Scene: The Morning After – Hong’s room

The first thing Hong feels is the weight.

Not physical — not the hangover, though his head hums faintly, like someone’s whispering just out of earshot. It's heavier than that. Something thick in his chest, a pressure just beneath his ribs.

He blinks into soft morning light. The curtains in his bedroom are half-drawn, letting in a narrow beam that cuts across the white sheets and the wrinkled jacket tossed carelessly on the floor. His jacket. From last night.

His eyes adjust slowly. He turns his head and sees no one beside him.

Nut is gone.

That should make things easier. But it doesn’t.

The memories come back in pieces, soft-edged and disjointed, like watching someone else’s dream.

The pub. The cold air outside. Nina’s hand on his wrist, her voice like perfume.

Then — the others. The look on Nut’s face. The bathroom.

The kiss.

Hong’s stomach turns.

He sits up, pushes a hand through his hair, and lets out a breath that trembles a little. There’s a glass of water on the bedside table — Nut must’ve left it there. It’s untouched. He stares at it for a while before picking it up.

It’s not the kiss he regrets.

It’s everything before it.

The way Nut looked at him when he stumbled out of that pub. Like he was something fragile. Like he’d been hurt and didn’t want to show it. Like he’d been waiting for Hong to choose, and Hong chose wrong — again.

And Nina.

He closes his eyes.

What was he doing? Spending the day with her like nothing had changed, like he hadn’t walked away from her for a reason? What part of him had still been looking for something in that old ruin?

He doesn’t have an answer. Just the awful knowledge that he hurt someone good. Someone who looked at him like he was worth something. Like he could be trusted.

Hong gets up slowly. The floor is cold under his feet.

He walks to the bathroom. He looks at himself in the mirror.

There’s a red mark on his neck. He doesn’t know if it’s from Nina or from Nut.

That makes him feel sick.

He splashes cold water on his face. Leans on the sink. Stares at his reflection and thinks, What are you doing?

He remembers Nut’s voice in the bathroom — “You told me you loved me.”

And he had. He’d meant it. It was the most honest thing he’d said in months.

So why did he end up back in the same mess?

Because part of him doesn’t trust himself to be loved gently. Not after Nina. Not after all the ways he learned to apologize for things that weren’t his fault. He’s still learning that love isn’t supposed to feel like survival.

He dries his face with a towel. Quietly. Slowly.

Somewhere in his room, his phone buzzes.

He doesn’t check it right away.

Instead, he walks to the kitchen, makes himself a coffee with hands that won’t stop trembling, and sits at the table — alone — with the sunlight crawling slowly across the floor, like time trying to forgive him.

Scene: Late Afternoon – The Living Room

The living room is filled with soft, scattered sounds — the muted clatter of someone in the kitchen, the hum of a show playing low on the TV, the occasional rustle of someone shifting on the couch.

They’re all there.

Tui, half-sprawled on the armrest of the sofa, scrolling through something on his phone.

William, flipping through a notebook, occasionally muttering lyrics under his breath.

Lego sits cross-legged on the floor, fiddling with cables, probably pretending to be more focused than he is.

Nut is near the window. Standing. Arms crossed, eyes on something far away. Unreadable.

And Hong —

Hong is curled into the corner of the room, on the edge of the second couch. Not quite part of the group.

Not quite anywhere.

He sits with his knees pulled close, a hoodie swallowing his frame, his head bowed low like it’s too heavy to lift. He’s not looking at anyone. Not speaking. Just listening, half-heartedly, to the distant rhythm of the others being normal. Being together.

No one says anything about last night.

But the tension is thick. The silence, even with the background noise, is felt.

No one brings up Nina.

No one brings up the kiss.

No one brings up how Nut left before dawn and came back with his mouth pressed into a flat, unreadable line.

Hong’s phone buzzes once on the cushion beside him. He doesn't check it. He just turns it over, screen-down.

Lego glances at him once. Long enough to see the slump in his shoulders, the tightness in his hands. But he says nothing. He’s always known more than he lets on — and right now, he knows this isn’t his moment to step in.

Tui yawns. "You guys wanna order something?" he asks, breaking the silence like he’s throwing a stone into still water.

No one answers right away.

“Up to you,” William says eventually. “I’m not really hungry.”

Nut doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

Hong doesn’t even look up.

He can feel Nut’s presence like a storm on the horizon. Too close to ignore. Too far to reach.

And he hates it.

Because he wants to talk. He wants to explain. He just doesn’t know where to begin — or if it’s too late.

The quiet stretches again.

Then, suddenly, Hong gets up.

Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just… stands. Quietly. Like he’s folding into himself.

“I’m going out,” he says softly.

It’s the first thing he’s said in hours.

No one stops him.

Lego watches him go. Tui doesn't even glance up. William frowns faintly, but doesn’t speak.

Only Nut moves.

He turns his head just slightly, eyes tracking Hong to the door.

But he says nothing.

And Hong, without looking back, slips out of the apartment — heart aching, unsure whether he’s running from Nut… or from himself.

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