"I do!"
Callen said immediately, almost tripping over Adrian's slower words.
"He clearly likes me more anyway."
Adrian's jaw clenched, his voice gravelly with irritation as he pushed himself a fraction upright.
"You're pathetic. You can't even stand without whining, yet you expect him to haul your sorry ass first? Yu…"
His dark eyes cut toward him, sharp beneath his sweat-mussed hair.
"Help me instead."
Yu sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as both men stared at him like he was about to crown a victor.
"You two are children."
Still, he lifted his hand, finger pointing from Callen to Adrian, back and forth, lips moving as he recited softly.
"Eeny… meeny… miny… moe…"
He landed squarely on Callen.
The blond's grin lit up his flushed, tired face.
"Ha! See? Fate says it's me, grandpa."
Adrian growled under his breath, shifting as though he might rise anyway, only to freeze with a hiss of pain. Yu ignored them both, slipping Callen's arm over his shoulders. Callen leaned into him a little too eagerly, his smug smirk flashing at Adrian as Yu half-dragged him toward his bedroom.
But the moment Yu opened the door, his steps faltered. His eyes widened, his lips parted in outright horror.
"Callen…"
Yu's voice was sharp.
"What. Is. This!?"
The room was a landfill. Dirty clothes carpeted the floor, papers and books littered every surface, plates piled precariously high like a leaning tower, and in the far corner—an ominous mound of trash bags. Somehow, miraculously, the air didn't reek, but the sight alone was enough to make Yu's blood pressure spike.
He helped Callen stumble to his bed, wrinkling his nose as he brushed a sweater off the pillow.
"Lie down."
Callen collapsed back with a sheepish laugh, scratching the back of his head.
"Okay, okay, so I'm not exactly… tidy."
Yu turned, fire sparking in his hazel eyes. He jabbed a finger toward Callen like a stern mother catching her child red-handed.
"Stay put. Don't you dare move. I'll be right back—and then I'm cleaning this disaster before I let you breathe another second in it."
Before Callen could even argue—or grin that infuriating grin—Yu spun on his heel and trotted off to fetch Adrian, muttering under his breath about irresponsible roommates and impending cleaning marathons.
Callen lay sprawled in his landfill of a room, watching Yu storm out with that sharp, scolding glare still etched on his face. And instead of shame, Callen felt… smug.
He remembered his mother once laughing that unless he married a maid or a neat freak, he'd end up buried alive in his own trash. Now, staring after Yu's retreating figure, he thought.
'How lucky am I that he's like this?'
The image popped, unbidden, into his mind.
Yu in a frilly French maid outfit, stockings hugging those long legs, a feather duster in hand. His groin twitched painfully against the soreness of his body. Callen groaned, running a hand over his face.
'Seriously? After last time? My muscles are already screaming, and I still want to…'
He cut the thought short, unnerved at just how badly his body still ached for Yu.
---
Meanwhile, Yu slipped his smaller frame under Adrian's arm, bracing himself as best he could. Adrian was heavier than Callen—broad shoulders and a sturdier build—and Yu stumbled every other step beneath the weight, especially when going up the stairs. Still, determination carried him through.
By the time they reached Adrian's door, Yu nudged it open with his hip and blinked in surprise.
Unlike Callen's disaster, Adrian's room was tidy, almost austere. A clean desk, bed neatly made, books lined in order. Yu sighed in relief… until his eyes landed in the far corner.
A mountain of clothes, haphazardly piled.
Yu narrowed his eyes.
"…Really?"
Adrian stiffened, his ears going red.
"I… don't know how to do laundry."
He admitted, voice low, almost boyish in its embarrassment.
Yu stared for a moment, then let out a long sigh, shaking his head.
"At least I can see the floor in here. That's something."
Guiding Adrian carefully to his bed, Yu eased him down onto the mattress. He tugged the blanket up over his frame and straightened.
"I'll help with the laundry after I finish cleaning Callen's landfill. So dinner is going to be late today."
