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your pov
Vi sat beside me, her legs dangling over the edge of the rooftop like a dare she couldn't resist. The restless energy in her body had always fascinated me—like she was one wrong word away from exploding into action, no matter how tired she looked. Tonight, though, that fire seemed muted. The way she hunched forward, elbows on her knees, her head slightly bowed, was unfamiliar. Vulnerable. Her voice, soft and unsteady, barely carried over the faint hum of the city's dying night.
"I just...I can't believe he's alive," she muttered again, as if saying it out loud would make the truth sit more comfortably. But it didn't.
I could feel her words hang in the smog-filled air. I glanced sideways at her. Her sharp features—hardened from years of fighting and loss—softened, her gaze lost somewhere far beneath the city's blinking lights.
"He's alive all right," I murmured, lying back against the uneven concrete of the rooftop. I stared at the dark sky, pinpricks of stars fighting a losing battle against the toxic haze. "Just...not like he physically used to be."
Vander. A ghost resurrected, though not the same man as he used to be on the outside, he's the same old man on the inside.
The pollution had grown worse lately, a thick, sickly film of despair choking our people. It felt as if the city was mourning right along with us. The air was heavy, laced with chemicals and regret, and it clung to my skin as I lay there. I let out a slow, drawn-out sigh, trying to dissolve some of the tension I'd carried all day.
"Zaun doesn't make anything easy, does it?" I said, more to myself than to Vi.
"No," Vi said, her voice distant. She tugged her gloves tighter, a nervous habit she probably didn't realize she had. "It never does. And now this. Him. Back and different." She shook her head and sat back, leaning on her hands, but her posture still radiated unease.
Vi leaned forward, her gloved hands gripping the edge of the rooftop as if she needed something to hold onto. Her sigh cut through the heavy air like a blade, carrying with it all the weight of unspoken words she hadn't been able to say before.
"I don't know what's gotten into me," she began, her voice low, almost raw. "I never wanted to hurt you. That was never the plan, you know?" She turned her head slightly, looking at me out of the corner of her eye, hesitant and searching. "I just wanted to love you, to be there for you like I'm supposed to be. But everything got so fucking difficult. With Jinx... with Piltover breathing down our necks... with me."
Her voice cracked, just a little, on that last word.
"I took it out on you," she admitted, the words coming out in a rush like she couldn't bear to keep them in any longer. "And that was wrong. So wrong. You've always had my back, no matter how bad things got, but I—I should've stayed on your side."
