Alex woke to gray light filtering through the windows of his study.
His head ached—a dull, throbbing pressure behind his eyes. The whiskey bottle on the desk was empty. He blinked, disoriented, and realized he was sitting in the leather chair in study room. Not in bed. And Natherine was in his lap.
The boy was curled against his chest, his head tucked under Alex's chin, his breathing slow and even. The morning light caught the soft curve of Natherine's cheek, the dark sweep of his lashes, the slight parting of his lips.
His lips.
They were swollen. Slightly pinker than usual.
Alex didn't move.
He couldn't remember.
He tried to reach back into the night, into the fog of whiskey and exhaustion and the weight of everything he'd been carrying. There had been moonlight. There had been warmth. There had been—
He looked down at Natherine again. At his swollen lips. At the way his shirt had come untucked, the collar loose, revealing the pale column of his throat.
Alex's stomach turned.
What did I do?
Alex closed his eyes. His head throbbed—whiskey and exhaustion.
He looked at the another whiskey bottle on the floor. empty. Too much for a man who rarely drank. He'd been careless. He'd let his guard down, and Natherine had found him, and now—
He couldn't think about that.
Alex took a breath. Then another. Then he shifted Natherine in his arms, one arm under his knees, the other around his back, and stood.
Natherine stirred, murmuring something unintelligible, but didn't wake. His head lolled against Alex's shoulder.
He carried Natherine out of the study.
The hallway was dim, the mansion still quiet. Most of the staff wouldn't be up for another hour. He could make it to Natherine's room without anyone seeing, without anyone asking questions he couldn't answer.
He turned the corner—and stopped.
Jay stood in the hallway, a tablet in one hand, his other hand raised to knock on the study door. He froze when he saw Alex, his eyes going wide, taking in the scene: Alex in his rumpled clothes from the wedding, his shirt unbuttoned, his hair disheveled. Natherine in his arms, still asleep, his lips—
Jay looked away first.
"Cancel the flight," Alex said, his voice low, steady, betraying nothing. He didn't look at Jay, kept his eyes on the path ahead, to stairs. "I'll leave after three days. In my private chopper."
Jay blinked. "But —"
"Three days." Alex's voice left no room for argument. "I'll handle it.”
Jay nodded slowly, his eyes flicking to Natherine again, then away. “Should I—do you want me to—"
"No." Alex's arms tightened around Natherine instinctively. "I got him."
Jay moved ahead in stairs, pushing open the door to Natherine's room. The sketches on the walls, the rumpled bed, the open sketchbook on the desk—all of it familiar, all of it his. Alex carried Natherine to the bed and laid him down gently, pulling the blanket over him, tucking it around his shoulders the way he had a thousand times before.
Natherine stirred, his hand reaching out, grasping for something. His fingers closed around the edge of Alex's sleeve.
“Daddy," he murmured, still half-asleep.
Alex stood very still. He looked down at the boy in the bed—
"Sleep," he said quietly. "I'll be here."
Natherine's grip loosened. His breathing evened out. He sank back into sleep, his face soft, peaceful, trusting.
Alex pulled his arm free and stepped back.Jay was waiting in the hallway.
"You drop him to school today he has important art class," Alex said, closing Natherine's door. "I'm leaving to meet the lawyer."
Jay nodded. "About the guardianship extension?"
"Yes." Alex's voice was flat. " I found new way around."
Jay's eyebrows rose. "Alex, are you alright ”
Alex didn't stop he kept moving forward.
"Alex—”
"Just do as said"
Jay didn't argue. He'd worked for Alex long enough to know when questions weren't welcome. He just nodded again and walked away, his footsteps fading down the corridor.
---
He went to his own room.
Alex closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes closed, his breath coming too fast.
What have you done?
He pushed off from the door and walked to the bathroom. He caught his reflection in the mirror and stopped.
His lips were swollen too.
He leaned closer, studying his own face—the dark circles under his eyes, the stubble on his jaw, the slight redness around his mouth. And then he unbuttoned his shirt.
There, on his chest, just above his heart, was a mark.
A hickey.
Alex's breath left him in a rush. He pressed his fingers to the mark, felt the tenderness of it, and the memory came flooding back.
Natherine's lips on his. The warmth of the boy's mouth. The way he had sucked—gently, softly—and Alex had groaned, had pulled him closer, had lost himself in the taste of him.
