Arthur had never imagined retribution could feel this isolating.
At night, the silence stretched interminably. Outside his apartment, the city buzzed with activity—music, and laughter filled the air—but inside, it was just him, alone with the weight of unspoken words. He convinced himself it was working; Nick was breaking, finally grasping the true essence of heartbreak. But if that was true, why did Arthur still wake up some nights with tears staining his cheeks? Why did he find himself painting as if his hands were trying to claw his heart out?
"Don't look at me like that," he said, a quiet challenge lingering in his tone.
"You didn't sleep again," Pim observed as she poured tea on the rooftop of her family's art studio.
Arthur contemplated the Bangkok skyline, which glowed gold in the sunset. "I should feel better," he finally said. "He's hurting. Isn't that what I wanted?"
"You wanted justice," Pim countered, her voice steady and clear. "But revenge… it's a complicated game. You either let it go, or it consumes you too."
Arthur didn't meet her gaze. "It already has."
Meanwhile, Nick had never experienced silence like this. Not even in that year of separation, not even when he left Arthur behind in that hospital room, had he felt this depth of emptiness. He had lost him again, but this time, Arthur wasn't crying or pleading or searching for him. This time, Arthur was thriving—without him. That hurt far more than their breakup. Each photo of Arthur with Ake felt like a punch to the gut. Nick looked at them like they were remnants of his own memories—Arthur laughing, Arthur leaning on someone else's shoulder, Arthur kissing someone else's cheek. It was unbearable.
He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He started avoiding people. Mia spotted him at a café one evening, still wearing the same clothes from two days prior.
"You need to fight for him," she said plainly. "Or let him go."
Nick looked up slowly, his eyes bloodshot. "I already lost, Mia."
Mia crouched beside him, her voice soft yet resolute. "Then make him fall in love with you again; don't just fade away like this. You were the one who left. Now you have to be the one to stay and make it right." And don't forget Nick, Arthur never stopped loving you.
Ake was decent—too good, really. He didn't push. He was nice, gentle, handsome—the type anyone would be glad to love. But perhaps that was the problem—because Arthur didn't love him in the same way.
"You don't have to pretend with me," Ake said quietly, his hands in his pockets. "I know I'm not him."
Arthur turned away, his throat tight. "I never meant to use you."
"You didn't," Ake replied. "But I wish I could be the reason you smile for real." He leaned in, their lips hovering dangerously close. But Arthur didn't move. He couldn't bring himself to cross that line.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. I can't kiss you, Ake.
Ake stepped back, a sad smile playing on his lips. "He still owns your heart, huh?"
Arthur nodded solemnly. "Very much so. I never stopped loving him—even after everything."
Then it happened a week later. Nick appeared at Arthur's condo unannounced, not loud but there, waiting in the corridor with tired eyes and a single packet in his palm. Arthur stared at him for a long moment before walking away without a word. The silence between them was unbearable.
"I'm not here to ask for forgiveness," Nick said, placing the envelope on the table. "Just… open it when you're ready."
Arthur didn't move.
"You know, I used to think we'd grow old together," Nick continued, his voice cracking. "You painting by the window while I brought you coffee, reminding you to take breaks. I had it all figured out." But I messed it up; I know I did.
Arthur remained silent, unyielding.
Nick hesitated at the door before turning back. "Ake's lucky," he said softly. "But if there's even a tiny piece of your heart that still remembers me… or still has love left for me, I'll wait as long as it takes to win it back." And then he left.
Arthur stared at the envelope for hours before finally opening it. Inside, he found not a letter, but a photo of them, taken by Mia years ago before their world fell apart. They lay in the grass outside the dorms, Nick's head in Arthur's lap, both smiling under the warm sunlight. On the back, five words were written in Nick's handwriting: This is still my truth.
Arthur clenched the photo until his knuckles turned white. He didn't cry, but for the first time in weeks, he felt something—raw and unsettling.
That night, Arthur dreamed of Nick—not the broken version. Instead, he was the boy Arthur had fallen in love with—the one who whispered "forever" under the stars. He woke up gasping, and alone.Arthur had never imagined retribution could feel this isolating.
