Scene — 2:31 a.m. Bangkok streets, Nut searching.

Nut’s helmet hung loose on his wrist as he strode down the cracked sidewalk, boots scuffing concrete. He had checked the riverfront, the rooftop, even the bench outside their old dorm.

Nothing.

His jaw was tight. Not just with worry anymore — with anger.

How could Hong disappear like this tonight, of all nights?

Tui was at home, battered and silent, barely holding it together — and now Nut was out here, hunting for someone else who should’ve known better.

His phone buzzed.

William: Someone said they saw him at that pub off Sukhumvit. The one with the red awning.

Nut cursed under his breath.

He knew the place. A cheap, low-light dive where people went when they wanted to get lost — drinks too strong, music too loud, intentions too hazy.

He walked faster.

By the time he reached the front door, a bouncer gave him a lazy once-over. “ID?”

Nut didn’t even slow. “I’m not here to drink.”

Inside, the air reeked of smoke and sweat. The music was pulsing through sticky floors and indifferent bodies.

And there — by the bar — Hong, hunched over a half-empty glass, hood pushed back, hair messy, eyes glazed.

Flirting. Laughing. Or pretending to.

What the hell are you doing, Nut thought bitterly, and pushed through the crowd.

Scene — 2:45 a.m. Inside the pub.

“Hong.”

Hong looked up, slow. “Nut?”

Nut grabbed his wrist, not roughly — but not gently either. “Outside. Now.”

Hong blinked. “I’m not — ”

“I said now.”

People were starting to look. Hong stood, annoyed but not making a scene.

Outside, the street was quieter, humid air clinging to their skin.

Nut spun on him. “Are you serious right now?”

“What?”

“You vanish. You don’t answer your phone. Tui’s at home, barely breathing from what he’s been through, and this — this is what you do?”

Hong bristled. “I didn’t ask to be found, okay?”

“You didn’t need to!” Nut’s voice rose. “We care about you. That comes with a little responsibility.”

“Responsibility?” Hong’s expression cracked into something defensive. “I’m not the one saving everyone all the time, Nut! Maybe I needed to fall apart too!”

Nut stepped closer. “You want to fall apart? Fine. But don’t do it like this. Don’t do it in a place where no one will catch you.”

Hong’s voice dropped. “You don’t get to talk to me like that just because you’re the hero tonight.”

Nut froze.

“Is that what you think this is?” he asked, low and bitter. “Me playing hero?”

Silence.

Then William pulled up in a cab. He got out fast.

“What’s going on?” he asked, looking between them.

Nut stepped back. “Take him home.”

William hesitated.

“I mean it,” Nut said. “I can’t even look at him right now.”

Hong flinched. But he didn’t speak again.

William took Hong’s arm and guided him into the car. The door shut.

Nut stayed outside, fists clenched, shoulders shaking — not from cold, but from the weight of everything he hadn’t said.

The cab pulled away.

He didn’t watch it go.

Scene — 3:36 a.m. The group apartment.

The key turned softly in the lock. William pushed the door open, Hong trailing behind him with tired eyes and slumped shoulders.

Inside, the apartment was dim, lit only by the streetlight glow filtering through the curtains. The living room was still, the air heavy with the kind of silence that says someone waited up.

Lego stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, hoodie thrown over his pajamas, hair messy from running his hands through it too many times. He hadn’t gone to bed. He hadn’t been able to.

The moment he saw Hong, his eyes sharpened — not angry, but taut with worry. “Where the hell were you?”

Hong opened his mouth to answer, but William stepped in fast.

“Lego,” he said, calm but firm. “Not now.”

“But he —”

“I said not now.”

Lego froze, lips parting like he wanted to argue — but then he looked at Hong again. Really looked. At the way his shoulders caved inward. At the clouded shine in his eyes.

Whatever Lego had been about to say vanished.

He ran a hand through his hair. “You scared the shit out of us.”

“I know,” Hong murmured.

Lego didn’t reply. Just turned away and went down the hallway toward his room.

A door clicked shut.

William let out a breath.

“You want water?”

“No.”

“Shower?”

“No.”

“Okay,” William said, taking off his jacket. “Sit down, then.”

They moved to the couch. Hong sank into the corner, drawing his knees up slightly. William sat beside him, not too close, elbows resting on his knees.

“I didn’t mean to make everything worse,” Hong said, after a long pause. “I just — Tui’s going through hell, and Nut’s holding everything together, and I... I didn’t know how to exist in that without screwing something up.”

William nodded slowly. “You feel like there’s no space for your mess.”

“Exactly.”

“But you do have space. We’re not here to compare pain. You’re allowed to be struggling even if someone else is too.”

“I didn’t think Nut would be so angry.”

“He wasn’t angry that you were hurting,” William said gently. “He was angry that you were hiding where no one could find you.”

Silence again. Then:

“Do you think he hates me now?”

William looked at him. “Nut? No. He might be hurt. But he doesn’t hate you.”

Hong swallowed. “I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Start with sleep,” William said. “Tomorrow, show up. Say what you need to say. Don’t pretend. Just be real.”

Hong gave a slow, tired nod.

And when he leaned his head to the side — just slightly, just enough — William let him rest it against his shoulder.

No more talking. No pressure to explain.

Just the sound of the city outside, the quiet of the apartment, and the presence of someone who stayed.

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