one shot

winnysatang

Satang's heart pounded as he slipped back into the house, the warmth of the evening's laughter still lingering on his skin but rapidly being replaced by a growing sense of dread. He had made a decision earlier that night, one driven by a desperate need for freedom, even if only for a few hours. The intensity of his relationship with Winny had begun to feel suffocating, like a pressure cooker ready to explode. He loved Winny deeply, but sometimes, the weight of their bond felt like it was crushing him.

The night out with friends had been a rare respite. For a few brief hours, Satang had felt a sense of normalcy, a chance to breathe without the constant shadow of Winny's presence. But now, as he closed the door behind him and faced the dim, silent house, the reality of what he had done settled heavily on his shoulders.

The house was dark, save for a small lamp that cast long, eerie shadows across the living room. Satang's stomach twisted as he saw Winny standing by the window, his back turned. The rigid set of his shoulders, the way his hands were clenched at his sides—it all spoke of the storm brewing within him.

Satang swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "Winny..." he began softly, hoping to break the tension with his voice. But as soon as the word left his lips, Winny's head snapped around, his eyes locking onto Satang's with a look that froze him in place.

"Where were you?" Winny's voice was calm, too calm. It was the kind of calm that Satang had learned to fear more than anything. There was no yelling, no immediate outburst—just that deadly calm that signaled something far worse brewing beneath the surface.

Satang took a hesitant step forward, his heart hammering in his chest. "I... I went out for a bit," he stammered, his voice trembling. "I needed some time to clear my head. I'm sorry, Winny. I didn't mean to worry you."

"Time to clear your head?" Winny repeated, his tone icy. He turned fully to face Satang, his gaze intense and unwavering. "And you didn't think to tell me where you were going? To let me know you were safe?"

"I'm sorry," Satang whispered, the words feeling inadequate on his tongue. He could see the hurt in Winny's eyes, the betrayal simmering just beneath the surface of his anger. It made Satang's heart ache, but he also knew that nothing he said now would change what was coming.

Winny's expression hardened, the fury in his eyes unmistakable. He took a step toward Satang, his movements slow and deliberate. "Sorry isn't good enough," he growled, his voice low and dangerous.

Before Satang could react, Winny closed the distance between them, his hand latching onto Satang's wrist with a grip that was firm, almost bruising. Winny didn't say another word as he pulled Satang toward the bedroom, his pace quick and unyielding. Satang stumbled, trying to keep up, his mind racing with fear and regret. He had known Winny would be angry, but this... this was something else entirely.

As soon as they reached the bedroom, Winny pushed Satang onto the bed with a force that left him momentarily breathless. Satang looked up at him, his eyes wide with a mixture of fear and desperation. "Please, Winny... I'm really sorry," he pleaded, his voice trembling. "I won't do it again. I swear."

But Winny wasn't listening. His eyes were dark, filled with a fierce determination that made Satang's blood run cold. There was no reasoning with him when he was like this—no words that could calm the storm raging inside him. Winny's hands moved quickly, roughly, as he tore at Satang's clothes, yanking them off with a ferocity that made Satang wince.

Satang lay trembling on the bed, his body exposed and vulnerable beneath the weight of Winny's anger. The air between them crackled with tension, thick and suffocating, as Winny's dark eyes bore into him. Satang's heart raced, each beat echoing in his ears as he waited for what was to come. He had crossed a line by sneaking out without telling Winny, and now, he was about to face the full force of Winny's wrath.