A gust of wind greeted him as he lazily strolled out of the university gates. Akson promptly took a motorcycle taxi back to his dormitory. The mundane irregularities of the day propelled him forward. He had grown somewhat accustomed to the convenience of dorm life, yet he still found it difficult to adjust to being away from home. Especially to the experience of living with strangers he had never met before. Or perhaps... we might not exist in each other's worlds at all.
Everything seemed entirely out of place.
"Good evening," he greeted the landlady who was mopping the stairs. She turned to look at him immediately, her ability to smile so effortlessly at others almost unbelievable. Akson was puzzled but smiled back. He then heard her hoarse yet cheerful voice.
"Good evening, dear. Done with classes?"
"Yes," he replied.
"How's everything? Any problems in your room?"
Such a simple question was, in this context, remarkably difficult to answer. Akson did not reply right away, as there was much to carefully consider. It wasn't just a problem—it was a significant one.
Someone was in the mirror of his room.
We spoke to each other.
We lived together.
Yet we didn’t know each other.
"Well? You don't like it, dear?"
"Not at all, no problems. Excuse me," Akson replied, raising his hands in a polite gesture before heading to his room. Avoiding the issue might only pile problems onto his shoulders, but he still chose that path. The young man let out a heavy sigh, having once again failed to share the truth about the mirror with anyone.
The mirror that connected two worlds...
In the current situation, where everything teetered between reality and the bizarre, Akson only knew that Songcham had moved into the new dorm on the same day as he had. Ironically, Akson had never believed in coincidences throughout his life, and even now, he remained skeptical. Still, blaming coincidence seemed the simplest explanation.
The boy had told him that he hadn't mentioned the situation to anyone yet. Understandably, it wasn't something easy for others to believe. Thus, they agreed that, while seeking their own answers, both would act as though nothing had happened.
No mirror, no strange occurrences—just two people sharing the same room.
"How was class today?"
As soon as Akson entered the bedroom, he heard a voice from the other side of the mirror. He walked closer to the glass, staring at the young man dressed in a school uniform, casually strumming a guitar at the foot of the bed, one leg crossed over the other.
"It was fine... Why are you back so early today?"
"The school had an activity," Songcham replied, glancing up at Akson, who was removing his student shirt to change into his favorite t-shirt. "Are you going out?"
"Heading home."
"Will you be back in the room?"
"Of course."
"Will it be late?"
"I’m not sure…"
"If you come back late, please be careful," Songcham said, returning to strumming his guitar. Akson glanced at him briefly before stepping up to the mirror again, his hands stuffed into his pockets as he listened intently to the soft melody from the acoustic guitar.
"Play me a song."
"Aren't you in a hurry?"
"Just one song."
Akson's slightly demanding nature was undeniable. However, Songcham found it hard to refuse, as Akson's brief words and unusually gentle tone seemed to simplify everything.
There was no need to complicate matters, so Songcham obliged.
A song Akson had never heard began to flow, slowly and carefully, from Songcham's fingers, weaving an enchanting melody. It brought a gentle smile to Akson's face. How long he had been listening, he didn’t know. He focused on every beat, every note, as if the music were alive.
The amateur musician eventually lifted his gaze from his fingers and looked toward Akson. For a fleeting moment during the song, their eyes met.
Akson continued smiling as the song came to an end. A light but deliberate round of applause followed, clear enough for the talented artist. Songcham stood and gave a playful bow, knowing it would make Akson laugh—and, indeed, they both laughed together.
"Impressive."
"Not quite that much, really," Songcham replied.
"Humble, too."
"You’re the first audience I’ve ever had," Songcham added with a soft smile.
"The first..." Akson repeated the word, unsure if he had inadvertently smiled as Songcham averted his gaze. For reasons neither could explain, the sound of the guitar seemed to linger heavily in both their hearts.
Clearing his throat, Akson walked over to pick up his phone and wallet. He turned to look at Songcham, who remained seated in the same spot. "I'm heading out."
"Take care," Songcham replied.
"Yeah," Akson nodded, unsure of how else to respond, hiding his slight embarrassment at those words.
