Blades and Roses

Blades & Roses

The Rules of the Game

The clock ticks louder than usual in the silence of the detention room. Caitlyn shifts in her seat, glancing around at the cold, empty space. The walls are bare, the air stale, and the harsh fluorescent lights above hum incessantly. The room feels sparse and unwelcoming, with nothing to distract from the awkwardness that seems to hang in the air. She feels out of place here, surrounded by the emptiness of the room. Her protest—her well-thought-out plan to change the school’s sexist uniform policy—hadn’t gone the way she hoped. Instead of being celebrated for standing up for something important, she’s now stuck in detention. She flips through her notebook, scribbling, journaling her random thoughts to pass the time.

The door creaks open, and a girl with a mop of pink hair strides in, dragging her backpack behind her. She moves with an air of confidence and familiarity, as if the detention room is just another stop on a well-worn path. The room feels smaller now, her presence filling the space as she slings her bag onto the floor with a thud. She scans the room, catching Caitlyn’s eye, then rolls her eyes and pulls a chair out across from her, slouching into it with barely a word.

Caitlyn watches her in silence, trying to ignore the way the pink haired girl's presence has already shifted the atmosphere in the room. She can feel the air getting thicker, heavier, almost as if her mere presence has the ability to change the entire environment around them. It isn’t like Caitlyn to feel so unsettled, but she can’t help but feel the weight of her stare, the way she seems to occupy so much more space than her.

They sit in silence for a long time. The girl’s eyes flick over to the window, then back to the empty desks. Caitlyn starts to feel the awkwardness settle in around her, making it harder to breathe. She doesn’t know what to say, how to break the ice, or if she even wants to. But the silence is almost unbearable, the kind that makes every tick of the clock sound like a thunderclap in the otherwise empty room.

"You're here for the fight that happened on lunch, Violet right?" Caitlyn asks after what feels like an eternity.

She raises an eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. "What gave it away?" Her voice is low, rough, the kind of tone that comes from someone who’s used to being in trouble. “It’s Vi.”

Caitlyn feels a flicker of embarrassment at the question. "I... I don’t know," she says, her voice trailing off. "Just kind of assumed it was the most logical reason."

Vi snorts, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Logical reason?" she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. "That’s a good one."

Caitlyn shifts in her seat, feeling the need to say something, anything, to break the silence. "What... what were you fighting about?" she asks, more out of curiosity than anything else.

Vi gives her a sidelong glance, but doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, she just looks at Caitlyn for a moment, as if weighing whether or not to say anything at all. "Does it really matter?" she asks eventually, her voice tinged with a mix of annoyance and indifference.

"Maybe not," Caitlyn says, the words slipping out before she can think better of it. "But... It seems like the kind of thing people might want to talk about tomorrow. So if you want to tell me your side of it you can, that is if you want to."

Vi doesn’t say anything for a long time. Instead, she just returns to staring at the window, the glass reflecting the harsh light above. Caitlyn watches her, feeling a twinge of sympathy, though she’s not entirely sure why. She expected a more fiery response, something harsh and rebellious, but instead, the other girl seems almost... distant.

After another long silence, Caitlyn shifts in her seat again, feeling an unfamiliar twinge of unease. "I... I started a protest," she says, as if it’s some kind of offering, a way to fill the silence.

Vi’s head snaps around at that, the surprise visible in the way she looks at Caitlyn. "Oh yeah?" she says, as if surprised to hear that someone would actually stand up for something. "What was it about?"

"Uniform policies," Caitlyn says, almost defensively. "They have these ridiculous rules about what we can and can’t wear, how we’re supposed to look, and it’s all based on these outdated ideas about gender and... well, everything, really." She tries to keep the enthusiasm out of her voice, but there’s a spark there that she can’t quite hide.

"Sounds boring," Vi says, but there’s a hint of curiosity in the way she watches Caitlyn now, a small glimmer of interest behind her otherwise indifferent facade.

"It wasn’t," Caitlyn says, feeling a small rush of satisfaction that she finally has the chance to explain what she believes in. "At least, I didn’t think so. I mean, I didn’t do it for myself, I did it for—"

"I get it," Vi cuts in, the words sharper than she intended, as if she’s trying to push Caitlyn away. "You’re one of those do-gooders, huh? Always trying to make the world a better place, even if nobody really cares."

