This was the most terrifying thing you'd ever done.

Forget traversing through the Undercity, or getting beat up by thugs, or getting godsdamned kidnapped. No, social events were officially your No. 1 biggest fear.

You stood huddled in a corner, practically penned in by attendees in crisp suits and flowing gowns. You clung onto the stem of a slender champagne glass like a lifeline. You'd been handed it as you entered, took a sip, and declared it the foulest thing you'd ever tasted - you were slowly working on pouring it little by little into a nearby plant pot.

You tugged at your clothing, longing for some cool air. You'd chosen to wear The gala was held in a giant, cavernous room, impossibly huge - and yet somehow intolerably stuffy. The air was thick with a thousand variations of perfumes and colognes, combined with the heady scent of expensive alcohol and the sort of smell that could only be described as 'rich people'. It made your head hurt and you feel slightly not real, as if you were watching your life through a warped window.

Chandeliers hung from the ceiling like pearls from a rich woman's neck, casting the room in a flickering, golden glow. Somewhere, tucked behind the mass of bejewelled and satin-clad bodies was a string quartet, although its pitch melodies were drowned out by the constant hatter and tink! of glassware.

Across the room, you saw Jayce in a crowd of important-looking people. You caught his eye and he raised his eyebrows, a silent question. You shrugged and shook your head. No Viktor. He made to walk over to you, but was intercepted by someone and roped into a conversation.

You sighed and poured the rest of your drink into the plant pot. You'd had enough. You needed a break. You spotted a door to outside - a balcony, you presumed - and, after abounding your empty glass on by an ornamental vase, slipped out of the room.

As expected, the doorway lead onto a balcony offering an expanse view of the city. In the dark, you couldn't tell the difference between the stars and illuminated windows and streetlights; a wall of night sky. You were alone.

The fresh night air, still lukewarm from the day's heat, was a relief after the hot, stuffy atmosphere of the ball. You breathed in a lungful and leaned your elbows on the balustrade, resting your face in your hands. What were you doing here? You didn't belong in places like that, with people like that, who bought jewelry expensive enough to pay your rent for the rest of your life.

Was it really worth enduring just to see some guy that literally a week ago said he never wanted to see you again? Looking at it like that, it was futile. Pointless.

Just as you'd made your mind up, that yes, this was stupud, you should go home and just forget this all happened, you heard footsteps behind you. No- not just footsteps. The sound of steps... and a cane.

"Y/N?"

You turned. Viktor stood in the doorway, surprise evident on his face. He wore a half-hearted attempt at formal attire, a black tie messily tied at his shirt collar, a slightly too-big suit jacket slung over his usual work clothes. The light from the city behind you lit up his eyes, making them seem as if they held the night sky, bright and beautiful.

You didn't know how long the two of you gawked at one another - seconds, minutes, hours. Finally, you broke the silence by saying, softly, "Viktor."

For a moment, you thought you saw him shiver, although it wasn't cold.

He took a step forwards, hesitant, uncertain you wanted him there. You did. You hated to admit how grateful you were to see him. You stepped to the side to make room, and he came to stand next to you.

You managed to smile. There was this look in his eye, something intense, almost fixated on you, like he wasn't entirely certain you weren't a figment of his imagination.

"You're here," he said softly, as if he might speak too loud and shatter the fragility of the moment.

He looked as if he might ask why or how, buy instead, he took a breath.

"I'm sorry," he said, the words coming out so quick you didn't understand them at first. "I'm sorry for- for everything I did. I was rash and impulsive and I should have thought it through before speaking, and I only ever had your wellbeing in mind after everything that's happened because- because you matter a lot to me- so much to me. And that's where I went wrong, because I was so focused on how you were that I didn't take time to think about how you were." He frowned. "That doesn't make sense," he mumbled, then let out a self-conscious laugh.

You were stunned, unable to comprehend his words for a long moment (partially because of how quickly he'd spoken, but also partially because what the fuck??!). You realised then you probably should've prepared something to say. You hadn't thought past the meeting-him part of it.

"I acted badly, too. I should've listened to you, but I was so... I let my emotions control me, and didn't reason with it all. You had good intentions, and I appreciate that so, so much. You perhaps could've elaborated a bit more but..." You shook your head. "Forget it. You're too- wonderful for your own right, and you don't have to apologise for doing the right thing."

It seemed for a moment both of you had forgotten how to speak. All that seemed to exist was him and you and the stars and his eyes. From within the hall, someone gave a (potentially drunken) hoot of laughter, and the moment was shattered. You btoh looked away self-consciously.

"How did you get here?" he asked, not looking at you.

"Through the door," you said dryly. He smiled. "No, I was invited as a plus-one..."

"By Jayce?"

You raised your eyebrows. "How did you guess?"

"He's the one who forced me to attend, too." He gave his tie an uncomfortable tug. "Wrestled me into this thing. I was going to opt out anyway, but... eh, I thought there might be something he was planning. If only he was as good at organising his work as he was at scheming."

