Fic: Zugunruhe
Title: Zugunruhe
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Peter, Sylar/Peter/Mohinder, Peter/Nathan (implied)
Genre: semi - PWP smut, AU, angst
Spoilers: The whole season
Warnings: Graphic m/m sex, swearing, and Sylar being his usual twisted self
Word Count: 3,689
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, nor these pretty, pretty men (tear)
Summary: When Sylar and Mohinder take their leave, Peter follows.
A/N: This is projected to take place about half a year after the S2 premiere. Sylar has teamed up with the Heroes but is obviously still a threat. Pretend with me that Peter still doesn't know about Sylar's super hearing and therefore does not absorb it. Finally, Peter picked up Meredith's ability and isn't using Ted's power. Because radiation would just ruin the mood... and the sex.
Zugunruhe
“...A pull of the soul to a far-off place. Following a scent in the wind, a star in the sky. The ancient message comes, calling the kindred to take flight and gather together. Only then can they hope to survive the cruel season to come...."
- Mohinder Suresh, Hiros
“Well, at the risk of sounding cliché, I think we just saved the world again.”
Peter nodded. He held his brother at arm’s length; Nathan was looking down at his neck again. He really shouldn’t have been doing that, not with everyone around… but he was anyway.
“Yeah,” Peter replied stoically.
“Let’s get him wrapped up,” he said of Parkman, who was lying lifelessly on the ground. Niki and Bennet were crouched beside him, the last people Peter ever thought he would see tearing up.
Except for…
“Hold on a second,” Peter held his hand up as Hiro began to pass by - his hand immediately went to the sword at his back.
Forearm still raised, Peter opened his mind, trying to separate all of the whispering thoughts.
Hiro and the others looked around, and their eyes widened in fear.
They understood.
“He’s gone,” Hiro said slowly; without waiting a second longer, Peter shut his eyes and vanished from the rooftop.
When he found himself at the center of Mohinder’s apartment, he honestly didn’t think that he would find them there. He had made a snap decision, and it was a lucky shot, but he had to be careful nonetheless.
He made himself invisible as he crept toward the bedroom, in which the echoing “voices“ were coming from.
` Can’t stay…..Have to leave…
what if they find us?
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
oh, not that shirt.
Peter peered through the half-open door, not daring to touch it. Mohinder was throwing his things into a suitcase. Sylar was standing watch at the window, looking for possible flying men. He turned around to face the doorway, and then Peter was looking directly into Sylar’s eyes
He ceased all form of movement, and held his breath.
Sylar turned his attention toward Mohinder. “We’ve been here too long. Let’s go.”
The expression on Mohinder’s face was grim; he looked as though he dreaded closing the suitcase. Sylar raised two fingers, and then flicked them downward. The suitcase snapped itself shut, and Mohinder jumped.
“Fine,” he said, picking it up by the handle and making for the door.
“Not that way,” Sylar murmured, gesturing for Mohinder to go to him.
Mohinder stopped, and looked toward the window.
“Oh, no…” he started. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s dark out,” Sylar countered. “No one will see us. I promise.”
Peter shifted onto his other foot. He could reach out right now; with a flick of his wrist he could send Sylar out the window. It would give him enough time to get away with Mohinder.
He could….
“Mohinder.” Sylar stretched out his arm, and Mohinder sighed.
Sylar’s eyes narrowed
does he trust me
slightly, and Peter didn't move.
Mohinder went over to where Sylar was standing. Sylar went out the window first, and Peter watched his upper torso remain in the air, floating, as Mohinder awkwardly climbed out after him, clutching onto his belongings the whole time.
Sylar grasped the professor’s arms in his, keeping him steady.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and Mohinder shut his eyes tightly.
“No,” he replied, and they began their slow descent.
Peter got one last thought from Suresh as they left.
He teleported back to the Deveaux building, where everyone was waiting for him.
Zurich, Switzerland
Sylar was fucking Mohinder on his side, his right hand wrapped around Mohinder’s cock. Mohinder’s breathing was shallow and slow, his eyes closed in ecstasy.
And in guilt.
Peter could relate to that.
He watched them both from behind, standing at the door. He looked at them, naked and breathless and entwined on top of the sheets. Sylar’s narrow back was illuminated by the tiny lamp on the bed stand; the rest of the room was cast in the dark.