Caitlyn frowns, feeling a rush of irritation at the way Vi brushes her whole idea aside. "Maybe," she says, her voice coming out a bit harsher than she intended. "But that doesn’t mean it’s not important. You don’t get to decide that for everyone."

Vi tilts her head slightly, as if she’s actually considering what Caitlyn is saying. For a moment, she doesn’t look so tough, so closed off. Instead, she looks almost... thoughtful. "You really think it matters?" she asks eventually.

Caitlyn nods, feeling a sense of relief that Vi is at least showing some interest in the conversation. "Yeah," she says, more quietly this time. "I do. Because it’s about more than just clothes. It’s about respect, and fairness, and the kind of world we want to live in."

Vi stares at her for a moment longer, as if trying to figure out what Caitlyn is all about. "You really believe all that?" she asks finally, skepticism evident in her voice.

"Yeah," Caitlyn says, her voice more certain now. "Yeah, I really do."

Vi doesn’t say anything for a long time after that, and Caitlyn starts to feel the awkwardness creeping back in. She can see the tension in Vi’s face, the way she seems to be on the verge of saying something, but holds back. It’s like there’s more to this girl than the tough exterior she shows everyone, and it’s a strange feeling for Caitlyn to recognise.

"I didn’t think you’d be the type to care about stuff like this," Vi says eventually, breaking the silence.

"Why?" Caitlyn asks, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Because I look like I belong in the library or something?"

"Yeah," Vi says, with just a hint of a grin, like she’s trying to make fun of Caitlyn, but it doesn’t quite work. "Or maybe because you just don’t seem... I don’t know, like the type."

"Well, you don’t exactly fit the mould either," Caitlyn says, her words coming out more naturally than she expected. "You’re not exactly what I expected."

Vi leans back in her chair, the tension between them softening slightly. "Yeah," she says, almost to herself, "maybe that’s the whole point."

The silence stretches again, and Caitlyn shifts in her seat, trying to keep her mind from wandering. She’s not sure why, but it feels almost like a victory to have had a real conversation with Vi, even if it was brief. But the quiet is still too much, the kind that feels like it’s pressing in on her chest, making it harder to breathe.

She clears her throat, opening her mouth to say something else, when Vi speaks up.

"By the way," Vi says, her voice flat but carrying a certain finality to it. "The teacher’s not coming."

Caitlyn blinks, confused for a second. "What?"

"The teacher. They’re not coming," Vi repeats, looking over at the clock briefly before leaning back in her chair. "They never do. You’re wasting your time."

Caitlyn’s brow furrows as she processes this. She checks the clock herself, eyes narrowing when she realises that the minutes seem to be ticking by slower than usual. The thought of wasting an entire hour in this room with nothing to show for it makes her uneasy. She’s supposed to be productive, to always be working towards something meaningful. But this—this feels pointless. She could be doing something more useful.

"Wait, you mean... we’re just supposed to sit here?" she asks, her voice a little incredulous. "For the whole hour?"

Vi shrugs. "Pretty much. You get used to it."

"That’s... ridiculous," Caitlyn mutters, her frustration creeping in again. She glances around the room, at the empty desks and the cold, lifeless walls. "Why even bother, then? I could be studying. Or working on my protest—"

"Uh-huh," Vi interrupts, her voice disinterested but tinged with a slight edge. "It’s not like they care. They just throw us in here because they don’t know what else to do with us."

Caitlyn isn’t sure if Vi’s trying to provoke her or if she genuinely doesn’t care, but she can’t help the frustration bubbling up inside her. She’s always been someone who believes in rules, in systems. The idea of wasting time without any purpose, without any direction, goes against everything she stands for. But as she looks at Vi—sitting there, so effortlessly relaxed. Vi doesn’t care about that kind of thing. She doesn’t care about doing things the “right” way. She just... exists.

Caitlyn frowns. "That’s not fair," she says, her voice quieter now, almost uncertain. "Detention is supposed to be for punishment, not for letting us waste time. I mean, if they’re going to put us here, shouldn’t they at least make it worth something? Like, make us write an essay or something?"

