TWISTED THREAD

Part 11: The Fallout

Santa's lips still burned.

Not from regret.

But from the way Perth kissed him back.

From the way Perth held him, like he was afraid to let go.

From the way their bodies fit together so perfectly.

And yet—

Santa was pissed.

Because Perth was hot and cold.

Because one second, he was pulling Santa in—kissing him like he wanted him more than air.

And the next?

He was silent.

Right now, they were in Perth's car.

The tension was thick.

Santa crossed his arms. "So that's it? We just pretend that didn't happen—again?"

Perth gripped the wheel tighter. "That's not what I—"

"Then what, Perth?" Santa turned to him, voice sharp. "Because I'm done playing whatever game this is."

Perth's jaw clenched. "It's not a game."

"Then why do you keep acting like it is?" Santa scoffed. "One minute, you want me. The next, you don't. Make it make sense."

Perth exhaled, knuckles white on the steering wheel.

Santa waited.

But Perth said nothing.

Santa let out a bitter laugh. "Right. That's what I thought."

The car stopped.

They were in front of Santa's place.

Santa opened the door. "Forget it."

Perth caught his wrist.

Santa stilled.

Perth's grip was firm, but his voice was quiet. "I don't want to hurt you."

Santa's chest tightened.

"Then don't."

But instead of saying it, he just pulled his hand away. "Goodnight, Perth."

He didn't look back.

⸻

Perth couldn't sleep.

Because Santa's words were replaying in his head.

"One minute, you want me. The next, you don't."

"Make it make sense."

Perth wanted to.

He just didn't know how.

He ran a hand down his face.

This was getting dangerous.

Because this wasn't just messing around.

This was Santa.

And Perth had no idea how to handle that.

⸻

Boom was smirking.

Because even though Santa had walked away from Perth,

He wasn't walking towards anyone else.

That meant Santa was still vulnerable.

And Boom?

Boom was ready to make his move.

⸻

Santa was exhausted.