Peter’s arms were folded, but he couldn’t deny his own arousal.
Sylar’s left arm was curled loosely around Mohinder’s neck in a possessive grip. His thrusts were slow, but Peter could tell that Mohinder liked it that way. How Sylar would pull almost all the way out, then gradually let himself back in again.
Peter drank in their uninhibited moans and grunts, and the periodic, soft smack of Sylar’s pelvis against Mohinder’s ass.
Sylar was breathing harsh into the nape of Mohinder’s neck, and
are you getting hard over there, pete?
Peter almost stumbled into visibility. His arms dropped to their sides, and he fought back the impulse to teleport out of there.
Sylar turned his head around to look at Peter. He pushed himself into Mohinder again, and he smiled - looking feral and perfect all at the same time in the low, warm lighting.
you let us go because you wanted to come, didn’t you?
Peter didn’t say anything.
you knew where we were going to go. you knew.
That was Peter’s mistake. He realized it just then, as a shiver snaked down his back. He should have known that Sylar would have noticed him, sooner or later.
On the other hand, at least Sylar wasn’t TK-ing him through the wall.
Peter drew closer to them, unable to help himself.
i know where you are. don’t come closer. not now…
Sylar didn’t take his eyes off of where Peter was standing.
you like watching us, peter? i knew you would. otherwise you wouldn’t have followed us all this way…
“Sylar…” Mohinder gasped, pleading.
He began to quicken his pace slightly in response. Mohinder was breathing so heavily that Peter could hardly make out what he said next:
“Don’t… want….. people to hear…”
Sylar twisted his arm upwards so that his hand covered Mohinder’s mouth. He turned away from Peter, leaning his face down towards the edge of Mohinder’s jaw as he continued to thrust.
Peter watched Sylar whisper something into Mohinder’s ear. He couldn’t hear what it was.
But he heard Mohinder’s muffled scream as he came in Sylar’s hand.
Detroit, Michigan
“You’re not as tight as Mohinder was,” Sylar observed as he made his way inside Peter. He was much less gentle here than he was with the professor.
Peter’s face was planted in the pillow, his breathing checked but not totally canceled out.
Sylar held Peter’s head down with his mind, multi-tasking as he gripped onto Peter’s hips. His nails dug into soft, pale skin.
“No blood, either. Mohinder was embarrassed about that. I wasn’t…ahhhh…. He was my first, as well.
"Who was yours, Pete?”
Peter groaned. He clutched at himself, hard as a stone. He knew what was coming next.
“I think I have an idea. That one time we were ….planning. Oh, he thought he was being so secretive with you.” Sylar jerked forcefully into Peter as an emphasis to the word.
“And I thought Mohinder was the obvious one.”
Peter turned his head an inch to the right, but Sylar moved his face back to where it was.
“How much more twisted can you get, Petrelli?” Sylar laughed in a low, grating tone. “I mean, Mohinder and I have issues… but really, your own brother…”
Peter tried to control his breathing, but it was too late now. He clenched his teeth together anyway.
“How does it feel when he fucks you, I wonder?” Sylar murmured, his breathing uneven and shallow. “Does it feel good? Hmmm? Does it make you feel validated, in his eyes?”
….or do you just revel in always being somebody’s bitch?
He pulled out, then. Peter grasped at the sheets with his free hand, his knuckles popping out.
Sylar loosened his hold on the back of Peter’s head. Peter spluttered as he raised himself up a little, the soft material beneath him wet with tears and saliva. His orgasm lay spent on the sheet below - he didn’t think he’d come so fast.
“Personally, I think it’s a little bit of both,” Sylar surmised over Peter’s wretched gasps.
Then, without any warning, he slammed the entire length of his cock into Peter.
Sylar reached his peak as Peter shrieked into the pillow.
Mohinder was still gone, long after Peter and Sylar had finished. The air between them hung steady; not quite comfortable, and yet not completely tense.
Peter had pulled his pants back on; Sylar lay next to him in the nude. He stared at Peter, his expression inscrutable.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Peter warned.
Sylar laughed in return, but it was only a slight chuckle.
“He’s been away for awhile, now.” Peter said, his throat clicking as he swallowed.
