Science of Love

Caitlyn’s family, the Kirammans, had become sort of infamous throughout not only Zaun, but even the more progressive sects of Piltover. Following a poorly worded speech that was intended to honour victims of a violent attack that occurred at one of their most prolific venues, there was an outcry at their insensitivity. It was clear that whoever their secretary had hired to write that speech had neither cared to learn about the actual attack nor bothered to learn actual literacy. 

Cassandra Kiramman, at the face of it all, had stood upon a podium, given brief condolences that sounded like a get well soon card, and proceeded to absolve their company of any liability for minutes. If that wasn’t cruel enough, she then mispronounced the names of certain victims, thanked the audience for their time, and left without answering addressing any of the victims families, journalists, or concerned audience members. 

This absolute embarrassment of a display had not only placed the Kirammans into the harsh and unforgiving spotlight of Piltover Press, but sparked a rising movement that questioned if the Piltover Elite even truly cared about the people whose lives they yanked to their will, like strings on a marionette. The answer to that question was very apparent to Viktor, who had followed the story in a local newspaper and hoped, just a miniscule amount, that Piltover might for once recognise the absurdity of their society.  

Ultimately, it was a pipe dream of Viktor’s. Piltover was run by a tight knit group of families, who all knew and conveniently covered for each other. The family, along with their company, released certain statements declaring that they’d “updated their security” and “reflected greatly upon their social responsibility, as well as influence,” to Viktor’s disbelief, and people seemed to forget the whole thing even happened. 

It was an obvious and shameless display of the benefits of having too much money than you knew what to do with, and truly went against everything Viktor believed in. 

So, safe to say, he never thought he’d find himself standing next to the sole heir of the Kiramman fortune at a little trendy campus bar, linked arms, beer in one hand and cane grabbed loosely in the other, ordering a round of shots for the table. 

So much for not drinking. Viktor tried to feel some sense of regret, or guilt, about the flushed tint that already rose high in his cheeks and tugged at the corners of his mouth, but to no avail. Caitlyn was too convincing, Caitlyn’s girlfriend was too convincing. It had been so long since he’d met another Zaunite, much less someone who had lived and experienced Piltover society for almost as long as he had, under the guise of some sports scholarship he couldn’t exactly remember at the moment. She rocked aggressive pink hair, shaved crookedly on one side and tied up in the back to clear the path from the cheap beer in her hand to her mouth. 

Vi could drink. She threw back can after can of the same unfortunate beer, completely stone-faced, and was now about to “totally beat everyone at shots,” whatever that meant. After a cocktail or two of his own, Viktor found himself laughing along with her antics and following Caitlyn when she grabbed his bicep and dragged him to the front of the tiny, hot restaurant to order a round. 

She was caught in a perpetual giggle, tugging at a single strand of hair that hung loosely on her left side and chattering off about whatever her and Violet had planned for the week. A warm buzz filled Viktor’s ears and stuffed his head with cotton. The restaurant, though small, was alive with energy. Hot pinks and blues dazzled the walls and tiny mirrored balls hung from the ceiling, refracting dots of light across the area. A continuous string of tiny lights had been hung above each table, tangling with trendy looking photographs. Every inch of space on the walls was covered with something, a poorly photoshopped photo of a celebrity eating at their restaurant, a vibrant piece of abstract art that Viktor may or may not have recognised from that year he took Eastern European Art History as an elective, strings of tiny lights, or plastic vines. 

It was definitely very Piltover. The trying-too-hard sort of buzz that the restaurant created was very indicative of the type of place it was, one that would charge 15 bucks for a round of shots, that is. Still,  it was charming in its own way, and Piltover was proud of its nightlife for a reason, after all. Viktor tried to block out the grating Top 100hits playlist that was blasting through the speakers.  

So far, he’d been having a good time. He, Violet and Caitlyn arrived after Mel and Jayce, Violet having already “pre-gamed” pretty hard. When Viktor was a sophomore, words like “pre-game” or “shots” were completely lost on him, feeding his not-so-subtle linguistic superiority complex whilst also emphasising his disconnect from the social aspect of universities that so many of Piltover’s children sought out. It wasn’t the worst thing to miss out on, of course, and Viktor much preferred a small company of friends over a nice dinner anyway. 

He looked back at the table, eyes brushing lightly over the rest of their group as he and Caitlyn waited for the round. Through his general haze, though, he noticed that another member of their party was looking at him. 

Jayce’s dark irises were just visible from where Viktor was standing, and a soft smile relaxed his angular face. He had a muscular arm draped on the top of the bench he and Mel were sitting on, her to his left and gesturing to Violet with a story that had the other woman’s mouth hang open in exaggerated shock. Jayce wasn’t listening to a word Mel was saying, head angled around, almost over his shoulder, at where Viktor was standing. Viktor couldn’t help but feel slightly pinned under the intense, drunken gaze. He glanced around after a few brief seconds of eye contact and jerked his head back around to face the bar. Caitlyn was right next to him, so it was possible that the man was looking at her, or at the both of them, not just Viktor. It made more sense, anyway. 

Thankfully, a tall man with a ridiculous looking handlebar mustache and annoyingly witty ironic tee-shirt had just begun to shove a tray weighed down by heavy shot glasses toward Caitlyn from behind the bar. 

The liquid that sloshed around inside the small glasses was bright blue and, Viktor was pretty sure, poisonous. He was definitely in for it. When they returned to the table, Viktor keeping his head pointedly at the nuclear-looking drinks and away from Jayce’s leering eye, Caitlyn sectioned out two shots for each person. 

She took her place in the bench next to violet and across from Jayce, and Viktor slipped in next to her. Risking a glance up, he was relieved to find that the man in front of him had turned his attention to Caitlyn and was asking — yelling, over the bustling noise — some question that maybe had to do with the cost of the drinks or a teacher they knew. 

Viktor’s gaze lingered on his face, which upon further inspection was as soft as it was angular. The sloping button shape of his nose, the small pout of his lower lip. The curl of his lashes and the boyish roundness of his eyes. 

Viktor startled when Violet slammed her hands on the table and yelled, “Shots!” 

Each of them grabbed one of the drinks in front of them and they took turns clinking the glasses with each other. Viktor toasted Caitlyn, then Violet, then Mel with a small nod, then Jayce. The big idiot was smiling like someone had just told the funniest joke in the world, and he shook his head as Viktor and his glasses clicked loudly together. 

