Chapter Text
“You’re sure you have everything, mijo?”
Ximena swiped her hand over Jayce’s arms, squeezing over his leather bomber jacket—one of the few items in Jayce’s closet that was a slightly oversized, and one of his most prized possessions. It had been his father’s. Its reliable warmth and the scent of leather conditioner was a great comfort as Jayce stood beside the rumbling taxi. Especially, since Tony Lewis was shouting at him from the scratchy stereo, voice straining over desperate proclamations in Your Love ♬, as if demanding Jayce make up his fucking mind; in or out?
Jayce’s fingers curled around the car door frame.
As he looked at his mother, he knew he could still retrieve his suitcases from the trunk, walk right back into the house, and accept the job offer from Bolbok Enterprises without a single word of judgement from her. It was a stable job with great benefits, the salary would mean he’d never want for anything, and he’d get to dive right into a career doing exactly what he’d spent six years grueling over at Piltover Academy for. Except, he’d be contributing to engineering projects that made no substantial impact in the world. He’d be at the beck and call of superiors who only cared about how to hammer out a project with the smallest budget for the sake of their own pockets. Creativity would become a foreign concept, a childish ambition he’d once fallen asleep to beneath taped up drawings scratched out in crayon on his wall. There had been other job offers too, but they were much the same. No matter what, he’d be miserable.
When Jayce had opened the mailbox to discover the swooping ℋ crest embossed into a taupe envelope a week before graduating from his master’s program, his heart had dropped out of his ass then jumped right back in to shoot out his throat—he’d vomited into the nearest plant, then promptly cleaned it before his mother could discover the mess.
There were no methods of application to Heimerdinger University. One had to be scouted by the chancellor himself. It was the most prestigious school of arts and sciences in the world, ranging from undergraduate to doctoral programs, and Jayce, despite his perfect GPA and few humble accolades, had never imagined he’d be considered. The letter offered two years of supervised research towards his PhD with a stipend in exchange for teaching a specialized course in arcanic engineering. It would be the jump start he needed to form his own enterprise in the long run. It was the ticket to his dreams. It was the most stressful thing he’d ever faced.
Few people ever achieved their dreams, thus to be offered a perfectly paved path directly to his, terrified him. What if he sprained his ankle in a measly crack in the pavement? He would disappoint not only himself, but his mother, who had sacrificed so much to put him through school.
But the only way to find success was to chase it, to fight for it. Anxious spirals—which regular exercise helped to mitigate—would get him nowhere
So Tony Lewis could take a chill pill from his aggressive serenade. If Jayce felt like being honest, the driver’s cigarette smoke had been making for a more successful lure. Though he avoided smoking to maintain his fitness regimen, he’d always secretly loved the scent.
“Yes, mamá.” Jayce bent to kiss her cheek and pull her into a hug.
Ximena pressed up on her toes, wrapped her arms around Jayce’s neck. “If you forgot anything, I can mail it. And call me once you’ve settled.”
“Yes, mamá.” Jayce smiled into his mother’s shoulder, savoring her warmth against the late summer chill. He wouldn’t be coming home until the year ended. His research would extend through winter break. “Love you.”
“Love you, too.” When they broke apart, Ximena wiped a stray tear away and smiled wide. “Go. Before I get in the car with you.”
Jayce laughed and did as he was told, ducking into the taxi’s back seat. The driver sighed heavily, flicking his cigarette out the window, then shifted the car into drive and pulled away, tires crackling over the pavement. Jayce waved at his mother one last time with a wide, confident grin before slumping back into his seat and letting his smile fall.
The Outfield passed off the radio to Judas Priest, and either the driver had lost his hearing or was striving to. Regardless, You’ve Got Another Thing Coming ♬ blasted loudly enough to drown out the worst of Jayce’s racing, colliding thoughts, so a slight loss in his own hearing was a worthy trade. Better than stewing in nerves for the entirety of the three and a half hour drive.
Knee bouncing, Jayce shut his eyes and let himself be carried off to his future.
꧁꧂
Suburbs gave way to freeways gave way to gravel roads that lead into a dense wood. Jayce’s luggage rattled as the car bumbled along. Shadows of knowing trees streaked across his face as he gazed through their spindly trunks and limbs. How many revolutionary minds had their leaves waved hello to, then goodbye? Jayce rolled down the window, sucking in a breeze laden with murk and duff. Could the trees, too, smell his uncertainty in the air?
