Yu's gaze stayed glued to the window, every nerve in his hand screaming at the interlaced grip Theo had trapped him in. He didn't dare yank too hard, not with Joy in the backseat watching with wide, glittering eyes like she'd just been given front-row seats to a K-drama.
So, quietly, he tried other tactics.
With his free hand, he flicked at Theo's knuckles. Nothing. Theo's grip only tightened.
He tried again, this time pinching lightly at the side of Theo's hand—enough to sting, but not enough to truly hurt. Still nothing. If anything, Theo's smirk deepened, his thumb brushing lazy circles against the back of Yu's hand as though savoring his fidgeting.
Yu grit his teeth, his ears pinking with embarrassment. He didn't want this—especially not with Joy's sparkling gaze boring into him.
Finally, mercifully, Theo unlocked their fingers. Yu exhaled a breath of relief.
It lasted two seconds.
Because Theo's hand slid down, deliberate and slow, until it rested firmly on Yu's thigh.
Yu froze, his entire body stiffening. The warmth of Theo's palm burned through the thin fabric of his pants. His thighs quaked together instinctively before he forced them apart again, afraid Joy would notice.
Inside, though, he panicked.
'Why here? Why now? Why in front of Joy?'
The rest of the ride felt endless. Joy hummed happily in the back, her eyes flicking between them with all the excitement of a fangirl shipping her favorite drama couple. Yu, meanwhile, felt suffocated under Theo's hand, silently praying the car would hurry and stop.
At last, the car slowed and pulled to the curb. Yu nearly leapt out the moment the locks clicked.
Joy giggled, leaning out the window from the backseat.
"Wait, Yuvin! You forgot this!"
She pressed his sketchbook into his arms, her grin sparkling like mischief itself.
"Don't forget to show me your next designs, okay?"
Yu muttered a hasty.
"Thanks."
His flush refusing to fade, and turned to bolt for the front door.
But before he could unlock the door or even wave goodbye properly—
The door burst open.
"Yuuu! I'm starving!"
Callen barreled out like a golden retriever set loose, his faux-cry dramatic and loud. He dashed straight toward Yu, arms spread wide, eyes gleaming like he'd been waiting for this moment all day.
Yu froze mid-step, stunned.
Behind him, Joy's jaw dropped. Then, like the K-drama fanatic she was, her eyes lit up even brighter.
A rival.
Her brother might have competition. And to Joy, that only made things better—because in her heart, she was determined:
Yu was going to become her brother no matter what.
Callen didn't slow down. He swept Yu straight into his arms, spinning him toward the house as though Yu were some prize he'd just won in a game.
"C'mon, chef! My stomach's been crying without you!"
Yu sputtered, sketchbook clutched to his chest, caught entirely off guard.
"C-Callen! Put me down!"
His protests were swallowed by Callen's laughter as the blond dragged him inside, the door shutting behind them with a loud thud.
The sudden quiet that followed hit like a slap.
Joy remained in her seat, her eyes sparkling with mischief and excitement. She looked positively delighted—as if she'd just witnessed a major plot twist in her favorite drama.
Theo, by contrast, was frozen. His jaw locked tight, eyes narrowed on the door where Yu had just disappeared. His chest rose and fell in sharp, controlled breaths, every muscle tense like he was holding himself back from storming inside after them.
The air between brother and sister was thick, vibrating with two opposite energies.
Joy's giddy thrill and Theo's boiling frustration.
Inside, something ugly coiled tight in Theo's gut. He replayed the image again and again:
Yu's small frame swallowed in another man's arms. Yu's laugh, forced and startled, but bright. Brighter than anything Theo had managed to pull from him tonight.
And that man—Callen.
Tall. Golden-haired. Bold enough to burst out and claim Yu right in front of him.
Theo's hands curled into fists at his sides. His nails bit into his palms, and he forced himself to breathe, to hold himself together.
'He touched him. He carried him away. In front of me.'
