Chapter Text
“Are you serious!?” Powder’s indignant voice echoes against the walls of the living room. Vi flinches against the shrill squeak. “Her?”
Vander, the voice of reason, cuts into the madness from his seat on the couch. “It’s alright, Powder. Have you looked into getting transferred to another course?”
Powder continues to pace around the room, letting out unintelligible grumbles and snarls while staring at her phone as if it had wronged her personally. Vi leans against the kitchen counter, not unsympathetic to her little sister’s plight; she too had been forced to take a lot of shitty professors back in her college years.
That was a long time ago, though. Now, Vi is 31 years old and about to start her first semester as a tenure track professor at Piltover State University, teaching sociology to undergrads. She had enjoyed her previous position as an assistant professor at Zaun Community College, but when the opportunity to teach at her sister’s school for better pay came knocking, well, Vi wasn’t about to say no. Though, as she’s currently learning, working at a Piltovan college comes with some… challenges.
“It’s no use. I need this math credit to graduate, and she’s the only one teaching the class,” Powder groans, letting her phone-hand fall to her side. “I bet she’s a fucking bitch to take.”
Vi can see the beginnings of a rage-induced rant start to take hold of Powder, and she scrambles to try and squash it before she goes off the rails. “Pow,” she says, pushing away from the counter to take her sister by the shoulders, “come on. You don’t even know anything about her. Yeah, it sucks that you’re stuck being taught by one one of them, but maybe she’s not as bad as her parents,” she reasons.
Powder scoffs, throwing her hands up and waving her phone around like it didn’t cost Vi four hundred dollars. “Little baby Kiramman, barely out of the nest, raised in that rich, sheltered family? I bet she hates us even more than her parents do.”
It might be true. Vi has never met the woman, and she, too, has less than favorable thoughts on that whole family—less than favorable being a huge fucking understatement, how could she not hate them after what happened—but it’s possible that their daughter could be marginally more bearable. God, she hates this whole situation, but she has to look for positives somewhere.
“You’ll only know once you’ve started classes.” Vander takes a sip of his drink, brow furrowed as he watches his daughters squabbling. “You’re not going to start skipping classes in your final year of university, are you?” He gives a stern tilt of his head that says there is a right answer to this question.
“No, Vander,” Powder singsongs. “Still gonna become an engineer, even if it means getting sneered at by the Kirammans’ spoiled kid.”
“Hey, cheer up, Pow,” Vi says. “At least you’ve managed to avoid taking Talis.”
Powder shudders. “I passed him in the hallway once. I don’t think he recognized me, thank god.” She pauses, raising an eyebrow at Vi. “Isn’t it gonna be weird being colleagues with him? Does he know he’s gonna have to work with the chick who, um… broke into his apartment as a kid?"
And that’s exactly what Vi’s been worried about—horrible luck, really, for everyone involved, for them to all end up teaching at the same university. “I’m sure he knows. From what I hear, him and Kiramman are still buddy-buddy, too.”
Powder throws her hands up, the phone almost slipping from her grasp at this point. She really needs to be more careful with that thing. “Oh, great. Now Kiramman has at least two reasons to hate you. What if she tries to get you fired? What if, what if—”
“That won’t happen, Powder. PSU already has a record of my criminal history. They know I’m an ex-con.”
Powder sighs and Vander once again cuts in to back Vi up. “It’ll be fine, Powder. Your sister has a good head on her shoulders. If the rich girl tries to bully her, she’ll know how to handle it.”
“Yeah, Pow.” Vi ruffles her hair, and she pouts under the affection. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve only gotta survive two more semesters, and then my sister’s a college grad. Piltie professor or no Piltie professor.” Even saying it aloud feels surreal—it never gets any less strange, the mixed pride and wonder at watching her little sister grow into an adult before her eyes.
A real, genuine smile alights in Powder’s eyes before her little sister is wrapping her arms around her and burying her face in her collarbone. Vi holds her tight and smiles into her hair, and damn it, she’s gonna cry again, isn’t she?
“Don’t you cry on my hair, you little sap.”
“I wasn’t going to!” Vi lies. Weird how the years have only made her more sentimental.
Later that night, Vi is sprawled out on her bed, half-asleep, glasses falling off her face as she replies to emails on her laptop. Her first semester as a full-time sociology professor starts tomorrow, and she should be getting to sleep considering it’s already creeping up on 11:00 p.m…
But her mind gets away from her. She can’t stop thinking about Powder’s new geometry instructor, the Kirammans’ daughter. Vi had been trying to forget about her, about that whole ordeal, and for most of her life she had mostly managed to—until now. Vi had never actually met her, somehow, but she vividly remembers seeing pictures of her, back when the whole break-in debacle was going on—she must’ve been, what, 10 or 11 years old back then? All Vi can conjure up is a blur of dark blue hair, the same blue as her father who had pushed for a harsher sentence for Vi, and blue eyes, the same blue as her mother who had demanded justice for the careless delinquent who could’ve killed her young daughter in that explosion. Her mother, who Vi had last spoken to through the glass of a prison visitation screen.