Eventually, their line broke.
On the brochure Heimerdinger University had glittered under light so hopeful, it was as if the sun itself had been pissing on it. The picture had to have been doctored because the austere limestone façade approached like a looming promise, complete with parapets, Tudor windows, and even a tower. It humbled all those who dared think themselves grand compared to the centuries of knowledge that steeped into its walls. It remained tucked under the canopy like it made a point of remaining esoteric, even from the sun itself. Bold enough to impress, but small enough to refuse the masses. The place screamed all hail the history makers and history breakers.
Mad World ♬ was lowered to a respectable volume as the taxi pulled along gravel drive and stopped before the grand double doors. Jayce patted the seat in front of him to emphasize his appreciative, “Thanks, man,” before getting out and unloading his bags. He’d hardly shut the trunk before the car pulled away, smoke pluming out the driver’s side window. As the dented yellow frame disappeared through the trees, so went Jayce’s last chance at escape.
Wood groaned off anguished hinges, then a pitchy voice followed, “Jayce Talis?” Everyone knew that voice. It reigned over public radio and television.
Jayce turned, gravel grinding beneath the soles of his freshly washed Adidas. “Yes.”
“Sprockets! But your face is just as handsome in the flesh as it is in black and white.” Chancellor Cecil B. Heimerdinger came trotting down the flared stone steps of his former vacation home. “I’m tremendously proud to have obtained Piltover Academy’s golden boy. You will certainly brighten up our already impressive roster.”
Jayce’s back went rigid. Obtained?
“It’s an honor to meet you,” said Jayce, offering a smile and his hand. “Your work in green energy is a great inspiration to me.”
Heimerdinger’s hand was incredibly small in Jayce’s, but his grip was impressive, obviously accustomed to working with machinery. So, Jayce matched his strength and hoped he shined as brightly as the industrial magnate had expected from him.
“Which you, hopefully, will revolutionize with this Hextech theory of yours,” Heimerdinger chirped, his round cheeks pumping up further with his keen smile. Then he turned gestured to the entryway where a young woman with kinky hair up in a voluminous bun waited. “This is Miss Young, she’s filling in for my assistant at the moment since he’s teaching a class, but you’ll meet him in no time. Professor V, as you’ve hopefully read in your welcome packet, will be your thesis supervisor. I have a meeting to get to soon, so Miss Young will take over the full tour, but for now, you can follow me!” He took one look at Jayce’s suitcases, then promptly turned about and scurried up the steps.
Jayce supposed that was his cue to handle his luggage on his own. Which wasn’t a problem. Having something to hold onto would help conceal his jitters. As he climbed, plastic wheels bumped like a soldiers march in his wake, and he couldn’t shake the dread of those grand double doors. They waited open like the maw of some ancient beast of lore. Patient and ravenous. The meager light of midday was swallowed by the threshold, and once he stepped through, the rattle of heavy wood and a sliding bolt trapped him in the gloom.
It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, but then he spotted rays of light cutting through windows and heard laughter bubble down the halls. They were a much needed balm to his racing heart.
“This way!” Heimerdinger delved into the bowels of the university at a pace that declared he always expected others to follow.
Miss Young offered a cheery smile and said, “Better keep up. He’s fast.”
Jayce hadn’t realized he was standing frozen, like his feet were weighed down by the sheer opulence that surrounded him. He strode over ornate rugs, passed alcoved statues of famous thinkers, and… “No way.” Jayce hasted up to the painting of two cypresses towering over a field of wheat, backed by a heaving sky. “Is this real?”
“Yes,” said Heimerdinger, not even sparing a glance at the original van Gogh slapped onto a random spot on the wall like it was any other market print. “Come along, Jayce, I want to show you the lab.” Jayce and Miss Young flanked the University’s chancellor as he went on, “These are hallowed halls of progress, reserved for the brightest minds to tread. Great thinkers are not born here, no, they are collected, refined. You see, I go through great pains to scout talent from all over the world, and…”
A shiver made the hairs on the back of Jayce’s neck stand. There it was again. Collected.
