It was an unexpected plan to watch the New Year's fireworks with Sylus under the snow. A remark about his pet crows possibly turning into doves upon the snowy season elicited a soft chortle from him. His gentle, large hand hovered over your head, fingers lightly swiping the snow from your hair.

His caress was tender, unlike his tone as he spoke, coated with slight mockery and a hint of mischief, "Try not to be the pot calling the kettle black, sweetie."

The fireworks resonated in the scenery between you and him. It might have been one of his playful antics, as he drew a round circle of a cat's face on the snow atop the balustrade. When you asked what he had drawn, he casually answered as if it were a matter of fact, "You. Do you know what you look like right now?" His finger drew a circular shape on the forehead of the cat.

"A kitten with a temper." It was his response to your slight push and poke on his chest. He found it cute how little your strength could move him. Adorable.

Since he had kidnapped you from Zayne, the stoic doctor who cared too much about your health, he wanted you to enjoy life rather than be stuck in a hospital room for days. The relationship between you and them was norm, yet there were frequent fights over who could dominate you more. How he wished he could deepen his relationship with you.

"Not cold?" he asked, fixing the jacket you wore. With an extra motion, he wrapped a thick scarf all over your head with a light hum and playful scoff, blocking your view.

Meanwhile, Sylus was shoved away by Zayne for taking you out recklessly.

It was a fleeting moment in dark before Zayne appeared before you with concern and a scowl attached to his face. "Why didn't you answer my calls? I was worried," he said. Zayne fixed the scarf on you and cupped your face with his hands. They were warm, a comforting contrast to the cold.

His thumb traced feather-light on your upper cheeks as his forehead rested against yours, his breath tickling on your skin.

And Sylus had the urge to pull you away.