Vi tilts her head, looking at Caitlyn as if she’s hearing this for the first time. "I guess," she says, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "But it’s not like they care if we learn anything, right? It’s just a way to get rid of us."

Caitlyn shakes her head, but she’s still processing what Vi is saying. "That’s messed up," she mutters under her breath.

Vi shrugs again, completely unfazed. "Life’s messed up. Get used to it."

For a moment, Caitlyn doesn’t know how to respond. She wants to argue, to fight back against this apathy, but she can’t find the words. It’s like Vi’s resignation has knocked the wind out of her sails. She’s used to fighting for what she believes in, but with Vi—someone who seems to have stopped fighting altogether—it feels harder than usual.

"Well," Caitlyn says finally, feeling the silence creep in again, "what do you usually do in here then?"

Vi leans back in her chair, hands behind her head, and looks up at the ceiling. "Nothing. Just sit here and zone out. Or nap. It’s not like anyone’s paying attention."

Caitlyn nods slowly, her mind racing as she thinks about her options. She could try to make the most of the time and get some studying done, or maybe—just maybe—she could find a way to start understanding Vi a little better. The girl doesn’t seem like she cares about much, but there’s something about her, something Caitlyn can’t quite place. Maybe it’s the way she challenges everything Caitlyn believes, or the fact that Caitlyn’s never really had to deal with someone like Vi before.

"That sounds... boring," Caitlyn says, her voice light, trying to steer the conversation back to safer ground. "Isn’t there anything you actually want to do? Besides, I don’t know, not care about school?"

Vi looks at her for a long time, her expression unreadable. Then, after a beat, she says, "I care about some things. Just not this."

"Like what?" Caitlyn presses, curiosity getting the better of her.

For a moment, Vi seems to hesitate. It’s small, almost imperceptible, but Caitlyn notices it. Then, just as quickly, the mask slides back into place.

"Sports," Vi says simply, without looking at her. "Ice hockey. That’s what I care about. That’s the only thing I’m good at."

Caitlyn’s brow furrows. "But... there’s more to you than that, right? I mean, you’re not just your sport."

Vi scoffs, leaning forward slightly. "Are you trying to get me to open up, or something?"

Caitlyn bites her lip, her mind running through her options. She wasn’t trying to get Vi to open up vastly. Not really. But she’s been around enough people to know that sometimes, when people shut themselves off, it’s because there’s something more hiding underneath. Something they’re not ready to face.

"I guess I am," Caitlyn says honestly, the words slipping out before she can stop them. "But I’m not going to push you. I just—" She pauses, unsure of how to finish her thought. "I just want to know more about you."

Vi looks at her, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Why?"

Caitlyn shrugs, feeling slightly uncomfortable under the intensity of Vi’s gaze. "I don’t know. You’re... different. You seem like you don’t care about anything, but I don’t believe that. Not really. Plus it doesn’t look like either of us have anything better to do."

For a long time, there’s nothing but the sound of the clock ticking. Then, slowly, Vi exhales and leans back in her chair again, her shoulders relaxing slightly.

"Maybe I don’t care about most things," she says quietly, almost as if she’s speaking to herself. "But it’s easier that way. Caring just...usually makes things more complicated."

Caitlyn doesn’t know how to respond to that, doesn’t know if she should even try. She knows she’s out of her depth here, that there’s something more going on beneath the surface of Vi’s words, but she’s not sure what.

"Yeah," Caitlyn says softly, "but I think it’s worth it. Complicated or not."

Vi stands up abruptly, pushing her chair back with a scrape that echoes in the otherwise quiet room. Caitlyn barely has time to react before Vi grabs her bag off the back of her chair and slings it over her shoulder, her posture relaxed and confident as always.

“Well, we've waited long enough for the halls to empty. I’m heading out,” Vi says, giving Caitlyn a glance as she heads for the door.

Caitlyn blinks, still in a bit of a daze from the conversation. "Wait, what? You can't just leave," she protests, her voice rising slightly in panic.

