Work Text:
You were a little unfortunate kid.
Losing your parents from an early age had set you up on a path of pure distress in the Undercity, but your need to survive was greater than anything else. It didn’t matter if you had to be constantly running away from the danger—even if you had run out of luck and received the worst beat up of your (short) life—or biting your nails at the end of the day because you didn’t have something else to eat. You would find comfort in your prayers, hoping one day, your life would be better.
And it did… kind of.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” you murmured, hands behind your back and head hanging low like a dispirited ghost.
“Do what?” He said, his back facing you.
You huffed, this time, ashamed of yourself.
“Come to my rescue?” You quickly answer, trying to hush the embarrassment setting stone on top of your shoulders.
At the age of fourteen, you were really convinced that fighting wasn’t your best virtue. You threw punches to the air, missed every chance you had to knock them fuckers out, and you found yourself eating dirt instead. You were weak... At least, Silco didn’t seem to mind it, not since he found you; he would always find a way to protect you, even if it meant becoming the punching bag.
You were grateful to him, but both of you were in the same situation: two young orphans, starving and hurting from the same disease.
“Ah,” you heard after a while, “Don’t worry about it.”
You stopped walking, the cold of the alley set in your bones since your thin coat is not helping at all, but honestly, you couldn’t give a damn about the weather right at that moment.
“Silco, you literally have a black eye.”
At your comment, he turned around, and you got to see (again) that bruise around his left eye, the swollen area tinted with yellow and slight patches of purple in a way that simply screams pain.
“Yeah, I know.”
It had been hours since Silco took the punch from a moron who thought you had any money, and you felt terribly guilty. That injury was a reminder of your lack of strength, planted in the prettiest part of his face—fuck, it really looked bad.
“I’m sorry,” you murmured again, your eyes darting somewhere else on the floor. There was dirt, sticky beer, and broken glass covering the brick tiles; it was nasty, but the usual. The crack of glass already told you he was walking towards you, but you didn’t really want to take your eyes off that rock, one you almost kicked till another set of boots appeared in your sight.
Eventually, you looked up, finding that set of teal eyes watching you with nothing but kindness. You almost crumbled under his watch. Gods, you wanted to do better. For you and for him. To demonstrate you were capable of protecting yourself, with or without a knife, that you could reach your parents’ age and find a way to live with dignity by his side. That the two of you could lean on each other’s shoulders, but until now, it felt like Silco couldn’t lean on yours.
“You’re crying,” Silco pointed out, his tone so empathic you became aware of yourself.
Shit.
“Liar,” you instantly said, your hands brushing away any evidence of tears from your face.
“Talking to yourself?”
“Shut up.”
Silco laughed, and you almost hit him on the arm.
“You know you can count on me, right? You’re my friend,” Silco reassured you. Then, with his head, he signaled the market behind him. “Let’s go, I’m starving.”
Fried octopus popped on your head. Mm, you could already smell it in the smoky air.
“Me too.”
As soon as you agreed, you started walking towards the Lanes, where the food market was. There was a great variety of fruits there; some merchants sold these weird-looking ones, easy to grab and put in the pocket when necessary. Some stalls served actual food; mostly leftover fish from Piltover. It smelled delicious when deep-fried, but it was too expensive for you to even look at. Still, that didn’t stop you or Silco when urgency makes its way inside your stomachs.
However, there was something else picking inside your guts, so stupid you needed to get it out.
“Sometimes,” you started, looking away from him, “Sometimes, it feels like you picked me up out of the trash and decided to become my protector... Why?”
There was silence, one you really didn’t like, but it was needed.
“I see part of myself in you,” he answered, still walking, “I don’t wish for you to lose hope—I know we’re young, and we’ve faced horrible things, alone... and together, but I want to protect you till the Undercity becomes a better place. I would kill to make it happen.”
“Do you really believe it will get better?”
“I’ll work for it.” His words demonstrated confidence, a quality that is rarely seen in people nowadays. That’s one of the reasons you liked him. That ability to see a solution to any problem, even if those were bigger than you and him together. “It would be easier if we had a group, of course, fighting enforcers, getting supplies... we could do so much.”
When you finally looked up at him, you only got to see the side of his profile—the one untouched by a fist— and his eyes glimmered in a way you were enchanted by it.
