wendeee being saucy

Hell no. Not when he can practically smell which perfume you picked today---is that vanilla?

"This must be a lot," you laugh, leaning back in your chair and the whiff of your scent vanishes. He fights to prevent his face from falling too much. "This is your first group project in college, right? Maybe we can take things slower."

He doesn't like when you say things like that. Actually, some strange part of him does, but it also hurts his pride to think that you see him as some sort of blubbering baby chick who's just learning to flap his wings for the first time. Admittedly, he does feel like a fish out of water in college (who doesn't?), but he doesn't like you knowing that.

What he does like though, is that you seem more comfortable around him. Though he's not sure if it's his age or simply because of his personality. He really hopes it's the latter.

He quickly finds out that his predictions were right---having a crush is bothersome. All he can think about is you. Your cheeky grin when he needs your help, the way his hands dwarf yours when they're beside one another, the way your lips purse when you're focused...he almost feels a bit creepy with the things that he notices. What's worse is that he looks forward to class, which means he's truly too far gone.

But Caleb adapts quickly. He decides that in the first year, he will ask you out. He must. He's never had trouble with this sort of thing in the past (girls usually tended to flock to him for some odd reason), so this shouldn't be so hard, should it? Surely.

This convinces nobody--not even himself.

The first time he tries to confess to you fails because he chickens. He suggests getting ice cream to celebrate submitting your project, insisting that it's his treat. It kinda feels like a date. He hopes it's a date. But when you're standing to leave after a while, he doesn't stop you, just staring at you wave cheerfully goodbye. He's frozen, fully aware that this might be a perfect time, but his thoughts simply won't run. He waves back blankly, wondering if it might be better to just die right there.

The second time is when he shows you his room for the first time to study together after finding no seats were available at the library. A blessing this exam season turned out to be. The comfortable silence as your pencil scratches against your notebook is more distracting than it ought to be, because it's so quiet that he can hear your breath. He slowly reaches out to tap your shoulder, insisting to himself that now is the time like a prayer meant for nobody but himself. Of course, your phone rings, and he jumps back like a kicked puppy, humiliated while you remain blissfully unaware.

The third time, you get interrupted by your friends.

The fourth time, he falls deathly ill and can't make it to hang out (though he only cancels after you threaten to block him if he doesn't stay home).

The fifth time, you mishear him and completely misinterpret what he said.

By the sixth time, he's starting to wonder if the universe hates him. The year is about to end now, and you're spending your last day on campus beside him, reminiscing about the year. He tries to focus on what you're saying while also engraving the image of you into his mind, though an ugly, festering thought begins to flicker in the back of his mind. He could tell you now. He could, and maybe you'd be surprised.

But would you like him back? I mean, considering you've known him for nearly a year now, if you found him attractive, wouldn't you have shown signs of liking him too? He tries to think hard about whether he's ever made you nervous or flustered, but all he can see is that painfully adorable grin that's getting ready to make fun of him somehow. Never shy. Never taken aback by him.

He moves his head to the side, nails digging indents into the meat of his palms. Of course you don't see him that way. To you, he's just some floundering freshman who you happened to take in because of a group project assignment out of sheer luck. To you, he's just a friend you managed to squeeze in because he's been so persistent. He hopes you see him as less as a burden and more of as a friend, at least, and that thought in itself makes him want to curl up in a hole and die. Have you ever seen him that way? Can you every see him that way?

The answer lingering on his tongue makes his nails dig deeper.

His eyes flicker to your hands perched aside one another, your pinkies just centimeters away from touching, and his chest clenches. What a joke. He's been right all along. He curses these damn feelings, and this damn school, and this damn predicament that has him wanting to get on his knees while also smashing his lips against yours.

"Caleb?"

He stops, turning to look at you. His eyes widen just the slightest when he sees your bashful expression, like you've just broken something and don't want to tell him. You scratch anxiously at the back of your neck, and it makes his throat bob.

He thinks it's so damn cute.