His hands on Natherine's waist. Natherine's legs around his hips. The weight of him in Alex's lap, the heat of him through their clothes.
The way he had kissed back. The way he had wanted more. His hands ran through his hair.
Alex turned on the shower. Cold. As cold as it would go.He stripped off his clothes—
He stepped under the spray and gasped as the water hit his skin, ice against the heat that still lingered in his blood. But it didn't help. The memories kept coming—fragments, flashes, the feeling of Natherine's mouth on his, the sound of his breath, the way he had whispered Daddy like a prayer.
Alex's hand moved down his body without his permission.
He closed his eyes, and the shower became something else. He leaned against the tile, his forehead pressed to the cold stone, and let himself imagine.
Natherine in the shower with him. Natherine's body against his. Natherine's mouth on his throat, his chest, lower.
“Nnh—Natherine—"
Alex came with a strangled cry, his body convulsing against the cold tile, his release spilling over his hand, washing away in the freezing water. His legs gave out. He slid down the wall, landing hard on the shower floor, his back against the tile, the water still hammering down on him.
He sat there, trembling, gasping, as the cold slowly seeped into his bones.
When he opened his eyes, he was alone.
He stayed on the floor for a long time.
The water eventually warmed, then grew hot, then scalding. He didn't move. He let it burn, let it punish him, let it wash away the evidence of what he'd done.
But he couldn't wash away the memory of Natherine. Couldn't erase the way his own body had responded—the way he had wanted.
You're a monster, he told himself. He's a child. He doesn't know what he wants. He doesn't know what he's asking for.
But another voice—quieter, more honest—whispered back: He knows. He's always known. You're the one who's been lying to yourself.
He had crossed a line. More than he could balance on. Now he can't back off.
When he finally stood, his legs were unsteady, his body heavy with exhaustion and shame. He stepped out of the shower and caught his reflection in the fogged mirror. He wiped the glass with his palm and stared at the man looking back.
His chest was red from the heat of the water, but the hickey was still there—darker now, more pronounced, a bruise that would take days to fade. His lips were still swollen. His eyes were raw, hollow, haunted.
He looked like a man who had done something unforgivable.
He looked like a man who wanted to do it again.
Alex dressed slowly, mechanically—fresh shirt, fresh trousers, his usual armor and when he looked in the mirror again, he almost looked normal.
Almost.
He walked out of his room and found Jay and Lia speaking in the hallway. They stopped when they saw him. Lia's eyes flickered to his face, to his collar, to something in his expression that Alex couldn't hide.
"Good morning, sir," Lia said softly. "Shall I prepare breakfast?"
"No." Alex's voice came out rougher than he intended. He cleared his throat. "I'm not hungry."
Lia nodded, her gaze still searching, and retreated to the kitchen.
Jay stayed.
“Alex." His voice was careful, measured. "Everything okay?"
"No." Alex's voice was flat, hollow. He didn't look at Jay. Couldn't. "But it will be. I need you to do something for me."
"Anything."
"When you drop Natherine off today, tell him I had to leave early. For a meeting." He paused. "But I will pick him up in the evening."
Jay nodded slowly, his eyes still on Alex's face. He opened his mouth to say something—a question, but then he closed it again.
“Understood," Jay said.
Alex walked past him, toward the front door. Jay followed him as he can't let Alex drive at this state.
After two hours, Jay returned to the mansion.
Natherine was at the breakfast table, already in his uniform, ready for school. His eyes were heavy with sleep, dark circles underneath that hadn't been there yesterday. His hair was still slightly damp, as if he'd just gotten out of the shower.
"Rough night?" Jay asked, setting a plate of food in front of him.
Natherine shrugged. "Couldn't sleep.”
Jay studied him—the way he was avoiding eye contact, the way his fingers kept touching his lips, the way he looked at the empty chair where Alex usually sat and then looked away quickly.
"Alex had to go out," Jay said carefully. "Lawyer meeting. I'm taking you to school."
Natherine nodded. He picked up his fork, set it down, picked it up again.
"Jay?"
"Yeah?”
Natherine hesitated. His fingers pressed against his lips again— nervous.
"Is Daddy okay?"
The question hung in the air.
Jay didn't know how to answer. He didn't know what had happened in the study, didn't know why Alex had looked so broken this morning.
“He will be," Jay said finally. "He always is."
Natherine nodded slowly. “He always comes back," Natherine whispered. It wasn't a question. It sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
Jay pretended not to notice the way Natherine's voice cracked on the words.
