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Porsche likes to think he’s always had good gut instincts, even when he was younger.
They’d improved over time in response to his parents’ deaths, when he and Chay had to live with their uncle in a suspicious part of the city until Porsche turned eighteen and he could finally bring the two of them back to his parents’ house.
He’d almost honed them in a sense once he started fighting to win extra cash on top of bartending. His gut instincts were on high alert for every late night—or rather early morning—trek home through the dark alleys and dimly-lit streets.
And now, Porsche could say that since beginning to work for the Theerapanyakul family, his gut instincts have gotten a lot better. It wasn’t like much else could’ve been expected anyway, being a bodyguard tasked with protecting a man whose self-preservation is a tad bit lacking.
So sue him if at the moment there are sirens going off in his head and his gut’s twisting suspiciously.
Porsche is currently standing at the back wall of the room, one hand wrapped around the other wrist behind him as he periodically surveys the other people scattered about. His stance is defensive, firm and alert just like he was trained.
He and Kinn along with Pete, Big, Ken, Nok, Arm, Pol and about ten other guards are at a meeting with a weapons dealer from the North. Allegedly this dealer and his company had lost a lot of profit and threatened to cut ties with the main family over it.
“This dealer is our best one,” Kinn had said, forehead creased and mouth downturned as he scrolled through reports on his tablet. Porsche had sat next to him on the white sofa in his apartment, sorely tempted to kiss the frown off Kinn’s face but miraculously restraining himself at the last second. With much difficulty.
“He’s always provided us with top-of-the-line weaponry with incredible efficiency,” Kinn had continued. “If we lose our partnership with them, it would be devastating.”
It was Kinn’s idea to have this meeting to clear the air and hopefully save this crucial partnership. Porsche hadn’t liked it, having looked into this dealer’s activities since he lost his profits and not liking what he found at all.
With the help of Arm, Porsche discovered that the dealer planned to bring a whole hoard of men to the meeting, more than he and Kinn agreed on in public. That set off major red flags in Porsche’s mind and he tried to persuade Kinn to cancel and stay at the compound.
“Porsche, I can’t,” Kinn had said, voice strained and tone pleading even as Porsche himself was ready to get on his fucking knees and beg. His gut had screamed at him that this meeting was going to be a bad idea, and never has his gut been wrong. Especially since working for the Theerapanyakuls.
“I know you don’t like this,” Kinn had murmured, hand reaching out to cup the side of Porsche’s face, thumb stroking gently along his cheekbone. His eyes were sad. “I’m sorry, Porsche, I am. But this partnership is crucial to the safety of our family and men. I need to fix this immediately.”
And really, when it came to the safety of the family he’d protect with his life, who was Porsche to argue with that?
So here they are, in one of the various clubs owned by Kinn himself, the music loud and people screaming as Kinn sits across from the dealer with a satchel of money on the table between them. A very large sum, enough to cover what the dealer lost in hopes that the partnership wouldn’t fall through.
Kinn and the dealer are speaking, trying to work out a compromise. Porsche sees the icy look on Kinn’s face and the frustration in his eyes, his jaw tense and growing tenser with each passing minute. He looks over at the dealer next, scanning the man’s form for any suspicious movements towards his pockets or under the table.
There’s nothing that warrants any immediate action, but Porsche’s gut still twists with a sickening uncertainty. He does a quick swipe of the room with his eyes, yet he sees nothing out of the ordinary. Patrons still walk by their section of the club, still dance to the bass thumping through the building.
But there’s still that uneasy, nagging feeling in Porsche’s gut, so he gives each of the bodyguards a look that means ‘be on high alert, something isn’t right’. It’s a look he taught all of them since becoming the head of Kinn’s security.
Pete, Nok, Ken, Big, Arm and Pol are all spread out around the room at intervals with the ten additional men Porsche brought along in between them. Porsche decided it would be more strategic to have the experienced guards evenly scattered to cover all areas of the room. Each time his eyes pass by the guards, they all give a barely noticeable nod in acknowledgement.
Kinn clenches his fists under the table against his thighs, nails digging white crescents into the skin as he feels another tick in his jaw and more annoyance settling in his chest.
No matter how much Kinn bargains and tries to compromise with this dealer, the man just won’t take anything he gives him. Frankly, Kinn’s just about at his breaking point.
