NO SAFE DISTANCE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN __ NIGHT TIME SILENCE

The city had quieted down, the constant hum replaced by distant traffic and occasional laughter drifting from alleyways below. Kian sat on the edge of his bed, hands resting on his knees, staring at the dim glow of his phone. No message from Aou yet. He's been expecting for a while, he knew Aou would check up on him. But now he hasn't and he's worried, heart thumping at the idea of contact, of acknowledgment.

Hours earlier, their conversation about boundaries had left a lingering tension in the air. Kian’s chest still felt tight, a mixture of relief and anxiety swirling together. He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly, letting the cool air from the window brush across his skin.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence.

“คุณยังอยู่ไหม?”

"Khun yang yùu mái?"

“Are you there?”

Kian’s heart skipped. Aou stepped in quietly, coat over his arm, shoes carefully aligned at the entrance as always. His eyes scanned the room before settling on Kian, lingering just enough to unsettle and comfort him simultaneously.

“I thought you might need some quiet,” Aou said softly, moving to the chair near the bed. “Or… company.”

Kian nodded, words failing him. He didn’t trust his voice not to betray the swirl of emotions he felt. Gratitude, longing, curiosity, and something unnamed.

They didn’t speak for several minutes. Aou had unfinished work on his laptop. Kian focused on the quiet, the sound of Aou’s careful movements: the soft scrape of his chair, the faint rustle of his coat as he folded it over the back. It was comforting, yet his presence also made Kian hyper-aware of himself, of every heartbeat, every shallow inhale.

“คุณคิดอะไรอยู่?”

"Khun kít à-rai yùu?"

“What are you thinking?” Aou finally asked, voice low, deliberate.

Kian hesitated. “About… everything,” he admitted. “Boundaries. Control. How… confusing it all feels sometimes.”

Aou nodded, tapping his fingers lightly on the armrest. “Emotions are never simple. Especially when trauma lingers. But acknowledging them… is a start.”

Kian swallowed. “It’s hard to know if I can trust myself… or you.”

“Trust is gradual,” Aou replied. “And fragile. It must be handled carefully. Even between us.” “ Plus you don't need to trust me, I trust you and that's enough”

For a long moment, the only sounds were breathing and the distant city. Then, almost imperceptibly, Kian moved slightly closer, drawn by some force he couldn’t name. Aou didn’t step back. He remained still, watching Kian with that quiet intensity that always made him feel exposed, seen, and protected all at once.

The tension in the room shifted. Not urgent, not desperate. But charged. Kian’s heartbeat raced, not from fear, but from the closeness. He stretched his hands out for a hug and Aou didn't hesitate. He felt a shiver run down his spine, a longing tempered by the restraint he knew he must observe.

“I… I like being near you,” Kian whispered, almost inaudible.

Aou’s eyes softened, just slightly, his composure still intact. He knew this from the beginning but he thought it was all his fault for making him fall for him. He leaned forward, just enough for their hug to feel comforting. The touch was fleeting, barely perceptible, yet electric. Kian’s chest tightened more at the contact, and he caught himself inhaling sharply.

He felt the tiny pressure of Aou’s hand brushing his hand as he gestured toward the corner keyboard. “Play,” Aou suggested, almost in a whisper. “ I like hearing your voice, or maybe when you sit there to play…… I like that too.” Aou said.

Kian hesitated, he sat down and then allowed his fingers to find the keys. Notes spilled into the quiet room, soft at first, and trembling, then steadier, His voice then followed, more deliberate. The music became a bridge between them, an unspoken acknowledgment of trust and presence. Each chord grounded him, each melody whispered reassurance he couldn’t yet say aloud.

For a heartbeat, they remained like that, sitting close, aware of each other’s presence, breathing synchronized without a word spoken. Aou’s hand hovered near Kian’s arm, a gesture of comfort rather than possession, and Kian allowed himself to rest his fingers lightly against Aou’s, feeling warmth radiate through the brief contact.

It was small. It was tentative. But it was intimacy, a quiet acknowledgment that they could be near, safe, and seen together.

As Aou quietly gathered his things to leave, Kian lingered on the keys, improvising softly, the sound weaving around the tension in his chest, around the unspoken connection they shared. Music, he realized, could be both solace and expression.

“I think I've fallen in love …..with music,” Kian said.

He's been playing a lot these days and also listening to different genres. That could be a vessel for what words could not hold.

Aou got a message, it was from his colleague.

“Something urgent came up at work,” “I have to go now”

“Oh, okay,” Kian replied.

“Will you be okay on your own?” Aou asked

“Uuuumm, yeah.” Kian said hesitantly.

“ Okay then, Take care and don't forget to call me if you need anything”. Aou added. He moved closer and gave him a hug and then a kiss.

Kian was Left in Awe, for some minutes his soul left his body.

When the door closed behind Aou, Kian exhaled, leaning back against the bed, letting the music linger in the room like a protective, invisible thread. He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling it beat with new understanding: closeness didn’t always mean possession, boundaries didn’t always mean distance, and desire didn’t always have to be urgent to be felt.

He whispered to the empty room:

“Safe. Heard. And… I am still me, even when near him.”