Chapter Text
In about half an hour, Hum Bar was crawling with Main Family men while confused patrons and staff were barred from leaving the premises. The official story was that just outside the bar, somebody got stabbed. A robbery gone wrong, most probably, really nasty business. The attacker had been apprehended, but the police wanted to interview potential witnesses.
Most people were too shaken to ask the obvious questions. Like, why weren’t the police officers wearing their uniforms, or even better, why were they asking if anybody had heard a gunshot, if the victim was supposedly attacked with a knife?
And if somebody did notice how unorthodox this whole situation was, well. Those people knew better than to say anything.
Yok, on the other hand, whose initial reaction to hearing that Porsche and Kim’s charming brother could be in danger had been utter horror, was quickly losing any goodwill she’d initially felt for Chan and his people.
“We’ve nothing to do with it!” She kept nervously pacing the narrow room that served as her office, seemingly hurt that nobody would take her word for it. “We didn’t even know Wik’s brother would be here today! How could we have arranged his kidnapping?”
“There are many ways,” Chan answered, his face impassive. “The most obvious would be to tip someone off that he came to your bar.”
Exasperated, Yok threw her hands in the air. “Who would I tip off?! His business rivals?! I don’t even know what he does!”
Chan looked at her calmly, holding her eyes as he said, “I think you do.”
Kim felt blood rush to his head. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. This wasn’t how he wanted it to go. But he couldn’t just make Chan shut up and go a different route.
Too late for that, when Yok’s eyes were already widening in sudden realization as she took in the men gathered in her office. “Hum Bar’s no man’s land,” she whispered, her voice trembling only a little. “I’ve made a deal with the Minor Family. We don’t take sides in the turf wars. I just pay my dues. I — I don’t…”
“I will confirm with Khun Vegas the nature of your arrangement as soon as I’m able to,” Chan interrupted her. “But make no mistake. I don’t believe for one second that just because this place has been declared neutral by the Minor Family, you wouldn’t take the chance to set Khun Kinn up.”
Yok was now visibly shaking, glancing furtively between Chan and Kim. Big and Ken stood by the door, the latter swaying lightly on his feet, possibly fighting off the effects of a concussion.
“I would never do something like that,” she whispered, looking lost. “No matter who it was… I wouldn’t hurt them. I just wouldn’t.”
Kim desperately wanted to believe her. She sounded sincere; it was clear that at least she believed what she was saying. But people were rarely as uncomplicated as they wanted to seem, and even though he knew that Yok wasn’t a bad person, he couldn’t disregard the possibility that she had played him.
Not when Kinn’s life was on the line.
“Did Arm manage to get something useful from the CCTV?” Kim spoke up, breaking whatever weird stand-off Yok and Chan seemed to be locked in.
“He’s just finishing up with the recordings, khun,” Big answered.
They didn’t have to wait for long. After a few minutes of awkward silence, there was a knock on the door, and Arm stepped into Yok’s office.
From how apologetic the man looked, Kim could already deduce that he hadn’t found anything even remotely helpful. He was right; all Arm showed them was a grainy video of Kinn getting up from the bar and heading to the back door. The recording then cut to another shot of him passing through the alley to the docks. That was it. The CCTV, including the additional cameras Porsche had installed before bringing Kim here, didn’t reach any further.
Arm clicked away to another file, this one containing a very similar recording of Porsche, who, after sneaking away from the bar, waved at Jom, probably to lie to him about taking a break to smoke, went through the back door, and finally passed through the same alley as Kinn.
Chan sighed. “That’s it?”
“Yes, sir.” Arm nodded. “The bar’s security system stores camera images for a month. I took the liberty of copying everything available to my hard drive. When we’re back at the compound, I’ll do an algorithm search, see if it spots something that could help us find Khun Kinn and…?”
“Porsche,” Kim supplied flatly. He was pretty sure that Arm, just like the rest of the bodyguards, knew exactly what Porsche’s name was. But Arm was smart; he also knew it was better to pretend Porsche wasn’t even a blip on his radar.
“Right, Porsche. Anyway, the others are collecting statements and ID-ing the guests. They should be done in two or three hours —”
“Three hours?!” Yok gasped. “My clients won’t be able to go home for three hours?”
Arm blinked at her, confused. “Maybe two, but yes. These things take time.”
“I could lose my business over this!” Yok wailed.
“You could lose even more if you don’t cooperate,” Chan snapped, which shut Yok up immediately. “Go to your guests, see how they are. I expect you to answer when we call.”
Yok’s eyes flitted nervously between Kim and Big, the only people she knew, but in the end, she hung her head and slipped out of the room, too afraid to question Chan again.
When the door clicked shut behind her, Arm fixed the way his glasses slid off his nose, and said, “Of course, our best chance is still using Khun Kinn’s tracker.”
“Of course,” Kim snorted while the feeling of intense relief washed over him. Of course Kinn had a tracker. They all did, even him. The footage from the security cameras would be useful to working out who took Kinn and Porsche. But the tracker would allow them to see where they’d been taken.
Chan hummed before asking, “Any luck retrieving the signal?”
Arm put his laptop on Yok’s desk to better show them what he was working on. Kim was no expert on technology, but he recognized some specialized GPS software that was currently transferring what looked like a large amount of data.
“Shouldn’t take long, sir.” Arm clicked the main window away and pulled up another programme. “There!”
They all hunched over the computer. There it was, the red dot that indicated Kinn’s location. It was moving smoothly over Bangkok’s roughly sketched streets.
“They’re still within the city limits!” Big exclaimed.
