#cryo archon

“and that’s funny to you?”

you saw a small smile tugged at the corner of lohen’s mouth, “a little, yeah.”

you didn’t mind lohen’s antics at first. if anything, some of his pranks you found genuinely funny. watching a feared fatui harbinger sneak fake reports onto another commander’s desk with a perfectly straight face was entertaining in its own absurd way.

but that opinion of yours began to waver when your teammates quietly pulled you aside, asking for a bit of your time.

seated in front of your teammates, it was mostly sandrone who were doing all the talking, though everyone wanted a thorough investigation and background check on lohen. and maybe knock some sense into him.

“aren’t you supposed to know everything?”

you eyes almost twitched at the way sandrone looked you up and down as if telling you ‘if you can’t do this, then why are you even here?’. you scanned their faces one by one, not giving them any reaction. you wanted to see if they were all on the same page.

a light laugh escaped your lips, “before i accept this.. demand of yours, may i ask what exactly you want me to do with him?”

there was one thing your teammates never seemed to understand. you didn’t answer to them. you never had.

your name wasn’t on their roster, nor were you bound by their command. you served the tsaritsa directly, and everyone in the fatui knew it. if an order didn’t come from the tsaritsa herself, you had every right to turn around and walk away.

so when they asked you to “handle” lohen, your first instinct was to laugh.

what a ridiculous request.

it wasn’t in your contract.

but it did sound interesting.

your pride quietly whispered that if anyone could get through to the troublesome harbinger, it was you.

you rested your chin against your hand, pretending to think it over while the agents waited for your answer.

finally, you sighed, “you all owe me one.”

a chorus of relieved exhalations filled the room. not because you worked for them, but because your ego refused to believe there was a challenge you couldn’t handle.

you kept watch of lohen for a few weeks. this time, you went into the archives to see if there’s anything—a hint or a clue—that would somehow lead you to finding out who exactly is he.

the archives were inaccessible to everyone but you and the tsaritsa.

hidden away from the rest of the palace and protected by layers of security, the chamber had remained sealed for years. no harbinger, no agent, no servant had ever set foot inside.

which meant only one thing—no one could have broken in. no one could have stolen the confidential files.

to your surprise, there was nothing. no file. no report. not even a single mention of lohen’s name.

you frowned. it didn’t make any sense.

you knew the tsaritsa was meticulous when it came to her harbingers. every one of them (including you) had a record—background investigations, psychological evaluations, combat assessments, even detailed notes on their appearance and habits.

she never accepted anyone into the fatui without knowing exactly who they were.

so why was lohen the only exception?

the empty space where his file should have been unsettled you far more than any classified document ever could.

you wondered if the tsaritsa knew something you didn’t. but the thought quickly unraveled.

if she truly knew nothing about lohen, she would’ve called for you. she’d done it before—whenever someone intrigued her enough to warrant a closer look, she’d have you uncover every buried secret they possessed.

this time, she hadn’t.

no orders. no investigation. nothing.

which left you with a far more unsettling possibility—the tsaritsa already knew exactly who lohen was.

the real question was how?

how exactly were you supposed to get the infamous troublemaker of the fatui to open up? you nearly laughed at yourself for even entertaining the idea, but it’s not like you really have a choice either.

this was lohen.

the same harbinger who answered serious questions with sarcasm and disappeared whenever conversations became too personal. he wasn’t the kind of man who simply woke up one day and decided to bare his soul.

he wouldn’t casually tell you who he was before he became a harbinger, what he’d lost, or how he’d managed to climb to one of the highest ranks in the fatui.

people didn’t earn that side of him—if it even existed anymore.

with a quiet sigh, you leaned back in your chair.

“this is going to be a lot harder than i thought.”

“what is?”

you jolted in your seat when you heard lohen’s voice as he opened the door to your room. you stared at him for a while, his motives unknown and his smile never faltered.

“what are you doing here?” you asked carefully and quietly. he was never one to visit you or anyone uninvited. unless it was to implement his pranks.. again.

he shrugged and casually made his way to the edge of your bed, making himself cozy as he sat down, looking at you.

“what? i can’t visit you anymore?”

“you don’t visit me, lohen.”

“that’s true,” he laughed at your frowning face. “but the tsaritsa figured we should hang out more.”

you shot him a look that said ‘what are you talking about?’ because you haven’t heard such news before and surely if what he’s saying is true, then the tsaritsa would’ve told you personally.

