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The winter air over Walkis Magic Academy carried a thin, silver chill, the kind that made breath visible and magic feel sharper against the skin.
Inside the dormitory, two figures stood in the common room, staring at a disaster.
“No, no, no, that is absolutely not subtle,” Domina said flatly.
Across the room, Galuf held up a banner that read in enormous shimmering letters: HAPPY BIRTHDAY LOVIE & LÉVIS!!!
The exclamation points exploded into tiny fireworks every few seconds.
Galuf grinned. “It’s festive.”
“It’s obvious,” Domina replied.
The banner detonated again with a celebratory “boom”.
Galuf paused. “Subtly festive?”
Domina pressed two fingers to his temple as if warding off a headache. For someone known for commanding and maintaining composure in battle, planning a birthday surprise was proving unexpectedly… complicated.
“Lévis notices everything,” Domina said. “If he suspects even slightly—”
“He’ll ruin the surprise on purpose,” Galuf finished, nodding solemnly.
Both of them shuddered. Because Lévis Rosequartz did not simply observe. He calculated. He analyzed. He dismantled. Emotionally, strategically, and occasionally physically.
And today was his birthday. His and Lovie’s. Eighteen.
Galuf dropped the banner onto the couch, where it continued to sparkle aggressively. “Okay. New plan. We distract them separately. You keep Lovie busy. I’ll keep Lévis busy.”
Domina’s gaze softened at the mention of Lovie. Lovie Rosequartz, gentle, warm, far too pure for the brutal competitiveness of the magical world. His smile could quiet storms. His voice carried a softness that made even Domina’s tightly coiled anger loosen.
Domina cleared his throat. “That part is manageable.”
Galuf smirked. “Because you’re whipped.”
Domina did not dignify that with an answer.
“You’re absolutely whipped,” Galuf added.
Meanwhile, somewhere else in the academy, Lévis paused mid-step in a corridor, eyes narrowing slightly.
“Something feels off,” he murmured.
Lovie blinked beside him, arms full of books. “Off?”
“Yes.”
A faint spark of electricity crackled at Lévis’ fingertips, not an attack, just instinct. The magnetic pulse he emitted brushed along the walls, subtle and searching. Nothing unusual. Yet.
Lovie tilted his head, offering a gentle smile. “Maybe you’re just nervous today?”
“I don’t get nervous.”
“You didn’t sleep much.”
“I was studying.”
“You reorganized your notes alphabetically.”
“That improves efficiency.”
Lovie laughed softly, the sound warm enough to melt frost. “It’s our birthday, Lévi. You don’t have to treat it like a battlefield.”
Lévis looked away slightly. Birthdays were inefficient. Sentimental. Distracting. And yet, he couldn’t deny the faint, quiet anticipation in his chest. Not for presents, but for something else.
Back in the dormitory common room, Galuf was attempting to hang enchanted lanterns that would release harmless bursts of glitter shaped like magnets and tiny waves, symbolic, he claimed.
“Why magnets?” Domina asked.
Galuf blinked. “Because Lévis likes magnets.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“You’re jealous.”
Domina crossed his arms.
Galuf leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “You got Lovie something special, didn’t you?”
Domina didn’t answer. That was answer enough. A faint blush colored the tips of his ears.
Galuf gasped dramatically. “You did.”
Domina’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Say another word and I will flood this room.”
Galuf zipped his lips, but grinned anyway.
They both knew this wasn’t just a birthday.
For Lovie, it marked another year of fragile health regained. Another year he was here, smiling, alive, trying.
For Lévis, it was a silent acknowledgment of survival. Of pressure endured. Of expectations fought.
And for Domina and Galuf, it was the first birthday they would celebrate not as rivals. Not as distant allies, but as something softer. Something terrifying. Something worth planning glitter explosions for.
Domina straightened, regaining his usual composed expression. “We have three hours before dinner.”
Galuf cracked his knuckles. Acid magic shimmered faintly around his hands before he suppressed it. “Then let’s make it perfect.”
___1 hour later____________________________________________________
Galuf had decided that subtlety was overrated.
Domina had decided that Galuf was not allowed to decide things alone anymore.
