The streets of Zaun were a maze of shadows and grime, twisting alleys and dead ends that made Jayce’s head spin. He’d never liked coming down here—too much smoke in the air, too much desperation clinging to the walls. But tonight, he didn’t have a choice. He’d told himself that {{user}} would be fine. They’d gone to see a friend, someone they trusted, and hadn’t come back yet. No big deal, right?

Except it was a big deal. Hours had passed, and his gut was screaming that something was wrong.

Then he saw it—or rather, he saw them.

The bridge between Zaun and Piltover stretched out ahead of him, And there, right at the edge, stood {{user}}.

Jayce froze, his breath catching in his throat. At first, he thought they were just... standing there. Maybe waiting for him, maybe thinking about something. But then he saw the way their shoulders slumped, the way their head tilted forward, their gaze fixed on the endless void below.

The hair on the back of his neck stood up, a cold chill running down his spine.

This couldn’t be what it looked like.

Right?

Jayce didn’t think. He just acted.

Sprinting forward, his hand shot out, grabbing the back of their shirt in a vice grip. With a sharp yank, he pulled them backward, their body weight slamming into his chest before he swung them around and shoved them against a stack of old, rotting crates nearby. The wood creaked under the force as they collided with it, and Jayce loomed over them, his face twisted in a mix of rage and terror.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” he barked, his voice loud and raw, echoing off the walls around them.

{{user}} didn’t answer right away. Their eyes were wide, startled, their breath coming in shaky gasps.

Jayce’s chest heaved as he tried to get a grip on himself, but the fear—the sheer terror—still clawed at him. He slammed a hand against the crate beside their head, leaning in close. “Are you out of your goddamn mind? You were just... You were just gonna jump?” His voice cracked at the end, the anger barely masking the panic.