The Royal Military Academy's Impostor Owns a Dungeon [BL]
Chapter 438: Occupy

Chapter 438: Occupy

Ollie blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

His mind, normally sharp when calculating his money and physical assets, had entered an irreversible loop.

There were sparks behind his eyes. His brain tried to reboot.

Too bad his ears were still echoing "Because I am. So, please be aware of my efforts."

Huh?

Wait.

Wait.

WAIT.

That—that was a CONFESSION, wasn’t it???

A REAL ONE!

FROM A REAL PERSON!

From KYLE!!!

Nearby sensors might not have picked up the sound of his internal screaming, but it was definitely heard in the higher realms.

Ollie crashed.

A small, pitiful system reboot screen flashed in his soul.

He swayed. Eyes glassy.

Then—

SPLURT.

A tiny nosebleed escaped.

Kyle caught it in real time, moving with the speed of a trained adjutant whose prospective wife had just combusted from romantic input.

Coolly, he reached into his pocket. A tissue appeared like he’d always been prepared for such things.

Without a word, he dabbed under Ollie’s nose.

Ollie, now in full breakdown mode, flailed back in alarm.

"I-I—YOU—WHAT—WHY—THAT—WAS—"

Words failed him.

Arms flapped like panicked fins.

He nearly knocked over the mysterious box he’d just been gifted as Kyle held his wrist to stabilize him, his voice calm as ever.

"You’re bleeding. So, let’s try to get that under control first."

Ollie was gently guided to lean forward, his face now alarmingly close to the adjutant, who, for some reason, was suddenly taking up his entire field of vision.

"I need you to pinch your nose for a moment—"

"I KNOW I’M BLEEDING, KYLE!!" Ollie shrieked, his voice comically nasal and high-pitched from the blockage. "YOU—YOU CAN’T JUST SAY STUFF LIKE THAT!"

"I didn’t say it to demand an answer."

Ollie squeaked.

Literally squeaked.

"I didn’t—I mean—I NEVER THOUGHT—YOU—ME?!?"

"Yes," Kyle said evenly, not missing a beat. "You."

"Me"

"And everything in between."

Ollie, the small and overwhelmed program, encountered another error.

Another stream of blood tried to escape, only for Kyle to calmly press a fresh tissue against it.

Meanwhile, the blonde could only whimper under the giant’s care.

And that was when Ollie slumped back, red as a boiled lobster, hand clutched to his chest like some melodramatic novel heroine struck by a curse or a heart attack.

"Mother once warned me of this," he whispered hoarsely. "One day, someone will look at me and I will perish."

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"I’m not trying to kill you, Ollie."

"Too late," Ollie whispered faintly.

Kyle chuckled—low, amused, and completely unfazed.

He just leaned back against the bedpost and said, "You’ve got time. I don’t expect an answer right away."

To which Ollie whimpered, because right now he couldn’t even breathe properly.

And Kyle, with all the patience in the world, just passed him a water bottle, a small cooling pad, and waited for his mechanic to finish combusting.

Because really, at this point?

It was a full-blown meltdown, and Kyle found every second of it utterly worth it.

He wasn’t asking for his feelings and sentiments to be returned. And while he wished for that, his actual goal was awareness.

All he wanted was to enter this guy’s malfunctioning radar. Because if he could get his foot in the door, then only then would he have a shot at this.

But Ollie wasn’t as lucid; his mind, heart, and soul were trying to operate separately as they all struggled to make sense of what had just happened.

More accurately, he hovered in a state of spiritual confusion. His fingers twitched. His legs itched to pace. His brain pinged system errors every few seconds.

He didn’t know what to do next. He’d called Kyle to ask for his help, but didn’t expect to hear those words.

Was he just kidding?

Was this a prank?

But to his shock, just as the bleeding stopped and he was peeling away the now thoroughly used tissue, a strong arm looped around his waist, pulling him flush against that hard chest he’s been so familiar with.

"Wha—?!"

Ollie froze.

He might’ve gasped, but all that came out was air.

And then—

Thump.

Thump-thump.

His cheek was pressed right above Kyle’s sternum. That was not a normal heartbeat. That was not the calm, collected Kyle he knew.

No.

That was—

Thump-thump-thump-thump.

A thunderstorm.

A pulse frantic enough to rattle bones.

And just like that...somehow it answered the question he hadn’t dared ask.

He wasn’t kidding.

Kyle wasn’t teasing.

He couldn’t possibly be kidding with a heartbeat like that.

"K-Kyle?" Ollie whispered.

"Yeah?"

"How...how is this possible?"

Kyle tilted his head.

"What do you mean?"

"I thought we were like...brothers. Like family?" Ollie said, his voice small.

Kyle didn’t answer right away.

He went quiet for half a beat. Then, calm and steady, he asked:

"Would you be fine doing the same things with the others that you do with me?"

Ollie blinked, confused.

So Kyle continued, gently but firmly.

"Would you call them every day? Cry on their shoulder? Let them carry you out of danger—or just carry you around so your legs don’t get tired?"

"Or perhaps share the same bed? Snuggle against them when you sleep? Eat from the same plate? Drink from the same cup? What about sitting on their laps, and maybe promising to delay their family planning to wait for you?"

He pulled the mop in a little closer.

"Would you let them hold you like this, just because it made you feel safe?"

"Maybe you can do all that with Luca," Kyle added. "He’s your good brother, right?"

"But he’s married," muttered the choked-up blonde.

"Yes. But if you’re doing this with me because I’m your brother, then shouldn’t you be doing it with him, too?"

Ollie stared, speechless.

Kyle didn’t let up.

"What about Jax? The Captain? The others? They’re family too. So why not them?"

"I—" Ollie opened his mouth, then shut it again.

Because the answer was clear.

Loud and clear.

He flushed red.

Not just red—crimson. From his ears to his collarbones, like his entire body was undergoing some kind of combustion.

Was he transforming? Melting? Becoming steam?

Who knew.

He tried to speak.

Tried to breathe.

But before he could even manage a syllable, Kyle gently stopped him.

A warm hand pressed against Ollie’s cheek, steady and firm.

"No need to jump the gun," Kyle said, voice low. "You’re rightfully overwhelmed. I get it."

He looked calm. Too calm for someone who just dropped an emotional asteroid.

"I’m not asking you to respond tonight," he added. "I’m just starting. All I want is for you to understand where I’m coming from."

Kyle’s hand didn’t move. But his voice softened.

"I’m not giving up my dessert tonight just because I’m nice."

Ollie blinked.

"I’m doing it because I like you."

The words hit harder the second time.

"I’m not delivering a few of your things because I’m considerate, but because these would remind you of what we share."

"And I didn’t come here just because I’m a good friend."

His gaze met Ollie’s, direct and unflinching.

"I came because I wanted to see for myself which competitor dared to try their luck with you."

Ollie choked.

Kyle flashed a lopsided smile, all mischief and charm.

"But most of all," Kyle said, voice dropping slightly, "I’m not saying all this just to be honest."

"I’m saying it because I want you to think of me. Tonight, tomorrow. Every waking day. If possible."

He leaned in just a bit closer.

"Just like you were going to think about whoever sent that box."

"I want to be the one taking up space in your head..."

"Occupy your thoughts."

Ollie’s brain promptly exploded.

So, Kyle finished:

"So no, I don’t need your answer today."

He tucked a strand of blonde hair behind Ollie’s ear with quiet care.

"I just needed you to know..."

And with that, Kyle leaned back. Calm. Collected. Determined.

"I’m no good boy. So, please feel free to miss me."