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Poised with his usual finesse, Sylus ponders the unusual circumstance he’s found himself in. The rhythmic pattering of rain against the windows does little to drown his restless thoughts, and neither does the steady ticking of the wall clock or the faint aroma of incense offer any solace from the turmoil of his emotions. His gaze flicks down to you sprawled across the length of his plush white couch. Your bare legs stretch out, occupying most of the damned space while he’s confined to his corner, pushed against the armrest.
He sighs, catching sight of the faint red glow of the tether whirring between your wrists. Once again, you and him have fallen victim to the enigmatic linkage that causes way more trouble than it’s worth. With you asleep and him bearing the weight of your head on his lap, he’s unable to escape, forced to sit still with the bondage that ties you together at a distance that makes it impossible to ignore you.
So he sits there, left to his thoughts. His mind wanders down a hall of memories with doors cracked just enough for him to peek through to rekindle the memories he has of you. He passes by and leaves some untouched without a spare glance; those doors have rusted and aged from years of neglect in fear of being drowned by emotions he doesn’t dare revisit.
Instead, he finds himself returning to a specific door built just recently. One that unconsciously brought a grin to his face. Fortunately, no one around him was conscious enough to notice. The memory, a pristine and polished door located at the beginning of the never-ending hallway, is one that consists of him coincidentally meeting you in the lobby of the hotel downstairs just hours before:
“Sylus?” Your body spins around at a speed that bemuses him. How you figured out he was behind you, he has no idea.
“Careful sweetie,” Sylus drawls, eyes glinting with mirth. “Spin any faster and I would start to think you might actually be excited to see me.”
You ignore his teasing. Sylus remains standing on the tiled floor of the elegant hotel lobby under a crystalline chandelier, hands hooked into the pockets of his dark jeans. He quietly observes your vigilant demeanor, growing amused as you skitter to his side— but not before scanning your surroundings like a meerkat.
“What a wary hunter you are,” he appraises.
You merely hiss once you were close, “What are you doing here?!”
He lets out a chuckle. Leaning down to respond by your ear like he’s disclosing his darkest secrets, he matches your dramatic carefulness. The sweet scent of vanilla fills his nose, and his tone deepens, “What does it look like I’m doing here? I’m checking into my room.”
“But here?!”
“I have business to attend to nearby.”
It’s endearing how quickly doubt appears on your face; you’ve always been so easy to read.
“What a coincidence you happen to have business deals here in the Arctic the same week I have to travel for work.”
Sylus’s brow lifts at that. He observes the slight furrow between your own brows, a habit you do when you get annoyed by his antics. If anything, that makes him all the more keen to stand here with you and delay for a bit to bless you with his smug aura. “Are you suggesting you thought I came here for you?”
His question seems to hit the spot he was hoping to probe and you instantly scowl, “I’m saying you’re a stalker. Your timing is always so questionable.”
“I have better use of my time than to follow you around everywhere,” Sylus dismisses, rising from having to lean down. But even before those words escaped his lips, fleeting images of mechanical black feathers and the distant echo of cawing flashes between his thoughts.
“As if. Remind me to shoot your pet bird when I see him again,” you mutter under your breath, causing Sylus to blink in surprise at how in sync you were with him. Easy to read, definitely, but you’re hard to anticipate; something he has yet to become accustomed to. He recovers by throwing over a dirty look as he removes his hands from his pockets.
“Mephisto is a crow. Not a pet. He follows you to ensure your safety.”
“Same difference.” To make your point, and possibly to assert the last word, you push past his broad frame before he could make any first moves to walk away. Unfortunately for you, your steadfast pace toward the elevators falters right when Sylus feels himself get yanked in your direction by the arm. Your scowl deepens as you turn around,“What do you want—”
Your gaze falls; a stark contrast to the mischievous grin drawing its way on his face when the both of you scrutinize the transparent glow of the rope bounding him to you like cuffs. Weaving into his previous feelings of apathy, built from his overnight flight and the cryptic phone call he disconnected from prior to your arrival, was newfound sinful delight at the turn of events. Oh how interesting life became once you stepped foot into his world.
“Looks like we’ve found ourselves in a predicament,” his voice drops a couple octaves that rivals a panther’s purr. Fueling his amusement was the growing panic of a trapped lioness meeting his dark, unwavering gaze.
Now, you and Sylus were relaxing on his couch in the penthouse many floors above the lobby he found you in. You, the trapped lioness that you were, are asleep— but it seems as if you were the one now trapping him into place with how you lay, peaceful and unbothered, on his lap.
