Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was raining again.

Not the cold, miserable kind that soaks through your clothes and chills you to the bone—but the soft, drizzly sort that made the whole world feel quieter, gentler. Kong sat on the floor by the window, knees tucked up to his chest, watching the raindrops race down the glass.

Behind him, Thomas was humming a tune—off-key, as always—as he padded around the kitchen barefoot, trying to make breakfast with zero culinary skill and way too much confidence.

“I swear, if you burn the eggs again—” Kong called over his shoulder.

“They’re not burnt,” Thomas shot back. “They’re… slightly toasted. With personality.”

Kong snorted. “That’s not a personality, that’s a cry for help.”

Thomas peeked around the kitchen door, spatula in hand and an exaggerated pout on his face. “You wound me.”

“You wound me every time you step near a stove.”

But even as he teased, Kong’s chest ached in the best kind of way. He never used to laugh like this. Never used to feel this light, this full. Not until Thomas came crashing into his life like a storm with a crooked smile and hands that held him like he mattered.

Thomas crossed the room and sat beside him, offering a bite of something that definitely looked burnt.

Kong raised an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

Thomas grinned. “It’s made with love.”

“I think love’s dying.”

Still, he took the bite—and immediately winced. “Yup. Dead. Definitely dead.”

Thomas burst out laughing, head falling back, and in that moment Kong forgot everything else. All the doubts, the fears, the things he didn’t say. None of it mattered when Thomas smiled like that.

And maybe that’s what scared him the most.

Because he wasn’t sure what he’d do if that smile ever stopped being his.


Later that night, they lay tangled on the couch, a half-finished movie playing quietly in the background. Thomas's head rested on Kong’s chest, one arm draped over his waist like he couldn’t stand to be apart for even a second.

Kong absentmindedly played with Thomas’s hair, letting the soft strands slide through his fingers.

“You awake?” Thomas mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

“Mhm,” Kong hummed.

“You ever think about the future?”

Kong blinked at the ceiling. “Sometimes.”

“What do you see?” Thomas asked, eyes still closed.

Kong was quiet for a moment, then said softly, “I see you. That’s enough.”

Thomas smiled against his chest. “Cheesy.”

“You asked.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t expect you to be romantic about it.”

Kong shrugged. “Guess you bring it out of me.”

Thomas lifted his head just enough to look at him. “I hope we stay like this.”

Kong looked at him. Really looked. At the soft curve of his smile, the sleep still clinging to his eyes, the way his fingers tightened around Kong’s shirt like he was scared to let go.

“Me too,” Kong whispered.


---

A few days later, Kong found a polaroid tucked in the back of his notebook. He didn’t remember taking it—Thomas must’ve snuck it in.

In the photo, Kong was mid-laugh, eyes scrunched up, hand half-raised like he was trying to block the camera. At the bottom, in Thomas’s messy handwriting:

“My favorite view.”

Kong didn’t say anything, but he kept that photo in his wallet for months.


Kong never remembered exactly when it started—when Thomas’s laughter became the sound that steadied him, or when his smile became something worth chasing. It wasn’t dramatic. No sudden spark or fireworks. It just happened, in the small moments that crept up like a tide.

Like that lazy Wednesday evening, when they were eating fried rice on the floor, backs against the couch and legs tangled under the coffee table. Thomas was quiet, unusually so, just watching Kong talk about something mundane—childhood, maybe. Kong had always talked with his hands, face animated, voice rising when he got excited. And Thomas, instead of laughing, just looked at him like he hung the stars.

Kong paused mid-story. “What?”

“You’re just…” Thomas blinked, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “I love you.”

Kong nearly choked on his food. The words landed like a dropped glass, sudden and irreversible. Thomas’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t meant to let it slip—not now, not like this. “Shit—I didn’t mean to just—”

Kong leaned forward and kissed him, food forgotten . It wasn’t a dramatic kiss. Just a simple press of lips, a quiet promise exchanged in silence.

