Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Through his bedroom window, Chay had enjoyed the honey-soft warmth of the sun as it set. It had been a beautiful day, with glass-clear skies and a light breeze, no clouds in sight.

So he’s a little surprised when, just after 10pm, rain starts hammering on his window, demanding his attention. He gets up from his desk, where he’s been working on an assignment and crosses his spacious room to gaze outside.

The clouds overhead make the sky look even darker than usual, blotting out any possible glint of stars and giving the Bangkok skyline an ominous, roiling feel. The rain is a midnight inkspill, gliding down Chay’s window in morse code dots and dashes.

He’s just thinking how ambient it all looks when a flash of lightning cracks open the night sky.

Chay stumbles back from his window.

There are a few beats of silence, where he stands motionless, frozen, hoping that perhaps he imagined it. Perhaps it was a light from one of the skyscrapers in the distance.

Then a far off rumble of thunder cuts through the quiet and Chay’s breath stutters. He backs away from the window further, heart starting to pound.

Not imagined, then.

Chay has been afraid of storms for as long as he can remember. His first memory of experiencing one was hiding under the kitchen table, eyes scrunched shut, trying to blot out the violent cascade of the thunder with his hands over his ears while he waited for Porsche to come and find him.

He’d been in the kitchen when it started and he thought the house was falling down, the noise was so loud.

Knowing that, if there was an earthquake, he was supposed to get under a door frame or table, he had thrown himself under the kitchen table and waited for the ceiling to collapse.

It didn’t, of course. Instead, the storm continued to rage around the house and Chay was too scared to move from his crouched position and run to his room.

When Porsche found him, he’d bundled Chay into a hug and held him so tightly that Chay had felt instantly safe. After that, whenever a storm hit, he’d run and climb into Porsche’s bed and Porsche would hold him close, humming soothing melodies into his hair.

But things are different now he lives at the compound. Porsche sleeps with Kinn on the floor above, so Chay can’t just go and climb into his bed any more.

It's Porsche and Kinn's bed; Chay turning up unannounced and flinging himself in between them would be weird. Really weird.

He likes P’Kinn now that he knows him a little better and sees how happy he makes Porsche, but they’re definitely not close enough for him to hug his brother while Kinn is right there in the same bed. Nope. Too weird.

Chay also isn’t sure that P’Tankhun would appreciate a late-night visitor who just wants to be cuddled, even though the older man has been incredibly kind and welcoming to Chay, inviting him on more than one occasion to watch K-dramas with him.

Then…there’s P’Kim. Kim has been spending a lot more time at the tower since the minor family attack, but Chay absolutely isn't going to confide in him about this. No way.

He's still mad at P’Kim for the way he toyed with his feelings and used him for information. Chay isn’t speaking to him other than the occasional greeting and that’s not going to change just because there’s a storm brewing outside.

Though…he has noticed the way Kim sometimes looks at him when he thinks Chay isn’t paying attention. He looks at Chay with something akin to regret.

They pass each other in corridors, within touching distance but thousands of miles apart, birds migrating to different continents.

Chay makes a point to not say anything more than a stony hello, frost creeping up the edges of his words, but he usually catches Kim’s eye, mainly so he can scowl him.

And once or twice, P’Kim has looked…hurt. It’s strange really, when Chay’s the one who had his heart broken. He should be the one hurting; he still is, in fact.

Everything he thought he’d had with Kim, all their shared moments writing music and getting to know each other were built on a lie.

After sending the video two and a half months ago, Kim has made a grand total of two attempts to speak to Chay. The first was when he was coming into the foyer of the compound as Chay was leaving. It was an accidental meeting and one that neither of them was prepared for.

Kim had said Chay’s name so softly that the breeze coming through the main entrance doors had swept it up and whisked it away into the afternoon sun. But Chay had still heard and his head snapped up.

Their eyes met across the marble flooring and Kim looked completely impassive. That’s when Chay knew he couldn’t do this. Not there and then.

If P’Kim wasn’t feeling even a fraction of the kind of dented, shattered hurt that Chay was, he couldn’t speak to him. He couldn’t break down again and watch Kim stand there dispassionately while he wept in front of his brother and an audience of bodyguards.

So he had sheared their gaze and continued out of the foyer after Porsche, Arm, and several others, not looking back.

The second time Kim tried to speak to him was when Chay had been standing on the terrace of Kinn and Porsche’s suite. He’d received a particularly good grade on one of his university assignments (98%, he’d nailed it), so Porsche said he’d take Chay out for dinner as a congratulatory treat.

Chay was leaning against the railing, enjoying the sun-drenched view across Bangkok as he waited for Porsche to change. He’d felt a presence behind him, like someone had displaced the air, and he’d turned around.

“Hia, are you–”

He’d stopped, smile sliding right off his face, because it wasn’t Porsche. It was Kim.

“Oh. Hello P’Kim,” Chay had said, tone glacial.

“Chay.”

Again, Kim said his name in a hushed voice, but this time it didn’t blow away on the wind. There was more substance to it and it carried to Chay, divulging all the melancholy in Kim’s tone directly into Chay’s heart.

“What do you want?” Chay asked, fighting to keep his own tone hostile.

Everything was a struggle around Kim these days. Talking to him was a struggle, sometimes even just looking at him was a struggle because it brought up diaphanous memories of happier times. But staying mad at him was a struggle too.

Kim had just stared at him, as though he wasn’t going to say anything, but then he’d swallowed audibly and summoned words.

“I wanted to–”

“Chay are you rea–” Porsche had broken off as he’d come strolling round the corner and onto the terrace.

He must have sensed, from the way Kim and Chay were facing off, and the charged hostility in the air (mainly coming from Chay, if he’s honest), that something was going on.

“Did I interrupt something?” Porsche had asked.

“No,” Chay said firmly. “I think P’Kim was here to see P’Kinn. And I’m ready to go, so let’s go.”

He had walked back into Kinn and Porsche’s suite without another word to Kim, breezing past him like it didn’t still send an ache through his chest to be in such close proximity to him.

Since then, Kim hasn’t tried to speak to Chay again and Chay can’t help but wonder what he was going to say before Porsche had interrupted him.

I wanted to…what?

A flash of lightning brings him back to the present and he jerks further away from the window, feeling his heart begin to pound in time with the stuttering beats of thunder coming closer.

The storm is picking up.

It’s fine. This is fine. He can’t seek out someone to wait it out with, but that’s happened before when Porsche has been at work.

Chay has a game plan for these sorts of situations now. He crosses to the long windows and draws the curtains as tight as they’ll go.

There’s a button that’s meant to automatically close them, but it’s not fast enough for him, especially not when he sees a zigzagging fork of lightning right before he presses the two centre folds together.

Even once they’re shut, flashes light up the small section of floor underneath them, making it look like the electricity is trying to reach inside and burn his toes.

The thunder comes again and Chay shudders, grabbing his big headphones. They’re still a little streaked from where his hair dye leached the colour out of them several months ago. His hair is back to brown now, but they still carry the remnants of those weeks when he was test-driving the dark blue.

Chay climbs into his big queen-size bed and gets under the covers, drawing them right up to his head and scrolling through his most relaxing playlist.

He puts on a soothing ballad to try and drown out the sound of the storm, but the thunder announces itself directly overhead with a guttural boom.

It's so loud that it seems to rattle the air around his window panes, trying to shake them loose of their frames and force its way in. Chay feels his whole body begin to tremble under his quilt.

He knows it’s a fear response and he wishes he could turn it off, but his muscles aren’t listening to him. He’s becoming his own small electrical storm, arms sparking and legs juddering in response to what’s happening outside.

He tries putting on some rock and turning up the volume until he’s sure the bodyguards on the floor below must be able to hear it, but even that isn't a match for the sky.

The storm is gathering pace now, like a pitcher winding up to take a throw.

Lightning bursts into the room every fifteen seconds, still finding routes inside despite the closed curtains. Thunder rolls through the clouds above the tower like a whale trying to cut through a wave and crush its prey.

It can’t get in and it can’t do anything to you, Chay tries to tell himself but it’s no good. The noise frightens him.

His music is doing little to help so he takes his headphones off and tries putting his hands over his ears to block out the sound.

He thinks for a second it might be working but then another, louder boom sounds overhead and no, it’s definitely not working, the thunder just psyched him out.

He closes his eyes, trying to slow down his breathing and relax his still-quaking muscles. But the streaks of light that illuminate the room have claws, getting closer with every flash, even behind his closed eyelids. Chay can't help it, he begins to whimper.

This is the loudest storm he’s experienced in years. It feels like it's going to shatter the glass of his windows, sending shards all over him.

It also doesn’t help that his room is ten floors up. He’s far closer to the sky here than he ever was back home with Porsche. It’s not a comforting thought.

Another bout of thunder crashes outside and its echo is such a deep baseline that Chay feels it in his chest. The lamp in his room dims and then brightens as a power surge hits the tower.

Chay only realises he's making small sounds of terror when someone knocks on his door.

Hoping it might be his brother come to check on him, he jumps out of bed and dashes across the room. Nothing would be better right now than one of Porsche’s firm, grounding hugs.

Chay yelps unintentionally when a clap of thunder catches him unprotected several meters from his bed. He quickly swipes away the tears that have sprung into his eyes and runs the rest of the way to the door, throwing it open.

"Hia–"

He stops short. It's not Porsche. It's Kim.

"Oh, P'Kim.” He pauses for a second, thrown by Kim’s presence, before asking, “What do you want?"

He tries to school his expression into one of disinterest and his voice into a bored, flat line, but he can tell from the way Kim's eyebrows lift as he takes in Chay's face that he isn't successful.

"I just wanted to check if you were okay," Kim says slowly, eyes roving over Chay as if looking for injuries. “The storm is pretty bad.”

If Chay didn’t know any better, he’d say Kim looks...worried. There’s a small crease between his brows that he’s not attempting to hide.

Chay realises with a sudden pang that Kim probably heard him trying not to cry. The thought makes him feel strangely stripped bare.

"I'm fine." Chay tries to sound annoyed, but he knows he's still shaking, and another tear is trying to escape from the corner of his eye, so the effect is ruined.

"If that's all..." he moves to close the door on Kim.

"Chay, wait," Kim says softly.

Chay pauses. His heart somersaults in his ribcage at those words and at the strange weight in Kim’s tone. He meets Kim’s gaze, trying to read the meaning there. When he can’t, he says austerely, "I'm busy P'Kim."

"I-" Kim seems to be searching for the right words.

Come on, Chay thinks, fight for this. Fight for me. Talk to me, stop me from closing the door on you.

But Kim doesn't say anything else, he just looks at Chay with a conflicted expression. Chay sighs and begins to shut the door once more.

Then, all the lights in the room and corridor go out.

At the same moment, thunder sounds directly overhead.

Chay can’t help it, he makes a panicked sound and bolts forward, one hand fisting in Kim’s t-shirt, the other grabbing onto whatever’s in front of him in the dark. It feels like Kim’s bicep.

The thunder continues to grumble for a few more seconds before petering out, leaving Chay’s harsh breathing the only sound in the room. Or on the threshold of the room, technically.

“Chay.” Kim says his name like he’s holding an injured bird, and Chay can’t see him in the pitch black of the corridor, but he can feel the warmth from Kim’s chest and arm heating up his hands. It’s…comforting. He desperately doesn’t want it to be, but it is.

“Are you okay?” Kim asks, and there’s a gentle quality to his tone that Chay hasn’t heard since they lay on the sofa together, all those months ago, and Chay said he loved Kim.

Every time they’ve seen each other since Kim left him crying outside of his apartment, Chay has barricaded himself behind a wall of cold words and icy stares.

But now he wonders if, on the balcony, Kim actually wanted to talk to him, wanted to let his own barriers down, but didn’t quite know how. And he didn’t get the chance to figure it out before Porsche arrived.

Chay only realises that he hasn’t responded and is still gripping Kim like a lifeline when Kim says his name again, his question hanging in the air. Sort of like Chay’s heart.

Kim’s hands come up to brush Chay’s arms, a ghost of a touch, gliding upwards until he finds the dip of muscle just below Chay’s shoulders.

He keeps his hands there, pressure light but solid, and Kim can’t possibly know it, but to Chay, it feels like he’s holding him together. For a moment, he lets himself imagine leaning into Kim’s touch, letting himself be swept into Kim’s safe embrace.

And then, he steps back and lets go.

“Sorry,” Chay mutters, as the warmth of Kim drops away from his fingertips, like the sun drifting behind a cloud. “I’m fine, I just…”

“You don’t like storms.”

Chay’s head jerks up to where he imagines Kim’s face is in the darkness.

“How did you…know?”

“Lucky guess,” Kim says, and there’s humour in his voice that Chay should find offensive. He wants to find it annoying. But instead he just huffs out a breath.

“Yeah,” Chay says, quietly stubborn, “I don’t like them.”

He goes to cross his arms and realises Kim’s hands are still holding his biceps, the heat of them permeating his skin. His heart leaps over its next beat.

A flicker of lightning illuminates them both for a few seconds and Chay sees the strangely earnest expression on Kim’s face, his eyebrows rising upwards, even as he feels his own body go rigid, bracing for the thunder.

When it comes, he inhales a sharp, involuntary breath and he feels Kim’s hands tighten on him in response.

“Chay, do you…”

Kim trails off, as if stopping himself from finishing the sentence and suddenly Chay can’t do this anymore.

If Kim still won’t find it within himself to give Chay honest words, if he’s still filtering everything he says, then Chay doesn’t want to share his own moment of vulnerability with Kim.

He steps backwards, out of the safe circle of Kim’s arms, the cold rushing into the space where Kim’s palms had been. It feels like letting go.

Maybe I’m finally ready, he thinks, even as his heart rises up in protest.

He’s been clinging to the idea that Kim might apologise to him for so long that it’s become a barely recognisable dream, nestled behind his ribs.

But, like stars, all dreams eventually come true and shine, or they dim and go out.

Chay has realised that, yes, Kim will beat up a group of assailants for him. He’ll take their lives ruthlessly because they threatened his safety. But he won’t fight for Chay in the way that matters. Not in the way he needs.

So, he half turns away from Kim, even as another clap of thunder makes the hairs on his arms stand on end.

“It’s fine, P’Kim,” he says, fighting to keep his pitch even. “I’ll just put on some candles. I can use my phone’s flashlight if I need it.”

He begins to take another step away from Kim when he feels something catch his wrist.

Even in the dark, he’d know Kim’s touch anywhere.

It sends warm sparks skittering up his arm that have nothing to do with the electricity outside. They sink into his skin and heat up his bloodstream, a small legion of fireflies turning his cells to stardust.

He turns partially back towards Kim right as the tower’s emergency generator kicks in and soft gold light glows to life in the hallway, haloing Kim from behind.

Kim’s arm is outstretched and he’s leaning slightly forward. Chay feels like he’s been catapulted back into the past, but their positions are reversed. Instead of him being the one trying to stop Kim from leaving, Kim’s the one stopping Chay from letting go.

There’s an expression on Kim’s face that Chay’s never seen before and he doesn’t quite know how to describe. Kim is looking at Chay like Chay holds the cornerstone to his existence and without it, he’ll blow apart into helixes of dark matter.

For a moment, they just gaze at each other.

Then Kim says quietly, “I was going to ask, do you want some company?”

Chay stares at him dumbfounded before he remembers that the question isn’t rhetorical.

“From you?”

Chay realises his mistake when Kim’s expression, which had been opening like a flower beginning to bloom, shutters.

“You’re right,” Kim says, “that would be…”

He’s back to not finishing his sentences and Chay can feel him start to loosen his grip on Chay’s wrist.

Three consecutive flashes of lightning invade their surroundings and Chay snatches at Kim’s fingers before he can let go.

Screw it, he thinks.

“Good,” he says. “That would be good, actually.”

Chapter Text

Kim looks at Chay uncertainly as though he’s sure he misheard what Chay said.

“I’m still mad at you,” Chay clarifies, injecting some ire into his tone, “but…I really don’t like being alone in thunderstorms.”

Kim nods, understanding dawning across his face.

“Whatever you need,” he says, tone mild and sincere.

Before he can second-guess himself, Chay pulls lightly on Kim’s fingers where they’re threaded through his own and draws him into the room.

Kim shuts the door behind him and they’re suddenly in wreathed darkness again. Chay feels his breathing become harsher as more thunder echoes overhead. Kim’s thumb rubs a small circle on the back of his hand, rings of Saturn erupting to life on his skin.

That’s nice, a traitorous part of Chay’s brain thinks.

It dawns on Chay rather abruptly, that this is the first time he’s been completely alone with P’Kim in over three months.

