Chapter Text
The large chalkboard in the lecture hall was cluttered with complicated equations. Dean Heimerdinger stood on a platform as he wrote one last lengthy equation before grabbing the lever. He cranked it repeatedly, slowly coming down. Then, he stepped off the platform to face the expectant class. You struggled to solve the equation in your notebook as your boyfriend sitting next to you relaxed back in his chair with his arms tucked behind his head. A few rows beneath the two of you was the new student from the Undercity, rapidly writing in his notebook. He was rumored to be a genius that Heimerdinger handpicked. He spoke to no one and kept his distance from everyone.
“Now,” Heimerdinger said, voice upbeat. “Does anyone think they can solve this equation?”
“I can,” your boyfriend said, raising his hand.
“Alright, Barrett,” Heimerdinger responded. “Come up here and show us how to solve it.”
The blonde young man stood up and walked down the stairs to meet Heimerdinger at the chalkboard. He gave him a piece of chalk and then observed him with his hands clasped behind his back. You watched Barrett attack the board with the chalk, little bits breaking off and falling. He was the youngest son of the esteemed Walters family and had a reputation to uphold. When he finished, he stepped back with a smug smirk. Heimerdinger came closer and looked up to review his work while holding his furry chin.
“Oh, I’m afraid that’s not quite right,” Heimerdinger said, sympathetic. “But it was a good effort nonetheless.”
“What?” Barrett said, turning toward Heimerdinger. “It’s right.”
“I suggest you check your math.”
“My math is perfect.”
“Pride is the enemy of progress, my dear boy,” Heimerdinger lightly scolded him. “We can learn a great deal from our mistakes.”
Barrett threw the chalk piece at the floor before returning to his seat. He leaned back with his arms folded over his chest. You put a gentle hand on his arm to offer him some comfort.
“It’s okay,” you whispered. “You tried.”
“I was right,” Barrett argued. “I don’t care what Heimerdinger says— He’s too old to know what he’s talking about.”
“Barrett,” you scolded in a whisper. “Stop.”
Heimerdinger turned to face the class again, his hands clasped behind his back as Barrett brooded. He had some promise as a scientist, but his ego prevented his improvement.
“Would anyone else like to come up and solve this equation?” Heimerdinger asked the class. “Anyone at all?”
The class was silent and too afraid to attempt to solve what seemed impossible. Then, a pale hand below you raised halfway with some hesitation, unconfident.
“…I could give it a try,” the student said quietly.
Rising from his seat, the brown-haired young man grasped his cane and carefully descended the stairs. Every step he took looked like it took a considerable amount of effort. He was frail and lanky compared to your muscular boyfriend. He leaned down to pick up the piece of chalk and wiped away Barrett’s incorrect math with his sleeve. The chalk then gilded across the board with grace and elegance. All eyes were on him, but he remained focused. You were captivated by how he made solving equations seem like an art form. When he finished, he glazed over his work as Heimerdinger came closer to review it.
“Very good, Viktor,” Heimerdinger praised him. “I didn’t think anyone would be able to solve it— you are quite exceptional.”
Viktor lowered his head and kept his back to the class with some embarrassment. He was not used to praise, nor did he care for it. However, he knew that Heimerdinger was only trying to encourage him. Barrett kept his arms crossed and scowled at the back of Viktor’s head. You glanced over at him and knew he was seething with rage. When class was over, everyone was dismissed and went to their next class. In the afternoon, the two young men met again in the hallway on the way to their lectures. Barrett blocked Viktor’s path and folded his arms while looking straight at him.
“Well, look who it is,” Barrett said sarcastically. “Heimerdinger’s cripple prodigy from the Undercity.”
Viktor looked into his green-blue eyes without a change in his expression. Those insults were all too familiar and expected at this point.
“Is there something you need?” Viktor asked, voice calm.
Barrett stared at Viktor with his mouth curling upward into a little smirk. He would never need anything from someone so beneath him.
“Not a thing.”
Viktor attempted to go around Barrett, but Barrett stepped to the side with ease to block his path again. Viktor kept his head lowered to think before meeting Barrett’s piercing gaze.
“Do you have a problem with me?”
Barrett let out a breathless chuckle before stepping forward to intimidate Viktor. The other students in the hallway saw the confrontation but chose to keep walking.
“Yeah, I do,” Barrett responded, snarky and spiteful. “Why don’t you go back to where you came from and quit stinking up Piltover.”
