The next morning, Yu moved through his routine with quiet precision, though his heart still throbbed with unease from yesterday. He padded barefoot to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, washing his face, taming his hair into a neat braid before pulling on a soft oversized sweater that fell halfway down his thighs. Baggy pants hid the rest of him, and still his hand drifted over his flat stomach, absent-mindedly pressing.
[Host, I've recalculated and feel I need to remind you; the Paris plan presents a 37% risk of exposure should pregnancy develop beyond the second trimester.]
Yu muttered out loud around his toothbrush.
"I said I'd hide it. It's not your problem."
[Correction: any danger to the child is my problem. It triggers termination protocols. Meaning should you die, so will I.]
"Ugh."
He spat out the toothpaste and clicked his tongue.
"Tch. You're such a nagging husband, you know that?"
Back at his desk, Yu flipped open his sketchbook and pulled out his phone. The familiar pale screen, the sign-up prompts, the username field—it all came back in a rush of nostalgia.
'Fumiko, Sakura… you'd be proud I remembered.'
With practiced ease, he recreated what had once been Yukio's escape.
Username: @YuSketches.
Profile: student // sketching the world one page at a time.
He uploaded a carousel of finished drawings—clothing drafts, fabric studies, one atmospheric sketch of Paris rooftops in pencil. The likes would come later; what mattered now was planting the seed.
Satisfied, he copied the link and tossed it into the group chat with Callen and Adrian. A second later, he sent it to Joy with a simple text message.
Yuvin: Just started this. Thought you'd like it.
Predictably, Callen spammed the chat with fire emojis and chef's kiss stickers. Adrian only left a single-word reply.
Adrian: Nice.
Joy, on the other hand, blew up his notifications with strings of hearts and sparkles.
Yu chuckled softly, warmth blooming despite the heaviness in his chest.
The buzz of his phone cut through his small smile. A new message, this time from Izan.
Izan: Hey, Yu. Could we meet up later? For the Rome love project. It's due at the end of the term, and I thought… maybe if you had the time today we can make some headway on it?
Yu arched a brow. The "Rome love project"—their class assignment meant to explore cultural concepts of romance in modern-day. The excuse was paper-thin. He could practically hear the nerves vibrating behind Izan's words.
Still, Yu's lips curled mischievously as he tapped a reply while setting out ingredients for breakfast.
Yuvin: The project, right? You sure it's about Rome and not a certain Juliet you want to see again?
The dots blinked.
Izan: …That obvious?
Yuvin: Painfully. Don't worry, I'll bring you over again soon. But if I'm playing chaperone, you owe me coffee.
Izan sent back a blushing emoji, followed by a desperate text.
Izan: 😳Please don't tell Joy.
Yu smirked, slipping eggs into a pan.
Yuvin: Relax. I want this project to be a love story, not a tragedy.
By the time the toast popped, Callen had rolled out of bed, rubbing his eyes, already teasing.
"Smells like love in the air, Yu~"
Yu flicked him with a dishtowel and set a plate down in front of him anyway.
Adrian came last, sharp in his tailored suit. As always, Yu moved without thinking, tugging gently at his tie to straighten it. Adrian froze for the briefest second before murmuring low.
"Thank you."
Yu brushed it off with a brisk.
"Wash up, your plate's ready."
The scene was so domestic, so practiced, that Yu caught himself pausing.
'I really do look like a housewife here…'
He shook the thought away, stacked his own books into his school bag, and slipped his phone inside with a decisive snap.
---
Later that day, Yu arrived at the library steps with his bag slung over one shoulder, braid swaying lightly down his back. Izan was already there, bouncing on his heels, clearly too nervous for his own good.
Yu lifted a hand in lazy greeting.
"Well, Romeo, ready to study… or just hoping to get a peek at Juliet again?"
Izan flushed crimson.
"Yuvin!"
He hissed, glancing around as if Joy might appear from behind a column.
Yu only chuckled, letting the teasing mask the small pang in his chest.
'At least one of us gets a simple love story.'
He tipped his head toward the door.
"Come on then. Let's go write ourselves a Roman romance."
The library smelled faintly of polished wood and paper, hushed with the low rustle of pages turning. Yu claimed a table tucked into a corner, spreading out notes with neat efficiency while Izan fumbled beside him, his pencil tapping nervously against the edge of his notebook.
Yu leaned forward, his braid slipping across his shoulder as he pointed at their outline.
"We'll frame it around how Roman ideals of courtship—grand gestures, duty, family honor—still haunt modern romance. Perfect contrast for your angle."
"Right… yeah."
