Chapter Text
Jinx was already fuming by the time they hit the sidewalk.
“Fucking Ekko,” she muttered, yanking her hoodie up. “Too busy saving the goddamn world in videogames to move his ass for an actual crisis.”
Vi snorted, hands stuffed deep into her jacket. “He said he was in a ‘tournament.’”
“He’s seventeen.”
“He’s twenty.”
“Still acts like he’s seventeen.”
Vi didn’t disagree.
They cut across campus, past the back lot where two freshmen were throwing up beside a dumpster, and turned toward the massive fraternity house on West side in campus—The H, everyone called it, as if throwing up overpriced vodka and generational trauma somehow built character.
“I can’t believe she went here,” Jinx said, biting her nail. “She literally texted me like—what, three hours ago? Said she wasn’t feeling good, wanted to bounce—then radio silence.”
Vi’s stomach tightened. She hadn’t said it out loud, not yet, but something about the whole thing felt… off. Lux didn’t just ghost people. Not Jinx.
Not when she sounded scared.
They were like, inseparable.
The bass from inside the house was already vibrating in her chest by the time they reached the porch. Someone had duct-taped a plastic sword to the front door. Why? Who the fuck knew.
A guy in a pastel button-up stepped in front of them.
“Private party,” he said, clearly bored. “Name?”
Vi didn’t stop walking.
“Hey, I said—”
Her shoulder caught him as she passed, solid and intentional. He stumbled back a step but didn’t press it.
Smart move.
Jinx followed behind, tossing him a wide-eyed grin. “Suckerrr.”
Inside, it was chaos.
The air was thick with sweat, cologne, and expensive booze. Neon strobes cut across the crowd like searchlights on molly. Somewhere, someone was making out against a bookshelf. Somewhere else, someone was definitely peeing in a plant.
Vi exhaled through her nose. “Alright. You take the kitchen and backyard. I’ll check the upstairs.”
They split.
Jinx shoved her way toward the back, already yelling Lux’s name. Vi moved through the crowd, ignoring the red cups shoved toward her, the guy who called her “hot pink lady,” the girl who tried to grab her hand.
She didn’t belong here. But then again, neither did Lux.
The stairs were blocked by another guy, this one less douchey, more confused. “Hey—uh, bedrooms are off-limits.”
Vi shoved past the guy guarding the stairs without slowing down.
“Move.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but she was already climbing—two steps at a time, shoulders squared, eyes scanning the crowd for any sign of Lux.
Halfway up, she caught the sharp click of heels above her—fast, impatient.
Someone was coming down.
Of course, she thought. Because it wouldn’t be a proper shitshow if the staircase wasn’t a fucking battleground too.
And then—
Bam.
The collision knocked the breath from her chest. Her hand shot out on instinct, catching the curve of a waist—tight beneath smooth, expensive fabric. Warm. Steady.
The girl inhaled sharply as their bodies crashed and stopped in tandem. The railing creaked behind her. And Vi froze—
Because, of course.
It was her.
Caitlyn fucking Kiramman.
The perfect law student.
Tall. Hair glossy and dark, that shade of blue-black that never frizzed no matter how humid it got. Legs for days beneath some kind of soft, navy skirt that should’ve been illegal on a staircase. Her mouth parted in startled annoyance, cheeks flushed and chest pressed briefly—too briefly—against Vi’s.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Cait’s hand had braced automatically on Vi’s shoulder, her other gripping the railing like a lifeline. Her brows furrowed with irritation—but something in her eyes sparked. A flicker. Quick and sharp.
Caitlyn’s perfume hit her a second later—clean, expensive, laced with something floral and stubborn as hell. She smelled like arguments and control and every bad idea Vi could’ve had in high school if she’d gone to private school and hated herself.
Cait drew a breath through her nose.
Vi caught the way her eyes flicked down—just a beat too long. Like she’d noticed the sweat-darkened tank top. The muscle. The heat. The sheer arrogance of Vi standing there, smirking, hand on her waist like she meant it.
Vi smirked harder.
Cait stepped back like she’d been burned, smoothing her clothes as she pulled away. Her hand slid off Vi’s shoulder last.
“Kiramman,” Vi said, drawling it like an insult. “With a welcoming committee like you, no wonder I don’t come to these parties.”
Cait blinked once. Her mouth twitched like she might say something meaner—but then she just sighed, almost too tired for a fight.
“Trust me,” she muttered, “I don’t want to be here either.”
They stared at each other. That same pull, taut and unspoken.
A beat too long.
A glance too low.
Vi let her eyes drag down again. Legs, waist, collarbone. Cait was all fire under control. And Vi hated—really hated—that it worked on her.
Cait shook her head like she could sense it.
“Ugh—I don’t have time for this,” she said, tired now.
Caitlyn really didn’t. Not tonight.
Because, for the love of God—what had she ever done to Vi to deserve this level of incessant hostility? Exist?
She hadn’t been anything but polite the first few times they’d crossed paths. Cordial, even. Which wasn’t easy, considering—well. Vi was… hot. Stupidly so. The first time Cait had seen her, she was walking across the quad in a black jacket, Jinx by her side, laughing like she owned the damn sidewalk. Cait’s jaw had almost hit the grass. It was the kind of beauty that knocked you sideways—not soft, but bold. Loud. Raw.
And then there was the first party.
Vi had shoved some drunk idiot who’d spilled a drink all over Cait’s silk dress—shoved him hard enough that he tripped over a speaker. She’d turned to Cait and said, “You alright?”
Those eyes—clear, intense, actually concerned.
Cait had nodded, startled but grateful. “Yes, thank you,” she’d said, warm, a little breathless, genuinely open.
