A Vihokratana's tragedy

25. Weight of the Past

The sunset painted the sky in hues of orange and gold as Tay and New returned with Pluem. There was a certain harmony around them — a peace so profound it felt almost sacred. As if all the clouds of confusion, secrets, and suspense had finally emptied themselves, leaving behind nothing but comfort.

Pluem smiled. Maybe it was because his parents had been honest with him. Maybe because today, he’d uncovered more of himself. Or maybe he was just... happy. Simply that.

But Chimon noticed something unsettling in Pluem’s smile. Yes, it was a happy one — but there was something beneath it that ticked at Chi’s instincts. A shadow. A hesitation.

He wanted to talk to his boyfriend. To let him know he was there, always — ready to listen, ready to understand. Ready to be the one who would reach into the dark and pull him into the light.

But before he could say anything, Nanon had dragged him into some ridiculous board games before dinner. The moment slipped away, and Chi didn’t get the chance to show Pluem he was there.

Still, the thought lingered. If Pluem ever raised his hand from the darkness, Chi would be there — always — to pull him out.

....

It was dinner time. Pluem was serving his parents, glancing around to see if anyone needed anything. Frank did the same for Pluem. Nanon and Ohm were bickering about the Power Rangers episodes from earlier, their voices rising and falling in irritation to the other's disagreement. Chimon kept sneaking glances at Pluem when he thought no one was looking. Frank and Drake seemed umm...—more friendly? But like in a way that was hard to pinpoint, but enough to make Nanon noticeably annoyed.

For Perth, it all felt like a fantasy.

He usually ate alone, in silence, swallowed by shadows. Sometimes his dad was there, but not often enough. Just as much to count on one hand. And if his mom happened to be home during dinner, Perth would retreat to his room. A scene like this—this warm, chaotic, imperfect gathering on the dining table—was something he’d only seen in movies or read about in books. Something he’d imagined so vividly in his mind that it was hard to believe it could ever be real.

And yet, here it was. Real. Tangible. He could feel it—but he could also feel himself becoming aware of something else.

Drake.

Ever since the first time he saw him, there was something in Drake’s gaze that Perth couldn’t quite explain. It was like a scream—loud, desperate—but one that Perth couldn’t hear. Even now, across the table, Drake's glances were slow, secret, but unmistakably there. And Perth noticed.

He just didn’t know why those eyes—eyes that looked like an ocean of pain, eerily similar to his own—made him feel like he was the destination.

....

Night hugged the farmhouse, trying to keep it warm from the biting winter cold. Inside, everyone was in their rooms by now—likely too deep in their dreamlands to notice the chill.
But someone was still up, once again claiming the garden as his own.

It was Perth.

Sleep hadn’t come knocking on his lashes yet, so he turned to the moon and stars, hoping they might whisper lullabies instead. He pulled out his phone and started scrolling through the photos they’d taken on this trip.

First, the ones from the bus—Nanon and Ohm almost at each other’s throats because ohm didn't agree with something nanon said, Chimon pulling a funny face (he looked too cute), Pluem reading with his usual quiet focus, and Frank and Drank were deep in conversation, their expressions serious, as if they were discussing life and death.