Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Fourth always knew who was in the room without looking.

Phuwin had been a constant since they were both small enough to nap on mats with cartoon blankets. Back then, Phuwin was the kid tugging him toward the swings, eyes bright, cheeks sticky from juice. Satang had been there too—quietly slipping him crayons when his broke, pushing him upright when he slouched over worksheets. Even now, Satang’s arrival was the soft thud of a notebook hitting the table, followed by the flat of his palm pressing down on Fourth’s hair to “fix” it, only to make it worse. Phuwin was still the sharp tug on his hoodie drawstring, the quick jostle of a shoulder as he slid into the seat beside him.

Pond had joined years later, when Phuwin started dating him. Fourth remembered that first lunch—Pond sitting a little too neatly, knees drawn in under the table—but by the end of the week, his laugh was loud enough to shake the table. Now, Pond always announced himself with weight—dropping onto the couch hard enough to make Fourth bounce, an arm looping around his shoulders like it belonged there.

Mark came with Pond, the “best friend deal,” as Pond put it. Fourth hadn’t expected much, but Mark’s restless energy was impossible to ignore—drumming on his knee while waiting for food, leaning all his weight into him just to grab something off the coffee table, sprawling until their thighs pressed together like it was no big deal.

Gemini’s arrival was blurrier in Fourth’s mind. One day, Phuwin had simply shown up with someone who looked uncannily like him—same tilt of the head, same sly grin. Fourth remembered shaking his hand, the warmth of Gemini’s palm lingering just long enough to feel deliberate. Now, Gemini was bold, his palm grazing Fourth’s back when slipping past, or standing so near in a crowd their sleeves stayed hooked together.

They’d never been neat about their space. Someone’s legs were always thrown across someone else’s lap. Backpacks became pillows. Pond’s feet ended up wedged under Fourth’s thigh for warmth. Mark absentmindedly braided Phuwin’s hair while half-asleep. Satang used Fourth’s shoulder as a writing surface without asking. And Gemini—Gemini always leaned in when he laughed, forehead bumping Fourth’s temple, voice low enough to feel in his skin.

A room full of half-finished sentences and the soft scrape of pens, the occasional hand reaching over to steal a snack without breaking concentration. Fourth would sometimes look up from his notes to see them—Phuwin slouched against Pond’s side, Mark and Satang arguing over nothing, Gemini staring into space with his fingers idly playing with the cuff of Fourth’s sleeve—and feel something settle deep in his chest.

 It was elbows in ribs, socks on the wrong feet, stolen hoodies, bruises from play fights, and too many people in too small a bed after a night out. But it was warm. Constant. The kind of closeness that made you forget where you ended and they began.

And Fourth knew—this was what home really felt like.

Fourth glanced at the card in his hand—a nine of hearts. He caught Gemini’s eyes just for a moment.

Mark’s shuffle faltered as he nudged Fourth’s knee again, smirking. “You gonna play or just stare?”

Fourth smiled and laid the card down, careful not to let his fingers brush Gemini’s knee too much, though the warmth there was impossible to ignore.

The living room was a chaos of colors—not just from the messy scatter of Uno cards across the coffee table, but from the six personalities crowded around it.

Pond was slouched cross-legged on the floor, grinning like a fox who’d just stolen the henhouse. “Draw four,” he announced with a flourish, slapping the card down like it was a royal decree.

Phuwin groaned, leaning back dramatically against the couch. “Why do you always pick on me?” he whined, but still reached for the deck, pulling cards like a man resigning himself to fate.

“Because you’re too easy to rattle,” Mark said, smirking from his seat beside him. He tapped the edge of his cards against his knee in a neat little stack, every inch the picture of smug confidence.

“Bold talk for someone with three reverses in his hand,” Satang teased, peeking over with all the subtlety of a cat watching a goldfish. Mark shot him a look, but didn’t deny it.

Across from Pond, Fourth sat quietly, his lips twitching in that way that meant trouble was brewing. Gemini, seated beside him, noticed first. “Don’t you dare,” Gemini warned, narrowing his eyes.

Fourth’s smile broke wide as he laid down a skip card. “Gemini… skip.”

The table erupted in laughter. Gemini leaned forward, clutching at his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “You betray me like this? After everything?”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Fourth said, though the smugness in his voice made it worse.

Pond shuffled in closer to the table. “My turn again, right? Guess what—draw two, Phuwin.”

Phuwin dropped his head onto the table with a thud. “This game is rigged.”

Mark snorted. “You’re just bad at it.”

Satang eyed his hand like a gambler on the last roll of the dice. “Alright,” he said slowly, placing down a wild card. “The color is… blue.”

Pond groaned. “Why blue? I don’t have blue.”

Mark leaned back against the couch, flipping through his hand with theatrical flair. “You know what I have?” he said. “I have trauma from the last three rounds.” He slapped down a +2 card like it was a mic drop. “Fourth, enjoy.”

Fourth glanced at the card, then up at Mark with mock calm. “You realize this means war.”

“Oh, honey,” Mark said with a grin, “you declared war when you decided to exist in my game space.”

Phuwin was still busy with his Everest of cards. “I feel like I’m just here to suffer.”

“You are,” Mark said without missing a beat. “You’re the sacrifice to keep the rest of us alive.”

Gemini was wheezing with laughter now, nearly spilling his hand. “Phuwin’s not even playing anymore—he’s just collecting cards at this point.”

Fourth pulled two cards from the deck, eyeing Mark like a sniper calculating the shot. “Alright… your turn, Mark. Let’s see you laugh after this.”

Mark looked down at his cards, then up at Fourth. A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he slapped down a skip, a reverse, and another skip in quick succession.

“That’s right,” he said, leaning forward. “We’re speedrunning your suffering.”

The table erupted into noise—Pond cackling so hard he had to clutch his stomach, Satang trying to figure out how the order of play had even gotten this messed up, and Phuwin dramatically fanning himself with his twenty-plus cards.

“Uno,” Mark added casually, just to twist the knife.

The stack of empty beer bottles on the coffee table was starting to rival Phuwin’s pile of cards. Somewhere between the third round and the fourth drink, the game had turned from competitive to sloppy, and the laughter came easier—louder, warmer.

Mark was halfway through telling some absurd story about accidentally joining a Zumba class when Pond tried to play a red 7 on a green skip.

“That’s not how this works!” Phuwin cried, pointing at the card with exaggerated seriousness. His words slurred slightly, but his outrage was genuine.

Pond squinted at the card, then at the discard pile. “It’s… festive,” he argued weakly.

Gemini had stopped caring about the rules three turns ago. He was leaning into Fourth’s side now, his head resting lazily on his shoulder. “You’re warm,” he mumbled, voice muffled against Fourth’s shirt.

Fourth glanced down, lips twitching. “You’re drunk.”

“Not that drunk,” Gemini said, but his hand had somehow ended up on Fourth’s thigh under the table. Mark, noticing, raised his eyebrows like he’d just spotted an episode unfolding live.

“Gem, are you playing Uno or are you just… playing?” Mark teased, grinning into his beer.

Gemini didn’t move away—if anything, he leaned in more, his knee bumping Fourth’s. “Maybe both,” he said with a lazy smile.

Pond snorted into his drink. Satang was trying not to laugh, but the smirk on his face gave him away.

Fourth rolled his eyes, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. “It’s your turn, Mark.”

Mark slapped down a +4 like it was divine justice. “And it’s your problem now, lover boy.”

Fourth tried to focus on the cards in his hand, but every time Gemini reached over him for a soda, their fingers brushed, warm and lingering just a moment too long. The faint scent of fresh linen mixed with something woody wrapped around Fourth like a quiet invitation.

At one point, Gemini leaned back against the cushions, sinking into the softness like he belonged there. Without really thinking, Fourth shifted closer, the movement small but deliberate. Their legs brushed beneath the faded blanket draped over the couch, the rough denim of Gemini’s jeans scraping softly against Fourth’s own. The heat from Gemini’s thigh seeped through the fabric, warm and grounding, stirring something inside Fourth that was equal parts comfort and something sharper, more electric.

Gemini’s hand appeared, resting lightly on Fourth’s knee. Fourth’s fingers twitched with a nervous excitement before finally reaching out, tracing the outline of Gemini’s hand with slow, careful strokes — a silent answer to that quiet invitation.

Fourth didn’t really know how they’d gotten here—how one evening, without quite realizing it, he had somehow ended up in Gemini’s bed. It wasn’t like he planned it. The night had swallowed them whole. The air was thick with the sharp sting of cheap whiskey and the heavy warmth radiating from their bodies, mingling with the faint, intoxicating scent of Gemini’s cologne. Shadows pooled in the corners of the dim room, bathed in the amber glow of a single lamp.

Gemini’s laugh was low, rough, like gravel sliding from deep in his chest. Fourth caught the slow slide of his shirt down one shoulder, the smooth stretch of skin and the sharp line of his collarbone glowing in the lamplight. His eyes met Fourth’s, dark and steady—less invitation, more certainty—holding him in place.

One moment they were sitting side by side on the couch, the rough weave of the cushions digging into Fourth’s ribs, the scent of worn denim and cedar mingling in the air. The next, their knees were colliding, fingers tangling, and Gemini’s mouth crashing onto his. The heat was sudden, fierce—teeth grazing, lips pressing hard enough to draw out a sound Fourth didn’t know he had. Gemini’s hands clawed into his shirt, pulling him forward until their breaths tangled, shuddering between frantic kisses. Fabric slipped away in quick, things got hot. When the night was done—Fourth was undone, utterly fucked stupid, lost in the messy, beautiful chaos of that night.

That night scorched itself into Fourth’s memory, the desperate heat still pulsing beneath his skin, tightening his stomach and quickening his heartbeat with every recall.

Since that night, Fourth hadn’t been able to think straight. He told himself it was a one-time thing. It had to be. They were healthy boys, after all—normal, curious, prone to mistakes. Surely it was just a fleeting moment, nothing more than a brief lapse in the usual order of things. A fire sparked and burned out before it could catch.

But Gemini didn’t seem willing to let it be just once. He’d corner Fourth in hallways with that sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, eyes dark and bright with something unsaid. In the quiet corners of crowded rooms, Gemini’s hand would brush against Fourth’s—light, deliberate—sending a spark racing up his arm, a pulse that lingered long after the contact ended. Slowly, inevitably, they would end up tangled in each other again—arms locked tight, legs weaving together beneath the dim glow of streetlights, breaths mingling in the heavy, electric dark.

He remembered the heat of Gemini’s hands gripping his hips, the way his mouth devoured Fourth’s with desperate hunger, swallowing every breath and thought. The press of bodies, tight and unrelenting, the sharp rhythm that pushed Fourth past everything he knew—past reason, past control—until his mind hazed over, pure fire and want.

He’d been fucked stupid.

The memory still curled in his stomach, a wild, burning ache that lingered long after the world came back into focus. Every gasp, every bite of Gemini’s lips, every frantic thrust—it was seared into him, impossible to forget.

Each time, the line between friendship and something more blurred a little further. The warmth between them was skin deep—it settled into Fourth’s chest like a knot of fire and confusion, something sharp and alive that refused to fade. Sometimes, when Gemini laughed close enough that Fourth could feel the vibration ripple through his skin, it felt like the whole world tilted just slightly off its axis—unsteady and thrilling all at once.

Now, Fourth had lost count of how many times they’d slipped into this tango. Nights stretched thin with whispered conversations and the soft scrape of Gemini’s fingers tracing patterns on his arm, dawn creeping in slow and golden. Mornings came wrapped in the gentle press of Gemini’s hand against his back, the faint scent of cedar and fresh linen lingering like a promise he couldn’t quite put into words.

Mark slammed down a Skip card with a satisfying smack snapping hi, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “Boom! Pond, you’re benched. Try not to cry.”

Pond shot him a glare, knees tucked neatly beneath the table as usual, the smooth fabric of his jeans cool against his skin. “Your luck’s faker than Phuwin’s ‘strategy’—which is zero.”

Phuwin tugged sharply on Fourth’s hoodie drawstring, the rough cotton catching under his fingers, grinning wide. “Hey, Fourth, stop spacing out!”

Fourth groaned, but he reached for the deck anyway, fingers fumbling slightly as the room spun a little more than it should. Gemini’s hand stayed planted on his thigh, warm and steady, anchoring him even as the game slipped further into chaos.

“Seriously, Mark? Again with the +4s?” Phuwin moaned, swaying in his seat. “You’re making it impossible to win.”

Mark just grinned, eyes shining bright with mischief. “That’s the point, mate. Survival of the fittest.”

Pond, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how to play a blue skip on a yellow reverse, his brow furrowed in concentration that quickly dissolved into a laugh when Satang corrected him. The group was a tangle of groans, laughter, and playful insults, the room thick with the scent of beer and the easy warmth that only comes after hours spent together.

Gemini shifted closer, his breath warm against Fourth’s ear. “You’re taking too long. I might have to help.”

Fourth’s heart skipped. “Help how?”

“Like this,” Gemini murmured, fingers curling around Fourth’s hand trying to help fourth.

“Hey! No cheating!” Phuwin protested, though the grin tugging at his lips showed he wasn’t really mad.

Bottles clinked again and again, their sharp sounds weaving into bursts of laughter that swelled louder, words slurring into teasing jabs and hiccupped jokes. The lamps cast a soft, golden glow that blurred the edges of the room, folding everyone into a cozy haze.

The pile of empty bottles grew taller, wobbling dangerously on the coffee table as the game stretched on. With each round, the players grew louder, their movements slower, and their laughter more unrestrained. Words slurred together, and rules blurred until no one quite remembered what was allowed and what wasn’t.

Mark slouched deeper into the couch, his stories trailing off mid-sentence, replaced by bursts of laughter. Pond tried to focus, but his eyes kept drooping shut before snapping back open. Phuwin’s exaggerated protests turned into good-natured groans, and Satang was nearly doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughter.

Gemini, leaning heavily against Fourth, was utterly carefree now. His hand remained planted on Fourth’s thigh, fingertips tracing lazy, half-drunk circles that sent shivers through Fourth despite the heat radiating from the room. “You’re too slow,” Gemini slurred softly into Fourth’s ear, breath warm and thick with alcohol.

Fourth chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not the one cheating.”

“Cheating?” Gemini laughed, the sound low and teasing. “I’m just… improving your chances.”

Fourth caught Mark’s amused glance across the table, and Mark raised his beer in a mock toast. “At this rate, you two are going to hook up.” (Oh, little did he know)

The game dissolved further into a blur of mismatched cards, wild accusations, and playful jabs. Fourth’s hand shook slightly as he tried to pick a card, and Gemini’s knee nudged his again, a slow pressure that made Fourth’s breath catch.

By the time Mark dropped another +4, the room was a haze of warmth, laughter, and unsteady movements. No one cared about winning anymore

Through it all, Gemini’s hands grew bolder. No longer fleeting brushes, his palm settled firmly on Fourth’s thigh, fingers wandering in slow, teasing circles beneath the worn fabric. Fourth’s breath caught in his throat, heartbeat stammering as Gemini’s hand slid just a little higher, skin meeting skin—a quiet blaze igniting low and steady beneath his ribs.

Fourth’s head spun lightly, the warm buzz humming beneath his skin like a distant drum. His limbs felt heavier, movements slower—eyes shimmering with the soft blur that comes after too many drinks. The laughter and chatter around him seemed to swell and dip, a tide pulling at the edges of his senses.

He pushed himself up from the couch, the rough fabric scratching his palms, legs wobbling just enough to remind him he wasn’t quite steady. The room tilted slightly as he stepped forward, breath catching as Gemini’s hand lingered a moment longer on his thigh before releasing him.

Fourth wove carefully through the scattered cushions and scattered cards, the muffled noise of the group fading behind him. The cool air of the hallway hit his face, sharp and refreshing, nudging him forward with a promise of clarity.

He reached the bathroom door, fingers fumbling slightly as he pushed it open, the cool tile floor grounding him as he slipped inside to wash away the warm haze and find himself again.

The fluorescent light flickered softly overhead as Fourth leaned over the sink, cool water splashing against his flushed cheeks. He cupped his hands, letting the chill slide over his lips and down his throat, trying to steady the tremble that buzzed through his fingers. His reflection in the mirror caught his glassy eyes, searching, unsettled.

A quiet creak announced the door opening behind him. Fourth’s breath hitched before he even turned.

Gemini slipped inside, the door clicking shut softly. The air shifted—the faint, familiar scent of cedar wrapped around Fourth like a whispered promise. Gemini’s presence was close, too close, the heat from his body brushing Fourth’s back as he moved nearer.

His hand found Fourth’s waist, fingers warm and slow, sliding under the hem of his shirt just enough to send a jolt through his skin. Fourth’s pulse spiked, breath catching deep in his chest.

“Can’t let you slip away that easily,” Gemini murmured, voice low and rough, close enough that Fourth could feel the vibration against his neck.

Fourth swallowed hard, the coolness of the sink beneath his palms contrasting sharply with the fire igniting where Gemini’s touch lingered. The quiet hum of the bathroom—the drip of a faucet, their mingled breaths—stretched taut between them, heavy with unspoken things.

Gemini’s fingers traced a slow line along Fourth’s ribs, his touch teasing. Fourth’s body responded before his mind could catch up, every nerve alight, every breath shallow.

The air between them thickened, warm and electric, as Gemini’s fingers curled firmly around Fourth’s waist, drawing him closer. Fourth could feel the steady thrum of Gemini’s heartbeat pressed against his own, each rapid breath mingling, hot, sharp, and alive.

Gemini’s lips brushed against Fourth’s with feather-light heat, soft and teasing at first, sending shivers down Fourth’s spine. The faint scent of cedar and something muskier—Gemini’s skin, maybe—wrapped around him like a heady perfume. Fourth’s pulse hammered in his ears, every nerve ending alive, tingling beneath the surface.

Then the kiss deepened—hungry, demanding, lips parting to pull Fourth into a fierce, burning dance. The rough scrape of stubble against his cheek sent jolts of sensation spiraling through him. Fourth’s hands trembled as they tangled in the soft fabric of Gemini’s shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to feel the heat of skin beneath.

Their bodies pressed together, the cool tile floor forgotten beneath the fire that bloomed between them. Gemini’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along Fourth’s ribs, the contrast of cool touch against flushed skin making every sensation sharper, more intense.

Gemini’s lips crushed harder against Fourth’s, the kiss twisting sharp and fierce. His hands gripped Fourth’s waist with sudden strength, fingers digging in just enough to leave fire trails beneath the fabric. The rough scrape of stubble dragged across Fourth’s cheek, dragging a shiver down his spine.

A sharp nip grazed Fourth’s bottom lip, teeth teasing and tugging until his breath caught, uneven and raw. Fourth’s fingers clenched at Gemini’s shirt, pulling him closer, hungry for the rough edge beneath the softness. Gemini’s nails raked along Fourth’s ribs, cool against flushed skin, sending jolts of sensation shooting through him.

Fourth’s chest rose and fell unevenly as he tugged back just enough to break their kiss. His fingers lingered on Gemini’s cheek, tracing the rough scrape of stubble with hesitant warmth. His voice came out low, breath hitching between words. “Phuwin’s house… we can’t do this here.”

Gemini’s eyes snapped open wide, the fire in them flickering out like a flame snuffed too soon. His body stiffened, lips parting as if to argue, but the words caught—replaced by a sudden, small slump in his shoulders. The fierce edge that had burned moments before melted into something softer, almost shy. He looked away, eyes flickering to the door like a unsure where to go.

Gemini looked like a puppy who’d been kicked—eyes wide and vulnerable, shoulders slumped, searching for a way out that wasn’t there. Fourth couldn’t help but feel a soft tug in his chest. Fourth almost swore he could see ears twitching at the top of his head, and a tail tucked low behind him.

Despite the heat still humming between them, despite the tension that had crackled just moments before, Gemini’s sudden quietness made him look impossibly small and… so damn cute.

Fourth’s heart twisted, warmth blooming behind his ribs. He brushed his thumb lightly along Gemini’s jaw, careful not to break the fragile silence. The gentle touch drew Gemini’s gaze back, hesitant but searching.

Fourth’s fingers curled around Gemini’s wrist, squeezing gently. His voice dropped to a soothing murmur. “We’ll have our time. Just… not here.”

Gemini’s lips parted slightly, and a soft, almost pitiful whine slipped out—like a puppy caught between wanting more and knowing it had to wait. The sound was low and shaky, tugging at something deep in Fourth’s chest.

Fourth’s chest tightened at the soft, hesitant shift in Gemini—the way his usual fire dimmed into something tender and vulnerable. Without thinking, Fourth cupped Gemini’s face gently, thumbs brushing over the rough stubble, tracing the planes of his jaw with slow, careful strokes.

Fourth’s hands twitched before he could stop them. His lips pressed quick, relentless kisses across Gemini’s face—nibbling at the rough stubble on his jaw, peppering the curve of his cheek with tiny, teasing pecks, and catching the tip of his nose between his teeth in a playful nip.

Gemini’s eyes widened, a startled whine slipping free, soft and raw. His breath hitched, body going still for a heartbeat before the familiar spark flickered behind those wide, unguarded eyes.

Fourth’s chest tightened, the wild rush of protectiveness and fierce affection crashing through him, making his fingers clench at Gemini’s hair.

Gemini’s eyelids fluttered closed, breath hitching softly.

Fourth smiled, letting his lips wander—quick, tender kisses peppered across Gemini’s face. A gentle peck to the tip of his nose, a light brush against his forehead, then a slow, lingering kiss along the stubbled cheek again.

Gemini’s lips parted slightly, a soft smile curling at the edge, and Fourth’s fingers tightened gently into the fabric at the back of Gemini’s shirt, pulling him closer, as if to hold this fragile warmth in place.

Fourth pulled Gemini close, the heat of their bodies pressing together in the cramped bathroom. Gemini’s breath fluttered against Fourth’s neck, warm and uneven, and Fourth’s fingers curled tightly around Gemini’s waist, grounding himself in the familiar weight.

His eyes flicked up to the fogged mirror—and froze.

Letters began to spill across the glass, clacking out in jagged rows like a typewriter gone haywire. Random characters spilled over the surface. The letters tumbled and tangled, some overlapping, others fading into mist, racing across the mirror as if a frantic story was being typed out in real time.

Fourth blinked hard, a knot twisting in his chest.

He rubbed his eyes, heart skipping a beat, and glanced back.

The mirror was spotless again—empty, silent.

A shaky laugh bubbled from his throat as the room wobbled gently around him. Fourth’s fingers loosened on Gemini’s shirt, his voice low and amused. “Maybe I’m more drunk than I thought.”

Chapter Text

When Fourth woke the next morning, the world felt like it had been turned up too loud.

His skull throbbed with each pulse of his heartbeat, the sunlight stabbing at his eyes through the thin curtains. His mouth was dry, thick with the taste of stale beer, and his stomach rolled in quiet protest every time he moved.

He groaned, dragging a pillow over his face in a feeble attempt to block out the light. The muffled sounds of clinking dishes drifted in from somewhere down the hall—probably someone raiding the kitchen for breakfast.

For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the inside of the pillowcase, trying to piece together the blur of last night.

Fourth didn’t remember how he’d gotten home.

One minute, they’d been playing Uno, drinking like it was a competition, the next, his memory just… fuzzed out, swallowed by the blur of alcohol. But judging by the faint clatter of pans and the low hum of someone moving around in the kitchen, he figured it had to be Gemini.

It made sense—Gemini was the only one reckless and stubborn enough to haul his drunk ass home instead of leaving him passed out somewhere. And besides, there was a certain rhythm to the sounds—careless, unhurried—that felt unmistakably him.

Fourth groaned into his pillow, half in pain from the pounding in his head, half at the thought of having to get up.

Fourth pushed himself upright with a groan, the room tilting slightly before it settled. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to blink the grit of sleep and hangover out of his eyes.

When he finally looked up, his gaze landed on the mirror across the room.

For a second, all he saw was his own reflection—messy hair, puffy eyes, shirt twisted halfway around from sleeping wrong. But then last night came rushing back. The bathroom. Gemini’s heat pressed against him. And behind it all… the letters.

The way they’d crawled across the fogged glass, clattering in uneven rows, spilling over each other like they couldn’t get out fast enough.

A shiver worked its way down his spine, sharp enough to cut through the hangover haze.

He stared at the mirror now—clean, still, perfectly ordinary—and wondered if he was already too sober for the trick to happen again.

Honestly, last night wasn’t the first time Fourth had seen those letters. They’d been creeping onto mirrors for weeks now—always when the alcohol took hold, when the room blurred and his mind slipped just enough to catch glimpses of something no one else could see.

The letters weren’t neat or orderly. Jagged rows of strange characters, shifting and pulsing like a secret language written in code. They tumbled over one another, some bold and sharp, others fading into misty shadows. No matter how hard he tried to read them, they remained elusive—impossible to decipher, yet impossible to ignore.

Each time the fog rolled over the glass and those letters flickered into life, a heavy weight settled deep in Fourth’s chest. It was like a restless knot tightening tighter and tighter, a silent pull that left his skin tingling and his thoughts tangled.

There was that time at a dimly lit bar, the air thick with chatter and music. He’d stepped away to the restroom, hands trembling slightly as he wiped the fog from the mirror. But instead of his reflection, jagged letters sprawled across the glass, clacking out like the keys of a frantic typewriter. He’d blinked hard, shaken his head, and when he looked again, the mirror was empty.

Another night, after a late party at a friend’s place, Fourth had stumbled into the bathroom, fingers gripping the sink as the room spun. The mirror had fogged instantly, and as his breath clouded the glass, those strange characters emerged—twisting, overlapping, impossible to read but impossible to ignore. He’d stared, heart racing, until the words dissolved like smoke.

Even sober, the memory lingered—the way the letters seemed to crawl just beyond the edge of his vision, haunting the edges of his mind like a half-remembered dream.

He rubbed his temples, pressing his fingers against the dull ache that lingered stubbornly from the night before. The pounding wasn’t just from the whiskey—or at least, that’s what he wanted to tell himself. Maybe there was something else going on… as he sick? Maybe even terminally ill? Maybe it was time to stop pretending it was all in his head and finally get himself checked.

The idea sent a flicker of unease through him—a little scary, sure—but mostly it just felt like one more thing to add to the long list of things he had to deal with. Doctors, tests, waiting rooms. The whole process sounded exhausting.

Still, as much as he wanted to shove the thought away, ignore it like he’d done so far, there was a part of him that wanted answers.

The door creaked open, and Gemini shuffled in, balancing a steaming bowl between both hands. His hair was a mess, sticking up in odd directions, and the oversized hoodie he’d clearly slept in swallowed him almost to the knees.

“Hangover soup,” Gemini announced, voice still gravelly from sleep. “Made it myself.”

Fourth eyed the bowl suspiciously as the faint smell hit him—something between overboiled cabbage and… was that soy sauce? As much as he wanted to appreciate the gesture, the truth was Gemini was a terrible cook. Still, there was something ridiculously endearing about him standing there, trying to look proud while squinting like the light hurt his eyes.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Fourth muttered, taking the bowl anyway.

Gemini’s lips quirked into a smug little grin, like he’d just won some unspoken contest. “I know,” he said, plopping down on the edge of the bed, knees bumping Fourth’s.

The soup sloshed dangerously close to the rim as Fourth lifted it for a cautious sip, already bracing for the taste.

The first mouthful hit him like a confused punch—salty, slightly sweet, and with a strange smoky aftertaste that definitely didn’t belong in soup. Fourth froze mid-sip, eyes narrowing at the bowl, then at Gemini.

“…What exactly did you put in this?” he asked slowly.

Gemini shrugged, entirely unbothered. “Stuff from the fridge. And maybe some of that instant ramen seasoning packet. For… depth.”

Fourth set the bowl down on the nightstand before his stomach could protest, pinching the bridge of his nose with a quiet groan. “You’re trying to kill me before I can even figure out if I’m sick, huh?”

Gemini blinked. “Sick?”

Fourth waved a hand vaguely toward the mirror. “Nothing. Just… saw a ghost in the mirror last night.”

Gemini tilted his head, brow furrowing, like he was deciding whether to take him seriously.

“Whatever,” Fourth muttered, rubbing his temples.

Gemini didn’t say it. Instead, he just nudged Fourth’s leg with his knee and muttered, “Eat the soup.”

Fourth sighed, staring at the bowl like it was a dare. “If I die, it’s on you.”

Gemini’s grin widened, the kind of lazy, self-satisfied curve that made him look like he’d already won something. “If you die, I’m stealing your jacket,” he said, nodding toward the leather one draped over the chair.

Fourth groaned, dragging the spoon through the murky liquid. “Vulture.”

“Realist,” Gemini corrected, leaning back on his hands. “Besides, you’re not dying. You’re just hungover and dramatic.”

Fourth’s eyes drifted back to the mirror again, just for a second. Clear glass. No flickering typewriter clatter, no nonsensical letters spilling across it. Still, the memory prickled at him.

He shoved another spoonful of soup in his mouth, grimacing through the taste. “You really are a terrible cook,” he muttered.

Gemini smirked. “And yet, here you are eating it.”

Fourth didn’t bother to answer. He was too busy forcing himself to swallow—and ignoring the way the back of his mind whispered about the next time the letters might show up.

Gemini flopped onto the bed beside him, the mattress dipping under his weight. “You’re not even thanking me,” he said, feigning offense. “I slaved over that soup for you. Where’s my gratitude?”

Fourth raised a brow. “You want me to thank you for trying to poison me?”

Gemini scooted closer, eyes narrowing playfully. “Not poison—love. It’s an acquired taste.” He tilted his head, resting his chin on Fourth’s shoulder. “Come on. Kiss me.”

Fourth snorted, spoon halfway to his mouth. “You reek of onions and hangover.”

“Then kiss me quick before it wears off,” Gemini shot back, grinning like a fox. His hands were already inching toward Fourth’s waist, tugging at him with shameless persistence.

“You’re ridiculous,” Fourth muttered, but there was no bite in it. Gemini just looked at him expectantly, big dark eyes and a pout so exaggerated it was almost cartoonish.

“Please?” Gemini said, dragging the word out, voice dipping into a mock whine. “Just one.”

Fourth sighed like he was giving in to the greatest burden in the world, but his free hand found Gemini’s jaw, thumb brushing his cheek before pulling him in. “You’re unbelievable,” he murmured—right before pressing a quick kiss to Gemini’s lips.

Gemini chased him for another one immediately. Gemini caught him before he could lean back, one hand sliding to the back of Fourth’s neck, holding him there.

Gemini’s fingers curled softly around Fourth’s neck, cradling it with gentle pressure that was both possessive and tender. With a slight tilt of his hand, he angled Fourth’s face closer, deepening the kiss until their lips melded fully—slow, and electric.

The warmth of his touch spread from his throat down through Fourth’s chest, grounding him even as the kiss ignited a rush of heat.

 “Mm—nope. That’s not enough,” he murmured against Fourth’s mouth, lips brushing with lazy insistence.

Fourth tried to glare, but it was hard to look stern when Gemini was grinning like that, eyes crinkled at the corners, drunk on something far sweeter than last night’s whiskey. “You’re like a leech,” Fourth muttered.

“A cute leech,” Gemini corrected, stealing another kiss before Fourth could protest. His lips lingered this time, softer but no less demanding, until Fourth finally huffed out a laugh and shoved him lightly.

“You’re lucky I’m too hungover to fight you off,” Fourth said.

Gemini just beamed, utterly unbothered. “Guess I better take advantage while I can, then.” He leaned in again, already plotting the next kiss like a thief spotting an open window.

And despite himself, Fourth let him.

They moved through the cramped apartment in a familiar rhythm, the morning sun casting soft light through the curtains. Fourth stood at the sink, toothbrush in hand, when Gemini slipped up behind him, fingers curling around his waist.

Mid-brush, Fourth tilted his head back slightly, and Gemini pressed a quick kiss to his jawline, then lower, soft and deliberate. Toothpaste foam bubbled at the corner of Fourth’s mouth, but he didn’t care.

Later, Fourth rinsed and caught Gemini’s eye in the mirror. Gemini grinned, stepping closer, lips brushing Fourth’s cheek as he reached for his own brush. Between swipes of minty foam, they stole quick, teasing kisses—lips meeting over the sink, laughter bubbling between them.

As Fourth tied his shoelaces, Gemini crouched beside him, capturing his mouth in a slow, deep kiss that left Fourth breathless. They pulled apart just long enough for Gemini to stand and grab his bag, only for Fourth to tug him back by the wrist, fingers threading through Gemini’s.

Buttoning his shirt, Fourth felt Gemini’s hands sneak beneath the fabric, warm and insistent. Every small task—pulling on socks, zipping jackets—was interrupted by soft kisses, lingering touches, the quiet urgency of two people unwilling to let go, even for a moment.

Finally, Fourth gave a tired laugh, breath hitching. “We should probably get going.”

Gemini’s smile was mischievous. “One more kiss,” he said, leaning in before Fourth could argue.

They caught the bus together, still tangled fingers and all, slipping into a worn seat near the back.

Every few paces, Gemini would steal a quick, sneaky kiss—just a brush of lips on Fourth’s cheek, a teasing peck at the corner of his mouth—that made them both grin like kids caught passing notes in class. Fourth giggled softly in return, ducking his head to press a light kiss to Gemini’s temple whenever he got the chance.

Around them, other passengers shot occasional dirty looks their way—raised eyebrows, sideways glances—but Fourth and Gemini only laughed quietly, sharing amused looks and shaking their heads as if daring anyone to say something.

The city sped past the window, but their world stayed small and warm, sealed off by whispered jokes and secret touches.

When the bus pulled up to the university, they stood together for a moment, still grinning, before heading their separate ways.

Fourth adjusted his backpack and made his way toward the School of Law, while Gemini veered off to the School of Business, flashing him a playful wink.

“See you later, lawman,” Gemini called out.

“Don’t get into trouble, business boy,” Fourth replied with a laugh.

Fourth trudged into his lecture hall like a zombie—eyes half-lidded, hair still slightly mussed from the morning, brain running on coffee fumes and leftover kisses. He dropped into his usual seat with a heavy sigh, barely registering the shuffle of students settling around him.

Then he glanced to his right.

Satang was slumped over his desk, face buried in his folded arms, looking like he’d just crawled out of the grave. His hair stuck up in odd directions, and his skin had that faint, sickly pallor that only came from truly catastrophic choices the night before.

“You look like hell,” Fourth muttered, voice low enough not to draw the lecturer’s attention.

Satang lifted his head just enough to squint at him through bloodshot eyes. “You’re one to talk,” he croaked.

Fourth smirked faintly. “Fair. But at least I brushed my hair.”

Satang groaned, letting his head drop back down. “Wake me up when the law starts making sense.”

Fourth leaned back in his chair, pulling out his notes. “Might be a long nap, then.”

The two of them sat in companionable misery, the weight of their hangovers hanging over the desk like an invisible fog.

Fourth slumped further into his seat, head dropping onto his folded arms, only to catch Satang looking even more wrecked than he felt.

Satang groaned, voice rough. “Never again. I swear, never again.”

Fourth lifted his head just enough to squint at him. “Yeah. No more drunk Uno nights if we’ve got uni the next day. Even if Pond and Mark beg us.”

Satang gave a slow, solemn nod. “Even if they bribe us with snacks.”

They stared at each other for a long second, both knowing damn well it was a doomed promise.

Fourth cracked a crooked grin. “This isn’t gonna happen, is it?”

Satang smirked faintly. “Not a chance.”

They both laughed—low, pained, and entirely unrepentant.

They dragged themselves through the lecture like two corpses propped up in chairs—nodding along when the professor spoke, scribbling half-legible notes, and clinging to caffeine like it was oxygen.

By the time the final slide flickered off the screen, Fourth’s brain felt wrung out, every thought sluggish and heavy. Satang looked no better, slouched in his seat with his bag hanging off one shoulder.

“Spent,” Fourth muttered, shoving his notebook into his bag.

“Beyond spent,” Satang groaned, rubbing his eyes. “I think my soul stayed in bed.”

They shuffled out of the room together, every step feeling like it took more effort than it should.

As they trudged down the hallway, Satang shot him a sideways glance, his voice low but laced with curiosity.

“So… what’s going on with you and Gemini? Are you two, like… dating or something?”

Fourth let out a snort, shaking his head with more force than necessary. “No. Absolutely not.”

Satang raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced.

Satang gave him a slow, knowing look. “Because the way you two were sitting—”

“We were drunk,” Fourth interrupted, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s it. Uno makes people weird.”

Satang’s smirk was tired but sharp. “Mm-hmm. If you say so.”

Fourth rolled his eyes and muttered, “I do say so,” before promptly laying his head on the desk, done with the conversation.

“Alright, fine. But you two were definitely more than just playing cards.”

Fourth groaned, pressing his forehead against his folded arms. “We were drunk, Satang. That’s all. Trust me, you don’t want the messy details.”

Satang chuckled, a low, raspy sound that made Fourth peek up. “Messy details, huh? Sounds tempting.”

“Not for your poor hungover brain,” Fourth muttered, reaching for his notebook like it would somehow shield him from further prying.

Satang leaned over, nudging him with an elbow. “You’re lying.”

Fourth snorted, giving up. “Maybe. But it’s none of your business.”

Satang just smirked, clearly enjoying his torment, and let the silence settle over them. Both of them were too drained from the morning’s chaos to argue further, but the quiet hum of amusement lingered between them as they packed up their things.

Fourth hoisted himself forward faster, wincing as his legs reminded him of last night’s excess, and gestured toward Satang.

“Come on. Coffee. My treat,” he said, dragging Satang along the hallway.

Satang blinked, still looking like a zombie, but the mention of coffee perked him up slightly. “Wait—? You’re bribing me?”

“Exactly,” Fourth grabbed Satang by the arm, tugging him along the crowded hallway. “Come on, I’m bribing you,” he said, his voice half-laughing, half-serious.

Satang stumbled to keep up, squinting through his hangover.

" You’ll get your sweet fix, and maybe, just maybe, you’ll stop interrogating me about last night’s Uno chaos.” Fourth smirked, looping an arm around Satang’s shoulder to steady him as they navigated through the throng of students.

Satang groaned, leaning into Fourth’s side. “I can’t believe this is happening. You’re bribing me with caffeine… I guess I can’t resist.”

“Exactly. Caffeine solves everything,” Fourth said, tugging him along with a grin. “So drink up—or, well, drink soon enough. First, we just have to get there.”

Satang rolled his eyes but laughed softly, shuffling after Fourth, already feeling the pull of the promise of coffee dulling his hangover misery—and, conveniently, distracting him from last night’s events.

They finally reached the new café tucked inside the campus, its glass windows gleaming in the morning light. A small crowd lingered near the entrance, drawn by the scent of freshly brewed coffee and pastries.

Satang sank into a chair at a corner table, rubbing his temples with a groan. “I’ll die without caffeine,” he muttered, half to himself.

Fourth grinned, giving him a mock salute before weaving through the small crowd to the counter

Fourth reached the counter, still shaking off the last traces of his hangover. The barista looked up, smiling warmly.

“Hey, Fourth! The usual today?” she asked, cheerful and familiar.

Fourth froze mid-step, blinking. His brows furrowed. Wait… what? My usual? I don’t even come here that often… I’ve never even told her my name…

He shook the confusion off, deciding not to dwell on it. “Uh… sure,” he said with a small shrug, quickly adding, “Actually, make that a Nitro Cold Brew and a Medicine Ball.”

The barista nodded, punching in the order. “Coming right up!” She handed him a small receipt, still smiling, and Fourth stepped aside to wait, glancing back at Satang, who was already settling into his chair, nursing his own hangover with exaggerated misery.

Fourth shook his head faintly, muttering under his breath, “How does she even know my name…” but pushed the thought away. Coffee was priority number one.

The barista brought over the drinks with a bright smile. “Here you go—one Nitro Cold Brew and your Cold Buster.”

Fourth accepted them, the weight of the warm cup instantly grounding him. He carried the drinks over to Satang, who practically slumped in his chair to reach for his.

“Bribe delivered,” Fourth said with a grin, setting the drinks down carefully. “Now, zip it about last night.”

Satang took a careful sip of his Medicine Ball, the steam warming his face. “Mmm… effective bribe,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Fine, I’ll keep quiet… for now.”

They lingered at the café longer than they probably should have, letting the warmth of the drinks and the soft murmur of conversation soothe them. Satang slowly stirred the last of his Medicine Ball, while Fourth finished the last bitter sip of his Nitro Cold Brew, eyes half-closed in contentment.

Satang slung his bag over his shoulder with a groan. “Alright… I’ve got a class now. Don’t die before I get back, okay?”

Fourth smirked, pushing open the door. “I’ll survive. One hour until mine."

Satang snorted, giving him a mock salute. "I'll be taking my leave then"

They parted ways at the campus crossroads—Satang heading toward his lecture hall, Fourth wandering slowly in the opposite direction, letting the morning sun and the lingering coffee warmth soak into him. 

.

.

Fourth’s phone buzzed, and he grinned as he saw his mum’s name flash across the screen. “Hey, Mom,” he answered.

“Finally! I was starting to think you fell into a black hole this week,” his mum said, her voice warm but teasing.

“I have a life, you know, kids my age are usually busy.” Fourth shot back, rolling his eyes.

“Class just ended. Finally.” He said, plopping onto a bench outside the classroom.

“Finally, huh?” she teased.

“I survived,” he said with a smirk. “Barely.”

“Barely? Don’t tell me you were dozing off again,” she said, mock stern.

“I may have blinked a few extra times,” he admitted. “But it was strategic! Helps me absorb the information subconsciously.”

“Uh-huh, strategic. That’s what we’ll call it,” she said, laughing. “So, what else is going on this week? Any disasters I should know about?”

“Disasters? Me? Impossible,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “Well… I did almost spill coffee on myself today, but I saved it at the last second.”

“Bravo! A true hero,” she said, her voice full of amusement. “Are you eating properly? Sleeping enough?”

“I am! Mostly…” he said, shrugging. “Don’t worry, I’m surviving.”

“I worry anyway,” she said, chuckling. “You always keep me on my toes. Don’t make me start calling your Gemini to check on you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said with mock horror.

“Oh, I would,” she said, laughing.

“On that note, say, is Gemini around? I wanted to ask him something,” she asked casually.

Fourth froze for a split second, then scowled. “ What? You care more about Gemini than me now?”

“Sweetheart! Don’t be ridiculous,” she laughed, but there was a teasing edge in her voice. “I just thought—”

“Just thought what? That my week doesn’t matter? That I’m invisible until Gemini is around?” Fourth accused, half-joking.

“Oh, Fourth. You know I love you more than anything,” she said quickly. “But you know how I get… I like to check on both of you.”

“Both of us? Feels like you’ve been obsessed with Gemini ever since you met him,” Fourth muttered, crossing his arms, trying not to smile.

“Me? Never. I’m merely… concerned for his well-being because he has to be around you,” she said, her tone mock-serious.

“Uh-huh. Concern. Right. And I guess I’m just the background character in my own house?” Fourth said, shaking his head dramatically.

“You’re being ridiculous. You’re my main character, always,” she said, her voice softening. “Now, stop sulking.”

Fourth let out a groan, then laughed. “Fine, but I will remember this!”

“Gemini may be cute, but you’re irreplaceable,” she said, teasing him one last time before he hung up.

Fourth shook his head, smiling despite himself. His mum always had a way of making him feel both exasperated and loved at the same time.

Fourth sank onto a nearby bench, the weight of the hangover making him wince slightly as he put his phone down. A new message blinked on the screen.

Speak of the devil, tt was from Gemini.

“Hey… meet me at the park? Need some fresh air. Don’t overthink it.”

Fourth’s brow furrowed. He stared at the message for a moment, feeling the caffeine from the café mingle with a flutter of something else—curiosity, maybe a bit of apprehension. The park wasn’t far, and a little walk might do him good before his class.

He typed back quickly, “Alright… see you there in a bit.”

Pocketing his phone, Fourth stood and stretched, trying to shake off the last remnants of grogginess. The sun felt warm on his face as he started walking toward the park, the quiet of the campus around him contrasting sharply with the lingering chaos of the morning.

When Fourth reached the park, he spotted Gemini almost immediately. The moment their eyes met, Gemini’s face lit up in a way that made Fourth’s chest tighten with fondness. His grin was wide, eyes sparkling, the kind of expression that made it feel like the whole world had shrunk down to just the two of them.

If Gemini had a tail, Fourth thought, it would be wagging furiously. He looked impossibly eager, like a puppy seeing its favorite person after a long day. Fourth couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips, the fondness rising so sharply it made him want to step forward and close the distance immediately.

Gemini’s grin stretched impossibly wide, eyes gleaming like sunlight on water, and he sprinted a few steps forward, arms flailing slightly as if to contain all the excitement inside him.

His shoulders bounced with each step, and Fourth swore his chest tightened at the sight. If Gemini had a tail, it would have whipped back and forth so fast it might’ve knocked over anyone standing too close.

Even though Fourth had only known Gemini for a short while, the fondness he felt was ridiculous, almost impossible. His walls, usually so steady and unyielding, felt like they were melting without him even realizing it.

Maybe it was the way Gemini looked at him—like he’d hung the moon in the sky just for Fourth to admire. Or maybe it was the raw, palpable need Gemini radiated whenever they were together, a quiet insistence that tugged at something deep inside him.

Whatever it was, Fourth couldn’t fight it. His chest tightened, his pulse quickened, and a small, helpless smile spread across his face. He had no idea how he’d fallen this fast, but every fiber of him was already caught.

A soft, romantic melody drifted through the park, catching Fourth off guard. He blinked, frowning, scanning the benches and trees, half-expecting to see someone with a guitar or a speaker tucked somewhere. But the park looked ordinary—no buskers, no picnickers, no source at all.

He first looked toward the benches—empty except for a lone student scrolling on their phone. Then the playground, where a few kids were laughing, their parents chatting idly. No instruments, no speakers in sight. He glanced at the trees, the winding paths, even the small fountain nearby. Still nothing.

His eyes flicked from one passerby to another—a jogger, a couple holding hands, a group of friends sprawled on a blanket. Nobody. Not a single hint of a source. Fourth’s eyebrows knit together, a low, bewildered “Huh?” escaping him.

Shaking his head, he muttered, “Where is that even coming from?”

He shook his head, muttering under his breath, “Weird…”

Before he could dwell on it, his attention snapped to Gemini, who was stepping closer, eyes bright, grin uncontainable. The music faded into the background, irrelevant, as Fourth’s world narrowed to the tilt of Gemini’s head, the sway in his step, the warmth radiating off him. All thought of the mysterious melody vanished, replaced by the impossible, magnetic pull of Gemini right in front of him.

“Hey!” Gemini called, voice bright, almost tripping over the words in his eagerness.

Fourth’s lips curved into a slow smile, his steps quickening without thinking, drawn toward the warmth and energy radiating from Gemini.

Gemini’s grin widened as he closed the distance, and before Fourth could fully register it, he leaned down, pressing a series of quick, teasing kisses along Fourth’s jaw and neck. Each one made Fourth squirm and giggle uncontrollably, a soft, breathless sound escaping him.

“Hey—hey, stop laughing!” Gemini teased, though his own smile was far too wide to be serious.

“I can’t—it tickles!” Fourth managed between giggles, his hands rising instinctively to tangle in Gemini’s hair, pulling him closer.

Gemini laughed too, low and warm, leaning in again for another kiss, this one slower, deliberate, pressing Fourth lightly against him as if he could somehow capture all his energy in that small, impossible contact. Fourth’s laughter bubbled into soft gasps, the world narrowing to just the two of them, the sunshine, and the warmth of Gemini’s presence.

As Gemini leaned back slightly, still holding Fourth close, he grinned and began talking, his words tumbling out in a rush. “You won’t believe the morning I’ve had! Classes were a disaster, everyone was—ugh—and I kept thinking about you. I missed you so much!”

Fourth rolled his eyes, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Dude, stop being dramatic. We were together this morning. Like… literally five hours ago.”

Gemini pouted exaggeratedly, though his eyes sparkled. “Yeah, but that was—morning! Morning Fourth-time doesn’t count. Afternoon Fourth-time is essential!”

Fourth chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous. Totally ridiculous.”

“I know!” Gemini said, throwing his hands up in mock surrender, then leaned in and pressed another quick kiss to Fourth’s cheek. “But you love it.”

They wandered through the park together, shoulders brushing, hands occasionally grazing each other’s, laughing at small, silly things—a squirrel stealing a sandwich, a kid’s balloon floating away, the way the sunlight hit the fountain just right. They bought ice cream from a cart and argued playfully over flavors, shared bites, and dodged other students walking by.

Honestly, it felt like a date, though neither of them had ever used that word aloud. Fourth didn’t mind. He wasn’t in any hurry to put a label on whatever this was between them. He liked the freedom of it, the way things felt effortless, chaotic, and warm without needing definitions.

Gemini skipped ahead, tugging Fourth along by the hand, and Fourth laughed, letting himself be pulled. Every little glance, every small touch, felt heavy with meaning, but Fourth didn’t want to name it yet. Not today. Today was just this—the laughter, the shared ice cream, the stolen kisses, the quiet comfort of being together. That was enough.

After an hour of wandering, laughing, and stealing little kisses between bites of ice cream, Fourth checked his watch and sighed. “I’ve got to head to class,” he said reluctantly.

Gemini’s face fell instantly, lips pouting and eyes wide. “Already? Do we have to stop?” he whined, dragging the word out like it was a tragedy.

Fourth chuckled, ruffling Gemini’s hair lightly. “Yeah… unfortunately. You know I can’t skip Jurisprudence lectures.”

Gemini huffed dramatically but finally let go of Fourth’s hand, giving him one last lingering squeeze before stepping back. “Fine… but you better not have fun without me.”

“I’ll try not to,” Fourth said with a grin, shaking his head at how adorably theatrical Gemini could be. He waved as he started walking away, glancing back to see Gemini still watching him, lips pressed together, trying (and failing) to hide the small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Gemini jogged to catch up, sliding a hand into Fourth’s as he fell into step beside him. “Hey,” he said with a lazy grin, “I’ll walk you back. I’ve got nothing better to do anyway.”

Fourth felt his chest warm, the corners of his mouth tugging into a reluctant smile. “You don’t have to—” he started, but Gemini’s easy presence and that mischievous glint in his eye made the words die on his lips.

“I insist,” Gemini said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “You’re not getting away from me that easily.”

Fourth blinked at him, a small smile tugging at his lips, and let himself squeeze back. There was something comforting about Gemini’s easy presence, about how effortless it was to have him there.

When they reached the hall where they’d have to part ways, Gemini leaned in for a quick, lingering kiss on Fourth’s cheek. “See you later, alright?” he murmured, finally letting go of his hand.

Fourth watched him walk away, shoulders sagging slightly, and that’s when he noticed it—a soft, melancholy melody drifting around the hall. He froze, scanning the empty corridor, ears straining. Passing students carried no speakers, no instruments. The hall seemed ordinary, yet the haunting tune curled around him, subtle and impossible to locate.

“What the hell…” he muttered, brow furrowed. The music seemed to follow him as he walked, fading only when he stopped to look around. No one. No source. Just him—and the strange, ghostly melody that he couldn’t explain.

Chapter Text

Fourth sat stiffly in the psychiatrist’s office, the sterile smell of antiseptic mixing oddly with the faint scent of coffee from the hallway. Dr. Tay leaned back slightly, pen poised over a notepad.

“From what you’ve described,” Dr. Tay said carefully, “these sound like alcohol-related visual hallucinations. Because they’re complex and recurring, we should look at your alcohol use, your medical history, and your overall mental health to rule out other causes—and to ensure your safety.”

Fourth nodded slowly, trying to absorb the words without letting panic creep in.

Dr. Tay continued, voice calm and measured. “Alcohol affects neurotransmitters in the brain—particularly GABA, which is inhibitory, and glutamate, which is excitatory. When someone drinks heavily, glutamate activity is suppressed while GABA is temporarily enhanced, which slows brain activity.”

He paused, letting Fourth take it in before adding, “As the alcohol wears off, the brain can rebound with overexcitation. In some cases, this can trigger visual or auditory hallucinations—like the ones you’ve been experiencing.”

Fourth’s hands tightened slightly in his lap. It sounded clinical, almost… simple. Yet the memory of letters crawling across mirrors, of music that seemed to exist out of nowhere, made it all feel far from ordinary. He exhaled slowly, trying to reconcile the science with the strange, persistent sensations that had been haunting him.

Fourth shifted in his chair, fingers drumming nervously against his knee. “So… can you prescribe something? You know, to stop it?”

Dr. Tay shook his head gently, pen hovering over the notepad. “Not usually,” he said. “Medications aren’t typically needed unless the hallucinations are severe, persistent, or causing significant distress. Since yours mainly happen when you’re drunk, the most direct way to prevent them is to reduce or stop alcohol use. Even occasional heavy drinking can trigger or worsen these visual hallucinations.”

He tapped the pad. “It’s also helpful to track triggers. Keep a diary noting when the hallucinations happen, how much alcohol you consumed, how well you slept, stress levels, or any other substances. This helps us identify patterns and rule out other causes.”

Dr. Tay leaned forward slightly. “You should also get a medical and neurological evaluation. Things like migraines, seizures, or other brain conditions can cause visual hallucinations. Blood tests can check liver function, vitamin deficiencies, or metabolic issues that could contribute.”

“And mental health?” Fourth asked quietly.

“Exactly,” Dr. Tay replied. “We might screen for underlying psychiatric conditions—psychosis, severe anxiety, depression—that could be contributing. Therapy or counseling can help manage stress or anxiety, which sometimes worsens hallucinations. And we’ll schedule follow-ups, especially if hallucinations start appearing even without alcohol.”

Fourth exhaled slowly, letting the information sink in. No pills, just awareness, tracking, and lifestyle changes. It felt… manageable.

Fourth leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples. He could definitely do this—cutting out alcohol for now seemed like a small price to pay if it meant the letters and music stopped. Stupid hallucinations, he thought, a wry half-smile tugging at his lips.

If avoiding a few glasses of alcohol and late-night parties kept his brain from turning mirrors into typewriters and hallways into concert halls, it was worth it. He’d just have to stick to it, at least until Dr. Tay could be sure nothing else was going on.

.

.

The bass hit the pavement like a pulse, rattling up through Fourth’s legs. Neon lights flickered over the boys’ faces—Mark grinning wildly, Pond clutching his stomach from laughing too hard at Satang’s terrible pun. Their arms bumped and shoved each other, reckless and loud, and the crowd’s energy tugged at Fourth like a current.

Mark waved him over, wide-eyed and grinning, and Fourth’s fingers twitched, itching to join in. The pull to loosen up, to grab a drink and let the night blur, prickled at the edges of his resolve. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, chest tightening slightly.

He thought of Dr. Tay’s words, of the letters spilling across mirrors, of music that had no source. He could skip the drinks tonight, the boys would barely notice.

Gemini wasn’t there yet, and that absence made Fourth oddly aware of how quiet his own thoughts had become. He watched the boys get carried away in their chaos, laughing at  boys’ antics, Mark spinning in a lopsided circle, Pond gesturing wildly like he was directing a silent film, Satang rolling his eyes but swaying with the beat anyway. Fourth’s lips tugged into a quiet smile, and he let his shoulders loosen, rocking subtly to the music.

Fourth hovered at the edge, letting the heat and chaos wash over him. The scent of sweat and perfume mixed with the thrum of the speakers, vibrating up through the soles of his shoes. He felt the urge to reach for a drink, the familiar itch to blur the edges of the night—but his hands stayed tucked in his pockets.

Then a familiar warmth pressed against his back, hands sliding around his waist with a firm, possessive grip. His body stiffened for a split second, then recognition hit, and a slow, involuntary smile spread across his face. Gemini’s fingers dug in just enough to anchor him in place, grounding Fourth amid the swirl of lights, bass, and bodies.

“Hey,” Gemini murmured, voice low, playful, brushing against the shell of Fourth’s ear. The sound made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Fourth could feel the subtle press of Gemini’s chest against his back, the warmth radiating through the fabric of their shirts, the faint scent of soap and something uniquely Gemini tickling his senses.

He twisted slightly to look up at him, catching those mischievous, sparkling eyes and the crooked grin that seemed to melt Fourth from the inside out. The music, the neon, the chaos of the club—all of it became background noise, blurred and distant. All that existed was the feel of Gemini’s hands, the heat of his body pressed close, and the electric little shocks of contact that made Fourth’s chest tighten.

“Can’t stay away, huh?” Fourth laughed, voice shaky from the sudden rush of adrenaline and warmth.

Gemini just smirked, leaning in just a fraction closer, brushing his lips near Fourth’s jaw before whispering, “Never.” The words, soft and certain, set off a ripple of heat that crawled down Fourth’s spine, making the thump of the bass beneath them feel almost like a heartbeat in sync with his own.

Gemini laughed, a little breathless, and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry I’m late,” he said, voice casual but quick, like he was trying to smooth over his tardiness. “Phuwin took forever to get ready. Had to drive him here too—he’s obsessed with finishing that stupid group project before anything else.”

Fourth smirked, shaking his head. “Of course he did.”

Gemini nudged him gently with his hip, grinning. “Hey, I tried to get us here as fast as possible. You know me—I can’t miss this.” His hands squeezed Fourth’s waist briefly before letting go, still warm and grounding. Fourth felt his chest tighten slightly at the gesture, the easy affection of it making the club’s chaos feel more like a backdrop than a storm.

Pond and Phuwin were practically glued together, whispering and laughing in a way that made Fourth want to roll his eyes and grin at the same time.

“Gross!” Mark barked, throwing his hands up dramatically. “Get a room, you two, and stop ruining everyone else’s fun!”

Before anyone could protest, Mark grabbed Fourth and Satang by their arms and tugged them toward the dance floor, Pond and Phuwin still giggling and twining fingers as they followed reluctantly. The bass hit harder here, lights strobing across their faces, and Fourth stumbled slightly, catching himself on Gemini, who was grinning like he’d been waiting for this all along.

Their bodies pressed together lightly, moving in time with the beat, shoulders brushing, hips nudging in playful rhythm.

“You’re not half bad at this,” Gemini teased, grinning up at him.

Fourth laughed, shaking his head, and leaned closer so his forehead nearly touched Gemini’s. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The lights flashed across them, strobes catching the curve of Gemini’s grin and the warmth of his eyes. Fourth felt the pull of the music fade into the background—their steps, the press of bodies, the occasional stumble and quick catch by Gemini, it all became its own rhythm.

Gemini twirled him once, fingers tight on Fourth’s, then pressed close again, resting his chin lightly on Fourth’s shoulder. Fourth couldn’t stop the soft laugh bubbling up, a mixture of thrill, warmth, and that dizzy, happy feeling that only Gemini seemed to evoke. Even in the chaos of the club, on the sticky, crowded dance floor, Fourth felt impossibly, absurdly at ease.

Gemini’s hands pressed against Fourth’s waist, thumbs tracing slow, teasing circles that made his ribs hum. Their steps slowed, hips brushing in careful rhythm, the space between them shrinking until Fourth felt the warmth of Gemini’s chest press into his own.

They slipped away from the noisy cluster of friends, weaving through the throng until the shouts and laughter faded, leaving only the beat of the music and the brush of skin. Strobes flickered across Gemini’s face, catching the curve of his grin and the spark in his eyes.

Fourth leaned in slightly, and Gemini’s lips met his in a slow, teasing kiss, soft but insistent. Fingers lingered on his back, thumbs stroking, and the press of hips, the warmth of their bodies, the tiny shivers from every touch made the world outside their bubble dissolve.

The night deepened,  Fourth felt light-headed. Their sways became slower, more deliberate, every touch lingering a heartbeat too long, every laugh, every brush of hair, sending sparks up Fourth’s spine. His chest felt tight and fluttering, dizzy with the pull of Gemini’s gaze, the soft press of hands, the teasing press of hips.

He didn’t need alcohol. Fourth was drunk on Gemini—on the warmth, the energy, the subtle, constant insistence of his presence. Every heartbeat throbbed like a drum in time with their own rhythm, every breath tasted of heat and quiet urgency, and the world beyond the circle they created didn’t exist.

The heat between them thickened until it was almost suffocating, bodies pressed close with barely a breath of space between. Fourth could feel every subtle curve of Gemini’s form beneath his hands, the press of muscle and warmth against his own. Gemini’s fingers lingered along his back, tracing slow, teasing patterns that made him shiver without warning.

Their hips brushed and shifted together, each movement teasing, tantalizing, a silent game of push and pull. Fourth felt the sharp pulse of contact, the friction sparking warmth that spread through him in waves. Gemini’s chest pressed to his, every small movement sending tremors along his spine, and his hair tickled Fourth’s cheek as he leaned in closer.

Whispers and muffled laughs brushed against his ear, low, teasing, carrying the heat of proximity. Every brush of lips, every lingering touch, every breath mingled close enough to feel hot and charged, made the world shrink until nothing existed beyond the press of skin and the pull of desire.

Fourth’s heart hammered, chest tightening, every nerve alive to Gemini’s movements, and the crowd, the music, even the flashing lights faded into nothing.

Gemini shifted, tilting Fourth so their hips met fully. The press of their bodies was deliberate, slow, letting heat and friction build with each roll. Fourth shivered, a soft moan escaping as their bodies pressed closer.

Fourth’s body responded instinctively, pressing into Gemini, hips moving in tandem, fingers lingering along his shoulders. Waves of warmth pooled low, spreading upward as their bodies rocked together.

Fourth’s breath hitched as their hips rolled together, mouths so close, breaths mingling. A sudden, sharp awareness struck him—this felt… almost indecent. The heat, the closeness, the way Gemini’s hands traced along his sides, it all felt like it was crossing a line he hadn’t expected to approach, especially in a place where someone might see.

His body still responded, quivering with sensation, soft whimpers escaping despite the thought tugging at the back of his mind. He pressed back slightly, heart hammering, trying to regain some sense of control. “G–Gem… we… someone could—” The words caught in his throat, swallowed by a rush of breathy moans as Gemini’s lips brushed against his jaw.

Gemini’s eyes met his, a faint, almost knowing smile tugging at the corner of his lips, but he didn’t stop. If anything, his movements were more deliberate, as though testing Fourth’s limits, making him feel both exposed and utterly claimed.

Fourth’s fingers trembled against Gemini’s shoulders. The thrill, the warmth, the undeniable pleasure—mixed with the thought of how inappropriate this all could feel in public—made him shiver even more, caught between desire and the sudden awareness of just how close they were to crossing a line.

Gemini leaned close, lips hovering over Fourth’s, their mouths opening slightly, breath mingling in the heated space between them.

Fourth’s knees wobbled, chest rising and falling fast, a flush spreading across his skin. His lips parted in a ragged gasp, a soft whine slipping out before he could stop it.

Fourth’s chest rose and fell rapidly, every inhale tasting of Gemini, every exhale caught in a soft gasp. Gemini mirrored him, letting his own breath wash over Fourth’s lips, the warmth and rhythm of their breathing intertwining.

Their eyes met briefly, dark and heavy-lidded, before their faces drifted closer, lips brushing, tongues teasing just slightly, drawing low moans from both of them.

Hands traced along backs and sides, hips rolling in time, every movement slow and deliberate. The shared heat, the mingling of breath, the friction of their bodies made the air around them almost electric, every nerve alive with the intimacy of the moment.

Fourth shivered, soft whimpers spilling out as he pressed into Gemini fully. Breaths mingled, shallow and quick, warm and intoxicating. Fourth could feel the rise and fall of Gemini’s chest against his own, the soft brush of lips and cheeks, the occasional sigh that vibrated through the air between them. The scent of sweat and cologne wrapped around him, sharp and dizzying, making it impossible to think about anything else.

Gemini’s lips hovered near Fourth’s ear, warm breath brushing his skin. “Do you… want to get out of here?” he murmured, voice low, heavy with intent.

Fourth’s chest heaved, eyes wide, a flush creeping over his skin. “Y-yes… oh god, yes,” he breathed, voice trembling, nearly breathless. His mind felt foggy, overloaded—pleasure, heat, and raw need leaving little room for rational thought.

Gemini’s hand lingered possessively along Fourth’s side, thumb tracing slow circles as he leaned closer. “Then let’s go,” he murmured, dark eyes glittering with the same desperate hunger Fourth could feel coursing through him.

They moved almost as one, staggering slightly as delirium and desire tangled them together. Every touch, every brush of skin set off sparks, making it impossible to think clearly. Fourth’s whimpers and soft moans punctuated the chaotic rush of movement, his body trembling as he pressed into Gemini’s, hips brushing, lips barely able to part without catching again.

Gemini’s hand slid along Fourth’s back, fingers digging in just enough to keep him close as they made for the door. .

.

Fourth’s back hit the wall before he’d even realized Gemini had moved. A startled breath escaped him—cut short when Gemini’s hand slid up and closed around his throat.

Not crushing. Just enough to remind him that every breath now belonged to Gemini.

Fourth’s pulse fluttered wildly beneath those fingers, each beat echoing in the warm cage of Gemini’s grip.

The kiss was reckless, almost bruising, the kind that stole air and gave back nothing but hunger. Fourth’s toes curled in his shoes, knees threatening to give out as his body instinctively leaned into it, chasing more even when he didn’t know what more meant. The world blurred at the edges, narrowing to the taste of Gemini—warm and sharp, like metal and midnight—and the faint rasp of stubble brushing his cheek.

