ALIAS | loid forger x reader / agent twilight x reader [spyxfamily]

10

"Y/n, we need to talk."

Y/n Forger. Friday night.

I'm not a huge fan of those words. Not in that connotation, at least. Usually it's said differently. Usually when I'm saying it I say it differently. "Let's talk" sounds more lighthearted; I'd toss it around at a party or something to people I want to get to know more. I'd sometimes dabble into a few other permutations of that phrase. I'd even possibly be bold enough one day to boom out a definite "we're talking" and pull them by the wrist. I'd say it with the confidence of a period at the end of a sentence. I'd have to be rather irritated for it to come out like that.

But, none of that matters because I am no longer on the deliverer of the declaration that a conversation must part take. I am not the demander who demands the latter's time and attention. I am the woman who stands in front of my husband as my confusion falters into unease.

"...we need to talk."

My nose was close to running. It was grossly cold outside. My gloves were made to protect me from the elements and although I peeled them off my hands like a coating of liquid latex only three—maybe four— seconds ago, I pressed my fingertips against each other and felt nothing. They were too frigid and not malleable in the way they would be if blood was pumping through my capillaries properly. They were stale.

"...need to talk."

Do we really need to? We talk all the time. We talked for hours before we went to bed last night. We talked this morning over rice and eggs. We don't ever truly need to talk. We're just as fine without it.

"I need to speak to you."

Now that's what he didn't say. Meaning whatever he's about to involve me in isn't a one-sided lecture, but a two-sided conversation. It means he needs something out of me as much as I wonder what I'm getting out of him.

Either way, I've heard the phrase before. Not one of its permutations, but the simplicity of those four words and all of its succeeding anguish. Upon realizing this, I frowned. In a way I was already frowning. But a certain stillness took ever my body as I seemed to have come to the judgement that this wasn't going to be good.

"About...?" I asked, stretching out my words as if I were trudging through mud, ground soft like clay, dirt encasing my feet. Because it certainly felt like it. I don't know what I expected him to say back, but it definitely wasn't—

"You."

I like to talk. I'll admit that. I'll talk about pretty much anything, ask anything, question anything, but I don't usually talk about myself. Usually, I only talk about myself to Sasha Cegielski. Lately, that list has grown to include Loid Forger. Loid Forger's only on that list because he talked about himself too. This time around though, I don't think he'll be talking about himself at all. And I don't like that.

"Okay," I said, treading cautiously. Treading cautiously. Why was I even doing that? I've never had to be cautious around him before. "What about me?"

"You tell me," he responded instantaneously. He took a step closer. I pressed the pads of my fingers together again. I still couldn't feel anything. "There's nothing you've been hiding?"

There's nothing he's been hiding? Quite frankly I know nothing about him. It's unfair that I have to spill anything at all. So unfair.

I was confused. That's it. Confused, tired, still definitely cold. Who am I even talking to?

Does he know?

"I've always thought you've got the surest eye," I admitted somberly. And it was true. He could notice things seconds before I could in a crucial situation. He could tag someone in his peripheral within a matter of minutes. Those eyes have seen me, too. And now they're not seeing me, but staring daggers with a shade of azure that was hard to interpret.