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Saint had always known he was meant to follow Shin. Whether it was soccer or simply life, Shin always been his everything. They had grown up together, the kind of friendship built on shared dreams, late-night talks, and the kind of unspoken understanding that could only come from years of being side by side.
They were in the same college now, just two broke college students living in a tiny, basic apartment. It wasn’t much — bare walls, a small kitchenette with mismatched furniture, and a bedroom with a creaky bed. But it was enough. It was their space, their haven, where they called their home.
Shin had a dream. That dream was soccer. Every minute of his day was consumed with practice, training, games, and the constant push to get better. On the other hand, Saint had no delusions about what his own future would look like. He wasn’t interested in becoming a professional anything. He’d studied just enough to get into the same college as Shin — nothing more, nothing less. But that was all that mattered. He just wanted to be there, with Shin. To be by his side, supporting him, cheering for him, and sometimes even just sitting in silence together.
It wasn’t glamorous, but it was enough for Saint. It had always been enough.
The nights were the best part. After long days of classes, Shin would head out to practice, and Saint would pick him up afterward. It was their routine — no matter how tired Saint was from his own classes or the odd jobs he took on to help cover their living expenses, he would always make time for Shin. It was never a question.
Their apartment, small and humble, was filled with soccer memorabilia. Shin’s cleats — well-worn from months of practice — were placed neatly by the door, his jerseys hung up on the walls, and old game tickets were scattered across the coffee table. Saint would often look at these little reminders of Shin’s dream, of what they had both worked for. But deep down, Saint knew that it wasn’t just Shin’s dream that mattered. It was theirs.
Shin would never admit it, but Saint knew how much he appreciated the little things Saint did for him. The drives to practice, the meals they shared — often basic, cheap meals they threw together after another exhausting day — it was all part of the quiet rhythm of their life.
It was a quiet life, but to Saint, it felt like everything. Shin’s soccer career was everything to him, and Saint knew it was only a matter of time before Shin went pro. He’d always believed in Shin’s potential, even when Shin didn’t believe in himself. But that dream felt so close now. Shin had already made a name for himself on the college team, and Saint knew that if he just kept pushing, if he kept working hard, the future would be his.
But for now, things were simpler.
One evening, as they sat on their small couch, eating takeout after another long day of classes, Shin looked over at Saint. There was something different in his eyes tonight — a glint of something Saint couldn’t quite place.
“You ever think about where we’ll be in a few years?” Shin asked, his voice thoughtful as he set his chopsticks down.
Saint looked over at him, the question catching him off guard. "What do you mean?"
Shin shrugged, a half smile on his face. "I mean... do you ever think about how far you’ve come? How far we’ve come?"
Saint chuckled. "Far enough to live in a crummy apartment with a broken shower, I guess."
Shin laughed along with him, the kind of deep, genuine laugh that made Saint’s heart swell. “Yeah, but... I don’t know. It feels like things are about to change. It’s like I can feel it. I’m gonna make it. I’m gonna go pro, Saint. I know it.”
Saint smiled, but it wasn’t just a smile of encouragement. It was a smile full of pride, the kind that was more than just surface-level. “I know you will. You’ve always had it in you.”
Shin’s gaze softened, his eyes searching Saint’s face for something. “You know... no matter what happens, I want you there. I want you to be part of this. You’ve always been there for me, and I don’t want that to change.”
Saint felt his chest tighten. He knew exactly what Shin meant. They had always been a team — no matter what. But Saint couldn’t help but feel like his future was tied to Shin’s. It wasn’t that he didn’t have dreams, but his dreams had always been centered around Shin. It was his dream to support Shin, to help him get to the next level. And maybe, just maybe, Saint could help him with that.
“Of course,” Saint said softly. “I’ll always be here. For you, always.”
Shin grinned and bumped his shoulder into Saint’s. “I’m serious. I’m not just saying that to sound all sentimental. I mean it. You’re more than just my friend. You’re... everything to me, man.”
