Yiannis felt it the moment his grip tightened, the moment something shifted from simple closeness into something he didn’t know how to handle. It hit him all at once, sharp and unfamiliar, and he pulled back like he had crossed a line he didn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” he said, the words coming out uneven. “I didn’t mean to. I just—” He stopped, breath catching, his hands unsteady now. “It’s my first time. I didn’t know—”

His voice trailed off, and the fear in it was clearer than anything else.

Charles didn’t step away.

Instead, he reached forward and held him, the motion simple and without hesitation. It wasn’t something he thought through. It just felt like the right response to what he was seeing.

“It’s fine,” Charles said, quieter than usual. “I didn’t mean to either.”

He paused, searching for the right way to say it, then added, “I think I felt it too.”

Yiannis stilled at that.

Charles didn’t fully understand what had just happened, only that it was new. Different from anything he had experienced before, even before this place. It wasn’t unpleasant. It wasn’t something he could easily dismiss either.

They stayed like that for a moment longer than needed, the water moving gently around them, the earlier tension settling into something softer, though not entirely gone.

On the shore, Willahelm watched from a distance. From where he stood, it only looked like an embrace, something easily explained, something he didn’t question out loud.

Eventually, they stepped back.

Neither of them said much as they made their way out of the water. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, but it carried something that hadn’t been there before.

They returned to the shore and began to change.

Yiannis kept his focus down, hands moving without much thought, until he glanced up at the wrong moment. Charles had bent slightly, adjusting his clothes, unaware of being watched.

Yiannis looked away almost immediately, sitting down without a word.

After a second, he spoke, voice lower now. “You should head back first.”

Charles glanced at him. “What about you.”

“I’ll follow,” Yiannis said. “Just… go ahead.”

Willahelm looked between them briefly, then nodded once. “We’ll go,” he said, falling into step beside Charles without question.

Charles didn’t argue. He still felt the echo of what had happened, not heavy, but present enough to linger. “Alright,” he said.

They left him there.

Yiannis stayed seated, staring out toward the water, though he wasn’t really seeing it. His thoughts moved faster now, not scattered, but focused in a way that felt almost too clear.

This couldn’t stay as it was.

He exhaled slowly, steadying himself.

By the time he stood, the decision had already settled.

He would speak to his parents. Not later, not after thinking it through again.

He needed to go to the mountains.

And this time, he wouldn’t go alone.

By the time Charles and Willahelm made their way back, the light had shifted into something softer, the kind that made everything look calmer than it really was. Still, people noticed them. Not openly, not in a way that would call attention, but enough. A glance held a second too long. A murmur that didn’t quite hide itself.

Charles picked up on it, even if he didn’t react.

Willahelm did too, though he kept his focus forward.

They didn’t speak much at first, but as the house came into view, Charles finally said, “They were looking.”

Willahelm glanced at him. “Yes.”

“For what reason.”

Willahelm hesitated. “I’m not certain.”

They entered through the garden, where Melia was still seated, as if she had been waiting without making it obvious. She looked up the moment they stepped in, her gaze moving over them once, then settling.

Something in her expression shifted, subtle but clear.

“You’re back early,” she said.

Charles nodded. “Yiannis stayed.”

Melia hummed softly, like that answered more than the words themselves. She gestured for them to come closer, her attention now more focused.

“You look troubled,” she added.

Charles didn’t deny it. “People were looking at us,” he said. “More than usual.”

Melia studied him for a second, then leaned back slightly, the faintest smile forming. “Were you in the water with Yiannis.”

Charles paused. “Yes.”

“And close,” she asked, not really asking.

He didn’t answer right away, but the silence was enough.

Melia’s smile deepened, not mocking, just knowing. “Then that would be it.”

Willahelm frowned slightly. “What do you mean.”

Melia looked between them, her tone easy. “Yiannis is young. Strong. His scent carries more than he realizes sometimes.” She tilted her head toward Charles. “It likely stayed on you.”

Charles blinked once, processing it.

“Pheromones,” Melia added, as if placing the word might help.

Understanding came slowly, but it came.

Charles felt the faint warmth rise again, not from before, but from the realization of it. “I see.”