"Eat your breakfast," Jay said gently. "I'll have you at school on time."
Natherine picked up his fork. He took a bite, chewed, swallowed. But his eyes stayed on the empty chair.
____
The school day passed in a blur Natherine couldn't focus on.
His art teacher asked him twice to redo a sketch. His history notes were illegible, his hand moving without his brain directing it. Even the lunch table felt wrong—the chair where Alex usually sat when he visited was empty, and Natherine kept glancing at it, expecting him to appear.
"You're quiet today," Fourth observed, stealing a piece of fruit from Gemini's tray.
Natherine shrugged. "Didn't sleep well."
Neoul glanced up from his phone, his eyes sharp. "You look like someone died."
"Neoul," Tharn said quietly, a warning in his voice.
"What? He does. All pale and red-eyed. It's concerning."
Natherine forced a smile. "I'm fine. Just tired."
Fourth exchanged a glance with Gemini. Tharn was watching him too—not staring, concerned.
"You sure?" Tharn asked. "You've barely touched your food."
"I'm not hungry."
"You told hungry earlier, " Neoul said. "Something's wrong."
Natherine shook his head, pushing his tray away. "I just didn't sleep well. That's all."
He could feel the cramping getting worse. A dull, rolling pain low in his abdomen, the kind that meant he needed to find a restroom soon. His body was giving him warnings he couldn't ignore.
"Eat something," Fourth said gently, pushing a piece of fruit toward him. "Even just a little."
Natherine took the fruit to be polite. He didn't eat it. The thought of food made his stomach turn.
The rest of lunch passed in a blur.
The cramping was worse now—sharp, insistent, a clear signal that his body was done waiting.
When the bell rang, he stood too fast. The room tilted. He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself.
"Nat?" Tharn was beside him instantly, his hand hovering near Natherine's elbow. "You okay?"
"Fine." Natherine pulled away, maybe too quickly. "I just need to—I'll see you in class."
He didn't wait for a response. He turned and ran toward the restroom.
But the moment he was inside the restroom stall, with the door locked behind him, his composure cracked.
He leaned against the wall, pressing a hand to his lower stomach, and took a shuddering breath. The pain was worse now—a deep, cramping ache that radiated through his pelvis and down his thighs.
His period.
He'd been so distracted by everything—by the wedding, by the kiss, that he hadn't prepared. His bag was in his locker. His supplies , even his phone were in his bag.
Natherine closed his eyes and pressed his forehead to the cool metal of the stall door.
He was bleeding through his clothes. He had no supplies. He couldn't walk across campus to his locker like this. He couldn't ask for help without explaining why.
And he couldn't explain why.
He heard the restroom door open.
"Nat?"
Tharn's voice.
Natherine's heart stopped. He pressed himself against the stall wall, as if he could make himself invisible.
"Nat, I know you're in here." Footsteps on the tile, slow, careful. "I saw you come in. You've been in here for ten minutes."
Ten minutes? Had it been that long?
"I'm fine," Natherine called out, his voice steadier than he felt. "Just go to class. I'll catch up."
Silence. Then:
"You're not fine. You're pale. You're shaking. And you've been in a restroom stall for ten minutes without coming out."
Tharn's voice was calm, full of concern.
Natherine pressed his hand harder against his stomach. The cramping was relentless now, a wave of pain that made his eyes water.
"Tharn, please. Just go."
"No."
The word was simple. Final.
Natherine heard footsteps approach his stall. Saw the shadow of Tharn's shoes under the gap in the door.
"Nat." Tharn's voice was softer now. "I'm not going to leave you in here alone. Whatever it is—whatever's happening—you can tell me. Or not. But I'm staying."
Natherine's throat tightened. His eyes burned—from the pain, from the frustration, from the overwhelming weight of everything he'd been carrying.
"I can't—" His voice cracked. "I can't come out."
"Why not?"
Natherine closed his eyes. The words stuck in his throat, lodged somewhere between shame and fear and the memory of Alex's voice: “ stay in home during periods”
But Tharn was still there. Still waiting. Still not leaving.
"Because I'm bleeding," Natherine whispered.
Silence.
"Bleeding where? Did you get hurt" Tharn's voice was careful, controlled.
Natherine couldn't answer. The words wouldn't come.
"Natherine." Tharn's voice was gentle now, impossibly gentle. “ Is your lower stomach is paining”
The word hung in the air. Natherine's breath caught.
