The phone screen went dark at once, leaving the room in its earlier cool quiet. Stuart tossed the locked phone carelessly onto the gray blanket beside Alexei's hip.

Alexei had been sitting still the whole time, almost afraid to breathe, but when the screen went dark, he slowly moved his eyes from the phone to Stuart. Alexei's fingers tightened on the gray wool. The phrase "it's my call" had struck at something private in him. He was used to managing on his own, not being a burden to anyone, and now, because of his own late break, a family storm was brewing over the Kingsley heir.

"Stuart..." Alexei said quietly, his voice unusually rough, fingers pulling nervously at the collar of his hoodie. "You're going to have problems because of me. You shouldn't have stayed. I would've managed."

Stuart didn't answer this burst of independence. He just glanced over at Alexei, and that same careful, protective softness crossed his gray-blue gaze again. He could see clearly enough that behind this polished wall of words lay plain fear and confusion. Instead of arguing, he simply moved closer to the edge of the bed and took Alexei's thin, trembling fingers into his large palm, careful but firm.

Alexei let out a shaky breath, feeling his wildly racing pulse fall obediently into step with Stuart's slow, deep breathing. The creamy gardenia scent stopped pulsing with fear, twining smooth and clean with the dry cedar again. Alexei closed his eyes without a sound, sinking into a safe, calm half-sleep under that heavy, wooden veil of scent.

Time slipped by unnoticed in the quiet suburb. Almost exactly an hour later, a dull, barely audible car door thudded shut somewhere down by the side entrance. The Kingsley estate's security team and manager had moved with flawless corporate precision.

Mikhail met the courier at the gate himself. A couple of minutes later, a travel case in expensive black leather, the holding company's logo stamped on it, sat on the minimalist kitchen counter downstairs.

A quiet knock sounded at the bedroom door again, breaking the deep, safe stillness that had settled over the room. Elena stepped quietly across the threshold, carrying Stuart's small suitcase, and slipped back out without a sound, closing the door behind her.

Stuart went over to the suitcase left by the door and clicked the locks open. First he pulled out a small glossy box with a brand logo and held it out to Alexei.

"Chef sent it over," Stuart said, quiet, his voice even in the silence of the room. "Been eyeing them all morning. You need carbs right now."

Alexei took the cool box carefully, feeling that same delicate embarrassment creep back up his throat. He lifted the lid: the dessert looked flawless, four fairly substantial mochi with a faint mango scent, each one yellow in its own compartment.

Stuart, meanwhile, pulled his own things out of the case and started changing into loungewear, unhurried, with none of the usual teenage self-consciousness. Alexei, frozen on the bed with the box in his hands, watched him out of the corner of his eye. Without the uniform blazer and shirt, the physical presence of the eighteen-year-old alpha was undeniable. Thick, developed back muscles, the strong lines of his shoulders and torso, Stuart looked like some finished, brutal work of art, without a trace of teenage gawkiness left in him.

Once he'd changed into loose dark pants and a t-shirt, Stuart turned back to the suitcase. He pulled out a heavy metal first-aid kit, opened it, and took out a ready-loaded syringe with the rut stabilizer. Stuart paused for a second, looking at the needle, then, with barely a flinch, injected himself in the stomach with the ease of long habit.

Alexei's brown eyes opened wide in fear, watching this cold, clinical procedure. Only now did it fully sink in what this boy was paying to stay in this room and keep control of his own body.

Stuart let out a long, ragged breath. Half a minute later the medicine kicked in. The dangerous, hot throb at his temples began to ease, the veins in his forearms relaxing a little. Tucking the syringe back into the kit, Kingsley settled back onto his spot on the floor by the bed, visibly relieved. He crossed his long legs on the carpet again and reached up, sure of himself, silently asking for Alexei's hand back to keep the biological connection going.

Alexei looked slowly down at the dessert. The little mochi blurred in front of him as fresh tears of embarrassment rose. He set the box down on the blanket, his long fingers trembling faintly. Fighting his own resistance, he reached down anyway and put his hand back into the boy's large, warm one, gripping it hard, like his only anchor.

"Stuart, I'm really ashamed, honestly," Alexei said, his voice cracking with guilt, his nose buried in the high collar of his black hoodie. "First all this humiliation at school... it'd be one thing if it was just me, but why you? Over some stupid," he gestured vaguely toward the first-aid kit where the syringe lay, "all of this. That makes it even more shameful."

Stuart caught his wrist, pulling Alexei's hand back into his own and locking it there, solid. That firm contact gave Alexei something to hold onto. Stuart looked up at him, calm, his gray-blue eyes perfectly clear and steady in the dim room.

Stuart only gave a short, easy smile at the confession, burning off whatever awkwardness was left in the room for good. Instead of any long explanation, he reached into the box with his free hand, picked up one of the plump yellow mochi, and held it right up to Alexei's lips.

Alexei took the treat obediently, feeling the cool sweetness of mascarpone and ripe mango cut through the taste of stress at once. Coming back to himself a little, he took a small bite of half of it and held out the rest to Stuart, trying without words to share the dessert as a thank-you. But just as Stuart opened his mouth to answer, a loud, drawn-out, demanding growl broke the silence of the graphite room.

Both of them went still. In the car, in the medical wing, out in the cold, Stuart had seemed unshakable, a stone monolith, fully in control of everything around him. And only now did Alexei realize, with horror, that between the morning workout and then the hormonal chaos at the Academy, this huge, broad-shouldered boy hadn't properly eaten all day, burning through enormous energy just to hold his rut in check.