Chapter Text
Viktor often threw himself into the lab to escape the reality that death stalked him closer than he liked. Hextech and chronic disease were an indignant combination, but something kept Viktor locked in the lab’s metal frame until the peeking hours of the morning. Perhaps it was the fact that, on paper, this was every inventor’s dream in Runeterra and probably the greater Universe if they knew what was good for them. And, even if he wouldn’t admit it outloud, Hextech allowed him a space to search for fulfillment to a personal ambition: a cure. It was these two reasons that trumped the long days and even longer nights despite the weight of his cane and the sting of each breath in his fickle lungs.
Despite the growth of the invention.
Despite the decay of the inventor.
“Shit.” Viktor cursed as a wrench clamored out of his nimble fingers, shivering as it clanged to the floor, disrupting the auburn hum of the lab around him. Viktor sat back in his chair, pushing his goggles to the top of his head. Sighing, he drove an exhausted breath through his lungs, which, of course, could not result in anything other than another coughing fit. Lungs protesting as metallic crimson smeared across his tongue. Frigid fingers tugged the goggles off his head and pushed through his unruly hair. He needed a hot shower and some of the cough medicine his latest doctor prescribed to counteract the symptoms, but never the inevitable. Viktor glanced at the time.
2:34 am.
He nodded to himself; not the latest night in the lab, but certainly not the earliest, and although he wished to finish the mechanisms of the gauntlets Jayce had daydreamed out of his ass, the catacomb of his mind was causing the beginnings of a mental (and indeed routinely) spiral and an oncoming migraine. Viktor ran his hands over his eyebrows, smoothing the permanent stress lines engraved into his skin (had those always been there?) and under the dark bags that hung beneath his eyes, desperately trying to tame them. He supposed the only fix to sleep deprivation was, in fact, sleep.
“Fine,” he spat at the rogue wrench, sitting mockingly on the laboratory floor. “Have it your way.”
Grabbing his crutch that sat patiently on his left, he made his way to the lab doors, holding a lamp to guide him out of his demise.
“I don’t know why I didn’t expect you to be here still,” a voice called from the end of the hallway, scaring the keys out of his hands. “It seems like late nights are more of a friend to you than Jayce.”
His lips tugged into a small smile at the gentle giggle that left your lips, releasing some of the steam from the heat of his cheeks, blatant residue of his embarrassment, and his secret infatuation with you. “Must be an old companion to you, too. What are you doing awake?”
He turned to grab the keys from the floor, surprised to find that you already had picked them up, pushing them into his hands. His heart halted in his throat when your fingers briefly seared against his own. Honied eyes were quick to find yours—a desperate attempt to capture what connection might have felt like from your perspective. Still, whatever feelings you harbored for him (hatred or familiarity, some days he couldn’t tell), you kept your face neutral.
“Same as you, I suppose.” you sighed, “Stuck on a problem I don’t know if I’ll ever solve.”
Viktor scoffed, turning the key and jangling the door handle to ensure Hextech (and the future) were secured. “What project does Counselor Shoola have you trapped in now?”
“Commercially available sustainable agriculture.” it was impressive, but you sounded mildly annoyed, “You know, trying to solve the hunger problem, create impressive architecture, and keep the pocketbooks full.”
“Sounds like a cakewalk for you.” And he meant every ounce of sincerity that coated that statement. When he had met you during your undergraduate program, you were already a distinguished medicinal botanist and aspiring architect. When he had asked you all those years ago why you wanted to intertwine seemingly opposite professions, you had told him: I like plants and cool-ass buildings, so why not combine them? Besides, Vik, I am the most indecisive person you’ll ever meet, but I know these skills will help others immensely. He couldn’t argue with you there. You had helped him and Jayce on several occasions, being one of their first collaborators on the Hexgate. Without your extensive knowledge and sturdy design suggestions, the walls would have crumbled, and the symbol of Piltover and all it stands for would amount to nothing.
“Yeah, it would be. Except Shoola and I aren’t on the best terms right now.”
Curiosity killed the cat, “Why not?”
You sighed as you both stepped out of the building, closing your eyes. You leaned against the railing of the gate’s balcony, “Because I told her that this could help the people of the undercity, that we could actually do something meaningful and maybe start to bridge the gap between the city and those against it. Let’s say she wasn’t too fond of the idea.”
You sighed again, pushing your head in your hands. Your dress shimmered in the pale moonlight, and Viktor saw, for maybe the fourth time that night, another reason why he wanted to kiss you.
“What was I thinking anyways,” you muttered to yourself, stuck in a monologue, “I’m an idiot for thinking that the very people who created the separation would actually want to end it. I mean, talk about naïve. Stars, I can believe…”
You kept going, but Viktor adhered to the vision of pressing his freezing lips against yours, assuring you that you were a masterpiece of a woman and that if he were on the council, it wouldn’t have been an argument. But, out of shyness, but more likely awkward, unrequited love, he opted for a hand to the shoulder.
