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The Kiramman estate kitchen smelled like cinnamon, cardamom, and something gently toasting. Vi leaned against the edge of a marble counter that probably cost more than her entire childhood block, an apple in one hand, the other casually flicking a knife she’d borrowed from a chopping board beside her. The apple was already half gone, sliced with idle precision and piece by piece disappearing between bites as she talked.
“So wait, he actually slipped on a waxed floor and knocked over the entire dessert cart?”
Mira, one of the older housemaids, nodded with a dignified seriousness that barely masked her amusement. “Your wording is crude, dear, but yes. Head over heels. Raspberry mousse everywhere.”
Vi barked out a laugh and nearly choked on her apple. “Please tell me someone got that on the security crystals.”
“There are strict no-recording policies in estate halls,” said a younger maid quickly, like she was used to saying it. Then, quieter: “But enough people witnessed.”
Vi grinned. Mira gave her a wink.
Across the kitchen, one of the butlers—Mr. Alden, grayed at the temples but still moving with the precision of a general—was preparing a covered tea tray. Vi had wandered in ten minutes ago under the pretense of "checking on Cait's snacks" but had stayed, predictably, to chatter with everyone. She was halfway through her apple now, and had managed to charm three people into telling her mildly scandalous stories about Caitlyn’s cousins.
Behind them, a kettle whistled low, then clicked off. Alden moved automatically, efficient and practiced, pouring the hot water over the loose-leaf blend in Caitlyn’s favorite porcelain pot.
“You always come in here to wait when she asks for tea,” Mira said, folding a dishcloth with the kind of loving familiarity that made it more ritual than chore.
Vi shrugged. “She likes the pink cups. Someone’s gotta make sure she gets the pink cups.”
There was a beat of quiet. Just warm, comfortable silence among people who had known each other long enough to appreciate it. Vi glanced toward the hallway, where Caitlyn was somewhere in the sitting room, waiting for her. Probably reading. Probably already halfway into work mode despite it being her day off. Vi smiled to herself.
Then Alden straightened slightly and cleared his throat.
“Permission to take early leave today,” he said, mostly to Mira but loud enough for the room to hear, “granted by Miss Caitlyn herself. My granddaughter’s visiting for the week. Thought I’d take her to the festival.”
Vi blinked. “There’s a festival today?”
“The Summer Crossing,” Alden replied. “First time in, what, thirty years? They're holding it in both Zaun and Piltover. Joint celebration. The Council’s been working on the logistics for months.”
“They finally pulled it off?” Vi said, her tone shifting from curiosity to quiet awe. “Damn.”
Mira nodded. “Brick by brick, dear. It’s slow, but it’s happening. This kind of peace… we never thought we’d live to see it.”
Vi’s fingers tapped against her apple core thoughtfully.
She remembered Zaun’s summer festivals when she was little. Nothing fancy, just flickering paper lanterns strung between support beams, sticky-fingered kids chasing each other through smoke and steam, music thumping from homemade speakers. Half the games didn’t work properly and the food was always greasy but gods, it meant something. For one night, things didn’t feel so heavy. Even Silco used to tell his goons to stay low, to behave that day. It had been a long time since she’d seen anything like that.
She bit another piece off the apple and said casually, “Hey, uh… Did Caitlyn ever go to those festivals? Y’know, when she was a kid?”
The question didn’t surprise anyone. Vi asked about Caitlyn all the time. It was half-charming, half-endearing and completely obvious how much she cared. At this point, the staff didn’t even blink at it.
Alden paused in adjusting the tea tray. “No,” he said after a moment. “She wanted to, badly. Especially when she was young.”
Mira made a soft, almost maternal sound.
“Lady Cassandra and Lord Tobias were rarely available in summer,” Alden continued. “And Master Jayce was often buried in council work or engineering logistics. She didn’t have anyone to take her.”
Vi’s brow furrowed.
“She asked for a few years,” he went on. “But she learned quickly not to expect much. Eventually she stopped asking altogether.”
The kitchen had gone quiet. The kind that sits low and heavy, like dust after something breaks. Vi chewed slowly, gaze dropping to the polished countertop.
She’d lost her parents. Everything went to hell, yeah. But back then, she'd still had Powder, Claggor, Mylo. Vander, most importantly. Always someone around. Always someone to scrap with, to lean on, to run toward or away from. The thought of Caitlyn—tiny, quiet, probably wearing some stiff little dress in this big, echoing house—waiting by the door all day for no one to come get her… Her heart gave an uninvited ache.
She swallowed and cleared her throat, her voice softer. “Thanks for tellin’ me.”
Alden gave her a small nod. There was nothing in his expression but honesty. He knew she’d use the information with care. She always did. Before the mood could sink deeper, Mira clapped her hands together gently. “Well. That’s enough nostalgia. Vi, darling, the tea and appetizers are ready. Pink cup included.”
Vi’s smile came back slowly, tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re a miracle worker, Mira.”
She set her apple core down on a napkin, took the tray carefully in both hands and turned toward the door.
Caitlyn’s tea, sweet and floral, a tiny plate of her favorite seeded crackers and soft cheese, and a pair of fluffy steamed buns for Vi herself, because Mira swore she looked too thin lately. “Enjoy your break, Alden,” she said. “Tell your granddaughter she’s got the best damn grandpa in both cities.”
The butler inclined his head, just enough to hide the pleased twitch of his lips.
Vi stepped out of the kitchen with a lightness in her step that hadn’t been there before. Because now, she had a new plan.
And it started with a tray of tea, and her girl waiting for her in the other room.
☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ
The door swung open with the soft creak of polished brass hinges, and Vi stepped into the sun-drenched living room, balancing the tea tray like it was a priceless artifact. Afternoon light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting lace-edged shadows across the parquet floors and overstuffed furniture. Everything smelled faintly of lavender, old books, and distant city blooms from the window boxes just beyond the balcony doors.
Caitlyn was curled up on the divan by the fireplace, one leg tucked beneath her, the other stretched out lazily. A paperback rested in her lap, its pages half-open and half-forgotten as she tilted her head toward the window, soaking in the golden light. Her hair was loose, Vi always liked it like that, and her shirt was soft and wrinkled from lounging, sleeves rolled to her elbows.
“Delivery,” Vi called softly, like her voice might disturb the quiet magic of the afternoon.
Caitlyn looked over, and her face lit up in that subtle, Caitlyn-way; eyebrows lifted just a little, the corner of her mouth curling like it couldn't help itself.
“And here I was thinking you only went to the kitchen to flirt with Mira again,” she said.
Vi snorted. “Can you blame me? She's the only one who gives me the good gossip.”
“Mm. I’m sure that’s all she gives you.”
“Jealous, Sheriff?” Vi teased, crossing the room with easy steps, tray steady in her hands.
Caitlyn didn’t answer. She just patted the space beside her on the divan without looking away, which Vi took as both invitation and challenge.
“Coming right up, your honor,” Vi murmured as she settled down beside Cait, tray in her lap. She handed over the delicate teacup like it might shatter under the weight of her fingers.
