AVIDITY [BL] || Yandere!Male Characters X Isekai!M!Reader
Avidity : The quality of being extremely eager or interested
One late night, you drift off after binge-reading your favorite horror manga—only to wake up in another world. To your horror, you’ve been reincarnated as a minor side character who was originally killed off by the main protagonist. Determined to survive, you hatch a cunning plan: avoid the protagonist, dodge every love interest, and fade into the background as a forgettable extra. But fate has other plans. One by one, they start noticing you—and your quiet rebellion only makes you more irresistible.
Ch. 09 ; Coffe Questionary
I got a new co-author to help me with this story :D
There were three knocks on your dorm door that woke you up instantly. The knocking was gentle but firm, and you didn't need to check the time to know who it was.
"M/N, breakfast is ready."
Isaac's calm voice rang out from behind your door.
It had become a familiar routine by now — Isaac waking you at exactly 7AM each weekday precisely.
You groaned softly, still half-buried in blankets that smelled faintly of the lavender laundry detergent he'd bought for the dorm. Your body protested the movement, muscles still sore from yesterday, but the promise of food pulled you upright.
You sat up slowly, rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and swung your legs over the side of the bed.
The floor was cold beneath your bare feet until you slipped into the fluffy bunny slippers Isaac had gifted you — it was still ridiculous but it felt like the most comfortable thing your feet had ever touched.
You shuffled toward the door, your hair mess, your shirt wrinkled, and stepped out into the main living area.
The smell hit you immediately.
Warm, sweet, bursting with the unmistakable scent of fresh blueberries.
Your stomach growled audibly as you inhaled in the aroma . ‘I could get used to this every morning’, you thought, watching as Isaac moved around the kitchen with ease.
He was pulling a fresh batch of what seemed to be muffins out of the oven, the tray balanced carefully in his oven-mitted hands.
Isaac was wearing a tight minion apron wrapped around his torso. It should have made you laugh. But instead, your gaze snagged on the way the apron cinched at his waist, emphasizing the lean lines of his body beneath the fabric.
‘Damn’, you thought, catching yourself. ‘He's got a nice waist.’
You ripped your gaze away quickly, heat crawling up the back of your neck, and made your way to your usual seat at the dining table. The chair creaked softly as you sat down.
"Good morning, Isaac," you said, your voice still rough with sleep.
Isaac turned toward you, his grey eyes soft in the morning light streaming through the windows. "Good morning, M/N." Isaac turned from the counter, a plate in his hands. He walked over and set it in front of you, "I have baked blueberry breakfast muffins for breakfast this morning. I hope you enjoy them."
You stared at the muffins. They looked perfect — Your stomach growled again.
"Ah, that looks nice!" you said, already reaching for one. "Thanks."
Isaac watched you take a muffin, his expression unreadable but somehow warm. He sat down across from you with his own plate, cradling a cup of tea in his hands, and the morning light caught his face just right.
You bit into the muffin. It was warm, bursting with sweet and tart blueberry, the crumb tender and buttery.
"You've outdone yourself," you mumbled through a mouthful of muffin.
Isaac's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. "I'm glad you approve, M/N."
You took another bite, and another, and tried not to think about the way his waist looked in that apron.
You closed your eyes and sighed.
’Yeah’, you thought. ‘I could definitely get used to this.’
"I was thinking about your offer," Isaac said, setting his own plate down across from you and taking a seat. His grey eyes met yours across the table, "To spend quality time together at the cafe today. From last night."
"Ah, yeah!" You swallowed your bite of muffin, reaching for your glass of water. "When are you free?"
Isaac's lips curved into a small smile. "I cleared my scheduled meetings for today. I'm available when we're both done with our classes."
"Alright, cool!" You paused, your hand hovering over your water glass. A small knot of guilt twisted in your stomach. "You didn't have to clear out your meetings, though." You nervously put your hand behind your neck, rubbing at the skin there.
Isaac blinked, his expression softening. "I wanted to."
"Well, that's nice of you." You looked down at your muffin, at the way the blueberries bled into the crumb. "I just hope you don't have to catch up with more work later on."
Isaac was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was lower. "I already am dealing with a lot of work." He paused, and you looked up to find his eyes fixed on you, "But I'm looking forward to spending time with you either way."
Your chest tightened. You looked away first, reaching for your muffin again just to have something to do with your hands.
"Okay," you said softly. "Me too."
Isaac nodded once, then picked up his own muffin and took a bite. The two of you ate in comfortable silence, the morning light growing brighter through the windows.
You continued to go through classes until it was finally over, the hours blurring together in a haze.
But throughout the day, your mind kept drifting back to the library. To the green-haired male with the fogged glasses that kept noting down things every glance at took at you.
He began to stand out more ever since you'd noticed him.
No matter what class you were in, no matter which hallway you walked through, you always had a familiar sense whenever you looked at him — like you knew him from somewhere, but you couldn't place a finger onto what it was that made him look so familiar.
The way he held himself. The way his dark green eyes seemed to linger on you a moment too long before darting away. The way his glasses caught the light, obscuring his expression.
It was starting to unsettle you.
Your final class for the day came to an end. The professor's voice faded into the background as students began packing up, chairs scraping against the floor, bags being zipped shut.
You made sure to wave goodbye to Naoko, who was already halfway out the door, her ponytail swinging behind her.
"See you tomorrow!" you called.
She waved without turning around and disappeared into the crowd.
You turned back to Azure, who was carefully packing his things — his notebook, his switch, his iPad . You reached over and picked up his stuffed raccoon toy from where it sat on the corner of his desk, holding it up to the light.
"Ever thought of giving this critter a name?" you asked, turning the toy over in your hands.
Azure looked up, his cheeks flushing pink. "O-Oh! U-uhm.. I, er, was th-thinking S-Stripes?"
You shrugged, a smile tugging at your lips. "It's up to you. Stripes is a cool name, though."
Azure finished zipping his bag and stood up, falling into step beside you as you headed for the door. "W-well, it-it's also you- your, er, choice."
You blinked at him. "Eh? It's not like it's mine!"
"I- I thought may- maybe…" Azure swallowed hard, his eyes darting away. "We cou-could share him?"
You smirked, a teasing lilt creeping into your voice. "Like, as parents?" You watched his face turn an even deeper shade of red and chuckled. "Chill, I'm easy."
Azure made a small sound — something between a squeak and a laugh — and nodded, his face now the color of a ripe tomato. "Gah! If… if yo- you want.."
