Help! I Became A Guy In A BL Novel!

"You should rest."

"Oh, come on," Riven insisted, circling around the desk to loom over him. "It'll be an hour at most. I'll be perfectly fine."

Ronan's jaw tensed. "It will take longer."

"How much longer?"

"…It will take…" Ronan hesitated. Truth be told, the meeting would take an hour at best—but there was no way he'd admit that. Not when the idea of Raphael's golden gaze landing on Riven—his Riven—made him feel murderous. "…Well into midnight."

Riven blinked again, slowly realising he'd won. He watched Ronan's frown deepen, watched the flicker of annoyance cross his handsome face.

"Midnight, really?" he asked innocently.

"Yes," Ronan he said firmly, but at the same time sounded uncertain.

"…So you're saying I'd be stuck sitting there until then?"

"Yes."

"Oh. Well…fine, then," Riven said, trying not to grin. "I suppose I'll stay here."

Ronan looked momentarily pleased with himself for having so decisively shut him down.

Riven only smiled wider.

Step two: complete.

He trailed after Ronan to the entry hall to see him off. As the towering Alpha fastened his cloak, Riven stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek—just to sell the illusion that he was sad to be left behind.

"Be safe," he murmured, touching his arm in a show of tenderness.

Ronan softened, brushing his thumb across Riven's jaw. "…Stay in bed, don't run around."

"Of course."

The door shut behind him.

Riven let out a triumphant sigh and pivoted on his heel.

"Time to drink," he announced to no one, tail flicking gleefully behind him.

He padded down the hall to the kitchen, where Eli had hidden the bottle he'd promised—tucked behind the row of herbal jars so no one would stumble on it.

For a moment, he just held it in his hands.

He deserved this.

Eli had insisted on using small glasses, claiming he'd keep the bottle locked away after they'd shared a single drink. Riven hadn't argued—he knew better than to spook the poor man before the first sip even touched his tongue.

The fire crackled between them, throwing a soft glow over Eli's pale skin and making his pink eyes shimmer.

Riven tipped his glass in salute. "To… Ah… Whatever this is."

"What a toast..." Eli chuckled.

He took a swallow. Eli followed suit. Eli, however, took it all in one go.

"Lightweight," Riven teased.

Eli tried to glare but succeeded only in looking like a shy rabbit. "I don't usually drink."

"I can tell."

Riven set his glass on the table, letting his head fall back against the chair. For a few blissful seconds, the heaviness in his chest eased. The memories—the dungeon, the shrill echoes of his father's laughter—felt duller, less sharp.

He exhaled.

"I confronted him," he said, voice low.

Eli blinked, glass halfway to his mouth, only to realise it was empty... He looked so cute when disappointed.

"My father," Riven clarified. He didn't offer details, he was not drunk enough yet, but Eli seemed to understand.

They fell quiet, each lost in their own thoughts. Riven's gaze drifted to the window, where night pressed close against the glass, as if listening in.

"He sucks, you know," Riven said suddenly. His words slurred just a fraction, but he didn't care. "He tried to emotionally blackmail me. He thought he could dangle my mother in front of me, like a prize or something. But I'm too smart for that. I'll find her myself."

Eli didn't reply right away. Instead, he sipped carefully, his pink eyes wide, glass trembling just slightly in his grip.

"You have Ronan and Soren to help," he said softly.

Riven looked over. Eli was flushed all the way to the tips of his ears now, the pink of his cheeks so vivid it was almost embarrassing to look at directly. He looked so painfully earnest.

"I know," Riven admitted. He turned the glass in his hands, watching the last golden swirl of liquid catch the firelight. "But… This is one thing I need to do on my own. It feels like… Like something that belongs to me. To the person I was before." Something he had to do for the original Riven.

Eli's gaze dropped. Eli felt jealous. He wished he could help Riven at the moment. He hiccuped once before resuming his thoughts, but unfortunately, he was just a healer, he didn't have the power or the network to find such information.

Eli sputtered and set his glass down, and Riven laughed—actually laughed, shoulders shaking. He hadn't realised how much he needed to.

They were quiet again, crackling of the fire filling in the spaces between them.

Riven's gaze fell to the bottle. Eli was clearly drunk—he'd had a glass and was already pink and blinking too often. It was adorable… And convenient.

Maybe he could sneak one more pour without Eli noticing.

Carefully, he reached across the low table. His fingertips brushed the bottle's neck and a firm hand closed around his wrist.

Riven blinked, surprised at the strength in that grip.

Eli was standing, cheeks red, pink eyes bright and just a little unfocused, but his hold didn't waver.

"You promised," Eli said. His voice was very small. Very stern.

Riven tilted his head, expression caught somewhere between a smirk and a pout. "I did no such thing."

"You did," Eli insisted, his words slurring just slightly. "You said, 'Promise,' and I said, 'One glass.'"

Riven's ears flicked, betraying his amusement. "You're drunk."

Eli's grip on Riven's wrist didn't ease. If anything, it tightened, fingertips pressing just enough to remind Riven that, despite his blush and the soft tremble of his voice, Eli wasn't backing down.

Riven lifted an eyebrow, surprised and maybe a little intrigued, by the uncharacteristic boldness.

"Eli," he drawled, voice low and amused. "You're still holding my hand."

Eli didn't seem to hear him. He took a slow step closer, and the room seemed to shrink around them. The firelight flickered across the planes of his delicate face, highlighting the flush that spread all the way to the tips of his ears.