🍆Bad&sad-reylo-art🍆

Your chest heaved with each breath, your body having grown used to far less physical exertion. You walked in tempo with your partner, someone you’d previously only seen during meetings. You were grateful for Vander at least not pairing you up with Silco. You didn't think you could handle it if he had.

Silco and you had been a duo for a while; each other’s go-to during missions, you’d simply worked so well together that it was fruitless to pair either of you with anyone else. The two of you were effortlessly efficient together, the perfect dream team.

Maybe that's why you found yourself more battered with your new partner than you had ever been with Silco. The limp in your gait and the throbbing at your temple spoke loudly enough to attest to that. A sudden pang of regret struck you. You hadn't realized how deep he’d burrowed himself into your heart; hell, he’d even worked his way into your work life.

Walking into the Last Drop, you rolled your shoulder with a slight wince. The bar was teeming with people, each group having been spread across the second parallel, the one that separated Zaun from Piltover.

You found yourself unconsciously sweeping the crowd looking for Silco, but your search was in vain. You settled yourself into the nearest chair, groaning as you relaxed into it. Your partner stood awkwardly near you; he wasn't as injured as you had been. It was safe to say you took the brunt of the anguish.

“Do you want me to get you something?” he asked, hovering slightly, his arms resting awkwardly at his sides.

“Ice,” you said, rubbing your temple. “And a first aid kit.”

He was quick with the errand, coming back almost instantaneously. You gladly accepted the ice, pressing the towel which held it to your bruising eye. Your movement scraped your back against the chair, causing you to inhale sharply. You hadn't noticed a wound on your back. You turned awkwardly, your eyes too far away to see your back.

You blindly patted around your back, trying to find the injury. Your fingers finally found a slash in your shirt around the middle of your back. You reached inside, uncaring of the ripping noise which coincided with your hand’s further descent inside. You had long decided that the shirt was a goner, considering the blood you had coughed up onto it and now the apparent slash in the back.

You felt another hand on your back and your head snapped back around to look at your partner, who looked awkward enough just standing there.

“I could clean it and apply something topical,” he offered. “You can't really see your own back and from the looks of it, it's a dirty cut. We should probably treat it before it gets infected.”

“Fuck,” you swore. You had had tetanus before, and it was no picnic. You’d been bedridden for several weeks and had to work for months to regain your strength.

Silco had made fun of you when you were regaining your muscle, calling you a shrimp. You remembered socking him in the arm hard enough to make him stumble. It had been enough to get him to shut up.

You wiped your mind clean of him and nodded to your partner. “Yeah, it’d be nice if you could clean it for me.” He nodded, taking off to get supplies. While he was gone, you turned the chair around, sitting so your front rested against the back of the chair.

Once he arrived back with a bucket of water and gentle soap, you untucked your shirt, lifting it up enough to reveal the wound. He gently dabbed over the gash with a towel and you sucked in a breath before biting down on your lip to muffle any other sounds.

You looked over tentatively, only seeing the dark hair on his head. You craned your neck farther, arching your back as you went. You groaned slightly in pain as you felt something inside the wound shift.

“There's something inside- ah!” He began rubbing harder at the wound and you flinched away to stop him.

“You’ll have to get tweezers and pull it out.” You said, reeling from the feeling of a foreign object rubbing inside your back.

“Got it,” he murmured apologetically.

You relaxed back ever so slightly, turning your gaze to the ceiling. You even loosened your grip on the chair, revealing half-moon shaped grooves in the wood from your nails. You took a deep breath as you felt the tweezers inside. They pinched skin and you yelped, trying desperately to keep yourself still while your body screamed to move away from the object causing you pain.

“Sorry!” he said, withdrawing the tweezers from you. He placed a hand on your shoulder and you turned once more, almost nose to nose with the boy.

It hadn’t been an intimate gesture; the blush blooming across the boy’s cheeks confirmed that much.

