Archive of Our Own ^beta

I. Arm

Arm and Pete started to work for the Theerapanyakuls at the same time. Back then, they were the scrawniest of the batch of new bodyguards. Pete, who Chan had personally brought home, was a wispy lanky teen, so much so that even Khun Korn raised an eyebrow. That was, well, before Pete cleaned the floor of three bodyguards at once. It was not pretty, Arm can still see the bloodstains on the ceiling today if he squints. Feral mutt, that was Arm's first impression of Pete. 

Over the years, Pete has learned to be more "refined", throwing a punch first and rarely biting people's flesh off. He'll still does it but with training and guns, he has shaped up to be an elegant protector. 

The night after Pete's resignation, the household is brought into chaos by Khun Nu. 

All of Arm's focus is on containing the tornado that is his charge. It’s only the next morning that he has time to think about Pete. 

Or that's what he would have liked to do if not for Pol contacting him first thing in the morning about Khun Nu trying to barge into Khun Korn's study to convince his father to get Pete back. 

Arm sighs and gets back to work and when finally, finally Khun Nu exhausts himself he allows a deep exhale to escape him. He goes to the cafeteria because he fucking needs his coffee. 

"—Pete." He stops and takes steps backwards to let the corridor walls hide him. 

“Fucking traitor.” Arm recognizes the voice of Sea, one of the older bodyguards.

“Him and Ken both,” a bitter voice spits, Ace, from the same generation as Sea. “You know, I always thought he was too pretty to be the head bodyguard. Of course, it makes sense that he fucked his way to being a mafia head the same way he fucked his way into being Tankhun’s head bodyguard.”

Arm, always being one of the cooler heads in the household, just walks away.

He has been actively trying to not think about that. He’ll take care of making sure Pete has a safety net after his charge’s tantrum settles down.

II. Tankhun 

Most Theerapanyakul men have body counts in at least almost a hundred by the time they reach their thirties. No doubt even that brat Macau has at least three. 

Tankhun only has one. 

He thinks about Vegas. It's about to be two. 

He knows a thing or two about being kept in captivity while the people that are supposed to look for you did fuck all. He has not talked to Kinn AND Porsche and would not do it for the foreseeable future. 

His poor Pete, he starts tearing up thinking about Pete still at the hands of that monster. 

And so he throws a tantrum, getting everybody exhausted. 

He screams at Pol to get him food at the cafeteria. And for the first time in forever, he sneaks out alone in the mansion. There are ways unknown to everyone but him out of the compound. 

He swallows down the hives threatening to break out all over his skin at the first sight of the . . . public. His stomach turns at the sweaty taxi seat he sat on. He pays 3000 Baht which is more than it probably costs judging by the wide- eyed slack-jawed look the driver gives him. 

The receptionist bows at him, and Tankhun ignores her. He knocks loudly on the hospital door, there is silence. 

He isn't surprised to have the door swing open and be greeted by the barrel of a gun. He finds it hard to breathe for entirely different reasons. Pete's face is tired, there are the beginning of dark bags under his eye, his glare melts away and he immediately takes his gun away from his place. 

"Khun Nu." he says, clipped. 

His poor Pete, Tankun's heart lurches. 

"I'm here to help you escape." 

"I'm not held captive. Go home, Khun Nu. I'll call Arm." 

"Are you not?" 

"Not this time." 

"I'm sorry I wasn't there." 

"Okay." 

Tankhun waits at the waiting room, Pete doesn’t come out to see him again. Arm and Pol come less than fifteen minutes later, haggard, hair all over the place and sweating.

He keeps waiting for Pete to come out of the door, with his indulgent smile and yet he never does. As he is ushered out of the hospital, he can’t help but wonder how he lost Pete. He took him for granted and when an opening made itself known, a monster snapped him up.

III. Gear

The mansion of the minor family belongs to the Theerapanyakuls, but the garden belongs to Gear. 

Since he was a young man, he had taken care of the soil here. He made sure that the flowers got enough sunlight. He made sure the leaves stayed green and healthy as long as possible.  Every living thing here in the garden knows his touch. The mansion may change its masters but the soil recognizes Gear as its own.

Part of his job is to be part of the background. In a family headed by Korn, standing out only means bad things to come in the future. Gear serves the garden faithfully, pretending to be deaf and blind to the living humans in this mansion and their sins.

Gun's children used to spend a lot of time here in the garden, back when their mother was still alive. They never did anymore after she died. Even now, the space where the late Minor Family Matriarch used to plant her tulips remains empty. When the matriarch and the tulips both died, Gear kept the space empty and placed decorative stones instead. A subtle memorial for Gear’s former employer.

He is crouched along the side of the path, tending to the wilting potted ferns when he hears footsteps from behind.

Gear continues to work for a moment, sure that the person would leave soon. When he was new here, he used to tense up every so often, scared out of his wits at the very real possibility of being a target of a Theerapanyakul’s temper and being showered with bullets without warning. But, well, he got used to it and eventually just accepted the fact that if they willed it, then that would be how he’ll go.  

“Uncle,” a man, heavily bandaged around the torso, says.

Gear’s pulse stops. Not just any injured man recovering from the attempted coup-de-tat – the disposed heir apparent himself – Vegas Theeranpanyakul. He hasn’t been this close alone with him, since the mafia heir was a boy plucking his flowers with glee while his mother’s disapproving lecture went ignored. 

Gathering his wits, Gear bows. “Khun Vegas, is there anything I can help you with?”

To be honest, Gear never thought he’d see him again. He thought him truly gone and exiled with the new leader – Porsche, they said his name is, moving in the mansion.

“Can you plant sunflowers here?” Vegas says. There’s a twitch in his eyes – a brief expression of pain before it settles back down into a calculated level of approachability. 

“Of course, Khun Vegas.” Gear bows again.

“When will they bloom?” Vegas asks.

“In two to four months, Khun Vegas.” Vegas’s lips press into a thin displeased line, annoyance apparent at the pinch of his eyebrows. 

Gear is suddenly painfully aware that this is the first time Vegas has initiated a conversation about gardening with him, even from when he was a boy. He does not know if his answer could end up with him sleeping with the kois at the main family mansion.

“ . . . But we could order sunflowers and have them replanted here . . . “ Gear says, scrambling inside his head to say something appeasing.

Vegas turns his gaze away from him, and surveys the garden as if he was trying to picture a garden filled with sunflowers. Slowly, his gaze softens. 

Vegas has never ever made that soft longing expression and Gear isn’t sure if he’s successful at trying to suppress the stupefied expression on his face. 

But Gear, impossibly, recognizes it.

Not from Vegas’s face but from his mother’s. It was the face the late matriarch of the household would make when she admitted to Gear himself that she was dreaming of a better fantastical future. 

“Do that.” Vegas finally nods. “Pete better like it or I’ll kill you.” 

With that final threat, Vegas finally leaves. Gear is left thinking:

Who the fuck is Pete?!

A. The answer

Pete is light.

For the first time in a long while, Vegas thinks of a future decades from now bursting with sunflowers in all four corners of the earth. He thinks, as long as Pete stays with him then he’ll do his best to make sure there are warm meals on the table every single day and a smile on his face.

After Vegas asks him if he liked the earrings he picked out, the giddy smile that Pete makes on his first birthday with him and Macau makes Vegas feel lightheaded. “I like it,” His eyes look golden in the sunlight. “A lot.”