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The invigorating scent of the Cool Sport body wash filled Saint’s senses, sharp and bracing like a cold mountain breeze. The tension in his shoulders began to melt away as the warm water cascaded down his skin, trailing over every curve of his lean, taut frame. Each droplet felt like it was washing away the remnants of the day’s coming stress, leaving only a sense of calm in its wake.
He tilted his head back, letting the water hammer against his shoulders while the suds spiraled downward, disappearing into the drain. The rhythmic sound of water meeting tile was both soothing and hypnotic, almost lulling him into a meditative state.
Then, a tantalizing aroma pierced through the steam-filled air. The earthy richness of herbs and spices intermingled, creating a scent so potent it made his stomach churn in protest. His lips curled into a soft smile. Mae must have been cooking something special.
Please let there be enough for everyone, Saint thought, his lips quirking into a rueful grin. He could whip something up for himself if necessary—he often did—but not having to always felt like a small, cherished luxury.
He ran his fingers through his damp hair, ensuring the soap was fully rinsed out, before turning off the water with a satisfied sigh. As the last drops dripped from his fingertips, reality intruded.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, realizing with a sinking feeling that he’d forgotten a towel. Again.
Saint scanned the small bathroom, his gaze landing on the towel rack. Shin’s towel hung there, slightly damp from earlier use. He grimaced, reluctant to borrow it, but necessity was a cruel master.
With a resigned sigh, he reached for it. Even the texture of it was wrong—then stopped mid-motion. There, neatly folded on the counter, was a pristine blue towel. Relief washed over him, and his chest swelled with gratitude.
“Thank you, Khun Mae,” he whispered under his breath, a smile tugging at his lips as he hung Shin’s towel back in its place.
Mae’s gestures, though small, meant the world to him. Over the past few months, her wary glances and guarded words had softened. She was warming to him, and it was everything Saint had hoped for. He understood her protectiveness, her need to shield Shin from any potential pain, especially after what had happened between them. And Saint would do anything—anything—to prove to her that he was worth trusting again. He was proving himself—proving that he belonged in Shin’s life, not as a fleeting presence, but as someone who would never hurt him again.
If protecting Shin’s happiness required breaking through walls of doubt and mistrust, he’d do it. And if it meant earning Shin's mother’s full acceptance, he'd gladly keep fighting for it.
Shin wasn’t just a part of his life; he was Saint’s life.
Once dried and dressed, he ran his fingers through his damp hair, checking his reflection in the foggy mirror one last time before stepping out of the bathroom. His stomach growled again, louder this time, the tantalizing aroma now stronger and more inviting.
He smirked at the thought of stealing a bite from Shin’s plate. Chingching would likely share with him anyway, her laughter bright and teasing as always. But the idea of savoring a meal prepared by Shin’s mother, a sign of the family he was slowly becoming part of, made the moment all the more exciting.
“Mmm, that smells… good ?” Saint’s voice carried a mix of hope and hesitation as he pushed open the bedroom door, only to be met with a wave of charred aroma that slapped him square in the face. The smell was so intense it almost had a personality. Burnt Toasty , he’d call it.
“What the—?” He rushed to the kitchen like a firefighter responding to an alarm, only to find Shin, of all people, proudly plating a very questionable-looking omelet over rice.
“I made breakfast!” Shin declared, beaming like he’d just cured world hunger. The plate was presented with such enthusiasm that Saint’s heart skipped, though whether from affection or sheer culinary fear was up for debate.
Saint cautiously stepped closer, nostrils flaring as he tried to identify the scent. “Where’s your mom and Chingching?” he asked, his tone tinged with suspicion. “Because for a second, I thought this was her good cooking.”
“They left right after you woke up,” Shin replied with a casual shrug. “Some school event for Chingching. Just us, for now. Don’t worry, they’ll be back in time to cry at our graduation.”
Saint raised a brow at the ominous dish. “And you decided to commemorate our last morning as students by torturing me with a charcoal omelet?” He let out a laugh, poking at the overcooked egg with one finger like it might bite back.
“Excuse me, like you could do better !” Shin shot back, slamming the plate on the counter with a dramatic clang.
“Better?!” Saint gasped, already grabbing an egg. “I am the noodle cart prince, Shin. This—” he gestured at the catastrophe on the counter, “—is an insult to my ancestors.”
“Great, your ancestors must be thrilled ,” Shin drawled, rolling his eyes but unable to fight the grin creeping onto his face.
