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Chapter Text

He'd been in his final year of high school, lonely and vulnerable, and so homesick. Nothing tasted right, nothing felt right, and everything seemed to be falling apart, his life tearing at the seams.

He fought his inner thoughts daily, desperate to return home but equally as desperate to achieve his dreams, to eventually become an architect and provide for his father.

A chaotic night out drinking with his friends, after a bad day, had introduced them, and waking up in his bed had cemented Sky as his.

His name was Gun, apt for the expert way in which he used Sky's emotions like a weapon, the way he fired loaded question after loaded question, the way he forced Sky into submission.

The first two weeks, though, had felt like a dream. The attention Gun gave, affirmations and compliments flowing easily from what Sky now knows to be a purposefully concealed forked tongue. Hands which once caressed his skin in a gentle reverence, are now his barbarous punishment, sending him black and blue, cultivating his obedience.

Four months was all it took for Gun to grow bored of him. Four months was all it took before he was whispering sweet nothings of threesomes and BDSM, and how happy Sky could make him, how much Gun could love him, if Sky just tried a little harder.

So, he agrees. Naïvety and puppy love outweighing all rational and sane thought. That night two of Gun's friends come over to the apartment, already smirking, and Sky tries to back out. Tries to leave, begs Gun to stop, to postpone, says anything he can to avoid the inevitable.

Gun smacks him hard across the face, pinning him to the wall with a strong hand over his nose and mouth, stifling his breath. He talks of embarrassment, talks of Sky's love for showing him up in front of his friends. He insists Sky needs to make it up to him, to prove his loyalty, his love.

And Sky does. He succumbs to Gun's words, his promises, lets them touch him, lets them strip him of his clothes, lets Gun brush the tears from his face with a malicious snigger.

He lets them lie him on his back on the bed, sobs as he's forced to take them one by one, covers his face with shaking hands from the pure shame of it. But Gun has other ideas about that, he says Sky has to look, forces him by his wrists, pinning them to the bed with bruising fingers as his friend forces his way inside.

After, he can't stop seeing their goading smiles inside his head, can't stop hearing their jeering taunts and heavy moans, can't stop the bile that rises up in his throat when he remembers cleaning their combined release from inside of himself.

His mind replays the night over and over again. Every time he closes his eyes to sleep, every time he thinks to relax, every time Gun touches him.

Through it all Sky continues his studies, determined, stubborn, taking control in the one aspect Gun hasn't slithered his way into. He gains entry to his first choice of university, and Gun claims himself gracious enough to allow him to attend.

On the first day he meets Rain, a chipper extrovert with a ditsy flair. Sky likes him, though resolves to keep his distance. Rain, on the hand, has no such qualms about getting as close to Sky as possible. Emotionally and physically.

Several weeks later, when he arrives to collect him from university, Rain introduces Sky to his boyfriend Phayu. A biker and successful architect, who practically has dominant tattooed on his forehead. Sky wonders at the dynamics of their relationship, scowls at Phayu’s insistent hands on Rain's body, persistent fingers carding through his hair.

Then, Gun is there wearing his calm and placid mask, introducing himself like the perfect, desirable boyfriend he plays so well. Making easy small talk with Phayu, sharing the fact that he's seen him race at some private track in the not so distant past. Sky fights at not flinching, his whole body tight as a bow string, hands clenching at his bag handles, knuckles pure white.

When they get home Gun has already begun his punishment. The silent treatment in the car enough to have Sky's stomach roiling.

“Who the hell was he?” Gun asks as soon as they're inside the apartment.

“Rain's boyfriend” Sky replies, attempting to hide the tremor in his voice by nonchalantly setting his bag on a dining chair.

“Rain's boyfriend? But not your boyfriend, right? Did I give you permission to speak with a senior? You want to fuck him, don't you?” He laughs, mean and spiteful, “you're such a whore” he spits.

Sky bites his tongue, knows the questions are rhetorical, knows the name calling is pure provocation, knows there's no answer he can give to placate him. Sky knows him inside and out, not through a desperate gnawing love, but through all consuming fear.

“You're my toy, Sky. Mine!” he shouts, advancing on him, making Sky jump, and forcing his pointer finger into Sky's face, “say it” he demands, his teeth bared.

Sky takes a shaking inhale, “I'm your toy” he says, nearly a whisper, looking down at their feet, just inches apart.

He flinches with a gasp when Gun suddenly wraps his arms around him, “good boy. Why do you act out so much, huh?” he asks, voice soothing, rubbing at Sky's back as if that alone could comfort him.

Closing his eyes, Sky wills the tears to stay beneath his eyelids, desperate to shield them from Gun's prying gaze. He can't risk them falling, his tears being Gun's least or most favourite thing dependent upon his whim.

And that's how time came and went, three years of sky's life eaten up by this selfish man. A man he's desperate to be free from, a man he can't stop himself from loving.

Chapter Text

Later that night, when Gun's friends arrive, Sky doesn't fight. He lets them manhandle him and treat him like a ragdoll, pulling him this way and that, whilst he lets himself float.

He floats from his body, his mind travelling far away from the mess of his life, escaping their rough hands and wet mouths, their haunting smiles and avaricious eyes.

He lies in the dishevelled bed for a long while after, the aching of the bruises forming along his skin pulling him back to himself, demanding his attention.

Swiping angrily at the tears sliding down his temples and into his hairline, he sits, wincing as he shuffles his body carefully from the bed.

Using the ensuite bathroom, he showers, breaking down in tears as soon as the soothing spray of the warm water hits him, holding down sobs to avoid being heard. He checks for blood several times at the crown of his head, though it just seems to be bruised from the tugging of his hair to control him.

After, when his skin is dried and a towel sits around his waist, he stares into the fogged up mirror, eyes trailing over each mark they've left. Every mottled bruise, every indent of teeth, every bright pink scratch on his pale skin.

He looks down at his wrists, at the fingerprints burned into the flesh there, and closes his eyes, “it's done. You're okay” he pacifies in a whisper.

And of course it is done, they've had their fun for today. He just has to build back his walls for the next time, has to fortify and strengthen his resolve. He can do it. He has to. He'll break if he doesn't. He'll crumble into a million pieces, irreparable, completely broken beyond repair.

When he's treated his wounds and gotten dressed he moves quietly to the bedroom door, listening. The silence on the other side is almost deafening, but he wonders then if they're playing a trick, luring him out to play another game they've had in mind.

Several long minutes pass before he finally takes a breath and opens the bedroom door, peeking out into the darkness of the empty apartment.

Satisfied that Gun and his friends are gone, Sky makes his way to the dining table, lifts his bag from where he left it and takes it to the study, closing the door behind him.

If he doesn't get this project finished, he'll fail. Just like Gun told him he would. That thought alone is enough to make him work harder.

He doesn't sleep all night, holds his breath when Gun stumbles back home in the early hours of the morning, only beginning to breathe again when he hears the muffled snores of him deep in sleep.

In the morning he is a knight in a dragon hoard, his clothes are gold and jewels, washing and dressing quickly and quietly so as not to wake Gun, an easy mission with the years of experience he has.

The stench of alcohol permeates the room, alongside body odour and cigarette smoke. The evidence of Gun's late night thick in the air.

After they finish classes that Sky was barely able to keep his eyes open for, exhausted from the events of the night before and his long study session, they arrive at one of their favourite cafés.

They order drinks, and Rain orders way too much food, then they make their way to a table in the window and take their seats.

Sky pushes his hair back with his fingers and lets out a breath, feeling weak and jittery, having survived entirely on energy drinks and coffee for around 36 hours.

“Have you finished your construction project?” Rain asks, taking a bite from the oversized cake pop he bought at the counter.

With a shake of his head Sky replies, “no, not yet”.

“Really?” Rain asks, nearly choking on cake crumbs in confusion.

Sky licks his lower lip, “I dropped it, so I need to repair it” he says with a sigh, turning his head to look out of the window.

Of course he wouldn't dare to tell anyone what really happened, that in a jealous rage Gun hurled the piece at the wall, shattering it. That Gun had made him pick up every single piece and put them straight into the bin, threatening Sky's attempts to salvage any parts that remained intact.

“Oh, no!” Rain cries, then, with a gasp, his face brightens, “I could help you!” he suggests, ecstatic at his apparently brilliant idea.