Saint’s heart swelled at the words. He didn’t know what the future would look like, but he knew one thing for sure: He was going to be there for Shin, no matter where life took them.
And so, they sat there, side by side, in their small, humble apartment, both of them dreaming about the future. Saint didn’t need anything else. As long as he was with Shin, everything would fall into place.
College life had a way of blurring days into nights. For Saint, it was more of the same. Morning classes, quick meals in between, odd jobs in the evenings, and then his favorite part of the day — picking up Shin after practice. The steady rhythm of it all felt comforting, but lately, Saint had started to notice just how much of himself he was pouring into making everything work.
Shin, on the other hand, seemed to be thriving. His hard work was paying off on the field, and Saint couldn’t help but feel proud every time he saw Shin come home exhausted but grinning after another win. His success made all of Saint’s own struggles worth it. No matter how many late shifts he worked or how much he skimmed on meals to save money, Shin’s happiness always made up for it.
Still, there were moments when Saint found himself wondering how long he could keep it up.
It started with the cleats.
It was a routine evening. Shin’s soccer practice had ended late, and Saint was waiting for him in the beat-up old car they shared. The heater had long since stopped working, and the windshield wipers made an awful screeching noise every time it rained. But it got the job done, and that was all that mattered.
Shin hopped into the passenger seat, his face flushed from the cold and the intensity of practice. “Thanks for picking me up again,” he said, grinning as he tossed his bag into the backseat.
“Of course,” Saint replied, starting the engine. “Not like I’d let you walk back in the dark.”
Shin laughed. “I could’ve taken the bus, you know.”
Saint gave him a mock glare. “You hate the bus.”
“Fair enough.” Shin leaned back in his seat, his gaze drifting out the window as they passed by the brightly lit storefronts lining the road.
Saint noticed when Shin’s eyes lingered on the display window of a sporting goods store. His attention zeroed in on a sleek pair of cleats, prominently displayed and surrounded by spotlights as if they were trophies themselves. Shin didn’t say anything, but Saint caught the way his expression softened, just for a moment.
“You like those?” Saint asked casually, though his heart already knew the answer.
Shin shrugged, his voice nonchalant. “They’re nice. But, you know... too expensive. And it’s not like my current ones are falling apart yet.”
Saint didn’t press, but the image of those cleats stayed with him. They weren’t just shoes. To Shin, they represented everything he was working toward — a symbol of the professional player he wanted to become.
That night, after Shin had gone to bed, Saint sat at their rickety dining table, staring at his laptop. He pulled up the website for the store and found the cleats easily. They were even more expensive than he’d thought. Saint grimaced at the price but quickly made a decision. He was going to buy them, no matter what it took.
The weeks that followed were a blur of exhaustion.
Saint took on extra shifts at the local convenience store, staying up late to stock shelves and clean the aisles after hours. He found a second job doing deliveries, zipping around town on his bike to drop off packages even when the weather was brutal. The pay wasn’t great, but it added up. Slowly but surely, he was getting closer to his goal.
But it came at a cost.
Saint started skipping meals to save money, lying to Shin by saying he’d already eaten whenever Shin asked. It wasn’t easy — sharing meals had always been their thing, a rare moment of calm amidst their busy lives. But every dollar counted, and Saint couldn’t justify spending money on himself when he was so close to affording the cleats.
At first, Shin didn’t seem to notice. He was busy with practices and games, his schedule packed with drills and team meetings. But as the weeks went by, he began to sense something was off. Saint was quieter these days, and he seemed more tired than usual.
“Are you okay?” Shin asked one night as they sat on the couch, watching highlights from Shin’s latest game.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Saint replied, forcing a smile.
Shin frowned. “I don’t know. You just seem... off.”
Saint waved him off. “I’m fine. Probably just tired from class.”
Shin didn’t push, but the concern lingered in his eyes.
One evening, Saint’s exhaustion caught up with him. He’d been out delivering packages late into the night, and by the time he got back to the apartment, he was too tired to do anything but collapse onto his bed. Shin had already gone to bed, so he didn’t see the dark circles under Saint’s eyes or the way his hands trembled from fatigue as he climbed the stairs to their apartment.
