The lecture hall hummed like a hive, low voices bouncing off the slanted rows of desks, the glow of laptop screens lighting nervous faces. Students fidgeted with note cards, whispering rehearsed lines, the shuffle of papers filling every pause.
Yu sat stiffly beside Izan, his hands resting on his swelling belly, fingers kneading the fabric of his sweater. His heart thudded unevenly, loud in his ears. Every shuffle, every cough from across the room seemed to make his pulse spike higher.
"Do you think—"
Yu whispered, then stopped, swallowing back bile that rose not from morning sickness but from nerves.
Izan's gray eyes flicked sideways, sharp but calm, and his large hand closed over Yu's fidgeting fingers.
"Don't panic."
He murmured, voice pitched low so only Yu could hear.
"We know the material. We've rehearsed. Just breathe. In. Out."
Yu sucked in a shaky breath, trying to follow, but his classmates' whispers slid under his skin. A few girls in the back row whispered behind their hands, darting glances at Yu's loose sweater. Others looked at him, then at Adrian—who had taken a seat quietly in the back, a dark anchor in the chaos—and giggled nervously as though trying to puzzle out what was going on.
Yu curled in on himself, shoulders hunching.
'They're staring. They know. They all know.'
Izan squeezed his hand tighter, grounding.
"Eyes on me, Yu."
He said firmly, like a command but softened with patience.
"We're doing this together. Roman love culture. You've got the slides, I've got the notes. No one's talking about your… about you."
Something in Izan's certainty cracked through Yu's fog. His breath steadied, his gaze locked on the laptop in front of them. He gave a jerky nod, whispering.
"Together."
The professor called their names.
The shuffle of seats, the creak of desks, and then silence fell as Yu and Izan stood and made their way to the front.
The projector washed their slides in pale light, illuminating the title Roman Love Culture: Passion, Politics, and the Private Sphere.
Izan opened smoothly, voice deep and unshaken, carrying across the hall with natural authority.
"Roman culture has always been examined through its politics, its wars, its emperors. But love—love was just as much a battlefield."
He glanced at Yu, who took a breath, lips trembling before words finally came.
"Romantic relationships in Rome were not just private indulgences."
He said, his voice delicate but steadying as the words flowed.
"They were tied to reputation, power, and even law. Who you loved could shape your destiny."
Slide by slide, they wove their points. Izan's calm, structured delivery was the skeleton; Yu's soft but passionate tone the heartbeat. Together, their contrast held the audience's focus.
Yu's cheeks warmed as he gestured lightly to the slide of Roman frescoes depicting lovers.
"And yet, despite the rules and expectations, desire always slipped through the cracks. Love couldn't always be contained, even by Rome's laws."
For a brief, fragile moment, Yu forgot his classmates' stares. He forgot his nerves, his cravings, his fear. He was simply Yukio—Yuvin—Yu—sharing something he had worked for.
Yu's voice trembled at first, like glass catching light, but each slide steadied him. The rhythm built—breathe, speak, glance at Izan—breathe, speak, look at the audience. His words spilled softer than Izan's commanding tone, but together they braided into something that carried.
On a slide showing fragments of Ovid's poetry, Yu traced the words with his gaze.
"The poets remind us…"
He said, swallowing the knot in his throat.
"That love was never only about possession. It was yearning. A fight against time. Desire that could not always be tamed by rules or politics."
Don't think about Theo. Don't think about Adrian in the back. Just this. Just these words.
Another slide:
Roman laws on marriage. Izan's voice filled the space like a pillar.
"Marriage was a contract, a duty to family and Rome itself. Yet beneath the duty, people still sought affection, beauty, even forbidden intimacy."
Yu picked up the thread, his palms clammy against the clicker.
"It's proof that even in the most rigid systems, love finds ways to… survive."
His breath hitched, but he pressed on, looking down the rows of faces—some skeptical, some curious, some attentive.
"It always has."
His pulse hammered against his ribs, but he was still standing, still speaking.
'I can do this. I'm doing this.'
The final slide bloomed on the screen—a mosaic of Roman couples, etched in stone yet caught in tenderness. Izan wrapped up their conclusion, smooth and sure.
"Roman love culture wasn't about perfection. It was about contradiction—duty and desire, power and passion. That contradiction is why it still fascinates us today."
Yu inhaled, steadying his hands.
"And why it still matters."
He added, voice just above a whisper, but it carried.
Silence stretched. For a heartbeat, Yu thought he'd collapse into it.
Then applause broke. Some polite, some genuine. A few students even leaned forward, whispering, impressed.