“It's okay,” you replied, shifting away. Movement at the door captured your attention and you found yourself staring directly into Silco’s familiar blue eyes.

He was clutching a bloodied rag to his forearm, his mouth ever so slightly parted. His eyes flickered from your eyes to the hand on your shoulder, then to your pulled up shirt, then to the boy.

Something in his posture stiffened as he walked in, taking a wide berth around the two of you, his discomfort obvious. Following him was his partner, who you immediately recognized.

Vander had seriously partnered Silco up with Benzo? Although the two were great friends, Silco had often expressed his disinterest in being Benzo’s human shield when things got rough.

That's probably why he was walking with a bit of a limp. Your eyes followed him as he retrieved a first aid kid and sat down just beyond your line of sight . Benzo followed him, most likely to help tend to his wounds considering he had no visible ones.

The boy at your back had returned to your gash, removing the pieces of whatever was inside more carefully than he had before. Nevertheless, your eyes never left the booth, not even when you felt the cooling sensation of the salve being applied.

“Do you need anything?” you asked the boy, pulling your shirt back down.

He shook his head. “You took the brunt of the damage,” he explained. You nodded, putting the first aid kit back together.

“I'll take this back. You can go after you check in with Vander.” You picked up the first aid kit and headed to the back, passing Benzo and Silco’s booth on your way. Silco’s head was pressed into his other arm as Benzo held the injured one, a needle barely visible between his forefinger and thumb.

You were almost to the back when you heard your name. You turned around, looking around to see who had called for you. Your eyes met Benzo’s, a sheepish look across his face, the needle in the middle of Silco’s forearm.

“You're better with sutures,” Benzo said. “Why don't you take over?” Silco had looked up the moment your name was called, his gritted teeth glaringly obvious. Benzo had never been the best at making the process painless.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” you said lamely. “Just let me put this away.” You gestured to the first aid kit and Benzo nodded. Silco steadily avoided eye contact. You would've been grateful for the lack of contact in any other situation, but you found yourself slighted.

Hesitating, you slowly walked to the back, taking a moment to yourself once you were behind the wooden door. You leaned against the wall, your eyes on the ceiling, which sported an abundance of water stains. You closed your eyes, taking in a shallow breath of air.

You hated it. You hated every moment you spent with him, not to mention the excruciating pain it brought you from not being able to tell him how you felt, lest he reject you and make things worse than it already was. It was better to suffer in silence. It was easier this way. That way Vander wouldn't have to pick sides. You knew whose side he’d pick anyway.

You hadn't spoken to either of them about the incident, despite what you told Silco. You had pushed it down, hoping suffocation would be enough to make the pain - the feelings - go away.

It was odd, the pull you still felt to be near him that went hand in hand with the agony your feelings inflicted upon you. Either way you lost; pain from being around him, and pain from not.

Taking in one last breath, you pushed through the door. Benzo had discarded the needle, the thread connecting it to his wound laying abandoned on the table. He instead held a washcloth to Silco’s arm, talking in a low voice.

The whole tableau was more than odd. Benzo was typically the lighthearted jokester, often having to be talked down by Vander or Silco. You’d never seen him this serious and approached tentatively, giving the two enough time to wrap up their conversation.

However, they were so absorbed in their discussion that they hadn't heard you approach, Benzo even jumped as he finally spotted you out of the corner of his eye.

“Janna!” he yelped. “You scared the living daylights out of me.”

“Maybe you should pay attention to your surroundings.” you said, gesturing for him to slide out of the booth. He slid out, not wordlessly, grumbling something about “ninja-like behavior,” and “we ought to put you on scout duty.”

Silco, on the other hand, was silent, only nodding to you as you picked up the needle. You took the hint, slipping into the booth.

“I assumed you prepped it; have you numbed it?” you asked, observing the messy sutures Benzo had stitched. They would hold up, but it would scar badly.

“I don't need to.”

“Do you want me to redo these stitches? It'll scar really badly if I leave it as is.” Your voice was practically breathless, and you nearly kicked yourself for allowing such a sound to slip out.

