"You look like shit."

Lyra gave Jayce an irritated look, the throbbing in her temples and the nausea recoiling at the movement.

She grimaced painfully, forcing herself to drag her feet forward with whopping difficulty. "It's my winning look."

The Sun shone brightly over Piltover and seeped through the tall academy windows, washing the marbled interior with light.

Dust particles floated about lazily as the duo made their way down one of the hallways.

Around them, a steady bustling of students perpetuated the air, all smiles and happiness provoked by the unusually lovely weather. 

Of course, neither the sounds nor the excessive light helped Lyra's raging hangover.

"Maybe sit this one out?" Jayce offered, veiled worry etched into his eyes. "It's a basic theory lecture, you won't be missing much."

"No." She sighed, passing a hand over her face. "I'll be fine."

Honestly, she did not know why she had decided to attend her class that particular morning.

Any other time, she would ditch if she felt like it, with little to no remorse. And today, she had all the reason for it, too.

Because Jayce was right, she looked like absolute shit and felt it ten times fold.

Somewhere in the depths of her mind, an annoying voice attempted to suggest she was doing this out of a need to prove Viktor's accusations of her wasting Academy resources wrong. But she shut the thought down immediately, and it did not dare arise again.

Waking up had been no walk in the park. Especially considering she ended up passing out in a heap of her papers on the floor instead of attempting to drag herself back to her bed. Her morning mood was not helped when she found the ink of one of her calculations imprinted on her cheek.

She had to spend twenty minutes alone trying to copy it back down while contorting in front of the mirror.

Truly not one of her proudest moments.

The throbbing pain in her head and the utter nausea she was currently experiencing did not help lighten her attitude.

"I just...have to make sure I don't throw up." Lyra muttered tiredly, stomach-churning uncomfortably at the sole thought.

Jayce gave her a prolonged look which she pretended to ignore.

"Hm."

She noted the purposeful disbelief in his tone. But again, she ignored it.

"Fine." He said after a moment, "But I'm coming with you."

She scoffed. "Why? You feeling guilty? You should be. Another one of your brilliant ideas giving me more pain than gain."

"You didn't seem that bad when you left! And I did offer to walk you back." He pointed a finger at her, eyebrows raised.

Lyra rolled her eyes. "And they say chivalry is dead." She sighed, pressing them shut briefly. "I did think that you'd be over at that girl's house today instead of delighting me with your ostentatious presence."

"Who? Sonny?"

She shrugged, not knowing the redhead's name and truthfully not really caring enough to find out.

Lyra had seen her around Academy halls and distantly remembered Jayce once bothering her with a needlessly prolonged conversation about one of their several one-night stands.

But she was trying to read at the time, so the conversation was entirely one-sided.

And anyway, a whole library could be filled with all the girls Jayce had chased after over the years. If she were to attempt memorising all their names, her brain would short-circuit.

"Nah, I wasn't in the mood for that yesterday. She's nice, but my head wasn't in the game." Jayce told her nonchalantly.

Lyra nodded, feigning interest. "Delightful. Can I go to class now?"

A beaming, shit-eating grin spread over his features, eyes burning with coy innocence. She frowned so low at the sight that double the amount of pain shot through her temples, making her hiss.

"I told you, I'm coming with you!"

"Why?" She groaned, feeling utterly miserable.

Jayce shrugged, oblivious, trotting beside her hunched-over form contentedly. He could have been just as well skipping for the expression of elation on his face. "It's entertaining to see you like this. Also, I have a mental bet going on that you'll spew all over the lower rows. And I have to be there for that."

By then, they had reached her class, and she stopped in front of him with a deadpanned expression. "I'm glad my pain amuses you."

Pouting, Jayce laid a hand over his chest. "More than you'll ever know."

With a roll of her eyes, Lyra wheeled on her heels and proceeded to meander into the large lecture hall.

A few students had already filled the first few rows and were now chatting amicably amongst each other, a pleasant atmosphere hanging over the room.