“I know.” Sylar didn’t look at all worried. “I trust him.”
Peter believed him.
“You want to wait for him, don’t you?” Sylar asked, and Peter looked away.
“I’m leaving,” he started, and was about to get up when Sylar moved to grab his arm.
don’t.
Peter looked back down at Sylar, then, and saw him, really saw him for what he was, what he dreaded being.
Lonely.
He didn’t want to be left alone, left with what he used to be.
Peter briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss Sylar, and the naked man let go of him quickly.
“Well, if you really want to, that’s fine with me.” The shine from Sylar’s eyes was gone, replaced by a forced apathy. “I think Mohinder will be disappointed, though.”
Peter stopped, and settled himself back onto the bed. They were both lying on their sides then, facing each other. It was almost like when Peter and Nathan would talk… afterwards, except that they didn’t touch each other.
They simply lay, in wait.
“’Disappointed’?” Peter asked.
Sylar didn’t answer right away. Finally: “He’s always thought so much of you.” Then, after a cautious pause, he added, “I have to admit, it made me jealous at times.”
Peter decided to change the subject.
“When did you realize…” he started, surprising even himself. The sheet that had fallen onto the floor dragged itself upwards to cover Sylar’s pale, exposed flesh.
There was a hint of something then, something vaguely snapping into place. That word, what was it called, you could only say it in French…
Sylar sighed, and, after a moment:
“I always have, just like you.” Sylar raised his eyes to match Peter’s gaze. “We’re not all that different, really. We both need someone to ground us.”
Peter blinked at the accuracy of this, but Sylar had averted his eyes to Peter’s bare shoulders, and continued talking.
“When I first met Mohinder, I wasn’t sure what to think. I was caught off guard, and it had been a …. long time since I felt like that. I didn’t think much of it back then, but now I know… that feeling, when he’d look at me….”
“Love?”
Again, Sylar laughed. “No, not right away. But it was something like it….”
Peter nodded.
Sylar propped himself up on one elbow and languidly began to trace circles on the sheets.
There it was; a brief flash, back to four weeks ago. Back to the charcoal sketch of this exact moment, and how Peter had burned it in his hands. He remembered how scared he had felt then, and yet how curious.
After a minute of silence passed by, Sylar looked up. His finger had stopped moving.
“Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“If I ever find out you’re leading them to us, I’ll melt your insides first.”
Peter paused, looking into those cold, honest eyes. Then his gaze shifted over to the window behind Sylar’s head, where the blinds were drawn shut and the light seeped in through the cracks.
“Fair enough,” he replied, his voice hollow and flat.
When Mohinder came back, he stopped upon seeing Peter, asleep on the unkempt bed. Sylar was sitting on a chair; watching TV for the first time since they arrived at the motel, looking bored out of his mind.
Mohinder set a brown paper bag down on the table next to the door.
“I pulled out all the money, and I brought some food” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving Peter. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
“It’s no big deal,” Sylar said off-handedly from the chair. Peter stirred, and Mohinder cleared his throat.
“May I ask what the hell is Peter doing here?”
Sylar shrugged. “He wanted to come.”
“What about Nathan?”
Sylar slowly turned his head away from the television to look at Mohinder, who was still standing at the door, gaping.
“That didn’t sound too eager,” Sylar’s lips began to curl upward.
“You know what I meant,” Mohinder chided.
“I guess he wanted to try something new.”
As Sylar channel-surfed, the professor went over to Peter, whose hair had almost fully grown out and was covering half of his face. Mohinder gently put his arm on Peter’s, and shook him awake.
Peter opened his eyes to Mohinder’s wide, surprised ones.
He listened for any clues. He was expecting Mohinder to think “Help me”, but instead, all he got was:
Now we’re all in this together.
And then Peter noticed Sylar sitting between the bed and the wall, with his long, long legs folded underneath himself in the chair.
He breathed, watching the back of Sylar’s head for any response. He received none.
Mohinder reached out to touch Peter’s face, to draw him into a wordless kiss, and as Peter tore his eyes away from Sylar, he heard:
just remember that he’ll always be mine.
One month later, they all shared each other for the first time.
