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Sylus was cleaning his guns when he had felt it. Suddenly, a rip that shredded through his chest, a pain unimaginable. He had never felt something like that before, a tear through his being; immediate and hollow. An ache, a chill, something was missing, something was wrong.
Immediately he stood up and grabbed his phone. Pressing on your contact he called, straight to voicemail. Then again, no answer. A frustrated panic built itself up inside of him, why wouldn't you answer the phone? Immediately he called Mephisto, ordered him to find you. He paced the inside of his room, ruby eyes darting around; surveying the area, still holding a hand to his aching chest. Telling himself that you were okay, that there could be another reason for this feeling in his chest. The emptiness that hasn't let up.
He glanced down at the phone in his hand, staring at the contact picture you were so adamant on putting. Letting out a heavy sigh, he sat down at the foot of his bed. The seconds passed like minutes. Minutes passed like hours until finally, he heard the mechanical flapping of Mephisto's wings.
His head snapped up, to watch as the mechanical whir of his machines sounded throughout the room. To anyone else, Mephisto's soft caws wouldn't have mattered. But for Sylus, through his interpretations, his world came crashing down. He listened as Mephisto recounted the events, of how he saw the overwhelming amount of ambulances surrounding the area. how he zoomed in and saw, your limp figure laying on the gurney. The way your lifeless eyes stared up at the sky, as if you were still trying to catch a glimpse of something before your final breath.
Through each recount, the empty space you had left behind; grew, festered. Sylus didn't know what to do, what could he do? He felt as if you were ripped out from inside him, and so he looked for answers. He lost himself in trying to come up with any explanation as to why he couldn't feel your existence anymore— as if you were never there.
Days passed slowly, each moment filled with unanswered questions. He had recurring nightmares. Images his subconscious created to torture him. He had enough information about what you looked like when you died but he punished himself with it. Creating scenarios where he could have saved you, been there for you…. fought for you. And his mind always came back to; if you died…. Why didn't he? They were supposed to be connected, bonded— souls bound together by a curse only lifted from your hand.
Luke and Kieran watched as Sylus, their boss, their father figure lost any semblance of light that he had gained from you. They tried to make him feel better, through their jokes, but there wasn't even a flicker of amusement in his crimson eyes. He had never felt emptier, he knew there was something wrong. Knew from their soul ties that he should still be able to feel her —reborn.
Sylus walked to his gym, pulling on his boxing gloves— and he was gone. He stayed there for hours, to the point of the gloves no longer protecting his hands. Luke and Kieran went searching for him, following the sound of grunts and broken sobs. The heavy sound of the punching bag resounded in the room as he dealt each blow. They paused, glancing at each other. They had never seen him like this— Sylus was always someone who kept his cool. Shielding himself with his hard exterior. It wasn't till he dropped down to his knees from exhaustion that they rushed towards him.
"Boss!" they yelled out, immediately crouching down next to him. Their voices sounded fuzzy, white noise filling his ears. He grunted, his despair palpable. Sylus was never the kind to show his emotions— unless it was you.
"I'm fine." he rasped out, pushing them away. They both stared at him incredulously , "Boss…" Luke trailed off, turning to Kieran. Neither of them knew what to do, of course Sylus has always had a soft spot for you. A romantic straight to the core, patient, gentle. But this, it broke him. It felt like a shard embedded itself deeper into his chest the more he tried to figure out what was wrong. The irony— he could almost laugh.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go, he was supposed to follow you everywhere. He staggered, gripping the wall as he walked back to his room. Luke and Kieran followed slowly, silent. Watching as Sylus stepped into his room, slowly closing the door behind him. They sighed, glancing at each other and walked away. He stood there in silence, thinking of the times you filled the space with your laughter, your love. Dull eyes flicked across the space you once shared, lingering on things you had left behind. He slowly turned, making his way into the shower. Feeling the water running down his body, made him think that this is something you would no longer be able to feel. And so he continued spiraling, scalding hot water hitting his back as he continued brewing on the stubbornness of his own mind. The lump in his throat that hasn't let up since he had found out what had happened to you was beginning to overwhelm him.
Clutching at his chest, a sob broke through. Tears blended into the water as they slipped down his cheeks. Grieving you, grieving the idea that he'd never see you again; now and in the future.
Was he meant to live eternity without you? He couldn't feel you anymore, the warm tendrils of your soul, threading itself into his own being— no longer there. You left behind something he could never fill, an abyss that would consume him. And no matter how many times he would try to take his own breath, end the pain that now embodied him; everything stayed the same.
Time would continue to pass, and each day he would hope for a glimmer of your soul, something that could tell him that you were still out there. Waiting for him with open arms. His efforts would be in vain, for he was made to suffer eternally without your warmth. Forever searching in his own memories for glimpses of you.