#jayce.

❛ hey – you sure you're okay ? ❜

jayce doesn't answer her.

not because he doesn't want to, he does. but there is— something in the moment that puts any of his intention to a pause. maybe it's the simple fact that it's her, which doesn't surprise him based on how often she'd caught his attention like this through the years. gold-beaming, confident, and authoritative mel medarda. jayce had once thought, so naively, that she couldn't have possibly been put off by anything, not with the way she's always taken on any circumstances that comes her way with grace, with elegance.

well, to an extent, he was right, wasn't he ? but he understands now that that wasn't the whole picture too.

mel could... she could be angry. and disappointed. her mouth downturned and her posture disapproving that day when he'd come to her after the first night they had been together. she could be enthralled and pleased too, in small ways jayce thinks he'd managed to pull that softness from her when they were together. and she could be comforting, and accommodating, and she— she's a good listener, he thinks. he had been so angry once, returning from the desolate, alternate world, that all he could've focused on was how she'd long objectified him as a purchase, an investment, that he'd forgotten how good she'd been to him, as well.

and of course, he never thought he'd see her anxious.

jayce isn't taking pleasure in this, he swears. or maybe he is, but not ... not in the kind you'd expect. the fondness that blooms here from her expression isn't from malice, or sadistic relief that he'd driven her to a state of concern, but rather the opposite. it aches in the possibility of what-once, and what they now could never be now. for a moment, jayce finds himself hateful of time; cursing it for what it constantly takes. all the same, he drinks in the moment. he takes in the brown of her eyes and the slope of her cheeks. the way her tattoos and freckles sparker and shimmer with every movement. whatever wisp of hair that escapes her braids, and jayce—

takes her face, kisses her.

the kiss is slow, careful. and then, just as they part, he finally, finally admits : ❛⠀you were one of the best things to have happened to me. i... i wanted you to know that.  ❜ i don't want you to forget.

but jayce has made his choice. caitlyn will turn a blind eye to viktor's crime, blaming it entirely on noxian's unaccounted supernatural soldier, as long as jayce and viktor will leave piltover and zaun — for now. just as councillor medarda will take her mother's army and, likewise, exit the territory.

❛⠀thanks. ❜ it's–

jayce thinks he's been here, before. or at least, you know, he'd seen it in the distance. the last drop, but he never– he'd never have the guts to ever enter establishments like these. or even if he was foolish enough to have pulled himself into places like these, he'd no doubt he'd be scammed and robbed two-minutes in. stereotype much, talis? something like viktor's voice curls in his ear and jayce winces, though he tries hiding it behind the first gulp of his drink.

whatever she's gotten for him, it's strong. jayce likes strong. hell, he can do strong. at least it'll take any edge off.

❛⠀so – ❜ jayce starts, and he ignores all the glaring questions about why he'd never come back ( not yet ) and where the hell has he been. he knows she has them, if not her own curiosity then probably cait's, and that's– that's not something he can blame her for. if he'd been in caitlyn's shoes, jayce would've driven himself up the wall trying to figure out what happened; but cait's smarter when jayce is reckless. even in their ruthlessness to investigate and learn more, she'd know where to set her priorities and pull her punches. he, in retrospect, never learns. ❛⠀– heard you're living it up at piltover. ❜

maybe? would she? that's the rumours anyways. which is why he's surprised to have bumped into her here and then have her dragged him to the bar.

❛⠀– or maybe i got that wrong, huh. ❜