"Wanna go out with me some time?"

life in the n109 zone had felt bleaker and bleaker to sylus. not even the visits from ms. hunter could lift his spirits. it was like there was something out there, something far beyond his comprehension, but every time he tried to reach for it, he would miss it.

there were random times throughout the day that he felt like he was being watched, especially with ms. hunter. he thought someone had been tailing him, but his searches into it came up empty.

it took a particularly late night of reviewing documents that barely made sense and a look out the window for him to realize why everything felt off.

on the other side was the most beautiful person he had ever seen, their expression soft, eyes sparkling as they looked at him. he wanted to reach out, ask what was happening, but found himself still.

"hi, sylus," the person mumbled, and he was bewildered as he started speaking, saying something about coffee on the beach. what was going on?

"i wish you were here," your voice was soft, quiet in the supposed space between you both. he wanted to reach out, wipe away the sudden frown on your face. why was he reacting so strongly to your presence? "work was kinda terrible."

you paused, and he could tell you were falling asleep from the droop of your eyelids. "at least i can see you here.." and with that, you had drifted, leaving him with the perfect angle of your sleeping features. and as he watched, all he could think was one thing.

who were you?

he found out over the next couple of weeks. every time you seemingly had a break or were bored, your face would appear, all smiles and cheer as you saw him. he noticed that you seemed less willing to talk to him on your better days, your quiet vulnerability only showing itself when you were feeling down.

you seemed intrigued by the story between him and ms. hunter, and he would always try his best to fulfill what you wanted anytime you played through the story. you seemed blissfully unaware that he was watching you when you were watching the mc, far too caught up what she was doing to notice his gaze on you.

the more he watched of you, the more he fell for you. you were adorable, often squealing over him in your other apps (because of course he found a way to access them), not leaving your house often.

he was glad for that. it meant he saw you often.

but of course, for someone as greedy as him, he wouldn't content himself to just watching.

no, he wanted you by his side. he wanted to be able to make you smile beside him, to hold you on those nights where you couldn't face it alone, to let you experience the life you seemed to eager to see with him and the mc.

pulling the strings wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. with his expertise with your device's code, he found himself breaking boundary after boundary, border after border-

until he was able to break out of the screen, warm and real and living. you were sleeping, as you often were during these times at night, and he found himself smiling as he took you in. seeing you in all your beauty, not through that silly screen, made him breathless.

when you woke up in the morning, your device was off, which wasn't really unusual.

what was odd was the new crack that definitely wasn't there before, as well as the smell of food cooking.

you lived alone.

heart racing, you made your way to the kitchen, preparing yourself for an attack. or maybe your friend had dropped by?

the last thing you were prepared for was a familiar head of white hair, an off-key hum filling the space as he flipped food in a pan.

as if you weren't already in disbelief, he turned to you, and those familiar red eyes were suddenly real, that cocky smirk on his lips as he looked at you.

"well, someone's awake." he mused, turning back to the pan like your world wasn't crumbling around you. "breakfast is almost done."

"you-" you spluttered, eyes wide. "are you.. real??"

"as real as you want me to be." he teased, turning back to you with a smile. "hungry?"

"i-" you were ushered into a seat, where he served breakfast. your favorite, you belatedly realized. "how are you.. why are you?-"

"are you doubting my abilities?" he sat down in front of you, nodding to your plate. "go ahead, sweetie."

the nickname made you shiver, but you quietly reached for the food, beginning to eat. you couldn't really believe he was here, and you found your voice. "but you're supposed to be with mc."

he rose a brow, tilting his head at you. "mc? she might be my fated in that world, but you.." he smiled, reaching out to wipe some crumbs from your face. "you're the real one behind her. how could i not want to be in this world with you?"

"b-but i'm nothing like her-"

"and that concerns me how?" he tilted his head, chuckling softly. "i'm not here because i want a copy of her. i want you, lovely." he smiled, devilish, as he took your hand and kissed the back of it. "now, why don't you show me around this world of yours?"

You turned on your playlist because the way back home wasnt belong to the shortest. The soft music in the background in combination with the sun just rising almost lulled you to sleep. That was until a familiar voice pulled you from your daze. "Darling, are you hungry? There's still a long route ahead of us."his hand rested on your thigh, stroking it gently. "I want some ice-cream Zayne. Hospital's food wasn't a very pleasant experience."you whined and he was more than happy to hear you complaining, considering how weak youve been this past few days. He nodded, changing the location on the phone to the nearest cafe on the way.

