“After what you said yesterday, I went home and did some research.” I hold out my tablet and immediately regret the colourful stickers I’d spent hours decorating it with when I first bought it.
I flip it over so it’s screen up instead and watch as he slowly reaches out to take it.
“I looked up new scanners, new systems, new firewalls, everything.”
He starts flicking through all my saved screenshots, articles, even the little notes I’d made.
We’re silent as he scrolls and keeps scrolling. I’m honestly waiting for him to stop and scoff, laugh, fling the tablet away, and tell me it’s useless. Inadequate.
But he doesn’t.
He actually takes his time looking over everything, so long that my legs start to ache, and I find myself edging onto the corner of my desk.
Eventually, he reaches the end. He pauses over the last note I typed out, then places my tablet down next to me on the desk, and looks up.
“You did all that research in one night?”
Why do I suddenly feel embarrassed? Why does it feel hot? Why are his blue eyes a little too soft and a little too intent?
“And half a day,” I say, finding myself nodding for absolutely no reason at all.
“It’s very impressive.”
It’s... Did he just say...impressive?
Is this a different Sylvan? Does he have a twin too? I definitely didn’t wake up. I’m dreaming. Or I’ve been drugged…
“Are you okay?” he asks, brows furrowed. “You look a little flushed?”
I take a deep, deep breath. “Sylvan.” His eyes lock with mine. “All you did yesterday was tell me how inadequate my systems are, how I’ve been hacked, data’s been stolen, and something about the dark web. And then you start today by saying my research isimpressiveand asking how I am?”
He frowns, appearing confused. “You sound... mad?”
I blink at him. “You do realise how telling me all those things made me feel, right?”
When he stays silent, dark brows pinching further together, I realise he doesn’t understand. Not at all.
I sigh, losing some of my frustration. “You might not have meant to upset me—”
“I upset you?” he echoes. “I really upset you by saying those things?” He sounds so worried, so lost.
I suddenly can’t keep any bite in my tone. “Forget it, it’s silly.” I force my lips into a smile as I start to stand. “Just let me know when you’re done—”
“I’m sorry,” he blurts, standing with me.
We’re a little too close, so I sit back on the desk, meaning he’s towering over me.
“I didn’t mean toupsetyou.” He winces a little over that word, and my chest aches. “I’ve always been like this. I say things as they are. I don’t lie. Everything is either black or white. Good or bad. My packmates know me, they know I’m like this. I forget it’s not normal, that I’m not normal.”
Oh, I don’t like that atall. My fingers grip the desk as he keeps going.
“You are not your systems. They’re not a reflection of you, and I apologise if that’s how you took my criticisms.”
That’s... exactly how I took it.
“You’re kind and helpful, you think about others before yourself—”
“How would you even know that?” I cut in. “You’ve not left this room.”
