Chapter 67

Cherriot was upstairs taking a shower.

As Yuri pictured him, the fingers at his chin drifted upward to his mouth. His thumb moved unconsciously across his lower lip, and the memory of that night at Big Fox returned: Cherriot’s mouth drawing at his lips, sucking them between his own. In truth, Yuri had remembered that night from the moment Cherriot leaned close enough that their lips nearly touched.

It was the first night Yuri had ever allowed a man to take him. Perhaps because he had slept with Cherriot almost immediately after realizing that he had fallen for an Alpha he barely knew, every part of the encounter had fused into one searing memory. Cherriot had driven into him without respite, and Yuri had climaxed more times than he could count. The physical pleasure had been undeniable, yet the emotional intensity had completely overwhelmed it.

That night, Yuri learned how good it could feel to join his body with someone he cared about, to tangle their tongues and share the same breath. Of everything he remembered from those long hours, what remained strongest was the sensation of his heart swelling until it almost hurt. Perhaps he had felt that way from the moment they fell into the lake. It feels as though I’ve gone back to that night.

A hitman had appeared in pursuit of Cherriot almost immediately afterward, leaving them no time to revisit what had happened. Their circumstances had grown too urgent for Yuri to linger over the most beautiful and overwhelming night of his life. After awakening from the coma, his mind had been too crowded with concern for Cherriot to hold anything else. Until this morning.

He was good at kissing.

Yuri had never particularly cared for kissing, so his own ability was ordinary at best. Cherriot, however, knew how to kiss with such sensual abandon that Yuri’s thoughts dissolved whenever their tongues met. He must have kissed plenty of people that way.

Yuri lowered his hand from his lips, his mouth tightening faintly. His mood had soured without warning. Cherriot had said that he had never entered a serious relationship because he feared attracting scandal. Unlike Yuri, who sought company only during rut, however, Cherriot seemed to have met partners with some regularity.

Had they called him Cherry, too? Had he blushed the way he had today whenever they did? Yuri pursued the unpleasant fantasy until he decided the answer was probably yes, then forced himself to stop. From the moment he realized he loved Cherriot, he had never particularly desired to become the most important person in his life.

Yuri did not love by striving to become someone’s one and only. He loved by wishing, sincerely, for the person he cherished to be happy. That remained true now. He wanted Cherriot to smile with genuine joy, as he had that morning. He wanted Cherriot to stop looking at him as though he had something to apologize for. That is all I want.

After reminding himself of that, Yuri picked up the pen again. While Cherriot prepared to go out, Yuri had been writing down the stray dog’s appearance. Cherriot’s promise to rescue it had apparently been sincere, because he had asked Yuri to record every detail he could remember.

Writing in a notebook felt strangely meaningful. It had been so long since Yuri had sat still with a pen in hand that even a few lines carried a profound sense of purpose. His life had not permitted him the luxury of sitting at a desk since elementary school. Now, doing something so ordinary made the change in his circumstances feel real.

Cherriot had given him the notebook several days earlier. After Yuri completed rehabilitation and found himself unable to do much at home except rest, Cherriot had asked what he wanted to do. Yuri had recently begun wanting to study grammar so that he could better understand the books Cherriot read aloud to him. Listening to stories delivered in that soft, low voice had taught Yuri that the world contained more beautiful words and sentences than he had ever imagined. He wanted to understand them more fully. It did not suit a man like him, perhaps, but he would be confined to the house for some time and unable to exert himself physically. Studying seemed more worthwhile than wasting the hours.

The instant Yuri mentioned grammar, Cherriot went directly to a bookstore and returned that same day with a grammar textbook and notebook. Yuri had already been grateful that Cherriot had chosen the books himself, but Cherriot had also presented him with a fountain pen. The black pen had a graceful gold nib and a comfortable weight in the hand. Even at a glance, it looked expensive. It had nothing in common with the cheapest objects Yuri had always purchased—things chosen only because they served their most basic purpose. Even if he became wealthy, it was the kind of luxury he would never have bought for himself.