“the tsaritsa told me about a mission with you, sadly. i was expecting the robot girl or the moon one, but here we are!” he gestured his hands boredly like he was showing a magic trick.

you didn’t think what lohen was saying was true, until you heard it directly from her highness. she said you were supposed to be keeping watch of the situation in a ball held in fontaine.

the trip was awkward to say the least.

lohen wasn’t exactly making eye contact or casual conversations even though you were both seated in front of each other. it was as if you were both trying to ignore each other.

unluckily for the both of you, you have a task to get out of this mission with him—make him talk, vulnerable even. it was one of your greatest strengths—or so the tsaritsa had told you herself.

you were willing to swallow your pride if it meant getting answers.

embarrassing yourself, playing the fool, letting others underestimate you… none of it mattered as long as it brought you one step closer to the truth.

people were far more careless around someone they didn’t perceive as a threat. and if sacrificing your image meant uncovering valuable intel, then it was a price you had never hesitated to pay.

“i know i have a great side profile and all, but don’t you think you’re staring a bit hard?”

lohen had been absentmindedly watching the scenery pass beyond the window. then he turned his head. his eyes met yours.

only then did you realize you’d been staring the entire time, your thoughts having drifted so far into figuring out how to befriend him that you hadn’t noticed.

his brow lifted ever so slightly, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“…see something you like?”

you scoffed at his teasing, “i wasn’t staring.”

“mmhm, no, i agree! you weren’t staring. you were admiring.”

your gaze lingered on his face, quietly studying every detail as though the answer might be written somewhere between the curve of his smile and the calm in his eyes.

what kind of person would make lohen lower his guard someone quiet? someone bold? someone who challenged him at every turn?

you had worn countless masks before, slipping into whatever role the mission demanded. it had always come naturally. but sitting in front of him… for the first time, none of them seemed to fit. still, you forced one on anyway.

anything to pry open the walls he’d built so carefully around himself. anything to find the man hiding behind the smile.

“just wondering why the tsaritsa paired me up with you of all people.”

the corners of lohen’s lips curled a little higher, amusement dancing in his eyes. “oh?” he hummed, tilting his head ever so slightly. “i didn’t know you had it in you to question the tsaritsa like that.”

he teased, his smile never wavering. “i thought you were her good little puppy.”

the words were light—playful, even—but the way he watched you suggested he was searching for your reaction just as much as you were searching for his.

your breath caught ever so slightly. it irritated you. not because of what he’d said—but because it was him who’d said it. you shrugged the feeling off as quickly as possible, before he could notice.

“and you’re not?”

his smile slowly wore off, breaking the eye contact to look at the view once again before whispering something he thought you wouldn’t hear.

“you have no idea.”

you didn’t know what he meant by what he said. his mood clearly changed from teasing to distant, but before you could ponder on it, the driver of the vehicle announced that you’d have to get on a ship in order to reach fontaine.

for all the trouble lohen caused around headquarters, one thing had always remained true.

though he was still being obviously distant, he was, surprisingly, a gentleman.

beneath his endless pranks, his sarcastic remarks, and the chaos that seemed to follow him wherever he went, there was an effortless kind of thoughtfulness that surfaced when no one expected it.

it was easy to mistake him for a menace.

it was much harder to ignore the kindness hidden underneath.

as you stepped toward the ship, lohen silently held out his hand. he didn’t look at you. instead, his gaze remained fixed somewhere off to the side, as though pretending the gesture wasn’t a big deal.

his hand stayed there nonetheless, unwavering, waiting for yours to find it.

you hesitated. with lohen, even the simplest gestures came with a hint of suspicion. you couldn’t tell whether this was another one of his pranks or if he was simply teasing you for his own amusement.

your eyes flickered from his outstretched hand to his face. after a moment’s pause, you slipped your hand into his.

his fingers closed around yours with an ease that made it seem as though he’d been expecting you to trust him all along.

his hand wrapped around your skin with a cold touch that sent a shiver crawling down your spine.

you hadn’t expected his hand to be so cold.

for a brief moment, neither of you spoke.