The thought thundered, each word like a hammer blow to his chest.
Jealousy burned, raw and unfiltered. It tasted bitter, sharper than the whiskey still lingering on his tongue. His heart twisted with an ache he didn't want to name, but one he couldn't deny.
Beside him, Joy clapped her hands together with a dreamy sigh.
"Ohhh, it's just like a love triangle! Yuvin's life is so exciting."
She looked positively gleeful.
Theo didn't even glance at her. His eyes stayed locked on that closed door, as though he could sear holes through it and into the room where Yu now was.
Joy finally tore her gaze from the closed door and looked at her brother. The sparkles in her eyes sharpened into something sly.
"You look so jealous, Theo."
Theo's jaw ticked.
"I'm not jealous."
"Yes, you are!"
Joy clasped her hands under her chin like she was narrating a romance.
"The way you glared when tall, blond and handsome swept Yuvin inside? That was classic jealous boyfriend energy."
Theo exhaled through his nose, sharp and heavy, and turned his head away.
"Get your seatbeat on."
Joy did, but not without a cheeky grin plastered on her face.
Silence ruled the car for several minutes. Theo drove with stiff, clipped movements, his knuckles white around the wheel. Joy, however, tapped her chin, thoughts buzzing like fireflies.
"You know, I think I've definitely seen that blond before."
She murmured.
Theo kept his eyes on the road.
"He's Yuvin's roommate. Could that be it?"
Joy shook her head, her brow furrowed.
"No… it was somewhere else. I know I've seen him…"
Theo's grip tightened further.
"You don't go anywhere without me, Joy. So where could you have seen him?"
And then it hit her—like lightning. Her eyes widened. The magazine cover.
Callen Wright. The nation's most eligible playboy millionaire.
But she stopped herself from blurting it out. Her lips pressed tight as the memory sharpened:
Callen's careless grin, the glossy headline, the string of scandals attached to his name.
Her heart twisted.
'No. Absolutely not. I won't allow it.'
'If Yu fell into that beast's hands, he'd be eaten alive.'
'No—the only man good enough for Yu… is my brother.'
Joy turned her face to the window, her vow silently taking root.
---
Meanwhile, in the warmth of the house, Yu set down his sketchbook and bag with a sigh. His head still swirled with the chaos of Theo's study, Joy's fussing, and now Callen's dramatic scene at the door.
Pushing it aside, he rolled up his sleeves and went straight into the kitchen. Dinner first. Normalcy first. He plated and prepped carefully, even keeping a separate dish warm for Adrian when he came back from his internship.
Callen leaned against the table, his posture lazy but his eyes sharp as they tracked Yu's every movement.
The sway of Yu's hips as he crossed from pot to counter. The length of his legs shifting under loose fabric. The curve of his waist, faint but undeniable even beneath a baggy shirt. His longer brown hair, bouncing with each step, brushing over his shoulders.
Callen's throat worked as he licked his lips.
Baggy clothes or not, nothing could hide the allure of Yu's body.
And now that body was tainted… touched by another man.
Callen's eyes darkened. His hunger spiked.
He wanted to taste it for himself.
The quiet clink of utensils, the simmer of a pot, the faint scrape of Yu's knife against the cutting board—domestic sounds filled the kitchen.
But behind him, Callen's gaze was heavy.
Too heavy.
Yu could feel it on his skin, each glance like a hand tugging at his clothes. He tried to focus on stirring the pot, tried to ignore the way his body betrayed him with little quivers every time he bent down or leaned across the counter.
Then Callen moved.
One casual step closer. His arm brushed the table as he rounded it, his voice dropping low and husky.
"You always cook like this, Yuvin? So… attentive? It's driving me crazy."
Yu stiffened, caught mid-stir. His cheeks burned.
Before he could retort, DK01's voice sliced through his mind like a cold blade.
[Warning! Emotional attachment from the side character, Callen Wright, is spiking way up. Any further intense escalation risks seriously destabilizing the mission's balance.]