Morale was high, disgustingly so, and she blamed the damn weather for it.

While everyone was joyful, Lyra was contemplating which surface would be better to smash her head on. Maybe then pain within her skull would subside.

She should've taken the damn painkillers.

Somewhere behind her, she heard a shuffle and saw Jayce picking up a nearby bin that he stuffed under his arm like a loaf of bread.

"Just in case." He said, motioning to her overall state.

Lyra groaned, shaking her head, spinning to march towards her designated seat four rows above. "I think I'd feel better if you left."

"Not a chance!" He sang as she fell into one of the middle seats, with a set glare squaring her eyes. "I am staying riiiight here." He told her, plopping into the seat beside her.

"Charming." Lyra grumbled.

Around them, the steady bustling of chattering students had suddenly increased in hushes.

Glancing about curiously, she spotted a group of girls a few rows below giving Jayce tentative glances, then giggling amongst themselves.

She sighed inwardly at the sight.

It never failed to surprise her just how much her friend was popular with the fairer sex. Any gender, for that matter.

She had never seen him in any way other than an annoying thorn of a friend but was very much aware that some of the dislikes she got from the female students were because of him constantly orbiting her.

Her sunny personality also played a major factor in it, she was sure, but there was nothing to be done about that.

All in all, she was glad to have Jayce.

He was her only friend in the Academy, and regardless of her signature snarky behaviour around him, she cared for him deeply.

Though he knew little about her, he never pushed and seemed to tag along with her simply because he enjoyed her company.

Which was a feat in itself, as few people could tolerate her even five minutes at a time, both students and professors alike.

Lounging in the seat next to her, Jayce seemed oblivious to the reaction his presence had sparked amongst the students. Instead, he whirled around to face Lyra, eyes focused solely on her, grin bright as ever. "This is why you should go out with us more! Build up a tolerance!"

She levelled him with a pointed look as she shuffled her column of books into the corner of her table and out of the way. "You had five drinks, I had five bottles. I think my tolerance is doing just fine, thank you very much."

He pursed his lips disbelievingly, but she did not see it, laying her head flat on the desk with a whine. "I'll just...sit here and be quiet and wait for this nightmare to end."

"And I'll be right here, with you." He nodded with a sly smile.

Lyra stared at him with unimpressed eyes. "Spectacular. This day couldn't get any worse."

"Good morning, class."

She had spoken too soon.

Her head whipped up so fast she ought to have pulled a ligament.

It was just her absolute luck, and she knew it.

Surely enough, Viktor had just sauntered into her lecture hall, eyes skimming lazily over an open book in his hand. Several others were tucked neatly under his arm, and he deposited them on the teaching table with ease. "Professor Sailas is away on Council business this semester, so I will be taking over this class."

She could cry.

"Janna on a stick, you have got to be fucking shitting me." Lyra groaned, stuffing her face into her hands as the damnable accented voice echoed in the room.

Jayce frowned in confusion at her reaction before he glanced a few rows down, and his mouth dropped in understanding. "Oh, shit... is that—?"

"Yup." Lyra tiredly rubbed at her temples.

Meanwhile, Viktor did not seem to have spotted the duo just yet.

Dressed sharply as ever, he was busy scribbling his name in elegant letters on the chalkboard, his back turned to the class.

When he whirled around, Lyra could not help but smirk, poison-sweet satisfaction filling her chest. A faint red mark sat comfortably on his left cheek, faded but definitely noticeable. A great reminder of her standing her ground the day before.

"Oof, seems like you're not the only one who has him in their bad books." Jayce commented from beside her, seemingly reading her mind.

Lyra grinned a little brighter. "Seems so."

A bin appeared in her peripheral vision, and she turned to look at Jayce in question.

He shrugged, eyes still fixed on the brunette man below. "I don't know what the guy's done, but you can chuck it at him, I won't stop ya."