“But not for long,” said Chan. “We’ll move out immediately. Two cars, the rest of you will take the bikes. Ken, I expect you’re well enough to lead your team.”
It was a statement, not a question. Ken simply nodded.
“Good. Take one of the cars, I’ll drive the other. I want Khun Kinn home by tomorrow morning. There’s no room for error, here.”
“Yes, sir!”
“Big, you’re still on Khun Kim’s detail. Get him back to the apartment safely, and keep your comms open.”
Big froze, stunned into silence. He looked like the rug had been pulled from under his feet.
And then it dawned on Kim — Big didn’t think he’d be left behind. In Big’s mind, small and Kinn-centered as it was, there was no universe in which he didn’t go after the man he dedicated his whole existence to. To Big, not being part of the rescue team was preposterous.
But orders were orders, and yes, Big was still on Kim’s detail. He wasn’t in charge of Kinn’s current team. That responsibility fell to Ken, and the reality of this fact was slowly dawning on Big. Lost, trying and failing to hide his growing despair, Big turned to Kim. And while usually Kim would take great pleasure in showing Big his place, proving to that lump of a man that Kinn certainly didn’t need him as much as Big imagined he did, now, another thought rattled around his skull.
They had a mole. Kinn was in danger. Nobody could be trusted.
Nobody but Big.
Because Big was in fucking love with Kinn, and would sooner bite off his tongue than betray Kim’s idiot of a brother.
“That’s all right, Big will go with Ken,” Kim stated, his tone not brokering any argument. Chan frowned at him, his displeasure at the change of plans obvious, but Kim didn’t care.
All that mattered was bringing his brother and Porsche home.
“What are you all standing around for?” Chan barked when nobody moved. “You have your orders, go!”
The men scrambled to obey. Big was already at the door when he suddenly stopped and turned around, reaching Kim again in a few long-legged steps.
“Changed your mind?” Kim doubted that was the reason for Big’s sudden hesitation to leave, but couldn’t help the taunt.
Predictably, Big shook his head. He looked askance at Chan, making sure the man wasn’t close enough to hear him, before leaning in, his breath hot on Kim’s cheek.
“Khun, what about N’Porchay?”
Fuck.
What about Chay?
It wasn’t that Kim forgot about Chay. It was just that with Kinn’s safety at the forefront of his mind, everything else — everybody else — faded into the background. Fuck, Porsche had been taken with Kinn, and yet Kim couldn’t muster the same amount of worry for his bodyguard as he did for his brother. Somehow, he felt that Porsche (scrappy, street smart, recently mafia-trained Porsche) would be fine.
Kinn, though. Kinn was just too… Kinn. Kim seriously doubted his brother’s ability to get out of trouble without the Main Family’s men dragging him out of it. The thing about Kinn, the one part that Korn was desperate to squash, was that, deep down, he was soft. The softest out of the Theerapanyakul heirs, and yes, Kim was including Macau, here. Macau might have been just a kid, but he had the Theerapanyakul ruthlessness etched into him from the moment he opened his eyes. Kim knew it was somewhat ridiculous of him, but when it came to his family, he strongly believed that nature trumped nurture any day, every day.
Except for Kinn. Kinn, who wanted to be a musician long before Kim even picked up an instrument; who took over from Tankhun when his older brother couldn’t continue as the Main Family’s heir apparent; who didn’t utter a word of complaint while his heart quietly broke at having to assume that kind of responsibility; who cared for his sick brother, his ailing father, all their employees; who fell for a rat like Tawan, wanted to fucking marry him, and to the very last moment didn’t want to believe in his treachery.
Kim didn’t know which he hated more. Kinn’s softness, or that he’d be stripped of it soon by the harsh reality of his position. Their father certainly hoped for the latter, and whatever Khun Korn wanted, Khun Korn got, so in Kim’s mind, there was no doubt that in a few years, there wouldn’t be anything left of the silly, day-dreaming romantic his brother had once been. That man would be replaced by Korn’s carbon copy, cold and calculating, treating his family as a means to an end instead of an end in itself.
(And maybe this new Kinn would remember what his younger brother’s role in the family was supposed to be; the plans that Pa had made for him, and the very specific skill set he’d equipped Kim with. Maybe this Kinn wouldn’t be so lenient about the things that Kim chose to do with his time, the sudden attention both a blessing and a curse at the same fucking time.)
Fucking Kinn. He always had this effect on Kim, made him lose all common sense, and just go crazy with a sense of deep-rooted worry. It’s like Kinn couldn’t leave Kim alone and, for once, let him breathe. No, he just had to get in trouble all the fucking time. They weren’t even on speaking terms; it was like Kinn was doing it all on purpose, just to spite him.
So it shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone that while Kim was getting all twisted about his bastard of an older brother, he had no mental capacity to think of much else. Including how Porsche’s disappearance put in jeopardy the carefully woven web of omissions and half-truths on which Kim built his relationship with Chay.
He could try pretending he didn’t notice Porsche was gone. He could just wait for Chay’s call. The boy’s voice wouldn’t be frantic (not yet), but already worried. Have you seen hia? Chay would ask. He told me he’d be getting off work early this evening. And Kim would feign complete ignorance, say, I let him off on time. Are you sure he’s not out partying or spending the night with some girl?
But no, Kim knew that wouldn’t be convincing enough. As much as Porsche did love to party and sleep around, he always tried to let Chay know where he was. Porsche would definitely dance and drink some nights away, but he’d still manage to text Chay when he thought he’d be home.
