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Welp...first post ever.

Thought I'd try my fingers at drawing Sylus, from Love and Deepspace, for the first time. Including my MC to which he's holding. Or at least attempted to make it look like...

Anyway, to the celebratory day(s) of Sylus' birthday, here is this.

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HEYYY can i please request LADS men when you sleep on the couch after a heated argument

LaDS men when you sleep on the couch after an argument

pairings: LaDS men x Reader(separate)

content: hurt/comfort, arguments

a/n: these are so long idk what possessed me

Xavier

You tried to just keep it a casual conversation, bringing up how you still felt like he was keeping things from you at times, like he still didn’t trust you with everything after you two have been together for so long but with how he kept his answers short and clipped, his expression as cool as always, trying to change the topic, things started to get more heated.

You didn’t like how he was brushing you off again.

“See this is exactly what I’m talking about, Xavier.”

His lack of response was really getting to you.

He stays expressionless, you keep saying things trying to get a reaction out of him but he doesn’t falter.

On the inside, he feels regret and seeing you angry at him upsets him, too.

“Fine. Whatever, be that way.”

He doesn’t feel relieved when you walk out of the bedroom, but he just doesn’t know what to say to make you feel better.

He follows after you, going into the bedroom, he freezes when he sees you grab the sheets and your pillow.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m sleeping on the couch, Xavier.”

You try to slip past him but he doesn’t let you,

“No, you’re not.”

You stare up at him and seeing the usual affection replaced with anger hurts him.

“Please, don’t.”

“I’m mad, Xavier. I don’t want to sleep with you tonight.”

The tremble in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed,

“I can’t sleep without you next to me. And I know you feel the same way.”

You try leaving again but he just won’t let you,

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t want to see you right now.”

You notice the hurt in his eyes and you feel kinda bad but you can’t back down now, right?

He nods but still doesn’t step aside,

“I’ll sleep on the couch then. You take the bed.”

Your shoulders slump, seeing as he resembles a sad bunny.

“Fine.”

You say and turn around, trying not to let this feeling get to you. You put your things back on the bed and hear him leave the room.

Confusion overtakes your features, why didn’t he take his stuff? You wait a minute and walk out after him, after some hesitation.

As you quietly go back into living room, you see him lying on the couch, no blanket, no pillow, eyes closed.

“Xavier, go get your things. You’ll catch a cold.”

He doesn’t open his eyes as he speaks again,

“It’s what I deserve. I upset you.”

Your mouth falls open at that, the ridiculousness of his behaviour almost makes you break out into a laugh. Almost.

“Xavier, even if I’m mad at you, I don’t want you to be cold and uncomfortable the whole night.”

He cracks one eye open, looking at you.

“But I want to be cold and uncomfortable for making you mad.”

You sigh, trying to fight the smile that’s making its way onto your face,

“You’re unbelievable.”

He’s looking at you with both eyes now, noticing the tension dissipate. Xavier props himself up,

“I’m sorry.”

You know he got you once you walk over and sit down on the couch next to him,

“I know.”

Reaching out with your hands to brush through his hair,

“And you know that I’ll forgive you once I wake up.”

He leans into your touch, testing the waters by lying his head in your lap.

“Thank you. But please don’t make sleep without you. I won’t intrude on your space, I just need to know that you’re still here.”

Scratching his scalp a defeated groan leaves your mouth,

“Go into the bedroom. I’ll be right there.”

His lips curl upwards, he begrudgingly lifts his head off your lap. He lingers, not getting up from the couch yet. You can guess why and knowing he needs the comfort just as much as you do, after everything that was said, you lean over and press a soft kiss to his forehead. A relieved hum forms in the back of his throat.

He then gets up, not trying to push his luck.

Xavier knows your feelings are valid and he would never want you to feel like they aren’t.

He doesn’t always handle things the right way but nothings more important to him than making it up to you. He’ll fix this, he’ll show you how much he truly trusts you.

Rafayel

You didn’t mean to leave him waiting, again.

Wondering where you are, if you’re okay and why you weren’t answering your phone.

This morning, you texted him, letting him know about today’s mission.

An emergency, there wasn’t much time and you had to get going now. You promised to come see him and call once you were back.

Rafayel kept himself busy all day, he noticed how you didn’t read his text, telling you to stay safe.

You also didn’t read any of his follow up texts and as the hours passed and there was still no answer from you, he started to feel anxious.

It was getting late, the sun setting soon.

He tried to call you and when it went straight to voicemail, he couldn’t help the concern clawing at him.

You should be done by now. You said you’d call him, once you were back. So, what was wrong?

-

It was dark out now, you had finally wrapped everything up.

Your phone had died in the middle of the mission, as soon as you had gotten back to the HQ you left it to charge.

You knew Rafayel was probably worried but you had texted him this morning, it shouldn’t be too bad. Or so you hoped.

Bidding your farewells to your coworkers, you left the association’s building, finally turning your phone back on.

The wall of missed calls and messages from Rafayel didn’t help your conflicted heart.

You tried to call him back, he wasn’t picking up.

You tried once, twice, it just kept ringing and ringing.

As you finally arrived at his art studio, you noticed the gate was closed.

Confused, you unlocked it and walked to the door.

You were thinking of how to apologise him, you didn’t mean to leave him hanging all day but it’s not like you did it on purpose.

Walking into his home, you saw him painting in the living room, back turned to the door.

“Hey, I’m back.”

You said quietly, placing your keys on the table, waiting for a reaction from your boyfriend.

You expected him to pout, whine, be upset but you were surprised, when… nothing came.

No reaction, he didn’t even turn around.

You approached him slowly, not knowing what to do.

“I’m sorry, Rafayel. My phone died and the mission turned out to be more difficult than expected. I left as soon as I got to the association.”

Usually, he’d be talking to Reddie now, acknowledging your presence in some way or another, making sure you know he was upset.

But still, nothing.

He just kept painting.

No hum, no change in his movements, no looking over.

You sighed, you knew you messed up but the least he could do was talk to you about it.

“Look, I know I should’ve been more careful, made sure my phone was charged or given you more details. I didn’t know, though. So, can we please just-“

“Just what?”

The first time he spoke since you’ve arrived and he still wasn’t looking at you.

“What do you expect me to do now? Throw myself into your arms, crying?”

You were taken aback by his tone,

“No, I didn’t mean-“

He cut in again, voice steady, words sharp,

“This isn’t the first time, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. Am I supposed to lose my mind everytime you pull something like this? It’s not like you keep your word, anyway.”

The accusation hung heavy in the air and you were trying to deal with this as sensibly as possible but he was making this increasingly more difficult.

“Rafayel, you know how my job is. I’d never ignore you on purpose. I kept you waiting and I’m sorry, I really am. But sometimes, there just isn’t anything I can do.”

A scoff escaped him and you could feel a headache forming. You were expecting him to follow up, come up with a retort, tell you how disappointed he was but he just went silent again.

You felt tired, your eyelids heavy and you simply didn’t have the emotional maturity to deal with this appropriately right now.

You went to get changed, as you were leaving the room, you heard him mumble something under his breath,

“As expected.”

You halted, standing still for a moment before turning back around,

“What was that? If you have something to say, speak up.”

You crossed your arms and he finally looked up at you, gaze completely void of emotion.

“Not like you care, anyway.”

Your eye twitched at that,

“I understand if you’re upset but if you’re not willing to talk to me like an adult, I can’t help you. If you want to act like a child, be my guest.”

An ironic laugh left him at that and his eyes went back to his painting,

“Im the one acting like a child?”

“I don’t have the energy to deal with this right now, Rafayel. I have to do my job, grow up.”

You spun around on your heel to actually leave the room this time, when you heard rustling behind you, he was getting up.

He grumbled under his breath again,

“Didn’t know being a hunter meant you have to ghost your boyfriend.”

You clenched your teeth at his condescending comment but decided to not dignify him with a response.

You quickly walked into your shared bedroom, changing into your PJs.

Finally catching a glimpse of yourself for the first time today, you looked rough.

Thinking about how Rafayel still treated you so harshly, after seeing the state you were in.

Impulsively, you grabbed your pillow and your blanket and stormed into the living room.

He wasn’t there anymore, probably having gone to the bathroom to get ready for bed as well.

You settled down on the couch, you knew you were acting petty but you just didn’t want to put up with his attitude tonight.

You laid on your side, back turned to the room, when you heard the bathroom door open.

Rafayel’s steps were loud, you could feel his eyes on you as he came to a stop. The urge to turn heavy but you refused to budge.

He inhaled sharply, you could hear him mumble something under his breath again but couldn’t make out what he was saying, even if you could’ve, you were done arguing.

When you still didn’t hear him move, you turned around, seeing him standing in the middle of the room.

He looked hurt, making eye contact with you but not saying anything else.

He turned around, walking into the bedroom.

You heard the door click shut and a feeling of hurt settled into your chest.

You laid awake for a while, tossing and turning, regret seeping in, you didn’t want to fight with him like this.

Soon, sleep found you.

Eyes falling shut, mind still stuck on the interaction with your boyfriend.

-

Your eyes fluttered open, taking in the darkness.

You wanted to rub your eyes, when you felt your left hand being engulfed by something warm and heavy.

As you looked over, you immediately noticed the mop of purple hair being on eye level with you.

The scene in front of you made a lump form in your throat;

Rafayel was sitting on the floor, one hand holding onto yours, face resting again the couch.

His long legs were crossed and his posture was atrocious, you knew he’d wake up sore like this.

Him setting his pride aside, seeking you out in your sleep, made your heart race, even after how he was acting earlier.

You knew he was trying to hurt you both in an attempt to put his walls back up, he was scared for you.

There was nothing he feared more than losing you, you disappearing again. He didn’t want to wake up one day, finding out you were gone.

And you admittedly weren’t always making it easy for him.

Your other hand reached out and ruffled his hair,

“You idiot…”

You got up to the best of your ability, with him still gripping your wrist, sitting down next to him.

You managed to wrap him up in the blanket as well as you could, pressing your head into his shoulder.

You two would make amends once he woke up.

You couldn’t help but press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

Zayne

You’ve been buried in work lately, barely having time for yourself. No time to cook meals, so you’ve been relying on take out. Coming home so late from work makes you feel like you’re not making the most of your day, so in turn you stay up late, watching shows, playing games, trying to keep up with your boyfriend’s schedule.

Zayne has been trying to be lenient, he doesn’t want to tell you what to do and what not to do but he could see how your unhealthy habits have been getting worse and how it’s wearing down your condition.

Once he brings it up, he’s objective, neutral, speaking as your doctor, not your boyfriend.

When you try to reason with him and explain how those little acts may be unhealthy but they’re the only comfort you have in the midst of so much work.

You promise him, these habits aren’t here to stay and once you have enough breathing room again, you’ll go back to doing all those things he puts so much emphasis on.

He’s unimpressed, urging you to rethink. You know it comes from a place of concern, he’s telling you these things out of love but it simply feels so belittling.

You’ve been so overwhelmed and he’s seen firsthand how badly you need some understanding more than you need health advice.

Seeing how he doesn’t back down, you start to feel irritated. He refuses to see things from your perspective and you refuse to back down now.

The argument spirals as you call him out on not being much better,

“Overworked? Bold coming from you.”

His voice is steady and his words are harsh as he doesn’t pay much attention to your feelings,

“Yet I still make sure to get my nutrients. I also don’t spend my free time rotting away in front of a screen. You barely go outside during your time off.”

Zayne notices the hurt on your face a little too late,

“You’re my boyfriend before you’re my physician, Zayne. Act like it.”

His brows furrow at that, not responding.

He leaves the room before this could escalate any further, telling you to calm down first, which naturally sets you off even more.

You weren’t done with this conversation but realising he won’t continue you this, you decide to back off.

You’re mad at him and you’re going to show him.

While he’s in the bathroom, you grab your things from the bedroom and bring them over to the couch.

After he’s done getting ready for bed, he walks out and sees you sprawled out on the couch, cuddled up with your pillow, clinging onto it, the way you usually would to him.

He lets out a sigh, he can’t see your face, but that sound aggravated you even more.

Zayne sits down next to you, you don’t look at him.

“Do we have to do this?”

You don’t answer, he stills for a moment before getting back up.

Your lips tremble, seeing how quickly he gave up but to your surprise he comes back with his own blanket and pillow in hand.

“It’s going to get cramped. But I don’t mind, if you insist on sleeping here.”

“Zayne, I wanna sleep alone.”

He shakes his head, putting his things down next to yours.

“We might’ve disagreed but I don’t want the day to end like this. If you don’t want to talk to me right now, that’s fine. But don’t push me away, please.”

You stay silent at first, not knowing what to say.

Your heart feels a little warmer,

“Almost forgot you can be thoughtful, after all.”

He chuckles at your snarky comment, showing he’s not irritated.

You push your pillow lower, making your eyes visible to him.

Your eyebrows are still furrowed but he can tell your gaze softened.

You turned away and scooted over, making some space for him.

He took the hint and laid down next to you.

You’re lying in the dark, breathing slowly, starting to miss your boyfriend even tho he’s right next to you.

It’s not like you enjoyed fighting with him, especially with how apathetic he could be when he thought he was right.

You knew he didn’t say any of those things with malice, he was worried and that was his way of expressing it.

Unable to sleep due to the emotional and slight physical distance to your boyfriend, the thoughts running through your mind and the tiny couch you were sharing with your freakishly tall partner, you opened your eyes again.

“Zayne?”

You whispered, being quiet in case he had already fallen asleep.

He hummed in response and you shimmied back a bit, wanting to feel him,

“I don’t want to fight anymore…”

He shuffled, wrapping one arm around your waist loosely, not wanting to overstep,

“I’m glad. Me neither.”

His voice was low, not disturbing the quiet.

“Do you think we could go back to the bedroom?”

You heard him exhale a laugh,

“If you’d like to.”

You nodded, still not turning around.

Before you could say anything else, Zayne spoke up again,

“I’m sorry. I overstepped earlier. I have no right to tell you what to do. However, I only want the best for you, even though I might not be the best at expressing that at times.”

You turned around, looking up at him in the dark, and he was still able to make out your features,

“I’m sorry, too. I wasn’t willing to hear you out at all.”

“The same goes for me. I wasn’t offering solutions, I was just lecturing you.”

Leaning your head against his chest, you snuggled closer,

“Honestly, you had some valid points. I should spend more time with you whenever I finally have some free time.”

Zayne cradled your head,

“Don’t feel forced to. I just think I could make you food whenever you home, you don’t have to get junk food. In hindsight, there’s nothing wrong with indulging once in a while.”

You nodded,

“Yeah, sounds like a good plan.”

The two of you basked in each other’s presence like this for a little while longer, before Zayne dragged you back to bed.

His main priority is looking after you, his love for you is unrivalled but he’s still new to all of this, he’s trying.

Caleb

You and Caleb rarely fought.

Ever since you were younger, Caleb was always willing to bend to your whims.

He’d always back down and let you have your way.

Whether it’d be about who got to go first in a game, who got to sit in the passenger seat of the car or who had to clean up after playtime.

The older you two got, the more serious your fights became at times but Caleb would still back down, wait for you to let your anger out at him.

Obviously, whenever he could, he’d try to mediate.

He never wanted to fight with you, it was the worst.

There was this irrational fear in his mind, that whenever you were mad at him, you’d leave, hating him, never wanting to see him again.

He knew it was stupid, unrealistic but he much preferred your loud anger, yelling at him, staring him in the face, not turning away and ignoring him.

It was the same reason he’s never truly been angry at you.

Yeah, he’s been irritated because of careless things you’ve done but that comes from a place of concern.

He loves you too much, feels too much for you to ever show his anger, however that doesn’t mean the mask doesn’t slip sometimes.

Still, he wouldn’t keep arguments going.

He’d serve as an outlet for your anger, he’d let you get everything off your chest and whenever he wanted to bring something up that bothered him, he’d do it in a way you wouldn’t notice his true feelings.

So, whenever it did come to an argument, you knew it was serious to him. But you simply weren’t used to having him not agree with you, especially because you knew you were in the right about this.

Well, so you’d say, if you could recall what “this” was.

You don’t even remember what the fight was about, you two have just been spiralling from one thing to the other for a while now. The tension was starting to become unbearable.

Especially because Caleb was doing what he’s always done, taking whatever you throw at him and just accepting it.

He’s willing to be the bad guy in your eyes, as long as it meant keeping you safe.

And you were starting to grow sick of it.

Caleb would never raise his voice at you, he’d never intentionally do anything that could hurt you, whether it be emotionally or physically.

A stark contrast to how you’ve been shouting at him for the past 20 minutes.

Everything was so different now, it was like you were both speaking a different language. Not like when you two were kids, not when it felt like it was you and him against the world.

You didn’t want him to just stand there and take it while standing his ground, insisting he knew better than you.

It was starting to drive you crazy, so the next thing you knew, was you angrily stomping out of the room.

Caleb stood in the living room, unmoving.

Replaying the argument in his mind, trying to think of where he went wrong.

As he was standing there, starting to wallow in self pity, you returned.

He was thinking of how to solve the situation, when he noticed the blanket and pillow you were holding.

You waltzed straight past him, plopping down on the couch, fluffing up your pillow in silence.

“Pipsqueak, c’mon.”

Not looking at him, still preparing your newly decided sleeping spot, you answer,

“We’ll talk in the morning. I don’t wanna be near you right now.”

His eyes widened slightly, moving towards you but keeping his distance, as to not set you off more.

“I understand that but I don’t want you to go to sleep upset.”

At that, you paused for a moment, fingers hovering over the pillow you were still adjusting, before you collected yourself and went to busy your hands again,

“It’s a little late for that.”

You heard a thud near you and you quickly looked up, worried.

You saw Caleb on his knees in front you, head hanging low,

“I’m sorry. You’re rightfully upset but please, let me fix this.”

You sighed, lying down.

“Caleb, go to sleep. We’re not doing this right now.”

Once he looked up at you, you felt your resolve waver. Just why did he have to resemble a kicked puppy so much?

You turned around, not letting your wet dog of a boyfriend get to you.

“Okay, I love you. Sleep well.”

He said but he got up really slowly, hoping you’d change your mind after all.

He went into your shared bedroom, leaving the door open behind him.

Caleb tried to sleep, he really did but he’s been laying awake for the past two hours.

It felt wrong to sleep without you in his arms. The right side of the bed shouldn’t be cold; you shouldn’t be away from him, especially after such a long time apart.

He didn’t want you to be mad at him, he didn’t even want to fight with you but you were just so stubborn.

Why couldn’t you just see he was trying to protect you?

He stopped his train of thought, knowing it was just putting him in a worse mood.

Surely, you were asleep by now, right?

And you’ll have cooled off by the time you woke up.

So, you definitely wouldn’t blame him if he joined you on the couch, would you? He just missed you so much, he couldn’t sleep without you.

He quietly walked into the living room, not wanting to wake you up.

When he saw you there, lying all by yourself, he felt something in his chest tighten.

It made him feel like he was a little boy again, like you were right here but so far out of his reach.

So, fragile and vulnerable, like if he touched you, you’d break, disappear.

He was pulled out of his thoughts, when you mumbled quietly in your sleep,

“…caleb, don’t..”

He couldn’t make out what else you were saying, but you were thinking like him, even in your sleep.

He never wanted you to go to sleep upset.

