THE FAMILY TIES THAT BIND US (II).
The documents crumbled in Sarawat's hands with a crinkly noise as the young man clenched his fists, knuckles going white. He was furious. He was beyond livid as his eyes flashed in the gloomy study room of his family home, stacks of documents spread on the dark green, carpeted floor around him. These fucking bills and transactions statements were undoubtedly proof of his mother's guilt from where she had been trying to cover things up. Sarawat squinted harshly at the bold, Latin letters littering the document clutched in his hands. That had to be German.
God, he was so stupid, ignoring these documents the last time he had seen them. He should have at least run them through Google Translate or something, so much for his fucking eye for details. Had he had done that, then he would have stumbled on another manila folder innocently tucked away in the shelves, containing the two versions of the accident report, a correct one and a falsified one. It seemed that he was too blind to things he did not want to see, tired of all the corporate bullshit that his mother was incessantly pushing on to him. Tired of trying to fit in when all he ever wanted was to live his own life freely, unbound by outer expectations.
Ever since their family had stepped into the spotlight of top ten upcoming corporations, all eyes had been on Sarawat as the eldest heir to his mother's empire and she had not been too shy to exploit that and thus Sarawat had done everything to get out of the unwanted limelight, leaving Phukong behind. Leaving his little brother to fend for himself.
Sarawat raked a shaky hand though his messy hair, a heavy, labored breath escaping his lungs and hollowing his chest as his fluffy bangs flopped back over his forehead. His resolve was slowly crumbling. There was just so much emotional stress one could take, mind plagued by worry and body taut with tension. Would there ever be a silver lining to these stormy clouds?
His life had never been a shiny one, since Sarawat had a rather gloomy personality to start with but it had certainly taken a skydive for the worse. From going to having what he assumed was basically nothing, he was now about to lose everything, both his love and his family. Irrelevant of how unsatisfactory their relationship actually was, a family was still a family. However, the thought of helping his mother to cover the incident did not even filter through his mind, it was not even an option in Sarawat's eyes. Tine's current wellbeing was the only important thing on his mind right now and Sarawat would do everything possible to help his case, even if it meant revealing all these dirty, little secrets that his family might harbor.
Besides, fucking Type held the visiting rights to Tine over Sarawat's head until he could hand over some actual proof that the details of Tine's accident had been tampered with. The air ambulance from Germany was scheduled to land this evening and due to Tine's severe condition the city hospital where he would be set up at, wanted to keep him in intensive care where only family members were allowed. So the older man had proposed a deal to Sarawat. He had to find the incriminating proof of Tine being in the accident with Phukong and bring it to him, only then would he help Sarawat get an authorization slip to visit Tine. Sarawat hoped that Man knew what he was in for with his boyfriend being this cunning.
Arg. This whole situation was just so fucked up, except at the same time something pleasant but also dark curled in the pit of Sarawat's stomach at the fact that Tine had such a good brother. Sarawat could not blame Type for trying to protect Tine, if only he had felt as strong of a bond with Phukong then maybe none of this would have happened. A cold hand gripped at his heart mercilessly, almost making his knees buckle. Shit. But was it not a little too late to blame himself for everything now? It would certainly not help him with the current situation.
Type must had felt benevolent or something since he had proceeded to reveal that after Tine's accident and the plethora of neurosurgical procedures that soon followed, when the doctors had once again come out with somber looks on their faces, stating that Tine's condition was a though case, their parents had decided to seek for neurosurgical treatments abroad. A hospital in Germany had been interested to take on Tine's case and alleged that they would partially fund some of the medical expenses if they could use it as a study for research of a new treatment. Their family was nowhere near rich but they were well off enough to make the final decision of moving the four of them to another country, having some well sorted connections from all the traveling that they did in their jobs.
But then the medical expenses started to pile up on top of each other at an alarming rate. Not to mention that their mother quit her job so that she could spend more time sitting motionlessly at Tine's bedside, a hollow shell of the person that she once had been, regretting many choices in her life at the grim reality of losing her child. It had been a rather curious change for Type to witness as their parents had never concerned themselves with their kids this much before, he only wished that Tine had been there to see that. His little brother had always been the one that needed to be coddled a little bit more, to be loved just a tad bit more openly to feel safe and confident in his own skin, braving the world around him.
When the hospital bills reached an almost astronomic amount an anonymous donation had been swiftly made for continuous funding of Tine's treatment, perplexing everyone. Both curious and antagonized by the sudden help seemingly out of nowhere, Type had started to look deeper into things, reviewing all files and details about Tine's accident. Only to find out that the reported place of accident did not match with the last GPS location of his brother's cell phone, a glaring detail that had been openly ignored. Tine's last location had showed up as a dot on the map at a pedestrian crossing all the way on the other side of the city from the filed accident site, instantly linking everything to Sarawat's family. Takingto Tine's friends had only further confirmed that fact.