We’re all we have, Porsche had explained once. Kim had been giving him not-so-subtle eyeroll for his status updates, as Kim came to call Porsche and Chay’s messages to each other.
The very thought of updating his own brothers about his whereabouts made Kim break out in hives.
But Porsche wasn’t like him. Porsche was a good brother. He’d never disappear for a few days, without sparing his family a word of explanation, just because he felt like it. Pretending Porsche had gone home after his shift, and simply didn’t make it home, would only alarm Chay, who’d start calling Porsche’s friends first, then all the nearby hospitals, and in the end, the police. And the police getting involved was out of the question. Bangkok’s finest would undoubtedly hinder the Main Family’s attempts to bring Kinn and Porsche home, especially once they connected Chay and Kim’s brothers.
So it was settled. The Kittisawats were Kim’s responsibility alone. He was the one who’d brought them into the Main Family’s orbit, and he’d be the one to deal with the fallout.
On his way to Porsche’s house, Kim picked up some take-out (Chinese, since Chay was ridiculously fond of dumplings), all the while thinking about how to best spin his story. He was so focused on setting the stage and making his lie believable that it wasn’t until he reached Porsche and Chay’s place that he felt something like guilt crawling up his spine.
It wouldn’t be the first time he betrayed Porsche’s trust. After all, what Porsche had asked from him was to not get involved with Chay at all. Before, though, it’d been just some guitar lessons; tutoring Chay had been hardly a life-and-death scenario. It was easy to rationalize sidestepping Porsche when it came to tutoring his brother. You could argue that Porsche was being too dramatic, too protective for Chay’s own good.
This, though, was different. Covering for Porsche’s absence meant actually covering for himself and for his family’s dealings. There was no going back from this. For whatever reason, Kim felt cheated, even if he’d be the one to do all the lying in a few minutes.
“P’Kim?”
Chay’s tinny voice came through the intercom, interrupting his thoughts. It sounded scratchy like the boy had just woken up, but maybe it was just the faulty speaker distorting the sound.
“Can I come in?” Kim asked lightly. “I have food.”
“Oh, in that case, come on in.” Chay laughed before buzzing him in. “I’d never let you in otherwise.”
Kim entered.
It was his first time on Porsche’s property, and even if he’d done extensive research on the man and his situation, he was still a little surprised. Both the house and the adjoining garden were big; massive, even, when you thought that the only people living there would be a twenty-three-year-old and his teenage brother. Before they died, the Kittisawats were decidedly upper-middle-class. The house itself had a modern cube-like design with big windows and probably a lot of open space. It looked like it belonged in one of those pretentious architecture magazines that Tankhun liked to stack on his coffee table to seem more cultured.
But the signs of slight neglect were also clear. It wasn’t that the property fell into disrepair; nothing that dramatic. And anyway, Porsche loved this house. He’d never let it get that far. In fact, as far as Kim knew, the man was constantly fixing one thing or another, fiddling with the cables, or the pipes, or whatever. He watched YouTube tutorials on how to unclog the toilets and clean the air conditioning, and though Kim couldn’t care less about the menial labour his bodyguard did in his spare time, Porsche usually shared his thoughts on the planned repairs with anyone who’d listen. Still, to maintain anything in good shape, money was needed. Porsche’s recent change in fortune couldn’t reverse many years of scraping by with duct tape and optimism as your only resources.
As soon as Kim stepped on the porch (the board in the second step needed to be replaced; it seemed the wood was already rotting), the door swung open so hard that it nearly fell out of the hinges, and Kim was greeted by Chay’s smiling face.
“Hi, phi!” Chay breathed as if he had run a marathon. “What are you doing here? I didn’t expect you! I’d clean the house if I did!”
“Hi, nong.” Kim mocked the other boy good-naturedly. Chay was too polite for his own good. “Hungry?” He raised his hands to show off the take-out bags.
Chay snorted. “When am I not?” He eyed Kim’s offerings with open interest. “But that doesn’t answer my question. We didn’t have plans for today, did we? I don’t think I’d forget, but I have so much going on at school that maybe I —”
“No, no plans have been forgotten.” Kim shook his head, lips quirking. “Let me put the food down, and I’ll explain everything.”
Chay stepped away from the entrance to let Kim in, and asked him to follow. Bathed in the afternoon light, even if slightly messy, the living and dining space looked quite nice. Just like Kim suspected, it was well-lit, tastefully decorated, and cozy at the same time. Kim knew neither of the brothers had any hand in it. Whoever designed it had much better taste than both of them combined.
Still, you could clearly see the traces of the place getting ransacked, probably more than once. Some things looked like they had to be put back together, and whoever did, had no idea how to do it. The books and trinkets that were displayed on the shelves lay in piles instead of being neatly ordered. Most of the furniture was battered and scratched, and the pillows on the couch were mismatched with the rest of the upholstery, as if the original ones had to be thrown out and whoever bought the replacements couldn’t care less about the aesthetics, just if they fit.
Chay seemed conscious of the less-than-perfect state of his and Porsche’s living quarters; on their way to the kitchen, he tried to toe away some clothing that had been haphazardly thrown on the floor.
The shirt looked like it belonged to Porsche. Kim’s heart clenched.
Once they entered the kitchen, Chay rushed to help Kim unpack and plate the food. He took out the containers one by one, curiously lifting their lids and letting out noises of various levels of approval.
“Chive dumplings? Alright!”
The breathy laugh that forced its way out of Kim’s throat was anything but fake. He shook his head fondly at Chay’s antics. “I take it you approve?”