Gemini’s thumb dragged idly along his jaw, a lazy counterpoint to the insistent pressure of the kiss. Fourth’s hands, unsure where to go, caught briefly at Gemini’s shirt, fingers curling in the fabric as if he could steady himself against the dizzy pull.

 Fourth’s lungs burned, but he couldn’t tell if it was from the lack of air or the way his whole body felt strung tight, tuned to every inch of contact.

Gemini’s lips curved faintly, as though he’d just proven a point.

Fourth’s voice, when it came, was a low, unsteady rasp. “You—”

But Gemini’s fingers tightened ever so slightly, and the rest of the words dissolved on his tongue.

Gemini’s grip shifted again, the pressure at Fourth’s throat easing just enough to let him breathe—but not enough to let him forget it was there. His thumb traced a slow path along the curve of Fourth’s neck, the warmth of his skin branding every inch it touched.

The moment his lips parted, Gemini’s tongue slipped in—slow, teasing. It slid against his own with a heat that sent sparks racing down his spine. The taste was intoxicating, warm, faintly sweet, and edged with something he couldn’t name, like the memory of wine on someone else’s lips.

Gemini’s tongue moved with a patience that made Fourth’s knees weaken, sweeping deep one moment, retreating the next, tracing lazy patterns that left him trembling. Every stroke felt like a quiet claim, a slow unraveling of the tight knot in his chest.

A soft, helpless sound escaped him—half sigh, half whimper—and Gemini caught it greedily, deepening the kiss just enough to make the world tilt. Fourth’s toes curled, his fingers tightening in Gemini’s shirt until the fabric bunched beneath his knuckles.

The hand at his throat tilted his head slightly, allowing Gemini’s tongue to explore him more fully, drawing shivers from places he didn’t know could ache with pleasure. Each brush, each gentle press, felt like it was meant to linger in his memory long after the moment ended.

 His hand slid from Fourth’s throat to his jaw, fingers curling possessively, guiding him a step closer. Then in one fluid motion, Gemini sank back into the chair behind him, tugging Fourth forward by the waist. Fourth stumbled, catching himself on Gemini’s shoulders—but Gemini was already pulling, guiding him down until he was straddling his lap.

The heat between them was immediate, almost overwhelming. Fourth could feel the solid press of Gemini beneath him, the warmth radiating through layers of fabric. Gemini’s hands settled low at his back, broad palms splayed as though claiming every inch they touched.

Fourth’s breath caught again, this time for an entirely different reason.

Gemini leaned in, his mouth brushing along Fourth’s jaw before finding his lips once more, slow and deep. His tongue teased its way back inside, unhurried but relentless, tasting him like he intended to memorize every note. The position made the kiss feel different—closer, hungrier—like there was no space left to hide in.

Fourth’s hands slid into Gemini’s hair, fingertips tangling in the soft strands. The faintest groan vibrated in Gemini’s chest, felt more than heard, sending a delicious shiver through Fourth’s body. Gemini’s grip at his back tightened, pulling him closer until their chests pressed flush, heat and heartbeat mingling.

Gemini leaned back just enough to really look at him, his eyes trailing over Fourth’s flushed face, down the curve of his throat. His hands slid up beneath the hem of Fourth’s shirt, palms warm against his skin, mapping the lines of his waist and ribs with deliberate care.

Fourth shivered, the contrast of calloused fingertips on sensitive skin making his breath catch. G–Gem…” His voice broke on the name, breathless. Gemini’s mouth curved into the faintest smirk before he caught the fabric in both hands and lifted—slowly, deliberately—forcing Fourth’s arms up until the shirt was gone, discarded somewhere on the floor.

The sudden rush of cool air over his bare skin made every nerve stand on edge. Gemini’s gaze lingered for a beat, almost predatory, before his head dipped.

His lips brushed over Fourth’s collarbone first—light, testing—before trailing lower. Fourth’s breath hitched again when Gemini’s mouth found one nipple, warm and teasing. He circled it with the barest flick of his tongue, slow enough to make Fourth’s spine arch without thinking.

“A-ah—” Fourth’s head tipped back, the sound slipping out before he could stop it.

The wet heat was maddening, each soft swirl followed by the faint scrape of teeth, sending a pulse of sensation straight through him.

“God… that feels—” Fourth’s words dissolved into a moan as Gemini’s free hand came up to toy with the other nipple, thumb rolling lazily over the peak while his mouth worked the first in deep, unhurried attention.

Fourth couldn’t stop the quiet, broken sound that escaped him, his fingers tightening in Gemini’s hair as pleasure curled low and sharp in his belly.

Gemini hummed against him, the vibration sinking deep into his skin, before switching sides without warning, giving the same aching care to the other. Fourth was already trembling, his breaths coming uneven and shallow.

Gemini’s lips pulled back just enough to meet Fourth’s gaze, a dark glint in his eyes that made Fourth shiver. Without warning, one of Gemini’s fingers slid toward his parted lips.

Fourth’s breath hitched. “Ah…” His voice was soft, needy, tinged with both surprise and anticipation.

Gemini pressed the tip of his finger gently against Fourth’s lips. “Open for me,” he murmured, low and commanding.

Fourth obeyed almost instantly, lips parting as Gemini’s finger slid inside. The warm, slick heat made him whimper quietly. He tasted  Gemini’s finger, the sensation strange and intoxicating.

“Mm… just like that,” Gemini murmured against his lips, thumb brushing teasingly along Fourth’s jaw.

Fourth moaned around the finger, muffled. His hands fisted in Gemini’s shoulders, trying to anchor himself while the pleasure curled low and sharp in his stomach.

Gemini hummed approvingly, sliding the finger slowly, teasingly, back and forth, pulling soft whimpers and gasps from Fourth. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against Fourth’s ear, his breath hot.

Then, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, Gemini leaned closer and gently nipped the lobe. The soft bite sent a jolt of heat straight through Fourth, making a sharp gasp escape him. “Nnnhhgmm…” His voice was breathy, trembling with surprise and pleasure.

Gemini hummed against his skin, teeth grazing lightly as he slowly pulled his fingers out of Fourth’s mouth. The sudden absence made Fourth whimper softly, lips parting instinctively as if reaching for what had just been there.

The he slid his hand dowm Fourth’s back slid lower, fingertips grazing the dip of his spine, then the curve just above his waistband. Fourth tensed in his lap, a soft, shaky breath escaping him.

“Gem…” It was barely more than a whisper, but it carried the same desperate tremor as his earlier pleas.

Gemini didn’t speak. His gaze stayed locked on Fourth’s face as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, warm skin meeting warm skin. Fourth’s breath hitched instantly, hips shifting in a helpless response.

The slow crawl of Gemini’s hand downward felt torturous—each inch a tease, each pause deliberate. His thumb brushed over the sharp jut of a hipbone, and Fourth let out a faint whimper, his fingers tightening in Gemini’s shoulders.

“Please…” The word came out rough, caught between a plea and a moan.

Gemini hummed low in his throat, the sound vibrating against Fourth’s skin as his other hand pressed lightly at the small of his back, keeping him firmly in place. He let his fingertips trail along the top edge of Fourth’s underwear, dipping just enough to make him squirm, slightly pressing his index finger tip to Fourth’s entrance. Fourth’s breath hitch as Gemini’s fingers brushed the sensitive flesh at the back of his thighs.

Fourth bit his lip, but the quiet, breathy sounds still slipped out—small gasps and muffled moans that only seemed to make Gemini slow down more.

By the time Gemini’s fingers slid fully inside, the heat of his touch against that most sensitive skin made Fourth’s whole body jolt, his breath leaving him in a shaky rush. His hips twitched forward involuntarily, and Gemini’s lips quirked into a satisfied smile.

Slowly,  he slid his finger deeper, feeling fourth close around him, warm. He lets out a deep moan as he began to pump it in and out of Fourth.

Fourth’s eyes roll to the back as the pleasure threatens to drown his whole being. A slow, simmering ache curling low in his abdomen pulsed as Gemini added a second and third finger stretching Fourth out.

Fourth whines as Gemini pulls his fingers out, the loss immediate, palpable. His fingers hooked beneath the waistband, tugging gently but firmly. Fourth leaned into him, hips pressing instinctively, letting Gemini guide him.

Slowly, Gemini helped slide the pants down over Fourth’s hips, teasingly brushing along his thighs as the fabric passed. Fourth’s knees bent slightly as the pants pooled around them, and a soft, breathy moan escaped him.

Gemini shifted slightly in his chair unbuckling his pants and undoing his zip, tilting Fourth with him until he could feel the hard press of Gemini’s hips against his own. The sudden, deliberate weight made a sharp gasp escape Fourth, hips pressing instinctively forward.

Then Gemini guides his length to Fourth’s entrance pressing in lightly. Fourth’s breath hitched hard and broken, as he latched onto Gemini’s neck with trembling fingers, clutching like a lifeline in a storm.

Then he placed his hands on Fourth’s waist, pushing him down, making him sink in inch by inch.

“ Gem—oh!” Fourth’s voice cracked, breath hitching as every nerve in his body ignited.

Gemini’s hands kept him firmly in place, fingers tracing teasing patterns along his sides while he rolled his hips slowly into Fourth. The friction, the warmth, the steady, languid motion made Fourth shiver violently, toes curling and knees trembling in response.

“Mm… you feel so good,” Gemini murmured, low and rough, lips brushing against Fourth’s jaw, tongue flicking just briefly at the sensitive skin there. Every movement of his hips drew soft whimpers and broken moans from Fourth.

“Ah… yes… oh god… Gem…” Fourth’s hands fisted in Gemini’s shirt, pulling him closer, unable to stop the sounds that tumbled from his lips. Each buck of Gemini’s hips made him gasp, a shudder running down his spine, pleasure pooling low and building relentlessly.

“Ah… Nnhggnn…” Fourth’s voice was ragged, breaking into soft, breathy moans as his body instinctively arched toward Gemini, craving more contact. His hands clutched Gemini’s shoulders, nails grazing skin as if trying to hold himself together.

Gemini hummed against his neck, letting the vibration sink deep into Fourth’s skin, fingers tracing slow, teasing patterns that made his toes curl. “So desperate for it… aren’t you?” Gemini murmured, shifting his hips just slightly, drawing a sharp, involuntary gasp.

“Yes… mm… I… I can’t…” Fourth’s words dissolved into broken moans, his whole body trembling, insides pressing into Gemini’s cock. The friction, the heat, the closeness of their bodies made every gasp, whine, and plea feel like a live wire running through him.

Gemini tilted Fourth’s head upward slightly, exposing his throat and jaw, kissing him with deliberate pressure—lips, teeth, tongue—all moving in unison with the hand that still teased beneath. Every press of their bodies, every roll of Gemini’s hips, amplified the sensation, sending waves of shivers down Fourth’s spine.

“Mmm… you feel so perfect like this,” Gemini murmured against his lips, capturing a soft whine mid-escape. His voice was low, rough, vibrating against Fourth as pleasure coursed through him.

Fourth moaned, hips pressing instinctively against Gemini’s, a soft, desperate sound escaping. “Oh… oh god… yes… Gem… mm…” Each syllable was ragged, broken, full of need.

The kiss deepened, slow and consuming, tongues exploring, lips pressing and teasing, matching the rhythm of Gemini’s hand and the roll of his hips. Fourth’s entire body trembled, caught between the waves of pleasure that were building and the heat of Gemini’s presence beneath him.

Gemini’s lips finally pulled back just slightly, brushing Fourth’s jaw and down his neck in soft, lingering kisses. “Mine…” he whispered, voice low and possessive.

Fourth’s breath was ragged, soft whimpers spilling out uncontrollably. His whole body was coiled in pleasure, every nerve alive, hips moving subtly with Gemini, giving in fully to the sensation and the closeness.

“Ah… Gem… ohng—!” Fourth moaned, voice breaking into a high, shivering whine. His hips pressed instinctively, matching the roll and grind of Gemini beneath him. The pleasure coiled tighter, spiraling through him, until every inch of his body seemed suspended on a live wire. The teasing, the warmth, the closeness, the combined friction—it all pushed him past the edge.

A sharp, involuntary cry tore from him, his back arching into Gemini as the first wave hit. His toes curled, knees trembling, and a string of breathy moans tumbled from his lips as the sensation cascaded through his body, shattering him completely.

A low, guttural moan rumbled from Gemini’s chest, vibrating through Fourth as he pressed instinctively into him. “Ah… fuck… Fourth…” His voice was rough, strained

Fourth’s moans grew louder, ragged, breathless, his fingers digging into Gemini’s shoulders, hips tilting with every desperate roll. “ oh—! Ah… don’t stop…”

Gemini’s grip tightened, his own body shuddering as he gave in fully, letting a deep, primal moan tear from his throat. Heat, friction, and pleasure coursed through them both, each movement, each touch amplifying the other’s release.

They tumbled together over the edge, moans and gasps mingling, bodies trembling, hips pressing instinctively as the waves of pleasure crashed through them, leaving them heaving, sweat-slick, and clinging to one another.

Gemini rested his forehead against Fourth’s temple, breathing heavy, hands still possessive along his back and waist. “Mine… you’re mine,” he murmured, voice low and intimate, and Fourth could only let out a soft, exhausted whine in response, pressing closer, still trembling.

Gemini’s thumbs traced slow, gentle circles along Fourth’s sides, lingering just a little longer than necessary, as if savoring the closeness. “Only mine,” he said softly.

Chapter Text

Fourth groaned into the pillow, every muscle in his body aching as if a truck had actually run him over. His head throbbed in time with his pulse, a dull, relentless drum behind his eyes. Even turning over felt like an effort, a battle against gravity and the lingering haze of the night before.  

The faint light creeping through the curtains did nothing to help, it only reminded him of the chaos of yesterday—the pounding bass, the heat, the dizzying closeness of Gemini on the dance floor. His stomach churned slightly at the memory, and he cursed softly under his breath, dragging a hand across his face.  

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew water, food, and a long shower would help, but for the moment, Fourth stayed sprawled under the covers, willing the world to stop moving while his body demanded slow, painful revenge for his fun-filled but brutal night.  

Fourth groaned, curling deeper into the sheets as the dull ache in his head throbbed in time with his pulse. The scent hit him first—warm, musky, unmistakably Gemini.  

He blinked blearily and realized the bed beside him was empty. Gemini must have woken earlier. The faint hint of his cologne lingered, clinging to the pillows and sheets, making Fourth’s stomach twist in longing.  

He stayed still for a moment, letting the warmth of the bed and the lingering traces of Gemini wrap around him.  

A few minutes later, the bedroom door creaked open, and Gemini appeared, carrying a tray that wobbled precariously. Fourth squinted through the haze of his hangover, taking in the sight unevenly cut toast, a suspiciously lumpy scrambled egg, and a cup of steaming tea that looked like it had been brewed by someone who didn’t really know what they were doing.  

“Morning,” Gemini said, grinning sheepishly, one eyebrow quirking up. “I brought breakfast… sort of.”  

Fourth groaned softly, partly from the hangover, partly from the sheer disaster of the tray. “You made… that?” he asked, voice weak but tinged with amusement.  

Gemini shrugged, cheeks pink. “I tried, okay? It’s the thought that counts.”  

“Why were you up so early?” Fourth said, raising an eyebrow.  

“Yeah… I woke up early today to call your mum,” Gemini said casually.  

Fourth blinked, then smirked, pointing at him. “Wait. Hold on. You woke up early… to call my mum ? Are you seriously trying to steal her from me?”  

“Steal her? Me? Never,” Gemini said, feigning innocence while crossing his arms. “I just… wanted to make sure she wasn’t missing me too much.”  

“Oh, of course. That’s why you’re invading my mom’s personal attention quota,” Fourth said, wagging a finger at him. “Typical Gemini, stealing my mum under my nose.”  

“Hey, she’s my favorite too,” Gemini said, shrugging, smirking. “But aren't you going to eat your breakfast? Scoot.”  

Despite the lopsided toast and questionable eggs, Fourth found himself smiling, even laughing a little. He sat up, letting Gemini carefully set the tray on his lap, shaking his head fondly.  

Fourth took a tentative bite, bracing himself—and immediately regretted it. The toast was burnt at the edges, the eggs unevenly cooked and strangely rubbery, and the tea tasted like someone had tried to boil leaves in hot water without actually making tea.  

He gagged slightly, trying to hide it behind a weak laugh. “Wow… this is… something,” he managed, voice tight with suppressed grimace.  

Gemini’s eyes widened, panic flickering across his face. “Wait, it’s… not good?”  

Fourth waved a hand quickly, trying to save face for him. “It’s… unique. Yeah, very… unique,” he said, suppressing another cough, his brain still foggy but his heart strangely warmed by Gemini’s earnest effort.  

Gemini pouted, leaning closer. “You don’t have to lie, you know.”  

Fourth grinned despite himself, shaking his head. “I know, I’m just… impressed you even keep trying at this point. That counts for something.”  

The tray might have been a disaster, but the moment—Gemini hovering anxiously, eyes wide and hopeful—was impossible to resist.  

Fourth set the tray aside, the taste of disaster forgotten, and leaned forward. Gemini’s worried little frown, the way his cheeks flushed, the earnest tilt of his head—it was too much.  

Before Gemini could react, Fourth pressed his lips to his, soft and quick at first, then lingering just a moment longer. Gemini froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide, then melted into the kiss, small hands resting on Fourth’s chest as if to anchor himself.  

When they pulled back, Fourth chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from Gemini’s forehead. “You’re ridiculous,” he murmured, voice warm, “and so cute I can’t even deal.”  

Gemini’s smile returned instantly, wide and sheepish, a little shy, a little mischievous, and Fourth felt that tug in his chest again—the one that made even burnt toast feel like the sweetest thing in the world.  

Fourth leaned in again, pressing a hotter, deeper kiss to Gemini’s lips, hands sliding along his waist as their breaths mingled, hearts hammering in sync. Gemini’s fingers threaded into Fourth’s hair, tilting his head slightly, and the kiss deepened—hungry, urgent, full of the kind of heat that made the room shrink around them.  

From the corner of his eye, Fourth caught a flash on the mirrored corner of Gemini’s room—a tangle of jagged letters spilling across the glass, shifting and pulsing like they were alive. He blinked, heart skipping. The kiss faltered for a split second as his eyes widened, the familiar knot of unease curling in his chest.  

W-what the hell… no, no, no… it can’t be. His eyes locked on the mirrored corner, and his stomach did a cartwheel. The jagged letters were there—shifting, pulsing, alive in a way that made his chest tighten.  

Gemini hummed softly against him, oblivious, pressing closer. Fourth swallowed, trying to push the sudden shock aside, focusing on the warmth, the heat, the feel of Gemini pressed against him—but the letters lingered at the edge of his vision, impossible to ignore.  

Fourth pulled back sharply, stepping away as his chest heaved. His eyes darted to the mirror again, but the letters had already faded into nothingness. Panic fluttered in his stomach, a cold rush that made his hands tremble.  

Gemini froze, brow furrowing in confusion. “Fourth… what’s wrong?”  

Fourth swallowed hard, trying to force his racing heart to settle. “I… I forgot,” he said quickly, fumbling for something plausible. “I’ve got a morning lecture… need to get going.” His words came out tight, rushed, and he snatched the nearest shirt, yanking it over his head in a flurry, tugging it down to cover himself as best he could.  

Gemini tilted his head, his lips parting as if to question him, but something in Fourth’s panicked expression made him pause. Fourth seized the moment, grabbing his bag and shoving his feet into his sneakers, not daring to meet Gemini’s eyes for more than a fleeting second.  

Fourth barreled out of Gemini’s apartment, tugging the door shut behind him. The morning light felt too bright, the hall too long, as if the world itself had shifted. His chest heaved, and his fingers curled tight around the fabric of his shirt.  

He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol last night, had stayed sober like Dr. Tay advised. Yet those letters—alive, pulsing, impossible—had flashed across Gemini’s mirror. Panic churned in his stomach. Not possible… it can’t be.  

Every step rattled his thoughts, the echo of his shoes against the hall mixing with the memory of the jagged, shifting script. This can't be happening. Not without alcohol. I… I can’t be seeing them sober. Not now.  

Fourth’s lungs burned as he slowed to a frantic walk, chest rising and falling unevenly. His shirt was twisted in his fingers, knuckles white, as he scanned every reflective surface in the hallway. The jagged letters in Gemini’s mirror refused to leave his mind, each image replaying itself with a cruel insistence.  

He zigzagged through the empty corridors, shoving past doors and leaning against walls for a second of grounding. Nothing around him indicated the source of the hallucinations—no lights, no speakers, no hidden prank—but the memory of the pulsing letters made the air feel heavier, denser.  

Reaching the edge of the campus, Fourth slowed slightly, trying to pull himself together. The familiar paths and buildings offered little comfort, even the sunlight seemed too bright, too intrusive, as if the world itself was pressing in on him. He knew he had to see Dr. Tay again, to get some kind of explanation, to stop the fear gnawing at the edges of his mind. But for now, he just kept moving, one unsteady step at a time, trying to put distance between himself and the impossible sight that had shattered his morning.  

The air seemed to pulse around him, each step syncing with the slow, mournful melody that wound its way through the empty campus paths. Fourth froze mid-stride, pupils dilating as his eyes swept over the surroundings. The benches were empty, lampposts stood like silent sentinels, even the trees swayed without a whisper of life. There was no speaker, no radio, no stray musician hiding in the shadows. Nothing—but the music persisted.  

His stomach knotted, twisting with disbelief and rising panic. “W-what the hell…” he muttered, voice low and shaky. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, an unsteady drum beneath the impossible reality pressing down on him. Mirrors had shown him letters before—odd, fleeting—but this? This was a new layer, an auditory specter threading through the world around him.  

He clenched his teeth and shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, trying to anchor himself to something solid, tangible. Every rational part of his mind screamed that it was impossible, yet the melody, aching and intimate, seemed to wrap around him, squeezing his chest with cold, invisible fingers.  

He swallowed hard, jaw tight, fingers digging into the fabric of his pockets as if he could hold himself together physically. His teeth clenched, a sharp counterpoint to the fluttering panic rising in his chest. Every logical neuron screamed that what he was hearing was impossible—no one could be playing music here—but the melody was insistent, clear and crystalline, each note weighted with a kind of sorrow that twisted his stomach and left a hollow ache in his ribcage.  

Fourth’s lips pressed into a thin line as he shook his head, trying to laugh it off—if only to convince himself. “Great,” he muttered under his breath, “first mirrors, now ghost DJs. Really nailing this whole ‘losing it’ thing.”  

Fourth forced his legs to move, each step unsteady, boots scraping against the pavement, a futile rhythm against the haunting tune. He zigzagged, quickening his pace, trying to escape the invisible orchestra his mind insisted on playing. But no matter how far he pushed forward, how many corners he rounded, the music clung to him, wrapping around his senses, taunting him.  

“Oh, brilliant. Mirrors typing, invisible bands playing… really pulling out all the stops, brain. Bravo.” He jabbed a finger at the empty path ahead like he was scolding some invisible mischief-maker. “Next, what—flying llamas? Sure, why not. Keep it classy, hallucinations.” .  

.

.  

Fourth settled into the chair opposite Dr. Tay, running a hand over his face as he tried to summarize the past week. “So… updates,” he began. “I’ve stayed away from alcohol—no drunk Uno nights, no late-night beers, none of it. The mirror letters haven’t appeared on my own mirrors while sober, which is good. But…” He hesitated, swallowing hard. “…they showed up in Gemini’s room. I know, it sounds insane. I wasn’t even drinking. And then, there was music—melancholy, like someone was playing a sad song just for me—drifting around the campus. No one was there, nothing was playing.”  

Dr. Tay nodded slowly, making notes. “So the visual hallucinations appear primarily with alcohol, but you’ve now observed them sober in a different environment. And the auditory experiences occurred without alcohol as well?”  

“Exactly,” Fourth said, leaning back, trying to keep his tone light. “It’s like my brain’s decided to throw a full-on performance, letters on mirrors, invisible soundtracks… maybe it’s trying to tell me I should join a haunted art exhibit or something.”  

“Alright,” Dr. Tay said. “There are a few possibilities here. First, primary psychiatric disorders—schizophrenia, schizoaffective disorder, other psychotic conditions—can produce this sort of experience. Then, neurological issues, seizures, brain lesions, even migraines with aura. And finally, medical or metabolic causes—vitamin deficiencies, infections, thyroid problems. Each of these can produce hallucinations.”  

Fourth raised an eyebrow. “So basically, I could be a brain mutant, a walking psych ward, or just malnourished?”  

Dr. Tay allowed a small smile. “I wouldn’t put it that dramatically, but yes, we need to explore all possible causes. The fact that the hallucinations are spreading—visual letters to auditory music—means this requires prompt evaluation.”  

“So, what’s the plan? Am I getting a prescription for superhero meds?” Fourth tried to joke, though his voice wavered.  

“Medications might be necessary if a psychiatric disorder is diagnosed,” Dr. Tay said carefully. “But first, we need a thorough assessment, mental health evaluation, neurological exam, possibly MRI or CT scans, and some lab tests to check for metabolic issues.”  

Fourth groaned, hiding his face in his hands. “Great. So, either I’m losing it, or my body’s trying to turn me into a science experiment.”  

Dr. Tay leaned forward, voice serious. “The key thing is safety. Stay in a secure environment, avoid isolation, and follow up promptly. Persistent hallucinations, especially after abstaining from alcohol, are not something to ignore.”  

Fourth exhaled, a mix of frustration and resignation. “Well… I guess I’m officially screwed. But fine. I’ll play along and get checked. Just… please don’t make me do brain surgery or something.”  

Dr. Tay met his gaze steadily. “If the hallucinations are distressing, persistent, or dangerous, yes. Antipsychotic medication can reduce the intensity and frequency of the symptoms.”  

Fourth let out a dry laugh. “Great. So, either I’m losing my mind or getting a chemical patch to fix it. Fun times.”  

Dr. Tay didn’t flinch. “It’s not about punishment. It’s about safety. And if we suspect an underlying medical cause—something neurological, metabolic, or otherwise—we’d stabilize the symptoms while running tests. That way, we can treat the root issue instead of just the effects.”  

Fourth leaned back, rubbing his temples.   

Dr. Tay smiled. “You won’t be alone in this. We’ll monitor everything carefully and adjust as needed.”  

Fourth muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else, “Yeah… lucky me.”  

.  

.  

Fourth stepped out of the clinic, the late afternoon sunlight hitting his face, and paused at the curb. He tugged at his sleeves nervously, stomach twisting.  

Of course, he thought, this isn’t something you just sweep under the rug. He was going to have to tell the boys— Gemini too , even his Mom eventually. His friends who joked, laughed, and danced with him without a care.  

He groaned softly. “Yeah… this is going to be a fun conversation,” he muttered, running a hand through his hair. His mind raced with how they’d react—concerned, freaked out, or just relentlessly teasing him. Probably all three.  

Fourth hesitated at the edge of the sidewalk, staring down at the cracked pavement. The idea of telling the them made his stomach clench. He didn’t even fully understand what was happening himself. How could he explain something that felt half unreal, half terrifying, and completely out of his control?  

He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “Not yet… definitely not yet.”  

With a deep breath, he pushed away from the thought, telling himself he’d wait until he had more answers, until he could make sense of the letters, the music, the whole impossible mess. For now, he could keep it to himself, walk back to campus, and pretend he was just another stressed, slightly hungover law student. The rest could wait.  

.  

.  

Fourth’s steps slowed as he entered the faculty cafeteria, and then stopped short. Gemini was there, leaning casually against the counter, arms crossed—but the way his brows were slightly furrowed, the subtle tension in his shoulders, told Fourth everything he needed to know.  

For a moment, all the panic, the letters, the ghostly music, the appointment with Dr. Tay—they all evaporated. Fourth felt lighter, as if the air around him had cleared. Gemini’s presence pulled him in, grounding him more effectively than any rational thought or checklist ever could.  

He forced a small smile, tucking the swirl of anxiety in his chest out of sight. Gemini caught his eye and grinned faintly, a little sheepish, a little teasing—but he didn’t press, didn’t ask.   

Gemini leaned closer, his voice low and warm, almost brushing against Fourth’s ear. “Have you eaten yet?” There was a softness to his tone, a gentle concern that made Fourth’s chest tighten.  

Before he could answer, Gemini had already taken the lead, guiding him toward the cafeteria counter. He picked out a plate of something Fourth wasn’t even sure he liked, but the care in the way Gemini handled it—how he made sure the tray was balanced, how he nudged it gently in front of Fourth—made the meal feel like more than just food.  

“You need to eat,” Gemini murmured, eyes locking with his, the tiniest smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t make me scold you.”  

Fourth’s lips twitched into a reluctant grin, his troubles momentarily fading. Gemini’s hands lingered just a little too long on the edge of the tray, brushing Fourth’s as he passed it over, and the simple, sweet gesture made Fourth feel like the world had narrowed down to just this—just the warmth, the care, and the gentle insistence of Gemini beside him.  

They slid into a quiet corner table, trays clattering lightly as Gemini set down Fourth’s food. Fourth poked at it distractedly, his fork hovering over the plate while his eyes followed Gemini’s every movement—the way he adjusted his sleeve, the tilt of his head as he smiled, the soft hum he made while looking at the menu.  

“You didn’t eat yet right?” Gemini asked, voice gentle, brushing a loose strand of hair behind Fourth’s ear.  

“Uh… not really,” Fourth mumbled, trying to look casual, though his chest thumped at the nearness.  

Gemini leaned forward, picking up a stray crumb on the edge of Fourth’s lip with a fingertip. His fingers lingered just a beat too long, and Fourth shivered. “There,” Gemini said softly, voice low and teasing, “can’t have you walking around with breadcrumbs, can I?”  

Fourth’s hand twitched, itching to brush Gemini’s cheek, but he froze. Instead, Gemini leaned in and pressed a quick, warm kiss to his cheek. “Better?” Gemini whispered, a small grin tugging at his lips.  

They laughed quietly at some dumb joke about the cafeteria’s overcooked pasta, their shoulders brushing, elbows colliding every so often. Gemini’s hand found Fourth’s on the table, fingers intertwining with ease. He held Fourth’s hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.  

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Gemini murmured, leaning closer, his forehead nearly touching Fourth’s. “Everything okay?”  

Fourth blinked, caught off guard by the concern, but he nodded, voice low. “Yeah… just… tired, I guess.”  

Gemini tilted his head, resting it lightly against Fourth’s shoulder. “You know, I like it when you talk to me,” he said softly, fingers squeezing Fourth’s hand. “Even if it’s just a little.”  

Fourth felt that warmth curl through him—the kind that made the panic, the hallucinations, and all the chaos of the morning fade into nothing. He reached across instinctively, brushing a thumb over Gemini’s knuckles.  

Slowly, Fourth felt the tension in his shoulders melt, the tight knot in his chest loosening with each shared smile and touch.   

He laughed more freely at Gemini’s teasing, leaning into the warmth of his hand, letting their fingers remain intertwined. His eyes sparkled again, the dull fog of worry lifting as he mirrored Gemini’s energy, matching his soft nudges and playful grins.  

“Hey, you’re smiling,” Gemini said, nudging him gently with his elbow.  

“Am I?” Fourth replied, grinning back, feeling lighter than he had all day. “Must be your fault.”  

Gemini’s grin widened, and Fourth felt a spark of mischief ignite. The cafeteria, the noise, the world beyond their little table—all of it seemed distant.   

The quiet bubble didn’t last long. Laughter and shouting heralded the arrival of the rest of the gang—Mark, Pond, Satang, and Phuwin—who slid into the table with their usual chaos. Trays clattered, drinks spilled just slightly, and voices overlapped in a mix of teasing and inside jokes.  

“Hey, look who finally decided to be normal humans!” Mark exclaimed, shoving a fry into Pond’s hand.  

Mark’s face twisted into mock outrage as he waved a hand toward Fourth and Gemini. “Seriously, you two! Leaving the club without a single message? We were wondering if you’d been abducted by aliens or something!”  

Pond snorted. “Or maybe just kidnapped by your own cuteness.”  

Fourth raised his hands defensively, trying not to laugh. “We didn’t mean to! We just… needed some fresh air, okay?”  

Gemini added, still grinning, “And you guys were having fun too.”  

Satang slid into the booth next to Mark, raising an eyebrow. “So what were you two up to, huh? Sneaking off like lovebirds while the rest of us were stuck in the club?” His tone was teasing, but there was a smirk playing on his lips.  

Phuwin plopped down opposite them, still looking a little sheepish. “I was expecting a lift from Gem back home,” he said, shrugging. “And then suddenly Fourth and Gem vanished. I was half-expecting someone to call the police.”  

Fourth groaned, burying his face in his hands.   

Gemini leaned over, whispering with a grin, “We were fine, see? Nothing catastrophic happened.”  

Pond snorted, reaching across the table to nudge Gemini. “Yeah, sure. Totally fine. Meanwhile, Mark here almost drafted a search party.”  

Mark pointed a finger at Fourth and Gemini, mock-serious. “You two owe me at least one dramatic story for this disappearance. Preferably involving suspense, intrigue, and maybe a little danger.”  

Satang laughed, shaking his head. “I’m just glad nothing actually happened. You guys looked way too cozy at the club anyway.”  

Gemini’s eyes twinkled as he glanced at Fourth, and Fourth felt a familiar warmth curl through him.   

Mark leaned back, spinning his chair slightly, eyes glinting with excitement. “Alright, forget about it, hear me out—next month Thursday, there’s a rap battle downtown. We have to go… it’ll be epic.”  

Satang didn’t even hesitate. “I’m in. Definitely in.”  

Pond blinked at him, incredulous. “Since when do you agree to anything without making a ten-step pros-and-cons argument?”  

Phuwin smirked knowingly, elbowing Satang. “Ohhh… let me guess. It’s because of Win, isn’t it? The new guy you’ve been… flirting with?”  

Satang’s ears turned slightly red, but he tried to play it cool. “I’m… just supporting a friend. That’s all.”  

Mark laughed, slapping the table. “Supporting a friend! Sure, buddy. Front-row seats for your crush—how very convenient!”  

Pond leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “Ohhh, this explains everything! That’s why you didn’t hem and haw like usual.”  

Satang groaned, leaning back, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with a small, sheepish smile.  

Fourth leaned forward, a mischievous grin tugging at his lips. “Oh wow, Satang, I didn’t know you were such a romantic fan of rap battles,” he said, raising his eyebrows.  

Satang groaned again, but Fourth pressed on. “Supporting a friend, huh? Yeah, sure… we totally believe that. Front-row seats for Win, not to cheer for rap skills, right?”  

Gemini snorted, elbowing Fourth lightly. “Don’t egg him on too much, he’s already red enough.”  

Fourth just laughed, shaking his head. “Red enough? Come on, Satang, we’re practically seeing smoke coming out of your ears. It’s too easy.”  

Pond and Mark doubled over, laughing, while Phuwin just smirked knowingly. Satang tried to hide behind his hands, muttering something about “you guys are stupid,” but the sheepish smile never left his face.  

Chapter Text

Fourth’s days started to blur. Morning lectures bled into the bright, sterile corridors of clinics, the smell of antiseptic clinging to his clothes like something permanent.

The first stop had been bloodwork. A nurse in lilac scrubs tied a tourniquet around his arm, the rubber snapping lightly against his skin.

“Fist, please,” she said.

He clenched, watching the vein rise under his skin. The needle slid in—just a pinch, but enough to make him grimace.

Endless vials of blood—nurses cheerfully drawing tube after tube for a Complete Blood Count, electrolytes panel, liver and kidney function tests, thyroid levels, vitamins, blood sugar… and screenings for infections he didn’t even know could cause hallucinations. Fourth joked once that they were probably building a whole new person out of his blood somewhere.

Tube after tube filled, each labeled and whisked away. CBC. Electrolytes. Liver function. Kidney function. Vitamin B12. Folate. Blood sugar. Tests he barely understood, each one another puzzle piece in some picture he couldn’t see yet.

“You’re a good bleeder,” the nurse joked, and he forced a laugh.

By the second week, the MRI was scheduled. He lay on the narrow table, a plastic coil fitted around his head like a cage.

“This part’s important—don’t move,” the technician said, slipping foam pads around his ears.

Then the noise began. A deafening clatter, a rhythmic thump, as if the machine was building a house inside his skull. He stared at the small mirror angled above him, watching a sliver of the control room beyond. His chest tightened, but he didn’t close his eyes—afraid that if he did, the letters from Gemini’s mirror might reappear.

The EEG was worse. Cold gel pressed into his scalp, electrodes taped to his skin until he felt like a science eexperiment.

Sticky gel in his hair and wires sprouting from his head like some kind of alien experiment. He grumbled to the technician about being turned into a cyborg, earning only a polite, tired smile in response.

 “You might feel drowsy. That’s fine,” the technician said, dimming the lights.

Drowsy wasn’t the problem. The problem was the hum of the equipment and the way his mind tried to make patterns out of it—like faint music under the surface, just enough to make him tense.

The toxicology screen was quick. Just a few vials of urine handed over in a plastic cup, the nurse smiling without looking up from her clipboard. But the psychiatric assessment… felt like it went on forever (no it didn’t).

Dr. Tay’s colleague, a quiet man with wire-rim glasses, sat across from him in a small office.

“When did you first notice the hallucinations?”

Fourth hesitated. “About… a month ago. I thought it was just the drinking at first. But—” He stopped, tapping his knee under the desk. “It’s not stopping.”

The questions kept coming. About his sleep. His moods. Any family history of mental illness.

Fourth hated that part the most—not because the questions were invasive, but because answering them meant admitting the hallucinations weren’t just a bad night after too much alcohol.

Whether he’d ever felt disconnected from reality. He answered mechanically, watching the doctor’s pen scratch notes in neat, quick strokes.

By the third week, Fourth was exhausted. His phone buzzed constantly with appointment reminders. He kept the calendar on silent, hiding the alerts from Gemini and the others. On campus, he laughed at Mark’s dumb jokes, leaned into Gemini’s touch, teased Satang about Win—but every time he slipped away to another appointment, it felt like living a double life.

Though most days Fourth kept his smile easy and his jokes flowing, he knew Gemini wasn’t fooled. There was a subtle shift—small, almost invisible to anyone else—but Fourth felt it in every touch.

When they hugged, Gemini held on just a heartbeat longer, like he was reluctant to let the world back in. Sometimes, when they were sprawled out on the couch with their notes, Gemini’s hand would drift up to Fourth’s hair, fingers combing through in slow, absent-minded motions that felt far more deliberate than casual. Movie nights became quieter, Gemini would lean into him, shoulder pressed to shoulder, thigh warm against his, as if proximity alone could keep him safe, like he was afraid Fourth might disappear if he didn’t hold on.

Fingers lingered just a heartbeat too long, hands brushed deliberately along his arm, and lips found him in fleeting, eager kisses that left Fourth’s chest tight with warmth.

Sometimes it wasn’t sweet or teasing—it was desperate. Gemini would press closer, hold on just a little too firmly, as if letting go for even a second might make Fourth vanish. Each kiss carried that urgent need, and Fourth found himself leaning in, letting it happen, letting Gemini anchor him.

Even the smallest moments—sitting side by side in the library, walking through campus, sharing a meal—turned into a quiet insistence from Gemini , stay here, stay with me. Fourth felt it, felt the undercurrent of fear behind the sweetness, and it made him impossibly fond, impossibly protective, impossibly… helpless against how much he loved it.

Even in the cafeteria, Gemini’s knee would bump his under the table, staying there as if to anchor him.

It was… nice. Comforting.

Fourth ran a hand through his hair, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite the weight in his chest. He felt bad—genuinely—because he hadn’t told Gemini about the hallucinations, the letters, or the ghostly music that had been creeping into his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to spill everything until he understood it himself.

Who in their right mind wanted to look like a fool in front of their potential future boyfriend—husband, even? And make no mistake, Fourth had no doubts about that last part. Gemini was it. Sharp, infuriatingly adorable, and impossibly magnetic. He was going to bag that man, come hell or high water, and Fourth wasn’t about to ruin his chances with a half-explained story about invisible letters and phantom music.

And the hallucinations? They’d lost their teeth. Somewhere between the first week of panic and the endless string of tests, Fourth stopped flinching when the music started. At first, it had been unsettling—notes spilling into his ears from nowhere, soft and far-off, like the world was scoring itself just for him. But now… now he kind of liked it.

It made him feel like he was walking through his own movie. Sometimes he’d be strolling across campus, sunlight catching on the glass buildings, and the melody would drift in—a lazy, looping guitar riff or a warm swell of strings. He’d slip his hands into his pockets, tilt his head back, and let himself vibe with it.

One afternoon, as they sat side by side on a bench near the faculty garden, Gemini was rambling about a new song he’d found, and the background music in Fourth’s head lined up perfectly with the rhythm of Gemini’s voice. Fourth couldn’t help smiling.

“What?” Gemini asked, squinting at him.

“Nothing,” Fourth said, leaning his head on Gemini’s shoulder. “Just… I like it here.”

Gemini didn’t press. He just wrapped an arm around him, tugged him closer, and kept talking.

And for the first time in weeks, Fourth thought that maybe—hallucinations and all—he was doing just fine.

It happened on a Thursday afternoon during Professor Chan’s notoriously dry lecture on contract law. The room was silent except for the occasional scratch of pens and the professor’s slow, deliberate pacing at the front.

Fourth sat in the middle row, head propped on one hand, doing his best to focus… when the music started again.

Not the gentle strings this time, but a ridiculously upbeat funk bassline—playful, bouncy, and completely out of place in the monotony of legal theory.

He blinked, stifled a grin. Really? Now?

The bassline kicked into a slick drum fill, perfectly timed with Professor Chan’s awkward sip of water. Fourth’s shoulders shook as he tried not to laugh, the beat syncing with the tapping of the professor’s shoes against the stage.

Satang, sitting next to him, leaned over and whispered, “What’s so funny?”

Fourth smirked, eyes still on the front. “It’s nothing. Just… the soundtrack’s killing it right now.”

Satang gave him a confused side-eye but didn’t press, probably chalking it up to another one of Fourth’s odd quirks.

Then, as Professor Chan launched into a long-winded example about breach of contract involving a bakery, the music shifted seamlessly into something that sounded like it belonged in a cheesy cooking montage—light piano, playful tambourine.

Fourth bit the inside of his cheek, hard. He felt the laughter bubbling up, but instead he just tapped his pen in perfect rhythm with the beat, enjoying the absurdity.

By the time class ended, he wasn’t even annoyed anymore. He left the lecture hall humming, feeling like the star of the weirdest law school romcom ever.

.

.

Fourth shifted in the chair, rubbing the back of his neck as Dr. Tay reviewed the papers in front of him. The office smelled faintly of coffee and antiseptic, a sterile calm that made the tension in his shoulders prickly.

“All your tests came back normal,” Dr. Tay said finally, looking up with a reassuring expression. “Blood work, MRI, EEG, everything. Physically, neurologically, you’re fine. Mentally, you’re stable. No underlying illness.”

Fourth blinked. “Wait… what does that mean for… all the letters, the music? The hallucinations?”

Dr. Tay leaned back slightly, steepling his fingers. “There’s a phenomenon called Benign Hallucinations, or Charles Bonnet–type experiences. Rare, but it happens. Your brain can spontaneously generate vivid sensory input—visual or auditory—even without any illness. You see the letters, hear music, but otherwise you’re fully functional and not in danger.”

“So… I’m basically just a weirdo?” Fourth tried to joke, though his voice carried a trace of disbelief.

Dr. Tay allowed a small smile. “You could put it that way. The key thing is that you’re coping well. You don’t need medication if it isn’t distressing or impairing your daily life. We’ll monitor it, of course, but there’s no immediate danger.”

Fourth exhaled, a mix of relief and residual tension spilling out. The idea of being “fine” but still experiencing these strange phenomena was… unsettling, yet oddly comforting. He could live with it. He just had to learn how to live with it—and maybe enjoy the music that seemed to follow him everywhere.

Chapter Text

About a week later, Fourth found himself strolling through campus with a quiet ease he hadn’t felt in months. The letters, the music, the random flashes that once made him panic—they didn’t unsettle him anymore. In fact, he had grown oddly fond of them, like strange little companions that popped up just to remind him life could be unpredictable and weird.

He ran a hand through his hair, thinking about the music drifting through empty halls or the letters scribbling themselves on mirrors. At first, it had been terrifying. Now? He almost looked forward to it, a bizarre soundtrack to his life.

“Yeah,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head with a laugh, “I’m a real weirdo.” And for once, he didn’t mind being one.

He could almost hear Dr. Tay’s calm, measured voice, the way he had outlined everything like a patient explaining a complex experiment.

“Regular follow-ups,” Dr. Tay had said, leaning slightly forward, hands folded. “Weekly or biweekly at first. We’ll track your hallucination frequency, note any side effects, and keep an eye on your mental state.”

Fourth had nodded, trying to mask the swirl of thoughts inside his head. The psychiatrist’s office had smelled faintly of antiseptic and old books, the air warm and quiet. Dr. Tay had continued, explaining benign hallucinations, Charles Bonnet–type phenomena, how some people’s brains spontaneously generated sensory experiences with no underlying illness.

“You’re otherwise functional,” Dr. Tay had said, adjusting his glasses.

Dr. Tay’s small smile had been reassuring. “If you’re coping well, and it’s not distressing or dangerous, no medication is necessary. Just stay aware, and check in regularly.”

Ever since he’d started treating the hallucinations like…well, odd companions, Fourth found himself leaning into them instead of recoiling. He’d wake up, brush his teeth, or even just pass a mirror in the hall, and instead of a jolt of panic, there was anticipation, like greeting a slightly eccentric friend.

The letters on mirrors no longer startled him. They scrawled across the fogged glass in jagged, playful lines, and he studied them with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Sometimes, when the fog settled just right, he could almost decipher words among the jagged rows, his name, scrawled like a signature from some unseen hand, or phrases that made him blink and lean closer,

long
  pine
    crave
      desire

and once, in a faint, trembling script,

wish , please, forgive

He’d squint at the letters, watching them flicker and drift, almost as if the glass was breathing. Every so often, the mirror would glitch completely—the words tearing apart, spinning, disintegrating into mist, then snapping back into a single, tantalizing question, next chapter ? Fourth would tap the glass lightly, half-joking, half-serious, squinting as if he could prod forward on to whatever chapter they were mentioning  with a fingertip.

The background music that seemed to trail him everywhere—the low, melancholic, cinematic hums—added an almost theatrical rhythm to the scene. Each word on the mirror, each letter’s twitch or drift, felt scored, as though the world itself had written a soundtrack just for him. He shook his head, chuckling softly. “Yep. Main character syndrome. Full-on. And apparently, I’m the star of my own glitchy, music-scored indie film.”

Grinning, he traced a finger along the words, letting the letters pulse lightly under his touch. Weird? Absolutely. Bizarre? Definitely. But Fourth found himself relishing it—the way each morning now had a hint of suspense, a personal drama unfolding in glass and sound. Somehow, in all the strangeness, he felt alive.

Fourth practically bolted home, excitement and curiosity fueling his steps. The thought of seeing “Win”—the guy Satang couldn’t stop talking about—had his mind spinning. Who was this mysterious new addition to their circle? And more importantly, what was it about him that had Satang so distracted?

When Fourth got through the door, Gemini was already there, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet like he hadn’t been able to stay still since morning. His grin stretched wide, eyes sparkling, and before Fourth could even set his bag down, Gemini launched himself forward and pressed a quick, enthusiastic kiss to Fourth’s lips.

Fourth staggered back just a step, surprised but grinning. “How… how did you even get in?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

Gemini froze, his wide-eyed excitement faltering for just a second. Then, sheepishly, he rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh… I kinda guessed your passcode?” he admitted, voice a little too high-pitched.

Fourth blinked at him. “Guessed it? Really?”

Gemini nodded, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. “Yeah… I figured it might be your birthday. October 18, 2004. Lucky guess?”

Fourth laughed, shaking his head, the tension of the day melting a little. “I should be annoyed… but you looked way too happy to care. Fine, I forgive you,” he said, stepping closer and letting Gemini wrap him in a tight hug. The warmth and enthusiasm radiating from Gemini made all the waiting and rushing worth it.

Before Fourth could even finish adjusting his bag, Gemini’s hands were on his shoulders, tilting his head, and pressing another kiss to his lips—longer this time, slow and teasing.

Fourth let out a soft laugh, trying to pull back, but Gemini leaned closer, slipping a hand around the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. Each kiss was deliberate, warm, and impossibly distracting, and Fourth’s earlier questions and curiosity about the rap battle faded under the rush of Gemini’s energy.

“Gem…” Fourth murmured between kisses, trying to catch his breath, but Gemini only grinned against him, pressing one more quick, playful kiss to his jaw, then another to his temple. Fourth couldn’t help but laugh, utterly undone, and let Gemini’s affection sweep him up, forgetting everything else for a moment.

Fourth groaned, stepping back just enough to catch his balance. “Gem… I need to shower and get ready. We’re going to be late if I don’t—”

Gemini pouted, lips jutting out adorably, and wrapped his arms around Fourth’s waist from behind. “Aww… but we should wash up together! It’s way more fun that way,” he whined, voice soft and coaxing.

Fourth rolled his eyes, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously adorable,” Gemini corrected, leaning in to pepper the back of Fourth’s neck with soft kisses. Fourth shivered, groaning again, realizing there was very little resistance left in him. “Fine,” he muttered, half-laughing, “but we’re still not going to be late, okay?”

Gemini only grinned, tugging him closer. “Deal

His fingers were already sliding under the hem of Fourth’s shirt, palms hot against skin that prickled at the touch. Fourth barely had time to inhale before Gemini spun him gently, sealing their mouths together in a kiss that stole thought and air alike.

The shirt was gone before Fourth even realized Gemini had pulled it over his head—his hands too busy fisting into Gemini’s hair to stop him. Cool air kissed his bare chest for all of two seconds before Gemini’s mouth replaced it, trailing down the curve of his throat, over his collarbone.

“Gem—” Fourth tried again, but the word melted into a broken sigh when nimble fingers found the button of his jeans. Gemini’s grin was wicked against his skin, his kisses dizzying enough to make the room tilt. By the time Fourth’s brain caught up, Gemini had him pressed back against the bathroom door, half-undressed, lips swollen from kisses that didn’t seem to end.

The bathroom door clicked shut, Gemini crowding him back with a kiss that felt more like a claim than a question. Fourth barely caught his breath before Gemini’s fingers were at his waistband, tugging his jeans down in one smooth motion.

They half-stumbled toward the shower, feet tangling in the heap of discarded clothes. Gemini reached out blindly, twisting the tap, the pipes groaned, and a burst of cold water splashed against the tiles before warming into a steady rush.

Steam was already curling from the shower, the faint scent of cedar soap filling the air.

Fourth stumbled back into the tiled wall, laughter and breath tangling in his throat as Gemini pressed in close, mouths meeting again. Water hissed as Gemini reached past him to turn the temperature up, the sudden warmth misting their skin.

Clothes fell away in messy, impatient motions—Gemini’s shirt hitting the floor, Fourth’s last barrier tugged free with a smirk. The shower’s spray caught them both in a rush, hot water running over bare shoulders, dripping down chests.

Gemini’s hands roamed without hesitation, sliding over slick skin, fingertips chasing rivulets of water. “See?” he murmured against Fourth’s jaw, lips curving. “Much more fun this way.”

Fourth could only groan, head tipping back as Gemini’s mouth traced wet kisses down his throat, the steady rush of water drowning out everything but the pounding of his own heartbeat.

Water cascaded over them, drumming against Fourth’s shoulders and plastering Gemini’s hair to his forehead. Gemini pressed closer, the warmth of his body contrasting with the rivulets streaming down their skin.

Fourth’s hands found Gemini’s back, palms sliding easily over slick muscle. Gemini’s mouth traced a wet path from the corner of his lips to his jaw, down the slope of his throat, each kiss deepening the heat curling low in Fourth’s stomach.

A soft gasp escaped him when Gemini’s hands skimmed lower, fingers resting on his hips with a teasing grip. “You’re warm everywhere,” Gemini murmured against his skin, voice muffled but loaded with amusement.

Fourth managed a shaky laugh, but it caught in his throat when Gemini pulled him flush, water running between them like liquid fire. The tile was cool at his back, Gemini hot against his front, the contrast dizzying.

His hands traced lazy patterns down Fourth’s sides, fingertips following the arcs of water streaming over him. Every touch was unhurried, coaxing rather than demanding, until Fourth’s breath evened into something heavy and warm.

Gemini pulled back just far enough to look at him, droplets clinging to his lashes, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “You’re beautiful like this,” he said softly, as if speaking too loud might shatter the moment.

Fourth swallowed, heat blooming in his chest at the sincerity in Gemini’s voice. He reached up, brushing wet hair from Gemini’s eyes, his thumb lingering on his cheek. “You’re such a sap,” he murmured, though the fondness in his tone betrayed him.

Gemini’s smile turned sly, the kind that made Fourth’s stomach knot in anticipation. Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the soap, working it between his palms until it foamed.

“Hold still,” he said, though his tone was anything but innocent.

Fourth arched a brow.

Gemini’s hands slid over his shoulders, slick and warm, the lather spreading in slow, deliberate circles. His touch lingered over every contour, fingers gliding along the dip of his collarbones, down the firm plane of his chest.

“You’re… thorough,” Fourth managed, voice thinner than he’d like.

Gemini grinned, thumbs brushing dangerously close to the edge of his hipbones. “Just making sure you’re clean,” he murmured, though the heat in his gaze said otherwise. The soap suds slid between them, the smooth drag of Gemini’s hands impossible to ignore as they traced a languid path down his ribs and over his stomach.

By the time Gemini’s hands skimmed lower, Fourth’s breath had hitched, the steam curling between them thick enough to feel like another touch entirely

Fourth’s fingers twitched, his patience snapped by Gemini’s deliberate teasing. With a sudden movement, he caught Gemini’s wrists mid-slide, pressing them against the tile.

“Not so fast,” Fourth murmured, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “I think it’s my turn now.”

Fourth’s hands glided over Gemini’s chest, slippery with soap, teasing the planes of muscle while Gemini’s own fingers tried to reclaim control. 

Gemini arched into his touch, a low gasp slipping past his lips, and Fourth couldn’t help but trace a bold line down the curve of his hip, thumbs brushing dangerously close to sensitive edges. “You feel… too good,” Gemini murmured, voice thick and trembling, betraying how much he was enjoying being at Fourth’s mercy.

Fourth’s grin widened, leaning in close enough for their lips to barely touch. “Careful,” he whispered, letting his hands drift lower, “or I might forget I’m supposed to let you play first.”

Gemini’s hands tightened on Fourth’s arms, pulling him flush.

As the soap made their skin slick and slippery, his fingers drifted lower, brushing just over the curve of Fourth’s ass and over his entrance. 

“Gem…” Fourth tried to warn him, voice thick, but it came out as more of a shudder than a protest.

Gemini’s grin pressed against his jaw, lips trailing a heated line down his neck. “Mmm… you’re so tense,” he murmured, slipping his fingers slightly further, exploring with a slow, teasing press. “Relax for me.”

Fourth’s chest heaved, a mixture of heat, tension, and anticipation coiling tight in his stomach. Every slick slide of Gemini’s fingers sent shivers down his spine, the warmth of the water doing nothing to quell the growing fire between them.

Fourth’s breath hitched, chest rising and falling unevenly, as a flush spread across his cheeks. His back arched involuntarily.

After easing his middle finger in and out with careful, teasing strokes, Gemini slowly curled his index finger. Fourth’s body convulsed violently as Gemini’s fingers curled deep inside him.

Fourth’s moan was low and trembling, filled with a raw, aching pleasure that echoed through the loud shower. It was a sound that wrapped around Gemini like a spell, pulling at every nerve in his body.

In that moment, Gemini felt like he was losing himself—going insane in the best possible way.

“God… Fourth,” Gemini breathed, voice ragged and low, lips brushing the curve of his neck. “You make it impossible to think straight.”

Gemini pulls his fingers out and Fourth almost whines at the loss of preassure.

Fourth’s hands shot out instinctively, trying to pull Gemini back, desperate for more contact, more of that slick, teasing heat. “Don’t stop… Gem,” he murmured, voice trembling, betraying every inch of want and surrender.

Gemini chuckled softly, letting his fingers hover just above where they had been, the anticipation almost unbearable. “Oh… I wasn’t done with you yet,” he whispered, eyes glinting with mischief and heat.

His hand slid down Fourth’s thigh, fingers digging in as he hoisted it up around his hip with a sudden, fierce motion. The heat of skin against skin was electric, scorching and slick under the pounding water. Fourth gasped, hips pressing instinctively into the bold, urgent grip, every nerve igniting under the combination of pressure, friction, and the relentless warmth of the shower.

Gemini leaned close, lips brushing the sensitive line of his neck, teeth grazing lightly, each touch sending shivers that ran down Fourth’s spine. The water poured over them both, drenching skin and hair, turning every slick slide of Gemini’s hand into a pulse of raw, tactile intensity that left Fourth trembling.

Then, with a sharp, demanding thrust forward, Gemini pressed, his length slipping in hard, relentless.  Fourth’s back arched sharply, every nerve ending alive, every muscle taut with the sudden, relentless thrust. A ragged, broken whimper escaped his lips. “N-ngh—oh ah Fuck”

 The water hammered over them, hot and heavy, but it was nothing compared to the burn and friction of Gemini pressing him so fully, so insistently.

His hands gripped Gemini’s shoulders, knuckles white, pulling and holding on as waves of sensation rolled through him. The shock of the sudden movement left him breathless, hips jerking involuntarily to match the rhythm Gemini set, each motion scorching and slick against his skin.

Gemini’s low, rough groan against his ear fueled the fire even further, fingers digging into his hips as if claiming him, every movement deliberate, teasing, and demanding. Fourth’s voice broke again, ragged and uneven, lost somewhere between a plea and surrender, the pounding water echoing his ragged moans.

You feel too good,” Gemini murmured, voice low and rough, each word sending shivers along Fourth’s spine.

Fourth’s hands tangled in Gemini’s wet hair, tugging gently, half in protest, half in plea. His breath came in short, ragged bursts, chest rising and falling as the heat between them coiled tighter. Everything —the grip of Gemini’s hand, the slick press of their bodies, the relentless rush of water—pushed Fourth closer to losing control, caught between desire and surrender.

Fourth’s muscles tensed and released in rhythm with Gemini’s relentless movements, each thrust driving him closer to a dizzying edge. The water sluiced over them, washing down slick skin, but it only heightened the friction of their bodies pressed so tightly together.

Gemini’s hands gripped his hips with calculated pressure, guiding, teasing, and asserting at once. It sent shivers racing down Fourth’s spine. His breath came in ragged bursts, words reduced to broken gasps and soft, desperate whimpers.

“Gem… nnhh—” Fourth moaned, fingers digging into Gemini’s shoulders, tugging, pulling him closer as if proximity alone could amplify the fire coursing through him.

Gemini’s voice was low, rough, filled with hunger and dark amusement. “You’re driving me insane,” he murmured against Fourth’s ear, teeth grazing the shell, eliciting a sharp shiver that ran through him from scalp to toes.

Their movements became a tense, urgent rhythm—push, press, glide, pull—every slick contact magnified by the pounding water, the heat, and the scent of soap and skin. The shower echoed with their ragged breaths, low groans, and the slick, intoxicating friction of two bodies utterly consumed by the same fiery need.

Their hips pressed and rolled against each other with, slick insistence, each tilt dragging heated friction along exposed skin. Fourth’s body shivered violently, breath catching, as Gemini’s hips met his with bold, teasing pressure, every movement igniting nerve endings that were already raw with sensation.

Fourth’s hands gripped Gemini’s shoulders and tangled in his wet hair, tugging him closer, moans breaking free between ragged gasps. 

Gemini’s hands roamed greedily, sliding over slick sides, teasing along the curve of Fourth’s hips, fingers brushing sensitive lines with deliberate, tantalizing pressure. Every roll, every grind, every slick glide pressed them tighter together, amplifying the fire coiling low in their stomachs.

“Fuck, you’re so tight for me,” Gemini growled, his voice thick with hunger. “So fucking perfect, stretched out just how I like you. You weren’t made for anyone else—just me, feeling every inch of my cock inside you.”

Fourth whimpered, back arching, lips parting in desperate, heated gasps as Gemini leaned in close, lips brushing against the shell of his ear. “So good… you feel so good like this,” he murmured, voice low, teasing, and entirely unrepentant.

“You’re all mine,” Gemini murmured, voice low and thick with need, lips brushing against Fourth’s jaw. “Every inch of you… I can’t get enough.”

Fourth’s breath hitched, muscles tightening and relaxing under the relentless pressure, hips shifting instinctively to match the movements. His fingers dug into Gemini’s hair, tugging gently, desperate for more contact, more closeness, every nerve ending alive and tingling.

Gemini leaned in, forehead resting against Fourth’s, their eyes locked. 

Fourth’s body shuddered violently, every nerve alive as the tension coiled tight inside him, spiraling toward a peak he couldn’t hold back. A low, ragged gasp tore from his lips, head falling back against Gemini’s shoulder as heat and sensation exploded through him.

Gemini pressed closer, holding him steady, their bodies slick and pressed together under the pounding water. Fourth’s hands clutched at Gemini, muscles trembling, knees weak, breath coming in broken, shallow bursts.

When the wave finally passed, Fourth sagged against Gemini, still trembling, eyes half-lidded, heart racing from the sheer, consuming rush of sensation.

Gemini’s own chest heaved, lips brushing Fourth’s hair as he whispered, low and playful, “That’s mine… every bit of it.”

Fourth finally leaned back slightly, gasping for air as the water sluiced over them. “Gem… we’re going to be late for the rap battle event,” he reminded, voice still heavy from both exertion and lingering tension.

Gemini froze for a beat, his fingers pausing mid-motion, eyes widening as if struck by a sudden thought. “Oh…” he murmured, voice sheepish, a faint blush creeping up his neck. “I… totally forgot about that.”

Fourth raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at his lips despite himself.

Gemini grinned, though sheepishly, leaning closer and pressing a quick kiss to Fourth’s temple. “Can you blame me?” he teased, shrugging as if his possessiveness and distraction were completely justified. “You make it… kind of hard to think about anything else.”

Fourth rolled his eyes, shaking his head, but the warmth in his chest betrayed how much he enjoyed Gemini’s clingy, possessive affection.

Gemini finally eased his grip slightly, though his hands never left Fourth’s body, trailing over shoulders, sides, and back possessively. “Alright… now we get you clean,” he murmured, voice low, almost teasing.

Fourth shivered under the lingering intensity, letting Gemini guide him under the spray. The soap and water ran over them both, slick and warm, as Gemini’s hands glided along Fourth’s back and arms, washing him with slow, deliberate care. Every motion carried a possessive undertone, fingers lingering just a moment too long, tracing along sensitive curves, making Fourth’s breath hitch despite the mundane act of being washed.

Fourth straightened under the warm spray, water running down his back, and gave Gemini a pointed look. “Gem… don’t try anything like that again if we want to make it to the rap battle on time,” he said, voice firm but teasing, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

Gemini’s grin faltered into a mock-innocent smile, fingers lingering just a moment too long on Fourth’s shoulders. “Oh… I wasn’t planning on it,” he murmured, though the mischievous glint in his eyes betrayed him completely.

“Uh-huh,” Fourth replied, raising an eyebrow, letting his tone carry just enough playfulness to match Gemini’s. “Sure you weren’t.”

They leaned closer under the shower, rinsing off the soap together, each brush of fingers and slick slide of skin against skin carrying that same teasing energy. Fourth handed Gemini the soap, letting him lather up his shoulders, deliberately slow, fingers brushing in ways that made Fourth squirm and laugh softly.

Gemini leaned in, whispering against his ear, “You make it hard to focus on just washing…”

Fourth shook his head, laughing breathlessly, but he pressed closer anyway, letting the playful, flirty touches continue as they finished under the warm water, teasing and smirking at each other with every rinse.

Steam hung thick in the bathroom as Fourth stepped out of the shower, wrapping a towel around his waist. Gemini followed closely, towel draped loosely over his shoulder, fingers brushing against Fourth every time they moved.

“Careful,” Fourth murmured, smirking as Gemini leaned in, pressing close, letting their hips brush. “We actually need to get dressed.”

“Dressed… right,” Gemini replied, though his hands lingered on Fourth’s sides, sliding over damp skin whenever Fourth reached for his own towel. Every motion became an excuse to press closer, to brush fingers over arms, shoulders, and waist.

Fourth laughed breathlessly, tugging at Gemini’s hand to guide him toward his clothes, but Gemini only grinned and tugged him back, leaning in so their foreheads touched. “You’re making this way too hard,” Fourth said, half-scolding, half-laughing, trying to wrangle his damp hair while Gemini’s hands roamed teasingly along his chest and back.

As they dressed, arms brushing, hips pressing together, hands lingering just a moment too long. Gemini caught Fourth’s gaze in the mirror, smirked, and whispered, “You know, we could skip the clothes part if you wanted…”

Fourth rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of him, shaking his head as he tugged his shirt on. “Not happening,” he said, though his own hands found excuses to touch Gemini as they pulled on his clothes, each glance, brush, and bump charged with the same flirty, playful tension that had followed them out of the shower.

