Work Text:
Lately, Gemini had been overwhelmed. With schedules piling up, events that stretched late into the night, and barely any time to breathe, he was exhausted. It wasn't just physical—he needed space.
But, of course, he couldn’t take a break. The show had to go on.
So when he showed up for yet another event, running on fumes, his one comfort was knowing Fourth would be there.
Because with Fourth, it always puts him at ease. In couple events, they naturally complement each other. If one is tired, the other steps in. And if both are drained? They push through, drawing strength from each other's presence.
At the event, after getting his makeup done, the live broadcast kicks off smoothly. He and Fourth introduce themselves, engage with the audience, and promote the brand as planned. Their host for the night is Mark, who, as expected, keeps the energy up with playful banter.
That’s why he thought this event would be fine.
And at first, it was. They went through the routine—introducing themselves, explaining the product, interacting with the host. Gemini was running on autopilot, barely holding on, but Fourth was there, so it was okay.
Until it wasn't.
The host, Mark, had grinned playfully at them. "You two are so close—almost like boyfriends, huh?"
Fourth chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s just how it is.”
Mark hums, unconvinced. “But don’t you ever think about it?” His tone is different now—not just teasing, but genuinely curious. “What it means? What he means to you?”
Fourth barely hesitates before answering. “I don’t think much about it.”
It’s meant to be casual, effortless—an automatic response to a question he’s never really put into words himself. And usually, it would be enough to brush off the conversation.
But tonight, something about it lingers.
Not for him.
For Gemini.
The words land differently this time, settling in his chest with an unfamiliar weight.
But it was supposed to be nothing. Just a joke. A throwaway response.
They always do this.
In fact, Gemini had heard lots of words before, defining their relationship. It was nothing new.
People always teased, always joked. Usually, he brushed it off just as easily.
It never really mattered.
But that day—it did.
And just like that—something inside Gemini cracked.
Because Gemini thought about it.
Not always.
Not obsessively.
But in quiet moments, in stolen glances, in the way his heart felt lighter when Fourth was near—he thought about it.
About them.
And now, he wished he hadn’t.
The ride home is quiet. Too quiet.
Gemini leans his head against the car window, watching the blurred city lights rush past. He should be relieved the event is over, but instead, a strange heaviness settles in his chest.
I don’t really think about it.
Fourth’s words echo in his mind, over and over again.
He knows it was just a passing comment, a joke even—but why does it sting?
It shouldn't.
They've always been like this—easy, comfortable. Jokes about them being more than friends were nothing new.
And yet, tonight, something about Fourth’s response made him feel… dismissed.
As if all the time they spent together, all the ways they relied on each other, meant nothing more than convenience.
It’s fine. He tells himself.
I’m just tired.
Overthinking.
It’s nothing.
So he does what he does best—pushes it down, locks it away.
The next few days pass in a blur.
Gemini keeps busy, sticks to the routine.
Work, schedules, appearances—everything continues as usual. On the surface, they were still Gemini and Fourth—partners, friends, an effortless duo.
And if he seems a little quieter, a little more distant, it is not in a way anyone else would notice.
He still laughs at the right moments, still smiles when the cameras are rolling..
Except Fourth notices.
At first, it’s subtle. Small things.
Gemini doesn’t text first like he usually does. His replies are a little shorter.
During rehearsals, he nods along instead of teasing back and Gemini forgetting to wait for him after rehearsals, brushing past him a little too quickly.
At events, he stands just a little further away. It’s not obvious—just enough to pass off as exhaustion.
But Fourth knows him too well.
“Are you okay?” Fourth asks one evening, as they wait backstage for another event to start.
Fourth reached for his wrist without thinking—only for Gemini to step away, putting more distance between them than necessary.
Fourth’s stomach twisted.
Something was wrong.
And he hated it.
Gemini blinks, caught off guard. “Huh? Yeah, why?”
Fourth studies him for a moment, brows furrowed. “Dunno. You just seem… off lately.”
“I’m fine,” Gemini says, too quickly.
He flashes a reassuring smile, one he’s perfected over the years. “Just tired, I guess.”
Fourth doesn’t look convinced, but before he can push further, they’re called on stage.
The moment passes.
The distance grows.
Gemini keeps himself busy—too busy. He takes on extra rehearsals, stays longer at shoots, finds excuses to leave early.
It’s not that he’s avoiding Fourth.
At least, that’s what he tells himself.