He nodded, then realized Tharn couldn't see him. "Yes," he whispered.
Silence.
Then: "Okay."
Just okay. No questions. No disgust.
"Okay," Tharn said again. "What do you need me to do just say it?"
Natherine stared at the stall door, at the shadow of Tharn's shoes, at the kindness of a boy who hadn't run away.
"I need—" His voice broke. "I need a sanitary napkin. It's in my locker. But I can't—" He looked down at his pants, at the dark stain spreading on the back of his uniform. "I can't go out there like this. Password 0701"
"Okay," Tharn said again. "Stay here. Don't move. I'll be right back."
Footsteps. The restroom door opening and closing. And then silence.
Natherine sat on the toilet, his head in his hands, and waited.
The cramping hadn't stopped. If anything, it was worse now—a deep, gnawing pain that made him want to curl up and disappear. He thought about Alex. About the way Daddy always brought him tea and a heating pad and sat with him until the worst passed. About how safe he felt in those moments, even when his body was betraying him.
But Alex wasn't here.
"Natherine?"
Tharn.
"Here," Natherine called out, his voice small.
Then a hand appeared under the stall door, holding something—a small package, wrapped in tissue.
"I couldn't not enter your department so I went to school convenience store..didn't know which kind you needed," Tharn said. "So I grabbed a few different ones. And I brought—" Another package appeared. "—...And also my jacket. You can tie it around your waist. To cover the stain."
Natherine stared at the items on the floor. At the care Tharn had taken. At the kindness he hadn't asked for and didn't deserve.
"Tharn—"
"Don't." Tharn's voice was soft. "Just take them. Change. I'll wait outside."
Footsteps. The door opening and closing.
Natherine sat there for a moment, holding the packages in his trembling hands. He did everything slowly as pain seeping in..Tharn's jacket around his waist, covering the stain.
When he opened the stall door, the restroom was empty.
Tharn was outside, leaning against the wall, his phone in his hand. He looked up when Natherine emerged, and his eyes searched Natherine's face—not with curiosity or judgment, but with something softer.
"Better?"
Natherine nodded. His throat was too tight to speak.
Tharn pushed off the wall. He handed a heat pad " Come on. I'll walk you to the nurse. You can lie down there until you feel better."
Natherine didn't move. His feet were rooted to the floor.
Tharn stopped. Turned. Waited.
"You're not going to ask?" Natherine's voice was barely a whisper.
"Ask what?"
"Why I'm like this. Why I bleed like a girl. Why I'm—" His voice cracked. "Why I'm wrong."
Tharn was quiet for a moment. Then he walked back to Natherine and stood in front of him, close enough that Natherine could see the kindness in his eyes.
"You're not wrong," Tharn said. "You're not broken. You're not anything except a person who needs help, and I'm here." He paused. "That's all I need to know.”
Natherine's eyes burned. His vision blurred. A tear slipped down his cheek, then another.
Tharn didn't say anything. He didn't reach out. He just stood there, patient and steady, until Natherine was ready to move.
"Come on," Tharn said again. "Let's get you to the nurse.”
Natherine nodded. He wiped his face with the back of his hand holding the heat pad to his stomach and followed Tharn .
—--
The nurse's office was quiet.
Tharn had explained that Natherine wasn't feeling well—nothing specific, just cramps and fatigue—and the nurse had nodded knowingly, gesturing to a cot in the corner. Natherine lay down, curling on his side, the heat pad pressed against his stomach. Tharn pulled a chair beside him.
"You don't have to stay," Natherine said.
"I know." Tharn sat down. "I'm staying anyway."
They were quiet for a while. The nurse know natherine Alex already prepared incase. She just gave him a tablet nathrine usually take when his cramps are worse. She told tharn it just pain reliever. A clock ticked on the wall. Natherine's eyes grew heavy, the exhaustion pulling him under.
"Tharn?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you."
Tharn looked at him. His smile was soft, warm. "Anytime."
Natherine closed his eyes. The cramping was still there, but it was easier now—less sharp, more bearable. The heat pad warmed his stomach. He let himself drift.
---
Tharn went to take Nathrinie bag from locker and informed his teacher as Nat in nurse office. In his way back he pulled out his phone and typed a quick message to Neoul:
‘Natherine's sick. In the nurse's office. Can you inform phi kong he might have Nat guardian number?’
