The Unfinished Song

Gemini couldn't get the sound of Fourth's voice out of his head.

That song—the one he had heard Fourth sing that night—kept playing in his mind, an echo that refused to fade. He remembered the way Fourth's voice had carried through the air, soft yet full of something raw, something unspoken. It wasn't just a melody; it was a feeling. A lingering question.

And Gemini wanted to understand it.

A gentle breeze stirred the evening air, carrying with it a sense of something familiar.

สายลมพัดเบา ๆ นำพาคืนวันเก่าให้หวนคืนมา

(Sai lom phat bao bao nam pha khuen wan kao hai huan khuen ma)

"The gentle breeze carries back the days we once knew."

เสียงหัวเราะของเธอยังคงก้องอยู่ในหัวใจ

(Siang hua ro khong thoe yang khong kong yu nai hua chai)

"Your laughter still echoes inside my heart."

And maybe that was why, when Gemini walked into the café that evening, he didn't hesitate.

The dim glow of the hanging lights cast a warm hue over the wooden tables, the faint scent of coffee drifting through the air. Outside, the sun had dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of blue and violet.

เธอบอกว่าฤดูร้อนนี้คงเป็นเหมือนทุกครั้งไป

(Thoe bok wa rue du ron ni khong pen muean thuk khrang pai)

"You said this summer would be just like the ones before."

Gemini pulled out the chair across from Fourth, the scrape of wood against the floor catching the other's attention.

แต่ฉันรู้ดีว่าอะไรบางอย่างไม่เหมือนเดิม

(Tae chan ru di wa arai bang yang mai muean doem)

"But I know deep down that something has changed."

Fourth looked up, his fingers pausing over the strings. "What are you doing?"

"Teach me," Gemini said, his voice steady.

Fourth blinked. "Teach you what?"

"The song you were singing before."

There was a pause. Fourth's hands hovered over the guitar, as if debating whether to continue playing or set it aside. He lowered his gaze, lips pressing together.

"It's not finished," he admitted.

Gemini tilted his head slightly, studying him. "Then let's finish it."

"The song…?" Fourth hesitated before softly repeating the title.

"สายลมสุดท้าย" (Sai Lom Soot Thai)

- The Last Breeze."

His voice was quiet, almost uncertain, as if the name itself carried something fragile.

The café hummed softly in the background—distant conversations, the gentle clinking of cups, the occasional hiss of the espresso machine—but between them, there was only silence. A charged silence, filled with something unspoken.

Fourth exhaled, a slow and measured breath. There was hesitation in his eyes, but beneath it, something else.

Something that looked a lot like trust.

Without a word, he reached for the second guitar leaning against the wall and handed it to Gemini. Their fingers brushed for a fraction of a second—barely a touch, barely a moment—but it was enough to send a quiet shiver down Gemini's spine.

He took the guitar, settling it in his lap, fingers running over the familiar curves of the instrument. It had been a while since he last played, but muscle memory kicked in as he tested the strings, adjusting his grip.

Fourth was the first to start, plucking the opening notes of the melody. His fingers moved effortlessly, the music flowing from him like second nature. Gemini watched, listened, then tried to follow.

At first, he fumbled. His timing was off, his fingers pressing the wrong strings. A discordant note slipped out, breaking the rhythm.

Fourth chuckled. "You're rushing," he murmured with a small shake of his head. "Just let it flow."

Gemini huffed, adjusting his fingers. "Easy for you to say," he muttered, but he tried again.

This time, it was better. Not perfect, but better. The notes blended more smoothly, and slowly, they found a rhythm. Fourth nodded in approval, his lips curving into a small, almost imperceptible smile.

They played together, the melody stretching between them, growing fuller with each passing second. The café around them faded into the background—the sounds, the people, the world beyond this moment.

And then, without planning, without speaking—

They sang.

… แต่ถ้าเธอมองดวงดาว จะรู้ว่าฉันยังอยู่ตรงนี้

(Tae tha thoe mong duang dao cha ru wa chan yang yu trong ni)

"But if you look at the stars, you'll know I'm still here."

แม้ฤดูร้อนจะจบลงไป แต่ความทรงจำไม่เคยหายไป

(Mae rue du ron cha chop long pai tae khwam song cham mai khoei hai pai)

"Even if summer ends, our memories will never fade."

หากเธอฟังเสียงของหัวใจ มันยังร้องเพลงเดิมให้เธอ

(Hak thoe fang siang khong hua chai man yang rong phleng doem hai thoe)

"If you listen to the sound of your heart, it's still singing the same song for you."

Their voices wove together, soft yet steady, carrying something deeper than words. Fourth's voice held a quiet ache, as if the song carried pieces of something he couldn't say out loud. Gemini's voice, in contrast, was warm—gentle, like a whisper against the summer wind.

And just like that, the song wasn't just a song anymore. It was a conversation. A confession. A promise.

Unspoken feelings clung to the air between them, lingering even after the last note had faded.

The café had fallen silent.

Gemini hadn't noticed when it happened, but at some point, the other customers had stopped talking. Some were watching, others had simply let the music wash over them. A few swayed gently, caught in the rhythm of something that felt almost nostalgic.

But in this moment, none of that mattered.

Because to Gemini and Fourth—

It was just them.

Their guitars. Their voices.

Their song.

A song that, for the first time, finally felt complete.

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