Chapter Text
The air in the room was thick with unspoken words, pressing down on them like a weight too heavy to bear. Tan and Fang sat across from each other, the distance between them far greater than the mere width of the table. Their hands moved mechanically, twirling strands of spaghetti on their forks, but neither made any effort to eat. The silence was as bitter as the cold food on their plates.
"How was your day?" Fang finally broke the silence, his voice tentative, as if afraid of the answer.
"It was okay," Tan replied, his tone distant, as he shrugged indifferently. "Nothing special. What about yours?"
"It was... fine," Fang whispered, his eyes searching Tan’s face for something, anything, to hold onto. "Are you sure everything's alright?"
Tan turned to meet his gaze, his expression unreadable as he nodded. "Yeah, why wouldn’t it be?"
Fang's heart sank at the emptiness in Tan's voice. "No reason," he murmured, pushing back from the table. "I’m going to bed." He didn’t wait for a response, retreating to the cold comfort of their shared bedroom.
Morning light filtered through the curtains as Tan and Fang finished their breakfast in an uneasy silence.They were supposed to be on break, a time to rest and enjoy each other's company, but Tan had insisted on finding a job. Fang had tried to dissuade him, suggesting they take this time to relax, but Tan wouldn’t hear of it.
"I'm heading to work, love," Tan said, grabbing his keys. "I'll be back later."
"Okay, see you," Fang replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
The hours dragged by painfully slowly. Around 2 p.m., Tan returned, his steps heavy with exhaustion.
"Ahhh, I'm so tired of working," Tan whined, a playful pout on his lips. Fang couldn’t help but shake his head.
"I told you not to work," Fang said, though his voice lacked its usual warmth.
"It's fun, but tiring," Tan murmured, sinking into the couch, his eyes drifting closed. Fang watched him, a hollow ache blooming in his chest. Had he forgotten? Fang’s heart twisted painfully as the realization struck.
Oh.
A few days later, Fang stood in front of the mirror, adjusting his outfit for the date Tan had promised. They hadn’t gone out in a while, and Fang was eager for a night that would remind them of how things used to be. But as the seconds ticked by, the minutes stretched into hours, and the hope that had been flickering in Fang’s chest began to wane. By the time Tan finally walked through the door, Fang had already changed into something more comfortable, the evening’s anticipation now cold in the pit of his stomach.
"I'm home," Tan called out, his voice too casual, too unaware of the tension coiling inside Fang. Fang responded with a noncommittal hum, not even bothering to look at him.
"Is everything okay, love?" Tan asked, sensing the shift in the air.
"I don't know, Tan. Is it?" Fang’s voice was sharp, a knife slicing through the pretense of normalcy. Tan recoiled, confusion etched across his features.
"What's wrong? What's got you so pissed?" Tan’s brow furrowed, his tone defensive, though fear crept into his words.
"Maybe the fact that my boyfriend doesn’t give a damn about me!" Fang’s voice cracked under the weight of the words, his heart breaking even as he said them. Tan stood there, stunned, as if the ground had been ripped out from beneath him.
"What the hell are you saying, Fang?" Tan’s voice wavered, his hands trembling as they clenched into fists. His heart pounded painfully against his ribs, disbelief crashing over him in waves.
"I’m saying that it feels like you don’t care about this relationship anymore! You can’t even be bothered to show up for our dates!" Fang’s tears spilled over, streaking down his cheeks as he finally met Tan’s eyes. Tan’s heart shattered at the sight, but anger flickered to life beside the pain.
"I don’t care? Fang, I’m sorry for not always being on time, but I’m doing this for us! I’m working to give you the life you deserve, to take you out on better dates, to make sure our future is secure. Yes, I might be screwing up, but how can you say I don’t care?"
"Better dates? We’re not even going on any dates, Tan! Why? Because you’re never here!" Fang’s voice was raw, each word tearing through the fragile threads holding them together.
"I’m sorry, okay? I’m trying to balance everything!" Tan’s frustration boiled over. He was giving all he had, yet it felt like it was never enough. Fang’s lack of understanding made him feel as if he was fighting a losing battle.
