Behind Blue Eyes

The Last Drop was quieter than usual tonight. Powder’s excitement over her Academy acceptance had filled the bar earlier, her laughter and animated chatter lifting the usual gloom like a rare burst of sunlight. But now, the energy had dimmed. Powder had drifted toward a corner of the room, tinkering with a gadget she’d brought along, her focus intense but her glances toward Vi frequent and worried. Vander stood behind the bar, wiping down glasses in his usual steady rhythm, but Vi could feel his watchful eyes on her as she sat slumped at a table near the wall.

The pain behind her eyes had appeared again, slicing through her skull like an unforgiving blade. The ache was becoming more frequent, the shimmer she’d taken the night before barely dulling it for long. She leaned her elbows on the table, pressing her fingers against her temples as if that could somehow ease the pressure. Though she knew she couldn’t. The relief shimmer once gave her was fading with every dose. It had been a dangerous gamble to start, but now it was a failing one. Her body craved more, demanded it even, but each use felt like striking a match in Janna’s wind. She would need to meet Silco again soon; an encounter she loathed with every fiber of her being.

Silco’s name alone set her body on edge. It didn’t matter that he and Vander shared some tenuous, grudging respect; Vi had never trusted him. She’d never liked him, either. His silky, calculated tone grated on her nerves, like nails dragged across metal. The memory of his unsettling, mismatched eyes lingered in her mind, one gleaming with quiet cunning, the other a warped abyss. There was something about him that felt inherently wrong, like the rot in the corners of Zaun’s streets, growing in places it didn’t belong.

But her distaste for him wasn’t enough to keep her away. Silco controlled the shimmer supply in the Undercity, and she needed it, no matter how much she hated herself for it. She couldn’t let Vander know, couldn’t let Powder know. They would see it as a betrayal, as a sign of weakness. And maybe it was.

Her fingers pressed harder against her temples, the pain pounding in waves that threatened to overwhelm her. Just the thought of Silco’s smug expression made her stomach twist, but the truth was simple: she couldn’t endure the pain without shimmer. Every minute without it felt like another crack in the fragile front she tried to wear, a mask that kept Powder smiling, Vander hovering but calm, and everyone else at bay.

Vi’s hand dropped to the table, her fingers curling into a fist. She’d have to find a way to keep the meeting quick, impersonal. Get the shimmer and leave. No pleasantries, no lingering. Not that Silco ever let her go without some pointed remark or thinly veiled jab. He always saw too much, knew too much, and she hated how exposed she felt under his gaze.

She exhaled sharply, the sound drawing a brief glance from Powder before the girl quickly looked away. Vi knew she messed up. So she straightened slightly, forcing her posture to relax, masking the tension that coiled like a spring in her chest. Whatever it took, she would deal with Silco. She always did. But even as she thought it, the weight of the decision settled heavier on her shoulders.

The door creaked open, and Vi’s head snapped up, her muscles tensing instinctively. She didn’t need to see to know who it was; those measured, light footsteps were unmistakable now, even though it was only her third time hearing them. The weight of the visitor’s presence seemed to settle over the bar like an unwelcome fog, thick and intrusive.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Vi muttered under her breath, her fingers curling slightly against the worn wood of the table.

Caitlyn Kiramman stepped inside, her boots clicking softly against the scuffed floorboards. The quiet hum of the bar seemed to hush even further as she approached, her presence an odd contrast to the dim, rough edges of The Last Drop. Caitlyn didn’t belong here, and yet, there she was, her polished demeanor slicing through the haze.

Vi straightened in her seat further, her arms crossing over her chest as she fixed her eyes toward the sound of Caitlyn’s steps. Powder glanced up from her gadget, her face lighting up briefly with recognition before guilt flickered across her features. She ducked her head back down, pretending to be engrossed in her work, her movements suddenly more hesitant than before.

“Good evening,” Caitlyn said, her voice polite, carrying an air of careful confidence. “I hope I’m not intruding.”

Vi tilted her head toward her, her lips curling into a sneer. “You again. What do you want now?” The irritation in her tone was unmistakable, her words flying through the fragile air like a whip.

