Chapter Text
There was nothing but the heat, intense and consuming. You couldn't see anything; everything was covered by a heavy, dark blanket or at least that's how you felt, as if the night sky were falling on your shoulders. The blanket was too heavy to let you see, but thin enough to let you hear and all you could hear were screams, “Mc! Mc! Mc!”
You woke up. Your face was sore with the shape of your fist gravely marked on it. Immediately, the electronic music at an excessive volume shook your brain and dazed you for a few seconds.
“Did you just fall asleep while standing?” You heard the smirk before you saw it. The flickering red lights illuminated his face, casting shadows first on his right side and later on the left one. His smile was unmistakable. “We can't have that. Kittens get grumpy when they are sleep deprived.” He sounded amused, but his eyes, following your every move, talked about concern.
“Good thing I'm not a kitten,” you said, serving another cocktail. Your hands found the bottles on their own while your ears listened to another customer's order over the music.
Your boss merely looked at you, his face laying on his right hand as his index finger tapped his temple. He was feeling guiltier than he would ever care to admit. You were mad at him. He knew. It was fairly obvious in the tone of your voice, in the reproach of your eyes, in the slight frown that appeared and disappeared in seconds.
“We're closing early today,” he said as he got up, signaling something to his subordinates. He wasted no time invading your space, preparing his own drink and finishing it in one shot. “Let's go.” He offered you his hand, smooth eyes and arrogant smile. He was handsome, unfairly handsome, infuriatingly gorgeous, extremely beautiful, all the terrible adverbs always accompanied by positive adjectives.
You put a dishcloth on his hand and walked away from him, not without bumping into his shoulder on your way out. Sylus looked at the rag on his hand; his smile never faltered, but he started shaking his head almost unconsciously before following you.
You went straight to your car, relief and anger filling your insides in equal measure: relief because he'd arrived, and that meant he wasn't cold and dead, sitting on his own pool of blood; anger because he hadn't arrived earlier, even though he told you he would. You tried to start the car in vain, one, two, three times, but nothing happened until Sylus climbed on the co-pilot seat. “We could go on my motorcycle too, kitten.”
“Don't call me that!” you said, your hands gripping tightly the steering wheel. “It didn't bother you before.”
“Well now it does,” you huffed before starting the car, breathing deeply as you moved through the streets of the N109 zone. Everything was empty, drained of life or joy, every single thing was colored with shades of gray. “You know that nobody's going to fine you, right Mc?”
“If you have a problem you can walk, mon coeur.” Your anger had turned into tiredness, and your reply came out without malice. Sylus could afford to breathe a little upon hearing the affectionate nickname, but it was too soon to relax. “My only problem now is a very angry sunbeam who threatens to blind me.” You ignored him and remained silent, avoiding his eyes even in red lights, looking anywhere but at him. You felt his gaze and could see out of the corner of your eye that typical little smirk.
Sylus saw relief washing over your whole body the moment you entered the base, as if you couldn't bear to be another second in his presence. You parked quickly and precisely, leaving the car without waiting for him (again). He knew you would be mad, but this was more than he was expecting. The silence you refused to break. Your eyes purposefully avoiding his. The quiet but insistent hunch that you were not really happy to see him. He couldn't placate the feeling in his chest, a dull, bothersome ache.
Maybe it’s because he was expecting your usual hospitality. You have a rather charming tradition: every single time since he rescued you, when he comes back from a trip or a mission, you throw yourself into his arms as soon as you see him arrive. It took him by surprise the first times, the raw sentiment you put in those embraces. But now it was quite the opposite; it was something he could expect after a difficult task. However, today you had thrown him a dishcloth.
Threads of red and black energy surrounded you like arms. Stopping your movements, they turned you around as if you were dancing. “I'm sorry, truly sorry that I couldn't arrive in time for your birthday.” He got closer and closer until his arms replaced the ones from his evol. He cupped your face, his thumb started caressing your lips. You shifted your head at once. “Why?” You already knew the answer. Hence, the question seemed more like a plea.
“I was helping a friend.” He took your chin and lifted it, but he couldn’t really force your eyes to meet his.
