Chapter Text
Namping couldn’t process what Keng was saying.
“What?”
“It might sound crazy,” Keng rushed, “I know it does, but… it’s the truth,” he sighed.
He recalled his grandfather’s words in the very same garden from a few days ago, “The truth,” he started, “Have you ever spoken the truth, dear?”
“The truth?” Keng repeated.
“A true ruler’s priorities lie behind the honest intentions he upholds for his subjects.”
“Honest… intentions?”
“Talk it out… There’s nothing easier than talking for a man,” Kittisak softly smiled, “Some liquid courage might as well help,” he laughed while tending to his flowers.
“Do you want to give more excuses or are we done just like ten years ago?” Namping asked, sarcasm flooding his words.
“I know these sound like excuses to you, Ping— but… they’re not–”
“Then what are you implying?”
Keng stiffened.
Because what is he implying?
He didn’t know.
The truth. Keng thought.
As much as he tried to come up with an answer, the truth resided within himself.
And he realised it far too late.
“I lied to you ten years ago…” he quietly said, his eyes falling to the ground, fingers slowly releasing Namping’s.
The truth. It rang a constant beat in his head.
“Why are you bringing this up now?” Namping called out, “We’ve buried it for too long to dig it up and reminisce about the past now.”
Keng looked up immediately, “I liked you— ten years ago in the garden, the kiss, the song… It was all you…”
Silence was all Namping could offer.
He stared at him.
Then he laughed.
Not because it was funny.
But because it hurt.
“Don’t.”
His voice cracked.
“Ping–”
“Don’t do that,” Namping repeated, “Not now.”
Every memory he had spent ten years burying resurfaced.
The garden.
The song.
The warmth of Keng's smile.
The kiss.
And the rejection that followed.
“You don’t get to say things like that after ten years.”
“Ping–”
“Then why?” Namping swallowed, holding back his tears, “Why did you leave?”
“Leaving wasn’t a part of the plan, Ping…” Keng explained, “It was out of the blue– my parents suddenly told me to study in London, and as much as I tried to rebel or disobey— it didn’t work because somehow I still ended up in London.”
Namping couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “Of course,” Namping laughed bitterly, “What else did I expect?”
He shook his head, dismissing Keng, “I’ll take my leave now, Your Highness,” Namping said.
‘Your Highness’ the form of address pierced straight through Keng’s heart.
The title sounded foreign on Namping’s tongue.
Far colder than P’Keng.
And far safer too.
-
Namping walked past the garden, halls, offices, rooms– whatever that stood in front of him— he rushed through it all, entering an empty drawing room, quietly sniffling to himself.
He let the tears he was holding onto for the longest time out.
Why does P’Keng think that confessing now would alter anything?
Keng was left appalled.
Silence crowded his senses as it all came daunting upon him.
He’d lost the final chance of explaining everything to Namping.
Lost his chance of redeeming himself.
Lost his chance of being the reason behind Namping’s smile.
And perhaps–
He’d lost Namping.
The boy he loved since he was a kid.
His knees went weak, trembling— barely making it past a few steps before they gave out.
Thud.
His knees made contact with the cold tiles of the pavilion.
“Your Highness—” he could hear Ohm calling him out, rushing to hold onto the prince who was now no more than just a man who’d been rejected by his love.
“Ohm… what should I do now?” Keng sullenly asked, his eyes never leaving the ground.
A single tear broke free.
-
“Namping, dear,” a soft voice called out, “Are you okay?”
Namping looked up, quickly wiping his eyes, it was none other than P’Keng’s mother, Kannika, approaching him.
“Mother…” Namping let out, voice cracking in between, his throat dry.
“Namping… what happened?” she asked, taking a seat beside him.
“Oh… that’s nothing… I just… fell,” he came up.
“You fell? Where? Are you hurt somewhere?” Kannika scanned him to see any visible injuries.
“No… I’m fine now… It was hurting a bit earlier, but now I’m okay,” Namping smiled, eyes and nose red from the crying earlier.