“Absolutely not,” Domina said for the third time, watching Galuf test a small vial of glowing green liquid. The acid hissed gently, harmless, controlled, decorative.
“It’s diluted,” Galuf insisted. “It’ll just fizzle prettily. Like sparkler rain.”
“We are not decorating with corrosive substances.”
“It’s symbolic.”
“Of what?”
“My love language.”
Domina stared at him. “You’re unbelievable.”
Galuf grinned. “And yet Lévis adores me.”
Domina folded his arms, but he didn’t deny it. Because it was true.
Meanwhile, in the courtyard dusted with snow, Lovie had convinced Lévis to take a walk.
“It’s peaceful,” Lovie said softly, brushing a gloved hand along the railing. “Look how the frost catches the light.”
Lévis glanced at him instead of the frost. “You’re smiling more today.”
Lovie blinked. “Is that bad?”
“No.” A pause. “It’s distracting.”
Lovie laughed under his breath. “You’re the one who said you don’t get nervous.”
“I’m not nervous.”
“Then what are you?”
Lévis hesitated. He didn’t have a word for it. Anticipation felt too childish. Hope felt too vulnerable.
“Alert,” he settled on.
Lovie’s smile softened further. He knew his brother better than anyone. Lévis prepared for joy the same way he prepared for battle, cautiously, defensively, as if happiness might ambush him.
Lovie gently bumped their shoulders together. “It’s okay if something good happens today,” he said.
Lévis didn’t answer. But he didn’t move away.
Back in the dormitory, chaos was escalating.
Galuf had accidentally triggered one of Lévis’ old magnetic training discs while trying to move a metal table. The disc activated with a sharp hum, sending cutlery flying toward the ceiling in a clattering storm.
Domina reacted instantly. Water surged from the air itself, forming a controlled sphere that caught every fork, knife, and spoon mid-flight. The floating orb shimmered in suspended motion.
The two of them stood in silence.
“That could have been worse,” Galuf offered.
Domina slowly lowered the sphere, setting the cutlery back down. “If Lévis sees that disc out of place, he will know.”
Galuf blinked. “You’re right.”
They both looked at the disc. It was hovering slightly off-center.
Domina narrowed his eyes. Galuf squinted. Together, they adjusted it by less than a centimeter. They stepped back.
“Perfect,” Galuf whispered.
An hour later, the common room had transformed. Floating lanterns glowed in warm gold and soft blue. Streamers shimmered in muted pastels rather than explosive neon. The banner had been charmed to appear only when activated, hidden for now.
At the center of the room sat a table with a cake that Domina had personally ensured would not explode, dissolve, levitate, or combust. Galuf had argued for at least one dramatic effect. Domina had won. Mostly.
“Okay,” Galuf said, hands on hips. “Operation Surprise Rosequartz is ready.”
Domina checked the time. “They should be heading back.”
Right on cue, footsteps echoed faintly down the corridor.
Galuf grabbed Domina’s sleeve. “Positions!”
They extinguished the lanterns. The room dimmed to near darkness, lit only by faint winter light from the windows.
The door handle turned.
Lovie’s voice drifted in first. “You really don’t have to inspect the hinges, Lévi.”
“They feel loose.”
“They are not loose.”
“They could become loose.”
The door opened. They stepped inside. Silence.
Lévis froze instantly. “Something is different.”
Lovie blinked into the dimness. “Is it?”
The air felt charged. Galuf held his breath. Domina steadied his pulse.
Lévis took one slow step forward. Then another. His gaze sharpened.
“There are two additional magical signatures in this room,” he said calmly.
Galuf’s eyes widened.
Domina mouthed: “How the hell…”
“And the magnetic polarity of the table has shifted by 0.3 degrees.”
Galuf silently screamed.
Lévis’ eyes glinted faintly in the dark. “Love, you know you’re terrible at ambushes,” he concluded.
Domina exhaled sharply. “Now,” he muttered.
The lanterns ignited in a warm burst of light. The banner unfurled midair in a cascade of gold. Confetti, the non-explosive, non-corrosive kind, fluttered gently from above.