Usually by this time Porsche would be next to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder or on top of his own, his little way of calming the raging mafia dragon that rests inside Kinn.
But nothing happens. Porsche isn’t by his side, and now that Kinn thinks about it, he hasn’t been the entire time they’ve been at this meeting. He glances over his shoulder, catching sight of Porsche against the room’s back wall. Kinn pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, dissatisfied that Porsche isn’t in his usual, rightful place beside him.
Schooling his expression into one of faint interest and turning his head back towards the dealer, Kinn leans into the chair cushions and unclenches one of his fists. He raises his hand, crooking his finger and barely glancing over his shoulder towards where he knows Porsche is standing.
“Porsche.”
Said bodyguard’s head whips towards his boss and boyfriend, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. The air in the room changes just so, subtle but noticeable to every single guard that’s there. Even those of the dealer. A moment passes in tense silence, as if everyone and the walls themselves are holding their breath.
At the resulting silence Kinn turns his head fully behind him. He sees Porsche still at his position against the wall, frozen in surprise. His posture is rigid but his eyes are puzzled.
Kinn likes that about his lover, the fact that no matter how closed off Porsche’s body language becomes, his eyes always hold his true emotions.
“Porsche,” he calls again, pleasantly and beckoning for Porsche to stand next to him rather than behind him against the wall. He doesn’t break eye contact with him for even a second, eyes simmering with a look that says ‘come here now’.
Despite the look, Porsche immediately hesitates. Any other time he’d succumb instantly to a demand like this, his body and mind eternally tethered to being in close proximity to Kinn. But in situations like these, when they’re outside the compound and the actions of the other people are unpredictable, Porsche is less than willing to leave his position and let his guard down. Even if he has numerous, highly-trained bodyguards with him.
He’s torn, because should he stand next to Kinn—which a small part of him has been itching to do, used to being glued to Kinn’s side at all times—he’ll lose his wide range of sight that allows him to monitor the room and everyone in it.
Strangely enough, it’s not the first time Kinn’s done something like this.
Porsche can recall other instances similar to this, instances where Kinn beckons him over with that infuriating crook of his fingers and ensures he’s within three feet of Kinn at any given moment. He’s done it in meetings at the compound, whenever they’re walking somewhere together, on the smaller assignments they’ve been on, basically any moment where it wasn’t just the two of them in the privacy of Kinn’s quarters.
If it’s not just the two of them, Kinn always makes sure there’s absolutely zero space between him and Porsche, and more often than not, he’s touching Porsche in any way he can.
(Kinn still makes sure he’s touching Porsche even in private, if the bite marks on his collarbones and bruises on his hips have anything to say about the matter.)
Simply put, ever since they officially got together Kinn has made damn sure Porsche was by his side in some way, shape or form, absolutely refusing to allow Porsche to be behind him or cast aside.
It’s sweet, Porsche will admit that. He thinks a large part of it has to do with Kinn’s fear of losing Porsche after his abduction. Having some sort of physical contact between them keeps his lover’s thoughts from spiraling, because touching Porsche assures him that the younger is here, with him, next to him. If it’s just them or they’re still at the compound, Porsche doesn’t put up a fuss. In truth, he likes it more than he lets on; aside from Kinn’s fears, It’s nice to always have a hand in his or an arm around his waist.
But in situations like this, when he has to be on high alert at every second and ready to move on a whim, he doesn’t like it as much. Not when Kinn’s safety is Porsche’s highest priority.
He hates denying Kinn, so his voice wavers when he finally stutters a response.
“Kinn, I-I can’t—”
“Porsche.”
But obviously—and to literally no one’s surprise—Kinn’s having none of it. The look on his face warrants no argument, and Porsche knows there wouldn’t be any use in arguing with his boyfriend anyway.
When Kinn wants something, the lengths he’ll go to get it are endless.
Porsche sighs in resignation. Pete's off to his right, so he gives the other bodyguard a signal with his hand that means ‘trade places’. Immediately Pete strides over to his spot just as Porsche steps forward and stands next to the arm of Kinn's chair.
In an instant Kinn winds his arm around Porsche's waist, tugging the younger even closer and almost pulling him over the arm into his lap. Porsche stumbles before he finally rights himself on his feet, sending Kinn a look out of the corners of his eyes.
