Chapter Text
Fourth always knew who was in the room without looking.
Phuwin had been a constant since they were both small enough to nap on mats with cartoon blankets. Back then, Phuwin was the kid tugging him toward the swings, eyes bright, cheeks sticky from juice. Satang had been there too—quietly slipping him crayons when his broke, pushing him upright when he slouched over worksheets. Even now, Satang’s arrival was the soft thud of a notebook hitting the table, followed by the flat of his palm pressing down on Fourth’s hair to “fix” it, only to make it worse. Phuwin was still the sharp tug on his hoodie drawstring, the quick jostle of a shoulder as he slid into the seat beside him.
Pond had joined years later, when Phuwin started dating him. Fourth remembered that first lunch—Pond sitting a little too neatly, knees drawn in under the table—but by the end of the week, his laugh was loud enough to shake the table. Now, Pond always announced himself with weight—dropping onto the couch hard enough to make Fourth bounce, an arm looping around his shoulders like it belonged there.
Mark came with Pond, the “best friend deal,” as Pond put it. Fourth hadn’t expected much, but Mark’s restless energy was impossible to ignore—drumming on his knee while waiting for food, leaning all his weight into him just to grab something off the coffee table, sprawling until their thighs pressed together like it was no big deal.
Gemini’s arrival was blurrier in Fourth’s mind. One day, Phuwin had simply shown up with someone who looked uncannily like him—same tilt of the head, same sly grin. Fourth remembered shaking his hand, the warmth of Gemini’s palm lingering just long enough to feel deliberate. Now, Gemini was bold, his palm grazing Fourth’s back when slipping past, or standing so near in a crowd their sleeves stayed hooked together.
They’d never been neat about their space. Someone’s legs were always thrown across someone else’s lap. Backpacks became pillows. Pond’s feet ended up wedged under Fourth’s thigh for warmth. Mark absentmindedly braided Phuwin’s hair while half-asleep. Satang used Fourth’s shoulder as a writing surface without asking. And Gemini—Gemini always leaned in when he laughed, forehead bumping Fourth’s temple, voice low enough to feel in his skin.
A room full of half-finished sentences and the soft scrape of pens, the occasional hand reaching over to steal a snack without breaking concentration. Fourth would sometimes look up from his notes to see them—Phuwin slouched against Pond’s side, Mark and Satang arguing over nothing, Gemini staring into space with his fingers idly playing with the cuff of Fourth’s sleeve—and feel something settle deep in his chest.
It was elbows in ribs, socks on the wrong feet, stolen hoodies, bruises from play fights, and too many people in too small a bed after a night out. But it was warm. Constant. The kind of closeness that made you forget where you ended and they began.
And Fourth knew—this was what home really felt like.
Fourth glanced at the card in his hand—a nine of hearts. He caught Gemini’s eyes just for a moment.
Mark’s shuffle faltered as he nudged Fourth’s knee again, smirking. “You gonna play or just stare?”
Fourth smiled and laid the card down, careful not to let his fingers brush Gemini’s knee too much, though the warmth there was impossible to ignore.
The living room was a chaos of colors—not just from the messy scatter of Uno cards across the coffee table, but from the six personalities crowded around it.
Pond was slouched cross-legged on the floor, grinning like a fox who’d just stolen the henhouse. “Draw four,” he announced with a flourish, slapping the card down like it was a royal decree.
Phuwin groaned, leaning back dramatically against the couch. “Why do you always pick on me?” he whined, but still reached for the deck, pulling cards like a man resigning himself to fate.
“Because you’re too easy to rattle,” Mark said, smirking from his seat beside him. He tapped the edge of his cards against his knee in a neat little stack, every inch the picture of smug confidence.
“Bold talk for someone with three reverses in his hand,” Satang teased, peeking over with all the subtlety of a cat watching a goldfish. Mark shot him a look, but didn’t deny it.
