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Hearing a knock on his door wasn’t exactly what Shin had expected in the middle of an ordinary Wednesday night. Or Thursday morning, technically, as when he checked, the clock read 2:12 a.m.
Yet, that muffled sound spreading through the oak wood of his front door and reverberating in the dead quiet of his house sounded too real to be just a figment of his exhausted brain.
He blinked against the darkness, eyes adjusting to the black void of the night swallowing even that flimsy ray of moonlight fighting to seep through the curtains.
Turning the lights on, he tossed the thick blankets to the side as quietly as possible, making sure the old, creaky bed wouldn’t make too much noise as he slowly got up.
He didn’t know why he did it, there was no one else in the house anyway as his mom and Chingching had left that morning for a little three day trip to Grandma’s. Force of habit probably, something he picked up after his little sister was born and never quite lost.
His bare feet padded across the cold floor, along the stairs connecting the two levels of the house, each step taking him closer to the answer.
One he wasn't sure he was ready for as the thick slab of wood separating him from it gave in to the soft pressure of his hand twisting the old, squeaky doorknob.
The door finally opened, and Shin began to think he was still somehow sleeping, that the sight before him was nothing but a dream.
A very cruel dream.
For a moment, he genuinely thought he was hallucinating, that his mind was so tired it had produced the most absurd of situations to let him know it wasn’t real, that what he was seeing would’ve never actually happened.
Then, why did the man in front of him seem so real?
Why did that slumped figure holding his weight on the threshold loom over him with such a strong presence?
Why was the rich chocolate of his eyes so achingly warm in the cold darkness of the night?
Why was Saint Thamnithit Nitiroj standing in front of his house, covered in bruises and drenched in blood?
Shin's hand froze mid-air, his entire body petrified while the dim glow of his hallway lamp illuminated the mess that was Saint’s face.
His right eye was dark, swollen, chocolate and chestnut surrounded by a purple so deep any monkshood flower would’ve been jealous of such a rich shade, scarlet streaks bloomed like spider lilies in a snowy field beneath a hurt but seemingly not broken nose, pale lips split raw, and knuckles so torn up they still glistened with fresh crimson under the faint, mellow light.
What in the actual fuck?
Shin might’ve as well asked that. He wanted to. Wanted to let the waterfall of words and questions run free and spill from his lips.
Instead, all he did was stare. Stare at the mess Saint was, and feel the one coming to life inside of him as his heart hammered loud in his ears.
“If you’re looking for the hospital, you’re in the wrong place,” he managed to say after a silence that went on too long for his liking, a deadpan look on his face in the hopes of masking his shock with carefully fabricated neutrality.
But as his gaze dragged over Saint, taking in all the shades of red decorating his skin, his hair and clothes, something inside of Shin twisted, gnawing at his stomach.
Something stupidly close to worry.
He rejected that thought immediately.
“Would’ve never guessed,” Saint hissed, a hint of sarcasm shining through the tight grit of his teeth.
Give it to the one and only Saint being sarcastic while looking thoroughly battered.
“What happened to you?”
It came out with a sigh. Too calm and detached for how much those words had fought to break out from the confines of Shin’s mouth.
With his arms crossed, Shin waited for a response that wouldn’t have come.
Not if he knew the man in front of him half as well as he used to.
Saint’s jaw clenched, muscle jumping under the river of red running along.
Shin’s prediction was confirmed a second later.
“Why don’t you stop interrogating me and let me in?”
The not so veiled bite in Saint’s tone didn’t faze Shin in the slightest, and the look he pinned him with hopefully was enough to convey precisely that.
He debated with himself on whether letting Saint in and get this over with as fast and soon as possible, or punch him right in his dumb fucking face and tell him to go fuck himself and die in a ditch somewhere far away from him.
The last option was especially tempting.
Saint would’ve deserved it after all.
After what he did.
He stepped aside regardless, watching as Saint strolled inside his living room with quiet, measured steps.
As he passed, Shin noticed how much blood coated his hands, staining the cuffs of his sweatshirt, its crimson tint shining under the weak moonlight like a cursed ruby.
Something in his chest jumped.
Something that hadn’t worked right for a long time.
“Exactly like I remember it,” Saint muttered, glancing around and letting his eyes wander over every surface the light could reach, presenting him with a view of the space he had once called home more often than not.
“Cut the crap and start explaining.”
At that, Saint stopped, his mindless pacing halting as he turned to Shin fully.
The weight of his presence settled in Shin’s stomach like a punch to the gut. If it was because of him or the state his face was, Shin didn’t know. Didn’t want to dig into that thought any deeper.
His mind was already too full of him, he didn’t need Saint to take up even more space in there.
Shin wouldn’t have let him.
Saint cocked a brow, the faintest shadow of amusement dancing in his eyes.
“Not even a moment to get comfortable before the interrogation?”
The calmness, the utter ease with which he said it, like they were merely talking about the weather or catching up over coffee, made Shin’s self-control waver, a scowl settling on his features.
“It’s the middle of the fucking night, you’re dripping literal blood on my floor, and I’m supposed to be asleep. I don’t have time to let you ‘get comfortable’—”
“But you weren’t.”
Whatever he was about to say died right in Shin’s throat.
Saint’s interruption lingered heavy in the air, letting silence fall like a thick coat of tainted snow.
“What?” Shin blinked.
“You weren’t.”
“I wasn’t what.”
“Sleeping.”
Fucking Saint.
Was Shin that easy to read? Was he so much of an open book that just one glance at him revealed things to Saint that others wouldn’t have even noticed?
A wave of frustration washed over him, his shoulders holding a tension that had no damn reason being there.
Because Saint was right. He was always right.
And Shin hated it.
Saint shouldn’t have that kind of ability.
Not anymore.
“You answered the door too fast,” Saint went on matter-of-factly, “And the bags under your eyes are telling me you haven’t been sleeping for days, actually. Why’s that?”
Shin’s fingers twitched.
He hadn’t had a decent night of rest in years to be frank, but he wasn't going to tell Saint that.
How was he supposed to explain to the very cause of his insomnia that he couldn’t sleep because of him?
He couldn’t.
So he didn’t.
“That’s none of your business.”
The smallest grin tugged the corners of Saint’s mouth, broken lip protesting under the unwelcome stretch.
“Touché.”
Shin let out a heavy exhale, his eyes flickering over Saint once again, skimming over the bruises swelling his face like he couldn’t not focus on the mayhem morphing his features.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, the beginning of a headache thrumming insistently at his temples.
“Are we going to address the elephant in the room or should we keep pretending?”
The golden specks of Saint’s eyes turned cold suddenly, freezing ice followed by a darkness that held more than any words could ever begin to convey.
An expression Shin couldn’t understand. Not completely, at least.
It was gone as soon as it appeared.
“I just need you to fix it.”
“Fix it? Fix it how?” a humorless chuckle left Shin’s throat, “Who do you take me for? Meredith Grey?”
“Chingching says you’re even better.”
Those words left Shin stunned. Not because of their meaning per se, but because Saint seemed to genuinely believe them.
Because the small, barely there smile on his bloodied mouth was so sincere in his fleetingness that the knot in Shin’s stomach became ten times tighter.
He tried to steady his breathing, gulping down all the useless nonsense that threatened to spill out uncontrollably.
“Chingching says that because she’s my sister and I take care of her when she has her colds,” he met Saint’s eyes in a firm glance, “I’m no nurse, Saint.”
Saint held Shin’s gaze, a veil of something clouding the warm coffee of his irises.
Something Shin couldn’t quite place.
“I can’t go to the hospotal. They’ll call my dad. They’ll ask questions.”
Shin cocked an eyebrow in deadpan.
“And you thought I wouldn’t?”
“You never used to.”
The silence that followed was heavy, heavier than the words that came out of Saint’s mouth.
For a moment, Shin stilled. Frozen.
In place, as his body shut down completely, limbs and lungs ceasing their normal fucntion.
In time, as his mind started to travel to a place so far and so back his memories were barely more than a blur.
“What?” Shin breathed barely above a whisper.
Saint’s jaw tightened for a second before he spoke again.
“You think I forgot? Every time I was an idiot and got myself hurt, you’d patch me up, and never asked how or why I injured myself because you were afraid of what the answer might’ve been,” he let out an empty laugh, tilting his head slightly as if the memory was something distant and fragile before his gaze emptied as fast as it had lit up, “Then life happened and…you stopped.”
Shin stood there, right in the middle of the room, staring at the man in front of him and feeling a sharp pang in his chest, like Saint had reached right inside and pressed on an old bruise Shin had forgotten was even there.
Because he remembered it, too.
He remembered it all too well.
The way Saint would show up to his house, face bruised for reasons Shin didn’t even want to imagine or knees scraped raw from a fall, acting all tough but leaning into every single touch when Shin carefully tended to him.
Shin remembered how easy it had been to care about Saint back then. Before things changed.
Before the distance between them became so immeasurable he struggled to even believe Saint was there in flesh and bone right now.
Shin’s throat felt tight as he forced himself to meet Saint’s gaze.
“I didn’t stop, Saint,” he murmured, the words tasting heavier than they should have, “You just left.”
The corner of Saint’ mouth twitched like he wanted to smirk, but there was no amusement behind it.
Just bitterness and the barest hint of open vulnerability.
“Would you have said yes?”
Would he have?
Shin didn’t answer.
Because he knew. Deep down, in the darkest, most hidden and fragile part of his soul he knew.
He knew he would’ve never turned Saint down, pushed him away, refused him.
He couldn’t.
Even after all those years, even after breaking his heart and leaving him like he was nothing more than a carpet to walk on, Saint was like poison tainting his blood, his mind and every single waking and sleeping thought.
His own beautiful, personal damnation.
And Shin couldn’t do anything about it.
He was cursed, lacereated by the deadliest of sins and the sweetest of blessings.
He had been since the moment he saw him alone and sad swinging on that swing that always creaked and squeaked at their old neighbourhood’s park.
Before the gang, before the blood, before they learned that the world only respected the people who hit back harder.
Saint hadn’t looked up at first, just kept dragging the toes of his shoes through the dirt like he wished he could bury himself in it. Shin had sat on the swing next to him, without asking and without thinking. Not even a word was exchanged.
That day marked the beginning of their friendship, two lonely kids finding comfort in each other like the universe had planned to bring them together.
Shin remembered how Saint looked back then, like it was a photograph imprinted in his memory. The shaggy hair falling lightly on his forehead, the wide, sparkling eyes so full of wonder they reminded Shin of new-born puppies, that smile so bright and lively it resembled the sun itself.
Shin hadn’t realized he was already doomed, already too far deep in that feeling that made his chest all warm and fuzzy but that he didn’t know what to name.
It was only after, after that day that brought a permanent winter in his soul, that he realized just how damned he really was.
How could he forget the summer when it was all he had known? How could he survive the cold when all he had been given was warmth?
How could he live without the sun when it had been the only light in his life?
He tried to push it aside, to not think about it after everything Saint had put him through.
But it was impossible to ignore now. Not when Saint was in his house, battered and bruised, looking at him like Shin was the only person in the world who could help him.
Shin let out a slow, defeated exhale, trying to brush off memories of a life he didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore.
His eyes locked with Saint’s, his voice softening imperceptibly without his permission.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Saint's eyes dropped to the floor.
“Would doing that change anything?”
The answer never left Shin’s mouth.
Instead, he grabbed Saint’s wrist.
“Come on,” he sighed, fingers barely resembling a steady hold as he urged Saint to follow him.
“Where are we going?”
“The bathroom,” he answered without missing a beat, his eyes lingering on the mess Saint’s hands were, “You're not bleeding all over my living room.”
The second Shin flicked on the dim lighting, he caught Saint’s reflection in the mirror; a full, clear sight of his face.
“You look like shit,” he muttered, inspecting the injuries for a bit before opening the small cabinet beneath the sink where his mom kept emergency medical supplies.
“Thanks, Shin. Always knew you had a way with words.”
He let out a low chuckle but Shin ignored it, grabbing a clean rag and a bottle of antiseptic.