But then—
The rest of her group arrived. Vi’s expression had shifted like someone flipped a switch. Cold, closed off. By the time Cait turned back around, she was gone.
After that, the names started.
Piltie. Princess.
Eye rolls across the hallway. Scoffs whenever Cait raised her hand in student council meetings.
Thinly veiled disdain, sometimes not veiled at all.
Fine. Whatever.
She was used to people making assumptions about her—her name, her voice, the circles she moved in. People thought they knew her because they knew her last name. And Cait had learned, the hard way, not to waste energy proving herself to people who already hated her on sight.
She could be ice, too.
But tonight? Tonight she’d just fought with her ex. She hadn’t gotten properly off in weeks. She was tired, irritated, and so done with whatever snarky game Vi thought they were playing.
So no. She wasn’t in the mood for Violet fucking Lanes and her passive-aggressive hero complex.
She just wanted to get downstairs, get one more drink, and go home before she said something she couldn’t take back.
She planted her hand on Vi’s bicep. Firm. Warm. Just long enough for Vi to notice how soft she felt. How her touch buzzed under her skin longer than it should’ve.
“Just—let me pass.”
She held her gaze a second too long, then brushed past, heels clicking as she vanished down the stairs.
Vi watch her go. Typical, she thought. Doesn’t even apologize. Fucking princess.
She exhaled. Shook it off.
And kept climbing.
There was a girl to find.
But the tightness in her chest didn’t go away.
Not yet.
Because the thing about Caitlyn Kiramman—the real fucking problem—was that she made Vi feel like a traitor to her own damn self.
She was everything Vi hated.
Not just because she was polished or well-dressed or walked like she’d never been told to sit down and shut up in her life.
But because she was what they had.
The Pilties.
The people who got the world handed to them on a silver plate, and complained when it wasn’t gold.
The ones who didn’t grow up breathing factory smoke or drinking rationed tap water that came out brown.
The ones who had names that opened doors and wallets and policy meetings.
Her family were politicians. Politicians.
And if there was one thing Vi knew—like knew in her bones—it was that no good ever came from people in suits making decisions for Zaun. Not after her parents.
Not after the protest.
They’d died screaming for heating supplies in winter. For insulin. For clean drinking water. And what did Piltover care about?
The bridge.
A fucking bridge.
Its marble pillars. Its cameras. Its insurance value.
She remembered reading an article that week: “Civil Unrest Puts Historic Architecture at Risk.”
Nothing about the names. The bodies. The grief.
So yeah. When Vi looked at Caitlyn Kiramman, she didn’t see a girl.
She saw the uniform. The lineage.
The type of privilege that made the world bend. That got apologies when things went slightly wrong, and unlimited grace when they fucked up badly.
Her friends were the same.
Mel Medarda with her gold jewelry and glinting watch—who once sized Ekko up like he was something wild she might feed from her palm.
Jayce Talis, the “golden boy,” too busy liking the sound of his own voice to hear when he steamrolled others.
And the whole damn campus either worshipped them or whispered about them behind their backs.
Vi hated that world.
Hated that they moved through it like it was made for them.
But more than anything?
She hated that she couldn’t stop looking at her.
That first day—she remembered it like a gut punch.
Caitlyn had walked past her and Jinx near the library steps, tall and stunning and dressed like a fucking dream. Long navy coat, boots, hair loose down her back like it belonged in a shampoo commercial.
Her waist—Jesus.
The kind of waist sculpted by angels and revenge.
Vi had actually stopped walking.
Jinx had barked out a laugh and said, “There she is—the Ice Queen herself. Fuckin’ Pilties, man.”
Vi had shoved her sunglasses higher up her nose and muttered, “Yeah. Totally.”
But she’d felt it.
Heat. Low and unwelcome.
Every time she saw Caitlyn after that, it only got worse.
The way she laughed with her friends like nothing in the world could touch her.
The way her voice dripped authority. Don’t do that. Try harder. Is that really your best?
Even the way she said Vi’s name—drawled it like a warning, like she was constantly this close to writing her off for good.
God, it pissed her off.
Because it worked.
Because every little jab Caitlyn threw made Vi want to throw one back, just to get closer.
The only way to get close and not feel like she was betraying everything she believed in…
was to hate her.
Or pretend to.
Because if she didn’t hate her—
What the hell was she supposed to do with everything else?
Fuck the Kirammans.
Fuck Piltover.
And fuck that tight navy skirt.
Vi shook her head, shoved the thoughts down.
Back to business.
There was still a girl to find.
—————-
Vi wandered through the upstairs hallway, the dull thump of bass seeping through closed doors, muffled laughter, and occasional slurred shouting creating a dissonant soundtrack to the chaos. The scent of spilled beer, sweat, and expensive cologne clung to the stale air.
Most rooms were shut tight, but Vi didn’t hesitate.
She pushed open the first door to find a guy passed out face-down on the carpet, snoring into a pool of his own drool. No sign of Lux.
The second room had two girls giggling over something on a phone, legs tangled, a haze of smoke clinging to the ceiling. One of them gave Vi a lazy thumbs-up. She backed out without a word.
The third room was empty save for the aftermath of a hookup: clothes scattered like breadcrumbs, rumpled sheets, a condom wrapper glinting under the bedside lamp.
Still no Lux.
Vi pressed her ear against the next door. Voices inside, low and steady. Locked.
Old instincts kicked in. She crouched, reached up behind the handle, and with a practiced twist of a bobby pin from her pocket—an old trick—she popped the latch.
Just two people mid-argument, startled by her sudden entrance. She muttered an apology and moved on.
Room by room, she searched—doors opened, locks picked, eyes scanned corners and beds and bathrooms.
Nothing.
