Yu lay quietly on the padded recline of the exam chair, the gel still cooling on his belly under his baggy sweater. The monitor beside him had gone dark, though the afterimage of the two flickering heartbeats lingered in his mind like tiny stars. His hands rested protectively over the slight curve of his stomach.
Sakura had gone outside the room with the doctor, her notebook already bristling with scribbles about nutrition, vitamins, and red flags to watch for. Yu had smiled at her fussing, grateful, but now in the silence, his chest tightened. The room felt too large, too empty. He curled his fingers against the blanket and whispered under his breath.
"Taichi… you should be here."
The door eased open with a soft click. Yu's heart leapt as he sat up, thinking maybe Sakura had come back, but it wasn't her.
Isuke slipped inside. His presence was like a shadow crawling across the floor, quiet but unmistakable. He wore no smirk, no mask of arrogance—only a carefully crafted tenderness, as though he belonged here. He stood in front of Yu with casual ease, as if he had been waiting for him.
"Yu…"
He said softly, his voice low, almost intimate.
"Are you alright?"
Yu stiffened, every muscle tightening. His instinct was to recoil, but his body was heavy from exhaustion, his heart already raw from tears. The sound of his name in Isuke's mouth, spoken so gently, scraped at him in ways he hated.
"I…"
Yu's voice caught in his throat. He turned his face away, toward the drawn curtain, his hands curling tighter around his belly.
"Why are you here?"
Isuke leaned forward, folding his hands, watching him with eyes that burned too intently.
"Because I care. Because I heard you would be here. I needed to see for myself that you're safe. That they're safe."
His gaze flicked to Yu's stomach, and his smile softened—genuine, or convincingly close to it.
"You shouldn't be left alone like this."
Yu's pulse thudded in his ears. For a moment, the words almost sounded right. Almost. But the memory of Taichi's absence, the echo of Sakura's reassurance, and the heaviness of the images Isuke had shown him days ago all tangled together, leaving Yu frozen.
Isuke reached, slow and careful, as if touching something fragile. His hand hovered over Yu's, not quite daring to close the distance yet.
"Tell me, Yu… does he even deserve you?"
The question hung like smoke in the sterile air, and Yu's silence was answer enough for Isuke's delusion to deepen.
Yu's throat closed the moment Isuke's words sank in. His chest rose in sharp little gasps he couldn't suppress. He shook his head, trying to deny, but the tears came anyway—hot, stinging, endless.
Isuke's face softened into what looked like concern.
"Shh… don't cry, Yu."
He leaned in, arms spreading open.
"You'll make yourself sick… come here."
Yu should have pulled away. Should have shouted. But the loneliness gnawed too deep, and the memory of Taichi's strong, grounding embrace cut sharper than the cold hospital air. When Isuke folded him into his chest, the warmth, the steadiness, the scent of another body against him—it shattered his last defense. He clung back, trembling.
'I just want Taichi…'
But Taichi wasn't here.
Isuke's breath brushed Yu's hair. He rocked him gently, one broad hand rubbing slow circles over his back.
"That's it… just lean on me. I'll take care of you."
His voice was low, soothing, but beneath it was a hunger that curled at the edges.
Yu's sobs ebbed into little whimpers. He hated it, hated himself, but he couldn't stop leaning closer.
Isuke tilted his head, his lips grazing the shell of Yu's ear before trailing lower. He nuzzled against Yu's neck, savoring how pliant he was in his arms. Slowly, savoring the moment, he angled Yu's chin up with his hand and pressed his lips to Yu's.
Yu froze. His mind screamed no but his body didn't move. His heart fluttered sickly, his stomach knotted, and still he sat there, breath stolen.
When he didn't fight back, Isuke deepened the kiss. It was tender, coaxing, as if he were drawing a promise from Yu's silence. When at last he pulled back, he murmured against his lips.
"I can always make time for you, Yu. Always be there whenever you need me. But you need to help me too. Just a little."
Isuke leaned away just enough so he could gaze at Yu's glossy red eyes.
"You probably already know I'm being trained to be the heir of Arifukua Corporation, so I can't keep sneaking away to see you. So after this time, tell me when you want time for us."