Adrian's lips tugged into a small smile despite the soreness twisting through his body. He flushed as his dark brown eyes lingered on Yu fussing over him, smoothing the blanket into place.
"Thank you."
He murmured, voice weighted with something more than gratitude.
Yu missed the look entirely, already turning on his heel, muttering under his breath about grown men and their inability to clean after themselves.
Adrian lay back against his pillows, the soreness in his body a constant throb, but his mind wasn't on his aches. It was on Yu.
That boy—small, radiant, maddening—had carried him here, fussed over him, tucked him in as if Adrian were something fragile. The warmth in his chest was foreign, dangerous. He wanted to keep that warmth. No—he wanted to keep Yu.
The thought slid naturally into place:
Marrying him. Making Yu his wife. His home. His everything.
But then, the shadow of his family's crest loomed in his mind. The Yakuza clan that had raised him, blood-soaked and ruthless, would never approve. They wouldn't care that Yu cooked and cleaned, that Yu soothed the sharp edges of his life like no one else could. To them, Yu would be nothing more than an "inconvenience."
It was because he felt trapped in an unwanted role of the next clan head that he had escaped his home and went abroad to study. He chose his major, law—the complete opposite of the life he had lived for twenty-seven years—to wash away the filth he's done. To, in a way, make amends and live a life he can be proud of, in the light rather than in the ugly darkness of the underworld.
Adrian's jaw tightened. However, if anyone tried to keep Yu from him—anyone at all—they'd vanish. Permanently. While he didn't partake in the activities of the underworld, he still kept in contact with those who proved to still be useful. That was the one benefit of the world he'd been born into:
No one dared to question when someone "disappeared."
He exhaled slowly, eyes drifting shut, but the vow burned like fire in his chest.
'No one will take him from me. No one.'
---
Meanwhile, Yu had changed into his battle gear for the evening:
An old oversized shirt, stained from years of wear, and baggy sweatpants that had seen better days. His hair was tied loosely, a cleaning caddy in one hand and a mop in the other.
Callen's room greeted him like a war zone.
Yu got to work, his small body moving with surprising energy. Plates and bowls stacked high on the desk and floor were collected and carried out, placed in the sink to deal with later. Trash overflowed from the bin, spreading into heaps across the floor, and Yu stuffed them into new bags one by one until the stench of stale crumbs and soda was replaced with faint lemon cleaner.
Books and papers—some bent, some half-buried—were stacked neatly, organized into piles. Socks that looked like they'd died twice were shoved into the laundry basket. Piece by piece, the chaos was stripped away, revealing the bones of a room that could actually be lived in.
As he wiped surfaces and mopped the floors, Yu's thoughts ran restless.
'They gave me this energy. More than that. And I nearly…'
His chest tightened at the memory of Adrian's unconscious face, of Callen trembling in exhaustion.
'This is the least I can do. Repaying tit for tat.'
But when his gaze slid back to Callen—propped weakly against the fluffy pillows, watching him with wide eyes—something twisted warmer inside him. Something domestic. Something dangerous.
Callen's heart pounded as he watched Yu fuss with the mop, his small frame darting from task to task, transforming filth into order. No one had ever done this for him without some form of payment. No one had wanted to. He thought of his mother's words again, about needing someone to save him from his own mess, and for once, he thought maybe he'd ended up using all the luck he's accumulated in all his life to have been able to meet someone like Yu.
And for the first time, Callen didn't just want to fuck Yu. He wanted to keep him.
Callen lay sprawled on his bed, still sore, but his eyes never left Yu. The way he moved through the disaster zone that was his room—determined, patient, muttering little sighs of frustration as he bent and wiped and straightened—was hypnotic.
He wasn't just watching Yu clean. He was watching Yu care.
And it shook something loose inside him. Callen had always coasted—half effort, half charm, always letting the mess pile up because someone else would deal with it. But no one had. Not really. Until Yu.
