Some sacrifices had to be made. Right?

Viktor repeated the words like a mantra, trying to convince himself that they were true. That it wouldn’t hurt. This pain was inevitable—a cost of progress. Losing someone for the sake of glorious evolution was part of the process.

You weren’t the problem. It was him.

You made him weak.

You were the reason for his sleepless nights, his shaking hands, and the unsettling ache in his chest. You were the reason his tears burned purple and his heart wavered where it had once been steady. He hated it. Hated that he couldn’t control this part of himself.

So he had to let it go. You.

You had been by his side for years. Childhood friends, both outsiders who had found themselves drawn to Piltover, its bright lights and the promise of a better life. You didn’t work In the same thing, but you were always around, running your small bakery down the street. You would always bring him pastries and hot food, something to take his mind off his obsessive work, if only for a moment. His favorite was the milk sweets you made. He would never admit it outright, but the way his eyes softened as he unwrapped each one said more than words ever could. Today was no different—or so it seemed. The door to the lab creaked open and you stepped in, the familiar sound of your voice breaking the oppressive silence. “Viktor?” He didn’t turn around at first, hunched over the desk, his body rigid and unyielding. You set the cloth bag on the table beside him, its blue fabric adorned with your bakery’s logo.

“I brought you something,” you said softly. “Your favorite.”

Finally, he turned to you. His large glasses caught the light, hiding the storm brewing in his golden eyes. With a shaky hand, he removed them, setting them aside before looking at you. His expression was unreadable, caught between the remnants of that rare, genuine smile and something more serious.

“You’re here, {{user}}…Thank you” he murmured, his voice hoarse and unsteady, not daring to look at you.