From his perception, the moment he entered Lyra’s awareness was obvious, going by her reaction. And that was with a decent number of people around him.
He didn’t know how she picked him out from everyone else. Maybe it was the route he was arriving from, or the size of his body, or some unique sound he made that only she could pick up on. Whatever the case, she knew.
It made for a rather awkward few minutes where they were both fully aware yet not in line of sight of each other. Under normal circumstances, Finn wouldn’t be affected by such things, but right now he didn't want to leave Lyra stewing in the dread she was apparently feeling. So he wrote a message on her wall with his power.
Upon seeing it, she relaxed somewhat, but remained in place. Having their dynamic permanently altered was going to take some getting used to. Intellectually, he could understand why she had reacted the way she did at the thought of him being able to watch her this way. For her more so than for him. He had the ability to stare at her whenever he wanted without having to stare at her with his eyes. And trying to hide behind any form of clothing was futile. From this point forward, she would forever be… bare, to him.
Funnily enough, he was reminded of a motivational speech he’d heard somewhere about imagining people in their underwear to deal with anxiety when speaking in front of a crowd. Not that he was a particularly anxious person, nor did the idea of talking to a bunch of people at once scare him, but how did that advice apply to him now that everyone was naked no matter what they chose to wear?
As a concept, he understood it was a way to remind oneself of the humanity of their fellow man. To remove a layer and remember that, in the end, no one was perfect. But Finn could see beyond even that. To him, a human was a set of complex systems working in tandem to sustain a life. It was hard to see them as anything else when the biological activity was clear as day.
Because of that, he was also cognizant of how easily one disruption to that larger structure could put an end to that life. He had seen people die. There was no way he was ever going to forget that. The dreams stopped after the first few nights following the fight with that primebeast. However, they were on his mind every moment where the idea of mortality surfaced in his thoughts, which was often. Whether it was getting riddled with bullets, crushed, or sliced apart, they represented potential ways to go. He wondered how all of that would look with the added perspective of his new power.
Probably even more gruesome, he figured. He hadn’t witnessed a death yet since gaining this power, but there was a morbid sense of fascination with seeing it happen. He didn’t know if it was a bad sign that he didn’t doubt for a second he would see another death again.
Perhaps one day, he would be forced to kill someone with his own hands, too.
The thought was difficult to picture. There were many people he could think of that deserved it, but actually carrying out something with that level of finality seemed improper for him as a hero. Like a step too far.
He had been taught that the military killed primebeasts and any humans aligned with them at the border. Heroes weren’t supposed to put lawbreakers down like dogs in the street; they subdued people and made arrests so the justice system could give them due process.
Dad had never told him about any kills, at least. Finn hoped that meant he’d never had to, and not that he deemed his son too young to learn about them.
And Omega…
His time would come. Finn would show him.
Lost in thought, he kept up his pace. Before he knew it, he was in the hallway leading to Lyra’s apartment. The door was already open. Of course; they could sense each other.
On the other side of the doorway, she stood, staring down at him with a solemn gaze. The height difference was more noticeable now. After a second, she gestured towards the living room.
He held her gaze as he stepped through, then watched her close the door behind him. The walk to their respective seats was quite tense for his friend. He was deliberately trying his best to ignore the information his senses were flooding his brain with, but he wasn’t having any luck.
When they were situated, he scrutinized the cup of tea in front of him. Now that he was in the room, he could smell it was the one he’d ordered in that place Lyra had showed him.
Opposite him, she sat straight, hands in her lap. It was a stark contrast to how he had expected her to act. Although, he couldn’t say he was disappointed.
Lyra took a deep breath, and began to speak.
“I want to apologize,” she said firmly. “For two things. First for running off like that even though you physically couldn’t have told me any sooner, second… for being a hypocrite.”
He raised a questioning eyebrow.