Lyra slowly shook her head, but a sly smirk etched its way on her features as her eyes bowled over to focus on Viktor's back again.

"No need for that." She spoke, smiling knowingly, hangover and headache long forgotten. Her voice low and coy to such an extent that even Jayce turned to give her a double take. "I'll do this my own way."

A few rows below, Viktor had turned, the piece of chalk sat comfortably between two spindly fingers. His tired eyes swept over the students in his immediate proximity, not venturing further up.

He did not seem particularly ecstatic at what he saw, and pressed his lips together momentarily in resignation. His jaw also tightened of a small fraction, and Lyra spotted the way his fingers rolled briefly along the handle of the cane in alternating pressures.

She remembered it as a fiddling habit.

An anxious one.

And for the shortest of seconds, somewhere in the more annoying factions of her mind, Lyra wondered if such a reaction was caused by his unease with public speaking.

He never did like crowds...

She swatted the thought away immediately, along with the dangerous spark of sympathy that made a fleeting appearance.

This was no time for empathy. Not after all the horrible things he'd told her the night before. Not after she spent all those hours crying on the floor of her room, in the dark, until she inevitably passed out from exhaustion.

No.

This was the time for some good old-fashioned revenge.

And revenge, was what she'd execute.

"We will begin with some basic revision. Pay attention because the questions may very well be on your ultimate exam at the end of the semester." He announced, sending a few pointed looks before his steps halted in the middle of the room. "Let's start with something easy. Who can tell me how to calculate the capacity of a mechanical press?"

Lyra's hand shot up in the air almost immediately.

It was done with such strength and speed that even Jayce jumped, failing not to wobble lightly in his seat.

Of course, the brusque movement caught Viktor's attention.

When his gaze fell on her, he stilled.

Eyes widening.

Blinking once.

Twice.

Before, all at once, his stance went frigid.

"Yes?" He muttered quietly, and she basked in the way his accent suddenly held a sharper cadence. It was a barely audible change and, to his credit, a well concealed one.

But Lyra knew him a little better than that. He was not above fights, he never had been. He was just better at hiding his irritation, at the best of times.

Still, she knew him.

So she immediately registered the way the sibilant sound slithered out a little more distinctly with his question.

This was going to be fun.

Lyra smiled at him sweetly, intentionally batting her lashes. And she could physically feel the way Jayce's eyes popped out of their sockets when she straightened her posture and pointedly, purposefully, puffed out her chest.

Viktor's eyes narrowed marginally, clocking the motion instantly, but he stayed still. Unmoving, though a little tenser.

"Calculate tonnage, then the energy consumed." She spoke, her tone honeyed, voice echoing in the room like an enchanted melody. An uncharacteristic innocence brimming her attitude.

Viktor's jaw squared.

"That is correct." He dragged. She noticed the way his shoulders tautened a tad more.

At which she could only offer him a brighter, hooded-eyed smile.

Viktor switched his attention off her then, without missing a beat, and turned it to the other students. "Now. Could someone define pulverisation?"

Lyra's hand was up again.

"Someone else?" He called a little louder, expertly hiding his annoyance.

To her utter delight, no one seemed too willing to reply, students intentionally hiding their gazes to avoid being called on.

He shut his eyes and sighed.

"Yes, Miss Velaryon?"

She beamed, shifting carefully. "Pressing or crushing something until it becomes powder or soft mass."

The stare he fixed her with may have seemed innocuous. That is, if Lyra did not know what one of his glares looked liked.

It was so delicious she could have laughed.

"Yes, that is also right." The physical strain it took him to say that was palpable, and her smile brightened all the more for it.

"Next question. Which one is more efficient, a four-stroke engine or a two-stroke?"

"Four-stroke." She did not bother raising her hand this time.

His eyes slitted, gaze focused solely on her. "Why?"

"Less demand for fuel, ergo less pollution." Lyra spoke casually, relaxed and with absolute ease.

