Autumn is a second spring

133. Child

The makeup room was silent except for the faint hum of the fluorescent light. Most of the staff had already left, leaving behind traces of perfume, makeup powder, and the fading echo of laughter. Prem was the only one there, crouched by his dressing table, carefully placing the last few things into his bag.

He paused when the door opened with a soft creak.

Boun stepped in.

For a brief second, Prem froze, his breath catching as their eyes met in the mirror. But Boun looked away almost instantly, walking toward his own table. His movements were brisk, mechanical — as though packing required all his concentration.

Prem stared at him silently, his heart aching. The sight was painfully familiar — Boun sitting there, his head bent as he wiped off his makeup, the faint smell of his cologne still lingering in the air. How many times had they been in this exact same room, laughing after a concert? Boun teasing him about missing a step, or pulling him into a dark corner for a quick kiss before the Boston came looking.

But tonight... nothing.

Prem zipped his bag halfway but didn't move. His chest felt heavy. He wanted to speak, to break the silence, but words wouldn't come. He didn't even know where to start. Everything he wanted to say — sorry, I miss you, I still love you — felt too late, too small.

He watched Boun's reflection, saw how stiff his shoulders were. That tiny tremor in his hand as he folded a shirt didn't escape him. Boun was trying to hold it together too.

Boun, meanwhile, was forcing himself not to look at Prem. His heart felt like it was in his throat. Just being in the same room as Prem again made his chest tighten painfully. It was suffocating — wanting to touch someone who used to be his whole world but knowing he couldn't anymore.

He closed his eyes for a second, took a shaky breath, and focused on zipping his bag. He couldn't let himself slip again. Not after everything.

As he turned to grab his jacket, movement near the door caught his attention. A tiny figure peeked in — Bew.

Boun's eyes widened slightly. Bew stood quietly by the door, clutching a toy car, watching the room with his big brown eyes. He looked hesitant, as though afraid to interrupt.

Boun glanced back at Prem — thankfully, he hadn't noticed. Quickly, he stood and walked to the door, keeping his tone casual.

"Hey, Bew. What are you doing here, bud?"

Prem frowned as Boun suddenly left his seat, curiosity piqued. He followed a few steps quietly and then froze when he heard another familiar voice.

"His nanny dropped him off with me earlier," said Tessa — Boun's mother. Her voice was soft, warm, the kind that always made Prem feel small and guilty. "We had dinner plans tonight, but Bob just got a call from the law firm. I might have to skip it."

"That's fine, Maa," Boun replied gently. "We can have dinner another time."

"What about Bew then? Should I take him back with me?"

Boun hesitated for half a second before saying, "No, it's okay. Leave him with me. You will be busy anyway."

Tessa smiled, brushing Bew's hair fondly. "You have really grown up, Boun." She turned to leave. "Alright, I will see you tomorrow. Be good na, Bew."

"Bye, Nana," Bew chirped, waving.

Prem's heart clenched as he listened. When Tessa's footsteps faded, he peeked around the corner. Boun had crouched down and was wiping Bew's sweaty forehead with a tissue.