Yu moved slowly through Sakura's apartment, every step deliberate, as though he were walking through fog. The diaper bag sat open on the table, and he placed things inside with trembling hands—bottles, extra clothes, the twins' favorite toys.
Taro squirmed in his arms, giggling as he reached for the strap of the carrier, while Kenji babbled impatiently in the stroller, little fists pounding against the safety bar. Their sounds should have lightened his heart. Instead, the warmth only made the knot inside him worse.
He whispered to himself.
"It's just the park. Just the park. Nothing more."
But even as he strapped Taro securely to his chest and tucked Kenji beneath the stroller's shade, his chest burned with guilt. Guilt for wanting warmth from the wrong person. Guilt for agreeing to meet at all.
---
The air outside was crisp, early sunlight draping the path in shifting gold. Yu walked slowly, stroller wheels clicking softly against the pavement, Taro nestled warm against him. Kenji squealed at every squirrel that skittered by, at the bright yellow of flowers giving their last bloom, at the flicker of birds beginning their great migration journey.
Yu let himself smile faintly. Their coos were like tiny anchors keeping him from drifting away. He reached down to brush Kenji's little hand, felt Taro's head nestle against his chest, and thought.
'Maybe… maybe Isuke won't come.'
The thought scared him and soothed him all at once. Would relief come if Isuke didn't show? Or disappointment? He hated that he couldn't decide.
He sat at a bench beneath a half-blooming tree, leaning back as the sun pressed warm across his skin. He closed his eyes for a moment, pretending, imagining—if only it were Taichi who would come walking down the path, arms open, words ready to mend what had broken.
Then he heard his name.
"Yu."
His eyes flew open, his heart leapt—
'Taichi.'
But it wasn't.
Isuke strolled down the path, his smile soft, measured, almost tender. The warmth in his voice carried like he'd been waiting years for this moment.
Yu's throat closed. The babies babbled, unaware. His own pulse stumbled, caught between yearning and dread.
Isuke came closer, unhurried, as though this meeting had always been inevitable. He sat beside Yu, close enough their shoulders brushed, his smile never fading.
"Yu."
He said softly, almost reverently.
"I'm glad you invited me out."
Yu's hands tightened on the stroller's handle. The warmth of the sun, the soft sounds of his boys babbling, none of it soothed the storm in his chest. Sitting beside Isuke—so close that he could feel the brush of fabric when the breeze shifted—was unbearable. He half expected Isuke's hand to reach for him at any moment, to press the line further.
But instead, silence stretched. Yu's heart pounded harder with every passing second, as if waiting for the blow.
When Isuke finally spoke, his voice wasn't sharp or demanding. It was soft, almost… normal.
"So…"
Isuke leaned forward slightly, eyes falling to the stroller, then to Taro resting warm against Yu's chest.
"These must be my nephews."
Yu froze. His breath caught. He had braced for words aimed at him, not at the twins. His cheeks flushed, unprepared for this direction.
"Y-Yes."
He stammered.
The tension cracked in an unexpected way. Almost without thinking, Yu unstrapped Taro from his carrier. His son wriggled, reaching toward the unfamiliar man with the same innocence he gave to anyone who smiled his way. Yu hesitated—then, almost against himself, offered.
"Do… do you want to hold him?"
Isuke's eyes widened. He hadn't expected this gift. His hands, normally so sure, trembled slightly as Yu placed Taro into his arms. The baby settled quickly, staring up with round green eyes before patting at Isuke's chest.
And then it happened.
Taro gurgled and babbled, before letting out a clear, bright.
"Papa!"
The world stopped.
Yu's face burned red with embarrassment.
"N-no, Taro— That's not… I'm sorry. He—he must've just mistaken you for…"
He trailed off, unable to finish.
Isuke's heart pounded with something dark and sweet. He smiled—not his usual sharp grin, but something soft, indulgent.
"It's alright."
He said, his voice smooth, steady. He held Taro closer, almost reverently, like a father savoring his child's first recognition.
"It's more than alright."
Yu's stomach twisted. His son's mistake felt like betrayal. And yet, watching Isuke cradle Taro with such tenderness made his chest ache in ways he couldn't name.
Yu's arms automatically went for Kenji in the stroller, clutching him close to his chest as if to anchor himself. But Kenji squirmed, reaching his small hands out toward Isuke, babbling insistently.
Then, clear as bells, came the word that made Yu's stomach drop.
"Papa!"
Yu's cheeks flamed with heat, shame and confusion tangling in his chest.
"Kenji, no."
He whispered, voice shaky, soft but chastising.
"That's not Papa… Papa's at work."
But Kenji wriggled harder, reaching for Isuke, who only chuckled warmly.
With one arm already holding Taro, Isuke stretched out his free hand and scooped Kenji up as well, effortlessly balancing both boys against his body.