Fourth tugged his shirt over his head, damp hair sticking to his forehead, and felt Gemini’s hands brush his sides, deliberately slow, teasing him with every swipe. “Gem! Stop,” he laughed breathlessly, though he didn’t push him away.

“Stop… me?” Gemini murmured, leaning closer, forehead brushing Fourth’s, letting his fingers trace along the curve of his waist.

Fourth rolled his eyes, smirking, but his hands found Gemini’s chest, tugging him toward himself as he managed to pull on his pants. Every step of dressing became a playful tug-of-war, sleeves and buttons turning into excuses for lingering touches, soft presses, and heated glances.

Fully dressed, Fourth grabbed his bag, but Gemini stayed close, hand sliding along his lower back, keeping him practically anchored. “We should go.”

Gemini replied, smirk widening, voice low and teasing. He caught Fourth’s gaze in the mirror one last time, letting his fingers briefly graze Fourth’s hand before letting go.

They stepped out of the apartment, bodies brushing, shoulders occasionally colliding.

Chapter Text

By the time Fourth and Gemini arrived, the courtyard was buzzing with energy—crowds gathering in clusters, bass thumping from hidden speakers, graffiti-splashed walls adding to the raw vibe of the place. Gemini’s hand found Fourth’s instinctively, fingers curling around his, and Fourth let himself relax into the warmth.

They spotted the rest of the boys near the front, already jostling for a good view. Mark waved enthusiastically, Satang gave a casual nod, and Phuwin leaned back with a grin, clearly enjoying the chaos.

“Finally!” Mark called out, nudging Fourth. “Thought you two were going to get lost on the way!”

Gemini laughed, tugging Fourth closer. “Nope, we made it. Can’t miss this.”

Fourth smirked, slipping into the familiar banter. “Wouldn’t dream of it… though I’m still curious about this Win guy Satang keeps going on about.”

Satang rolled his eyes, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “Stop making it sound so dramatic,” he muttered, while the rest of the boys teased him relentlessly.

Fourth chuckled, letting Gemini squeeze his hand. The night was just beginning, and the energy of the rap battle pulled everyone in.

The first emcee took the stage, and the crowd erupted, snapping fingers and clapping to the beat. Fourth leaned against Gemini, letting the music wash over him. The bass thumped in sync with his heartbeat.

Gemini’s head rested lightly on Fourth’s shoulder, warm and steady, and Fourth found himself smiling without even thinking. Every so often, Gemini would press a soft kiss to his temple or cheek, teasing and affectionate, pulling Fourth’s attention back from the stage for just a moment before the next verse.

Satang’s eyes were glued to the stage, but Fourth caught the quick glances toward Win, noting the subtle excitement flickering in his friend’s expression. Phuwin elbowed him, whispering something about Satang’s obvious crush, which made Fourth snort quietly, earning a playful nudge from Gemini.

Fourth let himself get lost in the rhythm, the crowd’s energy, and the easy intimacy with Gemini. Hands intertwined, shoulders brushing, laughter spilling between them—it was chaotic, loud, and messy, but Fourth didn’t want it any other way. For tonight, the world was music, lights, and the warmth of Gemini pressed against him.

When the next round began, Gemini leaned in, murmuring, “Ready to see this Win guy in action?”

Fourth grinned, squeezing Gemini’s hand. “Absolutely. Let’s see what all the fuss is about.”

The lights dimmed a little as the next emcee took the stage, a sharp energy radiating through the crowd. Fourth’s eyes scanned for Win, curious to see what kind of person had caught Satang’s attention. And then he spotted him—lean, confident, hoodie drawn low, mic in hand. There was a spark in his eyes as he sized up the competition, every movement precise and controlled, yet effortlessly fluid.

Satang nudged Fourth, whispering, “That’s him. That’s the guy I’ve been talking about.” His voice had a mix of awe and something softer, warmer. Fourth raised an eyebrow but kept quiet, letting Satang enjoy the moment.

Phuwin whispered exaggeratedly, “Oh wow… no wonder Satang’s been grinning like an idiot all week.” Fourth chuckled quietly, hiding it against Gemini’s shoulder as Gemini’s fingers tightened slightly around his hand.

The beat dropped, and Win launched into his verse and the crowd  was instantly hooked. Fourth felt the energy in the room surge through him, a mixture of thrill and anticipation. Gemini’s head tilted slightly, lips brushing Fourth’s ear as he whispered, “He’s good, huh?”

Fourth nodded, feeling a rush of something unexpected—a mix of admiration, curiosity, and the faint, warm stir of protective instinct over Satang’s obvious crush.

As the final beat faded, the crowd erupted into cheers, clapping and whooping for the last performer. Fourth and the others weaved their way through the throng, making their way backstage where the emcees were gathering.

Win turned at the sound of their approach, hood pushed back, revealing sharp features and an easy, confident grin. Satang’s face practically lit up, a blush creeping along his cheeks despite his best attempts to stay composed.

“Hey,” Pond greeted, stepping forward with a small smirk. “So, you’re the famous Win?”

Win laughed, shaking his head. “Guilty as charged. You must be Satang’s friends?”

“Partially,” Mark said, elbowing Satang teasingly. “Mostly here to make sure you don’t corrupt him too badly.”

Phuwin leaned forward, mock-serious. “Yeah, I hear you’re quite the charmer. No wonder Satang’s been all googly-eyed all month.”

Satang shot Phuwin a glare, but Fourth caught the faint twitch of a smile. Win chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. “Well, I can’t help it if he’s easy to impress.”

“Easy to impress?” Fourth echoed, tilting his head with a teasing grin. “Or just down bad for you.”

Gemini nudged Fourth under the arm, whispering softly, “You’re terrible at teasing.” Fourth shot him a playful glare, which only made Gemini grin wider.

Win laughed again, shaking his head. “You guys are merciless.”

Mark crossed his arms dramatically. “Merciless? Nah, we love Satang. Welcome to the gang, Win.”

The group shared a laugh, Satang’s blush deepening as Fourth smirked at him knowingly. The teasing continued, lighthearted and playful, until even Satang couldn’t help but laugh along, his hand brushing Win’s in a subtle, shy gesture.

As the night wore on, the group found themselves sprawled across couches and low tables in a dimly lit corner of the club. Empty glasses and bottles littered the surfaces, laughter bouncing off the walls, music vibrating through the floor. Pond and Phuwin were in the middle of a boisterous argument about whose team would win the next rap battle, while Mark alternated between dramatic toasts and exaggerated groans. Satang kept glancing at Win, his shy smiles betraying every attempt at casual composure.

Gemini leaned against Fourth, half-drunk but still energetic, nudging him playfully. “C’mon, Fourth, one sip!”

Fourth waved him off with a grin, holding his water bottle like a lifeline. “Nah, I’m fine. I’m having way too much fun sober.”

Gemini pouted but let it go, pressing a quick kiss to Fourth’s temple. Fourth’s chest warmed at the gesture, his eyes following Gemini as he laughed with the others.

The laughter around him grew louder, more infectious, as the gang settled fully into the night. Pond and Phuwin were playfully wrestling over a chair, Mark was mid-dramatic reenactment of a rap verse he’d only half-remembered, and Satang kept shooting sly glances at Win, who only rolled his eyes with a sheepish grin. Gemini clung to Fourth’s side, whispering little jokes and nudging him every now and then, making Fourth’s lips twitch with quiet amusement.

“Look at you two,” Mark called out, waving a half-empty bottle in the air. “Practically inseparable!”

Fourth shrugged, smirking. “We’re… enthusiastic.” Gemini laughed, tugging him closer, and Fourth felt the warmth of the small bubble they had created together amid the chaos.

The music thumped, bodies swaying, and the gang fell into a rhythm of playful dares, laughter, and clinking glasses. Even though Fourth wasn’t drinking, he felt the exhilaration as if the energy had seeped into him. Pond challenged Mark to a freestyle battle, Satang cheered Win on with mock-serious intensity, and Gemini leaned over Fourth’s shoulder to whisper commentary in his ear.

Every so often, Fourth caught snippets of the background music threading through the club—the same melodies that had once unsettled him—but now, they felt like a soundtrack to the night, highlighting every teasing glance, every laugh, every playful shove. He couldn’t help but grin.

Hours passed in a whirl of fun, and the gang’s energy never waned, even as bottles emptied and chairs got shuffled. Fourth stayed alert, watching, laughing, and occasionally brushing his fingers against Gemini’s hand under the table, the small contact grounding him even more amid the raucous joy.

Fourth’s stomach gave a dramatic gurgle, and he realized that all the apple juice he’d downed was staging a revolt. “Bathroom, I really need to pee,” he muttered, nudging Gemini gently.

“I’m coming with you!” Gemini protested, wobbling slightly on his heels, his words slurred from laughter and maybe one too many sips.

“Nope,” Fourth said firmly, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “You stay here. You’re not exactly… uh… in any shape to follow me.”

Gemini pouted, eyebrows furrowed, lips trembling slightly in mock indignation, but he stumbled back into the circle of friends, waving a dramatic hand at Fourth. “Fine! Go, but hurry back!”

Fourth sighed, shaking his head, and ducked through the throng of people toward the washroom.

.

.

Fourth’s feet shuffled back toward the crowd, mind half on the music and half on the laughter echoing around him, when—

His shoe caught on something soft and flat. He stumbled, arms flailing, and nearly face-planted into the sticky floor. Looking down, his heart skipped. A pile of papers had somehow appeared right in his path, and he’d tripped over them.

He scrambled upright, brushing his hands off on his jeans, eyes widening as he studied the sheets scattered across the floor. Clean white pages, covered in scrawling letters that twisted and shifted in ways that made his stomach twist too.

“No… no way,” he whispered, crouching to pick them up. His fingers trembled slightly as he traced the words long… pine… desire… next chapter?

Fourth froze in place, clutching the papers to his chest. The scattered letters and words stared up at him like tiny sparks of some private language only he could understand. “This… this is insane,” he muttered, shoving a few sheets into his jacket pocket while the rest fluttered slightly under the bass-heavy beat of the music.

He scanned the first sheet more closely. The handwriting—charted certain details of the day from start to finish. Winny bouncing with excitement the moment Satang arrived, the teasing whispers, the tugging and playful spins while getting ready—all recorded in obsessive, vivid detail. Fourth’s chest tightened as he traced a line describing Gemini pressing against him in the bathroom, their hands tangled, laughter and sighs carefully noted like some surreal diary.

Fourth’s eyes widened as he flipped another page, notes about the rap battle, even some playful comment from the gang, and even Satang’s stolen looks at Win. He felt horror and fascination seep in, it was his day, but written as though someone else had been watching every intimate and chaotic second.

Fourth crouched over the papers, heart hammering, fingers trembling slightly as he brushed them flat on the floor. His first, instinctive thought was simple, primal, and terrifying, Someone’s been watching me. I have a stalker.

He froze, scanning the crowded club around him. People were laughing, sloshing drinks, bumping into each other in carefree chaos. No one seemed to be paying the slightest attention to him. No shadow lurking, no eyes tracking his every move.

He shook his head, muttering under his breath. “No… that can’t be right. Who would even…? And why would they write down these things even as stupid joke? This makes zero sense.”

His pulse was racing, adrenaline and the residual sugar rush from too much apple juice combining into a jittery haze. He tugged the top sheet closer, squinting at the neat, almost obsessive handwriting.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered to himself, trying to reason it out. “Stalker doesn’t make sense. I mean, I’m not famous. No one has a reason to track my every move… ” He groaned, burying his face in his hands for a moment, feeling the absurdity of the thought clash with the creeping unease.

He looked around again, at the group sprawled across the couches, at Gemini leaning into Phuwin’s arm, laughing and glowing in the warm club lights. No stalker would just… leave these pages here and vanish? Fourth’s rational mind was screaming at him, but a small, stubborn part of his imagination clung to the idea anyway.

A nervous laugh escaped him. “Okay… yeah, main character syndrome, fully confirmed. And now I’ve got a… a ghost scribe?” His fingers lingered over the words long… pine… desire… next chapter? as if touching them might conjure more. The papers pulsed faintly under the strobe lights, their edges curling like they were alive, teasing him.

He glanced back toward the gang.  Fourth shook his head, grinning despite the cold prickle of unease. “Well… apparently my life is officially documented?”

Tucking the sheets carefully into his jacket pocket, he straightened up, letting the rhythm of the music and the warmth of Gemini’s presence pull him back into the present. The papers were strange, maybe even a little terrifying—but for now, they were just part of the story. His story.

He took a deep breath and wove back through the throng, slipping a hand into Gemini’s without thinking. Gemini’s eyes met his, playful and trusting, and Fourth felt the tension in his chest ease slightly. He didn’t know who had written the papers, or why, but at that moment, the chaos and the closeness, the music and the lights, and Gemini’s steady grip were enough.

Fourth tried to let himself sink back—Gemini’s arm slung lazily over his shoulders, the bass rattling the floor, Pond’s ridiculous victory dance after winning a dare—but his thoughts kept drifting to the weight against his ribs.

The papers felt heavier than they should, folded neatly in his jacket pocket, the edges brushing his side every time he moved. Each laugh from his friends was half-heard, every cheer from the crowd muffled under the quiet scratch of imagined pen strokes in his head.

He could still see the looping handwriting when he blinked. The way it had captured every glance, every touch, every moment that was supposed to be private. Even now, with Gemini pressing close and whispering something that made Phuwin snort across the table, part of Fourth was somewhere else—kneeling on that sticky floor, heart pounding as he read his own life written back to him.

“Hey.” Gemini nudged him with his knee, breaking the spiral. “You’re zoning out on me.”

Fourth forced a smile, tilting his head toward him. “Just… tired, maybe.”

But Gemini’s eyes lingered a little too long, like he was weighing whether to believe him. Then Mark shouted for another round, and the moment was gone.

Fourth laughed along, clinked glasses with the others, even let himself be dragged into a group selfie, but underneath it all, the thought gnawed at him. Who had written them? Why leave them where he would find them? And—most unsettling—how much more was out there?

Gemini, on the other hand, had clearly decided that personal space was a myth. He was draped over Fourth like a human blanket, head resting on his shoulder, arms looped loosely around his waist. Every so often he’d nuzzle into Fourth’s neck with a soft, happy sigh, completely oblivious to the way the others were grinning at them.

“Look at him,” Mark said loudly over the music, pointing with his bottle. “The mighty Gemini, reduced to a clingy toddler.”

Phuwin snorted. “More like a koala. And Fourth’s the tree.”

Fourth rolled his eyes, trying—and failing—to pry Gemini off without making it obvious. “You’re all hilarious.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Pond chimed in, waggling his eyebrows.

Fourth opened his mouth to retort, but Gemini beat him to it, mumbling into his shoulder, “Of course he loves it… he’s mine.”

That earned a chorus of exaggerated “ooooh”s from the group, Satang shaking his head with a smirk while Win hid a laugh behind his hand.

Fourth could feel his ears warming, partly from the teasing, partly from the way Gemini’s grip tightened like he was afraid to let go. He forced a chuckle, shoving lightly at Gemini’s arm. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Your ridiculous,” Gemini mumbled back, mangling the grammar in his tipsy haze.

More laughter erupted around them, and Fourth tried to play along, smiling for the group’s amusement.

Gemini had reached that particular stage of tipsy where everything he did was a little exaggerated and a lot endearing. He clung to Fourth’s side, head tilted up with a lazy grin, hair falling into his eyes. Every so often he’d giggle at something no one else had heard, then bury his face against Fourth’s shoulder like it was the safest place in the world.

Fourth tried—really tried—to keep his focus on the conversation around the table, but Gemini was just… too much. Too adorable. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the soft warmth of his hand tucked into Fourth’s, the little hums he made whenever Fourth leaned into him—it was all hitting far too hard.

“You’re so warm,” he mumbled, fingers absently playing with the hem of Fourth’s jacket. “Like… perfect blanket warm.”

Fourth chuckled, tilting his head toward him. “You’re comparing me to a blanket now?”

“A very, very good blanket,” Gemini insisted, giving him a sleepy smile that somehow made Fourth’s chest ache.

Phuwin leaned over the table. “He’s gone, completely gone.”

“Head over heels,” Pond agreed, raising his glass in mock salute.

Fourth barely registered the teasing anymore. Gemini was just too distracting—his soft, drunken laugh, the way his head rested against Fourth’s shoulder, the way he kept brushing his thumb over Fourth’s knuckles without even seeming to notice.

It didn’t take long for Fourth to realize Gemini had officially crossed the line from tipsy to downright drunk. His clinginess was turning into lazy, boneless cuddles, his sentences slurring into each other until they were more giggles than words.

“Fourth,” Gemini mumbled, half into his shoulder, “you smell… so good. Like… home.”

Fourth’s chest tightened again—damn him—but he sighed, brushing a hand through Gemini’s hair. “Alright, that’s enough for you tonight.”

“Hm?” Gemini blinked up at him, confused but still smiling.

“You’re done,” Fourth said gently, pulling the glass from Gemini’s hand before he could take another sip. “I’m taking you home before you turn into an actual puddle.”

“A puddle,” Mark repeated with a snicker. “Yeah, that tracks.”

Phuwin grinned. “Need help carrying your baby koala?”

“I’ve got him,” Fourth said with a faint smile, already pulling Gemini to his feet. Gemini swayed, but when Fourth steadied him with a hand at his back, he leaned into the touch with a blissed-out sigh.

“See? Perfect blanket,” Gemini murmured again, like it was the most important truth in the world.

The night air hit Gemini like a soft slap, making him blink and mumble something about stars. He shuffled alongside Fourth toward the car, hanging off his arm like a human scarf.

“Keys,” Fourth said, holding out his hand.

Gemini fished them from his pocket with great ceremony, immediately dropping them twice before pressing them into Fourth’s palm. “My chariot,” he declared, grinning lopsidedly.

Fourth rolled his eyes but opened the passenger door. “In. Try not to fall asleep yet.”

“I’ll… think about it,” Gemini said, climbing in with all the grace of a sleepy cat. As Fourth rounded the car, he could already hear the faint hum of Gemini trying to sing along to the muffled music from the club still stuck in his head.

Driving wasn’t difficult—the roads were quiet—but Fourth kept stealing glances at Gemini. His head lolled against the seat, his fingers reaching across the console to find Fourth’s hand like it was a reflex. Fourth let him hold on, the warmth in his palm at odds with the restless weight in his jacket pocket.

Those papers. Every curve of ink, every detail they shouldn’t contain. He’d only skimmed them, but it was enough to spark a dozen questions that refused to quiet down. Once Gemini was in bed, he was going to read every word.

“Your place or mine?” Fourth asked, mostly out of habit.

“Yours,” Gemini mumbled without opening his eyes. “Smells better.”

Fourth huffed a laugh. “That’s not hard. You live like a tornado.”

“Mm… you love it,” Gemini teased, giving his hand a weak squeeze before letting it go.

By the time they pulled into Fourth’s building, Gemini was half-asleep. Getting him upstairs was a mix of guiding and herding, Gemini leaning heavily on him and occasionally stopping to tell Fourth something completely nonsensical—like how his hair “felt like Tuesday” or that his shoulder was “the perfect height for leaning.”

Once inside, Fourth sat him on the edge of the bed and helped him out of his jacket. Gemini’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his smile slow and soft. “You’re nice to me,” he said, as if it was the most surprising thing in the world.

“Go to sleep,” Fourth said, tugging the blanket over him.

“M’kay,” Gemini murmured, catching Fourth’s wrist just long enough to press a clumsy kiss to the back of his hand before curling into the pillow.

Fourth stood there for a beat, watching his chest rise and fall. Then he reached into his jacket pocket, the rustle of paper loud in the quiet room. The folded pages were still warm from being pressed against him all night.

He slipped out, closing the door softly behind him.

Fourth padded into the kitchen, the apartment dim except for the faint streetlight glow seeping through the blinds. The kettle clicked on with a hum, but his focus wasn’t on the tea.

Tonight, finally, he was going to read them—properly this time. Every word, every detail, every strange, impossible observation.

He reached into his jacket pocket.

Empty.

Fourth froze, fingers fumbling deeper into the lining. Nothing. Just the faint warmth from his own body heat.

“What the hell…” he muttered, dragging the jacket off entirely and patting down each pocket. Nothing in the left one. Nothing in the inner zip.

He swore under his breath and turned the jacket upside down, shaking it. No flutter of paper, no telltale rustle.

He’d felt them before. On the drive back, when Gemini’s hand had been in his, the folded stack had been pressing against his ribs, a solid, undeniable weight. He remembered adjusting his jacket in the club, the faint crinkle of them brushing his side. They’d been there.

So where the hell had they gone?

Fourth rifled through the couch cushions, checked the hallway, even peeked into the bedroom—Gemini was out cold, sprawled diagonally across the bed like a starfish. No papers.

The kettle clicked off, but he barely heard it. His mind was spinning through possibilities—had they fallen out in the car? Had someone… taken them? But how? He’d been wearing that jacket the entire night, never out of arm’s reach.

He sank into a chair, jacket limp in his hands, the phantom weight of the papers still vivid against his side like his body refused to accept they were gone.

It didn’t make sense. None of it did.

Maybe they’d slipped out in Gemini’s car.
 It was the only explanation that didn’t make his skin crawl.

Fourth grabbed his keys and stepped into the hall, the cool night air biting at his cheeks. The street was quiet—just the hum of a lone streetlamp and the distant sound of someone’s TV through an open window.

Gemini’s car sat where they’d parked it, dark and still. Fourth unlocked it and slid into the driver’s seat, the faint scent of Gemini’s cologne clinging to the leather.

He checked the passenger seat first, then the floor. Glove compartment—nothing but old receipts and a phone charger. He even patted along the narrow space between the seats and the console. No papers.

The trunk was empty, too.

He stood there a moment, leaning against the car, jacket pulled tight. The night felt too still.

By the time he trudged back upstairs, his chest felt heavy. The living room light was still on, his tea untouched. Gemini was exactly as he’d left him, tangled in blankets, breathing softly.

Fourth sank onto the couch, rubbing his face with both hands. Defeated.

Fourth sank further into the couch, staring at the empty space where the papers should have been. His mind refused to settle, spinning faster and faster as he tried to make sense of it all.

Mirror letters—those impossible words that had appeared when he’d been drunk or alone. The strange, haunting background music that seemed to follow him in cafes, parks, even the quiet corners of campus. And now… the papers. Tonight’s papers. Detailing every move, every glance, every laugh, every intimate moment as if someone had been watching him for hours—no, as if someone knew him better than he knew himself.

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “What the fuck…” he muttered under his breath.

It didn’t add up. None of it did. He’d thought hallucinations, coincidence, maybe even some prank… but the papers? That was different. That was impossible.

And now, gone. Vanished. No explanation. No sign of anyone around.

His thoughts spiraled. What if… what if he wasn’t just living his life? What if—what if he was in a book?

The idea hit him like ice water. Every detail, every intimate motion, every surreal, impossible moment he’d experienced suddenly fit into a terrifying, absurd framework. If someone—or something—was writing his story, what did that make him? Just a character?

Fourth’s chest tightened. His heartbeat thudded in his ears. He looked over at Gemini, asleep and blissfully unaware, soft curls falling across the pillow.

Fourth ran a hand through his hair, muttering under his breath. He’d definitely read his fair share of isekai manga. Characters waking up in other worlds, life rewritten, “destiny” this, “next chapter” that. He’d laughed at it, rolled his eyes at the ridiculous tropes.

And yet… here he was. Papers gone. Hallucinations. Music that followed him like a personal soundtrack. Every detail of tonight documented with impossible accuracy.

The conclusion was ridiculous. Ludicrous. Absurd. And yet, somehow, it was the most plausible explanation he could think of.

God, he must be insane. Absolutely, completely, off-the-rails insane.

He laughed nervously, a high, short sound that bounced off the walls. Maybe it was the adrenaline. Maybe it was the relief of finally naming the impossible thing that had been gnawing at him.

But the thought wouldn’t leave him alone. Maybe he was in a story. Maybe all this—was written by someone else, watched by someone else, crafted for someone else.

And somehow, in that ridiculous, insane possibility, it made a twisted sort of sense.

Fourth sank deeper into the couch, the fabric rough against his palms, the faint scent of lingering club music and spilled drinks clinging to the apartment air. His head spun, vision slightly blurred, the glow from the streetlight slicing through the blinds in thin, sharp stripes. “Wait… my life isn’t real? My choices… they’re not really mine?” His voice was barely a whisper, trembling, yet the absurdity made it rise into a strangled, almost hysterical laugh that bounced off the walls.

A flutter of panic skittered through his chest, tight and hot, as if someone had shoved a fist inside his ribs. Every joke he’d made tonight, every stolen glance at Gemini, every laugh, sigh, and touch—it had all been written, observed, cataloged. His so-called free will felt like smoke, slipping between his fingers no matter how tightly he clenched his hands. He pressed a palm to his forehead, feeling the subtle stick of sweat, and whispered, “I’m… I’m just… a puppet? A character? Someone else is… directing me?”

He leaned back, tilting his head until the ceiling stretched above him, cold and silent, waiting. “Okay… okay. Let’s treat this like a… a case study.” His voice shook slightly with dread “If I’m a character, maybe I can figure out the author’s style, their intentions… the story beats.” His mind raced, cataloging moments from the night—the press of Gemini’s hand, the bass vibrating under the floor, the glow of strobe lights catching on sweat and laughter—comparing them to the papers he hadn’t been able to reread.

A dark, nervous chuckle escaped him. “God… I bet I’m full of clichés. Too much flirting, too many dramatic pauses, hopelessly in love with my best friend… ugh, what a trope.” The sound scraped against his own ears, ridiculous and unnerving all at once.

He swallowed hard, tasting the bitter residue of apple juice and adrenaline. Thinking of Gemini asleep in the bedroom, warm and soft under the blankets, he felt a tug of longing and doubt. “But… what about feelings? Mine? Are they real, or just written? Does Gemini actually exist for me, or…?” The thought made his stomach lurch, vertigo curling through him like ice water in his veins.

He ran a hand through his hair and laughed again, breathless, high-pitched, desperate. “I must be insane. Absolutely, completely insane. And yet… somehow, it’s… brilliant. Terrifying, yes. Absurd, yes. But… brilliant.”

Fourth’s hands trembled as he pulled at his hair, the dim apartment lights flickering faintly against his sweat-dampened skin. A cold, creeping panic gnawed at his stomach, sharper than before. What if… what if none of it was real?

His chest tightened as thoughts clawed through his mind. Gemini—the warmth, the laughter, the soft nudges and kisses—was he even real? The thought made him shiver, goosebumps rising along his arms.

And then… his mother. Sitting quietly in their small hometown cafe, laughing at his childhood jokes, scolding him for staying out too late—had that been real, or just another scripted memory? His throat tightened, and a hollow ache spread through his chest. The life he had always clung to, the anchor of family, suddenly felt tenuous, like fog slipping through his fingers.

He thought of his friends, sprawled across the club couches, teasing, laughing, teasing, teasing… Phuwin, Satang, Pond, Mark. All their familiar quirks, all their subtle glances, their voices echoing in his memory—were they alive outside this story, or just part of some elaborate narrative, puppets of someone else’s imagination? His stomach churned, the world tilting with the weight of uncertainty.

Fourth’s palms pressed against his eyes, breathing shallow, uneven. The apartment felt too silent now, the faint hum of the streetlamp outside mocking him. Every laugh, every memory, every intimate moment that had once felt so solid now seemed fragile, maybe even fictional.

A dry, trembling laugh escaped him, tinged with fear. “What if… everyone I care about… isn’t real?” The words felt absurd on his tongue, but the terror behind them was real enough. The world had shifted, become unfamiliar, threatening to unravel at any moment.

 Every fiber of him ached to reach out, to touch someone, to feel proof that this life—his life—was more than a story. But the question lingered, impossible and heavy, what if he was utterly, impossibly alone, in a world that only existed for someone else’s narrative?

His hands shook as he reached for his phone. He didn’t even think, didn’t plan—his thumb just scrolled to Mom and pressed call.

It rang once. Twice. Then—

“Hello? Fourth? Sweetheart, it’s late. Are you alright?” Her voice, warm and familiar, washed through the speaker like a lifeline.

He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “I—I’m fine. I just…” He trailed off, not trusting his voice to explain the impossible storm in his head. “I just wanted to hear you.”

There was a pause, then the soft sound of her smile reached through the line. “Hear me? Oh, honey. You’re scaring me a little. Did something happen?”

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. He forced a laugh  “I just needed grounding. You know, something... Something… you.”

Her laugh was soft, but teasing. “So I’m your emotional support hotline now? You better be paying me overtime.”

“Overtime?” Fourth scoffed, finally smiling. “Please. You should be paying me. Do you have any idea how stressful it is being your son?”

“Oh, don’t start,” she shot back. “I should be paying Gemini instead—he’s always taking care of you.”

“Unbelievable!” Fourth exclaimed, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “Here I am, baring my soul in the middle of the night, and you’re still picking favorites!”

“You’re still my favorite headache,” she teased.

He rolled his eyes, but the heaviness in his chest had eased. “Yeah, yeah. You love me.”

“More than anything,” she said simply, her voice softening. “You’re my boy. My loud, stubborn, infuriatingly lovable boy.”

His chest loosened at her words. The ache didn’t vanish, but it dulled, softened by the sheer normalcy of her voice.

“Thanks, Mom,” he whispered, blinking back sudden tears.

She sighed on the other end, fond and amused. “You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Fourth. That’s my job. Now, go to bed. Sleep. And tomorrow, call me again, but at a decent hour, alright?”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “I will.”

“Good. I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too,” he said, and when he ended the call, the room felt a little less fragile, the silence a little less sharp.

He sat there for a while longer, phone still in his hand, letting her voice echo in his mind until the world steadied beneath him again.

After a while Fourth dragged himself through the apartment, every step heavy, his chest tight with fear and exhaustion. The world felt unreal, too sharp, too vivid, yet impossibly hollow. The only thing that mattered now was Gemini.

He pushed open the bedroom door and slipped onto the bed, careful not to wake him too abruptly. The soft rumble of Gemini’s breathing hit him first, steady and warm, and Fourth’s heart ached at the sound. He crawled closer, curling around him instinctively, letting his face rest against the soft curve of Gemini’s shoulder.

Gemini stirred, a sleepy groan escaping him, and nuzzled back instinctively. “Mmm… Fourth…” His voice was thick with sleep and alcohol, tender and unguarded. He pressed closer, wrapping an arm around Fourth with a sloppy, endearing hug.

Fourth’s chest warmed, a rush of relief flooding through him. The feel of Gemini’s weight, the soft warmth of his skin, the faint scent of his cologne—all of it tangible, immediate. His hands brushed against the messy curls, and a small, involuntary smile tugged at his lips. So drunk, so sleepy, so impossibly cute and sweet. So real.

A laugh bubbled up, soft and incredulous, shaking from both relief and lingering fear. “There’s no way… you’re not real,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of Gemini’s head. “No way. You’re real. You’re… here. You’re right here.”

Gemini murmured something incoherent, burrowing closer, and Fourth let himself relax completely for the first time that night. The apartment, the missing papers, the surreal music, the hallucinations—they could wait. Right now, the only certainty he needed was this, the warmth of Gemini pressed against him, the rise and fall of his chest, the way he breathed him in without a thought.

Chapter Text

Fourth’s eyelids were heavy, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. He hadn’t slept a wink last night.

He watched Gemini stir, slow and gentle, the faint twitch of eyelashes as the first light of morning filtered through the blinds. His breaths came soft and even, chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made Fourth’s heart ache with quiet relief. The way Gemini’s lips parted slightly in a sleepy yawn, the way his messy curls fell across his forehead—it all struck Fourth as achingly real, impossibly tangible.

A soft hum escaped Gemini as he rolled slightly, still half-asleep, and pressed closer to Fourth. “Morning…,” he murmured, voice thick and muffled, curling his hand around Fourth’s arm without fully opening his eyes.

Fourth swallowed, feeling the warmth of Gemini’s body against his own. Every doubt, every fear from the past twenty-four hours. Gemini was real. Right here. Breathing, shifting, warm, alive.

He traced a finger along Gemini’s arm idly, careful not to wake him fully, and felt a surge of tenderness and gratitude. For the first time since the everything had been dragging him down, Fourth allowed himself to just be—to watch, to breathe, to exist quietly in the certainty of Gemini’s reality.

Even though his mind was exhausted, even though sleep had evaded him, Fourth felt a strange peace settle over him.

Fourth’s gaze lingered on Gemini, heart still thrumming from the intensity of the night and the surreal whirlwind of thoughts. His fingers brushed lightly against Gemini’s curls, tracing patterns as he leaned in slowly, careful not to startle him.

Gemini’s eyes fluttered open, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he murmured, “Fourth…” The sound, soft and unsteady, sent a shiver down Fourth’s spine.

Unable to resist any longer, Fourth pressed his lips to Gemini’s, tentative at first—a gentle, questioning brush. Gemini responded instantly, lips soft and warm, his sleepy hands clutching at Fourth’s shirt. The kiss deepened, a tender exploration at first, then gaining urgency as both of them leaned closer, bodies pressing into one another.

Gemini’s hands threaded into Fourth’s hair, tugging lightly as he kissed back with a sleepy but insistent hunger. Fourth groaned softly, a sound that mingled with Gemini’s breathy murmurs, their movements slow and careful at first, then more insistent as desire and emotion mingled.

The kiss stretched on, a full-bodied embrace of sensation, lips, tongue, teeth gently grazing, hands exploring familiar and yet thrilling territory. Fourth’s chest pressed to Gemini’s, the warmth, the softness, the slight unsteadiness from Gemini’s lingering drunkenness making him feel dangerously alive, achingly real.

Eventually, they pulled back slightly, foreheads pressed together, panting, hearts hammering in sync. Gemini’s sleepy grin was wide, unguarded, completely disarming. Fourth traced his thumb along Gemini’s jawline, laughter and awe mingling with desire. “You’re so… perfect,” he whispered, voice catching, half in wonder, half in disbelief.

Gemini only snuggled closer, mumbling, “You too… don’t… go anywhere.”

Fourth pulled back just enough to meet Gemini’s eyes, still flushed, still panting from the intensity of the kiss. The apartment felt impossibly quiet around them, the faint hum of early morning light spilling across the bed, but the heat between them was undeniable.

“You… feels so rea…warm,” Fourth whispered, voice low and trembling slightly. He pressed a hand to Gemini’s cheek, thumb brushing over his soft skin. “I… want more.”

Gemini’s eyes widened in surprise, a sleepy laugh escaping him. “Wait… wait, you’re… in the mood… now?” His voice was thick with drowsiness, playful disbelief dancing across every syllable. He squirmed slightly under Fourth’s weight, clutching the sheets in a mix of amusement and anticipation.

“Yes,” Fourth murmured, leaning down to capture Gemini’s lips again, slower this time, savoring the softness, the warmth, the undeniable reality of the moment. Every touch, every sigh, every whispered murmur made his heartbeat spike, made him certain that Gemini was real, that this wasn’t some hallucination or scripted fantasy.

Gemini giggled into the kiss, muffled and breathy, hands clutching at Fourth’s shirt as he pressed back with playful energy. “You’re… bold… for morning…” His grin tugged at Fourth’s heart in ways that words could never capture, half-mischievous, half-sleepy, all irresistible.

Fourth only smiled against Gemini’s lips, pressing closer, letting the warmth and softness ground him further. The earlier panic about papers, mirrors, and reality faded into the background. Right now, there was only the living, breathing Gemini, incredulously awake yet still delightfully half-asleep, responding to his touch, making everything feel vivid and impossibly alive.

Fourth shifted, pressing closer until he was straddling Gemini’s lap, the heat of his body pressing against him. Gemini’s breath hitched, hands moving instinctively to grip Fourth’s shoulders, anchoring him. The closeness made every heartbeat thunder, every nerve spark.

Slowly, Fourth began sliding off his shirt, peeling it over his head, letting Gemini’s eyes follow him. The soft morning light caught the curve of his muscles, the tension and warmth between them making the air electric.

Gemini let out a soft, breathy laugh, hands running lightly over Fourth’s sides. “You’re…hasty,” he murmured, eyes bright, inviting.

Fourth leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to Gemini’s lips, letting his hands trail along Gemini’s chest, feeling the shiver that ran through him. The world outside—the panic, the mirrors, the doubts—fell away completely. Here, in this small apartment bathed in soft light, it was only them, only the closeness, only the undeniable pull between them.

Fourth’s hands trembled slightly as they moved over Gemini’s body, tracing the curve of his shoulders and the line of his chest. Slowly, deliberately, he reached for Gemini’s shirt, sliding it off over his head. Gemini’s skin glowed in the soft morning light, and Fourth’s gaze lingered, eyes full of awe and desire.

“Fourth…” Gemini’s voice was breathless. His hands moved to Fourth’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

Encouraged by the soft gasp and the warmth beneath him, Fourth’s hands drifted lower, undoing Gemini’s pants with careful precision. Each movement was slow, deliberate, savoring the reaction—the quick intake of breath, the arching of his back, the soft shiver that ran through him.

Gemini’s lips curved into a playful, half-shy grin. “You… really don’t waste time, do you?” he murmured, voice thick with anticipation.

Fourth only smiled against Gemini’s skin, pressing a soft kiss to his collarbone, letting the heat and closeness guide him.

Fourth’s hand moved lower, wrapping around Gemini’s cock and guiding it to his ass with careful firmness. Gemini froze for a heartbeat, eyes wide with surprise, a soft gasp escaping him. “Wait… Fourth, lube... condom?” he asked, voice shaky, “I haven't even prepped you”.

Fourth shook his head slowly, his thumb brushing over Gemini’s length. “No… I don’t need it,” he murmured, voice low and earnest. “I want to feel you… raw.”

Gemini’s pulse quickened, a flush spreading across his cheeks. The intensity in Fourth’s eyes—hungry, reverent, and undeniably focused on him—sent shivers down his spine. He swallowed, heart racing, before nodding slightly, a mixture of trust and anticipation shining through.

Fourth leaned down, pressing a slow, grounding kiss to Gemini’s lips, letting the warmth and closeness speak everything words could not. His other hand cupped Gemini’s face, steadying him as he aligned himself to Gemini’s cock, the heat between them tangible, charged, and unbearably intimate.

The apartment felt impossibly quiet around them, the soft morning light painting everything in a gentle glow, yet the tension, the need, and the closeness between them were undeniable. Each shallow breath, each trembling heartbeat, made the moment feel fragile, alive, and impossibly real.

As Fourth sank down, the ache hit in full force, and he couldn’t hold back a sob, trembling over Gemini’s lap. Tears pooled in his eyes, streaming down his cheeks, every nerve screaming in pain, yet beneath it all, there was a desperate, burning need.

Gemini’s hands were immediately on him, gentle but firm, cradling him as he murmured softly, “Shh… it’s okay… I’ve got you.” His thumbs brushed soothing circles over Fourth’s back, grounding him, letting him lean into the warmth and safety beneath him.

Fourth gasped, trying to steady himself, but the sobs kept spilling out. Gemini pressed a soft kiss to his temple, murmuring reassurance with every breath. “Breathe… I’m right here. You’re okay… you’re with me.”

Then Fourth rolled his hips onto Gemini’s, trying to find the right angle, but a sharp sting shot through him. His breath caught, a tremor running through his body as more tears pooled in his eyes. He clenched the sheets beneath him, every movement sending a mix of pain and desperate need coursing through him.

Gemini froze, eyes wide with alarm. “Fourth…?” His hands moved to grip Fourth’s arms, concern threading every touch. “Are you… you don't have to do this, okay?”

Fourth shook his head slightly, voice strained but urgent. “It… it hurts… but I… I want this.”

Gemini leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to Fourth’s temple, murmuring soothingly. “We’ll take it slow… I’ve got you,” he whispered, his hands firm and grounding. The warmth of Gemini beneath him, the soft steady presence, was enough to make Fourth steady his shaking body, letting the pain blend into the intensity of the moment rather than overwhelm it.

Fourth kept rolling his hips onto Gemini’s, sending sharp jolts of pain through him. His teeth clenched, eyes watering, but beneath the ache was a raw, undeniable need—a fire that made him feel alive, awake, real. Every throb, every tremor, reminded him that he was here, that this—Gemini, the closeness, the intimacy—was not a dream, not a hallucination, but real.

Gemini’s hands gripped Fourth’s back, steadying him, soft murmurs of encouragement slipping past his lips. “… we can stop whenever” he said, voice thick with concern and longing, his eyes never leaving Fourth’s.

Fourth gasped, leaning forward, pressing a shaky kiss to Gemini’s shoulder, letting the sting of pain mix with the thrill of connection. “I… I want it,” he whispered, voice ragged, trembling with effort and need. “ I want this… with you.”

Gemini’s touch was gentle but firm, grounding Fourth, letting him ride the intensity instead of letting it consume him. The apartment filled with their mingling breaths, racing hearts, and the electric tension, raw, and wholly alive.

He bit down on his lip, a quiet whimper escaping him, but the need in his chest overpowered the pain. Every movement, every friction, made him feel alive in a way nothing else could— real, undeniable.

Gemini’s hands were everywhere at once—gripping Fourth’s shoulders, tracing his sides, grounding him with every touch. “You’re… so strong,” Gemini murmured, voice thick with desire. “Just… lean on me. I’ve got you.”

They moved together in a slow, chaotic rhythm—pain and pleasure tangled, every shift and sigh binding them closer. Fourth pressed a forehead to Gemini’s, eyes locking in a moment of raw honesty, “I… I feel… so real… with you.”

Gemini’s fingers tightened around him, a soft laugh escaping despite the tension. “Good… then hold onto that,” he whispered, lips brushing Fourth’s temple.

Fourth’s chest heaved, each breath ragged and tremulous. His eyes met Gemini’s, and for a brief second, he caught the faint furrow of confusion in his gaze. Gemini didn’t really understand the words spilling from Fourth’s lips—how could he?

Even so, Gemini was unwavering. His hands stayed firm yet gentle on Fourth’s back, his lips pressed soothingly to his skin, his murmurs of encouragement steady and warm. “I’ve got you,” he said again, soft and sure, and Fourth felt the weight of that care, grounding him amid everthing.

A small, ragged laugh escaped Fourth despite the pain. “You… you have no idea what I’m even saying, do you?” he gasped, voice trembling.

Gemini’s half-sleepy grin only widened, eyes sparkling with affection. “Not really,” he admitted, voice light but tender. “But that’s okay. I got you… in other ways.”

The words, simple as they were, made something inside Fourth loosen, a shiver of relief and warmth running through him. Even in the edge of pain, even in the haze of need, Gemini’s sweetness—his steady presence, his playful trust—made everything feel real, grounding, and somehow unbearably tender.

The ache that had made him gasp and whimper gradually shifted, blurring at the edges, mixing with a raw, searing heat that spread from deep inside him. Each movement, each press of his body against Gemini, sent tiny jolts of pleasure along that line of pain, teasing and building, impossible to ignore.

Fourth’s breaths came faster, shallow and ragged, each gasp a mix of sharp sting and growing fire. The sensation folded in on itself—pain sharpening, then softening, then blossoming into waves of heat that made him shiver uncontrollably. His hips moved on instinct, driven by the tension that stretched tight between agony and desire, each motion sending sparks of sensation rippling outward.

The tension coiled tighter and tighter inside Fourth until it could no longer be contained. A sudden, fiery wave of pleasure ripped through him, making his body shudder violently in Gemini’s lap. Every nerve felt electric, every gasp, every cry tearing out of him with raw intensity.

Gemini’s hands gripped him firmly, his own body responding in kind. The heat, the closeness, the rhythm they’d shared all built together until there was no distinction—only the overwhelming, all-consuming release that swept over them both. Gemini’s breath hitched, his voice breaking into ragged moans as his climax followed Fourth’s, their movements locking them together in a shared, tremulous wave of ecstasy.

They cried out, shuddered, and pressed into each other, hearts racing, sweat-slick and trembling. The apartment around them disappeared, leaving only the intensity of sensation, the heat of skin against skin, and the undeniable truth of their connection.

For a long moment, they stayed like that—swaying slightly, still tangled, still gasping for air, their bodies humming with the aftershocks of pleasure.

Gemini shifted slightly, brushing a strand of damp hair from Fourth’s forehead. His fingers traced soft patterns along Fourth’s back as he spoke, voice gentle but curious. “Fourth… do you want to… talk about what’s bothering you?”

Fourth’s chest rose and fell rapidly, still riding the tremors of their shared intensity. He shook his head, voice low and ragged. “No… just… kiss me,” he whispered, his lips barely parting in a plea.

Gemini’s eyes softened, a small, understanding smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he leaned down, pressing slow, tender kisses across Fourth’s face—forehead, cheek, jaw—before finally capturing his lips in a lingering, grounding kiss.

This couldn’t be fake. Not the heat of Gemini beneath him, not the way his hands clutched Fourth’s back, not the soft, steady reassurance in his voice. They were living. Breathing. Real.

Fourth melted into him, letting the warmth, the softness, the gentle rhythm of Gemini’s mouth speak what words could not. Every lingering touch, every subtle brush of lips, carried reassurance, affection, and the quiet promise that he didn’t need to explain anything right now. Not yet.

They stayed like that, pressed close, hearts slowly calming, breaths mingling. The morning light filtered through the apartment, soft and warm, as Fourth let himself simply exist in the moment—held, safe, and undeniably real with Gemini as they fell back to sleep.

.

.

The afternoon sunlight crept in through the blinds, thin stripes of gold cutting across the bed, painting Gemini’s hair in soft highlights. Fourth blinked against the brightness, mind still foggy from the morning’s exhaustion, the adrenaline, and the surreal shock of everything he’d discovered last night.

He shifted carefully, letting Gemini burrow closer for warmth, and stared out the window at the city below. The missing papers, the mirror letters, the haunting background music—it all pressed against his mind with an impossible weight. He had to do something. Anything.

A strange resolve settled over him, cold and electric. “If this is… if all of this is being written,” he muttered under his breath, fingers brushing Gemini’s shoulder, “then… then I’ll write my own moments. I’ll… test it.”

The thought made his chest tighten with both fear and thrill. He imagined bending the rules, making choices that felt unlikely, impossible, absurd—seeing if the world around him would bend, hesitate, respond differently. Could he step outside the author’s intentions? Could he force the narrative to acknowledge him as more than a character?

Fourth’s gaze flicked to Gemini, soft and still half-asleep, the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding him. “You’re real,” he whispered, almost to himself, a vow he could cling to. “I’ll prove that some things… some people… are mine. Not written. Not scripted.”

He rolled onto his side, brushing a strand of hair from Gemini’s face, thoughts racing. He could test boundaries—say something unexpected, act against the flow of the story, leave notes in odd places, even speak to the ‘outside’ world if it existed. Every instinct screamed that this was insane, that he was diving into the impossible—but the thrill of agency, the idea that he could push back, was intoxicating.

Fourth pressed a hand to his chest, heart hammering. The universe of his life felt simultaneously infinite and suffocating, but for the first time, he felt a flicker of control. Not over the world entirely—perhaps not even over the story—but over himself, his choices, his reaction to it all.

He leaned down, kissing Gemini’s temple softly, whispering, “You’re mine. And I… I’ll make sure I matter. Even if I’m… a character. Even if I’m… insane.”

The thrill of rebellion, quiet but undeniable, settled into his bones. Today, he would start testing the limits. Today, he would assert that, even in a story, he had the right to carve his own moments.

Fourth watched Gemini stretch and yawn, still cocooned in the warmth of the bed. He let the moment linger a beat longer, savoring it, before slowly rolling away and standing. His mind raced—what would happen if he did something unexpected? Something the “author” hadn’t scripted?

He padded barefoot across the room, eyes darting to ordinary objects, the window latch, the coffee mug on the counter, the pile of clothes that Gemini had left haphazardly on the floor. All mundane. All innocuous. And yet… he felt the thrill of potential chaos simmering beneath the surface.

Fourth grabbed Gemini’s hoodie from the bed, holding it up. Instead of tossing it casually onto the chair, he wrapped it around his own shoulders, letting the sleeves drag almost absurdly past his hands. Gemini stirred, blinking blearily.

“Uh… Fourth?” Gemini mumbled, voice thick with sleep and confusion.

Fourth grinned mischievous. “Mornin’. Thought I’d… switch things up a bit.”

Gemini blinked, then giggled, tugging lightly at the sleeve. “Switch… what?”

“Everything,” Fourth said with mock seriousness, tilting his head. He spun once in a small, ridiculous circle, feeling the soft fabric brush against his knees. It was absurd. Dramatic. A tiny, defiant act—and he reveled in it.

Gemini laughed, warm and genuine, dragging himself up on an elbow. “You’re… ridiculously … cute.” His voice was still husky from sleep.

Fourth’s grin widened, heart thumping. The experiment was working… maybe? The narrative—whatever force had been observing him—hadn’t crushed him yet... Gemini’s laugh, his reaction, his presence, were proof that some things were untouchably real.

Emboldened, Fourth reached for a notebook he had left on the nightstand, jotting down a small, absurd note, “Today, I decide my own beats. Watch and see.”

After the small victory with the hoodie and the note, Fourth felt a rush of daring pulse through him. He glanced at Gemini, still amused and sleepy, and whispered, “Stay here… I’m going to see if I can… bend things a little.”

Gemini hummed, burying his face against the pillow, but gave a soft nod. Fourth grinned, heart hammering with anticipation, and stepped into the living room.

He spotted the pile of mugs on the counter, remnants of last night’s chaos. Normally, he’d have carefully stacked them or ignored them, like any conscientious character following the “scene’s natural flow.” Today, he picked one up, held it carefully in both hands, and deliberately placed it upside down on the table. An almost absurd test to see would anyone notice, or would the story correct itself?

From the bedroom, Gemini’s laughter drifted faintly. “You’re… are such a weirdo?”

Fourth smirked, ignoring the echo of his own nerves. He grabbed his phone and sent a single, cryptic text to Mark, “Meet me outside in ten. No reason. Just… testing.” His pulse spiked.

Mark’s reply came almost instantly, confusion clear even through words, “Uh… okay? Sure? What did you do?”

A thrill ran through Fourth. The author couldn’t have scripted this? Mark was reacting freely. Gemini’s warmth and the room’s familiar comfort reminded him that he wasn’t alone.

Fourth slipped on his shoes, heart pounding with equal parts dread and excitement. He glanced back at Gemini, still curled up in bed, half-asleep but smiling faintly. “Stay here,” he murmured, voice low. “I’ll be back soon.”

Gemini mumbled something incoherent but snuggled further into the blankets.

Outside, the morning air was crisp, carrying the faint hum of the city waking up. Fourth strode down the familiar street toward the café where the gang usually gathered. Normally, he would follow the predictable path, nod, greet his neighbors. Today, he decided, none of that applied.

He burst through the door and, instead of joining the group as usual, he loudly announced, “I’m running a secret mission. No one can follow!”

The café fell silent for a beat. Satang blinked, wide-eyed, eyebrows knitting. “Wait… what?”

Mark dropped his coffee cup halfway to his lips. “Fourth… what the hell are you talking about?”

Fourth grinned, deliberately overacting, gesturing with arms wide. “I’m rebelling! I refuse to follow the script today. Everything I do—unexpected. Everything I say—unpredictable. Witness the chaos!”

Pond laughed nervously. Phuwin tilted his head, confused but intrigued. “Uh… okay?” Satang stammered.

The reactions weren’t quite what Fourth expected.

Fourth’s grin widened. “Yes! It’s working!” He plopped dramatically onto the nearest chair, sprawling in a way that would have been impossible yesterday. Satang let out a surprised laugh, shaking his head, while Mark and Phuwin exchanged confused looks.

“Fourth… you’re… you’re acting… weird,” Satang admitted, half-amused, half-worried.

“I know!” Fourth exclaimed, voice bright with glee. “That’s the point! I’m testing my agency. I’m… I’m a character trying to improvise!”

Pond snorted. “You’re insane, man.”

“Exactly!” Fourth said, flourishing his arms. “Insane, free, unpredictable! I’m carving my own path today, narrative or no narrative!”

The gang laughed, the café buzzing with new energy.

Mark leaned back, laughing nervously. “You… okay, man?”

“I’ve never been more okay!” Fourth exclaimed, pounding his fists lightly on the table for emphasis. “I’m doing things differently. I might spill the coffee. I might rearrange chairs. I might—who knows—leave a secret note for my ‘observer.’”

Pond blinked. “Secret… note?”

Fourth’s grin widened. He pulled a small notebook from his jacket pocket—the same one he had scribbled in earlier—and wrote boldly across a page, “I know you’re there. I’m aware. Let’s see how far I can go.” He waved it theatrically, almost challenging the invisible hand of the narrative.

Satang leaned in, whispering, “Fourth… you’re… this is insane?”

“Of course!” Fourth said, eyes glinting with a wild mix of fear and thrill. “But maybe… just maybe… it’s also genius.” He set the notebook on the table, open, daring the universe to respond.

The gang exchanged glances, confusion and amusement mingling. Nothing broke, nothing crumbled, nothing reacted overtly—but that was the point. Fourth could feel it, an almost imperceptible tension, like the air itself had shifted. The world was still intact, but it was listening.

He leaned back in his chair, satisfied, adrenaline thrumming through him. “Today,” he murmured under his breath, “I write my own scenes. And the story… it’s going to notice.”

Even Gemini, still dozing back at the apartment, lingered in his mind—a reminder that some things were real, unshakable. For the first time in weeks, Fourth felt a thrill of power, a dizzying mix of fear and delight.

Chapter Text

Many days  had passed since Fourth had embraced his self-awareness, since he’d declared himself “no longer an NPC.” Fourth’s perception of the world had subtly shifted. Things he had never noticed before now prickled at the edge of his mind, tiny inconsistencies that didn’t quite add up.

The café in his faculty, for example, seemed slightly off. A chair would wobble for no reason, even when the floor was flat. A coffee cup would inexplicably end up in a slightly different place after he glanced away. The hum of the refrigerator back at his apartment sometimes stuttered, a beat too early or late. Shadows didn’t always line up with the light. Even Gemini’s hair, soft and golden in the morning sun, occasionally flickered—like a frame in a video skipping imperceptibly.

Fourth’s pulse quickened every time he noticed a glitch. Some were harmless, almost comical, a stray paper floating impossibly on air before landing, or a bird repeating its chirp with exact precision multiple times. Others were disorienting, bending reality just enough to make him question his senses.

Every morning, the sunlight through his window flickered for a fraction of a second.  Even the hum of the street outside seemed slightly off-tempo, shadows stretching just a little too long, a pedestrian repeating a step exactly twice before moving on.

“Okay…” he muttered, pacing slowly, fingers brushing over the back of a chair that seemed to jitter under his touch. “If I’m aware… if I can see the story… then these are… glitches. They’re not hallucinations. They’re… mistakes. Or cracks.”

He sipped his coffee and muttered under his breath, voice low but sharp with mockery, “Really? That’s the best you can do?”

The absurdity of it made him chuckle, leaning back in his chair. “You know, whoever’s writing this… they’ve got zero imagination. And no sense of subtlety. Honestly, I could do a better job. Hell, I am doing a better job just by noticing your sloppy work.”

He gestured vaguely at the world around him, as if the air itself were eavesdropping. “You think you’re clever with these glitches, but I see every single one. Pathetic. Amateur hour.”

Fourth laughed aloud, loud enough to turn a few heads at the café. He leaned forward, mock conspiratorial, voice dropping to a stage whisper. “You think you can control me, dictate my choices, plot my life like some kind of puppet master? Well, newsflash—I’m awake now. And you? You’re getting roasted.”

After a few days of cataloging the world’s oddities and teasing the invisible author, Fourth began noticing patterns beyond mere glitches. Certain events seemed to have a rhythm, a sense of closure and then a new beginning, almost like chapters in a book.

Fourth started noticing that mirrors weren’t just reflecting the world—they were kind of like- signposts in the story. Every time a new chapter—or a narrative shift—began, something in the reflection would change.

Sometimes it was minor, the angle of sunlight bending differently on his hair, the shadows in the room slightly off, or the faintest shimmer across the glass that made him blink twice. Other times, it was dramatic, words flickering across the surface like the messages he’d seen before, faint and elusive, echoing the emotional arc of the scene he was in.

He started experimenting, standing in front of the mirrors around his apartment or at friends’ places, noticing patterns. After a climactic event—an argument, a big laugh, a flirtatious kiss with Gemini—the mirror would briefly distort or show something unusual, a ripple across the glass, a flicker of movement that wasn’t real. Those distortions always coincided with what he now recognized as chapter endings.

“And then…” he murmured one morning, watching the sun glint across his bedroom mirror, “the reflection resets. New angle, new light… new chapter.” The words almost seemed to appear in the mist of the glass itself, teasing him with their rhythm.

Fourth grinned, a mix of awe and mischief sparkling in his eyes. “So… the mirrors are my chapter markers, huh? Clever. I see your tricks, story.” He tapped the glass lightly, almost like nudging the author. “You can try to hide the seams, but I’m noticing them now.”

Occasionally, when a shift in his life’s “chapter” approached, a familiar flicker would appear. And sometimes, as if the story itself had a sense of humor, the words would materialize faintly on the glass, next chapter?

Fourth stared at it one morning, eyebrows raised. “Really? Next chapter? That’s the best you’ve got? Subtlety is clearly not your strong suit.” He laughed, the sound a mix of disbelief and amusement, and lightly tapped the mirror with one finger. Nothing happened. Of course nothing happened.

But he tapped again. And again. A little rhythm emerged, a tiny, private ritual. He’d tap the mirror whenever the words appeared, whispering sarcastically, “Yes, yes, very mysterious. Next chapter. Ooooh, thrilling.”

The words never responded. The ripples and flickers never changed. But Fourth didn’t care. The habit grounded him, a small act of control in a world that was otherwise dictated by invisible hands. Tapping the mirror became almost meditative, a wink at the author, a way to assert, I see you. I’m awake. And I’m not impressed.

Sometimes, when the morning light hit just right, the words would linger a fraction longer, teasing him. And Fourth would grin, shaking his head. “You think you’re clever, huh? Trying to warn me, or just trolling me?”

He tapped again, harder this time, laughing. “I’ll admit—cute attempt. But if you want me to fall for the suspense… you’ll have to try harder.”

.

.

Fourth would be going about his day—rifling through a drawer, opening a cupboard, reaching for a book—and there it was. A page. Neat typewriter font, crisp black ink, describing a scene he hadn’t lived yet.

Sometimes it was wedged between receipts in his wallet. Sometimes it was stuck under the fridge magnet. Once, it was tucked inside the bread bag.

And every single time, just as he leaned in to read more than a few lines, the words began to fade. Not smudge—fade, like they were being erased from reality itself.

He’d learned to grab them fast, squint, try to commit as much as possible to memory before they vanished entirely.

“…Phuwin smiles and says—” gone.
“…Pond’s breath catches as the door—” gone.
“…the tea on his hands—” gone.

“Hey! Come on!” Fourth would yell at the air, waving the disappearing page like it was a stubborn soap bubble. “You drop spoilers all over my apartment and then snatch them back? Coward!”

It was infuriating—and weirdly thrilling.

The first time it happened—back with the papers that night of the rap battle —he’d been terrified. Now? Now he found himself looking for them. He’d start poking around in unlikely places, behind the washing machine, under the mattress, even in the bathroom ceiling tiles.

Every time one appeared, his heart leapt. Every time it vanished, he swore creatively enough to make his high school teachers spin in their graves.

If the author was trying to hide something, Fourth decided, they were doing a spectacularly bad job. And he was going to keep looking until he caught one of these manuscript pages before it slipped away.

Sometimes, words would appear in reflective surfaces before anyone actually spoke them.

One time he had been at the café, waiting for a drink, the barista’s reflection in the counter glass flickered, and for a split second, faint letters shimmered across the surface, “That’ll be a caramel latte for you, right?”

Fourth blinked. The barista looked up. “That’ll be a caramel latte for you, right?”

His jaw dropped, then he laughed, shaking his head. “Okay… okay. That’s… creepy.”

Since then, it happened often enough. Reflections in taxi windows, bus mirrors, even the polished metal of a cashier’s counter would occasionally flicker with snippets of sentences, “Your total comes to 152 rupees.” “Excuse me, sir, can you move your bag?” “Would you like your receipt?”

Fourth had gotten into the habit of watching these surfaces with a mixture of anticipation and mockery. “Oh, here we go. Wait for it… wait for it…” he’d murmur whenever he saw a reflection shimmer. And almost without fail, the person’s next words matched the preview.

He tapped on the glass sometimes, sarcastically addressing the unseen author. “Really? Predictive dialogue now? You’re not even trying to be subtle anymore.”

Despite the creepiness, he couldn’t help but find it entertaining. It was like being in a video game where you could read the NPCs’ dialogue before they spoke. And it gave him a strange sense of power—he could anticipate the world, play along, and even mock the narrative as it unfolded.

And as ridiculous as it was, he felt a thrill every time

Then on a lazy Sunday afternoon. Fourth had gone up to the terrace to get some air, still half-distracted by a flickering sentence he’d seen earlier in the bathroom mirror. He pushed open the heavy metal door, stepped into the sunlight—

—and froze.

There, in the far corner of the terrace, hovering a few feet off the ground, was… a table. A round little café-style table, floating in the air like it had forgotten the rules of gravity. Its polished surface caught the sunlight, reflecting it in soft golden glints.

“What… the actual…?” Fourth walked over, eyes wide, half expecting it to glitch away the moment he got close. But no—it stayed. It didn’t even wobble. When he touched it, it was solid and cool under his fingertips, like a proper piece of furniture.

The world below him stretched out in all directions—city rooftops, the shimmer of distant water, the lazy hum of traffic. The air was fresher up here, tinged with the faint scent of jasmine from someone’s potted plants. He pulled one of the floating chairs closer (yes, there were chairs, also inexplicably suspended) and sat down.

It was perfect. Isolated but open, high above the noise, with just enough breeze to carry the feeling of freedom straight into his bones.

Fourth leaned back, grinning to himself. “Okay… okay, credit where credit’s due. Dear mysterious author, this… is chef’s kiss. Ten out of ten mistake.”

From that day on, it became his place. His sanctuary. Whenever the mirrors got too chatty or the story’s “glitches” made his brain ache, he’d slip up here with a cup of coffee, legs dangling off the edge, watching the sunset turn the city gold.

This one time, he’d been sprawled across the floating table on the terrace, sipping coffee and feeling smug about his secret sanctuary. The thing hung there just above the floor, anchored to nothing, casting no shadow.

Then Mrs. D’Souza from 3B came up to water her plants. She walked right past it. Not ignoring it—her eyes didn’t even flicker in its direction. She set down her watering can, hummed to herself, and nearly leaned through where one of the legs should have been.

Fourth had to stop himself from yelping.

It happened again with a teenager from 2C, headphones blasting. The kid leaned on the railing exactly where the table hovered, his arm passing through the edge like it wasn’t there.

By the fifth time, Fourth had theorized it. He set his coffee down, tapping his fingers on the glossy, impossible surface.

“Alright,” he muttered to no one. “Only people who know the curtain’s been pulled back can see you. The rest are… background.”

It made a strange kind of sense. Just like in games—NPCs didn’t notice the glitches. They couldn’t.

Fourth smirked at the table. “Guess that makes you and me special, huh?”

The table, naturally, didn’t answer.

Fourth raised his mug toward the sky in a mock toast. “Here’s to you, omnipotent scribbler. You really screwed up on this one—but damn if it isn’t the best screw-up I’ve ever seen.”

.

.

“You’ve been putting this off for weeks,” Gemini said, yanking open Fourth’s laundry bag and revealing an alarming mix of towels, blankets, and a jacket that could probably stand up on its own. “Today we tackle it all. Heavy duty cycle. No excuses.”

Fourth groaned, but didn’t protest. Mostly because Gemini had already grabbed half the pile and was hauling it toward the washing machine.

“You’ve been avoiding the heavy-duty stuff, haven’t you?” he said, already tugging the duvet out of its crumpled heap in the corner.

“It’s called letting it age like fine wine,” Fourth muttered, watching Gemini dump it into the washer with absolutely no respect for the art of procrastination.

The machine whirred to life, churning the water as they crammed in towels, sheets, and a hoodie that had somehow turned into a lint ecosystem. Steam began to drift from the open bathroom door, filling the apartment with that oddly comforting mix of detergent and warm air.

Fourth leaned against the counter, pretending not to enjoy watching Gemini roll up his sleeves, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he wrung out a stubbornly soaked blanket.

“You’re awfully cheerful for someone elbow-deep in laundry water,” Fourth said.

Gemini shot him a lopsided grin. “That’s because I know when we’re done, I’m claiming a victory coffee. You’re buying.”

Fourth smirked, but his mind drifted. He caught himself glancing toward the bedroom mirror—the one that sometimes betrayed the story before it happened—half-expecting to see a line of text about this very moment. Nothing. Just their reflections, Gemini’s slightly damp hair sticking to his forehead.

The washing machine beeped its victory chime, and within minutes, they were hauling damp blankets and heavy towels up the narrow staircase to the terrace. The morning air was crisp, sunlight spilling over the buildings in fractured gold.

Fourth balanced the basket against his hip, already bracing for the usual—Gemini chatting idly, completely oblivious to the floating table in the corner of the terrace. Nobody else ever noticed it. Not once.

