Archive of Our Own

Kim wakes up to the sound of Porsché crying.

Which wakes him the fuck up quicker than anything else. He sits up and leans over Porsché, seeing his boyfriend take deep breaths and hands cramping around his sheets.

“Chay? Baby, what’s wrong?” He tries to touch Porsché’s face, to move him closer but the younger man widens his eyes in panic and moves away before wincing and letting out a small cry of pain.

Something is clearly wrong and Kim has no idea what’s going on. The panic in him rises and only by a small miracle he does not completely freak out, pushing all his focus and attention toward his crying boyfriend instead.

Porsché is trembling. He keeps on tangling and untangling his shaking hands into the sheets as he moves centimeter by centimeter. He looks like he’s in a lot of pain.

Kim carefully leans over him, hands not touching but ready to catch Porsché if he needs him. “Chay, please. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Porsché looks into his eyes, searching for something. Kim holds eye contact, keeping his breathing steady. Porsché seems to find whatever he was looking for because he finally acknowledges him.

A soft cry: “P’Kim.”

“Yea, angel, I’m here. Tell me what’s wrong and I’ll fix it. I’ll call the doctor here really quick, okay?” He shushes Porsché affectionately. “It’s gonna be okay. It’ll stop soon.”

Somehow, that makes Porsché cry harder. “P’Kim no. Don’t.” He looks at Kim for a second, nods and grunts. Pushes himself up while holding back a scream. Kim, perfectly attuned to Porsché’s body like it’s his gravitation center, can hear it from his throat anyway.

It makes him tear up. If Porsché is in pain, it feels like Kim is in pain with him. He goes to protest but Porsché’s harsh intake of breath interrupts him.

“My backpack. Pills in the front pocket, water bottle inside. Please,” it must've taken Kim too long to respond because Porsché repeats himself, a small pathetic thing, “please P’Kim.”

That springs him into action. Carefully but quickly he moves around Porsché’s body to grab his backpack from the floor. They never go through each other’s personal stuff without permission and this, whatever the fuck is going on, has never happened before.

Kim fishes out the painkillers and pops one out, holding it in his palm while he opens the water with his other hand. He brings them to Porsché’s mouth. Thankfully, Porsché reaches out to gulp down the small pill and drink some more water.

He moves to grasp Kim’s wrist, his hand sweaty. He has the audacity to look at Kim with pity. “Don’t worry Phi, it’ll pass.” He sends Kim a crooked smile. “Stay with me please?”

“Of course, baby.” Like Kim would ever leave Porsché, especially when he’s in pain and asking him to stay.

“Just lay down, yeah, like that,” Porsché’s voice shakes, “and I’ll just…” He lays down next to Kim. It takes several tries, slow careful movements and hissing through his teeth. He ends up on his stomach, his body tensing up until he breathes out and relaxes.

“Angel?” None of this is making sense.

“It’s okay P’Kim, don’t worry. Just gotta lean into it, it’ll pass…” Chay drifts off, obviously not up for talking. Occasionally, small tremors pass through him and he does the breathing out and relax thing again.

Kim stays still, scared to move and wake Porsché up, to hurt him even more. Eventually, Porsché’s breath evens out and he falls back asleep.

Kim stays up the whole night, trying to calm the emotions inside of him. Already preparing for the worst and how to handle all the possible situations. He watches his Porsché’s face, scrunched up in pain even when he’s asleep. He’s going to fix this.

----------

If only Porsché would tell him what happened. But as much as Kim thinks his boyfriend’s stubbornness is a cute trait, it becomes really annoying when it’s directed at Kim.

“Porsché! You need to go to the doctor, it’s not normal!” Kim is not yelling. He would never raise his voice at Porsché. But damn, he almost wants to.

“P’Kim I told you to leave it! It’s fine, I can f.. handle it! It passed already!” To prove his point, he gestures around the uni clothes he’s wearing and the backpack on his shoulder. Porsché is clearly also holding back. He tends to cuss when he’s angry.

It’s almost comical when the two of them fight. Kim shuts down and shows no expressions on his face, his voice even and low, refusing to burst out the storm inside him. Porsché, on the other hand, throws his arms around a lot. He cusses and gets red in the face and cries from anger.

Kim loves him so much, even when he’s being kind of an asshole.

“Angel,” he sighs, crossing the room to join his boyfriend on their sofa. He holds his hands and interlocks their fingers. “I woke up to you crying. You looked so sick yesterday. I watched you the whole night. Something has to be wrong, this isn’t normal.”

