Chapter 32 32: Broken Toy
Baby froze.
Not the cute kind of freeze —
the fight-or-flight, soul-leaving-body kind.
His hand stayed on the doorknob.
His breath? Gone.
His spine? Rigid.
Because Saint's words didn't just land… they detonated.
Slowly — painfully slowly — Baby turned his head, just enough to see Saint from over his shoulder.
Saint stood close.
Too close.
Close enough that his warmth crawled down Baby's back like a warning or a dare.
Baby's voice came out low, rough. "What did you just say?"
Saint didn't blink. Didn't flinch. Didn't back up.
He leaned in even closer.
"You heard me," Saint murmured.
"You touched me. You kissed me. You held me like you wanted me."
Baby's throat tightened.
He gripped the doorknob harder, knuckles white.
"Saint…" His voice trembled — with anger, panic, want — he couldn't tell anymore.
"We dropped this topic," Baby reminded.
"No." Saint's whisper was a knife wrapped in velvet.
"I'm done pretending it didn't happen," Saint stated.
Baby whipped around fully, slamming his back into the door, glaring daggers at him.
"It was a mistake." Baby snapped. "A fucking accident. A drunken—"
"Was it?" Saint cut in, his eyes darkening, "We're you even really that drunk?" He questioned tactfully.
Baby swallowed.
Hard.
"And even if you were—" Saint's eyes dragged down Baby's face, lips, throat, chest, slow and sinful — "—your hands weren't shaky."
Baby stepped forward, shoving Saint's chest.
Saint barely moved.
"Don't fucking twist it!" Baby glared.
"I'm not twisting anything," Saint said quietly.
"You were hard, Baby." Saint pointed out.
A full-body shiver ripped through Baby before he could stop it.
Saint saw it.
Of course, he saw it.
And his jaw flexed like he was restraining something feral.
"You're sick," Baby whispered.
Saint smiled — small, dark, devastating.
"Maybe. But I'm not lying."
Baby's heartbeat crashed against his ribs, wild and loud.
"You want to know what makes this worse?" Saint whispered, stepping forward again, crowding Baby against the door.
Baby tried to turn his face away — Saint caught his chin gently, forcing him to meet his eyes.
"I didn't forget the way you said my name." He whispered.
Baby's breath stuttered.
"And I didn't forget," Saint continued, voice low and deadly soft, "that you were the one who pulled me back in." He murmured.
Baby's knees actually weakened.
Saint noticed. He always noticed.
Which is exactly why Saint stepped back with a sharp inhale — as if any more closeness and he'd lose control completely.
He raked a hand through his hair, chest rising and falling hard.
"That's it. We finally talked about it like we should," he muttered, voice hoarse.
Baby inhaled shakily, his hand tightening around his door knub, "And... what was your point of doing all these?" He asked, his voice shaking very slightly, and his eyes regaining some semblance of control.
Saint shrugged, "We're adults, we don't have to lie to ourselves, we need to face the truth." he stated.
Baby frowned, "And what could that truth be?" His voice sounded more confident now.
Saint locked his eyes on Baby before he spoke, "That we're men, and we are attracted to each other –"
"You're such an idiot. You've got to be kidding me, Saint. I fucking hate you," Baby spat, anger radiating through his glare.
Saint slowly nodded, "I know you hate me, Baby. But, I no longer think that hate stems from competition, I think you hate me because you want me–fuck! damn it!" Saint staggered back, palming his stinging cheek.
Shock ran through his body as he wasn't expecting Baby to slap him. He hadn't even done anything, he didn't even kiss the annoying bastard.
"Never. I repeat, never make such a degrading statement about me, Saint Kross. I have a line, and you're crossing it, stay in your fucking lane," Baby pointed an angry finger at Saint, heaving.
Saint slowly faced Baby again, his face surprisingly calm, "Always so impulsive, a bad trait for a captain." He said, taking a step toward Baby.
"Stop. Stop right there, Saint, it'll be a punch this time and I'm not even joking," Baby threatened.
Saint chuckled, "You've misunderstood me, Baby, like always," he touched his cheek one more time and pushed his hand into his pocket.
