𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐅

𝐈𝐕.

FAST FOOTSTEPS REVERBERATED THROUGH THE HALL, A STACCATO RHYTHM ECHOING THE URGENCY THAT FUELED THE SPRINT.

In the midst of the clatter, Theodore's voice sliced through the air, a desperate plea laced with frustration.

"Cyrus! Bloody Hell, stop!" Theodore's command echoed, a futile attempt to halt his soulmate's determined sprint. Through their bond, Theodore could feel the tumultuous emotions emanating from Cyrus, a storm of distress that demanded acknowledgment.

The urgency in Theodore's plea was matched by the echoing turmoil within their bond. Amaryllis, astute as ever, had allowed them this moment of solitude, recognizing the need for the two soulmates to confront the unresolved specters of their shared past.

"Just go back, I just need air!" Cyrus's response carried with it an unconvincing veneer. The distress that Theodore sensed through their bond told a different story — a narrative of internal conflict, regret, and the weight of unresolved history. Cyrus grappled with a younger version of himself, a self that had inflicted pain upon his soulmate before their paths could fully intertwine. The dissonance between who he was then and who he had become disgusted him, a revelation that he had buried deep within the recesses of his mind, hoping it would remain forever obscured.

Yet, the past, relentless as it is, has a way of resurfacing. Memories, like a persistent specter, demanded acknowledgment. Movies and books acted as a trigger, wielding the power to tap into the depths of his consciousness, forcing Cyrus to confront the forgotten fragments of his own history. The sprint through the echoing halls became not just a physical escape but a desperate attempt to outrun the haunting echoes of his younger self, to find a breath of air in the midst of the suffocating memories.

The tension in the air was palpable as Theodore furrowed his brows, frustration etching lines on his face. With swift determination, he tackled Cyrus to the ground, pinning him down, a forceful attempt to halt the desperate escape.

"God dammit, Cy. Just listen to me!" Theodore's voice carried the weight of irritation, a panting rhythm betraying the physical exertion of the chase. All he wanted was to have a conversation, to tell Cyrus that it was alright, to offer apologies for not being there when he needed them most. He wished to convey that neither he nor Amaryllis had been present to ice the bruises of Cyrus's childhood.

"Let me go!" Cyrus thrashed beneath Theodore's hold, a raw outpouring of emotion that reduced him to a semblance of a child once more. Despite Theodore's physical advantage, it was as if the younger version of Cyrus had resurfaced, unbridled and desperate.

"Your crying your shit out and on the verge of a mental breakdown, what sane person will leave their soulmate like that?" Theodore's stern tone softened as he continued, gazing into Cyrus's eyes. "Look at me, Cy."

"No." Cyrus's refusal was met with Theodore's eye roll. Unyielding, Theodore gripped Cyrus's face, forcing him to meet his gaze.

"You know better than to say no."

As Theodore surveyed Cyrus's tear-streaked face, puffy and red from the torrent of emotions, a familiar softness crept into his expression. The vulnerability in Cyrus's admission cut through the air. "Why are you crying?"

"...hate myself," Cyrus confessed, laying bare the turmoil that churned within him. The pain of witnessing his younger self inflict harm on his soulmates was a haunting reminder of a past he detested, a past that transported him back to a home where love was a foreign concept. The visceral emotions made his head spin, thrusting him back into a realm of memories he despised.

Cyrus loathed the echoes of his past, the stark contrast to the life he had fought to create, one where love, genuine and profound, had found a place. As the soulmate of The Girl Who Lived and The Boy Who Kills — a title that might sound ironic and cheesy — Cyrus had invested blood, sweat, and tears to ensure he stood in the position he occupied in the present, far removed from the loveless home that once defined him.