Chapter Text
When Kim came to, the dull, throbbing pain on the side of his neck was not the first thing that registered in his mind. Rather, it was the floral scent of Tankhun’s perfume assaulting his nose while the older man fussed over him. As Kim blinked his eyes open, his eldest brother let out a shriek, fanning himself with both hands as a tear rolled down his face.
“He’s awake, my little brother is awake!” Tankhun exclaimed, while Pol and Arm patted his back in reassurance.
In no time however, he cried out in a frantic voice for the guards to get the nurse back in the room, his mind seemingly going a thousand kilometers per second as he demanded someone explain to him why exactly was there a fresh bite mark on his youngest brother’s once pristine neck.
“Who in the world would do something like this?! Who would be so cruel, so barbaric? And you—don’t you roll your eyes at me, Kimhan! You…” Tankhun paused for a moment, taking a deep breath as he pressed the tip of his index finger on Kim’s chest. “How in the world could you allow such a thing?! Did we not teach you properly to keep yourself alert and to always be on your guard?”
Kim let out a loud exhale, doing his best to shrug off Tankhun’s hands as the latter continued hovering over him.
He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, taking stock of his appearance: a few streaks of dried blood ran down from the wound, disappearing into the dip of his collarbone. Drops of dark red had also managed to stain the collar of his jacket and shirt, stark against the dark green of the cotton. His hair was disheveled, and the usual silver necklace he wore was partly tangled, as if someone had tried to yank at it.
Despite the pain radiating off of the wound, it looked shallow for the most part, having already begun to clot.
“Please keep it down, Khun,” Kim requested with a grimace, shrugging off his jacket halfway as they both turned to see the nurse waltz in with a tray of saline solution and gauze, Arm and Pol following close behind.
On the other end of the room, Kinn was on the phone and could only shake his head at his older brother’s antics. His shoulders tensed as the person on the other end of the line picked up, his expression suddenly austere. “Papa, I’m at the infirmary right now with Khun. We should be done here in about an hour or so.”
He paused for a moment, listening to Korn's response as he nodded. “Yes, of course Papa. I’ll let Kim know, and have the maids get his suite ready.”
Kim turned away from him in annoyance, allowing Tankhun’s voice to drown out Kinn’s conversation with their father.
Having his father come over and letting him his share of hovering was the absolute last thing Kim needed right now. Neither was he in need of any coddling, for that matter, judging from the instructions his father was dictating to Kinn. All he wanted was to get bandaged up, go home and get some sleep, fully ready to be done with this day.
His hand felt clammy, and he could feel a bead of sweat running down the side of his face as the nurse cleaned the bite, the sting of the saline solution making him wince. The nurse smiled at him apologetically, a subtle flush on her cheeks as she carefully rubbed some antibacterial ointment, then placed a fresh wad of gauze over the wound, securing it with medical tape.
She stood up, holding the tray with both hands. “Please wait here, Khun Kim. The doctor will be in shortly to give you the antibiotics.”
“How long would he need to take them for?” Tankhun asked, worry evident in his voice. “Is the bite terribly bad? Will he be okay?”
The nurse nodded, patiently answering the other man’s questions. “Yes, he’ll be fine. The bite wasn’t that deep, and I didn’t see any sign of infection. Still, we’d like to give Khun Kim the antibiotics, as a precaution.”
As she finished speaking, there was a knock at the entrance, startling them all for a moment. Kinn moved closer to open the door, a relieved smile blooming on his face as he realized who had arrived. He whispered something to the other person, then nodded his head, stepping to the side to let them in.
With some hesitation, Porsche walked in with a boy in tow, looking just a few years younger than Kim himself. His hand was on the boy’s back in a brotherly gesture as he encouraged the boy to stand beside him, pulling him out from his impromptu hiding spot at his back. Once they were inside the room, they turned their attention towards where Kim had sat up on the bed, a complicated expression on their faces.
Kim eyed them both with a cool detachment, faintly recognizing the unknown boy from the strange incident earlier today that had landed him in the clinic to begin with.
Not that Kim would have struggled identifying him in any case, considering the streaks of dried blood that trailed down his chin. He looked like a tragic vampire who lamented his own nature, though to be fair, maybe the sentiment wasn’t too far off. The macabre picture he made did a marvelous job in giving him away, and Kim found himself caught off guard when the boy didn’t say a word, but directed a wai and a deep bow towards him, his mouth set in a deep frown, his posture remorseful.
“Ah, what in the world are we to do with you? Is this how children behave nowadays, with no manners?!” Tankhun scolded the boy with a firm tone, his hands on his hips. “Your older brother may be unruly, but I expected better from you, little man! Surely I don’t have to tell you that you need to apologize to my brother, do I?”
As Kim was about to speak and tell Tankhun to lighten up, Porsche sent the older man a half-hearted glare, before gently nudging the boy forward, his hands lightly tapping his shoulder. “Go on, I’m right here.”
A hushed silence blanketed the room as all eyes turned towards the young boy. He was still looking down on the ground, his hands clasped in front of him, his form quivering with nervousness. The awkward movement of his fingers provided a disturbing contrast when he unconsciously licked his lips, the remnants of Kim’s blood near the corner of his mouth glistening.
“I’m so sorry for hurting you like that, phi,” the boy mumbled quietly, his eyes hidden beneath his long bangs, his voice so soft that Kim had to strain his ears to hear him. “I’m a big fan of P’Wik—of you. I’ve listened to your songs ever since you made your official debut, and well…I guess I got a little too excited.”
Kim kept quiet, still eyeing him from the corner of his eye as he sat further up on the infirmary bed.
“It’s not an excuse, of course,” the boy quickly amended, bringing his hands to cradle his elbows, clearly uncomfortable being the center of attention. “But I got so excited that I…lost control of myself.”
The others in the room may have chalked up the boy’s demeanor as being apologetic and ashamed, but the lax, almost artificial fall of his shoulders seemed to denote otherwise. Neither did it escape Kim’s attention how the peculiar boy in front of him determinedly refused to look into his eyes directly.
He stood timidly with his hands clutching his forearms, appearing to make himself look as small as possible despite his height, as if he were making a subconscious effort to keep himself from fidgeting around.
All signs pointing towards the fact that the boy was hiding something.
“Kim?” Kinn prodded him lightly when he didn’t say anything for a while.
“Apology accepted,” Kim finally concluded with a dismissive shrug, after a short period of silence.
In the grand scheme of things, this wasn’t any stranger than what his other fans have attempted in the past. Once, about a year or so back, a group of fans had sent him a homemade cake with four engagement rings inside. According to the fan letter taped onto the box, they had proclaimed themselves to be his unofficial harem.
It had been flattering, if not also somewhat disturbing.
Suffice to say that the cake was disposed of, and the expensive rings promptly returned to the sender’s address with a stern, but cordial refusal.
Bizarre antics of fans towards their idols like these were a dime a dozen. It was annoying having to deal with those who took their adoration a little too far, especially considering how his manager would no doubt have a field day once she saw the damage for herself. Extra PR work that neither of them asked for and all that.
But still, Kim would manage, one way or another. All he could hope for now was that the bite didn’t scar.
