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Just wishing somehow this dream will carry me
And I'll swear just one last time
They say the worlds is yours so imma make it mine
Cause nothing is stopping you
You can set the world on fire Nothing is stopping you
And if I go out, I'll go out screaming
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A/N: Written in 2020 as a reflective look at the LEC winners. Maybe I’ll update it for MAD or to be more current but I’m pretty pleased with this standalone.
Fnatic and Dynasties--2018
It’s one of those nights when Rekkles is blankly staring out the window, not responding to Broxah or Hylissang’s pleas for him to eat dinner.
“He’s thinking too much about his old teams,” Dylan sighs when he sees Hylissang come back into the kitchen for the third time.
“Does he wish we were them?” Caps wonders aloud. Two years ago, Rekkles looked at him with hurt, seeing someone else instead of Caps. It took a while to get Rekkles to smile at him.
“No, he doesn’t want to replace any of you,” Dylan begins to peel an orange, “It’s more that it’s cost so much to try to stay on the top. He wants to win, but teammates don’t always stay strong. For a while they’re good, but they can’t hold up or they change and leave. He has to say good-bye to them, no matter how much he loves them. To win, he has to keep giving people away. Or in trying to win, he drives them away, at least so he thinks. Right now, he thinks he needs to be the person stepping away. It’s best to leave him alone, he’ll pull himself out.”
“What would make it stop?” Bwipo asks. Dylan looks at him and Caps sadly. They haven’t found the partner that they would do anything to stay with yet, an Us that they would do almost anything for, even if they weren’t enough. He remembers exactly how resigned Rekkles was when Jesiz left and Deilor had privately told him about the ones before: Klaj, Reignover, Yellowstar, Febiven and who knows how many still taunted the ADC’s thoughts. The era before coaches was a mess and Rekkles was so very young. Perhaps that was why he had gotten along as well as he did with Doublelift and Deft, ADCs who had to keep giving beloved partners away – supports, junglers, midlaners that all helped them and loved them once upon a time. They were far away though, and busy.
“Someone who could understand it I suppose; the feeling of losing multiple partners that you cared for, became one with, and believed you could be good enough that you’d be on the big stage together forever.” Or someone strong enough to stay with him forever. Dylan doesn’t say. No top team in League has stayed together for long, partners rarely manage more than two years. There are rarities in Korea now, GorillA and Pray, Bang and Wolf, but not in Europe. It wouldn’t do to tell his players to do the impossible. However, he looks at Caps whose lost in thought, there might be hope yet.
Soaz and Hylissang exchange looks. They’re the only members who’ve been through multiple LCS teams, who understand the fierce dependence forged by the fires of the highest competition that tastes like coal when it’s gone. Hell, Soaz came before Rekkles did, lost all of his teammates to retirement or other teams, left, came back, and rebuilt a team all over again.
“I see,” Soaz nods slowly, “I get it.” He sees his ex-teammates outside the rift but it’s not the same as having them at your side. Like missing a favorite glove and the frustration that comes with breaking in a new one is damning. Part of Soaz wants to hit Rekkles since it’s not the end, never the end, nor is he alone but he keeps his peace as he munches on an orange.
No one says anything else for the rest of the night.
-
Caps leaves. Soaz leaves. Dylan leaves. Caps is rising, walking into the arms of G2 to become a king. Soaz moves to oppose him on a new super team in Misfits. Dylan moves to a clean slate, to Schalke.
“I’ll see you on the rift Dylan,” Caps smiles up to his ex-coach who returns it. Caps doesn’t notice the slight grimace behind it.
“Stay out of trouble,” he ruffles Caps’ hair and walks the kid run towards his new team, all of them open arms and smiles at their new teammate.
“I wonder,” Dylan sighs and looks back at the Fnatic house to a Rekkles staring out the window, eyes blackened by lack of sleep. He waves to catch Rekkles attention and pantomimes a phone call.
I wonder if this is what finally breaks Rekkles.
“I survived Dylan,” Soaz huffs, “the kid’ll pull through.”
“It doesn’t hurt for him to know he has someone to talk to,” Dylan replies, “Same to you.”
“Not Caps?” Soaz raises an eyebrow.
“He isn’t heartbroken, not the way I’m thinking of.” Not when Caps juts his chin so high and proud and the inevitability of his stare is something that Dylan knows will haunt Rekkles.
“He’s Baby Faker. It’ll happen when his rule ends, just like the old one,” Soaz hefts his luggage into a cab, “I’ll see you around Dylan.”
“See you,” they trade hugs as Dylan continues to wait for his ride to his new apartment.
He wonders about dynasties and kings and most of all, if it’s worth the price to wear such a heavy crown. When he goes into scrims, he keeps an extra eye on Upset. With some fortune and fortitude, maybe he can keep this young star, the new Rekkles, some people call him, from falling apart.
-
Bonus: 2018 G2
He does his best to forget, but it’s not easy when all these people around him who have their partner, who have their ‘Us’ as Rekkles put it one, very drunken night years and years ago. It’s not easy to keep his head raised as he watches them bask in the happiness he doesn’t have. Well, happy is a relative thing. He’s been around long enough to hear the differences between Wadid and Hjärnan’s fights and right now, it’s not happy. But they’ll find their way back to each other – they always do. He’s tries to be happy too, for Elias who is utterly spoiled by Oskar even if Oskar’s heart is in Greece.
There’s nothing that will bring Jesper or Alfonso back to Europe. No amount of pleas or fights will change that. He wonders what NA’s appeal is. Surely, it’s not the food or the level of competition. He wonders if the secret is in Soren’s smile, but dismisses it quickly. They share the same confidence, bordering into arrogance.
The truth is that he doesn’t know and his search for answers hasn’t turned up much. He flirts with almost everyone, but none of them know him personally. No one seems to make his loneliness go away. None of them stay. The more he wants to keep them, the farther they seem to run.
His sister is the one who points out to him that a king’s throne is always separate from the rest of the court. At that, he can only laugh at himself, for wearing a crown that he doesn’t know how to share.
Somewhere else, a very, weary Slovenian is tired of helping others wear their broken crowns. Next year, he promises himself, next year he’ll be the one wearing it. And he’ll get it right.