Yu looked so small, so delicate in his baggy old clothes, yet somehow he had filled every corner of this filthy room with his presence, with light. Callen's body burned with more than lust now. It was need. Possessive, raw, terrifying need.
'I don't just want to fuck him again…'
He admitted to himself.
'I want him here.'
'Every morning. Every night. I want this mess to always be his mess to fix, mine to share with him.'
The thought was so domestic it scared him—but it was also addictive.
When Yu finally set the mop aside, wiping sweat from his brow, he turned to Callen with a pointed look.
"This room…"
Yu's hazel eyes narrowed, a mix of exhaustion and irritation.
"You let it pile up like this. Honestly, I don't know how you even live like this."
Callen tried to grin, tried to play it off, but Yu cut him off before he could get a word in.
"I've cleaned most of it, but now I need to go help Adrian. He has his own mess I gotta deal with now."
The words stung like a slap. Adrian.
Jealousy flared hot in Callen's chest. He pushed himself upright, desperate to keep Yu here, to keep him from walking straight into Adrian's room. But the instant he moved, his muscles shrieked in protest, white-hot pain lancing down his arms and legs, forcing him to collapse back onto the mattress with a strangled groan.
Yu's sharp sigh was soft but firm.
"I told you to lay down and rest. Don't even think about moving. I'll bring in break—uh dinner soon."
Callen's jaw clenched as Yu turned toward the door, his back glowing faintly in the dim light. He wanted to call him back, to demand his attention, to tell him Adrian didn't deserve it. But his voice caught in his throat, drowned out by the ache of his body.
The last thing he saw before the door shut was Yu's small frame disappearing down the hall, leaving him with the echo of his own jealousy and the bitter taste of helplessness.
Callen lay flat on his back, his breath shallow from the stabbing ache in his muscles, but his mind refused to rest. Every time he closed his eyes, the hazy reel of last night flickered behind his lids—Yu's flushed face, the way his small body trembled and shivered between them, the glow in his hazel eyes.
But one memory burned sharper than the rest.
Yu clinging to Adrian. Not just to his strength, but to his tattoos. Callen saw it—clear as day—Yu's lips dragging along those colorful-inked lines, his fingers trembling as they traced the bold designs carved into Adrian's skin. The look in Yu's eyes when they caught the light over Adrian's tattooed chest, over the dark swirls covering his arms…
It wasn't lust alone. It was hunger. Thrill.
Jealousy roared in Callen's chest, hotter than before.
'That bastard… he already has Yu's attention with his stupid tattoos.'
He almost laughed, but the ache in his ribs cut it short. Instead, a darker thought seeped in.
'Is Yu… turned on by tattoos?'
The image of Yu's flushed lips grazing Adrian's shoulder struck like a knife. Callen's eyes widened. His groin twitched despite the soreness screaming at him.
'Shit. If that's what he wants… maybe I should…'
A tattoo. The thought clung to him, absurd and desperate, but it stuck all the same.
'If that's what it takes to keep him looking at me in that way… mom won't mind… right?'
Callen's jealousy gnawed as Yu's footsteps faded down the hall.
---
Yu knocked softly on Adrian's door before pushing it open. Unlike Callen's chaos, Adrian's room had order—even if that pile of untouched laundry betrayed him.
"Adrian."
Yu called gently, stepping in with an extra empty laundry bin he'd fetched earlier.
"Time to get you sorted."
Adrian shifted in bed, propped against the headboard, his dark eyes following every movement Yu made. The soreness still held his body, but unlike Callen's grumbling defiance, Adrian welcomed Yu's fussing with quiet submission.
Yu bent, lifting the laundry pile and sorting it quickly, muttering under his breath about fabric types and colors. He moved with the same easy rhythm he'd had in Callen's room, though here, his exasperation softened into something almost tender.
Adrian watched, heat stirring beneath the soreness in his muscles. Yu wasn't just cleaning. He was tending. His small frame carrying the weight of their chaos, balancing their worlds.
"Yu…"
Adrian said quietly, his voice low, warm, almost reverent.