Across from Pond, Fourth sat quietly, his lips twitching in that way that meant trouble was brewing. Gemini, seated beside him, noticed first. “Don’t you dare,” Gemini warned, narrowing his eyes.
Fourth’s smile broke wide as he laid down a skip card. “Gemini… skip.”
The table erupted in laughter. Gemini leaned forward, clutching at his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “You betray me like this? After everything?”
“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Fourth said, though the smugness in his voice made it worse.
Pond shuffled in closer to the table. “My turn again, right? Guess what—draw two, Phuwin.”
Phuwin dropped his head onto the table with a thud. “This game is rigged.”
Mark snorted. “You’re just bad at it.”
Satang eyed his hand like a gambler on the last roll of the dice. “Alright,” he said slowly, placing down a wild card. “The color is… blue.”
Pond groaned. “Why blue? I don’t have blue.”
Mark leaned back against the couch, flipping through his hand with theatrical flair. “You know what I have?” he said. “I have trauma from the last three rounds.” He slapped down a +2 card like it was a mic drop. “Fourth, enjoy.”
Fourth glanced at the card, then up at Mark with mock calm. “You realize this means war.”
“Oh, honey,” Mark said with a grin, “you declared war when you decided to exist in my game space.”
Phuwin was still busy with his Everest of cards. “I feel like I’m just here to suffer.”
“You are,” Mark said without missing a beat. “You’re the sacrifice to keep the rest of us alive.”
Gemini was wheezing with laughter now, nearly spilling his hand. “Phuwin’s not even playing anymore—he’s just collecting cards at this point.”
Fourth pulled two cards from the deck, eyeing Mark like a sniper calculating the shot. “Alright… your turn, Mark. Let’s see you laugh after this.”
Mark looked down at his cards, then up at Fourth. A wicked glint appeared in his eyes. Without breaking eye contact, he slapped down a skip, a reverse, and another skip in quick succession.
“That’s right,” he said, leaning forward. “We’re speedrunning your suffering.”
The table erupted into noise—Pond cackling so hard he had to clutch his stomach, Satang trying to figure out how the order of play had even gotten this messed up, and Phuwin dramatically fanning himself with his twenty-plus cards.
“Uno,” Mark added casually, just to twist the knife.
The stack of empty beer bottles on the coffee table was starting to rival Phuwin’s pile of cards. Somewhere between the third round and the fourth drink, the game had turned from competitive to sloppy, and the laughter came easier—louder, warmer.
Mark was halfway through telling some absurd story about accidentally joining a Zumba class when Pond tried to play a red 7 on a green skip.
“That’s not how this works!” Phuwin cried, pointing at the card with exaggerated seriousness. His words slurred slightly, but his outrage was genuine.
Pond squinted at the card, then at the discard pile. “It’s… festive,” he argued weakly.
Gemini had stopped caring about the rules three turns ago. He was leaning into Fourth’s side now, his head resting lazily on his shoulder. “You’re warm,” he mumbled, voice muffled against Fourth’s shirt.
Fourth glanced down, lips twitching. “You’re drunk.”
“Not that drunk,” Gemini said, but his hand had somehow ended up on Fourth’s thigh under the table. Mark, noticing, raised his eyebrows like he’d just spotted an episode unfolding live.
“Gem, are you playing Uno or are you just… playing?” Mark teased, grinning into his beer.
Gemini didn’t move away—if anything, he leaned in more, his knee bumping Fourth’s. “Maybe both,” he said with a lazy smile.
Pond snorted into his drink. Satang was trying not to laugh, but the smirk on his face gave him away.
Fourth rolled his eyes, though the faint pink on his cheeks betrayed him. “It’s your turn, Mark.”
Mark slapped down a +4 like it was divine justice. “And it’s your problem now, lover boy.”
Fourth tried to focus on the cards in his hand, but every time Gemini reached over him for a soda, their fingers brushed, warm and lingering just a moment too long. The faint scent of fresh linen mixed with something woody wrapped around Fourth like a quiet invitation.
