Darius regretted it.
The moment he woke up , the memories returned in fragments—blurred but sharp enough to make his ears burn.
He stared at the ceiling, eyes wide open in the early dawn darkness.
He wished he didn't remember anything.
Or at least he wished he remembered less.
The night they arrived, dinner had been quiet.
Painfully quiet.
Without the twins filling every pause with chatter and laughter, the silence between him and Sion felt heavier than armor.
Eiran had eaten quickly and excused himself early, claiming exhaustion. That left the two of them seated across from each other with only the sound of chopsticks and the faint crackle of the lantern flame.
Darius had stared at his bowl, unsure how to begin a conversation.He had tried to think of something to say.
Anything.
But every sentence in his head sounded either too formal or too intimate.
Thankfully—or unfortunately—it was Sion who spoke first.
"How long will you be staying?" Sion asked casually, breaking the silence as if it had never existed.
"A week," Darius answered, then corrected himself. "Maybe two."
Sion hummed softly. "Then feel free to be comfortable."
He stood up and walked toward one of the cabinets, retrieving something wrapped in cloth.
"I almost forgot."
He unwrapped it carefully, revealing a dark glass bottle.
"We made this from last season's harvest."
Homemade fruit wine.
He poured Darius a glass without asking.
"As a welcome," Sion said lightly.
Darius hesitated for a second before accepting it.
The wine was sweeter than he expected, but it carried a warmth that spread quickly through his chest.
They spoke little after that.
At some point, Sion began noticing subtle changes.
Darius' posture softened. His responses slowed. His already quiet nature became even more restrained.
Sion tilted his head slightly.
Interesting.
"You're not very talkative," Sion observed.
"I am," Darius replied seriously.
Sion let out a small laugh.
"Are you?"
Darius nodded firmly.
The wine had clearly begun working.
To confirm something, Sion leaned back slightly and asked in a casual tone:
"If I asked you to help me with something… would you?"
Darius' expression immediately turned solemn.
"Anything," he said without hesitation. "If you ask, I'll do it."
There was no flirtation in his voice.
No hesitation.
Just honest devotion.
Sion blinked once.
Then laughed softly.
"You shouldn't say things like that," he teased. "Someone might take advantage of you."
Darius looked at him with complete sincerity.
"I wouldn't mind," he said.
Sion's smile remained—but his eyes sharpened faintly.
"Wouldn't mind what?"
"Being taken advantage of," Darius replied honestly. "As long as it's you."
The air shifted.
For once—Sion was the one caught off guard.
It lasted only a second.
But it was there.
He straightened slightly and cleared his throat.
"It's late," he said smoothly. "We should sleep."
"Mm."
Darius stood up immediately.
Then, before Sion could process what was happening, Darius reached for his hand.
And pulled him up.
"Darius—"
But Darius was already walking toward Sion's room.
Sion followed, more from surprise than resistance.
Inside the room, Darius guided him to the bed with quiet determination.
"You should rest," he said gently.
Then he pulled the blanket over Sion.
Tucked him in.
Like he was the guest.
Sion stared up at him, stunned into silence.
"Good night," Darius murmured.
And then—
He leaned down.
Pressed a soft kiss against Sion's forehead.
Warm.
Brief.
Uncertain.
Then he patted his head lightly.
Sion's mind completely blanked.
He immediately closed his eyes and pretended to sleep.
He could hear Darius' breathing hesitate.
Wait.
Then retreat.
The door closed quietly.
—
That was the last clear memory Darius had.
Which was precisely the problem.
Now, lying in his own borrowed room before sunrise, his face burned.
Did I really—
He covered his face with both hands.
He had.
He definitely had.
"I'm hopeless…" he muttered.
Sleep was impossible.
He rose quietly and stepped outside.
The house was silent.
But faint sounds drifted from the smallholding.
When he walked toward it, he saw them.
Sion and Eiran were already awake, sleeves rolled, hands busy among the rows of vegetables.
Morning light softened Sion's profile as he inspected leaves, brushing dew from the edges.
Eiran was checking the fruit baskets.
Darius approached carefully.
"Good morning."
They both looked up.
"Morning," Eiran replied.
Eiran gave a small nod. "You're up early."
"I couldn't sleep."
"Too much wine?" Sion teased.
Darius stiffened.
"…Perhaps."
Sion didn't look at him—but the faintest curve touched his lips.
He glanced at the rows.
"It seems you're both really busy."
Sion wiped his hands lightly.
"It's manageable," he said. "But it takes time. And effort."
He straightened, stretching slightly.
"We're used to it."
Darius frowned faintly.
"It looks exhausting."
"It is," Eiran said bluntly. "But it's worth it."
There was pride in that.
Darius nodded slowly.
If there's anything I can help with," Darius added, "please let me."
Eiran smiled. "You can help harvest the eggs."
Darius nodded immediately.
"And…" he hesitated slightly, "may I prepare breakfast afterward?"
Both Sion and Eiran turned immediately.
"No."
"It's enough that you're helping," Sion said calmly. "You're a guest."
"I want to," Darius insisted.
Sion studied him carefully.
That steady, stubborn expression.The same expression he always have when he's serious about something.
"Very well," Sion said at last. "If you insist."
Darius exhaled in relief.
As he continued collecting eggs, his mind raced.
He would apologize later.
When it was just the two of them.
He had to.
Because he didn't know if Sion remembered.
He just hoped—
He truly hoped—
That he hadn't done anything after that.