Chapter Text
Thursday, October 14th – Friday, October 15th
On Thursday the clocks run slow, you receive no important text messages (namely, messages from Silco), and you feel like you’re dying a slow death.
On Friday you receive no important messages (again , which you acknowledge with much confusion and disappointment), and nothing interesting happens. Unless you count having a ten minute conversation with your favorite customer, a professor from ZCC. This effectively takes your mind off a certain person for, well...
Ten minutes.
There’s also the appearance of a certain preppy, tiny-dog toting cheer squad girl to break up the monotony. She enthusiastically reminds you that you’d bumped into each other in front of your apartment, and that: “I know you said you weren't hiring, but it would be super dope to work here!”
“Er, thank you… Sarah,” You just manage to spy her name on the rather over-decorated resume in your hand. “I appreciate you coming in.”
“So should I look out for your text?” She asks hopefully.
She doesn’t exactly embody the vibe of the shop, but you don’t want to dash her hopes.
“I’ll be passing this on to my manager, Sevika,” You hedge, “she’ll let you know in the next week or so if she’s interested.”
“Oh!” Her entire person jangles in surprise – on account of the dog collar, leash, keys, giant bedazzled bag, and whatnot. “I thought you were the manager?”
You frown slightly before schooling your features. You didn’t know your becoming manager was common knowledge.
“Not yet, but I will be soon. I’m training right now.”
“Okay, bet! So does that mean you’re gonna like, work directly for Silco now?”
“Yep.”
She leans forward, and whispers conspiratorially, “Is he really as terrifying as everyone says?”
You bite the inside of your cheek as your eyes flit towards the counter in the corner. Your cheeks heat. “Well, no. I don’t think so. I mean I did at first, but not now. I think he’s probably more intimidating, or um…”
Dangerous, sexy, and a really, really good kisser?
“Yeah, absolutely terrifying,” Jefferson chimes in as he slides the girl her drink. “I saw him for the first time in my life on Tuesday…”
This sparks immediate attention, and as Jefferson launches into his own sparkling rendition of the story you excuse yourself to the back room. In the relative privacy of the food prep area you allow yourself to crumble just a fraction. You put your hands on your hips and close your eyes, trying hard to stuff down the swell of feelings, a terrible mix of euphoric memory and anxious expectation of the future.
The man hasn’t had the decency to leave you alone since Tuesday night – in the figurative sense rather than the literal. In the literal sense he’s left you well enough alone, except for when he sent you the address for the show yesterday (and nothing more).
Not that you expected him to add anything else. Or maybe you did. You’d hoped he would, anyway.
That poisonous dagger, hope.
Every minute it seems, something reminds you of him, especially here in the shop. You swear you catch his scent when you walk past the bar, like he’s tattooed himself there permanently in your senses.
Your current struggle is how to balance your obsession with him so you can at least function at the basic level.
Without feeling absolutely miserable.
So far you haven’t come up with any viable ideas.
“Hey, you alright?”
Your eyes fly open to find Amber watching you, her hooded brown eyes narrowed in worry.
You dredge up a smile. “Yeah thanks, I’m good. Just a little tired today.”
Her face relaxes. “Yeah me too. I totally stayed up too late last night. School is really harshing my vibe, and while that may or may not be my fault because I procrastinate, it’s like… I still want to have a life, you know? And since Netflix is my life and readily available at all hours of the day…”
You nod vigorously, and follow her back into the bar area to listen to her chat. Sarah the dog girl has left, and Jefferson now jumps in to join in the conversation with Amber, leaving you free to spare one last, mournful look at the corner counter. You reminisce about Silco’s mouth one last time before releasing a sigh.
By habit more than anything you slip your phone out of your back pocket and check your messages. To your disappointment (but not surprise) you see no messages from him waiting for you. But to your surprise, you do see a message from your mom.
“Hey sweetheart! What are you wearing to Jinx’s show tomorrow night? I don’t want to come underdressed!”
You blink. You can’t remember having invited her, though maybe you mentioned it offhand.
“I didn’t realize you were going!”
Her reply is almost immediate. “Jinx DM’d me on Facebook yesterday and gave me the address. She said she really wanted me to come. Isn’t that so sweet?”
You wonder how on earth Jinx managed to find your mother on Facebook – especially since her profile is professional, and doesn’t include her married name – but after a moment you conclude that it isn’t that shocking at all.
The girl is her father’s daughter.
Ugh.
You text her your clothing plan, which you hadn’t actually considered until this moment.
“Why don’t you drive to my house, and we can carpool the rest of the way together?”
The idea of having your mom with you to face Silco is more than a little comforting. “Okay, sounds good! I’ll probably be at your house by 6.”
You release a frustrated huff when, as soon as you send the text, your phone gives up the ghost and dies.
“Anybody have a charger for an iPhone 8?”
“Sorry. Google phone.”
“And I have a Samsung.”
