AngelophanY

Twenty-fivE

"SAAAAAIINNT!!"

Saint was settling into his chair with a hot coffee when Zol burst in, yelling his name and disrupting his morning.

"Oh my god, Saint! I have shocking news for you!"

"You're yelling early in the morning," Saint grumbled, already nursing a headache from last night's drinking session.

"You won't believe what I just watched yesterday! Haven't you been watching TV?!"

"Just get to the point. You're making my headache worse," Saint said, growing impatient.

"Alright, fine! Here it is. ZEE PRUK PANICH IS ALIVE!"

Everyone in the room sprang to attention at Zol's unbelievable statement. Saint, however, remained seated, disinterested in what she was saying. Firstly, because Zee was supposed to be dead, and secondly, because his look-alike, Fighter, had left a month ago.

"Saint, didn't Fighter tell you about this?" Zol asked, clearly taken aback.

"What are you talking about?" Saint replied, his headache from last night's drinking session still lingering.

"Saint, listen up! Last night, the Panichs held a press conference. They announced that their son Zee isn't dead; he's alive and well! And guess what? Zee appeared on national TV, looking as handsome as ever. He claims he can't remember anything and has been living under the name Fighter! How do you not know about this?" Zol exclaimed, excitedly sharing the news.

"What?! Are you serious? He said that?" Saint sat frozen in his chair, feeling like his heart was about to burst in his chest.

"Absolutely Fucking YES! It's all over the internet!"

Saint's colleagues immediately grabbed their phones to search for information about the press conference from the previous night. Meanwhile, Saint remained motionless, processing the shocking update.

"Are you sure about this?"
"I'm positive, Saint!"

"Wait... It's really trending at the top. Sir Zee is alive," Saifah stammered, surprised at the article displayed on his phone screen.

"I can't believe this..." Tommy started to tear up at the news. Zee, his role model, was alive.

"And he's coming here today..." Saifah shared, having read that Zee would be at work this morning.

Saint felt like the world around him had turned white, unable to hear anything else. His heart raced, nerves on edge, hands shaking, and skin covered in cold sweat. Summoning all his strength, he rose from his seat.

He dashed towards the front entrance, his heart pounding in anticipation. The elevator ride down felt interminable, each second stretching as he frantically pressed the button. Finally, the doors opened, and Saint rushed out into the lobby. He scanned the crowded area, hoping to catch sight of a familiar face among the throng of staff, employees, and visitors.

Miss Olive, who was mopping nearby, noticed Saint's restless demeanor from a distance. She paused, curious and concerned, as she watched him scan the area with intensity.

"Saint!" Miss Olive called out again, her raspy voice carrying over the ambient noise of the lobby. She watched as Saint hurried towards the entrance, driven by a singular purpose.

"Oh my God, sir Zee..." Miss Olive whispered to herself, fully aware of the news that had everyone buzzing. She continued mopping, her thoughts lingering on the unfolding drama involving Saint and the return of Zee.

Zee Pruk Panich, dressed in a sleek black tuxedo and sporting black shades, made a striking entrance into the building. Flanked by two imposing bodyguards and accompanied by a woman holding papers, he exuded an aura of authority and elegance. The ground floor staff lined up to greet him, bowing respectfully at 45 degrees as he passed, responding with his trademark friendly smile.

Saint stood frozen at the end of the line of staff members. He couldn't believe his eyes and struggled with the overwhelming mix of emotions. Was this person before him Zee Pruk Panich, or was he seeing Fighter, the angel he loved?

As Zee approached, Saint's heart raced, his breath caught in his throat. Tears welled up as he looked at the man who seemed to embody both his past love and the enigmatic figure from the press conference.

"Fighter..."

Saint finally uttered as Zee approached, stopping a few meters away, his expression unreadable.

"I'm sorry, sir, but he's no longer Fighter. He's now your boss, Zee Pruk Panich," the woman in a black suit, who appeared to be Zee's secretary, interjected. She motioned for them to continue walking, and Zee followed her lead, passing by Saint.

"Fighter!" Saint called out again, louder this time. He saw Zee and his entourage pause.

