Imagine being a grade school teacher ft. Sylus. part 2
Imagine Sylus had always known loving you would eventually ruin him. Not because you were cruel, not because the relationship was bad, but because you were good in all the way he never was. Soft where he was sharp, warm where he was cold. Honest where he had spent his entire life surviving through half truths and violence.
and Imagine the longer he loved you, the more unbearable it became knowing he could never give you the kind of life you deserved. You wanted ordinary things. That was the tragedy of it. Not luxury, not power, not the dangerous glamour that followed men like him. You wanted mornings, wanted peace. You wanted to raise children somewhere quiet enough that they could sleep without armed guards outside the door.
Imagine Sylus remembered those conversation too vividly. You sprawled across his couch late at night while he worked, your head on his thigh while you talked sleepily about random things that crossed your mind. About little apartments with terrible wallpaper, about adopting stray cats, about children. You used to talk about children so gently. Not in a demanding way, you never asked him for promises. You simply loved the idea of loving someone that much.
"I think little kids are cute when they're annoying." You had murmured once, half asleep. Sylus looked down at you back then with something dangerously close to grief alreadt forming inside his chest. "Annoying?" He repeated quietly and you laugh softly as you said, "Like when they ask the same question fiftly times." "You'd lose patience." "I would not." "You absolutely would."
Imagine the way you sat up immediately to defend yourself while he watched you with the kind of expression men only wore when they were already doomed. Back then, he almost let himself imagine it too. You, a home, children running through hallways, domesticity. The kind of life that smelled like laundry detergent and dinner left warming on the stove.
Imagine then reality always returned, because Sylus's life was not built for permanence. It was built for survival. Blood followed him everywhere. Danger followed him anywhere. And eventually he realized that loving you selfishly enough to keep you would only destroy you slowly. So he let you go before the world could.
Imagine he still remember that final night with nauseating clarity. You were sitting across from him, silent for so long that the room itself felt heavy. Neither of you cried at first, that was what made it unbearable. The understanding between you had always been too deep for dramatic scenes.
"You don't have to decide this alone." You told him quietly and Sylus nearly broke right there. Because even then when he was actively breaking both your hearts, you were still trying to stand beside him. "You deserve more than this." He said eventually. "I didn't ask for more." "That's exactly why I have to." His voice had sounded calm but inside he was unraveling. And you stared at him for a long time after that before you finally whispered. "You already decided, didn't you."
Imagine the way he could not answer. Because he knew if he opened his mouth, he might've begged you to stay despite everything. And Sylus, he loved you too much to become that selfish. So he sat there in silence while tears slipped quietly down your face. Not angry tears, not hateful ones. Just heartbreak, raw and exhuasted. The kind that came from loving someone deeply enough to understand why they were hurting you.
Imagine you left before dawn and Sylus stood in that same room long after the door closed, staring at the space you used to occupy like maybe grief itself had taken shape there. Afterward, he continued existing the only way he knew how. Work, violence, control.
then Imagine, the twin happened. Sylus sometimes thought fate had a particularly cruel sense of humor. He found them during a raid gone wrong. Tiny things covered in dirt and fear. One of them clinging desperately to the other while trying to act brave, staring at him like wounded animals when he approached.
Imagine Sylus should have walked away after handing them over. Instead, he left that warehouse carrying both children in his arms, and he hated himself for keeping them at first. Not because of the boys, never because of them, but because every single thing about them reminded him of you. Of the future he destroyed with his own hands. Children, family, a home. The very thing he convinced himself he could never give anyone.
Imagine there were nights he genuinely thought about sending them away, finding a better guardians, safer people. Then one of the twins would crawl into his bed after a nightmare and clutch onto his shirt with tiny trembling hands. And he, Sylus was weak when it comes to being needed. Especially by children who looked at him like he hung the moon. So he kept them.
Imagine years passed strangely after that. The twins grew louder, messier, needier. They filled spaces inside his home that had remained empty for so long that Sylus forgot emptiness could even be replaced. And yet you remained everywhere too. In the quiet moments, passing thoughts, in every instance where he found himself wondering what you would say. The boys liked dinosaur, you would've found that adorable. One refused vegestables unless threatened dramatically, you would've laughed yourself sick watching it.
Imagine the twins would fall asleep against him on the couch and Sylus would sit there staring at them while an ache settled deep into his chest. Because it should have been you here. Not as a replacement, never that, but beside him. You should have been part of this life. And maybe that was the punishment for his decision. Not losing you completely but spending years imagining you in every corner of the life he chose without you.
Imagine he still keep tabs on you quietly. Security updates, general reports. Enough to know you were alive and safe, enough to know what you become. And Sylus remembered staring at that particular report for a long time. A teacher. It suited you so painfulyy well that he had to pour himself another drink afterwards. He thought of you surrounded by children. Patient, warm, smiling softly the way you used to smile at him during gentler days. And God... He missed you so much it physically exhausted him sometimes.
still Imagine, he never intended to see you again. Because that part of his life was supposed to remain untouched. One where it held the version of you he knew and when he still belonged beside you. The years he had spent with you had become something fragile inside him, and he feared that reaching for them again would only prove that they no longer existed. And because if he saw you again and discovered that those days had meant nothing, then even the memories would lose their warmth.
then Imagine the twins insisted he attend the parent teacher meeting personally. Usually he delegated those things. Executives, assistants, someone safer, someone normal. But the twins had spent an entire week bothering him relentlessly. "You never come." "Other parents do." "What if our teacher thinks you don't love us?" That one had made him freese. So eventually against his better judgement, Sylus went. And the moment he stepped into the classroom, the world stopped.