You halted in your speech, your eyes flicking to his own, searching, guessing what he would say next. He felt exposed somehow like you were tearing through the facade he was trying to keep his emotions covered underneath. He pulled his gaze away from yours to avoid the spotlight of your silent inquiry, staring at the stones on the floor beneath him.
“I-I think,” he breathed deeply, “I think it’s brilliant. The idea, and you.”
There was only a brief moment of silence, but the tension that wrapped itself between the two of you was suffocating. Embarrassment, white-hot, sent him into a spiral. What if I said too much? What if I didn’t say enough? Rejection was already sitting on the tip of his tongue, along with a half-assed apology on why he sputtered a nonchalant flirt instead of keeping a professional barrier between you.
But before he could attempt to cover up the tragedy of a man who never had a girlfriend, you spoke.
“Thank you, lásko, that means a lot.”
Yup, you were trying to kill him. Viktor already knew he didn’t have much time, but in the measly years he had left, he would have never imagined a moment where you had spoken to him in a language he kept close to his heart. Sure, your accent needed some work, but that didn’t stop the cartwheels and rapid acceleration of his blood circulation into every part of his body. He stuttered in silence, trying to come up with something to say other than I am rapidly falling in love with you. Would you oppose me if you stayed in my life forever?
“Oh shit,” you panicked, “I butchered that, didn’t I. Fuck.”
“No, no, you-”
“I probably disowned your family.” You slapped a hand over your forehead. “Stars, Vik, I am so sorry. I have been learning since I met you in undergrad when I have time, which is never because I totally and utterly offended your livelihood.”
Viktor had always thought he was an overthinker. He guessed he met his match.
He said your name softly, “You did it perfectly.”
A flash of relief: “Oh, thank the stars.” You took a look at your watch. “I have to go. It is late, and I must sleep before my proposal tomorrow.”
Vikor nodded, “I understand. Sweet dreams.”
“Sweet dreams, Vik.” You smiled so sweetly at him. “Will I be seeing you tomorrow?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
“Perfect, see you tomorrow then, lásko.”
You skipped off towards the train to take you home, and Viktor swallowed the disappointment that you likely had no idea the weight of the endearment and that you’d be the only nightmare plaguing his mind before he drifted to sleep. Oh, how he wishes he could escape you. But even crippling health couldn’t keep the thought of you away from him.
“Sleep well, láska.” he whispered to the stardust above him, “I hope that one day I can say that to you and mean it.”
—
It was rare that Viktor and you had overlapping lunch breaks, but he guessed that luck was on his side today. His copy of Ancient Ruins sat patiently on the side of his sandwich, dog-eared pages still stark white, as he scribbled some innuendos in his laboratory notebook. Viktor liked to take care of his belongings.
“Is this seat taken?”
“Ye-” He looked up to see you, “No, no, it isn’t.”
“Perfect!” You took your seat across from him (he’d intentionally sat at a table with two seats today, just for the chance of seeing you), opening a lunchbox with a familiar face plastered in the center.
“Is that,” Viktor cocked his head in confusion, “Jayce?”
You met his gaze, inspecting your lunch sac, “Oh, yeah.”
“I didn’t know you were infatuated with him. He didn’t strike me as your eh…type.”
You giggled, unzipping the front pocket and pulling out a mandarin orange, “There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me, Vik. Don’t tell me you’re jealous.”
He pushed down a protest, “Not jealous. Intrigued more or less.”
“Well,” you traced a finger across Jayce’s nose, “He’s just so dreamy, so strong and arrogant and yet strangely naïve and definitely having casual sex with Mel, so of course, he is exactly the man I need.”
“You think he is sleeping with Mel?”
“No,” you mocked, “I know he is sleeping with Mel. I can hear the screaming down the hallway.”
“I don’t believe you. He would have told me.”
“Please, Jayce,” you moaned in a dramatic high-pitched voice, “If you don’t fuck me right now with your ridiculously large muscles, then I am going to lose it.”
Viktor covered his ears, mostly trying to get your breathy sigh out of his head, “Okay, okay, I get it.”
“Hey,” you shrugged, “He’s setting the example; that is all I have to say about that situation. I might take after him and fuck Heimerdinger to get my proposal accepted.”
“Oh, God.” Viktor chuffed out a laugh, “I don’t want to imagine.”
“Why, Vik? Do you think he’d be too rough?”
Another giggle bubbled out of his chest, “I don’t even know if you’d feel anything.”
“Ahh, good point. Maybe I should go after Bolbok instead. At least he’d be a sturdier ride.”
Viktor was wheezing with laughter, trying desperately to calm his racing heart. It had been a long time since he had laughed as hard as he was now. Were you always this witty? He had forgotten. Besides short interactions with overlapping meetings or standing next to each other during council hearings, the only interactions he had with you were his own silent endeavors to catch you and admire you from afar. You let out a short snicker, pride rippling through your smile as you took a bite of your orange.
“A sturdier ride, huh?” he inquired, a bit cruel to take advantage of this moment, but everyone is selfish in their own way. “So, you like control?”
“I suppose.”
“Hm, I would not have guessed that.”
