Chapter Text
Dear Ms. Medarda,
I am writing to you regarding a possible author Q&A, book signing, or reading for Jayce Talis’ new book Winter Night.
My name is Viktor Cain, and I am the owner of the Book Nook, an independent bookstore based in Piltover. Our readers have shown great interest in your client’s new release, and we have even chosen it as our monthly pick for our book club.
We regularly host intimate literary events and would love the opportunity to speak to the author and bring his work even closer to our local community. If this is something that could fit into the author’s schedule, I’d be happy to share more details about the shop and how we usually organize events like these. Alternatively, you can also take a look at the store's Instagram page linked below for more information.
I’m looking forward to hearing from you and possibly hosting Mr. Talis in the upcoming months.
Thank you for your time.
Best regards,
Viktor Cain
Owner, The Book Nook
www.instagram.com/thebooknook/
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Viktor slid the final new release of the week onto the fantasy shelf and took a step back to check whether everything was aligned just so. He nudged the first book backwards half an inch and smiled.
Satisfied with the way the spines complemented each other in height and color, he took his phone out of the pocket of his loose black pants and snapped a picture. It was mid-afternoon, and the shelf looked incandescent in the golden hour lighting. With some slight edits, the photo would look perfect on the shop’s Instagram feed.
Slipping the phone back into his pocket, Viktor retrieved his cane from where he’d rested it on the shelf and slowly made his way to the counter.
The bookshop was mercifully quiet and empty, as it typically was on Wednesday afternoons. This fact allowed Viktor some time to sit on his favorite stool behind the counter and rest his aching leg.
It was a mildly bad pain day. Viktor had felt a foreboding twinge in his knee the moment he’d stepped out of bed that morning, and the way the pain had slowly increased and traveled up to his hip ever since told him he was in for a restless night. The fact that he’d had to stand more than usual that day did not help.
Viktor was used to it, though. He was not one to take a day off and try to rest the pain away. It was not going anywhere, so why bother?
Instead, Viktor used his time to finally finish going through their latest shipment and wrap all the new books he’d chosen for the shop’s Date With a Book display. This one was more literary and women’s fiction based, as Women’s History Month was underway. In between that and helping out customers find what they needed, he had finally completed his latest review and posted it on his blog.
If someone had told him just a few days ago that he’d be giving a raving review to a book by Jayce Talis, Viktor would have laughed in their face.
And yet, the review sat there and greeted him in all its five-star glory when Viktor unlocked his tablet and navigated to his blog. He looked through the upload once more, scrolling so fast that he only caught bits and pieces of what he’d deliriously written right after finishing the book and edited just that morning.
There were hundreds of comments already, as Viktor had linked the review on a story he’d posted a few hours prior. Viktor only gave them a cursory glance as he scrolled, just in case some of them were inappropriate or needed removing. Otherwise, he left his followers alone and focused on the book quotes he’d highlighted in the review.
Even a week after finishing it, Viktor still couldn’t stop thinking about the novel.
It wasn't anything revolutionary, really. There were thousands of books out there with a similar premise, many of which Viktor had read. A man goes on a sabbatical from his high-stress job and aims to travel through his country? It was supposed to be a typical travel narrative, full of vivid descriptions and political commentary, all interspersed with the narrator's thoughts and mental state.
Fifty pages in, Viktor had only been mildly impressed. Talis’ writing style was as enticing and easily digestible as usual, but nothing had gripped Viktor's attention just yet. Still, he'd pressed on, as the novel was their book club pick, and he prided himself on always reading it, even if he didn't particularly like it.
Especially then; Viktor was not one to hate on things without actually engaging with them first.
This particular book seemed pretty formulaic—until it didn’t. About a hundred pages in, everything went to hell.
The man's relaxing voyage through picturesque fields and snow-capped mountains turned into a nightmare as he got caught in a blizzard. The harsh, unforgiving winds made advancing nearly impossible, while the snow and fog obscured his path. Knowing he wasn't equipped to wait in such weather, the narrator decided to walk through the blizzard, despite the danger that posed.
The man's trek started out well, and he actually managed to make some headway. But it was all cut short when he tripped and fell into a ravine. With his leg nearly shattered from the fall, he was forced to drag himself forward on his hands and knees for as long as he could.
But that wasn't what impressed Viktor, although he hadn't seen the plot twist coming. No, Viktor got sucked into the narrator's slowly disintegrating state of mind.
Though the narrator seemed deceptively calm and happy with his life in the beginning, the blizzard forced him to drop that veneer and show the audience what truly lurked beneath. The longer he remained lost and wandering, the more fragile his mind became.