Viktor turned his head to the side with a breathless chuckle of his own before turning back toward Barrett. His ignorance was astounding, given his supposed intelligence.
“First of all, I do not stink,” Viktor said firmly. “It is a common misconception that everyone from the Undercity is unhygienic. Second of all, no.”
“No?”
“I was invited to attend the academy,” Viktor continued, calm and collected. “And last I checked, incoming students do not need your approval. Correct?”
Barrett picked up Viktor’s sarcastic tone and knit his brow while keeping his arms crossed. Viktor’s mouth curled upward in a little smirk, proud of himself for his clever comeback.
“You’re a real smartass, aren’t you?”
“Ehh… I prefer the term ‘quick-witted.’ ”
A sudden rage took over Barrett and went straight to his fists. He punched Viktor hard enough to knock him off balance. His weakened body hit the hard floor, blood falling from his nose.
“Yeah?” Barrett said, standing over him. “Where’s your wit now, huh?”
Viktor reached for his cane as Barrett smiled down at his struggle. Some students stopped to watch while Viktor used his cane to pull himself up. On one knee, Viktor looked up at Barrett with both hands gripping his cane.
“Perhaps if you put your time and energy into your research instead of this mindless violence, you would have accomplished something by now— or maybe not.”
Barrett lost his smile, and Viktor flashed him a little smirk. The fires of Barrett’s rage burned hotter, and he kicked Viktor. Picking up his cane, Barrett then snapped it on his knee to render Viktor helpless. After throwing the broken cane aside, he proceeded to kick and stomp on him. The other students did nothing to help the student that they also envied. You came around the corner and stopped, horrified.
“Barrett!” You shouted. “Stop!”
Your enraged boyfriend continued to kick Viktor with his teeth clenched. You ran over and pulled his arm. He finally stopped, looking down at you while Viktor coughed and tried to catch his breath.
“What is wrong with you?” You scolded, looking up at him. “You know he can’t defend himself.”
“That sewer rat had it coming!”
“Hey— stop it,” you scolded him again. “He’s a human being— It doesn’t matter where he’s from.”
Viktor pressed a palm against the floor and tried to get to his feet without his cane. You turned to him and rushed over to grab his arm and help him up.
“Here— Let me help you.”
Barrett watched you pull Viktor up and wrap his arm around your shoulder. He leaned against you for support, making Barrett angrier.
“So, you’re taking his side!?” Barrett shouted. “You’re one of those Undercity sympathizers? Wake up, Y/N! They’re nothing but criminals, low-lifes, and disease carriers!”
You scowled at Barrett as Viktor closed his fist to cough. You felt the vibration of his deep cough against your body.
“I think you should go, Barrett,” you said sternly. “You’re going to be late.”
Barrett gave you both a hard stare before turning and storming off. He didn’t like seeing you two together like that. The other students returned to their schedules, and you turned your head to look at the beaten student. He turned his head and looked into your gentle eyes.
“I’m so, so sorry,” you apologized on behalf of your boyfriend. “Come on— Let’s get you to the infirmary.”
“No, thank you.”
“But— You’re hurt.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Well— We should at least tell Dean Heimerdinger.”
“No, do not tell Heimerdinger,” Viktor protested. “I do not want him to think I cannot handle myself— nor do I want him to regret allowing me to attend the academy.”
You understood his fear of disappointing his mentor or losing his opportunity for higher learning. He earned his place here with his brilliant mind and deserved it as much as anyone else.
“Alright, I understand,” you said softly. “Let’s at least get you to your room.”
“I have a lecture to attend.”
“What? You’re in no condition to attend a lecture.”
“This is not the first time I have been physically assaulted— and I doubt it will be the last. I will be fine.”
“Still— I’m not letting you go to class.”
“If it will put you at ease, then you may accompany me,” Viktor insisted. “Then we may deal with my injuries.”
“Viktor,” you said, serious. “You’re bleeding.”
Viktor touched the spot above his upper lip with two fingers and then saw the blood. He lowered his head with some disappointment over having to cut class.
“…So I am,” Viktor reluctantly admitted. “I suppose… I will have to get the notes later…”
You nodded and then pulled Viktor forward to take him to the dormitory wing. He resisted and looked back at where he had fallen.
“Wait— I need my notes and my cane,” Viktor said, outstreaching his hand. “Would you be so kind as to get them for me?”
“Of course,” you responded quickly. “Just wait here for a second.”