Caitlyn took it with practiced grace. Their hands brushed. Neither of them pulled away.
“You remembered the pink cup,” Caitlyn said, almost to herself.
Vi smiled, crooked and fond. “Told you. Someone’s gotta.”
They sat like that for a while, no rush in either of them. The only sounds were the rustling leaves outside the balcony and the occasional whistle of a distant bird. Time slowed, thick like honey, stretching gently around them. Vi leaned her shoulder against Caitlyn’s. Caitlyn didn’t move, their ankles tangled together loosely without thought.
Caitlyn sipped her tea. Vi tore apart one of her steamed buns and popped half into her mouth. When Caitlyn glanced sideways, Vi just smirked and reached over to dab at a smear of sauce on Cait’s lower lip with her thumb, wiping it off with exaggerated care.
Caitlyn caught her hand before it could pull back. She opened her mouth to guide the fingers inside before kissing them clean. Vi felt something flutter in her chest like it always did when Caitlyn did that. Something stupid and young and full of awe.
“You’re disgustingly soft lately,” Caitlyn said, not letting go of her hand.
“Can you blame me?” Vi echoed her from earlier. “Look who I’ve got to be soft for.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite smother her smile. Her thumb rubbed slow circles against Vi’s palm. Another minute passed, soft and quiet. Then Vi shifted a little, just enough to catch Caitlyn’s gaze more directly.
“Hey, so… Alden’s taking leave today,” she said, trying for casual. “Said you gave him permission.”
Caitlyn nodded, lifting her cup again. “Mhm. His granddaughter’s visiting. Sweet girl.”
“Yeah,” Vi said, echoing again. “Said he’s takin’ her to the festival.”
Caitlyn hummed into her tea, eyes on the window now. “Lucky girl,” she said, almost wistful. “He’ll spoil her rotten. He’s quite fond of her.”
Vi chuckled. “Said the same thing about you.”
Caitlyn arched an eyebrow. “About me?”
“Heard you’re very sweet on me, and me on you.”
Caitlyn blinked. Then gave her the driest deadpan expression imaginable. “Is that so.”
“Don’t deny it,” Vi said, bumping her shoulder again. “You made Mira give me double buns last week. That’s love.”
Caitlyn shook her head, amused. Her tea rippled in her cup from her laughter, Vi let the laughter settle, let the quiet return. Then, with a softness she reserved for almost no one else in the world, she asked:
“You wanna?”
Caitlyn turned her head. “I want to… what?”
Vi hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. “Go to the festival. With me.”
For a second, Caitlyn didn’t answer. She just looked at Vi, studying her like she was reading something unspoken between the lines of a page.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. It was that no one had ever really asked her before.
“Is that something you’d like to do?” Said Caitlyn, after a pause.
Vi caught the pause. She softened her voice even more. “If it’s with you,” she said, “then, yeah. I want to.”
Caitlyn’s gaze flickered to the cup in her hands, then back up. Something in her chest shifted; something quiet, deep, and old. Some corner of that young girl who once stood by the front door in a pretty dress that no one ever complimented, waiting for someone to swoop her up and towards to fun…
Vi was here now. Vi was asking.
Caitlyn set her cup down, deliberate and slow. She leaned in, just enough that her forehead brushed Vi’s temple. “Okay,” she said, her voice warm. “Let’s go to the festival.”
Vi turned toward her, smiling like the sun had settled in her chest.
“You’re gonna love it,” she murmured. “Lights, music, probably some terrible fried food…”
“If you make me eat funnel cake from a Zaunite street vendor, I swear—”
“Too late, already planning it.”
Caitlyn kissed her then, quiet and sure.
☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ
The first thing Caitlyn noticed was the scent.
Zaun festivals didn’t smell like Piltover’s streets; no rosewater mist or chilled wine, no powdered sugar or slow-roasted almonds. This was something else entirely. It smelled like hot oil and spiced meat, of fried dough and syrup, of grilled peppers and crushed mint and sharp, sweet steam curling from hidden vents. Beneath it all lingered the bite of iron pipes and old copper, of the city itself breathing beneath their feet. And Caitlyn, in her soft linen shirt and worn-in boots, with her sleeves pushed up and her hair left down just because Vi liked it, breathed it in like it was the first real night of summer.
They walked together hand in hand, their fingers laced lazily, swinging just slightly between them as they wove through the crowd. Vi had outright refused to let them eat dinner at home.
“You’ll thank me,” she’d said, smug, tugging Caitlyn toward the tram station like she was leading her into a secret.
Now Caitlyn understood why.
The city was alive.
The festival stretched along the bridge and spilled down into the lower districts like a pulse. Lanterns floated above in a soft canopy of gold and green, trailing faintly glowing ribbons that danced in the updrafts from the vents. On every side, stalls were crammed with people—Zaunites and Piltovans alike—laughing, calling, bartering, celebrating.
For the first time in living memory, the border didn’t feel like a border. It felt like a line drawn in chalk, already fading beneath the trampling feet of joy.
Vi let go of Caitlyn’s hand only to run up to the nearest food cart. “Oho, bingo. This guy makes grilled eel bao. You trust me, right?”
Caitlyn caught up, slightly breathless from Vi’s sudden excitement. “I’ve never had grilled eel.”
Vi leaned back, grinning. “Then it’s criminal I didn’t drag you here sooner.”
They each took one—wrapped in sizzling rice paper, still steaming—and found a step to sit on. Vi watched Caitlyn with open anticipation.
Caitlyn bit in, cautious at first, then blinked.
“Oh. That’s…”
Vi raised an eyebrow.
“…Really good,” Caitlyn admitted, licking sauce from her thumb. “Spicy. But good.”
“Told you,” Vi said, already halfway through hers. “Zaun might've been a deathtrap on most days, but when it comes to food? We don’t miss.”
They stood again and kept walking. Around them, children darted past with glowsticks tied to their wrists like comets. A group of musicians set up near a pillar, one playing a bass-line on a reworked pipe organ, another looping synth over drums that rattled with real heat. People had gathered to dance, not performatively but freely.
Vi’s head bobbed to the beat. “D’you think I could convince you to dance?”
Caitlyn laughed, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. You’d lose a foot.”
“Oh, rude. I happen to have extremely coordinated rhythm.”
“Is that what you call whatever happened last time we went to a gala?”
“That was ballroom. This is freestyle. Very different art forms.”
Vi spun once, absurdly, then caught Caitlyn around the waist. Caitlyn stumbled into her, laughing, her cheeks a little pink. “Let’s not make me the reason a child gets concussed,” Caitlyn said, gently prying Vi’s arms off her hips.
Vi made a wounded noise. “You’re robbing the people of art.”
They tried sugar-glass candies shaped like feathered moths, warm from the molds. Vi burned her tongue and cursed so colorfully a nearby elder gasped. Caitlyn laughed until she wheezed, tears in her eyes. They shared a single paper cone of deep-fried, syrup-drizzled spirals that made Caitlyn’s teeth ache, and when Vi tried to steal a second piece, Caitlyn slapped her hand away and said, “Get your own.” Vi retaliated by licking powdered sugar off her own fingers and making a show of groaning like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
Caitlyn, flustered but secretly delighted, muttered something about “no shame whatsoever.”
