Chapter Text
Caitlyn woke before her alarm.
She always did.
The house was quiet in that particular Kiramman way, polished silence, expensive and deliberate. The kind where even the walls seemed to listen. Pale morning light filtered through the tall windows, catching on the edges of framed degrees and tasteful art she’d grown up pretending not to notice. Everything in the house had a place, and everything in its place carried weight: legacy, expectation, reputation.
She sat up, smoothed the duvet, and swung her feet onto the floor.
Her outfit was already laid out on the chair by her desk. Cream blouse, pressed the night before. Navy skirt, hem measured and approved by the mirror. Cardigan folded neatly on top. Sensible shoes polished to a dull shine. Glasses cleaned and placed beside her watch, lenses spotless.
Everything in its place.
Caitlyn dressed carefully, methodically, as if each step mattered. As if a wrinkle or a misaligned button could somehow ripple outward and undo her. School was not just school, it was proof. Of discipline. Of control. Of deserving what she’d been given.
Failure was not an option. Not here. Not ever. In the Kiramman household, success was assumed, quietly demanded rather than spoken aloud. Caitlyn had been raised to understand that privilege came with obligation: perfect grades, impeccable behavior, a future that reflected well on generations before her. There was no room for messiness, no tolerance for excuses. School was not simply something she attended; it was the path laid out for her, narrow and unforgiving, and she walked it because she had been taught- by example, by silence, by expectation- that deviating was not a choice.
Downstairs, the kitchen smelled faintly of coffee and toast.
Her mother sat at the long table, tablet propped beside her plate, already dressed in a tailored suit. Dark hair immaculate. Expression unreadable in the practiced way of someone who had learned not to wear expectations openly.
“Good morning,” Caitlyn said softly.
Her mother glanced up, eyes flicking briefly to the clock before returning to her screen. “You’re right on time.”
“Yes.”
A pause followed, measured, deliberate. Caitlyn poured herself tea, careful not to clink the cup too loudly, and sat opposite her mother. She folded her hands neatly in her lap, posture straight.
“You get your next science assignment today,” her mother said. It wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“And the mock university entrance results should be posted this week.”
“Yes.”
Her mother finally looked at her, gaze sharp and evaluative. “You’re still ranked first in your year?”
Caitlyn swallowed. “As of the last report.”
“Good.”
That was it. Approval, clipped and conditional, offered like a reward for continued compliance.
They ate in silence after that. Caitlyn focused on the clink of cutlery, the steady rhythm of routine. She told herself it was fine. She preferred it this way. Expectations were easier to manage when they were spoken plainly, and easier still when they were never questioned.
She left the house on time, the family driver waiting by the curb.
,
Piltover Academy loomed like it always did- glass, steel, and old stone fused together in a way that tried very hard to look progressive while never quite letting go of tradition. The kind of school that prided itself on excellence and quietly sorted students into futures long before graduation.
Caitlyn walked through the front gates with her usual purposeful stride, bag tucked neatly over her shoulder. Students clustered in loose groups, laughter and noise rising and falling around her. She nodded politely when greeted, offered small smiles she never quite meant.
She took her seat in science class five minutes early.
Front row. Left side. Same desk she’d had all year.
Her notebook opened easily to a fresh page, pen already aligned along the margin. She reviewed last night’s notes, mind settling into familiar focus. This- this she understood. Rules. Systems. Cause and effect. If you followed the steps correctly, results followed.
The door banged open behind her.
Laughter followed.
Caitlyn stiffened before she even turned.
Vi’s presence was impossible to miss.
She took up space without trying, broad shoulders stretching her jacket, muscle evident even through the careless slouch. Short hair a little messier than school regulations allowed, like she’d never quite bothered to tame it for anyone. Boots kicked back against the legs of the desk as she dropped into her seat in the back row, claiming it without ceremony.
Caitlyn did not know her.
Not really.
They had been friends once- briefly, distantly, in the way children sometimes were. Caitlyn remembered very little from that time. Just fragments. A girl who had smiled easily. Who had shared her snacks without hesitation. Who had shoved a boy hard enough to knock him off balance when he’d teased Caitlyn for her glasses.
Sweet, Caitlyn thought. That was the word that lingered.
Whatever memories she had beyond that were blurred by time and distance. They hadn’t stayed friends. Life had simply moved on, pulling them into different corners of the world.
The Vi in front of her now felt like a stranger wearing a familiar name.
The girl Caitlyn remembered had been all easy smiles and unguarded laughter, warmth given freely and without thought. The girl in front of her still smiled, but now it was cocky, sharp at the edges, worn like armor. There was something darker clinging to her presence, something layered and unreadable, as if life had complicated her in ways Caitlyn could neither see nor understand.
She moved like she belonged on the rugby pitch- which she did. Captain, no less. Her name was shouted from bleachers, echoed through hallways, scribbled on lockers. She wore her popularity loosely, as if it bored her, as if it were something that happened to her rather than something she sought.
Girls gravitated toward her without hesitation, draping themselves over desks, brushing her arm, laughing too loudly at jokes Caitlyn barely heard. Vi accepted the attention with lazy ease, a grin here, a murmured comment there, never lingering long enough to mean anything.
Caitlyn knew the reputation. Everyone did. Vi slept around. Girls lined up for her attention, left classrooms with flushed cheeks and hopeful looks, and disappeared from her side just as quickly. There were no relationships, no public attachments, no hand-holding in hallways. Just interest, indulgence, and Vi moving on before anything could turn into something more.
Academically, Vi was exactly what Caitlyn feared being associated with. Barely passing. Assignments skipped. Detentions that stacked up and never seemed to matter. Teachers said her name with weary disappointment, and still, somehow, let her through.