Viktor could feel the powerful drink sear down his throat and coat his tongue in a syrupy flavour that reminded him of the punchy sour candy sold by a small vendor outside his botanical shop back in Zaun. Warmth crept into his chest. Something about the strong alcohol after years of nothing more than the odd glass of champagne was making him go slightly mushy around the edges. 

A few of them coughed and they all chuckled at the harshness of the drinks, raising their seconds in another ‘cheers’ and knocking them against the table before throwing them back again. Somehow, this one was even stronger than the last, and left Viktor’s nostrils flaring at the intensity. Otherwise, his expression was as neutral as it could be.

Jayce spluttered in front of him and let out a small whoo in reaction, peering up at Viktor and cracking another wide smirk. 

“You a big drinker, then?” He kicked Viktor’s foot under the table. 

Viktor exhaled through his teeth and pulled a face as unimpressed as he could manage, levelling Jayce with some sort of look before responding. “Hardly. Some people actually just know how to take alcohol. It’s okay, though, I’m sure you’ll grow up one day.” He fought unsuccessfully against the smirk that was pulling at his own lips. 

“Yeah, I’d say you definitely took it. There’s no way you weren’t a total party animal at one point. I don’t buy your act One-” he reached out and pointed in Viktor’s face, “-little bit.” 

Viktor shrugged and he pushed Jayce’s hand away with his own. “Too busy doing hard stuff in school, learning shit like the Krebs Cycle and fucking metabolic pathways to even think about partying. Not that I’m expecting you to know what those are, obviously.” He glanced away from the man and deepened his smirk, trying to emphasise the cockiness in his own attitude. “You, however,” he rested an elbow on the table, gesturing to Jayce with his index finger, “are definitely a partier. Even though you can’t even take one shot without, well, spitting everywhere.”  The shots must have started kicking in, because the loud buzz in Viktor’s ears grew even louder as Jayce raised a competitive eyebrow. 

Jayce gasped and threw a hand over his heart dramatically, “What-ever could you mean by that! I was busy doing science-y sounding stuff, too! You know, Galileo and… like… ugh, Caitlyn who’s someone science-y?” His head dropped onto the table and leaned onto his own forearm, eyes closing and hand waving wildly at the blue haired girl diagonal to him. 

Viktor turned his head smugly at her, but was met with an incredulous grin from both Caitlyn and her less-than-sober girlfriend. She glanced at Viktor with a pointed look, then back at Jayce questioningly. Viktor’s sudden awareness of his extremely friendly banter with the roommate he’d forgotten he was supposed to despise pushed even more blood into his flushed cheeks. He swallowed and shrugged weekly at her. 

Caitlyn turned back to Jayce and Viktor did too, catching Mel’s averted expression in his peripherals. If a pang of guilt sparked in his chest, it was forgotten about as Jayce suddenly gasped, head shooting upwards as he slammed his hands on the table. 

“Newton! That’s totally mechanics-y. See, Viktor? I am, like, so busy with science. They call me… they call me the…” he giggled, releasing a sound Viktor never thought could even be possible from a man with his stature, “the science guy.” 

Violet cackled and Caitlyn shook her head, chuckling, and Mel’s neutral facade slipped a bit to reveal a small smile. She closed her eyes and sighed, putting her hand on Jayce’s shoulder. 

“I’m pretty sure that name’s been taken already, babe. Gonna have to think of something even more creative.” At the sound of Jayce’s mournful groan, she snickered and glanced back up at the table timidly, meeting Viktor’s smile-slash-apologetic-grimace with a nod and turning further into the group’s shared space. 

The conversation flowed easily after that, no doubt with help from the alcohol, and Caitlyn regaled them with her and Violet’s misadventures out and about Zaun and Piltover. 

Viktor was warm, almost all the way down to his perpetually frigid fingertips, and nestled comfortably into the booth. Laughter from the group washed over him like a warm breeze on a summer evening, just before autumn introduced a crisp chill into the air. Honestly, he never was a partier. He preferred to spend his time in control of his own thoughts, or, as in control as he could be, through hobbies like gardening or his science. Hobbies that also just happened to be his school major, PhD, and entire life. When Viktor was much younger, following his mother from couch to couch across the fissures of Zaun, he’d only heard stories of great big botanic gardens with bursting florals and expansive vines, bright waxy greens and burning oranges. Flowers named after animals, which he also had to construct with his imagination, named after emotions, after famous scientists, even. 

The first time he saw a flower, a small amber coloured thing that had cracked freshly through a cement block and had yet to inspire the harsh polluted air that fogged the city, he almost cried. Though probably totally forgettable for someone raised in a place like Piltover, Viktor truly believed he’d never seen something so beautiful. Not even having reached double digits in age, the sense of profoundness of seeing such an exquisite treasure in a swarming pit of the black, polluted tar pit ruled by exploitation was significant. He can still remember the small, supple shape of the petals and the glint of its filaments in the streetlights overhead. He remembers it was evening, sunlight having almost completely dwindled over the wannabe suburban streets where he was staying at the moment. He remembers wanting to show his mother, but hesitating, wondering if its beauty would even survive long enough for him to leave for just a minute. It wasn’t a warm day by any means, but it may as well have been the most sunkissed, sparkling moment of Viktor’s life. 

His light eyes scanned the small party crowded around the table, smiling and laughing, relating as though they’d all known each other for years. Well, Viktor supposed, theyhave. He couldn’t help but imagine a small private garden, nurtured well by time and care, shaded by the brunt of the sun’s force. Confident blue lilies dappled on each side by vibrant pink hydrangeas and punctuated by suave, golden orchids. A tall, sturdy oak tree placed unwavering in the centre of it all, relishing its unabashed view of the sun and stretching its thick branches in a protective embrace. Though not a part of the garden himself, if Viktor knew one thing, it was how to take care of plants. 

So, Viktor was a bit of an emotional drunk, sue him. Thick, plundering waves of nostalgia tended to flatten him every time he got a bit too lenient with alcohol. He tried to avoid it, if he could, but Caitlyn’s childish pleas were just too convincing for Viktor not to take the bait. 

It was then that a scene from Violet’s intriguing, though quite inappropriate story had the entire table erupting in raucous laughter. Mel’s grin revealed stark, unsurprisingly perfect white teeth, Caitlyn’s head was thrown back with abandon and Violet was slapping her knee with her hand, gasping and trying to quickly add onto the joke before she lost the rest of the oxygen in her lungs. 

