Archive of Our Own

The sharp clack clack clack of keyboard keys echoed softly in the small design studio, broken only by the low hum of the air conditioner. Build sat in front of his monitor, squinting at the screen as he adjusted the shadowing on a campaign poster he had been working on for hours. The deadline was tomorrow, but his focus kept drifting, first to the ticking clock, then to the nearly empty coffee cup by his side.

He let out a sigh, rolling his shoulders, then leaned in again.

Ping!

A small envelope icon popped up at the corner of his screen. He clicked it without much thought, expecting a client revision or team update—until he saw the sender.

From: Bible Wichapas
Subject: Re: Your stuff

Build's heart did a small, stupid flip in his chest.

He stared at the name.

Bible.

His chest tightened slightly. Of course, it had to be that email.

Almost two weeks ago, Build had typed out a message: impulsive, simple, but something he knew he had to do. He didn't have Bible's number anymore. He deleted it after the breakup. Social media? Blocked. On both ends. But Bible's work email was public: professional, untouched, and still open for use.

So Build sent it. Just one line.

"I still have some of your things. Let me know how you want to get them back."

At first, there was nothing. Days passed. Then more days. And now, this.

His fingers hovered above the mouse. But before he could click it, the past crept in: uninvited and far too vivid.

One year ago...

"Again? You're canceling again?" Build's voice cracked as he stood by their living room, all dressed up for their supposed dinner out.

Bible didn't look up from his phone. "I told you, I have a presentation early tomorrow. My boss—"

"It's our anniversary, Bible!" Build shouted. "Four years. Four damn years! And you didn't even remember."

Bible finally looked at him, eyes tired. "I'm trying to get promoted, Build. You know how hard I've been working."

"I've been understanding," Build snapped, tears welling in his eyes. "I let the dates slide. The missed calls. The late nights. I kept waiting, hoping you'd make time for me again. For us. But it's always your work."

"I'm not doing it to hurt you," Bible replied calmly, too calmly. "I'm doing it for us. For our future."

"What future?" Build whispered, shaking his head. "You're not even here. You're in this house, but you haven't been with me for months."

There was silence.

"I can't do this anymore," Build said, wiping his eyes quickly. "I'm tired of begging to be seen."

Bible's jaw clenched. "What do you mean?"

"I'm breaking up with you! If that's what it takes for you to realize you've already lost me," Build whispered, voice cracking again, "Let's end this."

Another pause. Then came Bible's reply, staring at Build like he's just a stranger.

"Okay. If that's what you want."

Build remember standing there, frozen. Waiting for something. Anything.

But Bible said nothing more. He went upstairs, leaving Build frozen in the middle of the living room. When Bible came down, he was carrying a backpack and his suitcase. No words. He left their home like it was nothing.

Two days later, Build came home from a late shift to find Bible's half of the closet empty. Some of the books on the shared shelf are gone. Bible's personal computer setup is gone as well, even some appliances that Bible bought personally are missing.

No note. No goodbye.

Just space where Bible used to be.

End of flashback

The room felt colder than before.

Build finally clicked on the email.

"Can't go there.  Bring them to my place.  Friday. Afternoon. I'll pay for your gas. Here's the address. #####— Bible"

So typical. So curt. So...him.

Build scoffed under his breath and leaned back in his chair.

"Of course it has to be a Friday. Of course it has to be his condo. Of course Bible can't act like a decent human being," he muttered, voice laced with frustration. But it was just a cover. A way to drown out the quiet ache still lodged in his chest.

He thought of the cardboard box sitting in the corner of their former bedroom turned home office for Build. Inside were the last pieces of a love he thought would last—hoodies, books, random trinkets with inside jokes, and the things Bible forgot when he moved out without a word.

Build picked up his phone, opened Google Maps, and typed in the address. Forty-two kilometers.

"Gas money won't even cover the emotional damage," he muttered, then clicked 'Reply.'

"Okay. Friday afternoon it is then."

He hit send.

Outside, thunder rumbled faintly in the distance. But Build didn't hear it, not over the storm quietly swirling inside his chest.

Friday came. Rain tapped lightly against the windshield as Build drove down the nearly empty highway, one hand on the steering wheel, the other fidgeting with the air conditioning dial even though the temperature was fine.

His thoughts were loud, louder than the music playing from the car's speakers, louder than the soft hum of tires rolling over the wet asphalt.

He hadn't seen Bible in a year.

Three hundred and sixty-something or more days since that night. Since the fight. Since the silence.

Build tightened his grip on the steering wheel. His heart wasn't racing, but it wasn't calm either. It sat heavily in his chest, stubborn and unsure.

You're just returning his stuff. That's it, he told himself. No small talk. No dragging out the past. Just hand it over and leave.

He didn't want to remember how Bible never said goodbye—how he just packed his things and disappeared. No texts. No closure. Just the echo of four years slipping through the cracks.

Build scoffed under his breath.

Four years. Thrown away like it was nothing.

A soft drizzle began to blur the view ahead. He cursed.

"Shit. Not now," he mumbled. He turned on the wipers and leaned closer toward the wheel. "I need to get this over with before it pours."

An hour later, thick, unforgiving rain slammed against the windshield as Build turned into the driveway of an upscale condominium complex. The guard on duty leaned toward his window with a plastic-covered clipboard.

"Visitor?" the guard asked, his voice muffled by the storm.

"Uh... Yes. For Bible Wichapas," Build answered. "Unit—" he paused and checked his phone, "Unit 802."

The guard glanced at his list, then nodded. "Guest parking on the third level. Take the ramp on your right."

"Thanks," Build replied, pulling forward.

He drove up the ramp and parked in one of the corner spots. The guest parking area was open on the sides, and the rain had already started to spray in through the gaps. He turned off the engine and stared ahead for a moment.

The box sat on the passenger seat, heavier now than when he packed it.

Build sighed. Why does this feel like I'm delivering a piece of myself?

He grabbed the box and got out of the car. A blast of wind pushed rain against his shirt. He flinched, lowering his head. "Great. Perfect timing."

He reached into his pocket to call but stopped halfway.

Right. No number. No chat apps. No way to text or call. Just email.

Build sighed again and muttered, "Should've had it delivered."

He looked up at the building. It's a tall building, probably 10-15 floors. And Bible is on the 8th floor. Probably dry, comfortable, and waiting.

He walked quickly to the elevator bay, arms tightening around the dampening box. As he pressed the button and waited, his mind wandered again.

Why didn't I just send this by courier? He could've. He really should've.

But a small, quiet part of him, one he didn't want to admit existed, knew why.

Because part of him wanted to see Bible again. Even just once. Even if it hurt.

The elevator doors opened with a ding, and Build stepped inside, soaked sleeves and all.

