Summary: The mask cracks just a little more.

It started when she laughed.
A little too loud, a little too close, while she was telling a story about her coworkers. He should have smiled politely, nodded, and let it slide. That was the “Sebastian way.” But instead, he found himself leaning back just slightly, watching her, memorizing the movement of her hands, the tilt of her head.
This isn’t necessary. This isn’t part of the plan, he told himself.
Yet his chest tightened anyway.
She caught his gaze and raised an eyebrow, teasing. “What? Did I say something funny?”
He blinked. He should have responded with something neutral. Calm. Controlled. “Merely noting your… amusement,” he said, voice smooth.
But his fingers curled just a little tighter around the tea cup, and a faint tremor betrayed him.
She noticed. Of course she did. “You’re… acting weird,” she said softly, half-smile still there. “Something’s off.”
He froze. That tone—gentle, curious, unjudging—was dangerous. His chest felt heavier than it had a moment before.
“Nothing is off,” he said, forcing the words out carefully.
“You sure?” she pressed, leaning just a fraction closer. “Because… you’re not lying well.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, barely noticeable. His perfect mask flickered, just for a heartbeat, and he looked away. That shouldn’t have happened.
Why did that feel like losing?
“I am… very certain,” he said again, but the tremor in his voice was softer now, almost imperceptible—but she heard it.
She smiled, unknowingly dangerous. “Okay, Sebastian. If you say so.”
And just like that, the quiet, invisible weight hit him full-force.
He should have left it there. He should have returned to the calm, composed demon persona.
But for the first time, Sebastian Michaelis realized something that terrified him more than any contract or battle could:
He cared.
Not just observed. Not just responsible. Cared.
And that… wasn’t allowed.
He excused himself shortly after, bowing politely. But as he walked to the door, his mind raced, heartbeat faster than it had a century ago.
She notices me. She sees what I cannot hide. I am… distracted. A demon cannot be distracted. A demon cannot care. And yet—
He paused at the threshold, fingers brushing the doorknob.
I do care. More than I should. And I cannot stop.
The mask snapped back into place as he stepped outside, calm, composed, unreadable.
But inside, Sebastian Michaelis was quietly unraveling—and for the first time, he didn’t know if he wanted to stop.