Love of Silom

Chapter 15 - The Most Important Thing.

 

Even now, I still can't bring myself to believe what Krit said. He broke up with me, and it hurt like hell. No matter the reason—whether it made sense or was completely ridiculous— it still hurt. But the reason I couldn't accept it at all was that it clashed with everything I felt. I know people can fall out of love, but there should be some kind of warning, a sign that our relationship was falling apart. Not a sudden, clean cut-like sleeping peacefully and then waking up in shock to the sound of cats fighting, only to realise it was all just a dream.

 

'I won't be taking care of you anymore, Wayu. From now on, take care of yourself.'

 

Tell me, if he didn't care, why would he say something like that? I may not be the smartest person in the world. Sometimes, I do stupid things. But for this, let me be stupid another day. Maybe it looks like I'm being stubborn, chasing after someone who dumped me. Dumped me for real. Left me standing there like an idiot, running after his car like a lunatic. 

 

I'm devastated. I've never begged anyone like this before. But I refuse to let things stay so unclear. Krit owes me a real explanation. Or, if he's found someone else, then just say it. But I want proof—who is he? Krit's a cop, isn't he? Bring me the evidence, and let's settle this properly.

 

"Wayu, are you okay?" Thai asked as we sat together in the dressing room.

 

"Like hell I am," I snapped back immediately.

 

"Damn, you're feisty today. If you're this pissed, why even come to work?"

 

"If I stay home alone, I'll just overthink. At least working keeps me from going crazy."

 

"Well, right now, your face looks like you're carrying the weight of the world. Try smiling a bit. I just saw Mind earlier. He'll probably call for you soon."

 

"Can you take my place instead?"

 

"Damn, everyone else is so protective of their regular customers, and here you are, just giving yours away. Why?! I think Mind is cute, playful, and a bit of a tease. Why don't you like him?"

 

"I have a boyfriend."

"But didn't he dum..."

He clamped his mouth shut just in time. Good thing, too, because if he had finished that sentence, I would've smacked him with the tissue box. Seeing my dark glare, Thai quickly got up.

 

"Okay, I'll go put myself out there and let Mind decide. Shit, I'm not even the cutesy, flirtatious type like you. No idea if he'll even pick me."

 

Thai walked out, and I let out a deep sigh before collapsing face-down on the table, turning toward the wall. I wasn't talking to anyone. Not that anyone dared to approach me, I was in a foul mood. And now that the whole club knew I'd been dumped right on the side of the road, I was sure plenty of people were enjoying it. Even if they didn't know who Krit was, anyone who resented me must've been thrilled. I worked my way up to being the top of the club, but in the end, even that wasn't enough; he still didn't want me.

 

Whatever. I didn't care about them. I pulled out my phone, sighing again when nothing changed. Krit still refused to talk to me. It was driving me crazy, so much so that I finally called Rose earlier this afternoon.

 

Turns out, even Rose had no clue about this. And they were best friends. She promised to ask Krit what was really going on, but even now, I hadn't heard anything from her. So... was Krit really planning to leave me for good?

 

That thought alone was so painful that I wanted to cry right there. Krit was the warmest, kindest person I'd ever met. Everything he did for me meant so much. I never realised love could bring so much hope and happiness until I met him. His tenderness, his embrace strong and secure, his touch, his kisses, his soft voice, his smile when he looked at me... Krit was like a dream come to life. How was I supposed to accept this?

 

That night, I worked on autopilot. My body moved, but my mind was somewhere else. Everything around me blurred into background noise, just images and sounds, stripped of any emotion. It was like watching a movie play out, except I was acting in it. Just another meaningless night. Until Rose called.

 

It was around 2 a.m. I was so surprised that I immediately stood up and walked away from the music so I could hear her better.

 

"Wayu, listen to me carefully and try to stay calm." Rose's voice was shaking uncontrollably. 

 

"Krit was shot."

I dropped everything and ran.