“Lux?” Vi called softly between doorways, her voice bouncing off faded wallpaper. But the silence—or worse, the wrong faces—met her every time.
At one door, a skinny blonde with too much eye makeup stumbled out, arm hooked around a guy who smelled of cigarettes and desperation.
“Have you seen Lux? Blonde, kind of tall? Demacian accent?” Vi asked, keeping her voice low.
The girl blinked, confusion mixing with intoxication. “Nah, can’t say I have,” she mumbled, sinking back into the guy’s shoulder.
Vi nodded and pressed on.
Her phone buzzed—a message from Jinx.
“No one’s seen Lux in the kitchen. She was kinda trashed tho…
But you know Lux. Never been that drunk.”
Vi exhaled slowly. That didn’t sit right.
Outside on the balcony, a cluster of frat boys were gathered around Jayce and Mel. The energy was different up here—less chaos, more calculated.
Jayce was smirking, flushed from either alcohol or adrenaline, maybe both. Mel was standing beside him, arms crossed, eyes sharp but tired.
The frat bros around them hooted and laughed.
“The big hammer got the girl! Easy win, Jayce!”
“Who’s the alpha now, huh? Took her down in no time!”
Mel’s voice cut through the noise, low but clear: “You’re an idiot, Jayce. I’m leaving.”
Her tone was calm, but the frustration underneath it was like a tightly coiled spring.
Vi stepped forward, irritation simmering beneath her skin. “Hey, pretty boy. Queen of the world. Seen Lux anywhere?”
Jayce blinked, his smirk fading into something more serious. “Yeah. We… uh, we hooked up.”
The frat boys erupted in cheers and teasing.
“Jayce did the thing!”
“She’s lucky, man!”
“Bull’s got game!”
Vi’s eyebrows knitted together. She looked at Jayce, waiting for more.
“Look,” Jayce continued, a bit uncomfortable, “I tried to clear out the room… but Lux didn’t want to leave. She was grumpy, told me to fuck off. Stayed inside.”
One of the frat boys chuckled and leaned in, loud enough for Vi to hear. “Yeah, I tried to get her outta there too, but she was stubborn as hell. Locked the door on me.”
Vi frowned, crossing her arms. “So she’s still in there? Which room was it?”
Jayce shrugged, grabbing a solo cup from the railing. “Dunno if she still is. That was a while ago. My room, second door on the left at the end of the hall.”
Vi’s stomach tightened.
She’d already checked that room. Empty.
No Lux.
Vi’s gaze flicked to the balcony railing as the frat boys’ cheers continued, drowning out everything but her growing unease.
Her phone buzzed again—a message from Jinx.
“Still no sign of Lux downstairs. This feels off.”
Vi clenched her jaw.
_______________
Jinx appeared at the top of the stairs just as Vi turned the corner again, both of them clearly empty-handed.
“Anything?” Vi asked.
Jinx shook her head, a little breathless. “People in the backyard are too drunk to see their own shoes, let alone Lux.”
Vi exhaled. Her shoulder ached from sparring earlier, the wrap under her hoodie sticking slightly to the skin. “Keep looking. She didn’t vanish.”
Jinx frowned and checked her phone, thumb hovering. A second later, her brows shot up. “Wait. What the hell?”
Vi leaned in. On the screen was a tweet from Lux’s account, posted just minutes ago:
“I fucking hate piltie parties. Everyone here’s an idiot. Also their vodka is too good. Watch your drinks, losers.”
“What the fuck?” Jinx muttered, eyes scanning the screen again.
Vi stared at it, processing. “It’s recent. So she’s alive. And tweeting.”
“But why not text me back?” Jinx asked, voice lower now, tension creeping in.
Vi didn’t have an answer.
“I’ll check her dorm,” Jinx said, already turning. “If she’s back, she better explain this bullshit.”
Vi nodded. “I’ll sweep the house one last time. Meet you there.”
Jinx disappeared down the stairs, hoodie bouncing behind her.
Vi sighed, rolled her sore wrist, and made her way back through the throng of people, shoving past someone holding a fake sword and a keg cup. Her body was tired, brain buzzing with adrenaline and noise.
She passed the kitchen island—and paused.
Caitlyn.
Still there, drink in hand. Her hair was pinned now, off her shoulders. She looked like she’d tried to cool off and failed. Her expression was unreadable, but the flush on her chest and neck hadn’t gone away.
She downed her shot in one go, jaw tight.
Their eyes met—just for a second. No words.
Cait set the glass down harder than necessary and disappeared down the basement stairs.
Vi blinked after her.
Okay.
Weird.
The queen of ice, loosing her composure for once.
She turned to keep looking and almost walked into a girl in red lipstick and glitter eyeliner.
“Oh—uh,” the girl said, blinking up at Vi. “You’re the one looking for the blond girl, right?”
Vi’s heart stopped. “Yeah. Lux.”
“She was upstairs earlier,” the girl said. “With Jayce, I think? She wasn’t, like, wasted or anything. Just… happy. Tipsy. Super giggly.”
Vi’s stomach did something she didn’t like. “I already checked upstairs. She’s not there. Did you see her come back down?”
The girl shrugged, raising her hands. “Pfft—beats me. No idea.” She tilted her head, smacking her gum. “Could’ve gone anywhere.”
Vi clenched her jaw. “Thanks.”
She headed toward the basement, shoulders tense, half-expecting nothing. The party thinned out the deeper she went. Less noise. Less light.
A long hallway stretched ahead.
First door: locked.
Second: some kind of coat room.
Third—
She opened it.
It happened too fast.
Someone against the wall, by the door flinched with surprise—
Caitlyn.
Vi froze.