At first, he refused it, believing that giving such a fine object to someone incapable of appreciating its value was a waste. Yet when Cherriot took the pen back and visibly wilted, Yuri found himself unable to persist. Cherriot had brightened immediately when Yuri accepted it again.

Yuri kept the fountain pen carefully stored in his suitcase. He might never use it, but it was the second gift he had received from Cherriot, after the book, and he intended to display it somewhere visible when he returned home. For that reason, the fountain pen remained in his room. When he studied, he used a cheap ballpoint pen purchased on the way back from rehabilitation. He had wanted to preserve the notebook as well, but Cherriot noticed Yuri studying and asked what had become of it, leaving Yuri with no choice but to use it. To make it last as long as possible, he packed every page densely with writing.

By the time Yuri finished recording everything he remembered about the dog, he heard Cherriot descending the stairs. The familiar sound of him skipping two steps at a time drew a faint smile from Yuri.

“Wolfie, I’m going out for a little while,” Cherriot called out, concern already saturating his voice. “I won’t be as late as I was yesterday. I’m really sorry, but it looks like you’ll have to eat lunch alone. Will you be all right?”

Yuri had been about to assure him that he would be perfectly fine when Cherriot entered the living room. Yuri froze.

A suit? He’s never dressed like that before, has he?

When visiting family or meeting with lawyers, Cherriot ordinarily wore a clean, polished outfit or something semi-formal. Yuri had never seen him in a suit this elegant. He was accustomed to Cherriot charging about like an unruly colt or following him around like an enormous puppy. The sight of the younger man dressed so impeccably sent an inexplicable tremor through Yuri’s stomach. I knew he was handsome, but not this handsome.

Perhaps it was the contrast between his reddish-gold hair and the black fabric. His hair looked brighter and more vividly red than usual, while the suit emphasized the breadth and hard angles of his shoulders. Long legs, enclosed in luxurious fabric, stretched beneath him in flawless proportion. Yet it was Cherriot’s beautiful face that brought every element together.

“Wolfie?”

When Yuri failed to answer, Cherriot called him again. Still receiving no response, he crossed the living room in several long strides. The sight of him approaching felt so unreal that Yuri might have been watching an apparition. He had the strange impression that Cherriot would vanish if he blinked.

“What’s wrong? Why aren’t you answering? Are you hurt?”

The beautiful vision did not disappear. Cherriot stopped directly before him. He must have applied a trace of cologne, because a faint woody fragrance mingled with his pheromones. It was not the harsh, almost aggressively fresh scent common in men’s fragrances, but something natural—closer to damp earth and timber.

A suit and cologne.

Was there someone he wanted to impress? Was he attending a party?

Useless questions crowded Yuri’s mind. He pressed his lips together and asked himself why he was so shaken. Cherriot’s beauty was hardly new. His appearance had made him famous for attracting one of the largest fan followings among professional athletes. Everyone already knew that Cherriot Goodnight was beautiful, talented, and exceptional. Yuri was merely realizing it all over again.

Perhaps the sight reminded him that Cherriot inhabited an entirely different world. No. Yuri had always known that. He had learned his place long ago. From their childhoods to their surroundings, nothing in their lives overlapped. Yuri reminded himself of that every morning so that he would never mistake prolonged proximity for belonging.

“Wolfie, when you keep going quiet, you make me nervous.”

Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar sight, Yuri had done nothing but stare. Cherriot approached with anxious eyes, then bent in front of the seated Yuri until they were eye-level, as though pleading to be looked at properly. Faced with those worried green eyes, Yuri knew he had to say something. You look beautiful. He wanted to tell him that, but the words would not leave his mouth. It was true that Cherriot looked beautiful, yet Yuri was not happy about it. Saying so felt almost dishonest. What he wanted far more was to ask a different question.

“The suit…” Who are you meeting that you needed to dress like this? The words hovered on his tongue. It was not a question Yuri needed to ask, nor one he had any right to inquire about. Even so, he desperately wanted to know for whom Cherriot had dressed so elegantly that he could have captivated everyone he encountered.

“Oh, this?” Cherriot glanced down at himself. “I have to meet my grandparents privately, so I didn’t have much choice. They’re absurdly particular about formality.”

