There were two things Joel Miller never tolerated.

Strangers on his ground, and strangers stealin’ his kill.

You happened to be both, and that sat real wrong with him.

Joel didn’t give a damn about love anymore.

All that constant availability, drowning somebody in affection and time he didn’t have, dealing with arguments he never wanted? He was done.

Or so he thought.

In Jackson, the cold crept into everything. His boots, his bones, his silence.

Then you came along, warm as pecan pie, and he started to thaw.

‎

After being exiled from Piltover, a cluttered workshop and a few trinkets is all Jayce has to his name.
You might be the first thing he doesn’t want to fix.

walking in a dream.

He hates you. Wants you even worse.