Chapter Text
The first occurrence that Viktor could remember was when he was no more than five years old.
That day had gone like any other in his childhood. His mother and father were both returning from working in the fissures of the Undercity known as Zaun, and he was playing quietly in his room. On that particular day, Viktor’s toys were not giving the satisfaction they typically would, so he was already feeling like a grouch when his parents began arguing in the living room, vicious words spat between them on the other side of the thin wooden door as soon as they arrived home.
His attention drew up to the door from where he sat at the center of the tiny bedroom, which was extremely small, as if it was previously some kind of closet before it had been converted. The cardboard walls held no security from the anger on the other side, slams and stomps causing the entire weary structure to creak and moan and shake, as if it could collapse around them with any additional disturbance.
Young Viktor stood slowly, his developing brain just keen enough to understand that this could lead to danger – he already knew how devilishly angry his father could be.
Trembling hands desperately fumbled to cover his ears and his eyes squeezed shut, as if that would be able to shield Viktor from the rage in the other room. Unable to control his racing thoughts, his mind seemed to focus on the fact that he had left his plate from lunch on the kitchen counter. He flinched when he heard a startling crash come from the other room.
The screaming suddenly ceased, surprise choking both of his parents into silence. Curious, Viktor found himself reaching for the doorknob, pushing the door just slightly open enough so he could observe the interaction on the other side with one eye.
Both of his parents stood in the middle of the living room, mouths gaping and eyes darting from each other toward the shattered lunch plate that was splayed across the familiar concrete floor. To Viktor, it seemed ordinary enough, perhaps one of them had thrown the plate in a fit of fury. But if they had, then what was it that had them both so perplexed about it?
The shock had passed and when the seemingly ordinary plate stayed stationary on the dirty floor of the home, the screaming continued, much to Viktor’s dismay.
Moments later, every nerve in his body felt frayed, curling in on themselves while he watched horrified as his father’s giant palm raised in the air and dropped heavily and swiftly against his mother’s cheek. In the very same moment as the slap collided with her stunned face, all of the cabinets and drawers in the kitchen on the other side of the room suddenly swung open, their contents spilling out in a chaotic panic and flying aimlessly across the kitchen and into the living room where his parents struggled.
They froze once again, the same shock as before painted over their distressed faces. But now the three of them witnessed all of the plates, the bowls, cups, pots, pans, and even the silverware flying desperately from its keep as if an invisible entity had control over each piece.
Viktor screamed as his hands once again clasped over his ears, the monstrous sounds of their kitchen dishes shattering all around overwhelming him further as he ruminated, picturing over and over again the first time he would witness his father laying hands on his mother.
Still in stunned disbelief of the dishes coming to life that threatened to hit them at any moment, Viktor’s mother and father slowly lifted their eyes to their son in the doorway, who they now knew stood as witness to what had transpired prior. They remained quiet and still, too afraid to make any movements yet.
Soon, the dishes had run out. But his parents were unable to ignore the way that the cabinet doors and kitchen drawers still rattled desperately as if they were looking for more dishes to toss, to no avail.
Viktor was ordered to close his door, and stay there for the rest of the evening without dinner.
They had never uttered a single word about the incident to each other or to their son since, and the first occurrence ended up swept under the dusty rug of their home.
Occurrences after that day happened off and on, small things like pictures falling off of shelves or walls when Viktor felt distressed, sometimes bigger things like windows cracking on their own as if a small invisible rock had been thrown into them. It mostly happened when his parents argued, or when Viktor was stressed. His parents recognized the pattern around the age of ten, and were quick to try and tamp down whatever it was that their son may be capable of.
“Don’t you ever tell anyone about it,” his father had scolded him one night after a long drinking bender at The Last Drop, a wild look in his eye Viktor had never seen previously, “We can’t let anyone know about this – this work of the devil inside of you, Viktor. You’re a monster. I’ll stop it myself if I have to.”
