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As soon as you heard Lois close the door, you let out a heavy sigh of relief. Not for the first time since you met him, you were a little glad to have Sylus to help you—even if the situation was partly his fault.
You eyed the Evol linkage still bound to your wrist; its flame-like tendriles glowed brighter and licked at your hand, seemingly taunting you. No, you decided, with a spark of ire in your heart. This was entirely his fault.
That was, of course, because the other end of the cursed Evol linkage was still bound to his wrist.
You shoved open the closet door and stepped out, making a beeline for your cellphone. To his credit, Sylus let himself be pulled along, though not without a curious raise of his brows.
He watched you impassively as you stared at your phone screen in horror, your mind racing.
“It’s almost time,” you said. You thought of how your boss, Jenna, and her boss, and pretty much everyone at the Hunters Association had emphasized the importance of this landmark symposium; not only was it a large-scale collaboration between the Association and a leading research facility in the Arctic, several high-profile guest speakers had been invited from all over the world to discuss new developments in Protocore analysis. As it followed, a large majority of Association departments—including UNICORNS—were required to attend.
There were about ten minutes left until the official start time.
You bit your lip, hard. Everyone should be taking their seats right about now—if you hurried, you could make it in time. There was just one problem.
You turned back to Sylus, who met your worried face with an infuriatingly nonchalant expression.
“Well?” He said, with a tilt of his head.
“Well,” you ground out in frustration, flinging your Evol-bound wrist—and by association, Sylus’—into the air for emphasis. You frantically gestured between the two of you, tugging his arm with each movement. “What are we going to do about this? The symposium’s about to start.”
“Since you don’t have the luxury of falling asleep again, our only course is to adapt to the problem,” Sylus said. “Why don’t you make up an excuse?”
“It’s not as easy as that,” you replied in annoyance. “I can’t just skip out on this, as insignificant as it may seem to you.”
Sylus narrowed his eyes but didn’t retort. You felt a faint pang of guilt for implying he didn’t care, but time was running out and his cavalier attitude was less than helpful.
“I mean,” you said, trying for a more diplomatic angle. “Don’t you also have somewhere you need to be?”
Sylus let out a chuckle. “I’m afraid not, sweetie. Even if I did, it seems my evening is already spoken for.”
Dejected, you glanced out the window—darkness was beginning to settle over the barren landscape that surrounded the city. The deep gray hue of the overcast sky, a color that seemed neither light nor dark, made you feel restless, and you turned away.
You took a deep breath. “Okay,” you said, facing Sylus head-on. You prodded the linkage with your free hand and felt its rope-like tendrils resist your touch, still holding fast to your wrist. “It gets shorter when we push each other away, and it disappears when we least expect…”
The linkage was strong but not tight. It hovered a couple inches above the skin of your wrist, allowing you to awkwardly swivel your hand around.
You racked your brain for answers—if it dissipated whenever you fell asleep unguarded in Sylus’ presence, it must be a reflection of your feelings toward him at any given time.
An idea sparked in your mind, and you grabbed Sylus’ Evol-linked hand with your own, lacing your fingers with his. He let out a grunt of surprise.
Unwanted memories flashed before your eyes; your first few days in the N109 Zone, when Sylus had repeatedly grabbed your hand and forced you to resonate with him.
You swallowed a wave of unease, instead focusing on the warm sensation emanating from his palm. As your discomfort abated, the linkage began to withdraw into itself, its glowing tendrils curling back.
You let out a laugh of triumph. The linkage started to dim, wisps of energy that had encircled your hands now disappearing into thin air. After a few moments, it was completely gone.
Sylus squeezed your hand, gently, his large palm almost enveloping your own. “Problem solved,” he said, as his lips curled into a smile.
“We did it.” You grinned in spite of yourself, relieved to be free. All that was left was for you to gather your things and race to the auditorium before the symposium officially started and your coworkers took notice of your absence.
Sylus glanced at you, his crimson eyes glimmering with something fond.
“At least you’re in better spirits now. Enjoy your symposium, sweetie.” With that, he turned to leave the room, but you subconsciously grasped his hand before he could pull away entirely.
He turned back, his brow raised. “Is there something else?”
You parted your dry lips, only now realizing what you’d done. It just felt a little strange to bid farewell so suddenly, but your traitorous body had acted on its own before you knew it. And what were you supposed to say, anyway? That it’d been nice to run into each other? It wasn’t a complete lie—not that you would admit it to him.
“Watch out for the security cameras on the way back,” you told him, in lieu of a proper farewell. “Don’t get caught.”
Sylus smirked, leaning down to peer at your averted eyes. “Are you worried about me?”
You huffed, attempting to maintain at least a semblance of self-regard in the face of his overwhelming presence. As he drew closer, his cologne wafted into the warm air between your bodies and tickled your nose; a rich, smoky scent infused with spiced undertones.
“As if. I’m only worried about the trouble you’ll cause for me.” You raised your chin in a weak show of defiance, meeting his smug expression with narrowed eyes.
“Noted. See you around, kitten,” Sylus said, in a tone that implied he’d seen right through you. He stepped away from you and made for the door, his hand gently extricating itself from yours.
You watched as he turned his back to you—you steeled yourself to feel his hand slip from your grasp, anticipating how your fingers would catch on air.
Except they didn’t. You were abruptly pulled along with him, stumbling forward and colliding with the left side of his torso.
Sylus caught you by the waist just before you toppled over, twisting his body so he could avoid elbowing you in the head.
He furrowed his brows in bemusement, looking down at you. “Sweetie,” he said. “I’m sure it must be difficult, but you need to let go now.”
