Four weeks of sterile white walls and the smell of antiseptic had finally come to an end. As promised, Santichai was discharged into KK's care. KK had insisted on giving up the master bedroom, ensuring Santichai had the easiest access to the bathroom during his recovery, while KK moved his own belongings into the guest room.
Santichai sat on the edge of the large, comfortable bed, watching KK's broad shoulders move as he meticulously hung Santichai's meager wardrobe in the expansive closet. The sight triggered a memory of a decade ago—the day he and Asnee had moved into their apartment. That first taste of shared life had felt like a feast. He had decided then that Asnee was his forever, unaware that the feast would slowly turn into a starvation of the soul.
"I just got an email," Santichai said, breaking the silence. "I passed the test. HR is finalizing my study. I need to go to the clinic to sign the contract."
KK paused his work. "What time? I can drop you off." When Santichai didn't answer immediately, KK turned. He saw the distant look in the younger man's eyes—a look he knew too well. He walked over and sat beside him on the mattress. "Santichai, are you thinking about him?"
"I'm thinking... if happiness happens suddenly, will it suddenly disappear?"
"Only if you suddenly want it to go away," KK said softly.
Santichai chuckled, a hollow sound. "I don't believe it."
"I'm not talking about him and you," KK clarified, his voice grounding. "I'm talking about you and me."
Santichai looked at the man beside him—the man who had paid for his surgery, held his hand through the dark, and was now clearing a space in his own home for him. "KK, thank you. You are so good to me. I must have done something truly good in a past life to meet someone like you."
KK chuckled. "You could call it fate."
"Fate?"
"Think about it," KK said. "We were two strangers who didn't even know the other existed. Yet, at the lowest points in our lives, the world brought us together."
Santichai watched him return to the closet. He felt a sudden, sharp fear—a fear of addiction. KK was a gourmet meal after a lifetime of hunger, and Santichai was terrified that once he became used to this "flavor," the plate would be snatched away.
"KK," Santichai said.
"Huh?"
"I don't believe in fate."
KK stopped, turning back to him with an intrigued smile. "Why not?"
"If there was fate, I wouldn't be here talking to you. My life has never felt like it was guided by anything good."
KK walked back and sat down, his expression turning serious yet tender. He knew it was time to bridge the gap between their histories. "I'll tell you a story," he said. "After you listen, you can judge for yourself whether fate exists."
"What's the story?" Santichai asked, leaning in.
KK took a deep breath. "It's a story about a rainy night, a high railing, and the taste of salt."
KK let out a soft, dry chuckle. "Once upon a time," he began, his voice dropping an octave, "there was a boy who grew up believing he was ugly and unwanted. He was bullied from the day he started school. He survived only because he knew his parents and grandparents loved him, but he lived a very solitary life. He didn't have a single friend."
He looked out the window, lost in the memory. "When he got to college, his grandparents passed away. They left him everything. Suddenly, this boy—who was still young and very lonely—had a fortune. And that wealth brought out the vultures. He was so desperate for connection that he didn't see them for what they were. He fell in love with the fast life, the bright lights, and the 'friends' who only liked his bank account."
KK laughed, though there was no humor in it. "He even found the courage to ask out the most popular girl on campus. When she said yes, he thought his life had finally begun. He was so deeply in love that, after years of dating, he decided to propose."
He went silent for a long time, the only sound in the room being the hum of crashing waves.
"She rejected him?" Santichai whispered, sensing the answer.
"Worse," KK said. "She told him she'd only stayed because of his money. She told him she had never loved him—that she couldn't love someone who looked like him. All those old wounds from his childhood just... ripped wide open. He had a total breakdown. He decided he was done. He took a handful of pills, hoping to never wake up."
Santichai's heart sank. He looked at KK with wide, pained eyes. "KK... why? Why did you think that would solve anything?"
KK let out a bitter, cynical scoff. "You've never thought about it? Not even once?"
