A faint scent of lavender lingered in the air, the room calm but filled with an unspoken tension. The window was cracked open just enough for a breeze to drift through, rustling the curtains softly, as if the room itself was holding its breath. A small clock ticked quietly on the nightstand, marking the silence between them.

Boun sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the floor. His hands were clenched tightly on his knees, knuckles white, as if holding onto something—anything—to stop the storm inside him from breaking through. Prem sat beside him, close but not intrusive, his presence a quiet anchor. He didn't speak, respecting the space Boun needed. If his friend wasn't ready to share, he wouldn't press. He would wait.

The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy. Then, Boun exhaled—a shaky, uneven breath, as though releasing something he had been holding too tightly. He glanced at Prem for a moment, then quickly looked away, his eyes flickering with a mix of vulnerability and shame. He wasn't ready to meet Prem's gaze. Not yet.

"My... my mom," Boun began, his voice barely above a whisper, as though each word was too heavy to speak. "She doesn't let up. She thinks it's all my fault. The divorce. She thinks I ruined things with my ex-wife."

Prem didn't respond right away. He turned slightly toward Boun, his expression open and steady—inviting him to continue if he was ready. Prem's knee brushed against Boun's as he subtly shifted closer, his body language offering silent support.

Boun's hands trembled slightly, fingers curling into fists before relaxing again. "She wants answers I don't have," he continued, his voice raw, as though admitting something painful for the first time. "Wants me to fix things that aren't fixable." The words came out in a rush, as though once they started, he couldn't hold them back. His breath hitched, as if speaking the truth had opened a wound he wasn't ready to face. "And she thinks I didn't try hard enough. That I just gave up... on us."

Prem's heart ached as he listened. He didn't speak, though. He didn't need to. Instead, he moved just a little closer, the small shift of his body offering an unspoken assurance. His hand, warm and steady, rested gently on Boun's knee. It wasn't much—just a touch—but it was enough to let Boun know that, even in this painful moment, he wasn't alone.

Prem's heart twisted at the thought of Boun's past—his ex-wife, their life together, the love they once shared. For a fleeting moment, a surge of jealousy hit him, an ache deep in his chest. Was he too late to ever be the one Boun loved? But he pushed those thoughts away, focusing instead on the man beside him, still struggling to find peace with his past.

"Boun, I don't know what happened between you two. But I believe a divorce is never just one person's fault. Whatever your mother thinks you did wrong, you're not solely responsible for what happened." Boun's eyes stayed fixed on the floor, though his jaw tightened, as if holding back more than just words. Prem kept his expression calm, giving Boun the space he needed to process. "Are you regretting the divorce?" Prem asked, his voice tight. His own heart was hammering in his chest. The thought of Boun still being in love with his ex-wife was unbearable. "Do you still love her?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, afraid of the answer.

Boun shook his head. "The divorce... It felt right," he said, his voice steady now. "I... I didn't want to keep fighting when there was nothing left to fight for."

Prem sat quietly, his heart pounding as he watched Boun. The room felt heavy, filled with unspoken words. Prem's mind raced, trying to process everything. Boun finally lifted his gaze to meet Prem's, but the look in his eyes was distant. "I thought I'd be okay," he said, his voice low and strained. "I thought once it was over, I could just... move on. But it's not that easy."

"Are you... are you sure you made the right choice?" Prem asked, his voice barely above a whisper. His heart raced. What if it wasn't the right choice? What if Boun regretted it? "I don't know," Boun muttered, his words heavy. "I think I was just so tired. Tired of fighting. Tired of trying to fix something that was already broken."

Prem nodded, though the ache in his chest wouldn't go away. He wanted to say more, to ask Boun if he was still in love with his ex-wife, but he was too afraid of the answer.

"I... I just need some time," Boun murmured, looking away again as if the words were hard to say out loud. "I need to figure things out."

"I'm here," Prem said quietly, offering a reassuring presence. "If you need someone to talk to... or anything."

Boun nodded, his expression softening, and for a moment, Prem allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, Boun felt the same.

Boun sat for a few moments, his hands resting on his knees, his mind still processing everything he had just shared. He finally looked at Prem, his expression quiet, as if searching for something—perhaps reassurance, or perhaps an escape from the weight of his own thoughts.

"I'm going to take a shower," Boun said softly. Prem nodded understandingly, a small, encouraging smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Of course, take your time," he replied, his tone calm and unhurried. The door clicked shut behind him, and Prem was left alone in the quiet room, the hum of the shower the only sound breaking the stillness. He took a deep breath and let himself flop back onto the bed. His heart was racing inside his chest.

Meanwhile, Boun stood under the shower, his forehead resting against the cool glass, his breath fogging up the surface as he closed his eyes. The conversation with his mother still echoed in his mind.