Part 2
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Sylar/Mohinder, Sylar/Peter, Sylar/Peter/Mohinder, Peter/Nathan (implied)
Genre: semi - PWP smut, AU, angst
Spoilers: The whole season
Warnings: Graphic m/m sex, swearing, and Sylar being his usual twisted self
Word Count: 3,689
Disclaimer: I don't own Heroes, nor these pretty, pretty men (tear)
Summary: When Sylar and Mohinder take their leave, Peter follows.
A/N: This is projected to take place about half a year after the S2 premiere. Sylar has teamed up with the Heroes but is obviously still a threat. Pretend with me that Peter still doesn't know about Sylar's super hearing and therefore does not absorb it. Finally, Peter picked up Meredith's ability and isn't using Ted's power. Because radiation would just ruin the mood... and the sex.
Zugunruhe
“...A pull of the soul to a far-off place. Following a scent in the wind, a star in the sky. The ancient message comes, calling the kindred to take flight and gather together. Only then can they hope to survive the cruel season to come...."
- Mohinder Suresh, Hiros
“Well, at the risk of sounding cliché, I think we just saved the world again.”
Peter nodded. He held his brother at arm’s length; Nathan was looking down at his neck again. He really shouldn’t have been doing that, not with everyone around… but he was anyway.
“Yeah,” Peter replied stoically.
“Let’s get him wrapped up,” he said of Parkman, who was lying lifelessly on the ground. Niki and Bennet were crouched beside him, the last people Peter ever thought he would see tearing up.
Except for…
“Hold on a second,” Peter held his hand up as Hiro began to pass by - his hand immediately went to the sword at his back.
Forearm still raised, Peter opened his mind, trying to separate all of the whispering thoughts.
Hiro and the others looked around, and their eyes widened in fear.
They understood.
“He’s gone,” Hiro said slowly; without waiting a second longer, Peter shut his eyes and vanished from the rooftop.
When he found himself at the center of Mohinder’s apartment, he honestly didn’t think that he would find them there. He had made a snap decision, and it was a lucky shot, but he had to be careful nonetheless.
He made himself invisible as he crept toward the bedroom, in which the echoing “voices“ were coming from.
` Can’t stay…..Have to leave…
what if they find us?
I can’t believe I’m doing this.
oh, not that shirt.
Peter peered through the half-open door, not daring to touch it. Mohinder was throwing his things into a suitcase. Sylar was standing watch at the window, looking for possible flying men. He turned around to face the doorway, and then Peter was looking directly into Sylar’s eyes
He ceased all form of movement, and held his breath.
Sylar turned his attention toward Mohinder. “We’ve been here too long. Let’s go.”
The expression on Mohinder’s face was grim; he looked as though he dreaded closing the suitcase. Sylar raised two fingers, and then flicked them downward. The suitcase snapped itself shut, and Mohinder jumped.
“Fine,” he said, picking it up by the handle and making for the door.
“Not that way,” Sylar murmured, gesturing for Mohinder to go to him.
Mohinder stopped, and looked toward the window.
“Oh, no…” he started. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s dark out,” Sylar countered. “No one will see us. I promise.”
Peter shifted onto his other foot. He could reach out right now; with a flick of his wrist he could send Sylar out the window. It would give him enough time to get away with Mohinder.
He could….
“Mohinder.” Sylar stretched out his arm, and Mohinder sighed.
Sylar’s eyes narrowed
does he trust me
slightly, and Peter didn't move.
Mohinder went over to where Sylar was standing. Sylar went out the window first, and Peter watched his upper torso remain in the air, floating, as Mohinder awkwardly climbed out after him, clutching onto his belongings the whole time.
Sylar grasped the professor’s arms in his, keeping him steady.
“Are you ready?” he asked, and Mohinder shut his eyes tightly.
“No,” he replied, and they began their slow descent.
Peter got one last thought from Suresh as they left.
He teleported back to the Deveaux building, where everyone was waiting for him.
Zurich, Switzerland
Sylar was fucking Mohinder on his side, his right hand wrapped around Mohinder’s cock. Mohinder’s breathing was shallow and slow, his eyes closed in ecstasy.
And in guilt.
Peter could relate to that.
He watched them both from behind, standing at the door. He looked at them, naked and breathless and entwined on top of the sheets. Sylar’s narrow back was illuminated by the tiny lamp on the bed stand; the rest of the room was cast in the dark.
