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The stare in Mickey's eyes when he has the gun pointed at his OWN Father...

(Fyi I am ALMOST done with this show!)

YALLLLLLLLLLLLLLL

"Not one of my strong suits" --- HE SAID THE FRACKING LINE FROM THE GAAAAAME!!! LIKE!! WTF???? AI IS GETTING SMARTER EVERYDAY I CANT!!!

As Long As It Takes

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AO3 link

Rating: Mature 

Tags: Silco x gn!reader, soft Silco, depression, grief, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort

Word count: 705

Beta Readers: none. we die like my will to do anything

Silco notices that you've been off. He comes to quietly reassure you as you rest.

A/N: Sorry for the absence. Let's just say the reader in this one-shot is semi-autobiographical. This one's short enough that I'm just going to post the whole thing here.

You've been sleeping a lot more.

You tell yourself it's just from overworking. That it's natural for you to sleep more when you're this drained. You're working longer, harder hours.

But you know that isn't it.

You nap more frequently, for longer periods of time.

You go to bed sooner.

Wake up later.

It's becoming a pattern.

And despite your best efforts to hide it, Silco—your partner—has noticed.

You're in his room, on his bed. The bed you've shared together since you started seeing each other. You still have your own apartment, but you stay at The Last Drop more often than not. 

This is where he finds you, laying on your side, your back to the door.

You hear the soft creak of the door’s hinges before a gentle, booted footstep. Then, another step before the door closes.

Silco says your name, voice barely above a whisper, not wanting to wake you if you're still asleep.

Your fingers cling to the pillow as you close your eyes, pretending to sleep. 

There's more footsteps as your partner makes his way around the bed, followed by the mattress groaning as he sits. You feel his weight sinking the bed next to you and keep your eyes closed.

Gently, he places his palm on your hip before letting out a deep exhale. 

“I won't pretend to know exactly what's going on,” he starts, “Nor that I have all the answers.”

You keep your eyes closed, focusing on his voice.

“But I know something is wrong,” he continues. “Don't think I haven't noticed—the way you retreat here immediately after your shift. The way you've stopped going out.”

He lets out another sigh. When he speaks, his voice seems a little further away, like he's turned his face away from you to look at the wall.

“I could lie to you: tell you it'll get better. But the truth is… sometimes it doesn't.”

Your lips pinch into a line as you feel a familiar sting growing behind your eyes. 

“It never really goes away. Grief. Depression. We don't… conquer it, so much as learn to live with it.”

You hear him shift and feel his gaze on your face without seeing it. 

“But just know—you don't have to go through this alone. I'll be here to listen when you're ready.”

The both of you stay like this for a moment. You, laying on your side, eyes resolutely shut. Silco, with his hand resting on your hip, mismatched eyes tracking across your face.

After a beat, the mattress squeaks as his weight leaves it. You feel his hand start to leave you and, in an instant, give yourself away as you grab his wrist.

He gives a small startled sound and you turn to look up at him.

“Please don't go,” you whisper, a tear forcing its way past your defenses. “Please stay.”

He looks at you with gentle eyes and gives you a small nod before sitting back down. As he does, both your hands move, fingers lacing together.

Your throat bobs and your eyes turn down, looking at the sheets to avoid his gaze.

“I'm not ready.”

When you dare look up at him, he answers by simply shaking his head.

“It's okay.” 

He leans down and brings his scarred lips to your temple. You melt a little into the touch, eyes fluttering closed at the warm contact. When he pulls away, it's a mere inch, his breath still in your hair as he whispers.

“I'll wait as long as it takes.”

You pinch your lips together, eyes still closed tight as you nod. 

At that, Silco shifts to move behind you. He maneuvers his way under the sheets, his arm wrapping around your waist. You feel him slot himself behind you, his chest pressed into your back as his legs perfectly fit behind yours. You cling to his arm, pulling him closer. 

He buries his face in your neck, taking in a deep breath before kissing you gently there.

And as you both drift off to sleep, you feel just a little bit more hopeful.

Maybe tomorrow will be a little bit better.

How bad could it really be?

When you have Silco?

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