Figure 8 Ch. 08

"Oh god, Sylar, watch out!"

Sylar stared at him like a little boy. A banana in his hand.

"What are you doing here?" Greg muttered, "You're not scheduled for today."

Those green eyes were light and lost.

"Uhm, Alexandria said to meet her here after her shoot. We were going to get drinks."

"After the shoot? You're early."

Sylar gave a coy smile. "Yeah, well I wanted to watch."

"Pervert."

"Only as much as the next straight man."

Greg rolled his eyes and made his way back to the set. He didn't get far before Sylar called out.

"Hey, where's Emma?"

"Nick sent her home. Why?"

He turned just in time to see Sylar staring at the banana in his hand. Sylar's knuckles turned white for a second before he released the yellow fruit. Something crossed that boy's face that made Greg reconsider stopping him. That and the picture of Emma wobbling her way towards the door. As Sylar muttered something about letting Alexandria know he wouldn't make it, Greg just nodded. Instinct told him to back down.

Sylar gripped onto the banana like a baton as he raced down the steps. He had a vague sense of which direction she'd gone it. Stupid girl, he thought, as he felt the banana bruise under his tight grip. He'd dated a girl who had low blood sugar all the time. She was constantly snacking on low calorie treats and popping candies in her mouth in between sets to make sure she could keep up with filming. There's nothing less attractive than seeing a girl play dead while she rides you.

As he ran down the street, he caught a glimpse of Emma's bag. She was turning the corner to her bus stop. Something prevented him from shouting her name. He didn't want to embarrass her. So instead he sped up, like a marathon runner. The thunderous sound of his running barely alerted Emma. She didn't even turn around until he tapped her on the shoulder.

Emma's body gave a little hop. Sylar noticed the headphones in her ears and her phone in her hand. There was sadness all over her face before it turned quizzical.

"Why'd you run off so fast?"

"I thought I imagined you..."

Her voice was barely audible, but Sylar managed to catch it anyway.

"What?"

"I... you... um...."

Her face flushed as she realized there was no way platonic way to explain her thoughts. Instead she blushed and took a step back. Her foot rubbed against a broken cement block, and she fell backwards. Again. "Crap," she cried out and reflexively reached for Sylar.

"Got you."

Sylar pulled her from her leaning stance and towards him. The fresh scent of her filled his nose. Always unlike any other.

"Thanks."

"No problem... oh, here. Eat this."

Sylar was embarrassed for a second. The banana had turned bruised and splotchy in his hold. But then Emma's eyes lit up gratefully. With a loud grumble, her stomach announced her hunger for the first time since Adam left.

"Thanks."

She took the fruit and peeled it delicately, her fingernails never penetrated the skin. In three large gulps, she finished the banana and walked to the corner of the street to toss it into the trashcan. Sylar never left her side. With a full mouth, she mumbled another thank you.

"No problem... but you got some... thing on the corner of your lip."

Sylar chuckled as she wiped like a little child attacking their face with the palm of their hands. It made Sylar smile. Simple things. Little things. The forgotten pictures of life — that's what she reminded him of. He never thought he'd enjoy a girl eat a banana in a way that made most guys lose their hardon after the first bite.

It almost didn't matter that he noticed how far down the banana she could bite.

Almost.

But the other half of him enjoyed the show. After all, most of the girls he spent time with, girls like Alexandria, Ashlynn and Kendall, would've made a show of eating the banana. If there was something on their lips, they would've taken their time to lick it off. He was always so endless aroused by then.

But Emma had chomped the banana down in three bites. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, the way normal people did. Normal people who didn't have their lives revolved around sex.

Emma looked back at him expectantly. "Do I still have—"

Her stomach growled loudly again. She clutched at it with her small hands and groaned.

"Do you want to go get something to eat?"

Even Sylar was speechless at how those words had fallen so casually from his mouth. He rubbed the back of his neck, playing with the tag on his collar before smiling shyly back at Emma. Her eyes were wide, almost fearful. The look killed him. He dropped his facial muscles and tried to play if off.

"Not like a date, but just... friends?"

She looked so terrified, he felt his heart drop out of his mouth and onto the floor. Why did he even bother? Seeing her again, in all her innocence and beauty, always made him forget how much he frightened her. It was that small flash of clarity in her bright eyes, like the first flicker of light in a dark room, before they turned back to a dull fearfulness he'd come to know.

