Arthur roamed the streets of Bangkok, feeling like a ghost in his hometown. The places that had once been so alive with Nick's presence now appeared hollow, just backdrops to memories that clung to him like shadows.
He started at their rooftop—their sanctuary. He ascended the familiar rusted ladder and stepped upon the flat concrete surface, where they had spent countless evenings lying under the stars, whispering dreams into the night. The city lights spread before him, a magnificent mosaic of movement and life, yet everything felt distant, like he was peering into a world he no longer belonged to. He ran his fingers along the rough edges of the ledge, where Nick used to sit, legs dangling dangerously over the side, mocking Arthur about being too cautious.
He closed his eyes, remembering Nick's laughter, the way it resonated in the breeze. But suddenly, the silence was intolerable.
Nick wasn't here.
Arthur attempted the night market next, wandering past the familiar rows of sellers selling everything from sizzling street food to handmade handicrafts. He stopped by the kiosk where Nick always got his favorite grilled pork skewers.
The seller recognized him. "Where's your friend? The old man asked, flipping the skewers over the charcoal grill, "Haven't seen him in a while."
Arthur swallowed hard. "I don't know."
The words felt heavier than he imagined.
He waited there for a time, hoping—stupidly—that maybe Nick would show up, drawn by the familiar fragrance of roasted pig. But as the hours passed and the market swelled with people, Arthur remained alone, lost in the crowd.
He went to the temple near the river next, the one Nick's mother always took them to for crucial tests. She believed the temple brought good luck, and Nick, although rolling his eyes at the superstition, always humored her.
Arthur lit a candle and knelt before the golden Buddha, placing his palms together in prayer. He wasn't very religious, but he would pray if it meant finding Nick.
"Please," he begged, his voice barely heard over the sound of the churning river. "Bring him back to me."
The temple was silent, tranquil, yet Arthur felt no closer to an answer.
Pim met him outside, concern etched into her features. "Arthur, you need to rest. You're exhausting yourself."
"I can't rest," Arthur murmured, wiping his face. "I won't stop until I find him."
"He'll come back," Pim promised him. "He just needs time."
Arthur wanted to believe her, but deep inside, a gnawing fear took root. What if Nick didn't come back? What if this time, he had genuinely given up on them?
As the days passed, Arthur's hope weakened. He asked everyone they knew, probing through every potential connection. He even went out to Mia, Nick's best friend, but she hadn't heard from him either.
"I'll let you know if I do," she vowed. But her words contained the same worry Arthur felt in his bones.
Desperate, Arthur made a decision he never thought he would—he went to Nick's parents' house.
He hesitated at the gate, peering up at the old residence. He had spent so many weekends here, eating meals, playing board games, and listening to Nick's mother tell stories about their childhoods. But tonight, the house felt different. It wasn't simply a home—it was his final hope.
Nick's mother opened the door, surprised but not unkind. "Arthur?
The moment he saw her, something inside him shattered. He hadn't sobbed yet—not really—but now, standing in front of the woman who had always welcomed him like family, he couldn't hold it in.
"I don't know where he is," he admitted, his voice breaking. "I don't know what to do."
She drew him inside without hesitation, bringing him to the couch. "Tell me everything."
Arthur did. He told her about the images, the fight, and the way Nick had looked at him before going away. He told her how he had explored every part of the city, hoping—praying—that Nick would be there.
When he finished, she grabbed for his hand, squeezing it softly. "Arthur, my son loves you. I have never seen him love anyone the way he loves you."
Arthur fought back another flood of tears. "Then why did he leave?
"Because he's hurt," she stated simply. "And when Nick is hurt, he runs. But he always finds his way back."
Arthur wanted to believe that, but the terror wouldn't let him. "What if this time is different?
She shook her head. "Give him time. Let him come to you when he's ready."
Nick's father, who had been listening patiently, eventually said, "Stay the night, Arthur. You need rest."
Arthur paused, but tiredness won. He hadn't slept properly in days, and the weight of searching, of hoping, was bringing him down.
That night, he lay in Nick's childhood bedroom, staring at the ceiling. The walls were still adorned with posters from when they were teenagers—bands Nick had adored and movies he had obsessed over.
Arthur shifted onto his side, inhaling the faint, familiar aroma of Nick that still lingered in the blankets.
He closed his eyes, murmuring into the darkness.
"Please come back to me."