3: DRIPPING WET.

"I never asked for your help." Saint seeth his teeth but Nicholas was less bothered about the situation. Rather he managed to place his hand in between the little space available and push his way in.

"Wow, this place looks terrible. Now I get why you're always in a bad mood." He laughed.

Saint bit the corner of his mouth, his eyes rolled up to meet the sky as if begging God for the pill of patience before slamming the door shut.

"You were supposed to be in my room by 7 pm. It's past 7 already and you're not there yet." Nicholas said, putting two hands in his pockets and almost swinging sideways. Saint walked past him, continuing to pack up. It was better that he ignored the idiot rather than waste his precious time arguing.

"I knew there was something about you." Nicholas, who supposedly was there to help Saint pack up, began to yap unnecessarily, walking to and from the room as if he was barking orders. Saint was shaking while simply holding his last piece of clothing. He slammed it into the rest of the luggage and moved with such precise movement that one couldn't have seen coming. He grabbed Nicholas by the collar and the young man stopped speaking.

Something lit in his expression as he saw Saint expressed those eyes again...that emotion of pure rage he had perfectly kept off the surface for months now. Their gazes burned into each other, neither was willing to break eye contact as a silent yet loud battle broke between them.

"Why the fuck are you doing this?"

Nicholas appeared amused with the situation instead. "Doing what?" His replies were flat but despite being that, it was highly triggering to Saint.

"I know how much you hate me so why did you agree to this arrangement, huh?"

"How else can I torture your life and make you regret your existence if you stay far from my reach?" Nicholas smirked and it suddenly made sense why Nicholas had no problem.

"You're a piece of shit and I hope you burn in hell for this." Something flashed quickly across Nicholas eyes, but Saint was too busy with his feelings to even notice.

Nicholas regained composure. "For someone who wants nothing to do with me and probably wants me to say no to this arrangement, you lack respect. Do you know I can still say no and none of this has to ever proceed?"

Saint paused, looking at him from under his lashes. This dude was a maniac, that was for sure.

"So what do you want me to do? Beg at your feet and worship you for that to happen?" Saint yelled to his face. Nicholas shook his head.

"There are other ways to make that happen if you want to."

Then he leaned in so close that he could smell Saint's heady, masculine scent. Saint's breath hitched only for a few seconds. "You smell nice by the way. I see why Gabrielle won't stop following you like a little slut." Then he backed away.

At this point, Saint was full of rage. His face was flushed.

"Mind the way you talk about her."

"Or what?" Nicholas snorted. "What a perfect boyfriend you are." He shrugged, "Anyways, I'll see you in my – oops, our room. I've got a bunch of rules you need to live by so don't be late. I'd be expecting you." He winked and walked to the door but before stepping out, he paused and turned around, pointing a finger toward Saint.

"When you get to my room, feel free to enter without knocking more than once. You don't need to wait for me to open the door for you before you do." He added and exited the room. As soon as the door was closed, Nicholas's smile disappeared, he gulped, tightened his fists before heading somewhere else.

Saint got down on his knees and screamed...only that the sound never made it out.

Nicholas would be the death of him.

About forty minutes later, he was done packing up and by this time, his roommates were back. They sympathised with him, wishing him well on his journey to what they believed was the lion den.

"If he had known, he wouldn't have triggered Nicholas. Now how is he going to survive?"

Saint arrived at the separate hostel reserved for the likes of Nicholas. It was a much bigger building than the usual boys dormitory he was from since the rooms were constructed per occupant. It screamed wealth and the lights were on twenty-four seven. Sons of big men like politicians, ministers and underground mobs resided here.

It was a territory that wasn't trespassed upon unless there was a reason to.

And even at that, Saint remained fearless. He pulled his luggage along with him to the security checkpoint before he was directed to the block where Nicholas's room was. On his way, he noticed how quiet the entire corridor was. It seemed the boys were not around.

Upon getting to the door, he knocked once and was about to knock again when he remembered Nicholas' exact words to him. He exhaled heavily, placed his hand on the handle and pulled it down. The door opened.

The door was password protected but Nicholas hadn't activated that yet. The room was certainly larger than Saint's former hostel room. It was almost three times bigger and the luxurious space was highlighted by the expensive looking things that Nicholas had.

A king-sized bed to the left side of Saint and a television opposite it. At a corner was a space for Nicholas's gaming collections.

His wardrobe was also placed at a side, and all other things were arranged properly. Saint had to give him a thumbs up mentally or at least appreciate the fact that he was orderly.

But where was Nicholas? He wondered as he put his things down and looked around. The door suddenly opened and Nicholas stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of warm steam, one towel slung low around his hips, the other bunched in his hands as he worked it roughly through his wet hair. He wasn't paying attention because he never had to pay attention when he thought he was alone.

So he didn't see Saint until he turned around. The towel stopped moving. Neither of them spoke.

Saint remained still, whatever he had planned to say upon his arrival, he apparently had forgotten because he wasn't saying it. He was just...looking and Nicholas, for once since the two of them knew each other, didn't have a single word to throw at him either.

Water was still trailing down Nicholas's collarbone, finding the slope of his chest, the lean line of his stomach, disappearing beneath the towel at his hips. He wasn't built the way Saint was. He had no broad shoulders or force of presence that took up a room in terms of build. Nicholas was something else entirely.

He was slim and well toned. His skin still flushed from the heat of the shower. His hair was damp, and disordered, half-falling into his face.

Saint's jaw moved. Anyone could have missed that reaction, it was a faint tightening, like he was closing a door very quickly on something he hadn't meant to open.

His eyes didn't move and that was the problem. He was looking at Nicholas the way one looks at something when trying to decide whether it's dangerous. Something shifted in his expression.

Nicholas finally raised an eyebrow and continued rubbing the towel on his head, "Do you usually just stare when you see a naked man or is this a new habit you've developed specifically for me? You like what you see?"

Saint's expression closed. "Get dressed." His voice came out flatter than he probably intended. Nicholas smiled.

"How can I when you're still staring?"

So Saint turned around, looking away first but even at that, he realized there was a mirror in front of him which he could still see Nicholas's reflection.