Before Sky can respond, Phayu pulls up outside, his super bike a loud and obnoxious announcement of his arrival.

Rain grabs at Sky's wrist in excitement, causing him to let out an embarrassing yelp, putting a deep frown onto Rain's face, “what is it? Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He scrabbles, like a puppy attempting to please it's owner.

Sky pushes his chair back a little with a forced laugh, “I'm fine. You didn't hurt me” he asserts.

“Let me see” Rain insists, tugging at the cuff of Sky's long sleeved shirt.

Panicked, Sky yanks his arm away, “I said I'm fine, Rain” he chastises, deepening the frown already marring Rain's forehead.

“What's going on here?” Phayu asks, as he makes his way towards their table, a mix of confusion and concern in his voice.

“Nothing” Sky says, rising from his seat, “I should go”.

Rain jumps up, “Sky, I'm sorry, please stay”.

Sky's heart squeezes in his chest. He wishes he could deny him, and maybe he could if he really tried, but he can't stand to see the dejected look on Rain's face.

He sighs, knowing full well what he's risking by sitting back down. He does it anyway, pulling the chair back under the table after, “okay, okay, I'm staying” he says, placating.

Ten or so minutes later, a tall, well dressed man enters the building. The suit he wears is an alluring burgundy, overtop a black slim fit shirt, the top buttons open to reveal the golden skin of his upper chest.

Fuck, he's handsome, Sky thinks, unhelpfully, turning his head to avoid the eye contact this new stranger is working hard at making. And boy doesn't he know it, his mind supplies, as he sends an internal eye roll through the window to the plants sat on the patio outside.

Phayu stands to greet the man with a brief hug, “Sky, this is Prapai, my friend” he says, returning to his seat next to Rain.

“Mm” Sky hums, noncommittal, glancing at Prapai but ultimately keeping his gaze lowered, eyeing his coffee.

Prapai huffs a little laugh, joining them at the table beside Sky, their knees nearly touching.

Sky can practically feel the heat radiating from Prapai’s skin. He should leave, feign some appointment or other and run. He doesn't though, he stays, seated beside Prapai, their knees bumping occasionally as he speaks animatedly.

He barely hears a word, Prapai's hands a beautiful distraction, that slither of skin at his chest that he's almost certainly purposely revealing, the dimples at his cheeks. Sky almost laughs out loud when he realises the parallels between his meeting with Gun, the way Sky thought him so charming and attractive, though Gun definitely had his tongue down Sky's throat by now.

This guy, this playboy, probably uses the same tricks. He probably has a list of conquests a mile long, he's probably just as rough. All smiles and charisma on the outside, putrid and repugnant on the inside. Sky moves his legs closer together, shifting his knee away from Prapai's.

If Gun saw him now, he might kill him. Hell, he might kill them all just for being there. The thought is sobering, and he forces himself to stand, “anyway, I have something I have to do. See you on Monday, Rain” he says, adding a quick wai to his seniors before making his way from the café.

Rain attempts to stop him, getting tongue tied in the process, making Sky feel a little bad about leaving, but he doesn't stop. Can't stop, not until he's back at the apartment and far away from Prapai.

By the time he makes it back, there's a message from Gun on his phone.

I'm away this weekend. Be good. If you're not, I'll know about it.

He scoffs, “I love you too” he says aloud, to the empty room, and tosses his phone onto the kitchen counter. He takes a deep breath, before leaning forward and pressing his forehead to the cool marble, joining his phone on the countertop, “it could be a trick” he says aloud again and closes his eyes.

What a way to live, he thinks, before dragging himself to the study to work on his project.

Gun, in fact, doesn't return that night, and Sky falls asleep at his desk only to be woken at 8am by a text from Rain, inviting him out for lunch with him and Phayu.

He frowns, reading the text over and over, reading between the lines, then creating new lines and reading between them too.

In the end, he leaves the message on read, locking his phone and heading to the bathroom for a shower, and to get ready for the day.

Chapter Text

He lies on his back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, his phone sitting on his chest, the conversation with Gun open on the screen, his own messages left on read.

Not for the first time he wonders what he's doing here, wonders what love is, and if this is really it for the rest of his life.

His eyes slip closed, a tear escaping down into his hairline, causing him to let out a harsh sob of a laugh, self-deprecating and dispirited.

“You're pathetic. That's why you're still here” he says to himself, turning his head quickly towards the door when the intercom buzzer sounds.

Frowning, he rises from the bed, swiping his sleeves across his eyes as he makes his way to the door. He watches the intercom video, his mouth dropping open in surprise, “what the fuck..” he whispers. Then, more panicked, “what the fuck?”

He presses the speaker button, “what are you doing here, Rain?” He asks, trying to let annoyance override the fear in his voice.

“I'm checking on you. You seemed.. sad yesterday”.

Sky watches Rain look over his shoulder then back to the camera, “come out for lunch with us. We want to cheer you up”. His smile is a beaming ray of midday sun, too hot, burning at Sky's sensitive skin.

It occurs to him then that Gun could be watching this remotely, and the thought has his stomach dropping down to the apartment below, nausea overtaking his senses. He gulps down the bile rising in his throat, “just give me a minute. Don't come up” he insists.

Rain frowns but nods in agreement before Sky cuts off the call.

“Fuck” Sky mutters, as he quickly checks his appearance in the mirror hanging by the door. He pulls a face, disgusted, and shakes his head, “fuck, for sure” he says on a sigh.

He slips on a pair of shoes, checks for his phone in his pocket and makes his way downstairs, tugging at his sleeves to cover his hands as far as they'll stretch.

In the elevator he grips the handrail as he watches the numbers light up on his way down, tips his head back and breathes out a harsh breath as sweat prickles at the back of his neck. He forces himself to breathe through the sudden lightheadedness.

Thankfully, by the time he arrives downstairs it has passed, and he walks out to greet Rain and Phayu.

When he arrives in the foyer, Rain hugs him tight. Sky awkwardly pats at his back a few times, holding down the wince his body wants to let out from the pressure against the bruises marring his skin.

The thing that hurts the most though, is that Rain thinks he's doing good. He thinks he's helping Sky in some way, lifting his spirits. It hurts Sky's heart to know how far he is from the truth. Sky's almost certain there will be a price to pay for this ‘pick me up’ lunch. He tries not to imagine what the cost will be, tries not to think of rough, roving hands and painful punishments.

The whole thing feels like déjà vu, Sky sat opposite Rain across a café table, Phayu to Rain's side. Rain watching him with big, round eyes, a picture of innocence despite Sky knowing exactly what he and Phayu get up to.

“Did you manage to finish your project?” Rain asks.

Sky nods, “eventually. Early this morning”.

He feels Phayu's eyes on him but can't stand to meet his gaze, doesn't know if he'll like what he sees there. It's much easier just addressing Rain, pretending Phayu is just an extra piece of furniture.

By the time Prapai arrives Sky's heart is pounding hard in his chest, the clammy pinpricks of a cold sweat forming at the nape of his neck, and travelling down his spine.

Prapai sits beside him, a wide smile at his lips, displaying every perfect tooth, and Sky makes the mistake of looking at him. Really looking at him. His smile seems to be so genuine and warm, he appears relaxed and easy going, oozing a confidence erring on cocky, allowing him to lean back casually in his seat.

His face possesses none of the meanness that Gun's does, that hateful look or splenetic smirk. He hides it better, Sky realises, sending goosebumps rising over his skin.

He sips at his water, wondering why he didn't just make an excuse to avoid this situation entirely. He could be back at the apartment sleeping off his late night, or working on assignments. Instead, he's here, playing at being friends with people who will never truly know him.

He smiles a little at Rain's silly jokes, allows Phayu and Prapai to serve him as they act out their roles of good seniors, tries to swallow mouthfuls of food against queasiness that only seems to worsen the more time he sits there.

Unable to hide it any longer he cradles his head a little in his hand, his elbow on the table, taking a deep breath, the room spinning, sending his stomach churning. He forces his eyes closed and breathes deeply again.

When Prapai places a gentle hand to Sky's sweat soaked shirt, he jerks, startled. Though the resolute hand remains, Prapai's expression is one of analysis, curious and concerned in its searching.

He moves to stand, “I just..” he says, his words dying in his throat as he has to reach out to grip the edge of the table.