Caitlyn’s eyes snapped up, wide. Her posture screamed guilt before she even opened her mouth. She yanked her hand out from between her legs like she’d been burned.
“What the hell are you doing?” she hissed, voice low and furious.
Vi couldn’t speak.
Couldn’t move.
Her gaze—traitorous and helpless—dropped before she could stop it.
Caitlyn’s fingers were slick. Her cheeks were flushed. Her chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths. And even in the dim light, she was the most devastating thing Vi had ever seen.
Cait scrambled up, trying to push past her. “Go away, Vi.”
Vi took a step back, stunned, lips parting—but no words came.
The door slammed shut between them.
A heartbeat passed.
Two.
Cait pressed her head against the other side of the door. “Unbelievable,” she whispered. “Fucking hell.”
Vi stood there, rooted, eyes wide.
Her mind raced.
Images flashing. Her brain refusing to delete what she’d just seen.
Her.
Like that.
fuck.
Vi ran a hand through her hair. Let out a shaky breath. Tried not to think about the heat in her neck or the blood rushing somewhere it absolutely shouldn’t.
She’d imagined a lot of things when it came to Caitlyn Kiramman.
And now she’d never be able to stop.
Vi took another breath.
Her legs moved without real purpose, pacing a few steps down the hall and back again, one hand running through her hair—nervous, aimless, betraying the calm she was trying to fake.
She stopped just outside the door.
Pressed her palm flat to it. Closed her eyes.
And said, “I’m sorry.”
From the other side, Caitlyn’s voice snapped back, half-muffled, sharp and startled:
“What the—? Why are you still there?”
Vi pulled her hand away, blinking.
Yeah. That tracked.
The ice princess probably wanted to disappear through the floor.
Yeah.
That image hadn’t left her head.
Cait’s fingers. Wet. Deliberate.
Vi let out a short, startled laugh again—more nerves than amusement.
Just once. Quiet. Kind of breathless.
Couldn’t help it.
From inside, there was a scrape. A sharp inhale.
And then the door flung open.
Hard.
Caitlyn stood in the threshold, cheeks still flushed, expression absolutely furious. Her hands were clenched at her sides. Her mouth parted like she was about to bite someone’s head off.
Vi’s eyes widened—and then she smiled.
Shit. Not helping.
“Jesus Christ,” Cait hissed. “Do you live to be unbearable?”
Vi lifted both hands, mock-innocent, stepping back half a pace.
Her eyes dropped. Just for a second.
Straight to Caitlyn’s mouth. Then Back up again.
Cait stepped forward—fast—and shoved Vi back with a hand to her shoulder, just enough force to pass by.
Vi let her.
But couldn’t help herself.
She sniffed the sleeve of her jacket. Then raised her brows. “Gonna have to wash this.”
Cait turned around, eyes flaring.
“Smells like your little secret,” Vi added, teeth glinting, grin infuriatingly smug.
“You are insufferable,” Cait snapped, voice tight. “I don’t know what the hell your problem is, Violet, but whatever I’ve done to earn this constant harassment—seriously, what? What the fuck did I do to you?”
Her voice cracked at the end. Just a little.
Vi’s smile faltered.
That sound—it wasn’t anger. Not really. It was frustration. Hurt. A strain she hadn’t expected to hear from Caitlyn Kiramman of all people.
And it caught her in the chest.
Line crossed, Vi thought. Shit. Idiot.
“…Hey,” she said, hands raised, tone softening. “I’m—look, I didn’t mean—”
Cait was breathing hard, eyes wet and wild.
Vi rubbed the back of her neck. “I just meant—whatever that was? It’s none of my business. I didn’t see anything.”
Cait laughed bitterly. “Clearly.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“Why would I care what you say?” Cait shot back, voice sharper now. “Who the hell are you to me, Vi? Some girl who decided to hate me on sight?”
Vi didn’t answer.
“Just—leave me alone.”
She moved to walk past.
On instinct, Vi caught her arm—just gently, fingers on her forearm. Cait froze.
Vi immediately hated herself for it.
What are you doing, dumbass? Let her go.
“I mean it,” Vi said, quiet this time. “I’m not gonna make a thing out of it.”
Cait turned, staring at her. Her jaw was tight, but her eyes said something else. Something messier.
She slipped her arm free.
“Don’t touch me.”
And then she was walking away, heels sharp, spine straight.
Vi watched her go, heart still doing something it absolutely shouldn’t be doing.
“…Hey,” she called after her. “Have you seen Lux?”
Cait stopped—just barely.
Then turned her head, incredulous.
The look she gave Vi was half fury, half disbelief.
And then she walked faster, disappearing upstairs.
Vi stood there for a beat.
She exhaled.
“Guess that’s a no.”
________________
Vi stepped outside, letting the music and heat fall away like a second skin.
The cold hit her shoulders instantly. Her hoodie was damp at the collar, her nerves still wired. She lit a cigarette with shaking fingers and leaned against the porch railing, eyes scanning her phone.
A message from Jinx finally pinged through:
“Approaching the dorm. Gonna kick down her door (politely) and see if she’s alive or just being dramatic.”
Vi snorted. Classic Jinx. Always texting like she was narrating a heist.
She typed back:
“Ok. Heading there now. Nothing else to do here anyway.”
She slid the phone into her pocket.
Exhaled.
The smoke curled upward as she glanced across the yard—and froze.
There, sprawled lengthwise on a bench, arms folded behind his head, eyes on the stars like they owed him an explanation—
Viktor.
She almost walked past. But something in his stillness, the sag of his shoulders, made her veer off course.
“Hey, Vik.”
He turned slightly, eyes red-rimmed but dry now. “Vi.” His accent curled around her name like it wasn’t in a rush.
