Scene — Late morning. Practice studio, downtown Bangkok.

The rehearsal room was bathed in pale light from the high windows. A few stray sunbeams filtered through the blinds, cutting across the wooden floor where scuffed sneakers tapped out restless beats. Speakers sat idle. Microphones untouched.

Lego leaned against the mirrored wall, arms crossed, eyes scanning the room like he was counting something that didn’t add up. William sat on the edge of the riser, quietly checking messages on his phone. Hong was pacing near the corner, tapping a pen against his palm, clearly annoyed but trying not to show it.

The air felt unusually still.

Tui’s spot on the floor — second from the left — remained empty.

“Still no reply?” William asked without looking up.

Lego shook his head. “Nothing. Not last night. Not this morning.”

“He never misses rehearsal,” Hong said, finally stopping his pacing. “Even when he’s sick, he shows up and tries.”

Nut stood near the soundboard, headphones around his neck, adjusting a dial he didn’t really need to touch. He hadn’t said much. He rarely did unless he had to. But now, they were all looking at him.

“Nut,” Lego said, his tone careful, “you haven’t heard anything either?”

Nut paused. His hand stilled on the volume knob. The silence stretched.Then, quietly, he said, “I know where he is.”

The others straightened.

“He’s safe,” Nut added before anyone could speak. “But he needs space. I told him I’d cover for him.”

Hong frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Nut met his eyes, steady. “It’s not my place to say.”

William opened his mouth, then closed it again, reading the gravity in Nut’s face. Lego glanced toward Tui’s empty spot once more, concern shifting behind his usually calm expression.

“So what do we do?” Hong asked eventually.

“We rehearse,” Nut said. “We hold the line for him until he’s ready to come back.”

No one argued with that. Not because they weren’t worried, but because Nut had never looked more certain about anything.

And that certainty was enough — for now.

William sighed and rose to his feet. “Then let’s warm up.”

As the others started moving — slowly, distractedly — Nut took one last look at Tui’s empty place.

Take your time, he thought. We’ve got you covered.

And the music, eventually, began again.

Scene — Early evening. Outside the rehearsal studio, near the parking lot.

The sun was beginning to fall behind the buildings, casting long shadows across the pavement. The street was quieter now, the buzz of rehearsal fading into the muffled thump of closing doors and distant traffic.

Nut stood by his car. He moved with quiet purpose, keys already in his fingers.

From behind, footsteps approached. Fast. Determined.

“Nut,” Hong called.

Nut turned. Hong was standing a few feet away, hands in the pockets of his jacket, face tight with frustration.

“You’re going to Tui’s, aren’t you?”

Nut didn’t answer right away. He just gave a small nod.

“I want to come,” Hong said. “I care about him too.”

“I know,” Nut said gently. “But not tonight.”

Hong’s brows furrowed. “Why not?”

Nut took a slow breath. He didn’t want to lie — but he couldn’t give away what wasn’t his to tell.

“He’s not ready to see everyone yet,” he said. “He asked me not to bring anyone.”

“So he’s talking to you.” The edge in Hong’s voice wasn’t anger, not really. It was hurt. “But not to us. Not to me.”

Nut took a step closer. “It’s not about trust, Hong. It’s about space. He’s overwhelmed. He’s going through something and... I think he just needed one person to hold it for now.”

“And it had to be you.”

That landed heavier than either of them expected. Nut looked at him, steady.

“I didn’t choose to be the one. He just... reached out. I was there.”

Hong looked away, jaw tightening. “I hate this.”

“I know.”

“I hate not knowing if he’s okay.”

“I know.”

Hong’s eyes flicked back up to Nut’s, stormy with unspoken worry. “And I hate that you won’t let me help.”

Nut’s voice softened. “It’s not about letting. It’s about respecting what he asked. I’m protecting that.”

For a moment, Hong didn’t speak. The wind tugged gently at his hair. Cars passed behind them, distant and irrelevant.

Then, he nodded, barely.

“Fine,” he said, his voice low. “But tell him... tell him I’m here. Even if he’s not ready.”

Nut nodded. “I will.”

Hong stepped back, retreating into the shadows of the studio’s entrance.

Nut got into the car , heart heavier than before. As he pulled away, he checked the mirror once — Hong still standing there, arms crossed, a storm in his eyes.

He would wait.

Because that’s what you do when someone you love is hurting, even if you’re not the one they turn to first.

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