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Home was dying, he could feel it. It was a familiar feeling, at this moment he knew which would be his end. The darkness began to blur his senses and he waited until death caught up with him, this time, forever. Uncle Somkid tightened his grip around his throat and slowly, he began to lose consciousness with his last thoughts running through his mind: Would his family be okay? Would Peach, Pangpang, Kan and Suradech manage to escape unharmed? He wished he could have avoided all the damage the Vimarnsukmun had done to everyone. He wished he could have protected his loved ones better. He hoped Peach would forgive him for having to leave, he didn't want to have to see him suffer as much as he did in the hospital. He needed him to be safe and happy, his spirit wouldn't be able to leave the world if that wasn't the case. He hoped that Pangpang, his sister and accomplice, would not lose her glow of happiness after witnessing the death of another brother. Her shattered look at that moment when he almost died still haunted him in nightmares and he wished it would never happen again. He hoped Kan was still as strong and brave as ever, fighting against injustice. Home would have liked to have had more time to be able to help her with it, it would have been great to have managed to do some good despite the evil that plagued his family. He hoped Suradech wouldn't collapse in the face of his death and would be able to hold the whole family together with all the love he was ready to give. He had been the closest thing to a father figure Home had had in a while, the true single father to his odd group of misfits.
He exhaled for the last time and felt how life slowly left his body....
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Home noticed that he was lying on a strangely soft surface. He didn't remember the table he had woken up on in limbo being so comfortable. Strange.
An alarm kept repeating. It was quite annoying, reminding him of an old alarm clock he had gotten rid of before he left for the U.S. Maybe his grandfather was trying to play a joke on him? He was a man known for his odd sense of humor and certainly, he enjoyed messing with him immensely.
His hand stretched out towards the source of the sound, as he half-opened his eyes in an attempt to look around. Odd, the Cok Long bar looked very dark for what was usual. Maybe Grandpa had figured out how to turn down the mystical glow of the place? Was that even possible?
He rubbed his eyes, his vision gradually clearing and scanned everything around him. The standing mirror in which he dressed up every morning, the door leading to his dressing room, the antique lamp that had been his mother's, the photograph taken of him with his parents and grandfather on the day he was born, the little souvenirs he had been collecting over the years....
It seemed that his limbo had just changed and become the room he had in the mansion. Great, he was doomed to spend the next hundred days in a place full of terrible memories. In the last few days Cok Long had felt more like home than that damned mansion had.
He sighed. He got up with what little willpower he had left and began to walk all over the place. His fingers brushed over every object, detail, and crevice present. It was amazing the quality of the reproduction of his room, it contained each and every one of the things he had etched in his mind throughout his life. He felt strangely nostalgic.
A series of sounds came from outside the room. Voices chattering, the sound of dishes clattering, silverware being used and footsteps. The latter were getting closer and closer, until he felt someone stand in front of his door. A shadow loomed underneath, too small to be his grandfather's and strangely familiar. A woman? Maybe he hadn't gone to limbo, maybe he was already in the afterlife. Could that be his mother?
Someone knocked on the door for a long time and Home approached hesitantly, afraid of what he might find on the other side. “Master Home, it's time to get up. Breakfast is served,” said a gentle voice after a while. Breakfast? Why should the dead eat breakfast? He was puzzled by it, but after thinking about it he assumed that maybe the other life was called that because it worked just like the real one. “Young master, are you all right?” the strangely familiar voice asked. Who could it be? He forced himself to try to remember, so much that he almost started to get a headache. Wait a minute! That voice... it sounded like P'Nui, one of the maids who had always treated him like a son since he was a child. But, it was impossible that she was dead, the last time he saw her she was safe and sound directing the rest of the staff on how to do the cleaning of his grandfather's room. Maybe uncle had done something to her? After all, she had always been one of the people who protected Home the most.
Frightened, with his heart pounding, he opened the door. There in front of him was that sweet woman, giving him one of her loving, motherly looks. Then she stared at him, causing a wrinkle of concern to appear on her brow as he felt her scan his face. “Sir, are you...?”, Home hugged her tightly and didn't give her time to finish the question. “Are you okay little one? You haven't hugged me like this since those years of your childhood when you kept having nightmares.”, Nui said in a worried voice and leaving aside the formalities, rubbed his back like when he was a child. Home inhaled the soothing aroma of cookies that always seemed to accompany her wherever she went and felt at home. After everything that had happened with his family he believed he had earned it. It didn't matter that it was a dream, this was just what he needed right now.
