Dominik hadn't blinked in twenty-three minutes.
Perched behind the one-way tinted glass of the villa's upper balcony—equipped with high-end binoculars, a hydration backpack filled with iced espresso, and a rapidly deteriorating grip on reality—he watched them.
Leo and Nox.
The Domestic Phantom Duo.
Day three of observing the most emotionally constipated, routine-heavy duo to ever redefine "we're not dating but we definitely brush our teeth side by side." And today was worse. So much worse.
Because today… Nox's face was out. All day.
No hoodie. No mask. Just bare, porcelain skin, violet-glinting eyes, three crimson ear studs flashing when the light hit, and that infernal red heart-shaped belly piercing twinkling every time Leo passed behind him.
Dominik whimpered into his coffee straw. "I wasn't ready. I'm not spiritually calibrated for this."
7:00 AM: Rooftop Training
Leo was executing precise side kicks while Nox stood in a tank top and loose pants, correcting his stance with two fingers on the thigh. Leo didn't flinch.
"Better," Nox said simply, flicking ash off his cigarette. "You're planting too early on the turn, though."
Leo adjusted, eyes narrowing in concentration. "Like this?"
Dominik, watching from above, threw a hand dramatically over his chest. "THEY'RE BREATHING IN SYNC."
8:00 AM: Breakfast
They sat side by side at the kitchen counter. Leo was making toast while Nox sipped espresso and read an encrypted report on a hacked tablet.
Leo mumbled, "No cucumbers, right?" and casually shifted his salad onto Nox's plate.
Nox, without looking up: "Trade you the olives."
Dominik, in the rafters with a camera zoomed to max: "THEY'RE INTUITIVELY PLATE-SWAPPING LIKE A MARRIED COUPLE FROM A STUDIO GHIBLI FILM!"
12:30 PM: TV Break
Nox was cleaning one of his five new sniper rifles. Leo was flicking the heart-shaped navel piercing with the edge of a cotton swab while sitting on the floor beside him.
"Which was your favorite last night?" Leo asked lazily, twisting the Q-tip between his fingers.
"Cleo's monologue in the third act," Nox said without looking up. "You cried."
Leo scoffed. "One tear. It doesn't count. The lighting was emotional."
Nox's lip quirked. "You said, and I quote, 'This is literally us.'"
Dominik SCREAMED into his hoodie sleeve.
"IT IS LITERALLY YOU. IT'S YOU. IT'S. YOUUUUUU!"
2:00 PM: Poolside Torture (for Dominik)
Leo was floating, sunglasses on, a juice box in hand. Nox sat at the pool's edge again, legs in the water, watching the clouds.
"I hacked the cafe's security cams," Nox said. "That guy you thought was staring at me was just blind in one eye."
Leo laughed, "That explains the head tilt. For a second I thought you were being courted."
"I'm not his type."
Leo raised a brow. "Oh? And what's his type?"
Nox calmly took a sip of water. "Not alive."
Dominik almost fell off the balcony.
4:00 PM: Weapon Maintenance
Nox was stretched out on the rug, lovingly cleaning and assembling his five new sniper rifles:
Black Mamba Mk-V — matte black finish, carbon fiber body, high recoil absorption.
Thornspike 9 — sleek and compact, custom grip shaped like a coiled serpent.
Crimson Widow LX — Nox's personal favorite; red-trimmed scope, silent silencer.
Deadeye Eclipse — all silver, fitted with night-camo and reflective jamming tech.
Ghost Fang Precision — lightest of the five, known for rapid lock-on.
Meanwhile, Leo was organizing Nox's upgraded medical kit, labeling new bandages and injecting minor healing serums into compartments.
"Why do we have six types of surgical glue?" Leo asked, amused.
"In case we need to fake a death with flair."
Dominik scribbled in his notebook: They have a shared death-faking plan. This is not platonic. This is mafia marriage.
6:00 PM: Dinner
Grilled meat, pasta, and lemon water.
Nox ate slowly, skin still glistening from the pool. Leo chewed on his straw. He leaned in too close to say something and Nox didn't even blink.
Dominik watched Leo pull Nox's hair back to check on a healing scar under his ear. They didn't speak. They didn't have to.
Dominik's eye twitched.
"I'm watching the mafia's emotionally stunted Romeo & Juliet reenact true love while sharpening knives. This is psychological warfare."
8:00 PM: Movie Night, Round Two
Leo threw a blanket over both their legs without comment. Nox didn't remove it.
The lights dimmed.
The TV glowed.
Leo laughed first. "Okay, but last night's was better."
Nox smirked. "You only liked it because the main character reminded you of yourself."
"I stand by it. Tragic, sexy, misunderstood, morally flexible—"
Dominik shrieked into a pillow. "HE DESCRIBED NOX. YOU'RE DESCRIBING EACH OTHER, YOU IDIOTS."
Midnight: Observational Breakdown
Dominik was still watching. Eyes red. Notebooks full.
They had fallen asleep.
Leo was half-curled against Nox's shoulder.
Nox's hand rested lightly on Leo's wrist, thumb grazing the skin.
Dominik whispered to himself like a man praying:
"This is fine. This is totally fine. I'm not witnessing a slow-burn mafia soulmate AU in real-time. I'm not emotionally compromised. I'm just… I need wine. And possibly a priest."
He paused.
"…Or a therapist trained in silent intimacy trauma. Because I think I imprinted on them."
End of Day 3 Log
Dominik titled the page: 'When You're the Only One Who Knows They're Basically Married.
End of Chapter 61