"I don’t care anymore, just leave me alone," Fang whispered, his voice barely audible as he turned away. Tan’s heart sank, the weight of his failure pressing down on him as he left the room, his footsteps echoing in the silence that followed. They spent that evening in a wordless void, the space between them growing wider with each passing second. Later that night, Tan tried to make amends, pulling Fang into his arms, and for a moment, it seemed like they were okay again. But the cracks were there, and they were deep.
Happiness, like a fragile flower, tends to wilt sooner than we'd like.
The next day, Fang found himself walking toward Tan's workplace, a charming little coffee shop just down their street. Tan had invited him over after work for some drinks and desserts, and Fang had eagerly agreed. He missed spending time with Tan, and the thought of a cozy afternoon together filled him with warmth.
But as he stepped into the café, that warmth quickly turned cold. His eyes fell upon a scene that made his heart tighten—a younger guy, likely a few years his junior, was clinging onto Tan's arm. They were behind the register, and while it seemed Tan was explaining something to him, the guy's proximity felt too intimate, too familiar. Was it really necessary for him to be all over Tan like that? Fang's jaw clenched involuntarily as he tried to suppress the surge of jealousy that threatened to spill over.
Tan looked up and noticed him, a bright smile spreading across his face. "Oh, darling, you're here," he called out cheerfully. The guy, still latched onto Tan's arm, turned to look at Fang. His smile was barely there, just a slight upward twitch of the lips, as if Fang’s presence was more of an inconvenience than anything else.
Fang's eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze never leaving the younger man’s hand. Tan seemed to catch on and gently pushed the guy away. "You can sit anywhere you like, but I recommend the corner booth over there. I'll be with you in a minute."
As Fang walked over to the booth, he overheard the guy ask, "P’, is that your boyfriend?" The tone was light, almost mocking, and Fang had to resist the urge to whip around and snap at him. Tan’s response was short and definitive: "Yes."
Fang settled into the booth, but the unease gnawing at him refused to fade. He wanted to trust Tan—he really did—but the image of that younger guy clinging to him lingered like a bad aftertaste. He picked up the menu, but the words blurred as his mind kept replaying the scene he’d just witnessed.
Moments later, Tan approached with a bright smile, holding a tray with two steaming cups of coffee and a slice of cake. "Here you go, love," he said, placing them on the table. Fang forced a smile, hoping to mask the turmoil churning inside him.
"So, who's the new guy?" Fang asked, trying to sound casual as he took a sip of his coffee. His voice came out a little too nonchalant, and he watched Tan’s face closely for any sign of discomfort.
"Ah, that's Mew, the new part-timer," Tan replied, seemingly oblivious to Fang's underlying tension. "He's still learning the ropes, so I was just showing him around."
Fang nodded, stirring his coffee even though it didn’t need it. "Seems like he’s... really fond of you," Fang commented, his eyes flicking up to meet Tan's, searching for something—anything—that would reassure him.
Tan let out a light laugh, dismissing Fang’s concern with ease. "He’s just friendly. Nothing to worry about, okay?" Tan reached across the table to squeeze Fang's hand, his touch warm and familiar, a touch that Fang used to find comforting.
But today, that warmth did little to soothe the chill settling in Fang’s bones. "Friendly, huh?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to their intertwined hands. "I just don’t like how he was all over you like that."
Tan sighed softly, the weight of Fang’s words sinking in. "Fang, there’s nothing going on between us. You’re the only one I care about," he said, his voice earnest, his eyes locking onto Fang's with an intensity that almost made Fang believe him.
Fang nodded, trying to force himself to believe the reassurance in Tan’s words. "I know... I just, I just don’t like seeing anyone else so close to you," he admitted, his voice cracking slightly, betraying the vulnerability he tried so hard to hide.
Tan’s expression softened, and he leaned over to kiss Fang's hand. "You have nothing to worry about, love. I’m yours, and only yours," he murmured, his lips brushing against Fang's skin with a tenderness that usually made Fang’s heart soar.
