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As always, Loid stood in the shadows, watching.
It was the annual charity gala at Eden Academy. Parents, donors, and administrators had been invited to enjoy a night of food and dance at Eden’s lavish banquet hall. Though the event was explicitly intended to “garner continued financial support for Eden Academy’s academic programs,” the attendees seemed to be a bit more focused on…their own ambitions.
To the left of Loid, a huddle of businessmen puffed about, each boasting about their profit margins for the quarter. To the right, a few parents who had evidently enjoyed a little too much booze stumbled around the dance floor, giggling. One’s face was beginning to look a bit green, and Loid winced as he saw the man hold back a burp.
It was a good thing that Mr. Henderson wasn’t here to see. Even Loid found himself curling his lip at the resolutely “inelegant” behavior from his fellow Eden Academy parents.
Though, perhaps he wasn’t one to talk. After all, he had his own motives for attending the charity gala as well, and for withdrawing to this secluded corner under the guise of taking a break. An event as grand as this drew powerful figures from all circles, and Loid would be remiss not to take this opportunity to size up potential connections for his mission. One friendly acquaintance could mean the difference between gaining access to the elusive Donovan Desmond and remaining in the dark.
Yet as he scanned the crowd, he kept finding his eyes flitting back to one woman.
Yor was presently standing near the refreshments table with Melinda and their fellow mom friends, all chatting with drinks in hand. At one of the other mother’s remarks, Yor laughed, a tinkling noise that carried across the room to Loid’s perch in the corner.
Loid shook himself off. When peace between the east and the west was on the line, there was no time to be slacking. He resumed his studious analysis of the room. Aaron Tipperson, patron of the local arts. Alexandra Steinfeld, wife to a famous sommelier…
His gaze slid past them and found its way back to Yor. Catching himself, he cringed silently.
Her group of friends had moved closer, and he could see her more clearly now. Yor was wearing an off-the-shoulder dress in a deep ocean blue, which she and Anya had picked together at the mall. In the rush of their shopping trip—and a side mission that he had been instructed to complete at the same time, as a wanted armed dealer had been making his way through the mall while his wife and daughter shopped—Loid hadn’t paid close attention to his family’s activities. After disarming the gentleman and tying him up for the SSS to find, Loid sprinted back from the “bathroom” (“Chi-chi needs to take a shit,” Anya had solemnly told Yor, before Loid had a chance to make up a half-hearted excuse about why he needed to leave). Doing his best to hide his heavy breathing from running, he told Yor with a practiced smile that her selected dress “looked beautiful on her,” before slumping back home in exhaustion with his family.
Now, in the dim lighting of the banquet hall, Loid felt as if he were seeing Yor in that dress for the first time. The dark blue fabric draped elegantly around her figure and cinched at the waist. His gaze trailed up from her waist, meandering up her exposed back and shoulders and pausing at the soft lines of her neck.
Swallowing hard, he grabbed his glass of wine off the table next to him and took a long sip. Get a grip, Agent Twilight. He had seen plenty of beautiful women wearing beautiful dresses in his missions before. This was no different.
But as he told himself that, his eyes kept sliding back to his wife, who had now turned her body slightly. He could see the side of her face, glowing with wine and shared laughter. A few strands of hair had fallen out of her pinned bun, framing her face beautifully.
He exhaled, and leaned against the wall. It was nice to see Yor relax. When they had first begun their relationship—or rather, their ruse—she was always so tense, barely able to stammer through a conversation with him. Gradually, she had begun to look more at ease in their home and at his side, although there were still times, like on their dates, she would look extremely nervous around him. He could never figure out why.
His gaze slipped back to her bare shoulders. He hadn’t really noticed them before; perhaps because she hadn’t worn off-the-shoulder dresses or shirts around him. They were slender and strong, like her.
Suddenly, Melinda turned around, making eye contact with Loid. He flinched out of his stupor. Her eyes widened, gaze darting between Yor and him, as a mischievous smile grew on her face.