Silco shook his head, but changed his mind quickly.“Actually yeah, I'd like that.”

You cut the remaining thread and began pulling out the stitches, your hands surprisingly steady compared to your voice.

“What? Do battle scars not win over the ladies anymore?” you teased, desperately hoping that banter would distract him from your earlier breathlessness.

Silco winced as you pulled out the knot, the thread slick with blood. He chucked to cover it, a mannerism you had picked up on after stitching him up a couple times.

“Not the one that I want.” You had just threaded the needle and, at those words, you felt you prick yourself.

“Ah.” You brought your finger up to your mouth, sucking away the drop of blood that had welled up. You brought your hand back down and wiped the saliva on your pants before returning to tend to Silco, trying to ignore the lump forming in your throat. “The girl from before’s hard to court?”

“Mmm,” Silco hummed, drumming the fingers of his free hand on the table. “Not particularly.”

“Oh?” You pulled the needle through his skin with nimble fingers, making sure not to prick yourself again. “I thought she was.”

“I may have been bluffing.” He raised a playful eyebrow at you, which you returned with a deadpan stare.

“Ha, ha,” you said, returning to his arm. “So who would this lucky girl be?” you asked, hoping you sounded nonchalant enough to cover the yearning in your heart.

“I think we both know who that would be,” Silco gave you a pointed look.

“Vander, I presume?” you asked, hoping he couldn't hear the thudding in your chest.

Silco choked out a laugh, the motion pulling the thread taut. “Of course, he’s the fairest maiden I've ever laid eyes on.” He leaned back ever so slightly, being sure to keep his arm within your reach. “But, honestly.” The change in his tone prompted you to look up, and you noticed he was wearing a semi-serious expression.

“Stop teasing.” You poked him suddenly, drawing out a hiss, but you didn't apologize. You were almost done dealing with his wound, your evenly spaced stitches keeping his now reddening skin together.

“Why not?” Silco leaned forward, so close that your noses nearly brushed. You tried to lean back, but he grabbed you with his other hand, keeping you in place. “I missed teasing my favorite girl.” Silco’s breath was hot against your cheek, his words a whisper in your ear.

You jerked out of his grasp, dropping the needle. “I'm serious.” Your mouth was dry, the words like sand in your mouth. “I can't focus when you get in my personal space.” You tried to cover your slipup with an excuse, but even you could tell how lame it was.

Silco frowned. “You’ve been able to before,” he said, dropping his voice. “You've even been able to perform in even closer quarters.” It felt like all of your hair was standing on end, and when he grabbed your hand, you could almost hear electricity crackle at the touch. Silco leaned in again, his mouth meeting your ear. “I'd like it very much,” he said, pulling your hand forward as you swallowed hard. “If you finished stitching me up.” He curled your hand around the needle before sitting back down, a smile working its way to his lips.

That was the last straw. You knew that smile.That was the smile he gave to the enforcers after he managed to talk his way out of an arrest. The smile he gave to girls he was trying to pick up in the bar. The smile that said, “I know how to work you. I'm the one who’s in control.”

“Forget it.” You dropped the needle, your heart in the pit of your stomach.

By Janna, you’d been idiotic to think you were different. To think that his jokes with you were friendly, or even romantic. He viewed you the same way he viewed everything. You were just a game he could play. There was no use trying to see if he reciprocated your feelings when he was such an asshole that he only saw you as something to use. Something to use, or something to own.

“Have someone else finish you off,” you spat. Silco opened his mouth, but you cut him off. “You've never had trouble with it before.”

Taglist

The first time you saw him, you thought he was striking. What had drawn your gaze to Silco in the first place was how small he was in comparison to his counterparts. A scrappy thing, you could tell he had earned his rank from his self-assured demeanor.

When he first opened his mouth to speak, you were awed by his ability to capture a crowd’s attention. It was as though the world itself held its breath when he spoke.