He let his arms slip away, and the sudden absence made Yu's body lurch forward, his hand clung to Isuke's cuffs, craving the warmth even as his mind recoiled.
Isuke chuckled softly at the sight.
"So cute."
He whispered, planting a quick, teasing peck on Yu's lips before stepping away.
At the door, he paused, looking back, his smile unguarded and strange in its sincerity.
"I love you, Yu. Never forget that."
Then he slipped out, leaving only silence behind.
Yu stood shaking, tears streaking his cheeks, lips tingling with shame and confusion.
'What did I just do?'
His arms wrapped protectively around his belly, as if to shield his children from the storm inside him.
The door opened again. This time it was Sakura, her smile bright and oblivious as she carried a folder of pamphlets.
"Yu, the doctor said—"
She stopped, blinking.
"Are you okay? Your eyes are red. Well, like redder than normal."
Yu forced a smile, tugging the blanket higher to hide his trembling.
"I… just got emotional again. Seeing them on the screen."
Sakura softened immediately, mistaking his brokenness for joy, and Yu nodded along, keeping the secret buried, even as the weight of it crushed him.
---
Yu returned from the hospital appointment with Sakura, the faint hum of the sonogram still echoing in his ears, the phantom weight of Isuke's hands still burning on his skin. He wanted nothing more than to collapse into silence, but the moment the apartment door opened, his world tilted.
Taichi was inside.
'Haruka must have let him in.'
He was on the floor with the twins, Taro giggling in his arms while Kenji squealed and reached for his papa's face. Taichi's tired eyes softened with a kind of joy Yu hadn't seen in weeks, and for a heartbeat, Yu's chest ached with longing.
Then the guilt surged. Then the anger.
"Yu."
Taichi breathed, as if the world had finally given him back his air. He started to rise, bouquet of roses set neatly on the table beside him.
"You're back. I—"
Yu's stomach twisted, his hand instinctively covering the swell of his belly. His voice cracked sharper than he intended.
"What are you doing here?"
Taichi froze, his arms stilling around Taro. Kenji blinked at the sudden shift in the air.
"I came to see you. To apologize. To tell you… I've been promoted, Yu. Things are going to be better now. I can be home more, I can—"
Yu's nails dug into his palm.
'Better now?'
The images Isuke had shown him seared across his mind—Taichi smiling, drinking, women pressing close. And the echo of Taichi's own accusation, asking if their babies were even his. The bouquet mocked him from the table, as if flowers could mend the fractures splitting him apart.
"You think a promotion fixes this?"
Yu's voice trembled, equal parts fragile and furious.
"Fixes you disappearing, coming home stinking of alcohol, perfume? Fixes you looking me in the eye and asking if I'm carrying your children?"
The twins stirred at his raised voice, their tiny whimpers thickening the air. Taichi looked gutted, as though Yu had carved the words straight into him.
"Yu… I—"
But Yu held his ground, tears threatening to spill, his heart screaming with love, fear, betrayal all tangled into a knot he didn't know how to untie.
The roses sat like a wound on the table, too bright, too soft for the storm already breaking.
Taichi tried, stumbling over his words as he apologized again and again, his voice raw.
"Yu, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it—I wasn't thinking, I was exhausted, I—"
Yu cut him off, his tone sharper than the tears glinting in his eyes.
"No, Taichi. What you did… what you said… it wasn't something you just erase with flowers and a few 'sorrys.' You left me. You doubted me. You asked if our babies were even yours."
The air cracked.
Sakura and Haruka exchanged glances, sensing the storm no words could stop. Without a word, Sakura quietly rose, lifting Kenji while Haruka gathered Taro, both women slipping out to the next room. The small click the door shutting left only silence—and the sound of Yu's trembling breath.
Now it was just the two of them.
Taichi stepped closer, desperation etched in every line of his face.
"Yu, please. I've been killing myself at work to give you everything, to give our kids everything. I wanted to make up for—"
"But you didn't give me you, Taichi!"
Yu's voice cracked, the sob bursting through.
"I needed you here. I needed your words, your warmth. Not some promotion, not money, not… this—"
He gestured toward the bouquet, bitterness flooding his voice.
