#last drop

Did you get something to drink? I hope so, because it's really packed in here. So, where did we leave off? We were supposed to enter the office, right? Well, sisters, and bros, and non-binary hoes, welcome!

Let's start from the left; I know it's a bit chaotic, but this is where Sevika used to come to drink even when Silco wasn't around, waiting for him faithfully. All those bottles are hers. The rug is from Piltover, you've probably recognized it, along with the iconic Last Drop glasses. That sturdy piece of furniture you see there, closer to his desk, is his safe. No one has the code except for him, me, and now you (it's 937). Since we're here, I might as well open it.

Face down, there's a photo depicting Vander, Silco, and Felicia on the bridge when they were younger—certainly well before Felicia got pregnant, given the length of Silco's hair. That strange map is a map of the mine tunnels, a relic from his past as a miner. And finally, the LP is "Our Love," ironically Vander's favorite song (as Jinx mentions in Jinx Fixes Everything), as well as Felicia's, Silco's, and Jinx's. It's in the safe because Silco treasures that vinyl so much that he doesn't leave it where it could get destroyed; he keeps it protected.

But let's close it up and move on. Here it is, the iconic desk. Since I'm a generous guide, I'll let you circle around it so you can see it from every angle. On top, there's the map of Piltover with the mug that Jinx made for him, while in the drawer, there's a mask to filter out the gray, the smog of Zaun, and a card that I think was used for blackmail. I can't say for sure, but it seems to be part of the man's shady dealings.

Next to his desk, on the right, there are two doors. They're not accessible, but since I doubt he'd want anyone to have such direct access to his office, in my fanfiction at least, there will be a room behind them with a double bed and some of his belongings.

But let's move on to the last piece! The huge map of Piltover and zaun with which he planned the export of Shimmer and weapons, where he kept track of everything that happened.

"Again?" The bartender raised an eyebrow with a warm laugh. "You’re going to sink my business, Sil."

"You’re the one who promised I’d never pay for a drink once you opened your own bar, Vander. Keeping your promises includes accepting the consequences." Silco didn’t look up, and his hand didn’t stop writing, but there was playfulness in his voice.

Vander let a low humming chuckle pass his lips. He carefully chose a clean cup and filled it.

"Still don’t get how you outdrink me." He smiled.

"Blame the workhouse orphanage," Silco replied dryly. "They thought gin would help us sleep faster."

He reached for the glass, and as his fingers brushed Vander’s, he finally looked up. Something passed between them – quiet, intimate. A conversation held entirely in a glance.

Still silently standing close to the entrance, Viktor couldn’t keep himself from watching how they looked at each other. He had only saw them together for a few seconds but it was obvious. Every touch, every gaze was a testimony of trust and complicity. The rumors were true, these two were more than friends… but they were also more than lovers. There were something rarer, intertwined between parťáci and lásky.

For a fleeting moment, Viktor wondered how that might feel to trust someone like that, to be understood without speaking… Not everyone got that chance.

Vander brushed hair from his face.

"…my hair’s getting in the way again."

"Cut it, then," Silco said, going back to his notebook.

"Myself? I’d make a mess. Maybe I should ask Fel."

Silco snorted.

“ Please. Have you seen what she did to her poor kid? And another on the way, pray to Janna she spares that one’s hair.” A grin curled at his lips. "I’d much rather handle your hair myself."

Vander raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Didn’t know you cut hair."

"I can do many things," Silco said with a low, flirtatious edge. "But if I were you, I’d keep it long. It suits you."

Vander chuckled, leaning on the counter. His voice dropped to match the tone. His large hand softly brushed Silco's slender fingers.

"I think long hair suits you better."

"You sure like to pull it," Silco purred with a mischevious grin.

A bolt of embarrassment flared through Viktor, and his face flushed bright red. Now was definitely not the right moment to ask for anything. He’d better leave, at least for now. Give these two… privacy.

