In Lines Of Love ~ Kimchay

35. A Note Too Late

(Tw-Suicide attempt)

Kimhan always thought he knew what fear was.

He had faced death, lived through betrayal, carried the weight of secrets too heavy to speak.

Mafia life was cruel, but he survived it.

And he thought he would always survive.

But nothing,

Nothing,

Could compare to the terror suffocating him now.

The note was still in his shaking hands, crumpled, damp from sweat. From tears.

He could barely read it anymore, but the words were already burned into his soul.

I thought I was okay.
I really did.
But some wounds don’t heal, Phi.
After you left, I thought I could survive this. But everything is suffocating. Too heavy for me.
Some nights, no matter how much I try, I still can’t breathe.
I’m tired.
And I know now, I was never as strong as you thought.
I love you, Phi Kim.
I will always.

Your Porchay

Kimhan’s breath shattered.

His heart slammed against his ribs, a violent, desperate rhythm of panic.

His angel. His Porchay. Came to see him. He wasn't there. Fuck, Fuck, Fuck Fuc—

He needed to see him.

He needed to see him now.

Faster. Faster.

His foot slammed against the accelerator, the car roaring as it weaved through traffic. Red lights meant nothing. Speed limits didn’t exist.

There was only the road, the time slipping through his fingers, and the thought that if he was too late—

His fingers clenched around the steering wheel, knuckles white.

Porchay had moved on.

Hadn’t he?

Kimhan had seen it from afar. He had watched from the shadows, seen the way Porchay laughed with Porsche, trained with Kinn, draped over Tankhun’s couch watching ridiculous dramas.

He had seemed happy. He had seemed okay. He never seemed he needed something.

Had Kim been blind?

Or had he just wanted to believe it so badly that he ignored the cracks?

The gates of the compound appeared, and Kimhan didn’t slow as he swerved in, tires screeching.

He barely stopped the car before throwing the door open and running.

His heart was beating too fast.

Too fast.

"WHERE IS HE?!" The words ripped from his throat the second he reached the front hall.

A guard blinked at him, startled. “Khun? Everyone’s out—at Yok’s bar where Porsche used to work. But Porchay—”

Kimhan didn’t hear the rest.

His feet pounded against the stairs, faster, faster, faster—

Porchay’s door.

Kimhan didn’t knock.

Didn’t breathe.

With all th force he got. He shoved it open with shaking hands.

And the world stopped.

Porchay hung from the ceiling fan.

His body limp.

His head tilted slightly to the side, his lips slightly parted, as if he had just taken his last breath.