‘Possessive ass,’ Porsche thinks to himself, rolling his eyes slightly at his lover’s antics.
Not that Kinn really has anything to be possessive about; no one’s so much as looked Porsche's way since they arrived, no one’s sidled up to him to try making sweet talk. For a moment Porsche grows confused. Why the hell is Kinn being like this?
“I stand by my earlier conviction, Khun Bar.” Kinn continues on as if nothing had happened, his tone eerily calm. “I have brought you a significant sum to cover what you and your company lost, and then some. I am not too sure what else you desire from me.”
Porsche tunes their conversation out in favor of doing another scan around the room, and that’s when he catches it.
He narrows his eyes, zeroing in on the guard pacing the width of the room behind the dealer. The act of the pacing itself isn’t out of the ordinary; all guards do it regardless of what side you’re on. It's just another way to survey the area and gather necessary information. Hell, Porsche had Ken doing it when they first arrived for the meeting.
What isn’t ordinary is how this particular guard has been pacing, consistently, for the past fifteen minutes. Porsche would know, he noticed that bodyguard doing it earlier, and never did he get the indication that the guard had stopped.
It’s almost as if this guy is prowling, looking for a way in. A way into what?
Suddenly there’s a glint in the bodyguard’s pocket and a flicker of movement.
Anyone else would’ve missed it, but Porsche notices. He’s been trained for it.
This is his job.
He barely has time to react as he grabs Kinn by his shoulders, hauling the older man out of the chair and behind him. He pulls the handgun out of his belt just as a bullet lodges itself into the back of the chair, exactly where Kinn had been sitting just mere seconds before.
The room immediately devolves into chaos. club-goers scream and trample each other as they try to escape through the building’s exit, glass smashes all around them and dust kicks up, obscuring Porsche's vision.
Both sides fire at each other, ducking behind furniture and dodging shattering glass and debris as it rains down on them. Porsche crushes Kinn to his side with one arm, shielding the heir with his body as he fires off bullet after bullet with his other hand. Bodies jerk and slump to the floor as he goes, almost pulling Kinn along as he makes his way towards the exit.
They're almost there when the back of Porsche's shirt is abruptly gripped tightly and he’s pulled backwards, his hands letting go of both the handgun and Kinn in surprise.
“Kinn!” Porsche shouts as he’s ripped backwards. He twists out of the person’s grip and whirls around, kicking his leg out and sending the other man to the floor at the same time he pulls another handgun out of his suit pocket. He fires it once into the man’s throat.
Two more men appear in front of him. Porsche punches both of them across the face, blood spewing from their mouths as he kicks them down. Before they can get back on their feet there’s the sound of two gunshots, and a bullet pierces each of the men through their backs. They're dead long before they hit the floor once again.
Someone roughly pushes at Porsche's side. He whips his head down to see Pete shoving him towards a pillar.
“Duck!” Pete shouts. Both him and Porsche scramble behind the pillar as bullets cross-cross the air and more bodies slump to the bloodied floor.
“Where's Kinn!?” Porsche yells over the commotion. Pete jerks his head to Porsche's left and Porsche follows to see Kinn ducking behind another pillar, sandwiched between Arm and Big as they fire their own weapons at any of the dealer’s guards who try to come close.
Nok emerges from the crossfire and ducks behind the pillar with Porsche and Pete, firing over his shoulder as he goes.
“Porsche,” Nok is breathless as he speaks, his body heaving with exertion. “There’s more of them. I don’t know how many, but they keep coming out. Two of our men are down with more most likely to follow.”
Porsche hears the grim implication loud and clear: they’re outnumbered.
“Pete, Nok,” Porsche starts, expression stern as he fires off another round. “Get Khun Kinn to the car and make sure he stays there.”
“You know he won’t listen,” Pete instantly replies hastily. He jerks out of Porsche's hold and fires two more bullets, each landing in the center of their targets.
Frustration broils in his chest. “I don’t care! Keep him away from the building! Tranquilize him—hell, fucking shoot him in the leg if you have to! I want him out!”
“Porsche—” But even Nok is cut off.
“That's an order!” Porsche roars. His tone leaves absolutely no room for argument. “Get Kinn to the car and get him out of here now!”
