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Chapter Text

The rain lashed against the hospital windows, mirroring the storm brewing inside Sky. He clutched Rain's hand, his knuckles white, his eyes fixed on the heart monitor, its rhythmic beeps a cruel reminder of the fragile line between life and death.
"Come on, Rain," he whispered, his voice hoarse with worry. "Fight. For the babies. For us."
He glanced at the incubator, where his tiny nephews, Atid and Aroon, lay sleeping, their delicate forms a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them. He had imagined them playing together with his son Zephyr, inseparable like he and Rain. He had envisioned them calling each other cousins, their laughter echoing through their homes.
Now, the future seemed uncertain, shrouded in an ominous gray. Rain, his vibrant, vivacious best friend, lay unconscious, his life hanging by a thread. The joy of new parenthood, the anticipation of a lifetime of shared memories, had been replaced by a suffocating fear, a gnawing dread that threatened to consume him.
He closed his eyes, picturing Rain's radiant smile, his infectious laughter. He vowed to protect their children, to cherish their memories, to ensure that the echoes of Rain's love would forever resonate in their hearts.

Chapter Text

The rain lashed against the hospital windows, mirroring the storm inside Sky. Each gust of wind against the glass seemed to mimic the frantic beat of his own heart. He clutched Prapai's hand, his knuckles white, his eyes fixed on the heart monitor near Rain, its rhythmic beeps a cruel reminder of the fragile line between life and death. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the metallic tang of fear in the air, a constant assault on his senses. He glanced at the incubator, where his tiny Godsons lay sleeping, their delicate forms a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them. He had imagined them (Rain’s and Sky’s children) playing together, inseparable like he and Rain. He had envisioned them calling each other cousins, their laughter echoing through their homes. But now, Zephyr, his newborn son, lay in his father-in-law’s hands, a tiny bundle of joy who was now also a part of this unexpected equation. The joy of new parenthood, the anticipation of a lifetime of shared memories, had been replaced by a suffocating fear, a gnawing dread that threatened to consume him. He closed his eyes, picturing Rain's radiant smile, his infectious laughter. He remembered the day Zephyr was born, the joy they had shared, the way Rain had beamed with happiness, promising to be the best Godfather, to shower him with love and attention. He could still feel the warmth of Rain's hand on his shoulder, his words of encouragement as he struggled to change a diaper or soothe Zephyr's cries. He could even hear Phayu's voice, a mixture of awe and amusement, as he watched them fumble through the early days of parenthood.

The scent of lavender and chamomile filled the air, a calming aroma meant to soothe the nerves of expectant fathers. But Sky, despite the serene ambiance of the delivery room, felt a tremor of anxiety. He held Prapai's hand, his knuckles white, his eyes fixed on the monitor, its rhythmic beeps a constant reminder of the miracle unfolding within him. The low hum of the hospital equipment created a lullaby of sorts, a strange counterpoint to the symphony of his racing heartbeat.

Sky had never envisioned himself as a father, his focus was always on his career and his independence. But Prapai's love had softened the edges of his life, nurturing a desire for a family he never knew he craved, but the reality of it was far more profound than he had ever imagined. He glanced at Prapai; his eyes filled with a love so deep it took his breath away. Prapai, in turn, offered him a reassuring smile, his eyes sparkling with a love that mirrored his own. After hours of labor, the moment arrived. A tiny cry filled the room, followed by the sight of their son, a perfect miniature version of Prapai, with his father's eyes and a mischievous glint in his gaze. Overjoyed, Sky and Prapai named their son Zephyr [(Greek mythology) meaning “The west wind”, known for its gentleness], a name that evoked images of gentle breezes and boundless skies. The following weeks were a blissful haze of sleepless nights, tender smiles, and a love that grew deeper with each passing day. They spent hours gazing at their son, marveling at his tiny fingers, his gummy smile, and the way he would scrunch up his face in concentration as he tried to suck his thumb. They would often discuss their hopes and dreams for Zephyr, imagining him growing up surrounded by love and laughter, with Rain and Phayu as an integral part of his life. Phayu, in his ever-teasing mood, would often tease Prapai about his clumsy attempts at diaper changing, his laughter echoing through the Main family mansion. The smell of baby powder and warm milk filled the air, a comforting aroma that now seemed to mock him with its bittersweet memories.