Peter’s arms were folded, but he couldn’t deny his own arousal.
Sylar’s left arm was curled loosely around Mohinder’s neck in a possessive grip. His thrusts were slow, but Peter could tell that Mohinder liked it that way. How Sylar would pull almost all the way out, then gradually let himself back in again.
Peter drank in their uninhibited moans and grunts, and the periodic, soft smack of Sylar’s pelvis against Mohinder’s ass.
Sylar was breathing harsh into the nape of Mohinder’s neck, and
are you getting hard over there, pete?
Peter almost stumbled into visibility. His arms dropped to their sides, and he fought back the impulse to teleport out of there.
Sylar turned his head around to look at Peter. He pushed himself into Mohinder again, and he smiled - looking feral and perfect all at the same time in the low, warm lighting.
you let us go because you wanted to come, didn’t you?
Peter didn’t say anything.
you knew where we were going to go. you knew.
That was Peter’s mistake. He realized it just then, as a shiver snaked down his back. He should have known that Sylar would have noticed him, sooner or later.
On the other hand, at least Sylar wasn’t TK-ing him through the wall.
Peter drew closer to them, unable to help himself.
i know where you are. don’t come closer. not now…
Sylar didn’t take his eyes off of where Peter was standing.
you like watching us, peter? i knew you would. otherwise you wouldn’t have followed us all this way…
“Sylar…” Mohinder gasped, pleading.
He began to quicken his pace slightly in response. Mohinder was breathing so heavily that Peter could hardly make out what he said next:
“Don’t… want….. people to hear…”
Sylar twisted his arm upwards so that his hand covered Mohinder’s mouth. He turned away from Peter, leaning his face down towards the edge of Mohinder’s jaw as he continued to thrust.
Peter watched Sylar whisper something into Mohinder’s ear. He couldn’t hear what it was.
But he heard Mohinder’s muffled scream as he came in Sylar’s hand.
Detroit, Michigan
“You’re not as tight as Mohinder was,” Sylar observed as he made his way inside Peter. He was much less gentle here than he was with the professor.
Peter’s face was planted in the pillow, his breathing checked but not totally canceled out.
Sylar held Peter’s head down with his mind, multi-tasking as he gripped onto Peter’s hips. His nails dug into soft, pale skin.
“No blood, either. Mohinder was embarrassed about that. I wasn’t…ahhhh…. He was my first, as well.
"Who was yours, Pete?”
Peter groaned. He clutched at himself, hard as a stone. He knew what was coming next.
“I think I have an idea. That one time we were ….planning. Oh, he thought he was being so secretive with you.” Sylar jerked forcefully into Peter as an emphasis to the word.
“And I thought Mohinder was the obvious one.”
Peter turned his head an inch to the right, but Sylar moved his face back to where it was.
“How much more twisted can you get, Petrelli?” Sylar laughed in a low, grating tone. “I mean, Mohinder and I have issues… but really, your own brother…”
Peter tried to control his breathing, but it was too late now. He clenched his teeth together anyway.
“How does it feel when he fucks you, I wonder?” Sylar murmured, his breathing uneven and shallow. “Does it feel good? Hmmm? Does it make you feel validated, in his eyes?”
….or do you just revel in always being somebody’s bitch?
He pulled out, then. Peter grasped at the sheets with his free hand, his knuckles popping out.
Sylar loosened his hold on the back of Peter’s head. Peter spluttered as he raised himself up a little, the soft material beneath him wet with tears and saliva. His orgasm lay spent on the sheet below - he didn’t think he’d come so fast.
“Personally, I think it’s a little bit of both,” Sylar surmised over Peter’s wretched gasps.
Then, without any warning, he slammed the entire length of his cock into Peter.
Sylar reached his peak as Peter shrieked into the pillow.
Mohinder was still gone, long after Peter and Sylar had finished. The air between them hung steady; not quite comfortable, and yet not completely tense.
Peter had pulled his pants back on; Sylar lay next to him in the nude. He stared at Peter, his expression inscrutable.
“Stop looking at me like that,” Peter warned.
Sylar laughed in return, but it was only a slight chuckle.
“He’s been away for awhile, now.” Peter said, his throat clicking as he swallowed.