She adopted a guilty expression. “Excluding the fact that I can hear your heartbeat all the time, uhm, well, sometimes when we touch, I use my power to get pretty detailed images of your body from the inside out.” She bit her lip. “Okay, sorry, really detailed.”
That was not something he’d ever stopped to consider. He wasn’t sure what to say in response.
Eyes widening, she pointed a finger at his face. “You’re blushing!”
Finn went still. “No, I’m not.”
“You are! You’re just covering it up with your power now.”
Studiously ignoring her foul, completely false accusation that was in no way based in reality whatsoever, he said, “So you’ve been sneaking peeks at me this entire time without my knowing?”
She winced. “It sounds super awful when you put it like that.”
Perhaps she expected him to respond, but he merely waited for her to elaborate.
“It’s not like I just, ah, did that for the sake of… that. There was always an excuse. One time it was, ‘Oh, I just had to check him over for injuries,’ and another time I’d say, ‘We just made contact during a training exercise, that’s all it is.’ Things like that.”
Processing that, he took a sip of his tea. It was good, sweet enough for his tastes.
Lyra fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with her confession. “I didn’t mean anything by it, really. It’s just… well, you’re always pushing yourself so hard. I wanted to make sure you were okay, and then it just… became a habit?” she finished in a higher pitch, as if it were a question.
Finn put his cup down and leaned back, thinking that over. “Every time we trained?”
“Not every time,” she hurriedly added. “Only when I was worried or curious. Wait, oh my gosh no…” She held her head in her hands. “Please forget I said that.”
“What you did was weird,” he said, eliciting a visible cringe from the girl. “But…”
She slowly lowered her hands from her face, still looking uncertain.
“...It’s also irrelevant,” he continued. “As long as it doesn’t get in the way of our work in the field, it doesn’t matter.”
His fellow vigilante gave him an incredulous look. “You’re giving me permission to do it again?”
“I didn’t say I’m giving you permission, but I won’t stop you from doing something you’ve already been doing, either. Because it would make no sense for me to do that when I can see you so thoroughly.”
“Wow,” she breathed. “You don’t think it was creepy?”
“It was,” he answered bluntly. “But why would that matter now?”
She stared into her own cup of hot liquid. “Are you… serious?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then. I mean, not that I’m saying I’ll take you up on it or anything, I’m just saying okay as in I understand, not okay as in I’ll keep examining every centimeter of your body whenever I get the chance. That feels rude even if you say you don’t mind. Aaand I’ve been talking for way too long and dinner should be ready by now so I should go and get that all on the table so… yeah.” She cleared her throat and rushed into the kitchen.
Bemused by the sudden frantic energy, Finn stayed in his seat as she rushed off. He didn’t understand why she was so worked up. That was to say, he didn’t understand on a mental and emotional level. Physiologically, he could follow the signs associated with certain moods inside her body. His comprehension of human anatomy was still a work-in-progress, but he was beginning to identify certain patterns of brain activity. He wanted to say he could pick out the specific chemicals being released by the brain too, but his senses weren’t that precise yet. He concluded that more practice was required before he was able to tell how Lyra was feeling from a glance.
So it was with total surprise that he watched the aura around her light up in real-time.
An aura of color, flaring like a hazy corona around her body. It consisted of multiple colors at once, and shifted between them as well. A lot of smaller ripples: light red, green, orange.
Surrounding them were two big colors. Purple and yellow, dominating in different shades. And all the way at the center, overlayed on her head, was a concentrated, indiscernible mess of undulating waves, seemingly dormant. No fluctuations in its rhythm.
Double-checked the other people in his range, Finn confirmed none of them were giving him the same kind of images as this. Not a single one of them even had an aura. Just regular people, nothing hidden from him, no matter how embarrassing.
Yet here Lyra was, with this random power? No, it was his power showing him something about her. That much he could say. But what did it mean? Were the colors stress levels? Why so many different ones, if that were the case? Did they represent thoughts, with the nature of them displayed by the color?
