The way he spoke was clipped, efficient, and precise.
“Report. Time. Deadline.”
Three words, one tone. His voice always carried that quiet authority. People listened, obeyed, and left.
He didn’t talk, he instructed. No warmth, no teasing, just silence after every statement.
When someone once asked if he ever got lonely, he said flatly, “Loneliness is a distraction.”
He didn’t believe in softness, it made people vulnerable, and Sylus never allowed that.
His home was pure symmetry — clean, sharp, calculated.
Every book aligned, every pen placed exactly parallel. He’d walk through his apartment like a ghost, not even the sound of footsteps echoed long.
His only interaction with the world outside? Work calls and online deliveries.
The house looked like a photograph beautiful, but lifeless.
He spoke little, and only when necessary.
His replies were always measured.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“That’s irrelevant.”
The kind of tone that made people hesitate before speaking to him again. He wasn’t rude — just distant. The kind of distant that built walls without meaning to.
He didn’t joke.
Sarcasm? Yes. Humor? No.
Someone once made a joke during a meeting, and Sylus just blinked and said, “Are you done wasting my time?”
He wasn’t cruel — he just didn’t understand why people laughed when the world was so… fragile.
His nights were long and cold.
He’d sit by the large window, city lights reflecting in his eyes, a glass of whiskey untouched beside him.
The kind of man who looked like he was waiting for something though he’d never admit it.
He didn’t believe in comfort.
The couch was leather, the bed firm, the lighting white and sterile. He told himself, “Comfort slows progress.”
But deep down, he didn’t know what comfort even felt like.
He disliked interruptions.
If someone texted him during work, he ignored it. Calls? Straight to voicemail.
He once said, “The only time I want someone to call is if something’s on fire.”
He never used nicknames.
If he addressed anyone, it was by name or sometimes, not at all.
“Good work, Daniels.”
“Close the door.”
“Leave the file.”
He didn’t believe in names with affection. They created attachment, and Sylus didn’t do attachment.
He moved through life like a shadow.
Efficient, unseen, untouchable. The kind of man people admired from afar but feared to approach.
No one knew what his favorite anything was, because he didn’t have one.
He didn’t rest.
He’d stay awake until the sky turned gray, not because of insomnia but because he didn’t see the point of closing his eyes.
“Sleep is overrated,”
He’d mutter, staring at reports instead of stars.
He never asked, “How was your day?”
He didn’t know how to. Connection felt… foreign.
If someone tried small talk, he’d cut it short with,
“Let’s stay on topic.”
His world was grayscale.
No laughter, no sound of footsteps rushing to greet him, no warmth in the air.
He lived in a museum of his own making — perfect, empty, and echoing.
He didn’t believe in love.
“Love is an illusion,” he once said flatly to a colleague. “A chemical manipulation for dependency.”
He didn’t like being touched.
A hand on his shoulder made him stiffen. Hugs? Foreign.
He convinced himself it was better that way.
He existed, not lived.
And for a man who had everything — intelligence, wealth, control but he had no one.
No one to say good morning.
No one to say goodnight.
No one to tell him that maybe, just maybe, life could be softer.
Sylus After His Sweetie
His tone changed first.
Gone was the cold precision — replaced by teasing drawls and quiet chuckles.
“Morning, sweetie,”
Became his favorite phrase, the one he said with that low, lazy voice that made your heart melt.
When you teased him, he’d smirk and say, “Careful, sweetheart. You’re getting brave.”
His once-silent home now had sound.
The faint hum of music, your laughter from the kitchen, his voice asking,
"Did you steal my hoodie again"
It wasn’t an empty echo anymore — it was alive.
His workspace became shared space.
Your coffee cup beside his files, your sticky notes on his monitor: “Eat lunch, genius.”
He’d roll his eyes but never move them.
“You’re impossible,” He’d mumbles smiling.
He started to laugh.
Really laugh. That kind of quiet, surprised laugh he’d try to hide behind a hand.
You’d catch him and grin, “You’re laughing, Sylus.”
And he’d reply, “Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.”
He learned warmth... and color.
You brought soft blankets, scented candles, and fairy lights. He protested at first:
“This place isn’t a dorm room.”
“It’s cozy, Sylus.”
…Now he lights the candles himself when you’re not home.
He started eating real food again.
Cooking with you meant burnt pancakes, laughter, and you standing on tiptoe to wipe sauce off his jaw.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he’d tease, “you’re distracting the chef.”
He fell in love with your chaos.
Your books on the coffee table, your socks mismatched, your humming in the shower, everything he once would’ve called mess now felt like home.
He became protective — but gentle.
Not the cold, controlling kind. The kind where he’d tuck your hair behind your ear and say,
“Text me when you get there, alright?”
Or pull you close in a crowd and whisper, “Stay near me, sweetie.”
He learned to rest.
You’d find him asleep on the couch with you in his arms, both wrapped in a blanket, his usual tension gone.
If you moved, he’d mumble half-asleep, “Don’t go yet.”
He began to talk about feelings awkwardly, but sincerely.
“You make things… quieter,” he once said, struggling to find the words.
You smiled, “You mean peaceful?”
“Yeah. That.”
He started marking time differently.
He never said it out loud, but his calendar did. He had reminders like “Her birthday,” “Anniversary,” “Pick up her favorite snacks.”
He teases more — but it’s laced with affection.
“Sweetie, if you keep looking at me like that, I’ll forget what I was doing.”
Or when you pout, “That’s not going to work on me.”
It always works on him.
He found his favorite sound.
Not music, not silence, but your laughter.
“You’re dangerous, you know that?” he’d murmur. “You make the world seem like it’s worth staying in.”
He learned softness.
Late-night cuddles. His fingers tracing lazy circles on your back. Quiet “I missed you”s that he never used to say.
“You’re everything I didn’t know I needed,”
He admitted once, barely above a whisper.
He started living.
Not surviving. Not existing. Living.
His world wasn’t black and white anymore. It was full of color, noise, warmth, and you.
“You ruined my peace,” he’d say, smirking.
You’d laugh, “You love it.”
“Yeah,” he’d whisper, kissing your forehead, “I do, sweetie. I really do.”
You enter your home, tiredness threatening to take over every fibre as you hear the soft click of the door shut behind. Scrunching your brows you let out a long sigh you had been holding in the entire day, the bag on your shoulders getting heavier with each step. Sylus doesn’t even need to look up from the book he’s reading across the living room, when all of a sudden you feel a swirl of black and red mist circling your shoulders, the crimson tendrils snaking around the straps of your bag and lifting the it off your back to set it down. Shutting your eyes at the immediate comfort you stand up straight, not realizing you had been slouching all this while.
