Work Text:
— • —
The morning sun hung low over the campus, casting long shadows across the stone walkways, but Aran wasn’t looking at the scenery.
He was frozen mid-stride, his iced coffee sweating in his hand as he nudged his twin brother with a sharp, bony elbow.
“Solar, look... that man in glasses is hot,” Aran whispered, his voice vibrating with an immediate, reckless kind of interest.
Solar, who had been buried in a thick textbook on advanced thermodynamics, let out a soft groan of protest before looking up.
He adjusted his own cap, squinting against the glare. Following Aran’s frantic pointing, he saw him: a man in a crisp charcoal turtleneck and wire-rimmed spectacles, walking toward the building with a bag slung over his shoulder.
He moved with a quiet confidence that felt entirely out of place amidst the chaos of hungover sophomores and racing skateboards.
“Aran, what’s with that face?” Solar asked, finally turning back to his twin. He immediately recoiled. Aran’s eyes were narrowed, and a slow, mischievous grin was spreading across his face—the kind of look that usually preceded a campus-wide prank or a very expensive mistake.
“I like him,” Aran stated simply, his mind already spinning three steps ahead. Solar rolled his eyes, snapping his book shut with a decisive thud.
“You don’t even know him.”
“I will now,” Aran said, his grin sharpening. He didn’t wait for a rebuttal. With a sudden burst of energy, he pivoted on his heel and began weaving through the crowd of students, trailing the man in the glasses like a heat-seeking missile.
“Aran! Don’t you dare!” Solar yelled, but it was useless. Solar stood there for a heartbeat, staring at the spot where his brother had been.
He sighed—a deep, weary sound that carried the weight of twenty years of being the “responsible” twin. He knew that look.
Aran wasn’t just going to ask for directions; he was going to turn a simple introduction into a theatrical production.
Shaking his head and muttering a string of curses under his breath, Solar broke into a jog to catch up. He reached Aran just as they neared the entrance of the hall.
“Think about this for two seconds,” Solar hissed, grabbing Aran’s hoodie sleeve to slow him down.
“You’re sweaty, you’re holding a melting latte, and you’re wearing mismatched socks. You can’t just walk up to him and declare your soul belongs to him.” Aran didn’t even look back, his eyes fixed on the man who was now ascending the marble steps.
“Details, Solar. Minor details. Watch and learn.” Solar stayed two paces behind, hovering in a state of perpetual readiness to apologize for whatever chaos was about to ensue.
He knew he couldn’t stop the storm; he could only hope to be there with an umbrella when it inevitably started raining.
Aran didn’t slow down as they crossed the threshold into the air-conditioned hall. He had already tucked his messy hair behind his ears and smoothed out his shirt, adopting a look of sudden, intense academic focus.
Solar, meanwhile, felt like he was walking toward a firing squad.
The man stopped at the bulletin board, his eyes scanning a list of room assignments. Up close, he was even more intimidating—the kind of person who looked like he breathed coffee and classic literature.
“Excuse me,” Aran started, his voice dropping an octave into a tone Solar had never heard him use before. It was smooth, almost polite.
“I couldn’t help but notice you looking at the schedule. Are you looking for the Seminar Room? It got moved to the East Wing.” The man turned, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.
He looked at Aran, then shifted his gaze to a breathless, wide-eyed Solar hovering behind him. A small, amused smile tugged at the corner of the stranger’s mouth.
“Is that so?” the man asked, his voice deep and calm.
“Because I was actually looking for the registrar. But I appreciate the... direction.” Aran didn’t skip a beat.
“Oh, the registrar? Even better. That’s right past the campus café. I’m actually headed that way myself. I’m Aran, by the way. This is my shadow, Solar.” Solar wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.
“I am not a shadow,” he muttered, though he stepped forward to nod awkwardly.
“He’s just... very helpful. Usually.” The man chuckled, a low sound that made Aran’s grin widen.
“I’m Pobmek. And since you’re headed that way, Aran, maybe you can tell me if the coffee here is as life-changing as the students claim.”
“It’s terrible,” Aran said instantly, already walking alongside Pobmek as if they’d been friends for years.
“But I know a place two blocks away that’s actually drinkable. If you’ve got twenty minutes, I could give you a proper orientation.”
Solar stepped forward, his face burning a bright red. He couldn’t let his brother’s sheer audacity go unchecked, especially not with someone who looked like they actually had their life together.
“I am so sorry,” Solar blurted out, moving to stand between Aran and their unsuspecting target.
“My brother has zero filter and even less of a sense of personal space. He thinks the entire campus is his personal stage. Please, ignore him.” Pobmek shifted his attention from Aran to Solar.