Vi pauses, her hand resting on the doorframe as she looks back at Caitlyn with an almost amused expression. “I can, and I will. It's detention, not like we’re obliged to be in here alone anyway. Trust me, nothing’s gonna happen. The teacher’s not showing up. You really wanna wait for a non-existent lesson?”

"But—" Caitlyn’s voice falters. She can’t just let Vi walk out of here, especially when there’s still time left. She’s always been a stickler for the rules, and the thought of just abandoning detention doesn’t sit well with her. Her mind races through the usual justifications: the rules are there for a reason.

"You can't just leave. We’re supposed to stay in here until the end of the hour," Caitlyn argues, standing up from her chair in a rush. Her voice shakes a little with the intensity of her words. “I mean, what if someone comes in and we’re not here? We’ll get in trouble.”

Vi turns back to face her, a lazy smirk on her lips. "You’re so cute, Cait. The teacher’s not coming. They never do. We’ve got, what—thirty minutes left? I’m not sitting in here for any more minutes, waiting for a ghost.”

“But—” Caitlyn starts, biting her lip. She’s never been one to break the rules. If there’s one thing she’s always believed in, it’s that things have to be done the right way, even if it’s inconvenient. It’s how her mind works—everything needs structure, purpose. She glances at the clock again. It’s still ticking, but there’s no sign of anyone coming. Her stomach churns a little with the tension.

Vi looks at her, clearly seeing the internal struggle on Caitlyn’s face. She leans casually against the doorframe, eyes narrowed but not in a way that’s threatening. It’s more like she’s watching Caitlyn try to puzzle through it all. "Look," she says, her tone softer now, but with that same indifference. "It’s just detention. Nothing's gonna happen if we leave. You’re not gonna get in any more trouble than whatever it was you caused to be here. And if you really want to be that good rule-follower, then fine, but you’re gonna waste your time here."

Caitlyn’s fingers twitch as she glances around the room. She knows Vi is right, but the nagging feeling in her chest doesn’t go away. She knows the rules, and this? This feels like breaking them.

Vi pushes off the doorframe, walking back to her desk. “You can stay if you want,” she says with a shrug, “but I’m not. We can both just pretend like I was here the whole time.” She says the words lightly, almost like a joke, but Caitlyn can see the way her shoulders relax as she speaks. She’s already made up her mind, and nothing’s going to change it.

Caitlyn hesitates, her gaze flicking back to the clock. Twenty-eight minutes. She bites the inside of her cheek. This is ridiculous. Maybe Vi’s right. Maybe the teacher’s not going to show. Maybe Caitlyn is being overly rigid, but that’s always been her nature, her way of handling the world.

"Are you really going to leave?" Caitlyn asks again, her voice softer now, like she’s trying to reason with herself.

Vi turns back, raising an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "What’s the worst that can happen? You really think anyone’s going to care about a couple of seniors skipping out on a detention?"

Caitlyn doesn’t answer right away. She’s not entirely sure what she believes. Part of her still wants to stay, to do things the right way. But another part of her—something she can’t quite pinpoint—sees Vi’s carefree attitude and wonders what it would be like to just... let go. Just once.

The silence stretches for a moment, until Vi sighs, her voice suddenly less teasing. "I’m just saying... it’s not worth it to sit here doing nothing. You can go back to your rules, your perfect little world of doing everything the right way... or you can take a step out of that box and live a little. Maybe, for once, just leave the rules behind."

Vi’s words sit in the air, heavy and sharp, and Caitlyn feels a little breathless. There’s something in the way Vi says it, the way she challenges Caitlyn’s entire way of thinking, that makes her stomach flip. The rules have always kept her safe, have always made her feel like she has some control in a world that’s often too chaotic to understand. But Vi... Vi doesn’t care about the rules. Vi doesn’t need them.

"Okay, fine," Caitlyn mutters after a long pause. The words leave her mouth with a strange mix of defiance and resignation. "But only because I really don’t want to sit here anymore."

A small, approving grin spreads across Vi’s face. “That’s the school spirit,” She walks to the door, pulling it open with ease. "Come on, let’s get out of here before anyone sees us."

Caitlyn stands there for a moment, her heart still racing from the decision, but as she follows Vi out of the room, a small, rebellious spark flares inside her. Maybe it’s not so bad to step out of the lines every once in a while.

