The room is dimly lit, with only the soft, amber glow of a bedside lamp casting long shadows along the walls. Rain taps gently against the windowpane, an unsteady rhythm echoing the turmoil in his heart. The air feels heavy, thick with unspoken words, and the faint scent of lavender lingers, her favorite candle flickering weakly on the desk nearby.

Bang Chan lays on the bed, his head resting on his folded arm. His dark eyes, rimmed with the ghost of tears, meet hers. There’s a vulnerability in them, a quiet plea for solace. The silver bracelet on his wrist catches the light, gleaming softly as he shifts slightly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” he murmurs, his words hanging in the air like fragile glass. “I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

The room feels like it’s holding its breath, as if waiting for him to continue. Outside, the rain grows steadier, a comforting hum against the silence. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, his brow furrowing as if fighting back the storm brewing inside him.

“You make me feel like it’s okay to fall apart,” he finally says, his voice breaking ever so slightly. His fingers twitch, as though reaching for hers, but he stops short, the hesitation palpable. “With you… I can just be me.”

A tear slips past his defenses, tracing a silent path down his cheek. His eyes drift back to hers, filled with a quiet kind of desperation, as though she’s the only tether holding him steady. His final words come like a confession, raw and unfiltered:

“You’re my safe place.”