At one booth,a vendor offered free glowing rings, light-thread woven into soft material you could wear around your wrist or ankle or neck. Vi picked one that matched Caitlyn’s eyes exactly and gently slid it onto her wrist.
“For my bodyguard,” she said with mock-seriousness.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “I’m off duty.”
Vi smirked. “Exactly. So you’ve got time to let me impress you.”
And she did, at a game stand not far down the lane. The booth was handmade, metal rods welded into a crooked frame, with targets that whirred to life when you flipped a switch. Vi cracked her knuckles and elbowed Caitlyn playfully.
“Five shots. Watch and learn.”
Caitlyn crossed her arms. “If you lose, I get to pick where we eat dessert.”
Vi paused. “If I win?”
“You still don’t get to pick dessert.”
Vi groaned. “This is a rigged game.”
She still took the shots, metal slugs fired from a compressed air pistol with remarkable flair and missed only one.
The booth attendant handed her a small, lopsided plush.
It was a mechanical owl, its wings made of delicate brass hinges, its eyes two softly glowing crystals. Its head tilted with a gentle whirr when you nudged it. Slightly ugly and completely endearing.
Vi turned and held it out to Caitlyn, grinning like a dope. “For you.”
Caitlyn blinked. “Why would they make a mechanical owl pushie, anyway? Just make a mechanical one.”
“Maybe they are a little quirky. Like you.”
Caitlyn stared at the owl, then at Vi, then back at the owl and smiled. “It’s hideous.”
Vi pressed a hand to her heart, mock-wounded.
“I love it,” Caitlyn said softly, taking it from her. “Thank you.”
The night wore on. Lanterns floated higher into the sky, glowing like stars that had decided to come a little closer. Music followed them wherever they walked, never too loud, always pulsing somewhere at the edges of their awareness. Laughter echoed from alleyways and open spaces alike. Fireworks boomed in the distance, waiting for their cue.
The Ferris wheel loomed over the festival like a crown, its frame lit with shifting streams of neon blue and warm gold. Each passenger cart was ringed with lanterns that pulsed in soft rhythm, like glowing heartbeats rising slowly into the sky. It wasn’t enormous, certainly not the kind of showy thing Piltover engineers might design but it had charm. You could see its joints and rivets, the weld lines from careful Zaunite hands, the patches of mismatched paint. It was something built, not manufactured.
Vi looked up at it with unmistakable fondness.
Caitlyn, on the other hand, looked at it like it might fall on her.
“We could just look at it,” she offered, arms folded, her body angled suspiciously toward the exit path like she was ready to bolt. “It’s quite aesthetically pleasing from down here.”
Vi snorted. “Cait, it’s a Ferris wheel, not a death sentence.”
“It’s moving in the air.”
“It’s barely moving. C’mon, live a little.”
“I’ve seen the safety standards on most temporary structures in Zaun—”
“And you’ve survived falling off buildings, so I think we’ll be fine.”
Vi turned to face her fully, hands slipping down to Caitlyn’s waist, thumbs hooking into her belt loops.
“Besides,” she added, “I’ll be there. You trust me, right?”
Caitlyn stared at her then sighed, defeated. “…That’s not fair.”
Vi grinned. “I know.”
They climbed in slowly, the cart swinging with their weight. Caitlyn gripped the bar immediately, knuckles white, jaw set. Vi lounged like she was sunbathing, one leg propped on the edge, looking way too relaxed. The ride jerked once. Caitlyn made a small, sharp sound in her throat. Vi immediately sat up straight. “Okay, okay, that was... more swingy than I expected.”
“You said it was slow.”
“I lied for a noble cause.”
Their cart began its climb. Around them, the festival dropped away in layers. Lights becoming strings of stars, the sound turning from bustling chaos to a kind of background hum… Caitlyn's hand found Vi's wrist unconsciously.
“You okay?” Vi asked, voice gentler now.
Caitlyn didn’t look away from the horizon, but her grip eased slightly.
“It’s not the height,” she murmured. “It’s the... motion. The tilt. It feels like it might fall.”
Vi nodded, quiet for a beat. Then: “You know what helped me, when I was little? When things got scary?”
Caitlyn glanced at her sideways.
Vi tapped her chest. “Breathe in, then out. Focus on your heartbeat. Just that. Everything else goes quiet.”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “And that worked?”
“Sometimes. Other times I just screamed into a pillow and kicked a wall, but we’re in public, so I figured we’d start with breathing.”
Caitlyn huffed a small, reluctant laugh. She did it anyway; breathed in, slowly. Then out. And again. The city spread out below them now, rivers of light winding between shadowed buildings, colors melting together like oil on water. She felt Vi’s presence beside her, warm and steady and annoyingly confident and the panic began to unknot.
Vi, noticing her shoulders relax, smiled.
“Look,” she said softly, pointing. “You can see the ships off the bay.”
Caitlyn followed her finger. Past the rooftops, past the hanging vines on the edge of the buildings, the water glittered under moonlight and festival flare. A cargo ship moved slow and steady in the distance, blinking lights reflected in gentle ripples.
It was… beautiful.
The cart swayed again, but this time Caitlyn didn’t flinch.
Vi turned to her. “You’re a damn good sport.”
Caitlyn shrugged, still watching the city. “I’m being blackmailed by a charming criminal. What choice do I have?”
Vi leaned in, close enough for Caitlyn to feel her breath. “You think I’m charming?”
“You think you’re charming.”
Vi beamed. “You’re not denying it though.”
Their banter faded as the ride reached its highest point. For a moment, they were suspended above it all. The wind tugged at Caitlyn’s hair. Vi watched her silently, her grin softening into something quieter. Not quite a smile. Something more like reverence.
Caitlyn turned her head slightly, their eyes meeting and just for a heartbeat, it felt like the wheel had stopped turning.
But then, the cart tilted gently forward and they began to descend again.
Neither of them spoke until their feet were back on the ground.
And when they stepped away, Caitlyn glanced once over her shoulder.
“…It wasn’t awful,” she admitted.
Vi blinked, then grinned wide. “That’s the highest praise you’ve ever given anything spontaneous.”
“I reserve my praise for things that don’t almost kill me.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“You nearly fainted the first time we tried hunting together.”
“I was pacing myself.”
They laughed again, soft and close, then wandered toward the food stalls once more, side by side.
The ice cream stand wasn’t really a stand, more a cart retrofitted from an old inspection pod, polished to a soft gleam and painted with stripes of lemon yellow and mint. A generator hummed quietly behind it, keeping the frost running, and rows of strange flavors were written on a glowing board above the vendor’s head.
Vi pressed her face close to the glass, nose practically fogging it. “Oho. They’ve got boiled plum.”
Caitlyn squinted. “That doesn’t sound edible.”
“Neither does salted soot honey, but I’m gonna try it.”
