Chapter Text
Saturday, October 16th
Despite having stayed up disgustingly late with your sister, you wake up early.
It’s cruel, really, when you think about it. One of your few days off this week, and for once you have no reason to be up early. You lie in bed with your eyes closed, hoping your body will take the hint and let you sleep for at least another hour, but alas…
No such luck.
So you get up and make some coffee. The only event on your agenda is going to Jinx’s show, which means your schedule consists of getting dressed and going at your mom’s house at 6pm.
You look at the clock on the wall.
5:45am.
Silco’s probably been up for hours.
Which begs an interesting and important question: does he ever work from home? And if so, does he wear one of his expensive suits and dress shoes, or does he lounge around in his pajamas?
What kind of pajamas does an illusive business mogul wear, anyway?
The sudden image of a mussy haired Silco reclining in his home office chair – wearing a 90’s grunge band tee and a pair of red plaid lounge pants – is almost enough to make you lose your mind.
Come on woman, pull yourself together!
You’re going to have to work very hard to fill the time today, or else you’ll fall into an endless vacuum of daydreaming.
Is that a bad thing though?
Yes.
You brush your teeth vigorously and on a whim get dressed to go work out at the gym. The drive is consumed with wondering what you’re going to do when you get there, and whether or not Silco has a morning workout routine.
He probably uses a Peloton or something. Or goes to an exclusive club for rich people so he doesn’t have to wait for sweaty strangers to stop texting so he can use their machine.
Luckily the place is mostly empty when you arrive. You thought it would be hard to focus, but as soon as your headphones go on, all that exists is you, moving your body, and completing the next rep. It’s a glorious forty minutes of Silco free bliss. Then you go to change out of your shoes in the locker room and see your sweaty reflection in the mirror.
What on earth convinced him to be interested in you?
It’s not that you don’t think you’re attractive. You’re attractive enough, smart enough, and capable enough to make your way in the world. But what kills you the most is wondering why such a world-weary, successful man would look at you and think: I want this one. The woman who argues with me, and who's professional resume is pathetically small in comparison to my own.
It’s the question that’s been haunting you, and you aren't sure it has an answer because you don’t even know if he does want you.
But Allie's right. He isn’t the type to let his passions run away with him, and he doesn’t like to be misunderstood. He’ll let you know his intentions as soon as he’s decided what they are.
Which is what makes this waiting feel like a slow torture.
You make it back home by 7am to shower, and think about how you wish you'd been scheduled to work today, because at least then you’d have had something to do for 7 of the 11 hours left in your Saturday.
After showering you wander into the kitchen and snoop around the fridge and pantry to see if there’s anything to eat.
It’s one of those “technically there is stuff to eat, but you'd have to chop it up and/or cook it before you can eat it” situations, and that’s as good as “there’s nothing to eat” in your book. You might have 11 hours before you have to leave, but you aren’t about to spend any of that time cooking, no matter how desperate you are.
Does Silco like to cook, or does he have a cook?
You picture him standing at his stovetop with a rumpled towel thrown over his shoulder (wearing a “world’s best dad” apron, obviously), sauteing something as Jinx sits cross-legged on the island, chatting about her newest piece she’s going to reveal at the show. You have no trouble at all imagining yourself sitting on one of those high chairs, sipping coffee as you listen to her ramble.
An ache settles deep in your chest.
You snag an apple and decide now’s as good a time as any to start your laundry.
You put in a load before grabbing a book at random from the stack of partially read books in your room (which is getting embarrassingly out of hand), and settle on the couch to read. You just manage to remember where you are in the story, who the characters are, and why you care what happens to them, when your sister starts rustling around in her room.
Your concentration breaks stunningly fast, and you look at the wall, hopeful.
8:01am.
Dear God, it’s only been an hour.
Your sister emerges from her room like a zombie, grunting and dragging her mobile tattooing equipment to the door. She has a few clients today, all of them house calls. You envy her schedule. You’d give anything to be distracted from the nerves clenching your stomach right now (except cooking, of course, as previously discussed).