“Sky?” Rain says in concern, pushing himself from his chair.

Prapai stands, a soft, steadfast hand still pressed to Sky's lower back, his other hand wrapping around Sky's forearm, “you okay?” He asks, “sit back down, take a breath” he continues, helping Sky to retake his seat.

“I'll get some more water” Rain says, him and Phayu leaving the table.

“Sorry, I..” Sky starts.

“Don't apologise, you're okay” Prapai replies, stroking over Sky's back before opening a nearly empty bottle of water to refill Sky's glass.

A lump rises in Sky's throat. Had he ever been taken care of like this by anyone who wasn't his dad? The thought makes his cheeks heat, reminding him how completely pathetic and unloveable he truly is.

“I'm fine, really” Sky says as he takes the proffered glass, the embarrassment itching at his skin like raw wool.

Prapai nods a little, “just let us take care of you”.

“I have a boyfriend for that” Sky says plainly, as if Gun had ever truly taken care of him. He's not even sure what possesses him to say it, other than the fact that a need to defend their relationship brewed from his previous favourable look at Prapai.

Prapai just laughs, “so you're not allowed friends?” he asks in jest.

Sky's head snaps towards him. It's a joke, he realises, heart suddenly in his throat, brain already processing some excuse or other to exonerate Gun.

The smile falls slowly from Prapai's lips as his eyes search Sky's expression, before pinning Sky's own.

“Sky..” he says, concern a little too present in his tone, forcing that lump to rise up futher into Sky's throat.

He forces a laugh, “who said I want you as a friend?” He asks, looking away, back towards his hands where they sit in his lap.

Before Prapai can respond, Rain appears with more water, “are you feeling better?” He wonders, looming over Sky with a small, warm smile and a juxtaposing frown.

Sky nods a little, “I should go back home”.

Prapai stands, “I'll drive you” he offers.

“No, no, I'm fine. The bus..” he says, trailing off with the weight of all six of their eyes on him.

“Come on” Prapai says, lifting Sky gently from the seat, one hand at his lower back and the other at his elbow, “carefully now” he instructs, the protective heat of his hands burning into Sky's skin.

And somehow he allows it to happen. Now he's in another man's car, alone. If everything else didn't have murder on Gun's mind then this would certainly put it there.

He can't help but wipe his sweaty palms against his jean-clad thighs, worry building dangerously at his core, nervous energy with nowhere to go. He curls his fingers into fists to hide the shake in them, blinking several times to suppress the pressure building behind his eyes.

Prapai glances over at him as he drives, a line of worry nestled between his eyebrows as he taps his thumb against the steering wheel, “feeling okay?” He asks, glancing at Sky again.

“Don't worry, I won't throw up in your precious car” Sky says, sardonically, with bite.

With a scoff of a laugh, Prapai shakes his head, “I don't care about that. I care about you”.

Sky jolts, turning to look at him, and quickly turning back to the road after Prapai meets his gaze.

“You really don't have to come all the way up to the door” Sky insists as Prapai finally pulls up in front of the apartment block. “You shouldn't be here at all” he mutters as he undoes his seatbelt.

“What do you mean I shouldn't be here?” Prapai questions with a frown.

Sky shakes his head, “nothing” he says pushing open the door, “nevermind. Forget I said that” he continues, with a forced breath of a laugh. “Thanks for the lift” he says as he slides out of the passenger seat, quickly walking away, leaving a confused Prapai in his wake.

Chapter Text

When Gun finally returns home, Sky is in the kitchen picking at a box of pad kee mao that he ordered for lunch but never got around to eating.

He turns, smiling when he sees him, “hey, you're back” he says, making his way towards him, assessing each reaction to see which version of Gun has come back to him, to see which version of himself he should be.

“I'm back” Gun agrees and grips his fingers over Sky's hips, pulling him closer.

Sky hides the flinch as best he can at the sudden possessive hold. His body tensing up at the conditioned expectation of pain, of violence.

Gun laughs a little, “so timid. Didn't you miss me?” He asks, teasing, danger laced through each of his teeth.

The hair on the back of Sky's neck prickles, the worry spiking fear deep in his stomach. Though he matches Gun's easy smile, a practised mask to overlay his fear, still so desperate for Gun's gentle touch, his earnest declaration of love. “Of course I missed you. You know I missed you” Sky insists, pressing closer, his hand curling up to cup his palm to the back of Gun's neck, his fingers threaded through the hair at his nape.

Finally, Gun kisses him. Though it's rougher than Sky would like, demanding in all the ways Sky hates. He takes it anyway, takes it all, takes everything Gun gives, because it is him. Because he wants nothing more than to please him.

The biting kiss does nothing to soothe Sky's want, his need for the intimacy he craves that he's not willing to let go of just yet.

Then Gun is pushing him towards the bedroom, pushing his tongue eagerly into Sky's mouth, pushing Sky's fear higher.

Maybe this time it will be different, Sky can't help but think, maybe this time we'll make love, maybe this time it won't hurt.

And the hurt, he knows, is temporary. The physical part is nothing he can't handle, nothing he hasn't dealt with for years now. It's the emotional blow he can't begin to reconcile with, the mental torment of Gun's twisted, toxic love.

Can it truly be love? He certainly has no desire to cause Gun such pain or anguish as he inflicts on Sky. But Gun is complicated, and Gun has a list of problems and insecurities a mile long.

Sky has seen the way Gun's father treats him, seen him raise his hand and strike it against a pouting cheek. He's seen the stoic way Gun gets after any amount of time spent at his father's side, right before his blazing temper erupts from its well-warmed nest.

Control is fought for in their household. Fought for and won, standing atop the blood and bone, and viscera of the people you claim to love, and who can't help but love you.

Gun is only a product of his environment, and this is all he knows, forcing Sky into this wholly unwelcome game of control, of push and pull. The mind games are even worse though, and Sky knows he can never truly win at those. But soothing anger, and smoothing the edges of threatening words of hate and ridicule have become Sky's hard won sword and shield, a way of gentle defense. Gun has taught him that, at least. Has seasoned him, has hardened his shell, a protective layer overtop his vulnerable underbelly.

His clothes are torn off and discarded, no care as to where they fall or whether Sky even wants this at all. Though he knows he hasn't said no.

A firm palm to his chest has him bouncing down onto the mattress, Gun climbing up after him, and he knows he doesn't want this, but he knows he hasn't said no.

He can't. The last thing he wants are new bruises and a fight that lasts into the early hours of the morning.

Two projects sit in the office waiting for him, to be handed in at university the next day. This is no time to test the limits of Gun's self-control.

Gun reaches for the bedside table, pulling open the drawer to retrieve the bottle of lube stashed there.

Sky's breaths come quicker, not from a lust filled passion, or desperation, or want. Fear is the only thing that has him trembling where he lies. Fear of pain and hurt and, worst of all, the fear of upsetting Gun, sending him on a hate-fuelled rampage with smashed glass littering the space, and crimson welts rising up across Sky's skin.

He coats two fingers before reaching between Sky's legs to stretch him out, careless and perfunctory.

When he removes his fingers, Sky's breath catches in his throat, a clawing hopelessness twining recklessly with hopeful despair.

“A little more” he begs, keeping his voice sweet and submissive, “another finger”.

Gun just laughs, “so bossy” he says on a chuckle, lining himself up, the head of his cock pressing insistently at Sky's hole.

Sky exhales, slow and steady, tipping his head back and trying to relax every muscle in his body, trying to want what Gun is offering.

Squeezing his lids closed against the tears prickling at his eyes, he chastises himself for expecting anything less, for wanting gentle love making, for somehow always forgetting how this goes.

He's forgiven him so many times. Forgiven the words, the kicks, the punches, forgiven the sharing and the times Sky said no. Somehow all he knows is how to forgive, and somehow nothing ever changes.

Gun pushes inside, despite the resistance, and Sky screws up his face against the sharp ache of it. The hot sting of stretched flesh at the callous and unpleasant intrusion.

The whimper that manages to push its way up from Sky's chest and escape out through his nose has Gun burying his face eagerly into Sky's neck.

“You know I love when you're like this for me” Gun coos, “when you're good” he adds, a heated thrill in his voice, intermittently sucking harsh kisses into Sky's throat, “when you do as you're told”.

