78. Saint
Epilogue #2: One Year Later
M y thumb hammers against the side of my leg, a tattoo of nerves that I can't seem to still. The digital numbers on the clock are a blur, but I force my eyes to focus, to make sense of the glowing red figures. They're moving too slowly, every second stretching out like an eternity. My heart is a wild thing in my chest, pounding against my ribs as if it's trying to escape.
"Get it together, Saint," I mutter under my breath, my voice lost in the silence of the apartment. It's just nerves, just the weight of what today means pressing down on me until I feel like I'm being crushed.
The room is perfectly arranged, the ambiance exactly how I pictured it when I dreamt up this plan. Candles flicker on every surface, casting shadows that dance across the walls and ceiling. In the middle of the living room, a single chair waits like a throne, draped with Princess's favorite blanket—an emerald green one that matches her eyes.
I swipe a hand over my face, trying to rub away the tension that has settled there. Everything's ready. The only missing piece is Princess. She's got that last class of the day—a history lecture she always complains about because the professor drones on like a malfunctioning robot.
"Ten more minutes," I tell myself, sneaking another glance at the clock. "Just ten more." It's nothing, a mere drop in the ocean of time. Then why does it feel like I'm the one drowning?
The seconds tick by, each one louder than the last in my ears. I imagine Princess at her desk, probably scribbling notes with that furrowed brow of concentration she gets when she's trying to absorb every detail. I wonder if she can feel that something's different today, if there's some cosmic pull urging her to hurry back home.
"Come on, Princess," I whisper, as if my words could somehow reach her, speed her steps.
The clock mocks me, the minute hand inching forward with excruciating slowness. I've faced down evil and stared into the eyes of my father when he was deep into the bottle—nothing should scare me. But the thought of what's coming next? It's got me terrified in a way that fighting never did.
This isn't just about me. It's about us—about the promise I've made to myself and the question that burns a hole in my pocket. I close my eyes for a moment, letting the scent of roses and candle wax fill my senses. When I open them again, the clock has mercy on me. Five minutes.
"Five minutes," I repeat, and my voice sounds steadier now. Princess's close; I can almost feel her presence at the edge of my awareness. The butterflies in my stomach are a whirlwind, but I stand firm. Because no matter how nervous I am, there's one thing I'm sure of—I want this. I want her. And in five minutes, I'll be one step closer to forever.
I pace the length of our open living room, the hardwood floors creaking under the weight of my anticipation. Each step is a reminder of the year that has passed—a year of my Princess filling our lives with light, challenging the darkness that once threatened to consume us all.
"Saint, man, you're gonna wear a path into the floor," Dre's voice cuts through my reverie, his tone light but not without concern.
I stop and run a hand through my dark curls, letting out a shaky breath. "It's just... it's been a year, Dre," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. The walls seem to close in, heavy with the weight of memories.
"Hey, I know," Dre replies, leaning back against the couch, the tattoos on his arms shifting with his movement. "A year of this crazy, beautiful mess we're in."
I nod, my gaze dropping to the floor. A year of tangled sheets and whispered secrets, of shared laughter and silent tears. The day I presented the idea of us—an unconventional unity—I promised her a year. One year with no strings attached, where she could walk away if it was too much, if we were too much. My heart clenches at the thought.
We hadn’t talked about it since. And, I knew that the original deal was struck before she fell in love with us, with me. But, I don’t know what she wants for the future, not for sure. I mean, I know she wants to celebrate this, us. We’re just waiting for the winter break to take a long anniversary trip.
"Did you ever think it would actually work?" Chess asks from his perch by the window, his hazel eyes probing mine.
"Hope, maybe. Think? I don't know." I admit, shrugging. We never talked about it after that day, never discussed what might happen when the year ended. And now here we are, surrounded by the evidence of our shared life, yet uncertain of its continuity.
"Look at us, though," Chess continues, gesturing around the room adorned with remnants of our collective existence. "We made it work for a year. That's gotta mean something."
"Means everything," I agree, the knot in my chest loosening slightly. But as much as we've spent the year wrapped up in each other, the future—their future, our future—is a mystery I'm desperate to solve.
