Third Person's POV.
Over the next two days, Gemini worked slowly through Nana's house. The weight of the mortgage was finally lifted, and with it, a strange sense of relief settled over him—an easing of the heavy burden that had pressed down for so long. But now came the hardest part: going through Nana's things.
He started in her bedroom, carefully folding her worn clothes, softly touching each item as if it held her presence. He boxed up trinkets—little keepsakes, faded photographs, handwritten notes—each one pulling memories from the depths of his mind. It was a slow, agonizing process. Time blurred as he lost himself in the details, trying to hold onto what was gone.
At first, he was okay. Focused, almost numb, he could keep the grief at bay. But then, he'd find something small—a faded apron she always wore when baking, a handwritten recipe card with her shaky script—and the floodgates would open. Tears would come unbidden, and he would curl up on the sofa or kneel beside a box, crying quietly, letting the pain wash over him.
Percy was there every step of the way. Silent but present, steady and unwavering. He moved boxes, prepared simple meals, and made sure Gemini stayed hydrated. When tears fell, Percy was immediately at his side—offering a comforting shoulder, a gentle hand, a quiet presence that said, 'You're not alone.' Percy didn't rush him or try to fix everything. He simply absorbed some of the weight, providing a safe space for Gemini to grieve.
By the end of the second day, Gemini felt fragile but peaceful. The house was cleaned, the essentials packed away, and the hardest part—facing his memories—was done, at least for now.
"I think I'm ready to go back," Gemini said softly that evening, voice trembling with exhaustion but with a hint of resolve.
Percy gave him a gentle smile, eyes filled with relief. "Good," he replied. "We'll leave in the morning."
The morning came too quickly. Percy drove them back to the city, but instead of heading toward the university dorms, he veered into a sleek, modern residential area just a short drive away. He pulled the Bentley into a reserved spot in a high-rise apartment building that looked out over the city skyline.
"Percy? Where are we?" Gemini asked, confused as he looked around the unfamiliar, luxurious space.
"Your new place," Percy said softly, turning off the engine.
Gemini's eyes widened. "My… new place? Percy, I don't have a new place. I have a dorm room."
Percy reached for the bags in the trunk, already moving to the door. "Not anymore, you don't." he said simply. "I got this yesterday. It's close enough for you to walk to campus, but far from the noise and chaos of the dorms. We're moving in together."
The words hit Gemini like a blow. His chest tightened, and a wave of panic and awe washed over him. "Wait, wait… Percy. What about Geneva? Your job?"
Percy's gaze sharpened, his voice firm. "I told you at the cemetery—I'm not leaving you. I'm not going back to Geneva to be miserable alone. I'll work remotely, and I'll commute for meetings. I can handle it from here."
Gemini swallowed hard. "And Penelope? Where is she in all of this?"
"You know Pen has her own place now," Percy said, a small smile tugging at his lips. "She and Ohio helped me pick out some furniture yesterday. She's happy you're finally moving out of the dorm."
Gemini's mind spun. "Percy… you can't just—"
Percy stepped close, his hands framing Gemini's face. "I can and I did," he said softly. "I'm not going to lose you again. I've made my decision. You deserve to be safe and comfortable while you focus on your education. You don't get a vote on this one, not this time."
Gemini looked at the building—the sleek, shining structure that represented a new chapter—and then at Percy, who looked at him with a stubborn resolve. He knew arguing was pointless. Percy's mind was made up, and beneath the stubbornness, Gemini saw the fierce love that fueled him.
Reluctantly, he nodded. He had no choice but to accept. His life was shifting—no longer bound to Nana's house or the chaos of the dorms. Instead, he was stepping into a new, bright future, held by a man whose love was fierce and unwavering.
Inside the apartment, Gemini was immediately struck by the space and brightness. It was sleek, modern, and utterly removed from the dusty grief of Nana's house or the cluttered chaos of the dorm. He set down his worn duffel bag—the same bag he'd carried when he ran from Percy a year ago—and looked around, taking in the quiet comfort of it all.
While Percy showed him the view from the large windows and pointed out the spacious kitchen, the front door opened again. Ohio and Penelope arrived, carrying grocery bags and boxes, their faces bright with energy.
"Ta-da! We brought the essentials!" Ohio announced cheerfully.
Penelope immediately zeroed in on Gemini and rushed over, pulling him into a warm, tight hug. She kissed the top of his hair gently.
"Everything's going to be okay, sweetheart," she whispered softly. "We're all here for you."
The four of them settled into the huge kitchen, filling the space with light conversation and quiet laughter. Penelope had prepared dinner—a simple, comforting meal. They ate together, deliberately avoiding heavy topics like Nana or their past heartbreaks, choosing instead to create a new beginning.
During the meal, Ohio shared her own news—her voice bright, proud. "So, I have an announcement, too," she grinned. "I'm moving out of the dorm. I'm moving into Penelope's place."
Gemini blinked, surprised. "Really? How did that happen?"
"Yep," Penelope said with a smile. "Us girls need to stick together, and because my place is too big for me. Ohio was looking for a place so we decided to live together."
Ohio nudged him playfully. "My parents were worried about me living off campus alone but now they don't have to. Besides, you're not the only one who deserves an upgrade. We're growing up, G. Don't worry, we'll still have our spontaneous dates and study nights."
That night, Gemini felt a quiet warmth settle over him—knowing that his circle of support was growing, solid and steady. It was a reminder that he wasn't alone.
After dinner, the girls promised to visit soon, and with heartfelt hugs, they left the boys to their quiet apartment.
Gemini, exhausted but peaceful, finally slipped into the shower. The hot water washed away the residue of grief and travel. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth seep into his bones.
But then, the shower door slid open.
Percy stepped in, fully clothed at first, then quickly shed his shirt and stepped under the spray. Gemini tensed instinctively—the year of separation had built a barrier, a wall of hesitation and caution. Still, he remembered Percy's vow, the promise of safety, and the love that had never wavered.
Percy didn't rush. He started by gently caressing Gemini's shoulders, then down his arms, giving him time to adjust. He kneaded the tense muscles in Gemini's neck, soothing the stress of the past days. His voice was low and soothing, a whisper in Gemini's ear.
"I've got you, Bunny. You're safe here. Just let me take care of you."
Percy whispered sweet words, reminding Gemini how much he was loved, how much he mattered. He didn't demand or push—just used his touch to reassure, to heal.
When the water turned cold, Percy wrapped Gemini in a thick towel, helping him dry his hair gently. He pressed light, lingering kisses to Gemini's forehead, temple, and the back of his neck—small acts of domestic intimacy, quiet promises of love and protection.
In that moment, Gemini felt the safety he had longed for—held, cared for, and protected. Percy's love was real and unwavering, and in the warmth of that shower, he finally let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was going to be okay.