Autumn is a second spring

134. Night at hospital

Fluke looked at the small figure asleep in Prem's arms, Bew's cheek pressed against Prem's chest, his tiny fist gripping the edge of Prem's shirt. He blinked in disbelief.

"Tell me you didn't actually bring the kid here," Fluke said, lowering his voice, trying not to wake the child.

Prem shifted Bew carefully, his voice quiet but firm. "There was no one to look after him. We couldn't leave him alone."

Boun stood beside him, his expression unreadable, his tone almost defensive. "It's not like we planned to bring him to a hospital. But when we got your text, we just... rushed over."

Fluke sighed, rubbing his temple. The hospital corridor was half-lit and smelled faintly of disinfectant and coffee. "Sammy's water broke, yes, but she hasn't dilated much yet. It will take a while. You two should just go home. Bew shouldn't be here—too many germs, too much noise."

Prem looked reluctant. "P' Ton said there might be complications," he said softly. "We want to be here for them."

Fluke hesitated. He understood. Boston was like family to all of them. Still, Bew was only three—too young for a hospital at midnight.

He finally gave up with a small sigh. "Fine. You can use my room. It's attached to my office. You will at least get some rest there. Come on."

Boun and Prem followed him down the corridor, the sound of Bew's soft breathing filling the silence.

On the way, Boun asked, "Where are P' Kao and Earth? Didn't they come?"

Fluke opened a door and flicked on the light. "They went to get the maternity bag and everything Boston and Sammy might need. The baby came a month early—they weren't ready."

He gestured inside. "Here. There is an attached bathroom. Towels and everything you might need are in there."

Prem nodded, grateful. "Thanks, Fluke."

Fluke gave a tired smile. "Try to sleep. The night is going to be long."

With that, he and Ohm left, leaving the small family alone in the quiet office-turned-bedroom.

Prem set Bew gently on the bed, removing his shoes and socks. The boy stirred, frowning, but Prem's voice was soft and rhythmic as he soothed him back to sleep.

Boun watched from the side, his jaw tight, his chest heavy. It was a scene that once would have melted his heart—Prem humming to Bew, his hand stroking the boy's hair. But now, it only hurt.

He couldn't take it anymore. He turned abruptly and locked himself in the bathroom.

The moment he was alone, he leaned against the sink, gripping its edges. Cold water splashed onto his face, but it did nothing to cool the burn behind his eyes.

He couldn't understand anything anymore. Why was everyone acting like nothing had happened? Like Prem breaking up with him wasn't the end of the world?

Even Fluke—why would he think putting him and Prem in the same room was okay? And Prem... how could Prem stay so calm, tucking Bew in as if their lives hadn't fallen apart?

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His eyes looked hollow. "Maybe my pain doesn't matter anymore," he whispered to no one.

A knock came at the door. He opened it hesitantly. Prem stood there, avoiding his gaze, holding a small paper bag. "Fluke's secretary brought us some clothes," Prem said quietly.

"Thanks." Boun took the bag, their fingers brushing briefly, but Prem pulled back almost instantly.

When Boun finally came out, changed into a soft T-shirt, the room was dim. Prem was still awake, carefully changing Bew into more comfortable clothes. Bew's tiny hands flopped loosely as Prem worked around him.

Boun silently moved closer, kneeling to help. Their hands brushed again when they reached for the same sleeve. Neither spoke. The quiet stretched.

When they were done, Prem folded the used clothes neatly. "I will wash them when we get home," he murmured.

Boun only hummed in response. The silence was suffocating.

Finally, Prem cleared his throat, eyes still on Bew. "Would it be alright if I took Bew next weekend? Since Sammy is giving birth, my parents are coming over... they would love to spend some time with him."

Boun's heart tightened. He could hear the hope hidden behind Prem's soft voice—the wish to stay connected, even through Bew. But he couldn't allow it.

"No," Boun said flatly.

Prem's head jerked up. "What?"

"I said no," Boun repeated, his tone calm but firm. "I already explained to Bew that we are not together anymore. He's... smart for his age. He understood. It wouldn't be right to give him false hope."

Prem's throat went dry. "Hia—"

"Don't," Boun interrupted. "Don't confuse him. Don't call. Don't come around. It will just make things harder for him... and for me."

His voice cracked slightly on the last words, but he held himself steady.

Prem's chest ached. Every word cut deeper than he expected. "You don't have to be so hostile," he said quietly. "We can still be civil. We will have to work together anyway—"

Boun's eyes flashed. "No, we won't."

Prem frowned. "What? What do you mean?"

"I already talked to P' Ton and Sammy," Boun said. "I told them I am backing out from all our joint projects. The commercials, the fan meets—all of it."

Prem stared, stunned. "You... you are quitting?"

"I just don't want to work beside you," Boun's tone was steady but his hands trembled. "Call me unprofessional if you want. I can't stand there pretending like nothing happened. Not in front of cameras. Not in front of people who think we are still happy."

"Hia—"

"I will pay the penalties," Boun continued, cutting him off again. "All of it. Even your share."

Prem blinked in disbelief. 

"Sammy told me that you are financially struggling. I don't know you could be struggling finacially that you wouldn't be able to cough up enough money for the penalty. But don't worry," Boun's words came out harsher than he meant. "I will handle it."

The silence that followed was deafening.

Prem bit his lip, looking away. He wanted to scream—to tell Boun that he wasn't broke because he was irresponsible. That he had spent nearly everything designing their wedding rings—rings they would never wear. But the words caught in his throat. It would sound pathetic now.

Boun wasn't finished. "This will be the last time you will see Bew," he said, voice low but firm. "He is only three. He will forget you soon enough. And maybe... maybe you will forget us too."

Prem swallowed hard, tears stinging his eyes. "You are cruel, Hia," he whispered.

Boun's lips trembled. "Maybe," he said. "But this is the only way I know how to stop hurting."

There was nothing left to say. Bew stirred between them, sighing softly in his sleep.

Prem lay down on one side of the bed, facing the child. Boun turned to the other side, facing away. The dim light from the desk lamp painted faint shadows across the room.

In the silence, two hearts broke all over again—quietly, painfully, side by side.

Prem's eyes lingered on Bew's small face. "Goodnight," he whispered, though he wasn't sure to whom.

Boun closed his eyes, pretending to be asleep. But behind his lids, tears burned hot and relentless, the kind that wouldn't fall.

Both men lay there, motionless, listening to the sound of Bew's soft breathing—each wishing the night would end, and dreading that it eventually would.