The vendor handed her a small taster spoon. Vi popped it in her mouth, blinked, and said, “Okay, that’s weirdly amazing.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “You have the palette of an alley raccoon.”
“Thank you,” Vi said sincerely.
They tried several flavors; Vi grinning the whole time, Caitlyn with an expression that hovered between polite horror and reluctant amusement. Eventually, they settled on one flavor each… and one to share.
Vi held up a cup with twin scoops. “Cardamom rose and lemon cream. Look at us. We’re so in sync.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Only because you wore me down.”
They took their ice creams and wandered through the thinning festival crowd. The music had softened, growing hazy and slow, replaced by the pop and crackle of fireworks warming up for the main show. They followed the sound of water and moved toward the shore, the boardwalk flickering with dim festival lanterns.
The lights of Piltover shimmered faintly in the distance, reflected in the surface of the bay. A breeze carried the faint scent of sugar and smoke.
Vi spotted a large fallen log just off the paved path, half-buried in sand and sea grass. She tugged Caitlyn gently toward it.
“Perfect spot,” she said, plopping down and patting the space beside her.
Caitlyn hesitated, just long enough to fuss with her clothes, then settled beside her. Their shoulders bumped. The log was still warm from the day's sun, dry and worn smooth by time.
They sat quietly for a while, listening to the waves lap gently against the shore, the occasional shout of laughter behind them from the festival’s edge, the murmur of fireworks waiting for ignition.
Vi scooped a bit of the shared ice cream and offered it to Caitlyn wordlessly. Caitlyn took it, lips brushing the spoon. She hummed her approval, then nudged Vi’s knee with her own.
“I like this,” she said.
Vi leaned back on her hands, tilting her head to look at her. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn nodded, still looking out at the water. “It’s… easy. It doesn’t feel like a rush.”
Vi was quiet for a beat, then: “It never was with you.”
Caitlyn turned to look at her.
The shared ice cream sat between them, melting slowly. The lights sparkled on the water. And the night was just beginning to stretch into its brightest part.
They stayed on the log long after the ice cream was gone, legs swinging idly over the edge, Vi tossing smooth pebbles into the water while Caitlyn leaned back on her hands and tilted her face toward the sky. The horizon had dimmed to deep indigo. Only the last faint ribbons of moon lingered, dusty pinks and oranges already gave way to a night brimming with stars and city light. The festival behind them hummed with distant joy. From here, it all felt far away, like a memory still being written.
Caitlyn shifted slightly, letting her shoulder rest against Vi’s.
“Do you hear that?” Vi murmured.
Caitlyn tilted her head. “What?”
“Exactly.” Vi smiled, eyes still skyward. “It’s quiet.”
Cait chuckled. “Can’t believe you’re the one enjoying quiet now.”
“I like it when it’s with you.”
Vi glanced at her, and for a moment she didn’t say anything. She just looked at Caitlyn’s profile in the dark. The way her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips curved slightly, as if even resting was another form of thought.
“You’re really beautiful, y’know,” Vi said.
Caitlyn turned, eyebrows raised slightly, as if she’d been caught off guard. “That so?”
“Mm-hmm. Especially when you’re not trying to be.”
Caitlyn laughed once, quiet and a little breathless. “You’re just saying that because I let you have most of the lemon cream.”
“Maybe,” Vi said, shrugging. “But I’d still say it if you hadn’t.”
The first firework went off just then, sudden and bright, bursting into gold right above the bay.
Caitlyn startled slightly. Vi instinctively reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Forgot about those,” Caitlyn admitted.
“I didn’t,” Vi said, squeezing her hand again. “They always save the big ones for last.”
More followed; blues, purples, pinks… each bloom lighting up the sky and painting the surface of the water in shimmering reflections. The bursts echoed through the night like soft thunder, never quite drowning out the faraway music but blending with it, like the world had found a rhythm too big to keep quiet.
They both looked up, quiet, watching.
Then Vi shifted, just a little, to face Caitlyn. Her heart felt full and unguarded, the way it only did when the world was soft around the edges.
“Hey,” she said, barely audible above the fireworks. Caitlyn turned toward her, eyes shining from the light above them.
“I know it was your first time here,” Vi said, voice low.
Caitlyn’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. The silence between them stretched and softened.
Vi leaned in, slow, careful, the way you might reach for something precious you don’t want to break. Her hand rose to Caitlyn’s cheek, thumb brushing gently along the bone. Caitlyn didn’t move away. Her breath caught just slightly. Vi got within an inch. And then—
BOOM.
A huge firework exploded right above them, white-gold and searing bright, followed by a crack so loud the log shook. Both of them flinched.
Vi pulled back immediately, blinking spots out of her eyes. “Shit.”
Caitlyn burst out laughing, head tilting forward into Vi’s shoulder. “Of course.”
Vi groaned, throwing her head back. “That was the moment, Cait. That was it. The universe ripped it from me.”
“Oh no,” Caitlyn said between giggles, “a delayed kiss. How tragic.”
Vi narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
“You’re impossible.”
Caitlyn leaned back, one hand still braced against Vi’s chest from laughing, the other reaching up to tuck Vi’s hair behind her ear.
“Vi,” she said, soft now. “Stop talking.”
And then she kissed her.
No fireworks this time. No grand swell of music or crowd cheering in the background.
Just them.
Just warmth and closeness, a slow unfolding that felt like something they’d been carrying between them for weeks, months, maybe longer. Caitlyn’s hand slid to Vi’s jaw. Vi’s arm curved around her waist and tugged her closer, and the kiss deepened just enough to steal a breath. Enough to make Vi forget anything but this.
When they finally parted, Caitlyn’s forehead rested against Vi’s, both of them smiling like idiots.
“You always do that,” Vi murmured.
“Do what?”
“Wait ‘til I’m off balance. Then sweep in and ruin me.”
Caitlyn smiled. “You were talking too much.”
Vi laughed, shaking her head, eyes still closed. They leaned back again, Caitlyn curling into Vi’s side, Vi’s arm draped loosely around her. Another firework lit up the sky—this time distant, quieter—and they both watched its afterglow dissolve into stars.
“You know what I’m thinking about?” Vi said after a while.
“Hm?”
“That kid. Alden’s granddaughter.”
Caitlyn tilted her head. “What about her?”
“She’s gonna remember this. Her first festival. She’s gonna remember how bright it was, how it smelled, how she felt... She’s gonna carry it with her.”
Caitlyn was quiet for a moment. Then she whispered, “So will I.”
Vi looked down at her. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn met her gaze. “You made tonight feel like it was mine, too.”
Vi didn’t answer. She just pulled her a little closer.
The festival was fading now behind them, music drifting into memory, lights flickering down one by one.
But here, on this log, by the water, under the stars and the echo of fireworks…
The night was still glowing.
The Kiramman estate kitchen smelled like cinnamon, cardamom, and something gently toasting. Vi leaned against the edge of a marble counter that probably cost more than her entire childhood block, an apple in one hand, the other casually flicking a knife she’d borrowed from a chopping board beside her. The apple was already half gone, sliced with idle precision and piece by piece disappearing between bites as she talked.