His brother isn’t in the next room. There are no bodyguards around. It’s just the two of them. The weight of that knowledge falls heavily around his shoulders, a shining cloak of potential.

“What do you need?” Kim asks, reiterating his statement from earlier into a question.

“I–” More lightning flashes through the room and Chay’s spine goes taut. He feels so exposed, standing here in the middle of all this open space.

“Candles,” he manages to grit out, and he hears Kim hum in assent.

A light suddenly comes on and Kim is holding his phone up, casting the flashlight around to look for the objects in question.

He spots them over on Chay’s desk and lets go of Chay’s hand to walk over and light them. Despite his readiness to shut P’Kim out before, Chay has to stop himself from reaching to grab for Kim’s arm as he moves away.

The small tea lights come on one by one, casting Kim in a willowy gold glow. Kim picks up a few of them and places them at intervals around the room so that the dark corners recede and Chay is lit up in a protective circle of light.

Chay’s misgivings about letting Kim into his room to ebb away with the darkness. Kim is…really trying to help him?

He didn’t have to come here at all, he could have just carried on with whatever he was doing when the storm started. But he purposefully sought Chay out instead.

Kim finishes setting down the candles and comes back to him, stepping into Chay’s space like Chay is a prince and Kim is his knight, ready to kneel and pledge allegiance.

“What else?” Kim asks quietly.

“I– I usually try and listen to music…to drown out the thunder,” Chay admits, looking down. It seems silly when he says it out loud. How is music ever going to win out against the roar of nature?

But Kim nods and Chay catches the movement out of the corner of his eye, looking back up as Kim steps away again. Chay wants to ask where he’s going, but the answer comes when Kim stops by his guitar case. It leans against his desk where he left it earlier.

“Can I?” Kim asks, his outline feathered in the soft light of the flickering candles near him.

Chay nods and moves to sit on the edge of his bed as Kim unzips his case and takes the guitar out. He does it so carefully that Chay feels fondness peek out from behind his heart.

As Kim sits down in his desk chair and plays a few chords, he looks up at Chay again, as if checking that this is still okay, before looking back down to the guitar when Chay tilts his head in acknowledgement.

Over the last few months, Chay has surrounded himself in a dark, stone castle of anger and hurt, but one look from Kim and his walls begin to crack and crumble.

A sudden thought strikes Chay as Kim continues to pluck idle notes and he holds his breath. If Kim plays the song he sent to Chay after their fight, he’ll be buried alive.

That song has too much of both their hearts in it for this moment, and Chay honestly doesn’t know what he’ll say to Kim if he sings it now.

Thankfully, Kim doesn’t play it. He strums another lyrical tune that Chay doesn’t recognise, but he’s drawn to nonetheless.

Kim sings softly alongside the guitar melody and, wow, Chay had forgotten how effortlessly beautiful his voice is.

Chay tries to look anywhere but at the other man, grasping desperately at the fraying threads of his anger, trying to knit them back together into a barricade.

But Kim looks ethereal in the glowing light, as though he’s stored the sun’s rays in his chest and they’re cascading out of him with the music. It’s hard to stay angry at him when he’s doing this for Chay. Really hard.

A boom of thunder interrupts Chay’s thoughts and he whips around towards the window behind him.

Big mistake.

Lightning illuminates the entire outline of the window, looking like an eerie blue-white toxin that’s trying to creep into the room.

Chay gasps, bolting up off his bed, heart pounding. The thunder comes a second time, even louder, as though punishing him for forgetting about it.

Chay can feel his body start to shake again. He retreats several steps backwards, breathing fast. His back hits something solid and he startles, turning to find Kim right behind him.

He’s walked into Kim’s chest.

Chay would usually feel embarrassed, but his fear of the storm is overpowering all his other feelings, driving them out like wind driving leaves from trees.

Kim must have put the guitar down because his arms come around to encircle Chay, but stop before his hands can make contact with Chay’s skin. He’s still tentative about touching Chay, as though he doesn’t think he deserves to.

He doesn’t, Chay’s mind supplies, even as he turns around and sways towards Kim, his body offering truths that his mind won’t.

For a moment, they’re like two sunflowers, bending towards each other instead of the sun.

Chay feels intoxicated by Kim’s closeness. He’s so warm and smells of fresh cotton and something spiced, like cinnamon.

Chay’s mind chooses that exact moment to conjure up memories of how firm Kim’s chest was when he lay against it on his sofa bed and how good it felt to have Kim’s arm around his shoulders, pulling him close.

It would feel good now, too.

Chay can feel himself leaning closer until Kim’s breath floats over his cheek, an oxygenated caress.

He stops himself at the last second from sinking into the mafia heir and looks up. Kim’s eyes are black, molten gold shimmering in their depths from the candle light.

His arms are still hovering around Chay, a shield between him and the storm.

“Can I?” He asks, as though he needs permission to hold Chay now that they’re in the light, and not the darkness of the corridor.

Chay should say no. He should step back.

But…maybe this is how they fix things? Maybe this is how they start talking again?

So, with an exhale that’s both a sigh and a prayer, Chay gives in.

He falls into Kim’s embrace, letting out a tiny sob that holds all the explosive power of his anguish from the last few months. Kim immediately wraps his arms around Chay and holds him tight.

Chay can feel himself relax into Kim. Despite everything that’s happened between them, he feels safe in Kim’s arms and there’s something so comforting about being held. Perhaps it’s knowing that someone else cares about you enough to want to offer you solace.

Before today, Chay would have said Kim didn’t care about him at all. But now, as he breathes in Kim’s cinnamon scent, head resting on his shoulder, he’s not so sure.

Kim doesn’t seem like someone who’ll suffer through things he doesn’t want to do. Which means…he’s here because he wants to be.

And with that thought, Chay starts crying. He’s not sure if it’s because of the storm or because of the history between them, but either way his tears are a summer shower bursting free of pale clouds.

An hour ago, the idea of telling Kim about his fear of storms and crying in front of him was more undesirable than a broken guitar string. But something has changed tonight, a stone cracking open to reveal an opaline centre.

Night has turned to day; winter to spring. The frost-covered cage around Chay’s heart has started to melt, setting him free.

Chay slowly lifts his arms and presses them against Kim’s back, hugging him in return. He feels Kim inhale in surprise, his shoulder blades rising under Chay’s touch. Neither of them says anything, though, content to just hold each other.

After a few minutes, Chay’s tears dry up and he pulls back to look at Kim. Kim lets him go with something like reluctance.

“Why did you come here to check on me, P’Kim?” Chay asks, tone steady.

What’s the real reason?

He wonders if Kim can hear the second, unspoken part of his words, as they clarify in his mind. Wonders if Kim knows he’s thinking about his ulterior motives.

Kim breaks their gaze to look away for a moment, as though the intensity he sees in Chay’s eyes burns him.

“I know you have no reason to trust what I say,” he begins, eyes drifting back to Chay, the way lovers drift together in a crowded ballroom. “But, I did come here to check on you and to make sure you were alright. It’s a bad storm and…”

Vulnerability is a long-forgotten coat that Kim is trying on, testing to see if it still fits him. Chay wants to straighten his lapels and tell him it’s a good look.

“...I was worried about you.”

Chay’s eyebrows shoot up at that.

“You were?” Can Kim hear the naked hope in his voice as plainly as he can?

Kim just nods, expression sitting somewhere between neutral and earnest.

“Well, I’m doing great,” Chay jokes, trying to inject some levity into their conversation.

Kim gives him a small, fond smile, eyes softening. Chay thinks he’d do anything for that smile. Including bare his heart.

“P’Kim, I–”

The words missed you get lodged in his throat as the loudest noise he’s ever heard booms through the tower.

Chay lets out a terrified sound, grabbing for Kim again. This time Kim doesn’t hesitate. He pulls Chay right to him, whispering “it’s alright, it’s alright”, into Chay’s hair.

“What was that?” Chay asks, panicked. He realises both of his hands are fisted in Kim’s t-shirt and he’s pressing their bodies together desperately, but he can’t let go.

That sound went through his chest like an arrow and he feels under attack.

“If I had to guess, I’d say lightning just struck one of the surrounding buildings,” Kim says, rubbing Chay’s back soothingly. “It probably hit something metal, that’s normally the kind of sound that collision makes.”

“How are you so calm about this?” Chay demands, shivering. “What if there were people in the building that was hit?”

“Well,” Kim says gently, “lightning doesn’t tend to conduct through buildings. They’re designed and insulated in a way that should prevent that. The worst thing that usually happens is the electrical systems might blow. But anyone inside should be fine.”

“Oh,” Chay says, feeling marginally better.

“And to answer your other question…I grew up here. I’ve seen my fair share of storms over the years so I’m used to the loud noises. Thunder and lightning don’t bother me.”

Chay lifts his head and stares at Kim for a long moment. That’s the most information Kim has probably ever voluntarily revealed about himself without Chay probing him.

He’s actually trying?

“What is it?” Kim asks, when Chay continues to look at him, but doesn’t say anything.

“Oh– nothing,” Chay says quickly. “I just…I like it when you’re honest with me.”

Chay keeps his eyes on Kim’s – brown and amber against black and gold – determined to show the other man how much he means it.

Right when their shared gaze sharpens into something more charged, thunder ricochets overhead, making Chay hiss.

“What else do you normally do when a storm hits?” Kim asks quickly.

“I usually…get into bed,” he says, feeling a little self-conscious at how childlike it sounds. “Lying under the covers makes me feel safer,” he tries to explain, but Kim is nodding like he already understands.

“Do you want to?” Kim asks, glancing behind Chay to the bed. “I can sit at your desk and keep playing while you do.”

Chay must be looking at Kim like he’s grown wings because Kim huffs out a small laugh. It’s a brief, sparkle of a sound that turns the air around them to gold dust and Chay immediately wants to hear it again.

The last vestiges of anger Chay has been holding in a shimmering force field drop and dissipate, like grains of sand falling through cracks in the floor.

He steps backwards so that Kim’s arms drop away from his back, but before they can fall to his sides, Chay catches one of Kim’s hands in his own.

He doesn’t know if it’s nervous energy making him bold, or the strange anticipatory ambience of the candle-lit room, but he feels like the boy he was six months ago again – the boy who was bold enough to ask P’Wik to tutor him.

“Will you…get in with me?” Chay murmurs, blushing slightly.

Kim is already standing still but he seems to go even stiller if possible, as though Chay’s words have suspended him in time.

Chay wonders if he’ll have to find the right words to reanimate the singer, but then Kim grips his hand tighter and nods.

His expression barely changes, but somehow Chay knows that this is a different Kim to the one who deceived him several months ago. He looks the same outwardly, but inwardly, he’s not. His words, his touches, they all feel different.

Chay pulls Kim towards him through their linked hands and Kim comes, like a tide drawn to the shore. He doesn’t question Chay’s actions, he simply follows him into the bed, and under the covers.

Chay fluffs up the pillows so that they won’t be lying flat and then they both recline, shoulders brushing like the edge of two worlds.

They don’t let go of each other’s hands.

Chay maneuvers the quilt so that it covers half of his and Kim’s chests, then grips the soft material with his free hand in an attempt to quell his racing heart.

He glances over to Kim out of the corner of his eye only to find Kim already gazing at him, head tilted towards Chay like there’s nothing else he’d rather be looking at.

There’s a soft, curious expression on his face and Chay’s about to ask him what he’s thinking when the whole room lights up with an angry white glow from the window.

Thunder roars overhead and Chay can’t hold back his whimper as he squeezes his eyes shut. He breathes quickly through his nose as though he can inhale tranquility and exhale the panic and tension gripping him.

As the thunder continues to echo, Kim lets go of his hand.

Then, warm arms are wrapping around him again. He opens his eyes as Kim draws him into his chest, holding him close and resting his chin on top of Chay’s head.

One of Kim’s hand lifts to caress the downy hair at the nape of Chay’s neck and Chay realises that his back is to the window. Kim has purposefully turned Chay so that he’s facing him and won’t be able to see the storm clearly.

“It’s okay,” Kim says softly. “You’re safe. Nothing’s going to happen to you here.”

And Chay feels it. Safe. Protected.

His arms are tucked into his body but he gradually lets them unfurl so that his hands are pressed lightly against Kim’s chest. He can feel the steady beat of Kim’s heart under his right palm and it makes his own heart ache to match that rhythm.

Perhaps if they beat in time with each other, they’ll begin to understand each other again.

“Sorry,” Chay whispers, voice a little shaky. “It’s so…silly.”

Kim’s grip on him tightens imperceptibly. “It’s not,” he says and his tone is decisive. If Chay tries to argue, he has a feeling Kim won’t accept it.

“We all have fears, Chay,” Kim continues. “Just because some are more likely to affect our day-to-day lives than others, doesn’t make them any less real or significant.”

“That’s fine for you to say, you’re not afraid of storms,” Chay grumbles, but with every passing moment, he can feel himself melting into Kim. Their knees bump together and their feet overlap, Kim’s socks brushing against Chay’s toes.

“No,” Kim agrees, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t have fears too.”

Chay doesn’t want to pry, but before he can stop himself, the words are out of his mouth.

“Like what?”

He expects Kim to pull away from him, then, emotionally and physically, withdrawing from their silk-thread truce. But Kim stays where he is, keeping Chay afloat.

There’s a long pause and he counts the beats of Kim’s heart, unerring in its regularity. Thunder rolls overhead again but Chay doesn’t jump or tense like he did before. He feels almost…calm.

As the sound subsides, Kim says quietly, “I fear letting people in”.

Oh. That tracks, Chay thinks without malice. It goes some way towards accounting for why Kim pushed Chay away after he confessed his feelings.

But Chay doesn’t say any of that out loud. Instead, he holds his breath, and holds his hands over Kim’s heart, waiting to see if Kim will speak the truth from its beating depths.

After another moment of quiet, Kim adds, “When you’ve grown up in a family like this, you learn not to trust anyone. Everyone could be a potential enemy. Anyone could sell your secrets to a rival group or family.”

Kim has started absently running his fingers through the top of Chay’s hair while he talks. The feeling goes straight to Chay’s spine, unwinding down his vertebrae.

He nods in understanding and Kim must feel the movement against his hand and neck because he continues speaking.

“That’s why…I used you to find out information about your brother. Our father has never allowed anyone into the ranks of bodyguards with no formal training and no ties to the family before. It seemed out of character and I wanted to know why. I wanted to know what was different about Porsche.”

Somehow, Chay’s breath winds up tighter in his chest, like a bow being drawn back before an arrow is loosed.

“I thought that if I could find out what was going on, I could stay two steps ahead and prevent something bad from happening.” Kim sighs. “But it happened anyway.”

Chay exhales. He really thought Kim might apologise just now. But he’s beginning to think that’s not Kim’s style.

The sorry he got from Kim when he confronted him outside of his apartment might be the only sorry he’ll ever get.

“P’Kim,” Chay says slowly, “what happened with the minor family wasn’t your fault. They chose to attack P’Kinn and everyone else here. You couldn’t have prevented that.”

“I should have,” Kim says, frustration rising up through his tone. “Otherwise it wasn’t worth it.”

“What wasn’t?” Chay asks, pulling back slightly to look up at Kim.

“Losing you.” Kim says the last word so quietly that Chay can almost mistake his tone for reverence, and his breath catches in his throat.

He nudges himself further up the bed so that he’s eye-level with Kim, their shared gaze a dark star pulling in light. Kim’s hand falls from his hair to the back of his neck and Chay fails to hold in his shiver.

“Porchay…you made me feel something I haven’t felt in a long time,” Kim says softly, still looking at him, “and I’ve regretted not telling you who I really was every day since that afternoon outside my apartment. I shouldn’t have used you in the way I did. It was…callous. I hope with time, you can understand why I did it, even if you can’t forgive me.”

“P’Kim,” Chay whispers, eyes wide. There’s something vulnerable in Kim’s face, like he just showed Chay a small, shining fragment of his heart and is waiting for Chay to pass judgement.

“I think,” Chay says in a hushed tone, “with some time, I might be able to forgive you.”

Kim’s eyebrows lift, as though he hadn’t been expecting that.

“Even if…I don’t deserve it?” He asks curiously.

“Even then,” Chay whispers. “Because…you might not believe it, but I think you probably do. Deserve it.”

The shimmering gold light in Kim’s irises seems to ripple, like the moon crossing the surface of a lake. Chay finds himself leaning closer to Kim, and he notices the way Kim’s eyes immediately drop to his lips.

Kim glances back up quickly, as though he’s been caught doing something forbidden, and Chay’s heart speeds up until it’s dancing in his chest with the rhythm of a thousand drums.

Only his hands, still resting against Kim’s sternum, tell him that Kim’s heart rate has also increased.