Pete and Nok have no choice but to listen. They both scramble to the pillar Kinn's hiding behind, making quick signals with their hands at Arm and Big to go stand with Porsche. Pete and Nok immediately grab onto Kinn's arms and start tugging him away towards the exit.
“Porsche!” Kinn screams as panic rushes through him. He twists wildly in his bodyguards’ holds, frantic as he whips his head around. “Let me go! Porsche!”
But as much as Kinn struggles, he’s no match for the two guards dragging him towards the doors of the club. He’s screaming, that much he’s aware of, screaming Porsche's name as he’s pulled out of the building and towards the car. The sight he sees right before the door closes—Porsche ducking as a bullet whizzes over his head—sends pure terror through Kinn's veins.
“No! Let me go! I need to protect Porsche!” Kinn shouts, pleads. His voice cracks and his eyes start to sting and suddenly his legs feel like they’re about to give out and his chest tightens in fear.
“We’re sorry, Khun Kinn,” is all Nok says before he and Pete push Kinn into the backseat, closing the door and locking it. This particular car has locks that Arm designed for when captives try escaping out of the vehicle.
“No! Please!” Kinn cries helplessly. His hands scrabble against the windows as the engine comes to life. Pete hangs out one of the front windows and fires at some men who chased after them as Nok stomps on the gas, peeling away from the club.
Kinn bursts into wracking sobs in the backseat, the tears breaking free and streaming down his face. He curls in on himself, hands pulling and nails ripping at his clothes as the car rattles through Bangkok traffic. He feels so dizzy and out of breath, each attempt to gasp for air harshly cut off by a choked sob, the tears hot as they fall down Kinn's cheeks.
He doesn’t even know when they make it back to the mansion. He’s crying uncontrollably, the sobs shaking his entire body and forcing painful sounds from his throat. His heart is racing fast, too fast, and he can’t speak at all. He can’t even think, his mind is foggy except for the visions flashing by him, visions of Porsche dying on the floor of the club with blood pooling under him.
“Khun Kinn—” Pete reaches into the backseat for his boss, but Kinn jerks away and Pete flinches at the sudden action.
“No!” Kinn screams before succumbing to more sobs. “L-Leave me al-alone!”
Not even Nok can bring his boss out of the car, nor can the handful of other guards that come rushing into the garage. Kinn wedges himself into the space between the front and back seats, wretched sobs tearing their way from deep down.
His chest hurts, his throat hurts, his head—it all hurts, but nothing compares to the terror coursing through his veins, the fear that Porsche won’t return to him tonight paralyzing him.
.
.
.
It’s barely ten minutes since Porsche ordered Kinn to be taken back to the compound before another car squeals into the driveway. Arm hasn’t even put it into park when Porsche flings the door open and races inside the mansion.
There's a flurry of movement around him as he enters the foyer. Bodyguards run back and forth, some taking their fellow men down to the medical wing as they arrive from the disastrous meeting at the club. Porsche stands on his toes and strains his neck, spinning in circles as he looks for any sign of Pete or Nok or Kinn.
“Hia!”
Porsche whips around at the shout, spotting Chay pushing through the guards towards him. He doesn’t hesitate to catch his little brother as Chay practically flies into his arms.
“Are you okay!? Are you hurt!?”
“Chay!” Porsche breathes. Kim must’ve gotten word of what happened and told Chay. “I’m fine, I’m okay—”
Chay interrupts him and pulls back. Okay good ‘cause you need to go to the garage.”
“What? Why?”
“P’Kinn’s having a panic attack in the car and won’t let anyone near him,” Chay replies urgently. A rock drops in Porsche’s stomach, cold fear crashing over him. “You need to go to him now!”
Porsche doesn’t hesitate. Satisfied that his little brother is safe, he races through the halls down to the garage, sprinting past other guards and employees before nearly crashing into the garage’s door in an attempt to get to his lover as fast as possible.
When he bursts into the garage, it’s a mess of frantic bodyguards surrounding one of the cars. Porsche's heart shatters at the sound of Kinn's wracking sobs coming from the car, loud over the frenzied voices of the guards trying to coax him out.
Nok's head whips up at the sound of the door and relief crashes over him.
“Porsche! Over here!” he calls, waving his hand over the crowd. Porsche rushes forward and barrels through the men towards the car, practically diving into the backseat once he reaches it.