The students exchanging mildly confused glances, Jayce's perplexed expression, and the whole world around them altogether seemed to fall away.

All she focused on was the small, but visible challenge that sparked in the deepness of his eyes. How his grip tightened on his cane, and the skin astride his brow crumpled minimally with his frown.

Lyra smirked.

The game was on.

"What is the function of an isolator?"

"Isolating the faulty section of the substation, separating faulty sections for repair from the healthy ones in order to avoid the occurrence of severe faults."

"A cantilever beam is loaded at a point on its ends; what will be the effect in shear force?"

"Maximum stress will be at the fixed end, σ=My/I, which will cause failure."

"What is the working principle of an air compressor?"

"Forcing atmospheric air under pressure to create potential energy that can be stored for later use."

"The pattern material used in the Investment casting Process is?"

"A ceramic, plaster, or plastic shell formed around a wax pattern. Melted, removed in a furnace, metal poured into the shell to create the casting."

"How does the flow rate in a pipe depend on its diamet—"

"—If the pipe diameter decreases, the fluid must flow faster to maintain the same flow rate, which leads to a decrease in pressure due to Bernoulli's principle." Her eyes steeled, lips parted into a smile, and she all but purred out her next words. "And vice versa."

His chest rose and fell with a little more emphasis now, and she couldn't look away if she wanted to.

The way his shoulders were unmistakably squared, straight and sharp.

Viktor was never one to start a public scene, and she knew that. He never had been. His expression was mildly narrowed, but not in any manner that screamed animosity to an unknowing bystander.

It was the small details, though. Those tiny specifics, that only one who knew precisely where to glance, could have spotted.

Lyra knew exactly where to look.

At the skin of his knuckles, that were shade of a corpse-white from the force with which he gripped the handle of his cane.

And those eyes, — gods and all strike her now, those eyes — the most satisfying sight she had ever been graced with. Two thin lines, orange pulsating with a hate only she could read, shimmering in the light of the rays sneaking through the windows.

It did not escape her how he seemed to be chewing the inside of his lip, and a shiver of anticipation ran down her spine when his head tilted slightly sideways.

"Very well." He dragged, and her breath caught at the way his voice came out an fraction lower.

Appropriately disguised or not, he was pissed. And she devoured the sight of it, hungrily. Unable to hide her scathing smile and blazing excitement, basking in the way he was clearly struggling to hide his hostility.

Screw his well calculated exterior, his refusal to loose his cool in front of people — in front of Piltovians. His resolve was chipping ever so slightly at the edges, all because of her, and Lyra was unashamed to say something clicked within her then, as he stared into her with a little more of a burn and freedom to his gaze.

"Why stop there?" He said, and she grinned a little further. "What is—"

"Hey, quit it! She's already answered all your stupid questions!"

Viktor's eyes shot to Jayce with surprise, breaking the glare him and Lyra were locked in.

Lyra blinked, snapping out of her trance just as quickly, before she realised what happened and her head snapped to Jayce beside her.

She was surprised to see his brows furrowed, an uncharacteristic scowl sitting on his face, pointed at the man below.

Oh, no.

Quicker than she thought herself capable of, her gaze pivoted to Viktor and her heart fell.

A newfound intrigue glimmered in his eyes as he watched Jayce. Concealed, but definitely there.

Her smile faltered.

Shit.

"And you are?" Viktor motioned, his voice once more collected and soft. But his gaze was levelling Jayce with undivided interest.

Jayce raised a challenging brow, "Jayce Talis."

And suddenly, Viktor pursed his lips.

Nodded, slow and thoughtful.

Then rotated on himself, facing his back to the room.

Lyra's eyes tightened, not missing the way his shoulders had visibly relaxed. That anger she was desperately trying to gouge out of him, seemingly falling away completely.

She gripped her seat tighter, and ventured to dismiss the light disappointment that constricted her chest.

This isn't good—

"Mr Talis, I understand you are a final year student?"

