Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Billkin tugs on the stiff collar of his dress shirt like it would do anything to relieve him from the suffocating feeling in his lungs. It really was ridiculous how such a large, grand room, with so much open space and high ceilings, could make him feel like there wasn’t enough oxygen to go around. He fiddles with his champagne flute as he eyes the fake laughs and plastic smiles around the room. Who knew puppets and dolls needed to breathe?

He hates feeling like one of these puppets, and he desperately wants to cut those strings and bolt straight out the room.

“Ah, Khun Billkin!” a man calls out from behind him.

He turns around to see the man who called out his name—a middle aged man with ruddy cheeks and a pot belly, not saved from the vices of male pattern baldness if the obviously false wig on his head was any indicator. A lady young enough to be his daughter stands next to him with their arms linked, though Billkin highly doubts they have a father-daughter relationship. 

Next to the couple, Billkin’s father stands tall and domineering, and one look from him tells Billkin that this man is an important business partner that they cannot afford to upset. In simple words: don’t fuck this up.

So they go through the motions, just like with the dozens of other ‘important business partners’. Billkin knows his role, has known since he was just a boy, and he always plays his part perfectly.

Billkin is the only child of the wealthy Assaratanakul family. Their family owns one of the largest business empires in Thailand, making them also one of the richest families in the country. Name a company, brand or organisation, the Assaratanakul family probably has a stake in it.

It sounds like the life everyone wants to have—riches beyond your imagination, everything you want in the snap of a finger—but there are things you simply can’t buy with money, and the coldness and emptiness of Billkin’s life is a testament to that.

His father guides him to approach another family here at the gathering, whispering in his ear something about ‘tapping into a new industry’ and them being the key to it. Billkin doesn’t pay much attention at first but the strong grip his father has on his arm snaps him to attention. Whoever this family was, they were clearly important, more important than anyone else here. 

The two men of the family turn around as they approach.

“Good evening, Khun Assaratanakul,” the older man, presumably the father, of the family greeted.

“Good evening, Khun Amnuaydechkorn. This is my son, Billkin,” his father responds, gesturing to his son.

Billkin offers a deep wai to both members, and the two older men dissolve into a conversation he can’t help but tune out. 

The haze of his daydream is permeated by the feeling of eyes on his face. The world comes back into focus as he blinks and he’s met with two round, brown eyes staring at him. Billkin almost wants to look away because why the hell was the son of the Amnuaydechkorn family staring so pointedly at him? If there was one thing everyone in this room practiced it was the art of subtlety but clearly this boy didn’t get the memo.

Amongst these greedy bastards, a pointed gaze hardly meant anything good. People—though Billkin thinks calling them humans is far too gracious—looked at each other with poorly hidden malice, all predators with glinting eyes looking for the time to strike. But there was something about the look the other was fixing on him that made Billkin believe he wasn’t trying to size him up for a fight. 

Billkin doesn’t know why he does it. Maybe he was bored out of his mind or something, but instead of averting the other boy’s gaze, he decides to meet that stare head on because he might as well give as good as he gets.

The reaction he gets is not one he was expecting. The other boy’s eyes widen even more and a blush rushes high on his cheeks at the realisation he was caught. He quickly looks down at his feet like the points of his shoes were suddenly the most interesting thing ever. 

Huh. 

He can’t explain why but the encounter leaves Billkin a little bit dishevelled and he washes it away with a sip of champagne, but over the rim of the glass, he can’t help but notice how the boy’s eyelashes flutter against his cheeks as he looks at the ground.

***

The night air is cool against his skin as Billkin steps out onto the balcony of the venue. It’s a different place this time; different people and yet they might as well have all been the same. He unbuttons his collar before leaning both his palms on the banister, willing it to support his weight because his legs are honestly tired of the job. He glances at the ashtray on top of the banister. Billkin wasn’t a smoker but he really could go for a light right now.

“Rough night?” a voice calls out from behind him.

He turns to see the vaguely familiar face of the boy he met only once several months ago. He stands meekly at the threshold of the balcony like he was too afraid to disrupt the bubble of Billkin’s privacy. Any other time Billkin would be peeved, the presence of others usually meant more fake smiles and having to listen to the grating noise of people kissing each other’s asses. It takes him by surprise that he even recognises the boy since he usually forgets the faces of most of the people he meets at these galas.

But there was something about him that sticks to Billkin’s mind and he’s struck momentarily by flashes of flushed cheeks and fluttering eyelashes against skin.