Shin turned back to find Saint already sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted slightly as he watched Shin with ease.
“How did you even get here?” Shin asked suddenly, narrowing his eyes. Between the battlefield that was Saint’s face, and the one permanently residing in his head, Shin didn’t even think about questioning how the other man managed to be there.
His walls were thin, he was sure he would’ve heard the sound of Saint’s bike, that mechanic purr he knew by heart that had filled his days and nights for years.
He doubted Saint could’ve walked all those miles that separated their houses—or whatever place he had been before materializing out of nowhere in front of Shin’s door—by the sheer power of will. Especially in that state.
But then again, it was Saint he was dealing with. Shin wouldn’t have been surprised if he had actually ran there just because he was too stubborn to ask for help.
Saint let out a slow breath before shifting, settling back against the wall with a lazy ease that felt entirely deliberate.
His movements were unhurried, fluid, like he belonged there. He stretched his legs out in front of him then, one knee bent, his arm draping over it in a way that made the veins in his forearm stand out just slightly.
The dim light caught on the sharp angles of his face, the cut on his jaw, the slight swell of his bruised cheek, the glint in his dark eyes that never quite dulled.
The corner of his mouth lifted, not quite a smirk but something close. His fingers, still flecked with dried blood, tapped absentmindedly against his knee as he looked at Shin, steady and unbothered like he wasn’t sitting there looking every bit the mess he was.
“I’m resourceful, Shin. I thought you knew that.”
The nonchalanche with which he uttered those words almost made Shin laugh.
“So resourceful that you got yourself beaten to a pulp, apparently.”
There was no humor in his voice, no amused lilt as his eyes met Saint's.
Saint’s half-smirk faltered when Shin didn’t return it, something foreign flashing in his gaze, but he said nothing.
A thick and heavy silence stretched between them, unspoken words lingering on Shin’s tongue like a tide threatening to rise, to spill over.
He forced himself to swallow them down.
He didn’t even know where to start, what to say, how to ask.
So he just stepped forward, damp cloth in one hand and the necessary supplies in the other.
The scent of Saint’s cologne—something warm and smoky, laced with the faintest hint of blood—wrapped around him like a blend of barbed wire and velvet while he moved to stand between Saint’s legs, the space between their bodies vanishing into something too thin, too charged.
Shin reached up, fingers grazing Saint’s chin as he tilted his head to inspect the damage.
He felt the moment Saint tensed, like he wasn’t used to being touched like this anymore. Like he hadn’t let Shin this close in a long time.
His skin was warm under Shin’s fingers, so smooth and familiar and real.
Their gazes locked and suddenly the room felt much, much smaller.
Shin tried to ignore the weight of that gaze, the way it dragged over him taking in every detail, the way he felt it down to the deepest part of his soul. That one corner of himself he hoped and prayed Saint would’ve never been able to reach again.
“Nice fit,” Saint uttered out of the blue, breaking the suffocating quietness.
Shin took a moment to let the words process, brows furrowing for a second before following Saint’s gaze downward.
His stomach tightened.
“Is that mine?” Saint asked quietly, nodding toward the old and worn-off oversized shirt draping off Shin’s frame.
One of his. One of the multiple pieces of fabric that was supposed to mean nothing to Shin but were still hoarding his closet.
He hadn’t even realized.
Saint’s eyes were still on him, on that treatourous cloth hugging Shin’s frame loosely and then lower, down to Shin’s naked legs.
There was something beneath that gaze, something that Shin didn’t even want to begin to acknowledge. Something that sent a simmering, unwanted heat crawling up his spine.
His fingers twitched around the towel in his hand, resisting the urge to tug at the hem of the shirt, to cover the exposed skin of his upper thigh left bare by his shorts, to shrink under Saint’s gaze like he had just looked inside of him and opened that drawer in his heart he had always kept locked and armored.
Instead, Shin tilted his chin up, schooling his face into something neutral and trying to not think about how his cheeks immediately felt too warm.
“I don’t know,” he lied, “Maybe.”
Saint’s lips curled up slightly, just enough for Shin to catch it before he winced, the motion pulling at his split skin. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes were sharp, watching Shin too closely, too carefully.
Shin turned back to the supplies on the sink, trying to ignore the way his pulse had picked up, the way his hands weren’t as steady as they should have been.
Saint let the silence stretch, let the question linger between them. But he didn’t push.
“Aren't you cold?” he asked instead, his voice lower, rougher around the edges.
Shin raised an eyebrow, a sarcastic scoff leaving his mouth.
“Suddenly worrying about me?”
God, even saying it out loud felt downright ridiculous.
Because Saint had asked that just to tease him, just to find another way to get on his nerves, to torment him. He was sure.
And maybe Shin deserved that. Maybe that was his punishment for having kept his hopes up for so long, for having clung to that speck of faith he had had in Saint and what they had. What they were.
But then again, what were they? What had they been?
Members of a lousy gang that went around beating people up? Friends? Best friends?
Something more? Something in between invisible lines, careful touches and secrets and laughter and tears shared under the covers of a bed that started to feel thiers and not just Shin’s?
Shin didn’t know. Nothing felt right, nothing could be enough to describe what Saint had meant to him.
The same way nothing, not one single thing, could come close to describing the excruciating pain he had felt when Saint disappeared, leaving Shin the cold after keeping him warm for years.
Fuck, could he be any more pathetic?
Why was he still thinking about that stuff? Why couldn’t he just fucking let go?
Shin didn’t want to think about the past, didn’t want to dwell in it.
That was before, that was a life thousands of miles away from him.
One where Saint had stayed. One where they grew up together, side to side. One where the man in front of him wasn’t an astronomical, gigantic, massive and colossal asshole that abandoned him like—
“I’ve never not worried about you.”
Shin’s thoughts ceased altogether.
There seemed to be no hesitation in Saint’s words, no amused edge and not a single speck of sarcasm in sight. Just the quiet certainty of an undeniable and unquestionable statement.
The breath Shin hadn’t realized he was holding escaped in a slow, uneven exhale.
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Saint now, not with the way he was looking at him like he saw every thought running through Shin’s head, every feeling Shin was trying so desperately to push down.
Shin held his gaze for just a moment more, enough to make himself regret it as the tempestuous sea in Saint’s eyes threatened to drown him.
Shin cleared his throat, forcing his hand to stop shaking as he slowly reached out, rag soaked into some kind of disinfectant he was struggling even to remember the name of.
No, his brain screamed at him, You're doing this out of pity. Nothing else.
But was he really?
He wasn’t sure he had the strength to answer that.
He forced himself to keep his mind on the task in front of him.
“This’ll sting,” he murmured, his voice just a tad bit strained, betraying the coolness he usually maintained.
Saint didn’t move, his face remaining impassive as the towel made contact with the open cut on his cheek.
But as soon as Shin’s hand reached up to gently hold his face still, his body tensed.
Shin swallowed hard, his breath suddenly shorter, every cell of his being hyper aware and buzzing with electricity.
He moved carefully over Saint’s cheek, slow and mindful, wiping away the dried blood with steady precision. He worked in silence, deciding to ignore the way Saint’s eyes hadn’t left his face even for a second.
Then he felt it.
The slow, absentminded movement of Saint’s fingers against his leg.
It was featherlight, almost imperceptible, but it was there. A quiet, hesitant touch tracing idle patterns along the naked skin of Shin’s thigh.
Shin wasn't sure if Saint even realized he was doing it.
All that he knew was that he wasn’t strong enough to not let it affect him.
Shin forced himself to focus on Saint’s injuries instead, but it was impossible to ignore the warmth spreading beneath those gentle fingers dancing on his skin, the way they sent tiny sparks straight through him.
This was the Saint he used to know, he thought.
The one who used to lean against him without a second thought, who used to tickle him to death when he was feeling particularly insufferable, who used to let Shin take care of him without hesitation.
But that had been before.
Before he started keeping his distance.
Before he started looking at Shin like he was something he wanted and something he shouldn’t have all at once, letting him in and throwing him back out right after.
And yet, his fingers kept moving, slow and almost lazy, drifting from Shin’s calf to his knee before repeating the same gentle pattern.
It was a mistake. It had to be.
Because if Saint had actively thought to touch Shin like that, he wouldn’t even have let the idea reach the surface. He would have buried it deep beneath that mask he always wore and had perfected over the years.
Shin’s heart started drumming in his ears.
“I can reduce the swelling, but it’s still going to hurt,” he said quietly, voice coming out steadier than he expected, masking the way his chest tightened, “Hold still.”
For a moment, Shin thought Saint might pull away. That reality would set in and he’d remember the careful distance he had put between them, slipping back into that detached version of himself.
He didn’t.
Saint just nodded, fingers still resting against Shin’s skin letting him take care of him like he always used to as he rubbed his mom’s special home-made ointment over the angry bruises.
Shin’s fingers brushed Saint’s cheek just slightly, delicate touch skimming over his skin, working and warming the paste in.
Slowly, the worst of the swelling started to fade.
“There. You’ll live.”
Saint grinned, softer this time.
“Shame. Thought you might’ve finished me off instead.”
Shin rolled his eyes, but didn’t comment. The ghost of Saint’s touch was still lingering on his skin, making words hard to find.
Before he could think better of it, his fingers closed around Saint’s hands. The fresh blood on his knuckles was starting to dry, but the torn flesh still glistened under the mellow light.
Shin turned them over, inspecting the damage with careful movements.
Saint remained completely still.
“You hit someone,” Shin stated, digits tracing the cuts gently.
It wasn’t a question.
Saint’s light smirk wavered, his expression turning unreadable as shadows flickered behind his warm eyes.
Saint’s usually composed expression was gone, replaced by something far more dangerous.
His jaw clenched, shoulders tight with unspent violence as if even now, long after whatever he got himself into, he was still standing in the middle of it.
“I almost killed him.”
Shin froze on the spot, his breath catching somewhere in his throat.
Saint’s words reverberated in his mind, heavy and suffocating, sinking deep into his chest before he could even begin to process them.
“What?” Shin’s eyes widened, brows knitted together as confusion and something far more unsettled creeping into his veins, “Who?”
Saint exhaled sharply through his nose, the muscles of his hands flexing under Shin’s touch.
“Ice,” he finally muttered, his voice laced with something lethal.
Shin blinked. Once. Twice.
The name didn’t register at first, not in the way it should have. Then, slowly, it clicked into place, and his head tilted slightly, skepticism flickering across his features.
“Ice?” Shin repeated, incredulity threading through his tone.
Out of all the people Saint could have gotten into a fight with, Ice wasn’t even on Shin’s list of possibilities. The guy was arrogant, sure, a loud-mouthed, insufferable excuse of a human being, but he wasn’t exactly a threat. Just a nuisance.
Saint’s face remained stoic as he nodded stiffly.
Shin’s brows met in a puzzled frown.
“What the fuck would you even have to fight with that dipshit about?”
“He thought it’d be a good idea to talk about you.”
A slow, creeping chill unfurled down Shin’s spine at the way he said it.
There was something about Saint’s voice, the deliberate way he formed each word, that made his stomach tighten in warning.
“Talk about me how?”
Saint’s jaw flexed. His eyes, already dark from exhaustion and anger, seemed to blacken further, as if the very memory of whatever Ice had said was enough to reignite the rage still simmering beneath his skin.
“Like you were some cheap little thing he could have whenever he wanted.”
An eerie silence filled the space between them.
Saint was still breathing hard, his fists clenched at his sides like he was barely restraining himself.
Shin could feel the anger emitting from him, fiery and electric, making the air in the room feel too hot and dense. There was something nearly wild in his gaze. Something barely tethered.
For a heartbeat, Shin couldn’t move. Couldn’t even think. The words sank into his mind, cold and distant, like hearing something meant for someone else.
But they weren’t.
They were about him.
Something twisted in his chest. An empty sort of detachment.
Because, really, what was there to be surprised about? Ice had a reputation. Trash talking was his favorite sport, especially if it was about people who refused to ‘surrender to his magnetic charm’, as he so liked to pompously announce. It wasn’t new. It wasn’t shocking. If anything, it was sadly predictable.
