Nick packed his backpack in quiet, his movements mechanical, disconnected. He didn't count how many clothes he stuffed inside and didn't check if he had everything he needed. He just had to leave. Now
the apartment was choking him. Everywhere he turned, Arthur was there—not in person, but in the lingering shadows of what they once were. He kept seeing and remembering Arthur in everything he saw: the couch where they used to sit together, Arthur resting against his shoulder while they watched some silly show, the kitchen where Arthur would hum while making breakfast, always insisting on cooking for both of them, and the bed, which remained dishevelled from the final night they spent together before everything fell apart.
And now, knowing the truth, knowing that Arthur had never betrayed him, that he was the one who had ruined them, knowing he accused Arthur and didn't even give him the chance to explain when he begged, knowing Arthur approached him but he neglected him and instead told him to move on, Nick couldn't breathe.
He had failed Arthur, failed their love.
Nick could still hear Tyler's voice and could still feel the instant the ground under him fell. The treachery should have made him angry, should have made him want to punch Tyler, to shout, to demand why.
But all Nick could think about was Arthur.
Arthur asked him to believe him and desperately asked for a chance to explain.
Arthur, watching Nick turn his back on him.
And now it was too late.
Nick couldn't face him. He didn't deserve to face him.
So he did the only thing he knew how to do.
He ran.
The bus drove away from the station, the city receding in the distance. Nick sat beside the window, his fists grasping his knees, his mind a whirlwind of everything he had lost.
He had believed leaving Arthur would be the toughest thing he had ever done.
But now he knew the truth: leaving was easy.
Living with what he had done? That was terrible.
His chest ached the weight of his own acts crushing him.
Arthur had battled for them.
Nick had thrown it all away.
Nick placed his face against the cool glass of the window.
He had damaged them.
And Arthur? Arthur had suffered because of him.
The town where Nick got off the bus was modest, situated between rice fields and quiet roads. It was the kind of place where no one would ask questions, where he could vanish into the background and pretend, for a while, that he wasn't the biggest mistake Arthur had ever made.
He found a cheap guesthouse near the river. The room was small, nothing more than a bed and a rickety table, but it didn't matter. He wasn't here for comfort.
He was here to disappear.
Nick spent his days wandering. He took odd jobs, lifting containers at the market, repairing broken fences, anything to keep his body moving. He intended to exhaust himself, to be so fatigued by evening that he couldn't think.
But no matter how much he worked, no matter how far he walked, Arthur was always there.
In the sky at sunset, when the hues reminded him of the way Arthur used to sketch landscapes in the margins of his notebooks.
In the warmth of the early sun, he remembered waking up to Arthur nestled up to him, arms stretched over his waist.
In the lonely, interminable evenings, when remorse clutched at his throat, smothering him.
The guilt was persistent.
Nick had crushed Arthur's heart.
And now he had to live with it.
One evening, Nick sat by the river, watching the water ripple under the fading light.
His phone was in his grasp, heavy and silent.
He hadn't checked it in days. He was too much of a coward to see the signals, too terrified to read the rage, the disappointment, the quiet.
But tonight, he couldn't stop himself.
His fingers hovered over the screen.
He took a breath and unlocked it.
The first thing he saw was a message from Pim.
Pim: You don't get to just run away, Nick.
Another from Mai
Mai: Arthur's trying to move on. If you care about him at all, leave him for now. We have done enough damage.
Nick's stomach twisted.
He scanned through the missed calls. Pim, Ma, and his parents.
But not Arthur.
Not even once.
Of course not. Why would he?
Nick had injured him beyond repair.
His hands shook as he typed.
Nick: Is he okay?
Pim replied almost instantly.
Pim: You don't deserve to ask that.
Nick closed his eyes.
She was right.
But that didn't stop him from wanting to know.
Did Arthur dislike him? Had he moved on? Had he discovered someone who would genuinely believe in him?
Nick wanted to let go. He wanted to tell himself that if Arthur was happy, then he had no right to intervene.
But the reality was that Nick wasn't strong enough to let go.
Because even after everything, even after the worst mistake of his life…
He still loved Arthur. He is crazy about him and will never stop loving him.
And he always would.