“Isn’t it always?” Billkin responds, turning back to look out into the night sky. He wishes there were stars but there was too much light pollution in the city to see any anyways, “I didn’t know you were here tonight.”

“I honestly wished I wasn’t,” the other boy chuckles and comes to stand next to him.

Billkin gives an understanding nod, he very much echoed the sentiment, “Y’know, l never got your name.” 

His nameless companion smiles and Billkin is envious of how the other manages to still look fresh and put together despite the gala going on for about three hours now. He was dressed in a flowy white dress shirt with strips of fabric hanging from the sleeves and a black blazer on top. Billkin marvels at how there wasn’t a wrinkle in sight, his own shirt abused from all the constant tugging and pulling he had subjected it to. He was even wearing heeled shoes that made Billkin’s feet hurt just imagining standing in those for such a long time. 

“I’m PP. You’re Billkin, right?”

Oh? Guess he remembers me too, Billkin thinks.

He nods and gives his newfound friend a smile, a real one this time, probably the only real one he’s given anyone this evening. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Chapter Text

A knock on the door startles Billkin from his sleep. His head is still fuzzy and pounding from the effects of alcohol and fatigue from last night. He glances at the clock on his nightstand, the numbers 7:30 flashing back at him. Ugh, what now?

“Good morning sir, your father wishes to see you in his office,” the family butler, P’Peng, calls from outside the door. 

Billkin sighs, “Ok P’, I’ll be there in a minute.”

We’re not even gonna have breakfast huh, he thinks distantly before kicking the covers off to get out of bed. 

***

Billkin enters his father’s office warily like he was venturing into a lion’s den. The room was fit for a person of his father’s age and character, with half a forest’s worth of custom made wooden furniture, all polished like brand new but with dated designs. The interior design was very much influenced by Chinese culture, no doubt to pay homage to their family’s Chinese heritage. Two upholstered leather sofas and a coffee table sit on top of a plush carpet in the middle of the room. And at the far end, with a beautiful canvas of Chinese calligraphy as his backdrop, his father sits at his large oak desk—a mighty king on top of his wooden throne.

“Good morning, father. You wanted to see me?” Billkin greets with a wai. 

“Yes, son. I’m sure you remember we’ve been trying to go into a joint venture with the Amnuaydechkorn family,” his father responds, straight down to business as always.

Billkin nods. The Amnuaydechkorn family was the leader in the hotel management industry. They’ve opened many branches across Thailand and all were successful 5-star establishments. Billkin’s father had been trying to tap into the industry for a while now, looking to expand from just estates.

“Well, we’ve signed the deal. This’ll be the start of a new empire!” his father boasts, leaning back in his chair with his arms spread. A prideful smile on his face, one that his own son rarely sees. Billkin admits he’s impressed. He had heard the other family had been reluctant to go into this, but of course, the leader of the Assaratanakul family had succeeded.

“That’s great news. Congratulations, fath-,”

“I want you to oversee the project.”

His father’s sudden declaration rings in the vast space of his office, and Billkin feels the room’s temperature drop. He looks his father in the eye, and 25 years of being his son tells him that it wasn’t a request, it was a demand. ‘No’ was not an option.

Because Billkin’s father was nothing if not perceptive. You don’t get to where the man is without having a sharp eye. And contrary to what outsiders might think, he knows his son. He knows that Billkin doesn’t care much for the business, for the expansion of their empire, for networking with Thailand’s wealthiest; that he’s not cut out for the cunning tactics people use to outsmart one another, or the cutthroat lengths they go to to get what they want. 

He knows Billkin would very much prefer to stay out of the business. But he was his only son, the heir to his empire, and he’ll be damned if he lets his life’s work be ruined because of his only son’s incompetence. 

This project was a test, one that Billkin better damn well pass.

Billkin drops his gaze and bows deeply, “Of course, father. I would be honoured.”

***

Billkin tries not to squirm as he sits on the uncomfortable chair in the meeting room. This is going to be the first of many, many dreadful meetings that he will have to sit through until the joint venture is successfully completed. And he can already feel the headache get stronger as more people fill the room. 

He might be the son and heir of the Assaratanakul family, but he knows the wild animals in the room eye him like a fresh piece of meat, that behind their well-polished smiles is a mouth full of teeth just waiting to tear him apart. They would all very much prefer if he was out of the picture so they could take his place. 