“Eh.” Chay shrugged, turning around to the kitchen cabinets. He grabbed a few plates and bowls. “You could have brought me a portion of plain rice, and I’d still be happy.” He grinned at Kim over his shoulder. “It probably wouldn’t even have to be cooked.”
They bickered like that for a few more minutes before finally sitting down to eat. Chay’s butt barely touched the chair when he started digging into his portion like a man starved. Kim let him have his fill before he spoke up.
“So, actually, this is an apology,” he said sheepishly.
The other boy looked up from the soup who was devouring, his eyes so big and round, it made him look like a cartoon character.
“An apology?” he asked, bewildered. “What for? You haven’t done anything wrong, P’Kim!”
The absolute conviction in Chay’s voice hurt more than a stab wound. The words cut into Kim’s chest, only to twist and pull at his insides.
He swallowed, but kept the smile firmly plastered on his face. “I did many things wrong,” he admitted, pretending to be a little shy. “But there’s one in particular I have to apologize to you for.”
Chay looked at him for a moment, mulling over Kim’s confession, and then his whole face fell. “Oh,” he sighed. “I see. You’re not going to tutor me anymore, are you?”
Not for the first time, it hit Kim how different the lives he and Chay led were. He had to worry that one of his brothers might hurt himself in a fit of PTSD-related panic, while the other could not live to see the next day. Chay’s biggest fear, on the other hand, was whether he’d be able to continue guitar lessons with his favorite musician —
No, that wasn’t fair of him. Kim thought about the mismatched pillows on the sofa and tried to understand how. How, even after he’d had his home regularly ransacked by loan sharks while his brother got beaten up for money in back alleys, even after he’d known the helplessness and fear that came with waiting for the not-so-gentle knock on the door, how had Chay managed to stay so good? So positive. So full of promise and dreams for the future, clinging to the kind of naivete that Kim should have hated, but instead was envious of.
Because Kim didn’t have to ask himself if he’d ever been this innocent; he already knew the answer to that question. As soon as he had become aware of the world he’d been born into (as soon as his mother’s lifeless body hit the ground), he knew that people could be divided into those who would be exploited and those who would exploit.
Didn’t Chay know this? He had to. He’d experienced it firsthand. Maybe it was willful ignorance. Maybe Chay just pretended that the world wasn’t shit to get through the next day, week, month, year. Maybe it wasn’t obliviousness. Maybe it was a choice.
But when everything around you was falling apart, what kind of a crazy person would choose to fixate on guitar lessons as your biggest problem?
For such a simple person, Chay could be very confusing.
“No, no, it’s not that.” Kim shook his head, pretending to be sheepish. He let out a small laugh, avoiding Chay’s eyes. “But still. It’s something you’re definitely not gonna be happy with me for.”
Chay’s eyes shone. “That’s not possible!” he exclaimed as if hurt on Kim’s behalf. “I can’t imagine that you’ve done anything wrong, phi!”
Oh, apart from, you know, dragging (that was the word Porsche had used, right?) your brother into my family’s bullshit and as a result, getting said brother kidnapped alongside Kim’s own brother?
Yeah, sure. Nothing at all.
“Okay, fine, don’t look at me like that,” the boy said between one bite and the other. “I get it, you’ve done something awful. So? What am I supposed to be angry at you for?”
“Well, it’s about Porsche.”
Upon hearing his brother’s name, Chay snorted. “What did he do now?”
“Nothing,” Kim responded quickly and ironically, it was the truth. “Or rather, he didn’t do anything that I haven’t asked him to do.”
Chay’s demeanor suddenly changed, his face closing off, the corners of his mouth turning down ever so slightly. “If it’s sex-related, I don’t want to hear it,” he grumbled, looking away.
Kim sputtered, “What? No! What?” He could feel his ears heating up like two small furnaces. “I’ve told you I’m not dating Porsche! Why are you so stuck on this?” he pleaded, confused.
Now it was Chay’s turn to become embarrassed. His cheeks and forehead took on a pinkish hue while the boy fumbled for words. “I just thought, you know, even if you two weren’t dating when we met, you might have started to? You just spend so much time together! And he talks about you, like, all the time,” Chay explained, looking anywhere but at Kim.
“Why does everybody think Porsche and I are together?” Kim complained, knowing his voice was close to whining, but for fuck’s sake. “I’m not attracted to Porsche. I’ll never be attracted to Porsche. Do we even know where he’s been? I mean, ew.”
That made Chay snort before he schooled his features into mock-disapproval. “Hey! That’s my brother you’re talking about!”
“Well, your brother gets around.” Kim rolled his eyes. “He says so himself.”
“Okay, you have a point,” Chay conceded. The tension had already left his body, and he was back to his usual playful self. The change was confusing, to say the least. Kim was getting a whiplash from this conversation, and he hadn’t even started explaining Porsche’s absence, the very reason he was even here. Not that he particularly wanted to talk about it, bile rising in his throat the moment he thought about all the ways the rescue mission could go wrong —
Maybe letting Chay distract him for a few minutes wouldn’t be such a bad thing?
“Would you, though,” Chay suddenly raised intent eyes to Kim, “want to be with someone who hasn’t, um. Gotten around?”
Or it might turn out to be just the worst. Kim had to carry around some truly awful karma.
“Uh, honestly, I’ve never thought about it,” he answered too sincerely for his own comfort, but the question had taken him by surprise so much that he couldn’t even think of a good enough lie. “I think I wouldn’t care about it either way. Not if I really liked this person, I mean.”