As they strode through the corridors, Heimerdinger boasting endlessly about his success at discovering geniuses, Jayce only halfway ironically expected Gnossienne No. 1 ♬ to float through some forgotten room, slow and melancholic. An omen of decay and suspense. The walls closed in like purgatory for bravado, but the dust motes clouded as if the ambrosia of ego. Brilliance was meant to be quiet here. Shrewd, proud, but precise. No room for blunder nor learning from mistakes. One leaped only if the margin of error was as narrow as the gaps between the trees outside. Then, if one didn’t land properly, broken and bloodied, their body fertilized the soil. A tragic story used to inspire the next generation of eager brilliance.
“Here we are!” Heimerdinger shouldered his way through a door that led into a bright room compared to the rest of what Jayce had seen so far of the manor. The lab was obviously old, but modern updates had been installed, and everything was well maintained. Respected. “There are several labs in the university, but this one reserved for PhD students and candidates. Of which, we only have two enrolled. You and Miss Young.”
“Oh.” said Jayce, blushing furiously as he took in his peer. “Sorry, I thought you were a professor. What’s your thesis on?”
Miss Young giggled. “The development of bio-inspired materials and structures for tissue engineering and regenerative medicine.”
“Biomaterial engineering.” Jayce’s smile turned real for the first time since he arrived. “Wow, you’re smart.” He wanted to smack himself. Get it together, Talis. “I look forward to hearing more about it, Miss Young.”
“Call me Sky.” She held out her hand and they shook.
“Yes, well, I’m off. Progress doesn’t wait! If you need anything, just tell my assistant.” Heimerdinger trotted to the door and flashed a grin. “It was wonderful to meet you Jayce. I’ll see you two at the department meeting in two days. Toodaloo!”
Jayce blinked after him. “He’s…”
“You’ll get used to it.” Sky shook her head fondly. “Why don’t I show you to your accommodations so you can set down your stuff, then we can do the rest of the tour?”
“Great, yeah. Thanks.”
As Sky showed him the way, leading him up the stairs, she went over the basic structures of the school. The departments were all very small, such that there were rarely more than ten students in any given classroom course at a time. Everything from theoretical physics to painting was taught, because innovation in art often inspired innovation in science, and vice versa. The line distinguishing them was thinner than most ever cared to acknowledge. Creating was creating, whether it happened in a lab or in a studio.
“Living quarters are broken up into staff and students, each taking up the South and West wings respectively. But since you and I are both student and staff, a sort of in-between, our dorms are…” Sky huffed as she approached an unassuming door on the third floor of the East wing. “To be honest, we were stuck into whatever extra nook they could find.” Sky unlocked the door. “This used to be a storage room apparently.”
A single small circular window hung high on the back wall. Pushed against one wall, a full size bed took up half the space, and a bureau fit right in the space between it and the opposing wall. Lastly, a small wooden desk and chair with a glass lamp sat right next to the door.
“It’s all I need.” Jayce settled his luggage before the bureau to be dealt with later. “What did your room used to be?”
“A nursery. It’s in the North wing. It’s slightly bigger than this. You’ll be moved into it next year.”
“Something to look forward to,” Jayce chuckled.
“Here’s the key.” Sky dropped it into Jayce’s hand. “Try not to lose it, there’s only one other spare.”
Jayce tensed. “Uh…and if, hypothetically, I do misplace it?”
Sky smirked. “The spare is in custodial office.”
Noted. He wasn’t exactly famous for being organized.
As Sky led him away, Jayce slipped the key into his pocket.
“This, the East wing is the science department. The third floor, as your room’s former purpose suggests, is mostly storage. You’ll get a student or professor up here occasionally, but for the most part, you’ll be left alone. It’s one of the benefits of this room. My room is on the first floor of the North Wing, near the entrance. It’s the art department, and—” Sky hissed “—let’s just say, the art students are stressed.”
“Up late working on projects?”
“Among other things.” Both mischief and exhaustion laced her features.
“Oo.” Jayce hid his blush by pretending that his attention was captured by a fairly simple and dusty vase on display. “And they don’t use the dorms for such activities?”
“Well, as you said, they’re already up late working on projects, so I suppose it just saves time to stay where they are. Then they can get right back to work when they finish.” She led them up a narrow stairwell.
Jayce laughed, feeling a little lighter. Sky was really refreshing.