“So wait, he actually slipped on a waxed floor and knocked over the entire dessert cart?”
Mira, one of the older housemaids, nodded with a dignified seriousness that barely masked her amusement. “Your wording is crude, dear, but yes. Head over heels. Raspberry mousse everywhere.”
Vi barked out a laugh and nearly choked on her apple. “Please tell me someone got that on the security crystals.”
“There are strict no-recording policies in estate halls,” said a younger maid quickly, like she was used to saying it. Then, quieter: “But enough people witnessed.”
Vi grinned. Mira gave her a wink.
Across the kitchen, one of the butlers—Mr. Alden, grayed at the temples but still moving with the precision of a general—was preparing a covered tea tray. Vi had wandered in ten minutes ago under the pretense of "checking on Cait's snacks" but had stayed, predictably, to chatter with everyone. She was halfway through her apple now, and had managed to charm three people into telling her mildly scandalous stories about Caitlyn’s cousins.
Behind them, a kettle whistled low, then clicked off. Alden moved automatically, efficient and practiced, pouring the hot water over the loose-leaf blend in Caitlyn’s favorite porcelain pot.
“You always come in here to wait when she asks for tea,” Mira said, folding a dishcloth with the kind of loving familiarity that made it more ritual than chore.
Vi shrugged. “She likes the pink cups. Someone’s gotta make sure she gets the pink cups.”
There was a beat of quiet. Just warm, comfortable silence among people who had known each other long enough to appreciate it. Vi glanced toward the hallway, where Caitlyn was somewhere in the sitting room, waiting for her. Probably reading. Probably already halfway into work mode despite it being her day off. Vi smiled to herself.
Then Alden straightened slightly and cleared his throat.
“Permission to take early leave today,” he said, mostly to Mira but loud enough for the room to hear, “granted by Miss Caitlyn herself. My granddaughter’s visiting for the week. Thought I’d take her to the festival.”
Vi blinked. “There’s a festival today?”
“The Summer Crossing,” Alden replied. “First time in, what, thirty years? They're holding it in both Zaun and Piltover. Joint celebration. The Council’s been working on the logistics for months.”
“They finally pulled it off?” Vi said, her tone shifting from curiosity to quiet awe. “Damn.”
Mira nodded. “Brick by brick, dear. It’s slow, but it’s happening. This kind of peace… we never thought we’d live to see it.”
Vi’s fingers tapped against her apple core thoughtfully.
She remembered Zaun’s summer festivals when she was little. Nothing fancy, just flickering paper lanterns strung between support beams, sticky-fingered kids chasing each other through smoke and steam, music thumping from homemade speakers. Half the games didn’t work properly and the food was always greasy but gods, it meant something. For one night, things didn’t feel so heavy. Even Silco used to tell his goons to stay low, to behave that day. It had been a long time since she’d seen anything like that.
She bit another piece off the apple and said casually, “Hey, uh… Did Caitlyn ever go to those festivals? Y’know, when she was a kid?”
The question didn’t surprise anyone. Vi asked about Caitlyn all the time. It was half-charming, half-endearing and completely obvious how much she cared. At this point, the staff didn’t even blink at it.
Alden paused in adjusting the tea tray. “No,” he said after a moment. “She wanted to, badly. Especially when she was young.”
Mira made a soft, almost maternal sound.
“Lady Cassandra and Lord Tobias were rarely available in summer,” Alden continued. “And Master Jayce was often buried in council work or engineering logistics. She didn’t have anyone to take her.”
Vi’s brow furrowed.
“She asked for a few years,” he went on. “But she learned quickly not to expect much. Eventually she stopped asking altogether.”
The kitchen had gone quiet. The kind that sits low and heavy, like dust after something breaks. Vi chewed slowly, gaze dropping to the polished countertop.
She’d lost her parents. Everything went to hell, yeah. But back then, she'd still had Powder, Claggor, Mylo. Vander, most importantly. Always someone around. Always someone to scrap with, to lean on, to run toward or away from. The thought of Caitlyn—tiny, quiet, probably wearing some stiff little dress in this big, echoing house—waiting by the door all day for no one to come get her… Her heart gave an uninvited ache.
She swallowed and cleared her throat, her voice softer. “Thanks for tellin’ me.”
Alden gave her a small nod. There was nothing in his expression but honesty. He knew she’d use the information with care. She always did. Before the mood could sink deeper, Mira clapped her hands together gently. “Well. That’s enough nostalgia. Vi, darling, the tea and appetizers are ready. Pink cup included.”
Vi’s smile came back slowly, tugging at the corner of her mouth. “You’re a miracle worker, Mira.”
She set her apple core down on a napkin, took the tray carefully in both hands and turned toward the door.
Caitlyn’s tea, sweet and floral, a tiny plate of her favorite seeded crackers and soft cheese, and a pair of fluffy steamed buns for Vi herself, because Mira swore she looked too thin lately. “Enjoy your break, Alden,” she said. “Tell your granddaughter she’s got the best damn grandpa in both cities.”
The butler inclined his head, just enough to hide the pleased twitch of his lips.
Vi stepped out of the kitchen with a lightness in her step that hadn’t been there before. Because now, she had a new plan.
And it started with a tray of tea, and her girl waiting for her in the other room.
☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ
The door swung open with the soft creak of polished brass hinges, and Vi stepped into the sun-drenched living room, balancing the tea tray like it was a priceless artifact. Afternoon light filtered through the sheer curtains, casting lace-edged shadows across the parquet floors and overstuffed furniture. Everything smelled faintly of lavender, old books, and distant city blooms from the window boxes just beyond the balcony doors.
Caitlyn was curled up on the divan by the fireplace, one leg tucked beneath her, the other stretched out lazily. A paperback rested in her lap, its pages half-open and half-forgotten as she tilted her head toward the window, soaking in the golden light. Her hair was loose, Vi always liked it like that, and her shirt was soft and wrinkled from lounging, sleeves rolled to her elbows.
“Delivery,” Vi called softly, like her voice might disturb the quiet magic of the afternoon.
Caitlyn looked over, and her face lit up in that subtle, Caitlyn-way; eyebrows lifted just a little, the corner of her mouth curling like it couldn't help itself.
“And here I was thinking you only went to the kitchen to flirt with Mira again,” she said.
Vi snorted. “Can you blame me? She's the only one who gives me the good gossip.”
“Mm. I’m sure that’s all she gives you.”
“Jealous, Sheriff?” Vi teased, crossing the room with easy steps, tray steady in her hands.
Caitlyn didn’t answer. She just patted the space beside her on the divan without looking away, which Vi took as both invitation and challenge.
“Coming right up, your honor,” Vi murmured as she settled down beside Cait, tray in her lap. She handed over the delicate teacup like it might shatter under the weight of her fingers.
Caitlyn took it with practiced grace. Their hands brushed. Neither of them pulled away.
“You remembered the pink cup,” Caitlyn said, almost to herself.