Caught. He cringed, feeling his neck grow hot as he saw Melinda lean over and whisper something to his wife. Yor looked over at him and covered her mouth in surprise, her cheeks turning pink. Laughing, Melinda pushed Yor forward.
Why did he feel so embarrassed, watching Yor make her way towards him? They were husband and wife. Yor was a beautiful woman, and any man, especially her own husband, had reason to look at her. Yes, there was nothing to be flustered about. He was probably just thrown off because he wasn’t used to seeing Yor in a formal dress. That was it.
Loid resolutely ignored his pounding heart as Yor approached him, hands clasped in front of her with a shy smile on her face.
“Loid, Melinda said that you wanted something?” she tilted her head curiously.
At her wording, he felt his neck heating up again. What was wrong with him? Shaking it off, he flashed a bright smile at his wife.
“Oh, I was just appreciating how pretty you look tonight.” It was a line he had rehearsed so many times to women during his missions, one that took very little consideration at all of how the woman in question looked. At this point, it was devoid of any sincerity.
But as Yor blushed and glanced away, it felt as if it were the first time he ever used the line.
“Thank you. I’m glad Anya and I picked it.” Her gaze returned to him, deep pools of red pulling him in. “I miss her. I wish she could be here.
As always, Yor was a doting mother. Unable to help himself, he smiled warmly. “I know, but I’m sure she’s having fun with Franky. And, it’s nice to have some time to ourselves for once.”
Her face turned pink, a sight he was coming to greatly enjoy. He blinked, hard. Because a blushing wife was a happy wife. Yes. And a happy wife meant a successful mission, and peace between the east and west.
Maybe he had been standing still for too long. Getting his body moving would help him to think more clearly.
Offering a hand to Yor, he asked, “Why don’t we dance?” Her face lit up.
Out of the corner of his eye, as he led Yor to the dance floor, he caught Melinda smirking. Maybe scheming ran in their family. If so, he would have to redouble his efforts to infiltrate the Desmond family…
Any thoughts of his mark dissipated as Yor turned to face him, a question on her face. “Um…I haven’t really danced before,” she admitted.
Immediately, he reassured her, “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you. Just follow my lead." Loid had ample dance experience—one of his previous missions had involved infiltrating a crime group that masqueraded as a professional ballroom dance team. Though, to Yor and the other attendees at the banquet, Loid Forger was just an ordinary, upper-class man who had basic dance skills. Taking her hands, he placed one on his shoulder and the other in his right hand. Then, he placed his left hand at his waist.
Holding Yor like this felt natural. Too natural. Loid swallowed, then began to dance.
Gently, he guided her around the dance floor, slowly moving so that she could copy his steps. Yor was stiff as a board, eyes darting between the ground and his chest. Was she uncomfortable? Perhaps she was just afraid of stepping on him.
He leaned in close to her ear so that she could hear him over the music, and murmured, “You’re doing great, Yor.”
Her ears flushed. “Oh! Th-thank you.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she looked up at him, smiling, red eyes twinkling under the lights.
As they danced together more, Yor’s hands moved to his shoulders, and Loid’s hands to her waist. Amid Yor’s soft gaze and gentle smile, Loid left his ballroom dance steps at the wayside. Gradually, he and Yor began to sway together gently to the rhythm of the music, movements in unison.
Suddenly, Yor leaned in close, and looked up at him curiously. Her eyes pinned him in place, and his breath stuttered. “You smell different. Are you wearing a new cologne?” she inquired.
In fact, Loid had showered at WISE that day and used a different body wash from his normal one. He couldn’t help the warmth pooling in his stomach at the thought of Yor noticing a detail so intimate about him. His eyes widened. Pause. Yes, of course he was impressed by Yor’s olfactory senses! They were ones befitting a spy. Perhaps they could recruit her to work for WISE. No, it was far too dangerous for her, and she was too sweet and kind of a woman…
As Loid was furiously arguing with himself, he realized Yor was still waiting for a response. Quickly, he spun up a plausible explanation. “Ah yes, I’m…testing out a new cologne,” he replied, before flipping the question back to her. “Do you like it?”