“P’Kim,” Chay whispers again, and the word tastes like a raindrop of hope on his tongue. Iridescent. Fateful.

Kim’s arms tighten around him in response, as though he doesn’t ever want to let Chay go. Unintentionally, or perhaps not, the movement draws Chay closer.

Chay inhales a shaky breath and leans in, reducing the distance between them until they’re mere inches apart. Kim leans in too.

Then the lights come back on.

They both jolt away from each other, as if expecting Porsche or Kinn to appear and question them about what they were doing. But no-one else is here.

The spell, however, is broken. Distance invades the space between them once more and Chay feels like someone has stripped the top layer of warmth from his skin.

“The power must have come back on,” Kim says, turning to survey the rest of the room. His hands come away from Chay’s back and it’s another blow to the closeness they’d been building.

“Yeah,” Chay murmurs, resisting the urge to curl his fists around Kim’s t-shirt and stop him from leaving.

He waits, then, for Kim to sit up and slide out of the bed. He’ll walk away from Chay, just like he has every other time, leaving him alone.

And Kim does. He slips out of their sphere of warmth like a shadow.

Something caves in Chay’s chest and he has to stifle a whimper.

Don’t let him see you cry again. Don’t.

Looking down at the part of the bed Kim just vacated, Chay expects to hear the door click open and closed. But instead the lights go off.

He startles slightly, looking over to see Kim standing with his fingers on the switch, candlelight framing him once more.

“Is that better? Or would you prefer them on?”

“You’re not…leaving?” Chay asks, registering the sniffle in his voice and hoping that Kim doesn’t hear it.

“Not unless you want me to?” Kim’s voice is so gentle that Chay knows he did hear it.

He sighs and shakes his head quickly. “Stay, please.” He looks down as he says the last word, suddenly feeling embarrassed.

Kim has seen him at his most vulnerable tonight and now Chay’s begging him to stay. He must think Chay is weak. He must–

Chay’s thoughts are interrupted as the blanket lifts and Kim slides back in again, his warmth returning to settle over Chay.

Kim’s arms come around Chay’s back as he embraces him a second time and Chay sniffs slightly, trying to blink away the tears that are rapidly forming in his eyes.

He didn’t leave.

The singer shuffles so that he’s close to Chay again. Not quite as close as they were before, but comfortably entwined.

Back in the candle-swept darkness, Kim looks soft and beautiful and suddenly Chay aches for absolutely everything.

Everything they lost after he found out the truth. Everything they might be able to have, if they can make their way back to those halcyon, sun-lit moments. Everything Kim has done tonight and they way he’s treating Chay like he’s…precious.

Chay bows his head so that Kim can’t see the tears starting to spill down his cheeks. His body is a ravine and every drop of water is a new fissure opening up.

“Chay…” Kim says and he sounds so forlorn that, without thinking, Chay glances up.

Kim looks stricken and immediately lifts one hand to brush a tear away from Chay’s cheek with his thumb. Something in that movement and the subtle touch of Kim’s fingertips undoes Chay completely.

He tilts his head forward so that he’s resting against Kim’s collarbone, and cries openly. His sobs are muffled against Kim and the duvet, and his shoulders shake in a way that has nothing to do with the continuing storm.

If Kim asks him what he’s crying about, he’s not sure he’ll be able to explain. How do you tell someone that you’re crying for all the moments you lost, and the ones you might never have?

But Kim seems to know not to ask; he just holds Chay steadily and rubs his back. They lie like that, curled against each other for a while until Chay’s sniffles taper off.

He starts to feel drowsy in the circle of Kim’s arms and his head droops forward against the space under Kim’s clavicle.

“Chay?” Kim asks and Chay thinks he might murmur tired, or something similar, into Kim’s t-shirt.

He wants to fight sleep, but he feels physically and emotionally exhausted from trying to stay calm for the past few hours.

He knows he should probably feel weird about falling asleep with Kim in his bed when he’s been ignoring him for weeks, but it feels…fine.

It feels better than fine, actually, it feels natural. They’ve done it once before, after all. But this time, there are no secrets hidden in the small spaces between them as Chay begins to drift.

He feels Kim gently move him further up the bed so that his head settles in the middle of the pillow. He’s halfway to unconsciousness when the thought crosses his mind that Kim might leave him now. It’s the ideal time, really, to slip out while Chay is sleeping.

With the last of his wakefulness, Chay manages to lift his hand and place it over Kim’s arm, where it’s still wrapped round him.

“Stay,” he mumbles, eyes closed.

He thinks he might hear Kim murmur, “Okay,” but everything is fading out as he doses off.

He doesn’t feel Kim press a feather-light kiss to his forehead, or hear him say wistfully, “I’m sorry for everything, Chay.”

He also doesn’t see Kim look down at him with a crestfallen expression, adding, “You deserve better. No matter how I feel.”

Chay wakes up gradually in the morning, sleep ebbing off him like snow slowly thawing in the heat. The storm is gone and his heart feels calmer.

As he drowsily blinks his eyes open, he notices that the sun has replaced the thunder and lightning, drifting in through the gap around his curtains, gently waving hello. He smiles slightly and shuts his eyes again, rolling over and reaching for Kim.

His hands catch empty air and his eyes fly open. The space in front of him is vacant, duvet and sheets cold where his fingers glide over them.

Kim is gone.

Chay sits up quickly and looks around the room, hoping that Kim will be standing by his bookshelves or sitting at his desk.

He’s not.

The emptiness of the room seems to expand around Chay, making him feel smaller and more alone in the open space than ever before.

This is what people mean, he thinks, when they talk about their heart sinking. He can physically feel his falling through his chest and into the pit of his stomach.

He’s pretty sure, in his sleep-addled state, that he asked Kim to stay. And he left anyway.

Chay’s eyes well up and he blinks angrily.

Do not cry over him again, he’s had too many of your tears, he thinks, trying to channel his sadness into annoyance.

But the ache in his throat builds into a burn and he has to swallow to try and push it down. It doesn’t work, and the realisation that the covers next to him are rumpled, as though Kim left in a hurry, sends a fresh tear racing down his cheek.

I really thought he might stay this time.

He grabs the quilt and presses it furiously into his face letting out a muffled, ugh. As if mocking him, the covers smell like Kim.

Chay lets out a groan of frustration right as the door clicks open.

He jerks his head up to see Kim standing there, holding two bottles of fruit juice, a quizzical look on his face.

“P’Kim!” Chay says in surprise, feeling his expression widen in astonishment. “I thought you’d…”

He doesn’t make it to the word left. He can see Kim’s expression turn slightly pained and knows that Kim can tell what he was thinking.

Kim walks over to the bed and sits down on the edge, still holding the bottles in each hand. His body is turned towards Chay, a ship to a lighthouse beam in the dark ocean.

“I thought you might be thirsty when you woke up…so I went to get you a drink.”

Chay stares at Kim unblinkingly for a second. He just went to get drinks. That’s all.

Chay could laugh with relief and a small modicum of delight. Kim must be able to see the lingering redness around Chay’s eyes because his eyebrows tilt upwards.

“Chay…are you okay?”

Chay nods, doing his best not to sniff. “Yeah, it’s nothing.”

Kim’s brow furrows and Chay is distracted momentarily by the fact that even frowning, Kim is beautiful. There’s probably no expression he could produce that would make him look anything less than perfect.

Kim interrupts his thoughts, voice low and sincere. “If it’s bothering you, it’s not nothing.” He pauses and then his face breaks open with understanding. “I’m sorry. I should have realised that– that you’d think I’d left you…like last time. I won’t do that again.”

Kim looks genuinely annoyed with himself and Chay can only stare in shock. He apologised. Maybe Chay’s assessment from last night was all wrong.

He realises he’s still staring when Kim says his name, a hollow note in the centre of the syllable, like he thinks he’s lost Chay.

Chay snaps back into the room. “It’s– it’s okay. I just wasn’t expecting you to be gone and it…threw me for a moment.” Feeling emboldened by his earlier agitation, he raises an eyebrow and adds, “I also wasn’t expecting you to apologise.”

Kim looks contrite at that. His gaze drops down to the waves of quilt between them, wrapping around Chay’s knees and bundled between his hands.

“I think I owe you an apology for a lot of things,” he says quietly, tension outlining his body as he looks up at Chay from under his lashes.

There’s a sincerity in Kim’s eyes that makes a welcome spark of hope surge to life in Chay’s stomach; a precursor to butterflies. Perhaps they really will have the conversations they need to to clear the air between them.

“You do,” Chay agrees, “but one thing at a time.”

Kim visibly relaxes and Chay feels a weight lift off them both. He’s not giving Kim a free pass; he still expects an apology for the deception and judging by Kim’s expression, he knows it. But Chay thinks they should solidify the ground they’re standing on before they add more stones to the path.

He nods to the drinks in Kim’s hands. “You brought two?”

Kim looks down at the bottles, one pink, one green, and then back up to Chay. “I didn’t know which flavour you preferred, so I brought both.”

Chay follows Kim’s gaze to the bottles and his eyes widen. Kim is holding the pomegranate and white chrysanthemum Puriku fruit teas. Chay’s favourites.

How does he know that?

Chay’s positive Kim has never seen him drinking these. Unless…he must have seen them when he came to Porsche and Chay’s house that day when he ended up staying over. Chay had been indulging in a couple of bottles while studying and he’d left at least two in the bin under his desk.

Kim remembered that detail from all those months ago? And went to get them specifically for Chay?

A warm feeling suffuses Chay’s chest and he lets a small smile curve his lips as he meets Kim’s eyes again. “You remembered?”

Kim looks mildly uncomfortable for a moment, like he’s not used to people commenting on how observant he is, then he seems to shrug it off and nods, expression neutral.

“You seemed to like them, so I brought them for you. You can have both,” Kim says with a shrug.

“Don’t you want one?”

“They’re for you, not me.”

Chay gives him a look that says stop being difficult.

“Which flavour would you like? I’ll have the other one.” When Kim opens his mouth to protest, Chay cuts him off. “I like both, so it’s easier if you pick. Please?” He throws a slightly pleading tone into the last word and Kim relents instantly.

“The chrysanthemum one.”

Chay smiles again and takes the pomegranate one from Kim’s proffered hand. Their fingers brush and Chay doesn’t think he imagines the spark that bounces between them.

He opens the cap and takes a long sip of the tea, registering how thirsty he is. He hums in satisfaction and then keeps drinking until a third of the bottle is gone.

Kim watches him for a moment, the smallest of smiles gentling his expression, before he, too, opens his bottle and tastes it.

He grimaces instantly and then tries to hide it. A light snort of amusement bursts from Chay before he can stop it and he doesn’t miss the way Kim seems to gravitate towards the sound.

“Not a fan?” Chay asks playfully.

“I think I’ll stick to coffee,” Kim says, offering him the other bottle. Chay takes it and absolutely does not think about how this is an indirect kiss between him and Kim as he drinks. Not thinking about that. At all.

When he’s quenched his thirst, he regards Kim curiously.

“Did you go out to get these?”

Kim shakes his head. “They’re stocked in the kitchen fridges.”

Chay stares at him, dumbfounded.

“What?” Kim asks, bemused.

“They have Puriku in the kitchens?” Chay asks incredulously.

When Kim nods like it’s obvious, Chay almost throws his hands in the air. “You’re telling me I’ve been going out to buy them this whole time when I could have just been going downstairs?”

Kim opens his mouth to say something and then closes it, nodding again with a slightly pitying look on his face.

“I don’t believe this,” Chay says, mock-annoyed, “what’s the point of having access to fancy facilities and my favourite food and drinks if I don’t even know they’re even there? Is there anything else I should know about?!”

“You do know there’s a climbing wall in the underground floors, right? For training.”

“There’s a climbing wall?”

The small laugh Kim lets out is such an enchanting sound that it leaves Chay awestruck for a moment. That’s twice he’s made Kim laugh in less than twelve hours. He feels incredible.

Then he realises why Kim is laughing.

“Oh very funny,” Chay grumbles sarcastically, but inside he feels lighter than a goldfinch’s wings. Kim is laughing and joking with him. This is exactly what he’d hoped for.

Kim breaks him out of his thoughts by saying, “There is a roof terrace though.”

“Well, now I don’t believe you,” Chay says, pretending to be huffed.

Kim just gives him that small, gilded smile that softens his angular cheekbones and lights up his eyes until they’re gleaming.

Suddenly, Chay wants to make Kim grin unreservedly. He wants to hear Kim’s full, unrestrained laugh and see him glow with happiness.

But he reminds himself that they’ve only just started to mend the broken wreckage between them, and they need time to walk before they can run.

He feels oddly hopeful though. The storm may have knocked out the power and damaged buildings, but it’s also broken the wall of unease, anger, and tension between them, leaving clear skies and a calm atmosphere in its wake.

This time yesterday, Kim was the last person Chay wanted to see and now, as the mafia heir gets up from the bed, Chay doesn’t want him to go.

“I’ll let you get ready for breakfast,” Kim says, turning to leave.

“P’Kim!” Chay says hurriedly, and Kim looks back without hesitation, as though he’d been hoping Chay would call for him.

“Th– thank you for last night. I really don’t like being alone during storms.”

Chay looks away, feeling abashed as he remembers how much of his fear Kim saw.

“Chay,” Kim says gently and Chay looks up, drawn to the way his own name floats in the air between them.

“You don’t have to apologise. Anytime you need someone to be with you during a storm, let me know.”

It’s not a question, but Chay nods anyway, a little shy at the feeling of being cared for.

As Kim heads for the door, he turns back once last time to look at Chay and Chay is struck by the motion.

Every other time P’Kim left him, he never looked back.

“When you want to see the roof terrace, I’ll show you,” Kim says.

With one last smile, he leaves Chay’s room and shuts the door behind him. This time, instead of feeling a spiralling sense of sadness, optimism settles into Chay’s bones. He hasn’t forgotten everything that’s happened in recent months and they definitely still need to talk about Kim’s actions.

But there’s an undeniable connection between them that no fight, or lies, or storms seem to be able to break. No matter how far they pull apart, they keep coming back together in a celestial collision of emotions and hope.

As Chay climbs out of bed and begins to get ready for the day, he feels buoyed. He’ll let Kim show him the terrace and maybe, standing under the blue skies of Bangkok, they’ll be able to work things out between them. Together.

Chapter Text

Two weeks pass and Chay sees more of Kim in those fourteen days than he has in the last two months.

Kim is in the function rooms when they host a party to celebrate a business deal. He passes Chay in the corridors, going to meetings, and he’s in the gym when Chay is heading to the pool.

He even appears at breakfast, offering Chay a hopeful look before asking if he can sit at Chay’s table. Chay returns the look with a soft smile and nods in agreement.

They eat quietly, not saying a lot, just enjoying the stillness of the morning and the way the bodyguards fail to hide their shock at seeing them together.

Being in each other’s company is different now; it’s better. It turns out that all Chay had to do to crack the lattice of ice between them was confess his fears to Kim, cry on his shoulder (literally), and fall asleep in his arms. No big deal.

Chay has to hide his smile whenever he thinks of their evening together. It sits like a shared secret between them, hiding in the curve of their lips and the glow of their eyes. He wonders if Kim thinks about it as often as he does. Which is to say, every single day.

It’s as though that night together fractured a dam that had been holding them apart, and now hope and tender affection are rushing through, creating something shining and azure that looks suspiciously like devotion.

With each shared look and every near-brush of their fingertips, Kim seems to offer a little more of himself to Chay.

Last week, as promised, he took Chay up to the roof terrace. Chay had let out a breathy wow at seeing the beautiful expanse blue sky overhead and the shining high-rise buildings cresting on the horizon.

On the roof itself were two parallel lines of small, well-kept shrubs and gauzy flowering plants in neat boxes. A couple of benches sat at the end of the open space, along with something that had to be a telescope.

Ideal place for one, Chay supposed.

He’d spun around, trying to take in as much of the vista as possible, before dashing to the edge to see how high up they were.

High, was the answer. The street below seemed to be miles away, cars crawling along like ladybirds.

Every section of the roof was lined with transparent glass panelling and a sleek silver railing, so there was no chance of Chay accidentally falling as he leaned over to take it all in.

“This is amazing,” he’d said, a grin propelling out of him at full force. “You can see half of Bangkok from up here.”

Kim had drifted over and leaned his back against the railing, arms crossed. “I thought you’d like it,” he’d said quietly, and when Chay looked over, Kim had been looking sidelong at Chay, eyes dark and intent.

The rare, soft smile—the one that Chay had seen in his room several weeks ago—appeared in the curve of Kim’s mouth like the moon rising from behind silver clouds. Chay wondered what he could do to keep it there. He settled for telling the truth.