But as they stepped out into the open air, Gemini’s gaze flicked—just for a second—toward the exact spot where the table hovered in midair, its polished surface catching the light like a piece of the sky made solid.

Fourth froze mid-step.
No. That had to be nothing. A coincidence. His brain, still stuck in “self-aware” paranoia mode, was inventing things again.

They started pinning the laundry to the line, the damp fabric slapping softly in the breeze. Fourth pretended to focus on the task, but his eyes kept darting toward Gemini. Every now and then, Gemini’s attention would wander—casually, unthinkingly—back to that spot.

It wasn’t the empty glance of someone looking at a blank wall. It was tracking.

Fourth’s chest tightened. He swallowed, hands fumbling with a clothes peg. By the time the last sheet was hung, his heart was thudding so loud he could barely hear the wind.

This wasn’t his imagination. He wasn’t delusional.
Gemini could see the table.

Fourth lingered by the laundry line, pretending to adjust the way a towel hung. In reality, he was watching Gemini out of the corner of his eye, pulse quick and uneven.

He needed to be sure.

“Hey,” Fourth said casually, stretching his arms like he’d just remembered something, “you want to take a breather before we head back down?”

Gemini shrugged, glancing around the terrace again—and there it was. That tiny, subconscious shift of his eyes toward the floating table. Fourth almost swore out loud.

“Cool,” Fourth continued, heart hammering. He walked—slowly—across the terrace, deliberately skirting just near the table’s invisible edge. If Gemini couldn’t see it, his movement would look pointless. If he could…

Gemini’s gaze flicked again. Just the barest twitch, following Fourth’s steps.

Fourth felt a spark of electric giddiness. Got you.

He crouched, tying an imaginary loose shoelace in the exact space under the table. “Careful here,” he said, tone light, “don’t bump into… whatever this is.”

Gemini smirked, like there was a private joke in the air he wasn’t explaining. “Yeah...”

Fourth’s head snapped up so fast he almost lost his balance.
He knows.

“You can see it,” Fourth blurted, unable to keep the grin from spreading across his face. “Don’t even try to lie—you looked at it twice.”

Gemini froze for a fraction of a second, then laughed. “See what? The air? I was just—”

“BULLSHIT,” Fourth cut in, his voice shaking with excitement. “Don’t you dare gaslight me, Gemini. I’ve been the only one for weeks. Weeks!”

“You saw it, I saw you see it! Oh my god—oh my god—I’m not insane!” Fourth’s laugh burst out too loud, echoing over the terrace. He squeezed Gemini’s arm, half shaking him. “You don’t understand, Gem, I have been alone with this for weeks. Weeks! Everyone else just… walks past it like it’s not even there. And you—”

“There’s no table,” Gemini said, but the way his shoulders tensed gave him away.

Fourth’s grin widened into something wild. “Oh my god. I never mentioned table”

Fourth continues, “you do see it. You see the glitches too, don’t you? the flickers, the—”

Gemini’s expression faltered. For a long moment, he just studied Fourth, as if weighing the risk of saying it out loud. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he admitted quietly. “I can see them. All of it. But I didn’t think you could. I thought you were… you know… normal. Just a regular character.”

Fourth laughed, breathless, the relief hitting so hard his knees almost buckled. “Normal? Oh, you have no idea how not normal I am. You have no idea what this means to me. I am not alone, Gem.”

Gemini tilted his head, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Guess not.”

For a second, Fourth was completely still. Then he exploded. He threw both arms around Gemini, practically knocking him off balance, laughing so hard it was almost a scream. “YES! YES, YES, YES! Oh, this is the best day of my life. We’re not NPCs, Gem! We’re player characters! We’re protagonists! This is—oh my god—we can do things with this!”

Gemini chuckled, slightly dazed. “You’re… really happy about this.”

“Happy?!” Fourth pulled back just enough to grin up at him, eyes wild with relief. “I’m ecstatic. This changes everything. EVERYTHING. We are in this together, Gem. And you have no idea how good that feels.”

Fourth practically dragged Gemini by the wrist, laundry forgotten, grinning like he was about to reveal the greatest secret in the universe.

“Come on, come on, come on! You’ve seen it, but you haven’t really seen it,” he said, nearly tripping over the last step to the terrace’s far corner.

Gemini followed, brow furrowed. “You’re acting like you’re about to introduce me to a celebrity.”

Fourth stopped short, swept his arm toward the empty air, and announced with the gravitas of a magician unveiling his finale, “Behold—The Table!”

Gemini’s eyes flicked to the impossible slab of polished wood hanging weightless above the floor. His lips twitched. “…That’s a table.”

“Not just a table,” Fourth said, climbing onto it like he’d done it a hundred times before. “This is my sanctuary. My writer’s-oopsie-turned-best-friend. Only the enlightened can see it, Gem.” He sprawled across the surface, gazing up at the sky with mock-regal grandeur. “For weeks, I thought I was destined to be the sole guardian of the floating furniture. Do you know the kind of existential loneliness that causes?”

Gemini smirked, stepping closer. “I think you’re just being dramatic.”

Fourth sat up sharply, pointing a finger at him. “No! This is monumental! You’re in the club now. No membership fee, but the hazing process is intense.” He patted the space beside him. “Sit. Try it. You’ll feel it—this weird, warm hum, like the world knows we’re breaking the rules and just… lets us do it anyway.”

When Gemini finally sat, Fourth beamed like a proud parent. “See? Told you. It’s perfect. Cozy. It’s mine—ours now, I guess—and no one else can ruin it because no one else even knows it exists.”

He leaned back, satisfied, and for a moment his voice dropped from overexcited to something quieter, more honest. “…I’m really glad you can see it, Gem. Makes me feel… less like I’m losing my mind.”

Gemini just hummed, watching him with an expression Fourth couldn’t quite read.

Fourth practically vibrated on the floating table, hands waving as if conducting an orchestra. “Okay, okay, first things first—you need to know what I’ve found. Mirrors. Everywhere. Not just mirrors—any reflective surface. Sometimes they show words before anyone says them. Baristas, bus drivers, cashiers… you name it. It’s like the world is leaking its script, and I’ve been the only one catching it!”

Gemini raised an eyebrow, tilting his head. “You’ve been… keeping track of this?”

“Of course I have! You think I’d let this slide?” Fourth waved a hand dramatically toward the terrace, as if the city itself could confirm. “And sometimes,” he continued, leaning forward, voice dropping conspiratorially, “I can spot where a chapter begins and ends. Mirrors, puddles, windows… sometimes even a shadow will hint it. I mean—look at that!” He tapped the glass railing beside them. Nothing happened. “Nothing now, of course. But before? Words. Clear as day, ‘next chapter?’ Every single time. I tap on it, just to see if it reacts. Usually doesn’t, but—it’s alive, Gem. Alive!”

Gemini laughed softly, shaking his head. “You’re kind of insane, aren’t you.”

Fourth beamed. “Thank you! Finally, someone agrees!”

“That wasn’t a compliment”

“But seriously, it’s incredible. The world is… glitching, Gem. And now that you can see it too, we can compare notes. Maybe figure out what’s planned for us. Or—dare I say it—what we can plan for ourselves.”

Fourth paused, eyes shining. “I’ve even found manuscripts sometimes—pages of scenes, characters, dialogue. They appear, I read them, and then poof, gone before anyone else can see them. And now…” He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a hush. “…we can watch together.”

Fourth’s excitement was still buzzing, fingers drumming against the table’s smooth surface as he rattled off everything he’d discovered. Gemini watched him quietly for a long moment, head tilted, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

Then, almost suddenly, he spoke, voice soft but steady. “You know… I’ve been aware for a long time. As long as I can remember.”

Fourth froze mid-tap, eyes wide. “Wait… seriously? You—”

“I’ve… been aware….,” Gemini said carefully, almost hesitantly. “As long as I can remember. I can also see the little things—the mirrors, the music, the words that appear before people speak them.”

Fourth’s heart skipped. “You… must have felt so alone”

Gemini nodded slowly, letting the words settle between them. “Yeah. But then I started… learning. Observing. Testing. Not too much, just little things.”

“Like what?” Fourth asked, leaning closer, eyes wide.

Gemini shrugged, a faint, nervous smile flickering. “..A lot... But I learned quickly—if you push too hard, if you try to rewrite events… it resists. The world fights back. Glitches get worse. Things… get messy.”

Fourth’s pulse quickened. “So… you’ve been following the story? Like… playing along?”

Gemini hesitated, then nodded again. “Yeah. I figured out that if you respect it, don’t break it too much… the author lets us exist. Really exist. You can live, make choices, feel things… as long as you don’t… overstep.”

Fourth blinked, trying to absorb it all. “So you…  you… didn’t tell anyone?”

Gemini’s gaze softened. “I didn’t know who else could see it. I thought you were… normal. A regular character. But now…” He glanced at Fourth, a small, conspiratorial smile forming. “…now I know you can see it too.”

“When you… respect it, it’s almost like… the world folds around you, lets you be.” Gemini continues.

Fourth’s chest tightened with a mix of awe and exhilaration. “You mean… we can exist, really exist, without being… puppets? As long as we’re smart about it?”

Gemini leaned closer, voice gentle, almost conspiratorial. “Exactly. We can be ourselves, Fourth. But we have to play the game. Don’t fight the author too hard, and they’ll let us breathe.”

Fourth exhaled slowly, eyes shining. A thrill ran through him—pure, dizzying relief. He couldn’t believe it. He wasn’t alone. Gemini had been awake in this world all along—and now they could navigate it together.

“And… you’re letting me in on this?” Fourth whispered, almost afraid to break the moment.

Gemini smirked, nudging him gently. “You’re already in, idiot. Welcome to the club.”

Chapter Text

Fourth’s eyes narrowed with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. “Wait… if you thought I was just an NPC, someone… not really self-aware, why were you spending time with me? Why me?”

Gemini looked down for a long moment, as if gathering courage. Then he met Fourth’s gaze, eyes soft but steady. “Because… even when I thought you weren’t awake, even when I assumed you were just following the story… there was something about you.Something… real in the way you moved, the way you laughed, the way you noticed everything around you.”

Fourth’s heart thumped.

Gemini’s lips pressed into a small, almost shy smile. “Because you care. Truly care. Not just about the story, not just about the people around you, but about the small things—the jokes, the little gestures, the way you notice Phuwin struggling with something or Satang’s shy glances. You feel things deeply, Fourth. You’re stubborn and curious and kind, and even when I thought you were just following a script… I couldn’t ignore that. I fell in love with the you I saw beneath it all.”

Fourth felt his chest tighten, the warmth spreading through him as the words sank in. “Even if I wasn’t… aware back then?”

Gemini nodded, voice softening. “Even then. I couldn’t help it. You pulled me in without even trying. And now… knowing you’re awake too… it feels like I can finally tell you without fear.”

Fourth exhaled slowly, eyes glistening, heart hammering. “God… Gem. That’s… that’s romantic. I can’t… I don’t know what to say.”

Gemini grinned, leaning just a little closer, playful yet tender. “Say you feel it too. Or just… stay here with me. That’s enough for now.”

Fourth’s chest tightened, a mix of awe and warmth washing over him. He stared at Gemini, trying to put words to the sudden surge in his chest. “God… Gem,” he breathed, voice catching slightly. “I… I love you too. I—”

Gemini’s lips curved into a wide, almost disbelieving smile, and Fourth’s heart thumped so loudly he was sure it would echo across the terrace. “You… you really mean that?”

“Every word,” Fourth said, letting his hand find Gemini’s. Their fingers intertwined naturally, like they had always been meant to fit together. “I can’t explain it. Maybe it’s the meta-awareness, maybe it’s the story… but when I’m with you, none of that matters. You’re real. You’re mine. And I’m yours.”

Gemini laughed softly, leaning closer, his forehead resting against Fourth’s. “Finally… I was starting to think I was the only one crazy enough to notice how… ridiculously perfect you are.”

Fourth chuckled, brushing a thumb along Gemini’s knuckles. “You think I’m perfect?”

“You are,” Gemini whispered, a teasing sparkle in his eye.

Then, almost instinctively, Gemini’s hand reached up, fingers tangling in the nape of Fourth’s neck. He pulled him close, tilting his head slightly, and the next moment his lips met Fourth’s in a kiss that was charged with everything they’d both been holding back.

Fourth’s hands instinctively gripped Gemini’s shoulders, leaning into the press of warmth, the familiar solidity grounding him. The air seemed to hum around them, the floating table forgotten, the city fading into background noise. For the first time every secret they’d been guarding felt like it had led to this exact, perfect moment.

Fourth shifted smoothly from the floating chair to sit on the edge of the floating table, the subtle sway of the table responding to his weight.

Fourth leaned down, lips capturing Gemini’s in a slow, commanding kiss that left no room for hesitation. His hands cupped Gemini’s face, thumbs brushing over his jaw, tilting him up, deepening the kiss. Gemini’s hands roamed instinctively, gripping Fourth’s hips, pulling him closer, the taut heat of their bodies pressing against one another across the small space between table and chair.

Gemini leaned forward in the floating chair, tilting Fourth’s head back with a firm hand at the nape of his neck.

Fourth’s fingers clawed at the edge of the floating table, trying to steady himself under the force of Gemini’s insistence, heart hammering, pulse skyrocketing. Gemini’s other hand moved to his waist, holding him flush against the chair, pressing him closer, tilting him up as he deepened the kiss.

A shiver ran down Fourth’s spine, heat pooling low, toes curling involuntarily as pleasure shot through him.

Then Gemini’s teeth grazed Fourth’s lower lip, biting down just enough to sting and thrill. Fourth gasped sharply, a shiver racing through him, heat pooling low and toes curling as the sharp bite sent jolts of pleasure and desire through his body.

 Gemini didn’t relent—he alternated between biting and sucking, lips and teeth claiming Fourth, pressing him flush against the chair, tilting him up with deliberate control.

His hands roamed possessively, sliding down Fourth’s sides, gripping his hips, holding him in place as his tongue found Fourth’s—slower, almost torturously teasing.

“You’re mine,” Gemini murmured against his lips, voice low and husky, teeth grazing the corner of his mouth.

“Ah—!” Fourth gasped, gripping the edge of the table, body trembling.

Gemini leaned closer, teeth brushing, nibbling, then pressing his lips back over the bite, sucking just enough to leave a teasing sting.

Fourth’s body arched, a soft moan slipping out, heat pooling, pulse racing, every nerve on fire from the combination of pressure, dominance, and the sharp sting of Gemini’s teeth.

“You like that,” Gemini murmured, voice low, rough, and commanding, his lips brushing Fourth’s ear.

Gemini broke the kiss just enough to catch his breath, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. “We… should probably go inside,” he murmured, voice low—but there was a tremor of heat in it that betrayed how turned on he was.

Fourth tilted his head, smirk tugging at his lips, teasing, bold. “No,” he said softly, voice thick with desire, leaning closer. “I… I want to do it right here.”

Gemini froze for a heartbeat, taken aback, a mix of surprise, arousal, and nervous excitement flashing across his face. His lips parted, and he swallowed hard, hand twitching slightly at Fourth’s side, unsure whether to move or simply stay pressed close. “H-here?” he stammered, voice husky, a flicker of disbelief and heat running through him.

Fourth’s fingers brushed against Gemini’s jaw, tilting his head up gently. “Yeah, I want it here,” he whispered, chest rising and falling, pulse racing.

Gemini’s gaze flicked away for a second, shy yet undeniably hungry, the tension coiling tight in his body. Then he let out a breathless laugh, half-shy, half-mischievous. “You’re insane… but—” His voice dropped into a low, rough murmur, “—I’m… who am I to say no.”

Fourth’s grin widened, heat and triumph in his eyes, as Gemini leaned in again, shyness giving way to a burning, turned-on intensity that mirrored Fourth’s own.

Fourth’s breath hitched, toes curling slightly as Gemini’s fingers traced along his waist and hips,  pulling his shorts down.

“Careful,” Gemini murmured, voice low, confident, and warm. “Wouldn’t want you to slip or… fall off the table.” His lips grazed Fourth’s temple as he spoke, teasing, close enough that Fourth could feel his breath.

Fourth laughed softly, breathless, leaning into the touch.

Fourth shifted on the floating table, a slowly, and helped tug his shorts down and boxers. Once they passed his knees they slipped down easily, gathering around one ankle, leaving him more exposed and vulnerable in a way that made his pulse race.

Gemini’s hands brushed along Fourth’s ankles, fingers lingering just long enough to make him shiver. Slowly, he guided Fourth’s left leg up, resting it over his shoulder with ease. Fourth gasped softly, the motion both surprising and thrilling, his body responding to the closeness, the heat, the electric charge of their shared balance on the floating table.

Gemini’s lips traced a slow, deliberate path along Fourth’s leg, starting at the ankle where the shorts had pooled. He nipped gently, then licked upward, the warmth and wetness sending shivers racing through Fourth’s body. Fourth gasped, arching instinctively as Gemini’s tongue glided over the smooth skin, teasing, lingering at every sensitive spot.

“Ah—Gem…” Fourth’s breath hitched, fingers gripping the edge of the floating table, legs trembling as desire pooled low, heart hammering.

Gemini’s hand slid up to Fourth’s thigh, pressing and holding him steady, while his mouth continued its slow ascent, tracing every line of muscle with care. He paused just at the edge of the inner thigh, lips brushing, teasing, before dragging a slow lick higher, making Fourth shiver violently.

Gemini’s lips lingered  teeth grazing and biting hard, leaving dark, burning mark. Then he sucked on it which sent sharp jolts of pleasure that made Fourth arch instinctively, fingers gripping the floating table so hard his knuckles whitened.

“Gem—ah… god…” Fourth’s voice trembled, each gasp betraying how completely he was on edge, heat pooling impossibly low, body trembling with need.

Gemini’s mouth closed over the tender skin of Fourth’s inner thigh, sucking hard enough to make Fourth cry out. The sharp pull of Gemini’s lips sent a wave of heat racing through him, the sensation almost too much—hot, wet, and deep, a claim stamped into his skin.

His hands roamed up to Fourth’s hips, fingers pressing, tilting him just enough to keep him tense, completely exposed, completely vulnerable.

“You feel so… delicious,” Gemini murmured, lips brushing over the most sensitive spots, teeth grazing again in a slow, deliberate tease.

Gemini’s tongue flicked over the spot he’d just marked, soothing and teasing all at once, before sealing his mouth there again, sucking slow and deliberate, drawing another ragged gasp from Fourth. His free hand stroked along the other thigh, just brushing dangerously close to where Fourth wanted him most, the proximity making the ache unbearable.

Fourth’s legs quivered, heat radiating, chest heaving, and his fingers dug into the edge of the table. “Please… I… I can’t… I’m so… ah—!”  His legs trembled around him, toes curling as he clutched at Gemini’s shoulders.

The floating table rocked faintly beneath them. Fourth’s breathing came in sharp, ragged bursts, every muscle taut with anticipation.

Gemini’s gaze flicked up, locking with Fourth’s—dark, hungry. Without breaking eye contact, he slid one hand from Fourth’s thigh, grabbing his length briefly before guiding Fourth’s cock toward his lips.

Fourth’s breath caught, pulse hammering as Gemini opened his mouth, taking Fourth’s length in slowly, sucking on the tip with the same teasing rhythm he’d been torturing his thigh with moments ago.

The wet heat of Gemini’s mouth around his length made Fourth’s chest tighten, a sharp rush of arousal flooding him. His lips parted on a soft, startled gasp as Gemini’s tongue curled around the tip in turn, dragging along the underside before pulling back just enough to let the air cool the damp skin.

“God, Gem…” Fourth’s voice was shaky, almost wrecked already, his free hand curling into the edge of the floating table.

“You taste good everywhere,” Gemini murmured, voice deep, wrecked. He kissed the tip once more before setting his hand gently back on his own thigh—then leaning in again, mouth hot and ready to return to its earlier path.

His lips sealed tight, drawing Fourth’s length deeper, and Fourth felt the pull of each slow swallow, the way Gemini’s throat flexed around him.

But then, through the haze, Fourth noticed it—Gemini’s free hand sliding down between his own legs. He kneaded slowly, his thumb brushing dangerously close to where his own need was straining.

A deep, low hum rumbled in Gemini’s chest as he sucked harder, his tongue curling and dragging along the length, tracing the sensitive vein, dipping down. Fourth’s breath hitched sharply.

Gemini’s thumb dragged over the ridge through the fabric of his boxers grabbing on to his own length, a faint groan slipping from his lips as his hips rolled into his own touch.

“Hnhgnn—” Fourth’s voice cracked, his thighs tensing involuntarily.

A sharp breath escaped Gemini, muffled by the Fourth’s cock in his mouth, as he began to rub himself.

Every slow massage to his own thigh seemed to mirror the rhythm of his sucking, like he was caught up in the same unbearable edge he was building in Fourth.

Fourth’s body shivered under the dual sensation—the wet, hot, relentless attention to his length and the sight of Gemini losing control. “Gem… ah… I—” he gasped, hips twitching, pulse spiking as the pleasure from Gemini’s mouth and hand combined into a dizzying heat.

Fourth’s gaze dropped to the movement—Gemini’s hand working himself, the subtle flex in his thighs, the tension in his jaw as the pleasure built. The sight alone made heat coil even tighter in Fourth’s gut.

Then Gemini’s eyes locked on Fourth, dark and heavy, like every movement of his hand was meant to show exactly what Fourth was doing to him, his is hand pumping up and down a little harder.

Fourth’s breath hitched violently, hips arching toward Gemini, body trembling, toes curling. “Gem… god… please…” he whispered, voice breaking, helpless against the heat rolling through him.

Gemini groaned, the vibration traveling up Fourth’s cock, a wet, desperate sound as he pressed harder against himself, teeth grazing Fourth’s tip between frantic licks. “Fuck… I’m—ahhh!” His hand clenched around himself, the need finally overtaking all control, his body trembling as release tore through him in a shuddering wave.

“Ah—Gem… I’m—oh god—!” Fourth gasped, body trembling violently, toes curling as heat pooled impossibly low. His breath came in ragged bursts as his thighs clamped down around Gemini’s head almost reflexively.

“I… I can’t…!” Fourth gasped, voice breaking, every nerve lit up in an unbearable, scorching combination of pleasure and desperation. His chest heaved, eyes half-lidded, mouth open in ragged moans, completely lost to the sensation.

Gemini’s groan grew louder, low and guttural, trembling with need as he finally abandoned restraint. His strokes became faster, harder, every motion amplified by the raw, desperate pleasure of being lost in Fourth.

“Fuck… I’m—oh—yes, ahh!” Fourth’s own release ripped through him like fire—sharp, relentless, overwhelming, on to Gemini’s mouth. He choked on Fourth’s cock for a moment as the cum hits his throat, coughing lightly, but his lips never let go.

Gemini’s eyes closed shut, savoring the taste. 

Fourth tasted like heat—like the burning sun on skin long exposed, warmth that clung and lingered, leaving an invisible mark. The salt of him—the sharp tang of sweat, exertion, something raw and unrestrained—hit Gemini’s tongue, making him hum low and thick with need.

The flavor fills him, mixes with the lingering heat in his chest, and settles deep in his gut.

Fourth’s legs shook violently, pulse hammering, thighs clamping instinctively, toes curling over the edge of the floating table. The heat of Gemini’s mouth, the slick wetness of Gemini’s throat on his cock—it all collided, making him cry out, completely consumed.

Gemini’s own climax followed almost instantly, hand gripping himself with abandon, mouth wet and warm around Fourth’s length, body trembling and shuddering as pleasure tore through him in waves, overwhelming. He emptied himself on to Fourth’s inner thigh. White ribbons splattering all over him.

When the tremors finally subsided, Fourth sagged back against the table, chest heaving, fingers slick and trembling, while Gemini rested partially over him, breathing raggedly, forehead pressed against Fourth’s thigh, dark eyes still heavy with heat.

“I… mine,” Gemini murmured, voice low, husky. “All of you….”

Gemini dragged his palm up, spreading the cum he spilled  on Fourth’s inner thigh, fingers splaying as they moved.

He painted in wide, possessive motions all across his thigh, down the curves of Gun’s nether region. The sticky heat coated everything, a shimmering layer that caught the flickering light.

Fourth’s back arched subtly, chest rising with each stroke of Gemini’s palm as he spread the cum along his inner thigh. The warm, sticky slickness combined with the pressure of Gemini’s hand made him shiver, hips lifting ever so slightly, caught in the teasing rhythm.

It almost felt like Gemini was branding him—claiming him, marking him in a way.  Fourth’s chest heaved, heat pooling low, pulse hammering, and suddenly he couldn’t hold back any longer,  he pulled Gemini up toward him, closing the small distance between them.

Their lips met in a fierce, hungry kiss, a collision of need and desire. Fourth’s hands tangled in Gemini’s hair, holding him close as his body pressed flush against Gemini’s, feeling every curve, every inch of warmth.

Gemini groaned into the kiss, tilting his head to deepen it, tongue moving over Fourth’s with wet, teasing insistence. His hands roamed, tracing along Fourth’s sides and hips, clutching him like he could never let go, while the other hand lingered possessively on his thigh, still slick and warm from cum.

Fourth gasped between kisses, breath hot and ragged, body trembling under the combined weight of Gemini’s touch and the desperate closeness of their mouths. Every motion, every press of lips and teeth, was electric, overwhelming, as though the world outside had ceased to exist.

Fourth’s chest heaved against Gemini’s, lips still locked in a hungry kiss, when he pulled back just slightly, breath ragged —a thin, glistening string of saliva stretching from Gemini’s lips to his own.

Fourth gagged, “ugh… you… you taste like… like salty musk, Gem! God, it’s—ugh!” His nose wrinkled slightly, even as his pulse raced and body trembled from the intensity of their closeness.

Gemini’s eyes darkened with amusement, a slow, teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Oh? That’s funny… because that’s your cum. You taste like this,” he murmured, voice low and sultry, brushing his nose along Fourth’s in a playful, intimate nudge. “You can’t really blame me for enjoying it.”

Fourth groaned, leaning back slightly but still flush with heat. “Ugh… gross! You’re so gross, Gem. I—ugh… can’t believe you—eww…” He gasped, half-laughing, half-moan, still trapped in the delicious heat of Gemini’s presence. “ And now my thighs are all… sticky! I can’t… I can’t even put my shorts back on without feeling gross,” he complained.

Gemini’s dark eyes roamed over Fourth’s thighs, lingering on the slick, sticky sheen that coated them. A slow, wicked grin tugged at his lips. “You know… you look incredibly hot like that,” he murmured, voice low and husky, fingers brushing lightly over the gleaming substance.

Fourth’s cheeks flushed deep crimson, breath catching at the words, body trembling under the attention. “… ugh… you are so filthyy!” he protested, even as his pulse spiked, hips shifting slightly under Gemini’s gaze.

Gemini chuckled low, leaning closer, letting his thumb drag slowly along the sticky sheen.

Fourth’s back arched slightly, hips shifting almost instinctively as Gemini’s fingers traced the slick, sticky trail along his thigh. A sharp intake of breath escaped him, followed by a low, involuntary groan. His toes curled over the edge of the floating table, thighs trembling under the teasing pressure.

A sudden shout from below made both of them freeze mid-motion. Fourth’s neighbors were bickering loudly, their voices carrying up the stairs and toward the terrace. The sound shattered the private haze around them, and Fourth’s eyes widened in panic.

“Shit—” Gemini muttered, scrambling slightly. His hands moved quickly, helping Fourth tug his shorts back into place, adjusting them in a flustered, hurried motion. Fourth’s cheeks burned, a mix of residual heat and embarrassment, as he tried to regain some composure.

Gemini hurriedly tucked himself in and zipped up, muttering under his breath. “Okay… almost… done…” His movements were brisk, fingers fumbling slightly, but precise enough to get them both decent before anyone could appear on the terrace.

The terrace door swung open, voices still carrying as Fourth’s neighbors finally reached the top.

“Shit—lets make a run for it!” Fourth hissed, grabbing Gemini’s hand.

They scrambled, both laughing breathlessly, hearts hammering from the adrenaline and lingering heat of their earlier intensity. Gemini dragged Fourth, brushing against the arguing neighbors in a chaotic blur. “Sorry—sorry!” Fourth yelped, giggling breathlessly as they shoved through, the neighbors too shocked to react properly.

Gemini laughed low and dark, tugging Fourth along. “Move! Move!”

Their bodies pressed close as they stumbled down the stairs, adrenaline and lingering heat mixing with the thrill of nearly being caught. Shouts of confusion followed them, but the pair didn’t slow, hearts hammering, laughter spilling out uncontrollably as they barreled past each landing.

Finally, they reached the bottom, collapsing behind a corner, flushed and breathless, giggling as they caught their breath.

 “Next time,” Gemini whispered, voice low and teasing, “we are definitely not doing it in public places.”

Chapter Text

Dr. Tay adjusted his glasses, jotting something in his notebook before glancing up. “So… how have things been since our last session? Any more… unusual visual or auditory experiences?”

Fourth leaned back in the chair, arms crossed loosely. He gave the man a faint smile—polite, but a little too controlled. “Nope. Nothing. All good.”

Dr. Tay’s brow furrowed slightly. “Nothing at all?”

“Not a thing,” Fourth replied, lying as smoothly as if it were the truth. His heartbeat didn’t even skip. “Guess it was just stress. Or maybe I needed more sleep.”

Dr. Tay nodded slowly, scribbling again. “That’s… promising. I’ll make a note of it. But you’ll tell me if anything returns, yes?”

“Of course,” Fourth said, still smiling. He didn’t bother explaining that the hallucinations weren’t hallucinations at all, but cracks in the world’s paper-thin façade. That the floating table on his terrace was real. That Gemini could see it too.

What would be the point? Dr. Tay lived firmly inside the story—inside the rules. Even if Fourth spelled it out, the man would never believe him. He’d call it delusion, medicate it away, and all that awareness would be smothered under prescriptions.

So instead, Fourth just nodded, leaning forward like the perfect, cooperative patient. “Thanks, Doc. I think I’m good now.”

And when he stepped out of the office, the glass door reflected a faint shimmer of text—half a sentence, mid-paragraph. Fourth caught himself smirking.
Lying was easy when the truth belonged to another world entirely.

When Fourth returned home he found Gemini sprawled across his couch, hoodie half-zipped, scrolling lazily through his phone.

“Back from the doc?” Gemini asked without looking up.

“Yeah,” Fourth said, kicking his shoes off and dropping onto the couch beside him. “Told him I’m all cured. No more ‘hallucinations.’”

That got Gemini’s attention. His head snapped up, eyes narrowing. “You lied to him?”

Fourth grinned. “What was I supposed to do? Tell him I’m seeing chapter breaks in mirrors and reading people’s lines before they say them? He’d just up my dosage and pat himself on the back.”

Gemini chuckled, tossing his phone aside. “True. If it doesn’t fit the script, it must be broken.”

“Exactly,” Fourth said, leaning back and throwing an arm over the backrest. “No point telling someone who’s basically an extra in the background. They can’t even see the good parts.”

“The ‘good parts,’” Gemini echoed, smirking. “Like your floating table.”

Fourth smirked back. “Our floating table.”

Gemini’s eyes softened, the sarcasm melting for a moment. “Yeah…ours.”

Gemini broke eye contact first, leaning forward to grab a cushion and idly tossing it in his lap. “You know… I meant what I said before. Don’t mess with the author too much.”

Fourth snorted. “You sound like one of those horror movie characters who warns the idiot not to go into the basement.”

“I’m serious,” Gemini said, his tone losing its playful edge. “The author… they’re not always gentle. You start poking holes in the story, they’ll find ways to patch them—ways you won’t like.”

Fourth tilted his head, watching him carefully. “What, like delete me?”

Gemini’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Or worse. Rewrite you.”

That actually made Fourth shiver. He tried to mask it with a smirk. “Well, I’m already perfect, so good luck to them.”

Gemini shook his head, a small smile tugging at his mouth despite himself. “Just… promise me you won’t go looking for trouble. If the author thinks you’re playing nice, they’ll let you be. And trust me—freedom in here is rare.”

Fourth leaned back, gaze drifting toward the window. “Maybe. But you know me, Gem… I’m not great at playing nice.”

Gemini groaned, tossing the cushion at him. “And that’s exactly what worries me.”

“Get dressed,” he continued.

Fourth blinked at him. “Uh… I am dressed.”

“Better,” Gemini clarified, standing up and surveying him like a fashion critic. “You’re coming with me.”

“Where?” Fourth asked, suspicious.

Gemini only smirked. “Somewhere… the author didn’t mean to exist.”

That was all it took to get Fourth moving. Fifteen minutes later, they were on the subway, Gem refusing to elaborate no matter how many times Fourth poked at him for answers.

When they stepped out, it was into a street Fourth didn’t recognize—a sleepy corner of the city tucked away from the usual bustle. Gemini led him down a narrow alley, up a rusted fire escape, and through the broken doorway of an abandoned clocktower.

Inside, Fourth froze.

Sunlight streamed through fractured stained glass in shimmering colors, painting the dusty floor in patches of gold, red, and blue. But the best part—the part that made his heart skip—was the massive pendulum, unmoving, hovering a few inches above the floor as if caught mid-swing.

“It’s been like that since I found it,” Gemini said softly, stepping inside. “No one else can see it stop. To them, it’s just… a regular clock.”

Fourth stepped closer, touching the cold metal. “It’s beautiful.”

“Wait till you see the rooftop garden.”

“There is a garden here?!?”

Gemini didn’t explain. He just pulled a folded strip of fabric from his pocket and, before Fourth could protest, tied it snugly over his eyes.

“Really?” Fourth muttered as Gemini steered him down unfamiliar streets. “This feels like the start of either a romantic surprise or a crime documentary.”

“Shut up and walk,” Gemini said, amused.

They turned a few corners, climbed a short set of steps, and finally stopped. Gemini’s hands were warm on Fourth’s shoulders as he said, “Okay. Ready?”

Fourth barely had time to say “I was born—” before the blindfold came off.

His words died.

They were standing in a tiny park wedged between two tall, soot-stained apartment buildings—nothing more than a square of earth surrounded by cracked pavement. But in the center, against all logic, a single cherry tree stood in full bloom.

Pale pink blossoms swayed gently in a breeze that didn’t touch the rest of the city. Petals drifted down like lazy snowflakes, melting the instant they touched skin, leaving no trace of moisture. The air was cooler here, sweeter, carrying the faintest scent of spring even though the streets outside baked in midsummer heat.

Fourth stepped forward slowly, eyes wide. “This… this is….”

Gemini’s smile was small, almost proud. “No one else can see it. To them, it’s just an empty patch of dirt. They walk right past.”

A petal landed in Fourth’s hair and vanished. “It’s like… the author copy-pasted a season from somewhere else and forgot to color-correct.”

“Exactly,” Gemini said.

Fourth laughed softly, circling the tree. “So… frozen pendulums, and now out-of-season cherry blossoms. How many of these places do you know?”

Gemini just shrugged, but there was that flicker again—something in his eyes that said he knew more than he’d ever admit at once. “Enough to keep us busy.”

Fourth tilted his head back, letting the impossible petals fall across his face. “Okay… you win. This beats the table. Almost.”

The grass grew in perfect green waves without a speck of dirt showing, and flowers bloomed in neat, unnatural symmetry. The light felt softer than real sunlight, and the air hummed faintly, like the world was holding its breath.

“This… is cheating,” Fourth murmured, crouching to touch a patch of grass. It was warm, almost pulsing faintly beneath his fingers.

Gemini only smiled. “Cheating is how you find the good places.”

Fourth lingered under the branches, tilting his head to watch the petals spiral down. “Feels like I could just… stay here forever.”

Gemini’s smile dimmed, though he didn’t move from his spot near the park’s entrance. “You could. But you’d fade.”

Fourth glanced over. “Fade?”

“You’d stop getting written into the rest of the world,” Gemini said, his voice quiet enough that it almost got lost in the soft hum of the air. “Stay in one unrendered pocket long enough and you stop being part of the story. The author forgets you’re there.”

Fourth’s brow furrowed. “You make that sound like a bad thing.”

“It is,” Gemini said simply. “Forgetting isn’t freedom—it’s deletion in slow motion.”

Fourth leaned back against the tree, pretending not to feel the small shiver that ran up his spine. “So I can visit, but not move in. Got it.”

Gemini finally stepped closer, the cherry blossoms phasing through his hair like they couldn’t quite decide whether to exist on him. “There are other places. Stranger ones. And the more of them you see, the more you’ll start noticing the seams everywhere.”

“Can you show me the rest?” Fourth asked. Gemini’s eyes met his, steady.

Before Fourth could question, Gemini grabbed his hand, tugging him through a narrow gap between buildings. Their fingers tangled naturally, neither letting go.

Gemini led Fourth down a narrow, dim staircase, the city’s usual hum fading behind them until the roar of the busy station above became a distant echo.

“This one’s hidden in plain sight,” Gemini murmured, sliding open a rusted gate to reveal an unused platform. “ You have to… look a little closer.”

Fourth’s eyes widened. The walls were alive with neon graffiti, colors throbbing softly like a heartbeat. Dragons curled and uncurled, stars shifted into constellations, and he could have sworn one pattern had spelled out his name—then melted away into abstract swirls before he could point it out.

“Whoa,” he breathed, spinning slowly in place. “It’s… moving. It’s alive.”

Gemini stepped closer, letting his fingers brush against Fourth’s arm. “Not alive. Just… waiting for someone who sees it.”

Fourth grinned, leaning into him. “Good thing you brought me, then. Or maybe I brought you?”

Gemini’s smirk was slow, mischievous. “You’re starting to sound like one of those poetic types. Dangerous for me… and extremely flattering.”

Fourth tilted his head, watching a dragon coil into the shape of a heart. “Flattering’s my specialty.”

“Is that so?” Gemini murmured, stepping close enough that Fourth could feel the warmth radiating from him. “Maybe I should test that theory.”

Fourth laughed, bumping him lightly with his shoulder.

The colors around them pulsed faster, like the walls were keeping time with their laughter and playful nudges. Each shift of the neon seemed to respond to their movements, dragons curling into shapes that hinted at private jokes only the two of them would understand.

Fourth reached out, touching a constellation as it shimmered past his fingers. “It’s like the world’s conspiring to make this our playground.”

Gemini grinned, tracing his hand along Fourth’s wrist. “Exactly. And the rules are simple, you stay close, you don’t overthink it… and you enjoy it.”

“I think I could get used to this,” Fourth said, brushing his thumb against Gemini’s hand. “Especially with a tour guide like you.”

“Careful,” Gemini warned playfully, leaning closer so their shoulders brushed. “You start saying stuff like that, and I might take you literally.”

Fourth’s laugh was low, warm. “Then maybe you should.”

Fourth sank to the edge of the platform, legs dangling over the drop where trains once roared, and leaned back on his hands. Gemini plopped down beside him, close enough that their knees brushed.

Dragons curled into loops above their heads, stars rearranged themselves into constellations that seemed to wink when Fourth caught them glancing back. He felt dizzy from how alive everything was, from the warmth radiating from Gemini’s side.

“This… I could sit here forever,” Fourth murmured, voice low. He tilted his head, studying a star pattern that shifted slowly into the shape of a heart. “It’s like… stargazing, but without the cold and the bugs.”

Gemini chuckled softly, elbow nudging him. “Stargazing, huh? Careful, that’s dangerously romantic.”

Fourth rolled his eyes, though the blush creeping across his cheeks betrayed him. “I’m just… appreciating the view.”

“And here I thought you were appreciating me,” Gemini teased, leaning slightly closer. Fourth felt the faint brush of his shoulder against his own.

“Maybe both,” Fourth admitted, and his grin was soft, private.

Gemini smirked, eyes catching the pulsing lights. “You’re smooth. I should be wary.”

“Or grateful,” Fourth shot back, nudging him gently.

They fell silent again, letting the mural move and shift around them. Dragons became galaxies, stars formed impossible patterns, and Fourth felt like they were the only two people in the world, floating beneath a neon sky crafted just for them.

“Don’t you ever get tired of hiding all these places?” Fourth asked after a long moment, voice almost a whisper.

Gemini shrugged, lips tugged into that half-smile Fourth loved. “Wouldn’t be fun if everyone knew. Some things are better just for us.”

Fourth leaned back, letting his head rest just above Gemini’s shoulder. “I like being part of your secret then,” he said softly.

“You will always be a part of mine,” Gemini replied, barely audible, but Fourth heard it clearly.

Fourth shifted slightly, resting his head fully against Gemini’s shoulder. Gemini wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close enough that Fourth could feel the steady warmth of his chest.

For a long while, they just stayed like that—cuddled in silence, letting the world pulse around them. Fourth let out a soft sigh, eyes half-closed. “I could stay like this forever,” he murmured.

Gemini’s lips brushed the top of his head. “Yeah...”

After a few heartbeats, Gemini shifted slightly, enough to glance down at Fourth with that sly grin he always got when he was about to be mischievous. “I have a few more surprises for the rest of the evening,” he said, voice low and teasing.

Fourth tilted his head up, curiosity flickering across his face. “Oh? And what kind of surprise?”

Gemini’s grin widened. “I made a special reservation. Dinner. Just the two of us. Somewhere… you’ll like.”

Fourth blinked, a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. “Somewhere I’ll like… huh? And I’m guessing this isn’t just any regular restaurant?”

“Nope,” Gemini said, giving his side a gentle squeeze.

Fourth laughed softly, nuzzling against Gemini.

Gemini pressed a soft kiss to his temple. “Now… c’mon, Ter. We’ve got a dinner to sneak into.”

Fourth snorted, letting himself be pulled to his feet. “Lead the way,”

.

.

The waitress glided to their table, her movements almost weightless, and handed them menus printed in shimmering, shifting ink. Fourth’s eyes widened the instant he took one; every time he blinked, the letters and images on the pages twisted and changed. One moment it read lasagna with starlight sauce, the pasta glistening as if dusted with tiny stars. He blinked again, and the same spot showed pancakes stacked with clouds instead of whipped cream, each layer soft and ethereal, drifting slightly as if caught in a breeze. Another flicker revealed a steaming cup labeled coffee brewed from “yesterday morning”, its aroma curling from the page in tiny, ghostly tendrils that made Fourth’s stomach twist in curiosity.

“Order fast,” Gemini murmured, leaning close enough that Fourth felt the heat of his chest against his arm. His voice was low, teasing, brushing against Fourth’s ear like a whisper meant just for him. “If you blink too long, your choice might disappear.”

Fourth swallowed, his pulse quickening—from the dizzying menu, and from the thrill of Gemini so close. He squinted, trying to make sense of the wriggling letters, tracing each dish with a fingertip that tingled as the ink seemed to react to his touch. “I—uh… I think I’ll try… Memory Pie?” he said finally, pointing to a selection that radiated warmth and the faintest whiff of cinnamon. The scent tugged at a distant memory he hadn’t realized he missed.

“Memory Pie,” Gemini repeated, a slow grin spreading across his face as he reached over to brush a stray lock of hair from Fourth’s forehead. “Bold choice. Let’s see if it lives up to its name.”

When the dish arrived, the pie glimmered under the soft light, crust golden and dusted with flecks that seemed to flicker like tiny embers. Fourth hesitated a moment before cutting a slice, the knife sliding through the warm, fragrant filling with a satisfying ease. The first bite was electric—sweet and spicy in a way that made his chest tighten. His eyes softened, and a small, almost shy smile spread across his face.

“It… it tastes like my mother’s cooking,” he murmured, voice low. “I haven’t had anything like this since I left for collage.”

Gemini leaned closer across the table, his grin widening, fingers brushing lightly against Fourth’s as if by accident. “Told you I had a few tricks up my sleeve.”

Fourth’s heart fluttered, and he leaned back slightly, letting Gemini’s hand linger on his own a heartbeat longer than necessary. “You always do,” he said softly, a teasing edge to his voice. “Everything’s… better when you’re involved.”

“Better, huh?” Gemini tilted his head, dark eyes glittering with amusement. “I’ll have to remember that. Borrow it from you, maybe.”

Fourth laughed, leaning closer, letting their shoulders brush. “Go ahead,” he whispered, letting his fingers brush against Gemini’s under the table. “Just… don’t give it away to anyone else.”

Gemini’s eyes darkened with a sly glint as he laced their fingers together. “Deal,” he said, pressing a thumb to Fourth’s knuckles. “But I’m keeping it for myself first.”

The Memory Pie melted slowly on Fourth’s tongue, each bite bringing a warmth. Laughter spilled softly between them as the menu flickered and danced in response, letters twisting like little sparks of magic that mirrored their shared smiles.

Fourth finally leaned back, satisfied and smiling, letting Gemini’s thumb trace idle patterns over his hand. “Ready for the next secret spot?” Gemini asked, voice teasing yet gentle.

Fourth’s grin was lazy, affectionate, full of trust. “Lead the way,” he said, eyes glinting. “But we hold hands the whole time.”

Gemini didn’t hesitate. Their fingers intertwined as naturally as breathing. “Deal,” he said, smiling down at Fourth with a mix of mischief and affection that made Fourth’s heart do a little flip.

.

.

Gemini had his hand in Fourth’s as they stepped onto a narrow cobblestone street, the evening air warm but tinged with something magical, like the city itself was holding its breath. The lamps lining the street glimmered with a soft, golden glow, though the sky above remained the same deep indigo, streaked with impossible stars that seemed to wink at them knowingly.

“This way,” Gemini said, tugging lightly, a grin tugging at his lips. Fourth stumbled a little, laughing, and Gemini caught him, pressing him close for a heartbeat longer than necessary. “Careful,” Gemini teased, voice low. “You’re in my world now.”

As they began walking, Fourth noticed the shops along the street repeating in a strange, almost hypnotic loop. First a small, cozy bookstore, stacks of books spilling out into the street; then a record shop, vinyls glinting under the lamplight; a bakery with the faintest scent of warm bread and honey. And then… the bookstore again. The same stacks, the same crooked sign.

“Wait…” Fourth stopped, pointing. “Did we just—did we pass this bookstore already?”

Gemini laughed softly, brushing a hand along Fourth’s back. “Maybe. Or maybe it just wanted to see us again.” His fingers lingered at the small of Fourth’s back, sending a shiver up his spine. “Don’t worry about it. The street has a mind of its own.”

They walked on, the shops repeating again and again, a loop that felt endless yet strangely comforting. The street seemed to stretch forever, yet every time Fourth looked at Gemini, his world felt small, concentrated, perfect.

Fourth leaned against Gemini, shoulders brushing, eyes tracing the repeating storefronts. “So… we’re stuck here forever?” he asked, half teasing, half curious.

“Stuck? Nah,” Gemini murmured, tilting his head so their foreheads almost touched. “We’re just… exploring the infinite. And I can’t think of anyone I’d rather get lost with.”

Fourth’s chest tightened pleasantly. He leaned into Gemini, letting the warmth and the playful mischief of his companion wrap around him. “Good. Because I like this street. Endless bookstores, infinite music, and apparently… infinite bakeries.”

Gemini chuckled, tilting his head to press a soft kiss to Fourth’s temple. “Infinite everything. And I get to hold your hand the whole time,” he said, squeezing gently.

.

.

The sun had dipped low by the time they finally left the never-ending street, painting the city in a warm golden haze. Gemini held Fourth’s hand a little tighter as they navigated back through familiar streets, the glow from the sunset reflecting in Fourth’s eyes.

By the time they reached Gemini’s apartment, both were tired, but their energy buzzed in a way only surreal adventures could create. Gemini fumbled with his keys, grinning as he finally unlocked the door.

“Home sweet home,” Gemini said, shrugging off his jacket and collapsing onto the couch. Fourth followed, sliding in beside him, letting out a contented sigh.

“I can’t believe you found all those places,” Fourth murmured, eyes tracing the ceiling as if it might show hints of the day’s magic.

Gemini laughed, flopping back and resting his head on Fourth’s shoulder. “Well, someone has to make sure you don’t miss the fun. Plus…” He nudged Fourth playfully. “…it’s kinda nice having a partner in crime.”

Fourth pressed a gentle kiss to Gemini’s temple, smiling against the warmth of his skin. “Partner in crime… yeah. I like that.”

They settled into a comfortable silence, the city humming softly outside the windows. Fourth let his mind wander, replaying each impossible place, each strange sensation, each laugh and glance. Somewhere deep down, he felt a thrill—knowing that these spots, these glitches, existed just for them.

Gemini shifted closer, wrapping an arm around Fourth, muttering sleepily, “You know… we could come back tomorrow, find another one.”

Fourth chuckled quietly, resting his head against Gemini’s. “I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

Fourth tilted his head up, eyes catching the last golden streaks of sunlight filtering through the window. Gemini’s gaze met his, warm and steady, and for a moment the quiet apartment seemed to shrink until it was just the two of them.

Without thinking too much, Fourth leaned in, brushing his lips against Gemini’s in a soft, lingering kiss. A teasing press that made Gemini hum softly and shift a little closer, their foreheads touching as Fourth pulled back just slightly, smiling. A heated gleam spreading across his features, and the space between them seemed to vanish entirely.

Their lips met again, fully, deeply, with a shiver of urgency and laughter tangled in the press of breath. Gemini responded immediately, one hand sliding to the back of Fourth’s neck, fingers threading into his hair, while the other wrapped around his waist, drawing him impossibly close.

Fourth’s hands found Gemini’s shoulders, gripping just enough to pull him even nearer, to feel the steady, thrilling pulse of him. The apartment faded around them—the golden sunlight, the hum of the city, even the couch beneath them—everything reduced to the taste, the warmth, and the quiet roar of being exactly where they wanted to be.

Fourth’s lips lingered near Gemini’s again, brushing and tracing, tentative at first but growing bolder, pressing along the curve of Gemini’s mouth. Gemini shivered under the touch, letting out a soft hum that rumbled low in his chest.

Fourth’s hands slid down from Gemini’s shoulders to his chest, feeling the steady beat beneath his fingertips. Gemini’s hands tightened slightly at Fourth’s waist, pulling him closer, the playful teasing in his eyes now matched by something sharper, more heated.

“I… I love you,” Gemini blurted, voice breaking slightly.

Gemini’s hands gripped Fourth’s shoulders, his lips barely leaving Fourth’s as he whispered again, urgent and breathless. “I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Fourth blinked, caught in the rhythm of Gemini’s confession, his heart hammering. “Gem… you’ve said that—”

“I know, I know, but I can’t stop saying it!” Gemini cut him off, pressing closer, forehead to forehead. “I love you. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you like I’ve never loved anyone. You’re everything, Fourth, everything.”

Fourth’s chest rose and fell with disbelief and laughter, soft and shaky. “Gem, you’re… you’re kind of obsessive aren’t you.”

“Obsessive? Maybe,” Gemini breathed, his lips brushing Fourth’s ear, leaving tiny heated trails. “But it’s the best obsession in the world. I love you. I love you. I love you.”

Fourth reached up, threading his fingers into Gemini’s hair, holding him close. “You’re crazy,” he said softly, smiling despite himself.

“Crazy for you,” Gemini replied instantly, eyes dark and serious, glimmering with desperation. “I’m in love with you, Fourth Nattawat. I can’t—can’t stop. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you…” His voice became a soft, relentless chant, full of need and adoration, as if saying it over and over could somehow prove it, could somehow keep the world from letting Fourth slip away.

Fourth leaned in, capturing Gemini’s lips in a long, deep kiss, trying to convey all the warmth, the shock, and the reciprocation of Gemini’s frantic, endless love. And Gemini, trembling, melted into it, repeating the words against Fourth’s mouth, whispering them into every kiss.

Gemini’s hands gripped Fourth’s face gently, his thumb brushing over his cheek as his voice cracked with raw emotion. “Please… please don’t ever leave me,” he whispered, eyes shining with panic and need. “I’m so scared, Fourth… scared of losing you. You can’t go anywhere. You can’t—stay with me. Always. Promise me you’ll never leave.”

Fourth’s chest tightened, touched by the intensity of Gemini’s desperation. He cupped Gemini’s face in his hands, feeling the tremor in his lips, the unsteady pulse in his throat. “Gem… I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice soft but firm. “I’m here. With you. Always.”

Gemini’s lips trembled as he pressed himself closer, forehead resting against Fourth’s. “I can’t… I can’t even imagine life without you. You’re everything. Please… stay with me. Don’t ever let me be without you.”

Fourth kissed him then, slow and tender, letting Gemini feel the certainty of his words in every movement. “I’m not going anywhere,” he repeated, letting Gemini’s hands hold him, cling to him, as if letting go was impossible. “I’m yours. Always.”

Gemini shivered against him, burying his face in Fourth’s neck, murmuring over and over between kisses, “I love you. I love you. I love you…”

Gemini pressed himself against Fourth, lips moving over his jaw, his neck, the curve of his collarbone, each kiss desperate, hungry, and full of emotion. His hands roamed, tangling in Fourth’s hair, tracing the line of his shoulders, never letting him pull away. Every time Fourth tried to speak, Gemini silenced him with another soft, urgent press of his mouth, murmuring between kisses, “I love you… I love you…”

Fourth’s hands slid over Gemini’s back, pulling him closer, letting the intensity wash over both of them.

Gemini’s hands trembled slightly, but only from urgency and longing as he brushed Fourth’s hair back from his face. He leaned in, whispering softly between kisses, “Just you and me… I want all of you.” Slowly, reverently, he helped Fourth slide off his shirt, fingers tracing the warmth of his skin. Fourth shivered but didn’t resist, letting Gemini guide him, their breaths mingling in the close space between them.

Gemini mirrored him, peeling his own clothes away with equal care, his eyes never leaving Fourth’s. Every movement was gentle, deliberate, a mix of desire and adoration. The apartment seemed to shrink around them, leaving only the two of them in a cocoon of heat, touch, and the unspoken promises carried in each lingering kiss and every brush of fingers over bare skin.

Gemini’s lips never left Fourth’s as he guided him toward the bedroom, trailing soft, urgent kisses from his jaw to his neck, down his shoulders, and along his arms. Fourth’s hands tangled in Gemini’s hair, holding him close as their bodies pressed together, warmth mingling.

Every step to the bedroom was punctuated by small, needy kisses—on ears, collarbones, the curve of his shoulders—each one claiming Fourth in quiet desperation. Gemini whispered Fourth’s name between kisses, voice thick with want and something softer, deeper, almost pleading.

Fourth’s back hit the edge of the bed first, and the moment the mattress swallowed them, Gemini was already on him, their bodies pressing together in an urgent, heated tangle.

Chapter Text

Gemini’s lips roamed with tenderness and insistence—trailing from Fourth’s jawline to the sensitive skin at the base of his throat, teasing and nipping, leaving a delicate trail of warmth.

Even as he pressed slow, lingering kisses to Fourth’s lips, Gemini’s voice trembled with urgency. “I love you,” he whispered again, pulling back just enough to look into Fourth’s eyes. “I love you so much it hurts. I can’t stop thinking about you, about every little part of you. You’re everything to me.”

His hands were everywhere, over sides, brushing along ribs, tracing the curves of Fourth’s body as if memorizing him. Gemini’s kisses deepened, teeth occasionally grazing the soft skin of Fourth’s shoulder or the nape of his neck, eliciting gasps and shivers that only encouraged him further.

Fourth’s arms wrapped around Gemini instinctively, pulling him closer, feeling the heat radiating from his skin. Gemini shifted slightly, letting his lips wander lower, over collarbones, across chest, pausing to suck gently at sensitive spots that made Fourth arch into him. The mattress creaked beneath them, a soft rhythm to their shared breaths, heartbeats quickening in tandem.

“God… I can’t get enough of you,” Gemini murmured against his skin, voice husky and full of longing.

Gemini’s lips lingered on Fourth’s collarbone, trailing soft, deliberate kisses down his chest. His fingers, light and teasing, found Fourth’s nipples, circling them slowly, grazing with just enough pressure to make Fourth gasp and arch instinctively. Fourth’s hands went to Gemini’s shoulders, tugging him closer as heat pooled low in his stomach, a shiver running along his spine.

Gemini grinned, feeling Fourth’s reaction beneath his fingertips. He leaned in, brushing his lips over the sensitive skin again, alternating between soft kisses and teasing nips, making Fourth’s breath hitch. “…hmmm responsive,” Gemini murmured against his skin, voice husky, teasing, a playful edge underlying the raw need in his tone. “You like that, don’t you?”

Gemini’s lips trailed lower over Fourth’s chest, brushing softly across the smooth skin until they hovered over his nipples. He let his tongue flick lightly, teasing, tracing delicate circles, eliciting a sharp, involuntary gasp from Fourth. His lips followed, sucking gently, nipping just enough to make Fourth shiver and arch instinctively.

Fourth’s hands tangled in Gemini’s hair, pulling him closer, breath hitching in ragged gasps. “G-Gem…,” he breathed, voice trembling with a mixture of surprise and want.

Gemini hummed against him, low and teasing, licking and sucking in a slow, deliberate rhythm that made Fourth’s chest rise and fall unevenly. Each flick of his tongue, each press of his lips sent shivers down Fourth’s spine, leaving a trail of warmth and need in its wake. Gemini’s teeth grazed lightly at sensitive edges, and the small, involuntary noises Fourth made only encouraged him more.

“God… you smell insane,” Gemini murmured between kisses, voice husky, almost worshipful.

Gemini continued his slow descent, lips and tongue tracing a heated path across Fourth’s stomach, teasing over the slight dip of his abdomen, and finally reaching the navel. He circled it with a soft, wet flick of his tongue, sending a sharp gasp through Fourth, who trembled under the combination of sensation and anticipation. Every deliberate, teasing movement of Gemini’s mouth made Fourth writhe, moaning softly, caught between pleasure, need, and the magnetic pull of Gemini’s obsession.

Gemini’s lips traced lower and lower, deliberate path down Fourth’s happy line, leaving a trail of saliva in their wake. Every brush of his mouth against Fourth’s skin sent tiny shivers racing through him. He lingered at each sensitive spot along the way, letting his lips press, nuzzle, and occasionally nip just enough to keep Fourth’s breaths ragged and uneven.

When he reached Fourth’s entrance, Gemini paused briefly, letting his gaze meet Fourth’s, dark and glimmering with desire. Without breaking contact, he shifted slightly, lifting Fourth’s legs and draping them over his shoulder. Fourth gasped, arching into the movement, body taut and shivering with need.

Gemini shifted slightly, lowering his face to nuzzle against the smooth skin of Fourth’s ass. His lips pressed soft, warm kisses along the taut, trembling flesh, and his nose and cheek brushed gently as he hummed low, a vibration that made Fourth shiver uncontrollably.

Then, with a soft, teasing hum, his lips closed over Fourth’s rim. His tongue flicked lightly at first, circling the delicate, sensitive skin, tracing patterns that made Fourth catch his breath sharply, fingers curling into Gemini’s hair as his body reacted instinctively.

Gemini’s movements grew bolder, pressing slightly, brushing along the edges of Fourth’s entrance, teasing every nerve ending he could reach. Fourth’s back arched, hips tilting upward, a low moan escaping him as his body trembled with the sudden, delicious awareness of Gemini’s touch. Each flick of Gemini’s tongue, each deliberate, heated motion of his mouth drew Fourth further into a haze of sensation, leaving him shivering, gasping, completely captivated and helpless under Gemini’s teasing, relentless devotion.

Gemini hummed low, vibrating against Fourth’s skin, lips and tongue working together to tease and claim. He alternated between slow, languid strokes and quick, teasing flicks, circling and brushing along the surrounding skin, making Fourth’s thighs to flex, pressing closer without even realizing it.

Sparks of heat and desire course through Fourth, building impossibly higher. His hands clutched at Gemini, pulling him closer, breath coming in ragged gasps as the tension coiled tighter and tighter inside him.

“G-Gem…” Fourth gasped, voice breaking, lips parting in a shuddering moan. Gemini’s teasing, worshipful attention pushed him further, and suddenly, like a spark igniting a storm, pleasure erupted from deep within him. His back arched, hips jerking instinctively as a wave of heat and sensation tore through every nerve ending.

Gemini’s lips never left him, following, coaxing, prolonging the sensation, letting Fourth ride out the waves of pleasure while keeping him tethered close.

Then, with a sharp intake of breath and a shudder that ran from his spine to his toes, pleasure erupted in Fourth, he spilled ribbons of cum on to his stomach. His back arched instinctively, hips jerking slightly, chest heaving as wave after wave of heat and sensation tore through him. Moans spilled uncontrollably, his body trembling and quivering under the intensity.

Gemini raised his head and watched, eyes dark with desire, a slow, satisfied smile curving his lips. Seeing Fourth so utterly consumed, so vulnerable and helpless under his touch, made his pulse quicken. The sight—the shivers, the gasps, the raw abandon—drove him wild with need, and a low, husky hum escaped him.

Gemini leaned closer, letting his lips hover near Fourth’s stomach as he traced the path of spilled cum with his tongue. The warm brush of his tongue, made Fourth shiver and catch his breath.

Fourth’s eyes followed him, heat and anticipation mingling in his gaze. Gemini nuzzled and pressed light kisses along the trail, lingering over every curve, every sensitive patch of skin, making Fourth’s chest rise and fall unevenly.

Gemini’s eyes flicked up at him with a dark, burning intensity, savoring the way Fourth responded, every gasp, shiver, and soft laugh only heightening the tension between them.

Gemini paused for just a moment, lifting his head slightly to show Fourth the dab of cum collected on his tongue, a mischievous, teasing glint in his eyes. Fourth’s gaze locked onto him, heat and anticipation flickering across his expression, breath hitching slightly.

Gemini let the tip of his tongue glisten with the cum, slowly tracing it over his lips, savoring the playful tension. He held Fourth’s gaze, letting the moment stretch, teasing him silently with the promise of closeness and warmth. Then, with a deliberate, slow movement, he pressed his lips to Fourth’s, soft and lingering, the taste of salty tang mingling with the intimacy of the kiss.

Fourth shivered, a ragged gasp escaping him as his hands tangled in Gemini’s hair, pulling him closer. Every press of Gemini’s lips, every teasing hum and deliberate brush of his mouth over Fourth’s skin, sent shivers of anticipation and warmth through him.

Then Gemini slowly guided his length to Fourth’s entrance. He watches himself and sinks in, inch by inch, into Fourth,  until he bottoms out.

Their bodies pressed flush, heat radiating from every point of contact. Gemini gives a test roll to his hips slowly against Fourth’s, unhurried, teasing. Fourth gasped, a soft, breathy moan escaping.

“Ah… Gem… mm…” Fourth whimpered, hands clutching at Gemini’s shoulders, unable to stop the instinctive movement of his hips.

Gemini tilted his head, lips brushing along Fourth’s jaw as he matched the rhythm, rolling back, then forward, driving shivers and low moans from Fourth. “Feels… so good,” Gemini murmured, voice rough, vibrating against his skin.

Fourth’s fingers tangled in Gemini’s hair, pulling him closer, letting out a shuddering gasp. “Fuck…” His hips pressed insistently, rolling with Gemini’s, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through them both.

Gemini’s hands traced along Fourth’s back and sides, holding him close, tilting their bodies just enough to increase the friction. Low groans and breathy whimpers filled the space, broken only by desperate kisses as their lips met in hurried, heated presses.

“Ah… Gem… please… faster…” Fourth whimpered, fingers clutching at Gemini’s shoulders, hips pressing insistently, begging for more. His voice was breathless, broken, trembling with need.

Gemini tilted his head, lips brushing Fourth’s jaw, teeth grazing lightly, eyes dark and amused. “No,” he murmured, voice low, slow, deliberate, dragging out each word like a taunt. “I am making love to you tonight…”

Fourth arched, shivering violently, soft moans spilling uncontrollably. “N-no… Gem … mm… please!” His hips rolled on their own, desperate, craving more friction, more release.

Gemini’s hands pressed along Fourth’s back and sides, holding him flush, controlling the rhythm entirely. He leaned close, lips grazing Fourth’s ear, whispering “I love yous” in that low, teasing tone that made his heart hammer.

Fourth let out a frustrated, breathy whine, pressing into Gemini’s hold, trembling in need, toes curling, knees weak. “Ah… Gem… I… I’m cant… mm… please…”

Gemini didn’t relent. Every slow, tantalizing roll of his hips drove Fourth further insane, body quivering, moans broken and desperate, mind fogged with need. He was suspended on the edge, every nerve alive, every gasp, every whimper pulled tighter by Gemini’s deliberate refusal to quicken the pace.

Fourth’s hands clawed at Gemini’s shoulders, nails grazing skin as his hips pressed harder, trying to force the pace.

Gemini’s lips brushed along Fourth’s nipple, teeth grazing lightly, his dark eyes locked on him with that teasing intensity.

Fourth’s back arched violently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from him, body trembling. “Ah… Gem… I… I’m going insane… please… nghmm… just a little faster…” His hips moved on their own, seeking more friction, more release, entirely beyond his control.

Gemini’s hands pressed possessively along Fourth’s sides, holding him perfectly in place. Every tiny, torturous roll of his hips drove Fourth further into delirium, teasing him so slowly that even his frantic movements couldn’t satisfy the fire burning through him.

Fourth shivered violently, hips rolling desperately against him, body strung taut with need, moans breaking into ragged, pleading gasps.

Fourth’s body tensed impossibly, a shudder racing through him from toes to head. His hips jerked against Gemini’s with frantic force, nails digging into shoulders, breath ripping out in ragged gasps.

