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“Does it still hurt? Your leg,” Saint asked softly, his fingers gliding down Shin’s ankle.
He watched his own fingers trace the pale skin, hesitant, as though Shin might shatter if he applied even a fraction more pressure. Outside, Wednesday night pulsed through the city as faint motorbike engines blended into the quiet of Shin’s room. Inside, the two of them sat on Shin’s bed, illuminated by the faint blue glow of the TV. Shin was engrossed in the latest edition of some game Saint couldn’t quite remember the name of—something with dark landscapes and eerie music. He played, eyes fixed on the screen, while Saint laid beside him on his side, watching the game’s character dive into random missions. Saint had started the evening sitting beside him, but at some point, instinct or curiosity had drawn him onto this new position, his face angled just right to catch the action on the screen. As he shifted around for comfort, his gaze accidentally caught on Shin’s ankle and almost instantaneously, an ache gripped his chest, leaving his stomach in knots. But even as guilt settled heavily inside him, he couldn’t bring himself to pull his hand away, his lingering fingers unwilling to break the quiet connection.
Shin glanced down at him, his face as unreadable as ever. Saint was used to those stares by now, knowing better than to read anything more into them. They don't talk about the past anymore, not really. It was too painful, too suffocating, or as Shin liked to say, “too depressing.” But sometimes, in quiet moments like this, Saint couldn’t help but let his mind wander back, the memories clawing their way to the surface despite his best efforts.
“You’re doing it again,” Shin murmured, breaking the silence without taking his eyes off the screen.
Saint blinked as Shin’s words snapped him out of his trance.
“Doing what?”
Shin’s gaze flicked over, calm and knowing.
“Being depressing.”
Saint looked away, sheepish, his fingers still resting on Shin’s ankle.
“I’m sorry.”
“Saint.” Shin’s voice was gentle, the single word carrying a weight that made Saint’s throat tighten.
“For everything. Again,” Saint’s voice was quiet, raw and jagged, as though speaking them aloud might break something fragile. “I know you keep telling me that it’s over, that we’re okay now, that I need to stop. But sometimes I just can’t. I hate myself for all of it, and I can’t stop being angry at myself for what I did to you, and how I—”
“Saint.”
This time, Shin’s voice was firmer. Saint froze, and it was only then that he realized he had started crying. He felt the hot shame creeping up his neck, a familiar helplessness twisting inside him. He hated that it was always him breaking down when he felt it should be Shin—the one he’d hurt, the one he’d promised to protect. Shin, his light, his anchor, his heart.
“Come back up here,” Shin ordered, his tone firm and absolute.
But Saint turned his face away, biting his lip as he struggled to stifle his tears.
“No," he answered, voice barely a whisper. His fingers stayed, still softly clutching Shin’s ankle as if it were the only thing tethering him to the present. He just couldn’t bring himself to let go.
“No?” Shin echoed, his voice tinged with exasperation. “Oh, so you’re defying me now? Whatever happened to ‘I’ll do whatever you ask of me’? Get back up here before I kill you.”
Despite himself, Saint cracked a small smile, the familiar banter tugging him out of his haze. He slowly looked back up, meeting Shin’s eyes.
Three… four… five seconds pass, the sounds outside Shin’s window growing louder in Saint’s ears. Distant traffic mingles with the sharp blare of a car horn, a reminder of the world carrying on outside, indifferent to the weight on Saint’s chest.
“SAIN—”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Saint interrupts, his voice shaky. He sniffles, swiping at his damp cheeks. “I just… need a moment to collect myself.”
He pushes himself up from the edge of the bed, feeling clumsy and raw, and makes his way back to Shin. It’s only then that he realizes Shin had turned off the game. The screen was dark, his progress paused. A part of Saint regrets that he didn’t get to see if Shin made it to the dungeon boss yet; he really was making good progress with it.
Shin shifts to make room and reaches out, pulling Saint closer by the arm until he’s fully on the bed. Saint sits, facing him, his heart aching as he meets Shin’s gaze. Shin’s eyes flicker over Saint’s tear-stained face, his own expression softening in a way that makes Saint’s chest tighten. Shin's hands move almost automatically, coming up to cup Saint's face, feeling the familiar warmth beneath his palms. In moments like these, Saint always feels so small despite his strength and tenacity. With Shin, he’s just… Saint. Just Saint.
Shin smirks, though there’s a certain gentleness behind his eyes.