“…thank you,” you murmured, barely above a whisper.

lohen only gave a small nod, his grip steady as he helped you aboard. you expected him to let your hand go the moment your foot reached the final step of the stairs, but he held it with grace and security.

you watched him for a brief moment. he maintained a stoic expression, smiling at the passengers here and there as they acknowledged you two’s presence.

maybe he wasn’t so bad as they claimed him to be.

the thought slipped into your mind so naturally that it caught you off guard. you quickly pushed it aside and continued walking.

the ship carried a modest crowd of passengers, its decks alive with the quiet hum of conversation and the gentle crash of waves against the hull.

judging by the elegant gowns, finely tailored suits, and polished shoes that caught the afternoon light, it wasn’t difficult to guess where they were headed.

like you and lohen, they were all bound for the grand ball in fontaine. it was an annual tradition hosted by the hydro archon herself.

the air buzzed with excitement, strangers exchanging pleasantries while others admired the endless stretch of the sea ahead, blissfully unaware that two fatui harbingers stood quietly among them, hidden behind borrowed names and practiced smiles.

it wasn’t your first time setting foot in fontaine. in fact, over the years, you’d made some acquaintances when you were out to have dinner with arlecchino.

now that you’re back, you couldn’t help but be excited yourself. especially when the mission involves your forte and personal favorite—spying and blending in.

the mission itself was nothing out of the ordinary. you’ve done countless of spyings and blending ins, spent years disappearing into crowds, stealing secrets from beneath people’s noses, and leaving before anyone realized you’d ever been there. lohen had a similar reputation.

but working undercover wasn’t the difficult part, working together was. because since joining the fatui, you and lohen have never once been assigned a partner—the lonesome fatuis in the eyes of everyone.

you’d completed countless assignments, but never side by side. lohen was a complete mystery to you—one you were willing to solve.

“remember the plan?” he asked when you were both finally seated comfortably at the back of the ship.

“i’d rather talk about it at the hotel than risk being caught.”

“..hotel?” he clarifies, seemed to have forgotten that you’ll first be booking a hotel to change into appropriate clothing for the ball. because right now, both of you are looking like a couple of aristocrats with the fur coats and everything.

“yeah we’re not wearing these at the ball.” there was nothing wrong with fur coats per se, but you didn’t want to stand out as well. right now, even as you were seated, you can feel eyes staring and looking your way. it’s too risky when all their attention is on the both of you. not to mention you were both unfamiliar faces to the citizens on board.

lohen didn’t seemed to mind your plan of changing outfits and just shrugged as he rested his head on his seat. he chuckled a bit, making you look at him.

“soo.. what should we talk about then?”

“didn’t know you liked talking so much.”

“i don’t.” he replied way too fast than he would’ve liked, but the smile on his face never left as he looked at you.

you rolled your eyes at him and laughed lightly. “we can talk when we get there.”

“c’mon.” lohen flashed you that infuriatingly easy smile. “don’t you wanna know more about me?”

the words struck you harder than they should have.

wasn’t that the whole point?

you were supposed to be doing everything—anything—to learn more about the man sitting beside you. that was your job. your specialty.

yet somehow, you kept stalling.

every possible opportunity slipped through your fingers, not because you couldn’t take it, but because, for reasons you couldn’t understand, asking lohen questions no longer felt like gathering intel. it felt personal.

which was crazy to think about because you haven’t really had much time with him yet. scared of this newfound dilemma, you decided to give in and ask him a few things.

“what did you mean when you said ‘you have no idea’?”

“i’d prefer you don’t know.”

“let’s stop talking.”

he laughed at your sudden defeat when he didn’t want to answer. lohen figured it wasn’t the time to tell you. at the end of day, you were still a fatui harbinger—loyal to the tsaritsa.

you were greeted by lovely people working at the hotel debord. everyone was welcoming, maybe a tad bit more than required, but nonetheless sweet.

“enjoy your stay, lovely couple! ring us up if you need us!”

you didn’t really have time to reject the receptionist’s thought about the two of you being a couple. you said your gratitude and turned to where the elevator was.

lohen followed a step behind as you unlocked the door to your room.

the moment it swung open, you froze.

a bottle of champagne rested in a silver bucket filled with ice. rose petals were scattered neatly across the bed, and the curtains had been drawn, leaving the room bathed in the warm glow of lamplight.

you slowly blinked. then mentally buried your face in your hands.

…so this was how hotel debord welcomed couples.

behind you, lohen remained suspiciously quiet.

you didn’t have to look to know there was a grin spreading across his face.