You chuckled, reaching over to ruffle his curls. "Sure, that'd be fun."
Azure's shoulders relaxed, a shy smile spreading across his face. He looked up at you through his bangs, his dark eyes soft.
You reached the door and stepped into the hallway, you tucked Stripes under your arm and glanced down at him. "I'll walk you and drop you off to your dorm, yeah?"
Azure nodded, his smile still in place, and the two of you started down the corridor together.
You and Azure continued to chat as you walked him through the winding hallways. He talked about a new game he'd started playing on his switch. You nodded along, asking questions, making jokes, watching the way his nervous energy seemed to settle whenever you laughed.
You quietly took note of how Azure seemed more relaxed around you compared to the first time you met him. His shoulders weren't as hunched. His gaze didn't dart around anxiously. And his stuttering had lessened — not gone entirely, but softer.
But every now and then, you felt the hairs on the back of your neck prickle up.
Your stomach began to slightly churn in discomfort, a low-grade unease that coiled in your gut.
You tried to hide it — but something was wrong. You could feel it.
You felt like there was somebody watching you. Another pair of eyes on you, tracking your movements, following your every step.
You turned back for what seemed like the umpteenth time — and yet there was no one there.
But the feeling didn't go away.
By the time you realized it, you had made it to Azure's dorm. The building was quieter here, tucked away from the main campus.
You stopped at the door, and Azure turned to face you, his bright blue eyes soft.
Azure took the raccoon plushie from your arms, his hand lingering a little more than necessary. His fingers brushed against yours.
"I-I Ho-hope you stay ov-over one day," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
You smiled back, a warm feeling spreading through your chest. "No worries, Princess. I wouldn't want to miss out on that."
You blew him a playful kiss and waved him off as you turned and walked away.
Behind you, Azure stood frozen for a moment, his face flushed, his hands clutching Stripes to his chest. Then he ducked inside his dorm, the door clicking shut behind him.
You walked down the path, your hands in your pockets, your mind already drifting to the cafe later with Isaac.
The sun was warm on your face, the breeze gentle through your hair. For a moment, everything felt almost normal.
But the hairs on the back of your neck were still prickling.
"Oh, good afternoon. You must be M/N, right?"
You flinched at the sudden voice appearing beside you.
Your shoulders tensed, and you turned to look at the person behind you, already bracing yourself for another awkward encounter with another classmate who wanted to mock you about your past.
To your shock, it was Ito Makoto.
Your brain short-circuited for a moment, scrambling to place him.
The glasses. The outside braces. The long bangs that seemed to cover half his face like a curtain. You knew him — not personally, but from the manga!
Makoto was the final male lead of the manga. The journalist of the campus, the head editor of the campus news, the sharp-tongued know-it-all who looked down on everyone around him.
You remembered being part of the fan speculations on Reddit about how Makoto could have been involved with Takara's death. The theories had been wild, unsubstantiated, but they'd stuck with you. Ever since his character was introduced, you'd had high suspicions of him.
And now here he was. Standing beside you in the hallway, business card already in hand, looking at you like you were a story he couldn't wait to dissect.
Your eyes flicked over his face, taking in the details the manga panels had never quite captured. His glasses were thick, slightly smudged, and they magnified his eyes in a way that made him look perpetually surprised. The braces glinted when he smiled — which he was doing now, a thin, practiced curl of his lips. And his bangs were longer than you'd expected, falling across his forehead and shadowing one of his eyes.
His whole look screamed nerd. You already didn't like him.
And you weren't going to waste your time kissing his ass.
"Well," Makoto said, adjusting his glasses with a flourish, "my name is Makoto Ito, and I major in journalism."
You stared at him. "Okay..?"
"Ah, pardon my rudeness." He gave a small bow — more of a head tilt, really, like he was humoring you rather than showing genuine respect. "I wanted to ask you to help me out with a little school project of mine. You see, as an aspiring journalist, I wanted to work to make my own article — to possibly publish — and I would be delighted if you were up for an interview!"
You raised an eyebrow. "An interview? About what?"
Makoto's smile widened, and there was something sharp in it, something calculating. "I am currently studying the way reputation modifies the other students' perception of a singular person." He gestured vaguely at the students milling around you, the ones who still whispered when you passed.
"And considering your… less than ideal reputation, I wanted to confirm for myself if the voices that flutter around the students' mouths are indeed truthful or just fruitless gossip."
You crossed your arms. "Well, why should I?"
"Ah, I'm glad you asked that." Makoto stepped closer, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret.
"You see, after that dramatic spectacle you put at the library, information such as the ones I have would be very valuable for your pretty little head." He paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"You know, I could actually just interview little mister perfect — the one that the rumors say you follow around like a little puppy? But I figured, why not ask the supposed dog? Even if recently I feel the roles have been somewhat reversed."
Your jaw tightened. ‘Little mister perfect? The supposed dog? Is he calling ME a dog? Roles reversed??’
He knew about Wren. Of course he did. Everyone knew about Wren.
"Well," Makoto said, glancing at his watch with exaggerated impatience, "I have to go now. Not everyone has enough free time to follow strangers around." He pressed a business card into your hand, "Think about my words."
You looked down at the card.
Makoto Ito, Head Editor, Campus Chronicle. His office number, his phone number, his email. All printed in crisp black ink.
"That's my business card," he said, already turning away. "Don't lose it. I won't give you another." He glanced back at you over his shoulder, his eyes gleaming behind his glasses. "If you ever feel… adamant about sharing your situation, just come to my office. Or call me. Or text me. It's all written there. I'm sure you can read without a problem." He smiled — thin and sharp.
“Well, farewell. I certainly do hope we can meet again. Possibly in my office."
And then he walked away, his footsteps echoing down the hallway, his long coat flaring behind him like a cape.
You stood there, frozen, staring after him.
He was as weird as you thought he'd be. Weirder, maybe.
You looked down at the business card in your hand, then back up at the empty hallway where Makoto had disappeared.
"Creep," you muttered, shoving the card into your pocket.
You'd throw it away later. Probably.
You finally made it to your dorm, the familiar hallway stretching out behind you as the door clicked shut.
You used your student ID to open the door with a swift swipe, the lock beeping softly as you stepped inside.
"Isaac?" you called out as you walked in, kicking off your shoes by the door.
You heard a faint sound of paper rustling and pen clicking. You followed the noise into the living room, and there Isaac was, seated on the couch with his back to you.