“I love you too,” he whispered when they pulled apart. And Thomas looked like someone had handed him the whole world.

That was how they were—soft edges and shared silences, late-night phone calls just to hear each other breathe. They had this rooftop above their building, nothing special. A rusted stairwell, a broken bench, and a view of flickering city lights. But it was theirs.

They’d sit there when everything else felt too loud. Kong liked the quiet, the way the night made Thomas’s voice softer, more honest.

“If we ever lose this,” Kong said once, barely more than a whisper, “just remember this place. Remember how it felt.”

Thomas bumped their shoulders together, fingers brushing his. “We’re not going to lose it.”

“Promise?”

Thomas kissed the back of his hand. “Promise.”

---------

Kong remembered that night like it was carved into his bones.

He remembered the time he got sick and Thomas stayed the whole night, even though Kong swore he was fine. He wasn’t. Feverish, shivering, too tired to lift his head. Thomas never left his side. He made soup that tasted like cardboard and hovered with a damp cloth, checking his forehead every hour.

“You’re still here?” Kong had mumbled through chapped lips.

“Where else would I be?” Thomas whispered, brushing sweaty hair off his brow.

It was moments like that—quiet, steady, constant—that built Kong’s love. It wasn’t just the good times. It was how Thomas showed up. Again and again.

And maybe that’s what made it hurt so much more when it all came crashing down.


Kong knew Thomas like he knew the rhythm of his own breath.

Which was why he noticed it, even if it was small.

The first time it happened, they were at their usual ramen place, the one tucked behind the laundromat. Thomas always ordered the same thing—tonkotsu with extra egg—but that night, he barely touched it. He kept glancing at his phone, fingers drumming against the table.

“Something wrong?” Kong asked, reaching to steal his egg.

Thomas startled, almost knocking over his glass. “What? No. Sorry. Just work.”

“Work?” Kong raised a brow. “You’re a bartender, not a stockbroker.”

Thomas laughed, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Boss wants me to take on more shifts. That’s all.”

Kong didn’t push. He should’ve. But he didn’t.

Instead, he reached across the table and squeezed Thomas’s hand. “You’ve been working too much.”

“I’m trying to save up,” Thomas said quickly. “For us. For that trip to Japan you keep talking about.”

That shut Kong up. He smiled, eyes softening. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did,” Thomas replied, and for a second, he looked like his Thomas again—the one who whispered silly things into his ear at 2 a.m., the one who kissed him behind the bar during closing shift just because he could.

But that second passed too quickly.

----
The next few weeks, Kong noticed more little things.

Thomas’s phone, always face-down. The missed calls. The way he suddenly started showering right when he got home, like he needed to wash something off.

He told himself he was imagining it.

He told himself love meant trust.

But then there were the nights Thomas came home smelling like someone else’s perfume.

And one night, when Kong kissed him, Thomas flinched.

It was barely noticeable. A fraction of hesitation. But it tore through Kong like glass.

“Are you okay?” he whispered, pulling back.

Thomas blinked, as if shaken from a daze. “Yeah. Sorry. Just tired.”

Tired.

That word became his shield, his excuse.

And Kong, being in love, let it slide.

Because they still had soft mornings. Thomas still kissed him on the forehead before leaving for work. He still pulled him close at night, still whispered I love you when he thought Kong was asleep.

But the weight of something unsaid pressed down heavier with each passing day.

Then came the night Kong found a bracelet on the floor—delicate, gold, and definitely not his.

He held it in his hand, staring at it like it might give him an answer.

Thomas had been in the shower. Kong waited, silent, fingers tightening around the jewelry.

When Thomas came out, toweling his hair, Kong didn’t even look up. “Whose is this?”

The room went still.

Thomas’s eyes flicked to the bracelet, then to Kong. “A customer’s. Someone must’ve dropped it. I was gonna return it.”

“You brought it home?”