Silco had a dream, one he wanted to share with you, even though it sounded impossible at first... Or maybe you had lost all confidence to believe you were capable of accomplishing it. Shit, your friend had taken the bite (countless times) for you, and you couldn’t even properly thank him for that.
You know what? Fuck your fears and fuck your insecurities. The least you could do is fight by his side. What else could you lose? You were a nobody, yes, but Silco had seen something in you. He had given you a chance to do things right. (Easier said than done...)
“We will,” you promised, elbowing his arm friendly. Silco turned slightly to see you, his coal hair flowing freely with the air, and his lips curved in one of those smirks that you secretly liked. The smell of citric and oil interrupted your dreamy train of thought when it danced through your nostrils, and you took your sight away from him. There were a couple of people walking by, finding the best choice of meal to spend their hard-earned Hexes with it, and so were you. “So, what’s on the menu tonight?”
“Mm...” Silco hummed, glancing around the stalls, his hands hiding inside the pockets of his coat. You followed his gaze and found those weird-looking fruit; there were some lumpy oranges, heart lemons, and twisted burdock. Nothing that could fill your stomachs for the rest of the day, you thought. Then, there was the ice fish and carp, raw... Oh, and bread.
Both of you stopped at the sight of the baked goods, two loaves smiling at your empty stomachs.
“Ready?” You watched Silco walking closer to the stall. The vendor’s attention was somewhere behind the spice rack, where some of the brawny onions lay half-cut in slices, the smell of it traveling through the air as you stood there, preparing yourself. Silco’s slender fingers slowly reach for the two pieces of bread. Your heartbeat becomes faster as you wait for him; then, he grabs them faster than you expected, throwing them at you.
You caught them at the last second and, turning on your heels, started running.
You could hear the shouting, the glass breaking under your step, and your heart jumping out of your chest. You were good at running; you kind of loved it. The adrenaline kickin’ in. You were just unlucky sometimes when taking a turn and found a dead-end, but this time, you wouldn’t let that happen.
As you kept running, you heard a loud rumble behind you; curious (or dumb) enough, you glanced back at it and found the vendors shouting and cursing the shit out of you two, their tables lying on the ground, and the food rolling in miserable motion. Silco didn’t wait to appear in your sight right after, catching up to you. His smile appeared when he also glanced at the disaster he had provoked.
You heard him laugh, so... brightly.
And you laughed as well, with a stolen but warm dinner in your hands.
Nine years later.
Sweat was running in a thin coat all over your skin, sucked by a layer of clothes that used to be loose. Your breath was loud, just like the quick steps across the street. You couldn't stop; that wasn't an option. The agonizing waves of heat were distracting; the glistening of the sunset against the lake reflected back to your eyes in a hurtful manner. With squinted eyes, you followed his path, one he had carved carefully for you, swiftly enough to lose the enforcers. You were making your way out of Low Piltover, jumping obstacles in your way, making sure not to hit the people and get yourself a one-way trip to Stillwater.
The bag of goods hit you on the back by the time you stopped by one of the brick walls separating the district from the Fissures. You kept glancing between enforcers in the distance and Silco. Your friend threw his bag over the wall, meeting the floor with a loud thud; then, he grabbed yours and did the same. As soon as you saw the bag midair, both of you started running again, all the way to Southeast. By the time you looked back, one of the enforcers was already trying to retrieve the stolen goods you had, and the other followed you. Just according to plan.
You and Silco knew a couple of ways to get into the Fissures, one of them was meeting a dead end around the locals. It was a very tall building with four floors, and the only accessible window led to an abandoned room on the third floor that had seen better days once. Most would have avoided it, but you had mastered the art of climbing; it was an easy task. When your sight finally found that window glass half-open, you knew what to do. Keeping your hoodie on, you carefully jumped the crates, striding to one of the large pipes by the wall, and steadily climbed the wall till your hand met the old frame of the window. You slid in, an “ugh” leaving your mouth when your body fell on the wooden, dirty floor, but quickly enough, you stood up and opened the window for Silco, whose hand just appeared in front of you. You took it, pulling him inside.
“You good?” You closed the window after him, your lungs interrupting the simple question.
“Yes, yes—let’s go,” Silco simply said, brushing away the sweat off his face before taking your hand.