Not only did this threat mostly stop Viktor’s uncontrolled capabilities from happening, it also ensured that he knew that it was evil – that he was evil, and whatever these occurrences were had to be kept deep down where nobody could ever find them. Not even himself.
When he was fifteen, his mother suddenly passed away from complications with cancer. As Viktor was beginning his own struggles with chronic illness and a leg that was something much less than useful to him, he also found himself mourning the only person who ever loved him. But even she had only seemed to love him under the condition that he did not use his abilities under any circumstances, cloaked with the guise that it was what would be best for Viktor and the family.
Now he was old enough to understand that it was only ever out of fear.
In the dank, dark graveyard, as the grave diggers readied the coffin for lowering and burial, the damned thing wouldn’t budge. They tried everything they could to lower it into the deep, seemingly endless hole beneath it, but the large wooden and tattered final resting place for his mother refused to move a single inch, even after all the levies and ropes had been removed and double checked.
Tears streamed relentlessly down Viktor’s face as he watched the men struggle, his jaw clenched so tightly he could almost feel his teeth beginning to crack under the pressure. At his side, his hands twisted around his cane nervously, but his honey amber eyes were fixated on his mother.
“You have to let her go, son,” his father had whispered in his ear, his voice void of all emotion and feeling. “You have to let go.”
Just as one of the grave diggers had bravely slipped down into the six foot hole underneath the coffin to cautiously inspect for anything that may be holding it suspended in place, the merciless wood came crashing down without warning on top of him, the weight crushing the poor man and damning him to lie in eternal slumber with Viktor’s mother resting above.
Occurrences unfortunately persisted for a short time after his mother’s passing, only then it was much easier for his father to reprimand Viktor with violence for it happening without her in the way to protect him. It worked to scare Viktor into compliance, and forced him to control his powers to the point again where they lay mostly dormant.
The constant turmoil and abuse was the only excuse Viktor needed to leave Zaun on his eighteenth birthday and not look back. He didn’t leave a note, nor did he say goodbye to his aging father. Viktor simply packed a bag, and he left, unsure of where he’d go but absolutely positive that anywhere would be better than in that continuous hell.
That was when he found himself on the white stone steps of Piltover Academy for the first time.
One year later
A distant voice. Warm and comforting, it calls out in a melodic tone to Viktor from the endless pitch black of his dreams. A thin white hand reaches out to him from the abyss, the voice only growing louder as it grows closer.
“For fucks sake – Viktor, wake up!”
Startled, he lifted his head from his wooden desk, an open physics textbook resting under his crossed arms and a small pool of drool left where he had passed out on top of the well used surface. Viktor turned his sore neck to see his friend Vi standing in the doorway of his Academy dorm, her hands resting firmly on her hips, and her entire body adorned and layered with the Piltover Academy colors of White, Burgundy, and Gold.
“Did you seriously forget again? You promised that you’d go with me tonight, Viktor. She’s going to be there!”
“Forget? I could never.” He paused, realizing there was still drool dripping down his chin from his well deserved nap and wiping it away with his sleeve quickly. “What am I forgetting, exactly?”
Vi released an exasperated sigh, stepping into the dorm room and closing the door behind her.
“The game is tonight. You said you’d go with me after I helped you with finishing that project for your English final last week!”
Recollection of this exact promise refilled Viktor’s memory and he smiled sheepishly at his friend as he swiveled around in his desk chair, watching her collapse onto his unkempt bed across the room.
“I’m sorry. I guess I got so distracted by studying that I failed to recognize it was tonight. We only have two weeks left of the school year before break starts and the competition prep –.”
Vi cut him off with a wave of her finger, pointing it toward her pink haired skull.
“Then it’s the perfect time for a study break at the lacrosse game. Is that what you’ll be wearing?”