He slid in under the covers with you, wrapping his arms around you.

He couldn’t stand being away from you too long, he needed to make sure you were real, that you were with him.

And with that thought, he finally managed to drift off to sleep.

Sylus

This was the angriest you had ever been at Sylus.

He prided himself on being a man of his word, keeping all his promises, especially the ones he made to you.

So, when he showed up again after 4 days, you were making sure he knew how mad you were.

He had promised you, he wouldn’t repeat what happened with Tulla Island.

He wouldn’t disappear without saying anything, he wouldn’t leave you wondering whether he was dead or alive, but that’s exactly what he did.

He send you a cryptic message the morning of, not answering when you tried to figure out what he meant.

Mephisto was still around, but he was no help either.

So, when you decided to pull up to the base 2 days in, having Luke and Kieran explain to you, that your boyfriend had to leave on urgent business that they couldn’t elaborate on, you felt many things at once.

You’d been seething until he showed back up, acting like nothing happened.

“You promised, Sylus.”

He was sitting, while you were pacing around the bedroom, anger evident in your voice.

“This time was different. I didn’t leave without a trace. You ended up asking the twins, no?”

You stopped in your tracks, looking at him in outrage,

“And they were no help at all! I didn’t know where you were, I didn’t know what you were up to, actually, I still don’t know!”

He was trying to be understand and pragmatically approach the situation but you weren’t putting up with this.

“Sylus, you’re not listening to me at all. How many more times are you planning on pulling something like this?“

He raised a brow at you, having a hard time hiding his amusement, you thought he was mocking you, when in reality he felt relieved to know you cared about him so much,

“This isn’t much different from you leaving for your missions. You don’t tell me where you’re going, either.”

You crossed your arms,

“You can’t be serious. You can utilise your stupid resources and figure out where I am, you find a way everytime. It’s either Mephie showing up or you! How is that fair?”

He propped his chin up on his palm, looking at you with hooded eyes,

“Those resources are open to you, too, sweetie. What’s mine is yours. Besides, don’t you know the saying? Where there’s a will, there’s a way. Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough.”

You couldn’t deal with his sarcasm, not when you’d been worried for the past four days, wondering if he was alright, whether this was his way of disappearing out of your life after all, still feeling the anxiety you had the last time this happened.

The smugness on his face was just pissing you off more.

“Can’t you be considerate of my feelings for once? Is it fun to you to see me suffer like this? Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with you.”

You knew you didn’t mean any of the things you just said, he knew you didn’t mean any of it, he was always bending over backwards to accommodate you.

His love for you was unconditional and whenever he kept you in the dark, it was for your own sake.

But his usual teasing was just setting you off.

You were getting more animated by the second, the realisation of how you had been feeling for the past few these really settling itself in your mind.

Sylus was just silently watching, not saying anything but seems like that was also not quite the right choice, as his silence irritated you as well.

At some point, Sylus started answering. His patience started to run thin, while it would never run out when it came to you, he didn’t appreciate the tone you were using with him.

He stood up in the middle of your sentence, walking towards the door,

“What, so you’re just going to walk away now?!”

“Yes. Before either of us say something we’ll both regret.”

And with that, he was out of the door.

You watched, dumbfounded.

Your firsts clenched, you felt like he wasn’t taking you seriously.

He was definitely underestimating your level of pettiness.

-

Sylus had left your apartment, thinking of how to make it up to you.

He understood why you felt the way that you did and he never meant to leave you worried but sometimes ignorance was bliss.

Admittedly, his business ended up taking longer than expected.

He originally wanted to be back sooner, before you even knew it but things played out more complicated.

Still, you should know he was essentially undefeated.

There was nothing, that could stop him from coming back home to you.

So, coming back to just to see you hurt like this, because of him, made his heart break.

He also didn’t dislike your angry side, he liked seeing you give into your emotions, showing what you truly thought.

What he didn’t like, was seeing you talk yourself into a spiral without letting him get a word in.

He thought it would be for the best to leave you to cool off, while he tried to get back into your good graces.

Now, what he didn’t expect upon his return into your bedroom, was the emptiness on your side of the bed.

He walked into the living room with quick steps.

And there you were, in all your glory, hogging the entire couch, duvet, comforter, multiple pillows, plushies included.

You were on your phone, paying him no mind.

“What’s the big idea, kitten?”

You just hummed, turning to lay on your stomach, kicking your feet up in the air, tapping away on your phone,

“I’m mad at you, so I’m sleeping here tonight. Good night.”

The laugh he let out vexed you even more, and of course, he noticed that.

“That’s funny, sweetie. Come now, get up.”

When you didn’t move, the corners of his mouth curled up in an entertained smirk.

He walked over to you and stopped right next to the couch, towering over you.

“Don’t make me say it again, kitten.”

You didn’t miss the amused lilt in his voice.

You barely spared him a glance,

“Sylus, I don’t want to sleep in the same place as you tonight. You managed for the past four days, I’m sure you’ll be able to handle it today as well.”

He let out a huff,

“My, that’s too bad.”

You thought that meant, he’d leave you be, so imagine the surprised noise you let out, as he picked you up and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Sylus, you jerk! I’m not joking around with you!”

Sylus tightened his grip on you, as you started thrashing around,

“I know.”

Your escape attempts were futile, he carried you back into the bedroom and dropped you onto your bed,

“You can be mad at me, scream at me but you don’t get to avoid me. That won’t make things right.”

You jutted out your lower lip, feeling vulnerable all of a sudden,

“You don’t get to lecture me right now.”

You rolled over onto his side of the bed and hid under his covers.

The bed dipped, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him but not taking the blanket off your head,

“You’re right. But I don’t want the love of my life to feel even more alone than they already have for the past four days.”

You slowly lifted the blanket off your face, not looking up at him,

“Allow me to mend things between us.”

You scoffed,

“There’s nothing broken…”

“Then, let me show you just how much I adore you.”

Damn that smooth talker.

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Crédits artist @janechu1

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐂𝐂𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐎𝐅 𝐇𝐈𝐒

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

The soft melody from his expensive royal-looking piano had drawn you in. Xavier was elsewhere in the living room, probably asleep. You couldn’t resist pressing a few keys, trying to recreate the tune he’d played yesterday. As you leaned over to reach a higher note, your sleeve caught on several keys, and with a sickening crack, they snapped loose.

Your hands flew to your mouth. Three keys hung at awkward angles, completely broken from their moorings. The room suddenly felt too small, your heart pounding as tears welled in your eyes.

You heard his footsteps before you saw him in the doorway. His eyes widened slightly at your tears.

“I’m so sorry,” you blurted. “I was just—I didn’t mean to—” You couldn’t finish the sentence as your voice cracked.

“Why are you crying?” he asked. He walk towards you, then knelt beside you, hands gentle as he took the broken piano keys from your trembling fingers.

“The piano...” you managed. “I broke it... I’ll pay for repairs, I promise...” you stammered, wiping at your eyes.

Xavier glanced at the damaged instrument, then back to you. A small smile formed at the corners of his mouth as he sat beside you.

“It was an accident,” he said simply, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb, his warm palm cupping your face. His touch lingered there, gentle and reassuring.

“But it’s your piano,” you insisted.

“The keys were already weak,” he replied with a slight shrug. “It’s already old, and I’ve been meaning to replace it.”

When you still looked uncertain, he added, “I don’t want you to be upset. Things break, and it’s okay.”

The way he said it—so matter-of-fact yet somehow gentle—made you feel like the broken piano truly was insignificant to him. In Xavier’s quiet, straightforward way, he’d made it clear that your distress concerned him far more than any damaged items.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

The hospital had called Zayne in for emergency surgeries three nights in a row. When you woke up early on his rare day off and found him already at his desk in the home office, surrounded by patient reports, you decided breakfast was in order.

You pushed the door open with your hip, balancing a tray with coffee and toast, just as Zayne reached for a folder. Your foot caught on the edge of his rug, and before you could regain balance, hot coffee splashed across his desk—directly onto the stack of patient reports he’d brought home. Dark liquid seeped into what looked like hours of meticulous work.

“I’m so sorry!” Your voice pitched higher with panic, ignoring the stinging pain on your palms. “Zayne, I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean—” Your hands shook as you tried to salvage the papers, only smearing them further.

Zayne stood immediately, his chair rolling back. The stern lines of his face were there, but not directed at you.

“Stop,” he said firmly, holding your hands away, and taking the tray from your shaking hands and setting it aside before you dropped it too. “Leave the papers.”

Tears welled up despite your efforts. “Your reports, all your work... I just—I just ruined your day off... I’m really sorry…”

Zayne set the papers aside and surprised you by taking your warm hands in his, turning them over to examine your skin.

“Did you burn yourself?” he asked, his voice soft.

You shook your head.

“Good.” He guided you to sit in his chair. “These are just copies. I can print them again.”

“But—”

“No ‘but.’” His thumb stroked across your knuckles, a small gesture of affection that contrasted with his authoritative tone. “I keep digital backups of everything, so don’t worry. And don’t feel bad about an accident you couldn’t control.”

He leaned down, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead, then reached for his phone.

“The reports can wait. Let’s order some breakfast, and I’ll get us something to heal your palms.”

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

The afternoon sunlight streamed through Rafayel’s studio windows, casting a golden glow across his workspace. You’d come to surprise him with lunch since he often forgot to eat when absorbed in his art.

As you walked between tables covered with half-finished projects, your bag caught on something. You turned to see a delicate sculpture teetering on its pedestal—a twisted form of glass and clay that Rafayel had spent weeks perfecting. Your heart stopped as it fell, shattering against the floor with a sound that seemed to echo forever.

“Oh…! No, no, no,” you whispered, dropping to your knees. Your fingers trembled as you tried to gather the larger pieces, tears blurring your vision.

“What happened? I heard—” Rafayel’s voice cut off as he entered the studio. You looked up, seeing his expression shift as he took in the scene.

“Rafayel, I’m so sorry,” your voice broke as you continued frantically collecting shards. “I can find someone who can repair it, or—”

“Hey, hey, stop!” He crossed the room quickly, kneeling beside you. “Leave it. You’ll cut yourself.”

When you continued reaching for a particularly sharp piece, he gently captured your hands.

“Your art…” you said, tears now falling freely. “I broke it...”

“It’s just clay and glass,” he said, pulling you away from the broken pieces and into his arms. “I can make another whenever I want.”

“But this one was special—”

“Not as special as you are to me.” Rafayel’s arms tightened around you as he rested his chin on top of your head. “You’re going to hurt yourself on these pieces,” he whispered. He rocked you gently until your breathing steadied, then pulled back to wipe your tears with his thumb.

“Besides,” he added casually, “now I have an excuse to try that new technique I’ve been thinking about. I’ve been wanting to replace that one with something new anyway. Do you wanna see, cutie?”

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The wind through your hair, the purr of the engine between your legs—there was nothing like late-night rides on Sylus’s custom motorcycle. He’d let you borrow it occasionally, knowing how much you loved the freedom it gave you.

The evening ride had been your idea. “Just around the perimeter,” you’d suggested, and Sylus had agreed because honestly—what wouldn’t he do for you?

You didn’t see the oil slick until the bike suddenly skidded, then tumbled, throwing you clear but scraping across the pavement with a horrible screech of metal on asphalt. Pain shot through your arm as you landed hard.

He swore he’d never been so scared before. He just ditched his motorcycle and was at your side in an instant, his typically composed face taut with an emotion you rarely saw—fear.

“Don’t move,” he ordered, kneeling beside you, hands hovering as if afraid to touch you. “Where does it hurt?”

“The motorcycle—” you managed, tears forming as you looked at the mangled vehicle. Half the custom bodywork was destroyed, the handlebars twisted beyond recognition. “I’m so sorry—I’ll pay—I’ll—”

“Forget the motorcycle,” he snapped, voice sharp but hands gentle as they examined your scraped arm. He was mad at himself for letting the situation even happen.

You’d never seen him this shaken—Sylus, who always had a plan, who always remained calm and controlled.

“I shouldn’t have—” he cut himself off with a sigh before carefully helping you sit up. His fingers brushed your face, wiping away tears and examining you for injuries with tenderness. “I’m just glad the feisty kitten is all okay.” Sylus’s expression shifted to relief, though concern still lined his eyes.

“I’m sorry it got wrecked…” you whispered again.

“I have others,” he said dismissively. “Stop thinking about it.”

When he helped you to your feet, he kept his arm firmly around you, as if afraid you might vanish if he let go. The destroyed motorcycle lay forgotten on the road behind you as he carried you away to his own.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

The storage room in Caleb’s work room was cluttered with mementos from his piloting days. You were searching for an old photo album when your elbow knocked against something on a high shelf.

You turned just in time to see the model spacecraft—the intricate replica of Caleb’s first fighter that you’d given him last year—tumble and crash onto the floor. Pieces scattered everywhere, the delicate wings and engines breaking apart on impact.

Panic seized your chest as you dropped to your knees. Caleb had spent two days putting it together; you remembered how his face lit up with boyish excitement when you’d presented it to him. Now it lay in ruins.

Frantically, you gathered pieces, trying to fit them back together, but your shaking hands only made things worse. You were so focused on your desperate repair attempt that you didn’t hear the door open.

“Hey, what are you doing in—” Caleb’s voice cut off abruptly.

You looked up to see him staring at the broken model, he looked surprised but his gaze softened when your eyes met, and tears welled in yours as you held broken pieces in your trembling hands.

“I’m sorry…” you whispered, voice breaking. “I didn’t mean to—”

Before you could say more, he was on the floor beside you, pulling you on his lap, into a tight embrace. His arms were firm around you.

“Hey, hey, hey… it’s okay. It’s just a model,” he murmured against your hair, his voice steady and reassuring.

“But you worked so hard on it...”

He pulled back slightly, brushing tears from your face with a gentle thumb. His smile alone radiates comfort as he looks at you.

“Then we’ll build a new one together,” he said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “And I bet we can make this one even better.” He looked down at the pieces scattered around you both. “Maybe add some modifications here and there, what do you think?”

His warm laughter finally broke through your guilt, and he held you close as if the broken model was the furthest thing from his mind.

Based on this request.

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Tears of Joy

Word Count: 1.9k

Pairing: Sylus x fem!mc

Content Warning: Third person/no mention of Y/N or a name, angst/comfort, mentions of death, mentions of medical violence and blood, canon Sylus violence, making up Evol lore, probably butchering his story since I haven’t seen his myths (sorry), happy end

A/N: Just a concept I haven’t seen and thought it’d be interesting to write. There’s a poll at the end so you can vote on who you want next if Sylus isn’t ur jam (: I have all the scenarios mapped out already so I probably won’t wait till the polls end lol

Summary: what would happen if MC left before her time?

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They got her where she should have been safe. From when they finally were able to establish connection to now, where she was comfortable enough to sleep over at his base and use his money freely, she was anxious that the Association would catch wind she was “colluding with the enemy” as she said. He would just laugh at her comments and tell her it's nothing to worry about, but when he saw it affected her negatively, he obliged to stay away from the main building. 

When he surprised her by picking her up from work, he parked a couple blocks down the road on the way to the subway and scooped her up there. When he bought her a coffee, tea or flowers, it was signed with Skye. Anything to ease the tension she constantly complained about. 

—————

On a lazy day where he wasn’t too busy, Sylus realized he had not gotten the notification that she entered her apartment yet, despite it being almost an hour since she got off work. He currently had Mephisto on a reconnaissance mission instead of following his favorite Hunter so he shot off a quick text to ask if she was running errands. No response, but it was read. Odd.

By the second hour he was already out the door and on the way to the Association, despite her protests she always nagged him with. With his contacts he was able to deduce she was sent out on a group mission that was under the radar. No big deal, she was a top performer in UNICORNS so of course she would be given difficult and secret missions. 

What was odd was that she never mentioned it. She frequently disclosed information that was probably NDA protected to him like it was nothing, trusting he would keep it secret (he always did). But she didn't mention any new mission or ask him to stock up on snacks like she usually did so afterwards she could crash and relax after a difficult assignment. Everything about this felt off.

Trusting his gut, he hacked into the Associations mission database to see where she would have gone.He felt something twist in his gut when the report showed that the mission was half baked at best, showing holes in the planning and even execution stages. How was something like this signed off by Captain Jenna?  Even the names of her partners were mostly foreign to him, not ones he recognized as a part of the main task force of UNICORNS anyway.

He then tracked every single Association vehicle that left the building, taking note of the carry capacity of the cars and when they were reserved. One was obviously out of place, having been reserved only an hour before use, the mission it was stated to be used for was obscure, and there were four confirmed individuals using the car despite the report saying it was supposed to be a quick in and out mission. 

Sylus had enough. He sped off on his motorcycle, traffic laws be damned, in the general direction of where the car was reportedly going, pulling Mephisto and the twins from their current missions to rendezvous with him.

This could all be nothing, a bizarre reporting error that the Association let slide.

But since it concerned her, he wasn't taking any chances.

When he arrived in a secluded part of the city, the first thing he noticed was the uncharacteristic silence. As if the surroundings were holding its breath. He was used to the loud buzz and chaos of the N-109 Zone, so this was more than unsettling. It was on the outskirts of Linkon, still somewhat nice looking compared to areas in the N-109 Zone, but just enough wear and tear to discourage normal civilians from visiting.

A perfect place to hide.

Mephisto arrived just in time to start scanning the surroundings with his built-in infrared eyes. His mechanical companion was quickly able to find activity not far from where Sylus was standing in an unassuming gray building. He was on his way, quickly and silently, using his Evol to stifle noises and clearing a path for him. The hallways of the building were worn, stray wires peeking out of the ceiling and windows had bullet holes littered throughout. This was a base, presumably for tenebra.

What awaited him was something out of a horror story. As he looked into the room where Mephisto reported movement, his Evol moved faster than him. Blood covered the floor, the lights were too bright, sterile walls and tables out of place in the dilapidated building. And her, unmoving, tied down on a gurney.

Rage doesn't even begin to explain what Sylus felt the moment he stepped into the room. Red mist ripped through the air, surrounding the culprits in an instant as if the entire force of his draconic power was pouring out. Any living being caught was snuffed out, not even allowed to scream. What remained of their bodies were blown out of the now shattered windows, reduced to nothing but red ash. The entire building shuddered under the pressure, threatening to collapse in on itself. Even Mephisto steered clear, the waves of energy enough to overload his Protocore.

Her body was free of the belts holding her down and in his arms, but he could already tell she was far gone, rigor mortis just beginning to set in. Her wrists had bruises and her face has tear stains. Sylus felt as if he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.

There was a large, nasty cut on her chest, digging down to her heart. It was made with a blade that was not sharp enough, so whoever dared hurt her had to tear apart her chest to get to what they were after.

Her aether core was ripped from her body. 

It was in his hands after another second, away from the grimey floor, away from the greed that took it from her. It shined brightly, its energy still intact. He felt as if he couldn’t breathe, hands shaking. Did they knock her out or make her watch while they cut her open? The possibilities were endless, and all horrible thoughts.

Sylus could only stand there with her body in his arms. His expression was gaunt, his brows furrowed, and a frown settled into his lips. His current reaction seemed too little, but he was never one for theatrics, not even now. All he could feel now was a deep seated sorrow, an unbearable ache that now lived in his chest. 

There were no tears, no cries, though Sylus could now understand why humans did those things. Is this what his Sorceress felt after he left her time and time again? How could he do this to her?