He seemed to be deep into paperwork, his shoulders hunched, his head bent low over the coffee table. A bouquet of roses was set on the side of the table, their deep red petals slightly wilting at the edges, pressed between huge stacks of paper that threatened to topple over.
You slowly walked your way behind him, your footsteps soft against the floor. "Isaac?"
Isaac didn't even look up. His pen scratched across the page, his handwriting neat but rushed, and his other hand was already reaching for the next form. He was too busy scribbling down on papers to acknowledge your presence.
You noticed his eyebags — darker than usual, beneath his grey eyes that spoke of late nights and early mornings.
His cornrows were slightly disheveled, a few strands escaping the careful styling he usually maintained. Even his posture seemed off, his spine curved in a way that suggested he'd been sitting here for hours without moving.
"M/N," he said, his voice distracted, almost apologetic. "I'm truly sorry. Would it be possible to extend our time to go out?" He paused, finally glancing up at you over his shoulder. His eyes were tired, but they still held that warmth you'd come to recognize.
"I.. I am currently occupied with work at the moment. Afterwards, I have to go to an interview with the head news editor. He's been pestering me about the school newspaper budget increases."
You gave him a sympathetic smile, your chest tightening at the exhaustion etched into his face. "Oh, Isaac. I don't mind if we extend the time. I'm also fine if we postpone the hangout."
Isaac shook his head, his jaw set with determination. "No, M/N. I really look forward to going out with you." He turned back to his papers, his pen already moving again. "I'll try to finish this up and go to the interview at the newspaper office. Afterwards, we can finally go." His voice softened. "I'm sorry."
You watched him for a moment, "Well.. alright." You hesitated, then asked, "Who are you being interviewed by?"
Isaac didn't look up. "Ito Makoto."
The business card in your pocket seemed to burn against your thigh.
You swallowed hard, forcing your expression to remain neutral. "Oh," you said, your voice carefully light. "I've heard of him. He's... persistent, from what I've gathered."
Isaac hummed in agreement, still not looking up. "That's one way to put it. He's been requesting this interview for days. I finally caved." He signed another form and set it aside. "But it shouldn't take long, then we can go. These roses were supposed to be a gift, please act surprised when I give you them.”
You nodded, even though he couldn't see you. "Okay. I'll be in my room. Just let me know when you're ready."
Isaac murmured an acknowledgment, already lost in his paperwork again. You turned and walked toward your room, your mind racing.
Makoto Ito. The journalist. The suspect. The man who had practically cornered you in the hallway and offered you an interview. And now he was interviewing Isaac!
You closed your bedroom door behind you and leaned against it, pressing your palm to your forehead.
’What am I supposed to do now?’
You already felt bad that Isaac had to deal with a workload of stress. The papers were piled high on the coffee table, spilling onto the floor.
Considering he was the student council president, he had to juggle so many things all at once — meetings, budgets, complaints, events, the endless stream of responsibilities that came with leading an entire campus.
And yet, despite all of that, he always made the time to make meals for you. To clean your room. To wake you up in the mornings with three precise knocks at exactly 7AM. To remind you to shower when you got too lost in your own head.
He had done so much for you. More than you deserved, probably.
And now Makoto Ito was going to sink his claws into him. Isaac was tired. Isaac was stressed. Isaac didn't need to deal with someone like that right now.
‘I should go to the interview’, you thought, your jaw tightening. ‘To distract Makoto so he wouldn't bother Isaac.’
It wasn't a perfect plan. It probably wasn't even a good plan. Makoto had already approached you once, had already offered you an interview. Walking into his office willingly felt like stepping into a trap you could see but couldn't avoid.
But Isaac had made you breakfast every morning. Isaac had cleaned your room. Isaac had held your hand on the couch and told you that you didn't have to face anything alone.
You sighed as you began to think, mapping out the route in your head. The newspaper office. You'd seen it on the campus map once, tucked away on the second floor, near the journalism department. It wasn't far. It was about ten-minute walk, or maybe less?
You gently opened your bedroom door, easing it open just enough to slip through. The hinges didn't creak — thank god — and you padded quietly across the living room. Isaac was still hunched over his paperwork, his back still turned to you.
You held your breath as you passed behind him, reaching for the front door, your fingers curling around the handle.
You slipped out of the dorm and closed the door behind you with a soft click, your heart pounding in your chest.
You leaned against the door for a moment, pressing your palm to your chest, feeling the rapid thrum of your heartbeat.
‘What am I doing?’ you thought.
But your feet were already moving, carrying you down the hallway, toward the stairs and to the newspaper office and whatever awaited you there.
You hesitated as you looked over the glass doors, your breath fogging the surface just slightly.
Through the tinted glass, you could see Makoto sitting at his desk, his head bent over some papers, his long bangs falling across his face.
The office was small but cluttered — stacks of newspapers, filing cabinets, a bulletin board covered in pinned notes and photographs. The sign above the door read Newspapers Office in bold letters.
You slid open the glass doors, the frame rattling slightly in its track.
A small bell chimed overhead and Makoto's head snapped up.
His eyes lit up behind those fogged glasses. A slow, knowing smile spread across his face.
"Oh," he said, setting down his pen and folding his hands on the desk, "look at who has finally shown his face here."
"Yeah, yeah." You stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind you. "I'm here."
"Ah, I knew my charm was too irresistible for you." Makoto leaned back in his chair, his smile widening. "Although I have to say, you had me doubting. I almost wanted to put a juicy piece of meat just outside the door, but it seems Wren's dog has come here willingly — like a puppy!"
Your eye twitched. "…What?"
"Anyway!" Makoto clapped his hands together, the sound sharp and sudden. "Let's get started, shall we? Please, have a seat!"
You glanced at the chair across from his desk. "Alright.." You sat down, and to your surprise, the seat was comfortable despite its appearance. The cushion still had some spring to it.
"This is only a formality," Makoto said, pulling out a notebook and flipping to a fresh page. His pen hovered over the paper. "Please, your name and last name, if you may."
Makoto wrote it down quickly. Then he looked up at you, his eyes gleaming. "Now, the first question. What do you think about the rumors surrounding your situation?"
You shifted in your seat. "I think they're obnoxious. It's practically my reputation here." You paused, choosing your next words carefully. "I've gotten help for my behavior, and I want people to know I've truly changed."
