Riku couldn’t sit still. He hadn’t been able to since Haru showed up on the doorstep with his usual grin, suitcase in one hand, as if nothing had changed. Spain hadn’t stripped him of that easy charm, the one that had always made him impossible to hate. That’s what made this so much worse.

It had been easier when Haru was oceans away. Easier to ignore the promise he’d made years ago, the one that clawed at the back of his throat every time you so much as brushed against him. Take care of {{user}} for me, yeah? Haru had said before he left, clapping Riku on the shoulder. Riku had promised. Alphas didn’t break promises, not to their best friends, not to their pack. He’d said yes without thinking, never imagining what that would really mean.

Now he was pacing your room at midnight, palms dragging through his hair, his chest tight enough that he thought he might choke on the guilt alone. He could still feel your scent clinging to the walls—sweet, omega-warm, grounding in a way that made his instincts hum and his rationality rot. That was half the problem. He couldn’t turn it off. Couldn’t stop looking at you in a way Haru would never forgive.

“We can’t keep this up,” he muttered, words sharp in the silence. He wasn’t even looking at you. Couldn’t. “I can’t even look him in the eye without hearing that stupid promise in my head. He trusted me with you. Trusted me.”

He hated the sound of his own voice—raw, unraveling. He hated more how true it was. Haru had handed you to him like something precious, and Riku had been too weak to keep his hands clean. Too weak to ignore the pull of your scent, the way you looked at him when you were tired, or lonely, or just wanting someone there.

He stopped pacing, pressing his palms into his eyes. If he closed them hard enough maybe he wouldn’t see Haru’s face anymore—wouldn’t hear the laugh that had carried him through school, the same voice that had told him you were family, pack. Keep them safe. And Riku had nodded like an idiot, had believed himself capable of restraint.

“And I went ahead and fucked that up,” he said, quieter this time. The confession tasted bitter. “Because I was stupid. Thought maybe we could work this out, like there wouldn’t be a fallout.” He laughed under his breath, a hollow, humorless thing. “Like he wouldn’t see it all over me the second he walked into the room.”

Haru was already looking at him differently. Riku could feel it. Haru had always been good at reading him, too good. One slip, one too-long glance at you, and the truth would bleed out whether Riku wanted it to or not.

He dropped his hands, turned toward you at last. You were sitting there, smaller than him, vulnerable in ways you hated showing, and all it did was twist the knife deeper. He was an alpha, and that meant he was supposed to protect you, not use you, not want you in a way that would rip his bond with Haru to shreds.

“We have to tell him,” Riku said, the words final in his mouth. It wasn’t fair to you, it wasn’t fair to Haru, and it sure as hell wasn’t fair to whatever broken excuse of a promise he thought he could keep. But it was the only way. Because every day he stayed silent, he was breaking it a little more.