Work Text:
They say that yearning for someone often means noticing their absence in daily moments — like instinctively turning toward where they should be, holding a photo of them close as if their warmth will suddenly emerge from it, finding that days just do not feel right without them, anything to make one feel like their loved one is still there.
It is a deep type of desire for connection, where simply sitting in silence together is enough to bring peace. A peace that brings comfort. A comfort that becomes a sanctuary. A sanctuary that forms safety. A type of safety that morphs into want.
That want is what had you on chokehold for the past seven months. The want you couldn’t deem fulfilled even if you wanted it to:
Sylus.
The man who you resented from the first time you met him two years ago, was now the man that engulfed every aspect of your heart. The man whose hands were rough when they handled a gun but were gentle when they touched you. The same man that massacred places, illegally exported protocores, killed anyone who betrayed or questioned his authority… and basically did every single terrible thing that was against your morals as a hunter. But it was his secret, vulnerable side he reserved only for you that made you stick with a soul like him.
Seven months ago, you two were on a date to Tinkle Toys Arcade, the colorful neon lights flickering like distant stars in the dimly lit huge floor, casting playful shadows over the rows of machines humming with electronic life and cute pop-up stands with the T.T.’s products. The air smelled of popcorn and faint ozone from the overworked gadgets, a rare bubble of normalcy in your chaotic world. Sylus had insisted on this outing, his tall, broad frame somehow blending into the crowd of laughing families and couples… though his piercing red eyes and the subtle menace in his posture drew a few wary glances.
But you didn't care.
Tonight, he was just yours; teasing, indulgent, and the man who let his guard down enough to humor your whims.
The claw machine had become your battlefield, its glass case stuffed with an army of plushies: fluffy cats with oversized bows, grinning dinosaurs (the ones Sylus usually favored along with the crow plushie), and pastel-colored creatures and foods that seemed to mock you from behind the plexiglass. You'd already claimed a victory ten minutes earlier, a grumpy black cat, your fingers sticky from the joystick as the claw descended with uncharacteristic precision.
"Luck's on our side tonight!" you'd said, grinning as the machine whirred and dropped a soft, white rabbit in an ice cream cone into the chute. Sylus had retrieved it with a smirk, his long fingers brushing yours as he handed it over, the touch lingering just a second too long.
"For you," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that cut through the arcade's din. "Though I suspect you'll need an army of these to keep you company when I'm away."
You'd laughed it off then, feeding another coin into the slot. The claw hovered, swaying gently under your control, and with a careful nudge, it snagged a baby blue fox plushie on the first try. It tumbled down triumphantly, and you pumped your fist in the air.
"See? We're unstoppable!” You exclaimed proudly before looking around for your next target. “One more; let's get that pink elephant in the corner. It’ll go perfectly with the room we’re setting up for the video game room back at the base.”
Sylus leaned against the machine once you started your probably fifth plushie mission this evening, arms crossed over his chest, watching your determination shine through with that half-amused, half-predatory gaze of his. His silver hair caught the flashing lights, making him look almost ethereal amid the garish colors. For a moment, everything felt light, the weight of his world forgotten in the simple joy of this game. But then his expression shifted, the easy smile fading into something heavier, more guarded… The same look that suggested he’s about to say something he doesn’t want to.
"About that…" he said, his tone casual but edged with finality. "I need to head out soon. N109 duty calls."
“When?” You glanced up, still focused on maneuvering the claw.
“In a few days, give or take.” He replied. These departures were routine; Sylus vanishing into the shadows for a week or two, handling whatever dark dealings kept Onychinus running.
Even if it wasn’t in ways you fully agreed with.
You nodded once, still determined to get your hands on the plushie. You'd grown used to it, steeling yourself with the knowledge he'd always return, unscathed and unrepentant. "How long this time?" you asked, the claw dipping low.
He hesitated, and that pause sent a flicker of unease through you. "Longer than usual. More than two months. Could be... indefinite. Not really sure yet.” A beat passed. “I'll be going alone. No contacts, no backup."
The words hit like a sudden blackout, the arcade's noise muffling into a distant roar. Your hand froze on the joystick, the claw hovering uselessly above the pink elephant, its fabric eye staring up accusingly.
Longer than two months?
Alone?
Heh, he can’t be serious right now… right?
Sylus never ventured into solo operations that extended beyond a short duration. His actions were meticulously planned, intricately woven with the twins’ cunning or Mephisto’s watchful surveillance. As you turned to face him fully, your heart skipped a beat, the plushie forgotten in the moment.
"What? Why? What's the mission?"