“Long day at work, sweetie?” You hear the deep timbre of his voice call out to you from the living room.
No answer.
Each step punishes you as you walk towards your shared apartment, heading straight for the bar. You sigh under your breath, reaching for the bottle of whiskey, pouring yourself a glass before you hear the soft shut of a book from behind you.
“As much as I appreciate good alcohol, drinking after work isn’t the best habit, you know?” He speaks up now, hoping you’ll pay attention to him. Maybe call him out. Bite back with a snooty remark. He hopes.
No answer.
You take a sip of the honey colored drink, licking your lips as you taste the bitterness coat your tongue, already feeling the exhaustion of the day melt away. But it’s not enough. You shut your eyes once again. You know it's unhealthy, but the mental weight of your work has depleted all of your energy. You think the alcohol will numb your senses, the addictive feeling of the whiskey now coursing through your veins. In moments like this you crave peace, rejuvenation, and warmth. There’s too much noise around you, and you crave just a moment of silence, even if it is just for a second. You hope.
As you chase the thoughts of comfort, you take another sip of your whiskey and set the glass down, fingers curling on the bar table to gain some semblance of grounding. It's only then you hear soft footsteps stop right behind you, his large presence making himself known.
Sylus doesn't reach forward for you, he knows better than that. Instead, he waits for you to reach out to him on your terms. He knows you will. And you do.
Without missing a beat, you turn around and press your face to his large chest, hands balling to fists as you sniffle on his blood-colored robe. You feel the weight lifted off your back for a second, closing your eyes to inhale the welcoming scent of oud, and soap. The scent mixed with effects of the alcohol is now fully taking over your senses; your exhausting day slowly becoming a distant memory of a bad day that just happened.
He hears your sniffle even though it's muffled, immediately bringing his slender fingers to run them through your hair, the pads of his fingers massaging your head in slow, comforting circles. He sighs contentedly as he brings his face down to rest his chin on your head, immediately making room to put you in a more comfortable position.
He knows your job is taxing, some days more than the others. Like today. Fruitless attempts at asking you to join Onychinus have fallen on deaf ears but Sylus knows you treasure your job too much. Yet he persists, promising a future of never having to lift a finger at work. Regardless, he knows it’s at times like these that you need grounding the most, these moments of silence conveying more than any book ever could. But he craves the sound of your voice.
“Kitten…look at me.” He asks in a soft tone. “I won’t be able to help you in the way you need if you don’t talk to me.”
You muster whatever remaining energy you have to look up at him, glossy eyes searching his ruby ones to accept the care that only Sylus can provide you with.
“Bad day. Bad day at work…I’m tired, Sylus. So fucking tired.” You croak out.
He hums, understanding the implication of your simple words, knowing how drained you must be if you can’t string a fully coherent sentence. That and the alcohol continuing to numb your senses. He looks at you like you’re the most fragile thing in the world, bringing his other hand to your cheek, thumb brushing away the tear that's threatening to spill out. The simple action makes your heart swell, letting out a meek sigh that makes you melt into his touch.
You nuzzle your face further into his broad chest, feeling his warm, soft skin make contact with your cheek as you continue to ground yourself. Reminding yourself that it’s just a bad day, not a bad life. Sylus is always there for you, he breathes like each inhale is a prayer to your presence. And he’d do everything and anything in his power to make you feel relieved.
“I’m going to carry you to the couch. Is that okay?”
You nod into his chest, allowing yourself to be taken care of by Sylus. You’re too tired to think about anything. He carries you with ease, bending down to scoop you with his large hand around your waist until you find yourself wrapping your arms around his neck, face nuzzling into the crook of his neck like a kitten. Your legs dangle as he carries you towards the couch, setting you down with so much care like you were fine china.
But you’re reluctant to leave him just yet. Fearing that if you do, the tiredness will creep its way back in.
“Don’t go…stay. Please?” Your voice cracks as you look up at Sylus, reaching up to place a needy peck on his cheek.
His rich man chuckle reverberates from his chest, so much so that you can hear the vibrations while you’re still clung to him like a koala. How can he let go of his beloved kitten in such a vulnerable position? His heart swells as he turns his cheek to kiss your forehead.
“I’m not letting go. Not now. Not ever.”
With that, he turns to sit down on the couch with you on his lap, your face still buried in his chest. You lay there for a few minutes, eyes closed while the only sound in the living room is of his labored breathing and his heartbeat, with each of his heartbeats fully grounding you second by second. The alcohol has eased your nerves completely, and the comfort you needed has eased your sore limbs. Your head feels lighter, your heart content. Sylus doesn’t say anything yet, but he knows you’re feeling better already.
“Thank you, my love.” You finally say.
“For what?”
“For just…being there. For being you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“Always, sweetie.”
A.N: Thank you for reading my first ever drabble of a fic! I hope you like it!
Why should you feel selfish when you have the right to ask -- no, demand for more?
Now playing: a girl like me - flowerovlove
↺͏͏ ° < ll >> ⋮≡
Word Count: 3.1k
Author's Note: There WILL be a part 2! Stay tuned. and for my omega beta reader, @noxellaa
Part 1 (you are here) / Part 2/Part 3
Desc: zayne x f!reader, mentions of zayne x mc, sylus cameo!, mentions of sylus x reader, hurt/ eventual comfort, reader feeling neglected by zayne, zayne lowkey a little horrible..
Another late night, another plate of food gone cold. You sighed as you dumped yet another meal into the bin, knowing that your boyfriend wouldn’t be eating it when he came home. After all, he had been working an insane amount of overtime recently, and would often spend the night at the hospital. Something about MC’s heart condition acting up, and from what you knew, it was pretty serious. As much as your heart twisted in inexplicable jealousy, you bit your tongue and swallowed it all down like a bitter poison. She had a bloody protocore fused to her heart, for Astra’s sake.
You were putting away the plates when suddenly, your phone lit up. Zayne. “I won’t be coming home tonight. MC isn’t doing too well.” The message read. Short and simple, as straightforward as he usually was. However, these words still managed to pierce through your heart, leaving frosty icicles in their wake. It felt like he was never home. And on the days he actually was, you would only manage to exchange a few words with him before he ate and went to bed. And whenever he was at the hospital, high chances he would be spotted with MC. You had tried to ignore the occasional whispers from some staff commenting on how cute Zayne and MC looked together, but it would secretly hurt your feelings deep down, no matter how deep you buried these comments in the back of your mind. You knew Zayne loved you, and you knew he loved you dearly, but you couldn’t help the way your gaze drifted enviously to images of him and MC together, no matter if it was recent or if it were photos from their childhood.
