〖 Love is an Illusion 〗➻❥ LYNEY × READER

♦ Chapter 9 ♦

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The next day, Lyney is busy preparing for his upcoming show, so you spend your hours organizing your home. 

While you sweep the floor, you think about yesterday, and about Lyney. There really isn't supposed to be any room left for confusion, but you can't help but wonder what Lyney really thinks of you, his mysterious ambience only adding to the enigma. You remember letting your feelings out in the garden while he wrapped you in his arms, comforting you. Every word you uttered was absorbed by him; it was a nice change of pace. 

After sweeping the floors, you proceed to your bedroom, and begin organizing drawers and old boxes. A layer of dust is blown into your face as you cough it away. The box you hold is labeled mementos. 

Curious, you slip your fingers into the cardboard, looking around for anything of importance. Most of the contents of the box are simply old pictures of you in high school. But you suddenly feel a cold, rectangular metal object that grabs your attention. 

Pulling it out of the memento box, you see that it's yet another picture; but this time, it's of a family. You see your own young self standing proudly, but behind you are two unfamiliar figures. A male and a female adult smile broadly each with one hand on your shoulders. As hard as you try, you can't recognize them. Puzzled, you place the photo aside and finish cleaning the room. 

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Lyney stands up, brushing his legs and wiping the sweat off his forehead. Five feet away, Lynette stares at an arrangement of decorative props. She holds up her fingers in replication of a camera and closes one of her eyes as she observes the pile of props. 

"Chic," she whispers, "or grand?" 

Lyney walks over to her and puts his hands on his hips, eyeing the decor. "How about both?" He smiles at her and pats her head. "Let's take a break and get a snack." 

Lynette puts her arms down and nods. "Okay." 

As the two stroll down the street, they pass by shops and restaurants seeping with customers. Lynette glances at a vendor selling fried fish, but quickly shakes her head and faces her front. 

"Hey, don't feel too bad," Lyney consoles her. "We have to keep away from oil, but there's lots of other tasty snacks."  He points to a bakery at the end of the street.

"How about some macarons?" 

Lynette smiles at her brother. "I'll race you," she says, bolting. 

"H-Hey, not fair!" Lyney takes off after her. 

Not far away, a woman watches the siblings, sipping a cup of tea. Her expression is nothing less than that of a bored numen, unamused with her simplistic vision of the world. Her eyes drift across the street, following Lyney and Lynette as they enter the bakery. The woman places her tea on the table and stands up gracefully. She leaves the scene, closely followed by her business-suited bodyguard.

Meanwhile, Lyney and Lynette sit at a booth across from each other, snacking on a plate of macarons. 

"So," the former begins. "I was thinking of shaking it up a little for our next show." 

"Isn't that your goal for every show?" Lynette reaches for the plate. 

"You're right, but I meant even more so than usual." Lyney finishes his macaron and wipes his fingers with a napkin. "What's something the audience wouldn't expect at all?" 

Lynette tilts her head in thought, and after a few seconds, she leans forward and looks at Lyney. "You're always prepared." She leans back into the cushion. "Even when you're not, you find a way to adapt," she says, taking a bite of her macaron. 

"Ah," Lyney says, smiling and clasping his hands. "I see what you mean." He, too, leans back into his seat, sighing. "It's risky, though. Faking a foiled show? What happens if the show is foiled for real?" 

"Simple." Lynette pops the rest of her macaron into her mouth. "Adapt and overcome." 

Lyney laughs softly. "You make it sound so easy." 

As the siblings continue to brainstorm ideas for their next show, a customer enters the bakery, the bell above the door ringing pleasantly. As she passes behind them, however, a chill travels up Lyney's spine. He feels his skin on edge as the woman orders a croissant at the counter. 

"Lyney?" Lynette asks, concerned. "What's wro—" 

Lyney utters a sharp shh! as he stands up. "Let's go. We have a show to plan." 

Lynette looks confused, but follows her brother out of the bakery. Once the door closes, the bell above rings once again. 

Out of the corner of her eye, the woman watches Lyney and Lynette walk away from the window. A slow and sly grin stretches from one side of her face to the other.