Sylus thought he knew pain, of suffering. And maybe he did. But loss was different. Loss didn’t claw at him, leaving physical scars and bullet wounds. It hollowed him out, forcing him to look at life in a different light. A dark, meaningless life without her.

After what felt like another millenia passed, he carefully placed the aether core back in her chest, where it belonged. He knew that would do nothing, but it felt wrong to do anything else with it. 

He glanced over the room one more time before turning on his heels and leaving. It was an insult for her to be in this place any longer.

As he slowly carried her out of the building, his eyes never left her. She looked peaceful enough but he knew she suffered. His soul told him so.

As he looked, he was aware of a strange energy coalescing around him…no, her. It was slow, but strong and it was familiar. The aether core.

Her body became weightless in his arms. He had to grasp at what remained of her uniform to keep her from floating away. It would've been comical had the both of them not been covered in blood and her chest not torn open like a flock of vultures dug into her. 

The energy in his eyes glowed with a bright gold, just like her Evol. He felt his energy get swirled into the mix, his desires painted in with the aether cores power. If this was her final goodbye, Sylus would savor it, burn it into his memory and then some.

The energy flowed throughout her body until it burst out, shattering what remained of the windows in the building and managed to knock Sylus back a bit before his hands grasped at her again. A soon as she brushed his fingertips, he could smell life in her again, her pulse weak but steady. The incision on her chest was gone, not even a blemish left behind, instead he could feel the aether core pulse in her heart again, releasing more energy, tying the two together with their Evols. Resonance swirled around him, and he accepted, giving whatever power she needed , or rather, the aether core needed.

Her body was shaking and a strangled noise came from her chapped lips. Tears began to streak down her face but she remained unconscious, the trauma of the past still engrained in her body. Sylus didn't know when he started crying either. It wasn't loud nor dramatic, just quiet tears mingling with hers. He wasn't able to move until the twins reached them, ordering them to prepare the medical room.

Afterwards: 

She requested extended leave, having no choice as she was basically kidnapped by Sylus. He was glued to her, bringing her around everywhere with him, tightly wrapped up in his arms. Not that she minded. When she woke up, he was right by her, looking at her with reverence. They didn’t speak about it, or much of anything, just silently acknowledged they would in the future.

“…Sylus?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.” He just looked at her gently, a soft smile reserved only for her gracing the exchange. He didn’t feel like he deserved her thanks after failing her so catastrophically, but he drank in her words regardless.

“Of course, my love.”

—————

What she didn't know was he was streamlining and overloading his schedule so he could leave with her on a retreat, somewhere, just the two of them. 

The next couple weeks were spent out of the cities, away from everything but each other. They both needed time after what happened. Sylus had never felt more vulnerable and broken than when he found her like that, not even when she pierced his heart for the first time. In that moment he had a purpose, to protect her, but when he saw her already lifeless body lying in a place she had no business being in, something akin to fear enveloped him and never left. It left him uncomfortable and unable to sit still, his only peace being her heartbeat, strong and steady.

They would have to work hard to move past this, the air surrounding them still charged with uncertainty and hurt, but for now, all they needed was time away from the noise of the cities. 

To just love and cherish one another.

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[npuppet]

Lads Ramble #9 ft No Straight Roads lol

A completely random post but here’s what I think each LI’s boss song would be in NSR (w YouTube links)

(NSR is a Malaysian game that has a beautiful soundtrack and you should totally play it or watch h it on yt 👍)

Rafayel

Obviously Vs Sayu

Girlypop is literally a mermaid singing abt love

And the thought of Rafayel being a reverse mermaid is really funny

Xavier

I think Vs DJ Subatomic Supernova mostly bc of the space vibes

The entire boss fight is space themed so

Zayne

Vs Yinu bc of the kind of boss battle sophisticated it is. I think it’s the right amount of hopeful and tragic

Also the irony that Zayne can’t play the piano well is really funny

Sylus

Vs Tatiana bc he is the final boss lol (the edm ver is good too)

The chorus really sells it, kind of Tomorrows Catch-22 vibes

Caleb

Vs 1010 (totally not bc of the robot theme) But also I think the rock version is a good fit, I dunno might just be me

Goofy ah boy band

Anyways yeah, I have an all LI’s story prompt coming out, this was just filler

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Crédits artist @moririforever

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One nightmare abt lumeria later

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A list of things I have noticed in LaDs pt 6 ft plushies

If I’m getting this correct then these memories came out in October ish of last year (I could be horribly wrong since I don’t remember lol)

Caleb has been teased for a long time then

And the new plushie that came out recently

So does that mean other future plushies are in these memories??

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A glimpse into a world that isn’t mine

[npuppet]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You get your job back and celebrate. And then you meet someone at the park.}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance

Chapter 17: Gravity

Your knee won’t stop bouncing with anxiety. The sights and smells of the Hunter’s Association are familiar but foreign. It’s been too long since you’ve been in this building, and you feel like everyone can tell. 

Xavier leans over to place a hand on your trembling knee and gives you a warm smile. “It’ll be alright. You can do this.”

You sit up and take a short breath, “I didn’t talk to any of the counselors she recommended. I technically haven’t done anything to prove I can come back to work. What should I say? Oh, I’m feeling much better! My four boyfriends helped me stop being all dark and twisty inside?”

Xavier chuckles and sits back in his seat. The two of you are waiting for an appointment with Captain Jenna, and you’re close to bursting. Thankfully, Xavier is more than calm. If anything, he’s bursting with excitement. He’s tagged along to personally request you as his permanent partner. 

Jenna’s assistant calls for you, and your heart jumps into your throat. Xavier takes your hand to stand and follows you all the way to the door— only letting go when you enter without him. You have to speak with Jenna alone first, and at least Xavier believes in you. 

Jenna is as stoic as always. A tall, thin figure of authority that rivals Zayne with her icy expressions. “It’s good to see you.” She says almost warmly and nods to the seat across from her desk. 

You take a steadying breath and sit, “Thank you for seeing me.”

”I heard you were hurt,” Jenna wastes no time, cutting to the quick. “How are you?”

You laugh sheepishly, “There was a small stalking incident. I suffered a mild rib fracture, but I’m fully recovered now! I’m ready to get back to work.”

Jeanna sits down at her high backed carbon-black chair. The screen on her desk is illuminated with the many open files she has up— open cases of protofield fluctuations, wanderer sightings and attacks, and an increase in flux stabilizer vandalism. 

“I’m willing to talk terms.” Jenna says like she’s opening up a hostage negotiation. “If you can tell me why I suspended you in the first place.”

Your hands clench in your lap, and the scarf around your neck feels suddenly too hot. “I…I wasn’t performing to standard. I was slacking, and missing work without reason.”

Jenna’s eyes narrow, and she leans back in her chair. All of a sudden, you’re eight years old again. Sitting in the principal’s office of your elementary school, wondering what the right thing to say is to get you out of trouble. 

You can tell that isn’t what she wanted to hear, and so you try again, “I wasn’t taking care of myself. I was depressed and not coping with what happened. You suspended me for my own good, because I wasn’t well.”

A beat passes, a quiet tick of the clock as Jenna lets you mull over your words. At the time, it’d felt like one cruelty after another, but you know now– with a clear head and a healing heart– that it was the right thing to to do. 

“I also  heard that you were evicted from your apartment.” Jenna’ voice is even, but her eyes are frigid. “When I inquired what had happened with the landlord, he told me you left no forwarding address. I apologize for that. If you had reached out, I would have made things clear with the landlord and fixed it.”

Sitting up a little bit straighter, you mind whirls at that. Spinning with the conjured alternate present that would have occurred had you thought for half a second. Why hadn’t you thought to just ask Jenna to talk to the landlord? The past three months would be so different. 

You look out the window at the skyline of Linkon city, and imagine a world where you hadn’t been on that park bench. Where you hadn’t jumped at the opportunity to be Zayne’s housekeeper. 

Spring is just around the corner, if you had been smarter, would you be greeting the cherry blossoms alone? It’s hard to fathom that. A reality where you aren’t intertwined in the four of them. 

You shake your head, “To be honest, it didn’t even occur to me. Everything happened so quickly and I was so…well, you know. I was out of it.”

“I regret placing you on leave without ensuring you had a support system. I fear I may have only made it worse.” Jenna’s face curdles with guilt. 

You’re quick to correct her, “Oh no! I reconnected with a friend, and I’m very happy where I am now. I have a new place, and they’ve helped me back on my feet. That’s why I’m here today. I want to come back, ma’am.”

Jenna’s features soften, and her warm eyes fall on you with a little bit of hope. “I see. I’m glad to hear it. Well, as I promised, your position here with the UNICORNS is waiting for you. But, protocol dictates that you be put on probation for ninety days before you’re fully reinstated.”

You nod emphatically, “Of course, that’s fine. I understand, and I’m ready to prove myself.”

Jenna taps away at her computer for a moment. “Tara, of course, will be ecstatic. The others missed you as well– I was certain there would be a mutiny.”

You can’t help but laugh, “I apologize for any grief I may have caused, captain.”

“I prefer fruit bouquets over flowers.” Jenna remarks, and then stands from her chair. A dry joke that she merely smirks at. “Now, I’ve sent a message down to HR to reinstate your ID. Head over to armament and they’ll set you up with a new watch– we’ve upgraded since you were last here.”

You rise to your feet, and follow her back towards the door, “When can I start?”

Jenna smiles in that matronly way she does when one of her subordinates amuse her, “Next Monday. There’s a cleanup effort on the south side of the city, and they need some Hunters to supervise in case of Wanderer interference. I’ll send you the details when you come back Monday morning.”

“Right! Thank you so much Captain Jenna. I…I really can’t thank you enough for letting me come back.” 

Jenna opens the door and you step out, feeling fifty pounds lighter. The Captain of the Unicorns shakes her head, “This was always the plan. Go ahead and check in with the others if you’d like. I’ve got a meeting in twenty minutes I need to get to.”

Xavier is standing six feet away. Though his expression is even, you can see the eagerness sparkling in those cerulean eyes. The twinkling of wishing stars. 

“I won’t keep you any longer then. Thank you again, Captain. I’ll be here bright and early on Monday.” You try not to bounce too much with glee, and Jenna laughs at your barely tempered excitement. 

Captain Jenna retreats back to her office, and you approach Xavier. He takes your hand like he might lead you in a dance, but instead just draws you close. “How’d it go?”

“Perfectly, just like you said. I start again on Monday.” You practically squeal. 

Xavier’s eyes crinkle with his smile, and the air around you feels a little bit lighter. “That gives us enough time to get some more training in. We should run some simulations as partners to make sure we’re on top of our game.”

You elbow him with a bubbly giggle, “Are you ever not on the top of your game? C’mon I have to get a new watch from Armament. And then I want to stop by HR to make sure they got Jenna’s message.”

Your coworkers are happy to see you, and Tara nearly tackles you when she spots you in the office. Some confess their concern when you disappeared– how much they noticed you struggling, and how much they fought Jenna on suspending you. 

It’s startling, realizing how much your fellow Hunters cared. Even when you were lost in a fog– when their faces had turned into nothing but blurs and their words fell on deaf ears– they had cared. The anxiety you’d been feeling since deciding to come back eases even more. There wouldn’t be some great awkwardness to overcome, thank god. 

Xavier lingers near you while you’re fitted for a new watch, and the armament team goes over the changes. An updated GPS system. Improved vitals tracking, and increased sensitivity to protocurve fluctuations. 

HR is….hr. It’s a corporate nightmare of legal jargon and people-pleasing. You minimize your time there as much as possible, only making sure someone has it in the system to reinstate you as an active Hunter. 

Xavier treats you to oversized ridiculous boba on your way home. The kind that’s way too expensive but comes in a cute pink cup with a round bottom and three different color gradients. You sip happily at your treat in his car, simultaneously giddy from the familiar weight of the hunter’s watch on your wrist and the realization that the place where your boys are is home now. Forever. 

You hook arms with Xavier to take the elevator up from the garage to the main house and he’s looking at you with this funny kind of playfulness. Like he’s in on a joke that hasn’t been told yet. 

The elevator dings and the doors open, and you hear the hushed voices arguing.

“Don’t touch that. You’ll set it off prematurely.” Zayne’s voice hisses under his breath. 

“I just want to make sure it works! Geez…” Rafayel’s replies with signature sass. 

You turn towards the living room and see a large banner strung up across the windows, a multicolored ‘Congratulations!’ written on a confetti background. 

Rafayel and Zayne stand in the middle of the room. Zayne smiles when he sees you, and Rafayel nearly jumps in utter delight. A party popper in each hand, the minute you step into the room and out of the hall they pull the strings and pop! A sharp burst of confetti explodes towards you, not just from Rafayel and Zayne but from either side of you as well. 

You jump and squeak, turning to see the two bird masked hooligans of Sylus’ who snicker all too pleased. They pull out more party poppers and pop them, covering you with more strings of confetti. 

“Congrats boss girl!” Luke cheers from your right, and then Kieran pops another, “Good job on the— whatever it was! Hooray!”

“Boys,” Sylus calls from behind Luke, and they flinch a little. Caught being a little more than just helpful. The young masked man turns back to you and offers you a sheepish shrug. 

“We’re behaving!” Kieran adds as he throws his arm over his brother’s shoulder, “We can have cake yeah?”

“What’s going on?” You laugh as you pick some confetti out of your hair, “Why all the… confettiing?”

“It's for you, dumbie!” Rafayel scoots around the couch to get to you, “A congrats party!”

“What?” You mumble, looking at the banner, the streamers, and even a sheet cake sitting happily on the kitchen island, “For what?”

“For you, of course.” Sylus adds, walking his fingers up your back and plucking another errant piece of pink confetti from your hair. “For getting your job back. Or for choosing to stay with us. Regardless, the day felt worth celebrating.”

You feel like you're made of cotton candy. Tiny strings of heated sugar spun into cottony webs. So fine and airy that you melt upon the tips of tongues. Strawberry flavored and filled with the memory of sunshine and summer. 

What an utter, lovesick fool you are. And how lucky you are to be cradled in the arms of those who love you for it. 

“You didn’t know that I’d even get the job back,” You argue as Zayne cuts you a piece of cake with a picture of a Hero from Super Hunters punching a Wanderer on it. He places it onto a little pink paper plate and then shrugs as he hands it to you. 

“There was little doubt, love.” He says with certainty. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Luke and Kiera waiting patiently at the dining table, buzzing in place as they wait for their cake. Sylus had had to tell them to sit down with as much force as a father to toddlers, and so they sat– albeit impatiently. 

You wait till Zayne cuts another piece and then take both plates over to the poor kids. From what Sylus has told you they’re barely eighteen, if that. They’re kids. Kids that work for an international criminal syndicate and arguably more dangerous than even seasoned criminals, but kids. 

They thank you in unison for the cake and then you retreat back to the kitchen for your own piece. 

It seems that cake and confetti are not all you have to look forward to in this little celebration, because Sylus drops a large aluminum crate at your feet with an obnoxiously large red bow on top. 

“What’s this?” You ask.

“Your present, kitten.” Sylus says with a grin that’s too smug. “Open it.”

Setting aside your half-eaten cake, you hop off your barstool to open the large metal monstrosity. You pluck the bow off of it and use the adhesive still on there to plant it onto Sylus’ chest. He chuckles at you, and leaves it there. 

You unlatch the crate and you have an inkling of what awaits you inside. Black egg-crate foam meets your eyes first, and then– as you expected– a pair of shiny silver handguns. They’re chrome, with carbon hand grips and red detailing down the barrel. A pair of shiny chrome blades sit next to them, a thigh holster for each one. And lastly, a small pocket handgun that’s baby pink with a kitten on the grip– tiny enough to fit in a clutch handbag.

“There’s more below,” Sylus whispers at you, and you pick up the first layer to reveal more. 

A layer of combat gear. An elaborate set of body armor as pretty as it is functional. It’s similar to some of the armor worn by hunters, but this looks custom. 

“Wow, this is amazing, Sylus!” You breathe in awe. Looking at him, you can practically see him preening like a peacock at your excitement, “Thank you!”

“Me next!” Rafayel inserts himself in front of Sylus and offers you a small, blue box. 

You rise from your crouch and take the softly texture box. Opening it, you’re met with the most delicate, beautiful piece of jewelry you’ve ever seen. An elegant chain with little teardrop gemstones the faintest shade of blue. At the center is an oblong, opalescent centerpiece. It takes you a second to realize what it is. A scale. A large, paper thin scale like something from a massive fish. You can only fathom what kind of ethereal sea creature this must have come from. 

“It’s beautiful.” You say, turning to Rafayel with stars in your eyes.

“You have to wear it everyday, okay?” Rafayel insists, grabbing the box from your hand and taking out the necklace. He moves around you fluidly and places it around your neck without request or hesitation. 

“This is too nice for everyday!” You argue, “I couldn’t wear this while working!”

“You have to.” Rafayel chirps, “This is scale from Lemuria. It’ll keep you safe.”

You sigh and concede. You’re not entirely sure what Lemuria is, but it sounds fancy, and if it makes the second biggest worry-wort in the house chill, then so be it. 

Zayne’s gift is a little snow globe. Well, a glass globe with a sphere of ice inside it. Within the ice is a small pool of water and a shell you recognize from one of the many you found at the beach. It’s a beautiful memento, and he blushes when you gush over it. 

Xavier gives you a crystal replica of the solar system to hang up in your room. Each planet is a different precious stone, reflecting the light with sunbursts and rainbows. 

Once you’ve had cake and drank some bubbly concoction that Rafayel mixed, you hang up your gift from Xavier above your bed– with a little help of course. You place Rafayel’s necklace safely back in its box, Zayne’s snowglobe goes on your bedside table, and the arsenal from Sylus gets slid into your closet. 

Sylus comes to you to kiss you goodnight, mentioning some work over in the N109 zone he has to get done– that he won’t be back until late tomorrow.

Zayne, dressed in pajamas, catches him just before he leaves your doorway. And catches Sylus by the back of the neck to press a kiss to his temple. His signature parting farewell. Sylus chuckles into it, and you feel that familiar fizzy happiness at seeing the two of them so content. 

Sylus parts, and Zayne follows you into bed. 

Rafayel and Xavier drew the short straw of tidying up the little party, but you’re sure you’ll see them in bed soon enough. 

It’s been a long, rollercoaster of a day. And everything is almost back to the way it’s supposed to be. You have Zayne. Xavier. Rafayel. Sylus. You have your job as a Hunter. 

Love. Purpose. A future. It lingers on you like an expensive perfume. You stink of happiness. 

If only things could stay this way….

A week later, the weather is warming up. You still can’t leave the house without a jacket but gloves and scarves can be left at home. The smell of earth fills the air as the soil gradually thaws, and the energy of the city shifts from its sleepy, winter hibernation to its maiden-pink excitement of spring. 

You’re back at work. Fighting wanderers but this time Xavier is at your side. It’s distracting at first, watching him fight. He’s as graceful as a ballerina on the field. His precision with the blade is masterful, and you’re caught starry eyed a few times on that first day. 

He pushes you harder now in training. You attend simulations at the Association to get better fighting side by side without the danger, and you’re not sure you’ll ever get used to the feeling of resonating with Xavier’s Light Evol. It explodes like a supernova beneath your skin– utter destructive power with the potential to create universes and decay time itself. 

