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"Hi Ten," Kun kneels in front of the tomb. He carefully traces Ten's name on the stone slab with his index finger.
Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul . Kun chuckles lightly at this. Kun knows that Ten might be cursing him wherever he is when he specifically instructed not to use his "long-ass" Thai name (Ten's words, not his). But how could Kun say no to his parent's wishes?
Kun takes a deep breath, "You know, I hoped that the rain could wash away everything. The sadness. The pain. The love."
"I hoped that after years and years, one day—one day, I'll wake up without the squeezing in my chest. Without the feeling like I would break into a million pieces. I hoped the day would come that I'd forget everything. But, it never came. No matter how hard I prayed for it, it never did." Kun bites back the tears that are about to fall. How many times has he cried in front of Ten? He wasn't sure. But if he were physically there, Ten would have placed his warm hands on his cheek and thumbed the tears away, adding a little joke to the mix.
"Every day, I miss you a little less. But I still miss you, nonetheless. There were days when I thought I already forgot about you, but then the night falls, and the memories come flooding in. I thought I didn't love you anymore; then something reminds me that I still do, so much more than the previous day."
"Ten, how can I do this without you?" The tears he's been holding back flood like a broken dam. Kun closes his eyes and holds onto his shirt as he tries to stabilize his wobbling legs.
No matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to work. The pain kept on lingering. Disappearing slightly when he doesn't notice but comes shooting once again at a trigger. Ten never left his mind, his heart. Ten was and is a part of his soul that if he tried to remove him altogether, he would die.
At some point, he thought about it too.
What if it was him instead of Ten? What if his treatment never worked? Maybe they'd still be together. Somewhere unknown but together, at least.
But in Kun's lowest, another light found him. A smaller, less bright star but still was able to lead him out of the darkness.
A hand gently wipes his cheek, making Kun open his eyes once again. A figure stood in front of him with a smile that always brought him warmth and comfort. He saw Ten right there with his hair dishevelled from the summer breeze.
But Kun knew. So he blinks away the tears, and lets reality unfold.
"Dad, don't cry," The tiny voice said in a soft voice before embracing the crying man the best that she could, "Pa wouldn't like that."
"You both were left by the people you loved the most, but they made sure you'd find each other," that's what Kun and Ten's parents told him the day he brought her back from the orphanage. Yang.
"You're right. Pa wouldn't like that," Kun caresses the little girl's hair with a smile, "Have you said 'Hi' to Pa?"
Yang releases the embrace and shakes her head, "Not yet. I want to tell him the happy news when you're happy too." The genuineness in her voice makes Kun want to cry again, but he stops himself. So he smiles and holds her hand tight.
"Go on. Tell Pa the good news." Kun leads her to face the opposite direction, back to Ten's tombstone.
The little girl starts to gush over her achievements, things she's been doing lately. She tells Ten everything like he was there, "...And you know what? Dad told me Pa liked art! I wanted to try making beautiful ones like the ones you made because they always make Dad happy. I thought I could make him happy with the ones I make too."
Another thing that Kun also knew is that the pain would never go away because that only means you truly loved—love someone. It will remind you that they might be gone but never forgotten. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean you would never move on. In your darkest, you would see the faintest light. The light that will guide you alongside the pain, and you'll find your way back again.
"Thank you for bringing us together, my sun."