A LINE WE CAN'T UNCROSS.

Volume 3, Chapter 81 – A Line We Can't Uncross

Vincent didn't sleep much.

He wasn't sure if it was the weight of the night before or the unfamiliar warmth of someone else beside him, but the quiet had never felt so loud. Every shift of fabric, every slow, steady inhale from Zane, every inch of space between them—it all felt heavier than it should.

He could feel Zane there. Warm, solid, steady.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Because this wasn't just a kiss. Wasn't just stolen moments in the dark.

This was a choice.

And Vincent? He didn't know how to trust choices that weren't made out of desperation or necessity. He didn't know how to trust himself with something that felt real.

But Zane was still here.

Still breathing beside him.

Still close enough that if Vincent reached out, just a little—

He could touch.

That thought sent something sharp through him, something restless. He was used to keeping people at arm's length, used to craving connection but never actually reaching for it.

But Zane?

Zane made it feel easy.

Like Vincent didn't have to second-guess every move, didn't have to brace himself for the moment it all turned to ash.

And maybe that was what scared him the most.

Because easy things never lasted.

The first hint of morning bled into the room, casting soft shadows over Zane's face. Vincent watched him, fingers twitching at his side.

He shouldn't be staring.

Shouldn't be thinking about the night before.

Shouldn't still feel the ghost of Zane's lips on his own.

But he did.

And maybe that was why, when Zane stirred, blinking sleepily at him—Vincent didn't look away.

Didn't move.

Didn't stop him when Zane reached out, his fingers brushing lightly against Vincent's wrist.

"Morning," Zane murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Vincent swallowed. "Yeah."

Silence.

Then—

Zane's fingers traced a slow path up Vincent's arm, barely there, just enough to make his skin prickle.

"Still scared?" Zane asked softly.

Vincent exhaled shakily. "Always."

Zane's lips quirked. "Good."

Vincent arched a brow. "Good?"

Zane's fingers curled gently around Vincent's wrist. "Means you care."

Vincent's stomach twisted. He should pull away. Should shut this down before it became something bigger than he could handle.

But he didn't.

Because maybe it was too late for that.

Maybe it had always been too late.

Zane sat up slightly, his gaze steady, waiting. Letting Vincent decide.

And Vincent—

Vincent made the mistake of looking at his lips.

A mistake. A decision. A line he couldn't uncross.

Because the next thing he knew, he was leaning in.

And this time?

This time, there was no hesitation.

This time, Vincent kissed him first.

Zane made a quiet sound—half surprise, half something else—but he didn't pull away.

Didn't rush.

Didn't take control.

He let Vincent come to him. Let him set the pace, the pressure, the rhythm of it.

And Vincent?

Vincent was unraveling.

Because this was different.

Not frantic. Not reckless. Not desperate.

It was slow.

Deliberate.

Like Zane wasn't just kissing him—he was learning him.

Vincent shivered as Zane's fingers ghosted over his jaw, tilting his head just slightly, deepening the kiss in a way that sent something molten down his spine. His pulse was a wild, unsteady thing, his breath tangled in his throat, and when Zane finally pulled back, Vincent barely registered the loss of warmth before Zane's forehead rested lightly against his.

The silence between them stretched.

Not tense. Not uncertain.

Just… there.

Settled.

Zane's fingers brushed against Vincent's again, slow and deliberate. "You okay?"

Vincent swallowed.

He should say no.

Should say that his chest was too tight, that he didn't know what the hell he was doing, that this was the most terrifying thing he'd ever let himself want.

But that wasn't what came out.

"…Yeah."

Zane's thumb swept over the inside of Vincent's wrist, barely there. "Good."

Vincent exhaled sharply. "You're annoyingly smug right now."

Zane grinned. "You're annoyingly stubborn."

Vincent scowled, but his fingers curled just a little tighter around Zane's.

Zane didn't comment on it.

Didn't push.

Just smiled.

Like he knew.

And Vincent?

Vincent let him.

Because for once in his life—

He wasn't afraid of being seen.

He wasn't afraid of being wanted.

He wasn't afraid of staying.

But wanting something and knowing how to keep it?

That was a different battle entirely.

And Vincent had a feeling this was only the beginning.