Besides, there was a more pressing issue that needed to be addressed.
“Even so,” Kim began once more, feeling somewhat smug when the boy jolted from where he was standing, stunned that Kim wasn’t finished with him just yet. “I’m sure your brother here has already told you what my family deals in, correct? It’s a bit of an inconvenience for me that a fan of mine is aware…”
Kim waved his hand once, his tone a little peeved. “...of all of this. It goes without saying, but I’d still like to request that you keep it to yourself, hm? We don’t want any—”
“My brother is not some blabbermouth,” Porsche snapped towards him, directing a glare. “Just what exactly are you trying to insinuate?”
“Hia, please…” the boy murmured tiredly, seemingly accustomed to his older brother’s outbursts. He gingerly took his brother’s forearm, as if to pull him back, but Porsche firmly shook it off, taking a step closer to Kim. The boy insisted once more, his hold this time much firmer.
“No, let him speak,” Porsche asserted, his voice daring, to the point Kinn also took a step forward, grabbing hold of the man’s other arm. “Because if there’s anyone who would dare threaten my brother, I can assure you all right now, won’t get off lightly.”
“Kim is just trying to cover his bases,” Kinn quietly insisted next to him, rubbing a soothing hand down his lover’s back. “He brings up a good point. It wouldn’t do any good for the public to know Wik’s connections to the family, at least to those who are none the wiser. This is for the sake of keeping your brother safe also.”
Kim would beg to differ, but chose wisely to keep his mouth shut, since there was some truth to Kinn’s words. With the amount of security the boy ought to already be under due to his new position of being the new Minor family head’s little brother, Kim’s concern wasn’t necessarily his safety, but more so his own prerogative to keep his family obligations and his music separate.
“I’ll keep your secret, P’Wik,” the boy promised, his hold on his brother’s arm tightening ever so slightly.
Kim couldn’t help but let out a skeptical huff, lifting his gaze towards the boy, studying his face for any sign of deceit. He tried to draw the boy’s eyes towards his direction to no avail; the boy was stubborn as they came and judging from the purse of his lips, most likely itching to get out of the room.
What was he hiding?
“I don’t want to cause any of you trouble. And besides, most people wouldn’t believe me anyway,” the boy continued, shrugging his shoulders, downplaying the impact his own actions would have. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”
After a moment, Kim’s shoulders eventually sagged, and he slowly exhaled, nodding his head in acceptance. “Then please continue to see to it that I don’t have to.”
The boy nodded, his profile subdued as he acknowledged Kim’s warnings, directing a polite wai towards him once more. He turned towards his brother, whispering something to him. Porsche listened intently for a few seconds, then nodded readily in agreement.
“We’ll head on up then,” Porsche said to Kinn, patting the boy’s back as the latter turned around, about to exit. Porsche didn’t bother paying any more attention to Kim, acting as if he’d completely forgotten about him. “I’ll see you later, okay?”
In which case, Kim couldn’t have cared less about the man’s sudden, frigid attitude; luckily for both of them, Porsche was Kinn’s problem to deal with, not his. As for the other one…
“Before you go,” Kim called out, lifting a hand to beckon the boy back for a few seconds longer. “What’s your name?”
The boy, who had already turned his back towards him, seemed to tense, his hand frozen on the doorway. From where Kim was currently settled on the bed, he could see him taking a deep gulp, shaking his head as he chewed his lip, contemplating his answer.
Before he could do so however, Tankhun butted in. “Wait, you don’t know his name? Kimhan, don’t you remember getting him out of the warehouse? Kinn himself told me that you’d been there to help with their rescue.”
Kim tried to think back on that day; he did help the boy get out of danger, but all he could remember was calling an ambulance for him, since the younger man had been knocked unconscious. He hadn’t necessarily been in the best of circumstances at the time to be asking for his name.
“I was,” Kim replied, nodding in agreement. He turned to the boy once more, his eyes subtly narrowing in suspicion as he observed the young man’s reaction. “But he and I never had a chance to talk afterwards, since he'd been out cold. You can hardly blame me for not remembering his name.”
The boy let out a shaky breath, his fingers trembling as he absolutely refused to take Kim’s bait and look him directly in the eye. He turned his head over his shoulder, replying to him with a restrained voice. “Porchay. Porchay Pichaya Kittisawasd.”
Kim’s eyes abruptly narrowed in suspicion, and he felt his body give a light shudder, as if an intense, electrifying jolt seemed to course through his nerves, pinning him in place and unable to let him move.
P̴̨̢̪̞̗̫̰͚͌̇̃̇̋̅̅̎͂̀͂͗͌̀̒̌͆͛̉̽̚͝͠ơ̵̛̞̘̪̥̥̼̜̣͉̻̲̼̖͖̘͉͔͇̟͉͓̜̬̰̅̋̀̏̉͌̉͑̀̏̃͆̽̒ͅr̸̡̢̢̖̲̟̟̖̥̘̬͎͕̯͍̥̲̹̬̊̋͆̑̽͛̉̊͛̐̃̑͒̍̕͠c̶̨͇̞̩̓̆ͅȟ̷̛̠̰̞̘͎͔͖̲̬͔͚͍͕͕̥̃̃̀̉͛̄̄̅̽̿̀̈͂͌̅̊͗͆͒̆̂́͒͐̔̚͘͝ͅa̶̧̡̧͉̗̺̮̲͇̝̠̠͉͓͍̱̘̻̻̻̳̥̣̞̥͍̱͙̻͗̑̀̏̆̈́̑̓̋̉͗̓̐͗̎͘̚͜y̷̡̛̜̮͔̰͉͈̩͇̮̙̯͚̏͌͐͑̄̎̎̀̈̑̈͑̒̂͘ͅͅ
A sharp pain flickered in the back of his head, as if someone had pommeled him with a hammer, his vision momentarily spinning, before it seemed to disappear as quickly as it came. As his body tried to catch up and process what had just happened, he found himself still shaking from the remnants of it. Kim let out a grunt, his form doubling over as he clutched the side of his head.
He cursed under his breath as Porsche and Porchay slipped out of the room, with Kinn watching quietly as the doors closed, before turning his attention back to his brother. Not a moment too soon, and Tankhun was suddenly sitting next to him at his bedside, calling for the nurse and doctor to come back quickly, a severe look on his face as he eyed the bandage plastered on Kim’s neck.
“Oh, that boy! I have absolutely no idea what in the world came over him, but I’m this close to giving him another piece of my mind,” Khun rambled out loud, unable to keep himself still while he resumed his fussing. “The audacity to hurt you in this way, I’m just about—”
“Leave it, Khun…please,” Kim gritted out loud, slowly laying his head back down on the pillow to re-center his gravity. The day couldn’t possibly get any worse, and Kim was all but ready to be done with it.
He closed his eyes, blocking out his older brother’s voice, willing himself to take deep, calming breaths.
Resolutely, he decided that once his meeting with the doctor for the medication was done, he was fucking speeding it out of here, regardless of whether or not his father decided to show up.