But then her stomach was talking again like a howling wind.

Hesitation turned to embarrassment as Emma lowered her head. In the instances where her stuttering drove him mad, he felt his heart sore at her response.

"Um, okay, but can we get out of this area?"

"Yeah, of course." He let her continue walking as he added, "By the way, this is my treat."

They found a small Chinese cafe that had a happy hour special. It had dim lights and reminded Sylar too much of a hospital. He insisted on going further down, to the food court on Market street or somewhere that had more than a 82 score on their health report, but Emma refused.

"It's cheap and I don't want to walk anymore," she replied.

So he followed her in.

Since there was no one else, they were immediately seated in a booth and tossed two wet laminated menus. They stuck to the table without budging an inch. Emma gingerly picked at her menu until it faced straight up so she could read. Sylar watched as she scanned the menu, unaware. Delight crossed her face as she pointed at something and said, "Oh this sounds really good..."

"Just order whatever you want."

"Are you going to eat?"

Sylar shook his head. "I ate before I came by the studio."

"Oh, I thought you were going to... then we should just go. I can eat at home."

Emma started to collect her things.

He grabbed her wrist and held her still. "Stop worrying about it. If I had a choice, I would've gone down a few more blocks to at least the Japanese place or the french cafe. But we're here and you're right, this place is cheap, so just enjoy it?"

Sylar winced. The last bit was phrased too much like a plea. But he was scared to see her walk away. For the first time, the air between them was calm and settling, like an early morning fog rolling through the forest. He wanted to keep it this way.

"Are you ready to order?"

The old Chinese waiter had his pad ready as he looked down at the strange couple.

Emma leaned back and rubbed her wrist. It felt like it was on fire. "Yeah," she murmured softly and looked back down at the menu. "I'll have the ham and eggs over rice."

"And you, sir?"

"French toast."

"Okay. Anything to drink?"

"I'm good with tea," Emma replied.

"Me too."

"Okay. So one ham and eggs over rice and one french toast. Two hot teas. Anything else?"

Sylar looked at Emma, who smiled towards the waiter and shook her head.

"Nope."

"Okay. Thank you."

The waiter picked up their menus and left them alone.

Although now without the food options and menus to pour over, silence filled the space between them. Emma kept her eyes wandering around the small café. Every inch of her that moved captivated his eye. At least there was no fear on her face. No hatred or hesitation. The way she toyed with her lips, chewing on them with childish curiosity, made him wish he was right next to her. Wish he was holding her hand so that he could feel every tremble and her breath on his neck.

Sylar shifted in his seat and coughed out a thank you when the tea came. He heard her voice do the same.

How did he get here?

Sitting across from a girl who he wanted to feel skin to skin.

"How have you been?"

Her voice cut through the silence, causing him to jump. Immediately, he reached for his cup of tea as an anchor.

"Been better," Sylar replied honestly, unable to meet her eyes. "Tired. Lazy. Just one of those weeks."

"Oh... sorry to hear that."

"It's not your fault."

Emma gave a faint smile as if she knew he was lying.

"And you? How are you and the boyfriend?"

He regretted asking that immediately, especially when her face fell. But that didn't stop the small spark of joy ignited within him. Maybe the boyfriend—

"We're okay," she said, her voice small and tiny. "Nothing new."

Sylar wondered what form of masochism he'd been subscribed to. He couldn't stop himself.

"Can I ask how you guys met? I mean, I remember him from the club and wasn't he with another girl?"

He regretted asking that as soon as her hand wiped at her eyes. They stayed wide open, as if she were trying to stop herself from crying. It was hard to tell with the way she kept her head down. The waiter came by a slid her plate over the table. The plastic clattered loudly and both were thankful for the interruption.

Emma used her as an excuse to avoid more conversation. She kept her head down the entire time, to which Sylar was mildly grateful for. He wanted to process everything before he asked another question. Whatever he said next would be drastically important, and he wanted to get it right.

As he watched her shovel food like she'd never eaten, his order came soon after. The plate of brown toast that looked nothing like he'd expected. It must've been deep fried, he thought gingerly, the thought of eating such greasy food made his stomach churn.

