Scene — 11:47 p.m. Nut’s apartment

Nut pushed open the door with a soft click, his keys barely jingling in his hand. The air inside was still and quiet, dimly lit by the warm glow of the kitchen light he always left on. He stepped out of his shoes, setting his bag aside, and walked toward the living room.

And then he saw him.

Tui had fallen asleep on the couch, curled slightly on his side, a thin blanket pushed halfway down his body. He was shirtless. The bruises were impossible to miss — deep purple patches across his ribs, faint yellowing finger-marks on his arms, a scraped elbow that looked like it had barely scabbed over.

Nut froze, eyes tracing the damage with quiet horror.

He didn’t speak. Didn’t rush forward. Just stood there, absorbing the weight of it, the truth that Tui hadn’t said out loud yet but was clearly etched across his skin.

Then Tui stirred.

His eyes blinked open, dazed at first. When he saw Nut, his expression tightened. Shame flickered in his gaze. He moved quickly to pull the blanket up over his chest, as if that could erase what Nut had seen.

Nut sat down slowly on the edge of the coffee table, facing him. He didn’t speak. Just waited.

Tui sat up a little, arms wrapping around himself protectively. He didn’t meet Nut’s eyes.

“You saw, didn’t you.”

Nut nodded once. “Yeah.”

A long silence followed.

Then Tui exhaled, voice low and flat. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I didn’t mean for you to find out like this.”

“You don’t have to explain,” Nut said gently. “But if you want to talk, I’m here.”

Another pause. Then Tui said, so softly it was almost lost in the air between them:

“My boyfriend hits me.”

Nut’s hands folded in his lap. He stayed quiet.

Tui continued, voice trembling. “He’s… not always like that. He’s sweet, sometimes. Then he gets angry. Says I’m ungrateful. That I’m lucky he even wants me. And I start believing him. That maybe I’m the problem.”

“No,” Nut said, voice steady but not forceful. “You’re not.”

Tui looked down. “He told me if I ever left him, he’d ruin me. He said if the others knew, they’d never look at me the same. That I’m dirty. Broken.”

“You’re not broken,” Nut said, leaning forward. “You are not dirty. You are not less because of what someone did to you.”

Tui’s breath hitched.

For a second, something in his eyes flickered — not relief, not yet. Fear.

Real, raw fear.

He pulled his hand back instinctively, wrapping his arms around his stomach like he was trying to hold himself together. His body seemed smaller somehow, like he was shrinking into the corner of the couch.

Nut didn’t move closer. He didn’t speak. He just stayed, steady and quiet.

Tui’s voice cracked when it finally came.

“But what if he finds out I told you?” he whispered, eyes darting toward the front door. “He gets… he doesn’t just yell, Nut. He — he grabs me. And his eyes go empty. Like there’s nothing human left.”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “If he knew I was here, that I said anything — he’d come for me.”

His words spilled fast, panicked now, tumbling over each other like they’d been bottled up too long. “He has copies of my messages, pictures, things I wish I could erase. He says if I ever betray him, he’ll send them to the label. To the press. Ruin me. Ruin all of us.”

“Tui,” Nut said softly. “Breathe.”

“I am breathing,” Tui snapped, but even then his voice cracked. “I’m trying, I just — I can’t — ”

Nut gently raised a hand, palm up in a quiet offering. Not to touch, not yet. Just to show he was here.

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he said, calm and low. “But I need you to trust me with this, okay? Just like you already did. We’ll take this one step at a time. No sudden moves. No pressure.”

Tui’s shoulders were still trembling.

Then, after a long moment, he reached out and let his fingers barely touch Nut’s.

Like a child afraid of the dark but choosing to believe in the light.

And Nut didn’t say anything more. He just stayed there, hand open, presence quiet and solid beside him. A place where fear could unravel slowly. A place where Tui didn’t have to be strong, just real.

And that — just that — was enough to keep him from falling apart.

Scene — 12:41 a.m. Nut’s apartment.

The apartment was quiet.

Too quiet.

Tui sat curled on the couch in the dark, a blanket drawn over his legs, Nut’s guitar resting silently in the corner like a sleeping animal. The only light came from the screen of his phone, resting dimly on the coffee table in front of him. The quiet hum of the refrigerator was the only sound.