Yu's shoulders sagged, his knees weak, but he stayed upright. The fragile rhythm inside him beat on:
Terror, relief, pride. His eyes pricked hot, but he held back tears, biting the inside of his cheek.
The professor gave a nod of approval.
"Strong work. Both of you."
Yu's heart fluttered painfully at the simple words. He bowed his head slightly, whispering to himself.
"I didn't fail. Not this time."
Beside him, Izan's hand brushed his elbow, grounding him for the last time as they stepped down from the front of the class.
Yu sat back down, the tremor in his hands refusing to fade. His heart was still beating against his ribs like it hadn't gotten the memo that the presentation was over. The claps had stopped, the next pair of students were preparing, but Yu's ears still rang with the echo of them.
"Their applauding. For you. For us. For the hours of grueling work we did."
Izan leaned slightly toward him, voice low and even.
"You did well. Better than you think."
Yu's throat tightened. His first instinct was to argue, to say he almost froze, almost slipped, almost ran—but the warmth in Izan's tone pinned him quiet. He nodded, lips pressed together. His chest swelled with a cocktail of pride and grief, relief and exhaustion. He hated how fragile it made him feel, how hot his eyes burned.
He pulled at the sleeves of his oversized sweater, hunching small in the chair. Hormones churned and twisted.
'Don't cry, not here, not now. Please, Yu, keep it together until the very end.'
But the tears pressed anyway, stinging as if just to remind him he was carrying too much, in too many ways.
Izan wordlessly slid a folded tissue into Yu's hand. Yu blinked at it, startled, then sniffed a shaky laugh.
"You're prepared."
"Always."
Izan murmured, eyes still on the front of the class as if nothing had happened. But the quiet press of reassurance grounded Yu, let him wipe quickly before anyone else could see.
Still, even with Izan's steady presence, Yu's thoughts spun. The babies. The France trip. Theo. Adrian. Callen. Each name, each weight, collided until he wanted to fold in on himself.
And then—
From the back of the room, Yu felt it. That stare. Heat on the nape of his neck. He turned his head slightly and caught Adrian watching him.
Adrian's expression was unreadable to most, but Yu had come to know the quiet glint in his eyes. It wasn't just pride—it was passion, protection, simmering like steel under fire. He hadn't looked away once during the whole presentation.
Now, Adrian leaned back in his chair, hands folded, a subtle nod given as if to say:
I saw you. I'm here. You did it.
Yu flushed and quickly looked down at his notes, pretending to straighten them, but his pulse skipped, uneven and restless.
…
The class finally dismissed, and Yu rose on legs that felt more like twigs than anything sturdy. He gathered his notes with fumbling fingers, stuffing them into his bag as if that could hide how shaky he was. Izan, calm as always, stood first and subtly waited for Yu to fall into step with him. That steady shadow at his side kept Yu from splintering completely.
Still, whispers tickled at the back of Yu's neck as classmates filed out—about his voice, his look, how nervous he'd seemed, how surprising it was he'd carried it through. Yu bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to let the words dig. He kept his eyes down, sweater sleeves bunched in his fists.
At the door, another presence slipped in close—Adrian. Without hesitation, he pressed a small packet of tissues into Yu's hands. The warmth of his calloused fingers lingered as if to say:
Don't hide from me.
Yu's chest stung again, both from the fragile swell of emotion and from the rawness of being seen. He wanted to collapse into the ground right there, but Izan's quiet stride and Adrian's silent guard flanking him kept him moving.
They made it outside, the crisp air biting against Yu's flushed cheeks. He exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and before he could even wrap his arms around himself, Adrian's low voice broke the silence.
"You were incredible in there."
Yu blinked up at him, startled.
Adrian's gaze didn't waver—steady, dark, steadying in its weight.
"I mean it. You were strong. You carried it all the way through, and I'm proud of you."
The words slammed into Yu harder than any applause could have. His throat tightened, and he tried to laugh it off, mumbling.
"I was a mess—"
But Adrian leaned closer, his voice softer this time, a hand hovering near Yu's elbow without quite touching.
"No. You were brave. And beautiful."
Yu's heart lurched painfully at that last word. He bit his lip, eyes burning all over again. Ducking his head, his first instinct was to swat the words away before they could settle into his bones.
"Beautiful? Adrian, I was shaking like a leaf. My voice cracked twice. If anything, I was just… pathetic."
His laugh was thin, brittle.
But Adrian didn't budge. His gaze was warm, steady as a hand on Yu's cheek even without touching him.
"No…"
He said firmly, low enough only Yu could hear.
"Pathetic doesn't make it through. You did."
