~Leo’s~

“You’re really stealing my literary flair now.”

Leo leans against the doorframe with a tiny smirk curling the corner of his mouth. His voice is dry, amused, but not cold. He’s watching Reo hunched over the desk in the mansion study, scrawling into a leather-bound journal like his life depends on it.

Reo doesn’t even flinch. He just glances up with a raised brow. “You keep quoting dead poets. I’m just writing down my thoughts.”

“That’s where it starts,” Leo says as he steps further in. “Next thing you know, you’re penning sonnets and hosting candlelit readings in the wine cellar.”

Reo exhales something between a laugh and a...