~~~
He left the dorm before nightfall. The air was cool and pleasant, but it did little to match the icy weight in his chest. It wasn’t easy returning to that place after only a few days.
The taxi carried him along familiar streets. Who would have thought going home could feel this difficult? Waves of anxiety flooded him, intensifying the sting of frayed relationships. What was his father doing? Had his father finished work? Did he even want to see his son’s face?
The house was as quiet and lonely as ever, but now, the warmth that once filled it seemed to dissipate a little more each day. Akson entered his room and packed three of his mother’s cherished books into his bag. This was the excuse he told himself—he came home for the books he treasured. Yet deep down, he knew he wanted his father to know he still cared.
Akson wandered around the house out of habit. Not much had changed, aside from the pile of beer cans that had accumulated. While cleaning up the empty cans and placing them in a trash bag, he heard the sound of a car pulling into the driveway.
"You're back?" he greeted first, his voice calm and restrained as his father walked in. Akson held back his emotions, even in his father’s presence. The older man didn’t look at him, heading straight to the fridge to grab a beer and open it.
He didn’t even acknowledge Akson’s existence.
"Don't drink so much, Dad," Akson said softly.
"Didn’t you say just a few days ago that you’d never come back to this house again?" the middle-aged man remarked, taking another swig of his beer. His son looked back at him, his eyes filled with bitterness and disappointment.
"If it weren’t for Mom’s books, I wouldn’t have come back."
"Big talk. Don’t come crying to me in a day or two saying you want to come home again."
"Well, I’m not weak like you!" Akson shouted, his voice echoing. It was the same argument they always had, fueled by words that cut too deeply. Yet his father didn’t seem to care that his only son had left the house.
"Hah... weak, am I?"
"Yes. Someone who only cares about himself every single day isn’t strong enough to be anyone’s father."
"Akson!"
"You seem glad I’m not around..." the boy retorted, his voice trembling with anger as tears welled up in his eyes. He gritted his teeth when the beer can was hurled at his face with force.
"Go wherever you want!"
On the way back to the dorm, Akson couldn’t stop hoping his father would call him back, would beg him to stay. It had always been just the two of them, father and son, and starting over without family seemed an impossible task.
But instead, what his father left him with was a bruise on his forehead and words that told him to leave as though they meant nothing.
Akson walked out of the house without looking back. He didn’t see the lonely figure of his father, gripping the hand that had thrown the beer can so tightly it trembled. The man’s sorrowful eyes followed the last person he had in his life as he walked away from the house for the second time.
"I’m sorry," the father whispered.
But nothing could be fixed.
Akson hurried back to his dorm, feeling as though he had nowhere else to turn. The simmering anger swelled in his chest, but he had to keep it contained the entire way. The darkening sky masked the pain in his eyes, but his strength gave way as soon as he stepped into his room. Akson cried openly, burying his face into his knees as though they were the only solace in his life, the only thing that could dry his tears.
His father’s words echoed relentlessly, growing louder and clearer until he could no longer hold himself together.
"Is that you, Phii?"
The startled voice made Akson press his lips tightly shut. Songcham had left the lights on, their brightness revealing him clearly. Luckily, the room on Akson’s side remained in darkness, and Songcham could only make out a faint shadow in the mirror.
"It’s me," Akson replied, though his voice wavered despite his effort to keep his emotions under control. Songcham had no intention of prying, but the sound of crying moments ago had left him concerned.
"Are you crying?"
Akson said nothing. He lifted his hands to cover his face and continued sobbing. If he couldn’t hide it, he might as well let it all out.
Songcham sat in front of the mirror, his worry evident. He wasn’t used to seeing this person cry so painfully, as though the weight of the world was crushing him. The other hadn’t turned on the lights, as if trying to shield even the smallest fragment of vulnerability from being seen. In the end, Songcham could only sit there silently, keeping him company until the sound of sobbing began to fade.
He wanted to go over, sit beside him, and say, "It’s going to be okay."
But all Songcham could do was this.
The dim light from outside cast the shadow of a broken figure piecing himself back together. Songcham watched as his roommate wiped his tears furiously and took deep breaths to soothe himself. After what felt like an eternity, Akson stood and went to turn on the light.