They head down the corridor together, the echo of their footsteps filling the empty halls. Caitlyn’s mind is still spinning, but for the first time that day, she doesn’t feel like she’s fighting herself.

When they reach the exit, Vi pushes open the door to the carpark with a casual flick of her wrist. Caitlyn hesitates, looking around, as if expecting someone to pop out and catch them. But the place is deserted, and the usual chaos of students hurrying to their next class, practice or home is entirely absent. The air is crisp, and for a moment, Caitlyn takes in a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day—of the expectations—begin to lift.

Caitlyn watches as Vi pulls out her keys, then pushes herself off the wall. She feels it everytime she moves.Something different. Something unexpected. She starts to fumble through her bag, her fingers trembling slightly as she digs for her phone. Finally, her fingers close around her phone, and she pulls it out triumphantly. Her screen lights up with a single message from Jayce.

Jayce:"Gone home with Mel. Sorry, couldn’t wait around. Hope you’re okay. Call me if you need anything!"

Her stomach tightens. Of course. Mel always comes first with him, leaving Caitlyn to fend for herself. Not that she can entirely blame him—Mel is… well, Mel, his girlfriend—but it still stings. She bites her lip, trying to decide what to do. Her mother would expect her home promptly, no matter the circumstances, and she doesn’t have many options for a ride.

“Everything alright there?”

The voice startles her. She glances up to see Vi watching her, her hands are shoved into the pockets of her jacket, and though her tone is casual, there’s a flicker of concern in her expression.

Caitlyn clears her throat, quickly locking her phone screen. “It’s fine. I’ll… I’ll figure it out.”

Vi raises an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “Sure you will. What’s the problem?”

“Jayce was supposed to give me a ride home, but he’s… unavailable.” Caitlyn mutters, glancing at her feet. “I need to find another way home.”

Vi straightens up, taking a few steps closer. “Want a ride?”

The offer catches Caitlyn off guard. She looks up sharply, her brow furrowed. “What?”

“A ride,” Vi repeats, her tone matter-of-fact. “I’ve got my car right over there. Unless you’d rather call someone else? You’d rather stick around here all night?”

Caitlyn hesitates, the automatic urge to decline bubbling up. But then she glances around the carpark. It’s nearly empty, and the thought of trying to call her mother for a ride fills her with dread.

Vi shrugs, already heading toward her car. “Suit yourself.” Caitlyn watches her go, her steps confident, her silhouette cutting clean lines against the dim light. After a beat, Caitlyn tightens her grip on her bag and follows.

She exhales sharply. “Alright. Thank you.”

Vi smirks faintly, nodding towards a car parked near the edge of the lot. “Come on, then.”

Vi’s car is an old hatchback, its once-sleek paint now faded and speckled with scratches. Caitlyn notices two figures leaning against its side, their shapes illuminated by the parking lot lights. Powder is the first to catch her eye, her vivid blue hair impossible to miss. She’s pressed up against Ekko, laughing softly as she wraps her arms around his shoulders. Ekko leans down to kiss her, his movements slow and unhurried, as if the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Caitlyn knows them from around the school, they’re only freshmen, but Caitlyn knew almost everyone in this school. That’s what you got at the top of the high school hierarchy.

Vi clears her throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Hey, lovebirds. Why are you even still here?”

Powder and Ekko jump apart, startled. Powder turns towards her sister, her grin wide and unapologetic. “We were working on the new mural,” she says, gesturing vaguely at the art supplies spilling out of Ekko’s backpack. “Figured we’d wait for our ride home.”

Vi eyes the mess with a raised brow. “You’re lucky I’m nice. Now get in. Back seat.”

Ekko straightens up, his eyes flicking to Caitlyn. His brow furrows, curiosity evident. “Who’s this?”

Vi shrugs, tossing her keys into the air and catching them. “Just someone from school. Needed a ride.”

Caitlyn shifts uncomfortably under his gaze but doesn’t say anything. Powder, meanwhile, doesn’t miss a beat. “Ohhh,” she drawls, dragging out the syllable. “What’s the story here?”

“Don’t start,” Vi mutters, unlocking the car. “Get in the back, both of you. Let’s go.”