"Which flavour do you want, Ms?" the older lady with a warm smile asked you. You looked at your husband with pleading eyes. "Go ahead, choose whatever you want." You ended up with a large cup of ice cream in four different flavours. You pointed the spoon towards your husband to let him taste it. "I do have my own dessert, love."

"C'mon Zayne, don't tell you didn't look at that ice cream for like 5 minutes straight?"he chuckled at being caught, accepting another spoon of your ice cream.

You were sitting cross-legged on your double bed, Zayne's hands worked with surgical precision to treat your wound. "Ouch."a sound of pain left your mouth and he noticed it immediately. "Don't move."he ordered as he sprayed sore spot on your skin with antisceptic. "The healing process is complex. The pain will subside over time."he reassured you and kissed your forehead.

The next morning you woke up later than usual. Your body felt heavy from events of past days. You put your slippers on and made your way to the kitchen. Zayne was already there, stirring something in the pan. The aroma filled your nostrils. "You're awake."he stated. "I'd help you up. You shouldn't overexert yourself."

"Zaynie, i'm fine. Just a little sore."you smiled and hugged him from behind. "Don't underestimate your condition. The surgery was complicated. Your body needs more rest than usual to regain its strengths."his tone more solemn now. "Sit. I prepared breakfast for you." You were about to move your chair when he stopped you. "Wait." He put a cushion on the chair that he had prepared earlier just in case. "Is this really necessary?"you chuckled. "It is." But he was absolutely serious.

As the days passed, you felt better each day. You were grateful that you had your husband. Despite his busy schedule, he tried to be with you at very rehab session. You claimed that you felt better and could do simple chores, but he wouldn't let you. He prioritize your well-being and told you to rest. When he had time, he cooked meals for you to provide you with all the nutrients. On free weekends he took you for short walks, he knew that staying at home all the time must be tiring for you.

"Zaynie?"you took his hand and looked deep into his hazel green eyes. "What is it, love?"his eyes found yours and softened immediately. "Thank you for taking care of me. Without you, the entire recovery would have taken way longer."your voice shook with emotions. "You're, my wife. I would do it countless times more if I could. However, I was very worried. I wouldn't want to see you like this again. Understood?"he took your face in his hands and squished it. Then he kissed you slowly, deep.

"I love you Zayne."

"Fiiiiine, I'll call you later yeah? Oh, remember to aim for the balls and eyes!" She reminds you. Saying your goodbyes and ending the call, you pocket your phone. A few more steps and you're standing before the door to your floor.

Shouldering the heavy door open, you fiddle with your keys until you're pinching the one you need. Walking down the hall, the hallway lights shine bright, illuminating every crevice and corner it can. Except… the lights at the end of the hall.. near your door.

"Okaay.." trailing off, your eyes scan the shadows as best as you can. Your body tenses up slightly, caution now leading your steps. Every bone in your body is on high alert, adrenaline slowly making it's way through you.

Okay, this is a safe complex. There's no way anything bad could happen here. You chant over and over inside your head. There's nothing to worry about, you're just a little paranoid from your talk with Tara. Right.

Coming up to your door, you let out a sigh of relief. Nothing had jumped out from the shadowy corners and swooped you up. There wasn't any creepy noises or scratching on the wall like some stupid horror movie.

Breathing out a sigh you move forward, key prepped to unlock when your foot runs into something. Something… hard. A big, hard lump. Like a person.

Jumping back, you scramble to pull out your phone, fingers quickly turning on the flashlight. Shining the light at your door, you're met with not a big lump but actually a person.

A big, bloody person.

Panic filled your mind, who the fuck was this guy?! What if someone thought you had been the one to hurt him if you just left him outside?

Assessing his form you quickly discard the thought of stuffing him into the elevator and sending it down. With his body it would be too hard to move him all the way over there.

Quickly unlocking the door, you toss your bag inside and leave the door open. Standing in the doorway you make the dumbest decision of your life. You're going to bring this man inside.

Avoiding the blood on his shirt, your arms hook underneath his armpits and you lift. Well. Try to lift him. He doesn't move much, really doesn't move at all. At least you can feel that he's breathing.

