My Neighbour Is My Cousin Brother

The kiss Help The Lie To Become White Truth

Chapter Three: The Brand of a King

The iron gates of the university had always felt like a threshold to a better future for Mark. Today, they felt like the bars of a cage.

He had barely stepped onto the cobblestone path of the main quad when the first whisper hit him. It wasn't a quiet whisper; it was the kind of hushed, sharp sound meant to be heard.

"That’s him. The one from the forums."

Mark kept his head down, his grip tightening on the straps of his backpack until his knuckles turned white. He tried to focus on the sound of his own breathing, but the world was encroaching.

By the time he reached his first lecture hall, the digital wildfire had turned into a physical presence. Students who had never spoken to him before were leaning out of windows, pointing. A group of athletes near the cafeteria slowed their pace as he passed, their laughter booming across the lawn.

"Hey, Mark! Is it true?" one of them yelled, a tall guy named Jackson whom Mark had helped with a tutor session once. "Did you really snag a CEO? Or did you just use the family connection to get into his bed?"

The words felt like a physical slap. Mark didn't look up. He couldn't. His face was burning, a deep, hot crimson that felt like it would leave a permanent mark on his skin. He pushed through the heavy oak doors of the Social Sciences building, hoping for the sanctuary of a quiet classroom.

But there was no sanctuary. On the whiteboard at the front of the room, someone had scrawled in thick, black marker: "THE COUSIN COLLECTOR."

Mark stood at the entrance, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. The room went silent. Thirty pairs of eyes fixed on him—some with disgust, some with mocking curiosity, and others with a cruel sort of envy.

"I heard he’s getting a private apartment paid for," a girl in the front row whispered to her friend, loud enough for the whole room to hear. "I guess being 'family' has its perks."

"It’s a lie," Mark said, his voice coming out as a strangled rasp. He cleared his throat, trying to find the dignity he had spent years cultivating. "It’s all a lie. Leo is... he’s just making things up."

A chorus of snickers erupted. "Sure, Mark. The most powerful bachelor in the city just decided to pick you out of thin air to lie about? You’re not that special. You must have done something to hook him."

Mark turned and bolted. He didn't care about the lecture. He didn't care about his attendance record. He ran until he reached the fountain in the center of the campus, his chest heaving. He pulled out his phone, his fingers shaking so hard he almost dropped it. He pulled up his messages with Leo.

Mark: I'm done. I'm telling everyone the truth. I don't care about your money. My life is a living hell because of you. I’m going to the Dean’s office, and then I’m calling the papers. You can’t use me.

He didn't wait for a reply. He started walking toward the administration building, his mind made up. He would suffer the embarrassment of being the "boy who was used," but he would not be the "boy who lied."

He was halfway across the quad when the atmosphere of the campus shifted. It started with a low hum—the sound of a high-performance engine echoing off the stone buildings.

A sleek, obsidian-black Rolls-Royce swept through the campus gates, an area strictly forbidden to unauthorized vehicles. The security guards didn't even try to stop it; the license plate was enough to grant it passage. The car glided to a halt right in front of the fountain, blocking Mark’s path.

The door opened, and the air seemed to still.

Leo stepped out.

He wasn't dressed like a cousin or a neighbor. He was dressed like a god of industry—a charcoal three-piece suit, silk tie, and a cold, predatory confidence that made the surrounding students look like children. He didn't look at the crowd. He didn't look at the cameras that were already being raised.

He looked only at Mark.

"Leo," Mark gasped, taking a step back. "What are you doing here? I told you—"

"You told me you were upset," Leo interrupted, his voice a deep baritone that carried across the silent quad. He walked toward Mark, his stride slow and deliberate. "You told me the pressure was too much. I realized I was selfish to keep our 'love' a secret for so long, Mark. If you’re suffering because people doubt us, then I should fix that."

"No," Mark whispered, his eyes wide. "Leo, stay away. I’m going to tell them. I’m going to tell everyone you're a—"

Leo was suddenly there, closing the distance. He grabbed Mark’s waist with a grip of iron, pulling him flush against his chest. The height difference was staggering, forcing Mark to crane his neck back.

"You want the truth, Mark?" Leo murmured, his breath hot against Mark’s ear, too low for anyone else to hear. "The truth is, I own this narrative. And after this, no one will ever believe a word you say against me."

"Don't—"

Before Mark could finish his protest, Leo leaned down.

It wasn't a gentle kiss. It wasn't a "fake" brush of the lips. It was an invasion. Leo’s mouth crashed against Mark’s with a possessive, terrifying intensity. It was a kiss designed to be seen—a public branding. Leo’s hand moved to the back of Mark’s neck, his fingers tangling in the shorter man’s hair, tilting his head back to ensure every phone camera caught the angle.

The quad erupted.

There were gasps, screams, and the frantic clicking of shutters. Mark’s world narrowed down to the scent of Leo’s expensive woodsmoke cologne and the crushing pressure of the kiss. He tried to push away, his hands flat against Leo’s chest, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

For a few seconds, Mark forgot where he was. He forgot the bullying, the textbooks, and the Dean. There was only the heat of Leo’s mouth and the overwhelming power of the man holding him.

When Leo finally pulled away, he didn't let go. He kept his arm hooked firmly around Mark’s waist, pulling him into his side. He looked out at the sea of students, his eyes cold and triumphant.

"Is there any more confusion?" Leo asked the crowd, his voice echoing with authority. "Mark is mine. If anyone has a problem with his 'reputation,' you can discuss it with my legal team."

He didn't wait for an answer. He practically dragged a stunned, trembling Mark toward the car.

"Get in," Leo commanded, opening the door.

Mark climbed in, his mind completely blank. He felt like he was floating outside of his own body. As the car sped away from the campus, leaving a wake of chaos and scandal behind them, Mark looked down at his hands. They were shaking.

"You... you kissed me," Mark whispered, the reality finally sinking in. "In front of everyone. You just... you just ended my life."

Leo adjusted his cuffs, not looking at him. "I didn't end your life, Mark. I started your new one. You wanted to be known for your goals? Now you're known as the partner of Leo. It’s a much more powerful title."

"I hate you," Mark said, the words sounding hollow even to himself. "I will never forgive you for this."

Leo finally turned to look at him, a dark, unreadable expression in his eyes. "Forgiveness isn't part of the deal, Mark. Survival is. And right now, I’m the only one keeping you afloat."

As the university faded into the distance, Mark realized with a sickening jolt that Leo was right. By kissing him in public, Leo hadn't just protected the lie—he had made it the only reality Mark had left.