Chapter Text
She had been buzzing the entire way home until she settled into her room, throwing her bag on the bed and immediately heading for her worn-down bedside table.
They kissed!
Well, she kissed Caitlyn, but they did kiss, and Caitlyn hadn’t pushed her away. That was a victory as far as she was concerned. Nothing in the world could bring her down from this mood—she had been smitten with her from the moment she saw her. Vi never believed in love at first sight, but she was starting to reconsider her stance on that.
Rummaging through the table, she pulled out a fresh pack of guitar strings and her wire cutters. The strings were due to be changed, but it wasn’t the only reason she wanted to restring her guitar. Detuning to loosen the strings first, she turned the machine heads, watching as each string loosened from its previously taut state. One by one, she snipped the strings, taking care to make sure the cut was as clean as possible. She cut toward the tuning pegs, wanting to make sure that the ball ends were intact. She needed them for what she wanted to do.
Vi set the guitar aside, unstrung and momentarily abandoned. Her real project tonight was far more important and required much more concentration. It was something she had tried to make only once before—a braided guitar string necklace. The trick was building up enough tension in the string with every twist that it wouldn’t lose its shape. Easier said than done. The last time she tried, the string ends stabbed her fingertips a few times, leaving red stains on the final piece. Luckily, she was the only one who was going to wear it, but this one was different. This one was for Caitlyn. The hardest part was making sure it was wide enough. A clasp on either end would make it easy to wear, but she didn’t know how big to make it or where Caitlyn would like it to sit on her neck. If she liked it at all.
Would she like it?
“No, of course she would,” she reassured herself. She didn’t push her away earlier. Who doesn’t like a necklace?
Her shoulders fell. Caitlyn could buy far better pieces than this; she could buy an entire store in Zaun. What was she doing?
“C’mon, Vi, you can’t talk yourself out of this one,” she said to the empty room.
Ever since they were little, Vi and Powder shared a room, which was the biggest bedroom in the basement. The bar was above them, and the floors were thick enough that they couldn’t hear the late-night revelers. On the walls were posters, some old and yellowed, others fairly fresh. The older ones were the rock bands that Vi and Powder used to dance around the room to as they played on the old record player. The newer posters were the metal bands that made it out of Zaun. They did it—hit it big across Runeterra. Or as big as metal acts got, they were still pretty niche.
Powder’s side of the room was strung with handmade art pieces and contraptions created from spare parts, often from amps that broke down or whatever Benzo gave Ekko for the two of them to mess with. Powder’s equipment corner was one of the few parts of the room that was left pristine. She took good care of her things; that was her future, she’d proudly boast to Vi.
If everything went right, the room was going to feel so much emptier in a few months. Powder was determined to get into that school, and most of the students were housed on campus. If she could get accepted, she might have wanted the freedom to be out on her own. Much as she would miss Powder, she knew it was what she wanted more than anything. And of course, Vi would spend the entire time worried sick about her. She’d always been her sister’s keeper, after all.
Fingers went back to diligently twisting the strings when the slam of the door as it swung open jolted Vi from her concentration. “Powder!” Vi shouted, shooting her a look as she glanced up from her work.
Powder shrugged, flinging her bag onto her bed—the old bunk bed they used to share growing up. Powder insisted on keeping it so she could use the top bunk to tinker around with things or do her art.
“What’cha doing, sis?” The blue-haired girl leaned forward, rocking on the heels of her feet in an exaggerated motion.
“Nothing,” Vi replied, hunching over her work. Maybe if Powder wasn’t so weird about Caitlyn, she’d be more willing to share, but as it stood, she just wanted to keep the peace for now. “Just making another guitar string necklace. I just have to focus on it so I don’t stab my fingers again.” Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, putting as much concentration into the effort as she could.
With a click of her tongue, Powder drew back, plopping down onto the bottom bunk and keeping a watchful eye on her sister as she worked. “For your girlfriend?” she asked, her tone so annoyingly sing-song.