Powder grins but doesn’t push further. She grabs Ekko’s hand and tugs him into the back seat, leaving Caitlyn to awkwardly climb into the front. Powder chattering about their mural as Ekko listens with a soft smile.

Caitlyn hesitates by the passenger door, feeling like an intruder in this tight-knit little group.

“You getting in or what?” Vi asks, already buckling her seatbelt.

“Right. Yes,” Caitlyn stammers, quickly sliding into the passenger seat and closing the door behind her.

The interior of the car smells faintly of paint and something sweet—maybe its the scent of their detergent, floral. Powder and Ekko’s voices blend into the background as Caitlyn sits stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, bag at her feet.

Vi starts the engine, and turns on the radio. A familiar rock tune filters through the speakers, filling the silence with a steady beat. Vi glances at Caitlyn. “You good with this, or do you need classical or something?”

Caitlyn flushes. “This is fine.”

Powder leans forward, resting her chin on the back of Vi’s seat. “She’s probably into jazz,” she teases.

“Powder, sit back,” Vi says, though there’s no real heat in her voice.

Powder grins, retreating, and Ekko leans in to whisper something to her, earning a quiet laugh. Caitlyn feels a pang of discomfort at how out of place she is in this dynamic.

“Where am I taking you?” Vi asks.

Caitlyn rattles off her address, and Vi raises an eyebrow. “Figures,”

“What does that mean?” Caitlyn asks, frowning.

“Nothing,” Vi says with a shrug, she mutters under her breath, though Caitlyn doesn’t catch what she says.

The route is quiet, interrupted only by Powder and Ekko’s occasional murmured conversation in the back and Vi’s fingers tapping the steering wheel in time with the music and the occasional instruction from Caitlyn. When they finally pull up to her house, Vi whistles low, her eyes scanning the pristine hedges and warm lights spilling from the windows.

“Damn,” she says. “Didn’t know I was chauffeuring royalty.”

Caitlyn stiffens, but she doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, she unbuckles her seatbelt and grabs her bag. “Thanks for the ride,” she says, her voice clipped, before stepping out of the car.

Vi watches as she walks up the driveway, her posture straight and her head held high. Only when Caitlyn disappears inside does Vi put the car into gear and pull away.

Powder leans forward almost as soon as they drive away, resting her chin on the back of Vi’s seat. “Sooo,” she drawls, drawing out the word. “Why’d you give high school royalty a ride home?”

Vi glances at her in the rear-view mirror. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Powder says, grinning. “The Caitlyn Kiramman. Miss Perfect Grades. Captain of… something. Why’d she need a ride from you?”

“We were in detention together. She didn’t have one,” Vi says simply, keeping her eyes on the road.

Ekko smirks. “Since when are you her chauffeur?”

“I’m not,” Vi says, rolling her eyes.

“Sure,” Powder teases, nudging Ekko. “Bet she’s got a crush on you.”

“Yeah, right,” Vi scoffs, though the faint pink creeping up her neck betrays her. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” Ekko asks, smirking. “She looked so out of place in your car.”

Vi shrugs. “She’s just some girl from school. I gave her a ride. End of story.”

“But she’s kinda cute, don’t you think?”

“Powder,” Vi says sharply, but the faint pink in her cheeks betrays her.

Ekko chuckles. “You totally think she’s cute.”

If this is what she got for being out as one of the only gay kids in school. Well. “Shut up,” Vi mutters, though her lips twitch as if fighting a smile.

--

The smell of something savoury wafts through the house as Vi pushes open the door, the faint creak of its hinges breaking the quiet. Powder bounds in ahead of her, kicking off her paint-splattered boots by the door.

“Home!” she calls out loudly, her voice echoing through the space.

Vander emerges from the kitchen, a wooden spoon in one hand and a dish towel slung over his shoulder. His broad frame almost fills the doorway as he glances up with a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo,” he greets, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. His eyes shift to Ekko, who’s stepping in behind her. “Little man, here for food again?”

Ekko nods sheepishly as Powder skips across the room to hug Vander, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle. “What’s for dinner?” she asks, tilting her head back to look up at him.

“Chicken stew,” Vander replies, ruffling her hair. “Got some fresh bread on the side too.”