He sighed, his shoulders slouching as his eyes fell to observe the stained grey sweat pants and off-white long sleeved shirt that he had adorned for the last two days of cramming for final exams. His chestnut brown hair was a mess after who knows how long he had been unconscious on top of his study desk, and he was sure he could feel the indent of his pencil on the side of his cheek. What a disaster.
It was nearing the end of Viktor’s first full year at the academy. He had a full course schedule, and even helped as a professor’s assistant outside of classes to try and stay busy, which certainly served its purpose. It also served to exhaust him, which helped with suppressing his abilities, but not with his social life. Sports games were his least favorite social gathering, for various reasons.
“I will change, if it will stop your chastising,” he responded, rolling his exhausted eyes.
“It won’t, but you need to change anyway. You’re not going out dressed like that.”
Vi unwrapped the scarf from her neck that was striped with the Academy’s colors, and tossed it in Viktor’s direction.
“At least try to look like you go to school here this time. Please?”
Barely catching the scarf with his slow reflexes and stiff muscles, Viktor settled into his seat further for just a moment before grabbing his cane from beside the desk and hoisting himself up, holding the warm fabric close to his chest with his free hand as he chuckled at the remark.
The last time she had forced him to attend a lacrosse game in order to seek out who Vi would constantly refer to as ‘the girl of her dreams’, Viktor had gone dressed unintentionally in the rival team’s colors. It may have caused a stir that forced the two of them to leave the match early without so much as an opportunity for a “hello” between Vi and her long lost lover.
“You think tonight is really going to be your night?” Viktor queried as he approached his closet, shuffling through what very few clothes he owned that weren’t a part of his Academy uniform that could pass as school colors, and settled on a plain black hoodie with some dark blue jeans.
“I just know that it will be,” Vi answered hopefully and confidently as she stretched out on the bed, staring longingly at the dorm room ceiling. “Even if all I learn tonight is her name, I think I’d categorize that as a win.”
Viktor snorted as he redressed himself carefully, falling back into the desk chair to favor his leg as he swapped his sweat pants for jeans.
“Isn’t she on the team? There’s a likely chance she won’t even notice you’re there, especially if she’s playing tonight.”
“Then we’ll wait till after the game and catch up to the team. Come on, I know you were eyeing number thirteen at the last game. You could probably benefit from a little romance in your life too, y’know.”
This sentiment made Viktor’s cheeks burn furiously as he struggled to pull his oversized hoodie over his tangled hair and the same white shirt. Number thirteen: Talis. That was all he knew of his name from the back of the jersey, but he had certainly been the most handsome man on the lacrosse field. His striking hazel-gold eyes enchanted Viktor the moment they scanned the crowd at the previous game, even while hiding his other features under the mysterious face shield.
“I’m not interested in any romance. Especially with someone on the lacrosse team. They might as well just be meathead distractions from finals if you ask me.” Something tugged at his heart, and he promptly ignored the feeling.
Vi scoffed, turning her head to watch Viktor reluctantly wrap her scarf around his neck and under the hood of his jacket.
“Do you ever think about anything other than schoolwork, Viktor?” She clapped back without hesitation, a smirk playing on her lips, the scar along her top lip stretching with the expression.
Viktor chuckled, pocketing his cell phone and securing the mobility aid around his bad knee. “No, I don’t. Do we really have to go to this? Can’t we just stay and study and then go find her after the game is over?” His accent seemed to get heavier the more hopeless he felt.
His final desperate ploy made no difference, because once he had slipped on his shoes Vi was impatiently grabbing his arm and practically carrying him out of the dorm room in a hurry without any more playful banter and no chance to fix his hair.
The lacrosse field was nothing special to behold, but somehow entering still felt like walking into a different and unfamiliar universe to Viktor, filled with bustling bodies and a bold sea of colors, a mixture of Piltover burgundy and the sea-foam green of the opposing team from out of town. Giant flood lights towered over the green and white marked field, one white-netted goal on each far end, and the benches for the players on the side. A fence surrounded the field, and the benches sat in front of a few rows of metal, uncomfortable bleachers that were too cold to even consider sitting on without some sort of protection from ass-frostbite below. Luckily, Vi had brought a blanket to sit on and cushion the seat for the two of them.