But today, even that tenderness couldn’t fully untangle the knot in Fang’s stomach. He wanted to believe Tan—he desperately did—but a shadow of doubt had taken root, nourished by the distance that had grown between them lately. And no matter how hard he tried, Fang couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t quite right.
Later that evening, the tension from earlier still hung in the air like an unspoken truth, too heavy to ignore yet too fragile to confront. Fang tried to push it aside as they walked home, focusing instead on Tan's voice. Tan seemed more relaxed now, chatting about how the café had been busy all day and how he was considering taking on more shifts to help out. His words flowed easily, but beneath them, Fang could hear the undercurrent of exhaustion.
As they entered their apartment, the weight of Fang’s thoughts became too much to bear. He couldn’t hold it in any longer. "Tan," he began cautiously, "are you sure about working so much? I mean, you’re already exhausted, and we barely see each other as it is."
Tan, sensing the direction of the conversation, turned to face Fang. His expression shifted from relaxed to serious in an instant, his eyes searching Fang’s face. "I know it’s a lot, but I’m doing this for us, Fang. I want to save up, build a future together. Don’t you want that too?"
Fang’s heart clenched at the word "future." It had always been their shared dream, but now it felt like a distant promise rather than a tangible reality. "Of course I do, Tan," Fang replied, his voice tinged with desperation. "But I don’t want a future where we’re just ships passing in the night. What’s the point of working so hard if we’re never together?"
Tan sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as if trying to massage away the tension. "I’m doing this so we can have something more stable, something secure. You’ve always said you wanted to travel, to see the world. I’m trying to make that happen."
Fang looked at him, frustration bubbling to the surface, threatening to spill over. "I don’t need all that if it means losing you in the process, Tan. I don’t need a big house or fancy trips if it means we’re growing apart."
Tan’s frown deepened, his eyes narrowing as if trying to decipher something that didn’t quite make sense. "What are you saying? That you’d rather I just give up on our future?"
Fang shook his head, feeling the words tumbling out before he could fully process them. "No, I’m saying I want to be part of that future, not just waiting around while you build it on your own. I want us to be together, to actually live our lives, not just plan for a distant future that may never come."
Tan’s gaze darkened, his voice dropping to a low, strained tone that made Fang’s heart ache. "So you think I’m wrong for trying to give us something better? I’m doing all this for you, for us, and now you’re saying it’s not enough?"
Fang felt a sharp sting at the corners of his eyes, the tears threatening to spill over as his frustration and hurt finally boiled to the surface. "I’m saying that what we have now should be enough, Tan! We don’t need more money or more things to be happy. We need each other."
Tan stared at him, a storm of emotions brewing behind his eyes—a mixture of anger, confusion, and sadness. "And you think I’m not enough, Fang? That’s what this is really about, isn’t it?"
Fang shook his head, the tears now flowing freely down his cheeks as he wiped them away with trembling hands. "No, Tan, that’s not it at all. I love you, but I’m scared we’re losing ourselves in this pursuit of ‘more.’ I just want us back."
The silence that followed was suffocating, thick with the weight of their unspoken fears and the realization that perhaps their dreams for the future were no longer aligned. They stood there, caught in the widening chasm between them, each afraid to take the first step to bridge it, each wondering if it was already too late.
The atmosphere in their apartment had become unbearably tense over the past few days. Tan and Fang moved around each other like shadows, their interactions reduced to the bare minimum. They had once shared everything—dreams, fears, even silly thoughts that popped into their heads. But now, silence filled the spaces where their words used to be.
Fang felt the weight of it all as they sat down for dinner, the clinking of silverware on plates the only sound in the room. He couldn't take it anymore; the silence was suffocating him. He wanted to reach out, to bridge the gap that had formed between them, but fear held him back. What if Tan was truly upset with him? What if trying to talk only made things worse?
Still, Fang knew they couldn’t go on like this. He took a deep breath and decided to try.
"How was your day?" Fang asked, trying to sound casual, though his heart was pounding.
Tan glanced up briefly, then back down at his plate. "It was fine. Just the usual stuff," he said with a shrug, his tone flat.