"Just hand it over," he whispered to himself as the doors closed. "Then leave."

The elevator dinged softly on the eighth floor.

Build adjusted the box in his arms and stepped into the hallway. It was quiet, clean, and far too polished. He found Unit 802 at the end of the corridor and raised his hand to press the doorbell. His chest was tight, his mind spinning.

Just hand it over. No need to stay. No small talk.

He pressed it once. Then twice.

A few seconds later, the door opened.

Bible.

His hair is a bit longer, but tied in a small pontail. He's wearing a plain black shirt and jeans, barefoot, his expression unreadable.

Build felt his breath catch—but he hid it well. He held out the box.

"Here," he said shortly.

Bible looked at the box, then at him. "Come in first. It's still pouring, and I have to check the contents."

Build hesitated, but the sound of pounding rain reminded him he didn't have many options.

"...Fine."

He stepped in, wet shoes squeaking softly against the smooth wooden floor.

Bible closed the door and nodded toward the living area. "You can put it down there."

Build kicked his shoes off and walked over, and set the box gently on the floor beside the couch. He looked around briefly. The space was neat—modern furniture, neutral tones, a little too tidy. It didn't feel like Bible. Or maybe he just didn't know this version of him anymore.

"You want something to drink?" Bible asked.

"I'm fine," Build replied.

But a few minutes later, a mug of hot coffee was placed on the coffee table in front of him.

Build stared at it, then at Bible, who had already turned his attention to the box.

He crouched and opened it without a word, pulling back the flaps like he was afraid of what he'd find inside.

The first thing he saw was the black hoodie, his own hoodie, the one Build always stole to sleep in. Bible stared at it for a second, but his face remained still. No reaction. He just folded it and set it aside.

Then came the books. Some with creases on the spine, some gifted during birthdays or anniversaries. Bible looked through each one, slow and careful.

Build didn't say anything. He sipped the coffee quietly, glancing around.

There were two bedrooms in the condo, but the door to one was open, revealing a space filled with shelves, books, and a large desk with a glowing computer screen. A mini library, maybe. Or a home office.

He's working, Build thought. Still chasing that promotion, probably.

Suddenly, the lights flickered.

Once. Twice.

Then... darkness.

The air conditioner stopped. The faint hum of electricity disappeared. The silence felt louder.

"Shit," Bible muttered, standing up quickly.

He walked into the office, moving fast. Build watched from the couch as the other man sat down, typed something, then reached out and began shutting things down properly.

Within a minute, Bible returned to the living area, looking toward the large window.

Rain slammed against the glass. The sky outside was nearly black. No signs of stopping.

"Where did you park?" Bible asked in his low voice.

"Guest parking. Third level."

Bible checked his phone, scrolling for a moment. His eyebrows drew together slightly.

Build stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans. "I should go," he said quietly, glancing toward the door.

Still looking at his phone, Bible replied, "Rain's too strong. Visibility is almost zero."

Build didn't answer right away. He just pulled out his own phone and checked the weather forecast.

Heavy rain warning. Red alert. Continuous rainfall is expected until late evening.

He exhaled hard through his nose and muttered under his breath, "Great. Just great."

He was stuck.

And of all places to be stuck... it had to be here. With Bible.

Hours later, Build sat stiffly on the edge of the couch, scrolling endlessly through his phone. The only thing louder than the rain outside was the growing silence inside the room.

Across from him, Bible was doing the same. Checking updates, swiping through news posts, tapping into weather alerts. The storm wasn't letting up.

The lights blinked again, but this time, they held steady. A few seconds later, the power fully came back on with a soft click as the air conditioning buzzed back to life.

Without a word, Bible picked up the remote and turned on the TV.

Static for a second. Then, local news.

A reporter wearing a poncho stood in front of a dark, flooded road. "As of 4:20 this afternoon, several areas in eastern Bangkok are already experiencing waist-deep flooding. Authorities have closed off low-lying streets, especially in districts prone to poor drainage. Visibility is down to near zero in many areas, and motorists are advised to stay off the roads..."

Bible lowered the volume slightly and walked toward the window. Build watched him, waiting.

"Is it bad?" he asked after a moment.

Bible didn't answer right away. He stood with his arms folded, eyes narrowed.

"The main road outside... it's starting to flood."

Build blinked, surprised. "What?"

"It's rare," Bible said. "I picked this condo specifically because it never floods." He exhaled through his nose. "If water's reaching this far, it means the rain's worse than I thought."

Build turned back to his phone, worry creeping in now.

He opened a chat and typed a quick message to his sister, Bee. 

Build: P'Bee,  can you go to my place and check on Ginger?"

A minute passed. Then she replied.

Bee: Sure! I'll swing by. You okay? 

Build: Yeah. I'm stuck across town. Roads are closing. I'll come home once it's clear.

Bee: Got it. I'll take Ginger to my place just in case. Your area's higher ground, but better to keep him safe than sorry.

Build: Thanks.

Build placed the phone down on the table and rubbed his face tiredly.

Bible was still standing by the window, his phone in hand, glancing out every so often.

Build stood and walked over beside him.

Together, they stared out at the road below—water was gushing down it now, flowing fast like a small river. Cars were slowing, stopping. A few had their hazard lights blinking. It didn't look good.

"Is that normal?" Build asked quietly.

Bible shook his head. "No. It's not." 

"Is there any hotel nearby that I can stay?" Build asks.

Bible tapped at his phone. "There's a hotel nearby. About five kilometers from here. But with that kind of water..." He paused. "I don't think your car will make it."

Build sighed and looked away, jaw tight.

"Shit," he muttered.

A beat of silence passed.

Then Bible spoke, calm but firm. "Just stay."

Build turned to him, eyebrows raised.

"You can use my bedroom if you want. Or the couch. Up to you," Bible added. "I won't bother you. I'm mostly in my home office, I've got work to do anyway."

Then he smirked slightly—dry, sarcastic. "Unless you'd rather sleep in your car."

Build narrowed his eyes. "Very funny."

"Didn't say I was joking."

Build huffed and looked away. "Fine. I'll stay. But I'm taking the couch."

Bible shrugged. "All right." He started walking toward the hallway, then glanced back.

"Feel free to use the kitchen if you're hungry." And just like that, Bible disappeared into the second room, gently closing the door behind him.

Build remained standing in the middle of the living room, the sound of rain filling the space again.

He sank onto the couch, shoulders tense.

This wasn't part of the plan.

He was just supposed to drop off the box and leave. Simple. Quick. Clean.

Instead, he was now trapped with Bible, of all people, in the middle of a storm that didn't seem to want to end.

Build leaned back, staring up at the ceiling, whispering softly like a prayer.

"Please stop raining."

