Chapter Text
“No” she uttered amidst the chaos of honking cars. Her gaze fixated on the scene ahead. She felt A realization stuck, and her ears ringing with the weight of it – The car, every detail etched into her mind.
She refused to think of it, but the more she watched, the more she saw.
The car – Fuck – she knew the moment she saw it. Pulling over, putting her car into park, quickly walking up to the scene of it all, blood. Red, the droplets of blood splattered. She stood frozen admis the chaos of cars, chest heaving with each breath. Strands of hair clung to her damp forehead, evidence of the tension radiating through her.
It won’t be like last, she told herself. Flashbacks at the hospital telling her about her older sister, the car, the impact, everything— she couldn’t breathe.
Tears filled her gaze; she hasn’t noticed an officer telling her to back off. She didn’t listen; everything muffled. The officer's words fell on deaf ears as Sam's gaze remained fixated on the blood-splattered car.
Her eyes darted in search of a familiar face, her breaths coming in short bursts, hands trembling slightly at her sides. An ambulance, police—yet no sign of anything, and it frustrated her. Walking past the officer without a second thought, she moved towards the area with more people, until she caught a glimpse of someone, her eyes widened with a mix of relief and worry as she finally caught sight of Tee seated next to an ambulance.
“Tee” a mumbled word past her lips, a whisper. “T-That’s” She stuttered out, “My friend,” loud enough for the officer who was standing in front of her, attempting to get her out of the scene. Her jaw clenched, and she tried to brush off the officer's attempts to pull her away, her stubbornness visible in the set of her shoulders.
She watched as held Tee held her head in her hands, her eyes shut tightly, almost shaking her head, seated next an ambulance. In her mind, if she could get to Tee, she needed to, to understand.
“Tee!” She yelled out, hoping to grab the women’s attention. “Ma’am you can meet them at the hospital….” The officers voice muffled after, she didn’t care; her friend was here, she could see Tee.
“Tee!” she yelled again; her heartbeat frantic to her ears. She was desperate for anything, relief washed over her when Tee looked up. Tee quickly got up, stumbled a little, Sam noticed. Tee walked quickly, pulling her into a hug. Her shock was palpable in Sam's rigid posture, but the tension eased as Tee's tears stained her shirt. Sam's arms wrapped tightly around Tee, an anchor in the storm of emotions.
“Mon” she whispered; her throat constricted. “Wh-where is she?” her thoughts racing, her frantic demeanor not lost.
She felt Tee shake her head on her shoulder “I’m sorry” a phrase repeated. Worryingly, she tried again “Please I need… i need to know.”
She knew in that moment, it would become real, if Tee told her.
“She… she,” she could hear tees voice, “The hospital, they went, they took her there, there was so much blood.” The words rushed, a bit confusing to understand, but it made sense to Sam. A pit of worry gnawed at her; she need to be by mon.
“Jim went to… Yuki is getting checked… I-I” Sam nodded numbly “Did you get checked?” Sam asked, she felt tee shake her head. “No..No Mon, Yuki, they, they needed to be first, they-” Sam shook her head “You could have a concussion, you gave scratches, blood” Sam told her walking her towards an ambulance.
Feeling frantic, she couldn't help but stay a little calm for Tee. She needed Tee to be okay too. Tee blinked, as if surprised—maybe she was, maybe the shock hadn't worn off.
Rushing to get Tee checked, Sam's movements were swift yet careful. Her eyes flickered with concern as she guided Tee towards the ambulance, her hand a steady reassurance on Tee's back.
After making sure to reassure Tee she would meet her at the hospital, She left quickly for the hospital.
At the hospital, Sam's features tightened with determination as she rushed the name “Kornkamon,” Sam rushed the name out to the doctor upon arrival. The doctor looked down, then back at Sam. “You are?”
“Her girlfriend,” Sam rushed out. Her eyes bore a mixture of fear and insistence, a reflection of the emotional storm raging within her.
“We’re sorry, we cannot give you, her information.” The doctor's refusal elicited a visible reaction from Sam. Her shoulders slumped slightly, and her hands clenched at her sides, frustration and worry etched across her face. The defeat was evident in the way her gaze dropped, momentarily unable to meet the doctor's eyes.
-
“We need a signature,” The man said in front of her. She stared at the crisp white hospital wall, her fingers tightly clenched. The creases on her disheveled clothes mirrored the turmoil within.
I can’t lose you.
“Let me sign,” she said, her voice strained, eyes locked onto the daunting legal document. His gaze flitted around the room, avoiding direct contact with her desperation. She wouldn’t be ignored.