He tries his best to sound kind and concerned, but it just makes Porsché tear up.

Great, Kim has no idea what he has done wrong. But obviously, he fucked up somehow, because he can see every single microexpression Porsché does before he placatingly smiles and leans in to kiss Kim’s cheek.

“I’m sorry P’Kim. I was just feeling a little sick. It won’t happen again,” he nods again as if that’s any consolation. Kim doesn’t know which one of them he’s trying to convince. He squeezes Kim’s hands before getting up. “Gotta go, or I’ll be late for my lecture.”

One last peck, one last smile and he’s gone. It’s all so fake Kim almost also feels sick because of it.

It leaves Kim sitting dumbly on their sofa. Across it, there’s Porsché’s hoodie he threw there last night. There’s soft indie music playing in the background from Porsché’s morning getting ready playlist. On the kitchen counter sits Porsché’s unfinished cup of coffee.

Porsché. Porsché. Porsché.

His entire apartment, his life, his own very being is full of Porsché. And Kim would never regret that, he wants to share everything he has with him.

He just thought the younger one was feeling the same.

---------------

If Kim was a better man, a patient one, he’d give Porsché his space and ask him again when it was appropriate. But Kim has always been too nosy for his own. Or anyone’s good, really.

And that’s how he finds himself sitting across from Porsche in the compound’s kitchen area.

Despite his angel’s insistence that the sun shines outside of his hia’s ass, Kim feels skeptical about the man. He no longer thinks he’s a traitor, but he’s not about to extend him any gratitude about it. That’s the bare fucking minimum. His bone to pick starts with leaving Porsché alone and not seeing him for the adult man he now is and ends with the fact Porsche warms his elder brother’s bed.

But at least Porsche and Kim agree on one thing: taking care of Porsché.

This is why it’s so baffling to him why Porsche isn’t even properly reacting to Kim dropping by his seat and saying: “I think Chay is sick and he refuses to go to the hospital. You might wanna talk to him.”

Porsche at least looks really really tired, Kim will give him that. There are almost black circles underneath his eyes, and he looks too pale. Even his voice sounds strained: “Did he get injured or is he just having a flare-up?”

Too bad Kim is also very tired: “What the fuck do you mean by just.”

Kinn shows up, because of course he does. He somehow looks even worse than Porsche. Kim doubts he even slept in the last two days. It happens sometimes when work gets extremely busy and everyone wants a meeting.

Not that it’s Kim’s problem. His problems and concerns lie and are limited to one nineteen-year-old angel who doesn’t want to do what’s best for his health.

“Is this your first time dealing with Chay’s flare-up?”

A beat. “Nothing was on fire yesterday?”

Kinn snorts into his rice porridge as he’s taking a bite. It’s disgusting. Porsche smiles at him with all the affection in the world and takes a napkin to gently wipe off the rice grains on Kinn’s lips. Kim contemplates fratricide.

Porsche laughs: “Whoa, all this rich kid money and education and you don’t even know what flare-up is?”

Kim rarely has any patience to spare, even less when it comes to Porsché. He rolls his eyes. “Fucking speak clearly for once.” Is there a word for the murder of your brother-in-law?

“Fucking watch your tone, Kim,” Kinn intervenes before Porsche replies. It’s probably for the better, with how Kim’s hand flies to the side of his jeans, where his gun is tucked. Probably.

Kim takes a deep breath, thinking about how his angel would be angry with him if he shot his elder brother. “Just tell me what’s going on.” For Chay, he’s doing it for Chay. “Please.”

Porsche looks at him for way too long, analyzing his face. It reminds Kim of how Porsché does the same when he’s deciding whether to tell Kim something or not. Apple really doesn’t fall far from the tree.

Porsche laughs: “I’m actually not that surprised that Chay didn’t tell you. He still thinks you personally put up the stars in the night sky or something,” Kim would do it if it made Porsché happy. It has to show on his face because Porsche makes a yuck sound, “he wouldn’t want to look weak in front of you.”

That makes Kim pause. “I would never think that of him.”

“Good. The kid can sometimes get stuck inside his head about it, don’t get too offended,” he puts a plate in front of Kim and gives him a generous portion. “A flare-up is when someone’s health condition suddenly gets much worse. Did Chay take pills?”

Nod.

“Did he look like he couldn’t sit still or find a good position?”

Nod.

“Was he close to crying?”

“He did cry.” That finally gets a wince out of Porsche.