Build sat stiffly on the couch, thumb lazily scrolling on his phone, not even reading what was on screen anymore. He was tired. Annoyed. And worst of all... hungry.

It was already past dinner time, and his stomach was starting to complain louder than the thunder outside.

He glanced toward the kitchen. A small basket near the fridge caught his eye—snack bars, biscuits, maybe chips.

His stomach flipped with hope, but he immediately looked away.

No. He wouldn't invade.

This wasn't his house.

The sound of a door creaking open snapped him from his thoughts.

He quickly pretended to scroll, posture rigid, like a teenager caught in the living room past curfew.

Bible stepped out of his home office, casual and calm. He stretched a little, then looked at Build.

"You hungry?" he asked, voice light, nonchalant.

Build didn't even look up. "No."

As if on cue, his stomach gave a traitorous growl.

Bible raised an eyebrow and sighed. "How does yellow curry sound?"

Build finally looked up. "...That's fine."

Without another word, Bible made his way to the kitchen, grabbed an apron and put it on, and tied his hair in a small ponytail. He began opening cabinets, pulling out ingredients, moving like he knew exactly where everything was.

From the couch, Build watched quietly.

Bible had changed.

His hair was a bit longer now, brushing against his ears. He was broader too—muscles more defined, especially in his arms, which flexed slightly as he chopped vegetables.

Build exhaled, glancing toward the window. The rain had eased, but not stopped. Outside, the road was still flooded, cars stranded under streetlamps. According to the news, the waters wouldn't subside anytime soon.

He wasn't going anywhere tonight.

Eventually, the scent of yellow curry filled the room—warm, rich, almost nostalgic. His stomach growled again, louder this time.

Bible set the table without a word and turned toward him.

"Dinner's ready."

Build stood up and followed. The smell hit him stronger up close—lemongrass, turmeric, coconut, something earthy and comforting.

His mouth nearly watered.

They sat down opposite each other.

Build picked up his spoon. "Thanks... for dinner."

Bible just gave a small nod.

They ate in silence at first, the only sound was the clinking of spoon against ceramic.

Build took a bite.

It was good. Really good.

But he wasn't about to say that out loud.

Then, Bible spoke. "So... how are you?"

Build looked up slowly. "Are we having a conversation?"

Bible's tone didn't change. "Might as well. We're stuck with each other tonight."

Build let out a small, tired laugh. "Didn't think you liked conversations. You usually just stay silent and let things rot."

Bible's spoon paused for a split second.

He didn't say anything back.

The moment hung heavy for a beat. Just long enough for Build to realize he was being unnecessarily sharp.

He sighed. "Sorry. That was... rude."

Bible kept eating, but gave a small shake of his head, as if to say it's fine.

Build sat up straighter. "I'm okay. I got promoted a few months ago. I'm a team leader now."

Bible looked at him and nodded. "Good for you."

"I also have a cat now. Ginger. He's orange, obviously."

Bible gave a short chuckle. "Of course."

"My sister picked him up at home. To keep him safe while I'm stuck here. She now lives nearby. Just two streets away."

"How's P'Bee?" Bible asked.

"She's good. Same as ever. My nephews are... obsessed with skateboards now."

Bible smirked. "That's nice. At least it'll keep them active."

Build nodded, poking at his food. "What about you?" he asked.

Bible leaned back slightly, thinking. "I'm good. After I left your place, I moved into a studio. Got promoted too, head of our department now. That's how I got this condo and a car,"

Build remembers that Bible wants an SUV, so he asks, "SUV?"

Bible smiled faintly. "Yeah. SUV."

Build gave a nod of approval. "Nice. So your hard work paid off."

Bible smiled again, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I guess it did."

The conversation fizzled out there.

They kept eating.

Once they were done, Build stood up and began gathering the plates.

"I'll wash this. You cooked."

Bible didn't argue.

He disappeared into his room.

A few minutes later, Build was drying his hands when he heard soft footsteps again.

Bible returned, arms full—neatly folded clothes, a towel, an extra pillow, and a thick comforter.

He laid them carefully on the couch.

"Shirt, pajama pants, towel... and a clean pair of underwear," he said without a hint of awkwardness. "Never used."

Build blinked at the gesture.

"If you wanna wash your clothes, the washing machine's in the storage closet near the bathroom. My skincare is in the medicine cabinet behind the mirror. New toothbrush on the top shelf in the storage closet."

"...Okay," Build said, a little thrown off. "Thanks."

Bible gave a small nod. "I'll let you be. Got stuff to do."

Build glanced at the couch, then back at Bible.

"Thank you for letting me stay. Also, don't pay me for the gas. Just assume letting me stay here while stranded is your gas money for bringing your stuff."

Bible smiles a bit. "Okay."

He paused in the hallway.

"Good night, Build." Bible said without looking back.

"Good night," Build replied, almost too softly.

It was only when Bible had turned around that he realized—he was smiling.

Build watched as Bible disappeared into his home office again, the door gently clicking shut. He looked down at the things left for him. He picked up the pillow and pressed it, firm, exactly how he liked it.

His fingers hesitated over the fabric for a moment before he turned his gaze toward the closed door.

For the first time in a long while, he wondered: Did Bible still care about him?

The rich smell of something warm and savory floated through the air.

Build stirred under the soft weight of a blanket, his eyes blinking open slowly. For a moment, he stared at the high ceiling above him, confused by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then reality clicked into place—Bible's condo. The storm. The flood. Last night.

He groaned softly and sat up on the couch, stretching his stiff limbs. Sleeping on a narrow couch wasn't exactly comfortable, but it was better than the cold rain outside. He glanced toward the kitchen and spotted Bible's tall figure standing in front of the stove, his back turned, shoulders relaxed as he stirred something in a pot.

The quietness of the room made the moment feel surreal. For a brief second, Build could almost pretend it was a normal morning—before everything fell apart.

He sighed and pulled the comforter from his lap, folding it neatly along with the pillow he had used. His body felt heavy, the kind of heaviness that came from emotional exhaustion rather than sleep. As he rose to his feet, he moved toward the window, parting the curtain with one hand.

Rain slammed against the glass in long, hard streaks. The street below looked worse than yesterday. The floodwater had risen, now reaching up to the condominium's main gate. Cars stood half-submerged. Everything was gray and drowned.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath.

Bible must've heard it because he turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder. "Morning."

Build didn't take his eyes off the window. "The flood got worse."

Bible nodded as he cracked an egg into the pan. "Yeah. It poured hard around dawn."

Build sighed again, a deep, tired sound from his chest. "So I'm still stuck here."

"Staring won't make it go away," Bible said, almost lazily. "Come have breakfast."

"I'll freshen up first," Build said, eyes still on the water outside.