He sighed before he could stop himself. Lyra heard, turning her head in his direction with a spike of yellow around her. And then it clicked.
“I can see your emotions,” he declared. His voice was low, and a normal person would’ve had to be within arm’s length to perceive his words. Lyra, however, registered them perfectly well, evident based on how she almost dropped her pan of vegetables on her way to the table.
“Whu?” she asked eloquently.
“Your emotions,” he repeated. “I can see which ones you’re experiencing.”
She remained silent as she continued putting dinner out on the table. Finn gave her time to come to terms with his revelation, moving to his seat at the table when everything was done.
“What do I say now?” Lyra asked, her voice soft and calm. Serene, almost. Finn could see through the deceptive tone; her yellow, which he inferred was fearfulness, hadn’t gone down.
“You could tell me what you cooked,” he replied, looking over the meal. “Even though I can sense all of it, I don’t know what most of this is.”
Green, orange, and white rose around her, yellow receding a little. “I knew I should’ve just stuck with something familiar. It’s something I’ve made for myself before: it’s called ‘Mapo Tofu,’” Lyra explained. “But I made some adjustments. Less spice this time, in case you don’t like it too hot.”
“I can handle spice,” he said.
She nodded, another pulse of white. “But do you like it? I probably should’ve asked before you came.”
“I don’t eat it often,” he admitted. “But that’s mostly because my mom doesn't do well with spicy food.”
He hadn’t named most of the colors yet, but he thought there were more positive emotions than negative when he said that.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, handing him his plate.
Accepting it with both hands, he didn’t hesitate to taste it. “Your cooking has improved a lot,” he said the moment he finished swallowing.
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Bright green flared, intermingling with silver. “Thank you,” she said, smiling.
The conversation dwindled, the two of them simply enjoying the food without any more verbal attempts at communication. Though Finn did find it amusing how Lyra kept glancing at him when his eyes were on his plate, as if she didn’t know he still sensed exactly what she was doing.
“It’s not that big of a step,” Lyra spoke when her plate was empty. “I’m surprised to say I don’t have an issue with it, but it’s true. I was never great at poker anyway, so I don’t feel much more exposed by having my emotions signaled to you. I hope it’s not too bad?”
He shook his head, putting his utensils down. “It’s not. It looks like an ‘aura’ around you with colors representing what you’re feeling.”
She nodded along. “That’s amazing. We can be the privacy violation duo!”
Finn couldn’t help it. He laughed.
Lyra joined in with a surprised titter of her own, her aura growing warmer. “I didn’t know you could laugh.”
“I don’t force it,” he replied with a shrug.
“You’re a tough crowd,” she remarked.
“Probably,” he agreed. “There’s just one part I haven’t made sense of.”
“Oh, what is it?”
“Some sort of condensed mass of colors. Emotions, or something similar, in your head? It showed a single slight deviation when you were eating, but otherwise it hasn’t been active.”
She paled, and so did the yellow around her.
“I think it’s your subconscious mind,” Finn speculated.
“Y-yeah! That must be it. You’re right,” she said far too quickly.
“Alright.” He wasn’t going to press her on this when he had half-baked suspicions to go on himself. He would need more data, but so far no one else had shown an aura. They’d revisit this topic later.
Another pause arrived, this one shorter. Lyra was the one to break it again. “Can you promise me one thing?”
“That depends,” he said cautiously. It was unlike her to try and extract promises from him.
“I don’t want you to tell me, but if you ever see something dangerous in my emotions, like a serious threat… Can you stop me?”
Not even close to what he had been expecting. Was she afraid of herself? Nar had said something along those lines during training. Was this what he meant? It wasn’t like Finn had never thought about the consequences of misusing his power. Intrusive thoughts had popped up in his head before, but he’d never actually been close to acting on them. Was it different for Lyra? He frowned. Knowing what she told him of her past, it might be.
