Chapter 157: The Third Wheel

But instead of lifting Milo up, Salvatore crumpled onto the bed. He buried Milo beneath his broad body.

Then he didn’t move.

Milo froze for a second, staring at him, his heart still hammering from the panic, and now becoming even more panicked. "Is he—"

"He’s fine. He just passed out," Roderick confirmed, exhaling in what sounded like pure relief as he moved back as far as the rope allowed.

"Always like that. He does stupid things, then just sleeps. Good thing he didn’t throw up."

Milo let out a shaky breath, half laugh, half nerves. "That happens a lot?"

"Not really," Roderick said, rubbing at his face with his free hand. "He doesn’t drink often. It’s very rare that he gets this drunk, but when he does, he goes hard, and then he just... collapses. Used to scare the hell out of me the first time. Thought he’d been poisoned once. But he was just tired."

Milo looked at Salvatore lying half on top of him and half on the bed, one leg still hanging over the edge, his shirt rucked up at the waist, breathing slow and even now that the wildness had drained out of him completely.

"He’s so heavy," Milo said, feeling his chest pressed so tightly.

"Come on," Roderick said, nudging him with his tethered arm. "Help me get him to lie down properly. He won’t wake up till morning."

Together, awkwardly, with the rope constantly catching between them, they managed to haul Salvatore off Milo’s body and fully onto the bed, arranging him on his side so he wouldn’t choke if he got sick during the night.

Roderick’s practiced, careful movements suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d handled a drunk boss with quiet efficiency.

Milo finally felt relieved.

Once Salvatore was settled, the two of them arranged themselves across the bed the only way the rope allowed.

Milo in the middle, Roderick on one side with his wrist stretched toward the center, Salvatore curled up on the other.

Roderick was out within minutes, exhaustion from the day and the alcohol finally catching up to him.

Milo lay awake a while longer, staring up at the ceiling, listening to the quiet, mismatched rhythm of their breathing on either side of him.

He thought about how happy he was. It was such a simple thing, something he had never thought could make him feel like a whole man.

He smiled, remembering how Salvatore had acted around him today, how he had been so drunk and still remembered his name, even kissed him.

Milo touched his lips. It had been a wild kiss. But it made his heart warm. He hadn’t expected Salvatore to really acknowledge him even in his unconscious state.

He didn’t know if he should be proud of it.

But he knew it made him happy.

He turned his head slightly, looking at Salvatore’s face in the dark, slack and unguarded in sleep, none of the usual sharpness or control there. He looked younger like this. Softer. Vulnerable in a way Milo rarely got to see.

He hoped, fiercely, that nothing would come for them tonight. No danger at all. Just this... quiet, safe, peaceful night.

Milo closed his eyes and let himself drift off between them.

***

They flew home the next afternoon, all three of them nursing varying degrees of hangovers, Roderick complaining the entire flight about the turbulence making his headache worse.

Salvatore sat in stony, sunglasses-shielded silence, occasionally squeezing Milo’s hand, making Roderick complain even more since he had to sit so close to them.

"It won’t kill you if Milo sits there," Roderick said, holding his temple.

"So what? So he can sit with you?"

"I don’t like sitting here."

"But I want Milo to sit here."

Roderick sighed.

Milo just grinned, feeling Salvatore hold his hand tighter.

Along the way, Roderick occasionally looked at both of them. He felt like the third wheel in a very weird situation right now.

But it gave him such a strange feeling. He’d known Salvatore for years, through wars, through betrayals, through the slow, brutal climb to power that had cost the man nearly everything soft he’d ever had.

Roderick had seen him cold, calculating, terrifying. He’d seen him grieving, though Salvatore would never call it that. He’d seen him furious enough to burn down an entire family over a single insult.

He had never, not once in all those years, seen him like this... grumbling about something, like at the zoo yesterday, but staying there for four hours anyway.

He had just realized Salvatore could be quite soft and controlled his attitude in front of Milo. If it was about Milo, Roderick was sure Salvatore would do anything.