You had never worked up the urge to talk to him, instead opting to befriend the other two co-founders, Vander and Benzo. They were a swell bunch of men, accepting you with open arms. By the time Silco made his way over to you, you had finally downed enough liquor to make a lasting impression.

“You're Silco,” you said, your eyes slightly hazy from the alcohol mixing with the dim lighting of The Drop.

“That I am.” He appeared slightly amused, settling next to Vander in the booth, rolling up his sleeves as he placed his glass on the table. “And you might be?”

You gave your name to him, watching him nod thoughtfully and take a sip of the amber liquid in his glass.

“She thinks you're quite the looker,” Benzo’s arm was draped across the back of your booth, but you had leaned so far forward you hadn't noticed.

“Is that so?” Silco’s eyes flicked to you. Perfect, seafoam-blue eyes. Not that the harbor was ever that shade of blue.

“Oh don't get it muddled up.” You waved a hand earnestly. “I'm more into personality anyway.” At that, Vander and Benzo barked a laugh.

“You hear that, Sil?” Vander jeered playfully. “Your not-so spotless reputation precedes you.”

“So it seems,” he mused, swirling his cup in thought. “It's good to know that I won't have another girl falling at my feet.”

Oh, how wrong he turned out to be.

As you had said, you preferred personality in your partners, and Silco had plenty. You got to know the man through grueling hours of training and evenings spent drinking at the bar. There was something to be said about going on missions with him, however, as you found yourself looking forward to spending time in close quarters with the man you had so relentlessly teased.

“Shh,” you whispered to the man sitting at your feet, back pressed to the ledge you were looking over. The roof offered a lovely view of the factory the two of you were about to raid to replenish your dwindling supplies.

“I didn't say anything,” he drawled, tracing your boot with a fingertip. You resisted the urge to kick him.

“Yeah, right,” you huffed. “And Benzo didn't drink himself stupid last night.”

“Lighten up,” he said. “You don't have to be so uptight all the time.”

“I'm not,” you said, keeping your eyes trained on the enforcers below you. “You're just simply so insufferable that I'm always wound up.”

“I know a way to help you unwind.” You turned your head slowly to look down your nose at him. In turn, he only smiled cheekily at you.

“I would rather do Vander’s laundry for a month.” you said, deadpan, before returning to your observation.

“Ouch,” he said, and you could see him grab his chest in mock hurt from the corner of your eye.

“Well, it's not like you have much to offer.” you replied, an easy smile working its way onto your face.

As one might assume, you didn't know Silco all that well. The two of you spent your alone time bantering, trading insults like topsiders traded stocks. The only times the two of you spoke candidly was when one or both were blackout drunk.

“Do you ever wish you were born a topsider?” you slurred, head resting on the barside counter. You had just come from a mission and your current objective was to drink and forget about as much as possible.

“And be like their pretentious asses? Never.” he replied, an ice pack pressed to his cheek where a bruise was beginning to bloom.

“But the food,” you moaned, and if Silco hadn’t been as absolutely sloshed as you were, you knew he would've made a snide comment. “I'd trade the ability to not have to worry about rent for anything, even if it meant colluding with nepos.”

“You'd trade everything you had here for stability?”

You turned your head to look at Silco. “It’d be a lie if I said I wouldn't,” you replied.

“Even visits to Jericho’s stall?” he inquired. You were silent.

“You got me there.”

When Vander first found out that you liked Silco, he had been appalled.

“Silco? You like Silco?” he asked, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “You like the skinny rat boy that looks like he's one cigarette away from death?” You nodded, chewing your lip anxiously. “You like the guy that broke his cue when he lost against the new recruit?”

“To be fair, he was drunk,” you interjected.

Vander shook his head as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing. “You like the guy that doesn't eat anything with dairy in it because it hurts his tummy?” Vander rubbed his stomach to make a point. “You like the guy who gets absolutely no bitches and-”

“Yes,” you said, having grown tired of affirming the thing that Vander had so clearly known and was only drawing out to make fun of you.