Eyes still boring into Kim as if he tried to see right to his very core, Chay only hummed in response. He took another bite of the food, and Kim decided there was no better time to get this strange conversation back on track. “What I was trying to say, earlier, was that I asked Porsche for a favor. A pretty big one, at that. My brother — my middle brother — had to go away for a business conference. Very high profile, very elite. But I just can’t bring myself to trust anyone on his security team. And the location is this… remote island in the North, and they don’t let you call anyone while you’re there, so I asked Porsche to go with him. To keep an eye on everything. That’s why he’s not back yet.”
Chay stopped chewing, the surprise clear on his face. “Oh. Sure, I get it. But why hasn’t he called me to say he’s going away for a few days?”
Kim shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. “His phone died. Again. You know Porsche, he never remembers to charge that thing, and the battery is shit. I’ve told him to buy a new one, but he never listens.”
“Right,” Chay said, still looking like he was trying to make sense of things. “But shouldn’t he stop by the house to pack a bag? He doesn’t even have a change of clothes with him.”
Kim snorted. “My brother’s loaded. He’ll pick up some new clothes for Porsche on their way to the conference. That’s the least he can do.”
“And Porsche will call once he’s there?” Chay worried at his lower lip. For some reason, the gesture irked Kim; he couldn’t stop staring at it.
“They’ll confiscate his phone.” It sounded a lot like an apology. Good. It was more convincing that way. “Like I said, the whole thing is super low-profile, so they don’t want people contacting anybody while they’re there. It’s for many different reasons, but mainly security.”
Chay frowned. “But you’ve just said you don’t trust the security there. That’s why you asked hia to go, didn’t you?”
“Just because a place has a lot of security doesn’t mean it’s good enough for my brother.” The words rolled easily off Kim’s tongue because, for once, it was the truth.
He readied himself for more questions. Chay did that a lot, this gentle prodding as if he wanted to see things from every possible angle. Kim didn’t think it was because the other boy was suspicious by nature; he mostly sounded curious, and like he wanted to be thorough.
But now, instead of trying to get more out of Kim, instead of poking holes into his not-that-convincing story, Chay nodded absentmindedly, suddenly looking smaller, more frail. Lost and hurt at the same time.
“I’m sorry for asking him to do this,” Kim blurted out, wholly aware of how ridiculous he was being. It wasn’t his fault that Porsche had been kidnapped (wasn’t it?), and even if it was, Porsche was still Kim’s employee. A bodyguard. There was nothing strange in lending your man to a family member who might need it.
There was nothing to be sorry for. (Wasn’t there?)
“I’m not mad, P’Kim.” Chay explained. “I just wish Porsche had told me, you know? He never… He never thinks things through.” Chay’s grip on the fork tightened so much that his knuckles went white. “His battery ran out? Well, shit happens. Why didn’t he call me from your phone? They’re gonna take his phone when he lands on that island? That’s fine, that’s not his fault. But maybe he could, oh, I dunno, call me before he has to put his phone in a deposit?” Each word was spoken faster, more forcefully. “Is it really so hard? To just think before you act? To think about —”
Me. Chay wanted to say. Is it really so hard to think about me?
Kim wanted to tell him that he was all Porsche thought about. It was the fact that the two of them were so close that made it all so complicated. Porsche always calls you, was at the tip of Kim’s tongue. He always tries to accommodate you. Sometimes it feels like there’s nothing he wants for himself because all his wants and needs revolve around you. That’s what Kim had always thought.
So why didn’t Chay see it that way?
Before he could react, Chay was already shaking his head, trying to calm himself. Only the unnaturally fast blinking betrayed that he was holding back tears.
How did it always fall on Kim to deal with Chay’s most emotional moments? Why was he the one who had to witness the boy flayed open by yet another of life’s injustices? He didn’t want to see Chay vulnerable and sad, ever. It didn’t make him feel they were closer. It just made him fucking miserable by proxy.
“Thanks for the dinner, P’Kim,” Chay’s soft words broke Kim out of his reverie. Chay looked at him with a smile that held no accusation, no anger, his eyes shining with the tears he didn’t let himself shed. “I know you feel responsible, because you’ve asked Porsche to go, but he should be the one to tell me. It’s not like it’s a big deal. I’m used to staying alone at the house, I’ll be fine for a night.”
“It… It’ll be longer.” Hopefully not forever, he thought a little hysterically. “The conference lasts three days, but my brother may want to stay longer. To talk with potential business partners, you know.”
Chay closed his eyes for a second as if praying for strength.
“Of course,” he then exclaimed, giving Kim the widest, fakest smile he’d ever seen on a person. It was eerie. “That’s no problem at all! I’ve enough money to go grocery shopping, and I’m sure we’re not gonna eat all of the stuff you’ve brought with you today, so there’ll be so much leftovers. I’ll just have to do the laundry tomorrow, ‘cause I’m out of fresh white shirts. Oh, and I’ll check if we’re not due to pay the bills — you do not want to know how fun it is to have hot water and electricity cut off, phi! I just…” Chay stumbled over his next words, looking away from Kim and to the window. It was already dark outside. The Kittisawats didn’t illuminate their garden like many other families did, so the only source of light was the street lamps in the distance. “I just hope these are not the only bills that should be paid.”
Chay didn’t have to explain himself. Kim knew all too well what he meant. The sight of Chay, sitting primly in Kim’s lobby after being basically chased out of his own home, came to him, unbidden.