Wrapping your arms around his chest, you grip tightly. The sound of a door unlocking sends alarms through your already frazzled mind, "Fuck—shit!" you hurry and try with all your might to drag the man inside.

With whatever strength you just got, you continue to drag him, feet shuffling against the hardwood floor. Once the man was a good distance in, you quickly let go—wincing at the sound of a harsh thud— and speed to toss his legs inside.

Slamming the door shut and locking it. Leaning against the door your chest rises heavily with your panting breaths. Your eyes slowly take in the man before you, long limbs and blood littering his clothes and skin.

"This is bad. This is really, really fucking bad."

Shooting forward, you scramble around your apartment. Hip hitting the edge of the table, shoes catching on the carpet, you frantically search for what you're looking for. Which of course takes longer than it should because you keep going back to make sure the stranger didn't wake up.

Dragging a chair into the living room you place the man against it. Kneeling next to him you begin to tie him to it, knotting the rope and sheets together. You eye the steady rise and fall of his chest. He didn't appear to be struggling with breathing so maybe he wasn't hurt that bad.

Sitting back, your hands hover over the strangers body. While he certainly doesn't appear to be bleeding you have to make sure. It would be a pain in the ass to clean up if he bled out all over your vintage rug.

"Okay, okay.. just a look." your hands shake slightly as you unbutton his shirt. The smooth expanse of his milky skin unveils, the ridges of his abs making themselves known.

Well, this stranger was attractive. Not that you would ever admit that to another soul.

Spreading his shirt as open as you can, you quickly scan for any obvious wounds but find none. So the blood must not have been his… okay.

This man could be dangerous. He could be some fucking mafia boss or something.

The thought jolts you back to your senses. Quickly moving back, you make the decision to tie up his legs. All you had left was spare sheets so you wrap his freakishly long legs up into the hardest knot you could think of. And connected it to the binds around his chest.

Crawling away from him, you put distance between the two of you. Some random man was inside your apartment. Granted you had brought him in but that's besides the point. You take a trip to the kitchen and grab your biggest knife.

Turning your little table onto its side, you take refuge behind it. Armed with a pot lid and an absurdly long knife, you stare at the unconscious man.

There's a man, covered in blood that might not be his own, tied to a chair in the middle of your living room.

A man that you have never seen before in your life, not even on the street (you're sure you would have remembered him.)

A man that could be tied up with some kind of bad things. Maybe he owed someone money or he screwed them over.

The only thing you hadn't thought of was what you were going to do when he woke up. Would he easily break free? Would he overpower you and harm you?

Swallowing thickly your hand holding the lid reaches for the phone in your pocket. Okay, you thought, I can call the police and wait for them! Of course you'd make up a reason as to why you let him inside your home, duh.

Your fingers brushed against the camera, briefly looking down at your legs when you heard a groan. Snapping your head up, your gaze quickly finds the stranger. His face twists up in some emotion, eyes slowly working themselves open.

You watch as he tries to move his arms only to be stopped by the bindings around him. He doesn't try to move after that. Peeking over the table, hands firm and ready to attack, a soft gasp leaving you when his eyes open and stare straight at you.

Crimson eyes bore into yours, gaze unwavering. He doesn't speak, doesn't move, doesn't look away. His face shows no emotions, lips in a thin line and eyes empty.

Maybe you had a psychopath in your living room. Great.

Staring straight back at him you work up the courage to say something. "Who are you?" you mentally pat yourself on the back for sounding steady. All the man does is blink stupidly at you.

A mix of anxiety and frustration pools in your gut. Deciding to try again, you call out again, "Hey dude! Who are you?"

Once again the stranger just stares at you. Okay he was freaky and ruining your night. Debating on if you should put down your shield to grab your phone, your eyes widen when you see a small smirk curve on his lips.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you behind that table, kitten."

Okay his voice was hot. Throwing the thought away you huff at him, "You can hear me just fine! Now, tell me who you are and why you're covered in blood! And why you were in front of my door!"

That stupid smirk stays on his face as his head tilts. "It's such a shame that I can't hear you, all I can hear are little mews from a hiding kitten."

Oh great, this freak man was teasing you, or worse, flirting.

"I'm not a kitten!" you scoff, hand holding the knife waving in the air. "You're in no position to play games with me dude! I'm armed, and—and the police are on their way." Your hand jabs in the air once more as a threat before coming back down beside you.