He takes one look at Kinn’s crumpled form between the seats, the older’s back to him, and turns his head towards the open door.
“Out!” he orders. His tone leaves no room for argument. “Everyone out, now!”
All the guards immediately scatter out of the garage, and soon it’s just Porsche and Kinn in the car, Kinn's cries the only sound as they echo off the walls. Porsche's heart seizes in his chest; the sobs are broken and choked, bordering on dry.
Porsche reaches out, fingers grazing the fabric of Kinn's suit. “Kinn, it’s me—”
But Kinn roughly jerks away from his hand, screaming, his voice strangled. His hands dig even deeper into his clothes. “No! Don't touch me!”
“Kinn,” Porsche tries again, calling gently. But Kinn just shakes his head, his cries growing louder and more strangled. For a second Porsche hesitates, because the last thing he wants to do is touch Kinn while he’s panicking like this and make the situation worse. But at the same time, he knows that if he can’t get Kinn to come out of his head, he’s going to make himself sick.
Kinn starts hiccuping then, and Porsche throws all hesitation out the window. He slides across the backseat to be near Kinn's head, reaching down to cradle the older’s tear-stained face in his hands. Gently, as if Kinn were made of glass, Porsche tilts his boyfriend’s head up.
“Kinn, please,” he coaxes softly, thumbs rubbing his cheekbones rhythmically. “It’s alright, I’m right here.”
To Porsche's immense relief, Kinn lifts his gaze and his teary eyes finally land on him. Porsche watches as Kinn pauses, the panic giving way to recognition, before he’s catching the older in his arms as Kinn catapults himself off the car floor.
“I've got you, love, everything’s okay,” Porsche whispers into Kinn's ear. His arms engulf the sobbing, distraught man in his lap, one around his shoulders and the other around his waist, their chests pressed together. He feels Kinn bury his head into his neck, salty tears dripping onto his collarbone. “It's alright now, we’re safe.”
Kinn doesn’t answer with words, only with pained whimpers. But that’s completely okay with Porsche. He simply holds Kinn tighter to his chest as the older sobs into his neck, waiting patiently for him to calm down. The entire time he whispers soothingly into Kinn's temple, one hand brushing through the short hairs along the nape of his neck.
When Kinn begins to calm down, the iron grip on Porsche's vest loosening a bit, Porsche presses his lips to Kinn's forehead.
“I’m sorry Kinn,” he whispers. “I’m so sorry—”
Kinn cuts him off with a punch to his chest that, despite how weak he is from crying, still manages to hurt quite significantly.
“You asshole!” he cries brokenly where his face is still buried in Porsche's shoulder. “Don’t e-ever do that ag-again!”
Porsche wraps his arms tighter around his boyfriend’s shoulders, feeling his heart breaking at the pure distress and anger in Kinn's voice. “I’m so sorry, love, I was just doing my job protecting you—”
“No!” Kinn shrieks. His head whips up to face Porsche, his eyes alight with fury and anguish even through the tears. “Do you not understand!? You're more than my bodyguard, Porsche! You're my partner!” Kinn's fingers dig painfully into his arms. “Nothing is allowed to happen to you!”
Porsche stares into Kinn’s red-rimmed eyes, and suddenly it hits him. All of a sudden he finally realizes what Kinn's actions and words all this time truly mean.
Being next to Kinn? It wasn’t a show of possession like Porsche initially thought. It’s a symbol of equality, a clear declaration that Kinn and Porsche are a team on equal footing and should be treated as such.
That's only reinforced when he remembers the fierce kiss that night in front of the rival gang leader. While some possessiveness was involved, that moment was Kinn publicly telling his family’s rivals that Porsche is more than a guard, that he’s an unremovable part of Kinn that isn’t going anywhere no matter what’s thrown at them.
He's more than just a bodyguard. Goddamnit, he’s so much more. He’s Kinn’s boyfriend and lover, but also Kinn’s partner. His equal. He’s Kinn’s other half, the other piece of his soul that if ripped away, would ruin and break Kinn for the rest of his life.
Kinn carefully lifts his hands and cups Porsche's face. Everything around him is steadily getting clearer, the panic from earlier dissipating the longer he sits in Porsche's arms.
“I need you like I need air to breathe. I can’t let anything happen to you,” Kinn whispers, his voice raspy from crying. Their faces are mere centimeters apart, their eyes locked on each other. “If I lose you, Porsche, I have nothing left. I am nothing.”