"Whatever happens, she's changed us, Saint. For the better," Dre says, his blue eyes intense. He's right; Princess has woven herself into the fabric of who we are, individually and together. It's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
"Changed us, yeah," I echo, feeling the truth of his words deep in my bones. I glance at the clock again—only moments now until she walks through that door. Until I ask for more than a year, for a forever that's as unpredictable as it is coveted.
"Then let's show her that. Whatever she decides, let's just... make tonight about love," Chess suggests, his usual mischievous grin softening into something more sincere.
"Love," I repeat, the word feeling like a vow on my lips. It's time to face the future, whatever it may hold.
I tap my foot, a rapid staccato against the floorboards. The clock is an enemy, moving too slow then too fast, mocking me with its steady tick-tock. My eyes dart toward the digital numbers, willing them to speed up.
"Bro, if you check the time one more time, I'm gonna tape your eyes shut," Dre threatens from across the room, his ice blue eyes glinting with humor beneath the fall of his blond hair.
"Seriously, Saint, you're more jittery than Chess on his third espresso shot," he adds, chuckling as Chess shoots him a mock scowl from where he's sprawled on the couch.
"Easy for you to say," I grumble, running a hand through my dark curls. "You're not the one about to—"
"About to what? Make the grandest romantic gesture ever?" Chess cuts in, sitting up straighter with excitement gleaming in his hazel eyes. "Because that's all you’re doing, man."
"Grand" feels like an understatement. This isn't just a gesture; it's my heart laid bare, a plea for a future with Addy, our Princess. She's everything—our anchor, our storm, our peace. And suddenly, ten minutes feels like a lifetime and a blink all at once.
"Addy loves you, you know. Loves us," Chess says softly, the teasing tone gone now, replaced by the warmth I've come to rely on from my brothers-in-arms.
"Doesn’t mean she’ll want to—" I start to object, but Chess cuts me off again.
"Saint, she's as much in this as we are. She's not going anywhere."
His reassurance sinks into my bones, steadying the tremor of nerves that threaten to rattle me apart. I need to believe him, believe that what we have is stronger than the sum of our pasts, stronger than the fear clawing at my insides.
Dre nods in agreement, his scars and tattoos a visible testament to battles fought and won. "He's right. You've got nothing to worry about. You're offering her something real. Something none of us ever thought we’d have."
Something real. That's what this past year has been. Real laughter, real pain, real love. Something worth fighting for, dying for, living for. I stand up, rolling my shoulders back and taking in a deep breath. In this moment, with the clock ticking down the seconds, I realize there’s no turning back.
"I've made my decision," I state, locking my gaze with each of theirs. "I want her forever, and I'm ready to ask for just that."
The weight of those words hangs heavy in the air. It’s a declaration, a commitment, a challenge to the fates that have tossed us around before bringing us together.
"Then let's do this," Dre says, standing up and clapping me on the shoulder. "It’s go time, brother."
Chess grins, all traces of mischief replaced by a solemnity that matches the gravity of the moment. "Forever sounds good to me."
"Forever," I echo, the word now a promise, a hope, a future unfolding with every beat of my racing heart.
The lock clicks and the front door swings open, a sliver of the fading daylight casting shadows into the foyer. "Hello?" Princess's voice, that familiar melody, washes over me from where I stand hidden in the living room.
"Hey, Princess," I call out, my voice steadier than I feel. My heart's a jackhammer against my ribs, betraying my cool exterior.
"Saint? Where are you guys?" There's a slight waver in her words, curiosity laced with something else—excitement, maybe, or confusion.
I don't answer, holding my breath as I listen to her footsteps approach. The soft rustle of her clothes, the gentle padding of her feet on the hardwood floor, it's a symphony building to the crescendo I've been waiting for.
And then, she gasps. A sweet, hitched intake of breath that sings through the air, and I know—she's found them. The first of the notes nestled among the rose petals. Each one penned with trembling hands, ink stained with everything unsaid until now. Confessions. Memories. Promises.
"Saint?" Her voice is closer now, colored with wonder and a touch of disbelief.
"Keep following the trail, Princess," I say, my throat tight. My entire world narrows down to the sound of her movements, the soft sighs and murmurs as she discovers each note.
The anticipation coils tighter within me, a spring wound to its limit. The enormity of what I'm about to do weighs on my shoulders like the heaviest armor, yet I've never felt more vulnerable.