The floor creaked underneath your step, the ghost of a children’s room echoing your voices before the window broke. At that, you glanced at the enforcer’s gun, appearing, swinging against the glass a second time. You don’t even waste a second before running away. The door closes behind you, and you’re ready to get out of that apartment, hearing the bang, bang, bang of the door imitating your heartbeat till it breaks for once. You had a bad feeling. By the time Silco was closing the door to the apartment, you saw the enforcer. His mask couldn’t express a feeling, but you knew deep down there was rage underneath it. The kind you always saw before someone was ready to commit to insanity.
“Hide somewhere,” Silco murmured, his eyes finding yours with severity. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
You almost roll yours at his warning.
“You’re so annoying-”
“Hide now!” His words came out like a hurried whisper.
You didn’t say a word, but your face evidently expressed your dislike.
As you hid somewhere, you found another home abandoned just like the rest behind that rotten wood door. You really didn’t know what happened to this building, nor did you ever ask yourself why, since it wasn't the only one that looked like a ghost land. The living room had a domestic look, stained by the presence of bottles of beer and cigarette butts scattered on the floor, and spiderwebs decorated the ceiling like the Pumpkin Festival you used to go to when your parents were still alive. Not a great time to reminisce.
“STOP RIGHT THERE!” You suddenly heard, and the hairs stood up on the back of your neck.
Peeking through the door, your attention was placed on the enforcer walking down the aisle, his gun pointing straight at Silco. You didn’t have a doubt.
“Where is she!” The enforcer demanded, taking slow steps closer to your partner in crime. “Speak, now!” You leaned a bit more, finding Silco with hands in the air. His brows were furrowed, his teal eyes glistening with asperity, the rest of his face hiding under a thin maroon scarf. “You sump-rat nobody, you’ll rot in Stillwater. Turn around, hands behind your back!”
Don’t do anything stupid, my ass, you thought to yourself. There was no way you would let that happen.
You have grown. No more punches thrown to the air, no more knives falling out of your hand, fuck no. You had learned how to defend yourself because you had finally found someone to rely on. And that someone was about to get their shit kicked if you didn’t do something.
Your eyes darted everywhere in the room, in search of something to use, till they finally landed on a bat. A kid’s bat... You’ll make it work.
Holding the old wooden bat in your hands, your grip tightens around the handle, and you decide to stay still behind the door, making sure to get the whole picture. The enforcer’s back is facing you, steps away from where you saw him last time. You slide through the door, quietly, knowing damn well you’ll get shot if the building decides to rat you out with its creaking, ghostly sounds.
Your heart is so loud, you can only hear it and believe it’s been pumped with a shot of adrenaline.
You breathe in and out before you decide to land the strongest hit you could have ever given in your entire life. The bat crashes against the enforcer’s neck so hard that it breaks in half. One part stays in your hands, the other falls with the enforcer. Your sight is stuck on him till you can’t deny yourself the satisfaction of kicking him, and you fucking do. One in the ribs, so it hurts later.
“Fucking Piltie,” you mutter, bat handle thrown on the floor, right next to him. When you hear your name said in a tone of surprise, you immediately look at Silco, who is standing right there in front of you with disappointment in his eyes. “What?”
“I told you to hide-”
“And I did! Did you really want me to stay still while this scumbag,” you kicked again, “tried to put you behind bars for life?”
“I had a plan,” Silco simply answers, and you cannot help but huff at it.
By the way he’s looking at you, a scold is on its way up, and for some stupid reason, it pisses you off more than anything. Couldn’t he just thank you for once? Fuck, it really made you feel dumb, like you wanted to hide from his gaze and get over with it, so when you see his mouth opening, you interrupt him first.
“Should we take his uniform? We could use it for an operation,” you suggest, then looking at the shiny weapon in his limp, gloved hands. Curious, you take it—even though you’re surprised Silco didn’t stop you—and take your time to appreciate it. It feels heavy in your hands. The gold and silver accents contrast very well with the navy base; the rough edges were a result of constant usage, you deduced. It was the extension of that enforcer, one you felt tempted to manipulate.
You’ve never shot before. Your friends at the Last Drop made sure you never had to deal with that part, but you thought it was necessary. You couldn’t bring a knife to a gun fight. Just like minutes ago, you could have been met with a bullet in the middle of your face and wouldn’t even realize it. Perhaps you’ve grown, but you were still fighting the same fights from years ago.