The movement was slow, deliberate, and entirely devastating. As he tilted his head, the fluorescent lights caught the edge of his glasses, momentarily obscuring his eyes before they cleared to reveal a gaze that was sharp, observant, and unexpectedly warm.
He didn’t look annoyed. Instead, he looked at Solar with an intensity that felt like being pinned under a microscope.
“No need to apologize,” Pobmek said softly. His eyes traveled from Solar’s messy hair down to the white-knuckled grip he had on his textbook, then back up to his face.
“I find the honesty refreshing. Is he always this protective of you, Solar?” The way Pobmek said his name—low, steady, and with a slight lilt—sent a sudden, sharp jolt through Solar’s chest.
His breath hitched in his throat, getting stuck somewhere behind his ribs. He felt his pulse thrumming in his ears, and he had to force himself to swallow hard against the sudden dryness in his mouth.
He was usually the one with the words, the one who could explain the laws of physics or the complexities of history, but under that gaze, his brain felt like a corrupted hard drive.
Aran, standing just half a step back, didn’t miss the way Solar’s shoulders had gone rigid or the way his twin had suddenly forgotten how to breathe.
A slow, knowing smirk crawled across Aran’s face. He stayed uncharacteristically silent, crossing his arms and leaning against the hallway wall.
He had intended to be the one doing the flirting, but seeing his “perfectly composed” brother completely short-circuit was a far more entertaining development.
He caught Solar’s eye for a split second, his expression screaming ‘Look who’s interested now’, but he didn’t utter a word. He just watched the visible tension radiating off his twin, enjoying the rare sight of Solar being the one caught off guard.
A few weeks later…
The concrete rooftop was still radiating the day’s heat, but the breeze blowing across the campus was cool enough to make the Monday evening bearable.
For the past few weeks, the trio had become a common fixture at the local café—Aran usually leading the charge with his relentless flirting while Pobmek watched with an amused, steady patience.
Usually, Aran was the one dominating Pobmek’s time, throwing out lines that would make anyone else cringe, while Solar played the silent observer.
But today, Aran had been called away for a family emergency, leaving Solar and Pobmek alone to finish their research notes.
They had wandered up to the roof to catch the sunset, a habit Solar usually kept to himself. The sky was a bruised purple and burnt orange, bleeding over the horizon in a way that made the university buildings look like silhouettes.
“It’s quiet up here,” Pobmek said, leaning his elbows on the rusted railing. He took off his glasses to wipe them with his hem, his profile looking softer, more approachable without the barrier of the lenses.
Solar nodded, keeping a careful distance.
“Best place to think. Or to not think at all.”
When the sun finally dipped below the skyline, the air turned sharp.
“We should probably head down before the security guard locks the—” Solar’s sentence was cut off by a heavy, metallic clack.
They both bolted for the door. Solar grabbed the handle and yanked. It didn’t budge. He pulled again, harder this time, the sound of his own heart beginning to race against his ribs.
“Locked?” Pobmek asked, stepping closer.
“Deadlocked,” Solar sighed, leaning his forehead against the cold metal.
“The janitor usually clears this floor at 6:00 PM. We’re stuck until the morning rounds.” They retreated to a small concrete bench shielded from the wind.
For a long time, they just sat in the dark, the city lights flickering in the distance. The silence wasn’t awkward, but it was heavy.
“Aran is going to have a field day with this,” Solar muttered, hugging his knees to his chest.
“He’s going to say I planned it.” Pobmek laughed, a melodic sound that seemed to vibrate in the small space between them.
“And did you?” Solar looked up, caught off guard.
“No! I’m not... I don’t do things like that. I’m the boring one, remember?”
“You’re not boring, Solar,” Pobmek said, his voice dropping to that specific register that always made Solar’s skin prickle. He shifted closer, his shoulder brushing against Solar’s.
“You’re just quiet. There’s a difference. I’ve spent weeks watching Aran try to get my attention, but I spent most of that time wondering what you were thinking while you watched us.” Solar felt his breath hitch—that same, familiar catch in his throat from the day they met.
“I was just... making sure he didn’t scare you off.”
“You weren’t,” Pobmek whispered. He reached out, his fingers grazing Solar’s jawline, tilting his head up.
The world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them. The distant sound of traffic faded. Solar could smell the faint scent of sandalwood and old books clinging to Pobmek’s jacket.
Slowly, Pobmek leaned in, his eyes darting down to Solar’s lips and then back to his eyes, searching for a reason to stop. Solar didn’t pull away; he leaned forward, his eyes fluttering shut.
Their lips were inches apart, the heat of the other’s breath ghosting over their skin, when the heavy door suddenly groaned and swung open with a violent bang.
“Found them! I told you they’d be up here!”