“I really do. I like being up high because you can see so much and,” he paused, laughing a little at his next thought, but deciding to say it anyway, “it makes me feel like I could fly.”

Kim’s smile had grown and Chay had felt all his internal organs fizz and pirouette. Then Kim tilted his head towards the sky, closing his eyes, and Chay’s brain short-circuited entirely.

Seeing Kim in profile, the curve of his neck glowing in the sun, hair fluttering in the breeze, was enough to make Chay feel like a lit match. Kim’s beauty could move worlds on the best of days, and that afternoon on the rooftop it could have levelled an entire galaxy.

Maybe it was the way the sun painted Kim in every possible hue of gold, or the fact that, with his eyes shut and neck bared, Chay had never seen Kim look so vulnerable in a public setting.

Anyone could have walked out onto the roof and seen him with his guard down, relaxing in the open space, but he’d still chosen to stand there anyway, an effigy of gunsmoke and song made human by the midday light.

“This used to be my favourite place to come, back when I lived here,” Kim had said, drawing Chay out of his reverie. The singer had opened his eyes, but remained looking at the sky, gaze lost somewhere up in its atmosphere.

“When training was hard or I wanted a break from being constantly watched, I’d come up here and just look out over the city. Being up high always helped when I needed to think and not many people ever came up here when there were terraces on other floors below. This felt like somewhere I could exist without expectation or judgement.”

“I can see why you like it,” Chay had said, surveying the space again. “It’s peaceful up here.”

When he’d looked back, Kim had been staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t look unhappy or irritated, but he wasn’t smiling anymore.

Chay was getting better at reading those looks, though, and he knew Kim was scrutinising him for a reaction to what he’d said. So Chay caught his gaze, held it purposefully, and murmured, “thank you for sharing this with me.”

There was a solemnity in his words that wouldn’t have been out of place in a quiet temple, and a gratified look flitted across Kim’s features, as though he’d had something confirmed for him.

They continued to look at each other until the resonant tension in the air between them became so charged, it could have powered the city’s electricity grid.

Eventually, the intensity of their connection was too much for Chay and he’d had to look away. To keep looking at Kim was to court the radiance of the stars themselves.

He’d turned so that his back was also against the railing, facing in the same direction as Kim. He scuffed his shoe along the ground, eyes roaming the roof once more and alighting on the telescope.

“Is that yours?” Chay had asked, a playful smile dimpling his cheeks.

Kim had followed his line of sight to the large, ebony object at the far end of the roof.

“No, it’s Tankhun’s. But he doesn’t use it much.”

Somehow, Chay hadn’t been surprised at that. Tankhun did seem like the brother who’d be most interested in other worlds. Kim and Kinn seemed more rooted in home soil.

Tankhun also seemed like the one who bought things on a whim, used them once, then discarded them or moved on. But Chay had seen the eldest Theerapanyakul donating large swathes of clothes, art, and accessories to charity—as well as a human-sized flamingo statue that both unsettled and intrigued him in equal measures— so he couldn’t really criticise too much.

“Then…why isn’t it on his terrace?” Chay had asked curiously. “Wouldn’t he use it more if it were closer to his rooms?”

A knowing look had crossed Kim’s face. “He said the view wasn’t as good on his balcony and that it should stay up here.”

“Oh. I guess…that makes sense,” Chay said, shrugging and nodding. They lapsed into a silence that Kim didn’t seem inclined to break, looking across at the dazzling silver rooftops in the distance.

And as much as Chay was enjoying being in Kim’s presence now that the tension between them had eased, they were never going to fully resolve their issues if they didn’t talk about them.

But…perhaps it was easier for Kim to find the words he sought under the cover of darkness. Everything felt softer and safely hidden under a midnight sky, and Kim did seem like a night owl at times.

So, balancing his words carefully, Chay said, “I’ve never been stargazing before. I’d…like to try it sometime.”

He didn’t meet Kim’s gaze, knowing he’d end up flushing at how obvious he was being. But sometimes, an obvious maneuver was the quickest route to the destination you wanted to get to. And often, it worked.

“I can show you, if you’d like.”

Kim didn’t phrase it as a question and Chay knew he’d been successful in his transparency.

“I– yes, I’d like that.” Chay had almost stumbled over his words when he’d looked askance at Kim and had noticed his small but resplendent smile. That smile had stayed in Chay’s thoughts for the rest of the day.

It’s in his mind now, an imprint of a sunny afternoon, as he returns to the present from his memories of the previous week.

Chay realises he’s been standing outside his bedroom door, staring at it, for at least a few minutes so he quickly inserts his keycard and goes inside before anyone wonders why he’s eyeballing the wood paneling.

Feeling comfortably full from dinner, he sits down at his desk and begins working on an essay that’s due in a couple of weeks. For the first time all day, his thoughts drift away from Kim.

After about twenty minutes, Chay stretches and glances across the room. His eyes land on the spot in his bed where Kim had held him close under the covers, and a secretive smile lights up his face.

He hasn’t seen Kim in a few days, but he knows the mafia heir was out on some sort of assignment. Porsche wouldn’t tell him any other details, no matter how much he pouted, so he eventually gave up and decided to simply ask Kim when he returned.

Inspired by Kim’s evening of revelations, Chay’s been trying to be more truthful with himself. So, he can admit freely that he’s looking forward to seeing Kim again.

He still needs to figure out where they stand, but the long-departed sparks of excitement that used to ride through his bloodstream whenever he saw Kim are back in full force, making him feel caffeinated and glowy every time Kim’s eyes land on him.

He returns to his essay and is almost done with the first section when he hears it. A distant rumble of thunder breaking through quiet, far-off skies.

He freezes in place, grip tightening on his laptop mouse. He didn’t see any flashes, so maybe the noise was something else. His eyes could be playing tricks on him.

But the sky just loves to call his bluff because right as he thinks this, a flash lights up his window.

Not again.

Chay’s standing before he even registers that he’s moved. He crosses the room to close his curtains as thunder growls overhead, giving him the distinct sense of deja vu.

This time, though, Kim isn’t here. He won’t be coming to his door and offering candle-lit comfort and soft touches. Chay feels strangely upended at that thought.

Porsche is here, though, he suddenly realises. He’d seen his brother and Kinn returning to the compound earlier, as he’d left the dining hall.

Abruptly, he moves back across the room, grabbing his keycard from the desk and sliding it into his pocket. Another flash of light chases him from the room and the door clicks shut behind him.

If he can’t have Kim, he’ll find Porsche and spend the evening with him until the storm passes. It’s not so late that he and Kinn will be in bed this time.

Chay dashes down the corridor, skidding to a stop outside of the elevators before changing his mind and pushing open the door to the stairwell.

Riding down several floors in a metal box in the middle of an electrical storm? No thanks.

The stairwell is cool and well lit with a plush carpet running down the centre of each stair. Chay realises with a start that there are no windows in here. He can’t see the lighting at all.

He’s questioning why he didn’t just come here during the last storm when the answer comes to him in the form of a fresh ripple of thunder echoing overhead.

The noise travels straight down through the open space of the stairs, reverberating off the walls with the same deafening sound that Chay imagines an avalanche might have.

Okay, that’s why.

He descends the stairs quickly, jumping a little when another volley of thunder rolls past him and down to the bottom of the stairwell. He dives back into the corridor several floors down, closing the door quickly behind him to blot out the sound.

He’s guessing that Porsche and Kinn might be finishing dinner and his instincts are proved correct when he sees them both up ahead, standing at the entrance to the dinning hall with Big and Arm.

Porsche’s back is to Chay so he can’t see his face, but he can see Kinn and Big’s and he knows instantly from their pinched brows and serious expressions that something is wrong.

“Hia,” he calls out, alerting his brother of his impending arrival.

Porsche turns around and his worried expression clears slightly at seeing Chay.

“Chay,” he says, opening his arms immediately for a hug. Chay slips into them, hugging his brother back and feeling the tension he’d been gathering in his shoulders start to loosen.

The fact that Porsche understands exactly what he needs in this moment makes a lump form in Chay’s throat. There’s a difference between being seen and being known, and Porsche knows Chay in a way that only comes from spending years with someone.

He understands what Chay likes and dislikes. He knows his hopes and fears. He sees all his struggles and triumphs.

Hell, Porsche probably even knows his chromosomal makeup. Being both an older brother and something of a surrogate parent will do that to a person.

Chay swallows down the lump in his throat before it can call for reinforcements in the form of tears. He breathes in Porsche’s musky scent and then centres himself, before stepping back to look up at his brother.

“Are you alright?” Porsche asks, before Chay can get a word out, hand still resting supportively on Chay’s shoulder.

“It’s just a thunderstorm,” Chay jokes, nodding in answer to Porsche’s question.

But he can tell from Porsche’s skeptical expression and searching look that he doesn’t buy into Chay’s flimsy attempt at humour.

He changes the subject quickly before Porsche can pry further in front of everyone else.

“What’s going on?”

Porsche and Kinn both glance at each other and there’s something weighted in their shared look that makes Chay add, “what is it?”

He looks to Big and Arm to see if they’ll give him any hints, but their gazes dart away like koi scrambling from ripples in a pond. Both of them look to Kinn and Porsche, so Chay does the same.

“Hia,” he says, and there must be a note of pleading in his voice, because Porsche’s gaze settles on him again. He lets go of Chay’s shoulder and rubs a hand down the back of his neck, looking like he’s summoning fortitude for what he’s about to say.

But it’s Kinn that answers.

“We were just making plans for a potential search party.”

Somehow, Chay knows what he’s going to utter next before he even says it; it’s like seeing a glass fall and knowing it’ll shatter, but not being able to stop it.

“Kim is missing,” Kinn says, concern seeping into his voice.

Chay’s stomach lurches so hard it feels like he’s physically moved. He looks to Porsche for confirmation before looking back at Kinn.

“I thought he was on a job?” Chay asks, grabbing the hem of his sweater just for something to hold onto and scrunch between his hands.

Kinn nods. “He was. Our father sent him out on an errand.” He says the last word like it leaves a bad taste in his mouth and Chay can guess why.

Khun Korn must have sent Kim out to do something…underhand. Something that Kinn doesn’t approve of.

“He checked in yesterday,” Kinn continues, “but he missed today’s check in and we haven’t been able to contact him since. His phone is switched off and his tracking signal has gone dark.”

Chay feels his worry spike. What if Kim is hurt somewhere? What if he’s been abducted?

Porsche interrupts him before he can drive that train of thought right off the edge of a cliff.

“But, his tracker was less than a kilometer away before it disappeared from our radar.”

“You think he’s here?” Chay asks uncertainly.

“We don’t know that,” Kinn warns, and Porsche sighs.

“I know, I know, which is why we should check everywhere within a kilometer radius. But it seems like he was on his way back here. If he had been kidnapped, why would they let him get so close to the compound before taking him? There’s far more of a risk that we would see it happen or stop them.”

“Unless the people kidnapping him were unrelated to the job he was on,” Kinn murmurs, looking pensive.

“You’ve said in the past that Kim sometimes disappears for longer periods than this without checking in,” Porsche muses, “what’s to say he’s not fine? He might have gone back to his old apartment for a break.”

Kinn says something else, but Chay isn’t listening anymore.

A break, Porsche said.

Kim’s words from last week come back to him like the whispered notes of an old song.

When training was hard or I wanted a break from being constantly watched, I’d come up here and just look out over the city.

This felt like somewhere I could exist without expectation or judgement.

Suddenly, Chay knows where Kim is.

As sure as tomorrow’s sunrise, he knows. He takes off running back down the corridor, in the direction he came.

“Chay?” Porsche shouts after him, sounding worried.

“I think I know where he is,” Chay calls back, not slowing down. “If I find him, I’ll let you know!”

“Chay!” Porsche shouts again.

Chay doesn’t know if his brother caught the last part of what he said, but he doesn’t stop to find out as he barrels through the stairwell door.

Kim is the rhythm of his heart and the beat of his footsteps as he runs up the stairs. He’s the oxygen in his blood and the ache in his lungs.

Thoughts of Kim suffuse every part of him. The only thing he wants to do now is find him.

And if his hunch is right, Chay knows where he’ll be.

When he finally makes it to the top of the stairwell, on the twenty-fifth floor, Chay doubles over. His heart is pounding through his temples and acid burns the back of his throat, but he starts running again as soon as his breathing will allow.

The storm feels louder up here, like he’s ascended into its territory.

Chay tries not to think about that too much as he runs through an open area of plush sofas and dining tables.

Kim told him, when they walked through here, that this space is sometimes used as a dining or meeting area, depending on what’s required for the type of guests being entertained.

A floor with a stunning view can impress business partners and investors alike or be a good location for a celebratory, candle-lit dinner.

Chay thinks that he might like to have dinner here with Kim at some point, when there’s no storm, but he’s racing past the thought before it even fully coalesces.

The only thing he can focus on right now is finding Kim, and making sure he’s alright.

There’s a secondary set of stairs to the roof terrace at the end of the seating area. They don’t join up with the main stairwell, which is part of the reason why Chay hadn’t known the terrace even existed until Kim showed him.

He pushes through the glass doors, ignoring their elegant rose-gold trims in a way that he hadn’t last week, and ascends the final set of stairs.

He’s panting from exertion as he reaches the top, but his breathing is drowned out by the sound of thunder.

It’s directly overhead and seems to be circling the tower, a herd of beasts in elemental form.

Chay shudders. Every instinct is screaming at him to turn around and run back down the stairs. His body feels primed to bolt, but with a level of willpower he didn’t know he possessed, he stands firm.

He lifts his hands to the door, only his fingertips touching the cool metal, but he can’t quite make himself open it. It’s like trying to convince yourself to jump out of a plane; every ounce of self-preservation in your body slams you to a stop.

Come on. Kim is out there alone and he might need help. You can do this.

Sometimes, all it takes to leap from a moving aircraft is motivation and a running head start. Chay takes two steps back and then launches himself forward, throwing open the door with both hands.

The wind hits him instantly, almost knocking him back behind the threshold, but he plants his feet and leans into the force.

The rain is so strong that he has to shield his face with one hand to prevent it from needling him. He peers out into the darkness, holding open the door with the other hand as he looks desperately around for Kim. He can already feel the front of his sweater growing damp, hundreds of tiny droplets pounding into the soft material.

Then, lightning cracks open the sky overhead, carving through the air with the promise of destruction. Thunder follows immediately on its heels, roaring through the clouds.

Chay gasps and takes an involuntary step backwards. The storm is directly overhead, and much stronger than he’d anticipated.

Fear shivers to life across his shoulders and down the backs of his arms, setting his heart hammering and making panic rise up through his stomach.

He can’t do this. He can’t–

Another burst of lightning illuminates the dark and that’s when Chay sees him.

Kim.

He is here.

Chay knew. Something inside him, some soul-deep connection that he and Kim share, just knew.

Kim is standing on the right side of the rooftop, leaning into the silver railing like he wants the storm to rip through him, battering his bones until they shatter into sparks of electricity.

He’s soaking wet and his white t-shirt and black trousers cling to him like a second skin as the rain thrashes around him.

His hair is so drenched it looks glossy, pushed back off his face, and it could just be the water, but Chay swears it looks longer than when he last saw Kim a few days ago.

Chay also realises with a jolt that the glass panelling to the left of where Kim is standing is completely smashed. He doesn’t know if Kim is responsible for the wreckage or whether the storm did this, but it leaves Kim precariously exposed to the cyclone.

If he takes two steps to the left, Chay is worried that the strength of the gale will drag him off the roof.

“P’Kim!” Chay yells frantically. His words are immediately carried away into the night by a fresh curtain of wind that billows around him.

A fork of lightning jackknifes through the atmosphere, so close to the tower that Chay lets out a small cry of alarm, eyes flying upwards.

His fears from several weeks ago, about the storm getting inside his room, suddenly seems pale and transparent in the face of this.

The sky is a living, breathing creature, hurling its own brand of wrath at the earth below, and Chay feels caught between two worlds on the roof of this skyscraper.

Another flash ignites his surroundings and he yells for Kim again, looking across to the mafia heir.

With a creeping dread, Chay realises that Kim is holding on to a metal railing. In the middle of an electrical storm.

Oh…no.

“P’Kim!” He shouts a third time, putting his entire chest behind the words.

Kim still doesn’t hear. The singer tilts his head back towards the sky, eyes closed, as though daring the tempest to strike him down.

Chay curses softly to himself.

Why is Kim out here getting soaked and hounded by the wind? Doesn’t he care that he’s in danger?

Chay wants to go to him, to grab his hand and say, come inside, it’s not safe for you, but indecision freezes him in place.

To get to Kim, he has to cross the roof, which means being completely exposed to the storm.