The household chores are divided. A little schedule and a checklist that the five of you divvy up. Zayne doesn’t mind doing dishes, so that’s his preferred chore. Xavier likes to cook, but can’t so he does mostly dusting and tidying. You’re pretty sure Sylus has someone sneaky coming in at night to do his chores, and so long as he’s not making the twins do it– you’re fine with that. 

You should have known it was too good. Nothing gold can stay, and all that poetic nonsense. Something about the other shoe dropping or the calm before the storm. The glassy top of your pool of happiness ripples. 

A phone call. 

Your old phone has been off since your accident on the roof. Better to let it die, you thought. The stalker could just be an unfinished chapter– not knowing was better than chasing. 

It was one of the very rare early mornings that you were alone in your bed. The echoes of your lovers were there, indents in the bed and the sheets from where’d they’d been.

 Zayne had risen for work at nearly three– an early shift that the rest of you dreaded. Sylus had business that night and was likely not even home yet.  Xavier had been put on night patrols this week. His light evol and experience specifically requested by some stuffy higher-up he couldn’t say no too. And Rafayel was likely passed out in his studio, trying to finish his latest painting for an art exhibition coming up. 

Alone in your big bed, the last to rise and it's a nagging buzzing in your drawer that pulls you from sleep. 

Half-asleep, you yank the drawer open and pull out the phone. You’re struck with irritation more than confusion, but when your eyes finally adjust to the bright screen, your stomach drops. 

You’re suddenly sitting upright. Covers pushed away from you as your hand begins to shake. An unknown number. A plain white-blue screen, and the rhythmic humming of the ring over and over again. 

Answer it. You’re feeble, reckless mind cries. Answer it quick!

When you press the phone to your ear and answer the call, you’re met with silence. Barely even static meets your ears. Your hands tremble, but you force yourself to hold together. “Hello?”

Music meets your ears. Discordant and garbled like it's being played through a speaker, and then put through the phone. The sound of wind cuts through the melody before you can hear it again, and dread slinks down your spine, coaxing every hair on your body to stand on end. 

It’s more than creepy. It’s haunting. Is this some kind of threat? Or a message?

You keep listening, Holding your breath so you can hear the receiver over the sound of your own rattled breathing. 

The melody shifts, and you can hear rustling of something and then something that sounds like— children? Playing? 

It’s barely 60 seconds. A mess of sounds and then click. Nothing. 

You pull the phone away to check, making sure the call was disconnected. With quickened breathing, you go to the home screen of the phone. Checking for anything else– a text. A voicemail. An email? Nothing. 

You throw the phone back into the drawer and close it. Rising out of bed, you’re out of your room in record time. This time you won’t be foolish and end up with a punctured lung. You rush down the hall and into the spacious studio. The light of dawn casting everything in a grey-blue haze. 

“Rafayel!” You call, unable to find him for a moment. But a jolt of movement catches your eye, and you go to him. 

You’re not sure why it’s rattled you like this. Why this time it’s made the scar on your ribs ache or your gut tight, but Rafayel is barely sitting up from his place on the couch before you fall into him. 

Chests pressed together, you hold him close and he wraps his arms around you without question. He hums like a satisfied cat, pleased that you’ve come to him, and he seems keen to go right back to sleep. 

But you squeeze him tighter, and hide your face away in his neck. Only when  your inhale sharply does his mind rouse from sleep enough to realize something is wrong, and he holds you all the tighter. 

“What happened?”

“This has gone on long enough.” Sylus states with murder is his voice when you finish explaining the events of the morning to him. 

It’s midday when you’re able to gather everyone together. The living room feels cold, but you’re sure that’s your own anxiety making you break out in a cold sweat. You’ve had your hunter weapon on one side of your hip all day, and Rafayel at the other. 

“Believe me, I’m way ahead of you.” Scoffing, you continue your pace back and forth next to the windows.  Zayne and Xavier are sitting on the couch, but they're at the edges of their seats now. 

Sylus had dragged his tired feet through the door at five am, less than an hour after the phone call. And you grabbed him the second he was inside, and when you explained that had happened, you watched as his previous exhaustion melted away– replaced by a cold, deadly determination. 

Xavier had gotten home around six, and he’d run into Zayne on his way in– much to the blond’s surprise. But a quick call to Zayne had brought him rushing home, the tremor in your voice more than enough to reassign some surgeries and take the afternoon off. 

“I’m serious, kitten.” Sylus practically growls as he rests his hands on the back of the couch. The matching bracelet the five of you wear shines on his wrist. “It is one thing to have your life at risk from Wanderers. This stalker will not be tolerated.”

You let out a strangled breath and run your hand through your hair the umpteenth time today. “The call was nonsense. Some music and some sounds. No words. Not even heavy breathing.”

“There must be some reasoning behind it.” Zayne rises to his feet as he speaks, “Do we think the motivation is simply to terrorize? Or is harm the ultimate goal?”

“Terror has been achieved. Harm has been achieved– which was my fault, but still.” You bark out, and then laugh uncomfortably, “The crazy thing is I think I recognize the music.”

“You do?” Xavier asks.

Rafayel quietly comes up to your side, and with a hand at your waist, he halts your pacing. Being anchored in place you take a deep breath, surprised by Rafayel’s silent support. 

“Do you remember that park near where we lived as kids, Zayne?” You say a bit more evenly. 

“There were a few…”

“There was one. One that took longer to walk to.” Your voice goes a little quieter as you pull the memories from deep within your mind. “There was this carousel. Antique. It cost a coin to ride it and we would– we would go there during the summer a lot.”

“Ah, yes,” Zayne concurs, “Adams Park. You’re right. That one was farther out than the others, but I remember the carousel. Last I recall, it’s out of commission now.”

“The music…” You sigh, “I know it's crazy but– but it reminded me of that. There was wind, and the sound of kids playing. I think….I think it was telling me to go to this park.”

“Absolutely not.” Rafayel hisses, “Even if that were the case, why play into their plan? No. No.”

“I can send Luke or Kieran to scope it out.” Sylus says as he’s already tapping away at his phone. 

“No!” You shout, “No, don’t involve them. If this is dangerous, then I’m more than capable of handling it. I’m telling you guys because the last time I did something stupid I got a broken rib.”

“You’re not thinking of going?” Xavier’s dulcet voice is serrated. 

“I am.” You say, though you’ve only barely convinced yourself of the fact. “Either it’s a nonsense noise meant to scare me, or it's a way to find this guy once and for all. End this.”

“Kitten…” The pet name is purred, but it’s dripping with so much disappointment that it sounds like a threat. Sylus looms like a shadow, reckoning with the apocalypse. “I would highly suggest you don’t do that.”

You adjust the gun at your hip and do not cower under Sylus’ ire. “Then come with me. I’m not planning on doing this alone, not again. Come with me. If it’s a setup, then I have backup. And if it’s nothing, I’ll buy ice cream.”

The park is smaller than you remember it, and the trees are just starting to bud. The scent of fresh rain fills the windy air, brushing against you as you exit the car with the four of your lover’s right behind you. 

Sylus comes up to you once again, adjusting the strap of the body armor across your chest. As if touching it settles some anxious worm in his heart. He has to make sure its real– that it's secure. You’re armed like you’re going into battle, and so are they. The necklace at your throat feels cold, the scale shifting so lightly against your clavicle as if to remind you of it’s presence. 

Your group must look quite the sight, walking into the park and along the winding path that leads across it. The carousel sits as the centerpiece of it. Its once colorful brocade faded with age and wear, and it sits completely still and quiet. 

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen it last, and you’d all but forgotten those days of summer scouring couch cushions for coins to ride it. Over and over and over again, choosing a different horse each time to make sure the ride was the same. 

There’s a temporary fence surrounding the poor ride, and some tape warding off troublesome teenagers that might think it’s fun to climb on it. 

“There’s no protocurve fluctuations that I can detect,” Xavier remarks while examining his new Hunter’s Watch. 

“I doubt we’re dealing with Wanderers.” Sylus rumbles, hands at his hips and he slowly scans the surroundings. Casually like he isn’t slightly dewy with anxiety. “Unless you’ve got a creep detector on that thing, it’s not of any use.”

You huff in amusement at his comment and go over to Zayne, who is standing stiffly looking at the carousel. “Do you remember it?”

“Faintly,” Zayne replies. “I didn’t come here often.”

“I remember one time we did.” You say, looking towards a pair of horses side by side, one set higher than the other and frozen in time. “It was when we were a little old. Ten maybe? You didn’t want to ride it, and so I rode it alone. I think that– I think that was the last time I ever did.”

Zayne turns to look at you and there’s guilt in his eyes, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, “Why? You were a teenage boy at that time. You couldn’t be seen riding some childish carousel with some girl.”

“I should have,” Zayne says softly, “Even if I looked silly. I should have ridden with you. One more time.”

You open your mouth to reply– to ease that forlorn melancholy in his voice because it hurts you just as much to hear it as it does for him to feel it. However, Rafayel’s voice cuts like a blade, “There’s someone here.”

The five of you turn in unison, the path towards the other side of the park from the way you came is occupied by a figure. A person clad in a light grey hoodie, and walking with their hands in the pocket. Their hair rustles wildly with a sharp gust of wind, and it shifts with shades of ash mauve, taupe and russet. 

His pale skin is ghostly, and the dark circles under his eyes don’t disappear no matter how much you try to imagine them away. 

Gripping Zayne’s hand so tightly, you’re sure that it hurts, but your muscles have locked. Death itself has come to stand before you, clad in the face of one you once loved. Wrenching from you a horrid, desperate gasp that won’t leave you. Air is stuck in your lungs, and breath won’t come. 

Fifteen feet away. You measure the distance with your eyes, and dammit, why does your vision keep going blurry? What’s happening? The man is fifteen feet away, and you can cross that distance in less than ten seconds. Faster even. You’re fast. He always said so. 

A step is taken, but you’re not sure if it’s you. Not until you step again. The sound of your footsteps so loud in your tunneled mind that it might as well be thunder. 

Your hand slips from Zayne’s because you’re moving. Drawn from those who wish to hold you to that which you have lost. Back to that void in the cosmos where there lies only one singular star. 

“Caleb,” Your voice doesn’t sound like your own, but it is. It’s you weeping the name like a keen wail. Like if you say it aloud it will keep the spectre of his spirit here in this mortal world, and that he won’t slip away the moment you reach for him. 

Through the grey of his pallor and the tired look on his face, Caleb smiles. And when you reach out to him, he’s solid beneath your fingers. The cotton of his sweatshirt meets your skin and it's real. It’s tactile. This horrid hallucination. 

The two of you collide harshly. Crashing into one another like colliding atoms in a supercollider, nothing but immeasurable quantum energy. You fit back in his arms like you’ve never left and underneath the scent of sterile soap and ash it’s him. 

Caleb’s arms are tight around you, hiding you into his chest like you’re the one that might slip away, and you sob brokenly. 

“Caleb…” You wail. Wail like begging for rest, “Caleb…”

You feel his lips against the crown of your head, and the heat of his breath as he exhales heavily through his nose. “Pipsqueak. Oh god…it’s me. It’s me. I’m here.”

<- Previous Next ->

[npuppet]

Drawing the LaDs for the first time lol (ft Sylus, Zayne, Caleb, Xavier, and Rafayel)

I’m trying to stylize them while keeping their defining traits and it’s hard af like 🥲 how y’all do it??

The easiest for me was Caleb lmao

[npuppet]

Twin

Love and Deepspace fic

Pt 1 | Pt 2

Word Count: 6k

Pairing: Dawnbreaker x reader x Zayne.. kinda

Content Warning: reader is MC, reader is not in a relationship with any of the LI’s but it’s implied she’s interacted with them, I can’t write yearning well yet so I think this chapter falls a little flat, more making up world building things

A/N: this turned out too long so I had to cut it in the middle but that just means a quicker release for the next chapter where you actually talk to Dawnbreaker lol, lightly proofread

——————————————————————————

Many things happened while you were unconscious.

 As soon as the ambulance arrived at Akso, Zayne was making preparations for an Evol technician to assess you and hopefully be able to safely draw out all the extra energy putting stress on your heart. He also had to call for another gurney to be brought out since Dawnbreaker wasn’t responding to auditory or physical stimuli anymore. 

Dr. Zayne entrusted Dr. Greyson to look after his doppelganger while he worked on stabilizing you. There was only a moment for Zayne to pull him aside and say he would explain as much as he could when you were stable. 

“Don’t be too shocked.” Dr. Greyson thought it odd, but maintaining an air of professionalism, rushed to get the new patient to an examination room. There had been an influx of people arriving at the hospital, the only way to get to them all was to quickly treat and move on. 

From the very brief rundown Dr. Zayne gave, Greyson went to work undoing the bandages around the man’s arm to assess the cut. It wasn’t too deep but definitely needed stitches. With practiced hands, the cut was cleaned, disinfected, and stitched in no time. But as Greyson was stitching, he could practically feel how cold the man’s arm was. It was an unnatural cold, not only because it was the middle of summer, but also it emanated off in waves, the cool air making Greyson shiver.

Also the way this man was dressed was strangely familiar… 

Finally looking at who he was treating, he almost stumbled back in surprise.

Zayne?? 

No wonder Dr. Zayne felt the need to warn him. The sight in front of him was almost too absurd to be real.

The uncanny resemblance made it seem like he was just staring at Dr. Zayne but like you, Greyson caught on to some discrepancies that separated this man from the doctor. 

Still, looking at a carbon copy of his coworker was strange. Genetics were scary. Dr. Greyson decided to move the man to a proper hospital bed as the cold was concerning, possibly early signs of Evol sickness or Protocore Syndrome.

What are the chances Dr. Zayne’s doppelgänger had a cold Evol as well? 

—————————

 Dawnbreaker couldn’t move. The flashes of light blended together into a mess he cared not to try and understand. He briefly heard his own voice hurriedly speak before vanishing, leaving him to swim in the murky depths of his consciousness. 

He could hear his own heart beat, faster than it should. Feel how his Evol still chilled his skin. But all he could see in his mind's eye was you.

 When he first heard shots ring out in the Protofield, he thought he was hallucinating, his brain finally shutting down after days of just seeing Wanderers. Then someone burst through the hoard and reached out to him. Who could be so reckless as to do that? 

When your hand touched his, it felt as if the hours of the hell induced, desperate fighting washed off of him. His Evol felt a little less heavy in his chest. Like ice being cracked and melted off of a lake's surface. It felt familiar, as if he experienced it before in a dream. He knew it was you in a heartbeat.

 It felt as if his soul was being hugged, comforting him in a way that made him feel unbelievably vulnerable. He reached out, trying to gain more, feel more, until you collapsed, breaking him out of his stupor. It wasn’t his intention to take more than you could give, just after years of looking through a blurry window of shattered dreams and nightmares, having you tangible? Physically in his hands? He relished the feeling.

 You were the beacon of hope and light he crawled to, his one last string of sanity. All of the awful things he subjected himself to were bearable when you appeared before him, even if it was just a fleeting moment. Every wound, blemish, and scar that riddled his body was worth it. In his dreams he had memorized every detail he could. Your face, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed. How the sun kissed your skin when you twirled around outside, laughing and joking to...him. The doctor. 

That strange, familiar feeling festered inside him. Jealousy. Despair even. He wasn’t meant to be here.

Dawnbreaker felt as if he was standing in a stolen spotlight, on a stage not meant for him, the audience being you. The way your eyes flickered up to meet his after you took away the pain. There was confusion and distant recognition, but it was nowhere near the warm familiar gaze you looked at the doctor with. 

It was selfish. It was ridiculous. To think you would look at him with the same care as you did with his counterpart. To be the recipient of your heartwarming laugh and bright eyes. 

Should he just go back to the Protofield? 

As much as he wanted, needed, to see you again, Dawnbreaker knew he would be better suited for the front lines. He was a fighter, if the past decade of his life was anything to go by.

 ————————— 

He snapped back to reality with a sharp inhale. The smell of antibacterial sanitizers and cleaners filled his nose. He was lying on a bed, a hospital bed, hooked up to machines and monitors. Cushioned restraints wrapped around wrists and tied him to the bed.

 Out the window to his left he could see the horizon swim with orange and yellow, the sun not yet peeking out yet. The room was washed with warm colors, in stark contrast to how cold the room felt, metaphorically and physically.

 He heard the sound of a book closing to his right. Turning his head he saw the doctor, sitting none too comfortably in a standard hospital chair facing the bed. Their eyes met and the silence in the room was only broken by the occasional beep and buzz of the machinery hooked up to his arms.

It was as if they were studying each other, trying to see, to understand. 

Dr. Zayne was the first to look away, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose, taking a deep breath. Dawnbreaker looked away as well, looking down at his wrists that were confined, flexing his fingers. He noticed he couldn’t call on his Evol, as if it was packed away somewhere inside him.

“Did you resonate with her?” Hearing his own voice ring out in the quiet room was an interesting experience. It was quiet but held a tense undertone. 

Resonate? Is that what he did with you?

 "...I didn't mean to." The short, vague confirmation was less of a confession and more of a lament. He had a faint idea of why you collapsed. While he didn't quite understand resonating or your Evol, he knew that warmth he felt in the Protofield was because of you. It had made his long dormant heart flutter in a way that felt almost immature, like a middle schooler getting their first crush. 

But did he hurt you by resonating? What kind of Evol was that? 

Dr. Zayne sighed again, closing his eyes. 

“…is she alright?” The last moment he had with you was your freezing body collapsing against his.

“She’s stable for now.” No thanks to you. Dr. Zayne shook his head and put the book he was reading on the table next to him, its title something about astronomy.  

“There was too much energy in her heart. We had to draw it out over the course of five hours.” The doctor looked at his own hands.

 “She almost…” He let those words fester. The thought of losing you, losing anyone, made him sick. That's the main reason he became a doctor, to help as many people as he could. After the incident when he was twelve and the Chronorift Catastrophe, he knew he wanted to be a doctor. After learning of your heart condition he swiftly switched focus from just a general practitioner to cardiology, rising the ranks to be the youngest lead cardiac surgeon in the city. 

And now it still did not feel like enough. He never imagined his own Evol would cause you to spiral, undoing all his work to keep you safe and healthy. Dr. Zayne wasn’t trying to guilt trip his doppelgänger. It wasn’t in his nature to point fingers. But at the same time he was. He wanted to be sure the man across from him knew the damage that had been done.

Along with your condition, the years of lingering nightmares still haunted him. The cause of fifteen years worth of sleepless nights was lying right in front of him.

Well, until a week ago that is. The nightmares and visions of his counterpart had stopped completely. Suddenly. It was as if they never happened in the first place. One night Dr. Zayne had gotten a full eight hours of sleep, if not more, after working back to back shifts. 

That never happened. 

Sure, some nights he might not remember what the nightmare was about but he always woke up with a sinking in his heart and a gut wrenching nagging in his head. 

Not that night. In fact, he felt refreshed, like how you should after sleeping. He sat up in bed, blinking the sleep out of his eyes and his gaze settled on the drawn curtains across the window. Dim light was beginning to seep through in the early morning glow. The room was quiet and for once it wasn’t deafening how alone and isolated he felt. For once he didn’t feel like he was fighting an internal battle.

 Peace. His body felt light and the fog that plagued his mind was gone. Just like that. And the peace continued for a week. Zayne had just thought it a cruel joke that the universe was playing and the nightmares would continue, but they never did.

