CHAPTER 152: HEAD OR TAIL ( LUTHER’S POV )

"So, Jason, what’s your deal?"

"Don’t really want to talk about it."

"Oh, c’mon! We’ll be trapped in this house for three months. Might as well know each other!"

"It’s better this way, Lych. The shallower the relationship, the safer you are."

Lych munched on his pasta loudly.

He flicked his fork in the air, wrist snapping with each motion. Sauce splattered the table.

He shoved another bite into his mouth. The chair scraped as he stood. He grabbed the bowl and turned sharply. Pasta slid over the edge.

He slammed the bowl onto the counter. The fork clattered beside it.

"That’s boring. We don’t have anything fun to do. We can either talk or f-ck."

"Or we can just sit in silence."

"Yeah, sure, I’ll live the next three months living like a corpse."

"I am sorry that I dragged you into this, but there’s only so much I can do."

"Boo!"

Lych froze mid-chew. Eyes narrowed. Fork still raised.

He slowly lowered it, elbow cocked like a judge about to deliver a sentence. One final chew. Loud. Defiant. He swallowed like it hurt his soul.

Then—he sighed. Long. Suffering. He looked at me like I’d personally ruined dinner.

He turned his back, only to spin around dramatically, nearly knocking over his chair. Pointed the fork at the ceiling. Then at the floor. Then at me. His face twisted with disbelief, betrayal, existential pain.

He scooped another bite, chewed it like vengeance, then slammed the bowl down on the table—not hard enough to break, just enough to tremble with judgment.

He walked a slow circle around the table. Arms folded. Pasta forgotten. Occasionally shaking his head like words had failed him centuries ago.

Then he sat. Loudly.

And resumed chewing. Angrily.

"You’re going to get indigestion!"

"Which is still more fun than this!"

"How whiny!"

"Your wife is bored and you don’t even care!

"

"Fine. Fine. One question for one question, but if I think it’s too dangerous for you to know, I won’t answer!"

"Ok, fun police."

Lych leaned back in his chair, arms folded and lips pursed in mock seriousness, barely hiding the smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Why are you being searched by the whole country?"

"Veto!"

"You can’t just use the veto right away! It’s not fun!"

"Don’t pout! How old are you?"

"25. Was the blonde guy your ex?"

"No. How did you end up homeless?"

"I’m not homeless, I’m a free spirit! What’s your real name?"

I tapped my finger on the table, trying to decide whether or not to answer the question.

The room was quiet except for the soft rhythm of my hand. I didn’t want to speak, but I knew he wouldn’t stop asking.

Eventually, he would find out, with or without my help.

I scoffed, frustrated with how predictable everything had become. Avoiding it wouldn’t change the outcome.

The truth was there, sitting in the back of my mind, waiting to be said.

I took a breath, steady and slow, and looked forward. I had made my decision, whether I liked it or not.

"Luther Wilkers."

"Holy mother of Pearl!"

"Are you scared? They say I killed my father!"

"Nah, you’re a softie."

"How would you know that?"

"You’re my husband, idiot!"

Lych said it with so much confidence that I couldn’t help but burst into laughter.

It hit me all at once—loud, sudden, uncontrollable. The more I laughed, the more he stood there, completely still.

Serious.

Unmoved.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t react. Just kept looking at me like he was waiting for me to finish.

That only made it worse. I couldn’t stop. He didn’t even blink.

"Why are you helping me so much, Lych?"

"Didn’t you hear me? You’re my man!"

"No, I really mean it. Why?"

"Don’t know. I’m a sucker for a pretty face I guess."

He shrugged while throating another overfilled fork of pasta.

"You don’t mean that."

"Oh? Are you acting spoiled for me now?"

A slow grin crept across Lych’s face, just enough to show he was pleased with himself.

"Nah. I mean it. We’ve been on the road for all this time and you never made a move on me!"

"Babe, not to shame you or anything for being so open minded, but it’s been like three days."

"Four."

"Exactly."

Hah.

I must have lost my mind. He is right.

I’ve been so stuck with horny idiots who didn’t really care about taking it slow, I forgot how humans usually interact.

"I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m down for action, but it’s rather sudden. We’re not animals!"

"You’re right... Oh my God..."

"Don’t worry that much, I like sloppy bottoms too!"

"What?"

"What?"

A moment of silence hovered while I looked at him.

And he looked at me.

Just staring at each other.

"Why— Why am I the bottom?"

Lych shrugged nonchalantly.

"You’re the omega!"

"I— are you an alpha?"

"Nah, I’m an omega too."

"Then what’s up with that argument?"

"Thought you’d fall for it."

I couldn’t help but be frustrated, sitting there while Lych calmly twirled another bite of pasta onto his fork.

He ate without a care in the world, completely unfazed, as if nothing about the situation required urgency or concern.

His relaxed chewing only made it worse.

Every second he spent focused on his meal felt like a deliberate choice to ignore everything else.

And he knew it was getting to me.

Arrogant brat.

"Why would you think I’ll be the bottom? You’re the wife!"

"We could switch. I don’t mind. Although, I don’t think you will want that. I give pretty good service."

"Me too."

"Fine by me. Shall we toss a coin to see who tops first?"

Full of tomato sauce around his mouth, Lych pulled a coin from his pocket without a hint of concern.

He didn’t bother wiping his face, didn’t even glance at the mess.

The sauce clung to the corners of his lips as he turned the coin over in his fingers, completely focused.

Idiot.

"Head or tail?"