Archive of Our Own

--

Caitlyn isn't sure where she first heard the piece, but she knows that she needs it, something passionate and silly stirring inside of her at a young age. She forgets the name of it but describes it to her father, and he looks it up on YouTube to lull her to sleep at night. It’s something indigo and soothing, bold and charming. It reminds Caitlyn what it means to feel.

--

“You’ll love it here,” Jayce tells Caitlyn as they make their way through the hallway of the performing arts center. “The view of the stage we have is great, the architecture is gorgeous, and the lineup for the showcase tonight is spectacular -”

“We’re here because Viktor is in the showcase tonight, aren't we?” Caitlyn mutters, trying her best to match Jayce’s peppy stride. They’re both dressed formally for the event, which for Caitlyn, means that the clumsiness of her heels overrides the length of her legs in how fast she can walk.

She hates it- all of the stifling high society and prescribed etiquette she was born into. Caitlyn’s been trying to escape her family name, bigoted rich folk, and this god-awful dress for years, to no avail. 

“Well, yes. We’re here because I want to see Viktor play viola. But there are a ton of other local classical artists, too.” Jayce stops walking and Cait stops next to him, taking a moment to catch her breath. Jayce pulls out the showcase program pamphlet, opening it to the list of everyone performing tonight. His thumb holds the pamphlet affectionately close to Viktor, of course, but Caitlyn can see and recognize a few other names from the brief time she played classical piano growing up.

Caitlyn’s eyes dart to the name at the bottom of the page- Jinx- immediately allured by the brevity of her name and the difficult etude she dares to perform as the final piece of the night.

“Do you know the pianist listed?” Caitlyn asks Jayce, pointing to the bottom of the pamphlet. “This etude is quite difficult.” Jayce squints and holds the name closer to his eyes.

“Oh. Jinx? Hm…” He taps his chin. “Actually, Viktor might know her. I think they went to school together.”

Caitlyn blinks. “They're friends?”

“No, not friends. I think she's a lot younger than him, actually. I don't know if they’ve ever talked.”

Caitlyn nods, a few gears in her head turning. “Then I guess we’ll have to ask him after the performance?”

Jayce nods too. “Right. But we better get a move on, because we're gonna be late-”

“That's your fault for picking me up late.”

Jayce smiles nervously. “Well, let's not be later than we already are.”

“Fine.” 

Caitlyn grits her teeth. She pulls up the bottom of her long, stupid dress, and those damned heels click against the linoleum floor as they plunge further into darkness.

--

Viktor plays beautifully. He’s always been talented, both at the viola and in academics. Caitlyn’s seen Jayce fawn over him for hours unrelenting. Viktor plays with such attention to detail! he says. And with such vigor, the same way he produces science. Caitlyn wishes they would spare her time and just fuck already, but supposes that the time will come when they’re ready.

The rest of the performances are good, but lack much excitement, as many classical performances do. Cait doesn’t pay them much attention. What she’s really looking forward to is the last performance listed: Jinx.

Jinx - Winter Wind Etude (op. 25 no. 11). Frederick Chopin.

There’s not even a full name listed on the program, unlike every other performer. Is it an alias? A persona? Is one even allowed to have a persona in this genre? Cait stares at her name, brimming with curiosity and want between performances when she’s supposed to be clapping. She fiddles with her earrings and waits politely for a performer she feels might be unlike anything she’s ever seen.

And she is.

When Jinx comes on stage, her unkempt blue hair sticks out at the bangs, and the rest is braided into two long tails behind her back. Caitlyn is (still) used to women in her sphere wearing dresses, only dresses, and Jinx saunters to the piano in a dark suit exposing much of her thin, pale chest. She reminds Caitlyn of an eel when she walks. She grins eerily like one too when she bows to the audience.

Caitlyn’s heart stops as the audience applauds. Moonbeams pierce through her chest, beautiful and dark. Deadly.

Caitlyn assumes that this must be how Jayce felt watching Viktor. 

Jinx plays only with her right hand at first- a slow, devastatingly passionate, and lonely melody that pulls Caitlyn like a vortex. She draws Caitlyn to the edge of her seat. She feels dizzy and like the lights on stage might burn her alive, along with Jinx’s cocky smirk, and when Jinx barrels into the main body of the piece-

Caitlyn is swallowed by her.

She plays a cascade of rapid, tumultuous arpeggios with her right hand, while her left hand pounds out that bold and lonely melody. Again. Over and over again. 

The Winter Wind Etude - this piece is difficult. So difficult that the few times Caitlyn heard it, she immediately assumed that she’d never be able to play it. So difficult that despite it being an etude, designed only to be an exercise, many perform it as a stand-alone piece.

And alone does Jinx stand, seething in this crowded, dark venue. She is the only one on stage, in the entire room, in all of Piltover. She is the only one who’s mattered this entire goddamned night. Cait watches her- a pure soloist, a challenged artist - touch every key with both fervor and grace.

Jayce was right, the view is great.

Caitlyn doesn’t know where the time goes from beginning to end. Jinx only plays the one piece for three minutes, but Caitlyn clamors for something more, more of Jinx. She wants to carve a piece of Jinx and put it in her pocket. Jinx bows and Caitlyn’s heart screams at her, telling her that they are two of the loneliest beings in all of Piltover and that Caitlyn needs her.

Caitlyn needs her, something raw and real in her bones.

The audience claps, but Caitlyn is too dazed to do so with them.

When the audience is finally permitted to leave the auditorium, Caitlyn runs as fast as Jayce does to get backstage.

--

Jayce slaps a hand on Viktor’s back, an action that is supposed to be friendly but comes across as very gay.

“Great job, Viktor!” he says, and Viktor looks like he wants to crawl back inside the dark hole he came out of. Caitlyn knows Viktor. She knows that the stage isn’t necessarily his oasis and that performing is only a vocational necessity for people like him. 

“Thank you, Jayce,” Viktor says quietly. He looks up at Caitlyn with a polite smile. “It’s good to see you, Caitlyn. Did you like the showcase?”

Oh good, Caitlyn can talk about the only thing she’s been wanting to talk about.

“It was lovely,” she says, a bit too quick. “It’s nice to see the local talent. Did you know that I used to play classical piano growing up?”

“I didn’t.”

“Well, it was only a few years, but it was nice to see another performance.”

Please, please, god, give me the information that I need-

“Oh, yes. Jinx is her name? Very talented. I’ve had her accompany me a few times.”

Jinx.

The sound of her name sets Caitlyn’s nerves ablaze.

“You used to go to school with her?” 

Viktor nods. “Used to. She went for mechanical engineering. But I believe she, ah, dropped out of the program.”

Oh. If Caitlyn could have dropped out, maybe she wouldn't be so… like this. Trapped, in a world she hates that eats her soul like a scavenger. 