He hadn’t seen the carnage left by the loan sharks, but he knew the business well enough to be able to imagine it in vivid detail. Chay, alone in the house, relaxed in a pair of comfortable sweatpants, working on his homework, or scrolling through his phone, or strumming the guitar. A knock on the door, one, two, three. Chay, surprised and immediately suspicious because, in his experience, unannounced guests never meant anything good. But it could have just been that useless alcoholic uncle of theirs, banging on the door like a lunatic because he’d forgotten his keys.
And then Chay opened the door. Did he first use the peephole? Or did he open the door slightly, just to take a look at whomever knocked, only to be pushed away while the doors were forced further open?
Did he fall down? Did he hit his head on the wall?
Was he scared when those men came in and started ransacking his home? Kim remembered that, according to Big, Porsche asked Chay to hide in his bedroom, but did Chay listen to him? Or did he face the attackers, brave as he was, and watch his and Porsche’s belongings be ripped apart?
Chay was used to being alone at the house; that was what Porsche had always said. Porsche worked nights long before he became Kim’s bodyguard, so it wasn’t anything unusual for him to leave his little brother alone at the house. According to Porsche, Chay had always been fine with it.
But was he, really? This wasn’t the first time the loan sharks came by. Maybe they had never been as destructive before. Maybe up to this point, they hadn’t given Chay such a fright. But somehow, Kim doubted it. Because no matter how strong he knew Chay was, he was still a defenseless seventeen-year-old high schooler. Anyone in his position would be scared.
And now Kim got his brother kidnapped. He wanted to believe that Kinn and Porsche would be found in a matter of hours, maybe in a few days; that they would be unharmed, and that after they were retrieved, everything would go back to the way it had been. But if Kim were honest with himself, if he stopped lying just for a second, he’d have to admit he had no idea how long it would take to get the two of them. And if the Main Family would be at all successful.
What was Kim thinking? That he’d just come by the house, feed Chay some subpar Chinese, and be on his merry way home? Did he think Chay would be fine with Porsche being gone, content with the flimsy excuse Kim gave, and just absolve Kim of any guilt?
Well, that was exactly what Chay had done.
Not that Kim deserved it.
“It’s getting late,” Chay commented, doing his best impression of a kicked puppy who tried to be brave. It made Kim want to rip his hair out. “I don’t want to take up any more of your time, phi. You’re probably terribly busy tomorrow. I’ll see you at our next tutoring session, right?”
And with that, Chay abruptly stood up and began cleaning up the table — a clear invitation for Kim to get lost. Hard to imagine this was the same kid who, only a few short weeks ago, practically begged Kim to show him how to best grip his guitar. The change was both annoying and endearing.
It wasn’t that Kim would ever tolerate people not showing him the respect he was due. It was just nice to think that somewhere along the way, Chay had kicked him off the pedestal he’d put him on.
Too bad that Kim wasn’t going anywhere.
“Wow, I don’t really feel like driving at this hour.” Kim yawned deliberately. “Would it be okay if I crashed on the couch?”
If Kim stayed, so did the guys on his detail. They wouldn’t step a foot past the gate, not if there wasn’t an emergency, but they were stationed just a few meters further down the road. Kim couldn’t exactly tell Chay that, just like he couldn’t explain that the debt collectors wouldn’t be gracing his and Porsche’s home and time soon, and even if they did, they would never be as threatening as the last time.
What Kim could do, though, was be there for Chay.
Only because Porsche couldn’t, of course.
Chay’s eyes became as wide as saucers, his mouth opening and closing a few times like a fish’s, with no sound coming out of it. An array of emotions flitted across his face, from disbelief to awe, only to finally settle on doubt. You could pinpoint the exact moment when he thought, This is too good to be true.
“P’Kim,” he started, wringing out his hands, “I really appreciate you wanting to take care of me, but you don’t have to. I’m not your responsibility.”
“I know,” Kim lied. I wouldn’t mind it if you were, though, he didn’t add. “But we’re friends, aren’t we? It’s something a friend would do.”
Chay nodded, failing to cover his sniffing. “I’m gonna get you some blankets,” he mumbled, fleeing the kitchen.
Kim watched him go with a small smile, before it dawned on him that he’d just volunteered to stay the night at Porsche’s house, with Porsche’s brother. The same brother whom he wasn’t supposed to keep in touch with.
Well. That escalated quickly.
By morning, Kim was resigned to this whole thing being a mess. In the early hours, he received a quick update from Big. The bodyguards had managed to catch up with the vehicle in which Kinn and Porsche had been taken, but the thing had already crashed on the side of the road. There was no sign of Kinn or Porsche anywhere near the truck, which could mean they’d been taken to another location or gotten away. And since the accident had taken place far away from the city limits, the only place they could run away to was the forest.
That didn’t make Kim feel any better. Kinn didn’t know how to fold his damn socks, not to mention survive in the wilderness.
Predictably, their father wanted Kim to stay at the compound for safety reasons, while Khun had worked himself into a state. Kim talked with him quietly on the phone deep into the night, his brother’s wails getting weaker as exhaustion took him over. Somewhere around midnight, Arm took the phone out of Khun’s hand and informed Kim he’d put him to bed.
Even though he couldn’t care less about his Pa’s wishes, the thought of going to see Khun left a bad aftertaste in Kim’s mouth. He knew he should take care of his oldest brother, especially since hearing the words Kinn and kidnapped in the same sentence had probably triggered the worst of his PTSD. But seeing Khun meant also seeing Korn, and Kim couldn’t afford his father trying to puppeteer him at a time like that. Big could call with news at any moment; who knew if Kim wouldn’t have to leave everything behind and run to stupid Kinn’s stupid rescue?