“SURPRISE!” Galuf shouted.
Lovie gasped. Lévis did not. But he blinked. Once. Twice.
The room glowed softly around them. The cake shimmered gently at the center of the table.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Lovie’s hands flew to his mouth. “You… you did this?”
Domina stepped forward, suddenly far less composed than he had been during battle. “Of course.”
Galuf crossed his arms, pretending casual confidence. “We’re not completely heartless.”
Lévis’ gaze moved slowly across the decorations. The lanterns. The carefully aligned furniture. The cake. His brother’s shining eyes. Then to Galuf.
“You adjusted the magnetic disc,” Lévis said.
Galuf stiffened. “It was slightly off.”
“By 0.7 centimeters.”
“It’s 0.6 now.”
A pause.
“Acceptable,” Lévis replied.
Galuf nearly collapsed in relief.
Lovie turned in a slow circle, taking everything in like it was fragile and precious. “This is the first surprise party anyone’s ever thrown for us,” he whispered.
That sentence settled heavily in the air.
Domina’s chest tightened.
Lévis’ expression shifted, almost imperceptibly, from suspicion to something quieter. Something softer.
“It’s inefficient,” Lévis said.
Galuf groaned.
“But,” Lévis continued, eyes flicking briefly to Galuf before moving away again, “not entirely unpleasant.”
Galuf grinned so hard it hurt.
Lovie walked forward without hesitation and wrapped his arms around Domina. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t loud. But it was warm.
“Thank you,” Lovie said against his shoulder.
Domina’s arms came up slowly, carefully, as if afraid the moment might break. “Happy birthday,” he murmured.
Across the room, Galuf bumped Lévis’ shoulder lightly. “You can admit you’re happy.”
“I am content.”
“That’s basically the same thing.”
“It is not.”
Galuf leaned closer.
Lévis’ pulse stuttered, just slightly. “…But I appreciate this," he admitted quietly.
Galuf blinked. Than smiled.
The cake flickered softly at the center of the table, candles igniting one by one.
Eighteen flames. Two names. Four boys standing in golden light while snow fell quietly beyond the windows.
The candles flickered in synchronized rhythm, small golden flames reflecting in four very different pairs of eyes.
“Make a wish,” Galuf said immediately.
Lévis looked at him. “Wishes are statistically unreliable.”
“Just do it.”
“They lack measurable outcome—”
Lovie gently nudged his brother closer to the cake. “You don’t have to optimize everything, Lévi.”
A pause. Then, surprisingly obediently, Lévis leaned forward.
Domina watched Lovie instead of the candles.
Lovie closed his eyes first. His wish came easily. Not for power. Not for recognition. Just this. More of this.
When they blew out the candles together, the flames didn’t smoke, they dissolved into tiny floating lights that hovered briefly above their heads before fading like soft stars.
Galuf blinked. “Okay, that was cool.”
Domina allowed himself the smallest hint of pride. “Controlled evaporation spell.”
“You’re showing off.”
“I am not.”
“You are.”
Across the table, Lévis examined the cake like it might conceal a trap.
“It isn’t going to explode, is it?”
“No,” Domina and Galuf answered at the same time.
“Probably,” Galuf added.
Domina elbowed him sharply.
Lovie laughed, open, bright, unguarded. The sound shifted something in the room.
Lévis noticed. He always noticed. And though he would never say it aloud, he catalogued that sound carefully in his memory.
They cut the cake.
Galuf insisted on slicing aggressively large pieces. Domina corrected the portions with clinical precision.
Lovie thanked them both as if they had just handed him something priceless instead of sugar and frosting.
Lévis tasted his slice. “It’s good.”
Galuf froze. “That’s it? That’s all we get?”
Lévis took another bite, slower this time. “It’s very good.”
Galuf nearly flipped the table in triumph. Domina hid a small smile behind his fork.
Presents came next.
Lovie went first.
Domina stepped forward, posture uncharacteristically tense. From within his coat, he withdrew a small velvet box, deep blue, almost the exact shade of his magic.
Lovie’s eyes widened slightly. “Domina…”
“It’s not extravagant,” Domina said quickly. “Just practical.”