Vi smiled, crooked and fond. “Told you. Someone’s gotta.”
They sat like that for a while, no rush in either of them. The only sounds were the rustling leaves outside the balcony and the occasional whistle of a distant bird. Time slowed, thick like honey, stretching gently around them. Vi leaned her shoulder against Caitlyn’s. Caitlyn didn’t move, their ankles tangled together loosely without thought.
Caitlyn sipped her tea. Vi tore apart one of her steamed buns and popped half into her mouth. When Caitlyn glanced sideways, Vi just smirked and reached over to dab at a smear of sauce on Cait’s lower lip with her thumb, wiping it off with exaggerated care.
Caitlyn caught her hand before it could pull back. She opened her mouth to guide the fingers inside before kissing them clean. Vi felt something flutter in her chest like it always did when Caitlyn did that. Something stupid and young and full of awe.
“You’re disgustingly soft lately,” Caitlyn said, not letting go of her hand.
“Can you blame me?” Vi echoed her from earlier. “Look who I’ve got to be soft for.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes but couldn’t quite smother her smile. Her thumb rubbed slow circles against Vi’s palm. Another minute passed, soft and quiet. Then Vi shifted a little, just enough to catch Caitlyn’s gaze more directly.
“Hey, so… Alden’s taking leave today,” she said, trying for casual. “Said you gave him permission.”
Caitlyn nodded, lifting her cup again. “Mhm. His granddaughter’s visiting. Sweet girl.”
“Yeah,” Vi said, echoing again. “Said he’s takin’ her to the festival.”
Caitlyn hummed into her tea, eyes on the window now. “Lucky girl,” she said, almost wistful. “He’ll spoil her rotten. He’s quite fond of her.”
Vi chuckled. “Said the same thing about you.”
Caitlyn arched an eyebrow. “About me?”
“Heard you’re very sweet on me, and me on you.”
Caitlyn blinked. Then gave her the driest deadpan expression imaginable. “Is that so.”
“Don’t deny it,” Vi said, bumping her shoulder again. “You made Mira give me double buns last week. That’s love.”
Caitlyn shook her head, amused. Her tea rippled in her cup from her laughter, Vi let the laughter settle, let the quiet return. Then, with a softness she reserved for almost no one else in the world, she asked:
“You wanna?”
Caitlyn turned her head. “I want to… what?”
Vi hesitated, then shrugged one shoulder. “Go to the festival. With me.”
For a second, Caitlyn didn’t answer. She just looked at Vi, studying her like she was reading something unspoken between the lines of a page.
It wasn’t that she didn’t want to go. It was that no one had ever really asked her before.
“Is that something you’d like to do?” Said Caitlyn, after a pause.
Vi caught the pause. She softened her voice even more. “If it’s with you,” she said, “then, yeah. I want to.”
Caitlyn’s gaze flickered to the cup in her hands, then back up. Something in her chest shifted; something quiet, deep, and old. Some corner of that young girl who once stood by the front door in a pretty dress that no one ever complimented, waiting for someone to swoop her up and towards to fun…
Vi was here now. Vi was asking.
Caitlyn set her cup down, deliberate and slow. She leaned in, just enough that her forehead brushed Vi’s temple. “Okay,” she said, her voice warm. “Let’s go to the festival.”
Vi turned toward her, smiling like the sun had settled in her chest.
“You’re gonna love it,” she murmured. “Lights, music, probably some terrible fried food…”
“If you make me eat funnel cake from a Zaunite street vendor, I swear—”
“Too late, already planning it.”
Caitlyn kissed her then, quiet and sure.
☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ☆ミ
The first thing Caitlyn noticed was the scent.
Zaun festivals didn’t smell like Piltover’s streets; no rosewater mist or chilled wine, no powdered sugar or slow-roasted almonds. This was something else entirely. It smelled like hot oil and spiced meat, of fried dough and syrup, of grilled peppers and crushed mint and sharp, sweet steam curling from hidden vents. Beneath it all lingered the bite of iron pipes and old copper, of the city itself breathing beneath their feet. And Caitlyn, in her soft linen shirt and worn-in boots, with her sleeves pushed up and her hair left down just because Vi liked it, breathed it in like it was the first real night of summer.
They walked together hand in hand, their fingers laced lazily, swinging just slightly between them as they wove through the crowd. Vi had outright refused to let them eat dinner at home.
“You’ll thank me,” she’d said, smug, tugging Caitlyn toward the tram station like she was leading her into a secret.
Now Caitlyn understood why.
The city was alive.
The festival stretched along the bridge and spilled down into the lower districts like a pulse. Lanterns floated above in a soft canopy of gold and green, trailing faintly glowing ribbons that danced in the updrafts from the vents. On every side, stalls were crammed with people—Zaunites and Piltovans alike—laughing, calling, bartering, celebrating.
For the first time in living memory, the border didn’t feel like a border. It felt like a line drawn in chalk, already fading beneath the trampling feet of joy.
Vi let go of Caitlyn’s hand only to run up to the nearest food cart. “Oho, bingo. This guy makes grilled eel bao. You trust me, right?”
Caitlyn caught up, slightly breathless from Vi’s sudden excitement. “I’ve never had grilled eel.”
Vi leaned back, grinning. “Then it’s criminal I didn’t drag you here sooner.”
They each took one—wrapped in sizzling rice paper, still steaming—and found a step to sit on. Vi watched Caitlyn with open anticipation.
Caitlyn bit in, cautious at first, then blinked.
“Oh. That’s…”
Vi raised an eyebrow.
“…Really good,” Caitlyn admitted, licking sauce from her thumb. “Spicy. But good.”
“Told you,” Vi said, already halfway through hers. “Zaun might've been a deathtrap on most days, but when it comes to food? We don’t miss.”
They stood again and kept walking. Around them, children darted past with glowsticks tied to their wrists like comets. A group of musicians set up near a pillar, one playing a bass-line on a reworked pipe organ, another looping synth over drums that rattled with real heat. People had gathered to dance, not performatively but freely.
Vi’s head bobbed to the beat. “D’you think I could convince you to dance?”
Caitlyn laughed, shaking her head. “Absolutely not. You’d lose a foot.”
“Oh, rude. I happen to have extremely coordinated rhythm.”
“Is that what you call whatever happened last time we went to a gala?”
“That was ballroom. This is freestyle. Very different art forms.”
Vi spun once, absurdly, then caught Caitlyn around the waist. Caitlyn stumbled into her, laughing, her cheeks a little pink. “Let’s not make me the reason a child gets concussed,” Caitlyn said, gently prying Vi’s arms off her hips.
Vi made a wounded noise. “You’re robbing the people of art.”
They tried sugar-glass candies shaped like feathered moths, warm from the molds. Vi burned her tongue and cursed so colorfully a nearby elder gasped. Caitlyn laughed until she wheezed, tears in her eyes. They shared a single paper cone of deep-fried, syrup-drizzled spirals that made Caitlyn’s teeth ache, and when Vi tried to steal a second piece, Caitlyn slapped her hand away and said, “Get your own.” Vi retaliated by licking powdered sugar off her own fingers and making a show of groaning like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.