Vi’s head snapped up. “What? No, we’re not, I mean… we’re not dating! We’re not dating.”
Powder’s laugh was instant, cutting through the air swiftly to slash through Vi’s defenses. “Please, everyone knows you two are sweet on each other. Except maybe you.” The younger sibling canted her head to the side. “I still don’t get it. She’s a total stick, and I’m not talking about how long she is. I mean, what does she get out of all this? You would think a Piltie like her wouldn’t get caught dead in Zaun. Let alone at a bar with a bunch of metalheads and troublemakers.”
Vi didn’t validate her with a response at first; she just kept twisting the guitar string. “She’s different.”
“Yeah,” Powder sighed, “you’ve said. Like a lot.”
Vi shook her head, pinching the ends of her string and grabbing the wire cutters. “She said she doesn’t get to do that kind of thing a lot. We’re basically her social life right now.” Taking the cutters, she clipped the ends of the string, making sure the ball end was in the center of the twist chain. “I’ve never met anyone with such a passion and fascination with music before. The way she describes it...hell, in the cafe, she just started humming a song and wrote the notes down on the napkin. Like put the little lines down and everything. She can write music the way I can pick it up by ear.” The big grin that slowly ate into her face gave her away.
“I knew it,” Powder accused, pointing a finger at Vi. “You’re in love with the Piltie girl!”
This conversation was going nowhere. It had to be more than just Caitlyn being from Piltover that bothered Powder, but Vi couldn’t put her finger on what it was. “So what? Damn, I can’t make new friends or get a girlfriend? Which she isn’t. We’re not dating.” Vi grabbed the pliers and folded the edges of the strings over so they would fit in the clasps. In her frustration, the strings slipped from the tool’s grip. “Gods dammit.”
“I’m just saying, maybe you should know her better first. You don’t even know her last name! You’ve only hung out with her for a little bit. Do you really know her?” Powder’s tone rang with the kind of innocent pondering that made Vi suspicious of her intentions. Oftentimes, she would take that tone when she was up to something. Powder had an impish nature; usually, it was all in good fun, but Vi wasn’t in the mood for it this time.
“What are you trying to say?” Vi asked, leaning forward with her arm resting on her knee.
Powder shrugged, pushing herself back off the bed and toward the door. “Just think that maybe you’re putting all of your energy into her without really knowing her. She’s all you talk about anymore. We’ve all noticed it.” And with that, she opened the door, slipping through it as she spared Vi one last glance.
Vi focused her narrowed eyes on the door. What had gotten into that girl lately? She and Powder had always gotten along; there was some teasing, but what siblings didn’t tease each other? This felt different, and Vi didn’t like that she couldn’t place where it was coming from. The necklace stayed clutched in her fingers, abandoned for the moment as her mind wrapped around what the hell had just happened.
Powder was just being dramatic, that was all. She barely talked to Caitlyn, tried to avoid her most of the time, so it was just Powder being in a mood or something. Sure, Vi didn’t know everything about Caitlyn—but that was the point of hanging out! So she could learn more about her. Vi wasn’t going to force Caitlyn to open up before she was ready. That wasn’t her place. But she couldn’t help but think—did the kiss mean the same to Caitlyn as it did to her? It was such a simple kiss, and yet she could still feel the ghost of her lingering there, could smell that hint of violets in her hair. She smelled amazing.
Vi shook her head, getting back to the task at hand. The necklace wasn’t going to finish itself. Grabbing the fastenings and chain from her kit, she spent the next few minutes in silence, quieting her mind as best as she could as she finished the project. It was a simple necklace, but this was one of the strings she played on when Caitlyn saw them perform for the first time. It felt appropriate. When the necklace was complete, she closed the box and put it on the nightstand.
A sigh escaped her as she collapsed onto the bed, lying flat on her back as blue-grey eyes stared at the faded posters plastered on the ceiling.
They kissed. They actually kissed. How was she expected to sleep now?