"You don't have to do all this for me."
Yu glanced back, shirt slipping off one shoulder as he straightened.
"Of course I do. I mean, after all you two went through…with me… This is the least I can do."
Adrian's chest tightened. He wanted to reach out, to claim Yu's hand, to pull him closer and tell him he didn't want just "the least." He wanted all.
But instead, he simply smiled faintly, letting Yu bustle around his space with that soft domestic touch, while a dangerous vow built quietly beneath his ribs.
'No one else will take him from me.'
Adrian lay still against the pillows, letting Yu move around his room, quiet and efficient. His eyes tracked the boy's every movement—the way his hair slipped loose when he bent, the faint rise and fall of his shoulders, the faint hum of some tune under his breath.
Unlike Callen, Adrian didn't stew in loud jealousy or petty competitiveness. His envy was quieter, colder, sharper. It didn't gnaw like fire—it seeped like ink, soaking deeper each time he saw Yu smile at someone else.
'Callen doesn't deserve him. He doesn't even know how to pick up his own trash and is completely too immature, even though he's a year older then Yu. He'll disappoint Yu sooner or later. And Theo…'
Adrian's hand curled into the sheets at the thought.
'Theo can easily be handled. I don't think Yu has strong feelings for him. So I still have a chance…'
Adrian's chest burned, not with rage, but with possession. His family had raised him to take, to keep, to never let go of what was his. And Yu… every domestic gesture, every glance, every softened scold, made Adrian's conviction swell.
'Yu isn't just cleaning up after me. He's choosing me. Every time he folds my shirts, every time he sets my plate, every time he loosens my tie—he's weaving himself into me. Piece by piece.'
A flicker of fear sparked beneath the possessiveness.
'But what then when he leaves? What if France takes him from me?'
His jaw tightened. The thought alone made his pulse throb dangerously. He had power. He had resources. If he wanted, no border, no plane ticket, no rival could keep Yu from his side.
He let the thought linger, dangerous and alluring, as Yu bustled about, finishing the laundry prep.
---
Yu gathered the bundles with a soft sigh, shifting them into the laundry room. He set the machine to run and let the hum fill the quiet space before returning to the kitchen. Callen's old dishes clattered into the sink, suds rising as he scrubbed them down.
It was soothing, almost grounding, the domestic rhythm of cleaning and cooking. Something light, nutritious, soft on the stomach—that's what he decided. A simple broth with rice and vegetables, eggs, something easy to digest in their weakened state.
But as he stirred the pot, his phone he'd set on the counter to charge buzzed. Then buzzed again. Over and over. He reached over to it with damp fingers, his heart plummeting as he saw the screen. Over fifty messages from Joy and Izan, stacked like a tower.
His chest tightened. Guilt, sharp and suffocating, wrapped around him. He swallowed hard, hand trembling as he pressed the call button.
The answer was immediate.
"YU!"
Joy's voice cracked through the speaker, ragged and full of tears.
"Where have you been?! Do you have any idea how worried I was about you?!"
Yu froze, wooden spoon in hand, broth steaming. His lips parted but no words came, only the rush of warmth in his chest and the sting of shame behind his eyes.
"Where have you been?!"
Joy's voice hit so loud Yu had to pull the phone back from his ear.
"All of yesterday—you vanished! And now it's nearly evening the next day! Do you want me to die from worry?!"
Yu winced, spoon still frozen in the pot.
"Joy, calm down, please… I'm sorry. Really. I should've called sooner."
"Should've?!"
She hiccupped through the tears, then sniffled, voice still trembling.
"I was going to call the police! I was about to storm your house! Yu!"
"I wasn't ignoring you."
Yu soothed, soft but steady.
"It's just… my roommates… aren't in the best shape. Both of them. I've been stuck at home taking care of them. That's all."
He gave a rueful little chuckle.
"Honestly, it feels like babysitting. You don't need to worry."
There was a pause—Joy's breath catching on the other end, wavering between relief and lingering panic.
"…Sick?"