You sputtered, heat rising to your cheeks. “I did let go of you!” you protested, mortified beyond belief and desperate for some sort of explanation. You had intentionally held onto his hand the first time, but—
“Oh, god.” Flustered, you looked down at your wrist. The Evol linkage was gone, yet—you tried to raise your hand into the air, only to pull Sylus’ along with it. Crap. It wasn’t gone at all—it had only turned invisible, but it was still as strong as ever.
Your heart sank, and you looked up at Sylus, who seemed to be suppressing a laugh.
“This isn’t funny!” you said, exasperated. You pushed at his shoulder, and he let go of your waist.
You flexed your fingers and used your other, free hand to feel around for the linkage on your wrist—now an invisible, thick coil of pulsating energy. Using all your strength, you tried to pry it off with sheer force, but to no avail.
With his arm swinging this way and that, Sylus looked like a particularly disgruntled marionette. After a few more pitiful attempts on your part, he seized your bound hand with his.
“Enough,” he said. “This is pointless, and you’re only going to tire yourself out. Although, the face you’re making is quite entertaining.”
“Nothing about this is entertaining, Sylus.” You felt like you were on the verge of losing your mind. You seethed silently, glaring at the invisible linkage. The universe thought it was being pretty funny, huh? Well, you were about to be hilarious.
You looked up at Sylus, your expression grim. “You’ll have to come with me to the symposium.”
This was the only way, since you couldn’t part ways with him nor miss out on the symposium. As for the linkage, you figured you could just sit tight and avoid shaking hands with people. While the whole plan was flimsy and would have catastrophic repercussions if it fell apart, you were unable to think of another solution.
Sylus didn’t look surprised. “Better hurry then, sweetie. Clock is ticking,” he said, pointedly looking at the contents of your luggage strewn haphazardly around the room. Your photo ID symposium badge, purse, keys—you’d left everything all over the place when you’d unpacked, not expecting to get caught up in this linkage ordeal.
You dove for your suitcase, using your left hand to rummage through your things while Sylus half-crouched next to you, his large frame crammed into the corner between your bed and the closet.
You snatched up your keys, purse, and jacket—but where on earth was your ID badge? Without it, neither of you would be able to enter the auditorium. You continued to rifle through your clothes and toiletries, growing more frantic by the second.
A flash of white plastic amidst the chaos of fabrics caught your eye. You dug your hand deeper, your fingers meeting the soft edge of a mesh packing cube.
You cursed—your ID badge had somehow wound up with your underwear.
You whipped your head around at Sylus. “Close your eyes again, okay?” you told him, since there was no way you were going to rummage through your bras and panties with him watching.
Sylus obediently shut his eyes, a smirk gracing his face. “Oh? Is there something you don’t want me to see?”
“That’s right,” you grunted, shoving your hand into your suitcase and pulling out the packing cube. You unzipped it one-handedly with some difficulty and retrieved your ID badge, flinging the lanyard over your head.
“Okay. You can open your eyes now,” you said to Sylus as you buried the packing cube under layers of clothing.
You stood up, pulling him with you. Standing face to face, you pursed your lips, anxiety rising in your throat as you thought of what lay ahead. “My coworkers know you as Skye, so how do we explain your reason for being here?”
“That’s easy,” Sylus said, simply. “I’m a fruit vendor, remember? This is a hotel.”
“So you supply fruits to southern resorts and hotels in the Arctic…” you said, trailing off when you realized how ridiculous it sounded.
“What’s the matter? It’s not impossible,” Sylus said. He picked an invisible speck of lint off his sleeve.
But seeing your look of despair, his face softened. “Of course, there’s an infinitely more simple explanation,” he hinted, his voice dipping low. His gaze lingered on your joined hands.
Against all odds, a ray of hope shone in your heart. “What are you thinking?” you asked him, with apprehension in your tone. His ideas were always rather unorthodox.
Instead of replying, Sylus intertwined your fingers with his, pressing his warm palm against your own.
“Isn’t it obvious, sweetie? Why else would someone come all the way here, just to pay someone else a visit?”
All of a sudden, the dots connected in your head to form a solution. A clear and easy and most unfortunate solution. Mentally, you snapped your fingers—only mentally, of course, because they were still being held hostage by Sylus’ large and oddly comforting hand.
“No,” you said. There was no way you were going to pretend to be the object of his affection—well, Skye’s affection, but it was the same foreboding man in the end, the one who was watching you with a smug curve on his lips.
You had to admit it: the only plausible explanation that would account for his presence at the hotel and the hand-holding—the only way to conceivably present the linkage in public—was that you two were dating. Not just dating, but apparently at the “I’ll come all the way to a symposium in the Arctic just to see you” stage.
Sylus inclined his head. “Think about it. Time’s running out.”
You clenched your teeth in one last act of resistance, fast-tracking through all eight stages of grief—in that moment, you were certain you discovered new ones—before finally opening your mouth. “Fine,” was all you said. “But please try not to talk too much.”
Sylus smiled. “Doubting my skills in deception, sweetie?”
“No,” you said, honestly. You had faith in his abilities, but you were far less trusting of his propensity to mess with you, and it would only take one wrong word to set an entire auditorium of Hunters against him. Against you.
On your way to the door, you balked as an abrupt thought popped into your head. Ridiculous as it seemed, you were suddenly worried about bringing the leader of Onychinus to the Association-run event.
Sylus took notice, searching your face. “Something wrong?”
“No, I just…” you hesitated to share your worries with him—for some reason, you were afraid he would think you didn’t trust him. Not that you did, of course. Just enough to bring him to this symposium, apparently.
“Won’t you be cold?” you decided to ask him, gesturing to his thin sweater. The banquet hall was only a few floors down but it was way below freezing outside, being the Arctic and all. Your room was nice and toasty but you couldn’t say the same for the hotel’s public areas, which is why you were bringing your jacket along—not that you would be able to put it on properly, incapacitated as your arm was.