Fang frowned, feeling a pang of frustration. "Just fine? Nothing new?"
Tan shook his head, still focused on his food. "Nope. Nothing new."
Fang bit his lip, pushing down the irritation that was building inside him. "Are you sure, Tan? You seem... distant."
Tan looked up, his expression guarded. "I'm fine, Fang. Why are you pushing this? I told you, everything’s okay."
Fang’s heart ached at the coldness in Tan's voice. This wasn’t the Tan he knew—the Tan who used to share every little detail of his day, who would talk to him for hours about anything and everything. He felt like he was living with a stranger.
"It’s just that... you don’t talk to me anymore, Tan," Fang said quietly, his voice trembling slightly. "It’s like we’re drifting apart, like I’m living with someone I barely know."
Tan’s expression hardened, his jaw clenching. He knew Fang was right—he had been shutting him out, but hearing it out loud made him feel defensive, even guilty. Still, the frustration and exhaustion of the past few days bubbled over.
"I’m so tired of you complaining about everything, Fang," Tan snapped, his voice sharp. "Can’t we just have a peaceful evening for once? Why does everything have to be a big issue with you?"
Fang recoiled at Tan's words, hurt flashing in his eyes. "A big issue? Tan, I’m not trying to make this difficult. I just want us to talk, to be like we used to. I miss you."
Tan sighed, rubbing his temples in frustration. "And I miss how things used to be too, Fang. But every time we talk lately, it just ends up in an argument. I just want some peace, for both of us."
Fang’s voice broke as he spoke, his emotions spilling over. "Peace? How can we have peace when we’re not even communicating anymore? We’re just pretending everything’s okay when it’s not. How can you not see that?"
Tan's heart sank at the sight of Fang’s tears, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit that Fang was right—not now, not when he felt so overwhelmed. "I don’t know, Fang," Tan finally muttered, his voice quieter, almost defeated. "I don’t know what to do anymore."
The silence that followed was thick with unresolved tension, both of them sitting there, staring at their plates, too hurt and too afraid to speak. The distance between them felt insurmountable, and neither of them knew how to bridge it.
The tension between Tan and Fang had been simmering for days, like a pot ready to boil over. What had started as small, petty disagreements—forgotten messages, missed calls, and disagreements over trivial matters—had spiraled into more serious issues. They argued about everything now, from how they spent their time to what their future together would look like. Every conversation seemed to end in raised voices, and their once warm and loving home had turned into a battlefield.
Fang could feel the familiar tension rising in his chest as Tan walked into the living room, where Fang was curled up on the couch. Tan looked tired, a bag slung over his shoulder, but there was a faint smile on his face as he set it down.
"I’m heading over to Peem’s place tonight," Tan said casually. "The guys are getting together for a little hangout. I’ll be back later."
Fang’s stomach tightened at the mention of Tan’s friends. He knew he shouldn’t feel the way he did, but the distance between them had made him more insecure, more resentful. Under his breath, barely audible, Fang muttered, "So, for them, you do have time..."
Tan froze, his hand still on the strap of his bag. He turned slowly to look at Fang, his expression hardening as he processed what he’d just heard. "Are you really going to start with this again?" Tan’s voice was low, laced with frustration. "I’ve told you already, I’m sorry for not making it on time before. But I’ve been busy—everything I’m doing is for us."
Fang looked away, his jaw clenched. "Busy. That’s what you always say. But when I ask you to spend time with me, there’s always an excuse. And now, you’re going out with them like everything’s fine."
Tan’s patience, already worn thin, snapped. "I’ve offered to take you out, but you keep turning me down, Fang! And now that I want to see my friends, you’re making it a problem. What do you want from me?"
Fang’s heart pounded as the argument escalated. "I want you to care, Tan! I want you to make an effort like you used to. You don’t even talk to me anymore. It’s like I don’t matter to you."
Tan’s hands balled into fists at his sides, the frustration bubbling over. "You don’t matter? Fang, I’m doing everything I can to make sure we have a future together. I’m working hard, trying to balance everything, and all you do is accuse me of not caring."
