Saint sighed deeply in disbelief upon receiving another summons from the CEO, having just left her office an hour ago. Dealing with the CEO's unpredictable demands was exhausting, especially when he was deeply engrossed in his work.
Arriving at her office promptly, he knocked to announce his presence and entered quietly when the CEO granted him permission. She was already seated on the couch, and he settled himself opposite her.
"I apologize for calling you back so soon, Saint. There's something weighing on my mind lately, and I'm concerned," the CEO confessed, her tone reflecting genuine worry.
Saint left the CEO's office with a bow of acknowledgment, his heart heavy with the reminder of his relationship with Fighter. The memory of their time together weighed on him, intensifying his pain.
As he walked back to his department, Saint attempted to calm his turbulent emotions. It had been a month since Fighter's departure, and the ache of his absence hadn't lessened. He recalled the CEO's message about requesting Fighter's permission for a DNA test to verify if he was Zee. Fighter's past was still a mystery, and the Panichs sought clarity.
If Fighter were still here, Saint knew he would have supported the test, eager to uncover Fighter's origins. Now, with Fighter gone, Saint feared that he might never return, leaving unanswered questions and unresolved feelings in his wake
___
Sunday night arrived, and Saint found himself craving a stiff drink. He had spent the entire day doing nothing but lying on his bed, occasionally staring at the first picture they had taken together. It was a moment when Saint had gifted Fighter a phone, and Fighter, fascinated by the camera, had eagerly asked for a selfie together.
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Saint changed into his attire, grabbed his car keys and wallet, and headed out of the apartment. He stopped at a club near the city where he had been visiting frequently this month, becoming acquainted with the bartender there.
"Good evening, sir. The usual?" the bartender, Mew, asked as Saint settled at the bar.
"Hi Mew. Yeah, the usual," Saint replied casually.
"Just one glass, sir. I don't want to have to call a cab for you again," Mew teased, handing Saint a glass of tequila.
Saint snorted in response and took a sip. He knew a single glass of tequila was enough to make his head spin, so he took his time enjoying it.
The loud, funky music filled the club, drawing everyone into its rhythm, but Saint remained uninterested in the festivities. All he wanted was to drink and hopefully find some solace in sleep later that night.
"Mew..One glassh pleassee."
Saint slurred slightly as he finished his first glass and insisted on another. The bartender knew Saint well enough by now to realize he couldn't dissuade him. Reluctantly, he poured another glass of tequila, knowing he'd likely need to call a cab for Saint again soon. Saint took the glass and started drinking it halfway through, lost in his own thoughts amidst the din of the club.
"Yrou know what, I really really missh him," slurred Saint, his words slightly garbled as he swirled his finger along the edge of his glass, lost in memories.
"Fighter, right, sir?" The bartender asked knowingly, having heard the name repeatedly from Saint this month.
"Yeah yeah..That angeeerl left meee. But it waszzh my fault. My.." Saint tapped his chest hard, overcome with emotion. "I did... I—"
Saint suddenly picked up his remaining glass of tequila, intending to down it all at once. The bartender, sensing trouble, quickly stepped in.
"Sir, slow down—" The bartender was cut off by someone who approached Saint and grabbed the glass and handed it to the bartender.
"Oh? Fighteeeer? Ish thissh my Fighterr?" Drunk Saint pinched the strangers cheeks but the stranger did not flinch or show any displeased expression.
"Can you help me call a cab?" the stranger politely requested.
"Of course."
They assisted the drunk person out of the club. Saint draped his arm around the stranger's neck, checking if they were someone he knew.
"Are youuuu Fighteeer?" Drunk Saint sniffed the stranger's neck, then furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. "Youuu shhmell like him.."
The stranger chuckled softly.
The bartender informed them that the cab had arrived. Together, they helped the drunk Saint into the vehicle. The stranger handed the driver a note with Saint's address, then settled in beside him.
"Sir, do you know him?" the bartender asked the stranger, curious.
The stranger nodded, showing the bartender something that dispelled his doubts.
