Arcane headcanons | °• Silco •°

He finds you crying

• The door creaks open, and Silco steps into the dimly lit room, exhaustion evident in his movements. His coat is draped over one arm, the weight of his day palpable, but his steps falter when he hears the faint sound of muffled sobs.

• He freezes for a moment, his sharp gaze scanning the room until it lands on you curled up on the couch, your back to him. Your shoulders shake, and the sound of your crying pierces through the usual quiet of the space.

• Silco’s expression hardens—not with anger, but with a sense of urgency. He places his coat on the armrest with deliberate care before crossing the room, his boots making barely a sound on the floor.

• “Love,” he says softly, his voice devoid of its usual edge. He kneels beside you, his hands hovering just above your form, hesitant for a brief second before resting gently on your arm.

• You flinch at the sound of his voice, quickly trying to wipe away your tears, but he doesn’t let you hide. His hand shifts to your chin, tilting your face toward him, and his sharp eyes narrow as they take in your tear-streaked cheeks and red, puffy eyes.

• “What’s happened?” he asks, his tone quieter now but still firm, his thumb brushing against your cheek to catch a stray tear.

• You shake your head, trying to look away, but his grip is steady, unyielding. “Don’t,” he murmurs, his voice almost a plea. “Don’t shut me out.”

• The dam breaks, and you spill everything—how overwhelmed you’ve been, how you feel like you’re failing, how the weight of it all became too much. Your words are broken, barely coherent through your sobs, but he listens intently, his eye never leaving yours.

• When you’re finished, he doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, he pulls you into his arms, guiding you to rest against his chest. His embrace is firm, almost possessive, as if shielding you from the world.

• “You don’t have to carry this alone,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Whatever it is, you tell me. Always.”

• His hand moves to your back, stroking slow, soothing circles as you cling to him. He presses his cheek against your hair, and though his breathing remains steady, there’s an unspoken tension in the way he holds you, as if he blames himself for your pain.

• “You’re stronger than this,” he whispers, his voice rough but not unkind. “But even the strong break, my dear. It doesn’t make you weak—it makes you human.”

• You nod weakly against his chest, your tears soaking into his shirt, and he lets you take your time, his presence solid and grounding.

• After a while, he tilts your chin up again, his thumb brushing away the remnants of your tears. “Look at me,” he says, his gaze soft but unrelenting. “You’re not alone. Understand that.”

• When you nod again, his lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile, though it’s tinged with sadness. He presses a kiss to your forehead, lingering there as if trying to convey everything he can’t put into words.

• Silco stays with you the rest of the night, his hand never leaving yours. Even as you fall asleep against him, his gaze remains watchful, his mind racing with plans to ensure you never reach this breaking point again.