Saint smirked, cracking the egg with a flourish. “Watch and learn, Mr. Omelet King.”
“Oh, let’s see what you’ve got, Noodle Cart.” Shin leaned against the counter, crossing his arms but still leaning closer as Saint whisked spices into the eggs with reckless confidence.
“Too much!” Shin groaned when Saint dumped an extra pinch—okay, several pinches—of seasoning into the bowl.
“You’re such a drama queen,” Saint teased, flashing him a pout that could melt hearts. “It’s called flavor , Shin. You wouldn’t understand.”
“Flavor, my ass,” Shin retorted with a laugh that was light as air, his voice softer now, his eyes lingering on Saint’s concentrated face.
For years, Saint had imagined moments like this: being here, joking, laughing, cooking together with Shin. His Shin .
“Open!” Saint suddenly commanded, catching Shin off guard as he shoved a spoonful of his masterpiece into Shin’s mouth.
“Mmph—!” Shin choked, his face scrunching as he somehow forced the bite down. “Saint, do your taste buds even work?! How much salt did you put in that?”
“The right amount,” Saint protested, looking genuinely confused.
“Right amount?! If I were a snail, I’d be dead !” Shin cried, grabbing a water bottle and guzzling it down like his life depended on it.
“At least mine isn’t a fire hazard!” Saint countered, leaning in close and shaking his head mockingly in Shin’s face.
Shin narrowed his eyes, leaning even closer until their noses nearly touched. The teasing vanished for a second, replaced by a charged silence. His breath hitched as the faint scent of his soap clung to Saint’s skin, and suddenly, the room felt too small.
“Let’s just eat!” Shin blurted, breaking the tension as he grabbed his plate and all but fled to the table in the other room.
Saint blinked, left standing there in the kitchen with a goofy smile playing on his lips. After collecting his plate, he followed Shin to the table, only to find Shin hadn’t started eating yet.
“Here,” Saint said casually, dropping peeled garlic onto Shin’s plate.
“With an omelet?” Shin asked, his confusion evident.
“You don’t want it? Fine, I’ll take it back—” Saint made a mock grab for it, but Shin shielded his plate like it was a national treasure.
“No! They’re mine! Get your own!” Shin barked, his face a mix of mock outrage and fondness.
“You’re ridiculous.” Saint laughed, sitting down with a grin that Shin couldn’t help but mirror.
“And you’re annoying .”
“Yeah,” Saint agreed, eyes twinkling. “But you love it.”
Shin shook his head, biting back a smile. He didn’t deny it.
~~~
“What am I, your maid?” Shin shot Saint an incredulous look, freezing in place as Saint slinked around him from behind, placing his plate in the sink with exaggerated ease.
"Could you be?" Saint teased, his tone light and playful as he stepped closer. Without hesitation, he rested his chin on Shin's shoulder, adopting the most desperate puppy dog face he could muster.
"No!" Shin grumbled, shrugging his shoulders in an effort to shake Saint off. But it didn’t work—Saint’s presence lingered, as did the ghostly warmth of his hands brushing against Shin's hips. The sensation stayed far longer than Shin wanted to admit. “Do your own dishes, you slob.”
Saint sighed dramatically, a faux pout tugging at his lips. “Fine,” he relented with exaggerated defeat. “Then I'll be your maid.” He grabbed the dishcloth and the plate Shin had been holding, all too eager to take over.
“Some maid you are. I was already done!” Shin huffed, shaking his head in exasperation as he exited the kitchen.
Being Saint’s friend was exhausting —a thankless job that demanded more patience than anyone should reasonably have. Shin groaned, the weight of Saint’s antics pulling at his mood in contradicting ways as he entered his bedroom. Then he stopped, his jaw tightening at the sight before him: clothes scattered across the floor like a hurricane had passed through, and the bedsheets twisted and crumpled in a way that defied all logic.
“Ai, Saint!” Shin bellowed, his frustration loud enough to echo down the hallway.
“What now?” Saint called back, his voice carrying a note of mischief as if he were already prepared to dismiss whatever Shin was about to say.
“You didn’t even make the bed!”
“It’s your bed,” Saint replied lazily, the grin in his tone unmistakable.
“You slept in it last!”
“Not my fault you woke up so early.”
Shin nearly jumped out of his skin when Saint’s voice came from right behind him, warm breath brushing the back of his neck.
