Somehow I've found myself working for the Company. Still not sure how that happened but it's not something I was going to turn down either. A chance to be around all these specials? Gain their powers and fuck with their minds? What's not to love? But for now I have to do all the tedious work and the first person I get to see is Sylar. He comes
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But then he says his offers still stand and it makes me look up at him, trying to hide my confusion. Is he really just as lonely as I am? Does he actually want my company? "I don't need your charity. I don;t fucking need anything from you." I need to just get up and go. I need to not be thrilled that he still wants me over for dinner. "I'm not your friend and I'm most certainly not one of your experiments. Go fuck someone else up." I grind out, grabbing the cup of coffee and standing up.
I just want to go home and curl up in bed, deal with this hangover by myself. I head back toward the bedroom, trying not to be sick and looking for my clothes so I can get the hell out of here.
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"Then don't accept it." I sip at my coffee. "But it's there if you change your mind." He gets even more angry, telling me that he's not my friend and to do my experiments on someone else. I keep calm as he stands up. It won't do any good to get pissed off back, he just needs to get this out, make himself less vulnerable. He heads off down the hall and I sigh softly. I'd hoped things would've gone better.
Drinking the last of my coffee, I rinse out the cup and head towards my room, pausing in front of his door. "I believe your shoes are under the bed and your shirt is on the dresser. As for your pants, I have no idea."
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I pull back the covers, looking for my clothes and letting out a growl when I can't find them. My head hurts like hell and I really just want to lay back down. When he comes over, telling me where my things are, I look where he directs, then scowl when they're exactly where he says they are. I go to grab them, pulling off the t-shirt and putting my own on.
"Don't bother me again, alright? I don't need your fucking help." I snap at him, finally finding my pants, "Do you mind?"
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Heading in to my room, I look through my closet to decide what to wear. Not that there's too much to choose from, it's all pretty much the same. I'm giving him time to get himself together and leave if he wants before I head into the shower. "Just make sure you shut the door tight behind you when you leave." I call out to him.
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He finally leaves and I finish changing, hating that things have to be like this. I don't want them to be, but... I've never done this before. I don't know what to do and I hate being out of control. Once I'm done, I stomp down the hall and head out, making a point not to say goodbye to him. I slam the door, then walk home, wrapping my arms around myself and trying not to get sick.
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The next day at work I keep looking up, expecting him to be standing there but he never is. Bennet's on his ass, I hear that much but that's about all I hear. When the day finally ends, I head home, stopping at the market and getting something to make for dinner. Lasagna. I know I told him to stop by but I doubt he will. Good thing I like lasagna anyway.
Making it, I put it in the oven and then go and relax on the couch, wondering what I should do tonight. I don't want to listen to my music again. Maybe a little TV...
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I know I overdid it the other day, cranky and hung over. I shouldn't have taken it all out on him, but I didn't feel like I had a choice. But now... now I actually miss talking to him. It's the day he invited me over for dinner and I wonder... I wonder if he still wants to see me. I talk myself out of it as much as I can, but I find myself getting ready anyway, fixing my hair and putting on my best shirt. Not Gabriel, Sylar.
I even find myself at his door a few hours later, with a nice bottle of wine, knocking on his door before I can stop myself. Oh god.
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"Sylar." I grin, seeing the wine. I didn't think he'd want to go near the stuff after last time. "Come in. Dinner's in the oven, it'll be a while yet." I move out of the way so he can come in. I glance at the wine bottle, seeing it's actually a fairly good one. Wonder if he got help picking it out, he doesn't seem the type to know how to pick one. Not that that's a bad thing.
"I'd ask you if you wanted some," I nod at the bottle. "But I doubt it. I have juice, milk, soda...beer if you want." I would be $100 he avoids the alcohol. "Wasn't sure if you were going to come, I'm glad you did."
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"I'll have soda, thanks." I wont bring up the other day or the past two days that I haven't been to see him. We can just act completely normal about this, can't we? "I.. wasn't sure either, but..." But I don't know. "I've been really busy. Bennet has been sticking me with a lot of things." Sure, Sylar. Lie. "You said lasagna. I just wanted to see if mine was better."
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Squatting down, I peer into the oven and smile. "I'm sure your lasagna is better than mine. I don't make it very often but I like to when I have time. Usually I just like to throw something together but once in a while it's nice to really make something." I open the bottle to let it breathe a bit and then turn towards him.
"So, do you want to go sit down in the other room? Or do you want to sit at the table." I want him to be comfortable and I want him to open up to me again.
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I pick the soda I want, Coke, and fill my glass as he squats to check the oven. I'm not looking at how good he looks. I'm not. "I'm sure your lasagna is almost as good. You said garlic bread too, right?" I brought him wine, but I'm not drinking any. I just wanted him to see that I can pick good wine as well.
"I'll sit here, it's fine. You should keep an eye on your food." I sit, taking a sip of my soda, my fingers curling around the glass and making it cooler, just because I can.
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"I probably should since the lasagna's almost done and I have to throw the bread in the oven yet." I put the butter in the microwave to soften it while I crush the garlic. I glance over, seeing him freeze his glass and I chuckle. "Showing off?" Taking the butter out, I take the garlic and start mixing it together.
"Thank you for the wine, by the way. You did a good job." I'm curious to ask if he picked it himself or not but I don't want to because I don't want him to take it the wrong way. Once I get the butter ready, I spread it over the bread and then pour myself a glass of the wine.
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He checks the food and I just watch him around the kitchen. I could get used to this, but I don't want to let myself. Maybe I don't deserve it? I shove that thought far away. I narrow my eyes at him when he says I'm showing off, "No, your drinks are warm." Asshole.
Then he starts with me doing a good job and I stand up, grabbing the bottle and opening it with my tk and watching as he pours himself a glass. This time I'm going to get him drunk. "Of course I did a good job. I do know what I'm doing."
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