I’ve faced everything to come back to you, but now, Mon, you need to come back to me.
“I’m sorry, but only a direct family member can sign,” he explained, a sympathetic tone attempting to soften the blow. She felt the weight of the words settle on her shoulders. The impersonal hum of hospital machinery surrounded them.
“What does that matter?” anger resonated in her voice and eyes. “I am her lover” Her declaration cut through the sterile air, a raw promise of commitment. She wasn’t asking for permission; she was staking a claim on the paper and on the person lying motionless in a bed about 10 feet away.
“I’m sorry” the man apologized giving her a sympathetic sigh. She didn’t want his sympathy. “We need her parents” he reiterated, as if invoking them would magically summon the missing signatures. She shut her eyes, blocking out the reality she refused to accept.
“What will happen if a signature cannot be given?” She asked him determinedly. “She lost a lot of blood, we need to do a blood transfusion, possibly surgery, but before that we need permission for consent for the medical procedure.”
“Please” A desperate attempt she knew was futile “Let me sign. I beg”
“Again, I cannot do that, Miss” he said looking down. “It’s best if you wait” The silence hung heavily, a long pause, and eventually, his footsteps retreated, leaving her alone with the ticking clock.
-
She wanted love to be enough for them. To mean something, and it did; it meant everything to her. Even in this moment, she loves Mon so desperately that the ache of uncertainty threatened to drown her.
The room seemed to close in on her as she sat in an uncomfortable chair in the waiting area, grappling with the reality that only family member had the authority to make decisions for her, for Mon. The sterility of the hospital environment clashed with the emotions surging through her.
She had called Mon’s parents as soon as she could, broken stammers left her mouth as she rushed to explain. The gravity of the situation, each word carrying the weight of a plea for understanding. The repetition of the need for a signature became the only thing she clung to.
Walking over to the desk grabbing Mon’s file, she watched the nurses pass it around talking to each other, but she went over to grab it. It was careless on their part, and her impatience drove her to take it herself.
I love you too much to let you go like this.
She turned her attention to the ominous document, contemplating the cruel bureaucracy that dictated the terms of decisions in this sterile world of illness and healing. The weight of the pen shook in her left hand, it felt heavy as she considered the consequences of forging a signature.
It became a weapon and a lifeline. A mirrored burden of decisions she is to make. The pen trembled in her grasp.
Her mind raced with the possible outcomes, the legal repercussions, the press, but her love for Mon override the fear. Mon is more important. With a determined resolve, she picked up the pen, hesitating momentarily before bringing it down on the paper.
The ink rushed out, creating a small mark, then a voice interrupted her. “What are you doing?” A doctor from before, his eyes widening as he realized her intentions.
“I can’t wait any longer,” She declared, desperation and defiance in her eyes. “I won’t let this nonsense decide whether she lives or dies.”
The man hesitated, caught between everything. He sighed, a flicker of understanding. “If you do this… I have to say something, it’s a law” He couldn’t throw everything out just for this.
“Then leave” she told him her voice quivering. If he didn’t witness her sign it, it would be okay. The man let out a frustrated noise about to open his mouth.
“Khun Sam” She heard Mon’s mother call her name; relief washed over her. Looking up she met Mon’s mother’s worried gaze. The room seemed to exhale a collective breath, as if a glimmer of hope had finally breached the atmosphere.
Mon’s mother rushed closer; the concern etched on her face. “I’m sorry” The first words uttered past her lips. “I just… I couldn’t wait.”
Mon’s mother looked at the document in her trembling hands, then hastily grabbed it now putting her own signature before Sam could. A pause hung in the air, she braced herself for judgement or reprimand, the same reprimand she witnessed her own grandmother give to her sister’s lover who only wanted to love.
Looking down, waiting, but instead, Mon’s mother took her free hands in hers, a silent acknowledgement passing between them. The weight of everything hung between them in that moment.
“It’s going to be okay,” Mon’s mother said, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief of arriving moments before Sam could risk everything. The doctor grabbed the document leaving quickly to give them time.
As they awaited the next steps, the beeping of the machines continued, a rhythmic reminder of life and its fragility.
-
“Mon…” She whispered waiting, clutching her hand. The surgery had been done.
Mon’s still form lay on the sterile hospital bed, connected to a beeping monitor. The room, which had initially seemed okay, now felt suffocating. The hum of medical equipment served as a constant reminder of the fragility.