Yu bit his lip.
'Damn it.'
He couldn't let Callen corner him like Theo. Not here. Not now.
Quickly, he blurted out the first thing that came to mind.
"Do you know how to speak French?"
The words fell into the air like a stone in a pond, awkward ripples scattering the heat for a moment.
Callen blinked, taken aback.
"…French?"
Yu nodded, still facing the pot, keeping his voice breezy.
"Yeah. French."
A pause. Then Callen chuckled, straightening with a cocky grin.
"Of course I do. I'm a Wright, you know. Prestigious upbringing and all that. I know plenty of languages."
He leaned a little closer, his smirk widening. Tilting his head, eyes narrowing with mischievous delight.
"But why do you want to learn French, hm?"
Yu's fingers tightened on the spoon. Callen folded his arms, leaning heavier onto the table so his gaze dragged openly over Yu.
"They say it's the language of love. What, planning to sweep some poor Parisian off their feet?"
Yu stiffened, almost dropping the spoon.
Callen's grin grew sharper.
"Or maybe you're already practicing for someone closer. Someone you want to whisper je t'aime to, nice and soft, right in their ear."
Yu flushed, his jaw tightening as DK01 hummed a dry warning in the back of his mind.
[Callen's interest in you is spiking further. Recommend de-escalation by deflecting.]
Yu forced himself to keep stirring, feigning calm even as heat prickled at his neck.
"You've got too much imagination for your own good."
Callen chuckled low.
"So you admit it. There is someone."
Yu exhaled, shoulders sagging as he set the spoon down. He realized he couldn't keep dodging forever—not when the truth would come out in less than two months anyway.
"Fine."
He muttered, not meeting Callen's sharp gaze.
"I signed up for a study-abroad program in Paris next semester. Fashion capital of the world. If I want to get anywhere in design, it's the best place to go."
Callen blinked, his smirk faltering for a rare second.
"…Paris? For how long?"
Yu shrugged, picking up a towel to dry his hands.
"Long enough. Couple months, maybe more. Just figured I'd get it out of the way before… other things."
His hand brushed his abdomen without thinking before he quickly pulled it back, forcing a casual smile.
"Point is, I'll need French. Might as well start early."
Callen stared at him, unblinking, the wheels in his head clearly turning. His smirk didn't return this time—it shifted into something darker.
'Paris.'
The word echoed like a stone dropped into deep water.
Callen's grin had slipped, but his heart pounded hot in his chest. Yuvin—his Yuvin—was planning to disappear across the ocean in less than two months? Surrounded by strangers, by French men with sharp suits and sweet words?
The thought made Callen's jaw clench.
He'd never admit it aloud, not yet, but the idea of Yu leaving filled him with a gnawing, ugly need. Possessiveness coiled sharp and fast in his gut.
If Yu thought he could slip away so easily, Callen would just have to make sure he left something behind—something he couldn't ignore.
Yu turned his back to check the pot, humming softly to distract himself from the tension. The kitchen light glowed golden over his loose shirt and swaying hair.
That was all the invitation Callen needed.
In two steps, he was behind him. His arms slid around Yu's waist, pulling him in flush.
Yu froze, but only for a second. The embrace was too familiar—Taichi had held him like this countless times. And before Yu could stop himself, his body relaxed, melting into the contact instinctively.
Callen's lips brushed the shell of his ear. Hot breath ghosted over Yu's skin as he whispered, low and rough.
"Je t'adore, mon amour."
Yu shivered, confusion flickering in his hazel eyes.
"W-what…?"
Callen chuckled, pressing closer.
"I can teach you French, Yuvin. But it'll cost you."
His hands shifted lower. From his waist… to his hips… one hand slipping boldly down to grip the curve of Yu's bottom. He gave it a firm squeeze.
Yu gasped, sharp and helpless, his whole body trembling.