“She was phenomenal,” Caitlyn comments, trying her best not to sound too excited. “Would you happen to know of a way I could tell her?”

Viktor blinks at her. He’s never seen Caitlyn want anything as much as this, not when they go shopping, not when other women approach her for a phone number, not when Jayce asks what she wants for dinner.

“You could tell her yourself.” Viktor points across the room. His withered arm sags a bit as he does, but the direction leads to Jinx surrounded by a crowd of clamoring audience members. They surround her like pigs to a trough- hungry.

Oh, Caitlyn isn’t brave enough to go tell her. Not in front of all those other people- all those girls. Definitely not in front of all those girls.

“Or I could give you her phone number,” Viktor suggests when he sees Caitlyn deflate. Caitlyn looks back at him and nods. She nods very quickly. Viktor opens his phone and starts scrolling through his contacts. Cait watches desperately. She feels herself being engulfed into a dark, tumultuous fate.

--

“Hello?”

Caitlyn didn’t know what she imagined Jinx’s voice to sound like. It’s raspy and harsh, a bit aggressive when she picks it up.

Caitlyn had waited a day before calling. That only seemed polite. But now she has no idea what she’s supposed to say to Jinx.

“Hello,” Cait says, out of her element and pathetic.

“Who is this?” Jinx asks. It’s a logical question. Caitlyn is being incredibly impulsive and stupid right now.

“I. Um. My name is Caitlyn. Caitlyn Kiramman.” The last name usually sweetens the pot for most people, if they know who she is. “I saw you perform last night.”

There’s a snicker on the other line that sparkles. It sears asphalt into Caitlyn’s skin.

“Oh. Okay. So why did you call? Are you another groupie?”

The implication eats Caitlyn alive.

“No, I- I was wondering if you taught lessons.”

A pause.

“Taught lessons?”

Caitlyn persists despite the sirens in her head and the heat in her gut. “Yes. I’d like to learn from you. If you’d let me.”

She pauses a bit before adding, “Please.”

“I don’t usually teach newbies.” Jinx’s tone is flat. It hurts.

“I’m not a newbie,” Caitlyn protests, though it’s been so long since she’s played that she might as well be considered one. But oh, she wants this. She’s wanted this more than finishing her degree, more than getting the job she has, even more than alienating herself away from the Kiramman name.

“Huh.” Jinx considers. “Well then. Would you be down to drive to where I live, Kiramman?”

“Where do you live?” Cait asks, an automatic yes. Jinx laughs at this and Caitlyn feels her heart try to beat itself to death.

Jinx tells her the address. Caitlyn knows that it’s on the shady side of town when she looks it up because of all the times her parents have told her not to go there. She tells Jinx thank you, her heart pounding, her head spinning, and agrees to come over on Saturday morning.

--

“So, what do ya want from me, Kiramman?”

Jinx smiles at Caitlyn, cocky and infuriating in a way that plunges Caitlyn into a cauldron and boils her alive.

Caitlyn notes that Jinx refuses to call her by her first name in all encounters- be it phone, text, or email. They’ve messaged each other a bit to discuss things such as tuition costs and methods of payment, but Caitlyn hasn’t seen Jinx in person, let alone talked to her, since the night of the showcase.

Cait sets her bag down on the floor and shuffles her feet a bit, biting her lip. Something about Jinx’s tone and her presence makes her feel uncharacteristically submissive.

“I said already. I want you to teach me piano.”

Jinx sits in her chair. She raises a brow, picking at her cuticles. “Yeah, no shit. Here’s a better question: What piece do you want to play?” 

“Pardon?” Caitlyn’s jaw tenses. She didn’t know she was supposed to have anything prepared before she came over.

Jinx rises. She draws to Caitlyn the way predator does to prey and stands close to her- much too close for a normal student-teacher interaction. Jinx traces the top of her nail under Caitlyn’s jawline, critical eyes boring through her, and Caitlyn shivers. Despite being dizzy with desire, she’s lucid enough to note that this is most certainly not how her previous piano teacher acted.

“I’m not going to teach you art with no substance. You should always have to have something to say. I need you to pick a piece if you want to learn from me.”

“Oh, um. Yes. Of course.”

Caitlyn falters and blushes, and Jinx pulls away. She seems displeased with Caitlyn. Cait fumbles, trying to pull her phone out, and begins searching for the first thing that comes to mind. 

Something Chopin. Something indigo and soothing. Talk about the night sky, a lullaby-

Caitlyn fiddles with the YouTube search bar, typing guess after guess. She can feel Jinx grow more irritated with her with every passing second, but nothing Caitlyn searches produces the result that she wants. Fuck, Caitlyn can never remember the name.

Jinx huffs and leans over to take a peek at Caitlyn’s phone. “Oh,” she breathes, and Caitlyn freezes. “I know what you’re looking for. Chopin’s Nocturne in E flat major.”

Caitlyn types in the name Jinx suggests into the YouTube search bar and listens to the first few seconds. Sure enough, Jinx is right; this is the piece she was looking for.

“Basic,” Jinx comments flatly and with an eye roll, making Caitlyn's jaw tense. “But good for beginners. Why’d you pick it?”

Cait stammers. “I- I used to have my father play it for me before bed.”

Jinx scoffs. She shoves her hands into her pockets. “You and the rest of the rich babies back on top-side.”

Rich babies. Top-side. Do all piano teachers degrade like this? Caitlyn’s skin itches.

“My dad is dead,” Jinx says plainly, like she's bragging, and shrugs. “The biological one, anyway. The adoptive one just lives in the Undercity.”

Jinx’s lackadaisical, callous statements- hearing them is like being shot at rapid-fire. Caitlyn’s expression twists in confusion. She opens her mouth to respond, but Jinx doesn’t let her.

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry for me. I hear it enough. Besides, I don’t want us getting too chummy.”

Well, Jinx is doing well at keeping things from getting too chummy, that’s for sure. 

Caitlyn scowls. “Noted.” 

Jinx smiles, something equally evil and enticing. Caitlyn thinks she might be making a huge mistake now, but all her blood boils for her to continue.

“When do we start?” Cait asks.

“Next week. You have a piano at home?”

“A grand.”

Jinx gags. “Fucking rich people.” She enunciates all the syllables like it’s fun for her.

“But you also have a grand piano?” Cait protests, scandalized.

“Yeah, but I’m poor as shit. So it’s better.”

Caitlyn squints at her and Jinx squints back. They sit there for a moment, bristling and agitated, then Jinx bursts into laughter, something like a mad jester. Caitlyn scowls at her, almost reaching for her bag to begin leaving.

“Okay, okay,” Jinx says, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye from laughing. “Print out the music and come back next week at the same time. We’ll see what happens.”

