“When I’m so what, darling?”
“So… gorgeous…”
But gorgeous didn’t even begin to describe the woman that was Caitlyn Kiramman. She was ethereal, she was breathtaking, she was the embodiment of perfection. Being this close to Caitlyn, she could see the way the woman’s cheeks flushed faintly at the compliment, and the soft smile that tugged at her lips, and god it only made her even more gorgeous, which Vi didn’t even think was possible, and her breath caught in her throat.
“Come lie down with me, Violet?” Caitlyn requested, unhooking her arms from around Vi’s neck. She would’ve felt disappointed at the loss of contact, but she got to cuddle with this glorious woman night after night for the rest of her life, what was a few seconds?
Vi didn’t even think of arguing against Caitlyn’s request, instantly following the woman to their shared bed and lying down next to her. She didn’t hesitate to pull Caitlyn into her arms, and Caitlyn in turn laid her head against Vi’s chest.
Candles flickered on the bedside table, casting a soft glow over the pair. The candles made the room smell faintly of something floral and cozy, and the blankets, having been recently washed, smelled like fresh laundry. Nothing compared to Caitlyn, though. As Caitlyn laid against her chest, she could smell her floral, slightly woodsy shampoo and the sweet but gentle perfume she wore, a scent that was so authentically Caitlyn she couldn’t help but breathe it in and let it relax every muscle in her body. The atmosphere lulled them both into a blissful sort of sleepy state, and a content sigh escaped Caitlyn’s lips.
“Goodnight, Violet… I love you…” The woman murmured, clearly half asleep.
I love you.
I love you.
I love you?
Those words, those four words, were enough to sober her up from her love-drunk state. Caitlyn had never outright said she loved Vi. She never needed to, not when their actions spoke louder than words. Maybe that’s why the words shocked her to her core. Maybe that’s why she was struggling to say it now. That’s all it was, Caitlyn caught her by surprise.
At least, that’s what she’d say to help herself sleep tonight.
It had been weeks since Caitlyn uttered those three simple words, but they still felt fresh in Vi’s mind. There were many times throughout the day where she’d pause, think about the way those beautiful words fell from Caitlyn’s lips, and feel a flutter in her chest.
It didn’t feel like butterflies, the ones she always got from being with Caitlyn. No, this felt different. She felt… nervous. She wasn’t exactly sure why she felt that way, they said I love you at least twenty times a day just through their actions, but actually hearing it aloud was another thing.
I love you, too, she wanted to say, but she never found out how. Never found the time, never found the words. She couldn’t work it into normal conversation, that felt too… awkward.
‘Hey Cait, how was work? Yeah? I love you.’
No. That felt as though she was just saying it to say it, to ease the weight of those four words that weighed heavy in her chest. She needed to say it like she meant it, to say it naturally, but she just couldn’t.
Everything felt wrong.
So, there she laid in Caitlyn’s bed, unable to sleep soundly for the third night in a row. There was a sort of guilt, and it steadily ate away at her, making her feel nauseous and disoriented. Caitlyn was a bit of a restless sleeper, and had rolled to the opposite side of the bed in her deep sleep hours ago. Vi was wide awake though, her nerves frayed from so much nervous energy. She had to get this out somehow. She got up, finding her way to the door of Caitlyn’s room, and found her way down the hallway.
She walked aimlessly around the mansion, no particular direction in mind. She just needed to burn off some steam. Maybe then, she’d be able to sleep soundly, maybe then the knot in her stomach would loosen enough for her to feel relatively normal, even for a few hours.
As she walked barefoot down the cold, desolate hallways, and found herself walking down a grand staircase and into what she assumed was the living room. She’d never get used to the size of the place. She looked around the place, a green couch with golden accents and a matching throne-like chair opposite of eachother, a coffee table of the sorts in the center lined with vases and candlesticks.
The luxurious furniture wasn’t what caught her eye though, far from it. What caught her eye was a huge family portrait that hung from the sage green walls, lined with a large golden frame. Little Caitlyn, posing with a rifle that was almost bigger than her, alongside her father and her mother.
In the portrait, Caitlyn looked maybe a bit younger than Vi was when she went to Stillwater, thirteen maybe fourteen years old. For some reason, that thought alone only made the guilt, the feeling of isolation that tied themselves together to form a knot in her stomach, even worse.
How could I have been so stupid, so delusional? How could I have ever thought we could somehow work this out?
The two of them were worlds apart, Vi had always known that, but the extent of how far apart they were had never dawned upon Vi until now. She sat down on the couch, staring at the empty vases on the coffee table.
She loved Caitlyn, she’d always love Caitlyn, but Caitlyn deserved someone better. She deserved to be with someone who she wouldn’t drag her down, someone who she wouldn’t get judged and questioned for being with. She deserved better than what Vi had to offer.
And that realization made Vi’s stomach sink.
Vi would never be able to give Caitlyn what she needed. She was too rough around the edges, too scarred and broken. She had too much baggage, too much grief. Caitlyn shouldn’t have to bend over backwards to love her.
She dragged herself back up the stairs, down the large, winding hallways, and back to Caitlyn’s room. She walked over to the bed, where Caitlyn was still fast asleep, and sat down on the edge of the bed beside her. Even asleep, she was beautiful. She gently touched Caitlyn’s cheek, stroking the soft skin of her cheek.
