PERFECT (F4 THAILAND)

bonding (17)

Her hair clung damp against her cheek, stray droplets sliding down the curve of her jaw as she hugged her knees tighter. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioner stirring the heavy air.

She barely lifted her eyes when the door creaked open. Ray slipped in, closing it gently behind him.

He didn't say anything at first, just leaned back against the door, studying her with an unreadable expression.

"You want to tell me what the hell happened down there?" he asked softly.

She pressed her lips together, knuckles whitening where they clutched her own arms. "I don't...I don't want to talk about it," she whispered.

Ray sighed, running a hand through his hair. He pushed away from the door, moving to the edge of her bed.

For a long moment, he just watched her, his brow furrowed, his mouth set in a tight line.

Then, without a word, he sat beside her. His shoulder brushed hers, warm and solid. She didn't pull away.

"You scared the shit out of me, Rose," he murmured. "I thought you were gonna rip him apart."

She let out a breath that sounded half like a sob, half like a laugh. "Maybe I was," she said hoarsely.

"You don't have to fight with everyone you know," he said, his voice low, gentle, but firm. "I'm right here, ok?"

She rested her chin on her knees, eyes squeezed shut. "I hate him, Ray. I hate him so much."

Ray draped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. "I know," he murmured against her hair. "And maybe someday you'll stop. But until then... you have to handle it. ok?"

She didn't answer, just let the tears spill quietly, her shoulders shaking as he held her tighter. Downstairs, the muffled voices of the others drifted up, distant and irrelevant.

A soft knock broke the silence. Rose didn't move, didn't seem to hear it. Ray sighed, standing, moving toward the door. He opened it just a crack, enough to see the staff member holding the tray he'd asked for. The young woman's eyes flicked nervously toward Rose, then darted away.

"Thanks," Ray said curtly, taking the tray. He shut the door with a quiet click, blocking out the curious eyes, the whispers already starting to circle like vultures.

He carried the tray over, sitting in front of Rose and setting it on the low table. The soft clink of ceramic broke the heavy quiet.

"Eat something," he said, voice low but steady. "You won't heal on an empty stomach."

She glanced at the tray, her brows pulling together, her lips twisting. "I'm not hungry," she murmured.

"You know staying mad won't make your hunger disappear," he muttered, pushing the tray closer. "Don't make me spoon-feed you like a kid, Rose."

She scowled at him, a flicker of fire still burning in her eyes, but she reached for the spoon anyway. The utensil scraped lightly against the rice, but she didn't lift it to her mouth, just stirred it around, picking at grains.

Ray let out a frustrated breath, running a hand over his face. "God, you're impossible," he grumbled. He snatched the bowl gently from her hands, scooping up a small portion. He held it out to her mouth, eyes narrowing in warning. "Eat, or I'll shove it in there myself."

She glared at him, then huffed, leaning forward just enough to take the bite. He watched, making sure she swallowed before scooping another.

"Good girl," he teased softly, a ghost of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

She swallowed again, glaring half-heartedly. "Shut up," she whispered, her voice cracking, but there was no heat in it.

"Make me," he whispered back, feeding her another spoonful. "Eat first, kick my ass later."

She managed a small, wet laugh, tears still streaking her cheeks, but her shoulders seemed to loosen, the tension easing from her spine.

"There you go," he murmured. "Little by little. That's how you fight back, Rose. Not by tearing the world apart."

She didn't answer, but she opened her mouth for another bite, and another, until the bowl was nearly empty.

When he finally set it down, Ray brushed her damp hair away from her face, thumb lingering at the corner of her eye to catch the tear trailing there. "You're stronger than you think," he murmured.

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She lay back slowly, the weight of the world pressing down on her chest, eyes fixed on the cracked ceiling above.

Ray moved without a word, he turned off the lights. sliding beside her on the bed, the mattress dipping gently under his presence. His hand found its way to her hair, fingers weaving softly through the damp strands, just like old times.

He brushed the damp locks away from her face, tender and careful, as if afraid to break something fragile he had just rediscovered. The scent of rain mixed with the faint musk of her skin pulled memories from deep inside him-those quiet nights long ago when she would slip into his room, seeking refuge from a world that seemed too loud and too cold.

Back then, their parents were ghosts in the house, always busy, always distant. Rose had been left to wander through empty rooms, the silence swallowing her whole. He remembered how He had sung lullabies to her then-soft, scratchy tunes, his voice cracking under the weight of his own awkwardness, but full of a promise to protect her from the dark. She had clung to him, small hands clutching his shirt, eyes wide with the fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, he would be enough to keep the nightmares away.

In this quiet space between them, the echoes of their childhood comforted them both, a silent balm for wounds unseen.

"Remember when you used to come in my room at night, scared of the shadows?" Ray's voice was low, barely above a whisper.

She nodded slightly, not trusting her voice.

"You'd make me sing until you fell asleep," he said, a ghost of a smile curling his lips. "And you braided my hair like you were trying to fix me."

A small, shaky laugh slipped from her lips. "I was trying to make you pretty."

Ray's hand paused, fingers tightening just a bit around the strands he held. "You always were."

A/N: happy reading. 💖💖✨