Viktor fished around in his hoodie pocket with his free hand, grasped tightly onto his hash pen, and retrieved it to take a large puff as the two of them walked through the threshold of the lacrosse field entrance. White smoke billowed from his nostrils as he exhaled a moment later, a small cough escaping his lungs.
Side eyeing him, Vi smirked. “You don’t wanna’ be sober for this once in a lifetime experience?” She teased sarcastically.
This earned a tired chuckle from her friend while his eyes remained locked on the ground below to make sure he wasn’t putting his cane anywhere that could make him unstable. He shook his head solemnly as his eyelids began to feel slightly heavier, and his shoulders relaxed.
“Not even a little bit.”
Vi snorted, then her attention was suddenly taken away by the white, burgundy, and gold uniforms that were visible through the wire fence that separated the field and benches from the fan bleachers. The team had settled on one side of benches, while their opponents were to the right of them. All were waiting impatiently, reluctantly listening to the terrible radio-friendly music that played over the speakers above, and prepared themselves for the oncoming match. Some were stretching, some sat, and some were training close by.
With lacrosse being such a close contact sport, at first the idea of a co-ed team seemed unorthodox. But the athletes proved just how much of a benefit it was by how mercilessly they all had played on that field, especially the women.
Viktor glanced up and grabbed onto Vi’s bicep as she almost walked straight into the fence, her gaze locked on the girl stretching in front of the Piltover team’s bench, who had midnight blue hair tied back into a tight ponytail, small strands falling in front of her stunning blue eyes and pale, perfect skin.
“Vi, the bleachers are this way,” he was teasing back, tugging her as hard as he could muster in the opposite direction.
Snapping out of it, Vi shook her head back and forth and uttered an embarrassed chuckle. She took the lead and helped Viktor up a couple of the steps before she laid out their plaid Academy colored blanket and ushered him to sit once it was to her liking. Immediately, her attention went back to the bench at the edge of the field the moment she planted herself next to him on the bleachers.
Viktor sighed, stretching out his bad leg as much as he was able, and cursing under his breath as he wished to be anywhere but there.
The match began unceremoniously after a loud air horn sounded. Everyone on the field started adorning their face coverings and gloves, readying themselves to put up a fight – and fight they did. Though Viktor never really noticed.
Time went by in a blur, and Viktor was unable to pay much attention, as he was far too preoccupied with his discomfort on the hard bleachers and freezing limbs as the day grew later and colder, transforming into the autumn evening. Stuffing his hands into his hoodie pocket in an effort to get some kind of warmth, he finally glanced up for the first time in a long while to see that the game surprisingly was close to ending, but the score was tied.
Both teams strategized in their respective spots on the sides of the field, steamy breath rising up from their huddles in the cool nighttime air as coaches were barking orders.
Vi watched, nervous and excited all at the same time, causing a confused Viktor to wonder even more what exactly was the draw to things like watching sports, especially when it took so much effort to support. Throw the ball into the goal, and everyone loses their fucking minds. What was the point?
Huffing, Viktor shifted on the blanket that had by then grown cold, exposed to the elements for too long, just like him.
“Is a tie a bad thing?” He queried with a raised chestnut eyebrow, his cane secured in the crook of his slumped shoulder as his cold hands remained in his pocket.
Vi shrugged, the warmth of her breath turning to vapor in the air in front of her face.
“It is to me,” she answered with her silver eyes still locked intently on the field, her fists gathered tightly together while she waited for the game to resume for the final play. “Kick their asses, Kiramann!!” Vi was suddenly shouting with determination as the players reentered the field.
