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Rook was a professional.
He had spent years perfecting his craft—stealth, deception, combat. He was a master of control, someone who could slip in and out of situations without leaving a trace, who could talk his way into a fortress and walk out without a scratch. He had survived ambushes, assassins, and things most people wouldn't believe if he told them.
And yet.
Yet.
None of that had prepared him for this.
For Lucanis Dellamorte.
For the way Lucanis moved so effortlessly, confidence woven into every step, every smirk, every carefully placed word. For the way his voice had this frustrating smoothness to it, like he always knew something no one else did. For the way his eyes flickered with amusement whenever Rook spoke, like he was just waiting for an excuse to tease him.
For the way Rook’s chest tightened every time Lucanis smiled at him.
It was infuriating.
Absolutely, deeply infuriating.
Which was why, when Neve finally cornered him about it, Rook had been fully prepared to tell her she was wrong.
"Alright," Neve said, arms crossed, her expression entirely done with him. "Let’s go over this one more time, since apparently, you are too dense to figure it out on your own."
Rook huffed, crossing his own arms. "I’m not dense."
"Rook, I swear to the Maker—" Neve exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You’ve been acting weird around Lucanis for months. Everyone sees it. Everyone knows it."
Rook scoffed. "Lucanis doesn't know it."
"Yes," Neve deadpanned. "Because he's the only one denser than you."
Rook frowned. "That feels like an insult."
"Good, because it is," Neve shot back. "Now. Explain to me what exactly you feel when you’re around him."
Rook hesitated. He didn’t want to talk about this. But Neve wasn’t going to drop it, and if he didn’t at least try to explain, she’d just keep pressuring him.
So, with a reluctant sigh, he said, "I don’t know. It’s—frustrating."
Neve raised an eyebrow. "Frustrating how?"
"Like—" Rook ran a hand through his hair. "Whenever he’s around, I feel like—like my chest gets all tight, and my face feels hot, and I can’t focus on anything because all I can think about is how damn smug he is all the time!"
Neve stared at him.
Rook exhaled sharply. "It’s infuriating! I just—I don’t get how he’s always so relaxed. How nothing ever seems to bother him. It’s like he knows he’s charming, and he uses it, and I—" Rook scowled, clenching his jaw. "I hate it."
Neve’s expression was unreadable. "So… let me get this straight." She folded her arms. "You’re telling me that when you think of Lucanis, your chest gets tight and your face gets hot, and you think that means you’re angry?"
Rook nodded. "Yeah."
Neve inhaled deeply. "Do you feel like that when you’re mad at me?"
Rook blinked. "No."
Neve nodded slowly. "Do you feel that way when you’re mad at literally anyone else?"
Another pause. "...No."
"So what you’re feeling about Lucanis isn’t anger," Neve said, her voice very patient, like she was explaining something to a particularly stubborn child. "It’s most likely—"
Rook’s eyes lit up like he’d just had a revelation.
"Super anger!"
Neve just stared at him.
For a long, long moment.
Then, without a word, she turned around and walked away.
Rook blinked. "...Neve?"
Neve didn’t respond.
Instead, she stormed out the door and across to the meeting room, grabbed Lucanis by the wrist, and began dragging him in Rook’s direction.
Lucanis, for his part, barely looked surprised. "Well, this is sudden," he mused, letting her pull him along. "Are we going somewhere? Should I be concerned?"
"Oh, you should be very concerned," Neve muttered.
Rook took a step back. "What—what are you doing?"
Neve shoved Lucanis forward. "You deal with him."
Lucanis raised an eyebrow. "Deal with what, exactly?"
Neve exhaled sharply, pointing at Rook like she was personally offended by his existence. "This idiot is in love with you and doesn’t know it."
Silence.
Lucanis blinked.
Rook froze.
Then—
"I—WHAT?!"
Lucanis turned to Rook, his golden eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Oh?"
Rook wanted to die.
"I—that’s not—" He shot Neve a look of pure betrayal. "That’s not what I said!"
Neve crossed her arms. "Really? Because that’s exactly what you said."
Rook groaned, running both hands down his face. "No—I said—super anger—"
Lucanis made a choked sound.
Neve rolled her eyes. "Super anger is not a thing, Rook."
"It could be!"
"It’s not!"
Lucanis, meanwhile, was still just standing there, watching them argue, his expression unreadable.
Rook felt his heart pounding against his ribs.
Maker’s breath. This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Lucanis wasn’t supposed to know.
Not like this.
Rook inhaled sharply, forcing himself to meet Lucanis’s gaze. "Look, I—I don’t know what she’s talking about, alright?" His voice came out far less convincing than he wanted. "It’s not—it’s not what you think, I just—"
Lucanis tilted his head. "Rook."
Rook froze.
Lucanis took a slow step forward, and suddenly, the playful smirk was gone.
Suddenly, he wasn’t teasing.
He wasn’t laughing.
He was just looking at Rook.
Like he was seeing through him.
And that was terrifying.
Lucanis’s voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "You really don’t know, do you?"
Rook’s throat went dry.
Lucanis stepped closer—too close—close enough that Rook could feel the warmth radiating off of him.
Rook tried to force himself to think, but Lucanis was right there, looking at him with something dangerously close to understanding.
Something that made Rook feel exposed.
Lucanis reached up, his fingers brushing against Rook’s wrist—just barely, just enough to send a sharp, electric shiver up Rook’s spine.
Then, softly—
"Would it be so bad?"
Rook swallowed. "What?"
Lucanis’s lips quirked, but there was something softer in his expression now. "If what she said was true."
Rook didn’t answer.
He couldn’t answer.
Because if he did—
If he admitted it—
Then there was no taking it back.
And for the first time in his life, Rook realized—
That terrified him more than anything.