To your surprise, once you reached the grand spiralling staircase that spanned the length of the giant building, Viktor led you up, not down.

"Where are we going?" you asked after an ungodly amount of flights, trying to not sound as breathless as you felt.

You swore that if you looked out a window at that point, you would look down upon the clouds you were so high up. Still, even at that level a steady stream of students and scholars ascended and descended the stairs, ducking through doors and chattering in alcoves.

They parted around Viktor like a hand through water, obviously aware of his status. Meanwhile, they eyed you inquisitively, gaze lingering for just a second too long. You could almost sense the question hidden behind their gaze: who is that?

"You'll see," came Viktor's reply. He strode a few steps ahead, surprisingly fast regardless of his cane. You hurried to keep up, taking the steps two at a time. "It's worth it."

At last the staircase began to narrow, the pedestrians ducking off onto other floors, until there wasn't enough room to walk side by side. The interior had shed its grandeur the further you ascended, until only wavering sconces lined the walls.

It took you a moment to register that he had finally stopped. You had been steps away from crashing into him, too lost in your thoughts to notice until the last moment.

You leant against the wall, huffing. There wasn't enough room to look and see what Viktor was doing. He rummaged in his pockets for something.

A jangle of keys. A creak of wood. A rush of cold air.

Viktor stepped through the doorway, and you followed, blinking against the sudden bright sunlight. Once your eyes had adjusted, you looked up and gasped.

The door opened onto a rooftop - the roof of the Academy. A simple, waist high wall surrounded the large rectangular perimeter. Even though an area such as this was hardly seen by many, swirling floral patterns had been carved into the stone.

But it wasn't the architecture that rendered you speechless; it was the view.

From up there you could see all of Piltover. A sea of blue rooftops stretched out before you, cresting and falling like waves. You couldn't tell where the buildings ended and the sky began, save for a shimmering line of silver between: the sea.

Wind whipped at your hair. You were so impossibly high up. You felt as if you could reach up, up, up to the sky, and your hand would come away stained with blue.

Airships milled about, ferrying to and from the city. Their musical jangle of equipment met with your ears even from such a distance. Below, you head the faint murmur of civilisation: a mix of a million memories and emotions and lives merged into a single, bubbling hum.

Only a smudge of smoke against the watery blue sky suggested the existence of the Undercity. Like fingers of a gnarled hand, plumes of smoke reached out from the smog, grasping at the remains of the day.

You gaped unashamedly. There was so much to see, so much to take in. You felt you could've stood for hours, unmoving, basking in the beauty of it all.

"Wow," you finally said, your words tinged with a laugh. "This is... wow."

Viktor, whilst you had stood awestruck, had ambled over to the wall. He leaned against it, cane resting against a leg, arms folded against the cold.

"I thought you might like it up here," he said, "seeing as landscape art seem to be an interest of yours."

"It's incredible." You walked to stand beside him, resting your arms on the parapet and chancing a glance down. The drop was perilous. Little ant-like specks of people milled about far, far below. You felt your legs wobble, and looked away.

"How come there aren't more people here?" you asked. "Surely somewhere like this would be a nice place to sit and work or eat, or whatever."

"You'd think so," he said. He turned so that he, too, faced the city. "But access to here is restricted. I have a key, though I'm not sure who else does. To most it is off limits."

"I wonder why."

He shrugged. "I suppose scholars have little use for good views."

For a while you both stood in comfortable silence, admiring the expansive view and pretending to ignore the cold. It was a stark, fresh day, where the sky was pale and the air was ever so slightly too cold to be pleasant.

You noticed his gaze lingered on the grimy streak of the Undercity in the distance. He stared at it with an emotion you couldn't place. Creased brow. Heavy eyes. A shadow passed over his features, but it was gone so quick you wondered if it was a mere trick of the light.

You wanted to inquire, but knew it wasn't your business. You clamped your jaw against the question fluttering behind your lips.

Your gaze wandered to the skies, where fluffy wisps of clouds lazily meandered towards the horizon, unfazed by the impending threat of sunset.

"That one looks like a flower," you said absently.

Viktor blinked, casting frown at you. "What?"

"That flower. Up there. It looks like a flower. See?" You pointed. "The leaves are there, and the petals... "

He craned his neck to look. After a moment, he hummed, smiling. "Heh. It does. And that one-" He raised an extended finger. "That looks like... a cloud," he finished lamely.

You snorted. "Very observant."

This started a game of some sorts. One of you would point out a cloud that looked like a person, or a dragon, or a sword or a glass, and more often than not the other would disagree, sparking a lighthearted debate full of avid pointing and 'Look! See?'s. After a while, even if it was as clear as day what the what the floating thing looked like, you both disagreed just for the sake of it.