The cool surface of his coin flips between his fingers. He listens to the steady rise and fall of your breathing. He watches the fluttering of soft baby hairs tickling your forehead; how the skin between your brows twitches in your sleep. He feels the warmth of your lithe body seeping through the fabric of his pants and heats his cool legs. His gaze traces across the length of your lashes, and below that, to a tiny mole just above the apple of your cheeks— if he brought out a hand, would your skin feel like silk under the pads of his fingers?
Too enthralled, he almost doesn’t register the disappearance of the soft whirring that marks the presence of the Evol Link. Until a phantom weight, one as light as a feather, fades away from his wrist. The red hue now gone and his arm free.
Thunder suddenly rages outdoors. The rain clamors a little harder than it did a few minutes ago.
Sylus looks ahead of him, feeling tension pinch between his brows. The heat of your body on his lap seems to seep into a part of his chest where he didn’t know he could feel such warmth in.
He should stand up right now while you were asleep. While the tether is gone. He should stand up and pretend that his body wasn’t warmer than usual; that his head isn’t a befuddled battlefield. He should leave and return to the business he came here to deal with. After all, what does it matter if he leaves you to lay on the couch without him? He should be grateful the linkage decided to release the two of you at such an intimately quiet, vulnerable moment easy for him to slip away from.
Outside, the rain doesn’t let up. A flash of lightning lit the dim room for a millisecond.
The weight of you is what stops him— or so he tells himself. Your head weighs like lead and keeps him rooted to the spot, he reasons in his head. He has no hope of freeing himself if you were chaining him to the confinement of his couch with the mere force of your lax figure asleep on his lap. How could he ever move and face your terrifying wrath when you awaken to him escaping?
Against the window, rain returns to the rhythmic, thrumming pattern. Thunder only echoes in the distance.
“Tch,” Sylus clicks his tongue, looking down at you with mild frustration. Slowly, he lifts a hand, and with a gentleness that betrays his irked expression, runs the back of his index finger down the side of your sleeping face. He hums lowly, stroking your cheek, “You’re working overtime, Miss Hunter. Even in your sleep, you trap the bad guys right where you want them.”
His finger freezes when your head shifts under his touch.
Pausing for a few seconds until you settle once more, he savors the smooth and soft planes of your cheek as his lingering touches continue downward. His finger hesitates at the base of your chin, contemplating a bit before landing on the top of your shoulder. He takes his sweet, sweet time tracing a soft line down your bicep, past the inside of your elbow, down the sensitive skin of your forearm, circling at the inner flesh of your wrist, and to the sensitive center of your palm, lazily drawing symbols to entice the goosebumps rising on your skin.
Sylus caught sight of scarlet-red light shimmering in the space above your wrist again. A dim halo, the size of a bracelet, appears from thin air and grows around both his and your wrists simultaneously. He observes with idle curiosity as two halves of a tether from both of your respective bracelets slither out from the ring. The two strings of light float and wave in empty space, dancing around the other, before attaching in the way a magnet snaps into place. A seamless, unbreakable bond.
He chuckles to no one in particular but to the rain pounding against his window. “Would you look at that….You just can’t stay away, can you?”
His gaze, after lingering for a minute longer, leaves the girl on his lap and looks for his phone. If he was forced to be bound to you for a moment longer, might as well put his time to use with important matters. With his free hand, he dials a number he’s very familiar with and hears the automated voice reciting the bidding process through his speaker.
“It didn’t just bind us together for no reason. There must be a way to…” Looking down at your contemplative figure now sitting beside him, Sylus frowns.
You’ve woken up a couple hours ago when he was still making bids into the black market. Upon realizing that the Evol Linkage still has you and him attached to the hip, you made your annoyance well known. To his displeasure, you sat as far away as you could until the bond wrought still. Tethered hands laid between both of your stiff bodies, arms outreaching to create as much distance as possible.
He doesn’t say much about it.
In the past moments before this, you troubled him with an interrogation, bombarding him with questions he couldn’t give answers to— not just because of the classified nature of his activities, but because he himself couldn’t fully grasp the motives behind the finer details of his trip. Why had he stayed in this specific hotel when there’s others that better fits his needs? Why arrive the same day and stay for the same duration as… as you? What is it about you?
When you don’t even remember him?
His head starts to ache.
“How?” Sylus responds to your outer monologue, resting his elbow on top of the armrest and massages against the tense muscles of his forehead. “You were sleeping the last two times it untethered itself. You even pinned down my arm. It was very… inconvenient.”
A half truth, he admits.