Callen smirked at the sound, then pulled away just as quickly, sauntering off as though nothing had happened.
"That much payment's good enough for today."
He dropped onto the couch that faced away from the kitchen—head resting on the sock armrest—pulling out his phone and scrolling lazily, his smirk hidden behind the screen.
Yu stood frozen in the kitchen, cheeks flaming red, heart hammering against his ribs. He forced himself to return to the simmering pot, muttering under his breath.
"This is just how Callen is. Just how he is. He just likes the original, not me."
His hands shook as he cooked the food, trying desperately to shove down the heat bubbling in his chest and the ghost of that grip lingering on his body.
On the couch, Callen wasn't nearly as casual as he pretended.
His blood was on fire. His arousal throbbed, insistent and sharp, pressing against the fabric of his sweats. He kept his phone angled, his grin hidden, as his free hand slipped down into the waistband as casually as he could.
Quiet. He had to be quiet. But the living room proved to be too quiet.
The clink of Yu's spatula against the pan, the soft pad of his bare feet on tile, every sound felt like it was screaming straight into Callen's ears.
Callen sank deeper into the couch, legs sprawled wide under the thin throw blanket he tossed over himself, phone propped lazily in one hand like he was just another bored asshole doom-scrolling memes. Yu was ten feet away at the kitchen counter, humming under his breath, back turned, cooking dinner like he didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing to him.
Callen's cock was already rock-hard, trapped sideways in the loose sweats, leaking a wet spot he prayed the blanket hid. His pulse hammered in his ears. One casual glance over Yu's shoulder and he'd be fucked. Completely fucked.
'Don't turn around. Please, fuck, don't turn around yet.'
But he couldn't stop.
His hand slid further down under the waistband, slow, silent, fingers curling around his shaft like they had a mind of their own. Under that blanket his sweats were shoved down just enough, cock out, flushed and leaking, wrapped in a merciless fist.
Yu was humming again, reaching up for spices in the cabinet. The motion made his shirt ride higher, exposing the dimples at the small of his back, the faint red imprints Callen's own fingers had left minutes ago when he'd got his "payment" from Yu.
Callen's breath came in shallow, shaking pulls.
'Jesus, look what you do to me. I'm right here, Yu. Ten feet away and I'm already dripping because I can still feel your ass in my hands. So fucking soft. You pushed back into me, you little tease. You felt how hard I was. God, that little gasp you made earlier.'
Callen thought, biting the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted copper.
'When I grabbed your ass like it was mine. You froze for half a second, then pushed back into my hand like a needy little slut. You felt how hard I was, didn't you? Pressed right up against you while you pretend to be some housewife cooking.'
His fist moved in tiny, frantic jerks, barely any stroke at all, just enough friction to keep him teetering on the edge. The blanket shifted with every twitch of his hips. One wrong move and it would slip.
Yu bent slightly to grab another pan in the lower cabinet, shirt riding up, exposing a strip of pale skin above the waistband of his baggy pants. Callen's grip tightened, stroking once, twice, slow and torturous.
'Fuck, look at you. That perfect ass swaying while you hum like you're innocent. I had my hands on it minutes ago, fingers digging in, feeling it jiggle when you jumped. Bet you're still feel me there. Bet if I walked over right now and shoved those pants down you'd already be wet for me. Please don't look. Please don't look. I'm begging you, don't look.'
Yu turned halfway, profile glowing under the kitchen light, hair falling into his eyes as he tasted the sauce off the spoon. Callen froze, fist locked tight around the base of his cock, heart slamming so hard he was sure Yu could hear it.
'If you turn around right now you'll see it. You'll see me stroking myself raw to the memory of grabbing that perfect ass. You'll know I'm a filthy fucking animal who can't even wait until you're out of the room.'
Yu smiled at whatever he tasted, oblivious, and turned back to the stove.
Callen nearly sobbed with relief.