Sky nods a little, his arms lying limp at his sides as he wills himself away from the room, away from the apartment, away from the city.

He pretends he's wandering up the garden path at his father's house, the sweet heady smell of Tea Olive and Jasmine blossoms mingling in the humid air, the Pandan leaves tickling at his calves as he approaches the house.

Then Gun is slapping at his cheek, looming down over him with a cruel grin exposing malicious teeth, “no drifting away, Sky” he demands as a hard thrust forces a pained gasp from Sky's mouth, “I want you here with me”.

All Sky can do is nod, and speak a small, barely there whisper, “I'm here”.

It's not long before Gun is spilling inside of him, pulling out harshly before thumbing at the sore and swollen skin of Sky's hole, “you didn't even bleed, you can be such a drama queen”, he laughs, as Sky sucks a wince between clenched teeth.

When Gun leaves the bedroom for the ensuite, sky covers his face with both hands, muffling the sob that he can't keep contained to his chest. Then he swipes his fingers across both of his eyes, smearing the wetness into his hairline before gingerly rising from the bed.

He's not sure why, but, as he slips on his dressing gown, the message tone from Gun's abandoned jeans draws his attention, enough so that he delicately removes the phone from the back pocket of the fashionably worn denim, and unlocks it.

What he finds is not entirely unexpected but his heart clenches in his chest anyway, compounding just how useless and undeserving he really is.

The still of the video on the screen only shows Gun from behind, but Sky would know him anywhere. He's kneeling up on tangled bedsheets whilst atop another man, the man's eyes closed.

Against all better judgment, Sky checks the volume level and presses play.

At first he feels only a disgusting and irrational pang of jealousy, quickly followed by a wave of heavy nausea.

The boy in the video, he realises, is unconscious. Young too, looking even younger in his evidently drug-addled sleep.

Sky feels sick, the room spinning in noxious circles, the blood rushing in his ears as he stares down at the screen, unable to look away as Gun’s cruel laughter rings out from the phone speakers.

His hands shake where he clutches at the sickening evidence of Gun's weekend away, knows he needs to put it down, knows he needs to pretend he never saw the video, but he's stuck. He can't move, his breath can't come quick enough to satisfy his lungs, and his knees give out, sending him to the floor, unable to keep him upright.

Chapter Text

Rain had never been good at keeping secrets, had never really understood the point of keeping them. Whatever he knew, wasn't supposed to know or shouldn't repeat always just seemed to bubble up to the surface anyway, passing through his lips without his permission.

When he had first mentioned Sky's boyfriend to Phayu it wasnt as if he was breaking some confidence. Sky was openly gay and living with another man, this was no secret.

The undercurrent of their relationship however, perhaps was. At least maybe Sky thought it was. But Rain isn't so oblivious as Sky thinks, he isn't so easily convinced and brushed off.

Rain knows what he's seen marring Sky's skin. Bruises and scratches way beyond the norm, way beyond the amount you'd expect to see.

So, he told Phayu, who was furious. What Rain didn't expect was Phayu's reaction to Gun's name. Phayu had asked him so many questions after that, questions that Rain didn't have answers to. He hadn't met Gun, had only seen one photograph of him, offhandedly during the summer when he'd taken Sky to the Floating Vineyards, just outside of the city.

After seeing the photo, posted to Sky's social media, Phayu became quiet. Quizzed Rain again, demanded he not lie. Demanded he never meet with Gun by himself.

Phayu retired to his office then, telling Rain to stay away and let him sort something out. Flat out refusing to tell Rain what was going on.

Of course because Rain has zero self control, he soon finds himself at the door, leaning on the jamb, straining to listen through the thick wood.

“He hasn't changed. Of course he hasn't fucking changed” he hears Phayu say, angrier than Rain has ever heard him.

Phayu continues speaking between beats of silence as the person he's called speaks on the other end of the line.

“No, Rain has no idea”

“I’m not sure. Definitely since before he met Rain at university”.

“We need to get more information, but we need to get Sky out of there before he gets really hurt”.

“Rain has already seen bruises on his body. He's sure Gun is abusing him”.

A long silence has Rain pressing his ear to the door, before it's pulled away to reveal an exasperated Phayu.

Rain smiles awkwardly, sheepish as he takes a step back.

Phayu shakes his head, crooking his finger in a come hither motion.

Swallowing hard, Rain obeys, stepping back towards Phayu's office and following him inside when he turns to enter.

“Mm” Phayu hums, “I just discovered a spy at my door. A very naughty spy” he says, eyeing Rain from where he leans against his desk, ankles crossed.

Rain chews at his lower lip, wringing his hands together in front of him.

“We'll talk later, after you speak with P’Pakin” he says, pausing after, “yeah, let me know how it goes” he continues before hanging up the phone and setting it down on the top of the desk.

Finally his gaze is back on Rain, and he feels like he can breathe again, “I didn't mean to listen, I-”.

Phayu cuts him off, holding his hand up between them, “no lies, Rain” he says plainly, one eyebrow raised.

That has Rain sucking his lower lip into his mouth again, reddening the flesh under his teeth.

“Sky's my friend. I deserve to know what's going on” Rain finally entreats.

That has Phayu folding his arms across his chest and turning his head towards the window on the farside of the room. Seconds pass, and he lets out a long suffering sigh before turning back to face Rain.

“We know about Gun. He's a bad guy, Rain, a really bad guy”.

Rain frowns, “what do you mean?”

Phayu sighs again, pushing himself off the desk and moving towards Rain. He grips his shoulders, “I mean he's bad. Stay away from him, Rain, I mean it” he demands, his eyes burning with something so intense it has Rain swallowing hard.

All he can do is nod his agreement, “Sky's in real trouble, right?” Rain asks, his voice trembling slightly, tears springing to his eyes.

“Hey” Phayu soothes, “we're going to sort everything out, okay?” He adds, lifting his hand to thumb gently under Rain's eye where a tear slides free.

He nods again, leaning his cheek into Phayu's palm, eyes wide and disarming.

Phayu sweeps his thumb along Rain's cheekbone before pulling him into a tight embrace.

Later, Prapai turns up at the house, angry and illogical, practically irradiated with indignant rage, fury rolling off of him in waves.

“I want him dead. I want him dead for what he did” he seethes.

Phayu glances at Rain, “come to the office with me” he insists, gripping Prapai's bicep to guide him upstairs.

“Stay down here, Rain. I mean it” Phayu says as they pass him, voice firm.

Chapter Text

“What the fuck are you doing?” Gun asks as he returns to the bedroom to find Sky collapsed in a heap on the ground.

When he sees his phone clutched in sky's hands, knuckles white with the effort, the vile video still playing, he only laughs and reaches down to snatch it from him.

“What? You thought you were special?” Gun scoffs, “do you know how many boys are just like you, Sky?” he asks, venom in his voice.

Sky tilts his head to look up at him, tears spilling down his already tear stained cheeks, rage and sadness swirling together in his gut, keeping him nauseous.

Gun grabs for his face, his fingers printing rosy marks into Sky's cheeks as they dig into his soft flesh. “When you're on your knees like this, I can’t help but think of the night we met. With the added tears you're even prettier” he chuckles. “Open up” he instructs, just to prove a point.

Hesitating, Sky swallows hard, gripping at the hem of his dressing gown with both hands, forcing a frown to form on Gun's face.

He squeezes his fingers harder, his thumb pressing a bruise to Sky’s cheek, forcing itself between Sky’s teeth, prying open his jaw, “you know you're no fun when you're like this” Gun announces, finally pushing Sky away from him.

Sky uses a hand to catch himself from falling, his fear dampened palm sliding on the laminate flooring. He stays down there whilst Gun gets dressed, making himself small, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to himself.

Eventually though, Gun is hauling him up roughly from where he sits, pressing him harshly against the wall, “now you're not going to tell anyone what you saw, right?” He asks, phrasing the open threat as a question.

Gulping down the bile rising in his throat, Sky shakes his head.

Gun's hand strikes like a viper then, grabbing hard at Sky's throat, squeezing, “you'd better not, Sky. I can make your life a living hell, don't forget that”.

Sky almost laughs, he almost sobs, he almost screams. How much worse, truly, could it get? He's already living in a nightmare, is hell really that far off?

