Unexpected Love *⁠.⁠✧

Episode 7

When Perth saw the blood dripping from Santa's hand, his breath caught, eyes widening in alarm. "What the hell happened?" His voice came out sharp, concern cracking through the usual indifference. He stepped closer, his focus locked on the blood trickling down Santa’s fingers.

Santa, still wincing from the pain, tried to shake it off. "It’s nothing. I just... cut myself," he mumbled, his voice unconvincing as the pain throbbed through his hand. He pulled away, attempting to avoid Perth’s concern, knowing full well that it would lead to nothing.

Perth moved forward, refusing to let Santa brush it off. His jaw tightened, and his gaze grew more intense. "Nothing? You’re bleeding," he snapped, reaching for Santa’s hand.

Santa recoiled slightly, eyes narrowing. "Why do you even care? I’m just your slave, right? Isn’t that what I am to you?" There was bitterness in his tone, frustration bubbling up from the way Perth had been treating him.

For a moment, Perth’s expression softened, then hardened just as quickly. His grip on Santa’s wrist tightened slightly, not out of force, but more as a grounding presence. "You already have the answer," Perth replied, his voice low, almost mocking. "You’re my slave, so I need to make sure you’re okay. Can’t have you falling apart on me, can I?" His words dripped with a mix of sarcasm and something deeper, unspoken.

Santa’s heart raced at the cold logic of it, but there was something in Perth’s eyes that made him hesitate. "Right. Just making sure your ‘slave’ is still functional," Santa muttered, trying to mask the hurt, though he couldn’t shake the tension between them.

Perth didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he stepped even closer, grabbing a small first-aid kit from the bathroom. "Sit down," he ordered, motioning toward the bed.

Santa, despite himself, sat on the edge of the bed, still fuming inside. He stretched his hand out reluctantly, but the moment Perth knelt in front of him, the air seemed to shift. The tension between them, simmering for days, thickened.

As Perth began cleaning the wound with careful precision, his fingers brushing lightly over Santa’s skin, something changed. The sharp sting of the antiseptic was nothing compared to the fire burning where their skin met. Santa swallowed hard, his annoyance fading, replaced by something he didn’t want to acknowledge.

"You don’t need to do this," Santa murmured, his voice barely a whisper, but the way Perth’s hands lingered over his made his heart beat faster. "It’s just a cut."

Perth looked up, locking eyes with Santa. "You’re right. I don’t need to," he said softly, the usual edge in his voice gone. His gaze held something deeper, something Santa couldn’t quite place. "But I want to."

Their eyes stayed locked, neither noticing how close their faces had gotten. The space between them was practically non-existent, their breaths mingling as the silence grew thicker. Perth’s fingers lingered on Santa’s hand, his touch no longer just clinical, but something more. The tension buzzed between them, electric and undeniable.

For a moment, the world seemed to stop

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Satang's pov

Satang leaned back against the doorframe, his arms crossed as he observed the room, his eyes narrowing when he thought of what he had overheard earlier. Santa being Perth’s slave? The idea made his blood boil. He couldn’t understand why Santa would agree to something so humiliating, or why Perth would even want that.

His thoughts were interrupted when Winny sauntered over, his usual smirk playing on his lips. "Looking for your little friend?" Winny asked casually, but Satang could hear the teasing edge to his voice.