Chapter Text
Growing up at the limit of Piltover, you had seen way too much of the misery from the undercity. It pained you every time you saw skinny children having to steal in the hopes of having just a little food, going back to their parents all covered in dust and soot, coughing after a long day in the mines. Every time you passed by the bridge, you could see the pain, the hunger, the fear. Of course, everyone topside would tell you to enjoy your legacy, to feel grateful for how healthy you were, for the books you could read, the knowledge that was in your reach. They wanted you to follow the norm, to lead a life of luxury, having a well paying job and a topsider husband. But the more you saw the Zaunites get sicker, more hungry, the more you swore to yourself that you would try your best to make sure soon enough all of them would be at least a little more healthy and safe, even if it meant you would die trying, or would be an outcast in your own city.
When you turned eighteen, you first thought being an enforcer would be your mean to help the poor but as you managed to spend more and more time in the undercity, wrapped in a big cloak that hid most of your features, blending in, you noticed that the Zaunites feared the enforcers, hated them. As weeks were passing, you felt more and more powerless. And soon, weeks turned to a few years. But you never lost hope.
And there you stood, in front of the result of all your hard work and sleepless nights. It had taken quite a toll on your savings but you had opened a café. Not some random café though. After every day, you would offer a small but nourishing meal to every miner and their family. Aside from the main room filled with cheap wood tables and chairs, there was also a smaller room you wanted to turn into a classroom at some point but it still laid empty. It wasn't much, as soon as your parents found out about your little project they had cut all your funds and what little money you had left after opening the café would be used to buy groceries and fill the very mediocre apartment you had set upstairs.
Never the less, in a short period of time, the word had spread about your little project and every day, you were greeted by the smiles of the people coming and going. It made this adventure worth every sacrifice you had made.
A smile on your lips, you opened the door to your café and quickly got to work. Your regular miners soon came flooding in, getting a quick coffee and chit chat before they had to go make some hard earned money. The same routine was unfolding before your eyes : make the coffee, get pastries, cash in, make the coffee, get pastries, cash in. You'd think it would become boring in no time but you liked how your days were going. But deep down, it wasn't' enough. Not when the kids outside were still too skinny, still working when they should just be kids. At times, you would watch a lad scribble in a worn out sketchbook and it makes you wish you could do more. Teach them to read, to write, tell them about history, about science. Of course, they most definitely didn't care about that, studying doesn't put food on the table. It was all luxury for them. And yet, a full head could do so much more for the future of Zaun.
Lost in yet another mental rant about how little you can do, you're surprised by a soft feminine voice calling out your name and almost burn yourself with the coffee you were making. Looking up, you see a purple haired woman smile gently at you.
"Oh Felicia! Sorry I was lost in my thoughts" you exclaimed, quickly steaming some milk to get her usual drink, a flat white with a pump of hazelnut syrup. "I'll get your order ready right away !"
"It's fine, really" the graceful woman replied. "I'm not in a hurry anyway, I'm not set to work for another hour. Besides, I wanted to catch up with how your little project is going. It may be the future of the great nation of Zaun blossoming in your little head !"
You giggle a little as you hand her her coffee, glancing at the now empty room. "It's not that much" you say.
"You're feeding half of Zaun, Y/N. No one else would even think of doing that." She takes a sip of her coffee, smiling with contentment. "You're getting very good at this, I should really get my two favorite bozos here someday."
You tilt your head, curious about her statement, but she's already back sipping her coffee, looking through the window of your shop. Sighing, you pick up a rag and start cleaning the tables, your gaze getting lost yet again on the children playing outside. As you finish cleaning and start reorganizing the supplies behind the counter, Felicia gestures at the door leading to the empty would-be classroom in the corner or the room.
"Still not filling that up ?"
"How could I even do that ? I'm already busy with the café and it's not like I have the financial means to recruit staff right now" you sigh, making yourself your favorite coffee.
"Give it time, Y/N. Great projects don't blossom in a day. Besides, unless you're a topsider, you already have enough on your plate feeding all the miners and their families for barely a dime."