His jaw tightened, eyes scanning the crowd before settling back on you with quiet intensity. "Infiltrating the Veil Syndicate. They've got a stockpile of unstable protocores in the forbidden zones, enough to level half of Linkon’s outskirts if they detonate them. Word is, they're planning to auction them off to the highest bidder, and if that bidder's who I think...” he paused, wondering how much he should really tell you due to the fact that he already knew how you were going to react by the end of this, “…it could unravel everything we've built. I have to go in deep, pose as one of them. One wrong move, and it's over. Not just for me, but for Onychinus."
The danger of it sank in, cold and sharp. The Veil Syndicate was notorious, a nest of traitors and Wanderer sympathizers who executed infiltrators on sight. No room for error, no way to call for help.
“What about the twins, are they not going with you? Mephie can also be a huge help!”
“They’ll… be waiting at the jet in case something goes south. Mephisto will, as usual, oversee from high grounds. But no one will be there with me at the auction.”
You swallowed hard, the rabbit-ice cream plushie clutched tight in your other hand like a talisman. "Let me come with you. I can handle it, I've faced worse with you before. We could watch each other's backs. I can't...” You swallowed hard, unable to say the words you need to.
I won’t be able to last that long without you.
Not knowing that you’re safe.
He reached out, his palm cupping your cheek with that rare gentleness that was always shown solely towards you, thumb tracing your jawline. But his eyes were steel. "No. This isn't a joint op. Not this time. You stay here, keep things steady. If anything happened to you because of me..." He trailed off, the vulnerability flashing brief and raw before he masked it. "I need you safe. That's non-negotiable. You know that.”
The refusal stung like a needles… but you nodded, throat tight, forcing your gaze back to the machine. Maybe if you kept playing, the moment would pass, the luck would hold. You guided the claw down again, aiming for the cute pink elephant, but it slipped at the last second, grazing the plush and retreating empty.
Another try.
Miss.
Another.
Missed again.
The machine beeped mockingly after your five tries were up, your hands trembling now as frustration welled up. The good fortune had evaporated the instant he spoke of leaving, leaving only this hollow echo of what could have been a perfect night.
And just like that, Sylus left four days later.
You don’t remember the last time you felt this lonely. Not since the explosion on your childhood home years ago when you lost the two people you ever considered family, leaving you adrift in the rubble of your old life.
But this was worse; a quiet, gnawing void that seeped into every corner of your days. Seven months without Sylus, you don’t know how many more you will need to last, and your apartment felt like a ghost of itself. When his rare visits happened in the dead of night — sometimes quick, shadowed returns that left more questions than comfort and others longer and lasting with fun — you'd wake to the invisible imprint of him on the sheets. In those moments, you'd roll onto his side of the bed, burying your face in the pillow that still carried the faint trace of his expensive cologne; woody and sharp, a reminder of arms that enveloped you like armor.
The loneliness drove you to Onychinus's Emory base more often than you cared to admit, the sprawling, mansion-of-a-lair that hummed with secrets. You'd wander the echoing halls, expecting the twins' mischievous banter or Mephisto’s mechanical wings whirring above your head, but they were ghosts too… Off on their own errands their boss-man must’ve assigned them so they wouldn’t join him on his main mission, leaving the place eerily still.
His quarters became your refuge, the door clicking shut behind you as you slipped into the walk-in closet. There, amid the tailored coats and leather fingerless gloves, you'd pull one of his shirts from the hanger, pressing it to your face and inhaling deeply. The scent of him, smoke-tinged leather and something uniquely his, brought a pang so sharp it stole your breath, tears pricking as you sank to the floor, clutching the fabric like a lifeline.
Your phone was another torment, a gallery of captured moments that twisted the knife deeper. Scrolling through photos of stolen evenings of his rare smile in the soft glow of your living room light, the two of you tangled in laughter over a shared meal, and other times whether it was calming dates or chaotic fun at the base with the twins and Mephie. You felt the hurt bloom anew. Each image was a doorway to what was missing: his deep voice murmuring endearments, the way his presence filled a room, commanding yet safe.
You missed his tough love most of all. The gruff encouragement before boxing, the way he'd challenge you to be stronger without ever letting you fall, his warmth when you cuddled together, the intensity of his desire when you two were making love, the delicious weight of his body over yours…
Even battling Wanderers in the field, their snarls and claws filling the air with chaos, offered no escape now. The adrenaline faded too quickly, leaving you hollow, yearning for the one fight that mattered: pulling him back from the edge.
You felt like a madwoman.
Silently yearning.
Feeling too obsessed.
It even got to a point you were wonder if Sylus would ever come back or not.