The fragile shell Yu tried to hold cracked a little, and his breath stuttered. He wanted to deny it, to push it away so it wouldn't hurt when it vanished—but Adrian's words wouldn't let him. They wrapped around his chest like a tether, pulling him closer to warmth he didn't think he deserved.
Before he could answer, Izan shifted beside him, quiet as always.
"You were a great partner…"
Izan said, his voice even, his presence grounding. Then, almost as an afterthought, but with a flicker of sincerity, he added.
"And an even better matchmaker. Thank you—for helping me and Joy find each other."
Yu blinked, startled into stillness, before a small, watery smile tugged at his lips.
"I—I didn't really do much."
"You did enough."
Izan replied simply, and then he adjusted his bag.
"I've got another class. You should rest. Take care of yourself."
He nodded once at Adrian, then slipped into the tide of students, gone in an instant.
Yu lifted his hand in a weak goodbye, murmuring.
"Bye, Izan…"
His throat closed up again. The quiet left behind was heavier now, but it wasn't crushing—not with Adrian beside him.
Adrian glanced down at him, then back at the line of benches along the walkway. His tone softened, careful as if coaxing a frightened animal.
"C'mon. Let's sit for a bit. You should relax before we head home."
Yu hesitated, torn between deflecting again and leaning into the comfort he secretly craved. At last, his body made the choice for him. His shoulders sagged, and he gave a tiny nod, whispering.
"...Okay."
Adrian guided him toward the bench, one steadying hand hovering close but never forcing, as though he knew Yu would lean in on his own if he wanted to.
Yu slumped back against the bench, one hand curling protectively at his belly, the other tugging nervously at the hem of his oversized sweater. The late-morning sun washed the courtyard in pale gold, but it was Adrian's shadow that wrapped him in quiet shelter.
"All that panicking… and standing up there while everyone stared at me…"
Yu's voice was small, almost sulky.
"Now I'm starving. And I think…"
His eyes darted sideways at Adrian, lips twitching as though embarrassed to admit it.
"…I think I'm craving nachos with chocolate syrup and… pickled radishes."
He said it quickly, like ripping off a bandage, then waited for Adrian to recoil, to laugh, to tease. But Adrian only chuckled, the sound low and warm, and smoothed a hand over Yu's already perfectly neat hair, lingering long enough to make Yu shiver with comfort.
"Nachos, chocolate syrup, pickled radishes…"
Adrian repeated like a vow, his lips quirking.
"Alright, my love. Tell me anything, and I'll bring it."
Yu blinked, the fragile smile breaking wider despite the heat creeping across his cheeks.
"You're supposed to at least gag or something…"
"Not a chance."
Adrian murmured, straightening.
"If it makes you happy, I don't care how gross it is."
And with that, he rose to his full height, adjusted his coat, and started toward the cafeteria, his broad frame cutting through the sea of students with single-minded purpose. Yu, left on the bench, watched him go with his heart thudding traitorously, the corners of his lips curving as he whispered to himself.
"…He didn't even flinch."
Yu sat back, hands resting over the swell of his belly, feeling it rise and fall with each slow, measured breath. The courtyard's chatter faded into the soft hum of his thoughts, where images tumbled and tangled:
Adrian's rough hands turning careful on his skin, his lips brushing away tears, his body curled around him at night like a shield.
'He could be the one…'
Yu's chest tightened. Not Theo, not Callen, not anyone else the system dangled in front of him. Just Adrian. He imagined it—Adrian cradling the babies, patient and clumsy, then later, maybe years later, more children. Children that were his and Adrian's alone. The thought made his Incubus instincts stir, humming low, urging him to take Adrian's seed, to make it so. He swallowed hard, heat rushing to his cheeks, clutching at the fabric of his sweater as if it might cage the longing.
"Not now."
He whispered to himself, fighting against the pull.
But the fragile bubble shattered with the shift in sound around him. Murmurs. Gasps. The swell of voices thickening into a current. Yu blinked and turned his head, confusion prickling his spine—until he saw it.
The crowd parted like curtains on a stage. And there, striding forward with the confidence of a man who owned the earth beneath his feet, was Theo. In one hand, he carried a bouquet so impossibly large it seemed obscene:
520 roses, their petals rich and blood-red, threatening to spill over. In his other, a small black velvet box, pinched between his fingers like a promise.
Behind him trailed a line of suited men, faces blank, their hands scattering rose petals and—Yu's stomach lurched—actual bills. Hundred-dollar bills fluttered through the air, caught by grasping hands of gawking students, the spectacle dripping excess.
Yu's breath caught. For a moment, the sight was dazzling, cinematic, like something from one of Joy's fashion dramas. But then the reality slammed down, sharp and merciless.
