Malvin let out a long, weary sigh as he trudged down the snow-covered streets, the crunch of ice and frost beneath his boots accompanying his every step. Tugging his coat tighter around himself, he muttered under his breath, the winter chill biting through even the thick fabric. It wasn't his uniform coat—he wasn't on duty after all. This was his civilian coat, plain and practical, one he only wore during the rare forced breaks mandated by The Guard. And so, here he was, trying to fill the time during this unwelcome reprieve.
He jammed his hands into his pockets, his breath visible in the frigid air as he made his way toward the Clockwork Gardens District. The name itself gave away its character—a haven of carefully manicured greenery interspersed with intricate mechanical sculptures, fountains, and clockwork marvels. Or at least, that was how it looked most of the year. In the middle of winter, though, Malvin doubted there'd be much lushness to admire. The gardens would be blanketed in snow, the fountains frozen over, the intricate sculptures frosted like forgotten relics of some bygone era. Still, it was better than staying home.
What else was he supposed to do? Spend time with his parents? They were too buried in their government duties to take breaks. Walk around the city with his younger sister? Absolutely not. That was asking to babysit a walking disaster waiting to happen. She had her own friends to bother anyway. That left him with only one viable option: spending his break with the one person he begrudgingly called a friend.
"I really do feel loved, walking in complete silence next to you," the man at his side said, his tone light and teasing.
Malvin turned to face him, his red eyes meeting the man's sharp blue ones. The contrast between them was as stark as their personalities—Malvin's hair was a pale grayish-white, perpetually disheveled, while the man's jet-black locks were neatly combed back. The man's winter attire was as polished as the rest of him: a finely tailored coat of deep burgundy lined with fur, its gold buttons catching the faint glimmer of the dim winter light. He wore black leather gloves and a matching scarf that seemed far too pristine for the slushy streets. Meanwhile, Malvin's dark gray coat was plain and functional, paired with a scarf that looked like it had seen better days. The only thing they had in common was that both seemed impervious to the biting cold and were near the same height.
"Yeah, whatever, Viktor," Malvin muttered, turning his gaze back to the path ahead. "Stop making it sound like we're on some kind of date."
"Well," Viktor replied with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock offense, "by the technical definition of the word, this is a date."
Malvin groaned under his breath, pulling his scarf higher over his face to hide his irritation. "Yeah, focus on the technical part, please."
---
"Wait, Viktor? As in Viktor Lovern?!" Clare suddenly exclaimed, cutting into Malvin's story with wide-eyed disbelief.
The interruption earned an audible groan from Malvin, who looked thoroughly annoyed. "Yes," he replied flatly, dragging the word out like it physically pained him to admit it.
"You're friends with Viktor Lovern, Captain?!" Loreen's tone was just as incredulous, her hands slamming down on the table as she stared at him.
Malvin pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly regretting bringing it up. "Yes," he repeated, slower this time, as if hoping the admission would end the conversation.
"Wait, none of you knew?" Tores chimed in, glancing at Clare and Loreen.
"No!" Clare shot back, shaking her head in disbelief. "Did you?"
"Kind of," Tores admitted sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck.
"Honestly, it's not surprising," Jos interjected, crossing his arms as he leaned back on the wall. "Considering who the Captain's parents are, it makes sense that he'd know someone rich like that."
Aeron, ever the silent observer, remained characteristically quiet. He could have mentioned that he also knew Viktor Lovern personally, but the look on Malvin's face made it clear he wanted to move on. Aeron decided against speaking up, knowing full well that the others would bombard him with questions about his own connection to the man. For once, silence seemed like the better option.
"Moving on," Malvin muttered with a sigh. "Viktor and I were heading to the Clockwork Gardens to hang out before we ran into a certain someone there—or, well, someones might be more accurate, since there were two. But we'll get to that later..."
---
"You know," Viktor began, his tone light and conversational as he gestured at their surroundings, "the park still looks pretty stunning this time of year."
Malvin glanced around, taking in the scene. Snow blanketed the ground, softening the usually sharp lines of the intricate clockwork sculptures scattered throughout the gardens. Frost clung to the elaborate mechanisms, giving them a crystalline sheen, while frozen fountains stood as silent, glistening sentinels. Even the bare trees, their branches coated in ice, added a kind of serene elegance to the space. It wasn't lush or green like the gardens were during the warmer months, but it had its own quiet, wintery charm.
"Yeah, I guess it does," Malvin admitted before quickly pointing toward a nearby stall with steam rising invitingly from its small chimney. "Let's get something to eat over there."
Viktor followed his gaze, his lips twitching into a faint smirk. "Sure," he said with a chuckle, "maybe some sweets will cheer up your... well, your entire being."
Malvin rolled his eyes, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as the two made their way toward the stall. But as they approached, Malvin's eyes caught a flash of vibrant orange hair near one of the snow-covered sculptures. His stomach immediately dropped. There was no mistaking that hair—it could only belong to him.
"Hey, Viktor," Malvin said quickly, his voice suddenly strained. "Why don't we, uh... head over there instead?" Without waiting for a reply, he grabbed Viktor by the arm and tugged him in the opposite direction.
Viktor stumbled slightly, blinking in confusion. "What's the rush—"
"Oh, Malvin! That you?"
Malvin froze mid-step, his back stiffening as the unmistakable voice called out behind him. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned to face the source.
It was Silas, standing a few feet away, bundled up in a thick coat and scarf. His smile was wide and friendly as he approached. "How've you been enjoying the break, partner? Didn't think I'd run into you here." His tone was casual.
Before Malvin could even begin to respond, Silas's gaze shifted to Viktor. He raised an eyebrow and asked, "And who's this?"
Malvin felt a fresh wave of panic wash over him as Viktor turned to size Silas up. Then, to Malvin's horror, Viktor's expression morphed into the most devilish, shit-eating grin he'd ever seen on his face. Malvin shook his head desperately, silently pleading with Viktor not to say whatever he was about to say.
But Viktor ignored him entirely.
"Partner!?" Viktor exclaimed, throwing his hands up dramatically. "Malvin, have you been cheating on me this whole time?!" His voice was loud and theatrical, dripping with mock heartbreak, yet somehow entirely convincing.
Silas froze mid-step, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. "Eh?" was all he managed to get out, his brain clearly struggling to process the sudden accusation.
Malvin, meanwhile, felt every ounce of his patience evaporate. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as he glared daggers at Viktor, who looked far too pleased with himself. Never in his life had Malvin wanted to commit a murder-suicide so badly.