She observed Caitlyn as she slept, for just a single moment longer, and sighed. She pulled herself away from Caitlyn’s sleeping form. If she didn’t do this now, she’d never be able to. She found a piece of loose leaf paper and a pen on Caitlyn’s vanity, and began writing. Vi’s hands, which were usually so steady and self assured, shook as she wrote, making some of her letters come out wobbly.
As she finished up the letter, she folded it up, walking back over to the bed and placing it on Caitlyn’s bedside table. She gave Caitlyn one last kiss on the forehead, gentle as to not wake her, and pulled herself away. She lingered by the door for what felt like hours, but in reality was probably only five minutes at most, and finally pulled herself away, leaving the room, leaving the mansion, leaving Caitlyn.
I’ll always love you, Cait.
⋆˙⟡
The sun poured in through the sage green curtains, spilling across the bed like liquid gold and pooling in the creases of the blanket. Caitlyn stirred awake, just barely opening her eyes before being blinded by the sun. She let out a soft groan, turning over and moving closer to Vi. She reached out for Vi, attempting to wrap her arms around the woman who held her close night after night, but she was met with an empty bed, just barely warmed by the sun filtering in through the large window.
When she realized Vi wasn’t in bed, she opened her eyes fully, taking a moment to adjust to her surroundings before pulling herself into a seated position. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes, blinking a bit to adjust to the brightness.
Vi?
Caitlyn looked around the room, initially wondering if maybe Vi had just woken up earlier than Caitlyn had and perched herself by the window with the book she was reading at the time. When her eyes settled on the space her girlfriend usually occupied in the early morning, but she wasn’t there either.
Okay, no need to panic, Caitlyn. She’s probably down in the kitchen.
Usually when Vi wasn’t reading early in the morning, she was down in the kitchen making breakfast for the both of them. Caitlyn may have had personal chefs and kitchen staff who handled the cooking, but occasionally, Vi would become a bit restless, and cooking was her outlet of choice.
Okay, no need to panic, Caitlyn. She’s just down in the kitchen.
Caitlyn slipped on her fleece lined slippers, which warmed her feet in an instant as opposed to the cold tile that would’ve otherwise unpleasantly greeted her feet. She took long strides over to the bedroom door, and navigated her way to the kitchen in record breaking time.
Despite it being early in the morning, Charlotte, the Kiramman family’s head chef, was busying herself with meal preparation. She paused in cutting the vegetables and set the knife aside, greeting Caitlyn with a warm, friendly smile.
“Hello, Ms. Kiramman. Did you need something?”
“Hello, Charlotte. My apologies for bothering you, but have you seen Vi anywhere?”
“Hmm… No, I don’t think I have, I’m sorry Ms. Kiramman. I don’t mean to overstep, but doesn’t she typically stay with you?”
“Not an overstep at all. She does, yes, but I haven’t seen her. You wouldn’t mind keeping an eye out for me, would you?”
Charlotte nodded. “Will do, Ms. Kiramman. I’ll come and find you if she turns up.”
“Thank you, Charlotte.” Caitlyn gave a polite nod before leaving the kitchen.
That’s alright. So, she’s not in the kitchen… she’s probably in the library.
But Vi wasn’t in the library.
She wasn’t in the garden, or the living room, the dining room, nor any of the guest bedrooms. She was nowhere to be seen. All of this had led Caitlyn back to the bedroom, retracing her steps from the night before.
We had dinner, and then we took a stroll in the garden. After that we had a relaxing shower, and settled into bed for the night…
What am I missing?
Caitlyn took her lower lip between her teeth, biting the skin there as she surveyed the room. She searched. Searched for anything that may’ve been out of place. Her eyes landed upon a folded lavender page that resided on the bedside table.
How did I not notice that before?
She released her lip from between her teeth, and gently took the letter from the bedside table, unfolding it. Despite her best efforts, she scanned over the letter faster than she could read it, and had to reread it a few times before the weight of the indigo ink really sunk in.
She felt her heart break, shaking hands holding the letter tight as they sat in her lap. She couldn’t be gone. She couldn’t be. The woman who single handedly put the moon and the stars in Caitlyn’s otherwise dark skies, the woman who dragged her from her fits of grief, and anger, the woman who, despite it all, stuck with her through every hardship sprung on them. The woman with a smile that could light up a room, someone so gentle and nurturing yet so fiercely protective. The woman who’s scent lulled her off to sleep every night, who fought off the nightmares in her head with her own bare hands. The woman who would do anything to make sure she was happy, healthy and safe. The woman she wanted to one day make her wife.
Please, tell me she isn’t gone.
⋆˙⟡
Cait,
I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. I’m sorry I couldn’t find the cure to the storm in my head by laying in your arms, or among your scent, or in every ray of light you bring into my life. I’m sorry I couldn’t be someone better, someone with softer edges, someone you could show off to the world free of judgement.
I’m too torn by the past that I can’t love you like you need to be loved in the present. You deserve to love someone who isn’t half a ghost, someone who doesn’t lose themselves in the silence, someone who can love and be loved without all the fear and doubt. I love you too much to keep breaking your heart every time I can’t say those three words back. Even if I could never bring myself to say it aloud, I do love you, by the way. As much as I’m capable of loving anyone, even if that’ll never be enough to make me stay. I’m sorry.
Love, Vi.