Kinn rubs Porsche’s back as he speaks. “Yeah, that was a chronic pain flare-up. They tend to happen to Chay when he sleeps somewhere new.” He gives Kim a stink eye, still very unhappy about them moving together.

Chronic pain.

Porsché, his angel, has chronic pain? Kim’s head starts spinning. If you had told him a year ago that he’d be close to tears at the thought of someone else being in pain, he’d laugh. He was the enforcer of his family, the pain of others was his job. One he was really good at. Now, he wants to break down.

All he ever wants to do is protect Chay. Make sure he never gets hurt, ever. He has and will kill again and again to protect Porsché from harm. To learn that all along, he has been in pain that Kim never noticed? It devastates him.

How much did Porsché hide from him? How many times did Kim drag him out on a date, to work out with him, to lay down on an uncomfortable sofa with Kim because he wanted to? How many times did he fuck him while Porsché was in pain? He feels sick to his stomach.

He is a fucking asshole. A blind one at that.

“Tell me more. Everything I need to know.”

--------------

After Kim’s almost public breakdown and then actual private breakdown over his boyfriend having to suffer in silence, he has made up his mind. He will be extra careful and kind. He will not push Porsché into talking. He will just be there to always provide Porsché with the best he can.

He will be calm, cool and collected.

Which lasts a whole couple of hours, before he goes to pick up Porsché from school. He, unfortunately, doesn’t get to do this anywhere near as often as he would like, since he’s been busy juggling being back in the family business as well as still keeping his music career.

His thoughts are interrupted by Porsché sitting down in his car.

It’s a pity that all his usual thoughts about his pretty little boyfriend are pushed to the side. Because Porsché looks absolutely delicious. The heat outside is unforgiving. He’s sweating, small droplets sliding down his neck, skin tan and flushed. His hair is ruffled from when he ran his hands through it - a nervous habit he has when studying.

Not that Porsché is actually in any way little. He grew taller than Kim and his shoulders are broad, stretching over the thin fabric of his shirt. And he’s grinning at Kim like it’s the highlight of his week, just seeing each other. Kim loves him so much.

The affection is nothing new to him. Seeing his angel is usually followed by the need to kiss him senseless. What’s new is the shame that follows up and the way he zooms in on Porsché’s body language.

Is he hunching over because he’s in pain? Is he squirming in his seat because there’s something wrong?

“P’Kim?” Porsché looks at him with big eyes. Oh shit, is he going to cry? Is he flaring up?

“Angel,” cool and steady, Kimahnt. Just keep it cool and steady. Whatever Porsché says, Kim can take it. He will not lose his composure and will be the best boyfriend and nurse in one the Porsché could ever wish for.

Porsché takes a deep breath. “Are you mad at me?”

What.

“What.”

“It’s okay P’Kim! You can just honestly tell me I wanna know. I’m sorry I woke you up in the middle of the night, it was selfish of me. I,” Chay’s voice breaks, “I know you value your sleep so much and you’re so stressed and here I am taking this too far and annoying you and acting like a kid again and-”

“Porsché. Angel. Calm down.”

Chay startles at being interrupted. One of his knees is bouncing up and down - another stress tick. Kim places his hand on that knee, hoping to help him ease a bit.

“I am not mad at you at all.” He’s worried. He’s disappointed with himself. He’s sad Chay didn’t tell him sooner. “Don’t worry, okay?”

Chay’s hand covers his own. It’s cold and sweaty. “Okay.”

Yeah, everything is just okay.

------------------------------

Everything is not okay.

In the evening, once Porsché is done with his uni work and Kim has managed to get the Wik manager off his ass, they’re left alone in the silence of their apartment. That in itself is weird. Usually, Porsché would play music around the house, anything between the most recent pop songs that he heard on the radio and ended up having stuck in his head and random lofi compilations.

Instead, he can hear Porsché’s hard breathing as he lays down on their couch. Coming closer, Kim sees he has his eyes scrunched up. From pain?

Kim doesn’t want to ask him and make it worse. He remembers what Porsché told him earlier, about what Porsché needs when he’s in pain like this. Worried but also excited he gets a chance to prove he pays attention, and he grabs painkillers from his bag. He bought a new batch earlier, after consulting their family’s personal on-call pharmacist about what over-the-counter medicine is best for someone like Porsché.

He brings them to Porsché along with a water bottle. “Chay? Angel?”

Porsché opens his eyes and smiles at Kim before his eyes fall to the objects in Kim’s hands.

“Take these.” Kim offers.

Porsché stubbornly just shakes his hand. “No thanks.”

“C’mon angel, it’ll make you feel better.”