He sat up with a wince, then reached. “Would you mind sharing that?”
Vi handed it over, watched him inhale with the careful precision of someone who didn’t usually smoke—or wasn’t supposed to.
“What a night, huh?” he said softly, looking skyward again.
Vi noticed the faint sheen around his lashes, the tired slump of his spine.
She didn’t ask.
She got to the point.
“You seen Lux?” she asked, voice low. “I’ve asked around but everyone’s too drunk to remember their own names.”
Viktor didn’t answer right away. Just studied the cigarette between his fingers like it might hold the answer.
“She was with Jayce,” he said finally, quiet, bitter.
The last word left his mouth like poison.
“Yeah, that’s what everyone’s saying,” Vi replied. “But no one’s seen her since.”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve been out here, watching the ride of a couple bad decisions.”
He handed the cigarette back. Vi took it, dragged once, then held it between her fingers like a fuse burning low.
“She was pissed, when I saw her,” Viktor added. “Muttered something like ‘fucking pilties’ and ‘I wanna leave’ while yanking a bottle out of my hands.”
Vi huffed a laugh. “Sounds like Lux.”
“But that was before the whole thing with Jayce. So who knows.”
Vi nodded. “Thanks, Vik.”
He gave a small nod, like it cost him something.
A pause.
“Can I steal one for later?” he asked, tone soft.
“Don’t you have, like, fucked-up lungs or something?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Let me worry about that.”
Vi handed him one, along with her lighter.
As she tucked the rest back in her pocket, headlights swept across the yard.
Vi turned.
A sleek black car rolled to a stop in front of the house. Polished, expensive. The kind of car that knew it didn’t need to prove itself.
And then she saw them.
Caitlyn and Mel.
Walking toward it.
Of course. Royalty didn’t walk home.
Mel’s voice carried across the lawn: “Jayce is a fucking idiot.”
Vi grinned around the cigarette. “Finally, something we agree on.”
And then—
Caitlyn’s voice. Soft. Cutting through the night like glass.
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
It hit her square in the chest.
She shouldn’t care. But—
Shit.
Then Mel added, “You should really give Maddie a chance, Cait. You two make sense.”
Vi’s eyes flicked up.
They broke up?
Not that she cared.
Not really.
Just… information. Context. Data.
Pure curiosity.
Cait didn’t respond. Just pulled the car door open.
Mel paused, teasing now. “Is it the sex?”
“Stop it,” Cait snapped, climbing in fast.
Doors slammed.
Vi scowled. Times like this made her wish she had super hearing.
“You like her,” Viktor said.
Vi nearly choked on her cigarette. She turned, fast. “No.”
He smiled faintly. “Sure. That’s why you’re blushing.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I just think she’s—annoying. Okay? Bossy. Condescending. Thinks she’s better than everyone.”
Viktor tilted his head. “Such strong opinions.”
“Yeah, well—”
“She’s single now.”
Vi looked away. “Why do you even hang out with them, Vik? You’re from Zaun.”
Viktor’s expression shifted. He looked away toward the streetlight.
“I get where you’re coming from,” he said, voice low. “I really do.”
Vi frowned. He was holding something back. “And?”
He sighed. “They’re not all bad. If you actually got to know Caitlyn… you might even love her.”
“I wouldn’t love her,” Vi snapped, too fast.
“I meant as a person.”
“Still no.”
Viktor hesitated, then added quietly, “Honestly, I started hanging out with them because of Jayce, just study partners at first—engineering nerds sticking together.”
Vi’s eyes widened. “Oh.”
Viktor nodded once, slowly.
He sat back down, leaned against the bench. His face was unreadable now. The stars above him, just as cold.
Vi sat beside him for a second, passing the cigarette between them.
“You like him?” she asked.
“No,” Viktor said flatly. “Not at all.”
Vi stared at him.
Then she snorted. “Liar.”
Viktor smirked. “And you?”
Vi raised her brows.
“Kiramman?”
Vi scoffed. “Please.”
But neither of them said anything for a while. And the silence was full of truths they weren’t ready to tell.
Vi stood up eventually, brushing ash from her jacket. “See you, Vik.”
He nodded.
________________
Vi pushed through the double doors of the dorm building, letting them swing shut behind her. The hallway was quiet—just the soft hum of old lights overhead, the distant thud of music bleeding from someone’s room. She adjusted her hoodie and headed down the corridor.
Lux’s room was halfway down the hall.
She spotted Jinx before she even reached the door—sitting cross-legged on the floor, arms crossed, back against the wall, chewing on the string of her hoodie like it owed her money.
Vi slowed. “What? She’s not here?”
Jinx didn’t answer right away. Just gave her a sharp look, then jerked her chin toward the door—half-open.
“She wasn’t inside?” Vi asked, already piecing it together. “You opened it?”
Jinx rolled her eyes. “Duh.”
Vi stepped past her, nudged the door wider, and flicked the light on.
The room was a mess—but not the usual post-party chaos. Just… quiet. Disjointed.
The closet door was wide open. Completely empty. No shoes, no coats, no hangers. Like someone had vacuumed that section of her life away.
But the desk was still full. Notebooks. Her water bottle. Pictures stuck to the wall—her and Jinx laughing, her at a karaoke, she noticed Mel in the background. Must have been a party on campus. A few earrings on the nightstand. Lip gloss. A book spine cracked open, spine-up, on the bed.
Vi stood there for a moment. Let it sink in.
Then she stepped back into the hall.
“Maybe she had a breakdown,” she said. “Went back home or something.”
Jinx was still chewing on her hoodie string. She didn’t look at Vi when she muttered, “Without saying anything? That’s not Lux.”