"Fight...please," Saint muttered, tears welling up in his eyes. He swallowed hard, battling his nerves as he slowly closed the distance between them.

"Fight...please," Saint repeated softly. He noticed Zee signal to his secretary and guards to proceed without him. They moved away, leaving Zee alone to walk forward.

"Fighter, wait," Saint implored, standing still as he watched Zee walk away. His feet felt heavy, as if rooted to the ground.

"Fighter..." Saint whispered, watching as Fighter opened the emergency exit door and quickly shut it behind him. Saint sprinted towards the door, his heart pounding in his chest, hoping Fighter was still there. He cautiously pushed the door open and found Fighter standing near the staircase, his back turned towards Saint, seemingly lost in thought as he gazed at the stairs leading to the second floor.

"Fight... Is... Is that you?" Saint stuttered, his legs trembling with a mixture of hope and anxiety. He noticed Fighter shaking his shoulders and raising a hand to his face, as if wiping away tears.

"Fighter..." Saint whispered, closing the distance between them cautiously. He heard a quiet sob, and it startled him. Saint hurried forward to face Fighter, a tear escaping his own eyes at the sight that greeted him.

The man was covering his face with his left arm, while his right hand clutched tightly onto his black shades. His shoulders shook with heavy sobs, the sound echoing through the empty emergency exit.

"Fighter..." Saint's voice cracked as tears streamed down his face. Seeing Fighter in such distress because of him was unbearable. He approached cautiously, reaching out to gently touch Fighter's hand that covered his face. At first, Fighter resisted, but then he slowly loosened his grip, allowing Saint to uncover his tear-streaked face.

Saint's heart shattered as he witnessed his angel crying uncontrollably, gripping Saint's hand with intensity. Knowing he was the cause of Fighter's breakdown intensified Saint's own tears, releasing the guilt and longing he'd bottled up over the past month.

"I'm sorry..." Saint choked on his words, his hand trembling as he gently held Fighter's shoulder. Tears streamed down his face unabated.

"Please... let me explain, Fight," Saint pleaded, his voice cracking with emotion. Fighter remained silent, tears continuing to flow as he cried like a lost child searching desperately for comfort.

Fighter dropped his shades and clutched Saint's coat tightly against his chest, crumpling the fabric in his fists. Slowly, he leaned his head against Saint's chest and began to cry deeply and uncontrollably. Saint instinctively wrapped his arms around Fighter, pulling him close.

Together, they stood there, crying with abandon. All the pain, suffering, yearning, guilt, disappointment, broken hearts, misery, sadness, and loneliness they had both endured for a month poured out in waves.

"Why..." Fighter mumbled through his sobs, his voice choked with emotion.

Saint felt a single feather materialize in his palm, emerging from where he held Fighter against his back.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry, Fighter. Please hear me out," Saint pleaded desperately, his voice quivering with emotion. He needed to mend things, to restore their connection.

Fighter nodded twice against Saint's chest, tears still dampening Saint's coat. His own tears mingled with Fighter's, but Saint paid them no mind as long as he could hold Fighter close.

Pulling back slightly, Fighter looked directly into Saint's eyes. He seemed to have calmed a bit, but upon meeting Saint's gaze, his expression crumpled again, and fresh tears spilled over. Without hesitation, Saint gently cupped Fighter's face in his hands.

"Fighter, please don't cry," Saint whispered, tears still streaming down his face. It was agonizing to see Fighter in such pain.

"Okay, w..we can talk later. I have a me..meeting to attend," Fighter managed to say through his sobs. He lifted his right hand to gently stroke Saint's cheek. "You've l..lost weight," he added softly.

He nodded, Saint leaned into the touch, savoring the warmth that he had missed so desperately. His eyes locked onto Fighter's, studying every detail of his face, trying to grasp the reality of the moment—Fighter was really here with him. Tenderly, he wiped away the remaining tears on Fighter's cheeks. He moved closer until their foreheads touched, finding solace in each other's presence. They stood like that for several minutes, silently calming themselves amidst the rush of emotions. There was so much they needed to discuss and clarify, but for now, Fighter had an important meeting to attend, and Saint had his own work waiting.

"I missed you."