 

════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

On the way to the hospital, I learned that what happened to Krit had become a nationwide headline. My hands trembled as I scrolled through the news. The police had raided a mansion, and the suspect—a politician's son—was caught at an illegal private party filled with drugs and all sorts of crimes. 

 

The suspect had been shot and arrested in a room where drugs were being used, and sexual assault was taking place. A female idol had been lured there against her will, and a cop had been critically wounded while trying to save her.

 

I arrived at the hospital and rushed straight to the waiting area outside the operating room on the second floor. Rose was already there, looking deeply worried.

 

"Rose, where's Krit?" I called out the moment I stepped off the stairs.

 

"Wayu," Rose stood up, "He's in surgery. We don't know anything yet."

 

Before I could even reach her, a man sitting nearby stood up as well. He fixed me with a piercing, furious glare.

 

"Why are you here?" His deep, authoritative voice cut through the air. "Get out. This is a hospital, not a brothel." I flinched, staring at him in shock. Then, my eyes darted to Rose, and in that moment, I knew. She didn't even have to say it. This was Krit's dad. Tall, imposing, with sharp, intense eyes—so much like Krit's, but lacking his warmth. Beside him sat an older woman, her refined posture and attire making it clear-this had to be Krit's mom.

 

"I... I'm not..."

 

"I don't care what you call yourself," Krit's dad cut me off. "I don't want someone like you near my son. Leave. Now."

 

I was too stunned to respond, just standing there, speechless. His anger only grew.

 

"Are you leaving on your own, or do I have to drag you out myself?"

 

He took a step toward me. Rose and Krit's mom hurried to intervene.

"Uncle, please..."

"Honey, don't!"

 

Krit's dad grabbed me by the collar and dragged me toward the stairs. Rose and Krit's mom screamed for him to stop, but he didn't care. Without hesitation, he hurled me down the stairs. I barely managed to grab the railing in time—if I hadn't, I would've tumbled all the way down.

 

"Honey, please, stop! We can't make a scene here. Krit is still in surgery!" Krit's mom pleaded.

 

"And whose fault is that?!" He pointed straight at me, his voice seething with rage. 

 

"If it weren't for that damn prostitute, Krit wouldn't have been distracted! He wouldn't have gotten himself shot!"

 

Krit's mom burst into tears. Rose immediately went to comfort her, then looked at me and subtly gestured for me to leave.

 

I took the hint and walked away, heading down to the hospital's main lobby, where rows of chairs lined the waiting area. I waited anxiously right there. It was quite some time before Rose came down to see me.

 

"How is Krit?" I asked immediately.

"He's still in surgery," Rose replied.

 

"How much longer will it take?"

"No one knows."

 

"But Krit will be okay, right?"

"I hope so."

 

Rose's voice was barely above a whisper. I clenched my hands together. Sitting here helplessly, waiting to hear whether the person I love would live or die, was pure agony. All I could do was pray for his safety, unable to do anything more.

 

"The man I just met... was that Krit's dad?

"Mmm."

 

"Why did he talk to me like that?"

 

And then, I learned from Rose that Krit's dad had discovered the truth about us. It had come to light in the worst possible, humiliating and devastating way. He was furious, so much so that he struck Krit in front of his wife. He swore that even if he were to die, he would never accept this.

 

"So this is why Krit broke up with me, isn't it?"

 

My voice trembled, filled with both anger and pain. I was angry at everything, including Krit. Why did he do this? Did he think I was that weak? Even if we couldn't be together, even if all I could do was love him from afar, I still wanted to choose to love him. His reasoning may have been more practical, more grounded in reality, but why didn't he ask me just once if I wanted to break up with him? If I wanted to move on and love someone else while he suffered alone? Just the thought of him watching me do that shattered my heart.

 

I was heartbroken that things had come to this. Even if his family refused to accept us, Krit shouldn't have had to bear it all alone. Now I understand why, from the very first moment we met, I felt like we had something in common. What I saw in Krit's eyes that day was the same loneliness I carried within me. He grew up in a seemingly perfect family, yet he had to suppress and hide parts of himself to maintain that illusion. When the people who should care about your feelings don't, it feels as if you're completely alone in the world.

