SOMETHING LIKE SURRENDER.

Alright, princess. Vincent's choosing to stay, but that doesn't mean it's easy. He's still unsteady, still fighting the instinct to push away. But Zane? Zane isn't letting him slip thr

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Volume 2, Chapter 78 – Something Like Surrender.

Vincent felt the weight of Zane's touch like a brand.

Not heavy. Not forceful. Just… there.

Steady. Grounding.

And Vincent?

He didn't move.

Didn't pull away.

Didn't shove it aside like he always did when something felt too real.

His pulse was still too fast, his breath uneven, his entire body wound tight like a wire about to snap—but for the first time in a long time, he didn't feel like he was fighting against himself.

Didn't feel like he was running from something he couldn't name.

Because Zane wasn't pushing.

He was just waiting.

Giving Vincent the space to choose.

And that? That was the part that terrified him the most.

Because he didn't know how to choose this.

Didn't know how to want something without destroying it in the process.

But he wanted to.

God, he wanted to.

Zane's fingers curled slightly, the softest pressure against Vincent's arm. Not demanding. Not coaxing. Just reminding.

"I meant it," Zane said quietly. "You won't lose me."

Vincent's throat tightened.

He didn't deserve that.

Didn't deserve this patience.

This unwavering loyalty.

This relentless belief that he was worth staying for.

He swallowed hard, his voice rough when he finally spoke. "Why?"

Zane's gaze didn't waver. "Why what?"

Vincent clenched his jaw, forcing the words out. "Why do you still try?"

Zane exhaled slowly, eyes searching his face. "Because you're worth it."

Vincent's stomach twisted. He shook his head. "You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

Simple. Steady.

Like there wasn't a single doubt in Zane's mind.

Like Vincent hadn't spent months trying to prove otherwise.

Vincent dragged a hand through his hair, frustration curling inside him like a storm. "I don't know how to be what you need."

Zane's gaze softened. "Who said you had to be?"

Vincent stilled.

Zane stepped closer—just a fraction.

Enough for Vincent to feel his warmth, to feel the steadiness in the way he looked at him.

"I never asked you to be perfect, Vincent," Zane murmured. "I just asked you to be here."

Vincent's chest ached.

Because fuck—he had spent so long thinking he had to be something.

Someone better. Someone stronger. Someone not weighed down by the things he carried.

But Zane had never asked for that.

Zane had only ever asked for him.

And now? Now he had no excuses left.

Vincent exhaled sharply, tilting his head back, staring at the ceiling like it held all the answers he didn't have.

"I don't know how to do this," he admitted again, quieter this time.

Zane's lips quirked slightly. "Then let's figure it out together."

Vincent let out a slow, shaky breath.

Because maybe—just maybe—he could.

And for the first time in his life—

That didn't feel like a weakness.

But it still felt terrifying.

Zane watched him for a long moment, like he was waiting for Vincent to bolt.

Vincent didn't blame him.

It was what he had always done, wasn't it? The second something got too close, too real, too much—he pulled back. Built walls. Ran.

But this time, he was still here.

The weight of that settled deep in his chest, uncomfortable and unfamiliar, like wearing a new skin that didn't quite fit yet.

Zane must have seen it on his face, because his expression softened even more. "You don't have to have it all figured out, Vincent."

Vincent let out a dry, humorless laugh. "Yeah? Because it feels like I do."

Zane shook his head. "You just have to stop running."

Vincent swallowed hard.

And Zane must have known how hard that was for him, because his next words were quieter, gentler.

"Stop thinking about how to do this. Just… be here. With me."

Vincent's hands curled into fists at his sides.

Not out of anger.

Not out of frustration.

Just to ground himself, because it was the only thing keeping him from shaking.

He forced himself to meet Zane's gaze. "And if I mess it up?"

Zane's lips curved, a quiet sort of fondness in his expression. "Then you mess it up."

Vincent frowned.

Zane lifted a shoulder in a lazy half-shrug. "Then we figure it out. You think I expect you to get it right all the time?" He huffed a soft laugh. "Hell, Vincent—I don't even get it right all the time."

Vincent swallowed again.

Zane's voice was quieter now. "But I don't want perfect. I don't want easy. I just want you."

Vincent exhaled shakily.

No one had ever said that to him before.

No one had ever meant it.

His chest ached, something raw and unfamiliar clawing its way through him.

He wasn't sure what it was.

Only that it hurt.

Only that it felt terrifying and overwhelming and impossible and—

God.

He wanted it.

Didn't just want it. He needed it.

And that?

That was the scariest thing of all.

Vincent's voice was barely more than a whisper when he finally spoke. "Okay."

Zane's brow furrowed slightly. "Okay?"

Vincent swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe. "Okay."

Zane's lips parted, his eyes searching Vincent's face, like he was waiting for him to take it back.

Vincent didn't.

He couldn't.

Because for the first time in his life—

He didn't want to run.

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