Which led Kim to another source of his growing headache. Namely, Chay.
Thankfully, while Kim spiralled, Chay seemed to get a grip on himself. When Kim got up, the boy was already in the kitchen, working on breakfast.
“I hope you like eggs, phi,” he called over his shoulder, “since that’s pretty much all I know how to make.”
Kim didn’t tell him it was still more than Kim knew how to make because Chay already thought he was born with a silver spoon up his ass. No reason to further prove him right.
They chatted about nothing in particular as if yesterday’s heart-to-heart had never happened. The eggs Chay served them were pretty decent; they came with a generous helping of rice, and the sauce artfully arranged into a smiley face. It was ridiculous but also weirdly nice. The conversation between them flowed easily, the topics varying from school to the shows they were watching.
It took Chay’s mind off of Porsche. It took Kim’s mind off of Kinn.
And that, too, was nice.
The domesticity was as natural as it was off putting. After breakfast they cleaned up, and Chay insisted on doing the dishes. Then the boy declared he had homework to work on, which suited Kim just fine, since he needed to get through a mountain of emails that were already piling up in his inbox.
Around noon, Chay brought him coffee and a snack.
In the afternoon, they sat on the couch, hunching over Kim’s phone and deciding on where to order from.
Chay didn’t mention Porsche. Kim didn’t get any new messages from Big.
When the food was delivered, they decided to eat in the garden. The weather was particularly nice; not too humid and not too hot. It would be a shame to spend the whole Saturday inside. At least, that was what Chay said, and Kim couldn’t find any reason to disagree.
Unfortunately, eating outside had to remind Chay of his brother, because he got progressively quieter and more maudlin, which in turn reminded Kim that not one, but two people he cared about had been kidnapped, and might have been hurt, or tortured, or worse — dead.
“I’m sorry.”
When Kim looked at Chay quizzically, the boy simply shrugged and pushed his half-eaten plate away.
“For being such a bad company,” he explained. “I know I need to get over myself, but I guess… I guess I’m still angry at Porsche for leaving like that.”
“He didn’t leave.” Kim put both elbows on the table and leaned over it, as if his words could become more convincing with proximity. “He’s just away for a few days. On a job that I asked him to do. So if you’re going to be angry at somebody, it really should be me.”
Chay snorted, but on his left cheek appeared a shadow of a dimple. He was smiling. “As if I could ever be angry at P’Wik,” he joked weakly. Well, Kim would take it.
He racked his brain for a way to change the depressing course their conversation was taking. There wasn’t a lot he had to offer, so he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “What do you say we get your guitar and have an early tutoring session?”
The thousand-watt smile he got in response told him it was a good call.
In less than three minutes, Chay managed to run to the house and back to the front yard again, the instrument in question and some paper and pencils in his hands. They made quick work of the take out containers, putting them not-so-neatly on the ground, and made space on the table.
“Did you think about what I told you the last time?”
Chay sighed. “Yeah. But I’m afraid not much has changed. I’m the same dateless loser now as I was a few days ago, so coming up with a love song, of all things, would be a pretty abstract experience, as far as I’m concerned.”
“I didn’t ask you to find a date.” Kim rolled his eyes, oddly irritated that this was what Chay had come up with when told to think about how to write about love. “I asked you how you’d go about channeling strong feelings like love into your music.”
“Well, you gave love as an example, so I thought you wanted me to use that.” Chay pouted. “And it’s not like I’ve ever been asked out, so I hit a roadblock pretty much immediately.”
“It doesn’t have to be romantic love.” Kim reached over the table to smack Chay lightly on the head. The boy ducked, laughing. “You can write about anyone. Your friends. Your family.”
Chay looked at him from under his bangs, judgingly. “That’s not any better,” he snarked. “You see, my parents died in a car crash when I was a baby, so the only memories of them I have are probably a fabrication of my mind based on Porsche’s stories and the photos of them we have. My uncle is a gambler, an alcoholic, and a petty criminal, who has no idea how to take care of anyone, himself included. And then there’s my brother. Whom I am currently slightly annoyed with.”
“Not angry?”
“Eh, it comes and goes.”
Kim snorted, shaking his head at Chay’s antics. “Annoyance is also an emotion. Use that.”
“That could work. I bet a lot of people could empathize with the feeling, especially if they have siblings,” the boy deadpanned, rolling his eyes at Kim exasperatedly. His stubbornness was as endearing as it was exhausting. It reminded Kim of his brothers (Still no new messages from Big, he reminded himself), but was just as shitty to deal with when displayed by someone as cute as Chay.
“Well, since there’s no one special you can write about, we’re gonna have to stick with Porsche,” Kim snarked, picking up a pen to start writing down some ideas.
“Who said there wasn’t anyone special?”
Kim blinked, his hand frozen mid-air. Something unpleasant twisted inside his stomach; it felt like an eel trying to eat its way out of his body, slimy, cold, and disgusting. “You did. You said —”
“That I’m dateless.” Chay interrupted him mid-sentence. “Not that I don’t like anybody.” He was looking at Kim intently, like there was hidden meaning between his words.
Kim actively chose to ignore it. Instead, he asked nonchalantly, “So do you?” Chay shrugged in response, leaning over the guitar in his lap, strumming it absentmindedly. “What are they like?”
Chay still didn’t look up. He answered softly, “They’re really cool. Good at playing instruments. They have this dry sense of humor that makes people think they’re rude, but I actually find it pretty funny. The best thing about them, however, is how kind they are. They do nice things for me all the time, and then act like it’s nothing special. It’s a good thing I know better.”