“Well,” you averted your eyes, a slight blush tickling your cheeks, “I like passion more than anything else.”
You stopped talking. Viktor pressed, “Go on.”
“What? Seriously? Do you want to hear about my sex life? It’s not glorious; I no longer have time for that much.”
Anymore. That was something Viktor could work with. A slow leeching of information on who you were seeing. Who was he kidding? A deflation of a person he was had no shot with someone as charming as you. Not much more to give. And with a personality as kaleidoscopic as yours, you need someone who could care for you, provide for you, and love you passionately and wholly for a long time. As Heimerdinger put it best, Viktor was a short, bright flame. Although he would love you with everything left in him, it wouldn’t be for long.
“That seems alluding.”
“Never said there wasn’t history there. Are you sure you want to know? It’s kind of a heavy topic for a Tuesday. ”
How could you not understand? How desperately he needed to solve the mysteries that you kept from him.
“I want-” Viktor took one hand in yours. Fuck time, he had to try. Right? “I want to know everything.”
“Oh.”
“Only if you want to!” He sputtered, “I just know that it is nice to talk about those things and get them off your chest with…friends.”
Stars, he hated himself. He doused his own erratic feelings, which were eating him alive, with carnosine he carried in his mouth—what a selfish, selfish fool. He was forever stuck in the walls he created; his greatest enemy was his voice inside his head. When he had an opportunity to talk to you or say something meaningful, he friend-zoned himself.
You didn’t seem to think too hard about it, “Well, I have more chemistry with my desk than any men around here. I spend more time in this building than in my bed.”
He smiled at that. He could relate; the other night was a frequent occurrence.
“And,” you continued, “I like to cherish people, things. It-it makes it hard when we live in a society where a quick fuck always has another purpose than what it stands for.”
“In what ways?”
You sighed, “Well, I mean, Vik. We live in a corrupt world. I have no hate for people who use coupling for other reasons than connection, but I just need something more meaningful. I’m exhausted from the same old flash-fire relationships; there are only so many times you can pour that much into someone just for them to never care about how you feel after they get over the excitement of the idea of you. I don’t know, it's stupid.”
“No, no.” Viktor hushed your insecurities, “I understand. You want endearment, someone to cherish you as much as you cherish them.”
You nodded, “Yeah, something like that.”
You had a distant look in your eyes as you looked down at your hands, and Viktor squinted so he could understand why your sadness felt so heavy then. At that moment, he realized just how little he knew about your life. You had opened up to him a couple of times throughout your undergraduate program, but besides working closely with the councilors of Piltover, the two of you had drifted apart softly as your interests took you further toward your distinguished careers. It intrigued him to discover exactly what happened between the gaps he had been absent from your life. It ignited a spark, a vegetation within him. He wanted to know what made you cry, what made you so happy you felt like you might burst. How did you feel about the world around you? Did it make you angry? What did sorrow feel like in your mind? What did loss mean to you, and how much did you carry within your soul? To be able to understand you made him thirsty, his throat scratchy, his skin itch. He was familiar with this kind of addiction. He craved it.
“Anyways,” you deflected, “If you had to have intercourse with one councilor to survive. Who would it be?”
“What kind of a question is that?”
“A very serious one.”
“Hmmm,” Viktor thought momentarily, relishing in the comfortable lightheartedness you brought despite the chaos that he was sure plagued your mind. “If I had to choose, I would follow your path. Bolbok seems like a…safe choice.”
“A top for sure.” you agreed.
You asked him what he was reading then. To which he replied with a rather long monologue about his arcane theory and the ruins he had been studying. Every so often, he’d look up to see you still listening, but you seemed more interested than he had thought because you offered him rather brilliant questions he hadn’t asked himself. He relished in intellectual conversation, something he couldn’t mess up; how incredible was it that you could go from joking about councilor hall passes to theorizing about quantum mechanics? Arcane was a touchy subject with most, but you welcomed it openly.
“Hmmm, that is an interesting notion.” You pondered for a second. “Do you think it could work?”
“I don’t know. I have only theoretically tested it, but unfortunately, the Hex-core has much more to offer than I had originally thought.”
You nodded, taking another slow bite of your orange. A drop of nectar ran down the corner of your mouth, and without a second hesitation, Viktor reached across the table, ran his thumb across the trail the juice had left on your chin, swept it onto the pad of his finger, and promptly pressed it onto his tongue.
“Sweet,” he whispered to himself, smiling softly.
The room hushed, and Viktor was suddenly immensely aware that you had stopped moving. He looked up to you, feeling the wildfire of a blush enrage across his cheeks. What had he done? You looked at him with wide, unvarnished eyes, your mouth slightly agape as your hand came up to trace the line Viktor had drawn across your lips.
With that, Viktor got up, shoving his book and notebook under his arm and scurrying to grab his cane, “My stars, look at that. Time to get back to work!”
He turned around, hobbling back to Heimerdinger's lab, not bothering to look back and feed the embarrassment that shivered around him. Maybe, if he had, he would have seen the dusting of pink on your cheeks and the small smile you offered as collateral for the insinuated kiss.