Chapter Text
Nobody could prepare for what it was like to share a soul with another.
Or how heart wrenching it could feel.
Sylus thought he knew pain, thought he understood what their bond meant.
She never remembered. Never fully. Never made the connection between déjà vu and dreams to reality.
She's been everything and anything to him, drawn towards each other like a rose drinking in water.
After all this time, Sylus thought he was prepared. Dreams, thoughts, ambitions, wants, anxieties - there was nothing they haven't shared or seen in each other.
At least that's what he thought.
🖤❤️ 🌹🩸
It was during a late assignment he felt it.
I'm so hungry… I haven't eaten since this morning. But I'm so tired.
You.
You haven't eaten since this morning? Sylus pulled his phone out and tapped the screen on. The numbers 21:09 glared back at him. He exhaled, quickly typing the end of his sentence before shutting the laptop and getting up.
Heading towards the kitchen, he hit your contact's phone icon.
Faintly, he could hear the ring from your room.
Hungry.
Water filled up a pot that was put on the stove. Frozen vegetables filled up a bowl, chicken in another. You answer on the second to last ring.
"Sylus?"
"Hey sweetie," he replies while spraying oil on a pan. "You doing okay in there? It's past 10pm, I haven't heard from you since you got home."
He hears your blankets shift, your breathing, the way you stumble over remembering the right words. "Uh, I'm okay. Not sick."
"I didn't ask if you were sick, kitten. I asked how you were doing."
You yawn. "Oh, I'm just. Lying in bed. Took a nap I think."
"You think?" he lets his voice take on a reading tone. Never too pressuring. Just… Concerned. "Do you have water with you?"
He'd seen you fill up two water bottles the night before heading to your room and hadn't seen them since.
"Mmmm, yeah. I need to hydrate more. I've literally just been laying here."
I know. I can feel it.
"I'm making stir fry if you want some." He lets the offer hang in the air. "It'll be ready in a bit, so no rush."
"Really? Thanks Sylus, you're the best."
Was he?
Shouldn't he have made you food sooner? He knew you weren't eating- not intentionally, but just out of exhaustion. But it was presumptuous to try and take that role in your life, to assume you couldn't take care of yourself. Was this not your choice to make, to weigh the scale and decide "I'll satisfy my fatigue and the hunger will continue"?
Your hunger gnaws at his stomach.
"Anytime."
Your laugh is beautiful, even softened by your tiredness. "Yeah, thanks. I'll be out in a few minutes."
"Your welcome."
The phone call ends.
I'm tired. I can't get up. My legs hurt.
Eggs are cracked into the pan. A splash of water. The glass lid clicks into place.
Sylus takes out a single serving yogurt and opens it, draining the yogurt juice over the sink. He reaches for the pack of granola bars and takes one out, as well as grabbing the bag of nuts.
You pad into the kitchen, just in a T shirt, and sit on the stool.
His legs ache, but it's not his pain.
"You don't have to sit with me," he gestures to their couch. "It'll be done in a few minutes."
Nuts are sprinkled on top of the yogurt. A drizzle of honey. He opens the granola bar for you, puts it down, adds a spoon to the yogurt before handing it to you.
"Something to cost your stomach. How spicy do you want the noodles?"
You smile. "Thank you. Uh, however you want to make them is fine."
He turns to pull the eggs off the burner, not wanting them overdone. The vegetables and chicken are tossed into the pan. He glances at the water. Still not boiling. He takes out the noodles anyway, just in case.
Sylus tries to avoid looking at you.
You don't have to sit on the couch. But you should. You're tired, the stool is too tall and too uncomfortable.
He hears you swallow.
"That's good."
"It's just yogurt, sweetie." It's the least I can do. "Don't worry about it."
You shift.
Want to watch him cook.
Oh. He almost says you can watch him cook from the couch, before catching you hadn't spoken out loud.
He drops the noodles into the now boiling water, trying to ignore the ache in his chest.
She can make her own decisions. I just wish things weren't so painful.
The spoon clinks against the pan as he pushes the vegetable and chicken mixture around. Sauces are added, ringing as the glass bottles bump into each other in the fridge door. Your chewing noises register in the background of it all.
Sylus sets a timer for 7 minutes and turns the pan down to a simmer before making his way to the stool opposite from you.
"How was your day?"
He'd asked earlier. You had said "Good, I'll tell you more later." Was this later?
"Eh, I wish I got more done. Class really took it out of me today. What about you?"
"Just the usual assignments."
You snort. "You were working all day today, too, is what you're saying."