Fang’s eyes narrowed, his voice rising. "A future? At this rate, it doesn’t even seem like we have a future together! You’re always late, you forget things that matter to me, and you don’t even try to make up for it. Do you even love me anymore, Tan?"
The question hit Tan like a slap in the face. He stumbled back, shock and hurt flashing across his face. "What are you saying, Fang? Of course I love you. But maybe—" Tan hesitated, the words catching in his throat. He didn’t mean to say it, but the hurt and frustration pushed him over the edge. "Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore."
The words hung in the air like a death sentence, both of them staring at each other in stunned silence. Fang’s breath caught in his throat, his eyes filling with tears as the weight of Tan’s words sank in. Tan’s face crumpled as he realized what he had just said, the regret hitting him instantly.
"Fang, I didn’t mean—" Tan’s voice was shaky, desperate to take back the words that had just shattered their world. He reached out, wanting to pull Fang into his arms, to undo the damage he had just done.
But Fang recoiled, pulling away from Tan’s touch as if it burned. "Don’t," Fang whispered, his voice breaking. "Don’t touch me."
Tan’s heart broke at the sight of Fang’s tears, his own vision blurring as he tried to hold himself together. He had hurt the person he loved most in the world, and now, there was nothing he could do to fix it.
They stood there, the silence between them deafening, the distance greater than it had ever been. Tan wanted to take back every word, to make everything right, but the damage was done. Fang turned away, his body trembling as he tried to hold back the sobs threatening to escape.
Tan stood frozen, his hand still outstretched, his heart shattering as he watched Fang pull away. The love they had fought so hard to protect now lay in pieces at their feet, and neither of them knew how to pick them up.
Fang’s heart pounded in his chest, the ache so intense it felt as if it might burst. He stood frozen by the door, his eyes burning with unshed tears. The words "Maybe we shouldn’t be together anymore" echoed in his mind, over and over, a cruel reminder of the love he felt slipping through his fingers.
Without another word, Fang let out a shaky breath, grabbed his keys from the counter, and left their condo. The door clicked shut behind him with a finality that sent a shiver down his spine. His hands trembled as he fumbled with his car keys, the cold metal biting into his skin. Fang’s mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion, and all he knew was that he couldn’t stay there, not with the walls closing in on him.
He slid into the driver’s seat, the familiar scent of Tan lingering in the car—a scent that usually brought him comfort, now only deepened the ache in his chest. Fang’s hands gripped the steering wheel tightly as he blinked away the tears that blurred his vision. He didn’t know where to go, but he couldn’t stay still. He couldn’t breathe in that space where their love had turned to ash.
With a shaky exhale, Fang started the car and pulled out of the parking lot, driving aimlessly through the city streets. His mind raced, trying to make sense of everything that had happened, but all he could feel was the overwhelming pain and the sting of betrayal. How had they ended up here? How had the love they’d fought so hard for turned into this?
As the city lights blurred around him, Fang’s vision grew more and more clouded by the tears streaming down his face. The pain was too much to bear, and he felt like he was drowning in it. His chest heaved with sobs, the sound breaking the silence of the car as he desperately tried to catch his breath. It felt like his world was collapsing around him, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
Finally, unable to drive any longer, Fang pulled over into an empty parking lot. He leaned his head against the steering wheel, his body trembling as sobs racked through him. The car was filled with the sound of his broken cries, the pain too intense to contain. All he could think about was how much he loved Tan, how much he had given to their relationship, and how it all seemed to be slipping away.
Back at home, Tan wasn’t faring any better. He stood in the middle of their living room, the silence deafening, his heart in pieces. He couldn’t believe he’d let things get so bad, couldn’t believe he’d said those words that had hurt Fang so deeply. The guilt gnawed at him, mixing with the fear that he might have just lost the person he loved more than anything.