"You're not eating?"

Emma's plate was half cleaned.

"Is this right?"

"Yeah, Chinese style. You were expecting French toast, weren't you?"

"It's what I ordered."

"Chinese cafes never bother to translate things right. You should just try it. It's good."

"You're eaten here before?"

"No, but pretty much ever Chinese diner tastes the same."

When he didn't move, Emma reached over and pulled his plate towards her. She picked up a new set of utensils and started slathering on a lot of butter. The yellow pool that formed made Sylar's stomach churn. He watched as she cutting the toast into small bite sized squares before drizzling syrup over it. Then she pushed it back towards him. Their eyes met and hers flew wide open.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry," she gasped. "I'm so used to doing that for Adam—"

Sylar cringed. Yet something inside of him blossomed.

He was starting to see glimpses of the real Emma. Beyond her shy and evasive personality, there was a sweet, kind girl. One that he wanted to take proper time to get to know, to watch develop from a wallflower to a rose.

"It's fine. Hey, it looks more appetizing now."

She laughed.

It was a lovely sound that broke ice.

They went on making small talk, each bypassing topics that would make the other uncomfortable. Sylar didn't ask about Adam, Emma didn't ask about his career. Instead they talked about college and countries, foods and sports... Sylar enjoyed old school arcades and pinball machines while Emma secretly liked to play pool. They avoided talking about alcohol and music only after Sylar mentioned that his favorite singer was Bob Dylan and Emma regretfully admitted that she hated the sound of this voice. Anger and tension was mocking expressed, but the laughs were genuine. Anyone who overheard them would've thought they were on their first date.

Sylar felt a huge ache in his chest as he walked with Emma to her bus stop. They swayed side by side the entire time. He ached to hold her hand. It swung like a taunting pendulum until she shoved it into her pockets. They reached her stop, and she looked at him willingly, not a trace of hesitation or fear in her eyes.

"Thanks for the meal."

"You'll get home safe?" he asked, noting that the sky was beginning to darken. She was so tiny with her bookbag. He didn't want to let her go. "Maybe I should—"

"I'll be okay. The bus drops me off right at home."

Sylar frowned.

Something stirred inside of him as he debated whether it was concern or selfishness.

He just...

"I had a great time tonight," he blurted.

Shit, he thought. He'd just turned their casual encounter into a date. Or expressed his earnest wishes that it was. The more she stood there, unresponsive, the more he wanted feel her smile as his lips stayed on her face. A second was all he needed.

"Me too."

Suddenly he bent down and did what was on his mind ever since they left the cafe.

Only he didn't anticipate her move and their lips brushed together. Sweetly. Innocently. Sylar groaned as he pressed forward. He used his hands to draw her close; his palms slipped underneath her backpack and caressed her. Involuntarily, he closed his eyes. Her lips were soft, almost as if he were kissing air. The wet tip of her tongue flicked against his lower lip. She tasted of soy sauce and eggs. But that combination soon washed away as she jerked back. Her eyes looked at him, stunned.

"My bus is here," she squeaked.

It was. The exhaust of the Muni settling to let people off jolted him awake, and he stood there watching her jump on as if she were running away. Sylar felt as if he'd been doused with cold water as he watched the doors close. Emma paid her fare without a single glance out the window. Towards him.

He licked his lips, feeling the salty residue her meal. Even if she wouldn't look at him, he'd watch the bus until he could see it no more.

The bus snorted as it started moving again. Emma sat by the window where she was sure Sylar wouldn't be able to see her. He'd kissed her! Consciously and kindly, unlike any kind of kiss she had in her life. There was no forceful hunger like she was used to, not the passionate kisses she was used to having from Adam. Or the ones she'd seen Sylar give on screen. It was the kind of kiss she never thought she'd get tired of, would never get tired of tasting...

But why? Emma thought as she chewed on her lip.

A sweet aftertaste seeped into her mouth. Her small pink tongue darted out and over her lower lip. Syrup.

***

The next day, Nick called and told her to stay in. Even as she protested, he refused to let her come, citing reasons such as her health or regulations... he rambled until she finally agreed. There was no way she was going to tell him that she was scared of being in her own home. Scared of finding or never finding the reason Adam had abandoned her.

It'd been a week.

