The irony wasn’t lost on you.

The way Silco’s gaze lingered on you in this world, warm and full of unspoken affection, stood in stark contrast to the way he’d looked at you in your timeline—cold, sharp, and laced with a hatred that still gnawed at your soul.

Here, Silco had no idea you were the one who delivered him to his death in that other life. No idea that you were the catalyst for the chaos that consumed Zaun after his fall.

In this timeline, time had done its work. It had healed old wounds, softened sharp edges, and surrounded Silco with people who tempered his fire instead of feeding it. He seemed… lighter. Kinder. Forgiving in a way the Silco you knew would never have been. That Silco had carried his grudges like armor, every slight a weapon forged in his mind. He would’ve never forgiven you, not in a hundred lifetimes—but apparently in this one.

But this Silco? This Silco made guilt creep beneath your skin, thorny and persistent. How could you reconcile the man before you—so deeply in love with you, if the way he looked and spoke was any indication—with the one you’d betrayed? This man, who made you feel like you belonged here, in his world?

You glanced around, taking in the Zaun of this timeline. It wasn’t the grim, suffocating Undercity you knew. No, this Zaun shimmered like Piltover itself, a place of progress and promise.

And yet, his affection only deepened the fracture in your heart. His eyes met yours again, filled with a tenderness so foreign it almost hurt. It felt like a gift you didn’t deserve, a truth that belonged to someone else—a better version of you, in a better world.

“You’ve gone quiet,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “What thoughts have you trapped yourself in now, hmm? I’ve seen that look before. Dangerous, whatever it is.”

His fingers reached out to brush a stray hair behind your ear. He was gentle, too gentle. “You’re here, not wherever your mind is trying to drag you. Stay.”