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1. Mylo
Mylo comes running into the kitchen, face splotchy with tears. He’s a bit old for temper tantrums, at 14, but Silco has come to learn that children love diving into hysterics. His youngest son throws himself into a chair at the table and tucks his head into his arms. The laughter of the other children floats up the hall.
“Oh dear,” says Silco, dry. He continues cutting vegetables. Mylo is not a child who can be coaxed into sharing his feelings. It’s lucky, then, that his emotions are so easily accessed. He has worn his heart on his sleeve since the day they took him in.
“They’re making fun of me! You have to tell them to stop!” Mylo demands things frequently. Silco is not the kind of parent, or person, in fact, who gives in to demands. He hums and checks that his pot is heating adequately. “Silco,” Mylo whines.
“Janna help me,” Silco announces, as if to an empty room, “I seem to be noticing something odd about my son’s behavior.” Mylo groans and throws himself from the chair. Silco sighs. How many more years will he have to endure having teenaged children?
Down the hall, it sounds as if the other kids have found something else to occupy their attention. From the sounds of it, they’ve built their wrestling ring again. A resounding crash rings out, followed by cheering. That’s Vander’s business, Silco decides. Tender quiet settles back into the kitchen. This is usually Silco’s relaxation time, when the kids take over the living room, Vander mans the bar, Silco puts aside his treatises and memorandums to make dinner. When it’s quiet in the kitchen, you can just overhear the jukebox down in the bar playing.
Mylo sniffles. “Do you think I’ll be alone forever?” Silco puts his knife aside and turns to look at Mylo, brow furrowed. “I like a girl in my class. But she likes this boy who trains with Vi, and she told Vi that she knows I like her and Vi told me to stop bothering her ‘cause it makes me look stupid, but I didn’t know she knew I liked her and it’s not fair that she told Vi about it, ‘cause I wasn’t even gonna do anything about it, especially ‘cause the boy she likes could seriously beat me up, and I told Vi that I don’t even talk to her, I just think she has pretty hair, and she called me a creep, and I’m fucking not! Please tell them to stop making fun of me!”
“I can do that, if you want,” Silco assures. He grimaces. Vander is the one who deals with emotions. They’re supposed to come to Silco when they’ve done something wrong, or when they need first aid. “It must be upsetting that this girl has eyes for another.”
“It blows.” Mylo pulls his knees up to his chest. Poor thing, he’s just as boney as Silco was at that age, all knees and elbows, with the added issue of his wild hair. If he’d just use the conditioner Silco gave him, it’d be more manageable.
“You know, Vander was the first boy who ever showed interest in me.”
“I thought you had all sorts of guys who Vander had to fight off all the time,” Mylo counters glumly. Silco laughs. He’d had maybe two partners who weren’t Vander, and, though he’d tried his fair share of one-nights, only Vander had ever been the one he could stand to look at for very long. Not that Mylo needs to know any of that.
“Oh, no, certainly not. Maybe a few people looked my way right at the height of our ‘revolution,’ but mostly I was this greasy, too-skinny, too-mean little thing. I’d made my peace with being, as you put it, alone forever.”
“But you’re not alone! You have a whole family or whatever. I’m never gonna have that.” Mylo flaps a hand at him, standing in the kitchen in the cutesy apron Powder painted for him, soothing an upset teenager.
“Do you want that?”
“I want someone to love me. And I want to maybe have a kid one day. I don’t want to be all alone.”
“Get off of the floor, My.” Silco directs, stepping towards him. Mylo stands, hunching sadly. Silco tsks, and takes his shoulders in hand, straightening his back. Mylo is already quite tall, almost meeting Silco’s eye. Silco examines his youngest son’s downtrodden expression. “Two things. Do you know how old I was when Vander and I finally figured things out?”
“Like 27 or something.”
“Exactly. So you have 13 or something years before you get to start wondering if you’ll be alone your whole life. Understood?”
“Yeah, whatever,” Mylo rolls his eyes. Silco cracks a smile.