You also wanted to draw as little attention as possible to Sylus, and it occurred to you that his outfit was not helping: in his loungewear, he was dressed far too casually.
Sylus glanced down at himself. “I’ll be fine. If it makes you feel better, I can wear this.” He bent down to your open suitcase and pulled out a scarf before you could protest.
“Hey!” Helpless, you watched as he draped the scarf over himself. It was a dark gray color and made of wool—and it was also your favorite scarf, you noted in annoyance. You realized, however, that not only could it keep him warm, the folds of fabric draped across his shoulders added an air of what could only be called "unbothered elegance". Of course, it did nothing to help him avoid standing out, but you were beginning to understand that trying to make Sylus appear inconspicuous was a nigh impossible task.
Another bonus was that the scarf covered his neck and stopped just under his chin; if needed, he could use it to cover his face. You chewed your lip—you were sure that no one close to you would recognize him, since they knew him as Skye, but what about everyone else?
You heaved a sigh, shaking your head as you turned the doorknob. Your chest was thrumming with anxiety but you pushed your nerves down, stepping out into the hallway as the door closed behind you with a soft click. The hallway was wide enough for you and Sylus to walk side by side as you hurried to the elevators. Once inside, you stared at your troubled reflection in the elevator’s mirror, dread settling into your stomach.
Keeping in occasional contact with the leader of Onychinus was one thing, and so was resonating Evols with him, but bringing him right to his supposed “enemies”—who were, incidentally, your “friends”—was an entirely different matter. At this point, you weren’t sure who you were most worried for.
A carousel of distorted visions churned through your mind: Sylus in the N109 Zone, your UNICORNS team, and even Xavier—who had been exempt from attending but would no doubt get caught up in the huge mess that was bound to happen if Sylus got recognized. So much was at stake.
You took a deep breath, trying to soothe yourself to no avail. More and more worries flooded your mind. What if—
Your spiraling thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a reassuring squeeze of your hand. Startled, you looked up at Sylus, who was facing straight ahead. His angular side profile, which ordinarily gave off an unwelcoming aura, appeared inexplicably soft in the elevator’s dull lighting.
“Breathe,” He murmured, brushing his thumb over your knuckles. “We’re almost there.”
The elevator doors opened, revealing a spacious lobby. You let Sylus lead you out of the elevator as the strength returned to your legs, bit by bit. You headed straight for the entrance to the hotel’s Auditorium Hall, your heeled shoes clicking with each measured step across the polished tiles.
Just before reaching for the handle of the enormous double doors, you checked your phone. Perfect—there was a minute left. No one could say you were late if you flounced in right now and took a seat with your coworkers.
You met Sylus’ eyes with your own look of determination, then swung open the door.
The auditorium was already crammed with hundreds of attendees, its overhead lights dim. On the stage, a few researchers in formal attire were standing near the podium in front of a wide holographic display. It seemed they were just about to start their presentation.
You scanned the audience, spotting two familiar faces at the other side of the auditorium, across the sea of people—Tara and Lois. You weaved through the rows of seats, pulling Sylus along by the hand as you hurriedly made your way to your group. As luck would have it, there was an empty seat next to Tara.
“Tara,” you whispered as you crept up to her. She turned her head in surprise, relief dawning on her features when she saw you.
“I was wondering where you were,” she whispered back. She suddenly noticed Sylus who was standing behind you, and towering over everyone seated nearby—earning him more than a few glares for blocking their view of the stage.
“Who—wait. Is that Skye?” she gasped, looking between you and Sylus with wide eyes. You felt an instant wave of dread wash over you. Before you could stop her, Tara turned to tap Lois on the shoulder, almost bouncing in her seat with excitement.
“Skye?” Lois said in disbelief, as soon as she turned her head and saw Sylus.
“The very same,” Sylus said, with a good-natured smile.
Both Lois and Tara noticed your and Sylus’ joined hands at the same time and simultaneously let out a squeal of delight. A nearby audience member cleared their throat, annoyed by the ruckus you were all making.
You fought the urge to sink down on your knees and bury your face in your hands out of embrassment. A few more of your coworkers seated down the aisle turned in your direction as well, watching you with curiousity.
“I knew there was something going on between you two at the resort!” Tara said, her voice rising in excitement. That earned her a loud shhhh from the same audience member, and she smiled bashfully. “Sorry! Ahem—anyways,” she continued in a hushed tone, “You guys—”
Thankfully, you were saved by the crackling sound of the podium’s mic. A woman in a pristine white coat began the symposium’s opening speech. “I would like to take this opportunity to welcome you to…”
“There’s one seat here, and one in the row just behind me,” Tara whispered quickly. You almost moved to sit down next to her before you realized the issue at hand—indeed, it was a hand issue.
You gave her an awkward smile. “It’s okay. We’ll sit somewhere else,” you whispered, searching around for two empty seats. So now you gave the impression that you couldn’t bear to be parted from your boyfriend and his loving grip, even for a three hour symposium. Wonderful. You hoped your coworkers would assume you were simply in the passionate throes of a new relationship.
Sylus jerked his head in the opposite direction. “Over there,” he said, leading you to another row. The people seated nearby barely glanced at you and Sylus as you took your seats, all of them focused on the stage.
Once settled into your seat, you let out a sigh of relief, the tension dissipating from your shoulders. You’d made it without a hitch so far, and showing up late only worked in your favour. Now you just had to sit through the symposium and everything would work out. The linkage might even disappear on its own while you both were here.
Tentatively, you let go of Sylus’ hand and tried to pull your wrist away, only to pull his wrist along with yours.