Makoto tilted his head, his pen tapping against the notebook. "What do you feel about them?"
"Well, I just feel nothing but negative about them."
"I see, I see." He nodded, his expression almost sympathetic, though you knew better than to trust it. "That's understandable, yes. How about you tell me when those rumors started?"
"Uhm, ever since.. I began to act out over Wren?" You hated how uncertain your voice sounded, how the name still made your chest tighten.
Makoto hummed, scribbling something down. "Would you prefer if those rumors stopped, even though... wouldn't you say they can be quite convenient in certain situations?"
You frowned. "I'd prefer if they stopped. I don't think they'd ever be convenient in any situation. Rumors can ruin lives."
Makoto's pen paused. For just a moment, something flickered across his face — surprise, maybe, or respect. Then it was gone, replaced by that same knowing smile.
"I understand." He set his pen down and leaned back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. "Let's wrap it up for now. I would love to keep chatting with you, however my time is limited, and my schedule is filled to the brim." He reached for a stack of papers beside him, shuffling them absently. "I'll let you know if I need anything else from you."
You straightened in your seat. "Your side of the deal."
Makoto's smile widened. "Ah, don't tell me you really thought I forgot about it?" He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his chin resting on his folded hands. "Now, just come a little closer, 'sweety.'"
"Someone is asking questions." Makoto's voice dropped, losing its theatrical lilt. "Questions regarding you and your life. And oddly specific ones at that." He paused, letting the words sink in.
"I don't know what their deal is, nor will I tell you who they are. But just so you know..." His eyes met yours, sharp and serious. "Someone is looking out for you." He leaned back again, the seriousness melting away. "I'll be extra careful if I were you. But that's just my opinion. Do whatever you will with this information."
Your throat felt dry. "Well, okay?"
Makoto picked up his pen again, already turning back to his papers. "I hope I'll see you again soon. Contrary to what you might think, I quite enjoyed our talk." He glanced up at you from behind his glasses, a hint of something genuine in his expression. "You could say I had quite fun with it."
You stood up, your legs feeling unsteady. The bell chimed as you slid the door open, but you didn't look back. You just walked out into the hallway, your heart pounding, Makoto's words echoing in your head.
‘Someone is looking out for you.
“Someone is asking questions. Questions regarding you and your life. Oddly specific ones.”
Was someone out there to get you? Could it be Luka? He had the motive. He'd already grabbed you once. Who's to say he wouldn't do worse?
It definitely could be Luka.
Or was it Wren? The thought made your stomach turn. Wren. Wren, who had never seemed dangerous in the manga — not really, not until you started looking closer.
You slowly began to sweat even more, your palms clammy against the fabric of your pants. Your heart was picking up speed, that familiar flutter in your chest that signaled the beginning of something ugly.
‘Crap’, you thought, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. ‘I can't have another panic attack here!. Not in the middle of the hallway.’
You began to pick up your pace, your footsteps echoing against the floor
“Well’, you thought, your mind racing, ‘I did my part now. I hope Makoto doesn't stop by at my dorm for Isaac.’
The thought of Makoto sitting across from Isaac, asking him pointed questions, digging into his life the way he'd dug into yours — it made your blood run hot.
Isaac was already exhausted. Isaac was already drowning in paperwork and responsibilities. He didn't need some smug journalist adding to his burdens.
You reached the stairwell and took the steps two at a time, your hand sliding along the railing. The dorm wasn't far now. Just a few more turns, a few more hallways, and you'd be back.
Someone is looking out for you, Makoto had said.
Maybe it was Isaac. Maybe that's who Makoto had been talking about — Isaac.
Or maybe it was someone else entirely. Someone you hadn't even considered.
You shoved the thought aside and kept walking. The business card in your pocket crinkled with every step.
You'd given Makoto what he wanted — an interview, a few words he could twist and rearrange to fit whatever narrative he was building.
In return, you'd gotten a warning.
Whether it was worth it... you didn't know yet.
You reached your dorm door and paused, your hand hovering over the handle. Through the door, you could hear the faint sound of paper shuffling — Isaac, still working.
You took a deep breath, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.
Isaac looked up from his paperwork, "M/N? Where did you go?"
You forced a smile. "Just went for a walk. Needed some air."
Isaac studied your face for a moment, his gaze lingering on the sweat on your brow, the tension in your jaw. But he didn't push. He just nodded and turned back to his papers.
"The interview should be quick," he said. "Then we can go."
You stood there for a moment, watching him work, the lie already forming on your tongue.
Isaac didn't need to know any of that. Isaac needed to rest.
"Actually," you said, your voice carefully casual, "I don't think Makoto would be free for the interview with you."
Isaac's pen paused. He looked up at you, his grey eyes curious, a small furrow forming between his brows. "What do you mean?"
You leaned against the wall, crossing your arms to hide the way your hands were still trembling.
"On my way to my walk, I saw him.. interviewing someone else." The lie came out smoother than you expected, "It looked pretty involved. Considering his schedule is packed, he might not have time for another interview today."
Isaac blinked, processing this. His shoulders sank slightly — relief, maybe, or just exhaustion catching up with him. "I see," he said slowly. "He didn't mention any scheduling conflicts when we spoke."
You shrugged, pushing off from the wall and walking toward the couch. "Maybe it was last minute. You know how journalists are — they chase the story." You sat down on the opposite end of the couch, pulling your legs up beneath you. "So… when you're done with your paperwork, we can go!"
After a while, Isaac nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Okay," he said, turning back to his papers. "I just have a few more forms to review.."
"Take your time," you said, your voice soft. "I'm not going anywhere."
Isaac's pen scratched across the paper, and the room fell into comfortable silence. You leaned your head back against the couch cushions, staring at the ceiling, and let yourself breathe.
The lie sat heavy in your chest, but you didn't regret it. Isaac deserved one evening without stress.
And if Makoto showed up at your dorm anyway, well... you'd deal with that when it happened.
You closed your eyes and waited.
You slowly opened your eyes to see Isaac standing over you, his figure slightly blurred from sleep.
In his hands, he held the same bouquet of roses that had been sitting on the coffee table — the deep red petals slightly wilted, but somehow still beautiful in the fading light.
"I'm ready to go out," he said, his voice soft, almost hesitant. "Here is my surprise gift to you."
You rubbed your eyes, a sleepy smile spreading across your face as you took the bouquet from him. "Ah, wow! Thank you, Isaac. These are lovely!"