“Secondly: You are an extraordinary young man. You are quick-witted, intelligent, and capable of such sincerity and kindness. Those are enviable traits, Mylo. Do you know those things about yourself?” Mylo shrugs, clearly embarrassed. Silco shakes him lightly. “I need you to know that. You cannot make a relationship work, when the time comes, if you cannot see yourself clearly. The best thing I ever did for my ‘love life’ was understand what I had to offer the world and start working towards it. So. Chin up. Decide on your future, and work towards it. The rest will come naturally.”
“So, just do my schoolwork and shut up about it?” Mylo deflects, grinning. Silco snorts.
“You should have told me that was on the table before I stopped what I was doing.”
“Ugh, everyone in this house hates me,” Mylo objects. He brushes Silco’s hands off his shoulders, then pauses for a moment. “Can I have a hug?”
Silco reels him in with a chuckle. Mylo doesn’t see himself clearly, but Silco can see little glimpses of the man Mylo will be. He’s not worried in the least. “You’re going to be fine, Mylo. Just let love come as it comes.”
“Thanks dad,” Mylo mutters, pushing him away and scrubbing the tears from his face.
“Now. Go tell the others that if anything I bought is broken, whoever broke it is mopping floors in the bar until they can pay for it.”
—
2. Vi
When Violet slinks into the kitchen, Silco groans. The look on her face is foreboding, not because she’s angry or upset, but because she clearly wants something. She puts the bag of coffee he asked for on the edge of the counter and pauses there, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Maybe he's getting too predictable, Silco thinks, his children keep interrupting his personal quiet time in this damn kitchen. He should go back to chain smoking on the roof.
“Don’t ask me for something that Vander already told you no about,” Silco preempts. Violet sneers, rolling her eyes. She shakes her head and snatches his forgotten mug of tea for herself. She's not going to like it, so Silco just rolls his eyes and goes back to the stove. He takes a small spoonful and offers it to Violet. A dimple appears in her cheek as she suppresses a smile. She takes the offered bite and shrugs, before turning to the spice cabinet. She pulls down a few different jars, his mug of tea tucked to her chest. Silco starts adding her suggestions.
“I just want to tell you something,” she says. A nervous blush is creeping up her cheeks. "Ask you something. How I should do something."
“Okay…” Gods above, she’s going to ask him to go topside or something. She’s growing up so quickly, she already runs circles around her siblings, she's even been going on small jobs with him, but Silco just can’t bear the idea that one day she’ll be old enough to want out of their house, to want independence to go wherever she pleases.
“You know, um, my girlfriend?” Violet takes a sip of his tea, needing something to do with her hands. She makes a disgusted face at his cold, bitter drink and sets it back onto the counter. Alarm bells are going off between Silco's ears. “And how I said I really like her…”
“Violet, my heart can't take it if you ask me about sex. Go back down to the bar and ask Sevika.” Silco would like to think that he says it with some amount of composure, but he's begging her. She's still ten years old in his mind; he can't think of her and her little girlfriend getting into the things he and Vander were getting into when they were her age.
“Ew, no! I don’t—I’d never ask you about that!”
“Well now, what's that supposed to mean?" He asks archly, "I'd say that I am quite an authority on vaginas.”
“Shut up, shut up!” Violet actually puts her hands over her ears and squeezes her eyes shut, as if against the upsetting image her mind has conjured. Silco delights in seeing her do something so overtly childish. “I just wanted to ask you for advice, but you’re being weird about it.”
"Fine, fine. Are you in trouble?" Silco takes her elbow, guides her over to the kitchen table and sits across from her. The food can simmer for a while.
"No. I just, uh. We've been going on dates and stuff, and talking a lot. And, you know, kissing or whatever, but I just…" Violet shrugs. She looks maybe the most uncomfortable she ever has. "I thought I liked her a lot, but I'm…bored?" She winces at her own statement. She's just alike to Vander in that she can't sit properly still for anything, picking at the wrap around her right wrist, which Silco thinks is sprained. He wonders if he should start sitting in on some of her sparring lessons with Sevika. His daughter can't keep coming back home with injuries.
At an annoyed look from Violet, Silco focuses back in. He could have sworn she was just head over heels for this girl, but really, what could be expected from her first girlfriend? They can't all be soulmates, and this girl had never quite seemed comfortable in their home, the few times she'd visited.