Taichi staggered back, as if Yu had struck him again. He swallowed hard, guilt thick in his throat.
"I can't come home yet."
Yu whispered, fragile but firm.
"I need… I need time. To heal. To think. You can visit the twins, but me? I… I can't."
Panic flared in Taichi's chest, eating away at the edges of his restraint. His mind screamed:
Yu's leaving me.
The words tumbled out, ragged and frantic.
"No—don't say that. Please, Yu. Don't leave me. Don't…"
Yu shook his head, pain and exhaustion written across his face.
"Stop. You're pushing me further away. Just… leave, Taichi. Please."
For a moment, Taichi stood frozen, trembling with everything unsaid. His pride, his regret, his desperate love. But Yu's words were final. If he pushed harder, he would shatter him completely.
So, with effort that nearly broke him, he moved toward the door.
Yu's voice followed him, soft, shaking.
"Take back the roses. Seeing them… it hurts."
Taichi looked at the bouquet, his throat closing. He shook his head weakly.
"They were for you. If you want… throw them away."
And with that, he sulked toward the door, opening it with trembling fingers. The soft click of it closing behind him left Yu standing in silence, heart torn open, the air heavy with the absence of everything that used to feel whole.
The silence after Taichi's departure weighed heavy until the soft pad of feet returned. Sakura and Haruka, each with a twin settled against their shoulders, found Yu curled on the couch, hands gripping the hem of his sweater so tightly his knuckles had gone white.
He lifted his head when they entered, eyes already shimmering with unshed tears. His voice cracked as he whispered the words Taichi had thrown at him.
"He… he accused me of cheating. Said maybe… maybe the baby isn't even his."
The twins stirred faintly at the tremor in Yu's voice. Sakura's jaw clenched, anger flickering in her eyes as she settled Kenji into his crib.
"How dare he say that to you? After everything you've given him? After carrying his children, loving him with everything you are?"
Haruka gently rubbed Yu's back as he broke fully, sobbing into his hands.
"You've been loyal to him since the beginning, Yu. If anything, he's the one who should be proving himself to you, not questioning your devotion."
Their words were meant as comfort, but they cut Yu deeper. He cried harder, guilt clawing at him from the inside. If they knew—if they knew about Isuke's lips on his, about his own weakness in that moment—they'd never forgive him. They'd never look at him the same way again.
Yu clutched Haruka's shirt and shook his head desperately.
"Please, don't hate him. He's tired. He's… he's just tired… I also thought…"
The excuses felt hollow even as he said them, but it was all he could manage between sobs. His body trembled, the babies in his belly stirring faintly as if responding to his distress. Sakura and Haruka shared a glance, their resolve hardening even as Yu broke apart in their arms.
---
The night air hit colder than expected when Taichi stepped outside. Roses left behind, head bowed low, he stumbled down the street without direction.
His mind echoed with Yu's words, with the slap still stinging faintly on his cheek, with the dead, lifeless eyes that had stared at him like a stranger.
He tried to reason with himself—It was exhaustion, stress, too much alcohol, too much work. But those excuses only made him feel smaller, weaker. None of them justified the way he had made Yu look at him then.
By the time he reached the park, his legs buckled, and he dropped heavily onto a bench. Fall leaves tumbled to the ground, scattering across the dirty pathway. He stared at them as if they were pieces of his own heart.
His chest hurt. Not just ache, but sharp, piercing, as if something essential had been carved out. His mind flashed with every moment he had once held Yu's smile, every whisper of—
"I love you"
—in the dark, every laugh with the twins. And now?
Now he had nothing but silence, a closed door, and the image of Yu walking away from him.
Taichi pressed his palms over his face and let the tears come, unrestrained. For the first time in years, he didn't care who saw him break.
---
The new office felt heavier than the last—not because the work was harder, but because the weight of expectation pressed down on Taichi's shoulders with every step. He knew he hadn't earned this promotion; it was his father's hand pulling strings. That truth gnawed at him, made his pride burn, but he swallowed it down.
'I can't lose Yu. I can't lose the twins. Not now. Not ever.'