The moonlight filtered in through the gilded cage of her skylight. It felt like that sometimes, a cage of gold. The windows were framed in glittering metal, the skylight, all of it keeping her trapped like a bird that was never allowed to fly. She knew her parents loved her, but it got to a point where she wanted to spread her wings and explore the world around her; all she knew was Piltover and Ionia.
Caitlyn sprawled out, still in the clothes she met Vi in, with too blue eyes staring at the sky, begging for the ceiling to give way and allow her a means to be free. A soundtrack of Seraphine songs gently played from the record player near her bed, wistful longings for more in Childhood Dreams lulling her deeper into her thoughts.
Why hadn’t she been upfront with Vi from the start? Oh, she knew why; it’s the same reason why everyone else wants to know her. Her name. Kiramman. It gave her anything material she could ever want. She was never wanting for the finer things in life, but she wasn’t that kind of girl. She didn’t care about the riches; she wanted to live like common people. With normal expectations, no horrible weight of legacy looming over her, where one wrong step would be plastered all over the Piltover news.
She found herself mouthing the words of the chorus: And I remember all my childhood dreams, I find it hard to get them out of my mind. She loved singing, she loved music, but she didn’t love the expectations that came with the conservatory.
Need I remind you, the end-of-year performance is approaching, and I would hate for my star student not to be ready. Dean Medarda’s words rang through the gentle melody of the song.
Why did that woman always seem to hang over her like a shadow? As if her mother’s high expectations weren’t enough, the Dean herself was adding to the pressure. And yet her mind kept returning to Vi. To the softness of those lips, the way her scar felt against her skin. Oh, she tasted good, like a soft hint of sweetness. She wanted more than just that prolonged peck; the whole feeling had set her heart ablaze.
And then reduced it to ashes.
Powder knew. Powder knew and was going to blow the whole thing apart if she didn’t say something first. It was just a matter of when. She hadn’t lied about who she was; she just hadn’t told Vi everything. It was self-preservation at its finest. The gate had slowly been opening, but she kept a chain on it to keep things from getting out of hand.
But would it matter if Vi found out too late?
They kissed. She should have told her then. She should have told her sooner. But Vi liked her. Vi liked Caitlyn. Caitlyn, who could throw down in the pit and learned to headbang, and was passionate about music, and could write sheet music on a shabby napkin. Caitlyn, who didn’t scoff at the idea of metal and opera mixing. Her.
Vi didn’t know Caitlyn, who was something of a debutante, the sole heir of the Kiramman fortune and name. Caitlyn, who was a workaholic, who was a mess that got lost in her own head, who felt trapped and alone. Caitlyn, who was the very opposite of cool.
Caitlyn could barely tell which one of her was the real one anymore. She never put up a front around Vi; she wanted to try those things, she wanted to fit in. She genuinely loved the music. It spoke to her in a way other genres didn’t. It made her realize something she hadn’t quite figured out about herself yet.
Caitlyn Kiramman was angry. She was angry, and she was trapped, and she wanted out.
And every time she heard Vi let out those primal screams, every time those guitars roared and drums pounded, every thump of the bass, she felt it like a battle cry in her heart. Escape, escape, escape!
Seraphine wasn’t cutting it tonight. She didn’t need hopeful feelings predicated on a life of loneliness as she climbed to the top.
She needed her anger. It needed to be tangible, something she could hold in her hands and squeeze. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she would leave as soon as her last class ended, and she would go shopping. Not just any shopping.
No, she was invested in the band now, and so she would invest in them. New equipment for everyone, new clothes for herself, some metal records for nights like this when pop-fueled whimsy wouldn’t do it.
She sat up, shooting an apologetic glance at the Seraphine record that spun on the player. Sleep wasn’t happening. Caitlyn (not Kiramman) was kissed by Vi from Zaun, who could sleep after that? Who would want to?
No, she needed air; she needed to feel the cool night on her skin.
She needed…
She needed to scream.