Viktor allowed you to bring him closer to the wall and pressed his hand against it to hold himself upright. He watched you lean down to pick up his notebook and broken cane. He held his notebook and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. The walk was long, silent, and slow. You could feel his body warmth and hear him breathing heavily into your ear. When you reached his room, he got his key out of his pocket and opened the door. You helped him over to the bed and sat him down at the edge of it.
“I’ll be right back.”
“Please, take your time.”
You smiled softly and straightened before leaving the room. Viktor reached for his broken cane and hobbled over to his desk. When you returned, you found him sitting in his chair with his taped-up cane propped up against the desk. His head was down with his pencil moving quickly across the page in his open notebook.
“Viktor,” you lightly scolded him. “You were supposed to wait for me— What are you doing?”
“I have work to do.”
“You are so stubborn.”
“Yes— I’ve been told that before.”
“I have the bandages,” you informed him. “Come here.”
Viktor reached for his repaired cane and rose from the chair to approach the bed. He sat down on the edge and propped up his cane. You put the medical supplies on the bed and then grabbed the cane to inspect it.
“Clever,” you commented. “However, I doubt this will hold.”
“It is only temporary,” he explained. “Just until I get a replacement— But I could fill the cracks with a bonding agent.”
You put the cane back down and sat beside Viktor on the bed. You reached for an alcohol wipe and tore it open.
“Turn toward me,” you instructed. “This might sting a little.”
Viktor turned his head toward you so you could wipe the dried blood underneath his nose. He did not react, his mind concerned with everything but his injuries.
“Gold would work,” Viktor mused. “Though— a bit pretentious.”
“Viktor,” you scolded him. “Stop talking.”
Viktor remained silent as you rubbed the wipe near the corner of his mouth. He watched your focused eyes as you looked at his surprisingly soft lips.
“Barrett is jealous of you,” you told him. “He thought of himself as Heimerdinger’s best student until you came to the academy.”
“I know.”
“A lot of people are unhappy that you’re here,” you continued. “They think you don’t belong with the rest of us.”
Viktor gently grabbed your wrist, and you looked into his golden eyes. He already knew everything you were telling him.
“I know.”
Viktor released your wrist, and you set the bloody wipe aside. You then grabbed a bandage and put it over the bridge of his nose.
“What is the Undercity like?” You asked him, curious. “Is it as bad as they say?”
“What do you think?”
“People tend to exaggerate,” you answered. “It’s hard to know what’s true and what’s not.”
You opened another bandage to put it on his cheek and ran your finger over it. Viktor indulged your curiosity, though he did not want your pity.
“The air is hard to breathe, and food is hard to come by,” he revealed. “Desperation brings out the worst in others. I have seen the worst of humanity with my own eyes.”
You paused and then averted your gaze. It was hard to imagine the sort of life Viktor had while you were living comfortably in Piltover.
“However, I have hope for a better tomorrow,” Viktor stated, voice lighter. “It is the students of the academy that can make that possible. We ought to work together rather than against each other.”
You turned back toward Viktor to find him looking up with a glimmer in his eye. He held onto his dream of improving the lives of those in the Undercity. You admired his heart of gold and brilliance.
“I agree.”
You smiled, and he returned the smile, feeling more comfortable in your presence. Then, you reached for the buttons of his vest, and he instantly tensed.
“—What are you doing?” Viktor asked, confused. “I… I don’t think that is appropriate…”
“N—No— It’s not like that,” you explained, letting go. “I’m pretty sure you have more injuries so—”
“Oh— Oh, of course,” Viktor said, understanding. “I can take care of that part— You should go to class.”
Viktor unbuttoned the first button of his vest, and you stood. You were pretty sure he had bruising on his abdomen and possibly a cracked rib.
“Are you sure?” You asked. “I can stay— If you want.”
Viktor continued to unbutton his vest and then took it off. You waited for his answer and hoped he would ask you to stay with him.
“You have already done more for me than most,” he said sincerely. “I am grateful, but I do not want to rob you of your education. Please, go.”
“Alright… Take care, Viktor.”
“You too, miss.”
As you walked towards the door, your academy skirt swished slightly from the motion. You turned around, and Viktor, with nimble fingers, loosened his white tie and then slipped it off.
“My name is Y/N,” you told him. “Just so you know.”
“Y/N,” Viktor repeated. “Pretty— I will remember that.”
You smiled, your heart fluttering a little from his compliment. As soon as you left, Viktor unbuttoned his shirt, revealing the dark bruises that had just begun to bloom beneath the fabric. He shrugged the shirt off, leaning back against the bed and releasing a long, weary breath.