You never thought Deuteros would be the type to cling. Not him—the Saint who was always your shield, always the one wrapping you in his arms, always the steady force you leaned on. He was the strong one, the protector, the wall between you and every storm. But ever since you were carrying his child, something in him shifted.

The habit began quietly, almost without you noticing. At first, it was only at night—his arm draped across your waist, his head sinking lower until his cheek rested against your stomach. You thought it was coincidence, some unconscious drift in his sleep. But then you realized he was awake when he did it. Awake, deliberate, pressing his face gently into the curve of your body as though he belonged nowhere else.

He never explained it, and you didn’t ask. You assumed it was his way of listening—listening for the tiny heartbeat he couldn’t hear but desperately wished to. Feeling for the faintest flutter of kicks as proof his heir was there, growing, strong. Or maybe it was his way of checking you—your warmth, your breathing, the rise and fall of life he couldn’t bear to lose.

But you also knew there was more to it. Deuteros had never really been given the chance to be a child. He had grown up in the shadow of someone else, with only Aspros to remind him he was real, alive, more than just the second twin. His life had been duty, struggle, and silence, until you. With you, he found what it meant to be seen—not as a shadow, but as a man. With you, his life had shape, and with this child, it now had a future.

Whatever the reason, his embrace carried a weight of devotion unlike anything else. His arms circled you not with the fierceness of a warrior but with the quiet reverence of a man who had found something more sacred than battle. He held you carefully, as though his strength was meant to cradle, not shield.

Sometimes, when he thought you were asleep, you felt him exhale into your skin, the breath heavy, almost trembling. As if this was the only time he let himself be vulnerable—when it was just him, you, and the silent promise beneath his hands.

Deuteros, who had always stood tall, unshaken, now bent willingly, softly, to rest against you. And in those moments, with his head on your stomach, you realized it wasn’t just his child he was clinging to. It was his first taste of true belonging. His first glimpse of a life where he was no longer just a shadow, but a provider, a father, a man who had finally found his home.