“this,” he finally said, his voice laced with amusement, “is going to make the mission a lot more interesting.”

you let out a long, defeated sigh. you were going to have a word with whoever handled the reservations.

“mind telling me the plan now?”

“we’ll pretend to be business partners.”

“business partners seems a little suspicious. we’ll have to mingle with people, what’re we gonna tell them about our business?”

“you have a better idea?”

“let’s pretend to be a couple.”

your head quickly turned to him as you were doing your hair in the dresser. you found him putting on a suit that accentuated his features and body. only to find him looking at you.

“why a couple?”

“well, if the word goes around, we’re known as business partners, and hotel debord finds out.. who books a single room—with flower petals on the bed, might i add—with their business partner? they’ll think we’re hiding something.”

and so it begins.

the grand ballroom of the palais mermonia glittered beneath towering crystal chandeliers, every polished floor reflecting the swirl of gowns and tailored suits. laughter drifted through the room alongside the soft melody of a string quartet.

lohen’s hand rested comfortably against the small of your back as the two of you weaved through fontaine’s nobility, smiling as though you belonged there.

“you make a lovely couple.”

the woman who approached you spoke with a warm smile, champagne glass poised delicately between her fingers.

you returned the smile without hesitation.

“thank you.”

“so,” a man chimed in, clearly intrigued, “how did the two of you meet?”

before you could fabricate an answer, lohen beat you to it.

“i annoyed them.”

you looked at him.

“…that’s the best you can do?”

“it worked, didn’t it?” he replied with an innocent shrug.

the guests laughed.

you rolled your eyes before looping your arm through his.

“it took him months to convince me to go out with him.”

lohen placed a hand dramatically over his heart.

“you kissed me the first date though.”

“that’s not what they’re asking.”

laughter emerged from them at your bickering.

to anyone watching, the two of you looked impossibly natural—playful glances, effortless smiles, the occasional brush of hands.

exactly what the mission required.

when another conversation began pulling lohen’s attention away, you took your chance.

“excuse me,” you said sweetly. “i’ll be back in a moment.”

no one questioned you. least of all lohen.

he merely gave the smallest nod—the silent confirmation that everything was proceeding according to plan.

instead of turning toward the ladies’ room, you slipped into a quiet corridor, your footsteps muffled by thick carpets until the music became little more than a distant echo.

the office door yielded with little resistance.

inside, moonlight spilled through tall windows onto towering bookshelves overflowing with reports, correspondence, and legal records. a massive oak desk dominated the room, every drawer meticulously organized.

you shut the door behind you.

then began searching.

your fingers moved quickly, opening folders, scanning names, memorizing anything related to fontaine’s archon.

nothing.

nothing.

still nothing.

you reached for another stack. a single folder slid loose from the pile.

your breath caught.

[ LOHEN ]

then name stared back at you in bold black ink.

for a moment, the room seemed to fall silent.

impossible.

back in zapolyarny palace, the harbingers’ archives had contained nothing about him. not a report. not a single page. you had searched twice just to make sure.

yet here—in fontaine, someone had an entire dossier.

your heartbeat thundered in your ears as you carefully opened the file.

the first page was clinical.

recommendation: subject should not be assigned long-term interpersonal attachments due to elevated risk factors.

you frowned.

the following reports contradicted nearly everything whispered about harbinger lohen.

mission after mission described deviations from direct orders.

during operations, the subject repeatedly prioritized civilian safety over mission efficiency.

the subject was observed providing food and medical supplies to targeted settlements after fatui withdrawal.

witnesses reported the subject escorting children and elderly civilians away from combat zones before engaging hostile forces.

one report detailed an entire village that should have been left to starve under economic sanctions. instead.. someone had anonymously delivered crates of food, blankets, and medicine.

the handwriting beneath the report was sharp.

confirmed responsible party: lohen.

another page.

then another.

the pattern repeated.

every time bloodshed could be avoided? he avoided it.

every time innocent lives could be spared? he spared them.

your grip on the folder tightened. this wasn’t the monster the fatui described. it wasn’t even close!

then your eyes landed on another document.

disciplinary action

presiding officer: il dottore.

subject found guilty of repeated insubordination due to unauthorized humanitarian intervention during classified operations.

corrective measures authorized.

the report didn’t describe the punishment. it didn’t need to.

the photographs attached beneath it did.

dark bruises.

blood staining the back of a torn shirt.

medical records documenting fractures that had somehow healed long ago.

