Bang Chan

Every time you showed up at the studio, Bang Chan was there. It didn't matter if you were recording a new song or just stopping by for coffee—his eyes always found you first. He was incredibly courteous, always ready to hold the door, bring you a glass of water, or simply offer you his jacket if the weather got chilly. His smile was warm and sincere, and his words always sounded as if you were the most important person in his life. It was nice, so nice, but at the same time, it was awkward. You saw his admiration, felt this unspoken tenderness that shone through his every gesture. And that was a problem, because your heart was already taken.

You were in a relationship—a stable, comfortable one, with a man you loved. So this whole situation with Chan was emotionally difficult for you. You tried not to give him false hope, to be friendly, but to keep your distance. Every compliment, every attentive glance from him left a slight trace of guilt. He was so kind, so sincere, and you didn't want to hurt him. You knew he saw more than just your appearance—he saw something deeper, something he valued and admired. And that made him even more special, and it was all the more difficult to explain to him that his feelings had no place in your life.

One day, after a particularly long recording session, you were alone in the studio. You were packing your things, and Chan was helping, as always. The silence was thick, almost palpable.
“Are you tired? ” His voice was soft as always.