Rain had always been with them, his face radiant with happiness. He had held Zephyr, his eyes brimming with tears, whispering, "He's perfect, just perfect." He had promised to be the best Godfather, to shower him with love and attention. He could vividly recall the way Rain had cradled Zephyr in his arms, his gentle touch radiating warmth and affection. He could almost hear Phayu's voice, a low murmur of endearment as he watched Rain interact with their son, a tender smile playing on his lips.

Their happiness was short-lived. One afternoon, while feeding Zephyr, the soft gurgling sounds of his son feeding were interrupted by the frantic ringing of the phone. Porsche received a frantic call from Pete. Rain, who was also expecting, had been rushed to the hospital, his condition critical. The news hit Sky like a physical blow. He felt the joy he had been savoring drain away, replaced by a suffocating fear. He clutched Zephyr closer, his heart pounding in his chest, the rhythmic thumping of his heartbeat a stark contrast to the peaceful rise and fall of his son's chest. He rushed to the hospital, his mind reeling, the scent of antiseptic now a constant, unwelcome reminder of the fear that gripped him. Rain, his best friend, his confidante, was in trouble. The joy of new parenthood, the anticipation of their children growing up together, now felt like a distant, bittersweet memory. He arrived at the hospital to find Rain battling for his life, the rhythmic beeps of the heart monitor a constant, agonizing reminder of the fragility of life. The sterile scent of the hospital filled his nostrils, a stark contrast to the comforting aroma of his own home, now tainted with the memory of his friend's struggle. He clutched his hand, his eyes fixed on the monitor, the fear in his eyes mirroring the storm raging within him.

The memory, vivid and painful, brought a pang of sadness to his heart. Rain. The name still held the power to evoke a whirlwind of emotions – joy, grief, and a profound sense of loss. 

He gently shifted Zephyr, the soft warmth of his son's skin a comforting presence against his own. His gaze was drawn to the photographs displayed on his phone – a picture of him and Prapai on their wedding day, a picture of Zephyr as a newborn, his tiny fingers curled into a fist, and a cherished photograph of him and Rain, their faces beaming with happiness.

Rain. He was always there, a constant sunshine presence in his life, now lay lifeless on the hospital bed surrounded by medical devices. The rhythmic beeping of the machines created a discordant symphony, a stark contrast to the peaceful sounds of his own home, now altered by the state of his friend.

Chapter Text

Pete sat rigidly in the plastic chair, his gaze fixed on the sterile white walls, his mind reeling. He could still hear the frantic cries of the paramedics, the wail of the sirens fading into the distance, the terrified gasp that escaped Rain's lips as they wheeled him out of their mansion. He remembered the cold, metallic scent of the hospital, the blur of white coats, the hushed whispers of the medical staff, the frantic rush to get Rain into the emergency room. He remembered the way Rain's face, usually so vibrant with life, had turned a sickly shade of grey, his eyes rolling back in his head.

He remembered the doctor's grim prognosis, the way his voice had trailed off, the unspoken fear hanging heavy in the air. "We're doing everything we can," the doctor had said, his voice strained, "but..." The unspoken words hung between them, a heavyweight in the air.

He remembered the way Phayu had collapsed against him. He had held Phayu close, his own grief mirroring the despair that consumed his son-in-law. In that moment, the world had shrunk to the sterile white walls of the hospital room, the rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, and the agonizing wait for news.

Pete closed his eyes, trying to shut out the terrifying images, the cacophony of sounds, the chilling silence that had followed. He could still feel the icy grip of fear that had constricted his throat, the desperate hope that had flickered and died in his eyes. He thought of Rain, his dearest son-in-law, lying unconscious in the ICU, his life hanging by a thread.

"PA Pete!" Sky's voice, raw with panic, cut through the sterile silence of the waiting room. "Please, tell me what's happening! Is he going to be, okay?"

Pete, his face pale and drawn, looked up from the worn leather of the chair, his eyes meeting Sky's with a mixture of fear and helplessness. "They're doing everything they can, Sky," he managed to croak out, his voice thick with emotion. "But..."

Sky felt a cold dread creeping into his bones. "But what, PA Pete? Tell me!"

Pete hesitated; his gaze fixed on the floor. "There were complications," he said, his voice trembling, " Ex…excessive bleeding. Ec..ec...eclampsia*."

