A New Safe Space

Confronting the Past

It had been a few days since Akk's return to Bangkok, and the city's familiar rhythm seemed to mock him. The streets were the same, the people unchanged, but everything felt different to him. He had spent the first few days unpacking and adjusting to his new apartment, but the quiet only amplified his thoughts, leaving him with nothing but the echoes of his past mistakes.

Khan had visited him again, this time bringing Wat along. They'd had their usual dinner—a nostalgic gathering that should have been comforting, but Akk felt the tension beneath the surface. He could tell his friends were avoiding the one subject that truly weighed on his mind: Ayan. They talked about work, mutual friends, and life in general, but every mention of the past felt like walking on eggshells.

As the dinner dragged on, Akk's nerves began to fray. He couldn't stand it anymore. Setting down his drink, he leaned forward and asked, his voice quieter than he intended, "Where does Ayan live now? Can you give me his contact number?"

The shift in the atmosphere was immediate. Khan and Wat exchanged a glance, their discomfort clear. Wat cleared his throat, avoiding Akk's gaze.

"Look, Akk," Khan began, carefully choosing his words. "It's... complicated."

Akk could see the disapproval in their eyes, though they didn't say it outright. They weren't judging him, not openly. But they didn't have to. He already knew what they were thinking. Ayan had become close to them over the years, and they had seen firsthand how Akk's abrupt departure had shattered him. Akk didn't need their condemnation—he had enough guilt of his own to deal with and no one had seen him when he was trying to piece himself back together after the break-up.

"We'll talk to Ayan first," Wat added gently. "See if he's okay with us giving you his contact information."

Akk nodded, biting back the disappointment. He understood their hesitation, even respected it. He had hurt Ayan, deeply, and he had no right to expect immediate forgiveness or access to his life again. But the silence was killing him. Like most of the tests in his 27 years of life, he has to endure this one, now alone without Ayan to help him through it.

One of the first events his new company had sponsored was an art exhibition, held for a graduating student at one of the most prestigious art universities in Bangkok. Akk hadn't wanted to attend at first—he wasn't in the mood for public events—but it was a requirement. So, he found himself wandering through the exhibit, nodding politely at the artwork while his mind remained elsewhere.

That was until one painting stopped him in his tracks.

It was a vibrant, stunning piece—bright colors, bold strokes, and a familiar face staring back at him. The crescent eyes, the infectious smile... Ayan. Akk's breath caught in his throat as he stared at the painting. His heart raced with confusion. Why was Ayan's face on the wall of this exhibition? He glanced at the artist's signature in the corner: Yok.

And then it clicked. Yok. The artist was the new man in Ayan's life.

Akk's chest tightened as the realization settled in. He wanted to run, to leave before the weight of seeing Ayan in someone else's world crushed him. But he also couldn't tear himself away. He told himself that just a quick glimpse of Ayan, just one look, wouldn't hurt.

He walked through the gallery, rounding a corner, and there he was—Ayan.

Ayan glowed with an energy Akk hadn't seen in years, his laughter filling the space as he animatedly talked with a group of people. And beside him, standing tall, was the man Akk knew had to be Yok. The artist was striking, all rugged edges and tattoos, a stark contrast to Akk's polished appearance. Where Akk wore a neat polo shirt and khakis, Yok stood confidently in a muscle tank and ripped jeans, his arms covered in ink. There was something about his presence that irritated Akk, though he couldn't explain why.

But what stung the most wasn't the difference in appearance—it was the way Ayan looked so... alive. Vibrant. The Ayan Akk had known had been quiet, and reserved, but still strong. This Ayan, however, seemed lighter, more open, as if some invisible weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It made Akk feel like a stranger watching from the outside, looking in on a life that had moved on without him.

Ayan's eyes finally landed on him, and Akk instinctively straightened his posture, swallowing the nervous lump in his throat. He forced himself to walk over, his heart pounding with every step.

"Akk," Ayan said softly, surprise flickering across his face as he greeted him. The warmth in his eyes was distant, cautious.

Before Akk could respond, Yok's gaze sharpened, the possessiveness clear in his expression. There was no mistaking the protective stance he took beside Ayan, and Akk couldn't help but notice the subtle tension between them. Yok knew who he was—maybe Ayan had told him about their past. Akk could feel the weight of the rivalry between them, but even more than that, he felt the sting of knowing that he had given up his place in Ayan's life.

Akk extended a hand to Yok, determined to be civil. The handshake was firm, almost a challenge, and Akk quickly realized that this man wasn't just some temporary fling. Yok wasn't going to make it easy for him to step back into Ayan's life. His eyes were steady, filled with quiet strength, and Akk knew that he wasn't dealing with someone who would be easily intimidated.

After a short, awkward conversation, Ayan and Yok excused themselves, and despite himself, Akk stayed behind, his eyes following them around the gallery. The more he watched them, the deeper the ache in his chest grew.

He couldn't help but notice how gentle Ayan seemed with Yok, how the dynamic between them was different from what Akk had known. Ayan had been his pillar of strength, always the one to hold them both up when things got tough. But now... now it was Ayan who was being protected, and cared for. And it was Yok who stood by his side.

It wasn't until they had disappeared from sight that Akk finally dragged himself out of the gallery. His heart felt heavier than it had in months, and as he walked to his car, the emotions he had been holding back finally overwhelmed him. He slid into the driver's seat of his company-issued Honda, gripping the steering wheel tightly as tears spilled down his face.

He pulled over in a deserted parking lot, unable to contain the sobs that racked his body. For the millionth time, he wished he could turn back time, go back to the moment before he had made the decision to leave Ayan. But it was too late now.

All he could do was face the consequences of his choices and try to find a way to live with the regret that had become his constant companion.