'Thank fuck. Thank fuck. Just a little longer—'
He started moving again, faster, wrist twisting on every upstroke, thumb smearing pre-cum over the head and down the shaft until it was sloppy and loud under the blanket. He bit down on his lower lip hard enough to bruise.
He kept swiping his thumb over the head, making the slide filthy and slick. He did his best to kept his face neutral, eyes half-lidded on the phone screen he wasn't even seeing.
'You have no idea I'm jerking off to you right now, do you? Ten feet away, cock out under this blanket, choking the life out of it because I can still feel your ass in my palms. So soft. So fucking plump. I wanted to spread you open right there in the kitchen, shove my tongue in you while you tried to keep cooking dinner like a good boy.'
Yu turned slightly, profile lit by the warm overhead light, hair falling into his eyes again. Callen's breath stuttered. His fist moved faster, short, desperate pumps, hips barely rocking under the blanket.
'Come on, come on—turn around. Look at me. See what you do to me. Watch me come thinking about bending you over that counter and fucking you stupid while the food gets cold. Come on, come on, I need it, I need to come with you right there, so close I can smell you. Lilies and herbs and that sweet skin I want to bite until you scream—'
His balls drew up tight. His toes curled against the couch cushion.
'Don't moan. Don't you dare moan.'
Callen's orgasm crashed into him mid-turn.
He choked on a gasp, hips jerking violently under the blanket as he shot, thick, endless ropes spilling over his fist, soaking the inside of the throw, dripping down his shaft and balls in hot pulses. His vision tunneled, teeth sunk into his own knuckles to keep the wrecked sound locked in his throat.
Another wave of orgasm hit him like a punch behind the eyes. Callen's jaw clenched, a silent snarl trapped in his throat as he shot again into his own fist, thick pulses soaking his palm, dripping down his balls. His vision whited out for a second, thighs trembling under the blanket.
He swallowed the groan that wanted to rip out of him, forced his face into something lazy and bored.
'Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm coming, I'm coming while you're looking right at me—'
Yu's eyes flicked to him, head tilting.
"You okay? You look flushed."
Callen forced a lazy grin, voice rough as gravel.
"Yeah. Just starving."
He could feel his own cum cooling on his skin, pooling under his ass, the blanket sticking to him in incriminating patches. One shift and Yu would see everything.
Yu just shrugged and walked over to the stove and began cleaning up.
Callen sat there, cock still twitching with aftershocks, heart hammering like a war drum, praying the scent of sex didn't reach Yu's nose before he could clean up.
'So fucking close…'
He thought, dazed and wrecked.
'Next time I might not stop even if you do look.'
By the time Yu turned around with two steaming plates, smile soft and oblivious, Callen had already grabbed tissues from the side table with his clean hand, wiping himself down under the blanket like it was nothing.
"Dinner's ready, lazy."
Yu teased, padding over.
Callen smirked, tossing the balled-up tissues into the trash behind the couch without even looking, cock finally softening against his thigh.
"Took you long enough."
He drawled, stretching like he hadn't just come his brains out to the memory of groping Yu's perfect ass.
Like nothing had happened at all.
---
As Yu set the plates onto the counter, his eyes flicked to the couch again.
Callen sat sprawled there, legs stretched out, scrolling idly through an app feed. The screen glowed with crisp photos, likes, and comments—it looked exactly like Instagram.
Yu's chest tightened with a pang of nostalgia.
'So this world has it too?'
He remembered the curated snapshots of his old life as Yukio—filters, poses, comments flooding in, the dopamine rush of followers. He had missed it more than he realized. Maybe, just maybe, starting an account here would give him a piece of that warmth again. Something to tether him in this world beyond missions and seduction.
The thought lingered, sweet and tempting, even as he tried to shove it away.
The front door clicked open.
"Welcome back."
Yu said instantly, the rhythm ingrained in his bones. He crossed the room without thinking, already reaching for Adrian's briefcase and coat. He hung them neatly where they belonged before stepping close, tugging lightly at the knot of Adrian's tie until it loosened.