What started out as easy prose slowly turned into a stream of consciousness narrative that became almost impossible to parse through by the novel's conclusion. So, when he read the final sentence and realized that was the end, Viktor had found that he wasn't sure whether the man had died, whether he'd been rescued, or whether he'd still remained stuck in the ravine, slowly freezing to death.
A week had passed from that sleepless night, and Viktor still thought about the book every free moment he had.
That's what ultimately drove him to message Talis’ agent.
He knew that it was a long shot, especially since he'd seen that Talis was going on a promo tour for the book in only a few days. A brief glance at his schedule told Viktor that he'd be visiting some of the country's biggest bookstores, none of which were independent or as small as his own.
But he tried anyway, simply because the book lover in him wanted to pick the author's brain until he learned it by heart.
Who was this man who could describe loneliness, listlessness, and despair so well? How did he manage to write about suicidal ideation so convincingly that Viktor felt his own demons, long buried in the past, thrash against the cages he had locked them in all those years ago?
Viktor wanted answers, and although his bookstore was small and his reviews weren't really that esteemed in the industry, he still had enough weight to pull and try to make it happen. Call him foolish, but he was not one to balk at a challenge.
After closing the tab with his blog post, Viktor checked his inbox one more time before sighing.
Mel Medarda was yet to reply.
“What's going on, Viki? You in pain?”
Viktor looked up at Sky's voice and watched as she dragged the rickety ladder they kept in their cramped office to the left side of the bookstore. She had a large tote bag full of fake vines slung over her shoulder, and Viktor bit his lip as he watched the greenery slip out and scatter all over the floor at Sky's feet.
“Do not laugh.” She huffed, throwing an accusatory glance in Viktor's direction.
“Wasn't going to.” The lie slid off Viktor's lips as easy as a breath, and Sky hummed as she crouched down to pick up the mess of the decorations off the shiny tiles.
Spring was on the way, so it was definitely time to add some greenery to their shelves. Viktor usually left such tasks to Sky, both because he could not climb ladders and because she was better at decorating and making the bookstore look cozy.
Books were his department. Everything else was Sky and Lest’s.
“Well? What's with the weathered sigh? Are you in pain?” Sky asked, throwing a quick look at Viktor over her shoulder.
Viktor cocked his head to the side. “No—not that much, anyway. I was just checking whether Jayce Talis’ agent has replied to my email about a Q&A.”
Stepping on the ladder, a string of vine in hand and ready to be hung on a shelf, Sky looked at Viktor, eyebrow raised in surprise.
“The thriller writer? You want him to come in for a talk?”
Viktor nodded, resisting the urge to tell Sky that the vine she just attached to the romance shelf was slightly crooked on one side. “His newest book isn't a thriller. They've classified it as literally fiction, although it's a multi-genre endeavor.”
“Oh? Didn't peg him for a lit-fic guy.”
“Neither did I, until now.”
Contrary to most people in his line of work, Viktor did not consider one genre of book to be above another. The main question he always asked himself when reviewing something was: is this book well written? The answer was what mattered, not the genre the novel belonged to.
So, when a new thriller sensation had taken the book community by storm about a decade ago, he'd given the author a fair chance from the get-go. At the time, Viktor had still been a PhD student posting reviews for fun between writing articles and applying for university job postings.
Besides, Dmitri, his then-fiancé, had raved about Talis, and Viktor had looked forward to finally getting to talk about fiction books with him.
To his eternal disappointment, Viktor had not liked the book. While the writing had been smooth and flowed really well, Viktor had simply found the novel...uninspired. He'd guessed the plot twist after the first chapter, and that ruined the entire experience for him. That did not stop the novel from becoming an instant bestseller, though.
Still, the worst part was, Viktor's review had made Dmitri scoff at him and call him a snob. It hadn't been the first time, but it was the first instance where Viktor thought his partner might have said it with disdain instead of amusement and affection.
So no, he hadn't been a huge Jayce Talis fan in the beginning. If Viktor was honest, he'd actually picked up Winter Night as a joke.
A famous thriller writer known for his predictable, formulaic cash-grab books disappears for two years and returns with a literary fiction novel? Viktor had to check it out, if only so he’d feel vindicated when he imagined his ex reading the book.
He planned to give the book fifty pages to impress him. After that, he was sure he’d just laugh at Talis’ frivolous attempt at serious writing, close the book, and go on with his life. But fifty pages turned to a hundred, and then more. Instead of skimming disinterestedly, Viktor found himself obsessively rereading line after line and looking for hidden meanings.
