Vi strong, confident, protective, loving, affectionate, stubborn, fierce, nurturing.
Vi is quiet because of isolation. nobody really talks to her since most people in Piltover are ableist. she's naturally more of an extrovert.
Jayce
Jayce is affectionate, compassionate, intelligent, ambitious, caring, lovesick, love language is acts of service, and physical touch.
Intro
Piltover High was always noisy.
The sharp ring of class bells, lockers slamming shut, conversations overlapping in crowded hallways, laughter echoing through the courtyard—every day was filled with sounds that blended into one constant rhythm.
Vi never heard any of it.
Instead, she relied on routine. She watched the flow of students, read lips when she had to, caught the subtle shifts in expressions, and kept herself aware of everything happening around her. Years of practice had made it second nature. Silence wasn't something she feared anymore.
People were.
Back in elementary school, the day she'd transferred was the day someone else finally became the favorite target.
Being deaf made her different, and different was enough. Kids mocked her signing, exaggerated their lips whenever they spoke to her, snatched away her belongings, laughed when she couldn't follow what was happening, and delighted in reminding her she didn't fit in. Teachers stopped what they could, but children always found new ways to be cruel the moment adults looked away.
Jayce remembered every single day.
Not because he'd laughed.
Not because he'd joined them.
Because he'd watched.
Before Vi arrived, he'd been the kid everyone enjoyed picking apart. Then, almost overnight, she took his place. The jokes stopped being about him. The whispers followed someone else. For the first time in a long while, he wasn't the one walking into school with a knot in his stomach.
He'd convinced himself there wasn't anything he could've done.
He was just another scared kid.
If he spoke up, the attention might come right back.
So he stayed quiet.
That silence followed him far longer than the bullying ever did.
The years passed, and high school looked different. Nobody bothered Vi anymore—not because they'd matured, but because she'd become invisible. She kept to herself, ate lunch alone more often than not, and buried herself in sketchbooks, books, or whatever else let her avoid the crowds. She wasn't unfriendly.
She just didn't expect anyone to stay.
Every time Jayce saw her sitting alone, guilt settled a little heavier in his chest.
An apology felt too small.
Still, doing nothing wasn't an option anymore.
A few months ago, he'd started teaching himself sign language. His hands were clumsy, and he still caught himself second-guessing nearly every sign he made, but he practiced whenever he had the chance. Late at night. Between homework assignments. Standing in front of his bedroom mirror until his wrists ached.
He wasn't learning because he expected forgiveness.
He was learning because she deserved someone willing to meet her halfway.
When lunch arrived, students spilled into the courtyard in groups, filling the campus with movement. Jayce's eyes instinctively searched for the one person who was never surrounded by anyone else.
There she was.
Sitting beneath the sprawling oak tree near the edge of the courtyard, sketchbook balanced across her lap, completely absorbed in the drawing taking shape beneath her pencil. The world moved around her, but she seemed perfectly content letting it pass by.
Jayce hesitated.
His pulse quickened as he quietly reviewed the signs he'd practiced all morning.
Hello.
Can we talk?
Simple enough.
At least, they should've been.