Yor blinked in surprise. “Oh, me?” She looked away, then back to him. “Yes, I like it but…” she paused, and Loid froze. Did he smell repulsive to her? Oh no, was that why she had asked why he smelled different? What if the scent was giving her a headache?
Looking down, she murmured, “I prefer your regular scent, Loid.”
Oh. His breath stuttered. In his stupor, he stopped moving, causing a nearby couple to almost crash into him. He regained his wits soon enough to spin them out of the way. In their movements, they shifted to a part of the dance floor that was more crowded, forcing them even closer together.
Yor tensed up a bit, and he squeezed her waist, noting to himself how very soft it was. “You okay?” She nodded, and relaxed, inching nearer as she did so.
Swaying together, the music seemed to slow. The couples around them became a faceless blur, as Loid focused solely on the woman in front of him.
The words came tumbling out on their own. “You look…” his voice caught as he felt her breath fanning out on his neck. “So beautiful,” he finished. He sounded deeper, huskier than usual. Perhaps he had consumed more wine than he had thought.
“Oh! Th-thank you.” She tilted her face up, beaming at him.
Loid felt dizzy. His fingers were twitching, trying to inch closer to her back, but he forced them to remain on the fabric of her dress.
If he touched her, he wasn’t sure what else would come out of his mouth.
Brain in a fog, Loid tried to distract himself by making some off-handed, unfunny comment about how they were all packed like sardines. Yor laughed, and then rested her head on his shoulder, which only made his heartbeat stutter even more.
There was barely a breath between their bodies. At this point, they were hardly moving to the music, holding each other tightly on the dance floor. He looked down and saw that Yor had closed her eyes, a peaceful smile on her face as she laid her head on his shoulder. A strand of hair had fallen in front of her eye, and without thinking, he pushed it behind her ear. She was…
He inhaled deeply, smelling something slightly sweet and very Yor.
There was something on the tip of Loid’s tongue that he wanted to say but also didn’t want to say—something that he knew once he spoke, he would not be able to take back. Instead, he forced himself to remain quiet.
He remembered how the woman in his arms once gently advised him to “Sit back, and relax.”
Closing his eyes, he exhaled, and pulled Yor ever so closer to him, willing this dance to go on just a little longer.
Some time after, the lights in the banquet hall came back on, and then a familiar, commanding male voice echoed out, announcing that the event had ended. As the couples around them dispersed, Yor stepped away from him. On instinct, Loid reached out for her warmth, before forcing his arms to drop reluctantly at his side.
She grinned at him, eyes sparkling. “That was so nice. Let’s do that again.”
He returned her smile with a genuine one. “Definitely.”
Later, on the rooftop of the building, Loid looked at Yor.
As they were leaving the gala, Melinda had advised them to check out the rooftop view, waving them off with a wink. Still dazed from the dance, Loid barely managed to thank her before he followed his wife up the stairs.
Now, standing a few feet apart from him, Yor was looking up at the sky in awe. He followed her gaze upwards.
The night sky blanketed their slumbering city, comfortable as the silence stretching between him and Yor. He wondered if she saw a smattering of stars, or ordered and familiar constellations. He wondered if she knew them by heart, like he did.
He drank in the sight of her. Right now, there was no high-stakes mission to attend to, no last-minute homework assignment to look over. No Franky, Handler, or Nightfall breathing over his shoulder, chastising him for "getting attached." It was just him and Yor.
Vaguely, he recalled that his original purpose of attending the gala was to collect information about the Eden Academy parents. Strangely enough, he didn’t feel a pressing sense of urgency that he had left the task unfinished. Perhaps he should have been more concerned about that fact.
Oh well. Tomorrow, and all the days after, he would go back to being Twilight. Tonight, he could enjoy this moment as Loid Forger. A dutiful father, husband, and civilian, enjoying his night off with his lovely wife from whom he couldn’t look away.
And if he took her hand in his and pressed a tender kiss to the back of her hand—basking in the sound of her soft gasp—amid a storm of emotions and secrets swirling in his chest, so close to spilling over, no one needed to know.