The spell shattered. Solar and Pobmek scrambled in opposite directions, Solar nearly tripping over his own feet as he stood up.
Aran stood in the doorway, a flashlight in one hand and a smug, unbearable smirk on his face. Behind him stood a confused-looking security guard.
“Interrupting something?” Aran asked, his eyes dancing between Solar’s flushed face and Pobmek’s unusually ruffled hair.
Solar cleared his throat, frantically smoothing his shirt.
“The door... it was locked. We were just... waiting.”
“Right,” Aran drawled, stepping aside to let them pass, but leaning in to whisper in Solar’s ear as he walked by.
“You owe me for finding you, but you owe me more for the show I almost saw.”
Pobmek stood in the dim light of his kitchen, the humming of the refrigerator the only sound in an apartment that suddenly felt far too small.
He grabbed a glass of water, but his hand trembled slightly, the cool condensation doing nothing to settle the heat radiating through his chest.
He was a man who prided himself on his cerebral nature, a man who lived in the world of theories and peer-reviewed certainties. But no amount of academic rigor could explain away the absolute wreckage the twins were making of his subconscious.
They had become a permanent, dual-screen projection in his mind, playing on a loop 24/7.
When he closed his eyes, the dreams didn’t just start; they consumed him. Aran was always the first to appear, a whirlwind of charisma and sharp edges.
In the dream, they were often in a crowded room that felt strangely empty, Aran’s focus narrowed entirely on him. Pobmek could feel the ghost of a touch as Aran leaned in, his fingers grazing Pobmek’s jaw before hooking firmly under his chin.
“You spend so much time thinking, Pobmek,” dream-Aran would whisper, his voice a low, melodic friction. His thumb would trace the line of Pobmek’s lower lip, pulling it down just enough to be suggestive.
“Don’t you think it’s time you started feeling instead?” That smirk—that infuriating, beautiful, confident smirk—was the last thing Pobmek would see before the dream shifted, the air growing heavier and thicker with every breath.
But the shift brought the true danger: Solar.
If Aran was the spark, Solar was the slow-burning fire that eventually leveled the building. In reality, Solar was the one who looked away first, the one who gripped his books like a shield.
But in the theater of Pobmek’s sleep, that shield was gone.
Pobmek found himself pinned to the bed, the silk of his sheets cool against his back, but the weight on his lap was searingly hot.
Solar was there, straddling him with a possessive, unyielding strength that left Pobmek breathless. This wasn’t the boy who stumbled over apologies; this was a version of Solar who knew exactly what he wanted.
He would wrap Pobmek’s silk necktie around his fist, tightening the knot and jerking Pobmek upward until their noses brushed.
The look in dream-Solar’s eyes was dark and utterly predatory. He didn’t need to flirt; his presence was a demand. Every time those eyes locked onto his, Pobmek felt a visceral, heavy thrumming wake up deep in his gut, a physical reaction so intense it felt like a betrayal of his own body.
He groaned into the empty kitchen, leaning his head against the cold tile of the backsplash. He was supposed to be the mentor, the steady hand, the one who kept things professional.
Yet here he was, haunted by the playful devilry of one brother and the hidden, wild sensuality of the other.
He was losing his grip on the boundary between his waking life and these vivid, nocturnal hauntings. Every time he saw them on campus now—Aran’s wink or Solar’s quiet, lingering gaze—it felt like they were in on the secret.
He was a man of logic, but looking at his reflection, Pobmek knew he was losing this battle. He wasn’t just in trouble; he was spiraling, and the worst part was, he wasn’t sure he wanted to be saved.
The sheer physical reality of it was what truly unnerved him.
Pobmek would bolt upright in the darkness, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. He didn’t feel anything when it’s Aran… But Solar… Oh, damn Solar.
The silence of his bedroom would rush back in, cold and indifferent, but his body remained trapped in the heat of the vision.
He would lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, feeling the frantic drumming of his heart against his ribs. And every single time, without fail, he would find his pet down there standing proudly, straining against the fabric of his boxers with an insistence that made his face burn with a mixture of shame and desire.
He would groan, throwing an arm over his eyes to shut out the moonlight, but the physical ache remained, a pulsing reminder of the duality of his predicament.
In the daylight, he could pretend. He could adjust his glasses, keep his voice steady, and treat them as the brilliant, albeit chaotic, students they were.
He could maintain the facade of the composed, older academic. But his body held the truth that his mind tried to suppress.
The “pet’ was a traitor, responding to the mere memory of Solar’s dominant gaze that left Pobmek feeling utterly powerless.
He would eventually have to drag himself out of bed, the cool floor tiles a harsh contrast to the lingering warmth of his skin, to deal with the physical aftermath of his subconscious betrayals.