Perched on an uncomfortable char, Sam gazed at Mon, lost in her mind. Their relationship had been a guarded secret, a delicate in the shadows. Yet, in these clandestine moments, Sam discovered a connection she longed for, a love that was so good, and real, when she felt loved unconditionally.
“I’m here” She whispered out hoping to convey to Mon that she is staying now.
Fear gripped her heart. She knew lost. She lost her sister, a void that time had failed to fill. She then lost her other sister, not to death but to the cruel decree of choices made. The only family she had left was her grandmother, the one person who still stood by her.
Now, with Mon on the brink of departure, Sam grappled with the prospect of losing yet another pillar of her life. The fear wasn't just about losing a lover; it was about losing the one person who had become synonymous with hope and love in the aftermath of familial tragedies.
She didn’t want to live without Mon. “I’ll wait” she repeated to herself, a mantra to anchor her resolve. It wasn't just about the passing of days; it was about holding onto the possibility of a future where Mon would open her eyes and be with Sam once more.
In the quiet of the hospital room, Sam's whispered words echoed with a mixture of desperation and determination, a declaration of love and an unwavering commitment to wait for the person who had become her beacon of hope in a world shadowed by loss.
-
The sterile scent of the hospital made Sam uneasy, a constant reminder of why she was here. The monitors beeped in a rhythmic patter, measuring Mon’s vital signs, but there was no change. Sam often found herself staring at the motionless figure on the bed, wondering if Mon could sense her presence.
In the beginning, friends and family visited, offering condolences and hopeful words, but as the weeks turned into months, the visits dwindled. Sam was left alone with her thoughts, grappling with the guilt that crept in—the guilt of not being able to prevent the accident, the guilt of not being able to do anything now.
There were no signs of Mon waking to her, no responsiveness. The week the doctors promised passes, she grew frustrated, agitated, depressed.
Sam knew with the more time that would pass, the less likely her lover would wake, and be normal. The doctors told her this happens sometimes, sometimes. So why had it happened to her? She questioned the fairness of it all.
Was she being punished?
Sam wrestled with these thoughts in the solitude of the hospital room, the sterile scent serving as a constant reminder. She was unable to escape the harsh reality that Mon might never wake up.
She longed for a sign, any sign that Mon could hear her. She spoke to Mon as if she were awake, pouring out her heart, reminiscing about their shared memories, and expressing the profound love she felt.
All she knew is she needed to be here. She felt needed in a way she never has before.
Each passing day heightened the sense of isolation. The hospital room became both a sanctuary and a prison, a place where time seemed to stand still. Sam grappled with the memories of that fateful day, replaying the scene in her mind, desperately searching for a way to change the course of events.
Despite the pain and uncertainty, Sam remained by Mon's side, a silent sentinel in a world of beeping machines and sterile walls. She clung to the hope that one day, against all odds, Mon would open her eyes and return to the world of the living.
As the months stretched on, Sam's resilience was put to the test. She had to confront her own vulnerabilities, facing the reality that some things were beyond her control. The hospital room became a crucible of emotions, a place where Sam had to find strength in her fragility and navigate the turbulent waters of uncertainty.
Sitting in this hospital room felt surreal. Sam never came to the hospital ever, she avoided it. The stuffiness, the cleanness, the last time someone was here they died. The sadness lingered within Sam. It affected her life, her relations, anything real. But she powered through she needed to. To come back to this room.
Sam rubbed her temple, a headache coming quickly. Her work is going well and steady, her love for work now became her second, her source of happiness she claimed is now second. While her first was trying to desperately hold on.
The rhythmic clacking of the keyboard became a refuge, a solace where she could momentarily escape the suffocating weight of uncertainty that hung heavily in the hospital air.
Sam could her the beeping sound of the machine, it filled the room that was otherwise silent. She couldn’t help but sigh, a few deep breaths to will herself not to cry. The doctors telling her after this month there wasn’t much else, they could do but to keep her comfortable.
Each sterile diagnosis seemed to chisel away at the fragile walls of hope she had built, leaving behind a raw, exposed vulnerability that fueled her frustration with the doctors who couldn’t mend the shattered pieces of her life.
That it was best to say their goodbyes to Mon now.
Sam wanted to lash out, fire them, cuss them, anything, hire new people to take care of Mon, yet she knew deep down every doctor would come to the same opinion. Sure, some would have more options, more ways, but it was inevitable that the doctors would reach the same conclusions.
The doctors would tell her to keep talking, but what good did talking do to a person who probably wouldn’t hear? They told her it could help… though they weren’t sure if Mon would ever hear her say anything; they said it could.