Powder groans dramatically. “You’re the best.”

“Don’t I know it,” Vander says with a chuckle before gently nudging her toward the living room, releasing her from his bear-like hug.

Powder drags Ekko with her, both of them making a beeline for the couch. They sink into the cushions, Powder already reaching for the game controllers scattered across the coffee table. “I’m taking you down this time,” she warns Ekko, who laughs and leans back like he’s already won.

Vi watches the scene unfold, a faint smile tugging at her lips. She edges toward the stairs, intent on disappearing into her room before Vander can notice anything amiss.

“Vi.”

She freezes halfway up, her hand gripping the bannister. The calm weight of Vander’s voice leaves no room for argument. She exhales slowly and turns, leaning against the railing with an exaggerated nonchalance. “Yeah?”

Vander’s gaze sharpens as he takes in her face, the faint purple bloom around her left eye impossible to miss. He doesn’t say anything at first, but the look is enough.

“It’s nothing,” Vi says quickly, already defensive. “I’m fine.”

“Come here,” Vander says, gesturing toward the kitchen.

Vi groans under her breath but obeys, her sneakers thudding softly against the floor as she follows him.

“Set the table,” Vander says, handing her a stack of plates before turning back to the stove.

She huffs but starts placing them around the table. The sound of clinking ceramic fills the brief silence before Vander speaks again, his tone casual but firm. “You want to tell me what happened?”

“I told you—it’s nothing,” Vi mutters, focusing on the plates as if aligning them perfectly will make him drop the subject.

“Violet.”

The weight of her name makes her shoulders sag. She glances toward the living room, where Powder and Ekko are now loudly arguing over the game, then back at Vander. “Someone was saying stuff. About Powder.”

Vander pauses, his grip on the spoon tightening slightly. “What kind of stuff?”

“Stuff about… about her, and about Mum not being around,” Vi admits, her voice dropping. “I just… lost it, okay? I couldn’t let them get away with it.”

Vander turns, leaning against the counter as he studies her. “You know fighting doesn’t solve anything, right?”

Vi scoffs. “It shut them up, didn’t it?”

“For now,” Vander says evenly. “But it doesn’t change what they think. And it doesn’t stop them saying it when you’re not there.”

Vi’s jaw tightens, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. “What was I supposed to do? Just let them talk crap about her, our family?”

“No,” Vander says softly. “But you don’t have to throw punches to defend her. You’re better than that.”

Vi looks away, her hands gripping the edge of the table. “I couldn’t help it,” she mutters. “It’s like… they’re messing with me. I can’t just stand there.”

Vander lets the silence hang for a moment before speaking. “When I was your age,” he begins, his voice taking on a reflective tone, “there was this guy at school. Big fella, bigger than me even. Used to pick on this scrawny kid in my class. Everyone else turned a blind eye, but I couldn’t. Got into it with him one day after school. Thought I’d won something when I came out of it with a busted lip and him limping away.”

Vi glances up, curious despite herself.

“You know what happened after that?” Vander continues. “Next day, he was back at it. Didn’t matter how many times I fought him—it just gave him more fuel. It wasn’t until I talked to that kid he was picking on, helped him stand up for himself, that things actually started to change.”

Vi frowns, leaning against the counter. “So you’re saying I should… what? Talk to them? Pretty sure that’ll go well.”

Vander chuckles softly. “I’m saying there are smarter ways to handle it. Ways that don’t leave you with a black eye.”

Vi doesn’t respond, her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Look, kid,” Vander says, his tone softening, “I get it. You’ve got a fire in you—that’s not a bad thing. But you’ve got to learn when to use it and when to hold back. For Powder’s sake, if nothing else.”

Vi exhales slowly, the tension in her shoulders easing slightly. “Yeah. Okay.”

Vander claps a hand on her shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. “Good. Now grab the cutlery, would you? Dinner’s almost ready. And there’s an ice pack in the freezer box if you need it.”

Vi nods and moves to the drawer, her movements more relaxed now. As she sets the forks and knives beside the plates, she can hear Powder’s laughter spilling over from the living room, mingling with Ekko’s playful protests.