After a good while, Noi split up and urged him to go downstairs and head for the dining room, threatening to punish him in some way if he didn't get to eat properly. “I'm an adult now", Home protested as he pouted. “You'll always be a child in my eyes and more so if you skip meals,” the maid taunted him. “Go downstairs right now and feed yourself properly, it will do you good after you've had a bad night,” she ordered him as she walked away and made a threatening gesture to indicate that would be watching him. He had a great weakness for this woman, so he would have to do as she said. At the moment, the afterlife looked promising. Or maybe this was his new limbo, in which case he wasn't complaining, at least he was re-experiencing some of his favorite moments.
Walked into the dining room. Grandpa was smiling at him from his seat, just as he had always done for years. He took a few steps forward, ready to throw himself into his arms and give him a big hug, when... he saw Uncle Somkid.
Home's smile quickly disappeared and he looked at him with frightened eyes, as his words replayed in his head, “Did you really think I loved you?”
He watched as his killer greeted him cheerfully, with that smile that he had always thought was affectionate and now, could only feel empty. Felt a shiver run through his body, his heart on the verge of a nervous breakdown and for just a second, he remembered those eyes full of hatred and bloodlust.
He looked away, trying to act as calm as possible. Unfortunately the universe must have hated him, because he met his aunt's hateful eyes. She was watching him like a hawk watching its prey and as she was absentmindedly stroking her necklace (the same one she had used to control those spirits). He remembered the voice and the last words of Baanchuen, that poor woman she had murdered cold bloodedly. That kind young woman who had served her faithfully for so many years and in return, she had used her as if she was a toy. A human life of no importance, someone who would disappear and no one would miss. Home wanted to vomit.
This breakfast surrounded by monsters had to be some kind of punishment for his committed sins, no doubt about it. He was probably no longer in limbo, but in hell.
Took a deep breath and moved to sit between his grandfather and his uncle, he had promised Noi that he was going to take care of himself and he was willing to keep it.
The family breakfast was an uncomfortable time as he remembered. His uncles were going on and on about business, money and all they had achieved. An obvious attempt to get grandfather's attention and, as he now knew, to try to get grandfather to give them his fortune in inheritance. Acting like the greedy monsters he unfortunately failed to see before because of his desire to have a family that would love him (which had blinded him for so many years). On the other hand, his grandfather was still as affectionate as ever with him (in those moments he could feel some normalcy, until he noticed the sharp looks his uncle was sending him).
He felt emotionally drained, on constant alert, waiting for the enemy to jump on him. Then... he felt someone squeezing his shoulder and when he turned his gaze, he met his uncle's eyes. He gave a little jump in his seat. “You look pale dear nephew, are you all right?” the man asked him, playing his role of loving uncle. But Home could no longer stop hearing the mocking way he said the word dear, because he never was, that was the big farce. “Did you really think I loved you?” his voice echoed in the back of Home's mind. He felt the rusty taste of blood in his mouth and that the smell that was in the house where he died had permeated his skin.
The seemingly innocent squeeze was intensifying and what at another time in his life he would have considered a genuine show of affection, began to feel like an attempt to hurt him. He could feel his fingernails about to dig into his skin, a small detail he had never noticed in the past. Their interactions had always been full of strength, which Home had always associated with the immense affection Somkid had for him as his beloved nephew, though now he could see the real reason.
Home quickly excused himself, saying that he had not slept very well and was going to retire to his room.
He got up and said goodbye to everyone.
He needed to get out of there!
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There he was in his room, wrapped completely in his blankets, hiding from the world around him. Home was starting to shake and gasp, on the verge of having a panic attack. The walls of his room were starting to feel tighter and tighter, a cage he couldn't get out of and was trapped in until it was his time to cross over to the other side. The new limbo was a horrible place.
He spent a long time in hiding, trying to regulate his body's reactions. He needed to calm down. Therefore, set out to take a bubble bath. If he was dead and trapped in the mansion of his nightmares, at least he could enjoy some of the few pleasures available. But then, a familiar melody began to play. There, on his bedside table, was his phone (just as he remembered it) and on its screen was a name: BABY#13.