Babe stared apprehensively, ready to launch another defence in case of any attack.
"I never said I liked you, Baby. I was only pointing out the attraction between us," His gestured his hand between them, "It's just like how you fuck those girls without liking any of them. Attraction is different from affection, Baby. Don't mix it up," he explained.
Baby scoffed, "Trust me, Bastard, I'm not mixing anything up. And just to be clear, I. Am. Not. Attracted. To. You. Do you understand? Stop making stories up just to soothe your stupid ego," Baby spat, his face grimacing as if he'd just tasted something bitter and sour.
Saint nodded, "It is already unfortunate that we are attracted to each other. It would be more unfortunate to pursue that attraction, and it would be much more unfortunate to let people find out about it," he paused, letting his words breathe.
"My point is, it ends here, Baby. Whether you admit it or not,. I've stated it, all we have to do is make sure we manage it to our best and never let it get between us again. Nothing, I mean, nothing can ever make me lose my spot with THC, especially not some stupid attraction towards an annoying brat. Deal with yours, I'll deal with mine," Saint's voice was final, his face a mask of cold steel as he slowly ran them over Baby's still form.
"Then, have a good night, Baby. And, stay away from my best friend. She deserves someone whole... not a broken toy," Saint said and finally left, walking into his room and closing the door.
Baby smiled self-deprecatingly, "A broken toy... that's actually the first thing you've said that aligns perfectly with me," he clenched his hand around his door knub, pushing down the tightened that was forming in his chest.
Thanks to his parents, everyone now sees him as some broken toy.
He hated Saint more, and in that moment, any strand of friendship that was blossoming between them was dead and never to be resurrected.
Saint didn't need to worry about dealing with the attraction because he had just killed everything inside Baby with two simple words.
A broken toy.
Saint was right. His parents love him. Baby's parents didn't. He was seen as the sensible one. Baby was the chaos.
And, Baby would be betraying the last honour he had for himself by ever letting himself feel anything for Saint.
He didn't need to ask Saint how he felt about their kiss. His question was already answered. Saint saw it as one of the stupid mistakes of an unstable boy.
Baby smiled again, then, very slowly, he turned and walked into his room, quietly closing his door.
Inside Saint's room, he leaned against his door, hands clenched beside him. The silence outside told him just how deep his words had cut and he realised that he might have gone a little extreme on Baby.
He heard Baby's door click shut and shut his eyes.
"I shouldn't have said that," he murmured.
He had heard the soft murmur from Baby after he entered his room. He wondered what it was that made Baby accept such words with such ease and self-harming ease.
Guilt.
That's what he felt.
He had only planned to ask Baby to stay away from Elena, but for some reason, he blurted out a lot of other unnecessary things. It was unlike him to act out of control, but Baby was the only one who forced him to step outside his perfect image.
He should apologise. He would apologise.
An adult always apologised, for easy teamwork, of course.
He hugged heavily and dragged his heavy legs over to his bed. He wasn't sleepy, but he turned off the bedside lamp and lay on his back, facing the ceiling.
It was going to be a long night and his thoughts were nowhere near quiet. It kept playing and replaying the sharp hurt that Baby had immediately masked with a calm look the moment he called him a broken toy.
Without being told, he knew that he had just added to Baby's earlier emotional breakdown.
_
Saint barely slept.
It only felt like an hour since he shut his eyes and his mind, but he was suddenly being forced awake by the sounds coming from Baby's room.
He frowned before opening his eyes, the sounds getting clearer and clearer as he drew away from sleep.
"What the fuck?" Saint murmured as he sat up.
His eyes instantly flew to Baby's wall, his face turning murderous as he realised that Baby was actually fucking someone that early in their apartment.
His vision blurred with anger and jealousy for a second, his hands clenching into tight fists as he imagined what could be happening in there in that moment.
Pain.
Sudden sharp pain pierced right into Saint's chest, causing his heartbeat to slow like he was dying, and then picking up like he was being chased with a gun.
It seemed like his mission to kill the attraction was going to be impossible because why the hell was he marching out of his room to barge into Baby's?
Consequences be damned.