Work Text:
7:59 AM
You’re already in front of your laptop and logged in to the portal. Fidgeting with your hands and staring at the minutes ticking at the bottom left corner of the screen, you wait. You’ve been waiting for the past hour. Waiting for the Hunter’s Association Licensure Exam results to come out. This test is notorious for being extremely demanding and tough, requiring both a written and physical portion. Only a small percentage of test takers pass the exam. You’ve poured your heart into this; staying up late hours and studying the terms in the textbook to the point that they made your eyes cross, studying at the dinner table, and reviewing your notes first thing in the morning. You’ve also physically trained yourself with Sylus’ help, and a few wanderers you found in the nearby forest. Granted, you did suffer minor injuries from those scuffles. At this point, your brain is engraved with vocab, concepts, combat moves, and practice questions. You’ve done everything you could, put everything—your sleep, mental, and even physical health— on the line for this brutal test. After all, you were absolutely, fully laser-focused on becoming the only thing you’ve ever wanted to become: a full-fledged, reputable hunter.
Meanwhile, Sylus is getting ready to head out to the N109 zone, having some business to take care of. He’s wearing his signature black leather jacket with silver zippers adorning the pockets, his silky white hair perfectly groomed. He seems to be in a rush, especially with the new protocore deliveries that came to Onichynus last night. However, he promised you that he’d be by your side when the exam results come out. He zips up his jacket, does a once-over at himself in the full-sized mirror, and glances at you. “Scores come out yet?” Sylus asks curiously, sauntering over to you, behind your office chair. You shake your head, your foot nervously tapping against the mahogany floorboards. He tries to soothe your anxiousness, putting his hands on your shoulders. “Relax,” he murmured.
8:00 AM
You excitedly refresh the screen, both of you waiting in anticipation. You curse the slow internet connection for making it load so slowly, clicking the refresh button with relentless abandon. Each second passing by feels like hours. Finally, the screen loads up and flashes in front of your eyes.
There it is, in big, bold red letters:
HUNTER LICENSURE QUALIFICATION: CANDIDATE 792350 HAS NOT PASSED THE EXAMINATION.
You stare at the screen, re-reading the sentence over and over, the delayed reaction setting in. You can feel the sting from your unshed tears. The red letters almost taunt you in your misery. You don’t hear Sylus’ voice, not over the ringing in your ears. The words “has not passed” hit you the most. After all that work, all those hours of sleep lost, and those bruises you suffered…you failed. Again. For the 4th time.
This wasn’t your first time taking this test.
Every time you sat behind the screen, starting the test, you were so sure that you’d pass. You spent hours upon hours reviewing every little mistake you made after several practice tests, ensuring that your form and attacks were efficient when fighting those wanderers, and spent every minute of your study block dissecting the feedback you got from Sylus after sparring. Despite suffering a deep gash in your right thigh from an aggressive wanderer in that forest one night, you simply bandaged yourself up and continued fighting. You were so sure of yourself. But your results said otherwise.
You continue staring at the screen, paying no attention to the tears rolling down your cheek. Your expression was the epitome of disappointment, anger, and self-hatred. You couldn’t understand what was keeping you from your goal, what mistakes you were overlooking. Your fingers dig into the wood of your desk.
“...get it next time, sweetie. Sweetie, you with me? It’s okay. You’ll get it next time. For sure.” Sylus’ muffled voice comes through your temporary brain fog. His hand is on yours. He can feel the tremors and quiet sobs wracking through your body. Even with his reassurances, you know deep down it isn’t okay. You failed 4 times. “How could you fail 4 times in a row?”, you think. “Is there something wrong with me?” you wonder in your head.
“But…how? I studied...so hard. I…” you whimper out, at a loss for words. You couldn’t help but be ashamed of your performance. Ashamed of yourself. Despite those hours, it still wasn’t enough to cross the passing threshold. You sniffle, wiping away your tears, clicking away from the screen. Devastation finally sets in. You put your head in your hands, sobbing. At that moment, you feel his strong arms envelop you, rocking you slowly. He doesn’t say anything, letting your emotions overflow. You try to talk, trying to justify your failure, but he only shushes you. “It’s okay. Let it out.”
