The train hummed steadily beneath us, the rhythm almost hypnotic. Outside, the world blurred into streaks of green and gold — fields, small towns, and the occasional river glinting in the morning sun. I stared out the window, but my thoughts weren't on the passing scenery. They were on him.
Anurak sat across from me, quiet, his hands folded over the straps of his bag, eyes fixed somewhere between the horizon and the floor. He looked fragile, yet there was a strength in the way he carried himself — the kind that comes from surviving heartbreak, from facing grief and loss head-on. I wanted to tell him a thousand things at once, but the words didn't seem enough.
Sorren, curled up at our feet, let out a soft sigh, as if sensing the tension . I reached down and scratched behind his ears, feeling the little dog's warmth against my hand, a reminder of life continuing, of normalcy waiting for us.
"Kael…" Anurak's voice was soft, hesitant, breaking the silence. I looked at him. His eyes were a storm — grief, fear, and something else I couldn't name. "I… I've never been away from home like this. Not for so long. I don't… I don't know what to expect."
I gave him a small smile, reaching across the small table to take his hand. "It's okay. You're not alone. I'm here. Sorren's here. We'll make this place… feel like home together. Slowly."
He let out a small breath, nodding, but didn't speak again. I could feel the tremor in his fingers as he relaxed just slightly under my touch.
The journey felt endless, yet at the same time too short. Every passing mile was heavy with memory — with the mourning of his mother, with the emptiness he had carried for so long. And yet, every moment also carried hope, a fragile flicker that perhaps, for the first time, he wouldn't face it alone.
---
When we finally arrived at my apartment in Bangkok, the city greeted us with its usual chaos — honking horns, street vendors calling out, people rushing past in their own little worlds. I led Anurak through the streets, his hand gripping mine tightly, and for a brief moment, I wondered if he would ever feel at home here.
We reached my building, and he stopped at the entrance, looking up at the tall structure. "This… is where you live?" His voice was quiet, almost awed.
"Yes," I said, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. "And now it'll be ours, at least for a while. I want you to feel safe here. Like… like this is your home too."
He nodded slowly, eyes scanning the lobby, the elevators, the hallways. I could see the cautious wonder in his gaze, the way he tried to absorb everything without letting the overwhelming newness take over.
As we entered the apartment, he paused in the doorway, taking a slow, deep breath. "It smells… like you," he murmured, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips.
I laughed softly. "That's the idea. You'll get used to it. And you'll leave your own mark too. I want this place to feel like both of us."
He wandered slowly through the rooms, touching the furniture, running his fingers along the edges of the shelves, lingering on the small details I hadn't even noticed. And every now and then, his eyes would glisten, a reminder that even amidst grief, wonder still existed.
Sorren going around, sniffing every corner, clearly happy to be back to his place. I watched Anurak as he watched Sorren, and I felt my chest tighten. There was a softness to him that few ever saw, a gentleness beneath the stoicism he wore like armor. And now… he was letting me see it.
---
After we had settled his things, I finally sat down beside him on the couch. He leaned against me, shoulders brushing, and I could feel the tension slowly ebbing away.
"You know," I said softly, "I've always wanted to show you this place. But I never imagined the first time would be… like this."
He didn't respond immediately, just rested his head lightly on my shoulder. Then, after a moment, he murmured, voice low and trembling, "I never thought… I could feel safe… anywhere. Not like this."
I hugged him closer, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "You are safe. And you're not alone. Not anymore. I'll never leave you alone again, Anurak. I promise."
His body shivered slightly against mine, and I could feel the tears he'd been holding back finally slipping free. I didn't pull away. I let him cry into me, whispering softly, letting the words fill the room:
> "It's okay… it's going to be alright… I'm here… I'm not leaving…"
Minutes passed like this, silence only broken by soft sobs and the gentle breathing of the three of us — me, him, and Sorren. And in that quiet, I realized something profound: for all the tragedy, all the heartbreak we had endured, this moment — simple, real, intimate — was enough.
Later, when he had calmed, he finally lifted his head and looked at me. "Kael…" his voice was small, hesitant, "I… I've never let anyone see me like that. Not completely.
I smiled, brushing a strand of hair from his face. "Then start with me. Let me see everything. Every fear, every memory, every joy… all of it."
His lips quirked into a small, tremulous smile. "I think… I'd like that. With you."
And there it was — the unspoken truth, the moment where two souls, battered and broken, finally began to rebuild.
---
We spent the evening exploring his new space, rearranging a few things, unpacking the remaining boxes. Anurak's laughter, quiet at first, began to ring more freely through the apartment. And when I asked him to sit at the piano, he hesitated, then smiled softly and pressed the keys. The song he played was gentle, filled with longing and memory, yet it resonated with the present, with the hope of new beginnings.
Sorren curled up at his feet, tail wagging, and I simply watched, feeling my heart swell. The music, the apartment, the soft glow of the evening light — it all felt like a new world, fragile yet promising.
Finally, as night fell, I pulled him close, forehead against mine. "Sleep will come easier here," I whispered. "I'll be right beside you."
His eyes glimmered in the soft lamplight. "I know," he murmured, and for the first time, I felt the weight of the past lift, replaced by the warmth of something real, something ours.
And as I held him, felt the rise and fall of his chest, I knew — no matter what storms awaited us, no matter what memories the past tried to drag back — we had found our anchor. In each other.
And that night, for the first time in forever, Anurak slept knowing he wasn't alone.