Scene — Late evening. The boyfriend’s apartment.

Tui sat curled on the edge of the couch, arms around himself, his shoulders hunched like he was trying to disappear into his hoodie. The room was dimly lit, sterile, silent.

The man stood by the window, drinking something out of a glass. He hadn’t spoken for several minutes, just watching the city through the glass. That kind of silence always scared Tui more than the shouting. The quiet always came first — before the storm.

Then the voice came. Too casual.

“You’re acting cold.”

Tui shook his head quickly. “I’m just tired. That’s all.”

“That’s not it.”

The man turned. His eyes were sharp now, his smile bitter.

“You’ve been distant for weeks. Like you think I don’t notice. Every time I try to touch you, you flinch.”

“I’m sorry,” Tui whispered. “I didn’t mean to.”

The boyfriend stepped closer. “Are you seeing someone else?”

“No.”

“Is it one of them? Is it that pretty one you’re always posting with?”

“No — there’s no one, I swear.” Tui’s voice cracked. “It’s just been a lot lately. I’m tired, that’s all.”

The man stared at him for a beat too long, then sat down hard beside him, making the couch jolt under the weight. Tui didn’t move.

A hand landed on his thigh.

“I miss you.”

Tui stiffened.

“I said,” the man repeated, slower this time, “I miss you.”

Tui forced a nod. “Okay.”

But his voice was small, and his body didn’t respond. That hesitation was all it took.

In the next breath, the man’s hand struck his face — harder than before.

Tui gasped, more from shock than pain. His cheek stung, and his eyes welled up fast.

The second blow landed against his arm when he tried to shield himself.

“You think you can deny me now? After everything I’ve done for you?”

Tui sobbed then — quiet, broken. “Please stop…”

But the man wasn’t done. He pushed Tui back against the cushions, not with force meant to restrain, but to remind. To dominate.

“I could ruin you,” he hissed. “I will, if you keep pulling away from me. If you ever leave me for them.”

“I won’t,” Tui whispered through tears, voice shaking. “I promise, I won’t.”

The man finally stood. The storm passed as quickly as it came.

He walked away like nothing had happened, leaving Tui crumpled on the couch — trembling, silent, broken open inside.

Tui wiped his face with his sleeve, but the tears kept coming.

Scene — Past midnight. The boyfriend's apartment.

The couch creaked softly under Tui's weight as he shifted in his sleep. His hoodie was half-zipped, the blanket barely covering him. A dull lamp from the kitchen cast a low glow across the room.

He didn't hear the bedroom door open.

Didn't hear the bare footsteps approaching until the man stood above him.

"Tui."

Tui stirred, still half-asleep. "Mmm?"

"You're sleeping out here again," the voice said flatly. "You think I don't notice when you avoid me?"

Tui blinked himself awake, heart already starting to race. "I just didn't want to wake you. I was — just tired."

The man crouched down beside him. Reached out and touched the zipper of Tui's hoodie. "Tired of me?"

Tui flinched, gently pulling the blanket up. "No..."

But the boyfriend's hand didn't stop. He tugged the blanket away and started to unzip the hoodie slowly. Tui's breath caught.

"Don't," he said quietly, sitting up. "Please, not now."

"You always say that lately," the boyfriend snapped, voice sharp now. "You forget who takes care of you."

Tui pulled away, clutching the fabric tighter, but the man was stronger. In one quick motion, he yanked the hoodie down, revealing Tui's bare chest — and the small tattoo etched beneath his ribs.

Simple black numbers. A date.

The boyfriend stared at it, face hardening.

"What the hell is this?"

Tui froze.

"It's nothing," he whispered.

"You got a tattoo and didn't tell me?" His voice dropped into something cold and dangerous. "What does it mean? Who gave you this? Who were you thinking about?"

"It's just a date," Tui said quickly. "It's for myself. Just me."

The man stood up suddenly, pacing the room in tight circles. His fists clenched.