“You’re too warm. Who could even sleep next to you?” Shin grumbled, though the complaint lacked conviction.
“You seemed fine all the other times,” Saint quipped with a sly grin as he brushed past Shin into the room. He shot Shin a wink when their eyes met, leaving Shin to turn away quickly, hoping his flushed ears weren’t as noticeable as they felt.
Shin followed Saint into the room, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the chaos of the bed. He grabbed a pillow, shaking it for emphasis. “Are you an alligator? Why are the sheets so twisted?!”
“I get restless without my favorite body pillow,” Saint replied, unbothered.
“Body pillow? I’m not your pillow!” Shin grumbled, yanking at the sheets in an effort to straighten them.
“Stop,” Saint commanded suddenly. His voice was so firm that Shin froze, dropping the sheets in surprise.
In one swift motion, Saint pulled the sheets off the bed and untwisted them with an efficiency that left Shin blinking.
“Oh, good. Thanks, Khun Maid, ” Shin quipped with a sarcastic grin.
“You’re helping,” Saint shot back, tossing the now-flat sheet onto the bed.
“It’s good to thank the help, Saint,” Shin said smoothly, earning a scoff from Saint.
“Anything for my other half,” Saint replied, tossing a pillow straight at Shin’s face. “Muah!”
“Kiss this!” Shin shouted, launching himself over the bed with a pillow in hand, landing a solid hit on Saint’s head.
“Oh, that’s how you wanna play?” Saint laughed, his voice like soft wind chimes in Shin’s ears.
The room descended into chaos. Pillows flew as Shin darted around the bed, trying to evade Saint’s relentless attacks. When Saint managed to grab Shin’s ankle and pull him back down onto the bed, Shin resorted to the only weapon he had left: tickling.
Saint’s laughter erupted as Shin’s fingers found his sides. It gave Shin just enough of an opening to flip them over, triumphant as he pinned Saint beneath him.
“Gotcha!” Shin crowed gleefully, pressing a pillow against Saint’s face for emphasis.
“Are you trying to kill me?” Saint chuckled, wrestling the pillow away with ease. The sudden shift sent Shin tumbling forward, landing chest to chest, their noses almost touching.
For a moment, time seemed to stop.
Shin wasn’t breathing. He wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t moving. His wide eyes darted across Saint’s face, taking in every detail—the curve of his lips, the flush creeping up his cheeks, the sound of his heartbeat pounding in time with his own.
And then, like a spark igniting a wildfire, the space between them closed, and Shin felt Saint’s soft lips pressed against his.
Shin wasn’t sure who moved first. One moment, they were staring at each other, breath hitching in the charged silence; the next, Saint’s hand was gripping the back of his neck, firm and unyielding, while Shin’s fingers cradled Saint’s jaw like he was something fragile, breakable. Their lips met in a halting, uncertain clash, slow and awkward like neither of them knew what they were doing—or maybe because both of them did.
The kiss was slow, hesitant, trembling on the edge of doubt. His lips moved against Saint’s, awkward and unpracticed. The first brush of teeth against Shin’s lower lip sent a jolt shot through him so sharply it felt like fire in his veins. His breath hitched, his pulse thrumming so loud it drowned out rational thought. Almost instinctively, he deepened the kiss, pressing harder, but he was still hesitant, careful to keep his tongue in check as though afraid of crossing an invisible line. Instead, he sucked on Saint’s lip, his teeth grazing just enough to pull a soft sound from Saint’s throat—a sound that shouldn’t have made Shin’s entire chest feel like it was collapsing and expanding at once.
His mind screamed at him to stop, to pull away, to apologize for this collision of boundaries and sense, but the moment Saint sighed into his mouth, soft and breathy, those thoughts melted like ice in sunlight.
Then it happened. A tongue, warm and insistent, slid against the seal of his lips, asking rather than taking. And Shin broke. His barriers crumbled as he kissed Saint back deeply, recklessly. His fingers tangled into Saint’s hair, tugging just enough to feel the soft strands tighten between his knuckles. Saint’s grip on his neck shifted, firmer, almost possessive, holding Shin in place as though he might disappear if let go.
Shin’s lips left Saint’s, trailing along his jawline, a path of heated, open-mouthed kisses. The shift in focus made Saint’s breathing hitch, and when Shin’s mouth found the sensitive skin of Saint’s neck, Saint’s fingers dug into his back, a silent plea to keep going.