Overall, it was a reasonable ask, albeit a strange one. His friend thought she could potentially use some help in the future, and he was prepared to provide it. He faced her directly, seeing his reflection in her dark brown eyes. “If I see anything of that nature, I swear I’ll do everything in my power to make sure you come back to your senses.”
“That’s… so reassuring, I don’t have the words for it. Thank you so much.” The relief on her face was clear. In her aura, yellow subsided, being replaced by white and deep pink, taking their place alongside purple.
It was good that they were able to talk through everything tonight, he concluded. He figured there would be no more obstructions to their cooperation on the next mission. Sliding his chair back, he stood. “Since we’ve addressed everything, I’m going.”
Her panic returned in full force.
He blinked. Did he forget something? Hm, yes he did. “Unless you need help with the dishes?” It was the polite thing to do. Mom wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if he left without offering. And she deserved it, with how much work she had put in.
She shook her head, a rapid, desperate motion. “No, no. You can leave, if you want. I can walk you out.”
On the surface, the offer seemed innocent enough, but he now had the tools to instantly know what was going on underneath. More worry and anticipation, plus the same colors as earlier. “Let’s go,” he said, pushing the chair forward and striding ahead.
Lyra followed, grabbing her coat on the way out. They walked out together, and she went through a range of different feelings on the way. Yet she said nothing.
When they were outside the apartment building, she began to slow her pace on the sidewalk, and Finn turned to her. “You have more to say, don’t you?”
The telltale muffling of ambient noise indicated she had put up a barrier, and she nodded. “I… I like you.”
Finn’s expression remained calm, but internally, he was flabbergasted at her admission. His extra sense picked up on every subtle change in Lyra's physiology. Her pulse had quickened, her breathing shallowed, and her yellow aura once again contained a swirl of deep pink, white, and purple—colors he still hadn’t fully defined but could guess at now. She was telling the truth, and she was terrified.
“But you already knew that,” she continued.
He didn’t deny it. “Yeah, I did.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” she demanded, a note of accusation leaking into her tone. The shades of red surprised him, both in how intuitive they were and in the fact that they were coming from Lyra. He couldn’t recall an instance of her being angry at him in any capacity before.
But he couldn’t distract himself with her aura for the rest of the night. The barrier she had put up blocked all the background noise, making the moment between them feel even more isolated, like the world around them had stopped moving. He was Finn here, not Shade. No gadgets or impact absorbent suits to shield him from her. She could kill him where he stood, if she wished to.
He crossed his arms. “What was I supposed to say? You weren’t coming to me about it, so I assumed it wasn’t urgent enough to affect our work. And I was right. It wasn’t. So what’s your issue?”
She grabbed her hair in frustration. “Wasn’t urgent enough to- Ugh! You just left me to stew in my, my, I don’t know, stupidity while you knew full well I was struggling with how I felt!”
“And it was my job to make you address that? You seemed fine.”
With a gusty sigh, she deflated. “I was afraid. In the beginning, I didn’t want anything to change how we worked as a team, so I kept to myself. But I was lonely. And you were awesome. I wanted to be friends from the start, and when I got that opportunity after the surgery, I jumped on it. I thought maybe if we kept meeting up to do ‘friend’ things, I’d find out how you feel about me, and it would clear up how I felt, because I wasn’t even sure about that.” She clenched her hands, a brittle smile forming on her face. “And here I am, no closer to getting that answer. All I found out is that you had a better read on me than anyone else. Sorry for framing everything we did together like a date.”
Finn’s jaw tightened, but he kept his arms crossed, watching Lyra with a careful eye as she finished speaking. Her aura was still rippling with that mess of emotions he was slowly piecing together. There was enough going on to suggest she was in turmoil. She’d just dumped all of this on him, after all.
“It doesn’t matter,” he said in a flat voice.
“Excuse me?” She stepped closer, scowling. “What doesn’t matter?”
“You wanted to know what I was… feeling,” he said, the last word spoken with distaste. “Then you said you were sorry about how you acted. My response to both is that it doesn’t matter.”