The second part came quieter. Smaller.
Vi looked at Jinx again—really looked this time.
She was curled up tight, but trying to seem like she didn’t care. That was her thing. Pretend the world couldn’t touch her, like nothing ever got close enough to sting.
But Vi knew better.
Lux and Jinx had been close. Stupidly close. Told each other everything, or so it seemed. Inside jokes, late-night rants, petty secrets traded like currency. And yeah—Lux liked to party, liked to pretend she wasn’t just another girl from Demacia slumming it with the rest of them. But even so, she wasn’t the type to vanish. Not like this. Not without saying something. Especially not to Jinx.
Jinx trusted her. And Vi knew how dangerous that was—how stupidly dangerous it was to believe you really knew someone. People changed. Left. Hurt you in ways they didn’t even realize.
Maybe this was one of those times.
Maybe Lux had changed, and just hadn’t told anyone yet.
Or maybe she’d been someone else all along.
Vi swallowed, rubbed at the corner of her mouth—and then opened her phone and opened Lux’s Twitter.
New post.
I spread my wings and I learn how to fly suckeeeerrssssss
Attached: a blurry pic of her hand flipping off the camera. Her nail polish half-chipped, a chunky silver ring on her middle finger.
Well…
Vi glanced down at Jinx, who was now hugging her knees to her chest, jaw tight.
“You good?” Vi asked.
Jinx scoffed. “Whatever. Let’s go. Clearly she doesn’t give a shit about telling me anything.”
Vi hesitated, then sat beside her for a second. Nudged her knee.
“She’ll text back,” she said gently. “Tomorrow, she’ll probably explain.”
Jinx shrugged one shoulder.
“Yeah, and I’ll tell her to go fuck herself.”
Vi grinned. “Solid plan.”
That earned the tiniest ghost of a smile from Jinx.
Just barely.
But Vi took it.
And together, they stood up.
And walked.
______________
The hallway lights were dim, buzzing faintly as Vi pushed the dorm room door open and stepped inside.
Dark. Quiet.
Only the amber glow of the campus filtering through the blinds painted soft lines on the floor.
She didn’t turn on the lights.
Instead, she walked to the window, pulled out the cigarette she’d been saving from earlier, and placed it gently on the sill like a little ritual. Still unlit. Like her head might stop spinning if she just held still long enough.
She sat down on the edge of her bed.
Kicked off her boots.
Exhaled.
Her eyes drifted up to the ceiling, but she wasn’t really looking at it. Her fingers touched her jacket absently—right where Caitlyn had shoved her aside. Right where she’d grabbed her.
The pressure still lingered.
That warmth.
She swallowed, felt the tips of her ears heat up again. The image slammed back into her head without warning: Caitlyn’s head tilted, hair falling over her shoulder, her legs bare and trembling, her hand moving between her thighs—
Vi clenched her jaw.
“You’re pathetic,” she muttered.
She flopped back onto the bed, dragged a hand down her face, grabbed her phone without thinking.
It took all of three seconds before she was typing caitkiramman into the search bar.
There she was.
Perfect little squares.
Caitlyn on campus, poised and smiling. Caitlyn at some student gala with her hand around Maddie’s waist. Caitlyn in fencing gear. Caitlyn in sunlight. Caitlyn laughing.
Always untouchable. Always effortless.
Vi locked the phone.
Her eyes drifted to the wall above her desk.
A photograph, yellowing with age, half-tucked behind a peeling postcard:
Her. Jinx. Their parents. All squeezed together on the couch in their old apartment in Zaun. Her dad’s arm wrapped around her shoulders. Her mom’s smile too big for the frame.
She stared at it.
Tried not to, but did anyway.
She remembered the way the street outside their building had filled with smoke that night. How the enforcers didn’t even blink when they opened fire into the crowd—just a bunch of Zaunites demanding medicine, clean water, air that didn’t choke your lungs.
She remembered the headlines the next morning.
She remembered how the council voted the next week to increase patrols, not aid.
And she remembered the way it felt to sign her student loan papers—to realize that even with a boxing scholarship, she’d be in debt until her forties if she was lucky.
All just to study something she could barely admit she cared about.
Meanwhile, girls like Caitlyn Kiramman wore tailored jackets and drank 20-Hexes coffees and got to play detective like it was a hobby. Born with everything. Above it all.
Families like hers didn’t pay taxes. They collected them.
From people like Vi.
From corpses like her parents.
She blinked hard.
Stared at the ceiling again.
“Fuck.”
And yet—
All she could see was Cait.
That perfect profile.
Those eyes like winter.
That smile, soft and private, meant for someone else.
The sweet, delicious, wicked smell of her fingers earlier.
Vi turned on her side, curled up with her arm under her head, staring at nothing.
She hated her.
She hated her.
Always had.
Always would.
So, naturally—
Vi did what any totally rational, emotionally stable person would do in her situation.
She grabbed her phone.
Typed in Caitlyn Kiramman’s number.
Just sat there, thumb hovering over the screen like it might bite her.
She wasn’t even sure what she was going to say.
Or why the hell she thought it was a good idea.
She just—
Fuck.
She hit call.
_________________
The sounds in the room were quiet but unmistakable—an intimacy she’d earned tonight. Needed, even. Just a moment of control. Of peace. Of something.
Caitlyn moved slow, precise, the way she did everything else. But her hips had started to roll, rhythm building against her fingers—
God, she needed to get off today. She deserved this.
The room was dim, lit only by the spill of campus lights sneaking past the curtain slats. Her hair was loose, damp from a too-hot shower. Her robe hung forgotten on the edge of the bed, the sheets twisted around her hips, cool against flushed skin.
