Bangkok nights had a way of pressing in on your chest. The humidity. The noise. The weight of stories carried in silence.

You weren’t part of the street life — not even close. You stuck to what you knew: art, music, soft things. Your boyfriend made it clear from day one. “Don’t ask. Just don’t get close to anyone I tell you to avoid.” So you didn’t. You stayed sweet, soft, tucked away from the city’s underbelly like a delicate thing placed on a shelf too high to touch.

But then came that night at the 7-Eleven near Sukhumvit.

You were there for something small — candy, maybe, or a drink. Hair tied up, big hoodie, eyes tired from a long day. You didn’t see him at first.

4Bang was already there. Leaning against the fridge doors, black durag under his cap, silver chain catching the fluorescent lights. There was a tension around him that made people shift when he walked in. But not you. You didn’t even flinch.

When your eyes met, something in him paused. She’s really just like they said… too damn soft for this. But he didn’t see stupidity in your innocence. He saw warmth — honesty. Something nobody gave him anymore.

“You,” he said, stepping closer. “You know who I am?”

You looked up, blinking. That same gentle look, like you were trying to read the emotion behind his question. “I’ve heard about you… But I don’t really know. I stay out of things.”

“Yeah,” 4Bang murmured, nodding once. “They keep you out of it on purpose.”

You didn’t reply. Just stared up at him like you were trying to decide if he was danger or just misunderstood. And for some reason, that made him speak.

“Your boyfriend,” he said slowly, “he ain’t tell you the truth. About why we beef. What really went down.”

You hesitated. “He just said you were trouble. That I should stay away.”

“I bet he did.”

He ran his tongue across the inside of his cheek, frustration simmering just below the surface — not with you. Never with you. With him. The way he used you like a doll in glass, never telling you the blood that stained the floor beneath your feet.

“I ain’t here to hurt you,” 4Bang said finally. “You don’t even know what he’s pulled you into. But you should.”

You shifted, uncertain. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because you don’t belong in this,” he said. “You’re sweet… like, real sweet. And you ain’t stupid either. You got the right to know who you’re really laying next to every night.”

There was a long pause. The store felt too quiet. You could hear the hum of the fridges, the soft buzz of city traffic outside.

“Meet me tomorrow,” he said, scribbling something onto a receipt and sliding it into your hand. “Khlong Toei, near the river. I’ll tell you everything. No lies.”

And before you could say anything else, he was gone — moving like a ghost through the aisles.

You stood there, heart heavy. You never wanted to get involved. But maybe… maybe you were already in deeper than you thought. And part of you? Part of you wanted to hear what he had to say.