#suputyuth

.post episode 10;

 AO3

Until one of us is dead

Something always felt odd. As if something was not like it should. Something didn’t fit right with him. Never. It was an unsettling feeling that constantly had gloomed at the back of his head. A familiar feeling that he knew he would guess anywhere… only if he could remember it, because it seemed that no matter how hard he tried, it always died at the top of his tongue.

It almost never bothered him. Well, not really. It was a part of the deal. Brains came with paranoia. He knew that. He had realized it long ago. It had made him vigilant. It had sharpened his senses and yet, it just lingered there. Like a soothing lullaby, meant go keep him docile. He never felt at his capacity. Never reached the peak of his existence.

It has just made him tired.

That constant feeling.

It had gotten worse when he had been in hiding. When he had spent days alone. In an empty house that kept reminding him of another life. When nothing was this bad. When Nate was okay and Yuth—

Yuth.

Yuth.Yuth. Yuth.

Who was Yuth?

Why did it sound more than familiar.

Yuth was his friend, his best friend, right?

“Yuth…” rolled off his tongue, as if air rushing to escape the depth of the void that his life had become.

It did feel familiar, but not to his friend. Not to anyone else. He couldn’t connect it to another person, it was close to him. It was something he had known his whole life.

It all made sense.

The way he always jumped when he heard that name. The way he always reluctantly turned to his friend every time somebody called his name.

“Yuth…”

It felt like him.

“Yuth…”

And all the times it called to him.

“Yuth…”

And those moments when he was drowning in who he was.

“Supot…” he whispered hoarsely.

That was his own name.

Right?

It just made sense.

And all the nightmares came to reality. Clashing waves throwing him on the ground, tossing him in their embrace. Memories washing over him. Tidal winds running down his spine. Fingers getting numb, mind failing. Whirlwind of everything that should be a memory, buried beneath his choices.

Still, it’s different. He can’t recall these memories. He can’t understand why he has them. They do not feel like home. It’s all too foreign. It frightens him to extends it rationally shouldn’t.

But all the pieces fit.

Every single time he didn’t feel in his skin. Every time doubt crawled in his mind. Every word he had said. It all fit. They were never his words. It was never his thoughts.

But he was too tired. The outcome would always be the same. He knew it.

He knew what and who his best friend was, he knew what he had done to him. He remembered when it happened. He understood the part that always escaped him. He was not Supot, he never was. That was his so called friend.

And in that split second he finally felt free.

The doubts, the fear, everything that was holding him down all those years was finally clear. It was there for him to see. To understand, to grasp.

And back then he could’ve been angry, he could’ve confronted the man responsible for his mess of existence. He really could’ve. Yet, he had not. He had played along. He had stayed In the exact same place, where he had been all those years. He had chosen to not make a difference.

From there on it had become nothing but a downfall.

He had never believed that his friend was dead. He had gone over that memory countless times in his head and it never made sense. At first, maybe, but after thinking it through, it just never felt like it could be real.

And it wasn’t.

As he was standing right infront of him.

And everything he said made sense. It was clear before, but now he knew why.  Yet, he didn’t understand why he reacted the way he did. As if he didn’t know. As if he makes an effort it won’t be all in vain. But… it was. He had no control. He was helpless and it made him feel small, insignificant. As much as he tried to reason, to fight, it was of no use. He had no powers, he never had. And he knew it, yet he kept the hope, that it’s just his paranoia. And it wasn’t. It was all too real suddenly. He had hit a wall. There was no way out. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide.

Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew this is how it’ll end. He had known for a while.

“If death is the only thing that stops you, why don’t you die now? You won’t have to deal with repeated failures. Because you know well that, whether you die now or later, you will never be able to bring me down.”

The words had echoed through his ears, as if the world had gone deaf. Everything had gone still, numb. There was only the scaring pounding of his heart. The rapidly increasing beats, as he picked up his makeshift blade. The way he was suffocating in his breathing, as he couldn’t gain control, as he didn’t even try.

It was all too futile.