But it gets harder to meet his eyes, harder to pretend that nothing’s changed when his own heart feels like it’s pulling away out of self-defense.
It wasn’t revenge.
He wasn’t angry.
Yet, Fourth keeps watching.
And one day, he corners Gemini after practice.
“Okay, what’s going on?” Fourth asks, stepping in front of him before he can leave.
“What?” Gemini blinks.
“Don’t play dumb” Fourth says, arms crossing. “You’ve been weird. Distant. You don’t talk to me like you used to. Did I do something?”
Gemini opens his mouth—just say no, say it’s nothing, laugh it off—but the words won’t come out.
He hesitates just a second too long, and Fourth’s expression shifts.
“You’re mad at me,” Fourth realizes, his voice quieter now.
“I’m not,” Gemini says automatically. It is the truth.
“Then what?”
Gemini exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair. “It’s nothing, Fourth. You’re overthinking.”
“That’s my line,” Fourth says, frowning. “Come on, just tell me. Did I say something? Do something?”
The concern in his voice makes Gemini’s chest tighten.
This is the part where he usually caves, where he lets Fourth in.
But this time, the wall is already up, and Gemini doesn’t know how to take it down.
How can he replies when in fact, Fourth did nothing wrong.
So instead, he forces a smile, steps past him, and mutters, “It’s nothing, Fourth. Just let it go.”
And for the first time, he walks away.
Fourth doesn’t chase after him.
Gemini half-expects him to, but he doesn’t.
Maybe that’s for the best.
Maybe now Fourth will just let it go.
The next few days, Gemini continues as usual—or at least, he tries to.
Work is work, schedules are schedules, and he has no reason to avoid Fourth when they’re literally always in the same space.
But something feels different now.
It’s quieter.
Not in a noticeable way, not in a way that anyone else would pick up on.
Fourth still laughs, still jokes, still gets along with everyone like he always does. If anything, he seems completely fine, unaffected.
He’s always been the bright one, the one who can fit in anywhere, effortlessly loved by seniors and juniors alike.
Gemini has seen it over and over again—how easily Fourth charms people, how everyone just naturally adores him.
So Gemini tells himself it’s fine. Fourth is fine.
Fourth doesn’t need him around all the time. He’s not like him, someone who fades into the background when he’s not performing.
Fourth is the type to shine, to thrive even when Gemini isn’t beside him.
Gemini needs this distance. Needs to learn not to depend on Fourth, not to hold him back, not to keep him tied to just him.
Then why does it feel so suffocating to be the one pulling away?
One night, after another packed schedule, Gemini is the last to leave the set. He tells himself he’s just taking his time, scrolling through his phone mindlessly in the dressing room, waiting for everyone to clear out so he doesn’t have to run into Fourth again.
But just as he stands up to leave, the door creaks open.
Fourth.
Gemini freezes, but Fourth just leans against the doorway, hands shoved into his pockets. He doesn’t say anything at first, just looks at him, studying him like he’s trying to read his mind.
Then, finally—
“You really won’t tell me?”
Gemini exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “Tell you what?”
Fourth tilts his head, expression unreadable. “Why you’re acting like this.”
“I’m not acting like anything.”
Fourth lets out a short laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Yeah? So you just suddenly don’t want to talk to me anymore?”
“I am talking to you.”
“Not the way you used to.” Fourth steps closer, his voice quieter now. “Not the way I know you do when something’s wrong.”
Gemini looks away.
Fourth sighs, rubbing his temple. “Is it really that bad?”
“What?”
“Whatever it is that made you act like this. Whatever I did that made you put up this wall.” His voice is calm, but there’s something heavy beneath it. “Is it really that bad that you can’t just tell me?”
Gemini swallows. He doesn’t know how to answer that.
Because no, it’s not bad.
It’s not even Fourth’s fault.
It’s just—him.
His own feelings, his own stupid reaction to something that shouldn’t have mattered.
“I told you, it’s nothing.” His voice comes out quieter than intended.
Fourth stares at him for a long moment. Then, finally, he lets out a breath, stepping back.
“Okay,” he says. Not angrily, not frustrated—just… resigned.
And somehow, that’s worse.
Fourth turns to leave, and Gemini should let him go. That’s what he wanted, right? To create space. To stop feeling this way.
But before he can stop himself, his fingers twitch, his mouth opens—
“Fourth.”
Fourth halts, turning slightly.
Gemini hesitates. He wants to say something, anything to close the distance he created.
But when he meets Fourth’s eyes, the words won’t come.