“I have to admit, I was pretty nervous coming here, and this place—” he gestured to the University as a whole “—it’s intimidating.”
“It’s all about perspective, Jayce. If you want to see doom and gloom, that’s what this place will be for you, but if you shift angles…” Sky opened the door at the top of the stairs. The forest stretched out beyond the parapet, a sea of treetops undulating like waves under a bright sun.
Jayce crossed the rooftop and turned his face up to the sun, breathed in the fresh breeze, and the clouds parted as if just to prove Sky’s point.
He turned to her. “Thank you.”
“We’re not really supposed to be up here, but…” Sky shrugged, joining him by the parapet. “I didn’t get where I am by following rules.”
“Intriguing.” Jayce nudged her shoulder.
“Just you wait.” She nudged him back, then stretched. “Alright, let me show you the rest.”
The school had everything one would expect of an old, prestigious university. Classrooms, recreational spaces scattered about at random, and a humble weight room, which Jayce would absolutely be taking advantage of.
“Oh, where am I supposed to shower?” said Jayce.
“There’s an emergency shower and toilet in our lab. It’s walled off, so you don’t have to worry about being walked in on. I did it last year, it’s not so bad. If you have preferred shower times, I’ll gladly accommodate you.”
“Thanks.” It wasn’t ideal, but at least their lab was close, just a floor below his room.
After, they went to the main office so he could phone his mother to let her know he’d arrived safely, then Sky showed him to the classroom he would be teaching his arcanic engineering class in—also on the second floor of the science wing. Jayce had never taught before, so he’d sweated over his lesson plan all summer, asking detailed advice from his favorite professors at PA. He’d also practiced lectures with his mother, hoping that if she, someone with rudimentary understandings of his field after listening to years of monologuing over his classwork, could understand him, then his students would too.
He turned about in the quiet space. The windows were large, allowing lots of light in. The chalkboard was deep green, freshly washed. The desks were marked up from decades of restless students. Jayce smiled as he ran his fingers over an engraved heart encasing two initials, wondering if J and V ever got together in the end, if they were still together, if they had become worlds apart.
“You hungry?” Sky checked her wristwatch by the door. “Dinner’s started.”
The dining hall was the largest space in the university. Once a ballroom, if Jayce had to guess, by the palladian windows and imposing painting of Heimerdinger himself hanging to one side. Large round tables were scattered around, with some smaller tables tucked between the odd gaps. Food was served buffet style on both sides of the space. Since there were probably about two hundred or so students and about fifty staff members trickling in rather than all arriving at once, the lines moved fairly swiftly. Jayce followed Sky’s lead, plating himself a helping of greens, meat, and fresh bread to dip into the sauce, then followed her to a round table already occupied by two other women.
“Sky! Whose pretty boy here?” said a pink-haired woman, who was sizing him up as if she was discerning exactly who would win an arm wrestle.
“This is the new PhD student. Jayce,” said Sky, as she sat beside her. “Jayce, this is Vi.”
Jayce put himself on the other side of Sky, then reached out to shake her hand. Vi squeezed hard, a gleam in her eyes. She definitely wanted a challenge.
“Nice.” Vi let go and clapped her hand on the other woman in their company, seated between her and Jayce. She had shoulder length dark blue hair and a calculative expression. “This here’s Cait. We’re fifth years, starting our masters.”
“Lovely to meet you, Jayce,” said Cait, also shaking his hand. Gentle, but assertive. Her accent was posh enough to imply it wasn’t just regional, but supported by lineage.
“What tracks are you taking?” Jayce cut into his food, eager to get a bite. It smelled fantastic.
“I’m a criminal justice major. Vi’s a physical therapy major,” said Cait, holding her utensils with her elbow off the table and her back straight.
In contrast, Vi sat with one foot up on the seat and ripped into her food like she’d hunted it herself and was feasting on the spoils. “I can probably help with that shoulder imbalance. Right one needs some lovin’. Let me guess, football player?”
Jayce chuckled. “To the dismay of many over the course of my life, no, I’m not a football player. I was practically raised in a forge.”
“Blacksmithing?” said Cait. “How…medieval.”
“Not really. It was the start of my father’s factory business. Learned a lot about materials and how to manipulate them. Was the springboard to my engineering fascination.” Popping his fork into his mouth, Jayce moaned, “Oh, man, this is really good.”