It’s selfish for me to think this way. Anyways, MC has been his friend since he was a kid, I’m being irrational. You knew that dating one of the best doctors in Linkon wouldn’t always be sunshine and rainbows. Zayne wasn’t just any doctor, he was quite literally THE doctor – entered medical school at 15, and graduated with his certification for cardiology about half a decade later. You knew that someone with his skills and proficiency would be busy almost 24/7, but you couldn’t help but feel a little neglected. You were his girlfriend after all, shouldn’t he be paying some attention to you too? You had fallen for the way he was a quiet lover, how he would notice the smallest things about you – your unconscious habits, which foods you liked, which foods you disliked, your hobbies and interests. The way he would sit with you to eat lunch when you were admitted to the hospital, even though he had just finished a gruelling and tiring surgery. The way he would drop a few sweets into your hands before you left his office. “If you feel fatigued throughout the day, a small amount of sugar can help with spiking your blood glucose levels for a short period of time.”
The following few days merged together into a blur of time. Your routine was the same: Wake up to an empty bed, go to work, come back, and go to sleep alone. You tried to visit the hospital a few times, even waking up earlier to prepare a lunch box for Zayne, planning to deliver it around lunch. One of the days, you were successful in giving him the meal, but you only saw him for a fleeting moment when he thanked you with a kiss on the cheek and hurried off to Astra knows where. The kiss made your heart flutter, but you didn’t have time to say or do anything else before his back was already turned to you. You tried to chase after him, but stopped in your tracks after he turned the corner, only to be greeted by MC linking arms with him and skipping down the hallway while dragging him along. Sigh. Whatever, it’s nothing. You thought.
Feeling defeated, you decided to go to one of the more secluded areas of the hospital grounds to eat your lunch. Nevertheless, your spirits were lifted after a stray cat came near where you were seated and purred affectionately. How cute!
Your phone displays ‘2.09am’ when you finally hear the front door open with a creak, and leather shoes hitting the ground. “Zayne.” You called out gently, as if he was going to slip through your fingers if your voice was too stern. That was certainly what it felt like. “Yes, my love?” He responded, hanging his jacket by the door. The words felt like they were stuck in your throat before you spoke. “We need to talk.”
It didn’t go as bad as you expected. You had been prepared for a full-blown argument, coupled with furious accusation and blames, maybe one or two tears, but none of that happened. You conveyed your feelings clearly – you told Zayne that you felt slightly neglected, and that you would like him to spend more time with you when he wasn’t caught up in work. He acknowledged your frustration. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realise I was making you feel like that. I’ll try my best to clear my schedule.” He said. “Speaking about spending time with you, your birthday is coming up soon, correct? I promise I’ll have dinner with you that day, okay?” Zayne holds out his pinky to you, and you wrap your pinky around his with a gleeful smile. You could feel your heart rate picking up at the tender contact before you spoke. “Thank you, Zayne.”
You were glad you spoke to him that day. You had managed to clear up how you felt, and you felt relieved. “I’m glad I chose such an understanding man to love.” You sighed longingly.
The following few days, you ardently anticipated your birthday, excited to finally get some time alone with your boyfriend. You had gotten your most precious outfit washed, dried and ironed. It was in your favourite colour, and your favourite style. However, the material was expensive, so you only wore it on special occasions, afraid the fabric might get snagged on something or acquire a stain. You spent the first half of the day hanging out with your friends from your job, going around Linkon, window shopping and just having a blast overall. And you may or may not have splurged on a few accessories to go with your outfit… you cursed your friends for being enablers as you looked at the charges on your card. Of course, it wasn’t that bad, as it was only a few accessories, but you felt like an over-consumer with the way you would only be wearing them for tonight and probably never after your birthday due to your job as a hunter. “You could always donate them to me, you know!” Tara exclaimed as you rolled your eyes and shoved her teasingly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tara.” Simone said. But those few hundred dollars missing from your bank account was all worth it in the end! (totally…)
In your home, you were styling yourself just a few hours before your scheduled dinner, with Tara and Simone by your side as your self-proclaimed ‘advisors’. “Ooh, that pin would go great with your shoes!” Tara chattered. She was energetically bobbing all over the place, rummaging through the accessories that you had bought. Simone, on the other hand, was quieter, and nodded or shook her head based on how much she agreed with Tara’s suggestions. By 5p.m, your friends were swooning over your look, showering you with compliments. “You look so good! I’m head over heels.” Tara dramatically said, placing a hand over her heart and sighing dreamily. Simone laughed. “Agreed. You do look stunning, birthday girl.” She said with a smile. You smiled back at the both of them, and once they hung out at your house for a little longer, they scurried off, not wanting to disturb your final preparations for the date – not before giving you the presents they had prepared for you. Tara, a life-sized plushie of your favourite animal, and Simone, a special cloth to clean your hunter weapon with.
With a pep in your step, you headed to the restaurant that Zayne had booked for the both of you. He hadn’t reached yet, but you were 15 minutes early, so it was fine. You shot him a quick text to let him know that you were here already. It took a few minutes, but your message eventually had a ‘read’ sign at the bottom, and the three dots that indicated Zayne was typing appeared not long after. Alright. Be there soon. Short and concise, as usual.
You occupied yourself by reading the menu and ordering some appetisers that both you and your boyfriend would like. You were delighted to see some of your favourite foods on the menu. How sweet of Zayne to pick a place with all the foods I like to eat. You thought.
5 minutes passed, and another 5, and another 5. And before you knew it, half an hour had passed. Now, you weren’t the one that was 15 minutes early – Zayne was the one that was 15 minutes late. Trying to pay it no mind, you brushed it off as him finishing up some final documents or just being stuck in a traffic jam on the way to the restaurant. But after another 30 minutes, you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Usually, he would send you a text if he was going to be late, no? You tried to text him, but was met with no response. Not even a ‘read’, or a simple 2 or 3 worded answer. Maybe his notifications were just silent? Frustrated at the pitiful stares you were getting from staff and customers alike, you huffed and decided to just scroll social media instead. That’s when you saw it.