Nut had stepped out just twenty minutes ago — running down to grab something from the convenience store. He hadn’t wanted to leave Tui alone. But Tui had nodded, said he’d be fine.

Now he wasn’t so sure.

His fingers rubbed anxiously at the corner of the blanket, mind buzzing even as the room remained still.

Then the phone lit up.

A message.

Tui leaned forward, every muscle in his body suddenly taut. He already knew who it was.

From: HIM

1:41 a.m.

Where are you?

That was all it said.

No name. No demand. No apology. Just that — five words that made the floor tilt slightly under Tui.

He stared at it. The cold, calculated brevity. The way it wasn’t asking. It was warning.

His breath hitched. He grabbed the phone but didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The letter — no, the message — sat like a live wire in his hands.

He stood, pacing. Every shadow in the apartment now seemed sharper. The door lock felt too simple. The windows too thin. He kept hearing things that weren’t there — footsteps in the hallway, a knock that never came.

His heart pounded.

He put the phone face-down on the table, sat back on the couch, and wrapped his arms tightly around his knees.

Nut would be back soon. He told himself that.

He was safe. He told himself that, too.

But the fear didn’t listen.

Because deep down, some part of him still believed what the message implied — he’ll find me.

And when Nut finally came back, plastic bag in hand, Tui didn’t speak. He just looked up, eyes wide and tired and a little lost.

Nut didn’t need to ask. He saw the phone. The message. The way Tui was holding himself like a dam about to break.

He walked over, sat beside him, and put a hand gently on his back. No questions. Just warmth.

And Tui exhaled.

Not relief. Not yet.

But something closer to it than he’d had in a long, long time.

Scene — 1:57 a.m. Nut’s apartment.

The television was on, volume low — just soft enough to keep the room from feeling too still. Tui sat on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, one hand curled around a lukewarm mug of tea Nut had made earlier. He hadn’t taken more than two sips.

Nut stood by the window, phone in hand. He frowned as it rang again.

“William,” he said aloud, glancing at Tui before answering.

“Hello?”

Tui watched Nut’s expression change — sharp focus replacing calm.

“What do you mean he’s not home?” Nut asked quietly, trying not to startle Tui. “Have you tried calling him?”

Tui sat up straighter.

A pause. Nut’s jaw tightened.

“No answer,” he repeated. “Okay. No, stay there, I’ll… I’ll check around.”

He ended the call and stood still for a moment, already reaching for his keys.

Tui looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”

Nut didn’t want to worry him. But he didn’t lie.

“Hong didn’t come home tonight,” he said. “William can’t reach him. He’s not picking up.”

Tui’s eyes flickered with concern. Then, after a second, they settled.

“You should go,” he said.

Nut turned to him. “Tui — no, I’m not leaving you alone right now.”

“You have to,” Tui said, firmer this time. “He might need you. He might be scared too.”

Nut hesitated.

Tui placed his tea down and pushed the blanket off. He sat upright, vulnerable but clear-eyed. “I’ll be okay. I’m here. I’m safe. You did that for me.”

“Tui…”

“I’m not fine,” he admitted, voice shaking just slightly. “But I’m not helpless. And if it were me out there, Hong would go looking. Just like you.”

Nut stood there, caught between worry for the boy in front of him and fear for the one missing outside.

Tui gave him a small, lopsided smile. “Go. I promise not to disappear.”

Nut moved slowly toward him. He crouched in front of the couch and held out his hand.

Tui took it, gave it a squeeze. “I’ll keep the lights on.”

Nut swallowed, then leaned forward and pressed his forehead briefly against Tui’s. “Lock the door behind me.”

“I will.”

Nut stood, grabbed his jacket, and opened the door. Then paused.

“You text me the second you feel weird, scared, anything.”

“I will,” Tui said. “Go find him.”

And Nut nodded once — grateful, afraid, and fiercely proud.

Then the door shut gently behind him, leaving Tui alone with only the soft hum of the TV and the faint trace of warmth where Nut’s hand had just been.

And though the silence settled heavy again, Tui stayed upright.

A little stronger.

A little braver.

Just enough to make it through the night.

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