Imagine he saw you standing near your desk beneath warm fluorescent lighting, surrounded by colorful paper stars and children's drawings taped against the walls. And suddenly, Sylus couldn't hear anything except the violent pounding of his own heartbeat. Then you looked up and met his eyes. And for one horrible second, he felt every single year without you crash directly into his chest.
Imagine you looked the same. Older, yes. Softer around the edges, but still unmistakably you. Still beautiful in the devastatingly quiet way that ruined and save him. Sylus genuinely forgot how to speak. The twins were talking, something about getting lost in the hallway but he varely heard them. Because you were standing right there after years of only existing through distant reports and fading memories, alive, real, close enough to touch. The worst part? His body remembered you immediately. Not sexually, not superficially. It was something deeper. The instictive familiarity of home.
Imagine he remembered your voice before you even finished speaking, remembered how your smile looked when it was genuine versus polite, remembered exactly how your eyes softened when you looked at children. God, he was introble the second you smiled at him professionally and said, "Good afternoon, Mr. QIn." Mr. Qin, not Sylus. And the distance in it nearly split him open. Still, he forced himself to stay composed, professional, controlled. Because what else could he possibly be? Certainly not the man internally unravelling every time you laughed at something the twins said.
Imagine you adored the boys, it was so obvious that it hurt unexpectedly. You looked at the twin with so much fondness that Sylus had to glance away several times during the meeting. Because all he could think about was how naturally you fit into the scene. How easily you could have loved them and how easily they would have loved you back. And the small things, oh the small things. You remembered which twin struggled more in subjects, how you listened to their rediculous stories like they mattered. At one point, one of the twins interrupted your discussion entirely just to tell you about dinosaurs and how they would thrive in modern society. And you listened seriously, smiling, interested.
Imagine Sylus nearly lost composure right there because he could see it clearly. The life he denied both of you. The life he still wanted despite knowing better. Then came the moment that truly destroyed him. The meeting ended. And the twins ran ahead outside the classroom, loudly complaining about being hungry, and you walked beside him towards the doorway and for one fleeting moment it almost felt familiar again. Like the old days, like walking home together after long evenings. Then he heard himself asking, "How have you been?"
Imagine the way the question even surprised him. But the need to know had apparently lived inside him for years. And you looked startled, not uncomfortable, just caught off guard. Then you smiled softly. "I've been doing well." Sylus held his breath. "I'm happy." Happy. The word lodged somewhere beneath his ribs like a blade. Because he could tell that you mean it. There was no bitterness in your face, no lingering devastation, no sadness hidden behind politeness. You were genuinely happy.
Imagine the way Sylus suddenly realized he had spent years surviving your absence while you had actually learned how to live beyond it. And for one ugly, selfish moment, he almost wanted to ask how. How could you smile at him so gently when he still woke up some nights remembering the exact weight of your sleeping body against his chest? How could you stand there so peacefully when he had spend years carrying your ghost around everywhere? How could you move on from something that still lived inside him like an open wound?
"How about you?" Sylus froze. Because he didn't know how to answer that question honestly. Fine wasn't true. Happy was impossible. He had built an empire, raised two boys, survived things that should have destroyed him. Yet standing in front of you again made him feel emptier than he had in years. But before he could answer, the twins called loudly from down the hallway. "Dad!" "Hurry up!" "We're hungry!" The moment shattered instantly, reality returning all at once. And Sylus looked towards them briefly before turning back to you. And you were smiling at him so kindly that it physically hurt.
"Go on." You laughed softly, "They're waiting for you." Sylus opened his mouth, then close it. Because suddenly there were too many things trapped in his throat. I miss you. I never stopped loving you. I think leaving you ruined me. Do you ever think about me? Instead, he forced himself to say, "It was nice seeing you again." You smile softened even further. "Likewise, Mr. Qin." Mr. Qin. So polite, so distant. Like he had become someone formal in your life instead of someone who once knew every inch of your soul.
Imagine the twins grabbed his hands afterward, pulling him towards the hall while continuing their dramatic complaints about food and Sylus let them drag him away. But halfway down the hallway he looked back, just once. And there you were still standing by the classroom doorway watching them leave with that same gentle expression on your face. No anger, no regret. No sign that seeing him destroyed you the way seeing you destroyed him. And somehow, that hurt the most.
[βdark-night-hero] 2026Β°
(: base on the result of the poll, there shall be no part 3. So yeah, this is the last part. I shall leave everything to your imagination. If you see any typo, that's because of William and Albert James Moriarty. Naduduling na ko kakacheck ng typo sa totoo lang.
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