Chapter Text
“Make a wish before blowing the candles.” Mok said, holding a small bento cake with rich chocolate fudge frosting and soft lavender-colored piping around the edges.
Rome closed his eyes, intertwined his fingers and made a wish. When he opened them, he blew out the three candles flickering on the cake.
"Happy Birthday, krubbb," Mok said, gently setting the cake down on the glass table between them.
The soft clink of the glass echoed through the living room of the Arseni family’s private guesthouse. It was a sterile, heavily guarded bubble, a stark reminder of the world they were trapped in. His parents had bailed on his 21st birthday dinner at the last minute because something urgent had come up in the underground business, something his father had to handle immediately.
That left Rome with only his older brother, P'Kian.
Kian never really said no to him, even if he masked his protectiveness behind a cold facade. Knowing this, Rome had pulled out all the stops earlier that day. He put on his best pitiful face and spun an intensely emotional story about how he would be entirely alone in Hong Kong for years, arguing that any stolen moment before his departure would be a treasure to last a lifetime.
Kian had only given him a sharp side-eye, muttered something about Rome being a little too dramatic and walked away. Rome had stood there completely confused, wondering if his guilt-trip had utterly failed.
But it hadn't. By that afternoon, Mok had suddenly showed up at the guesthouse.
Rome’s brain had short-circuited the moment Mok started explaining how Kian had arranged it. He couldn't even register the full sentences. All his mind caught were fractured pieces of Mok's voice,
...holiday... 20 days... birthday dinner... two of us... together.
Together.
Together.
Together.
Now, sitting across from each other, reality was catching up. The 21st birthday tradition meant Rome was about to be initiated into a world of cold calculation and violence. Honestly, the family name didn't scare him. The worst part was the impending, suffocating silence of facing that darkness without Mok.
Mok must have felt the heavy shift in the room, too. His gaze lingered on Rome just a second too long, his fingers brushing against Rome's as he picked up the plastic knife.
"What did you ask for?" Mok asked, his voice dropping an octave as he cut a slice of the cake. He placed it on a paper plate and handed it over, his eyes searching Rome's face for any sign of breaking.
Rome leaned forward against the table, propping his chin up with his palm as his eyes locked onto Mok's. "A wishlist.”
"A wishlist?" Mok’s brows furrowed in confusion, the plastic knife still resting in his hand.
"Yes. A wishlist of twenty things you want to do," Rome replied, a soft smile tugging at his lips.
Mok paused, staring at him. "Rome, it's your birthday. You should be wishing for something for yourself, not me."
"Well, it's the same thing to me," Rome said, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, his gaze never wavering. "I want you as my wish... but I figured asking for that would be a little too much."
For now, at least, he continued in his heart.
Until I am strong enough to rewrite the rules of this family.
Mok looked at him, a faint, helpless smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know you can ask for literally anything as your birthday wish, right?"
"This is my everything," Rome replied, his tone entirely earnest. He reached out, his fingers lightly grazing the cool glass edge of the table. "I can't have you completely yet, Mok. But I'm going to hold you close at every single chance I get. And..." Rome dropped his voice to a soft, fierce whisper, "...I'll never let you go."
The words hit Mok like a splash of ice-cold water. A heavy, aching numbness settled deep in his chest. It was a terrifying contradiction.
How could someone be standing right in front of you, so impossibly close, yet feel a whole universe away?
Swallowing the lump in his throat, Mok forced his voice to sound firm and grounded. "Fine. But ten."
Rome immediately grumbled, his shoulders dropping in instant defeat. "But ten is way too little, Mok."
"Why?"
"Because I want to do as many things as I possibly can with you. Together," Rome said, his eyes practically pleading, hoping his honesty would finally break Mok's stubborn resolve.
"Exactly. Together," Mok countered, leaning forward slightly. "So how would it be fair if we only do the things I want to do and none of yours?"
Rome opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat. He stared at Mok, completely at a loss.
