Kevin woke to the smell of something… burnt.
He blinked into the soft golden morning light, sitting up groggily. The luxury suite looked peaceful — until he noticed Leonhart hunched over the mini kitchenette, frowning at a very expensive coffee machine.
"Please tell me that's not on fire," Kevin croaked.
Leonhart glanced back, expression tense. "The machine isn't intuitive."
"You mean you broke it."
"I overestimated its intelligence," Leonhart corrected with a sniff, pushing a small porcelain cup toward Kevin. "Here."
Kevin took one cautious sip, and immediately grimaced.
"This tastes like anger."
Leonhart crossed his arms, visibly insulted. "It's espresso."
"No. It's a threat to humanity in liquid form."
Leonhart sighed. "I'll order room service."
Kevin chuckled, grabbing a banana from the welcome basket instead. "It's fine. I'm used to suffering. Besides, you made me coffee. That's… kinda weirdly sweet."
Leonhart looked genuinely surprised. "Is it?"
Kevin took another sip — purely out of pity — and said around a mouthful of banana, "Yeah. Didn't think you even knew how to make someone coffee."
"I don't," Leonhart muttered. "I googled it."
That made Kevin laugh, full and bright. "Oh my god, you googled it? I wish I had a photo."
Leonhart gave him a long-suffering look. "Remind me never to try again."
"No, no, this is perfect. I'll keep it forever in my memory as the day the mighty Leonhart Grimald tried to be a decent human being before 9 a.m."
Leonhart rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth twitched.
As they got ready for the day — Kevin in his simple white shirt and slacks, Leonhart in his silk and steel — the atmosphere between them shifted.
Lighter. Looser.
Leonhart walked Kevin to the event venue, keeping a step behind him like a silent bodyguard. His eyes never left Kevin's back, especially when others turned to stare — and they did stare.
People whispered. Some recognized Leonhart. Others didn't, but they saw the way he looked at Kevin: like Kevin was something priceless that no one else was allowed to touch.
Kevin finally turned, irritated. "Can you not glare at every person who talks to me?"
"They were looking at you like they had the right."
"That's how networking works."
Leonhart just gave him a dark look.
Kevin sighed and leaned in, whispering, "You're impossible."
Leonhart leaned even closer. "And you're too trusting."
Kevin shook his head, a faint smile curving his lips.
They walked the last few steps side by side.
And when someone asked, "Is that your boyfriend?" — Kevin laughed.
Leonhart didn't.
He looked at Kevin, very seriously.
"No," he said. "But I'd like to be."
Kevin's smile froze.
But he didn't say no.
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