The next morning, Shin woke up to find Saint still asleep, his face pale and his breathing shallow. It was unusual — Saint was always the first one up, usually making coffee or fiddling with the ancient toaster in their kitchen.
“Saint?” Shin called out, shaking his shoulder gently.
Saint stirred, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
“You look awful,” Shin said bluntly, his brow furrowing. “Are you sick?”
“Nah, just tired,” Saint replied, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
But Shin did worry. He couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, even though Saint kept brushing it off.
Despite Shin’s growing concern, Saint continued to push himself. He couldn’t stop now — he was so close. The cleats were almost within reach, and the thought of seeing Shin’s face when he finally gifted them kept him going.
But the cracks in his facade were starting to show. Shin began noticing little things — Saint forgetting to eat, spacing out during conversations, and struggling to keep up with their usual banter. It hurt Shin, even though he couldn’t quite put his finger on why. It felt like Saint was pulling away from him, and he didn’t understand why.
One night, after another long practice, Shin climbed into the car and immediately turned to Saint.
“You’ve been acting weird lately,” he said, his tone more serious than usual.
Saint glanced at him, feigning confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” Shin hesitated, struggling to find the right words. “You’re always tired. You barely eat. And it feels like you’re... avoiding me.”
Saint’s heart sank, but he forced a laugh. “Avoiding you? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious, Saint,” Shin said, his voice cracking slightly. “If something’s wrong, you can tell me. I’m here, you know.”
Saint’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. He couldn’t tell Shin the truth — not yet. He was so close to finishing what he’d started, and he didn’t want to ruin the surprise.
“I’m fine, Shin,” he said softly. “I promise.”
Shin didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press further. The rest of the drive home was quiet, tension hanging in the air like a storm waiting to break.
The tension between Saint and Shin only grew over the next few weeks, like an invisible wall creeping up between them. For Shin, the change was subtle at first. Saint had always been there for him — his constant, his anchor. He drove Shin to practice, made sure he ate after exhausting games, and always cheered him on from the sidelines. But now, Saint felt... distant.
It was the little things. Saint wasn’t cracking as many jokes during their late night talks. He wasn’t pestering Shin about his messy habits or stealing fries off his plate during meals. Worst of all, he kept saying he’d “already eaten” when it was time to share their usual meals together, leaving Shin to eat alone.
At first, Shin chalked it up to stress. College wasn’t easy, and Saint had always carried his load without complaint. But the more he thought about it, the more Shin couldn’t shake the feeling that Saint was hiding something.
It hit him hardest after one late-night practice.
Shin had stayed late at the field, working on drills by himself under the floodlights. By the time he finally finished, the rest of his team was long gone, and the parking lot was quiet. Saint, as always, was waiting for him in their old car, the faint glow of his phone lighting up his tired face.
“Sorry I kept you waiting,” Shin said, tossing his bag into the backseat as he slid into the car.
“No worries,” Saint replied with a tired smile. “I don’t mind.”
Shin glanced at him, frowning. Saint looked more worn out than usual. There were dark circles under his eyes, and his posture was slouched in a way that made him seem smaller than his usual self.
“You okay?” Shin asked, trying to keep his tone casual.
“Yeah, just tired,” Saint replied, starting the car.
Shin didn’t believe him, but he didn’t push. The drive home was quiet, Saint’s usual chatter replaced by silence as he focused on the road.
When they got back to their apartment, Shin dropped his bag by the door and turned to Saint. “Hey, you wanna grab something to eat? I’m starving.”
Saint hesitated, his gaze flicking toward the kitchen. “You go ahead. I already ate.”
Shin’s stomach twisted. It was the same excuse Saint had been giving him for weeks. At first, Shin had believed him, but now he wasn’t so sure.
“Right,” Shin said, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice. “I’ll just make something then.”