Fourth’s body tensed impossibly, a shudder racing through him from toes to head. His hips jerked against Gemini’s with frantic force, nails digging into shoulders, breath ripping out in ragged gasps.

Gemini rolled his hips slowly, teasingly, letting the tremors of Fourth’s release wash over them both. He murmured low, possessive sounds, lips brushing Fourth’s jaw, guiding, grounding him as his whole body quivered, gasping and whimpering uncontrollably.

Fourth’s cries broke into ragged, breathy moans, hips pressing hard against Gemini, toes curling, knees trembling. His mind spun, lost entirely to the raw, violent ecstasy consuming him, every nerve screaming, every sense alive.

Fourth sagged against Gemini, trembling, chest heaving, body still quivering from the violent release that had left him breathless. But even as Fourth’s moans tapered into ragged whimpers, Gemini’s own body was strung tight, heat coiling relentlessly.

A low, guttural groan ripped from Gemini’s chest, vibrating through Fourth as he leaned closer, pressing every inch of himself flush against him. Fingers dug into Fourth’s sides, gripping possessively as his hips began to move, slow at first, teasing, but the tension was too much—Gemini’s own control fraying.

“Oh… ah… Fourth…” Gemini’s voice was rough, ragged, thick with need, every word punctuated by a deep, breathy moan. His lips found Fourth’s jaw, teeth grazing lightly as his own body shivered in response to the friction, the closeness, the scent of Fourth surrounding him.

Fourth gasped, instinctively pressing into him, hips tilting as if sensing Gemini’s own rising release. “G-Gem… mm…!” His voice broke into a high, pleading whine, fingers tangled in Gemini’s hair, guiding him closer, feeling the heat and tension coiling tighter between them.

Gemini’s body tensed, shivering violently as a wave of release crashed through him, deep, overwhelming, leaving him trembling and gasping. He pressed Fourth impossibly close, hips locking, lips brushing over his jaw in soft, possessive murmurs as he spilled into him.

Fourth’s fingers dug into Gemini’s shoulders, pressing closer instinctively, moans mingling as both of them sagged together, breathless, spent, hearts racing, bodies slick with heat.

Gemini pulls out, watching cum slowly oozed from Fourth’s entrance. He traced its path with an almost mesmerized intensity, the way the cum pooled at the entrance and slid down Fourth’s inner thigh seemed to tease him, teasing him to reach out, taste, and savor it, the anticipation making his breath hitch slightly.

The sight was indulgent, intimate, and utterly consuming, holding him captive in the slow, delicious rhythm of desire.

Fourth groaned, leaning back on the pillow, a playful scowl tugging at his lips. “Gemm… you really should have worn a condom.”

Gemini’s ears flushed pink, guilt flickering in his eyes. “I… I didn’t think—”

Fourth sighed, but there was no real anger in his tone. He shook his head, letting out a dramatic groan. “Now I’m stuck cleaning up for hours. This is all your fault.”

Gemini winced, biting his lip. “I didn’t mean to make things… messy.”

Fourth rolled his eyes but couldn’t help the small, fond smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Help me clean up, and we’ll call it even.”

Gemini grinned sheepishly, hopping up to grab a towel, then stopping. He paused.

Gemini reached out, pressed his fingers into the Fourth’s entrance, letting the cum yield under his touch.

“That’s not—” Fourth started.

He nudged it, coaxing the thick, cum to spill over, letting it slide slowly down Fourth’s cheeks. The cum continued to ooze out in slow, glistening rivulets, slipping out of Fourth’s entrance.

Gemini’s eyes darkened as he followed its path, tracing it with an intensity that made every inch of Fourth’s skin seem electrified under his gaze.

Gemini’s fingers trembled slightly as he held the warm cum, the scent and sight consuming his thoughts. Every nerve in him screamed to taste it, to let the sweetness and warmth mingle with his own senses. Against reason, against any hesitation, he brought it closer to his lips.

“Gross!” Fourth’s hand shot out, slapping Gemini’s fingers sharply. The cum splattered across the surface, a sticky smear where it had almost met his lips. Gemini blinked, momentarily stunned, before a grin tugged at his mouth.  Fourth’s face flushed, a mixture of embarrassment and exasperation, while Gemini shook with laughter.

Gemini collapsed against him. His head rested against Fourth’s chest, small bursts of laughter mingling with soft, relieved sighs. Fourth’s arms wrapped around him automatically, holding him with an affectionate firmness, letting him nestle into the familiar comfort.

Gemini lifted his head slightly, eyes glistening as he searched Fourth’s face. “I… I love you,” he murmured again.

Fourth tightened his hold instinctively, pressing a gentle kiss to Gemini’s hair. “I’ve got you, Gem. Always.” he whispered, voice steady and warm.

Gemini’s lips found Fourth’s again, a desperate, fervent kiss that carried all the longing and relief he’d been holding back. “I mean it,” he murmured between kisses. “I love you over and over, Fourth Nattawat. You’re… everything.”

Fourth smiled softly, running a hand through Gemini’s hair, letting the words wash over him as he held him close. “I know,” he said. “And I love you too. More than you can imagine.”

Gemini nuzzled closer, pressing soft, lingering kisses along Fourth’s collarbone and shoulder, each one a promise, each one a confession. “I’m so in love with you… I don’t even know how to stop saying it,” he breathed. “Just… stay with me.”

Fourth’s arms tightened around him, holding him like he belonged there entirely. “I’m right here, Gem. Always.”

Gemini finally relaxed completely against Fourth, his breathing slowing as he rested his head on Fourth’s chest. Fourth’s arms remained wrapped around him, fingers tracing gentle patterns across his back.

“I love you,” Gemini murmured one last time, soft and sleepy, almost swallowed by the quiet of the room.

“I know,” Fourth replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Gemini’s head. “And I love you too.”

The two of them settled into the warmth of each other’s presence.

.

.

The next morning, Fourth’s eyes fluttered open—and the world around him was swallowed by an endless, suffocating black.

Absolute, endless black. The familiar outlines of Gemini, the couch, the apartment—gone. Nothing but darkness stretched in every direction, infinite and suffocating.

Everything around him was swallowed by complete stretching infinitely in every direction.

Chapter Text

Fourth’s eyes fluttered open. At first, he thought he was still half-asleep, that the world outside was just dim morning light. But as he blinked again, a sinking realization hit him, everything was black. Absolute, endless black. The familiar outlines of Gemini, the couch, the apartment—gone. Nothing but darkness stretched in every direction, infinite and suffocating.

A shiver ran down his spine, and his heartbeat quickened. “Gem…?” His voice cracked, swallowed immediately by the void. No reply. No sound.

He tried to move, to sit up, but there was nothing beneath him—not floor, not mattress, not even air to push against. His limbs felt heavy and unreal, like he was drifting in some strange, formless ocean.

Panic bubbled in his chest. Fourth called again, louder this time, “Gemini! Where are you?!”

Still nothing. Only black. Only silence.

Then, from somewhere deep within the darkness, a faint whisper seemed to echo around him, brushing against the edges of his mind.

Fourth’s stomach churned. He clenched his fists, trying to will himself forward, to find the edges of this emptiness.

Fourth froze. The whisper had vanished, replaced now by something softer, rawer—someone crying. The sound was fragile, like glass splintering in the dark, and it tugged at something deep inside him. It wasn’t just sadness, it was grief so intense it almost felt contagious, weighing on his chest with every breath.

He turned toward it instinctively, though there was no ground to walk on, no sense of direction. Still, his feet moved, carrying him through the void as if it allowed passage only because of that sound. Each step drew him closer, the sobs growing clearer, sharper, until he could almost taste the salt of them in the air.

Up ahead, a faint shimmer appeared—a dim light, flickering like a candle about to die. Fourth’s heart lurched. The darkness seemed endless, but that glow cut through it, fragile and small. He pushed forward, his pulse racing, every nerve in his body urging him not to stop.

The crying grew louder now, threaded with something familiar, though he couldn’t quite place it. Fourth swallowed hard, his throat dry. “...Hello?” he whispered, voice barely steady, as he reached toward the fragile light.

Fourth’s breath hitched as he stepped closer. The dim light grew sharper, spilling over a glass box that seemed to materialize out of the void. Inside, hunched over and trembling, was a person—hands moving in frantic, jerky strokes across paper. The scratching of their pen mixed with the raw, broken sobs that wracked their body.

They were writing desperately, as if the act itself was the only thing keeping them alive, every word clawed out between gasps of grief. Pages scattered around their knees, ink smeared with tears, piling against the walls of the box.

Fourth pressed closer, straining to see, but no matter how hard he tried, the face of the figure blurred, as if the darkness itself was guarding it. His vision wavered—sometimes catching the curve of a cheek, sometimes only shadow. It was like something was deliberately preventing him from knowing who sat trapped inside.

The person didn’t look up, didn’t seem to notice him. They just kept writing, pen scratching faster, their sobs breaking into silent screams. The sound clawed at Fourth’s chest, pulling him forward until his hands touched the cold surface of the glass.

“Hey…” His voice cracked. “Hey, can you hear me?”

But the figure didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause.

Fourth pressed his palm to the cold surface, knocking lightly at first. “Hey… can you hear me?” His voice sounded small against the void, but the figure kept scribbling furiously, tears splattering the page.

Fourth lifted a trembling hand and tapped the glass, the sound echoing too loud in the suffocating void. The figure froze. The pen slipped from their fingers, clattering against the paper-strewn floor. Slowly, their head snapped toward him, movements sharp and unnatural.

Fourth’s breath caught in his throat. He tried to make out their face, but the shadows twisted tighter, smearing the features into something unreadable. And then—

Bam.

His eyes flew open. He was back in Gemini’s bed, heart pounding, chest heaving like he’d been running. The room was still, bathed in the faint gray light of early morning. Gemini lay curled at his side, fast asleep, his breath soft and steady, one arm draped lazily across Fourth’s waist.

Gemini didn’t stir. He just slept, peaceful and unknowing, as if the darkness had never touched them at all.

For a long moment, Fourth lay still, his chest rising and falling too fast, staring at the faint cracks in the ceiling. The memory of the dream pressed down on him like a weight—too vivid, too sharp. Not like any dream he’d ever had before.

The crying still echoed in his ears, thin and glassy, as if it had been etched directly into his bones. He swore he could still feel the cold press of the glass beneath his hand.

Dreams didn’t feel like that. Dreams didn’t sting.

Fourth rubbed his face, trying to shake the heaviness, but his mind kept circling back, the endless void, the scattered pages, the figure trapped inside. Writing until their hands shook. Crying like the world had already ended.

And the way the shadows had refused to let him see their face.

He swallowed hard, throat dry. Was it just his brain throwing back all the things Gemini had told him about the glitches, about the author? Or… had he actually seen something?

Fourth turned his head toward Gemini, curled up beside him, sleeping soundly. His chest rose and fell, steady, grounding. For a moment, Fourth just watched him, clinging to the proof that at least this—this warmth—was real.

Fourth’s eyes flicked to the clock. Too late to linger in thought for long—class was waiting, and he couldn’t afford to be late.

He leaned over, brushing a soft kiss across Gemini’s forehead, careful not to disturb him. “I’ll be back soon,” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Gemini stirred slightly, mumbling something half-coherent in his sleep, and Fourth smiled softly. For a moment, the edges of the nightmare receded, replaced by the warmth of this quiet, tangible reality.

Slipping quietly out of bed, Fourth grabbed his things, moving with practiced efficiency. His mind still churned with the dream, the void, the figure.

.

.

Fourth trudged across campus, each step feeling heavy, like he was moving through water. The morning light felt muted, the chatter of students and the clatter of footsteps blending into a dull hum in his mind. His thoughts kept drifting back to the dream—the void, the crying figure, the glass—but he forced himself to focus, letting the familiar rhythm of the campus pull him along.

By the time lectures ended, he felt almost zombie-like, shuffling toward the cafeteria. Satang, Pond, and Phuwin were already gathered at their usual table, a tangle of laughter and half-eaten snacks.

“About time,” Phuwin called, grinning as Fourth slumped into the seat beside him. “You look like you’ve been through a war.”

Fourth managed a faint smile, nodding half-heartedly. “Yeah… something like that.”

Satang leaned forward, eyebrows raised. “You okay? You’ve been quiet all day.”

“I’m fine,” Fourth muttered, running a hand through his hair, though the weight of his thoughts made him feel anything but fine. He absently picked at the edge of his notebook, eyes distant.

Pond nudged him playfully. “Sure you’re fine? You look like a ghost.”

Fourth blinked, forcing a laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. “Just… tired, that’s all. Long night.”

Fourth slouched in his chair, rubbing his temples. Satang mirrored him across the table, both of them groaning in unison.

“Case notes for Legal History are brutal,” Fourth muttered, flipping through his notebook with a weary hand. “I don’t even know where to start half the time.”

Satang nodded, pen hovering over his own notebook. “Seriously, its torture.”

Pond, sprawled across the table with his engineering laptop open, laughed. “You two sound like babies. Legal stuff isn’t exactly my problem, but I’ve seen worse.”

Phuwin, busily scrolling through his business notes, added with a grin, “Yeah, you guys complain, but I have it worse. I’m stuck doing endless spreadsheets.”

By the time Mark and Gemini arrived, the cafeteria was buzzing with the mid-morning crowd. Mark slouched into the seat beside Phuwin, backpack slung carelessly over one shoulder. “Miss us already?” he teased.

Pond and Phuwin immediately erupted with playful swears. “Get outta here! We’re jealous you didn’t have to wake up at the crack of doom!”

Fourth chuckled and turned to Gemini,  who slid in next to Fourth.. “Wait… don’t you have a lecture now?”

Gemini’s grin faltered slightly. “Uh… yeah. We do.”

Satang groaned dramatically. “And you’re here because...?”

Gemini shrugged sheepishly, Mark giving a guilty laugh. “Well, priorities first, I guess. But technically, yeah—we should probably be running late right about now.”

“Priorities?!” Pond shouted, mock outrage coloring his voice. “The priority is surviving the early morning grind like the rest of us, not just showing up late and making us jealous!”

Phuwin jabbed Mark playfully. “You’re lucky you’re cute, otherwise we’d make you two carry everyone’s books for a week.”

Pond leaned back, waving a hand dramatically. “Honestly, you two should be ashamed. We are suffering in here—and you just waltz in here smiling like it’s a holiday!”

Mark raised an eyebrow, smirk twitching. “Oh, I think we can handle that. Right, Gemini?”

Gemini grinned lazily, leaning against Fourth. “We’ve got this covered… sort of.”

Fourth chuckled, shaking his head. Even with the swearing and complaints flying, the warmth of his friends made the exhaustion from assignments and the dream fade just a little.

Fourth watched Gemini quietly, the faint morning light glinting off his hair. Last night’s clingy confessions—“I love you,” “Don’t leave me”—still hung in the air, fragile and raw. Gemini looked almost smaller somehow, softer, as if the world had pressed too hard on him.

Fourth’s chest tightened. He remembered the suffocating black of the dream he’d had this morning—the endless void, the crying figure, the glass box—but he knew Gemini didn’t need that weight. Not now, not when he was still tender from last night’s emotional overflow.

He pressed his lips together, making a silent decision. He wouldn’t tell Gemini. Not yet. He wouldn’t add to his anxiety.

Instead, Fourth reached out, brushing a hand gently over Gemini’s knuckles, letting the warmth of his touch speak for him. Gemini glanced up, startled, then relaxed slightly, the softness in his eyes making Fourth’s heart clench.

“Feeling okay?” Fourth asked, his voice light but steady, hiding the storm of thoughts swirling in his own mind.

Gemini offered a small, tired smile, leaning closer. “Yeah… I’m fine,” he murmured, not knowing just how fiercely Fourth was guarding him from the shadows of his own morning.

“Wow, look at you two,” Phuwin said with a grin, nodding toward Fourth and Gemini.

Pond snorted, elbowing Satang.

Satang rolled his eyes, but Fourth felt a small smile tug at his lips. Gemini, flushed and shy, squeezed his hand without breaking eye contact, leaning slightly into his side.

Mark stated shaking his head dramatically. “Lovebirds! Did the two of you just invent a new law of physics with all this… clinginess?”

“Shut up,” Gemini mumbled, though his fingers didn’t let go. “We’re fine.”

“Fine?” Phuwin teased, pointing between them. “I think fine is an understatement.”

Gemini giggled softly into Fourth’s shoulder, and Fourth’s chest warmed.

Fourth pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Gemini’s hand, just enough to make him giggle again, and whispered, “Let them talk.”

Gemini leaned further into him, eyes sparkling with sleepy affection.

Phuwin leaned forward, grinning wickedly. “Alright, seriously, you two need to stop. Hands off each other for, say… five minutes? Can you survive?”

Pond snorted, waving a hand dramatically. “Yeah, I don’t think you realize how ridiculous this looks from the outside.”

Satang snickered, glancing at Win across the cafeteria. “Honestly, it’s entertaining. But man, Fourth, you’re practically glued to him. Let the poor guy breathe!”

Fourth tightened his grip on Gemini’s hand slightly, smiling under his breath. “I think he’s doing just fine,” he said, brushing a thumb across Gemini’s knuckles.

Gemini blushed, hiding his face in Fourth’s shoulder. “Stop it,” he whispered, though the soft giggle gave him away.

Mark leaned back in his chair, mock-sighing. “I give up. You two are hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. I declare a new law, All public displays of affection must include commentary from the audience.”

Phuwin and Pond laughed, exchanging exaggerated gestures of horror because they were just as worse.

Fourth pressed a quick kiss to Gemini’s temple, just enough to make him squeak.

Gemini peeked up at him, sleepy eyes bright and soft, and Fourth felt his chest swell. The teasing only made it sweeter—proof that no matter what the world or their friends thought, they had their own little orbit.

Fourth glanced at his watch, wincing. “Satang, we’ve got mooting in, remember?”

Satang groaned, shoving a hand through his hair. “Yeah… you’re right. Ugh, case notes are already killing me, and now this.”

Gemini’s head popped up from where it had been resting on Fourth’s shoulder. “Wait! Don’t leave me!” he whined, dragging his words out like syrup. His fingers clung stubbornly to Fourth’s sleeve.

Fourth chuckled softly, brushing a strand of hair from Gemini’s forehead. “I have to, Gem. Satang and I really can’t skip this one.”

“Nooo!” Gemini pouted, pressing his forehead against Fourth’s arm. “I just got you back! Why do you have to go?”

“Because mooting doesn’t take itself seriously if I don’t show up,” Fourth teased lightly, though his chest tightened at how clingy Gemini had gotten.

Phuwin snorted from across the table. “Look at him! You’d think Fourth was abandoning him on a desert island.”

Pond leaned back, shaking his head with a grin. “Honestly, the whiny factor is off the charts today.”

Gemini huffed, still clutching Fourth’s sleeve, but Fourth lifted a hand and pressed a quick, reassuring kiss to his temple. “I’ll be back as soon as we’re done. I promise. Don’t worry.”

Gemini groaned dramatically but finally let go, shoulders slumping in fake resignation. “Fine… but you better hurry back.”

Fourth smiled, fingers brushing Gemini’s before he pulled away. “Always do,” he murmured, then turned to Satang. “Let’s go.”

Satang groaned again, and together they left, Gemini’s soft, lingering whines following Fourth all the way out the cafeteria.

.

.

The walk back home was quiet at first, the early afternoon sun softening the edges of the city streets. Satang was grumbling under his breath, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Honestly, who even writes these memoranda? Half the points are just… fluff. I swear, the professor does this on purpose to make us suffer.”

Fourth nodded absently, his gaze fixed on the cracks in the pavement. His mind wasn’t on Satang’s complaints at all—it was still caught in the tendrils of the nightmare he’d had that morning. The endless black, the crying figure, the sense of being untethered… it clung to him, pressing against his chest with a weight that nothing in the real world seemed able to shake.

“Uh… Fourth? You even listening?” Satang’s voice broke through, a sharp nudge of reality.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah, I’m listening,” Fourth muttered, forcing a smile. His voice sounded hollow even to him.

Satang frowned. “You’re miles away.”

Fourth shook his head quickly. “No, nothing like that. Just… tired, I guess. Early start.”

He clenched his fists slightly, trying to ground himself in the mundane, the tactile—the cool metal of his watch, the weight of his bag, the uneven texture of the sidewalk under his shoes. It helped a little.

Satang continued his tirade, oblivious to Fourth’s internal struggle. “And another thing—the case notes! You literally have to summarize the summaries. It’s torture!”

Fourth smiled faintly, more out of habit than amusement. His mind drifted again, imagining the endless black, the whispering voice, the glass box… and a faint, stubborn hope that maybe it had all been some message, some puzzle meant for him alone.

As they reached Fourth’s apartment, Fourth glanced at Satang, a flicker of curiosity in his eyes. “Hey… uh, Satang,” he started cautiously, “what would you do if… if you found out you were a fictional character in a book?”

Satang froze mid-step, blinking at him as though he’d been hit with a strange jolt of electricity. “Wait… what? That’s… that’s a… a silly question,” he said, his tone uneven, almost suspicious. He glanced around, lowering his voice slightly, as if the hallway itself might be listening. “Why are you asking something like that?”

Fourth shrugged, trying to keep his face neutral, though his pulse quickened. “Just… wondering. Hypothetical. You know, if everything you thought was real… wasn’t?”

Satang rubbed the back of his neck, shifting awkwardly. “Well… I guess… I’d probably freak out? Maybe deny it at first, yell at whoever—uh, whoever wrote me… if that’s even possible. Then…” He paused, chewing over the thought, “I’d try to… do whatever I could to live my life the way I wanted. I mean, if someone else’s story controlled me, I’d want to take control of my own story, you know?”

Fourth’s eyes widened slightly, a mix of excitement and disbelief. “You’d… rebel? Even knowing there’s an author?”

Satang shrugged again, more earnestly this time. “No. Yeah. No. I’d… I don’t know. I’d try to make choices that felt… real. Even if they were written, I’d at least want them to feel like mine.”

Fourth felt a thrill ripple through him. Satang’s answer, even in jest or hypothetically, confirmed something Fourth had suspected, the capacity for thought, for will, for self… maybe wasn’t entirely confined to him alone.

He grinned, unable to hide it. “Wow… you’re braver than I thought.”

Satang gave a wry, half-smile. “Or maybe just gullible enough to entertain your crazy questions.”

Fourth laughed, heart lighter for a moment. “Okay… but what about— would you try to find out more about the story? Or the author?”

Satang’s eyebrows knit, a faint unease creeping into his expression. “No,” he said firmly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t. I mean… thinking about it too much sounds dangerous, right? Probably just stress you out, make you paranoid. Better to focus on what you can actually live, not what might be controlling you.”

Fourth tilted his head, studying him. “So… you’d just… go along with the story?”

Satang shrugged, a mixture of pragmatism and discomfort in his gesture. “Not exactly. I’d live my life, make it mine as much as I could. But digging for the author? Nah. Some things are better left unknown.”

Fourth nodded slowly, a small smile tugging at his lips. Satang’s caution made sense… and yet, part of him itched with the irresistible pull of curiosity.

Fourth paused at the edge of the sidewalk, backpack slung over his shoulder. “Alright, I’ll see you later, Satang,” he said, giving a small wave.

Satang groaned dramatically, adjusting his bag. “Yeah, yeah… I’ve got another fifteen-minute trek to the apartment. Lucky me,” he muttered, shaking his head.

“Try not to get lost,” Fourth teased, a grin tugging at his lips.

Satang gave him a mock glare, then started walking, hands stuffed into his pockets. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too full of yourself with that grin, Fourth.”

Chapter Text

After that day, Fourth found himself drawn back into the void more often in his dreams. Every time he closed his eyes, the endless black stretched before him—and always there was the boy. Curled up, trembling, his hands moving frantically across a book, pages scattered around him, ink smeared with tears.

Fourth couldn’t make out the boy’s face clearly, shadows and flickers of light kept it hidden. But strangely, he didn’t feel fear. Instead, there was a quiet, aching familiarity, as if he’d known this boy somewhere deep in his mind all along. His chest tightened at the sound of the boy’s raw, fragile sobs, tugging at something protective inside him.

He wanted to reach out, to touch the glass separating them, to whisper and ask, “Why are you so sad? What are you writing?” Every fiber of him yearned to connect, to understand the sorrow that seemed so absolute yet so intimate.

And yet, every time he tried to draw closer, every time he tapped on the invisible barrier or called softly, the dream would shift, the void pulling him awake before the boy could notice him fully. His heart would race in the waking world, echoing the longing he’d felt in the dream.

Fourth never hated these dreams. They left him unsettled, yes—but also strangely comforted. The boy’s sadness felt real, raw, and yet, there was something familiar in it that drew Fourth in, weaving a silent promise in his mind, he would find a way to reach him someday.

Because any attempt to call out to the boy would snap him awake, Fourth learned to be patient. He began sitting quietly outside the invisible glass box in his dreams, observing from a careful distance. The boy’s pen scratched feverishly across the pages, sometimes jerky and desperate, other times methodical and almost tender, as if each word carried the weight of the world.

Fourth watched, fascinated, as fragments of sentences formed and disappeared again—raw emotions bleeding through the ink, wishes, regrets, pleas he couldn’t quite understand. The boy’s sobs punctuated the writing, each gasp and hiccup threading pain and vulnerability into the story unfolding before Fourth’s eyes.

Sitting there, Fourth felt a strange intimacy with the boy. He didn’t speak, he didn’t try to intervene. He simply observed, memorizing the rhythm of the boy’s movements, the tremor in his hands, the fleeting glimpses of light reflecting off the scattered pages. There was a connection in silence, a shared understanding that transcended the boundaries of the dream.

Even though he couldn’t reach him yet, Fourth began to recognize patterns—the way the boy’s hand would pause after certain words, the subtle shifts in emotion that hinted at the thoughts behind the writing. He started to feel almost like a companion, a silent witness to the boy’s sorrow.

One night, as Fourth settled into his usual spot outside the glass box, he focused harder than ever on the boy’s writing. At first, the words were just smudges and fleeting scratches, elusive and impossible to decipher. But slowly, almost imperceptibly, shapes began to emerge—letters forming into fragments of sentences, sentences forming into faint, coherent thoughts.

He squinted, leaning closer in the dream, careful not to disturb the boy. The words trembled on the page, fluid and wavering, but they were there, small glimpses of meaning. Wishes, pleas, questions—lines that seemed to echo emotions Fourth could almost feel vibrating through the ink.

A chill ran down his spine as he realized that some of the phrases mirrored his own experiences, tiny details from his life subtly reflected in the boy’s frantic writing. “No… this can’t be,” he whispered in the dream, though no sound reached the boy. He watched, heart pounding, as the boy’s pen sketched another line, “long… pine… desire… next cha—  WHAT?”

Fourth froze, the familiar words sending a thrill and a shiver through him. They were the same as those papers that had first shaken his reality—his reality.

As Fourth’s eyes roamed over the trembling words, a single line made his chest seize. The boy had written a name—Fourth. His own name, scrawled in shaky, urgent handwriting. Fourth froze, heart hammering. It wasn’t just a coincidence, the letters glowed faintly under the dim dream-light, impossible to ignore.

The realization crashed into him like a wave. This wasn’t just a dream. The boy—the one crying, scribbling endlessly—was the author. His creator. Every word, every chapter, every surreal twist in Fourth’s life traced back to this figure. The panic that had gripped him months ago surged back, stronger this time, tangled with fascination.

Fourth wanted to call out, to ask the boy why he had created this world, why he had done this to Fourth. But the familiar warning lingered, if he tried to reach the boy directly, he would wake up. The thread of the dream world would snap, leaving only the cold reality behind.

Instead, Fourth leaned closer to the glass barrier of the boy’s world, tracing the letters with his eyes, memorizing each curve and loop. “So… you’re the one behind all of this,” he whispered to himself, a mix of awe, fear, and disbelief coloring his tone. “Everything… it’s you.”

Fourth leaned closer, trying to make out each curve of other words as it trembled under the boy’s frantic pen. His fingers twitched, as if he wanted to reach out and touch the paper, but he reminded himself, one wrong move, and he’d wake up.

But his excitement got the better of him. He shifted forward, leaning just a little too far, and his elbow grazed the edge of the transparent barrier surrounding the boy. The glass wobbled beneath his touch.

“No—wait—” he murmured, but it was too late. The world buckled violently around him, a dizzying whirl of black and faint light, the boy’s sobs echoing and fading, and then—

Fourth’s eyes flew open.

He was back in Gemini’s bed, where he had fallen asleep last night, chest pounding, hair damp with sweat, the faint gray light of morning spilling across the room. Gemini stirred beside him, letting out a sleepy murmur and burrowing closer, completely unaware of the void Fourth had just escaped.

Fourth’s hands pressed against the sheets, gripping them, trying to reconcile the impossibility of what he’d just seen.

Fourth lay awake, the faint light of the streetlamp filtering through the blinds, painting soft stripes across Gemini’s sleeping form. His chest rose and fell in the rhythm of steady, untroubled sleep, and Fourth felt a pang of something almost painful—relief, maybe, that this person beside him was real, warm, tangible.

Yet his mind refused to settle. Images of the boy in the endless void flickered behind his eyelids, the frantic scratching of the pen, the sobs muffled behind the glass, the way the words seemed impossibly deliberate yet achingly helpless. Fourth’s fingers twitched, itching to reach out, to touch the boy’s hand through that impossible barrier.

Why is he crying? What is he writing? he wondered, the questions spinning faster and faster. My name… he saw it. This boy… is the author.

A shiver ran down Fourth’s spine. The revelation should have terrified him—but it didn’t entirely. Instead, a strange familiarity hummed in the pit of his stomach, a connection he couldn’t rationalize.

Fourth shifted slightly, careful not to disturb Gemini, and traced patterns absentmindedly on the sheet between them. Could he communicate with him somehow? Was there a way to reach across the invisible barrier? Or was every attempt doomed to wake him, to break the fragile tether between these two worlds?

He swallowed hard, leaning back against the pillow, eyes fixed on the ceiling. “Are my choices… even mine?” he whispered softly, almost to himself. “Do any of them matter if someone else wrote them?”

Amidst the existential dread, a spark of awe lingered. The idea that his life—his friends, his love, even his fears—were part of something larger, sent a strange thrill through him. It was terrifying, yes, but brilliant in its own way.

Fourth exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the questions settle alongside him. And though he could not reach the boy, could not touch the pen or stop the tears, he found a flicker of comfort in the rhythm of Gemini’s breathing.

Fourth shifted slightly under the blanket, careful not to jostle Gemini too much. Gemini’s eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked up at him, soft and sleepy.

“Fourth… why are you awake?” Gemini murmured, his voice thick and warm, a yawn sneaking in at the end.

Fourth hesitated, unsure how much to reveal. He smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from Gemini’s forehead. “Just… thinking,” he said softly, trying to keep his tone light, even though his mind was still swirling with questions about the void, the boy, and the author.

Gemini nuzzled closer, resting his head against Fourth’s chest. “Thinking about… me?” he asked, voice teasing but drowsy, the corners of his mouth twitching into a sleepy grin.

Fourth chuckled quietly, the sound low in the quiet room. “Partly,” he admitted, wrapping an arm more securely around Gemini.

Gemini hummed, pressing a sleepy kiss to Fourth’s chest, his fingers curling around Fourth’s side. “Well… I’m glad you’re here with me,” he murmured. “Even if you’re overthinking again.”

Fourth let out a soft laugh, resting his chin atop Gemini’s head. For now, he allowed himself to sink into the warmth and presence of Gemini, letting the questions hover in the back of his mind, unspoken, for just a little while.

Gemini shifted slightly, nuzzling closer, and let out a quiet sigh. “Don’t let those thoughts keep you up too long,” he said softly, his voice still thick with sleep.

“I won’t,” Fourth replied, letting the lingering weight of the void fade just a little, though the memory of the boy in the glass still lingered in the edges of his mind. “Not while I’ve got you here.”

Fourth shifted slightly, curling closer to Gemini, letting their bodies press together under the soft weight of the blanket. Gemini’s head rested against Fourth’s chest, arms draped loosely around him, and Fourth instinctively wrapped an arm around Gemini’s shoulders, holding him gently.

Fourth’s hand lingered on Gemini’s cheek, brushing back a loose strand of hair. He leaned down slowly, careful not to startle him, and pressed his lips to Gemini’s forehead first. Gemini murmured softly in his sleep, nuzzling closer, and Fourth’s lips curved into a smile.

Encouraged, he moved down to Gemini’s soft, parted lips, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss. Gemini’s lashes fluttered, his sleepy face somehow even more endearing, a quiet sigh escaping him as Fourth lingered there, letting the warmth of the moment settle around them.

Fourth pulled back just slightly, forehead resting against Gemini’s, whispering softly, “You’re adorable… even when you’re asleep.”

Fourth’s heart skipped as he caught Gemini’s half-lidded eyes, the drowsy haze making him look impossibly soft and small. He felt that sharp pang of cuteness aggression hit all at once.

“You’re… way too cute right now,” Fourth whispered, voice trembling between awe and mischief. He leaned closer, pressing tiny, teasing kisses along Gemini’s temple, jaw, and the curve of his cheek, careful to feel every flicker of warmth under his lips.

Gemini let out a sleepy hum, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he burrowed slightly into Fourth, half-aware, half-dreaming. Fourth’s fingers traced along Gemini’s arms, holding him a little tighter, the affection almost dizzying.

“I can’t… I can’t handle you like this,” Fourth murmured, laughter and adoration lacing his voice, pressing another soft kiss to Gemini’s forehead. “You’re driving me insane with how cute you are.”

Gemini’s sleepy gaze met his, a soft, barely-there smile flickering across his face. “Mm… no you’re cuter,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, but nuzzled closer anyway.

Fourth leaned in slowly, letting his lips brush against Gemini’s in a lazy, lingering kiss. Gemini responded with equal gentleness, his half-asleep warmth pressing against Fourth as if he didn’t want to move at all.

The kiss stretched out, unhurried, soft, and full of that quiet intimacy that only came from knowing each other so completely. Fourth let his hand drift through Gemini’s hair, fingers tangling slightly, while Gemini murmured faintly against his mouth, the sound low and content.

Fourth blinked down at Gemini’s half-asleep, tousled face and felt something dangerous bubble up—pure, unrestrained cuteness aggression. His chest practically ached. I have to… I have to thank the author, he thought wildly. For making Gemini. For this face, these sleepy little grumbles, this ridiculous way he curls into me… it’s criminally cute.

He couldn’t resist, his fingers tangled in Gemini’s hair, tugging him closer, and he pressed a long, slow kiss to Gemini’s lips, letting the affection—and the overwhelming urge to smother him in adoration—pour out. “Seriously,” Fourth muttered softly against Gemini’s mouth, “thank you, whoever wrote you… for being the cutest thing in existence.”

Gemini stirred, half-awake, his hand reaching up almost instinctively to cup Fourth’s cheek. His lips brushed against Fourth’s in a soft, sleepy kiss—slow, warm, and full of that drowsy intimacy that made Fourth’s chest tighten.

Fourth’s grin softened against Gemini’s, and he leaned into the kiss, letting the weight of the morning, the lingering magic of last night, and the endless affection between them settle into this quiet, perfect moment. Gemini’s fingers tangled in Fourth’s hair, holding him gently but firmly.

Gemini’s fingers edged lower beneath Fourth’s shirt, brushing against the sensitive skin of his chest. He found Fourth’s nipples and began to tease them gently, rolling and flicking them just enough to draw soft gasps and a shiver from Fourth.

Fourth’s hands instinctively tangled in Gemini’s hair, holding him closer, lips parting in a lazy, warm kiss that mingled with quiet sighs, the morning stretching around them in an intimate, unhurried haze.

Gemini’s hands crept upward, fingertips grazing Fourth’s sides as he slowly lifted the hem of Fourth’s shirt, inch by inch, until it bunched at his shoulders. He paused for a moment, just above Fourth’s chest, eyes flicking up to meet Fourth’s with a teasing glint, making him shiver in anticipation.

Then, leaning in, Gemini let his lips brush lightly against the warm skin, trailing a line of soft kisses down to the apex of Fourth’s chest. When his mouth finally settled over a nipple, Gemini’s lips pressed and sucked with deliberate care, rolling it gently between his tongue and teeth.

Fourth’s back arched instinctively, small gasps and shivers escaping him as Gemini’s hands traced lazy patterns along his ribs, grounding each delicate, charged motion.

His tongue traced the sensitive curve, rolling it just enough to make Fourth shiver, his hands gripping the sheets instinctively.

Fourth’s breaths hitched, shallow and uneven, as Gemini’s mouth alternated between gentle sucking and soft, tantalizing nips. The teasing was maddening, each touch calculated to draw tiny whimpers and shivers from him.

Gemini’s eyes flicked up occasionally, locking with Fourth’s, the intensity of his gaze making him flush, heightening every sensation as if Fourth existed only to be adored like this.

Fourth’s chest heaved as the tension built, heat pooling in his veins. With a sudden, determined motion, he pushed Gemini back gently but firmly, letting a mischievous grin curl across his lips. “Your turn,” he murmured, voice low and teasing, eyes glinting with a mix of desire and playful dominance.

As Gemini settled against the bed, slightly surprised but smiling, Fourth’s hands roamed over his chest, tracing the lines of muscle with delicate, teasing touches. Slowly, he lifted Gemini’s shirt, bunched it at his shoulders, and leaned down, letting his lips brush over Gemini’s skin.

His tongue traced teasing paths to Gemini’s nipples, rolling and flicking them with careful precision, alternating between gentle sucking and light nips that drew soft gasps from Gemini.

Gemini’s fingers tangled in Fourth’s hair. Fourth’s heart leapt—part triumph, part awe at how intensely Gemini responded.

“Ah… fuck…” Gemini groaned, chest rising and falling quickly, fingers tangling in Fourth’s hair. Every small, deliberate motion sent jolts of pleasure through him, soft moans slipping past his lips.

Fourth grinned against his skin, alternating between gentle sucking and rolling each nipple between his fingers and tongue, savoring the way Gemini’s reactions spiked with every touch.

“Y-yes… mm… just like that…” Gemini breathed, voice ragged, hips pressing instinctively into Fourth’s hand. His moans broke into low, breathy groans, every inch of him alive with sensation.

Fourth teased with slow, deliberate slowness, letting each flick and press linger, watching the way Gemini shivered, hips twitching, every sound and motion a signal of how intensely he was feeling it.

Gemini’s breath came faster, chest heaving under Fourth’s mouth. His hands tightened in Fourth’s hair, hips lifting instinctively, rolling upward in slow, desperate arcs against him.

“Mm—ahh…” a needy groan tore from his throat as the movement dragged a delicious friction between them, each grind making his whole body shudder.

Fourth smirked against Gemini’s skin, lips still teasing at his nipples, but his hands slid lower, resting firmly at Gemini’s waist as if to steady him—though the press of Gemini’s hips rolling up told a different story.

“F-Fourth…” Gemini gasped, voice low and rough, hips shifting again, searching for more pressure, more heat. His movements grew slightly more insistent, slow but deliberate, each grind drawing another shaky sound from deep in his chest.

Fourth pulled away, and Gemini whined at the loss of heat.

Fourth tugged open the cupboard, his movements slow, almost deliberate, as if every second was meant to make Gemini wait. He pulled out the small jar of lube, twisting it open with a soft snap. His gaze never left Gemini’s face, drinking in the restless way Gemini shifted on the spot, the way his chest rose and fell with shallow, expectant breaths.

Fourth dipped his fingers into the lube, scooping out a glossy dollop. Fourth set the jar down beside him and then, instead of standing tall, lowered himself onto hands and knees. His movements were slow, deliberate, as he crawled across the space between them. His gaze stayed fixed on Gemini the whole way—eyes dark, mouth curved with the kind of promise that made Gemini’s pulse stutter.

By the time Fourth reached him, Gemini was already leaning back on his elbows, breath caught somewhere between a laugh and a moan. Fourth settled close, his knees bracketing Gemini’s.  The ointment gleamed on his fingertips under the dim light as he caught Gemini’s pajama pants pulling it dowm.

And then caught Gemini’s cock. Instead of simply smearing it on, he pressed the cool balm into Gemini’s cock with slow, kneading strokes, sliding it down, massaging until the skin gleamed. The contact lingered—slick, deliberate, and undeniably intimate.

Gemini’s lips parted, a low sound escaping him, half-gasp, half-whimper, as Fourth’s thumb dragged across his tip. Their eyes locked, tension curling tight between them.

Then Fourth reached out to his own pants, pulling out his own cock. Fourth let the strokes linger a moment longer before, without breaking eye contact, he dipped back into the jar. This time he didn’t just reach for Gemini’s cock—he slid his own length against Gemini’s, pressing them together, skin to skin. The cool lube oozed slightly between them as he smoothed it over both their cocks at once.

Gemini let out a shaky breath, caught between a gasp and a groan, the closeness driving him restless. Fourth leaned in closer, his lips just grazing the corner of Gemini’s mouth as he worked the ointment deeper, his strokes unrelenting—up, down, up.

Gemini’s head tipped back, his lips parting on a sharp inhale as his eyes rolled shut, lashes trembling before rolling back further, lost to the sheer intensity of it. A low, broken sound slipped from his throat, as if the contact of their cocks rubbing together was too much, too much to bear.

Fourth smirked faintly at the sight, leaning closer, his breath hot against Gemini’s ear. His strokes didn’t falter—up, down, slick and slow—dragging out the reaction, savoring the way Gemini’s body gave him away with every shiver.

Gemini’s breath hitched over and over, uneven and shaky, as if each stroke sent shivers through him from fingertips to collarbone. His head tipped back slightly, lips parting in quiet gasps, eyes fluttering closed before snapping open again, drawn to Fourth’s intense gaze.

Fourth leaned in just enough that his shoulder pressed into Gemini’s, the warmth of his body brushing against him as he kept the motion slow and steady.

A low, guttural groan ripped from Gemini’s chest, vibrating through Fourth as he leaned closer, pressing every inch of himself flush against him.

“Oh… ah… Fourth…” Gemini’s voice was rough, ragged, thick with need, every word punctuated by a deep, breathy moan. His lips found Fourth’s, teeth grazing lightly as his own body shivered in response to the friction, the closeness, the scent of Fourth surrounding him shooting out ribbons of cum, some of which landed across Fourth’s jaw and cheek.

Fourth’s body tensed impossibly, a shudder racing through him from toes to head. His hips jerked against Gemini’s with frantic force, nails digging into shoulders, breath ripping out in ragged gasps.

“Ah… G-Gem…!” he choked out, voice breaking into high, desperate moans. His entire body shuddered against Gemini, desperate as he came.

Gemini’s hand froze for a fraction of a second as he noticed the tiny white smear on Fourth’s jaw. His eyes went wide, part horror, part amusement. “Oh no…” he murmured, reaching up to dab at it with a fingertip, but somehow only spreading it a little more. Fourth blinked at him, one eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the cream.

“Seriously?” Fourth teased,

Gemini’s eyes widened in panic as he realized he’d only made it worse, smearing the cum across Fourth’s jaw and cheeks. “Oh no—uh—wait, I can fix it!” he said, his voice a little flustered.

Before Fourth could protest, Gemini leaned in, tongue darting out to carefully lick the smear away. Fourth froze, a shiver running down his spine at the sudden, intimate action. “Gemini—!” he started, but the sound got lost in a small laugh as Gemini’s tongue moved deftly, cleaning the mess.

“See? All gone,” Gemini said, pulling back slightly, cheeks pink. Fourth could only stare at him, half exasperated, half… not minding at all.

“You’re so gross, good thing you are cute,” Fourth murmured, brushing his thumb over where Gemini had just licked.

Chapter Text

Fourth stirred under the covers as Gemini’s gentle nudges grew insistent. “Fourth… wake up,” Gemini murmured, his voice soft but playful, a grin tugging at his lips even through sleepiness. “Your mom called… she’s coming over for lunch today.”

Fourth groaned, stretching and rubbing at his eyes. “Already? What time did she say?”

Gemini shrugged, flopping back against him with a yawn. “Soonish… she didn’t give a strict time, but I figured we should get moving. You know… food and all that.”

Fourth sat up slowly, the reality of the day settling in, and let Gemini snuggle back against him. “Alright… alright,” he said, half-amused, half-reluctant. “Guess I better get ready before she shows up and scolds me for sleeping in.”

Gemini laughed quietly, pressing a sleepy kiss to Fourth’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you survive the interrogation… maybe.”

Fourth chuckled, finally swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

.

.

Fourth emerged from the bathroom, still damp from his quick shower, hair slightly tousled, and dressed in comfortable clothes. The faint scent of soap lingered on his skin, mingling with the warm morning sunlight that spilled through the windows. He stretched his arms, letting out a quiet sigh, and headed toward the kitchen.

The first thing that hit him was the aroma—sharp, tangy, and impossibly familiar. Garlic, chili, lime, and smoky grill notes mingled in a heady perfume that made his stomach twist in anticipation. At the center of it all, Gemini stood on his tiptoes, leaning over the stove, a wooden spatula in hand, stirring with exaggerated concentration. Steam curled around his head, making his hair cling slightly to his forehead.

Fourth peeked into the kitchen, eyebrows raised as he watched Gemini chopping vegetables with exaggerated concentration. The familiar sizzle and aroma hit him immediately.

“Wait… wait a second,” Fourth said, stepping closer, eyes narrowing with mock suspicion. “Som Tum, Larb, Tom Saep, Gai Yang, Sai Krok Isaan? Where… how do you even know all this about my mom?”

Gemini glanced up, grinning sheepishly. “I know your mom’s favorites, okay? You told me once. Ages ago!”

Fourth blinked, his mind racing. He doesn't really remember mentioning this to Gemini before.  His eyebrows lifted in astonishment. “You… you actually remembered all of this?”

Gemini shrugged, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, though a faint blush crept across his cheeks. “Of course I remembered. Why wouldn’t I?”

Fourth smirked, but then his gaze swept over Gemini’s usually questionable cooking techniques—the slightly charred edges, the overzealous sprinkling of spices, the mysterious wobble in his sauce. A alarm bell went off in Fourth’s head.

“Gemini,” he said dramatically, wagging a finger. “You’re trying to poison my mother, aren’t you?”

Gemini gasped, clutching his chest in mock offense. “What?! Absolutely not!”

Fourth’s eyes narrowed as he leaned against the counter, sniffing the air with mock suspicion. “Hold up,” he said, voice dripping with mock seriousness. “This… this could be dangerous.”

Gemini looked up, brow furrowed. “Dangerous? Fourth, it’s just lunch. What are you—”

“Don’t act innocent!” Fourth cut him off, wagging a finger dramatically. “You know how your food usually tastes, right? I’ve survived your attempts at scrambled eggs and instant noodles… barely. And now you’re ‘cooking’ for my mother?” He leaned closer, lowering his voice into a conspiratorial whisper. “Do you even realize what could happen if she eats this? She could… she could… explode from the heat of your seasoning! Or worse… develop a lifelong distrust of your cooking!”

Gemini’s jaw dropped, a laugh caught in his throat, eyes wide and amused. “Fourth! I’m not—”

“I don’t care!” Fourth exclaimed, grabbing an apron from the hook and slapping it around his waist with exaggerated flair. “This is a high-risk operation. I have to take over. The fate of my mother’s taste buds—is in my hands!”

Gemini groaned, surrendering with a dramatic flail of his hands. “Fine, fine! But you better not mess up my Som Tum technique!”

Fourth rolled up his sleeves, grabbing a knife and turning on the stove. “Yeah, sure… you’re just lucky I’m here to save her life.” He began reorganizing the ingredients with a mix of precision and theatrical flair, tossing Gemini a spatula. “You can supervise. Carefully. Very carefully.”

Gemini pouted, leaning against the counter, but didn’t protest further. Fourth had taken over with the kind of determined. And as he stirred, chopped, and arranged, he couldn’t help but feel a burst of amusement—Gemini’s attempt to impress his mom was simultaneously endearing and potentially disastrous, and Fourth was just the right person to keep it from turning into complete chaos.

“Don’t touch the sauce,” Fourth warned, eyeing Gemini’s eager hands. “One wrong move and we’re switching to instant noodles.”

Gemini feigned a dramatic groan but stayed put.

.

.

The doorbell rang, sharp and insistent, and Fourth’s stomach did a little flip. “That must be her,” he muttered, straightening his shirt and tugging at the apron he’d abandoned on the counter.

Gemini peeked out the window and grinned. “My mother-in-law is here!”

“Not ‘mother-in-law,’ Gemini,” Fourth corrected, shooting him a glare. “Just… my mother. Stay calm. Don’t do anything weird.”

Gemini saluted mockingly, though his eyes sparkled with excitement. “Yes, chef. No weirdness.”

The door swung open, and Fourth’s mother stepped in, a warm smile lighting her face. “Hello, Fourth! Gemini!” She swept in, her gaze immediately catching the spread on the table. “Oh my… this smells wonderful!”

Fourth’s chest puffed with quiet pride. “Thanks, Mom. I… I did most of it. Just a little help from Gemini here.”

Gemini puffed out his chest, grinning like a child caught in a rare moment of glory. “Little help? I did all the hard work!”

Fourth rolled his eyes, unable to hide the corner of his grin. “Uh-huh. Sure, you did.”

Fourth’s mother laughed softly, her eyes twinkling as she glanced between them. “Well, whoever did it, it smells amazing. You two have been busy!” She reached out to tousle Gemini’s hair playfully, which made him yelp and step back, still grinning.

“Careful! Don’t touch the chef,” Gemini warned, mock-serious, though Fourth could see the warmth in his expression.

Fourth’s mother swept forward, her arms opening wide—and before Fourth could react, she enveloped Gemini in a warm, hearty hug.

“Gemini! Thank you for helping Fourth and putting up with him,” she said with a bright laugh, her hands patting Gemini’s shoulders.

Fourth’s jaw dropped. “Wait a minute! Hold up! What’s this? Playing favorites already? Mom!”

Gemini chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Fourth’s mother turned to him, still smiling warmly. “Fourth, really. You’ve got a lot of energy, and he’s been so patient with you. I just wanted to thank him.”

Fourth crossed his arms, puffing out his chest in mock indignation. “I see how it is. Hug him first, compliment him, and leave me in the corner.”

Gemini laughed, still blushing slightly from the unexpected affection. “It’s… it’s okay, Fourth. Really.”

Fourth huffed, though a small, amused grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I’m not okay. I’m deeply offended and pouting. You hear me?”

His mother just chuckled again, shaking her head. “You’ll survive.”

Fourth huffed, stepping forward and planting himself squarely in front of his mother. “Don’t just stand there! I demand equal treatment!”

Fourth’s mother laughed, stepping into him and giving him a warm, comforting squeeze. “Alright, alright. Here’s my hug for my favorite son,” she said, exaggerating the word favorite in a teasing tone.

Fourth pretended to glare, but the corners of his mouth twitched with amusement. “Finally. That’s more like it. Hug received, ego restored.”

The three of them settled at the table, and Fourth ladled the steaming Tom Saep into bowls while Gemini carefully arranged the Som Tum and Larb. Every now and then, Fourth shot him a playful glare. “Careful, Gemini. One wrong move and this papaya salad becomes a disaster.”

Gemini grinned sheepishly. “I’ve got this… mostly.”

“You mostly have it,” Fourth repeated, mock-serious, before tasting a bit of the Larb. “Hm… actually, this isn’t bad,” he said, giving Gemini an approving nod.

Fourth’s mother took a bite of the Gai Yang, eyes lighting up. “Oh, Fourth, this is perfect. And the Larb… so flavorful! You’ve really outdone yourself.”

Fourth puffed out his chest, holding back a proud smile. “Thank you, Mom. I… I did most of it. Gemini’s… contribution was minimal,” he added pointedly, waggling his eyebrows at Gemini.

Gemini huffed, leaning back with mock offense. “Hey! I chopped a few things!”

“Few things!” Fourth echoed dramatically, shaking his head. “Do you know how much skill it takes to not ruin a papaya salad? I think you should be grateful I let you watch!”

Fourth’s mother laughed, shaking her head at their antics. “You two are ridiculous,” she said fondly, glancing between them. “ It’s good to see you both working together… even if one of you is more helpful than the other.”

Gemini’s cheeks flushed, but his smile was warm, and Fourth felt that little spark of pride that came from being seen by both his mother and the person he loved.

They spent the next hour eating, teasing, and laughing. Gemini kept trying to sneak bites of Fourth’s cooking before he could stop him, and Fourth retaliated by mock-chasing him around the table with a fork. Their mother joined in the laughter, shaking her head at their childishness but clearly enjoying it.

.

.

Fourth leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Gemini scrub at the dishes with exaggerated care, soap suds clinging to his fingers and the occasional drip sliding down his wrist. His mother, perched on a stool nearby, chuckled quietly to herself before leaning toward Fourth with a sly grin.

“You know,” she said, voice low and teasing, “he is really … devoted to you.”

Fourth snorted, a mix of embarrassment and amusement warming his chest. “Mom… he’s not… he’s just helping. I could do them myself.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. “He’s very attentive. Almost… too attentive. He might have to start charging you for all this labor.”

Fourth groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Mom! Stop! Don’t—he’ll hear you!”

Gemini, oblivious at first, glanced over his shoulder at the teasing exchange, soap bubbles clinging to his hair and shirt. A small, sheepish smile tugged at his lips. “Uh… what did I do now?”

“You’re just very… enthusiastic about helping,” Fourth’s mother said sweetly, patting Gemini on the arm. “It’s… endearing. I can see why Fourth is so fond of you.”

Fourth sputtered, cheeks heating red enough to match the steam from the dishes. “Mom! I said—don’t—you’re… ugh!”

Gemini laughed softly, shrugging and ducking his head. “I… like helping. Is that so bad?”

Fourth groaned again, half in frustration, half in laughter, and muttered under his breath, “No… but now Mom’s making fun of me for liking you too much.”

His mother just laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Fourth. You can’t hide it. You’re hopeless around him, and I’ve seen it from day one.”

Fourth shot a glare at her, then glanced at Gemini, who was grinning shyly but still working diligently at the dishes.

After a while of laughter, teasing, and sharing stories, the meal finally settled into a comfortable lull. Fourth’s mother leaned back in her chair, smiling warmly. “Well, you two have been keeping me entertained, and I think I’ve overstayed my welcome,” she said, gathering her things.

Fourth’s stomach sank a little. “Already? You just got here!”

Gemini grinned, leaning lazily against Fourth. “Don’t worry, Fourth. She’ll be back.”

Fourth’s mother chuckled, giving Gemini a gentle pat on the shoulder. “You’ve done a great job today, Gemini. Thank you for putting up with him,” she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

Fourth pouted dramatically, arms crossed.

She laughed, shaking her head. “Oh, Fourth… you’ll always be my son. But you two are quite the pair. Keep taking care of each other.”

With a final hug for both of them—squeezing Gemini extra tightly—she waved and headed for the door.

Just as Fourth’s mother was about to leave, she reached out and gently tugged Gemini aside, away from Fourth’s direct line of sight. Fourth, busy stacking a few plates, barely noticed them shifting to the corner of the kitchen.

They whispered quietly, words muffled and intimate, punctuated by occasional smiles and nods. Gemini’s eyes widened slightly at one point, a soft laugh escaping him, and his cheeks warmed. Fourth’s curiosity flared, but he bit back a question, sensing this was a private moment.

His mother gave Gemini a small, knowing nod, her tone low but kind. “I just want you to know… he’s lucky to have you. And I hope you take care of him.”

Gemini’s expression softened, a mixture of embarrassment and pride. “I… I will. I promise.”

They shared a brief, conspiratorial glance before she patted his shoulder and returned to Fourth.

Fourth, finally looking up, tilted his head in curiosity. “What were you two whispering about?”

Gemini flushed, trying to hide his grin. “Nothing! Absolutely nothing!”

Fourth’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Uh-huh. Sure. Totally believable.”

His mother chuckled warmly, shaking her head. “Some things are better left as a secret, Fourth.”

Then she enveloped Fourth in a long, warm hug. He felt the familiar weight of her arms around him, the subtle pressure that spoke of comfort, pride, and love. Fourth hugged her back tightly, holding onto her as if grounding himself in the reality of the moment.

“You’re doing so well, Fourth,” she murmured against his shoulder. “I’m proud of you… and don’t forget, you’re loved.”

Fourth squeezed her in return, feeling a mix of gratitude and relief that, despite everything strange in his life, this part of it was undeniably real.

After a long pause, she finally pulled back, smiling at him and then at Gemini one last time. “Take care of each other,” she said softly, then waved as she stepped toward the door.

Fourth watched her go, a quiet warmth spreading through him. “I guess that’s it,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

Gemini nudged him, a teasing smirk on his face. “You’re going to miss her already, huh?”

“Shut up,” Fourth said, rolling his eyes, though his smile betrayed him. “Let’s clean up before I get sentimental.”

The two of them moved around the kitchen together, the quiet aftermath of a cozy lunch settling over them, soft laughter and contentment lingering in the air.

Chapter Text

Fourth’s eyes drifted over Gemini as he leaned over the desk, brow furrowed in concentration, fingers tapping lightly against the keys. The morning light spilled across the room, tracing the line of Gemini’s jaw, the curve of his shoulders, and the faint rise and fall of his back as he shifted between sitting and leaning. Fourth’s gaze lingered a little longer than he intended, memorizing the slope of Gemini’s neck, the soft muscles in his arms, the way his hair fell just so when he bent forward.

He couldn’t help the small, affectionate smile tugging at his lips. “How does someone manage to be this focused and this… gorgeous at the same time?” Fourth murmured under his breath, voice lost to the quiet hum of the room.

Every so often, Gemini would stretch or lean back, and Fourth’s chest fluttered at the simple, effortless motions—tiny glimpses of him that felt intimate even in their ordinary, unspoken rhythm.

As Fourth’s gaze lingered on Gemini, a sudden flicker in his mind pulled him back to the black void. He saw the boy in the glass box again—the desperate, tear-streaked figure hunched over scraps of paper, writing frantically. The posture, the slight slump of the shoulders, even the way the hands moved, mirrored Gemini’s stance perfectly.

Fourth blinked, shaking his head slightly. “Ugh... I must be insane,” he muttered under his breath, though a chill ran down his spine. He knew it was just his mind projecting, a shadow of fear and wonder twisting Gemini into the image of the boy from the void.

Fourth leaned back against the pillows, running a hand over his face, trying to shake the lingering unease. Gemini, oblivious, typed and hummed softly, the ordinary grounding Fourth back in the warmth and light of reality—and away from the haunting memory of that trapped boy.

Then, his phone buzzed sharply on the bedside table. He picked it up and squinted at the screen—Satang.

“Meeting up for moot prep, right?” the message read.

Fourth glanced at the clock, the late morning light spilling over Gemini’s desk. He sighed, reluctantly tearing his eyes away from Gemini. “I have to go meet Satang… moot prep,” he muttered, stretching a little as he rose from the bed.

Gemini looked up, one eyebrow raised, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Already? You’re leaving me already?” he teased, though his tone carried a subtle, sleepy reluctance.

Fourth chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… Satang won’t let me slack off, unfortunately.” He moved to grab his bag, but paused, looking back at Gemini. “I’ll be back soon. Don’t get into trouble while I’m gone.”

Gemini’s grin softened, and he leaned back, stretching one arm lazily. “Try not to work too hard,” he said with a wink, making Fourth smile despite himself.

Fourth shook his head, grabbing his coat. “No promises,” he muttered playfully, though in his chest he felt a quiet pull to rush back, to return to the warmth and chaos of Gemini’s presence.

When Fourth arrived at Satang’s house, Satang was already hunched over a stack of case notes, typing furiously, papers were strewn across the dining table, laptops hummed.

“Finally,” Satang muttered without looking up, a strand of hair falling across their forehead. “I thought I’d have to start this without you.”

Fourth set his bag down, rubbing the back of his neck. “You didn’t wait for me?”

Satang glanced up briefly, smirking. “You’re late, but I’ve made some progress. Let’s dive in—no time to waste.”

Fourth immediately made a beeline for the kitchen, rummaging through the cupboards for a mug and coffee. The familiar clink of dishes and the smell of coffee grounds gave him a little comfort before starting work.

Satang, already perched at the table with his laptop open, glanced up with a teasing grin. “Wow, straight for the caffeine, huh? Can’t even say hello before your life depends on a cup of coffee?”

Fourth shot him a mock glare over his shoulder, spooning sugar into his mug. “Hey, priorities, okay?”

Satang laughed, shaking his head.

Fourth just smirked, pouring the hot water over the grounds.

As soon as Fourth had his coffee, he and Satang spread out their materials across the kitchen table—casebooks, statutory texts, and notes from previous commercial law classes.

Satang opened Chitty on Contracts with a flourish. “Right, Fourth. Let’s look at the duty of care and foreseeability issue first. Look at the Caparo principles—this could be our angle.”

Fourth leaned over, tapping on highlighted paragraphs. “Also consider Photo Production Ltd v Securicor. Their approach to exclusion clauses could turn the defendant’s argument on its head if we frame it correctly.”

They spent hours in intense focus, cross-referencing the Contracts (Rights of Third Parties) Act 1999, highlighting key points in Sale of Goods Act 1979, and drafting skeleton arguments. Satang would point out a precedent, Fourth would counter with another case interpretation. Arguments ping-ponged across the table, often interrupted by quiet chuckles when one of them exaggerated a clause for effect.

Refills of coffee kept their energy steady, while a few hastily grabbed biscuits disappeared between note-taking sessions. Sticky notes sprouted everywhere. Occasionally, Satang would smirk at Fourth. “Are you seriously arguing implied terms again?” Fourth just grinned back. “You have to look at it from my point of view.”

By the time evening rolled around they had covered most of the moot problem and Fourth was shifting constantly in his chair, crossing and uncrossing his legs, grimacing as the pressure in his bladder became impossible to ignore.

Fourth shifted uncomfortably in his seat, realizing he desperately needed a break. “Uh… Satang, I’ll be right back,” he muttered, pushing his chair away from the cluttered table.

Satang barely looked up, absorbed in a tangle of case notes. “Don’t take too long,” he called over his shoulder, smirking. Fourth groaned softly and made his way carefully toward Satang’s room, where the bathroom was.

Once he relieved himself, Fourth zipped up and pushed open the bathroom door, stepping back into Satang’s bedroom. The room smelled faintly of books and coffee, cluttered with notes and papers spread across the desk. As he passed the dresser, his eyes caught the reflection in the mirror hanging above it.

Something about it made him pause. The mirror wasn’t anything unusual at first glance, just a standard rectangular piece framed in dark wood—but Fourth’s gaze lingered, drawn by a subtle shimmer in the glass, a light that didn’t belong to the overhead bulb.

He leaned a fraction closer, squinting. For a moment, all he saw was his own tired, slightly disheveled reflection. Then, almost imperceptibly, the surface rippled like water, subtle waves flowing across his reflection.

He froze. The glass shimmered unnaturally, bending and folding his image as if the mirror itself were liquid. Fourth leaned closer, mesmerized and horrified all at once. He had seen mirrors reveal words before, hints of the story bleeding into reflective surfaces—but this… this was something entirely new.

Tentatively, he reached out a hand. The ripples responded, spreading outward from his fingertips like droplets in a pond. His reflection wavered, stretching and twisting, and for a brief second he thought he could see not himself, but shapes, shadows, letters swirling just beneath the surface.

“Okay… what the hell?” he muttered, voice low and shaky. He pulled back, heart hammering, marveling at the mirror behaving like liquid, alive in a way that defied everything he thought he knew about his world.

Fourth hesitated, hand hovering just above the rippling surface. The mirror undulated under his fingers like a living pool, tempting him. Curiosity outweighed caution. He pressed lightly—and felt nothing but cool liquid give way, flowing around his hand instead of stopping it.

Heart racing, he pushed further. His palm, then wrist, then entire arm slipped through the glass as if it were water. A shiver ran through him, equal parts fear and exhilaration. He could feel the strange pull of the other side, soft and insistent, inviting him to step through.

“Holy… no way,” he whispered, his breath catching. Tentatively, he leaned forward, one leg following the other, until his whole body slid through the surface. The mirror seemed to swallow him, cool ripples brushing against his skin, bending light and space around him.

As Fourth stepped through the mirror, the world of Satang’s bedroom dissolved instantly. Solid walls, carpet, and furniture vanished, replaced by the suffocating black of the void he had been visiting in his dreams. The air felt heavy yet fluid, the endless darkness stretching in every direction.

Everything was as he remembered from his recurring dreams—the eerie quiet, the sense of infinite space—but this time, there was no faint glow of the boy scribbling, no sobs echoing through the blackness. Just him, suspended in the void, weightless and untethered.

Fourth’s heartbeat quickened. He took a tentative step forward, the emptiness responding like a liquid canvas to his movements. The familiarity of it was both comforting and unsettling, like returning to a place he had known intimately yet never truly understood.

“This… this is exactly like before,” he whispered, his voice swallowed by the void.

Fourth drifted through the black expanse, every step echoing faintly in the oppressive silence. He called out tentatively, his voice swallowed almost instantly. “Hello? Are you here?”

He moved past the familiar shapes of nothing—shifting shadows, the formless stretch of the void—and instinctively sought the glass box, the fragile prison where he’d seen the boy scribbling. But no matter how far he walked, how carefully he scanned every inch of darkness, it wasn’t there.

“Where… where did you go?” he whispered.