His ex? Home knew he had done bad things in life and was probably paying for it right now, but to be tortured using his ex-girlfriend? That was perhaps a bit cruel. But on second thought... maybe it was fair. Memories of the night he left Peach lying on that dark road plagued his mind. “Peach,” he whispered sadly. He supposed that at this moment he was being punished for what he did. One of the biggest regrets of his life, something he definitely deserved to be condemned for.
He picked up the phone and answered the call. This one was to invite him to a party, just as it was three years ago. Strange. The conversation had felt exactly the same as it had that day, but maybe it was his imagination, it's not like there were many ways to have that interaction. After all, from what he remembered, his ex and he never talked about anything too important and most of the time, it had all felt rather repetitive. It wasn't like with Pe... well, he wasn't going to let his brain go there right now. He was dead, it wasn't like it mattered. It would only make him suffer more.
He dressed up quickly, not giving too much thought to his appearance. He wasn't too thrilled about hanging out with a group of people who didn't really care about him, who didn't fully accept him and who were otherwise, to a large extent, only interested in his money and his scandalous life. He may have unconsciously put on the same clothes from that fateful night, something he would later realize.
As he hurried out of the house, he was unlucky enough to run into his uncle and grandfather, who were apparently on their way to a meeting. He felt himself start to tremble at the very moment when the eyes of his assassin fell on him and he, with his false voice of kindness, called his attention so that he would stop his steps.
“Home dear nephew, where are you going?” asked Somkid with that false mask he wore for a face. “Away from you,” repeated the young man's mind. “I know who you are, I know what you are,” his thoughts continued. “Did you really think I loved you?”, repeated the voice of that monster in his memories.
“I'm meeting some friends,” replied trying to sound as calm as possible. He felt like a wounded animal, praying that predators wouldn't catch the scent of his blood. So small and helpless...
“Have a good time,” he heard his grandfather say, his voice brimming with affection. Home took a deep breath, avoiding shedding any tears. He had certainly missed him.
“You should take the opportunity to use the sports car for the first time,” his uncle added, and Home's blood froze at that very moment. The sports car? The same one he had run over Peach with? That... that couldn't be. If this was a recreation of that moment... if this was like back then... no one would have said anything to him. The idea of using the vehicle was Home's, not anyone else's. If he refused, he shouldn't... Were they really trying to make him relive that moment? What kind of fucking hell was this?!
“Good idea son. He was so excited about that gift that I think he should use and enjoy it, plus the pretty girls really like those kinds of cars,” said his grandfather as he winked playfully at him. “Please don't do this to me!” thought Home. He couldn't...he didn't want to be forced...it was too cruel. “Enjoy it and have fun with your pretty girlfriend,” his grandfather dismissed in a teasing voice.
They both watched and waited for him to move towards the vehicle. Home felt sick, needing to throw up. They began to encourage him with small gestures, smiling at him to indicate that should enjoy his gift. He approached with slow steps, feeling heavier and heavier as he got closer to that killing machine. It may have been his imagination, but the smell of blood was beginning to fill his nostrils and he felt like he needed to rub his skin raw, to get all the dirt out that horrible night was impregnated into his skin. “Please don't make me do this to him again...” he pleaded in a barely imperceptible voice, praying to whatever divinity existed to spare him from this torture.
And so, he headed for the bar. Feeling on the verge of fainting and in constant worry about what awaited him.
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The rest of the night was very similar to that day, with some slight differences because of the strange behavior that everyone had noticed in Home. He was very uncomfortable around the noise and couldn't help but be wary of everyone around him (he supposed having been murdered could do that to a person). Also, every time his ex-girlfriend was blatantly flirting or tried to touch him like she used to, he couldn't help but tense up. The situation felt wrong knowing that she was still with her previous boyfriend, but mostly, because the few feelings he might have once had were now overshadowed by more intense ones. The image of sparkling brown eyes and a loving smile popped into his mind. He quickly pushed that idea from his thoughts, because when he was alive it had already been complicated and now that he was dead, he preferred not to think about it. Not that it was possible for him to do anything about those feelings.