“Really, I’m good,” Porsché closes his eyes again.

Kim moves even closer. “It’s gonna be real quick.”

“P’Kim. No.” Porsché’s tone loses its usual affection that slips in whenever he’s speaking to Kim. He even turns around to put his back to Kim and groans as he does so.

Maybe he needs something else? Maybe Kim just needs to try harder.

He grabs another thing from his backpack. Apparently, a good smell can help as well. He doesn’t really get the science behind essential oils but some people say they can help. And Kim is willing to try anything. He puts a couple of drops on his hands, spreading them around before coming back to Porsché and sticking them under Porsché’s nose.

He gets coughing and “What the fuck?” in return. Porsché just bats Kim’s hands away.

“P’Kim, what are you doing?”

Be confident. Be there for him as a rock. “I’m helping you.”

He doesn’t know how Porsché manages to roll his eyes even though they’re still closed, but his angel is nothing if not talented. And a brat.

“By trying to poison me?”

Well, that didn’t work out. Quick, Kim. He needs to find another option. He thinks back on what he found online, on a forum about what can help.

Yes! “By trying to wake you up. Let’s do some stretches. That will do you good.”

Porsché shakes his head. “Not right now.”

“Chay, yes let’s go right now. It’ll help.”

“It won’t,” Porsché sounds irritated but Kim thinks he needs to just stay there for him, even when it’s rough.

“Yes, it will! You just need to give it a try,” he tugs at Porsché a little.

Finally, he turns around. Kim faces his boyfriend’s angry face as he gets up but instead of getting closer to Kim, he walks away, stomping the entire way.

“Angel! Chay! Where are you going?” No answer. “Porsché!”

“Don’t you always know best? You should know,” Porsché rolls his eyes and leaves the room.

Porsché tastes like cigarettes. It’s not a habit Kim expected from his angel; he doesn’t smoke, but the nicotine tastes maddening on his tongue.

Kim walked out of the shower, towel wrapped around his hips, and pretty much got pounced on by his boyfriend. He’s still in his outside clothes - a jeans and a shirt, moaning against Kim’s neck as he leaves wet, open-mouthed kisses there.

For all Porsché’s initial shyness when it came to sexual intimacy, he’s way too fucking good at making Kim lose his mind. Kim really shouldn’t have been surprised - Porsché always strives to get what he wants, and often what he wants is to be good at something. Kim is always more than willing to let determined Porsché practice on him.

Right now, he’s kissing Kim filthy and wet as he drags them back onto their shared bed. Once Porsché moved in, Kim actually started doing his bed in the morning, wanting to be seen as a proper, functioning adult who can cohabit with his partner. The extra plush of decorative blankets is appreciated now, with how Porsché forcefully separates their lips and yanks them down.

Porsché falls on his ass and Kim falls on Porsché, knee between Porsché’s. Before Kim has any time to collect his thoughts, Porsché’s hands tease the towel around his hips before dragging his palms upwards. His guitar-calloused fingertips dip into Kim’s abs, making him flex, as he pushes Kim to stand up straight.

He does so, breathing speeding up as he looks down at his handsome boyfriend. Porsché is gazing at him back through his eyelashes, and Kim knows he’s purposely trying to look wide-eyed and innocent. It sends a sharp bolt of arousal right into Kim’s stomach. He throws his head back and groans.

His boyfriend starts dragging his hands back down Kim’s body, stopping to pinch his nipples and run his knuckles over them, making Kim involuntarily buck his hips up. Porsché’s laughter is the only warning he gets as his towel gets thrown away, exposing his half-hardness to the air.

He feels Porsché’s hand squeeze around him and hears his appreciative hum: “You’re too fucking hot to handle.”

It makes Kim’s ego happily tingle as he opens his eyes to look back at Porsché. He winks and finally puts his mouth on him, rubbing his spit-slick lips on the head, all while keeping eye contact.

And really, Kim can barely take how sexy his boyfriend usually is, eyes fixated on his plushy lips every time he speaks. He can’t take the sight of them wrapped around his dick. Squeezing his eyes shut, he tries to focus on not getting too carried away. Something in the back of his mind is telling him to slow down.

He feels a hot tongue digging into his slit, mapping out the vein on the side and pressing a fleeting kiss to his balls. Kim moans, a low thing in the back of his throat, and more feels than hears Porsché giggle.

He opens his eyes again to find Porsché grinning at him with a string of salvia connecting the tip of his dick and his lips. Kim reaches out to sweep his thumb over Porsché’s lips and starts smearing the mixture of precum and saliva around his chin and cheeks.