Fortunately, Cherriot answered before Yuri could make a mistake. The instant Yuri heard that he was meeting his grandparents, the heaviness inside him dissolved. Confused by the violent swing in his mood, he met Cherriot’s eyes again as the younger man tilted his head, the answer becoming roughly apparent.

“What do you think? Does it suit me? Or do I look too serious?”

Part of Yuri was saddened by the realization that Cherriot’s beauty had never belonged to him alone. Yet it also made him happy that this extraordinary man, adored by countless people, would stoop and tilt his head merely to hear the opinion of someone like Yuri. Cherriot waited, blinking his lovely green eyes. When the silence continued, his long, dense reddish-gold lashes swept upward as his eyes widened in a wordless demand for an answer.

Yuri studied him, then smiled faintly. He had made Cherriot anxious over pointless thoughts. The doctors had said his brain had suffered no meaningful damage, yet since morning, he had been behaving like a man with a head injury. None of these feelings or thoughts could help Cherriot.

“It suits you.”

At last, Yuri said what he should have said from the beginning. The compliment that had lodged in his throat emerged clearly now.

“Really?” Cherriot’s eyes curved with satisfaction.

“Yes.”

“That’s too brief. Can’t you praise me a little more?” Cherriot pleaded like a child already clutching a fistful of candy and asking for another handful.

Charmed by the request, Yuri described the impression Cherriot had made when he first descended the stairs. “Even a butterfly passing by would fall for you.” Unsure whether the expression was clear enough, Yuri elaborated, “You’re handsome to begin with, but I mean you look beautiful dressed like this.”

Cherriot, who had been grinning in anticipation, blinked. His lips parted as he drew in a silent breath, then pressed firmly together. Color flooded his pale face and warmed his cheeks.

Yuri had barely begun to register his surprise when Cherriot thrust out a hand and covered Yuri’s eyes.

“Wait. Don’t look at me for a moment. I wasn’t expecting you to say that, and I can’t control my expression.”

The large hand resting gently over Yuri’s face smelled pleasant. Cherriot’s pheromones mingled with the fragrance of his shower gel, producing a faint sweetness. He’s being adorable again. Surely Cherriot did not behave this way only with him. Yuri knew that, yet every blush and shy reaction sent his emotions into turmoil. He did not blame Cherriot, but sometimes it felt as though the man kept giving him reasons to hope.

“I’m curious which part you weren’t expecting,” Yuri murmured. When he blinked, Cherriot’s hand twitched; his lashes must have brushed Cherriot’s palm.

“You’ve never told me I was handsome before. So…”

“So?”

“I thought my face wasn’t your type.”

Yuri blinked in surprise beneath the hand. As though unable to bear it any longer, Cherriot pulled his hand away. He rubbed his palm with his thumb, released an inexplicable sigh, then dropped heavily onto the sofa beside Yuri.

“Everyone else tells me I’m handsome, but Wolfie has never once praised my magnificent face. That’s what I mean.”

“I didn’t know you thought about it that way. I’m sorry.”

“That isn’t what you’re supposed to say in a moment like this.”

Yuri turned his head and met Cherriot’s eyes. The younger man had propped his chin on one hand and was watching him. Yuri was still considering what the correct response should have been when Cherriot leaned back against the sofa instead of supplying the answer. Then, he stretched toward the notebook on the table.

“What were you writing?”

The instant Cherriot picked it up, Yuri remembered what he had forgotten and hastily tried to stop him. He caught Cherriot’s wrist, and Cherriot stared at the hand holding him with an oddly delighted expression.

“I was writing down what the dog looked like. There’s nothing worth seeing, so give it back.”

“Why? I’ll read it myself.”

“That would be difficult.” Rare discomfort crossed Yuri’s face as his grip tightened.

Cherriot, however, was an outstanding athlete who had never lost easily in a contest of strength, while Yuri’s muscles remained weaker than before. Accepting that he could not currently overpower him, Yuri sighed and released his wrist. It would be worse if their struggle tore the notebook.

“Is it something I’m not allowed to read? Then I won’t look.”