The perfect crime

12

The darkness of the warehouse clung to them, a silent reminder of the burdens they each carried. Though they were a gang, bonded by shared histories and misfortunes, in moments like this, each of them was locked in their own world of memories and unresolved pain.

Phuwin, still shaken from his nightmare, sat with his back against the cold, cracked wall, breathing heavily. The shadows seemed to close in on him, the echo of his ex's obsessive presence haunting his mind. His hands trembled as he buried his face in them, trying to push away the voices that lingered, the constant feeling of being watched, controlled. Pond had once helped him stand strong against this darkness, had been a hand to pull him out when he felt like he was drowning. But now, Pond wasn't here. And that absence stung like a fresh wound.

Not far away, Aou lay curled up, the remnants of the pills dulling his senses, offering a fragile and temporary escape. His mind drifted through foggy memories of laughter and adventure, moments that had once felt real but were now slipping away, leaving only a hollow emptiness. He thought of Boom, of the connection they'd formed despite all odds. How he wished he could be brave enough to face his own pain without numbing it, to let Boom see the real him—the one that hid behind his careless smirks and feigned bravado. But tonight, he let the numbness settle in, feeling the weight of his sadness pressing down like a heavy blanket.

In the far corner of the room, Joong sat with his back to the wall, knees pulled to his chest, lost in thought. His father's last, sorrowful gaze, the sterile scent of the hospital, and the hollow echo of his mother's final breath—they haunted him relentlessly. And now, as he looked at the small room around him, he wondered if he'd always be running from the ghosts of his past, even with Phuwin and Aou by his side. Dunk's concern lingered in his mind; he'd felt, just for a moment, as if someone truly cared about him, not for his toughness or loyalty, but for the person he was beneath it all. But Dunk wasn't here either, and Joong knew he had to bear his burdens alone, at least for now.

Outside, the rain continued to fall, its rhythmic patter a background symphony to the silent struggles inside. Each of them wrestled with their own demons, trapped in memories, heartbreak, and regrets.

Eventually, the early light of dawn crept through the cracked windows, casting a dim glow across the worn walls. Phuwin, unable to sleep, stood and stretched, shaking off the remnants of his nightmare. He glanced over at Joong and Aou, knowing that they, too, had spent the night in their own haunted worlds. Silently, he approached them, and together, they exchanged weary glances—a silent understanding that no words could convey.

Aou forced a small, tired grin, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "We're one messed-up crew, aren't we?"

Joong smirked, though it was strained. "You say that like it's news."

Phuwin chuckled softly, grateful, at least, for their shared presence, for the familiarity of their voices. In this dark world they'd created for themselves, they were all each other had.

"Come on," Phuwin said, a spark of determination returning to his gaze. "We'll find a way out. Together."

They nodded, a silent promise. Whatever battles lay ahead—internal or otherwise—they would face them side by side.

The rain had finally stopped, but the early morning air remained damp and cold. Pond, Boom, and Dunk gathered in a small café, its windows fogged from the warmth inside. They were exhausted, each of them grappling with their own frustrations and regrets. The silence between them was thick, as if none of them dared to voice the thoughts running through their minds.

Pond stared into his coffee, watching the steam rise in soft spirals. He couldn't shake the image of Phuwin's face from his mind—the determination, the sadness, the silent acceptance of their impossible situation. He'd never imagined things would end up this way, with Phuwin slipping from his grasp not as a criminal he needed to catch, but as someone he didn't want to lose. The lines between right and wrong had blurred, leaving him with an ache he didn't know how to soothe.