Scene — 3:49 a.m. Nut’s apartment.

The mug lay on the coffee table now, half-full, its warmth long gone. Tui had managed to calm down — a little. He hadn’t texted Nut. He just curled deeper into the blanket and tried not to think about the man outside the glass.

He almost convinced himself he imagined it.

Until the door clicked.

Not the glass door.

The front door.

The knob turned with quiet finality.

Tui sat up straight, his breath caught in his chest.

The door opened.

And he was there.

In the doorway. His boyfriend.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood there, eyes scanning the apartment, landing on Tui like a weight.

“How cozy,” he said, stepping inside. “You ran to him?”

Tui stood, blanket falling away. “You can’t be here. How did you — ”

“Don’t ask stupid questions,” he snapped. “You think I don’t know where he lives? You think I don’t see everything?”

Tui stepped back as the door clicked shut behind him. “Please. Just leave.”

He crossed the room too fast.

Tui flinched before he was even close.

A hand grabbed his wrist — too hard, not violent, but threatening enough. Enough to make Tui’s stomach flip.

“After everything I’ve done for you, you come crying to them? You make me look like the villain?”

“I didn’t — ” Tui tried to pull away.

“Liar.”

The argument escalated — low and bitter, and then sharp. A sudden motion — a sweep of the hand across the table — and the mug flew off, shattering against the floor. Tea splashed up the wall. Fragments skittered across the tile like startled insects.

Tui flinched again, backing away.

“Look at you,” the man sneered. “Hiding in someone else’s clothes, in someone else’s life. You think this makes you safe?”

Tui’s breath hitched. He was trying not to cry. Not because he wasn’t afraid, but because he was tired of crying.

“Get out,” he said. Quiet. Not strong, but steady.

“What?”

“I said get out.”

For a moment, the man looked stunned. Just long enough for Tui to take one more step back.

“I’m not yours,” Tui said. “You don’t get to do this anymore.”

A tense silence.

Scene — 4:02 a.m. Nut’s apartment.

A tense silence stretched between them, too still. The air felt tight, the way it does just before glass shatters.

His boyfriend’s expression changed — disbelief curdled into something darker.

“You think you’ve got a say now?” he hissed, stepping forward.

Tui stood his ground, but his breath shook.

And then —

Crack.

The sound echoed sharp and awful in the quiet room.

Tui’s head snapped slightly to the side. His cheek stung, hot and immediate.

The shock was louder than the pain.

He didn’t fall. But he swayed.

Then —

“HEY!”

The front door burst open.

Nut stood in the doorway, eyes wide, chest rising hard with each breath.

For a moment, no one moved.

Then Nut crossed the room in a heartbeat, placing himself between them — between the man and Tui — without hesitation.

“You touch him again,” Nut said, low and controlled, “and I swear to God — ”

His voice didn’t rise.

It didn’t have to.

The air around him was thunder.

The boyfriend scoffed, tried to say something, but the weight of Nut’s presence held him in place. Tui, behind Nut now, had one hand pressed to his face, the other gripping the edge of the counter for balance.

“Get out,” Nut said, not even looking back. “You’ve done enough.”

This time, the man left — maybe because he was scared, or maybe because he knew there was nothing left to say.

The door slammed.

Silence again.

Nut didn’t move at first. Then he turned around slowly, crouching to meet Tui’s eyes.

“Tui…”

“I’m okay,” Tui whispered, but his voice cracked.

“No,” Nut said softly. “You’re not. But you will be.”

And for the first time, Tui didn’t flinch when someone reached for him.

He let Nut pull him close.

He let himself breathe.

He let himself begin to believe that maybe, this time, he wouldn’t have to survive alone.