Chapter Text
The office was quiet in that sleepy, end-of-day kind of way. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting pale light over cubicles lined with post-it notes and untouched coffee mugs. Outside the windows, the Bangkok sky had turned a moody slate gray, rain tapping gently against the glass like fingers searching for a way in.
Tee sat at his desk, chin resting on his hand, eyes fixed on the blinking cursor of an empty email. His inbox was full, but none of it mattered—not the deadlines, not the client feedback, not even the passive-aggressive follow-up from his boss.
His thoughts were miles away. Back at his condo, Franc would already be home, probably with his headphones in, glued to his laptop. They hadn't touched in almost a month. Not in any real way.
Tee's fingers hovered over the keyboard. Then, impulsively, he clicked "Compose."
To: [email protected]
Subject: —
I don’t know your name or your face or anything, and I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe because it's raining again and I can't sleep, and I can’t say this out loud.
I’m in a relationship where I feel more alone than I did when I was single. We live together. But it’s like we’re strangers. Sometimes I want to scream just to see if he’d even look up.
Do you ever feel like your body is starving for something simple—like warmth or someone’s hand just resting on your back?
Maybe I sound dramatic. Maybe I just need to sleep.
– storm
He hesitated. Then hit Send .
He sent it to a stranger, on some random advice forum he'd found in a half-conscious doom scroll the night before. But the email auto-filled— [email protected] —and he didn’t realize it was a work contact.
Specifically. he don't know the person he is sending it to
But Tee didn’t know the person yet, maybe in the future.
He shut his laptop with a sigh and headed for the door. The rain had started to fall harder now—faster, like it was trying to make up for lost time.
Meanwhile...
Dew sat curled up on his sofa, warm tea in one hand, his phone in the other. Prim was in the shower, humming something Dew couldn’t quite make out. They hadn’t talked much all day.
His phone buzzed—a new email.
It wasn’t work-related.
His brows furrowed as he read the message. No name. Just an initial. A stranger, maybe. But the words were raw. Sad. Familiar.
His fingers hovered over the keys.
And slowly, softly, he began to type.