"Sure," Bible replied. "You can use anything from my closet. Bottom drawer of the dresser has brand new underwear."

Build turned to look at him, surprised by the level of detail. "Are you sure it's okay?"

"It's fine. It's not like you're a stranger."

'It feels like it, though.' Build thought but he just nodded and picked up the towel he used last night. He lingered by the hallway before looking back toward Bible. "Is it really okay to go into your room?"

Bible didn't look up from the pan. "Yeah. It's fine."

"...Okay."

Build opened the door to Bible's bedroom and stepped inside.

The room smelled faintly like linen and something clean, like cedar. It was neat, minimal, yet lived-in. The bed was neatly made, the floor spotless, the furniture sleek and modern. Everything about it was still so Bible. Quietly elegant. Unapologetically controlled.

Build walked toward the closet and pulled out a black shirt and gray joggers. Then he opened the bottom drawer, where a pack of unopened underwear sat, still in plastic.

He was about to leave the room when his eyes caught something on the wall.

A canvas.

His steps faltered.

It wasn't just any painting—it was their painting. The one they made together on their second anniversary. They had painted the entire canvas black, then splashed bright streaks of color across it—blue, red, yellow, green—laughing and making a mess. Near the bottom corner, their names were signed in silver paint: Bible & Build.

Build stood frozen. That painting had vanished after their breakup. He thought Bible had thrown it out. But it was here... hanging on his bedroom wall.

Why?

His chest tightened, and he forced himself to look away. He grabbed the towel and went to the bathroom.

Under the warm water of the shower, his thoughts spun. Why keep the painting? Why hang it up where he could see it every day? Wasn't it supposed to be over?

By the time he returned to the dining area, Bible had already set the table. Two bowls of steaming porridge. Fried eggs. A mug of coffee. Utensils lined up perfectly.

Build sat down quietly. The scent of ginger and garlic wafted from the porridge.

"Eat," Bible said, taking his seat across from him. "Help yourself."

Build picked up his spoon and stirred the porridge absentmindedly.

"It's going to rain harder later," Bible added, glancing at his phone. "Afternoon, probably."

Build sighed again, the third time this morning. "Of course it is."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, only the faint sound of rain against the glass and the clinking of spoons filling the space.

Bible finally asked, "Did you sleep okay?"

"It was fine," Build replied. "Though the couch was a bit cramped."

"You should've used the bed."

Build looked at him. "I didn't want to invade your space."

That silence again. Thick and awkward. A reminder that they weren't used to talking anymore.

Then Build remembered the painting.

"I saw the painting," he said quietly.

Bible didn't answer.

"In your room."

Still no response.

"I was looking for it after we broke up. Thought you threw it away. But... you took it."

Bible finally looked up, his face blank. "Yeah. So?"

Build frowned slightly. "You hung it on your wall."

Bible's expression didn't change. "And?"

"I just thought..." Build hesitated. "You could've tossed it. Why keep it?"

Bible's voice turned sharp. "Why not?"

"Because we made that together," Build said, more bitterly than he meant to. "It was ours."

"I know. So?"

"So why the hell would you hang it in your bedroom?" Build snapped. "You left. You didn't care anymore."

Bible's brow furrowed. "That painting meant something to me."

Build laughed under his breath. "Really? Now you say that?"

"Yes," Bible said, louder now. "It was one of the best memories I had with you."

"Then why didn't you fight for us?" Build asked, voice rising. "Why keep a memory you didn't care to protect?"

Bible pushed back his chair and stood up. "Because you gave up on us first, Build. You broke up with me!"

Build's hands clenched around his spoon. "You didn't even try to stop me!"

"I respected your decision!!!" Bible shouted. "You said you were done. I didn't want to beg someone who was already halfway out the door!"

"You were cold, Bible! Distant. You made me feel like I was nothing!"

"You knew I'm going through a tough time at work. You know how badly I want this job, this promotion! I'm close to achieving it, with you by my side," Bible's voice cracked. "And yet, you left me. You broke up with me. How can I fight for someone who already gave up on me?"

The words hit like a slap. Build felt his throat tighten, his eyes started to sting.

He turned his face away, biting the inside of his cheek.

Bible cursed under his breath and walked away. A second later, the door to his room slammed shut.

The silence returned, deafening.

Build sat there, heart thudding painfully in his chest, staring at the untouched porridge in front of him. He wiped his eyes quickly, furious at himself.

Because Bible was right.

He was the one who walked away.

But back then... how could he stay when the person he loved most had already started shutting him out?

The silence that lingered after the slammed door was deafening.

Build is sitting on the chair, facing the untouched breakfast Bible had prepared. The porridge had cooled, steam no longer rising from the bowl. He took a spoonful—one, two, three... maybe five. The taste was warm, familiar, even comforting—but something in his chest felt tight, like the food couldn't go down properly. His stomach churned with regret and frustration more than hunger.

He set the spoon down gently on the table and pushed the bowl away. The eggs remained untouched. His appetite was gone.

Without a word, Build stood up and began cleaning. He washed the dishes quietly, the sound of running water and clinking plates the only movement in the still condo. His hands moved on their own—rinse, soap, scrub—almost like it was muscle memory from when they used to live together. Back when things weren't this complicated. Back when their silence was comfortable.

After drying the last plate, he turned to look at the hallway. Bible's home office door was closed.

Closed, like everything else between them.

He lingered for a moment, wanting—no, needing—to say something. Anything. But he turned away, walked slowly to the window, and stared outside.

The storm hadn't stopped.

The water on the street was rising even more, now up to the gate entrance. Some parked motorcycles had been moved by the flood, drifting like unwanted toys. The sky was a dull gray, heavy with sorrow and gloom.

Just like his heart.

Build's reflection stared back at him on the glass, tired eyes and disheveled hair. He hated how the confrontation earlier kept replaying in his mind—Bible's raised voice, the hurt in his eyes, the sound of the door slamming like a final goodbye. Again.

"Because you gave up on us first, Build. You broke up with me!"

Build bit his lip and clenched his jaw. Was he?

Back then, all he knew was that he felt alone, even when he wasn't. Bible was there, but not really. Physically present, mentally buried in deadlines and corporate pressure. There were missed dinners, canceled weekend plans, and unanswered texts. One time, he cried alone on their shared bed while Bible worked in the other room, unaware.

It built up slowly, like a dam filling up with quiet tears and swallowed feelings. And then one day, it broke.

But now... Now that he saw Bible again, that same dull ache in his chest had returned. He wasn't sure if it was regret, longing, or old wounds being torn open again.

He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead on the cold glass. Maybe I should've tried harder. Maybe I should've waited.

But then again...

He didn't even fight for me.