At one point, Gemini leaned back against the cushions, sinking into the softness like he belonged there. Without really thinking, Fourth shifted closer, the movement small but deliberate. Their legs brushed beneath the faded blanket draped over the couch, the rough denim of Gemini’s jeans scraping softly against Fourth’s own. The heat from Gemini’s thigh seeped through the fabric, warm and grounding, stirring something inside Fourth that was equal parts comfort and something sharper, more electric.
Gemini’s hand appeared, resting lightly on Fourth’s knee. Fourth’s fingers twitched with a nervous excitement before finally reaching out, tracing the outline of Gemini’s hand with slow, careful strokes — a silent answer to that quiet invitation.
Fourth didn’t really know how they’d gotten here—how one evening, without quite realizing it, he had somehow ended up in Gemini’s bed. It wasn’t like he planned it. The night had swallowed them whole. The air was thick with the sharp sting of cheap whiskey and the heavy warmth radiating from their bodies, mingling with the faint, intoxicating scent of Gemini’s cologne. Shadows pooled in the corners of the dim room, bathed in the amber glow of a single lamp.
Gemini’s laugh was low, rough, like gravel sliding from deep in his chest. Fourth caught the slow slide of his shirt down one shoulder, the smooth stretch of skin and the sharp line of his collarbone glowing in the lamplight. His eyes met Fourth’s, dark and steady—less invitation, more certainty—holding him in place.
One moment they were sitting side by side on the couch, the rough weave of the cushions digging into Fourth’s ribs, the scent of worn denim and cedar mingling in the air. The next, their knees were colliding, fingers tangling, and Gemini’s mouth crashing onto his. The heat was sudden, fierce—teeth grazing, lips pressing hard enough to draw out a sound Fourth didn’t know he had. Gemini’s hands clawed into his shirt, pulling him forward until their breaths tangled, shuddering between frantic kisses. Fabric slipped away in quick, things got hot. When the night was done—Fourth was undone, utterly fucked stupid, lost in the messy, beautiful chaos of that night.
That night scorched itself into Fourth’s memory, the desperate heat still pulsing beneath his skin, tightening his stomach and quickening his heartbeat with every recall.
Since that night, Fourth hadn’t been able to think straight. He told himself it was a one-time thing. It had to be. They were healthy boys, after all—normal, curious, prone to mistakes. Surely it was just a fleeting moment, nothing more than a brief lapse in the usual order of things. A fire sparked and burned out before it could catch.
But Gemini didn’t seem willing to let it be just once. He’d corner Fourth in hallways with that sly grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, eyes dark and bright with something unsaid. In the quiet corners of crowded rooms, Gemini’s hand would brush against Fourth’s—light, deliberate—sending a spark racing up his arm, a pulse that lingered long after the contact ended. Slowly, inevitably, they would end up tangled in each other again—arms locked tight, legs weaving together beneath the dim glow of streetlights, breaths mingling in the heavy, electric dark.
He remembered the heat of Gemini’s hands gripping his hips, the way his mouth devoured Fourth’s with desperate hunger, swallowing every breath and thought. The press of bodies, tight and unrelenting, the sharp rhythm that pushed Fourth past everything he knew—past reason, past control—until his mind hazed over, pure fire and want.
He’d been fucked stupid.
The memory still curled in his stomach, a wild, burning ache that lingered long after the world came back into focus. Every gasp, every bite of Gemini’s lips, every frantic thrust—it was seared into him, impossible to forget.
Each time, the line between friendship and something more blurred a little further. The warmth between them was skin deep—it settled into Fourth’s chest like a knot of fire and confusion, something sharp and alive that refused to fade. Sometimes, when Gemini laughed close enough that Fourth could feel the vibration ripple through his skin, it felt like the whole world tilted just slightly off its axis—unsteady and thrilling all at once.