Feeling glum, you took hold of his hand again and turned to face the stage, where the holographic display had expanded in size. Two more researchers had stepped out and were now animatedly gesturing to the array of data lit up on the display.
Sylus leaned over to you. “Are you really so upset at having to hold my hand, sweetie?” he said in a low tone.
You shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “You tell me. Seems like it’s more trouble than it’s worth. I…” You trailed off as you turned towards him, only to see him sitting with his eyes closed.
He folded his arms and leaned back, tugging your hand into the crook of his elbow. You were pulled towards him, forced to stretch your torso over the low armrest between your seats.
“Are you going to sleep?” you asked him in a whisper, but you didn’t get an answer. Keeping your arm extended was starting to feel uncomfortable so you tried to free your hand, only for him to grasp it even more firmly.
“Hey,” you said to him, a little miffed. “At least let me get comfortable too.”
“Settle down,” he murmured with his eyes still closed. He intertwined your fingers with his and brought your hand down into his lap as he shifted closer to you. Without further ado, he leaned his head on your shoulder, leaving his elbow on the armrest.
Startled at his movements, your hand twitched— and inadvertently brushed the inseam of his pants, setting off a jolt of shock throughout your body. As if electrocuted, you instantly curled your fingers. It took all your effort to focus on the stage in front of you. Luckily, Sylus didn’t seem to notice.
You tilted your head to make room for him—and tried very hard not to bask in the warm weight of his body, made all the more enticing in the chilly auditorium. You attempted to ignore how his chest rose and fell with each deep breath in an almost hypnotic rhythm, but you found yourself matching the tempo of your breathing to his.
You inhaled steadily, trying to settle your racing heart. All it did was give you a lungful of his heady cologne, which burned straight through to your head. You closed your eyes, clearing your mind of wandering thoughts.
“…Protocore analysis.” The researcher’s voice droned into your ears, amplified by the mic. “We have developed a new classification system for energy output levels…”
It was no use. Surrounded by Sylus’ scent and an overwhelming sense of comfort, you felt fatigue overtake you. Just before you succumbed to the lure of sleep, a frivolous revelation flashed through the haze of your mind. So soothing… he’s almost like a weighted blanket.
+++
You were awoken by the deafening sound of applause. You instinctively put your hands together before you could even open your eyes, giving a few feeble claps along with the rest of the audience’s enthusiastic uproar.
The lights in the auditorium were back at full brightness, making you squint. You blearily rubbed your eyes. As your vision focused, you saw that the symposium’s presentations had finished, and the holographic display now showed a concluding message. The people on the stage were still speaking but it was clear that the main event was over. Most of the audience had resumed their idle chatter, with a few people in adjacent rows already standing up to leave.
Stifling a yawn, you tried to look around, only to feel a stiff ache in your neck when you lifted your head. You paused in confusion. That wasn’t the real issue. What—or who, exactly, were you resting on?
Hardly daring to move, you turned your head to meet Sylus’ pleased expression—rather, he was smirking down at you, since your head was nestled against his broad, unbelievably comfortable shoulder.
“Look who’s finally awake,” he said quietly, his breath stirring your hair. His nose was almost close enough to graze the crown of your head.
“You…” Your voice was a little rough from sleep. “You’re not asleep?”
Sylus carefully brushed the messy strands of hair out of your face, his fingertips caressing your cheek. “Mmm,” he said. “I woke up just as you fell asleep, so I listened to the presentations. The discussion on novel methods of Protocore extraction was quite interesting.”
You blinked against his touch, regaining your senses bit by bit. Distantly—and with no small amount of embarassment—you registered the fact that you had spent three hours sleeping on Sylus’ shoulder without a care in the world. To top it off, you’d missed the presentations, but that blunder somehow seemed to pale in comparison.
You looked down, faltering in surprise. Sylus had draped your jacket over you while you slept.
His Evol-bound hand was still clasped around yours, resting on the armrest.
Without dwelling on it, you shook your free hand out from under your jacket, leaning away from him as you smoothed down your mussed hair and adjusted your clothes. You pulled out your phone with a calm and controlled motion, very deliberately avoiding his gaze.
“So,” Sylus prompted, breaking the silence. “Did you rest well, kitten? I can’t say I’m as comfortable as a real pillow, but I did my best.”
It was the best nap you’d had in months, but you weren’t about to tell him that, so you ignored his provocation. Instead, you took the time to look around for your coworkers, spotting them several rows away; it appeared as though they were also about to stand up and leave.
You sighed in relief. The hard part was over, and this farce had reached its end.
“Let’s go say goodbye to my coworkers, and then we can get out of here,” you said to Sylus. Just as you were about to get up from your seat, he tugged you closer to him.
“Wh—” you opened your mouth only to be struck dumb when he brought his hand up to your face again, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear.
“Your hair is still disheveled,” he said, softly. His dark red eyes roamed over you, and he made a noise of contentment. “But this will do.”
You both made your way over to where your coworkers were sitting. Tara and Lois were chatting while Alex sat in the row behind them, leaning over Lois’ seat.
“Hey you two,” Tara said cheerfully as you drew near. “That was a pretty cool symposium, huh? What’d you think of that last presentation? Captain Jenna told us to pay extra close attention since our team would be the first to start using those new Resonators.”
“Right,” you said with a nervous laugh, as you scrambled for an answer that wouldn’t betray the fact you’d spent the entire symposium blissfully passed out on the shoulder of the Association’s Enemy No.1. “Those, um, Resonators—”
Luckily, Alex cut you off. “You UNICORNS,” he said, shaking his head in mock annoyance. “You guys always get to try out the latest gadgets. What about the rest of us? I’ve been patching up the same old broken Resonator for the past year.”
Lois rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, please,” she said. “As if you weren’t given a higher security clearance just last week.”