Prem lay back on the bed, the weight of the conversation still pressing down on him. He closed his eyes, trying to steady his racing heart, but his thoughts kept returning to Boun. The way he had spoken about the divorce, the pain behind his words—it was clear that Boun was struggling more than he let on. Prem couldn't shake the feeling that he wanted to be there for him, that he wanted to help, but he didn't know how. The last thing he wanted was to push Boun too far, too fast.

He heard the shower running, the sound a steady reminder of Boun's need for space. Prem was used to the quiet moments, the ones where everything felt suspended in time, but tonight, the silence felt different. He wondered if Boun would be okay, if he would ever be able to heal from what had happened with his ex-wife, with his mother, with everything that weighed on him.

After a while, the sound of the water stopped. Prem sat up, glancing at the closed bathroom door. He didn't want to intrude, but he couldn't stay idle, not when he knew Boun needed someone. Taking a deep breath, he stood up and walked quietly to the door, pausing for a moment before knocking softly.

The bathroom door creaked open, and Boun stepped out, his body still damp from the shower. He wore nothing but a towel wrapped low around his waist, his hair tousled and glistening with water. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stared at each other, the space between them suddenly thick with something more than just the lingering silence. Prem's breath caught in his throat as his heart began to pound faster, almost painfully so. Boun's presence, his bare skin still glistening with droplets of water, was overwhelming. The way the towel clung to his waist, the quiet strength in his posture, and the vulnerability in his eyes—it made Prem's chest tighten, his pulse quicken. He could feel the heat rise to his face, and for a moment, it felt as though the world outside the room had ceased to exist. There was only Boun, standing in front of him, and the undeniable pull between them.

Prem's words stuck in his throat, but his gaze, despite his best efforts, kept drifting downward, drawn to the curve of Boun's shoulders, the hint of his chest beneath the damp towel.

Prem opened his mouth, but no words came out at first. He swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I—I'm sorry. I didn't.." He wanted to look away, wanted to give Boun the space he needed, but something—something about this moment made it impossible to look anywhere else. Boun's gaze softened, his lips parting slightly, though he didn't speak. Instead, he took a step closer, his bare feet making no sound on the floor. There was something in his eyes now—something that matched Prem's own confusion and longing, a shared understanding that neither could ignore. Prem's heart skipped a beat. "Yeah? What is it?", Boun softly asked. His voice almost a whisper.

For a moment, Prem struggled to find his voice. His mouth felt dry, and his thoughts scattered like leaves in a storm, swirling too fast for him to grasp. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat loud in his ears, and the weight of Boun's gaze on him made it feel as if the entire world had quieted down, leaving only this moment between them.

Boun didn't move. His eyes were locked on Prem's, not in a confrontational way, but as if waiting for something—something Prem wasn't sure he could offer. His expression was unreadable, a mix of uncertainty and something deeper, something that made Prem's pulse quicken.

The space between them was charged. It felt like an invisible force, pressing down on both of them. Prem felt it like a weight on his chest, a pressure that urged him to speak, to move, but also one that made him hesitate, unsure of what would happen next. His thoughts collided—his desire to say something comforting, to reach out to Boun, but also a deep fear of saying the wrong thing, of shattering the fragile thread of connection they had just formed.

Boun's eyes didn't waver from Prem's, his gaze intense, searching, and something in those dark eyes made Prem feel exposed as if Boun could see all the hidden parts of him—the fears, the longing, the hesitations he'd buried too deep to acknowledge. It was as if Boun were silently daring him to make a move, to take that first step forward.

Prem could feel the air around them crackle with the unspoken tension, the raw emotions they both shared but had yet to fully acknowledge. He wondered if Boun could feel it too—the way the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of them in that small, dimly lit room. It was as if everything else had faded away, and all that remained was the weight of their silence.

He wanted to reach out, to bridge the distance between them, but his body seemed frozen, as though some invisible force was holding him back. He could hear his own breath now, shallow and uneven, as he struggled to keep his composure. The urge to take a step closer was overwhelming, but at the same time, he was terrified of crossing a line neither of them might be ready to cross.

Boun's chest rose and fell with a slow, steady breath, his expression unreadable, but there was something in his eyes—something softening, something that made Prem feel both afraid and hopeful at the same time.

Then, Boun spoke, his voice so quiet that Prem almost missed it. "Is everything ok?"

Prem blinked, his heart thudding in his chest, the softness of Boun's voice pulling him back into the present. He swallowed hard, trying to steady his racing thoughts. "Y..yes. I..I was just thinking," Prem finished, his voice barely above a whisper, the words hanging in the air between them like fragile threads. He shifted his weight, suddenly feeling uncomfortable under Boun's gaze. There was something about the way Boun was looking at him—something that felt both vulnerable and expectant—that made it difficult to breathe.

"Are you sure?" Boun asked softly, his voice warm but still carrying that underlying concern. "You don't seem like you're okay."