The words are barely there but he can just about make out “Come on…” Sylar’s lips are so close to his ear but not quite touching. Just Sylar’s hot breath forces goosebumps on his skin. The time when he could have pushed him away has gone, now with their bodies flush together and that one question hanging in the air over both of them.

“You can’t keep thinking in absolutes.” Sylar had said the last time he’d rejected him. It’s true, and Mohinder knows it. Now it all comes down to an absolute, a choice between two very clearly defined options.

“Yes.” He whispers back, and Sylar’s lips meet his on the sibilant of the S.