“Oh, you just gave me a new idea.” You perk up excitedly, “If we recreate the circumstances of when it disconnected itself, we should be able to figure out the trigger, right?”
Sylus gazes at you with incredulity, “Hmm? That sounds more like superstition than science. Do you expect me to lull you to sleep?”
“Do you have a better idea?”
You shoot him a look that screams don’t judge my ideas, yet challenge gleams in your eyes. One look at your eager face, and before he can even make a conscious decision on his own, his body already decides to surrender itself to your provocation. He cannot help but release a defeated sigh, turning his head to look away from you lest you see the mess of a mental conflict he’s in.
“…It’s 2:30 P.M., sweetie. Time for bed.”
With a snap of his fingers, red and black mist swirls around his hand. Thick, dark curtains swish closed to block any source of light from the windows. The room, now blanketed in darkness, is only faintly lit by a small accent lamp somewhere in the corner.
He feels the dip of the couch shift closer as you find a position to rest. The warmth of your body sitting right by his side was… rather delicious. Instinctively, his arms grew a mind of their own and wraps around your waist to guide you onto his chest. You let out a small yelp at the action, and Sylus rests his eyes shut with a satisfied grunt. Despite the awkward embrace and your uncomfortable fidgeting, the return of your weight against him feels like a comforting gift.
Though, he doubts you’d be able to sleep after the nap you took. He also doubts that the tether would disconnect based on your theory. Nonetheless, he feels particularly inclined to entertain you for no reason at all. If you want to be lulled, then your wish is his command.
So, shamelessly, he sings you his lullaby.
And he feels your back stiffen against him.
“Sylus, has anyone ever commented on your singing before?”
He opens his eyes, dark crimson looking down at your aghast face. You tilt your head up to look at him from his shoulder.
“At the very least Luke and Kieran gave a round of applause,” he responds.
Your lips twitch with mirth, “…Explains why they’re your right-hand men.”
He remains silent, putting the subject— and his vocal cords— to rest after your subtle jab at his singing. He leans back into the white cushions to relax, his loose arms around your waist pulling you with him. With your body heat and weight slotted against him like a puzzle piece, you seem to be lulling him to sleep instead. He was about to succumb to exhaustion when, to his disgruntlement, you end up fidgeting restlessly in his hold. He has half the mind to shoot a snippy remark about your lack of restraint and composure until you throw your legs over his to rest your ankles over the armrest. A light feeling flutters within him as you fully relax on his body, burrowing yourself to sleep into him.
That is, until your eyes snap open and scowl at the wall as if it was the cause of all your problems.
“This is awful,” Your frustrated groan reverberates into his torso. “Do you have other ways to lull people to sleep?”
Lazily, Sylus shakes his head. He removes an arm from your waist to cover the yawn that threatens to come out. Closing his eyes, he responds with mild interest and a kernel of irritation, “As if. I give you an inch, and you take…”
The world disappears as he flickers in and out of consciousness, his body heavy and secure under everything that is you despite how aggravating you can be.
“Sylus?” He hears you somewhere behind the muted fog between his ears. “Every time we run into each other, something bad happens. You must be the harbinger of trouble.”
The furrow between his brows deepens at the insult and at the sudden poke prodding his chest. Irritation bubbles from within. He lifts a hand to massage the headache caused by your incessant ramblings and complaints, a threatening grunt of warning escaping him.
“Haha… You were still awake, huh…” Your bashful tone makes him crack his eyes open, and he meets your sheepish smile. That smile alone tames his impatience into a quiet simmer; how perplexing.
Letting you off the hook, he merely scoffs. After sending a dark glance, he draws his eyes close again and sinks into the couch. Despite everything—the aggravating questions, your restless movements, the exhaustion, and the tether that refuses to grant him any semblance of personal space—he is acutely aware of the way your ear rests against his chest, just above the rapid thrum of his heart. Every subtle shift of your body lights his skin on fire, and it unsettles him far more than he cares to admit.
“Sylus, I can’t sleep.”
“Is that so?” He murmurs. “But I can.”
A beat of silence passes, and one might think sleep has finally caught up to you. He himself would have fallen asleep if not for his sharp senses, ever so attuned to you, detecting a subtle shift in the air. Sixth sense tugging up at something, he silently opens his eyes, his hand snapping to catch your Evol-free wrist inching toward his nose. His hazy gaze flickers from your hands to your wide-eyed expression—caught red-handed.
Laughing awkwardly, you lift two fingers into a ‘V’. “…Hey there. How many fingers am I holding up?”