you stared at the pages, unable to look away.

lohen had never spoken about any of this.

never complained. never asked for sympathy.

he smiled. he laughed. he pulled harmless pranks around headquarters as though he’d never suffered a day in his life.

the folder suddenly felt far heavier than paper ever should.

you couldn’t look at another page. you’ve seen more than enough. you knew what you wanted to know.

your fingers lingered on the edge of the folder for only a moment before you quietly closed it, your reflection briefly staring back at you from the polished desk.

the room suddenly felt suffocating.

every report. every photograph. every line written in cold, clinical handwriting.

you carefully slid the dossier back onto the shelf exactly where you had found it, making sure nothing looked disturbed.

the ballroom hadn’t changed. music still drifted beneath glittering chandeliers.

guests laughed as they danced across the marble floor, oblivious to the weight now pressing against your chest.

you eyes instinctively searched the crowd. lohen. where was he? your heartbeat quickened. where did he go?

you made another lap around the ballroom, trying not to look frantic. nothing.

“…excuse me.”

“…pardon.”

your pace quickened. for the first time since the mission began, panic seeped into your carefully maintained composure.

then—a gentle hand wrapped around your elbow.

you froze.

“there you are.”

his voice. you slowly turned.

lohen stood beside you, dressed as impeccably as before, one hand still lightly holding your arm to keep you from wandering farther into the crowd.

his expression softened. “were you looking for me?”

you simply stared.

he tilted his head ever so slightly. his eyes searched yours, waiting.

well? mission accomplished? did you find something?

the code words sat on the tip of his tongue.

“i want to go home.”

his smile faded. “already?”

you nodded once. “i want to go home.”

he could tell something was wrong.

your eyes refused to meet his. your breathing was shallow. you looked… shaken.

“did something happen?” he asked quietly.

you shook your head. “no.”

“liar.”

the word wasn’t accusing, it was concerned.

he stepped a little closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear.

“did you find the hydro archon’s records?”

your chest tightened. the photographs flashed through your mind.

bruises. bandages. medical reports. corrective measures authorized.

you flinched and lohen caught it.

“…hey.”

without another word, you turned on your heel.

the ballroom suddenly felt too bright. too loud.

you pushed past elegantly dressed guests, ignored the puzzled greetings directed your way, and hurried through the palace doors into the cool night.

the air hit your face, but it did nothing to clear your thoughts.

behind you were footsteps—quick, steady. he wasn’t chasing you. he was following.

“lohen..” you whispered to yourself, almost as though saying his name might somehow steady your racing heart.

it didn’t.

the footsteps grew closer. then stopped.

a hand gently caught yours before you could walk any farther.

you turned beneath the pale moonlight.

his grip wasn’t forceful, it never was. he searched your face in silence, his brows knit together in quiet concern.

“what happened in there?”

you looked at him.

at the man who smiled too easily, who laughed too loudly.

the man everyone insisted was heartless. the man whose file told an entirely different story.

your vision blurred.

“why didn’t you tell me?” the question escaped before you could stop it.

lohen blinked. “tell you what?”

silence. the realization struck him almost instantly.

his expression changed. not into fear. not into anger. but resignation. as though he already knew exactly what you had found.

lohen didn’t answer. at least not immediately.

the moon hung low above fontaine, its pale light spilling across the empty streets between the palais mermonia and hotel debord. the distant music from the ball barely reached the two of you now, replaced by the gentle rush of the sea against the harbor, and the sudden droplets of rain touching your skin.

he simply looked at you, studied you. “you found something.”

it wasn’t a question.

you swallowed.

“i…” the words refused to come.

how were you supposed to ask him?

why did dottore torture you?

why were there reports of you helping civilians?

why did the archives have nothing on you?

none of them felt right.

none of them were your questions to ask.

“you found something,” lohen repeated, softer this time. “guessing it wasn’t the hydro archon’s?”

you lowered your gaze. “no.”

silence settled between you. lohen let out a slow breath, rubbing the back of his neck before looking toward the water instead of at you.

“i knew this mission would be troublesome.”

you frowned. “what does that mean?”

he smiled, not his usual mischievous grin. a tired one.

“it means fontaine keeps records it shouldn’t.”

the answer only frustrated you more.

“you always do that.”

“hm?”

“you answer without answering.”

his smile faltered. for the first time since you’d met him, lohen looked uncertain. as though he genuinely didn’t know what to say.