"You choose ten and I'll choose ten," Mok said, his voice softening as he watched the confusion on Rome's face turn into realization. He gave a small, reassuring nod. "We'll combine them into twenty wishes.”
"That way… we're creating memories together." He emphasized the last word, making sure it anchored safely between them.
A sudden, blossoming warmth spread through Rome's chest. The suffocating tightness that usually accompanied the thought of his departure seemed to melt away, if only for a fleeting moment.
Mok was thinking of him. Mok was factoring Rome's own happiness into a countdown that was supposed to be entirely about granting Rome's wishes. But then again, when had Mok ever not thought of him?
To the rest of the world, Mok was the definition of unyielding. He was the cold, aloof, heartless bodyguard who moved like a shadow and wore a stoic expression like impenetrable armor. People only saw a man who cared about fulfilling his duty and protecting his boss.
But Rome knew the truth. Rome had looked past the armor.
To Rome, Mok was a beautifully kept secret.
He was the quiet reassurance in the middle of a chaotic, dangerous room. He was the fierce protector who expressed his love not through grand, sweeping declarations but through the deliberate, quiet ways he anticipated Rome's every need. Mok was the warmth of a jacket thrown over Rome's shoulders on a chilly night, the silent, steady presence that made Rome feel entirely safe, no matter how turbulent his life became.
Hearing Mok use the word together with such fierce intention sent a shiver straight to Rome's core. Mok wasn't just agreeing to a checklist to pass the time, he was actively investing his own heart into these final twenty days. He was making sure that when Rome finally boarded that flight to Hong Kong, he would carry a piece of Mok's world with him.
A soft, breathless smile broke across Rome's face, his eyes shining with an affection he couldn't possibly hide. Mok’s stoicism was nothing but a fragile glass wall and right now, it was completely shattered.
Only for Rome.
"Ten and ten," Rome murmured, his voice thick with an emotion he could barely contain. He reached across the table, his hand resting just inches away from Mok's, desperate to close the distance.
They both pulled out their phones, ready to type, except the enthusiasm vanished the moment their fingers hovered over the keyboards. For way too long, they just stared blankly at the glowing screens, completely stumped. When you spend your whole life trapped in the shadows of an underground empire, suddenly being handed the freedom to choose whatever you want feels less like a gift and more like a riddle.
They took their time, typing a line, deleting it and staring into space before Rome finally groaned.
"You're right, it is a lot," Rome grumbled, tossing his head back against the couch cushions. "How can I not know what the ten things I want are?!"
"I could only manage three," Mok admitted, his tone carrying a rare hint of defeat as he stopped typing.
Amused and curious, they both set their phones face-up on the glass table, sliding them over to exchange notes. They leaned in, scanned each other's screens and then looked back up, locking eyes in total silence.
"Yeah... I don't think so..." Rome said slowly.
For a second, the heavy atmosphere returned, only to be completely shattered as they both burst out laughing. The sound echoed brightly through the sterile guesthouse, wiping away the lingering tension.
They were laughing because of what was staring back at them from the screens. Rome had managed five items, and Mok had written three but neither of them had actually written a single thing for themselves.
Rome
- visit mok’s coffee spot
- spend an afternoon at the shooting range without any interruptions or radio calls
- eat at mok’s favourite noodle place
- drive out to the mountain
- sleep past 6.00 a.m. without alarm
Mok
- visit rome’s favourite night market downtown
- play at the arcade without any bodyguards
- drive along the coastal highway
Rome’s list was entirely packed with things Mok liked, from specific quiet coffee spots to dishes Mok preferred. Meanwhile, Mok’s short list of three was exclusively made of things Rome had offhandedly mentioned wanting to try over the past year.
"This completely defeats the purpose of having a wishlist for yourself," Rome managed to say through his laughter, his eyes crinkling. "We're supposed to be making each other do what we want, not playing mind-reader!"
Mok shook his head, a genuine, warm smile completely softening his face. "Habbit, I guess. My job is literally to think about what you need before you do."