That gave her hope. The doctors told her she sometimes would hear and other not. ‘It wasn’t an exact science’ is what they would often tell her when she pestered them for answers. Mon’s parents came around to the idea of Sam being here.
There were here moments before Sam, but Sam avoided them, she couldn’t stand to look them in the eyes. Even if they accepted the idea, accepted her, and their relationship with Mon, their daughter, she avoided them in fear. Sam often hummed to herself a tone her mother once sang to her to sleep. She remembers it vaguely yet ever so present.
Sam looked at Mon.
A lump formed in her throat as she caught a glimpse of Mon’s still figure. The ache in her chest, a silence of grief, that nagged at her a whisper she could escape, whishing, that this is somehow, this was all just a dream.
Her features hadn’t changed much, though Mon was more pale than usual, she looked sickly. Yet still beautiful to Sam. Sam wanted to cry, everyone around her kept giving her their sympathies and every time she grew angrier than before.
The sympathetic glances and hushed condolences felt like salt rubbed into an open wound, stoking the flames of anger within her. Why couldn’t they see that their pity only intensified the reality she fought so hard to deny?
Sam hadn’t much changed, her face still blank, though now a sadness lingered to her. People could read it, sense it yet they couldn’t decipher it. Her eyes held emotions, too much.
Sam barely left the hospital; If she could stay longer, she would. She didn’t want to leave, but she knew Mon wouldn’t let her if she knew —Mon wouldn't want that. Mon wasn't selfish.
Taking a deep breath, Sam sat beside Mon as she had done before. She reached over, putting her hands into Mon’s, giving it a gentle squeeze, as if to tell her that she was there with her. And every time, she held onto hope that Mon would give any indication she knew, but every time, the girl remained unresponsive.
“I love you…” Sam started her sentence, the one genuinely sincere thing she could say.
“Do you know? You know. I wish I told more” She held back a shaky breath now, her breathing a little constricted. She didn’t want to cry.
The silence, accompanied by the beeping in the room, felt unbearable. The unresponsiveness made it even harder for Sam. Each moment seemed to stretch endlessly, and the weight of the unspoken words hung in the air, amplifying the profound loneliness within the sterile hospital walls.
It was an almost goodbye; she had a month left, didn’t she? Yes, yes, she did, she told herself. She could tell her goodbye within the time before her heart is truly gone from her.
“Mom and Dad were here: did you know? I hope they're okay,” Sam worried about them, especially with the most recent condition with Mon. “I’m sure they're okay,” she whispered more to herself, trying to convince.
Clearing her throat, she began to talk again, “you miss me.” I miss you. Her throat felt confined, tightening with every word uttered; the unspoken words wouldn’t force their way out, no matter how hard she tried. The weight of the unsaid lingered in the room, a palpable presence that added to the heaviness of the moment.
“I-I miss you. I wish we—I did things different. Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be here…” Giving an honest response, she wanted to laugh at the irony.
Sam didn’t know if the younger girl was listening or not. Either way, she just needed to say anything at this point. “Our home waits for you, as do I. When you do come back… I know you will, you always do. You must. I have faith you will.” Sam gave a breath, breathing back in because she hadn’t taken a breath in her talking.
She wanted to have hope, but hope was slipping away. With time. Time was against them.
“Let’s go on a trip. I’ll let you pick. Anywhere you want. I don’t care. We’ll be happy there,” She said, a small smile painting her lips, a sad happy smile envisioning it. “We could take Singa…”
Bringing Mon’s hand up, she pressed a kiss to the back of it, holding it close, as if it were the only lifeline left.
“I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this… when I was younger, my sister Lady Song, she told me that she was afraid to lose. She told me if you’re afraid to lose something, it’s because you’re afraid to lose something, it’s because you care about it, and for a long time, I never truly knew what that meant to her,” Sam said dimly into the dark room.
Sam thought that she wouldn’t understand ever; she never tried too. Not until now, this moment. She thought back to a time where her company was the thing, she was most afraid to lose.
But now, sitting here in a hospital room watching Mon made more sense to what Song was saying. It was about what she felt, what she wanted.
“Now that I’m here. Waiting… I know that losing was never about something. It was her lover leaving her.” She whispered, looking at the machine, then back at Mon.
Looking away to her phone to check what time it was, she noticed a missed call from her grandmother. She didn’t bother with it, but three hours had passed since she first came from the office.
Sighing dejectedly, putting her head down on the side of the bed beside Mon’s arm on the edge, she closed her eyes. A little sleep would help.
Darkness slowly engulfed her vision, her last thought of Mon.