A Vihokratana's tragedy

16. The promise

"Edgar Allan Poe says, 'I remained too much inside my head and ended up losing my brain,'" Drake said, taking Frank's book away from his hands. Frank had only taken a short twenty-minute nap, and now he was deeply immersed in his book while everyone else was enjoying each other's company. Drake wanted Frank to be part of that too. He wanted him to laugh at Nanon's lame jokes so hard that he wouldn't even hear Ohm's sarcastic comments. He wanted Frank to notice Pluem and Chimon's secret, silent communication. He didn’t want Frank to miss any of this.

"And J.K. Rowling says, 'I do believe something magical can happen when you read a good book,'" Frank retorted, giving Drake a mocking smirk. He reached for his book, trying to grab it back, but failed.

"Magic is already happening, Frank. You just need to look around. Your brothers are smiling, laughing, and giggling, while you're here burying your head in this—" Drake paused to read the title of the book and suddenly went pale. "Autopsy of a Suicidal Mind." His words fell to a whisper, his voice barely audible.

"Don’t panic just because you saw a book with 'suicidal' written on it," Frank said, his voice soft but steady as he placed his hand around Drake's neck, pulling him closer. He whispered in his ear, "I won't be doing the same shit again. I promised you, remember?"

But those words didn’t help Drake. They couldn’t calm the storm inside his mind.

....

Drake still vividly remembered the horrifying scene: Frank's lifeless body lying on his bed, an empty bottle of sleeping pills beside him. Frank's body was slowly turning cold. His breaths were shallow, almost imperceptible, as if life were ebbing away. As if Frank would be gone any second, as if he would be dead...dead in Drake's own house, and Drake had been completely oblivious, utterly helpless in the face of this tragedy. His Frank, the love of his life, had taken his own life.

Frank had wanted to die. He couldn't bear the pain of living any longer, not even for Drake's sake. This realization hit Drake with the force of a tidal wave. Frank, his last hope for happiness, wanted to be gone. Should Drake follow him? Should he end his own suffering and join Frank in peaceful oblivion?

The sight of Frank's lifeless form, so still and serene, filled Drake with a strange sense of longing. There was no crying, no wailing, no torment. Just a profound sense of peace. He craved that peace, yearned to be with Frank in that tranquil state.

His gaze fell upon the scissors on the drafting table, gleaming like beacons of hope. They offered a way to join his beloved. He desperately wanted the sharp blades to pierce his wrist, to feel the warm blood oozing out from the wound, drawing him closer to Frank, closer to peace.

Drake reached for the scissors, his fingers trembling. Then, Frank's phone rang. "Big bro Pluem ❤😁" The caller ID displayed Pluem's name.

....

"Dr-Drake," Frank sobbed, his voice cracking with every word, but he didn’t stop. "Pr...promise me you won’t let my family know about any of this. Promise me you’ll cover for me. I want them to keep smiling. I don’t want them to look at me with pity. Drake, help me... if I ever make a wrong choice. Help me, Drake, please."

His words pierced through Drake like a knife, each syllable a plea for help that echoed in the silence. Frank's vulnerability, his desperation, shattered the walls Drake had built around his own pain. How could Frank ask him to carry this burden? To keep this secret? To keep pretending everything was fine when it was all falling apart?

....

Those words of Frank from the past echoed relentlessly in Drake’s mind, each one tearing at his heart. It felt as though his heart was twisted into a knot so tight that his blood flow slowed, almost stopping. His hands trembled, and he balled them into fists, his nails digging into his palms. What had he been thinking? Peace in death? No. That wasn’t the answer. Screw it. He needed to move. Frank needed help. He had promised Frank he would be there if he ever made a wrong choice, and this was most certainly one. He needed to help Frank, no matter what.