The young man’s eyes widened. He knew Akson must have gone through something terrible, but seeing that deeply pained face up close unsettled him. He disliked how powerless he felt, unable to offer any comfort in any way.
"See? I didn’t stay out late," Akson said, trying to act as though nothing had happened, though his voice wavered. His eyes were swollen, and his nose was as red as a tomato. Seeing this, Songcham, still seated, smiled gently.
"Yes, not late at all."
"You’ll have puffy eyes in class tomorrow for sure."
"Maybe take a shower? It might help," Songcham suggested.
"Yeah, you’re right," Akson agreed and headed to the bathroom immediately. After crying so hard that it felt as though he had no tears left to shed, the weight of everything seemed to lift slightly.
Perhaps it was because someone had been there to witness it alongside him.
Akson spent some time showering and changing into fresh clothes. When he returned to his room, he noticed Songcham busy with something on his side of the dorm. He couldn’t ignore it, especially when the younger man looked so focused and slightly worried.
"What are you doing, Songcham?"
"Preparing something for you, Phii," Songcham replied.
For me?
"I wasn’t sure what kind of movies you like, so I brought out everything I had," Songcham said, glancing back at him with a smile. He placed nearly ten movie discs on the floor, arranging them neatly before gesturing for Akson to pick one. "Which one should we watch?"
"Are we going to watch a movie?"
"Yes, I’ve already set up the projector. That way, Phii can see everything clearly," Songcham said with a smile that hadn’t left his face.
Akson looked at the young man, still smiling at him, wondering why Songcham suddenly suggested watching a movie. But maybe... a movie could help him forget some of the bad things, even if just for a little while.
"Why don’t I recognize any of these titles?"
"Really? These are the most popular films around here," Songcham replied.
"Is that so..." Akson knelt down to carefully examine all the movie discs. In the end, he pointed to the one with the most eye-catching cover. "Let’s watch this one."
"Got it! Just a moment," Songcham said, gathering up the other discs to put them away. He quickly set up the chosen movie. The white wall of the room transformed into a screen for the film they would watch together—for the first time.
Akson gazed at the reflection in the mirror before him, smiling. Songcham’s hair came into sharp focus in his line of sight, closer than ever.
And as soon as the movie began... they both became entranced.
Time seemed to move slowly. Songcham’s laughter made Akson laugh. Songcham’s smiles brought smiles to Akson’s face, even though he knew the younger man was just trying to cheer him up.
And it worked... it really did.
"If we were closer, I’d go buy some popcorn from the shop near the dorm. It’s the best," Songcham said, glancing at Akson, who was hugging a pillow on the other side. He felt delighted to see the older man smiling and seemingly enjoying the movie he’d chosen.
"We’re only separated by this glass pane," Akson replied, his voice slightly nasal from crying earlier. It sounded gentler than usual to Songcham. "Isn’t this close enough?"
"Yeah... but why does it still feel so far away?" Songcham murmured.
Akson let out a laugh, and Songcham froze.
"What’s so funny?"
“I’m laughing at you. If you want popcorn, just go buy it. Don’t worry about me,” Akson said.
But the younger man shook his head as if he disagreed with what Akson had said.
"I didn’t mean that at all."
"Then what do you mean?" Akson tilted his head, listening with a soft gaze. He felt more content with their conversation than with the movie playing on the screen.
It was strange, because the movie was quite enjoyable.
"I mean... it would be nice if we could actually share some popcorn," Songcham said. His words seemed to drift in the air, as both the speaker and listener fell into silence at the sentence.
It was amusing that something as simple as sharing popcorn had become so difficult, because no matter what... sharing anything, or even everything in life, with someone else must be a remarkable thing.
Because between us, there is always impossibility in possibility. Even though we are only a few centimeters apart, we can’t feel each other’s breath.
"Thank you for making me feel better, Songcham."
Yet, despite everything, we still existed—smiling at each other, caring for each other, and standing beside each other.
"You're welcome."
Even though, in reality, we were so far apart…
Comments
Post a Comment