“I wanted to talk,” Caitlyn said, stopping a few paces away from Vi’s table. Her voice softened, but there was no mistaking the resolve behind it. “Properly this time.”

“Talk?” Vi let out a harsh, humorless laugh, leaning back in her chair as if Caitlyn’s presence were more amusing than irritating. “And what makes you think I’ve got anything to say to you?”

Caitlyn hesitated, her hands clasped lightly in front of her, the small gesture betraying a hint of uncertainty. “I am afraid I may owe you another apology,” she said carefully, each word practiced. “For the previous night. I realize I have overstepped.”

Vi arched an eyebrow, though her expression remained hard. “Oh, you realize now? That’s rich. Typical Piltie—always late to the party.”

“I didn’t—” Caitlyn started, her voice tightening with frustration, but Vi didn’t let her finish.

“Powder,” Vi said abruptly, her voice carrying across the room. “Why don’t you remind our guest here how she learned my name in the first place?”

Powder flinched, her hands stilling over the small device in her lap. She glanced up, her blue eyes wide with guilt, before quickly looking back down. “I didn’t mean to,” she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. “I was just… excited.”

Caitlyn’s gaze shifted to Powder, her expression softening at the young girl’s unease. “It wasn’t her fault,” she said gently, her tone almost soothing. “She—”

“Don’t,” Vi interrupted, her tone cold and unrelenting. “Don’t defend her, and don’t act like you know her. You don’t know a damn thing about either of us.”

Caitlyn stiffened slightly at the rebuke, but her composure didn’t falter. Instead, her gaze flicked back to Vi, her brow furrowing as if considering her next words carefully. Then, with a faint, almost amused tilt of her head, she spoke. “Vi, I’m unsure if you’re aware,” she said evenly, gesturing toward her own cheek in a pointed motion, though she knew the woman wouldn’t see it,“but your name is on your face.”

Vi froze for a split second, her smirk faltering as the words hit her. She had completely forgotten about the tattoo; bold, stark letters etched permanently into her skin. When she’d gotten it, along with the sprawling design that covered her back, ran down the back of her arms, and climbed up her neck, it hadn’t been about practicality. It had been about claiming something; her identity, her body, her life. The fact that she couldn’t see it had never mattered.

She’d been high when she got them, stumbling into a dingy tattoo parlor in the depths of the Zaun. The artist, a gruff man with stained hands, hadn’t asked questions. He’d just nodded and done the work, the needle buzzing against her skin for hours as she gritted her teeth through the pain. She remembered Vander’s reaction vividly, his voice thick with frustration when he’d first seen the fresh ink. “Why the hells would you get tattoos when you can’t even see them?” he’d demanded.

But Vi had simply shrugged him off. She wanted them. She’d always wanted them. Being blind didn’t change that. They were hers, a defiant statement to the world and to herself that she was still Vi, no matter what had been taken from her. That was three years ago, and now the tattoos were just another part of her, as much a part of her identity as the scars she bore.

From behind the bar, Vander cleared his throat, a low, funny sound that was suspiciously close to a laugh. Vi’s jaw tightened, her irritation spiking as she felt the amusement radiating from him. He wasn’t going to say anything, of course he rarely did unless she really pushed him but the subtle reprimand was there, hovering in the air between them.

“I’m not here to cause you any more turmoil,” Caitlyn said, her voice calm but unwavering. “I just wanted to… to get to know you as an individual.”

Vi’s laugh came again more bitter this time. “You want to get to know me? Why? So you can run back to Piltover and report all the weird little details you learned slumming it in the Undercity? Or maybe you’re just bored. Looking for a bit of excitement to spice up your prudish, pristine life up top?”

Caitlyn’s tone didn’t waver, her words measured but resolute. “I’m here because I want to be,” she said firmly. “And no one sent me. This has nothing to do with my position as Sheriff.”

Vi arched an eyebrow, though her unseeing eyes remained cold and distant. “Yeah, sure. And I’m just supposed to take your word for it? Forgive me, m’lady, if I’m not exactly brimming with trust.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” Caitlyn replied evenly, her gaze steady. “However, everything I said is the truth.”