Suddenly a wave of guilt washes over Vi, because she can’t reconcile her instinctual hostility toward the daughter of the Kiramman family with the scared, bruised face of that young girl in her memory. She needs to find a new, older face to direct her ire at, so she opens a new tab and searches for that name that had been burned permanently into her mind: Caitlyn Kiramman.
And holy fuck, she even has her own Wikipedia page. Vi clicks on it instantly and is met with a pretty short article—not surprising, considering she’s the relatively young daughter of an influential-but-not-famous-famous figure. Vi’s eyes are immediately drawn to the picture, a headshot apparently taken two years ago during a photoshoot.
Those same blue eyes and blue hair against a background of greenery. Sharp, smooth features: an angular nose, a furrowed brow. She’s looking into the camera here, a slight smile playing on her lips, contrasting her stern eyes, like she knows something Vi doesn’t. Vi tears her gaze away from the picture and skims the biography—she was born on January 4th in England 24 years ago. So she’s seven years younger than Vi, and—why is Vi comparing Caitlyn’s age to her own, anyway? She brings that train of thought to a screeching halt before it can go anywhere.
According to the article, Caitlyn got her MS in mathematics at Piltover State University and now works as an instructor of record there. Everything else in the article is unimportant information about her upbringing, her family moving to the States, so on and so forth, and—oh.
There’s a blurb in the early life section dedicated to the incident with the explosion, even naming Vi directly.
On October 8th, Kiramman was minorly injured in an explosion caused by a break-in to her older friend Jayce Talis’ apartment. An 18 year old named Violet Lanes, along with two of her younger siblings, broke into the building with the intent to burglarize it. Kiramman and Talis were attempting to enter the apartment when…
Vi stops reading there. No reason to relive that whole shitshow.
Even with all this new information she’s gleaned—and yes, Vi is well aware by now that she’s being nosy—she still doesn’t really have a sense of Caitlyn’s personality, of how she might treat Vi and Powder once she’s forced to share a campus with them. Quickly, Vi hits the back button and scrolls down to find her page on a site for reviewing professors (one she knows quite well after all the time she’s spent stalking her own reviews).
There are only three reviews for an instructor Kiramman teaching math—makes sense, considering this is her second year.
5/5 - Professor Kiramman loves her students and wants them to succeed. She can be a little strict at times but that’s only because she has high standards for everyone who takes her.
5/5 - Gives great lectures and engages with everyone. Very easy to get into contact with. Clearly very passionate about what she teaches.
4/5 - Not an easy class! There is a lot of material but professor Kiramman makes it engaging when it would otherwise be boring.
So her students like her alright. That’s a good sign, right?
Vi sighs and closes her laptop. Only time will tell. Vi, for her part, is kind of hoping she doesn’t ever run into her, if that’s even possible. It might be just a tad awkward to come face to face with the woman who she could’ve accidentally killed as a kid—what would she even say? Hey, I’m that older teenager who broke into your friend’s place. How have the years been treating you? You’re not traumatized, are you? Do you want a 13-years-too-late apology?
Vi puts it out of her mind as best she can. She tries to put everything out of her mind except for her first class tomorrow morning.
When Vi wakes up the next morning, she’s not thinking about the explosion or Caitlyn Kiramman or anything except her first day as a professor at Piltover State University. She drags herself out of bed absurdly early and makes herself a quick cup of coffee, then eats some protein-packed waffles alone at the dining table. She’s gotten well-acquainted with going about her daily routine by herself, and it’s all well and good as she doesn’t think too much about what it might be like to have another person sitting across from her, enjoying her cooking with a big smile on their face.
It’s not that Vi isn’t looking for a partner, though she isn’t actively searching for one. The more life goes on, the more frustrated she’s become trying to find someone who she really clicks with on a level above the sexual—and even that has been hit or miss. There was Sarah, who she was able to have a fun time with for a good long while, but who had made it clear to her that she wasn’t looking for a relationship. Then there was Ahri, who had found her too… intense.
She gets that a lot. She’s always too loud, too volatile, too preoccupied with her family, too much. And on those rare occasions when she finally thinks she has a connection going, there’s always something. Hey, I’m moving across the country. Hey, I don’t love you anymore. Hey, I’m cheating on you with my best friend.
