Tony S.
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I had already signed the enlistment papers before I told Ken. For a while, I tried to make that sound braver than it was. I told myself I had done it because I needed the decision to be mine before anyone else got a hand on it. I told myself waiting until afterward was practical, maybe even merciful. But the truth was simpler. If I had looked my brother in the eye before signing, I might not have signed at all. The folder sat inside my backpack while I watched the last footba
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Kent Nakamura enlists in the United States Marine Corps, believing distance is the only way to protect the person he loves. Over the next thirteen years, war, brotherhood, sacrifice, and forbidden love shape him into a respected Marine leader, while the battlefield leaves behind wounds no one can see. As he struggles to find his place beyond the uniform, Kent must confront the invisible scars of war and discover what it truly means to keep living. Safe Distance is a prequel to Still Alive, Dumbass, but can be enjoyed as a standalone novel.
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Full Synopsis At eighteen, Kent Nakamura leaves home and enlists in the United States Marine Corps, believing that distance is the only way to protect the people he loves. Over the next thirteen years, war, brotherhood, sacrifice, and unexpected relationships shape him into a respected Marine leader—but the battlefield leaves behind wounds that no one else can see. As Kent struggles to find his place beyond the uniform, he must confront the invisible scars of combat, the weight of forb
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Damn this is harsh.
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As I mentioned that it's based on my real life experience. Tommy may not have the proper closure but he has to move on keeping the memories of him and Brian with him forever. The ending might upset some of you guys but that's the reality. If I changed something, it'd have been a complete fiction and that's not what I wanted this story to be.
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Tommy almost didn’t go. The invitation had sat unopened for days before he finally clicked on it, more out of habit than intention, and even then he had stared at the screen longer than necessary, as if the act of acknowledging it might pull him backward into something he had spent years learning how to live without. High school reunions belonged to people who carried their pasts lightly, who could revisit them without feeling the weight of everything that had been left unresolved. Thi
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It had been three years by then. Long enough for the edges of memory to soften, though not enough for them to disappear. Tommy had learned how to live around it, how to let the past settle into something that no longer demanded constant attention. It existed the way certain things always do—quietly, persistently, woven into the shape of his thoughts without interrupting them. He knew Brian wanted to be “normal,” so he did not expect to hear Brian’s voice again. Which was why, when
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Tommy did not follow him. For a few seconds after Brian walked away, he remained where he was, as if the ground beneath him had not quite decided whether to hold or give. The others lingered awkwardly, their earlier ease gone, replaced by the quiet discomfort of having witnessed something they were not meant to be part of. No one spoke. One of the boys shifted his weight, another cleared his throat like he might say something and then thought better of it. In the end, they did what people a
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Brian did not come back all at once. By the time he returned, it was already the beginning of Grade 10, a year that was supposed to feel like a continuation of everything that had come before, not something fractured and rearranged. He had passed Grade 9 in absence, carried through by the assignments he completed from hospital beds and quiet rooms at home, work sent back and forth in careful exchanges that allowed him to remain part of something he was no longer physically present for. Even
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Writing this story stirred up memories I'd buried a long time ago. In some ways, it messed me up more than I expected. But at the same time, it brought me a quiet sense of warmth. For the first time in years, I was able to revisit those memories—not just the pain, but also the happiness that came with them. I can only hope the readers enjoy it as much as I do.
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By the end of their first term, the shift did not come all at once. If Tommy had been asked, later, to point to the exact moment when something began to feel wrong, he would not have been able to. It was not a single incident, not a dramatic collapse or a clear, undeniable change, but rather a series of small, almost forgettable details that gathered quietly at the edges of his awareness until they could no longer be ignored. At first, it was just absence. Brian missing a class he
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Thank you, guys. At first I was hesitant whether I would post this story or just keep it in my archive. It's a short story but has a very deep meaning to me because the fundamental of the story is based on my real life experience from years ago. I've watched Your Name Engraved Herein on Netflix multiple times and it inspired me to write my own story and publish it. If you haven't watched this movie yet, I highly recommend it. Though a short ride this may be, I hope you're looking forward to it and enjoy it.