Shin exhaled slowly, crossing his arms over his chest in a way that wasn’t defensive per se, just uninterested. Unfazed.
“You threw fists at Ice because he said some words?”
Saint’s head snapped up at that, his blazing gaze pinning Shin in place.
The shift was subtle, but Shin caught it. The way Saint’s breath grew harsher, the way his hands twitched, his fingers curling like he was resisting the urge to put them through something. Someone.
Shin should have been used to Saint and his rough edges by now.
He had known him for years. Had seen him at his worst, at his most reckless and dangerous.
But this?
This was different.
This wasn’t just anger. It was something deeper, something raw and unchecked that told him Saint had barely held himself back tonight, and that part of him still didn’t regret it.
Saint’s voice, when he spoke, was razor-sharp.
“They weren’t just words.”
His tone was so final, so absolute, that for a second Shin almost hesitated.
Almost.
“Oh, please. I bet I’ve heard worse,” he scoffed instead, rolling his eyes and pushing down the strange, unfamiliar weight in his chest.
And he was sure he had.
But he had also learned not to fight battles that weren’t worth his effort, especially after punching the fucker straight in his mouth twice already for saying things. So Ice not learning a single thing from those previous interactions and letting his mouth run when Shin knew for a fact no one cared enough about him to listen, wasn’t exactly at the top of his list of priorities.
But Saint…Saint had never learned that.
Saint fought.
Saint burned.
And now, sitting in Shin’s bathroom, his knuckles still torn apart from the battle he had waged in Shin’s name, he looked at him like he didn’t understand how he could be so unaffected.
Like he didn’t understand why Shin wasn't just as furious as he was.
Before Shin could react, Saint had closed the distance between them in a blink, sitting up abruptly and stepping into Shin’s space so fast he almost got whiplash.
“You think I give a flying fuck if you’ve heard worse?” he near damn growled, his voice so dangerously low it sent chills down Shin’s spine.
They were close now. They were so fucking close, closer than thay had been in a long time, and Shin’s mind started struggling because of that information. Saint’s eyes were wild, furious, filled with the kind of rage capable of burning cities down.
“He was laughing, Shin,” his lip curled, his whole body coiled tight like a predator ready to strike, “Laughing with his pathetic little friends and talking about you like you were his to have. Like you were just some pretty little thing he could touch whenever he wanted.”
Disgust twisted Shin’s stomach, but before he could speak, Saint’s hand shot up, landing hard against the wall behind Shin’s head.
The sound echoed through the small room, and Shin felt the vibration of it in his bones.
He didn’t flinch, didn’t even bat an eye.
Yet, his heart stuttered.
Not out of fear, no.
Because Shin was sure, no matter how angry, no matter how much he lusted for blood and violence, Saint would’ve never hurt him.
He had not even one speck of a doubt about that.
Saint leaned in, his voice quiet yet laced with subtle snarl.
“I don’t care how tough you think you are. I don’t care if you don’t need me to fight your battles. That prick thought he could talk about you like that and still be breathing afterward,” his jaw clenched, his entire frame trembling with rage, “He’s lucky I let him live.”
Shin’s stomach flipped.
There was no exaggeration in Saint’s voice. No dramatics or empty threats.
He had meant every word.
That realization sent a sharp, unfamiliar jolt through Shin.
He wasn’t naïve. He knew more than anyone Saint had a temper, knew that he could be vicious when he wanted to be. But this wasn’t just about a fight, it wasn't about some drunken brawl in a dark alley or a petty grudge that had been simmering for years.
This was about Shin.
He stared at Saint, disbelief freezing him in place. The air between them crackled with something palpable, a dense, suffocating thing that made every breath he took feel labored.
Shin couldn’t remember the last time he had felt so acutely aware of every single inch of his own skin.
“You beat the hell out of Ice…for me?” his voice was slow, measured, more incredulous than anything else.
Saint’s expression didn’t waver, not a bit. His jaw was tight, eyes dark like storm clouds, but there was something deeper in them now. Something cold.
“I did,” Saint said, his voice dropping to a low rasp, thick with barely contained anger.
“Why?”
The word came out more forceful than he intended, but he didn’t care.
Something inside of him had just awakened. Something primal and raw.
His heart was pounding, something hot and restless curling in his chest.
Ice was an idiot. A loud-mouthed, arrogant fool who thought he could say whatever he wanted without consequence. But Shin had dealt with idiots before. He had put them in their place before exactly like he did with Ice. So why? Why had Saint taken it upon himself to handle it this time?
To make a spectacle out of it?
To dirty his own hands like Shin was some helpless damsel that needed defending?
Shin should be angry.
He should be horrified.
The fact that Saint had come that close to lash out completely—over him—should’ve had Shin running in the other direction, made him even more confused.
Instead, it made his pulse quicken. It made his body run hotter than hell itself.
There was something inside of him, something crooked and deranged that was drawn to this.
“You think I need you to fight my battles?” he forced the words out, voice lacking conviction.
Saint’s lips twitched into a twisted smile. A thing born of blood and rage.
“I didn’t do it because you need me, Shin. I know you don’t,” his words were barely a whisper, his breath fanning over Shin’s cheeks as he leaned even closer, “I did it because the idea of someone, anyone, talking about you like you’re theirs to own makes me fucking sick. Because no one talks about you like that and gets to live. No one.”
Shin’s heart thumped in his chest.
“So you go berserk and almost kill the fucking idiot?” he exhaled, his voice a thin line about to break.
Silence.
“Maybe I should’ve.”
Shin’s blood ran cold in his veins.
Saint’s breathing was still uneven, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline, but his eyes burned into Shin with an unreadable intensity.
“Maybe I should’ve let him bleed out right there on the street. And then you’d understand,” his gaze softened briefly, his voice dropping dangerously low, “Maybe then you’d realize just how far I’d go for you.”
Shin felt the room grow even smaller, the silence between them stretching.
Saint’s proximity made his body tingle, his pulse racing at the dangerous edge in his words.
Shin could see it now, clear as day. The bloodlust, the madness behind Saint’s gaze, the natural drive to destroy anyone who even thought about hurting Shin.
The ice in Shin’s veins melted in a second, simmering with a kind of heat he had never felt before.
His breath hitched in his throat, the words stuck there as he tried to process the storm in front of him.
Saint raised his other hand and ran a single finger down the side of Shin’s face, tracing the line of his jaw. It was slow, gentle, and when he reached his chin, he tilted his head upward, forcing Shin’s gaze to meet his.
Saint’s thumb brushed over Shin’s lip, almost tender despite the sheer ferocity those same hands were capable of.
“You don’t get it, do you?” he murmured, the words laced with a vicious sweetness that made Shin’s heart race.
“Get what?” Shin managed to utter, voice merely above a whisper.
Saint’s eyes burned into his. Cimmerian, fathomless, an ocean in the middle of a storm.
“No one gets to touch you. No one,” Saint rasped in a voice so rough it scraped against Shin’s soul, “Not Ice, not anyone else. Not while I’m around.”
Shin’s heart dropped to his stomach, his throat as dry as a desert.
He didn’t even know what the hell was happening anymore.
“You're telling me,” he gulped, struggling to keep his thoughts clear, “that you would kill for me?”
Saint’s eyes softened as they flickered over his face, tracing every detail like he wanted to memorize them. His gaze swept from the crease between Shin’s brows, the bridge of his nose down to the curve of his lips, lingering there for just a second too long.
“You think I wouldn’t?”
The tender yet lethal edge of Saint’s voice sent a slow shiver running down Shin’s spine, making the hairs on his arms rise.
There was no hesitation there, no dramatic theatrics. Just unfiltered certainty. As if the idea of killing for Shin wasn’t even a question. As if Saint had already decided long ago that he would.
Shin shouldn’t like that.
He shouldn’t like the way Saint’s voice dipped, like a whispered secret laced with venom. He shouldn’t like how, out of all the moments they had shared that night, Saint’s eyes had never been clearer than they were right now. He shouldn’t like how Saint seemed so at ease with the idea of erasing someone’s existence from the planet if he was doing it for him.
And yet, heat coiled low in Shin’s stomach.
Because for some inexplicable reason, despite the knowledge that any other normally functioning human being would’ve been horrified, appalled and absolutely disturbed by the words that had just come out of Saint’s mouth, he just couldn’t bring himself to be either of those.
He wasn’t afraid.
Not of Saint.
Not of the way his fingers skimmed over his skin like he was afraid Shin would’ve shattered just from that.
Not of the violent yet soft promise lurking beneath his words, the sheer devotion carved into his features despite the bruises and blood.
Not of the man who had sworn to protect him so many years ago and still did it despite the mess their whatevership had become.
That was the most terrifying part of all.
The fact that even after Saint had broken his soul, Shin was sure he would’ve never even left a single scratch on his body.
“You really want to know why I beat that piece of shit to a pulp?” Saint’s voice dropped lower, dangerously soft.
Shin could barely nod.
“Because that pathetic excuse for a man thought he could talk about you like you were some toy he could pick up whenever he felt like it. He thought he could say whatever filth he wanted and walk away untouched. But the second he started bragging about what he’d do to you if he got the chance? That’s when I blacked out. I started and I couldn’t fucking stop. And I went too far, yes, I admit that. But I don’t care. Because if I hadn’t, he would’ve thought it was ok to try again. Maybe next time he wouldn’t have settled for words. Maybe he would’ve thought he could lay even a finger on you, and I can’t—I won’t—let that happen. Ever.”
His grip on Shin’s chin tightened just slightly, thumb brushing his lip.
“You’re not some object for them to fantasize about. You’re not something they get to touch with their dirty thoughts or their dirty hands. And if anyone forgets that, I will remind them. And I will do it in the most painful way possible.”
Shin was drowning in those words, suffocating under the weight of the raw emotion in Saint’s voice, the violence behind his eyes.
But it wasn’t fear that surged in him. No, it was something else, something darker, something he felt too scared to admit.
“I can handle myself,” Shin said, traitorous voice fighting to come out.
Saint’s smile was as sincere as it was dangerous.
“I know,” he chuckled, the sound deceptevely tender, “I’ve seen you break more noses than I could count and threaten people twice your size until they were crying and beggin for their mommies like five-year-olds. But I’ll do it anyway. Because the idea of anyone hurting you makes me want to put my fist through their throat, and if you keep acting like it doesn’t matter, I might not be able to stop myself next time.”
Shin’s pulse was throbbing now, his knees weak, the weight of Saint’s words pressing against his ribcage.
He shouldn’t have liked this.
But fuck, he did.
And he also should’ve pulled away, shouldn’t have wanted Saint this close, this furious, this obsessed with protecting him. He should’ve told him to calm the hell down and stop acting like a maniac.
But the more Saint spoke, the more Shin wanted him to keep going.
The more he craved it.
Because he had never, ever, seen Saint like that.
Unhinged, unfiltered, completely and utterly gone only and single-handedly because of him.
“You’re insane,” he exhaled, no real bite nor fight in his voice.
Saint chuckled humrolessly.
“I know.”
Shin’s throat went dry, a strange heat pooling low in his stomach.
What the hell was wrong with him?
“You shouldn’t care so much,” his voice was steadier now, a weak attempt at detachment, at pushing back that fucked up part of him that loved this, “Not about what some idiot says about me.”
Saint froze.
The change was subtle but immediate, his entire body going rigid, his jaw clenching just enough for the muscle to tick beneath his bruised skin.
His grip on Shin’s face turned just a fraction firmer.
“Too fucking bad I do,” he exhaled sharply, his fingers trembling against Shin’s cheek like he was holding back from something. Like there was more he wanted to do, more he wanted to say.
His eyes flickered over Shin’s face again, searching, as if trying to find some crack in his resolve, some opening that would let him closer.
“I do care, Shin.”
A shiver ran through Shin’s whole body.
Something about the way Saint said it, like it was torn away from him, made his stomach tighten.
The words hung between them, heavier than they should have been.
Shin hated the way they made his stomach flutter.
I do care
Three simple words. Yet, their presence settled in his chest like a boulder made of everything he had never allowed himself to want.
Shin swallowed, pulse thundering in his veins.