For now, one night stands are enough to slake her thirst for intimacy. Maybe someday Vi will find a woman to sit across from her at that table and eat her cooking with a beaming smile. Maybe someday Vi’s siblings will stop teasing her about being unable to be tied down. Maybe.
She silently finishes her waffles, and then that silence is promptly broken by a ding from her phone, then another, the screen lighting up to show two texts from her sister.
Powder
you awake yet asshat?
just making sure you’re not sleeping in
She snorts and types a few quick texts back.
Me
That was one time Powder
And yeah I am
You ready for classes?
Powder
i’ve calmed down since yesterday
ready to absolutely CRUSH that geometry class
Vi smiles at her phone, and some distant part of her mind muses, why would she even need a partner, anyway? She already has the sturdiest support network she could possibly ask for in her family. That has to be enough. Surely, that’s enough.
When she’s finally made herself presentable and gathered all her materials for the day, Vi goes to start her car and is met with a pathetic spluttering, as if the vehicle is begging her for death. Vi, however, is not merciful enough to grant it, twisting the key a few more times before the old hunk of junk finally, reluctantly, roars to life.
“There you go, buddy,” she says, patting the dashboard of the car like it’s her geriatric dog who she’s finally convinced to eat some kibble.
She finds a spot in one of PSU campus’s overbooked parking lots two hours before her first class begins and makes her way across the quad, pushing through bustling crowds of students and dodging a few scooters. An unpleasantly familiar sense of anxiety starts to build in her chest as she heads through the door of her building, scanning the room numbers for room 130, ready to set down her laptop and prep for her first class. What she abso-fucking-lutely does not expect is to see a head of dark blue hair peeking out from the room opposite hers.
No. There is simply no fucking way. The universe doesn’t hate her that much, does it?
Apparently it does, because Vi notices the placard on the wall and reads it with her own two eyes, then reads it again just to make sure they aren’t playing a nasty prank on her.
Caitlyn Kiramman. MATH 4005.
The Caitlyn Kiramman in question still hasn’t turned around yet, busy adjusting the blinds on the window. Vi ducks inside her own classroom and then shuts the door with a bang like a fucking gunshot.
Fuck. Shit. Of course this would happen. Of fucking course this would happen. If she had known Kiramman worked here, she would’ve never taken this job in the first place. She should have checked first—now she’s being punished for her indiscretion.
It wouldn’t be possible to just lock herself in this classroom and slip out silently every single day, eluding her completely, would it? Probably fucking not, so Vi has to settle for the second best option: avoiding her until the two of them are inevitably forced to acknowledge each other’s existence.
Unless Caitlyn has seen the name on her placard, in which case she might be avoiding Vi too.
Or maybe she’s been actively waiting on Vi to get here in order to bark at her for having the audacity to show her face at Caitlyn’s place of work.
Vi falls against the door and sighs, then shakes her head, reality suddenly flooding back into her brain along with the realization that she’s being horribly immature about this. There’s no way she can avoid Caitlyn forever, and giving her the cold shoulder will only serve to exacerbate the tension between them. Having a room neighbor who thinks she’s a criminal and a coward is probably not the best way to spend her first semester at PSU.
She’s going to have to face Caitlyn eventually. It’ll happen one way or another, at a faculty meeting or just walking past each other on the way to their respective rooms. But for now, Vi reasons that she should probably give the other woman space.
So she sits down at her desk and opens up her laptop, trying to set her mind to prepping for her first class, opening up her slideshow and the syllabus before sorting unread emails and planning her lecture for the day. She’s finally managed to push the Caitlyn bullshit to the back of her mind when a light knock sounds against the door.
Vi’s voice is weak and desiccated when it rasps, “Come in.”
And all of Vi’s planning suddenly gets thrown out the window because it’s her. Of course it is.
She pushes the door open with a slight hesitance, as if Vi might be changing clothes or something. Once she’s inside, she just stares, and Vi is overwhelmed by the sight of her.
She’s so tall. Vi had only seen her face before, and holy shit, seeing her in the flesh is like looking at a whole different person. Her gaze drops to Caitlyn’s shoes and works its way upward, taking in long, long legs under dark, tight pants, thin hands clasped awkwardly in front of the hem of her black turtleneck, the ample swell of her breasts—which Vi does her best to skip over, even if her eyes try to fight her on that—and finally, her face. God, that face.
Vi hadn’t been prepared for how blue her eyes would be, how they could pierce through her even from the opposite side of a room, even through the lenses of her circle glasses. The look in those eyes is one she hasn’t quite seen before, markedly different from the picture on her Wikipedia page. More open.