Izan muttered, eyes fixed on Yu rather than the notes. His throat bobbed as he swallowed, the image of that night in Joy's closet still fresh—Yu pressed against him, thighs astride, the warmth and weight of him seared into Izan's palms. Even now, with Yu hidden in loose sweater and baggy pants, Izan could feel the memory in his fingertips.
He blurted before he could stop himself.
"H-how did you feel about that time… in the closet?"
Yu blinked, tilting his head.
"Do you mean when I came out of the closet—"
He waggled his fingers airily.
"—or my time inside it?"
His hazel-red eyes glittered with dry humor.
"Because I've done both."
Izan froze, mouth opening and closing.
"I-I meant… that night, when…"
His face burned crimson.
"When you… sat on me."
"Ohhh."
Yu hummed like he'd finally gotten it, lips quirking.
"That."
He leaned back in his chair, chin resting on his palm.
"I suppose I felt… cramped. Claustrophobic. Like I couldn't breathe."
A sly pause.
"Though that might've just been you squeezing my hips. But I get it, it was just an accident."
Izan groaned, burying his face in his hands.
"Yu…"
Yu smirked, flipping a page of notes.
"Relax, Romeo. Focus on Juliet. I'm just the matchmaker here. Would that make me Juliet's nurse or—no wait, I guess I'd be like a mix of her and Friar?"
But Izan's heart pounded too hard to hear the rest. He peeked out from behind his hands, cheeks still red.
"But Yu…"
His voice dropped, half-whisper, half-plea.
"…it didn't feel like just… an accident. When you were—"
His throat caught.
"—on my lap. It felt… different. Real."
Yu's pencil froze mid-scribble. He let out a slow breath through his nose, forcing a smile that was more wry than warm.
"Izan…"
He said softly.
"It was dark. Stressful. Anyone would've reacted the way you did. A man, a lap, a sudden weight and warmth? Your body responded. That's all. Perfectly normal."
"But—"
Yu cut him off, his tone still gentle but firm.
"Listen. It takes more than lust to make people fall for each other. Chemistry. Shared memories. Inside jokes. Mutual dreams. Do you and I share any of that?"
He arched a brow, gaze steady.
"Or do you share that with Joy?"
Izan blinked.
"Joy…"
"Exactly."
Yu leaned in, voice coaxing now, almost like a teacher nudging a nervous student.
"You light up when you talk about her. You blush even harder when she's around, not me. That's the real thing, Izan. What you thought you felt with me was just adrenaline and nerves. What you feel for her—trust that."
Izan slumped back in his chair, shoulders sagging with relief and embarrassment.
"…You really think so?"
"I know so."
Yu said, with a little smile that disarmed and steadied in the same breath.
"And I'm here to help. To make sure you don't let her slip away. That's my job as her best friend."
For a moment Izan's eyes softened, gratitude flickering in them.
"…Thanks, Yu."
Yu tapped his pen against the table with a mock-stern look.
"Good. Now stop thinking about closets and start thinking about Cupid. We've got Rome's love culture to analyze."
Izan stared down at the half-scribbled notes in front of him, the words blurring as his chest filled with something heavier than embarrassment. Yu's voice, steady and sure, echoed in his head.
"That's the real thing. Trust it."
He exhaled, slowly. When he looked up again, his blush was still there, but it was different now—less from shame, more from resolve. He let his gaze settle on Yu, who was already scribbling neat bullet points about Roman courtship traditions, humming faintly as he tapped his pen.
'He's right.'
Izan told himself.
'What I felt with Joy—that's been building since the first day. She's the one who helped me when I was lost. She's the one who made me want to stay. Not this… fleeting heat from panic in a closet. Joy is real.'
His jaw tightened as he sat up straighter, his notes suddenly more focused, his handwriting sharpening.
"Okay."
He muttered, almost to himself.
"I can do this. I know now."
Yu caught the whisper but didn't look up, only smirked slightly, satisfied with the shift in the air around Izan.
That's when Yu's phone buzzed against the table, nearly tipping his pen cup. He glanced at the screen. A message from Joy lit up in bright emojis and exclamation points.
Joy: ✨️💥💫 YU YU!!! 🤗💖 GUESS WHAT!!! I have so much to tell you about IZAN ❤️❤️❤️🌹😳 He was soooo sweet last night!! 😭💗✨My Iz got me flowers!! 💐💘💘 They're hidden in my closet!! 😆🌸💞🌟
Yu chuckled under his breath, tilting the phone slightly away so Izan couldn't see.
The timing was perfect—almost too perfect.
Yu angled his phone just enough to frame Izan in the shot—head bowed, brows furrowed, his pen scratching across the page with uncharacteristic determination.
Click.
