Chapter 5

• CYRIS:-/
• I stared at the outfit laid out on the chair—the nicest thing I owned, which wasn’t saying much. A pair of jeans and a blue shirt Ruby had insisted I take when she’d gone on one of her thrift shop hauls. I’d never worn it before; it felt too good for someone like me. But tonight, I didn’t have much choice.
• Just dinner, I told myself, pacing the room for what felt like the hundredth time. My heart raced, my palms sweaty as I ran a hand through my hair. Why had I even agreed to this? Dinner with Darius Evergreen—the man who probably spent more on one of his suits than I made in a month.
• I sighed, giving the outfit one last glance before grabbing it and heading to the shower.
• The hot water helped, a little. It was easier to focus on the mundane—washing my hair, scrubbing my skin clean—than the tornado of anxiety swirling in my chest. But when I slipped into the jeans and buttoned up the shirt, that tension crept back in.
• I stood in front of the mirror, studying my reflection. The jeans fit surprisingly well, hugging my legs in a way that felt strange but not bad. The blue shirt brought out the color of my eyes—or at least that’s what Ruby had said when she’d handed it to me.
• “Okay,” I muttered to the mirror. “You look... decent. You can do this.”
• But sitting down to wait was torture. My leg bounced, the silence of my apartment pressing down on me. The phone Darius had given me sat on the table, taunting me with its presence. It still didn’t feel real, having something so nice just handed to me.
• When the chime came, I jumped so hard I nearly knocked over the chair. My hands shook as I picked up the phone.
• “I’m outside.”
• The words were simple, but they sent a wave of nerves crashing through me. I grabbed my keys, locked the door, and stepped outside before I could talk myself out of it.
• The sight of Darius leaning casually against his car stole the air from my lungs. He looked... perfect. A black shirt that clung to his broad chest and arms, jeans that somehow looked tailored, and a calm confidence I could never hope to match.
• “Cyrus,” he said, his voice warm as he opened the passenger door for me. “You look good.”
• Heat rushed to my face, and I ducked my head as I slid into the car. “Thanks,” I mumbled, my hands fidgeting in my lap.
• Darius got in on the driver’s side, the soft click of the door grounding me for a moment. The car smelled like him—clean, expensive, with a hint of something warm and woodsy. Darius leaned forward over me, and my eyes widened wondering what he was up to. "Seat belt." he simply said. I heard a click and he returned to his seat. "Oh."
• The silence stretched as we pulled onto the street. I could feel his eyes flicking toward me now and then, like he was waiting for me to say something.
• “You okay?” His voice was low, gentle, and I hated how it made my chest tighten.
• “Yeah,” I lied, forcing a smile. “Just... not used to this kind of thing.”
• He chuckled, the sound rich and easy. “It’s dinner, Cyrus. I want you to be free with me, don't get too nervous."
• Just dinner. Right. Like everything about this wasn’t completely out of my depth. I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur together, but all I could think about was him. How calm he looked, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift.
• I stole a glance at him, my stomach twisting. What did he even see in me? Why had he gone out of his way to do all this?
• The car turned down a quieter street, and I realized I hadn’t asked where we were going. Not that it mattered. I wasn’t sure I’d survive the night without embarrassing myself anyway.
• I clenched my hands in my lap, taking a deep breath. Just dinner, I told myself again, trying to ignore the way my heart wouldn’t stop racing.
• Darius :-)
• The moment we walked into the restaurant, I noticed the way Cyrus’s steps faltered just slightly. His head tilted back, his wide eyes taking in the high ceilings, the elegant chandeliers that shimmered like stars, and the soft, golden glow of the place. It was subtle, but there was something endearing about the awe on his face, as if he’d stepped into another world.
• I didn’t say anything at first, just watched him take it all in. His reactions were genuine, unguarded, and it was hard not to feel a strange warmth at the sight. It was a reminder of why I’d invited him here in the first place—to spend time with him, away from the chaos of work and obligations.
• The host greeted us with the usual polite smile, leading us through the restaurant toward one of the private dining rooms at the back. I noticed Cyrus slowing his pace again, his gaze fixed on something to the left. I followed his line of sight and couldn’t help but smile.
