Chapter Text
JAYCE
It might be a perfect day this morning.
Jayce looks up to the impossibly blue sky, one only September can offer, the sun still warm like summer on his back. He sucks in a breath of fresh air and grabs Mel’s hand. She laughs as he pulls her away from their rowdy friends congregating around their cars. They move across the parking lot and concrete sidewalk towards the front doors of the new high school.
Progress High School. Built along the river Pilt and meant to bring the future of Zaun and Piltover together.
Full integration.
It’s a radical solution to years of anger and bloodshed and segregation. The Council and the leaders of Zaun finally came to an agreement. Years of tense town hall meetings, protests, and two school boards bitterly fighting for their student bodies. Now there is only one school board, with an equal number of members from the North and Southside.
It’s new. It’s parlous. And Jayce’s heart races as he and Mel rush towards the unfamiliar brick building. Even in his nervousness, in his uncertainty– he still finds there’s a smile on his face.
This is progress, is it not? Real change. Something he’s only ever dreamed of. And it’s happening. Right now. A better future. Change. And he gets to be a part of it. The excitement of it races through his veins.
A cool wind blows up the hill from the river and he pauses, catching a glimpse of the flags whipping above him. Pitlover’s gold and Zaun’s stripes towering over their students in endless battle, their hooks clinking against the metal pole that tethers them in place. Jayce blinks into the sunlight and then turns away, turning his focus to Mel. He pulls her close and watches her dark cherry lips pull tight over perfect white teeth. She beams up at him, green eyes bright and her black coils styled prettily on the top of her head for the first day of school.
She holds him tight and he buries his nose in her hair for a moment. She smells like almonds and some flower he can’t place.
“Are you ready for this?” she asks, brows going up in askance.
Jayce kisses the tip of her nose, hand sinking low on the small of her back. “More than ever,” he says. “I think it’s our year, babe.”
“You really think so?”
Mel regards him seriously, eyes sparking with intelligence. The thing he’s always admired most about her really. Yeah, she’s the most beautiful girl in the school, but it’s her mind that had Jayce’s mouth falling open like an idiot when he first met her freshman year. They were always friends first, but things shifted over the summer, and here they were.
Jayce kisses her on her full cherry mouth. She tastes like the cloves from her favorite tea and cinnamon lip gloss, the length of her body soft and warm. He pulls her in tight. A comfort, even though his heart pounds heavily in his chest. She’s still and sure underneath his touch, and yet he can’t quite make his fingers stop shaking. Can’t quite keep his breath from getting caught in his throat. Can’t quite keep the sweat from pricking his brow.
Because today’s the first day everything will change.
Jayce takes Mel’s hand in his, squeezing her reassuringly as students rush towards the front doors. It’s crowded and a little chaotic and distinctly separated.
A current of Zaunites and Pilties flood the new building all at once.
It’s hard not to stare at the Trenchers. Everything about them is different, strange even. The way they hold themselves, their clothes, their hair. There’s a certain roughness to them that can only be carved from tough childhoods. Piltover’s mayor likes to push the narrative that the Undercity is prospering, but Jayce wonders if that’s a pack of lies.
He holds tight to the strap of his backpack and takes Mel’s hand, heading towards the doors to their new school. And that’s when he notices him. A boy with a cane.
He’s walking alone up the pathway from the side of the building. He puts his weight heavily on one side, but his steps are measured, even with a quiet determination. He has a leather backpack slung over one shoulder, the fabric thin and fraying at the edges. His clothes are typical Zaun fashion, but worn and slightly ill-fitting. His woolen pullover is too baggy around his skinny frame and the legs of his dark trousers are just a little too short. He hides it with thick socks and battered boots.
Not only are kids from the Northside unused to Zaunite fashion, tattoos, and facial jewelry. It is very rare to see a person with any type of infirmity. It makes Jayce curious as he climbs the stairs leading to the front doors. What happened to him?
Then the boy looks up and Jayce wavers. Unusual amber-colored eyes suddenly catch his from the bottom of the stairs, peeking through a few unruly tendrils of auburn hair. He regards him solemnly for a long second, before blowing the hair out of his face. He contemplates the stairs for a moment, brows knitting together harshly before he takes hold of the railing with the hand not holding his cane. His grip is tight and he winces when he hauls himself up. That’s when Jayce notices his foot turns in, and the tip of his boot catches on the lip of the stair.
