Chapter 94 94: Melancholic Night
The flash of the cameras felt like a firing squad. As Saint stood beside his father, the physical resemblance was striking—two generations of Kross men, built like mountains and carved from ice. But while the world saw a proud father and a successful son, Saint felt the cold pressure of his father's hand on his shoulder like a lead weight.
"Look at the lens, Saint," Mr. Kross whispered, his voice barely a breath, perfectly masked by the aristocratic smile he wore for the press. "You played your part well tonight. The 'Unified' performance on the ice was... efficient."
"Thank you, Father," Saint replied, his voice a flat, controlled monotone.
"Efficient, but dangerous," his father continued, the grip on Saint's shoulder tightening just enough to be felt through the layers of the tuxedo. "Sloane is satisfied for now, but I don't think I saw the way you looked at the elevator doors earlier. You have four months to become a machine, Saint. Not a man, and certainly not a 'partner' to a Danvers. If you win this championship, you're a god. If you let your... sentiments... distract you, you're just a footnote in a failed merger."
"The championship is all that matters," Saint lied, his eyes fixed on the red light of a camera.
"Good. Because your mother has already arranged a dinner with the Vane directors next week. No Danvers invited. See to it that you stay focused." With a final, sharp pat on the shoulder, Mr. Kross stepped away, leaving Saint standing alone in the spotlight.
___
Across the parking lot, the door to Baby's limo clicked shut, cutting off the roar of the paparazzi. The interior was dim, cooled to a precise 68 degrees, and smelled of leather and expensive silence.
Baby collapsed against the seat, the mask finally cracking. He pulled at his bowtie, his fingers shaking. He reached for his phone, desperate to text Saint, to ask if he was okay, to tell him that his heart was still racing from that catch on the ice—but he stopped.
Sloane was right. The therapy was over. Their "vault" was gone. Elena's evaluation had protected them, but it had also stripped away the one hour a week where they were allowed to be Saint and Baby instead of Kross and Danvers.
The drive back to the campus was a blur of city lights and heavy thoughts. They had passed the first test, but the stakes had shifted from "survival" to "victory."
Now, their life had four crucial points to follow.
The Goal: The International Championship.
The Deadline: 120 days.
The Price of Failure: Financial ruin for their families and the end of their careers.
The Price of Success: Total isolation in the public eye.
Baby wished they could have done it any other way, but, unfortunately, this was how it was supposed to be.
As he entered the apartment, the loneliness washed over him.
The place that was once his sanctuary felt like an alien land without Saint's presence.
He realised that Saint had become that part of his life that he might just not be able to live without. However, he was no fool, call him a coward, a wretch, a weakling, but deeper down, he knew some kind of trouble was brewing somewhere.
The world was against them, and he feared that they might not be awake to stand against the world
___
When Saint finally entered their shared apartment, the lights were low. Baby was sitting on the kitchen counter, still in his dress shirt but with the sleeves rolled up, staring at the leather wristband on his arm. He didn't look up when the door opened.
"She told the truth," Baby whispered, his voice thick. "Elena. She gave us the pass. But Saint... she also took away the only place we could hold hands."
Saint walked over, stopping just short of touching him, his grey eyes reflecting the exhaustion of the night. "She didn't take it away, Baby. She just moved it." He reached out, finally closing the distance and resting his forehead against Baby's. "We aren't 'Unified' because of a contract anymore. We're a team because we're the only two people in the world who know how heavy this is."
Slowly, Baby lifted his face, his eyes shining with unshed tears, "I'm scared, Saint. Am I a coward for thinking we should break up before they force us to?" He asked, trying to blink away his tears.
Saint's eyes flashed with hurt and anger.
He gripped Baby's chin, leaning his face closer until their breaths mingled.
"Don't you dare, Baby. Don't you date ytter those words to me. Ever." He growled lowly.