"You're lying again. You're hiding things again."

Tui pulled his hoodie back over his shoulders, fingers trembling.

"I'm not," he pleaded.

But the boyfriend turned back to him, eyes burning now.

"I don't care what it means," he said. "You don't get to mark yourself like that without asking me first. You don't get to belong to anyone but me."

Then, voice low.

"Take it off."

Tui looked up, confused. "What?"

"All of it. Hoodie. Shirt. Everything. Now."

"No — please — "

The man moved forward fast, grabbing Tui's wrist. His grip was iron. Tui cried out softly, struggling, panic rising.

"Don't fight me. You don't want to make me angry."

Tui shut his eyes, shaking his breath. "Please don't hurt me again."

That finally made the man pause. His face twitched.

Then he shoved Tui back down onto the couch.

"I should've never let you get close to them," he said bitterly. "They made you soft. They made you forget who you really are."

Scene — Late night, inside the boyfriend’s apartment.

Tui sat on the edge of the couch, head bowed, heart pounding in his chest. The room was heavy with silence, thick like a storm about to break.

The boyfriend stood over him, eyes dark and cold.

“You think you get to decide when and how?” His voice was low, dangerously calm. “You belong to me. Not the other boys. Not your stupid tattoo. Not your excuses.”

Tui swallowed hard, voice barely a whisper. “Please… I’m tired. I don’t want to — ”

The man’s face twisted with rage.

“Stop lying to me. Stop resisting.”

Before Tui could react, the boyfriend grabbed his arm roughly, yanking him up.

“You’re testing me.”

Tui’s breath hitched. “Please don’t — ”

A sharp shove sent him stumbling backward.

“You don’t want this. Fine.”

The boyfriend’s voice dropped to a cruel whisper. “Then get the hell out. Now.”

Tui’s legs felt like jelly. His eyes wide, shock freezing him for a moment.

“Please — ” he started again.

But the man was already turning away.

Tui shuffled toward the door, hands shaking, barely able to breathe. The cold night air hit him the moment the door swung open.

The slam behind him echoed in the empty hallway.

He stood there for a long moment — alone, scared, and abandoned.

Scene — 1:43 a.m. Outside the boyfriend's apartment.

The front door slammed shut behind him.

Tui stood barefoot in the hallway, holding his shoes in one hand, his phone in the other. His hoodie was half-zipped, his bag nowhere to be seen. The hallway was silent, empty, sterile. Even the air felt cold.

He stared at the door for a few seconds, stunned. Not crying. Not yet.

Just... frozen.

The last words still echoed in his ears.

"If I mean nothing to you, then get out. Go back to your perfect little group. See how long they still want you when they find out who you really are."

He tried to reason with him. He had tried to hold on, to explain, to promise — but not to give in. And that was enough to break whatever was left.

The man's face was twisted with disgust.

The shouting.

The grab at his arm.

The shove.

And now — this.

Thrown out like garbage.

Tui blinked down at his phone. The screen was cracked at the corner from when it hit the floor earlier. His fingers hovered over the contact list.

He scrolled past Lego.

Past William.

Past Hong.

Then stopped at Nut.

Tui hesitated. His heart beat hard in his throat.

Would Nut pick up? Would he be angry? Ask questions Tui couldn't answer?

Please... just come. Don't ask anything. Just be there.

His thumbs moved.

Text to Nut:

Are you awake? Can you come get me? I'm near Sathorn... I'll send the pin. I'm sorry. Please don't tell anyone.

A moment passed. Then another.

And then: Message read.

His breath caught. He waited.

Three dots appeared.

Nut:

I'm already on my way. Just stay where you are.

Tui sank to the floor of the hallway. Still holding his phone. Still clutching his shoes.

And then — finally — he let himself cry. Not loud. Not messy. Just the quiet, exhausted tears of someone who didn't know how much more he could take... but had taken the first small step towards being saved.