Sylus tilts his head, sporting a bland glare, and the heat behind his calm facade smolders, “Close your eyes and stop talking. Today’s patience is wearing thin.”
Hoping to silence you, he presses the flat of his large palm against your forehead, pulling your head to his shoulder quite a bit roughly this time. He succeeds within the first two seconds, reveling in the silence, until the squirming of your body returns at full force.
That’s it.
Crimson eyes ablaze, Sylus abruptly stands up, causing you to promptly gasp. With one arm securing your knees and the other wrapped around your torso, he pulls you close against his chest and strides purposefully into another room.
“Wait—Put me down! I was just changing my position. Go back to sleep!” You yelp, but despite your protests, your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, evidently fearful of being dropped.
Sylus effortlessly tosses you onto the soft, silky plush of his bed regardless of your tight hold. A predator-like gleam flickers in his darkening glare as you push yourself up on your elbows and move back away from him. For a brief moment, he admires the sight of you sprawled on his bed. Rays of sunlight from an uncovered window illuminates your flushed, golden skin. Your eyes glitter like stars under the sparkling sunlight; an ethereal sight— one that makes the sun just a little bit more bearable.
—But he catches up to you quite quickly before you can roll away during his momentary distraction, the moment of vulnerability gone as fast as it came. Leaning over your lithe body, his calloused hands press your wrists into the soft mattress, the silver rings on his fingers cool against your skin.
“With you around,” he teases into your ear, “I’ve already gotten plenty of rest.”
He glances at your flushed face, the sunlight that blessed your skin now blocked by the looming shadow of his larger figure; a fitting metaphor and a reminder of who he is to you. With narrowing eyes, he feels the heat of the sun burning the side of his face.
“Calm down. And stop looking at me like that. You’re not thinking about using the Aether Core in your eye, are you?” You drill into his right eye as if searching his soul for remnants of the crystal shard itself. Your caution was appropriate; you and him never started off on good terms, and admittedly, he was never above using his Evol on you. Priorities change, however, and he hasn’t found himself having to use it on you— for the betterment of both worlds, he concludes.
Suddenly, using your arm bound to the linkage, you try to push him away by his shoulder. He grunts, but is unable to move and remarks, “Why isn’t it tethered to both of your hands?”
“I’m not the same person I was when we first met. You won’t sway me that easily.” You speak with conviction, referring to the manipulative power of his Aether Core. But Sylus doesn’t miss the unease in the way your body tenses and the way you drown yourself further into his formidable gaze.
A pitiful poem you two were; two weathered souls of similar fates crossing paths like star-crossed lovers, bound by forces neither of you could understand, let alone escape. If history has a way of repeating, even after a millennia, there’s a chance fate wouldn’t be as merciful as it should’ve been back then lifetimes ago.
The unforgiving weight of his right eye, though feather-light and hardly perceptible, becomes more pronounced with each passing second you stare at it. Buried in the recesses of his mind, memory from a time he refuses to resurface flashes into his vision. Tendrils of scarlet licking like fire into the empty darkness— cold, sharp tools sliding through his skin and the sterile, acrid stench of bleach— the relentless, mechanical whirring and the searing pain embedding deep within the socket of his eye—
“Let go!”
Your frenzied shove against his chest grants him a welcoming respite from his haunting visions. However, in forgetting the tether that tangles between your arms, Sylus loses his footing and gets yanked right on top of you. Collapsing fully on the mattress, his body meshes into your own, leaving no part of your skin untouched. It was like the world was testing his restraint— whether it’s restraint of his burning irritation or… restraint of something deeper, more sinful, that has awakened and was yearning to devour.
To make matters worse, he feels your hand abruptly slap onto his face in a desperate attempt to push him further away.
Glancing between your fingers digging between his eyes with a frosty glare, his lips curled, “What did you do?”
“You threw yourself at me! I didn’t do anything.”
He raises your hands entangled in the glowing linkage, “How do you explain this then?”
The magical Evol rope shortened significantly. The red ring became intricately wrapped by a vine-like thread curving around the red light, glowing a deep black reminiscent of his Evol. If the once long tether had offered some semblance of personal space, this new bondage provided none. Your shock and exasperation would’ve been amusing to Sylus under different circumstances, but with his aggravation towards you—stemming from the Evol Linkage that caused this mess—he’s blinded from feeling anything but.
Looking past him, you sigh in defeat. “You need to move first if we want to get out from this position. You’re heavy.”
He growls, “…Get your hand off my face then.”
“They’re like two snakes wanting to devour each other,” You say, inspecting the new type of linkage.