Jayce, though. Jayce was shining. Forget oak tree, this man was an absolute incarnation of the great big ball of fire that doused Piltover in a golden gleam each morning and sent its sky into a vibrancy of pinks and oranges as it disappeared behind distant mountains each night. This man was the fucking sun. In all of its astral, cosmic glory. The colourful, trendy overhead neon lights shone on his dark hair in different hues and the tiny gleams from string lights cascaded across his face and down his broad chest. Each refraction seemed to carve out his features in its own unique way, highlighting a different plane on his nose or jaw, and allowing Viktor to notice the way his upper lip was just slightly uneven or the way it sat pillowed against his sharp canines. 

An enormous, daunting intensity loomed behind Viktor’s eyes. Something searing and sharp cleaved through his chest as his gaze was met by Jayce’s. As quickly as possible, without trying to look like a completely drunk idiot, Viktor turned his head back toward Violet. He couldn’t control the way his eyes trailed after Jayce. 

An emotion was definitely coursing through him at the moment, but thankfully he’d ingested enough of that probably noxious drink to feel confident about forgetting it in the morning. He avoided looking at Jayce for the rest of the night, though, just to be sure. 

It was with a fond conversation about the state of Zaun’s own local university with Violet that had many members of their group hiding yawns behind their hands. Naturally, the Piltover natives had very little to contribute to the discussion, and it certainly wasn’t grippingly hilarious like Violet and Caitlyn’s own stories. 

Feeling considerably drowsy himself after the more than eventful day, Viktor stretched his leg to start the slow process that would be standing up. Even despite the now-fading buzz of alcohol, a painful, spindly tremor shot through his knee and into his femur. Naturally, his hip was feeling quite overworked from the bench as well, so the entirety of his right leg was almost completely out of order. At least his ankle wasn’t acting up. 

He gritted his teeth and pushed heavily onto the wooden cane that had been neglected for some hours at the side of their table. With an impressive execution, Viktor was confident that he hadn’t let too much of his pain slip through his relaxed facade, and made way for Caitlyn and Violet to shimmy out of the booth as well. Their hands were intertwined and they both dawned an expression that resembled somewhat of a sleeping house cat, overfed not only by kibble but also love. Something like that. 

Mel and Viktor did the same, though they each seemed a bit more reserved and they were definitely not holding hands. Still, they looked content and Jayce offered a hand to help her out of her seat. 

Viktor definitely felt like something of an outsider, though not in a particularly negative way. He just felt like a peaceful observer, not being excluded, choosing to witness the dynamic instead of contribute directly to it. He stood on the precipice of a reflecting pool, surface still but vulnerable to the slightest bit of tension. If Viktor applied a bit of pressure, he was certain that the dark water would reach up and around his thin, sloping shoulders and tug him down inside itself, twisting and warping until he was enveloped completely. 

This world, one made of privilege, of the right to walk through a city without fear, of a consistent childhood, of flowers, was one Viktor had never been privy to. If he was allowed a taste, just a taste, he wasn’t sure he’d ever be satiated. 

Plus, Viktor could get too easily attached. Too often had he allowed someone into his own orbit just to be left with a gaping hole in his chest, and he hadn’t yet decided if this group was worth the risk. 

Viktor walked toward the door with his party, anyway, and waved off the women as they each made their way to their own little homes-away-from-home on the campus. There was almost a coolness in the air, preluding his favourite season in Piltover, but it may have just been the summer air against his flushed skin. 

He risked a glance up at his roommate, who was standing rather dumbly to his left, a faraway look in his eyes as he scanned the darkened campus. 

“Going the same way, I presume?” The accented curvature of the words that left Viktor’s mouth before his brain could play catch-up was surprising. He’d forgotten how strong his accent got when he drank. Jayce smiled, despite the intense lameness in Viktor’s joke. 

“Seems that way…” He trailed off, debating something briefly in his head as his gaze lowered down and away from Viktor. Sheepish about something, Viktor didn’t know what, until, “You good to walk? It’s not too much- too- painful?” 

Viktor raised an eyebrow and shook his head lightly. He walked forward confidently. “I’ll be fine, what are you so worried about? I’m not made of glass or anything and you also shouldn’t dance around the subject of my disab-” Viktor was about to make a very good point, in his opinion, but it was Viktor after all, and the universe seemed to find a sadistic sort of joy in his misfortune. 

Before he could get another word out, his ankle rolled loosely underneath him. It was quick and Viktor had been leaning a significant amount of his weight on his cane, anyway, so the slight wasn’t nearly enough to warrant a serious injury. It did pop, though. Multiple times. 

The haste and suddenness about the entire situation shot a dose of adrenaline into Viktor’s chest that flowed through his arms and caused a subtle quake in his fingers. There was no pain, for now, other than the typical jolt of unexpected weight on his knee, but Viktor knew that would change in a very short amount of time. 

Viktor exhaled sharply and regained a semblance of awareness, noticing a weight on his shoulder. He turned his head, passing his gaze over the calloused fingers on his shoulder and onto Jayce’s ashen face. The look in his eyes was panicked but reserved, pleading a silent “are you alright?” that elicited an involuntary chuckle from Viktor. It was a pretty embarrassing slip-up, really not serious, but Jayce looked like he was about to cry. 

The heat permeating from Jayce’s hand burned through Viktor’s sweater, but Viktor could still feel a shiver run jolt his lungs. 

He cleared his throat, shrugging Jayce’s hand off and straightening his posture slightly painfully. He looked pointedly into Jayce’s still tentative eyes, “Ehm, whoops, haha, still a bit buzzed. Should get back before I do something really embarrassing.” His attempt to shrug the rest of Jayce’s concern off of his shoulders seemed to be effective enough, and Jayce chuckled airily, shaking his own head and moving in tandem with Viktor’s careful steps. 

He just hummed in response, shoving his left hand into the pocket of his well-fitting jeans but allowing his left to dangle by his side. Viktor eyed it warily. If Jayce was still concerned about Viktor actually getting hurt, which Viktor was sure he was, it didn’t show on his face. A tired smile instead rested naturally between his darkened cheeks and lidded eyes followed a small pebble he was kicking between strides. 

They meanered their way back to their suite without issue, silent but not uncomfortable. Viktor tracked each passing crack in the sidewalk and listened to the evening ambiance as leaves bristled and a car pulled out of some parking space far away. The lights were off in each hall, minus the main one, allowing the shade of the night to flood the fields and pathways all throughout campus. This was another thing Viktor liked about Piltover. The nights were particularly peaceful, and although the heart of the city was still alive with the night scene, the rest of the city was totally dark. Viktor could even see a couple constellations above him, floating blissfully in the cosmos in a dream of purples and blues and bright yellows. 