Lovie opened it carefully. Inside rested a delicate silver bracelet, thin, understated, with a tiny charm shaped like a droplet of water. But when Lovie touched it, faint warmth pulsed through the metal.
“It’s enchanted,” Domina said quietly. “It stabilizes your magic output if your pulse spikes. And… it alerts me if you’re unwell.”
The room went very still. Lovie looked up. His eyes were shining.
“You made this?”
Domina hesitated. “Yes.”
Lovie didn’t say thank you this time. He stepped forward and kissed him. Soft. Sure. Certain.
Galuf made a strangled noise in the background. Lévis did not comment. But the magnetic field in the room fluctuated for half a second.
“Ahem,” Galuf said dramatically. “Our turn.”
He shoved a rectangular package at Lévis.
Lévis accepted it cautiously. “It’s not volatile?”
“Open it.”
Inside was a custom-bound notebook. Black cover. Silver edging. Embossed on the front in precise lettering: L.R. - Grand Strategy Log.
Lévis stared at it.
“It’s reinforced paper,” Galuf said quickly. “Spell-resistant. Tear-proof. You can run calculations in it without the pages combusting. I tested it.”
“You tested it how?”
“Minor explosion.”
Domina sighed.
Lévis ran his fingers along the cover. It was thoughtful. Annoyingly so.
“You noticed,” Lévis said quietly.
Galuf shrugged, suddenly less loud. “You burn through notebooks like they insulted you.”
Lévis closed the book carefully. “It’s efficient.”
Galuf narrowed his eyes. “And?”
“Thank you.”
It was almost whispered. But Galuf heard it. And that was enough.
The room had quieted after the envelopes. Even Galuf, who had been seconds away from declaring himself a “mastermind of emotional warfare”, sensed something fragile settling over the moment and stayed silent.
Lovie turned back to his brother. There was a softness in his expression that only Lévis ever saw, a look that carried years of shared rooms, shared punishments, shared expectations neither of them had asked for.
“We have something too,” Lovie repeated gently.
Lévis’ brows knit together. “We agreed not to exchange gifts between ourselves.”
“We discussed it,” Lovie corrected. “You declared it inefficient.”
“It is.”
“You said birthdays between siblings are ‘a redundant ritual that wastes resources.’”
“They are.”
Lovie smiled. “You still kept the ribbon from when we were eight.”
Galuf’s head snapped toward Lévis. Domina very carefully did not look.
“That was different,” Lévis said stiffly.
“How?”
“It had structural integrity.”
Lovie laughed under his breath, stepping closer. He held out a small package, wrapped neatly, not extravagantly. The paper was plain white, tied with thin silver string. Practical. Precise. Very Lévis.
Lévis stared at it like it might detonate. “You shouldn’t have.”
“I wanted to.”
“That isn’t logical.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
There it was again, that gentle defiance Lovie alone possessed. The kind that never clashed with Lévis’ sharp edges. Just softened them.
Slowly, Lévis accepted the package. His fingers brushed Lovie’s for a fraction of a second. Electricity sparked, faint, involuntary.
Lévis unwrapped it carefully, preserving the paper. Inside was a small, polished metal compass. It wasn’t enchanted, Domina could tell immediately. No magical signature. No hidden glyphs. Just steel and glass and careful craftsmanship.
Lévis lifted it slightly. “It doesn’t emit mana,” he observed.
“No,” Lovie said.
“It won’t recalibrate for magical interference.”
“No.”
“It won’t correct for magnetic distortion.”
Lovie tilted his head. “No.”
“Then what is its function?”
Lovie’s smile softened. “You always calculate direction yourself,” he said quietly. “You account for every variable. Every risk. Every outcome.”
Lévis didn’t interrupt.
“But sometimes… you look tired,” Lovie continued. “Like you’re carrying all the directions alone.”
The room felt smaller. Warmer.
“You don’t have to,” Lovie finished. “If you ever feel lost, even just a little, you can use that. Or you can ask me.”
Lévis’ jaw tightened slightly. “I am not lost.”
“I know.”
Lovie’s voice didn’t waver. “But if you ever are… there are people who will walk with you.”