 Soon the headache of his nightmares was replaced with something similar but different.

Confusion.  Anxiety. Why had the nightmares stopped? What did this mean?

 What happened? 

And now he was one step closer to figuring out why. His doppelgänger was with you at the entrance of the Protofield, looking just as concerned as he felt. It would be like you to just jump in and bring a strange man that looked like him, proudly showing him off like a trophy. 

While he wasn’t a physicist or parapsychologist, he understood the Deepspace Tunnel and Protofields bent time and space in such a way that could not be completely understood. And maybe that’s how he was in this overarching predicament.

Dawnbreaker could feel the icy glare the doctor gave him. There was the anger from having to deal with the flare up from your Protocore Syndrome, but also something else. Something much deeper than the current situation.

“...Are you wondering about those people?” Again, vague to anyone who might have happened to catch the conversation, but both men knew who those people were.

Dr. Zayne suddenly stood, a frigid wave of cold brushing past the curtains in the room, frost forming on the panes of glass in the window. His hands did not raise from their position next to his waist but he was tempted, oh so tempted to let his Evol go and put several icicles into the man's body. To lower the man's body temperature below freezing and let hypothermia take over, allowing him to go into shock. 

Intrusive thoughts raced in the doctor's head, only quelled from the years of self control he built up. 

“They weren’t people. Not when I…” Dr. Zayne paused. They weren't people? Weren’t human? 

The only reason Dawnbreaker was able to kill those people was because as soon as those blue crystalline tendrils consumed the body, they were no longer human. It was an Abomination, a sick twist of human limbs and Wanderer consciousness. As much as the police force liked to call him a mass murderer, he never killed a human. And he never would, no matter what.

Dawnbreaker wordlessly pointed at his coat that had been folded on a chair beside him. Dr. Zayne paused but circled the bed and reached into the pockets of the coat, his fingers brushing against something that made his skin tingle. Taking it out, a blue glow faintly danced across his vision. It was small, but unmistakably a shard of Protocore. It wasn't like any Protocore he’d seen but something about the way it was shaped was hauntingly familiar. 

“Those… things spread like a plague. It turns people into Wanderers.” Dr. Zayne looked at the fragment in silence, the frost retreating from the window. Was it like an advanced version of Protocore Syndrome? 

“Is there a cure?” 

“A bullet to the heart.” Being on the receiving end of his own dry, sarcastic humor made Dr. Zayne see why you always rolled your eyes at him. 

“So we have to worry about her Protocore Syndrome turning her into a Wanderer now?” he mused, though there was no humor in his words.

Dawnbreakers glanced up at the doctor in alarm.

 “Protocore Syndrome?” Did they have Abominations here? Is that what they called the sickness? Were you turning into one? He didn’t have his detector here so he couldn’t be sure. The doctor didn’t seem too concerned about it though. 

“…Protocore Syndrome is a disease that affects the body in different ways. In her case her body gets strained under intense Metaflux exposure. Along with her resonance Evol it can cause an influx of energy to be stored. Normally resonating is harmless unless the person she is resonating with has a build up of Evol energy.” Dr. Zayne gave Dawnbreaker a pointed look before continuing. 

“Resonating is like a door. She gains access to your Evol and you gain access to her power. Over time she stores energy and can transfer it by resonating. But too much on either side can cause side effects.” Dawnbreaker mulled over the new information, wincing slightly at the mention he did in fact hurt you, even unintentionally. 

So Abominations didn’t come from Protocore Syndrome here, it was just a medical disease caused by Metaflux. 

Dawnbreaker and Dr. Zayne both sighed, the amount of new information overwhelming them. Before either could say something, there was a knock on the door, which promptly opened to reveal Captain Jenna along with a group of Hunters. 

The two Hunters that had accompanied you reported back directly to Captain Jenna, causing her to assemble a team to go to Akso to investigate the mysterious person. Hearing of a person in the Protofield before the Association was suspicious, causing Jenna to worry if it was some sort of Wanderer trick or Metaflux hallucination. She also heard you collapsed soon after returning from the mission so she made it to the hospital as soon as she could. After learning the room from Yvonne, she braced herself for what she was about to find.

Nothing, however, could prepare her for the sight that graced her eyes. Standing by the window was Doctor Li. And in the bed next to him…

“Captain Jenna.” Dr. Zayne acknowledged. 

“Dr. Li. I received a report that the individual that came out of the Protofield with my Hunters was here.” Her eyes drifted to the man lying on the bed. His eyes were already on her, quietly observing with the same coolness as the doctor. 

“I see the rumors from the medical staff were true.” Dr. Zayne sighed. He knew hospital drama was hospital drama but still did not like the fact rumors were spreading around the hospital already. 

Captain Jenna walked up to the bed while the other Hunters took up posts by the door. She saw the man was already restrained to the bed which intrigued her. 

“My name is Captain Jenna. I am investigating your appearance at the entrance of the Protofield after my Hunters returned from their mission.” Dawnbreaker didn't give any indication he heard her. Thoughts of how he was going to explain where he came from and who he was made his head throb. She looked back at the doctor, silently asking for some space. Dr. Zayne nodded and left, after picking up his book from the table. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

Jenna took up residence in the seat Dr. Zayne left behind, smoothly crossing her legs and looking directly at the man on the bed. 

“Let's start with a name.” Dawnbreaker let out a quiet huff through his nose. 

“...Dawnbreaker.” he said after a pause. Jenna raised an eyebrow. Both at the name and that his voice was exactly like Dr. Li’s.

“An alias?” He didn't give an answer. 

“Alright. How did you end up in the Protofield?” Truthfully, he didn't quite know the answer himself. He was shoved in after dealing with an Abomination and the rest was filled with hours of killing Wanderers until you found him. 

“I fell in.” 

“Fell? Could you be more specific?” Another pause.

“I was fighting a Wanderer and was pushed into a Protofield. When your Hunters found me, they brought me out.” 

“You were fighting near a No-Hunt Zone? That makes you look highly suspicious.” Dawnbreaker didn't know what a No-Hunt Zone was so he couldn't comment.

“Are you related to Dr. Li? I have to admit your appearance is uncanny.” Related? More like he is Zayne Li in almost every aspect.

“We are not related.” Again, the truth, but he couldn't go into too much depth or everything would become too confusing.

“What is your Evol classification? You said you were fighting a Wanderer. I assume you have an Evol to do that.” Dawnbreaker would have shown the Captain but he was still unable to call on his Evol. He assumed the restraints were to blame for that.

“Ice.” Jenna wasn't able to contain the scoff that left her lips. For not being related, the two men had too many similar qualities to be a coincidence. If she hadn’t seen the doctor in the room when she walked in, she would have assumed that it was Dr. Li in the bed.  Maybe twins separated at birth. She would have to contact Dr. Li’s parents to be sure. 

“Well since we are unable to confirm your origins, we will need to run some tests and background checks. From now on you will be under the Hunters Association watch. Once you are discharged, you will be brought to headquarters and we will figure out what to do from there.” She promptly stood and with one last glance, left and stationed two Hunters outside the door as a precaution. 

Dawnbreaker closed his eyes. He had to savor this peace he could. When he was released from the hospital, it would probably all go downhill from there.

He missed you already.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

Waking up in the hospital was unfortunately a regular occurrence for you by now. Whether it was from a Wanderer attack, that time you nearly broke your back climbing up a tree to get a cat down, or your Protocore Syndrome flaring, it wasn’t a shock to wake up with a hospital gown on instead of pajamas anymore. The familiar heaviness in your chest told you it was your Protocore Syndrome this time. Slowly the events surrounding the Protofield came back to you. 

Right.

The whole Protofield incident.

You opened your eyes groggily and took stock of your surroundings. Standard hospital room with the privacy curtain drawn with the only thing out of place was the machine attached to your chest. It was an Evol stabilizer, typically used for patients with end stage Evol sickness. It is similar to a flux stabilizer but reversed, instead using Metaflux and Protocores to draw out excess Evol to stabilize the Evolver. The last time you were hooked up to one of these was when you and Caleb were younger, messing around and got overwhelmed by his gravity Evol. Grandma was furious of course, but understood dumb kids will be dumb kids and gave the both of you a good scolding and a lesson on your Evol. Never happened again until now. 

Resonating with the other Zayne must have done something similar. Pressing the button to the side of your bed to call a nurse, you stretched out, feeling joint pop and dormant muscles ache. Your chest still ached but otherwise you felt fine, like you aren't just within an inch of your life when you arrived.

The door opened and a nurse greeted you, helping disconnect the machine from your chest. She said that you had to see Dr. Zayne before leaving since you were in critical condition not long ago but you assured her you were fine, telling her you would go to him yourself. That probably broke quite a few hospital protocols but you had to get out as soon as you could. It was a blessing you were not put out of commission, though you were not looking forward to the scolding from Zayne. Had he already figured out his doppelganger was here? Probably, he had a way with finding out things. 

Getting dressed in clothes presumably left by Zayne (he now kept spare clothes since you were at Akso so often), you left to go find the nurses station to tell Yvonne you needed to see Zayne. 

She smiled when she saw you, saying Dr. Zayne was free at the moment and to go directly to his office. Thanking her, you took the familiar route to his office, and knocked on the door. A tired “come in” responded and you pushed open the door. 

“You’re awake. How does your chest feel?” Diligent isn't he?

“A bit sore but isn't that normal from the procedure? Anyways did anything… weird happen while I was out?” Zayne looked up from his laptop briefly, the subtle bags under his eyes and his furrowed brows telling you that, yes, something did happen. It was just a matter of getting him to tell you.

“Were you expecting something out of the ordinary to happen? Other than the Protofield incident?” You roll your eyes. Zayne stood from his chair and rounded the desk, motioning you to sit on the small examination table. You obliged, still looking at him expectantly. 

“You know what I mean.” 

“Do I?” He sanitized his hands before gently pressing on your chest, checking for abnormalities before reaching for his stethoscope in his pocket. 

“Yes you do Doc-tor Zayne.” He shushed you so he could listen to your heart for a minute then sighed. 

“I’m surprised you haven't heard the staff talking about it on your way here.” You shifted. You were so focused on beelining it to Zayne, you tuned out all the hospital chatter and machine beeps. It was all white noise to you by now anyways.

“You truly have a knack for finding trouble.” Walking back around his desk slowly, each step heavier than normal, he hands you a folder. You look at him nervously, dreading that it would be about you but instead your eyes scanned over records of him.

Doppelganger Zayne. What treatment he had to undergo during his stay and when he was discharged. Swallowing thickly, your eyes hesitantly found Zayne’s, looking for any sort of reaction. But he remained as stoic as ever, looking back at you with an almost indifferent look. 

“Did you get tired of me and decide to get a replacement?” You shook your head furiously, stumbling over a convoluted explanation about what happened but Dr. Zayne stopped you.

“I know. Captain Jenna filled me in while you were unconscious. She told me to tell you to get some rest and report back in a day. Seems your vacation will be cut short.” His lips curled into a ghost of a smile, taking his glasses off and wiping them off. 

“Greeeaaatttt.” you huffed. Closing the folder and tossing it on the desk, you pressed your palms to your eyes, hoping you could wake up like this was all a dream. Cool hands pulled your hands away, a breathy laugh causing you to look up at him. 

“You’ll damage your eyes if you keep doing that.” He said quietly. His expression had softened, looking sympathetic in the face of your plight. You itched to hug him, to find some solace in his arms like when you were kids. He would always indulge you, whether you needed comfort from storms or when you got hurt. But things are different now and hugging your primary care doctor would be awkward. 

You settled with squeezing his hands slightly before pulling away, clearing your throat. 

“Thank you for taking care of me..again.” You always worried him, what with you running off, becoming a Hunter and jumping into danger at every turn. But that is why he became a doctor. To care for you, should you need it. His chest tightened at the sight of you apologizing, your tired eyes meeting him again. He just shook his head and hesitantly patted your head. 

“You can tell me about it when you’ve dealt with the rest of your mission. For now, go get some rest. I already sent you your treatment plan.” You waved his hand off your head with a laugh. It was effortless how you bounced off each other, the way he effortlessly eased your mind. He was your rock when the explosion at your childhood house happened. And he still was now.

—---------------------------------------------------------

Waving to him as you left his office, you quickly exited the hospital and got on the train back to your apartment, only stopping to get some supplies at a convenience store. Once you step foot in your apartment, your legs felt like jelly. Carrying your groceries and the package the HA sent to your apartment with all your gear to the kitchen counter, you promptly fell back on the couch. 

You had one day of R&R before going back and trying to explain to Captain Jenna what happened and why you put all of Linkon in danger by bringing out a mysterious man that looked like your childhood best friend from a dangerous Protofield. The folder said the man was already discharged by the HA so he must be there now. It’s only been two days since you collapsed but anything could happen in that time. Were they interrogating him? Testing him? 

A plethora of ideas came to mind before you shoved it all down and got up to make some food. Your treatment plan included making nutritional food and you didn't want to incur the wrath of your doctor so you obliged, settling for a small meal before taking a nap. 

A phone call woke you up, riffling around your bed until you found it, wincing at how bright the screen was. It was Tara.

“Hey! Are you alright?! I heard you finally woke up, which is totally a relief, but give a girl some heads up yeah?” You mumbled before sitting up.

“Sorry, sorry. It's been a busy time. I’m fine, Akso took care of me like usual.” 

“That's good. Sooooo, when did Dr. Zayne have a twin?” You snorted. Since never, you thought. Wait.

“Oh shit, is everything alright over there?” Tara just laughed, easing some worries.

“Silly, everything's fine. If anything, he's having a hard time fighting off all the girls swooning over him.” You paused at that comment.

“What?” 

Tara then went off to update you that since the arrival of Dr. Zayne’s doppelganger, the Hunters Association has been abuzz with rumors and gossip. He was whisked away the first day for interrogation but afterwards they let him stay at the on-sight apartments after Dr. Zayne vouched for him. Rumors spread from Data Analytics that the man, Dawnbreaker, was Dr. Zayne’s long lost twin. He looked, sounded, and acted just like him, which raised some eyebrows but no one said it to his face. 

And after showing a prowess for battle and combat, Tara said Captain Jenna was trying to look into his history to make sure he wasn't a Tenebra so he could be put on unofficial hunting duty since the HA was short staffed. All the while Hunters had been bombarding him with questions and requests to practice and/or go on a date. 

The poor man spent all of his time in his apartment because of it. You groaned, mentally apologizing to Dawnbreaker. You would have to make it up to him, being the person who dragged him out of the Protofield in the first place. 

“Overall, I would say it's more of a positive change, with the threat of the Protofield still hanging over us.” 

“Have we figured out how to close it? Is there a final boss we have to kill?” Tara hummed over the phone.

“I haven’t been too involved in that aspect. I have been researching the Protocore’s that have been coming from the Wanderers. They act differently than normal Protocore’s, and the Metaflux is unstable, like the altered Protocore’s we got from Onychinus.” You thought about it for a bit, wondering if you would have to ask Sylus to research the Protocore’s, or if he was already looking into it. Tenebra had a knack for getting their hands on weird Protocore’s and taking them to the black market. Sylus should be at the very least intrigued. 

“I’m on leave for a day but I’m coming in to sort out some stuff.” You sighed for the up teenth time today. 

“It really sucks this had to happen right when our vacation was supposed to happen. I was reeaaally looking forward to getting drinks with you and the others.” You hummed in agreement, tossing the covers of your bed away and standing. 

“We’ll just have to request for an extension. Captain Jenna will be understanding right?” Tara laughs.

“Yeah right. I’m already working overtime over here. Focus on getting better and I'll see you tomorrow okay?” 

“Yes ma’am. Remember to drink water!” Laughing, you hang up and look out the window in your room. 

Dawnbreaker. A nickname maybe. And Dr. Zayne vouched for him? They must’ve met somewhere between the Protofield and Akso. What would one talk about with their copy? Perhaps you could coax those answers out of Zayne later. 

—----------------------------------------------------------

When arriving at the entrance of the Association, Tara wasn't kidding about people murmuring about the “new Hunter” that was brought in. Almost every small group you passed talked about Dawnbreaker. From his good looks, to his association with Dr. Li, to his combat abilities. You rolled your eyes and continued to the UNICORN’s offices, where you ran into Tara. Hugging you excitedly, she dragged you along while chatting about Dawnbreaker as well. 

“I saw him fight, it was unreal how powerful he was!” She kept talking until you reached Captain Jenna’s office. Giving you another hug, Tara waved and left you to suck in a breath before knocking on the door and walking in. 

“Good, you're here.” She looked up from her computer and smiled.

“Reporting for duty, Captain.” She gestured for you to sit.

“I want your side of the story. The other Hunters filled me in on their side of the story but had stated you were the one with the man before they found you.” You nodded and started formulating the story in your mind.

Starting from the beginning you recounted walking in, killing Wanderers, and the strange cold. All the way until you got to the part where you encountered Dawnbreaker. Omitting that you had just wanted to save the man that looked like your childhood best friend, you admitted to resonating with him and how it cleared out the Wanderers in an instant. Then the rest Captain Jenna already knew. She stayed quiet, mulling over the new information. 

“Your Hunter Watch didn't react to him at all when you met?” 

“No ma’am.” 

“Did you resonate with him because he looked like Dr. Li? I understand you were close with him when you were kids.” You nodded hesitantly. 

“I was.. caught up in the moment.” You admitted. She just nodded and went back to thinking. 

“Given the situation, I think you made the right call, even if it was a bit reckless.” she mused. “He’s not registered with any branch of combat specialists in or outside Linkon so he seems to be a vigilante of some sort. Also from what we gather, he is not related to the Li’s at all.” Captain Jenna pulled out a folder with more information. 

“The strangest part is that from the DNA and genetics checks, they all lead to Dr. Li. It is like he is the same man walking around in two bodies.” You nodded, skimming over the text.

“We’re still trying to get more information from him, but he’s being pretty tight lipped.” She looked up at you with interest. 

“He did ask about you though.” 

“Me?” The disbelief evident in your voice. Jenna hummed in response. 

“So, since he is interested in you, you will be responsible for looking after him while at the Association. I have approved a temporary license to be issued to him. In three days another team will be dispatched to the Protofield to do more research, primarily to search for the Wanderer or Protocore Clusters that are powering the Protofield. You will be part of the defense team since you just came out of the hospital.” trying to hide the surprise in your eyes, you nodded and handed the folder back. 

“I know you were looking forward to a break, trust me I was too, but I appreciate you coming in and sticking it out.”

“I understand Captain. Is there anything in particular I’m supposed to do concerning Dawnbreaker?” 

“Keep an eye on him and report to me if he tells you anything interesting. Any other questions?” Short, sweet, and to the point. It was up to you to make it all work out.

“No, that should be all.” Captain Jenna stood and you followed suit, giving a short salute before leaving the office. You rolled your shoulders before going into the office area you met back up with Tara at your desk. This was probably going to be your toughest assignment yet, and you weren't even thinking about the Protofield.

“Soooo, what's your new assignment?” Tara teased as if she already knew. You groaned while flopping down in your chair, pulling up your assignment details on your monitor. 

“Why ask when you already know?” Tara laughed, standing next to you to read the document as well.