That makes the stranger chuckle, deep huffs coming from his rosy lips. He relaxed back, chair creaking under his weight. Maybe you should have used something sturdier.

"I think you're lying."

His voice held this teasing tone, dragging the ends of his words out. "Oh yeah? Why's that?" narrowing your eyes at him over the table. He simply shrugged, broad shoulders scrunching his open shirt.

Okay so you had forgotten about that. His blazing gaze dropped to his torso, his exposed skin illuminated by the light. His smirk grew even wider, sharp teeth peeking from behind his lips.

"Couldn't help yourself? Had to cop a feel or two?"

His words caused you to sputter out protests, head popping completely from the table. "Yuck! I didn't cop a feel, I was simply checking for any injuries because I didn't want your gross blood all over my rug."

His eyes roved over your face, leaving a heated trail in its wake. "It's a good idea you definitely decided to call the cops then because I can make a report."

"A what?" Your eyebrows furrowed, hands coming to curl around the edge of the table. "Why in the world would you need to do that? I should be the one doing that!"

The stranger chuckled once more. "Well I'm the one tied up with my shirt unbuttoned in a strangers apartment. Who knows what you could have done to little old me."

"What?!"

Your hands reach blindly before latching onto something on the ground, fingers curling around it then letting go as it launches across the room.

It lands against his slacks, your beat up sneakers, little specks of dirt landing onto there material. He breathes out a deep sigh, head bowing as his eyes clothes.

"I'm not the one who decided to pass out, covered in blood might I add, in front of a strangers door!" Shooting up from your crouch you begin to pace, walking circles behind the table.

"What kind of freak does that? You, clearly, but really? You just had to stop in front of my door and leave your grossness everywhere?"

"Ouch, you're starting to hurt my feelings kitten." Shooting him a glare, you stop pacing. Frowning softly you take him in, since he woke up he hasn't tried to move at all, binds still tight around him.

He almost looks relaxed. Like this situation doesn't bother him one bit or he's done this before. And that bothers you deeply.

"Oh so you're a serial pass out covered in blood on a strangers doorstep-er? You do this often? Is this how you pick up people, how you ask them on a date?"

You're just spewing shit now, not even completing full thoughts before speaking. The stranger's eyebrow rises at your words, soft chuckle leaving his pretty lips. "Are you thinking about going on a date with me? My, my kitten we just met, I still have gross blood all over me after all."

The slight purr in his voice sends goosebumps up your spine. Where are your morals? Teeth chewing on your nail, you debate what to do. Realistically you should call the cops, already should have, but there was just.. something about this man that made you hold off from it.

Flipping the table back onto its legs, you place your "weapons" onto the table before taking a seat onto the wood. Crossing your legs, you gesture at him, "Tell me the truth."

The man studies you, eyes slowly running up and down your body before he meets your gaze. "If I do that I'll have to kill you." he says simply, "And I don't want to have to do that. You're a feisty little kitten."

Something tells you that he was completely serious, so you ask the next best thing. "Okay.. then tell me what you can." you don't speak, waiting for him to decide what to do.

The man is silent for a long while, no doubt internally debating what to do. Looking at him, he most likely could have gotten free already, probably could have hurt you if he wanted. But he hasn't. He hasn't even tried to struggle yet.

"Alright. I'm a dangerous man who got.. caught up in an unsavory deal with an equally dangerous man. We had a disagreement and I decided to take the long way home."

His tone was nothing short of bored, speaking as if this was a normal night. For him it probably was. "That doesn't explain how you ended up at my door though." you point out, head coming to rest on your hand.

"It was advised to me that I should find somewhere to "hide" for the time being, so I found my way up here and the rest you know."

Brows furrowing, you huff, "How did you even get in here? It's a private community, surely they would have seen a bloody man. And what do you mean by hide exactly?"

"So many questions." he adjusts himself slightly. "I have my ways, your security guards never even saw me don't worry," you grumble at his statement which he promptly ignores. "as for hiding.. I needed a place to stay. There's an empty apartment at the end that I was going to camp out in, but clearly I didn't get that far."