The pain behind Vi’s eyes throbbed again, a sharp and relentless ache that threatened to unravel her already frayed patience. Her fingers twitched against the edge of the table as she considered her next move. Finally, she shoved her chair back, the legs scraping loudly against the worn floorboards as she stood. Her movements were intentional, each step slow and calculated as she approached Caitlyn. Her hand brushed lightly against the edge of the table to guide her, her other arm hanging loose at her side, though her body radiated tension.

When she stopped just short of Caitlyn, she tilted her head slightly, her lips pulling into a humorless smirk. “Listen, Sheriff,” she said, her voice low and laced with warning. “You don’t get to waltz in here like you own the place, act like we’re old friends, and expect me to roll out the welcome mat. You want to know me? Earn that right.”

Caitlyn’s shoulders straightened, her posture as composed as ever despite the venom in Vi’s tone. “Then allow me to try,” she said simply, her voice calm and steady.

Vi let out a short, humorless laugh, shaking her head as if the sheer absurdity of the situation was almost too much to process. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she muttered, her smirk fading into something more guarded. “But guts don’t mean shit to me.”

“That’s your valid opinion,” Caitlyn replied, her tone quiet but resolute. “However, I’m not leaving.”

Vi’s lips pressed into a thin line, her unseeing eyes narrowing as she leaned closer, her presence still commanding despite her lack of sight. “Then you’re either brave or stupid,” she said coldly, her voice dropping into a whisper. “Guess we’ll find out which one soon enough.”

Vander cleared his throat again, louder this time, the sound cutting through the tension like a mediator. Vi turned her head toward him, her irritation flaring as her brows furrowed. “You just gonna stand there and let her stay?” she demanded, her voice pointed and biting.

“She’s not causing trouble,” Vander replied evenly, his tone calm but firm, though there was a subtle undercurrent of amusement in his words. “Plus, it’s entertaining to watch you puff out your chest like that. Very intimidating, kid.”

Vi let out a sharp exhale, her hands balling into fists at her sides before she ran one through her hair in frustration. “The fuck, Vander!” she snapped, her cheeks burning with a blush she could feel creeping up her neck. She knew Caitlyn and everyone else in the bar could see it, which only added to her irritation. “Fine. Whatever. You’re no help, old man.”

Vander smirked faintly but said nothing more, his focus returning to the glass he was cleaning, though Vi could feel his silent amusement hanging in the air.

With a sharp pivot, Vi turned on her heel and stalked back toward the bar, her boots scuffing against the worn floorboards as she moved. Powder’s gaze followed her, wide and uncertain, her expression a mix of guilt and worry. She looked like she wanted to say something but held her tongue, her hands fiddling nervously with the small gadget in her lap.

Caitlyn, unfazed by Vi’s sharpness, followed at a slower pace. Her steps were quiet, the soft click of her boots barely audible over the faint murmurs of the bar’s few other patrons. When she reached the bar, she slid onto one of the stools, her movements composed and measured. Vander raised an eyebrow at her, his lips twitching as if fighting back a grin, and Caitlyn offered him the faintest smile in return.

The silence that followed was thick and heavy, stretching out between them like a taut rope. The bar, though quieter than usual, felt even more subdued in the wake of the tense exchange. Vi busied herself behind the counter, her movements quick and purposeful as she wiped down the counter with aggressive strokes. The ache behind her eyes throbbed relentlessly, a constant, gnawing pain that shimmer couldn’t seem to dull anymore.

Her fingers brushed against the edge of a bottle, and she automatically adjusted its position on the shelf, her unseeing eyes staring straight ahead. She could feel Caitlyn’s presence just a few feet away, the weight of the woman’s gaze pressing down on her like a physical thing. It wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it was persistent, like a thread tugging at the edges of her attention no matter how hard she tried to focus on her task.

Caitlyn cleared her throat softly, the sound polite and insistent, Vi froze for a fraction of a second before resuming her work. “I wasn’t trying to upset you,” Caitlyn said finally, her voice calm but laced with something that sounded… earnest. “I came here because I wanted to understand. That is all.”