"That one looks like a face," Viktor said. He had rested his chin on his fist, arms folded on the wall.

"Which one?"

"That one. Just passing above the market."

You squinted. "It looks like a sheep."

"It does not."

"Does so. It's got the wool and everything."

"That's because it's a- How on earth do you see a sheep?"

"How on earth do you see a face?" you countered.

He pointed, meticulously plotting it out, but you stayed set to what you saw, finding it funny how insistent he got.

After nearly ten minutes spent on the face-vs-sheep debate, he sighed, feigning frustration, and reached for your hand. You froze. He hesitated.

"Could I...?" he asked, suddenly quiet. You had to strain to hear him over the ambience of the city as it awoke for nighttime.

Your surprise rendered you wordless. Some part of you managed a nod.

He gently took your hand in his. You stilled, conscious of every acute movement, as he angled it towards the sky with his atop yours. He tilted his head close to yours, eye to eye, shoulder to shoulder.

"See?" he said, tracing the outline of the cloud with your layered index fingers. "It's a side profile. There's the eyes... then the nose... and the jaw."

"Ah," you breathed. It was only then that you noticed you'd been holding your breath. "I see it now."

He chuckled lightly. "I told you so."

You turned your head a fraction, and suddenly became aware of how close you two were. Very close. Your noses were a whisper away from touching. A centimetre closer and...

He glanced to you, noticing your gaze had been averted, eyebrows raising ever so slightly. Maybe it was the sheer proximity, but you swore you saw a small smile ghost his lips. His eyes were bright, warm. The colour of sun-dappled caramel.

He blinked.

You looked away.

Both of you took a step back, hands separating. The moment broken like glass by a flutter of eyelashes.

You tried to convince yourself that the warmth rising in your cheeks was due to the bitter breeze. Definitely not because of...

Viktor cleared his throat. He seemed apparently engrossed in the stonework of the wall, his chin buried in the collar of his coat. The cold seemed to be affecting him as well; his face was tinted an ungainly pink. Definitely not because of...

Whatever that had been.

You still felt the ghost of his touch on the back of your hand. You shoved it in your pocket, balling up the fabric inside into your fist.

You exhaled, and your breath formed in front of you in a wavering cloud.

"I should be getting back inside," Viktor said, hand fidgeting with the head of his cane. "I still have some jobs I need to attend to."

His sentence dwindled into a murmur. He chanced a look at you. You hoped your face wasn't as violently red as it felt.

"I won't keep you from them, then," you said.

You lingered as he relocked the door, unsure if his comment had been intended to end the conversation, or bring it inside.

The walk downstairs was quiet, save for the tap-tap of your footsteps and his cane. Most people had left as the sky began to grow dark; you passed only a few who, too, were on their way down. You noticed, though Viktor walked in front, he often slowed and checked back to make sure you kept up with his pace.

It wasn't until you had reached the floor of the laboratory that Viktor spoke. When he did, he slowed considerably, jaunty stride shortening into an ambling tread, as if suddenly conscious of how close you two were to parting.

"Jayce keeps insisting I take more breaks," he said. "He says he's concerned with how much time I spend working but..." He finished with a shrug.

You blinked, unsure of where he was going with the odd comment. Still, you were grateful for the break in the silence, which had began to grow strained.

"How often do you have a day off?" you asked,more to keep the conversation going than out of interest.

He hummed in thought, expression ever so slightly pained. "This is may be my first break today... or this week, or since..." His brow furrowed. "I can't remember."

You frowned. "In which case, I insist you take more breaks, too."

Viktor grinned bashfuly. "Eh. Personally, I don't feel the need to, but Jayce very annoying in his persistence, and frankly I'd be getting more done if it weren't for his nattering." He stepped to the side, allowing a student to pass, and waited for the to disappear before continuing. "So I've decided to take Tuesday afternoons off, though still intend to work, just not... here. I figured I might instead spend them at..." He took a moment too long to decide upon the correct word. "... the spot."

"With the cogs and the stream?"

"Yes."

"So your spot?"

"Or your spot, yes."

The word 'our' hung in the air between you. Neither had the courage to reach out and speak it.

"So is that a remark?" you asked goadingly, raising an eyebrow, "or an invitation?"

His eyes diverted to the tiles lining the floor, but you caught a flash of a small smile. "It is whatever you want it to be."

You pretended to think, allowing a pause in the conversations. "Tuesday afternoons, wasn't it?" you finally said.

He nodded.

"I think I'm free then."

"And is that a remark?" he asked, then stopped. You had reached the doors to the lab. His hand hovered over the doorknob, but he didn't move turn it. He looked over his shoulder to you. "Or a yes?"

You shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though couldn't help grinning. "I suppose we'll see."