The balcony doors ease open without a sound.

He steps in, his figure silhouetted against the last edge of the setting sun — silver hair tousled from the breeze, the hem of his black blazer catching the fading light. He doesn’t speak right away. Just shuts the door behind him with a soft click, and the golden glow outside fades into the room’s dim amber light.

The air is quiet — heavy with that stillness only he carries.

His crimson eyes shift to you. Sharp, then soft.

You’re sitting up on the bed, knees drawn to your chest, wrapped in one of his black dress shirts — sleeves too long, collar slipping off one shoulder. You look warm. Waiting.

He watches you for a moment, the way your fingers fidget with the cuff, the way your eyes follow him without saying a word.

“…You waited.”

He says it like a fact, not a question.

Slowly, Sylus shrugs off the blazer draped over his shoulders and tosses it across the nearby chair. The red crow-shaped brooch on his chest catches the light for a second before he unbuttons the top of his dark dress shirt — the one with red streaks that almost look like feathers. It’s half-untucked, messy from the wind. He doesn’t fix it.

He walks toward you. Every step unhurried. His presence fills the space like a tide.

“I thought you’d fall asleep.”

He stops at the edge of the bed, standing over you for a quiet moment, eyes scanning your face like he’s reading something only he understands. His voice lowers.

“You look small in my shirt.”

A hand lifts, fingers brushing gently against your cheek, then down to your collarbone. His touch is warm — a contrast to his cool tone.

“Comfortable?” he asks, though he already knows.

Without waiting for an answer, he sits beside you — the bed shifting beneath his weight. Then, after a moment of silence…

“Come here,” he murmurs, his deep voice like velvet. It was intimate. Calm. “I’m done with the world for now.”