It's nearly lunchtime, and Zee's head feels ready to burst from the overwhelming sea of letters and numbers scattered across his desk. Papers, documents, and files detailing the company's history and operations cover every available surface. Zee knows he must absorb all this information before assuming the role of CEO.
Zee raised the thick file above his head and then dropped it onto the table with a loud thud, causing his secretary, Ms. Janis, to curse out loud.
"Son of a monkey!" Janis exclaimed, startled by the noise, as she was preparing Zee's third cup of coffee.
"Watch your mouth, Jan," Zee replied with a yawn, clearly fatigued from hours of reading that morning.
"You curse more than me, sir," Janis retorted, handing him the cup of coffee.
"I think I don't need coffee this time, Jan. I think I need my vitamins," Zee said, signaling to his secretary that he didn't want any more coffee for the day.
"You take vitamins, sir?" Janis inquired curiously.
"Yeah, it's called Vitamin Saint," Zee replied nonchalantly as he started to organize the scattered papers on his desk.
Ms. Janis snorted and silently muttered, "What the heck," at her boss's old jokes.
"Is he in his office? I need his hug," Zee asked, pursing his lips into a pout.
"Yes, sir," Ms. Janis replied, furrowing her eyebrows and shaking her head in mild disbelief. Zee's pouting was a bit much for her.
Zee left the office accompanied by his secretary and the two bodyguards.
___
Saint entered his department office with a stack of papers in his hands, having just returned from an all-department managers meeting. He gestured for everyone in his department to gather around, and soon he distributed the papers he had been holding. Standing with his back to the front, he began discussing expenditures, income control, and budget plans for the month.
If Fighter could see Saint working so seriously and speaking with such focus, he would surely be deeply impressed—perhaps even moved enough that his wings might reveal themselves.
Then, someone appeared at the door, peeking in with a lost expression, resembling a child searching for their mother. Saifah noticed the person and was about to smile warmly, but the man at the door gestured for him to stay quiet. Saifah immediately stifled his smile and pretended to listen intently to whatever his manager was saying.
The rest of the team also noticed the person standing behind Saint, but at the silent signal, they chose to ignore the presence and maintained their composure. Suppressing their laughter or knowing smiles, they focused on their manager while the mysterious individual slowly approached Saint's direction.
Saint, engrossed in discussing work matters, suddenly sensed a presence behind him and felt arms wrapping around his abdomen in a hug.
"What the f—" Saint began to say, but stopped as a familiar scent reached his nose.
"So warm... I like..." Fighter murmured, inhaling Saint's scent from his neck. "...it," he breathed out.
"F..Fight? What are you doing?" Saint struggled as Fighter clung to him, feeling uneasy with the public display of affection. Panic set in as his colleagues began to giggle at them.
"Can we stay like this, Saint?" Fighter rested his chin on Saint's shoulder, pouting.
"Yes, you can, sir," Zol answered for Saint, ushering the others back to their tables and leaving the two alone.
"I'm feeling better now." Fighter pulled Saint closer, but Saint gently held his hand and guided him to a spare chair beside him.
As they sat comfortably, Fighter grinned and began playing with Saint's right hand. Saint rested his head on his left hand, leaning on the table and gazing lovingly at Fighter. Fighter looked genuinely happy, enjoying the simple act of holding Saint's fingers. Saint felt immense gratitude that Fighter was back with him, vowing silently never to repeat the mistakes that had caused them so much pain. Losing Fighter had been a torture.
"I love you, Fighter," Saint said softly.
Fighter glanced at him, his smile shy and full of happiness. He then brought their joined hands up to cover his face in embarrassment, though Saint could see the joy in Fighter's eyes behind their hands.
___
"These are the journals that you and Inspector Suppapong left behind," Ms. Jan handed Zee the two small notebooks belonging to him and the Inspector.
"Yeah, I remember these," Zee replied, flipping through the pages until he stopped at a certain page with a name written on it.
"He's behind all of this," Zee said through gritted teeth.
"Are you sure, sir?" Ms. Janis asked, tilting her head to read what was written.
"The Inspector and I suspected him. I trust the Inspector's intuition. He was an expert at this."
When they were both engrossed in the journals, a doorbell snapped them out of their concentration. They were at Zee's condominium, and Zee had invited his boyfriend over after his work.
"It's my Saint. Let him in," Zee instructed his secretary.
Ms. Janis immediately opened the door for Saint. A handsome gentleman in black jeans and a sweatshirt greeted her. She bowed slightly and gestured for him to come inside. She smiled to herself as he entered the condo, thinking, Sir is so lucky. They look so good together. She followed behind Saint silently, excited for the couple.
"Fight..."
Saint extended his arms to hug Fighter, who reciprocated eagerly, wrapping his arms around Saint. They shared the warmest hug, Fighter closing his eyes as he rested his head on Saint's shoulder.
"Uhhm, ehheem... I have to go, sir. Call me if you need anything," Ms. Janis interrupted, clearing her throat awkwardly. The gentlemen looked over at her, Saint nodding gratefully and bidding her goodbye.
"Thank you, Ms. Janis," Saint said warmly, and Fighter added, "Yes, thank you."
Ms. Janis smiled and nodded before leaving them alone in the comfort of Zee's condominium.
"What were you doing, my angel?" Saint asked, his hands resting on Fighter's waist.
"Just checking some things I left behind. Would you like to see?" Fighter gently freed himself from Saint's embrace, retrieving the journals and guiding him to sit on the couch.
"These belonged to your dad," Fighter explained, showing Saint the journals as they settled in together.
Fighter handed the journal to Saint, who accepted it hesitantly. Saint carefully flipped through the pages, glancing over the contents. He had never allowed himself to delve into his father's confidential cases before. As he read, his attention was suddenly drawn to a familiar name written in bold letters on the last page of the notebook. Confused, Saint looked up at Fighter.
"Why is his name here?" Saint pointed to the name on the page, seeking an explanation.
"Be careful with that man, Saint." Fighter held Saint's hands gently, his touch comforting yet serious.
"What do you mean, Fight?" Saint's worry and suspicion grew as he awaited Fighter's explanation.
"I'm afraid he's behind all of the mess." Fighter stroked Saint's right ear absentmindedly, a small smile touching his lips.
"What's wrong with my ear, Fight?"
"They're all red now, Saint. So adorable," Fighter giggled as he playfully pinched Saint's blushing ears.
"It doesn't hurt, Fight. Give it your best shot," Saint smirked and planted a kiss on Fighter's pouting lips.