He lowered his gaze slightly. “Then it was my fault.”

Melia waved it off immediately. “No. It happens. Especially at his age.” She smiled again, softer now. “Nothing to worry about.”

Charles nodded, though the thought stayed with him.

Melia shifted the moment away with ease. “You should rest. Or eat, if you’re hungry.”

“Rest,” Charles said.

Willahelm agreed quietly.

Melia didn’t press further. She watched them go inside, her expression settling into something thoughtful once they were out of sight.

A moment later, she stood and walked toward the entrance, where Stavros had just stepped out. She didn’t need to explain much. He read it in her face, in the direction of her glance.

So they waited.

It didn’t take long.

Yiannis approached at a slower pace than usual, his steps measured, his thoughts clearly elsewhere. The moment he saw them both standing there, he knew.

Stavros crossed his arms lightly. “Alright,” he said. “Come clean, son.”

Yiannis stopped a few steps away, exhaling once like he was letting something go.

Then he did.

Yiannis stopped a few steps short of them, like he needed the space just to get the words out right. He looked from his father to his mother, then down at the ground for a second before lifting his head again.

“I need to go to the mountains,” he said.

Stavros didn’t react immediately. He just watched him, waiting to see what would come after.

“With him,” Yiannis added.

Melia’s expression didn’t change much, but her eyes softened in a way that said she had already expected this.

Stavros let out a slow breath. “You’ve made up your mind, then.”

Yiannis nodded. “I have.”

There was no hesitation in it now. Whatever doubt he had earlier had settled into something firmer. It showed in the way he stood, in the way he didn’t look away this time.

“I know how it sounds,” he went on. “And I know what you’re going to say about time and patience and all that, but I can’t just wait. Not like this.”

Stavros tilted his head slightly. “Not like what.”

Yiannis struggled for a second, then gave up trying to make it sound neat. “I know it’s him,” he said. “I don’t need anything else to tell me that.”

The words hung there, simple and unpolished.

Melia glanced at Stavros, then back at Yiannis. “Then why go,” she asked quietly.

Yiannis swallowed. “Because knowing isn’t enough.”

That slowed them both.

“I can feel it,” he continued, more steady now. “But he doesn’t. He doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to feel. If I just say it, if I just… decide it on my own, it won’t mean anything to him. And it won’t mean anything to his family either.”

Stavros’s gaze sharpened slightly, not in disapproval, but in attention.

“I need to prove it,” Yiannis said. “Not just to you. To them. To him.” He hesitated, then added, “I want to ask for him properly. I can’t do that without something real to show.”

Melia’s expression shifted again, something quieter now, something closer to understanding than amusement.

“You’re thinking ahead,” she said.

“I have to,” Yiannis replied.

Stavros looked at him for a long moment, weighing not just the words, but the way they were said. There was no rush in him now, no uncertainty left to pick apart.

“You’re asking to take him with you,” Stavros said.

“Yes.”

“And if he refuses.”

Yiannis paused. Just for a second. “Then I won’t force him.”

That answer seemed to settle something.

Stavros nodded once, slow and deliberate. “Good.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It felt more like a line being drawn, something agreed on without needing to say it outright.

Melia stepped closer, her voice softer. “Does he know.”

Yiannis shook his head. “Not yet.”

She studied him, then reached out briefly, adjusting something that wasn’t really out of place. “Then you should tell him soon.”

He nodded.

Stavros uncrossed his arms, the tension in his posture easing. “We’ll make the arrangements,” he said. “You won’t go unprepared.”

Yiannis let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

“Thank you,” he said.

Stavros waved it off lightly. “Don’t thank me yet. You’ve still got the harder part.”

Yiannis knew what he meant.

Telling Charles wasn’t going to be simple.

He turned slightly, glancing toward the house where Charles had gone to rest. For the first time since making the decision, something like nerves returned, silent but present.

Still, he didn’t step back.

Yiannis woke earlier than he needed to and went straight to the kitchen without thinking twice about it. The house was still silent, the kind of silent that made small sounds carry further than they should. Willahelm was already there, as usual, preparing things with the same steady focus he always had. He looked up when Yiannis stepped in, surprise flickering across his face.