Thunder blooms around him as if to remind him of that fact. If Chay had thought the sound in the stairwell was deafening, this is three or four times louder, like someone plugged an amp into heaven and turned up the volume. Nature will not be ignored here, in its electric palace.

Chay eyes don’t leave Kim’s back as the mafia prince suddenly hunches over the railing. His shoulders are moving like he’s breathing harshly or he’s in pain and Chay feels his heart seize.

Kim is hurting. Whether physically or emotionally, Chay isn’t sure, but it’s clear he’s not alright.

And that’s when Chay knows.

If it’s a choice between going to Kim and going back inside, there is no choice.

It’s Kim. He’ll always choose Kim. His song and Kim’s are the same and he wants a chance for them to sing together.

No matter what’s come before, he doesn’t want to see Kim suffering. With a strange, uncurling sense of freedom, Chay registers that he’ll do almost anything for this man, and that includes facing his fears.

He lets out a long inhale that feels like turning the first page of a book, and steps out onto the roof.

Chapter Text

Chay’s heart is beating wildly in his chest, thoughts whirling faster than a weather vane.

He’s shaking, but he makes himself take another step, letting go of the door, which slams shut immediately behind him.

The wind hits him at full force then, making him stumble, but he doesn’t fall. This is a battlefield and he can’t afford to show weakness.

You can do this. Every step is a step closer to Kim.

Two more steps and lightning shreds the sky overhead, so close that Chay can feel the air pressure change above him.

“P’Kim!” He shouts, voice sounding raw and frightened even to his own ears as he forces himself to take another halting step. He knows Kim hears him because the other man’s spine straightens and his shoulders go rigid.

“P’Kim, please, it’s not safe out here. Come inside!”

Slowly, Kim turns toward Chay and he looks otherworldly for a moment, caught somewhere between spirit and reaper, with his blank, luminous eyes and strands of black hair flying around his face.

Then he seems to register Chay’s presence fully and comes back to himself. His unseeing expression cracks open into one of anguish and self-loathing.

Chay has never seen such a desolate look on Kim’s face before and it momentarily stuns him. Kim looks…defeated.

“P’Kim,” he says again, but he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. Are you okay feels too small and insignificant for this moment.

Kim looks at Chay like he’s the last bright sundrop of hope on the horizon. And then he turns away, so his back is to Chay once more.

Chay feels like someone just hit him in the sternum and knocked all the air out of his lungs.

“Go back inside, Chay.” Kim doesn’t shout, but somehow his voice carries over the sound of the storm and the lifeless, cold quality in his tone scares Chay.

Then he realises what Kim just said.

“P’Kim…”

Chay thought Kim might be relieved to see him or even shocked that he’s standing out here in the middle of a storm, but instead he’s…telling him to leave?

He’s pushing him away. Just like last time.

Lightning cascades overhead, outlining Chay’s thoughts in stark white brushstrokes.

“P’Kim, please…” Chay tries again, but another clash of thunder stops him from saying more.

“You should go, Chay,” Kim says once the sound has died down. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave.”

Chay can’t help his distressed intake of breath.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asks, sharper than intended. Confusion, hurt, and anger are all mingling inside him, rushing through his blood and straight towards his heart, a noxious venom choking his hope until it blackens and crumbles.

He’d thought they were past this, past Kim creating vast caverns of space between them every time Chay tries to bridge the distance. He thought Kim was done with treating him like an optional extra in his life.

But apparently not.

A storm was all it took to mend their relationship and a storm is all it’ll take to fracture them apart again.

No.

The thought is so forceful in Chay’s mind that he’s not sure if he said it out loud. Kim doesn’t move, so maybe not, but the syllable continues reverberating through Chay, filling the hollow cavities that Kim’s words have created.

He’s not going to let them fall apart, not when Kim’s strong arms were holding him close a few weeks ago, offering the sweet potential of more moments like that in the future.

They were just starting to find their way back to each other, he’s not letting Kim’s fingers slip through his own again. Especially not when Kim needs comfort. Just like Chay did on that soft candle-swept night, not so long ago.

Determination rises in him like a river overflowing its banks, churning itself into adrenaline.

As another bolt of lightning splits the sky, Chay starts running. He heads straight for Kim, his footfalls pounding the wet rooftop, throwing up splashes of water that shimmer in the air, iridescent.

He runs like the world is ending and only Kim can stop it. With the storm still raging overhead, it feels almost true.

When he gets to Kim, he pauses right behind him, not sure if it’s wise to touch someone like Kim without his permission. Kim asked Chay if he could touch him that night in his room, but Chay knows that if he poses the same question now, Kim will say no.

So, he decides to take a risk.

He throws his arms around Kim’s chest and hugs him from behind.

He feels Kim tense under his touch, so Chay keeps his grip loose enough that Kim can pull away if he wants to.

He doesn’t and Chay feels relief flood through him. Gently, he leans his head against the back of Kim’s neck. Kim is an inch or two taller than him, so Chay’s cheek lands on the soft, wet hair curling at Kim’s nape.

He hopes his touch conveys everything he’s thinking. I’m here. I’m with you. I’m not leaving you.

“Chay…” Kim’s voice sounds torn open, as rough and ragged as the edges of burnt logs in a fireplace.

His frame shudders under Chay’s touch and Chay can feel—where his hands brush Kim’s arms—that Kim’s skin is clammy and cold from the rain.

“Chay…you shouldn’t be here…just go.”

“Why do you want me to leave so badly?” Chay asks, raising his voice over the rolling thunder. He doesn’t understand why Kim is acting this way, like he’s discarded or forgotten everything that’s happened between them recently.

“You shouldn’t be near me,” Kim says, voice uncharacteristically unsteady.

“Why?” Chay demands. “What’s changed since last week?”

“I– I hurt people, Chay. I’m a killer.” Kim says it so matter-of-factly that Chay holds him tighter.

“I know that, P’Kim. I know every side of you now and I–”

He can’t say I don’t care because that isn’t true. He does care that Kim has killed people, but the longer he lives in the mafia world, the more he realises that, sometimes, to protect people you care about, you have no choice but to hurt others.

He’s seen Porsche struggle with that first hand as he’s shed the coattails of his old life and risen into his new role, and Chay is starting to realise that being a good person doesn’t necessarily mean only ever doing good things.

Most people are complex and painted in shades of grey, with elaborate moral codes governing their actions. Kim is one of them.

“–I accept them all,” Chay finishes firmly. “You’re still you.”

Kim frees himself from Chay’s grip and turns swiftly to face him. His eyes are wild and turbulent, a darker shade of brown than Chay’s ever seen them.

“The fact that you can say that so easily makes me think you don’t understand the weight of taking someone’s life. The severity of it,” Kim says, studying Chay gravely.

Chay bristles a little at that. “I’ve never killed anyone, no,” even saying the words sounds strange to him, “but I saw those bodies you left at the bar. I know what death looks like.”

A pained expression crosses Kim’s face at the mention of his past actions. “This is why you should stay away from me. I brought you closer to death than you should ever have to be. I don’t want to drag you into the dark, Chay.”

Kim’s eyes go distant and hard. “I’m a monster and you’re so…good. You shouldn’t be involved with me.”

Realisation catches up with Chay right as another clap of thunder bellows around them.

“That’s why you pushed me away, isn’t it?” His voice sounds strangely lit up with recognition and exhilaration. “You were worried I was getting too close to,” he gestures around them, “all of this, and you either didn’t want me to know who you were...or you didn’t want me to end up in danger.”

Kim looks caught off guard, like he wasn’t expecting Chay to connect the dots and then show his findings to Kim so brazenly.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Chay challenges, bright with certainty, the energy of the gale wicking around him.

“You…you’re not,” Kim says, looking down. “I thought I could use you to get information about Porsche and then never see you again. But I didn’t expect to develop…feelings for you.”

Kim looks up at him and his irises momentarily turn a preternatural hazel-blue from the flash of lightning overhead. He looks ethereal and storm-bound.

“You were so earnest, and so unlike anyone in my world. After you were kidnapped and hurt at the warehouse…I knew I couldn’t let you get any closer.”

Chay’s still not used to hearing so much honesty from Kim, but he tries to stop gaping and school his expression into one of understanding.

“Then, Porsche and Kinn got together,” Kim continues, “and you were pulled in anyway.” He sighs as though it’s somehow his fault that their brothers fell in love.

“P’Kim,” Chay says quietly, “I know I didn’t originally choose this life, but I want Hia to be happy. And I want to find my own happiness, too.” He fixes Kim with a clear, intent gaze, so Kim knows exactly who his happiness is. “Which means I’m choosing this life now.”

Vexation flits onto Kim’s face. “Do you even know what you’re saying, Chay? This is a life of danger, violence, and destruction. Most people who live it don’t get happy endings, if they live long enough to get an ending at all. We’ve all got blood on our hands in this profession, we’re covered in it.”

He looks down, as if expecting to see red dripping off the tips of his slim fingers.

Chay reaches out to take Kim’s hand but Kim draws away from him. The move hurts worse than a physical blow; it’s a rejection of the firmest kind.

“You should stay away from me, Chay,” Kim repeats, resolve hardening. “I don’t think I can give you what you want.”

“W– what do you mean, you can’t give me what I want?” Chay asks desperately, feeling Kim pull even further away from him, emotionally. You are what I want, he thinks, but out loud says, “P’Kim, what’s changed?”

When Kim doesn’t reply, Chay levels him with his most assessing gaze.

“What happened while you were on that job?” His tone has pivoted from pleading to insistent and he can see from Kim’s expression that he didn’t expect Chay to ask so directly. But he knows something definitely occurred to dissolve Kim’s open, hopeful demeanour from several days ago.

When Kim doesn’t say anything, Chay adds, “please, P’Kim, tell me. It won’t change anything between us or make me think less of you. If you’re going to shut me out, at least tell me why. I deserve that much.”

Kim stares at him acutely for a moment longer and then closes his eyes, capitulating.

“I was sent out to gather information…and then carry out a hit. One of my father’s business associates had been lying about shipments going missing. He was keeping the goods and selling them to make extra profits for himself. My father wanted…to make an example of him. I didn’t want to do it—I don’t really want to do that any more,” he looks at Chay as he says this, as though reminding himself of why. “But he didn’t give me a choice.”

“What do you mean?” Chay asks, worry creeping into his voice.

“My father can be very…persuasive,” Kim says, distaste coating his tone like a layer of grime over silk. “He said that if I didn’t do it, he’d ask Kinn…or Tankhun.”

Chay feels shock slice through him. He hasn’t known P’Tankhun very long, but he knows there’s no way he could kill someone, meaning P’Korn threatened Tankhun’s wellbeing to manipulate Kim into doing what he wanted.

“He said other things too,” Kim says, sounding apathetic, like he’s used to this, “but the message was clear. Saying no wasn’t an option.”

Chay suddenly feels a surge of white-hot anger towards Korn. How could he do this to his own son?

“I spent the first day gathering intel,” Kim continues impassively, “then, I got a full confession out of the target and shot him.” Chay wonders if the detachment in Kim’s tone is natural or placed. Now that he knows Kim didn’t want to do this, he suspects the latter.

“I was on my way out of the building and I’d called for a cleanup crew when someone arrived at the warehouse. It was his partner and…they found the body.”

Kim doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t need to. Chay can imagine exactly what happened. Finding the cooling body of your lover on the floor of a warehouse would be akin to having your heart slowly prised from your body. Agonising. Life-altering.

Kim is trying to hide it but Chay can see the distress written into the subtle lines of his expression. It’s in the uptilt of his eyebrows and the dimness of his eyes as he looks off into the distance.

Chay reaches for Kim’s hand again, suddenly wanting a point of connection between them. This time Kim lets him take it, cold fingers inert in Chay’s grasp.

“I’m sorry,” Chay says gently. “I’m sorry your father made you do that. That’s– it’s so wrong. How could he?” He puts all of his abhorrence and anger into the words and a ghost of a smile appears on Kim’s face. As though Chay’s outrage on his behalf offers him a modicum of comfort.

Chay takes that moment to move into Kim’s line of sight, forcing him to meet his gaze.

“You are not a monster, P’Kim. I know you—the real you—and you’re not.”

“Do you know what a monster actually looks like, Chay?” Kim asks, an almost sad expression crossing his face, as though he thinks Chay’s being naive.

Yes, Chay wants to say. I’ve seen monsters. They look like Tawan and your father. Not you.

But instead, he says, “I know a monster wouldn’t save my life twice with no expectation of a reward. A monster wouldn’t investigate someone they didn’t trust in order to keep their brothers safe. A monster wouldn’t stay with me in the middle of a storm just to make sure I was okay.”

He steps closer to Kim so that only a few inches and the ghostly ebb and flow of their combined breaths separate them.

“You’re right about a lot of things P’Kim, but you’re wrong about this. You might think you’re a monster, but your actions speak differently.”

“Chay, my actions killed a man today,” Kim says soberly.

“And do you know why that still doesn’t make you a monster?” Chay asks, lifting both of Kim’s hands in his and holding them to his own chest, as though Kim might be able to feel the sincerity in Chay’s words through the beating of his heart.

Kim looks wary for a second, but doesn’t say anything, which Chay takes as his cue to continue.

“Because you didn’t want to do it.”

Kim’s eyebrows lift in surprise and Chay squeezes his hands supportively. “There’s a difference between killing people for pleasure and killing people to protect others. Since I’ve known you, every time you’ve killed it’s been out of necessity to protect someone. You’ve never done it because you enjoyed it. It was something that had to be done to keep other people away from harm. Today you kept P’Kinn and P’Tankhun safe. Other times…you’ve kept me safe.”

He says the last part quietly and lifts Kim’s hands higher. Feeling bold, he softly kisses Kim’s knuckles, moving across each one like it’s a treasure map to the stars.

“Chay…” His name seems to be the only word Kim can utter, whispering it like it’s a revelation—like Chay is a revelation—as he watches Chay’s lips on his hands.

Chay feels the air between them grow molten with understanding and desire. He takes another small step forward. Their joined hands form a bridge in the remaining space, connecting them irrevocably.

Chay opens his mouth, knowing those three words lying dormant on his tongue—and in his chest—are about to come out.

Then, lightning shears the air above them and he lets out a tiny sound of terror.

In the tense moments of trying to get through to Kim, the storm had become background noise. It came second to drawing Kim out of the dark, but now it roars back to life in earnest, flooding Chay’s senses with fear.

Instinctively, he grips Kim’s hands tighter.

“Chay…you’re outside.” A note of comprehension creeps into Kim’s voice and his eyes widen in mild alarm as he realises the significance of this.

Chay, whose fear or storms was enough to have him quaking in Kim’s arms just weeks ago, is standing outside, on a rooftop, in the eye of the tempest.

“Why are you out here?” Kim demands, letting go of Chay’s hands to grip his shoulders, pulling him even closer as though he wants to shield him from the rain and lightning.

“I could ask you the same thing!” Chay half-squeaks, half-cries, incredulous. “You were gripping a metal railing when the sky was full of forked lightning.”

Kim looks unphased. “I…needed some space to think,” he admits, and Chay is once again floored by the small blessing of Kim speaking the truth. “This was the first place that came to mind.”

“Okay,” Chay says, voice slightly calmer, “that’s understandable. But…could you not have done it…inside?” His voice rises in pitch again despite his best efforts, and then he mentally chastises himself.

Kim took a man’s life today and came out here to decompress. He’s been trying to unravel what he’s done…and Chay is standing here asking him why he couldn’t have been considerate enough to work through his emotions indoors.

“I– sorry, um, that was thoughtless, I just meant–”

“Chay.” Kim says his name like he’s planting a seed and letting a tree grow around them, Chay’s name rising up and unfurling into seaform leaves and merigold flowers. “It’s fine.”

He looks at Chay fondly and Chay’s heart goes over a speedbump in his chest.

“Why did you come out here?” Kim asks again, glancing up as the sky flashes white above them.

Chay doesn’t even have to think about his answer. “I came for you.”

Simple words, with so much conviction flowing through them. Kim’s eyes snap back to Chay as they’re uttered, eyebrows lifting slightly.

“But you hate storms,” he says, a tangible question in his voice.

Chay laughs a little self-deprecatingly, even as his stomach swoops when the wind gets stronger, forcing him to lean into the circle of Kim’s arms.

“Yes…but…I hate the idea of you being hurt more.”

Kim looks confused. “I’m not hurt though?”

Chay lifts a palm and places it flat against Kim’s chest, right over his heart.

“Aren’t you?”

For a moment Kim just stares at him in stunned silence. Then, as he opens his mouth to respond, an awful creaking sound fills the air around them. All the hairs on Chay’s arms stand on end.