Number eleven, the back of the jersey reading ‘Kiramann’, was the dream girl, and in that moment Vi looked like her biggest fan as she whistled and whooped. Vi stood from the bleachers, clapping her hands together as the players took their positions, number eleven turning her shielded face toward the crowd to nod as an acknowledgement of the sudden cheer squad of one.
Vi blushed, releasing one more excited yawp before she took her seat again with a giant smile plastered over her face, still continuing to clap as the scrimmaging started.
A chuckle escaped Viktor’s throat as he watched his friend morph into a fangirl, but for the first time that evening the game actually managed to keep most of his attention.
There was Kiramann, taking and dealing hits like it was casual for her, as well as a few others who’s skill seemed impressive – but then number thirteen finally made his way into view. He had caught the ball in his net and was waiting for the perfect opportunity to either pass it to a teammate or attempt a goal, and it wasn’t an easy decision as everyone watched the opposing team begin to surround him. The crowd waited nervously with baited breath.
Viktor was intrigued, watching Talis hesitate, an impossible decision looming as time ran thin and the match approached its finish – and then he was raising his net in the air, broad muscles stretching under his jersey as he flung the ball up and over his opponents, aiming toward the goal.
Perhaps this was the rush that allowed people to enjoy sports so much, Viktor mused.
From the bleachers, Viktor observed the small white orb flying through the air, time seeming to slow before him. Before he even had the chance to realize what he was doing, he was settling in his seat and placing all of his focus on the traveling object and nothing else. Viktor closed his eyes and imagined the ball moving slightly to the left in the last second, grazing the inside of the net and just barely making it past the goal keeper’s comically large glove.
As he reopened his amber eyes, the entire crowd erupted. The bleachers trembled beneath him as the tidal wave of burgundy surrounding Viktor moved to their feet, Vi included, yelling at the top of their lungs in excited cheers. The air horn blew once again, indicating the official end of the match. Piltover players on the field celebrated and hugged each other, though Viktor was not able to see it through the people standing in front of his view.
He wasn’t sure if the outcome of the game was by his own hand or not, but his energy certainly was drained following his attempt, and he could feel it aching deep in his bones. He shivered.
Vi was suddenly offering her hand to Viktor, who reluctantly took it and stood from the bleachers with a sore and weary grunt. She gathered the cold blanket from the seat and guided Viktor into the aisle where people were still celebrating, bumping into them and causing his balance to sway into Vi and the other people around. Overstimulated, Viktor’s eyes stayed locked on his feet again, his hand holding desperately tight onto Vi and his cane as she led them through the elated and rowdy crowd.
They found themselves under the bleachers, where nearby the entrance leading on and off the lacrosse field was a snack bar and a small set of bathrooms. Very few people had made their way down from the bleachers with them, and it was a huge relief to Viktor to be somewhere much less chaotic, regardless of how the seats buzzed with victory above them.
“They’ll come through there any second,” Vi muttered as she finally released Viktor’s ice cold hand. “I–” She paused, worry suddenly creasing her scarred brow. “What am I going to say?!”
Her cheeks burned a simmering red as she shoved her hands into her jacket pockets, eyes darting from the field entrance to her friend as panic settled over.
“Great game? Go sports? Would you like to have dinner sometime?” Viktor offered haphazardly, waving his now freed hand to emphasize his words.
Vi’s sturdy fist bumped into Viktor’s shoulder gently, a nervous chuckle slipping out of her throat.
“You’re the best wingman I could ever ask for.”
Her words dripped with sarcasm, but she was quickly stunned into silence as the gate swung open, players from both teams filtering through in filthy green and burgundy uniforms. Some went to the bathroom, others went feral for the snack bar, and the rest meandered either alone or in small cliques.
It was almost too good to be true when midnight blue hair was sashaying toward the two of them, Kiramann’s pale cheeks pink with adrenaline and uniform caked with dirt and grass stains.
“Oh my god,” Vi whispered under her breath, the cold air not allowing her to be discreet as her words puffed out as vapor in front of her.
