#yeah its league of legends heartsteel fanfiction what of it

[mantabanter]

Fictober Day 1: "that was good work"

Lance couldn’t think very well. His face felt clammy, like the flesh of his cheeks could fall away at any moment. He had to touch them every once in a while, just to make sure they were still there, fingers trailing neatly at their edges. The past week he’d been covered in a constant layer of sweat, as if he were battling a fever or humid weather. Whatever care he put into his appearance had withered away. On the brink of death, one is forced to prioritize.

First on his list was staying awake. When he stayed awake, the thing couldn’t take him. If he kept himself in control, everything would be alright.

Right now, he was trying to solve a Rubik's cube. His hands trembled, and his brow furrowed as stiff fingers tried to keep track of the changing colours.

”Lancet.” K’Sante’s voice was gentle, but it still came as a shock to the system, and he jumped.

K’Sante evident frown deepened. He was standing above the couch of his apartment. Basked in the dawning light he looked like someone out of a dream, not all quite there. “Do you like the letter Kay?”

”It’s alright I suppose, but I prefer M.” His fingers rubbed his eyes under his glasses, leaving small smudges. “What does that have to do with anything?”

K’Sante said something again, but the sound seemed to hollow out, as if Lance was trapped under a glass like an unfortunate insect. Lance squinted. Looking at K’Sante in the light hurt his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” He said.

An impulse went off in his head, and he tore his gaze away from the man and began the ritual of making sure his face was intact.

There were other ghosts in the room too, faint white shadows, and K’Sante went to join them. In a less sleep-deprived space of mind, he might have questioned the ghosts, but so much had changed since last week that it didn’t feel necessary to question. Satisfied that his skin had not moved all that much, he turned his attention back to the Rubik’s cube.

Demons were real, and one was living inside him.

Red - red - blue.

Demons were real, and they terrorized the city in the shadows of night.

Blue - green - green - yellow.

Demons were real, and there were people around who fought them with mystical powers.

Blue - black - black - blue.

If the demon won, he would be slaughtered by the man he loved.

Red - red - red - red.

If the demon lost?

Lance didn’t know what then, but it was better than the first thing.

He’d solved three sides. It was better than before, but the real challenge was the rest. Lance was not very good at the Rubik’s cube.

A hand seemed to appear from the snow white air around him, snatching it from his hands. Lance flexed his fingers. He didn’t think he’d miss it. Then the hand took his shoulder, and a face was suddenly in his own.

He had sharp features, a pretty face, with even teeth and a bulging, black eye that shone a monstrous shade of fuchsia. His other eye was fine though, a gentle blue. Lance decided he preferred the normal eye.

”You know, you’re not handling it as bad as I thought you would, being a normie.” He said, his voice resonating in his mind like crunching ice. He was impossibly clear and hard to ignore.

Lance winced.

”Don’t look at me.” He said, trying to pry off the mans hand off his shoulder. “You’ll make my skin fall off.”

The other man grinned, and Lance began his face ritual once again.

”Tell him to rest.” K’Sante’s voice felt muffled in comparison to Kayn’s crisp clarity. “Please. He can’t go on like this.”

”Oh, he won’t. Go on like this, I mean. He’s not strong enough.” The man said, his eyes not breaking away from Lance’s face. He seemed to find the fine fingerwork of his skin-check amusing somehow. “You look like shit, by the way.”

Lance didn’t respond as his thumbs began to trace the seams under his eyes. He could lose his cheeks, but he liked his eyes.

”It’s like a parasite. So far, it appears he’s starved it. That was good work. Impressive.”

Even in Lance's fog of mind, he could tell he was being glib.

”What about the host?” Someone else’s voice, he couldn’t pin it. One of the ghosts, maybe. “Is there no method of separation?”

”Depends. Do you feel confident to give it a try?” There was a notable silence. ”One just has to hope it’s a strong host and a weak demon.”

The half-eyed man was wrenched from his vision, pulled out into the glassy white world beyond his fingers. The largest ghost held him by his shoulder, or maybe his neck.

”I didn’t ask for snippy advice. I’m asking you to save him.”

”I can’t save him. That’s not how this works—”

The conversation began to muffle again, the world getting whiter and whiter. He needed his Rubik’s cube but he couldn’t find it. He needed to keep himself awake.

Lance was going to die. The thought didn’t hit him as hard as he thought it ought to.

Yelling. The sounds seemed to float in the air. He could see it, like slow-motion waves of light - swarms that seperated and converged. He began to chew on the edges of his fingers, just for something to focus on.

Sleep sounded good. Soft and warm like the inside of somethings mouth. He wanted to be swallowed, slowly, gently, back into that darkness.

And then again, he winced at the crystal-sluice words in his head.

”You want some real advice? From one host to another?” It crunched, like the sounds were crackling inside his ears. “Be stubborn. Be picky. Demons on the edge of death turn generous: stretch it out, take the best deal its got. That’s all there is to it.”

Lance blinked.

From the light, something tossed the colours back. The Rubik’s cube landed in his lap, fully solved.

”I’ll stick around, because your boyfriend is a good guy and I owe him one."

His silhouette stood out like a black hole amongst the figures of light. The world seemed to seep into him, hungry for all the colours it could find.

"Try not to die."