HOLDING BACK, HOLDING ON.

Zk,oAlright, princess. Vincent is standing

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Volume 2, Chapter 74 – Holding Back, Holding On.

Vincent's fingers were still curled around Zane's wrist.

A small touch. Barely anything.

But it felt like everything.

Zane didn't move. Didn't push.

Didn't breathe.

He just stood there, waiting.

And Vincent?

Vincent didn't know what to do with that.

His pulse pounded, his mind screaming at him to let go, to step back before this turned into something he couldn't control.

But he didn't.

Because for the first time in his life—

He didn't want to let go.

Zane's voice was barely above a whisper. "Vincent."

Vincent swallowed hard. "Don't."

Zane's gaze flickered, something unreadable passing through his eyes. "Don't what?"

Vincent exhaled sharply. "Don't say my name like that."

"Like what?" Zane took a step closer, the space between them shrinking to almost nothing. "Like it means something?"

Vincent clenched his jaw. "Like it's yours to say."

Silence.

Heavy. Thick.

Then—

Zane tilted his head slightly, his voice quieter now. "Isn't it?"

Vincent's breath caught.

Because he didn't have an answer to that.

Or maybe he did.

Maybe he just wasn't ready to say it.

His grip on Zane's wrist tightened for the briefest second before he forced himself to let go, stepping back, putting distance between them.

"I can't," Vincent said. The words felt like broken glass in his throat.

Zane's jaw tightened. "Can't or won't?"

Vincent didn't answer.

Couldn't.

Because the truth?

The truth was that it wasn't can't.

It was shouldn't.

And Zane knew it.

Zane exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. "You're a damn coward, you know that?"

Vincent's head snapped up, something sharp flaring in his chest. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me." Zane's eyes burned. "You want this, Vincent. You just don't want to admit it."

Vincent's hands curled into fists. "You don't know what you're talking about."

Zane huffed out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. "I know exactly what I'm talking about."

He stepped forward again, closing the space Vincent had just put between them.

"You think this is just about me?" Zane's voice was steady, certain. "You think I don't see the way you look at me when you think I'm not paying attention? The way you don't pull away when I get too close?"

Vincent inhaled sharply. "Zane—"

"No." Zane's voice was firmer now. "You don't get to tell me this isn't real. Not when I feel it every time you look at me."

Vincent's chest ached. His walls were cracking, but he didn't know if he was ready to let them fall.

Didn't know if he could.

Zane shook his head, stepping back this time. "You don't have to say it, Vincent." His voice was quieter now. "But don't stand here and lie to me either."

Silence.

Vincent's throat felt tight.

His heart ached with the weight of everything he wasn't saying.

But Zane was right.

He was a coward.

And until he figured out how to stop being one—

This?

This was as far as he could go.

Zane exhaled slowly, giving him one last look before turning toward the door.

Vincent could have stopped him.

Could have said something.

Could have done something.

But he didn't.

He let him walk away.

And the second the door clicked shut behind him—

Vincent felt like he couldn't breathe.

The weight in his chest pressed down harder, heavier. Like something inside him was caving in.

He dropped onto the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

He had spent so long building walls, keeping people out, convincing himself he didn't need anyone.

But Zane?

Zane had never let those walls stop him.

And now—

Now, Vincent didn't know if he wanted them to.

The truth sat like a stone in his gut.

Because maybe, just maybe—

Zane wasn't the one who needed to prove anything anymore.

Maybe it was Vincent's turn.

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