“Yeah, Jericho’s the best,” said Vi. “He’ll give you the recipe if you ask.”
“The chef,” Cait clarified.
The two seemed to balance one another, sort of hovered in one another’s orbit. They sat close and stole glances that carried little smiles suggesting that they were amused by some private joke or another.
“So, engineering? Studying the same stuff as Sky?” said Vi, cheeks full.
“Jayce is an arcanic engineer,” said Sky. “Really fascinating stuff.”
“Shit.” Vi’s brows popped up. “Your face gonna melt off with all that crystal radiation?”
“Vi.” Cait jabbed an elbow into Vi’s side.
Vi took it as if made of brick. “What?”
“That’s all propaganda from oil and gas companies,” said Jayce. “They fear the impact of clean, renewable energy. Arcanic engineering is fascinating because of how adaptable it is. It harnesses the—” As he spoke, he dreaded the inevitable boredom that would dull over everyone eyes, smiles falling flat. But Sky, Vi, and Cait alike all posed insightful questions or offered comments with related expertise, only prompting him further, and Jayce realized with every passing word that he was actually speaking to an enthusiastic audience. Motivated, he allowed himself to delve deeper not only into his expertise, but into his own story, and was met with equal vulnerability.
Cait opened up about her family’s derision over her choice pursue an independent career rather than following their footsteps of investment and acquisition. Her drive was decidedly motivated by their unethical practices. Vi talked on how she’d been an underground fighter who, after a rough blow knocked her out of the game forever, latched onto physical therapy like a lifeline. Apparently, she was now four years sober. Would have been five, but she’d lost her dad after freshmen year of undergrad. Sky also had humble roots and had to claw her way out of the foster system. Hopped from underprivileged school to the next, until one high school teacher saw just how hungry she was to learn and helped set her on the right path.
As the conversation flowed and Jayce’s stomach filled, the world had faded into twilight, making the chandeliers—repurposed to fit bulbs instead of candles—glow more prominently, casting everything in soft yellow. Laughter and conversation filled the space, and the stone walls insulated the warmth generated by bodies and food. There was companionship and warmth to be found in this place after all, and Jayce’s nerves had calmed considerably.
Halfway listening to the conversation at his table, Jayce looked around the room at his peers. Might some of them become study buddies or even friends? Some were his students, and he wondered which faces fit the names on his roster. There were professors too, easily located by their wrinkled wisdom. Jayce’s eyes snagged on an attractive figure here or there, but he hadn’t come to Heimerdinger for dalliances. Furthermore, he was both student and teacher, the line of courtship felt muddy nor worth the risk.
Tufts of brown hair in the far corner caught Jayce’s eye because they crowned the only person sitting alone in this space of enthusiastic chatter. The slim man leisurely nibbled on a forkful as he gazed at a book next to his plate. He was too far to see much detail, but his refined cheekbones and the lithe fingers turning the page determined Jayce’s initial impression of him. Pretty.
“Hell yeah, brownies are out!” Vi hopped out of her seat. “Gonna snag them before they disappear. Who wants? Pretty boy, you still with us?”
“Brownies sound great,” said Jayce, figuring a little sugar would do him some good and stood to join Vi. “I’ll help carry.”
꧁꧂
Jayce hung the last shirt in the bureau, then closed it. After situating his empty suitcases under the bed—the only place they fit—he checked, then double checked, that he had all his research, materials, Walkman, and thermos of coffee that he’d filled during dinner in his messenger bag before heading out, locking the door behind him. He’d decided to clasp his room key onto a Mexican flag keychain slash bottle opener that stayed linked to his bag. Being scatterbrained was one of his biggest struggles, but he’d become much more comfortable with his quirks after receiving his ADHD diagnosis a couple years ago.
The night darkened corridors tested Jayce’s big-strong-man credentials. Not that he typically flaunted his size or gender, but he understood the privileges that came with them. In fact, he often tried to mitigate the imposition of his stature with kind gestures and smiles. However, as he strode through the morose halls and stairs, he cursed himself for rewatching Spellcaster last week. It been goofy at the time, but now, surrounded by mysterious doors and antiques? Imagination was always more vivid in the dark. Psycho Killer ♬ looping in his head like a mocking earworm, Jayce hurried for the library.