“What was–”

He doesn’t get to finish the question. They both turn as the huge, black telescope at the end of the roof groans. The wind tugs it into its grip, making the metal feet scream as they scrape across the floor.

Then, an unruly gust sets it free. The lens smashes into the ground and the entire body of the instrument begins to hurtle end-over-end, crashing through a flower bed, and heading straight towards Kim and Chay.

“P’Kim–” Chay yelps in fright, but before he can say anything else Kim throws himself at Chay and tackles him to the floor.

Kim’s hands come up to protect Chay’s neck and head from impact as they hit the ground together, and he covers Chay with his entire body, shielding him as the telescope careers past in a blur of grinding metal and glass.

It smashes into the wall of the roof entrance, narrowly missing the door Chay came through earlier, and making pieces of brick explode everywhere.

There’s a moment of silence and then wind seems to loosen its grip on the instrument. The whole structure clatters limply to the ground.

Chay feels himself sag with it, relieved that the danger is over. But his heart stutters when he realises that Kim hasn’t moved from on top of him.

A new kind of fear spikes through him, one that has nothing to do with the storm.

“P’Kim?!” He shakes Kim slightly, terrified that the telescope hit him somehow.

“P’Kim!”

Chay is about to roll them over, to cradle Kim’s head and check him for injuries, when Kim pushes his upper body off Chay and looks down at him.

“Are you okay?” Kim demands, searching Chay for any sign of harm and not realising that Chay is doing the same.

“I’m fine,” Chay breathes, tension dissipating from his muscles, leaving them loose and shaky. “Are you?”

“Yeah,” Kim says, looking over to see where the telescope landed. His hair floats in wet tendrils around his face and Chay unthinkingly reaches up and brushes one back behind his ear. Kim turns back to him, face opening up in surprise.

Chay’s own eyes widen in response as he realises what he’s done, hand hovering to the side of Kim’s face. He wants to reach out and touch Kim’s cheek, but indecision halts him and he withdraws it back to his own chest.

Instead he asks, “why didn’t you say anything? I thought– I thought you were…” He trails off, not sure how to distil the magnitude of his worry into words.

But Kim seems to understand. He tilts his head, never taking his eyes off Chay, and moves one hand to pat Chay’s shoulder. At the last moment, he seems to think better of it and threads his fingers into Chay’s hair. Chay stifles a sharp intake of breath.

“I’m okay, Chay. It didn’t hit me.”

Something about the simple truth of that statement, and the fact that Kim is unharmed, has tears welling up in Chay’s eyes.

He blinks rapidly to clear them.

“You just– thank you…you probably just saved my life.”

When Kim doesn’t say anything, Chay feels the need to whisper into the silence, “you did it again. Kept me safe.”

“Well,” Kim pauses like he’s weighing his words carefully, choosing the ones that have enough gravity to keep them both here and stop them from floating off into the violent skies. “It’s you. It’s always been you, Chay. Since the moment we met, you’ve never been far from my thoughts. And you came for me.”

Chay’s sure his chest must be glowing from the amount of humming sparks that are coalescing there. Kim is looking at him with an intense expression, just like the last time they were on this rooftop. This time though, Kim is so close to him that Chay can’t look away.

He wouldn’t want to even if he could.

Kim is his prologue, his epilogue, and everything in between.

The storm has gone still in the background, persistent roar quietening to a distant rumble, as though the heavens themselves have paused expectantly to hear what will be said and decided in this moment.

That seems like a good enough sign to Chay; it’s time to go all in. Even if Kim doesn’t feel the same way, or won’t admit to it, at least Chay will have spoken what’s in his heart.

“I’ll always come for you, P’Kim, if you want me to. You keep saving me…so I think you understand what it’s like to want to protect someone and help them when they’re in trouble.”

Kim is quiet, watching him intently, fingers still threaded through Chay’s hair, so he continues.

“That day outside your apartment, I was angry and hurt by the way you left me without any explanation…but I think I understand why you did it now. You’ve been trained to gather information, you weren’t expecting…feelings to be part of it.”

He says the next part quieter, but doesn’t break eye contact with Kim.

“Do you remember when I asked you if you’d ever cared about me? Well…I think I know the answer. Y–you don’t have to say it, if you’re not ready, but you should know that I– I never stopped loving you, and…I don’t think I ever will.”

Kim’s expression morphs into one of subtle amazement.

“I love you, P’Kim,” Chay says, clear and assured, voice ringing out like the sweet chime of a bell.

There’s an intake of breath and Chay realises the sound came from Kim.

Kim is looking at him like he just took a handful of stars and scattered them into the night sky. He’s looking at Chay like he just healed a wound in Kim’s chest with a glowing shimmer of sunlight.

“Porchay…”

Kim’s eyebrows are tilted up, face an open songbook, melodies woven into the circle of his irises and the curve of his cheeks. His free hand—the one that’s not holding him up—slides from Chay’s hair to cup the side of his jaw.

The sky holds its breath. The moon brightens. Time unspools, gliding to a stop.

“P’Kim,” Chay murmurs breathlessly, as Kim leans towards him. When their lips are a whisper apart, Kim stops, seeking confirmation in Chay’s eyes that he wants this.

Chay gives it to him by tilting his neck upward so that his lips brush Kim’s, sending sparks shooting down his spine.

Kim’s breath hitches, then he’s closing the gap between them and they’re kissing.

Chay can’t help the small noise of delight he makes. This is everything he’d hoped for and, somehow, even more. The kiss is full of adoration and bright wonder, the culmination of their collective heartache and hope from the last few months.

Kim’s lips are soft as he swipes his tongue lightly into Chay’s mouth to taste him, making Chay gasp at the thrill of it.

Kim pulls back to gently bite Chay’s bottom lip and Chay almost melts into a pool of liquid bliss from the undiluted pleasure of the sensation.

He’s never kissed anyone before and he’d almost put to rest any hopes of his first kiss being with Kim. So, it feels like providence that they’ve somehow found their way back to each other and are here, now, in this glistening moment.

Kim kisses like he wants to go to war for Chay’s happiness. He kisses with the same unshakable confidence that he puts into everything else, but Chay can tell from the uptick in his breathing that he didn’t expect this.

Chay lifts a hand and entwines his fingers in the wet hair at the back of Kim’s neck, drawing him down until their chests are pressed together. He kisses Kim fervently, with all the joy that’s flowing through him.

His other hand wraps around Kim’s back, holding him close.

In this moment, Chay feels like he could stop a moving train with his bare hands or realign the planets with a mere nod to the sky. He feels invincible. Rapturous.

Is this what it’s like to have your love returned?

He hopes everyone gets to experience this at least once in their lifetime. This feeling of coming home. The sensation of your blood igniting, the golden sparks of a new-born sun running under your skin at the smallest touch from the one you love.

As Kim changes the angle of the kiss, deepening it, the storm roars back to life around them, its thunderous echo almost a chorus of celebratory applause.

They break apart at the sound, both breathing heavily and glancing up at the sky, before looking back at each other, gazes soft and charged.

“Chay…I–” Kim stops, looking like he wants to give Chay the words they’re both thinking, but something is holding him back.

Suddenly, Chay knows what it is.

He grew up around Porsche, in a caring, nurturing household where he was actively encouraged to be honest about his feelings. It’s always been easy for him to be open and emotionally available because Porsche showed him how and provided a safe, judgement-free space for him to express himself.

Kim has never had that, or perhaps not for a long time. If anything, it seems like he and his brothers were urged to repress their feelings, rather than share them.

Maybe Kim wants to say those three words…but he’s spent so long compressing his feelings that he doesn’t know how to anymore.

Chay strokes his fingers reassuringly through the ends of Kim’s hair.

“P’Kim…if you’re not ready to say it, don’t worry. I can wait until you are.”

“Chay…” Kim is looking at him with a strange expression. Almost like wonder.

“Where did you come from?” He asks unexpectedly, staring at Chay in mild astonishment.

“Um…Saphan Sung?” Chay says uncertainly, referencing his and Porsche’s old neighbourhood and drawing a small chuckle out of Kim.

The sound makes Chay feel warm, despite the chill of the rain.

“That’s not what I meant…I just…you’re too good for me, Chay. You’re far more than I deserve,” Kim says, face growing serious.

“Well,” Chay says lightly, not wanting to see Kim dejected again, “you already know I disagree, but maybe you can make it up to me, then. Starting with more of this.”

He leans forward and captures Kim’s lips with his own, delighting in the way the action coaxes a surprised hum out of Kim.

When they finally break apart again, Kim’s hand is still cupping Chay’s jaw and he strokes the contour of Chay’s cheek slowly.

Chay leans into the movement, closing his eyes to savour the feeling.

He didn’t dare hope, after that night in his room, that he’d get to feel the warmth of Kim’s hands again so soon. It’s dreamlike and euphoric.

An aggressive crackle of thunder overhead reminds him that they’re still overlooked by the heavens.

Chay’s eyes fly open and his startled gaze finds Kim’s immediately. Kim must be able to tell from one glance that Chay is spooked because he lifts himself up and pulls Chay gently into a sitting position.

“Let’s go inside.”

“Yes please,” Chay agrees instantly.

Kim stands and brings Chay up with him, lifting him carefully by the elbows. He takes Chay’s hand and leads them back through the roof terrace door.

As they pass the mangled wreckage of the telescope, Chay shudders and takes a moment to thank whatever luck or divine intervention stopped Kim from being hit by that.

Once they get inside and down the rooftop stairs, all the storm-channelled, kiss-sparked adrenaline goes out of Chay, like a torch going dark.

He slowly sinks to a crouch, exhaustion washing over him, then lets himself drop backwards into a sitting position, knees bent in front of him, stairs at his back.

Kim follows him like a shadow, concern etched into his lovely features.

“Chay?” Kim asks quietly, putting a hand lightly around his shoulders.

“I’m okay,” Chay says through an exhale. “It’s just the adrenaline comedown. It makes me tired.”

Kim gently pulls him until he’s leaning against his shoulder. Chay relaxes into him instantly, comforted by the lean outline of Kim’s muscles, despite how wet they both are.

“It’s my fault you were out there,” Kim mutters quietly.

Chay tilts his head up to make eye contact with Kim, a mirror image of his younger self lying on the sofa, looking at Kim, spellbound by love.

“It’s not your fault. I chose to go out there. I’d do it again if it meant finding you. And I’d definitely do it again if it meant…getting to…”

He trails off, blushing as his eyes drop to Kim’s lips.

Kim reads his intention and leans down to kiss Chay softly, like he wants to cradle him in his arms.

When they break apart, Chay turns and hugs Kim tightly, throwing all his relief into it.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers into Kim’s hair.

Eventually, they reluctantly separate and, for a few moments, just watch one another affectionately, drinking in each other’s outlines. Now that their feelings are out in the open, lighting up the space between them in a dewy golden glow, looking at one another is suddenly easier.

Before, when hurt and anger marred the atmosphere, only stolen glances were allowed. Now, they can look freely, without repercussions.

That’s how Kinn and Porsche find them a short while later, sitting in a growing puddle of rainwater, mesmerised by each other.

Kinn has a lot of questions for Kim and Porsche admonishes Chay for running off, but they’re both glad to find their brothers in one piece, if drenched.

Kim looks wary when Kinn kneels down next to him and asks what happened, but he recounts the tale with a level of stoicism that wasn’t present when he told Chay.

Chay isn’t sure if it’s because he’s more composed now or because he doesn’t want Kinn and Porsche to see that side of him, but either way, he takes Kim’s fingers and soothingly threads his own through them.

Neither Porsche nor Kinn miss the action, Kinn tilting his head in barely concealed interest and Porsche raising an eyebrow.

They both know the basics of what happened between Kim and Chay before the minor family’s attempted coup; Chay caved and told Porsche when it became clear that his brother knew something had happened and was concerned about Chay’s wellbeing.

Which means they can tell that something has changed.

But Chay isn’t ready to explain everything yet and he certainly doesn’t think Kim is in the mood to tell their brothers they just kissed under a storm-soaked sky, so he gives Porsche a pleading look that says, I’m begging you not to ask.

After a moment’s scrutiny, Porsche’s eyebrow lowers back to its usual position and he relents, returning Chay’s desperate look with a measured one of his own. I’ll drop it for now, but I have questions for later.

Kinn looks perturbed by everything Kim reports, but he also seems to have noticed that Kim and Chay are contributing to the growing lake of water on the floor. He suggests they head back downstairs to change and dry off and both Kim and Chay readily agree.

The older brothers lead the way toward the lifts, Kinn peppering Kim with further questions, and looking increasingly unhappy when he hears the answers, but Chay hangs back.

The storm is no longer directly overhead, almost like it’s lost interest now it doesn’t have active participants to threaten, but Chay still isn’t comfortable taking the elevator down to the lower floors.

Kim sees his hesitation and turns to Kinn. “We’ll take the stairs,” he says simply and then moves to hold the stairwell door open for Chay.

Chay glances back at Porsche, who’s looking at Kim with a newfound respect. He gives Chay a brief, understanding nod, and then he and Kinn step into the elevator.

Kim walks Chay all the way back to his room, even though his suite is on a different floor, and then pauses, like he wants to say something.

Chay waits for a moment, hovering on the threshold. He knows by now that if he carves out a careful space for Kim, the mafia heir will eventually fill it with words he wants to say.

“I’m glad you came to the roof,” Kim offers quietly, looking at Chay from under his lashes. “I wasn’t in a good place and…you helped a lot.”

“I’m glad I came too,” Chay says softly, smiling

There’s a hesitant pause, where neither of them says anything else, and Chay is momentarily flooded with worry that the easy atmosphere between them is going to become awkward now that they’ve kissed.

What if Kim regrets it? What if he only did it because of the intensity of the moment and now–

Kim takes Chay’s left hand, shattering the glass prison of his thoughts. He rubs his thumb over the back of Chay’s knuckles tenderly, making Chay’s skin fizz with tiny beams of heat.

“If you still want to stargaze, let me know.”

Kim slowly lets go of Chay’s hand and starts to leave when Chay blurts out, “yes!”

Kim turns back to him, eyes glimmering with fondness and a touch of mirth.

“Yes, I– I’d really like that,” Chay finishes enthusiastically, clasping the sodden hem of his jumper. He’s still haemorrhaging water all over the carpet, but he doesn’t really care. Kim just offered to take him stargazing.

“When can we do it?” He sounds over-eager even to his own ears, but Kim is smiling again and Chay is done pretending that he doesn’t want to spend more time with the other man.

“Well,” Kim says slowly, “I wouldn’t recommend a night like tonight.”

A snort of laughter bursts from Chay before he can stop it and his hand flies to his mouth. He has approximately half a second to rue the sound before he realises that Kim is looking at him with an expression he’s never seen before. If he had to guess, he’d say it’s Kim’s version of delight.

“Are you happy to go back up to the rooftop when the weather is better?” Kim asks.

Chay nods his assent.

“We’ll need to get a new telescope, then,” Kim muses. He must see Chay’s face fall because he adds, “after he’s finished throwing a fit, Tankhun will order a new one. And…on the next clear night, I’ll show you how to look for the stars.”

“It’s a date!” Chay confirms cheerfully and then feels his eyes widen in horror as he realises what he just said.

It’s a date. He wants to backspace the last five minutes of his life and hurl himself into a void.

But Kim doesn’t freeze up or look pityingly at him. He doesn’t even disagree.

He simply gives Chay a small smile and wishes him goodnight. Chay says goodnight in return, voice warmer and brighter than a sparkler on a frosty evening. He watches Kim go, eyes tracing his familiar outline all the way down the corridor until he disappears from view.

Chay steps through his bedroom door, closes it, then throws himself onto his bed and lets out a little squeal of happiness.

Chapter Text

From here, things only get better. Chay tells Porsche about the full extent of his feelings for Kim and the fact that he’s pretty sure Kim feels the same way.

He does not mention the kiss on the rooftop, but he thinks, from the shrewd look in Porsche's eye, that he might have guessed anyway.

Porsche casually threatens to beat Kim into next week if he hurts Chay a second time—thankfully not to Kim’s face— and Chay begs him to never say that out loud again.

Privately, though, he’s pleased Porsche is in his corner. His brother has always supported and stood up for him and Chay finds it soothing to know that some things never change.

But he also has no idea who would win in a fight between Kim and Hia and absolutely zero desire to find out. Porsche is a martial arts champion, but Kim has guns. Then again, Porsche also has guns now. Definitely not a question he needs answering.

Kim and Kinn must have a discussion about the missions their father has been sending Kim on because Chay overhears Kinn saying to Porsche that Kim won’t be doing those types of jobs any more.

When Chay carefully broaches the subject with the youngest Theerapanyakul brother, Kim doesn't say much but he seems less convinced than Kinn that it won't happen again.

