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A sniper's gaze never leaves its target.

Caitlyn always had her eyes on you. Even when you thought she didn't. Ever since she met you at one of the Piltover counselor meetings, she watched you carefully as if to mentally digest every facet of your being. The way you leaned into your cane when you stood for too long, how you secretly took your medications when you thought everyone was too hooked into debate to notice you in the shadows of Jayce, when you would leave the room discreetly when you felt the aura of a syncope coming.

She saw you, she always saw you.

You were quiet enough to hide in shadows without much notice, sometimes the only sound being the clicking of your cane or when your soft breathing up-ticked in speed before you took a puff of your inhaler.

A majority of the counselors paid you no mind, some didn't even bat an eye at your direction as if you were lesser than them. Yet, you didn't mind. Sadly, it had been something you had grown accustomed to.

However, Caitlyn wasn't.

She knew you were fine with the little appreciation you got for working on Hextech; but, she wasn't.

One late night, you were slaving away at your desk long after Jayce and even Viktor went to bed. You were hunched over the blueprints, shaky hands dusting over the intricate white depictions of the Hexcore. The lantern light flickered and made the shadows on your face ebb and flow. You reached for your coffee, the brew long since gone cold as you brought it to your lips and let the fluid slip between them.

You were close, you knew you were.

"Ahem," A voice clearing their throat caught your attention, making you nearly choke on your coffee. Your gaze slipped back to see Kiramman standing there, arms crossed as she leaned against the doorway of the lab.

"Kiramman? Shouldn't you be sleeping by now?" You asked, placing your mug back down on the desk. Her footfalls clicked against the tiled flooring as she approached.

"I should be asking you the same question, it's nearly daybreak," She began, looking out the windows of the lab to the overview of Piltover's cityscape. "I just got here; but, I presume that is not the same for you." She remarked, gesturing to the cold coffee and the wide spread of blueprints and scrabbled notes sprawled across the desk.

"Ah, it's already morning?" You questioned, reached into your bag beside your chair, retrieving your container of medications for the day.

"Yes, 4:57 A.M. to be exact, which means you should have gone to bed hours ago." She muttered as she watched you pour the medications into your palm before putting them in your mouth, washing them down with cold coffee.

"Mm, sorry, sometimes I get carried away with work." You muttered into the mug before placing it back down.

As you went to hunch back over the blueprints again, you felt her hand pull you back against your chair. Her grip was tight but not painful, like she was trying to hold back. Her eyes bore into yours, her gaze icy but held some concern in it.

"You are pushing yourself. Again. This is not okay." She declared, her grip on your shoulder tightening just a smidge

"I can handle myself just fine, Kiramman-"

"Don't give me that, you and I both know I'm right here." She snapped, running her free hand's fingers through her sapphirine strands. "How many nights have you done this?"

"It doesn't matter-"

"Yes, it does. With all your conditions, you're going to push yourself to an early grave! Now, tell me, how many nights have you stayed up until dawn and you didn't say a word?" She demanded, her nails boring into your shoulder as her frown deepened.

"... I've lost count-"

"Lost count?! Seriously, you can't keep doing this! What if all that caffeine makes your heart worse?"

"Why do you care so much anyways? My research is none of your business. You get all the numbers and details from Jayce anyways."

"You don't get it, you're my business. I care about you! You can't keep pushing yourself to the brink and end up hospitalized or even worse!" She pleaded, a desperate gleam in her eyes before they darkened into a stormy sky. "Who's making you do all this extra work? Are they extorting you?" She pried, pushing you firmer against the chair.

"What are you on about? No one is making me do this! I choose to do this."

"Why then? Why do you push yourself so hard when you know your body has these limitations? What can I do to stop you from doing this to yourself?"

"You don't have to do anything, I never asked for your help-"

"Well, it's obvious you need it. Look at what you are doing to yourself! Open your eyes!"

"I don't need your pity just because you think I can't carry myself."

"I am not pitying you! I care for you!" She begged as you felt that familiar dryness in your throat as your chest got tight.

You began to cough and scramble for your bag but her hand kept you pinned. She reached into your bag as you began to wheeze and squirm.

"Open your mouth." She demanded as she fished out your inhaler. You instinctively open your mouth as you wheezed and whimpered while she popped off the cap over the mouth piece. She smirked softly down at you like she was enjoying this moment of control and placed the mouthpiece between your lips and pressed down. "Breathe deeply for me, okay?" She prompted, watching you inhale and deflate from the tension.