“The marks” he gasps, his own hand going up to Gun’s at his throat, fingers wrapping loosely around Gun’s wrist. Still fearing for Gun's reputation, despite the rational thought of exposing every mark he's made on him flashing through Sky’s mind.

“Just tell everyone the truth: that you're a whore who likes it rough” Gun dismisses with a laugh, before cackling at Sky's pained expression, “don't pout” he demands with a chuckle, as he slaps at Sky's cheek, too hard to be playful.

He steps away from him again, dropping his hand from Sky's neck and leaving the room.

Sky tips his head back against the wall, his face scrunching into a devastated silent sob, his breath purposefully caught in his throat to keep himself quiet.

When the front door slams shut, announcing Gun’s departure, he readies himself for bed, openly sobbing as he showers, unable to calm his breathing or hide the torrent of emotions.

He wears a turtleneck, under his shirt, to university the next day, despite the baking heat, and dodges Rain’s curious questions as well as he can with the amount of sleep he’s running on and the way his body aches.

Every single sound woke him in the night. He'd spent hours lying awake, on edge and terrified that Gun had returned to the apartment, drunk or worse, with his friends tagging along, demanding Sky to be good for them and join their party.

He shudders at the thought as he pokes the straw into his carton of juice, whilst the drone of Rain’s ramblings, about their assignment, on the opposite side of the lunch table soothes him in a way he couldn’t begin to explain, even with a gun to his head.

“So, will you come?” Rain asks, eyes bright as they bore a flaming hole into Sky’s forehead.

Sky lifts his eyes to meet Rain’s gaze, “Um..”.

He weighs up his options; admit to not listening to a word Rain has been saying since the start of the school day and risk hurting Rain in the process, ask Rain to repeat himself and try to focus, or agree to whatever it is Rain is trying to rope him into. Consequences be damned.

He takes a deep breath, “sure” he replies, almost smiling at the delighted grin that spreads across Rain’s face.

“Really?! Sky, it’s going to be so much fun, trust me!” Rain promises, reaching his hands across the table, aiming for Sky’s own, before pulling back as if remembering. A learned response.

Sky hates it. He hides the wince, as he feels the hot, pink flush at the back of his neck, the ice cold sweat trickling down his spine, his heart pounding in his chest.

Rain knows, he thinks, before shaking his head a little and looking down at the carton in his hand and lifting it to take a sip. Of course Rain doesn't know, Rain is innocent and sheltered, and loved, just as he should be.

As it turns out, Sky may have been better off going with one of his other self-composed options.

As it turns out, what he’s agreed to is to attend a party at Phayu’s house. A party that Rain insists on calling a get together, despite the number of guests.

He finds himself leaning in the corner between two cabinets in the kitchen, perfectly in sight of the other attendees as he keeps them in his own. Being boxed in would usually scare him, but he’s played out the scenarios in his head and he’s pretty sure he could launch himself over the breakfast bar if absolutely necessary, plus the knife block sits just behind him. He’s not entirely sure what he would do if Gun suddenly arrived, but he’s hoping that’s as unlikely as he thinks it is. Gun much prefers feeling special, and being treated like royalty, as a VIP in the club his father owns.

An hour in and his eyes come to rest on Prapai where he stands at the top of the stairs with a young girl. She must be at least five years younger than him, and a couple of years younger than Sky. Sky can’t help but scoff in disgust and force himself to look away.

These rich boys are all the same.

What he doesn’t see is how the pair watch him, nor the way Prapai subtly points Sky out to the girl, before she nods and makes her way down the stairs, weaving between the partygoers as she heads in Sky’s direction.

Chapter Text

The door of the large stainless steel refrigerator beside him swings open, and Sky nearly jumps from his skin, his drink sloshing from his disposable cup.

“Oh, shit, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you” the girl from upstairs says on a small laugh whilst she grabs for a cloth on the countertop to wipe at Sky's hand, drying it free of water.

“It's fine” Sky grumbles.

Now she's up close it occurs to Sky that the girl looks so unbelievably familiar, but he can't place her. The slope of her nose, the fan of her eyelashes as she looks down…

“You look as happy to be here as I feel” she says on another small laugh, before tossing the dampened cloth haphazardly into the nearby sink.

Sky breathes a laugh through his nose, “obligation” he replies dryly.

She laughs openly then, “yeah, same. Obligation” she agrees. “I couldn't bear to say no to P’Rain's puppy dog eyes; I don't know how P’Phayu gets anything done”.

He huffs a laugh, “it's hard enough going to university with him”.

“University?” She asks curiously, then her eyes light up with recognition, “you must be P’Sky. I've literally heard so much about you” she continues, before offering a polite wai, “I'm Phan, P’Pai’s sister”.

P’Pai’s sister? Sky suddenly feels a pang of guilt at his earlier thought, despite being pretty sure that Prapai is exactly the kind of bachelor Sky thinks he is.

“Nice to meet you” he says, offering his own civil greeting.

“P’Rain talks about you all the time”.

“I wish he wouldn't” Sky huffs, squirming a little at the thought. What does Rain say, he wonders.

She chuckles, “what's your MBTI? You're an ‘I’, right?” she questions rhetorically in jest.

He shakes his head incredulously with a roll of his eyes, joining the joke, “everyone here is an ‘E’ it seems”.

“It’s quieter outside, if you want to come and hang out with me? I need some fresh air and I wouldn’t mind the company” she declares with a smile.

Without thought, he nods slightly in agreement. He isn’t sure why, but there’s something about Phan that feels safe, something he can't put his finger on. Whether it’s her demeanor or her kind smile. Or, maybe it’s all just bullshit and Sky really is just the worst judge of character in the history of the world.

Either way he follows her from the safe place that he’s curated for himself between the cabinets, through the crowd taking over the large open plan living space, and out into the garden.

The humidity of the night hits him, though it's not wholly unpleasant, along with the lush smell of the plants lining the walkway as he follows her further away from the house, unwelcome panic building in his chest the further he ventures away from Rain.

Eventually she takes a seat on a stone bench, shielded by plant life that climbs up the tall trellises, and pats the empty space beside her for him to sit, “I promise I don’t bite” she insists, an inviting smile at her lips.

He hesitates slightly, despite himself, but takes a seat when her smile doesn’t falter.

“You’re so unlike P’Rain, you know? You two are complete opposites” she muses.

He hums in agreement as he takes a sip of water from the cup he’s been clutching at all night, “studying architecture brings all kinds of people together, I guess. I think it’s the stress”.

“Okay, now you sound more like him” she says on a chuckle. “Have you always wanted to be an architect?” She asks, sounding genuinely intrigued.

Sky hums again, “kind of. There’s effortless beauty in the natural world, but I like the idea of creating that kind of beauty in something that’s usable. That and I want to be able to support my father”.

Phan nods a little, “family is so important. I’d literally do anything to protect my brothers and my parents” she states on a quiet breath of a laugh.

He smiles slightly and nods a little, “it’s just me and my dad, so I need to have a plan for the future”.

“You’re smart” she says, swaying towards him to nudge at his shoulder with her own.

“Are you still in school?” he asks.

“Yeah, a few months left and I’ll be heading off to uni” she says, “it feels so weird”.

“Mm” he agrees, “what will you study?” he wonders aloud, finding himself curious.

“I was going to study Communication Arts, but I changed my mind a few months ago. I want to become a lawyer”.

She tips her head back, eyeing the hanging tendrils of the plants above them, the air suddenly feeling melancholic, suffocating Sky’s breath. He doesn’t want to ask what changed her mind, but it’s almost like he can’t help himself. The compulsion to speak overwhelms every other feeling in his body.

“How come you changed your mind?”

In hindsight he thinks he knew all of it; what she was going to say, how she was going to look at him, who he was reminded of when he looked at her.

She turns her head to face him, eyes full of sadness and a simple longing, “my brother was attacked. Drugged”.

Raped, she doesn’t say. Though the word hangs heavy between them.

Sky feels bitter bile rising up in his throat, blurred frames from that godforsaken video burned into his memory through hot fat tears. The gentle slope of the boy's nose reflected back at him now in the features of Phan’s face. His breath quickens, and Phan grabs for his hand forcing him to flinch

“Don’t run, please. I’m not trying to hurt you, far from it” she pleads.

“I can’t.. I don’t know what you mean” he lies through the beginnings of a panic attack, still desperate to hide the evil parts of Gun from the outside world regardless of how dangerous they are to live with.