“You’re up early,” Willahelm said.

Yiannis nodded, already reaching for what he needed. “I’ll take breakfast to him.”

He tried to say more, something closer to Willahelm’s language, but it came out uneven. The words didn’t quite land the way he intended. Willahelm paused, piecing together what he could, then gave a small nod anyway.

“I understand,” he said, even if he didn’t fully.

Yiannis didn’t linger. He finished quickly, arranging the food with more care than he would have admitted, then carried it out before he could second guess himself.

When he reached Charles’s room, he didn’t knock right away. He stood there for a second, steadying his breath, then pushed the door open.

Charles was already awake.

He sat near the window, a piece of paper in front of him, his attention fixed on it in a way that made the rest of the room fade. The markings on the page were unfamiliar, not Greek, not anything Yiannis recognized. He watched for a moment, , trying to make sense of it, but the shapes meant nothing to him.

Charles looked up when he noticed him.

There was a brief pause, something like surprise crossing his face before it settled.

“I brought food,” Yiannis said, setting the tray down.

Charles glanced at it, then back at him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I know.”

The room held still for a second after that.

Yiannis didn’t step back this time. He stayed where he was, the words already there, pressing forward whether he was ready or not.

“I need to tell you something,” he said.

Charles watched him, attentive but calm. “Alright.”

Yiannis exhaled once, then said it plainly. “I like you.”

There was no attempt to soften it, no way to make it easier than it was.

Charles didn’t react immediately. He let the words settle, then shook his head slightly.

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

Yiannis’s expression didn’t change much, but he didn’t interrupt.

“I’m older,” Charles continued. “And what happened yesterday… that doesn’t mean anything like that. It was mutual. You don’t have to take responsibility for it.”

Yiannis had expected that answer.

He stepped closer instead of backing away, then lowered himself until he was kneeling in front of Charles. The movement wasn’t dramatic. It was deliberate.

“I’m not,” he said. “This isn’t about that.”

Charles’s gaze sharpened slightly, not in resistance, but in attention.

“The first time I saw you,” Yiannis went on, “you were in the water. You were barely conscious, holding onto that piece of wood like it was the only thing keeping you here.” He paused, then added, quieter, “I didn’t know what you were. Didn’t care either.”

Charles didn’t look away.

“I just knew,” Yiannis said.

The words came out simple, without weight added to them, which made them harder to dismiss.

“I don’t need anything else to tell me that,” he continued. “But I know you’re not the same. You need something more than just… me saying it.”

Charles stayed still, listening.

“So I want to go to the mountains,” Yiannis said. “There’s a place there. People go when they need to be sure.” He hesitated for a second, then finished, “I want you to come with me.”

He didn’t reach for him. He didn’t push further.

He just waited.

Charles studied him for a moment longer than usual. There was no rush in his expression, no immediate answer. Just consideration, steady and silent.

He could see it, the sincerity in Yiannis, the lack of hesitation, the way the words didn’t feel forced.

And yet, it didn’t reach him the same way.

Not fully.

He leaned back slightly, thinking through it in his own way. There was no urgency pushing him forward, no feeling he had to follow. But there was something else. A kind of curiosity. A willingness to see where it would lead, if only because there was nowhere else he needed to be right now.

“I don’t feel what you feel,” he said.

“I know,” Yiannis replied.

Charles held his gaze, then gave a small nod.

“Alright,” he said.

It wasn’t agreement in the way Yiannis might have hoped. It wasn’t rejection either.

“I’ll go with you,” Charles added.

Yiannis let out a breath, silent but visible.

Charles glanced at the paper on the table, then back at him. “But you should understand something.”

Yiannis waited.

“This doesn’t mean anything will change,” Charles said. “I’m still… what I am. And you’ll meet someone else eventually. Someone who fits better.”

Yiannis didn’t answer that.

He just shook his head slightly, like it wasn’t something worth arguing about right now.

Charles let it pass.

For him, it was simple. He wasn’t bound to anything here. Not yet. Whatever this was, it would end on its own when the right time came. That was how these things worked.

So there was no harm in following it a little further.

No harm in seeing what happened next.