 

I buried my face in my hands and wept.

 

════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

Hours later, the doctor finally came out and informed Krit's family that, although they had successfully removed the bullet, Krit remained in a coma. There was no telling when—or if he would wake up.

 

I listened to Rose relay the news, feeling numb. My hands and feet turned ice-cold, while Krit's mom fainted on the spot in front of the doctor. After that day, my world was never the same.

 

I visited Krit at the hospital every single day, barely eating or sleeping. I secretly asked the nurses or Rose about his condition, always careful to avoid running into his dad. He truly despised me. His words were brutal, every sentence laced with contempt. No matter how much I tried to steel myself against it, it still hurt.

 

If it had been anyone else, I would have fought back. I would have lashed out with words just as sharp, leaving no room for him to breathe. But this was Krit's dad. He was someone Krit loved. No matter how much he cursed me, I couldn't bring myself to hate him.

 

Time dragged on, from the first week into the second, with no sign of improvement. Krit remained unconscious, and my mental state deteriorated day by day. At night, I worked. During the day, I stayed at the hospital, watching over him from a distance, always avoiding his dad. If I did run into him and couldn't slip away in time, I would quickly bow and make myself scarce before he could explode. To him, I was probably like a ghost lingering at the edge of his vision, an unwelcome presence that refused to disappear.

 

I became so exhausted that I lost the will to work. Eventually, I started taking more days off until I had to step away from my job entirely. Drinking with customers at night and rushing to the hospital by day—it was too much for my body to handle.

 

════[changbins_delulu_wife]════

 

Two full weeks passed, and the tension only grew heavier. Krit's parents, Rose, and I continued keeping vigil by his side, but he showed no signs of waking up. Every day, I saw the same sight: someone sitting beside his bed, their face etched with sorrow. Sometimes, that person was me. 

 

Today, with his parents not yet at the hospital, I went to see Krit. I sat beside him in silence, watching his unmoving form. His eyelids remained shut. His chest rose and fell faintly, a sign that he was still alive, yet he couldn't get up. He couldn't even open his eyes to look at me.

 

I had read somewhere that coma patients might regain consciousness more quickly if their loved ones engaged with them through touch, conversation, or even playing familiar music. So I pulled out my phone and selected the playlist I had once shared with Krit.

 

Soft, melodic notes filled the air—a song both of us knew well. The familiar tune warmed my heart and made me think of all the moments we had shared.

 

"Krit, do you remember this song?" I whispered. "I spent so long choosing this one before I sent it to you."

 

I swallowed hard, my voice barely steady. "I miss your voice so much. Please... wake up and talk to me."

 

I held Krit's hand. His was larger than mine, still warm with life. My voice wavered as emotions surged within me.

 

"You promised you'd always be there for me. We still have so many things we wanted to do together. I even promised you I'd try to make things better for us. And one day, if I can, I'll go back, finish my degree, and become an architect. You have to be there to see that day."

 

I pressed my cheek against his hand. I wanted a future with him. I wanted us to be part of each other's lives, not just a memory.

 

"You once said that if I ever wanted to ask you for something, I should just say it. Well... I'm asking now. Wake up, Krit. Please. I won't ask for anything else."

 

Watching someone you love lie motionless, knowing there's nothing you can do, not even knowing if your hope will come true—it was a slow, agonising destruction. No matter how strong you tried to be, at some point, you would break.

 

And soon, I would witness that breaking right before my eyes.

 

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One evening, as I arrived at the hospital as usual, I saw a male nurse pushing a wheelchair through the entrance. Krit's mom sat in it, looking frail, while his dad walked briskly alongside her. I watched, puzzled. She looked weaker than ever, murmuring nonstop to herself. I had never seen her like this before. No matter how much grief she carried over the past days, she had always sat silently by Krit's bedside, her expression solemn. Even when her husband lashed out in frustration, she never reacted. But now, she was sobbing uncontrollably, barely holding herself together.