So instead, all he manages is a weak—
“Goodnight.”
Fourth holds his gaze for a second longer. Then, with a small nod, he says—
“Goodnight, Gemini.”
And just like that, he’s gone.
Gemini stands there, staring at the door long after it’s closed, the weight of his own silence pressing heavy on his chest.
Fourth isn’t stupid.
He notices everything—every shift in Gemini’s behavior, every subtle way he pulls away, every damn wall he’s been putting up between them.
And the worst part? Fourth doesn’t even know why.
Gemini keeps saying it’s nothing. Keeps acting like he’s fine. But Fourth can tell—he’s not.
At first, he tried to convince himself it was fine. That maybe Gemini just needed space.
But the longer it went on, the worse it got.
Because losing Gemini like this hurt more than anything else.
And that would’ve been enough to drive him crazy already.
And then came the final blow—Prom.
Now, as he watches Gemini actually smile—like, really smile—for the first time in days… all because of Prom?
Yeah. That’s something else entirely.
It happens during a casual team gathering, just a small dinner after a long filming day.
Fourth hadn’t expected much out of it—just the usual laughs, good food, some teasing here and there.
But then Prom—of course, Prom—starts telling some ridiculous story, and for the first time in what feels like forever, Gemini actually laughs.
Not a small chuckle. Not one of those polite smiles he’s been throwing around lately.
A real, full, bright laugh.
The kind that makes his shoulders shake, the kind that catches people’s attention because damn, when was the last time Gemini laughed like that?
Fourth watches from across the table, chopsticks frozen mid-air.
He tells himself it’s fine. That it’s good Gemini is laughing.
He’s been acting so distant lately, so closed off, and Fourth has been racking his brain trying to figure out what changed.
So if Prom is the one who makes him laugh, then fine. That’s good. Great, even.
Yet, why does Fourth feel like punching something?
Why does something in his chest tighten every time he sees Gemini lean closer, shaking his head with that amused, almost giddy expression?
Why does it bother him that Gemini won’t even look his way when he’s been trying so damn hard to get a reaction from him for days?
“Someone looks jealous.”
Fourth nearly chokes on his drink.
Mark smirks at him, clearly entertained. “Relax, man. Prom isn’t stealing your boyfriend.”
Fourth glares. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
Mark just raises a brow. “Right. And yet, you’ve been staring daggers at him for the past five minutes.”
Fourth scowls but doesn’t bother denying it. Instead, he crosses his arms, leaning back in his chair. “It’s just weird.”
“What is?”
“That Gemini’s suddenly fine. Laughing like that.” He glances back at them, watching as Prom leans in to say something else, earning another grin from Gemini. “He’s been acting off for days, but now, all of a sudden—”
“It’s just Prom’s magic, man,” Mark interrupts, grinning. “Some people have that effect.”
Fourth rolls his eyes. “Annoying effect, more like.”
Mark snickers. “Or maybe,” he drawls, nudging Fourth’s arm, “you just don’t like that Gemini is happy without you.”
Fourth stiffens. “That’s not—”
“Oh, please. I know that look. You’re jealous.”
“I’m not—”
“Yeah, yeah.” Mark waves him off. “Anyway, instead of sulking, maybe go do something about it?”
Fourth doesn’t respond. Because, honestly?
He doesn’t know what to do about it.
By the time dinner ends, Gemini still hasn’t said much to him.
Fourth debates saying something—anything—before they leave, but Gemini is quick to slip out, casually chatting with Prom as they head toward the parking lot.
Fourth watches them go, jaw tightening.
Fine.
If Gemini wants distance, if he wants to act like nothing’s wrong, then fine.
But if he thinks Fourth is just going to sit back and accept it?
He’s dead wrong.
It starts small.
At first, Fourth keeps it subtle. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t confront Gemini outright.
But he makes himself impossible to ignore.
He starts showing up more, standing closer than necessary, finding excuses to pull Gemini’s attention away from Prom.
When Prom cracks a joke? Fourth laughs louder, leans into Gemini, bumps their shoulders together like they used to.
When Prom suggests heading somewhere after work? Fourth suddenly has plans—which, conveniently, include Gemini.
And when Prom casually reaches out to fix Gemini’s hair—just a quick, friendly gesture—Fourth doesn’t think. Doesn’t hesitate.
He reaches out and beats him to it.
It’s childish, maybe. Petty.
But Fourth doesn’t care.
Because this? This is his place.
