Dominik had survived wars, betrayals, backstabbing boardroom meetings, and Leo's puberty. But nothing, nothing, could have prepared him for watching the Domestic Phantom Duo for a second day straight.
The mafia villa was sweltering with sun and cicadas. But Dominik, armed with a camera lens the size of a toddler, sat perched behind a strategically trimmed bougainvillea bush like some sort of mafia-certified David Attenborough.
He was ready. Coffee? Spiked. Notebook? Color-coded. Therapist? On speed dial.
Morning: Mutual Torture Hour
Leo and Nox were already on the rooftop terrace, sparring barefoot under the glare of the rising sun. Leo wore loose joggers and a sweat-soaked tank, muscles straining as he blocked a sharp kick. Nox, unbothered as always, wore black compression pants and a sleeveless hoodie that was already unzipped and sticking to his tattooed back.
Dominik zoomed in.
"You can see the thorny Roman vine tattoo flex when he dodges. It's like watching violence do yoga."
Leo laughed mid-spar. "You're slowing down, Phantom."
Nox ducked under a punch, grabbed Leo's wrist, and slammed him to the mat.
Leo wheezed. "Okay. Maybe not."
From his bush, Dominik whispered to no one, "Foreplay disguised as self-defense. Classic."
Post-Fight: Smoke Break & Fruit Trauma
After stretching and toweling off, they collapsed into the shade. Leo lit a cigarette, then slid it into Nox's mouth without a word. Nox accepted it like this happened every day. (It did.)
Dominik scribbled furiously. "Confirmed: cigarette-sharing is their love language."
They sat there in peaceful silence. Until Leo held up a sliced melon.
"No cucumbers again?"
"I swapped them out. You're welcome," Nox said.
Leo plucked out a few green olives and put them on Nox's plate without breaking eye contact.
Dominik's eye twitched. "They're casually adjusting each other's food. That's marriage. That's literal mafia matrimony."
Midday: Target Acquired (On the Couch)
Inside the villa, the air conditioning blasted. Nox was cleaning five new sniper rifles on the living room table. Each one sat in a padded foam case, gleaming like deadly newborns.
"Meet the girls," Leo muttered, arranging the med kit next to him.
Nox barely looked up. "Neyan. Leto. Artemis. Medea. Pandora."
Dominik mouthed the names. "They have names. He named his guns after Greek goddesses. I'm going to pass out."
Leo flicked a hand over the polished barrel of Artemis. "You're showing off."
"You like her balance," Nox replied dryly.
Leo snorted. "She's moody. Like you."
Then he reached out and flicked the crimson heart-shaped navel piercing swinging subtly beneath Nox's exposed abs. It made a soft sound—metal against skin. Nox didn't even flinch.
Dominik nearly screamed into his fist.
Afternoon: Domestic Delirium
Lunch was light: grilled chicken, lemon rice, and salad. Leo stabbed at his plate, then silently traded half of it with Nox, switching the portions without a word. Nox accepted it like routine.
Dominik whispered, "He hates cucumbers. HE HATES CUCUMBERS AND Nox KNOWS THAT."
They watched TV afterward. Some boring college horror movie. Leo stretched across the couch with one leg flung over Nox's thigh, lazily texting. Nox typed on his laptop, unbothered.
Then Leo leaned over, voice barely above a whisper, and murmured something directly into Nox's ear.
Nox nodded.
Dominik clutched the air. "They don't even flinch. They don't notice how intimate they are. I am losing my goddamn mind."
His assistant brought him a juice box. "You said you wouldn't yell today."
"I LIED."
Evening: Swim & Sulk
Back at the pool, the sun dipped low. Leo swam laps. Nox sat poolside, mask off now, feet in the water, his three ear studs glinting crimson under the light.
Dominik muttered, "Abs. Piercings. Tattoo. How is this not illegal?"
Leo climbed out of the pool, water cascading down his back, and passed Nox a towel.
"You coming in?"
Nox shook his head. "Not sanitized enough."
Leo grinned. "You're such a germaphobe."
"No," Nox said, calmly drying his hands. "I just don't trust Dominik's Himalayan chlorine fairy tale."
Dominik screamed from behind the bush, "IT'S CALLED BRANDING, YOU BARBARIAN."
They ignored him.
Nightfall: Cigarettes & Unspoken Truths
As stars scattered across the sky, Leo and Nox lay side by side on the outdoor lounge chairs. They shared a pack of cigarettes, speaking little, if at all.
Dominik sat at the security camera terminal now, rewinding the footage over and over.
"You see this?" he pointed at a frame. "Leo leaned in his hand on nox neck, put the cigarette to Nox's mouth, lit his cigarette from it like it was the most naturel thing . That's an indirect kiss. That's a BL trope! I KNOW what I'm seeing."
His assistant looked mildly concerned. "Sir, this is day two."
"Exactly," Dominik whispered, eyes bloodshot. "They won't notice. They're already in it. They've sunk into each other's gravity. And they're too emotionally repressed to name it."
"Should we intervene?"
Dominik shook his head. "No. We observe. For science."
And from his own private suite, while Leo turned the volume down on the movie and Nox curled his fingers just slightly closer in the space between them—Dominik updated his log.
Dominik's Surveillance Notes: Day 002 – Final
Cigarette count: 13 shared, 6 lit mouth-to-mouth.
Weapon cleaning session: 3 hours. Emotional undressing: constant.
Fruit trade: Mutual, instinctive. NO COMMENT.
Pool flirtation: Denied. Body language: Screaming.
Conclusion: They're already "together" in every way but physical.
New operation title: "Operation Mutual Pining & Denial Olympics"
I'll give it a month before one of them snaps.
End of log. For now.
End of Chapter 60