There was no reply. Tharn waited a moment, then slipped his phone back into his pocket and went back inside.
The nurse had left a glass of water on the side table. Tharn sat back down in the chair, watching Natherine sleep. The boy's face was pale, his lashes dark against his cheeks.
Tharn's phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen.
Neoul: ‘His guardian is already here. At the art building. Looking for him.’
Tharn blinked. He looked at Natherine stirred..
"What time—" his voice is hoarse and weak
"It's past three," Tharn said. "You slept for a few hours."
Natherine's heart lurched. Past three. Jay would be here. Alex might be waiting. He swung his legs over the side of the cot, his bare feet touching the cold floor, and tried to stand.
His legs gave out.
The room tilted. His knees buckled, and he felt himself falling—
But Tharn was there.
Tharn's hands caught him around the waist, steadying him, keeping him from hitting the floor. His grip was firm, careful, and he guided Natherine back to the cot, settling him onto the edge.
"Easy," Tharn said. "You're not ready to stand yet."
Natherine's breath came in short gasps. His heart was pounding, his stomach cramping, and he felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes—from frustration, from pain, from the helplessness of it all.
"I need to go," he said. "Jay is waiting. Daddy might be—"
"He is here." Neoul announced
Natherine's head snapped up.
Tharn stepped back, and there, in the doorway of the nurse's office, stood Alex.
He was still in his suit from the morning, his tie slightly loosened, his hair mussed as if he'd been running his hands through it. His face was tight, controlled, but there was something underneath it—something that looked like fear, like worry, like a man who had been searching and finally found what he was looking for.
"Mr. Kirigun—" the nurse began.
"How is he?" Alex's voice was low, measured, but his eyes never left Natherine.
"Resting," the nurse said. "The cramping was moderate, but he's stable now. I gave him some medicine and told him to rest. He just needs to sleep it off."
Alex nodded, already moving toward the cot in the corner. He didn't look at the nurse. Didn't look at Tharn. His eyes were only on Natherine.
"Daddy," Natherine whispered.
Alex knelt in front of him, bringing himself to eye level. His hand came up, almost automatically, to brush a strand of hair from Natherine's face. The gesture was old, familiar, worn smooth by years of repetition.
"How are you feeling?" Alex asked.
"Better. Now that you're here."
Something flickered in Alex's expression—something raw, unguarded, there and gone before Natherine could name it. His hand lingered on Natherine's face for a moment longer, then fell.
"The nurse said you can go home," Alex said. "Can you walk?"
Natherine tried to stand again. His legs held for a moment, then began to shake. He grabbed the edge of the cot to steady himself, but his grip was weak, his body exhausted.
Tharn moved to help, but Alex was faster.
"I've got you," Alex said quietly. "I've got you, baby."
Alex held him and set him back as he took the Nathrinie bag in bed side sliding to his shoulder.
Natherine looked up. Tharn was standing near the bed, neoul beside him.
"Thank you," Natherine said to Tharn. "For staying. For—" His voice cracked. "For everything."
Tharn shook his head. "You don't have to thank me."
Neoul's stepping forward "Feel better, okay? School's boring without you."
Nat nodded smiling.
Alex shifted, holding Nathrinie hand " Can you try standing holding me?"
Natherine shook his head. His legs were still shaking, his body still weak.
Alex didn't hesitate. He bent, one arm sliding under Natherine's knees, the other around his back, and lifted him off the ground. Natherine's arms wrapped around Alex's neck, his head falling against Alex's shoulder, and he let himself be carried.
Tharn stepped aside to let them pass. His eyes followed them, something unreadable in his expression. Neoul stood beside him, watching.
"Thank you," Alex said, pausing at the door. He looked at Tharn. "For taking care of him."
Tharn met his gaze. "Always."
Alex carried Natherine out of the nurse's office, down the hallway, toward the front gates where the car was waiting. Natherine kept his face buried in Alex's neck, his fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt.
"I'm sorry," Natherine whispered.
"For what?"
"For making you come all the way here. For leaving your meeting. For—" His voice cracked. "For being like this."
Alex's arms tightened around him. "Don't. Don't ever apologize for being in pain. Not to me."
"Daddy?"
"Yes."
"I'm glad you came."
Alex's hand pressed against Natherine's back, holding him closer.
"I'll always come," Alex said quietly. "Always.
To be continued..
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4k words
Ps. Another update without proofread adjust nah i will fix it later.
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