Nevan’s heart slammed against his ribs like it wanted to escape. Every step he took toward the courtyard fountain was measured, careful, but his eyes were drawn, irresistibly, to the two shadows lurking near the edge—Airn and Alastor.

Theo, laughing lightly, bent down to pick up a fallen pen, oblivious to the predators only a few feet away.

Then Airn moved.

A hand brushed lightly across Theo’s shoulder—not enough to hurt, not enough to alarm the others, but precise. Calculated. Teasing.

Nevan froze, green eyes widening. His chest constricted, and the world narrowed to the single movement, the faint contact, the sense that Theo—his Theo—was within their grasp.

“Don’t,” he hissed under his breath, voice tight, barely audible.

Alastor’s smirk was sharp, predator-like. “Careful, little songbird,” he murmured, voice low. “Every reaction matters. And oh… look at him.”

Nevan felt the coil in his stomach tighten, every muscle instinctively ready to defend, to lash out, but he couldn’t. Not here. Not in front of the students milling about.

His hands clenched at his sides. Theo looked up at him, confused by the tension, and Nevan’s stomach twisted. Please… please don’t get him hurt.

Airn’s hand slid just a fraction closer, grazing the back of Theo’s neck, and something in Nevan snapped.

“Stop,” he whispered, voice tight with control he was barely maintaining. His knees threatened to buckle, his fingers itched to reach out, to do anything to pull Theo out of reach.

Alastor’s eyes glinted with approval. “Yes… that’s it. Feel it. Protect him. That’s your weakness. That’s your edge.”

Nevan’s green eyes darted between Theo and the twins. Every nerve was alive, every instinct screaming, and yet… the calm mask he always wore was cracking.

“I… I’ll do anything,” he whispered under his breath, not aloud, yet the words were heavy with desperation. Please… just leave him alone.

Airn caught it, that small, unguarded plea, and his smirk widened. The thrill, sharp and dark, raced through him. This—this was better than he expected. To see the songbird bend under the weight of fear for someone else, to feel the first flicker of complete vulnerability—it was intoxicating.

Alastor stepped closer to his brother, voice low, teasing. “Do you see it? He’s breaking, brother. And he doesn’t even know we’ve barely touched him.”

Airn’s eyes glinted, fixed on Nevan’s subtle tremble. “So delicate… so perfect.” He glanced at Theo, who remained blissfully unaware of the danger, and felt a shiver of dark excitement. The little push, just enough to make Nevan falter, had worked.

Nevan’s chest heaved, breaths short, shallow. His hands shook. For the first time, he felt the raw, desperate need to protect someone else—so pure, so intense—that it overrode every shred of pride.

“Please…” His lips barely parted, the whisper lodged in his chest, urgent and real. Not for himself. Not aloud. But for Theo. For the boy he cared for more than he could admit.

Airn leaned closer, savoring the soundless plea, the quiet desperation in the green eyes locked on him. “Good boy,” he murmured, low and deliberate. “See? That’s all it takes.”

Alastor’s smirk widened, approving. “And now we know where the line is. The rest… is just waiting.”

Nevan’s chest heaved again, mind spinning, body tense. He hadn’t begged aloud, but inside, he had surrendered a piece of himself, a crack in the calm mask he had spent years perfecting.

And the twins, standing together, watching, smirking, felt the intoxicating thrill of control—the first true proof that the songbird was theirs to test, their obsession growing sharper with every flicker of vulnerability.

Theo laughed lightly, turning to pick up another pen, unaware of the storm that had just passed over the green-eyed boy beside him.

Nevan’s chest ached with the weight of it. And though the twins hadn’t touched him, hadn’t forced him down, hadn’t spoken the word aloud—he knew. He knew what they could do. He knew how far the cage could close.

And for the first time, he feared it.

Nevan’s hands trembled slightly as he clutched his bag, walking beside Theo. His chest felt tight, as if something inside him had been squeezed and left raw. He could still feel it—the phantom weight of Airn’s hand, the teasing pressure of Alastor’s gaze.

Theo chattered on, oblivious, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. Nevan forced a small, hollow smile, nodding at random points, trying to appear calm. But inside, his mind was spinning, a storm of tension, fear, and unbidden longing.

Why do they have this power over me?

Every instinct he had screamed to protect Theo, to drag him out of reach, to push the twins away by force if needed. But he couldn’t—not in public, not here. He had no way to act without exposing them both, and every second of hesitation made the coil in his chest tighten even more.

Please… please leave him alone.