Vi snorted, her lips curling into a humorless smirk as she set the rag down and leaned her palms against the bar. “Understand what?” she shot back, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “What it’s like to hang out in the Undercity? To rub elbows with the scum down here? Is that what you’re after?”

Caitlyn shook her head, though Vi couldn’t see it, her voice steady as she replied. “No. I want to understand you.”

Vi turned her head slightly toward Caitlyn, her eyes narrowing. “Why?” she asked, the word coming out sharper than she intended.

“Because,” Caitlyn said, her tone soft but unwavering. “I think there’s more to you than you let people see.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unexpected, and for a moment, Vi didn’t know how to respond. The ache behind her eyes pulsed again, sharper this time, like a red-hot spike driving through her skull. She clenched her jaw tightly, her teeth grinding against each other as she fought to maintain her composure. She hated this, hated the vulnerability that came with being seen, even by someone like Caitlyn, who she didn’t even know. The bar felt smaller somehow, the weight of Caitlyn’s gaze pressing down on her like a spotlight she couldn’t escape.

Vi pushed off the counter, her movements deliberate but tense, her fingers instinctively brushing along the edge of the wood to guide her. Her other hand briefly skimmed the back of a stool as she turned, using its familiar shape to orient herself. “You think you want to know me?” she mumbled, her voice low and laced with venom. Her eyes stared straight ahead, her head tilting slightly as though she were sizing Caitlyn up despite the darkness that defined her being. “I’m not some pet you can parade around to your fancy friends topside.”

The words came out harsher than she intended, but Vi didn’t care. Let Caitlyn see the edge of her frustration, of her exhaustion. Let her know she wasn’t welcome here.

Caitlyn didn’t flinch at the anger in Vi’s tone. Instead, she leaned forward slightly, her elbows resting on the bar with a posture that spoke of quiet determination. “Then help me get to know you, Vi,” she said evenly. “And for clarification, I would never do what you suggested. You may have your reservations about me but not everyone from Piltover is as you expect.”

Vi tilted her head, a disbelieving laugh bubbling from her throat as she turned away again. Her movements were slow, her hand trailing along the counter’s edge as she moved a few paces toward the end of the bar. She paused there, her fingers brushing against a bottle she had placed earlier, a tactile anchor in the swirling storm of her thoughts. “You’ll just run back to your ivory tower once you know,” she muttered under her breath, the words low but cutting. Her free hand curled into a fist, her nails digging into her palm to keep her focus away from the searing pain behind her eyes.

From his place behind the bar, Vander watched the exchange silently. His kind eyes flicked between the two women, his expression unreadable but heavy with unspoken thoughts. The faint crease in his brow deepened, but he said nothing, choosing instead to let the scene play out. His presence was steady, grounding, but even Vander knew better than to intervene too soon.

In the corner, Powder glanced up from her gadget, her blue eyes darting nervously between Vi and Caitlyn. Her fingers hesitated over the small device she’d been working on, her excitement from earlier replaced by a familiar worry that settled heavily in her chest. She opened her mouth as if to say something but seemed to think better of it, her shoulders hunching slightly as she looked back down at her work.

The tension in the room was palpable, like a brewing keg waiting to be unleashed. Caitlyn remained seated, her presence calm and unyielding. She didn’t press, didn’t push, but her silence was as much a challenge as her words had been. It was a quiet defiance, a refusal to back down, and it gnawed at Vi’s carefully constructed being.

Eventually, it was Powder who broke the silence, her voice small but determined. “Vi,” she said softly, glancing hesitantly at her sister before shifting her gaze to Caitlyn. “Maybe… maybe it wouldn’t hurt to give her a chance to get to know you.”

Vi froze, her hand tightening around the edge of the bar, her knuckles turning white. The cloth she had been holding slipped from her grasp, landing with a soft thud on the counter. She didn’t respond, her jaw moving side to side, as she tried to push back the surge of frustration and guilt that Powder’s words stirred in her.

“Not now, Pow,” Vi said finally, her voice clipped and firm, leaving no room for argument.