“I know.” Sylar didn’t look at all worried. “I trust him.”
Peter believed him.
“You want to wait for him, don’t you?” Sylar asked, and Peter looked away.
“I’m leaving,” he started, and was about to get up when Sylar moved to grab his arm.
don’t.
Peter looked back down at Sylar, then, and saw him, really saw him for what he was, what he dreaded being.
Lonely.
He didn’t want to be left alone, left with what he used to be.
Peter briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss Sylar, and the naked man let go of him quickly.
“Well, if you really want to, that’s fine with me.” The shine from Sylar’s eyes was gone, replaced by a forced apathy. “I think Mohinder will be disappointed, though.”
Peter stopped, and settled himself back onto the bed. They were both lying on their sides then, facing each other. It was almost like when Peter and Nathan would talk… afterwards, except that they didn’t touch each other.
They simply lay, in wait.
“’Disappointed’?” Peter asked.
Sylar didn’t answer right away. Finally: “He’s always thought so much of you.” Then, after a cautious pause, he added, “I have to admit, it made me jealous at times.”
Peter decided to change the subject.
“When did you realize…” he started, surprising even himself. The sheet that had fallen onto the floor dragged itself upwards to cover Sylar’s pale, exposed flesh.
There was a hint of something then, something vaguely snapping into place. That word, what was it called, you could only say it in French…
Sylar sighed, and, after a moment:
“I always have, just like you.” Sylar raised his eyes to match Peter’s gaze. “We’re not all that different, really. We both need someone to ground us.”
Peter blinked at the accuracy of this, but Sylar had averted his eyes to Peter’s bare shoulders, and continued talking.
“When I first met Mohinder, I wasn’t sure what to think. I was caught off guard, and it had been a …. long time since I felt like that. I didn’t think much of it back then, but now I know… that feeling, when he’d look at me….”
“Love?”
Again, Sylar laughed. “No, not right away. But it was something like it….”
Peter nodded.
Sylar propped himself up on one elbow and languidly began to trace circles on the sheets.
There it was; a brief flash, back to four weeks ago. Back to the charcoal sketch of this exact moment, and how Peter had burned it in his hands. He remembered how scared he had felt then, and yet how curious.
After a minute of silence passed by, Sylar looked up. His finger had stopped moving.
“Peter?”
“Yeah?”
“If I ever find out you’re leading them to us, I’ll melt your insides first.”
Peter paused, looking into those cold, honest eyes. Then his gaze shifted over to the window behind Sylar’s head, where the blinds were drawn shut and the light seeped in through the cracks.
“Fair enough,” he replied, his voice hollow and flat.
When Mohinder came back, he stopped upon seeing Peter, asleep on the unkempt bed. Sylar was sitting on a chair; watching TV for the first time since they arrived at the motel, looking bored out of his mind.
Mohinder set a brown paper bag down on the table next to the door.
“I pulled out all the money, and I brought some food” he said slowly, his eyes never leaving Peter. “I’m sorry it took so long.”
“It’s no big deal,” Sylar said off-handedly from the chair. Peter stirred, and Mohinder cleared his throat.
“May I ask what the hell is Peter doing here?”
Sylar shrugged. “He wanted to come.”
“What about Nathan?”
Sylar slowly turned his head away from the television to look at Mohinder, who was still standing at the door, gaping.
“That didn’t sound too eager,” Sylar’s lips began to curl upward.
“You know what I meant,” Mohinder chided.
“I guess he wanted to try something new.”
As Sylar channel-surfed, the professor went over to Peter, whose hair had almost fully grown out and was covering half of his face. Mohinder gently put his arm on Peter’s, and shook him awake.
Peter opened his eyes to Mohinder’s wide, surprised ones.
He listened for any clues. He was expecting Mohinder to think “Help me”, but instead, all he got was:
Now we’re all in this together.
And then Peter noticed Sylar sitting between the bed and the wall, with his long, long legs folded underneath himself in the chair.
He breathed, watching the back of Sylar’s head for any response. He received none.
Mohinder reached out to touch Peter’s face, to draw him into a wordless kiss, and as Peter tore his eyes away from Sylar, he heard:
just remember that he’ll always be mine.
One month later, they all shared each other for the first time.
Part 2