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The room was dark except for the sliver of moonlight sneaking in through the curtains. Jack lay on his back in bed, wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His hands rested over his chest, fingers twitching now and then.
On the wall opposite the bed, two wedding suits hung side by side. Carefully pressed. Perfectly aligned. Ready for the ceremony that was supposed to happen tomorrow.
One was his. The other was Joke’s.
Jack turned his head slightly, gaze falling on the empty space beside him. The sheets were undisturbed. Cold.
“Tomorrow,” he whispered, voice barely a breath. “Tomorrow, he’ll be back.”
The silence swallowed him whole, but Jack didn’t blink. Didn’t move.
“He’s just late, that’s all. You know how he is,” he murmured to the stillness, lips curling faintly at the memory. “He’ll make some dramatic entrance and I’ll pretend to be mad, but really I’ll just be happy he’s here.”
He exhaled shakily.
“He wouldn’t miss our wedding. He promised. He promised.”
Jack blinked hard, trying to will the tears away before they could form. He reached out, fingers brushing the empty pillow. His hand stayed there.
“I miss you so much,” he whispered.
Eventually, the weight of his exhaustion pulled him under. His breathing slowed, and for a few fragile hours, he slept.
Dreaming of soft smiles.
Of a suit waiting on a hanger.
And a voice calling him teerak from across the room.
The courtyard between the apartment complexes was quiet, bathed in the soft orange of morning. Jack was already there, crouched beside the first row of chairs, adjusting one of the flower arrangements. His black trousers were wrinkled, his shirt from yesterday still clung to him from the humidity of the morning dew. He hadn’t changed. Hadn’t showered. Had barely slept.
But his hands moved with purpose, placing centerpieces, sweeping off leaves that had fallen overnight. The wedding arch still stood tall, but the ribbons had started to droop. Jack didn’t seem to notice.
Every now and then, he glanced toward the entrance of the courtyard. As if any second now, Joke would walk in. Hair slicked back, suit just slightly too fitted, teasing Jack for getting emotional.
“He’s going to be late on purpose,” Jack murmured under his breath as he tied a ribbon around a chair back. “Drama queen.”
He forced a soft chuckle.
“I’ll act annoyed but… he’ll know I’m just happy to see him. I always am.”
From a distance, Tattoo and Hoy approached cautiously, watching their friend work. Jack didn’t even notice them at first—he was too focused on fluffing the tablecloth near the front.
“Jack?” Tattoo called, voice careful, like he was afraid he’d shatter something.
Jack looked up, smiling brightly despite the dark circles under his eyes.
“Oh hey—finally! I was starting to think I’d have to set all this up alone,” he said with a laugh that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “C’mon, help me get the chairs down. He’ll be here soon.”
Hoy looked at Tattoo, his mouth opening to say something—but nothing came out. Instead, he stepped forward slowly.
“Jack… you’ve been out here since yesterday,” he said gently. “You didn’t go home last night, did you?”
Jack waved it off. “Didn’t need to. I wanted to make sure everything was ready. It’s our wedding day. Joke’s gonna want it perfect.”
Tattoo shifted awkwardly. “Jack…”
Jack stood up straighter, blinking at them.
“Why do you both look at me like that?” he asked quietly, tone turning sharp around the edges. “You’re not seriously going to say it too.”
Hoy swallowed. “Mate, we just—”
“WHY DOESN’T ANYONE BELIEVE ME?!”
Jack's voice cracked as he shouted, rage and desperation curling in his throat like smoke. His fists trembled at his sides, nails digging into his palms. “Why does everyone think he’s dead?! It’s our wedding day. I know he’ll show up.”
Tattoo and Hoy stood a few feet away, silent. Their worried gazes flickered between Jack and each other. They didn’t say it out loud, but it was there—in the way they hovered without stepping closer.
Jack was unraveling.
“I know he’ll come,” Jack whispered to himself. “He promised. He promised me...”
The distant murmur of the crowd quieted when a familiar voice rang out like a shot.
“Teerak!”
Jack’s heart seized in his chest. That voice—it was him. No one else said it like that. No one else ever could.
He turned, wide-eyed.
And there he was.
Joke stood on the stage in his white wedding suit, hair slightly tousled, eyes sparkling as if nothing had happened. As if the world hadn’t mourned him. As if he hadn’t been gone at all.
Jack stumbled forward, breathless. “Joke… darling, I missed you so much!”
He bounded up the steps and threw his arms around him, holding him like he’d fall apart if he let go.
Joke laughed softly, arms wrapping around Jack’s waist. “Awh, honey. I missed you too.”
Jack kissed him then—desperate and soft, like he was afraid this dream might end.
After a long moment, he pulled back and smiled. “I knew you’d come back.”
“Of course I would,” Joke replied, brushing Jack’s cheek with his thumb. “Why wouldn’t I? We’re supposed to get married, aren’t we?”
Jack turned sharply to look at their friends—who stood frozen, their faces pale with disbelief.
“Nobody believed me,” Jack said, voice hard now. “They all said you were dead. That you weren’t coming. But look. You’re here.”
The crowd had gone still. Whispers rippled. Worried glances. Tattoo took a cautious step forward.
“Jack…” he said slowly, gently, like he was approaching a frightened animal. “I think maybe you should go lie down for a bit. Just rest, alright?”
“I’M FINE,” Jack snapped, eyes flashing.
Hoy raised both hands. “Okay, okay. No pressure. Just… do you need help with anything?”
Jack huffed. “Yeah. Help set the chairs down. Guests are gonna arrive soon.”
Before anyone could respond, Joke’s voice rang out, soft but commanding.
“Jack. Love. Come with me?”
Jack blinked and turned, all that coldness vanishing from his face. “Yes, teerak?”
Joke smiled gently, taking his hand. “Follow me.”
Without hesitation, Jack let himself be led away—past the apartment courtyard, past the quiet, staring neighbors, down streets that blurred together. He didn’t care where they went. Joke was warm beside him, and that was all that mattered.
They walked for what felt like hours, but Jack didn’t complain once. His fingers stayed laced with Joke’s, and he kept glancing sideways with a soft smile.
Soon, they reached the river docks. The wind had picked up. The sun was dipping low, casting a golden haze over the water.
Jack hesitated. His stomach turned.
“This is where… where Carbon and you fell, right? Why are we back here?”
Joke walked to the edge, gazing out at the slow-moving water. “Do you want us to be together forever? No more hiding. No more pain. Just us.”
Jack stepped beside him. His voice cracked with emotion. “I’d love that. More than anything.”
Joke turned to him, cupped his face, and kissed him again—gentle, final.
Then he whispered, “Hold on.”
And they fell.
Together.
Into the water.
—
…
……….
…
The news bulletin looped on the TV in the quiet apartment.
“A 25-year-old male, identified as Jack Jakkaphon Ngowthong, was found in the river docks this morning. Authorities believe he may have been experiencing a mental episode at the time of his death. Witnesses report he had been seen talking to himself in recent days, awaiting the return of a lover who tragically passed weeks ago…”
The words echoed like a scream in Joke’s ears. He stood frozen, the remote slipping from his hand.
“No…”
He sank to his knees, a sob caught in his throat. “No, Jack—please, no—”
Tears streamed down his face, silent and endless.
From the shadows near the window, a low laugh stirred the air.
“Finally,” came the voice, cold and venomous. “He got out of my way.”
Joke’s head snapped up, but there was no one there.
Only the news, still playing.
And the sound of his heart breaking.
—Le end.