Caitlyn, flustered but secretly delighted, muttered something about “no shame whatsoever.”
At one booth,a vendor offered free glowing rings, light-thread woven into soft material you could wear around your wrist or ankle or neck. Vi picked one that matched Caitlyn’s eyes exactly and gently slid it onto her wrist.
“For my bodyguard,” she said with mock-seriousness.
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “I’m off duty.”
Vi smirked. “Exactly. So you’ve got time to let me impress you.”
And she did, at a game stand not far down the lane. The booth was handmade, metal rods welded into a crooked frame, with targets that whirred to life when you flipped a switch. Vi cracked her knuckles and elbowed Caitlyn playfully.
“Five shots. Watch and learn.”
Caitlyn crossed her arms. “If you lose, I get to pick where we eat dessert.”
Vi paused. “If I win?”
“You still don’t get to pick dessert.”
Vi groaned. “This is a rigged game.”
She still took the shots, metal slugs fired from a compressed air pistol with remarkable flair and missed only one.
The booth attendant handed her a small, lopsided plush.
It was a mechanical owl, its wings made of delicate brass hinges, its eyes two softly glowing crystals. Its head tilted with a gentle whirr when you nudged it. Slightly ugly and completely endearing.
Vi turned and held it out to Caitlyn, grinning like a dope. “For you.”
Caitlyn blinked. “Why would they make a mechanical owl pushie, anyway? Just make a mechanical one.”
“Maybe they are a little quirky. Like you.”
Caitlyn stared at the owl, then at Vi, then back at the owl and smiled. “It’s hideous.”
Vi pressed a hand to her heart, mock-wounded.
“I love it,” Caitlyn said softly, taking it from her. “Thank you.”
The night wore on. Lanterns floated higher into the sky, glowing like stars that had decided to come a little closer. Music followed them wherever they walked, never too loud, always pulsing somewhere at the edges of their awareness. Laughter echoed from alleyways and open spaces alike. Fireworks boomed in the distance, waiting for their cue.
The Ferris wheel loomed over the festival like a crown, its frame lit with shifting streams of neon blue and warm gold. Each passenger cart was ringed with lanterns that pulsed in soft rhythm, like glowing heartbeats rising slowly into the sky. It wasn’t enormous, certainly not the kind of showy thing Piltover engineers might design but it had charm. You could see its joints and rivets, the weld lines from careful Zaunite hands, the patches of mismatched paint. It was something built, not manufactured.
Vi looked up at it with unmistakable fondness.
Caitlyn, on the other hand, looked at it like it might fall on her.
“We could just look at it,” she offered, arms folded, her body angled suspiciously toward the exit path like she was ready to bolt. “It’s quite aesthetically pleasing from down here.”
Vi snorted. “Cait, it’s a Ferris wheel, not a death sentence.”
“It’s moving in the air.”
“It’s barely moving. C’mon, live a little.”
“I’ve seen the safety standards on most temporary structures in Zaun—”
“And you’ve survived falling off buildings, so I think we’ll be fine.”
Vi turned to face her fully, hands slipping down to Caitlyn’s waist, thumbs hooking into her belt loops.
“Besides,” she added, “I’ll be there. You trust me, right?”
Caitlyn stared at her then sighed, defeated. “…That’s not fair.”
Vi grinned. “I know.”
They climbed in slowly, the cart swinging with their weight. Caitlyn gripped the bar immediately, knuckles white, jaw set. Vi lounged like she was sunbathing, one leg propped on the edge, looking way too relaxed. The ride jerked once. Caitlyn made a small, sharp sound in her throat. Vi immediately sat up straight. “Okay, okay, that was... more swingy than I expected.”
“You said it was slow.”
“I lied for a noble cause.”
Their cart began its climb. Around them, the festival dropped away in layers. Lights becoming strings of stars, the sound turning from bustling chaos to a kind of background hum… Caitlyn's hand found Vi's wrist unconsciously.
“You okay?” Vi asked, voice gentler now.
Caitlyn didn’t look away from the horizon, but her grip eased slightly.
“It’s not the height,” she murmured. “It’s the... motion. The tilt. It feels like it might fall.”
Vi nodded, quiet for a beat. Then: “You know what helped me, when I was little? When things got scary?”
Caitlyn glanced at her sideways.
Vi tapped her chest. “Breathe in, then out. Focus on your heartbeat. Just that. Everything else goes quiet.”
Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “And that worked?”
“Sometimes. Other times I just screamed into a pillow and kicked a wall, but we’re in public, so I figured we’d start with breathing.”
Caitlyn huffed a small, reluctant laugh. She did it anyway; breathed in, slowly. Then out. And again. The city spread out below them now, rivers of light winding between shadowed buildings, colors melting together like oil on water. She felt Vi’s presence beside her, warm and steady and annoyingly confident and the panic began to unknot.
Vi, noticing her shoulders relax, smiled.
“Look,” she said softly, pointing. “You can see the ships off the bay.”
Caitlyn followed her finger. Past the rooftops, past the hanging vines on the edge of the buildings, the water glittered under moonlight and festival flare. A cargo ship moved slow and steady in the distance, blinking lights reflected in gentle ripples.
It was… beautiful.
The cart swayed again, but this time Caitlyn didn’t flinch.
Vi turned to her. “You’re a damn good sport.”
Caitlyn shrugged, still watching the city. “I’m being blackmailed by a charming criminal. What choice do I have?”
Vi leaned in, close enough for Caitlyn to feel her breath. “You think I’m charming?”
“You think you’re charming.”
Vi beamed. “You’re not denying it though.”
Their banter faded as the ride reached its highest point. For a moment, they were suspended above it all. The wind tugged at Caitlyn’s hair. Vi watched her silently, her grin softening into something quieter. Not quite a smile. Something more like reverence.
Caitlyn turned her head slightly, their eyes meeting and just for a heartbeat, it felt like the wheel had stopped turning.
But then, the cart tilted gently forward and they began to descend again.
Neither of them spoke until their feet were back on the ground.
And when they stepped away, Caitlyn glanced once over her shoulder.
“…It wasn’t awful,” she admitted.
Vi blinked, then grinned wide. “That’s the highest praise you’ve ever given anything spontaneous.”
“I reserve my praise for things that don’t almost kill me.”
“Now you’re just being dramatic.”
“You nearly fainted the first time we tried hunting together.”
“I was pacing myself.”
They laughed again, soft and close, then wandered toward the food stalls once more, side by side.
The ice cream stand wasn’t really a stand, more a cart retrofitted from an old inspection pod, polished to a soft gleam and painted with stripes of lemon yellow and mint. A generator hummed quietly behind it, keeping the frost running, and rows of strange flavors were written on a glowing board above the vendor’s head.
Vi pressed her face close to the glass, nose practically fogging it. “Oho. They’ve got boiled plum.”
Caitlyn squinted. “That doesn’t sound edible.”
“Neither does salted soot honey, but I’m gonna try it.”