So fucking pathetic.
When Silco said your name, the kindness in his tone pulled you out of your spiral. His hand appeared in your field of vision, his slender fingers were hovering over the gun, almost as if he was asking for permission, but ready to take it from you.
Creak.
Your head turned so quickly, you almost heard it snap. Your eyes found a shadow in the distance, the shape of a man that you knew was another enforcer, and whatever the two of you were planning was long gone. With the gun in hand, you and Silco ran to the room where you had been hiding before. Back to the sticky beer and spiderwebs, in silent and messy gestures, you hid in one of the rooms. You almost stopped in your tracks. You could see the spores dancing around, the faint smell of mold in the air, the dim light of day through the plank-blocked window. No seconds wasted, Silco pulled you in somewhere, that somewhere being an old, musty closet.
In the dark, your eyes got used to it, and Gods, you didn’t really expect to be so close to him...
You were not even one step away from Silco; you could almost see the teal of those eyes looking outside the closet, becoming sharp at the muffled words he heard outside the apartment.
“Do you trust me?” His voice cut through the silence, his eyes struck you with severity. You nodded instantly. “Don’t do anything.”
And it felt like a spell, one you couldn’t break.
How? You didn’t have a damn clue. You didn’t even dare to move an inch; the distance between you and Silco was dramatically calculated by your self-awareness. You tried to ignore it, but you could still feel the tip of your fingers tingle energetically, your face burn feverishly, and your stomach feel faint just looking at him. His sharp profile was slightly covered by the scarf. Cheap wine, and seafoam… You remember when it used to be plum around the eye, a painful shade you wished to never see again.
Your train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a heavy set of boots walking around the apartment cautiously. It didn’t take them long to enter the room you were in, and you stopped breathing, the traces of sun disappearing by the minute, the moon ready to lead the way. You heard them muttering, the mask muffling their comments. You could see Silco’s eyes locked on the enforcer, and for a moment, a very small one, you thought you saw uncertainty. You couldn’t blame him. There was a high probability you would be found, but with that enforcer’s gun, you still had a chance.
So you lifted it, slightly enough to catch Silco’s attention.
You felt his grip around your wrist instantly, and he shook his head, warning you.
Don’t, you almost heard him saying, but instead, you hear, “I don’t get paid enough for this shit…” from the enforcer themselves, and your face betrays your disbelief in Piltover’s authority. You don’t even dare to leave the closet after they leave the room, not even after the building is creaking heavily underneath their step, as they’re carrying the weight equivalent of a sack of potatoes with them… That was it? Did they really leave? You asked yourself since you and Silco haven’t stepped out of the closet.
It has gotten pretty dark in the room; you can’t even see him anymore, and maybe you should be a little bit grateful. However, your nerves don’t let you think straight.
“You’re still there… right?”
“I am,” Silco responds, his voice low enough to be unnoticed. “Why can’t you trust me?”
The question shakes you, since you can hear the indignation in it.
“I do,” the words leave your lips as fast as possible, but you know he is not buying it. Even in the dark, you can sense Silco’s annoyance rising through the air, so dense you might not even be breathing properly. After all those years, your body always suffered from the same curse, the one you feared to say out loud, so you hid it from him and yourself. There were a lot of things you couldn’t give away, and one of them was the friendship you held so dearly.
“You don’t even know how to use a gun. You could have shot yourself instead.”
“I’m not that stupid-”
“I never said you were-”
“Who shoots themselves by accident? An idiot!”
“Can you at least listen to me-”
But you don’t, because you leave him alone in the closet. Not like he stays in there either. The moonlight passes through the planks, barely illuminating the room you’re in; you don’t want to turn around, but end up doing so when you can’t hold your thoughts anymore.
“Silco, I want to prove to you I am capable,” you spill, but it’s not everything your heart fears. Of course it isn’t. “You always take the hit for me, it’s embarrassing—I mean, I get it, you want to protect me, but to think you could be sent to Stillwater in the process? No, fuck no, I could never let that happen… I understand that’s a risk, for me, Vander, Fel, anyone, but not you. You’re the reason why we’re doing this, to see the Nation of Zaun be born one day. Without you… it’s…”
You don’t continue, as the enforcer’s words appear in your head without an invitation, and before you get to spiral again in your own pool of miserable thoughts, you feel his arms holding you, your face meeting his chest; nose buried in his clothes, teary eyes hiding from him. You really were unfortunate, weren’t you? Your hands grasp his jacket’s fabric, as you hold onto your little dignity to not cry in front of him.
