Chapter 12

3rd person pov:

The days following Fourth's fever subsided were a blur of soft conversations and tender care. Fourth was still recovering, but his body had regained enough strength to sit up for a few hours a day. He was slowly starting to move around the house more, though the fatigue lingered in the quiet tremors of his hands and the occasional deep breath that reminded him of how fragile he truly was.

Gemini hadn't left his side. He'd taken the responsibility of looking after Fourth seriously, keeping him company, offering water, adjusting the pillows around him, and never letting him feel alone. It had become a rhythm, a comfortable routine that kept the fear of what might happen next at bay. Fourth had noticed it—how Gemini was always there, a constant presence that somehow made the weight of his illness a little easier to bear.

But something else was shifting between them, too.

It started small—just a glance, a brief moment where Fourth caught Gemini looking at him for a little longer than usual. At first, he didn't think much of it. But then it began happening more frequently. Fourth noticed the way Gemini seemed to sense when he was feeling weak before he even said anything, how his gaze lingered when Fourth moved around the house, as if making sure he was okay. It made Fourth feel... seen, in a way that was different from before. Not just his illness, not just the person needing help, but him.

Gemini, for his part, was aware of the shift. He had always been protective of Fourth, ever since they'd first met. But there was something new in the way he kept an eye on the younger boy now—something deeper, more possessive, like a pull he couldn't quite name. He couldn't quite pinpoint when it had happened, but each time Fourth called out to him, or reached for his hand, or simply looked at him like he was the only one in the room, it was harder to tell himself that he was just the caretaker. He was starting to wonder if the feelings stirring within him went beyond simple concern.

And then, one afternoon, the shift became clear.

Gemini was sitting at the table, reading a book, while Fourth sat on the couch nearby, his legs stretched out in front of him. The room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner providing the only sound. Fourth had been more animated lately, even as he recovered—his jokes coming more easily, his laughter filling the space with warmth. But today, Gemini noticed that Fourth kept glancing toward him, his eyes trailing over him, then quickly looking away when Gemini met his gaze.

"Are you okay?" Gemini asked, looking up from his book, sensing the subtle restlessness in Fourth's posture.

Fourth hesitated, but only for a moment. He shifted on the couch, finally speaking. "I... I was wondering if you could sit with me for a while. I mean, if you're not busy."

The words were quiet, almost hesitant, but there was a clear request in them—a simple desire for Gemini's company. It was small, but it was there, and Gemini's heart gave a small lurch at the realization. Fourth was seeking him out. Not out of obligation, not because he needed care, but because he wanted him there.

"Of course," Gemini said, setting his book down with a soft thud. His voice was steady, but his chest tightened with the unexpected warmth spreading through him. He got up and moved to the couch, sitting beside Fourth, close but not too close. He didn't want to invade his space—he knew Fourth had always been cautious about too much attention. But when Fourth looked at him, their eyes met, and there was a wordless understanding between them, a shift in the air that neither of them could ignore.

They sat in silence for a while, the quiet comfortable, but not without the weight of unspoken words. Fourth's head eventually found its way to Gemini's shoulder, and it was as if the world had settled into a new place, where the boundary between caretaker and someone more was beginning to blur.

For the first time in a while, Gemini didn't feel the need to break the silence. Instead, he let it linger, savoring the peace of being near Fourth, feeling the steady rhythm of the younger boy's breathing as he relaxed against him.

"Thank you," Fourth murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Gemini's gaze softened, and he gently placed a hand on Fourth's arm, his thumb brushing the fabric of his shirt. "You don't need to thank me," he replied, his voice low. "I'll always be here."

There it was—the first sign of change. Fourth's small but significant request for his presence, the way he looked for Gemini when he needed comfort, when he needed company, without the illness as an excuse. It wasn't just about being taken care of anymore. It was about companionship. About connection.

Gemini's protective instinct grew stronger with each passing day. He wasn't sure what these feelings meant yet—whether it was the bond they'd forged over time, or something more, but he knew he couldn't let go of it. Not now. Not when it felt so right to be by Fourth's side, to be the one he could rely on, not just in sickness, but in all the small moments that now seemed to matter more than ever.

As the days passed, the small gestures continued. Fourth would lean into Gemini when he felt tired, would reach out for him when he needed a hand to steady him, and Gemini would always be there—always willing, always ready to hold him up. It was a bond, silent but unspoken, and though neither of them would say it aloud yet, they both knew: this was more than just two people coexisting in the same space. Something deeper was beginning to form.

Gemini could feel it in the way his chest tightened when Fourth smiled at him, in the way his heart fluttered when their hands brushed, in the way he wanted to be near him, not out of duty, but out of a quiet longing that was too new to fully understand.

And as Fourth began to reach out more often for Gemini's presence, the shift between them was undeniable. It was no longer just about the illness, or the need for protection—it was about something else. Something neither of them had dared name yet. But they were both feeling it, deep down.

It was the first sign of change.

And for Gemini, it was a feeling he was starting to fear he didn't want to ignore.