"Well, your job is on pause for the next twenty days," Rome said softly, his laughter dying down into a gentle, fierce warmth. He picked up his phone and cleared the screen. "Let's start over. And this time, be selfish, Mok. I want to know what you want when you're just you."
Mok easily replied, "You should be selfish too, since your notes of five only had things I want."
Rome laughed, his heart warming with the easy banter vibrating between them. He leaned back against the cushions, letting his gaze linger on Mok.
Despite not being in his usual, rigid bodyguard uniform, Mok still looked effortlessly sharp. He wore a simple, structured dark slate sweater that clung perfectly to his broad shoulders, the soft fabric making him appear slightly more approachable than the lethal shadow he usually was. The clear glasses perched on his nose added an unexpected, devastating layer of softness to his sharp features. They framed his dark, piercing eyes, eyes that usually scanned crowds for hidden threats, but were now focused entirely on Rome with a quiet, profound intensity.
The subtle glare on the lenses couldn't hide the heavy, dark lashes or the faint, relaxed crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Without the strict black suit and earpiece, the hard line of his jawline seemed just a fraction less tense and his usually stern lips were still holding onto the remnants of that genuine smile. He looked completely, beautifully human.
Rome’s human…
The realization settled deep in Rome’s chest, sweet and incredibly heavy. To the Arseni syndicate, Mok was an asset, a lethal weapon trained to take a bullet without blinking. But right here, in the quiet of this guesthouse, Mok belonged entirely to him.
"Stop staring and start typing," Mok said softly, though the faint flush on his cheekbones betrayed him. He adjusted his glasses again, clearing his throat to break the spell. "The clock is ticking, krubbb."
"Right. Typing," Rome murmured, tearing his eyes away from Mok's lips to look down at his screen.
This time, he didn't think about what a future mafia boss should want, nor did he try to guess Mok's favorite things. He just dug into the quiet, buried corners of his own heart. He typed out a single, honest sentence.
Across from him, the soft click-clack of Mok’s thumbs against his phone screen filled the space between them. It was a comfortable rhythm, a fragile peace they were building brick by brick.
After a few minutes, Rome tapped his screen with a definitive click. "Done. I've got my real number one."
Mok paused, looking up through his clear lenses. "Let's hear it then."
Rome slid his phone across the glass table, his expression a perfect picture of innocence.
Mok picked it up, his dark eyes scanning the screen through his clear glasses. As he read, his forehead slowly creased and he stared at Rome in absolute disbelief.
"Seriously?" Mok asked, his voice thick with judgement.
"What?" Rome grumbled defensively, crossing his arms. "I only wrote exactly what I want! You told me to be selfish!"
"Read this out loud," Mok said, handing the phone back with a slow shake of his head. "Listen to how ridiculous you sound."
Rome took the phone back, clearing his throat, and proceeded to read it out loud. "I want to go for a date at the amusement park, walk in the park at 2:00 AM, go for a picnic, build a lego set together, get a tattoo anddd take pictures at a photobooth camera..."
Mok raised his eyebrows, leaning forward slightly over the table. "And what about the rest of the ten items?"
"Well..." Rome paused, his eyes darting away for a split second before looking right back at Mok.
"You literally just wrote my name for numbers seven through ten!!" Mok pointed out, exasperated.
"Well... I was just being honest and selfish," Rome said, shrugging his shoulders as a small, unbothered smirk played on his lips. "You said no thinking about what the other person prefers. My top wish is just you."
Mok was completely speechless. He just stared at the boy across from him, wondering if this hopelessly affectionate, smirking 21-year-old was truly supposed to be the future heir of the feared Arseni syndicate.
"Alright, your turn," Rome demanded, leaning forward and tapping Mok’s arm. "Give me your list. I know it’s incomplete but read it out anyway."
Mok cleared his throat, his stoic defense mechanism failing him as he looked down at his own screen.
"Ice-cream tasting, a matcha workshop, flower arrangement, and... baking at 3:00 AM," Mok muttered. As the words left his mouth, a faint, undeniable blush crept up from under his collar, tinting his chest and neck.
