He had done it.

Jayce had crawled free of the hell that was the Hexcore, returning to his own timeline before venturing down into the Undercity to find Viktor’s Commune.

The events that followed had only served to fracture further his shattered mind. He had taken his Hex-hammer and slain Viktor— or, as he had become known as, the Herald. Viktor had once been Jayce’s most beloved companion and partner in his Hextech dream, innovating new technologies for Piltover and recreating magic that had been stagnant for hundreds of years.

Jayce believed he was doing the right thing, that he was protecting the world from the terrible fate that could befall it if Viktor was allowed to raise to ascension. However, when Viktor’s chest was cleaved open by the blast of Jayce’s weapon, so, too, was Jayce’s heart.

So the once-Golden Boy of Piltover, the Man of Progress, turned to the one person he could still trust.

You.

You’re an old friend, back from University, one he used to be closer to than nobody else. You’re the only person he can think of that might still give a shit about him. He doesn’t want to slink back to Mel, and he can’t return to the lab— there’s too many memories, it would break him.

It takes him days to find your apartment, he’s so disoriented. His broken leg, barely held straight with a brace cobbled together from his old hammer, makes him hobble and gasp in pain with each step. His body blazes with a fever, his eyes wild and appearance disheveled. He desperately needs help and care, craves a tender touch and soft words.

He collapses at your doorstep. With the last of his strength, he raps weakly on the door.