“What got into you, angel?”

Porsché happily wiggles at the pet name and leans into Kim’s hands. “I was gonna apologize for snapping at you earlier,” he traces the length up and down, “and I will, properly, but you can consider this part of the apology, hm?”

He leans down and takes Kim as far as he can. He chokes and his throat spasms around Kim.

But Kim is more focused on what Porsché just said. Suddenly, instead of enjoying his boyfriend’s perfect warm mouth, he can only see how hunched over Porsché is, how he’s literally choking right now, and how Kim doesn’t know if Porsché is not in pain.

He wants to handle this calmly. Change the direction of Porsché’s attention, make him lie down on the soft bed and make Porsché feel good. Really smooth.

Kim grips Porsché’s hair and pulls him off his dick, the sudden movement making Porsché break into coughs.

His voice sounds wrecked: “P’Kim?”

God, Kim is such an asshole. “I’m sorry, angel, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m great! Why did you stop?”

Let’s not talk about it. Kim really doesn’t want to press Porsché about it. Just be casual, like Porsche suggested. “Leaning over like this is not good for your body. Let’s lay down, hm?”

Kim expects Porsché to smile the way he does when Kim does anything small that shows he listens and cares, like when he buys him food he passingly mentions he’s been craving or turns on the night light after Porsché stays up reading without noticing time has passed and the sun has set down.

Instead, his face hardens and he rolls his eyes.

He actually rolls his eyes at Kim.

“Angel?”

“Oh, piss off!” Porsché snaps. “Stop acting like you know better than me about my own body!”

“Well sorry I care?” Kim can feel himself getting angry again. Why doesn’t Porsché appreciate what Kim does for him?

Porsché just scoffs at him.

“What the fuck?”

“Nothing,” his boyfriend gets up from the bed and heads to the bathroom.

Kim catches him by his elbow. “Porsché! Tell me what’s wrong so we can fix it.”

At that, Porsché rips away from his grip and tears up. A red flush travels across his chest, spreading from his pretty collarbones to his cheeks. It’s obvious he’s trying not to break down. “Of course, you always just want to fix everything.”

Kim takes a step closer. “What’s wrong with you?”

“NOTHING IS WRONG WITH ME! Would you fucking stop saying that? There’s absolutely nothing fucking wrong with me, stop trying to fix me!”

Silence overtakes their room. For a while, they stand in the tense atmosphere. Porsché is breathing hard and Kim is at a complete loss of words.

Then, Porsché breaks down.

He breaks hard, his entire body snapping with tension as he falls to the floor. The sound of his palm slamming against the wood echoes in the room. Kim can only take in the sound.

It looks just like that day when he broke Porsché’s heart. When he watched him in the mirror of his car, pretending not to look nor care. Porsché’s entire face is twisted with his sobs, eyes wide open staring at Kim. He brings one arm up to wrap it around himself, slowly moving it up and down his body.

Like it’s automatic, that he only has himself he can rely on comfort.

However, unlike the last time, he has Kim. And he’s not going anywhere. Not when his entire world is right in front of him.

He quickly crosses the distance between them, getting on his knees in front of Porsché. Gently, Kim places his hands on top of his angel’s and starts petting him as well. The slow touch makes Porsché flinch before he settles into it and closes his eyes.

Kim is almost thankful for it because he can’t handle the way Porsché is looking at him. Like he’s expecting him to leave. He leans forward, pressing a light kiss to Porsché’s forehead. “It’s okay, angel, I’m here. I’m not leaving. Whatever it is, I’m here with you.”

It takes a while, but eventually, Porsché stops shaking. Slowly turning his head, he nuzzles into Kim’s hold. Kim’s heart almost explodes with all the affection he feels for the younger man.

“I’m sorry.”

“Angel, you have nothing to be sorry for.” This part never gets easier. “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

He can feel Porsché smile. “Do you know why?”

Hesitantly, Kim shakes his head. It gnaws at him, not knowing how he hurt his most precious person in the world. When they got back together, Kim promised them both he’d never hurt Porsché again. Back then, Porsché laughed and said it was inevitable. He just asked Kim to not run and leave him alone again.

So he squeezes his arms strongly around Porsché one last time before pulling away. Porsché makes a small wounded sound and Kim quickly shushes him. He pulls back just far away enough to be able to look into Porsché’s eyes without going crossed-eyed.

“You’re right. I don’t.” Another hard part. “Tell me, please?” He almost says he wants to fix it, but his mind flashes a warning sign at him. It would probably make Porsché cry again.