“You don't have friends.”
“I made one.” His answers were as rushed as yours and it added a comical shade to the whole exchange. It was always the same thing with him, you were always the idiot with the painted face.
“You won’t look at me again? Is that your punishment?” he said. He was trying to use a soft, teasing voice, but it seemed impossible even for him.
You met his eyes. There was guilt, but no regret. You didn't want to cry. How humiliating would that be? To cry an unrequited love to said love. Even worse when he knew. “Don't cry,” he murmured, as if reading your thoughts. You looked away again and tried to brush his hand away. He not only stopped you but took your face with both hands.
His fingers started caressing your face with the utmost softness his hands could bare. If you didn't know who his special new ‘friend’ was, you would have thought he was genuinely pained to see you suffer. You removed his hands from your face slowly, as if you were removing them from your very soul. “Weren’t you the one who said comfort is for the weak?” You rushed your steps because you needed to be alone as soon as possible, otherwise you’d become a living proof of his stupid phrase. Those were your thoughts when you opened the door.
A strident sound, like a giant balloon bursting, along with many little pieces of shining paper, took away your sadness by force, replacing it with surprise. “Happy,” Luke started. “Second,” Kieran continued. “Birthday party!” Luke concluded, cheering loudly.
Kieran handed you a giant bouquet of red roses. “From Boss-man.” It was heavy, if Kieran had a hard time holding it you were no better. You quickly passed it to Sylus without exchanging a single word. He took it with no effort. “From Boss.” Luke gave you a huge crow plush. It was a bigger version of the plushie you'd won a few weeks ago in the arcade. “It's adorable,” you said, trying to suppress your delight.
You felt Sylus move behind you. He tried to take the plushie, his smile widened when he saw your reluctance to let it go. “Calm down, sweetie. I won't hold him hostage for long.” You let it go against your will. He was holding a little velvet box in front of you. It looked old and worn. “Nothing too expensive, as you requested.”
When he opened it you lost your breath, at least for a moment, you could have sworn your heart did a somersault. It was a gold ring shaped like two intertwined crooked branches, with tiny pieces of garnet inside them. It was simple, but it had a surreal glow.
“Do you like it?” He couldn’t read your face at all. He could try to interpret the unshed tears peeking from your eyes, or the glow in them that could either mean you were moved or plain sad. He didn’t want to acknowledge the inner turmoil that kept growing when he thought you were seriously mad at him. Your eyes were glued to the ring and you'd stopped frowning but aside from that you could pass for a statue.
“I do. Thank you, Boss.” You finally smiled when you saw his outraged face, and, as much as he found bothersome the term you had chosen to use, he smiled back. It was not a crushing hug, but it was enough for the moment. He put the ring on your index finger and held your hand before you could stop him, admiring how it looked on you.
His touch was burning you, but he seemed happy.
Later, when you were laughing with the twins, accusing them for cheating in Uno and throwing the most creative threats he'd ever heard, he finally felt the ache slowly disappearing. When you huffed an exasperated sigh and lay down your head on his chest as if on reflex, checking your deck with a slight pout, he felt truly at peace.
He'd been so absorbed in you that he completely missed the passage of time until Luke smashed his last card on the table, causing a spat between you and Kieran. “Of course it’s your fault! That's it, I'm done with you two.”
“I'm taking my crow away from you, pair of cheaters.” The plushie was ridiculously heavy, but fluffy enough to be squished between your arms. Although your “second party” happened, along with the roses, the plushie, and finally the ring, you still remembered your “first party” and the lack of someone in it.
You were careful to make a mental note, a very important note, not to go into Sylus' room.
Once in your room, you put the plushie on the bed and looked at the angry gaze for a couple minutes before sinking all your body in the crow's belly, muffling your own protests. You weren't used to sleeping in your bed, as ridiculous as it sounded.
As if you didn’t have enough torments, memories of the past started playing in your mind. The growing heat, the suffocating atmosphere and everything consumed by the flames. Sylus had saved you and, very much like Luke and Kieran, you'd followed him. You were not a kid; you could have left him as he’d ordered you, but you had nothing left to lose and he was dazzling. When you remember the flames, you imagine his eyes instead. When everything gets darker, you imagine his shape appearing to save you. He saves you, every time.