“Why?”
Saint’s gaze never left Shin’s, something sharp and dangerous simmering in it, but not in the way that should have scared him.
No, this wasn’t anger. It wasn’t just possessiveness.
This was something else entirely.
“Why?” Saint repeated, his head shaking slightly as a grave chuckle left his lips, “Because it’s you, Shin. Because I don’t know how to turn it off when it comes to you. Because the thought of someone looking at you like you’re theirs—” his nostrils flared, his head shaking like he couldn’t even entertain that thought, “It makes me crazy. You drive me insane. I hate how much I think about you. How much I—”
He cut himself off, his expression twisting, like even admitting it was painful.
Like it was too much.
Shin’s chest felt tight, the walls of his throat like sand-paper as he tried to bring out the words.
“Saint—”
“No,” Saint interrupted, “You don’t understand. You'd never understand.”
He took Shin’s hand, gripping it tight and pressed it against his chest.
Against his racing heartbeat.
Shin inhaled sharply, his fingers twitching against the fabric of Saint’s bloodied sweatshirt.
“This is what you do to me,” Saint’s eyes bore into his, unwavering, relentless, “You’re in my head, in my fucking bones. And I don’t know how to stop it.”
The world stopped spinning.
Time froze around Shin, around those words that felt as incomprehensible as they felt crystal clear.
Because, for the first time in years, it felt like Saint was just being honest.
“I tried to stay away. I really fucking tried, Shin. I thought I could. I convinced myself it would be easier, because I am me and I break things. I ruin everything. And just the thought of doing that to you makes me want to crawl out of my skin, but I just couldn't stop it. I couldn’t fucking stay away from you. Not entirely—”
Shin’s chest tightened at the rawness in Saint’s voice, the truth spilling out in jagged, tortured breaths.
But the grip tightening around his heart like a vice wasn’t nearly enough to stop the avalanche of white-hot rage that started coursing in his veins.
So what? his mind was screaming at him, What am I supposed to do with this?
The anger, the frustration, the bitterness, the confusion, it was still there, eating him from the inside.
Then why did he feel so weak? Why was that backstabbing muscle in his chest threatening to jump out and lay itself at Saint’s feet? Why were years of animosity being watered down by sadness and pity so fast?
He should’ve been the one being pitied.
He was the one left behind confused and broken not knowing what he had done so wrong to be abandoned like an old, rusty toy.
He was the one who had cried blood for months, who had stopped eating, and living and breathing.
He wanted to be furious, livid, raging. He should’ve been. He should’ve turned away, should’ve rejected this honesty, this confession, this vulnerability Saint was giving him now.
Now that everything was already shattered to pieces. Now that it was too late.
He had to try, at least.
“Are you serious? Are you actually fucking serious right now? What the hell, Saint? What in the actual fuck!? You’re telling me you left me because you were afraid? That’s your grand explanation? Fear? You disappeared, you shut me out, you didn’t even acknowledge my existence because you were scared?”
“Shin, I—”
“No. Just—no. Now you shut the fuck up and let me do the talking.”
And just like that, for the first time since Saint walked through that damn door, Shin decided to finally let go.
“You don’t get it, do you? Of course you don’t. You were in your perfect little world while I was too busy getting my heart stomped on, right? You were happy that you finally managed to get rid of such a needless weight on your back.”
“Do you have any idea of what that—of what you did to me? Of how it felt being pushed away by the one person you never thought would hurt you? Disregarded out of the blue like some trashbag standing in your way? No, you don’t. Because you didn’t go through that. I did. I was the one left behind. I was the one collecting the pieces of myself and putting them together alone without even knowing what was happening or why. You think ‘I was scared’ is supposed to magically fix the part where you basically vanished on me? Give me back all the years of agony that lacerated me? Because it doesn’t. It makes it worse. So much worse.”
He hated how his voice cracked, hated how every word felt like he was carving himself open in front of the one person who didn't deserve to see inside him anymore.
He wanted to stop, to breathe, to not feel any of this excruciating pain consuming him down to his bones. But every memory clawed its way back up like it had been waiting years to be heard.
Saint’s eyes dropped like he couldn’t bear to look at Shin anymore.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? Protect me from what, Saint? You? Who do you even think you are? Some comic book supervillain? Get over yourself. Acting like the slightest breeze of wind would hurt me when half of the dickheads we fucked up, we fucked them up together. Sure, maybe I wasn’t the best fighter, maybe I got my shit handled more times than not, but I wasn’t defenceless. I wasn’t made of glass, Saint. I wasn’t—I am not some porcelain doll that cracks if not handled with care. I’m not fragile. And I sure as hell don’t need your ‘protection’ from anybody. Not even you—’
“But what if I had lost control? What if I—”
“Then I would’ve brought you back to me! In any fucking possible way!” Shin roared, the words bursting from somewhere deep and ugly and starved, “You think you losing control would’ve made me run? You think I would’ve been scared of you?”
His laugh came out ragged, disbelieving.
“Saint, I would’ve taken it. All of it. Every blow, every bruise, every stupid punch you think you could’ve thrown if that’s what it took to keep you by my side. I would’ve let you beat the shit out of me if it meant you’d stay. If it meant you wouldn’t disappear on some random fucking day and leave me wondering what I did wrong for three goddamn years. I would’ve taken every hit and waited until you let it all out. Because pain? Pain I can handle. Pain I know what to do with. But you leaving? That—that destroyed me in ways you don’t even have the guts to imagine.”
Saint’s eyes widened in horror, but Shin was too far gone to see anything but the spiral he’d held in for years.
“You talk like you were some monster I needed protection from, but I wasn’t scared of you. I have never been. I was there, next to you, with you, through everything. I stood with you. I chose you. And not even once I thought you would hurt me. I had not one single doubt about that. But do you know what actually scared me? Losing you. And guess what? You made my worst fear come true when you should’ve just stayed. Even if you thought you were a mess. Even if you thought you were dangerous. Even if you were bloody and fucked-up and angry and violent. I would’ve handled it. I would’ve handled you. Because I needed you, Saint. Even if it killed me.”
The moment the words left his mouth, it hit him all at once. The sheer, unhinged neediness he’d just thrown in Saint’s face with no filter, no brakes, and not an ounce of dignity.
He felt it like a bruise blooming beneath his skin.
What the hell did he just say?
God, he sounded like a total nutcase.
A pathetic, psychotic mess that had more than a couple screws loose.
Because every word that just spilled from his mouth like a raging flood was true.
It was the naked and harsh truth.
What kind of person did that make him?
What kind of twisted, broken thing did he become in those years Saint left him alone with nothing but memories sharp enough to split him open?
He could feel Saint staring at him, stunned, horrified, and Shin suddenly found himself hoping the earth would open beneath his feet and swallow him whole.
Maybe he’d said too much.
Maybe he’d crossed that invisible line that wasn't meant to ever be crossed.
Maybe this was the exact moment Saint finally saw how fucked up Shin really was.
But it was too late to take it back.
The words were out, festering truths he’d buried so deep they tasted like iron on his tongue.
He had always imagined what he’d say if Saint ever came back.
Every version was controlled, clean and detached. A band-aid ripped off, fast and painless.
He never imagined this.
Never imagined he’d strip himself open and reveal just how much he’d been willing to lose just to keep him in his life.
And now Saint knew.
And there was no turning back from that.
For a moment, Saint didn’t move.
He just stared. Stared with worried, wounded eyes that screamed things Shin couldn’t listen to.
“Shin…”
It wasn’t Saint’s usual voice. I was a cracked little thing, something uncertain and pained.
He took a step toward Shin like the space dividing them wasn’t already a cruel joke.
“You would’ve—You would’ve let me hurt you?”
It came out strangled, like the words physically affected him.
There was anger there, so much and so palpable that Shin could basically touch it, but it wasn’t aimed at him.
Despite what Saint thought of himself, none of his darker moods and actions were ever targeted at Shin.
It was all aimed inward. Towards himself. Always towards himself.
Shin let his head hang low.
Saint took that as an answer.
He dragged a hand over his face, fingers trembling.
“Fuck. Shin, no. No. Don’t—don’t say shit like that. Ever. Please, I beg you. Don’t even think about that. God, Shin, I didn’t know you’d ever think—”
He cut himself off, head shaking like wanted to chase away the very thought of Shin letting himself suffer just to keep a fuck-up like him to his side.
Then Shin felt warmth, the gentle heat of a pair of hands he could recognize by touch alone as Saint cradled his face slow, and so painfully gentle it felt like an oasis in the desert.
An hallucination so real it almost hurt.
“I would rather cut my own hands off than ever lay a finger on you like that. I would burn the entire world down before I let you bleed for me, because of me. Do you hear me?” Saint said, low and trembling, tilting Shin’s head up and glueing their gazes back together, “That’s exactly why I left, Shin. Because you were the only person I never, ever, wanted to break.”
“And yet here we fucking are.”
The room fell eerily silent, that last sentence like a spear through both their chests.
Saint didn’t move a muscle, his shoulders sagging under the weight of Shin’s words, gaze fixed on the floor somewhere between them.
He looked smaller, like the consequences of what he did were finally crushing down on him.
Shin watched him with something sharp and sick curling in his chest.
Saint sighed heavily, hands sliding down Shin’s face and falling right back to his sides, motionless.
“I shouldn’t have come.”
Shin felt the words slice through him. A punch right in the gut.
Good. Let Saint feel some of it. Even just a fraction.
“Glad we agree on that.”
“But I wanted to.”
Saint’s voice was too soft, too honest.
Shin hated it. He hated that it still made something in him twist.
“Why? To show off? To be my night in shiny, bloodied armour? To show me that you suddenly care? You come here, ask me to stitch you up after you beated the shit out of Ice because of some stupid comment, confuse the living hell out of me, make me suffer all over again and you expect me to just—what? Pretend like the past three years didn't fucking happen?”
Saint exhaled sharply through his nose, his eyes widening for just a moment. He looked taken aback by Shin’s words, like he wasn’t sure how to respond.
But he didn’t back away. He stayed right where he was, close enough for Shin to look into his soul.
“I don’t expect anything.”
“Then what do you want, Saint!?” the scream ripped out of his chest like someone had shot him, desperate, begging and so fucking pathetic, “What the fuck do you want from me?”
His throat was burning, his eyes stinging like thousands of little needles were forcing their way inside.
He tried to blink it all away. The pain, the sadness, the anger.
It only made everything worse. It made everything spill over.
A single tear broke loose. Lonely just like he had been.
But it didn’t even have time to reach his cheek before Saint brushed it away with an almost unbearable tenderness, thumb kissing Shin’s skin like a butterfly landing on a flower petal.
Shin didn’t know what was happening anymore, the fleble grasp on reality he thought he had was dissolving like salt in water.
His breath came quicker, skin prickling under the weight of Saint’s stare, his every glance burning through Shin like he was stripping him of everything he thought he knew about himself.
“What I want?” Saint repeated, his hand lingering on Shin’s cheek once again, warm, a little shaky and so infuriatingly right.
Saint didn’t answer.
His gaze dropped to Shin’s lips.
Shin’s mind almost blanked completely.
In the blink of an eye, the world shifted on its axes, wrath and suffering twisting into something just as dangerous. Just as deadly.
Saint’s touch slid from his cheek, skimming softly over the smooth skin of Shin’s jaw.
“Saint,” he pleaded when the pad of Saint’s thumb timidly ghosted the corner of his mouth.
“It’s you, Shin,” Saint finally spoke, chocolate eyes burning into his with the intensity of a thousand stars, “All I want and all I ever wanted was you. And I know I handled it in the worst fucking way possible but that doesn’t change the truth. And the truth is that I have wanted you my whole entire life.”
The words hit harder than Shin could’ve ever anticipated, reverberating through him like a shockwave.
The heat radiating from Saint’s body seeped into him, and he felt the rhythm of his heartbeat racing just as much as his.
He should be angry.
He should fight this.
Saint’s never been this straightforward with him, never shown him anything real.
So why now?
Why this?
Shin wasn’t sure he would’ve ever got the answer to that. Not in this lifetime.
