need help

6

The weeks passed in a blur of sterile hospital lights and hushed whispers. Macau remained in the ICU for two weeks, his condition stable yet precarious. His body, battered and broken, lay in the hospital bed, but the real fight was within him. Kim refused to leave his side, holding his brother’s hand, praying for a miracle.

The guilt weighed heavily on everyone who had neglected Macau’s suffering. They visited often, bringing flowers and cards, each trying to atone for their previous indifference. Kinn and Porsche spent hours with Kim, sharing stories about Macau’s kindness and how they had taken his strength for granted. Vegas and Pete stayed late into the night, their eyes red-rimmed from worry, while Arm, Pol, and Big Ken worked tirelessly to uncover the truth about the seniors involved in the bullying.

One evening, after two weeks of agonizing waiting, the doctor finally approached them with an update. “We’re moving Macau to a standard room. He’s stable, but still in a coma. It’s important to talk to him, to let him know he’s not alone.”

Kim’s heart raced at the news. “Can I be with him?”

“Of course,” the doctor replied, giving a reassuring nod. “Family members are encouraged to be present. It can aid in his recovery.”

Once in the new room, the atmosphere felt different—less sterile, yet just as heavy. Sunlight streamed through the window, casting a warm glow on Macau’s pale face. Kim settled into the chair beside the bed, cradling Macau’s hand in his own. The room was filled with the soft hum of machines and the occasional shuffle of nurses checking on their patient.

“Hey, Macau,” Kim whispered, his voice breaking. “It’s me. I’m right here. I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I could take back all those times I didn’t see your pain.” He squeezed Macau’s hand, desperate for any sign of response. “I promise, when you wake up, things will be different. We’ll make sure you’re safe.”

The days turned into weeks, and with every passing moment, Kim stayed by Macau’s side. He read to him, shared memories, and poured out his heart, hoping that somehow, Macau could hear him.

Meanwhile, Kinn and Vegas took it upon themselves to confront the seniors who had tormented Macau. Fueled by rage and guilt, they tracked down the bullies, ensuring they understood the consequences of their actions. With Arm at their side, they found them at a local hangout, laughing and joking, oblivious to the pain they had caused.

“Hey!” Kinn’s voice rang out, slicing through the laughter. The seniors turned, surprise and fear flashing across their faces.

“What do you want?” one of them sneered, trying to maintain a facade of bravado.

Kinn stepped closer, fists clenched. “You think it’s funny to pick on someone weaker than you? You think you can just walk away from what you’ve done?”

“What are you talking about?” another senior scoffed, but Kinn’s glare silenced him.

“Macau is in a coma because of you,” Vegas added, his voice cold. “You think you can bully someone without consequences? We’re not letting this go.”

The confrontation escalated quickly, and the seniors found themselves on the receiving end of a brutal lesson in empathy and consequence. Kinn and Vegas left them bruised and shaken, their anger momentarily soothed.

As the month dragged on, Macau was finally transferred back to the mansion. Kim’s heart swelled with hope and anxiety as they wheeled Macau into his old room. The space felt empty without his presence, but Kim clung to the idea that Macau would soon be awake.

The first night back, Kim stayed up late, watching over his brother. The house felt eerily quiet, everyone else having retreated to their rooms. He whispered into the silence, “You’re home now, Macau. You can wake up whenever you’re ready.”

Days turned into a routine: Kim would sit by Macau’s side, feeding him, talking to him, and occasionally breaking down in tears. He took care of Macau like a vigil, unwilling to leave his side for even a moment.

Chey, feeling the weight of his previous actions, began to visit more often, bringing gifts and treats. He stood awkwardly at the door, not knowing what to say, but Kim welcomed him. “He’ll need all the love he can get when he wakes up,” Kim said, hoping that Chey’s presence would help ease Macau’s burden.

Despite the efforts and care, Macau remained unresponsive, trapped in the depths of his coma. Kim couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more they needed to do. “We can’t just wait,” he said one night, determination hardening his resolve. “We have to help him fight. He needs to know he’s loved.”

Kinn nodded in agreement, his face reflecting a mixture of hope and despair. “We should all talk to him, tell him about everything we’ve done to make it right.”

So, they made a plan. Each night, they would take turns speaking to Macau, pouring their hearts out, recounting stories, and expressing their hopes for his future. It became a ritual, one that filled the room with warmth and love, creating a bond that transcended the pain.

But as time passed, it became evident that their efforts might not be enough. The uncertainty of Macau’s condition loomed over them like a dark cloud. Kim would often catch glimpses of the guilt in Kinn’s eyes and the frustration etched into Vegas’s brow. The weight of their past mistakes pressed down on them, a constant reminder of the love they had taken for granted.

“Macau, you have to wake up,” Kim whispered one night, his voice thick with emotion. “We’re here for you. We love you. Please come back to us.”

As the moon hung high in the sky, shining through the window, a flicker of hope ignited within Kim’s heart. He knew they would fight for Macau, just as Macau had fought to survive, and together they would help him find his way back to the light.