The girl stopped across from an almost entirely red Vi, who was suddenly forgetting how to breathe, speak, and act like a normal human being. Viktor could hardly stifle his giggle.
“Hi,” Kiramann offered, a small smile playing on her delicate lips. “...Do I know you?”
The question didn’t come out as rude, but as more of a genuine curiosity. Vi gulped, and tried her best to smile less awkwardly.
“Well, no, uh – You did a – Good game!” Vi blurted, fighting the urge to cover her mouth to stop herself from talking more.
This earned a playful giggle from the other girl, who’s eyes weren’t even trying to hide the fact that she was checking out Vi and her well-maintained physique, which was obvious even under the layers of Academy colored clothes.
“Thank you. My name’s Caitlyn, by the way.” Her long, dark eyelashes bobbed up and down as her eyes continued examining while she spoke, a British accent making her even more enchanting than before. “You are?”
Vi cleared her throat, trying to steady her nerves as she introduced herself in response.
Their words faded into the sound of the constantly growing crowd that had gathered under the bleachers then, and Viktor had no desire to be a third wheel in the middle of all the ruckus, so he and his cane headed toward the exit and into the parking lot where people were dispersing. Finally able to breathe again, he spotted a stretch of grass with a single tree running along the side of the field’s fence. It was far enough away from the separating crowd for him to be comfortable, but close enough that he could still see Vi when she inevitably arrived to find him. He feared that it would be a long while until that happened, and shivered as he headed in that direction.
The crowd in the parking lot was dwindling, and as an achy Viktor struggled to arrive at his chosen spot, a foot stuck out from beside him and tripped him, effectively sending him into the pavement below. A shockwave of pain traveled up and throughout his entire body as his knees collided with the concrete. Viktor’s hands splayed out in front of him in a desperate effort to catch himself before his face made it to the pavement in suit, palms scraping sharply against the cold ground below.
“What the fuck –?!” Viktor cursed loudly, on all fours and his face contorted with anger.
The absurd scarf tightened around him as he was briefly lifted off the ground from the front of his hoodie by an impossibly strong fist before being tossed backwards, feeling the grass scraping below him now and the unforgiving trunk of the tree slamming against his delicate back.
“What the fuck is right,” the angry voice above him mocked, the brightness of the parking lot flood lights blinding Viktor temporarily and shielding him from seeing exactly who his attacker was. But what he could see clearly was the dirty Piltover jersey. “What the fuck is a disgusting Zaunite doing at our school’s game?”
Mischievous laughter surrounded Viktor as his heart began to pound violently against his rib cage, eyes darting away only to see the number of Piltover lacrosse jerseys growing rapidly around him and the tree.
“I go to school here, fuck face,” Viktor spat, his Czech accent jumbling his words as it mixed with adrenaline. He had tried and failed to keep down his temper, and the exhaustion was slowly slipping away from him.
The student in front of him reached forward and grabbed Viktor aggressively by the jaw, leaning forward enough to reveal Marcus’ angry face and dark short hair, now visible with the bright lights drowning out everything else behind him. Viktor only knew of him because Vi had recently pointed out that he was the lacrosse team captain, and he had a reputation for being a huge pain in everyone’s ass at the Academy, which included picking a fight with Vi at the beginning of the school year. She had gossiped that his parents were rich and he got away with a lot.
“Call me that again, I dare you,” Marcus growled, and the troupe of players that had gathered started cooing deliriously.
“I’d actually like to see what you do about it, fuck fa –.”
Viktor couldn’t even get the words fully out before Marcus released his jaw to land a swift punch into his abdomen instead, immediately forcing all the air from his body and knocking the wind out of him.
Everyone, including Marcus, paused as a deafening cracking sound came from the trunk of the tree behind a wheezing Viktor, a huge gash suddenly forming from the bottom and crawling its way up to the very top of the trunk, similar to a tree that had just been struck by lightning. Except this night was clear, not a single cloud in the sky, and no storm gathering above. No lightning. The top half of the tree creaked and groaned as the players collectively gasped, the wood gasping in tandem while slowly leaning forward, threatening to collapse on top of them. The fence on the other side was visible through the large split in the trunk.