As he stood under the spray of a cold shower, trying to wash away the traces of the twins from his mind and his body, he knew the cycle would only repeat.
They were in his blood now, a fever he couldn’t break, and every morning served as a stiff, proud reminder that Pobmek was no longer the master of his own composure.
The tension had reached a breaking point where silence felt like a physical weight in Pobmek’s chest.
He couldn’t go another night staring at his ceiling, haunted by the ghost of that rooftop moment. He was supposed to be a focused student, a peer who had his life together, but Solar was systematically dismantling his composure.
He messaged them both: “Meet me at the rooftop. 6:00 PM. We need to talk.”
When he pushed open the heavy metallic door, the twins were already there, framed by the sunset.
Aran was leaning against the railing, looking as effortless as ever, while Solar stood a few paces back, his hands shoved deep into his pockets.
“You look serious, Pobmek,” Aran said, his usual playful lilt tinged with curiosity.
“Did our study sessions finally fry your brain?”
Pobmek didn’t stop until he was standing directly in front of them. He took off his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose before looking at them both.
“I’ve spent weeks trying to play it cool,” he began, his voice steady despite the thrumming of his pulse.
“I tried to act like we were just three friends hanging out between classes. But it’s not that simple.” He looked at Aran, acknowledging the persistent presence in his periphery.
“Aran, you’ve been in my head. I’ve had dreams about you—your flirting, the way you try to get a reaction out of me—but when I wake up, there’s nothing. No spark. No lingering heat.”
Then, he turned his gaze entirely to Solar, and his expression softened into something raw and vulnerable.
“But with you, Solar... it’s different. When I close my eyes, I see the version of you that isn’t afraid to take what he wants. I see the intensity you hide behind your books. And when I wake up from those dreams, my heart is racing and I’m... I’m completely wrecked. I like you, Solar. More than just a friend. More than anyone else.” Solar’s eyes widened, a deep flush creeping up his neck as he stood frozen in shock.
The heavy silence was suddenly broken by a melodic chuckle. Pobmek and Solar both turned to see Aran pushing off the railing, a genuinely amused—not hurt—smile on his face.
“Finally,” Aran said, shaking his head.
“Took you long enough to say it out loud.” Pobmek blinked, confused.
“Aran, I just told you I don’t feel—”
“I know, Pobmek,” Aran interrupted, waving a hand dismissively.
“I knew from the second week. Every time I flirted with you, you’d look at me, but your eyes would immediately wander over to see how Solar was reacting. And Solar? He’s been a pining mess for a month.” Aran walked over and clapped a hand on Pobmek’s shoulder, then nudged Solar toward him.
“I was just testing the two of you. Someone had to stir the pot or you two would have spent the next four years staring at each other across a library table. You were too easy to read.” Aran walked toward the door, throwing a wink over his shoulder.
“I’ll leave you two to the ‘sunset’ part of the evening. Don’t get locked in again—unless that’s the plan.” As the door clicked shut, Solar finally took a step closer, his hand tentatively reaching for Pobmek’s.
“He’s right,” Solar whispered, his voice low and steady.
“I have been a mess. And I’m glad you said it first.”
Aran let out a satisfied breath as he descended the stairs, the heavy metal door thudding shut behind him. He could practically feel the awkward, electric tension he’d left in his wake, and it made him grin.
Mission accomplished. His brother was finally going to stop moping, and Pobmek could finally stop pretending he was only interested in “study sessions.”
He reached the landing and pulled his phone from his back pocket. The screen glowed against the dim hallway lighting, reflecting the mischievous spark still dancing in his eyes.
He didn’t hesitate, his thumbs flying across the keyboard as he pulled up his most recent thread.
The contact name read Tawan, followed by a single black heart emoji.
Aran: Mission “Matchmaker” is officially a success. My brother and Pobmek are currently having a ‘moment’ on the roof. I deserve a reward for being such a good twin.
He leaned against the cool concrete wall, waiting. He didn’t have to wait long. The phone buzzed in his palm almost instantly.
Tawan: Always playing puppet master, aren’t you? What kind of reward were you thinking of?
Aran bit his lip, a much more dangerous look crossing his face than the one he used for his harmless campus flirting. With Tawan, he didn’t have to put on a performance or test the waters; the water was already boiling.
Aran: I’m headed out of the campus gates now. Surprise me. But make it quick—I’ve spent all day dealing with repressed feelings, and I’m ready to deal with something a little more... expressive.
Tawan: Five minutes. Don’t make me wait at the curb.
Aran tucked the phone away, his pace quickening. While Solar was upstairs finally finding his voice, Aran was more than ready to find his own distraction.
He headed for the exit, whistling a low tune, leaving the quiet romance of the rooftop far behind for something much louder.
— • —
04 • 27 • 26