The words weren’t spoken aloud, but they echoed in his mind like a chant, desperate, pleading. He hated how much the thought trembled on the edge of a whisper, hated how his chest ached with the weight of helplessness.

Airn’s smirk appeared in the corner of his vision as he caught a glance from across the courtyard. Alastor’s eyes glinted just behind him, calm and calculating. Nevan’s stomach dropped—he knew they were watching, measuring, waiting. And he also knew that the slightest twitch, the smallest falter, would feed their obsession.

Theo glanced at him, brow furrowed. “Are you… okay? You look tense.”

Nevan forced another smile, tighter this time, and shook his head. “I’m fine. Just… thinking about class.”

Theo didn’t press further, but the soft warmth in his gaze, the innocent concern—it pulled at Nevan’s chest, squeezing it. The twins had found the exact point to exploit. Theo’s safety, Theo’s happiness, was the lever. And Nevan felt it like a rope tightening around his ribs.

I can’t let them touch him. I won’t let them.

Airn and Alastor moved slightly closer, subtle enough that no one else noticed, deliberate in their pacing. Each step, each glance, was designed to push Nevan further into that internal spiral—testing his patience, his control, his limits.

Airn imagined the green eyes flicking to him again, the way Nevan’s calm composure cracked ever so slightly. That flicker—the moment of silent, internal begging—was intoxicating. He leaned back slightly against the wall, voice low, teasing, though only Alastor could hear. “He’s already folding in his mind. Look at him, brother. He can’t ignore us.”

Alastor’s smirk deepened. “And the moment he truly realizes what we could do… oh, that’s when the real game begins.”

Nevan’s stomach rolled with panic, every nerve alert. He could feel it—the pull between fear and control, the desperate urge to keep Theo safe. And without realizing it, he whispered under his breath again, almost inaudibly, Please… don’t hurt him.

Airn caught it, though he pretended not to, savoring it, feeling the thrill surge through him. That small, internal plea was more potent than any outward display of fear, more powerful than any reaction he could force. The songbird was responding exactly as he’d hoped.

Nevan’s chest heaved as they finally stepped away, blending back into the crowd of students. He leaned slightly toward Theo, forcing his hands to unclench, trying to steady his breath. But inside, the tremor didn’t stop. The ache didn’t fade.

He knew, with a sinking certainty, that this was only the beginning. The twins had discovered a weakness—a way to make him beg, to expose the cracks in his calm.

And the cage around him, around the boy he cared for more than he could admit, was already closing.

The hallways were empty now, the buzz of students long gone. Nevan’s footsteps echoed softly as he tried to keep his pace steady, mind racing. But before he could turn a corner, a shadow fell over him.

Airn.

And then Alastor, sliding in from the side, closing the path behind him. The green-eyed boy’s chest tightened. He was trapped. Alone.

Airn leaned casually against the wall, smirk sharp and predatory. “You said you’d do anything, right?” His voice was low, smooth, dangerous.

Nevan’s throat went dry. He opened his mouth to answer, but words failed him. His pulse thundered in his ears. No. Not here. Please… not like this.

Alastor stepped closer, quiet, calculated, eyes never leaving Nevan. “Everything has a price, little songbird. And we… we know exactly what matters to you.”

Airn’s smirk widened. He took a slow step closer, gaze roaming over Nevan’s tense body, lingering on the subtle tremble of his hands. “Do you really mean that? Anything… for them?” His tone was sharp, teasing, almost intimate.

Nevan swallowed hard, chest tight. The words had been his own once, whispered in desperation, and now they hung in the air, twisted into a trap. Please… don’t make me do this.

“You know what I mean,” Alastor said, voice low, dangerous. “We saw you earlier. Your… concern. Your attachment.”

Airn’s hand itched to reach out, but he didn’t. Not yet. Watching was far more thrilling. Watching Nevan falter, watching him tremble with the weight of his own desire to protect—that was intoxicating.

Nevan’s lips parted, voice barely a whisper. “I… I’ll do it. Anything… just… please…” His gaze darted to the twins, wide, vulnerable, a mixture of fear and desperation blazing in his green eyes.

Airn’s smirk sharpened, teeth catching the light. “Good. That’s exactly what we wanted to hear.” He leaned closer, voice dropping to a near purr. “But we’ll see… how far you’ll really go.”

Alastor’s eyes glinted, approving. “And when you finally beg… really beg… we’ll know how… truly obedient you can be.”