“What, you're not going to teach it to me first?” Caitlyn stares incredulously at her new teacher.

“Bah. You're no fucking fun. I know what I'm doing. Don't you trust me?”

Caitlyn supposes she has no choice. She is curious about what Jinx has to offer as a teacher, and she’s already paid for the first month of lessons ahead of time.

Cait huffs and looks at the ground.  “Fine.”

Jinx grins at her, something evil and sadistic, and Caitlyn squeezes her thighs. Her gaze tears Caitlyn apart, and Caitlyn is reminded of the reason why she wanted to take lessons with Jinx in the first place.

She wants that shit-eating grin to eat her alive.

--

(“Please, please, please- ” 

This is a dream. Caitlyn knows this is a dream because she’s never sounded like this with anyone in bed, and she's certainly never been with anyone like this in bed. She’s always been assured, dominant, and assertive. Most importantly, Cait’s always been in control, but she supposes there is no control when the person you’re with stands so powerfully in your mind.

Jinx snickers as she bites pleasure into Caitlyn’s inner thigh. Cait makes a noise like an animal that’s been shot.

“Sad,” she says, and Caitlyn groans again. “You can’t hold out any longer, Kiramman?”

“No,” Caitlyn whines. Her hips buck desperately. Her cunt clenches erratically on the two fingers pumping inside of her. 

Jinx.

Caitlyn can’t say her name aloud; she’s not brave enough.

“I told you to be patient,” Jinx sneers. Her fingers aren’t deep enough, aren’t curling hard enough. “You’re no fucking fun.”

“I’m trying.” Caitlyn’s voice is a broken sob. “I just want more. I want more, please-”

“Give me a sec.” Jinx smiles at her. It’s the same smile she had earlier this week, something enticing and evil and- oh god, it's not enough - “You trust me, don't you?”

Caitlyn whimpers, nodding. She has no choice but to trust her. God, when was the last time she ever felt this lack of choice, what with all her money and prestige? 

“Good,” Jinx says gently. It’s a stark contrast from the treatment Cait’s cunt is getting. The sounds coming out of Caitlyn- both her mouth and her entrance- are obscene. She wants this. She wants Jinx and whatever Jinx will give to her- her praise, her taunting, her fingers-

Fuck. Her fingers. She slips another one of those rough, dexterous fingers into Caitlyn, and Cait chokes on her own desperation, buckling.

“That’s it. Take it, newbie,” Jinx repeats with a burning smile. 

“I know what I’m doing.”)

--

“We’ll start with scales,” Jinx says as Caitlyn sits down at her grand piano. It’s the nicest thing in Jinx’s house- if you could call it a house. The building seems more like a warehouse than anything- brick walls covered in decorative graffiti in a neighborhood Caitlyn isn’t supposed to go to.

Caitlyn sits down on the bench and lets out a breath. Scales. She should remember these. C major is the easiest- all white keys with the most basic of fingering. Jinx pours herself a glass of water as Caitlyn places her hands on the keys.

A few notes come out, one at a time. Caitlyn surprises herself by also playing the chords that go along with it- tonic, predominant, and dominant. She looks back up at Jinx for approval, and Jinx crosses her legs at the piano with her glass of water. She gazes at Caitlyn critically, no praise to be found.

Cait’s spinal cord twitches.  

“Congrats,” Jinx says. It's sarcastic, but not cruel. “You got the easy one. What key is your nocturne in?”

“E flat major,” Caitlyn responds shakily, only knowing because Jinx said so the week before. She’d replayed every word Jinx said to her the week before since then.

“E flat major,” Jinx repeats. “So play me the E flat major scale, newbie.” 

The last word burns through Caitlyn’s gut like acid. She puts her fingers on the keys and plays four notes before Jinx stops her.

“Wrong fingering,” she says, curt. “Don’t fucking- god - don’t put your thumb on the black key. You’ll get stuck there like that.”

Jinx reaches down to fix Caitlyn’s hand, and Cait flinches reflexively. It makes Jinx pause. Then her shoulders slump down and she exhales. Her fingers come now to aid Caitlyn, gentle and warm, with callouses along the sides of some of them.

“Here,” she says, gently now, and Caitlyn stops breathing. “Do this instead. Do you remember how many flats are in this key?”

“Three.” Caitlyn can’t hear her answer through all the blood whirling around in her head.

“Good. Good job, newbie.” Desire rises in Caitlyn’s throat. She wants to hear it again. Again and again, for Jinx to call her good.

“Play the chords that go with it. Like you did before.” So Caitlyn does. She tries, at least.

“God, not like that-” Jinx’s nose scrunches. She pinches the bridge of it. “Just- Okay, fuck. Let me fix you.”

Let her fix me, Caitlyn repeats to herself, breathless.

--

“So, why this one?” Jinx asks again when the lesson is over. She gives Caitlyn a glass of water, and Caitlyn is grateful because it feels a little like she’s run a marathon, emotionally and physically.

“I already told you. My father used to play it for me.”

Jinx rolls her eyes. “Be more specific. Your dad probably played you a lot of songs. What’s so special about this one?”

Caitlyn doesn’t know. 

“I- It’s comforting, I suppose. It’s comforting to me.”

“That’s all?” Jinx’s eye is critical. Caitlyn remembers the other thing Jinx told her, about producing art that has something to say. But Caitlyn doesn’t know what she wants to say. She feels like an infant, unable to communicate.

“That’s all. For now.” Caitlyn will have to think of a different answer because Jinx doesn’t seem to like this one and she isn’t given the praise she wants.

Jinx crosses her legs. She hums, tapping at her chin.

“You called me after you saw me perform the Chopin etude.”

“Yes.”

“What was so special about that one?”

Caitlyn pauses. She knows this answer much better. It’s been sitting on her tongue, in the back of her eyes for weeks.

“It was lonely.”

Jinx stares at her. Caitlyn tries to recall the events of the night she first saw Jinx, bold and alluring, daring enough to wear a suit with no undershirt, and to play one of Chopin’s hardest etudes known to mankind.

“It was lonely. It was haunting, and it made me want to connect.”

Jinx’s mouth opens a little bit. She looks like she’s something close to vulnerable. Then she shuts her mouth and drops her gaze to the floor.

“Connect with who?” she asks. Her voice is hoarse like blood is bubbling up her throat.

Connect with you, but Caitlyn isn’t brave enough to say that.

“With anyone.”

The tension eases, only a bit.

Jinx seems like she likes this answer more than the other ones Caitlyn’s given to her. She stands, takes Caitlyn’s empty glass from her, and touches her shoulder gently. Caitlyn feels it up there and down between her thighs. She watches Jinx as she goes to the sink and starts washing the cup, her neck muscles straining as she does.