Fourth’s heart jumped as a faint glow appeared in the distance, the familiar shimmer teasing hope in his chest. He floated toward it, anticipation building, every step reverberating in the emptiness. “Finally… it’s him,” he whispered, reaching out.

But as he drew closer, his breath caught. A shiver ran down his spine. This wasn’t the boy. This wasn’t the familiar presence of the author crying over his pages.

It wasn’t just one box. Row after row, glass boxes stretched endlessly in every direction, each softly lit from within. And inside each one, someone lay curled up, asleep, pale and still, as though suspended in time.

Fourth blinked, disoriented. His mind raced. “What… what is this?” he muttered, hovering above the first row. Every box reflected a dim, distorted glow, the occupants silent and fragile. None stirred, none moved, and yet the sheer number made the emptiness around him feel even heavier, more infinite.

Fourth hovered above the boxes, his fingers brushing the cold surface of one. It felt smooth, solid, and yet fragile, as if one wrong touch could shatter it entirely. He floated back, trying to process it.

He floated closer, heart hammering in his chest, and his stomach twisted. One by one, he recognized the figures inside the glass boxes—versions of himself. Each box held a Fourth frozen in sleep, in some subtle variation, almost identical to how he looked right now.

“No… no, this… this can’t be real,” he whispered, his voice trembling, swallowed almost instantly by the void. He reached out to touch one of the boxes, his hand hovering just above the surface, and felt the chill of impossibility. Every fiber of his being screamed against what he was seeing.

“Why… why am I… in all these boxes?” His mind raced, trying to stitch together some rational explanation. Were these potential versions of him? Alternate timelines? Or… was this some cruel recording by the same author who had written his life?

A wave of vertigo hit him, and he felt unmoored, as though the ground beneath him had vanished. He spun, looking for the familiar shimmer of the boy in the glass box—the author—but there was nothing. Only endless rows of himself, unconscious, unreachable, and the dim light stretching into the void.

“None of this makes sense,” he muttered, voice tight. His hands trembled as he floated between the rows, eyes scanning for any clue, any anomaly that could explain this.

Fourth’s chest tightened almost unbearably, his breaths coming in short, jagged gasps. His vision blurred at the edges, the endless rows of glass boxes spinning around him like a carousel of impossibility. The air—or the nothingness—felt heavy, suffocating, pressing in on him from all sides.

He stumbled backward, though there was no floor, his hands flailing through the void as if grabbing at some anchor that didn’t exist. His heartbeat hammered painfully against his ribs, each beat echoing like a drum in the silent, infinite black.

“No… no, this isn’t real… this isn’t real…” he choked out, tears springing to his eyes. Panic clawed up his throat, hot and suffocating. His limbs shook violently, muscles stiffening, and a cold sweat broke across his forehead.

He sank to what felt like the ground, curling in on himself, hugging his knees, trying to breathe steadily, though the air—or lack thereof—made it nearly impossible. His mind raced, flitting between questions he couldn’t answer and fear that had no origin.

Fourth squeezed his eyes shut, rocking slightly, trying to will the panic to recede. “Calm… just… calm,” he whispered shakily, though the void swallowed his words instantly. He didn’t know if he could stay here, if he could face what he was seeing, or even if he’d ever escape.

His vision blurred, swimming with shadows and reflections, until he could barely distinguish his own trembling body from the mirrored versions locked away in the glass. A choking sensation rose in his throat, hot and suffocating. “This… this can’t be… I’m… I’m me!” he gasped, fists clenching, nails digging into his palms until the pain barely registered.

The void felt alive, pressing in from all sides, whispering doubts he couldn’t name. His mind spun in spirals, Who am I? Why am I here? Why are there so many of me? What does this mean? Am I… replaceable? Every thought was leaving him paralyzed, arms flailing at the emptiness as if trying to push back reality itself.

His vision blurred, the infinite reflections of himself multiplying, mocking, suffocating. His chest heaved as he clawed at the air, gasping for something solid, something real.

The blackness and panic swallowed him whole. He felt his body go slack, muscles giving way under the weight of fear, and then… nothing.

When he opened his eyes, the void was gone. The suffocating black replaced by familiar shapes, soft light filtering in from a window. He lay sprawled across Satang’s bed, blanket slightly twisted around him, his heart still racing. The smell of Satang’s room—paper, faint coffee, and the lingering trace of a morning shower—grounded him in reality.

Fourth’s body ached. He blinked rapidly, trying to shake off the remnants of terror, pressing a hand to his chest as he drew in a ragged breath. For a moment, he just lay there, staring at the ceiling, letting the ordinary sights and sounds remind him that he was… back.

Satang peeked inside the bed room. “What the hell, Fourth?!” Satang exclaimed, his voice loud but teasing. “You fell asleep? We have a moot to study for!”

Fourth didn’t respond, just blinked up at him, still looking dazed, sickly, as if the world around him hadn’t quite snapped back into focus. Satang’s amusement faltered, replaced by concern.

“Whoa… okay, you’re not… uh, feeling okay, are you?” he asked, stepping closer. His joking tone vanished as he crouched beside the bed, scanning Fourth for any signs of injury or illness.

Satang’s brow furrowed. “Fourth? Are you… okay?”

Fourth didn’t respond. His body was slumped against the edge of the bed, pale, shoulders shaking slightly, and his eyes glazed over, staring at nothing. The ragged rise and fall of his chest was uneven, shallow.

Satang’s concern deepened. He crouched beside him, gently shaking his shoulder. “Hey, man… talk to me. What happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Fourth’s hands twitched slightly, gripping at the blanket as if holding onto something solid. He blinked rapidly, trying to ground himself, but no words came out. His lips parted slightly, a shallow gasp escaping before he swallowed it down.

Satang was still crouched by the bed, trying to coax some kind of response out of Fourth, when Fourth suddenly lurched forward with a choked sound.

“Shit—wait!” Satang scrambled back just as Fourth stumbled off the mattress, barely making it to the small trash bin by the desk before he vomited. The harsh retching filled the quiet room, each sound making Satang wince.

“Damn it, Fourth…” Satang muttered, rushing to grab a box of tissues from the nightstand. He hovered at his side, one hand awkwardly reaching toward his back before pulling away, then trying again. Finally, he placed a steady palm between Fourth’s shoulder blades, rubbing small, uncertain circles. “Okay, okay, get it out… you’re fine… just breathe.”

Fourth coughed weakly, clutching the rim of the bin, knuckles pale. His whole body shook as if the panic from the void was still clinging to him, wringing him out from the inside.

Satang crouched lower, his worry written all over his face now. “Forget the moot, alright? You’re seriously not okay. What the hell happened to you?”

Fourth didn’t answer—just wiped his mouth with the back of his trembling hand, eyes glassy and unfocused. Satang pressed the tissues into his fingers, biting down the urge to ask again. Instead, his voice softened. “It’s fine. Just… sit. Breathe. I’ve got you.”

Satang guided Fourth back toward the bed, keeping a steadying hand on his arm as if afraid he might collapse again. Fourth didn’t resist—his body felt too heavy, too wrung out from everything. He sank down onto the mattress, curling almost immediately onto his side, knees tucked up like he was trying to make himself smaller.

At first, it was quiet—just the faint hum of the fan, the rustle of fabric as Fourth pulled the blanket halfway over himself. But then Satang heard it, a small, broken sound. A sniff. Then another.

“Fourth…” Satang whispered, crouching at the bedside again.

Fourth pressed his face into the pillow, shoulders trembling. The tears came soundlessly at first, then in uneven waves he couldn’t seem to stop. He tried to muffle it, to hide it, but the raw ache bled through anyway.

Satang’s chest tightened. He reached out, hesitating before resting a careful hand on Fourth’s shoulder. “Hey… don’t do that. Don’t cry alone. Whatever’s going on, you don’t have to carry it like this.”

Fourth didn’t answer, just shook harder, the pillow damp beneath his cheek. Satang stayed with him, rubbing slow circles over his back now, grounding and gentle. “It’s fine… just let it out. You’ll be okay. I’ll stay right here.”

Satang sat there a long while, watching Fourth’s breathing finally even out, the last of the tremors fading into sleep. His face was still damp with tears, lashes clumped together, but the tension had eased just enough for rest to claim him. Carefully, Satang tugged the blanket higher over Fourth’s shoulders, then stood, moving quietly so as not to wake him.

He slipped into the living room, pulling his phone from his pocket. His thumb hovered for a moment over Gemini’s contact before he pressed call. The dial tone buzzed in his ear, and when Gemini picked up, his voice was groggy and sharp all at once.

“Satang? Why are you calling? Where’s Fourth?”

Satang exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “He’s here. At my place. He’s… not doing well, Gem. He threw up, and then he just—” his throat tightened a little “—he cried himself to sleep. I don’t know what’s going on, but it’s bad.”

There was silence on the other end, then Gemini’s voice dropped low, strained with panic he was trying to contain. “I’ll come right now.”

Satang let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, relief flooding his chest. “Good. Just come quick.”

Chapter Text

When Fourth’s eyes fluttered open, the first thing he registered was warmth. A steady weight around his fingers, grounding him, tugging him out of the fog of restless dreams. He blinked against the morning light spilling through Satang’s curtains and slowly turned his head.

Gemini was there.

Slumped in an awkward half-sit beside the bed, dark circles under his eyes, one hand gripping Fourth’s like he was afraid to let go even in his sleep. His thumb had gone slack, but Fourth could still feel the faint imprint of where he’d been stroking the back of his hand, over and over, all night.

Fourth’s chest tightened. For a moment he couldn’t breathe, not from fear this time, but from the fact Gemini had—his Gemini had come. Gemini had stayed right beside him.

His throat ached, raw from crying, but he couldn’t resist whispering, “Gem…”

Gemini stirred at once, lashes fluttering before his eyes snapped open, sharp and alert. He sat up straighter, scanning Fourth’s face like he was searching for damage. Relief softened his features only when he saw Fourth awake and lucid.

“Hey,” Gemini murmured, his voice rough with exhaustion. “You scared me.” His grip on Fourth’s hand tightened again. “Don’t ever do that again.”

Fourth’s lips twitched in a small, tired smile. “Sorry.” His voice cracked. “When did you come here? Did you… stay all night?”

Gemini scoffed lightly, though his eyes glistened. “Of course I did. Where else would I be?”

Fourth swallowed hard, eyes prickling. The lingering fragments of the void clung to him like cobwebs, but with Gemini’s hand around his, for the first time in what felt like forever, he felt… safe.

Gemini leaned closer, thumb brushing over the back of Fourth’s hand again. His brows were drawn tight, worry plain in his face. “What happened to you last night?” he asked softly. “You were shaking, crying in your sleep...”

Fourth opened his mouth. The words were there—about the mirror, the void, the endless rows of glass boxes with his own face trapped inside. About the boy he had always seen but couldn’t reach. His throat burned with the urge to spill everything, to finally share it with someone who cared enough to stay up all night holding his hand.

But the memory of the panic clawed at his chest, sharp and suffocating. He shut his mouth, hesitated, and forced a weak laugh instead. “It’s nothing like that. Just…” He looked away, staring at the ceiling, voice thin. “The moot problem. The stress. Guess it got to me.” He pressed his free hand to his stomach, forcing the excuse to sound real. “Probably just gastritis from overthinking.”

Gemini studied him for a long, silent beat, clearly unconvinced. His eyes searched Fourth’s face as though trying to peel away the layers of his words and reach what was hidden underneath. But finally, he exhaled through his nose and nodded slowly. “If you say so.”

Still, his hand never left Fourth’s.

Fourth turned his head toward him, guilt curling low in his chest. He hated lying—especially to Gemini. But some part of him whispered that what he had seen wasn’t something he could explain. Not yet.

Fourth could tell immediately that Gemini didn’t buy it. The way his lips pressed into a thin line, the way his eyes lingered too long on his face, silently asking questions he didn’t voice—it was obvious. Gemini didn’t believe him.

But right now, Fourth didn’t care. He didn’t want explanations, or suspicion, or more questions he couldn’t answer. He just wanted to feel something solid, something warm, something that reminded him he was still here.

He tightened his grip on Gemini’s hand and turned toward him, voice barely above a whisper. “You know I love you, right?”

Gemini blinked, caught off guard by the sudden softness in his tone. “Of course I do,” he said, almost instantly, his expression gentling.

Before he could say more, Fourth leaned in and kissed him. It wasn’t urgent or heated, but searching—his way of grounding himself, of drowning out the echoes of the void with something that felt real. Gemini’s hand came up to cradle his cheek, steady, anchoring him as their lips lingered.

Just as Fourth let himself melt into Gemini’s warmth, the door creaked open.

Satang shuffled in, balancing two steaming mugs of chamomile tea, his expression a blend of mock annoyance and dramatic outrage. “Seriously?” he huffed, setting the cups down with a clink on the desk. “This is my room, my bed, and I would very much appreciate it if you two didn’t do anything not approved by God in my sacred space.”

Fourth jerked back from Gemini, his face heating up, while Gemini just smirked lazily, unbothered as always. “Relax, Saint Satang,” Gemini drawled, stretching his legs out comfortably on the mattress as though he owned it. “We were just… exchanging blessings.”

Satang rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder they didn’t stick. “Exchanging blessings, my ass.” He pointed a finger at Fourth. “And you—you’re sick. Drink this,” he shoved a cup toward him, “and sleep, don’t make me babysit both your love life AND your health.”

Fourth accepted the cup with a sheepish little nod, mumbling, “Thanks…” though his cheeks still burned.

Gemini, of course, raised his cup like a toast, completely unbothered. “To chamomile tea and God-approved activities,” he said with a grin.

“Get out,” Satang muttered, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips.

Fourth cradled the warm mug between his palms, the steam curling against his face, soothing even as embarrassment still clung to him. Gemini leaned back on the headboard like he lived there, sipping leisurely, while Satang perched at the edge of the desk, arms crossed like a disapproving parent.

“You know,” Satang started, tone sharp but eyes soft with worry, “most people don’t collapse dramatically in someone else’s bedroom. If you wanted attention, Fourth, there are easier ways.”

Fourth shot him a glare over the rim of his cup. “I didn’t collapse dramatically.”

Gemini snorted. “You kind of did. You were even vomiting for dramatic flair.”

Fourth groaned, burying half his face in the mug. “Why do I even like you two?”

“Because we’re irresistible,” Gemini said smoothly, reaching over to tuck a strand of hair behind Fourth’s ear, only for Satang to swat his hand away.

“Don’t start,” Satang warned, pointing at Gemini this time. “Not in my bed. Not in my room. Not in my lifetime if I can help it.”

Gemini smirked, unbothered. “You’re just jealous.”

Satang barked a laugh. “Jealous? Please. I’m the only sane one here. And unlike you two lovebirds, I actually need my bed for sleep, not…” He waved his hand vaguely, grimacing. “…whatever.”

Fourth let out a weak laugh despite himself, the knot of fear in his chest loosening just a little under their ridiculous back-and-forth. The tea was warm, the banter familiar, and for the first time since the void, he felt tethered again.

Fourth lifted his head from the mug just as Satang leaned against the doorframe, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Heads-up,” Satang said, voice half-serious, half-teasing. “Pond, Phuwin, and Mark are coming over. Don’t get too comfy in my sacred space.”

Fourth let out a soft, almost relieved sigh, glancing at Gemini’s warm hand in his.

“Guess… it’ll take my mind off things,” Fourth muttered quietly, mostly to himself, though Gemini heard it and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Satang raised an eyebrow questioning him.

Fourth let out a small, humorless laugh. “Just… my mind off the moot problem, it’s stressful.” He felt the familiar anxiety about the void lingering at the edges of his mind, but knowing the others were coming brought a strange comfort—a distraction, however fleeting, from the endless black he’d been haunted by.

Gemini rested his head lightly against Fourth’s shoulder.

.

.

The door slammed open and in spilled Pond, Phuwin, and Mark, each of them announcing themselves like a one-man marching band. Shoes clattered across the floor, bags dropped with thuds, and a chorus of greetings, shouts, and laughter instantly filled the apartment.

Pond grabbed the first cushion he saw and plopped onto it, nearly tipping over a side table. “Why is your couch so small?!” he exclaimed, pointing at Fourth and Gemini already settled comfortably.

Phuwin barged past him, balancing a backpack, a water bottle, and a half-eaten sandwich. “I got snacks!” he shouted, tossing a bag onto the coffee table where Mark immediately started digging through it, scattering crumbs everywhere.

Fourth groaned, covering his face with a hand, while Gemini clung a little tighter to him, giggling despite the chaos. Satang, already present in the room, threw his arms up in defeat. “I swear, this is my living room! This is my sacred space! CONTROL YOURSELVES!”

“Sacred space?” Mark mocked, plopping down on the floor next to Satang. “Dude, it’s a living room!”

Laughter, shouting, and the occasional crash of something falling echoed around the apartment. Fourth leaned back, closing his eyes for a moment, and let the whirlwind of noise and motion sweep over him. It was chaos—messy, loud, overwhelming—but there was life in it, warmth and energy that anchored him.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, Gemini pressed a soft kiss to Fourth’s shoulder, a quiet tether in the storm, and Fourth smiled.

.

.

Pond leaned in, fingers twitching. “Alright, alright, let’s see who’s got the steadiest hands!”

Phuwin, with a mischievous grin, whispered, “I hope nobody blinks. That’s how towers fall.”

Mark, squinting dramatically at the wooden blocks, carefully pulled one from the middle. “This is… delicate science,” he muttered, wobbling the tower slightly.

Satang groaned from his spot. “Guys, can we—no, stop pretending this is rocket science! It’s just Jenga!”

The Jenga tower sat precariously in the center of the living room table, wooden blocks stacked high, trembling slightly under the weight of anticipation. Fourth, Gemini, and Satang were gathered around it, while Pond, Phuwin, and Mark leaned over from their spots on the floor and the sofa, eyes glittering.

“Alright, I’m going in!” Pond declared, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He leaned over, hand hovering dramatically above the tower. “I am the master of balance, the king of steady hands.”

Fourth raised an eyebrow. “You say that every time, and every time you ruin it in five seconds.”

Pond waved him off. “Excuses, Fourth. Pure excuses.”

Phuwin snickered and nudged Mark. “Watch him crumble. I mean, the tower, not him… though maybe both.”

Mark squinted at the blocks like he was deciphering an ancient code. “I can do this. I am the chosen one,” he murmured, gingerly tugging at a middle block. The tower wobbled. Gemini squealed. “Careful! Careful! That’s… that’s… oh no!”

Fourth laughed, gripping Gemini’s arm to steady him from lunging at the table. “Gem, stop yelling!”

“Not helping!” Gemini shot back, still wide-eyed. “It’s going to fall!”

Satang groaned from the armrest. “Why am I even play this game with these maniacs?”

Phuwin leaned dramatically over the table, hand outstretched. “It’s fine. I’ve got this. I am the savior of the tower!” He yanked a block out like a magician revealing a trick. The tower teetered dangerously. Mark froze mid-motion, wide-eyed. “Uh… it’s fine, right?”

Pond gasped. “No! That’s illegal! That’s bending the rules!”

The tower wobbled like a live thing, blocks creaking. Gemini clutched Fourth’s arm again, “It’s going! Do something!”

Fourth grinned, shrugging helplessly. “Nothing to do but witness the inevitable.”

And then—BAM. The tower crashed in a spectacular cascade, blocks flying across the table, bouncing onto the floor, knocking over a mug of iced tea that luckily had been empty.

Everyone froze. Then the room erupted.

Phuwin threw himself back on the floor, groaning theatrically. “The tragedy! The absolute catastrophe!”

Pond flailed his arms, lamenting loudly. “I told you!”

Mark buried his face in his hands. “I was so close. And now it’s gone.”

Gemini threw himself against Fourth, laughing so hard he almost toppled over.

Satang, hands on hips, groaned. “I can’t… I can’t even. Are we adults? This is chaos. chaos!”

Fourth laughed, ruffling Gemini’s hair. “It’s perfect. Exactly what we needed.”

They rebuilt the tower with shaky hands, arguing over who would go first. Pond insisted on sitting cross-legged directly in front of it, practically breathing down the blocks. Phuwin crouched dramatically behind him, like a sniper awaiting his turn. Mark, still pale, hovered over the tower nervously, whispering to himself about angles and center of gravity.

Gemini leaned over Fourth, peering at the tower with furrowed brows. “You think I should go for the middle one or the bottom one?”

Fourth smirked. “Gem, if you even touch the bottom, I swear—”

Gemini wiggled his eyebrows, daring him. “Do it then.”

Satang rolled his eyes.

The game continued, laughter and squeals filling the apartment. Every block that wobbled made someone shriek, every successful pull was met with dramatic cheers or groans. Even Fourth, who usually approached games with a level-headed focus, found himself gasping and leaning in, holding his breath as Gemini carefully extracted a block without toppling the tower.

Hours—or maybe just minutes, time blurred—passed in this absurd, glorious chaos. Blocks flew, tower rebuilt, chaos reigned. Fourth caught glimpses of Gemini laughing so freely, Satang’s exasperated yet amused face, and the sheer goofiness of Pond, Phuwin, and Mark. In that whirlwind, the weight of dreams, voids, and nightmares fell away, leaving only laughter, shouts, and the shaky thrill of a wooden tower hanging by a thread.

The last block of the Jenga tower clattered to the floor for the fifth—or was it the sixth?—time, sending everyone into a fresh bout of laughter. Even Fourth had to admit, wiping tears from his eyes, that chaos had never been this fun.

Mark, however, flopped back on the sofa, arms crossed and a frown forming. “Ugh… you know what really irritates me?” he groaned, glaring at the ceiling.

Mark sat forward, elbows on his knees, eyes narrowing as if the universe itself had personally wronged him. “You know what really gets me?” he started, voice rising with every word. “It’s the complete lack of accountability! Professors changing deadlines last minute, marking criteria that make zero sense, emails disappearing into some black hole of bureaucracy, and don’t even get me started on group projects where people don’t do a damn thing!”

Pond groaned, covering his face with his hands. “Mark, please… take a breath.”

“No!” Mark shot back, waving a hand for emphasis. “I will speak my truth! Students are expected to perform miracles with zero guidance. Do they even remember what it’s like to be in our shoes?”

Phuwin leaned back, letting out a long, exaggerated sigh. “Mark, calm down. You’re gonna burn out if you keep yelling at invisible professors like that.”

Fourth, perched on the edge of the couch, rubbed his temples, though a small part of him couldn’t help being entertained. “You’ve got… passion,” he muttered dryly. “I’ll give you that.”

Gemini, still sprawled on the floor, tilted his head curiously. “Is… this how you usually cope? By destroying your vocal cords?”

Mark gestured wildly. “No, this is the only way! If I don’t rant, I’ll implode! It’s like a moral imperative to shout about every inefficiency!”

Satang groaned, throwing his hands in the air. “You’re lucky we like  you… or we’d banish you from the living room for life.”

Mark ignored him entirely, pacing a little and continuing his tirade, every word laced with righteous indignation. “And don’t get me started on the cafeteria food! How are we expected to function with soggy sandwiches and coffee that tastes like despair?”

Pond chuckled, shaking his head. “Mark, that’s such first world problems.”

Fourth just sighed, leaning back, watching his friends bicker away.

Mark slammed his hands on his knees, eyes blazing. “I’m telling you, I have to write a formal letter of complaint to the department about everything! It’s outrageous!”

Pond raised an eyebrow. “Mark… you? Writing a formal letter?”

“I know, I know,” Mark groaned, throwing his head back. “I’m an engineering student! The only letters I’m good at writing are variables, equations, and half-baked formulas! Forget it!”

Phuwin laughed, leaning back.

“No!” Mark snapped, narrowing his eyes. “I mean, I tried drafting something.” He pulls out his notes app, “Listen to this, ‘Dear Sir or Madam, I am writing to express my discontent…’” He paused, frowning. “…Wait, no. That’s too formal. Too boring. Or is it too sarcastic? Ugh, I can’t do this!”

Fourth smirked from his spot on the couch. “Engineering majors” he says sarcastically. 

Gemini giggled from the floor, nudging Satang. “He really is trying his best, isn’t he?”

Mark’s hands hovered mid-air, a sudden desperation in his eyes as they flicked toward Gemini. “Wait—you! You write… well…you are the best writer I know” His voice cracked with a mix of hope and panic. “Please… can you write it for me? Just… help me make it sound… official?”

Gemini blinked, caught off guard, his usual smirk faltering. “Me?”

“Yes!” Mark practically lunged toward him, eyes wide, pleading. “I can’t! Not words that won’t make me sound like a complete fool!”

Fourth, lounging on the couch, raised an eyebrow, utterly surprised. “Wait… Gemini… you’re good at writing?” he murmured to himself, tilting his head. He hadn’t known. The thought made him grin slightly—this was news.

Gemini’s lips curved into a small smile, amused by Mark’s dramatic plea. “Fine,” he said slowly, almost teasingly. “I’ll do it… but only if you promise to stop pacing around like a caffeinated squirrel every time you try to write.”

Mark’s relief was palpable, almost visible, like a weight lifting off his shoulders. “I promise! Anything! Thank you! You’re a lifesaver!”

Fourth shook his head, still a little incredulous, muttering under his breath, “I had no idea…”

Gemini plopped onto the floor, crossing his legs, the borrowed pen from Satang poised above the crisp sheet of paper. “Okay, engineering genius, don’t look too close,” he teased, glancing at Mark, who was hovering nervously over the coffee table. “I’ll make this letter make sense, unlike some of your projects.”

Mark grimaced, muttering, “Just… make it professional. I don’t want them thinking I’m an idiot.”

Fourth leaned back against the couch, watching with an amused grin.

Pond and Phuwin were perched around the table, leaning in, trying not to giggle. “This is better than half my language lectures,” Phuwin whispered. “Way more dramatic, too.”

Gemini dipped the pen and started writing, scratching words with confident, deliberate strokes. “You’ll sound articulate, Mark, trust me,” he said, barely looking up. “Professional, concise, and firm. Basically, everything you’re not when you talk.”

Mark watched, wide-eyed, as Gemini’s hand danced across the paper. “Are… are you seriously putting… fancy words in there?” he asked, panic edging his voice.

“Absolutely,” Gemini replied, still focused. “If you’re going to complain, do it properly. No sloppy letters on my watch.”

Fourth shook his head, grinning.

Minutes ticked by, filled with the quiet scratch of pen on paper, interspersed with Mark’s nervous sighs and Pond’s muffled snickers. “Don’t say that phrase!” Mark suddenly hissed. “They’ll think I’m completely insane!”

Gemini smirked, glancing up briefly. “Relax. They’ll respect you… just a little fear never hurt anyone.”

Fourth’s eyes narrowed as he watched Gemini’s pen glide over the paper. There was something about the way the letters formed—the loops, the sharp angles,—it tugged at a distant memory, nagging at the edge of his mind.

“Wait…” he muttered under his breath, leaning closer. “That… that handwriting…”

He couldn’t quite place it at first, but the feeling was unmistakable, it was eerily familiar. He’d seen Gemini write before, because it resembled… something else. Something he couldn’t entirely explain. The shapes of the letters, the rhythm of the writing… it resonated with the edges of his memory of the glass box, of the scribbled pages in the void, the frantic scrawls he had glimpsed in his dreams.

His stomach tightened. “No… that can’t be…” he whispered, heart skipping. The familiarity was unsettling, almost uncanny.

Chapter Text

He tried to shake the thought, telling himself it was just a coincidence, but the nagging unease lingered. Every stroke of Gemini’s pen felt heavier now, with a weight Fourth couldn’t ignore.

Fourth’s chest tightened, and his hands began to shake. The eerie familiarity of Gemini’s handwriting had unspooled all the calm he’d clung to.

“Satang… give me another sheet of paper. Now,” he demanded, voice tight, almost trembling. Satang froze, eyes wide, unsure whether to protest or comply, but he quickly handed over a blank sheet, sensing the gravity in Fourth’s tone.

Fourth turned to Gemini, eyes wide, almost desperate. “Gem… write my name. Just... Please.” His voice cracked slightly, betraying the panic he was trying so hard to hide.

Gemini blinked at him, a frown knitting his brows, but he obediently took the pen, placing it carefully against the blank sheet. He wrote slowly, deliberately, his hand smooth and precise, the letters forming with that same rhythm and sway Fourth had recognized.

Fourth’s breathing hitched as he stared. Each letter pressed into the paper felt like a hammer against his chest. He could hardly bring himself to speak, words caught somewhere between fear, disbelief, and the raw pull of revelation. “Yes… yes, that’s it…” he whispered, voice low, trembling

Fourth’s panic ratcheted higher. His mind spun in loops he couldn’t control. How… how had he never noticed Gemini’s handwriting before? He’d spent countless hours with him, yet somehow, it had never clicked.

“Gem… how—how…?” he stammered, voice cracking. He could barely form a coherent sentence, the paper trembling in front of him. His eyes flicked between Gemini’s hand and the letters forming on the page, and every stroke felt like a jolt to his chest.

Gemini looked up, frowning, confused by the intensity of Fourth’s reaction. “What… what’s wrong?”

Fourth could only shake his head, a strangled laugh escaping him. “I… I don’t understand… I’ve never… ever… How… how do I know this handwriting?” His voice was almost a whisper, raw and shaky.

Fourth stumbled backward in his chair, his hands clenching at his hair as if he could pull the realization out of his head. “No… no… this isn’t real… you… you’re the ‘boy’…” His voice cracked, trembling with a mix of awe, fear, and disbelief.

Gemini froze, pen hovering midair, eyes wide with concern. “Fourth… what are you saying? Calm down,” he urged gently, trying not to startle him further.

“I… I saw you… in the glass box… in the void…” Fourth’s words tumbled out in a frantic rush. “The boy… you were crying and writing… and it was you… it’s always been you!” He gasped, tears starting to form, his entire body vibrating with panic. “You… you’re the one controlling everything! Me… us… everything we do…”

Satang shifted uncomfortably on the couch, clearly bewildered. “Fourth… slow down. What are you talking about?”

Fourth shook his head violently, unable to focus on Satang. All he could see was Gemini—the gentle, teasing, infuriatingly perfect Gemini—whose pen strokes had just confirmed the impossible truth. “I… I don’t know how… why… you’re… you’re the one! The one in the glass box! The boy I see in my dreams!” His voice cracked, almost a scream. “And I’ve been… I’ve been living inside your story!”

Pond and Phuwin exchanged nervous glances. “Fourth… slow down, man,”

Fourth’s panic didn’t abate. He turned sharply toward Gemini, voice cracking. “It’s your handwriting! The same one from the glass box! The boy in my dreams—you’re him! You’re the author!”

Gemini’s hand hovered in the air, unsure whether to reach out. “Fourth… it’s not like that… I—”

Fourth’s gaze stayed fixed on Gemini, “You… you’re real, right? This isn’t… this can’t be real…”

Gemini finally set the pen down and moved a cautious step closer. “I’m still here, Fourth. I’m still me. You’re still you,” he said, voice gentle but firm. “Everything you feel… it’s yours.”

Fourth’s chest heaved. The rest of the gang exchanged bewildered, awkward looks, unsure how to react to the conversation unfolding before them. Pond scratched his head. “Uh… do we just… leave them alone?”

Mark slowly shook his head no, “let’s just give them some space”.

Fourth’s mind spun faster than the world around him. Every tiny moment of uncanny knowledge Gemini had displayed came rushing back—his house password, the exact way Fourth liked his coffee, his mother’s favorite dishes… all the little details he had brushed off as coincidence or Gemini just being observant.

How had he missed it all? How had he not seen the threads connecting every small, seemingly innocent act?

He pressed his face into his hands, chest tightening, heart hammering. “It all makes sense now… it was always you,” he whispered, voice raw.

“How… how did I not see it?!” Fourth’s panic bubbled up again. He backed away slightly, trying to shake the thoughts, but each memory only tethered him tighter to the realization. The boy in the glass box, the author in the void… it was Gemini.

And somewhere beneath the terror, beneath the disbelief, a trembling part of him marveled at his utter stupidity, he had never imagined someone could know him so completely… so intimately… and yet, he had walked right past it, blind.

His gaze snapped to Gemini, who watched him with quiet patience, his hand still resting in Fourth’s.

Fourth’s hands shook as he pulled away from Gemini, the pen Gemini had been using to write clattering to the floor. His voice cracked, but the words tore out anyway, jagged and raw.

“You liar.” His eyes burned, his chest heaved as if every breath were dragging splinters into his lungs. “All this time—you’ve been lying to me.”

The room went still. Pond, Phuwin, and Mark exchanged uneasy glances, but nobody dared to interrupt.

Fourth’s mind screamed, every memory cutting sharper than the last. “My password. My mom’s food. Things I never told you—things you couldn’t have possibly known. I thought—” His throat closed, forcing him to swallow the lump of betrayal that choked him. “I thought it was just you being… you. But it wasn’t. You were hiding this from me.”

His voice broke on the last word. He felt exposed, like every fragile corner of his life had been cracked open under Gemini’s hands, under the boy he loved, under the boy who—no, the author who had written him.

Gemini’s lips parted, but Fourth cut him off, stepping back with trembling fists. “Don’t. Don’t you dare try to make excuses. You’ve been inside my head from the beginning, haven’t you? You’ve been—controlling everything.” His voice rose, thick with hurt. “And you let me believe this was real—us—when all along, I was just—just a story to you.”

His chest caved in as if the words themselves crushed him. He felt sick, hollow, and utterly betrayed.

Gemini’s eyes flickered with something —regret, sorrow, longing—but Fourth couldn’t even bring himself to look too closely. His whole world tilted.

“Why, Gemini?” Fourth’s voice broke into a whisper, his face pale, eyes wet. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gemini’s shoulders shook violently, tears streaking down his face as he dropped to his knees, hands reaching out toward Fourth. “I’m so sorry! I—please, you have to believe me! I love you, Fourth! I’ve always loved you!”

His voice cracked, desperate and raw, spilling over with emotion Fourth had never heard so fully. “I never wanted to hurt you! I just… I didn’t know how! I thought if I told you, you’d—”

Fourth’s heart clenched, the intensity of Gemini’s tears and trembling making it impossible to stay angry, even as the sense of betrayal pulsed through him. Gemini’s voice grew frantic, almost begging, “Please… please don’t push me away! I’m yours, only yours. I swear! I never lied about my feelings!”

The room fell silent except for the sound of Gemini’s sobs, echoing off the walls, and Fourth wanted to run, to scream, to cry… but more than anything, he wanted to hold Gemini and make everything okay.

Fourth’s chest tightened as he struggled to catch his breath, staring at Gemini with wide, searching eyes. “Explain… everything,” he demanded, voice trembling. “I need to know how you—how any of this—makes sense.”

Gemini’s hands shook as he clutched Fourth’s knees, tears still streaming freely. “I… I don’t fully understand it myself,” he admitted, voice breaking. “In the real world… we were best friends, Fourth. You… you died. It was sudden, and I—” He choked, shaking his head, the words spilling out in jagged fragments. “I was devastated. I couldn’t… I couldn’t accept it. And somehow… somehow, I wrote a story. A story where you were alive. And… and it—” He swallowed hard, tears blurring his vision. “It became real. I don’t know how, but it did. You’re here… because of me. I didn’t mean to… to manipulate you… I just… I wanted you back.”

Fourth’s mind whirled, trying to process the confession. The pieces fell into place in a horrifying, beautiful, and utterly ridiculous puzzle, every time Gemini knew something about him, every secret, every instinctual understanding—it was all tied to this story.

He could feel the betrayal, the awe, and the heartbreak all at once. “I died? You… you brought me back?” he whispered, voice raw. “You—Gemini, this is insane. I don’t… I don’t know what to think.”

“I know,” Gemini sobbed, pressing his forehead against Fourth’s. “I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I just… I couldn’t live without you, Fourth. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by their ragged breaths and the soft whimpers of Gemini.

Fourth’s gaze snapped from Gemini to the rest of the group—Satang, Mark, Phuwin, and Pond. His chest tightened, and the air around him felt suddenly thin, as if the very room had shrunk. He searched their faces for any flicker of surprise, some hint that they too had been caught off guard by Gemini’s confession.

But there was none.

Satang’s brows were furrowed, calculating, as if he were weighing every word and gesture Fourth made. Mark’s jaw was tight, lips pressed into a thin line, Phuwin sat upright, hands clasped in front of him, eyes fixed on Fourth with unmistakable concern. Pond’s posture was rigid, shoulders tense, and his face carried a silent vigilance, every muscle alert as if ready to intervene.

None of them flinched. None of them blinked in shock. None of them looked like ordinary students caught in a sudden, unbelievable revelation. They didn’t gasp, or widen their eyes, or freeze. They simply… were.

Fourth’s stomach dropped. His hands curled into fists, and a sharp pang of betrayal hit him. How could they not be surprised? Every instinct told him that what Gemini had just revealed should have been earth-shattering, that this kind of truth should knock the wind out of anyone. But they… they acted like it was expected, like they had known all along.

The panic clawed at him. His mind scrambled, trying to reconcile the fact that the friends he had laughed with, studied with, and trusted implicitly—had never truly been in the same reality as he thought. The certainty he had clung to, the fragile sense of understanding about the world, dissolved.

Fourth felt his throat tighten. “You… knew,” he whispered, voice low and shaking, almost to himself. “All of you…” His gaze darted from Satang to Mark, to Phuwin, to Pond.

The room, once familiar and safe, felt suddenly alien. The walls pressed closer, the air grew heavier, and Fourth’s chest rose and fell in uneven gasps.

Satang leaned back slightly, hands resting calmly on his knees, eyes looking at Fourth with concern. “Yes, we knew,” he said, his tone even, measured. “But it’s not like you think.”

Mark spoke next, voice low but firm. “We weren’t hiding it to mess with you, Fourth. It wasn’t about keeping you in the dark for fun. Things… are more complicated than that.”

Phuwin chimed in, soft but deliberate. “We wanted to protect you. To let you figure some of it out for yourself. Rushing you into the truth wouldn’t have helped.”

Pond added, quiet but cutting through the tension. “It’s not a game, Fourth. There are reasons you weren’t told everything immediately. Some things you needed to realize on your own.”

Fourth’s chest tightened, his mind whirling. “But… all this time… I thought I was alone in knowing, that I was the only one aware. I thought… everyone else was—was just following the story!”

Satang’s gaze softened fractionally, “You assumed too much, Fourth. Yes, we knew, but not in the way you’re imagining. No one was just acting like an NPC. We’re… aware in our own ways. And we’ve been careful, letting you come to terms with it at your own pace.”

The weight of their words pressed down on him, simultaneously easing some tension and deepening his confusion. Fourth felt a mix of relief and frustration, and betrayal .

He took a shaky breath. “So… you were watching, but… not for the reasons I thought?”

Mark nodded, eyes steady. “Exactly…we will explain I promise”

Fourth’s eyes flicked back to Gemini, whose shoulders shook as he knelt on the floor, tears streaking his face. His hands fisted into the hem of his shirt, trying to ground himself as sobs wracked his small frame. “I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean—Fourth, I love you, I love you so much,” Gemini choked out between desperate gasps, his voice cracking with the raw weight of emotion.

Fourth’s chest tightened at the sight, a jumble of anger, betrayal, and protectiveness flooding through him. Part of him wanted to scream at Gemini, to demand why he had hidden so much, but another part—an undeniable, aching part—wanted to pull him close, to stop the tears and shield him from the weight of the world.

Satang, Mark, Phuwin, and Pond remained still, watching the scene with grave concern.

Fourth’s voice wavered as he finally spoke, softer now, a mix of disbelief and concern. “ I need you to… tell me everything. I need to understand.”

Chapter Text

Fourth’s voice wavered as he finally spoke, softer now, a mix of disbelief and concern. “ I need you to… tell me everything. I need to understand.”

Gemini’s sobs didn’t stop immediately, but he nodded vigorously, biting his lip to stifle the raw sound of his grief.

“You… you’re not—” he choked, words catching in his throat. “You’re not characters? You… you knew?”

“Yes,” Satang said quietly, voice almost breaking. “We knew. But it’s… not how you think.”

Fourth’s stomach twisted. “Not how I think? How could it not be like I think?! I—” His hands trembled, claws gripping at the edge of the table. “All this time… I thought I was going crazy. That I was alone. That none of you… none of you were real!”

Phuwin stepped forward, eyes heavy. “We’re real, Fourth. All of us. Just like Gemini. We were… your friends in the real world. Before—before you… left us.”

The word “left” cut like a blade. Fourth’s throat tightened, breath stuttering. “You… y?” His voice wavered, cracking. “And I—” He couldn’t finish. He felt a strangling mix of grief, and anger. “I thought you were just… part of the story! That I had no one!”

Fourth’s ears rang with the weight of silence for a heartbeat before Satang’s voice cracked, raw and trembling. “We… we missed you so much, Fourth. Every single day. After… after it happened, it felt like the world just… hollowed out.”

Mark’s hands fisted in his lap, knuckles white, eyes glistening. “I’d lie awake at night, thinking about you. Wondering what you were doing, what we were missing… It was unbearable. And when we heard what Gemini could do, we… we didn’t know if it was even possible to get you back.”

Phuwin’s voice broke into sobs. “It hurt. God, it hurt. To lose you and not be able to tell you how much you meant to us, to not even see your stupid grin or hear you complain about the smallest things…” He pressed a hand over his mouth, shaking. “We were empty without you.”

Pond’s expression was strained, eyes shimmering with tears. “We missed you every single second. We kept your memory alive in every little thing, and when we saw what Gemini could do… we prayed, begged him to let us meet you. We couldn’t bear being apart from you again.”

The tears he had been holding back finally broke free. Fourth’s hands shook violently, his knees threatening to buckle. “All this time… all the things I thought I had to figure out alone… you knew. You all knew! And you—” He couldn’t stop the sob that ripped from his chest. “And you let me suffer!”

Pond’s voice was low, steady, but laden with pain. “We couldn’t tell you, Fourth. It wasn’t our choice. We had to wait. We couldn’t risk—”

Fourth slammed a hand onto the table, his chest heaving.

Satang took a careful step closer, placing a tentative hand on Fourth’s shoulder. “We loved you too much to ruin... To interfere. To hurt you in ways we couldn’t control.”

Fourth’s entire body trembled. He sank into the floor, sobbing openly now, the weight of months of isolation and terror crushing him in waves.

Fourth’s hands trembled as he cupped Gemini’s face, wiping away the tears streaking down his cheeks. Gemini’s sobs rattled through him, ragged and desperate, and Fourth felt a hollow ache deep in his chest.

And then, in the sharpest, cruelest instant, it dawned on him. The truth hit like a punch to the gut, he wasn’t  Gemini’s Fourth—the one that Gemini was crying, pleading, loving so fiercely—wasn’t real Fourth. He wasn’t the real Fourth.

Every look, every touch, every word... was a reflection of someone who had existed, someone who had died. His mind spun, unsteady, grappling with the impossible realization.

He gripped Gemini’s face tighter, desperate for grounding, desperate to feel real in this impossible moment. And yet, the realization gnawed at him, bitter and unrelenting, he was a shadow of a person who had been loved beyond measure, and the depth of that love now fell entirely on him, a being who shouldn’t exist in the way he did.

Fourth’s knees weakened, and he leaned closer, forehead resting against Gemini’s, both of them trembling. Tears mingled, breaths shuddering, and the gut-wrenching truth settled deep in him.

Fourth’s chest heaved, and hot tears streamed down his face as he pulled back slightly, still holding onto Gemini’s trembling hands. His voice cracked, raw and trembling, each word drenched in pain.

“No… you’re all confused” he cried softly, his gaze darting between Gemini, Satang, Pond, Phuwin, and Mark. “I’m not… your Fourth. I am Fourth in this story, in this... I—” He choked on a sob, clutching at his chest as if trying to hold himself together. “I’m not the person you lost… I’m not him! You’re just… using me as a replacement! Treating me like someone I’m not!”

Gemini’s tears only worsened, his shoulders shaking violently. “No, no! You’re real to me! You’re all I have!”

But Fourth shook his head violently, tears splashing down onto Gemini’s hands. “It’s… it’s cruel! You’re forcing me to be someone else, to live a life that’s not mine, and you… you don’t even see me! You’re loving a ghost through me, treating me like the person who’s gone… and it’s tearing me apart!”

He stumbled back, hands clutching his hair, gasping for air as the weight of their expectations and grief pressed down on him. The room felt impossibly small, suffocating, and every sob, every pleading glance from Gemini and the others hit him like a hammer.

“I… I can’t be him!” Fourth whispered, almost to himself, his voice breaking. “I’m me… but you’re all treating me like I’m someone else… I’m not your Fourth!”

Fourth’s hands trembled as he gripped Gemini’s shoulders, shaking him lightly, desperate for understanding. “Gem… you don’t get it! Those other versions of me—the ones in the glass boxes in the void… did you… did you write them?”

Gemini’s face went pale, confusion and panic flaring in his eyes. “I… I don’t know what you’re talking about! Glass boxes? Void? I… I haven’t—”

The realization piled through him like fire, Gemini had probably written him, every preference, every laugh and sigh, without detail. His friends, the ones he thought were unaware, had carried the same knowledge in silence, letting him exist in their constructed reality, while Fourth believed he was living his own life. And the glass boxes—the endless rows of Fourths erased to make this one “real”—the horror of it made his stomach lurch. He could feel the cold weight of loss pressing against him, a phantom limb of grief for lives that had never truly been his to live.

Anger surged, sharp and burning. “How… how could you—” His voice broke, then choked, tears spilling freely. “How could you do this? Make me… make me into someone I’m not?” The words trembled on his lips, barely audible above the crashing of his own thoughts.

And yet, beneath the fury, beneath the gut-wrenching betrayal, there was Gemini. Real, trembling, tears streaking down his face, pleading. “I love you… I didn’t mean—”

Fourth’s heart fractured in a new way, twisting between rage and aching recognition. He wanted to push Gemini away, to shield himself from this cruel reality. But a part of him—a raw, human thread—wanted to collapse into those arms, to cling to the one thing that was undeniably alive, undeniably present.

He sank lower, trembling uncontrollably. His mind screamed, body shook, and yet, through it all, his fingers found Gemini’s, gripping tightly. Conflicted, shattered, and raw, Fourth realized that even amidst all of this betrayal, even as the world he knew tilted and fractured, he could not deny the stubborn love he had for Gemini. He hated it.

It didn’t feel like just betrayal—it was the scale, the enormity of it. His vision blurred, tears mixing with the sweat on his cheeks, each heartbeat a hammer driving the pain of it deeper into him.

“Why… why did you do this to me?” His voice cracked, small and ragged, breaking under the pressure of anguish. The room felt too bright, too small, too unbearably close. He wanted to flee, to vanish into some corner where the world couldn’t touch him, but his limbs refused to obey.

And Gemini—Gemini’s tears, wet and urgent on his cheeks, the desperate pleading in his voice—tore something open inside him. “I love you, you promised! You said it yourself, Fourth! You said you’d always be here, with me. You swore!” Gemini sobbed, voice breaking with raw pain.

“You can’t—” he choked on the words, voice breaking. “You can’t keep saying that… that I promised you I’d never leave! That was before I knew any of this!”

Gemini’s hands fell to his sides for a moment, his body trembling, eyes searching Fourth’s. “I… I need you to try. Please… I love you.”

It was supposed to be comforting, grounding, in fact it would have been if he heard it yesterday—but instead it was excruciating. Fourth’s mind twisted in spirals, the person in front of him loved him, yet it was the love meant for someone else.

His fingers shook violently as they found Gemini’s, gripping desperately, knuckles white, as though anchoring himself to a single undeniable truth could keep the chaos from consuming him.

He wanted to scream, to throw himself away from this cruel mirage, to demand answers—

Fourth pulled back violently, tears spilling down his cheeks. “You… you can’t! You’re all… you’re all pretending that this… that I’m him!”

Satang stepped forward, trembling visibly, voice low but breaking under the strain. “Fourth… I love you. Every day we waited, every night we feared… it was all for you. You’re here now. That’s all that matters. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.”

Fourth’s chest heaved with raw, ragged breaths, his knees threatening to buckle. “It’s not fair! You… all of you… you’re…so selfish!”

Mark’s voice cracked as he fell to his knees, gripping Fourth’s hands. “I love you! I’ve loved you, every single day… and even if it’s not the Fourth we lost, it’s still you. Please… don’t push us away!”

Phuwin’s tears fell freely, shaking with sobs. “I… I can’t stop missing you… not now, not ever! We were empty without you! And even if you’re… different… even if you’re not him… you’re still here, and that’s enough for me!”

Pond’s rigid composure shattered entirely, voice trembling with raw emotion. “You’ve been through hell, Fourth… and yet, you’re still here. We love you. All of us. We love you, even like this. Even now.”

Fourth threw his hands into the air, voice rising, raw and hoarse from sobbing. “I… I am not him! I can’t be him! I’m me! And you… you’re loving someone who doesn’t exist anymore through me! You’re forcing me to carry a grief that’s not mine, a love that’s not mine, and it’s……you all will never move on if you keep doing this.”

The room seemed to close in, a suffocating cage of light and sound and emotion. Fourth’s vision swam with tears, heart pounding like it would tear itself apart, lungs burning as he gasped and trembled.

Fourth’s voice wavered, cracked, almost swallowed by the weight of everything he’d just learned. “My… my mother… does she know?” His hands clenched in, nails digging into his palms as if the pain could steady the chaos in his chest. His heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic drum that seemed too loud, too raw.

Gemini nodded slowly, tears still streaking his face. “Yes… she’s your mother too… from the real world… she wanted to her son too.”

Fourth’s chest constricted, hot and heavy. The words cut deeper than any accusation, any betrayal. So that is why his mother was attached to Gemini, caring for him, fussing over him as if he were her son. He remembered every gentle touch Gemini had received from her, every smile she had given him that had felt almost… personal. At the time, he had shrugged it off, thought she was being kind to a boy she knew would be her son’s boyfriend. But now… now it all made sense.

She had loved Gemini because of what he had done. Because he had let her see Fourth again—even if it wasn’t him. Even if the boy smiling, laughing, sitting across from her, was only a shadow of her son.

The revelation made his chest ache in a way that was almost unbearable, a mixture of sorrow, awe, and a strange, hollow relief. He pressed his forehead against Gemini’s, voice trembling. “Oh… that’s… that’s why… that’s why she…” His words faltered, choked by emotion.

Fourth pressed a hand to his face, stifling a sob, his chest heaving with disbelief. Every memory of his mother’s joy, every lingering look of pride or relief, every anxious hug he had observed from a distance—it wasn’t random, it wasn’t casual. It had all been Gemini, orchestrated out of love and longing, a way to let her feel her son again, even if only through someone who looked like him.

“And she… she thought I was him,” Fourth whispered, voice raw, trembling. “Even though… I’m not. I’m just… me. A copy. And she… loved him. Or… me. Or both. I don’t even know anymore.”

Gemini nodded in denial, clutching him tight. “I love you, Fourth. I always have. And I… I think she loves you too… in the way she can.”

Gemini’s tears streaked his face as he whispered, “I didn’t know how else… I just wanted her to see you again. I wanted you… I wanted all of you back.”

His hands fisted Gemini’s shoulders, trembling, as if holding on could somehow anchor him in a world that suddenly felt too fragile, too impossible. “I… I can’t…” Fourth choked out, voice breaking, tears spilling freely. “I’m not… I’m not supposed to exist like this!”

Fourth’s vision blurred, chest tightening so sharply he thought he might die. The weight of their grief, their love, their longing, and the impossibility of his existence pressed down on him like stones. He felt like a phantom, a cruel echo of someone who had once been loved, now carrying the unbearable burden of that love in a body that wasn’t fully his.

“I… I… I don’t deserve this,” he whispered, voice hoarse, trembling violently.

Gemini’s lips trembled violently, tears streaming, and he pressed his forehead to Fourth’s, whispering through gasps, “No! You’re you! You’re real to me! I don’t care about what was lost! I love you! I love you! You’re all I have! The one I love is you!”

Fourth’s body shook uncontrollably, he screamed—raw, agonized scream that seemed to shatter the air around them. His heart was raw, his mind teetering on the edge of despair, yet buried in the scream was something else, the desperate, impossible need to be understood.

Gemini, Satang, Mark, Pond, and Phuwin all collapsed around him, weeping, trembling,

Fourth’s body shuddered uncontrollably, tears soaking his clothes, his sobs racking him like a storm.

Gemini’s hands cupped his face, thumbs brushing against wet cheeks. “I don’t care who you were supposed to be. You’re here. You’re real. You’re you. And that’s enough. You’re mine, my Fourth.”

Fourth’s lips quivered, the words cutting through the storm in his chest. A small, ragged breath escaped him.

Phuwin’s voice broke as he pressed a hand to Fourth’s back. “We’re not asking you to replace anyone. We’re not asking you to be someone you’re not. Just… be here. Be you. That’s all we want.”

Satang shook his head in agreement, trembling despite his usual composure.

Fourth’s chest heaved violently. It tore at him, shredded the last walls he had built to protect himself from the impossible. And slowly—agonizingly—he let a single sob slip past his lips, then another, then another, the storm inside him meeting the storm of their affection outside him.

He looked at Gemini, seeing not a ghost of the past but a boy—trembling, vulnerable, aching—who loved him fiercely and wholly. “I… I don’t know if I can… if I can bear it,” he whispered, voice trembling with the edge of despair and hope at once.

Gemini pressed his forehead further to Fourth’s. “You don’t have to bear it alone. We’re here. All of us. And we love you.”

Fourth’s collapsed into Gemini’s arms, sobbing, shaking, trembling as the truth pressed in from every side, he was not the Fourth they had lost, yet he was here, and in this impossible, fragile existence, he was loved.

Fourth’s sobs began to slow, ragged and uneven, though his body still trembled. Gemini’s arms held him tight, a lifeline against the doubt and despair that still clawed at his chest.

Satang’s hands rested on his shoulders, gentle but insistent.

Mark’s voice, quiet and raw, added, “We love you, not a memory, not a ghost. You. The you in front of us.”

Phuwin’s tears still streaked down his face, but his eyes were steady. “We know it’s hard. We know it’s unfair. But we’re here. Every step, every tear… we’ll meet you there.”

Fourth’s breath hitched, and for the first time, he let himself really look at them—at the raw sincerity in their eyes, the vulnerability of their words, the depth of the love pressing in around him. It was overwhelming, terrifying, and yet… somehow it was real.

Pond’s voice was softer than a whisper, yet it cut straight through the storm. “Even if it hurts. Even if it’s confusing. We love you. We always will.”

He closed his eyes against the flood of emotion, shaking his head slightly. “I… I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll never be enough... and I am just preventing you from moving on”

Gemini pressed his forehead to Fourth’s, lips trembling. “You’re more than enough. You’re everything to me. To all of us. You don’t have to be anyone else. You’re already everything we need.”

A tremor ran through Fourth as he let a shaky, halfhearted laugh escape—a laugh that was more a sob disguised as sound. 

Gemini’s hands tightened around his, tears spilling freely again. “Just… stay here with me. That’s all I ask. That’s all we ever wanted.”

Chapter Text

Gemini could still remember that night with painful clarity. The world had blurred around him as he rushed through the sliding doors of the hospital, chest heaving, lungs burning, every step fueled by a desperate prayer. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking, his phone clenched so tightly it dug crescents into his palm.

Gemini’s heart had dropped the moment he heard the news of the accident. It was as if the ground had been pulled from beneath his feet, the world tilting violently off its axis. His breath caught in his throat, a sharp, suffocating weight pressing down on his chest. He didn’t think, didn’t pause—he just ran, every muscle in his body moving on instinct, driven by one thought only, Fourth.

By the time he reached the hospital, his pulse was a roar in his ears. His mind was chaos, images flashing unbidden—Fourth lying broken, bleeding, gone—and Gemini crushed them down with a desperation that burned. He prayed with every step, his words frantic and uneven, half-choked by sobs he didn’t have time to release. Please let him be okay. Please don’t take him away from me.

Even now, remembering it, Gemini could feel the cold sweat on his skin, the way his hands shook so badly he could barely press the elevator button.

He remembered whispering—no, begging—under his breath as if God might listen if he said it enough times. Please. Please let Fourth be okay. Please don’t take him away.

The sterile white lights above him buzzed faintly, but all Gemini could hear was the pounding of his own heartbeat, the echo of his shoes against the polished floor, and the sound of his own voice repeating those frantic prayers.

When he reached the reception desk, the words tangled in his throat. His chest ached with a fear so raw it felt like it might split him in half. He could barely force out Fourth’s name, and when he did, it came out as a plea instead of a question—because he didn’t just want to know where Fourth was, he wanted assurance that he was still there.

Gemini burst into the emergency ward, chest on fire, throat raw from running, but he didn’t even notice the ache in his body—because all he could see were the faces waiting for him. Pond, Phuwin, Satang, Mark, and Fourth’s mom stood frozen together like statues. No one spoke. No one moved. Their eyes were red, their lips trembling, and the silence between them was louder than any scream.

One look was all it took. The bottom dropped out of his world.

His heart plummeted, a sickening, crushing drop that stole the ground out from under him. His legs buckled violently, and he collapsed to the cold floor, the tiles biting against his knees. His chest heaved, but no air came. The world blurred at the edges, spinning and tilting as panic swallowed him whole.

“No—no, please, no—” The words tore out of him, strangled and desperate. His hands clawed at his hair, his clothes, the air itself as though he could rip the nightmare away with sheer force. Tears streamed hot and unchecked, his sobs breaking into raw, animal sounds that didn’t even feel human anymore. He bent forward, rocking, shaking, choking on his own wails.

It felt like something inside him was being torn apart piece by piece. His vision blackened at the edges, and the only thing anchoring him was the agony in his chest, the violent thud of a heart that wanted to break free from his ribs. Every thought screamed Fourth’s name. Every breath was a prayer turned into a howl of grief.

He wanted to run through the doors, tear past the doctors, scream until the world gave him back what it had taken—but his body refused to move. He was trapped in that moment, shattered on the floor, drowning in terror, as the people around him could only watch him unravel.

Mark crouched first, reaching out with trembling hands, his own face wet with tears. “Gem—” he whispered, voice breaking as he tried to steady him, to anchor him back to reality.

But the moment Gemini felt the brush of fingers on his shoulder, he flinched violently, shoving him back with a raw, desperate strength. “Don’t—don’t touch me!”

His words dissolved into a choked sob, his throat closing around the weight of it. He clutched at his chest, nails digging into his own skin, as if he could physically claw out the pain before it consumed him.

He pressed his palms over his ears, shaking his head violently like a child refusing to listen, rocking forward until his forehead touched the floor. His sobs came in convulsions, every sound drenched in terror and disbelief.

The others froze, torn between rushing to him and being shattered by the sight. Pond had his face buried in his hands, Phuwin bit his lip so hard he tasted blood, Satang’s jaw trembled as silent tears spilled freely. And Fourth’s mother—her hand hovered in the air, suspended between wanting to comfort and knowing that to Gemini, comfort felt like admitting the worst had already happened.

Gemini forced himself to stand the day of the funeral, though every step felt like he was carrying a weight too heavy for his body. His eyes were swollen from nights without sleep, his chest hollow from crying until he had nothing left—but still, he straightened his back, wiped his face, and told himself he had to endure. Not for himself. Not for Fourth. But for her.

Fourth’s mother.

When he saw her sitting there, dressed in black, her hands trembling in her lap as she stared at the framed photo of her son, Gemini’s heart broke all over again. She looked smaller somehow, fragile in a way he had never seen before. And in that moment, his own grief—crushing, suffocating as it was—seemed insignificant compared to hers.

Gemini swallowed the lump in his throat, forcing his own tears back down. He wanted to scream, to collapse, to tear the world apart for taking Fourth away. But he couldn’t. Fourth would never forgive him if he made her pain heavier than it already was. He had lost his best friend, the person who made his world brighter. But she had lost her only son, her baby boy. That was a pain beyond comparison.

So he sat beside her quietly, slipping his hand into hers. He didn’t speak, because there were no words big enough for what they both had lost. All he could do was hold her hand, steady and firm, silently promising that he would not let her carry this weight alone. Even if his own chest was torn apart, even if his soul was screaming, he would be strong—for her.

Because that’s what Fourth would have wanted.

The day of the cremation was suffocatingly heavy. The temple grounds were filled with mourners dressed in black, their faces etched with grief. The scent of incense curled in the warm air, thick and unrelenting, mixing with the low chanting of the monks. The white coffin rested on the crematory platform, adorned with flowers, unbearably beautiful for something that held so much sorrow.

Gemini stood close to Fourth’s mother, holding her trembling hand tightly. His own tears blurred his vision, but he bit down hard, forcing himself to remain steady. Fourth would never forgive him if he let her collapse alone.

Pond and Phuwin clung to each other, both of them crying openly, their shoulders shaking. Satang stood rigid, fists pressed against his sides, as though the only thing holding him together was sheer force of will. Mark had his eyes fixed on the coffin, lips trembling, whispering Fourth’s name under his breath like a mantra, as if repeating it would somehow call him back.

When it came time for the final farewell, Gemini’s legs nearly gave out. Still, he forced himself forward, step by step, until he stood before the coffin. He reached out with trembling hands and placed a garland of flowers atop it, his fingertips lingering against the polished surface. The cool wood stung against his skin. His lips parted, and the words slipped out in a whisper meant only for Fourth.

“You were supposed to stay with me… we were supposed to grow old, laugh about stupid things, fight and make up… Fourth, what am I supposed to do now?” His voice cracked, shattering into sobs he tried to swallow down. He pressed his forehead to the coffin for a moment, his body trembling with grief he could no longer hide.

Fourth’s mother stepped forward then, her cry breaking through the quiet. Gemini immediately turned, wrapping his arms around her as her body gave way, sobs wracking through her frame. He held her tight, whispering broken reassurances, even as his own tears fell hot and fast down his face.

When the monks began the final chants and the fire was lit, the crowd bowed their heads. Gemini didn’t move. His eyes stayed fixed on the flames as they rose higher, consuming the coffin. The heat licked at his skin, but he felt cold, frozen in place as the reality sank in—this was the end.

Pond wailed softly against Phuwin’s shoulder, Satang turned his back with tears finally spilling freely down his cheeks, and Mark covered his face, his sobs muffled but unrelenting.

Gemini stood tall beside Fourth’s mother, gripping her hand so hard his knuckles went white. Inside, he was breaking, screaming, collapsing. But on the outside, he stayed steady—for her. For Fourth. Even as the fire devoured the last physical trace of the boy who had been his world.

When the fire finally dimmed and the monks’ chants faded into silence, the mourners slowly began to drift away, leaving behind only the closest ones—those who loved Fourth the most.

The smell of smoke lingered heavily in the air, clinging to skin and clothes. Gemini’s chest felt tight, as though the flames had burned straight through him too. He stayed close to Fourth’s mother, steadying her as the monks prepared to collect the ashes. Her eyes were swollen, her hands trembling, and yet she insisted on being there, insisted on seeing her son’s remains with her own eyes.

When the small urn was brought forward, Gemini’s breath hitched painfully. The sight of it was unbearable—so small, so fragile, a fraction of what Fourth had been. He could still see him laughing, teasing, alive, and now… he was reduced to ash in a vessel Gemini could hold with one hand. His vision blurred as tears streamed freely down his face, but he blinked them away, refusing to break while she was still standing beside him.

Phuwin let out a choked sob the moment he saw the urn, his whole body curling in on itself. Pond pulled him close, hugging him so tightly it was as if he could shield him from the pain. Satang stood a step back, his face crumpling as he finally let himself weep openly, his fists unclenching at last. Mark pressed both hands against his mouth, shaking his head, whispering, “It shouldn’t have been him… it shouldn’t have been him…” over and over until his voice dissolved into tears.

After the ceremony, the five of them found themselves sitting together under the temple’s bodhi tree. No one spoke. The silence pressed heavy around them, broken only by the occasional sob or the rustle of leaves above.

Gemini sat with his back against the trunk, his eyes fixed on the ground. Fourth’s mother had gone inside to rest, and without her presence, Gemini no longer fought to hold himself together. His face crumpled, his body shaking as he buried his face in his hands. Finally, the sobs he had been holding back tore free, harsh and guttural, breaking the silence around them.

Pond reached over, grabbing his hand. Phuwin leaned into him. Mark and Satang sat close on either side, shoulders touching, their shared grief binding them together. They didn’t exchange words—there was nothing left to say.

The world had taken their Fourth, and all they had left now was each other, sitting in the shadow of a tree, clinging to the fragments of someone they could never get back.

That night, when the temple grounds had emptied and the friends had gone home, Gemini stayed behind. He told the others he’d be fine, that he just needed a moment, but the truth was he couldn’t bear to leave. Not yet. Not when Fourth was still here, even if only in ashes.

The moon hung low, pale and distant, casting faint light over the courtyard. The air was thick with the scent of smoke and incense that clung stubbornly to everything. Gemini sat alone on the steps outside, his body hunched, his hands dangling limply between his knees.

The moment the silence wrapped around him again, the dam broke. His chest caved in, and he folded forward, pressing his fists to his mouth as sobs tore through him. They came hard and violent, the kind that left his whole body shaking, his lungs seizing like he couldn’t get air. He gasped Fourth’s name into the night, broken and small, as if somehow, somewhere, his friend might still hear him.

