Scene — The next day, late afternoon. Group apartment.

The front door opened quietly.

Nut stepped in first, holding the door for Tui, who followed with hesitant steps. He wore a hoodie with the sleeves pulled over his hands, and his eyes did not rise from the floor.

Inside, the apartment was unusually quiet.

Lego was the first to spot them from the kitchen. He dropped the dish towel in his hands. "Nut? Tui?"

William looked up from the sofa, phone in hand. "Hey..." His voice trailed off. He stood slowly. "Are you okay?"

Tui gave a small nod, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Where were you?" Lego asked, trying to keep his voice gentle, but worry edged it anyway. "You missed two rehearsals. Everyone's been freaking out."

"I know," Nut said. "Sorry. We had to deal with something."

Lego looked like he wanted to ask more, but William touched his arm, a silent reminder to hold back.

Across the room, Hong stood near the hallway, half-hidden in the doorway. He hadn't said a word since they walked in. His gaze flicked to Nut — uncertain, guilty — then to Tui.

Tui didn't look back. He just quietly walked to the couch and sat, hands tucked into his sleeves, small and quiet like he wanted to disappear into the cushions.

Nut lingered by the door, removing his shoes slowly.

Hong stepped forward, hesitation in every movement. "Tui..."

Tui glanced up at the sound of his name. His eyes were red-rimmed, but dry now.

"I'm glad you're back," Hong said. It was all he could say.

Tui gave a faint smile. "Me too."

Before anyone could speak again, the front door opened once more.

Diamond walked in, a bag slung over one shoulder. "Guys — what happened? I've been getting calls from the manager all day." He stopped when he saw Tui on the couch, Nut beside him. "Wait. What...?"

Est followed a second later, brushing hair from his eyes, scanning the room. "Okay, clearly something's up."

William raised a hand. "We'll explain. Just... maybe later."

Diamond, reading the tension instantly, nodded and came to sit beside Tui. He didn't ask anything. Just leaned his shoulder gently against him, quiet solidarity.

Est folded his arms and leaned against the wall, eyes flicking from Nut to Hong, sensing something deeper.

The room fell into a thoughtful stillness.

No one pushed for answers.

They didn't need them yet.

For now, Tui was home. Nut was beside him.

And the rest?

The rest could wait.

Scene — 11:47 p.m. The kitchen, group apartment.

The house had long since fallen into a hush. William and Est were curled together on the couch. Tui’s bedroom door was closed — quiet, finally resting.

And Hong, barefoot and sleepless, drifted into the kitchen for water. His tank top hung loose off one shoulder, his gray hair still damp from a late shower. He moved like a shadow, silent and slow, moonlight washing over his skin through the small window above the sink.

He opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle, turned —

— and stopped.

Nut stood in the doorway.

Hong’s breath caught. He hadn’t heard him come in.

Nut didn’t say anything. He looked calm, tired. His eyes were unreadable, but the silence between them was thick with things unsaid.

For the entire day, Nut had kept his distance. He hadn’t looked at Hong during rehearsal. Hadn’t answered the quiet text Hong sent that afternoon: “Can we talk?”

Hong had spent the hours since then in a haze of guilt and restlessness, wandering from room to room, waiting for a sign that Nut would let him back in.

This wasn’t how he wanted it to happen — but now, here they were.

“…Hey,” Hong said quietly, his voice slightly rough.

Nut looked at him, finally — really looked. The tiredness in his shoulders softened. “Can’t sleep?”

Hong shook his head.

Nut hesitated, then walked past him to the counter. He didn’t touch anything. Just leaned there, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“You want to go outside?” Nut asked.

Hong blinked. “Yeah.”

Scene — Midnight. The back porch.

They stepped outside into the stillness of the night. The porch light glowed dimly above them, casting soft halos on their skin. The air was warm, heavy with the scent of damp leaves and jasmine. Cicadas hummed low in the distance.

Hong sat on the edge of the wooden steps, bottle of water in hand. Nut stood for a moment, looking at him — his profile sharp in the low light, collarbones catching moonlight like sculpture — then sat beside him, their knees barely touching.

It was quiet for a long time.

Nut spoke first. “You disappeared. The night Tui needed all of us.”

“I know,” Hong said, instantly. “I messed up.”

Nut’s jaw tensed. “You didn’t just mess up, Hong. You ran.”

“I didn’t know what to do. I freaked out. I felt like I was in the way.”

“You’re never in the way,” Nut said. The words came fast, then hung there, heavy. “You’re just… reckless sometimes. And I don’t know how to protect everything at once.”

Hong turned to him slowly. “You shouldn’t have to. That’s the thing, Nut. I want to help. I just… sometimes I don’t know how.”

Nut didn’t answer immediately. He looked out over the backyard, toward the streetlights bleeding gold through the trees.

“You know,” he said softly, “when I first met you, I thought, This one’s going to ruin me.”

Hong smiled faintly. “You said that out loud, actually.”

“I did?”

“First week of training camp. You were half-asleep and grumpy, and I was singing too loud in the shower.”

Nut laughed under his breath — just a little — and it cracked something open between them.

“You are impossible,” he murmured.

“And you’re impossible to ignore,” Hong replied, voice even softer.

The chemistry in the air shifted. Charged. Slow. Quiet.

They sat in that tension — not yet moving, not yet deciding, just feeling it build like pressure in the space between their hands.

Hong looked at him, the faintest shimmer in his eyes. “You’re still mad at me.”

“I’m still scared,” Nut admitted.

Hong looked down. “Of what?”

“Of losing you,” Nut said simply. “Of caring too much and watching you disappear again.”

Silence.

Then Hong turned his hand palm-up on the step between them — a wordless invitation.

Nut stared at it for a moment, then slowly placed his hand over Hong’s.

Not holding. Just resting there. Warm skin on warm skin.

A breath passed.

“I’m sorry,” Hong said.

“I know,” Nut replied.

Another moment.

Then Nut shifted just slightly closer. Their shoulders brushed.

The cicadas hummed louder, the night breathing around them. They didn’t kiss. They didn’t need to.

Because this — sitting shoulder to shoulder in the quiet dark, hand resting over hand — was the kind of moment that spoke louder than anything.

Scene — 2:16 a.m. Group apartment, front hallway.

The key turned softly in the lock.

Nut and Hong stepped inside, careful not to let the door creak too loud. The apartment was dark and silent — the hush of a place deep in sleep. Only the soft blue glow of the kitchen nightlight spilled out across the floor like water.

Shoes came off in practiced quiet. Jackets slung over the backs of chairs. Neither of them said anything, but the silence between them wasn’t strained. It was... close.

Hong glanced around, then whispered, “Everyone’s out cold.”

Nut gave a small nod, voice low. “I hope so. They’ve all had a long few days.”

Hong didn’t move. He stood there for a beat, looking at Nut.

Nut tilted his head. “You okay?”

“I don’t want to sleep alone tonight,” Hong said quietly.

It wasn’t flirtation. There was no teasing in it. Just truth — raw, vulnerable, simple.

Nut’s expression softened, all the tension in his shoulders melting.

“Come on,” he said, and led the way.