 

"Does your pride matter more than your son's life? Answer me!" Her voice was loud enough that people turned to look.

 

I had never seen Krit's dad's expression like this before. His face was dark, his jaw clenched as he stared at his wife, who was wailing through her tears.

 

"Don't blame him for who he is! He's our son! If every good thing about him comes from you, then consider every flaw to have come from me." She beat her chest with her fists. "Don't blame himblame me instead!"

 

The male nurse wheeled her past me, but I didn't follow. It didn't feel right to interfere at that moment. Instead, I went up to Krit's room. Not long after, Rose arrived at the hospital and went to check on his mom.

 

I stepped out into the hall, the passage leading to Krit's room, until his dad and Rose arrived. When the nurse informed them that Krit was still unconscious, his dad pressed his lips together tightly and muttered, "You're my own son, and yet... how much more disappointment must you bring me?"

 

In that moment, my patience truly snapped. Whether he said it out of stress or sorrow didn't matter; I stepped toward him without hesitation.

 

"Why would you say something like that?"

 

Krit's dad flinched, staring at me as if he couldn't believe I dared to speak up. But I couldn't stop myself anymore.

 

"Wayu," Rose tried to pull me back by the arm.

 

"I won't stand here and listen to you talk about Krit like that—not even if you're his dad. He's done everything he can to keep the people around him from getting hurt, and after all that, you still call him a disappointment?"

 

Tears spilt down my cheeks. I wiped them away hastily and met his dad's eyes.

 

"I don't know if Krit still matters to you... But he matters to me."

 

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The next day, I returned to the hospital. I ran into Rose, who had brought a fruit basket to visit Krit's mom. She was on a phone call with a client, holding the basket in one hand. When she saw me, she gestured for me to take it from her.

 

"Take this to Auntie's room for me," she whispered before turning back to her conversation. I hesitated for a moment, glancing at her, but she remained focused on her call. It was an important client or a pressing issue that needed to be solved.

I took the elevator to the upper floors, where Krit's mom was staying in a private hospital room. Rose had told me that Krit's mom had collapsed at home the other day, likely due to exhaustion, both physically and emotionally, from several consecutive days of insufficient rest.

 

When I reached the room, I hesitated for a moment before carefully pushing the door open just a little and peeking inside. Krit's mom was asleep on the bed, an IV drip attached to her arm. I tiptoed into the room, making sure not to make any noise. After placing the fruit basket on the bedside table, I quietly stepped back.

 

"Dear..."

 

Her voice startled me. She had opened her eyes and was calling out.

 

"Uh... Are you asking for Rose? I'll go get her," I said quickly.

 

"No, I meant you."

 

I wasn't sure what to do, so I stepped closer to her bed. Seeing her up close, I could tell just how much Krit resembled his mom. She must have been a stunning woman in her youth. Though Krit's eyes were shaped more like his dad's, long and narrow, his were sharper and more intense. But his nose, lips, and overall features, he had inherited from his mom.

 

"How is Krit? Has he woken up yet?"

"Not yet," I answered.

 

She fell silent for a moment before asking in a quiet voice, "What's your name?"

 

"Wayu," I replied.

 

"It means 'wind, she murmured. Then she looked at me and asked, "Do you love Krit?"

 

"Yes," I answered honestly. I could only pray that she wasn't like his dad, that she wouldn't ask me to stop loving him because I couldn't.

 

"Is he good to you?"

 

The question surprised me a little, but it also gave me a sense of relief.

 

"Krit is very good to me. He... he's gentle, though he doesn't always show it directly. He seems serious, but he's incredibly kind."

 

"That's just how he is."

 

Warmth spread through my chest. It was no surprise that Krit had grown into the person he was. She asked me to adjust the bed so she could sit up more comfortably.

 

"Do you need anything else, Auntie?" I asked after helping her. She looked at me, and then tears began streaming down her pale face.

 

"I just want Krit to wake up."

 

A sharp pain gripped my chest. Without thinking, I reached out and held her frail hand.

 

"I do too."