“What a clever metaphor.”
You and Sylus have found a more… comfortable position on the floor with your backs against his bed, shoulder to shoulder in awkward silence.
Just minutes before, the two of you fought in a silent battle of whose hand got to rest on whose lap. Initially, your bound arms rested on his thighs until you grew petty and tugged your hand back into your space. Sylus, being competitive, pulled his arm back onto his leg. This little tug-of-war continued for a good minute before he finally stuffed your hands into the narrow space between his and your thighs, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you. You merely scoffed in response.
“You know, sweetie, the more a snake’s prey tries to escape, the more tightly it gets strangled.” With his free hand, he idly checks his fingers with an air of nonchalance, “Maybe the Evol Linkage got shorter because you were thinking of getting rid of me just now.”
Another challenge. Truth or not, he was curious to hear your answer. There has always been a part of him that cares about how you saw him— about what type of light you view him in and whether you’d choose to join, or at least accept him, in that light. It’s a truth that he refuses to accept entirely because if he does, that would mean you take a rather large hold over his life. And he couldn’t have that, now could he?
Much to his displeasure, he didn’t get anything useful from you.
“What time is it?” You say instead.
Pushing away the aching, unfulfilled hole, he glances at the light from behind the curtains. “6:30, give or take,” he purrs.
You sit up with a start, eyes widening. “This is bad. I need to tell my colleagues I won’t be there.”
Ah, that’s right. You were here with your work friends for a symposium. Funny how he forgot your true purpose here when you were with him the whole day glued to his side.
Lost in thought, he allows you to lead him into his closet where an assortment of hats and sunglasses lay side by side in an orderly fashion. You silently surveyed your options before picking up sleek black shades and a plain black baseball cap. You turn around, flinching away when you get startled by how your nose almost knocked against his chest. It definitely did not go unnoticed by Sylus.
“Your fashion taste has improved immensely,” he remarks with a roguish grin while you stand on the tips of your toes, carefully sliding the glasses onto his nose. The room darkens behind the shades, but he’s still able to make out the soft details of your face with how close you’ve gotten. He exhales, “Do you usually put sunglasses on others like this?”
“Only on those who need to be disguised to get into my room shared by other hunters. Now, lean down.”
A loose chuckle escapes him, but he follows your order. With a sly curve on his lips, Sylus leans forward until his face is just inches away from you, his necklace dangling over his neck. Head tilting into a small bow, he locks his burning gaze with yours. It was a gracefully formal action so smooth, so natural, like he’s done it many times before. As your cheeks flush a deep red that rivals the hue of his eyes, a wicked feeling curls into his gut. His tongue peeks through his mouth to swipe at his lips.
The atmosphere shifting into something more anticipatory, you mutter shyly, “No need to be so regal.”
“You told me to lean down, and so I did. Are you going to put it on?” Using his chin, he gestures to the cap gripped between your fingers. He then breathes quietly into the stillness, “My Queen?”
With your unwavering gaze, he should’ve expected your next move. It was like something clicked in your head, and you roughly shove the cap onto his platinum blond hair to make his infuriating smirk disappear. You huff with frustration—or is it embarrassment?— before adorably pushing past him. Sylus earnestly laughs as he gets dragged out the door of his penthouse and into the elevator, leaving the place lighter than he did hours ago.
As you pull him down the hallways, it greatly entertains him that you were more distressed about being seen than he was. He also has an inkling suspicion that you were equally annoyed with his lack of concern of being caught.
To your luck, you didn’t run into anyone you know.
After shutting the door to your empty room behind him, he blinks in disbelief when, out of nowhere, you pin him against the door. Your hand covers his eyes over the shades.
“Other people’s stuff is here. Close your eyes. And don’t look.”
Softly chuckling at your words, Sylus impatiently removes the black cap and shakes his hair like a dog to fix the flat strands. He briefly catches the way your eyes went up to the fluff of his hair and the way your hands flexed before he closes his eyes.
“Does this mean I can snoop around if it’s all your stuff?”
Naturally, you ignore him. He wasn’t expecting much of a response anyway.
Blindly trailing behind you, he feels himself weave around the room by your lead. The situation itself was already amusing, but the image that procured in his mind of you shuffling through luggage with your other arm outstretched towards him, tethered by the Evol Link, strikes him as oddly comical. The silence between the two of you is marked only by the zipping of open luggage and the rustling of clothes and boxes.
“I know your eyes are closed, but get ready to make a break for it. We grab the stuff and run.”