Neither Porsche or Chay said another word to each other as they made their way to the latter’s rooms. Though Chay tried to look nonchalant, knowing the eyes that were on him and his brother in this place at all times, there was a tension that seemed to hover over him, palpable in the air and as heavy as a dark cloud. He didn’t dare turn around and look at Porsche, lest his brother wanted to see him break down in tears and start bawling like a child in the middle of the hallway.
Chay shook his head, his mind a mire of anxiety as he tried to get a hold of his own feelings.
As he became lost in his own thoughts, he could feel his older brother staring intently at the back of his head as he followed him, willing Chay to share what was on his mind, to unburden himself.
A fruitless hope, perhaps, more than anything.
Thoughts were something else entirely different compared to memories; it might as well be like comparing oranges to apples.
“Chay, what…” Porsche called out when he couldn’t keep it in anymore, before letting his words taper off, biting his lip to keep himself from saying anything further.
They entered the elevator, a few of the guards bowing towards their direction as they walked past them. Chay couldn’t find the energy to politely acknowledge them, a sense of dread beginning to overtake him from the inside out, the implications of what he’d just done gradually settling onto his shoulders, feeling a compulsion to fold in on himself and hide from the world.
He could sense the tears starting to well up once more, the ache in his chest coming back at full force.
From the corner of his eye, Porsche shook his head, his expression dour as they watched the elevator climb up, until they finally reached the twenty-third floor. Without preamble, Porsche walked out first, pulling out his copy of the keycard into Chay’s suite of rooms, firmly grabbing hold of his little brother’s wrist.
He pulled Chay along, dismissing the two guards posted at Chay’s room.
“My brother’s not feeling well, so I’d like to stay with him for a bit,” he said, letting go of Chay’s hand temporarily to pull out his phone, typing something out rapidly. “Can you guys run an errand for me? Then you can take the rest of the day off.”
After a few more seconds, he showed them his phone screen, continuing, “Porchay really likes the soy sauce noodles from this restaurant. I just placed an order, so one of you please pick it up, and get something for yourselves too, while you’re at it.”
The guards nodded, making note of the restaurant address before they headed out.
Once they were out of sight, Porsche pulled Chay inside the room, locking the door with a resounding click. He left Chay standing in the middle of the entryway as he made his way towards the windows, pulling the curtains shut and turning on the lights in the dining room, dimming them to the lowest setting.
He prompted Chay to take a seat, pulling up a chair so he was facing his little brother.
Chay turned away, shaking his head back and forth. The tears were freely running down his cheeks now, and he sniffed out loud, his hands clenched tightly on his lap. “No.”
“Chay, you need to let me look,” Porsche told him resolutely, an urgency to his voice, leaning over Chay to grab hold of his head with both hands. “Look at me.”
“No,” Chay sobbed out loud, his voice teary and shaking. “I don’t want to know. I don’t want to know how much more I messed up than I already have.”
“Chay...”
“Hia, please.”
“Chay!” Porsche exclaimed with admonishment, laying a soothing hand on top of Chay’s head, ruffling his hair, despite the severity of his tone. “I need to take a look, or else I won’t know how to help you.”
A dam seemed to have broken through somewhere inside Chay at that moment, and he felt himself falling forward into his brother’s arms, his emotions breaking free as he wept loudly on Porsche’s shoulder, pressing his face into his brother’s neck.
Porsche held him tightly, running his fingers down Chay’s back, soothing him as he has always done so often in the past.
“I’m scared, Hia,” Chay admitted softly when his cries finally died down, his shoulders trembling. “I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how I’m ever going to face him again.”
“It’s why you need to let me see,” Porsche quietly urged, perhaps knowing in his bones that Chay was about to give in, that they both understood there was no other choice. “I want to help you, Chay, please.”
Chay was quiet for a moment, before nodding his head in defeat, whispering a quiet ‘okay’, closing his eyes tightly, his tears endless. Snot ran down his nose, but he subtly wiped them away, making a face when his sleeve was stained with a streak of thick mucus.
“Promise you won’t be mad?” Chay asked him, his voice cowering and so, so vulnerable. He pulled away from Porsche’s arms, his expression helpless, devoid of any hope.
“I won’t,” Porsche promised, giving his little brother a small, but sincere smile. “You know me better than that, don’t you?”
Chay let out another sob, his lips quivering as he clenched his teeth tightly, unconsciously bringing a hand to his chest to soothe that troublesome ache.
This was not the sort of stress he’d ever wanted to impose on his brother. This was not how he would have wanted to see the disappointment in his brother’s face, of the poor choices he’d made in the last couple of months.
This was not how he would have wanted Porsche to know.
Chay lowered his guard as he leaned back against the chair, his eyes dull as he looked up at the ornate ceiling. From the corner of his eye, he saw the familiar, thin ring of light become prominent around Porsche’s pupils, stark against the dark brown of his irises, the latter’s hand coming up to stroke Chay’s temple.
Gradually, Chay felt his brother carefully enter the stream of his memories of the past few months, as if he were meeting a familiar, imaginary friend. Porsche perused through his memories with a delicate hand, nostalgic and dearly respectful, not unlike the times Chay had seen him flip through their father’s vinyl records in their old house, a soft smile etched on his face.
Physically, the sensation of it was like a cool, soothing gel being applied to his aching muscles after a bad day in P.E. class. Porsche had always been a lot more mellow and controlled whenever he searched through someone’s memories, ever considerate of their autonomy. Though Chay had a better grasp of holding onto the memories and combing through them with a keen, finer sense, he was often clumsy, and would bump into the person’s sensitive nerves without meaning to.
But Porsche exercised their shared ability with a grace and assurance Chay could only ever hope to emulate in the future. It was yet another reason why he had always admired his older brother; Chay yearned for that sort of confidence in his own life one day.
Porsche pored over Chay’s memories for a few minutes more, like studying a cherished, familiar book. A few tears escaped his eyes at one point, before he quietly withdrew himself from the stream, the sensation of it as if he were laying his brother down onto the bed, after he would fall asleep on the couch.
Afterwards, they remained silent for a short while, letting the truth between them settle, to be absorbed, to be acknowledged.
“Well, we know you missed two, at least,” Porsche offered somewhat playfully, dutiful in keeping his promise as he wiped away the tears that had escaped earlier.
“Only one,” Chay insisted, his voice defensive. “I was going very fast, and I hadn’t recognized the warehouse. I’m pretty sure I had been unconscious for most of it.”
He had been completely caught off guard when Tankhun had brought it up a little while ago in the infirmary, but for the life of him, he had not expected Kim to remember it. Chay had been so sure that he had gotten to every single memory, down to their first meeting during the open house in Ananthanekha’s Music Department.
Chay had rifled through Kim’s memories for the last five months, assured that every trace of his face and his very presence from Kim’s mind had been securely locked away, having heavily relied on his own memories to verify each one.
He had been unconscious in the warehouse, of course he would not have recognized it. In his rush to quickly shuffle through Kim’s memories, he had made the fumbling mistake of disregarding it as something that could be left alone.
Chay bit his lip, dreading the prospect of Kim digging into that little memory. A potentially vital clue for Kim to hold onto, one that Chay had unwittingly left behind and sacrificed to him.