Build swallowed hard. That's what still stung the most. That Bible let him go. Just... accepted it. No questions, no grand gestures, no begging. Four years, and he ended it with a quiet, painful "okay."

Behind the closed door, Bible sat at his desk, staring blankly at his computer screen.

There were no meetings scheduled, no urgent emails, no workload to bury himself in. Just the hum of the monitor and the storm whispering against the windows.

His hand hovered over the mouse, unmoving.

But his mind was racing.

Build's voice still echoed in his ears, laced with bitterness, confusion, hurt. The painting. Their fight. The look in Build's eyes when he accused him of throwing everything away.

Bible leaned back in his chair and exhaled shakily.

He didn't mean for things to end like that.

When Build broke up with him a year ago, his world crumbled quietly. Bible had poured everything into work, not just for status or pride, but because he wanted to build a future with Build. He imagined them moving into a bigger place, traveling more, and being able to afford things without second-guessing every baht. He wanted to provide, to be a partner worthy of forever.

But in the process, he didn't notice Build slowly slipping through the cracks.

And when Build finally told him he wasn't happy anymore, Bible was too stunned to fight back. His heart wanted to scream don't go—but his mouth only said okay.

Because how could he force someone to stay... when he was the reason they were unhappy?

His throat tightened as he ran his hand over his face.

I loved him. I still do.

Seeing Build again reopened the pain he thought he had buried. The little things, the sound of his footsteps, his familiar scent lingering in the hallway, the way he cursed softly while staring at the rain. It was too much.

He had learned to live without Build, but now he remembered what living with him felt like. Warmth. Laughter. Companionship. Love.

And yet... he wasn't sure if Build still felt the same.

After all, Build was the one who left. And Bible was the one who let him go.

Bible quietly stepped out of his home office. His eyes landed on Build, curled up on the couch, fast asleep. He looked tired. His brows slightly furrowed, lips parted like he was still restless even in sleep. Bible stared for a moment longer than he should. It had been so long since he had seen Build like this close, yet still feeling so far away.

He sighed and turned toward the kitchen. It was almost lunch. Maybe if they sat down, if they ate together, they could finally talk. Not just about the weather or the food. Not just polite nods or strained greetings. Really talk.

Bible opened the fridge and pulled out ingredients for pasta. Something simple. Something comforting. He worked in silence—boiling water, sautéing garlic, mixing in the sauce. It wasn't long before the smell filled the condo, warm and rich.

As he finished plating the pasta onto two plates and placing them on the table, he heard the rustle of blankets. Build had woken up.

Build blinked groggily, sitting up. The scent of pasta immediately reached him, but he didn't move. He looked at his phone. It was already lunchtime. Outside, the rain still drizzled endlessly, tapping softly on the glass.

"You're awake," Bible said calmly. "Come eat."

Build shifted, hesitating. "I'm not really hungry."

Bible let out a quiet sigh, not angry, just tired. "You don't have to be. Just eat with me. Then we talk."

Build looked at him for a second, unsure. Then he got up and followed. He sat across the table from Bible. Neither of them spoke. The only sound was the clinking of utensils, the rain, and the soft hum of the refrigerator. Build's stomach was unsettled—not from hunger, but from nerves. His mind was racing.

What does Bible want to say? Is he going to ask him to leave? Apologize? Or worse... ask for nothing at all?

He peeked up at Bible. His face was blank, unreadable as always. He hated how hard it was to tell what Bible was thinking. Always so composed. Always so guarded.

They finished eating quietly. Build leaned back in his chair while Bible stood up and took their plates to the sink. The silence between them wasn't angry anymore—it was heavy, dense with things unsaid.

Bible turned to him. "Wait for me on the couch. I'll be there in a second."

Build obeyed.

Once the dishes were done, Bible joined him. He sat on the other side of the couch, keeping some space between them.

"I know this is late," Bible started, voice low, "but I owe you this. Our breakup... it was quiet, but it was a mess. I think we both deserve to understand what really happened."

He glanced sideways at Build. "Do you want to go first? Or should I?"

Build swallowed hard. "You're sure we're doing this now?"

Bible nodded. "We've got nowhere to go. Roads are flooded, and we're stuck in this storm. Might as well talk about this."

Build hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I'll go first."

He breathed in.

"It started when you got busier," he said. "You were always working. You missed our dinner dates. Our dates. Not even spending time at home. You'd come home tired, distracted. I tried to understand at first, really. I told myself it's just a phase, that you're doing this for us."

He looked down at his hands.

"But days turned to weeks. Then months. I stopped asking for time. I stopped waiting. It felt like I was the only one holding on."

His voice cracked.

"I felt alone, even when you were right there. I'd cook dinner, and you'd fall asleep on the couch before we even ate. I'd buy tickets to a concert, and you'd cancel last minute. I'd talk, and you'd say, 'Sorry, can we talk later? I have a meeting in the morning.' I just... got tired."

His eyes brimmed with tears, but he blinked them back.

"And when I broke up with you, I was hoping you'd stop me, that you'd say something. That you'd fight. But you just... let me go."

He took a shaky breath.

"I thought maybe you didn't love me anymore."

Bible stood up briefly and returned with a box of tissues, placing it gently on the table in front of him.

Build took one and wiped his eyes, quiet now.

"Thank you," he muttered.

Bible sat down again, exhaling deeply. "Thank you... for telling me that."

He paused.

"I'm sorry," he said, voice tight. "I'm sorry for hurting you. That was never my intention."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together.

"I worked hard because I wanted to build a future for us. I wanted to give you everything. A better home. A better life. I thought if I worked hard enough, we'd never have to worry about anything. But in doing that... I stopped showing up. I thought I was showing love by building our future. But I forgot to be present." He looked at Build now. "And when you said you were done... I let you go because I thought you were already gone. I thought I failed you so badly that nothing I said could change your mind. I was a coward."

Bible shook his head slowly. "I didn't say goodbye because I didn't know how to. You were always in my plans. And suddenly... you weren't." His voice cracked, the first real crack in his composure.

"I didn't move on easily like you might think. I tried to start again, but it wasn't easy. You might think I was fine, but I wasn't. I was drowning too, just... silently." he paused, "I'm not asking you to forgive me. That's too much. I just want you to know I'm sorry. And that you never deserved to feel like you were second. You never were."

He glanced up again.

"The painting... You can take it. Or burn it. Or keep it. It's yours. Let's say that you taking it is our step for moving forward after all of these."

Build was crying, but he refused to go full-on sobbing. Bible was busy because he wanted a better future for them, but in exchange, he had no time for their relationship, and he regrets it. Build wiped the tears away and looked at Bible.

"Thank you for letting me know your side. I'm sorry if I became too demanding."