• The aquarium.
• It stretched across the wall like a living piece of art, vibrant with colorful fish weaving between coral formations. The way Cyrus’s lips parted slightly, his eyes bright with fascination—it was a look I hadn’t seen on him before. His usual guarded expression had melted away, leaving something softer, more vulnerable.
• “Would you prefer to sit out here instead?” I asked, keeping my voice light.
• Cyrus turned to me, blinking in surprise. “What?”
• I nodded toward the aquarium. “You seem to like the view. We can take a table by it if you want.”
• He hesitated, his cheeks coloring faintly. “I don’t want to be a bother—”
• “You’re not,” I said simply, motioning for the host to pause. “Let’s sit here.”
• The host didn’t miss a beat, leading us to a table near the aquarium. I pulled out Cyrus’s chair for him, watching as he sat down with an awkward murmur of thanks, his eyes drifting back to the tank almost immediately.
• Once we were settled, the menus arrived, and I opened mine, glancing at Cyrus. He was staring at his, his brows furrowed as he scanned the options.
• “See anything you like?” I asked, keeping my tone casual.
• He looked up, biting his lip. “I don’t know. There’s... a lot.”
• The way he said it—quiet, almost hesitant—made something twist in my chest. It was clear he wasn’t used to places like this, where the dishes were named in French or Italian and the descriptions read more like poetry than a menu.
• I leaned closer, not wanting him to feel overwhelmed. “How about I order for us?”
• His eyes met mine, and for a moment, he looked like he might argue. But then he nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “Okay.”
• I gave the waiter our order, choosing a variety of dishes I thought he’d enjoy, then turned back to Cyrus. He was watching the aquarium again, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the fish darted back and forth.
• It was a small thing, but it made me pause. There was something almost childlike in his expression, a quiet joy that he wasn’t trying to hide. It was a side of him I hadn’t seen before, and I found myself captivated by it.
• “You like fish?” I asked, leaning back in my chair.
• He glanced at me, his smile fading slightly as if caught off guard. “Yeah... I guess. They’re... peaceful. They don’t have to worry about anything.”
• I studied him for a moment, noting the way his fingers fidgeted slightly with the edge of the napkin on the table. There was a vulnerability to him that I’d sensed from the start, but tonight it seemed more pronounced.
• “You can relax, you know,” I said gently. “This is just dinner. No expectations, no pressure.”
• Cyrus nodded, but his eyes darted back to the aquarium, as if seeking refuge in the colorful swirls of the fish.
• When our food arrived, he seemed momentarily distracted from his nerves, his eyes widening at the spread before us. I watched as he hesitated, unsure where to start, before finally picking up his fork.
• He took a bite of the risotto, his eyes lighting up in surprise. “This is... really good.”
• I chuckled. “I’m glad you like it.”
• As we ate, I noticed how his gaze kept drifting back to the aquarium, his smile soft and unguarded. It was rare to see him so at ease, and I found myself wanting to keep him in that state, to see more of the person he was when he wasn’t weighed down by life’s burdens.
• “So,” I said after a while, setting down my fork. “If you could live anywhere, do anything, what would it be?”
• Cyrus paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. He looked at me, his brows furrowing in thought. “I don’t know. I guess... I’ve never really thought about it.”
• “No dreams? No goals?” I pressed, curious.
• He shrugged, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, sure, I have dreams. But they’re just... dreams. Not the kind of thing that actually happens.”
• “Try me.”
• He hesitated, then set his fork down, looking at the aquarium again as if the fish held the answers. “I’ve always liked the idea of having a little shop. Like a bakery or a café. Somewhere quiet, where people can come and relax.”
• It was such a simple, honest dream, and it struck me how different it was from the cutthroat world I lived in. “That sounds nice,” I said sincerely. “You’d be good at it.”
• Cyrus glanced at me, his cheeks coloring faintly. “You don’t even know if I can bake.”
• I smiled. “I have a feeling you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”
• The conversation drifted from there, growing easier as the evening went on. Cyrus seemed to relax more with each passing minute, his laughter soft but genuine as we talked about everything from food to the ridiculous antics of the fish in the tank.