Yet he continues on.
Students brush by Jayce, and then Mel tugs him along.
“Come on!” she urges. “We’ll be late!”
Jayce shakes his head, cheeks reddening when he realizes he’s probably been staring. He follows Mel inside with the rush of kids, leaving the boy behind him.
It’s strange being in a brand new building. It’s crowded and rowdy and far too hot. Jayce unfolds his schedule from where it’s crumpled in his pocket and looks around searching for the signs on the walls.
Mel smiles up at him, but doesn’t kiss him, her face a little anxious and already heading towards a flight of stairs. “I think my class is this way!” she says over the noise. “I’ll see you at lunch!”
“Okay!” Jayce calls back before heading through a different corridor. There’s a large gilded framed glass in the typical Piltovian style that leads to a bright courtyard, and after that it’s another few hallways and up a small stairwell before Jayce finds the science wing. First period and it’s his Advanced Placement Physics class. It is a huge relief actually because it’s Professor Heimerdinger, a good-natured Yordle who he had already freshman year. He’s a bit goofy, and a little old-fashioned, but ridiculously smart and actually knows how to keep his class engaged.
It has the potential to be his favorite class.
Except when Jayce walks in things are much different.
Heimerdinger greets him warmly. “Glad to have you again, Mr. Talis. Please, find your assigned seat on the chart.”
Jayce quickly finds the seat he is assigned, almost in the back up against the window. He shoots a quick, casual greeting to Loras as he passes by. He’s a friendly guy, massive offensive lineman on the football team. He’s known him since he joined in seventh grade. Cait waves at him from the back of the classroom with a cheeky smile.
Jayce sighs with relief. At least there are a few people he is close with to trudge through the first period of the year with.
Jayce sits at his spot at one of the lab tables and reads the few notes Heimerdinger has left up on the board as his classmates chatter around him. He throws his bag on his lap, rooting around for his pencil case and binder when there’s a light tap to his right. It makes his head snap up. His heart leaps in his throat.
Oh .
Sitting down right next to him is the boy with the cane. He settles in, leaving his leg extended and his cane resting at the far end of the table.
“Oh,” Jayce says quiet and stupid, cheeks already growing hot. He’s just been gawking at him like an idiot a few minutes ago.
“Hi.”
The boy turns to him, his sharp, pale features softening ever so slightly when the corner of his mouth turns up.
It’s then Jayce notices the mole just above his top lip.
“Hi,” he offers and continues to set his space up for class.
Jayce deflates awkwardly, shoulders slouching forward as he rearranges his already arranged pencils and pen on his desk.
He shoves out his hand without thinking.
“I’m Jayce,” he says, slapping a smile on his face.
The boy’s eyebrow raises questioningly as he examines Jayce’s hand.
But he takes it, his thin fingers smooth and cold in Jayce’s grip.
“Viktor,” he says. Jayce can hear an accent. One he can’t place other than being decidedly not Northside.
Jayce smiles again, desperate to hide away his nervousness. “Good to meet you, Viktor. I guess we’re stuck with each other for the foreseeable future.”
His voice is overly friendly and too forward and Jayce’s ears burn with embarrassment.
Viktor opens up his notebook, copying the board as he says in his thick accent, “Eh, could be worse honestly. Last year, my lab partner was a fish species the size of an ogre who didn’t believe in bathing.”
Viktor glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “While you are obscenely large for your age, I wouldn’t classify your stature or hygiene as ‘ogre’.”
Jayce sits up straight, mouth falling open and unable to decide if he should be offended or flattered.
“Gee,” he huffs sarcastically with a defeated slouch. “ Thanks .”
The bell rings.
Heimerdinger suddenly stands on his stool, tapping his pointer over his small podium.
“You’re quite welcome,” Viktor answers, quiet and seriously before shifting in his chair, and turning his full attention to the overhead board.
Jayce slinks back in his chair with a perplexed frown, unable to concentrate.