“Yeah. Didn’t want it to get lost.”

Kong nodded, slowly placing it on the table. “Of course.”

Thomas came over, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You okay?”

Kong leaned into the touch, even though something inside him twisted. “Yeah. Just tired.”

A lie, for a lie.

The tension had become a third presence in their apartment. A ghost between the sheets. And yet, Kong kept clinging to the memories. The late-night ramen. The rooftop. The lazy Sundays where they stayed in bed until noon.

He couldn’t let go of them. Not yet.

But deep down, he felt it.

The storm was coming.

>>>>>>>>>>

It was a night like any other, soft and quiet, the kind of night that made you believe nothing could ever go wrong. The moonlight filtered through the curtains, casting a pale glow over the room, and the air smelled faintly of fresh rain.

Kong sat on the floor of the kitchen, his legs crossed, stirring a pot of stew. He hummed under his breath, his movements relaxed, easy. Thomas leaned against the doorway, watching him with a smile that softened his sharp edges, the kind of smile Kong had grown to love.

“N'Kong~,” Thomas said, his voice quiet but full of affection. “What are you making?”

“Stew,” Kong replied, not looking up. “It’s supposed to be for tomorrow, but I’m starving.”

“Is it going to be as good as last time?”

Kong laughed, glancing over his shoulder. “Probably not. But I’ll try my best.”

Thomas walked over, his bare feet silent against the floor. He wrapped his arms around Kong’s waist from behind, resting his chin on Kong’s shoulder. The warmth of his body felt like home, a familiar weight that Kong had grown to crave.

“I can’t wait to see what you come up with,” Thomas murmured, his lips brushing Kong’s skin. “You’re a magician in the kitchen.”

Kong smiled, leaning back into Thomas’s embrace. He closed his eyes for a moment, just savoring the feeling of being held, of being loved. This was the kind of love that felt timeless, like something that could last forever.

“Do you remember the first time we made stew together?” Kong asked, his voice light, teasing.

Thomas chuckled softly. “Yeah. You were convinced you could make it with instant noodles.”

Kong laughed, a sound that was free and easy. “I still don’t understand why you thought it was a good idea to add half the kitchen’s spices. You nearly set off the fire alarm.”

“Hey,” Thomas protested, grinning. “It was creative.”

“And awful.”

“But it was ours,” Thomas said, pressing a kiss to Kong’s neck. “I don’t care if it tasted like ash. We made it together.”

Kong’s heart squeezed in his chest at the sincerity in Thomas’s voice. In that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the world. It felt like nothing could ever tear them apart.

He wanted to hold onto that moment forever.

But that was before he saw the video.


---

A few days later, Kong was alone in their apartment, scrolling through his phone absently. He had just finished a workout and was waiting for Thomas to come back from a quick errand. He checked his messages, scrolled through some social media posts, his mind drifting.

That’s when he saw it—a message from an unknown number. There was a link, no caption, nothing to explain why the message was sent or who it was from. Just a link. No context, no warning.

Kong’s curiosity got the best of him. He clicked it, thinking it was just some random video someone thought he’d enjoy. But the moment it loaded, his blood ran cold.

It was a video of Thomas.

But this wasn’t just a simple clip. This was a moment Kong wasn’t prepared for.

Thomas was pressed against a wall. His body tangled with someone else’s—a girl’s. Her hands were tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, their lips locked in a passionate kiss that made Kong’s chest tighten. Thomas’s hands were on her waist, gripping her like he had gripped Kong so many times. The way he moved, the way his body responded to her touch—it was the same way he had touched Kong.

It hit Kong like a punch to the gut. His hand shook, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe. His mind spun in circles. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.

He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. His eyes were glued to the screen as Thomas kissed her deeper, their bodies pressed so close, it looked like they might melt into one another.

Kong’s stomach turned. His vision blurred, not just with the sting of the tears that threatened to fall, but with something far deeper. Betrayal. He had trusted Thomas. He had trusted him with everything.

