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The wind tugged at Saint’s hair as the scooter cut through the late afternoon sun, weaving lazily through the quiet streets. Golden light spilled over the city like honey, and there was laughter in the air.
"The new toy Story is finally out." Saint said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the engine.
"We have to go next weekend. I already know you’ll cry again. You cried at Toy Story 3 when.."
"Ai’Saint! Stop talking and focus on driving." Shin groaned behind him.
Saint glanced back with a grin, tilting his head just enough to catch Shin’s pout and the way he had his arms loosely around Saint’s waist.
"How many times do I have to tell.. you don’t need to look at me to talk to me. Eyes on the road, idiot." Shin said, hitting Saint's head.
Saint laughed, loud and free, and turned back to the road. "But I need to see your face when I talk."
Shin muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like "Idiot" but he didn’t let go.
The scooter hummed along, everything around them is warm, full of teasing and routine and that unspoken feelings that lingered between them.
The morning light spilled through the windows, warm and quiet as Saint and his father sat at the small kitchen table, the smell of food filling the air.
His father cleared his throat. "Saint.. after breakfast, I need you to come with me. I’ve got some errands to run. Just a few things, shouldn’t take long."
Saint, who about to get up, stopped. "Can we do it later? I’ve gotta go pick Shin up. There’s a local football match today. He doesn’t want to miss that."
"You can do it later."
Saint blinked at him, confused. "But the match is this morning. How am I supposed to take him to see it later?"
He then stood, grabbing his keys, already heading for the door.
"I’ll do them later, okay? I promise."
"Be careful." His father called after him.
Saint waved a hand behind him, distracted. "I always am."
The next morning, Saint was still half-asleep, when his father entered the room.
"Come with me. We’re running those errands you skipped yesterday."
Saint groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Can it wait a bit?"
"No. You promised." His father’s tone was firmer than usual.
Saint blinked, surprised. He was about to argue again but stopped when he saw the look on his father’s face.. tired, serious.
"...Fine." Saint muttered, grabbing his shirt.
They took a cab.. Saint looked out the window the whole ride, puzzled by where they were heading.
But when the car pulled up in front of a small clinic, his chest tightened. He sat up straighter, eyes darting toward his father.
"Why are we here? Are you sick? Why didn’t you tell me?"
His father didn’t meet his eyes. "Come on."
He walked ahead, straight into the building, leaving Saint to follow in confused silence.
A receptionist looked up with a polite smile as his father approached the front desk, spoke quietly to her. She nodded and gestured toward the row of chairs.
Saint sat beside him, still tense. "Dad. What’s going on?"
His father just gave a vague, tired smile and said, "Just wait."
When the nurse stepped out and called, "Saint Thamnithit?" he blinked in surprise.
"Wait, me?"
His father stood. "Let's go."
Saint followed, confused, down a short hallway and into a softly lit room that smelled like flower and paper. A woman in her 40s sat behind a desk with warm eyes and a patient smile.
"Hello, Saint!" She said gently. "I’m Dr. Rachel. I’m a psychiatrist."
Saint’s heart thumped. He turned sharply to look at his father. "What the hell is this?"
"I’ll wait outside. Just talk with her." His father said quietly, avoiding his eyes.
He left before Saint could speak. The door clicked shut behind him.
Saint stood frozen, unsure whether to sit or run.
Dr. Rachel gestured calmly to the couch. "You can relax. This isn’t anything scary. I just want to talk."
Saint sat stiffly. "This is ridiculous."
She nodded. "Maybe for you. But your father’s worried about you. He says you’ve been seeing someone who isn’t there. Talking to someone no one else sees."
Saint stared at her, caught between disbelief and defense. "What? That’s.. I don’t!"
He shook his head. "I’m fine."
She didn’t press. Her voice stayed calm. "I believe you believe that. But can I ask you to try something for me?"
He hesitated.
"Just close your eyes. That’s all. You don’t even have to talk. Just.. breathe. And go back to that day. The day everything changed."
Saint’s hands clenched on his knees. He didn’t want to do this. But her voice was so gentle, so still, it was hard to resist.
He closed his eyes.
And it all came back..
The night was quiet and suffocating. The ambulance sped down the road, sirens screaming through the streets, the weight of grief already pressing on everyone inside.
Saint’s hands trembled as he held Shin close, blood soaking into his shirt. Shin’s breathing was shallow, every exhale weaker than the last.
"Stay with me.."
Saint whispered over and over. "Ai'Shin..I’m right here. Don’t..don’t close your eyes."
Shin’s eyes were closed, breathe uneven, no reply, nothing...
The waiting room was too bright, too cold. Saint sat hunched over in the corner, hands still stained red, blood drying on his skin, his shirt, his soul.
The doctors came out after what felt like hours. Shin’s mother was there. Their friends. Everyone. They all went still when the doctor appeared.
" I’m sorry. We did everything we could. The wound was too deep.. he lost too much blood."
Saint didn’t speak. He didn’t scream. He just stood there, staring past the doctor, as if maybe if he didn’t hear it then Shin would still be okay.