The words were simple. They hit harder than any spell.
For a moment, Lévis couldn’t speak. He looked down at the compass again. The needle trembled faintly, reacting to his magic. Then slowly, deliberately, he closed it.
“Idiot,” he muttered. But he didn’t give it back.
He slipped it carefully into the inner pocket of his coat. Closest to his chest. Lovie noticed. Of course he did. And he didn’t comment.
“I suppose,” Lévis said after a moment, voice regaining its usual composure, “that renders my original position inconsistent.”
Galuf blinked. “You mean you also got him something.”
Lévis did not look at him. “That would be redundant.”
Domina’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“Lévi,” Lovie said softly.
There it was again. That look. The one that saw through every defense. A breath. Quiet. Measured.
Then Lévis reached into his coat. “I prepared this,” he said carefully, “in the event that you violated our agreement.”
Galuf made a strangled noise. Domina pressed his fingers to his temple.
Lévis withdrew a narrow case, matte black, minimal design. It looked more like a tactical instrument than a birthday present. He held it out.
Lovie accepted it slowly. “You planned for me ignoring you?”
“I accounted for statistical probability.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“Yes.”
Lovie opened the case. Inside rested a thin silver chain, understated like the bracelet Domina had given him, but different in design. The pendant was small and geometric, a tiny polished magnet encased in glass. It was elegant. Subtle. But when Lovie lifted it slightly, he felt it, a gentle hum.
“Lévi...”
“It’s calibrated to my magnetic signature,” Lévis said, eyes fixed somewhere just past Lovie’s shoulder. “If your heartbeat destabilizes beyond a safe range, it will pull toward me.”
The room went completely silent.
“You won’t have to call,” Lévis continued, voice quieter now. “It will guide you.”
Lovie’s fingers tightened around the pendant. It wasn’t flashy. It wasn’t sentimental in the traditional sense. It was protective. Precise. Thought through from every angle. Just like him.
“You made this?” Lovie asked.
“Yes.”
“For how long?”
“Three weeks.”
Galuf’s jaw dropped. “You started this three weeks ago and still argued we shouldn’t exchange gifts?!” he exploded.
“It was contingency planning.”
“That’s not contingency planning, that’s love!”
The air crackled faintly. Lévis did not deny it. Lovie stepped closer. Very close now. Close enough that Lévis’ composure faltered just slightly.
“You said it was inefficient,” Lovie murmured.
“It is.”
“And yet?”
Lévis met his eyes. “You are the only inefficiency I tolerate,” than he turned to Galuf. “Except this idiot.”
Domina inhaled sharply. Galuf made a choking sound somewhere between horror and delight.
Lovie laughed, but it trembled at the edges. “That might be the sweetest thing you’ve ever said.”
“It was not intended as sweet.”
“I know.”
And then Lovie did what he always did. He reached up. And hugged him. Not dramatic. Not overwhelming. Just steady.
Lévis stiffened automatically. Then, slowly, carefully, his arms came up too. Resting lightly against Lovie’s back. As if holding something breakable. As if holding something precious.
The magnetic field in the room steadied. Balanced.
Galuf looked at Domina. “They’re disgustingly perfect.”
Domina nodded faintly. “They really are.”
After a long moment, Lovie pulled back just enough to fasten the chain around his neck. The tiny magnet pendant settled against his collarbone. It pulsed once, faintly, aligning.
Lévis noticed immediately. “It fits.”
“It’s perfect,” Lovie replied.
And this time, Lévis didn’t argue. He only adjusted the clasp slightly, ensuring it sat exactly right.
For a while after the gifts were exchanged, no one quite knew what to do with the softness that had settled over the room.
It was easier to fight. Easier to argue. Easier to pretend none of them cared as much as they did.
But now Lovie’s new pendant rested over his heart, faintly humming in quiet synchronization with Lévis’ magic, and Domina’s bracelet gleamed subtly around Lovie’s wrist.
And Galuf was staring at Lévis like he’d just witnessed a rare celestial event.
“You’re staring,” Lévis said without looking at him.
“I’m processing.”
“Process silently.”
