The Art of What-If: A Drabble Collection

Left Behind (KS)

The day was set. Krist feels so excited. He feels invincible. He's clutching the official document in his hand, a folder with 20 pages. Formally collated and printed.

He goes home, straight to his room, and places the document on his desk.

Suddenly, he receives a series of notifications from his phone. His friends were messaging him. And they didn't look good.

He frowned in worry, sitting down on the side of his bed. Upon seeing the familiar name on his notifications, and the words accompanied by it, his heart sank.

Word travels fast around these days. And he knew, that when it comes from the people close to him, then it's something serious.

The worst-case scenario popped into his head, and suddenly, all thoughts about looking forward to the future vanished. Like... there was suddenly a cloud blocking it.

A future without... him.

He took a sharp inhale, holding it, and dialed the number that was number one on his contacts list.

Within a few rings, the other picked up.

"Hey, Krist. I'm about to eat lunch at home. What's up?"

"Is it true?" Krist's voice was hoarse. There was a silence that followed.

"...You heard?"

"What do you mean 'you heard?' You weren't going to tell me?" The rage bubbled up in his throat, but it wasn't against him.

"No. I was going to tell you, properly."

Krist clutched at his phone, held closely to his ear. He let out a breath, "Why?"

"...do you want to talk about this right now? You have an event tonight, we can talk after."

"No, please. I need to know."

The truth is, Krist knew something was off for a while. He's known Singto enough to notice that he always went silent when they talked about the company when they talked about future work.

It frustrates him to no end that they still couldn't make it work. He wanted to be with him all the time. He's sure it's normal, wanting to always be home.

Singto is home for him. And getting to go home for "work" is the best thing in life, but why does it always have to be fucked up. He just wanted to work with him on a series again, gain more endorsements, travel, and have fun!

Is that too much to ask?

So why? Why leave? Krist wanted to cry. He wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. Suddenly, home felt so far away.

There has to be a reason. P'Sing doesn't just make big decisions like this if nothing happens, maybe. Maybe something happened. He needs to ask. He just needs to ask this.

"Is... Is it me? Did I do something wrong? Because I can fix it! Just... tell me. I must have done something—"

"Krist Perawat, don't you dare."

Krist hiccups, the tears are already pooling, and his nose is getting stuffy. He could hear heavy breathing from Singto's end.

"I'm sorry."

"You didn't do anything wrong, you hear me? Krist."

Krist winced, he sounded livid. He looked down at his lap, and mumbled, "But I must have done something. P'Sing, you wouldn't just leave!"

"Let me get this to you perfectly clear, you did nothing wrong. This is not your fault. It was the safest decision for everyone."

"P'Sing. I don't... understand. Please."