Chapter Text
Can't stop writing all these words on this page
I got a lot on my mind, but nothing good to say
Barely made it through the night, I gotta make it through the day
It's like I'm watching my life circling down a drain
.
I hope you sit for this, I didn't wish for this
I been writing my sins, checking off of the list
And if we call this the end, won't you blow me a kiss?
Fuck it, blow me away, throw me in the abyss... [...]
Layto, Ugly truth
You’ve probably heard the news already; I’ve made sure the letter reaches you soon after. That way, there’s less chance of you throwing it away the moment you recognise my handwriting.
Give me a few minutes. This is the last you’ll ever hear from me, I promise.
I wanted to tell you I’m sorry. I know it’s too late; I don’t expect anything to change if it reaches you. But you needed to know: I know I messed up. I was too proud, and too young. It was the first time something with someone else had gone so well. I was scared. If you’d got the certificate for your Golem, you wouldn’t have carried on working with me. You would have seized the chance to make a name for yourself and you would have left me, one way or another. The very thought of it was killing me. So I acted like a coward and, in the end, it made things worse. You never forgave me for what you saw as a betrayal. You’re the sort who never forgets, who never trusts again. I knew that, though. Perhaps I was hoping you liked me enough to make an exception.
I’ve never been so terribly wrong in my whole life.
After that, we started really getting on each other’s nerves—not like when we’d yell at each other without thinking about it over trivial things that always ended well. And the further apart we got, the more scared I became, and the more of a jerk I acted to hide it. And then there was the diving suit thing—we’d already been at each other’s throats, and there was almost as much anger as anything else between us. After yet another fight, I did something else really stupid that I regretted as soon as I’d cooled off enough to think clearly. Everything came to a halt. Our projects. Our relationship. Your life too, everything you wanted to do, everything you could have still done.
I swear that’s not what I wanted. I wanted them to yell at you, yes. I wanted them to shut your damn mouth a little, to force you to see that I was right. But not the banishment. Never.
I’m not saying you’re some saint who’s completely blameless in our shitty history, V—far from it. You’re a damn dramatic bastard who thinks emotions are weaknesses, just as incapable as I am of having a reasonable adult conversation. You can’t move on, you can’t stop yourself from hitting back the moment someone touches you, and damn, you aim so well and it hurts so much that it’s impossible to stay calm for two minutes when you feel like being a bastard.
But I never meant to take it all out on you like that.
You deserved a standing ovation for Blitz. You know I’ve run into him a few times? He’s awesome. I would have loved to work on him with you. You should have gotten a teaching job at the Academy—I can just picture you terrifying your students at every reading. We could have made a game out of it between us in the offices: how many of Daddy’s pretentious little boys and girls could we get to piss themselves in fear before the end of the semester? You could have also gotten a bunch of patents for all the breakthroughs in Augments you’ve made these past few years: yeah, I still think your Glorious Evolution is bullshit. But you’re a surgeon and a genius engineer, so I guess you’re allowed to be a little zany. Especially since I’m convinced you’re not as much of a fanatic for that crap as you were when you were twenty, and that you keep bringing it up when we’re fighting just to piss me off. You deserve the same recognition as I do, Vik. Maybe even more. At least you help those who need it.
You were the best partner I ever had, for work and everything else. If I had a choice, if I could relive a period of my life, it would be those early years when we worked together. I’ve never been happier.
And I’ve always felt all of this. I just couldn’t bring myself to say it. I can never say the right thing when we’re face to face. It’s easier this way. You can cross things out, start over, craft perfect sentences. And damn, Gods knows I’ve had plenty of time to think about all this crap since then. That’s probably why it comes out so well.
If I’d known, I would’ve flooded you with letters long before.
There are so many things I wish for. Most of all, that things had gone differently between us. That we’d had more time. I know, I’m selfish and greedy. Always, when it comes to you.
But we weren't meant for this, and I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept it. Still, I'm telling you all this because I want you to be able to move on. I can hear you from here: “Hey, do you think I’m still harboring pointless feelings for you?” Yes, V. A little. You would never have let me touch you otherwise—I know you. I really want you to stop suffering because of my bullshit. So don’t be a stubborn bastard and accept this from me, at least. For your sake.
I don’t know if I’ll come back to Piltover. I know, it’s a shitty thing to tell you all this and then bail without giving you a chance to yell at me if you need to. What can I say? I’m completely falling apart, and now I have nothing left to hold me back. The last few months have been a disaster. I’d rather leave before anyone really realizes what a disgrace I’ve become. Yeah, still the same old Piltie who cares about appearances. But I’ve always been less blind to all this than you think. I know full well that in six months, a year, the good people of Piltover will have relegated me to the past, especially if other guys take over. But you see, despite everything I had to do to make it into the top ten, now it’s actually a relief. Better a hero who disappears overnight, still in his prime, than some poor schmuck who ends up boozing in front of everyone.
Don't be mad at me. You couldn't have told me anything worse than what I'm already telling myself, believe me.
I feel like I’m being torn in two just at the thought of leaving and everything coming to an end for us. But I have no choice. Otherwise, we’ll just keep stewing in our resentment, unable to forgive but unable to let go, like the two obsessive idiots we are. And I can’t take the pain of putting up with what we’ve become anymore.
Despite everything, and even if you haven’t felt the same way for a long time... When we saw each other in my lab, I hope you knew that only the last thing I said to you was true. I don’t want you to think I was just using you for a good time. Ah! That would have been easier, but I swear that wasn’t the case.
I have to stop here. I might end up writing things you won’t want to read, and I promised myself this was just for you.
I wish you all the best. Sincerely.
J.
P.S.: It took me a while because that old fuck didn’t give up without a fight, but I managed to fix one of my screw-ups. You’ll find the Golem paternity certificate in the envelope, and one of my lawyers will contact you about the financial details. He’s the only one who had the guts to agree to work with you, so don’t shoot him on sight, please. With the royalties—which you’ll eventually accept—you’ll never have to steal again to get the gear you need. Except for the thrill and the adrenaline, yeah, but I like to think that without me it won’t be as much fun. If you’re still itching to do it, go easy on the Sheriff for a while. Please. She’s a good person, and I know my departure is going to shake her up a bit.
Goodbye, Viktor. Maybe we’ll have better luck in another time.