He looks down at his lap and tries to focus on his breathing to calm his nerves.

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale…

“Ah welcome, Khun Amnuaydechkorn. We’re honoured to have you here,” his father speaks up from beside him. 

“Happy to be here. My son will be joining us today as well,” the other man replies. 

His eyes shoot up as the older man steps aside from the door. PP walks in, once again looking like he belongs on a runway rather than in an office. He offers a wai to everyone in the room before settling his eyes on the seated boy. 

He gives Billkin a small, private smile. And Billkin feels like he’s in on a little secret somehow, even though they barely know each other well enough to have any secrets. The noise around him fades away as he’s in the line of sight of those warm brown eyes. It was hard to explain why he felt any sense of comfort, but maybe it was because he felt that at least one person here wasn’t expecting something of him. 

They all settle down for the meeting and Billkin never notices the little glances PP throws his way the whole time. 

***

The chair creaks as Billkin leans back against it, and he’s almost grateful for the way the sound masks that of his back cracking. Distantly, he thinks he must be getting old. And for a moment he wonders if he would end up just like his father. Would he be able to fill his father’s shoes? Was taking his father’s place even what he wanted? Would he ever be more than just his father’s successor? He had always wanted to be ‘just like dad’ when he was a kid, but with every year that passes, he begins to doubt more and more if this life really was for him. 

The rest of the people in the meeting room had left an hour ago, but Billkin had felt unprepared to join them. He was supposed to be the leader of this project and yet he felt miles behind everyone else in the room, and so had resorted to burying his arms in the paperwork, until the words on the pages had blurred like a mirage. 

He finally steps out of the building to get some fresh air. As he pushes open the doors to the balcony, he sees a familiar figure standing along the edge and the sight makes him chuckle. 

“We have got to stop meeting like this,” he calls out to the other boy. 

PP turns around and his eyes light up when he sees Billkin standing there. And once again, that unexplainable sense of comfort washes through him when he sees the bright eyed boy smile at him. It was like the weight from that gruelling meeting just an hour ago fell off his shoulders. 

“I mean I’m not complaining,” PP aims a cheeky smile at him. He holds out a cup of coffee towards him, which Billkin looks at with surprise before taking it. “You looked like you needed it,” PP explained. 

“That obvious, huh?”

“I was convinced you had a stick up your ass the whole time, not gonna lie.”

“I did not look like that…”

PP makes a noise like he disagrees but doesn’t argue further. And Billkin realises just how long it has been since he’s had a conversation with someone that hasn’t been about work or business, or an effort to network or kiss someone’s ass. It was just simple banter and yet it sorely reminded him of what he had been missing in his life. 

A tiny point of pressure in between his brows snaps him out of his thoughts. 

“Stop thinking,” PP says while pushing the frown out of his brow, “I can literally see the cogs turning.”

Billkin steps back, taken aback by the other’s touch, to which PP realises and quickly rushes to apologise.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“No no, it’s fine really…”

The conversation dies out and Billkin curses himself for making things uncomfortable. Although they’ve only met a few times, PP was the closest thing he had to a friend right now, and he realises desperately that he doesn’t want to lose that. 

“Um, how come you’re here today by the way?” he asks. 

“Dad just wanted me to see how things are done and give some input if I can. Same old, same old, you know how it is.”

Billkin nods. Of course he does. 

“And what about you, Mr. Project Leader?” PP continues, “How’s it like calling the shots?” 

“Pfft, please. We both know I’m not the one calling the shots here. There’s so many things to plan and do and I feel like a lost man pretending I know the way.” 

“Well, I thought you had quite a well-prepared proposal, no?”

Billkin sighs and shakes his head, “You don’t know my father. I could tell by the look on his face that he was less than impressed. I’ll probably have to face him about it soon…” He goes back to staring distantly into space, no doubt lost in his thoughts again. 

PP stares at his friend sympathetically and reaches to grab the other’s hand. But just before he can touch it, he holds back, hovering his hand over the other’s. He hesitates for a moment before slapping the back of Billkin’s hand. “Hey! We’ll figure this out.”

“ We? ”

“Yeah, two of us, of course! I mean I’m no better at this than you are, but at least you’ll have someone who understands. It takes one to know one, doesn’t it? You and I aren’t so different.”

PP tilts his chin upwards like he’s made his case and sealed the deal. 

Yeah , Billkin thinks, we’ll figure this out.