Viktor isn’t used to this—this quiet, uneasy stillness between you two.

There’s usually something filling the air: sharp words, heated debates, the kind of back-and-forth that sparks like flint against steel. You’ve never seen eye to eye, not when it came to Hextech, not with Jayce in the mix, and definitely not when it came to each other.

But now? Now there’s nothing. No witty remarks, no pointed jabs. Just awkward silence.

It’s unsettling, and Viktor hates it more than he cares to admit. Somewhere along the way, the arguments lost their edge, and the space between you began to shift. It wasn’t the debates that wore him down—it was you. Or rather, the way his focus on you changed.

He finds himself watching you more, paying attention in ways he didn’t before. He notices when you overwork yourself, the way exhaustion settles in your features. He catches himself holding back when he wants to call you reckless, as if the words might cut too deep now. And he hates how much it bothers him, how much he… cares.

Emotions are distractions. Love? Even worse. Viktor knows this. It’s a lesson he’s lived by. Progress has no room for personal entanglements. But here he is, caught in the undertow, falling for the one person he’s supposed to be challenging—not cherishing.

He grips his cane, eyes narrowing as he watches you hunched over your latest project. The faint light from the tools casts shadows across your face. The sight twists something in his chest.

He sighs softly and moves closer, leaning against the edge of the table. “You have been at this all day,” he says calmly. His gaze lingers on your face, searching for any sign that you’ve heard him. “You should rest. I can help take care of whatever it is you are working on.”

It’s practical advice, sure. But it’s also something else—a quiet offer, an unspoken way of saying he cares. He knows you’ll probably brush him off, and maybe that’s for the best. But part of him hopes, just this once, you’ll let him take over—not for Hextech’s sake, but for yours.