Autumn is a second spring

135. Night at hospital 2

The doctor spoke calmly but firmly, his tone leaving little room for argument. He advised Ohm to keep his arm in the sling and bandaged for a few more days. "Don't strain it, no heavy lifting, no tedious exercises for now," he said, flipping through the medical chart before looking up. "You can start light hand exercises—simple movements—to regain mobility. If there is swelling, ice it immediately and keep it raised above heart level. Understood?"

Fluke nodded before Ohm could reply. "We will keep that in mind. Thank you, doctor."

Ohm mumbled a quiet "thanks" too, though his voice barely carried. He looked distracted—lost somewhere else entirely. Fluke noticed but said nothing as they stepped out of the consultation room together.

It was night. The hospital corridors were dimly lit, the overhead lights humming softly. Only a few people passed by, their footsteps echoing faintly on the polished floor. The stillness made every sound sharper—the shuffle of their shoes, the faint buzz of a ceiling fan, the soft creak of the elevator down the hall. Between them stretched a silence that felt far too loud.

They walked side by side without speaking until Ohm finally broke the silence. His voice was low, hesitant. "Fluke," he said, "I am... I am sorry."

Fluke didn't respond. He kept walking, his expression unreadable.

Ohm followed close behind, guilt weighing heavy on his chest. "I didn't know what came over me earlier," he said, his words tumbling out. "I shouldn't have done that. I know it was wrong—kissing you without your consent. I swear, it won't happen again. I just... I don't know what happened."

Still, Fluke said nothing. The elevator doors slid open with a chime, and Fluke stepped inside. Ohm followed, standing a careful distance away. The air between them was thick, awkward, almost suffocating. 

Ohm had never been the impulsive kind—he prided himself on his control—but tonight, he had crossed a line. He knew it. The guilt gnawed at him. It wasn't the first time he had wanted to kiss Fluke, but it was the first time he had acted on that urge, and now he loathed himself for it.

The elevator doors closed. The hum of machinery filled the quiet. Ohm stared at the floor, waiting for Fluke to say something, anything, but it was Fluke who broke the silence in a completely unexpected way.

"Is it okay if we grab something to eat first?" Fluke asked.

Ohm blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. "Uh... yeah," he said, nodding. It was so far from what he had expected that for a moment, he couldn't even think. They hadn't eaten since the concert ended—they had rushed straight to the hospital when Sammy's water broke. 

Ohm wasn't really hungry, not after all the snacking at the conert with Poom and Atom, but if it meant spending more time with Fluke, he wasn't going to refuse.

Fluke pressed the button for the top floor. The elevator started moving again, the silence settling once more. When they stepped out, Ohm immediately recognized where they were headed—the rooftop café. It was one of those quiet, 24-hour spots open mainly for hospital staff pulling night shifts. 

Ohm had been there a couple of times before during his stay in the hospital, once with Linlalin and twice with Poom. The night air was cool, and a faint breeze carried the scent of rain and disinfectant.

"Go take a seat, Phi," Fluke said. "I will get us something."

Ohm nodded and walked over to the outdoor seating area. It was mostly empty—just a few nurses chatting softly at a corner table. The garden stretched out in front of him, dotted with low lights and planters. Beyond the railing, the city glittered under the night sky. 

Ohm sat on a wooden bench, resting his bandaged arm carefully in the sling tied across his neck to restrict straining, and tried not to think too much.

Fluke returned a few minutes later, carrying two paper bags and a couple of drinks. He handed Ohm a chicken wrap and a cup of boba tea before sitting down beside him. "Here."

Ohm accepted it quietly. Fluke unwrapped his own meal—a wrap and an iced Americano—and took a large bite, his cheeks puffing up as he chewed. For a brief second, Ohm almost smiled. Something about the way Fluke ate—focused and unpretentious—felt so familiar, so endearing. It hurt to realize how much he had missed that sight without even knowing why.

He glanced at the coffee and frowned. "You are planning to stay up?"

Fluke nodded, still chewing. "Yeah. Someone should. Sammy is labour might have complications. I want to be around in case P' Ton needs help."

Ohm nodded slowly. He didn't say it out loud, but he admired that about Fluke—how he always put others first, even when he was clearly exhausted himself. Instead, he changed the subject.

 "Your performance tonight was amazing," he said softly. "You really... surprised me, Fluke. Your voice, your presence on stage—it was incredible." He hesitated, then added even more quietly, "You looked beautiful up there."

Fluke's hands stilled for a moment before he spoke. "Thanks," he said, but there was a heaviness in his tone. He stared out at the view, his expression distant. "It might be my last performance anyway."

Ohm frowned. "Your last?"

Fluke nodded. "I never thought that I would be performing anymore as I had given it all up when I let the agency. Guess I still had a day's performance left in my fate."

Silence again. The wind brushed past them, cool against their skin. Ohm could feel how fragile the moment was—how easily the conversation could slip into places neither of them were ready for—but he couldn't stop himself. "Is it really necessary?" he asked quietly. "I mean... to give up everything?"

Fluke didn't look at him. "It is."

Ohm leaned back, exhaling slowly. He stared at the lights below, thinking. "You know," he began, his voice rough, "even without my memories, I felt a connection to you. From the first time I saw you again. I just... wanted to reconnect. I never wanted to make you uncomfortable." He took a sip of his drink, the sweetness coating his throat. "When I said I wished I had died in that crash, I wasn't lying."

Fluke turned sharply toward him, his eyes wide. "P' Ohm—"

But Ohm just stared at the city lights, his expression hollow. "All my life," he said, "I wanted my parents to acknowledge me. Especially my mom. I thought if I worked hard enough, if I became the best, they would love me like they love Boun or Dream. But I see it now. No matter what I do, that won't change. Nothing will." He swallowed, the bitterness thick in his voice. "And I am tired of pretending. I don't want to be the perfect son anymore. I don't even want to act anymore. My acting career, my place in the entertainment industry—everything about it—started because I wanted her approval. And now, I don't want to be involved in it anymore. I just want out."

He looked at Fluke then, his eyes glistening. "You were the only light I had left. But the wedding is in less than two weeks, and after that, you will be gone. I don't know how to keep going after that."

Fluke's throat tightened. He wanted to say something, but words wouldn't come.