Through the pain and loss of oxygen, Viktor was overcome by ice cold fear.
Fear of himself.
“Hey, what’re you – ?! Get away from there,” an unfamiliar voice in the distance called, dominant and concerned.
The attention of the players all turned toward the sound, as they quickly began to filter away from the tree that seemed to only be hanging on by a thread. Marcus backed away and approached the new challenger, mostly out of fear of the tree falling on him, and through the ethereal flood lights Viktor watched him come face to face with number thirteen: Talis.
“You have a problem with the way I’m acting, golden boy?”
Talis’ tan and chiseled features were illuminated by the bright lights around them, and as Viktor gazed up at him it was much more intriguing to watch him make decisions from here than it was on that stupid lacrosse field. Golden hazel eyes flashed from Marcus to Viktor, then stayed settled on Viktor’s assaulter.
“He didn’t do anything to you,” Talis snarled, his dark brown eyebrows gathered together at the center of his forehead. “Leave him alone.”
As he was catching his breath, Viktor glared angrily at the standoff before him, wondering how he even got there in the first place and cradling his throbbing abdomen. Rage and fear boiled inside of him as the events replayed over and over in his mind.
The two players squared up to each other, and Marcus’ lips curled into a playful grin.
“Awe, c’mon Jayce. I was just messing around!” Marcus’ large arm suddenly swung out and wrapped itself around Talis’ – Jayce’s – broad shoulders, a hearty laugh escaping the assailant’s treacherous mouth. “You gotta’ stop being so serious all the time, man.”
Eyebrows gathered further across his tan, wrinkling forehead, and Jayce attempted to protest but was once again shut down. He hesitantly allowed himself to be pulled closer to Marcus as they began to turn and walk in the opposite direction of Viktor, who was still heaving difficult breaths against the broken and splintered trunk of the once flawless tree. Jayce glanced back at the tree quickly, something similar to concern glowing in his eyes as they got farther away.
“Viktor!!”
Pink hair was unmistakable as Vi appeared on the other side of the exit, and she was urgently running toward him as fast as she could. Viktor turned back toward Marcus and Jayce, who were already across the parking lot and almost out of sight, distant burgundy and white dots, with Jayce still under the other’s controlling arm. His lips cracked into a disgusted, angry snarl as he watched them disappear.
Vi slid to a stop and was carefully scooping Viktor up off of the grass and leading him away from the tree that was ready to give up at any moment.
“What the hell happened? Who’s ass do I need to be kicking right now?!” Her rage was apparent, accompanied by the heavy vapor clouds in front of her that seemed to have come from the very bottom of her lungs.
Viktor uneasily shook his head as she was handing him his cane. The exhaustion, discomfort, and pain was more than overbearing, and all he wanted to do in that moment was curl up into a ball and disappear – Either that or make Marcus suffer.
“I… I don’t…” He couldn’t manage anything further, his breath still caught in his throat that was now a dreadful cocktail mixed with his emotions, which oscillated from rage to shock, back and forth. Viktor’s eyes darted to the tree again, a shockwave crawling up his spine at the sight of what he knew was his fault. He attempted to hide the horrified look on his paler than usual face.
“I’m so sorry, Viktor… I should have stayed with you after the game.”
With legs made of lead, Viktor turned and wearily began walking through the parking lot, Vi following closely and cautiously behind. He waved her off with a frustrated and shaky grunt, holding tightly onto his cane with his other hand.
“It’s not your fault. No matter what, they’ll never see us as anything more than filthy Zaunites.” He winced at his words, golden eyes haunting his thoughts as the pain and anger coursed through his body.
Behind them, a loud crack and heavy thud echoed as the top of the tree finally collapsed to the ground below.