“Why didn’t you take away that last one?” Porsche asked, resting his elbow on the table, his eyes contemplative. “It would have been easier dealing with the aftermath, I think.”
“I needed an alibi,” Chay admitted, his lips pouting in embarassment as he looked away. “The guards would have likely seen him come up to my suite. It wouldn’t have been hard for them to figure out it was me who’d bitten him, even if he wouldn’t have had any memory of it.”
Porsche nodded, acquiescing to Chay’s reasoning.
Quite frankly, Chay himself was surprised that he’d even had the energy to think things through logically, especially with the panic reverberating throughout his entire body when he’d realized that there was no other choice but to keep going, once he’d started.
More than that, the last few remnants from Kim’s sealed memories were the least of Chay’s problems at the moment. He glanced over by the window, the guitar Kim had given him a silent witness to their secret conversation, the faux leather of the case slowly collecting dust.
Porsche abruptly let out a sigh, closing his eyes in exhaustion as his head rolled back, a thousand thoughts inexplicably running through his mind. Chay glanced at the profile of his brother, biting his lip in shame as he turned away.
He had messed up so badly. He hadn’t thought things through properly, and had impulsively allowed impulse to guide his actions. It was only now in retrospect that it began to dawn on Chay that keeping a secret like this might just be the death of him.
There was so much that Chay had shared of himself with Kim, it would be impossible to count them all in one sitting. Never mind the music they had shared, the dates they had went on—Chay’s geeky interest in retro games, his favorite foods, the places he loved to visit, his other aspirations in life—he had shared everything with Kim, had made himself into an open book for the other man to examine and appreciate at his own pace, of his own choosing, without thinking of the cost to himself.
Chay’s heart skipped a beat, unconsciously taking a deep gulp.
The guitar pick, the Polaroid pictures, the music sheets he’d left behind in Kim’s apartment—all traces of the time they had spent together, only now they’ve become the very evidence of Chay’s transgression. Hell, even Kim’s text messages to him were most likely still on his phone, as well as that damn video of Chay’s song he had presumptuously rewritten.
Anything Kim encountered in his daily life from herein that had even the most trivial connection to Chay could potentially be a trigger to his memories.
Memories were such flimsy, capricious things. The very nature of them were incomprehensive most times, unforgiving in others.
How the hell was he supposed to get out of this?
“You look like you’re about to pass out,” Porsche remarked fretfully, breaking Chay out of his downward spiral. “Maybe we need to get away from this place, go back to our house for a bit, hm?”
Chay shook his head.
Staying at their old house would be a bad idea; Chay needed to remain here, make himself scarce just enough that he won’t attract Kim’s attention, but just enough that he can keep an eye on the man, make sure the seal took hold. He didn’t know exactly how long he’d have to do that for, if the seal would even choose to hold, but for the time being, Chay couldn’t come up with any other course of action.
This seemed like his best bet.
Besides that, keeping away wouldn’t help his situation, in any case. More than anything, Chay didn’t want to go back to the old house, surrounded by his own memories of Kim and what they had shared within the walls of his former home.
“What are you thinking?” Porsche prompted him quietly, rubbing a hand down Chay’s back, to comfort him.
Chay let out a stuttered breath, his expression seemingly hopeful as he turned towards Porsche. “Maybe there’s nothing to worry about, and I’m just overthinking things. If I can find some way to keep him from remembering anything about me, I don’t think it would be so bad.”
Porsche frowned, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he contemplated Chay’s words.
“Chay,” Porsche paused for a second, trying to put care into his words. “You and I both know that even if we had every resource available at our disposal to use otherwise, there’s no guarantee that we could keep his memories from returning—”
Before Porsche could continue however, Chay shot him a pained look, his eyes darkening.
“Are you on his side, or mine?” Chay asked bitterly, standing up to shake off Porsche’s hand. He walked away from the table, intending to get a glass of water.
“I’m on your side, always,” Porsche answered, moving to follow Chay to the kitchen. “But, nong…”
Porsche stood next to him, a hand on Chay’s bicep as he grabbed the glass from his hands, setting it on the counter. He turned Chay around by his shoulders, so that they were facing one another, Porsche’s expression mildly stern. “You and I have no right to prevent Kim from recovering his own memories. It wouldn’t be fair to him if we did otherwise, or to you.”
Chay kept his mouth shut, his face turned away, though Porsche was well aware he was listening all the same.
“I don’t want you to live the rest of your life walking on eggshells with that man, always wondering whether that time will ever come or not, just because you feel you have a secret to hide,” Porsche continued, bringing a hand to lay on top of Chay’s head. “Even if I hardly know the guy, it’s easy to see that you still care for him very much.”
Chay’s tears renewed, and he wiped his eyes away in frustration, taking a large swig of water. He was so tired of crying; how many tears has he already shed for Kim? How much more must he still do so, until he finally learned to let go of that impossible dream?
“What should I do then, Hia?” Chay asked, dispirited. “I don’t know what I should do.”
“You do what you can,” his older brother simply replied, pulling Chay into his arms. “And when the unavoidable eventually happens, cross that bridge without any regrets.”
Kim sat on the couch apathetically as his gaze followed the various staff coming in and out of the suite, some of them stocking the kitchen with food and other essentials, while the others wiped down the furniture. On the other side of the living room, the maids awkwardly shuffled to get the bedroom ready with fresh linen, their hushed voices echoing close by.
He’d sent Anon to pick up a few things from his apartment, namely his guitar, and was due back in about twenty minutes, notwithstanding the afternoon traffic in the city. The pain on his neck still throbbed somewhat, and Kim yearned to lie down and close his eyes for about an hour or so, once everyone left him alone.
“Don’t look so sour,” a voice chided near him.
Including his father, thank you very much.
“It’s only for a few weeks, will it kill you to indulge me?”
“I wasn’t expecting to play sleepover, Papa,” Kim replied, brushing back a few locks of hair away from his face as he sighed, clearly disgruntled.
“Neither were you expecting to get bitten by one of your fans, I’m sure. And yet, here we are,” Korn quipped without missing a beat, his eyes roaming around Kim’s old suite as if he were looking back at an old, nostalgic memory.
Kim changed the subject, not wanting to linger on the incident any longer. “I haven’t stayed in these rooms in almost three years, I’m surprised it was kept open for me. I thought for sure Kinn would take it, since he liked the view of the river.”
“You know how your brother is, it shouldn’t be any surprise he took the penthouse suite instead,” his father explained, as if his words explained anything. “Looking at the city from a higher vantage point helps to ground him, gives him a little more confidence. He needs that.”
Kim clicked his tongue, walking over to one of the floor-to-ceiling windows to gaze at the streets below. “And where are the newest additions to the family staying?”
His father chuckled. “You already ought to know where Porsche is staying; Kinn has always liked the comfort of having a steady partner near him. As for the other one, he’s on the floor below you.”
Kim nodded, saying nothing.
“Be nice to him,” Korn encouraged him with some amusement. “You and Porchay have a lot in common; he’s trying to get used to living in this house just as much as you are. He’s a good kid, you know.”