But it didn’t matter.
Because there was something in Saint, something bare and completely exposed that Shin had tried so hard to ignore ever since Saint had cornered him to that stupid wall, that was now blinding.
And suddenly, the anger didn’t seem so important anymore.
Shin didn’t want to be angry. Didn’t want to keep holding onto the scars scattered across his heart. Didn’t want to push Saint away when all that kept him on his feet was this burning need to have him closer.
In that exact moment, Shin realized he could no longer pretend, no longer hide behind the walls he himself had built to keep Saint out.
He wasn’t going to fight this anymore, even if part of him still didn’t understand what ‘this’ meant.
It wasn’t just about the rage or the push and pull, the games or the distance. It was about something else completely. Something wild and restless that had been simmering beneath the surface all along, something he hadn’t known how to name until now.
The thumping of his own heart felt deafening in his ears, drowned out by the sound of his shallow and uneven breath.
The desire, the need, was overwhelming.
Yet, Shin hesitated.
The world outside of that room still existed. The questions, the hostility, the resentment. It was all still there, still simmering underneath the surface.
But then Saint took another step forward, his face so close Shin could feel the heat of his breath ghosting over his lips.
Saint’s hand slid to the back of Shin’s neck, fingers threading into his hair to gently pull him in, until all Shin could focus on was the presence of Saint against him.
“Say my name again,” he breathed, his voice thick and laced with a soft plea that made Shin’s stomach turn on itself.
Shin swallowed hard.
Everything that had once seemed so complex, so tangled, was being stripped away.
There was nothing left to hide. Nothing left to do but surrender to that force, that natural instinct yelling at him to just surrender.
“Saint.”
Saint’s small smile was felt rather than seen, his mouth pressing along the column of Shin’s throat, nose skimming the sensitive skin.
“You’re shaking,” his tone was soft, teasing, so different from the rampaging fire that Shin saw burning in those eyes piercing through his very soul.
“I’m not,” Shin tried to deny, his own voice betraying him with how wavering and small it came through.
Saint chuckled, pushing back enough to be able to look at him, his hand dragging up Shin’s side.
Slow, torturing fingers brushed against the bare skin of Shin’s thigh. Enough to torment him, to make his entire body ache for something he had already pretended long enough he didn’t want.
Saint leaned closer, his mouth hovering just above Shin’s.
“Liar.”
Shin did everything he could to tear his eyes away from Saint’s, to focus on anything that wasn’t the suffocating pressure behind his ribs.
Because he was lying.
His skin was burning like he had just caught fire, his stomac felt like an empty can full of butterflies the size of elephants, and he hated how easily Saint could unravel him with just a few whispered words, just a look.
Saint’s mouth was so close he could feel the heat radiating from it, feel the ghost of a touch that hadn’t yet landed.
“Tell me to stop,” Saint begged, voice barely above a whisper that sent a shiver down Shin’s spine.
His breath was ragged, his fingers curling at Shin’s waist as his entire body vibrated with tension like he was fighting himself, giving Shin one last chance to back off before he lost every shred of control.
Instead, Shin tilted his chin up, body arching away from the wall to meet Saint’s in all the places that made his head spin, closing that sliver of space between them completely, daring him.
Daring him to pull away now.
Daring him to walk away and leave him standing there like he always had.
Daring him to say something, anything, that would finally make this make sense.
Daring him to shatter whatever fragile wall was left between them, because he was done pretending he didn’t feel it too.
A slow, shaky breath left Saint, his nose brushing against Shin’s, a near imperceptible tremor in his hands as he fought the need, the hunger, the inevitable.
A fight, it seemed, they both were bound to lose when Saint finally let go of that thin thread holding him together and dived into Shin’s lips like a man whose prayers had been heard.
It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet.
Because Saint didn’t just kiss Shin.
He claimed him.
It was like the moment their lips had met, something inside of Saint snapped. His hands gripped Shin’s waist and dragged him against him, forcing every inch of Shin’s body to mold to his.
Shin gasped at the sudden feeling of Saint all over him, clouding his every sense. Saint devoured the sound, deepening the kiss immediately, as if he had been starving for this. For Shin.
Saint’s lips were bruising, demanding, his tongue meeting Shin’s and licking the inside of his mouth like he wanted to engrave in his brain every curl and caress that made Shin crumble.
He didn’t kiss like someone testing the waters. He kissed like someone who knew exactly what he wanted, and what he wanted was to ruin Shin completely.
Saint bit down on Shin’s bottom lip, the sharp sting sending a shiver down Shin’s spine, making him jolt and pushing their hips together.
Saint groaned into Shin’s mouth, his grip tightening like he physically couldn’t get close enough, like he sensed Shin’s knees threatening to buckle under the force of the desire running through both their veins.
Shin’s hands fisted in his shirt, clutching onto him like an anchor as Saint pressed him harder against the wall, one hand sliding up his side, taunting fingers trailing over the curve of his waist but never quite giving in.
Saint was holding back.
That realization sent a thrill through Shin that not even a shot of adrenaline straight into his heart could make him feel. Because if that was Saint with restraint, Shin could only imagine what it would be like if he let himself break.
His hands shot up, threading into Saint’s hair, tugging hard.
Saint let out a low moan against Shin’s mouth, teeth scraping against his lips as his tongue slid against his, demanding and relentless.
Shin kissed him back just as fiercely, just as hungrily, meeting every feverish movement with one of his own.
He wasn't the type to let someone take control that easily, but that?
This was something else.
Because even as Saint took, even as he owned every second of that kiss, there was something wild and desperate in the way he held Shin. Like if he let go, even for a second, Shin might disappear. Like he was something sacred.
When Saint finally pulled away, both of them were panting hard and heavy.
His forehead rested against Shin’s, his grip on Shin’s waist tight yet grounding. His lips were red and swollen from the sheer violence of the kiss, but his dark gaze wasn’t gone.
No, it was worse.
Because now, it wasn’t just anger blazing in his eyes. It was possession. It was obsession.
“You’re mine,” he hissed, his fingers pressing on Shin’s skin like he was branding the words into it.
Something inside Shin shook.
He wasn’t the type to be owned. Wasn’t the type to let anyone claim him.
But the way Saint said it?
Like it was a fact. Something written in blood and rage.
It made Shin’s pulse race.
It made him burn.
And maybe he should have pushed Saint away. Maybe he should have told him that he didn’t belong to anyone. Especially not to him. Not with the way he had toyed with him for the past years.
But instead, he just stared at Saint, pulse thundering, breath caught in his lungs.
Because deep down, a small, traitorous part of him liked the way Saint said it.
And that was the most fucked-up thing of all.
The air between them was thick, electric, humming with something neither of them dared to name.
Saint licked his lips, gaze dropping to Shin’s again, and Shin’s stomach tightened.
“You should walk away,” Saint murmured but his voice was wrecked like the very idea of putting space between them physically hurt him.
Shin didn’t move. Didn’t even begin to think about it.
His fingers slid higher, brushing along the sharp line of Saint’s jaw, and he felt it. The way Saint shuddered under his touch like he was unraveling. Like Shin had the same effect on him that he had on Shin.
“You don’t want that,” Shin whispered, voice barely there.
He didn’t want that, either.
Saint’s throat bobbed, his hands tightening on Shin’s hips, dragging him impossibly closer until there was no space left, until Shin could feel every molecule of Saint’s body against his.
Saint’s lips hovered, so close but not nearly close enough. His breath fanned across Shin’s skin, noses brushing while his fingers dipped beneath the hem of Shin’s shirt enough to tease. Enough to make his entire body ache with anticipation.
Saint hissed sharply, like the feeling of Shin’s bare waist against his skin was enough to send him spiraling.
His lips ghosted along Shin’s cheek before he dragged them lower, tracing along the curve of his jaw, the column of his throat.
His teeth scraped over the sensitive skin just beneath Shin’s ear, tormenting him and drawing out that blissful torture, savoring it as if he was daring Shin to snap first.
Shin’s fingers clenched in his hair, a shaky moan escaping before he could stop it.
Saint groaned at that, the sound low and raspy.
Shin’s grip tightened in Saint’s dark brown locks, guiding his head up as he crashed their mouths together.
Saint hummed, responding to the kiss with a kind of hunger that threatened to consume Shin whole. Deeper, rougher, with none of the patience he’d forced on himself before.
Saint’s hands slid higher beneath Shin’s shirt, fingers skimming over soft skin, and Shin gasped into his mouth.
Saint swallowed the sound greedily, pressing Shin harder against the wall and slotting one of his legs between his.
His lips left Shin’s only to drag lower once again, mouth hot against his neck, tongue tracing along Shin’s pulse point before biting down just hard enough to make his breath stutter all while his thigh pressed deliciously against the growing ache between Shin’s legs.
Shin’s nails dug into Saint’s shoulders, a breathy moan slipping past his lips.
“I like that sound,” Saint chuckled darkly.
Shin barely had time to process that before Saint was kissing him again. His hands roamed, mapping Shin’s body as if committing every soft line to memory, fingertips burning into Shin’s skin and tracing the curve of his waist before sliding up and up, just beneath the slight swell of his pecs, teasing but not quite giving in.
All Shin could do was hold on and let himself sink into Saint. Let himself fall.
He whimpered against Saint’s mouth, and Saint groaned, the sound vibrating through him like a tidal wave.
Saint’s restraint was slipping.
Shin could tell from the way his grip tightened, from the way his hips subtly rutted against his with every curl of his tongue.
“Fuck,” Saint muttered, dragging his lips from Shin’s mouth to his neck, sending heat spiraling low in his stomach, “You drive me absolutely insane.”
Shin knew he did.
Now, he knew.
He could feel it in the way Saint was barely holding himself together, in the way his breath came ragged, his fingers flexing against Shin’s bare skin like he was fighting some kind of war with himself.
A war Shin wanted him to lose.
So he tilted his head, giving Saint more access, silently giving him permission to keep going.
“Yeah,” he huffed, lips curved into a slight grin, “I think you made that clear enough.”
Saint chuckled against Shin’s skin, his tongue flicking out to soothe the spot where his teeth had just been.
“And I bet you like that, don’t you?”
“I like seeing you lose your shit over me?” Shin whispered, a bewildered laugh threatening to come out if it wasn’t for Saint’s lips eliciting a very different kind of sound.
“You like knowing I’d ruin anyone who so much as looked at you wrong. You like knowing I’d bleed for you. That I’d kill for you.”
The jolt of electriciy those words sent down Shin’s spine, through his entire body, should’ve scared him, terrified him to his core.
But it didn’t.
Hell, it fucking thrilled him.
Saint’s bloodied hands worshipping every inch of his skin made his head spin, the faint taste of copper on his tongue lit up every nerve of his entire being.
He was intoxicated. Saint ran like poison in his veins, clouding everything that wasn’t the prayer of his name taking over every other thought swirling in his mind like the unholiest of chants.
Instead of answering, Shin shifted against him, his hips rolling in the search of every bit of friction possible.
“Shit,” Saint sucked in a sharp breath, and then suddenly, they were moving.
His hands gripped Shin’s thighs, hoisting him up effortlessly.
Shin barely had time to react before his back hit the faucet, his barely covered thighs shivering as they made contact with the cold, pristine porcelain of the sink.
He gasped a little, legs instinctively wrapping around Saint’s waist and arms looping around his neck. But Saint was already there, his mouth on Shin’s stealing every sound, every breath, every thought.
Chest to chest, heat to heat.
Shin’s hands were frantic as they gripped the back of Saint’s neck, pulling him closer, deeper. Every inch of him was alive with the energy sparking between them, and he just couldn’t stop. He didn’t want to stop.
Saint’s hips pressed forward, enough to increase the contact, enough to set Shin’s entire body on fire.
Shin moaned into his mouth, and Saint groaned in response, hips rolling forward once again, stealing a curse from Shin’s lips.
The heat between them was unbearable, the tension coiling so tight Shin thought he might break from it.
Saint pulled back just enough to meet Shin’s gaze, forehead resting against his.