3. Oversee individual [1], Name: Dawnbreaker, for duration of stay at HA, gather intel and report strictly to Captain Jenna with details concerning the suspect…

“So you are! Lucky you!” Tara shook your shoulders while jumping up and down. Seeing  it in type made the task seem even more daunting.

“Ugghhh Tarraa, what am I supposed to do? Just go up and talk to him? About what??” You would say your interpersonal skills were good, just not enough to go up to the man who looked like Dr. Zayne and maintain a conversation. What if you messed up and unconsciously mixed the two men up? Mortifying. Running your hands through your hair, you kicked your legs under your desk. 

“You’re thinking about it too much. Just fall into conversation like you always do! I’ve seen you talk to strangers and even Tenebra targets with ease, you’ll do great!” she gave you two thumbs up before handing you a piece of paper about the Protocore’s she was studying. It was typed in her signature unofficial way of typing, abbreviating and using shorthand most of the time, but you read it perfectly.

“This could be an interesting topic of conversation. The Protocore’s seem to be infected with something making the Metaflux go out of whack. It reacts to human touch so they are being quarantined in the research lab for now so I can’t get much more info except the reports they release to the database.” Now this was a lead. Hopefully Dawnbreaker knew more about this and that could lead to other topics of conversation. 

Scribbling down his apartment number, you stand to finally introduce yourself to the man after getting him in this mess. Tara pushes you on and returns to her floor after giving you another thumbs up.

—----------------------------------------------------------

Pt 1 | Pt 2

[npuppet]

[npuppet]

Cleaning up the Timeline

{You do something reckless...}

Read on ao3. Part One.

Tags: Reader/L&DS Men, Romance, Stalking, Mentions of medical procedures, TW! blood

Chapter 14: Chase

“Don’t look at me like that!” You hiss under your breath, pointing up at Mephisto in the tree overhead. “I’m not doing anything wrong.”

Mephisto’s head tilts sharply to the side as if saying, Are you sure about that?

No, you’re not sure about that. In fact, you’re pretty sure you’re making a huge mistake, but you couldn’t stop yourself. This was either a complete waste of time, or a complete trap, but you couldn’t not do it. So, you’re pulling up to your old apartment building, having snuck away after Xavier and Zayne had left in the morning but before Rafayel and Sylus woke up. 

Mephisto’s presence was a surprise, but a good excuse because now technically you didn’t leave the house alone. You had Mephie!

  You sneak inside through the back entrance; one of the people on the bottom floor always left it propped open. You keep your head down, hoping not to be recognized by your neighbors.

It feels bizarre to approach your door, muscle memory has you digging into your pocket for keys that aren’t there, but you pull out a lock picking kit instead. Something you picked up from your time undercover. The locks in this place aren’t exactly cheap, but they aren’t top of the line either, and with a little maneuvering you’ve got the lock picked and the door open. 

You slip inside and quickly shut the door behind you, hopeful no one spotted you. 

The smell hits you first. That foreign scent of home that you only recognize when you’ve been gone a long time. It’s tinged with the stale scent of dust and a lemony floor cleaner.

The place is bare, and it looks so much bigger than you remember. Stepping further into the open room, your hand hovers near your hip– where your handgun waits.

“Okay! I’m here!” You state to the emptiness, turning towards the hall and around, scoping every corner. “You wanted me here, right?”

Silence answers. The cold nothing of an empty house.

The phone in your pocket vibrates and you jump. Heart lurching before you recognize the sensation and pull it out. It’s your old phone, buzzing with a message.

Not safe. 

The message is from a blocked number, and when you try to tap on it, the screen goes black again. You huff in frustration and turn around again, facing the bare walls with a glare.

“Yeah, I got that! I’m not scared of you!” You’re too wound up for this game anymore, and as you whirl about, scouring the corners for someone you know isn’t there– something else catches your eye. 

One of the sconces, slightly askew. 

With narrowed eyes, you approach it. You’d never noticed it before, but there’s something stuck underneath it. Was it always there?

A little jiggling and you’re able to pry your nail around the object and unlodge it from behind the light fixture. It falls to the ground with a soft tap, and you’re unsure of what you’re seeing. Not until you’ve picked it up and held it close. 

A bug. Not an insect, but an audio device meant to record everything in the vicinity– and judging by the little black antenna on the damn thing it was meant to send them somewhere. 

You practically snarl and resist the urge to crush it beneath your foot. “I get it! Someone’s been tracking me! God, this is sick.”

You yank the antenna off the thing and put them both in your pocket. Your stalker has some weird proclivities, like he wants you to know he’s been listening and watching you for longer than you thought. A psycho, no doubt.

Your phone buzzes again. Another message. 

Never safe.

Your stomach drops a little and you're pulling out your gun without another thought. “ Bastard . Stop this game! Show yourself and let’s end this!”

Another buzz. Only this time, it's your new phone. The heavy thing in your pocket ringing again and again, and after you sit the old phone down onto the counter and pull it out, you’re unsurprised to see Sylus’ name lit up.

That took longer than you thought. What with Mephisto sitting on your balcony, watching everything. You’d thought he’d call before you even entered the building. 

You answer it and he’s speaking before you can get a word in, “ Mephisto hardly counts as company, sweetie.”

“Don’t be mean to Mephie. He’s great company.” You quip back, holstering your gun. Sylus doesn’t sound angry which is good, though you’re not sure what it would sound like if he was angry. You have yet to see him so much as raise his voice. 

“Where are you, kitten?” He asks slowly.

“You don’t know?” You grab your old phone and stuff it back into your pants pocket, ready to get out of here, “I figure you were calling to scold me.”

“Oh, I am,” Sylus drawls, “ Imagine my surprise when Rafayel comes banging at my door, squealing about how he can’t find you. You frightened the poor fish, you know.”

You exit the apartment and shut the door behind you, “It wasn’t my intention. I just needed to see something on my own, that’s all.”

“A little warning then, hm?” Sylus sighs and you can suddenly hear another voice in the background. “ Tell her to get back here now! This is not what we agreed to!”

You laugh a little at the high-pitch to Rafayel’s voice. “It’s not like the stalker has actually confronted me or anything. We’ve been running on conjecture that the stalker and the phone virus was connected, but it might be nothing.”

“A gamble only you seem keen to take,” Sylus takes a deep breath and sighs, “ You’re more than capable, darling. I know this. Though, you’ll have to convince your darling fish when you get home.”

You scale the back staircase and head towards the entrance you came in, “I’m on my way back now. Tell Rafayel that–”

Your sentence stops. Your voice halts as you push your way through the door. On the sidewalk is a figure. Clad in a dark hoodie with the hood up, and the moment they see you– they’re walking. Speeding away as fast as they can without it being a run. 

“ Sweetie?” You hear Sylus’ voice distantly, “Sweetie, what happened?”

“Hey!” You shout, and you end the call. Stuffing the phone into your pocket, you’re taking off into a sprint. They’re not getting away that easily. However, at your shout, the stranger begins running.

You bolt past the gate of your apartment complex and onto the street, darting across it to follow the stranger. Blood pumping violently in your veins, you’re a hunter again– with an entirely new prey. 

The stranger darts left and you’re right after him, nearly running into a pair of pedestrians that you barely manage to squeeze past. Mumbling a quick apology. 

The cold winter air is icy in your lungs, and the sweat forming on your brow makes you feel a bit dizzy. Your core is too hot and your skin too cold, but your adrenaline is pumping. 

He’s fast, but he’s also big– so not quite as fast as you. He has to shift around pedestrians as the two of you make your way to a more crowded district of the city. A shopping area that you and your friends frequented because it was so close to your apartment. 

You’re gaining on him.

A caw overhead and you see Mephisto flying above you, like you’re some Disney princess with an animal companion– only you know better. He’s tracking you. Logging your location and recording where you’re going and what you’re doing for Sylus to observe. 

Just as you’re nearly within arms reach of your prey, he darts down an alley. Suddenly encased in shadow. He’s jumping up onto a firescape and scaling it at astounding speed, and you hesitate for only a moment before jumping after him. 

You palms are scraped and red, tiny pinpricks of blood from the sharp metal as you scramble after him. He’s the secret behind all this nonsense– all this headache. If you can just catch him!

He reaches the roof and you hear his hurried footsteps against the pebbled surface. With a sharp grunt, you haul yourself up onto the roof, watching as he sprints faster than he had been before. 

You debate pulling your weapon, but don’t. Deadly force isn’t necessary– despite your desperation. 

Following after him, you breath catches when he effortlessly leaps from one rooftop to the next.  Soaring across the alley and over to the slightly shorter building adjacent to you. 

You skid to a stop at the edge of the building, while the stranger catches himself into a roll. He crouches for a moment, and then rises up. Standing tall and daring to turn his shoulders to you. 

His face is shadowed and too far away to make out anything besides pale skin. You snarl slightly, his posture too haughty for your competitive spirit. Like he’s saying,  Gotcha. 

You take a single second to peer down the six stories down to the alley below before you’re turning on your heel. You storm over to the opposite side of the roof top, shed your heavy coat and then shake your shoulders once. 

You’re running, the ledge fast approaching. Reckless. Your mind screams as your boot finds the ledge and launches  you outward. A dragging sensation in your stomach and the howling of wind in your ear. And, distantly, you hear, “ Don’t!” Just as you jump.

Jaw clenched, you push your body towards the other roof, but your feet don’t find it. 

You slam into the edge of the other rooftop. A brutal crash against your gut before you’re slipping down, arms barely able to catch the lip of the half-wall before you fall down to your doom. 

You choke on nothing. The air shoved out of your lungs from the impact, and survival made you scramble for purchase to pull yourself back up. Reckless. Your mind cries now, sounding too much like Zayne. Foolish. Sylus barks. Dumbie. Rafayel scolds. Impulsive. Xavier chides. Their voices in your head made you feel that much closer to slipping.

Suddenly, there’s a pressure around your chest, and you’re being hauled up over the ledge and onto the rooftop. You collapse onto your stomach and gasp for breath, your entire torso feeling like one large bruise. It hurts to inhale, and there’s drool leaking from your panting lips. 

“Don’t do that again.” A voice snarls at you. Dark and dangerous. You turn your head to see the shoes of the stranger you’d been chasing, and weakly you reach out to try and grab him.

There’s a hand on the back of your head, pushing you down to lay flat, and he speaks again, “Stay down. Don’t follow me.”

He releases you and you hear him walking away, the edges of your vision darkening. 

The frightening realization that you really hurt yourself grips you, but not tight enough to keep you conscious. You try and palm for your phone, but you groan at the tugging it causes on your chest. You can’t catch your breath, and your heart is pounding, but slow. 

A caw behind you is the only solace you have. The only thing that keeps you from panicking when you inhale but it catches into a wet, bloody cough. There’s enough left of your consciousness to spy the splatter of blood in front of you before you pass out.

The next time you’re able to feel anything, you're met with the feeling of floating. Rolling around in a tidal wave of churning as you’re rolled over to your back. 

Next thing you know, you’re in the dark. Or, it feels dark. Peeling your eyes open, you recognize a car, and the warm sensation of someone’s hand on the side of your face. 

“There you are, princess.” Rafayel’s voice in a lighthouse in a storm, drawing you out of unconsciousness and into the safety of the bay. “Don’t move too much. We’ve got you.”

“Akso is the closest hospital,” Zayne sounds different than you’ve ever heard him. A sort of rushed desperation from where he sits in the driver’s seat of the car. 

“No,” You rasp, but too deep an inhale and you’re coughing again. In between wheezes and hacks that bring up more dots of blood, you try again, “N-No hospital.”

“Sweetie, you have at least two broken ribs.” Sylus says from the other side of the back seat, he’s got his hands on your thighs, and you see his Evol swirling around his hands. “Now, hold still, before you puncture your other lung.”

You choke a little and cover your mouth to stifle more coughs. 

The air in the car drops a few degrees, and the air around Zayne’s hands shimmer where he grips the steering wheel, “Short, shallow breaths. Don’t breathe too deeply. Check her heart rate.”

Rafayel’s pressing his fingers against your neck and you’re pulling away, “I-I’m fine…”

Though, as soon as the words leave your mouth, you’re out again. 

“Dr. Zayne, please,” Yvonne insists for the second time, “Dr. Cooper is highly skilled. You know you can trust him.”

“He’s only an attending .” Zayne hisses, the harshest he’s ever spoken to anyone in the hospital. “I’m the chief surgeon. She has protocore syndrome and a heart condition, I should be the one to–”

“I know, I know.” Yvonne reasons again, “But you’re too close to the patient. You know the protocol Dr. Zayne.”

Zayne scowls, but finally– reluctantly– backs off. 

“Why won’t they let you do it?” Rafayel asks with his arms crossed, “If you’re the best one, then it should be you.”

“Protocol.” Zayne snaps out the word like a curse, “My personal relationship with the patient will cloud my judgement. Surgeons aren’t permitted to perform on their family members.”

“Fuck protocol.” Sylus growls. The three of them standing in the empty waiting room, mere moments after you’d been carted off for emergency surgery. “Give the word, Zayne. Say the word and I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” Rafayel scoffs hotly, “Kill the nurses and the other surgeon? Down, dog. Or you’ll make it worse.”

“A well-placed donation to the hospital should suffice,” Sylus replies, a touch less wrathful, “Who’s the Chief again? Dr. Jiang-something?”

The door to the waiting room opens, and Xavier enters– face sharp like he was expecting a fight. “What happened? Where is she?”

“They just took her back for surgery,” Zayne says, eyes downcast as his mind drifts elsewhere.

“Surgery?” Xavier’s expression slackens a bit, a touch of horror dropping into the visceral rage. 

“She broke two ribs and fractured another. Punctured her lung.” Rafayel’s crossed arms tighten, “Nearly gave herself a concussion too.”

“How did that happen? What happened?” Xavier is turning to Sylus, knowing the white-haired man would know.

Sylus grabs Xaver by the back of the neck when he explains what happened– a grounding gesture that simultaneously comforts Xavier, and keeps him in place. 

They spend the next couple of hours milling about the waiting room, in various stages of anxiety-ridden stress. Zayne paces the entire time, watching the clock and muttering about procedures. Rafayel follows beside him, asking about how long surgeries usually take and  frustrated when Zayne gives the same answer– it varies. 

When Yvonne returns to tell them you’re in recovery, it’s a stampede of six foot tall men all crowding around the poor woman. And only when she finally allows Zayne back does the bombardment ease. 

It sucks to wake up to pain. Sucks even worse when that pain is met with restricted movement, scratchy sheets, and the smell of disinfectant. Great, you’re in a hospital. You’ve been in them enough to recognize it even with your eyes closed.

Your face scrunches up in displeasure, but the wrinkle in your forehead smooths when a cool touch brushes against you. “Shh, it’s alright. I’m here.”

Zayne. You try to say, but your mouth doesn’t move. However, you are able to get your eyes open and the blinding fluorescence is too harsh to make anything out. Zayne’s form slowly comes into focus. 

He’s wearing a dark coat, and he looks so pale in the hospital lighting. But, when you meet his eyes, they crinkle softly. That immeasurably soft smile that only Zayne does. He must be able to tell you’re trying to talk through the haze of anesthesia, because he brushes his hand through your hair and hushes you, “You’re still in post-op. Take it easy while the anesthesia wears off. Blink if you can hear me.”

Groggily, you blink.

Zayne leans forward, careful not to put any pressure on you and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Rest. I’ll be here the whole time.”

You’re frustrated you failed to catch the stranger. Irritated to be in the hospital. And embarrassed that you needed to be rescued. The anesthesia makes it all the more difficult to get your feelings straight. You let your eyes drift back closed, sinking back into the darkness that beckons you.

When you open your eyes again, you’re in a different room. The walls are a more comfortable beige and there’s less beeping and the smell of sterility. 

You’ve barely got your eyes open when someone’s pushing into your vision. Violet, and azure, and cerulean. 

Rafayel looks angry and doesn’t give you a second before he’s bombarding you, “What the hell were you thinking? First you leave all on your own and then you jump off a roof!?”

You groan softly and lick at your parched lips, “In my defense….Mephie was with me. And I didn’t jump off… I jumped across. I just…didn’t quite make it.”

“Rafayel, back up.” Zayne commands sharply, and the violet-haired man backs off a smidge. But only a smidge. 

“Care to explain what happened, sweetie?” Sylus approaches from the other side of your hospital bed.

“Can I get a drink first?” You rasp and lift your arm, irritated by the IV connected to your wrist. “And maybe some morphine.”

Zayne’s at your IV immediately looking at the levels and adjusting. Simultaneously, Xavier appears, scooting Rafayel to the side and placing a beige cup with a bendy-straw to your lips. 

Once your tongue isn’t a shrivel raisin, you sigh in relief. “I went to my apartment because I thought ...ugh it’s embarrassing but I thought I might find some clues or something about the stalker.”

“I'm struggling to make the connection here.” Rafayel all but mocks. 

“A glitch.” You begin, leaning forward to Xavier’s waiting hands to make one more sip, “On my old phone. The GPS showed my old apartment and I thought I should go there.”

Xavier jerks your drink away from you, giving you the coldest stare you’ve seen from him since you met him, “You mean you walked into a clear trap?”

You roll your eyes. “I’m a hunter too. I can handle it. I handled it. Nobody was there. Oh! But I found a bug. Sylus, it’s in my coat pocket. Did you guys get my coat? I left it on the room.”

Sylus chuckles at your absurdity, “No, darling, I wasn’t exactly looking for you coat when you were lying unconscious on a roof.”

You click your tongue and shoot him an amused look, “Priorities, Sylus.”

“Recovery should take around six weeks.” Zayne comments as he walks over to Sylus’ side, “You were reckless. Chasing after someone who you had no idea whether or not they were connected at all.”

“Trust me, I’ve learned my lesson.” You wince when you try to sit up, “No more chasing randos on rooftops.”

“Why do I not believe you?” Xavier mumbles.

Four visitors is a lot for one hospital room, and you’re in that god-forsaken room for almost a week before being discharged. In that time, you find that your boys are loyal. And downright matronly. 

It hits you when Rafayel shows up in the morning, as soon as visiting hours start with a coloring book and some colored pencils in one arm, and a bag of snacks in the other. And then when Xavier comes in with a tablet to watch movies on. Zayne’s visits are interspersed between his shifts, and their brief but he never fails to kiss your forehead and double-check your chart. Sylus arrives at night, long after visiting hours are over and you’re sure he’s bribed (or threatened) the nurses to let him in. 

It hits you that they want you. They love you. Not because your easily accessible as their housekeeper, or because you bend to their whims and pleasure them in the way they like. They like you because they like you. 

When you’re finally able to go home, you can’t stop feeling a little giddy about it. Home. Their big, ridiculous, cozy house is your home too now.

You’re propped up on the couch, leaning on Sylus while he scrolls through his phone. He shows you the screen, “What do you think?”

He shows you a picture of a house. A cozy beach house somewhere where the water is an enviable shade of blue that the sky attempts to match. The sand along the beach is pristine and white, and there’s plenty of trees with shade around the house. There’s a large porch facing the ocean, and the house is trimmed with baby blue and matching shutters.

“Pretty.” You comment, “Why am I looking at a beach house?”

Sylus’ laugh vibrates your shoulder, “It’s our beach house, kitten. I thought it might be nice to recover there. What do you think?”