A post from MC, just 5 minutes ago. In the photo, she was in Zayne’s office, happily taking a selfie with him, holding up a peace sign, while a small grin could be seen on his face. The photo had been edited, with a few stickers around both their faces and their surroundings. It was captioned, “The best doctor in Linkon! Thanks for working overtime for me~”
At first, the post itself pissed you off – you were sitting here in a restaurant alone and getting pitied by onlookers, with the food getting cold on your table,and your boyfriend had the gall to be with another woman? On your birthday, no less. Then, you looked harder, closer at the image. And then you felt downright furious. In the photo, Zayne’s phone could be spotted on his desk, lighting up with notifications from your messages. You gripped your phone harder, feeling the buttons dig into your skin. Overcome by fury and gloom, you couldn’t stop the stray tears that managed to escape your eyes. I shouldn’t be feeling like this. Trying to reason with yourself, you tried to convince yourself that MC needed that extra care, and that it was just a small matter. But was it really? You had every right to feel angry. Your own boyfriend stood you up! On your birthday! You bit your lip, trying to muffle any sobs that were threatening to spill over your lips.
“Hello there, looks like you’re all alone. May I sit with you?” A silken smooth voice calls from above your lowered head. You look up to see a silver haired man with blood red eyes, dressed to the nines. A black leather jacket embroidered with red details, and matching black pants that made his legs look impossibly long. Wanting to save yourself from looking pitiful any longer, you quickly nodded and lowered your head again, not wanting him to see you in this state. You can feel his stare bore into your head, and he hesitantly speaks. “It’s okay, no need to hide your tears. What happened here? It’s impossible that a beauty like you was stood up.”
The stranger’s comment only fueled the tears in your eyes as you looked up at him. “How did you manage to guess exactly what happened? You’re observant.” You said with a humourless laugh. His gaze softened. “It wasn’t hard to guess. I’ve seen that look many times before.” You were reluctant to speak any more, and instead put your phone, which was still displaying MC’s post, down on the table with a bit more force than necessary. The stranger curiously glances at it, but his eyes quickly dart away from the phone. “I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. By the way, I never got your name.” He says.
“___” You reply curtly, now looking him straight in the eyes, trying to rub the tears from yours. “A beautiful name for a beautiful person.” The stranger replies without missing a beat. That got a genuine chuckle out of you, and you found yourself asking for his name as well. Sylus, he told you. What a nice name. Suits him. You thought to yourself. That brought you to the question of – what made him sit with you anyway? From what you could tell, there were still a few vacant tables in the establishment. Maybe you just looked so pitiful he felt compelled to sit with you. “You know, you have a really nice laugh. You shouldn’t let someone’s careless actions dampen your mood.” Sylus comments suddenly. You smile genuinely at him, and thanked him for the compliment.
The both of you talk for a little while, and you felt like conversation just flowed so easily with him, even though he was a stranger. You also eat the food that you had ordered beforehand, before you finally called it a day and called for the bill. But when it arrived, he snatched it from your hands in the politest way you could snatch something, and placed his card face down onto it. Surprised, you tried to replace it with your own card, but you were stopped by him. “Don’t worry, it’s on me this time. I’m glad to see you’re feeling better.” He says, grinning. “This time? So there’s going to be more of these meetings?” You tease. He chuckles before answering immediately, “Maybe. Who knows?”
It felt like the weight of the world was lifted off your shoulders after that meeting with Sylus. After exchanging contact information, he offered to drop you off at your house, but you politely declined, insisting that you could get home by yourself. He nodded, and drove off in that motorcycle of his. How cool. Your spirit was no longer dampened by being stood up as you walked into your shared home with Zayne, flopping down onto the couch. Although it was far from the ideal birthday, you were glad you got to spend valuable time with your dearest friends, and even potentially have made a new one. You took a quick shower before tucking yourself under the covers, watching whatever you wanted before bed. After a few minutes, the fatigue from spending most of the day outside caught up to you, and your eyes quickly closed shut as soon as you plugged in your phone and rolled on your side.
However, your beauty sleep was short-lived. You were abruptly awoken by the opening of the front door and hurried footsteps inside the house. Irritated, you checked your phone. 11:39pm. Okay, it wasn’t an ungodly hour, but you were still irked at being so suddenly awoken. When your bedroom door opens, you are greeted by your boyfriend (did you even want to call him that anymore?) standing in the doorway, breathing unevenly and his tie half-loosened. “Well, are you going to come in?” You asked sarcastically.
When his ragged breathing evened out, he started his apology speech. “I’m so sorry about forgetting our appointment, I truly am. I- MC just needed me at that moment, I couldn’t just-” Zayne stuttered out, his usually composed demeanor slowly crumbling to dirt. You let him ramble about MC’s needs being urgent and how your date just slipped his mind before cutting him off. “Zayne, I can see that you’re apologetic. But you clearly can’t make enough time for me, which is apparent from today, and the numerous other times you’ve cancelled on me at the last minute or just stood me up completely.” You begin. As if he could sense what was coming next, Zayne hurriedly scrambled for something to say.
“Zayne, I think we should break up.” You continued, not letting him get a single word in.
He seemed to understand that you wanted to speak, and he slowly backed off. “This isn’t the first time I’ve felt neglected by you, Zayne. I’ve tried to communicate this to you multiple times, and it felt like this time, something would finally change. I thought that we would finally be able to spend a nice dinner together without you having to leave halfway or being diabolically late.” Pausing to try to articulate your words, you went on, “I understand that MC’s condition is fragile, and that you are her personal doctor. But…” This felt incredibly selfish to say, but if you didn’t tell Zayne, it would linger on your mind forever. “...I can’t help but feel a little envious of the way the both of you interact. Your interactions with her seem so much more natural, and you get to spend more time with her on a regular basis. It’s…bad for my heart, to put it simply.” You laughed, feeling the slightest bit stupid. It seemed so trivial, now that you spoke about it.
“You know I love you…” Zayne said, his voice trailing off. “I know you do, Zayne. But these words don’t mean a whole lot when your actions keep contradicting them. I know you love me, but…I don’t think it's the best course of action for us to remain together. Look at you, all dishevelled, Zayne. I hate to see you like this.” You tell him softly, eyes scanning over his distraught expression. His face seems to fall as he just accepts the reality of it all. He nods slowly, like he was in disbelief. “I… I respect your decision, ___. I’ll sleep on the couch tonight, then. Good night.”
I can't stop imagining the LADS boys with kids. Mainly because of the "Plushies I gave her; plushies she gave me" trend. I CAN'T, I CANNOT, I DO NOT HAVE THE ABILITY TO CAN XD
Enjoy!
