----
The light in Arin's apartment had begun to shift.
Not because of the old flickering bulb in the corner or the broken blinds that always let in too much sun—but because Lucien had brought something else into that space.
Laughter. Warmth. Hope.
And now he didn't want to leave.
Lucien stirred that morning, tangled in the blanket that barely fit his long body. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his messy hair before padding out of the room to find Arin, who was standing in the tiny kitchen, sipping coffee, one headphone in.
Lucien leaned against the wall, yawning. "Hey."
Arin looked up briefly, nodding.
Lucien rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. "Can I... stay? I mean, like, officially?"
Arin tilted his head.
Lucien added quickly, "You don't have to answer now. Just... I like it here. With you."
Arin sipped his coffee again, then shrugged. "You already do."
Lucien beamed.
That was it. That was the permission he needed.
He practically tackled Arin from behind, wrapping his arms around his waist, chin on his shoulder. "Thanks, baby."
Arin froze. "Don't call me baby."
Lucien only laughed. "Okay, my little tiger."
---
Over the next few days, Lucien devoted himself to Arin like a full-time puppy.
He followed Arin around, fetched things without being asked, massaged his legs after work, and cooked his favorite mild curry without too much spice because Arin was picky.
Arin began to soften.
He smiled more. He let Lucien feed him soup and didn't argue when Lucien crawled into bed next to him at night.
There were moments—sneaky touches in the hallway, fingers brushing over knuckles, brief but burning eye contact across the room.
One evening, Lucien spotted faint white scars near Arin's wrist as he handed over a towel. His fingers reached without thinking, brushing the lines.
Arin didn't pull away.
Lucien whispered, "I'm not going anywhere."
Arin's gaze lingered on him. For once, there were no biting comebacks. Just silence. Soft and warm.
---
Then came Sunday.
Arin was unusually quiet that morning, tugging on his oversized cardigan and ruffling his hair until it stood on end.
Lucien sat on the couch, lazily flipping through channels. "You okay?"
Arin avoided his eyes. "Get dressed."
Lucien blinked. "Huh?"
"We have a date. Movie. And dinner. I planned it."
Lucien shot up so fast he tripped on the rug. "YOU WHAT?"
Arin rolled his eyes. "Stop acting like a Labrador."
Lucien grinned wide, eyes sparkling. "You planned a date for me? Me? The guy you said was annoying and clingy?"
Arin crossed his arms. "Get ready before I cancel it."
Lucien saluted and rushed to change.
---
The city was golden with dusk when they walked side by side. Lucien wore a dark button-up shirt with sleeves rolled to his elbows, his muscles peeking as he tugged Arin by the hand.
Arin was luminous in cream knit and ripped jeans, his soft lips glossed, hair tousled perfectly. People stared. But he ignored them.
Lucien noticed everything.
Including the way Arin's hand squeezed his a little tighter every time someone looked too long.
Outside the cinema, just as Arin was tugging Lucien toward the ticket booth, two girls stopped them.
"Hey," one said to Lucien, trailing her fingers down his sleeve. "You alone?"
Lucien blinked. "What?"
The other one laughed. "You're tall. Got plans after this?"
Lucien opened his mouth to answer—
But didn't get the chance.
Splash!
A cold glass of water hit the flirty girl square in the face.
Both girls gasped.
Arin stood with an empty cup, his expression absolutely deadpan. "Back. Off."
The girl sputtered. "Are you insane?!"
Arin narrowed his eyes. "If you're desperate, there are brothels."
Lucien tried to grab his arm. "Babe, let's go."
Arin jerked away. "Don't touch me while I'm dealing with flies."
Lucien tried not to laugh. "Are you seriously jealous right now?"
The other girl snapped, "He deserves someone pretty. Someone like me."
Arin turned to Lucien. "Who's prettier?"
Lucien hesitated—only for a second.
Then he leaned close and said, "You are. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen."
Arin's eyes gleamed with victory.
Then he smirked. "Of course. Look at this face. My skin? Flawless. Lips? Naturally rosy."
Lucien chuckled. "My pretty little tiger."
Arin turned crimson. "Shut up."
People around them were starting to stare.
Lucien stepped behind Arin, wrapped his arms around his waist, and whispered, "Enough, angel. We're attracting paparazzi."
Then he tilted Arin's chin up and kissed his cheek. Once. Then again.
Then his forehead.
Arin hissed, "I told you not to kiss me in public."
Lucien smiled. "I didn't kiss your lips. I don't have access yet."
Arin huffed. "Idiot."
He stomped toward the cinema, flustered.
Lucien followed behind like a devoted husband.
---
But neither of them noticed the man standing across the street.
He leaned against a pole, half-hidden by shadow.
A cigarette glowed between his fingers.
His eyes tracked Lucien.
Unblinking.
Unsmiling.
Waiting.
---