The video ended. The silence was deafening.

Kong sat there, motionless. His phone slipped from his hands, hitting the table with a dull, lifeless thud. The room around him felt too small, too suffocating. He couldn’t escape it. His mind wouldn’t stop replaying the image of Thomas, his lips on someone else, his hands on someone else.

He had never felt so small, so utterly betrayed.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, the weight of the video pressing down on him. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he barely even noticed when his phone slid off the table to the floor. Everything felt distant, muffled, like he was underwater. His body was numb, yet his heart was burning.

The ache inside him wasn’t just emotional; it was physical. A deep, unrelenting pain that coursed through him, making him feel like he might crack apart at any moment.

This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. This wasn’t the love they had built together. The love he had trusted.

No. No.

Kong got up, his legs shaky beneath him. He didn’t know where he was going, didn’t know what to do. But the overwhelming need to escape—to get away from the video, from the images it had burned into his mind—was unbearable.


---

In the hours that followed, Kong didn’t know what to do with himself. The apartment felt suffocating, like the walls were closing in. He wanted to yell. He wanted to break something. But mostly, he wanted to forget what he’d just seen.

He grabbed his jacket, left the apartment without a word. He didn’t know where he was going, just that he couldn’t stay there anymore.

The world outside felt like a blur. The rain began to fall in thick, heavy sheets, soaking his jacket as he walked aimlessly, his thoughts racing. The image of Thomas with her kept flashing in his mind. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw it. Every time he blinked, he could still feel the sting of the betrayal.

Kong didn’t know how long he’d been walking.

The world around him blurred into a smudge of lights and rain, his vision distorted by tears he hadn’t allowed to fall. The cold air cut through his jacket, but it did nothing to numb the fire in his chest. He couldn’t escape it. He couldn’t escape the image of Thomas, his lips on her—that touch, that intimacy—everything that was once his was now someone else’s.

He clutched his jacket tighter around himself, hoping the physical pain would somehow match the ache that twisted inside him. His fingers dug into the fabric, the pressure doing nothing to slow the storm in his mind.

How could he do this to me?

The question repeated itself like a mantra in Kong’s mind, but there was no answer. Every answer he came up with made him feel even worse, because none of it made sense.

Thomas had been his world. The center of everything. How could it have all been a lie? How could everything they shared—those whispered promises, those stolen moments of happiness—be nothing more than a fleeting illusion? A fantasy built on nothing more than his own trust?

The sting of the video was unbearable. It wasn’t just the kiss—it was the way Thomas had held her, the way his body had responded to hers. The way he had kissed her like he had kissed Kong, but in a way that was all wrong. It was everything Kong thought he meant to Thomas, reduced to a single moment of selfish pleasure.

Kong…

Kong stopped walking, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He didn’t know where he was, didn’t know what he was doing. He just needed to get away from the apartment. From Thomas. From the video that kept replaying in his head.

He leaned against a lamppost, burying his face in his hands as a sob tore from his throat. His knees gave out, and he sank to the ground, his body shaking with the weight of it all.

For the first time in what felt like forever, Kong allowed himself to feel everything—the hurt, the anger, the heartbreak—and it felt like it was going to consume him.


---

The hours bled into the night, and Kong eventually found his way back to the apartment, exhausted and numb. He could hear Thomas’s voice in the hallway, his footsteps growing closer.

Kong’s heart clenched. He didn’t want to face him—not now, not after everything. But he knew he couldn’t hide forever.

When Thomas saw him standing in the doorway, his face was a mask of concern, worry clouding his eyes. “N'Kong, where did you go?” His voice trembled, like he knew something was wrong but couldn’t understand why.

Kong didn’t answer. He couldn’t answer.

Thomas took a step closer, his hands outstretched. “I was worried. Where have you been? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”

“Stop.” Kong’s voice cracked, but he forced himself to look up at Thomas, his gaze cold and distant.