-Seven
|| Masterlist ||
Rafayel ❖· ────── · ·
Rafayel is as much of a child as he is a man
I think that Rafayel would have a son.
Right now, the two of you aren’t planning for another child, but Rafayel wouldn’t say no XD
Rafayel would be super fun and silly with your son
He would be overly dramatic when your son presents a new drawing of craft to him
“Here, papa,” Your son presents a painting of the ocean to Rafayel, “I tried the oil paints this time.”
With a hand at his chest, Rafayel does a big gasp, “What a masterpiece!”
Your son giggles
“I should present this at my next art exhibit!”
Please, as much as he exaggerates his reactions, he would have those painting and trinkets buried with him - that’s how much he loves your son
I imagine that one day as you’re cooking, they’re in the living room and Rafayel has your son’s hand enveloped in his own, guiding him as he paints.
It reminds you of that time in his studio in Greensprings after you promised to see the lanterns together
“What should we add next, kiddo?”
“Hmmm.” Your son taps the paintbrush on his chin, “What about some birds?”
“Heh, like the ones that stole your chips the other day?”
“It wasn’t the birds! It was you, papa!” he jabs the paintbrush at Rafayel’s chest
Rafayel lifts his hands up in surrender, “What do you mean? I’m innocent.” He chuckles as your son pouts at him
More often than not, the two of them are covered in paint, or whatever art supply they used. It ends up to be a whole load of washing for you >:(
Your son definitely loves the ocean just as much as his father.
When you were pregnant with him, he would kick in your belly whenever you were swimming or submerged in water.
As a toddler, he would kick his legs and squeal every time the waves washed over him
Rafayel would have his hands under your son’s arms, stabilising him so that the waves wouldn’t push him over
Now at six years old, he’s diving under, collecting shells and chasing fish,“Momma, look at this shell.” He lifts his small palm carrying a pink shell, his pearly whites beaming up at you as he smiled, “You can have it, momma, orrrrr, maybe I can make it into a paint with papa later.”
It’s late afternoon and your son is knocked out on the couch from spending the entire morning at the beach.
You and Rafayel get started on dinner
Rafayel comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Thank you.” He presses a kiss to your shoulder.
“Huh?” You pinch your brows and chuckle a little as he nuzzles your neck, “What for?”
He takes a deep breath, “I don’t know, just… For our son, for being my wife, I’m just happy, I guess.”
You chuckle lightly, “I’m happy too.” You turn around and pinch his cheek, “A little jealous that he takes after you so much, but happy.” you offer a bright smile.
Before Rafayel can lean in, his arms are jerked away from your waist
Your son is pulling at Rafayel’s arms, “No, papa! Momma is mine!” He’s leaning all the way back, using his entire weight as leverage to pry Rafayel’s body from yours, “Go away, papa!”
Rafayel scoffs, “Yours?” He raises an eyebrow, “Tsk.” He clicks his tongue and hauls your son over his shoulder, Your momma was mine first, you jellyfish!”
Rafayel's fingers jab at your son's sides, and the sound of your son’s laughter fills the kitchen “Hahaha, pa—haha-papa! Stop!” He’s got tears in his eyes but the biggest smile on his face.
“Nope!” Rafayel pops the ‘p’ and continues to tickle him, “I gotta show you who’s the big fish in this tank, pipsqueak.”
You shake your head and put an hand at your hip, the other one pointing the spatula at them, “Alright, enough, or both of you aren’t getting dinner.”
Sylus ❖· ────── · ·
Sylus has a daughter, a son, and another on the way!
He’d spoil them ROTTENNNNNN. I mean, he buys you dresses, gives you his black card to spend as much as you want, what more would he do for your children? Or rather, what wouldn’t he do for them?
He would definitely be the type to let your children learn how to do things on their own, even if they are clearly struggling. He lives by the ‘they’ll never learn if they don’t do it themselves.’ idea - he literally says "I prefer the cold and things that make me strong."
Although, he would yield after a little while when they’re clearly upset and wailing, but more often than not, with some gentle encouragement, he’d get them to figure out how to do it themselves - climbing thing, opening boxed, pulling out chairs, etc.
It gets a little troublesome since they become explorative - he often has to use his Evol to reign them back in. Although, the children squeal in delight when they’re lifted into the air and land in their father’s arms.
Mephisto is surprisingly gentle with your little ones, keeping his claws and beak out of range because it could hurt them, but also because they wouldn’t hesitate to grab it XD
Luke and Kieran are often on babysitting duty so that you and Sylus can go out - Honestly, this is why you have another baby on the way. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Sylus would totally hum to your belly, always off-tune, but he definitely would.
ANYWAY
Today, you’re out on an errand and your baby boy is absolutely crying to bits so Sylus and your daughter are trying their best to calm him down
Sylus has your daughter on his shoulders as he changes your son’s diaper. Your daughter has her hands in his hair as she makes silly faces down at her brother to try and distract him from crying.
By the time you come home, it’s quite late and you find that they are all sprawled out in the middle of the living room floor, toys scattered about and a kids show playing in the background.
Your son is splayed out on Sylus chest while your daughter is on her stomach, across Sylus’ stomach XD
You chuckle a lightly at their positioning
The lack of sleep must have finally caught up to Sylus, huh? You think
As you come closer you realise that your son is awake - he’s cooing with a fist in his mouth, drooling all over Sylus’ shoulder.
With a little difficulty, you kneel down onto the floor to slip your son out from Sylus’ arms. Slow and steady… The last few times you’ve tried, Sylus’ eyes would snap open, on high alert -because who would dare try to take his precious angels.
Anyways, you decided that Sylus probably needs the sleep, especially since you’re pregnant again, he’s been so on edge
You cradle your son in one arm, and with the other, you run your hand through Sylus’ hair - which he subconsciously leans into.
Then, you lean down to place a light kiss on your daughter’s cheek, although leaning down has become a challenge in itself with your growing belly.
With the support of a nearby armchair, you stand yourself up.
You make your way over to the cushioned rocking chair in the corner of the room, cradling your son to your chest to feed him.
Just as he finishes, your daughter’s slowly sits up from where she was laying. She rubs at her eyes and blinks sleepily - a vibrant red, like her father’s, peeking through.
She looks around the room and gasps in delight when her eyes land on you, “Mama!”
She takes a few steps to you and then stops midway to look back at her father. She hurriedly grabs the throw blanket from the armchair and throws it across her father, uncaring of whether it covered him properly or not.