“Please, P’Sky” she begs, both hands holding his own, “I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to upset you so much” she insists, concern laced through her voice and pulling her eyebrows together into a deep frown.

He realises then that he’s the one gripping at her hands, not the other way around, his fingers digging rosy marks into her skin as he struggles for breath against the angry, rising tide of his emotions.

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” Phan chants incessantly, panicked, as Sky digs ivory crescent moons into the soft skin of her hands, and desperately gasps for breath.

“You’re okay” she insists, “just breathe with me. You’re okay”. She begins taking exaggerated and deliberate, slow breaths, attempting to guide Sky’s own.

Inhale.. Exhale.. Inhale.. Exhale…

He wants to tell her he’s not okay. He wants to shake her and scream that things will never be okay again, but he can’t. He’s finding it impossible for his brain to remember how to tell his mouth to form words, and his vision is swimming in and out with inky black, his thoughts distorted and head fuzzy, with an impossible pressure building behind his eyes, which only has him gripping her hands even harder.

“I’ll get P’Rain” she decides, jumping up from the bench yet remaining bent at the waist because of how hard Sky holds onto her.

“No!” he shouts through the haze of half breaths, and shadows creeping into the edges of his vision. “No, don’t, please” he practically begs, gasping around the words.

At this moment he can't think of anything worse than Rain's caramel-sweet concern, his wide eyes full of worry and anguish, his hands frantically dialling Phayu’s phone number or searching him out in the house, conditioned into knowing of no other way to be rescued.

She drops back onto the bench, squeezing at Sky’s hands, “okay, okay, I promise I won't. Just breathe, you're okay” she repeats.

He closes his eyes, his stomach turning now at the thought of everyone knowing how easily he loses it, how pathetic he is, what Gun does to him behind closed doors in the low light of their bedroom, what Gun allows his friends to do.

And of course that caustic onslaught of tumbling thoughts doesn’t help, as he gulps desperately at the humid air of the night, tears streaming down his face now, from exertion and panic, a sick desperation rather than any real sadness.

His whole world seemed to be clattering down around him, he could almost hear the smashing of decor and the tearing of flesh, and Phan had seen too much. When was the last time anyone but Gun or Gun’s friends had seen him cry? When was the last time anyone else had seen him break?

Heat prickles at the back of his neck, beads of sweat forming along his nape and trickling into the collar of his shirt, embarrassment searing him right through.

He doesn’t know how long they sit there, how long he holds onto Phan, or how much time passes until he’s finally able to fill his lungs freely.

Eventually Phan speaks again, “I’m sorry” she practically whispers, her hands resting in her lap now that Sky isn’t holding onto them for dear life. He can see how red they are though, can see the imprints of his nails across the delicate, otherwise perfectly unblemished, skin.

Words don’t come, so he just nods slowly. He wants to stand and run, and never look back, but he knows his shaking legs won’t carry him far enough, knows his face is red and puffy from crying, knows what everyone will see, knows what Gun will see.

“Really, I mean it, P’Sky” she affirms, turning to face him on the bench once more. “I just.. I rushed things, I was desperate”.

Sky frowns, his eyebrows pulling together and his mouth turning downwards in thought, “rushed things?” he echoes, his voice a quiet rasp and tasting of copper from the dryness of his throat.

Her teeth audibly clack together as she snaps her mouth closed. She looks even younger then, like a naughty child caught drawing on the walls with a stubby wax crayon.

He takes a deep breath, his eyes closing in a long, measured blink, barely holding back his indignant rage. “This was some kind of trick or something?” he questions, scoffing a laugh as he slowly, carefully rises from his seat.

“Trick? No!” she insists, jumping up to round his body and stop him from leaving their hiding place behind the trellises, “I promise it’s not like that, let me explain, please. We didn’t know what else to do”.

“We?!” he shouts on a whisper, his head jerking quickly to turn and take in their surroundings, searching for anyone else, “what do you mean ‘we’?” he demands, facing her again when he sees no one.

She grabs his hands, “I’m sorry, really I am. Please, just listen to what we have to say. There’s so much we want to do, so much I need to say to you. We want to save my brother, save you”.

He can’t help the broken, incredulous laugh that escapes his throat then, “save me?” he shakes his head, pulling his hands free from her loose hold. “I don’t need saving” he scoffs, sounding unconvincing even to his own ears, before shouldering his way past her and making his way back towards the house.

Keeping his head down, he returns to the house the way they came and crosses the open plan downstairs space, shuffling between bodies, his eyes firmly on the front door. Finally he makes it out, and he’s down the street before he hears Rain calling after him, frantic footsteps echoing in the night, his voice getting closer as he jogs to catch up.

“Sky, where are you going?” he asks when he reaches him, a little breathless.

Rain's lack of confusion is jarring in a way Sky can't decipher. He doesn’t turn to face him, can’t stand to look at him right now, doesn’t want to imagine Rain’s reaction to his tearstained face and trembling hands currently squeezed into fists.

“Sky?” Rain repeats, voice too soft, too pitiful.

All Sky can do is scoff again. Rain knows, then. They all know and Sky is just one big joke to them. He tips his head back, eyes roving the clear, starless sky above them.

Reluctantly, he turns, and when he does he’s met with Rain’s big, round eyes, forlorn and searching, a small soothing smile at his lips, coaxing and genuine. He feels the heat of those eyes and that caring gaze, watches as the smile falters as Rain takes in Sky’s twisted features.

“Come back inside?” Rain asks, rather than commands, “please” he adds, as he reaches out slowly for Sky's hand.

Despite himself, something in Sky lets him grab on. He doesn't flinch away, doesn’t jump back to keep their distance, just lets Rain’s gentle, warm fingers wrap around his own.

Looking over Rain’s shoulder, he notices Phayu standing by the gate that leads back to the property, eyebrows pulled together in concern, with his hands at his hips.

Swallowing hard, Sky finally nods his head in agreement, grudgingly traipsing after Rain, who still grips his hand with their fingers interlaced.

He’s guided back through the house, Rain’s harsh grasp grounding, and bordering on painful, as he clings to Sky’s limp hand. They head upstairs, Phayu following after them, keeping his distance, making Sky’s stomach flip and churn at the implication.

Again he wonders what they could possibly know, if feigning ignorance could save him from what he imagines will be one of the hardest conversations of his life. Unhelpfully his mind wanders back to the video on Gun’s phone, to the young boy with the elegantly long eyelashes and pert button nose, to the callous chuckle behind the camera that Sky knows by heart, that made the boy seem impossibly more innocent by comparison.

His heart jumps in his chest then, before it plummets down to his feet. Maybe there’s a video, he thinks. Maybe there’s footage of Sky whimpering and begging, tears glistening like bastardised starlight at his cheeks, twinkling in the artificial light of the bedroom. He screws up his nose, the thought distressing and repulsive, erroneously tangled in vicious deceit and bitter regret.

Rain leads him into what Sky can only assume is Phayu’s home office, where Prapai and Phan are sat murmuring quietly between themselves before they realise they’re no longer alone, and Phan rises from the sofa underneath the window, where they’ve been sat huddled together, deep in conversation.

“P’Sky” Phan announces as she approaches, a small, shy smile spreading across her face at his return.

Sky looks down, eyes tracing the shape of Rain’s fingers between his own, desperate for the ground to swallow him up. Anything to escape the party he didn’t even want to attend in the first place, and the nightmare it had become.

When Phayu enters the room, not half a minute later, he closes the door softly behind himself, dulling the sound of the partygoers below, completely oblivious to the seriousness above them. Then he crosses the room to the large wooden desk, squeezing at Rain’s shoulder slightly as he does, and leans against the edge.

He smiles a little at Sky, when Sky finally looks up to assess the other occupants of the room, and Sky immediately resents the tight smile he sends him in return.

“I’m sorry, Sky” Phayu says, tilting his head slightly to one side, his lips pressed together in what Sky can only interpret as regret.

Sky rolls his eyes, turning away and removing his hand from Rain’s in the process, “yeah, I’ve heard that part” he replies sternly, eyeing Phan once more.

“Okay, we deserve that” Phayu huffs on a breath of a laugh, prompting a small chuckle from Phan.

