Lucien excitedly climbed the stairs, each step creaking softly under his weight.
He could almost see their younger selves racing up ahead of him; three tiny brats with scraped knees, pretending they were secret agents with a private headquarters.
Their own little world, safe and untouched, where no adult rules could reach them.
And now it was real.
Though, he understood why his father never agreed to build them one. The only tree strong enough was the ancient wisteria, the massive one that had stood for thousands of years.
Too old and sacred to risk damaging just for a childish fantasy. Cesare had been strict, but Lucien knew his father loved that tree too much to let anyone hamr into it. In hindsight, he was glad.
He tapped the stair with his foot. "Hmm. This thing is strong enough, huh? I thought it’d give up the mont I stepped on it."
"The wood can easily hold the weight of three grown n," Silas replied. "We ca here every year to check it. Make sure it didn’t rot or collapse."
"I see..." Lucien murmured.
He slowed, then stopped entirely. His gaze snagged on sothing carved deep into the bark beside the stairs.
His hand lifted before he realized it, brushing the rough edges of the old letters.
’Lucien we are here!’
’Twinster is here!’
’We love to play with you again.’
’Please search for us.’
A sour taste pooled under his tongue. The childish handwriting cut deeper than any blade, each uneven line a reminder of two boys who waited, hoped, cried, and carved their loneliness into wood; while he lived a life where their nas never even crossed his mind.
"It was Adrian," Silas chuckled quietly. "See how ugly the handwriting is."
"Shut up!" Adrian yelled from above. He was already at the top step, waving impatiently.
"What are you two doing? Get up here!"
"Let’s go," Silas said gently, giving Lucien’s back a soft push.
Lucien nodded, unable to trust his voice. His mind churned with the ugly truth, every step brought another carving, another drawing burned into the bark.
Marks made year after year, proof that they never stopped waiting. Proof that they never stopped believing he’d return.
And yet he never did.
He lived his life untouched, unbothered, ignorant. Forgetting the very people who refused to forget him.
When he reached the top of the stairs, his breath beca heavier. The sight that greeted him made it worse, because Adrian stood there beaming with the kind of pure excitent only he could pull off.
The alpha grabbed his hand and tugged lightly, urging him forward.
"Co here, Lucien. Let’s see the inside of our tree house."
The word ’our’ hit him harder than he expected. It slipped under his ribs like a quiet ache. Still, Lucien kept quite as if nothing stirred inside him. He refused to ruin their joy.
Inside, the air slled faintly of wood, dust, and old paint. He paused, stunned, because it was exactly how he imagined it as a child.
The colorful fairy lights stretched across every corner like glowing vines. They cast soft ripples of color over the beanbag chairs and the shelves lined with his favorite comics and novels.
Toy swords and wooden guns leaned in a ssy pile beside a small open window shaped precisely for spying on imaginary enemies.
"Wow... this is just like our old design," Lucien murmured. He could not help the small smile that slipped out. "It feels the sa."
"How is it? Do you like it?" Adrian sounded so proud his voice almost cracked. "We ca here every year and later every month to build this place and decorate it."
"It wasn’t easy since we needed to win the match to travel freely, but everything felt worth it. We knew one day you would co and play with us again," he continued with a grin that made him look five years younger.
Lucien did not answer. His hand drifted instead toward the mural painted on the inner wall. A collection of chaotic lines, smudged colors, and clumsy shapes greeted him, all clearly created by small hands with too much emotion and too little technique. Yet he understood every scene.
It was the three of them playing on the beach. It was them pretending to be secret agents. It was him steering a pirate ship while Silas and Adrian laughed in the background.
It was them sitting on the wisteria branches. It was their tea party. It was even Mikhail standing awkwardly nearby, included only because he sotis hovered around Lucien back then.
The scent of old paint, the toys placed exactly like they once imagined, the worn cushions, all of it felt like a ssage.
A mark they carved into reality so he would know he had not vanished from their world.
Lucien brushed the pictures slowly. Tears slid down his cheeks without him noticing until Silas spoke.
"What’s wrong, Lucien? Are you crying?" His voice was gentle and worried.
"Oh, are you moved because we built this for you?" Adrian smirked, trying to lighten the mont.
Lucien did not snap back or tease him. He simply nodded.
"Thank you for waiting for ," he whispered. His voice trembled, "I am sorry it took so long for to co back."
Silas and Adrian froze. Their eyes widened. Their breaths hitched. Then they rushed toward him at the sa ti, arms wrapping around him with a force that pushed all the air out of his lungs.
Their warmth settled around him easily, like sothing familiar returning after a long absence.
He felt their breaths, their shaking shoulders, and the quiet joy in the way they clung to him.
"Welco ho, Lucien."
"Yes," he murmured. "I am ho."
In this world, so people were born free, their paths open before them from the start. Others had to fight for every inch of their freedom.
The Twinster belonged to the second kind. They grew from years of hardship and suffering, shaped into people who stood upright through their own pain.
For a mont, Lucien wondered if he had beco another chain around their ankles.
He leaned closer and whispered softly. "I hope both of you find your own destination soday. I hope you live for yourselves and not just for soone else."
They looked confused, but they nodded anyway. Today was too important to question anything.
Today their dream finally returned to them. They could play with Lucien again just like before.
"How about we take a picture to commorate this day?" Silas suggested suddenly. "The last ti we took one together was when we were children."
"Right!"
They separated. Adrian rummaged through a shelf and pulled out an old cara.
"Oh, isn’t that the one you gave for my birthday?" Lucien asked. "So it’s in your hand all this ti."
"Well, yes. You put it in Silas’s bag and since we were separated, it stayed with us," Adrian explained.
"I see. That makes sense."
They huddled together, and Adrian stretched his arm to take a photo the sa way he used to.
Except now they were adults, and the picture captured a new beginning rather than a mory of the past.
The tree house finally had its owner. The mont finally had its place.
And for the first ti, it felt like all three of them were exactly where they were supposed to be.
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