This launches them into a long, passionate exchange about the benefits of non-Apple products, which helps you not at all except to remind you that once you become the manager and get a raise, you’ll be well within your rights to buy a new phone.
Maybe one that doesn’t die literally every day.
The shift ends, and it’s grocery day, so you head to the store dehydrated and hungry. Unfortunately you don’t have a plan because you forgot to make a list, so your plan becomes an inefficient wander around the store, grabbing things at random off the shelves depending on your mood. An hour later you make it home and immediately plug in your phone. As you start putting away the groceries you realize that you’ve grabbed cucumber instead of zucchini, and an artichoke instead of broccoli.
You and your sister never eat cucumbers or artichokes.
Or zucchini for that matter.
With a sigh you put them in your drawer and take a mental note to bring them to your mom’s tomorrow to see if she wants them.
A swamp of nerves floods your entire body at the thought of the show.
Tomorrow you’ll see him. You feel like you’re going to fly apart, or maybe just fall to pieces.
Every couple of minutes you agonize over whether he regrets kissing you. After all, you were the one who confessed your love, and he never said he felt the same.
He certainly acted like he felt the same.
Or at least, he felt something. How could he kiss anybody the way he kissed you, and not mean it just a little bit? You’ve been tossing and turning over it at night, and add onto that Allie’s confusion that you didn’t talk about the next step in your relationship….
You put your face in your hands.
You’re getting dizzy from all the circles you're running in your head.
He called you his solution. But his solution to what? And how? Did the kiss mean anything at all, or was it a spur of the moment emotion, his way of burning you out of his system?
The unknown is a terrible, insurmountable hurdle.
I think I might throw up.
Instead you take a few deep breaths, swallow hard, and with a feverish energy begin to clean the house. You attack parts of the living room that clearly haven’t been touched since you moved in, and you empty out the utensil tray to dump out the crumbs and wash it. The floors have never seen such a thorough scrubbing, and as you prepare to wipe down the microwave, your sister comes home.
After an initial hello, she remains unusually silent.
The sound of the Brillo wars with the music blaring from the TV.
“So, how was your day?” Allie asks loudly.
“Fine.”
“Have you been cleaning all day?”
“Yep. This place hasn’t seen a good wipe down in years, and I have more time on my hands than’s good for me.”
There’s a very pregnant pause.
“Is it Silco?”
You jab at a particularly stubborn piece of hardened cheese.
She eventually leaves. You continue your cleaning, although a sight more miserable than you were before. Also, you’re now trying (and failing) not to be full of self-pity. As you scrub, your brain begins to chant in rhythm.
He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not…
“Okay sis, let’s go.”
“Look, I’m kind of in the middle of this, and I don’t feel like –”
“Don’t care. Go get dressed.”
You’re very, very annoyed at her high handed tone, but after scowling over your shoulder at her unflinching gaze, you rip off the gloves and slouch to your room.
“And make sure you dress in warm, totally comfy clothes!” She calls.
It’s with much ill will and muttering that you follow her orders, but when you reappear she has an armful of blankets and the cats’ full body harnesses. Your mood lifts a fraction as you grasp her plan.
Crocs and Jorts are circling your ankles, meowing like little fiends, and when Allie tosses Jorts’ blue harness to you the cat scrambles over to let you slip it around her wriggling body.
Allie grabs her keys and jerks her head towards the door. Everyone piles into her car, and Crocs immediately takes up a sentry position in the backseat while you keep Jorts clutched in your lap. She doesn’t seem to mind, thankfully, at least for the time being. She stares out the window, pupils dilated, the purr factory rumbling as you scratch her cheeks.
The sound momentarily soothes the ache in your soul.
You make a short detour through Target for snacks and Starbucks before turning on the highway heading towards Piltover.
“So,” Allie says at last. “You doing okay?”
“No,” You say shortly, and you’re unable to say more because your throat tightens.
You close your eyes and attempt to take long, even breaths, though you only succeed in pressing out the tears that have been building up all day. As you release your first hiccuping sob, you feel her hand slip into yours, and you grasp it like a lifeline.
The trip towards the Piltover coastline is just under an hour, and neither of you speak a word the entire ride. She changes the music to something calm, and you eventually cry yourself out. You work your way through the last tissues in her car tissue box, and break into the crumpled napkins she keeps stashed in the middle console.
The sun’s setting by the time you make it to the water front, and as is your custom, she makes a turn that will take you on a long, winding road along the coast.
Your mind is a vortex as you stare out at the last vestiges of sunlight fading on the water.
“I guess I’m just worried that it didn’t mean anything,” You say thickly, nose stuffed. “The fact that I… I said I loved him and then he… he never said anything back. He just kissed me. I mean, I say ‘just’ like that isn’t what I wanted. I’m happy it happened. But ….”
You take a few moments to sniffle. “What if it was just a game to him? And now that he knows he’s my weakness, he’s going to use that against me, just like Jeremiah did?”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“How do you know?”
