Everlasting (PONDPHUWIN)

Chapter 13: Separation

The days that followed their confrontation were a blur of numbness and pain for Nueng. Each morning, he forced himself out of bed, going through the motions of his daily routine as if on autopilot. But everything felt hollow—his classes, his interactions with others, even the simple act of eating. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, not without Palm by his side.

At school, the silence between them was deafening. Nueng and Palm avoided each other, their once shared spaces now barren, as if they had silently agreed to stay away from the places that held memories of their time together. The library corner they used to frequent, the quiet benches in the park, even the classroom seats they had chosen to sit near each other—all of these places now felt empty and cold.

Nueng missed Palm with an intensity that left him breathless. He missed the way Palm's smile lit up his day, the sound of his laughter, the warmth of his touch. But most of all, he missed the way Palm had made him feel—like he was special, like he was worth something beyond the expectations placed on him by his family and society.

But now, that connection was severed, and Nueng was left adrift, unable to find his way back to the happiness they had shared. He kept his head down at school, ignoring the lingering whispers of rumors and speculation. It was easier to pretend that nothing was wrong, to bury the pain deep inside and focus on his studies.

But at night, when the silence of his room became too much to bear, Nueng found himself replaying the last moments he had spent with Palm, the look of heartbreak on his face as they parted ways. The guilt gnawed at him, a constant reminder of the choice he had made—a choice that now felt like a terrible mistake.

Palm, too, was struggling. He tried to throw himself into his schoolwork, to keep busy and distract himself from the ache in his chest. But no matter what he did, he couldn't escape the emptiness that had settled over his life. Everything reminded him of Nueng—the places they had gone together, the conversations they had shared, even the simple act of walking through the school hallways brought back memories of the boy he loved.

Palm's friends noticed the change in him, the way his usual bright energy had dimmed, replaced by a quiet sadness that he couldn't hide. But whenever they asked if he was okay, Palm would force a smile, insisting that he was fine, even though he knew it was a lie.

In the privacy of his room, Palm allowed himself to feel the full weight of his grief. He missed Nueng with a fierceness that bordered on desperation. He wanted to reach out, to tell Nueng that they could fix things, that they could find a way to make it work. But the fear of rejection, of hearing Nueng say that it was truly over, kept him silent.

Days turned into weeks, and the distance between them grew wider, the silence more unbearable. The pain of their separation was a constant presence, a dull ache that never went away. Both boys were struggling, lost in their own worlds of regret and heartache, but neither knew how to bridge the gap that had formed between them.

---

One afternoon, after yet another lonely day at school, Nueng found himself standing in the middle of his room, staring at the photo of him and Palm that he had kept hidden in his desk drawer. It was a candid shot, taken during one of their study sessions in the park. Palm was smiling, his eyes bright with laughter as he looked at Nueng, who was mid-laugh himself.

The photo captured a moment of pure happiness, a time when everything had seemed so simple and easy. But now, it felt like a relic from a past that Nueng could never get back.

Nueng traced the outline of Palm's face in the photo, his heart heavy with longing. He wanted to reach out, to call Palm and tell him that he missed him, that he was sorry for pushing him away. But the fear of what might happen if he did—if Palm didn't want to hear from him, if Palm had moved on—kept him from picking up the phone.