Atem P.O.V.

The moment Yugi left the room, Atem let out a long, suffering sigh and flopped back against the air mattress.

He had spent literal years navigating the complexities of existence itself, untangling puzzles of life, death, and destiny—yet somehow, this was what finally reduced him to a confused, overheated mess.

Worse, Yugi's scent still lingered on the fabric beside him. It was warm, familiar, and impossibly comforting in a way that made his already frazzled nerves twitch. Atem clenched his fists, staring at the ceiling, willing himself not to do something embarrassing.

He failed.

Because after a few moments of internal struggle, he found himself turning his head just slightly, just enough to breathe it in—

And immediately regretted everything.

It sent a jolt down his spine, something instinctive and primal curling up in his chest. A ridiculous, utterly irrational part of him wanted to bury himself in that lingering warmth, to press his face against it and stay there.

Ra's name, what the hell was wrong with him?!

With sheer force of will, Atem yanked himself back to reality, shoving a pillow over his face. His heart was pounding way too hard for something so stupid.

He wasn't a fool. He knew he was attracted to Yugi, had known for a while now—but this? This was something else.

He was restless, his skin felt too tight, and there was this low, humming need curling in his stomach that made absolutely no sense. He gritted his teeth, mentally cursing his body for whatever this was.

Maybe it was just exhaustion. He'd had a long, emotionally draining day. Surely that was it.

Atem took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.

He just needed rest.

And not to dwell on the fact that, despite all logic, his body was still aching for Yugi's scent.

Atem was barely holding himself together.

The first week of school was nothing short of hell. Between catching up on coursework, being constantly bombarded by classmates who wanted to talk to the Atem Sennen (a name he still wasn't used to), and desperately trying to prove he was capable of graduating with the others, he was running on fumes.

But none of that was as bad as the other problem.

The problem that had Atem chewing on the end of his pen, glaring at his homework like it had personally offended him.

Yugi's hoodie was way too soft. Unreasonably soft. And it smelled like Yugi—like home. And Atem wanted to curl into it like some kind of lovesick fool and lose his entire mind.

He was so screwed.

Worse, this wasn't just about the damn hoodie. Atem was aware—painfully aware—of the bizarre urge to nest. He had no idea where it was coming from, only that it was an incessant, itching impulse at the back of his mind. Every time he passed Yugi's bed, he had to physically resist the urge to start collecting all the softest blankets and pillows and making a comfortable space.

He had even caught himself eyeing the laundry pile earlier, seriously considering burrowing into it.

What the hell was wrong with him?!

To make matters worse, Akari had definitely noticed.

She hadn't said anything, but Atem wasn't an idiot. He saw the way her gaze lingered when he clenched his fists against his thighs, visibly forcing himself not to start fussing with the couch pillows.

And she had restocked everything.

Atem nearly lost his mind when he realized there were suddenly extra blankets folded neatly in the closet, a freshly bought heating pad tucked in the corner, and—Ra help him—an entire stack of plushies that had not been there before.

That had been the moment he started questioning if he was actually dying.

Because between his hormones making him an irritable, frustrated mess, Yugi's scent flooding his senses 24/7, and his body screaming at him to build a nest like some sort of ridiculous cliché, Atem was on the verge of completely unraveling.

And he still had no idea why.

Atem had been trying to focus on his homework. Really, he had.

The house was blissfully quiet—Yugi was out with Jonouchi and Anzu, Grandpa was at the shop, and Akari was working late. That left him alone, with nothing but the looming pile of classwork and a determination to not fall behind.

Except... he'd somehow ended up on the floor.

And surrounded by blankets.

And pillows.

And one of Yugi's hoodies, which he absolutely did not steal from the laundry, he just... found it. It was there. And it smelled nice. And he was just holding it for comfort.

This was fine.

…Until he looked around and actually processed what he was doing.

The math textbook he had been working on was abandoned somewhere under a blanket. The couch cushions had been stripped, dragged down to the floor, and arranged into a structured little space—his space. The walls of his little nest curved around him, surrounding him in warmth and softness.

And that's when it hit him.

"…Wait."

He froze.

His brain ran a quick, frantic diagnostic check on everything he'd been doing for the past hour.

• Gathering soft things? Check.

• Stealing Yugi's hoodie because it smelled good? Check.

• Making a cozy space without even thinking about it? Big check.

• Haven't had a heat since he got his body back? —oh.

Atem's stomach dropped.

This has been going on for weeks. The urge to hoard blankets, his frustration over his scent being too sharp, his emotions being everywhere.

How had he not noticed?

"…Oh no."

He sat there, eyes darting wildly around the living room like he could somehow logic his way out of this.

"No. No, no, no, no, no. This is— This is ridiculous."

Except it wasn't. Because all the signs were there.

All of them.

And he knew his own body. He'd always been regular about his heat cycles before. There was no reason for him to have skipped one. Unless—

Oh.

Oh gods.

"Shit."

Atem bolted upright, heart pounding in his chest.

"No. Nope. This is— I can't. I cannot let anyone find out."

If anyone saw this? He was doomed.

Scrambling to his feet, he immediately started tearing his little nest apart. Pillows were thrown back onto the couch, blankets folded in a flurry of movements, Yugi's hoodie yeeted across the room in panic. He shoved everything back into place so fast he nearly tripped over the coffee table.

By the time the front door opened—Yugi calling, "Tadaima!"—the living room was pristine.

Atem was sitting rigidly at the table, math textbook open, pencil in hand, looking so studious it had to be suspicious.

Yugi blinked. "…You okay?"

Atem didn't look up. Didn't breathe. Didn't move.

"Yes."

Yugi narrowed his eyes. "…You sure?"

Atem gave a stiff nod. "Yes. I am doing homework."

Yugi squinted at him for a long moment before shrugging. "Okaay then."

He turned away, heading for the kitchen, and Atem finally let out a slow, shaking breath.

He was fine.

This was fine.

…He was so screwed.

Atem had spent five months throwing himself into schoolwork with a level of desperate intensity that bordered on obsessive.

The sheer panic of his situation made focusing on calculus, literature, and history so much easier than dealing with his own body. If he just buried himself in homework, he could ignore everything else.

And it worked. Somehow.

He and Yugi both graduated with honors.

And Yugi? Yugi had done even better.

Valedictorian.

Atem had never been prouder.

Standing beside him at the graduation ceremony, watching Yugi give his speech, Atem could only stare in awe. His heart felt so full—with admiration, with pride, with love.

But then, after the ceremony, as they made their way back to Yugi's family...

Atem noticed him.

A man.

Tall. Middle-aged. A presence.

Standing beside Akari with a stiff posture and a critical eye, his sharp features twisted into something almost unreadable as he gazed at his son.

Atem knew instantly who he was.

Hayate Mutou.

Yugi's father.

A banker who had lived overseas for most of Yugi's life, absent for years, never returning—until now.

And the moment Hayate's gaze flicked from Yugi to Atem, his face hardened.

Atem felt it immediately.

The weight of it. The disdain. The dismissal. The quiet, cutting sort of judgment.

And then Hayate opened his mouth, voice smooth, but bitingly cold.

"So. This is the good-for-nothing omega you've been keeping around?"

Atem stiffened.

Yugi's entire body tensed.

Akari's eyes flashed.

And just like that—Atem knew.

This wasn't going to be easy.

For a long, tense moment, no one spoke.