The twins wasted no time—tugging at his collar, chewing on his knuckles, tugging at his tie. Isuke didn't flinch or scold; he let them have their way, laughing under his breath like a patient father indulging his children.
"They're strong…"
He said softly, voice colored with awe.
"And lively. Just like their… mother."
His eyes flicked toward Yu meaningfully, his smile tender.
"They know family when they see it. Even if words confuse them now."
Yu's breath caught. His hands twisted in his lap, guilt gnawing at him. It should have been Taichi here, laughing with their children, letting them tug his hair and chew his fingers. But it wasn't Taichi—it was Isuke.
And the twins, innocent and trusting, had welcomed him as if it were natural.
"I-It's just because you… look a little like him,"
Yu mumbled, trying to explain away the twins' mistake.
"They'll understand when they're older."
Isuke's smile deepened, his voice lowering into something soft, coaxing.
"Maybe. Or maybe they already see something you're too afraid to admit."
Yu's pulse jumped. He wanted to argue, to push him away. But the warmth radiating from Isuke as he held the twins, the gentleness of his tone, pressed against the hollow ache inside him. Taichi's absence. The late nights. The perfume. The lipstick stain. The neglect.
And here was Isuke, filling the silence Taichi had left behind.
Yu's eyes burned with tears he couldn't stop. He looked away, trembling, feeling both sickened and desperate for the comfort he'd been starved of.
Yu's arms tightened instinctively around his jacket as though he could shield himself from the dangerous warmth radiating off Isuke. His throat worked, but when the words finally tumbled out, they cracked and wavered.
"Y-you're wrong… Taichi will always… always have my heart. I'll only ever love him. Taro and Kenji's father is Taichi, and the babies I'm carrying… they'll always be his too. No one else's."
Saying it out loud left Yu trembling. His conviction was real, but his voice shook, betraying the exhaustion, the hunger for reassurance he hadn't felt from Taichi in months.
For a long beat, Isuke said nothing. He looked down at the twins squirming in his arms, their tiny fists tugging at his tie, their laughter spilling bright into the air. When he finally spoke, his tone was startlingly soft, almost gentle.
"That's fine."
He murmured, brushing his nose against Taro's hair, inhaling like he wanted to memorize them.
"So long as you accept my love—for you, and for them. That's enough for me."
He pressed a kiss to Kenji's head, his expression melting into something tender, almost reverent.
"They already see me as family. You don't have to say anything now. Just… let me stay by your side. Let me care for you the way he's too busy to."
Yu's mouth fell open, but no words came. His chest tightened, his stomach twisted, his whole being shaking with the conflict inside him.
This wasn't the Isuke he remembered—the arrogant, manipulative boy who had harassed him, who had stolen secrets, who had betrayed him. This Isuke, sitting in the sun, holding his children with surprising gentleness and smiling with an openness that felt uncomfortably real, disarmed him completely.
Yu wanted to scream, to snatch the twins back, to run. Yet he sat frozen, Kenji clinging to his shirt, Taro giggling in Isuke's arms, and all he could do was tremble. His mind shouted no, but his body… his heart… they ached in the confusion of wanting warmth, of needing someone to fill the void Taichi had left.
He didn't give Isuke an answer. He couldn't. Which was exactly what Isuke wanted.
Isuke's smile widened just slightly, triumphant in its softness.
Isuke shifted Taro against his shoulder, rocking him as though he'd done this a hundred times before. Kenji tugged playfully at his collar, and Isuke's smile softened.
"Look at them, they are so cute. Just like you."
He murmured, eyes flicking back to Yu.
"They already know. They feel it—what I feel. That I love them, that I love you. This—"
His free hand gestured at the three of them together.
"—this is family. Ours."
Yu swallowed hard, hugging himself tighter with his hands against his chest.
"Taichi is their father, though."
He whispered, more to steady himself than to correct Isuke.
Isuke leaned closer, lowering his voice until it wrapped around Yu like velvet.
"I know. And that's fine. I'm not trying to take his place… not if you don't want me to. But let me be here too. Let me see them, let me love them. You don't have to fight me, Yu. You don't have to be alone in this."
Yu's lips parted, trembling. He wanted to scream no, to draw a line. But the twins' giggles and Isuke's steady arms were louder than his faltering voice. His defenses collapsed into a fragile compromise.
"…You… you can visit them. When I have time, I‐I'll message you."
Yu said finally, his voice so faint it barely carried.
"Maybe… maybe you should try to get along with Taichi too. For their sake."
For a moment, something sharp flashed in Isuke's eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. He smiled, tender and triumphant.
"If that's what you want… then I'll do it. For you."
Yu extended his arms, and Isuke reluctantly handed Taro and Kenji back. The warmth of the babies gone from his arms left a visible chill in his posture, but he forced another smile.
