I Write Sometimes

Tags: Sylus x non!mc, angst, some comfort, not a happy ending

Summary: How you got involved with Sylus Qin was a strange turn of events. It should have never happened, but it did.

The two of you were never really supposed to circle each other like you did.

Many unlikely occurrences built up until an unexplainable infatuation grew inside yourself. Even stranger were those feelings knowing the information that he could never like you, and you harbored little trust in him. Yet, there were those random moments where the two of you accidentally ended up alone together with conversations that flowed way too naturally as you bounced off each other easily. Both of your gazes falling on one another in crowded spaces, even if it would last only a second. Despite all preconceived notions, you fell hard for him.

You knew it could never happen, but then why did you feel the tension?

It all started when you were the one to put together the pieces that Skye– Miss Hunter's ‘friend’ who she brought to company parties sometimes– was actually Sylus, the leader of Onychinus. You really didn’t do much research or hunting into figuring it out too; one day it just clicked. As you stared at him badly doing karaoke, he started to suddenly look familiar. Tara had made a comment when he first started showing up to group events, but he casually brushed it off. Something about having a forgettable face. Forgettable face your ass. That fact bothered you for days.

Did he look like a celebrity?

Maybe you’ve seen him at the super market before….

Or possibly he was on the news at some point…?

Every time you looked at him it was like deja vu.

You were at work when it hit you.

Your team was working on a case and Onychinus was a suspect. Naturally, you were assigned as head researcher of the project. There was little photo evidence online of Sylus being an actual person, but there were some to be found– Pieces and parts of an appearance– but enough for your mind to start slotting details together.

You still remember the day it happened. You remember you couldn’t believe it at first, so you didn’t. You began to feel like you were going insane because no one was seeing what you were seeing even though it was literally so obvious. Next you knew, the digital paper trail left by this “Skye” began to grow larger and larger the farther you digged.

All of his appearances seem unconnected and impossible to piece together, and yet, it was all the same guy. You began to connect aliases together through simple acts alone. The guy had hobbies, and they were trackable. Not incredibly easy to trace or match, but there were definitely patterns in his actions.

You began to realize how he got away with it: It was like everyone saw someone different when they looked at him, however all you could see was the exact same face.

Your immediate reaction was to create a case and report this to your boss, but who would believe you. This guy was a class-act deceiver, unbelievably powerful, and had access to unlimited resources. Not to mention how he’s infiltrating your job and no one expects a thing because he's just Skye, ‘the fruit vendor.’

Worst of all, he kept showing up throughout your partial mental-breakdown. Company outings, random days in the office, missions where he was obviously trying to hide from everyone else to get Miss Hunter's attention, he was always there and you had to try and act like you weren’t shamelessly stalking him.

Your living room was no longer being used for its intended purpose, instead it looked like a conspiracy theorist took over your home. You had to get to the bottom of it, of everything.

Why does no one else see what you see?

Why does he show up at your work just to see Miss Hunter?

That's when the paranoia started to occur– he had to know right. To know that you knew who he was. Not just Sylus, head of Onychinus, but all of his other aliases as well.

When the two of you would incidentally bump into each other as you were headed into the Hunter’s association and he was headed out and your eyes met? He had to know.

When you would accidentally see him and Miss Hunter on a date and she would say hi to you? He had to know.

Eventually, he did know. Somehow he figured it out, possibly due to how nervous you became around him, or maybe your indepth searching and piecing together was not as slick as you hoped it was. However it happened, it happened and he found out.

As were the consequences but your life threatened. It wasn’t loud, there wasn’t any kidnapping, and it wasn’t over-the-top. He approached you on a day out with some colleagues, Miss Hunter included, and when just the two of you were alone he spoke.

He told you he knew, and that if you told anyone you were dead, but that he needed you for his own research: to figure out how in the hell you figured it out. You told him you didn’t figure out anything, you just recognized him, and that perplexed him more.

So it began, Sylus wormed his way into your life. You were his test dummy, another hunter associate undercover, and a great weakness. He would regularly tell you how little it would matter to him if he had to kill you if you found a way to expose him. Unsurprisingly you never had the courage to threaten him back.

Still the seeds had been planted of your inevitable attraction to him, so you realized later. He started spending more time with you, unintentional at first but still present.

Then Miss Hunter began seeing a painter on the coast more and more. Their…. Tumultuous relationship was the initial roadblock, but with every hour spent less with her, the more seconds spent with you.

Eventually, you would consider him a friend– he would never admit that. However, there was no other explanation for the things you did together, or the things you knew about him.

He always had secrets and information he would never tell you, but he was opening up more. Every time he would it would catch you off guard. He would say something or do something uncharacteristic. Maybe he would offer you his coat when it was windy, or he would tell you a band you like was coming to Linkon and ask if you wanted tickets. To which how did he even know that? (He has you followed on your music streaming app. He knows what you listen to, idiot.)

You would talk on the phone for a long time, longer than necessary. He would call you for updates on information he sent you to scout out or to tell you he needed you for another test. Although, the conversation would always end up with the two of you talking about your respective days.