Galuf grinned and leaned back on his hands. “You spent three weeks crafting a protective charm and still tried to outlaw sibling gifts. That’s villain behavior.”
“I am not a villain.”
“Debatable.”
Lévis finally looked at him, sharp, but not cutting.
“You,” Lévis said calmly, “nearly ruined the magnetic calibration of the room by 0.7 centimeters.”
“It was 0.6 when we finished.”
“You breathed on it.”
Galuf gasped in mock offense. “Are you accusing my breathing of structural sabotage?”
“Yes.”
Domina sighed quietly from the couch, where Lovie now sat tucked comfortably against his side.
“You two flirt like you’re preparing for war,” Domina muttered.
“We are,” Galuf replied instantly. “It’s called emotional vulnerability.”
Lévis stood.
Galuf blinked. “Oh no. Why are you standing like that?”
Lévis extended a hand. “Up.”
“Up?”
“You’ve been on the floor for twelve minutes.”
Galuf stared at the offered hand like it was a rare artifact. “Are you asking me to dance?”
“I am asking you to stop slouching.”
“Close enough.”
But he took the hand. Of course he did.
Lévis pulled him up smoothly, firm grip, precise strength.
Galuf didn’t let go.
Lévis noticed. He didn’t pull away.
Their hands remained linked for a second longer than necessary.
“Your acid magic destabilizes when you sit too long,” Lévis said, tone clinical.
Galuf smirked. “You track that?”
“Yes.”
“That’s hot.”
Lévis’ ears tinted faintly pink.
Across the room, Lovie watched with soft amusement. “They’re cute,” he whispered.
Domina glanced down at him. “You find this chaos cute?”
“Yes.”
Domina’s gaze softened. Lovie always saw warmth where others saw conflict. It was one of the things that had drawn Domina in before he’d even realized it.
Lovie shifted slightly, fingers brushing against the front of Domina’s coat. “Thank you,” he said again, quieter this time.
“You already thanked me.”
“I know.”
Lovie traced the small water droplet charm lightly. “You think about things long before you say them.”
Domina stiffened slightly. “That is called planning.”
“It’s called caring.”
Domina looked away.
Lovie reached up and gently turned his face back. “You don’t have to pretend you’re indifferent,” Lovie murmured. “Not with me.”
Domina’s composure cracked, just a little.
“I am not indifferent,” he said, voice lower now. “I simply prefer control.”
“And you lose it with me?”
“Frequently.”
Lovie smiled, not teasing, just warm.
“Good.”
Domina blinked. “Good?”
“Yes.”
Lovie leaned closer, resting his forehead briefly against Domina’s collarbone. “I don’t want you perfectly controlled all the time,” he whispered. “I want you real.”
Domina’s hand came up slowly, resting at Lovie’s waist. Firm. Protective. “I am real,” he said quietly.
“I know.”
And then Lovie did something small but devastating. He intertwined their fingers.
Domina inhaled sharply. It was such a simple gesture. But for someone who carried anger like armor and composure like a blade, it felt more intimate than any dramatic declaration.
“I like holding your hand,” Lovie admitted softly.
Domina looked down at their joined fingers. “It is inefficient.”
Lovie squeezed gently. “And?”
Domina’s thumb brushed faintly against Lovie’s knuckles. “Acceptable.”
On the other side of the room, Galuf was poking Lévis’ shoulder. “You’re thinking too loud again.”
“I am not.”
“You are. Your magic hum changes pitch.”
Lévis frowned slightly. “You notice that?”
“I notice everything about you.”
That shut him up.
Galuf leaned in a little closer. “You don’t have to analyze every happy moment,” he said more quietly now. “It won’t disappear if you stop measuring it.”
Lévis’ gaze flickered. “Happiness is unstable.”
“Only if you treat it like a formula.”
Galuf reached forward and adjusted Lévis’ collar, unnecessarily. “There,” he said.
“That was already aligned.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Galuf’s grin softened into something far less chaotic. “Because I like touching you.”
The air between them shifted. Lévis’ pulse spiked, subtle but noticeable. The compass in his pocket pressed faintly against his chest.
