Chapter 123 123: A Year, No Us
Author's Note:
I know it's four days late, April fools, dear lovely readers.
I'm not that evil.
Now, let's make Saint suffer!
Damn... I really got you guys, didn't I? 🤭
______
The match ended in a roar.
Not as explosive as the championship night.
Not as historic.
But loud enough to matter.
London’s THC division had held their ground well, and Baby had been at the center of it all—clean plays, sharp passes, effortless control.
Different.
Refined.
Colder.
Across the rink, Saint pulled off his helmet slowly.
His chest rose and fell, not from exhaustion—
But from something else.
Something heavier.
One year.
He scanned the ice.
Didn’t have to look long.
He found him immediately.
Of course he did.
Baby stood near the boards, surrounded by his current teammates, laughing softly at something one of them said.
Relaxed.
Composed.
Unaffected.
Saint’s grip tightened slightly around his helmet.
He looks… fine.
That thought shouldn’t have hurt.
But it did.
“Yo, Kross.”
One of his teammates nudged him. “You good?”
Saint blinked once.
“Yeah.”
Lie.
“Let’s go greet them,” another said. “Management’s watching. Gotta keep things friendly.”
Friendly.
Right.
Saint nodded once and started walking.
Each step steady.
Measured.
Controlled.
Until he was standing right in front of him.
Baby looked up.
And smiled—Not soft, not warm...
Professional.
“Good game,” Baby said, extending his hand.
Saint stared at it for half a second too long.
Then took it.
The contact was brief.
Firm.
Empty.
“Yeah,” Saint replied quietly. “You played well.”
Baby nodded. “Thanks, man. You too.”
That was it.
That was all.
No hesitation.
No flicker.
No history.
Around them, teammates exchanged greetings, laughter filling the space, but for Saint—
Everything sounded distant.
Muted.
Because Baby had already moved on.
“London suits you,” Saint found himself saying.
"Sorry, what was that?" Baby briefly looked over his shoulder to glance at Saint.
Polite.
Detached.
"London... it looks good on you," Saint said.
“It does,” Baby said simply.
Saint swallowed.
There was something wrong with this.
Not anger.
Not bitterness.
Nothing.
And somehow…
That was worse.
“You’ve been… good?” Saint asked.
But Baby was no longer listening to him. He was already engaged with a teammate, talking over a tactic they'd used in the game.
Saint almost laughed... Of course, Baby had been good.
Why wouldn’t he be?
He had moved on.
Built something new.
Left everything behind.
Left him behind.
“Alright, boys!”
A staff member clapped his hands. “Wrap it up. Media’s waiting.”
The moment broke.
Just like that.
Baby walked away with his teammates, not looking back.
No words.
No “see you around,”
No “see you later.”
Not even “after.”
Just... walked away.
Saint stood there for a second longer than he should have.
Watching.
Waiting.
For something.
Anything.
But nothing came.
And slowly—
He nodded to himself.
Right.
This is what he chose.
This was his normal.
"Yo, Kross, coming?" A guy called from behind, gesturing toward the locker room.
"Sure," Saint murmured and turned away from Baby.
He felt... void.
Career was booming, accounts blossoming, but his heart... void... dead.
For a year, he'd tried to contact Baby and everyone close to him, but it felt like Baby never existed.
Like he'd imagined all those times.
He was left to imagine the worst.
Seeing Baby on the rink today, it broke something in him.
The image that had haunted his sleep resurfaced again: Baby on the rink on that championship day, staring at him with his soul bared, and yet, he crushed it without thinking twice.
He thought when he saw Baby next, it’d be chaotic... like the typical Baby.
He'd already mastered how to manage a chaotic Baby.
But this Baby?
Strange.
Normal... too normal.
How the hell was he going to start talking about the past with someone who acted as if he'd never seen him before in his entire life?
He'd just look and sound stupid.
"Baby,"
A voice dragged him out of his thoughts.
He looked up and saw his beautiful fiancée leaning against a locker.
"Kora," Saint called, smiling.
Kora leaned off the locker and walked over to Saint, hugging him tightly without minding the sweat.
"Aww, respect the single community, guys," a guy walked in with only a towel around his waist.
"Buzz off, Cage," Kora smirked at the guy.
"Just saying," Cage winked at Saint before leaving.
"Kora, I've told you, this is the men's locker room," Saint whispered, dropping his stick and helmet onto the bench.
"Yeah... sorry. I was bored of waiting in the car," Kora sighed.
"Come on, you know you don't have to pick me up. I can get home just fine—"
"I miss you," Kora pouted.
Saint paused, sighing softly. "Fine. Next time just wait in the car, yeah?" He caressed her cheek.
"Okay," Kora smirked, kissing Saint's lips.
"Get a room," Cage called again, wiping his face.
Saint chuckled, stepping away from Kora.
"See you later, Cage," Saint said, leading Kora away from the locker room.
He led her to the parking lot and opened her car door for her.
"Go home, Kora. I'll see you tomorrow," he said gently.
"Again? I thought we could spend the night together," she folded her arms, dissatisfied.
Saint glanced around them, hoping no one was close by.
"Come on, Kora. You know I'm the captain. I'm expected to live in. Do you want your fiancé to lose his job?" he asked, smiling.
Kora rolled her eyes. "Like that Sloane lady would ever let you go," she chuckled, shaking her head.
"You know her... very particular about me—"
"Ah, did you see him today? Baby? Seems he was with the London team all along. I was really worried. Thank goodness nothing happened to him," she spoke slowly.
Saint paused, his fists clenching beside him, but his face gave nothing away.
"Yes, he is well. Their team won," he said, gesturing into the car for her.
Kora smiled sweetly. "I'm really happy he isn't being dramatic about the whole incident."
Saint's shoulders tightened.
"He is well," he repeated slowly.
"Drive safely," Saint murmured.
Then he leaned in and kissed Kora's forehead before stepping back.
Kora blew him a kiss and pulled the door closed.
Saint stood there, watching Kora's car drive away.
Something was off.
Baby was off.
And he was going to find out.
He couldn't just act like normal buddies with him.
The radio silence was deafening.
They needed to talk.
Where had Baby been hiding all year?
Why was he unreachable?
Why did he not even bother to act like they were something in the past?
Or... did their them really mean nothing to him?
"Yeah, I'm heading over now. Yeah, I got the porridge,"
Saint’s head snapped to the side the moment he heard Cam's voice.
He could not believe his eyes.
One year of trying to reach Baby and people close to him and failing—
But suddenly, Baby appears.
And so does his best friend.
He needed answers.
And Cam was going to give them to him.
"Cam!" he called.
But it seemed like Cam had his earphones in as he walked.
He didn't even turn.
Fine, then...
Saint followed him.
Wherever Cam was headed—
That was where he’d find Baby.