7.3

Silas dragged Ira into his office without a word. He directed Ira to sit on a couch and then sat down next to him, staring at Ira with sparkling eyes. They were still holding hands and there was nothing to indicate that Silas had any intention of letting go. Ira waited for a second to see if he was going to say something, but when nothing came he decided to take the first step himself. He had already come so far anyway, no reason to back out now.

"I want cuddles."

Silas blinked at him. He frowned a little and tilted his head to the side, but his eyes were still shining and he still exuded that sense of warmth that had seduced Ira. Cuddle seduction was dangerous business.

"Of course," said Silas and scooted closer. He embraced Ira and leaned back against the couch's backrest.

Ira was again a little flummoxed at the ease with which he got his way, but that was no reason to hesitate. He sank down into the warmth and enjoyed the moment, curling his legs up on the couch as well, towing off his boots as he went. He closed his eyes and savor the moment, deciding to just not worry about anything.

But still, he was curious. "Do you know who I am?"

"You are Ira."

"Yes, but do you know who I am to you?"

Silas fell silent. His embrace tightened to an almost painful level and Ira could almost hear the frown in his voice. Silas said, "You are my heart."

That was... not a word he had ever heard anyone describe him as. Ira was not sure how we should react to that, so he simply decided to blow past it and ignore it. If it was important, he was sure it would come up again. And while it was nice to know that some feelings stayed with Silas, even though he didn't understand how they could considering that this was a completely different incarnation of him, there was still something else that he was curious about. "Do you remember me?" Ira asked, not really expecting a comprehensive answer.

He wondered where this sudden curiosity came from. He hadn't questioned this in any of the other worlds or times that he had met Silas, had he? He had just gone with the flow. But there was a part of him now, now that he knew that there was actually something that he wanted from Silas, that he wanted with Silas, that wanted to know.

Silas was just an ordinary soul. He wasn't a protagonist or transmigrator, or a reincarnator, or even a System. Ira didn't actually know what it was that made Silas such an interesting soul, but he always recognized Ira. He always claimed to love him.

There was no way for that information to go from one incarnation to another. That wasn't how it worked.

"I remember bits and pieces," Silas said. His voice was musing when he continued to say, "Honestly, I don't think I remember a lot. I think when I move on from this world I won't remember a lot from this one either, but I love you. And that's all I need to know."

Ira held in the scoff that wanted to emerge out of reflex. "I don't understand how you can just say things like that."

Silas only shrugged in response. He moved a little on the couch so that Ira could rest easier against him and Ira let himself get pulled along. He felt the absurd urge to sigh, though he didn't know the reason for it.

He'd already known that there was something shifty about Silas' soul; there was no way he would be able to follow Ira otherwise. But what that shiftiness was about didn't really bother him. It didn't change anything, the fact that there was obviously something amiss with the man's soul. It simply meant that Silas had at some point done something. But what that was, didn't matter to Ira. It was none of his business anyway.

After about an hour of glorious, glorious cuddling, Silas, unfortunately, had to get back to work. Ira stayed sitting on the couch, amusing himself by watching a cartoon that made him snort with laughter more than a few times.

It was around six in the evening when Silas finally finished working. Ira had been there less time than he had expected, as he had woken up much later than he initially assumed. That's what you get for ignoring the time. When Silas was ready, he rose to his feet and approached Ira, holding out his hand and smiling gently at him. Ira took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

They took a special elevator down to the basement. There was a small parking lot down there that was exclusively for the use of the top brass. The elevator, likewise, was only for the highest-ranking of the company's hierarchy to use. So they were the only ones in it. Ira took this as all the permission he needed to practically hang off Silas's arm.

The car Silas took him to was a needlessly fancy, expensive car. The kind that wealthy old men drove when they had gotten to that part of their lives where they wanted to fulfill their childhood dreams in an attempt to deny the fact that they had become virtual monsters. All rich people were monsters since the only way to be rich was to hoard wealth. And hoarding wealth automatically resulted in other people not having it, which made most rich people monsters. Granted, if Ira ever became rich he would certainly never give away his money to anybody else ever. No, he would hide that in the basement and make a throne out of it, and it would be just like that movie For the Throne.

Silas seemed rich in this world. Did he have a basement?