As for her family, Caitlyn knew only pieces. Two boys, Mylo and Claggor, who attended the same school and got into trouble just as often, if they weren’t all getting into trouble together. They didn’t look alike. Not really. Caitlyn had sometimes wondered if they were even related, but she’d never asked. It wasn’t her business.
Vi had her feet up on the desk, hands laced behind her head.
Caitlyn looked back to her notes.
She had trained herself not to watch.
Vi had been in her classes for years now. Always in the back. Always bored. Always somehow passing without ever trying. Constant detentions that never seemed to stick.
Caitlyn had her theories. She’d seen the way some of the younger female teachers blushed when Vi smiled at them, laughed a little too loudly at her jokes. She suspected Vi knew exactly how to lean on that charm when she needed to. As for the male teachers, Caitlyn doubted charm worked the same way. Maybe it was favors. Maybe intimidation. Maybe things happened quietly, out of sight. She didn’t know, and she didn’t want to.
More likely, Vi benefited from goodwill. From popularity. From winning games the school liked to brag about. From being someone people didn’t want to challenge too closely. Rules bent more easily around people like that. They always had.
The teacher cleared his throat. “Now. For your next project.”
He turned to the board as he spoke. “This assignment will run until the winter break. You’ll be designing and conducting an original experiment, formulating a clear hypothesis, running multiple trials, collecting data, and analyzing your results within the approved parameters.”
A low murmur spread through the room.
“You’ll submit a written report,” he continued, tapping the board, “a documented experimental log, and an oral presentation before the break. Your grade will be based on experimental design, data accuracy, analysis, and collaboration- your ability to work together.”
Caitlyn straightened slightly, pen hovering.
“This project accounts for forty percent of your final grade,” the teacher added. “Fail it, and you fail the course.”
The room stilled.
“You will be working in pairs,” he went on. “The pairings are assigned randomly. Both students are required to participate actively. During the oral presentation, I will ask questions directed at each of you individually. If one of you cannot demonstrate understanding of the work, both of you will feel it.”
Caitlyn’s pen paused.
Randomized.
She told herself it would be fine.
Names were read out, one by one. She barely registered them until,
“Kiramman. Paired with… Lanes.”
The room reacted before she could stop herself.
“What?”
The word escaped her, sharp and loud.
Silence fell.
Every head turned.
Caitlyn felt blood rush to her face. “I- I’m sorry,” she said quickly, but the damage was done. “Sir, with all due respect, that pairing doesn’t make sense.”
The teacher frowned. “Excuse me?”
“Violet’s academic record,” Caitlyn stopped, mortified and furious all at once. “I mean- this project is crucial. I can’t risk-,”
Murmurs rippled through the room.
One of the girls near Vi scoffed. “Wow.”
Another muttered, “Rude.”
From the back, Vi laughed.
“What’s the problem, Kiramman?” Vi drawled. “Thought you got straight As no matter what. Doesn’t matter if I tag along, right?”
She leaned forward slightly, eyes finding Caitlyn’s for the first time that day- sharp, bright, a smile that knew it was being watched.
“Or are you afraid I might be a little too distracting for you to get any work done?” she went on. “Ruin that perfect record of yours?”
Heat flared under Caitlyn’s skin.
“If you would just listen for once,” she snapped, “you would’ve heard the professor say that we have to collaborate. We have to prove we both worked on the project.”
Vi tilted her head, a crooked smile pulling at her mouth. “Oh no,” she said. “What if we bring home a B to mommy? How tragic.”
Caitlyn’s chest tightened. “I care about my future,” she shot back. “Which you clearly don’t.”
A beat.
Then Vi grinned. “Ouch.”
The teacher cleared his throat, irritation sharp. “Enough. The pairings stand. Learning to collaborate with people different from yourselves will be just as beneficial to your future careers as the material itself.”
Caitlyn sank back into her seat, mortification settling heavy in her stomach.
She did not look back again.
,
The bell rang. Chairs scraped. Voices rose.
Caitlyn waited until the room had mostly cleared before standing.
Vi was still leaning against her desk, chatting easily. One of the girls lingered before she left, her hand brushing over Vi’s stomach a little too deliberately before pulling away. When their eyes met, Vi arched a brow.
Caitlyn walked over, notebook already open.
“We need to discuss logistics,” she said briskly. “Deadlines. Division of labor. Expectations.”
Vi blinked. “Hi to you too.”
“This isn’t a joke,” Caitlyn said. “I intend to get full marks.”
“Shocking.” Vi pushed off the desk, standing just a little too close. “Alright. Shoot.”
Caitlyn flipped a page. “We should meet twice a week, minimum. I’ll handle the research and written components, obviously. You can-,”
“Wow,” Vi interrupted. “Already delegating.”
“I’m being practical.”
“Uh-huh.”
Caitlyn clenched her jaw. “When are you available?”
Vi shrugged. “Practice most days after school. After that, maybe. Weekends… I’m busy.”
“Fine.”
Vi’s grin turned cheeky. “So… your place or mine?”
Caitlyn didn’t hesitate. “Mine, obviously. I don’t want to imagine what the household of someone with manners like yours looks like.”
The words landed hard.
Vi’s smile faded, just a fraction.
Something sharp flickered behind her eyes.
“Yeah,” Vi said lightly, after a beat. “Figures.”
Caitlyn hesitated, something uneasy stirring, but she pushed it aside.
“Tomorrow. After practice,” she said. “Be on time.”
Vi gave a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.”
Caitlyn turned and walked away before she could say anything else.
Her heart was racing.
Behind her, Vi watched her go, expression unreadable.