And if Gemini thinks he can just push him away—
Then Fourth will pull him back in.
It takes a few days before Gemini finally notices.
Not just notices—but actually realizes what’s happening.
And Fourth knows the exact moment it clicks.
Because one second, Gemini is rolling his eyes at something Prom is saying—completely normal, completely fine.
And the next? His gaze flickers toward Fourth. Lingers.
“…What are you doing?”
Fourth smirks. “What do you mean?”
Gemini narrows his eyes. “Don’t act dumb.”
Fourth leans in, just a little. “I never do.”
Gemini glares. And okay—yeah, maybe he looks a little annoyed. Maybe a little frustrated.
But he’s here. He’s looking at Fourth, talking to him, not ignoring him.
So yeah. Fourth considers this a win.
For now.
And the thing is, Gemini isn’t the only one catching on.
Mark pulls Fourth aside later, arms crossed, expression exasperated.
“Okay,” he says. “I have to ask.”
Fourth raises an eyebrow. “Ask what?”
Mark gives him a look. “Are you trying to claim Gemini or something?”
Fourth snorts. “Claim? He’s not a piece of property.”
Mark groans. “You know what I mean.” He crosses his arms. “You’re being obvious.”
Fourth shrugs. “Good.”
Mark stares. “You want Gemini to notice?”
Fourth meets his gaze, steady. “Yeah.”
Mark exhales. “Damn. You’re really not letting this go, huh?”
Fourth smirks. “Not a chance.”
Because this time, he’s not waiting.
It happens slowly. At first, Gemini tells himself he’s imagining it.
That Fourth isn’t actually hovering around him more than usual.
That Fourth isn’t actually inserting himself between him and Prom at every opportunity.
That Fourth isn’t making it so hard for him to ignore.
But then Fourth starts making it obvious.
And now, Gemini feels stuck in a situation he never meant to create.
“Hey, let’s go together.”
Gemini glances up just as Prom falls into step beside him.
They’ve been spending more time together lately—not on purpose or anything, it just… happened.
The more Fourth pulled away, the easier it was to gravitate toward Prom.
And Prom, well. He’s just easy to be around.
He doesn’t ask questions Gemini doesn’t want to answer. Doesn’t press when Gemini zones out.
He’s just there, casually filling the spaces Fourth used to occupy.
And maybe that’s why it takes Gemini a second to realize—
Fourth is standing a few steps away, watching.
Expression unreadable. Eyes sharp.
And that’s when Gemini realizes.
Fourth is making him choose.
And it’s frustrating.
Because Gemini doesn’t want to choose.
Doesn’t want to be forced into this, doesn’t want to think about what it means.
But Fourth isn’t giving him a choice.
And worse—he already knows his answer.
Because as much as Prom has been a great friend—someone fun, someone who makes him laugh—
Fourth is… Fourth.
The one who’s been there since day one. The one who’s seen him at his worst, his best, everything in between.
The one who, no matter how much space Gemini tries to put between them, still feels like home.
Because, honestly?
There was never really a choice at all.
It is another long night, another packed schedule, another dinner where everyone is loud and laughing and Fourth is sitting way too close, his thigh pressed against Gemini’s under the table like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
Gemini should be used to it by now.
But he’s not.
Not when Fourth shifts just slightly, leaning in as he murmurs, “You good?”—voice quiet, just for him, like it always is.
Not when Gemini nods and pretends he doesn’t feel the warmth creeping up his neck.
Not when Prom, sitting across from them, smirks and raises a brow, like he knows exactly what’s going on.
And certainly not when Mark, ever the instigator, decides to make things worse.
“So, Gemini,” he drawls, grinning. “How’s it feel to have Fourth all over you again?”
Fourth snorts. “What do you mean ‘again’? I was never not.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Mark hums. “There was a while there where you guys were… different.”
The table goes quiet for a beat.
Gemini forces a laugh, waving him off. “You’re imagining things.”
“Am I?” Mark glances at Fourth. “What do you think?”
Fourth doesn’t answer right away.
Gemini risks a glance and—yeah.
There’s something there.
Something in the way Fourth is watching him, eyes unreadable, fingers drumming lightly against the table like he’s deciding something.
And then, like it’s the easiest thing in the world—
“I think I got tired of pretending,” Fourth says simply.
Gemini’s breath catches.
The conversation shifts after that, the others moving on like nothing happened, but Gemini—Gemini feels like the entire ground just tilted beneath him.
Because Fourth doesn’t clarify.