For a very short second doubt settles on your face as your eyes scan Felicia's face for any sign of knowledge about your upbringing, quickly replaced by a grin when she smiles at you, clueless about your small secret.
"As if a topsider would even care about our little lives here" you laugh. But deep down, your heart aches, knowing full well you are indeed the only one who seems to care about the undercity. "Now miss, you should finish your coffee before it cools down."
"Eager to see me leave, are you ?"
"Very much yes"
The two of you burst out laughing. She then gulps the remnants of her coffee and sets her empty cup on the counter, reaching for her purse.
"Don't you even think about it, Felicia"
"Come on, Y/N, at this rate even the sex workers at Babette's are better paid than you" she pleads, handing you a few coins.
Before you can say anything, she puts them on the counter and leaves, giving you a big wave as soon as she's out the door. Carefully, you set the money in the cashier, sighing in relief as the quiet takes place again.
The end of the day is always when the café is the busiest. Thankfully, most people were off-duty miners coming for their well deserved meal so you didn't really have to switch between the coffee machine and the stove too much. Nevertheless, it feels as if whenever you set a plate down, you have to make three more. With just an ounce of stress visible on your face, you still cook a small meal for every single of your clients, like you've been doing for the past three months now. The big rush takes a little more than two hours before it quiets down a little. Still busy with washing the plates after all the rush, you barely hear the door opening and closing. Maybe, just maybe, you should invest in some bells, or even better, an employee. Well, if only you had the money. Felicia was right, you wouldn't be able to keep going much longer at this rate. You sigh heavily, briefly considering going to Piltover, showing your progress to your parents in the hopes they would finally see your point and help just a little.
They wouldn't care anyways, I shouldn't bother them
Still thinking, too focused on the plate you're holding in your hands, you don't notice two sets of eyes on your neck. Not until you hear someone cough a little, making you jump and almost throw the freshly rinsed porcelain in your grip. Turning you head, still a startled look splashed across your face , you spot two men sat at a table, patiently waiting for you to be done with your tasks. The biggest of them, and probably the one who coughed judging by the faint layer of soot in his neck that he probably missed when freshening up, notices he has your attention and offers you a warm smile. The man in front of him barely lifts his head from whatever he is scribbling in his notebook, a long strand of hair hanging free from his tight bun, blue-grey eyes locked on the pages. The first finally comes to the counter to order, warm smile still plastered on his face.
"A simple black coffee and ..." he turns to the other man. "Silco, what was it again?"
The other one lets out a quiet sigh, still not raising his head from his notebook.
"It's a Machiatto , Vander."
"Right, what he said" Vander says back to you, an apologetic smile on his face.
"Coming right up" you say, pulling two cups from the shelf.
Vander walks to stand behind his friend and pulls at the hair tie holding his bun, grinning all the while and sitting back on his chair. Silco sighs yet again, putting his pen down and glaring at Vander as he snatches his hair tie from his broad hand, his skillful hands gliding through his hair. The scene looks very absurd to you and you can't help but giggle. And that's when Silco really looks at you, still skillfully remaking his bun.
Don't stare Y/N, You'll seem suspicious
But in a way, it's almost hypnotic how such a distinguished man with delicate hands is tying his hair, eyes locked with yours all the while. Thankfully, your coffee machine reminds you of it's existence as it blows a big cloud of steam right next to your hand.
"Dammit" you grunt, already forgetting about the two while you fix your machine and finish the coffees. You put the cups on a board and walk to them, finally giving them the holy beverages. The two of them thank you and you turn to walk away.
"Damn Silco, that's really elaborate. Feeling uptight now?" Vander glances at his friend's drink, raising an eyebrow in consternation.
"You just don't have a taste my friend" Silco's eyes dart at you, and suddenly you know it means business.
You tense as you watch him stir his coffee, eyes still locked on you. He takes a sip, puts back his cup on the table and crosses his fingers, now his attention all on you. His eyes shooting daggers as an all too knowing look settles on his face.
"So, Y/N. Care to explain how you pay for all these lunches?"
And in your head as well as in his eyes, in Vander's concerned face and in your gut, everything screams the same word, almost dirty, as an insult meant to stab you right in the heart.
Topsider.