Isaac couldn't help but smile —a real smile that reached his eyes and softened the exhaustion etched into his features.
You slowly got up from the couch, careful not to crush the roses, and stretched your arms above your head. Your joints popped softly, it seems you'd fallen asleep sitting up. "Let's get going, shall we?"
"Soo," you said, tucking the bouquet under one arm and grabbing your jacket from the back of the couch, "I had this certain cafe in mind. It's not far from the campus. It has a strong 5-star reputation, and I'm hoping you'll like it."
You thought back to the manga panels you'd studied so intently, all those late nights doomscrolling memorizing the layout of the world you'd never expected to inhabit.
There were plenty of places to go outside the campus — cafes, bookstores, small parks — all conveniently close at once. It was like the perfect location to be in, designed for maximum convenience and minimum travel time.
Isaac nodded, reaching for his own jacket hanging by the door. "If you are referring to the Kat Cafe, I am quite familiar with the location."
"Ah. Yeah!" You grinned, slipping your arms into your jacket. "And you are?"
Isaac paused, his hand on the door handle. He looked back at you. "I tend to go out for a stroll sometimes," he said, "when things get too caught up in my head." His voice dropped, softer now. "I like to say the tranquility of nature eases me."
You watched him for a moment, "That sounds nice," you said quietly. "Maybe you can show me your favorite spots sometime."
Isaac's smile returned, small but genuine. "I would like that."
He pulled open the door, and the two of you stepped out into the hallway together.
You and Isaac continued to walk until you both reached the main college entrance.
Everything felt almost peaceful. Your conversation had been easy — It was mainly just Isaac asking about your classes and you asking about his student council duties, nothing else.
Then a sudden voice called out.
You closed your eyes, bracing yourself with a large, exhausted exhale that seemed to drain the air from your lungs.
Doesn't he have something better to do? You held back an eye roll — which you'd noticed was becoming a bad habit, all due to Takao and his endless ability to test your patience — and felt your shoulders tense.
You quickly grabbed Isaac on the arm, your fingers wrapping around his sleeve. "Let's go." You tried to swiftly run out before somebody could stop you.
Arms wrapped around you from behind — the touch made your skin crawl.
A head rested on your shoulder, cheek pressing against the curve of your neck, and you could feel the smile radiating off him without even having to look.
"M/NN," Wren murmured, his breath warm against your ear, "where ya heading?"
He seemed to get bolder with every interaction.
The first day, he'd just waved. Then he'd grabbed your hand. Then he'd shown up at your dorm with a basket of snacks, then at the library, then at the infirmary, then at the gym — which he became a manager of your volleyball team.
And now here he was, hovering over you, acting as if he had every right to touch you.
"Greetings, Wren." Isaac spoke from beside you, his voice was calm but you could feel the subtle tension in his arm beneath your fingers.
Wren lifted his head just enough to acknowledge him, his yellow eyes flicking to Isaac's face. "Hey." He gave him a short nod, then turned back to you.
"Wren." You weakly whispered back, the name tasting like poison in your mouth. You turned your head slightly, trying to put some distance between your face and his. "I'm just going out with Isaac."
Wren's eyes lit up, "Oh?" His smile widened, "I'd love to join in with you guys, if you don't mind!"
Isaac cut you off, he spoke to Wren with the same tone he probably used during student council meetings which felt pretty formal and professional, "We're actually doing a private hangout right now for just the two of us." His grey eyes met Wren's. "M/N can catch up with you another time."
The words hung in the air between the three of you.
Wren's smile flickered — just for a moment— before he smoothed it back into place.
Wren's arms loosened around you. He pulled back just enough to look at Isaac.
Then he smiled softly. "Oh.. uhm, alright. Another time then."
His gaze dropped to the bouquet of roses in your arms, nestled against your chest. His smile softened into something almost wistful. "Those look beautiful!" he said. "Are they yours?"
You forced a smile, "Yeah," you said, your voice coming out lighter than you felt. "Isaac gave them to me."
Wren hummed as his gaze traveled from the roses to Isaac, then back to you, lingering on the way your hand was still resting on Isaac's sleeve.
"That's... so nice," Wren said, the word stretching slightly, as if it cost him something to say it. "Isaac has good taste! So good, it’s amazing! I love that! Great!”
Isaac inclined his head, his expression unreadable. "Thank you, Wren."
The three of you stood there for a moment.
Wren's hands dropped to his sides. He was no longer touching you, but you could still feel the phantom warmth of his arms around your shoulders.
"Well," Wren said, stepping back, his smile settling into something more controlled. "I won't keep you two any longer. Have fun on your... “private hangout”."
He said the words lightly, but there was an edge beneath them, adding more emphasis to ‘private hangout’.
"We will," Isaac said with certainty.
Wren's eyes met yours one last time. "See you around, M/N."
Wren turned and walked away, his figure growing smaller as he headed back toward the campus dorms. You watched him go, your chest tight, your hand still clutching Isaac's sleeve.
Isaac didn't move. He just stood beside you patiently waiting.
After a long moment, you let out a breath. "Let's go," you said quietly.
You walked through the main entrance together, the campus gates closing behind you, ‘I need to set boundaries with Wren.”
After a few minutes of walking, Isaac spoke up.
"I may not pick up on most social cues," he said slowly, "but I could sense tension just now." He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a small, almost proud smile tugging at his lips. "Kudos to me."
You chuckled, "It's good that you're picking up on a few things," you said, bumping your shoulder lightly against his. "Bravo."
You let go of Isaac's arm, your fingers sliding off the fabric of his sleeve. "Thanks for that," you added, quieter this time.
Isaac shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "I don't think I need to be thanked," he said. "I understand your need to distance yourself from Wren." He paused, his steps slowing for just a moment. "Although," he continued, his voice thoughtful, "I shouldn't have said 'next time.'" His jaw tightened. "It would only bring his hopes up."
You looked at him — Isaac, who had been so awkward and formal when you first met him, was learning. He was beginning to adapt.
And he was doing it for you.
"You're getting good at this," you said softly.
Isaac glanced at you, his grey eyes questioning.
"The whole social cues thing, I mean!" you clarified. "You're getting good at it."
He was quiet for a moment, processing.
Then he nodded, a small, satisfied smile returning to his face. "I have a good teacher."
You didn't know what to say to that, so you just kept walking, the roses still clutched in your hand.
"Here we are," Isaac slowly muttered.