Though moving at the pace of a sloth, your sister still manages to leave the house in record time. From the time she appears, it takes her a grand total of 15 minutes to get dressed, grab her things, and leave.
After the door closes behind her you wander to your room to put the book back on the half-read pile (where it will probably remain unopened for another six months), and realize that you don’t have anything to give Jinx to celebrate her show.
You vaguely recall seeing an antique/vintage shop during your frantic run-around of The Fissures trying to find Jinx and Ekko. A quick check of the shop hours shows it opens at 10:30. If that doesn’t pan out, Target is always a good fallback. At the very least you can find a cheesy five dollar movie or a fake flower lego set she’d probably enjoy building.
Now all you have to do is hang around the house till 10:15, and you’ll be as good as gold.
An hour and a half and counting….
9:45am, One Hour Later.
Nope.
You can’t take it any longer.
There’s simply nothing left to wait around for. Your laundry is hanging up or in the drier, and the next load is started. Your room is already tidier than it’s ever been, and you’d rather go out driving and burn up gas for no reason than be stuck at home with nothing to do but think.
You put on shoes and head to the car.
There’s a coffee shop across the street from The Fissures that you hope will keep you entertained long enough for the thrift shop to open. It’s a fifteen minute drive time, and by the time you park and order an americano, you only have twenty minutes to wait.
You settle on one of the chairs on the deck and consider how time can be a real kick in the pants. At this point you’d welcome any distraction, even one in the form of Charles Rodriguez.
Why isn’t he around when I actually need him?
You sip and scroll mindlessly on TikTok, and before you realize it it’s almost 10:45.
The thrift shop does, in fact, have some really fun things, but nothing large enough to constitute a good gift. You buy a few interesting trinkets that you think scream “Jinx”, head to Target to fill in the gaps, then go for lunch at Jericho’s. You aren’t very hungry, but you sit outside anyway and make a show of eating as you take out your phone to scroll until the 20% low battery warning forces you to slip it back into your pocket. This sends you down the bunny trail of thinking about what kind of phone you want to get as an upgrade.
Probably one that’s just old enough to be reasonably priced, but new enough not to become obsolete in the next five years. You also have to consider how many cute phone cases are available for the model you choose.
It’s a very delicate balance.
It’s almost 1:30 when you give up the facade of eating, pack up, and wander around Trader Joe’s wondering (unhelpfully) if Silco’s day is dragging along as slowly as yours, or if he even notices the time at all.
What exactly does he do all day long?
What’s he doing right now?
You grab cookies, a bouquet of flowers, and a card for Jinx.
As you fill out the card and put together her gift bag, you put on a mediocre looking netflix fantasy series you’ve been thinking about for the last four months. It does the job of sucking up the rest of the day. As you start on your make-up, you generously rate the first 3 episodes 6.7 stars out of 10 because while the show concept is pretty basic and the tropes clichéd, the cutesy emotional support side characters look like they’re going to end up together.
Your make-up application is fairly minimal because your hands are shaking and you aren’t sure you can manage a clean winged liner. Mascara, blush, and a muted pink lipstick become the finished look.
As you blow dry your hair you consider what accessories to wear, your thoughts drift towards the dress and jewels still sitting in your room. It’s probably time to return them. It’s nerve wracking to think about the couple thousand dollars worth of borrowed jewelry just sitting in the bottom of your musty apartment closet.
After putting on your chosen outfit you collect the box, and Jinx's gift, and put them by the door. You also collect the random vegetables you still need to give to your mom, and put it next your suddenly very large pile of things to carry before settling on the arm of the couch to wait.
Fifteen minutes till your GPS’s suggested leave time, you decide you don’t like what you’re wearing and run to the bedroom to tear through your closet in a frenzy. You end up leaving five minutes late, and only slightly more satisfied with the pants you chose to change into.