"They look like they're dying, heh."
Yu said gently.
"So I'll be home for a while. But—"
He tried to pivot, searching for lightness.
"Since I'm grounded here anyway, we can always video call. We can still do the runway assignment, even if I can't come over in person."
Another pause. Then a sniffle brightened into a spark.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
Yu smiled despite himself.
"As long as you still want to help. I know we'll get through this together."
Joy's tone steadied.
"Then I'm adding Izan right now."
Before Yu could ask why, the call clicked, doubled, and Izan's voice came through, calm but wary.
"…Hello?"
"IZAN!"
Joy burst, already charging ahead.
"Yu said he's stuck at home because his roommates are sick but he still needs help with the runway assignment, so we're doing video calls from now on!"
"…I see."
Izan's voice carried a softer weight, less frantic, more measured.
Yu quickly cut in before Joy could snowball further.
"And—hey, Izan. Actually, we could do the same for our Rome project too. That way we can set up calls and work without falling behind. Is that okay instead?"
There was a pause on Izan's end. Then, faintly,
"…Alright. Actually that works out better since I just picked up some extra shifts at the daycare."
Yu exhaled, tension easing just a little as he stirred the broth again, the rising steam carrying him through. At least for now, he had diffused Joy's storm.
"Actually Joy, Izan, I'm kind of in the middle of making dinner for Callen and Adrian, can I call you back?"
"Wahh! But I just—"
"Joy, let's give Yuvin some time to tend to his roommates. Meanwhile, I'm still here."
"W-wha—I umm, yeah okay! Bye Yu, take all the time you need hehe!"
Yu chuckled as he hung up his side of the phone call. He just knew Joy was blushing and flustered behind her phone. Thanks to Izan, he now has more time to care for his boys.
His delicate hands diligently plated the porridge into two bowls and began to take out two bed trays from the bottom cabinet. Then began setting up the trays with each of the men's food.
He balanced the first bed tray carefully, the steam of the rice porridge curling against his cheeks as he padded first into Adrian's room. Adrian blinked groggily up at him, muscles still stiff, but when Yu coaxed him into eating bite after bite, the tension drained from his tattooed frame. By the time the last spoonful slid past his lips, his lashes were already lowering, his head sinking back against the pillows. Yu quietly placed the empty bowl on the tray, brushing a damp cloth over Adrian's forehead before whispering softly.
"Sleep."
Next was Callen. The blond tried to crack a joke about being treated like an invalid but one taste of the porridge shut him up—his eyes softened, lips tugged into something quiet and grateful. He ate until Yu took the spoon away, pouting a little before promptly dozing off mid-grumble. Yu chuckled under his breath, tugging the blanket up to his chin.
Alone again, Yu gathered the bowls, washed them, then threw together a sandwich for himself, half-distractedly reaching for a jar of pickles and a slice of cheese at the same time.
'Great.'
He thought dryly as he crunched,
'Pregnancy cravings already starting to look like chaos.'
By the time the dryer whirred to life with the men's clothes, Yu had set himself up in his room. Laptop propped open, he smoothed his hair, drew in a breath, and pressed call.
The screen flickered, then burst to life with Joy's bright face filling the frame, Izan's split screen was himself in his living room.
"YUUUUU!"
Joy squealed, nearly deafening him.
"Finally, finally, finally! I thought I'd have to march to your house with soup and rescue you from roommate prison!"
Yu lifted a hand in a little wave, lips quirking.
"I was only gone like, thirty, forty minutes. I told you—I'm fine. Just… playing nurse for now."
"Mmm… You look fine…"
She pouted, narrowing her eyes as if searching for cracks in the image.
"Are you sure you're eating properly? Sleeping properly? Drinking enough water?! Wait, what if you get sick! Will the baby be okay!?"
Behind her, Izan gave a soft exhale, leaning closer so his face joined hers on the screen. His tone was quieter, steadier.
"She's been worried sick. But… it's good to see you, Yu."