Bible hesitated—then moved closer, gently placing a hand over Build's. "No, it wasn't your fault. It was mine. I'm sorry, Build," he whispered. "I'm really sorry."

Build forced a smile, but the tears wouldn't stop falling. He didn't know how to feel. Was it relief that everything had been a simple misunderstanding, or fear that this conversation would be their last, and he and Bible would quietly fade from each other's lives?

Bible took a risk and pulled Build closer. He just held him, arms wrapped tightly around him like he never wanted to let go. He buried his face in Build's hair, his own tears falling in silence.

The quiet between them was both calming and terrifying. In each other's arms, they found a fragile peace, like the eye of a storm. But beneath that stillness lingered a shared fear: What comes next? Neither of them knew if this was a new beginning or a slow, inevitable goodbye.

A few moments later, when Build stopped crying, Bible loosened his arms around him but didn't pull away just yet. He looked at Build carefully, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

"You okay now?"

Build took a deep breath, wiping his eyes one last time. "Yeah... I'm fine."

Bible gave him a little space and leaned back against the couch, eyes still on him like he wasn't entirely convinced. But Build gave him a nod, not exactly a smile, but something close.

Then, almost instinctively, Build glanced toward the closed door of Bible's home office. "You probably have work," he said, trying to sit up straighter. "It's fine. You can go back. I'll just be here."

Bible shook his head. "There's nothing for now. Some of my team members are affected by the storm and flood. We're all on hold until everything clears up." He paused, eyes flicking to the window where the rain still battered the glass. "No work for today."

Build nodded slowly.

"You need anything?" Bible asked. "Water?"

Build was about to say no when he checked his phone and sighed. "Actually... I need a charger. My phone battery is almost drained."

Bible stood up without a word and disappeared into his home office. A moment later, he returned with a white charger and handed it to Build, pointing toward the outlet near the TV. "You can plug it there. That one works."

"Thanks," Build mumbled, walking over and setting his phone to charge. He stood there for a few seconds, staring blankly at the rain before turning back to the couch.

They sat in silence again, neither of them really sure what to say next. The air wasn't heavy anymore, but it wasn't light either. Just quiet.

After a while, Bible shifted. "You wanna watch something?" he asked, not looking at Build directly. "We can stream. Might help pass the time."

Build lifted a shoulder, barely a shrug. "I'm fine with anything."

"Action?" Bible asked, glancing at him, and for the first time, there was a hint of something like teasing in his voice—light, but careful.

Build nodded faintly. "Yeah."

So, Bible picked an action movie. Something loud and explosive, something that didn't require too much emotional investment. He played it from his account and settled back into the couch. Build did the same, keeping to the opposite end, legs tucked beneath him as the sound of the film filled the room.

They didn't speak, but the silence felt a little easier now. Not healed, but cracked open just enough for something softer to slip in.

The movie was enjoyable, just as expected. Their laughter had blended naturally with the occasional comments and reactions during the action scenes. It felt like old times—easy, warm, familiar.

When the credits rolled, Build sat back and stretched his legs a bit. "Another one?" he asked, glancing at Bible.

Bible gave him a small smile. "Sure. I'll grab drinks and snacks."

Bible stood and walked toward the kitchen, the dim lights casting shadows on the walls. Build watched him move around, pulling out sodas and a bag of chips, then another one.

"You're well-stocked for someone who lives alone," Build teased.

Bible opened a soda and handed one to him. "Got used to buying a lot. Old habits. It's a good thing though. Now that we're stuck here, we won't starve."

Build gave a short nod. "Yeah... lucky."

Bible set everything on the coffee table and plopped back down on the sofa. "You pick the next one."

Build scrolled through the options before choosing a suspense thriller. Bible raised a brow. "Sure about that?"

"Yeah," Build said with a grin. "I'm not scared."

Bible chuckled and leaned back into the couch, grabbing a chip. "Alright."

As the movie progressed, the tension on screen grew. Thunder rumbled outside, soft but steady, like a constant reminder of the storm that wouldn't let them go yet.

Without realizing it, Build inched closer to Bible—just a little, then a little more. By the time the music on screen got eerily quiet, he was sitting right next to him.

Bible noticed, but didn't say anything. He just stayed still, eyes on the screen, senses quietly alert.

Then, a sudden jumpscare exploded on the TV, making Build flinch hard. His hand immediately flew to grab Bible's arm.

Bible didn't move. He didn't even breathe too loud. He just... let him.

Build didn't even notice what he was doing at first. His eyes stayed glued to the screen, tension still high.

Another startling moment. Build jolted slightly, gripping Bible's arm tighter.

This time, Bible moved just a little. He gently patted Build's hand, as if to calm him.

And that's when Build realized what he was doing.

He blinked, embarrassed, and started pulling his hand back. "Sorry—"

But before he could fully let go, Bible reached out and gently took his hand instead. He didn't say anything. He just entwined their fingers together. Naturally. As if time hadn't passed. As if heartbreak hadn't happened.

Build stared at their hands, then at Bible's face.

Bible wasn't looking at him. He was still watching the movie, his expression calm. Like it was the most normal thing in the world.

So Build didn't say anything either.

He just... stayed there. Fingers locked with Bible's. His heart was quietly pounding.

By the time the movie ended, it was already dark outside. The wind had picked up again, but the rain had calmed to a soft drizzle. The air inside the condo felt warmer than it had all day.

Bible slowly let go of Build's hand and stood up. "I'll cook dinner."

"I can help," Build offered, standing up too.

Bible looked back at him, a small, teasing smile on his lips. "You cook now?"

"I can fry things." Build shrugs.

Bible laughed under his breath. "I'll handle it. Just something quick."

"All right," Build said softly and walked over to where he had left his phone charging. He unplugged it and checked the news.

The forecast said the storm might end by morning. The roads might clear up tomorrow.

Relief washed over him—but so did something else. Something heavier. Uneasy.

Because if the storm ends... then so does this. This moment. This pause between the heartbreak and goodbye.

He sat quietly on the couch again, the hum of the stove faint in the background.

They already said the things that needed to be said. They already cleared the air.

But the silence left behind felt too hollow now.

Could he really move forward once he walked out of Bible's door?

Dinner passed in silence, the clinking of utensils against ceramic and the low hum of the air conditioner the only sounds between them. The storm outside had dulled into a steady, constant rhythm, like a ticking clock neither of them wanted to acknowledge.

When they finished eating, Build stood up and quietly gathered the plates. "I'll wash these," he offered, barely meeting Bible's eyes.

Bible nodded, watching him disappear into the kitchen.

Moments later, just as Build turned on the faucet, everything went dark.

The sudden loss of light was jarring, followed quickly by the silence of a dead aircon, fridge, and kitchen light. Almost instinctively, both men grabbed their phones and switched on their flashlights. The weak beams sliced through the darkness.