All of Home's tension came to a boiling point when she made a comment to him about his habit of avoiding drinking. He hadn't thought much of her criticism at the time, but after experiencing true acceptance by his beloved group of ghost hunters, he had come to realize that the people who had surrounded him for much of his life only wanted the image they had of him. None of them had appreciated the little peculiarities that made him himself and every time he did something, which they felt was inadequate according to their expectation, they used to look at him with a critical and contemptuous face. He was tired of not being able to be himself and he was not going to allow them, even in his death, to dictate to him what to do. Not only that, he was also exhausted that no one was interested in knowing why. This meant that if she was trying so hard to force him to drink she insisted that he drink (which, as he had recently realized, she shouldn't do if she accepted and respected him), shouldn't she at least care to know why he refused to do so? That's the least she should do for her partner, whom she supposedly adored and cherished so much.
Home's relationship with alcohol was complicated. A rather painful subject he didn't like to talk about. He still remembered sitting in the back seat of the family car, watching his father try to protect his mother between his arms. Some nights he recalled how he heard them screaming his name in the middle of the fall, frightened by the possibility of losing him. At certain times of the year he would dream of how he cried that one time as his world filled with blood, life was draining from his father's eyes and his mother was slowly running out of strength, smiling with tears in her eyes in an attempt to comfort him. The sound of screeching tires still haunted him along with the image of a strangely familiar black car, which was spearing the vehicle he had been in that day.
Despite the pain, he would have appreciated it if someone had ever asked him about it. At least that would have shown that they cared about him. And if they didn't or weren't comfortable with it, he would have liked them to at least accept it, without treating him like someone stupid or making him feel guilty to try to force him to do something he didn't want to do. He was sure Peach would have done it his friends would have done it, if it had been more time.
So, Home decided to tell all the fake people around him to fuck off (criticizing his ex for her attitude towards him and mentioning that besides, he knew she was cheating on him) and walked out the door. Lighter than ever, with a happy smile on his mouth. At least he had managed to do the right thing in limbo. Although, he wished he had been able to when he was alive.
He got into the car and started to drive away. As he did so he received a call from her, just as he had that night. This time, he didn't grab the phone. But he did start to get distracted by a strange thought that was going through his head. If he was supposed to be punished for his actions... How was it possible that he was doing things differently? Shouldn't he be forced to repeat everything as punishment? Then, he began to mentally review all the little details that had changed since then and came to a conclusion:
He had traveled back in time. Or at least, that was what he had time to think before having to brake quickly to avoid running over a figure that had just appeared in his way.
With his heart racing at the thought of having traveled through time and the suspicion that he knew who the person on the other side was, he decided to get out of the car and face whatever had happened. Please... Don't let me hurt him! Please... He needed Peach to be all right! He had slammed on the brakes quickly, but what if...? He couldn't do it again, he didn't want to see him like that again because of him, he couldn't....
Reaching out on shaky legs to the young man lying on the ground, he whispered in a frightened voice, “Peach? Are...are you...are you okay?”
“Who...who are you?” he heard a scratchy, confused voice ask.
“Thank God you're alright!”, Home sighed with tears in his eyes, reminding himself that the other guy hadn't met him yet. He wanted to hug him and not let him go, to tell him… well, to tell him many things. But he wasn’t his Peach yet, to him Home was a stranger who had just run him over. He felt his brown eyes on him, lacking the affection he had grown accustomed to and lacking any hint of recognition. That broke his heart and the hope that Peach had also traveled with him, the one that had lasted only a few seconds, died at that moment.
Home was in the past, only with his memories. Painfully, he was the only one who knew everything they had experienced together. But maybe that was better, that way he would avoid all the pain he had caused his family. Peach, Pangpang, Kan and Suradech.
He called the ambulance and waited.
Sat on the floor and held Peach’s hand tightly, afraid of losing him. He lost track of time and felt that he was no longer aware of his own body. But unconsciously, he began to caress the black-haired boy's wrist and count each heartbeat.
One… two… three…
“He's alive,” he reminded himself.
Four… five… six…
“Peach will be okay,” he repeated in his mind.
Seven… eight… nine…
He stayed like that for the whole time he waited, while those brown eyes continued to analyze him intensely.
Home promised at that moment that as soon as Peach was safe, he would leave his life forever. He needed to protect him.
And the rest of the problems caused by his family… well, he would solve them alone. As he had always been.