So he pushed himself harder than anyone else. He arrived before dawn, his tie straight, his suit pressed freshly from the shop—no more stains, no more mess. He greeted coworkers, volunteered for tasks, handled meetings with a discipline that left others nodding in approval. Slowly, people stopped whispering that he was "handed" the position and began admitting he was fitting into it.
But when the clock struck evening, Taichi didn't linger. He clocked out right on time, ignoring the stack of extra files begging for attention. He needed to be home. Needed to clean the floors, fold laundry, wash dishes—small tasks, but each one a prayer that Yu might walk back in and find the home warm and ready for him.
When the twins visited, he wanted them to see order, not chaos. He wanted Yu to see effort, proof that Taichi wasn't just words and apologies but action. The ache of regret lingered, but he tried to stitch over it with every sweep of the broom and scrub of the sink.
---
The morning light in Sakura's apartment felt gentler, though Yu's body was weary. Dark circles pooled under his eyes, his stomach churned with the twins he carried, but he forced a smile for Sakura and Haruka. They made him tea, fussed over breakfast, insisted he rest while they tidied up and played with the boys.
Yu tried to be grateful, and he was, but he still felt like a ghost drifting through their generosity. The space wasn't his, and the bed wasn't his, and every sound reminded him of what was missing.
Then his phone buzzed.
The name on the screen stopped his breath. Isuke.
His hands shook as he opened the message.
Isuke: When's a good time to meet?
Yu's heart pounded. Fear coiled first—memories of all Isuke had done, the pain, the humiliation. Yet… beneath it, something warmer stirred, something shameful. The memory of strong arms holding him when he'd cried. The way his body had betrayed him, craving comfort even from the wrong hands.
He typed, deleted, typed again.
Yu: How did you get this number?
He finally sent.
No reply came immediately, leaving Yu trembling. He sat there, staring at the phone, torn between the instinct to block the number forever and the aching pull for warmth, for someone to fill the void Taichi had left behind.
The kettle whistled in the kitchen, Sakura humming a soft tune, Haruka laughing with the twins. Yu pressed the phone to his chest, whispering to himself.
"What do I do?"
The silence of the phone was louder than any answer.
Yu sat on the edge of Sakura's sofa, his phone trembling in his hands. The text glared up at him like a trap he should've seen but still stepped into.
He thought of Haruka's warm laugh, Sakura's steady patience, Fumiko's fiery protectiveness. If he showed them this message… Haruka would hug him and tell him to block Isuke instantly. Sakura would frown, quietly but firmly advise.
"Don't give him an inch."
Fumiko would probably march straight to Isuke herself and raise hell.
Yu pressed his forehead to his knees.
'So why can't I just do what I know they'd tell me?'
Because the ache in his chest wouldn't stop. Because even in his fear, he wanted warmth. And because Taichi wasn't here, hadn't been here, not really, for so long.
The buzz of a new message startled him. Yu forced himself to look.
Isuke: I never deleted your number, Yu. I've had it since high school, remember?
Yu's stomach flipped. He remembered all too well—the way Isuke had stolen things from him, little bits of privacy, of dignity. Now even his number had been kept all this time.
Disgust churned, but so did something else: a strange, twisted sense of being wanted. Wanted enough that Isuke never let him go.
Another message followed.
Isuke: So… when can we meet? I'd like to see you again.
Yu chewed his lips raw, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. His chest felt too tight, his thoughts too loud.
'No, block him. No, wait… he's Taichi's half-brother. Isn't that… family? Isn't it okay to meet family?'
'DK…'
Yu whispered in his mind.
'What do I do?'
Silence.
The silence stabbed deeper than any words could. DK01 had been so quiet for so long now that Yu wondered if he was truly alone. Tears threatened again, but Yu bit them back.
His fingers moved on their own.
Yu: Later, I'll take the twins to the park. If you happen to be there… we could talk. That's all.
He hit send before he could stop himself.
---
Somewhere across the city, Isuke leaned back in his chair, reading the words with a slow, curling smile.
'Coy. Nervous. But he said yes.'
He motioned for his secretary without even lifting his eyes from the screen.
"Cancel everything this afternoon. I have… somewhere important to be."
As the door shut, Isuke's grin widened.
'My Yu. Finally.'