You somehow make up the time on the way to your parents’ house, which is good because you know your mother, and the chances of her being ready when you walk in the door are slim to none.
“Hello sweetheart! I’m almost ready, I just need a few more minutes to do my hair.”
Resigned, you put the vegetables in her fridge and rummage in one of the many junk drawers in the kitchen until you find a cord you can use to plug in your phone. It’s not dying exactly, but you don’t want to take any chances.
Your foot starts to wiggle as the clock hits 6:30 with no sign of your mother’s emergence. At 6:38 she trails out to ask your opinion on what coat to wear, and at 6:41 she says she just needs to find her shoes. You finally manage to hustle her out the front door at 6:48.
The law ceases to exist as you speed your way to the venue. You mom chats mindlessly during the drive, and you’re grateful she doesn’t seem to mind that it’s an entirely one-sided conversation. Even if your stomach wasn’t doing somersaults, your throat seems incapable of forming any sound except the occasional grunt. Despite your best efforts, you’re ten minutes late, and the derelict parking lot is already entirely full. You have to circle twice before you find an unmarked spot to squeeze your car into.
You emerge clutching Jinx’s gift bag like it’s a lifeline.
There are several smoke-stacked buildings looming in the twilight, but only one has light pouring from its broken windows like a beacon, and music bumping like a club. You follow the signs taking you down a path through the broken chain link fence, and link your arm with your mom’s to keep yourself from power-walking down the leaf strewn walkway.
Your pulse matches the heavy EDM base that’s already threatening to give you a headache as you skirt a circle of drinking and laughing people to climb the short railed staircase to the entry door. With an unsteady breath you pull the handle and allow your mom to step through first, then you step from the darkness into the strange world of art.
The building is several stories tall, and the space is flooded with industrial lighting. Canvases are propped up against massive, derelict machines, and hang in broken windows. Abandoned shipping containers are being used to showcase individual artists’ pieces, while a few interesting installations have been strung up haphazardly along industrial sized cables. Al fresco pieces are also on display, one of which appears to have been painted purely for social media purposes.
There’s a line in front of the mural that says “Welcome To The Wild’s of Wonderland!”, flanked by two grotesque and horrifying looking people in costume (who you think are supposed to be the cheshire cat and mad hatter).
The showcase appears to extend the entire building.
After a moment of hovering near the door to get your bearings, you and your mom step towards the square of heavy wooden dinner tables which are covered with finger foods – hors d'oeuvres, sweets, and also a large selection of bottled drinks (most of which bear the Last Drop label, you note). People seem to occupy every available floor space, and you’re trying hard to figure out why you recognize a few of them when Sevika materializes at your shoulder. She looks for all the world like she’s having the worst time of her life.
“Finally, you’re here. I thought I was going to go out of my goddamn mind.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I told Silco it was a bad idea to leave the kid unsupervised, and now she’s so hyped up on red bulls and sour patch kids that she’s bouncing off the fuckin’ walls. Sorry Leslie. Excuse the french.”
She looks only mildly apologetic as she waves her hand at your mother. “I was on the verge of stabbing one of them with a blunt fork, but now that your daughter’s here it’s less likely I’ll get locked away for double homicide.”
Double?
“What’s up with Silco?” You ask casually as she pushes forward to grab a Shimmer, “Is he hyped up on red bull too?”
She pops the cap off the bottle by slamming it on the edge of the scuffed wood table. This earns a few affronted glances from people nearby, which she ignores. After several gulps she wipes her face on her arm and grabs a piece of cake with her bare hands.
“The man’s been as twitchy as his daughter the last few days. But you’re here now, and I’ll be damned if that won’t settle him down.”
Your heart is thumping wildly as you watch her shovel the rest of the cake into her mouth. Out of the corner of your eye you can see your mother watching you with narrowed eyes, and it takes everything you have not to grin like an absolute maniac.