Santichai shook his head slowly. "Not once. I have faced so many rejections, so many cold nights... but I never wanted to die." He reached out, his movements slow and careful, and wrapped his arms around KK's waist, pulling him close. "Even the smallest creature clings to life. My mother always told me that the Buddha taught us to cherish existence. To kill is a sin, but to kill yourself is the greatest sorrow of all, because you leave your parents to drown in your tears."
KK turned and kissed Santichai's forehead, his breath hitching. "I learned that the hard way," he murmured. "My mother... she found me. She slapped me so hard I thought my jaw would break. That slap was what finally woke me up."
"I'm so glad you woke up," Santichai said, resting his head gently on KK's shoulder, his heart full. "Thank you for being here. For picking me up when I was at my lowest. Thank you for everything."
KK turned his head, his lips lingering against Santichai's skin. "No need to thank me, Chai. Everything good that is happening now... it all started with a single tear."
Santichai smiled softly against KK's shirt. "Now that you're here by my side, every tear I ever shed feels worth it."
"Don't sit up too long," KK said, his protective nature returning. "Lie down. I'll get you something to eat so you can take your meds."
"Mmm," Santichai hummed, finally feeling at peace.
The first night at KK's house was fitful; every time Santichai shifted in his sleep, the sharp pull of the stitches in his back jolted him awake. Yet, even with the discomfort, there was a profound peace here. Waking to the rhythmic pulse of the ocean instead of the sterile, persistent beep of a heart monitor made the pain feel almost insignificant.
Unable to stay in bed any longer, he rose carefully and slipped out of the bedroom. He made his way to the living room, where a large window overlooked the coast. He stood there for a long time, watching the first rays of the morning sun hit the water, turning the surface of the sea into a shimmering field of millions of diamonds.
Back in the bedroom, the silence finally registered with KK. He reached out in his sleep, his hand meeting only cold sheets. A flash of panic flared in his chest—a lingering reflex from the hospital—and he scrambled out of bed. He hurried into the living room, his breath catching as he found Santichai.
There he was, standing silhouetted against the glass, his pale skin bathed in the soft, golden glow of the dawn.
KK stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Santichai's waist and pulling him into a gentle embrace. He pressed a kiss to the back of his head. "What are you doing up so early?" he murmured.
"My back is throbbing," Santichai admitted quietly. "I couldn't lie down anymore."
KK squeezed him gently. "In that case, let's head down to the beach. We can watch the sunrise together and count it as your morning physical therapy."
At the door, KK knelt to slide Santichai's sandals onto his feet—a small gesture that made Santichai's heart swell. They walked slowly toward the shore, just a few hundred yards from the house with the sand crunching under their feet and the rhythm of the waves ringing in the ears. The sun was beginning to peek over the horizon, painting the sea in shades of pink and orange. After twenty minutes of walking along the tide line, however, Santichai's pace began to falter. KK could see the slight wince in his stride.
"That's enough for today," KK said firmly. "We can try for longer another time."
"My back is really starting to catch," Santichai sighed, glancing around. "Let's just sit here for a while."
KK shook his head with a small smile. "It'll be even harder to get back up if you let those muscles stiffen now." He turned his back to Santichai and crouched down. "Come on. I'm carrying you the rest of the way."
Santichai stared at him, eyes wide. "You're not serious, are you?"
KK looked back over his shoulder, his expression steady. "Completely serious."
Santichai looked at the stretch of sand between them and the house. "KK, it's a long walk. I'm not exactly light."
"It'll be fine," KK insisted. "I've got you."
With a hesitant smile, Santichai leaned forward and climbed onto KK's back. KK stood up carefully, adjusting his grip on Santichai's legs before beginning the slow trek back toward the house.
"Am I heavy?" Santichai whispered into his ear.
"No," KK replied without hesitation.
"If you get tired, tell me. I can try to walk a bit further," Santichai promised.
KK chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. "You aren't heavy at all, Chai. I could carry you for the rest of my life if you'd let me."
Santichai tightened his arms around KK's neck, burying his face in the crook of his shoulder. The scent of the salt air and KK's skin filled his senses. "If this is a dream," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the side of KK's neck, "then I never want to wake up again."
KK's grip tightened just a fraction, his smile widening as he looked out at the sea. "Me neither."