Each hesitant word, each drawn-out syllable, felt like a blow to Sky's chest. He felt the icy grip of fear tighten around his throat, choking him. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, a relentless metronome of life and death, seemed to mock his growing despair. Each beep was a hammer blow against his already shattered composure.

Finally, Pete, his voice cracking with emotions, uttered the words that shattered Sky's world: "He's in a coma, Sky. We don't know..."

The words echoed in his mind, a constant, agonizing reminder of the near miss, the fragility of life. He could still hear the frantic cries of the medical staff, the hurried whispers, the cold, sterile environment of the hospital – it all blurred into a terrifying montage. He could still feel the icy grip of fear that had constricted his throat as he watched Rain in the hospital room, his face pale, his breathing shallow. The sterile white of the walls seemed to mock the vibrant life that had been so abruptly extinguished, a stark contrast to the vibrant colors of their shared memories.

Prapai, ever the observant and supportive husband, stepped forward, gently pulling Sky away from Pete. He held him close, his arms a comforting embrace, the warmth radiating from his body a stark contrast to the chilling coldness of the hospital. "It's okay to cry, My Sky," Prapai whispered, his voice gentle and reassuring. "Let it out."

And Sky cried, tears streaming down his face, a torrent of grief and fear unleashed. He sobbed, his body wracked with sobs, the sound echoing through the sterile silence of the room. Prapai held him close, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of emotions, his love a beacon in the darkness.

The sterile scent of the hospital clung to Sky's clothes like a shroud, a constant, unwelcome reminder of the tragedy that had befallen his best friend, Rain. Each breath he took seemed to fill his lungs with the metallic tang of fear. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the room, a stark contrast to the warmth and joy that had recently filled their lives. The news of Rain's condition had hit Sky like a tidal wave, crashing over him, leaving him gasping for air. He had been overjoyed to learn that he and Rain were expecting around the same time, picturing their children growing up together, inseparable like they were. Now, the joy had been replaced by a suffocating grief, a constant ache in his chest, a hollow echo of the laughter that had once filled their lives.

Phayu sat on the chair on the other side of the bed, his shoulders slumped, his gaze fixed on Rain's lifeless face. He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken, hadn't even shed a tear, a silent testament to the grief that consumed him. He was a statue, frozen in time, his soul shattered by the suddenness of their tragedy.

Sky, witnessing Phayu's frozen grief, felt a wave of despair wash over him. He knew the pain Phayu was enduring was immeasurable, a silent scream trapped within him. He wanted to reach out, to offer comfort, but the words seemed to catch in his throat, swallowed by the suffocating grief that enveloped them all.

He sat beside Rain, his own grief mirroring the stillness in the room. He looked at Rain, his best friend, his confidante, lying there, pale and still. Their dreams, their hopes, their future – all of it seemed to have vanished in an instant. He thought of the twins, their tiny cries echoing in his mind, a constant reminder of the life they would now have to navigate without their father. A wave of sadness washed over him, so profound it threatened to drown him. He felt a deep, aching loneliness, a sense of his own mortality, and the fragility of happiness. He wondered if he would ever feel joy again, if the laughter that had once filled their lives would ever return.

"Come on, Rain," Sky whispered, his voice hoarse with worry. "Fight. For the babies. For us."

He clutched his hand tighter, his eyes pleading, his heart pounding in his chest. But Rain remained unresponsive, his body a silent testament to the cruel hand of fate. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor continued its relentless rhythm, a constant, intrusive reminder of the fragility of life, a stark contrast to the vibrant life that had been so abruptly extinguished.

Chapter Text

The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor, a constant, agonizing reminder of their suspended lives. Each beep was a hammer blow against their already shattered composure, a stark contrast to the joyful sounds that should be filling this room – the gurgling of babies, the soft cooing of parents, the laughter of friends.

Porsche, his eyes red-rimmed, sat beside Pete, his gaze fixed on the two tiny figures in the crib, their faces scrunched up. The clinical scent of the hospital, a chilling antiseptic that clung to everything, seemed to mock the innocence of the newborns.

"Poor little ones," Porsche whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "They don't even know their father is fighting for them."