She wasn’t drunk. Not really. Just loose enough to be reckless.
It had been… a day.
A fight with Maddie that left a bitter aftertaste. A party she didn’t want to attend. A mortifying run-in with Vi. And of course—her mother. Always her mother.
Everything spun.
And Caitlyn was tired of pretending she could carry it gracefully.
She rolled her hips harder, messier, filthier, against her fingers. A moan escaping from her chest.
She remembered Vi’s bicep under her hand. Against her better judgment, the thought lingered—and only burned lower in her center, heavier, insistent.
Vi’s hand on her waist. Grounding, firm. Strong.
Fuck.
She was soaked.
Then—
Her phone buzzed.
She blinked, startled, and turned her head lazily toward the screen.
Violet.
Caitlyn froze. Every muscle locking up.
“What the—?”
She stared at the name. Heart thudding now for a very different reason.
What could she possibly want?
To gloat? To laugh? To press her advantage?
No, Caitlyn—calm down. Breathe.
She sat up slowly, covering herself on instinct. Her fingers brushed the screen. And before she could second-guess it—
She answered.
There was silence.
Just static at first. And maybe… a breath.
Caitlyn’s voice came cool, steady. “I sincerely hope this isn’t blackmail.”
A beat.
Then Vi’s voice, low. Careful. Rougher than Cait remembered, like she’d been pacing.
“…It’s not.”
Another beat.
Cait stared at the ceiling, one arm folded behind her head, the other still holding the phone.
“Okay,” she said. “Then what is it?”
Vi didn’t answer immediately.
Cait could hear her breathing.
She imagined her—back pressed to some wall, hand in her pocket, brows drawn. Tense. Fidgeting.
“I just…” Vi cleared her throat. “Wanted to say sorry. Properly.”
“You already did,” Caitlyn replied, tone clipped.
“…Yeah. But that wasn’t a good timing and—”
“Why do you hate me, Vi?”
The question dropped like a stone.
A silence stretched between them—quiet, but thick with breath.
Vi shifted where she stood, fingers tightening around the edge of the desk. She hadn’t expected that.
But then again, Caitlyn Kiramman was pretty straight forward.
Vi wasn’t going to say that she hated her, she called to… apologize? Right?
“Hate is a strong word, princess.”
The word rolled off her tongue like a challenge, all bite. A reflex.
But the second it landed—princess—Caitlyn closed her eyes.
Bit her lip.
Her fingers dipped lower again, back to where they’d been before that name flashed on her phone screen. Her breath hitched.
She didn’t mean to—but fuck it. Her body was already making the decision for her.
She curled her toes under the duvet.
“Hm,” she said coolly. “Is it?”
Vi swallowed.
That tone. Fucking hell.
She knew that voice—steady, imperious, smooth as sin. It set her teeth on edge. It made her want to fight. It made her—
Want.
Vi stood straighter, heart hammering.
She pressed her hand flat to the desk. The edge dug into her palm. She needed something to ground her, because Caitlyn’s voice was doing things it had absolutely no right to do.
And she could hear her.
Not just the words—the Caitlyn—but everything else. Her breathing, soft and slow. The faintest rustle of fabric.
Vi’s eyes widened.
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Her face flushed hot instantly. She bit the inside of her cheek, said nothing.
Just listened.
The sound of Caitlyn’s breath catching. The tiniest shift of movement.
God.
Her mind betrayed her in vivid, humiliating detail—fingers, pale and sure, moving with a rhythm Vi had walked in on just hours ago. The way they had glistened in the dim light. The way Cait had gasped, turned, flushed—
She gripped the desk harder.
“I heard you’re single,” she said, because she had to say something—anything—to make the blood leave her ears.
Another soft exhale on the line.
Cait arched into her own hand under the covers, a slow burn curling in her belly.
“Are you calling to apply?” she asked, voice like honey poured over a blade. “Is that your idea of flirting?”
Vi’s eyes slammed shut.
She swallowed.
“Don't flatter yourself, princess” she managed.
But her hand had drifted to the waistband of her pants, hovering. Not touching. Not yet.
She wasn’t doing this.
She was.
God, she could see her.
Back arched, lips parted. The smooth skin of her stomach rising and falling with every controlled breath.
Vi turned slightly, leaned her forehead against the wall.
“I mean…” she muttered, low, mortified, “today kinda makes sense, if you’re not, y’know, dating anyone—”
What the fuck are you saying, Vi?
But Cait’s voice dropped another octave.
“So you care about me? Is that it?”
Vi’s entire body tensed.
There it was again.
That tone.
That infuriating, elegant, knows-exactly-what-she’s-doing voice.
It wrapped around her like silk and heat and thunder, and Vi had to bite her lips to keep from making a sound.
She couldn’t answer.
Couldn’t find the words.
And Caitlyn noticed.
She heard the breath catch on the other end.
She heard Vi fumble, the shift of fabric, the beat of hesitation that said more than words ever could.
Her lips curled faintly.
Her rhythm didn’t falter.
Not once.
Not now.
So… She likes my voice. Caitlyn thought.
Duly noted.
Vi exhaled—slow and uneven—and pressed her fingers slow but hard against her clit, to say she was wet was an understatement.
She told herself it was nothing…
She was lying.
“I couldn't care less about you, Kiramman,” she said coolly, even as her fingers dipped lower.
Even as her breath started to catch.
Even as the heat behind her navel bloomed in slow, devastating waves.
But her voice? Still calm. Still cocky.
Like this wasn’t unhinged. Like she wasn’t listening.
Because of course she was. Every inhale. Every subtle shift of Caitlyn’s breath. Every soft little sound that slipped through, no matter how hard Cait tried to suppress it.