“Collect yourself, huh? Who would’ve thought the Great Tsunami would be such a crybaby? I thought you got all the tears out back in high school, when you were chasing me around like a lost puppy.”
Saint looks into Shin’s eyes. His throat tightens. He's afraid he'll cry all over again if he speaks. God, he loves him.
Shin’s smirk softens, and his hand moves to pat Saint’s tear-soaked cheeks.
“It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. Maybe it’s because I’m a big boy now with the healing powers of an Avenger. Or maybe…” he pauses dramatically, “it’s 'cause you're here right now crying over it. Who knows. It’s a fifty-fifty.”
At that, Saint can’t help the chuckle that escapes from him. So ridiculous.
“Aha, gotcha!” Shin says triumphantly, eyes lighting up. “Was it the Avengers joke, or me being mean to you?”
Saint laughs again, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Shin’s hand still resting against his cheek.
“Definitely the Avengers joke.”
Shin groans dramatically, dropping his hands. “Dang it. Once again, Iron Man steals my girl. Glad he died, honestly.”
"Whoa there, spoiler alert! Also, wrong. No one could ever steal me away from you. Not even Robert Downey Jr.," Saint replies, a grin pulling at his lips, exposing his deep dimples.
"Gross. We're not talking about this anymore." Shin rolls his eyes, his hands reaching for the game console again. Before he could fully dive back into his virtual world though, Saint’s voice cuts through again.
"Do you promise though... that it doesn’t...?"
Shin's eyes linger on the paused TV screen, a soft sigh escaping his lips. As much as he wishes he could avoid it, he’d rather put Saint’s mind at ease than to have him lose sleep over something Shin had forgotten about years ago.
With renewed resolve, Shin turns back to Saint. In one swift motion, he takes Saint’s hand, lifts his right foot, and places Saint’s hand firmly on his ankle, a gesture that would’ve given Saint a heart attack a few minutes ago.
"Whoa! Shin! What are you—" Saint tries to pull his hand back, a look of pure shock flooding his face. Shin can see the concern etched in his expression, and a part of him feels a twinge of guilt for how much Saint cares.
"See? No pain," Shin says, twisting his foot in various directions to prove his point. The movements are casual, easy, without even a flinch. Saint watches, his gaze shifting from Shin’s ankle to his face, stunned into silence. No matter how long they’ve been together, he will never know what Shin is up to.
Shin reaches up, brushing a strand of hair from Saint’s forehead, his fingers lingering just a little longer than necessary. Shin will never get tired of those puppy-dog eyes.
"I am okay, you are okay, and we are okay," Shin says, his voice steady. "Do you love me?"
"Everyday," Saint answers without a second’s hesitation.
"Great. Then that’s that. Nothing’s changed. You’re still an annoying big baby, and I’m still super cool and super awesome. Now, can we get back to my game?"
"Nope." Saint’s reply is immediate, catching Shin off guard. He really is full of surprises today.
"Why… not?" Shin asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.
A beat of silence.
"You didn’t say you loved me back," Saint smirks through the fake bashfulness.
Shin couldn’t help the scoff that left his lips. Unbelievable.
“Hm.” Shin tilts his head, tapping his chin like he’s considering it seriously. “That’s reserved for special occasions. And for whenever I’m feeling soft. Which… I’m definitely not feeling either today so..." He grins. “Take what you can get, comrade.”
Saint’s jaw drops, clearly offended. "You did not just call me ‘comrade’."
“Sure did, bud,” Shin replied, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Baby…” Saint pouted, stretching out the last syllable.
Shin’s silence is deliberate, his expression stubborn.
"Oh? No retort now?" Saint’s grin widens into a full, teasing smirk.
"... Friend."
The puppy-dog eyes return.
"Okay, fine yes! I love you! I love you so much I could die!" Shin throws his hands up, exasperated but clearly amused. "Which… I’m about to if you don’t let me get back to my game! Yes?"
Saint chuckles, his heart swelling as he watches Shin’s dramatic display. "Much better. Thank you." Without warning, he shifts, laying his head on Shin’s lap, settling in comfortably as if he belongs there.
"Oof! You big brute," Shin mutters, glaring down at the weight that's now resting on him.
"Mmm. Whatever you say, baby," Saint murmurs, crossing his arms as he gazes across the room at the TV, clearly pleased with himself. "Now, beat this dungeon boss for me."