"What happened?" Build called out.

"I'm not sure," Bible replied. "Wait here, I'll get the emergency light."

Build tried the faucet again. Nothing. No water. A sigh escaped his lips as he leaned against the counter, the dim flashlight in his hand casting shifting shadows across the wall.

Bible returned a moment later, carrying a rechargeable camping light and a flashlight. He placed the camping light on the dining table and turned it on. The soft yellow glow gave the space a calm, moody ambiance: warm, yet melancholic.

His phone buzzed. Bible glanced at the message, his expression tightening. "It's from the property management office," he said. "City-wide power interruption. And the building generator won't start. They're asking for one to two hours to fix it."

Build exhaled slowly. "That's fine... as long as they fix it eventually."

"We should open a window for air circulation," Bible suggested.

"Yeah, okay."

Bible opened one in the living room just slightly, letting in the faint scent of rain-drenched concrete. He did the same in the bedroom before returning. Build tried the faucet again with no success.

"There's no water, either," he muttered.

"Leave it," Bible said gently. "Just sit down."

Bible took the seat at the dining table while Build sank into the couch, scrolling on his phone. The only sound between them was the soft patter of rain and the distant rumble of thunder, now softer than before. The storm was moving on, but its weight lingered.

To break the silence, Build tapped on his phone and played some music—soft K-pop songs that filled the room with a nostalgic melody. Bible's ears perked up at the familiar tune. Build glanced sideways, noticing Bible bobbing his head slightly, a small smile ghosting his lips.

A gentle warmth settled between them.

The third song shifted to a more emotional ballad—a girl group track that started with soft acoustic guitar.

Bible froze.

He remembered this song. The same one they used to play on quiet nights, wrapped in each other's arms on this very couch. He'd sung the only English phrase in the chorus part to Build, whispering the words into his hair while they cuddled.

Stay with me.

He turned his head. Build was staring at the dark window, his phone resting on his lap. He looked far away, like he was somewhere between the past and now.

Bible swallowed hard. The truth was bitter in his mouth: once the storm was over, so was this. Like last time. Like that year without him. He looked away. "What's your plan once the roads clear?" he asked, keeping his voice neutral.

Build turned to him slowly. "I'll go home. Check my place. Pick up Ginger. Buy groceries. Rest." He shrugged. "Why?"

"Just asking."

Build narrowed his eyes slightly, cautious. "Am I invading your space too much?"

Bible blinked. "No, I didn't mean—"

"I didn't want to be here, okay?" Build snapped, his voice sharper than he meant. "I wish I could've had someone else deliver your things. But I didn't think it would hurt to just... drop them off."

Silence fell like a weight.

Build's chest rose and fell unevenly. He looked down, ashamed. "You don't have to worry. Once the roads are clear, I'll be out of your life for good." he muttered.

Bible flinched. The words hit harder than they should've. He looked away, chewing the inside of his cheek.

Build regretted it instantly. That wasn't what he wanted, not really. But he felt so out of place, so unsure.

Neither of them said anything.

Then, softly, like he was afraid the words might shatter something, Bible whispered, "I wish it never stopped raining."

Build turned his head. "What?"

And just then, the electricity returned with a faint buzz. The lights flickered on, the fridge hummed again, and the aircon clicked back to life.

Bible looked at Build, his voice steady, but his eyes full of vulnerability. "I want you to stay... and I want you back."

Build blinked. His heartbeat stuttered. Was he dreaming?

Bible stood and walked slowly toward him, sitting beside him on the couch. He gently reached for Build's hands, holding them between his.

"I still love you," Bible said. "And if I let you walk out that door again without trying to win you back, I'll regret it forever. Just like I regretted walking out of yours without saying goodbye that night."

Build's throat tightened. "I don't know what to say," he admitted. "How do I know you won't hurt me again? That I won't feel alone anymore?"

"Because I can't do this without you," Bible said, voice cracking, tears falling from his eyes. "I thought I could. I buried myself in work, convinced I was fine. But I wasn't. I missed you every single day, Biu. I just didn't want to admit it."

He squeezed Build's hands tighter. "Please... give me one more chance to build something real with you. I'll spend every day proving you made the right choice."

Tears welled up in Build's eyes. They stared at each other, the moment stretching between them: raw and fragile.

And then, quietly, brokenly, Build whispered, "Okay."

Bible's eyes widened. "What?"

"I'll take you back." His voice cracked. "Because I still love you, too. And I'm scared that if I walk out that door again... I'll never see you again."

Bible let out a shaky breath and pulled him into a hug, holding him tight. "Thank you. Oh thank God! Thank you, Build."

Build clung to him, trembling. "Just... don't break your promise."

"I won't," Bible said, his lips brushing against Build's shoulder. "I swear I won't."

They pulled back slightly, eyes meeting. And in that shared gaze, they leaned in and kissed. The kiss lingered. Slow, deep, and tender, as if trying to make up for all the moments they lost in the past year. When they finally pulled away, they were breathless but smiling, and the room felt warmer. The steady hum of the air conditioner lingers, mixing with the faint sound of rain tapping against the windows. The soft lights above bathed the space in a calming glow, no longer cloaked in stormy darkness.

Bible rested his forehead against Build's, hands still gently cupping his face. A soft chuckle escaped him.

"I didn't think it would end up like this," Bible murmured. "When you showed up... I thought you'd just hand me the box and leave."

Build laughed softly, his fingers playing with the collar of Bible's shirt. "Good thing I delivered it myself then," he said, eyes crinkling. "Otherwise, we will deal with this storm alone."

Bible grinned, but before he could reply, Build's hand slid down to his arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"Are you working out?" Build asked, a little surprised.

"Yeah. Every other day," Bible replied, suddenly a bit shy under Build's curious touch.

Build smiled, his eyes softening. "It suits you."

Bible couldn't take his eyes off him. Even with traces of tears still on his cheeks, Build looked breathtaking—soft, vulnerable, and impossibly beautiful. Unable to resist, Bible leaned in and captured his lips once more. Their lips met again, this time with more heat. The kiss deepened, mouths moving slowly yet with rising urgency. Bible's hands wandered to Build's back, drawing small circles against the fabric of his shirt, while Build's arms wound around Bible's shoulders, pulling him closer.

They shifted on the couch, their bodies leaning into each other as if magnetized. Bible carefully laid Build down, the sofa dipping beneath their combined weight. He hovered above, one arm propped beside Build's head, his other hand stroking Build's cheek with feather-light touches. Their breathing grew shallow, but their eyes never left each other.

"I love you," Bible whispered, voice low and steady.

Build's heart thudded in his chest. His lips curved into a soft smile, eyes glistening.