Saint nodded and retreated to their shared bedroom, leaving Shin alone in the kitchen. As Shin pulled out a leftover container from the fridge, he couldn’t help but wonder: Why is he avoiding me?
The turning point came a few days later.
It was a rare free evening for both of them, and Shin decided to take the opportunity to call Saint out. They were sitting on the couch, a soccer match playing on the TV in front of them. Shin wasn’t really paying attention to the game — his focus was on Saint, who looked like he was about to fall asleep sitting up.
“Hey,” Shin said, breaking the silence.
Saint glanced at him. “What’s up?”
Shin hesitated for a moment before blurting out, “What’s going on with you?”
Saint blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”
“I mean...” Shin gestured vaguely. “This. You’ve been weird lately. You’re always tired, you’re skipping meals, and you don’t talk to me as much as you used to. Did I do something wrong?”
Saint’s chest tightened at the question, guilt washing over him. “No, Shin, it’s not you. I’ve just been busy, that’s all.”
“Busy with what?” Shin pressed. “You don’t even study that much.”
Saint flinched at the words, though he knew Shin didn’t mean them to sting. “I’ve just... had a lot on my plate, okay? It’s nothing to worry about.”
“But I am worried,” Shin said, his voice rising. “You’re my best friend, Saint. I notice when something’s wrong, and right now, something is wrong. ”
Saint looked away, unable to meet Shin’s gaze. He wanted to tell him the truth, to explain everything, but he couldn’t. Not yet. The cleats were so close — he just needed a little more time.
“I’m fine,” Saint said softly. “Really.”
Shin’s jaw tightened. “If you’re fine, then why do I feel like you’re pulling away from me?”
“I’m not,” Saint said quickly, his voice almost pleading.
“Then prove it,” Shin shot back. “Tell me what’s going on. Tell me why you’re acting like this.”
Saint clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. He couldn’t tell Shin — not when he was so close to finishing what he’d started.
“I can’t,” Saint whispered.
The words hung in the air like a heavy weight.
Shin stared at him, his expression a mix of frustration and hurt. “Fine,” he said after a long moment. “If you won’t tell me, then I don’t know what else to say.”
Before Saint could respond, Shin stood up abruptly, grabbing his coat. “I’m going for a walk.”
“Shin, wait —”
But Shin was already out the door, leaving Saint alone in the silence of their tiny apartment.
The days after Shin’s walkout were tense and quiet. Despite Shin returning that night, his attitude toward Saint remained cold, though tinged with concern he tried to mask. Saint, for his part, buried himself deeper into his routine — working extra hours and cutting corners on his own needs while ensuring Shin’s life went as smoothly as ever. Every ride to practice, every meal he cooked for Shin but didn’t share, was a silent act of devotion.
But the toll on Saint was growing. Each passing day left him weaker, the exhaustion seeping into his bones like an unrelenting weight. His once cheerful demeanor was now dulled, his presence becoming more of a shadow in their tiny apartment.
That fateful evening began like any other.
Shin had another late practice, staying behind to perfect his penalty shots under the floodlights. Saint had dropped him off earlier as usual, insisting he didn’t mind waiting to pick him up despite how haggard he looked.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Shin had asked, his tone softer than usual.
“I’m fine,” Saint had replied with his usual tired smile.
But he wasn’t fine. Not even close.
By the time Shin finished his practice, it was well past 9 PM. The field was quiet, most of his teammates having left long ago. He jogged to the parking lot, expecting to find Saint waiting in the car as usual.
But the car wasn’t there.
Shin frowned, pulling out his phone to call him. It rang twice before going to voicemail.
He’s never late, Shin thought, unease creeping into his chest.
Trying to calm the rising worry, Shin called again, this time texting when there was no response. He paced the empty parking lot, glancing at the dark street as minutes ticked by.
When a full thirty minutes passed with no word from Saint, Shin’s unease turned into outright panic.
He decided to head home, catching the last bus near campus. The ride felt unbearably slow, each stop dragging him further into a storm of thoughts. What if something had happened? Saint never ignored his calls, never left him waiting.