“You are reckless,” Lévis said.
“With you?”
“Yes.”
Galuf shrugged. “Worth it.”
For once, Lévis had no counterargument.
Instead, he reached forward, deliberate, controlled, and straightened Galuf’s sleeve.
“You tore this during training.”
“You saw that?”
“Yes.”
“You didn’t say anything.”
“It was minor.”
“And?”
“I prefer repairing damage quietly.”
Galuf stared at him. “Lévi.”
“Yes.”
“That’s the most romantic threat I’ve ever heard.”
“It was not a threat.”
“Debatable.”
But Galuf didn’t pull away. Instead, he rested his forehead lightly against Lévis’ temple. Not dramatic. Not loud. Just there.
Lévis stiffened. Then relaxed. Just slightly. His hand hovered at Galuf’s waist before settling, careful, like he was afraid to grip too tightly.
“You destabilize my focus,” Lévis murmured.
Galuf smiled against him. “Good.”
Across the room, Lovie and Domina watched them quietly.
“They’re learning,” Lovie said.
“Yes,” Domina agreed.
“And so are we.”
Domina looked down at him. “What are we learning?”
Lovie tilted his head. “That it’s okay to need someone.”
Domina was silent for a long moment. “You do not need me.”
Lovie smiled gently. “No.”
“But you choose me.”
“Always.”
That word carried more weight than any speech.
Lovie leaned up and kissed him again, slower this time. More certain.
Domina responded without hesitation. Water magic flickered faintly in the air, not violently, not defensively. Just warm. Like mist.
On the other side of the room, Lévis felt the shift in humidity and glanced over. “Contain your output,” he said automatically.
Domina didn’t break the kiss.
Galuf snorted. “Oh let them have it.”
Lévis hesitated. Then looked back at Galuf.
“Very well.”
A beat.
“You may also… have it.”
Galuf blinked.
“Did you just give me permission to kiss you?”
“That was not the phrasing.”
“Close enough.”
And this time, when Galuf closed the distance, Lévis didn’t analyze it. Didn’t calculate angle. Didn’t measure outcome. He simply leaned in. Careful. Controlled. But real.
The kiss between Lévis and Galuf was nothing like Lovie and Domina’s. Where Lovie and Domina were warmth and quiet gravity, Lévis and Galuf were tension and static, a held breath finally released.
Galuf pulled back just enough to grin. “See? No structural collapse.”
“Inconclusive,” Lévis replied, though his voice had dropped half a tone.
Galuf tilted his head. “You’re overthinking again.”
“I am calibrating.”
“You’re blushing.”
“I am not.”
“You absolutely—”
The rest of the sentence dissolved as Lévis pulled him back in. Less tentative this time. Still precise, that was simply who he was, but no longer distant.
Galuf made a surprised sound into the kiss that melted into something softer.
Across the room, Lovie beamed.
Domina cleared his throat quietly. “Do not stare.”
“I’m not staring,” Lovie whispered.
“You are glowing.”
“That’s different.”
Domina’s arm tightened slightly around Lovie’s waist. Lovie leaned into him without hesitation.
“You’re squeezing,” Lovie murmured.
“Too tight?”
“No.” A small smile. “I like it.”
Domina exhaled slowly. He adjusted his hold, not loosening, just settling more naturally.
“You lean toward warmth,” Domina observed quietly.
Lovie blinked up at him. “Is that strange?”
“No. Just… I am not used to being chosen for warmth.”
That vulnerability slipped out before he could catch it.
Lovie’s expression changed immediately, not pity, never pity. Understanding.
“You don’t have to be used to it,” Lovie said gently. “You just have to let it happen.”
Domina searched his face like he was deciphering a spell. “You are dangerously optimistic.”
“And you’re dangerously guarded.”
“And yet.”
“And yet,” Lovie echoed.
He brushed his thumb lightly along Domina’s wrist, just above the pulse.
“I don’t mind your storms,” Lovie whispered. “As long as you don’t shut me out of them.”
Domina’s eyes softened in a way only Lovie ever saw. “I would never shut you out.”
It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was a promise.