Despite the leaps of progress you two went through, the growth was not linear by any means. Some days he treated you like a stranger for no reason. Sometimes he wouldn’t contact you for months and then randomly send a text because you were necessary again. When Miss Hunter was less busy, or actually needed his help, you wouldn’t hear from him at all.

However, if by some means Miss Hunter has no need for him, you would probably receive a message asking you for business. It never ended up being fully for business.

This treatment did not fill you with great confidence. No one likes being second-pick. Though, it felt like a last-pick to you. You got left-overs compared to Miss Hunter. When he did give you things, he offered them half-heartedly along with a contrived explanation. You always had the better mind to decline.

Even when those offers became more genuine, they never stopped feeling like left-overs. You never stopped feeling like he was giving you left-overs.

Even when the tension was finally starting to ramp up. It had been brewing, simmering, on low for a while, but the months before everything changed for you two, the tension was boiling. You were being trapped into a corner unknowingly, and Sylus was melting from the inside out. Every brush of his skin against yours lingered. He was coming to you for comfort and doing it unashamedly. Well mostly, in his own Sylus-esque way.

The research you were a part of to figure out whatever was wrong with you, whatever gave you the ability to see him in every form, dissolved completely.

Whatever intention he had with using your abilities had completely gone awry. All the cover-ups, the excuses, and the lies started to fall apart. Sylus realized, horrified, that he didn’t care that his house of cards to keep him from you was crumbling. Still, he didn’t allow himself to give in. The guilt he felt kept him from doing so.

You were none the wiser. You knew he was conflicted, but you didn’t know how deep it all went. There were times when he couldn’t help himself but give in a little. You weren’t exactly a magnet for attention, but sometimes someone would take notice of you. There was a specific night at a banquet in Linkon everything started coming to a head.

You didn’t usually attend things like this with him, if at all. In fact, this was probably the second time you two had gone to something together. Sylus and his “friend” (not to be conflated with his other friend). You showed up together, but you two didn’t come off as a couple.

There was this guy there who seemed to be interested in you.

Maybe you gave into his advances only to see what Sylus would do….

And his reaction was disappointing. He hardly seemed to care. So instead of fake flirting with the interested guy, you began actually flirting. This stuff never happened, so why not seize the moment, right?

You were in desperate need of attention, and this guy was actually not that bad looking. No one compared to Sylus, but you could close your eyes. Face away from him.

It was when the man began insinuating you coming home with him that Sylus seemed to crack.

“We're leaving now.” His voice rumbled behind you. You almost jumped. When you looked over at him he looked… mildly inconvenienced. Your lips parted as your brows scrunched in confusion. The man across from you coughed uncomfortably into his fist.

“Theres an emergency.” He continued. His tone was slightly more serious, darker. You turned back slightly aggravated that he just ruined your fun.

“Can’t you handle it by yourself?” Your voice has a little bite to it under the surface, though you still smiled.

Sylus rebuffed you in an instant.

“No.”

You ended up getting into the passenger seat of his car not but five minutes later, and the tension was so thick it was palpable in the air. You would shift in your seat, he would grip the steering wheel a little tighter.

You swallowed. You knew there was no emergency, and you knew that he knew that you knew there was no emergency. Still everything was almost frozen in space and time. There was no going back, and his intentions were as clear as day. So were yours, as you let him take you home. You could have argued, stayed with the other guy, but you didn’t. You never wanted to in the first place:

You set a trap for him to fall into and he willingly fell right into it.

He pulled up to your apartment and you didn’t move. Instead, your eyes found his, and you both just stared. He looked conflicted as his gaze visibly mapped your face. You weren’t sure who would speak first, not until he took the initiative,

“We should go separate ways.”

Your heart sank.

“What?” Your voice didn’t even feel real as you spoke. He continued unfazed.

“This is done,” He looked away, staring at the road ahead. Anything but you.

You sputtered, “I don’t understand.” You weren’t sure what he was talking about, what lie he was referring to, or if by some chance he was talking about the truth.

“The project I started. It's over.” He said it so matter-of-factly, like he didn’t care. Like he was letting you down easy, and he still wasn’t looking at you. Like you weren’t worth looking at while he was breaking you open with his words.

You couldn’t even speak, didn't know what to say, still your mouth opened, “I-” but ruthlessly he continued.

“This still stands: You say anything and you're dead.” He said harshly, still not sparing you a glance.

Your mouth hung open, eyes desperately searching his face for any hint of this being some kind of set up. He couldn’t leave you like this, but you started doubting yourself again. Did you make it all up, every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every late night call, it meant nothing?

You tried to speak, but he cut you off again, “Get out. Don’t contact me again. Don’t act like you know me at work if I show up randomly.” Humiliation is dowsed all over your body.

You almost want to say no. To put your foot down, to say you're not leaving this car until he looks at you, and even though it's on the tip of your tongue, you can’t bring yourself to say anything.

You just recline into submission, grabbing your bag and exiting his car. You keep glancing back as you walk away just to see if maybe your eyes will meet again, but they never do and eventually your apartment door is behind you.

A part of you can’t believe that everything between you two ended just like that, and yet another more reasonable side of yourself knew it would end up like this all along.