“Shin,” he breathed, voice ragged but serious, “If—We can—”
“Stop?” Shin interrupted him, a far from playful chuckle escaping him before his eyes locked into Saint’s with all the firmness he could master in that moment, “No. Fuck no.”
Saint stilled, his breath stuttering in his chest as Shin’s words hung in the air like a dare. His hands tensed around Shin’s thighs, the muscles in his jaw twitching as he processed Shin’s response.
Shin kissed him before he could even get to do that, not giving him the chance to formulate a thought that was the slightest bit too close to the idea of halting what they were doing even just for a second.
He moaned into Saint’s mouth, and the sound seemed to fuel Saint further, erasing every trace of what he might’ve been thinking.
Saint’s hands moved higher, gripping Shin’s hips and pulling him flush against him.
Shin’s body reacted instantly, instinctively moving against Saint like he knew exactly what they both needed.
He was already losing himself in the feeling, in the mess of hunger and desire surrounding them, yet there was still a part of him that wanted more, needed more. A part that burned with a scorching desperate fire.
His hands slid down Saint’s chest, over the taut muscles, until they found his belt.
His fingers shook slightly, but he didn’t care. He wasn’t going to stop.
Saint’s breath trembled as Shin’s fingers brushed against the cold metal buckle, his head lolling forward to nuzzle the curve of Shin’s neck.
“Fuck,” he groaned, hands sliding up, fingers tracing the length of Shin’s torso until they stopped right at his sternum where he splained them, teasing thumbs grazing at Shin’s nipples enough to drive him insane.
Shin tugged at his belt, desperation laced in every movement.
“Stop,” he repeated, accompanied by a shaky breathless laugh and an almost mocking lilt to his tone, like he couldn’t believe that word ever leaving Saint’s mouth, “Does it look like I want to?”
The words seemed to hit Saint like a wrecking ball, crashing over him and bulldozing their way through that wall of control he always kept up, letting something darker than night itself ooze from the cracks.
It was like Shin had given him permission to lose it, to stop holding back.
A twisted grin bloomed on Shin’s lips.
He slid his hands under Saint’s hoodie, fingers tracing the hard lines of his chest, the muscles beneath his skin twitching under that touch.
Saint let out a low groan as Shin pulled at the fabric, lifting it over his head in one swift motion.
Then his fingers went back to fumble with Saint’s jeans, desperate now, needy beyond comprehension.
Saint didn’t stop him this time. His mouth found Shin’s again, hot and possessive, tongues dancing in a way that made Shin’s body light up like a firework.
He could feel him, could feel Saint hot and hard pressed against him and it sent him spiraling, his brain unable to form any cohesive thought just as his lungs ceased their regular function of providing him with air to breathe.
“Shin,” Saint whimpered against his lips in an uneven breath while his hands worked on Shin’s shirt, pushing it up over his head.
The cold air hit Shin’s bare skin immediately, sending goosebumps through his whole body. The contrast between that and the scorching flame that was Saint’s body pressing into his made his head spin.
“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” Saint’s voice was thick with admiration and awe as he whispered the praise right onto Shin’s lips, like the words had slipped out before he could stop them.
His gaze roamed over Shin slowly, hungrily, as if he were committing every inch of him to memory, like he wanted to burn that image into his mind and keep it there forever.
His eyes traced the delicate dip of Shin’s collarbone, the soft rise and fall of his chest, lingering shamelessly on the way his nipples hardened under the attention, the goosebumps that scattered across Shin’s skin like Saint’s words had physically touched him.
His fingers twitched on Shin’s thighs, like he was barely restraining himself from running his hands over every inch of bare skin he could find.
“Fuck,” he breathed, almost to himself, “Look at you.”
There was something almost reverent in the way he said it. Like Saint wasn’t just admiring Shin, but worshiping him. Like the very sight of Shin had unraveled something in him, something raw and uncontrollable.
And when Shin arched toward him, seeking him with a desperate, unfiltered need, Saint let out a ragged curse, his restraint hanging by a thread.
“Touch me,” Shin whispered, lips grazing the sharp line of Saint’s jaw as he finally pulled the belt free, the sound of the buckle clicking in his ears like a countdown.
“God, what are you doing to me.”
Saint’s hands, which had been teasing and skimming over Shin like he was afarid to break him by a touch alone, suddenly took possession. His grip slid up Shin’s hips, one hand brushing over his stomach and ribs before finally cupping his pec, thumb circling over the pebbled nipple in a way that had Shin gasping helplessly for hair.
“Saint,” he whimpered, impatient now, rocking his hips forward.
Saint let out a low, wicked chuckle against his ear.
“You tell me to touch you, and now you’re rushing me?”
His lips curled into something almost predatory as he watched Shin squirm, already lost in the desperate need thrumming through his veins.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin of Shin’s neck, feeling him gasp as he placed a soft kiss there before his mouth trailed lower, finding the delicate curve of Shin’s collarbone.
His tongue flicked out, tasting the warmth of Shin’s skin, and Shin couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped him.
“Fuck, you’re literally perfect,” Saint muttered as he savored every inch of his body like it was a precious treasure.
His mouth finally found Shin’s nipple, tongue flicking over it before his lips closed around it, sucking gently.
Shin moaned, fingers digging into Saint’s hair, his body arching toward him as his every nerve hummed with the electric heat of his touch.
Saint’s hands skimmed lower, burning their way down Shin’s stomach, over his hips.
“These, though,” his voice was gravelly yet tinged by the faintest smirk as his fingers slid beneath the elastic of Shin’s shorts, “are in my way.”
Said shorts went discarded a second later, Saint rolling them down Shin’s legs in one fluid motion and throwing them somewhere on the floor, leaving him in just his underwear.
Saint let his fingers linger, his thumbs brushing over the waistband like he needed to savor it, like this was some kind of unholy temptation he was trying—and failing—to resist.
With excruciating slowness, he began to pull down, inch by inch, dragging the fabric over Shin’s hips, down his thighs, fingers ghosting over his skin leaving a trail of heat and desperation in their wake.
His lips parted slightly, his pupils blown wide as his gaze followed the descent of that last piece of clothing separating them like he was watching something sacred, forbidden and unbearable.
And then, as if the sight of Shin completely bare before him was some kind of breaking point, he let out a sharp, unsteady sigh.
“Holy shit. You’re a fucking dream.”
Shin could barely even recover from the amount of things Saint’s words made him feel before the other man dropped to his knees right in front of him, hands sliding down the back of Shin’s legs to coax them apart, spreading him open.
Saint’s gaze flickered up, locking into Shin’s with something so wild, so utterly devoted that had his stomac doing flips.
He looked starved. Like Shin was something he’d been denied for too long.
Without hesitation, Saint leaned in, hot and demanding mouth welcoming Shin’s already hard and leaking cock in its wet warmth.
A high pitched moan left Shin’s lips as Saint groaned around him, deep and desperate like he had been starving for this, for Shin.
And, bloody hell, Saint was devouring him.
His tongue tasted, teased and tortured, sending a violent shudder through Shin’s body. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn't slow. No, Saint sank onto Shin like he had no other choice, like the taste of him was the only thing that could keep him from going completely insane.
Saint’s hands tightened on Shin’s thighs, fingers digging in, holding him still as he swallowed around him, the walls of his throat contracting and relaxing with every bob of his head. His tongue dragged over the velvety skin of Shin’s shaft before he released it just enough to let the tip of that heaven-sent muscle tease the sensitive slit, sending a helpless moan tumbling out of Shin’s lips.
“Oh my fuck—Saint.”
Shin’s hands shot to Saint’s hair, fingers twisting in those dark, silky trands as he suckled and lapped at his head and sent him into overdrive.
If he was trying to push Saint away or pull him in closer to bury his cock so deep inside that wicked mouth it hit the back of Saint’s throat and made him choke on it, Shin wasn’t sure.
He was too occupied losing every single piece of his mind.
“Doing so good,” Saint muttered, lips brushing the the tip of Shin’s aching and flushed cock with every syllable before turning his head to the side to latch onto the supple flesh of Shin’s inner thigh, kissing it tenderly, “So fucking good for me.”
Meanwhile his hand replaced his mouth, sliding and pumping up and down Shin’s pulsing cock with a dextrousness that made Shin’s eyes almost roll to the back of his head.
Shin’s grip tightened in Saint’s hair like a vice, pulling hard and almost painfully.
It only seemed to spurr Saint on more, making him groan against Shin’s already bruising skin before his mouth dipped lower, leaving open-mouthed kisses all over his flesh until he found what he was looking for, tongue tracing the tight rim of Shin’s hole carefully.
Shin’s hips buckled helplessly, a broken cry leaving his throat as Saint’s tongue started to explore, licking and teasing, helping Shin relax before easing in slowly past the barrier of tension and inhibitions.
The room filled with the unholy symphony of their moans; Shin’s trembling and uncontrolled, Saint’s guttural and satisfied like he had been waiting for that moment his whole damn life. Like he had been waiting to have Shin like that, fluttering around his tongue and falling apart in his hands.
“More,” Shin whimpered, barely able to control the desperate need in his voice as Saint licked and sucked and tasted and took everything he could take.
Saint just grinned against him.
“More?”
“Fuck yes.”
Shin didn’t think about what ‘more’ could mean, but he didn’t care. He was way past beyond caring.
Right now, he just wanted.
What he didn’t expect, though, was for Saint to pull away and just look at him.
And Shin would’ve definitely complained had his eyes not been blessed with an image that he was sure would take center stage in all of his wet dreams for the rest of his life.
Saint’s lips were slick and swollen, shiny with his own spit and Shin’s precum, cheeks sprinkled with the lightest shade of pink, hair mussed and messy from Shin’s fingers.
But it was Saint’s eyes that made Shin feel like he might’ve combusted right then and there. Dark, hungry, yet filled with the kind of devotion only an artist looking at his masterpiece could’ve been capable of. Like Shin was something untouchable, devine. Everything Saint had ever craved but never thought he could have.
Shin’s heart nearly beat out of his chest.
Saint’s lips curled, placing one last lingering kiss on Shin’s tip before he stood back up, his fingers drawing a path on Shin’s scorching skin all the way from his knee to his hip, his waist, his neck. Every millimiter of Shin’s body.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered once he reached Shin’s ear, fingers tracing the line of his jaw.
Only one word came to Shin’s mind, the only thing he needed more than the oxygen in his lungs, the only certainty amidst the fog clouding his mind, the only light at the end of the tunnel.
“You.”
The confession slipped past his lips like a prayer.
Because for what felt like the first time in years of lies to himself, confusion and anger he was telling the truth.
Shin needed Saint. He ached for him. He wanted him, every single part of him. And he wanted him now.
Saint’s mouth crashed into his, hot and hungry and messy, tongue pushing past his lips so Shin could taste himself on him.
And fuck, the way Saint kissed him so wildly and unhinged like he was seconds away form ruining him completely had Shin gasping and clawing to rip the rest of Saint’s clothes off.
Shin grabbed the front of Saint’s jeans, hands shaking from the intensity of everything swirling between them, mouth brushing against his cheek as he tugged them down enough to feel Saint’s skin on his.
Saint hissed, a sound blended between pain and pleasure, and Shin couldn’t help but smirk against him, the satisfaction of knowing he was making Saint lose control like this stirring something dark inside him.
Saint’s hands flew back on Shin in an instant, fingers sliding up and spreading warmth across his skin as he pulled him impossibly closer.
“Making me fucking crazy,” he muttered, teeth scraping Shin’s bottom lip, sending a shiver down his spine followed by the soothing heat of Saint’s tongue as he kissed the spot he’d just bitten.
“Then why don’t you do something about it,” Shin shot back, a desperate edge cutting through the words.
Suddenly a chuckle reverberated through the space, bouncing off the walls of that bathroom too small to contain everything Shin was feeling.
Shin barely had time to process the sound before Saint’s hands were on his waist, hold bruising as he tugged him forward so suddenly Shin gasped, the hard press of Saint’s own aching dick against his own making him moan hopelessly.
“Is that a challenge?” he purred, his lips hovering just over Shin’s.
Maybe it was. Maybe it wasn’t. Shin didn’t know and didn’t care.