“Did you–” You try to sit up but immediately regret it. Hissing before you relax back against him. Sylus makes a soft crooning noise, and he presses his lips to your hair in a soft, comforting kiss. You take a slower breath and try again, “Did you own this place before I got hurt? Or did you buy it just now?”

“Hm, just now.” Sylus remarks as if it’s nothing. “The other one I had is more of a safehouse. Too remote. So, I found one more suited to recovery. There’s a hospital less than an hour away, but no city noise to bother you.”

You bite your lip to stop from smiling, “Is this really ok? That’s an insane thing to do, you realize that right? Buying a house for somebody just to recover in.”

Sylus laughs again and puts his phone away, “Then I probably shouldn’t mention the house in the country I got for you either. Or the bike I ordered.”

“Stop!” You cry and smack his arm, “I’m going to choose to not believe you because that’s crazy.”

“So, no beach then? Rafayel’s already packing, and Zayne requested time off. I’d hate to disappoint them.” Sylus coos, and he  shifts to lay you a bit more reclined against him.

“What about Xavier?” 

“Wherever you go, the prince is sure to follow.” Sylus says softly. “He’s coming too. Just finishing up some things before we leave.”

You smile and sink into him, “So, when do we go?”

“As soon as you say the word, sweetie.”

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[npuppet]

part 4 to the following previous parts: i, ii, iii (tw: aftermath is never pretty - mentions of eating & skipping meals, unhealthy thought patterns, self-destructive behaviors, body image mentions, unreliable narrator reader, self-isolation, implied dissociation, suicidal ideation, medical procedures (mentions of intubation & extubation, ng tubes for feeding), intrusive thoughts (violence on self), self injurious behaviors (not cutting) & an 8k+ long word count i don't have it in me to edit anymore apologies)

the first thing you register is the light filtering in.

the next thing you register is the obstructive block on your throat. you try to swallow but your throat hurts and it remains open. you try to cough but it’s like the muscles of your throat don’t work, you feel like gagging but all it does is bring tears to your eyes. have they invented a new method of torture? 

there’s a rustle on your left, a switch being pressed and you tense your muscles in preparation for the searing pain. 

someone is calling your name. they never call your name, only sorceress. a door fizzles open. a glimpse of a white coat and you want to apologize, a plea at the tip of your tongue but you’re gagged now just like you are then; the sound you make is deformed, a strangled thing you don’t recognize. at the very least you’re alone. they’ll be the only person who’ll see you this ugly, pathetic, noisy, version of yourself. it’s why they gagged you. it’s why you need to pretend to be dead. it’s why they never like you. you have to be quiet. you have to— 

“breathe,” the voice says. its tone is familiar, but you can’t place it. a blur of white your eyes can’t focus on. the voice says your name again. a different kind of ache fills you this time. “look at me.” it’s been a long time since you’ve been called that gently. you simultaneously want to forget you’re a person or the sorceress character in the movie they force you to watch, and want to hear your name said again to assert you exist beyond what? the thought scatters. 

a sudden drowsiness takes over you and you think maybe you can finally rest. 

———————————————————————

when you wake next, an orange sunset floods the room like fire. you can barely open your eyes.

“recognize me?”

you turn towards the sound of the voice. you want to answer but — 

“blink twice for yes, three for no.”

slowly you blink once. then another. your eyelids feel heavy.

“good,” sylus nods. “you’re at the base. this button will call miss hunter’s doctor friend. i believe she’s talked to you about him before. would you like to do it?” he offers you a tiny remote. 

you reject the offer. he can do it. you’re too tired to lift your hands, numb as they are.

you flick your gaze to the remote on his hand, holding your breath as you watch his thumb press the button. no sound. no click. no pain. you steal a gaze at his direction, only to find him already gauging your reaction and you wish you can hide but the only thing you can do is drop your eyes. turning your head feels like an impossible task with how heavy it is. you grip the sheet furthest from him, hidden by the length of your body, shame curdling in your sternum at being seen to almost lose it over what, a click of a button? how humiliating. 

“the tube is helping you breathe,” he sighs as he crosses his arms, fingers tapping the way he does when he’s thinking. “the doctor might remove it soon, but until then, the pad is next to you to write if you need anything.” he points to the pad leaning against the bed rail across from him, a pen attached by a string to one of its ring binder. one of the prizes you can trade for in the arcade, you think, the pattern a pastel of stars. something miss hunter would get. 

“miss hunter is safe. she’s going to visit again later with more of these… dinos,” he says, holding a purple one up. he clears his throat, placing the plushie next to its various friends on the bedside table. “you’ve been sleeping for three weeks. luke and kieran are placing bets on when you’re awake. you gave them a scare,” he smiles lopsidedly. you watch his mouth shape other words, but you don’t register them, busy taking in his form, healthy and whole as far as you can see.

you’re not sure what you’re exactly feeling, muddled as your thoughts are with the painkillers in your system. confused is a good word, relieved is another. a part of you think maybe you’ve finally bit the bullet and this is your sham of an afterlife, what with being hooked on machines, though you reckon, it’s good that at least your fantasies are granting you everyone’s safety. you know rationally that there is no way you’ll pick the med bay as your gateway to heaven so for some godawful reason, you’re back to the land of the living. 

the door slides open and your stomach drops at the sight of a lab coat; the heart rate monitor beeping faster. the man looks at the heart rate monitor and greets you from where he stands near the door, voice calm as he introduces himself. zayne, miss hunter showed his picture to you before while you were hunting for gifts. that feels like a lifetime ago now. you urge your heart to slow. definitely not in the afterlife. you’d never willingly choose to have a machine humiliate yourself and be read that easily.

he glances at sylus for a brief second. “i’m glad to see you’re awake,” he says, like it is normal to have someone’s heart rate spike up when he enters the room. granted, that might be a regular occurrence given the stories miss hunter has supplied you with. you wish the blankets could swallow you up at the horrifying misunderstanding you can’t even clear, though the alternative of wanting to run away at the sight of his clothes isn’t much better. “does anything hurt?” he asks.

you signal a no and he nods. “good. i’d like to perform a quick exam if you’re not too tired. if at any point you feel uncomfortable, you can tell me and we’ll stop.”

miss hunter has never spoken ill about him, but you also know you’re not really in control. that regardless of what you wish for, you do need to let him do what he needs to do. 

doctor zayne glances at sylus again. “he can stay here if that makes you feel more comfortable.” 

“i’m not leaving,” sylus says to dr zayne. the statement sounding more like a threat than anything, and you hear the doctor sigh as they both look at you, waiting for your opinion. you shrug as much as you can with the wires on you, downplaying how sylus’ presence is the most likely cause you’re not running for the hills right now as dr zayne approaches your bed. 

he runs through a list of questions. any discomfort on your chest? your arm? no? good. 

the minutes tick on as you try to put on a brave face. it doesn’t do anything to lessen the shame each time you tense at sudden movements or when the heart rate monitor outs your facade easily, being soooked by the doctor putting on his stethoscope, the proximity of hands near your body. you hate how exposed the entire process makes you feel, simultaneously hating sylus bearing witness, and clinging on to the fact that he’s strong enough to protect you if anything goes awry. 

when it finally ends and dr zayne asks sylus to follow him, you sink further to your bed for relief. you don’t even care if the doctor thinks you’re too fragile to hear about his findings. all you want is to sleep faraway from beeping machines that out your weakness so easily, and a body that doesn’t feel like your own anymore.

———————————————————————

sylus doesn’t leave your room, or at least he’s always there when you’re conscious. a tablet on his hand; typing on his phone while frowning; a book he’s reading. he’s always in the middle of doing something when you come back to the land of the living. you can’t deny it’s comforting to know his familiar presence is there each time you wake, but you know it’s never good to depend on anything. newfound fears be damned. 

he updates you on the new business ventures he’s evaluating, the new records he’s acquired, the orchestra visiting in the winter. sometimes, when you drift awake, he’s in the middle of recapping his day or the twins’ recent mischief. if you could speak, you’d ask him what he is doing when you’re sure the n109 zone does not sleep and you’ve never seen him this talkative, selective with words as he is. you can write, you suppose, the pad is there but your hands… you don’t want to think about your hands right now. you’re glad he doesn’t push for any response; content to let himself fill in the silence as you drift off to sleep in the middle of him talking. 

———————————————————————

you wonder if sylus knows. your evol doesn’t feel right, like a chunk of it is gone, and you know, instinctively, that the makeup of who you are is different. it’s different from the times that bracelet inhibits it, when you know how to tamper it enough so there’s a little give to let your evol breathe, to not feel so out of it. you wonder if that’s why he’s being kinder than usual. you wish he would just treat you normally. 

———————————————————————

he’s there when you get extubated, fought and insist against the doctor to be there, more like. you would think at this point your shame has run dry. you try not to think about the way he’s seen you with your mouth taped open all these weeks, a tube down your nose to eat, or your heart racing at the sight of a lab coat, the tremors on your hands. never mind that first day where you saw him assessing you as he press a tiny button. you don’t even know if it’s a good thing he never mentions it or if it’s better if he had acknowledged it. you’re just grateful no one has come to visit or at least visit when you’re awake. one person is enough humiliation for a lifetime. when have you gotten so vain?

———————————————————————

miss hunter visits two days after you’ve been extubated, teary eyed and apologetic with doctor zayne trailing behind her for your routine check. she comes bearing another mountain of plushies. you tell her you don’t blame her because you don’t. you try to focus on the conversation instead of the itch to pull the tube out of your nose. it was nice of her to be insistent on saving you even if it ended up being a trap that led you lying here. it’s also still very nice of her to join the search party, you tell her as much. you can’t speak a lot still; your throat still feels sore and it’s silly to care about vanity, but it’s all you can think of these days in bouts of wakefulness and you hate how your voice sounds. dr zayne says the side effects might be gone with time, so you opt to just not speak if you can.

you apologize to her about lying. you figure the cat is out of the bag since you’re in sylus’ med bay, and she just looks at you like you’re infuriating. she starts a tirade of how little that matters to her; you’re still her friend though yes, you’ll make it up to her when you’re better. she jokingly says sylus is technically at fault since if he’s a law abiding citizen you’ll never have to lie. 

she’s sweet, you think. you don’t understand where those vengeful sorceress nonsense they shoved down your throat comes from. you haven’t had a friend in a long time, though you guess sylus should count even if he’s technically your employer, but even if she does have a vengeful side, you have a tendency to look in the other direction so long as someone hands you kindness. so really it doesn’t bother you what the truth is, if they’re soulmates who massacred towns and villages; it’s none of your business. you just want them to be happy. they deserve it after the gruesome end they made you watch on repeat. smoke filling your lungs. a sword on his chest, warm sticky blood all over your body. her body. you wish you can bash your head on the tile. 

sylus calls your name and you blink at him. the same assessing gaze on his face, a barely imperceptible frown. you don’t think he had read your mind, but his gaze unnerves you just the same until he says he needs to take a call. the unspoken question is: will you be okay with the two of them here? 

you figure because miss hunter and the doctor is here, he’d rather take it privately outside for confidentiality so you nod, watching the door slide close that will separate you from his sight.

miss hunter looks at you, amused. “has he been that overbearing since you’re awake?”

you hum, not really sure how to vocalize that it has not been troublesome to be on the receiving end of his watchful eye for the most part, that it is a relief to have him there even if you admit it’s a bit excessive. friends keep each other company right, when you’re able? you know you’ll do the same regardless if it was miss hunter in your place or sylus, so you chalk her question as a rhetorical one.

instead you watch dr zayne, who until now has been quietly looking on your interaction with miss hunter, staring at her. “my evol is not going to be the same as before, is it?”

miss hunter’s smile drops. doctor zayne meets your eyes. “no,” he says, simply. straightforward, but kind. “it most likely isn’t.”

you nod. you’ve braced yourself for the truth, have suspected for a while now. how dull. “does he know?”

“he does.” 

you appreciate the way he does not sugarcoat things even if you have to swallow down your bitterness because it’s unbecoming and time till sylus returns is ticking. you direct your attention to miss hunter. “can you tell me what happened to ignatius?”

both of them share a look.

“he won’t tell me anything,” you plead. it’s not a lie though the tremor is over the top. lately all you can think of is how maybe, maybe they’re right. you are manipulative when you want to be. “it’d help me sleep knowing where he is. is he dead?”

a curt nod from dr zayne and miss hunter sighs. “he’s detained in one of the association’s facilities. all we’ve gotten out from him is about a dragon and sorceress, and the occasional outburst blaming his grandfather. he speaks like his grandfather down to the tone and word choice. the people we could arrest are all the same minus the outburst. our working theory is grandpa is responsible, but we don’t have any proof. and,” she winces, “our funding relies heavily on their company so the higher ups want to brush the whole incident under the rug. the grandfather denies any involvement and he’s still the head of the corporation,” her tone somber. “there is also the insiders deleting any data on you in the database so..” you can read between the lines. you’re not a casualty recorded; you don’t expect any less. you’re not mad, not exactly. it is the logical choice to not bring it to the public, what with the involvement of sylus, and the possible headache you’d have to tell your parents if they ever come close to the news. “i’m sorry,” she says, face pinched in helplessness. 

it’s not her fault. you know this. “it’s alright,” you say in return because what else is there to say? you don’t understand her apology because this always has been the case, hasn’t it? you’re not a person with enough social capital to matter when something terrible happens to you. someone will go through something similar to you and everyone would be affronted, ready to offer support, to rally behind them, but never on your behalf. you get it. you’re always expected to brush it off. it has happened before when you lost your voice, when the restriction repressed so much of your evol it made it hard for you to focus, for you to sleep, and no one believed you because your evol doesn’t manifest outwardly like ice or fire or teleportation — things that can be seen. it’ll probably happen again. 

sylus will probably throw you away now that you’re no longer useful; you know who he is, occasional hangouts aside. the twins are loyal to sylus. miss hunter has her own full life. you’ve outlived your usefulness again and you know the eviction notice is coming. the cycle continues. you squeeze miss hunter’s hands to assure her you’re not mad at her. she squeezes your wretched, trembling hands back. “can i - can i please be alone?” you look the doctor in the eye. “i don’t want any visitors.” 

the doctor nods. 

you think about sylus, who is suspiciously not back yet, and decide you don’t want to see his face. the con of not being in an actual hospital is sylus runs the place. he can go in whenever he wants. “actually, can you induce sleep for me? just this once.” 

miss hunter and you stare at dr zayne until he sighs. “just once.” 

you suppose he pities you. you suppose she does too for not questioning your decision. you thank him as your eyelids droop.

in the haze of your dream, a door opens.

———————————————————————

“let me,” sylus offers from your bedside.

you frown at your hand that shakes without stopping. the spoon clangs into the porcelain bowl again and again. “i can do it.” it’s the first meal you’re going to have in months. the tube is finally gone though your nose still feels a bit irritated. you will your hand to still to no avail, swallowing down the knot of shame forming at the back of your throat.

you know you have to account for your unsteadiness so you fill a quarter of the spoon before bringing it towards your lips, only to have it splatter all on your tray instead. you glare at the stain forming like it can answer for its uncooperative behavior. you refuse to cry in front of him.

“here,” a spoon of soup appears in your periphery. at the end of it is sylus, his face doesn’t betray what he thinks as always. you wish you had his ability to peruse people’s desires; you want to know what he desires the most right now. a hangout with miss hunter probably, instead of playing babysitter. you wonder what he gets out of this silly role he’s heaving upon himself, if he’s going to be the kind of cruel like the ones who pretend to care then up and left deeming you too difficult, too much after realizing you struggle just as much as anyone else. you wonder what kind of lashing out you’ll be on the receiving end of once he gets tired of you, once he realizes he does not have the capacity to revert you back to who you once were, or when he realizes he’s out of his depth trying to help you when you’ve been the one caring for your evol all this time and you know it’s not coming back. 

sylus has a particular brand of cruelty he employs, but you never think he’d do this farce of bastardizing your partnership with him so you’ll get the message he wants you to leave. it’d be kinder to just kill you for being a liability than stringing you along with some kindness no one can sustain forever for the likes of you. you’d hand him the knife even, though he can just eviscerate you to a pulp, which sounds better actually. easy clean up. you’ll understand his motive: you know too much about his operations to exist. you’re no longer of value. you can’t uphold your end of the bargain to resonate with him in exchange for shelter. it’s a tactical choice. you won’t blame him. 

“don’t be stubborn,” he says, the spoon inching closer to your mouth. maybe he poisoned the food. that’s why he’s uncharacteristically eager to feed you. neither of you back down from the staring contest and you don’t really care if you die so you open your mouth.

the broth is light, something easy for your stomach. you swallow and watch the slight barely there smile on his lips as he scoops another spoonful for you. maybe the poison is slow acting though you can’t taste any, or it needs to be ingested in higher doses to be effective. it is clever. poison is less messy of a clean up you suppose. you haven’t seen the twins recently. you guess everyone’s busy and clean up is much faster with a dead body in a med bay with its own waste system.

later, you’ll wake to find the food isn’t poisoned. you live another day. kindness is its own brand of cruelty you think. didn’t you once hear someone say living is more of a punishment than death could ever be? it seems you’ve misjudged how cruel he can be. 

———————————————————————

when you’ve officially been discharged from the med bay to return to your room in the mansion, dr zayne leaves you — more like sylus — with instructions for a biweekly checkup along with cards to a physiotherapist and a therapist. one goes into your hand — your choice, he had said —, the other you’ve been arranged for — the card more of an introduction — and dr zayne promises to find a way to restore your evol you suspect is a bribe or a threat from sylus to not drop your case. 

between physiotherapy sessions for your hands and regaining mobility in your legs, you sleep more than you’re used to — both a blessing and a curse for someone who has trouble sleeping all your life.

sometimes, you dream of the red flowers you used to draw (daturas, you’ve looked it up) splicing into the blood of strangers staining your hands. sometimes it’s that cave again glowing with flames you are sure the memory keeper never showed you or the cat with red eyes and then the next it’s a pillory you’ve been chained to, a chapel with a beautiful stained glass window they’ve taken you from with their disgusted looks, the righteous anger on their faces and hands.

you hate dreaming the most; not knowing which scenes are your subconscious or a product of their influence. it leaves you feeling out of it when you wake.

most days, you zone out, forgetting why you enter a room, dropping sentences midway, forgetting what luke or kieran or even sylus is talking about in the middle of the conversation. each time you’re quick to smooth out their worry. you’re tired. you’re not awake yet. brain isn’t working this early haha.

sometimes if the tv is too loud, you get agitated at the twins when you know it’s not their fault for wanting to watch a movie or do a marathon bake-off in their downtime. harder still to not hate on yourself when they extend an invitation to you and you find yourself wanting to scream so they can turn down the volume and leave you alone. your wheelchair makes it difficult for a swift exit so you always bite the inside of your cheek when one of them would come rushing in to help until you’re blissfuly left alone in silence inside your bedroom.

one of these days you feel like you’ll snap so you opt to limit as much contact as possible with anyone, save for mephie who sometimes peck at your window to be let in. you’ve always been cruel; sometimes you let the little bird in. sometimes, you pretend you don’t see mephie when you drop the curtains instead. it’s probably kinder to ignore it all together than offer the bird some kind of apology each time you cave but sometimes, you just don’t want eyes on you. not when your hands start to shake out of its own volition, not when you feel nothing but a weight on your chest and simultaneously nothing at all, not when you want to curl up and just sleep or stare at the ceiling or the room. your evol a strange thing inside you that feels so dormant you wonder if it contributes to the emptiness you’re feeling. still, the company is nice sometimes, when it’s on your terms. is that so bad?

the first time you look in the mirror since your return, you take note the red gnarly markings on your upper body, the scar starting right below your collarbone and going down to your sternum. a little centralized piece on the center of your chest with branches extending out, a lichtenberg figure.

it’s not like anyone will see; you’re not going out any time soon that require you to wear strapless outfits, but they did see didn’t they? you’re unconscious for a long time but you know someone had cleaned you up, made sure you don’t stink as much as possible. it makes your skin crawl. all those hands pushing you down, the sticky paper gowns from your sweat and sick, a bracelet at a doctor’s office, the clinical snap of restraints — 

you slap the side of your head to break your mind from conjuring the sensations. sometimes, you wonder if all your evol good for is to be your collar, your restraint. 

it’s starting to get tiring sitting through another round of exams with dr zayne, answering questions you deem pointless, just like it was when you were 8 years old still wanting to erase your parents’ disapproval. you suppose at the very least sylus isn’t telling you he’s doing this out of love, that it’ll be better for you to go through with it. follow the doctor. it’s for your own good. run the machine again. one more time, ignatius says.

what does it matter on the very unlikely chance you can resonate with sylus again if you can’t even run? your hands can barely keep a mug of water steady without worrying of spillage. you’re a liability at every mission; it’s more strategic to let you go.

unless it’s another cruel joke he’s adding on to the over the top attentiveness: heap you with recovery efforts his resources can obtain so you can’t file a complaint against him when he deemed you unfit for the job and therefore have to dismiss you. 

it doesn’t make sense otherwise why he’d not dismiss you outright. sylus acts on proof, evidence, intel. information always in abundance. it’s how he schemes, how he survives. 

fine then. 

you’ll leave once your first round of physiotherapy concludes in 8 weeks to save him from the good samaritan act that must exhaust him.

