The Weight of Hands

During a live performance, Hong’s hand brushes Nut’s waist. It’s accidental. It’s nothing. It’s everything.

Nut forgets a step for half a second. The crowd doesn’t notice, but Nut does. His body remembers the contact long after the song ends, like a phantom ache.

Backstage, Hong avoids him again. That hurts more than the touch ever could. Nut wonders when wanting someone became a quiet kind of pain — one you learn to live with so well that it becomes part of you.