Doesn’t explain.
Doesn’t take it back.
And Gemini—
He doesn’t think he wants him to.
As always, Fourth got dragged out by the others to have fun.
Before leaving, he glanced at Gemini. “Wait for me?”
Gemini simply nodded, a silent confirmation. He didn’t complain, didn’t ask when Fourth would be back. Just a nod.
Fourth hesitated for a second but let it go, following the others out.
Time ticked by, and as expected, Gemini started feeling drowsy. It wasn’t unusual—he always made sure to get his full hours of sleep.
He checked his phone. No messages.
It wasn’t like he was waiting for one. But still.
The longer Fourth stayed out, the more his mind wandered.
Wasn’t it tiring? Always chasing after Fourth when he never had to chase after anyone?
Fourth had so many people—so many that could fill his night with noise, laughter, and drunken confessions.
Did it really make a difference if Gemini was there or not?
A thought surfaced, uninvited.
"I don’t think much about it."
Fourth had said that once. About their back-and-forth, about the way they gravitated toward each other without effort.
At the time, Gemini had let it slide, but now, in the quiet of the night, it lingered.
He shouldn’t overthink it.
Right?
Eventually, he got up, grabbed his things, and left without a word.
2 AM.
The insistent beeping of the keypad pulled Gemini out of sleep. The sound repeated, frantic and sloppy.
He sat up, rubbing his eyes before dragging himself to the door.
Checked the screen.
Fourth.
Drunk.
Gemini exhaled through his nose, unlocking the door. Fourth stumbled in, reeking of alcohol and whatever bad decisions he’d made tonight.
He barely managed to toe off his shoes before nearly collapsing into Gemini’s shoulder.
“Idiot,” Gemini muttered but didn’t push him away. Instead, he guided Fourth inside slowly, forcing him to sit while he grabbed a towel and a bottle of water.
Fourth mumbled something incoherent.
“Shut up and drink,” Gemini said, shoving the bottle into his hands.
Fourth obeyed, though sluggishly, eyes barely staying open. When he was somewhat settled, Gemini sighed, helping him into bed before sliding in next to him—something that wasn’t unusual for them. They’d crashed at each other’s places more times than he could count.
Still, as he lay there, staring at the ceiling, that thought came back.
"I don’t think much about it."
Gemini closed his eyes.
Maybe he shouldn’t either.
Morning.
Fourth groaned, blinking against the sunlight. His head pounded, and his mouth was dry. He turned slightly—and froze.
Gemini was still there, curled up next to him, head resting on his arm.
His expression was peaceful, his breathing even. Fourth stared, something warm and heavy settling in his chest.
It was such a rare sight—Gemini, still and vulnerable.
A wave of something unspoken settled in Fourth’s chest.
His mind was hazy, but last night flickered back in pieces—the keypad, Gemini’s quiet care, the weight of silence between them.
And then, as if sensing the gaze, Gemini stirred, eyes fluttering open.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Then Fourth broke the silence.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?” Fourth asked, voice sharp. It wasn’t meant to come out so harsh, but the frustration had been bubbling since last night.
Gemini blinked at him, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “What?”
“You left.” Fourth sat up, his movements rigid. “You just went home instead of waiting. And you didn’t call.”
Gemini frowned slightly. “Why would I? You had people with you.”
Fourth clenched his jaw, frustration spilling over. “Because I wanted you to be there.”
Gemini gave him a blank look, as if Fourth wasn’t making sense. “You were having fun. I didn’t want to get in your way.”
Fourth let out a sharp breath, running a hand through his hair before snapping, “You don’t get in my way.”
Gemini exhaled, rubbing his face. “What do you want me to say? You were having fun. You don’t need me there.”
Fourth’s frown deepened. “That’s—What? Since when do you think like that?”
Gemini shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “It’s not that complicated.”
Fourth scoffed, irritation flaring. “No, it is. Because you’re acting weird, and I don’t get why.”
Silence.
Then Gemini finally looked at him. “You once said you ‘don’t think much about it, remember?” His voice was quiet, but there was an edge to it. “So, I stopped thinking much about us too.”
Fourth froze.
It took him a second to piece together what Gemini meant—what he was referring to.
"I don’t think much about it."
Had he really said that?
And had Gemini really—misunderstood it this way?
Fourth inhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair. He felt an odd mix of frustration, guilt, and something else that sat heavy in his chest.
“You—” He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. “You think I don’t care? That it doesn’t make a difference whether you’re there or not?”