When Shin’s teeth nipped at Saint’s earlobe, Saint gasped—a sound so raw and unguarded that it made Shin’s stomach twist. The noise wasn’t just encouragement; it was fuel, igniting something reckless and uncharted in him. He bit down again, harder this time, earning a sound that was more moan than sigh, more need than restraint.
“Shin? Saint? Are you ready?” The voice, sharp and loud, tore through the moment like a crashing wave, snapping Shin out of whatever haze he’d fallen into.
He froze, pulling back as though burned, his wide, panic-stricken eyes locking onto Saint’s equally stunned expression.
“P’Saint? Where are you?” Chingching’s unmistakable, cheery voice called out, her footsteps echoing as she bounded up the stairs.
Shin scrambled off the bed, his heart racing for a completely different reason now. He stood awkwardly, his mind a whirlwind of emotions he couldn’t begin to untangle. Saint, on the other hand, seemed to recover faster, smoothing his mussed hair with a practiced nonchalance that almost fooled Shin. Almost. Because even as Saint sat up, a calm veneer settling over his flushed features, his gaze flicked to Shin’s with something unreadable—a question left hanging in the air between them, too fragile to voice.
Before Shin could respond—or even breathe—Chingching burst through the door with all the energy of a summer storm. She didn’t notice the tension, didn’t see Shin’s stiff posture or the way Saint’s fingers flexed nervously against his knee. Instead, she zeroed in on Saint, throwing herself onto his lap with an exuberant squeal.
“P’Saint!”
Saint caught her effortlessly, his face lighting up with a smile so genuine it made Shin’s chest ache. He watched as Saint wrapped his arms around Chingching, laughing softly as she squeezed him like a plush toy.
“Just P’Saint?!” Shin complained, forcing a laugh to mask the turmoil still twisting inside him. “Chingching, I’ll cry!”
Saint’s expression softened, and he turned his attention to Shin, his lips quirking into an amused grin. “Aww, he’s jealous. Chingching, you can’t let P’Shin cry. Look at him—he’s pouting!”
Sure enough, Shin had pushed out his bottom lip and was making exaggerated sniffles as he knelt before them, clasping his hands dramatically.
“You’re so dramatic!” Chingching giggled, reaching out to grab Shin’s face and squishing his cheeks playfully. Her bubbly laugh filled the room, and for a moment, the tension from earlier dissolved into the warmth of shared affection.
“You both need to be at the school in less than an hour,” Shin’s mom called from the doorway, her tone light but firm. She stood there with a knowing smile, her eyes sparkling with amusement.
“Really?” Shin asked, glancing at the clock in alarm.
“It’s that late already?” Saint added, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“Yes. What have you been doing? Wrestling again?” Shin’s mom teased, her laughter light and familiar. “One day you’ll grow up. Just not too fast, okay?” Her smile shifted to a mock pout, but her eyes remained warm and tender.
“Yes, Mae,” both boys replied in unison, their voices harmonizing with a hint of sheepishness.
As Shin’s mom turned to leave, Chingching jumped off Saint’s lap, grabbing both boys by their hands and pulling them to their feet. The playful energy in the room lingered, but as Shin glanced at Saint, he caught the flicker of something unresolved in his eyes—a shadow of the moment they’d shared, now tucked away like a secret too fragile to see the light.
They were dropped off at the front of the school while Shin’s mom and Chingching went to find their seats.
“Finally! I thought you might skip graduation!” Airy yelled, jogging toward them as they stepped into the school.
“It was a 50/50 chance with these two,” Eve added with a smirk.
“Yeah, yeah, we made it,” Shin sighed, running a hand through his hair. “But I gotta use the bathroom.”
“Me too.” Saint grabbed Shin’s arm with a mischievous glint in his eye, tugging him toward the restrooms.
“Together?” Airy asked, laughing.
“I’d be shocked if it wasn’t the same stall!” Eve shouted after them, her giggles echoing down the hall.
~
“What is your deal? I really have to pee!” Shin grumbled as Saint pulled him into the largest stall, locking the door behind them.
“Then pee.” Saint leaned casually against the wall. “I can talk while you do it.”
Shin’s eyes widened. “Pee? With you standing there?”
“You’ve done it before,” Saint said with a shrug.
“That was before…” Shin’s voice faltered, his cheeks growing pink.
“Before you attacked me on your bed?” Saint teased, his tone as light as the grin playing on his lips.
“You kissed me!” Shin snapped louder than he meant to. Saint clamped a hand over Shin’s mouth, stepping closer.