“That doesn’t help me on the field! You know the—”
“Anyway,” Lois interrupted him, angling her body to block his view. “Did you see those ‘epsilon’ Protocores? They kind of freaked me out, to be honest.”
Tara widened her eyes, emphatically. “Oh God, I know. I hope we never have to see one.”
You nodded along with Tara, but as soon as you sensed the lull in the conversation, you seized the opportunity to make a smooth exit.
“It was great to see you guys,” you said, painfully aware of Sylus standing right behind you. “I’m feeling a little tired so I think I’ll get going now, and Skye has to leave early tomorrow, so…”
“Right,” Tara said, tossing you a badly concealed wink. She turned to Sylus. “Are you also staying here? In this hotel, I mean.”
“Yes,” Sylus said. “I was fortunate enough to book a room on short notice.” As he said this, his eyes flitted back to you, holding your gaze for a few moments too long.
You mentally applauded Sylus’ quick acting and the way he slid into his role. You cleared your throat, acting shy on purpose, as if you were truly embarassed by your boyfriend’s affectionate demeanor.
Collecting yourself, you faced your coworkers with a gracious smile, but your feet were eager to start walking away. “So, we’ll be off now. I’ll see you guys tomorrow—”
“Oh, wait!” Tara gestured to the doors of the auditorium. “What about our dinner? Aren’t you coming?”
Your smile froze. The dinner that Tara had reserved for you, her, Lois, Alex, and a group of other Association pals had completely slipped your mind. Your heart rate quickened as you looked between Sylus and Tara, frantic as you tried to scrape together an excuse. “Oh, uh—”
“You have to come,” Lois chimed in. “We’re not taking no for an answer.”
“What about Sy—Skye?” you asked, a tinge of hope in your voice. “The reservation’s for ten, right?”
Tara waved a hand at your concern. “Don’t worry about it. I’m sure we can make room.”
“If anything, Alex can sit somewhere else,” Lois joked.
“Hey,” Alex said. “But yeah—we should be fine.”
“Oh,” you said, weakly. “Thanks, then.” You caught Sylus’ eye and gave him a meaningful look: Play along just a little more. He replied with a slow blink and an upturned twitch of his mouth, and your frown deepened.
The majority of the audience was starting to file out of the auditorium. Alex stood up, dusting off his pants, as the fellow Association employees who were seated nearby began to rise from their seats too. You subconsciously stepped closer to Sylus, shielding him from view.
“The Pandora, right?” you asked, remembering how Tara had made the reservation at the hotel’s largest restaurant.
“Yep,” Tara said, leading you out of the auditorium. She pulled out her phone. “I’ll remind everyone that we’re meeting there.”
Your group was standing to the side of the auditorium’s entrance, so as not to block the flow of people heading out the doors. Sylus leaned against the wall, looking bored, while you stood in front of him like a fence, praying you were tall enough to obscure him from a distance. With your joined hands, the position was awkward, so you tried twisting your body to the side, further shielding him from view.
Two people, who you vaguely recognized from your floor at the Association, brushed past your group as they exited the auditorium. One of them did a double take at Sylus before whispering something in his friend’s ear, and then they both turned their heads to peer in your direction, brows furrowed like they were trying to remember something.
You stood up straight and shifted closer to Sylus, shuffling from side to side as you attempted to take their attention off him.
“Bend down,” you said, tugging on his sleeve as you turned around.
Sylus obliged; he leaned down, his nose mere inches from yours. This close, you could count each of his eyelashes, which quivered as his eyes scanned over your face. He breathed out, and the flyaway hairs on the top of your head fluttered in his wake.
You stood on your tiptoes, bringing your face as close to his as you dared, and praying that all those two passersby would see was a couple engaged in PDA—and have the discretion to look away.
Feeling restless under his stare, your eyes flitted around, landing on his thin lips, which were drawn taut. You quickly averted your eyes, instead staring at a spot on the wall right above his head.
You stayed like this for several seconds, but it felt like an eternity. Your panic must have been evident in your expression, for Sylus let out a quiet tsk and raised his brows ever so slightly: Why are you so worried? Don’t be.
You didn’t dare to turn around, but you also felt your balance start to give way. Sylus’ left hand trailed up to your lower back, holding you in the space in front of him, neither pressing you forward nor allowing you to lean backwards.
Lois was bumped into your direction by the crowd. You and Sylus broke apart, his hand falling back to his side as you manuevered yourself to stand beside Lois, who was luckily taller than you. This new arrangement effectively blocked Sylus from the view of the two passersby—unable to get a closer look, they shrugged and went on their way.
“So,” Lois said, eyes shining. “You already told us how you met, but when exactly did you guys get together?”
Sylus swooped in before you could answer. “It wasn’t long after we ran into each other at the resort,” he said. “After we re-connected, I decided to make my intentions clear.”
Tara put her phone away and joined in from the side.
“You two must have had feelings for each other for a while, then,” she said with admiration. She gave you a knowing glance, and playfully bumped your shoulder. “Honestly, if you hadn’t come here, I wouldn’t have been able to tell. This one’s a pro at hiding her emotions.”
You could recognize the hurt in your friend’s expression, even though it passed in the blink of an eye; she was wondering, despite herself, why you hadn’t told her about your new relationship. You swallowed the lump of guilt in your throat—it seemed like you were always keeping secrets from those who mattered most to you.
Sylus chuckled. “You have no idea how long I wanted to tell her,” he said. His red, glinting eyes were focused entirely on you. You felt a ghost of a sensation on your skin as his gaze flickered to your lips, cheeks, and then found your eyes again.
You broke away before you could give a name to the distant fluttering within your chest. “Well,” you coughed out. “Here we are now.”