Well, he'd ponder on that another time. Right now, he was preoccupied with the fact that they had reached Silas' mention. And it was an actual proper mansion, not just a big house or a kind of modern building that looked like a mansion but was much smaller inside. No, this mansion even had a dedicated road leading up to it. There were sparkling golden gates opening to allow them in and everything.

Silas exited the car first and held the door open for Ira. Ira scooted out and looked around with wide eyes. The mansion was surrounded by a forest on all sides, the fence not even visible from here. There was a stone staircase leading up to the front door on the porch in front of it, a flower bed growing all along the exterior of the house. It was evening, so the sun had started to set — or it had already set awhile ago? He hadn't paid attention to it and Ira didn't quite remember which season of the year it was. Was it winter? He felt like it had been cold yesterday after the awards ceremony, but he couldn't quite remember because it had been so uninteresting.

Well, whatever. The sun was down, it was evening, most of the sky was covered by clouds. It was just an ordinary day.

Ira walked up to the front door and it was pulled open from the other side. Apparently, this door opened inward into the house. His apartment probably did that too, now that he thought about it. That changed sometimes, between worlds. Sometimes it just changed between cities somehow. Doors were weirdly consistent and weirdly inconsistent at the same time. Just like humans.

Silas walked in behind Ira and closed the door. Ira took in the ground hall, the high ceiling and the chandelier hanging from it, and the staircase so wide it seemed like 3 staircases next to each other. He spun around on his heel and asked Silas, "Do you know how to bake?"

"Yes." Silas started walking immediately. For lack of anything else to do, Ira followed.

It felt like they walked through half the house to reach the kitchen. But maybe that was just because he was impatient and the closer he got to his goal the more impatient he became. He really had missed Silas and the things the man could create.

Silas started baking as soon as he entered the kitchen. He turned on the music and it belted out through speakers; because this was a rich man's house. And apparently having speakers in the kitchen was normal. But the music was soft, a slow ballad in a language that Ira didn't bother to know. It was a pleasant enough tune and Ira took a seat on the counter on one side of the kitchen. The kitchen was gigantic, so there was still plenty of room for Silas to work with. Ira put his head on his hand and rested his elbow on the table, leaning his weight on it and relaxing. His eyes nearly closed, as exhaustion befell him and he realized that he was pretty tired.

But watching Silas baking was comforting and relaxing, and familiar. Ira enjoyed it; enjoyed the ease and familiarity of it. He enjoyed the fact that it was predictable and he knew what to expect. Even these days, he never actually knew what to expect of his Hosts.

It was easy enough to split his attention between watching Silas and watching a movie in his head. It wasn't a very interesting movie anyway, so it wasn't like his attention was drawn to it or anything. And it nearly felt a little bit weird to just stare at Silas as he moved around the kitchen with familiar movements born from doing the same thing over and over again hundreds of times. Ira didn't understand why it should feel weird or strange at all, since he just kind of stared at people all the time on his map, but somehow it did. He blamed the fact that it was Silas.

The music switched to another song. Ira filtered out the background sound of the movie. It was some kind of universal action flick. Just lots of shooting and people dying and a hero on the road to justice. Not terribly interesting, all things told. Humans dying were amusing yes, but it was more fun watching Silas.

Ira changed his position, crossing his arms and laying them down on the counter. He rested his head on them and closed his eyes, surrounding himself with the noise of Silas cooking and a movie in the background. He even let some of the music filter in. It should have been a cacophony; it should have been an awful mix.

But it wasn't.

"If you're tired, you can go to bed," said Silas. He almost sounded concerned. Ira only shook his head in answer and didn't say anything, allowing himself this vulnerability. He didn't know what kind of vulnerability this was. But it felt like one.

Silas didn't say anything else and went back to baking. Ira saw his progress in his head and occasionally split his attention to the movie when a particularly loud explosion rang out. As time passed, the exhaustion climbed higher and higher, and the scent of chocolate filled the air.

Falling asleep happened slowly. A lot of things happened slowly for Ira. When you lived for eons upon eons, for millennia upon millennia, there was no sense of urgency. No sense in rushing. Things happened at the pace they happened, and that was alright.

But eventually, things did happen. They did change. And when they finally did so after so long of slowly, slowly shifting into motion, that final piece could shift so suddenly and so quickly that it barely made any sense.

Ira fell asleep to the sound of Silas putting the cupcakes into the oven. And he wondered briefly if Silas had done something to ensure that he would always find Ira. If so, he found that he didn't quite mind.