Days blurred into weeks, the routine of absence wearing you thin until, as always after the halfway mark of that first month, you couldn't hold back anymore. You'd pace the dim apartment, phone in hand, the screen lighting your face like a beacon in the dark. Every day and night, you'd dial his number, the rings stretching out.
Once, twice, three times, before clicking over to voicemail.
Texts followed in a flood:
“Are you safe?”
“I miss you.”
“Please, just one word...”
Some delivered with a soft chime, others lingering in limbo, but none ever marked as read.
The silence was deafening, a wall you couldn't breach.
Tonight, resolve hardened in your chest. You hit call again, waiting through the familiar tones, sinking onto the couch with the phone pressed to your ear, the same words spilling out like they did every time, a ritual of connection in the void:
"Hey, Sylus... it's me again. Another day without you, heh... I woke up late this morning, couldn't drag myself out of bed because your side felt so empty.”
Empty…
You ran a hand aggressively over your face, sighing dramatically as if it could help make you feel any better. “Made some simple toast with jam for breakfast, the strawberry kind you like, but it tasted bland without you stealing half of it. Spent the afternoon at the market, picked up some fresh veggies for stir-fry later. Oh, and I finally fixed that leaky faucet in the kitchen; remember how it drove you crazy last time you were here? Took me three tries, but I got it. Feels good to handle things, but... I wish you were here to grumble about it being 'hunter's work' instead of yours."
You paused, a small smile tugging at your lips as you thought of Tara. "Tara called earlier, going on about this cute guy who owns the flower shop down the street. It’s called ‘Phlio’ I think. You know, the one with the wildflowers in the window? She's been buying bouquets every week just to chat with him, says he's got this shy smile and hands that smell like earth and roses. She kept asking me for advice on how to ask him out, like I have any idea. I told her, 'Tara, just say you like his daisies or whatever.' She laughed and said, 'Daisies? It's his eyes that are blooming!' We cracked up for ages, haha! She's convinced he's the one, but I think she's just lonely too.”
A soft laugh escaped you, the first real one in months. “Wish you could hear her stories; you'd probably roll your eyes and call it 'frivolous nonsense,' but secretly enjoy the drama."
The lighthearted recounting faded, the weight settling back in as you curled up on the couch, knees drawn to your chest.
“Seven months…” you thought, the number echoing like a wound that wouldn't heal. How much longer can this go on? “Every night, I reach for you in the dark… and there's nothing but cold sheets. I miss the way you'd pull me close without a word, like I was the only anchor in your storm.”
Your voice cracked as the pour began, raw and unfiltered.
"Sylus... it's been seven months. Seven whole months without you, and it's tearing me apart. I miss your touch. The way your fingers would trace lazy patterns on my skin when we watched the rain from the window, making everything feel steady. Your warmth, how it chased away the chill of the world outside, wrapping around me like nothing bad could touch us.”
You coughed. Purposely. Trying to fight back the burn in your chest while knowing it’ll eventually be futile.
“That embrace of yours... God, I crave it. The way you'd hold me tight, like you were afraid I'd slip away if you let go. And your stupid, cocky smirk, always knowing exactly how to make me laugh even when I wanted to stay mad.” Another laugh left you, but this time more hallow… More broken.
“I miss your voice in the mornings, gruff from sleep, telling me to get up or you'd drag me out yourself. Your laugh, rare and deep, that rumbled through me like thunder. The way you'd look at me across a room, eyes softening just for me, seeing past all the walls I’ve built since my life turned upside down from the explosion on my childhood house before i met you.”
You sniffed, your vision started to get blurry, and your voice was now watered down to faint whimpers that evidently showed that you were on the brink of breaking down for the thousand time this WEEK.
A long pause. Breathing uneven. Staring up at the ceiling that’s still over your head even though it feels like your whole world was crumbling.
“I… I miss everything, Sylus. Your strength when I'm weak, your quiet when words fail, the way you make me feel safe in a life that's anything but.” A pitiful sob escapes you, and you’re quick to muffle it. “I-It's like half of me is gone… wandering those forbidden zones without me. And the thought of losing all that makes me ache with hurt… I CAN’T do this alone anymore!”
What if he's hurt? What if he doesn't make it? I can't lose him, not after everything…
“Please... just come back.” you whimpered out between small sobs. “I miss you, Sylus… I really do…”
Tears streamed down your face now, hot and unrelenting, your breath hitching as the sobs you couldn’t hold back anymore built on and on.
“Then hurry and open up, kitten.”
You froze.
For a good minute, you thought your heart stopped beating. Time seemed to freeze in that exact moment. Your eyes were wide, a million emotions whirling within you. Some you could name — shock, relief, denial — and others you couldn’t.