He'd never gone for so long without a response.

Emma rolled around, tucking her hand under her head. She felt the cold side of the bed with her leg. His spot. Even when they slept together, Adam had a tendency to roll away. There were times he hogged all the blankets, leaving Emma to shiver in the cold. She would have to poke him awake, or until his body relaxed, so that she could pry the sheets from his death grip.

Was it pathetic now that she rather have those cold nights?

With a muffled scream into the pillow, she knew it was.

She rubbed her face into her pillow again to release another pent up scream when her hand brushed against a crumpled piece of paper. Curling her hand around the paper, Emma rolled onto her side and unrolled the paper.

be back in 5 mins.

Fresh tears rushed to her swollen eyes. A million questions went through her head in the form of a loud scream. Emma moved face forward into the pillow again for another scream.

But then the doorbell rang.

Who was that? Mail didn't come until late afternoon... she hadn't ordered breakfast... a tiny spark of hope ignited in her as she thought of her best friend again.

Maybe he'd come back... with a damn good explanation on how five minutes became one week.

Since her sleeping tee was extra large and dropped to her mid thighs, she didn't bother with shorts. Emma sped into the living room, narrowly avoiding the sharp corners of her bookshelf and countertops. Without looking through the peephole, she flung the door open and...

"Sylar?"

The sound of metal clattered loudly against the cement floor. Emma gasped as he pushed his way into the house. His shoulders knocked into her painfully, but her eye caught the hard drives on the floor. So while Sylar stalked the inside of her house, looking for god knows what, Emma cursed and knelt down to make sure the drives were okay. They looked like they were, but she wouldn't know until she plugged them in. She hoped they weren't. Nick would kill her.

"Sylar, what are you—"

He was in front of her again. So close. The green in his eyes turned to ice, so pale they were almost blue in color. Emma held her breath. She was unable to think when he was like this again. Hadn't they made up last night? But the longer she held her breath, the more claustrophobic she felt, and oddly enough, the more she wanted to lean into Sylar for support.

Sylar's hand went to her chin and tilted it up. Emma closed her eyes to stop the tears. Her hand gripped the bag as her thoughts cluttered and cleared. Sort of. She wasn't sure how calmly she could think when Sylar looked at her like he was ready to crush her open. So her mind stopped at the last thought she remembered: She'd really wanted Adam to be at the door.

"What happened, Emma?"

His warm hand cupped her face and his thumbs stroked her eyes.

"N-n-nothing."

"Then why are you crying?"

He was angry because she was crying?

"I'm wasn't—"

"Shut up. Your eyes are red."

Emma moved her head out of his grip and closed the door behind her. She walked around him, keeping her head down. Whatever he was feeling radiated off of him like a ripple effect. The air twisted as he turned around and followed her to her office space.

"You shouldn't have dropped these," she muttered. Her voice was stone cold as she sat on the ground and took the hard drives out of the bag. "I'll get in big trouble if they're broken."

Sylar stayed by the door.

"I'll tell them it's my fault. They knew I was bringing them to you."

The startup sound of her laptop echoed throughout the room. She plugged in the drives and they produced a low hum that comforted her. Machines. That was one thing she could count on. The first hard drive turned on successfully and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her eyes flickered towards Sylar.

He was leaning against the doorframe, watching her with mild interest. The corner of his lips went up slightly, making her blush. Everything about him was captivating. She'd always known that. Even got herself to admit it every now and then, but nothing really compared to the casual way he stood there, watching her.

How could anyone look so compelling just standing there in jeans and a t-shirt? Sylar looked amazing in grey. As she turned her head to check if the drive was working, Sylar crossed his arms crossed. His forearms were profound, and the raised hem of his shirt forced her to look at his long legs.

What was it about him that made him different? Compared to the other actors that came in, Sylar had a polished and almost innocent look to his face.

"Do you want some water?" she found herself asking.

"Yeah... where's the bathroom?"

"Turn right, first room there."

"Thanks."

He left the room even though every bone in his body ached to turn around and check on her. Bringing the hard drives was a cheap move, he admitted that much, but seeing her teary-eyed had been completely unexpected. Her face was flushed, like she'd been screaming, and the hand print on her cheek made him see red. But the house was empty of Adam, or any other living person.