“i’ve spent weeks trying to figure you out,” you admitted, your voice quieter than intended. “i searched the archives back home.”

that made his head turn. “the archives?”

“there was nothing.”

he stared.

“not a single report. not even your name.”

his expression became unreadable.

“but tonight…” you hesitated, your heartbeat quickening. “there was an entire dossier.”

lohen closed his eyes. “i see.”

“you knew?”

“i had a feeling.”

“you knew there were files about you?”

“no.” he shook his head. “i knew someone would eventually find out.”

“that’s all you have to say?”

“are you happy?”

the answer irritated you.

“what?”

“are you happy?” he repeated. “isn’t that what you wanted? to find out more?”

you took a step closer.

“i saw what dottore did to you.”

his shoulders stiffened.

“i saw the reports.”

he didn’t move.

“i saw the photographs.”

your hand found the collar of his shirt before you could think twice and gently tugged him toward you.

lohen stumbled half a step, his mesmerizing eyes finally meeting yours. the distance between you disappeared in an instant.

your faces were only inches apart now, close enough to feel the warmth of each other’s breath.

“you think i like that shit?”

it made your chest ache. no matter how cold everyone believed you to be, what they had done to him was—and would never be—right.

you had failed to see it. or perhaps you had simply chosen not to.

for someone entrusted with uncovering the truth, you had been blinded by the very light the tsaritsa cast upon the fatui, accepting everything at face value without ever questioning what lay beneath.

it made you feel foolish.

you prided yourself on knowing what others didn’t, on seeing through lies and half-truths.

yet when it came to lohen… you hadn’t even thought to look.

you should’ve asked more, looked closer, questioned everything. instead, you believed the version of him everyone else had written.

“everyone said you enjoyed killing people.”

your voice cracked.

“i never said that.”

“you never corrected them either.”

lohen laughed. it was humorless. “when would i have had the chance?”

“you could’ve told me.” you replied, though you wish you hadn’t said it.

“i barely knew you.” he stared right at you. “if i’d told you the first time we met…” he continued, “…would you have believed me?”

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. because you knew he was right. you would’ve assumed it was another one of his jokes.

your fingers slowly loosened around the collar of his shirt before letting go.

“you’ve spent your whole life gathering information,” lohen said. “so tell me… when was the last time a file told the whole truth about someone?”

the question lingered. you thought about every dossier you’d ever read. every target. every report. every carefully summarized life reduced to a few sheets of paper.

none of them had ever captured a person completely.

“i-i don’t know,” you whispered.

he nodded. “exactly.”

the silence that followed felt strangely gentle. for the first time that night, neither of you spoke. neither of you needed to.

you looked at the man standing before you—not as harbinger lohen, not as the troublemaker who drove headquarters insane, not as the name printed across a confidential dossier.

just him—lohen.

the one who held doors open for strangers. the one who quietly offered you his hand when boarding a ship. the one who smiled through pain no one else seemed to notice.

“does it still hurt?” the question slipped out before you could stop it.

lohen blinked. “what?”

“the.. uhh- punishment.”

his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. then he looked away.

“not anymore.”

you knew he was lying. you knew there were wounds that never truly healed.

you stepped closer until only a small space remained between the two of you. and without thinking, you reached for his hand.

he looked down as your fingers intertwined with his. his hand was still cold. just as it had been when he helped you onto the ship.

this time, you were the one holding on. lohen’s thumb brushed absentmindedly across your knuckles.

“you shouldn’t have seen it,” he murmured.

“would you do it again? even after knowing what would happen afterward?”

a faint smile tugged at his lips. “yeah..”

“i didn’t want you to find it.”

“why?”

“because i liked the way you looked at me before.”

“i’m not looking at you any differently,” you whispered.

“you should.”

“why?”

“you could be in trouble.”

“i already knew that.”

silence stretched between you. lohen searched your face, almost as if he were waiting for the disappointment to appear. it didn’t.

“you don’t have to pretend with me anymore.”

his eyes softened. “that’s exactly what i’m afraid of.”

﹫ ꒰ 16lohens ꒱ 𖣂 masterlist.

a/n: HELLOWW EVERYONE! sorry for not posting as much lately! yk the drill 😭 uni tingzZz! here’s a long lohen fic i spent a whole month writing LMAO thank you ! i hope you liked it!