Finally, her silhouette appears in the doorway of the living room. Green eyes meet mine, wide with emotion, and she runs to me. I catch her in my arms, her momentum pressing her body tightly against mine, and she kisses me—passionately, deeply, like she's pouring every ounce of her soul into it.
"Princess," I breathe against her lips, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, those beautiful storms of seafoam and sage. I drop to one knee, my hand finding hers. The room holds its breath, the very air charged with expectation.
"Princess," I start, my voice a thread of sound in the silence, "I can't imagine my life without you anymore. I don't want to." I swallow past the lump in my throat, my gaze locked with hers, seeing all the strength and resilience that defines her, the girl who survived so much and still found a way to love.
"Will you make me the luckiest man alive? Will you stay with me, forever?"
Time stands still. Then, she whispers the word that seals our fates together, simple and monumental all at once. "Yes."
The relief and joy that flood through me are indescribable. I surge to my feet, wrapping her in my arms, burying my face in her blonde hair. This moment, this woman, they're everything. She's everything. And she's said yes. Yes to me, yes to us, yes to a future we'll carve out together, no matter what the world throws our way. Forever.
The taste of Princess's yes lingers on my lips, sweet and binding, as we kiss again. Our embrace is a promise in itself, an unspoken vow that transcends any ring or vow.
"Oi, lovebirds! You're not starting without us, are you?" Dre's voice cuts through the haze of our passion, his tone light but edged with the faintest trace of possessiveness.
Chess steps into the room behind him, grinning wide, his hazel eyes dancing with mischief. With a flourish, he pops the cork on a bottle of champagne, the sound echoing like a starting gun for the celebration to come.
"Congratulations are in order," Chess declares, his gaze locked on us with warmth and something deeper, something fiercer. He pours the golden liquid into flutes, handing one to Dre and then striding over to offer them to us.
"Here's to forever," Dre says, raising his glass, his ice-blue eyes reflecting pride and devotion.
"Forever," Princess echoes, her voice steady even as her hand trembles slightly when she takes the glass. She kisses each of us—a soft, thankful press of lips that speaks volumes of the bond we share.
Glass clinks against glass in a chorus of solidarity before they set their drinks aside, and the atmosphere shifts, charged with a new kind of electricity. The weight of the day's emotions gives way to a more primal urgency as clothes start shedding, discarded pieces marking a trail to what feels like inevitable conclusion.
Princess’s dress falls to the floor like a silk whisper, revealing the goddess within—strong, resilient, unbreakable. She turns to me, her green eyes alight with desire, and without a word drops gracefully to her knees. Her fingers curl around my belt, deftly undoing it as I watch, entranced by the intent in her movements.
"Saint..." she breathes my name like a sacred incantation before taking me into the warm sanctuary of her mouth. My control frays at the edges as I feel her throat close around the tip. A guttural groan wrenches free from deep within my chest, and my hand finds her hair, burying in the soft strands, holding her, guiding her.
"Fuck, Princess," I half-gasp, half-growl, marveling at the trust she places in me. How far she's come, from the guarded girl who fought demons alone to this incredible woman willingly on her knees before me, giving herself to me, to us, completely.
Her gaze locks onto mine, fierce and unyielding, even as she worships me with her mouth. This moment isn't just physical—it's a testament to the journey we've all traveled together, to the darkness we've overcome.
"God, Princess," I whisper, feeling the pull of release beckoning, but fighting to stay present in every sensation, every moment. "You're amazing."
She hums in response, the vibrations sending shivers down my spine. And in that symphony of pleasure and connection, I know that this is only the beginning. There are no more secrets, no more fears, just us and the future we're creating—one where every day is a promise kept, every touch a reaffirmation of the love we've sealed tonight.
"Forever," I promise her, every word etched in the depths of my soul. "I'm yours, we're yours, forever."
My senses are overwhelmed, the sweet scent of Princess's arousal mixing with the tang of champagne in the air. I'm barely holding on to the thread of control as her lips and tongue work over me with a fervor that tells of more than just lust—it speaks of deep, irrevocable devotion.
"Chess," she gasps against my skin, her voice muffled but laden with need. And then I feel him, the warmth of his presence right behind her. His dark hair is a stark contrast against the paleness of her skin as he drops to his knees, his mischievous hazel eyes locked onto mine for a moment before they soften with affection.