“Hi, mama.” She greets you as she climbs to sit in your lap
“Hi, sweetie.” You gently caress her face, “How was your day?”
“Mmm…” She quirks her lips, “Well, little bubba was crying a lot, like, a lot, a lot.”
You chuckle as she spreads her arms all the way apart.
“But I missed you." She nuzzles into your shoulder, "Daddy did too, he kept looking at the clock.”
Hehe, ever the observant girl your daughter was.
“Aww, I missed you, and daddy, and bubba as well.” You press little pecks to her face and nuzzle your nose with hers to which she giggles. Like tinkling bells in the wind.
Zayne ❖· ────── · ·
I feel like Zayne would have a son and a daughter. Your son would be quite a few years older than her though
Some days, Zayne would take them to work, subtly showing them off to his colleagues
Greyson never misses the opportunity to pinch their cheeks and ruffle their hair, “They both look like a mini Dr. Zayne."
Zayne may have all those awards and trophies lining his office walls, but his pride and joy will always be his children
He may not outwardly express it, but he absolutely cherishes them - reading them bedtime stories, tucking them in with the lightest kiss upon their foreheads
I imagine your son would be very studious, having read most of the books occupying the shelves of Zayne’s office. He would be quite curious, exploring the hospital and asking the doctors all sorts of questions that they themselves do not even have the answers to.
He would be your little gentleman, learning from his father, pulling out chairs and opening doors.
Your daughter would probably be a little shy, always having a fist clenched on her daddy’s clothes or holding onto his hands, or rather his fingers.
Her big brother wouldn’t hesitate to get her whatever she wanted or take her wherever she wishes - your family’s little princess
As much of a workaholic Zayne is, and as much as he wants to provide for you and your little family, he would have no problems lessening his hours to spend time with you and the children
It doesn’t matter how tired he is from a long day of endless surgeries, he would just as eagerly play with them in the living room
“Here, Dad, have a turn.”
“What is it?” Zayne removes his coat and drapes it over the couch’s armrest.
“Uncle Greyson bought it for us.” Your son leads Zayne over to the living room table.
“Uncle Greyson, huh?”
Your son brushes over the comment and continues to explain the little toy, “You have to take these plastic organs and bacteria out without touching the edges or else it beeps and his nose flashes a red light.”
Ever the steady-handed surgeon, Zayne takes them all out without a problem.
“Daddy,” your daughter clutches at the fabric of Zayne’s dress shirt. “I want to try.”
Zayne beckons her over to stand in front of him where he can support her little hands holding the plastic forceps
On the off chance that you are not with them, Zayne would get them sweet treats on the way home
“It’ll be our little secret.” Zayne whispers, with a finger pressed to his lips
your son and daughter giggle in their seats and happily gobble up spoonfuls of the dessert
It isn’t long before they all start having toothaches and receive a scolding from you
On family vacations, you all end up in a cabin up in the mountains of Snowcrest (at the request of your sweet little angels)
Zayne is more than happy to teach them how to snowboard,
Much to your surprise, as your daughter grew older, you found that she was quite proficient in snowboarding
But there used to be times where Zayne made them little tiaras and crowns of ice and built little ice castle with them using his Evol
Xavier ❖· ────── · ·
Sleeps as much as your newborn son, if not more, and your eldest son has inherited his father’s incredible appetite.
When you’re not at home, Xavier nearly burns the house down trying to make food for them, so once your son was old enough, he opted to learn how to cook - having his father as an assistant because, you know… they need supervision or something XD
Xavier would definitely read them bed time stories
His voice is so soft and mellow, they would fall asleep so quickly
Not much of a surprise considering that Xavier falls asleep at the drop of a hat
But on days when they have nightmares, Xavier would use his Evol to create little bunnies and flowers that float around in their bedroom
and when sleep finally overtook them, he would tuck their blankets around them and whisper,
“Sweet dreams, my little starlight.”
Most days, in your lounge, your younger son would be crawling all over Xavier as he laid on the floor.
“Arghh, the monster’s got me.” he would jokingly say.
Your older son would then come in with a cardboard sword, gently tapping his little brother on the back to slay the monster
Xavier cradles the young one in his arms, “And the hero has saved the day once again!” He lifts the infant up into the air and receives a toothless smile.
“Just like you and mommy!” Your son beams down at Xavier, sword and shield still poised, “You keep us safe from all the wanderers, right? I wanna be just like you and mommy.”
Xavier just smiles - the kind that crinkles the corners of his eyes, “Well, we better start training, huh?” Xavier ruffles your son’s hair.
Although he may not be as well-off as Sylus, he definitely would do his best to spoil them, bringing them to amusement parks, buying them little star lamps for their bedrooms, taking them to the arcade and playing kitty cards with them.
One time, you all went on a holiday to this guest house in the forest. When you asked him how he knew about this place he replied with:
“I befriended the uncle that runs this guesthouse while I went fishing that one time.”
Xavier would take them hiking, showing your sons the most scenic views in the forest
when night time came, all four of you were laying down on a blanket, gazing at the stars
Today, he’s taken you to a cherry blossom park. He’s got your eldest son on his shoulders, and your little one in a baby carrier at his front.
Your eldest son is reaching up trying to grasp at the pink petals some of which fall onto your youngest’s head.
Xavier quickly lets go of your hand, which he was holding, to brush them out of your baby’s face. (he’s using the other one to stabilise your son’s leg over his shoulder)
Just as quickly, he grasps your hand once more.
You squeeze his hand lightly, “Let me take the carrier from you, Xavier.”
“No, it’s okay.” He quickly refuses, “I want to carry them both. It won’t be long before they’ll be too big to do so.”
AHHHHAAA, I'm finally finished with exams, so I'll be able to write more often. Yahooooo ~(˘▾˘~)
But brooooo, the Lads with KIDSSSSS I CAN DIE HAPPY
After all, your first and only forever quite literally went up in smoke.
He had been the only true constant in your life. More enduring than even your own memories. Your life as you knew it had started and ended with him.
Caleb had died, after all.
You didn't believe in forever.
He had returned. Changed, but alive. You were overjoyed—finally things could return to how they had been, how they should have been all along. The two of you, together, as promised.
He had been in Skyhaven this entire time... as you mourned him. Buried an empty coffin. And shattered. Your forever had been only miles away.
Caleb didn't die. He had left you.
You didn't believe in forever.