 

Her tears fell onto the back of my hand. I swallowed hard, forcing myself not to cry. She was here, fragile and vulnerable. If Krit couldn't be here to take care of her, then I would do it in his place.

 

"Don't lose hope, Auntie," I tried to steady my voice, keeping it from trembling. 

 

"We can't let ourselves fall into despair. Krit will be okay. He will come back to us. He's the most responsible person I've ever met. No matter how much pain or hardship he's in, if he knew we were sitting here, suffering and worrying about him like this, he wouldn't let it stay this way for long. Auntie, what religion do you follow?"

 

"I'm Christian."

 

I pulled a chair closer to the bed and sat down. Then, I reached out to hold her hand again.

 

"Then let's pray together. I'm Buddhist, but we can both pray for Krit to recover."

 

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Wayu didn't know that at that moment, Police Major General Phithak was standing at the door, watching. His face was grim, full of turmoil. This was the boy he could barely stand to look at. The boy who had tainted his son's reputation. Even though he now knew that Wayu hadn't been selling his body, that he had only worked at a host bar, the disgust in his heart came not from the profession but from the very nature of what Wayu was. Deviant. Perverse.

 

Phithak clenched his jaw so tightly that the muscles stood out. The word cut deep into his own heart. He had spent his life rejecting this; he had sworn never to accept people like this. Yet, it had happened in his own family. He watched as Wayu sat beside his wife, caring for her as if she were his own elder.

 

Throughout Krit's hospitalisation, Wayu had been here constantly, just like Rose, Krit's closest friend. Rose had devoted herself to visiting and looking after Krit, and Phithak had looked at her with admiration and affection. But when it came to Wayu, he had only ever met him with hatred and open disdain.

 

That night, Phithak went home alone. The house was quiet and empty. He climbed the grand staircase to the upper floor and stopped in front of Krit's room. When he pushed open the door, everything inside remained as it had been on the last day Krit was home. But something new had been placed on the bed. 

 

Stepping closer, he saw that they were baby keepsakes from the hospital, the ones they had received on the day they brought their newborn son home. Tiny mittens and socks, a small pillowcase with Krit's newborn footprints stamped on it, a card wishing him a happy, healthy life, and a Polaroid photo of himself holding baby Krit in his arms while his wife stood beside him.

 

A memory surfaced-the day his wife had collapsed and been rushed to the hospital. That evening, he had come home to find the light in Krit's room still on. When he entered, he saw his wife sitting on Krit's bed, surrounded by his childhood belongings. When she saw him, she turned, her eyes red and swollen from crying.

 

'Look at this,' she had said, picking up the tiny pillowcase. Do you remember how happy we were the day he was born? We waited for this child for so long—we almost lost hope.

 

Phithak had been stunned. He had immediately sensed that she wasn't in a stable state of mind.

 

'Krit is strong-willed and kind. He's always tried to make us proud. Tears streamed down her pale cheeks as she looked at him, her eyes filled with heartbreak. When she finally spoke, her words came in a rush, raw, angry, and choked with sobs.

 

'He grew up to be a good person, someone selfless, someone who takes care of us. He's as good a person as can be. So why can't you just see that? Why does it have to matter that he's gay? It's not hurting anyone! What do honour and reputation even mean if we lose him because of it?!'

 

Pimjit had clutched the tiny pillowcase to her chest, sobbing so hard that she had fainted right in front of him. Phithak let out a deep, weary sigh. He sat down on Krit's bed, in the same spot where his wife had sat that night. His eyes were hollow and dark. What could be more important/more meaningful than spending each day with the ones we love?

 

His stubbornness, his unwavering pride—it had done nothing but tear his family apart. He had thought he had lost his son because of what he was. But now, it seemed he was about to lose both of the most important people in his life.

 

The once-strong and dignified shoulders of Police Major General Phithak slumped.

Now, he finally understood what truly mattered in life. But it might already be too late—he wasn't sure if he'd ever get the chance to make things right.

 

Twenty-one days after Krit was shot, he finally woke from his coma.