Nevan’s chest heaved. He hadn’t fully surrendered yet, not aloud, not entirely. But inside, the cage tightened. The green eyes, once calm and detached, were now alight with raw, desperate emotion—his attachment to Theo, his fear, his longing—all laid bare.

Airn took a step back, smirk never leaving his face, savoring the crack in Nevan’s composure. “The fun’s just begun, little songbird.”

Alastor moved to the side, silent and calculating. “And don’t think this ends here. We know your limits now… and we’re going to explore every one of them.”

Nevan swallowed, chest tight, voice shaking. “P-please… just… not him.”

Airn’s smirk curved darker, predatory. “Not him?” he repeated softly, almost mockingly. “Oh… we wouldn’t dream of touching him. Not yet. But… maybe if we made you beg?”

Nevan’s heart raced, stomach twisting. He realized, with a sinking certainty, that he was completely exposed—every instinct, every fear, every attachment laid bare to these boys who were now playing a game he didn’t fully understand.

The hallway seemed to shrink around him, the walls closing in. And for the first time, the green-eyed boy understood the full weight of what he’d promised.

Airn and Alastor smirked, watching him struggle, savoring every flicker of panic, every breathless second.

And Nevan… he knew, without a doubt, that this was only the beginning.

Nevan’s breath came shallow, uneven. His hands trembled at his sides, fingers curling into his sleeves as if he could disappear inside himself.

Airn watched him closely now. The smirk was still there—but sharper. Focused.

“Well?” Airn asked softly. “You said you’d do anything.”

Alastor remained quiet, leaning against the wall, arms crossed. He was watching Nevan the way one studied a fragile thing—curious to see exactly when it would break.

Nevan’s chest burned.

Theo’s face flashed in his mind. The easy smile. The way he’d spoken to Nevan like he mattered. Like he was normal.

“Please,” Nevan said.

The word slipped out raw. Bare. Uncontrolled.

Airn’s eyes widened—just a fraction.

“Oh?” he murmured. “That’s new.”

Nevan’s knees threatened to give out. He forced himself forward, every step heavy, humiliating. His gaze dropped to the floor, his voice shaking violently now.

“I—please,” he repeated. “I’ll do what you want. I won’t fight. I won’t run. Just—just don’t touch him.”

Airn stepped closer.

“So you do know how to beg,” he said, almost impressed.

Airn lifted a hand, fingers brushing Nevan’s jaw—not gripping yet. Testing.

Nevan flinched, then—before he could stop himself—he reached up.

He took Airn’s wrist.

Both twins froze.

Slowly, deliberately, Nevan pressed Airn’s hand against his own throat. Not hard. Not inviting. Just enough to say: this is where it hurts. This is where I’m vulnerable.

His voice broke completely.

“Please,” he whispered. “If you’re going to hurt someone… make it me.”

The hallway went deathly still.

Airn’s breath hitched.

For a split second, the hunger in his eyes turned feral—something wild and dangerous flashing across his face. His fingers twitched against Nevan’s neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath the skin.

He didn’t tighten his grip.

But he didn’t pull away either.

Alastor’s smirk deepened slowly, dark satisfaction settling into his expression.

“Look at that,” he said quietly. “He’s offering himself.”

Nevan’s eyes burned. Tears gathered, but he didn’t let them fall. He stayed still. Submissive. Exposed.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’ll be better. I’ll listen. I won’t look at anyone else. Just—please.”

Airn swallowed hard.

This was it.

This was the moment Nevan gave something.

Airn leaned down until his mouth was close to Nevan’s ear.

“You should never have said that,” he murmured. “Do you know what you just taught us?”

Nevan shook his head faintly.

“That you’ll break yourself,” Airn continued softly, “before you let anyone else get hurt.”

Airn finally pulled his hand away—but the loss of pressure made Nevan stagger, like something essential had been taken from him.

Alastor stepped forward now.

“You’re ours,” he said calmly. “Not because we touched you. Not because we forced you.”

He tilted Nevan’s chin up with one finger.

“But because you chose this.”

Nevan’s knees buckled.

Airn caught him—not gently, not cruelly. Just enough to keep him standing.

“That,” Airn said, voice low and satisfied, “was your first real beg.”

Then he stepped back.

“Go home, songbird.”

Alastor smiled thinly.

“Tomorrow,” he added, “you’ll learn what comes after.”

Nevan didn’t look back as he fled down the hallway.

But he could still feel Airn’s hand on his throat.

And worse—

he knew they’d felt how easily he’d yielded.