It takes a few moments for Vi to realize they’ve just been sitting there staring at each other. She abruptly stands up. With all the grace and tact in the world, she says, “Um.”
“Hello,” Caitlyn greets, tucking back a loose strand that had fallen from her dark ponytail. They still haven’t moved from their spots on opposite sides of the classroom. “You’re Dr. Violet Lanes, is that right?”
“Uh—um. Yeah. Vi, actually. That’s me.”
“Oh. Alright, Vi. You can call me Caitlyn, then.” Vi blinks, realizing too late that Caitlyn had interpreted that as an invitation to a first-name basis.
“Uh, nice to meet you. Did you…” She trails off as Caitlyn walks toward her.
“This is your first semester here, correct?” Caitlyn smiles, running a hand absently across a desk. And fuck, under any other circumstance Vi would be biting her lip and daydreaming about how exactly she could wreck that smile, but this is her coworker who’s seven years her junior, who she could’ve killed in an explosion 13 years ago, and whose whole family hates her guts because of it. Don’t even think about it.
“Yep. Sociology.” Vi forces herself to look at the oak tree out the window, anywhere other than those bright blue eyes because otherwise she will think about it. “How about you?”
Vi already knows, of course, but she can’t let Caitlyn find out she’d stalked her Wikipedia page. “This is my second year. Geometry.” She crosses her arms in the corner of Vi’s vision, then pauses after a breath as if considering something before continuing, “Vi, I just wanted to tell you that I bear no ill will towards you.”
Vi exhales deeply, a weight lifted from her shoulders. “Thanks for telling me. Wasn’t sure about that, so um… it’s nice to know.”
Caitlyn cocks an eyebrow playfully, the air between them turning tangibly more comfortable—or, at least, less tense—as she says, “What, did you think I still held a grudge against you for that?” Vi relaxes at her easy tone, relief washing over her.
“Your parents sure do.”
“I’m not my parents.”
Vi huffs and it’s almost a laugh. “And thank fuck for that.” She cringes at how blunt the sentiment comes out, but Caitlyn is already chuckling.
“They can be… difficult, sometimes. But never mind them. What about you?”
“Me?” What about Vi?
“How do you feel? About this, about…” She gestures between the two of them.
“Working with you?”
“Yes. Do you still—that is, are you… I know there’s still a significant amount of animosity between our families, and that goes both ways.” Caitlyn looks almost apologetic. Oh.
“Caitlyn, are you asking if I have it out for you?” Vi is surprised by just how easily and casually the first name slips out. Leaning against her desk, she laughs, “You had nothing to do with that whole incident—you were, like, 11. And you seem pretty alright to me.”
At that Caitlyn brightens up, and it’s as if a whole inch has been added to her height. “Good! I’m glad for that. I’m very, very glad.” Caitlyn extends a hand with all the grace of a woman who’d had propriety drilled into her from birth. “So. We’re on good terms, then?”
“All good, Caitlyn.” When Vi shakes Caitlyn’s soft hand, it’s absolutely dwarfed by Vi’s larger one, which she very pointedly does not think about at all. Nor does she think about that little gap in Caitlyn’s teeth as Vi sees her smile for the first time, or the almost imperceptible jiggle of her chest, or the fact that Caitlyn bears a frustrating resemblance to the type of woman Vi typically loves to take home and release some pent-up energy on.
Vi and Cassandra’s last conversation all those years ago still weighs heavy on her mind. But there’s something about this woman that makes Vi feel the need to get on her good side, to get a little closer to her, or else she’ll miss out on something special. Like a sort of magnetism, or gravity. A rightness.
After Caitlyn bids her goodbye and wishes her luck with her first class of the semester, Vi is uncomfortably aware of the distance between the two of them—even with only two doors separating them.
As the hour mark approaches, students begin filtering in one by one. Vi perks up when she sees a familiar head of white dreads, smiling at Ekko as he walks in, and he smiles back before claiming a seat at the front of class. It’ll probably be a little weird teaching someone who she considers practically her family, but at least she gets to see a familiar face three classes a week.
Once the classroom has filled up, Vi introduces herself to her students and welcomes them to the new semester. She gives her usual monologue about how she’s happy to be teaching them and thankful to all of them for being here, then runs through a few first-day necessities like going over the syllabus introducing the course, smiling when she sees that most of them actually seem to be paying attention.
Vi can already tell the student body here is diverse. Teaching at Zaun’s sister city, there is predictably a much lower concentration of Zaunite students. Many of these students carry themselves in a distinctly Piltovan way, and when some of them speak up to ask questions about her office hours or late work policy, she hears a variety of accents, suggesting that young people have come from far and wide in order to study at PSU.