You help settle Silco?
“Jinx’s install is upstairs, in the north east office of the building,” Sevika says after licking her fingers. “The girl’s probably crawling around the ceiling somewhere, head spinning. But if you can’t find her just listen for the sound of buzzing blood suckers and you’ll find the boss.”
It’s too loud for you to waste your breath asking who the blood suckers are, and Sevika’s already dismissed you by turning more fully towards the snack table.
You take to the metal staircase that’s halfway down the length of the building, dodging around a large group congregated at the top of the stairs. One of them gives you a nod, and it isn’t until you squeeze past him that his face registers in your brain. He was the bouncer from The Last Drip who was keeping the drunk at bay when you’d gone to ask for the wifi.
The other faces you'd recognized start to become clearer in your memory. They all worked at The Last Drop.
Is the entire building full of Silco’s employees?
You shake your head as you turn north east on the catwalk, heading towards a good sized, L-shaped room in the corner. It’s just as busy up here as it is down below, except there’s less room to walk so the going is slow. You wiggle through the masses, and at last you manage to fight your way through the entryway.
You immediately recognize Jinx’s paintings, but as Sevika predicted, the girl’s nowhere in sight. Neither is your mother, for that matter, which you don’t realize until you turn to point something out to her.
She must have gotten distracted by one of the other installations.
You’re about to go looking for her when a large canvas catches your attention.
Jinx’s new piece.
You walk over to examine it.
The portrait is propped up on a desk in full display, full of Jinx's signature emotive brush strokes and bold style. The background is a hypnotic swirl of black and white, drawing your eye to two large heads painted cheek to cheek in the epicenter of the painting.
The faces both appear to be Jinx. The one on the left is soft and pink, and looks for all the world as though it’s glowing. She has luminous blue eyes and an expression of serenity. The jinx on the right is blue and bruised, the edges of her face harsh and angular. But there’s a haughty, elegant tilt to her mouth, and her eyes burn a vivid, hot pink. A ghostly face has been transposed over the top of her double portrait, creating a third face torn between the two expressions.
You stand there for some time, admiring the piece, and lean forward to try to see how she managed to paint such clean lines when you catch sight of another canvas tucked behind the desk. This one is much smaller, and is swaddled in a paint flecked piece of fabric. It’s mostly hidden, and the wrapping looks hastily applied.
Your interest is piqued.
The fabric is flopping at the corner, revealing a gold gilded frame. You’re tempted to tug it open to peek inside, but before you indulge your curiosity you take a covert look around.
You try to play it casual (and definitely not suspicious). There doesn’t seem to be anyone watching, but there are a lot of people packed into the room. You sweep the crowd and zero in on a particularly dense collection of people just outside the door on the opposite side of the room. A few of them are members of the ZCC board.
Blood suckers.
You straighten up. Where there’s a buzz, there’s sure to be…
Silco.
A body shifts, and there he is, all sharp profiled and pursed lips.
You've been waiting for this moment for three days, and unabashedly drink in the sight of him.
Though his eyepatch is firmly in place, he still radiates his usual careless elegance. He’s standing with his hands clasped behind his back, dressed in an impressive long coat with a gold trimmed collar.
He shifts from foot to foot, his chin jutting out as he speaks. The longer you watch him, the more you recognize the agitation Sevika was referring to. There’s a stiffness to his shoulders, and his fingers are twitching behind his back. Annoyance gilts his features, deepening the lines between his eyebrows. There’s also a small scrunch to his nose, causing his haughty contempt to appear to be more than just a facade.
He’s coiled tight and ready to spring.
The person to his left looks like they're speaking to him, and he shifts with an impatient shrug, turning his head as he does so to spare the room a sharp glance.
It immediately cuts across you.
Your heart triples its beat as he doubles back. Your eyes lock, and you stare at each other for a deep, endless moment.
The hard lines in his face soften.