Sylus simply brushes the dust off his shoulder— dust he couldn’t see anyway with his eyes shut. He quips, “Taking your own stuff doesn’t count as stealing, by the way.”
“This is our hunter’s place. I feel nervous having you linger here for too long.”
A warmth, the familiar one that has been hounding him all day, fills a space in his chest. So you did care, even to some degree. You pause in the silence as you look for your phone, but his sharp senses picks up on something else: a muffled noise in the hallway.
“Someone’s about to walk in,” he purrs.
“Stop trying to scare me,” you shoot back.
He shrugs. He isn’t about to waste his efforts on persuading you considering how adamant you are. Frankly, he’d rather see how this plays out if you did get caught with him attached to the wrist. As you guide him across the room, he feels you freeze when the sound of laughter and a card swiping to open the door fills the hallway outside.
“Give me a moment,” a female voice calls out from the other side of the door, “I’ll grab my coat first and then we can go.”
Sylus’s eyes peel open to peer at your paling complexion, a hint of smug in his calm gaze. I told you so, he wants to say, but instead, he settles for a sardonic grin that speaks for itself.
Your lips curl unkindly, “You… Ugh, move!”
He’s suddenly thrust into a stuffy closet, a soft groan leaving him as his back collides against the wooden wall with a thud, and he slides down to fold his long legs on the floor. He’s acutely aware of your sweaty palms pressed upon his chest as you steady yourself on his lap, his other hand—the one bound to you—tangles in the mess of your fingers and the thin rope of the tether.
“Why are you rushing…?” He takes off his shades to properly glare at you. “Or are you using this opportunity to avenge yourself?”
You try to stand up, but to no avail. You spy the Evol Linkage that keeps you from moving. Your brows crinkle, “…Sylus, stand up.”
“Are you ordering me around?” He lifts a brow in question.
You raise your wrist in front of his face to explain what words could not, causing his own Evol-bound wrist to mirror the motion. His gaze falls onto the black-red ring, narrowing. The familiar throb of his headache returns; this bondage is a nuisance when it’s unwanted. With a weary sigh, he pinches the bridge of his nose. A fresh wave of indignation stir from inside him once again at the limited freedom the linkage caused. Holding you close to him, so close that he feels your breath through the cotton fabric of his shirt, he gathers you in his arms and maneuvers you in a way that brings the both of you to your feet.
Backing away immediately once you regain footing, you look at him in shock at his audacity, “You—?!”
“Stay right there,” his voice drops to a murmur. He hangs his Evol-bound arm over the garment rack, your own arm dangling underneath his. Using the hand on the rack, he lifts a finger to his lips with a quiet shush. “She’s coming.”
From his peripherals, he notices the worried look that sweeps across your face as you take in his huge, and quite noticeable, figure. In your panic, you attempt to push him back in hopes that he can shrink into the shadows. You hiss with urgency, “Move!”
His gaze casually slides to your hand before meeting yours. “I did nothing wrong. And if we meet,” his tone lifts teasingly, “We can say hello to each other.”
Your expression flattens, “And I won’t be able to clear my name even if I have a redemption arc.”
Lips tilting upwards, Sylus lets out a low, dry chuckle, feeling entertained despite himself. “So, you think we’re safe right now?” Another taunt; a bet.
His eyes drift to the Evol around his wrist, studying it absentmindedly. A small, flimsy closet is nothing but the most obvious place two unsuspecting people can hide in—but it was the first place you pushed him in. So, he’ll just have to learn to adapt in these types of circumstances he, as a foresighted strategist, would never let himself be in the first place; an experience he’s gotten quite accustomed to in the days he’s known you.
He listens to the soft footsteps coming from outside of the closet.
“Did I put it in the closet?” The same female voice asks to herself. Her steps come closer.
A smirk made its way on his face. Told you so again, kitten. Two points, keep up.
It’s like you heard his triumphant inner voice. You surge forward like a tiger, your claws quietly shoving itself over his smug mouth.
“…Or, in my suitcase…?”
Her footsteps grew distant. Sylus stays silent, his attention fixating on the heat of your hand firmly pressed against his lips; he could care less of the girl shuffling through a suitcase for her coat when you’re around making his body heat up. He takes note of how you haven’t pulled away even after a few heartbeats of silence to which he considers safe to uncover him, but he says nothing. Instead, he watches you, examining the tightness of your posture and the twitch between your brows. Fear pulses off of you and wraps around like a shadow blanketing your form, a sharp contrast to the calm facade he’s mastered, one that makes him appear like he has the world bending to his will.