At night, the silence stretched interminably. Outside his apartment, the city buzzed with activity—music and laughter filled the air—but inside, it was just him, alone with the weight of unspoken words. He convinced himself it was working; Nick was breaking, finally grasping the true essence of heartbreak. But if that was true, why did Arthur still wake up some nights with tears staining his cheeks? Why did he find himself painting as if his hands were trying to claw his heart out?
"Don't look at me like that," he said, a quiet challenge lingering in his tone.
"You didn't sleep again," Pim observed as she poured tea on the rooftop of her family's art studio.
Arthur contemplated the Bangkok skyline, which glowed gold in the sunset. "I should feel better," he finally said. "He's hurting. Isn't that what I wanted?"
"You wanted justice," Pim countered, her voice steady and clear. "But revenge… it's a complicated game. You either let it go, or it consumes you too."
Arthur didn't meet her gaze. "It already has."
Meanwhile, Nick had never experienced silence like this. Not even in that year of separation, not even when he left Arthur behind in that hospital room, had he felt this depth of emptiness. He had lost him again, but this time, Arthur wasn't crying or pleading or searching for him. This time, Arthur was thriving—without him. That hurt far more than their breakup. Each photo of Arthur with Ake felt like a punch to the gut. Nick looked at them like they were remnants of his own memories—Arthur laughing, Arthur leaning on someone else's shoulder, Arthur kissing someone else's cheek. It was unbearable.
He couldn't sleep. He couldn't eat. He started avoiding people. Mia spotted him at a café one evening, still wearing the same clothes from two days prior.
"You need to fight for him," she said plainly. "Or let him go."
Nick looked up slowly, his eyes bloodshot. "I already lost, Mia."
Mia crouched beside him, her voice soft yet resolute. "Then make him fall in love with you again; don't just fade away like this. You were the one who left. Now you have to be the one to stay and make it right." And don't forget, Nick, Arthur never stopped loving you.
Ake was decent—too good, really. He didn't push. He was nice, gentle, handsome—the type anyone would be glad to love. But perhaps that was the problem—because Arthur didn't love him in the same way.
"You don't have to pretend with me," Ake said quietly, his hands in his pockets. "I know I'm not him."
Arthur turned away, his throat tight. "I never meant to use you."
"You didn't," Ake replied. "But I wish I could be the reason you smile for real." He leaned in, their lips hovering dangerously close. But Arthur didn't move. He couldn't bring himself to cross that line.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. I can't kiss you, Ake.
Ake stepped back, a sad smile playing on his lips. "He still owns your heart, huh?"
Arthur nodded solemnly. "Very much so. I never stopped loving him—even after everything."
Then it happened a week later. Nick appeared at Arthur's condo unannounced, not loud but there, waiting in the corridor with tired eyes and a single packet in his palm. Arthur stared at him for a long moment before walking away without a word. The silence between them was unbearable.
"I'm not here to ask for forgiveness," Nick said, placing the envelope on the table. "Just… open it when you're ready."
Arthur didn't move.
"You know, I used to think we'd grow old together," Nick continued, his voice cracking. "You painting by the window while I brought you coffee, reminding you to take breaks. I had it all figured out." But I messed it up; I know I did.
Arthur remained silent, unyielding.
Nick hesitated at the door before turning back. "Ake's lucky," he said softly. "But if there's even a tiny piece of your heart that still remembers me… or still has love left for me, I'll wait as long as it takes to win it back." And then he left.
Arthur stared at the envelope for hours before finally opening it. Inside, he found not a letter, but a photo of them, taken by Mia years ago before their world fell apart. They lay in the grass outside the dorms, Nick's head in Arthur's lap, both smiling under the warm sunlight. On the back, five words were written in Nick's handwriting: This is still my truth.
Arthur clenched the photo until his knuckles turned white. He didn't cry, but for the first time in weeks, he felt something—raw and unsettling.
That night, Arthur dreamed of Nick—not the broken version. Instead, he was the boy Arthur had fallen in love with—the one who whispered "forever" under the stars. He woke up gasping, and alone.