“What exactly were you hoping to achieve tonight?” Sky asks, crossing his arms over his chest in some weak semblance of defense.

“We were hoping we could get you on our side, but obviously, as you’ve seen, emotions run high on this topic” Phayu replies, voice apologetic.

Sky sighs, deciding how to play this, before leaning his weight on one hip, casual, “and what topic is that?”

“Gun”.

He doesn’t flinch. Years of practice and belittlement enabling him to control his body if he knows what’s coming, if he knows what he’s defending against. Gun trained him well enough to avoid punishments if he can, though Sky doubts Gun knows as much. Sky almost laughs at the thought.

“What about him?” Sky continues, nonchalant.

Even now he has no idea what they know, whether they’ve seen the same video or whether Gun has been bragging about what he does in his spare time, his sick hobbies. Gun’s face wasn’t even in the video that Sky saw, though anyone who knows his voice well enough would probably be able to identify it. Though that’s hardly proof of anything.

Phayu looks to Phan then who meets his gaze, only for them both to turn to Sky once more. He hates how much of him seems to be on display, how much he thinks they might be able to see despite his best efforts and his controlled breathing.

“We know about the abuse” Phan says softly, “He’s not a nice guy, Sky, we know everything”.

“You know nothing” Sky bites back, snapping his head towards her, his eyes burning again as he swallows down the scream building in his chest.

They don’t even realise the danger they’re putting Sky in, forcing him to have this conversation, forcing him to lie. If Gun was here he’d probably already have his hands wrapped around Sky’s throat, laughing as Sky scrabbled for breath, complaining about Sky leaving scratches down his forearms.

“Show us your wrists then” Rain demands quietly, shrinking ever smaller yet remaining steadfast when Sky's eyes meet his, “prove it”.

Sky laughs a little, his eyes darting to the closed door as he plans his escape. His mind supplies the images; the other day in the café, Rain startling at Sky's reaction to a hand on his wrist. Arrogance, he supposes, had him thinking Rain had forgotten.

“Why?” he asks indifferently as his heart rate picks up, pounding an angry drumbeat in his ears, fingertips curling up to press the cuffs of his shirt against the heels of his hands, drawing Rain’s gaze and eliciting a furrow to Rain’s brow.

Rain moves quickly then; lunging forward, grabbing for Sky’s wrist and squeezing before Sky can even think about jumping back from his hand. He grits his teeth, the muscle in his jaw jumping under the pressure, a sharp inhale through his nose.

“Rain, stop it” he growls, fear whipping up his spine as he attempts to pull his arm back, wincing in response to his own tugging as Rain’s fingers only hold onto him harder.

A sad head shake is the only reply he receives, as Rain peels back Sky’s sleeve revealing a litany of multicoloured bruising along Sky’s forearm. Fresh rosy fingerprints mixed with smudges of purple plums and sickly yellows; old and new painted on the canvas of his skin.

Phan’s answering gasp burns through Sky’s gut, icing his stomach and dropping it unceremoniously to his feet. Rain’s eyes widen and eventually lift from Sky’s arm to meet Sky’s gaze.

He stares, hard eyes on Rain’s, “happy?” he asks sardonically.

“How could I be happy when he’s hurting you?” Rain replies, a sorrowful pout in his voice and at his plump lips.

Sky simply yanks his arm from Rain’s hold, cups his forearm and slides his sleeve back down to cover the bruising caused by Gun’s insistent hands, and the hands of his friends.

He doesn’t speak, doesn't know what he’d say that would land in his favour or convince any of the people in the room with him that any of his injuries have been caused by some arbitrary accident, or that they’re self-inflicted somehow. The thought of claiming them as such twists Sky’s stomach.

“We have a plan” Phayu states, breaking the tension slightly and drawing Sky’s attention. His arms are folded across his chest, his face more serious than Sky has ever seen him.

“A plan?” Sky asks, wishing he hadn’t, wishing he was never in this room to begin with.

“A plan” Phayu confirms. “Pai?” he adds, turning his head to look to Prapai, who finally rises from the chair he’s been sitting in since they entered the room.

Phan rubs a comforting hand at Sky’s back and he wishes his answering flinch didn’t put quite such a wince on her face. Though she doesn’t speak, he feels the chill of her distancing herself from him, unable and unwilling to beg her to stay close. Incapable of telling her he’s desperate to be held by someone in a way that doesn’t cause pain or sell off pieces of his heart and soul.

He doesn't stop her though, doesn’t say anything or move a muscle, he just watches as Prapai eyes him from across the room, cocoa irises fiery in their warmth and determination.

Chapter Text

“You’re insane. You’re all insane” Sky asserts, astounded, with a dumbfounded shake of his head.

It's the only thing he can think to say, the only thing to stop him from running for the door or from asking if they would rather just beat him to death themselves, and cut out trying to betray Gun at all.

“I know we're asking you to take a risk,” Prapai starts, Sky cutting him off on a derisive scoff of a laugh.

“A high risk,” Prapai corrects himself, his palms up and out in a show of submission, placating.

All eyes are on him as he studies Prapai from across the room, and eventually Sky shakes his head again, lifting his hands to hold his hips, and blows out a breath as he looks down at the hardwood floor beneath his feet.

“You don't even need to give us an answer right away, just promise that you'll think about it,” Prapai adds, voice soft and filled with a care that Sky can't reconcile with.

He's good, Sky thinks, it comes easier to him than it does to Gun, the sickly sweet promises, the ever ill fated illusion of synthetic solicitude.

“Yeah? You’re too kind, really,” Sky replies, sarcastically, voice saccharine and smile sharp. “I'm leaving now. Thanks for the get together,” he continues as he meets Rain's gaze.

Feeling a little sorry for the wince that the scathing remark produces on his friend’s face, he turns to leave but before he can Phayu is stopping him at the door, pressing a USB stick into his palm, “in case you decide you want to help,” he says with a small sympathetic smile.

Sky just clicks his tongue in annoyance and pulls open the door, exiting the room as his fingers curl around the memory pen in his hand.

There’s absolutely no way he can even consider doing what they’re asking, he knows that, but to his surprise he finds himself doing exactly that. Considering it. Considering swiping Gun’s phone and sneaking into the office to transfer everything on it. He thinks he could do it, he thinks he could wait until Gun comes home drunk, wait until he falls asleep after the inevitable.

He shakes his head with a slight roll of his eyes and a huff through his nose, in self-admonition. The very thought of Gun catching him sends an icy shiver down his spine and his heart jumping against his ribs.

He walks aimlessly from the house and down the driveway, turning onto the street and heading down towards the closest bus stop.

“Nong Sky,” he hears someone call out behind him, shaking him from his thoughts and causing him to turn in their direction with a confused frown.

“Every time I try to leave, one of you drags me back inside,” he gripes, only half joking.

Prapai chuckles a little, “I'm not asking you to come back inside; let me drive you home”.

Sky opens his mouth to speak, but then Prapai is quickly stepping closer, putting himself between Sky and the two partygoers that spill through the garden gate, blocking them from getting close to Sky, protecting him as they stumble, clinging to each other with desperate hands and shrill voices.

Sky can't help but gaze up at him, taken off guard, his mask slipping slightly before he’s taking a quick step backwards, out of the warmth that emanates from Prapai’s body, the tantalising smell of his cologne, the golden gleam of the exposed skin at his chest where his shirt sits unbuttoned and loose at the collar.

“Sorry,” one of them calls out as they clumsily bumble their way down the road, probably towards the same bus stop Sky should be heading to, instead of entertaining the idea of once again getting into Prapai’s luxury car.

Prapai chuckles a little, eyes still on Sky's, “I'll drive you home”.

Before Sky can think too much about it, exhaustion tugging at his limbs and drying out his eyes, he nods in agreement, putting a broad, pleased smile on Prapai’s face.

He leads Sky back along the driveway, back to his car, and opens the passenger side door for him. As Sky climbs inside, Prapai rests his palm above Sky's head, just shy of touching, to shield it from bumping into the frame, before he closes the door and walks around the car to join Sky inside.

Whilst he's pulling on his seatbelt, Prapai starts the engine, fixing his own seatbelt as he does. Then, reversing adeptly, after checking Sky's seatbelt is also secured, Prapai pulls his car onto the street and makes for Sky's apartment.

