Two hearts realize their feelings for Aryan

This was the day Aryan's playful actions unknowingly twisted Marco's thoughts.

Marco never imagined that his heart could pound so violently for Aryan—just because he was in a woman's costume.

No girl had ever made him feel this way. Not once. Yet here he was, standing frozen, watching Aryan walk away with that proud, teasing smirk.

'What the hell is wrong with me?' Snapping himself out of it, Marco slapped his own cheeks, startling Aryan.

"What are you doing?" Aryan asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nothing!" Marco replied too quickly. He then noticed Aryan scanning the crowd, clearly searching for a handsome guy to charm. An inexplicable irritation bubbled up inside him. Before he knew it, the words left his mouth—

"Aryan… Do you wanna go on a date with me?"

"Huh?!" Aryan blinked, looking utterly baffled.

"I mean…" Marco fumbled, realizing how that sounded. "You ruined my date, and I had plans to spend the whole day with her. It'd be a waste if I just went home…"

Aryan studied him for a moment before shrugging. "Okay. It is safer to be with you than a stranger, anyway. It's not like I'm looking for an actual date partner. So, where are we going?"

Marco smirked. "What's the fun in telling you beforehand?"

Grabbing a taxi, he took Aryan to a nearby flower show.

The moment they arrived, Aryan's eyes widened in delight. "Wait—how did you know I wanted to come here? Wow…"

Marco only chuckled and stepped out. "Don't move." He walked around to Aryan's side and opened the door for him, offering a hand like a proper gentleman.

Aryan laughed but took his hand anyway. 'He's playing the role better than I expected.'

Marco, on the other hand, found himself enjoying it more than he should. Spending time with Aryan—fulfilling his wishes, seeing his excitement—it didn't feel unnatural. But the emotions stirring inside him did. 'Was this just friendship… or something more?'

Their time at the flower show was perfect—until Aryan groaned dramatically.

"I can't walk anymore…" He pouted, shifting uncomfortably in his heels.

"Really? We haven't even seen half of it, and you're already tired? Come on, no time to waste." Marco rolled his eyes and nudged Aryan forward.

"Marco…" Aryan called weakly, but Marco ignored him, thinking he was just being lazy.

That was until he left Aryan for a moment to buy some drinks—only to turn back and see him sitting on a bench, massaging his feet.

The back of Aryan's heels were red and raw from the friction against the leather.

Marco's stomach twisted in guilt. He never thought it be the reason, Aryan said he can't...

Walking back, he wordlessly handed Aryan a milk-flavored drink and sat beside him. "Here."

Aryan took it, but before he could say anything, Marco muttered, "Sorry…"

"For what?" Aryan blinked, then followed Marco's gaze to his feet. Realizing what he meant, he chuckled. "Are you trying to use your charm on me? Nice try. It won't work." He grinned and forced himself to stand. "I had enough rest, let's go."

Marco frowned. He could see right through the act.

"Don't act tough. You're gonna hurt yourself."

Before Aryan could protest, Marco scooped him up in his arms.

"What the—?! Marco, put me down!" Aryan yelped, hitting his shoulders in embarrassment.

Marco smirked and loosened his grip slightly. "Okay."

Immediately, Aryan latched onto him. Marco burst out laughing.

"You stupid…" Aryan grumbled, his face burning as Marco carried him effortlessly.

Marco smirked. "Well, if I'm stupid, you're the idiot who wore heels when you can't even walk in them."

Aryan huffed, crossing his arms. "I was slaying the look, okay?"

Marco chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. You were so stunning that now I have to carry your lazy ass around."

Aryan wanted to argue, but Marco's grip was steady and warm. Despite his protests, there was a strange sense of comfort in being held like this.

A couple passing by giggled. "Aw, what a cute couple."

Aryan stiffened. Marco's hold on him didn't falter, but he felt his arm tighten slightly around Aryan's back.

"We're not a couple!" Aryan quickly corrected, his voice slightly higher than usual.

The couple just laughed and walked away.

Marco glanced at Aryan's flustered expression and smirked. "Why do you sound so panicked? Afraid of falling for me?"

Aryan scoffed, turning his face away. "Pfft, not a chance. I prefer loyal ones, not playboys. I'm telling you, your hands are going to hurt later—don't say I didn't warn you."

Marco chuckled. 

But deep down, a strange thought crept into his mind—What if I don't mind carrying you like this forever?

Shaking the thought away, Marco kept walking, while Aryan, despite all his complaints, didn't ask to be put down again.

Meanwhile, at Aryan's house…

Eron sat beside his blank canvas, staring at it with frustration. His brushes were ready, the paints set, yet his mind remained empty. Usually, the moment he faced a blank canvas, something—an image, a feeling—would take shape in his mind. But today, nothing came. His thoughts were tangled, complicated, making it impossible to focus.

Kiara's and Rony's words echoed in his head, stirring up emotions he couldn't quite understand. 'What exactly do I feel for Aryan?' He had always known it wasn't purely brotherly, but it wasn't romantic either. He had never questioned it before, never needed to. Yet now, their words made him second-guess everything.

One thing he was certain of—he couldn't imagine a life without Aryan. Aryan was the only person who had ever truly cared for him, the only one who made him feel like he belonged.

Frustrated by the storm of emotions he couldn't decipher, Eron grabbed his paints and poured them onto the canvas in broad, unrestrained strokes. Colors mixed chaotically, mirroring his own turmoil. Slowly, almost unconsciously, the mess of paint started taking the form of a picture—a feeling taking shape through his hands before his mind could even grasp it. 

A sudden knock on the door snapped him out of his trance. He glanced at the unfinished painting before pushing his chair back and walking to the door.

Seeing the butler at this hour surprised him.

"Please, come in," Eron said politely.

"No need." The butler remained at the door, his tone formal, distant. "Madam is hosting a small party tonight. She requests that you… not be here during that time."

Eron's expression didn't change. He had grown used to such requests. Without a word, he reached for his coat, ready to leave.

"Eron," the butler continued, handing him a white envelope thick with cash. "She also asked me to give this to you."

Eron stared at the envelope for a moment before shaking his head. "I don't need it. Return it to her." His voice was calm, but firm.

With that, he turned and walked away, stepping into the cold night without a destination in mind.

He wandered the streets, lost in thought, until his phone buzzed. It was Aryan.

The moment he answered, he could tell Aryan was drunk. His voice was unsteady, his words slurred, yet he still managed to ask, "Where are you?" Then, without waiting for a response, Aryan gave him an address—Marco's house.

A sense of unease settled in Eron's chest. Without wasting a second, he hurried to Marco's place.

What he saw there made his heart stop.

Aryan stood on the balcony railing, arms outstretched in a drunken imitation of a Titanic pose. His body swayed dangerously with the breeze, his balance unsteady.

"Aryan…!" Eron muttered under his breath, panic gripping him as he rushed toward the balcony.

Just as Aryan's footing slipped, Eron grabbed his wrist and yanked him back onto solid ground. His heart pounded violently in his chest.

"What the hell are you doing?! Do you even realize what you were about to do?!" Eron's voice was sharp, filled with raw fear and anger. He had never been this scared before.

But Aryan only looked at him with a lazy, drunken smile, as if completely unaware of the danger he had just been in. His hazy eyes fixated on Eron, drifting slowly to his lips.

And before Eron could react—before he could process anything—Aryan leaned in, pressing his lips against his own.

Eron should have shove him away, but he stood there, unable to resist. The moment was like, Eron finally figure out the answer for all his unanswered questions.