Because the way Saint was looking at him was enough to destroy every ounce of self-control he had left.
Shin tried to work Saint’s jeans all the way down, his hands trembling and clumsy with urgency because Saint was everywhere. His mouth, his hands, his body and every single word rolling off his tongue, overwhelming Shin, distracting him.
“Need some help?” Saint taunted, amused as he watched Shin’s digits fumble with the damn fabric like it was his biggest enemy.
“Fuck off.”
But Shin’s bravado did close to nothing to help him steady his fingers, to stop the sudden rush of adrenaline running through his being and making it impossible to think about anything that wasn’t Saint Saint Saint.
Then, suddenly, as if he decided to take pity on Shin’s pathetic self, Saint's hands were over his, stilling his frantic movements.
“Slow down, Shin,” he whispered, voice dripping heat and breath warm against Shin’s ear while his fingers curled around his wrist, guiding him, “I’m not going anywhere,”
But that was the problem.
Saint was there, all over Shin, and still, it wasn’t enough.
It would never be enough.
Shin tilted his head back, body arching against Saint’s, desperate for more friction, more contact, more him.
“I don’t want slow,” he whined, every nerve in his body screaming, pulling him closer to Saint and making it impossible to think of anything else but the way he felt against him, “I want you to fuck me, Saint. And I want you to fuck me like you mean it.”
Saint inhaled sharply, like those words had punched the air straight out of his lungs. His entire body tensed, his jaw clenching so tight Shin thought it might snap.
“Are you—”
Shin’s mouth was on Saint’s before he could take another breath, stealing the last fragments of control from both of them.
Apparently that was the answer Saint needed.
His hands moved, rough and determined, finally shoving his jeans down, barely breaking the kiss long enough to do it. The moment they were gone, his hands were back on Shin at the speed of light.
Saint’s breathing was ragged, his forehead pressed against Shin’s as he held him there, pinned between his strong, scorching hot body and the cool marble of the sink.
The contrast of temperatures sent a shiver down Shin’s spine, but the heat radiating from Saint’s skin, from the fire burning in his darkened eyes, drowned out everything else.
The tension between them had reached its breaking point at last, years of push and pull snapping like a thread stretched too thin.
There was nothing left to hide behind now. No more walls. No more excuses.
Just this.
Just them.
Saint’s hands traced the path of Shin’s thighs before gripping them, spreading him wider for him as he pressed closer, harder.
His pants had long been forgotten somewhere on the floor, but the last barrier between them remained. Thin fabric that did nothing to dull the way Shin could feel Saint, hard and throbbing against him.
“These,” Shin tugged at the waistband of his boxers, “Off. Now.”
In one swift, fluid motion, Saint yanked the underwear down and kicked it aside.
The soft rustle of cloth hitting the tiled floor barely registered in Shin’s mind before Saint was on him again. Skin to skin, no more walls left.
A wavering gasp left Shin’s lips at the feeling of Saint pressed flush and bare against him, sending a sharp, electric pulse through him.
Shin’s body coiled in anticipation, his breath coming faster, every cell alight with urgency.
His fingers dug into the muscles of Saint’s back as he rocked against him, desperate for friction, for relief.
Saint let out a strangled moan, hands gripping Shin’s hips so tight he’d likely find bruises there tomorrow.
Fuck if he cared.
Shin wanted them.
He wanted to feel Saint long after this moment ended, wanted proof that this wasn’t just a fever dream, that Saint had unraveled for him the same way he had for Saint.
“You’re killing me,” Saint muttered against Shin’s skin, his voice rough and almost pained, “I’ve wanted you for so fucking long.”
The admission stole the breath from Shin’s lungs.
“Then do it,” he basically begged, voice wrecked with need, tilting his head and forcing Saint to meet his gaze, to see just how much he wanted him, “Just let go, Saint. No more waiting. No more fighting.”
“Shin, I—”
“Fuck. Me.”
Something changed in Saint’s expression at those two words said with all the firmness Shin could master, the last of his fight unraveling in an instant, fire igniting his spirit.
And Shin could see it in his eyes, the flames growing bigger and bigger as he poured gasoline on them shamelessly by rutting against Saint like an animal in heat.
Saint’s grip tightened, rough and unrelenting, his fingers pressing their marks into Shin’s skin as he lined himself up against him, breath coming in wrecked, uneven bursts. His body was flush against Shin’s, pinning him against the sink, his lips everywhere. On Shin’s neck, his collarbone, trailing lower before returning to his mouth, stealing his breath just as he finally, finally pushed into him.
The stretch was overwhelming, burning and intoxicating all at once. A stuttering pant caught in Shin’s throat as his body struggled to accommodate him, the sensation teetering on the edge of pain before it melted into something devastatingly pleasurable.
The fullness of Saint inside of him stole every thought from Shin’s mind, reducing him to nothing but sensation, nothing but the way Saint filled him so completely it sent a strangled moan tumbling from his lips.
His tender walls clenched around Saint, his body desperate to adjust to the intrusion, to take him deeper, further. To take everything he could.
Saint let out a deep, drawn-out groan, his forehead dropping to Shin’s shoulder, lips brushing the skin of his collarbone and leaving millions of tiny kisses as he slowly pushed himself further, filling Shin to the brim with every inch of his cock.
God, he felt so good, Shin thought as he clenched around Saint like he wanted to imprint his shape inside his body forever, Way too fucking good.
Heat coiled low in his stomach, the pleasure building too quickly, too intensely, his entire body trembling from the sheer force of it.
But beneath the raw need, beneath the desperate hunger, there was something else. Something deeper, something terrifying. It was the way Saint held him like Shin was his to claim, the way he fit inside him like he had been made for this, for Shin.
The way, in that moment, nothing else existed except Saint.
“Fuck—Shin,” Saint muttered, his voice shaking and thick with restraint, “You feel—”
He cut himself off with a groan, his head tilting back slightly as he exhaled, trying to pull himself together.
But Shin didn’t want control, didn’t want slow.
He wanted Saint and all the chaos that came with him, the destruction. He wanted the whole fucking tsunami.
“Move,” Shin panted, body arching and legs tightening around Saint, urging him deeper, harder, more, “Saint, please—move.”
A low growl rumbled from deep within Saint’s chest as he pulled back just enough to slide out before pushing right back in, snapping his hips mercilessly, the force of it sending a cry tumbling from Shin’s lips.
Shin’s fingers scrambled for purchase against Saint’s bare back, nails digging into the taut muscles as he set a brutal, desperate pace.
It was punishing, all-consuming. Years of tension, frustration, and longing culminating in this moment, in every sharp, urgent thrust.
Every plunge of Saint’s hips made him wail, each drag of his throbbing cock against his sensitive walls had Shin tightening around him, desperate for more, for everything.
“Fuck, fuck—” Saint gritted out, his rhythm faltering for just a second before he regained control, hips ramming harder, deeper.
His grip was bruising, holding Shin exactly where he wanted, keeping him helpless beneath him as he took him like he had been starving for this, like he was consumed by Shin, devoured by the need to bury himself so deep Shin’d never be able to rid himself of him.
The cold faucet of the sink dug uncomfortably into Shin’s lower back, pressing hard against his spine, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not when Saint was wrecking him like this. Like he was trying to carve himself into his bones, to leave a permanent mark on him in every possible way.
Then Saint lifted him slightly, adjusting the angle, and fuck, the shift had him hitting deeper, brushing that sweet spit inside of him, the pleasure intensifying so suddenly it knocked the breath from Shin’s lungs. Every thrust sent unfiltered pleasure ripping through his veins, pushing him closer to the edge.
“Saint,” the name spilled from Shin’s lips like a prayer, breathless and pleading, each syllable breaking around unrelenting thrusts.
A string of curses fell off Saint’s mouth, one of his hands sliding up, fingers tangling in Shin’s hair and pulling his head back just enough for their lips to find each other’s again in a kiss that was more shared breaths than anything else.
This is more than just fucking.
The thought slammed into Shin with the force of every single one of Saint’s thrusts, leaving him gasping, drowning in the realization.
This wasn’t just physical. It wasn’t just need.
It was him. It was them.
It had always been.
“You’re mine,” Saint near damn growled against Shin’s mouth, his voice thick with possession, “Say it.”
Shin could barely breathe, barely think.
He just let himself feel.
“Yours,” he exhaled helplessly, nails digging into Saint’s back and dragging down his spine to leave a mark of his own, to make Saint his as much as he was Saint’s.
Because Shin was Saint’s. Completely, entirely, devastatingly his.
And with the way Saint was carving himself into him, the way he molded and shaped his body like he had been born to, there was no way Shin’d ever belonged to anyone else.
Saint’s pace grew more frantic, erratic, as if the need was overwhelming him. He drove into him so deeply Shin could feel him all over, every atom of his body buzzing with how perfectly Saint fit inside of him, the sound of skin on skin filling the space with its filthy melody.
Saint was everything. A force of nature, a storm that obliterated everything in its path, and Shin was being swept away by it.
Shin gripped him tighter, nails tearing skin, branding him as his and his only.
He wanted Saint so badly it hurt. Wanted him to break him, to ruin him, to fill him up completely until he could feel him right in his fucking stomac, break every law of biology and feel him in the back of his throat.
Saint’s rhythm faltered, hips losing their tempo as the raw intensity of his need took over.
His hands were everywhere. On Shin’s hips, his back, his ass, always pulling him closer, holding him tighter, as if he needed to be even more connected to him, to merge with Shin in every way possible.
“So fucking good,” Saint moaned, the words torn from him as his thrusts became even more frantic, more relentless, “So perfect. So fucking perfect for me, baby.”
“Fuck, Saint,” Shin cried again, tears welling his eyes, body quaking as he felt that coil inside of him tighten. “More. Give me more. Please.”
A broken moan left Saint, his hips snapping impossibly harder, hitting that spot deep inside Shin that had him seeing stars and nearly scream in the quietness of the night.
The unforgiving pace left Shin gasping for air, making everything else fade away until there was nothing but Saint.
“Come for me, baby. Let me feel you.”
The words were the final push Shin needed.
The pleasure crashed over him like a tidal wave, overwhelming and all-consuming, sweeping him under the surface until he was gasping for air, his body convulsing around Saint. Every nerve in Shin’s body felt like it was on fire as the wave of ecstasy crested, breaking him into a million fragmented pieces.
Shin couldn’t speak, couldn’t think, only moan and whimper and cry out as he got lost in the sensations, in the way Saint filled him, the way his body collided with Shin’s in such an intense rhythm that it was as if his very soul was caught in the storm. The bliss that pervaded him was exhilarating, every inch of him trembling, shaking as his release tore through him, coating his stomach and making every muscle in his body quake and thrum.
It was too much in the best way. So perfect it left him breathless and completely undone.
Saint shattered right after, the way Shin clenched uncontrollably around his cock pushing him over the edge, his pace faltering for a split second before he thrusted into Shin one last time.
Saint’s entire body shook with the force of it, thick pulses of heat painting Shin’s insides, and Shin felt the last remnants of the storm unravel inside him, skin slick with sweat as they both came down from the high.
For a long moment, neither of them moved, the only sound in the room consisting in the harsh mingling of their breaths, the distant hum of the night outside.
Their bodies remained tangled together, skin glistening under the pale moonlight, hearts hammering in unison.
Saint’s hands softened against Shin’s skin, his fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against his back as he came down from the high.
Shin could feel his lips press slowly and gently against his shoulder, almost reverent in their softness.
Such a stark contrast to the chaos of merely moments before.
In the quiet, Shin felt his body begin to settle, the blazing fire of his climax slowly fading, leaving behind a kind of peaceful exhaustion.
Everything felt so tender; the way his limbs felt heavy against Saint’s, the gentle strokes of Saint’s hands on his skin, the quiet between them as the sounds of the night started to reach his ears again.
It was like a soothing calm after a hurricane.
But then, Saint tensed.
It wasn’t obvious, not at first. Just the faintest shift in his touch, the way his fingers stilled against Shin’s spine, trembling slightly.
Then a slow exhale.