“Let me call the Royal Physician, in case there’s any prevailing illness,” she rushed.
“Mother– it’s fine, I’m now,” Namping said, his voice stern, “Really.”
“I can’t let you fall sick…” Kannika let out, “Not after it took Keng so long to find you again.”
The latter a whisper— barely audible, only the word Keng decipherable to Namping who sat right beside.
“Huh? What do you mean?” he asked, his interest piqued at the mention of Keng.
Silence.
Kannika didn’t respond.
No— she couldn’t respond.
She relived every moment with Keng in the past ten years.
And words she wanted to say were stuck in her throat.
“Mother?” Namping called, “Is… everything okay?”
Kannika abruptly caught Namping’s palms under her own.
“Namping… don’t hate Keng too much,” she said, more requesting than ordering, “I’m not saying this as his mother… but… as someone who knows what he’s been through.”
She sighed, eyes unable to meet Namping’s.
“Mother… I’m afraid I don’t understand where this is coming from.”
“It was when Keng was twelve years old,” she started.
Ten Years Ago
Keng still buzzed with a fuzzy feeling in his chest.
He had just kissed Namping.
Namping who was his best friend.
No—
Namping who was more than his best friend.
The person his heart always found its way back to.
He was sure what he felt towards Namping was nothing less than what he felt towards his parents.
The giddiness resided in him.
The subtle feeling of Namping’s lips on his never subsiding even after hours passed.
Staring at the ceiling of his chambers, mind never leaving the garden— he stayed there for what felt like hours.
“Keng, dear, what is it? Why are you so out of it?” His parents had asked, worried, at dinner.
But Keng couldn’t respond.
How could he tell them it was because he kissed the boy he had been crushing on?
He shook his head, “Nothing, father, mother… I think I had a lot of cookies earlier.”
He had lied.
Not because he wanted to…
But because he wasn’t ready to.
After long hours of replaying the exact same scenario, sleep had embraced him softly— Keng fell asleep, hugging his rabbit stuffed toy.
He slept soundly.
Dreaming of the garden.
Dreaming of Namping.
Dreaming of the song.
And the knocks continued.
Soft and patient.
Someone was waiting for the prince to fall asleep.
The minute clanking sounds.
The subtle footsteps that failed to cause the perfect floor boards to creak.
He had slept through it all.
A hand covers his mouth.
His eyes flew open.
And the last thing he remembered… was struggling to breathe.
Darkness followed.
Keng had been kidnapped.
-
“Mother…”
“We found him weeks later… he was so… frail,” she choked, “So… thin… barely able to walk…”
Namping immediately embraced her, patting her back as she continued to cry in his arms.
“It’s fine… It’s fine…” he recited, “It’s all passed now… Keng is fine.”
“We hospitalised him immediately… and he woke up a few days later– blunt force trauma, they said,” she said, her voice cracking, “He had forgotten everything…”
Namping’s eyes dilated, mouth slightly parting.
“Wh-what do you mean?
“Yeah… He forgot what had happened that year completely—”
“Everything?” Namping asked, his lips turning into a frown.
Kannika nodded.
“Everything.”
The garden.
The kiss.
And Namping.
“Who was behind this all?”
Kannika looked away.
“We… we were never able to prove it…”
“Is this why P’Keng went to study in the UK?”
“We couldn’t guarantee his safety here…”
Namping couldn’t breathe.
His throat tightened.
The apology escaped before he could stop it.
“Mother… I am so sorry…”
“Sorry for what, dear? You didn’t do anything wrong…”
“I misunderstood… I thought… No…” Namping wavered, his hands shaking a little as he brought it up to his face.
P’Keng never left him.
No.
He was the one who left P’Keng.
“Misunderstood? What are you talking about, dear?” Kannika asked, confusion evident.
Go.
Find him.
Before he’s gone again.
A voice inside him spoke.
“Mother… I need to see P’Keng…”
Kannika searched Namping’s face.
And for the first time since the wedding, she saw urgency instead of resignation.