• By the time we finished dessert, I realized I hadn’t stopped smiling once. Watching him, seeing the way he lit up over the simplest things—it was a reminder of how much I’d taken for granted in my own life.
• As we left the restaurant, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet satisfaction. Tonight wasn’t just about dinner. It was about showing Cyrus that he mattered, that someone saw him, cared for him.
• And judging by the way his smile lingered as we walked to the car, I’d like to think I succeeded.
• As we stepped out of the restaurant, the night air was crisp, carrying a faint hint of the sea. Cyrus walked beside me, his gaze cast downward, but there was a softness to his expression that I hadn’t seen before. The dinner had gone better than I could have hoped—he’d laughed, relaxed, and for once, he didn’t seem so weighed down by the world.
• Still, there was something I couldn’t shake. Something about the way he’d lit up while watching the fish in the aquarium. The childlike wonder in his eyes, the way he’d fidgeted with his napkin, the soft, unguarded smiles. It had been subtle, but I couldn’t ignore it.
• Once we reached the car, I opened the passenger door for him, and he slid in with a quiet “thank you.” As I got into the driver’s seat and started the engine, I glanced over at him. He was looking out the window, his hands fidgeting with the edge of his sleeve now.
• “Cyrus,” I began, keeping my tone gentle. “Can I ask you something?”
• His head turned toward me, his brows furrowing slightly. “Yeah?”
• I hesitated for a moment, carefully choosing my words. “At the restaurant, when you were watching the aquarium… you seemed really happy. Almost... free, in a way. It made me wonder—have you ever heard of something called little space?”
• His frown deepened, and I could see him processing the term. “Little space?” he echoed, clearly unsure.
• “It’s part of a lifestyle,” I explained, keeping my voice calm and open. “Some people find comfort in letting go of adult responsibilities for a while and embracing a more childlike mindset. It’s not about being immature—it’s about feeling safe, cared for, and free to enjoy the simple things without judgment.”
• Cyrus’s cheeks flushed, and he looked down at his lap, his fingers twisting together. “I... I don’t know. That sounds… different. I mean, is it even normal?” His voice was quiet, almost hesitant, as if he were afraid of the answer.
• I reached over, placing a hand on his gently. “It’s completely normal, Cyrus. A lot of people find it comforting. For some, it’s a way to cope with stress or anxiety. For others, it’s just something that feels right for them. There’s no right or wrong way to explore it.”
• He glanced at my hand on his, then back up at me, his eyes searching mine. “Do you think... I might be like that? In little space, I mean?”
• “You might,” I said softly. “There were moments tonight where it seemed like you were letting yourself just... be. Like when you were watching the fish, or when you smiled over dessert. It was like you weren’t worrying about anything else. Did it feel that way to you?”
• He nodded slowly, his lips pressing together as he thought. “Yeah, I guess it did. I just... I’ve never thought about it before.”
• I gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “There’s no pressure to label anything or dive into it if you’re not ready. But if it’s something you’re curious about, I’d be happy to help you explore it. In a way that’s safe and comfortable for you.”
• His cheeks darkened, and he ducked his head. “You’d... do that for me?”
• “Of course,” I said without hesitation. “I care about you, Cyrus. If this is something that might make you happy, I want to support you.”
• He looked at me again, his expression a mix of vulnerability and something that looked like hope. “I don’t even know where to start,” he admitted.
• “That’s okay,” I assured him. “We can take it slow. Maybe start with some simple things—like finding out what makes you feel comfortable or happy when you’re in that headspace. There’s no rush.”
• Cyrus’s lips curved into a shy smile, and he nodded. “Okay. I... I think I’d like that.”
• The warmth in his voice made my chest tighten, and I returned his smile. “Good. Let’s take it one step at a time.”
• As I drove us back to his apartment, I couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of contentment. Tonight had been about more than just dinner—it had been about understanding Cyrus on a deeper level. And now, seeing that flicker of hope in his eyes, I knew I’d do whatever it took to help him find the happiness he deserved.