The door clicked open.
Aster stepped into the house quietly, the faint scent of beef stew and fresh herbs greeting him like a warm blanket. The lights were dimmed, cozy. In the living room, Finn was lying on the floor with his little legs flopped up, drawing on a coloring mat with absolute concentration.
"Brother!" he squeaked, spotting Aster. "You're home! Look! I draw uncle and you and me! We eat big cake!"
Aster chuckled, dropping his bag by the couch and kneeling beside the little boy. "Wow, that's a huge cake, baby. Did we eat it all?"
Finn nodded solemnly. "You eat the most. Uncle say you have a monster stomach."
"Monster stomach?" Aster gasped with exaggerated horror. "I'm being slandered in my own home."
Finn giggled and tried to tackle him, his tiny arms flopping around Aster's neck like a koala. Aster scooped him up easily and hugged him tight.
Adrian appeared from the hallway, his sleeves rolled up, a dish towel slung over his shoulder. "You're just in time for dinner," he said smoothly, but his smile slowly lessen.
They locked onto Aster's face. Then—
Adrian's eyes narrowed slightly.
Aster knew the moment he noticed.
The faint swelling near his cheekbone. The thin red line just beneath the layer of makeup he hadn't fully wiped off. The very small tear in the side of his lips. Subtle. But not subtle enough for Adrian.
"You're late," Adrian said, his tone light—but his gaze lingered, sharp. He approached slowly, crossed the room like a lion scenting something out of place.
"Sorry," Aster replied easily, nuzzling Finn's cheek. "The shoot ran longer than expected. Traffic too."
Adrian stood in front of him now. Still waiting.
Still silent.
Finn wiggled in Aster's arms, completely unbothered. "Uncle make soup! Finn loves soup! He say you better eat lots or you become a skeleton!"
Adrian smiled faintly, then reached out and ran his thumb under Aster's jaw. A brief touch. Gentle. But it made Aster stiffen.
Adrian didn't press.
Instead, he turned to Finn. "Why don't you show your brother the chocolate cake we saved for him?"
"Cake!" Finn slid off Aster and ran to the kitchen like a shot.
Aster moved to follow—but Adrian caught his wrist. Not roughly. Just firmly.
Their eyes met.
Adrian didn't speak.
And Aster, in that moment, didn't either.
He simply pulled his hand back, gave a sheepish shrug, and said, "I'll wash up."
Later, after dinner—after Finn had fallen asleep mid-chew during his second slice of cake and been tucked into bed with his stuffed dinosaurs—Aster sat on the couch, legs curled under him, idly flipping through a script.
Adrian didn't sit beside him.
He walked straight into the bedroom, pulled out his phone, and dialed.
"Get me everything from the movie shoot today," he said to his assistant. "Any unusual visitors. Security records. Any footage."
A pause.
"I want names. Background. Associates."
Another pause.
"And don't mention this to Aster. I want to know who put that bruise on him—before he thinks he has to hide it again."