Now, Fourth had lost count of how many times they’d slipped into this tango. Nights stretched thin with whispered conversations and the soft scrape of Gemini’s fingers tracing patterns on his arm, dawn creeping in slow and golden. Mornings came wrapped in the gentle press of Gemini’s hand against his back, the faint scent of cedar and fresh linen lingering like a promise he couldn’t quite put into words.
Mark slammed down a Skip card with a satisfying smack snapping hi, the sharp sound echoing through the room. “Boom! Pond, you’re benched. Try not to cry.”
Pond shot him a glare, knees tucked neatly beneath the table as usual, the smooth fabric of his jeans cool against his skin. “Your luck’s faker than Phuwin’s ‘strategy’—which is zero.”
Phuwin tugged sharply on Fourth’s hoodie drawstring, the rough cotton catching under his fingers, grinning wide. “Hey, Fourth, stop spacing out!”
Fourth groaned, but he reached for the deck anyway, fingers fumbling slightly as the room spun a little more than it should. Gemini’s hand stayed planted on his thigh, warm and steady, anchoring him even as the game slipped further into chaos.
“Seriously, Mark? Again with the +4s?” Phuwin moaned, swaying in his seat. “You’re making it impossible to win.”
Mark just grinned, eyes shining bright with mischief. “That’s the point, mate. Survival of the fittest.”
Pond, meanwhile, was trying to figure out how to play a blue skip on a yellow reverse, his brow furrowed in concentration that quickly dissolved into a laugh when Satang corrected him. The group was a tangle of groans, laughter, and playful insults, the room thick with the scent of beer and the easy warmth that only comes after hours spent together.
Gemini shifted closer, his breath warm against Fourth’s ear. “You’re taking too long. I might have to help.”
Fourth’s heart skipped. “Help how?”
“Like this,” Gemini murmured, fingers curling around Fourth’s hand trying to help fourth.
“Hey! No cheating!” Phuwin protested, though the grin tugging at his lips showed he wasn’t really mad.
Bottles clinked again and again, their sharp sounds weaving into bursts of laughter that swelled louder, words slurring into teasing jabs and hiccupped jokes. The lamps cast a soft, golden glow that blurred the edges of the room, folding everyone into a cozy haze.
The pile of empty bottles grew taller, wobbling dangerously on the coffee table as the game stretched on. With each round, the players grew louder, their movements slower, and their laughter more unrestrained. Words slurred together, and rules blurred until no one quite remembered what was allowed and what wasn’t.
Mark slouched deeper into the couch, his stories trailing off mid-sentence, replaced by bursts of laughter. Pond tried to focus, but his eyes kept drooping shut before snapping back open. Phuwin’s exaggerated protests turned into good-natured groans, and Satang was nearly doubled over, clutching his stomach from laughter.
Gemini, leaning heavily against Fourth, was utterly carefree now. His hand remained planted on Fourth’s thigh, fingertips tracing lazy, half-drunk circles that sent shivers through Fourth despite the heat radiating from the room. “You’re too slow,” Gemini slurred softly into Fourth’s ear, breath warm and thick with alcohol.
Fourth chuckled, shaking his head. “I’m not the one cheating.”
“Cheating?” Gemini laughed, the sound low and teasing. “I’m just… improving your chances.”
Fourth caught Mark’s amused glance across the table, and Mark raised his beer in a mock toast. “At this rate, you two are going to hook up.” (Oh, little did he know)
The game dissolved further into a blur of mismatched cards, wild accusations, and playful jabs. Fourth’s hand shook slightly as he tried to pick a card, and Gemini’s knee nudged his again, a slow pressure that made Fourth’s breath catch.
By the time Mark dropped another +4, the room was a haze of warmth, laughter, and unsteady movements. No one cared about winning anymore
Through it all, Gemini’s hands grew bolder. No longer fleeting brushes, his palm settled firmly on Fourth’s thigh, fingers wandering in slow, teasing circles beneath the worn fabric. Fourth’s breath caught in his throat, heartbeat stammering as Gemini’s hand slid just a little higher, skin meeting skin—a quiet blaze igniting low and steady beneath his ribs.