"You're bored, hm? How long had you known her before you two started dating?"
"A few weeks. But we're the same age. She learned her letters at the same time as me." Violet shrugs, clearly not seeing the issue Silco does. Is it enough to have some shared history? To have had the same mean old lady snap your knuckles for holding the pencil wrong? To fight your siblings for scraps, and know that your partner did as well?
"What do you two talk about? Maybe she's just unsure how to communicate her thoughts." Silco offers. Not just anyone could measure up to Violet's confidence.
"I don't think she has that many thoughts, Silco. Every time we get a change in legislation from topside, I mention it to her and she says that she doesn't really think about that stuff."
"Ah." Silco says, at a loss. He couldn't imagine raising a child like that, nor being a person like that at all. His children argue politics over the dinner table. Sometimes it gets physical.
"I think I have to break up with her," Violet laments. She looks at him, searching his face. He tries to school his expression into something neutral, but she sees what he's thinking. "She's hot, but I don't think we make sense together."
"I thought you were in love with her, flower," Silco objects, but Violet waves it away.
"No, you're right, if she's this unconcerned with the world around her, she'd turn away if she saw someone suffering. I can't be party to that. Thanks Silco." Violet stands up with a decisive nod. "You always help me work through my thoughts." She strides out of the kitchen with double the confidence she entered.
Silco watches after her, bemused. He'll never understand teenage girls, even having been one himself.
—
3. Claggor
Silco sways a bit as he assembles sandwiches for the kids. His head hurts today, but it's the light kind that happens when he's just tired, so he's happy to set aside a few minutes to feed his children. Vander's just as tired as him; Silco isn't the only one losing sleep over nightmares. Silco hums, considering whether to make Vander something as well. He doesn't like cold food, so Silco would have to make him something other than a sandwich. Maybe they have ingredients for a quick soup. Or a warm sauce—something to dip the sandwiches in, at least.
Claggor stoops as he steps lightly into the kitchen. Silco will never stop being surprised by how tall he's getting. He's barely into adulthood, for Janna's sake. He towers over even Vander. Silco gives him a wan smile as he makes his way to the icebox to look over his options for ingredients.
"I'm making sandwiches. Do you want soup with it, or sauce?"
"Doesn’t your head hurt?”
“Not too terribly.” Silco waves a careless hand. He’s done things much more strenuous with worse injuries, with real injuries, in fact. He decides to just throw together a light soup, he can just let it simmer on the stove top awhile and have one of the kids turn it off once it’s done. The room swings when he straightens up, his blood rushing wildly at the sudden change. Silco steadies himself on the stool someone keeps moving beside the icebox, much to Silco’s continued consternation. He scoffs at it, as if the innocent piece of furniture were responsible for the wrongdoing. He supposes it’s nice that it’s there to steady himself on, but it’s the principal of the thing. “I’m making soup, you waited too long.”
“Can I try making it?” Claggor is stood next to the spot where Silco usually preps food. He has a determined look on his face.
Silco raises a brow. “Since when are you interested in cooking?” Claggor shrugs, sheepish.
“I wanna learn. I might need it one day.”
“Yes, alright, then,” Silco relents with little convincing, as his head is full of ball bearings. He dumps the soup ingredients onto the counter and gestures Claggor forward. “But this better not be another one of you and your sister’s ridiculous bets.”
Claggor chuckles, the most he ever really laughs nowadays. “It’s not, she hasn’t even been home today.” Probably out with the flavor of the week, Silco thinks. He’s stopped attempting to remember names, much to Vander’s dismay. It always ends up with Vander fumbling to greet the girl while Silco simply graces them with a regal nod.
“You’ve just got to cut everything up so it’ll fit on a spoon, then throw it all in the pot.” Silco advises over Claggor’s shoulder, leaning heavily on the counter top. Claggor is capable with a knife, as all of Silco’s children must be, so it doesn’t take him long to chop the vegetables and tofu into small-ish chunks. Silco directs him to start with the aromatics before adding the water.
