Gemini and Fourth One shots

Fourth was the kind of guy who found beauty in chaos. A free spirit who floated through life without strings tying him down. Gemini, on the other hand, was the kind of man who had never once planned to fall for anyone. That’s what made their arrangement perfect.

"So no feelings, right?" Fourth had said that night, fingers lazily trailing down Gemini’s bare chest, eyes glowing with mischief.

"No feelings," Gemini agreed, smirking. "Just fun."

Friends with benefits. Simple, clear. No emotional stakes. They saw each other, slept together, shared drinks, laughter, touches that lingered longer than they should have—but still, no strings. Or so they thought.

It started innocently. Gemini brought Fourth his favorite snacks. Remembered the brand of gum he chewed. Booked tables at the restaurants Fourth casually mentioned.

"You really listen," Fourth said, half-laughing, peeling open the bag of strawberry chips Gemini had bought without being asked.

"You talk a lot. Hard not to hear," Gemini teased. But he smiled to himself when Fourth wasn't looking.

Gemini told himself it was just convenience. Fourth was easy to be around, easy to want. And yes, he kept photos of him on his phone. And yes, he once canceled a date just to spend the evening watching Fourth sleep on his couch. But that didn’t mean anything.

Right?

Then Fourth went out with someone else. Not a date, just a movie night with a college friend. But when Gemini saw the photo of Fourth grinning beside the guy, something snapped.

He didn’t text Fourth for two days.

Fourth showed up at his apartment, confused. "You mad or something?"

"Why would I be? We're not exclusive."

But his tone was sharp. His eyes dark.

Gemini started marking Fourth more. Leaving love bites on his neck, his collarbone, deep enough that Fourth winced when he touched them.

Fourth rolled his eyes. "You trying to tattoo your name on me or what?"

Gemini said nothing. But the thought didn’t seem so bad.

He began showing up at Fourth’s classes. Waiting outside just to walk him home. He didn’t ask if Fourth wanted company—he assumed it.

Fourth laughed it off, at first. "You’re kinda acting like a boyfriend."

"Would that be so bad?" Gemini asked.

Fourth froze. "We had a deal."

"Maybe I want to change it."

Fourth tried pulling back. Less calls. Less nights together. But Gemini wasn’t letting go. He filled every space Fourth tried to clear. Texts at midnight. Surprise gifts. Long stares that felt more like warnings.

One night, Gemini kissed him hard—desperate, trembling.

"Don’t leave me."

"I’m not yours, Gemini."

"You were never anyone else’s."

Fourth’s freedom began to suffocate him. Not because he wanted to run—but because every time he tried, Gemini pulled him back in with touches that burned, with affection that was all-consuming.

He didn’t say no. He didn’t want to.

But he also didn’t understand what he was becoming.

It wasn’t until Gemini broke down—on the floor of Fourth’s apartment, whispering apologies and vows like a prayer—that Fourth finally saw it.

"I don’t know how to do this," Gemini said. "But I can’t lose you. I won’t."

Fourth reached for him, unsure if it was love or surrender. "Then don’t."

They weren’t friends with benefits anymore. They weren’t really a couple, either. What they had was something darker, deeper—something neither could name.

Fourth still walked freely. But his world now revolved around Gemini. Gemini, who memorized his schedules. Who tied his shoelaces when Fourth was too tired. Who carved space for Fourth in every part of his life.

Gemini, whose love was terrifying in how much it consumed.

Fourth looked at himself in the mirror one morning and barely recognized the man looking back.

But when he turned around, Gemini was there—smiling, gentle, real.

And Fourth, heart pounding, whispered: "I'm yours."