“Shh,” Saint whispered, his voice low and teasing. “You don’t have to yell. And for the record…” He smirked, pulling his hand away. “You kissed me.”
“Pinned me to your bed,” Saint continued, his voice dripping with amusement. “I probably still have the marks.” Shin’s glare wavered as Saint tugged at his collar, revealing faint marks just above his collarbone.
Shin’s face flushed. “I—” His words tripped over each other, and his head dropped. “Sorry.”
“I’m not.” Saint’s grin softened into something gentler, something Shin wasn’t prepared for.
“Really?” Shin asked, his voice quiet, unsure.
The worry in Shin’s expression hit Saint like a punch. “Of course,” Saint said, stepping closer. “I’m just bummed I didn’t get to return the favor.”
“Return… the favor?” Shin’s voice was barely above a whisper. His throat felt tight, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Saint could hear it.
“What does this mean then?” Shin asked, trying to keep his composure.
Saint tilted his head, considering Shin for a moment. “What do you want it to mean?” He leaned in, his breath warm against Shin’s ear. “If you’re worried I don’t feel the same, you can stop worrying. I do.”
Shin turned his head slightly toward Saint and froze as Saint’s lips brushed the corner of his. His mind was a jumbled mess of impulses—push him away, pull him closer, say something, anything. All he managed was a shaky nod.
Saint’s grin widened. “Good. But can we figure it out later? We’re gonna miss our own graduation.”
Shin blinked, pulling himself together just enough to nod again. “Yeah. Later. Now leave; I really need to go!”
Saint chuckled, unlocking the stall. “Fine, fine. But now that we’ve kissed, you’re shy?” He shook his head in mock disbelief as he stepped out.
Shin glared at him, though it lacked any real heat. “Out!”
Saint washed his hands at the sink, casually fixing his hair as giggling voices filtered in from the hallway.
“Together? You think they’re…”
“Dating, probably. ” The giggles turned into outright laughter.
Saint smiled to himself. He didn’t recognize the voices, so he didn’t care who they were talking about, but it amused him all the same.
Shin emerged from the stall, muttering under his breath as he washed his hands next to Saint. “You waited?”
“Of course,” Saint replied smoothly. “I always wait for my other half.”
“Other half, my ass,” Shin shot back, trying and failing to hide his smile.
“Yours for now,” Saint countered, his voice low enough to make Shin freeze mid-motion.
Shin swallowed hard, his chest tight with unspoken thoughts, but Saint had already turned away, slinging an arm over Shin’s shoulders as they headed for the door.
“Let’s go graduate!” Saint roared, his voice carrying down the hall.
Shin rolled his eyes but allowed the contact. “Aish,” he muttered under his breath, hiding the grin tugging at his lips.
Bursting through the doors just in time, they hurried down the aisle with barely suppressed giggles and hushed whispers trailing behind them. The sound of their sneakers scuffing against the polished floor was almost louder than their attempts to shush each other. They were just on the edge of being late, hearts pounding from the race to their seats. They could feel eyes on them from every direction.
Sliding into their spots, they froze for a moment in surprise. By some twist of fate—or perhaps some unseen act of kindness—they were seated side by side. Saint shot a glance at Shin, his pulse quickening for reasons far beyond the rush to make it on time. They didn’t dare question if it was a mistake. The unspoken agreement hung between them: the last thing Saint wanted was to be separated now, not after everything they’d been through. What if Shin changed his mind?
The ceremony flowed around them like a dream, moments blurring until their names rang out over the speakers. Rising together, their movements were synchronized like a reflex. They strode across the stage, pausing under the bright lights to pose for the cameras, diplomas clutched in their hands like proof they’d made it through—together.
“Nice job, man,” Shin muttered, extending his fist.
“Right back at you,” Saint replied with a grin, meeting the gesture with a satisfying bump before they returned to their seats. The giggles from their friends did not go unnoticed.
As they settled back in, the buzz of the moment still thrumming in their veins, the valedictorian, Cable, took the podium. Saint’s thoughts wandered. His gaze flickered to Shin, who sat beside him, the corner of his mouth tugging up in the smallest of smiles.
“Good afternoon, everyone. Faculty, families, friends, and most importantly, our graduating class welcome to this momentous occasion. Today, we celebrate not just the achievement of a diploma but the triumph of resilience, unity, and sheer determination.”
The excitement in the room quieted as Cable’s voice rang over the microphone.