Devotion felt like the only option, even when you knew it only led to hell.
At first, this dependency made you feel weak, pathetic in a way you could explain with utmost detail. You had been powerless against tragedy, too weak to save the people you loved the most. Then, Sylus arrived and made everything look easy, as if his were the scriptures of destiny. It was easy to be overshadowed by him, and it was also quite comfortable to hide in said shadow.
The first time you climbed into his bed, he looked at you with annoyance but said nothing, after all, his bed was big enough for you to have a little barbecue while he made one too. The second day he looked even more annoyed, but again, he didn't say anything. You were just very happy to be able to sleep more than a few hours; for some reason the only way you could avoid the nightmares was if Sylus was there.
On the third night you found his door closed. You didn't feel hurt, he was being cautious. If nothing it had been a miracle that he let you sleep with him for two nights. “Asshole,” you had murmured, already dreading the nightmares. “Who may be this 'asshole' you are talking about?” He was behind you, of course he was behind you.
You turned around slowly, innocent eyes blinking a few times. “Hi. I was just passing by to see if you needed something.”
“I don’t need anything, go to your own room.” He looked disheveled, dark circles under his eyes and a perfect posture in the process of crumbling. You were willing to beg for a place beside him, everything but revive the worst day of your life. As you were preparing to beg, the eyes of Sylus shifted for worse, you recoiled with fear and, unable to say more, you turned around.
A mist of black and red stopped you. It traveled from your chest to your wrist and gave you a little twist until you were facing him again. “Do you need something?” You weren’t expecting that but his voice was softer than before and it moved strings in your core. You nodded, relief and gratitude in the form of a smile spread from ear to ear when he opened the door and invited you in.
Since that day you had slept at his side. At first, the barrier was clear and you were cautious to sleep on the edge of the bed, but the more time passed, the blurred that line appeared until one time you accidentally kicked him off the bed. He'd been very angry at the moment. You, on the other hand, couldn't contain the laughter. He got his revenge many times afterward, when he would turn around so fast his arm smashed against your face, waking you up with a groan of pain. Sometimes, you would steal the blankets on purpose, and other ones his snoring was so loud you had to hit him with a pillow.
Sometimes, most rare occasions, he would hold you tightly through the whole night. At times you could only see his hands, but other times the embrace was face to face and you had the chance to see his sleeping face, so peaceful and calm, bathed in the moonlight. Those nights felt like a reward.
Someone called at your door with soft knocks, dubitative. However, there was not a single trace of doubt when he pushed the door open. “What are you doing here?”
“This is my room,” you replied with your eyes closed. Even without looking at him you knew his eyes were filled with annoyance, at least that much you could deduce from his voice.
“How incredible of you, dearest. It only took you three years to learn it.” You heard his voice closer, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “Don't make fun of slow learners.” Immediately after saying that you lost all of the air inside your lungs over the weight of a giant collapsing over you. “Sy-!” You writhed like a bug being crushed. “St-ohp, get uup you jerk!” You were sure that Sylus wasn't entirely laying down and yet you were immobilized. “I haven't slept on this bed before. I must admit is more comfortable than mine.” He kept moving, as if he were testing a new mattress.
“Fine, fine! Your bed is better!” You finally breathed again when he moved, resting on his side, watching you with amused eyes. You lay on your side too, your bed was much smaller than his, and there wasn't much space in between. “It's curious, when you're not in the bed but I know that you're here at the base, sleep comes easy.”
You felt those words like a confession, and just like someone offering their soul, you hoped for a response that would ease the pain of being vulnerable. You had waited for a long time. “Sometimes I know you're gone because my eyes refuse to close, mi rayo de luna.”
“You don't have to worry about me, you know I'll be fine.” He hugged you, eager arms bringing you closer. He seemed anxious, as if he needed to somehow merge with you.
Many nights later, you remembered that moment like a fever dream, something that you had imagined, a made up fantasy your brain had done to comfort you. There was no way Sylus would treat you like that just to break your heart.