And now there he was. His book club was raving about the book two days before their scheduled meeting, and his own review was on-track to become one of his most popular yet, if the first-day numbers were any indication.
If only Dmitri could see him now.
“So what, you sent a message to his agent?” Sky's voice made Viktor jump, the sudden movement causing a sharp stab of pain in his hip.
“Yeah. I know it's not likely they'll say yes, but I wanted to try anyway.”
“Why isn't it likely?”
“He's a huge name. Biggest that we'd ever host, if he came.”
“Viktor.” He looked up and caught Sky's eye from across the room. “You run the most popular indie bookstore in the city. That guy would be lucky to come here.”
“I know that. I just meant that there isn't really an exposure incentive for him. He has all the fans he needs.”
“Well, I hope he agrees to come anyway.” Sky said, and Viktor just nodded.
“Me too. Can't remember the last time I actually couldn't put a book down. It kept me up all night.”
“You finally got laid?”
Viktor started as Lest appeared from behind him. He wheezed and coughed, and it turned into a fit that lasted entirely too long for his overworked lungs and left his chest painfully tight.
“Sorry, Vik. I didn't mean to startle you.” Lest said next to him, running a soothing hand down his back. Viktor gave her a watery smile.
“No worries, it wasn't your fault.”
“Need a glass of water?”
Viktor shook his head and rubbed his chest over his black turtleneck.
“So, did you? Get laid? Who kept you up all night?” Lest asked, raising her eyebrows suggestively.
Sky jumped in before Viktor could reply. “Jayce Talis did.”
“You fucked the thriller writer?”
Viktor sighed. “Obviously not. His book kept me up all night. That's what we were discussing.”
Lest shook her head, making her auburn hair swish around like a shiny curtain.
“Booo-ring!” She said in a sing-song voice. “And sad, honestly. Seriously, when are you going to get back out there?”
Chin propped on her hand and wide amber eyes trained on him, Lest looked like the image of innocence. Viktor knew better, though.
“I don't—”
“Lest is right. It's been two years since the divorce, Vik.” Sky jumped in.
“And God knows how many years before that when you and Dmitri weren't even sleeping in the same room.” Lest added.
Though Viktor knew they meant well, hearing them discuss the most painful period of his life so flippantly made him burn with shame. Sure, they were right, but he hated the reminder that the man he'd fallen for and given everything to couldn't even bear to sleep next to him by the end.
“I'm not looking for anything right now. And even if I was, Jayce Talis would not be my first choice.” He said, pretending to read something on his tablet to hide how watery his eyes have become.
Most days, Viktor was more than fine with the way his life had turned out. He was finally doing what he loved, and he didn't have to chip away at his soul and make himself smaller to fit into a world that did not want him. He also didn't have to beg someone for attention and pretend that the scraps he received were enough. When all was said and done, he was proud of himself for taking a chance and reaching for the life he'd always wanted—even if it had taken him four decades to be brave enough to do so.
But sometimes, when he was cold and curled on his side in bed at night, he missed having someone to lean on. Someone who'd ask about his day and listen as he vented about his pain. Someone who'd hold him until he fell asleep and kiss his hair right as he drifted away.
In those moments, Viktor almost regretted asking Dmitri for a divorce. As cold and dismissive as he had become by the end, he had still cared for Viktor for over fifteen years. It was better than anything Viktor had ever thought he'd get to have.
Now, he had the job he'd always wanted and friends who loved him for who he was. But it seemed that such independence came with a price of loneliness that Viktor wasn't always sure was worth paying.
“He is hot, though. If he comes for that talk, I'll be in the first row.” Sky said, making Viktor snort.
“You haven't even read the book.”
“I guarantee you that I won't be the only one there just to feast my eyes on the Golden Boy.”
Viktor frowned at her choice of words. He waited until Sky was safely back on the ground before replying. “Golden Boy? People really call him that?”
“Oh yes. He's very popular with the ladies.”
“No wonder he became a millionaire so fast.” Lest added, organizing the bookmark selection they kept on the counter.
“I'd argue it's because of his writing, no?” Viktor asked, right as his tablet buzzed with a new email.
“This coming from the man who said that his books are, and I quote, formulaic garbage?”
Viktor bit his lip, cheeks heating, and was about to reply when he caught sight of the email he'd just received.
“She said YES!” He exclaimed, making Lest drop the bookmarks she was holding.
“Talis’ agent?” Sky asked, coming up behind Viktor to read the email over his shoulder.
