Sand's of Time

Shattered Memories

Sand couldn't tear his eyes away from his whiskey glass at the bar as Akk headed for the exit. He ignored the concerned text from his half-brother Yok lighting up his phone - asking if something was wrong, after seeing the tension in his body after meeting Akk. Yok was just across the bar with his boyfriend Aye but he was looking at him questioningly. Two years of suddenly having an older brother meant two years of unexpected protectiveness that Sand still wasn't used to. They were even barely a year apart.

The drink wasn't helping anymore - nothing was. He found himself getting up and following Akk outside, keeping his distance but unable to stop himself from watching.

The way Ray melted into Akk's embrace made Sand's chest constrict painfully. Every gentle touch between them was like a reminder of what could have been - what should have been his if he hadn't let his fears win. The memory of Ray's infectious laugh, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he was truly happy - it all felt like shards of glass in Sand's heart now.

Watching Akk help Ray into the BMW was torture, but Sand couldn't look away. Even something as simple as buckling Ray's seatbelt looked intimate, charged with the kind of casual tenderness that Ray had always craved. Sand remembered how Ray would light up at the smallest gestures of care, flushing prettily and flirting shamelessly whenever someone showed him this kind of attention. Now those smiles belonged to someone else.

Boeing had seemed like the perfect escape when he showed up offering Sand the lead vocalist position. The familiar pattern they fell into was comfortable, if not fulfilling - late-night calls, meaningless hookups that left Sand feeling emptier than before. Boeing's persistence should have been flattering, but it only highlighted how wrong everything felt. Every kiss tasted like regret, every touch a reminder that these weren't the hands Sand wanted on him.

The texts kept coming - Yok's worry evident in every message, then their father Arthit with his carefully worded dinner invitation. Two years wasn't nearly enough time to reconcile growing up with just his mom's love to suddenly have a wealthy father and a half-brother. The revelation after his father's wife's death had shattered everyone's worlds - two sons from Arthit's wild youth, discovering they weren't the only ones their father had left behind. The weight of unspoken words and missed years hung between them all like a heavy curtain.

A few months into his thing with Boeing, Sand knew he'd screwed up. Boeing wasn't what he wanted - had never been what he wanted - but Sand had always sucked at endings, that is why it is always him who gets left behind.

The night air whipped past him as his Ducati roared through Bangkok's streets. His helmet sat forgotten back at the bar - another bad decision in a night full of them. The city lights blurred into streaks of neon, matching the chaos in his head. The responsible voice in his mind - the one that used to lecture Ray about drunk driving - was drowning in whiskey and heartache.

The headlights came out of nowhere - two blazing orbs cutting through the night. Sand barely registered the screech of brakes and blaring horns before everything happened at once: the violent swerve of his bike, the sensation of flying, the brutal impact. Then the world went black.

When he came to, everything hurt. His eyes opened to bright fluorescent lights and white walls. There was a steady beeping sound somewhere - a heart monitor, he thought, though he wasn't sure how he knew that. The sharp smell of disinfectant filled his nose as confusion set in. What happened? Why was he here? The fluorescent lights above him were too bright, too harsh, making his head pound with each attempt to focus.

Gaipa's voice cut through the fog - warm and steady like a lifeline. Sand tried to turn toward it, but his body felt wrong, disconnected. The simple act of speaking felt like pushing words through sand, his throat raw and unfamiliar.