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Saint remembers the moment he realized Shin liked him back.
They were sitting at Saint’s father’s noodle stall, waiting for the noodles to cook.
They had made love earlier that morning, after Shin arrived at Saint’s house. Hungry kisses, ghost-like touches, obscene sounds, murmured affection.
Saint wasn’t fighting his feelings anymore—he couldn’t.
They had long since crossed the line of being just friends, so Saint tried to pour all his emotions into Shin. In every thrust, every touch, every deep kiss that stole the air from Shin’s lungs.
Because Saint loved Shin. Always had. Every part of him.
Shin was both Saint’s savior and his reason to sin.
Shin was in his darkest secrets and his sweetest dreams.
Maybe that was the moment—when Saint understood his love wasn’t one-sided.
Shin looked at him differently now. Head tilted, lips slightly parted. His hand reached out again and again to touch Saint’s. Their knees brushed beneath the small table, but above all, it was the eyes.
Shin’s beautiful eyes that looked at him with hunger. Not in a sexual way—much more than that. As if Shin needed Saint’s touch constantly, just to remember he was there. As if he depended on him, as if he trusted him.
And that? That look? It stabbed Saint's heart in all the right places.
“Hey Saint, can I get your phone?” Saint handed it over without hesitation.
They were on the rooftop now. A pleasant breeze blew, and the sunset unfolded before them in all its colors.
Music by Cigarettes After Sex started playing from Saint’s phone. He looked up in question at the other, who simply tugged him to his feet.
“Dance with me?”
And so they twirled around each other. Their steps were oddly coordinated, clumsy, but neither of them cared. Shin buried his head in the crook of Saint’s neck, pressing his chest to the other’s.
Saint knew—knew—that Shin could hear the frantic pace of his heart. In fact, Shin let out a low laugh into his shoulder, exhaling a shaky breath.
They kept swaying together like that until the sky darkened completely.
Only the soft music and the stars above bore witness to the two of them.
“Shin, do I really have to?”
Shin pushed him toward the wall. “Come on, stand nicely.”
Saint leaned his head against the wall, flowers hanging from it almost tangling in his hair, but he still smiled.
A soft click from the camera in Shin’s hand. Then another. And another.
Saint just stood among the flowers, barely changing poses, while Shin photographed him endlessly.
“Hey Shin, are you done yet?”
The other lowered the camera for a moment, his gaze dazed as he looked at Saint.
“I love it when you wear black.”
Just like that, in a deep voice, almost too quiet for Saint to hear. He wasn’t even wearing anything special—just a black turtleneck and matching pants. But the compliment pierced Saint’s chest.
Shin stepped closer, almost pinning Saint to the wall behind him.
“I think... I think I like it this way.”
“This way—how?” Saint barely managed to say, his voice caught in his throat.
Shin reached out and grabbed the back of Saint’s neck, pressing their foreheads together.
“This way. When you're with me. And no one else.”
Saint’s heart was too weak to contain all the warmth swirling in his stomach. He grabbed Shin’s jaw and pulled him in for a kiss.
Saint had kissed Shin many times before. That didn’t change the fact that every time their lips met, it sent fireworks to his heart.
The butterflies in his stomach tangled into each other, and he could barely keep himself upright—barely, because Shin was holding him in place.
His fingers buried deep in Saint’s hair, his tongue sliding past his lips.
Their tongues danced together, heartbeats thudding in perfect harmony. The world around them blurred. The street, the camera, the flowers, the fact that they hadn’t officially crossed the line from friends.
It was just them, and the unspoken feelings.
It shouldn’t surprise Shin—Saint being in his room. He had been there dozens of times before. Shin hoped he’d be there thousands more in the future.
An unfamiliar feeling overtook Shin, but he didn’t push it away like he used to. He suddenly realized how much Saint belonged. To his home, his room, to Shin.
Shin suddenly understood the emptiness he had felt during the three years they were apart. His heart had belonged to Saint for so long, and when Saint left, part of it went with him. It was almost as if their souls were tied together.
It was never just pure friendship. Not even close. Shin didn’t feel this way about any of his other friends.
And when he says this way, he means this.
This physical need for touch, as if Saint would slip through his fingers if he let go. This need to feel close, to feel Saint’s breath on his skin, to hear his heartbeat.
This stupid need of his for constant proof that Saint was staying. With Shin. Where he belongs.
How many nights had he dreamed of this exact moment? Of Saint in his bed, head resting on Shin’s chest, their legs tangled under the blanket.
How much had he missed this? The feeling of Saint in his arms, clinging to him like a big puppy.
How much had Shin craved this? To hold Saint until he fell asleep.
He wanted it so badly. Every night since their fallout. He longed for this closeness—even during the time he was angry at him. Especially during the time he was angry.
But now? It was perfect. Just like Shin had imagined all that time.
Shin looked at the sleeping body beside him. He brushed Saint’s hair off his face, then leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead.
“Stay with me,” he whispered. Quietly, almost reverently.
“Don’t leave me.”
And as always, only the stars peeking through the window witnessed the bond forming between the two.
In the past.
“Shin,” Saint grabbed the other’s wrist. “Where are you going? Come back here.”
Shin had come up to the roof just to smoke, damn it. Why is this shit have to be everywhere?
“Let go of me, Saint. It’s the only thing you’re really good at.”
Saint physically flinched at the words but still didn’t let go.
“Shin, please. Just let me say one thing. Then I’ll let you go. I won’t bother you ever again, I promise.”
Shin’s face was burning with anger. He grabbed Saint’s collar and yanked him close. Their noses were almost touching.
“So what, you’re gonna say you’re sorry and then leave me again, you piece of shit?” The last words were practically shouted, but no one heard except the wind.
Saint’s eyes welled with tears, and he nearly collapsed at Shin’s feet.
He knew—knew—he was about to do the stupidest thing he’d ever done.
He knew Shin would probably hate him more than ever.
He knew, but he did it anyway.
Because if he didn’t kiss Shin right now,
Saint honestly thought he would die.
So he pressed his lips to Shin’s—and almost drowned.
Shin’s lips were dry, tasting of blood from a wound that hadn’t healed from his last fight.
Saint was drowning, overwhelmed, nearly dying—because Shin wasn’t pushing him away.
The grip on his collar loosened. The other’s lips barely responded, but it was enough.
Because it was Shin, and he wasn’t running. Because it was Shin, and he wasn’t leaving.
Because it was Shin.
Because for Saint, it had always been Shin.
“I waited for you,” Saint whispered when they broke apart.
It hadn’t been a kiss—not really. Just silent promises. Hidden secrets. Rage, pain, infinite love.
And Saint swallowed hard, because Shin tasted like the forbidden. Like hunger. Like a passion that had simmered just beneath the surface for too long.
When they returned to class that day, Shin didn’t ignore Saint.
He just walked beside him without a word—but Saint was happy.
Because Shin was by his side.
And he would make sure it stayed that way, forever.