Mind filled with questions and determination, Sarawat stumbled out of his mother's study, still clutching the donation papers for Tine's medical treatment in his hand and steering his steps to his brother's room down the hall. It was time that they talked. As angry and as frustrated Sarawat was with his mother, he did not want to confront her until they had all the facts gathered, in case she would try to weasel her way out of it.
-----
Phukong stared at Sarawat from across the room with wide eyes, face pale and mouth slightly ajar as he tried to form coherent words.
"Phi," he finally breathed, nervously clenching and unclenching his fists in his lap, the swivel chair squeaked below his weight as he turned around. Sarawat had never really been interested in what had happened last year, too preoccupied with his own stupid life. Why now, when the dust had finally settled after all the therapy sessions that Phukong had to sit through?
"Fuck," Sarawat muttered under his breath and slowly sat down at the corner of Phukong's impeccably made bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. He put the documents next to him on the covers and tiredly rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes before looking up at his little brother that was sitting at his study desk, ever the model student. "Please tell me what happened," Sarawat said, almost whispered, big eyes soft as he looked at his spooked brother.
Phukong bit down on his lower lip, white teeth grazing at the raw skin and eyelashes fluttering as he looked down.
"Did mother say something to you?"
That fucking woman! Sarawat sneered inside his mind. She was both the life giver and the root of all evil, really.
"I- no," Sarawat replied carefully, trying to find the right words. "It's just that my friend is dating the brother of the boy that had been hurt in the accident. Did you know that, that someone was hurt?"
A wet breath hitched in Phukong's throat and he nodded with a muffled keel from holding back the sudden tears that prickled at his eyes. He could not decipher whether he felt so emotional because Sarawat was, for once, actually acknowledging his presence or because of the scar, which had been haphazardly mended by hours of therapy sessions, was now mercilessly ripping open inside of him.
"Yes," he whispered, not daring to look up in case he would find hate and repulsion swimming in his brother's dark eyes.
Ever since they were little Sarawat had been his hero, someone he had looked up to. Except it seemed that Sarawat never really bothered to look down to see who he was stepping on in his haste to search for the meaning of life, acting like a stuck up, pained artist when he in fact was just a spoiled brat.
"Is something wrong? Mother said that he was still recovering from the accident. I-I haven't been able to visit him yet but I do want to apologize. Sometime."
Phukong finally looked up, only to find that Sarawat's gaze on him was unreadable and frankly quite scary, sending icy shivers down his back. The older male huffed then, baring his sharp canines on an ugly sneer. Still recovering? What the hell. Phukong arched his brows silently, wide eyes warily tracking his brother's agitated movements.
"Yes, we should visit him together sometime," Sarawat mumbled offhandedly, eyebrows pinched severely, unsure whether he should reveal the full truth when their mother had obviously not been honest with Phukong and besides, his brother had a bewilderingly fragile reaction to this unfortunate topic that made Sarawat want to protect him. If anything, Phukong had always been a cheeky brat, eyes calculatingly sharp and spite on his tongue but it seemed that in the span of the year that they had barely interacted with each other something had changed. The accident had changed him. "Phukong, can you tell me what happened that day?"
Phukong swallowed dryly, thin lips parting and eyes blinking as one slim hand darted upwards to rub a his pale nape nervously.
"Honestly, I don't remember much. The snippets that I do have, they feel like-" His sharp eyes darted to his brother, the moment of his fragile state was already gone. "Don't be an asshole about it, okay? But it felt as if I was just a passenger in my own body, everything was like a hazy nightmare and I couldn't do anything to stop it," having said that, he laughed mirthlessly at it, voice sounding too shrill in the eerily quiet room.
Phukong still had nightmares about that strange feeling of losing control, afraid that he would one day open his eyes to something much more horrible than just crashing his brother's bike foolishly. It was a miracle that the other boy had survived, Phukong did not know what he would do if he had died. He had been in hospital for weeks himself, with a broken leg and broken ribs, almost puncturing his own lung. And he could count on one hand how many times Sarawat had visited him during that time, that fucking prick.
Sarawat nodded, the fluffy fringe sliding over his face as something scary swam in those bottomless orbs. His bow shaped lips twisted severely as he pinched his lips. Suddenly Sarawat stood up, rising to his full height and Phukong tracked his brash movement with his eyes calculatingly, tilting his head back to squint at his older brother.
"Thank you for sharing," Sarawat muttered, bangs obscuring his face. His mind was running mile a minute, overwhelming alarms blaring inside his head as he quietly left his brother's room.
What would Type do once he had all the incriminating documents? Would he file to reopen the case with Phukong's accident or would he accuse their mother of falsification? Shit. Now Sarawat certainty felt bothered, his heart thudding inside his chest, beating in worry over the fate of his stupid brother. Why the hell had he felt the need to act out like that, taking Sarawat's bike without letting anyone know?
Phukong was left with nothing but more questions as he glared at his brother's disappearing back. What had all of that been about? A bad premonition, or maybe even something else, scratched its cold fingers over his lower back, making him shiver.
Note:
Please don't hate Sarawat!