Porsché’s eyes are red, his face patchy red with tears all over it. He looks beautiful as he slowly sighs, grabs Kim’s hand and gets up. Together, they lay down on the bed.

It should feel overly vulnerable and awkward, with Kim being naked. However, there’s nothing sexual about his nudity nor Porsché quickly taking off his jeans to snuggle into Kim’s embrace.

With their legs intertwined and Kim’s head on Porsché’s chest, he quickly throws a comforter over their legs.

For a while, it’s just the smell of Porsché’s laundry detergent mixed with his cologne and sweat and his hand playing with Kim’s hair. Several times, Kim hears Porsché take a breath, like he’s about to start speaking, only to end up staying silent.

Kim knows this means Porsché is just looking for the right words. For a while, it comforts him. He may have missed something big but he still knows all the small details about Porsché. He’s Kim’s and he knows his body better than he knows his own.

It makes him feel a little bit obsessed, whenever he can predict just exactly what Porsché will say or how he will react. Kim has always been good at observing other people, using the skill for whatever missions his father sent him to. Using it for murder and blackmail.

Now, it wasn’t born out of malice and the need to have complete control over someone else’s life. It was born out of the sheer love for Porsché that blooms in his chest. It makes him watch Porsché because he cannot get enough of him. After all, that’s when he feels most calm and at peace. He soaks up knowledge about Porsché’s likes and dislikes so he can be the perfect boyfriend Porsché deserves.

That’s how he knows when Porsché is about to speak up.

“I’m sick. You probably know as much, with the way you’ve been acting.”

Kim nods. “Porsche told me.”

“Hia needs to mind his business.” Kim feels guilty at hearing that. The relationship between the two brothers has been strained ever since Kim and Porsché announced their relationship. Simply because Porsché didn’t approve. It has gotten better, with time, but Porsché is still quick to anger when it comes to his elder brother.

“But,” Porsché continues, “I can hardly blame you for seeking more information. After I had a flare-up, it’s understandable you would want to know what happened.” He stays quiet for a bit longer, and when he finally speaks up, there are strong emotions laced in his tone: “If I woke up to you in pain like that, I would’ve lost my mind. I’m sorry you had to see that.

It’s easy to get stuck inside my own head and my own insecurities about it, but when I think about places being switched… I hate the idea of you being in pain.” He stresses the last sentence and Kim feels it in his bones.

“I should’ve asked you, you just-”

“I just didn’t want to tell you. I was so embarrassed,” Porsché laughs, “still am, to be honest.”

Kim frowns. “Baby, I would never judge you, for anything.” He looks up to look Porsché in the eyes. “I love you.”

Chay smiles down at him. “I know. It’s more like, I still judge myself. People have it worse, I should be able to bear with it. I shouldn’t whine about it.”

That’s… Kim’s heart clenches. This is the opposite of what Porsché has been saying to Kim whenever he gets into his head too much.

Porsché seems to know exactly what he’s thinking about. “Yeah, it’s... It’s like- different when it comes to me. I can see other people clearly but I am the exception.” He shakes his head. “I know I sound super illogical. But it’s hard to think clearly about all this shit.”

He brings one hand up to caress Kim’s cheek. “I know you meant well, and I know you love me, but you still did hurt me. I should’ve told you immediately, but I was too embarrassed.”

Kim leans into his touch. “Tell me, angel? Please.”

“You just… kept talking about wanting to fix me. Like there is something inherently wrong in me,” dread builds inside Kim’s stomach, “like I wasn’t good enough, because I’m broken. And I know you mean well, I really really do, but P’Kim… baby… this is all I’m going to be all my life. I don’t fucking want to be like this, but I will. I will never get better, and I had to accept that.

But… P’Kim, You kept bringing it up. I know you didn’t know, and it’s my fault for not telling you or correcting you, but it still hurts.”

Kim is an idiot. A massive asshole who has been blessed with an angel that he gets the absolute privilege of loving, and he still fucks it up. He never wanted to make his angel feel like he was not good enough for him.

He tries not to think about himself as not good enough for Porsché either. As his boyfriend always insists, they’re perfect for each other.

“What is it like for you? Every day?”

“It hurts. It’s uncomfortable. But it’s been like that for a long time, I barely register it. It’s there but it’s a normal part of my day. If I took a break every time I was in pain, I’d never get anything done. I just have to keep going, there’s nothing I can do to fix it. There’s nothing you can do to fix it.”