Jayce blinked, surprised to be addressed, but his frown never left his face. "Yes? What's your point?"

"He's here with me, it's allowed." Lyra growled, eyes hidden under dangerously furrowed brows.

Viktor merely gave her a glance over his shoulder, but made sure she caught just how unbothered he was. "I am very much aware of the rules, Miss Velaryon."

She heard Jayce scoff beside her and had to resist the urge to clamp his mouth shut with her own two hands before he did more damage. But she was too late.

"Why doesn't that surprise me." Jayce muttered lowly.

Well, mark them all down as screwed.

This was going to get bloody, and she knew it.

Because there was no way Viktor would not retaliate.

And there was no way she would not repay him in kind, twenty fold.

She squared her shoulders in preparation, eyes flickering briefly to the bin still sitting beside Jayce.

A possible weapon to be tossed just in case.

Good, she'd aim at his stupid head.

Sure enough, with the elegance of a skilled pirouette, Viktor spun around, posture straighter, one arm held impeccably behind his back. Then he looked up, but not at her, specifically not at her, only at Jayce.

Coward, she growled in her mind but stayed put and silent.

"Mr Tallis!" He addressed, and Lyra's teeth pressed together into a warning scowl, which she was sure he noticed, but made a show to ignore. "As much as you may be moved by gaieties of passion, shouldn't you be minding your own studies instead of pursuing younger students?"

Everyone in the auditorium froze.

The air stilled.

The student sat closest to her seemed to stop breathing.

Lyra's eyes fell agape, expression dumbfounded.

Did he just... did he just imply...?

Next to her, Jayce blinked, stricken-cold, shocked.

Everything stopped. 

No one dared move.

Only Viktor stood relaxed, unperturbed, the picture painted figure of formality. Just a professor, making a fitting, if a little chastising, observation. The sight made her chest boil.

Before she could react, Jayce's hand curled up into a fist in her peripheral vision.

"What did you just say?" The boy growled, and the students in the lecture hall automatically retracted into themselves.

Viktor shrugged without a bother, and Lyra almost thought she spotted a small smile dancing at the corner of his lips. "I can see how..." He gave Jayce a once-over, looking mildly but plainly unimpressed. "...impulses may drive you to foolish feats. But perhaps wait until the end of class to chase one of your women about?"

That had done it.

The student's faces fell, eyes shooting to the duo in utter puzzlement.

The sight of them made their blood run cold.

Jayce's glare burned.

Lyra's head had dipped, silver bangs hiding her face.

When some caught a glimpse of her eyes, they saw them as wide, staring unseeingly downward in a blind rage.

Jayce's chest heaved as he pointed a finger at Viktor. "You—"

Lyra's palms slamming against the desk with a loud bang made everyone jump.

She shot to her feet, and the students watched in horror as she suddenly roared with laughter.

She laughed.

Humourless and empty.

"Oh, but Jayce, why bother waiting!" She announced loudly, and some of the students could have sworn their substitute professor's eyes widened at the sound.

She grabbed Jayce's sleeve and levelled Viktor with her elated gaze, white curls slipping out of her bun as she grinned with passionate, venomous snide.

And she shouted at Jayce blaringly, a sound that ricocheted off the lecture hall walls with bombarding clarity.

"Let's go fuck right now!"

The student's eyes blew out of their sockets, jaws slacking almost all the way to the floor.

They could only stare as the girl bolted out of her seat, dragging the older boy after her by the sleeve, darted down the stairs and marched for the door.

Not before barking an angry, "Excuse us, Sir." to Viktor on her way out, after which the door slammed thunderously shut.

Everything stood still in the lecture hall.

No one dared shift, breathe, or voice their confusion.

And when the students at last dared a hidden glance at their professor, they found him staring unseeingly at the door.

He still looked calm and unbothered.

But some could have sworn there was a concealed rage bubbling behind the surface-level of his look.

One that could have slaughtered civilisations. 

||

"What the fuck was that bastard's problem?" Jayce bellowed as they stopped their angry stomping a few hallways down.