“He kissed you with tongue.”
“Allie...”
“I'm serious. Guys don’t kiss with tongue unless they’re really into you, and I can tell you that from personal experience.”
"But what if he's just interested in, you know..."
"Sex?"
"Yeah."
"I don't think so sis. If he only wanted sex from you, he would have had it already. I mean you told him you loved him, and you were kissing alone in the shop. If there was ever a better opportunity, that was it."
You bend over to hide your flaming face, under the guise of untangling Jorts’ leash from your bag. “Okay, well I still feel like a fool. I mean I laid it all out, and then when it was time to go he just… let me leave.”
“I felt the same way after my first date with Marcus.”
“That’s because it was a total disaster.”
“Yeah, but I was in the same spot you are now. I was the first to say I love you, and the first to go in for the kiss. I don’t know if you know this, but he still hasn’t said I love you back.”
You gape up at her. “What?”
She nods. “Yep. But the truth is, he doesn’t have to. I know he does, even if he finds it hard to say the words. It’s more about the things he does. He shows his love by spending time with me, and giving me things. And he’s not hard to read, so I can usually see what he wants to say without him needing to say it.”
“But doesn’t that make you insecure? Not knowing?”
“Sometimes. But then he holds me in his arms and kisses me and I know exactly how he feels.”
You ponder her words as she pulls over on the side of the road, where a small parking lot indicates beach entry. You’re transported momentarily back into Silco’s arms. You can still feel the passion of his embrace, the desperation in the way he held you, like he was determined to never let you go.
The car turns off and she sighs. “Look sis, I know that I don’t know Silco at all, but he doesn’t strike me as a stupid man, or the type of man who rushes into things. He was probably caught off guard by what you told him, and just needed time to figure out how he feels. And since he isn’t a good texter...”
“How do you know that?”
“I looked at your phone while you were changing and saw all his texts. It’s definitely not his best form of communication.”
“Allie,” You say with exasperation, but there’s no real ire behind it.
“I wanted to know what was happening.”
You shake your head and gather up your things to take the steep, serpentine path down to the sand. You place your blankets while the cats gambole through the nearby scrub brush.
“Can I give you a little sisterly advice?” She says, after you've settled.
“Shoot.”
“I think you should wait him out.”
You frown at her.
“Marcus needed me to pursue him because he didn’t have a lot of self-confidence. But if there’s one thing I know about Silco, it's that he has a ton of it. I think he’s going to say something to you tomorrow at the show, and whatever it is, it’ll be clear as crystal so you'll know exactly how he feels. So be patient. See what happens. And if he’s as smart as I think he is, then he'll tell you that he's madly in love with you.”
Wouldn't that be nice.
You bite the inside of your cheek as you consider a jumble of possible conversations with Silco in your head. You flex your toes on the blanket, and Jorts appears out of nowhere to pounce on them. You play with her until she gets bored and bounds away. For some time there's nothing except the sound of the waves crashing, and the wind stirring the scrub brush. Your mind quiets as you watch the white caps foam along the shoreline.
Then a buzz from your pocket rips you from your tranquility. You hurriedly pull out your phone, heart pounding…
But it’s only a notification letting you know that your phone is, once again, in low battery mode.
“Stupid thing,” You mutter, and power it off. “I don’t know what’s gotten into it.”
“It’s clearly tired, and wants a break from you constantly googling 'Shirtless pics of Silco Spisak'."
You turn pink. “That was one time okay?”
“Uh huh.”
“Like you can sit on your high horse. I’ve seen your camera roll. You have a ton of weird pictures of Marcus that you found on the internet.”
“Yes I do,” She says with a satisfied smile. “And I regret nothing.”
You wish you had an ounce of her self assurance. You wish you were bold enough to ask Silco right out if he loves you too. You wish you were with him right now, running a thumb down his cheek, pressing a kiss to the upturned corner of his mouth.
“It’s hard, isn’t it? Being apart for so long.”
You hear the wistfulness in her voice.
“Yeah.”
She starts playing with the sand. “Sometimes I forget what life was like before I had Marcus to think about. I don’t even remember what my dreams were.”
“To be the most famous tattoo artist in Zaun.”
“Right, but besides that. Who am I, without him?”
“The same amazing Allie you’ve always been," You say, bumping into her shoulder. "Fiercely loyal, a stupid good artist, a supportive and loving sister. And really, really annoying.”
She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I know I’m super good at being annoying.”
You snicker. “I mean it. You're the best sister I could ask for. I don’t know where I’d be without you. Probably pretty lonely and a lot less fun. I laugh the most when I'm with you.”
"Thanks sis."
"You're welcome," You look out at the surf and take in a deep breath. “And thanks for this. I’ve missed our late night hangouts.”
“Me too. I didn’t realize it until now. Let’s make a deal not to forget about each other even though we both have stupid boys to manage.”
You grin as she pulls cheetos out of one of her many bags, and offers it to you.
“Deal.”