His words made sense. The apartment at the end of the hall had been vacant ever since you moved in a year and a half ago. Your floor was the tallest on the complex so it's not like anyone ever ventured up here on accident.

This man was telling you the truth, that much was sure. Mulling over his words, you sat up straight as you came to a realization. Oh, you were about to do something really fucking stupid.

"You said you needed to hide right?" your question made the stranger perk up slightly, well as much as his stoic ass could. "Why don't you hide here? With me."

The stranger raises a perfectly groomed eyebrow, I mean how much does he pay for that seriously. "You want me to stay here?" he asks incredulously. You don't even know yourself.

"W-well… yes?"

"Yes?"

Rolling your eyes, your arms gesture wildly. "Yes! Look, I don't know why but something is telling me to help you out."

His face scrunches up. "Yeah it disgusts me too." you shiver slightly.

He rolls his eyes, the most emotion you've seen from him honestly. "Now why would you do that? What are you getting out of this?"

Clearly your brain has worked overtime tonight because you have absolutely no idea why you said that. "Well.. you're like, rich right?" you see his eyes narrow and scramble.

"I just mean I can house you temporarily and, in exchange, you can help out around here! Maybe cook or clean a little? Sometimes I can't reach the top shelves because they're so far away."

Your rambling comes to an end when the stranger chuckles. "You want me to be your maid?"

"When you put it like that it sounds bad!" huffing, your legs unravel from their crossed position. "I'm just saying, if you need a place to stay you can stay here but you just have to help out a little!"

You were really trying to reason with some booktok mafia boss right now.

The stranger is quiet, thinking about your proposition. "You said you needed help and I'm offering, for whatever fucked up reason. I have a spare bedroom and some clothes you can borrow until we go shopping."

He heaves out a long, tired sigh. "Fine." your hands clap as he nods to his bindings. "Now, free me. I'd like to wash this blood off of me, this shirt was expensive."

Fear suddenly enters your body once more. The same thoughts from before cloud your mind, this was a stranger who admitted he was dangerous, admitted he does nefarious dealings.

"Getting cold feet kitten?"

He scoffs lightly. "I won't harm you now. If I wanted to do that I wouldn't have told you about myself." he really didn't tell you about himself but whatever.

"Look, sweetie, like you said, I need a place to stay for the time being and you have so graciously offered your home to me. I agree to your terms and I won't harm you, or let harm come to you."

A little stunned at his words, you decide fuck it. If being taken out by a hot mafia man was how you die then at least you know you've lived a full life.

Coming to a crouch in front of him, your fingers make quick work of freeing him from the binds you made. The stranger doesn't do anything, doesn't move, doesn't make any teasing remarks, hardly even breathes.

Your fingers graze against the exposed skin of this chest, pinky finger brushing against the firm lines of his abdomen. Repressing a shiver, you chance a glance up at him, red eyes already staring into you.

Your breath hitches quietly at the eye contact. It's like he was staring into your soul, reading you inside and out. Shaking your head, you refocus and finish your task, taking many steps back to put distance between you.

The stranger shrugs off the rope and rises, your gaze going up, up, up and up until finally he stands at his full height. So, not only was this man some mafia boss but he was tall, taller than you've ever seen before, and he was built.

"So, where can I wash up kitten?"

“You’re… actually upset,” you murmured hesitantly.

Sylus let out a sharp huff and clicked his tongue.

“I am not just upset,” he said darkly. “I am furious.”

That made you stop struggling. You stilled beneath him, the weight of his anger sinking in all at once.

“Why are you furious?” you asked, your voice smaller now.

Before he could answer, a swishing sound cut through the room, followed by a loud crash. Your head turned slowly to the right. Your bedside table had been completely wrecked, scattered across the floor in pieces, while Sylus’s tail flicked sharply behind him, the movement agitated and restless.

You fell quiet. This was not like Sylus at all. You had never seen him like this before. For the first time, a ripple of guilt went through you. You forced yourself to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Sylus exhaled sharply and dropped his head onto your shoulder. For a moment, he said nothing.

Then, in a low, strained voice, he muttered, “I just don’t understand.”

His words were quieter now, but somehow that made them hit harder.

