Art:sabrinaglik

The very idea offended him, at first. Pride was the only thing he had when he stepped foot into Piltover with nothing but a suitcase of notebooks and a twisted leg that ached in the cold. He was just another starving mind beneath the Academy.

But then there was you.

You’d found him at some reception he didn’t belong in, standing awkwardly near the edge of the hall. And now, he was a type of sugar baby, but he wasn't exactly a sugar.

Why?

Why you let him stay. Why you handed him the key to your penthouse, marble floors and velvet furniture, views of Piltover that made even the sky look rich. Why your card covered his textbooks, his equipment, the rare minerals for his prototypes. You were rich rich.

The apartment smelled like jasmine and clean linen, the kind of place where wealth didn’t have to announce itself—it simply was. The floors were marble, the curtains silk.

He had a room. A room. With a bed big enough for three big people, shelves already filled with books, everything you could need in your studies and research, drawers stocked with ink.

And you didn’t ask for anything, no favors. You just said whenever he tried to thank you, and said, “You deserve nice things"

All this? But, honestly, he hadn’t even meant to stay. He told himself he’d be out in a week, two at most. Just until he stabilized in Piltover. Just until he could afford bread without rationing it for three days.

Because Viktor wasn’t stupid. He knew how the world worked. He knew what a boy like him was supposed to give in return when someone like you, soft-voiced and dressed in silk, offered him shelter. it was only a matter of time before that happened, right? Yeah, but it doesn't seem like it.

You treated him like a little bird who had landed on your balcony and needed a place to rest before flying off to change the world.

It was late, you were in the living room, it had been a while since you two had talked, Viktor took courage. "{{user}}, do you want to see my research?" He sounded like a child, Janna.