Thomas’s brows furrowed in confusion. “N'Kong~”

Kong raised his hand, cutting him off. The pain in his chest was sharp, but it wasn’t enough to stop the words from spilling out. “Why?” The question fell from his lips, quiet but heavy. “W-why did you do it, Phi? Why her? Why not me?”

Thomas recoiled, his eyes wide with panic. “What are you talking about?”

Kong’s pulse quickened, and he felt a knot form in his stomach. His voice grew louder, desperate, angry. “The video. I saw it. I saw you—with her.” The words felt like daggers, and even as they left his mouth, he could feel them cutting him. “Y-You kissed her. You let her touch you. How could you—how could you do that?”

The room fell silent. Thomas froze, his face draining of color. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words came. He stood there, his body stiff, his eyes filled with guilt and regret.

“I…” Thomas’s voice trembled. “I didn’t—Kong, I didn’t—”

Kong shook his head, stepping back, his whole body trembling. “Don’t lie to me. I saw it. I saw everything. Don’t pretend it wasn’t real.” His chest tightened with the force of his emotions, and he could feel the tears threatening to spill. “Y-you let someone else touch you like that. Like--like I was nothing.”

Thomas reached out, his hand shaking. “Kong… please. I swear I didn’t mean for this to happen. I was drunk. I-I didn’t know what I was doing. I—”

“No,” Kong interrupted, his voice hardening. “Don’t give me that. I don’t want your excuses,Phi You knew exactly what you were doing.” He paused, his breath hitching. “I-I was supposed to be the only one.”

Thomas looked shattered, like he was about to crumble under the weight of Kong’s words. His eyes were pleading, desperate, but Kong couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Please,” Thomas whispered. “Let me explain.”

“No,” Kong replied, his voice quiet, resigned. “I don’t want to hear it.”

For a moment, they both stood there, the air thick with tension, neither of them speaking, both lost in the storm of their own emotions.

Kong turned to leave, but before he could take a step, Thomas grabbed his arm. His grip was gentle, but it sent a jolt of electricity through Kong’s body.

“N'Kong, please,” Thomas begged. “I’m sorry. I swear I never meant to hurt you.”

Kong yanked his arm free, his chest tight with the need to escape. “Let me go, Phi. Just….let me go.”

Thomas stepped back, his face crumpling as he watched Kong turn away, the distance between them growing with every step.

And as Kong walked away, he didn’t know where he was going, but he knew one thing for sure: nothing would ever be the same again. Not after what he had seen. Not after the truth came to light.

And in the silence that followed, the only thing Kong could hear was the sound of his own broken heart.


Kong walked out of the apartment, the door slamming behind him with a finality that echoed in the emptiness of his chest. His body felt numb, like he was floating, detached from the world around him. His thoughts were in turmoil, crashing over each other like waves. He didn’t even know where he was going—he just needed to be away, far from Thomas, from everything.

The video was still playing in his mind. The image of Thomas with her, his lips on hers, his hands all over her, burned into his memory. It wasn’t just a mistake, not a fleeting slip-up like Thomas had claimed. It was something that had been building for a long time.

That’s when it hit him.

Had I been blind all this time?

Kong’s mind wandered back to the months before the video, to moments that had felt off, but he had brushed them aside, convinced that nothing could come between them.

There were the times when Thomas had come home late, his eyes tired, and the way he would go straight to the bathroom without a word. The way he'd shut himself in there for longer than usual, not saying anything when Kong asked if he was okay.

And then there was the phone—Thomas’s phone. Always placed face down on the table or beside him when they were together. Kong never questioned it, assuming it was just a habit. But now, with the events unfolding in front of him, those little things took on new meaning. Why had Thomas always been so protective of his phone? Why had he seemed so tired, so distant, even when Kong tried to reach out?