Kim let out a snicker, lightly thumbing the wound on his neck, the pad of his finger pressed softly against the white gauze.
“More like a rabid dog,” he mumbled softly to himself, grimacing when his father directed a subtle, knowing grin towards him, no doubt for having heard that last comment.
“He’s a fan, isn’t he? Tankhun told me all about it earlier,” Korn stated casually, taking a sip of his tea. “I imagine this sort of thing comes with the territory nowadays. Alas, I wouldn’t know; kids nowadays seem a lot more enamored with those they hold on a pedestal.”
There was a cold, almost tactless cruelty to Korn’s words, despite the truth of it. It only made Kim’s mood further unpleasant.
“He may be a fan of Wik, but I for one am not thrilled, Papa,” Kim insisted, somewhat annoyed at his father’s insinuation. “It’s a nuisance to have to think about. The last thing I need is a fan accidentally spilling private information online for all the world to see.”
“Do be careful with your words, Kim,” Korn warned him, that same smile still plastered on his face. “Porsche wouldn’t be happy to hear this sort of slander against his brother, and an unhappy Porsche makes for a horrendous distraction for Kinn, as you well know.”
“Are we to be at the mercy of Porsche’s moods now?”
“Hardly,” Korn dismissed, waving a hand as he finished the last of his tea. “But he is family now, both he and Porchay, and well…someone we ought to stay on good terms with, at least for Kinn’s sake, don’t you think?”
Kim shrugged his shoulders, the manner of his body language seeming to suggest that he was wholly indifferent to Porsche and Porchay’s plight. “If that’s all you’re asking of me, then I’ll play nice.”
“Good, then that's settled,” his father announced with finality, moving from the couch to stand up and start heading out.
By this time, the maids and other staff have filtered out of the suite, the lavender air freshener they had placed on the vent of the AC permeated in the air, soothing Kim’s nerves somewhat.
His phone buzzed, Anon’s text message lighting up the screen as he walked his father to the door. Kim gave a brief glance over to the kitchen and living room, his gaze impassive.
“Get some rest, son,” Korn instructed him as he put his shoes back on, his tone fond, his eyes unreadable as he looked over his shoulder, seeming to observe Kim for some sort of reaction. “We’re all very glad for you to be back home.”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The sun had begun to set by the time Kim woke up from his nap, his rest innocuously disturbed by another alert on his phone. He sat up from the bed as he reached for the phone on the nightstand, his eyes wincing as the brightness from his screen illuminated the room.
- Be ready in thirty, nong! Papa invited us to go out for dinner, since he won’t be here next week to celebrate Mama’s birthday!
Kim groaned out loud, his mouth set in a frown. Tankhun’s message was the last thing he’d expected (or wanted, quite frankly) to see, having already taken for granted perhaps that he’d be spared from any further socializing for the rest of the day. While he was genuinely happy for his eldest brother that Porsche had managed to coax the man to finally step foot out of the compound, he was not in the mood to witness the consequences of his eldest brother’s newfound sense of freedom.
It seemed his father was truly keen to show how happy he was to have Kim back home, if only for a few weeks. And when his father was set on something…well, what was Kim to do, but play the obedient son?
Kim shook off the covers and turned on the lights, making his way to the bathroom to relieve himself and freshen up. Before doing so, he sent a text to his brother, lest he start blowing up his phone if he didn’t hear from Kim within the next minute or two.
- I’ll meet you all by the front then. Separate cars, since I presume Porsche and his brother will be coming with us?
Tankhun sent a reply back less than a minute later, his tone utterly indignant.
- No, those two are staying in tonight. It’ll just be us three and Papa. Serves that little boy right, I say! How dare he hurt you like that?!!!
Kim shook his head, setting the phone back down on the nightstand. It’s been awhile since he’d had to deal with Tankhun’s overprotectiveness. He’d forgotten how it could feel utterly suffocating, even if secretly, it also warmed his heart that his brother was the same as he ever was.
He went about his business in the bathroom, brushing his teeth and combing his hair to look presentable. He switched out of the leather jacket he’d been wearing earlier for a dark navy blazer with a fresh white shirt underneath, giving himself a spritz of cologne.
Kim grabbed his wallet and phone, making sure the small pocket knife he always had with him was safely tucked inside his breast pocket.
By the time Kim had arrived at the front entrance, the cars were already waiting for them. With all four members of the Main Family going out together and being all too familiar with the usual number that ought to be in their entourage by this time, Kim immediately noticed the thin presence of their men.
“Where are my brothers?” Kim asked one of the guards posted at the door.
The guard bowed towards Kim, his expression sheepish. “Arm just notified us, Khun Kim; Khun Noo is still picking an outfit to wear, and Khun Kinn is in his quarters with Khun Porsche, also getting ready.”
With how much time Kinn and Tankhun took to get ready for one simple dinner in the city, one would think they were the celebrities and not Kim. Kim rolled his eyes in mild annoyance, inwardly shaking his head. He nodded towards the other man as the latter bowed once more, leaving Kim to his own devices.
He turned a corner and began to make his way to the gardens, bumming a cigarette and light from one of the other guards posted in the walkway leading to Tankhun’s koi pond. When the pond came into view, Kim abruptly stopped in his tracks, his brows darting up in surprise as he saw his young biter crouched low in front of the pond, awkwardly throwing out pellets of food onto the surface of the water.
Kim watched him for a few seconds, before stepping out of his hiding spot, the cigarette still in-between his lips. He took a drag, before flicking the ash onto a nearby ashtray.
He was careful not to startle the other boy too much, choosing to speak in a low, calm voice. “I see my brother has doled out his punishment for you.”
The boy’s shoulders predictably tensed, his fingers hovering over the pellets of food in the plastic container. He took a deep breath, as if willing his body to relax, then continued to toss the food out to the fish, his tone restrained. “How are you feeling, phi?”
He glanced over his shoulder, his expression thoughtful. Yet as before, he refused to meet Kim’s eyes.
Kim wasn’t necessarily sure he liked the fact that he was getting used to the boy’s efforts to avoid him.
“I’m up and about, as you can see,” Kim replied with a shrug, eyeing the boy from behind, like he was something Kim wanted to examine under a microscope. “Considering the circumstances.”
He meant that last comment to be a joke, a playful jab to get the boy to open up. But the young man seemed to only shrink in further on himself, turning away so Kim wouldn’t be able to see his face.
What a strange boy you are, Kim thought, raising a sculpted eyebrow in abject curiosity. He moved to where the boy could see him, taking a seat on the edge of the pond, bringing the cigarette to his mouth for another drag.
Perhaps Kim wasn’t as used to meeting his fans as he believed himself to be, but fans didn’t act this way in general. They were usually starry-eyed, excited, maybe a bit flustered, especially the ladies. Even for those who had sent him the weird present here and there, there was still an infectious level of excitement when they met their idols in the flesh.
Self-proclaimed fans didn’t usually go out of their way to not meet their idol’s eyes, or to try and strike up a conversation. Sometimes, to even hit on them.
Was the boy disappointed in some way at their meeting, Kim wondered to himself, sardonic. If that were the case, that made for the two of them; Kim wasn’t exactly enthused to have a fan who couldn’t help but bite people they supposedly admired. It was exactly as his eldest brother said; where were the children's manners these days?