You stared at the building right in front of you. Kat Cafe.
Through the windows, you could see cozy booths, small round tables, and a long counter lined with pastries behind glass.
The scent of coffee and fresh bread drifted out through the open door, it was alluring almost.
You trailed after Isaac, who opened the door for you with a slight bow. You gave him a smile as you entered, and he followed after you.
Inside, the cafe was even cozier than it had appeared from the street.
"What are ya planning on ordering?" you asked, glancing at the menu board behind the counter. The options ranged from simple coffee to lattes to luxurious pastries.
Isaac hummed, his grey eyes scanning the menu with thoughtful consideration. "I'm not particularly picky," he said. "I'd prefer something mild and small portioned." He paused, then added, "Nothing too sweet."
"Honestly, I eat anything!" You walked over to a nearby two-seat table nestled against the window, the perfect spot for people-watching.
Isaac followed, pulling out your chair for you before settling into his own across the table.
"I suppose that only makes it better for us to be roommates," he said, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I cook, and you eat."
You laughed, leaning back in your chair. "A perfect match for dormmates, don't you think?"
Isaac's smile widened. "I do think that," he said softly. "Yes."
A waitress made her way toward your table, a small tablet clutched in her hands.
"Good evening!" she said, her voice bright and welcoming. "My name is Kat, and I will be your waitress for today. What can I get you two?" She turned to Isaac with a smile. "Starting with you?"
"Good evening," Isaac said, his posture straightening slightly. "I would like to see the Minion special menu."
You blinked in surprise, your head tilting. ‘There's a Minion special?’
"Certainly, sir." The waitress reached across the table and flipped the menu book to a certain page, revealing a spread of yellow-themed items. "Here are our Minion specials for today," she explained, pointing to each item as she spoke. "There is also a discount for two people!" Her eyes darted between you and Isaac, her smile widening.
Isaac nodded as he scanned the menu, his grey eyes moving slowly across the options.
His expression was concentrated. "I would like a latte with 3D Minion foam art," he said, "alongside the Minion-themed cheesecake, please." He looked away from your eyes, almost shy, his gaze dropping to the tablecloth.
The waitress typed into her tablet, unfazed. "Certainly! And how about you?" She turned to you.
"Uh, I'd... like the same as well." You smiled at her, then turned to look at Isaac, your eyebrow raised.
The waitress nodded, tapping a few more times on her screen. "Alright, please wait patiently until your table number is called out! You may pick your orders from the counter. Thank you so much for coming here!"
You nodded in response, and the waitress bustled away to attend to another table.
You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms. "Huh! I didn't know there was a Minions special. No wonder you picked this spot."
Isaac's fingers fidgeted with the edge of the menu, a rare tell. "You would think it's quite silly and childish, right?"
"Nono!" You shook your head, your voice earnest. "I was just surprised to see that your infatuation with Minions runs deeper than I thought." You paused, a smile tugging at your lips. "It's cute, though."
Isaac's grey eyes met yours. "Cute..?" He said the word like it was foreign. His brow furrowed slightly, and confusion flickered across his face.
You felt your cheeks warm. "Yeah, you know," you said, waving your hand vaguely, "adorbs. Endearing. It's nice that you have things you're genuinely excited about! Shows that there’s more to you than a student council president!”
Isaac was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly, a small smile returning to his lips. "I see," he said. "Then I suppose I am... cute."
You snorted, covering your mouth with your hand. "Don't let it go to your head."
"I wouldn't dream of it."
"How is college settling for you so far?" Isaac asked.
"Ah, it's going… okay." You shrugged, your fingers tracing the edge of the table. "I mean, I'm having trouble settling in so far, but I've met a few cool people." You looked up at him, a small smile forming. "Like you!"
Isaac's expression softened. He nodded slowly, as if filing away your words in that careful, methodical mind of his. "If we are roommates," he said, "I wouldn't want us to be foes."
"Yeah, that wouldn't end so well." You chuckled.
The memory of your first interaction flashed through your mind.
"Aside from Luka and Wren," you continued, your voice dropping slightly, "everything is overall good. College is a big step for me." You paused, "Didn't think I would make it this far."
Isaac was quiet for a moment. When you looked up, he was watching you with intensely.
"You made it," he said simply. "And you're not alone."
"I know," you said softly. "Thanks to you."
Isaac's lips curved into that small smile — "You don't need to thank me, M/N. That's what roommates do."
The waitress called out a table number in the distance, and the moment shifted. You both turned toward the counter, where two yellow-adorned trays were waiting.
"I think that's us," you said, pushing back your chair.
Isaac stood as well, falling into step beside you as you walked to the counter. His shoulder brushed yours, and you didn't move away.
The Minion specials were ridiculous — the huge minion foam art were grinning up at you, cheesecakes decorated with googly eyes and blue syrup drizzles.
You caught Isaac's eye as you picked up your tray, and for a moment, you both just stood there, holding your minion themed desserts.
"These are insane," you said.
Isaac looked down at his plate, then back at you. "Yes," he agreed. "But they make me happy."
you chuckled as you carried your tray back to your table, with Isaac following behind.
Suddenly, Makoto's voice approached your table.
"Oh my, look at that," he drawled, appearing at the edge of your table as if summoned by some malevolent force.
He tilted his head, his fogged glasses catching the light, and his thin lips curled into a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "If those aren't my two favorite interviewees. What a coincidence it is for us to meet here. We could say it was fate, don't you think?"
You nearly choked on your latte. "What the— Makoto? Are you following me around?"
Makoto pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense, his long bangs swaying with the movement. "Oh, goodness no! This is simply a cafe I frequent from time to time." He adjusted his glasses, the metal glinting. "If you had read yesterday's issue of the campus paper, then you would know that. But apparently reading from paper is too much for some people."
"Uh, sure?" You exchanged a glance with Isaac, whose expression had gone carefully neutral. His hand was resting on the table, fingers slightly curled, as if ready to intervene if necessary.
Makoto's gaze flicked between the two of you, taking in the Minion-themed foods. Something flickered across his face — amusement.
"Ah, I wouldn't want to disturb you two further," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "Seeing your... delightful... meal." He lingered on the word delightful, drawing it out like he was savoring a private joke. "So I'll quickly move along and sit at another table far from your eyes. Never far from your minds, though."
"Okay.." You watched him take a step back, hoping he'd actually leave.
He paused. "And before I forget, let me just tell you another little thing." He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur.