“But—” Powder started, but Vander stepped in before she could finish. He moved to stand beside her, his large hand resting gently on her shoulder.

“Let it be, kiddo,” Vander said quietly, his tone soft but resolute. “Let it be.”

Powder hesitated, her lips pressing into a thin line as her shoulders slumped slightly. She gave a small, reluctant nod and turned back to her gadget, though her movements were slower, her focus clearly elsewhere. The guilt lingered in her expression, but she said nothing more.

The room fell into silence again, save for the faint mutterings of other customers and the distant murmur of the city beyond the bar’s walls. Vi resumed her cleaning, her movements sharper now, more deliberate, as if trying to channel her frustration into the repetitive task. She felt Caitlyn’s eyes on her, steady and unyielding, and it made her skin prickle with irritation.

Caitlyn remained at the bar, her hands resting lightly on the counter as she watched Vi work. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, but her presence was a weight Vi couldn’t ignore. It was infuriating and unsettling in equal measure, the way Caitlyn seemed to occupy the space without forcing herself into it.

Vi’s fingers brushed against the edge of a glass as she reached for a towel, her touch slow and practiced as she guided it to the drying rack. The pain behind her eyes flared again, a sharp, piercing ache that made her grit her teeth. She forced herself to focus on the task, her hands moving with precision, but the tension coiled tightly in her chest refused to ease.

“You’re annoying, you know that,” Vi muttered finally, her voice low and edged with exhaustion. “Are you going to order anything or just sit there staring at the blind girl?” She waved vaguely in Caitlyn’s direction, her tone biting but lacking the sharp edge it usually carried. The exhaustion dulled her usual fire, leaving her words more fatigued than confrontational.

“I prefer persistent,” Caitlyn replied softly, her tone laced with amusement. She rested her hands lightly on the bar, her clean nails brushing against the worn wood. “I’ll take whiskey neat.”

Vi shook her head, letting out a laugh that was equal parts bitter and amused. “Yeah, well, annoying is more fitting,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her words as she reached for a bottle. Her movements were smooth but measured, her hand brushing the bar’s edge as she felt her way to the correct bottle. The faint glow of the bar’s lights reflected off her unseeing eyes, their pale blue hues swirling faintly like restless tides. Caitlyn noticed how, at the edges of Vi’s eyes, faint spiderweb-like scars glowed a soft blue, emanating from the corners and disappearing into her skin like threads of faintly luminescent frost.

Caitlyn watched Vi’s hands as she worked, her fingers deft and precise despite the obvious limitation of her blindness. She poured the drink without hesitation, the liquid sloshing gently into the glass. As Vi slid the drink across the bar toward her, Caitlyn couldn’t help but marvel at the way she moved with such practiced ease. It was as though every inch of this space was etched into her mind, each motion a dance choreographed to compensate for the darkness she lived in.

“Of course you’d take your drink neat,” Vi said, her lips curling into a faint smirk as she leaned slightly against the bar, her irritation giving way to reluctant intrigue. Her unseeing eyes fixed vaguely in Caitlyn’s direction, the faint glow of the scars around them catching the light like fractured glass.

“I like what I like,” Caitlyn replied with a smile, her voice light and genuine as she took a controlled sip of the drink. The whiskey was strong, burning pleasantly as it went down, but her attention remained fixed on Vi.

“Oh yeah?” Vi tilted her head, her smirk widening slightly. “And what do you like?” There was a hint of playfulness in her tone now, her earlier annoyance melting just enough to let curiosity creep in.

Caitlyn set her glass down carefully, her movements measured as she considered her response. “First,” she began, her voice steady, “you allowing me to speak with you. And second…” She hesitated, unsure how her next words would land but deciding to take the risk. Her gaze softened as she studied Vi’s face, her eyes swirling with that mesmerizing mixture of milky blue and white, framed by those faintly glowing scars. “Second, your eyes. They’re… quite lovely.”

The words hung in the air, and for the second time that night, Vi’s composure faltered. A faint blush crept up her cheeks, and she turned her head swiftly to the side to hide it. “The fuck, Caitlyn,” she muttered under her breath, her voice gruff and tinged with embarrassment.