He tended to stay up late anyways, naturally, no doubt a result from having to make more than a couple quick escapes from where he’d been staying with his mother back in Zaun. Piltover slapped some label on it and decided it was resolved by throwing a couple of pills at him. They did help, sometimes, but Viktor didn’t feel like his lack of sleep was diagnosable. It was, as always, easier to just not argue. Staying up late was not such a privilege in Zaun, so rare and out of the norm that it could be considered something as extreme as a condition. It was simply how it was. Almost no one could follow a biological circadian rhythm with, well, lack of any real daylight cycle. The thick grey smog clouds allowed for somewhat of a light and dark period, on its best days, and other times Zaun relied on the claustrophobically packed markets to light up the streets. 

Not only this, but sleeping early or laying in late was basically unheard of in the city, for fear of the society mercilessly moving on without you. Viktor liked to indulge in the excess wealth of Piltover, aside from its monetary abundance. 

Staying up late, unfortunately, was extremely harsh on his joints. After a day like this, sitting for hours and walking from place to place whilst also staying up past his usual time, to say his body hurt would be the understatement of the century. The familiar claws of sharpness dug into his knee and sent searing heat through his veins on either side. His entire midsection was tense and each miniscule movement felt like pushing on an ancient wooden door that sar on long-rusted hinges. The tenseness from his posture introduced the more recent stiffness into his lower spine whilst his thighs burned from overexertion. To put the final misery cherry atop this great big suffering sundae, Viktor was definitely going to get shin splints later in the night.  

Still, some relief trickled down his spine as the two of them approached their front door and Jayce held it open for him without a word. Viktor  wasn’t about to comment in his typical half-joking defensive tone when he was feeling this terrible, so he offered a quick nod. A nod was sent back in his direction, and he turned around, back to the seating area, to eye Jayce. He was still standing in the doorway, eyes downcast. 

If Viktor wanted to offer some sort of joke, or even ask him if everything was alright, the words were lost in his foggy mind. Jayce’s seriousness created a wide aura around him, a dark, swirling thing that Viktor was afraid to disturb in any way. Clearly, there was something on his mind, but Viktor allowed space for him to speak of his own accord. 

He raised his line of sight to make contact with Viktor’s own, but his head remained sheepishly bowed dark strands blocking streaks of his vision and trying to conceal the discomfort behind his eyes. 

‘I- um…you had fun?” 

Viktor nodded, unsmiling but gentle. 

“Good, that’s good. I wanted to- um…” Something intense was pushing Jacye’s words forward, a wild storm contained by the strength of a dam, paired and repaired time and time again to ensure complete emotional unreadability. A common trait of Piltover’s children, and effective on its own uncaring population. Not effective on someone from Zaun. Not effective on Viktor.

Viktor’s own chest tightened in anticipation, but also in a tentativeness, unsure whether or not Jayce was even going to say anything at all, and if he did, what could be so significant to warrant such difficulty? 

“Uhm… just… thanks for coming. Glad you had fun. G’night.” He pressed his mouth into a firm smile, almost shiny in its plasticity, and turned to walk to his room. 

Viktor couldn’t help but feel totally winded. All that worrying in such a momentary situation, for that? Why would he be so nervous to say something so utterly devoid of substance? Maybe he had been drunker than he let on, or maybe Viktor had misread the signals, and he hadn’t been nervous at all. Maybe he’d even been thinking of saying something else entirely. Whatever it may have been, Viktor decided it wasn’t his problem. As a warm rush of air breezed past him Viktor turned his head away from Jayce, mildly irritated, and replied simply, “Yeah. Goodnight.”  

Viktor flopped down onto his thick duvet, regretting it immediately, once he had made it to his own room. The wooden cane fell with a small thud, but Viktor was too exhausted to move it to sit against his bedside table properly. His sweater pressed against his chest, now itchy from the prolonged contact between the Viktor and the undershirt. His brace constricted his leg too tightly, and Viktor wanted to rub under it like some sort of dog collar.  The grey slacks that once draped attractively over his long legs bunched under the uneven weight and tightened around his calves. Thankfully, Jayce wasn’t an animal, and had agreed to the ‘no shoes in the suite’ rule, so Viktor had already kicked off his shoes at the door. Everything that touched Viktor’s skin irritated and burned, rubbing it raw and sending a discomfort through Viktor so intense that he sighed and sat up in defeat. Everything in his brain screamed at him to just go to sleep, already! but every inch of his body yelled, get this shit off now! in return. 

He unclasped his knee brace and slid it slowly down his leg, grinding his teeth at the loss of support in his knee. Not that the current pain there could be much worse, though. He slipped his sweater off and tossed it onto the floor, repeating the process with his undershirt and slacks. Thankfully, Viktor quite enjoyed sleeping in socks and boxers, so he lifted the duvet and curled up beneath it. 

Despite the general feeling of vertigo that swooped in his head from side to side in miniature tidal waves, he fell asleep rather quickly, just as the alarm clock read 3:00. 

_______________________

Viktor woke up that morning, unfortunately. He pried his eyelids open, crusted shut by sleep dust, and rubbed them until he was seeing stars. New bags were collecting beneath his already tired eyes, and his face looked noticeably paler than usual. As expected, Viktor’s leg — no, entire body — fucking hurt. The usual dull ache of bones grinding too close together was amplified to a shrill screeching and it wasn’t limited to just his knee. 

His head hurt for a different reason. He opened his mouth in a yawn and felt the telltale cottony parchness in his throat, amplified by about a million. Without thinking, he grabbed his cane and clinked his way out of his room and to the kitchen. He yanked a cabinet open and sightlessly grabbed a cup as he heaved the water filter out of his refrigerator. 

He barely waited for the water from the filter to reach the mug in his hand before he was gulping it down greedily, and as the cool oasis of water flooded his absolute desert of a mouth, he could only think, no one has ever had an idea this good, ever. The coolness of the beverage relieved the blistering heat that had gathered inside of him in the middle of the night from the dense blankets on his bed, and the sandpaper of his tongue was soothed into a finer grit. 

His eyebrows raised obscenely and he sighed over the cup, shifting his thoughts to his next course of action: painkillers. Thankfully, he’d had the mind to place his collection of general over-the-counter medicine in an easily accessible kitchen cabinet, so popping a couple Advils was an even easier task than quenching his thirst. Hopefully they’d kick in well enough to dull his pounding headache, but Viktor knew the limits of the drug. 