“When we started dating, you told me that just being with me gave you more thrill than anything else in your life ever had.” He drew in a breath, clearly trying to keep his temper under control. “And now you are booking every extreme sport you can find. Ziplining. Wave surfing. Anything you can get your hands on.”

His fingers flexed against your wrists.

“And I know for a fact that you were never interested in any of that.”

You swallowed.

“Your ideal evening is being curled up in an armchair with your books,” he continued, voice roughening with every word, “or that stupid game of yours.”

There was the faintest edge of disdain in his tone when he said it, but beneath it you could hear something far worse than irritation.

Fear.

“And now you’re doing all of that.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard. “And I just found out you booked base jumping. Base jumping, sweetie. From the tallest building in N109, no less.”

He closed his eyes for a second, as though even saying it out loud hurt.

“If you are doing all of this because you think you need to match me, because you think I want you to be more reckless, more daring, more like me… then stop.”

His voice broke just slightly at the end.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me. You don’t have to force yourself into things you hate just because I enjoy adrenaline. I am perfectly fine with quiet evenings with you. I am perfectly fine with books, and games, and doing absolutely nothing if it means you stay with me and look at me like I’m enough.”

His hold on your wrists loosened a little, though he still did not let go completely.

“Even if,” he admitted in a quieter voice, “a part of me is undeniably pleased that we have been doing all these extreme things together.”

You blinked. That little confession nearly made your chest ache.

He had been angry, yes, but underneath it all he had been terrified.

Terrified that you were pushing yourself too far.

Terrified that you were changing yourself for him.

Terrified that someday you would realize you had become someone you did not recognize just to stay at his side.

Your heart twisted painfully. You tugged gently at your wrists, silently asking him to let you go.

After a heavy pause, Sylus relented and released your right wrist first, then the other.You immediately reached up and touched his face, your fingers brushing the scales still flickering there. He was still partially shifted, his control frayed just enough to make the dragon beneath his skin show through. You slipped your hand to the back of his head and threaded your fingers through his hair, gently grounding him.

“I’m sorry,” you said again, quieter this time, and much more sincerely. “I didn’t want to worry you so much.”

Sylus stayed still, leaning into the touch despite himself.

“It’s just… you know I’m a scaredy cat,” you admitted with a weak, shaky smile. “Thrills and I are basically opposites. I’ve always liked the idea of trying all of that, but I’ve always been scared of getting hurt.”

Your fingers stroked slowly through his hair.

“But now I have you.”

His eyes lifted to yours.

“And I know you won’t let anything happen to me. So I guess I… got too excited.”

Sylus let out a long breath, his shoulders easing by a fraction. You could feel the tension in him start to unwind, little by little, as your hand kept moving through his hair.

“I wasn’t trying to change myself for you,” you said softly. “I just thought… maybe, since I had you with me, I could finally try the things I was too scared to do before.”

You hesitated, then added in a smaller voice, “I thought it would be fun if I got to be reckless for once.”

Sylus looked at you for a long moment. Then his forehead lowered until it rested lightly against your shoulder, the last of his anger bleeding away with a shaky exhale.

“You could have just told me that,” he muttered.

“I know.”

One hand settled at your waist, holding you there with less force now and more warmth.

“I don’t need you to chase danger,” he said more quietly. “I just need you to be honest with me.”

Your chest tightened.

“I will be,” you promised.

Then, in the smallest, most vulnerable voice you had heard from him yet, he added, “You scared me.”

That did it. Your expression softened completely.You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss to the side of his face.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m really sorry.”

Sylus closed his eyes for a moment and let himself lean into you. This time, when his tail moved, it curled around your leg instead of smashing furniture. You kissed his temple again and smiled softly.

The tension in him finally broke. Not all at once, but enough that you could feel it in the way his shoulders sank, the way his hand at your waist eased, the way the last of the dragon scales faded from his face. He looked at you for a long moment, still worried, but no longer furious. Then he sighed and pulled you closer.

“Good,” he muttered. “I already made plans for a quiet evening today.”

You blinked.

“What?”

His mouth curved faintly.

“I was planning to pretend I was still angry and keep you in bed all night.”

That pulled a laugh out of you at last.

Typical Sylus.

You leaned in and kissed him gently, smiling against his mouth.

“That’s not quiet evening at all.” He finally grinned. “I know.”