Before Kim could stand to leave however, the boy turned towards his direction, eyeing the cigarette between his fingers.
“I didn’t know P’Wik smoked,” he muttered softly, more to himself than having spoken to Kim directly. “You’ve never been pictured smoking, not even when you’re backstage.”
“Are you disappointed?” Kim asked him rather coolly without thinking about it too much, voicing out loud a portion of his thoughts.
The question sounded sarcastic in Kim’s ears, but by the time the words had slipped out of his mouth, there wasn’t much he could do to take it back, nor did he really want to, an impulse of sorts beckoning him to try and taunt the boy. Kim let the words hang over them like a storm cloud, the silence blanketing them like static.
In all honesty, Kim didn’t mind having this sort of confrontation with a so-called fan; all the better, in fact. By whatever powers looming above, let them both be disappointed in each other. Perhaps the boy’s disappointment with who Wik turned out to be would be enough of a deterrent and keep him out of Kim’s way in the future.
Perhaps Kim’s own disappointment with the boy would be enough to dissipate his irritation at the young man’s obvious attempts to dodge Kim and any semblance of a normal conversation.
As he expected, the boy’s eyes dimmed upon hearing the sarcasm in his question, and he turned away, chewing the inside of his cheek. He grabbed the lid at his side and pressed it on top of the food container with an audible snap, placing it on the edge of the pond.
He moved to stand up, letting out a trembling sigh.
Kim tried to keep his expression neutral as his gaze looked ahead, his jaw tight while he gritted his teeth, the cigarette hanging forgotten between his fingers. He lasted about two seconds, before he gave into his impulse once more, cushioning the biting comment he’d thoughtlessly directed towards the boy.
“Anyway, I ought to return the sentiment, shouldn’t I?” Kim started out loud, half-hoping he came off slightly kinder this time, halting the boy in his tracks. “How are you feeling? Are you calmer now?”
He was met with silence, only seeming to push the young man further away, and for a moment, Kim honestly considered apologizing. A strange turn of events, since he was the one with a large bandage on his neck.
Even stranger still, that Kim felt the need to remind himself somehow.
“I’m up and about, as you can see,” the boy answered after a moment, his tone somewhat snarky as he slipped a hand into his jeans pocket. “Considering the circumstances.”
Kim couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s attempt to return a verbal jab, and he found himself sitting up straighter, his attention piqued.
He had not been expecting the sass just now. Petty as it may seem, Kim had wanted him to grovel for a bit longer, just enough that the boy would have had no other choice but to reveal whatever it was that he was hiding from him (and Kim presumed, from everyone else).
If the situation had been more straightforward, perhaps the boy simply didn’t want to be near Kim due to the shame of having assaulted another person. If that had been the case, Kim could possibly have found it in himself to let it go.
“Touché,” Kim simply murmured, his eyes still glued to the boy’s profile.
But he couldn’t read the boy’s mind, and so, he held on.
Had he done something else, done something shady, when he’d bitten Kim? Guilt and remorse were natural responses, wholly expected in this sort of situation; the shaking of his lips, the boy’s morose, somber demeanor…all these things should be nothing out of the ordinary.
But the way the boy refused to spare a glance into Kim’s eyes, his defensive, almost standoffish attitude…Kim couldn’t ignore his instinct screaming for him to dig further, to get to the truth, no matter how trivial it may all be in the end.
Secrecy, after all, was entirely deliberate.
Was it something else, perhaps, something to do with Kim’s rescue of the boy a month or so back when he carried him out of the warehouse?
Before Kim could question him any further, Porsche waltzed into the garden, his eyes darting around. “Chay, where are you? Come on, let’s get outta here and grab some dinner!”
“I’ll see you around, P’Wik,” the boy nodded towards him once, turning around in the direction of his brother’s voice.
“It’s Kim.”
He stopped in his tracks at hearing Kim’s voice, his breath hitching. He turned his head just a tad, enough for Kim to know that the boy had heard him the first time. “Huh?”
Kim nodded towards him, the smile still on his face as he introduced himself properly. “Wik is nowhere to be found right now, as far as I can tell. My name is Kim.”
Inside his pocket, Kim felt his phone vibrate, the ringtone for Tankhun’s text alerts momentarily reverberating out loud between them. His hand quickly moved to silence it, the phone hanging between his fingers, his eyes having yet to move from where the boy stood.
The boy nodded his head slowly, his voice drawling out, carefully testing Kim’s name for the first time between his lips. “P’Kim…”
Kim’s heart skipped a beat, his fingers flinching by his side.
An acknowledgement of sorts, no matter how miniscule. There was a strange, irrational sense of relief that seemed to course through Kim’s spine at that moment, as if he’d finally heard this one thing he didn’t even know he’d wanted to hear.
But all too soon, the moment was broken.
The young man straightened out his shoulders and let out an exhale, slapping his leg for a moment as if to air out some invincible dust. “I’ll see you around, P’Kim.”
Strolling down a series of hallways after stepping out of the elevator and taking a turn to the left, someone would find, for all intents and purposes, a seemingly abandoned playroom. Or perhaps it was more accurate to say that the room may have once been an old bedroom or study, but regardless of the old-fashioned interior, the large room had evidently been converted into a playroom for teenagers.
And it hadn’t been hard to figure out who the playroom had been for, Chay thought with some amusement, as a medium-sized studio portrait of Korn’s three sons hung by the landing leading into the room, giving away the secret relatively quickly, when Chay first stumbled upon the place.
The suite was divided into two rooms, the first room housing a three-piece sofa set, a large flat screen tv, as well as a fully stocked assortment of different consoles, games, and books, well-worn by use. In the other room, there was a billiards table, as well as an air hockey tabletop, the far wall lined with pool cues.
On the opposite side were two loft beds, the mattresses stripped of sheets, a fine layer of dust covering most of the furniture.
Chay had found the room quite by accident, a few floors down from Tankhun’s suite, the night after he’d tampered with Kim’s memories. Sleep had eluded him, the guilt eating away at his chest refusing to give him respite, even for just a few blessed hours.
With how short-staffed the compound was at the moment—Chay would know, since Porsche was in charge of vetting the new hires, and he had connections with a handful of skilled fighters from his time in the underground rings—he hadn’t been too surprised to see the hallway empty, with not a single bodyguard in sight.
An empty floor meant no one of importance needed guarding here. An empty floor meant most of the staff did not go here often, or perhaps it just wasn’t priority enough for the routine upkeep.
An empty floor meant Chay could wander around here for a while and take in the peaceful silence, without having to feel as if he were inside a silver cage while curious, wary eyes followed his every move, most of them wondering who this extra cargo was that Porsche had brought with him to the compound.
After his lucky discovery, Chay had waited for the housekeeper to arrive in his suite the next day, asking her for a favor.
“Do you have a spare cart of cleaning supplies I can borrow?” he asked her carefully as she wiped down the granite countertop in his kitchen.
The housekeeper, Nina, tilted her head in confusion, her hands pausing their work as she regarded Chay curiously. “We should have one, but may I ask why?”