“I don’t know how to do this without you,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking apart. “You promised me forever… and I believed you.” His tears soaked into his hands, his vision blurring as he looked up at the sky. “Why did you leave me? Why did you leave us?”

His body gave out, and he sank sideways onto the cold stone steps, curling into himself. For so long, he had been the strong one, holding everyone else together. But now, in the quiet darkness, there was no strength left to pretend. Just the hollow ache of loss, clawing at him until he felt like nothing was left inside.

The urn was inside, safe with Fourth’s mother, but Gemini whispered to it anyway, as though the ashes could carry his words across the divide. “I’ll take care of her. I swear it. Even if I break in the process. But, Fourth… I need you. I need you so badly.”

The wind stirred through the trees, carrying the faintest rustle of leaves. For a heartbeat, Gemini closed his eyes and let himself imagine it was Fourth’s laugh—soft, teasing, close by. When he opened them again, the night was silent. Empty.

And so Gemini lay there on the temple steps, under the pale light of the moon, crying until exhaustion finally dragged him into a restless sleep—his face still wet with tears, his heart still reaching for the best friend he would never touch again.

The next morning, the temple was quiet, the first light of dawn spilling pale and gentle across the courtyard. Gemini was still there, slumped against the same cold stone steps, hair tangled, face streaked with dried and fresh tears. His body shivered from the night’s grief, but he had somehow survived it. Somehow, he had lasted until the sun rose again.

Pond was the first to find him, hesitating for a moment before crouching down beside him. “Gem… hey,” he whispered softly, careful not to startle him. Gemini didn’t move at first, eyes heavy, staring at the ground as if the night had hollowed him out entirely.

Phuwin appeared next, followed by Satang and Mark. None of them spoke at first, words felt meaningless. They simply sat close, offering presence instead of comfort, letting him know he wasn’t entirely alone.

Finally, Gemini lifted his head, eyes red and swollen, lips cracked, and forced a shaky, almost-empty smile. “Morning,” he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. “I… I’m fine.”

They didn’t buy it. None of them did. But no one pressed him. Instead, they gathered around him, shoulders touching, hands brushing lightly in silent solidarity. Gemini drew a deep, shuddering breath, pressing his hand to his chest as if he could steady the chaos still raging inside him. He had survived the night. He was still here.

In the days after the cremation, Pond and Phuwin stayed close to Gemini, often sitting with him in silence, letting him lead when he wanted to speak and simply holding space when he didn’t. Satang, usually so stoic, gradually allowed himself to speak in fragments—memories of Fourth, small jokes that once made them all laugh, stories that were painful and sweet all at once. Mark, who had spent most of the first day alone in shock, began opening up too, his whispers of Fourth’s name softening over time into conversations about the moments they’d shared.

Gemini, though still raw and trembling beneath his careful composure, began to lean on them as well. Together, they handled the small practicalities—the paperwork, the rituals, and the endless questions from friends and relatives. But more importantly, they shared grief in the quiet moments, sitting together under the temple’s bodhi tree, walking through the empty streets in the early morning, or simply lying awake at night, letting the memories of Fourth flood them in a wave that wasn’t quite as suffocating when shared.

One evening, Gemini found himself in the kitchen at Satang’s place, making tea for everyone. They were all exhausted. Pond murmured a memory from one of their school days, and it made Phuwin chuckle softly, which in turn made Satang roll his eyes, and even Gemini managed a small, shaky smile.

Gemini moved through the days in a blur of routine, convincing himself he was “doing okay.” He went to work, answered calls, sorted through messages, and even smiled sometimes when friends or Fourth’s mother looked to him for strength. But the smiles were thin, the laughs forced, and the moments of stillness came like waves that knocked him off his feet.

At night, the emptiness gnawed at him, relentless. No matter how he tried to occupy his mind—papers, chores, conversations—the shadow of Fourth’s absence lingered, pressing down harder than the day before. Slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, the world lost its color. The smell of the temple incense, the hum of morning traffic, even the familiar laughter of his friends felt muted, distant. Gemini would catch himself staring at the door, half-expecting Fourth to walk in, and when he didn’t, the hollow ache in his chest threatened to swallow him whole.

The only place Gemini could breathe was in the stories he wrote. Late at night, when the rest of the world had gone quiet, he pulled out a notebook and pen, or sometimes typed feverishly into his laptop. In these stories, Fourth was alive—laughing, teasing, alive and whole. He wrote about mornings spent drinking bad coffee together, arguments over trivial matters that ended in laughter, and quiet evenings sitting under the stars talking about everything and nothing.

He had rewritten the same scene for the third night in a row, tracing Fourth’s words, gestures, the easy laugh that had always made Gemini’s chest tighten. He leaned closer, pen poised above the page, rereading the dialogue for the hundredth time. And then—something made him freeze.

A character he had only sketched in the margins, a minor figure meant to be incidental, had… shifted. A line of dialogue, neat and deliberate, curled along the edge of the page, in his own handwriting—but he knew, with a sinking certainty, that he had not written it. His fingers hovered, trembling, over the ink. Slowly, hesitantly, he traced the words. They were smooth and familiar beneath his fingertips, yet the memory of writing them was utterly absent. His heart hammered in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears.

“I’m tired,” he muttered, rubbing his temples as if physical pressure could erase the thought. “… just delusional now.” He shook the notebook lightly, hoping the strange words would smear, vanish, anything—but the page stayed pristine, mocking him with its permanence.

Minutes later, he noticed the pen lying several inches from where he had placed it earlier. His stomach clenched. A paperclip had shifted, too, angled just so, innocuous enough to dismiss—but Gemini couldn’t. His hands hovered over the objects, as if touching them would confirm some terrible truth.

And then the mirror.

He had passed it countless times that evening, but for some reason, he glanced up. The reflection made his pulse spike. At first, it seemed normal—his own hunched figure, messy hair, the faint shadows of exhaustion under his eyes—but then it… didn’t move quite right. He raised a hand, slow and careful, and the reflection hesitated, lingering for a heartbeat before lifting its own fingers.

Gemini’s breath hitched, sharp and shallow. He leaned closer, eyes wide, and the figure in the glass tilted its head—not mimicking him, but tilting, curious, alive. The corner of its mouth quirked ever so slightly, as though amused. Goosebumps prickled over his arms.

He stumbled backward, pressing a hand against his chest. “No. No, this is just… exhaustion,” he muttered, shaking his head violently. His pulse raced, the rational part of his mind clinging desperately to an explanation—shadows of grief, stress, too much sleeplessness.

He packed away the notebook with trembling hands, switched off the lamp, and crawled into bed. The darkness should have been comforting, but it wasn’t. Even under the sheets, with the room silent and still, he couldn’t shake the creeping sensation. Somewhere in the shadows, in the mirror, it had started to move, to breathe, to exist...

And as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, Gemini realized with a shiver that perhaps grief hadn’t just twisted his mind—it had opened a door.

Ever since that night, the taps began. Always when he was writing. Gemini would be bent over his notebook, pen racing, trying to catch the sound of Fourth’s laugh in ink, when—tap, tap, tap. The sound came sharp and deliberate, from the wall where the mirror hung. His head would snap up, breath caught in his throat, but the glass only reflected his own hollow-eyed stare. Nothing moved. Nothing waited.

It kept happening. Night after night, the faint, insistent tapping. Sometimes quick, like impatient fingers drumming. Other times slow, measured, as though whoever—or whatever—was inside had all the time in the world. The more it continued, the less Gemini could tell if it was real or his own mind unraveling.

He pressed his palms to his temples, muttering, “I’m going crazy. I have to be.” The words felt flimsy against the silence that followed. And then, on some nights, silence wasn’t what answered him.

Then, one night, it wasn’t just tapping.

The sound came low, muffled, warped as if pushed through thick walls. A voice, buried and straining. Gemini froze, every line of his unfinished sentence trembling in his notebook.

“Hey…” The voice cracked. A pause. Then again.  “Hey, can you hear me?”

The pen slid from his fingers. His chest tightened until it hurt. That voice—he knew it. He knew it, even through the distortion, even through the impossible.

“Fourth?” His own whisper sounded broken, a plea more than a question.

The mirror gave nothing back but his own reflection, wide-eyed and shaking.

.

.

Gemini hunched over his desk, the soft yellow glow of his lamp spilling across the open notebook. The night outside pressed against the windows, silent and heavy, while his pen hovered over a scene he had written weeks ago. It was small, almost trivial—a stray cat weaving through a sunlit alley, brushing against Fourth’s legs before darting off—but something about it now tugged at him, pulling him out of his exhaustion.

As he reread the lines, a faint, musky warmth drifted into the room. It was subtle at first, like a memory brushing against his senses, but it grew, curling into the corners of the dimly lit room. Gemini froze, his fingers clutching the notebook. That smell… what was that? It was alive, immediate, like the alley in his story had somehow seeped through the paper into his bedroom.

A soft mewling followed echoing from the shadowed corner. Gemini’s heart lurched violently in his chest. His eyes darted across the room, scanning the edges of the darkness, and there it was, a tiny black-and-white kitten, sitting on the rug with tail curling lazily, bright eyes fixed on him. Its fur glimmered faintly in the lamp light, and every detail—the twitch of its ears, the curl of its whiskers—matched exactly the creature he had written into existence weeks ago.

Gemini’s hands shook as he leaned closer, a trembling breath escaping him. He reached out slowly, half-expecting it to vanish like a trick of his mind. But it didn’t. The kitten blinked, yawned, and brushed against his ankle, purring softly. Gemini’s throat tightened, and he swallowed, breath catching painfully. “This… this can’t be real,” he whispered, his voice small in the quiet room, but the gentle vibration of the purr answered him with undeniable certainty.

He sat back, disbelief clawing at him, but temptation edged in. Carefully, almost reverently, he grabbed his pen and began a new story, sketching a tiny bird perched on a slender branch, a creature invisible to anyone but himself. Moments later, faint, sweet chirping trilled from the window. Gemini turned slowly, holding his breath—and there it was, a tiny sparrow hopping along the sill, tilting its head as if waiting for direction.

His pulse thundered in his ears, a mixture of fear and wonder making his fingers tingle. Every instinct screamed caution, but the irresistible pull of possibility drew him forward. He experimented cautiously, conjuring small objects, tiny animals, even minor characters. Each time, the room subtly shifted, accommodating them, bending the boundary between story and reality until the impossible felt tangible.

Then he glanced at the large standing mirror in the corner of his room. He had always liked the way it reflected the lamp’s light, elongating the shadows into elegant shapes. That night, he had written a scene of Fourth laughing on a quiet street at dusk, his voice echoing faintly through the page. Gemini’s breath caught. When he looked into the mirror, the reflection wasn’t his room anymore. Behind him stretched the street he had imagined—fog curling around dim golden streetlights, Fourth leaning casually against a lamppost, hair catching the soft glow, a grin wide and familiar across his face.

His chest tightened. He raised a hand, slow and deliberate. Fourth’s figure mirrored him instantly, tilting his head in a teasing gesture. Gemini’s pulse raced, equal parts terror and awe. He lifted a foot cautiously. The ground behind him in the reflection rippled faintly, like water disturbed, and a shiver ran down his spine. The air smelled faintly of night, of stone and damp leaves, of Fourth’s cologne—sharp and intoxicating.

Tentatively, he stepped forward. His foot passed through the surface of the glass as if it were water, cool and shimmering, and then the rest of him followed. The mirror embraced him, enveloping him in light and shadow. And suddenly, he was there—on the quiet street from his story, the sound of Fourth’s laugh weaving around him, the evening air brushing against his skin, alive in a way he hadn’t felt in months.

He stumbled back, heart hammering violently, eyes wide, trying to comprehend. He turned to face the mirror again. It was definitely not merely a reflective surface—it was a bridge or a portal or whatever. Every story he wrote could now bloom into reality. Every fragment of a world he imagined might exist—and he could step inside. Most importantly, he could see Fourth again.

Gemini’s chest tightened with every step as he crossed the shimmering surface of the mirror, the world around him folding into a perfect, impossible quiet. His breath came in short, uneven bursts, ragged and trembling, and each inhale felt like a jagged shard of longing scraping against his ribs. The air smelled faintly of wet stone and distant blooms, a scent that should have comforted him but only deepened the ache in his chest. The streetlights glowed softly in the dusk, casting a honeyed haze over cobblestones that gleamed like wet glass, yet every familiar detail—every crack, every shadow—felt unbearably sharp, painfully alive.

Ahead, Fourth leaned against a lamppost, tossing a small chocolates between his hands, smiling at some invisible joke. Gemini froze mid-step. The sight ripped through him. Fourth’s laughter, light and effortless, echoed in the quiet street, a sound that was both balm and knife. His chest constricted, twisting with longing so sharp it was almost unbearable. In the real world, Fourth was gone—gone forever—and yet here he was, breathing, alive, oblivious to the chasm Gemini was standing on, a chasm between life and death.

“Fourth,” Gemini whispered, the word breaking on his lips like glass. It sounded too small in the vastness of the story-world, almost sacrilegious in its fragility. Fourth looked up, eyes bright, eyebrows lifting in surprise at the sight of him.

“Hey!” Fourth called, his voice warm, easy, carrying a lightness that made Gemini’s heart ache even more. “You took forever. I thought you’d get lost on the way.” He grinned, completely unaware of the trembling, desperate weight pressing down on Gemini from the outside world.

Gemini’s hands shook, feet rooted to the wet cobblestones. He swallowed hard, tears threatening to spill over, burning behind his eyelids. “I… I missed you,” he said, voice cracking, nearly strangled by the intensity of his longing. “I didn’t realize… I didn’t realize how much until now.”

Fourth tilted his head, curiosity knitting his brow. “What’s wrong? You are being… weird.” The teasing tone, so ordinary, was unbearable to Gemini. It was Fourth, alive and lighthearted, with no inkling of the loss Gemini carried like a stone in his chest.

The tears came then, unbidden, blurring the lamplight into golden smears. Gemini’s fingers twitched, aching to reach out, to hold him, to prove—somehow—that he was real, at least here, at least in this fragile, impossible moment. “Nothing,” he whispered, shaking his head violently, voice trembling. “Nothing at all. I just…” He couldn’t say the truth—that Fourth was dead outside this story, that every second he spent here was a stolen fragment of impossible hope.

“Here, catch!” Fourth said suddenly, tossing on small chocolate toward him with a laugh that cut through Gemini like both fire and honey. Gemini flinched, caught it clumsily, and they laughed together—him with tears hot on his cheeks, Fourth with that effortless joy, unaware that his presence was almost unbearable to Gemini. The sensation was overwhelming, living grief and impossible joy entwined, stabbing and soothing all at once.

Gemini’s heart pounded painfully. He knew he couldn’t stay lost in this magic forever. This Fourth—so vivid, so warm—had no idea that in the world beyond, he was gone. Gemini could watch, could hear him laugh, could even brush against him here, but it was fleeting, fragile, a bittersweet illusion he could not hold. Each heartbeat felt both a gift and a knife twisting in his chest.

Still, he allowed himself a moment longer. He let the warmth of Fourth’s presence seep into him, felt the soft weight of his hand brushing his sleeve as they walked side by side down the quiet street. He memorized the sound of Fourth’s laugh, the subtle tilt of his shoulders, the faint rustle of the cobblestones beneath their feet. Every detail was a lifeline, painfully beautiful.

Gemini whispered again, softly, almost to himself, his voice trembling with grief and longing, “I’ll never forget you. Not here, not there, not anywhere.”

Night after night, Gemini found himself standing before the mirror, unable—or unwilling—to stay in the quiet, empty apartment of the his world. Each glance at his own reflection, each flash of the empty room behind him, reminded him of the gaping absence left by Fourth. The grief was a weight in his chest, relentless and raw, and it drove him to the mirror again and again, seeking relief in the impossible warmth of the story-world.

At first, he went cautiously, stepping only briefly into the street where Fourth waited, savoring stolen moments, a laugh, a glance, the brush of a sleeve. But the longer he stayed in the world he had written, the more it began to feel like a lifeline holding him above the crushing reality of loss. It carried a sweetness he couldn’t bear to leave behind.

Gradually, he began lingering longer. Nights blurred together. Hours in the story-world passed like minutes, and Gemini returned to his apartment feeling hollow, trembling, addicted to the illusion. He walked beside Fourth on quiet streets, listened to his easy jokes, traced the contours of his familiar gestures, because he knew this Fourth could never know, could never remember the real world or the tragedy Gemini carried in his heart.

Sometimes, he wrote new moments, feeding the mirror-world with his memories, his longing, shaping it so he could keep Fourth near. The more grief swelled inside him, the more he relied on it—until he stopped leaving as quickly, until the lamplight of the story-world seemed warmer, safer than the cold, empty glow of his own room.

Gemini’s hands would shake as he crossed the threshold of the mirror, heart hammering, tears streaming unheeded down his face. Here, he could breathe again, even if it was stolen air. Here, Fourth was alive. Here, for a moment, the crushing weight of death eased just enough that Gemini could exist without crumbling entirely.

But each return to the real world was more brutal than the last. The apartment felt impossibly vast, silent, haunted by absence. And each night, grief pulled him deeper, closer to the story-world, until the boundary between reality and fiction began to blur—until staying inside that golden, lamplit street felt not just comforting, but necessary.

Gemini knew, somewhere deep down, that he was losing himself. Yet he could not stop. The world was perfect, just as he had imagined it would be if fourth was alive, and so he let himself forget the emptiness outside the mirror.

But slowly, subtly, he began noticing differences. Fourth moved slightly differently than he remembered—smaller gestures, a tilt of the head that was almost familiar but not quite. His laugh, though bright and warm, lacked the faint hesitations and soft stutters. He noticed tiny inconsistencies in memory, little things that made Gemini’s heart ache, Fourth remembered conversations they had never had, made jokes Gemini had never heard, brushed against memories Gemini couldn’t reconcile.

He knew, with a sinking clarity, that this boy—so alive, so warm, so achingly familiar—was not the Fourth he had lost.

And yet, he couldn’t turn away. The pain of loving a shadow was tangled with the joy of presence, and Gemini felt himself leaning further into it.

He started writing with more intent, each story a lifeline. He wrote conversations, tiny gestures, private jokes only they shared, little touches that made the boy in the mirror-world feel more real. And every time he crossed the threshold, every time Fourth laughed or reached for, Gemini’s heart both soared and shattered.

He thought he was just shaping the story, guiding it gently, keeping Fourth safe in the way he wished he could have in real life. Every word he wrote, every gesture he imagined, felt like care, like preserving something precious. He told himself it was harmless—after all, Fourth was alive here, laughing, breathing, smiling. What harm could there be in nudging him toward perfection, toward happiness?

But again, tiny things began to pierce that comforting illusion. Fourth would do something unexpected, a glance, a laugh, a gesture Gemini hadn’t written. At first, Gemini tried to ignore it, brushing it off as a mistake, as fatigue, as imagination. But the moments became more frequent. Fourth’s laughter sometimes came unprompted, not following the rhythm Gemini had designed. A hand gesture, a frown, a pause in a joke—small things, subtle, but undeniably independent.

Gemini used to think the world only moved when he pushed it forward, that very breath of Fourth’s belonged to the weight of his pen.

But one quiet afternoon, he it dawned on him that he was being arrogant, it wasn’t like that at all.

He had fallen asleep over his notebook, pages blank beneath his cheek, and when he woke the room had changed without him. The curtains swayed in a breeze he hadn’t written, carrying in the smell of fresh bread from a bakery he had never thought to imagine. Down the street someone was singing, a melody low and warm, and the sound wrapped through the air like it had always belonged here.

On the bed, Fourth was humming along under his breath, eyes half-closed, fingers tapping idly against his knee in time with the tune. Gemini stared, his chest tightening with something too soft to name. He hadn’t given Fourth that habit. He hadn’t placed the song in his mouth or the bakery on the corner. The world had offered them freely, as though it wanted to keep unfolding whether or not he asked it to.

He told himself it was impossible, that this Fourth wasn’t, that he was merely a reflection of memory and imagination. But the denial crumbled as quickly as it has been built.

He found himself lingering, watching Fourth move through the streets he had imagined, with a helpless fascination. He wanted to memorize every line of his face, every gesture, every small idiosyncrasy that made him Fourth. He noticed how his chest would tighten, how his hands would ache to reach out, to touch him, to stay near him forever.

Gemini’s chest tightened the first time he realized it, he had been trying to script someone else’s life, to hold a fragment of the boy he had lost in the cage of his grief. He looked at Fourth, leaning against a lamppost, hair catching the glow of the streetlights, laughing at something Gemini hadn’t imagined—and a pang of guilt sliced through him. “I’ve… I’ve been controlling him,” he whispered, voice trembling, almost to himself. The words felt raw and impossible to take back.

He realized he didn’t just love the idea of Fourth anymore. He loved him—the living, laughing, unaware boy in the mirror-world—with a depth and intensity that made his chest ache, made his vision blur with tears he didn’t want to admit.

He stepped closer, careful not to startle him, voice trembling. “Fourth…” he whispered, almost afraid to speak the word. Fourth looked up, curious, and Gemini’s pulse hammered in his ears. The truth of it hit him like a tidal wave, he would follow this boy anywhere, protect him, cherish him, love him with every fractured, grieving part of himself.

It was terrifying. Loving a version of Fourth that wasn’t real in the world he had left behind, loving someone born of memory and longing, was both impossible and inevitable.

For nights afterward, Gemini didn’t know what to do. He continued to write, yes, but Fourth moved in ways he hadn’t intended, him spoke words Gemini hadn’t imagined. At first, it was terrifying. The story-world felt wilder, less predictable, and Gemini’s hands shook with the need to shape it, to preserve it.

He started stepping back, scribbling less directive lines, watching. He let Fourth walk, let him speak, let him live. The shift was slow, almost imperceptible at first, a hesitation here, a pause there, a quiet permission to exist outside Gemini’s grief. And with each step, Gemini felt the weight on his chest lessen ever so slightly—not entirely, not yet, but enough to breathe, to see Fourth as more than a memory, more than a reflection, more than a mirror of loss.

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Pond, Phuwin, Satang, and Mark stood in a loose semicircle, eyes sharp. Gemini hugged his notebook to his chest, shoulders tense, heart hammering.

“Gem,” Satang began, his voice steady but carrying an edge Gemini couldn’t ignore. “You’ve been... We see it. The nights you don’t sleep, the meals you skip, the way you drift off when we talk. Something’s happening. We need you to tell us.”

Gemini swallowed hard, lips dry. He wanted to deflect, to say it was nothing, that he was just writing, just grieving—but the intensity in their eyes, the worry in their expressions, made the words stick in his throat.

Pond stepped closer, voice soft but firm. “We’re not here to judge, Gem. We just… we want to understand. What is it you’re doing? What’s happening with you?”

Phuwin added, frowning, “You’re pushing us away. You barely look at us anymore. You live somewhere else, somewhere we can’t follow. And we can’t just… watch you vanish without knowing why.”

Mark, usually quiet, spoke last, voice almost a whisper, “Gem, we’ve been your friends for years. We’ve seen you through everything. We don’t want to lose you to… whatever this is.”

Gemini’s hands shook around the notebook. Could he tell them the truth? Could he explain the impossible without sounding insane?

He took a shaky breath. “I… I can’t explain it fully,” he admitted finally. “But… there’s someone. Someone I’ve… I’ve brought here. Alive. Through my stories. Through… the mirror.”

Satang’s mouth opened and closed once, twice, but no words came. His brows drew together, deepening the crease above his nose.

Gemini pressed his lips together, trying to steady his voice. “I know it sounds… impossible. But it’s real. At least, it feels real. And I… I’ve grown to love him. I can’t stop thinking about him, can’t stop wanting to be there. I—”

Satang finally broke the silence, voice low but commanding, “Gem, we need to understand. We need to see this. Not to judge, not to take anything away, or even stop you, but to help you… not get lost completely.”

Gemini’s chest tightened. Could he let them see? Could he open the door to the story-world without losing the fragile control he had? He hesitated, then nodded slightly, voice trembling. “I… I’ll show you. But… you have to understand. He’s not real in our world. Not really. But he’s… everything to me here.”

The group exchanged glances, uncertainty and concern etched on every face. Gemini’s hands shook as he approached the mirror, the notebook heavy in his grip. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. The

Gemini’s hands trembled as he stood before the large mirror, the notebook clutched against his chest. Satang, Pond, Phuwin, and Mark lingered behind him, their expressions a mix of worry, disbelief, and tentative curiosity.

“I… I’ll show you,” Gemini whispered, voice barely audible. “But you have to understand—he’s not real here, not in the way we are. He’s… alive in the story, but this… this is fragile.”

He opened the notebook, turning to the page where Fourth waited, laughing on the quiet street at dusk. The glow of the lamplights shimmered faintly in the glass. Gemini swallowed, took a shaky breath, and stepped forward.

Pond froze mid-step, fingers trembling as they hovered near his lips, eyes darting between Gemini and the glassy shimmer of the mirror.

The mirror’s surface rippled under his touch, cool and shimmering, and one by one, he guided his friends closer. “Watch,” he murmured. “Just… watch.”

Satang’s hand brushed the glass, Phuwin leaned in, Pond’s brow furrowed, and Mark’s eyes widened. Then the shimmer deepened, and the street stretched out behind them—lamplights glowing, cobblestones glistening from a faint drizzle, the evening air heavy with the scent of rain and distant flowers.

There, sitting inside a cafe, was Fourth. Alive, laughing softly, tossing a pebble up and down, oblivious to the world outside the mirror. His hair caught the golden glow of the streetlights, his smile effortless, familiar, impossible.

They gasped softly. Phuwin’s lashes fluttered rapidly, a hiccup of disbelief catching in his throat, and he swallowed hard, blinking as if the sight might vanish if he didn’t look away. Mark stayed rooted in place, shoulders stiff, pupils wide, jaw slack, as though the world had tilted and left him hanging in midair.

Satang’s eyes narrowed, trying to take it in, staring at the figure with wide, uncomprehending eyes.

“He’s… real?” Mark whispered.

Gemini’s hands shook on the edge of the mirror, his chest tight, mind spinning. “I… I don’t know if this is safe,” he muttered, voice cracking.

Pond stepped closer, hesitant, voice barely audible. “We’ve missed him too… so much. We can’t just … in this ...”

Phuwin swallowed hard, twisting his fingers together. “We want to see him to. With him. With you. Please… let us.”

Satang’s jaw tightened, eyes flicking between the shimmering mirror and Fourth. “We’re not stepping in to mess anything up,” he said slowly.

Gemini’s pulse hammered. He opened the notebook to the page with Fourth, showing it to them. “If we all… if we go slowly, carefully… you’ll see him. You’ll be able to… be here. But—” His voice cracked. “He doesn’t know. Not that he’s… different. Not that he’s not real in your world.”

Mark, still frozen, finally nodded. “I… I don’t care if it’s not him. I need this. We need this. Please Gem.”

They exchanged a look. No one spoke at first, the weight of grief and longing pressing down. Then, almost together, they stepped closer, hands hovering over the glass. The mirror’s surface shimmered, ripples dancing beneath their fingers.

“Its… it’s moving,” Pond whispered. “It’s like it’s alive.”

Slowly, one by one, they pressed forward, and the mirror gave way.

Fourth looked up from the café table, grin bright, eyes lighting on each of them as they stepped through the shimmering surface of the mirror. “Finally! Took you long enough,” he said, tossing the pebble into the air and catching it effortlessly. “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

Gemini’s throat tightened. He wanted to run to him, grab him, and never let go. Pond, Phuwin, Satang, and Mark each froze for a heartbeat, caught between awe and disbelief, before rushing forward. Fourth’s eyes flicked to each of them, warm and familiar. “Hey— you would never believe what happened today!”

Pond laughed shakily, tears springing to his eyes. “It’s… it’s really you,” he whispered, voice cracking.

Chapter Text

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. Fourth’s eyes fluttered open, swollen and heavy, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. His throat was dry, raw from screaming and crying the night before, each swallow a sharp reminder of the anguish he had poured into the dark hours.

Memories of the night came rushing back—the uncontrollable sobs, the pain that had felt like it might break him, and Gemini’s trembling arms wrapped around him, holding him close even as his cries tore through the silence. He remembered the way Gemini had whispered his name, over and over, as if the repetition could soothe the unbearable weight of grief. How warm he had felt, how fragile and human, despite being a reflection of someone who should have been gone.

Fourth’s fingers twitched, reaching instinctively for the space beside him. Gemini was still there, curled lightly against him, breathing soft and uneven in sleep, hair falling across his face. The night had been merciless for both of them.

Fourth’s chest tightened at the sight, a mixture of aching tenderness and guilt settling deep in his bones. He had fallen apart, and Gemini had held him anyway, carrying a weight that wasn’t his to bear, yet had done so without hesitation.

His heart ached, a mix of helplessness and sorrow clawing at him. Tears still clung stubbornly to Gemini’s cheeks, tracing glistening paths over his tan skin, and his lips were cracked and raw from the night’s crying.

Every ragged breath Gemini took made Fourth flinch slightly, as though even breathing carried the weight of all the pain between them. He felt the pull of grief and love tangled together, heavy in his chest, a weight he couldn’t push away. The boy before him—the one he had loved, the one who had created him, the one who had cried just as hard—looked so fragile, so utterly broken, that Fourth’s hands itched to reach out, to do something, anything, to take the pain away.

He leaned closer, careful not to wake Gemini, and brushed a trembling finger across his damp cheek. The touch was feather-light, almost reverent, and Fourth swallowed hard. His own tears threatened again, but he held them back, letting his gaze linger on Gemini’s face, memorizing every line, every quiver, every trace of exhaustion and heartbreak.

Fourth’s mind spun with guilt and confusion. How could someone so fiercely loving, so desperately loyal, hurt him this way? And how could he—Fourth, the “fake” Fourth—carry the weight of all the love and grief meant for someone else?

He didn’t know how to make it right, didn’t know if he could ever fully erase the hurt, but he could stay. He could hold Gemini’s hand in the middle of all this pain. And for now, that would have to be enough.

He exhaled slowly, letting his forehead brush against Gemini’s hair.

Fourth swallowed hard, the lump in his throat making his chest ache, and let himself curl slightly into Gemini’s warmth, closing his eyes for just a moment.

His arms wrapped around him instinctively, a protective, clinging embrace, pressing their warmth together.

Gemini shifted slightly in his sleep, letting Fourth’s weight rest against him. The soft rise and fall of Gemini’s chest under his cheek, the steady rhythm of his breathing, offered a strange comfort amidst the chaos of the night. Fourth buried his face in Gemini’s shoulder, letting the scent and presence ground him, letting the closeness speak the words he couldn’t yet form.

Tears welled in Fourth’s eyes again.

Gemini stirred, eyelids fluttering open. His gaze met Fourth’s, red-rimmed and wet, and a trembling, unspoken understanding passed between them. Without a word, he shifted closer, wrapping his arms tightly around Fourth.

Fourth’s heart thudded painfully in his chest, he pressed his face against Gemini’s, inhaling the faint scent of him, letting the warmth and the rhythm of Gemini’s breathing steady his own ragged heartbeat.

“Stay like this…please,” Gemini whispered hoarsely, clutching Fourth as if the world might pull him away in a single cruel instant. Fourth’s fingers threaded through Gemini’s hair, holding him just as desperately.

Gemini tightened his arms around Fourth, pressing him impossibly close, as if he could fuse their bodies into one. Fourth’s chest heaved from the intensity of it, but the closeness, the warmth, the utter desperation in Gemini’s hold… it started to feel oddly comforting.

Fourth let out a shaky laugh, caught somewhere between relief and disbelief. “You’re… suffocating me,” he whispered, his voice muffled against Gemini’s shoulder.

Gemini’s grip didn’t loosen an inch. “Good,” he murmured, voice low and trembling. “I don’t care. I just… I can’t let you go.”

Fourth’s laugh turned softer, lighter, a sound that surprised even him. He wiggled slightly, trying to find some breathing room, but found himself pressed even closer. “You’re silly,” he said, smirking despite the tears still streaking his cheeks.

Gemini pressed his forehead to Fourth’s again, their breaths mingling in the soft morning light. His hands cupped Fourth’s face gently, thumbs brushing along the damp streaks of tears.

“I… I need you to hear this,” Gemini whispered, voice trembling but steady. “I loved him—the real Fourth. I always will, in a way. But… that love… it’s different from what I feel for you.”

Fourth blinked through the haze of lingering tears, heart clenching at the words. “Different… how?”

Gemini swallowed, voice catching. “That was… grief, longing. What I felt for him—it was tied to loss, to wanting him back. But you… you’re here. You’re real. You’re with me, now. And what I feel for you… it’s alive, Fourth. It’s not about the past. It’s not about anyone else. It’s just… you. I love you, not a memory.”

Fourth’s chest tightened, his fingers trembling as they held onto Gemini’s. A quiet laugh, soft and uneven, escaped him. “You… really mean that?”

Gemini’s voice softened, almost wistful as he spoke, brushing his lips against Fourth’s temple. “I… I loved him, you know. The other Fourth. I loved him so much—but not like this. Not like this.” He shook his head slightly, voice trembling with memory. “We were best friends. Everything we shared… laughter, late-night talks, dreams… it was beautiful. But it was never romantic. Never like what I feel for you now.”

Fourth’s hands pressed lightly against Gemini’s chest, his heart tightening with a mix of relief and awe. “So… what we have… this… it’s different?”

Gemini nodded, tears spilling freely as he clutched Fourth closer. “So different. My love for him was deep, but… it wasn’t this. With you, I feel different things. Desire, romance, tenderness… every part of me belongs to you now. You’re not a replacement. You’re real. And you’re mine.”

Fourth let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, a shaky laugh escaping through the tears. “Then… I guess I’m allowed to be scared and happy at the same time?”

Gemini smiled, nuzzling him gently. “Yes. And I’ll stay here, through every fear and doubt. You don’t have to be anyone else. Just be you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

Fourth’s chest swelled, a fragile warmth spreading through him as he pressed a soft kiss to Gemini’s temple.

Gemini’s hands tightened around Fourth’s as he took a shaky breath, voice small but earnest. “I… I have to be honest. When I first… when I first…wrote… met you here, I… I thought of you as a replacement.”

Fourth flinched, the words hitting like a splash of cold water, but he stayed still, letting Gemini continue.

“I thought… you were supposed to be him. The Fourth I lost,” Gemini admitted, his voice trembling. “I expected you to act like him, to feel like him… to fill the same spaces he left behind.”

Fourth’s heart thudded painfully of fear and anticipation twisting in his chest.

“But… you weren’t,” Gemini continued, tears streaking his cheeks. “You… you’re different. You’re not a copy. You’re your own person. And along the way, I realized… you are not him. And I wanted you. You. The real you. You make me feel things I never felt before. You’re… you. And I love you, not a version of anyone else.”

Gemini tilted his head, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and pressed his lips to Fourth’s in a kiss that was slow, and full of everything he felt—love, relief, longing, and reverence. It was soft and grounding, a gentle affirmation that Fourth was here, truly here, and loved for exactly who he was.

Fourth’s hands instinctively rose, cupping Gemini’s face, his own lips trembling as he returned the kiss, tentative at first, then with more certainty, letting the warmth and sincerity of Gemini’s touch seep into him.

When they finally parted, breaths mingling, Gemini rested his forehead against Fourth’s, whispering through the small, shaky sighs between them, “I love you. You’re you. And I… I need you to know that. I love you, Fourth.”

Fourth let out a soft laugh, small at first, then growing as Gemini clung to him, nuzzling into his neck and making exaggerated, playful grumbles. “You’re so… clingy,” Fourth teased, though the tremor in his voice betrayed how comforted he felt.

Gemini smirked, cheek pressing against Fourth’s shoulder. “Clingy? Me? Never,” he whispered, voice muffled but full of warmth. He tightened his hold slightly, and Fourth couldn’t help but laugh again, breath catching between chuckles.

“It tickles!” Fourth said, shaking his head, trying to push Gemini lightly away, though he made no real effort to break free. The sunlight pooled over them, catching the gold in Gemini’s hair, highlighting the softness in his features, and Fourth felt a sudden surge of gratitude.

Gemini pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, still holding him close. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise. Not ever,” he murmured, thumb brushing against Fourth’s cheek. “I love you, Fourth. You’re you—and I’ve fallen for you. All of you.”

Fourth swallowed, tears still threatening at the corners of his eyes, but this time mixed with laughter and relief. “You’re so silly,” he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips. “You know that?”

Gemini’s grin widened, when a sudden cough echoed from the doorway. Both of them froze, cheeks flushing crimson.

Satang stood there, arms crossed, eyebrows raised in a perfect mix of exasperation and amusement. “Uh… hello?” he said, voice dripping with mock indignation. “You two are… on my bed.”

Fourth blinked, sitting up slightly, tangled in the sheets and Gemini’s arms. “We… oh.” His face heated further.

“And,” Satang continued, stepping closer, hands on his hips, “please refrain from doing anything unholy in here. It’s the morning, people!”

Gemini’s lips quirked in a sheepish grin, still holding Fourth close. “ Alright, alright,” he murmured, letting Fourth’s hand slip from his shoulder just enough to raise it in mock surrender.

Satang waved a hand dramatically. “And really! You’re guests, and yet you’ve taken my bed? I had to sleep in the living room with the rest of the boys!” His voice carried a mix of complaint and disbelief, though the faint twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed his amusement.

Fourth couldn’t stop a small, humor-tinged laugh, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. Gemini’s grin widened, and he pressed a quick, teasing kiss to Fourth’s cheek before reluctantly letting him go.

Satang shook his head, stepping fully into the room. “Alright, lovebirds, that’s enough. Go wash up and join the rest of us for breakfast. The boys, and I have been slaving over the stove while you two took over my bed.”

Fourth blinked, still tangled in the sheets with Gemini. Gemini groaned dramatically, burying his face against Fourth’s shoulder. “Do we have to get up?” he whined, voice muffled.

“Yes, you really do,” Satang replied, crossing his arms. “Breakfast isn’t going to wait, and I don’t want to hear whining. The rest of us are already putting in all the work while you two nap like it’s your job.”

Fourth let out a soft laugh, brushing hair out of his face. “Guess we’ve officially been evicted,” he murmured to Gemini, whose fingers were still entwined with his.

Gemini smiled, though reluctantly, and nodded. “Fine… but only because breakfast smells amazing,” he said, tugging Fourth gently toward the bathroom.

As they moved to wash up, the aroma of sizzling pancakes and frying eggs filled the air, and Fourth could hear Pond, Phuwin, Mark, and Satang calling out playful comments and instructions to each other, their voices warm and alive in the kitchen.

When Fourth and Gemini finally emerged from the bathroom, hair still damp and clothes hastily chosen, faces flushed from the warmth of the shower and lingering intimacy, the kitchen, the morning sun spilled across the countertops, catching the steam rising from pans and plates.

“Ah, finally!” Satang exclaimed, tossing a spatula onto the counter. “We were about to send a search party.”

Pond looked up from a bowl of batter, smearing a small smear of flour on his cheek as he grinned. “Took you long enough. Breakfast doesn’t wait, and we’ve got pancakes that are going cold.”

Mark chuckled from where he was stirring eggs in a frying pan. “Plus, we need Fourth to help us test the syrup. It’s a very important job.”

Phuwin, stacking plates neatly, winked at him. “Someone’s got to make sure we don’t poison ourselves.”

Gemini let out a small laugh, linking his arm with Fourth’s as they moved toward the counter. “See? You’re wanted,” he teased softly. “By all of us.”

“Fine, fine,” Fourth said, rolling his eyes but smiling. “I’ll make sure the syrup is up to standard.” He picked up a small ladle, pretending to inspect it with exaggerated seriousness, which earned a chorus of laughter from the others.

The morning passed in a flurry of movement, laughter, and teasing. Fourth helped pour syrup, Mark made commentary on every bite, Pond tried to sneak extra pancakes, and Phuwin made sure no one was hoarding too many eggs. Satang kept up a steady stream of mock complaints and playful threats, while Gemini stayed close to Fourth, fingers brushing against his every chance he got.

Satang shook his head, smirking. “Honestly, you two… You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the floor after that morning show.”

Gemini pressed a quick kiss to Fourth’s temple, whispering, “Don’t let him scare you, it’s just his way of being grumpy.”

Mark leaned back in his chair, arms crossed loosely over his chest. For a moment, he simply watched the others banter, but then he cleared his throat.

“We should probably… talk properly,” he said, his tone calm but carrying a certain weight that made the room still a little.

Pond looked up from where he was licking syrup off his finger, blinking. “Talk properly? About what?”

Mark’s eyes shifted toward Fourth, soft but steady. “About all of this. About what happened. Fourth must have a lot of questions.”

The words seemed to hang in the air, settling heavily between them. Fourth froze, his fork halfway to his mouth, the bite forgotten. His chest tightened, because yes—he did have questions. More than he could ever begin to put into words. Questions about who he was, why he existed, what it meant to love and be loved when he wasn’t the “other” Fourth.

Everyone’s gaze naturally slid toward him then, and for a moment he felt the weight of all their concern pressing down on him. Gemini’s hand found his under the table, fingers curling around his tightly, reassuring and grounding.

Fourth swallowed hard, setting the fork down with trembling fingers. The laughter of moments before seemed like it belonged to another world, another life.

Gemini turned his head slightly, whispering, “It’s okay. You don’t have to rush.”

But Mark’s expression was kind, not demanding. His voice softened as he added, “Whenever you’re ready, Fourth. We are ready to explain.”

Fourth’s throat felt tight, but he forced himself to breathe, Gemini’s hand warm and solid against his. For a long moment, he only stared at the table, tracing the edge of his plate with trembling fingers.

Finally, in a voice rougher than he intended, he asked, “Why me? Why… did I exist at all?”

The words cracked in the air like fragile glass, and the silence that followed seemed to stretch endlessly. Pond shifted uncomfortably, eyes darting between the others. Phuwin pressed his lips together, as though he’d anticipated the question but still struggled to find the right words.

It was Gemini who squeezed his hand first, leaning in. His voice was steady, though his eyes shimmered with that same raw tenderness as the night before. “Because I couldn’t let Fourth go as I said earlier. I couldn’t let the world lose him completely. When I started writing again, I thought I was just… clinging to a memory. But along the way, you became more than that. You became you.”

Satang nodded quietly, adding, “It wasn’t an accident, Fourth. Gemini gave you life because his love couldn’t stop at grief. And what you’ve become since then—that’s yours. You’re not just a shadow of someone else. You’re… yourself.”

Fourth’s breath hitched, his chest aching at their words. He wanted to believe them, wanted to let it sink in—but the fear still gnawed at him. He lifted his eyes, glossy with tears, and whispered, “But… if I was born from someone else’s memory, does that mean I’ll disappear when he stops writing?”

This time, the table went very still. Even Gemini’s hand froze around his, as though the question had cut deeper than any of them wanted to admit.

Phuwin’s hands stilled around his cup, and even Mark and Pond frowned.

Gemini’s breath trembled. His grip on Fourth’s hand tightened so firmly it almost hurt, as if the pressure itself could anchor him here, could tether him against the fear that he might slip away.

“No,” Gemini whispered, shaking his head fiercely. His voice cracked, but the conviction in it was undeniable. “No, you won’t disappear. You’re not just words on a page anymore, Fourth. You’re here—you laugh, you cry, you feel. You’ve grown beyond what I ever imagined. Even if I stopped writing tomorrow, you wouldn’t just… vanish. You’re too real.”

Fourth blinked, his heart thudding painfully at the desperation in Gemini’s eyes.

Mark leaned forward, his tone gentle but pragmatic. “The truth is… none of us know exactly how it works. But what we do know is this—you’re not tied to every line Gemini writes anymore. You’ve stepped out of that. You’ve become someone who exists in his own right. That doesn’t just… stop.”

Phuwin nodded in quiet agreement, voice steady. “You’re here because of love, not just words. Love doesn’t vanish just because someone stops writing it down.”

Satang finally spoke, softer than usual, almost reluctant. “Annoying as you are, Fourth, you’re real. The fact we’re sitting here, eating breakfast together, proves it. That’s not something that can just blink out of existence.”

The words washed over Fourth, shaky and uneven but full of warmth. His chest tightened as tears blurred his vision again—

Gemini cupped his cheek with a trembling hand, leaning closer so their foreheads touched. “You’re not going anywhere. Not while I’m here. Not while I love you.”

Fourth’s lips parted, trembling, his tears finally spilling over.

Fourth stayed there, forehead pressed to Gemini’s, his breath shaky as he tried to absorb every word, every reassurance. For a long moment, the only sounds were the faint clink of dishes and the steady rhythm of Gemini’s breathing, grounding him.

Then Mark cleared his throat gently. “You see? That’s what I mean by talking properly.” His gaze softened on Fourth. “You deserve to understand where you stand in all of this.”

Fourth blinked through his tears, slowly lifting his head. His eyes darted from Mark to Phuwin, to Satang, to Pond—each of them watching him with varying shades of worry and warmth.

“I…” His voice faltered. He didn’t even know where to begin. “I don’t know what questions to ask first. There are too many.”

Phuwin leaned in, speaking gently, as if to lighten the weight. “Then don’t start with everything. Start with one thing—the first thought that’s been stuck in your chest.”

Fourth’s throat tightened. He glanced at Gemini, who gave his hand a reassuring squeeze, and whispered, “Go on. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

Fourth swallowed. “Do you all… really see me? Or do you just see… him? The other Fourth?”

The table went still again. Pond, usually the first to crack a joke, leaned forward seriously for once, his voice uncharacteristically steady. “I see you, Fourth. Not the other one. You’re… you. You sulk differently, you laugh differently, you roll your eyes differently. The other Fourth wasn’t like that.”

Satang nodded, tilting his head as though weighing the words. “The other Fourth was real too, yeah. But he wasn’t sitting at this table. He didn’t steal my bed. He didn’t cry into Gemini’s arms last night. That’s you.”

Phuwin nodded quietly.

Mark leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “It’s natural to compare—you came from him, after all. But don’t let that trick you into believing you’re just a copy. Copies can’t change. You’ve already proven you can.”

Fourth’s chest ached at their words. His vision blurred again, but this time, when the tears spilled over, he didn’t try to hide them. Gemini tugged him closer, pressing a lingering kiss to his temple.

“You’re not a replacement,” Gemini whispered, fierce and tender all at once. “You’re you. My Fourth.”

Fourth let out a shaky laugh through his tears, half in disbelief, half in relief.

Fourth wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but Gemini didn’t let go of him, his thumb brushing soothing circles against his knuckles. The silence stretched, not uncomfortable, but heavy with things unsaid.

Mark was the first to break it. “Maybe… it’s time we told you a little more about him. The other Fourth.” His eyes softened, catching Fourth’s. “Not to make you feel like you’re living in his shadow—but so you know there is a difference.”

Fourth stiffened slightly, unsure if he was ready, but Gemini squeezed his hand again and nodded gently at him.

Phuwin leaned forward, his voice careful. “He was bright, but quieter than you. He always thought before he spoke, unlike you. He’d tease us, sure, but never with the kind of sharpness you have.”

Pond gave a small, wistful smile. “He hated late nights. Always scolded me for staying up too long gaming. You, on the other hand…” He nudged Fourth lightly, “half the time you’re the one dragging us into trouble.”

A weak laugh escaped Fourth’s throat, though his chest ached at hearing their fond memories.

Satang tilted his head, studying Fourth thoughtfully. “The other Fourth carried his heart differently. He was soft, careful. But you—” his voice gentled, “you burn hotter. You’re stubborn as hell. You fight for what you want. You remind us constantly you’re alive.”

Gemini’s hand tightened around Fourth’s. His voice was low, steady. “He was my best friend. I loved him so much, but not like this. We never… looked at each other the way I look at you. With him, it was friendship. With you…” His thumb brushed across Fourth’s cheek, tender, reverent. “…it’s love.”

The words landed heavy in Fourth’s chest, cracking something open. He hadn’t realized how much he’d needed to hear the distinction spoken aloud, how much he’d feared being nothing more than a replacement.

His lips trembled. “So… you don’t love me because I’m him.”

Gemini shook his head firmly, leaning in until their foreheads touched again. “No, like I said earlier, I love you because you’re you. And nothing—no shadow of another world—can change that.”

“Ehem” Mark coughs out loud purposely “Any more questions?”

Fourth sat there quietly for a moment, letting Gemini’s words sink in, the warmth of his hand grounding him. But the silence soon grew restless inside him, his thoughts spinning faster than his heart could keep up.

He glanced around at the others, his brow furrowed. “I… I don’t get it,” he admitted, voice cracking slightly. “How does any of this even work? If I’m not him… if I’m not the Fourth you all remember, then who am I? What am I?”

The room stilled.

Fourth’s voice wavered as he pressed on, the questions tumbling out of him. “This world we’re in… is it even real? Do we just exist because Gemini wrote me? Do we vanish when he stops thinking about us? Am I—” he swallowed hard, eyes dropping to his hands, “—just a story that ends when someone turns the last page?”

Gemini’s chest tightened at the desperation laced through his voice. Before he could speak, Satang leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “You’re asking the question all of us asked at some point,” he said gently. “How real is real? How much of us belongs to the page, and how much is our own?”

Mark added quietly, “The truth is… the world moves even when Gemini doesn’t write. It has its own thing going on. Its own breath.” He gave Fourth a meaningful look. “You woke up this morning with swollen eyes and a broken heart, didn’t you? Not because he wrote it, but because you lived it.”

Phuwin nodded. “We may not be the same as the other versions of us, but that doesn’t make us less. The world writes itself actually. We just… exist within it.”

Fourth’s chest rose and fell unevenly, his mind reeling. He looked back at Gemini, searching his face for confirmation, for something solid to hold onto.

Pond  set down the spoon he’d been stirring with and leaned his elbows on the table, his tone softer than usual. “Fourth… this reality, it’s not one or the other. It’s not just made-up words, but it’s not the same as the reality we came from either. It’s… somewhere in between.”

Fourth frowned, his brows knitting. “In between?”

Phuwin nodded, picking up where Pond left off. “Pieces of the real world bleed into this one—the memories, the people, the feelings. That’s why our parents exists here. That’s why you feel so much like the Fourth from the real world, but you’re still… you. Fiction gave you form, but the real world gave you weight.”

Mark crossed his arms, his sharp gaze softening just a fraction. “Think of it like this, stories are just another version of reality. Sometimes they’re reflections, sometimes distortions, but always tied to something true. We’re a blend—words on a page and echoes of the lives out there.”

Fourth swallowed hard, his heart pounding. “So… I’m both? Real and not real?”

Satang’s lips curved into a half-smile. “You’re alive enough to cry, to laugh, to get on my bed when you weren’t invited. That sounds real to me.” His teasing softened the weight in the room, but his eyes still carried quiet understanding.

Fourth’s brow furrowed, voice barely above a whisper. “Wait… so… everyone here… is…not scripted? Like, actually the same people from the real world?”

Satang nodded slowly. “Exactly. Your mom, our parents, even us—we’re the same people. The difference is perspective. When we go back to the real world, they think Fourth… is gone. But here? They think he’s alive. Both realities coexist, and they each hold their own truth.”

Pond added, voice calm but measured. “Whatever we do here—our choices, our lives—they happen simultaneously there, in the real world. The world mirrors us. But it’s not exact. Some things are fixed, some are flexible. That’s where the NPCs come in—people who follow scripts, events that repeat, patterns that are predetermined. They exist to hold the reality together.”

Phuwin leaned forward, eyes steady. “Think of it as a reality within a reality. Layers overlapping. Some people are fully aware of both, some only of one. The ones who matter to us, the ones with feelings, agency, and memory—they carry both worlds inside them. That’s why you being here matters. Not as a copy or replacement, but as you.”

Mark’s gaze softened, voice quiet but firm. “It’s complicated, confusing, even cruel at times. But you exist in this space fully. And the people here love you for who you are in this reality—regardless of what’s believed out there.”

Gemini’s hand found Fourth’s again, thumb brushing across knuckles. “I know it’s a lot to take in.”

Fourth exhaled shakily, the enormity of it pressing down on him, but also a strange sense of grounding beginning to form “It’s kind of Messy.”

Phuwin threw up his hands dramatically. “Messy is an understatement. We’ve spent countless hours debating, researching, and trying to make sense of it all. And do you know what the worst part is?”

Mark groaned, leaning back in his chair. “The worst part? Trying to explain it to you without making you think we’ve completely lost it!”

Satang let out a small, weary sigh, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve spent months—maybe years in real time—researching, observing, and discussing just to figure out how it all fits together. How these layers interact. How people, events, even emotions ripple between the realities.”

Pond folded his arms, voice a little exasperated but calm. “It’s exhausting. We’ve debated every detail endlessly. Trying to make sense of something that doesn’t exactly obey logic.”

Gemini smiled softly, squeezing Fourth’s hand. “Yes. And now you know why we get a little… cranky about it sometimes.”

Satang threw a mock glare at them all. “Cranky is an understatement. Exhausted, betrayed by physics, reality itself… yes. But we’re still alive. Barely.”

Fourth’s brow furrowed, his voice quiet “ how do you… move between them? How do you exist in both places?”

Satang exchanged a glance with the others before speaking carefully, his tone steady. “We use mirrors. They’re… portals, in a sense. Not all mirrors work, and not every time. But certain mirrors—special ones—let us pass between the worlds, carrying our consciousness and presence from one to the other.”

Phuwin’s voice was low, almost reverent. “It’s like stepping through a thin layer of glass. One misstep, one moment of hesitation… and you might end up trapped, or worse, fractured across both realities.”

Pond added quietly, serious but calm. “And not everyone can cross. Some people are anchored to one world, unaware of the other. That’s why some of the people here—your parents, your friends—they mirror their real-world selves. They live the same life, just simultaneously, here.”

Mark leaned forward, running a hand through his hair. “We’ve studied it for ages. And even then, explaining it to you… makes me question whether I even understand it in the first place.”

The others nodded, a small chorus of agreement.

Phuwin groaned, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t even start. Every time I try to put it into words, I end up more confused than when we began.”

Fourth swallowed, his throat dry and tight. “This might sound so stupid since I am asking this again. … I’m… here too, right? At the same time as I would be in the real world? But… I don’t there after… after I died?”

Gemini’s hands tightened around his. “Not exactly. You exist here because of what I wrote. In the real world, your absence is real—they grieve you, they remember you as lost. But here… you are alive, breathing, making choices. You’re yourself, not a shadow, not a copy of what they lost.”

Mark ran a hand over his face, voice quiet but steady. “It’s… complicated. You’re part of a reality that mirrors the real one, yes—but the choices you make here… they ripple across the layers in subtle ways. Not always directly, but enough that both worlds respond to the existence of you here.”

Phuwin leaned forward, his tone more somber. “Errr... how do i explain this...Think of it like a reflection in water. You see yourself in the ripples, but you also see the reality that created the reflection. Some things are fixed, some things bend with the motion. That’s how we’ve learned to move across both.”

Pond nodded, voice calm, measured. “To put it simpler… it’s hard to explain fully, but the mirror isn’t just a passage—it’s a connection. A tether between two overlapping worlds.”

Fourth’s chest ached with the enormity of it, mind spinning. “So… I’m real here. But… I’m… I exist because of Gemini’s choice. Because he… wrote me into existence?”

Gemini squeezed his hand, voice trembling with sincerity. “Yes… ”

Gemini’s fork paused mid-air as he glanced at Fourth, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Hey… before all this,” he said softly, leaning a little closer, “you mentioned something about a void… and glass boxes? We’ve never seen anything like that. What do you mean?”

Fourth’s hands froze around his cup, the memory of the endless black, the rows of glass boxes, and the fragile echoes of himself flooding back. He took a shaky breath, trying to find the words. “It’s… hard to explain. It’s like… there’s this empty space, endless and black. And in it… there are these glass boxes. Inside each box… someone’s sleeping. Versions of people… or maybe possibilities… I’m not even sure. I… I saw myself in some of them.”

Mark leaned forward, eyebrows furrowed. “Wait—rows of glass boxes? And versions of yourself?”

“Yes,” Fourth said, voice trembling slightly. “It… it felt real. Too real. And I couldn’t reach them, no matter how hard I tried. But the presence of those boxes… it was like they were holding something important. Something that could have been, or might still be…”

Fourth took a deep breath, trying to steady his voice as he looked at them all. “The void… I entered it through a mirror.”

Mark nearly choked on his coffee, coughing as he waved a hand. “A mirror? You… walked through a mirror into a void?”

“Yes,” Fourth said, nodding. “It was like… the surface rippled under my hand, almost like water. And then… I could step through it. The bedroom disappeared, and I was in the void.”

Fourth hesitated, swallowing nervously. “Do you think… maybe that’s why I saw all those glass boxes with different versions of my self in the void?”

Gemini’s expression hardened.

“Wtf that’s so creepy” Mark shivered and Phuwin nodded in agreement.

Fourth continued “that’s also where I saw Gemini… well not really coz I didn’t see his face, but I saw him writing the story. Because I… don’t exist in the other world like I do here?

“It’s possible. The mirrors aren’t just doors—they’re connections between realities. And if you’re… unique to this one, maybe the void responds differently. Maybe it’s showing all the possibilities of you that could exist elsewhere.” Satang nods,

Mark leaned back, napkin in hand, frowning. “So you’re saying the void… it’s like a storage space for versions of you that never made it into the real world? Or maybe timelines where you do exist?”

Gemini looks troubled.

Phuwin nodded slowly. “It’s a reality within a reality. Mirrors are bridges, but the void itself… it might be a reflection of what’s missing in the real world. And for Fourth… well, the real-world version of him… doesn’t exist. So the void’s showing everything else that’s… suspended.”

Satang grumbled from across the table. “I swear, every time we try to explain this, my brain files it under ‘too much sci-fi before breakfast.’”

Phuwin shrugged. “Or maybe it’s a byproduct of the system. The mirrors open the door, but the void captures what’s left behind—those who shouldn’t be in the other world at that moment.”

Gemini stayed quiet the entire time.

Satang groaned, rubbing his forehead. “This is why we spend hours arguing about how everything works. And now I’m questioning if I even understand it myself.”

“So,” Mark said, breaking the comfortable silence, “now that we’ve explained half of the existential nightmare you’re living in, want to try some breakfast? It’s the one thing in this world that’s guaranteed not to collapse on you.”

Pond slammed his fork down on the table with exaggerated frustration. “Ugh! I’m starving! My breakfast is getting cold while you all sit there jabbering about voids and mirrors!”

Phuwin raised an eyebrow, smirking. “You do realize you could’ve started eating anytime, right?”

Pond waved his hand dramatically. “Not until all the talking was over! I can’t eat properly when the universe is being explained to Fourth!”

Mark chuckled, shaking his head. “I think the Fourth can wait, Pond. Your stomach, apparently, cannot.”

Gemini nudged Fourth lightly, whispering with a grin, “See? Some problems are easier to solve.”

Pond rolled his eyes dramatically, stabbing at a piece of toast with his fork. “Fourth! If you don’t start eating soon, your breakfast is going to get cold—and I refuse to be responsible for cold eggs on your conscience.”

Fourth laughed quietly, finally picking up his fork, while Pond groaned, grabbing a piece of toast and immediately piling on eggs. “Finally! Someone understands the real priorities!”

Chapter Text

The heavy door to Gemini’s apartment clicked shut, cutting them off from the outside world.

The walk back had been quiet. Pond, Phuwin, Satang, and Mark had waited on the sidewalk outside Satang’s building, faces full of worry.

“You sure you’re okay?” Satang asked, his hand on Fourth’s shoulder.

Fourth only nodded slowly. “Yeah... stop worrying now.”

“Call us. For anything. Anytime,” Phuwin said, leaving behind his usual teasing tone.

They hugged, tighter and longer than usual. After a few final pats and worried looks, Gemini gently led Fourth away toward home.

“we still have to finish the moot problem by the end of this week” Satang hollered after them humorously, to which Phuwin slapped the back of his head, “Not now”

Now, in the dim entryway, the day hit them both. The adrenaline that had somewhat faded, leaving a heavy, bone-deep tiredness.

Gemini slid the deadbolt and the noise sounded too loud. He rested his forehead on the door for a moment, then turned.

Fourth stood motionless in the middle of the living room, wrapped around himself, looking small and lost.

“Fourth?” Gemini said softly.

Fourth flinched, blinked, and came back to the room.

Fourth’s lower lip trembled. The brave front he’d given their friends fell away, and the vulnerability he’d shown only to Gemini returned. A tear slid down his cheek, then another.

Gemini’s composure broke too. He opened his arms without speaking.

Fourth sobbed, stumbling into Gemini and burying his face in his shirt. His body shook with silent sobs that came from deep inside. Gemini held him, one hand on the back of his head, the other across his back, steadying him as he fell apart.

“I’ve got you,” Gemini whispered into his hair, tears soaking Fourth’s shirt. “I’m not letting go. I’m right here.”

They stayed like that for a long time.

At last, Fourth’s crying calmed into hiccupping breaths. He pulled back enough to look at Gemini, searching his face like he’d never seen him before.

Fourth reached up and wiped a tear from Gemini’s cheek with his thumb. “You loved me that much?”

“More,” Gemini said simply. “I love you more than anything.”

Fourth let out a shaky, unbelieving laugh. He rested his forehead against Gemini’s, their breaths mingling.

“It’s a lot,” Fourth whispered.

“I know.”

His hand stayed on Gemini’s arm, but his eyes searched his face,

“Gem…” His voice was low, uneven. “Are you telling me everything? The whole truth?”

Gemini froze, breath catching.

Fourth’s grip tightened slightly. “You’re still hiding something from me. Right?” His words shook, half plea, half demand.

The question hung between them, shifting the air in the room. The warmth of comfort gave way to unease, like the ground beneath them wasn’t as solid as they thought.

Gemini’s throat worked, but no sound came. His silence said as much as any answer could.

Fourth’s chest rose and fell faster, his eyes glistening again. “There is something, isn’t there?”

Gemini blinked, forcing his face into a mask of puzzlement. He tilted his head slightly, as if he didn’t understand. “What do you mean?” His tone was soft, almost careful, like he was trying to ease Fourth away from the edge.

“Don’t,” Fourth shot back, voice cracking. “Don’t do that thing where you act like you don’t know what I’m talking about. I can feel it, Gem. You’re holding something back.”

Gemini let out a quiet laugh, short and unconvincing. “Fourth, I told you everything I could. You know it all now.”

But even as he said it, his eyes slid away, just for a second too long.

Fourth’s breath hitched. “You’re lying,”

Fourth’s voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “Gem…” Eyes flicking away before returning to Gemini. “Those glass boxes I saw. All those… versions of me.” His throat worked as he forced the words out. “When I mentioned it earlier why did you stay quiet?”

Gemini stiffened, blinking as if caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

Fourth’s tone sharpened, cutting through Gemini’s weak denial. “Back there, when I told you what I saw—you went quiet. You never go quiet when it’s about me. Ever. Unless…” His voice cracked, “…unless you were hiding something.”

Fourth’s voice broke low and shaking. “Those glass boxes… all those versions of me. You did that, didn’t you?” His eyes burned into Gemini’s. “You created them. Did’t you?”

Gemini’s chest tightened. He blinked fast, shaking his head too quickly. “What? No, Fourth, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tell me the truth,” Fourth whispered, barely audible.

Gemini’s eyes dropped to the floor. His chest rose and fell, uneven. “Fourth…” he started, but stopped, his throat too tight to go on.

Gemini’s mouth opened, then closed. His hands twitched uselessly at his sides. Panic flickered across his face before he tried again, softer this time, almost begging, “Fourth, it wasn’t like that. I didn’t mean—”

Fourth stepped back, arms wrapping around himself. “So, it’s true.”

Gemini’s shoulders slumped. He covered his face with his hands, dragging them down slowly. His voice was hoarse, breaking. “I… I wrote so many versions before you. Drafts that didn’t work, ones I abandoned. They weren’t supposed to exist anywhere. They were just words. Just mistakes on paper. I never thought—” His breath shuddered.

Gemini’s eyes filled with tears. “I didn’t know. Fourth, I swear to you—I never knew.”

“I never meant for them to hurt. I swear,” Gemini whispered.

Fourth’s eyes narrowed. “You’re still lying.”

Gemini froze. “…What?”

“You think I can’t tell?” Fourth snapped, his voice low but cutting. “I know you, Gemini Norawit.”

Gemini’s throat worked, but no sound came.

Fourth stepped closer, accusation sharp in his words. “That’s not the truth. You’re still keeping it from me. Even now. After everything.”

“Those boxes in the void. The other versions of me. They weren't just abandoned drafts, were they, Gem?”

Gemini tenses, fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve as if to stop himself from falling apart. He tries to deflect, voice small and too-fast. “I told you, I didn’t know—”

Fourth cuts him off. The calm in his tone sharpens into something cold. “How many times? How many times have you rewritten me? And more importantly…”

He lifts his head, finally meeting Gemini’s eyes with a clarity that makes the room feel thin.

“...how many times have I killed myself to get out of this?”

The question lands like a strike. For a moment there is nothing but the hollow sound of their breathing. Gemini's face goes pale. His mouth opens, no sound comes. He looks at Fourth like a man who world just crumbled.

Gemini swallows. His hands drop to his sides, shaking. He cannot meet Fourth’s eyes — then he forces himself to. “I—” he starts, voice cracking, but the single syllable breaks into a sob. The space between them feels suddenly too small for the confession that waits there.