Slowly, she pulled the mouthpiece from your mouth, looking down at you with intense eyes.

"Good job," She cooed, putting the inhaler back in your bag.

"The... The hell was that for?" You questioned, still catching your breathe from your attack.

"Because you need me, as I need you. You are my business and I intend to keep it that way," She declared, her eye contact eerily unwavering. "You are going to go to your chambers and rest, even if I have to drag you there myself, understand?" She continued before finally letting go of your shoulder.

"But, we have that meeting today, I can not miss that-"

"Yes you can, as Commander, I dismiss you from the meeting today. Now, would you rather walk up there with your cane or should I get your wheelchair?" Caitlyn demanded, standing up straighter to cross her arms.

"I told you, I'll be fine."

"Wheelchair it is."

"Kiramman! Enough!" You declared, rising from your chair after grabbing your desk to stabilize yourself. "I will rest after the meeting and I will not let you boss me around like this!"

Silence stretched between you two for much longer than you were comfortable with, but Kiramman's gaze never wavered.

"You're right. I'm sorry," Caitlyn resigned, taking a step back. "This is not about you being disabled, this is about you needing rest."

"Kiramman-"

"You need rest, come on." She pleaded, gesturing to your wheelchair she pulled over from the side of your desk.

You looked down at the wheelchair, feeling your legs tremble ever so slightly.

"Fine," You relented, walking over and taking a seat onto the lightly-padded seat. In silence, Caitlyn began to wheel you down the halls past Piltover hierarchs and onlookers whispering, a sight you were used to. However, once you two were alone, she pushed the wheelchair right past your room. You went to stop her but she grabbed your shoulder once more and kept walking.

"You will be staying in my chambers for the day, just so I can keep an eye on you." She muttered, walking briskly. "Also, call me Caitlyn."

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The air got colder, the hallways did too. Even homeroom, a light start to the day, became quiet with last minute homework or cramming for tests. Those were the lucky days, some days it was hushed whispering of a fallen friend, speculation burning and crackling like a wildfire at the edges of their minds. Lux wanted to scream, to run, to beat her hands against the wood desks and chairs, to ache and ache until her slender body broke.

Lux never had Garen's ambition, much less her aunt's. She was something else, in this way among others. Something delicate and small, lacking any bulk or strength.

Jinx was something else. Slim, yes, but strong and creative. A supernova of fire and power. She was a painter, a purposeful little thing. She could paint anything she put her mind to, many of her fellow classmates had portraits handmade as gifts-or trades. Lux had one as well, one that hung proudly in her room. There was a grace in how Jinx moved, no matter how erratic she seemed. All the drama of a dancer.

It was easier to focus on that, the way har arms moved and swiped, the way her slender fingers clenched, than anything else. Lux's chest rose and fell rapidly, hyperventilating as he argument continued. She barely knew what she was saying until Jinx ran out the door crying.

Jinx. Crying.

The same girl who faceplanted trying to climb a tree and lost both her front teeth and smiled around the blood. The same girl who met monsters with rage instead of fear. The very same who broke all the bones in her leg and still screamed her anger with not a single tear that Lux saw.

Jinx liked to lick her wounds alone. She didn't cry.

Trying to get her to open up was like trying to coax paint to run upwards.

Maybe Lux was seeing things.

The shower was hot, scalding even. The steam gathered and choked, lingering in her still-heaving lungs. She scrubbed her skin pink and raw and pulled on her nice clothes, a formal dress that itched and fell stiff around her knees, not like the soft and flowing fabrics she preferred.

She met Garen on the stairs, both of them walking then sitting stiffly. A grand dinner sat before them, Aunt Tianna at the head between them. Garen on her right, Lux on her left.

Not a single part of the meal had been cooked in the house.

Sparkling water kissed her lips as she half listened to Aunt Tianna engage Garen about Jarvin. Maybe that's why the next sentance took her by surprise.

"Jarvin and Shyvanna broke up."

Cue coughing and a disaproving glance from her aunt.

It was not that much a surprise, she supposed, Shyvanna was pretty and strong but certainly not influential. Some girl who moved from the country and has no friends. And the First Star certainly didn't approve of their heir kneeling in the mud. They barely tolerated Jinx and they chose her.

Amusement, mostly, not that Lux would ever tell Jinx. How could she explain to her that she risked her life every day because the cosmos had a sick sense of humor?

How to tell a girl who needs to fight how silly it all is?