It takes more than a few seconds for your body to relax, and you release his mouth from the cover of your palm. Unconsciously, you drift closer toward his steady physique, and with an unexpected brush of your skin on his arm, he softens just an inch.
“Anxious?” He asks quietly, though he already knows the answer. You only meet his gaze, but the look he sees in your eyes was enough to set off the instinct to protect.
“Then close your eyes.”
He wraps his untethered arm around your shoulder, pulling you gently into his chest. He feels you bury your face against him, your breath slow and warm through his cotton shirt. He could only hope that you were too preoccupied worrying about being discovered to notice the loud pounding of his heart. With a quiet exhale, he releases your shoulder and uses just a fraction of his strength to push against the sliding door. A few milliseconds later, the faint sound of wood creaking under his resistance fills the small space, but he remains unfazed.
“Huh? Why can’t I open the closet…?” The voice struggles.
You lean back, eyes widening when you realize what he’s done. Your fingers grip his tethered arm like steel talons, the pulse in them pounding against his skin. He’s suddenly glad your hand was too small to do much damage. Attempting to placate your rising panic, he soothes, “Pretend you’re a coat that doesn’t breathe or have a heartbeat. It should be easy.”
That earns him a sharp pinch to his side, and Sylus inhales at the sudden pain.
“We’ll be discovered with how much noise we’re making!” You whisper.
Leaning close, foreheads brushing ever so slightly, he bites back lowly, “Don’t move then.”
Outside, the girl tries again. She uses more force than before, but the door doesn’t budge much under his hold. You fidget a bit beside him, and the intensity of your worried stare burns into the side of his face. Despite the tension, he finds himself unexpectedly comforted by the sweet vanilla scent of your hair with how close you are.
“If we’re discovered,” he starts, toying with an idea in his head that might as well have been influenced by the aphrodisiac of a perfume you were wearing,“it might be better just to confess.”
It did not garner the proper reaction from you. In a flash, a train of emotions pass by your face until you push against his shoulder— as quietly as you can.
“Are you crazy?! Confess what?”
Surprise lit his eyes at the outburst, and he chuffs, “Your mental fortitude’s terrible.”
He pulls you close once again in an effort to provide a solid and stable sense of reassurance for you. His tethered arm reaches into his pockets, searching for the smooth surface of his phone. While keeping his eyes at the crack of the door, his fingers swipe and tap at a pattern with such familiarity, he has no trouble dialing the number without even so much as a glance to the screen.
Something buzzes outside, and he feels you stiffen.
Footsteps approach the buzzing noise. “How did her phone end up… Oh? So my coat was here.”
Sylus quickly glances at you, and catches the sparkle in your eye when they meet his. He pushes himself away from the door, leaning back against the cabinet wall as you sigh silently with relief. As you move away from him, a sudden chill on his body marks the absence of your warmth and the hole in his chest digs itself a little deeper.
The girl’s voice outside fades into the background when he takes in your questioning expression. As to provide you the answer you were looking for, he lifts an arm and flips the phone he’s been holding for you to see. The phone displays a caller screen with a circular image of your facial profile labeled with the name ‘Kitten’ beneath it. Your expression morphs into one of stunned disbelief.
“Don’t worry, it was an unknown number,” the words rumble smoothly past his throat. “I’m not in the mood to reveal our relationship right now.”
A complicated relationship he suspects he’ll mull over later today— when hasn’t he? You always leave him thinking about you, lingering in the back of his mind like a fly, even when you do nothing at all. Even though things are left unsaid. Even though the connection you share with him is anything but defined.
But his words were teasing, and it seems you understood them in that way too.
It was when the door closes that you cautiously step out of the closet, leaving him against the closet’s wall. Sylus looks down at his wrist, just now realizing the absence of the Evol Link and the growing distance between you. His wrist weighs with an emptiness he didn’t expected to feel.
Your eyes scan the room before announcing to him, “No one’s here…. Hurry up!”
Sylus follows at a distance, watching your gaze fall on his wrist, mirroring his realization. Briefly recounting what has occurred, he laughs softly, “Being too close to you is just asking for trouble.”
You purse your lips. “Says the person who caused all this.”
He shrugs, looking away to run a large hand over his disheveled hair and dust off his shoulders. In the silence, he’s oddly sensitive to the scrutiny of your gaze following his every movement. It feels almost vulnerable, as if you were a hawk observing every nook of him for a sign of weakness. It’s uncomfortable in the sense that he isn’t used to it, but he knows he should learn to welcome it when you’re around. He breaks the tension from his body by releasing a chuckle and responds, “Yes, yes. So get used to it already. Being tied to a bad man like me is beyond reasonable.”