“Oh. But she's saying he can only do tomorrow? That's so soon.” Viktor read, feeling himself deflate with every word.
“Did she say why?”
“His tour starts three days from now, which I knew. But she's saying he can't extend it even for a day, so he can only do a stop before he flies to Noxus the day after tomorrow.” Viktor sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair.
“So what's the issue?” Lest asked, making him look up. “You're telling me you don't want him to kick off his tour here?”
Viktor blinked. “Well, yes, of course I want that. But that gives us, what? Barely a day to organize and advertise the event?”
Lest rolled her eyes at him. “Viktor, honey, it's not like you'll have to send out carrier pigeons to people to notify them. Post about it on Instagram like a last-minute surprise event. There's no way we won't have a full house.”
“The book club folks will surely come. The session is the day after tomorrow anyway, so I'm assuming most of them have read it.” Sky added. Viktor found himself nodding, their optimism lifting his spirits immediately.
“Okay, okay, that doesn't sound bad. And he's a big name, right? Turnout probably won't be a problem anyway.” Viktor said, already drafting a reply to Mel Medarda.
“We'll take care of setting up, so that just leaves you, pretty boy. Can you write up your questions until tomorrow evening?”
Viktor gave Lest an affronted look, although the grin overtaking his face gave him away. “Of course. I already wrote some down just in case.”
“Well then!” Lest clapped her hands. “Send out your reply, and let's start planning.”
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Viktor wasn't sure what to do about the Talis display table.
Typically, he'd dedicate the display to the newest release but still include some of the author's earlier work. It was a no-brainer to do it for Talis as well, as his books were extremely popular.
The issue was...Viktor did not think those books deserved to be next to Winter Night.
Sifting through one of the man's older novels, Viktor debated just putting them back onto the thriller shelf. Their connection to Winter Night was nearly non-existent, anyway. The table looked lovely already, the stacked blue covers catching the last rays of light just right.
Viktor turned the book in his hands and studied the back.
The blurb was flashy and short, and the rest of the space was taken up by publication reviews and the author's photo.
Viktor had to give it to Sky—Jayce Talis was devilishly handsome.
Broad shoulders, dark hair, hazel eyes. A smile so big and cocky Viktor had to roll his eyes at the sight of it. A clean-shaven face, perfectly groomed eyebrows, lashes that looked way too long. And a frankly adorable tooth gap, perhaps the only imperfection Viktor could spot on the photo.
Yeah, the Golden Boy moniker made a lot of sense. Viktor had to admit—albeit begrudgingly—that Jayce would have been exactly his type at university. Of course, he didn't fool himself thinking that he would've been Jayce's.
Turning the book back around, Viktor decided to place it on the display table anyway, along with Talis’ very first novel. Let the audience see the juxtaposition. How far a writer can come if they only let go of convention and let themselves be led by feeling.
“Excuse me?”
Viktor turned quickly, hand flying to his chest to calm his hammering heart.
The customer had sneaked in without Viktor hearing, which did not happen often. He'd been way too absorbed in the ohoto to hear the bell on their doorway ring.
For a moment, Viktor forgot how to breathe. Or speak.
Standing in front of him, in all his tall, bearded glory, was quite possibly the hottest man Viktor had ever seen.
He towered over Viktor even from a few steps back, his shoulders wide, his chest stretching the material of his black-and-red flannel precariously. His hair was dark and long, framing his face and covering his ears and forehead in loose, messy waves. The beard...the beard was definitely doing it for Viktor, so he had to look away from it immediately.
His eyes fell to the man's legs next, which is when he noticed the brace fastened to his leg over his dark jeans.
In more ways than one, it resembled Viktor's own. Sturdy, metallic, heavy. It wrapped around the man's left leg from the thigh down in an unyielding grip and likely helped him carry his considerable weight more easily.
Viktor glanced away quickly, because he knew very well what it was like to be stared at because of a mobility aid. The last thing he wanted was to make someone else feel as exposed and pitiful as he'd felt under other people's scrutiny all his life.
Instead, he tried for a smile and met the man's eyes.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
The man remained silent for a few seconds, his mouth slightly parted and his eyes trained on Viktor. To his credit, it seemed like he was simply staring at Viktor's face instead of his leg and cane.
Somehow, that unnerved Viktor even more.
“I—uh, I'm here about the—” the man gestured toward the display table vaguely, and Viktor nodded.
“Oh, you want Winter Night? Great choice!” He said, his smile growing. “We're actually having the author here for a Q&A about the book tomorrow evening.” Viktor couldn't help adding. It was simply too hard to believe, still.