He turned to leave, hoping to slip out unnoticed. But a traitorous floorboard creaked under his foot.

The silence never sounded so loud. He could feel the weight of their gaze on his back.

“You lost, kid?”

Viktor froze as he heard the voice of the bartender. He turned around slowly - the two men at the bar were looking at him. They didn’t seem annoyed to have been interrupted. More curious, perhaps, about what a crippled teenager, barely old enough to order his first drink, was doing in their bar in the middle of the afternoon with a stack of papers in hand. Which, Viktor had to admit, was a perfectly legitimate question.

He opened his mouth to answer, but the words died in his throat.

“I… I… eh…”

The two men exchanged a glance, and Viktor’s blush deepened with embarrassment. This was definitely not part of any of the carefully-rehearsed scenarios he had played out in his mind before entering the bar… or the night before… or the night before that.

His brain was urging him to leave, to pass that door and never come back. But if he ran away now, it would be even more embarrassing to come back later. And he needed these papers signed. His entire future depended on it.

He took a deep breath, tightened his grip on his cane, and forced his legs to carry him forward. Each step toward the bar made the two men seem even taller and more intimidating. Their gazes weighed on him like lead, but Viktor kept his head up, doing his best to hide the anxious shaking in his limbs.

“I don’t take applications, if that’s what you’re here for, lad,” Vander said with a gentle, teasing smile - an attempt to make him more comfortable. But Viktor was just too nervous for this to make a difference.

“No, I… that’s not what I’m here for…” Viktor stammered as he reached the counter.

He could feel Silco’s piercing gaze sweeping over him. That aura… it was overwhelming. Silco was already intimidating when Viktor had listened to him from the safety of a crowd. Up close, the pressure was nearly suffocating. His deep, intelligent green eyes, his precise, fluid gestures, that sharp, composed face… they stirred something deep inside Viktor. He understood now what Dorotha had meant when she spoke of Silco’s "magnetic presence."

Viktor inhaled shakily and forced himself to meet that intense gaze.

“I… I heard you in the streets. Talking about revolution. You said the sons and daughters of Zaun deserve more than the runoff…” He swallowed, trying to steady his voice. “That’s what I want. I want more than what the Piltover Mining Company offers us. I… I want to study at the Piltover Academy.”

His eyes dropped to the papers clutched in his hand, bracing for the ridicule and mockery that usually followed such declarations.

But only silence answered him.

Silco’s expression remained unreadable. Surprised, but unimpressed.

“Is that so?” he asked, his tone neutral as he glanced at the papers Viktor held like a lifeline.

He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Piltover Academy… that’s quite the ambition. I don’t think they’ve ever let any of us in,” he said, setting down his pencil and closing his notebook. “What makes you think things will be different for you? Because you’ll ask nicely?”

“Sil…” Vander protested, probably about to say something like “it’s just a kid”.

But Silco silenced him with a sharp click of his tongue.

His eyes turned sharp. Almost inquisitive.

Viktor was being tested.

Fair enough. He didn’t expect to be trusted on his word. He was used to doubt, even from his own mother. But if ever there was a day he needed to be convincing, it was today. That didn’t make it any less terrifying.

Drawing strength from the fire burning in his chest, Viktor steadied himself.

“Of course not,” he said, lifting his head to meet Silco’s eyes.

He set the stack of papers on the counter and quickly extracted his school records: evidence of his academic excellence.

“I’m good. Really good. I’ve been working extra hard for years. I’m consistently top of my class, and I’ve already been accepted into the Secondary Cycle. I’m preparing for the Academy’s entrance exam. In three years, if I score high enough, they’ll have no choice but to let me in. And yes, I know I need money. That’s why I’ve been working two jobs: I assist a doctor with his experiments, and I repair broken furniture at Benzo’s pawn shop.”

The name of Benzo seemed ring a bell to Vander. His eyes widen in surprise, and in recognition.