“As I stand here looking out at all of you, I am reminded of the countless memories we’ve shared— and the strife. But beyond the laughter in the hallways, the late-night study sessions, and the achievements, what truly defines our journey are the challenges we faced and overcame together.
Many of us sitting here today were unsure if this day would come. Some of us struggled with grades, doubted our abilities, or faced personal battles that seemed insurmountable. I think of stepping down when it meant someone else could go to the Thai Language contest, working to bring two old friends back together, and the rivalry between what was two schools that finally came to a close.”
Shin felt a hand wrap around his fingers, but just briefly. He looked up to see the faint glow of stage lights reflected in Saint's eyes, glistening like the surface of a pond just kissed by rain. His expression was unguarded, soft in a way Shin rarely saw, and it struck something deep in Shin's chest.
A smirk tugged at the corner of Shin’s mouth. He leaned in close, so close he could feel the warmth radiating from Saint’s skin. “You sentimental jerk,” Shin whispered, his voice low and teasing, each word, his lips brushed against Saint’s ear like a feather.
“What, me? Never,” Saint murmured, his voice barely audible. His lips quirked upward, fighting a grin that threatened to spill across his face as he wiped at his eyes.
“For some of our classmates, graduating felt out of reach at times. Whether it was due to a tough class, a difficult personal situation, or just feeling lost, there were moments when the future felt uncertain. But in those moments, we showed that we can build community when it feels impossible. We showed bravery by standing together to face demons in school and out.
Together, we proved that success isn’t just about individual effort—it’s about lifting each other up.
Our journey is a testament to the idea that challenges don’t define us. What defines us is how we respond. And today, as we sit here with our caps and gowns, we can proudly say: We did it. Not alone, but together.
Yet, as we celebrate, one of our own, Chatjen, had to move away before completing this final stretch with us. Chatjen, we miss you, and your presence has been deeply felt even in your absence. You were part of this journey, no this battle, and this milestone is as much yours as it is ours.”
This time, Saint felt a hand intertwine with his fingers. He looked down to see Shin's finger laced with his, a faint squeeze and the hand was gone too soon. Saint almost said something, but the images tears in Shin's eyes was enough to shut him up. This wasn't just about the kiss, or them, it was about their friend they both missed so much. The friend that wouldn’t believe what had happened a little bit earlier.
“To our teachers and mentors: Thank you for staying late, making house calls, and making us believe in ourselves when we felt it was impossible. Your guidance has been a cornerstone of our success.
To our families: Thank you for learning with us as we stumbled through adolescence—we are here today because of your unwavering support.
And to my classmates: Thank you for your courage and your persistence. We didn’t just pass classes or ace exams; we learned how to persevere, how to support one another, and most importantly how to turn setbacks into comebacks. Let these lessons carry us far beyond this stage and into our futures.
Life will undoubtedly present new hurdles, but if there’s one thing we should never forget, it’s this: We are stronger together. So as we go our separate ways, let’s take this spirit of determination and community with us, wherever we go.
Congratulations. We proved others wrong and our supporters right. We made it, and we made it together!”
As the final words of the speech echoed through the auditorium, Cable flung his cap high into the air, the tassel twirling like a shooting star. A split second later, the room erupted into a symphony of cheers, applause, and the fluttering of caps. One by one, the graduating class followed Cable’s lead, their caps soaring upward in a kaleidoscope of color and celebration.
Saint, electrified by the moment, seized Shin’s hand and thrust it into the air with a jubilant holler. His grip was firm but warm, his excitement palpable. His voice cut through the cacophony with an unrestrained holler, pure and electrifying.
Shin froze for a heartbeat, his gaze snapping to their joined hands. His stomach churned, a wild mix of exhilaration and panic bubbling within him. Butterflies stirred violently, threatening to break free, their wings brushing against the walls of his chest.
He wanted to pull away, to retreat to the safe boundaries they had always known, but his fingers stayed curled around Saint’s. The warmth was undeniable, grounding, yet it sent sparks racing up his arm.
There was something surreal about it—about how naturally their hands fit together, about how it felt as though this moment had been waiting for him all along. A part of him marveled at the sheer improbability, at the weight of years spent pushing down a longing he hadn’t dared to name.
Now, with Saint’s fingers clasped firmly in his, Shin couldn’t deny it anymore. He didn’t want to.
For the first time, Shin realized how much he had wanted this—how much he had wanted him.