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Beloved By Four

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Chapter 2: One Bed, Four Boys

CHAPTER TWO: One Bed, Four Boyfriends, and a Whole Lotta Trouble

Elvis Sonata’s dorm room was small.

Not just “cozy” small, or “just-for-one-person” small. It was mouse hole small.

A tiny bed by the window. A desk covered in pastel stationery. A single dresser.

And right now?

Four enormous, muscular, dangerously-in-love upperclassmen.

And one trembling, flushed boy who looked ready to evaporate from embarrassment.

“So…” Jake said, scratching the back of his head, eyes darting between the bed and the floor. “Who’s, um… y’know… sleeping with snugglebug—uh, I mean, Elvis?”

Thompson snorted. “Sleeping? I’m not letting him out of my arms tonight. Period.” He cracked his knuckles, then pointed at the rest. “You three can rot in the hallway.”

“Excuse me?” Lucas arched a brow and slowly rolled up his sleeves. “You think that ridiculous leather jacket makes you a priority?”

August crossed his arms, adjusting his glasses with that terrifyingly calm stare. “We’re not animals. We’ll rotate, like civilized—”

“I WANT THE FIRST TURN!!” Jake shouted, arms flailing. “I brought the plushie!”

“Which he’s using as a pillow, not a boyfriend,” Thompson growled.

“I have tea service set up on his desk,” Lucas said, smug. “Complete with chamomile, lavender, and homemade lemon cookies—baked by my personal chef.”

“...”

All eyes turned to August, who silently held up a hand-drawn diagram of body positions that allowed four people to sleep on a single bed.

“…It’s labeled,” he added flatly. “With color-coded weight distribution.”

Elvis made a noise somewhere between a squeak and a sob.

“C-Can’t you just… all take turns?? I-I can lie in the middle—”

“NO,” all four said at once.

The room trembled.

---

Ten Minutes Later

After intense negotiation (which included one pillow fight, Thompson nearly knocking over Elvis’s fish tank, and Jake dramatically crying into a towel), the “bed sharing” compromise was reached.

Lucas got to hold Elvis from behind, acting like a warm, muscular backrest.

Jake snuggled up front, his head on Elvis’s chest like a golden retriever.

Thompson got Elvis’s legs and clung to them like his life depended on it.

August… reluctantly perched on the edge of the bed with one hand brushing Elvis’s hair. (“This is temporary,” he muttered.)

Elvis?

Couldn’t move. At all.

“W-What if I need to pee…?” he whimpered.

“We’ll carry you,” Jake mumbled sleepily.

“No way you’re carrying him alone,” Thompson growled.

“I’ll go with you,” Lucas said.

“I’ll hold the door,” August offered.

“I—THAT’S NOT THE POINT!!” Elvis cried, kicking weakly under the pile of limbs.

---

Two Hours Later

The room was quiet. Moonlight fell across the tangle of bodies on the bed.

Lucas’s arms wrapped tightly around Elvis, his breath slow and steady against his neck.

Jake drooled a little on Elvis’s sweater, mumbling, “Snnnugglebuuuug…”

Thompson muttered something obscene in his sleep before kissing Elvis’s shin.

August… wasn’t asleep at all. He was watching Elvis quietly, fingers tracing patterns in his white hair.

And Elvis?

Heart pounding, cheeks pink, eyes wide open.

“…I’m gonna die like this,” he whispered to the ceiling.

But when Jake snored and nuzzled closer, and Lucas gently kissed his cheek, and August whispered, “Elvy…” in his ear—Elvis smiled.

Just a little.

---

The morning sun peeked through the window, golden and warm. Elvis, still in his soft pajamas, rubbed his eyes and stretched in the middle of a love pile. “Mmm… I-I was thinking… maybe we could… go on a date today…? J-Just one-on-one…”

Dead silence.

Four pairs of eyes snapped open.

“…He means with me,” Lucas said smoothly, brushing Elvis’s bangs aside and kissing his forehead. “I already have a reservation booked. We’ll be having brunch in the greenhouse cafe downtown—”

“THE HELL YOU ARE!” Thompson roared, already half-sitting up, hair wild. “This is my bike’s day off. I was gonna take my sweet little angel for a ride—just us, the wind, and my arms around his waist.”

“I have snacks packed!” Jake chirped from the floor, waving a bulging lunch bag. “And a blanket! And a list of cute things to say in case I forget how to flirt again!”

August stood slowly, calmly pulling out a sheet of paper from his backpack. “Here is a ranked itinerary of dates, alphabetically sorted by intimacy level. Number 4B is the museum and book cafe tour. Educational, meaningful, romantic.”

Elvis’s lips trembled.

“…Y-You guys…”

“WE’RE DECIDING IT RIGHT NOW,” Lucas declared.

Jake’s eyes widened. “Are we arm wrestling??”

Thompson smirked. “Pillow fight. Winner takes the boy.”

“Let’s make it fair,” August adjusted his glasses. “Three rounds. One physical, one mental, one psychological warfare.”

“HUH!?” Jake blinked. “Wait. What’s the last one?”

---

ROUND ONE: PILLOW FIGHT

Location: Elvis’s Dorm Room. Arena: Bed.

“GO!!” Elvis squeaked from the corner, clutching a blanket.

Lucas swung first, graceful and deadly, like a knight with a silken sword. Jake ducked, tripped over Thompson, and flailed his pillow straight into August’s face.

“Unacceptable,” August muttered, then launched a perfect spiral into Jake’s chest.

Thompson—laughing maniacally—grabbed two pillows, dual-wielding them like war hammers. “I’LL BURY YOU ALL!!”

“AHH!!” Jake screeched, crawling across the bed. “Truce! TRUUUUCE!”

Lucas tackled Thompson. August calmly took the opportunity to scoop Elvis into a corner behind a pile of laundry.

“…Are you okay?” he whispered, caressing Elvis’s cheek.

“I-I think my soul just left my body,” Elvis replied, blinking.

---

ROUND TWO: MIND GAMES

Location: The Desk.

Each contestant had to answer a trivia question about Elvis.

Lucas stood confidently. “His favorite tea is vanilla lavender. His least favorite color is orange. He was born at exactly 4:07 a.m. and sneezes like a kitten.”

Thompson rolled his eyes. “His second toe is longer than his big toe. He hiccups when he’s nervous. And he said ‘I love you’ to my elbow once while half-asleep.”

Jake raised his hand. “He has a mole shaped like a bean on his left hip! I saw it when he wore those little pajama shorts!”

“…That’s cheating,” Elvis whispered.

August simply held up a notebook titled Everything About Elvis: Year One to Present.

“Disqualified,” Thompson snarled.

---

ROUND THREE: PSYCHOLOGICAL WARFARE

Location: Nowhere. It was already happening.

Lucas stared down August.

Thompson towered over Jake.

Jake—trembling—clutched his lunchbox like a shield.

August only looked at Elvis. “If you were the moon,” he said softly, “I’d go blind staring at you every night.”

Lucas scoffed. “You’re not even trying.”