“Why?” Vander asked, setting his arms on the table in front of you and giving you his full attention. “What caused you to fall for our beloved Silco?”

“I- I can't really explain it,” you said, rubbing the back of your neck. “I guess I like talking to him? Like not just making fun of each other, like I enjoy just talking about… anything. Even if it's something boring about finances or one of his rants about topside, I could just listen to him talk for hours. I guess I also like the way that I am with him. I'm more confident, witty. I don't make myself small or pretend I'm someone I'm not. With him I'm… real.”

Vander was silent for a second. “Maybe it's like Stockholm Syndrome. I think you've spent too much time with him that you've deluded yourself into thinking that you like him. That's it, that's gotta be it.”

Maybe Vander wasn't trying to make fun of you but digest this information in his own way. It was fair, you hadn't even known that you'd grow to like Silco.

“I don't think so,” you leaned back, propping your legs on the seat across from you. “I've had a lot of time to think about this… predicament.”

“How long?” Vander asked suspiciously.

“Do you remember the raid we had on the warehouse on the south side of the river?”

“Jesus Christ,” Vander swore, throwing his arms in the air. “That was nearly a month ago! You're telling me you've gone this long without telling him?”

“Well I mean I spent the majority of the time wondering if it was even real. I mean look at him. Who falls for the kind of guy like that?” You gestured to the man leaning over the pool table, absorbed in focus as he positioned his cue against the ball.

“You, apparently,” Vander said, finally taking a seat next to you. “So what are you gonna do about it?”

“I don't know,” you said. “I don't think I'll say anything, honestly.”

Vander bolted up, his back ramrod straight. “You're not gonna do anything? You're gonna suffer in silence?”

You shrugged absently. “At least until it goes away.”

Vander shook his head in disbelief. “We can't have that. At least try and see if he reciprocates.”

“You can do that,” you shot back. “You're closer to him than I am. Just ask him if he likes someone or something.”

“No, he’ll see right through it,” Vander stroked his beard in thought. “I can ask him in another way if you'd be open to it.”

You eyed him suspiciously, noting the glint in his eye. “It depends what it is.”

Vander smiled back at you, teeth in full view. “You'll see soon enough.”

Vander hadn't said anything about it since then, at least not for a while. Occasionally he would give you cheeky grins when you stood a little too close to Silco, or when he’d drop his chin to murmur something amusing in your ear. You’d give him a pointed look, and he'd look away innocently as if he’d done nothing wrong.

It wasn't until one night that he brought it up in a sneaky way. The bar was in full swing from the successful mission the lot of you had accomplished. The four of you were crammed into a booth, Silco on your right, arm thrown around the back of your shared banquette, Vander and Benzo across from you, each of you nursing a beer.

“Hey Sil,” Vander slurred, bordering on fully drunk. “I have a dare for you.”

“And what would that be?” Silco asked, slightly amused as he traced a finger along the edge of his water glass.

“I dare you,” Vander pointed a finger at him. “To kiss the prettiest girl here tonight.” At that, your eyes shot up from where you had been watching Benzo peel the label off his bottle. You glared hard at Vander, hoping he would take the hint, but to no avail.

“And what would I get out of it?” Silco leaned back into the booth, arms folding in front of him. You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding. Silco wasn't one to go about doing reckless things without a reason; and hopefully Vander was too out of it to give a logical reason.

“A kiss from the prettiest girl.” Vander said, fluttering his lashes at Silco, who laughed in turn.

“Fancy yourself getting a kiss from Sil tonight?” Benzo elbowed Vander in the side, causing him to throw a glare at the heavy set man.

“The only kiss I'll be getting from him is when he kisses my ass hoping for another mission.” Vander shot back, although it was laced with no real malice.