Tara’s phone rang and she picked it up, pressing her hand against her other ear to hear the line over the bustle of the nearby crowd. The lobby’s acoustics seemed to amplify the noise of people. “Yeah? Okay—we’ll be there soon.”
“Let’s go, guys.” She hung up and pocketed her phone, then pointed to the other side of the hotel. “It’s just over there.”
You followed her lead across the hotel lobby, weaving past throngs of people and eventually coming to a stop outside of a bright and chic restaurant front, where a few other people were milling about. Seeing your group, they waved Tara over.
After pleasantries were exchanged and Sylus was tactfully introduced by you as your boyfriend to the rest of the party—a few intel operations team members you were on friendly terms with—your group entered the restaurant and were led to a private room by the waiter.
You uttered a silent expression of gratitude that there was one large, oblong table for all of you, saving you from any problems with seating arrangements—although you still stumbled when you squeezed your way to a seat near the corner, with Sylus’ gentle hand on your back preventing you from falling. The waiter had kindly brought out an extra chair for him, placing it next to yours.
“I’ll order for everyone,” said Marco, settling into a seat beside Tara. He picked up the menu and started rattling off items to the waiter.
Even crammed into his seat beside you and surrounded by nine other people, Sylus stuck out like a sore and imposing thumb. Being your “boyfriend” didn’t spare him from sidelong glances and uneasy whispers. You suddenly felt offended on his behalf, and snuck a look at him: seemingly unbothered, he was plucking at the hem of the tablecloth with his free hand, keeping his eyes averted from everyone else’s.
You understood their wariness, though; his intimidating aura made it hard to look at him directly, much less feel comfortable in his presence. God knows it had taken you long enough.
As the waiter left, everyone more or less resumed their conversations, and the volume of noise rose to a pleasant level—but you remained silent, which meant that Sylus didn’t speak either.
Bored, and feeling your Evol-bound hand about to fall asleep, you tapped your fingers against his, making him look up at you. He inclined his head at you, questioning. “Yes, sweetie?”
“Aww,” Lois gushed out, on your other side. Realizing her intrusion, she shrunk back sheepishly. “Sorry. I just—we don’t really get a lot of time for dating and all, right? It’s nice to know it’s still doable. You know.”
She sighed, wistful. “I can’t remember the last time I went on a date."
On the other side of the table, Alex abruptly stopped what he was saying and watched her out of the corner of his eye.
You patted her hand, and she smiled. “I know what you mean,” you said. “Even now, Skye and I sometimes go days without seeing each other.” It was true—you and Sylus were both busy, and outside of the occasional run-ins you were positive were not mere coincidences, you had little contact.
Which was for the best, evidently. You stared at your joined hands, pretending you could see the invisible linkage.
“And I’ve made my peace with it,” Sylus said to you, brushing your knuckles with his thumb. “I like seeing you flourish, even if from a distance.”
“Aww,” Lois said, again.
“I-I see.” At a loss for words, you held his gaze for an entire three seconds longer than you usually dared, before breaking away entirely. The afterimage of his blood-red irises, warm like embers, left searing traces in your mind.
Flushed, you turned to Lois. “How was the workshop?” you asked. Before the symposium, the others had taken part in a data input training session while you had been stuck in Sylus’ suite, napping away your Employee Attendance Record.
“It was great. Oh, and the closet door in our room is broken,” Lois said. “We’ll have to get someone to help later.”
“Of course.” You nodded. “We can ask the front desk on the way back.” Beside you, Sylus hid a wry smile behind the glass of ice water he lifted to his lips. You resisted the urge to nudge his shin with your foot.
At last, the food came—steaming hot platters of meat and vegetables, heaping bowls filled with rice and pasta, and several other colorful side dishes that Marco clearly knew like the back of his hand. You were quite hungry, as anyone would be after sleeping for hours in between personating a high-stakes fake relationship. A plate of steak filets made its way over to you, and you slid one onto your plate, eager to sate your ravenous hunger.
Only when you glanced down at the utensils beside your plate did it occur to you that there was yet another hurdle in your disorderly day: your right hand was, as luck would have it, trapped underneath Sylus’ and tied up neatly by the Evol linkage. In this case, it meant you couldn’t use your fork and knife to neatly cut into your steak.
You stared dejectedly at the filet of meat in front of you: so close, yet so far. Realistically, you could stab the filet with your knife and bring it to your mouth, or pick it up with your other bare hand, but you doubted you had the courage to disregard your ingrained table manners in such a way.
Lamenting your loss, you looked around for another, more feasible food item, when Sylus dropped a sizeable heap of chicken and rice onto your plate.
He drew back, put the tongs down, and gestured to your food. “Have some of this. It may be more convenient.”
You blinked, taken aback. “Oh… thanks,” you said. Under his watch, you picked up your fork and tried a piece, reveling in the taste. You breathed out, and your stomach’s growling intensified; you’d been given a bite, and grown hungrier still.
You noticed he was still looking at you. Unsure what to make of it, and not wanting to feel indebted to him, you piled his plate with whatever you could reach from the dishes beside you, clumsily spooning food onto his plate. You found yourself refilling his glass of water with the nearby jug, too, if only to fill the silence between you.
“Thanks,” he murmured, taking his plate from you. He seemed a little stunned.
“So Skye,” Sonya said, from two seats away. “Tell us about yourself. What do you do for work?”
“I’m just a fruit vendor,” Sylus answered, smoothly. “My company supplies a few resorts down in the south, and we do some other agricultural business on the side.”
“You look kind of familiar though,” Sonya said. Teasing, she narrowed her eyes at him from across the dishes that covered the table. “I feel like I might’ve seen you somewhere before.”