“I’m sorry.”
His lips brushed the side of Shin’s face as he whispered it, the words barely audible against sweat-damp skin, breath fanning fleetingly over Shin’s cheek before his mouth trailed just slightly lower, pressing the lightest of kisses to his jaw.
Shin sighed softly, hand lifting to thread into Saint’s hair, soothing him, grounding him.
His other hand traced down Saint’s back, brushing the angry red marks he had left without even realizing it.
Shin didn’t know what Saint was apologizing for. Knocking on his door in the middle of the night? The game of hot and cold he had played for years? Rocking Shin’s world upside down just now?
Shin had no idea, but he could feel the weight of it into Saint’s touch, into every careful caress of his lips against his skin.
“Saint—”
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.”
Shin froze, words landing like a sucker punch.
His fingers, so gentle in Saint’s hair just seconds before, went still. His body, warm and pliant beneath Saint’s hands, suddenly stiffened.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
The phrase rang in Shin’s mind, over and over, each repetition hitting harder than the last.
It was like a bucket of iced water had been poured over him, like the heat of the moment had been stolen away leaving only a hollow kind of chill in its wake.
His stomach churned.
What did Saint mean?
Had that been a mistake?
Had Shin been a mistake?
A quiet, loaded pause stretched the space between them.
Shin swallowed, trying to read the hesitation in Saint’s voice.
“It wasn’t?” he asked hesitantly, merely above a whisper in the cold air of the night.
Saint exhaled a slow, unsteady breath. But then, finally, he lifted his head, just enough for their noses to brush.
His eyes, dark and conflicted, locked into Shin’s.
“No.”
Shin’s heart dropped to his feet, the glue that had held together the already broken pieces melting away under the weight of Saint’s words before the sound of his voice reached his ears again.
“Not like this.”
Shin's head snapped up.
Not like this.
Not a mistake. Not a regret.
Just not like this.
Shin’s pulse, which was still racing like a horse on crack from the initial shock, slowed just a fraction, the tightness in his chest loosening.
“What do you mean?”
Saint shook his head slightly, frustrated.
“I was supposed to worship you,” he murmured, thumbs grazing the dip of Shin’s waist as if to prove his point, “I was supposed to take my time with you, make you feel like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. I wanted to spread you out on soft sheets, take you apart piece by piece, make you come until you forgot your own damn name.”
His forehead pressed against Shin’s, his breath uneven.
“I wanted to spoil you. Make you feel so good that you’d never question how much I—” he stopped himself, jaw clenching, eyes darkening as his frustration morphed into something heavier, “Not just fuck you in a bathroom against a bloody sink. God, I’m such an asshole.”
His humourless chuckle echoed into the small bathroom like the ending note of a sad song, empty and lifeless.
Shin blinked, the words hitting him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
Saint’s self-loathing hung thick in the air, wrapping around the both of them like a noose, suffocating in the afterglow of whatever the hell they had been wrapped up.
But Shin wasn’t drowning in regret the way Saint seemed to be.
Because how could he have regretted that?
The way Saint had touched him like he needed him more than air. The way he had held him like he was terrified to let go. The way his body had fit so perfectly against his, like Saint had been made for this. For Shin.
No, he didn’t regret this. Not even for a second.
But Saint—Saint was spiraling, sinking into whatever twisted narrative he had convinced himself of, the one where he was nothing but a monster who had taken something from Shin rather than a man who had finally given in to what had been between them for years.
Shin wasn’t going to let him disappear into that dark, made-up place. Not again.
He reached for Saint before he could pull away, cupping his face in both hands.
“Saint, look at me.”
Saint’s eyes flickered open at the touch, searching into Shin’s like he was waiting for the anger, the resentment. Waiting for Shin to prove him right.
But all Shin gave him was the truth.
“You are an asshole.”
The words left his lips before he could soften them, and landed exactly the way he knew they would.
Saint stiffened instantly, his entire body going rigid against Shin’s.
Shin could feel the way his walls shot up, could see the flicker of something dark and self-destructive in his eyes.
Saint was retreating into himself, into that cold, isolated place he thought he belonged.
It broke Shin’s heart.
Because he knew exactly what Saint was thinking.
That he had ruined this. That he had ruined him exactly like he was afraid of doing. That whatever fragile thing had existed between them had shattered the second he let himself have Shin like this. That he was confirming every terrible thing Saint already believed about himself.
His grip on Shin loosened, his arms starting to fall away.
No.
Shin wouldn’t have let him disappear into his own mind again.
And, yes, he had meant those words to hurt, to hit Saint right to the core and make him feel at least a single speck of the pain he had suffered in the past three years.
But as much as Shin was still very much pissed, he was also a very weak man. For stupid, pathetic, puppy-eyed men named Saint especially, it seemed.
His fingers threaded through Saint’s hair, holding him there, refusing to let him slip away from him.
“You’re an asshole for a lot of things, actually,” he whispered, leaning in and pressing their foreheads together, lips brushing the corner of Saint’s mouth as they curled up slightly, “But not for this.”
Shin couldn’t see him properly, not with the way he was holding him as close to him as physically possible, but if he had to guess he’d say Saint’s eyes were closer to resembling one of the pinball machines they always played with when they were kids, flickering in a million different directions.
He could literally imagine the confused frown shaping Saint’s eyebrows. And he would’ve laughed if it wasn’t for the way Saint’s muscles locked up beneath his touch like he was terrified he had misheard him.
Saint lifted his head slowly then, noses bumping against each other’s as his lips parted like he was going to say something. But nothing came out. Just a ragged, trembling breath.
“Shin, I—”
“No,” Shin cut him off gently, his voice soft yet unwavering, a quiet command wrapped in warmth, his thumbs smoothing over Saint’s cheekbones in silent reassurance, “You don’t get to apologize for this. I won’t let you.”
“Wait, Shin, I need you to know I'm so—”
Shin didn’t let him finish. He brought their mouths together, lips slotting in a kiss meant to silence every doubt and uncertainty running through Saint’s brain.
“Tomorrow,” he said in a hush, leaving the addictiveness of Saint’s plump lips only when air started to feel absolutely necessary, “Tomorrow we’ll talk.”
Saying that felt like a vow, a promise. One that Shin would make sure to keep even if it meant moving oceans and mountains.
If there was even the smallest, slightest chance that after years of pain and longing he could finally have Saint, he would’ve taken it. No matter the cost.
“Then,” he went on, looping his arms around Saint’s neck and letting the faintest hint of playfulness bleed into his tone, “Only then you can apologize for being a total dickhead.”
Saint let out a breath, a quiet, humorless huff of something almost like a laugh, but his eyes never quite met Shin’s who could feel the tension lingering in his shoulders, right under the palms of his hands. Saint was still holding onto something. Guilt maybe. Regret. The weight of a thousand things left unsaid.
But Shin wouldn’t let him sink and drown into it.
Not tonight.
Tonight it was just Saint and Shin.
Nothing more, nothing less.
“Relax,” Shin murmured, tilting his head and pressing another kiss to the corner of Saint’s mouth, lingering there just long enough to feel the way he exhaled, the way his tension unraveled little by little.
He knew what Saint was thinking. What he always thought.
That this was something fragile, something he didn’t deserve, something he would break eventually just like he thought he had broken so many other beautiful things.
Shin's suspicions were proven right as Saint’s next words left his mouth.
“I don’t deserve you.”
Shin felt like he had been punched in the gut, the quiet, broken confession slipping from Saint’s lips heavy with self-loathing making his heart squeeze behind his ribs.
He sensed Saint’s hold on him faltering, hands flexing like he was preparing to let go, trying to pull away before adding to the damage. A damage that didn’t exist.
Shin let his arms slide from Saint’s shoulders, hands finding home once again on either side of his face, tilting his head up and forcing Saint to look at him.
Saint’s eyes flickered open at the touch, watery, pained and
conflicted. Stars drowning in an ocean of unshed tears.
“That is not your decision to make.”
Saint swallowed hard, his throat bobbing and mouth opening and closing repeatedly like he wanted to argue, like he wanted to tell Shin all the reasons why he thought he wasn’t enough.
Once again, Shin didn’t give him the chance.
Saint let out a shuddering breath against his lips and, this time, he didn’t hesitate.
His hands came alive against Shin’s, sliding from his hips to his back, up to his shoulders and down again like he didn’t know where to touch, like he wanted to be everywhere all at once.
His fingers tangled in Shin’s hair, guiding his head to deepen the kiss, pressing their bodies together like he couldn’t get enough.
A quiet moan escaped from the back of his throat, needy and desperate and so immensely relieved, like he was finally allowing himself to want this.
To want Shin.
“I don’t know how to do this,” Saint admitted, his voice rough, barely more than a whisper as they pulled apart for air, their lips never quite separating.
Shin’s hands slid into his hair, carding through the strands with slow, comforting strokes.
“Neither do I.”
And it was the truth.
Shin had no idea how to navigate that tsunami of feelings that had just crashed on the shore that was his heart. How to untangle years of tension, of longing, of a battle that was still raging in both their minds.
But it didn’t matter. Not now.
“What if I mess this up?”
Saint’s voice was quieter this time, almost small with all the worry it carried.
Shin’s mouth twitched slightly, a quiet breath of amusement slipping out as he pressed another peck to Saint’s lips, lingering for just a second longer than necessary.
Saint was always thinking three steps ahead, always bracing for the moment things fell apart. His mind never let him stay in the present, never let him just be. Even now, after everything Shin had said and done, he was already searching for the cracks, waiting for everything to shatter beneath his fingertips.
“You probably will,” Shin admitted, teasing but honest, “So will I. Neither of us is exactly perfect. But we’ll figure it out.”
Saint let out a slow breath, his thumbs drawing soothing circles over the soft flesh of Shin’s hips like he was anchoring himself.
His eyes slowly met Shin’s, something unreadable passing through them before a small, almost reluctant smile touched his lips.
“You make this sound so easy.”
A soft smile tugged at the corner of Shin’s mouth.
“Maybe it is.”
Saint let out a quiet exhale, shaking his head slightly.
“It’s not.”
“Then we’ll pretend it is,” Shin offered simply, his fingers brushing away a rogue strand of hair from Saint’s forehead, “At least for tonight.”
His touch was featherlight at first, tracing the gentle arch of Saint’s brows, smoothing over the crease that always seemed to linger between them, then ghosting along the bridge of his nose then lower, skimming over the sharp line of his cheekbone, following its curve with quiet reverence.
Saint barely moved, basking in the sweetness of Shin’s movements, on the way his hands felt on his skin after years of abstinence.
Shin’s thumb brushed over his lower lip and he exhaled, a quiet, unsteady breath that melted in the space between them. He yielded easily beneath Shin’s touch. No resistance or hesitation or poorly managed control.
Shin traced the shape of his mouth once more, lingering at the corner before finally letting his hand drop lower, resting right above his heart.
Saint’s lips twitched, and this time, it wasn’t a humorless smirk or a breath of disbelief. It was real. Small and subtle, yes, but real.
“That’s asking a lot.”
“Fine,” Shin rolled his eyes, nudging their noses together with a small grin before pecking Saint’s lips again and again, “One disaster at a time, then.”
Saint tilted his head, mouth chasing Shin’s with a kind of lazy warmth that send tiny, little sparks from his head to his toes
“You sure you wanna deal with that?”
The grip of Shin’s legs around Saint’s waist tightened, pushing their bodies flushed against each other as if that was even physically possible, face opening in a smirk.
“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”
Saint chuckled again, shaking his head, muttering to himself more than Shin.
“You’re insane.”
“That’ll make two of us.”
At that Saint did laugh, the beautiful, free-spirited sound reaching Shin’s ears and making his stomac flip like it was competing in the fucking Olympics.
And before Shin could add anything else, Saint kissed him thoroughly, passionately, taking his breath away and swiping away any coherent thought in his brain.
Tomorrow would’ve come, that was a certainty neither of them could forget.
And maybe things were messy. Maybe they always would be.
But for now, they decided to stay here, hidden by the cloak of the night and walls way too thin to contain the sheer power of their emotions.
For now, that was enough.