The door creaked as he entered—it seemed that all the doors creaked in this place—and the first huff of bibliosmia shot up Jayce’s nostrils like heroin, sending his heart a flutter and his mind rearing to absorb every morsel of information that was tucked between the acid-yellowed pages. Libraries were more holy a sanctuary than any church, brimming with knowledge and acceptance.
Sky hadn’t let Jayce delve too deeply during their tour, promising he’d become deeply intimate with the place over the coming two years, so he was excited to explore. The lighting was kept dim, and with the semester barely starting, there were only a few people scattered about, taking up spots on the main study tables by little orange lamps. There were stacks upon stacks, and Jayce counted off the categories as he strode past, familiarizing himself with their order. Astronomy became biology became chemistry became, “Engineering.”
Jayce froze at the end of the aisle.
The pretty man from the dining hall was reaching for a high book. Only now, Jayce could see his bottom half, and that he was leaning on a cane—the handle an ergonomic grip in shining silver and the shaft a black stained wood. He looked like the lord of the library.
“Let me get that for you.” Jayce swept in and grabbed the book the man’s elegant fingers could only brush. With his best smile, Jayce held it out. “Here.”
It was as if Jayce had offered a pile of shit. With a cutting look, sharper than broken glass, the man said, “Did I ask for your assistance?”
Jayce could barely appreciate his buttery voice wrapped in a savory accent with how taken aback he was. “Uh, no? I guess.”
“You guess?” That sharp gaze of burning gold narrowed. “Did you hear me order you to retrieve the book for me or not?”
“No…no.” Jayce looked at the book in his hands, Biomedical & Human Factors Engineering Vol. 14. Tried handing it over again. “Sorry. You’re right to call me out. Bad habit of mine I suppose, assuming my help is wanted just because I want to give it.”
The lord of the library kept staring, as if calculating the sum of Jayce’s character. Whatever conclusion he came to didn’t appear to be in Jayce’s favor. He took the book, holding it against his chest. “What good is an apology that begs for sympathy? Is that another habit of yours?”
“Is wh— what?”
“Begging.”
Jayce stammered, body turning hot as magma. “I—”
In the sanctuary of the library, Jayce blasphemed and prayed to God for strength.
“I see…well, if you’ll let me get back to my research…”
“Right. Uh, right.” Jayce rubbed the back of his neck, cursing himself for fumbling so enormously. This man was likely in the engineering department if he was pulling a tome like that, and the departments were small. It was likely they were going to see one another again. Oh, fuck, what if he’s one of my students? He certainly looked young enough, around Jayce’s age. Best to retreat before things became any worse. “Goodnight then.”
Jayce turned on his heel and fled the engineering section in search of a table.
On the second floor, under a window glowing with a waxing crescent moon, he settled at a small wooden table. Shadows coiled between the distant trees, daring prey to enter. Jayce didn’t dare, however tempted a part of him was after such a horrendous failure. Unaccustomed to being disliked, Jayce’s stomach twisted as he pulled out his work. He’d wanted to go over his lesson plan and prep for his meeting with his thesis supervisor tomorrow.
But as he flipped though his notebook and printouts, all he kept hearing the man’s disdain entwining those two syllables. Begging.
Jayce had to drown it out, or else he might go mad. Or worse, combust and burn down the library.
Clapping on his headphones, Jayce clicked play on the cassette that was already in his Walkman, a collection of classical pieces that helped him focus. It picked up on Mozart’s Requiem ♬. The haunting voices echoed the lament in Jayce’s chest much too closely. It made him itch to tear open his own seams just so he could drain the shame and regret. Blood splatter be damned if it brought relief. Stains could be washed. Ego, however, could not.
Jayce ripped out the offending cassette and shuffled through his bag for another. When he found one he liked, he clapped it in and slammed the play button. Eric Cameron quelled the worst of Jayce’s cresting anxiety into a quiet hum with Hungry Eyes ♬, lulled by sax and synth. Feeling better, he tugged the chain of the little table lamp, making the bulb flicker on, the light captured Jayce’s reflection in the window, and when he turned to look out, cutting gold eyes stared back.
Jayce gasped, standing, chair legs screeching against the floor.
It took too many racing heartbeats for him to realize it was his own golden eyes judging him.