Kim wants to protest. He can get Porsché the best doctors in the country, in the world and wouldn’t stop until Porsché would feel better. Somehow sensing what Kim is thinking about - as always, Porsché knows him better than Kim knows himself - he carefully holds Kim’s face between his palms.

It still shocks him sometimes, how gently Porsché holds him. Like he’s something fragile that he wants to treasure and protect. Like Kim hasn’t murdered and tortured in cold blood again and again.

“P’Kim, look me in the eyes. I need you to listen to me very carefully right now, okay?”

Kim nods.

“I will not get better. I may have better days, but ultimately, I will always come back to being in pain. I will have bad days. I will be in pain on a daily basis,” it’s hard to hold eye contact but Porsché doesn’t let him look away, “I need you to understand that. Please.

It’s chronic pain. It’s always going to be here, and in a way, it’s part of me now. I accepted that long ago. I don’t want to live my life being sad about something I cannot change. The best thing I can do is to take the pain and take care of myself to the best of my abilities.”

The speech sounds confident. Rehearsed, almost. Like it’s something Porsché would repeat to himself. Kim can almost see it - Porsché, curled up, in pain, trying to convince himself to get up instead of staying under blankets in the morning. Telling himself his own pain doesn’t matter. But it does.

Kim says as much. Porsché just cracks a smile.

“Thank you. I know it does. But the world doesn’t stop spinning just because I am in pain. It’s hard and it’s unfair, and it happened for no good fucking reason, but it’s happening.”

He shuffles closer to Kim’s face and says very seriously: “It’s my own body and I know it the best. I know how much I can take. I don’t need you deciding what’s going on for me.”

They stay like that, looking into each other for a long while. They breathe the same air. Then, slowly, Kim nods.

As a reward, his angel’s face is brightened up by a big smile. He leans closer to kiss Kim but he only pecks him before moving away. Porsché makes a confused sound.

“But when you need it, ask me for help, angel. I want to help. Please don’t hide it from me,” he tries so hard to pour all of his emotions into his words, making Porsché understand.

His boyfriend just looks away. Kim pecks his lips, his cheek, his chin, anywhere he can reach as he waits.

Porsché tightens his grip around Kim’s face before releasing him with a sigh. “You say that now, but after it happens again and again and again, you’ll get sick of it. Of me whining, of not getting better, of needing help and restricting you. P’Kim, I really don’t want you to feel like you’re trapped in a relationship where you constantly have to watch for the other person. I don’t want to restrict you.”

Stupid, foolish boy. Like Kim wouldn’t want to be tied to his angel forever, like he doesn’t have the lyrics of the very first song Porsché has written him tattooed. Like he’s not hiding his mother’s family ring in his drawer, waiting for the right time.

Kim’s entire lifeline is intertwined with Porsché now. He almost says it again but takes a deep breath instead.

Taking turns, he now reaches out to put his hand on Porsché’s cheek. His face feels cold compared to how red it still is. He doesn’t want to bettitle and dismiss Porsché’s worries.

“Angel, I promise this won’t happen. I love you and you’re my partner. Your problems are my problems. If you’re holding onto any burdens, I want to help you carry them. Besides,” he smirks, “since when do I do anything I don’t want to do? If I felt like you’re just one of the pretty boys I want for the convenience of it, I wouldn’t have any problem kicking you into curbs.”

He moves up on the bed and slowly shifts them. He’s now hovering over Porsché. “But you’re not. You’re mine and I’m not letting you go that easily. You’re stuck with me for life.”

Porsché rolls his eyes at that but Kim sees the way the corner of his lips twitches with a smile. His angel really likes being told he’s his. He shakes his head at Kim’s laugh but lets him kiss him anyway.

When they’re both barely able to breathe and Kim is lying hungry kisses down Porsché’s throat, Porsché finally admits defeat. “Okay, P’Kim. I’ll do better at asking for help. I’ll try as well.”

As a response, Kim nips at his Adam's apple and enjoys the moan it punches out of Porsché.

For a long while, things are back to normal. It still sticks in the back of Kim’s mind, of course. He watches Porsché’s movement and notices how he moves, when his usual bouncing steps look misaligned and off. But he doesn’t say anything.

He sees Porsché waiting for him to say something, almost like he’s testing Kim. He doesn’t hide it anymore, several times now Porsché has openly left painkillers on his bedside table before going to sleep or has laid down with a heat pack after coming home from school, but he has yet to ask Kim for help.

So Kim tries his fucking hardest to stay silent. This time though, not out of thinking he can anticipate his needs and do what he thinks is the best for Porsché, but because he trusts him.

