⏾ XAVIER .𖥔݁ ˖︎ ִ ༄˖°.

ᯓ✈︎︎CALEB ⋆°•☁︎︎.ೃ࿔

𓅇 SYLUS ࿐ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

⋆❆˚ ZAYNE ｡⊹❅˙.

he grins triumphantly. “it is, isn't it? you wouldn't be the first to try to trick me. this is the n109 zone! look, kid, i don’t know what you’re going through, but best i can offer you is water. i can get you a cup, or you can sit here and watch while i call secur—” 

slow footsteps approach from behind, followed by a familiar deep voice. “something the matter?”

your shoulders sag with relief. your savior has arrived.

immediately, the bartender straightens. “no, sir. i just wanted to see her ID, but i think she gave me a fake. i was just about to ask her to leave.”

sylus glances between you, meeting your pout with a near imperceptible smirk. “is someone’s word good enough for you?”

“depends on whose it is. we run a tight ship around here, sir! we want to make you proud.” 

sylus nods, already bored with the encounter. “i’ll vouch for her, then. my partner can come and go as she pleases.”

the bartender’s hand slips, tipping over a glass of ice. it shatters as it hits the ground, and sylus raises an eyebrow.

“i’ll pay for that,” the man says with a nervous laugh. “matter of fact, i’ll buy a whole new set. those were getting old, anyway.” 

shrugging, sylus slides a bill across the counter. “you can take that up with aislinn. i’m only here to make sure you get her her drink. she hardly needs an ID when she has her own special menu.” his voice softens as he tilts his head to the side. “one 'sweet evil trap,' please.” 

“c-coming right up!” 

rafayel:

raf: hey raf: heyyy. it’s starting soon. where are youuuu

with a frustrated growl, you drop your phone to your side. “can you please just let me in? i’m going to be late!”

“sorry, miss, but with the heavy themes present in this exhibition, we can't let anyone in without ID. it’s nothing personal—just doing my job.”

of course he is. it’s not like he’s standing out here blocking your path for fun. it’s not his fault. it’s not his fault. 

taking a deep breath, you redirect your anger. curse thomas for not telling you beforehand! you’ve spent ten minutes trying to strongarm this attendant into letting you into rafayel’s new exhibition, and he still won’t budge.

you bite your lip as you look at the clock, watching your time run out by the second. 

rafayel’s been talking about this all week. if you don’t show up…

well, you’ll feel bad, first of all. but more importantly, you’ll never hear the end of it. 

in sheer desperation, you pick your phone back up and jab the video call button. 

“don’t tell me you're not coming,” he starts with a sigh. “i’ve been looking forward to seeing my cutie all day, and now i can’t even have that? you’re cruel.”

“you can have it if you help me out,” you reply. “i’m outside, but they won’t let me in without identification. and i left mine at your studio, because i was completely left in the dark about needing it. through no fault of your own, i’m sure.” 

“well, duh. we’ll have to straighten thomas out for this, won’t we?” his bright eyes narrow on the screen. “now turn me around, will you?” 

half puzzled, half exasperated, you turn your phone around to face the attendant.

“hey…what’s his name badge say? it’s too tiny.”

“um…eric,” you supply. 

“hey, eric! yeah, down here, buddy. thanks for helping out today, but tell me one thing: why is the artist’s partner being blocked from entering his exhibit?”

eric pales as recognition dawns on his face. “w-we’ve been asking for everyone’s ID, sir. it’s a requirement given the nature of the exhibi—”

“you have a list, don't you? one name is on it at every event. unconditional entry.” 

you’re not even sure if there is a list. you’ve never heard of it before, and eric’s hands are empty. still, he doesn’t seem to care as he finally steps aside to let you in.

“uh…thank you.” you give him an awkward pat on the back and wince when he flinches. “sorry about that.”

below, rafayel’s huff reminds you you’re running late. “hurry up, will you? i don’t know if i have the strength to entertain people anymore. i’m losing energy by the second,” he whines. “if i don’t see you before the show, i might faint on the first piece.”

zayne:

“you don’t have to come all the way here—i’m sure i can figure something else out.”

“you’re sick, are you not?”

“yes.”

“you need medicine, do you not?”

you cough weakly, your throat tightening from the effort. “…yes.”

“i’ll be there soon,” zayne declares. over the phone, you can hear his engine starting.

“still, i’m sorry! i didn’t mean to steal the one break you have today.”

“your wellbeing is always my top priority. this request proves you’re looking after yourself. how is that something to apologize for?”

you sniffle miserably. “i’m not doing a very good job of it. if i was, i wouldn’t have forgotten my license.”

after being sidelined by a bad cold all week, you finally made the trek to the pharmacy this morning. but in your feverish haze, you left your driver's license at home. and apparently, in this day and age, you need to show ID to buy cold medicine.

after you hang up, you retreat from the checkout line, ambling awkwardly around the store to waste time. when zayne texts to tell you he’s arrived 10 minutes later, you’ve circled back toward the front again.

as the electronic doors slide open, his pristine lab coat flutters in time with his brisk steps. people gawk at him in a mix of curiosity and respect, and you can't tell if the urge to swoon is from admiration or your rising fever. 

he spots you immediately, eyes narrowing at your trembling hands and the small pill box between them. “i’m not sure why you didn’t ask me to buy it for you in the first place,” he says, steering you back toward the checkout line. “you’re in no state to be out like this.”

the cashier who turned you down earlier has a blush on his cheeks, and you try not to judge his ogling. for a surgeon to visit a drugstore, let alone in uniform, it must feel like a ceo dropping in on his employees. 

the cashier looks guilty even asking for ID, but zayne presents it without complaint. the exchange is much smoother—and much less embarrassing—than your earlier attempt, which left you wanting to melt into the floor. 