“So, a little more than chop it up and toss it in the pot,” Claggor says with a roll of his eyes. Silco shakes his head.
“If you want it to be just fine, you can do that. It’ll taste like food. But if you want it to be good, you can do a few extra steps.”
Claggor mutters something under his breath that Silco is too tired to chase down. He lets whatever it is slide. Claggor is his easiest child, bar none, even including Ekko, who doesn’t actually live in Silco’s house. The most difficult thing about him is how close to the chest he plays things. Silco can tell he wants to talk about something, but he’ll just have to wait it out. Claggor doesn’t do things on anyone’s time but his own. Silco directs him through the process of making the soup, and pats him on the shoulder, resenting that he has to reach up to do so.
“I’m going to lay down. It’ll take 20 minutes to be ready to eat, just turn it on low when you serve it up. And bring a bowl down to your pop.”
“Yessir,” Claggor says, quiet. He opens his mouth, as if to say something else, but he seems to rethink it.
“What’s on your mind?” He’s not going to push, he just needs to ask.
“It’s nothing.”
“Claggor.”
“You can’t tell Vander,” Claggor says. He’s picking at his nail beds.
“What’s going on?” Silco asks again, this time concerned. Claggor swallows.
“I’m afraid that there’s something wrong with me.” He confesses, his gentle, friendly face scrunched up against potential tears. “Vi and Mylo keep talking about the girls they like, and I don’t think I’ve ever liked anyone. Not girls, not guys, no one. That can’t be normal, right? Everyone has someone. Everyone wants someone.”
Silco shakes his head, looking up at his son’s distressed face. This is not something he’s had to think about. “Do you want someone, or do you just think that you should?”
Claggor shrugs. “Shouldn't I? All you and pop ever talk about is how transformative your love is. I'm pretty sure Zaun wouldn't be as developed as it is if you two weren’t together. I'm afraid of what I'll be if I don't start having crushes or whatever.”
Silco’s heart flops anxiously. What can he say here? his life is infinitely better because of loving Vander, they were destined to be together. But, even considering how far the good outweighs the bad, he wouldn't wish it upon someone else, not really. Not if they had the choice.
“Vander and I do have something special, but I’d like to think that the effect we have on each other would have happened even if we didn’t have a romantic connection. We are able to do good in the world because we work together. We could be doing that completely platonically.”
Claggor snorts. “If you say so,”
“I say,” Silco emphasizes, “That you don’t need a romantic connection to do something with yourself, with your future. If you don’t want it, why go looking for it?” Silco watches as Claggor takes the advice. He knows it’s not quite enough. What his son needs is someone like himself. Vander and Silco just don’t cut it this time. Maybe Silco will go through his contacts. Of all the people in Zaun, there must be someone who feels like Claggor does. Oblivious to his thoughts, Claggor sighs and turns back to the stove.
“Okay. Thanks, Silco. I’m gonna think about things. Enjoy your nap.”
Silco is not a man who is often lost for words, but that is the state he’s in now. He pats Claggor’s shoulder again. He’ll just have to find someone for Claggor to talk to. He’s not going to let him be upset by this for long, especially since there’s nothing actually wrong with him.
—
4. Ekko
Ekko is sitting on the counter, swinging his legs. He has an icicle in his hands, one of the few treats children in Zaun ever get. Silco is humming as he ties off the second batch of them. Usually Ekko prefers to spend time with Vander, when Benzo sends him over. Silco often suspects this is because Powder likes to sit at the bar and go over her engineering textbooks, or crouch beside Vander as he works on one of his projects. He’s constantly repairing something in their sagging old building. The bar sees enough traffic that there’s always something in need of fixing, at the very least, but this building has been here for generations before Vander and Silco took it over.
Silco wonders if Ekko knows exactly why he loves spending time with Powder. If he’s as oblivious as Silco was in his position, following the bright light of his best friend like a particularly stupid moth. The two of them are only 8, so they have some time to figure things out. The girl in question has just run off to get some tool or other for the project that is taking up Silco’s kitchen table. Ekko glances over at Silco, shy. Silco raises a brow.
