Zero Point One |bl|

Ciro P.O.V.

I lazily made my way to the hospital. My father booked this appointment the second he heard about my condition. I was told to come straight home afterward—no detours.

My head felt like someone was sitting on it. Heavy. Pressurized. Like my skull might crack just from blinking too hard. The worse I felt, the more concerned I became. Each day blurred into the next, and the haze I kept walking through wasn't going away—it was getting worse.

I arrived late in the afternoon. Part of me wanted to ask why my dad scheduled it so late, but I didn't have the energy to sit through one of his lectures.

The hallway was quiet except for the soft echo of my shoes on tile. I was heading toward the room the nurse pointed out when—

Kenan.

He stepped into the hall from the opposite end.

He was walking straight toward me.

At first, I thought I was hallucinating. A fever-dream playing tricks on me.

But then—his scent.

It hit me like a wave.

Kenan's pheromones. The ones I hadn't smelled in days.

Sharp. Familiar. Unfairly overwhelming.

My legs wobbled.

Our eyes met.

And for one stupid second—everything stilled.

He looked just as shocked to see me.

I opened my mouth to say something—anything—but the scent flooded my senses too fast, too strong. My knees buckled, my chest tightened, and everything turned white.

The last thing I heard was his voice—panicked, faint, distant.

"Ciro!"

Darkness swallowed everything.

I woke up in a hospital bed.

My head throbbed like someone had smacked me with a chair. The world swam in and out of focus.

I groaned and blinked a few times, slowly turning my head—

Kenan was there.

Sitting beside the bed.

Silent. Elbows resting on his knees. Hands clasped. Knuckles pale.

His eyes snapped up the moment I stirred.

We stared at each other.

Then I turned away. "What are you doing here?"

"Shouldn't I be hearing a 'thank you' first?" he said smugly.

I whipped back around, glaring. "As if you're not the reason I'm like this."

"Me? How?" he asked, like he was genuinely clueless.

I turned away again, irritation bubbling up. "How? I'll tell you how—" I broke off with a groan, clutching my head.

Ugh. My head.

Before I could continue, the curtain around the bed was pulled aside.

"Kenan, you're disturbing my patient," said a familiar voice.

I looked up.

Isabella.

Kenan's older sister. The same one who'd broken up our fights as kids before they got bloody.

"Ciro, how are you feeling?" she asked.

"My head's just hurting a bit, but I'm fine," I said.

And I was. Mostly. The crushing fatigue I'd been carrying around had lifted more than I expected.

"Good," she nodded. "I need to speak with both of you. Privately. My office."

"Both of us?" I echoed.

"Yes. You and Kenan."

Kenan frowned. "Why?"

"Because I'm pretty sure the state of your pheromones—and Ciro's collapse—are connected."

She turned to me. "Can you walk?"

I nodded, but the moment I tried to sit up, pain flared behind my eyes again. The headache returned sharp and ruthless.

Isabella sighed. "Kenan, help him."

She walked off before either of us could protest.

Kenan stood and held out his hand.

I stared at it in disgust. Still can't control his hormones even when he knows how they affect me. Of course.

Whatever.

I placed my hand in his. It was warm. Too warm. A faint buzz passed between us when I gripped it.

He pulled me up slowly. I stood on shaky legs, the world tilting slightly.

I tried to pull my hand back. "You can let go now," I muttered.

"I was told to help," he replied.

I rolled my eyes but said nothing as he guided me down the hallway.

He didn't let go of my hand the whole way there.

I hated how the warmth crept up my arm—curling around my chest like some stupid comfort I didn't ask for.

We sat across from each other. Isabella perched in front of us, clipboard in hand, her expression too serious for my liking.

"So," she began, tapping her pen. "How long have you two been working on this project together?"

"Last week made five weeks," I said.

"In that time, have you had any… intimate moments?"

I blinked. My brain scanned every possible meaning.

"We kissed a few times," I admitted, glancing at Kenan.