Gemini’s breath hitched slightly, but he masked it well.
A beat passed.
Gemini shifted, the sheets rustling as he sat up, already preparing to put distance between them again.
He wasn’t sure why—maybe he needed space, maybe he needed time, or maybe he just wasn’t ready to hear more.
But before he could move any further, a firm hand wrapped around his wrist.
Not too tight, not painful—just strong.
Fourth’s grip was steady, unyielding. Despite his smaller hands, he was strong—annoyingly strong, thanks to all those hours he spent at the gym.
“Where are you going?” Fourth’s voice was low, but there was an edge to it—frustration, maybe even a hint of desperation. “You’re always running.”
Gemini swallowed, his pulse thrumming beneath Fourth’s hold. “I’m not—”
Fourth pulled him back, not roughly, but with enough force to make a point. “Yeah, you are.” His eyes locked onto Gemini’s, dark and unwavering. “Every time I try to reach you, you slip away. Even when I’m right here—especially when I’m right here.”
Gemini’s breath hitched, but he didn’t say anything.
And then, without warning, Fourth pulled him in.
Gemini gasped as he was yanked forward, stumbling slightly, but before he could protest, Fourth’s lips crashed onto his.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful.
It was frustrated, desperate—the kind of kiss that stole the breath from his lungs.
Gemini’s hands instinctively pressed against Fourth’s chest, whether to push him away or steady himself, he wasn’t sure.
But Fourth wasn’t letting him go, not this time. One hand tangled in Gemini’s shirt, holding him close, while the other stayed wrapped around his wrist, as if afraid that the second he let go, Gemini would disappear again.
The kiss was relentless, demanding, but somewhere beneath the intensity, there was something else—something raw, something real.
And it made Gemini’s head spin.
By the time Fourth finally pulled back, both of them were breathless, their foreheads nearly touching.
Gemini stared at him, wide-eyed, his lips still tingling. “What—”
“You’re not just someone to me,” Fourth murmured, his voice low and rough. “I need you to get that.” His thumb brushed over the inside of Gemini’s wrist, slow and deliberate. “I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I just care that you’re here.”
Fourth let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You think I don’t care? That I don’t think about us?” His voice dropped, softer now.
“You’re the first person I look for in a room, Gemini. I don’t care about drinking or partying or whatever—I go because they ask. But I enjoy it when you’re with me. That’s what makes it fun.” He shook his head.
“Last night, when I came back and—” He gestured between them, frustration evident in his tight grip on the sheets. “You weren’t there.”” His voice softened, almost hesitant. “I just… I just want you to be there.”
Gemini watched him for a moment, silent. Then, finally, he spoke. “You never told me that.”
Fourth scoffed. “Well, it should’ve been obvious.”
“No, it wasn’t.” Gemini’s voice was calm, but there was something else beneath it. “You always go out when they ask. You never say no. You look like you’re having fun. So how was I supposed to know?” He exhaled, his grip tightening slightly. “It felt like I was holding you back, like I was the one limiting you. And I didn’t want that.”
Fourth opened his mouth, then closed it.
Gemini sighed, shaking his head. “I didn’t leave to hurt you, Fourth. I just thought... you didn’t need me there.” His fingers tightening in Fourth’s shirt.
Gemini glanced down at his wrist, where Fourth’s grip remained firm—strong enough that it might leave marks soon.
Without breaking contact, Gemini shifted, lying back against Fourth—his head nestled into the crook of Fourth’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent.
It is their usual snuggle position, instinctive and grounding, as if they belonged there.
No words needed.
Fourth let out a shaky breath, his grip on Gemini’s wrist loosening, fingers sliding down to lace through his instead. “Idiot,” he muttered, voice thick with frustration and something far more fragile underneath. “I always need you there.”
Gemini hummed against his skin, the vibration sending a shiver down Fourth’s spine. “You should’ve just said that earlier,” he murmured, his breath warm against Fourth’s neck.
Fourth scoffed, his free hand coming up to tangle in Gemini’s hair. “You should stop running away.”
Gemini shifted slightly, pressing closer. “Then stop giving me reasons to.”
Silence stretched between them, but this time, it wasn’t heavy—it was warm, filled with the quiet understanding that had always existed between them, just unspoken until now.
Fourth squeezed Gemini’s hand, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. “Stay.”
Gemini’s fingers tightened in response, his lips barely brushing against Fourth’s collarbone as he whispered, “I’m here.”
And this time, neither of them let go.