His joint pain would not be alleviated in the slightest. Pick your battles, I suppose. He took a seat at the peninsula-style island that jutted out from one of the walls and allowed the calm of the morning to fill his chest. It was early. The birds had just begun to chirp outside, and small prisms of light from the sunrise’s early stages were strewn across the suite walls. A few grey clouds crowded the sky, but they were ultimately unimportant across the landscape. 

Viktor always ended up waking early after a night of drinking, but getting to witness Piltover’s sunrise from a high-rise suite on a slowly waking campus was an absolute treasure. Viktor felt like he sat at the top of the world, watching the blissful ignorance of the few students who walked across the campus like ants on a farm. He counted the tops of the sprawling trees with adoration as the sunlight barely grazed the topmost leaves and bathed them all in a warm halo of golden light. 

He hadn’t seen something so serene in a long time. The softness of the morning gave Viktor some much needed peace of mind as he adjusted to the rather intense pain that had centralised mostly in his leg. The suite was cool with the residue of the night, but not to an uncomfortable extent. It was a truly pleasant morning. Or, it would have been, if Viktor wasn’t experiencing a hangover headache comparable to a bumbling giant knocking heavily on a brass birdcage that rattled and shook under its weight. 

Eventually, the Advil did its job and the pounding reduced to a very dull twinge that Viktor forgot to notice. He nursed the mug, refilling it a couple more times to ensure he was as hydrated as physically possible whilst he basked in the cool warmth of the rising sunlight. 

He almost fell back asleep, migrating to the couch to look out of the windows with a better view and propping his knee up on the extended seat that backed the giant windows. Viktor’s breath was cycling in a slow, shallow rise and fall of his chest. He closed his eyes, straining his ears to hear the symphony of birds outside of his window and nestled in the trees below. His arms sank down against his torso, and a calm sort of blueness ebbed over his body and trickled through his ears into his mind, which had yet to catch up with the morning’s events. 

Viktor sighed peacefully. 

“Mornin’.” A gravelly, deeply pitched voice piped up from the doorway across the kitchen. Jayce’s doorway. Viktor leapt up, nearly jumping out of his skin and narrowly avoiding spilling his entire mug of water on the laminate floors. He heard an embarrassing gasp escape his lips that was quickly replaced by a string of incoherent cursing as he turned to face the other man. 

If Viktor thought his hangover was bad, Jayce’s was the pits of actual hell. His mouth was pulled back in a sort of half-grimace, impeded by his clear lack of effort to move at all. Jayce’s brown-ish eyes were almost completely shut, masked by his long, thick lashes. His shoulders were slumped completely and he shifted weight to another foot to try and make his way into the kitchen. 

Viktor wanted to curse Jayce out so terribly, but he wasn’t sure Jayce could handle it, judging by the state he was in at the moment. So instead he offered a hum in reply. His own voice cracked from his few hours of deep sleep, but Viktor wasn’t exactly worried about Jayce noticing. 

“Advil in the- the” he waved his hand vaguely in the direction of the cabinetry and Jayce looked up at him to see where he was pointing. 

Jayce’s eyes widened. He leaned his head back as his eyebrows shot up and his mouth popped open, struggling over a response. Viktor furrowed his brows, glancing around at what exactly could have been so shocking, and blinked as he realised. 

He was still in his pajamas. Lack thereof, actually. He was still in his boxer shorts and socks from the night prior. Jayce had managed to fit a large black tee-shirt over his shoulders and a modest pair of shorts over his sturdy legs, even in his hungover stupor. Viktor had completely forgotten about modesty apparently, when he’d made his mad dash to the kitchen for a drink of water, and was now paying for it severely. 

Jayce’s hangover brain apparently had a hard time playing catch up, too, as his eyes flicked up then down then very quickly back up.Holy shit. Viktor stood stupidly, caught between just owning it, at this point, or finding some way to make it seem like he wasn’t just lazing about the entire area in nothing but a day-old pair of boxers and embarrassingly fuzzy socks. He jerked his head to the side and his hand shot up to scrub at his eyes, then mouth. 

“Cabinet.” He pointed away from himself again, toward the kitchen, hoping he could slip into his room whilst Jayce’s back was turned. 

Jayce just squinted at him. Wasn’t he supposed to be smart? Viktor cursed his own lack of foresight, cursed Jayce for being just hungover enough to forget how to use his brain, and cursed the strength of the alcohol in their drinks from the night before. 

Finally, Jayce closed his gaping mouth and whipped around, flinging open the first cabinet he saw, which, luckily, was the correct one. He regained his wits as his eyes landed on the humble bottle of pills at the front. Before he could say anything else, Viktor slipped back into his room, grateful for its proximity to the seating area. 

Mortifying didn’t even come close to it. Jayce, in all his hangover glory, had walked in on Viktor being at peak, well, Viktor, completely absorbed in the sounds and feeling of nature around him and blissfully unaware of anything or anyone around him. Not only did Jayce witness Viktor being primarily weird, but he had also gotten the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to see Viktor in his post-drunken lack of proper pajamas. Not just see, either. Viktor’s mind replayed vivid images of Jayce’s scurrying gaze flicking to places further… south than he’d intended. 

Jayce had totally seen his dick. Or the outline of it, at least. Embarrassed was an understatement. Mortifyingly, unfathomably, and inconsolably flustered rang a bit truer. Viktor wasn’t particularly embarrassed about his body, or anything, but it’s not like he signed up to be put on full display in front of his very new, very much unassuming roommate. They had been getting along quite well during their outing the previous night, which was a shame considering their sort of mutually respectful truce was now one-hundred-percent destroyed. 

Viktor flopped back down on his bed, dressed now in a pair of black sweats, just in case Jayce decided to come meandering idiotically into Viktor’s room for some reason, and slammed his head into a pillow. Jayce was probably packing his things right now, as Viktor suffered in his room, traumatised by the unexpected view at some ungodly morning hour. He had probably just wanted to see the sunrise, like Viktor. 

Good morning, Jayce, oh, what’s that you say? My completely indecent underwear isn’t the first sight you were expecting to see this wonderful, hungover morning? Are you sure?

Viktor muffled a groan. 

At least this morning’s general discomfort and intense joint pain had been too distracting for any… unexpected excitement down there. What if I had been…  Viktor shook his head violently, trying to erase that absolutely terrifying scenario out of his head like a fucked up Etch-a-Sketch. That hadn’t happened, thankfully, so there really was no point in fixating on that hypothetical when a very real and almost equally embarrassing scene had actually just played out not five minutes before. He could sulk about that, instead. 