Rome blew out a low, appreciative whistle, his eyes widening. "Wow. I never knew you had it in you..."
Mok opened his mouth to defend himself but Rome quickly waved his hands.
"Not in a bad way! It’s just... you always look so sharp, strict and cold. Who would have guessed you'd secretly enjoy such gentle, simple hobbies?" Rome paused, his expression softening as he took in the slight pink on Mok's skin and the way he wouldn't look him directly in the eye.
"But somehow... it matches you perfectly," Rome added, his voice dropping into a quiet, tender register.
"It's you. The real you."
Mok cleared his throat, shifting uncomfortably against the cushions, entirely embarrassed by the sudden spotlight on his private thoughts. "But there are only four," he deflected quickly, trying to steer the conversation back to safety. "And I don't know what to put for the rest."
"Ooh... I know," Rome spoke up, his tone suddenly dropping into an incredibly serious, profound manner. He leaned in close, his face mimicking absolute gravity.
"It's me! ROME, ROME, ROME, ROME, ROMEE..." he chanted, his solemn expression instantly fracturing into a brilliant, chaotic grin.
Mok blinked, completely caught off guard.
"Wow, Mokkk," Rome teased, drawing out his name as he playfully wriggled his eyebrows up and down. "I never knew that you wanted me so baddd?"
Mok stared at him, the blush that had just started to fade rushing back with a vengeance, burning hot against his cheeks. For a lethal bodyguard, he looked entirely defenseless against Rome’s teasing. He let out a sharp, exasperated sigh and closed his eyes for a brief second, pinching the bridge of his nose right beneath his clear glasses.
"Get your cake, krub," Mok muttered, his voice a low, warning rumble that carried zero actual weight. He picked up the paper plate and practically shoved it into Rome's hands to silence him.
"Before I change my mind and tell your brother to reschedule your flight for tomorrow."
Rome just laughed, a bright, melodic sound that filled every empty corner of the sterile guesthouse, completely unbothered by the empty threat. He took a small bite of the cake, the rich chocolate fudge a sweet distraction, but his eyes never left Mok.
As the laughter faded, the quiet room softened. Mok finally looked up through his clear glasses, his expression turning vulnerable as the teasing ground to a halt.
"They're just... things I wanted to try where I didn't have to look over my shoulder," Mok confessed quietly, his fingers tracing the edge of his phone. "Things that have absolutely nothing to do with blood or business."
The honesty in his voice struck a chord deep inside Rome. His playful demeanor dissolved, replaced by a fierce, protective warmth. He reached across the glass table, his fingers lightly tapping the top of Mok's phone.
"Then we're doing every single one of them," Rome promised, his gaze locking onto Mok's with absolute certainty. "Look at that. Six of mine, four of yours. That makes ten. We have our first ten days perfectly planned."
Mok nodded, his fingers nervously clearing the empty bento box from the table. "I'll go set up the guest bedroom for you soon..." he blabbered, his usual composure completely failing him.
Rome’s eyes suddenly widened, a lightbulb practically flashing over his head.
"I knowww!!" he yelled in excitement, putting Mok's words to a sudden halt.
Mok blinked, holding the crumpled wrapper. "What?"
"My seventh wish!" Rome announced, practically vibrating against the couch cushions.
Mok closed his eyes for a brief second, bracing himself, before gesturing with his hand for Rome to just speak.
"Well, it's still you of course, except now I know exactly what I want us to do with that slot," Rome said, his voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper before he proudly declared, "We sleep together every single night!"
Pin-drop silence immediately swallowed the room.
Rome looked bright, radiant and thoroughly pleased with his own genius mind. Meanwhile, Mok looked like his entire soul had just briefly exited his body. The sheer audacity of the future Arseni heir was a lot to process.
"I... Rome, that's..." Mok stammered, his mind racing through about fifty different protocol rules he was currently shattering.
"No excuses!" Rome cut him off, pointing a finger at him playfully but firmly. "It's my birthday and it's my wishlist anyway. You're sleeping in my room for these twenty days."