“It’s a shame…” You sigh, touching your wrist. “We still don’t know how the Evol Linkage untethered itself.”
Sylus’s gaze returns to you, studying the way you rub your wrist with an expression that looks almost forlorn. His brow raises, and a spark of something ignites in him like a small flame conjuring in the eye of a blizzard.
“Did you have something else to say?”
“You didn’t want the linkage to be broken?”
Two sentences spoken at the same time, eyes fixating intently at the other. Not another thought runs past his mind lest he starts assuming you and your feelings toward him. Your gaze bore into his as a beat of silence passes, until you blink at his question.
“Says who?!” Your voice raises.
“Me.”
You look at him incredulously.
“This thing… takes longer to disconnect every time,” he reasons, tapping a finger to his head, deep in thought. He knows he’s dipping his toes across the said ‘unsaid’ line. “I guess you like me a lot more now.”
A scoff immediately escapes past your lips. “Okay, narcissist.”
That only causes the corner of his mouth to curl into a coy grin, “Sweetie, when people don’t want to accept the truth, they’re quick to deny things.”
Your eyes shift past him and you let out a sputtered cough to clear your throat, amusing him further.
“Or maybe it’s the other way around,” you retort. “You’re the one who’s starting to like me more.”
Looking down at his fingers, his heart teetering over the edge of a cliff, he checks them casually. “You’re not wrong.”
From the corner of his eye, he catches you snapping back to stare at him, shocked. With an air of nonchalance, he slides his hand into his pocket, retrieves his sunglasses, and uses two fingers to push it on the bridge of his nose before he turns around to head toward the door.
“Wait, you’re leaving just like that?”
He pauses, his breath almost shallow. His head turns to the side to look over his shoulder. “I see. You’re worried that I’ll get caught by the surveillance camera when I go out—” a small smirk then lifts his features “—It’s not because you want me to stay, right?”
He sees you walk up from behind his back with a flat expression, his hat in your hands. With his heart humming, he turns around to face you completely, the contours of your face dim under his shades. You stand on the tips of your toes as you secure the hat on his head, tufts of white peeking out over his forehead.
“Yeah,” your fingers gently brush away the peeking tufts of hair,“so you better leave quietly. Don’t let anyone see you or else you’ll ruin our symposium.”
The fleeting touch of your fingers tickle under his forehead. Despite your even tone, he hears the concern laced underneath, which does enough to ignite the fire in his soul.
“Does this mean that one day, even without the linkage, you’ll choose to stand by my side?” Another dip into the land both of you never really cross. His heart softly pounds in his ears.
“…When the time comes,” you say delicately, voice soft and recognizing the weight behind his words, “we’ll be dealing with things other than a simple linkage.”
Sylus inhales sharply, gaze lowering to the floor. His chest thuds, and his heart starts leaking away the tenderness that he’s been holding and threatens to spill out for you to witness.
Confirmation.
He just received your confirmation— and he doesn’t know how to fucking act.
He can deal with the consequences a relationship with you may have later on. He can find solutions to issues that may step forward given the forbidden nature of a partnership with you when he reaches that bridge. Until then, with your confirmation, he’ll wait for you. He’ll allow you in his life to walk by his side in this journey he walked alone for the longest time, and he’ll walk by your side on your own path if you’ll let him.
It takes himself less then a second to gather himself up, his mouth curling into a smile. As if the Evol Linkage is still present, he steps closer, holding out a hand to intertwine his fingers with yours. Leaning in, he grins and says, “And you’ll just have to accept everything coming your way. When two snakes are devouring each other, one will inevitably be crowned the victor.”
Matching his grin, you counter, “Is that why earlier you called me your Queen?”
Eyes flaring in surprise, he pauses momentarily. There you go again, being beautifully unpredictable. Eyes narrowing, he brings a finger up to flick your forehead, causing you to scowl and swat his hand away. Laughing, he leans up with his gaze lingering on you a second longer before he makes his way towards the door. “Text me when it’s over. Don’t forget to bring your things upstairs.”
“What?”
“Or I’ll get my men to do it for you.”
“Wait, but—”
Sylus shuts the door behind him, lightness in his step and fire burning in his heart. If this is the reward for rescheduling all business meetings to tomorrow, for enduring hours upon hours of being attached to your fidgeting presence, and for wrestling with his own thoughts and impatience all afternoon, then every bit of the hassle might have been worth it.
Tonight will be fun.