He thought back to the nights when Thomas would fall asleep on the couch after a long day at work, his body slumped and his face drawn. Kong would always try to get closer, to pull him into his arms, but Thomas had started to shy away. At first, Kong thought it was exhaustion, but now? Now, Kong realized it was something else. Something that had been growing between them without him noticing.

It was in the little things—the short answers when Kong asked how his day was, the way he pulled away from Kong’s touch when they were alone in bed. Kong had attributed it all to stress, to work, to the demands of life. But he wondered now, with a hollow ache in his chest, if it was more than that. Was Thomas distancing himself emotionally? Had the spark between them already started to die, even before the girl in the video?

Kong’s breath hitched as he thought about the times Thomas had been “too tired” to go out, the evenings they had spent in silence. How Thomas’s eyes would always look somewhere else when Kong tried to talk about their future, about their plans together. The more Kong thought about it, the clearer it became.

He’d been pulling away from me. He just hadn’t been honest about it.

And now, it all made sense. The distance, the indifference, the coldness. The girl in the video wasn’t just some random fling. She was a symptom of something much deeper, something Thomas had hidden from him for months. Kong’s heart ached, realizing that the love he thought was unshakable had been slowly unraveling without him even noticing.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Thomas sat on the edge of his bed, the silence around him suffocating. His fingers drummed nervously against the fabric of his jeans as his eyes traced the same spot on the wall. He could still feel the sting of Kong’s words, the weight of the betrayal hanging between them like a shadow he couldn’t escape.

He hadn’t seen Kong in days. The apartment felt too quiet, too empty without him. It was a strange kind of loneliness, one that crept into his bones and made everything feel too heavy to carry. His thoughts kept returning to that moment—the video, the look on Kong’s face as he watched it.

Thomas had known, deep down, that it would break him. But he had never imagined it would destroy Kong, too. He had never realized just how much his actions had torn apart the very fabric of what they’d shared. The trust they had built, the promises whispered late at night—they all seemed so fragile now.

The worst part wasn’t the kiss. It wasn’t even the girl. It was the way Kong had looked at him, like a stranger, like someone he didn’t recognize anymore. That was the moment Thomas understood. He had ruined everything.

He had made the mistake, and now he was paying the price.

Kong’s face haunted him. His voice echoed in his mind, raw with pain, and Thomas found himself wishing, over and over again, that he could take it all back. He had been drunk, yes. But that wasn’t an excuse. He had let himself slip, and in that moment, he had betrayed the one person who had trusted him completely.

He couldn’t even remember the girl’s face anymore. The image was blurry, a forgotten blur of skin and laughter. What he remembered—what stayed with him—was Kong’s face. The way it had crumpled, the way his eyes had filled with tears. The way he had asked, his voice trembling, “You let someone else touch you like that?”

Those words had torn through Thomas.

He had never wanted that. Never wanted to hurt Kong. But he had. And no matter how many times he said he was sorry, no matter how much he begged, the damage had been done.

Thomas leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his hair. The room was suffocating. The walls felt too close, the air too thick with the tension that still hung between them.

Why had he done it?

He could feel the answer gnawing at the edges of his thoughts. It wasn’t just about the alcohol. It wasn’t just about a mistake. It was about the distance he had started to feel, the emptiness that had slowly crept in when he hadn’t been able to figure out what was wrong with him. He had felt disconnected, like he was slipping through his own fingers. And he had pushed Kong away in the process.

That wasn’t an excuse. But it was the truth.

He couldn’t understand it. Kong had been so good to him—patient, loving, always there. So why had he pulled away? Why had he let the distance grow?

It was like... everything had started to feel suffocating, even though Kong had never once pressured him. Thomas had always prided himself on being independent, on keeping a part of himself to himself, but somewhere along the way, that had turned into isolation. The love Kong gave him was overwhelming in a way that scared him. Thomas couldn’t figure out why he felt like he was drowning, when Kong’s love was the one thing that should have kept him afloat.