Caitlyn couldn’t suppress the smile tugging at her lips. “It’s just an observation,” she said lightly, picking up her glass again. “And an honest one as well.”

Vi scoffed, but the sound lacked its usual bite. She busied herself wiping down a clean spot on the counter, her motions brisk and focused as though determined to avoid addressing Caitlyn’s words directly. But the faint blush remained, a subtle betrayal of her otherwise gruff demeanor.

From the corner of the room, Powder glanced up from her tinkering, her brows furrowing slightly as she observed the interaction. Vander, ever-watchful, leaned casually against the far counter, his arms crossed as he quietly took in the exchange. The faintest hint of amusement flickered across his face, though he made no move to intervene.

“Well,” Vi said finally, her voice rough as she straightened. “You’ve got your drink. You can stop with the compliments now.” She folded her arms across her chest, her posture stiff as she tried to regain control of the conversation and her emotions.

Caitlyn chuckled softly, the sound rich and unbothered as her gaze lingered on Vi. “And why would I do that,” she countered, a playful lilt in her tone, “when you light up like that every time I do?” She took another sip of her whiskey, her confidence and ease as sharp as ever.

Vi stilled, the words hitting her like a sucker punch. She wasn’t ready for this; for the teasing tone, the pointed observation, or the way Caitlyn had managed to disarm her so effortlessly. Her cheeks burned hotter than her pounding head, and she shifted awkwardly, her feet shuffling against the floor as though she might escape the conversation entirely.

“Yeah, I’m… gonna go,” she mumbled, the words rushed and uncharacteristically clumsy as she turned on her heel, only to misjudge the step. Her boot caught on the edge of a stool, and she stumbled forward, a clatter of wood and sharp breaths echoing through the bar.

Before she could fully hit the ground, Vander was there, his strong hands catching her by the arms and steadying her with practiced ease. “Easy, Vi,” he said, his tone a mix of amusement and concern. His steady presence grounded her, though his quiet laugh and the faint smirk on his face, that she just knew was there, didn’t help her already wounded pride.

Vi muttered something under her breath, too low for anyone but Vander to hear, her head ducked in frustration as her hands flexed at her sides. Vander’s chuckle deepened, and he gave her a light pat on the shoulder. “You alright there, kid?”

“Fine,” she snapped, though the heat on her face and the slight tremble in her hands betrayed her. She didn’t dare look in Caitlyn’s direction, certain the Sheriff was watching her with that same calm, bemused expression that was quickly becoming unbearable even if she couldn’t see it. Gods she was doomed.

Vander’s eyes flicked to Caitlyn, who was indeed watching the scene unfold with a mixture of intrigue and amusement, her whiskey glass resting lightly in her hand. A faint smile tugged at her lips, though she wisely stayed quiet, letting the moment play out.

Vander leaned closer to Vi, his voice low enough to keep their exchange private. “Never seen you so flustered, Vi,” he said, his tone half-teasing, half-genuine. “It’s a good look on you.”

“Shut up, old man,” Vi muttered, shrugging out of his grip and taking a step back, her movements careful this time. The pounding in her head worsened, and the tension in her shoulders tightened, but she forced herself to straighten and regain some semblance of composure. “I don’t need a running commentary.”

Vander smirked, his arms crossing over his broad chest as he leaned back against the counter. “Sure you don’t.” His gaze shifted back to Caitlyn briefly, his amusement clear. “But I like her. I think she should come around more often.”

Vi glared in his general direction, her unseeing eyes narrowing. “You’re hilarious,” she deadpanned before turning away, her steps slower and more deliberate as she moved back toward her room.

Caitlyn, to her credit, kept her expression neutral, though her eyes sparkled with quiet amusement as she watched Vi retreat. She swirled the whiskey in her glass, taking another sip before setting it down on the counter. “She’s quite the character,” she said softly, her words directed toward Vander but loud enough for Vi to hear.

Vander chuckled again, his grin widening. “Oh, you have no idea,” he replied, his voice warm and tinged with affection. “But she’s worth getting to know, if you’ve got the patience.”