A muscle in his cheek twitches, and you swear there's a hint of a smile hiding at the corner of his mouth.
You manage a small, self-conscious smile in return.
Hello Silco. I’ve missed you.
Then he's gone, lost behind a gaggle of laughing college students, and the spell is broken.
You start to breathe again only after you turn away to stare vaguely at Jinx's self portrait. You clench the bag in your hand, vaguely aware that it's shaking. When did the white spots start dancing in front of your eyes?
Now what?
Seeing him removed the will for independent movement.
“OMG YOU’RE HERE!!!!”
Jinx’s sneak attack takes you by surprise, as does the kiss she plants on your cheek.
You manage to say something that sounds like her name, hiding inside a shrill laugh. The next words that come out of your mouth are mostly automatic.
“Congratulations on your show and the new piece! It's amazing! What’s it called?”
“Just Like You Were Always Meant To Be. My first attempt was supposed to be a take on having an angel and demon on my shoulder, but that canvas was destroyed in the rage monster episode I had the other day so I painted this one instead. OMG wait, are those for me?!”
She snatches the flowers from your hand and breathes in deep before clutching them to her chest. “They’re so freakin’ gorgeous! Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. I also got you these,” You’re suddenly aware of the fact that the girl is wearing what looks like a rag-tag assortment of designer brands as you hand her the gift bag. “It’s not much but I um… I thought of you when I saw them.”
The girl tears out the wrapping paper and immediately shrieks. “OMG are these disco ball earrings?!”
Without preamble she tugs out the studs in her ears and slips in the hooks. She shakes her head before striking a dramatic pose and demanding, “How do they look? Amazing? I bet they look amazing. What do you think daddy?”
“I think they suit you perfectly.”
Your head whips around and there he is, standing with his hands still clasped behind his back. The surprise of seeing him so close numbs you to reason, and your gaze lingers on his face, appreciating the way the collar of his coat brushes against his cheekbones.
Has he always looked cute and intimidating, or am I just going crazy?
At some point you realize he’s watching you watch him, which is embarrassing.
You force yourself to face Jinx, and watch her unwrap the rest of the gifts. She's suitably excited about each item, as silly and small as they are, and when she’s finished she throws her arms around you in a tight hug.
“Thank you so much! Now I have something for you. I just finished it last night.” She tugs you around so that you face the desk. “It’s time to reveal my great pièce de résistance!”
“You mean the surprise painting isn’t your self portrait?”
She snorts. “That's not even close to my best work. Now this… this is a true creation!”
She moves her self portrait rather impatiently to the floor, and with a flourish pulls the fabric swaddled canvas from behind the desk to set it in its place. She then takes hold of the fabric and tugs it free of the frame.
“Et voila!”
Awestruck doesn't even begin to explain how you feel at the revelation.
It's a renaissance style oil painting of a woman in a red stained suit of armor. She's peering out at the audience with a tired, yet serene look in her eye as she rests on a long sword. At her feet is a dragon, alive but subdued, unscathed save for its single, ruined eye. Around these central figures are small details of trees and castle, horses and soldiers.
“It’s you,” Jinx says, suddenly shy. “I was painting you in that red suit, but then I ruined that canvas too. I was pretty bummed about it until I got this idea in Art History class. We were learning about St. George and The Dragon, and I thought you’d look really cool in a suit of armor instead.”
"I do look really cool in armor." You mumble, struggling to process this news.
Now that you’re paying attention, there’s no doubt it's you. Jinx somehow managed to capture your face, flyaway hair, and the shape of your eyes, though the woman is far too regal to possibly be you.
The girl is watching you anxiously, biting her lip as she rocks back and forth onto her toes. “Well? What do you think?”
“Jinx, it’s… I don’t even know what to say.”
"It's stunning."
You're thrown by Silco’s coat brushing suddenly against your arm. Your heart pounds as you watch him give the canvas a careful once over, then turn to look you in the eye.
“Absolute perfection.”