"Not a few," he muttered. "Still countable on one hand."

I rolled my eyes.

"Okay…" Isabella jotted something down. "Any unusual pheromone responses to each other? Anything drastic?"

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "Kenan has no control over his."

"Excuse me?" he snapped. "You're no better—you're the exact same."

"As if I control them," I grumbled.

Isabella raised a hand before we could bicker more. "Ciro, what do you mean by Kenan not having control?"

"I can sense him before I even see him. When he's nearby, it's like his pheromones are always screaming at me."

She turned to Kenan. "Is it the same for you?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

That surprised me.

I never missed a dose. Ever.

Isabella leaned back. "Interesting. I'm picking up both of your pheromones in this room—but only faintly. Yet you two are sensing them strongly."

"What do they feel like to you?" she asked.

I sighed. "Like a pounding, overbearing presence. Intimidating."

"And you, Kenan?"

He shrugged. "It's like an itch. Always there. Kind of… annoying."

"Irritating," I muttered.

Isabella scribbled more notes. "I think your pheromones have formed an attachment. Unknowingly."

"An attachment?" I echoed.

"Yes. When that happens, even if you're trying to suppress them, the attached partner still detects the signals—strongly. For both of you, it's amplifying everything. Your pheromones are pulling each other closer."

I blinked. "So I'm the only one who smells that overwhelming mess because of this attachment?"

"Basically. You're feeling the raw traits he's trying to suppress. And Kenan's experiencing yours—the sweet, enticing ones you're hiding."

No wonder.

"This attachment," I asked, "it just makes everything more intense?"

"Exactly. It removes the usual filters. That's why it feels so… uncontained. It wasn't supposed to leak out like this—unless you're bonded. But you're not. Just attached."

I sat back in my chair. "That's not even the worst part, is it?"

"There's more," she said, sighing. "Pheromone attachment can lead to your cycles syncing."

"Syncing?" we both repeated.

"Your body's signaling emotional compatibility. The next step it wants is physical. Syncing helps push that."

I gawked. "You make it sound like our bodies are trying to set us up."

"They kind of are," Isabella said with a smirk.

Kenan looked away, jaw tight.

I didn't know whether to laugh, yell, or pass out again.

"So," she added, flipping another page, "you two shouldn't stay apart for long. Prolonged distance worsens symptoms—nausea, fatigue, hormone imbalance."

"Well, we figured something was off when Kenan went noseblind," she muttered.

"You went noseblind?" I turned to Kenan in horror.

"It wasn't for long," he muttered.

Isabella sighed. "The vomiting, dizziness… it all tracks. And because you're both dominants, the response is stronger. Volatile. Dominants rarely form attachments, and when they do—it's like striking a match."

Kenan crossed his arms. "So our bodies are just… calling each other back?"

"Exactly. Your systems overcompensate when you're apart. It leaks out, trying to find the other."

I groaned. "So it's like being tethered."

"Exactly," she nodded. "And yes—it could've caused a false heat."

My head snapped up. "Wait—what?"

"You had one?" she asked.

I gave a small nod. "I thought it was just… stress. Or feelings."

Her eyes narrowed. "Was Kenan around when it happened?"

I hesitated. "He was. But it only started after he—" I glared at him. "—pheromone showered me."

Isabella's face dropped. Her stare could have set him on fire.

"You what? Kenan! A pheromone shower? Do you realize what that does when an attachment is already forming?"

He looked away, jaw clenched. "It wasn't on purpose."

"Still," she snapped. "You basically nailed the attachment into place."

I scoffed and didn't bother hiding my glare.

Isabella exhaled slowly. "Look, it's not irreversible. Since you're not bonded, I can prescribe suppressants to dull the effect. It won't erase the connection, but it'll make it more manageable."

She looked between us. "Come back in two weeks. I'll monitor you both."

I let out a long sigh.

Just my luck. Tethered to the one person who can't keep his scent to himself.