The unexpected kiss left Eron paralyzed. He could have pushed Aryan away, but his body refused to move. Something about it felt too overwhelming, too consuming. His heart pounded in his chest, so loud he thought Aryan might hear it. It wasn't just shock—it was something deeper, something terrifyingly unfamiliar.
As Aryan lost consciousness in his arms, Eron gently laid him on the bed. Sitting beside him, he brought a trembling hand to his lips, still warm from the kiss.
"What… was that?" he whispered to himself, his fingers lingering over his mouth. The sensation lingered, seeping into his very core. "Why didn't it feel awkward? Why didn't I hate it?"
The more he thought about it, the more suffocating the realization became.
"Do I… have feelings for my own brother?"
The mere thought sent chills down his spine. Rony's words echoed in his ears—words of warning, of an irreversible change if Aryan ever found out. His hands clenched into fists. If Aryan knew… would he look at him with disgust? Would he walk away forever?
No. Eron couldn't let this happen. He had to bury these emotions before they consumed him.
The next morning, Marco was struggling with his own turmoil. After what happened last night, he needed answers—needed to be sure. And so, in a desperate attempt to confirm his sexuality, he sought out his friends.
Laughing, joking, even forcing physical closeness—he tried it all. But no matter how much he tried, his heart remained still, unaffected.
"I'm not gay, then why… why did my heart race like crazy yesterday?"
Confused and frustrated, Marco sat alone on the bench, rubbing his temples.
"Marco…"
At the sound of Aryan's voice, his heart slammed against his ribs. His head snapped up, his gaze immediately finding Aryan at the classroom entrance.
Everything else faded. The noise, the people, the world—it was just Aryan.
Marco stiffened. What the hell was happening to him? Why did his chest feel tight? Why did the mere sight of Aryan make him breathless?
Realizing his own reaction, he abruptly slapped himself.
"Get a grip! What the hell is wrong with me?"
Aryan, noticing Marco's odd behavior, walked up to him with concern written all over his face. "Marco, are you okay?"
Marco swallowed hard. "Y-yeah! Of course! I'm perfectly f-fine!" He forced a grin, his voice unsteady.
Aryan frowned. "Your face is red…" Without thinking, he reached out, placing his cool hand against Marco's cheek.
The touch sent Marco into complete chaos.
"My heart…" he muttered under his breath.
"Huh?" Aryan tilted his head.
"I-I need to go to the washroom!" Marco blurted and bolted out of the room, desperate to escape before Aryan could see through him. He spent the entire day avoiding Aryan, trying to sort out the storm of emotions raging inside him.
Meanwhile, Eron was determined to erase his feelings for Aryan. He had to move on—find someone else, anyone else. And Kiara, who had recently shown interest in him, became the perfect distraction.
If he could just focus on her, maybe his heart would stop aching for Aryan.
That evening, Aryan stood outside, waiting for Eron as he always did. But when Eron finally emerged, Kiara was beside him.
"Aren't you coming?" Aryan asked, his voice hesitant.
Eron glanced at Kiara before replying, "I have plans." His tone was casual, but he couldn't bring himself to meet Aryan's eyes. He was lying, and they both knew it.
"Oh…" Aryan forced a smile. "Okay. I'll go by myself, then."
Still, he told himself it was fine. After all, this was how things were supposed to go, right? Eron was bound to develop feelings for Kiara eventually—just like in the novel.
Yet, as he turned away, a strange unease settled in his chest, one he couldn't quite explain.
From then on, Aryan began to notice that both Marco and Eron were trying to avoid him. The growing distance felt suffocating, an invisible weight pressing against his chest. Logically, he understood Eron's change, but Marco? What had he done to push him away?
Enough was enough.
The next day, Aryan cornered Marco and dragged him to a café, refusing to let him escape.
As silence stretched between them, Aryan finally broke. "Can you at least tell me why you're avoiding me?" His voice wavered with hurt. "If I did something wrong, just say it. But don't push me away like this."
Marco clenched his jaw, looking anywhere but at Aryan. "You didn't do anything wrong."
"Then why?!" Aryan's frustration spilled over, his voice shaking. "Why are you acting like this? You don't even talk to me properly these days! Just tell me the reason, Marco! I want to know!"
Marco's heart clenched painfully as he saw the unshed tears in Aryan's eyes. He wanted to tell him—wanted to scream it out. But fear held him back.
"I can't…" he murmured helplessly.
"Why?" Aryan demanded, voice raw with emotion. "If you can't even tell me, then I won't force you. L-lets end all here... I also have some self-respect..."
He turned to leave, but Marco grabbed his wrist, stopping him. His chest tightened as desperation took over. No. He couldn't let Aryan walk away. Not like this.
Trembling, Marco took Aryan's hand and placed it over his heart.
"This…" he whispered, his voice barely holding together. "This is why I've been avoiding you."
Aryan blinked in confusion, feeling the rapid thump beneath his palm.
"I think…" Marco hesitated, his fingers tightening into fists. He took a shaky breath before locking eyes with Aryan. "I think I've fallen in love with you."
Aryan blinked, his breath hitching. For a moment, he just stared, as if waiting for Marco to take it back—to say it was a joke, a mistake. But Marco's face held nothing but raw sincerity.
"You… what?" Aryan finally whispered, his voice barely audible. His heart pounded in his chest, not knowing if it was from shock or something deeper.
Marco swallowed hard, his nerves unraveling with each passing second. "I didn't want to feel this way… but I can't help it, Aryan."
A heavy silence settled between them, thick with unspoken emotions.