“Good job this lesson, Kiramman. I’ll see you next week. Now get out.”

--

(“You’re wet,” Caitlyn tells the Jinx in this dream. Jinx glares at her and scoots up the bed, blushing and clenching her fists.

“Shut your damn mouth, Kiramman.”

“I can help,” Caitlyn beckons. She scoots up the bed to where Jinx is and presses a soft kiss to her temple. Jinx’s jaw tenses. Caitlyn tries not to let it bother her.

“I don’t fucking want your help,” Jinx grunts, not quite shrill enough to be convincing. Caitlyn responds by lifting a leg and setting it back down so she’s straddling Jinx’s hips, looking down at the woman in front of her.

Caitlyn trails long fingers up Jinx’s chest. It’s thin. Frail. Like how Jinx is, but Caitlyn would never say that to her. Instead, she presses her lips to Jinx’s earlobe and sighs, pleased, when no protest comes from Jinx. Caitlyn bites very softly there and feels Jinx’s hips move. Her fist grabs Caitlyn by the hair and tugs.

“Kiramman,” Jinx says again, hoarse.

“I said I could help you,” Caitlyn whispers very softly from where she’s at. “I want to touch you.”

The scene distorts. Glass shatters. Jinx’s voice raises.

“And I said I didn’t want us getting too chummy!”

Jinx jerks Caitlyn’s hair back so Caitlyn isn’t nearly as close to her anymore, and the room goes white with pain. Caitlyn feels fear eat through her like acid as she gazes at Jinx with nothing but rage and hurt in her eyes.

“I’m sorry-” Caitlyn starts.

“I told you I didn’t want your fucking help!” Jinx shrieks at her again. She starts crying and Caitlyn feels herself collapse as she watches. Everything eats Caitlyn alive- dark, tumultuous, and painful.)

Caitlyn wakes up wet everywhere - tears pool in her eyes, her skin is slick with sweat, and oh, the space between her thighs is slick, too. Cait dips her fingers down to feel how fucking ravaged her dream has gotten her (let it be known that it was a lot), and exhales shakily. 

She tells herself she shouldn't. She tells herself she doesn’t even want to masturbate right now, but the evidence leaking out from her, throbbing in her cunt betrays her. Caitlyn pitifully surrenders with a white flag.

Cait’s fingers swirl at her clit hastily. She grinds harshly into one hand and covers her mouth with the other, trying to keep herself from making any noise. She acts as though anyone outside of her isolated studio apartment could hear her, and would care if they could. Caitlyn probably cares the most out of anyone. She cares that she’s rubbing her clit so fiercely, that her fingers are chasing after someone she's not supposed to want, and that she moans Jinx’s name as though they were lovers.

Jinx.

Wisdom far older than her in a body years younger than her.

Jinx.

A college dropout smarter than she is.

Jinx.

A poor person richer than her in every aspect, complicated and broken, perhaps the same way Caitlyn is.

Caitlyn’s voice breaks in a high-pitched moan when she comes. She lays there, lonely and exhausted, then stands to get ready for the day. She washes herself, gets breakfast going, and starts practicing her nocturne.

--

Caitlyn fumbles her way through a short passage of her nocturne during their next lesson and looks at Jinx, awaiting her feedback.

“Yeah. It’s still bad,” Jinx comments, sour. 

Caitlyn huffs, cursing into the keys and feeling rage threaten to burst her blood vessels.

“I’m fucking trying,” she mutters. The metronome is still too fast for her to keep up with all of Jinx’s demands. Bring the melody out more, and put more weight into the keys here. Why the fuck is this passage so uneven, newbie?

“Try harder,” Jinx snaps, crossing her legs in the chair next to her. “And you missed a note on the first beat of the second line.”

Caitlyn grits her teeth.

“Are you always this rude to your students?”

“No.”

She turns to face Jinx.

“No? So why me?” she hisses.

Jinx laughs, hollow. It makes Caitlyn burn- with rage or arousal, she’s not sure. “No, because I don’t usually teach. ”

Caitlyn stares at her, her frustration subsiding momentarily as shock takes hold of her.

“You don’t teach?”

“I play to perform, not to teach,” Jinx sneers. 

The flare of her nostrils doesn’t cover up the implication of her words- that Jinx has elected to teach Caitlyn Kiramman, someone who’s hardly qualified as a student for a performer Jinx’s level, for whatever reason.

“Play those two lines again,” Jinx demands. She stands, coming closer to Caitlyn and bending over the piano so that they’re almost touching. Caitlyn puts her fingers back on the keys, staring down, unwilling to give Jinx the grace of her eye contact. “And could you fucking sit straight? You’re driving me goddamn insane. I would’ve guessed that you’d be better at this. Kiramman.”

Grit teeth again, Caitlyn plays. She fucking hates when Jinx gets like this.

--

(Caitlyn fucking loves when Jinx gets like this- brutal and demanding, not faltering once to bring Caitlyn to her goddamn knees. It’s not real, but it feels real. God, Caitlyn wishes it were real.

“Fuck, Kiramann,” Jinx curses, heavy on her tongue as Caitlyn buries herself into Jinx’s folds. Jinx digs her fingernails into Caitlyn’s hair and jerks Caitlyn roughly so that she's deeper in, and Caitlyn obeys. She obeys, obeys, obeys. God, if it’ll get Jinx to come, Caitlyn will do whatever.

“That's it,” Jinx hisses. Her hips grind against Caitlyn’s tongue and Caitlyn moans something helpless and pathetic, which only makes Jinx smirk. The taste of it is other-worldly. “I never thought I'd see you like this- god, shiiit- submissive and pathetic like a young bitch. You must really like taking lessons with me.”

Caitlyn only whines. She tries to lean her head back out to protest, and Jinx yanks her back in by the hair.

“I didn't fucking say you could, bitch,” Jinx taunts, and Caitlyn nods. “Just keep doing what I say. I know you like it.”

More nodding. Caitlyn opens her mouth and moans into Jinx’s cunt, and Jinx tightens the grip on her hair, groaning. Her hips jerk into Caitlyn once more. 

“Yeah. That’s right. Good girl. Like that. ”

Caitlyn gets dizzy from the praise. The room spins, the colors blur, and Caitlyn wakes up.)

--

Jinx gives Caitlyn a glass of water when she enters her house for their lesson. Cait takes it politely and sits at the piano, watching as Jinx takes the chair near her.

“This nocturne,” Jinx says as Caitlyn sips the water. “I’ve played it before.”

“You’ve played most Chopin pieces, it seems,” Caitlyn offers, and Jinx chuckles. She doesn’t often get to see Jinx pleased enough to laugh like this. Cait soaks it up.

“I like his stuff. But you’re right about the piece; it’s comforting. Maybe that’s why I played it when I did.”