Her annoyance bled away into confusion. “Why?”
He paused, considering his words. “I told you what I need to do… There are things I need to put aside in order to accomplish it. Including the quirks of a teammate who can make my climb go faster.”
“That’s all I am to you? A teammate?”
“If you were, I wouldn’t have come here without my mask. But first and foremost, I need to focus my attention on what I have to do to get closer to my goal. In that context, you are Calliope. And even if I had the space to think of you in a different light, I can’t.”
Her eyes searched his face for something before she opened her mouth again. “You’re with me now, right? The next mission isn’t here yet. Why can’t you tell me?”
“I could die,” he stated. “I think about it every time I suit up. No matter what steps I take to ensure personal safety, the world isn’t fair enough to allow me to guarantee my own survival.”
“I could die too. Why are you acting like I’m not taking the same risks?”
“You’re not getting it. If I die, I’ll end up the same way as the person I’m doing this for: a memory to the people who knew me in life. But I can’t not do it, because I can’t live with myself if I sit there and waste this power I waited for all this time. It’s not what I expected, and it’s not what I wished for, but I keep going.” His gaze drifted to the night sky, arms falling to his sides. “This is my path, and if I allow that sort of thinking in my mind, the idea that it’s alright to get tied down, I might lose. Because that’s what Dad did. And I can’t be like him.”
When he looked back down, Lyra had tears rolling down her cheeks, waves of blue pervading her aura. “Whoa.”
Finn said nothing, waiting for her to collect her thoughts.
“I didn’t realize it hit so… close to home for you. I got the feeling you were being callous at first, but now I know that’s not it at all. I understand if you want to cut this conversation off after this. I’d just like to tell you about my perspective first,” she quavered, her voice tender.
Her lungs expanded to their limit in his power’s sensory component. “I grew up stifled,” she said in a steadier tone. “I had a dream, but life kept getting in the way, and when it didn’t, I waited for opportunities that deep down I knew were never going to come to me. The pressure from my parents increased to choose a career as I approached high school-age, and I felt stuck between choosing something I didn’t want and something I didn’t believe I could do. You know how I got my power, and what went wrong, but when I was alone that night, walking through the district by myself, I almost died. Then you came. Somebody with no stake in whether I lived or died, risking your life because you were nearby. I treasured that, and I didn’t want to let it go. Then we met up, and that first run was the scariest experience I’ve ever had. Ever since then, I've been through so much with you. I’ve seen you grow. You’ve seen me laugh, you’ve seen me cry, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s only been a few months, but this is the best time of my life. I feel terrible saying that after what I’ve done to get here, but it’s true. No more confusion or dancing around it.” She wiped her eyes. “When I think of my dearest memories, you’re in them. When I try to imagine who I want to spend my time with, I think of you. I wonder what you’re doing when I fall asleep and when I wake up. I yearn to do small, everyday things with you around like doing the laundry or shopping for groceries. If you can reciprocate even a fraction of that, I’ll be happy. So I hope you’ll let yourself at least answer the question of how you feel. Because I want that, Finn. I want you.”
Finn felt her words wash over him, their weight heavy on his chest. For a moment, he didn’t speak, the only sounds around them being the faint hum of the distant city and the muted rustling of leaves as a breeze passed through the street. The silence between them thickened, stretching until it almost felt unbearable. He stood there, trying to process what she had just said.
It would have been easier if she had yelled at him, easier if she had been angry, but Lyra’s quiet vulnerability was so much harder to face. She had laid her heart bare, exposing the truth of her feelings with such raw honesty that it felt like an intrusion into a space he had no right to be in. Much like this entire evening had, he realized.
“I want you.”
Those three words echoed in his mind. She had said them with such sincerity, with such longing. And what did he have to offer in return? What could he possibly give her, knowing where his life was headed? What had he done to warrant that desire?