“come on,” he says as he guides you toward the exit. “i’ll drive you home and make you something to eat. this medication should be taken with food.”

“you don’t have to! i can do those things myself, now that i have this. i’m sure i’ll be better in no time.”

he gives you a flat look. “firstly, you’re ill. secondly, it may be because you’re ill that you seem to have forgotten: the reason you called me in the first place was because you forgot your driver’s license.”

your cheeks heat up, and it’s not from the fever. “oh.”

“yes.”

you bite your lip anxiously. “what about my car?”

“after i take you home, i’ll see if anyone at the hospital is available for a favor. i’ll drive your car back, and they can drive mine.”

you can’t help but cringe at the thought of him entrusting his car to someone else. “sorry.”

smiling softly, he pulls your jacket tighter around you. “again, there’s nothing to apologize for. if anything, i’m happy that i was the one you called.”

caleb:

“okay, sir, you're good to go—woah there, missy!”

right as the theme park attendant waves caleb through, he clips the rope back in place to block your path. as your eyes widen in confusion, the park’s biggest rollercoaster looms behind you. “is something wrong? we have two tickets, right?” 

the attendant shakes his head and points to a worn-down measuring stick with a sign on top: must be this tall to ride. “sorry, kid. maybe when you’re older.” 

bristling, you glare at the rope separating you and caleb. “are you serious? i’m almost the same age as him.”

“you got proof?”

you scoff inwardly, and a bit outwardly, too. “of course i do. it’s right he—”

you dig through your bag with confidence but freeze when your hand comes up empty. on the other side of the rope, caleb gives you a look that needs no interpretation: i told you so.

all morning, he’d nagged you to clean up your things on the coffee table before you forgot something important, but you were too engrossed in your phone to listen. somewhere deep down, you knew he was right. he usually was. you just didn’t expect your disobedience to come back to bite you so soon. 

“i…left my wallet at home,” you admit, suddenly sheepish. “but is there any way you could—”

“you know what? it’s okay if we don’t ride this one. i’ve never been good with heights anyway,” caleb lies effortlessly. “c’mon, pipsqueak. let’s find something more your style.”

──────

poorly muffled snickers chase you as you spin around in the giant teacup. 

“alright, i get it. it’s not funny,” you grumble.

“oh, sorry. could you hear me? i’ll try to be quieter.” 

“you—oh, forget it! it’s my fault. i can’t even be mad at you.” you finish just as a teacup full of screeching toddlers passes you by. they make your headache worse. 

caleb hums thoughtfully. “you can be. just a little. i may have chosen that rollercoaster on purpose.”

rage shoots through you like the puck on a high striker. “you what?” 

“i knew they’d ask you for ID since you’re negative feet tall, and i saw your wallet sitting on the table before we left. consider this a life lesson. i think ‘always listen to caleb’ has a nice ring to it.”

“that’ll be hard,” you say sweetly, simmering at his satisfied grin. “because once i get out of this teacup, caleb won’t be able to speak.”

xavier:

“remember that restaurant we wanted to try? i’m here right now, but…i can’t get in.”

xavier’s defeated tone makes your brows furrow. “what do you mean, can’t get in? are they closed or something?”

“not exactly. apparently, they don’t let anyone under twenty-one inside.”

“okay, but…you’re over twenty-one.” 

“that’s what i said. but they don’t believe me.” you can hear his pout over the phone. “i left my hunter badge, so i don’t have any proof. can you bring yours? or are you busy?”

you are busy, technically—if lounging around waiting for him to come home counts. but if he can’t come to you, you guess you’ll go to him. “just stay put. i’ll be there in a few.”

──────

the street lights glow a little brighter as you walk up to xavier at the entrance. he steps back so you can squeeze in front of him, and you greet the employee with a smile. 

“hi! so sorry about that. we’re together, but this one forgot his ID. i hope this works for you instead?” you pass the woman your hunter badge, hoping she’ll take pity and let you both in.

she raises an eyebrow as she inspects it. “i’m supposed to believe you? you both look the same age.”

your heart lurches in your chest. “but the—”

“i guess i should thank you for keeping our city safe, but this doesn’t tell me your age. just your credentials.” she waves the badge in the air and hands it back to you. “no verification, no entry. manager’s rules.”

slowly, you look up at xavier, bewildered expressions matching one another. “i thought looking young was supposed to be a good thing?” you whisper. 

his eyes widen as he shakes his head. “i thought so, too.”

“listen,” the woman continues. “i can tell you’re good kids, and i don’t want you going hungry. you might not be able to get in here, but there’s a place across the street that might suit you better.” she jabs her thumb forward, and you both whip your heads around to see where she’s trying to send you.

when you spot it, xavier’s mouth falls open while you exclaim in outrage.