"I love you too," he replied, no hesitation this time.

Bible kissed him again. Once, twice, then a dozen more times. Quick pecks turned into a trail of kisses across Build's jaw and down to the curve of his neck. Build giggled softly, the warmth of Bible's affection bubbling in his chest like joy spilling over.

"Stop, that tickles," Build said with a laugh, fingers curling into Bible's shirt.

Bible chuckled against his skin, then lifted his head, just gazing down at him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, brushing aside a few strands of hair from Build's forehead. "Come to bed with me tonight?"

Build's smile faltered, replaced by a light flush on his cheeks. "Why?" he asked, heart speeding up.

Bible saw the slight tension in his shoulders and leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips; soft, reassuring.

"Just to sleep," Bible said. "I promise. We just got back together, and I know I need to prove myself first. Besides..." He gave a dramatic shrug. "I don't even have condoms or lube at home."

Build smacked his arm, laughing. "You're so crass."

"I just want to make sure you know I won't pressure you," Bible said sincerely. "But, if you do want to..." He raised an eyebrow playfully.

"Stop playing around," Build said with a grin, pinching Bible's nose.

Bible chuckled, catching his lips in another sweet kiss.

"The sofa's not that comfy anyway," Build added, sitting up a little. "I'll sleep in your bed."

"Okay," Bible said, brushing his knuckles against Build's cheek. "Wanna take a shower first?"

Build nodded. "Yeah."

Bible pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing up. He offered his hand and helped Build to his feet.

"Go ahead. I'll clean up here," he said.

Build gave him a thankful look, grabbed his towel, and headed toward the bathroom.

Bible watched him disappear down the hallway, a deep breath escaping his lips. His heart felt lighter than it had in a long time. With a smile tugging at the corner of his lips, he turned back to the kitchen and began cleaning up the mess they'd made—dishes still damp in the sink, bits of rice on the table, and a heart finally whole again.

An hour later, Bible quietly entered his bedroom, now dressed in his black pajamas. The room was softly lit by the hallway light spilling in through the open door. He spotted Build standing awkwardly beside the bed, already in his blue pajamas, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

Bible chuckled lightly, closing the door behind him. "What are you doing just standing there?"

Build glanced at him, sheepish. "I was waiting for you."

Bible's smile softened. He walked over, turned on the night lamp on the bedside table, then flicked off the main light. The room dimmed into a cozy amber glow. "You can get on the bed, you know. It won't bite."

Build gave a small laugh and climbed onto the bed. Bible followed, pulling the comforter over both of them as they lay down facing each other.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Their breathing slowed in sync. Then Bible reached out and gently pulled Build closer, holding him.

"Are you going to change your mind tomorrow?" Build asked in a whisper, his fingers curling lightly around Bible's arm.

"No," Bible said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Build's face. "And if you go home tomorrow, I'll visit you. Or you can come back here anytime. I'll tell the guard you're a regular visitor starting tomorrow."

Build chuckled, his eyes crinkling with a small smile. "You should meet Ginger."

"I will," Bible replied, smiling back. "I'll bring him some treats."

"Not too much. He's picky," Build teased.

They looked at each other for a long moment, the silence no longer heavy but full of warmth.

Build leaned in and kissed Bible's lips, tender and slow. "I love you," he murmured.

Bible kissed him back, holding his cheek. "I love you, too."

Their lips met again, this time longer, deeper, full of emotion that had been locked away for too long. When they finally pulled back, they remained in each other's arms, breathing softly, eyes closed.

Wrapped in the quiet of the room, they drifted off to sleep. Hearts mended. Finally at peace.

Epilogue

Six months later.

Build pulled up to the now familiar condominium. The security guard waved at him with a smile, no longer surprised to see him.

"Good afternoon, Khun Build," the guard greeted casually. 

"Good Afternoon, Khun Piya," Build replied, before entering the parking area. He headed to his own parking space right next to Bible's car. Bible availed the space for him, so he had a reserved parking space.

With Ginger's carrier in one hand and a plastic bag of take-out food in the other, Build made his way to the elevator. Ginger let out a small meow, clearly excited. He rang the doorbell once. When it opens, Bible welcomes him with a smile. Build kisses Bible's cheek. He set the carrier down and unzipped it. Ginger bolted out with ease, skipping across the floor before leaping into the tall cat tower-house that now stood near the window, a sturdy structure Bible had spent a weekend building just for him.

Build smiled to himself. "He really likes it here."

Bible walked over, gave Build a quick peck on the cheek and place a hand on Build's waist, then looked over to Ginger, already curled up on the top perch like he owned the place.

"Your little prince loves his little castle," Bible teased.

"He likes his own space," Build replied with a grin, handing Bible the take-out bag. "Come on, I brought food."

They sat at the dining table, the soft midday light pouring through the windows. Bible plated the dishes while Build poured their drinks. It wasn't anything fancy, just their usual, but the ease and comfort between them made everything feel special.

Halfway through the meal, Bible glanced out the window, noticing the clouds starting to gather. "They said another strong storm is on its way. Might hit tomorrow or two."

Build looked up from his food and tilted his head. "Then maybe... you should stay at my place this time."

Bible raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure we're safe there?"

"Why not?" Build grinned. "It's located in an elevated area. Really flood-free. Plus, I have a bigger bed." Build winks.

Bible smirked, taking a sip of his drink. "We'll see."

After lunch, they moved to the living room. The atmosphere was warm and lazy, just how they liked it. The shared painting they once worked on together now hung proudly on the wall, and next to the sofa stood a small drawer with a framed photo of the two of them on their first official date after they got back together.

They nestled together on the couch, the soft murmur of the movie fading into the background. Build sat between Bible's thighs, his back resting comfortably against Bible's chest, as if he belonged there—because he did. Bible's arms were wrapped gently around his waist, holding him close in a quiet embrace. Without warning, Bible pressed a tender kiss to Build's shoulder, making him smile. In return, Build turned slightly to place a sweet kiss on Bible's cheek, full of quiet affection.

The world outside faded away. The movie played on, but neither of them was watching. Their attention was solely on each other as their lips met again: slow, warm, and filled with love. Each kiss is a silent promise.

At the edge of the sofa, Ginger slept soundly, curled into a soft ball, purring like the background melody to their quiet happiness.

Their relationship now was far from perfect, but it was real, and it was theirs. They talked more, listened better. They had arguments over silly things: dirty dishes, tangled chargers, or who ate the last chocolate, but they never let the day end without making up. Always choosing each other, even when the sky was dark.

And maybe that was what mattered most.

After every storm, there was something worth holding on to.

And for Bible and Build, that something was each other.

They weren't just back together.

They were home.

The End