Caitlyn nodded thoughtfully, her gaze drifting back to Vi’s retreating figure. “I believe I just might,” she murmured, her tone steady and resolute. She picked up her glass again, her expression softening as she settled back into her seat, content to wait for Vi to reemerge from her retreat.

Vi slipped into her room in the basement, shutting the door behind her with a quiet click. The dim, familiar space was her sanctuary; a place where the world above couldn’t intrude, where she could let her guard down. She didn’t bother turning on the lamp; the darkness suited her just fine. Her fingers fumbled in her pocket, pulling out the small vial of shimmer she had tucked away. The faint purple glow from the liquid cast an eerie light on her hands as she uncapped it with practiced ease.

The headache that had been drilling into her skull since before Caitlyn’s arrival was unbearable, and she wasn’t about to let it linger any longer. Tilting her head back, she took a measured sip, the metallic taste sliding down her throat. The relief was instant,like a wave of cool water washing away the searing pain. Vi exhaled slowly, the tension in her body easing as she leaned back against the edge of her bed.

But the reprieve was short-lived. She barely had a moment to herself before the door creaked open, and Powder slipped inside.

Vi’s heart leapt into her throat, and she quickly shoved the vial back into her pocket, the motion fluid and almost instinctual. Powder didn’t seem to notice, her earlier guilt replaced by an energy that filled the small room.

“Vi,” Powder began, her voice practically bubbling with glee. “You were stumbling over yourself out there like a schoolgirl with a crush on her teacher!” Her laughter was light and teasing, her usual nervousness replaced by her playful tone.

Vi shook her head, her hand still resting over the pocket where the shimmer was safely hidden. She forced herself to focus on her sister, on the sound of her voice rather than the guilt gnawing at her. “We both know I’m not the one fit for school, Powder,” she said, her tone dry as she ignored the jab.

Powder crossed her arms, her blue eyes narrowing slightly in mock suspicion. “Oh, come on, Vi. Don’t dodge the question. That Sheriff is hot.”

Vi tilted her head, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips despite herself. “She is?” she asked, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I mean… I figured she might look like Jericho.” Her smirk widened, though there was a flicker of curiosity in her voice she couldn’t quite hide.

Powder made a face so exaggerated that even Vi could practically feel the disgust radiating off her. “Oh, no way. She’s a ten all the way. Like… ridiculously gorgeous. If I wasn’t dating Ekko, I’d be jealous she was even talking to you.”

Vi snorted, a genuine laugh breaking free for the first time that evening. “I’m telling him you said that,” she said with good humor, the tension from earlier easing slightly as she bantered with her sister.

“Go ahead!” Powder replied with a mischievous grin. “I’ll just tell him you were flirting with the Sheriff.”

“I was not flirting,” Vi said quickly, her tone defensive. She pushed off the edge of the bed and started pacing, her boots scuffing against the rough cement. “She was the one doing the talking. I was just… trying not to punch her.”

Powder rolled her eyes, her hands resting on her hips. “Oh, please. You’re just mad because she’s got you all flustered. Admit it, Vi. You like her.”

Vi stopped in her tracks, turning her head toward Powder, her unseeing eyes narrowing. “I don’t even know her,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her uncertainty.

“Yet,” Powder said with a knowing smile. “You don’t know her yet.”

Vi groaned, raking a hand through her hair as she dropped onto the edge of her bed. “This conversation is over, Pow,” she muttered, but there was no real anger in her tone.

Powder smirked, leaning against the doorframe. “Fine. But you’re not off the hook, sis. I’m rooting for the Sheriff.” With that, she turned and slipped out of the room, leaving Vi alone once more.

As the door clicked shut, Vi sighed, her hand instinctively brushing over the pocket where the shimmer vial was hidden. The headache was gone, but the weight in her chest was heavier than ever. She leaned back on her bed, her mind drifting to Caitlyn’s voice, her confident presence, and the way she’d managed to get under Vi’s skin in such a short amount of time.

“Damn it,” Vi muttered under her breath, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her pants. She was in trouble, and she knew it.