Chapter Text
Viktor has always felt slightly out of place, like a puzzle piece too damaged by age and crooked in all the wrong places, making the whole picture appear wrong. He’s never been quite the best at adapting in new places, no matter the number of times he had to. When he was 8, it was like his whole world fell apart, resting on his shoulders, waiting to be built anew. The new room of his orphanage never quite achieving to smell and feel like home, the way an embrace in his mother’s arms did.
At age 11, he felt like it was not only his life on the brink of unwanted change. The water didn’t only damage his bed; it wasn’t only his floor that seemed like it would crash under the pressure of the water. Once more, he had to pack all his life’s belongings into a small duffel bag, reduced to nothing but small remnants of his past.
His life was never something that could be called stable, hindered by sudden changes and sickness. But there was always something stabilizing him. The kind eyes of one of the nuns in his previous orphanage, that reminded him so much of his mother’s, the loud voice of one of the children, that never ceased to brighten up someone’s day, if not his own, his cheap cane, made by his own father’s hands, connecting him to the ground, reminding him that there is something to live for.
It was never the issue to find something grounding, it was the fact that it was always ripped away in the most cruel way one could imagine. His parents’ sudden death, a sudden flood, ripping him away from the place he finally didn’t struggle to call home, children so bright but certainly no less cruel than a full-grown adult, ripping away the only thing that reminded him of his father’s callused hands and was the only thing holding him upright.
He was never one to hope for a bright future, but he was still a child, no matter how vicious life could be, he would always look for something to connect him to reality, something to strengthen his drive for something better. At first, it was prayer, embedded in his mind by the strict religious nuns that saved him from a cruel fate on the streets. Then it was the books carefully collected and hidden under one of his floorboards, now a bare fragment of a memory, probably decayed and destroyed by the stream of water that ripped him away from a safe place once more. He was never a particularly happy child, but if not happy, he was driven. Striving for a better future, a future he deserved.
So now that he sat in his newly acquired bed, in an unknown environment, he questioned if a better life was really what he was craving, waiting for all along. He worked hard to get this scholarship, no matter how many times he got moved from one orphanage to another, his studies, the goal to obtain new knowledge, to strive for something big and bright, never left his mind.
But apparently even a sudden move to America, of all countries, and a surprisingly supportive acceptance letter to a prestigious STEM school in Piltover, the city of progress and new beginnings, couldn’t satisfy the emptiness he carried with him ever since he was ripped away from his precious family.
The smell of freshly made food, the loud voices, highlighted by the American accent most of them carried, the mindless way some of his fellow pupils displayed their wealth. It made him feel out of place, overwhelmed, the way a chicken would feel walking among peacocks. It wasn’t a new feeling, but it certainly wasn’t a welcome one either. Viktor was sick of feeling weak, like someone who was destined to be looked down on, cursed by his own body and past.
But not even the condescending looks of his peers and teachers alike, could deter him from having a goal, and now using his newly acquired means to reach it. Even though his mind was constantly clouded by insecurity and his body brimming with never-ending pain, he would do anything he was required to do, to become someone, to leave a reminder of who he was, no matter how little time fate gave him. He was determined to change the world, and he was not one to ask for permission.
As he paced along the perfectly aligned floorboards of his room, he couldn’t resist fetching a pack of cigarettes in an attempt to calm his mind. Shortly after opening the singular window, leaning out, admiring the view of his unfamiliar surroundings, he lighted it with trembling fingers, hoping for a short escape from his newly found reality.
“Am I interrupting?” came a soft voice from the door, as Viktor struggled to put out the cigarette in his hand while quietly swearing. “Kurva.” He quietly turned around, in an attempt to seem inconspicuous, taking in the sight of a boy, around his age, with golden skin and eyes that seemed to have a light he seemed to be missing ever since his early childhood. “Not at all,” he utters in heavily accentuated English. “Who are you, if I may ask?” The other boy sends him a confused look, as if he should know the answer to his own question. “Your roommate? Is this not room 23? My arrival was rather last minute, and, well, I was told that this was the only free room left.”