Yu strapped both twins securely, his movements hurried, clumsy, as though afraid to linger too long.
"We should go. Sakura and Haruka are waiting, and I don't want them to get suspicious."
Isuke's lips curved faintly as he stood.
"Of course. I understand."
He glanced once more at the twins before meeting Yu's eyes.
"Thank you… for this."
Yu couldn't reply. His throat was tight with guilt and confusion.
He pushed the stroller back down the sunlit path, his legs trembling with each step. The twins babbled happily, reaching for squirrels and birds again, their innocent joy a painful contrast to the storm inside him.
Yu's thoughts circled endlessly.
'What did I just allow?'
He knew he shouldn't have agreed, shouldn't have let Isuke hold them, shouldn't have given him a place in their lives. And yet… he had.
His chest ached with guilt for betraying Taichi's trust, for betraying himself. But beneath it all, there was a shameful kernel of warmth—of relief—that someone, anyone, had looked at him and the twins with such open devotion.
Yu lowered his head, tears slipping down his cheeks as he walked, silent but shattered.
---
When Yu returned to the apartment that day, stroller wheels squeaking against the tile floor of the entrance, he plastered on the faintest smile. Sakura and Haruka greeted him warmly, asking about the walk, remarking on the color in his cheeks, the soft glow of sunlight lingering on his skin.
Yu nodded, whispered something about the twins loving the flowers, and ducked his head before they could look too closely at his trembling eyes. He busied himself with unbuckling Taro and Kenji, cooing at them, letting their laughter fill the silence where his voice failed him. The girls exchanged knowing smiles, believing Yu was slowly healing.
But inside, Yu's chest was a battlefield—guilt twisting against want, shame tangled with the sick relief of warmth he shouldn't crave.
---
The days blurred, then hardened into weeks. A steady rhythm formed, though not the kind anyone would call normal.
During the Day, Yu made excuses to take the twins out—
"Sunshine was good for babies."
—He'd tell Sakura and Haruka with a soft laugh. They encouraged it, relieved to see him venturing outside again. But Yu's real destinations were carefully chosen shadows:
An isolated path at the park, where Isuke would be waiting with that same patient smile.
A playground closed for "maintenance," quietly rented by Isuke to ensure their privacy.
Sometimes, Yu even stepped into Isuke's private manor, built too close to his and Taichi's own home to be coincidence, its opulent walls swallowing his protests.
He always returned by the evenings—when Taichi returned from work, tired and disheveled, Yu dropped the twins off at their father's home. He never stepped inside himself. He would hand over reminders—
"Don't forget Kenji's teething gel."
or
"Taro likes the blue blanket at nap time"
—but he never looked Taichi in the eye.
Taichi thought Yu was still hurt, still needing space. He accepted it with quiet patience, though each evening's silence carved him hollow.
The girls believed Yu was mending. Taichi believed Yu was still angry.
But Yu knew the truth:
The bond between them had grown taut, fragile as spun glass.
Each secret meeting with Isuke made the silence heavier. Each evening of not looking Taichi in the eyes made his heart feel more like a stranger's inside his own chest.
And still, he carried on. Because even fragile glass can gleam, and Yu didn't know if he had the strength to shatter it.
Every meeting left Yu shaken, torn between guilt and a warmth he couldn't deny.
Isuke was attentive in ways Taichi no longer seemed to be. He held the twins with a gentleness that unnerved Yu, coaxing their laughter and easing their fussiness. He asked about the babies in Yu's belly, not as a passing question but with detail—
"Did they kick yet?"
"Were the cravings strong?"
"Are you sore?"
He would rub Yu's swelling stomach with slow, deliberate care, whispering reassurances that everything would be fine.
The pampering soothed Yu's body, but not his heart. His heart ached, yearned for Taichi's hands to be the ones smoothing away his discomfort, Taichi's voice to be the one murmuring against his skin. Every gesture from Isuke only reminded him of the void left by Taichi's absence. It was like living on scraps of light while starving for the sun.
When Isuke smiled at him, Yu forced himself to smile back. But in the back of his mind, his silent mantra never changed.
'It should be Taichi. Only Taichi.'
For Taichi, the silence was unbearable.
He rose early, donned his shop pressed suit, and went to the office where every task became another brick on his shoulders. He worked hard, saved every yen he could, determined that one day Yu and the children would want for nothing. His pride stung at the fact that his father's hand had opened this door for him, but Taichi swallowed it. He couldn't afford to fail.
At night, he returned to a house that felt less like a home and more like a tomb. The quiet walls mocked him. Yu's laughter, once the lifeblood of the rooms, had long vanished. Dust gathered in corners, dishes sometimes lingered in the sink, and the bedsheets carried no warmth.
Only in the evenings, when Yu dropped off the twins for a few hours, did Taichi breathe again. Taro's giggles and Kenji's clumsy clapping filled the emptiness, reminding him of what was slipping further and further away. He clung to those hours, pouring all of his love into the boys, hoping they would carry his warmth back to Yu.