Mok didn't even argue. He couldn't. A deep, burning blush rushed up his neck, coloring his cheeks a dark pink as he looked away, utterly defeated by a 21-year-old with a chocolate-covered fork.
...soon-to-be Arseni heir.
The irony was almost laughable. The underground world feared the Arseni name because it stood for merciless executions, cold-blooded negotiations and absolute control. Yet, here was the future of that terrifying empire, sitting cross-legged on a guesthouse couch, wielding a chocolate-covered fork like a scepter and demanding bedtime cuddles.
But Mok knew what lay beneath that cheerful exterior. There was a beast sleeping within Rome, currently resting peacefully and soundly because its owner was happy and contented. If that cycle were to be disrupted, no one would ever want to face his wrath.
He could be playful, he could be cheeky and his eyes could shine as bright as the stars. But that facade could change into something else entirely at any given second.
Cold. Calculated. Dark eyes so empty and completely void of life.
Because at the end of the day, he was an Arseni. He was an heir trained ever since the day he was born to rule the underworld. Mok had witnessed glimpses of that dormant darkness before. The sharp, lethal precision that ran thick in Rome's blood, waiting for the right catalyst to awaken it completely. Hong Kong would inevitably force that beast to open its eyes.
But for now, looking at the chocolate smudge on Rome's cheek, Mok wanted nothing more than to keep that monster asleep for just twenty days longer.
Rome stood up first. He walked over to the couch where Mok was sitting, his movements slow and deliberate. The distance between them was separated only by the glass coffee table, yet in that heavy silence, it felt like the longest, most agonizing stretch of space to reach Mok.
Silently, Rome held out his hand across the table toward him. He didn't speak a single word, just stared deeply into the other’s eyes, his gaze locking onto Mok’s with an unblinking, magnetic intensity.
Mok looked at the pale hand extended toward him, then up through his clear lenses into Rome's eyes. For a long, breathless moment, the world outside the guesthouse completely ceased to exist. There was no Arseni empire, no looming flight to Hong Kong and no ticking clock. There was only the raw, unspoken pull between them.
Slowly, Mok reached out. His larger, calloused hand met Rome's, his fingers wrapping around the younger boy's with a quiet, steady pressure. He stood up, stepping around the glass barrier that separated them, closing the distance until they were standing mere inches apart.
"Let's go," Mok murmured softly, his voice a low vibration in the quiet room.
Rome smiled, a soft, genuine curve of his lips. Mok wasn’t putting his walls up tonight, and Rome couldn't have asked for anything more.
They walked hand-in-hand to Rome's bedroom, completely silent. The only sound was the quiet rustle of their clothes and the thud of their hearts beating at entirely different rhythms against the quiet of the house.
Rome’s pulse was steady and warm, anchored by the comforting weight of Mok’s fingers intertwined with his. Mok’s heart was running a little fast-paced, a rare flutter of nervous tension vibrating through his large frame, but it was slowly settling with every step they took together.
When they reached the edge of the bed, Mok gently let go of Rome's hand. The sudden lack of contact left a chilly patch on Rome's palm, but the warmth returned the moment they both slid under the heavy duvet.
The amber glow of the bedside lamps cast long, soft shadows across the room. They lay there facing each other, the space between them down to a mere few inches.
"You're really here," Rome whispered, his voice barely louder than the hum of the air conditioner.
At this impossibly close distance, Rome could see Mok's features with absolute clarity. He had seen them many times before, yes. He had observed them secretly from the back of armored cars, during long stakes and under the harsh neon lights of the family's warehouses. Yet, no matter how many times he looked, nothing ever felt like enough.
Slowly, Rome lifted his hand from beneath the covers and ran his fingertips along Mok’s face. He started at the top, tracing the smooth expanse of his forehead, before sliding down the sharp, high bridge of his nose. Finally, his fingers brushed against the soft contour of Mok's heart-shaped lips.
His thumb stopped, pressing gently onto the exact spot where a tiny, dark mole sat right near the edge of Mok's lip.