Caitlyn opens her music and sets in on the stand. “When did you play it?”

“When my parents died.”

Caitlyn stops. She slowly looks back at Jinx, whose gaze is behind them, looking out the window. She looks lonely, as though not one person has ever bothered to reach out and comfort her regarding her parents’ death. 

Caitlyn's fingers tremble and she swallows. She sets the glass of water down on the coaster on the table near her. Then she reaches her hand out-

“Hands on the keys,” Jinx says before she can do anything, returning her gaze to Caitlyn. “Play me the E flat major scale. Three octaves. You can do that, can’t you, Kiramman?”

Kiramman. She hasn’t heard the name newbie in a while now.

Caitlyn sighs and puts her hand back on the keys. She obeys, three octaves up and down. Out of the corner of her eye, she thinks she sees Jinx smile.

--

Jinx fills Caitlyn’s glass again for her before she leaves. She doesn’t feel like she needs it this time but drinks it anyway.

“They died in a shooting,” Jinx offers after Caitlyn takes a sip.

She blinks, hardly processing. “Wait, what?”

“My parents. They died in a shooting. The one on the bridge. More than a decade ago.”

In the revolt against police brutality. Yes, Caitlyn remembers this. It's one of the few reasons she didn't end up pursuing a career as a police officer. But what is she supposed to do with this information? It’s gaping and vulnerable, something a teacher doesn’t seem like they’re supposed to be sharing with their student. 

Cait considers her words and her dreams, what Jinx has given her so far, and what she says she wants from their relationship. She elects not to do anything. She doesn’t reach out. She doesn’t touch or comfort. 

It’s stifling and terrible.

“Okay.”

Jinx’s nose scrunches. In the back of her head, Caitlyn thinks it's cute, but thinks Jinx doesn't want to hear that. 

“Just okay?”

Caitlyn nods. She shrugs and picks up her things. “Yes. You said you didn't want us to get too chummy.”

Jinx blinks. Then she turns her head to back her piano and doesn't look at Caitlyn, and Caitlyn falters. She fiddles with the corners of her music book, feeling like she did something wrong. Guilt buries her. Loud honks and terrible screeching drown her ears.

Caitlyn wants to take it back but she doesn’t. Caitlyn would do a lot of things if she were braver.

“Yeah. You're right,” Jinx says, still not looking at Caitlyn. “You can get going now.”

Caitlyn doesn’t want to go. She wants to draw closer to Jinx. She wants to put her hand on her cheek and gaze into big blue eyes and tell her that she’s not alone. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t know how to approach her nor does she know how to say it.

Caitlyn puts on her shoes and leaves.

--

(This dream is different. Jinx is different in this dream.

She whines, soft and high, nothing like the harsh voice she uses when Caitlyn makes a mistake on the piano. It's gentle. Needing. This Jinx needs Caitlyn, and Caitlyn needs this Jinx too.

Caitlyn spreads Jinx’s thighs in her dream very gently. She knows a little about how damaged Jinx is. She knows that Jinx is vulnerable, and Caitlyn wants to hold space for that. She wants to reach out. To touch. To connect and to comfort. She can do this, even if she can't always play the way Jinx wants her to.

“I'm here,” Caitlyn says softly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Touch me,” Jinx says, not specific enough. Caitlyn sighs at her lack of instruction, but Jinx doesn’t seem to notice. She just keeps gazing down at Caitlyn, waiting and trembling. 

Cait traces Jinx’s slit with her index finger, from her entrance to her clit, and stays on Jinx’s clit when a high-pitched whimper escapes her.

“Here?” Caitlyn asks tentatively. Jinx nods, short and flustered.

“Okay,” Caitlyn breathes and starts drawing little circles into Jinx. Jinx keeps nodding, achingly soft, and slowly comes apart. Caitlyn wants to be swallowed by the ordeal. She wants Jinx to swallow her. 

She wants Jinx. No entity on earth could deny this fact from her.)

--

“I know why I'm playing this song,” Caitlyn finally says during their next lesson, pulling out her music. Jinx raises a brow.

“Why are you playing it?”

“I want to connect. And I want to comfort. The same way this piece does to me.”

Jinx squints at Caitlyn like she doesn’t believe her. Caitlyn’s skin feels itchy and irritated. Is it so hard to believe that Caitlyn could have emotions? That she's capable of human connection?

She thinks about the amount of friends she has.

Oh, wait. Perhaps it is difficult to believe.

“Connect with who?” Jinx asks, still needing to be convinced. It's the same question she first asked weeks ago. Her gaze acts like a vulture, it skins and eats Caitlyn alive as though she were roadkill.

Connect with you.

“With anyone,” Caitlyn replies, still the same pathetic answer from weeks ago, too. Perhaps one day she’ll be brave enough to tell Jinx the truth. Her piece isn’t even finished yet; she still has time.

“Huh.” Jinx stares a few moments longer and Caitlyn’s heart ticks like a time bomb. Then Jinx stands, goes to the kitchen, and starts pouring both her and Caitlyn a cup of water. “Well, get to it. You're only on the second page, and your runs sure as fuck aren't comforting anyone right now.”

Jinx sets both glasses on top of the table near the piano. Her gaze is critical and her eyebrows are raised as she gestures for Caitlyn to begin playing, and Caitlyn smiles. She's grown quite fond of Jinx’s biting side. She thinks it might make her a better student. It's either that or the wet dreams. Or both.

Jinx smiles back when Caitlyn’s fingers start playing the keys.

--

“The runs are too fast,” Caitlyn complains. “I can't do them.”

“Yes, you fucking can,” Jinx bites, annoyed. She comes closer to Caitlyn, drapes her skinny torso over her, and begins fussing with the bend of Cait’s fingers.

Cait holds her breath the whole time. She can feel the softness of Jinx’s chest draping over her shoulder. She feels the small, shallow breaths she takes, something like a bird, and the gentle swell of her breasts.

Cait squeezes her thighs. 

“There. If you don't curve your fingers like that, you won't be able to play them quick enough.” Jinx huffs at her, annoyed. She steps back from the piano and crosses her arms. “Stop saying shit like ‘I can't do it’. It pisses me off.”

“I can't do it without you, ” Cait mutters quietly.

“What?” Jinx hisses.

“Nothing. I’ll try the run again.”

Jinx scowls at her and nods. Caitlyn plays the run again. It goes smoother this time.

--

Jinx starts cutting apples up after their lesson ends. Curiosity strikes Caitlyn; she’s never seen Jinx eat before. Jinx is skinny like a crow. She supposes this snack suits her.

Jinx looks up at Caitlyn while she stares at her. It makes Cait blush.

Fuck, you’re not supposed to blush about your teacher.