Tan’s hands shook as he reached for his phone, desperate to hear Fang’s voice, to somehow make things right. He sent message after message, his fingers flying over the screen, but there was no response. His calls went straight to voicemail, each unanswered ring a knife twisting in his heart. The night stretched on, each minute filled with agonizing uncertainty as he replayed their argument over and over in his head, wishing he could take it all back.
Tan couldn’t sit still. The fear of losing Fang gnawed at him until he couldn’t bear it anymore. Grabbing his keys, he left the condo, determined to find Fang, to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. But no matter where he looked, no matter how many streets he drove down, Fang was nowhere to be found.
As the hours dragged on, Tan returned home, defeated, his heart heavy with regret. He spent the night pacing the living room, his mind tortured by the thought that he might have pushed Fang away for good. His love for Fang was so strong, so real, but in that moment of anger and frustration, he had said the one thing that might have destroyed everything.
Tan’s eyes burned with unshed tears as he finally sank down onto the couch, his heart aching with a pain he couldn’t put into words. The thought of losing Fang, of never being able to hold him again, was too much to bear. But as the first rays of dawn broke through the window, all Tan could do was pray that it wasn’t too late to fix what had been broken.
When Fang finally returns the next day, the air in the condo feels different—thick with the weight of everything left unsaid. He steps inside, his eyes scanning the familiar space that now feels foreign. Tan is there, waiting for him, but there’s a coldness between them, a distance that hadn’t existed before. It’s as if the argument from the night before created a chasm too wide to easily bridge.
They both know that things can’t just go back to the way they were. The silence is heavy, the tension palpable as they sit down at the kitchen table. The sun is shining through the window, but it doesn’t bring warmth—it only serves to highlight the stark reality of their situation. This isn’t about reconciliation, not yet. It’s about whether they can even continue being together.
Fang is the first to break the silence, his voice low and tired. “I think… maybe we need some time apart,” he says, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. His heart aches as he says it, but he knows they can’t keep pretending that everything is fine. The wounds from their argument are still too fresh, too raw.
Tan flinches at Fang’s words, his chest tightening with pain. The thought of being apart from Fang feels like the end of the world, but he knows deep down that Fang might be right. Their relationship, once so full of love and laughter, has become a battlefield of hurt and misunderstanding. They’ve reached a crossroads, and neither of them knows how to move forward.
“I don’t want to lose you,” Tan whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “But maybe… maybe you’re right. Maybe we need to figure things out on our own for a while.”
Fang’s heart shatters at the sight of Tan’s tears, but he forces himself to stay strong. He loves Tan more than anything, but right now, they’re both hurting too much to make things right. The idea of being without Tan is unbearable, but they both know they can’t continue like this—not without taking a step back to see if they can heal.
They sit there in silence for a long moment, both of them equally sad and lost. There’s no easy answer, no quick fix for the damage that’s been done. Fang’s hand trembles as he reaches across the table, his fingers brushing against Tan’s. For a moment, they cling to that touch, a reminder of the love they still feel, even in the midst of their pain.
But they both know it’s not enough, not right now. With a heavy heart, Fang pulls his hand away, his eyes filled with tears. “I’ll pack some things and go stay with Phum for a while,” he says quietly, the finality of the words hanging in the air.
Tan nods, unable to speak past the lump in his throat. He watches as Fang stands and walks to the bedroom, his footsteps echoing through the condo that suddenly feels far too empty. When Fang returns with a small bag, Tan stands too, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.
As Fang heads for the door, he pauses, turning back to Tan one last time. “This isn’t goodbye, Tan,” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “I just… I need to figure out if we can find our way back to each other.”
Tan swallows hard, tears streaming down his face. “I’ll wait for you, Fang. However long it takes, I’ll wait.”
Fang’s heart clenches at the sight of Tan’s tears, but he knows this is what they both need. With a final, heart-wrenching look, Fang steps out the door, closing it softly behind him. The sound echoes in the silence, a stark reminder of the emptiness they now face.
And as they both stand on opposite sides of that door, equally heartbroken, they can only hope that time apart will bring them the clarity they desperately need. But for now, all they can do is wait—alone, but still connected by the fragile thread of a love that refuses to let go, even in the face of the deepest pain.