--

The early morning air is crisp, the sun still low in the sky as Vi pulls her beat-up car into the student lot of Piltover Heights High. Powder is sprawled out in the passenger seat, one leg folded under her, scrawling over her hand with a pen she found in the footwell of the car. She hums something under her breath, a tune Vi vaguely recognises but can’t place.

“Alright, you’re here. Out you go,” Vi says, throwing the car into park.

Powder doesn’t budge. She’s staring out the window, her face lighting up with a mischievous grin. “Look who it is,” she says, her voice sing-song.

“What?” Vi leans back slightly, craning her neck to follow Powder’s gaze. Sure enough, there’s Caitlyn, standing just off the main steps to the school, a coffee cup in one hand and her backpack slung over one shoulder. Her hair is pulled neatly back into a ponytail today, and her uniform—perfectly ironed, of course—looks pristine against the grey morning.

Powder’s grin only widens. “You’re staring.”

Vi immediately scowls and looks away. “Am not.”

“You so are.” Powder unclips her seatbelt and grabs her bag. “And—oh my god—she’s looking over here.”

“What?” Vi glances back despite herself, just in time to catch Caitlyn’s gaze. It’s brief, but Caitlyn’s lips twitch into a small smile, and she raises her hand in a little wave.

Vi freezes, her stomach doing an unexpected flip. “Shit.”

Powder cackles as she shoves the car door open. “Smooth, sis. Real smooth.” She hops out, throwing her bag over her shoulder. “See you after school!”

Vi glares after her but doesn’t say anything, her attention flicking back to the scene ahead. Powder skips off toward Ekko, who’s waiting on the steps with his skateboard propped against his knee. He waves her over, already launching into some animated story as they disappear into the crowd and inside the highschool building.

Vi exhales, gripping the steering wheel tightly. For a moment, she debates staying in the car until the first bell rings, avoiding the inevitable awkwardness of whatever that wave was supposed to mean. But Caitlyn’s still there, glancing toward her again, and Vi knows it’ll look worse if she just sits there.

Reluctantly, she grabs her bag and steps out of the car.

Caitlyn notices her immediately. She straightens, her expression softening as Vi approaches. “Morning,” Caitlyn says, her voice polite but a little unsure.

“Hey,” Vi replies, shoving her hands into her jacket pockets. She’s suddenly hyper-aware of how scruffy she must look compared to Caitlyn.

“I got this for you,” Caitlyn says, holding out one of the coffee cups in her hands. “To say thank you for the ride home yesterday.”

Vi blinks, caught off guard. “You didn’t have to do that.”

Caitlyn shrugs, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I wanted to.”

Vi hesitates but takes the cup anyway, her fingers brushing against Caitlyn’s briefly. The coffee is warm, the heat seeping through the cardboard and into her palms.

“Thanks,” Vi mutters, glancing at the ground.

Before Caitlyn can respond, a sharp voice cuts through the air. “Caitlyn!”

They both turn to see Maddie, one of Caitlyn’s polished and perpetually smug friends, walking toward them with her usual air of entitlement. She spares Vi a brief glance, her expression unreadable, before her attention zeroes in on Caitlyn.

“There you are,” Maddie says, looping her arm through Caitlyn’s. “We’re going to be late for class.”

Caitlyn looks back at Vi, an apologetic smile on her face. “I’ll see you around, Vi.”

“Yeah, sure,” Vi replies, watching as Caitlyn lets Maddie lead her away.

She stands there for a moment, feeling an odd pang of disappointment as she watches Caitlyn disappear into the crowd. It’s stupid, really—she barely knows her.

With a shake of her head, she starts walking toward her locker, taking a sip from the coffee cup as she goes. The coffee’s good—black with just a hint of sugar, the way Vi likes it. How Caitlyn knew that would be a mystery.

She glances down at the cup as she walks, and that’s when she sees it: a small note written in blue pen on the side of the cup.

“For the chauffeur—thanks for the ride!”

Below it, there’s a tiny doodle of a heart.

Vi stops in her tracks, staring at the cup for a moment before a grin spreads across her face. She tucks the cup closer to her, smirking as she heads to class.

For the first time in a long while, the start of the day doesn’t feel so bad.