"Wash up."
Yu instructed softly, his voice smooth and practiced.
"Dinner's just finished, so your timing is perfect. I'll set your plate."
Adrian froze, caught between surprise and something heavier. His lips parted, but no words came.
Yu didn't notice, he simply turned and headed back to the kitchen, moving with quiet efficiency as he reached for the last plated meal.
That left Adrian and Callen, one still at the doorway and the other in the open area living room, the tension heavy and unacknowledged.
Adrian's eyes narrowed, sharp and questioning, fixed on Callen sprawled on the couch.
Callen smirked, rolling both shoulders with a shrug, his phone dropping to his side.
"What?"
—The gesture seemed to say.
Adrian didn't answer, didn't move—his stare lingered another beat longer before he brushed past, heading toward the washroom then the dining table with cool precision.
Callen chuckled under his breath, finally dragging himself upright and following suit, flopping into his seat with careless ease.
Yu moved like clockwork in the kitchen, setting bowls, spoons, and steaming plates in their places. He slipped into the seat last, his hair slipping forward over his shoulder as he smoothed his baggy shirt.
Adrian watched him. Watched the practiced ease with which Yu ladled soup, how naturally he leaned over to set napkins in place, how softly he chided Callen when the blond reached too soon for his food.
'It's… domestic.'
Adrian realized, a strange ache pressing into his chest.
'The way he loosened my tie. The way he set my plate. Like… like a wife waiting at home.'
He forced his eyes back to his soup, jaw tight.
"God, this is good!"
Callen groaned, wolfing down his portion with zero restraint. Before long, his plate was half-empty.
Yu reached for the serving spoon with a sigh and plated him another round.
"Slow down, Callen. You'll make yourself sick—or fat."
Callen pouted, puffing his cheeks.
"I won't get fat. But… if you stayed around longer, maybe I would."
Yu chuckled, shaking his head, while Adrian's fork paused midway to his mouth.
"Stayed… longer?"
Adrian asked carefully. His dark eyes flicked from Callen to Yu.
Callen froze. Then gasped dramatically, his grin splitting wide.
"No way! He didn't tell you?"
Yu sighed, rubbing his temple.
Callen leaned back in his chair, laughing with glee.
"Ha! I know something Adrian doesn't. This is amazing. I could die happy."
He thumped his chest and looked smug as a child who'd just found a secret stash of candy.
Yu pinched his cheek sharply, tugging until Callen yelped.
"Don't be childish."
Callen rubbed his cheek, still grinning ear to ear.
Yu turned toward Adrian, his expression softer.
"I signed up to study abroad. Paris. This coming term."
The words hit like a stone. Adrian's fork clinked against his plate as he set it down.
"That's… less than two months from now."
His tone was flat, but beneath it was something harder, sharper—like gears turning fast.
Callen, still pouting, added cheerfully.
"Better enjoy the food while it lasts, Cross."
Adrian said nothing. His eyes lingered on Yu, unreadable.
Adrian sat back in his chair, fork abandoned, his food cooling untouched.
Two months.
The phrase echoed like a clock ticking in his skull. Two months until Yu was out of reach—slipping through his fingers, carried away to Paris, to a world where Yu's soft spoken words and domestic touches wouldn't reach him anymore.
His chest tightened. It wasn't just the food, or the way Yu smoothed down his sleeve, or the sound of his laughter softening Callen's edges. It was all of it—woven into something Adrian hadn't realized he was already tethered to.
'I won't let him slip away.'
He hid his tightening grip on the napkin under the table, his jaw steady, his expression calm—like a lawyer in the courtroom masking every tell. But inside, something sharp and possessive was already rearranging itself.
Yu, sensing the sudden weight in Adrian's silence, tilted his head.
"It's nothing dramatic."
He said, tone light.
"Just an opportunity I couldn't ignore. It's temporary. I'll be back."