He tried to listen for the telltale sound of bags zipping, of clothes being yanked from their drawers, or even of a hushed tapping of a message to one of Jayce’s friends. No such sound arose. 

Once the worst of Viktor’s misery had subsided, which only took a few minutes after he became distracted by the sound of a rare bird call outside of his window and frantically racked his brain to remember the name of the damned thing, he decided he should probably venture back out. Face the music, so the saying went. 

He padded as quietly as possible to the door, cursing the hard rubber stopper on the bottom of his cane that clicked heavily onto the floor tiles. Pushing it open, he discovered no trace of suitcases or thrown-together backpacks. Only a large man with bronzed skin and tawny eyes sitting quietly on a couch, hair pushed back in one of those zig-zagged hairbands. A steaming mug in his hands and an empty packet of Advil on the coffee table in front of him. Coincidentally, the door to Viktor’s room faced the couch, so when Jayce glanced hastily at him, he knew he couldn’t backtrack. 

Viktor pursed his lips and looked avoidantly to his right, and out of the window and at the fully risen morning sun. He squinted against its brilliance. Something about its cheery demeanour mocked Viktor’s positively grueling morning. 

“...Morning, Jayce. I’m sorry about, eh, that.” He still refused to make eye contact with Jayce. Better to deal with whatever freak out was bound to come bursting out of Jayce’s now traumatised mouth whilst he still could. 

“Don’t worry about it. Happens. Wanna… sit?”  Jacye’s tone was short but not harsh. He just seemed… embarrassed? It was quite the frazzling experience, Viktor will admit, but not so much for Jayce himself. Whatever weirdness lingered in Jayce’s words was much better than the blaming anger that Viktor was expecting, so he softly released the breath he’d been holding. 

“Sure. But not for too long.” He walked over, sitting in a plush chair that faced the couch, and Jayce. 

“Busy day?”  Jayce’s politeness was clearly returning to him as he kept the conversation flowing smoothly. Not like either of them really wanted to talk about whatever had just happened, anyway. 

 “I believe I did mention my packed schedule last night, you know. Unless you blacked out sooner than I thought.” Viktor retorted, referencing their conversation from the night prior that he was surprised to remember quite vividly. He remembered most of the night, actually, and the parts he wasn’t sure about were just replaced with a sort of fuzzy warmth, so he guessed the night wasn’t a total disaster. 

“Of course,” there was tension in Jayce’s jaw as he fought with something in his mind. A shitty joke, no doubt. He came to a decision and the tension eased as he smirked, “Busy enough to forget to put on pants.” 

Viktor scoffed, disbelieving. Jayce’s hilarious attempt at humour was irritating, but also a welcome familiarity, and a much needed floatation device for Viktor to grasp onto in lieu of drowning in his tsunami of a brain. 

“Pretty science-y, I’d say,” Jayce added. 

Viktor wasn’t one to lose a fight, even if he was defending his earlier, pantsless self. “Not that you would know, naturally, seeing as you’re more of a… what’s the word?” Viktor lolled his head to the side, looking up toward the ceiling in mock-consideration. “Mechanic.” He fought back a smirk as Jayce raised his eyebrows. 

“If I’m a mechanic, I guess that makes you some sort of zookeeper, biologist. At least I know how to do math.” His head waggled smugly, punctuating his remark with a deeper layer of sass.

Viktor almost laughed. “If you think biologists don’t do math then you’re spending more time away from your courses than I thought, Sweetheartof Piltover University.” He put intentional emphasis on the pet name, extending the absolutely grimace-inducing nickname into its full title. 

Jayce laughed loudly, then, “Damn right I am. Beloved by all: teachers, students, investors… well, all but a certain international student. But he seemed pretty intent on flirting with me this morning, so maybe I’ve got more of a chance than I thought.” Jayce’s absolutely evil smirk stretched wryly across his entire face, and Viktor’s jaw dropped at the level of pure audacity this man harboured. Jayce just laughed louder. 

Viktor shook his head, frowning grimly. “Sorry, must have forgotten to mention you must be this smart to ride this ride,” Viktor raised his right hand as far up as it would go, charading a lengthy yard-stick, “and you seem to fall pretty short.” He shrugged sympathetically as his left hand lifted to reach just about halfway to his right. “But hey, maybe if you apply for Intro To Biology next year, the undergrad program, you can start making progress. Better to start as early as possible, there’s a lot more to Biology than, what was it that the mechanical engineers did last week?” Viktor tapped his chin pensively. “Drop some fruit off the roof?” 

Jayce raised his arms, jumping to defend himself. Viktor cut him off with a snide chuckle and a nod of his head, but Jayce just laughed more. 

“You’ll see, Viktor. I’ll show you, one day. Some of the stuff we do in those labs… just… you just have to see it.” A longing expression crossed his face, but Viktor didn’t think it was fake. Jayce’s smirk fell into a crooked half-smile and he sighed. 

Viktor wanted to let Jayce enjoy the wave of scientific appreciation that had crashed over him, maybe even fall into a more genuine conversation about their sciences as,Viktor had to admit, he was pretty interested in the research the other science programs carried out. He opened his mouth to say something else, something that matched the sudden sincerity that had interrupted their banter.

Instead, Viktor’s alarm clock rang obnoxiously from the other room. He glanced over and through the open doorway, noticing the time. 9:00. 

He had to start getting ready now if he wanted to make it to the labs on time to meet Caitlyn. So, standing and stretching, Viktor fell back into the ease of witty remarks instead. 

“Not as cool as mystery bacteria, I bet. Real sci-fi shit. Pretty scary stuff, nothing that a physicist would understand.” 

Jayce’s eyebrows raised, mouth frowning slightly. “Isn’t that, like, dangerous?” 

Viktor chuckled and walked into his room, responding neutrally as he closed the door behind him. “You have no idea.” 

_______________________

The walk to the Bio lab was quick and easy, another benefit to having the most highly sought after suite on campus. Caitlyn’s own dorm was tucked away into the backmost corner in the undergrad area of campus, blocked by other dorm buildings and entirely inconvenient for getting anywhere else on campus. There were a few reasons why Viktor’s first few years in Piltover were rather unfortunate. That was definitely one of them. 

Thankfully (and unsurprisingly), Caitlyn wasn’t at the lab when Viktor arrived, so he had time to set up the proper materials for their tests and sterilise their area from the previous students. The process was fluid and essentially muscle memory for Viktor at this point, after having already spent 3 years visiting the same lab and conducting countless research projects, some extracurricular. 

