need help

7

The mansion felt earily silent, each creak of the floorboards echoing through the hallways as Kim continued his vigil by Macau's bedside. The weight of the past month pressed heavily on him, each day blending into the next, filled with hope and despair. Macau remained unconscious, and every moment felt like a lifetime.

Kim's heart ached with frustration as he watched Macau lying there, unresponsive. He spent his days caring for him, reading, and whispering promises of a brighter future. He had come to terms with the reality of the situation-Macau might not wake up, and the thought gnawed at him relentlessly.

One afternoon, as Kim was lost in his thoughts, he heard a light knock on the door. He turned to see Chey standing there, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, a forced smile plastered on his face.

"Hey, Kim," Chey said, stepping into the room. "How's Macau doing?"

Kim's gaze narrowed, his defenses rising. "He's the same. Why are you here?"

Chey's smile faltered, and he took a tentative step closer. "I just thought maybe you could use some company. I mean, it must be tough for you, sitting here all the time. Don't you think you should take a break?"

Kim's irritation flared. "A break? How can you even suggest that? Macau needs me. You wouldn't understand."

Chey's expression shifted, a hint of manipulation creeping into his tone. "You know, Kim, maybe if you had treated him better before, he wouldn't be like this. You pushed him away. Everyone did. He was already struggling, and you all ignored him."

Kim felt a surge of anger course through him, his voice rising. "Don't you dare put this on me! You were part of the problem, Chey. You bullied him, you let your friends bully him! You're the last person who should be talking about what he needed!"

Chey flinched, but quickly masked it with a feigned indifference. "I didn't know! I thought he was just being dramatic. I never meant for this to happen."

"Your ignorance doesn't excuse your actions," Kim snapped, standing up from his chair, his fists clenching. "You're here acting like you care now, but where were you when he needed you? You were too busy trying to be popular."

Kim took a step closer to Chey, the tension palpable in the air. "If you really care, you need to take responsibility for what you did. You think showing up here now makes everything okay? It doesn't."

Chey's expression hardened, the facade of concern slipping away. "I'm just trying to help, Kim. Maybe if you weren't so focused on him, you could see how this is affecting everyone else. We're all struggling because of him. Everyone's worried about you too."

"Worried about me?" Kim scoffed, incredulous. "This isn't about me. It's about Macau. He's the one lying in that bed, fighting for his life while you sit here trying to shift the blame. You don't get to manipulate me or guilt me into feeling sorry for myself."

The two stood facing each other, tension crackling between them. Chey opened his mouth to respond, but Kim cut him off.

"Just leave, Chey. I don't want to hear any more of your excuses or your empty words. You're not helping anyone."

Chey's jaw tightened, and for a moment, Kim thought he saw a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by a scowl. Without another word, Chey turned on his heel and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

As the door clicked shut, Kim sank back into the chair beside Macau's bed, his heart racing. The anger faded, replaced by a heavy sense of disappointment. He knew Chey was struggling with the weight of his actions, but that didn't excuse the pain he had caused.

"Macau," Kim whispered, brushing a hand over his brother's cold fingers. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could take all this pain away." Tears brimmed in his eyes as he leaned closer. "Please, just come back to us. I need you."

The following days felt increasingly heavier, with Chey avoiding the room. Kim hoped he would take the time to reflect on his actions, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Chey might never truly understand the gravity of what had happened.

During one late-night vigil, Kinn and Porsche arrived, their faces drawn with fatigue and concern. They approached quietly, careful not to disturb the fragile atmosphere.

"Hey, how's it going?" Kinn asked softly, glancing at Macau's still form.

"Still the same," Kim replied, his voice hoarse. "I had a confrontation with Chey. I don't think he gets it. He still thinks this is all just a phase or something."

Kinn frowned, his brow furrowing. "He needs to face the consequences of what he did. He can't just walk away from this."

"Exactly," Kim said, a bit of his frustration surfacing again. "But he's acting like he's the victim here, like he's just as hurt as Macau. It makes me sick."

Porsche stepped forward, placing a comforting hand on Kim's shoulder. "You're doing the right thing, Kim. You're fighting for Macau. That's what matters."

"Yeah, but it's not enough," Kim admitted, choking back a sob. "I feel so powerless. I just want him to wake up and know that we're here for him."

Kinn nodded. "And he will. Just keep talking to him. He can hear you, even if he can't respond."

As the night wore on, the three of them shared stories about Macau-his laughter, his kindness, and the way he always seemed to put others before himself. They reminisced about the good times they'd had together, and for a brief moment, the room was filled with warmth and love, as if Macau were there with them.

But deep down, Kim knew that the battle wasn't just for Macau's life; it was a battle for all of their souls, to confront their past mistakes and help Macau find his way back to the light.

In the quiet of the night, with only the sound of machines beeping softly, Kim continued to whisper to his brother, hoping against hope that somehow, Macau could feel his presence.