THE GRAVITY OF STAYING.

Alright, princess. Vincent has stopped running. He's choosing to stay. But now? Now he has to prove

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Volume 2, Chapter 79 – The Gravity of Staying.

Vincent wasn't used to this.

To standing still.

To choosing something and not immediately looking for the nearest escape.

It felt foreign. Unsteady. Like standing at the edge of a cliff, knowing that one wrong step could send him plummeting.

But for once, he wasn't trying to step back.

And that? That was something.

Zane hadn't moved. He was still watching him, still waiting—like he knew this moment was fragile, like he knew one wrong move could shatter it.

Vincent swallowed hard, trying to steady the rapid beat of his pulse. "I don't know what I'm doing."

Zane's lips quirked slightly. "I figured."

Vincent exhaled sharply, something close to frustration curling in his chest. "This isn't funny."

"I know," Zane said easily. "But it is kind of adorable."

Vincent scowled. "Shut up."

Zane chuckled, but there was warmth in his gaze, something that made Vincent's stomach twist.

Because this?

This was what he had been avoiding.

The weight of it.

The way Zane looked at him like he was worth something. The way he meant what he said. The way he wasn't afraid to push but also knew when to let Vincent come to him.

It was terrifying.

Because what if Vincent messed this up?

What if he ruined it like he ruined everything else?

Zane must have seen something shift in his expression, because his smile faded slightly. "Hey." His voice was quieter now. "Stop thinking so much."

Vincent let out a sharp breath. "That's rich, coming from you."

Zane smirked. "Yeah, yeah. I know. But seriously, Vincent—you're allowed to just be here."

Vincent's jaw clenched. "I don't know how."

Zane exhaled softly. "Then let me help."

Vincent's breath hitched.

Because fuck—he wanted that.

He wanted to believe he could have this. That he could be the kind of person who didn't ruin the things he cared about.

But it wasn't that simple.

It never was.

Zane took a slow step forward, closing the last bit of distance between them.

Not too fast. Not too hesitant.

Like he was testing the space between them.

Vincent didn't move.

Didn't pull back.

And Zane? He must have taken that as permission, because his hand lifted—slow, deliberate—before coming to rest against Vincent's cheek.

Vincent tensed.

Not because he didn't want it.

But because it was too much.

Too close. Too real. Too gentle.

His body went rigid, instinct screaming at him to pull away, to create distance, to do something before this moment could sink too deep into his bones.

But Zane's touch didn't change.

Didn't push.

Didn't demand.

Just stayed there, warm and steady, like a silent promise.

Like a reminder.

Vincent swallowed hard. "I don't—" His voice cracked slightly. "I don't know what you expect from me."

Zane's thumb brushed against his cheek, the lightest touch. "Nothing."

Vincent frowned. "That's a lie."

Zane huffed a soft laugh. "Okay, fine. Maybe not nothing." His gaze softened. "But I don't expect you to have all the answers, Vincent. I don't expect you to be anyone but yourself."

Vincent exhaled shakily. "That's the part I don't know how to do."

Zane's grip on him didn't waver. "Then let's start with this."

Vincent hesitated.

Zane tilted his head slightly. "Let me kiss you."

Vincent's breath caught.

Because fuck.

He had thought about it.

More times than he wanted to admit.

But this—this was different.

This wasn't a fleeting thought. This wasn't something he could shove aside and pretend wasn't there.

This was real.

Zane was right here, waiting, giving Vincent the space to decide.

Vincent's stomach twisted. His hands curled into fists at his sides, and for a moment, he thought—I can't do this.

But then—

Zane started to pull away.

Just slightly.

Like he had seen the hesitation on Vincent's face, like he wasn't going to push for something Vincent wasn't ready for.

And that?

That was what made Vincent move.

Before he could think.

Before he could talk himself out of it.

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Zane's wrist, holding him in place.

Zane froze.

Their eyes met.

Vincent's pulse was a mess, his throat tight, his mind screaming at him that this was a bad idea, that he was going to ruin it, that he didn't deserve this.

But he didn't let go.

Didn't step back.

Didn't run.

Zane's gaze flickered with something unreadable. "Vincent?"

Vincent swallowed hard. His grip tightened.

And then, barely above a whisper—

"Okay."

Zane didn't move.

Didn't speak.

Just waited.

Giving Vincent time to change his mind.

He didn't.

So when Zane leaned in—slow, careful, deliberate—Vincent let himself fall.

And for the first time in his life—

It didn't feel like breaking.

It felt like breathing.

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