You froze, your throat closing up; of course an Association intel analyst would recognize someone like Sylus.
“He’s done some modeling,” you blurted out. “For, um—Armani. It was a while back. Mainly for bus station ads, and stuff.”
“Oh.” Sonya nodded her head slowly, still pondering. “I guess that explains it.” Someone called her name and she turned around, your conversation all but forgotten.
You allowed yourself to release the breath you were holding.
“Bus station ads for Armani?” Sylus asked, his voice low. His lips twitched, like he was restraining a grin.
You snorted, spearing a piece of vegetable onto your fork. You remembered the countless luxury suits that hung in his closets—plural. “Pardon my mistake,” you said, faux bitter. “I should have gone with a more expensive brand.”
The dinner passed without further incident, until Marco started ordering drinks for the table.
“I’m really alright,” you tried, waving him off when he asked what you wanted. A few others at the table had already been ordering drinks on their own.
“No, no,” he said, beckoning the waiter over. “We’re going to toast, so everyone needs a drink in their hand. It’s all on the Association—don’t worry about it.”
“Two Gin fizzes then,” Sylus said. At your uncertain glance, he smiled. “You’ll like it, trust me.”
“…Sure.” You huffed, and sat back.
“So what made you finally ask her out, Skye?” Lois asked, a flush already creeping up her neck. She put down her cocktail and beamed at you, swaying ever so slightly.
“There’s no couples in our department, just a bunch of singletons like me. We’re all starved for romantic stories—indulge us, please?” She asked, hiccuping. Alex stared at her with an unreadable expression, from where he thought no one could see.
With a nervous laugh, you elbowed Sylus. “I’d also like to hear this,” you said, assuming that was what an easygoing girlfriend with a pleasant personality would say in this sort of situation.
Sylus hummed, reclining in his seat. “I just chose the right moment. She’s always been very special to me; more than she knows.” He flexed his fingers that were intertwined with yours, for dramatic effect.
“She’s… had a tremendous effect on my life. A kindred spirit is hard to come by.” For the final blow, he pressed the back of your hand to his lips, peering out at you through his eyelashes.
Your heart jumped and you almost jerked your hand away, but you calmed yourself in time. Your skin prickled where his lips had lingered.
“Wow,” Lois sighed, dreamily. She picked up her cocktail and slumped back in her seat, turning her head to converse with the person next to her.
Your head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, and you hadn’t even tried that gin fizz yet.
“Stop doing that,” you hissed at him, leaning closer in pretense of adjusting his scarf—your scarf.
Sylus cocked a brow. “Doing what, sweetie?”
“Being so—” Charming. Suave. Romantic. And saying those things as if he really meant them. “Being so glib,” you settled on whispering to him. “You’re laying it on too thick; they’ll see right through us.”
Sylus looked at the rest of the dinner party, all of whom were merrily engaged in their own conversations and had hardly spared you and Sylus a glance once they saw he wasn’t dangerous. No one had even cast a suspicious look, much less voiced a doubt.
You stared back at him, defiant. The palm of your Evol-bound hand started to sweat—you were certain he could feel it too.
Sylus leaned even closer to you. “And if I meant every word?” He whispered into your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps down your nape.
Before you could react, the waiter came to your side of the table and set down two pale yellow cocktails in front of you and Sylus.
Sylus drew back slowly, resting his long, slender fingers against the glass. He was no longer looking at you.
You picked up your glass just as Marco stood up, drink in hand, and grinned at everyone.
“Thanks for coming out tonight, guys. I know we’re all in different departments, which makes planning get-togethers hard, so I appreciate it. Everyone’s got missions and deadlines and whatnot, so—” He raised his glass and leaned over the table. “—here’s to us! Good luck out there. Cheers!”
“Cheers!” The group raised their glasses in unison.
You braced against the table and stretched your arm out to clink your glass against whoever’s was nearby, letting out a laugh when you couldn’t reach Tara’s.
You plopped back into your seat, about to take a sip from your drink, when your eyes landed on Sylus, who was holding his glass out to you—Alex and Sonya, who were beside him, had very cautiously clinked their glasses against his with a perfunctory “Cheers”.
All of a sudden, you found yourself knocking his glass with yours with a little more force than necessary, causing him to look at you in amusement.
“Cheers,” you told him, the syllable carrying more weight than it had any right to. You brought the glass to your lips and took a long, drawn out swig, your eyes never leaving his. The sting of citrus rushed down your throat, along with the refreshing buzz of the gin.
After a beat, he reciprocated: “Cheers.” He took a sip, only to frown a moment later. He swirled the drink in his hand with a displeased expression.
“What’s wrong?” you said, feeling oddly defensive of the cocktail, for some reason. You put your glass down.
“It wasn’t shaken enough,” he said. “But it’s not unpleasant.”
You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “Actually,” you countered, “I think it’s great. Delicious, in fact.” To prove your point, you took another gulp and licked your lips, drawing his dark red eyes to your mouth.
You drank again. Your tongue lapped against the rim of the glass and then licked the corner of your lips before you knew what you were doing, distantly savoring how his eyes followed each movement. His grip on your hand tightened, almost imperceptibly.
Sylus exhaled, long and slow, before his lips curved into a smile. “I think you’re right,” he said, watching as your throat moved each time you swallowed. “Seems like it has its merits, after all.”
Before you could foolishly knock back the rest of your drink, Lois slumped against your shoulder, letting out a tired sigh.
“This was nice,” she mumbled, with her eyes closed. “It’s rare we all get to eat out like this.”
You put your drink down instantly, and shifted your torso to prop her up. “You okay?” You’d seen her tipsy before, but not in this melancholic haze.
“Mm,” Lois said, softly. All of a sudden, her eyes snapped open. “We need to get someone to fix that door.” She tried to stand up, only to collapse back into her chair.