He hugs you tighter as you cry, acting as your anchor. He’s done this every time you failed. Every single time. And every single time, he’d always whisper in your ear, saying that he believes in you. That you have the raw potential to get through this exam. He’d never stop believing in you. It isn’t much different this time. He consoles you, as your cries slowly subside, replaced by sniffles and hiccups.
You wipe your face once more, feeling a sudden surge of rage; rage directed at yourself. You angrily take your thick textbook, staring daggers at it. “I need to study. Crying won’t help.” You murmur shakily to yourself, voice still unsteady. You try to open the textbook for the millionth time, feeling a sense of dread.
It’s stuck. Almost as if it’s glued together.
You grunt, trying to pry the textbook apart. What the hell’s going on? You try to tear open the textbook, grabbing just the cover page and pulling it apart, failing to notice the red-black mist keeping it from opening. It doesn’t budge. Out of frustration, you yell, and you hurl the textbook against the door with a loud THUD. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice that familiar red-black mist on the book before disappearing. All that rage at yourself had suddenly been directed at Sylus. You angrily turn your chair towards him. He stares down at you with a firm expression, his right eye glowing from using his Evol.
He relaxes his hand, the mist disappearing as fast as it came. “I’m not letting you study. Not in this condition,” he says in that no-nonsense tone of his.
“Sylus, stop this! I need to study! I can’t keep wallowing in my own sadness like this, I won’t ever pass the fucking exam!” You scream hoarsely. But his expression remains unwavering. He crosses his arms.
“Not right now. Have you looked at yourself? Have you noticed how hard you’ve been pushing? You don’t think I can see it in your eyes, those dark circles? I can’t just sit there doing nothing while you suffer.” He says with anger, anger at you for doing this to yourself.
You try to argue with him, but the words don’t come out. The fatigue of pulling all-nighters for several weeks, fighting with injuries, and the mental breakdown over your results comes crashing down on you at full force. The most you say is a tired, weary sigh; a sigh of defeat, and acceptance. You can feel the dried tear tracks on your cheeks, and a pounding headache starting to form. His expression softens. He takes your head into his hands, making you look at him. You can’t help but stare at his striking, red eyes: eyes that don’t reveal anything about himself to anyone, but you. His usual calculating, sharp gaze has reduced to a vulnerable expression.
“Let me get you something to eat. Or we can watch something, whatever you want. I’ll stay with you.” He says, and follows with a kiss on your forehead. His original plans of returning to the Onichynus base are out the window; after all, nothing matters to him more than you and your well-being. Even a million protocores would be incomparable to your joy.
“I’m not hungry. I...just want to sleep.” You murmur, voice hoarse from crying, headache getting worse. He simply nods, not forcing you.
He guides you off the office chair and to the king-sized bed that you’ve both been sharing. The morning light peers through the window, the room becoming brighter. He shuts the blinds and tucks you into bed, and you make yourself comfortable. He lies behind you, pulling you in his arms. You melt into his warm embrace, his body resembling a human furnace.
“Comfy?” He mutters. You nod and turn towards him. You nuzzle your face in his chest and sigh.
“When will I pass? When will I finally stop taking this exam?” Your voice comes out muffled, your face against his chest. He sighs and rubs your head.
“I’m not sure. But one thing’s for certain: You will pass. No doubt in my mind.”
“What makes you think that?” You say, baffled at how much he still believes in you, despite your repeated failures. He keeps rubbing and patting your head.
“Your perseverance. Don’t lose that. That’s what’ll keep you going, improving, and passing this exam. I believe in you.” He says this with utmost confidence. He doesn’t even stutter. And it still shocks you to the core at how he hasn’t already given up on you after the 2nd attempt. Before you could counter him, your eyelids got heavy. You sleep against his chest. He holds you, tucking your head under his chin. He pushes the hair away from your cheeks as you sleep peacefully, the tension you had for several weeks gone from your face. He kisses your forehead, his red eyes lovingly staring at your calm expression. He whispers in your ear once more.
“I believe in you. Always.”