「 bewitched 」 ᴋᴀʏɴ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Chapter XVI

Evicted.

The bold, accusatory letters on the notice taped to your apartment door stared back at you, their permanence sinking in as you processed the reality in front of you. The word felt oddly muted, like a faint echo bouncing in an empty room. After everything else that had happened, it was hard to even feel surprised.

Your eyes traced the details on the eviction notice as if searching for some fine print that could give you a way out. But there wasn’t one; you knew that well enough. Living paycheck to paycheck was no easy feat, especially on a part-time job that barely covered basic necessities, let alone unexpected costs. The last few weeks had been spent with Sylas, him insisting that you stay with him "just until you got things sorted." But relying on him felt like a weight, like you were imposing too much on a friend who had already given so much.

You tried to calm your mind, thinking of what options you had left. The thought of asking your parents for help floated through your mind, but it filled you with an even heavier dread. They had never really been there for you, not emotionally, and certainly not financially. In college, you’d managed to scrape by on your own, relying on scholarships, part-time work, and the occasional odd job. They had always said they were “too busy,” or that it was “time for you to learn responsibility.” Reaching out to them now felt like grasping at straws, but you couldn’t ignore that this was a last resort.

Taking out your phone, you dialed their number, each ring dragging the silence longer and tighter around you. You waited, hoping, yet almost expecting what came: no answer. You hung up, the weight of the rejection settling over you. That door, too, was firmly closed.

The landlord’s voice broke through your thoughts. "Look, I don’t want to be the bad guy here," he said, almost apologetically. "But if you don’t have your stuff out by the end of the week, I’ll have to toss it."

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, unwilling to let any vulnerability show. "I understand. I'll get it done."

Turning away, you let out a slow breath, trying to summon some semblance of a plan. You would manage, somehow. Even if you had to figure it out alone, you would get through this.

You were knee-deep in half-packed boxes and scattered belongings, the quiet of the apartment now feeling vast and almost hollow as you tried to sort through your things, making mental lists of what was essential and what could be left behind. The minutes seemed to blur together as you worked, your mind an uneasy mix of focused and numb.

Then your phone rang. You glanced at the screen to see Sylas’ name, and for a second, you considered ignoring it. But you knew he’d only get more persistent if he thought something was wrong.

You picked up, trying to keep your voice steady. “Hey, Sylas.”

“[Name],” he replied, his tone immediately curious. “You sound... off. What’s going on?”

There was a pause on your end as you wrestled with the words, debating if you should tell him the whole truth. Part of you didn’t want to drag him further into this mess, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d figure it out sooner or later. With a reluctant sigh, you spoke.

“I… got an eviction notice,” you admitted quietly, eyes focused on the floor as if it would somehow soften the confession. “It’s just been hard to keep up with rent on part-time work. I was hoping I’d have more time to get everything sorted, but they want me out by the end of the week.”

Sylas didn’t answer immediately, and you took the silence as a cue to continue, hesitant but determined. “Look, I hate asking for help, but maybe… maybe I could borrow a little from you. I’ll pay you back once I graduate and start working full-time. I just—”

But before you could even finish, Sylas interrupted, his voice firm. “No. You’re not paying me back.”

“Wait, what?” You frowned, surprised by the sudden shift in his tone.

“You’re not borrowing anything,” he said, unyielding. “You’re coming to stay with me, for as long as you need to. End of story.”

“But Sylas,” you protested, feeling the familiar pang of guilt claw at your chest. “I don’t want to keep relying on you for everything. This is… this is my responsibility.”

“And it’s my responsibility to be there for you,” he countered, a mixture of warmth and insistence threading through his words. “You don’t owe me anything, [Name]. You’ve been through enough already. Let me help, okay?”

You took a shaky breath, the tension in your chest loosening ever so slightly. For once, you let his words sink in, feeling the weight of them settle like an anchor.

“Thank you,” you murmured, the words barely above a whisper.

“Anytime,” Sylas replied softly. “Now, let’s get you out of there and into a place where you don’t have to worry about all this.”

And for the first time in a long while, you felt a flicker of relief. Maybe, just maybe, you didn’t have to carry everything on your own.

By the time Sylas pulled up outside your building, you had managed to pack up most of your things, boxing up essentials and leaving behind the odds and ends that wouldn’t fit or didn’t seem worth bringing along. You glanced around the apartment one last time, a pang of bittersweet nostalgia settling in; this place held so many memories, both good and bad.

Sylas knocked on the door lightly, but the moment you opened it, he saw the weariness etched on your face and pulled you into a brief, comforting hug.

“Come on, [Name],” he said, his voice warm yet practical. “Let’s get you out of here.”

He led you down to his car, helping carry the heavier boxes without a single complaint. The silence was comfortable, each of you respecting the other’s need for peace amidst the chaos. Once everything was loaded, you took one last look at the building before getting in.

As he started driving, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander. The city outside the window felt strangely distant, the neon lights and passing strangers a blur. There was a part of you that felt like this was a step backward, a reminder of the weight you hadn’t wanted to put on anyone else. But in the quiet company of Sylas, with the hum of the car grounding you, it was hard not to feel a little bit of relief.

Sylas seemed to sense the turmoil beneath your calm exterior. Without taking his eyes off the road, he spoke. “I know this wasn’t part of the plan, but you’re not alone in this, okay? Lean on me. That’s what friends are for.”

You managed a small smile, his words bringing a warmth that countered the lingering sadness. “Thank you, Sylas. Really. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He chuckled, shrugging as if it was no big deal. “Don’t mention it. Besides, now I’ve got an excuse to make you try all those weird new recipes I’ve been experimenting with.”

Despite everything, you found yourself laughing, the sound a little lighter than you’d expected. For the first time in weeks, there was a flicker of hope, a reminder that, even in the darkest of times, you weren’t completely alone.