Fourth’s head spun lightly, the warm buzz humming beneath his skin like a distant drum. His limbs felt heavier, movements slower—eyes shimmering with the soft blur that comes after too many drinks. The laughter and chatter around him seemed to swell and dip, a tide pulling at the edges of his senses.
He pushed himself up from the couch, the rough fabric scratching his palms, legs wobbling just enough to remind him he wasn’t quite steady. The room tilted slightly as he stepped forward, breath catching as Gemini’s hand lingered a moment longer on his thigh before releasing him.
Fourth wove carefully through the scattered cushions and scattered cards, the muffled noise of the group fading behind him. The cool air of the hallway hit his face, sharp and refreshing, nudging him forward with a promise of clarity.
He reached the bathroom door, fingers fumbling slightly as he pushed it open, the cool tile floor grounding him as he slipped inside to wash away the warm haze and find himself again.
The fluorescent light flickered softly overhead as Fourth leaned over the sink, cool water splashing against his flushed cheeks. He cupped his hands, letting the chill slide over his lips and down his throat, trying to steady the tremble that buzzed through his fingers. His reflection in the mirror caught his glassy eyes, searching, unsettled.
A quiet creak announced the door opening behind him. Fourth’s breath hitched before he even turned.
Gemini slipped inside, the door clicking shut softly. The air shifted—the faint, familiar scent of cedar wrapped around Fourth like a whispered promise. Gemini’s presence was close, too close, the heat from his body brushing Fourth’s back as he moved nearer.
His hand found Fourth’s waist, fingers warm and slow, sliding under the hem of his shirt just enough to send a jolt through his skin. Fourth’s pulse spiked, breath catching deep in his chest.
“Can’t let you slip away that easily,” Gemini murmured, voice low and rough, close enough that Fourth could feel the vibration against his neck.
Fourth swallowed hard, the coolness of the sink beneath his palms contrasting sharply with the fire igniting where Gemini’s touch lingered. The quiet hum of the bathroom—the drip of a faucet, their mingled breaths—stretched taut between them, heavy with unspoken things.
Gemini’s fingers traced a slow line along Fourth’s ribs, his touch teasing. Fourth’s body responded before his mind could catch up, every nerve alight, every breath shallow.
The air between them thickened, warm and electric, as Gemini’s fingers curled firmly around Fourth’s waist, drawing him closer. Fourth could feel the steady thrum of Gemini’s heartbeat pressed against his own, each rapid breath mingling, hot, sharp, and alive.
Gemini’s lips brushed against Fourth’s with feather-light heat, soft and teasing at first, sending shivers down Fourth’s spine. The faint scent of cedar and something muskier—Gemini’s skin, maybe—wrapped around him like a heady perfume. Fourth’s pulse hammered in his ears, every nerve ending alive, tingling beneath the surface.
Then the kiss deepened—hungry, demanding, lips parting to pull Fourth into a fierce, burning dance. The rough scrape of stubble against his cheek sent jolts of sensation spiraling through him. Fourth’s hands trembled as they tangled in the soft fabric of Gemini’s shirt, pulling him closer, desperate to feel the heat of skin beneath.
Their bodies pressed together, the cool tile floor forgotten beneath the fire that bloomed between them. Gemini’s fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns along Fourth’s ribs, the contrast of cool touch against flushed skin making every sensation sharper, more intense.
Gemini’s lips crushed harder against Fourth’s, the kiss twisting sharp and fierce. His hands gripped Fourth’s waist with sudden strength, fingers digging in just enough to leave fire trails beneath the fabric. The rough scrape of stubble dragged across Fourth’s cheek, dragging a shiver down his spine.
A sharp nip grazed Fourth’s bottom lip, teeth teasing and tugging until his breath caught, uneven and raw. Fourth’s fingers clenched at Gemini’s shirt, pulling him closer, hungry for the rough edge beneath the softness. Gemini’s nails raked along Fourth’s ribs, cool against flushed skin, sending jolts of sensation shooting through him.