You’re not supposed to fuck yourself to the thought of her, either.

“Do you want some?” Jinx asks, glowering. Caitlyn nods, hungry. She wishes there were more substance to her snack, but this will have to do.

Jinx begins to cut another apple. “Do you want to perform your piece at a recital?” she asks from behind the counter.

Cait considers. “I’ve never thought of it.” 

Jinx raises a brow. “But you said you wanted to play that piece to connect with people. How are you supposed to do that alone in my house?”

To connect with you, but Caitlyn can’t tell Jinx this quite yet. And if she tells Jinx that she doesn’t need to play in a recital to connect with who she wants to connect with, she’s as good as dead.

“Okay. I could play at a recital.”

Jinx sets a plate of apples across from Caitlyn on the counter and Caitlyn meanders over, sitting down and eating. “There’s a music store near here that’s hosting one for adult beginners. I could sign you up.”

“Would you be going?” The question escapes Caitlyn before she has the time to consider what it means.

Jinx laughs. Caitlyn blushes again, something she knows she’s not supposed to do. “It’d be fucked if I didn’t come. I’m your teacher.”

Caitlyn thinks about all the festivals and recitals she played at growing up. Her teachers usually came. Her parents, too. But Caitlyn doesn’t need her parents at this one.

“That’s nice of you,” Caitlyn says gently, taking another bite of apple. Then she freezes. She doesn’t think Jinx will like hearing that she’s nice.

Jinx surprises her.

“I hope it is. Nobody came to my recitals after my parents died.”

Caitlyn stops chewing and looks at Jinx, who looks so small, so vulnerable at the kitchen counter as she cuts up another apple with a sad smile. Caitlyn gets the urge that she’s had for the past couple of weeks to touch Jinx. To connect. To comfort. But before she can even resist it, Jinx goes to the pantry and starts rummaging around, taking the temptation away with her. 

She comes back and sets a jar of peanut butter and a spoon on the counter for Caitlyn. More substance to this skimpy snack. 

Caitlyn opens the jar. 

“Why’d you stop taking lessons?” Jinx asks, beginning to eat.

“Youthful rebellion, I suppose.” Jinx raises a brow at this. “My mother had me perform in festivals and recitals, and it was only a matter of time before I recognized that she simply wanted the heir to the Kiramann name to look good to the public. So I stopped.”

Jinx bites into the apple, quiet.

“What a waste.”

Caitlyn blinks. “What?”

“You play good, Kiramman. You learn fast. Maybe we could have played together if you didn’t stop.”

This feels like praise. And Jinx’s praise does filthy things to Caitlyn.

She swallows, aching and throbbing between the legs.

“Maybe.”

--

(“Look at you, doing so well,” Jinx coos to Caitlyn, and Caitlyn crumbles onto her knees. Jinx curls three fingers into her from behind, thrusting harshly, and Caitlyn gasps and pushes herself further onto Jinx. Like a good girl for her teacher. 

“Can you take more?” Jinx asks, and even in a dream, Caitlyn knows what this means. She nods, her mouth open. Drool probably seeps out of it. She can feel Jinx grin, even if she can't see her face. She can feel Jinx’s hands coming out of her cunt, then gripping her hips so that short fingernails almost bruise the flesh there. The tip of a dildo traces her slit and Caitlyn’s hips tremble.

“I would’ve loved to see you,” Jinx husks, low. She begins to sink the strap in. Caitlyn gasps and groans. “I would have loved to see that pretty face and those pretty hands playing before me. Or after me. Do you think you would have been better than me? Good enough to go on after I did?”

She thrusts into Caitlyn. Caitlyn clenches and moans. Fuck.

“No,” she responds, choked and broken and desperate for more. “I wouldn’t have been.”

“I guess we’ll never know.” Jinx laughs. “What a waste.” 

The thrusts come quicker and harder now, somehow both filling Caitlyn and making her all the more hungry. Jinx pulls out suddenly, then roughly takes Caitlyn by the shoulder and flips her onto the bed so that she’s facing up and Jinx can see her face as she fucks her. 

“This will have to do, huh? Let me see you. Open up, pretty girl.” 

Jinx sticks two fingers into Caitlyn’s mouth, and Caitlyn obeys, as always. She lavishes her tongue around Jinx’s knuckles, and Jinx groans. The strap pushes deep into her, and Caitlyn takes it, the way she knows Jinx wants her to.)

--

Caitlyn knows she shouldn’t want it, but she wants Jinx to go with her to the recital, not just come for her.

But that’s chummy. Much too chummy for a student-teacher relationship.

If that’s even what their relationship is anymore.

Jinx stands outside the music store in the dark that night, dressed once again in a loose suit. Caitlyn can see the gentle swell of her breasts from the ‘V’ where the blazer cuts, and she tries not to stare.

Caitlyn tried to be brave today. Brave like Jinx. She wears a blazer over her dress and her heels are a little shorter.

“Are you ready, Caitlyn?” Jinx asks. Caitlyn shivers at Jinx calling her by her first name. Jinx holds out her hand, something previous piano teachers never did, and Caitlyn takes it.

This is not a normal student-teacher relationship.

Jinx guides her into the music store and they sit down, flipping through the program of adult beginners. Jinx’s knee rests near Caitlyn’s thigh, and through some subtle maneuvering, Caitlyn presses her leg against it without Jinx noticing. At least, Caitlyn thinks Jinx doesn't notice. She assumes that if Jinx did, she'd move her leg away.

“Did you ask anyone else to come?” Jinx asks Caitlyn before the first performer goes on stage. “Jayce or Viktor?”

“No.” She's a bit too quick to say it, but at least Caitlyn is honest.

Jinx smiles at her, looking a little less lonely for once. Caitlyn thinks that maybe she’s finally done it; maybe she’s finally beginning to communicate what Jinx means to her.

Caitlyn smiles back.

--

Caitlyn tries to remember what Jinx told her about performing before she goes up, about producing art with substance, and that Caitlyn should know what she's trying to say before she attempts to connect with anyone.

Caitlyn wants to connect with Jinx. She wants her to be comforted by the nocturne, the same way Caitlyn was comforted by it. She knows of Jinx’s past, knows that it was ragged and harmful, and she knows why Jinx acts so harshly about her music and towards Caitlyn now. Caitlyn wants to soothe it. She wants to trace her finger along the shattered glass and lick the blood onto her tongue.

She plays. 

She plays. The tempo presses forward and lulls and its cascading melodies sweep the room. She focuses on soft sounds at the fragile spots and heavy sounds at the bold spots. She bends her fingers the right way, and the runs come out elegantly. She thinks about what she wants out of the performance, and what she wants is Jinx.