Chay decides that if it does, he’s going to stage some sort of intervention. He doesn't know what he'll do yet, but it’ll be big. He'll get Porsche and Kinn to back him up. They have far more pulling power with Korn and they'll be able to help Kim.

It's time to chase his own happiness. And that means chasing Kim's too.

A month later, when the repairs to the roof terrace have been completed and a new telescope has been installed (Tankhun wailed that his baby had been destroyed and promptly ordered another one), Kim invites Chay up to the roof one night.

When Chay opens the door this time, there's no tempestuous wind trying to slam it closed. No pinpricks of rain greet him. No thunder or lightning rattle his nerve endings.

There's only the stillness of the night, a calm inhale before the first line of a song.

Keeping the cadence of his voice feather-light, Chay says, “hello, P’Kim.”

Kim looks over from where he’s reclining against the railing at the edge of the roof, the picture of undisturbed repose.

He’s wearing fitted black trousers and a denim jacket that’s the same midnight blue as the sky above them. Underneath the jacket is a navy shirt and several silver necklaces that wink dreamily in the pale moonlight where they adorn Kim’s neck. Chay thinks he can see matching silver hoop earrings too.

Did Kim dress up for tonight? Is this actually a date?

Chay’s heart starts beating faster against his ribs, channelling excited butterflies through his bloodstream.

He’s suddenly glad he spent extra time agonising over his outfit before settling on the smarter option of a white shirt under an emerald green jumper and neatly pressed black trousers.

His hair is styled into messy curls and he added a small set of pins to each corner of his shirt collar, linked by a gossamer silver chain. One shows a tiny sun and the other a small moon, which Chay thinks is oddly fitting since he and Kim have met on this rooftop during bright sunshine and filigree moonlight, and nothing in between.

Chay starts to walk over to where Kim is waiting, feeling little frissions of energy run over his skin with every step he takes. When he reaches Kim, the mafia heir pushes off the railing and studies him.

Even though he’s looking at Kim with the same curiosity and desire that Kim is showing him, Chay feels a blush start to warm his cheeks. Kim’s hair is longer than it was four weeks ago, curling towards his shoulders in softly styled waves, with a few artful pieces framing his face.

He looks stunning.

Chay wants to reach out and run his hands through the locks at Kim’s neck, to feel their silken texture as they slide through his fingers like raindrops.

He hopes he’ll get to do that again tonight.

“You look good,” Kim says, startling Chay out of his thoughts.

“I– oh, um, thank you,” Chay says, blushing harder and playing with the sleeves of his jumper. “You do too. Amazing, actually. You look amazing. I’ve, um, I’ve never seen your hair this long.”

I’ve never seen your hair this long? That’s the best you can come up with? He mentally slaps his forehead.

“I thought I’d grow it out,” Kim says, looking at Chay with warmth in his dark eyes. “Do you like it?”

“Yes! It suits you,” Chay says enthusiastically, then pauses and gives Kim an astute look. “But I’m sure you already knew that.”

Kim raises his eyebrows in a mock-shocked expression and then smirks in a way that tells Chay he knows exactly how good he looks.

“I grew my hair out once before for a WIK music video,” Kim says, glancing across the rooftop casually. “The fans seemed to like it.”

Chay rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I’m sure I can imagine what they were saying.”

Kim’s gaze returns to Chay and there’s mischief in his eyes.

“You weren’t one of them?”

Once, Chay would have flushed with embarrassment at Kim openly acknowledging his status as a WIK superfan, but now he simply crosses his arms and throws Kim a playful look in return. He can’t feel too embarrassed about something that brought him and Kim together in the first place.

“I’ve seen the video. But I don’t recall commenting on it.”

“You don’t have a fan account?” Kim asks and his smile is teasing now.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that,” Chay replies, giving Kim an innocent look that says, I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Chay does, in fact, have a WIK fan account. It was active until about five months ago, when he discovered Porsche’s involvement in the mafia. But there’s no way he’s telling Kim that. At least, not yet anyway.

Kim scrutinises Chay for a moment and then relents. “Good poker face.”

Chay has to resist the urge to preen at the praise, instead shrugging nonchalantly and offering Kim an impish smile. “I’m surrounded by mafia, I hope I’ve picked up something from you all.”

The light, easy expression slides off Kim’s face and Chay can feel his own smile tumble in response, like a boulder rolling off a cliff. Sudden, ground-shaking.

“What’s wrong?” Chay asks, immediately nervous. Uncertainty coats his tongue like the acidic tang of an overripe mango.

Kim takes another step towards him and Chay’s nervousness only increases.

Did I say something wrong?

“Chay,” Kim says solemnly, “if you want to learn skills that will come in useful in this family, nobody’s going to stop you. In fact, I can teach you how to shoot or train you in hand-to-hand combat. Just…” Kim seems to struggle with himself for a moment and then continues, “I have no right to ask you this, but will you promise me one thing?”

“What?” Chay asks quietly, voice a whispered glimmer of curiosity and apprehension.

“Don’t take any lives,” Kim says firmly. His tone is low but the words seem to reverberate around the roof.

Chay’s eyes widen.

“Even if you want to, even if they deserve it. Just…tell me you won’t.” Kim is almost pleading and the thought makes a small ache bloom behind Chay’s sternum. Kim…shouldn’t plead for anything.

“Killing changes people,” Kim continues, looking down, “not for the better. I watched my oldest brother change after killing and then being kidnapped. Kinn changed too after he took someone’s life for the first time. I don’t want to see you change as well.”

Kim gently takes Chay’s hands and cradles them in his own, examining Chay’s open palms.

“These hands weren’t meant for killing,” he says softly, looking back up at Chay from under his brows.

There’s so much unspoken emotion in Kim’s star-burdened eyes that Chay feels every drop of his concern like a fresh torrent of rain, crowning them both in heavy humidity.

“P’Kim,” he says, encouragement making the syllables sweet, “you don’t need to worry. I have no intention of taking anyone’s life.”

Kim seems to visibly deflate at this, relief ebbing into his expression, and Chay feels his heart skip over its next beat. Kim is cute when he’s reassured.

“I mean…I should probably learn some self-defence after what happened a few months ago and…I might want to try the shooting range just to see what it’s like, but,” he turns his hands over and threads his fingers through Kim’s, “I don’t think I’d enjoy carrying a gun. Not after…everything that’s happened…with the minor family. I’m just– I’m not sure guns are for me.”

Kim nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to worry,” Chay adds, “I’m not going to change.” He gives Kim a light, hopeful smile and Kim offers him a small one in return.

“Though, I might suddenly decide I don’t like pizza any more,” Chay jokes, “or take up competitive fencing and start carrying an épée around everywhere to jab at people with. I might start listening to exclusively classical music and dressing like I’m an extra in Lord of the Rings. After tonight, maybe I’ll get so into astronomy that I decide to move to a small house in the countryside where I can spend every night looking at–”

“–you’ve made your point, Chay” Kim interrupts, but his features are mellow rather than annoyed and Chay can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “You’re allowed to change. Just,” he rubs his thumb over Chay’s hand, “don’t become a stranger.”

“I wouldn’t– I couldn’t,” Chay says earnestly, and then adds, “you’re stuck with me just as I am.” The sky seems to glow a little brighter where it’s reflected in Kim’s gaze.

“Well then,” Kim says, “at the risk of losing you to the countryside because you enjoy astronomy so much, shall we look at the stars?”

Chay is laughing and ducking his head before Kim has even finished his sentence. “That was– I was just…”

“I know,” Kim says warmly.

“Okay then,” Chay replies, “yes please.”

Kim’s eyes dance as he lets go of one of Chay’s hands so he can use the other to lead him down to the end of the roof.

Chay has only a few seconds to marvel at the fact that they’re holding hands like a couple before they reach the telescope, and–

Oh.

Chay’s breath catches.

Next to the telescope, there’s a small picnic blanket laid out on the floor with drinks and snacks on top. Chay spies both of his favourite flavours of Puriku, as well as some juice and coca cola. There are small takeout boxes of fried rice, pork skewers, khao pad, and even pizza in the centre of the blanket.

Beside them sits a small box of miniature cupcakes, a tub of strawberries and mango, and a few other sweet treats that have Chay salivating.

Set back from the blanket, clusters of candles cast a warm glow over the scene, rippling in the faint breeze. Fairy lights adorn the nearby flower boxes and a line has even been strung around the stem of the telescope, giving it a cosy golden scarf.

This is definitely a date, Chay’s brain supplies as his heart tries to soar off into the clouds. He just about manages to rein it back in.

Kim really did all this…for him?

Beside him, Kim rubs the back of his neck with his free hand, looking surprisingly sheepish.

“Tankhun found out we were coming up here and insisted on putting out the candles and lights. I don’t know why…” Kim trails off and Chay looks over at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.

“Sure you don’t,” he says playfully.

Kim tilts his head and sighs in a way that Chay thinks may be Kim’s version of melodramatic. “Once Tankhun gets an idea in his head, it’s hard to sway him from it. He’s stubborn.”

After a pause, Kim adds, “I hope you were joking about not liking pizza anymore?”

“Of course I was,” Chay says confidently, allowing the change of subject.

Perhaps he doesn’t need Kim to verbally acknowledge that this is a date. Not when it’s written so clearly into the elegant features of his face. “I love pizza. And it’s very thoughtful of you—or P’Tankhun—to have put this all together.”

“The food was me,” Kim says, prompted by Chay’s emphasis on Tankhun’s name. He looks down at the spread and purposefully doesn’t make eye contact with Chay as he speaks. “I thought we could have something to eat while we use the telescope.”

Chay can’t be sure because, even with all the honeyed light around them, it’s still quite dark, but he thinks Kim might be blushing?

The urge to kiss the mafia heir rises up in him like the swell of a summer breeze. It hums through his muscles and sails through his blood until it reaches his heart. All he can think about is lifting his hand, touching Kim’s cheek, and tilting Kim’s face towards him so he can lean in and–

“Are you hungry?” Kim’s words draw Chay out of his reverie and he realises he’s been staring at Kim’s profile without saying anything. And Kim has noticed.

Chay flushes.

A blush for a blush, then.

“I am,” he says enthusiastically, mentally urging his hot cheeks to return to their usual colour.

Kim smiles again and Chay thinks he’ll never get tired of seeing that smile. The less Kim shows it, the more Chay wants to see it. It’s an aurora in the night sky; rare and beautiful, drawing people from far and wide for a fleeting glimpse of its majesty. Chay thinks he’d cross entire oceans if it meant knowing Kim’s smile would always be aimed at him.

“Well, let’s eat then,” Kim says simply, and Chay nods enthusiastically.

They sit down on the blanket, lights glistening around them, and Kim opens the various containers, offering Chay some before putting a portion on his own plate and pouring them each a drink.

The night is calm and the stars overhead wait their turn to be the centre of attention.

Kim and Chay talk and eat, and Chay practically throws himself into the pizza box when he discovers how good it tastes. Kim smiles fondly at Chay’s antics and Chay laughs at his own jokes and Kim’s occasional ones with equal gusto.

He feels like he could burst with happiness; Kim must surely be able to see it radiating out of him like an aura.

But if he does, he doesn’t say anything. He just continues to look fondly at Chay as they talk, far more at ease than Chay has seen him in a long time.

Once they’ve finished some of the savoury food, Kim asks Chay if he wants dessert.

“Can we wait for a bit? I need time to digest that pizza and revel in its glory.” He grins as he says the last part.

“Of course, but…are you sure you don’t want me to leave you and the pizza alone for a while?” Kim replies, arching a brow.

“No, no, no, we’ve finished our entanglement now, it was a mutual parting of ways,” Chay says mock-sombrely, patting his stomach, and Kim huffs out an almost-laugh.

It’s a piece of music that Chay wants to listen to on repeat.

The mafia heir stands and moves to the telescope. This one is roughly the same size as the last one, but midnight blue instead of black, and its feet are bolted to a reinforced base. Chay thinks that’s a very smart move.

As Kim looks into the lens and adjusts it to eye level while Chay lies back on the blanket. He feels soothed, food-warmed and, if he’s being honest, a little love-drunk.

He’s out here on the rooftop, having a blissful night with Kim, and there’s no storm in sight.

“The stars look good from here, maybe we should just lie down instead” he jokes, stretching an arm out as if to pluck a bouquet of light from the sky.

A hand appears in his line of vision. He looks over to find Kim reaching for him.

“I can guarantee that they look better through this,” Kim says warmly, tilting his head towards the telescope.

Chay lies there for a beat more, gazing at this version of Kim that wants to take his hand and show him the galaxy. Then he grins, stretches up, and grasps Kim’s hand, letting the other man draw him into a standing position.

Kim leads Chay over to the telescope, which seems even bigger than the previous one up close, and positions him by the lens.

“Look through here,” Kim says, voice mellow as he points to the viewfinder and puts a hand on Chay’s lower back to nudge him closer. Chay feels the warmth from Kim’s hand shoot straight up his spine, flowering across his shoulders and through his chest. He tries not to let his legs turn to jelly as he steps forward and looks into the lens.

“Wow,” he exclaims involuntarily.

A river of stars cascades out across his view in a celestial panorama. The sky is alive with thousands of tiny orbs, bejeweling the midnight blue with delicate silver grandeur.

Chay looks back up at Kim quickly.

“It’s incredible!”

“Yeah,” Kim says, with a small smile.

Chay looks into the lens again, awe writing itself into every line of his body.

“There are so many more stars than I ever thought I’d be able to see.”

But when Chay looks up at Kim this time, and sees the soft expression on his face, he doesn’t want to look away.

Thousands of constellations to explore on a perfectly clear night, and he wants to spend all his time looking at Kim.

He would laugh at his own sentimentality, but Kim’s beauty rivals the night itself, perhaps even outstrips it, so Chay thinks he’s justified in wanting to focus on something other than the sky.

“If you look into the very centre of the viewfinder,” Kim says, nodding towards the telescope and pulling Chay from his thoughts, “you should be able to see Canis Major.”

Chay refocuses his efforts on the lens and says, “what am I looking for?”

Kim steps in closer and every atom in Chay’s body lights up, recognising Kim’s proximity. The heat of Kim’s chest against his back is as welcome and familiar as it was in his bedroom, when it was pooling around him like a warm blanket. Kim smells spiced and musky, as though someone threw cinnamon and cloves into an open fire, bottled the smell and then offered it to him.

Chay inhales and feels calmed by it. He’s stopped associating the smell with Kim walking away and has started associating it with gentle touches and the curve of a smile.

“Can you see a really bright star?”

Kim leans over Chay’s shoulder so that he’s looking into the edge of the viewfinder too.

“This one here,” he says, pointing into the lens with one hand to show Chay roughly where he means. The other hand slides up to rest between Chay’s shoulder blades and Chay’s body hums with exhilaration at the contact.

He and Kim have shared plenty of touches over the last few weeks, but every time feels electric and loaded, like there’s a firework in his body, primed to go off as soon as Kim’s skin brushes his.

Chay doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of that feeling, but it does make it hard to focus on the sky when Kim is so close. Still, he dutifully searches for the right star.

“Oh, I can see it!”

“Well,” Kim says measuredly, “that’s Sirius, the brightest star in the sky. If you look directly up from that, you should see three stars in a triangle. That’s Canis Major’s head. Then, if you follow a line down from Sirius, towards eight o’clock on a clockface, you’ll see its tail.”

“Tail?” Chay exclaims. “What sort of constellation is this?”

“It’s a dog, Chay. Canis Major is a dog,” Kim says with humour in his tone.

Chay turns to look at him in disbelief. “Really?”

Kim nods. “Down from the tail is the back leg and then in a north-easterly position, is the front leg.”

Chay looks back into the viewfinder. “Okay, I feel like you’re just making this– oh, no wait, I can see it!” He says, voice rising in excitement. “Actually…it does look almost like a dog. A very…minimalist one.”

He turns back to Kim grinning and feels his stomach fizz. Kim is smiling at him and it’s not just a curve of the mouth, it’s his full, genuine smile. A smile that could light up the city.

Forget Sirius, Chay thinks, the brightest star isn’t in the sky at all.

He’s right here. In front of Chay. Looking mesmerising.

Kim seems to realise that they’re staring at each other, just inches apart, because he slowly pulls his gaze away from Chay to look into the viewfinder again.

“If you look over here, you can see Orion. Those three bright stars make up Orion’s belt, and to the right is his shield.”

Chay peers down the telescope again, moving closer to Kim than is strictly necessary. All this talk of stars has him wanting to be in Kim’s orbit.

“I can’t really see it,” he pouts, squinting a little.