Well, Lyra was stomping.

Jayce had chased after her in a heap of sweat, still angry but way too scared for and of Lyra than bothered by his own emotions.

To be honest, he was struggling to process what exactly had happened.

What the hell had just happened?

He watched Lyra pace back and forth, an incredulous, maddening smile stitching into her lips. "Incredible." She breathed in disbelief, a laugh shaking her chest, hands weaving wildly into her hair.

Jayce glared over his shoulder with a grimace. "What a fucking prick."

She laughed louder, not stopping her pacing. "You're telling me!"

That was when Jayce levelled her with a hard look, eyes pinning her to the floor. "Lyra, what did you do?"

"Nothing, I swear!" She exclaimed in sincerity, and for once, he actually believed her. "That's the thing!"

"But you know him?" Jayce asked, now even more confused.

"Briefly." She waved a hand vaguely in his direction, resuming her pacing, then laughed some more. "Unbelievable. Unseemly! All that shit coming out of his mouth, the absolute cheek! That absolute condescending, pretentious, miserable son of a bitch!"

Jayce watched her pace about quizzically.

He noted, surprised, that her hangover seemed to have simmered.

However, she was far from looking better. In fact, she looked imperatively worse.

She paced about erratically, her hair spiking haphazardly around her head. Though he was managing to expertly keep himself quiet, knowing better than to question her when she was in this state, he was shocked to see his long-time friend like this.

Lyra was hot-headed, more prone to sarcasm than a dog to barking.

Yet he had never seen her pull anything alike to what she had today, which perhaps astounded him most.

How did this specific, insignificant prick get so deeply under her skin?

He'd seen her fend off armies of much more arrogant dickheads with a mere three-word comment and a look.

So how come she was frankly losing her shit and the few marbles she had left over some rude asshole?

Then, as if with a slap, Jayce's face fell, eyes slacking wide.

"Oh my god..." he muttered. And suddenly, his face melted into an all-knowing smile, looking like a cat who was given milk. "Was that a lover's tiff?"

She pivoted his way and hollered at him faster than he had time to blink.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

Jayce shrugged casually, crossing his arms over his chest with a small smile and leaning sideways on a nearby wall, his anger long forgotten. "From where I was sitting, the guy was jealous to see you in the company of a handsome young stud. Why else would he make all those jabs at my reputation?"

Lyra scoffed a little too loudly for his liking.

"He isn't jealous, he's a jackass, who apparently has made it his mission to make my life a misery for the rest of the semester!" Lyra threw her hands in the air dramatically.

Jayce just smiled wider. "Ah, young love. You would be the one to sleep with a professor."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a reply." She hissed, rounding on her heels. "I'm going to bed."

Jayce's smile faltered.

"Ly..."

She whipped around in a seething rage. "What."

He was looking at her sheepishly now, lips pursed in commiseration. "Did you forget?"

She blinked.

"Forget what?"

The answer came to her before he had the time to reply, and she doubled over, groaning loudly.

The lunch at the Kiramman estate.

"Rhaast give me strength, that's today."

Jace watched her sympathetically, arms dropping to his sides. "Yeah..." he offered weakly. "Listen, I can tell them you're unwell—"

"No, no." She straightened, forcing a noisy breath through her nostrils. Passing a hand over her hair in an attempt to smoothen its disarray, she sighed, eyes rolling open and looking more tired now than ever before. "I promised Caitlyn. I have her birthday present all packed and sorted, and I want to give it to her before the party next weekend."

Jayce watched her dubiously, brows contorted in concern. "You sure you're up for it?" He asked tentatively.

Wheeling on herself, Lyra sighed. "I will be after an ice-cold shower and four cups of coffee."

||

I apologise to anyone who actually does know anything about engineering. I do not. I am a hopeless English student, but I did try my best to research as much as I could!

I hope you liked this, please leave some comments if you feel like it! :)