He quickly attached the photo to his reply and typed.
Yuvin: look who's working sooooo hard for you 📝💪
Yuvin: guess he's got someone on his mind~ 💕
He sent it off before Izan even noticed the soft shutter sound. Yu smirked, leaning back in his chair, watching out of the corner of his eye as his phone lit up with Joy's delighted flood of heart emojis and squealing stickers.
Izan glanced up, curious at Yu's grin.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Yu said lightly, twirling his pen between his fingers.
"Just… proud of how seriously you're taking this. I think it's going to pay off sooner than you think."
The faintest pink brushed Izan's ears. He nodded, his chest feeling a little lighter.
Soon, the clock chimed on the library wall. Izan blinked, surprised at the time.
"I… I've got to get to my next class."
Yu snapped his notebook shut and gave a breezy wave.
"Go. And don't slack off—I'll know if you do."
Izan chuckled softly, shouldering his bag. As he walked off, he turned back once, meeting Yu's eyes for half a beat before vanishing into the crowd of students.
Yu, left alone, exhaled through his nose and allowed himself a tiny, satisfied smile.
As Izan disappeared into the stream of students, DK01's interface flickered softly in Yu's mind's eye.
[Progress noted. Joy–Izan bond strengthening at a steady pace. You're managing the path efficiently, Host.]
Yu's lips curved into a small, smug smile.
'Of course I am.'
He adjusted the strap of his bag and cut across the quad, sunlight warming his back.
'I promised Joy her fairy tale. And I always deliver.'
The interface blinked once more, then dimmed, leaving him with only the mundane chatter of campus life around him. Yu's smile softened into something almost private as he thought about his next steps.
"Lunch, then French…"
He murmured under his breath, already picturing Callen's cocky grin when he "tutored" him. The thought made his stomach flutter in an odd mix of amusement and wariness.
With his schedule blissfully open for the rest of the day, Yu decided it was better to return home, cook something light—enough for himself and whatever Adrian might have left behind in the fridge—and brace himself for Callen's inevitable antics in their so-called lesson.
The late afternoon air carried a crispness that tugged at Yu's oversized sweater. His steps were light, but his mind wandered heavier as he walked down the path.
Theo's face slipped into his thoughts—uninvited, unwelcome, yet impossible to shake. The way his touch lingered too long, the way his lips claimed without asking, the way Yu's body betrayed him and yielded in return.
Yu's heart fluttered traitorously, heat pooling low before twisting into something sharper. His hand drifted down, absently stroking the flat plane of his stomach beneath the sweater. The gesture was automatic, protective, fearful.
'If…'
He cut the thought off before it could spiral further.
'No. Don't think about it. Not now. Not yet.'
He exhaled sharply and forced his steps quicker, as if speed alone could outrun the echo of Theo's warmth.
---
The familiar creak of the front door and the faint scent of cologne told him Adrian wasn't back yet, though Callen's sneakers by the entryway confirmed at least one of his "grown babies" was home.
Yu kicked off his shoes neatly, set his bag down by the couch, and padded straight to the kitchen. The rhythm of mundane tasks soothed him—pulling out pots, setting water to boil, slicing vegetables with practiced ease.
Lunch would be simple: a light noodle stir-fry with leftover chicken and crisp greens. Easy, quick, filling. Something to keep his mind from wandering too far back to Theo's smoldering gaze or forward to the uncertainty pressing at his stomach.
'Food first…'
Yu decided firmly as he tossed the pan with a flick of his wrist.
'Then Callen and his French.'
Yu set the plate down with the same weary sigh he'd perfected over the weeks—half annoyance, half inevitability. Callen, of course, was already lounging like a king on the couch, phone propped up with one hand.
"Come eat."
Yu muttered as he headed over to him, ruffling Callen's blond hair in passing as a petty little revenge for always acting spoiled.
But before he could withdraw, Callen's hand rose, wrapping firmly around his wrist. Yu froze.
For a fleeting moment, Callen pressed Yu's hand deeper into his golden locks, savoring the warmth, the weight, as if branding himself with the touch. Then, slowly, he drew Yu's hand down toward his lips.
The brush of Callen's mouth against his skin was brief but scorching. His emerald eyes lifted, smoldering in a way that stripped away the clownish ease he always wore. For that heartbeat, he was something else—hungry, possessive, dangerous.
Then it was gone. The grin snapped back into place.
"Thanks for the food!"
Callen said breezily, releasing him then heading over to the table and digging into the plate like nothing had happened.
Yu blinked, startled, heat blooming in his ears. But he reminded himself—
'Callen flirts with everyone. This is just how he is.'
He sat down with his own plate, pushing the moment aside.