When Shin finally reached their apartment, he sprinted up the stairs, his heart pounding in his chest.
“Saint?” he called out, his voice echoing in the hallway as he unlocked the door.
The apartment was dark, eerily quiet. Shin flicked on the lights, his eyes scanning the small space. His bag dropped to the floor as he took a hesitant step inside.
“Saint?” he called again, louder this time.
Then he saw it — a pair of slippers near the bathroom, haphazardly tossed as if someone had collapsed mid-step.
Panic gripped him as he rushed to the bathroom door, which was slightly ajar. Inside, Saint was crumpled on the floor, his face pale and his breathing shallow.
“Saint!” Shin shouted, dropping to his knees beside him.
Saint’s eyes fluttered open weakly, his gaze unfocused. “Shin...?”
“Hey, hey, stay with me!” Shin said, his voice trembling as he cupped Saint’s face. “What happened? Are you hurt? Talk to me!”
Saint’s lips parted, but no sound came out at first. Finally, he managed a faint, “I’m... okay. Just tired...”
Shin’s hands shook as he reached for his phone, dialing emergency services. “You’re not okay!” he said, his voice cracking. “You’re — God, Saint, why didn’t you tell me it was this bad?”
The paramedics arrived within minutes, whisking Saint away to the campus hospital. Shin rode in the ambulance, gripping Saint’s hand tightly as the paramedics worked to stabilize him. The entire ride was a blur of flashing lights and rushing adrenaline, Shin’s mind racing with questions and guilt.
By the time they arrived at the hospital, Saint was awake but still weak. The doctors confirmed it was severe exhaustion compounded by malnutrition and dehydration.
“He’s lucky he didn’t collapse somewhere worse,” one of them told Shin.
Shin felt like the floor had been ripped out from under him.
Saint was resting in a hospital bed when Shin finally walked into the room. His heart clenched at the sight of him — pale, hooked up to an IV, yet still managing a faint smile when he saw Shin.
“Hey,” Saint said weakly.
Shin didn’t answer at first. He walked to the bed, his jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Shin finally said, his voice trembling with anger and worry.
Saint blinked at him, surprised. “Shin —”
“No, don’t,” Shin interrupted, his voice rising. “Don’t try to brush this off like it’s nothing! You scared the hell out of me, Saint! Do you have any idea how it felt finding you like that?”
Saint looked away, guilt shadowing his face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Sorry doesn’t cut it,” Shin snapped, his frustration spilling over. “Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling? Why did you let it get this bad?”
Saint hesitated, then sighed. “I didn’t want you to worry.”
“That’s not your decision to make!” Shin shot back. “I’m your best friend — more than that , for God’s sake. You’re supposed to tell me these things!”
“I just wanted to do something nice for you,” Saint said quietly, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t want you to know until it was done.”
“What are you talking about?” Shin asked, his anger giving way to confusion.
Saint reached for the small bag by his bed, fumbling to pull out a shoebox. He held it out to Shin with trembling hands.
“Here,” he said.
Shin stared at the box, his chest tightening as realization dawned on him. He opened it slowly, his breath catching when he saw the cleats inside.
“Saint...” Shin’s voice cracked as he looked at him. “You did all this... for me?”
Saint nodded, his smile faint but genuine. “I know how much you wanted them. I just wanted to make you happy.”
Tears blurred Shin’s vision as he set the box aside and grabbed Saint’s hand. “You idiot,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “You didn’t have to do this. I don’t care about the cleats — I care about you. ”
“I just... wanted you to have something special,” Saint murmured. “You deserve it, Shin.”
Shin leaned forward, resting his forehead against Saint’s. “You’re what’s special, Saint. You’re everything to me. Don’t you get that?”
Saint’s eyes softened, and for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to relax.
“Okay,” he whispered.
Shin pulled back, his gaze firm. “Promise me you’ll take better care of yourself. No more of this, okay? We’ll figure everything out together.”
“I promise,” Saint said, his voice steady despite his exhaustion.
