Autumn is a second spring

116. Screams

 The living room was quiet, the faint hum of the air conditioner the only background noise. Fluke was still seated across from Prem, watching him process everything that had just been said. Prem stared blankly into his coffee, the once-hot drink now cold, untouched for the past several minutes.

Finally, Prem broke the silence. "Why did you bring Net in front of me?"

Fluke leaned back in the chair, folding his arms loosely. "I just thought you deserved to know the truth."

"The truth?" Prem scoffed under his breath. "Why did you think I needed to know it? Do you want me to go back to Hia now?"

Fluke's face didn't change. He shook his head. "No. Whether you go back to him or not is completely your decision, Prem. I am not here to pressure you. I just... I just thought you should have all the facts before you decide anything."

Prem massaged his temples, pressing his fingers hard against the sides of his head. He could feel the frustration bubbling up again, like a storm he had tried to keep at bay. "It wasn't the fake proposal," he muttered. "That wasn't why I left. That was just the final straw."

He dropped his hands and looked at Fluke, eyes slightly bloodshot, whether from lack of sleep or emotion, Fluke wasn't sure.

"It was the moment I realized that Hia didn't even value me as much as he did his secretary," Prem said, voice tight. "I mean, if he had given me even half the attention or recognition he gave James, I might have found a reason to stay. But he didn't."

"I know," Fluke said softly.

Prem let out a dry laugh and rubbed his face with both hands, dragging them down slowly. "I just feel stupid now. Stupid for loving him so much. For thinking maybe—just maybe—he would love me the same way back."

Fluke didn't try to defend Boun. He didn't try to explain or justify anything. He simply reached out and rubbed gentle circles on Prem's back, his touch silent but comforting.

Then Fluke's phone buzzed on the table, vibrating loud against the wood. He picked it up and glanced at the screen. "It's Sammy," he said, looking at Prem. "She is probably worried sick about you. Mind if I pick it up?"

Prem made a dismissive gesture. "Do whatever you want."

Fluke answered the call. "Hello?"

Sammy's voice came through the speaker, clipped and formal. "Is this Khun Natouch's number?"

Fluke winced slightly. She never called him by his first name. That was already a warning bell. "Khrab, it's me."

"This is Samantha, manager of Prem Warut from SZ Entertainment," she continued. "I was informed by Mr. Boun Noppanut that my artist has gone missing. Is he with you?"

Fluke cleared his throat and shot a glance at Prem, who was now mildly interested in the conversation. "Yes, he is here."

"I would like to speak to him," Sammy said coolly.

Fluke held the phone toward Prem. "She wants to talk to you."

Prem shook his head and shoved Fluke's hand away. "Nope. Not now."

But Fluke put the phone on speaker anyway and placed it on the table. He gave Prem a subtle look, one that said: Don't make me deal with this alone.

Prem sighed and leaned in. "Sammy... why are you calling this early?"

Sammy's tone immediately shifted from manager to friend. "You still have the guts to ask me why? Prem, what the hell?! You ran off without a word! I was about to go into labor from stress!"

Fluke bit his lip to hide a grin, and Prem gave him a dirty look before turning back to the phone.

"I am sorry," Prem muttered. "I just didn't want to talk to anyone."

"And you chose him of all people?" Sammy barked. "The one who disappeared without a trace, leaving so much mess behind him and showed up after a while as if he had done nothing wrong? Great choices all around!"

Fluke winced again. "I am sitting right here, you know."

"Yeah, and you should hear this," Sammy snapped, then softened. "Look... P' Boun told me. He said you saw the proposal. That you misunderstood. It was staged, Prem. A fake proposal, a prank done to cheer James. Nothing more."

"I didn't misunderstand," Prem said quickly. "I know it was fake. Fluke's secretary just confirmed it."

"Then why would you disappear like that? Not even a call?"

"I just... couldn't face anyone," Prem admitted. "I wasn't in a good place."

There was a beat of silence. Then Sammy's voice, quieter: "Are you okay?"

"I am okay now. Just... caught a fever. From the rain. It's nothing."

"I am coming over," she declared.

Prem's eyes widened. "Sammy, no. You're eight months pregnant. You shouldn't even be walking this much."

"You think I care?" she snapped, her voice cracking a little. "You are not a burden, Prem. I am your family. If something is wrong, you come to me, not hide in someone else's house like a kicked puppy."

Prem looked genuinely guilty now. "I'm really okay. I promise. I just needed time. Fluke is family too Sammy. We can't just cut ties with him just because he was stupid, can we?" He could feel Fluke's mock glare on him but he didn't mind. "And Fluke took good care of me. Please don't stress yourself."

But Sammy wasn't listening. "I am coming over. Don't try to talk me out of it."

Prem sighed in surrender. "Fine."

The line clicked off. Fluke placed the phone on the table, lips twitching with amusement.

"What?" Prem snapped.

"You do realize she is going to turn up in a bathrobe and rubber slippers, dragging poor P' Ton behind her, right?"

Prem rolled his eyes. "Let her. She can scream at me in person."

Then, he slumped against the back of his chair. "This is getting pathetic. I am heartbroken, not handicapped."

Fluke laughed. "You could have fooled me."

"I just need something to do," Prem said suddenly, sitting up. "I have a few days off and I hate sitting idle. Give me something—anything."

Fluke tilted his head, understanding immediately that Prem just wanted to keep himself busy. "Alright. Help me pick a bridal entry song for Earth. He had been driving me mad about it and I barely have anytime to sit down and browse through those hundred shortlisted songs he gave me and pick one."

Prem's eyes lit up a little. "Piece of cake. Leave it to me."

"Oh, and you need to pick your groomsmen outfit too. Pick one for me too. Earth wants color coordination. You know how he is."

Prem nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I will do it."

He stood up, a little more energetic now. Fluke watched him with a small smile—half fond, half pained. Prem may have been trying to distract himself, but Fluke could see the effort beneath his bravado.

As Prem turned to head upstairs, he paused. Without warning, he turned back and wrapped his arms around Fluke.

"I love you," he mumbled into Fluke's shoulder.

Fluke's arms came around him instinctively. "I love you too."

And in that quiet, rare moment—neither of them meant it romantically. It was a love rooted in years of friendship, scars, and shared silence. The kind of love that doesn't need constant words, but understands everything without saying much at all.