The audience claps and Caitlyn forgets to get up. She stands and bows after a dazed moment, then looks out to the audience and straight at Jinx, whose eyes seem glassy and fragile.

Jinx seeming fragile. She’s small in the dark light of the music store. She would look lonely if she wasn't tethered to the other loneliest woman in all of Piltover.

Caitlyn wants to swallow her whole.

--

“You did well,” Jinx tells Caitlyn as they walk out of the music store. Cait soaks it up and drinks the praise, parched.

More Jinx. Caitlyn needs her, something raw and real.

“Thank you. I'm curious; when did you play that nocturne?” 

Jinx pauses, holding her hands out to count the years on her knobby, slender fingers. (Caitlyn tries not to imagine those fingers inside of her.)

“Ten years ago. At a competition.”

Caitlyn does the math to figure out how old she was when Jinx played the same piece. She must have been about seventeen, long out of practice by then.

“What were you thinking when you performed it?” she asks, curious, and Jinx stops walking. That tense, thin, and cold frame unravels, piece by piece into the night as she tries to remember. 

She sighs. “I don’t know. It was so long ago, and no one was coming, so I didn’t have anyone to play it for.”

Cait’s heart shakes. Jinx doesn’t look at Caitlyn when she talks; she only stares at the ground, the same she gets when they’re at her house. But this vulnerability is deeper and bluer than any vulnerability she's ever offered there. Now, Caitlyn and Jinx are outside in the dead of night for anyone to see, and Jinx finds herself bleeding only for Caitlyn. Only into Caitlyn’s palms.

Jinx clenches her jaw. “I think I mostly just wished my fucking parents weren’t dead. I don’t know.” 

A hole, gaping and barren, opens up between the two of them, and Caitlyn wants to fill it. Dark night skies and big blue eyes and fuck, Caitlyn wants to fill Jinx up to the brim. She wants to fuck Jinx to death and bring her back to life until Jinx is crying and telling Caitlyn how good she is for doing it. 

To connect. To comfort.  What do these words even mean anymore?

It doesn’t matter. Caitlyn can decide what they mean. For her. For them.

Caitlyn holds her hand out like Jinx did before they went into the music store, and Jinx looks up. Bravery takes hold of Caitlyn by the shoulders and lust draws her closer to Jinx with a rope around the neck.

“Take it,” Caitlyn commands, no longer a student. The performance is over. She doesn’t need to play this game anymore.

“What?” Jinx shrinks. She squints at Caitlyn with a scared tremble in her pupils, no longer a teacher. No longer needing to be powerful, free of requests.

“I want you to come to my apartment.” Jinx’s breath catches. “You fixed me like you said. You taught me how to communicate.” Caitlyn's desperation escapes through her eyes. It probably drips between her legs and leaks onto the sidewalk. “I can fix you like this. Please.”

Jinx’s gaze and hers fit like puzzle pieces in the dark of the starry, blue night. Jinx stares at her, seething and blistering as Caitlyn waits.

“Okay. Take me home, Caitlyn.”

Her hand burns through Caitlyn’s skin when takes it.

--

Caitlyn pulls Jinx in by the hand when they get to her apartment. Jinx is oddly docile from the moment she enters, like a puppy Cait has to drag around. Soft. Obedient. 

God, Caitlyn needs her.

“Jinx,” Caitlyn says, and the shorter woman looks up at her. Her eyes are big like the full moon, and Caitlyn wants to bore through Jinx, into her core. “Come here.” Her words are less of a sentence and more of a groan.

Caitlyn leans down at the same moment Jinx tiptoes up. They kiss, and Jinx makes a noise, soft and gentle in the comfort of Caitlyn’s apartment. Caitlyn soaks it up. She basks in her moonbeams, desperate and needy for more.

Cait’s arm wraps around Jinx’s waist, small and short. She slowly guides Jinx into her bedroom, sighing in pleasure with each small noise that escapes from Jinx’s mouth, every tentative stroke of her tongue, the fingers on the back of Cait’s back- this is much more intoxicating than a fleeting wet dream.

“I want to touch you,” Caitlyn breathes as she lays Jinx on the bed. The words are all too familiar. Jinx looks at her with big, fragile blue eyes, and Caitlyn reaches up to hold her cheek. Jinx melts. Caitlyn melts. The stars bleed together. “Please.”

“Caitlyn,” Jinx breathes, and the name travels between Cait’s legs. “I-I don’t-”

Cait drops her hand immediately, hesitating. “But only if you want me to. We don’t have to do anything if you’ve changed your mind.”

“No, I just-” Jinx's hips writhe and her nose scrunches up. Even now, Caitlyn thinks it’s cute. Jinx scoots up on the bed and leans her back on Caitlyn’s pillows, nervous and scared.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jinx says, so soft it’s almost swallowed up by the room. “I’ve never even dated someone.”

Dizzy, Caitlyn tries to collect herself. She can’t believe the amount of restraint she exercises in the wake of a woman she wants so deeply, since the moment she saw her name.

“I’ll teach you,” Caitlyn says. “Do you want me to teach you?”

“Teach me how to love?” Jinx asks incredulously. With bite. She collapses in on herself, fisting Caitlyn’s bed sheets as her jaw clenches.

“No," Caitlyn says steadily. "You don’t need to know about that. But I can teach you how to receive mine. You don’t have to do anything. We don’t even have to see each other after tonight. But right now, I want to touch you.”

A lullaby. Starry and indigo, bold and charming. It fills Caitlyn’s bedroom and lulls Jinx’s eyes shut.

“Okay, Caitlyn,” she says, about to cry. “Teach me.”

There’s a short, fragile pause before Jinx adds, “Please.”

Caitlyn thinks she’s dreaming, but she isn’t. 

Jinx begins removing her blazer. Caitlyn still feels like she’s dreaming because she finally gets to do what she’s been wanting for months. She slides down Jinx’s chest, squeezing at her breasts. She begins to suck and lick at Jinx's nipples until Jinx whines and twists around underneath Caitlyn. Tears spill from Jinx’s eyes every now and then, and Caitlyn lets them fall, gently stroking the skin at Jinx's ribcage as she does so. She occasionally rises back up to Jinx’s face to swipe a thumb along her cheek, wiping tears, and pressing soft kisses to Jinx’s temples. Jinx’s breaths get a little deeper each time she does, so Caitlyn keeps doing it. It’s almost like it’s comforting for Jinx to have Caitlyn come back to her, again and again. 

Good.

Caitlyn lifts Jinx's hips and slides Jinx’s pants down for her, along with sopping wet underwear, and Caitlyn traces the indent of her folds with her fingers. Jinx blushes something furious when she does, and Caitlyn smiles. She’s never seen Jinx so pliant.

“Do you know what you want?” she asks Jinx.