"There has been a switcheroo, it seems. It's not every day you see Wren Upton following M/N L/N around like a jealous ex." His eyes glittered behind his glasses. "I'll keep an eye on him for you two. And perhaps keep him in check if things go south. Consider it a thanks for our early interview, sweetie."
He gave a theatrical little bow and sauntered away, sliding into a table in the corner with his back to you — though you could have sworn you still felt his attention prickling at the back of your neck.
Isaac let out a slow breath. “He makes quite an entrance.”
"That’s way too nice," you muttered, staring at Makoto's silhouette. "He's insufferable."
Isaac studied your face. "You've interviewed with him before?"
You nodded, not meeting his eyes. "Earlier today. Before we left." You paused, then added, "He's the one I lied about. Y’know the person he was interviewing?" Your voice dropped. "It was me."
Isaac was quiet for a moment, processing. Then he reached across the table and rested his hand on yours, "You don't have to explain," he said softly. "Not if you're not ready."
You looked at his hand on yours, at the way his thumb traced a slow circle on your knuckles. The tension in your chest eased a little bit.
Isaac nodded, and the two of you sat there quietly.
"M/N," Isaac said after a while.
You looked at him, pulled from your thoughts about Makoto's lingering presence in the corner. "Yeah?"
His fingers were wrapped around his mug now. His jaw was tight, his brow furrowed deeper than usual, like he was working up the courage to say something he'd been holding back for longer than just tonight.
"Last night," he said slowly, "I found myself deep in thought about the question you asked me." He paused, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. "What to do if someone isn't what they seem." Another pause, longer this time. Then he lifted his gaze and met yours. "Were you talking about me?"
"I—" you started, then stopped. Your mouth felt dry. You looked down at your hands, at the way your fingers were picking at a loose thread on your sleeve.
“Isaac isn't who you think he is.”
Takao's words echoed in your head, “He managed to cover up his past quite well, didn't he?”
"I don't know," you said finally, your voice coming out smaller than you intended. You stared at the Minion foam art on your latte, "I had.. a few people in mind."
Isaac didn't flinch. He just nodded slowly, his expression unchanged, like he'd been expecting this.
The silence returned, heavier than ever now.
Isaac set down his mug and leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the table, his hands clasped together. His grey eyes were earnest, almost desperate in a way you'd never seen before.
"I'm not going to lie to you, M/N," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "There are things about my past that I'm not proud of. Things I've done that I can't take back." He paused, his jaw tightening, his fingers interlacing so tightly his knuckles went pale. "But I'm not that person anymore. And I would never — never — do anything to hurt you."
You looked at him.. Isaac’s shoulders were tense like he was bracing for rejection.
“Isaac isn't who you think he is.”
Maybe there were things in his past — dark things, violent things, things that would make you see him differently.
But the man sitting across from you now, he felt so safe.
"Thank you for understanding," Isaac said quietly, his hands were now on yours again. His thumb still tracing slow circles on the back of your hand.
"No, of course." You shook your head, squeezing his fingers gently.
"I mean, considering 'my' past, I bet it's way worse than whatever you have done before." You let out a humorless laugh. "Not trying to compare, by the way. Just saying." You paused, looking down at your joined hands on the table.
"I'd never hurt you or any of my loved ones, either. And whatever it is about your past…" You looked up at him, meeting those tired grey eyes. "Please don't feel obligated to answer all my questions. Yeah?"
Isaac slowly nodded, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. His fingers tightened around yours slightly.
"My past actions still haunt me to this day," you continued, your voice dropping. "Hell, even people like Makoto are trying to snoop around. Trying to dig up whatever dirt they can find." You glanced toward the corner where Makoto sat, his back to you, his pen still moving across his notebook. "It's like they just see me as a juicy gossip topic. Not an individual with feelings and thoughts of their own. I suppose they see me as a dog more than a human being."
You turned back to Isaac, your chest tight. "So it's good that you've changed yourself. To be completely unrecognizable from whoever you used to be." You paused, swallowing hard. "I wish the same for me as well."
Isaac was quiet for a long moment.
"You will change," Isaac said finally, his voice low but certain. "You already have."
"I know so." He squeezed your hand. "I've seen it."
You didn't know if you believed him — not completely— but sitting here, holding his hand, it was easier to pretend.
"Thanks, Isaac," you whispered.
He smiled, "You’re welcome, M/N.”
"If you're not busy later on," you said, the words tumbling out before you could second-guess yourself, "could we watch Despicable Me? Together?"
Isaac blinked at you, his grey eyes widening. His fingers, still intertwined with yours, went still.
"Really..?" His voice was soft, almost hesitant. "Why would you want to watch it?"
"Well." You shrugged, feeling suddenly self-conscious under the weight of his gaze. "I figured you liked Minions. And I'm pretty sure Despicable Me has Minions in it, so… why not watch it together?" You looked down at your joined hands, then back up at him. "So I can understand the things you like. As long as I'm not taking up your time as much as I already am."
"You're not," he said finally. "You’re not taking up my time." He paused, his thumb resuming its slow circles on your knuckles. "I enjoy spending time with you, M/N. Even when we're just sitting in silence."
Your chest tightened. "Really?"
He looked down at your hands, then back at your face, a small, almost shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I would like to watch Despicable Me with you. I haven't seen it in a while."
"Yeah?" You couldn't help the grin that spread across your face. "Perfect. We can watch it tonight after we get back!”
Isaac nodded. "Tonight, then."
You sat there for a moment longer, hands still clasped,
In the corner, Makoto's pen had finally stopped moving. He was watching you both, his expression unreadable behind those fogged glasses. But for once, you didn't care.
You had a movie to look forward to. And a friend to watch it with.
Wren hummed as he continued to brush his hair in front of the vanity, the soft bristles gliding through his copper-brown strands.
The mirror reflected his own face back at him — He examined himself with the same careful attention he gave everything else in his life, turning his head slightly, checking for imperfections.
Behind him, Luka was draped across Wren's bed like a man possessed.
His tall frame was curled around one of Wren's pillows, his face buried in the fabric, his breath coming in shaky, uneven pulls. Luka held it like it was something sacred.
"Wren," Luka bit his lip, his voice muffled against the pillow, "thank you… so, so much for inviting me over to your dorm." He pulled the pillow closer, inhaling deeply, his dark green eyes fluttering shut. "It drives me crazy to be lying on your bed. I feel so, so lucky to just be in your presence."
