Kian woke up at six in the morning, as usual. The silence in the apartment was the same, but it was no longer empty. There was a new awareness of another life behind the walls, a feeling he did not like at all. He got out of bed, his morning routine his only armor against the chaos that had begun to seep into his world. First, coffee.
He headed towards the kitchen with quiet steps, but stopped at the entrance.
The smell of coffee already filled the space. And someone was standing at the counter, their back to him.
It was Leo. But what made him freeze in place wasn't his presence, but what he was wearing.
He was wearing one of Kian's shirts. Not just any shirt, but one of his crisp, white dress shirts with the stiff collar, the kind he wore to important meetings. The shirt was huge on Leo's slender frame, reaching mid-thigh like a short dress. One shoulder had slipped down, revealing his soft skin. The sleeves were messily rolled up, and the stark white fabric contrasted sharply with the black thigh-high socks he was wearing. Underneath, he wore nothing but his underwear.
The first wave of Kian's reaction was pure anger. That's my shirt. From my closet. He went into my room? My personal space? He had broken a cardinal rule on day one.
But the second wave that followed was far more complex and dangerous. It was a wave of raw possession and lust. To see his own symbol of control and order—his formal shirt—hugging Leo's soft, curved body sent a shock through his system. The way the fabric draped over his round ass, the way it outlined the shape of his hips under the loose cotton… Leo had turned a piece of work attire into an explicit instrument of seduction.
Kian stepped into the kitchen, his voice coming out hoarse and hard. "What do you think you're doing?"
Leo turned around slowly, a coffee mug in his hand. He didn't look surprised or scared. Instead, a small, sly smile played on his lips. "Good morning. I couldn't find a bathrobe, so I borrowed this. Hope you don't mind."
"I mind very much," Kian said as he poured himself a cup of the coffee Leo had made, trying to ignore the fact that his home now smelled like a combination of coffee and Leo's personal scent… on his own clothes.
Leo hopped onto one of the high stools at the kitchen counter, his long legs dangling gracefully. "Oh, don't be so grumpy in the morning. I made you coffee."
Kian took a sip. It was perfect. Exactly how he liked it. How did he know?
While Kian was wrestling with his thoughts, he noticed something. Leo was holding the mug with both hands, and unconsciously, his pinky finger was moving, tracing a small, repetitive circle on the rim of the mug.
Circle… circle… stop.
Kian's eyes froze on the movement. He felt a sharp, strange pang of familiarity, so strong it made him feel dizzy for a second. A flash of a memory blinked in his mind: a younger boy, with dark hair, sitting across from him in an old café, doing the exact same thing with his little finger on a cup of hot chocolate.
Kian shook his head forcefully, banishing the memory. Impossible. Just a stupid coincidence.
"Why are you staring at me?" Leo asked, his green eyes glinting with amusement.
"I'm not staring," Kian lied, looking away. "I'm just wondering at the extent of your audacity."
Leo let out a soft, low laugh. "You should get used to it." He hopped off the stool and moved to place his mug in the sink. As he passed by Kian, he slowed for a moment, leaned close to his ear, and whispered, his voice barely audible. "I think your shirt looks better on me, anyway."
Kian felt Leo's warm breath on his neck, and his entire body shivered involuntarily.
Leo pulled back with a smile, then headed towards his room, his hips swaying just slightly with each step, fully aware that Kian was watching him.
Kian was left alone in the kitchen, frozen in place, mug in hand. It was no longer just about the violent physical desire he felt. It was now a mystery. Who was this young man who wore his clothes, made his coffee exactly how he liked it, and carried a familiar trace from a past he thought he had buried long ago?
The first seed of doubt had been planted. And Kian started to feel afraid, not of Leo, but of the fact that he wanted to know more.