And for the first time in weeks, Shin believed him.
Saint was discharged from the hospital two days later, looking fragile but relieved to be back in their small, familiar apartment. Shin had insisted on carrying everything, even Saint’s light hospital bag. He hovered so closely around Saint that it would’ve been annoying under any other circumstances.
The apartment felt different now — warmer, almost — but the lingering tension from their unspoken feelings weighed heavily in the air. Shin refused to let Saint do anything.
“Sit down,” Shin ordered the moment they walked in.
“Shin, I’m fine. I can at least —”
“ Sit. ”
Saint sighed, dropping onto the couch like an obedient puppy. Shin marched into the kitchen, the clatter of pots and pans quickly filling the apartment.
“Don’t even think about sneaking in here,” Shin called out, as if reading Saint’s mind.
A faint smile tugged at Saint’s lips. Shin’s determination to take care of him was endearing, even if it felt unnecessary. He leaned back against the couch, exhaustion still lingering in his bones.
A few minutes later, Shin emerged with a tray of food — a steaming bowl of soup, rice, and freshly sliced fruit.
“Eat,” Shin demanded, setting the tray on the coffee table.
Saint chuckled softly. “You’re scary when you’re like this, you know that?”
“Good,” Shin muttered, crossing his arms. “Maybe you’ll actually listen to me for once.”
Saint’s smile faded as he picked up the spoon. “I’m sorry for worrying you,” he said quietly.
Shin sat down beside him, watching closely as Saint took a bite of the soup. “You should be,” Shin said, his tone softer now. “Do you have any idea how scared I was? When I found you...” He trailed off, his voice breaking.
Saint put the spoon down and turned to face him. “I never wanted to hurt you, Shin. You’re the most important person in my life. Everything I did was for you.”
Shin’s eyes widened, his breath hitching. “Saint, you didn’t have to...”
“I did,” Saint interrupted gently. “Because I wanted to. Because you deserve it. You’ve worked so hard to get where you are, and I just — I wanted to give you something to show how proud I am of you.”
Shin swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to his hands. “You idiot,” he muttered. “Do you think I care about the cleats more than I care about you?”
Saint blinked, caught off guard by the raw emotion in Shin’s voice.
“I’d trade a hundred pairs of cleats if it meant you’d take care of yourself,” Shin continued, his voice rising slightly. “You scared me, Saint. I thought —” He shook his head, unable to finish the sentence.
Saint reached out, hesitating for a moment before placing a hand on Shin’s arm. “I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice steady. “I promise I’ll do better. For you.”
Shin looked up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You better,” he said, his voice trembling. “Because I can’t lose you, Saint. I won’t.”
A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator.
Then, slowly, Shin leaned forward, resting his forehead against Saint’s shoulder.
“Don’t scare me like that again,” Shin whispered.
Saint’s heart ached at the vulnerability in Shin’s voice. He wrapped an arm around him, holding him close. “I won’t,” he promised. “I’ll take care of myself. I’ll make sure I’m here for you — for as long as you need me.”
Shin didn’t move for a long moment, and when he finally pulled away, there was a faint smile on his face.
“You’re impossible,” Shin muttered, but his tone was lighter now.
“And you’re stubborn,” Saint shot back, grinning.
Shin snorted, shaking his head. “I guess we’re stuck with each other, huh?”
“Forever,” Saint said without hesitation.
The days that followed were different. Shin made sure Saint ate properly, rested, and didn’t overwork himself. Saint, in turn, found new ways to show his support, without sacrificing his health.
When Shin wore the cleats for his first professional game, Saint was there in the stands, cheering louder than anyone else. Shin scored the winning goal that day, and when he looked up at the crowd, his eyes immediately found Saint’s.
As the years passed, their bond only grew. Saint became Shin’s agent, standing by his side as Shin’s career soared. They were partners in every sense of the word — leaning on each other, supporting each other, and always putting each other first.
Because at the end of the day, they were more than best friends, they both always knew that.
They were each other’s everything.