I have to admit that I am loving this adult version of Sylar even more than the boy I crushed on back in the day. He’s still a little grumpy, but he isn’t nearly as quiet as he used to be. I remember all those years ago, practically having to coax every single word out of him. My mind drifts back to the day I left Moonscliffe, the way he had talked to me then, entirely unprompted. I want conversations like that with him again. I’ve always loved his passion for the stars, the way he waxes poetic about the lore and maps out the differences between celestial myths.
We turn a bustling corner, and our knuckles casually graze once more. I glance over at my big, stoic elf, studying the sharp line of his jaw beneath his hood. Is he passionate about other things besides the night sky? I muse. Does he have other little hobbies or hidden quirks?
Over the years, I’ve hoarded every scrap of information that Isolde or Talia let slip about him. Of course, once Isolde realized I had a massive crush on her tutor, she strictly cut me off, determined that I should learn everything about Sylar on my own. But anytime she accidentally let something slip before that, I stored it away in my brain like a dragon guarding its treasure.
“Why don’t we go get drinks before the night ends?” Talia calls back, playfully tugging on Isolde’s hand.
She navigates us over to a quaint, dimly lit tavern on the edge of the market square. As we cross the threshold, I take a look at the crowded room and make an executive decision. “Why don’t you guys go find a seat, and I’ll grab us a round?” I look directly at Sylar. “Is there anything special I can order for you, Sy?”
He blinks at me, a beautifully bewildered look crossing his features. I recognize it instantly. It’s the same expression he had earlier when I took charge to ground him through his anxiety. When he continues to stare, looking thoroughly baffled by the menu options, I reach down, find his hand in the shadow of our cloaks, and give it a reassuring squeeze.
“They have a really good spiced cider here,” I offer softly. “If you don’t mind something a little sweet.”
Sylar nods eagerly. Relief flits across his face, and I realize it’s exactly what I thought. Sometimes, when the world gets too loud, he just needs someone else to make the simple decisions for him. I don’t mind that at all; in fact, I love being that extra pillar of support for the people I care about. Not that I’ve had many relationships while traveling. Especially not whenmy mind was constantly preoccupied with the handsome elf standing in front of me. But I’ve always imagined ending up with someone who genuinely enjoys being taken care of.
Talia and Isolde quickly rattle off their orders before taking Sylar by the arm and leading him toward a vacant table in the corner. I can’t help but smile at how easily we all fit together.
Once I place the order, I balance the drinks back across the room. I hand everyone their goblets, intentionally saving Sylar’s for last. With his glass safely in his hands, I slide onto the bench, scooting in right next to him so our thighs press together.
He tenses slightly, seemingly shocked by our sudden proximity. A part of me wonders just how many times I can surprise this elf before the night is over.
The tavern is a sensory overload of elven chaos. Velvet drapes hang from the exposed wooden rafters, trapping the heavy scents of roasted honey-mead, pine wax, and the earthy heat of a hundred packed bodies. Golden lantern light dances across the polished oak tables, catching the iridescent sheen of elven clothing and the glint of coin changing hands.
Next to me, Sylar’s overwhelming presence captures my full attention. Fuck, he’s so adorable for someone so large.
He sits hunched over the table, trying to make himself small, his long legs tucked awkwardly.
Sylar raises the glass goblet to his lips and takes a tentative sip. Instantly, his entire face lights up as the sweet flavor hits his tongue. He lets out a quiet, involuntary moan of satisfaction, taking another long drink, and I completely lose track of the conversation around us, just watching him enjoy it.
As if sensing the weight of my gaze, Sylar slowly turns his head to look at me. A gorgeous, dusty-pink blush creeps across his cheeks under the tavern lights. He realizes I’ve caught him, which only causes my smile to grow wider.
“Um, hi,” he says bashfully. He looks down at his goblet of spiced cider, his cheeks dusting that delicious pink. Something about that innocent greeting makes my insides light up like a solstice bonfire.
“Why, hello,” I reply playfully, leaning into his space to nudge his shoulder with mine. I deliberately press the side of my body against his, letting him feel the steady, unyielding warmth of me. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. I track the movement, my eyes lingering a second too long before tracking back up to his brown gaze.
Across the table, Talia and Isolde dive into an eager, animated conversation, completely oblivious to my heavy flirting. They’re leaning their heads together, laughing over the rims of their wine goblets, Cinder napping in Talia’s lap. Every once in a while, they glance up and giggle, making eyes with two handsome, silver-haired male elves sitting across the tavern bay. Sylar shakes his head at his sister’s antics, a fond but exasperated smile tugging at his lips, before he turns back to give me his full, undivided attention.
“Do you plan on staying here for the full two weeks?” he asks, his voice dropping into a lower, quieter register to cut through the tavern’s roar.
“Depends,” I reply, offering him a nonchalant shrug as I trace the rim of my glass.
“On what?”
“On how long you plan on staying?”
Sylar barks out a laugh. It’s half sheer surprise and half shocked delight. The sound is rich and musical, filling the small space between us.
“And what if I say I’m staying here for the full two weeks?” he challenges, a spark of playful defiance igniting in his eyes.
I shrug again, leaning in just a fraction closer, close enough to catch the scent of honey cakes and parchment that alwaysseems to follow him. “Then I guess I’m staying here for the full two weeks, too.”
He opens his mouth several times as if to ask a question, but the words fail him, his lips parting and closing silently. I watch him, captivated. I can tell something heavy is weighing on his mind, but he’s trying to hold it back, guarding himself.
That will not do. I need these two weeks for the two of us to open up and really learn each other. I want to discover every single thing there is to know about Sylar before we pack up at the end of the market. He doesn’t know I’m planning on moving back yet, but if everything goes according to plan, I want to court him openly in Moonscliffe. No more hiding. No more boundaries.
I am so incredibly tired of traveling alone with nobody but Cinder to keep me company. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love her and need her in my life, but I want someone to build a life with. A true partner to spend my nights with in bed, and to take long, quiet walks with in the evening while the rest of the world fades away.
I want to learn how to cook properly just so I can make him meals. I want to hold his hand in the crowded town square and let the whole world know that this elf is mine. I’ve spent years traveling every corner of Everend, meeting hundreds, maybe thousands of people, but not a single one of them has ever captured my attention the way Sylar has.