He had been spending his time at the University studying Bioengineering for a reason after all. Once he’d earned his biology degree, Viktor’s intense fascination with the organic extended into a slightly adjacent field of interest, engineering. 

When Viktor lived in Zaun, his experience with science was different in every way. The discipline wasn’t split into factions of specifically engineering, chemistry, or biology. If you were a scientist, you were a scientist. Viktor’s experience with metallurgy and general engineering had sprouted from his interest in keeping plants alive. The botanical shop he tended to down in the gloom of the fissures was consistent in that something was always out of order. Naturally, it was much cheaper to just fix the mechanical or electric or structural issues himself, and it happened often enough for Viktor to become quite good at it. This general expertise in working with deteriorating metal had introduced his mind into an entirely new arena of plant care. A metal cage to provide structure to an otherwise frail herb, a crutch fashioned to a tree that had been pruned indelicately and was now tipping over from the uneven weight. 

The inorganic sterility of metal became instead a malleable, almost living part of the plants themselves, nearly indiscernible from the organisms as it grew alongside them. Metal could rust, could bend and tear and even weep with the water that evaporated off the plants in the heat of the summer. It didn’t feel separate in any way. For a while, Viktor had found an intense peace in combining the practices. 

It’s what won him his scholarship to Piltover in the first place. His last minute entry into a small, supposedly unimportant contest somewhere on the outskirts of Zaun that were closest to Piltover’s looming gates. He had ignored the bustling formality of the event, brushing it off as young and overzealous inventors trying to look their best for potential hires. He paid no mind to the short, stocky man with eccentric wiley hair and ridiculous mustache that poked in and out of crowds, stopping by Viktor’s own table to ask politely about the project. 

The project, Viktor had explained, was actually an introductory experiment into the combination and coexistence of mechanical aids and biological structures. If done properly, Viktor could one day even use the research to benefit other people. People like the elderly woman who lived above his shop, who was hard of hearing and found solace amongst the Monsteras and looming Pitcher plants when Piltover’s aggressive mining operations caused tremors throughout the city. People like the young girl who’d lost an arm to a uniquely brutal attack orchestrated by Piltover’s authorities on a nearby warehouse, suspected of playing a part in Zaun’s drug trafficking ring. People like Viktor, who didn’t have a tragic backstory alongside their pain. People who were born hurting and lived with the hurt each and every day of their lives, wanting guiltily a means to take the pain away even if for just a second. People who worked hard and suffered the consequences, who just wanted to follow a life on the whims of their passions, like the people of Piltover did so often, without worrying if this will be the final thing that sends them over the edge. 

If Viktor could find a way to incorporate reinforced materials as strong as metal into organic hosts successfully that could effectively respond to stimuli and synapse fires, the world might change forever. But in order to figure it out, he definitely needed some basic education and serious funding. 

He thought that’s what Piltover University of Scientific Advancement would provide, foolishly. Instead, the only thing waiting for him was a giant web of red tape and divisive school politics that caused silly arguments over whether or not mechanics was better than biology as if they were entirely different and not intrinsically intertwined aspects of existence. 

Viktor sighed. He didn’t want to get too existential before conducting experiments, otherwise he could risk overlooking a safety precaution or something. 

Plus, the door of the lab had just cracked open, revealing a tall girl with deep blue hair and a vintage-looking book bag slung over her pointed shoulder. 

“Hello, Caitlyn. I was just setting up.” Viktor smiled politely in return, but couldn’t help but sense a mood of solemnity overtake the room. 

She padded over and placed her bag gently on one of the empty desks toward the front of the room. 

“Thanks, Viktor. Not sure what I’d do if you weren’t here. What’s our first test?” She wasn’t looking at him directly, instead tugging too sharply on the zipper of her bag and yanking her computer out. Viktor tried to ignore the apparent weight in her words, but something about her tone was raw. A bit too genuine. Viktor wondered if she meant something else. 

“I’m sure you’d get on just fine,” he offered, a weak attempt at comforting her but still unsure about her gravity. “We’ll start with, eh, I was thinking perhaps a simple UV test?” 

Caitlyn glanced further away, nodding slowly. “Right. Erm, lead the way.” 

Viktor smiled knowingly and moved to retrieve the simplistic lightbox in one of the lower cabinets of the lab. “I’ll talk through the steps as I conduct it. You could, ehm, take notes for me so I could… put it in my report.” Viktor had no use for a scribe, he’d done this test what felt like hundred of times, and could probably recite it by heart by now. Still, he thought it helpful to teach Caitlyn what they were supposed to be doing. 

Her work in forensics apparently didn’t include a microbiology unit, which was surprising to Viktor, considering the University’s surplus of equipment and funding. He didn’t ponder too long on it, though, and made quick work of the setup: an intense UV bulb positioned over the box, placed into the opening at the top to block out any light from the lab. 

Viktor had sterilised extensively, wiping down the counter multiple times with some generic brand antimicrobial solution and fitting a surgical mask over his ears, careful not to disturb the small titanium stud pierced through his helix. He pushed his hair back as much as he could, but it had been too long since his last haircut, and a few strands hung down over his forehead. 

After retrieving the cultured petri dish with his name on it from the sheared incubator, he didn’t bother opening it before placing it into the box. 

Viktor looked over to ensure Caitlyn was paying attention, but instead caught her slightly rough hands scribbling circles into her notebook. 

“I, eh, wouldn’t recommend talking during this part,” Caitlyn snapped her head up at Viktor’s prodding, “but I’m going to walk you through it anyway.”

She nodded vigorously and flipped to another page of her notebook, finally noting down the few things she’d seen Viktor do in preparation. 

“Once I turn on the UV light, I am going to allow it to sit for 10 minutes, no longer. If it happens to be some sort of yeast, or similar bacteria, the growth will be seriously impaired. If not, I can rule out that possibility. Does this make sense?”

She nodded again. The silence from her end of the lab had Viktor’s shoulders tensing in a way that made his hands more shaky than usual. He wanted to prod, to ask her if she was feeling alright, to extend a similar hand in offering that she’d extended to him. Unfortunately, now was definitely not the right time. 

Viktor didn’t remove the mask as the ten minute timer sputtered shrilly on their workbench, nor when he placed his petri dish carefully back into the incubator. 

Caitlyn’s dish was next. He shivered as his eyes landed on the bulbous black mass that stretched out across the dish, long limbs now almost covering the lid completely. That was almost certainly unsafe for proper testing, but Heimerdinger was known for being a stickler about safety, so Viktor had no choice but to reach in and slide slim fingers underneath the dish, lifting it out gently. 