'This is for me.'
'The roses. The box. The men. The ridiculous, choking display. N-no way… No.'
Sickness churned low in Yu's stomach, bile rising in his throat. He couldn't tell if it was the babies twisting inside him or Theo's overwhelming presence clawing at his senses. His palms went clammy, his pulse spiked, and the world tilted on its axis as he realized—
Theo was really walking straight toward him.
Yu's fingers dug into the wood of the bench, nails pressing crescents into the grain as Theo's slow, deliberate steps closed the space between them. Each click of his shoes against the stone path thudded in Yu's chest like a countdown.
The roses bobbed in Theo's arm, heavy and absurd, their perfume thick in the crisp air, and the velvet box glinted faintly in the sunlight, tiny and ominous. Yu's breath came shallow, his belly knotting with a sharp pang. The murmurs of the crowd weren't just sound anymore—they were pressure, a crushing weight pushing down on him, daring him to react, to play the role Theo had scripted.
'I can't breathe. I can't—'
But then Theo was there. Close enough that Yu could see the flush of determination in his cheeks, the light fever of devotion in his eyes. Close enough that the scent of roses and cologne wrapped around him, suffocating.
"Yuvin…"
Theo said, voice pitched to carry, steady even as emotion roughened the edges. He lifted the bouquet higher, a wall of roses between them, like an offering and a cage all at once.
"I love you."
Gasps broke through the crowd like sparks. Yu froze, his throat burning.
Theo didn't hesitate. He shifted the roses to one arm, his other hand moving fluidly as he bent down—one knee striking the pavement with practiced grace. The velvet box opened in his palm, and inside, the gleam of a ring caught the sunlight, dazzling.
"Yuvin Beckham…"
Theo declared, voice warm and resolute.
"I want you by my side for the rest of my life. Be mine—marry me."
The Love-o-meter ticked down:
45 - 40
Rose petals fluttered down, cash bills swirled, students craned their necks for a better view, and the world seemed to slow into unbearable clarity.
Yu's heart slammed against his ribs. His belly throbbed with a warning ache. DK01's faint hum echoed at the edge of his mind.
[Host, stay strong! You know what you have to do. Adrian is not your target, Theo is. Breathe. Relax. And perform.]
Theo knelt still, eyes full of certainty, the whole world waiting for Yu's answer.
The air turned heavy, the silence thick enough to strangle. Hundreds of eyes pressed into Yu's skin, pinning him in place like a specimen beneath glass. Theo unwavering, arm outstretched, the emerald catching glints of sun and forcing its glow against Yu's wide eyes.
Yu's lips trembled, no sound coming, his breath a rasping whisper in his own ears.
'I can't. I don't want this. Not like this. Not here.'
His belly churned, his body screaming for escape, but his mind rang with DK01's warnings.
[Endure. Finish. Get through the mission. You can do this, Yu. You must.]
So he smiled. A fragile, porcelain smile that felt like knives under his skin. He painted it wide, bright, the perfect portrait of a beloved saying yes in a fairy tale moment—even as bile burned at the back of his throat.
"...Yes…"
Yu whispered, forcing the word past his clenched teeth, his voice pitched sweet enough for the crowd.
His trembling hand reached toward the box, not Theo's face, not his outstretched hand, but the ring itself. His fingers brushed the velvet, plucked the silver band free, the emerald winking up at him. For one impossible beat, the crowd faded.
The world narrowed to that stone. That glint. That emerald green.
'I know this ring.'
Memory twisted like a knife in his chest. Someone else. Somewhere else. A hand—warm, roughened by battles—slipping a silver band into his palm. Eyes like emeralds shining in devotion. His Demon King—Talo.
The vision was sharp and hurried then quickly replaced with Taichi, gifting him a wrapped Christmas present, but it was wrong. Taichi's face was blacked out, his voice muffled but Yu somewhat remembered something about always being together, even if they were apart?
The memory seared, bittersweet and jagged, then vanished before he could hold it.
Yu's heart stuttered violently. His fingers clenched around the ring. His mask almost cracked.
But Theo's exclamation split the air.
"Yes! Yu, you said yes!"
Before Yu could breathe, Theo surged forward, rising from his knee, roses tipping in his arm. He wrapped Yu in an embrace that smelled of cologne and petals, suffocating and possessive, and pressed his lips against Yu's lips, temple, his cheek, desperate to mark him in front of everyone.
Applause broke like thunder. Cheers rose around them. Students clapped, squealed, and filmed with phones high in the air. Petals rained down like mock blessings.
And Yu… Yu smiled, bright and hollow, clutching the ring as though it weren't a shackle tightening around his soul.