“Here,” Kim says, stepping back. Chay only has a moment to mourn the loss of their closeness, before Kim draws him away from the telescope too, the hand that was against his back curving around his ribs to move him.

“Look at the sky first. Can you see those three stars in a curved line, just there?” Kim asks, head tilted back as he points to a piece of galaxy light years away.

Chay tries to follow the line of Kim’s finger, but he’s lost.

“Um,” he hedges, trying his best to spot them.

“Just here,” Kim says quietly, drawing Chay in next to him and leaning close so that Chay can follow the line of his fingers. Kim’s hair brushes against Chay’s cheek.and Chay has to remind himself to breathe normally.

Then, Kim looks at him sidelong and reaches over to tilt Chay’s chin in the direction of the constellation and Chay’s brain pretty much short-circuits. He blushes at the contact, heart beating in triple time, drumming out a signal of hope and desire as Kim’s fingers slip away.

He wants Kim to kiss him like they did the last time they were up here. He wants Kim to hold him close, arms around Chay, and tell him he’s important. He wants–

His eyes catch on the line of stars.

“Oh, I see them!”

“Okay, now look just above the belt, and you’ll see three more stars. They’re Orion’s head and shoulders. The two below the belt make up the bottom of his body. Then,” Kim’s finger traces an arc in the sky, “that curving line to the right of his shoulders is his shield. And the line above his left shoulder is the hand holding the club.”

“Uh, I can see the shield, but I don’t see the club?” Chay says, confused. But then he spots what Kim is describing. “Oh, wait, I think I do?”

“Good,” Kim says, and there’s something about the sincerity of his praise that warms Chay, making him flush again. “Now, see if you can find the same constellation in the telescope,” Kim suggests, and Chay moves back to the instrument, narrowing his eyes in concentration as he looks down the lens.

Kim adjusts the telescope slightly so that Chay is looking at the exact section of the sky where the constellation sits.

“I uh…”

“Found it?”

“Actually,” Chay says, looking back up at Kim again, “I don’t think I have a career as an astronomer ahead of me. I can’t see it at all.” He laughs regretfully as he says the last part, feeling bad that Kim has taken the time to show him these constellations and he can’t even find this one without help.

But the upward curve in the corner of Kim’s mouth and his relaxed expression ease some of Chay’s guilt.

“Don’t worry,” Kim says mildly, “they’re hard to spot, especially on your first go. Why don’t we try something else.”

He pushes the bulky lens of the telescope so that it rotates towards the other side of the roof.

It can’t be light, but Kim makes it look effortless and Chay finds himself wishing that Kim had taken off his jacket so Chay could see the flex of his biceps now.

Kim looks over at him as though he can hear Chay’s thoughts and Chay quickly schools his expression into one that reads, I am thinking about the stars and absolutely nothing else.

They look for a few other constellations, Chay slowly finding each one under Kim’s tutelage and feeling like the sky glows brighter with each passing minute they spend together.

After a few more successful finds, Kim says, “this time, we’re looking for a constellation of five stars in a twisting line.” Chay struggles to spot it for a few moments, so Kim gives him more detailed instructions and eventually he sees it.

“What’s this one called?”

“Cassiopeia.”

“That’s a beautiful name,” Chay says wistfully.

“If the legends are to be believed, she was beautiful, but also incredibly vain and boastful,” Kim says, looking up at the sky with a raised brow.

“Wait, she was a real person?” Chay asks, surprised.

“She may have been. A lot of constellations are named after figures in Greek mythology, so there are debates about whether or not some of them lived thousands of years ago. Queen Cassiopeia was the mother of Andromeda and she used to boast that her and her daughter’s beauty outstripped everyone else’s.”

“What did she look like?” Chay asks curiously, still peering into the lens.

“I don’t know, I’ve not looked for illustrations,” Kim replies thoughtfully.

“Well…her constellation doesn’t look like a person at all. She’s a zigzag,” Chay says, sounding mystified.

“Sometimes you have to use your imagination,” Kim says, amusement coating his voice like spun sugar.

“Actually,” Chay says, a note of realisation entering his tone, “it looks more like a W.”

He looks up at Kim. “They should have named it after you.”

When Kim looks nonplussed, Chay clarifies, “P’Wik.”

Kim looks at him in disbelief for a moment, like a lost part of his past has just surfaced from a long, ocean-deep sleep.

Oh. Of course.

When Chay first met Kim…he knew him only as Wik and he trusted him unconditionally. With everything that’s happened, Kim probably thought Chay would never call him by that name again. It speaks of a more innocent time, when everything was as new as a spring blossom between them, delicate and petal-soft.

Chay doesn’t want to go back to that period, though. He knows the real Kim now; he doesn’t want to return to a time when he only knew one facet of him.

“Are you saying,” Kim says slowly, “that I’m a vain queen?”

Chay bursts out laughing and the molten intensity between them slips away into the night, folding in on itself until it’s something softer and more breathable.

“You know that’s not what I meant, P’Kim,” Chay whines.

“I know, I know,” Kim says, placatingly. “But,” he adds, looking up at the sky, “I don’t think I deserve a constellation.”

“Why not?” Chay asks, eyebrows tilting upwards.

Kim shrugs nonchalantly, but Chay can see discontent brewing behind his irises. “Constellations are for people that deserve to be remembered.”

“You…don’t think you do?” Chay’s voice wavers on the question.

Kim doesn’t answer, he just gives Chay a rueful look that says, no. I don’t.

“I think everyone deserves a star,” Chay says with a quiet kind of certainty. “We all need some sort of…beacon of light to lead us through the darkness.”

There’s a willowy pause and then Kim murmurs, “maybe you’re mine.”

Chay’s head whips over to look at him. “P’Kim,” he whispers, awestruck that Kim really just said that.

It’s the most romantic thing Kim has ever said to him and he’s looking at Chay so tenderly that Chay feels his entire chest warm pleasantly, like someone just bottled a jar of sunlight and placed it inside the curve of his ribcage. He could get used to seeing these gentle expressions directed at him, they make him feel…cherished.

Kim steps closer to him and Chay’s stomach swoops in excitement. When Kim’s hands land on Chay’s hips, he thinks he might combust from anticipation, skin heating and stomach tingling.

He hasn’t stopped thinking about their kiss since the night of the storm, remembering the charged looks they exchanged and the heady press of Kim’s lips against his own.

Now, as Kim’s eyes drop to Chay’s mouth, he’s thinking about how much he wants to kiss Kim again. How much he craves it.

Kim’s thumbs slide to the top of Chay’s waistband and Chay inhales a shaky breath. When skin meets skin, Chay’s entire existence is condensed down to the sensation of Kim tracing the curve of his hip bones, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake.

Kim draws Chay in by his hips—sending something carnal and scorching down Chay’s spine—until their waists are touching. Chay summons courage through his bones until it’s focused in his hands, then he lifts them and drapes them around Kim’s neck.

Kim’s tender expression turns keener, sharper, and Chay thinks for a moment he’s made a mistake until Kim leans in and captures his mouth in a blistering kiss. Chay makes a small sound of happiness and kisses Kim back enthusiastically.

His hands come up to cup the back of Kim’s neck and, almost in response, Kim’s hands move further around his hips until they’re resting on Chay’s lower back, holding him flush to Kim’s body.

There are few things in Chay’s life that have ever felt better than being held in Kim’s arms. Being comforted while Kim held him was warm and soothing, but being kissed in Kim’s arms is infinitely better. He’s not sad or frightened this time, he’s ecstatic.

Kim kisses Chay slowly, building a rhythm until Chay is soft and pliant against him. He picks up the pace of their kisses, moving from gentle and languorous to urgent and passionate, as though he’s steadily getting swept up in the heat and rapture of the moment.

Chay feels the same. If this is what being lost is like, he never wants to be found. He wants to remain adrift in the spiced, honey-gunsmoke scent of Kim.

Kim breaks off the kiss and Chay is about to object vehemently, when the mafia heir begins leaving a line of kisses up the side of Chay’s neck, one hand sliding up to cup the opposite side of his jaw.

Chay thinks all his muscles might have turned to liquid. Neck kisses, wow, okay. Neck kisses are his new favourite thing.

“P’Kim,” he whispers, tone reverent and shimmering like the stars overhead. His whisper turns into a whimper of pleasure as Kim’s lips reach his jaw and he starts trailing small kisses up to his cheekbone before licking and kissing into the shell of his ear.

Chay is glad that Kim is holding him close because his legs are unsteady. He’s making small gasps every time Kim kisses a new area of skin, but he can’t bring himself to care when it feels so good.

When he drops his hand to Kim’s waist and slides his fingers under Kim’s shirt to feel the hard line of his muscles, Kim hums in encouragement.

Taking that as the go-ahead to continue, Chay traces Kim’s abs and damn, Kim has a six pack.

“Oh,” he exclaims involuntarily and Kim breaks off from kissing his ear to look him in the eyes again.

Chay pulls his hand back, suddenly self-conscious.

“Sorry, I– I just um, I didn’t...” Chay stammers incoherently.

But Kim gives him a knowing smile, and takes Chay’s hand, sliding it back under his shirt and guiding Chay’s fingers across his abdomen. He doesn’t break eye contact as he does it.

A soft pink hue spreads across Chay’s cheeks, but he continues to explore the ridges and valleys of Kim’s toned stomach. When his thumb grazes one of Kim’s pecks, Kim seems to stiffen, and Chay notices he’s holding in a breath, eyes darkening.

He likes it, Chay realises.

Feeling emboldened, he brushes his index finger over the same area while using his other hand to draw open Kim’s shirt collar, then leaning in and kissing along Kim’s collarbone.

Kim lets out a low, quiet groan and the sound creates a resonant fizz in Chay’s chest that travels steadily south.

Encouraged, he kisses the hollow of Kim’s throat and the underside of his jaw, lapping over the top of his necklaces with his tongue, wanting to taste every inch of Kim’s skin.

Chay drops his hand from Kim’s abs to cup his hip, thumb curving through the singer’s belt loops as he continues to kiss Kim’s neck. He’s always wanted to hook his thumbs into somebody’s belt loops and have it feel right and perfect, just like in the movies.

Kim’s hand suddenly slides into Chay’s hair and then he’s guiding Chay’s mouth back to his and kissing him ferociously.

Chay melts into the kiss, moaning softly from the exquisite pressure of it and the way Kim occasionally licks into his mouth. Kim’s hands are sliding through his curls, tangling in them like he’s laying claim to Chay and Chay feels lit up from the inside.

There’s no storm tonight, but he could blow apart more brilliantly than a clap of thunder from the amount of energy effervescing through him.

His entire body is made up of Kim’s touch and Kim’s scent and Kim’s taste, and he wants to stay locked in this embrace until the stars retreat home and dawn begins to weave through the sky, dipping both their bodies in pastel hues.

He wants–

Chay’s stomach gurgles loudly enough that Kim breaks off their kiss. Chay looks down mutinously, flushing when he realises that Kim’s eyes have also dropped downwards.

“Time for dessert?” Kim asks, teasing.

“Actually, I’d rather keep doing this,” Chay replies, looking at Kim’s lips, telegraphing his intent clearly.

Kim acquiesces, leaning in and kissing Chay again and Chay swears his heart sighs in response.

After a moment, Kim pulls back. Chay whines and tries to chase Kim’s lips so Kim relents and allows him one more soft peck before withdrawing and taking Chay’s hand.

Chay allows himself to be led over to the picnic blanket where their remaining food sits waiting, grumbling under his breath, “there’s more than one way to sate an appetite.”

“I’m aware,” Kim says without looking back and Chay goes scarlet at being overheard. But when Kim sits down on the blanket and uses their interlinked hands to carefully pull Chay down next to him, he’s smirking and Chay knows Kim’s thoughts were treading a similar path to his own.

Kim uncovers the sweet items on the blanket, gold lighting dancing off his necklaces and shining in his hair. Chay picks a cupcake out of the box and bites into it, revelling in the way the thick vanilla frosting explodes across his tongue. Kim, meanwhile, dips a few strawberries into cream and follows them up with a few pieces of mango.

Another cupcake and one spectacular sugar rush later, Chay helps Kim stack the boxes and cartons in neat piles in one corner of the blanket and then lies down in the middle, content and untroubled.

Out of the corner of his eye, Chay sees Kim taking off his jacket and gets a long-awaited glimpse of his biceps. They really are fantastic biceps.

Kim motions for Chay to sit up slightly so that he can slip one end of his rolled up jacket under Chay’s head. He lies down on the other end so that both their heads are pillowed on the dark denim.

Chay shuffles conspicuously closer, until his shoulder is touching Kim’s and he can feel the heat coming off the singer. He ghosts the back of his hand across the blanket, finding Kim’s hand and then sliding his fingers through Kim’s. Kim responds by flexing his fingers in Chay’s grip and then squeezing his hand comfortingly.

Tranquillity slips over them like the surface of a lake going mirror-still and they stay like that for a few minutes.

Eventually, though, Chay creates ripples on the lake. “P’Kim?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Where did you learn so much about constellations?” He can hear the curiosity in his own voice, but he can’t help it; it’s unexpected for someone like Kim, who keeps his eyes firmly on the streets of Bangkok and his hands firmly on a gun, to have so much knowledge of the stars.

There’s a long pause and Chay shifts a little, wondering if Kim isn’t going to reply. Then Kim says, “my mother taught me when I was growing up.”

Chay turns to look at Kim in surprise, eyes widening as he rolls onto his side, getting even closer to the mafia heir. In all their conversations since they met, Kim has never once mentioned his mother.

“She loved looking at the night sky,” Kim continues quietly. “She said it made her feel peaceful and it reminded her that there’s a whole world out there—a whole universe—beyond the violence of the streets around us. She would take us up here on clear nights and point out constellation after constellation. Tankhun would ask her to show him Pegasus and then complain that he couldn’t see the wings,” Kim says fondly, smiling at memories Chay can’t see.

Chay smiles too, buoyed. “She sounds lovely.”

“She was.” Kim keeps looking at the sky. “She wanted us to develop interests outside of the family business and to have safe, calm spaces where we could grow up as children, not heirs. I think that’s why…”

He trails off and Chay leans forward a little until his cheek rests lightly against the side of Kim’s torso. Kim instinctually pulls Chay into him until he’s resting fully against his chest, one arm tucked into his side, the other draped over Kim’s body.

Kim wraps both arms around Chay and Chay sighs, satisfied, as he relaxes into Kim completely. The movement and inherent trust associated with it seem to unlock the rest of Kim’s sentence.

“I think that’s why I’m drawn to this place. It reminds me of a simpler time and the good memories we had here…as well as my mother.”

“Is that why you kept stargazing?” Chay asks softly. “For her?”

He feels Kim nod against the top of his head. “It keeps the memories of her alive,” he murmurs.

Chay nuzzles further into Kim’s chest, wanting to offer him comfort, and Kim’s grip on him tightens pleasantly in response.

“I think she’d be happy that you’ve carried on her hobby and proud that you’ve become so good at it,” Chay says, drowsiness beginning to overtake him. The contentment he was feeling earlier is settling deep into his bones, cloaking him in a cosy, hazy aura.

“I’m not sure she’d be proud of me,” Kim says quietly.

“Of course she would,” Chay counters, eyes heavy and voice sleepy. “You carried on her legacy and now you’ve shared it with me too. Who wouldn’t be proud of that? And you’ve become strong, protecting those that need it. And you create music that brings happiness to people. She’d definitely be proud of you.”

As Chay finishes his sentence, his eyelids droop closed.

“Chay?” Kim asks slowly, and Chay can only hum in response as he begins to fall asleep.

Kim presses a gentle kiss to the top of his head and then whispers three small words into his hair.

Three words that glow as he breathes life into them.

Three words to outstrip the stars.

As they reach Chay and filter through into the last vestiges of his consciousness, he bolts awake, lifting himself up so he can look directly into Kim’s eyes.

“P’Kim, what did you just say?” He asks frantically, excitement and hope thrumming through him.

“I think you know,” Kim says, smiling softly.

“I want to hear it again. Please,” Chay whispers.

So Kim says it again.

“I love you, Porchay.”

“P’Kim!” Chay exclaims, delighted. He throws himself forward so he can kiss Kim, arms coming to rest around Kim’s neck.

Kim’s own arms return to Chay’s back, cradling him against his chest as their lips meet.

Chay kisses Kim with all the tender affection that’s rushing through his body, wanting Kim to know just how much he loves him too.

And he can tell that Kim understands, because he kisses back Chay like he’s unlocked something within himself and is finally, finally coming home.

They stay like that for hours, tucked in each other’s embrace, hearts full. Overhead, the stars look on, their light cascading through the clear night sky in ribbons of silver. No hint of a storm can be found.