“I’m not going anywhere, I swear,” Porsche promises immediately, hands pressing into Kinn in an attempt to soothe him, to make that stricken look on his lover’s face go away.
There's a second’s pause, and then Kinn surges forward and crashes his mouth to Porsche's in a fiery kiss. Porsche responds eagerly, feeling the relief chasing the tension out of Kinn's muscles as their lips slide together, noses crushed against each other’s cheeks.
.
.
.
Not long after that Porsche manages to pull Kinn out of the car, keeping him close to his side as they exit the garage and make their way through the mansion to Kinn's suite. One look at the boss and his head of security sends all the bodyguards scrambling away knowing Kinn's in safe hands now.
Knowing Kinn is emotionally drained and weak from the panic attack, Porsche doesn’t leave his side even for a second. They stand under the shower spray together, Porsche rubbing shampoo into Kinn's hair and soap down his body. He leaves little kisses on Kinn's forehead, his closed eyelids, his nose, chin, and his lips as he goes. The whole time Kinn has his arms loosely wrapped around Porsche's waist.
It's when they’re finally changed into pajamas and laying in their—theirs, not just Kinn’s—bed that Kinn can finally put words to the paralyzing fear he felt today. Glancing down, he slides his right hand under Porsche’s left, locking their fingers together and nudging closer into his boyfriend’s body, forehead knocking against Porsche's cheek.
“I keep reminding myself that you chose to stay,” Kinn mumbles. He feels Porsche’s index finger softly caressing the family ring in a nonverbal act of comfort. “I have to remind myself that after all the hurt I caused you, you came back to me. I know you won’t leave me voluntarily, but…” Kinn swallows the lump in his throat. His eyes sting, but there aren’t any tears left. His voice trails off into a whisper. “But it’s what could happen to you outside of our control that terrifies me.”
A moment of silence passes between them. Kinn inhales Porsche's scent—a mix of faint cigarette smoke coupled with Kinn's cherry blossom body wash—and lets it fill his lungs, eyes closing as he imagines the scent covering him like a blanket.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” Porsche eventually asks, his own voice just as soft. Just as gentle, tender.
“I didn’t want to think about it,” Kinn answers. His eyes flutter open as he shifts his head to look Porsche in the eyes, and Porsche turns his own head to look at Kinn. “Imagining it makes me sick with anxiety. For a while I thought I was past it, I had you back and here with me and things were good. But then all this happened and…I-I guess it just hit me, that one day something could go wrong in an instant and you’d be…gone.”
Porsche sees the briefest flicker of panic, but before it can grow he lightly nudges Kinn's nose with his.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize it before, Kinn, but I understand now,” he says. “I’m still going to protect you with my life—”
Kinn’s hand seizes in his own, his fingers tightening. “Porsche.”
“Shh, it’s alright.” Porsche rubs their noses together again. “But from now on I’ll be careful. I won’t leave you, I promise. I’m not going anywhere, Kinn.”
Kinn gazes into Porsche's eyes, into brown pools of love and sincerity. Everything around them fades away—the sounds of traffic far below through an open window, the footsteps of the guards patrolling the hallway outside his apartment—it all dissipates into white noise.
He looks back down at their hands and, for a fleeting moment, sees a thin red thread wrapping itself around his and Porsche's wrists, tying them together for eternity.
Lifting his and Porsche's entwined hands into the air above them, he gazes up at their arms with a look of wonder. He barely registers Porsche's expression changing into one of mild puzzlement and a question in his eyes, too focused on that red thread winding itself around their wrists.
“What are you thinking?” Porsche whispers.
The red thread dissolves. Kinn blinks, lowers their hands to his chest and turns to face Porsche.
“Nothing,” he whispers back. He gives his lover a small smile. “I love you Porsche, so so much.”
Porsche smiles back, then turns and cups the side of Kinn's face. Warmth bleeds from his hand as he kisses Kinn, soft but firm and deep, a lingering kiss that has Kinn sighing into Porsche's mouth contently.
“I love you too, Kinn,” Porsche murmurs. His thumb rubs soothingly along Kinn's cheekbone. His eyes shine with love and adoration, passionate and fierce. “I promise you, my love, I’ll be right here by your side.”