And Caitlyn?
Caitlyn heard her, too.
She felt it—through the way Vi had stopped filling the silence with banter, through the way her voice had dipped an octave, through the momentary pause in Vi’s breathing as if she’d reached exactly where she needed to.
And Vi had come, so fast it was pathetic, her legs were shaking, her slick fingers went back to grounding herself at the desk.
Cait arched her back.
Let her eyes fall shut.
Let her hand move faster now, slick and insistent under the covers.
“Hm,” she murmured, voice sharp with purpose. “So rude. Didn’t anyone teach you manners?”
Vi let out a breath. Licked her lips.
She was still feeling the trembling in her — sensitive now — center.
“You don’t like it rough?” she asked, low, dangerous.
Almost a growl.
She knew exactly how Caitlyn might react to that. Could picture it perfectly: those long legs tensing, those sharp brows furrowing, that composed, privileged mouth falling open—
And she was right.
Because Caitlyn’s breath stuttered. Her legs trembled. Her hips jerked up helplessly into her own touch as Vi’s voice, hot and hungry and far too real, flooded into her ear.
Her other hand clenched the sheets, hard.
She turned her face away from the phone.
And came.
Quietly. Fiercely. A full-body quake she tried to silence—tried to own—but couldn’t quite hide.
A strangled sound slipped out, just once. A gasp. Half-muffled, but there.
Vi heard it.
Every second of it.
And she wasn’t breathing anymore.
She pressed her hand to her chest like that might help. Like it might slow her pulse.
Jesus.
Her whole body flushed, nerves sparking like live wire.
She couldn’t stop the words from coming out, slow and heated, barely a whisper:
“Suppose I’ll have to be ruder next time… see if it makes you stay away from me.”
There was a pause on the line.
A long one.
Caitlyn lay in bed, legs still trembling slightly, her lips parted as she let the last of it through her.
She took her time to respond.
Then, cool and composed again, voice steady despite the chaos inside her:
“Do you apologize like this to everyone?”
Vi smirked, but her voice was breathless. “Only the bratty ones.”
“Then I don’t accept your apologies,” Cait said crisply, suddenly distant.
The cold hit Vi like a slap.
Her stomach dropped.
Wait—what?
“Caitlyn, I—”
But the line went dead.
Vi stared at her phone, blinking.
The silence was deafening.
She lowered the device slowly, hand shaking slightly.
“Fuck,” she muttered.
Pressed the phone to her chest.
“You fucking idiot.”
_____________
The room was finally quiet.
Caitlyn lay on her back, sheets tangled around her hips, breath still shallow—though not from exertion anymore. Her phone rested on her stomach, the screen dim now, but her thoughts refused to fade with it.
She hadn’t moved in minutes. Just stared upward like the ceiling had something to say.
She’s infuriating.
A beat.
She called me.
She exhaled slowly, one hand pressed to her sternum, as if it could steady the mess inside.
—
Meanwhile, in the dorms, Vi hadn’t made it to bed.
She sat on the floor, knees bent, back pressed against the frame. The campus lights outside the window cast long shadows across the room, slicing her body in halves of dark and gold.
A hand rested over her heart like she was holding something in—something hot and rising.
You’re so fucked.
She laughed under her breath.
It wasn’t funny.
—
Jinx lay curled up in her hoodie, phone an inch from her face, brightness turned down so low the tweets barely glowed.
“I spread my wings and I learn how to fly suckeeeeersssss 💋🖕”
She stared.
Scrolled back. Read it again.
Lux hadn’t told her anything. Not a word.
She always told her. Always.
“You could’ve just said goodbye,” Jinx muttered. But the screen stayed cold. Unchanging.
She refreshed it again.
—
The door to Lux’s room drifted open just enough to creak. A half-drawn bed. Empty closet. Her sneakers were gone, but her water bottle still sat by the desk.
Photos pinned to the corkboard—Lux mid-laugh in every one. Her voice still felt like it echoed inside the walls.
The book on her bed had a note at the end of the page.
“Love is all you need” and “how far can I go?”
—
Jayce sat on the couch, half a beer in one hand, phone in the other. His shirt was wrinkled, collar tugged loose. Laughter and bass still pulsed through the walls, a couple of frat boys hooting from the kitchen.
“Next girl, who’s it gonna be?”
“Ohhh, the new dental girls, bro. We trying or what?”
Jayce didn’t answer. Just frowned at his screen, thumb hovering over the call button again.
Calling… Viktor.
Still nothing.
He brought the beer to his lips but didn’t drink. Just held it there.
The room felt too loud, too bright, too empty.
—
Viktor didn’t even look at the screen when it buzzed again.
Same bench. Same slouch.
His cigarette had burned halfway down, ash flaking onto his sleeve. He watched the stars, trying to believe they had anything useful to say.
A tear slipped down the side of his nose, catching in the crease of his mouth. He didn’t wipe it.
Didn’t need to.
—
Mel stared at her own reflection, gold earrings already tucked away, fingertips running slow across her cheeks as the last traces of makeup vanished from her face.
The night had been long. The silence after, heavier.
She picked up her phone.
To: Lux
Where are you?
She hesitated.
Pressed send.
Then stared at herself again. Expressionless. Exhausted.
Worried.
—
Elsewhere—unseen, unknown—a desk sat in total stillness. No light except the one glowing from a phone screen, buzzing face up next to a single unmarked folder.
Incoming call — Jinx <3
Buzz.
Buzz.
Buzz.
The name flickered— Then another message lit up beneath it:
M: Seriously, answer.
No one picked up. The vibrations grew louder in the stillness, echoing inside the hollow quiet.
Buzz.
Buzz.
BZZZZZZZZZZ.