---
After lunch, the clatter of dishes in the sink filled the kitchen as Yu rinsed and stacked plates, sleeves rolled up. It was soothing, familiar—mundane enough to ground him.
That was, until he felt Callen's presence at his back. The blond leaned against the counter like he owned the space, arms crossed, grin crooked.
"So..."
Callen drawled, eyes following Yu's every movement.
"How about we get to those French lessons you asked about?"
Yu stilled mid-scrub, suds dripping from the plate in his hand. He looked over his shoulder, meeting Callen's too-easy grin, and felt DK01's warning flicker faintly in the back of his mind.
Callen, oblivious—or perhaps deliberately ignoring it—tipped his head.
"I think some basic phrases and words are a good place to start."
Yu dried his hands and tossed the towel over his shoulder.
"Sounds good."
He sighed.
"Let's do it in the living room."
Callen perked up instantly, following after Yu with an eager grin. He dropped himself across the couch, sprawled like a king, while Yu purposefully sat on the loveseat a few feet away.
"Lesson one!"
Callen said, his voice dropping into a surprisingly smooth cadence.
"Bonjour. It means hello. Try it."
"Bonjour."
Yu repeated, his accent soft, tentative.
Callen smirked, shaking his head.
"Not bad, but your mouth—"
His eyes flickered there, too long—
"Your mouth needs to shape the 'r' differently."
He leaned forward, rolling the sound in his throat.
"Bonn-jooor. Like that."
Yu frowned, cheeks coloring. He tried again, slower this time.
"Bonn-jour."
"There it is."
Callen murmured approvingly, his voice a low rumble.
"Now, merci. Thank you."
"Merci."
"Closer."
He coaxed, shifting from the couch to sink beside Yu on the loveseat. He leaned in, guiding Yu's chin lightly with his fingers as though adjusting posture.
"Relax your lips. Soften them."
Yu stiffened at the contact but followed his instruction, repeating.
"Merci."
Callen's green eyes glinted.
"Perfect. Now a phrase: Tu es beau. It means… you're handsome."
Yu blinked, startled.
"You're teaching me compliments now?"
"Of course."
Callen teased, his voice soft and playful.
"The most important words in any language are the ones you use when you want someone. Say it. Tu es beau."
Yu's throat tightened, but he whispered it back.
"Tu es beau."
The words brushed against Callen like a caress, his self-control fraying as he gazed at Yu's lips shaping the syllables. He swallowed hard, then, unable to resist, tilted Yu's chin up higher and leaned closer—his mouth brushing against Yu's just enough for it to blur the line between lesson and something else entirely.
Callen's lips grazed Yu's. It wasn't a full kiss—more like a question, a dare hanging in the space between them.
Yu's eyes went wide, his whole body jolting back. His first instinct screamed push him away, now. He planted both palms on Callen's chest and shoved, breathless.
"W-what do you think you're doing?!"
Callen only leaned back slightly, green eyes glinting like he'd expected the shove.
"French lesson."
His grin curved slow and lazy, but the heat in his gaze betrayed the casual act.
Yu's heart thudded. His breath came short.
[WARNING!!]
DK01's voice was sharp in Yu's mind.
[Host, you are deviating dangerously close to crossing the line with another man who is not the Tragic Target nor do you have permission to add him to your harem. Immediate termination via permanent death risk is high should this entanglement escalates outside protocol boundaries. Recommend disengage.]
[ERROR! ERROR! RESTRAINTS PLACED ON INCUBUS KING SOUL DETERIORATING!]
[Host! Get away from him! Quickly!]
[ERROR!
ATTEMPTING TO RECOVER CONTROL!
PLACING HIGHER RESTRICTIONS!
…
FAILURE!
DETERIORATION INEVITABLE!
CAUTION ADVISED!]
Yu clenched his fists, his mind a storm.
'I should slap him. I should run. I should—'
But then his Incubus instincts stirred—hungry, impatient, insidious. The taste of lips lingered on his own, and his body betrayed him. Heat pooled low in his stomach. His heart fluttered.
And before he realized it, he leaned forward again. The shove turned into a pull, his fingers curling into Callen's shirt as if dragging him back. Their mouths crashed fully this time—no longer a question, but an answer.
Callen groaned against him, shocked by the sudden shift, but quick to seize it, his hands bracing Yu's hips and tugging him closer. Yu gasped into the kiss, the sound soft and intoxicating, and his lips parted instinctively. Their tongues brushed, and Yu melted, body curving toward him with a tremor that had nothing to do with thought and everything to do with instinct.
For a fleeting moment, the world narrowed—just lips, heat, breath, the intoxicating spark of being wanted.