“How would I know that?” Jinx snaps with no bite, and Caitlyn laughs. Jinx’s face gets redder.

“Okay. Then how about this: I’ll do what I like to myself, and if you want something different, you’ll let me know.”

Jinx’s scowl shrinks. Her eyes get wide, big, and blue. Soft and wanting. Her thighs tremble.

“Okay.”

“Spread your legs for me.”

It’s both intimate and lewd, the way Caitlyn touches Jinx. She slowly guides her finger through slick folds, collecting wetness, going up and down as Jinx furrows her brows and bites her lip. After a short while of this, Caitlyn lands at Jinx’s clit, and as she did in Caitlyn’s dream, Jinx whimpers.

Caitlyn smiles. She sticks to slow circles there, relishing in the gradual progression of occasional high whimpers to soft groans and the occasional fuck, Caitlyn.

Jinx reaches down and grasps Caitlyn’s wrist, hard. It pinches the skin there.

“Yes?”

“I want something different.”

Caitlyn raises a brow, her breath heavy. Every part of her body is warm. “What do you want?”

“Fuck me.”

Caitlyn thinks that this is only a wet dream- that it’s pure fantasy- but it’s not. How could any part of this be real? How is Jinx real?

Caitlyn gets woozy. Very slowly, she presses the tip of a finger into Jinx’s entrance, and Jinx whines. Her hips tilt up to allow Caitlyn to enter her, and Caitlyn begins to finger Jinx. 

Jinx falls apart. Tears begin to well as she does.

“More. More, harder,” Jinx tells Caitlyn, close to a sob, and Caitlyn obeys. She obeys, obeys, obeys. Caitlyn fingers Jinx, passionate and obscene, with no barriers of a student-teacher relationship nor something too chummy getting in the way of doing it. Jinx mumbles Caitlyn’s name, over and over, and Caitlyn swears that this sounds more like music than anything she’s ever played on the piano. Anything sounds like music to her if it comes from Jinx.

Caitlyn wants to give her more. She takes her other hand, previously resting on the bed, and begins rubbing into Jinx’s clit- slow and soft circles- and Jinx groans. Caitlyn thinks she sees tears begin to leave Jinx’s eyes as she does, small sobs of pleasure leaving her too.

“Please,” Jinx says, sad and needy and desperate. Caitlyn decides at that moment that she would do anything Jinx wants. She already has been for months.

“Please what?” Caitlyn asks, the awe in her chest stripping away most of the volume in her voice.

“Please don’t stop,” Jinx sobs. Her nose runs and she sniffs. Caitlyn figures Jinx must be close. She continues pumping, adding in another finger and rubbing her clit.

Anything. Anything to get Jinx to come, Caitlyn will obey.

And she does come. Jinx unfurls under her. It isn’t brave, commanding, or powerful. It’s fragile and delicate, swathed in blankets of grief. Snot runs down Jinx’s chin, and Jinx tries her best to wipe it up as her hips and her thighs twitch. Caitlyn stands and wipes her hand on her dress, then takes Jinx’s body into her arms.

“I’m here,” she says. These words ease Jinx. She squeezes Jinx softly between her arms. 

You’re not alone.

“Can I stay here?” Jinx asks, still crying, broken and beautiful. "Can I spend the night?"

Caitlyn squeezes Jinx in her arms. “Of course.”

Caitlyn is here. She doesn’t want to go anywhere. For as long as Jinx wants, Caitlyn is here.

--

Jinx isn’t in Caitlyn’s bed when Caitlyn wakes up. She panics, immediately shooting up and throwing the covers off.

Christ. Fuck. Maybe Caitlyn was too quick to tell Jinx we don’t even have to see each other after tonight when they first got into her bedroom. She slides off her bed and leaves her room, nervously combing through matted hair with her fingers. 

Relief floods through Caitlyn when she walks into the living area and sees Jinx gazing down at the inner workings of her grand piano. She’s fully clothed once again, her blue bangs are just as ratty as usual, and her braids are still intact. Jinx runs a finger through the inside, along the strings and some of the dampers. Caitlyn exhales in relief. She supposes Jinx is too jittery to be the type to longue in bed after waking.

Pleased, Caitlyn makes her way over to where Jinx is.

“Good morning, Jinx.” 

Jinx looks up at her, big blue eyes heated and wide, and she bites her lip. She's thin and scraggly, as always, but looks less empty than Cait’s seen her previously.

Caitlyn is proud to be the one to have filled her.

Jinx looks back down at the piano. Her jaw tenses. Caitlyn raises a brow, tension building in her chest.

“I think I should stop being your piano teacher,” Jinx mumbles. Caitlyn thinks she hears glass shattering. 

“I'm sorry. What? Did- Did I do something wrong-?’

“No,” Jinx’s tone is biting, like when Caitlyn plays a wrong note on the piano. “You didn't do anything wrong, fuck, I just-”

She looks back up at Caitlyn. Caitlyn’s heart trembles, tethered to the rough, dexterous fingers of Jinx.

“I don't want you to pay me anymore.”

Oh. 

Caitlyn stares at Jinx a bit longer, easing. She doesn't think much when it's this early. She goes to Jinx, reaches out, and softly cups her hands around Jinx’s cheeks. Jinx’s eyes widen at the gesture, but she settles into it, melting into Caitlyn’s hold.

Jinx closes her eyes and rests her cheek against Caitlyn’s thumb. “I can still teach you things if you ask me. But you can think of it as more of a favor… between friends.”

Caitlyn grins. She holds Jinx's face a bit tighter and dares to take a half step closer to her.

“Are we friends, then?” she teases. Amusement grips them both firmly.

Jinx glares at her. “I fucking hate you, Caitlyn.” - an automatic yes.

A kiss meets Jinx’s forehead.

“I fucking hate you, too.”

--

“Did you ever end up calling Jinx?” Jayce asks Caitlyn over lunch with Viktor. They seem to have figured themselves out in months that have passed since Caitlyn’s last seen them. They sit unbearably close, Jayce’s hand sitting comfortably on Viktor’s thigh. Viktor takes a small bite of his french fry.

“I did. I even took lessons with her for a bit.”

Viktor’s eyebrows raise. “I didn’t know Jinx taught.”

“She doesn’t.”

Jayce and Viktor look at each other.

“And how are your lessons going?” Jayce asks, turning back to Caitlyn. Caitlyn smiles. 

“Oh, she stopped being my professional teacher after a couple of months. Now we’re more of just friends that play together sometimes.”

“Friends,” Viktor marvels. “I could never get to that point with her when she accompanied me. She said she didn’t want us getting- uh- I believe her words were ' too chummy'.”

“Maybe you’re special,” Jayce suggests to Caitlyn with a smile.

Cait beams with the light of all the stars in the night sky.

“Maybe I am.”