“Ah, well…” Chay hesitated, licking his lips. “Actually, maybe it’s better if I show you?”
Chay had seen no point in keeping his newfound discovery a secret by any means, as the staff members were in all likelihood aware of the room’s existence already. It wasn't hard to picture Korn’s three sons growing up one by one, eventually developing their own interests and becoming busy with their own lives, until one day they stopped coming altogether.
There was a sense of melancholy in him in thinking about it that way, but one he understood a lot more than he cared to admit, ever since Porsche had left him temporarily to work in this grand place.
He wasn’t so much interested as to who knew about the playroom, but rather how those who knew about the room would describe this intimate space.
How often did the three siblings spend time here together? Who chose the furniture? Which sibling played which games? Did they ever invite their school friends here? What have these walls seen, from the time it had brimmed with life and noise and family, up until it had no choice but to be quietly abandoned by the passage of time?
“Ohh, now I see what you mean,” Nina exclaimed in surprise as she wheeled her cart in behind Chay, the thick accent of her voice exaggerating her amazement. “Goodness, I haven’t been scheduled to make rounds here for many years now.”
“How long have you worked for the Theerapanyakuls, P’Na?” Chay asked politely as he leaned on the arm of one of the sofa chairs, his eyes inquisitive, before he remembered himself. “Um, that is to say…if you don’t mind me asking.”
Nina was one of the first staff members he’d befriended here in the compound. She was a middle-aged woman, roughly in her early fifties, with a husband who worked in a bread factory, as well as one son, currently attending university abroad.
She was a sweet, gentle lady, infinitely patient with Porchay whenever he needed help cleaning up his suite, or teaching him how to use the very complicated washing machine he still had trouble getting used to.
He didn’t want to offend her, just for the sake of his own curiosity.
“This coming June will mark twelve years,” Nina replied pleasantly enough, pulling out a wet rag from her cart and promptly moving to wipe away the coffee table by the sofa set. “The billiard table was Khun Noo’s idea. He used to bring so many of his classmates over, and they would just hang out, even on a school night. There was always some ruckus when that man had company over.”
“Does he have many friends?”
“He did. He was a bit of a social butterfly. Still is, in many respects,” Nina chuckled, replacing the rag with another as she returned to the coffee table, wiping down the legs.
Chay, eager to help, grabbed a feather duster, walking over to the large tv stand. He dusted the surface, sneezing a few times as the dust flew to his face. “What were they like, when they used to spend time here?”
Nina shrugged, her voice continuing, “Khun Kinn wasn’t too interested in games to begin with, he preferred music more. But still, he used to play a lot with Khun Kim. All those games over there…”
She pointed towards the shelf next to the stand, where Chay could see rows upon rows of PS3 games, as well as a handful of Xbox 360 titles, neatly lined up like stacked dominoes.
“They were collected by Khun Kim,” Nina finished, wiping her hands on her apron. “He used to go out every couple of weeks with a guard named Leo, shopping for games, trying out guitars, drinking. He was a handful, that boy. They all were.”
Chay giggled softly, his wide eyes lighting up his face. “Does P’Leo still guard Khun Kim? Does he miss the shopping trips?”
Nina shook her head, her expression becoming downcast. “No… There was an unfortunate accident, when he was with Khun Noo one day.”
Chay nodded his head, knowing not to pry any further. A tragedy was never just the story of one individual, but composed of multiple fragments of people’s thoughts and feelings, their biases and own incentives, gradually shaping the narrative of what made the events a tragedy in the first place.
Perhaps Leo had been like a son to Nina. Chay could have believed it; in a curious sort of way, a shared sense of loss often binded those who had nothing else binding them.
Maybe that’s why the Theerapanyakuls were so efficient at what they did for a living, Chay thought sullenly. They knew how to create bonds out of nothing, and with every tragedy they crafted, the machine that was their empire only grew all the more stronger for it.
One need not have looked any further for evidence of that than the kind woman before him, mourning the loss of a man who only existed in her memory, at least within these rooms.
“In any case, I don’t want to keep you from your duties, P’Na. I’ll be hanging around here for the rest of the day,” Chay changed the subject , giving the woman a bashful smile. “There’s a lot to clean up here, and…”
His voice trailed off, leaving it open for the woman as to whether or not she wanted to continue helping him.
Nina shook her head, and stood from where she’d been crouching low next to the coffee table, returning Chay’s smile with one of her own.
“I’ll tell you what, why don’t you keep this cart, and I’ll get going and grab another one?” she offered, her eyes pitifully moist, before she dabbed at them with a handkerchief from her pocket. “Just let me know when you’re done here, and I can show you next time where the carts are, if you need them again.”
Chay saw her off at the elevator, before he turned back around and returned to the room, taking in the silence as he was once more left alone with his own thoughts. Letting out a determined sigh, he shook off the long sleeve he’d been wearing and hung it on the cart, leaving him only in his undershirt and cargo pants.
Promptly, he grabbed a handful of the cleaning wipes and continued to clear away the dust from the TV stand, his hands moving as if on auto-pilot. Once he was satisfied with the coffee table and the TV stand, he moved to grab a large wet rag, carefully running it along the faded leather of the couch set, his nose sniffing at the strong, chemical scent of the cleaning solutions.
He cleaned throughout the morning, pausing once in awhile to inspect curious baubles that caught his attention; Kinn’s collection of postcards from friends all over the world, various miniature glass figurines displayed inside the ornate display cabinet by the corner, Kim’s old workbooks from primary school, neatly stacked and tucked inside one of the drawers in the other room.
Away from everyone else in this secluded little area, Chay discovered long buried memories without having to look through anyone’s mind, awed by how much there was to discover in this old, forgotten space.
Just a little before lunch time, Chay decided to try and boot up the PS3, curious to see what games were already installed in the console.
Despite his interest in games, Chay had never actually owned a console before; Porsche had never been able to afford getting one for him, even when they’d gone on sale, and Chay had been much too aware of their financial situation to have ever asked for something frivolous. The only times Chay had gotten a chance to play was when he and his brother would visit one of the larger electronic stores the next town over from where they lived, a demo display readily available for anyone to try out.
As the old PS3 sluggishly booted, a copious amount of software updates automatically loading as the navy blue of the home screen glowed right in front of him, Chay wandered into the other room once more.
The two loft beds belonged to Kinn and Kim. Chay figured as much, but had confirmed it for himself when he discovered their respective backpacks, stuffed inside the built-in closets and heavily coated in dust.
He had been distracted by a text Porsche had sent him while he’d been snooping around Kim’s study area a little while ago, and had left the backpack laying on the ground after he’d dusted it.
Wiping the sweat away from his forehead, Chay grabbed the edge of his shirt to wipe off the dust and grime from his face, before settling onto the floor once more, reaching for the backpack and settling it on his lap. Carefully, he unzipped it, his attention focused on the task.
Inside the backpack he found a few advanced workbooks, an old planner, and an empty bottle of hand sanitizer. He dug around a little more, finding a few bullet casings (for which he absolutely refused to think about too closely), as well as a leather pencil case.