He turned and walked down the hallway without a word. His knees gave out outside the emergency doors, but no tears came. He just sat there, fingers twitching as if still holding Shin in them, trying to remember his warmth.
Saint opened his eyes slowly, lashes wet, a sharp ache blooming in his chest.
He wasn’t even aware he’d been crying until he felt the cold trails on his cheeks.
The room around him came back into focus.. softer, quieter than the storm inside him.
Dr. Rachel was still sitting calmly, her voice quiet, like someone tiptoeing through a broken place.
"Your father said.." She began gently. "That it’s been six months since Shin passed. And in all that time, he’s never seen you cry."
Saint stared ahead, silent.
"No tears. No breakdown. Just..quiet. Like if you didn’t acknowledge it, maybe it wouldn’t be real. I think that might be why you can’t accept he’s gone. Because your heart never got the chance to grieve. You kept moving around the pain. Talking to him. Living with him."
Her voice didn’t carry judgment. Only sadness.
Saint said nothing.
"Sometimes..when trauma is too much to bear, our minds protect us. They create places to keep the pain. People. Even ghosts." She said softly.
Saint’s hands were tight in his lap.
"..I don’t want to overwhelm you. We can take this slow. But I’d like to give you something.. some medication. It’s not to erase your memories. Just something to help you relax. To sleep a little easier. To calm the nerves that haven’t had a break since that day."
Saint nodded.
"I’ll see you again soon, Saint. We’ll take it one step at a time." She stood.
He stood up with her slowly, unsure how to move in his body again.
When he stepped out into the hallway, his father rose immediately from the waiting chair.
Dr. Rachel stepped out behind him and gave his father a gentle smile. "He’ll be fine. We can take it slow. Don’t worry."
Then she gave a prescription to his father.
Saint didn’t meet either of their eyes.
He said nothing the entire ride home. The taxi windows were fogged slightly, the world blurring past as if underwater. His father didn’t press. He only glanced at his son from time to time, the silence between them dense with worry.
When they reached home, Saint went straight to his room.
The door shut softly behind him.
He didn’t lie down. Didn’t turn the light on.. just sat at the edge of his bed, staring at nothing.
The medicine bag was in his hands.. His fingers curled around it tightly
The house was quiet. Too quiet.
And Saint waited, for that familiar voice. For that soft laugh. For the ghost he couldn’t let go of.
Because letting go.. meant living without Shin. And that was something he didn’t know how to do.
Then his father entered the room, sitting besides him.
"You’re not okay, Saint." His father said gently.
Saint didn’t look up.
"It’s been months. You haven’t moved on. You talk to him like he’s still here."
"Because he is." Saint said softly.
"Saint.." His father reached over, placing a hand over his.
" I know you loved him. I know he meant everything to you. But you need help. You need to heal. You need to let go."
Saint flinched.
"Let go? You want me to forget him?" His voice cracked.
"No. I want you to live." his father said, eyes damp.
"Shin wouldn’t want you like this. Staying with his memories. Not really living at all."
Saint stared at his hands, blank. He felt Shin’s presence behind him, soft breath, a hand on his shoulder.
He nodded to his father.
That night, Saint sat on the floor, back against the bed, holding an old photo of him and Shin arms over each other’s shoulders, laughing like fools.
"Everyone says I need help.. they think I’m sick and maybe I am." He murmured.
The room was quiet. Then.. Shin appeared.
Just like always. Sitting on the edge of the bed, wearing that same uniform.
"They say I’m hallucinating you. You aren't real."
Saint continued, staring down at the photo. "That I’m clinging to a ghost. That I need medication, therapy, closure. But they don’t get it."
He looked up, eyes rimmed red.
"If I take that medicine.. if I go to therapy and stop seeing you, then what’s left of me?"
Shin didn’t answer.
Saint blinked hard. "You’re the only thing that’s keep me going. I know you’re not really here. But if seeing you means I’m sick.."
His voice cracked. "Then let me stay sick."
He pressed the photo to his chest.
"I don't know how to live without you Shin. I want to keep seeing you. Even if it’s only in my head. Even if it means I’ll never be normal again. If getting better means losing you forever.. then I’d rather die than stop seeing you."
Saint stared at the pill bottle in his hand. His fingers gripped it tightly before he tossed it onto the trash bin.
He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, he whispered to the silence.
"Shin..."
And then, just like that, the familiar sound of Shin’s voice filled the air.
"You really going to throw that away?"
Saint’s heart skipped a beat, and his lips twitched into a small soft smile. There he was, the same teasing tone, the same sarcasm. It felt almost like nothing had changed.
Saint let out a soft chuckle, his chest tightening. "We still didn’t get to see Toy Story. Let's watch it tomorrow, Ai’Shin?"
And then Shin smiled. The smile that had always been there, the one that made everything feel like it could still be okay. The same smile, filled with warmth, with mischief. He was standing there, just like before, looking at him like everything was normal.
Some stories don’t have an end.
They stay.. unfinished, unresolved, and forever lingering in the hearts of those left behind.