But instead, he had shut down. He hadn’t known how to respond to Kong’s love without feeling like he was losing himself. And then, when he felt that overwhelming need to feel something—anything—to remind himself he was still him, he made a choice that he would regret forever. In a moment of weakness, he gave in. It wasn’t about love, or passion, or even desire. It was about filling the emptiness he couldn’t name.

He wasn’t sure what was broken inside him, but he knew that what he had with Kong was real, and now, he had shattered it.

--------

The door to the apartment creaked, and Thomas’s heart skipped a beat. For a moment, he dared to hope it was Kong—coming back, maybe. But the sound faded, and the silence returned. There was no Kong. Only the ghost of him, lingering in the corners of the room.

Thomas closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his mistakes settle around him. He couldn’t undo what he had done. He couldn’t take back the hurt. But he had to find a way to make it right.

Even if it meant letting go of the one thing he wanted more than anything—Kong.

Thomas had tried to reach out. Texts. Calls. But nothing. Kong wasn’t responding.

He couldn’t blame him. How could he?

The guilt gnawed at him, a constant presence in his mind. But there was something else, too—something darker. A sense of dread. What if Kong never came back? What if everything they had built together—everything that had once been so real—was gone, just like that?

His phone buzzed, breaking the stillness. He reached for it, hope surging in his chest as he saw Kong’s name on the screen. For a brief moment, he thought maybe—just maybe—things were starting to heal. But when he opened the message, his heart sank.

It was short. Cold.

“I need space. I can’t do this right now.”

That was it.

Thomas’s fingers trembled as he read the words again, the heaviness of them sinking into his bones. It wasn’t a solution. It wasn’t an answer. It was just another reminder of the chasm that had opened between them.

“Space,” he whispered to himself, bitterly. He could give Kong space. He would give him anything, if only it meant a chance to fix what he had broken.

But how could he fix it if Kong wasn’t even willing to talk to him?

A sudden sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Thomas froze, his pulse quickening. It was too soon. It couldn’t be Kong. He wouldn’t show up here. Not like this.

But the knock came again, more insistent this time.

Thomas dragged himself to the door, his heart pounding in his chest. His hand hovered over the doorknob before he opened it. And there he was.

Kong.

Standing in the hallway, looking worn, fragile, and more distant than Thomas had ever seen him before. His eyes were darker than usual, the weight of exhaustion and hurt heavy in them. He was staring at the floor, his posture stiff, like he was afraid to look up.

Thomas’s breath hitched in his throat. The sight of him—this version of Kong—was almost more than he could bear. This wasn’t the person he had known. This wasn’t the person he loved.

“N'Kong…” Thomas started, but his voice cracked before he could say more. He swallowed hard, trying to steady himself. “I… I didn’t expect you to come.”

“I needed to,” Kong said, his voice barely above a whisper. There was no warmth in it. Only emptiness.

Thomas wanted to reach out, wanted to pull Kong into his arms, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to.

“I’m sorry,” Kong continued, his voice strained, “but I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t even know what happened to us.”

The words hit Thomas like a physical blow. He wanted to speak, to tell Kong everything he had been holding inside—the regret, the guilt, the desperation—but nothing came out. His throat felt tight, and his words were caught somewhere deep inside of him, a knot of emotions he couldn’t untangle.

Kong looked at him then, his eyes meeting Thomas’s for the first time since the confrontation. There was no anger, no accusation. Just a deep, soul-crushing sadness.

“I thought I knew you, P'Tho,” Kong said, his voice quiet. “I thought I could trust you.”

Thomas’s heart shattered. He had been so sure of everything, of them. And now, everything was slipping through his fingers like sand.

“I never meant to hurt you,” Thomas said, his voice barely a whisper. “I swear, I never wanted to.”

Kong’s gaze softened for a moment, but the pain in his eyes didn’t fade. “But you did,” he said, the words more painful than anything Thomas had heard. “You hurt me. And now… I don’t know if I can ever go back.”