He remembered how panicked Salvatore had been when Milo was in Nero’s hands. How Salvatore had become so crazy and lost control.

And he saw it even more clearly now as they stayed so close together these days. Too close that he could witness their interactions on the bed.

Roderick didn’t say any of this out loud. In the last few days of his life, he could ease his mind knowing that his boss, his best friend, had actually found his soulmate.

He glanced at Salvatore for a moment. He truly wished the best of happiness for him.

***

That evening, Salvatore was already busy with work, and whenever he had to speak to Roderick, it meant Milo would be there too.

"How long do you have to be tied to him?" Salvatore asked, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.

"Two weeks, sir," Milo said.

Roderick’s head snapped up. "W-what? Two weeks? You said many days!"

"Yes," Milo said, gulping. "Two weeks are... many days."

Roderick looked at Milo in horror.

"No way I’m tied to you that long," Roderick said, dragging a hand down his face. "I will die suffering."

"Oh, trust me, sir," Milo said, grinning. "I will make your life happy."

"Oh, I hate it," Roderick muttered, though there was no real venom behind it.

Salvatore watched the exchange with a heavy breath. On one hand, two weeks meant Roderick would be forced to stay close to the mansion, which suited Salvatore’s earlier instincts perfectly. He would make sure Roderick stayed safe.

But on the other hand, it also meant two more weeks of a third wheel attached to Milo’s wrist at all hours, which annoyed him more than he wanted to admit.

It meant he had to hold himself back from dragging Milo into the dark room.

"Well," Salvatore said finally. "You will not cut the rope. For two weeks. I don’t want anything to happen to either of you."

Roderick sighed, resigned. "Tell me at least, after this, you can lift your curse."

Milo hesitated. He couldn’t tell him the truth about the rope, not without unraveling everything Nian had warned him against, but maybe he could offer enough of the real story to answer the question without breaking the spell entirely.

"Yes..." Milo said slowly, choosing his words with care. "Nian told me that it might be my uncle who set the curse on my family. But I don’t know why."

Salvatore’s brow furrowed. "Gallo?"

Roderick straightened sharply. "What? Sebastian Gallo? What’s his connection to this?"

"He’s the only uncle I have," Milo said, glancing between them. "So I suspect he was the one who cursed my family. But I don’t know why he would. The ability I have now is to protect me, but if I want to lift the curse on my family, I have to sacrifice myself, my uncle, or someone else."

Roderick’s expression sharpened further, something calculating settling behind his eyes. "So you’re saying Gallo is your uncle, and he might have cursed your family."

Milo nodded. "Yes."

"So what’s the connection with the rope?"

Milo swallowed, feeling the weight of the lie settle on his tongue before he even spoke it. "I have to tie it to you... to ease the curse."

The words hung there, thin and unconvincing even to Milo’s own ears, but he kept his face as steady as he could manage, praying neither of them would push harder than he could handle.

Roderick studied him for a long moment, clearly unsatisfied with the explanation but apparently too tired, or too used to the strange logic of witches and curses by now, to press further.

"Ease the curse," he repeated flatly. "By tying yourself to me specifically."

"You were the closest," Milo said quickly. "And you already knew about it. It seemed... simplest."

Salvatore’s eyes flicked between the two of them, something faintly suspicious crossing his face, though he said nothing yet, apparently willing to let it go for now.

"Fine," Roderick said finally, exhaling. "Whatever. Two weeks. I’ll survive." He glanced down at the rope, then back up at Milo, something softer creeping into his expression. "You’d better make good on that happy life you promised me."

Milo smiled, relief flooding through him that the conversation hadn’t gone any further than it had. "I will do my best, sir."

Salvatore watched the two of them a moment longer, something unspoken and unresolved still sitting behind his eyes. But he let it rest, for now.

"Alright," he said instead, standing. "Then we figure out the sleeping arrangements for two weeks. Because I refuse to sleep in a room where I can’t touch my boy without an audience."

"Trust me," Roderick said dryly, rubbing at his temple, "I don’t even want to see you making love. But... I hope, I really hope... you won’t fuck him in front of me."