Vi can only hope she’ll be able to make that choice worth it. No pressure.
She dismisses class 20 minutes early, catching Ekko’s eye as he tries to leave only to be dragged back inside by none other than Powder, who marches up to Vi with a keyed up look in her eye.
“Did you know your classroom was right across from Kiramman’s?” That’s right—Powder had her class with Caitlyn during the same block as Vi’s first sociology class.
Ekko glances at his girlfriend apologetically, then back at Vi with a similar regretfulness, as if he can’t decide who to feel the most sorry for in this situation.
Vi doesn’t flinch. “Nope. Didn’t know until today.” She stands up, noting that Powder’s expression looks more contemplative than furious, as if whatever happened in her math class hadn’t followed her convoluted expectations. “Doesn’t matter, though. She won’t be giving me any trouble.”
“Are you sure?” Ekko says, crossing his arms. “Powder, how was she?”
“She was…” Powder makes a long, drawn-out noise of indecision, and Vi gets the sense she’s searching for a mean word for fine. “Boring.” Ah. There it is.
“Just boring?” Ekko prompts.
“Well, she didn’t try anything today. Just went over the syllabus in that grating accent.” Powder starts picking at her nails. “I don’t think she recognized me, but that’s not that surprising. Did she give you any trouble, Vi? I mean, being right next to you…”
“We talked.” Vi leans against her desk casually, and Powder and Ekko both widen their eyes in almost comical synchronicity.
“And?” Ekko says.
“She’s fine.” It’s clearly not the answer Powder’s looking for, but she doesn’t look disappointed, exactly, just bemused. “She doesn’t have anything against me. I don’t have anything against her.” Vi makes a dismissive gesture with her hand. “Water under the bridge.”
Powder scoffs, and Ekko looks indignant on Vi’s behalf. “Two years in prison is water under the bridge?” His brow furrows like a stern parent’s.
Vi sighs, affection mixing with frustration at Powder and Ekko’s behavior. Ever since the incident the two have decided it’s their job to be her advocates against any threat despite being 10 years younger than her. “Why do you two love putting words in my mouth? All I’m saying is she wasn’t even involved in that. I was worried she was going to kick my ass about the almost-blowing-her-up thing.” Vi sits her unkicked ass down on the edge of the desk, shrugging.
Powder harrumphs. “I still don’t like her. It’s like she thinks she’s… better than everyone.”
“Maybe so. I don’t think she’s the type to hold a grudge, though.”
Ekko hums. “Hey, I’d take that as a win. Just don’t do anything to upset her, or she might tattle to Mr. and Mrs. Kiramman,” he says with a snicker.
“Yeah, sis. Best to stay as far away as you can,” Powder tells her seriously, jabbing a finger towards the center of her chest. “She’s got fuck-you money and parents who hate your guts. She could absolutely ruin your life.”
“Yeah,” Vi says. “Maybe she could.”
Ekko says, “Either way, it’s not like she plans on marrying her or anything.”
Powder physically recoils, sticking out her tongue. “Don’t even put that thought in my head! Could you imagine, Ekko?”
Vi shakes her head at their disgusted expressions, smiling. “You two need to get to your next class.” She places one hand on each of their shoulders. “Don’t be late on your first day, you dorks.”
Ekko looks down at his watch and winces—“Shit, she’s right”—then takes Powder by the hand and starts to pull her toward the door.
“See ya, sis!” Powder skips out of the room, violently swinging Ekko’s hand in her own.
“Bye, Vi!” Ekko throws her a tense smile and a wave before being yanked away down the hallway.
Vi lets her smile linger for a few moments before sitting back down at her desk and prepping for her next class. It goes just as smoothly as the first and finishes even earlier, with a few students even lingering behind to introduce themselves.
She’s absolutely starving by the time her classroom empties of students, so she heads out as soon as possible with Jericho’s on her mind. As she passes by Caitlyn’s classroom she notices the door is open and the room seemingly empty. She must have left soon after her class ended.
All in all, Vi is pleased with her first day teaching at PSU, she thinks as she manages to start her car. It remains to be seen whether Jayce Talis will give her any shit, but as far as she knows they won’t be forced into any proximity with each other.
The only one she has to be concerned about is Caitlyn. Caitlyn Kiramman, who as of this moment is an utter enigma, a web of contradictions. Young and new to this profession, yet confident and dignified. Rich and privileged, yet strangely down-to-earth.
Vi wonders if she’ll be able to untangle that web of contradictions as the semester goes on. She pulls out of the parking lot, mind wandering over thoughts of blue hair, cerulean eyes, and gapped front teeth.