That voice... real, not a recording. Here?
You were in shock, frozen on the couch, phone still clutched to your ear. Nothing else was said, just waiting, the presence a silent pull.
And that’s when you realized... the phone didn’t beep after the ringing. The beep that indicated a voicemail was being recorded. The beep you heard every day for seven months, two weeks, and three days, yet somehow missed this time because that’s how much misery you were in to notice.
It had connected… live, unbroken.
Your gaze darted to the front door, where a shadow shifted amongst the light from the hallway seeped under the frame there, tall and unmistakable, the outline of just the base of his shoes and a familiar stance that sent your pulse racing.
You knew it was him, just by looking at it; no one else carried that quiet command.
Scrambling up, you bolted to the door, tripping on your way there and fingers fumbling with the lock before yanking it open. There he stood, silver hair slightly disheveled from travel, those piercing red eyes locking onto yours with a mix of exhaustion and warmth while wearing his classic biker’s outfit and jacket. Phone still to his ear, he smiled — that cocky, heart-melting curve of his lips — and ended the call with a soft click.
"Hey, sweetie," he said, voice low and soft, laced with fatigue but brimming with the tenderness he reserved only for you. A tone that meant he was tired, ready to be home: to you.
He opened his arms wide, inviting, steady.
You didn't hesitate, launching yourself into him by jumping into his embrace, arms wrapping around his neck and legs hooking around his waist in a desperate cling. He caught you effortlessly, his strong frame absorbing the impact like it was nothing, one gloved hand sliding under your thigh and bottom to support you securely, the other carding gently through your soft hair, fingers threading with a soothing rhythm.
With a quiet kick, he closed the door behind him, shutting out the world, and walked you further into the apartment until he stood in the quiet living room, your bodies pressed close in that enveloping hold that there was absolutely no space between you two.
You stayed like that for a long time, face buried in the crook of his neck, inhaling the familiar scent of leather and smoke that you'd clung to in memories. The sobs came harder now, raw and happy, huge tears soaking into his jacket as relief flooded you.
His fingers carefully carded through your scalp like a soothing caress and he kept you cradled in his arms. “Shhhh, it’s okay…”
“Y-You're… You’re really h-here,” you managed between hiccups, pulling back just enough to search his face.
"I-I thought-… I called every day, and nothing..."
He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through his chest, a mix of heartfelt and light. "I know, kitten. Heard every word.”
“I texted every day t-too.” A brutal hiccup left your throat which caused his expression to twitch a little, the sight of you looking so lost making his heart ache.
“Read every letter afterwards. Couldn't risk reading and forming the urge to reply during the quarrel; too deep under.”
An embarrassed blush crept up your neck as you realized he also listened to your long speech just now. “The call… I thought it was in voicemail…”
His smile grew wider. More softer than his usual, cocky one. “It was the most beautiful set words I’ve ever heard.” His hand in your hair came to your face, gently wiping your tears that still continued to stream unchecked from the corner of your eyes. “I almost broke down myself.”
You punched his arm at his ridiculous remark. “Liar!” He was never the emotional type. The idea of it was ridiculous. But something about the look currently in his eyes made you believe otherwise.
“Hahah, am I, now?” A gentle chuckle rumbled in his chest, still caressing your face like he just returned to the most precious treasure he’s ever possessed. “But damn, that flower shop story? Tara's got better game than I thought." His free hand rubbed your back in slow circles, grounding you. "Missed you more than you can image. Syndicate's a mess, but getting back to this…?” He brushed his nose against yours affectionately, “…Worth every second."
You laughed through the tears, swiping at your cheeks. "Shut up, you big idiot. Seven months? I aged a DECADE!" But your hold tightened, unwilling to let go, the ache finally easing in his warmth.
You stared at him a little longer, wanting to commit every facial detail of him before finally, FINALLY, mushing your lips against his, still held up in his arms. A pleased hum left him, one he didn’t know he was holding until now, tilting his head towards yours to deepen the kiss as all the tension left him.
A kiss full of reunion.
A kiss that poured out all both of your pent-up yearning for one another. Reflecting how much you two missed each other.
After a while of just simply relishing your mouth pressing his, he asks, "Wanna go lie down together?" his voice murmuring against your hair, eyes soft with unspoken promises, lips still brushing against yours.
You smiled through your glassy eyes, nodding as peace settled in. "I would love that… Very much." You pressed your mouth back towards his, reluctant to even have your lips apart from his.
He walked you to your room in the apartment, every step a quiet homecoming, and in that moment, after MONTHS, your aching want was now fulfilled.