“That can wait,” you said. She was definitely drunk. You glanced around, and saw that Marco had left the room to pay the bill. Everyone was finishing up their food and nursing the last of their drinks—except for Alex, who was casting worried glances at Lois, like he wanted to help.
You beckoned him and Tara over. “I’m going to take her back to the room,” you told them, rising from your seat with some difficulty. You got Lois to stand up and lean on your left side, while Sylus cleared a path for you to carry her out. You somehow managed to toss her arm over your shoulders, supporting her by the waist with one hand. You were thankful no one had pointed out how ridiculous it was that you still hadn’t let go of Sylus.
“Do you guys need help?” Tara asked, worried.
You shook your head. “We’ll be alright. Tell Marco thanks.” Hesitant, you met her anxious eyes. “Skye wanted us to keep everything on the down-low because of his family; I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before.”
“Oh—that’s alright.” Despite saying so, Tara brightened. “I knew you had a reason. Anyway, let me know if she needs anything.”
Alex nodded, his hands restlessly twitching at his sides, as if he wanted to reach out to Lois. “Keep us updated,” he said instead.
“I’ll be fine, guys,” Lois said, with another hiccup. She made a face. “Maybe not.”
It was closer to midnight now, and the hotel lobby was all but devoid of life. You helped Lois into the elevator, then took it to your floor. Shuffling down the carpeted hallway, you finally made it to the door of your room.
“The key card is in my pocket,” you whispered to Sylus. You gestured to your jacket, draped over his arm.
He fished out the key card and swiped it against the lock; the door opened with a quiet click.
The room was dark—only moonlight filtering in through the uncovered window illuminated the floor as you stepped around your suitcase and made your way to Lois’ bed, where you gently helped set her down.
“Sorry,” she said quietly, sounding on the verge of tears. She sank further into the mattress, and then promptly flopped over onto her side, curling into herself. She started to snore.
Sylus pulled a wastebasket over, placing it near the head of the bed.
You draped Lois' blanket over her and closed the blinds halfway, leaving the room in near darkness. Unable to see your surroundings without your phone’s flashlight but unwilling to rouse Lois by switching it on, you let Sylus guide you to the door, following the steady pull of his hand.
You stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind you. It was empty, and the carpet muffled your footsteps as you and Sylus walked over to stand in front of the door to the laundry chute, away from most of the suites.
You pressed your lips together, worried. You needed to stay in the room and look after Lois tonight, but—you swung your and Sylus’ joined hands, finding yourself strangely numb to the inconvenience of the Evol linkage; perhaps you were just too tired to make a fuss.
“I need to stay with Lois. What should we do?” you whispered to him. You would have a hard time explaining Sylus’ sleeping over in your room, especially when you had an inebriated friend who was relying on your help.
“We don’t need to do anything,” he said. To your surprise, he unlatched his fingers from yours and lifted his palm into the air, leaving your hand to dangle uselessly.
“It’s gone?” You gaped at him, turning your wrist around to check for the linkage. Finding nothing, you rubbed at your knuckles, wincing at the stiffness of your joints. You shook out your wrist, relishing the sensation.
Relief bloomed in your chest, and the tension in your shoulders loosened. “Finally,” you breathed out. “Wait a second. When did it disappear?”
Sylus tapped his chin, thoughtful. “It could have disappeared at any time. Probably during the symposium—or at dinner.”
Your face fell, instantly, before you felt heat rush to your cheeks. “Don’t tell me you knew exactly when it disappeared!” You rounded on him, lowering your voice to an accusatory whisper.
“Relax, kitten. I would have told you if I felt it,” he said, leaving you no choice but to believe him.
Sullen, you crossed your arms and looked away. “Fine,” you said, too tired to argue. At least the linkage was gone. Stifling a yawn, you tilted your head in the direction of your room. “I should get going. I'll ask room service for some more water, for Lois."
“You’re a good friend,” Sylus said, his tone gentle. He handed you your jacket.
“No,” you exhaled, thinking of Tara, and Xavier, and Zayne, and the N109 Zone, and the Aether Core fragment within you. “I’m not.”
Sylus said nothing. He reached up to unwind your scarf from around his neck, and then draped it over you. “Thanks for letting me borrow it,” he murmured, still holding one end of the scarf. He tucked it into the loop he’d made, his fingers brushing against your collar.
You took a deep breath as if it was the most natural thing to do, letting the lingering scent of his familiar cologne fill your nostrils.
His hand hovered downwards, unhurried, before stopping at the photo ID badge that hung from your lanyard. He used two fingers to pinch the edge of the badge, tilting it towards the light from the nearest sconce.
You waited, motionless. He looked at it for a few moments, his eyes unreadable. Then he removed his hand, letting the badge swing gently against your stomach.
“So, Miss Hunter,” he said quietly. “This is where we part ways.” He stood unmoving, waiting for you to speak.
“Thank you, for—” you paused, unsure how to express your gratitude. “For going along with everything today.” He’d spent the entire evening pretending to be your boyfriend, just for your sake. Ignoring a sense of guilt for dragging him into your charade, you pinned today’s events on the linkage, mentally reasoning that you’d repay him the same favor if he ever needed it.
Sylus smirked, and leaned down to flick your forehead. You’d grown used to it by now, and didn’t even blink, which made him draw back with a slightly surprised expression—although, you could have just imagined it.
“Anytime, kitten. Sleep tight,” he said. The dim light from the sconce cast warm golden hues over the contours of his face, leaving dappled shadows in your vision as he turned away from you.
You watched his retreating back. Your eyes unwittingly followed the movement of his long legs as he strode away, further and further, until he rounded the corner and disappeared from sight.