To the end

09

The Music of Feeling & Healing

The soft melody from the piano echoed through the house, filling the air with notes of hope and nostalgia. Kim sat at the grand piano, his fingers moving effortlessly over the keys, playing a tune that he hadn’t touched in years. Across the room, Ken stood quietly, watching as Kim rediscovered a part of himself he had long buried.

Venice and Leiah sat close by, eyes wide in awe, their tiny hands occasionally clapping along to the rhythm. When Kim finished the song, their claps grew louder, and their faces lit up with joy.

“That was so beautiful, papa!” Leiah squealed, her eyes shining with admiration.

“Yeah, it sounded amazing,” Venice added, nodding eagerly. “You should play more!”

A smile tugged at Kim’s lips as he looked at his children. Their happiness made him feel lighter. But as his fingers rested on the final keys, his thoughts drifted, and his expression grew somber.

Kim’s voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he spoke, “This piano… it was a gift from Vegas. He loved watching me play. It was something we shared.”

The room fell into a quiet hush. The mention of Vegas stirred emotions in Kim that he had been trying to suppress. Ken, standing close by, noticed the shift in Kim’s demeanor. He had seen this before—Kim’s struggle to balance the pain of his past with the progress of his healing.

Ken moved closer, gently resting his hand on Kim’s shoulder. “It’s okay to feel this way, Kim. You’ve been through so much. And it’s clear how much Vegas meant to you.”

Kim nodded but kept his gaze on the piano. “He always believed in me, in my music. He would listen, even when I thought I wasn’t good enough. He’d just sit there, smiling, like it was the best thing in the world.”

Venice and Leiah, sensing their father’s sadness, came closer. Venice leaned against Kim, while Leiah grabbed his hand gently. “, it’s okay. We’re here,” she whispered sweetly.

Kim smiled at his children, feeling their love surround him. Yet, the emptiness in his chest persisted. As much as he wanted to move forward, the weight of Vegas’ absence held him back.

Ken, always there for Kim, offered his quiet support. “Vegas would want you to keep playing. Not just for him, but for yourself. And for them,” he said, gesturing toward Venice and Leiah.

Kim looked up at Ken, feeling a flicker of warmth at his words. “I know,” he whispered. “But it’s hard. Every note I play reminds me of him. I want to be better, to heal, but...”

Ken smiled softly. “Healing takes time. And you don’t have to do it all at once. Just keep playing, one step at a time.”

....

It was late, the house cloaked in shadows, and Kim sat quietly at the piano, his fingers resting on the keys. The kids had gone to bed hours ago, and now it was just him and Ken, sitting across from each other. The tension was different tonight—more raw, like something unspoken lingered in the air.

Ken leaned against the doorway, watching Kim. The familiar sense of admiration tugged at him, but tonight it felt heavier. He had been hiding his feelings for so long, and the burden had grown unbearable.

"You played beautifully today," Ken broke the silence, his voice soft but tinged with something more.

Kim’s eyes flickered toward him. "It was Vegas’ favorite. I haven’t played it in so long."

Ken nodded, stepping closer. He could feel the weight of Kim’s pain, the cracks that still hadn't healed. But it wasn’t just the past that troubled Ken—it was his own emotions, stirring and pulling at him.

"I’ve wanted to tell you something for a while," Ken finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. Kim looked up at him, curiosity and exhaustion in his eyes.

“What is it?” Kim asked.

Ken took a deep breath, stepping closer until he was standing just inches from Kim. "I’ve always had feelings for you, Kim. Since before all of this. I didn’t want to push it because I know you’re healing, but... I can’t hold it in anymore."

Kim’s brow furrowed. He wasn’t expecting this. The air between them felt thick, almost suffocating. "Feelings?" he asked, his voice barely audible.

Ken nodded, eyes never leaving Kim’s. "It’s been there for a long time. I’ve tried to push it away, but... every time I see you, I remember how much you mean to me. I don’t expect you to feel the same, but I had to tell you."

Kim was silent for a moment, processing the confession. His chest tightened as a flood of emotions he wasn’t ready for surfaced. "Ken, I don’t know what to say."

Ken gave a small, pained smile. "You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to be honest."

....

Kim lay naked in bed, his body entwined in sheets stained with blood. The crimson mark between his thighs and on his stomach was a grim reminder of the chaos within him. A knife glimmered faintly on the bedside table, its blade still slick with the remnants of his pain. He had written a name in his own blood—Vegas.

He missed Vegas. God, how he missed him. Every day felt like a lifetime without the warmth of Vegas’s smile or the sound of his laughter. In his darkest moments, Kim found himself wishing he could slip away into death, just to be reunited with the man who had owned his heart. But then he would think of the kids, Venice and Leiah, their faces bright and innocent, and the thought of leaving them behind filled him with dread.

And then there was Ken. Ken, who had become a constant presence in his life, checking in on him, offering support. Kim had confessed things he never intended to share, feelings that had stirred inside him like a tempest. But even as he opened up to Ken, confusion clouded his heart. He had never felt romantic feelings toward Ken; he saw him as a friend, someone who understood his pain and helped him through it.

No matter how kind Ken was or how much he cared, his heart still beat solely for Vegas. No one could ever replace the space Vegas held within him. The memories of their love—intimate moments, shared dreams, whispered promises—were etched into his soul, unerasable.

Kim pressed a hand against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. “Why can’t I just let you go?” he murmured, tears spilling down his cheeks. “Why can’t I just move on?”

The silence of the room offered no answers, only the echo of his despair. He turned his gaze toward the window, the light filtering through the curtains, illuminating the room with a soft glow. The world outside continued on, indifferent to his suffering.

He thought of Vegas’s smile, the way his eyes lit up when he played the piano, and the sound of his laughter, which felt like music to Kim’s ears. “I’m so lost without you,” he whispered to the empty room. “I don’t know how to keep going when all I want is you.”

But the reality of his situation weighed heavily on him. He couldn't give in to the darkness, not when he had two beautiful reasons to fight—his children. They needed him. And as much as he wanted to succumb to the pain, he had to find a way to heal, for their sake and for his.

With trembling hands, he picked up the knife, studying its reflection. It wasn’t just a tool of despair; it could be a means of survival, a way to cut through the darkness. He had to reclaim his life, not just for Vegas, but for Venice and Leiah, who had stood by him in his darkest hour.

Setting the knife down, Kim took a deep breath, feeling a flicker of resolve ignite within him. He would honor Vegas's memory, cherish the love they had, and find a way to move forward without losing himself completely.

“I’ll find my way back,” he promised, wiping his tears away. “For you, for them.”

As he lay back against the pillows, he closed his eyes, imagining Vegas’s face, the way it had always seemed to radiate warmth and love. It was time to heal, to let go of the guilt and the pain, and to remember that while Vegas would always hold a piece of his heart, it was possible to love again without forgetting.