Baby looked away, "You don't have to be angry, Saint. You I'm right. They're going to do it, Saint. It doesn't matter how angry you get... they're right –"
"Right?" Saint snapped, his chest heaving, "You think I'm having it any easier over here?" He huffed out a dry laugh, stepping away from Baby and raking his hair.
Baby but his lips, his chest twisting painfully as he stared at Saint's shattered face. But he couldn't say a word.
Maybe, breaking up would be easier, they could concentrate on the game instead of spending time figuring out how to hide in the shadows.
"What's this?" Saint asked quietly, dragging his hand over his face, "You think for one fucking second that I'd choose to love you in the dark? You think I love pretending to be the perfect son? I thought we were in this together? I thought you loved me –"
"That's exactly why I'm doing this, Saint..." he stelled forward, his hand reaching up to cup Saint's chin, "Because I love you." He whispered.
Saint leaned to Baby's touch, closing his eyes, holding his hand over Baby’s, "Then stop. You're hurting me with your words." He murmured, sighing deeply.
Baby sniffled, "I'm protecting you... us. Look how big this is now, how will it be when we finally get to THC? We're just preparing ourselves for a great fall. Do you know how it would sound? Two star hockey players secretly dating... We'll be doomed." He whispered.
Saint gritted his teeth and faced Baby, his grey eyes swirling with intense emotions.
"That's why we have the shadows, Baby. Don't you understand?" Saint's voice cracked in the end, his hands slightly shaking from the pain ripping through his chest.
He never expected to come home to heartbreak.
Baby looked away, refusing to see the hurt on his partner's face, "Do you want to stay in the shadows forever? That's what you're suggesting." He murmured.
Saint clenched his jaw, his eyes raking Baby's face, "As long as that shadow has you in it, I'm ready to spend the rest of my life in it. Can't you see how much in love with you I am?"
"And I am not any less in love with you..." Baby trailed off, biting his lip hard.
Saint reached out, tracing Baby's jaw, "Then why the hell are we having this conversation?" He asked quietly, tilting Baby's face back to look at him.
Baby smiled sadly, "Because I'm scared." He confessed.
Saint chuckled, "Well, if it helps... I'm scared, too." He murmured.
Baby shook his head, "We shouldn't be. We shouldn't feel that way. Our life is already hard, we're just making things harder for ourselves. That's why we should..." he paused, unable to face Saint.
He looked down, fisting his hands as he continued, "That's why we should break up, Saint Kross." He muttered, moving his face away from Saint's hand.
Saint stilled, closing his eyes to allow the pain and shock rock him from the inside out.
Slowly, he opened his eyes to meet Baby's lowered head, "This is what you want?" He asked, voice low, flat.
Baby gasped softly from the coldness he detected in Saint's voice, he had almost forgotten how it used to be without the love between them.
But his mind was already made up, he was doing this.
"Yes, Saint. This is what we want –"
"Oh, no, Baby. I know what I want, and breaking up with the man who makes me feel complete isn't one of them. I guess I was the one who was just in over my head. But I get it," he shrugged, turning away to face the fridge.
Baby frowned, "How dare you say that? You know how much I love you, Saint." He bellowed.
Saint scoffed, "You're the one breaking up, not me." He murmured.
Baby sighed, "Fine, think what you want. But, believe it or not, I am doing this to protect us and save our future. You're welcome." He stated, angrily.
"I never thanked," Saint muttered.
Baby stared at Saint's turned back, his heart aching badly. He wanted to go to Saint, wrap his arms around him, kiss him. But, that was dangerous. They've played with fire enough, they needed to step back before they got burned.
Saint turned, not bothering to hide the raw pain in his eyes as he stared into Baby's eyes, "I thought I'd get to spend a quiet night with you after..." he gestured his hands around, "All this. But, no. What I get is a breakup. Goodnight, Baby, just know I'm hurting... badly." He said and walked out of the kitchen, never looking back.
Baby stood still, listening to Saint's reseeding footsteps.
The moment he heard the soft click of his door, he leaned over the counter and sobbed.
Yes, he was the coward. He wasn't strong enough for them... unfortunately.