“Wait, you’re the kid working for Benzo? The one with the limp whose mother works at the Red Lantern?” he said, eyebrows raised. “Damn, Sil. This kid’s not lying. Benzo never praises anyone, but he’s been bragging about his new hire – said the boy works his ass off and makes magic with machines. Who knows? Maybe the kid’s got a shot.”

Vander's words echoed endlessly in Viktor's mind. Never before did anyone say it out loud that he maybe got a chance, at least not while meaning it. A smile bloomed on his face, just as hope spread in his chest.

But the fight wasn’t over.

Silco remained silent, leafing through Viktor’s documents with methodical precision, until he fell on the Secondary Cycle acceptance. His finger stopped on the missing signature in the blank space labelled “Piltover Mining Company Employee”.

“Hm… I see. So you’re not here for money, or a job, or to join our cause. You’re here for a signature.”

Vander blinked.

“Why not just forge it?”

“To be fair, that’s plan B,” Viktor admitted. “But that’s risky. If I spend three years working to earn that diploma, I don’t want to get expelled because someone finds out the signature’s fake.”

Silco continued scanning the documents, his expression unreadable.

“Well, I must say, this is an impressive record,” he finally said. “But that still doesn’t explain why you came to me. Of all the miners in the Lanes, why me? Because of what I said in the streets? If you were really listening, you’d know I’m not interested in feeding Piltover more Zaunite talent to exploit.”

Viktor winced but stood his ground.

“I… I don’t know many people. No one in the Company. Most people tell me I should be grateful for what I have. But I want more than Zaun can offer. The Academy has resources: libraries, professors, knowledge that no one here could dream of. I want to be a scientist. I want to make the world better for everyone, especially for Zaun: to invent filters to clean the air and purify the water, tools to make the work easier and safer, prosthetics for the injured... But to do that, I need an education that schools in Zaun can’t provide. The best I could hope for here is to become some Piltie engineer’s assistant.” Viktor’s nose wrinkled in frustration and disgust. The fire in his chest burned hot. “I will not spend my life as some Piltie’s assistant just because I was born here.”

The silence following his words was still heavy with hope and defiance. All his cards were laid on the table. If that wasn’t enough, he wasn’t above begging… even though he doubted it would get any other result that just hurting his pride.

Silco observed him in silence. Viktor held his gaze for what seemed an eternity, waiting – praying – for an answer. It felt like all the Last Drop itself was holding its breath.

Finally, Silco’s lips curled into a smirk. His eyes softened, and he chuckled.

“So you’ve pinned all your hopes and dreams on the name of the miner most likely to get fired in the entire Company?”

Viktor opened his mouth, then closed it. That was… fair.

“My name isn’t the safest,” Silco admitted. “But Vander and I know someone better.”

“Yeah… we should ask Fel,” Vander added with a grin. "She can't cut hair, but she can hold a pen."

A thrill ran through Viktor spine. It felt like air had left his lungs. He couldn't believe it... he didn't dare to...

“So… you’re going to do it? You’ll sign?”

“You’ve got ambition, I’ll give you that,” Silco said. “I still don’t think you’ll make it. But who knows? All mountains seem impassable until someone climbs them. A Zaunite gaining access to Piltover’s hoarded knowledge… that might just change a thing or two.”

A radiant smile spread across Viktor’s face. He did it! He really did it! He was going to the Secondary Cycle, the final step before the Academy!

But then, a shadow passed through Silco’s eyes. His tone shifted, more serious.

“However” he warned. “Even if you make your way up there, don’t expect them to ever treat you fairly. You’ll still have to fight for everything, even just getting credit for your own work. They will use their favorite weapons to block your path: authorizations, hierarchy, bureaucracy and all that type of bullshit, just like that signature you need today. If you manage to become what you aim for, let me give you a little piece of advice.”

Silco leaned to Viktor, and whispered something to his ear.

“When you’re about to change the world, don’t ask for permission.”

Thank you for reading ! ❤️