———————————————————————

the messages from miss hunter clutter your phone. sometimes you give her a half-hearted reply of doing okay, other times, you lie and say you didn’t read her message; you’re asleep; sorry for the late reply. it’s been tiring.

sometimes it’s the truth, sometimes it’s a lie. who can tell at this point? you block mephie out from entering. you don’t leave your room except for dutifully going to physiotherapy or checkup sessions with zayne. it’s wasteful of the money he throws around so easily otherwise and you’d rather not have him hang that over you as your fault if none of these efforts work out. one of the twins will usually escort you, and you mentally prep to look fine so they don’t worry. the same excuses on the tip of your tongue when they say they miss you. you don’t even care if they buy it when you tell them you didn’t hear them knocking, you were asleep, you must have been in the shower, must be in the bathroom. let’s watch the movie some other time.

sometimes, sylus helps you with your exercises in the gym. you suspect he watches the camera feed of the med bay during your sessions to know what regimen is imparted on you for the week. after that, he’d always insist on inviting you (more like demanding you) to an evening concert, a museum exhibition, the new eco park that was completed when you were in coma. you say yes sometimes, because getting out of the house makes you feel better but when you do have to use your wheelchair after being on your feet for too long, the attention heaped on you feels too much, leaves your skin feeling clammy that you would rather just stay cocooned at home than a brief lapse of happiness. the stares don’t help either infrequent as they may be. you don’t want him to pity you, add more ammunition to why he should dismiss you. you already know. you’d rather your deficiencies not be listed. 

you also suspect he knows you skip meals. hence, each outing will always involve some lunch, dinner. cafe. a new food truck he wants to try. all conveniently located within walking distance or inside the places he’ll take you. he doesn’t think too much about feeding you bites of his food like it’s normal (though you suppose it is after a while) when your hand spasms. you have to give it to him for not making it weird. his acting has always been good. it’s how he knows how to blend in, adaptive. you wonder if you were so lulled by the comfort of freedom for the first time in your life that you never once thought to parse any deceit in the kindness he offers you. 

you realize there’s a part of you left that can still be broken. 

still, you go because you’ll entertain his games. because you’re also selfish the way you are about the blister of warmth he offered that winter morning, curious to see what other warmth could he offer. because as much as you know the outcome is your dismissal, you wish there was a world someone would want you to stay. 

———————————————————————

you make lists of items in your head. small jewelries you can wear discreetly and pawn off, cash you have on your hand slipped into pockets. you can acquire most items on the road and you don’t want to bring a bag that makes it obvious you’re running somewhere. no one carries bags or suitcases in the n109 zone unless you’re asking for trouble, unless you’re flanked for business. you think you’ll go north. somewhere cold.

when sylus attends business, you breathe a sigh of relief as the twins are easier to manage.

you go through the routine like it’s any other day, bidding for an opening while mapping your route.

some days, you wish you had the guts to tell sylus off. this roundabout way isn’t his style even if it can be. you’ve seen his elaborate schemes and have been a part of it. 

if you weren’t the target, you’d tell him to use the time scheming to be with miss hunter instead. isn’t that what he desires the most?

———————————————————————

it’s a full moon. the mansion is quiet — everyone’s out on a mission. still, you shut your door and move towards the exit quietly.

you’ve only been here for about two years but you’ll miss this place, even sylus’ style of decorating you always give him shit for. both of you do appreciate ornate artistry and good craftsmanship, but you’ll always clash on color choices. you think of running down the halls with kieran and luke on the occasion their pranks are sound enough that you do join in on the fun, anticipating the moment sylus arrives, incensed and exasperated, as a victim. 

“going somewhere?”

you close your eyes at the sound of his voice, bracing yourself to say another lie. you chose tonight because he was supposed to return three days later; he had slip a note under your door while you feign sleep two nights ago telling you about his departure. you triple checked seeing as you keep on forgetting dates and what day it is — the days have been blurring since you’re awake. so you smooth the smile on your face when you turn to him, shoving your spasming hands inside your front pocket. the hoodie was a choice. casual enough for a lie of wanting to walk around if you’re found, perfect for roaming the n109, allows you to layer multiple shirts, stacks of jewelry. “just the rooftop,” you offer placidly.

you like going there before everything: have some fresh air, watch the sunrise, watch the sunset. in the summer, you’ll holler at the twins from the rooftop when you see them coming back from an errand or you’ll pelt snacks on them when you see them going out for some serious mission, laughing at their offense. your little ceremony of good luck for safe returns. one time, the twins roped the both of you to watch a meteor shower and you never tell them this but you remember wanting to stay in that moment forever, no matter how fleeting it was of a wish. you remember thinking maybe this is why people think life’s worth living: surrounded by people you like who treats you like you’re normal, no restraints, no inhibitor, no need to be a liar about not having an evol, no one to placate about having one.

it’s a good dream.

“i’m headed towards there myself,” sylus says, bypassing you to open the door, a silent gesture for you to go first.

you bite back a sigh as you step out the door, knowing full well he’s lying.

———————————————————————

the rooftop is cold this close to sunrise. granted, it’s early fall and the temperature has been dropping. when you woke up in the medbay, they told you 6 months of your life has passed, closer to 7 since you were sleeping weeks off in the bay. you don’t know when you start dreading to see him, why it feels like each time you spend time with him, you default to the same calculated game of chess to navigate conversations, to act, so harrowingly reminiscent of your life before him. 

your friendship has never once been about bearing your vulnerabilities and fears, but at least, you think, you hope it was honest. one built on mutual benefit and clear lines. he gets an extra surge of power, an extra body to be another pair of eyes and ears, and you get a roof over your head. 

it was good. it was safe. the clarity something you can operate in without fear of misstepping or crossing a line that should not be crossed, imposing on the other party with the burden of you as a person. the contract a safety net that so long as you hold your end of the bargain, the relationship is a stable anchor. no sudden changes in attitude, no sudden betrayal, no one suddenly leaving unless a consequence is desired; it’s mutually beneficial to cooperate with the terms of agreement.

you know sylus keeps his tabs balanced. he’s calculating, turning situations that look like it doesn’t benefit him to one that does at the end. it’s what you admire in him. it’s what you wish to learn being around him. it’s what feels safe to you because you know he keeps his words.

you wonder what he wants right now. what else can you offer him now that you’re like this except to terminate your contract? maybe you both have the same mind to talk about it today. it would have been less messy, you think, to have up and left, but if he wants to talk, he can talk. you can linger, just for a bit longer. one last time.

“how are your physiotherapy sessions?”

“good.”

“good.”

you watch your breath dissipate into a mist in front of you, the n109 stretching out beyond that, the railing solid beneath your arms – the only lifeline in braving through the awkwardness of it all. your neck prickles. no interaction with sylus even when you first got here felt this excruciating. you try chartable waters, “how’s miss hunter?”

her most recent message was a picture of him sitting across from her at a cafe, probably after a game or a mission, or something. you don’t care to ask. she had asked you to come by and you had feigned being ready for bed, sending her a picture of you under the blankets for good measure. the first back to back mission wrapped earlier than expected hence the last minute ask, she had said, with a puppy eyed emoji. the plushie on the picture went home with sylus and ended up on your doorstep when he returned. that was a week ago or maybe it was two, you don’t keep count. 

“she asks about you,” he says as his gaze settles on you. 

“she asks about everyone,” you jest, keeping your tone lighthearted because it’s true. she’s just built that way — compassionate, looking after others naturally, hearts on sleeves with nothing to hide. in another life, maybe you could’ve held on to the light. it sounds even like an excuse to you the way you become bitter and jaded, apathetic, skeletons in your closet you don’t even know what to show or how to open the door. you’re glad they have each other; she’ll be a good influence on him. you hope he won’t mope that much like all those months ago when she didn’t remember him. she still doesn’t but their relationship seems to progress well. one day maybe she’ll renovate your room in the mansion, make it into the plushie room she talks about, seeing as some of her plushies live there already. 

you pretend you don’t see the way he doesn’t like your deflection. it’s not your best comeback, but the conversation is not entering charted territories. it’s derailing to you, to a festering wound you can’t tolerate. you can read between the lines his unspoken question, opening, whatever you want to call it, but it all leads to the dance of pretense people do to show they care when they don’t. though that isn’t fair, you suppose sylus has moments where he does care on his own for you, the way one does their assets, or a subordinate. you just know with your evol gone the interest that has sustained that care to emerge from him is probably extinguished. 

you imagine a world where he takes interest in you, not because of your evol or your mind, but because you just happen to share similar interests in music or décor choices. it might be easier then to coax your mind into believing he sees you as a friend, not a subordinate, when your relationships have always been built on the abilities you can offer and end when you no longer suit their needs. but you don’t have it in you to hope. 

it was a good run. breaking your restriction, meeting new people, playing pranks with the twins, the opera with sylus, obscure hangouts the twins roped both of you in. it’s more than you could’ve imagine could happen to you. but dreams end and someone always has to leave, and for the first time, you’d rather do the leaving than let his dismissal taint what you cherish.

“you don’t have to do this, you know,” you start, forcing the instinct to not curl up and hide. you don’t want to give him more reasons to think you’re too fragile.

in your periphery, you see his eyes narrow. “do enlighten me. what is it do you think i’m doing?”

“you’re not stupid, sylus,” you deflate, all energy out of you. “it doesn’t suit you.” 

“i know i’m not,” he replies. “that’s why i’m asking you. what is it do you think i’m doing?”

you sigh, turning to face him. “when are you planning to let me go?”

he frowns. “let you —”

“don’t lie,” you cut him off, feeling tired rather than angry or sad. you watch him watch you. the confusion in his face aggravates you. “please.” 

“i’m not.”

briefly, you turn to hide the smile stretching your lips, ugly and taunting. “and you expect me to believe that?”

hurt flashes across his eyes. “do you think so lowly of me?” 

this wasn’t the script you planned for. you’re the one who’s supposed to be hurt, not him. you expect his amusement, a teasing jibe perhaps to soften the blow, something along the likes of took you long enough. or a quick execution. no face changes, no outward interest, no questions, the way he’d take out people who go against him: with actions, not words. you didn’t expect the pained look, the slight disbelief, the offense.

“no,” you whisper, backpedalling like the coward you are. “no, of course not.” 

the wind whips through your hair. it seems you have made the wrong calculation. you replay his words, the implication that he found it offensive to think he’ll dismiss you. you never meant to imply him being terrible; no one was ever hurt of you leaving. 

“i might not be able to resonate with you anymore,” you state, offhandedly, forcing your hands to still on the railing, not looking at him.

“i don’t care about that.” 

“well, you should,” you admonish him lightly, hating how sure he is of his answer, like it’s been etched in the tip of his tongue, ready to be deployed at any given second. your breath comes out shaky. “and i think you do. you forced doctor zayne to find a cure, didn’t you? he might not find one.” 

“whether he finds a cure or not, you’re welcome to stay.” 

“that’s not how a conqueror runs things, sylus,” you smile, tilting your head to see his expression, hoping he’d find fun at the joke except it falls flat and his eyes aren’t amused. well, tough crowd tonight. you sigh, turning back to view the moon. “in any case, it’s a waste of resources throwing funding to a research that won’t pan out. there are better investments when you also already have miss hunter to resonate with you.” if you did one thing right, it’s to at least take the brunt from the both of them. you don’t think sylus would be very happy had it been miss hunter in that room, losing her evol. or maybe she wouldn’t even be in that room in the first place. she’d probably know how to cart him away or fight ignatius back given her hunter training. they’d make a speedy escape without any casualties. “not that i don’t appreciate it, but you don’t have to feel bad about what happened, you know? it was my choice.” 

the silence stretches. his eyes never leave you. a flock of birds fly through the sky. the moon illuminating their path as the wind picks up. you think he’s got it now that you understand he needs to let you go, why he needs to let you leave, not to insult him but because it’s just the way relationships are built upon upholding benefits, when he turns to face the horizon too. you feel the tension melt out of you. this is good isn’t it? this is what you wanted. if he kills you, then that’s good too, you suppose. it’d save you the trouble of building a new life, orlooking for materials that were etched in your brain before sylus had given you a new life. a permanent way out just in case you don’t have it in you to start fresh.

sylus slides you a key. 

“what—“

“it’s a cottage by the sapphire isles,” sylus says, not looking at you. you suppose it’s his way of payback. “it was supposed to be your birthday gift.” 

your birthday isn’t for another two months and the sapphire isles is not known to be cheap even with his deep pockets. “sylus, what—”

“i’m not going to force you to stay if leaving is what you want,” he says. 

the key is cold in your hands. you feel unmoored. “sylus, you can’t — this is too —“

“but you can give your life up for me?”

you glare at him. “that’s not the same and you know it.” 

he clenches his jaw. 

you’ll be stupid to not take the key, but, “i can’t accept this,” you slide it back to him. 

“take it as your severance pay, then,” his voice, dismissive. the same tone he’ll use to end a meeting that bores him. the key sitting between both of you on the railing. 

when sylus gets like this, you know his mind is made up. isn’t this what you wanted? the dismissal is as official as it’s going to get. why then does your heart feel heavy? you take in his profile, the slope of his nose, the boldness of his brows, his eyes dissatisfied and closed off to you. 

shouldn’t there be relief to know you’re right, that he’ll let you go? that you’re not chained to wait another day for him to turn the tables on you? still, you wish things were different. you thought he’d be happy, the same relief reflected on him. you don’t want to make him sad. you thought it’d be mutual, expected — him wanting you gone, you wanting to leave — you thought this was something both of you want. 

“if i take it, you should promise you’ll spend more time with miss hunter then,” you’ve taken too much of his time, you think, all those times he helped you with your exercise and take you places could have been better spent with her even with her sparse free time. it’s only fair that if he’s giving you your dream, he gets his too. 

“she’s not my soulmate,” he says, shifting his weight to look at you. 

your eyes widen, “what?”

“she’s not,” he confirms again, his eyes unreadable.

“then,—“

he’s not lying. his expression is open, but there’s a slight cautiousness in his gaze. does he think you’re going to get mad at him for going through those months for nothing? it allowed him to live so you’re not upset at the choice you made, you knew what could happen albeit not the extent of losing your evol when you offered yourself to ignatius. you’d make the same choice regardless because… because it’s him. it’s only proper right? he’s the leader. you wonder how he knows, but you don’t ask. sylus always shares when he wants to and you’re content with that, knowing this is a matter personal to him. 

for a fleeting second, you entertained a different possibility, one that is absurd and would make everything worse. the wind loud in your ears.

he shrugs, an easy carelessness in his movement which doesn’t look like someone who lost someone he’s been looking for for years, a smile on his lips. “i’m taking a page out of your book. see if there’s more to the world than soulmate searching.”

you study him, notice the wistfulness that laces his playful tone. you wonder what changed. sylus never strays from his goals. if he wants something, he goes after it with confidence and the certainty of someone who has never lost anything. 

he looks at peace with his decision so you let the question die. you understand the olive branch he’s extending to you to smooth out the tension from before. maybe telling you about this was his way of accepting you leaving. he surprised you with the key, with the truth, but you’re satisfied you got what you wanted. a clean cut on your terms, mostly. “well, if you need a new scenery, you just bought the sapphire isles,” you smile. “i’ll keep an eye out for her.” 

“you do that,” he nods, playing along. the wind tousling his hair, a soft expression on his face. it’s not like you know what to look for either but that’s neither here nor there. this is a goodbye isn’t it? a surprisingly gentle one.the knot on your chest unravels. maybe this is the one ending you get to keep that doesn’t have to end with scorn. 

———————————————————————

end notes:

one last chapter to go. 

sorry for the hold up. hopefully this 8k+ monstrosity made up for it. if the quality is lacking, my apologies. unfortunately, i don't have time to do another revision and i just need to get this out or nothing will be posted forever.

i grappled with what sylus would do — someone who is confident that his love is pure and true yet he made efforts to pursue miss hunter only to realize it was the wrong person would probably make him reflect a bit.

he’s relentless in going after what he wants but knowing that  a) she’s not in the headspace to do so (girlie’s been through torture ty) & b) reader’s less than enthusiastic thoughts / confusion on loving someone just cuz they’re a reincarnation of his soulmate in the past, to me can only end in him respecting her wishes for now.

lmk your thoughts <3 ty for being here!

yes the sapphire isles name borrows from game of thrones idk it just sounded right.

as always, if you want to be added or removed from the tag list, feel free to say so. thank you for your interest!

tags: @beewilko @mangooes @waowo @relentlessconqueror @napa-the-yappa @everythingistaken00 @zara-renata @glidingsoul @emneedshelp @22carolina08 @christianacj27 @t4naiis @mglwhor3 @midiplier @chillycheem @euaoquerolermds @koldusek @brahmsheelshire084-1 @carneries @leekingsman @aishies-stuff @libriomancer @just-another-reader1098 @kiarathace @zonked-times @alfredosaws @kazbrkker @lunaizhere @zephyri1388 @dreamingoftomorrow @everywherenothere @g-a-l-a-x-y-child @diaflower @lucifer-says-hii @virtualpizzapolice @satansdaughter123 @chaoticfivesworld @crutoyu @alahamums @crowskitten22 @vvhira @poptrim @lexlibrary @magpie-the-goblin-girl @fealy @professionalbystander @sh1zhu @crowsthirstnest @getokita @moonlight-inthe-sea @aishasylus @ollie-the-fae

[npuppet]

who did this to you?

with: zayne, caleb, sylus

content: angst, mc has bruises from an attack