「 bewitched 」 ᴋᴀʏɴ x ᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Chapter XIX

“Hey, does this look okay?”

You blinked blearily, staring up from your mug of half-drunk coffee at the man pacing across the living room in front of you. Sylas was standing near the mirror by the hallway, twisting a little from side to side as he checked his outfit under the soft morning light filtering through the blinds. He was wearing a deep navy button-up, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of sleek black jeans that somehow made him look both effortlessly rugged and strangely... nervous.

You raised a brow, then set your mug down on the table. “That’s like, the third shirt you’ve tried on.”

“I know,” Sylas muttered, tugging at the collar and frowning. “The others made me look like I’m trying too hard.”

“Newsflash,” you said, suppressing a grin, “you are trying too hard.”

Sylas shot you a look. “Says the guy who still folds his underwear before a date.”

“That’s basic hygiene and preparedness!”

“You alphabetize your Spotify playlists.”

You pointed at him. “Low blow.”

He snorted, finally seeming to relax for a second as he faced you again. “Seriously though... I want to look decent. It’s Lux after all.”

At that, your smile softened. You didn’t know Lux personally, but you knew of her. Sylas talked about her often, unintentionally, sometimes when you’d be eating dinner or folding laundry together. He’d mention the way she giggled at the dumbest memes, how she’d take random candid photos of the sky and send them to him with cheesy captions, and how her laugh made him forget about the rest of the world for a while.

You’d never seen him look like this for anyone before. Nervous, but excited. On edge, but... hopeful.

“You look fine,” you said honestly. “You’ve got the whole ‘scruffy dangerous bad boy with a heart of gold’ vibe going on.”

Sylas stared at you through the mirror, lips twitching. “...Should I shave?”

That caught you mid-sip of your coffee. You choked.

Hard.

A wet splurt of coffee mist sprayed across your hoodie sleeve as you coughed violently, trying not to laugh and die at the same time. “W-What?!”

Sylas turned around, expression caught between smug and exasperated. “My face, asshole. My face. God.”

You were already wheezing, trying to stifle your laughter behind a fist. “You could’ve led with that, you know?”

Sylas grunted, picked up the nearest pillow on the couch, and chucked it squarely at your head. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

You caught the pillow before it slammed into your face and held it dramatically over your heart. “I was just surprised! You’ve never asked if you should shave for anyone before.”

“Yeah, well... she’s different.”

That made you pause.

Sylas didn’t often show his soft side. Even when he was joking around or teasing you endlessly, there was a hardness in him that never completely disappeared. Like something deep-seated, something worn and weathered by life. But now, standing there in a clean shirt with flushed cheeks and a hopeful glint in his eyes... he looked younger. Like someone who hadn’t been burned by the world so much.

You leaned back into the couch, letting your smile turn a little more serious. “You really like her, huh?”

He met your gaze. “I do.”