Sylus shakes his head. "I had Mephie to remind me to eat, I didn't work all day."
"Your mechanical bird reminding you doesn't mean you actually got up and ate. Besides, I've seen you working while eating lunch. That's not a break."
Sylus could be a hypocrite sometimes.
"You caught me, kitten. At least we're eating now."
He has to walk back and flip the chicken around, adding the eggs back in on top to get warm again. He pulls out the strainer for the noodles and watches the timer count down.
Don't wanna go to class tomorrow.
"Tomorrow is your long day, right?"
You groan. "Don't remind me. I know it's only two classes, but the lectures are long. I have to be processing everything the whole time."
Sylus nods as you continue rambling. He loves that you feel comfortable sharing your frustrations, that you know he won't judge you or demean your intelligence.
In high school, it had been a breeze for both of you. However, it made the transition of needing to be mentally focused for 1 hour to at least 5 hours straight a difficult one.
He catches the timer before it can ring and strained noodles join the pan of egg, vegetables, and chicken. Seasonings are generously added and he closes the pan to let it sit for a few more minutes.
Pulling out drinks, he chooses two ginger ale and places one down in front of you, twisting the cap and breaking the seal so you don't have to struggle with it. "For your stomach."
"Thanks."
Sylus recycles your granola wrapper for you and takes the empty yogurt cup, dropping it into the trash and rinsing the spoon off in the sink.
"I could've done that."
"I know, but it's really no major task."
Late dinner is distributed and this time you do get up when he walks over holding two plates. Settling in at the dining table, you reach over to squeeze his hand.
"Thanks so much, I was planning on just sleeping til breakfast it was getting so late."
I know.
"Anytime."
You moan around the first bite, eyes closing. "Fuck Sylus, are you a god?"
His lips twitch in amusement. "God of what, good food?"
You swallow another bite. "God of being the best friend ever?" You tilt your head. "I'll get back to you on that."
You load up another large bite.
Delicious. More. He's happy to see all those lifetimes of encouraging you to be greedier are paying off. Sylus isn't complaining. He's happy to provide you with everything he can.
Gently, he adds, "No need to rush, I promise it won't disappear. There's more on the stove."
You defiantly eat the bite. "You sound like Zayne. But fine just so I don't get a stomach ache from eating too fast and not noticing I'm full."
"Zayne sounds like he knows what he's talking about."
"Zayne is an insufferably smart medical major who needs to spend more time bugging his engineer boyfriend instead of his humanities friend," you counter. "Caleb is wayyyy worse than me! He eats lemon slices!"
Sylus chuckles between bites. "Are lemon slices unhealthy?"
"No, but they're sour and he's weird." Affection is strong in your voice. "You could be a chef."
Satisfied. Tastes good.
"I only need to cook for you. And our friends. I'm afraid the kitchen life only calls to me domestically."
You roll your eyes. "Okay, house husband."
"I would be happy to work from home. It wouldn't be too different than our situation now."
You don't deny it, giggling at the mental picture.
The food is good. You're happy. He's proud of himself.
You both chat idly through finishing the meal, quiet commentary flashing in and out of his mind.
He's funny. My eyes hurt. I want to stay up and hear him talk. That bite had the perfect ratio of ingredients. My hips hurt. How did he make me like vegetables?
Gathering up the plates, he quickly washes them off and lets them soak in hot water. After washing his hands and putting the leftovers away he returns to you. You've gotten up and are stretching, hands above your head, shirt riding up slightly.
His eyes flicker down briefly before meeting your gaze, stretching himself.
You sigh. His smirk is wiped off his face when you drop yourself against him, hugging into his chest.
"Thanks for dinner."
"You're welcome."
He rests his chin on your hair. "I can make us dinner anytime."
"Even at noon?"
"That's lunch, sweetie."
You laugh. "Are you going to brush your teeth?" Fatigue is settling into your bones, eyelids heavy. Now that you've been properly fed the food coma is setting in.
"… I was going to use mouthwash and go to bed."
He hugs you back. "I can floss for you."
"Sylus! I can do it myself."
He laughs.
Later in bed when the feelings of warm, comfortable, sated, cozy drift into consciousness he can't help but shoot you a text.
Sylus: do you want this to be a regular thing?
You: midnight dinner?
Sylus: dinner together
You are typing…
You: if I can cook sometimes too
There's a joke somewhere about asking if you're going to help with the dishes or clean up, but there's no point in Sylus saying it. Not when he has no qualms about handling it fully.
Sylus: I'm excited to see your culinary creations.