After Perth agreed to stay with Yacht, Son hadn't progressed for the better.
The first three days, he stayed in Prem's room, on his bed staring or sitting by the window pane staring out into the street, only getting up to use the bathroom. Bathing proved to be another difficult task (other than eating), Prem had to coax him into the bathroom but when it was time to take his shirt off he would resist. Not wanting anymore eyes on his naked body because clearly, Perth left some lasting marks - one seemed brutal. They resorted to Son bathing in clothes.
Whenever Prem had to leave for work (it was true, he was getting promoted), he worried of leaving Son alone but the young one said he'd be okay so Prem believed him. Sighing as he close his bedroom door and the view of Son chewing on a piece of bread slowly while his eyes stared blankly into space disappeared. His anxiety only dissipated when he came home and found Son still breathing, though still in an almost catatonic state but breathing, the boy was okay.
On the fourth day, Prem came home to a letter addressed to Son in their complex's mailbox. The handwriting was of someone he knew, the almost cursive but messy writing - the hand writing of a future doctor - it gave it all away. He knew somehow what it contains, most would include words of repent and regret but having being ethical, though wanting so badly to know what the letter 's contents, Prem passed the envelope to Son, who was at that moment he returned was in his usual seat by the window.
Prem left the boy to read the mysterious letter while he went off to the kitchen to make dinner, only to return later, announcing he had made some skillet rosemary chicken, finding Son with tears running down his pale cheek while holding the letter close to his chest. Prem never did ask what Perth had written; he thought it was best to leave it at that.
Then the second letter came the next day, the third and the fourth the next few days consecutively - it kept coming. One letter for each day from Perth to Son. The good thing about these letters was that Son actually got out of Prem's room to retrieve them. Sometimes when Prem had the night shift, he would be watching telly with the boy in the living area till he perked up at a specific time (5 in the afternoon to be exact) in which a letter from Perth would arrive. Prem, knowing what Son wanted without him even speaking (it was so clear in his blue eyes), got up from his sit to walk down to where the mailboxes were and just as he arrived he saw a flop of hair (it was longer than how Prem remembered it being) leaving, out into the cold outdoors.
He smiled to himself thinking that Perth went to this extent of coming everyday from Yacht's house (in which the tube and a bus is needed to get there) just to pass a letter to Saint. It marveled him, how much Perth changed - Perth used to care for no one but himself. And even when Son still couldn't forgive Perth of what he did yet, neither could Prem, the letter at least helped the boy smile once in a while with certain parts of its content. Prem presumed it to be Perth telling him a funny occurrence through his writing.
It was the 23rd letter Prem fetched from Son one evening he returned. He had overstayed at the café till seven due to a clumsy waitress dropping hot coffee onto a customer's crotch. Surely enough, Son was waiting for him (or more precisely, waiting for the letter) by the door.
"Hey, Son" Prem greeted, shrugging of his coat and hiding the letter behind his back.
Son's eyes were full of hope even with the dark circles under his eyes from the lack of sleep he's been getting and he brought his sleeve covered hands to bite on his nail "is it here?"
Prem pulled the boy's hand away from his mouth and kissed the top of his head "Of course. But before that, tell me you've finished the lunch I made you."
Son ran into the kitchen and grabbing the empty plate, showing it to Prem. "Yes, it was lovely, now can I have the letter?"
"Hmm," Prem pretended to inspect the empty plate, so far Son had been finishing almost all his meals, he still ate scarcely and Boun advised Prem to serve the dishes he made in little amount to the boy, increasing the amount day by day so that at least, he eats. "Say please."