The vendor handed her a small taster spoon. Vi popped it in her mouth, blinked, and said, “Okay, that’s weirdly amazing.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes. “You have the palette of an alley raccoon.”
“Thank you,” Vi said sincerely.
They tried several flavors; Vi grinning the whole time, Caitlyn with an expression that hovered between polite horror and reluctant amusement. Eventually, they settled on one flavor each… and one to share.
Vi held up a cup with twin scoops. “Cardamom rose and lemon cream. Look at us. We’re so in sync.”
Caitlyn rolled her eyes, but her smile betrayed her. “Only because you wore me down.”
They took their ice creams and wandered through the thinning festival crowd. The music had softened, growing hazy and slow, replaced by the pop and crackle of fireworks warming up for the main show. They followed the sound of water and moved toward the shore, the boardwalk flickering with dim festival lanterns.
The lights of Piltover shimmered faintly in the distance, reflected in the surface of the bay. A breeze carried the faint scent of sugar and smoke.
Vi spotted a large fallen log just off the paved path, half-buried in sand and sea grass. She tugged Caitlyn gently toward it.
“Perfect spot,” she said, plopping down and patting the space beside her.
Caitlyn hesitated, just long enough to fuss with her clothes, then settled beside her. Their shoulders bumped. The log was still warm from the day's sun, dry and worn smooth by time.
They sat quietly for a while, listening to the waves lap gently against the shore, the occasional shout of laughter behind them from the festival’s edge, the murmur of fireworks waiting for ignition.
Vi scooped a bit of the shared ice cream and offered it to Caitlyn wordlessly. Caitlyn took it, lips brushing the spoon. She hummed her approval, then nudged Vi’s knee with her own.
“I like this,” she said.
Vi leaned back on her hands, tilting her head to look at her. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn nodded, still looking out at the water. “It’s… easy. It doesn’t feel like a rush.”
Vi was quiet for a beat, then: “It never was with you.”
Caitlyn turned to look at her.
The shared ice cream sat between them, melting slowly. The lights sparkled on the water. And the night was just beginning to stretch into its brightest part.
They stayed on the log long after the ice cream was gone, legs swinging idly over the edge, Vi tossing smooth pebbles into the water while Caitlyn leaned back on her hands and tilted her face toward the sky. The horizon had dimmed to deep indigo. Only the last faint ribbons of moon lingered, dusty pinks and oranges already gave way to a night brimming with stars and city light. The festival behind them hummed with distant joy. From here, it all felt far away, like a memory still being written.
Caitlyn shifted slightly, letting her shoulder rest against Vi’s.
“Do you hear that?” Vi murmured.
Caitlyn tilted her head. “What?”
“Exactly.” Vi smiled, eyes still skyward. “It’s quiet.”
Cait chuckled. “Can’t believe you’re the one enjoying quiet now.”
“I like it when it’s with you.”
Vi glanced at her, and for a moment she didn’t say anything. She just looked at Caitlyn’s profile in the dark. The way her lashes cast soft shadows on her cheeks, the way her lips curved slightly, as if even resting was another form of thought.
“You’re really beautiful, y’know,” Vi said.
Caitlyn turned, eyebrows raised slightly, as if she’d been caught off guard. “That so?”
“Mm-hmm. Especially when you’re not trying to be.”
Caitlyn laughed once, quiet and a little breathless. “You’re just saying that because I let you have most of the lemon cream.”
“Maybe,” Vi said, shrugging. “But I’d still say it if you hadn’t.”
The first firework went off just then, sudden and bright, bursting into gold right above the bay.
Caitlyn startled slightly. Vi instinctively reached for her hand and gave it a quick squeeze.
“Forgot about those,” Caitlyn admitted.
“I didn’t,” Vi said, squeezing her hand again. “They always save the big ones for last.”
More followed; blues, purples, pinks… each bloom lighting up the sky and painting the surface of the water in shimmering reflections. The bursts echoed through the night like soft thunder, never quite drowning out the faraway music but blending with it, like the world had found a rhythm too big to keep quiet.
They both looked up, quiet, watching.
Then Vi shifted, just a little, to face Caitlyn. Her heart felt full and unguarded, the way it only did when the world was soft around the edges.
“Hey,” she said, barely audible above the fireworks. Caitlyn turned toward her, eyes shining from the light above them.
“I know it was your first time here,” Vi said, voice low.
Caitlyn’s lips parted, but she didn’t speak. The silence between them stretched and softened.
Vi leaned in, slow, careful, the way you might reach for something precious you don’t want to break. Her hand rose to Caitlyn’s cheek, thumb brushing gently along the bone. Caitlyn didn’t move away. Her breath caught just slightly. Vi got within an inch. And then—
BOOM.
A huge firework exploded right above them, white-gold and searing bright, followed by a crack so loud the log shook. Both of them flinched.
Vi pulled back immediately, blinking spots out of her eyes. “Shit.”
Caitlyn burst out laughing, head tilting forward into Vi’s shoulder. “Of course.”
Vi groaned, throwing her head back. “That was the moment, Cait. That was it. The universe ripped it from me.”
“Oh no,” Caitlyn said between giggles, “a delayed kiss. How tragic.”
Vi narrowed her eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
“You’re impossible.”
Caitlyn leaned back, one hand still braced against Vi’s chest from laughing, the other reaching up to tuck Vi’s hair behind her ear.
“Vi,” she said, soft now. “Stop talking.”
And then she kissed her.
No fireworks this time. No grand swell of music or crowd cheering in the background.
Just them.
Just warmth and closeness, a slow unfolding that felt like something they’d been carrying between them for weeks, months, maybe longer. Caitlyn’s hand slid to Vi’s jaw. Vi’s arm curved around her waist and tugged her closer, and the kiss deepened just enough to steal a breath. Enough to make Vi forget anything but this.
When they finally parted, Caitlyn’s forehead rested against Vi’s, both of them smiling like idiots.
“You always do that,” Vi murmured.
“Do what?”
“Wait ‘til I’m off balance. Then sweep in and ruin me.”
Caitlyn smiled. “You were talking too much.”
Vi laughed, shaking her head, eyes still closed. They leaned back again, Caitlyn curling into Vi’s side, Vi’s arm draped loosely around her. Another firework lit up the sky—this time distant, quieter—and they both watched its afterglow dissolve into stars.
“You know what I’m thinking about?” Vi said after a while.
“Hm?”
“That kid. Alden’s granddaughter.”
Caitlyn tilted her head. “What about her?”
“She’s gonna remember this. Her first festival. She’s gonna remember how bright it was, how it smelled, how she felt... She’s gonna carry it with her.”
Caitlyn was quiet for a moment. Then she whispered, “So will I.”
Vi looked down at her. “Yeah?”
Caitlyn met her gaze. “You made tonight feel like it was mine, too.”
Vi didn’t answer. She just pulled her a little closer.
The festival was fading now behind them, music drifting into memory, lights flickering down one by one.
But here, on this log, by the water, under the stars and the echo of fireworks…
The night was still glowing.