Chay frowned, looking at the items surrounding him on the floor.
He had been expecting to find…something a bit more substantial than this. If Chay were being honest with himself, he’d been hoping to find some of Kim’s old sheet music, or perhaps an old guitar pick. The school workbooks were interesting—Kim had been a studious child and had done well in school—but nothing that Chay hadn’t seen before.
It felt anticlimactic, somhow. While there was surely more to explore in this old room, Chay couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
He started piling the materials he’d pulled out, intending to return them inside the bag, until his ears perked up when he heard the subtle crackling of paper as he gripped the pencil case in his hand.
Chay blinked, intrigued.
He opened the pencil case and pulled out a folded slip of paper, yellowed by age, the texture of the sheet rough beneath his fingertips. The note seemed like it had been opened and refolded multiple times, the paper wrinkled along the seams.
He unfolded the note, his eyes slowly reading through Kim’s neat handwriting.
_________________________
How are you, Pear?
It’s been so boring playing alone in the studio, ever since you left for Auckland.
There really isn’t anyone else I can practice chords with, and Kinn has been busy with Papa lately. Khun keeps to his rooms, and Mama keeps him company all day. I’m worried she’s not getting enough sleep.
Are you getting settled in? What’s your new school like?
When you visit Bangkok to celebrate Songkran with your grandparents, please give me an answer to my question. Don’t forget.
As you'd left me behind, I'm certainly doing my best not to be too obvious in showing how much I miss you–
_________________________
Chay's breath stumbled as he stopped himself from reading any further, the pounding of his heartbeats ringing loudly in his ears. Closing his eyes, he took a steadying breath, willing himself to unfurl his fingers from the paper.
Once he had calmed himself down, Chay refolded the note, following the creases dutifully, before returning it to the pencil case. He ignored the heaviness in his chest, the blood rushing in his ears. He returned the items inside the backpack and stuffed the article once more in the closet.
Chay felt shame color his face, bile threatening to rise from within his throat.
No matter his own grievances with Kim, that gave him no grounds to stoop to the older man’s level. A love letter was a private matter; Chay certainly wouldn’t have wanted Kim to see any love letters he’d written to a previous crush (if he had ever written any, which he hasn’t).
He got up from where he’d been seated on the dusty carpet with a loud grunt, his feet sore from having sat on the ground for some time. He stood still for a moment, his eyes seeing nothing.
Chay wasn’t jealous. What reason could he have for being jealous?
He would have been a child, just barely starting primary school, when Kim had written that love letter to the individual named Pear. What business could Chay have with the man’s past, especially when he was the one who’d already messed with it, far too much than he should have ever allowed himself to do?
It would have been like punishing a baby for crying when they were in want of food or a new diaper. Why be bitter towards something that has long passed, forgotten and abandoned inside that closet?
That letter was Kim’s business, even if it’s been long forgotten. As far as Chay was concerned, he had nothing to do with it, and thus, he had nothing to expect from Kim, not anymore.
The PS3 in the other room came to life as the home screen popped up on the television, the echo of the reboot sound bouncing off the walls. Chay was startled out of his reverie, his shoulders jumping at the noise.
With a determined expression on his face, Chay returned to the other room without looking back, persuading himself to forget what he had read all together, trying to pump himself up for the stacks of games he was about to enjoy as his reward for having (re)discovered the room.
He perused through the long line of games neatly displayed in the cabinet, letting his mind wander as he decided which title he would play first.
Chay glanced towards the portrait near the entrance, making a mental note on Kim’s features from when he had been a young teenager, traces of baby fat still evident in his cheeks, not nearly as sharp then as they were now. He’d sported shorter hair when he’d been younger, and Chay could definitely see where Kim’s preferences for his style came later in life; the longer hair suited him much better, and beautifully framed that pretty face of his.
Kim’s eyes were the same though, Chay thought, cold and distant, even back then, as if he already had secrets to hide from everyone else.
If he had searched through Kim’s memories beyond their first meeting, what other secrets would he have discovered along the way? Would he have been able to find the means with which to understand why Kim did what he did, any rationalization that would have redeemed him in Chay’s eyes, to convince him that somewhere along the lines of, “He didn’t mean to hurt you; at the end of the day, it was just work to him, nothing personal,” was an acceptable, milder answer, than getting none at all?
Would Chay have found some excuse for himself, any justification he could have used to candidly ask out loud if it was all right now to love Kim, without having to hold onto his anger?
He sniffed, his eyes feeling the familiar sting of tears, yet again. Chay mentally slapped himself, focusing once more on his task.
He picked out an old sci-fi horror game aptly titled Alien: Isolation, slipping the disk into the drive and waiting for the screen to load. As the main menu came into view, a prompt came up, his brow furrowing in confusion for a moment, before he read the disclaimer.
The hardware is running on extremely low memory. Please delete old or unnecessary files and game saves, in order to free up space (15 GB or more). Alternatively, creating new files and game saves will automatically confirm with the user if it’s acceptable to overwrite the current data.
Chay read the disclaimer twice more, before dismissing it, clicking the ‘I Understand’ button without a second thought.
Gingerly, he settled onto the couch closest to him, relishing the softness of the worn leather against his back, his phone next to him on the arm rest.
He let the eerie, unsettling music of the game’s main menu theme song wash over him, the image of a lone spacecraft next to the expanse of a large planet somehow filling him with a strange sense of an adrenaline rush.
The arrow point on the screen hovered over the first choice on the menu for a few seconds, before Chay clicked on it.
→ New Game
Kim looked up just in time from where he’d been reading Arm’s notes on the security cameras, when the image of Porchay came onto the screen in his peripheral, carefully wheeling out a housekeeper’s cart from the old game room. His eyes narrowed, Arm’s notes momentarily forgotten, his lips quirking up in a smile as he watched the boy struggle for a moment, before he managed to maneuver the cart properly into the hallway.
“Why is the game room open?” he asked out loud, startling Arm, who had been typing in notes on his laptop.
Arm was dumbfounded, his head currently filled with security camera logistics to have been able to answer Kim right away. “The game room, Khun?”
Kim nodded, pointing towards the camera feed. “That boy, Porchay is his name, right? He just came from there; how did he gain access to it? I’m pretty sure Papa had ordered for the game room to be locked, since no one was using it.”
Not that Kim worried there was anything particularly important in that room, but he couldn’t help but feel intrigued.
There was nothing in that room that would interest a boy Porchay’s age. The games in there were at least ten years old, long past their time, and Kim wasn’t even sure the hockey tabletop still blew air.
Arm shook his head, his expression apologetic as he wrote a reminder in his notebook. “We’ll look into it, Khun, and let you know. I’m not sure either, since neither Khun Noo or Khun Kinn have visited that area lately, as far as I know.”
Kim nodded, getting back to his task of reviewing the camera feeds. He saw Porchay once more as he pushed the cart through the hallway and into the elevator, wireless headphones in his ears, his fingers tapping in rhythm to the music.
The boy wore a subdued expression, his bearing emanating a fatigued aura. As the elevator doors rolled close, Kim internally shrugged, dismissing him from his mind. 'What a strange boy.’