Meanwhile, Galuf had decided that leaning against Lévis was his new favorite hobby. He hooked an arm loosely around Lévis’ waist, testing boundaries the way he always did, nudging, checking, waiting for resistance.
Lévis tensed at first. Then didn’t move away.
Galuf smiled faintly. “There it is.”
“What.”
“You’re staying.”
“I was not attempting to leave.”
“No. But you usually stand like you are.”
Lévis paused. That was… pretty accurate. He was always positioned to move. To react. To defend. With Galuf’s arm around him, that stance shifted. Less sharp. Less ready-to-spring.
“You disrupt my defensive posture,” Lévis said.
“Good.”
“That was not praise.”
“I know.”
Galuf rested his chin briefly on Lévis’ shoulder. “You don’t have to guard everything when you’re with me,” he said more quietly now.
Lévis’ fingers twitched slightly at his side. “You are reckless.”
“And you’re careful.”
“Yes.”
“That’s why we work.”
Lévis considered that. Galuf was impulsive. Emotional. Loud where Lévis was controlled and calculating.
And yet, Galuf had adjusted the magnetic disc to the correct alignment. He had noticed the notebook problem. He had watched Lévis’ breathing pattern shift earlier and pretended not to comment.
Reckless, yes. But observant. Steady in his own way.
“You pay attention,” Lévis said.
Galuf grinned against his shoulder. “To you? Always.”
That did something dangerous to Lévis’ pulse.
He adjusted his grip slightly, hand resting more securely at Galuf’s hip.
“You destabilize me,” Lévis admitted quietly.
Galuf didn’t tease this time. He just squeezed gently.
“Then let me be the one who catches you.”
The lanterns flickered lower as the night deepened. Cake plates sat forgotten on the table. Snow thickened outside the windows.
Inside, the space between the four of them felt smaller. Closer.
Lovie eventually tugged Domina toward the window. “Look,” he said softly.
Domina followed his gaze.
Snowflakes drifted past the glass in slow spirals.
Lovie pressed his palm lightly to the window.
Domina stepped behind him instinctively, hands settling at Lovie’s waist again. Protective. Grounding.
“Eighteen,” Lovie murmured.
“Yes.”
“I’m glad we’re here.”
Domina rested his chin lightly against Lovie’s shoulder. “So am I.”
“You worried,” Lovie added gently.
Domina didn’t deny it. “Yes.”
“About today?”
“About you.”
Lovie turned in his arms. “I’m still here.”
“I know.”
Domina’s fingers tightened briefly, then relaxed. “I dislike uncertainty,” he said. “But with you… I am learning to endure it.”
Lovie smiled softly. “That’s enough.”
He leaned up and kissed Domina again, slower this time, no urgency, just closeness.
Domina responded immediately. Not guarded. Not restrained. Just present.
Behind them, Galuf nudged Lévis toward the couch.
“Sit,” Galuf ordered playfully.
“You do not command me.”
“Sit.”
“This is coercion.”
“Please, sit.”
Lévis sat.
Galuf dropped down beside him, shoulder pressed firmly against his. Comfortable. Unapologetic.
“You’re thinking again,” Galuf said.
“Yes.”
“About what?”
“This.”
“Define ‘this.’”
Lévis looked around the room. At his brother smiling by the window. At Domina’s steady posture. At the fading candles. At Galuf’s hand resting loosely against his own.
“It is inefficient,” Lévis said quietly.
Galuf rolled his eyes. “And?”
“I do not wish for it to end.”
That caught Galuf off guard. His teasing grin softened. “Well,” he said gently, “good thing it doesn’t have to.”
Lévis glanced at him. “Birthdays end,” he said.
“Yeah.”
“Moments pass.”
“Yeah.”
“But?”
Galuf intertwined their fingers. “But we don’t.”
Lévis looked down at their joined hands. For once, he didn’t analyze the angle. Didn’t calculate the pressure. He just held on.
“Acceptable,” he murmured.
Galuf laughed quietly.
Across the room, Lovie caught the sound and smiled.
Four boys. Two sets of hands intertwined. Different rhythms. Different kinds of love. One night that felt bigger than eighteen candles.