Pete, his gaze fixed on the twins, felt a wave of sadness wash over him, so profound it threatened to drown him. The bleached walls of the hospital seemed to mock the vibrant life that had been so abruptly extinguished, a sharp contrast to the vibrant colours of the nursery Rain had envisioned. "Rain would be an amazing father," he murmured, his voice choked with emotion. "He would have adored them."

The twins, sensing the tension in the room, cried louder, their tiny fists clenched. Sky, his heart aching, shifted his attention from Rain's bedside, where he had been vigil, to the crib. He picked up one of the twins, a small boy with Rain's eyes, and gently rocked him. As Pete watched Sky cradle the baby, a wave of tenderness washed over him. He reached out and gently picked up the other twin, a smaller boy with Phayu's eyes, and held him close.

As Sky held the baby, a flood of memories washed over him, each one a bittersweet pang. He remembered Rain's ecstatic face, the way his eyes had lit up, when he first learned about the twins, how he had beamed with joy, his eyes sparkling with excitement. He remembered the hours they had spent discussing names, their voices filled with excitement.

Rain had wanted to incorporate both his and Phayu's names somehow. He had toyed with the idea of "Ra-Pha" or "Pha-Rain," but nothing seemed to quite capture the essence of their love.

Sky gently stroked the baby's soft hair, his gaze fixed on the tiny face. "You'll grow up to be just like your father, strong and kind," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "He's fighting for you, little one."

The baby, sensing the warmth of Sky's embrace, began to calm down, his cries subsiding into soft whimpers. He snuggled into the crook of Sky's neck, his tiny hand clutching Sky's shirt, a fragile anchor in the storm of emotions. A wave of warmth washed over Sky, a fleeting moment of solace in the midst of the overwhelming grief.

Porsche, cradling the now sleeping Zephyr in his arms, watched Sky with a mixture of admiration and sorrow. He knew the weight of responsibility Sky was carrying, the grief he was battling. The oppressive silence in the room, broken only by the soft breaths of the sleeping babies, seemed to amplify the weight of their loss.

"Look at that," Porsche whispered, a tear rolling down his cheek. "He knows you."

Sky looked down at the baby, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions – love, grief, and a fragile hope. He held the baby close, his gaze fixed on his peaceful face. He thought of Rain, of their dreams, of the life they had planned. The future seemed uncertain, shrouded in a haze of grief and uncertainty. But in this moment, holding this tiny human in his arms, he found a glimmer of hope, a reminder that life, despite its fragility, could still find a way to bloom.

Meanwhile, Phayu sat beside the bed, his hand gently resting on Rain's cool skin. His gaze was fixed on Rain's face, pale and still, his eyes closed. A wave of grief washed over Phayu, so profound it threatened to drown him. He thought of Rain's laughter, his infectious smile, the way his eyes would crinkle at the corners when he smiled. He thought of their dreams, their plans, their future – all of it seemed to have vanished in an instant.

He remembered the day they had learned about the twins, the overwhelming joy they had felt. Rain, ever the dreamer, had already started planning their futures, imagining them playing soccer in the park, teaching them how to ride their bikes. He had even started sketching out nursery designs, his eyes sparkling with excitement.

Rain, Phayu thought, his mind a blank canvas of despair. My Rain. The world had shrunk to this sterile white room, the sterile scent of antiseptic a constant assault on his senses. The beeping of the monitor was a cruel metronome, each beat a hammer blow against his already shattered heart. He was supposed to be here, Phayu thought, the words a hollow echo in his mind. He was supposed to be holding our sons, telling them stories, singing them lullabies.

The image of Rain holding their children, his face alight with fatherly love, was a cruel phantom, a constant, agonizing reminder of what might have been. We were supposed to be a family, Phayu thought, the words a choked sob in his throat. We were supposed to grow old together, watch our sons grow into men.

He felt a profound emptiness, a void where joy and laughter once resided. The world had lost its colour, everything muted, drained of life. He was a statue, frozen in time, his soul shattered by the suddenness of their tragedy. He's fighting, he whispered, the words barely audible. He has to fight. But even as he uttered the words, he knew the fragility of hope, the precariousness of life.

He looked at Rain, his hand still resting on his skin, his eyes filled with a mixture of love, grief, and a desperate, clinging hope. Please wake up, Rain, he pleaded silently. For us. For our sons.