“Alright, settle down,” Silco laughed. “I'll do it.” He turned in his seat, vest rising ever so slightly. He looked around the room, observing the people standing around. Someone had clearly caught his eye from the way he began to stand. You felt your heart leap into your throat.

Vander’s brows furrowed. He was sober enough to know that Silco had gotten up and you had stayed where you were. Silco took a swig from his beer and winked at him.

“Wish me luck,” he said as he sauntered towards the entrance. You felt your heart twinge ever so slightly. Vander turned to you, panic in his eyes.

You couldn't look away from the scene unfolding in front of you, Silco walking up to a girl standing near the threshold, sipping from a bottle with vigor. She clearly had something to forget tonight.

You hadn't thought she’d been a Child of Zaun. You hadn't seen her at any meetings or missions before, and The Last Drop was still a bar, not a Children of Zaun exclusive, meaning she could be anyone.

The girl laughed at something Silco said and he smiled back, giving her a look at his gleaming, chipped teeth.

The same smile he’d given you, you thought, bittersweet memories pricking in your brain.

You saw him lean down and it felt as if time slowed down. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, thudding so loudly you could hear nothing else, not until he leaned a little further to whisper something in her ear. You felt time speed up, your relief washing over you immediately.

You slumped back in your seat, your back pressed against the wall. You let your boots rise to the seat, as you clutched your knees to your chest in the fetal position. This was a position you had always used to comfort yourself in times of distress, much like now.

You watched the girl giggle again, throwing her head back this time. There was no mistaking it: she was flirting back. If you could, you would’ve turned your head, looked at anything but what was happening in the present. Hell, you would've even looked at Benzo even if he was clipping his toenails, a regretful scene that was burned into your memory after entering into his shared apartment unannounced. Regretfully, you found that you could not look away, your eyes locked on them. A coil grew in the pit of your stomach, knotting itself into your lungs.

You watched her gesture outside, and your heart sank as you saw a smile grow on Silco’s face as he nodded. She grabbed his hand and you found that a lump had grown in your throat as she led him outside.

You finally wrenched your head away from the door, tears shining in your eyes. Vander looked at you with concern, clearly having sobered up the slightest bit. Benzo was oblivious to the tension between the two of you, letting out a huff of a laugh.

“What a dog!” Vander roughly elbowed him in the side causing him to yelp. “What did I do?”

“Take the hint, genius.” Vander grumbled to him, gesturing towards you. You blinked back tears and barked a laugh.

“I don't know what you're talking about,” you said, trying to salvage as much of your dignity as possible. You began to get up, swiping at your eyes. “I actually think I'm going to head out.”

At that moment, Silco slid back in the booth, a smug grin on his face, lipstick smudged onto his lips. You turned your head, sitting back down, trying not to cry as you looked at the wall.

“Well, well, look at that!” He gestured to his face. “Looks like I'm not the only one victorious.” He rested his arm on the edge of the booth, nearly wrapping himself around you. You felt like you were going to be sick. “She actually wanted to take me home, can you believe that?” He laughed lightheartedly, but you couldn't feel any more desolate. “Hey what's with the mood?” Silco looked around as you pointedly looked away from him. “Did something happen when I was gone.”

“Well-” started Vander.

“I was just feeling sick,” you interrupted. “I was about to head home.” Silco glanced down at your bottle.

“You've barely touched your beer. Hey, are you feeling okay?” It was odd, having Silco sound so concerned for you. He always had an easy going demeanor around you and his previous actions were at odds with his current words.

“Yeah.” You choked down the sob that was beginning to rise in your throat like bile. “I'm just going to go rest.” Silco made no attempt to move, trying to catch your eyes which had stubbornly attached themselves to the table. “Excuse me.” You placed your arms on the table, standing up, and when Silco still didn't move, you took a step, hovering over him as you slipped out of the booth.

You headed through the employees only door, grabbing your coat from the hanger. You opened the door again, watching three heads duck back into the booth. You slipped your coat on without a word to them, pushing through The Last Drop’s doors with a shove.