Gemini’s his whole body seeming to fold inward. The sob caught in his throat burned as it came out. He dragged his hands down his face, eyes wet and wild.

“How…?” His voice broke, raw with disbelief and shame.

“My first thought,” Fourth cut in, voice small, “when I figured out what I was… what you’d done… was to erase myself. To get out of the story. To set you free. To let you move on from a ghost.” He looked down for a beat, then back up, every word measured. “I thought the only way to stop the pain was to stop existing in it.”

Gemini’s chest tightened, a sharp, painful rhythm. He stepped forward, voice trembling but desperate. “You will not— Fourth, I love you … I had to bring you back. I had to rewrite you. I had to reboot the story so you could exist. So, we could exist.”

Fourth’s eyes widened, disbelief flickering across his face. “Holy shit… I wasn’t sure, but you… that actually happened? You crazy bastard?”

Gemini’s throat tightened. “Yes. Every time. Every time I lost you, I wrote you again. Because I couldn’t stand a world without you in it. Even if it—” His voice broke.

Fourth’s chest tightened. He looked down, shoving a hand into his hair, trying to process it. “This is batshit crazy! Gem do you hear yourself?”

Fourth staggered back slightly, horrified. “Gem… this isn’t living! This is… this is madness! You’re trapping us both in this endless loop!”

Gemini’s lips curled into a bitter, desperate smile. “Madness? Maybe. But it’s my truth. And it’s my love. And I will never, never let you go, Fourth Nattawat. Not now. Not ever.”

Fourth stepped closer, desperation creeping into his calm, his voice pleading. “Gem… you’re lying to yourself. You need to move on from me… from Fourths death. You shouldn’t be doing this. You can’t keep rewriting me.”

Then something in Gemini snapped. Everything twisted together, morphing into a desperate, possessive fury. He stood taller, voice low and trembling with intensity. “If you erase yourself, I will just write you back. I will do it a thousand times. A million. I will NEVER STOP. You DON’T get to leave me. NOT AGAIN.”

Fourth recoiled, horror flashing across his face. “Gemini! This is a cage you’ve built for both of us! You need to let me go. You need to move on!”

Gemini’s eyes flared, his voice hardening. “Move on? To what? This is my reality.”

Fourth’s chest rose and fell rapidly. His jaw tightened. “You’re… you’re insane.”

“And I don’t care,” Gemini shot back, stepping closer. “Because I can’t lose you. I can’t. Every time I’ve had even a glimpse of you disappearing… I’ve rewritten you. Every single time. And I’ll keep doing it. Because I love you. And I will never, ever let you go.”

Fourth’s chest heaved, every breath shallow and sharp. “I… I can’t stay here. This isn’t living!”

Gemini stiffened.

Gemini’s voice sliced through him, calm, cold, and merciless. “You want to erase yourself? Fine. But it’s not just you in this story, is it?”

Fourth froze, a chill crawling up his spine. “…What do you mean?”

“If you erase yourself, I will reboot everything… what happens to Win?” Gemini asked.

Fourth’s stomach dropped. “What… what about Win?”

“Satang’s Win,” Gemini said, his tone sharp. “He doesn’t exist out there. I wrote him here, for Satang. He lives and breathes only in this storyline. If you end this… you don’t just destroy yourself. You erase the love of Satang’s life. Could you do that to him? Could you bear that weight?”

The words hit like a hammer. Fourth staggered back, the air knocked out of him. It felt like a trap slammed shut around him.

“You… you dragged them all into this?” Fourth’s voice cracked, raw and ragged. “Our friends… you used them as… as collateral? How could you be so… so selfish?!”

Gemini’s expression was pained, but his stance was unyielding. “I will use anything. Anyone. To keep you.”

Fourth’s heart clenched. He swallowed hard, tears pricking the edges of his eyes. Gemini stepped closer, voice dropping to a dark, devastating calm. “And your mother… she finally has her son back. After the agony of losing you once… you would make her live through it again? You would let her believe I failed, that her son is gone forever? Could you do that to her?”

Fourth stumbled back, hands clawing at his arms as if he could scrape the weight of Gemini’s words off himself. His knees buckled and he sank to the floor, curling into himself, chest heaving in ragged bursts.

Tears streamed unchecked, hot and bitter, dripping into the fabric of his shirt. His fingers dug into the carpet, knuckles white, as if gripping the ground could stop the world from twisting around him.

Gemini knelt in front of him, fingers trembling as they hovered over Fourth’s shaking arms. He didn’t touch him at first, just watched, his own eyes glistening. “Fourth… look at me,” he said, voice low and urgent, almost breaking. “I will never hurt you. I… I can’t lose you.”

Fourth’s head jerked up, eyes wild, searching Gemini’s face through a blur of tears. He pressed his palms to his face, then yanked them away, gripping his hair, trembling from the inside out. His lips parted, gasping between sobs. “This is… so manipulative!”

Fourth’s hands shook violently, fingers curling into trembling fists. His chest heaved, each breath jagged and sharp, his whole body taut with helpless rage. His voice, low and raw, cut through the thick silence of the apartment. “You’re a monster.”

Something inside Gemini cracked. Every layer of restraint he had built across months, across countless rewrites, collapsed in a single, devastating instant. His shoulders sagged, his spine folding as if the weight of what he’d done had physically crushed him. His lips quivered uncontrollably, a soft, strangled noise escaping before it erupted into full sobs.

He sank to his knees, his body shaking with each violent shudder of grief. The floor beneath him seemed too small, too confining for the storm raging inside. “YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW THAT?!” he screamed, voice hoarse and breaking, raw with months of buried agony. “You call me a monster? I had to watch you die! Not once! OVER AND OVER AND OVER AGAIN!”

Gemini pressed his face into his hands, knuckles digging into his skin, shoulders heaving as if each breath was a battle. His words ripped out in ragged gasps, fragmented by sobs. “Every time… every time… you found a way… a car… a fall… you’d just… stop… and look at me… and say… you were doing it so I could move on…” His throat shook violently, words breaking under the weight of what he had endured.

“I SCREAMED AT YOU! I BEGGED YOU! I told you I would never move on! NEVER! Do you hear me? NEVER!”

He finally lifted his tear-streaked face, eyes blazing with a feral desperation, pupils wide and wild. Every line of his face was raw grief and pleading, unhinged despair made flesh. “So yes! I used Satang! I used your mother! I used everyone! I would use the whole world if it meant keeping you here! I don’t care anymore! I… I can’t… I can’t watch you leave me again…”

The apartment felt smaller now, the walls closing in under his confession.

Fourth’s heart slammed violently in his chest. He pressed his palms to his face, digging fingers into his temples, trying to block the image of all those deaths, all those versions of himself lost in the void, all the lives Gemini had bent and broken to bring him back. But the images wouldn’t leave.

Gemini’s hands scrabbled against the floor, nails scraping wood as if the friction could tether him to something real. His fingers curled tightly around Fourth’s legs, clinging as though letting go would make the world dissolve beneath him. His entire body trembled, shoulders heaving violently with the force of his sobs, and his forehead pressed hard against Fourth’s knees, leaving streaks of tears and sweat on the fabric of his pants.

Every shudder that wracked him seemed to fracture him further, his frame twisting into itself, hunched and fragile, yet unwilling to release the hold he had found. The desperation radiating from him was tangible, a suffocating heat that filled the small apartment, and each ragged breath came with a quiet, shivering whimper.

“I… I don’t know how this power works!” His voice cracked, ragged, breaking with the weight of months — no, years — of fear, guilt, and love. “I didn’t ask for it! I never wanted it!” His grip tightened suddenly, knuckles whitening as his hands dug into Fourth’s thighs, fingers pressing painfully, as if the physical hold could match the intensity of his inner turmoil. “But I have it… I have it! There… there must be a reason… it must be for this… to keep you…”

His forehead pressed against Fourth’s knees, breath hot and uneven. “It has to be for this… to keep you! Do you understand? I can’t… I can’t lose you again. Not like this. Not ever. Every time you’ve… every time you’ve gone… I’ve felt it in my bones! The world… it stops. And I… I…” He broke off, shuddering, letting out a strangled sob.

He looked up, eyes glassy and desperate, pleading. “I know it’s wrong. I know it’s… it’s selfish. I see that! But… I can’t help it! Every version… every time I’ve rewritten you… I did it because I needed you alive! Because if you weren’t… if you weren’t here… I… I don’t know what I’d do. I can’t even imagine it…”

Fourth’s fingers twitched, hovering over Gemini’s trembling arms. He wanted to push him away, to stand up, to escape the suffocating intensity—but instead, he stayed rooted, letting Gemini cling to him, the room heavy with grief, obsession, and a love that was terrifying in its entirety.

He let out a broken laugh, bitter and soft. “I’m a fool, I know. A monster, maybe. But I would be worse if I let you go. I can’t, Fourth. I just… I just can’t.”

Gemini’s hands shook as he clutched Fourth’s legs tighter, leaning closer, voice dropping to a trembling whisper. “Please… just… just stay with me. I don’t care what I have to do, I’ll do anything. Just… don’t leave me. Not ever. Please…”

Gemini’s hands trembled as they gripped Fourth’s legs, fingers digging just enough to hurt.

His voice was barely above a whisper, breaking with every word, each one weighted with the entirety of his fear and longing. “So… please… Fourth… please just tell me…” His lips quivered, his throat tight. “…do you not love me anymore?”

He swallowed hard, eyes glimmering with a fragile, almost trembling hope. “Because for me…” His voice cracked, trembling to nothing more than a shuddered breath. “…it’s the only real thing I have left.”

Fourth sagged to the floor, trembling, tears streaming freely down his face. His chest heaved, breath jagged and uneven, as Gemini’s words. Every syllable tore through the last defenses he had left, shattering the anger, the fear, the betrayal, leaving only raw, aching heartbreak.

The boy he had loved, the boy who still loved him, broken and trembling before him. His chest ached with a pain that was almost physical, every ragged breath a reminder of how deeply he cared.

He couldn’t look away from Gemini’s trembling form, the way the boy clutched his legs, forehead pressed to his knees, hands shaking, eyes wide with unguarded terror.

And then, without thinking, without hesitation, he moved. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Gemini, pulling him close, pressing him into his chest. He could feel the tremors running through Gemini’s body, the soft sobs shaking against him, and all Fourth felt in response was the fierce, burning need to protect him, to hold him, to never let him go.

He pressed his face into Gemini’s damp hair, feeling the shuddering sobs against his chest, letting them mingle with his own.

Gemini’s fists balled into the fabric of Fourth’s shirt, knuckles white, trembling as if he was holding on for life itself. His face pressed hard into Fourth’s chest, voice breaking apart in wet, uneven gasps.

“Please… Fourth…” The words tumbled out, raw and cracked. “Just love me. That’s all—just love me.”

Gemini’s chest heaved with ragged gasps, each breath trembling with the terror of absence, eyes wide and glassy, unable to look away from Fourth even as shame twisted his gut. “I… I can’t lose you, again” he whispered, voice raw and breaking, the words spilling out faster than he could contain. His tears streaked Fourth’s shirt, warm and wet.

“How… how could you do this to me?!” His voice was ragged, trembling with horror and accusation. “Do you even know what it felt like to watch you… to watch you—” His throat constricted, choking on the memory. “Die… over and over… and I… I couldn’t save you!” “Do you understand? Every time… every single time… it’s like my heart was ripped out, and I was forced to watch as you vanished! And it’s… it’s your fault!”

“I… I’m broken, Fourth! Do you even hear me?!” His fists clenched, digging painfully into Fourth’s arms. “You did this… you let this happen… and I—God, I couldn’t stop it! I couldn’t save you! How… how could you do this to me?”

Gemini’s voice dropped to a trembling, haunted whisper, clutching Fourth’s legs as though holding him close could stop the world from crumbling again. “I… I needed you… and you… you kept leaving me… over and over…” His tears soaked through both of them, and the apartment felt smaller, suffocating under the mass of his grief and the bitter sting of betrayal.

He pulled back suddenly, eyes red and wet, lips trembling. The sheer terror in his gaze made Fourth’s stomach lurch. “I’m broken,” he rasped, shaking his head violently, as though denying himself. “Broken beyond repair. I can’t—” His chest hitched, he swallowed hard. “I can’t fix me. I can’t stop. I don’t know how.”

His fingers slid up Fourth’s arms, digging in, clutching with frantic need. “But if you love me…” His voice fell to a hoarse whisper, words barely holding together. “…if you love me, maybe it won’t matter.”

Gemini’s shoulders shook, a sob forcing its way out as he tightened his grip. His forehead pressed against Fourth’s again, their breaths mingling, his words spilling between ragged shudders.

Gemini’s hands clutched at Fourth’s shirt, gripping like a lifeline, trembling against him. He shuddered against Fourth’s chest, sobs breaking through in ragged, desperate bursts.

Fourth tightened his hold, rocking slightly, letting Gemini lean into him.

Chapter Text

(Gemini’s POV)

The first time, it was because he was careless. Or at least Gemini told himself that, for years after.

Fourth’s laugh still echoed in the apartment when Gemini slipped. A careless detail, too much eagerness bleeding into his voice. He’d been so happy, so proud of what he had made, what he had saved. He hadn’t noticed the way Fourth’s face faltered, the shadow that crept into his expression.

Later, Gemini found the sheet of paper torn from his notebook—his handwriting. The ink had smudged where someone’s thumb pressed too hard against it, as if trying to erase the words by force alone.

Fourth knew.

He watched realization slowly dawn on Fourth. Fourth would stare at his hands, his reflection, the walls of the apartment, as though everything had become foreign in an instant. His voice, when he finally spoke, was hollow, strangled. “I’m… not even alive, am I?”

Gemini scrambled, panicked, swore it wasn’t true, that he was realer than anyone. But the more he said, the worse it became. Fourth’s face broke open with grief and something worse—understanding.

And then…

The terrace door creaked open in the night. Gemini woke too late. He saw only the flicker of movement, the silhouette slipping into the dark. A single line, almost like narration bleeding into the air around him ‘Fourth stepped off the terrace and into the silent night.’

The world went still.

At first, Gemini laughed—high, brittle, choking. It had to be a mistake. Just a line. Just words. But when he stumbled toward the terrace, he saw it, the way the air below had warped into static, a body collapsing into it like glass breaking, pieces dissolving into nothing.

“NO!” The scream tore from his throat, raw and violent. He dropped to his knees, clutching at the railing until his knuckles split against metal. His chest heaved, his body wouldn’t obey him. “No, no, no, no—you can’t—”

He vomited onto the tiles, sobs racking him, bile stinging his throat. His whole body shook with a cold that came from inside, a void clawing up his ribs.

He blamed himself. A careless slip, too much eagerness in his voice, and the truth cracked open in Fourth’s eyes. I killed him. I failed to protect him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Fourth was a miracle, his second chance, the center of his universe. This was wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Gemini staggered back inside, tearing through his desk until he found the notebook. His hands shook so violently that the pen scrawled across the page in jagged lines. Tears blurred the ink, smudging it into stains.

I can fix this. I can fix this. I just need to go back to before he knew. Before he figured it. Before he looked at me like that.

He wrote frantically, his breath ragged, his sobs echoing in the dim apartment. The words poured out of him like blood, desperate and wild, pulling him under. Each line was a plea, a spell, a refusal to accept the silence of the terrace.

He didn’t die. He never opened the terrace door. Fourth laughed again, and it was just a dream. Fourth is alive. Fourth is alive. Fourth is alive.

When Gemini looked up, his vision swam. His ears rang. The air felt different. And then—he heard it. No change.

His pen clattered to the floor. His sob broke into a hysterical laugh.

Gemini didn’t wait to understand. He ripped the page free and wrote like a man trying to stop an earthquake with tape.

He attempted a full undo — that felt impossibly huge, like cutting and sewing the sky. He scribbled a reboot, a careful rewind, a stitch of time that tucked the terrible moment away. Fingers shaking so hard the ink feathered, he wrote a single, absolute line, Fourth never noticed the flicker in the mirror that day. He circled it, kissed it with more ink, as if sealing it with blood.

For a breathless hour the apartment held its breath with him. Then Fourth walked in from the kitchen, hair damp, grin easy, the way he used to look at Gemini—the way he looked before he knew. He laughed at nothing, he admired a silly mug. Relief uncoiled inside Gemini and then snapped into something feral. He moved to Fourth like someone saving a child from a car, hands hovering, then clamped around him so tight Fourth flinched.

“Don’t go anywhere,” Gemini whispered, voice shrunken to a raw edge. He watched Fourth eat, watched Fourth sleep, followed him into the bathroom just to see him brush his teeth. He smoothed Fourth’s hair as if arranging a fragile statue. Paranoia sat at the table with them, a third presence that watched the corners.

It lasted a little longer that time. Longer than the first. And when the crack opened again it felt obscene and inevitable. Fourth’s eyes found a margin of paper, or a line of print glancing from a phone, or a mirror caught at the wrong angle—some small, honest glitch in the seam Gemini had tried to sew. Understanding spread over Fourth’s face like frost. The horror returned.

Every time the method changed but not the outcome. Pills in a bottle with someone else’s name. A walk into a careless street, the brakes failing like fate itself. A leap from a place that used to be safe. Gemini found him each time, a slack hand, a mouth open to a silence that smelled like cotton and static.

Fourth drowning in the river, his body glitching like corrupted code beneath the surface, bubbles rising as if the world itself was trying to purge him. Gemini’s scream echoed uselessly across the water.

Fourth, calm this time, sitting cross-legged on the floor. He reached for Gemini’s pen with a sad smile and whispered, “If you love me, write me gone.” Gemini’s hand trembled as he refused, but Fourth pulled the notebook anyway and scrawled his own erasure across the page. His body dissolved as the ink dried.

Fourth fading like smoke, simply unraveling with every exhale. Gemini grabbed at him, arms closing on air. His voice turned feral, begging, ordering, commanding him to stay, but Fourth’s face slipped through his fingers like sand. The scene was different, the core was the same. The world shrank to a single fact, Fourth gone.

But the breakdown in Gemini’s chest evolved. The first few times had been raw dismantling—screams and rubble. By the seventh and eighth deaths he had learned a pattern. The panic’s edges dulled into a machine. Sobs cut shorter, replaced by the urgent clutch of hands at a railing, the immediate, practiced scramble for the notebook. He would drop to his knees, fingers finding the pen as if muscle memory ran through bone. Words spilled out, Rewind to— Erase that memory—Insert a forgetful morning—precise commands, small lies to the universe.

He rewrote with the speed of someone who had practiced catastrophe enough to anticipate its rhythms. Relief came faster too, a laugh returned, a familiar joke, the warmth of Fourth’s shoulder in bed. Gemini became possessive in new, sharper ways—checking the locks twice, answering Fourth’s phone, moving the lamp so shadows fell differently. He began to test the seams himself, angling mirrors, hiding pages, to see if the world would betray him again.

But it would repeat. Over and over and over.

Each death carved another hollow in Gemini. At first he screamed. Then he wept. Then he vomited, clawed at his own skin, bled into the margins of the pages. But the cycle hardened into something more grotesque. By the twelfth time, he barely paused. A grunt, a curse, the scrape of chair legs as he hurled himself at the desk.

Each time it failed, the failure carved deeper grooves into him. The grief compressed into obsession, the obsession into control. He did not sleep for nights, he wrote through tremors and nausea. He rewrote Fourth into happier versions, then sadder, then ordinary, trying permutations like prayers.

Each time Fourth discovered the truth, each time he chose to leave, Gemini’s grief curdled into fury. He would weep, yes, vomit until bile burned his throat, tear at his skin until he bled. And under that grief, resentment festered. Why do you keep doing this to me? Why do you keep abandoning me? He told himself he loved Fourth beyond life, beyond reason—but he could not stop seeing every self-erasure as betrayal.

Fourth’s calm goodbyes cut deeper than any sudden death. When he whispered, “If you love me, write me gone,” Gemini felt not just grief, but rage. You say you love me, yet you vanish. You say I matter, yet you leave me in ruins.  Am I not enough for you to stay. His guilt screamed it was his fault. His resentment snarled it was Fourth’s choice.

The cycle wore him raw. Sleep abandoned him long ago. His eyes were bloodshot, ringed with bruised shadows, lids twitching with the weight of a hundred sleepless nights. He muttered edits under his breath as though narrating to himself, like a priest repeating liturgy. His notebooks sprawled across the room like bodies, pages curled and soaked with sweat, smeared with desperate half-erased lines.

Even his grief had become mechanical. The sobs came in fragments now, short bursts that broke through only because the body demanded them. Tears blurred the ink but dried too quickly, leaving salt crusted on his cheeks. The rest was motion. Automatic. A body trained by repetition.

Sometimes, between rewrites, he stared at his reflection in the dark glass of the window. He barely recognized the figure there—hollow cheeks, a jaw tight with rage and fatigue, eyes empty except for the feverish gleam of obsession. He looked like something rewoven too many times, threads pulled and knotted until the shape lost meaning.

His room turned unrecognizable—piles of manuscripts slumped in corners, pages curled with sweat and tears, words scrawled over words until the paper tore. Coffee cups grew mold, ashtrays overflowed. The curtains never opened. He looked gaunt, skin paper-thin over sharp bones, his eyes wide and red-rimmed, moving too fast, too often.

His sentences became walls, carefully mortared over every mirror, every loose thread, every flicker that could hint at the truth. He edited out chance encounters, deleted reflective surfaces, rewrote conversations so tightly they strangled any spark of curiosity.

And somewhere in the blur of sleepless days, he just couldn’t keep Fourth alive. He felt like the story itself had become his enemy, taunting him with inevitability. Fourth’s self-destruction no longer felt like a tragedy, it was betrayal.

“You won’t take him from me again,” Gemini muttered through cracked lips, hand cramping around the pen. “You won’t. I won’t let you.”

No matter how many corpses it took to get there.

And it happened again.

“I am doing this because I love you,” Fourth whispered. His voice was soft, but the words rang like a bell, too pure, too final.

Gemini’s breath came ragged, shallow. His fingers dug crescents into Fourth’s wrists, desperate enough to bruise. “No. Don’t. Please—”

“You need to live a real life,” Fourth said. His eyes shone with unshed tears, but his smile was calm, almost holy. “Let me go.”

The warmth drained from his skin first. Gemini felt it, the temperature shifting, the heat leaving his palms. Fourth’s shoulders blurred, his outline unraveling in slow, delicate shivers of static, like ash caught in an invisible wind. Gemini lunged forward, tried to hold him together with sheer force, but his hands closed on nothing.

The last thing that remained was his mouth, shaping the words I love you, before even that faded.

The last of Fourth’s warmth slipped through Gemini’s fingers, a ghostly residue that left the air around him hollow and humming. His eyes tracked the fading outline of the boy he loved, the shimmer of his form unraveling like smoke curling from an extinguished flame. The apartment felt suddenly enormous, the walls stretching away, empty shelves looming like the ribs of a skeletal beast.

His chest burned. Each breath rasped past dry, raw lips, and his hands shook violently, quivering as though trying to clutch the nothingness before him. The carpet beneath his knees was threadbare, littered with crumpled scraps of paper and broken pens, ink smudged into the fibers like dried blood. The lamp flickered once, twice, casting Fourth’s absence across the room in jagged, shifting shadows.

Gemini sank to the floor, fingers dragging through the scattered manuscripts, the pages curling and tearing under his grip. He swallowed hard, throat tight, mind racing. He had chased every ending, rewritten every choice, but this—was a logic he couldn’t outmaneuver. Fourth’s love for him, had been his undoing. Every time Gemini thought he could protect him, save him, the boy had erased himself in a cruel act of devotion.

Gemini was tired of grieving. Tired of begging. Tired of bleeding ink just to watch it all unravel again.

He hated the world for conspiring against him. He hated the notebook for mocking him with its useless lines. He hated Fourth most of all—because Fourth kept choosing to leave.

He had given everything. He had rewritten the sky. He had torn his own soul to shreds to keep Fourth alive. And still, it wasn’t enough. Still, the boy chose absence.

“Traitor,” Gemini spat once into the empty room, his voice hoarse from sleepless nights. The word echoed, ugly and raw, bouncing off the walls. He slammed his fist against the desk until his knuckles split and blood smeared across a half-finished page. “I gave you everything. And you left me anyway.”

He pressed his palms against the floor, knuckles whitening, and lifted his gaze to the empty space where Fourth had been. The silence pressed in like water, suffocating, oppressive, yet sharp with possibility.

If love made Fourth vanish, then love could be twisted. If devotion demanded death, then desire could demand life. Gemini’s hands hovered over the scattered pages, trembling as the first flickers of his plan sparked in his mind. A cruel clarity settled over him, chilling and inevitable.

He would change the equation. He would alter the rules. He would make it impossible for him to leave. Gemini’s jaw tightened, a thin smile flickering across gaunt cheeks. His eyes glittered wetly in the dim light.

“If dying for me is love… then I’ll make living for me impossible to resist.”

.

.

The air in Gemini’s apartment was stale, thick with the scent of forgotten coffee and stagnant grief. He’d left one lamp on, its weak, yellow light doing little to push back the shadows that clung to the corners of the room like cobwebs. Manuscript pages weren’t scattered so much as curated—neat piles that suggested a mind clinging to the last vestiges of order, while the hollowed-out takeout containers and the blanket piled on the couch whispered of a deeper decay.

He’d missed three gatherings. His texts had become brief, cryptic monuments to sadness.
‘Can’t make it. Head’s not right.’
‘Sorry. Just need some space.’
‘Don’t worry about me.’

The soft, hesitant knock on the door was his cue. Right on time. He took a final, steadying breath, then let his shoulders slump, made his face go blank.

He opened the door, and there they were. All of them. His audience. Satang stood at the front, his usual composed expression fractured by a deep crease of worry between his brows. Pond hovered just behind his shoulder, eyes wide and soft with care. Phuwin’s arms were crossed, and Mark lingered at the back

“Gem,” Satang began, his voice a low. “We’re coming in.”

They filed into the dim apartment, their eyes scanning the evidence of his staged despair. Gemini didn’t meet their gazes. He just shuffled back to the couch and sank into it, pulling a worn, leather-bound notebook onto his lap and clutching it to his chest like a shield—or a confession.

“You’ve been ghosting us, man,” Phuwin said, his tone sharper than the others, born from a place of sheer concern. “What the hell is going on? You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

Gemini let his eyelids flutter shut for a moment, as if the mere act of being perceived was exhausting. He leaned into the performance, making his body language scream of a weight too heavy to bear.

“It’s nothing,” he mumbled, his voice raspy, deliberately underused. “Just… writing. Thinking.”

“This isn’t nothing, Gemini,” Pond said softly, taking a cautious step closer. He gestured vaguely at the room, at Gemini himself. “This is… you’re fading away. We can see it. Talk to us. Please.”

Pond stepped closer, voice soft but firm. “We’re not here to judge, Gem. We just… we want to understand. What is it you’re doing? What’s happening with you?”

Phuwin added, frowning, “You’re pushing us away. You barely look at us anymore. You live somewhere else, somewhere we can’t follow. And we can’t just… watch you vanish without knowing why.”

Mark, usually quiet, spoke last, voice almost a whisper, “Gem, we’ve been your friends for years. We’ve seen you through everything. We don’t want to lose you to… whatever this is.”

Gemini finally looked up, making sure his eyes were glassy, unfocused. He let his gaze drift over each of them. He saw the genuine fear in Satang’s eyes, the soft heartache in Pond’s, the irritated worry in Phuwin’s, the silent plea in Mark’s.

Perfect.

He brought a hand up to rub his temple, letting his fingers tremble just noticeably. “I… I don’t know how to explain it,” he started, his voice cracking on the last word. He clutched the notebook tighter. “It’s like… I get lost. In here.” He tapped the cover.

He made himself small, fragile. Pitiable.

“We are here for you, Gem.” Satang prompted, his voice gentle but insistent. He took a seat in the armchair opposite, leaning forward. “What’s in the notebook, Gem?”

Gemini drew a shaky breath, a masterclass in feigned vulnerability. He looked down at the book in his hands, then back at his friends, his expression a mask of tortured confusion.

He took a shaky breath. “I… I can’t explain it fully,” he admitted finally. “But… there’s someone. Someone I’ve… I’ve brought here. Alive. Through my stories. Through… the mirror.”

Satang’s mouth opened and closed once, twice, but no words came. His brows drew together, deepening the crease above his nose.

Gemini pressed his lips together, trying to steady his voice. “I know it sounds… impossible. But it’s real. At least, it feels real. And I… I’ve grown to love him. I can’t stop thinking about him, can’t stop wanting to be there. I—”

Satang finally broke the silence, voice low but commanding, “Gem, we need to understand. We need to see this. Not to judge, not to take anything away, or even stop you, but to help you… not get lost completely.”

He let the sentence hang there. He made himself sound as if he was a grieving boy who’d found a dangerous, mesmerizing way to break his own heart every day (which he was). And he had made sure they were all there to witness it.

“Gem,” Satang said, his voice low, careful, the way one might speak to a sleepwalker on a ledge. “What are you talking about?”

This was it. Gemini let his shoulders curl inward, making himself smaller. He dropped his gaze to the notebook, his thumb stroking the worn leather as if it were a holy relic. He let the silence stretch, building the pressure in the room until it was unbearable.

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” he mumbled, his voice thick with feigned shame. “I know how it sounds.”

“Just tell us,” Phuwin urged, his earlier frustration now entirely replaced by a tense, apprehensive curiosity.

Gemini took a shuddering breath, the picture of a man reluctantly confessing his greatest secret. He looked up, letting his eyes glisten with unshed tears, making sure his gaze was hazy.

“I… I found a way,” he began, his voice cracking on the last word. He swallowed hard. “To see him again. It’s not real,” he rushed to add, holding up a trembling hand to preempt their disbelief. “I know it’s not. I’m not insane. It’s just… stories. Just words I write. And sometimes… in the mirror…”

He trailed off, letting the absurdity and the poetry of it hang in the air. He had to pretend like wasn’t claiming a miracle, he was confessing a delusion. A pathetic, heartbreaking coping mechanism.

“But when it works…” he continued, his voice dropping to a reverent whisper, showing a small, broken smile. “He’s there. He laughs. He smiles. It’s just a reflection, a trick of the light and my own stupid grief… but it feels real. And I… I go there when the real world gets too much. It’s the only thing that… helps.”

He finally let a single tear escape, tracing a path down his cheek. He didn’t wipe it away, it was evidence of his pain, his vulnerability.

The reaction was exactly as he’d intended. Their skepticism was instantly diluted by a powerful, dangerous wave of empathy and curiosity. See him again. The phrase was a hook, and he had set it perfectly.

Satang’s stern expression completely faltered, his analytical mind seemingly short-circuiting in the face of such raw, bizarre emotion. His eyes were wide, just… yearning.

Pond’s own eyes glistened, mirroring Gemini’s feigned tears. His care had morphed into a palpable, aching want. The idea, however impossible, was too sweet to outright deny.

Phuwin was just staring, his mouth slightly agape, all his frustrated love now channeled into a single, overwhelming question, Could it be?

Mark, from the back of the room, finally spoke, his voice hushed. “In the mirror?”

Gemini nodded, a slow, weary motion. “In the mirror.”

It was a longing to see Fourth they all shared, and Gemini had just offered them a key to a door they never knew existed. He had baited the trap, he was not lying, he only gave them a version of the truth they were all desperate to believe.

Gemini’s grip tightening on the notebook. He looked down at it, then back at them, “I… I could show you,” he whispered, as if the words were being torn from him. He immediately recoiled from the idea, shaking his head. “No. No, I shouldn’t. It’s… it’s not stable. It might… I don’t know what might happen.”

It was the finest reverse psychology, making the forbidden fruit glisten. He was not going to make an offer, but a withdrawal. It’s too precious, too dangerous for you.

“Show us,” Phuwin said, his voice low and intense, all traces of frustration gone, replaced by a burning need. “Gem, you have to show us.”

“Please,” Pond breathed.

Gemini let them plead for another moment, let their desire build into a palpable force. Finally, with the air of a man succumbing to a terrible temptation, he nodded slowly. “Okay,” he rasped. “I… I’ll show you. But… you have to understand. He’s not real in our world. Not really. But he’s… everything to me here.”

He led them to his bedroom, to the large standing mirror in the corner. It was just a mirror, reflecting their anxious, pale faces in the dim room. He positioned them in a semicircle behind him, their breaths held.

The mirror’s surface rippled under his touch, cool and shimmering, and one by one, he guided his friends closer. “Watch,” he murmured. “Just… watch.”

He opened the notebook turning to a specific, dog-eared page. The scene he meticulously chose. It was Fourth, captured in a moment of pure, sun-drenched joy, sitting at an outdoor café, head thrown back in laughter at some unheard joke. The light was golden, his smile was effortless, and he looked so vibrantly, undeniably alive. It was a vision designed to eviscerate resistance.

Gemini lifted his hand. He pressed his fingertips to the glass.

And the mirror… changed.

It shimmered, the way heat rises off summer pavement. The reflection of his bedroom melted away, replaced by the café scene. The transition was gentle, beautiful, a seamless blending of realities. The sound of distant traffic and cheerful chatter spilled into the room, soft and muffled, as if heard from a distance. The scent of fresh coffee and pastries ghosted through the stale air of the apartment. He had to make it so that the boys weren’t viewing it as a terrifying portal to another dimension.

And there he was. Fourth. Not a ghost, not a memory. Solid. Real. He took a sip of his drink, still smiling to himself.

The reaction was instantaneous.

A sharp, choked sob escaped Pond. Tears welled and spilled over instantly, tracking silently down his cheeks. His hand was pressed over his heart, as if trying to keep it from beating out of his chest.

Phuwin made a sound—a hiccup of pure, unadulterated disbelief. He blinked rapidly, his brain refusing to process what his eyes were seeing.

Mark froze completely. Every muscle locked. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, absorbing the impossible sight. He didn't breathe. He just… stared, his very soul seeming to hang in the balance.

“He’s… real?” Mark whispered.

Satang, leaned closer, his gaze scanning every detail—the way the light hit Fourth’s hair, the subtle movement of his throat as he swallowed, the absolute, flawless realism of it. His search for a trick, for a flaw, found nothing. And as that realization hit, his composure broke. The wonder that replaced it was total, childlike, and utterly devastating.

Gemini watched them. His heart was pounding with fear, what if they say no. But when he saw their faces, the moment grief and love overrode logic, he felt clean triumph.

It was Phuwin who broke the silence, his voice ragged with want. “We want to see him too. With you. Please.”

Pond nodded, his words a tearful whisper.

“I don’t care if it’s not him him,” Mark murmured, his voice husky, his eyes still glued to the mirror. “I need this. I need to hear his voice.”

This was his final piece. To make them beg for entry.

Gemini turned to them, his face a mask of grave concern. He was playing the reluctant gatekeeper. “I… I don’t know if this is safe,” he said softly, his voice laced with warning. “ If we’re not careful, it could… it could all fall apart.”

He was going to make them beg for their own imprisonment. He had to make it their idea.

Pond stepped closer, hesitant, voice barely audible. “We’ve missed him too… so much. We can’t just … in this ...”

Phuwin swallowed hard, twisting his fingers together. “We want to see him to. With him. With you. Please… let us.”

Satang’s jaw tightened, eyes flicking between the shimmering mirror and Fourth. “We’re not stepping in to mess anything up,” he said slowly.

Gemini’s pulse hammered. He opened the notebook to the page with Fourth, showing it to them. “If we all… if we go slowly, carefully… you’ll see him. You’ll be able to… be here. But—” His voice cracked. “He doesn’t know. Not that he’s… different. Not that he’s not real in your world.”

“We’ll be careful,” Satang vowed, desperate. “We promise. Just… let us in, Gem.”

Gemini looked at their faces, etched with  a hope so painful it was almost cruel. He let the silence hang for one final, perfect moment. Then, with a slow, solemn nod, he turned back to the mirror.

“Okay,” he whispered. “Okay. Let’s go see him.”

He looked back at his friends, their faces pale, their eyes wide with a fear that was entirely eclipsed by yearning.

"Just... step through," Gemini murmured. "It feels like... walking through cold water. Don't be afraid."

Pond was the first. He moved as if in a dream, his hand outstretched. His fingertips breached the surface, and a ripple of gold and silver light cascaded out from the point of contact.

“Its… it’s moving,” Pond whispered. “It’s like it’s alive.”

A soft gasp escaped him as his hand disappeared into the reflection. He didn't hesitate again. He stepped forward, and the mirror swallowed him whole, his form dissolving into the light for a heartbeat before reappearing, solid and real, on the other side. He stood on the cobblestone street, blinking in the bright, foreign sun.

Phuwin followed, then Mark, each passing through the shimmering veil with a sharp intake of breath. Satang went last, his analytical mind likely reeling at the physical sensation, the sheer impossibility of it. But his desire to be where Fourth was overrode everything.

Then it was Gemini's turn. He took a final, steadying breath in his lonely bedroom and stepped through. The world twisted, a brief, disorienting lurch of cold, and then he was there. The air was warmer here, smelling of coffee and blooming flowers.

For a moment, the four of them simply stood on the sidewalk. They stared at Fourth, who was still sitting at the table, idly stirring his drink, a faint, content smile on his face.

Then, he looked up.

His eyes scanned over them—Pond, Phuwin, Mark, Satang, and finally Gemini. Then there was that brilliant, familiar grin that could have powered the sun itself.

"Finally! Took you long enough!" Fourth exclaimed, his voice the exact same pitch of warm, teasing joy they all remembered. He tossed his napkin on the table.  “I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

It was the final, perfect piece.

Fourth’s eyes flicked to each of them, warm and familiar. “Hey— you would never believe what happened today!”

Pond laughed shakily, tears springing to his eyes. “It’s… it’s really you,” he whispered, voice cracking.

The dam broke.

Pond let out a sound that was half-sob, half-laugh and practically lunged forward, wrapping Fourth in a bone-crushing hug. Phuwin was right behind him, his own eyes streaming as he clapped Fourth on the back, unable to form words. Mark just stood there for a second, a stunned, blissful smile spreading across his face before he too joined the fray. Satang hung back for only a second longer, his usual reserve melting away as he reached out and squeezed Fourth's shoulder, his touch firm, real, and full of a wonder he'd never thought he'd feel again.

Gemini took a step back, his hands slipping into his pockets. He watched.

His chest was tight with triumph. He had done it.

He had given them all the greatest gift imaginable. He had given them back their world. And in doing so, he had built his best defense.

They would never question this reality now. They would never risk it. They would become the fiercest guardians of this lie, because their own happiness was now irrevocably tied to its existence. They were also his accomplices, bound to this world by the very love he had exploited.

You see? he thought.

I saved all of us.

.

.

But Gemini still couldn’t be at peace. He wanted to make sure, be certain that his friends were as attached and bound to this world as he was.

Then the cracks had appeared again. Gemini saw it in the quiet moments, in the way Fourth’s smile would sometimes falter when he thought no one was looking, his gaze turning inward, toward a truth that was beginning to itch at the edges of his awareness. The same look that had always, inevitably, preceded the end.

Gemini’s previous victories felt hollow, fragile. Bringing the others in had created a circle of joy, but it was a circle that could still be broken by Fourth’s awareness. He needed a stronger chain.

He found his answer in Satang.

It came to him in fragments, half-seen moments that had once seemed not so special. Satang’s laugh, warm but fleeting, fading too quickly into silence while the others carried on. The way his gaze sometimes lingered on empty space, as if he were waiting for someone who never arrived.

Gemini began to notice it everywhere—the loneliness stitched into Satang’s posture, a quiet absence clinging to him like smoke. Even surrounded by friends, even in the middle of their easy chaos, he looked unfinished, as though some essential piece of him had been misplaced.

And once Gemini saw it, he couldn’t stop.

Here was a space that needed filling, a hollow he could mend with ink and paper. Satang didn’t just want someone—he needed someone. He had found his answer. Satang would never have to be alone again.

Gemini, had seen the quiet loneliness that clung to him, a space that not even their tight-knit group could entirely fill. Satang needed a partner, an other half. And Gemini would give him one.

He sat at his desk in the dead of night. The notebook lay open. He started with a feeling.

He wrote the warmth of a hand that fit perfectly in Satang’s. He described a laugh that could unravel the tightest knot of anxiety in Satang’s shoulders. He crafted a sense of humor that was a perfect, gentle counterpoint to Satang’s serious nature—not to mock him, but to lighten him.

Then, he gave the feeling a name. Win.

Win was not a recreation of anyone. He was a pure creation. His kindness, his patience, his very soul was engineered in exact mirror to Satang’s every hidden need and unspoken want.

Win was born of this story, for Satang. His entire being is tethered to its reality. There is no memory of a before. There is no possibility of an after. He is a perfect, happy echo, and his existence is contingent on this world remaining exactly as it is.

Gemini was giving Satang a reason to fight for this reality with every fiber of his being. Win was Satang’s happiness, crystallized and made dependent on Fourth’s continued presence.

This isn't evil, he thought, looking at the words that had conjured a living, breathing person into a cage of narrative. I am giving everyone what they want.

Satang was lonely. Now he has a love he never dreamed possible. He will never be lonely again.

Fourth is loved, completely. He is surrounded by everyone who matters to him. He is happy.

I am not a monster. I am giving them a world without pain, without loss, without the random, cruel accidents that stole Fourth from us the first time.

Win was an utterly necessary chain. He had finally ensured that this time, Fourth would never have to say goodbye again.

Chapter Text

The air in Fourth’s mother’s house was always still, as if the very molecules had settled into a permanent state of mourning. Gemini was a silent partner to her in the life that was now defined by an absence.

He came by every Tuesday and Friday after his classes. He’d bring groceries, replacing the milk that had gone sour in the fridge, the bread that had hardened on the counter. He’d stay for tea, and they wouldn’t talk much. They’d just sit in the living room, the space between them filled with the ghost of the boy they both loved.

“You’re too good to me, Gem,” she’d say, her voice thin, worn out from a crying spell he’d just missed. Her eyes, once bright with a mischief that Fourth had inherited, were now perpetually red-rimmed and distant. “You should be out with your friends. Not stuck here with me.”

“They understand,” Gemini would reply, his voice soft, infused with a grief he didn’t have to fake. “We all… we all miss him. It helps me, being here.” It was the perfect thing to say. It was true, in its way. He was the grieving best friend, the one who felt the loss as deeply as she did. The role fits him perfectly.

One afternoon, he found her standing motionless by the mantelpiece, her hand resting on a framed photo of Fourth at fifteen, grinning with his arm around a younger, softer-looking Gemini. She hadn’t heard him come in. She was just… staring. The dust motes danced in the sliver of light cutting through the curtains, and she was as still as the photograph itself.

He watched her. While he had his secret, his reason to get out of bed with a terrifying sense of purpose, she had nothing. Her world had shrunk to the dimensions of this quiet house. Her life was a series of rituals, cleaning the room that would never be slept in again, tracing the edges of photographs with a trembling finger, watching the door as if, by some miracle, it might open and he’d walk through.

Her grief had fossilized around her, a beautiful, terrible amber preserving her in the exact moment of her greatest pain.

Then a thought crossed Gemini.

If Fourth ever… if he ever became aware again, if he ever felt the existential despair that had led to the… endings… her state would be a compelling argument for him. ‘Look what your absence does. Look how she suffers. She needs you.’ 

What was Gemini even thinking? Why is he trying to make her feel better? Her grief wasn't a problem at all. It was the ultimate opportunity for him.

He couldn’t bring her peace in this world. But he could in his.

Her inclusion would add the one person whose happiness was a direct, non-negotiable function of Fourth’s existence. A mother’s love. It was the most powerful force he knew.

If he could tie her joy, her very will to live, to Fourth’s presence in the narrative, then Fourth would be faced with an impossible choice. To erase himself would not be an act of selfless love. It would be an act of unimaginable cruelty. It would be personally responsible for plunging his own mother back into the abyss from which he’d supposedly saved her.

He would be her destroyer.

Fourth would never do it. He couldn’t.

Gemini watched her for a moment longer, the lonely figure in the silent house. A strange sense of calm settled over him. The path was clear.

He was just going to offer her a glimpse of her son. He was going to make her happiness his tether. And in doing so, he would forge the final, unbreakable chain.

The following Tuesday, he arrived with the groceries as usual, but he hummed a little as he put the milk away—a soft, absent-minded sound, just noticeable enough to be a deviation from the norm.

Fourth’s mother noticed. She always noticed everything about him now, because of her shared sorrow. “You seem… a little brighter today, Gem,” she remarked, her voice cautious, as if afraid to scare away a rare bird.

Gemini offered a small, weary but genuine-looking smile.  “I’m trying,” he said, his voice softer, less ragged than the week before. “It’s… a process. But I think I’m finally finding a way to cope.”

He let the phrase hang between them, a tantalizing, unqualified notion. A way to cope. He didn’t elaborate.

A week later, he arrived with a small, leather-bound journal tucked under his arm. He placed it on the kitchen table with a quiet thud.

“What’s that?” she asked, her eyes lingering on the notebook.

“Oh, this?” Gemini picked it up, running his fingers over the cover with a feigned self-consciousness. “I’ve started writing again. Just… thoughts. Memories. It’s… therapeutic, I guess. Helps to get it out of my head and onto paper.”

Therapeutic. 

A doctor would approve. A grief counselor would recommend it. It was safe, sane, and utterly mundane.

He continued this careful campaign for a few weeks. He spoke a little more about his days. He mentioned a movie he’d seen with Pond. He was carefully, meticulously constructing the image of a man gingerly stepping back into the stream of life, with writing as his anchor.

Then, one rainy afternoon, the stage was perfectly set. They were seated in their usual spots, the steam from their coffee cups curling into the quiet. The air was thick with the familiar, comfortable sadness. Gemini held his mug with both hands, staring into the dark liquid as if searching for answers.

He let the silence stretch, then took a slow, shaky breath. He looked up at her, his eyes wide with a vulnerability that was both real and entirely manufactured for this moment.

“It’s strange,” he began, his voice a tentative, almost confessional whisper. “This writing… Sometimes, when I’m deep in it, when I’m writing about a specific moment… a specific laugh of his…”

He paused, as if startled by his own admission. He looked down, as if ashamed.

“What is it, Gem?” she prompted gently, leaning forward slightly.

He met her gaze again, his expression one of bewildered wonder. “It’s like… I can almost hear him again.” The words were hushed, full of a hope so fragile it seemed it might break at the slightest touch. “The sound is so clear. It feels so real. For a moment, the house isn’t quiet anymore. It’s the only thing that makes the quiet less… loud.”

He had to show it as a sad man’s comforting delusion. A trick of a grieving mind. A pathetic, harmless little ghost conjured by loneliness and prose.

He watched her face. The pity was there, as expected. The deep, aching sorrow for him, this boy clinging to phantom sounds. But then, something else flickered in her eyes, something far more valuable than pity.

It was a raw, hungry envy.

She looked at him as if he’d just told her he’d found a secret backdoor to heaven, a place only he could visit. She wished, more than anything, that she could access that same comfort. That she could quiet the devastatingly loud silence in her own house.

Her hand trembled slightly as she brought her coffee cup to her lips, her eyes never leaving his.

This was the reaction he had been counting on. The hook was set. Now, he just had to wait for her to tug on the line.

The carefully cultivated seeds of hope had taken root. Gemini could see it in the new, faintly desperate way Fourth’s mother looked at him during his visits.

The following Friday, he judged the time was right. He finished his tea, set the cup down with a soft click, and let a long, weighted silence fall between them.

He looked at her, his expression a masterful blend of trepidation and compassion. “There’s… there’s something I think I need to show you,” he began, his voice low, almost hesitant.

She stilled, her own cup halfway to her lips. “Show me what?”

“It’s… it’s going to sound crazy,” he warned, holding up a hand as if to ward off her disbelief before it even came. He let his gaze drop, playing with the edge of the tablecloth. “I shouldn’t have even mentioned it the other day. It’s just my mind playing tricks, but… it helps me. Maybe… maybe it will help you, too. Just for a little while.”

He made sure to package the invitation like a reluctant confession, a sharing of a private secret not as an exciting revelation. It made it precious enough for her to want it, bad.

Her breath caught. She simply nodded, her eyes wide, all her focus pinned on him.

Later that evening, he led her into his apartment. He’d dimmed the lights. The standing mirror waited in the corner, an ordinary object about to become a miracle. He positioned her before it, standing slightly behind her, a guide and a protector.

“Just… watch,” he whispered, his voice trembling with a feigned nervousness that felt utterly authentic.

He didn’t choose the vibrant café scene. That was for there friends, for joy. For Fourth’s mother, he chose something far more intimate, far more devastating. He pressed his fingers to the glass.

The mirror shimmered, its surface melting into the soft glow of a lamp in a cozy room. And there he was. Fourth. He was curled in an armchair, a book open in his lap. He he was reading, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. He absently reached for a glass of water on the side table, took a sip, and a soft, contented hum escaped his lips as he turned a page. It was a moment of pure, simple, peaceful existence. It was a moment she had witnessed a thousand times in her own home. A moment she thought she’d never see again.

A sharp, choked gasp tore from her throat. Her hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widening in utter, absolute disbelief. Tears, of sorrow and of seismic shock, instantly overflowed and streamed down her cheeks. She took an involuntary step forward, her body swaying towards the image as if pulled by a gravitational force. A broken whisper escaped her lips. “Fourth…?”

Gemini watched her, his own heart hammering with guilt. He moved closer, his voice a soft, soothing murmur beside her ear, laced with a shared, painful understanding.

The sound that tore from her, a raw, gut-wrenching sob. It was the sound of a dam, held for years, finally and catastrophically breaking. Fourth’s mother trembled before the mirror, her entire body shaking with the force of her silent, heaving cries. Tears streamed down her face, unimpeded, a river of pain finally finding its release. Her hands, pressed against her mouth, did little to muffle the choked, gasping breaths that sawed in and out of her lungs.

Look at her, he thought, his gaze clinical, almost detached. Look at the agony. This is what the real world has given her. This is her life without him. A constant, screaming absence.

He watched the way her shoulders curled inward, as if trying to protect a heart that had been shattered too many times. He saw the desperate, clawing need in her fingers as they reached, ever so slightly, toward the impossible image of her son.

I am not the villain here, his mind whispered. I am not hurting her. I am ending her suffering. Right here, right now, I am staunching a wound that has been bleeding for years.

The image in the mirror was perfect. Fourth, alive. Peaceful. Whole. It was the antidote to every tear she had ever shed, to every silent dinner eaten alone, to every morning she had to force herself out of a bed that felt too empty.

This isn't a theft, he rationalized, his own twisted love for Fourth weaving a narrative of pure, unassailable heroism.  I'm not taking her son away from her again, I am giving him back to her. Forever. No more funerals. No more empty chairs. No more what-ifs. Just this. For the rest of her life, she can have this.

“It’s not real,” he whispered, the words a gentle, heartbreaking caress. “I know it’s not. It’s just… a story I wrote.”

He let her absorb the sight for another second, let the impossible reality of her son’s living, breathing image sear itself into her soul.

“But for a little while,” he continued, his voice barely audible, offering the greatest temptation of all, “we can pretend. We can just… see him.”

He paused, letting the offer hang in the air, beautiful and terrible.

“Would you like that?” he asked, his tone so gentle it was almost a plea. “Just to see him?”

Chapter Text

Gemini noticed, it was a tiny thing. A flicker of confusion in Fourth’s eyes as a barista repeated the same three-note sigh exactly twice before taking his order. Fourth had blinked, shaken his head with a slight smile, and written it off. Gemini, watching from their usual table, felt his blood run cold.

He didn’t notice, Gemini told himself, clutching his coffee cup too tightly. It’s nothing. He’s just distracted.

But it wasn’t nothing. It was terrifying. Gemini, felt like an omnipotent author, who became a prisoner to his own protagonist’s awakening.

He’d see Fourth pause in front of the bathroom mirror, his head tilted, staring a second too long at his own reflection as if waiting for it to display text. Gemini’s heart would hammer against his ribs. Please look away. Just fix your hair and leave. It’s just a mirror.

He’d crafted every detail of their apartment for comfort and realism, but now he saw it through Fourth’s newly critical eyes. He noticed the way Fourth’s gaze would linger on the same wobbling chair leg, on the way the morning light through the window flickered for a single, impossible frame at exactly 7:14 AM. He saw Fourth’s fingers brush over the back of that chair, a faint crease of concentration on his brow.

Don’t, Gemini would plead silently from the kitchen, his own hands stilling over the breakfast he was preparing. Don’t question it. It’s just a chair. The floor is uneven. The light is just the light.

He became a master of misdirection. A gentle touch on the arm, a sudden question, a dropped towel—anything to break Fourth’s concentration when his gaze grew too thoughtful, too analytical.

At night, lying beside a sleeping Fourth, Gemini would pray. It was a desperate, silent litany to nothing and everything.

Please, let him be okay. Let him just be happy. Don’t let him see. Don’t let him figure it out.

He’s curious. That’s all. It doesn’t mean he’s becoming aware of EVERYTHING. It just means he’s smart. I made him smart. My Fourth was always smart.

What if he realizes? What will he do? Will he leave me again? Will he reject the world again? Will he delete himself again?

The last thought was a spike of pure terror that left him breathless. He’d curl closer to Fourth, listening to the steady, rhythmic breath of the boy he’d brought back to life, and his prayers would become more frantic.

Gemini hated him for it.

He hated the way Fourth’s laugh still lit the room even after everything. He hated the softness in his eyes, the gentleness in his touch, the way he could make surrender look holy. He hated that Fourth kept choosing absence over him. That every time he found out the truth, he left.

And yet—he loved him.

He loved Fourth so completely that when the boy chose to vanish, the love curdled into venom. He hated him so much that he couldn’t stop clutching him close, couldn’t stop rewriting reality just to hold him again. He hated him because Fourth had the power to hurt him, to hollow him, to reduce him to a machine that ran on ink and obsession.

Fourth’s face haunted every page, every scrawl, every desperate command. His voice lingered in the silence. Gemini couldn’t tell if his hands shook from grief, from rage, or from desire. They had fused into the same thing.

“I hate you,” Gemini whispered once, pressing his forehead against Fourth’s shoulder, arms locking around him as though to anchor him to earth. His voice broke into a sob that sounded almost like laughter. “I hate you so much I’d die without you.”

He’d kiss Fourth’s temple, a tear tracing its own path down his cheek.

I’ll be better. I’ll be more careful. I’ll fix the glitches. Just please, don’t take this from him. Don’t take him from me. Let him stay in this beautiful, ignorant peace. He can’t handle the truth. I can’t handle him knowing.

Just be my Fourth. My happy, oblivious, beautiful Fourth. Don’t look behind the curtain. The view is so much better from out here, I promise.

Every day was a tightrope walk. Every curious glance from Fourth was a potential fall. And Gemini, could do nothing but watch, and hope, and pray that his greatest creation would never discover the hand that held the pen.

.

.

.

The laundry was a familiar, comforting rhythm. The thump of the machine, the scent of detergent, the warm steam from the bathroom—it was all so normal. And normal was a shield Gemini clung to, a daily prayer against the chaos simmering just beneath the surface of the world he’d built.

"You’ve been putting this off for weeks." He kept his voice light, teasing.

As he hauled the damp, heavy towels to the terrace, his mind was a careful, partitioned thing. One part was here with Fourth, enjoying the simple domesticity. The other part, was constantly monitoring the code of this reality, smoothing over the tiny seams, ensuring the simulation held. He’d gotten good at it. It was like breathing—a constant, subconscious effort to keep the everything from cracking.

Then they stepped onto the terrace.

His eyes, trained by months of hyper-vigilance, automatically scanned the environment. It was a habit, a quality check. Sunlight: golden. Good. Breeze: gentle. Good. Floating table: still hovering in the far corner. Stable. Good.

Shit.

He had forgotten about it. Goddamnit.

He’d looked directly at it. For a fraction of a second, his guard had slipped, and his gaze had flickered to the impossible piece of furniture—his own personal "oops," a permanent glitch he’d never been able to fully erase from this pocket of the world.

He forced his eyes away, his heart giving a single, hard thump against his ribs. He didn’t see. Just keep moving.

He focused on the laundry, the pinning of the sheets, the mundane task. But he could feel Fourth’s eyes on him. Not just looking at him, but watching him. Studying him. Gemini’s skin prickled. This was new.

Every time his attention drifted back to the table—he couldn’t fully resist looking at his own oops—he could feel Fourth’s gaze follow. A cold dread began to pool in his stomach.

Play it cool. You’re just Gemini. You see nothing.

When Fourth suggested a breather, Gemini’s internal alarms screamed. This was a test. He shrugged, trying for nonchalance, and let his eyes do another casual sweep of the terrace. He couldn’t help it. He had to check if the table was still there, if it was stable, if his world was still holding together.

It was. And Fourth had seen him look.

The walk across the terrace was agony. Every cell in Gemini’s body was screaming to look at Fourth, to explain, to come clean. But he kept his eyes forward, his expression neutral, even as he tracked Fourth’s movement near the table’s edge from his periphery. His heart was a frantic drum against his ribs. He knows. Oh god, he knows.

Then Fourth crouched. "Careful here… don’t bump into… whatever this is."

The line was delivered with a casualness that was utterly terrifying. Gemini’s carefully constructed mask almost shattered. A hysterical, panicked laugh bubbled in his throat. ‘Whatever this is.’ He bit it back, forcing out a smirk, a non-committal "Yeah…" that sounded strained to his own ears. It was a private joke, all right. The most devastating joke ever told.

Fourth’s head snapped up. The look on his face—triumphant, ecstatic, unhinged with relief—was like a physical blow.

"You can see it."

The accusation, or rather, the joyful declaration, hung in the air. Gemini’s mind went blank. All his protocols, his rules, his sacred vow to never let him know again—they evaporated under the sheer, blinding force of Fourth’s hope.

He tried. God, he tried to retreat, to gaslight, to pull the veil back down. "See what? The air? I was just—"

"BULLSHIT!"

Fourth’s voice was raw, shaking with a joy so profound it left Gemini breathless. He saw it then, not just excitement, but the crushing weight of weeks of solitary madness finally lifting from Fourth’s shoulders. “I’m not insane!”

The words shattered the last of Gemini’s resolve. He’d done that. He’d let his Fourth think he was alone, losing his mind, all to preserve the fragile lie. The guilt was a tidal wave, and it washed away his fear, leaving only a desperate, aching need to finally, finally tell the truth.

He froze, the denial dying on his lips. He saw the wild grin on Fourth’s face, the tears of relief threatening to spill from his own eyes. He sighed, the sound carrying the weight of a thousand unsaid secrets. He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of surrender.

"Yeah," he admitted, and the word was so quiet, so fragile. "I can see them. All of it."

The confession felt like stepping off a cliff. The world didn’t end. The sky didn’t fall. Fourth didn’t try to erase himself. Fourth just… lit up. The explosion of joy that followed—the hug, the shaking, the ecstatic laughter that echoed over the rooftops—was the most beautiful, terrifying thing Gemini had ever witnessed.

He was dragged to the table, Fourth vibrating with the need to share his entire world. Gemini played along, letting the familiar awe wash over him. "…That’s a table." He said it deadpan, clinging to the last shred of his character, even as his heart swelled with a painful, possessive love. My table. My mistake. Our sanctuary now.

He sat on the surface, feeling its familiar, warm hum—the hum of his own power, his own grief-made-manifest—and listened as Fourth word-vomited everything he’d discovered. The mirrors. The predictive text. The manuscript pages. Each revelation was a knife twist. Fourth had seen it all. He’d been cataloging the cracks in his own reality just like every time before.

Fourth was so proud, so brilliantly alive in his discovery. And he thought he was the insane one.

Gemini watched him, this beautiful, chaotic, self-aware miracle he had made, and he knew he couldn’t let him think he was alone for one second longer. The risk was immense. The rules screamed in his head. Do not break the illusion or he will erase himself again. Do not acknowledge the hand behind the curtain.

But looking at Fourth’s shining, relieved face, the rules meant nothing.

He didn’t have to reveal the whole truth. He just had to play along with Fourth, he just had to be a self-aware character just like Fourth.

He took a breath, the words feeling both like a confession and a vow. "You know… I’ve been aware for a long time. As long as I can remember."

The shock on Fourth’s face was worth every ounce of fear. The relief that followed was everything. We are in this together.

He laid out the rules, the careful dance of existence he’d mastered. It was a warning and a plea wrapped in one. Please, now that you know, be careful. Don’t break our world. I can’t lose you again.

And then came the question he’d been dreading and longing for. "Why me?"

The truth was too vast, too devastating to tell. Because you died. Because I couldn’t live without you. Because I carved this world out of my own grief just to hear your laugh again. He couldn’t say that.

So he lied. A little white lie.

"Because you care. Truly care… I fell in love with the you I saw beneath it all."

It wasn’t a lie. It was the most honest thing he’d ever said. He had fallen in love with this version of Fourth, this vibrant, curious, kind-hearted soul who had, against all odds, become real.

When Fourth said "I love you too," the words didn’t feel scripted, Gemini never scripted that. They felt like a miracle. They felt like a universe aligning.

As he leaned in, tangling his fingers in Fourth’s hair and pulling him into a kiss, every anxious thought vanished. There was only this, the press of lips, the shared breath, the solid weight of Fourth in his arms. It was a kiss charged with months of hidden truths and a terrifying, exhilarating hope for a future he’d never dared to plan for.

In that moment, Gemini felt like he wasn’t just in his fake world, hiding in the shadows scare of it breaking down. He was just Gemini, kissing the boy he loved, and for a perfect, stolen moment, that was the only truth that mattered.

.

.

.

But good things don’t last long.

The fear was a cold knot in Gemini’s gut, of Fourth destabilizing the world so completely that it would crash. Fourth was always so curious, he loved that part of Fourth. But that is what lead to him losing Fourth over and over again.

The more he tried to hide things from Fourth, the more curious Fourth got, the more he warned not to mess with the story, he could see Fourth was itching to test the boundaries. Gemini forgot how many times he lived through this, and how many times he had failed.

He could feel the strain— it was unsustainable.

So, he made a decision. If he couldn’t suppress the curiosity, he would curate it.

He leaned forward, his tone shifting from character-Gemini to something older, closer to the truth. A warning from the system itself. “You know… I meant what I said before. Don’t mess with the author too much.”

He let the threat hang in the air. “They’re not always gentle. You start poking holes in the story, they’ll find ways to patch them—ways you won’t like.”

He saw the shiver that ran through Fourth at the concept of being rewritten. Good.

But Fourth, his magnificent, unpredictable Fourth, just smirked. “Well, I’m already perfect, so good luck to them.”

The arrogance he’d written himself, a trait of the original Fourth he’d loved too much to leave out. It was going to be the death of him. He groaned, tossing a cushion at him. “And that’s exactly what worries me.”

He had to come up with a new plan. He would give Fourth a guided tour of the sandbox environment. Show him the wonders he was allowed to play with, and in doing so, subtly define the boundaries of the playground.

“Get dressed.”

“Uh… I am dressed.”

“Better. You’re coming with me.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere… the author didn’t mean to exist.”

It was the ultimate lure. The promise of Easter eggs, of developer commentary, of going off-map. He felt like he was initiating a secret side-quest to keep the player from breaking the main game.

He led Fourth to the clocktower—a location he’d flagged as ‘incomplete’ during the initial world-building, a pendulum whose animation cycle he’d never finished. He’d left it as a frozen monument to his own grief, a moment suspended in time. Now, he repurposed it as an exhibit.

“It’s been like that since I found it,” he said, the lie effortless. He hadn’t found it; he’d left it. “No one else can see it stop.” Of course they couldn’t. He’d written their perception filters that way.

The cherry tree was his pièce de résistance. It wasn’t a mistake, it was a pocket dimension running on a separate loop. He’d built it one night, pouring his longing into the code, creating a place where spring—their spring—would never end. Tying the blindfold was his method to heighten the reveal, to maximize the emotional payoff.

The look on Fourth’s face was the entire point Gemini was alive. The awe. The soft laugh. “It’s like… the author copy-pasted a season from somewhere else and forgot to color-correct.”

“Exactly,” Gemini said, his smile one of pure satisfaction. He was happy to accept praise for his artistry.

And then Fourth said. “Feels like I could just… stay here forever.”

Then Gemini’s heart leaped, he hadn’t really properly written these places, and no matter how had he tried to fix them he couldn’t. So if Fourth spent more time in his glitches Fourth was bound to find more cracks. 

“You could. But you’d fade… You’d stop getting written into the rest of the world. The author forgets you’re there.” Gemini lied with a straight face that he almost fooled himself.

In a way it was the truth. If a character stayed in an unused asset, the central narrative would eventually dump the cached memory to save resources.

 Gemini had no control over the glitches.

Stay in the story pleaseee. Stay where I can see you.

The neon platform was another curated experience, a dynamic environment that responded to user emotion. Gemini definitely didn’t write it, but it was too pretty to correct.

And when Fourth, his eyes full of a trust that was both genuine and painfully misguided, laced their fingers together and said, “Lead the way… But we hold hands the whole time,” Gemini felt his heart race.

He had done it. He had successfully patched it for now.

As Fourth kissed him in the apartment, Gemini poured his relief, his guilt, and his terrifying, possessive love into the kiss.

I hate you. I hate you. I love you.

Please, he begged the universe he himself had built, let this be enough for him.  Let him never need to ask who holds the pen.