"Saint, why does my head hurt so bad?" Fighter complained, massaging his forehead with his fingers while seated at the dining area.
"Why did you drink so much beer last night?" Saint snickered as he cooked noodle soup for Fighter's hangover.
"I thought that beer was an energy drink, so I drank it all at once," Fighter explained, covering his face with his hands.
"You finished six cans of beer, Fight. You were a total mess last night," Saint sneered, setting the noodle soup and a piece of banana in front of Fighter. He then leaned closer to Fighter's face. "Do you even remember what you did to me last night?" Saint asked quizzically, pursing his lips forward.
Fighter panicked at the close proximity, his eyes darting from Saint's eyes down to his lips. The image of him smack-kissing Saint three times in a row flashed in his mind.
"Tha...tha...that. I...I was drunk," Fighter stammered, closing his eyes tightly and pressing his lips together as Saint moved closer. Saint gave a smug smile at Fighter's edgy reaction before retracting to let Fighter breathe.
"But you know, drunk people tell the truth and do what their hearts want," Saint coyly informed Fighter.
"Shut up, Saint. You're making my headache worse."
"Are you gonna make something for dinner, or should we just order?" Saint asked as he put on his shoes by the doorway.
"Just order. I need more sleep," Fighter replied, still plagued by his headache.
"Can I have my hug before I leave?"
"Of course! Don't be late! I want to go out tonight," Fighter said, resting his chin on Saint's shoulder.
"I won't be late," Saint assured, leaning back to touch Fighter's face. Fighter gave him a satisfied smile before Saint left for work.
___
"But he is not your son, ma'am! Your son was long dead," Mr. Wayar, the General Manager, interjected.
Mr. Wayar and Mrs. Panich were in the CEO's office. Mr. Wayar had rushed over after finding out about her plan to let Fighter work at the company without undergoing the proper hiring process.
"They did not identify who the man was," Mrs. Panich replied casually.
"The forensic team confirmed it! It was him!" Mr. Wayar insisted.
"Then where is the paper that confirms it was really my son?" Mrs. Panich asked exasperatedly.
"I told you, I lost it!" Mr. Wayar nearly yelled.
"I believe that Fighter is my son, Joss. His birthmark, his face, his voice, everything is the same as my Zee."
"Aunty, move on!" Mr. Wayar urged.
Mr. Wayar, Mrs. Panich's nephew, was the son of her sister. He had become the general manager through dedication and hard work, refusing to be acknowledged solely because of family connections. He wanted his achievements to be recognized as the result of his own blood, sweat, and tears.
___
Saint had been signing documents when a phone call interrupted him. He took it out from his side pocket and checked the caller ID. He automatically smiled when a familiar name appeared on the screen. He immediately answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Saaaainnt," Fighter whined.
Saint snorted at Fighter's tone. "What is it this time, Fight?" he asked, shifting the phone to his left ear while continuing to sign the documents.
"Are you busy?"
"No," Saint replied, struggling to flip the pages to sign the next one.
"Can we talk for a moment? I want to hear your voice. My head still hurts."
"Drink more water. It can lessen the pain," Saint advised while typing something on the computer.
"I'm doing it. I think I need you here so I can sleep. Saint, can you come home already?"
"It's still early, Fight. How about we don't go out tonight and just sleep straight after dinner?" Saint suggested while writing something on the paper from the computer screen.
"Uhmm. That's a good idea, Saint."
Saint didn't answer for a second as he tried to understand what was written on the computer screen.
"Saint? I think you're busy," Fighter said.
"No. No, I am not. Just thinking of what to order for dinner," Saint lied. He didn't want Fighter to hang up just because he was busy. He wanted to hear Fighter's voice as well.
"Can we have a simple meal, Saint?"
"Whatever my angel wants." Saint closed the signed document and set it aside.
"Saint, don't be late."
"I promise. I won't," Saint assured while opening the second document.
"I want to cuddle, Saaaaint."
"You'll soon have it." Saint stopped what he was doing and focused on the conversation.
"Saint..."
"Hmmm?"
"I'm sleepy..."
"That's great."
"Thanks..."
And then there was a long silence from the other line, and soon Saint could hear soft snores.
"See you later, Fight," he murmured and gently ended the call.
"Whatever my angel wants." Zol mocked, mimicking the soft tone Saint used earlier on the phone.
"That was boyfriend stuff. If not, I don't know what is anymore," Saifah commented.
Saint just rolled his eyes and continued what he was doing. The faster he finished his work, the sooner he could get home.
He was about to compile all the signed documents when another phone call came in. He answered it without checking the caller ID.
"Hello?"
"Mom?"
"I told you already."
"No... I don't want to."
"I am fine."
