She woke up in the middle of the night, the sliver of the moon hitting her eyelids, lightly rustling her out of insalubrious slumber. Caitlyn brushed her dark navy locks from her forehead as she rolled over.
Her sleep these days was like a fawn being chased by an unseen predator, never catching up with her but feeling its presence stalking her.
Even since the attempted takeover of Piltover by Noxus was dated well over years ago, she felt as if her duties and responsibilities never caught up on itself, endlessly working on rebuilding and leading as the Sheriff of the mighty city. As successful as she was, she always felt like she was running behind on everything; even if she knew the city wasn’t her sole responsibility, the guilt that weighed upon her like bricks on her shoulders wouldn’t allow her to rest. Never did she rest.
Especially after everything with her…
A feeling burned her from the inside, a fire starting in her belly, the smoke crawling from her lungs up to her throat, choking her. She couldn’t tell if it was remorse, pity, resentment, or something else.
After that fateful night, things between her and Vi fell apart. She didn’t know when and where things began to unravel, but their nights of passion and lust were often overshadowed by anger, pain, shame, and endless nights of fighting to keep their shit together. Until they both decided that this, that they, weren’t meant for this.
Oil and water she always said. Maybe that’s the way it was supposed to be.
Yet, here she was, lying next to her in her bed.
Caitlyn hesitated to trace her fingers along Vi’s spine, the twist and turns of her tattoos like a winding road, tempting her to place her hand on the small of her muscular back. But she held back.
She’s not mine to have.
The years that passed weren’t kind to either of them. Caitlyn had streaks of grey in her hair, her cheekbones once soft now held sharp, chiseled frown lines, the glimmer in her own eyes absent most days. Vi seemed paler these days, dark circles under her eyes, her body still as hard as stone, but the fire in her spirit dampened over time. Her long mane of carmine red lay along her back, the shaved side of her head prickling Caitlyn’s hand while she would draw her fingers through her locks.
Caitlyn drew her hand back. What am I doing? She sat up, her sheets falling off her.
She pretended not to notice the flutter of Vi’s eyelids, as if she had been feigning sleep this whole time. But Vi didn’t rouse. Only soft breaths and the rise and fall of her shoulders.
Every now and then they would do this. Whenever Caitlyn would travel to Zaun while off duty, she would meet Vi. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes not, sometimes in unexpected places. Most of the time, they would say and do nothing more than a cordial greeting.
But every now and then, they end up seeing each other at a dive bar of some sort. Herself with a glass of red wine, Vi with a whiskey sour.
And every now and then they end up in each other’s bedrooms. Ripping at each other’s skin like feral dogs tearing at meat, lips and teeth mashing with an abandoned fervor, sweating and panting feverishly.
And every now and then, they would end up spending the night. Most of the time, one or the other would leave in the middle of the night, with no trace, as if nothing happened and they would forget each other until the next encounter.
But every now and then, they would stay over. She felt the ghost of Vi’s fingers digging into her back, her teeth sinking into her neck, her breath heavy against her ear. She felt her sweat and hair sticking to her skin, internalized every movement that would make the brawny woman beneath her writhe and moan, the heat of their fire coaxed by an iron stoker forged by carnality.
It was not the first time, and it would not be the last, that they would do this.
But this fire won’t last.
The summer air, however gentle blowing through Caitlyn’s curtains, was thick with humidity. Yet Caitlyn’s skin was goosebumps, as if a block of ice were touching her and sliding down her chest like a glacier moving through the ocean. She shivered slightly. Her brain registered the heat of the July night, but her body said otherwise.
She tried parsing her feelings out after every “meeting” they had. Was this just lust? Hate? Regret?
They never spoke in words what they wanted. Their bodies mostly did the talking.
This time, though, it felt different. Like the static from a storm, lightning elucidating the clouds in a torrid sky.
She didn’t realize that Vi had woken up, staring at her through half-lidded eyes. Eyes, grey as the clouds on a wintery day, staring through her own stark blue ones.
It was then that Caitlyn knew what she was feeling.
It was fear.
Fear that someday, they wouldn’t have this. Fear that someday, they would never end up working through their feelings and realize what they truly wanted. Fear that someday, she would be gone, and Caitlyn would not have the chance to say goodbye.
And for the first time, in so many years, years of scathing arguments and deep sighs, years of silent tears and pursed lips, furrowed brows and hand-wringing, she saw something she didn’t think she would see again.
She saw Vi smile.
That block of ice was melting. Vi looking up at her with a rare warmth that they only shared with each other.
“Hey there, cupcake.”
Caitlyn then knew.
She was never lost. She was always hers.
You're sippin' on my body
like its red wine
I'm sittin' pretty hoping
That you'll stay the night
And if you say you want me
I could make you mine
You know I want you, right?