Wren hummed, setting down his brush and picking up a small bottle of cologne. He spritzed it on his wrists, then his neck, watching his reflection with detached satisfaction.
“I'm glad," he said, his voice light, almost singsong. "You should be."
Luka's grip on the pillow tightened. "I- I can't help it…" He sat up slightly, his dark hair falling across his face, his cheeks flushed a deep, feverish pink. "Everything about you drives me to the edge. Your scent." He breathed in again, shuddering. "Your eyes. Your soft lips." His gaze dropped to Wren's mouth, hungry and reverent. "Your beautiful smile. Your luscious hair… hm~"
He let out a small, breathy sound — a moan — and pressed his face back into the pillow, as if the very act of describing Wren aloud was too much for him to bear.
Wren sighed, his eyes drifting from his own reflection to meet Luka's in the mirror. His expression was calm, almost bored, "Thank you~" he said, drawing out the word. "You know I don't normally do this."
Luka nodded frantically, his dark green eyes wide and worshipful. "I love you, Wren," he breathed, the words tumbling out like a confession. "You mean so, so much to me. Every step you take makes me weak in my legs." He clutched the pillow to his chest, his knuckles white. "I just can't help but worship the very ground you walk on."
Wren smiled, "Awe, thank you," he said, turning back to his reflection. He ran his fingers through his hair, arranging the strands just so, tilting his head to catch the light. "What else?"
Luka's breath hitched, his fingers curling into the fabric of the pillowcase. He pressed his face deeper into the soft cotton, inhaling slowly, as if the scent alone could sustain him.
His dark green eyes fluttered closed, and a low, shaky sigh escaped his lips.
"Everything," he murmured, his voice muffled by the pillow. "Every little thing you do drives me insane. The way you walk. The way you talk. The way you laugh at your own jokes even when no one else is laughing." He lifted his head just enough to look at Wren's reflection in the vanity mirror, his gaze hungry and adoring. "The way you flip your hair. The way you bite your lip."
Wren's brush paused mid-stroke. He tilted his head, examining his reflection from a different angle, then continued brushing. His expression was placid, but there was a faint curve to his lips — the ghost of a smile, self-satisfied.
"The way you say my name," Luka continued, his voice growing more fervent. He sat up on the bed, clutching the pillow to his chest like a lifeline. "The way it sounds when it leaves your lips — soft and sweet, like honey. I replay it in my head at night. Over and over and over and over and over. I can't sleep without hearing it."
Wren set down his brush and turned on the vanity stool, facing Luka fully. His yellow eyes swept over the other boy — "You're very devoted, Lukie~ I love that.” he observed, tilting his head.
"I would die for you," Luka said, the words tumbling out without hesitation. "I would kill for you. I would burn this entire campus to the ground if you asked me to."
Wren's smile widened, just a fraction. "I know," he said softly. "That's why I keep you around."
Luka's breath caught. His eyes glistened — not with tears, exactly, but with something close. Something raw and feverish and completely unhinged.
"Thank you," he whispered. "Thank you for seeing me. For choosing me. For letting me be the one to worship you."
Wren stood up from the vanity and walked toward the bed. He stopped in front of Luka, looking down at him with those bright, unreadable eyes.
"Worship me, then," he said, his voice low. "Show me how grateful you are."
Luka shuddered. He lowered his head, pressing his forehead to the mattress, his lips brushing against Wren's shoes.
"Thank you," he breathed. "Thank you, thank you, thank you—"
Wren watched him for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he reached down and ran his fingers through Luka's hair, slow and almost gentle.
Luka trembled beneath his touch, utterly undone.
"So," Wren whispered. His fingers were still tangled in Luka's hair, stroking slowly like he was petting a cat. His yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light, fixed on the top of Luka's bowed head. "I heard you did something to M/N today."
Luka's body went rigid beneath his touch. His forehead was still pressed to the mattress, his lips frozen against the toe of Wren's shoe.
"You love me, right?" Wren continued, his voice soft and tender. His fingers curled slightly, tugging at a strand of Luka's dark hair. "You'd tell me everything, wouldn't you?" He paused, letting the words sink in. "Would you? Tell me what you did."
Luka's breath shuddered out of him. He lifted his head just enough to look up at Wren, his dark green eyes wide and glistening, his lips parted. There was fear there — not of Wren, but of disappointing him. Of losing his favor.
"I... I didn't mean to—" Luka's voice cracked. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "I just wanted him to stay away from you. He said he wasn't interested anymore, but I didn't believe him. I thought... I thought he was lying."
Wren's expression didn't change. His fingers continued their slow, rhythmic stroking. "What did you do, Luka?"
Luka's eyes dropped to the floor. His hands were shaking. "I grabbed him. By the collar." His voice was barely a whisper. "I didn't hit him or hurt him. I just... I wanted to scare him. To make him understand that you're mine and I’m yours.”
Wren was quiet for a long moment. The only sound in the room was Luka's ragged breathing.
"Mine," Wren repeated, tasting the word. His fingers stilled in Luka's hair. "You think he's a threat to you?"
Luka nodded frantically, his whole body trembling. "He's always been there. Always watching you. Following you. And now he says he's not interested, but I don't believe him. People don't just change like that, Wren. They don't just stop.”
Wren withdrew his hand from Luka's hair and stepped back. Luka's head lifted, his eyes following Wren's movements like a lost puppy tracking its owner.
"I don't like it," Wren said, his voice flat. "Don’t you ever do that again, you hear me?"
Luka's heart lurched. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Wren. I'll never—"
"You'll never do it again," Wren finished for him, his voice cold. "Because if you do, I won't be able to protect you. Do you understand? I’ll never talk to you again and I’ll make sure you’ll never see me.”
Luka nodded, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. "Yes. Yes, I understand. Thank you. Thank you for forgiving me."
Wren's expression softened just slightly. He reached down and cupped Luka's chin, tilting his face up. "I'm not forgiving you, Lukie~" he said softly. "I'm giving you a chance to earn my forgiveness. There's a difference."
Luka's breath caught. "I'll earn it," he said, his voice fierce. "I'll do anything. Anything you ask."
Wren smiled — that perfect, soft, beautiful smile. "I know you will," he said.
He released Luka's chin and turned back to the vanity, picking up his brush again. In the mirror, his reflection gazed back at him.
Luka stayed on the floor, kneeling by the bed, watching Wren with adoring, desperate eyes.