"Careful now," you said. "We don't want too many geniuses in the world."

He smiled at that - at you. You felt oddly giddied by it, as if someone had let loose a jar of butterflies within your stomach.

The string quartet from inside struck up a slow, elaborate tune and you saw silhouettes of couples flock to the dance floor in the centre of the room, joining together in waltz-holds. You were struck by an idea. Perhaps it was the few sips of that foul drink fuelling you, but you felt uncharacteristically bold.

You mocked a bow and extended an arm. "May I have this dance?" you asked, grinning.

"I'd love to-" He looked eager for a second, but seemed to stop himself. "But I can't," he said, eyes flickering ruefully to his cane.

You waved a dismissive hand. "Half the people in there are too drunk to stand, let alone dance, but they're doing it anyway. Come on. If you're bad at it, I can assure you I'm even worse."

He deliberated for a moment, then gave an emphatic sigh. "Alright. Just don't step on my feet."

"I promise."

You both shuffled awkwardly for a second, trying to figure out how to get into a suitable hold. Eventually, it ended up with each of your hands atop his cane, yours over his, and his other hand tentatively on your waist. Your hand rested on his shoulder.

"I should warn you I've never done this before," he said with a bashful laugh.

"Neither have I."

"Oh Gods."

You were both naturally terrible at first, bumping chest when one of you went the wrong way, narrowly avoiding crushing the other's foot, being too focusing on your footing to notice the ceramic plant pot you were about to crash into.

You felt conscious of every minute detail - his shifting grip in your waist; the weight of his hand against you, covered only by a thin layer of fabric; the coolness of his hand seeping into your skin; each bumpy, rounded knuckle under your palm. You acutely observed that, for someone was work so often with metal and fire and magic, his hands was so smooth. You were aware that you were blushing violently, and hoped he was too focused to notice.

Still, neither of you took it seriously, and by the time the tune came to an end you were breathless with laughter. You leant your forehead against his shoulder with an overexaggerated half-sigh half-groan, smiling and trying to catch your breath.

"Gods, you are awful," he said. You heard the smile in his voice.

"Says you. I think I'm going to need surgery after the amount of times you trod on my feet. They're practically mangled."

You were so close, you felt his soft laughs echo within his chest. When you moved back, bright grin still etched into your face, he was looking at you.

His eyes flickered down. Just for a second. Something fluttered in your chest. Subconsciously, you moved just a little closer. Close enough to count each eyelash, each individual strand of hair that fell across his forehead, each star reflected in his dark eyes.

You slowly let go of his hand atop the cane and trailed yours up his arm, to his shoulder, then his neck, then finally to cup his cheek. He stilled, holding his breath, then gradually, hesitantly, leaned his face into your touch. Possessed by some being much more confident, much more bold than you, you ran your thumb under his eye, along his cheekbone.

He looked completely and utterly enraptured. It left you breathless.

His free hand had come to rest in your waist, his other snaking further up your back, tracing each ridge of your spine. He moved with such delicacy, as if a touch too hard might cause you to crumble. You felt his heartbeat against your chest, as rapid and fluttering as yours

Your thoughts were simultaneously silent and screaming. You were there. Under the stars. In his arms. About to-

You shut your eyes, leaned in, and-

"Ah, Viktor!"

You both broke apart as if struck by lightning. Viktor stumbled and narrowly caught himself on his cane. You were still reeling, unable to comprehend what had just happened- what had nearly happened.

Professor Heimerdinger entered into the balcony, trailed by a few attendees and Council members. You caught sight of Jayce amongst the pack. His eyes darted back and forth between you and Viktor, who had come to stand a considerable distance apart from each other, as if complete strangers. He raised his eyebrows and gave an uncharacteristically subtle thumbs-up, for once.

Heimerdinger was talking to Viktor, who was blinking slowly and had a dazed look to him.

"I was hoping if you could say a few words on the matter," the rodent-y man-thing was jabbering out about. "There's lots of people very interested in the matter - the Hexgates, I mean. After all, this will be a revolutionary benefit to Piltover's trade, not just.."

He caught sight of you, lingering yu the side. You hoped you didn't look as flustered as you felt.

"Ah," he said carefully. "I hope I am not interrupting anything..?"

You and Viktor exchanged a glance, then both spoke at once: "No, no, of course not, Professor-" and "By no means, carry on, please-"

He did not look convinced. Still, he said, "Then I hope you won't mind me borrowing you for a few minutes, just to talk to a few people."

You could've screamed.

As the party exited, Viktor gently grabbed your elbow.

"Wait for me by the lab," he whispered, mouth close enough to your ear to send chills down your spine. "I'll be as quick as I can."

You bet your desperate ass that you fucking ran to that lab.

that stuff~ held handsEw

technicalllyyyy