“Shit, shit, shit!” Caitlyn somehow managed to get to the Last Drop a whole fifteen minutes after she said she would. Still unacceptable in her mind, but it was all for a good cause. Hopefully, Powder wouldn’t make fun of her outfit this time. Maybe she wouldn’t get the chance to, as two large men wheeled trollies behind her with large boxes loaded on them. The large bouncer, Loris, if she recalled correctly, gave her and the two men behind her a look and then silently grunted, nodding his head to the entrance. One day, she might have even mustered a hello out of him. Just not today.
“Oh, Caitlyn!” Vander said as he looked up from the counter, the paper in one hand, his pipe in the other. “Vi was wondering if you were going to show up.”
Caitlyn shrank in her loose-fitted tee, still getting used to the fabric not hugging her slight frame. “Sorry, I wanted to surprise the group.” She nodded back to the two men with the trollies. “I bought some new equipment.”
He leaned to the side, getting a good look at the boxes. “You certainly did. Do you need help setting it up?”
Caitlyn shook her head. “Oh, no need. I want them to open it first, but thank you!” Without a second to lose, she led the men to the stairs, instructing them to carry the boxes down the stairs and follow her.
She stepped into the basement, her own bags swinging at her sides. “Sorry, I’m late. I ran into some complications,” she announced before she made her way to the bottom.
Vi stopped as she went to greet her, and for a second, Caitlyn thought she was going to have to collect her jaw off the floor. “I figured, if I am going to be a part of this band, I should help contribute.”
She directed the men to set the boxes on the floor, tipping them both a few cogs and sending them on their way.
“What’s all this?” Mylo asked, stepping away from the drums where he had been chatting with Gert moments before.
“I… noticed your stage setup didn’t have floor monitors. So I bought some. You’ll be able to hear yourselves better when you perform. So all the sound isn’t flowing out to the audience and gets muddled on the stage.”
Gert was the next to stand up, immediately making a beeline for the boxes. “Oh, hell yeah! I told you guys we needed wedges!” She already had a pocket knife out and was slicing into the tape.
“I also got new cords and some extra mics. Including some drum mics.”
Caitlyn could hear Gert utter another pleased expression as she got the first box open.
“And I got some in-ear monitors for you, Vi.” She pulled a smaller box out of the bag, handing it to her. “They help isolate your vocals more clearly on stage, which, I find, works better than the floor monitors, but the floor monitors work better for instruments anyway.”
They all stood in stunned silence for a moment. Powder simply lingered in the back, shooting Caitlyn a knowing look.
“I thought it would be nice to thank you all for allowing me to be a part of this.” She said, drawing her shoulders in on herself, her hands clasped in front of her.
“Caitlyn,” Vi said, glancing between the box in her hands and the boxes that Gert was now gleefully unpacking, “you didn’t have to do all that. This must have cost you a fortune.” The worry was clear on her face.
Caitlyn’s heart sank. Did she screw up? “I did. I wanted to. I want to.” She had to repeat it; she meant it.
Vi still hadn’t looked up yet. “Cait, I…” her voice trailed off. “Thank you. Really, that was very thoughtful.”
But something still felt off.
Claggor and Mylo were helping Gert unload the boxes, with some small utterances of swear words as Mylo nearly dropped one.
“Hey, Vi, didn’t you have something for Caitlyn, too?” Claggor asked.
She did? Caitlyn raised a brow, turning to look at Vi, who looked like a deer frozen in the sights of a hunter.
“I—” the woman began to fish through her vest pockets until she pulled something out in her hand. “It’s not much, especially compared to all this, but I made this for you last night.” Vi opened her calloused hand to reveal a dulled silver necklace with a brass ball end in the center. “I made it from one of my guitar strings.”
And somehow, it was the most wonderful gift Caitlyn had ever received. Caitlyn wasn't a materialistic woman; money was no issue, and she could have anything she wanted. But something handmade, with thought and care? No one’s ever given her a gift like that. It wasn’t like a commissioned piece from a craftsman; it was small, simple, and a part of Vi.
If they were alone, she was certain she would have cried.
The smile that crossed her features looked like it should have been accompanied by tears, “Oh, Vi, it’s more than you know.”