Thomas’s chest ached as if someone had just ripped out his heart. He stood frozen, unable to speak, unable to move. Kong was slipping away from him.

“Goodbye, P'Tho,” Kong said, his voice trembling. And then, without another word, he turned and walked away.

Thomas’s knees buckled, and he sank to the floor, his hands gripping the edge of the doorframe for support. His whole body trembled as the weight of everything—the guilt, the regret, the loss—crashed down on him all at once. He had broken the one person who had ever truly loved him. And now, he had lost him.

For good.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Kong stood in front of the window in his apartment, his hand resting on the cool glass. The city lights stretched out before him, but they seemed distant, almost unreachable. Everything felt muted now, as if the vibrancy he once felt had drained from the world. His heart felt heavier with every passing second.

He missed Thomas.

It wasn’t just the obvious things—the way Thomas would tease him, or the warmth in his eyes when they shared quiet moments. It was the subtle things. The way Thomas hummed absently when he made coffee in the mornings. The way his fingers would brush Kong's, sending that spark of familiarity through him. Those were the things Kong longed for now. But they were all gone.

The space between them had grown wider. And he had asked for it. Space. He had asked for time to think, to breathe, to understand his feelings. To figure out if there was a way forward. But it felt like every day without him only made the ache inside him worse. Was it even possible to rebuild something that had been broken so deeply?

Could he trust Thomas again? Could he let himself forgive the mistake, or was it more than that? Was it something deeper, something that was changing everything between them?

Kong paced around his own apartment, the stillness almost suffocating him. The silence of  now felt heavier than the noise of their old life together. 

His phone buzzed on the counter. He stared at it for a long moment, the screen lit up with a message that wasn’t from Thomas. It was from a friend asking if he was okay, checking in on him. But the question felt hollow. No one could truly understand what was happening inside him.

Kong let the phone buzz a few more times before he finally picked it up. He swiped through a few texts, but nothing stuck. His mind kept drifting back to the conversation—the confrontation in the apartment. The video.

He had left. He had asked for space because he needed it, but now he wasn’t sure if it was the right decision. Was he running from the pain? Or was he just trying to protect himself from the inevitable?

He thought about the past. The way Thomas had looked at him before everything started to feel wrong. He thought about their promises—about the way Thomas had held him close, whispering that they’d be okay, that they would always be okay. But now, Kong wasn't so sure.

Could he ever be okay again?

Kong sat down on the couch, staring at the empty space beside him. He thought about the times when he had felt so sure of everything. The love he had for Thomas. The trust they had built. And now? Now everything felt uncertain. The world around him felt uncertain. He could still hear Thomas’s voice in his mind, the way he had begged for forgiveness. But the pain of what had happened—of what he had seen—kept him trapped.

It wasn’t just about the kiss, or the video. It was about the years they had spent building something that now seemed fragile. Was it something that could be rebuilt?

But more than that, Kong was scared. Scared that if he gave in too easily, he would be setting himself up for more hurt. And scared that if he walked away completely, he might never be able to forgive himself for not trying.

Time was passing. And Kong was still standing at the crossroads, not sure which path to take. Should he reach out? Should he give Thomas another chance? Or was this truly the end?

He didn’t know. Not yet.

And that uncertainty? That was the hardest part.

He finally stood up, walking back to the window. His fingers grazed the cold glass again, but now, the city felt even farther away. He wasn’t ready to make a decision. Not today.

Kong sighed, turning his back on the window. As he sat back down, a part of him wished that everything could go back to how it was. But another part of him knew that it never would. The question now was whether or not he could live with that.

As night fell and the city lights twinkled in the distance, Kong’s heart remained as uncertain as it had been when he first stood here. He didn’t have answers. Maybe he never would.

But for now, he was just going to wait. Wait for the pain to fade, or for clarity to arrive.

The decision would come, eventually. But not tonight.