Something warm coiled in Yu's chest. He nodded.
"Good to see you both too. Don't worry Joy, I'm taking precautions to protect the baby."
He lifted his sketchbook into view, flipping to a clean page.
"Now, before Joy explodes, let's get to work, yeah? Runway ideas, Rome notes—we've got a lot to cover."
Joy's pout vanished, replaced by bubbling excitement.
"Yes! Fashion brain ON. Let's go!"
She bounced, dragging a stack of fabrics into view that Yu hadn't even noticed behind her.
"I've been waiting for this moment all day yesterday!"
Izan smirked faintly.
"And I've been wrangling her all day, so I hope you're ready."
Yu chuckled, pen poised in hand, already sketching as Joy chattered, Izan grounding them both with quieter observations. For the first time since the chaos began, the glow of the screen and their overlapping voices made him feel tethered again—not just to the mission, but to something that felt almost normal.
Joy was in full whirlwind mode, holding up swatches of fabric to the camera with both hands.
"Okay, okay, hear me out—silk, but with embroidered snowflakes. Subtle! And maybe we add lace on the cuffs, really French-chic, très romantique."
She puckered her lips in exaggerated fashion, then broke into giggles.
Yu chuckled softly, pen scratching against the page of his sketchbook.
"Romantic and winter…"
He murmured, lines forming into long silhouettes and flowing folds. He looked up.
"I think we can merge it. Love, snow, France—it's… fragile and strong all at once."
"Yes!"
Joy slapped her hand on the table in front of her, startling Izan.
"That's the theme. Winter Romance in Paris!"
Yu let the words roll in his head as he shaded the sketch.
"Winter Romance in Paris…"
He repeated, nodding. The page already showed a coat flared like a gown, fur-trimmed with an asymmetrical sash that resembled a lover's embrace.
While Joy gushed about accessories—pearls, ribbons, maybe even a beret—Yu steadied himself by leaning into the project, his pencil flying as she spoke.
Across the screen, Izan finally spoke up, his voice gentler but grounding.
"While you two drown in fabric, I've compiled the last of our notes on Roman courtship. Here—"
He angled his camera, showing a neat spread of papers covered in bullet points.
"Patrician courting rituals, gifts of doves and wreaths, and love letters etched on wax tablets. We can merge these into slides tonight."
Yu nodded eagerly, reaching for his laptop.
"Perfect. If you share the notes, I'll start formatting while Joy keeps me on track for the runway."
The three fell into a rhythm:
Joy sketching with words, Izan laying the foundation of facts, Yu turning both into visuals—his pencil for the fashion, his keyboard for the slides.
But Joy, ever Joy, couldn't let it stay too professional.
"Yu, don't hunch over too much! Bad posture's bad for the baby. And you're eating enough, right? Like, enough enough?"
Yu froze, pencil pausing mid-stroke. The words slipped out before he could stop them.
"Oh, I know how to take care of a pregnant body. Trust me."
The line came out too smooth, too practiced—he nearly winced. He'd almost said I've done it before. But Joy squealed happily, missing the near-slip.
"Good! Because if I find out you're skipping meals or something, I'll come over with a fridge full of food and force-feed you myself!"
She declared with dramatic flair.
Yu let out a careful breath through his nose.
'So I don't have to tell her everything… just enough.'
Relief slid across him like a soft blanket.
He lifted the sketchpad, showing his design in progress.
"See? I'm fine. Winter Romance in Paris—fur-lined coats, roses hidden in the folds, silhouettes that mimic France architecture. And here…"
He clicked his mouse, flipping to the slideshow.
"The PowerPoint's starting to take shape."
Izan tilted his head, lips quirking into the faintest smile.
"It's coming together better than I thought."
Joy clasped her hands under her chin, eyes sparkling.
"Of course it is—it's Yu. He can do anything."
Yu ducked his head, cheeks warm, the lines on his sketchbook softening under his hand. For just a moment, even with his secrets pressing at him, it felt like he wasn't carrying everything alone.