"Well, tell me what you think," the deep voice drawled. It wasn't new for Sylus to send you gifts (the extra display cabinet he had "thoughtfully" purchased for you was proof of that). But today he sounded more excited for your reaction than usual.
Confused, you stared down at the contents of the box. Admittedly, it was well-crafted. A regional specialty, perhaps? Useful, certainly.
"How should I put this," you began hesitantly, "it's surprisingly down-to-earth. I couldn't believe you were the sender at first."
"That... doesn't sound like a compliment. Are you saying it's not fancy enough?" His voice deflated.
Oh dear.
"I didn't mean it like that," you hastily amended, "I'm very touched since it's from you." Not a lie. Even if you had never appreciated the finer things as much as Sylus did, his desire to spoil you was touching. You knew he always took your tastes into account when buying you gifts, whether gemstones or weapons. This newest find, then, was probably acknowledgment of your gushing over the practicality of Tara's Christmas gift to you.
You lifted up the donabe pot from its nest of bubble wrap to examine it, trying to think of a more specific compliment.
"I assume you want me to get back to basics like eating healthier food instead of ordering takeout?" you mused.
A moment of silence. Then his confused voice on the other end of the line, "I... had no idea I was implying that. Actually, I don't think my gift has anything to do with what you just said." He continued with dawning realization, "Did you mistake my package for someone else's?"
Your hands froze in their analysis of the cookware. A hurried glance at the shipping label confirmed that he was, as usual, correct in his deductions.
"Sorry!" you could only hope your flushed embarrassment didn't carry over from your cheeks to your voice. "I confused it with the souvenirs from my colleague..."
"I figured as much," at least he didn't sound upset...
"Ignore what I said earlier?"
His chuckle tugged a smile onto your own lips and eased the tension that had crept into your shoulders. "Alright, but aren't you curious about what's in the box you still haven't opened?"
"Oh, right! I'll open it right now." You collected the smaller parcel from the hallway and carefully cut the packing tape to reveal its contents... another box. Wooden this time, dark and decorated simply with a crimson ribbon. No logo or label hinted at its now thoroughly mysterious contents, so you opened the lid.
"It's a bottle of red wine?" you questioned.
"Correct," he breathed, smile still apparent. "Should I give you some time to do a review?"
You blinked. There it was again, that anticipation in his voice. But why? You stared at the bottle in your hands, wishing you'd taken that sommelier elective course in college so you weren't so lost on what made this gift from your lovely and generous boyfriend special.
Is it not fancy enough? You could never question the fanciness of anything Sylus gifted you. It was Sylus. By virtue of being a gift from him, the bottle was likely worth a small fortune.
Hell, you'd begun to wonder if the unassuming donabe was secretly an ancient relic for a few seconds back there.
"If you want to hear what I have to say," you chose your words carefully, not wanting to dash his hopes.
"Never mind," he huffed. So much for that. "Just look at the date on the bottle."
"Let me see..." you trailed off as you properly read the label. "It's... it's the same age as me?"
"There's nothing special about the wine. But I thought the year made it meaningful."
You were speechless. Even if any words came to mind, the lump that had quickly appeared in your throat kept them from escaping. You imagined Sylus, perusing shelves as he hand-picked something new to try at your next dinner date. His beautiful hands trailing over bottles, face neutral as they all failed to meet his expectations. He picks up the one currently cradled in your hands and you can see the small smile appear, his eyes softening as he thought of... you.
He'd never been shy in expressing his adoration, his thoughtfulness. "I pictured you in this and knew it would suit you perfectly," he'd say as you slipped into the new gown he'd purchased for an auction. Of course, you would think to yourself, a dress this stunning would suit anyone. "They complement your eyes perfectly," he would purr as you modeled a new pair of earrings. And you would roll your eyes, calling him a smooth-talker. But now you wonder if it had always been like this. If he hadn't just been showering you in well-mannered praise. If each time he had purchased a priceless item, it was because he had seen it and been reminded of you.
"With you, I look forward to unconditional trust." And his actions have always proven this. Never once, after obtaining it, had Sylus taken your trust for granted. Why had you never taken his words at face value when he had only ever been honest with you? How could it have taken so long for you to see that his words, his smile, his gaze, had never been empty gestures? To accept the simple fact that he saw you in all of the lovely, priceless items he lavished you with?
Because you couldn't let yourself believe in forever?
"The moment I saw it I knew it was the one," his serious tone brought you back to reality. You couldn't breathe. Couldn't read the label anymore as tears began to pool in your eyes. Did he even know what he was saying? How it affected you? Made you feel like you were flying and falling all at once?
How he made you want to believe in forever?
"This is the first time I've seen a wine my age," you responded quietly. You were sure he could hear your voice trembling and coughed lightly to compose yourself. "I wonder what it tastes like?"
"You can... pour yourself a glass right now?" your heart suggested.
"No!" This was far too special to drink alone. He should be there with you. "I want to store it until..." Images flashed in your mind. Sylus in a white tux. Your hands clasped in his as he slowly slipped a beautiful band around your ring finger. His beautiful garnet eyes staring into your own, as he promised you forever.
He made you want to believe in forever.
"Oh I know!" When had your voice become so high-pitched? "I'll keep it until my 100th birthday. Then I'll share it with someone I care about."
"100 years old... you like to think about the future, huh?" he quipped. "All right, you've made your choice." A pause as you tried to compose yourself and think of a witty response. But he wasn't finished. "When the time comes," he continued, sounding unusually hesitant, "I hope I'll be able to try that vintage wine with you."
You didn't believe in forever. After all, forever had only ever betrayed you. Your memories, your childhood home, your dearest friend. Your life had taught you time and time again not to believe in forever.
Sylus made you so badly want to believe in just one.
You swallowed again around the lump in your throat. "I'm going to hold you to that, you know?"
A sharp breath, then a chuckle from the other end of the line. "It's a promise, then, Sweetie."
The tears fell freely now as you smiled.
If it was with Sylus, you would believe in this forever.
Notes: I've never written anything like this before (or really anything fictional for myself before haha). This phone call is one of my favorites though. If you read this far, thank you! Hope you enjoyed :)
TW: Angst(?) + fluff(?), mentions of death and afterlife, mentions of blood and violence.
Summary: A pacifist yearning for tranquility and a relentless conqueror, hardened by the cruelty he has endured, find themselves bound by an unlikely connection. People say love changes the heart, untangles its strings, and tends to its wounds. While the two of you may never fully see eye to eye, you will discover the paradise you seek within each other, mending each other's hearts along the way.