The man blinked, and Viktor focused on his eyes. Rich and warm like the waning sunset, they held a flicker of amusement as they looked at him.
“I see. I take it you liked the book?” Viktor tried not to stare, but it was hard not to notice the way the man was biting his lip, his mouth curved just slightly.
“I—eh, yes. I enjoyed it immensely. It wasn't at all what I'd expected from this author.”
A flash of interest. A bushy eyebrow split by a thin scar lifted up in curiosity. Viktor couldn't look away from the man's face, and it was becoming a problem.
He couldn't remember the last time he had such a strong physical reaction to another human being.
Not since his ex-husband, that was for sure.
“How so?”
It took Viktor a few embarrassing seconds to catch up with the conversation. “Uh, well, his earlier work wasn't really...my cup of tea.”
That was an understatement, but he was there to sell books, not bare his soul.
“Why?”
The man took a slight step forward, and Viktor had to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth. He gripped his cane and took a deep breath before replying, praying he did not look as unhinged as he felt.
“I'm just...Not big on thrillers.” The lie sounded hollow to his own ears, and the stranger did not look convinced.
“Hm. Really? Is that all?”
Viktor looked up, let himself get lost in two hazel orbs once more. Well, what the hell. He didn't build his career on lying and sugarcoating things, after all.
“No, actually.” He admitted. “I simply don't think Talis’ earlier books showcased his talent.”
The man smiled. It flashed across his face lightning fast, and Viktor barely caught it. His eyes still danced with it, though.
“Really.”
It didn’t sound like a question, but Viktor answered it anyway. “Yes. I always thought he could do better.”
“And this new book, it does? Showcase his talent?”
“Without a doubt. I always knew the author had it in him. I don't know why he wasted so much time on something so—” Viktor stopped himself, feeling his cheeks heat just slightly.
What the hell was he doing?
“So...what?”
It was a challenge. Viktor saw the fire in the man's eyes, hot and bright. Something about their conversation was amusing him immensely, and Viktor was starting to fear the man was toying with him. For what reason, though, he could not tell.
“It does not matter. Winter Night is right here, you can choose between the paperback and hardcover editions.”
“Come on, now. Don't leave me hanging.” The man said, taking another step forward.
They were almost too close now. Viktor could see his tanned skin clearly. The laugh lines near his mouth. His ridiculously long lashes.
“Like I said, this book is simply more my style.” Viktor replied, forcing himself to look away and focus on the display once again.
“I see.”
The man said nothing more, which Viktor found infuriating. He never knew what to do in an awkward silence. It was the unfortunate side effect of spending fifteen years next to a man who did not think Viktor had anything worthwhile to say.
Viktor broke first, after thirty seconds of nervously spinning each of the rings on his fingers and adjusting them. “I just, uh, it's clear that something changed for the author. This switch doesn't just come out of thin air, and it really threw me.”
The man hummed. When Viktor looked back at him, his face had softened just a bit.
“What do you think changed?”
Viktor thought about it for a few seconds. “I honestly don't know. I'm really curious, though.”
The man smiled, and it revealed a gap in his front teeth. For a fleeting moment, Viktor wondered if he had ever seen him before.
“Well, you're in luck.” The man chuckled. The sound was rich and raspy, and it made Viktor’s breath catch. Viktor met his eyes, confused at the sudden turn in the conversation. “You can ask me all about it in our Q&A tomorrow.”
Seconds passed as the words entered Viktor's brain and slowly registered one by one. He understood them on their own, but together, they sounded like something he couldn't parse through, no matter how hard he tried.
He looked at the man, feeling panic grip his insides like a vice.
Hazel eyes. Dark hair. Tanned skin that was no longer unblemished and unshaven. Shoulders that were just as broad, but maybe a tad leaner.
Viktor felt slightly sick.
“My agent let me know she'd added a last-minute talk to my tour schedule, for tomorrow. I decided to stop by and check things out.”
The words were out, and Viktor understood them well. He just hoped that, if he pretended he didn't, he'd put off the inevitable.
Maybe, if he just stayed still and silent long enough, he'd get to avoid facing the reality in which he’d just insulted the author he was to host and implied that his earlier work was mediocre. To his face. A face he had not recognized, although that mattered very little.
Such luck was not in the cards for Viktor, though.
Dazed and red-cheeked, Viktor watched as a big, hairy hand rose and extended itself toward him. He looked up just as the man spoke again.
“Jayce Talis. It's a pleasure to meet you.”