“Yeah. Good thing you do,” Kim echoed. They stayed silent for a moment, Chay looking down, deft fingers running delicately over his guitar’s strings, and Kim staring at him like he was seeing him for the first time.
Kim was the first to regain his composure. He cleared his throat and asked, “So who are they? Somebody from your school?”
Chay shook his head. “Oh. Doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t know them anyway.”
“Well then. Maybe you should write the song for them.”
“Yeah,” Chay laughed quietly in what seemed to be embarrassment. “Maybe.”
“Okay, cool.” Why was Kim speaking so loudly? He didn’t intend to speak so loudly. Fuck. “You told me you’ve already composed the part you think could be the refrain, right? Play it. I wanna see where you’re going with it.”
And so Chay played.
Somehow, the morning crept up on them, strands of daylight tangling up in Chay’s black mop of hair. They were curled on the sofa, having kicked off some of the mismatched pillows to make space for both of them. Chay’s cheek was smushed against Kim’s shoulder, his breathing deep and regular. He looked to be in a deep sleep. Kim was glad that no dreams, good or bad, seemed to disturb his rest.
After their awkward conversation at lunch, they fooled around with Chay’s would-be song for a few hours, discussing its tempo, the general mood, and the overall level of difficulty. Kim thought they could still elevate the composition technically, but Chay was reluctant to do it, afraid he wouldn’t be able to play it well enough before the university’s admissions panel. Kim didn’t share the other boy’s doubts, but like he’d said, Chay was stubborn.
That was okay. He’d convince him yet.
When it became too dark to work comfortably outside, they moved back to the house. They hadn’t discussed Kim staying over again. Judging from the constipated look on Chay’s face, he very nearly brought it up more than once, but each time, Kim changed the course of conversation, leaving no room for awkward questions and even more awkward answers.
They put on a movie, some action flick that had Chay glued to the screen and vibrating with excitement. Kim feigned interest, but did a poor job of it, because Chay kept trying to engage him more in the story by overexplaining everything that happened on screen. Kim still couldn’t care less about the kidnapped daughter of the main character, but had to admit the film was slightly more bearable when accompanied by Chay’s witty commentary.
In a surprising turn of events, Kim fell asleep before the movie ended. Logically, he knew that it was his body’s natural response to emotional exhaustion. Tired and stressed, he was stretched too thin with worrying over Kinn and Porsche, while trying to distract Chay from his brother’s suspicious disappearance at the same time.
But another part of him couldn’t help but feel strange about the fact that he managed to sleep not only in an unknown location, but in the presence of somebody who wasn’t family.
Kim didn’t nap during long studio hours, nor while pulling all-nighters at the local library. Even Porsche, his constant shadow for the last few months, didn’t put Kim at such an ease so that he’d be able to rest somewhere random. If Kim did fall asleep with Porsche nearby, it was always in his own bedroom, where the surroundings were comfortingly familiar.
Kim turned his head slightly, but in their current positions, he couldn’t get a good look at Chay. How could someone so harmless spell so much trouble, Kim didn’t know, but the fact of it was staring him in the face, or rather, breathing wetly on his chest. And Kim didn’t even think it disgusting, which was yet another red flag.
Even though he’d tried to suppress the memory of the recent events, the image of Chay’s face, serious and searching, came to him unbidden. Kim knew what was happening; he wasn’t an idiot. But Chay having some sort of childish crush on him was one of the worst things to happen, right there with Khun losing it completely, or Kinn and Porsche getting lost in that fucking forest forever. Chay couldn’t like Kim, not more than a friend, at least. It was unthinkable. It was stupid. Kim had not intended for it to happen, not in the least.
Porsche would be furious, for one. Not that Kim owed Porsche anything, but the thought of the older Kittisawat’s disapproval left a bad taste in Kim’s mouth. They had a good thing going, a kind of rapport that would be hard for Kim to replicate with anyone else. They liked each other. They trusted each other.
Chay getting his heart broken because of Kim would certainly put a damper on things.
Then there was the fact that Kim didn’t want a relationship. And if he ever entered one, it wouldn’t be normal and sweet, which was what Chay deserved. No, it would have to be something raw and twisted, with somebody who understood where Kim came from. Somebody who could stare Korn Theerapanyakul in the eyes and not fall for the man’s bullshit.
But chances of finding someone like that were slim to none, so Kim just didn’t try. He had enough on his plate with school, his budding career, and the occasional murder attempt against a family member. Or by a family member, if you counted his uncle and Vegas. Where would he even fit dating? Between Khun’s emotional outbursts and Pa’s mind games?
Stupid. It was so stupid. Kim couldn’t believe just how stupid it all was.
He had to nip it in the bud. He’d be happy to stay with Chay on friendly terms, even if it meant facing Porsche’s scorn, but nothing more.
He’d wait it out. It shouldn’t be too hard, after all, Chay was seventeen and would be starting university soon; he’d meet new people, nicer and more interesting than Kim. He’d get over him in no time. He’d realize it was just a dumb celebrity crush and start seeing Kim as his brother’s friend who also happened to be his employer.
Nothing more.
Mind made, Kim subtly searched for his phone, trying not to jostle and wake Chay up. When he finally found the device, squeezed between the sofa and one of the cushions, he immediately zoned in on the new message alert. It was from Big.
They’ve found them. They’ve fucking found them, wandering around the woods like a pair of lunatics.
Kinn was fine. Banged up, hungry, and tired, but ultimately fine.
But Porsche —
Porsche had been shot.