Because his angel has asked him for this and Kim is a very very weak man who can not refuse him anything.

He also notices Porsché’s pleased looks that he sends his way when Kim doesn’t comment on Porsché’s sometimes obvious discomfort, just shifts where they’re cuddling so his boyfriend can make himself more comfortable and let him relax into each other’s bodies. Like he passed Porsché’s little tests.

When Porsché finally asks for help, they’re outside on a date.

They decided to go cafe-hopping in a new city. There are bodyguards trailing them at a safe distance, of course, but both of them like to pretend that it’s just the two of them exploring.

Porsché looks up anything that looks interesting on his phone and Kim handles the navigation to the walk there. Porsché is adorably insistent that no, P’Kim, he is not bad at reading maps and navigating, he just doesn’t want to be bothered with it. Kim doesn’t say anything and dutifully leads them around, hiding his giggles into his face mask.

There’s a cat cafe that Porsché found on Instagram. All of the kittens avoid Kim like he has the plague, which Kim finds a little offending but Porsché finds it hilarious. He makes Kim take a million pics of him with the cats piled in his lap as he sips his lemonade and Kim gratefully does it, refusing to delete even a single picture, no matter how much Porsché insists on it.

Kim finds an upscale cafe that Porsché described as a bougie, just because it has a chandelier. Kim doesn’t really understand, the menu still has prices on it, but whatever his angel insists on, he’s quick to agree. They get hot chocolate despite the unrelenting heat outside and split three different desserts they wanted to try.

It’s a test of Kim’s patience to watch Porsché lick chocolate off his lips and happily moan as he licks the small fork. Thankfully there is no one around and he can drag him into the bathroom for a kiss. Or two. Or three.

Porsché stops them before Kim manages to stick his hand down his jeans, though.

They keep walking together through the historical part of the town when suddenly Porsché next to him slows down.

“P’Kim?” He sounds insecure.

Kim is quick to turn around to face his boyfriend. “Angel?”

“Can you….ugh, do you mind if we go sit down for a bit? I’m really… uncomfortable right now. It’s getting hard to keep walking.” He’s hunching his shoulders over a bit and breathing hard.

Kim gets hit with a wave of displeasure at the sight and the implications. How could he not notice? But he puts himself back together immediately, so he can focus on his boyfriend instead.

“Of course. There’s a park right ahead of us. Can you walk? Do you want me to carry you?” He can do it. Porsché often marvels at the ease Kim can manhandle him, even though Porsché himself isn’t a lanky boy anymore. It wouldn’t take any effort to pick Porsché into his arms and run to the park to find a bench.

Porsché shakes his head though. “It’s fine. But can you uh,” he trails off. Stays silent for a bit. Then reaches out his hand.

Neither of them is big on PDA. Their relationship is only theirs and with Kim’s careers - the legal and less legal one, it’s better not to show off anyway.

But if Porsché wants to hold his hand…. Kim offers his palm without even thinking about it and slottes their fingers together. Both of their palms and fingers are calloused, not a smooth fit but perfect for them.

Together, they keep walking. At every step, Porsché squeezes his hand and then releases. Kim just keeps on holding him, walking along next to him.

BONUS:

“Just do it!”

“I can’t!”

“Please, P’Kim,” Porsché sounds close to tears, “I need you to do it. I wouldn’t ask if I could handle this myself.”

“Angel, you know I’d do anything for you but this is too much.” Kim’s hands are shaking.

Porsché scoffs. “Fucking great. What the fuck is having a mafia boyfriend good for if you end up having to do all the hard shit by yourself.” Great, now Porsché is pissed off.

Kim takes a deep breath and looks down at the offending piece of hot pink tape stuck to Porsché’s leg. “You got into this yourself.”

“Oh so now it’s my own fault for being sick?”

“It’s your own fault for not shaving before sticking that on.”

“Shit sorry, next time I’m in a crazy amount of pain I’ll make sure to book a wax session.” Porsché shakes his hand. “Useless.”

He grabs Kim’s hand and bites down on his hoodie. Kim can only watch in horror as Porsché grabs one end of the tape and yanks it up. A small scream fights out of his throat. He’s gripping his hand so hard Kim is worried he’s gonna break his fingers.

Afterwards, a heavy silence follows. On Porsché’s leg, there is a clear stripe of just freshly smooth red skin and residue glue.

Porsché spits out his hoodie and laughs. “There we go.”

Kim squeezes his hand. “Only another six to go.”

“Fuck.”