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In 2001, at a Catholic boarding school defined by strict rules and quiet expectations, Tommy Harrington expects nothing more than to blend into the background. Everything changes when he meets Brian McFadden, a charismatic, fearless boy who pulls him into a friendship unlike anything he has ever known. As the years pass, their bond deepens through shared secrets, quiet moments, and unspoken feelings. In a world where some truths are too dangerous to name, Tommy and Brian must navigate the fragile space between friendship, love, and everything left unsaid.
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There are some places that do not leave you, even when you have long since left them behind. For Tommy Harrington, St. Augustine’s Boarding School was one of those places that clung not just to memory, but to the quieter, more private corners of him that time had never quite managed to soften. Even years later, when everything else had blurred into something gentler and more forgiving, the school remained precise in its details: the scent of varnished wood rising faintly from the chapel pews, th
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Thank you everyone for reading along. I hope you enjoyed the journey. While I originally wanted to continue the story, I feel that Kent’s chapter has naturally come to an end. He isn't a hundred percent well yet, but he is healing and growing more self-aware. My hope is that this story brings a deeper understanding of depression, PTSD, and grief. To anyone diagnosed with depression, or anyone learning how to care for a loved one struggling with it, I hope Kent's story brings you some comfort and helps you cope.
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Dr. Ratchanon’s office looked exactly the same as it had the last time I sat in it, which felt almost absurd given how much had shifted inside me. The same neutral walls. The same low bookshelf. The same two chairs facing each other at a deliberate angle that discouraged confrontation and encouraged honesty. I lowered myself into the chair slowly. The jet lag had mostly faded, but my body still felt like it was recalibrating to humidity and routine. Or maybe it wasn’t jet lag at al
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Bangkok met me the way it always did, without ceremony and without apology. The airport doors parted and the air folded around me—dense, humid, faintly sweet with jet fuel and street food and the metallic trace of rain waiting somewhere beyond the skyline. Traffic pulsed outside in familiar disorder, taxis inching forward, motorbikes threading between them with reckless grace. New Jersey had felt suspended in memory, like a photograph I had stepped back into for a necessary errand. Thi
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Maybe citrus would be more realistic 😆 Why did I go with palm tress in the beginning?
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The morning after the verdict, the house was quiet in a way that felt almost staged, as if the world had decided to dim itself in recognition of something concluded. No reporters. No calls from detectives. No legal updates. The machinery of justice, which had been grinding steadily for weeks, had finally fallen silent. I woke earlier than I needed to and lay still, staring at the ceiling of my childhood bedroom. Jet lag had been tugging at me all week, pulling me awake at hours that belonge
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The courtroom was smaller than I expected. Not physically small, but contained—wood-paneled, fluorescent-lit, arranged with an almost bureaucratic indifference to the magnitude of what it held. The gold and blue seal of the State of New Jersey hung behind the judge’s bench. The air conditioning hummed softly. Papers shuffled. Someone coughed two rows behind us. It felt obscene that something so ordinary could house the worst night of my life. I sat between my parents, hands restin
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Dr. Ratchanon’s office was quiet in a way that never felt performative. There were no dramatic design choices meant to signal calm, no overthought décor. Just a desk, two chairs facing each other at a comfortable distance, a low bookshelf against the wall, and a window that let in steady afternoon light without turning harsh. It was the kind of room that did not try to impress you. It simply existed and waited for you to do the same. I sat across from him, hands loosely clasped, elbows rest
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Just wanna say that although I don't reply to many comments, I've been reading all of them and I'm very thankful. It's always good to see you guys discuss each chapter or share your thoughts. So thank you very much, guys.
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The decision settled into me long before I said it out loud. For several days I carried it the way you carry something fragile in your pocket — aware of its shape, testing its weight against the lining of everything else. It wasn’t dramatic or reactive. It didn’t feel like defiance or surrender. It felt like… alignment. That was how I knew it was real. Dinner that night was simple — fried fish, stir-fried vegetables, rice that Devon insisted was too dry even though he ate two serv
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That night, back inside my condo, the quiet felt different from the kind that had followed courtrooms and police calls. It wasn’t heavy with anticipation. It wasn’t sharpened by calculation. It felt… open. I stood by the window for a long time, looking out over the river, the lights from ICONSIAM still glowing faintly in the distance like something we had just stepped out of rather than returned from. The day replayed in fragments — Devon’s grin at the door, Marvin’s tentative smile on the
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