“Mr. Silco?” Ekko says, big brown eyes pleading. Silco can’t imagine what he’s about to ask, since he literally has a treat in his hand. Maybe something about how Benzo hates him.
“Yes?”
“Um. Benzo says we’re all family.” Ekko says, low, as if it’s a secret. Silco nods, noncommittally. He’s not quite sure that Benzo was referring to him, specifically, as included in their family. Ekko glances at the door. “And I know you don’t like topside very much, but Benzo has a lot of Piltover books.”
“I’m sure he does,” Silco says, mystified. Is Ekko trying to get them into an argument?
“So he has this book about manners, and I read a lot of it. And, um.” He winces, then rushes to say, “I wanna marry Powder one day and the book says I have to ask her dad.”
Silco can’t help it, he laughs. It’s part relief, part surprise. Ekko’s hopeful face falls. “I apologize, Ekko, I’m not laughing at you.” Silco suppresses his smile through years of practice. “This is not Piltover, Ekko, so their manners have little purpose here. That is to say, I have no authority to give Powder over to you. You’ll simply have to win her heart the traditional way.”
Ekko ducks his head to hide an excited smile. Silco goes to put the icicles into the coldest part of the icebox, shaking his head.
“Why don’t you run along and help her with her project? I’m sure she’s gotten waylaid somewhere.”
“Okay!” Ekko hops down from the counter and darts out of the room. Silco takes a moment to laugh at the absurdity. At least he won’t have to worry about Powder having issues finding her partner.
—
5. Powder
Silco is humming as he strolls into the kitchen, heart set on his third coffee of the day. He stops short when he sees Powder posted up at the kitchen table with her hair and makeup kit. She raises an imperious eyebrow at him, bright eyes tracking his coffee mug.
“Coming to put that in the sink?” She asks, innocent. Curse Vander, he must have roped her into his campaign to lessen Silco’s caffeine intake.
“What’s all this?” Silco deflects, gesturing to the various paints and polishes spread across the table.
“Gonna see little man later,” Powder tells him, bashful.
“Mm. Hot date then, eh?” Silco begrudgingly places the mug in the sink, and walks over to the table to examine Powder’s handiwork. She’s missing her usual splash of color in the look, but Silco can tell she’s saving it for last.
“Don’t call it a date, he just invited me to blow some stuff up in the salvage yard.”
“Sounds like a date to me,” Silco jokes. “Besides, any time you spend alone together is a date if you like your partner enough.” He can’t help but smile at the thought of those two going on the same kinds of dates he and Vander went on in their youth. Blowing things up, getting into fistfights, doing petty theft up topside… It was a sweet courtship they had. “Don’t you dare go topside, Powder.”
“Dad, I go topside all the time for school, I’m not doing it on my days off.” Powder rolls her eyes and finally decides on sparkly purple for her eye shadow. She offers it to him with a little pleading pout. “And anyway, it’s not a date. You know Ekko doesn’t see me like that.”
Silco sits in the chair beside her, brow raised. He takes the offered compact and a blending brush and sets to work. “So I shouldn’t call him your partner? What are you children saying these days, then?”
“Dad, what are you talking about? Me and Ekko aren’t together.”
“You’re not?”
“No! He doesn’t like me like that.” Powder suppresses a distressed expression, but Silco recognizes the way her mouth twists.
“And you’re positive about that? He told you that himself?” Silco asks, setting the makeup aside so he can look her in the eyes properly. “With words?” Powder scoffs, all superior teenage derision.
“Not with words, no. But I can just tell. He thinks of me the same way he thinks of My or Claggor. Platonic.” She shrugs, playing at nonchalance. She misses the mark tragically.
“Beloved, no he doesn’t.” This is the boy who asked just last week to help him pick out a bouquet of flowers for her. He’d told her which ones she’d like but also advised to bring a book of new tools, or explosives. She’d come home the next day raving about his gift.
“I think I’d know if he liked me, Silly.” Powder says. She shrugs again, accompanied by a heavy sigh. “Will you please just do my eye shadow?” Silco hates seeing her in distress, but he knows there’s nothing to be fixed here. Those two will just have to work out the issue on their own. He can only hope it doesn’t take them as long as it did for him and Vander.