“Do you think you’ll be able to recreate what I did?”  Again, Caitlyn had become absorbed in her thoughts, pressing her pen sharply into the page where she’d decided to stop taking notes. Viktor approached her slowly, but she didn’t acknowledge his looming presence, even when he was standing directly next to her. 

His eyes searched her expression for some sort of indicator as to why she was so distant today, but Caitlyn held herself with a strong emotional unreadability. Her mask was much thicker than Jayce’s, thicker than many of the Piltover inhabitants, even thicker than Mel’s. He didn’t know where to start, and he really shouldn’t have been breaching the security of sterilisation he’d so painstakingly curated. 

But there was something about Caitlyn’s bowed head, the tension in her hands, that had Viktor putting the petri dish down and removing his latex gloves. 

He put a hand on her forearm. 

She looked up, but there was no gentle understanding, no apologetic glance. She just shrugged his hand off and uttered a quick “I’m fine.” 

Viktor raised an eyebrow. “Fine enough to conduct your test?” 

She exhaled sharply and looked away, trying not to furrow her brow as she pushed her stool out from underneath her. “Yes. I’ve got it all down.” 

Receiving the very obvious fuck off message that her demeanor speared through his chest, he sat on the other side of the workbench. He still wanted to supervise, but if he was being honest, also wanted to sit as far away from the evil mass that festered in her dish. 

She puttered around, struggling with the lightbox but trying to be subtle about it. Viktor decided he wouldn’t say anything. 

The door to the lab swung open again, to both of their surprise, but they both had to suppress a groan when their squatty professor walked in. Viktor turned his head back around to face away from the man, hangover absolutely not cleared enough to warrant a conversation with him. Still, Viktor removed the surgical mask. 

Heimerdinger never seemed to care about eye contact anyway, and began rattling on. “Just here to supervise! Don’t mind me, just piddling around, act natural. Do what you’d typically do. I see you’ve finally made friends,” Viktor rolled his eyes, “Miss Kiramman.” 

He wanted to shoot a glance at her, but she was already distracted enough and he was already growing nauseous at the thought of being within ten feet of her bacteria. Best, Viktor thought, to not cause any disturbances. 

Viktor felt the presence of their professor behind him before there was a tap on his shoulder. He looked at the man, who was gesturing at Viktor to exit the lab with him. 

Viktor opened his mouth and looked back at Caitlyn, still working out how to turn on the touchy lightbox. 

“It’ll be just a moment.” Heimerdinger’s voice had lowered a couple octaves, forcing an unnatural seriousness into his tone and encouraging Viktor to follow him outside. Not without a final glance in Caitlyn’s direction, as she tugged a pair of gloves over her fingers and reached for her petri dish. 

Once they were outside of the lab, Heimerdinger whipped around, not allowing Viktor any time to consider the reason as to why he had been removed from working on his project. 

“I have a favour to ask you, my boy. I have a student, a freshman, who could really do with some tutoring. She’s such a dear, but she has to work outside of classes, she doesn’t have time to study and-” 

Viktor raised his hands to massage at his temples lightly, considering the offer. He wanted to say no. He sighed. 

“What’s her contact information?” 

Viktor didn’t particularly enjoy tutoring students, he found it to be a waste of his own time and a waste of the university’s money, if their own teachers couldn’t do their jobs properly. But he had a lot of free time this year. That, and he decided it would be better not to spend too much time in his suite, cooped up with just his plants and a roommate that was impossible not to embarrass himself in front of. 

Additionally, Heimerdinger already had his pick of the litter of university-assigned tutors. If he was asking Viktor to help, something must have been really serious. 

Despite Viktor’s apparent chagrin, Heimeridnger lit up and clapped his stubby hands together. “You won’t regret this, I think you’ll get along quite well, and she’s such a sweetheart, oh she’ll be so relieved to hear it, I’ll let her know!” 

Viktor nodded dismissively, heating up at the top of his cheekbones. He moved to turn, but Heimerdinger didn’t seem to be finished yet. 

“Tonight works for you, right? Just from six to seven?” 

Shit. Tonight was plant care night. He’d been planning on staying in and cuddling up with his textbooks after a scalding shower, after tending to the leafy plants that decorated his room. He clenched his jaw and sighed again. 

“Yes, that will be fine.” Viktor didn’t want to linger, for fear he’d get roped into something else that ruined his plans, but when he returned to the lab, Caitlyn had already packed her stuff and left. She had neglected to clean up her work station, hooray. 

Something about her stubbornness today, and the unwillingness to actually follow directions, caused a certain amount of irritation to bubble up into his chest acidically. She could learn to clean her own damned mess. So could the rest of Piltover. 

He moved his bag and computer to another workbench, reaching down only to turn the UV light off so as to not needlessly waste electricity, and settled down for a long day at the lab. He hadn’t planned on leaving as early as Caitlyn did, as he had a few more test ideas in mind, but he had hoped to leave much earlier than 18:00. Naturally, he hated wasting his own energy too, so he decided to remain there until it was time for the tutoring session. 

Viktor checked the round, generic ticking clock on the wall. 11:30. His frown deepened. Might as well get started. 

_______________________

He couldn’t take his mind off of the way Caitlyn had pressed her pen sharply into the pages of her notebook. The way her flexed fists etched circles into the paper, as if throwing punches in a fight. The way she was so quiet. Viktor wanted to know what was bugging her, and it was possible that he’d assumed they were closer than he initially thought. It was understandable that she wouldn’t want to tell someone she’d just recently met, and only spent time with a total of once, what was bothering her so greatly. 

There was just such a clear difference between how she’d been acting before, when he met her at the coffee shop, and when she’d approached him in the lab. It must have been especially difficult, seeing as she let her typically immaculate mask slip at all. Viktor considered asking Violet, but remembered that he didn’t actually know if she even still went to their university. 

Jayce seemed to know her pretty well. Their families were close enough to invite each other to balls, after all, so that must have meant something significant about their relationship. It was possible that whatever burden she’d had to bear today was something too personal to even share at all, but it didn’t hurt to try and place her in the supporting hands of a friend. Plus, someone had to water his plants. 

Viktor typed out a quick message on his computer. Hey, I know you don’t have classes tonight, Mind watering my plants? Jayce will let you in. He pressed his mouth into a line, deleting the last sentence. Jayce would probably let Caitlyn into the suite before anyone else, including Viktor. 

Breathing deeply, he clicked the send icon at the corner of the window before turning back toward the incubators. It’s going to be a long day.