Left Behind || Cyrus / Jupiter
She acted as though there was nothing wrong, as though he was attached to her. She looked at him with that affection, and it made his stomach turn – his mouth go dry. How could she think that, when she should know how he was – when she took pride in seeing a moment of disgusting weakness? And there she went, speaking, speaking like she knew so much. He looked in her direction out of necessity for a degree of politeness, but he looked past her, through her. He did not see those painted lips nor did he see the color of her hair – he saw only the wall, the door he would make her exit very, very soon.
Not soon enough.
Jupiter’s words kept going, never seemed to end. Somewhere along the line, the Galactic Boss had stopped really listening and ended up only hearing the sound of her voice, with each new syllable spoken sending another wave of…something through him. Until he had had enough of it, could listen to her no longer and spoke up against her in a tone much harsher than he had intended.
“That’s enough talking, Jupiter. Sit down.”
It was only now that she realized how fearsome his anger and distaste was. Her eyes widened slightly, her motions stiffer now as she moved to sit down in the chair as though she were waiting for the interrogator to begin. But now that he had her sitting down, breath held in her chest as she waited for his judgment, what could be said that would not make him appear to be completely out of control of himself? Tucking his arms behind his back he began to pace about his desk, brows furrowed and eyes shadowed.
Time went on, a steady march, an endless stretch of silence before he finally turned about and faced her again, this time looking into her eyes, taking measure of the surprise. The hurt. Where did she think she was justified in bearing such a look towards him? She had done more to him in one night than he could possibly do to her in a lifetime…!
Cyrus again battled within himself to reduce the tide and swell of ugly emotion, of the pieces of humanity he had long since declared gone from his life. Still, there were traces of harshness in his tone when he spoke to her now, his lips pulled deeply into a scowl of proportions unseen on his expression before now. “I wish to speak to you about that night.”
The thought of it turned his stomach with a pleasure that he did not want, with a subsequent fury that was a sign of weakness. He wanted this over. He wanted to not look at her anymore, he wanted to not feel this anymore, to return to his stony exterior, to be solid within himself once more.
“…And to make it clear that there is nothing of tenderness, nothing of value between us.”
The only answer he received from the woman sitting in the chair was silence, an uncomfortable shifting, an aversion of her eyes from his cold and angry stones. The fury, the ugly, pitiful fury building within his stomach boiled over like water on the stove, and he curled his hands into tight fists. Taking one step towards her - and his desk by extension - stiff, aggressive.
“Answer me.” His tone dropped to one of a commander, one of demand. “This is a conversation not a man talking in the mirror. It takes two people. What have you to say?”
Cyrus paced. He paced and he paced and he paced. Every step was heavy against the tiled floor, every turn was rushed. He was more than angry--he was furious. The Commander could do no more than watch silently, waiting for him to cease. He had cut her off, had wished her to quit speaking! Had a mere status report warranted such aggression? Certainly it did not, but Cyrus was a man with deformed emotions--it was far too easy for him to lose control when he was like this. So what caused this change...?
At last the Galactic Boss halted in his march. His hands gripped the excess fabric around his wrists in earnest; a sign of warring with himself indeed. Jupiter's eyes flicked up to Cyrus' face. Surely he would break the silence. Surely he would speak the words and tell her what was ailing him. He turned to face her, every movement stiff, as if he was forcing himself to continue.
When his eyes met hers she knew. Those impassive, sky blue eyes were familiar no more. With one look all the hatred from his voice transferred into her soul--she was the culprit, she was the foul beast against his ugly ire. The Commander met his gaze, but she could not mask her surprise. What had she done? Cyrus' brows twitched as if he had not been expecting her reaction.
And as he glowered at her, Jupiter could see past his fury the struggle he held within himself. His shoulders rose and fall with his ragged breathing, but no noise escaped his lips. There was no need for words--she knew him too well. Such emotion she was sure he'd never felt before, as she was sure he was struggling to rein them in.
But Cyrus opened his mouth to speak, and what came next would not be forgotten. "I wish to speak to you about that night." His words were slow, harsh, his face contorted in a scowl unlike anything she'd seen him express before. Jupiter's heart skipped a beat. Two. He moved his head slightly, as if to get a better view of... not her.
His gaze slid past her, through her. It was anywhere but with hers. The Commander did not know if she craved his eye contact or if she preferred it this way. She re-crossed her legs, her toes touching the gift in the process; Jupiter refrained from shuddering. After an agonizing amount of seconds, his attention returned to her. "To make it clear that there is nothing of tenderness, nothing of value between us." The finality in such a simple sentence was too much for her to bear.
Her heart plummeted in a way that she had not felt since her childhood. Ultimately crushed beyond all recognition, it was with agonizing heartache that she realized she had erred. Jupiter looked at her hands. To have thought that she--with Cyrus--was a thing that she could have hoped to dream. Her chest tightened, but she could not bear his wrath if she moved to clasp it. She held back the sob that threatened to escape her lips. Should she show how his words hurt her, he'd--
"Answer me."
Jupiter nearly jumped out of her skin. Swallowing hard and masking her distress as well as she could, the Commander slowly regained eye contact with her boss. He was as close to her as the desk between them would allow, his hands clenched tightly by his sides and fury radiating off of him in waves. In his eyes she saw the storm that lay within--the storm she had once tried to help him manage.
"This is a conversation, not a man talking in the mirror," Cyrus snarled. He looked down upon her as if she were an ant, where he would love nothing more than to squash her like the insect she was. "It takes two people. What have you to say?"
The Commander was trapped like a rodent between the paws of her Skuntank. He expected--demanded--that she answer. Jupiter averted her eyes again, struggling for a response. There was nothing she could say to him that would please him, nothing she could do to earn the trust she thought she'd had. There was nothing between them, and that night, their date...
...it was not what it had felt like. His opening up to her was nothing. It meant nothing. The sea allowed his soul to flow through his lips, and the knowledge she gained of his past was a treasure not meant for her. It was a secret well kept, and a secret that should have never made its way to her ears.
...and their kiss...
...it was but an allusion, a moment of his weakness, of her taking advantage of his open heart. The Commander swallowed, feeling the heat of his glare on her as she stared at her clenched hands, at the box that lay in reach of her boots. If she did not speak now, the unthinkable would happen.
She knew who he was entirely, but that was a lie.
Cyrus was unpredictable. There was nothing to know that he did not wish others to know.
After what seemed like a century, Jupiter finally allowed herself to speak, raising her head to meet his eyes and sitting up as straight as she could. "I see now that I have erred," she stated coolly. Each syllable was torture, but she could not let that show. She was adept at many things, but nothing could have prepared her for this. "That night, I was under the impression that you..."
It was here where her words faltered. He denied any and all of their actions, and she did not want to agree. To agree would be to pretend that there was nothing between them--something that was, wholeheartedly, a lie. But she had to finish. She had to utter the words that would effectively rip her heart in two.
"You are correct, Cy--Master Cyrus. There is nothing between us. I take full responsibility for my actions if you wish to punish me."