W.C: 1,507 words
“The cruelty in our hearts cannot be quelled. But as you grow, you will find man to be kinder.”
He could never understand you. That was the bitter truth the both of you were forced to swallow. The hands that cradled your face stank of the blood of thousands. It was a truth that applied to you both with haunting accuracy. Sylus did not know kindness—an element you possessed in abundance. And yet, despite your circumstances, you two had fallen for each other helplessly. When worlds collide, it is only natural for us to explore the lands that are unknown.
Emotions are impulsive creatures. When you met the relentless conqueror, you felt nothing but sympathy for him. You prayed that his heart could rid itself of the malice it bore, that he could turn over a new leaf and embrace a life of peace one day. You did not hate him. But you did not feel for him either. So why did your heart thump against your chest every time you looked at him?
Emotions are impulsive, and morals are fluid. You could never have expected to learn something from a heartless man. Sylus taught you that immense cruelty and a tender soul could coexist. He taught you that equilibrium exists, even in humans.
The first time you truly looked at him, you saw vulnerability, an odd sense of tenderness, and affection. And it stirred something in you. You felt warmth spreading across your body, to your cheeks, and eventually reaching the chambers of your heart. Your body stilled, blood coursing through your veins at an increased speed, and his eyes softened momentarily around you. But you couldn’t. You couldn’t feel this. You couldn’t be in love. This man single-handedly went against everything you believed in. He preached what you condemned and lived the way you feared. He was what you were afraid of becoming—the type of man you deemed pathetic and vindictive.
Then why? Why did you go quiet under his loving gaze? Why did you begin to see a side of him you wholeheartedly believed did not exist? Why did he start to feel... human?
You decided that the answer was love. Infatuation. But you knew that the two of you were doomed. How could people from two different worlds, both literally and metaphorically, ever touch? Well, one has to learn to compromise.
Sylus was aware of your pacifistic nature. The way you hesitated to raise the gun, the way you faltered to slay the wanderers, or the way you looked at him when he made decisions he believed were necessary for survival. He couldn't bear to see that look on your face, he had to admit. He couldn't handle how you silently pleaded with him to take another route, to make another choice. How you looked at him as if he was about to commit a monstrous act, though to him, he was merely keeping you both safe.
No matter how much he tried to convince himself it was the best choice, the guilt continued to gnaw at him. And the subtle hints you dropped about your discontent afterward did not help.
"There's always another way, Sylus," you'd say, your eyes empty and unreadable. If it were anyone else, he would have moved on. But it was you.
“Did you ever consider living a different life? Just... running away from all this and starting over?” you asked, twirling a tiny flower between your fingers. "I mean... don't you get tired?"
It didn’t take long before Sylus began to see the world through your lens. The small snippets of your true thoughts that you'd drop subtly into every conversation changed something in him. And now, the more he thought about it, the clearer it became to him—he didn’t mind any life, as long as you were in it.
Whether it be a simple, domestic lifestyle or a life led by danger and thrill, his only wish was to walk by your side every step of the way. The things he had to leave behind didn’t matter. Not more than a future with you. For a chance to be by your side eternally, he’d sacrifice anything. Whether it be himself or the world, he’d burn both to ashes, rip them to shreds over and over, even if the chance was slim. He would—for you.
But he knew.
Sylus knew it didn’t erase his past.
No amount of redemption could rewrite his fate.
“I want to create a haven. With you. A paradise where everyone is equal. Where war and violence don’t exist, where people can live without the fear of coming home to a massacre. I know it's naive. No need to tell me. But, still... if I could save even one soul, I'd be content."
Sylus had said before that he could make every wish come true. And yet, when you'd said this with your head cocked towards the sky, he could not help but feel powerless to fulfill your desire. His calloused hands had worn out from the tartness of blood. Seeds of destruction had been sown in his eyes, and an unfamiliar power that kills coursed through his veins.
How could he aid you in crafting a paradise with such a past?
"A haven..." he said softly. "That is a beautiful thought. But, sweetie, do you really think someone like me can stand by your side and help you create that place?" Sylus slipped his fingers into the valley between yours, gently gripping your hand and bringing it to his chest. "These hands break whatever they hold."
"Then how am I still here?"
A thoughtful hum escaped his lips. The truth was, it was love. An admiration he held only for an insignificant amount of things in his life.
"Then..." you mused, "You can find it in your heart to love more. Just like me, you can slowly learn to make your heart beat."
He chuckled. "I’m a dead man."
"And I’m a deranged scientist. I’ll bring you back to life."
Oh, what would he do without you?
"When you say it like that, I feel as if it is actually... possible. But, even if we did create such a paradise," he looked at you tenderly, his gaze almost apologetic, "Would I be deserving of a seat in your world? Well, either way, if you ever establish this world you dream of, I would fight to protect it. I swear."
Sylus was not a religious man. He firmly believed there was no such higher being. Despite that, he couldn’t help but think of how, if a paradise were to exist, it would not be a place for people like him. If a supreme power existed, he would be thrown into the loneliest pits of hell, forever separated from what he yearned to hold eternally. He would never see you again. He would be damned. Completely and utterly.
If a paradise existed, it would be a place for ones like you. You would walk through the gates, your head held high, and you would not turn to look at him. He was a bad man, after all. He was not worthy of your kind gaze. He was merely a sinner, and he could but watch as you moved on with your joyous life. He would be happy for you, of course. But the agony of being separated from a lover is too much for one to bear. He couldn’t deny that his heart would quench at the sight of you, and how you’d feign ignorance of his existence and embrace your new life happily.
"One day, when the gates of judgment open, you will walk forward, and I will be left behind. And you will not wait for me. You will not look back. But I will admire you as you walk in. I will adore you until the consequences of my punishment rip me to shreds. And even in the flames, my eyes will never leave yours. Until that day, though, I will cherish you."
"Don't say that!" you frowned, furrowing your brows at him. "Do you truly think you’re irredeemable? You have potential! So much of it. If we wish to, we can simply rewrite your fate." You placed a hand on top of his and squeezed. "I'll be with you if you ever make that choice. We will nip you off the stem, and this time, you’ll grow back as a far more luscious plant than you ever were."
"And if I don’t change?"
"Well, we’ll make use of it. I won’t give up on you because of some imaginary restriction of morals."
So, if judgment day were to come, he could but watch, standing at the border between paradise and hell, his gaze locked on you incessantly as he loved you from the other side of paradise.
Until that day comes, though, he’ll love you. Until death does you apart.