For the first time today, he took in her appearance in full. He didn’t know anything about fashion, but her clothes looked stylish enough. She hadn’t bothered with her non-prescription glasses, leaving her with nothing to cover her red, teary eyes. Her dyed hair was growing out, and her expression was hopeful, if he had to put a name to it.
Beyond that, her aura was filled with colors he didn’t understand. And her body… He found nothing wrong with it. That was as far as he let his thoughts go in that direction.
She was right. He did want to cut this conversation off here; he didn’t want to proceed with something so uncomfortable and in opposition to his purpose. But that would be cruel. He could answer her question. Sorting out thoughts didn’t equate to acting on them.
Ultimately, he went with honesty. “I don't know how to do this. I don't know what I’m looking for.” He let out a breath. “I don't mean to disappoint you.”
The girl’s aura seemed conflicted, then she came to an internal decision. “That’s okay. Neither of us are experts at this. The problem is, I’m in a bit of a bind. I owe you the world, and now I’m adding to my debt.” She wrung her hands. “Can I ask you for a favor?”
Again, she was his friend, she didn’t owe him anything. But he nodded in acquiescence.
“Don’t move.”
While he was doing his best statue impression, she moved into arm’s reach. One of her hands, the right, reached for his left. She retracted before touching two times, then grew bolder when he didn’t react. Their digits brushed against each other, and she snaked her fingers across his palm, grasping tightly.
Lyra stepped closer still, her breaths coming heavier. It smelled of the dinner they’d eaten earlier, and he figured his own did too. With a final ripple of pink, she leaned forward.
And her lips met his.
The second their lips touched, Finn’s mind went blank.
His senses didn’t actually falter, but his awareness of them did, overwhelmed by the sheer shock of the contact. He hadn’t expected this, not in the slightest, despite the progression of their conversation. It wasn’t because he couldn’t have predicted her actions—no, his ability to read her emotions had been hinting at it all along—but because he never allowed himself to consider this as a possibility. Not for himself.
For her, though, this was everything. He could feel her trembling against him, her fingers still laced with his, gripping him like a lifeline. The aura around her flickered wildly, a whirlwind of pinks, purples, and colors he couldn’t quite figure out yet. Her pulse quickened, her body warm against the cool night air, and he could feel the weight of her emotions pressing into him, her feelings so much clearer than they had ever been before.
Finn stood rigid, unsure of what to do with his hands or how to respond. The only thing he could focus on was the sensation of her lips—soft and warm—pressed against his. Time stretched out in that single moment, though in reality it lasted a few seconds at most. Then she pulled away, eyes wide and searching his features for any sign of what he was thinking.
“H-how was it?” she asked, her flushed cheeks illuminated by the light fixture above.
“I need to think,” he said in a daze. “Alone,” he added with more clarity. He’d always been peripherally aware of relationships, but thinking about them as a genuine prospect was foreign to him. He’d accomplished nothing to deserve one, and he had priorities. He could not forget that.
But…
Getting that confession and subsequent kiss out of his mind was proving very troublesome.
“Of course,” she said hastily. “Sorry for springing that on you. I’ve just been visualizing doing that for a while now. I was scared that if I didn’t do it right this moment, I never would.”
“It’s fine,” he replied absently. “I should go.”
“Uh, yeah, just, ah,” she stammered, fumbling with her hand. Then the sound cleared up, signifying the end of the privacy barrier. “There. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” he responded, and meant it.
With a shy smile, Lyra turned and headed back into the lobby, and Finn started his walk back home. Her warmth still lingered as he put one foot in front of the other. He was unsettled. It wasn’t comfort, nor was it discomfort. It was just new. And he was dealing with a lot of that, lately.
Were they going to have to have another talk about this? Somehow, the irony made him smile. Planning a talk to clear up boundaries that stemmed from a talk to clear up boundaries.
If they were, that would have to be soon, with their next mission right around the corner.
They would have to be ready, because if something happened to either of them there, wouldn’t that be the end of... whatever this was turning into?