"Let me take care of you, Addy," Chess murmurs, his voice a velvet caress that seems to stroke over her body. He runs a finger through her folds, and she quivers, her moan vibrating around me, sending a jolt straight to my core.
"Fuck... yes, Chess," I grunt out, watching as he slowly enters her. Princess tenses around me, her nails digging into my thighs before she melts into a long, drawn-out moan, her green eyes fluttering closed. The sight is pure intoxication—my Princess coming undone at our touch.
"Ah, Dre," Chess grunts as he moves within her, his breath hitching.
I tilt my head back, catching Dre's ice-blue gaze as he stands right behind Chess, his lube-coated hand poised. There's no hesitation in his movements, no faltering of confidence. It’s all fluid motion as he slides into Chess, whose strangled sound slices through the room, raw and primal.
"Shit, Dre," Chess gasps, and it's like a spark to tinder.
As the room fills with the sound of their bodies moving together, I cannot help but feel a mix of arousal and envy. My own desires rampage within me, threatening to overtake my sense of self-control.
I watch as Chess's hips snap back into Dre's, then forward into Princess’s. The heat builds fast and furious within me as I watch them fuck into each other like animals. Their flesh slaps together, sending waves of heat crashing over me, making me even hotter, needier as my Princess takes me even deeper, her fingers reaching down to squeeze my balls.
Sweat trickles down their bodies as the three of them move together in a frenzied dance of passion and possession. My Princess, her face flushed and her eyes glazed with desire as she looks up at me with so much love and raw passion. I try to hold on to some semblance of control as the sensory overload floods my system. But it’s useless.
The room ignites into a frenzy of passion and pleasure, sounds of flesh meeting flesh mingling with the chorus of our moans and groans. Our movements become frenetic, a dance of desire as we each chase the edge of ecstasy.
"Princess," I choke out, feeling my climax building at the base of my spine. "Gonna—"
And then it happens—a cascade of release from all of us, almost in unison. We're a tangle of limbs and lips, of sweat and semen, the evidence of our shared climax painting us in the most intimate of ways.
"Fuck," Dre pants, his voice a husky echo in the aftermath.
"God, I love this," Chess exhales, his voice tinged with awe and satisfaction.
"Forever," I whisper, looking down into Princess's flushed face, seeing in her a reflection of what we've built together. It's a word that holds every unspoken vow, every silent promise. Forever isn't just a span of time—it's us, it's this, it's every moment we choose each other again and again.
The room's air is thick with the scent of lust and love as our breathing steadies. I wrap an arm around Princess, pulling her close against me, her skin still warm and flushed from our shared fervor.
"Snowflake," Dre starts, his voice laced with a depth of emotion that belies his usual playful demeanor. "You know we're all mad about you, right?"
"Completely and utterly," Chess adds, his fingers lazily drawing patterns over the curve of her hip.
Her eyes roam between us, a smile tugging at her lips—a smile that's seen the dark parts of me and hasn't flinched. She nods, the tenderness in her gaze wrapping around my heart like a promise.
"Saint?" she whispers, searching my face. It's the vulnerability in her eyes that undoes me, the silent plea for reassurance.
"Princess," I respond, my throat tight with emotions long caged by fear and doubt. "I've spent so much of my life surrounded by shadows, but you... you shine brighter than any light I've ever known."
A tear slips down her cheek, and I reach to thumb it away, feeling the weight of Dre and Chess's gazes on us. This isn't just about sex or fleeting pleasure; this is the culmination of a year of growth, of healing—of learning that love doesn't always have to hurt.
"Princess, I'm not good with promises; my life's taught me they're often broken. But you," I take a deep breath, steadying the tremble in my voice, "you've become my truth, my peace. So here's my vow, simple and unwavering—I love you. And I promise you forever."
"Forever," she echoes, her voice barely above a whisper, sealing the word between us like a sacred pact.
"Forever," Dre and Chess repeat in unison, their affirmation binding the four of us together in a way that feels as natural as breathing.
I draw Princess into a kiss, slow and deep, each of us savoring the taste of commitment on our tongues. We are a constellation of hearts, bound by choice and desire, and in this moment, I let myself believe in the possibility of an everlasting now.