Fourth’s chest rose and fell unevenly as he tugged back just enough to break their kiss. His fingers lingered on Gemini’s cheek, tracing the rough scrape of stubble with hesitant warmth. His voice came out low, breath hitching between words. “Phuwin’s house… we can’t do this here.”
Gemini’s eyes snapped open wide, the fire in them flickering out like a flame snuffed too soon. His body stiffened, lips parting as if to argue, but the words caught—replaced by a sudden, small slump in his shoulders. The fierce edge that had burned moments before melted into something softer, almost shy. He looked away, eyes flickering to the door like a unsure where to go.
Gemini looked like a puppy who’d been kicked—eyes wide and vulnerable, shoulders slumped, searching for a way out that wasn’t there. Fourth couldn’t help but feel a soft tug in his chest. Fourth almost swore he could see ears twitching at the top of his head, and a tail tucked low behind him.
Despite the heat still humming between them, despite the tension that had crackled just moments before, Gemini’s sudden quietness made him look impossibly small and… so damn cute.
Fourth’s heart twisted, warmth blooming behind his ribs. He brushed his thumb lightly along Gemini’s jaw, careful not to break the fragile silence. The gentle touch drew Gemini’s gaze back, hesitant but searching.
Fourth’s fingers curled around Gemini’s wrist, squeezing gently. His voice dropped to a soothing murmur. “We’ll have our time. Just… not here.”
Gemini’s lips parted slightly, and a soft, almost pitiful whine slipped out—like a puppy caught between wanting more and knowing it had to wait. The sound was low and shaky, tugging at something deep in Fourth’s chest.
Fourth’s chest tightened at the soft, hesitant shift in Gemini—the way his usual fire dimmed into something tender and vulnerable. Without thinking, Fourth cupped Gemini’s face gently, thumbs brushing over the rough stubble, tracing the planes of his jaw with slow, careful strokes.
Fourth’s hands twitched before he could stop them. His lips pressed quick, relentless kisses across Gemini’s face—nibbling at the rough stubble on his jaw, peppering the curve of his cheek with tiny, teasing pecks, and catching the tip of his nose between his teeth in a playful nip.
Gemini’s eyes widened, a startled whine slipping free, soft and raw. His breath hitched, body going still for a heartbeat before the familiar spark flickered behind those wide, unguarded eyes.
Fourth’s chest tightened, the wild rush of protectiveness and fierce affection crashing through him, making his fingers clench at Gemini’s hair.
Gemini’s eyelids fluttered closed, breath hitching softly.
Fourth smiled, letting his lips wander—quick, tender kisses peppered across Gemini’s face. A gentle peck to the tip of his nose, a light brush against his forehead, then a slow, lingering kiss along the stubbled cheek again.
Gemini’s lips parted slightly, a soft smile curling at the edge, and Fourth’s fingers tightened gently into the fabric at the back of Gemini’s shirt, pulling him closer, as if to hold this fragile warmth in place.
Fourth pulled Gemini close, the heat of their bodies pressing together in the cramped bathroom. Gemini’s breath fluttered against Fourth’s neck, warm and uneven, and Fourth’s fingers curled tightly around Gemini’s waist, grounding himself in the familiar weight.
His eyes flicked up to the fogged mirror—and froze.
Letters began to spill across the glass, clacking out in jagged rows like a typewriter gone haywire. Random characters spilled over the surface. The letters tumbled and tangled, some overlapping, others fading into mist, racing across the mirror as if a frantic story was being typed out in real time.
Fourth blinked hard, a knot twisting in his chest.
He rubbed his eyes, heart skipping a beat, and glanced back.
The mirror was spotless again—empty, silent.
A shaky laugh bubbled from his throat as the room wobbled gently around him. Fourth’s fingers loosened on Gemini’s shirt, his voice low and amused. “Maybe I’m more drunk than I thought.”