“I cannot lose you…” And there it goes, the fear of losing the person you care about the most is confessed in a sentence that doesn’t even get to unravel all of your feelings.
Your hoodie falls over your shoulders when his fingers are brushing your hair, delicately, patiently, in a way you wish to stay forever.
“I can’t lose you, too,” he murmurs, followed by your name, but your brain is playing dirty tricks, and you muffled a cry that proves your pain is deeper than it seems. “Don’t cry.”
“How could I not? You’re so dear to me, and it’s like you can’t see it.”
“See what?”
Doubt fills your heart.
“I know I can count on you… You’re my friend, but…” Your heartbeat is faster than you expect, and you feel your mouth getting drier by the second—fuck, fuck, fuck. C’mon, you can do it. Just do it! “But…”
At your desperate attempt (and tragic failure) to confess your feelings, Silco slightly separates from you, and he holds your face with both of his hands, a position you don’t expect at all, but it brings warmth to your heart.
“You know you can trust me.”
This time, you nod slowly. Not because you’re unsure, or because you fear he won’t believe you, but because you truly trust him. And so, a question flies through your head: was there really a place for your insecurities to control what you could say and what not? You look into his eyes, teal shining bright for you, and you know it’s the right time.
“Silco, I love you so much.”
A smile appeared on his lips, so charmingly stupid that you almost looked away; however, you held his gaze because you craved it. His thumb caresses your cheek, and you close your eyes, not wanting the moment to ever end. Even in the darkness of a musty room, you feel lighter than a feather. The tingles in your fingers, the drum of your heart, and the weakness of your stomach don’t feel so bad anymore, not when he leans towards you, and his lips touch yours with such tenderness, you almost don’t think it’s real, but the dull sound of the gun falling out of your hand to the floor lets you know it is. Your fingers traveled all the way up to the nape of his neck, holding him dearly as you returned his kiss.
The seconds go by, and when you separate, he merely stares at you. You can’t read his mind, but at least you know (or you hope) you’re a good kisser by the way he smiles.
“I did not think this would happen today... Gods, you’re so stubborn,” he chuckles, shaking his head lightly. “I guess it didn’t matter as long as I could have you by my side—good news for you... I have always loved you, just didn’t care to hide it as you do.”
“Why didn’t you say anything? After all these years...”
To your question, he simply shrugged. “I wanted to give you some space.”
This time, you chuckle at his answer. Not only do you do that, but you laugh at him. “Always protecting me, even in an unconventional way.”
“I declare myself guilty.” Silco’s hands stopped cradling your cheeks and were placed on top of your hips. You felt a rush of electricity travel through your spine. “We should go back. Vander and Benzo are probably back at the Drop with our bags.”
“Yeah, yeah...” You agreed—even though you didn’t really want to go—, your brows frowning. “Are we, mm, telling them about what happened?”
“Do you want to?”
“Somehow we gotta explain this,” separating from him, you had to bend down to grab your new weapon from the floor. A smile appeared on your lips as soon as you held it, “Think of it as my souvenir.”
“That,” Silco’s face reflected hesitancy, charcoal hair falling down his face as he tilted his head in rejection, “is not a good idea.”
“I said a souvenir,” you remarked, glancing at the metal in your hands. You’ll probably keep it hidden in a toolbox under your bed, use it to practice your shot in your free time, and when you run out of bullets, then keep it as a nice token... Your eyes met Silco’s, the teal of his eyes glimmering as if they were reading you like an open book. “Oh, c’mon, don’t you trust me?” Your question came out... a little bit playful, but nothing that he couldn’t handle.
His hand came to meet yours—the one that wasn’t holding anything—, fingers interlocking confidently. A smirk didn’t take long to appear on his lips, “Of course I do.”
Oh, Janna... This man would be the end of you, that’s for sure. There was no way back. You didn’t ruin your friendship like you feared for years, but transformed it into something you both could cherish. You always felt like you could lean on Silco’s shoulders, and now you were positive he had always leaned on yours.
So silly to see the truth in front of you.