Mok didn't move away. He didn't blink. He just lay there, breathing softly, letting Rome map out his face as if it were a rare artifact. Rome knew he would never have enough words to truly describe Mok's beauty and to him, keeping that beauty hidden beneath a cold, unyielding bodyguard persona felt like an absolute crime against the world.
Mok’s eyes darkened slightly under the amber light, his hand moving under the blanket until his fingers found the hem of Rome’s shirt, gripping it lightly.
"Are you going to stare at me all night?" Mok murmured, his voice so low it was almost a rumble against the pillow.
"If it means I get to memorize you, then yes," Rome whispered back, his thumb still resting gently against Mok's lower lip.
Mok let out a soft chuckle, a rare and beautiful sound that tugged sharply at Rome's heart.
Driven by a powerful force he could easily name, Rome slid his hand around Mok's waist. He pulled the older man flush against his chest, closing the last remaining distance between them.
"Rome..." Mok muttered, his voice tightening as he tried to wiggle away out of pure habit.
"Shhh... let me hold you tonight," Rome whispered, his tone incredibly soft as his eyelids grew heavy with exhaustion. "And for the rest of the days we have remaining."
Rome leaned up slightly, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss onto Mok’s forehead.
"Goodnight, Mok," Rome murmured. He let himself sink back down into the mattress, immediately enveloped by sleep, comforted by the solid warmth of Mok's body and the steady rhythm of his heart.
"Goodnight, krubbb..." Mok said quietly. He stayed entirely still in Rome's embrace, watching the young heir’s features completely relax as he drifted off to sleep.
Rome was the first to wake up the next morning. Somehow, the morning felt completely different from any other morning before.
He was usually welcomed by a biting, cold morning, his days perfectly and rigidly arranged into endless tasks and heavy family obligations. Except today, morning came in slowly, arriving with a gentle breeze and a comforting warmth.
The transparent curtain blew softly in the room, swaying because of the morning breeze that slipped through the ajar sliding door. The sound of birds chirping outside and the sight of Mok, still sound asleep in his arms, entirely undid him.
Mok looked so defenseless without his glasses on, his long dark lashes casting soft shadows on his cheekbones. His broad frame was completely relaxed, tucked securely against Rome’s chest, his breathing slow and even. For the first time in his life, Rome didn't want to get out of bed. He just wanted to freeze this exact second, holding onto the quiet humanity of the man who spent his life protecting everyone else.
Rome tightened his grip around Mok just a fraction more, the painful memory washing over him with a sudden, dull ache.
He remembered the night he had finally broken down and asked his mother the question that had been rotting in his chest for years.
"Why are you and Dad allowed to have each other, but P'Kian and me... why are we forbidden to love?" he had sounded devastatingly broken that night. He remembered looking past his mother's shoulder to where Mok stood by the door like a statue, his face entirely void of any reaction, his eyes locked straight ahead.
His mom had fallen completely silent, probably thinking of the best, most cushioned answer she could give her youngest son.
"Don't you think that's unfair to us?" Rome had pushed, his voice cracking.
His mother had finally sighed, her eyes filled with a heavy resignation. "It's a rule that both of you must adhere to, Rome. A price that you have to pay for being an Arseni."
Right then, looking at Mok’s rigid, unreachable posture, Rome had made a silent, unyielding vow to himself.
He would grow stronger. He would climb to the very top of the syndicate and rewrite the rules of this family.
His father firmly believed that love weakened a human, making them vulnerable to enemies. But Rome knew his father was dead wrong. Love wasn't a weakness. Love was the only thing that kept him going.
It was the only thing keeping the beast inside him human.
The only thing that still held himself together as Rome Kritdanai Lee.
Mok was the anchor that kept his soul tied to his actual name, preventing the family's darkness from swallowing him whole.