Viktor couldn’t fight off the confused, if not slightly irritated, look that immediately appeared on his face. He has always been too expressive, vulnerable. “I was told, that I have been granted an independent room.” The young man sends him an apologetic look. “As I said, my arrival is rather spontaneous and they couldn’t find different housing for me. But if it’s too much trouble, we can talk to the administration. Maybe they could still find something else.” He looks at him, much like a troubled puppy, and in that moment Viktor couldn’t even imagine sending him away.
Viktor was aware that the additional occupant could cause trouble, he would be displaying himself in his most vulnerable state. While this would not be the first time he was forced to share a room with another person, he still had hoped that this could be a new beginning, a place he could find comfort in, without someone watching him, looking for his weaknesses. Memories of roommates spreading rumors, never really untruthful, about his trouble with the easiest tasks, like getting dressed or walking from one place to another with wobbly feet, after having misplaced his cane on the other side of the room, came flooding back, attacking his mind.
But as the boy, whose name he didn’t know, looked at him with a hopeful gaze, he couldn’t say anything but, “That will not be necessary, make yourself comfortable.” As the unknown student started stepping inside, with a big suitcase by his side, Viktor grabbed his pack of cigarettes and moved to his currently unoccupied bed. “Well, if we are going to be roommates, it might be convenient to know each other’s names, no?” The boy looked startled but recovered in just a second, smiling hesitantly, “oh! Of course, how impolite, my name is Jayce. You’re Viktor, right? The woman at the reception only told me my room number and the name of the person I’d be sharing a room with.”
Viktor nodded in confirmation but refrained from offering a verbal response, too lost in thought to think of any fitting words. While this change appears to be subtle to the untrained eye, Viktor feels as if he has lost some form of safety by being cursed with a roommate once more. It reminds him of the orphanages, of his past, that no matter where he is, life will always challenge him in new ways.
Suddenly, he realized that he would have to actually put effort into making himself likeable, he would have to pay attention, be helpful, do stuff he deemed unnecessary for the sole reason of trying to prevent the inevitable but certainly delayable disaster. He didn’t believe himself to be a pessimist, but more of a realist. Past experiences have told him that living with someone else in such proximity never ends well. Not with his obvious disadvantage. But he hoped to be prepared, and have no expectations, so he would not have to experience the eventual disappointment that has laced his childhood with negativity and despair.
While Viktor tried to sort his thoughts, he noticed the previously unknown boy, now Jayce, throwing the big suitcase on his bed in a careless manner.
He has always struggled to understand how people could be so sloppy with their own belongings. He himself has never had much, but he has treasured every single thing that he owned. Always careful, not to damage what was his, not to make it a reflection of himself. Even the small act of throwing something in such a nonchalant manner, no matter the small chance of it actually being damaged, told him enough about his new roommate, than any empty words ever could. When Jayce started unpacking his numerous possessions, it only confirmed his suspicion of the others', probably unknown, privilege.
As he continued to stare, he couldn’t stop himself from slightly fidgeting with his cane, a habit ingrained in his mind, unconscious but rather noticeable to other people's eyes.
Jayce’s nearly robotic movements, inconsistent with how messy his suitcase appeared to be, were suddenly interrupted by the sudden clatter of Viktor’s cane, as it falls to the floor.
A short silence fell upon the room, as Viktor, flustered by his own sloppy movement, tried to get up from his bed. But just when he put his worse leg on the ground, Jayce quickly picked the cane up, and hands it silently to Viktor. He smiled hesitantly, as if waiting for a response, but Viktor only took it from his hand, in a distrustful manner.
While the short moment might seem to be inconsequent, Viktor couldn’t stop his thoughts from drifting to similar instances, where his cane, his only ailment, was not tenderly returned, but rather looked at in a distrustful way or, if in the wrong company, taken and either destroyed or mockingly taken out of reach.
This interaction left him feeling more confused than warm, the way it should have. He could only put the cane next to his bed and shoot Jayce one last grateful look, as he silently tried to make himself comfortable in his new bed.
The fabric of the blanket was soft and pleasant to the touch, in a way he wasn’t used to, and the mattress was supporting his leg so that he could have a painless sleep. All these small details made him feel comforted, if not even more out of place, and he couldn’t shake the thought from his head, that he did not belong. That he wasn’t meant to be here, all just a coincidence and a rare blessing by the god he was still inclined to believe in.