Work Text:
The garden smells faintly like something burning.
Sipping his drink, Mok leans back against his chair, arms crossed, watching Rome and Thee argue over the grill like it’s a life-or-death situation.
“You’re doing it wrong,” Rome insists.
“This is how it’s done in my Lakorns,” Thee shoots back, not even looking up as he attempts to flip the meat.
Rolling his eyes, Rome once again attempts to take over.
Across from him, Peach snorts under his breath.
Mok doesn’t laugh.
He’s not really watching them.
Not fully.
Because in his head, the Arseni-Lee family rules drill into him like a script he can’t turn off.
Stay in control.
Don’t get attached.
Love is a distraction.
Simple.
Clear.
Safe.
Rome glances up for a second—just a second—and catches Mok staring.
He smiles.
It’s small. Unthinking. Like it just happened.
Mok looks away immediately.
Love is a distraction. It will only put them all in danger.
He repeats in his head like a mantra.
Too late for that.
Because something in his chest has already fallen.
Across the room, Rome laughs as the grill hisses too loudly, and Thee swears under his breath, grabbing a towel.
It’s chaotic. Messy. Normal.
Mok’s grip tightens against his arm.
The rules never said anything about this.
About warmth.
About laughter.
About the way his chest feels too tight when Rome looks at him like that.
“Hey,” Peach nudges him lightly.
Mok doesn’t look away this time.
“Yeah?”
Peach studies him for a moment, a gentle knowing look in his eyes. “It’s nice seeing them like that, isn’t it?”
Mok watches Rome—really watches him now, the way he moves, the way he cares too much, the way he always seems to see through Mok.
“Yeah,” Mok says quietly.
And for once—
He doesn't try to stop himself.