He stood and began stacking plates with practiced ease, brushing the moment aside with the same effortless domesticity he used to serve dinner.
"You'll survive without me for a little while. Maybe even learn to cook on your own."
Callen snorted.
"Yeah, right. As if I'll ever cook."
Adrian hummed low in his throat, noncommittal. His gaze lingered on Yu's hands, the quiet curve of his back as he leaned over the table. Temporary or not, two months is too long. Far too long.
The clink of dishes and the sound of running water filled the space as Yu cleaned up, humming faintly to himself, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.
When the kitchen gleamed again, he drifted into the living room, sketchbook in hand. He tucked himself onto the smaller loveseat, legs folded under him, pencil scratching quick shapes onto paper.
Callen sprawled across half the couch like he owned it, phone in hand, feet bouncing lazily against the cushions as he scrolled.
Adrian stood, gathering his briefcase with precision.
"I'll be upstairs."
He said evenly.
"Papers for the firm. And assignments."
His tone was clipped, professional, but his eyes flicked once more toward Yu before he turned away.
"Don't stay up too late, Cross."
Callen teased, half-hearted, as Adrian disappeared up the stairs and down the hall.
Yu exhaled softly into the quiet that followed, curled on the loveseat, the soft scratch of his pencil the only sound beside Callen's occasional scroll-sigh from the couch. His lines were quick at first, impatient—drapes, cobblestones, a cathedral arch. Then slower, more deliberate, as he shaped dresses flowing with Parisian silhouettes, coats with asymmetrical cuts, layered textures he'd only glimpsed in magazines or online.
'Paris…'
His chest hummed with a mix of thrill and unease. In his last world, college had barely begun before he dropped out due to Jezebel's scheme and then the weight of pregnancy that tethered him, with Taro and Kenji. His days had been carved into caretaking, not exploring and though he attempted to do online classes, slowly he found the need to further his education a distraction rather than a necessity. He had also never traveled, never let himself dream of foreign skylines.
Now the chance gleamed in front of him like a dangling key.
[You're not calculating the timing right, Yu. In a couple of months, your belly's going to start showing, and people will notice. You can't stay hidden forever.]
Yu inwardly rolled his eyes.
'Then I'll wear sweaters. Big ones. Jackets. Paris is cold, right?'
[Strategic oversight. But… understandable. It could work… in theory.]
Yu chuckled softly to himself, brushing graphite smudges off his fingers. His sketches filled with airy fabrics, feather-light gowns that seemed almost impossible to contain within paper margins.
'If I can just make it there.'
He thought.
'I'll breathe something new. Something not weighed down by missions or targets or even classrooms I never got to finish.'
---
Meanwhile, upstairs in his room, Adrian sat at his desk, the glow of his laptop casting sharp shadows over his serious face. A thick stack of internship papers sat open, but his eyes weren't on them. Instead, his browser was filled with tabs—study-abroad visa procedures, French internships for law students, short-term housing near Parisian universities.
'Coincidence. Just a coincidence.'
He told himself. If anyone asked, he'd spin it as chance. That he had always wanted to broaden his law experience abroad. That it was only natural he ended up in the same city as Yu.
But inside, his jaw clenched as his pen clicked rhythmically against the desk. Coincidence doesn't exist. Not with him.
He leaned back, exhaling through his nose. If Yu thought two months would distance him, Adrian would ensure otherwise.
---
Downstairs, the night stretched thin. Callen finally rolled off the couch and disappeared into his room, muttering something about setting alarms he'd never wake up to.
Yu set his pencil down, flipping his sketchbook closed with care. He stood, stretching his long limbs, hair falling loose around his shoulders.
"Goodnight."
He called softly toward Callen's room, even though the blond didn't answer.
Then, quiet as a ghost, Yu slipped into his own bedroom, shutting the door behind him. The house settled into stillness—three men under one roof, each carrying unspoken weight, each turning their thoughts over to Yu in different ways.