Chapter 15

3rd person pov:

The days passed in a quiet rhythm, a routine that neither Fourth nor Gemini seemed eager to break. Their conversations grew fewer but deeper—not in words but in something more profound, an unspoken language that only the two of them seemed to understand.

Fourth had started to feel safer, not just in Gemini's presence but with himself. It was as though Gemini's patience and quiet determination were slowly chipping away at the walls he had built. Though the words they exchanged were sparse, the gestures spoke volumes.

It started with small things.

One afternoon, Fourth sat curled on the couch, scrolling through his online coursework. He'd been at it for hours, his brow furrowed in concentration, when a steaming mug of tea appeared beside him. He looked up to see Gemini standing there, his expression neutral but his eyes soft.

"You've been at it too long," Gemini said simply.

Fourth didn't respond with words. He simply took the mug, offering Gemini a faint smile as thanks. Gemini sat down nearby, opening a book but keeping a watchful eye on Fourth as if silently saying, I'm here if you need me.

In another moment, Fourth's body betrayed him. A coughing fit struck while they were in the garden, where Fourth had insisted on sitting for some fresh air. Gemini was by his side in an instant, his hand resting lightly on Fourth's back, rubbing slow, soothing circles.

"Take it easy," Gemini murmured.

When Fourth finally caught his breath, he looked up at Gemini, his face flushed not from exertion but from the unspoken care in Gemini's eyes. He gave a small nod, a silent acknowledgment that he was fine. Gemini didn't press, didn't ask questions—he just stayed, steady as ever.

It was in the evenings, though, that their silent connection was most palpable.

Gemini had taken to sitting close, not intruding on Fourth's space but always within reach. One evening, as they watched a movie together, Fourth absentmindedly pulled the blanket up to his chin, his gaze fixed on the screen. When the room grew colder, Gemini reached over, pulling the blanket higher over Fourth's shoulders.

Fourth didn't say anything, but his hand lightly brushed Gemini's as if to say, Thank you.

These small gestures slowly became a habit, a silent way of saying what words could not. Fourth found himself growing more and more at ease around Gemini. He no longer flinched at the thought of being cared for or leaned into Gemini's protective presence when the world felt too overwhelming.

And Gemini, for his part, noticed every little shift.

He noticed how Fourth's posture relaxed when they were together, how his eyes softened when Gemini entered the room. He noticed how Fourth started seeking him out, sitting closer, letting their shoulders brush, or lingering in shared silences that felt more intimate than any conversation.

Each moment strengthened Gemini's resolve to protect Fourth. It wasn't just out of duty or obligation—it was something deeper, something he couldn't quite name but knew was unshakable.

One night, as Fourth drifted off on the couch, his head nodding slightly, Gemini gently adjusted the blanket around him. Fourth stirred but didn't wake, his lips murmuring something incoherent.

Gemini paused, his hand hovering over Fourth's shoulder. His protective instincts surged, but he forced himself to pull back. Fourth was beginning to trust him, and he didn't want to do anything to disrupt that fragile trust.

Instead, he sat down beside him, watching over him in the quiet of the night. The silence between them was no longer empty—it was filled with the weight of things unspoken but deeply understood.

As Gemini leaned back and closed his eyes, he felt a sense of peace settle over him. Fourth was finally beginning to let him in, and for now, that was enough.