And when they left, the silence came crashing back, heavier than before.
Meanwhile, each meeting with Isuke blurred Yu's lines of resistance.
Isuke was patient in the way predators often are, pressing just enough to push but never hard enough to send Yu running. He savored the way Yu leaned into him—those trembling moments when Yu's hands gripped his sleeve, when his eyes grew glassy and desperate for warmth. Every tear, every wavering smile became another brick removed from Yu's defenses.
Yu knew it was wrong, every fiber of him screamed it was wrong. But he was exhausted. Taichi's absence left him raw and empty, and Isuke filled the silence with doting care, with murmured reassurances, with touches that blurred the line between comfort and temptation.
'It should be Taichi…'
Yu repeated to himself like a prayer, but with each passing week the words lost conviction. His reliance on Isuke grew, quiet but undeniable, and Isuke reveled in it—each visit confirming what he had always believed:
Yu belonged with him.
---
One evening, when Yu dropped off the twins, Taichi noticed the small things. Little gestures that kept piling up with each drop off that lingered in Taichi's photographic mind.
The way Yu avoided his eyes, how his voice wavered even when speaking simple pleasantries. How his hands, once steady and quick when fastening the boys' jackets, now trembled just slightly. How his smiles came a beat too late, forced into place.
At first, Taichi told himself it was the stress of the pregnancy. That Yu was still angry with him, still hurting from their fight. But this night, as Yu adjusted Taro's blanket, Taichi caught the faintest shadow in his eyes—a hollowness he didn't recognize.
Something in Yu was breaking, crumbling in ways Taichi couldn't piece together. And as much as he wanted to step forward, to take Yu into his arms and beg him to lean on him again, the wall between them only seemed to grow taller.
The collision was coming. Taichi could feel it, like storm clouds gathering above their fragile family.
The evening was already tense before the words even started. Yu was fastening Kenji into the stroller when Taichi's hand shot out, strong fingers curling around his wrist.
"Yu…"
Taichi's voice cracked, desperate.
"This is enough. Please—just come back. I'm trying, I swear I'm trying, but it feels like you're not even moving forward with me anymore."
Yu froze, the twins' babbles filling the silence like a cruel chorus. His chest heaved.
"Me?"
He snapped, voice sharp as glass.
"It was you who did this, Taichi. You who cheated—"
"I never—"
"And then you accused me!"
Yu's throat shook with the words, hot tears brimming.
"You accused me of betraying you, of carrying another man's children when I've only ever loved you!"
His free hand flew to his belly, trembling, protective.
"Do you know what that did to me? To us?"
Taichi's grip faltered, guilt flooding his face.
"I was wrong, Yu, I was stupid—those words, I regret them every day. But I swear, I've never cheated on you, not once. Not ever."
Yu bit his lip so hard it nearly bled.
"Then explain the photos. Of you in nightclubs, with women all around you, laughing, smiling like some—some playboy! Isuke showed me."
The name landed like a blow. Taichi's eyes widened, his jaw tightened.
"You're… you're talking to Isuke?"
His voice was disbelieving, then sharpening into anger.
"Yu, why? Why would you—after everything he did to you—"
Yu's silence was shaky, guilty, but his words were a dagger of defiance.
"Because at least he listens. Because he's family, Taichi, whether you like it or not. And when I was breaking, when I needed someone, he was there."
The fury in Taichi's chest boiled over.
"Family? That man tormented you! He nearly destroyed you! And you let him near you? Near our kids?"
He yanked Yu's wrist, pulling him closer, eyes blazing.
"No more. You'll stay away from him. I forbid it. You're not leaving this house again!"
"Stop! You're hurting me!"
Yu struggled, his cries sharp and desperate. His wrist burned under Taichi's grip, his eyes wide and terrified.
The twins' cries burst out then, high-pitched and panicked, wailing.
"Mama! Mama! Waahhh!"
"Waaahh! Mama! Waahhh!"
The sound cut through Taichi like knives, snapping him out of his rage. His grip slackened, his breath harsh and ragged.
Yu tore his arm free, clutching it to his chest as tears streaked down his cheeks. His voice was shaking, but steady with resolve.
"I don't want to see you right now, Taichi. Not like this. If you want to see the twins, come to the apartment. But you won't see me. Not for a while."
Taichi opened his mouth, but no words came. He only watched as Yu soothed the crying boys, strapping them securely into the stroller. Yu's whispers were soft, tender, even as his own shoulders shook.
Then, without another word, Yu turned, pushing the stroller away from him. Each step was heavy, each sob-laced coo to calm the twins another wall rising between them.
The door closed on Taichi, leaving him with nothing but the echoes of his own rage and the sound of his children's cries fading down the street.