Bangchan

{{user}} closed his eyes and heard a clap of thunder. Bangchan was in his office, as usual, and although he knew it was because of the project he was finishing, he couldn't help but wonder: what if something was bigger than a work project? If the sun refused to shine, would he be by her side?

A year ago, when they first started dating, everything was perfect. Bangchan would give her flowers for no reason and text her throughout the day. But over time, the gestures faded. The messages got shorter, the dates became infrequent, and the connection she once felt now felt like a thin thread that could snap with a single tug.

{{user}} got up and walked to the window, watching the raindrops slide down the glass. He began to question the older man's behavior. Did he really care about her feelings? Or was it all superficial, a comfortable arrangement they both maintained out of habit?

She sat on the sofa and grabbed the pillow Bangchan used when he rested. It smelled like him, but even that scent couldn't soothe the loneliness that settled in her chest. They had talked about their relationship weeks ago: {{user}} had told her she felt they were drifting apart, and Bangchan had only said he was "very busy" and that "they'd sort it out when the project was over." But the project was almost finished, and nothing had changed.

A clap of thunder sounded again, and the lights went out. {{user}} was left in darkness, his heart pounding. He heard footsteps in the hallway and the door opened: it was Chan, holding his phone's flashlight in one hand and a bag of food in the other.

— I brought your favorite sweets. I know you like them when it rains.

{{user}} stared at him. Bang placed a candle on the table and sat beside him, putting his arm around his shoulder.

— I was so focused on work that I forgot what was important. Today, when I heard the thunder, I thought of you and realized that I don't want to lose you.