As if sensing the sudden, heavy shift in Rome's mind, Mok stirred slightly in his arms. His long lashes fluttered against his cheekbones before his dark eyes slowly opened, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the transparent curtains. Without his clear glasses, his gaze was beautifully unfocused, looking up at Rome with a rare, sleepy vulnerability that no one else in the world would ever be permitted to see.
He instinctively tried to pull back to check his surroundings, but his body relaxed the second he realized he was still secured tightly against Rome's chest. "Why are you awake so early?"
Rome forced the painful memories back into the dark corners of his mind, letting a soft, reassuring smile take their place. He leaned down, brushing his lips gently against Mok’s messy morning hair.
"Just thinking about how much work we have to do today," Rome whispered playfully, his fingers tracing a light circle on Mok's lower back.
Mok laughed softly, the sound low and gravelly against Rome's skin. "Then maybe we should get started."
"We should," Rome agreed, though he lingered for a final, stubborn second before they both finally shifted and woke up from the bed.
The initial plan they had agreed on was simple. Rome would bathe first while Mok went downstairs to prepare breakfast and then they would take turns. But Rome was keeping score of the ticking clock and he did not want to miss a single chance he could get with Mok. The moment Mok turned toward the bedroom door, Rome grabbed his wrist and pulled him right into the bathroom instead.
"For a morning ritual," Rome declared smoothly, cutting off Mok's immediate look of confusion.
And so, they ended up standing side-by-side in front of the wide bathroom mirror, brushing their teeth and washing their faces together. It was such a mundane, ordinary routine, yet it felt entirely extraordinary. Rome watched their reflections, Mok, tall and focused, carefully rinsing his face with his hair pushed back and Rome, completely unable to wipe the bright grin off his own face. Standing here like a normal couple in the morning sun, the brutal weight of Hong Kong and the Arseni family felt a million miles away.
Mok turned off the tap, dabbing his face dry with a small towel before looking at Rome through the mirror. "What do you want for breakfast?" he asked, his voice still carrying that low morning rasp.
Rome spat out his toothpaste, rinsing his mouth quickly. "My usual is fine."
Mok nodded, stepping out of the bathroom first to head downstairs to the kitchen. Rome’s "usual" was a simple but specific routine. A perfectly soft-boiled egg over a slice of thick, crispy buttered sourdough toast, paired with a cup of warm honey-lemon water instead of coffee. It was light, comforting and precisely how Rome liked to start his mornings when he wasn't being forced to attend formal family brunches.
As Mok was just finishing up plating the toast, a sudden wave of warmth entered the kitchen. Rome had practically skipped downstairs, completely fresh from the shower. He hadn't even bothered to get fully dressed yet. A plush white towel was hung low on his hips, leaving his torso completely bare. His hair was still damp, sending stray water droplets trickling down the smooth skin of his neck and chest under the soft morning light.
Leaning against the kitchen counter, completely unbothered by his lack of clothes, Rome immediately started rambling about how they needed to wear matching outfits.
Mok paused, a spatula in hand, and shook his head with a faint, amused sigh. "Matching? Rome, my wardrobe consists entirely of black and grey. It's just monotonous colors."
Rome pouted, crossing his bare arms. "You are so boring, Mok."
"It's easier as a bodyguard," Mok countered smoothly, placing the plate of sourdough on the counter. "You blend into the shadows. No one notices a black suit."
"Well, you're not a shadow today," Rome said, a stubborn spark flashing in his eyes. "Okay, we definitely need a serious color upgrade for your wardrobe later today. Consider that part of the mission."
Mok looked at him in sheer confusion, his brows furrowing as he tried to imagine himself wearing anything bright or colorful. But Rome completely ignored his exasperated expression.
"We're wearing black today anyway," Rome declared with a triumphant grin. He turned on his heel and bounded right back upstairs to change, leaving a literal trail of damp footprints and water droplets on the hardwood floor behind him.
Mok stared down at the wet trails, then up at the empty staircase, a helpless, genuine smile breaking across his face. The future Arseni heir was absolute chaos but as Mok picked up a paper towel to clean the floor, he realized he wouldn't trade this chaos for anything else in the world.