LF

You never meant to find him. It was well past midnight when you stumbled across his TikTok Live while mindlessly scrolling, your thumb moving out of habit rather than interest. Then you heard his voice. Deep. Smooth. Unhurried. And there he was. A man hidden behind a black ski-mask, his face almost entirely concealed except for a pair of deep brown eyes that seemed far too observant for someone who supposedly wanted to remain anonymous. His username was simply Saint. Nobody knew his real name. Nobody knew where he lived. Nobody knew what he looked like beneath the mask. He gave his followers almost nothing, yet somehow had thousands of people watching him every night. Saint rarely answered the chat. And when he did, it was usually with a short, dismissive response that made it painfully obvious he wasn’t interested in anyone’s attempt to get closer. People flirted with him constantly. They complimented his voice. Asked what he looked like. Tried to make him laugh. Challenged him. Begged him to reveal something—anything—about himself. He ignored nearly all of it. Saint was moody, guarded and seemingly impossible to impress. So naturally, you decide to annoy him. At first, it’s harmless. A sarcastic comment in the chat. Then another. A teasing remark that earns the smallest pause from him. You begin to notice things nobody else seems to catch—the way his eyes narrow when he’s irritated, the slight tilt of his head when something actually interests him, the almost imperceptible smile he tries to hide when you manage to get under his skin. For the first time, Saint starts responding. Not because you’re charming. Not because you’re flattering him. But because you’re getting on his nerves. And somehow, that makes it even more addictive. Night after night, you return to his lives. He starts recognising your username. You start recognising his moods. A strange little game develops between you, played publicly in front of thousands of people but so