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It hurt. Everything hurt. His head, his heart, his fists, his eyes. It all burned.
Not much had changed for Prapai in the days following the worst night of his life. And he’s not sure he’ll ever experience a night worse than that. At least he hoped he never had to. There were so many emotions that night, most of them he’d rather never feel again.
The soul-crushing worry. The all-consuming rage.
The guilt. The hurt. The pain. The stress.
Over the days Prapai had had time to think, and he was unsure if he’d ever truly felt all those negative emotions before. Sure, he’d been frustrated about losing a race, he’d been hurt both physically and emotionally before, he’d worried. None of it even came close to what he felt that night.
All of it boiled down to Sky.
His beautiful, wonderful, sassy, sarcastic, witty, brave Sky. The one he’d tried so hard to forget about at first, and then tried so hard to pursue when he gave on forgetting. It had taken effort to get Sky to open up, to let Prapai be by his side. Effort Prapai had never given any lover before. There had just been something special about Sky from the very moment he saw him.
Prapai would always be grateful that Sky allowed him to be annoyingly clingy, that Sky let him put in the work and made Prapai earn a place in Sky’s life. Sky had made his life all the better by just existing in it.
With all the cards on the table, Prapai marvelled at Sky even more.
The boy who had gone through so much, who had been so deeply hurt. He still managed to get up every day, go to school and excel at it, have close bonds with friends, and be so strong. Prapai wondered if he’d been able to get out of bed at all had it been him.
He re-lived the night over and over. Sometimes by choice, sometimes by accident. He analysed every single interaction leading up to the final moment, wondering where he should have understood what was going on, when he should have realised that something was wrong, what he could have said or done differently to unmake the night. If he’d just been a little smarter, trusted strangers a little less, trusted Phayu a little more, listened closer, observed more, been faster. If he’d been better, Sky wouldn’t have been put in that situation. He wouldn’t have had to live through his worst nightmare – again. He had tried to stay strong for Sky that night, tried to push away his own feelings and focus on Sky, let his baby process and do what felt right for him, but it had been so hard.
Every instinct in his body had screamed to hold Sky as tightly as possible, merge them into one person. He had wanted to shout and cry and punch everything (punch Gun, the bastard). He had wanted to rip the bed apart, break the furniture, burn the place down.
What once had been one of Prapai’s favorite places had been tainted in the worst possible way.
He had entertained the idea of making the condo his and Sky’s. They’d get new furniture to suit them both, get art, a desk for Sky to work, get actual kitchen supplies to have a functioning kitchen. They’d made a life together in the place where they had shared memories (although Sky’s dorm would have been even better, it was less optimal for the space and the fact that it wasn’t a permanent residence). Then Gun had thrown all of that in his face.
The condo aside, Gun had ruined so much more. He had been the one to make Sky doubt himself, made one of the best people Prapai knew think he wasn’t worth anything. It made his skin crawl and his blood boil to know that he had most likely been on friendly terms with the snake while he was actively making Sky go through hell. He’d been a part of the circle that made Gun feel invincible. It made Prapai want to throw up to know he had in even the smallest way been part of it.
Prapai had spent more nights awake than asleep since the event, watching over Sky as the younger slept, unable to take his eyes off him. A part of him dreaded going to sleep. If he fell asleep, he would dream about that night. He would dream he was too late. He would dream that Sky had been brainwashed into going with Gun after all. He would dream that Sky never recovered from it, remaining catatonic.
So Prapai stayed awake, running light hands over whatever part of Sky was closest, watching Sky’s slow breathing. If Sky even twitched, Prapai was there to soothe him, whisper comforting words. Usually Sky settled in moments, never coming close to waking up.
It made Prapai feel useful.
During the days, he felt more helpless than anything else. He couldn’t do anything for Sky when the other was awake, Sky wouldn’t let him. Yes, Sky would allow Prapai to hold his hand, let Prapai feed him, let Prapai be his personal chauffeur. But all those things were for Prapai’s benefit. They weren’t for Sky’s. Sky was too independent, would rather not hold hands, would get food by himself, get places by himself. It was Prapai that needed to do those things for Sky, and Sky let him.
Prapai wondered sometimes what Sky saw when he looked at Prapai. Did he see a playboy who picked up a lost soul and took advantage? Did he see a clingy nuisance who couldn’t function by himself? Did he see a failure? All of it was true, but Prapai could never tell what Sky thought.
In weak moments, Prapai deliberated if he should just cut himself out of Sky’s life.
It would probably benefit Sky more to let that part of his life go. If he wasn’t with Prapai, he wouldn’t have to think about that lifestyle, the lifestyle that had been so detriment to his psychological wellbeing. He would only be loosely connected to it through Rain. And even then, he wouldn’t have to be exposed to it since Phayu never actually raced.
Prapai was too selfish to consider it for long. He needed Sky. Sky didn’t need him, but he needed Sky.
It hurt. Everything hurt. His head, his heart, his fists, his eyes. It all burned.
His head hurt from thinking too much. He didn’t want to think. He wanted to just be.
His heart hurt from worrying so much. He ached for Sky. He wanted to take all of Sky’s pain and suffering and put it into himself. He didn’t need to be happy all the time, as long as Sky was.
His fists hurt from punching walls and the gym’s sandbags. It was his only release in lieu of finding whatever remained of Gun after P’ Chai had gotten a hold of him. The anger and frustration needed somewhere to go and he was too unstable to get on a bike.
His eyes hurt from trying to keep the tears back. He wouldn’t cry, couldn’t let himself cry. If he started to cry, Prapai wasn’t so sure he’d ever stop. He’d let himself cry a few tears that night when Sky told his story, he hadn’t been able to stop them, but then Sky had been worried about him (silly boy), so Prapai had promised himself he wouldn’t cry.
Everything hurt, but Prapai pushed through. He would hurt forever if it meant he eased any of Sky’s worries. He could take the hurt instead of Sky.
As long as Sky was fine, Prapai could take anything.