A few moments pass in an easy silence, Sky clenching and unclenching his fists against his thighs as he looks out at the passing houses, so as to circumvent putting any of his attention on Prapai, desperately avoiding the thoughts that spin around his head unbidden. The ones that would certainly get him killed, if Gun only had access to them.

“Listen, um,” Prapai starts, and Sky whirls his head around quickly at the sound. “I'm sorry about tonight,” Prapai continues, “things should have never happened like that. I should have just..” he sighs. “I'm sorry,” he repeats in earnest, turning his head to glance at Sky across the console.

Sky can't help but blink a few times, taken aback, confused by the apology, surprised by the urgency in it. He frowns, shaking his head slightly and turning back to the window, “people are usually aggressive to get what they want, that's human nature, isn't it?” he asks rhetorically.

Prapai splutters slightly, “I wouldn't say that.”

“No?” Sky says on a sigh, “yet you were willing to do whatever it took to get me in that room tonight, right?” he asks, leaning his head back against the headrest, his eyes burning now at the fatigue in them.

“No, not anything. I sure as hell didn't want you to get hurt,” Prapai insists, glancing over at Sky again.

Sky sighs, “hurt?” he ponders aloud, “do rich playboys even know the meaning of the word?” he asks with a huff of an incredulous laugh.

Prapai glances at him once more, “Sky..” he starts, and Sky waves a hand in dismissal. “Sky,” he tries again with another glance.

With a shake of his head, Sky cuts him off, “stop, please. I'm tired and I don't have the energy to listen to your excuses let alone entertain your morality”.

Finally, thankfully, Prapai falls silent and Sky wonders at that. He wonders if Prapai obeys because he needs Sky for this iniquitous plan of theirs, or because he actually has any respect for him at all. It's on the tip of his tongue to just ask, to ask and swallow down all of the honeyed words of another man set out to hurt him.

Had he always been this way? Had he sought out pain, searched out any man who could offer it to him on the silver platter of their curated existence? The perfectly coiffed hair and straight teeth, the lavish, couture clothing sheathing their perfect skin, right down to their initial manners and soft speech.

Gun had never been quite as softly spoken as Prapai, had never looked at him quite the same, like he was something to be treasured, taken care of. Though he'd liked the way Gun had looked at him back then, the raw passion, unashamed and brazen, in his gaze. Now, that look sent a shiver down Sky's spine, had him wishing to the Gods that he'd stayed North and had never had a dream at all.

“I know you think I'm lying, but I really am sorry, just, that's all I'll say, okay? I'll be quiet now”.

The sudden apology shocks Sky from his brooding, and he turns to Prapai to study the side of his face. He's relaxed enough, his jaw loose, lips parted slightly, though his brow furrows slightly in concern when he glances over at Sky, forcing Sky to turn his head back towards the windscreen.

Sky sighs, blowing out a measured breath between pouted lips, his eyes rolling up as the realisation hits him. Sky cares. Sky cares about what Gun is doing and, despite his unbridled fear, he wants to stop him.

He purses his lips before forcing out another breath, terrified at where his next demand will lead him. “Tell me about your brother,” he instructs.

Prapai glances over at him, questioning, but again he obeys. “His name is Plerng, he's twenty-one, and he's studying, well, he was studying business. He's taking a break since..” he trails off, the muscle in his jaw jumping under the sudden harsh clenching of his teeth.

Sky swallows hard, waiting, unable to speak around the lump sitting in his throat.

“He's such a brat,” Prapai finally continues, voice fond but tight around the words, “he never listens to me,” he adds, swiping his fingers under his eye to wipe away the tear that escapes over his lash line.

Without thinking Sky twists in his seat and reaches for Prapai’s hand that sits back on the gearstick, opening his mouth to speak, the words dying in his throat when Prapai looks his way, manoeuvring his hand to grip Sky's fingers in a gentle hold, a small smile brightening his face though his eyes still glisten with unshed tears and unconcealed sadness, “thank you,” he says when Sky doesn't speak.

Sky drops back, his heart pounding in his chest as Prapai smoothes his thumb over the backs of his fingers, “I really am sorry. For everything,” Prapai says, turning his smile back on Sky, this time commiserating.

With a scoff of a laugh, Sky slowly pulls his hand back, “it's fine. stop apologising,” he grumbles, feeling awkward and out of sorts, like he'd lost ground to Prapai somehow.

Prapai breathes a laugh, and again they fall into a simple silence, sharing space as Sky tiredly watches the lights of the city passing by the window, flooding the car's interior with swathes of colour intermittently, like the pulse of a metronome.

The closer they get to the apartment building, the faster Sky's own pulse pounds, climbing higher, up into his throat. He hopes Gun is out with friends, hopes he's at his father's club like he said he'd be. He swallows down the worry that it's all a trick, that he knows where Sky's been, that he's waiting for him, waiting to catch him, revelling in Sky's disobedience.

When Prapai pulls into the car park, he drives to the front of the building, parking within a few metres of the steps that lead up to the doorway.

“Thanks,” Sky murmurs as he pushes open the passenger door.

“Any time,” Prapai replies with a soft smile, “and thank you, for understanding,” he adds.

Sky turns to look at him, pausing with one foot on the concrete of the ground outside, searching Prapai’s face, frowning at the authenticity he finds there.

“Goodnight, Nong Sky,” Prapai smiles again, dazzling in its warmth and integrity.

His throat closes against his response, so he just nods, climbing from the car and closing the door behind him, before making for the entrance to the building, forcing himself to stay facing forwards, without looking back.

Chapter Text

A few days pass, the memory pen burning a hole in Sky's pocket as well as his resolve. He thinks of it constantly, jumps back and forth between either being absolutely positive he's going to go through with the plan, or deciding to throw the USB stick away and never talk about that night at Phayu's ever again.

He can tell Rain wants to bring it up at school, knows full well the question is burning at the tip of his tongue. The way he fidgets and shifts in his seat has Sky on edge, his jaw clenching painfully and his hands squeezing into fists.

Finally he snaps, clicking his tongue in annoyance and turning a reprimanding gaze on Rain, his voice grinding out between gritted teeth, “sit still”.

Rain's eyes widen, his mouth turning down into what Sky can only describe as a precursor to a pout. With another click of his tongue, he informs him, “I don't want to hear it, Rain,” displeasure evident in his tone.

He turns back to his work before Rain can respond, resting his elbow on the desk and lifting his fingers to his temple, leaning the side of his head against them, blocking Rain's view of his face.

Regardless, he still feels the eagerness of Rain's thoughts, and he can practically hear the way he chews on his lips as his doe eyes bore into the side of Sky's head.

With a sigh Sky drops his forearm to the desk, turning back to Rain, who startles at the rapid movement.

Rain smiles sheepishly, “I'm really sorry,” he declares, blatantly not talking about how much he's been annoying Sky since the morning.

Sky shushes him between his teeth, glancing around at the oblivious students seated throughout the room, “keep your voice down,” he scolds on a murmur.

Rain pulls his already abused lower lip back between his front teeth, his eyebrows furrowed above pitiful eyes, thoroughly admonished.

The expression tugs at Sky's heartstrings, a chided Rain not quite as satisfying as he had been imagining since Rain had yanked up Sky's sleeve in Phayu's office.

With another click of his tongue, resigned this time, and a sigh, Sky closes his eyes longer than a blink, “fine, I forgive you, okay?”

How could he really blame Rain for what had happened anyway? He was hardly the brains of the operation, and was so easily led by others, especially Phayu. And, Sky contemplates, perhaps Rain does care. At least a little.

The answering grin is instant, sending Sky's eyebrow rising up in question.

“I hate when you're mad at me,” Rain supplies, pouting out his lower lip for good measure.

Sky shakes his head a little with a small scoff of a laugh, “I should be mad at you, you deserve me being mad at you,” Sky grumbles.

“I know, I know, but you're not, right?” Rain asks hopefully, shuffling closer, “right?”

“Sure,” Sky agrees easily, if only to placate his friend and put an end to the conversation.

Rain visibly relaxes, slouching back in his chair for the first time that day. Sky supposes he ought to have let him off the hook sooner, though the fact that he'd had Rain squirming for a while did feel like an apt punishment for that night, for a while anyway, until his conscience had him giving up on his revenge.

When they leave the university building later that afternoon, Phayu and Prapai are waiting by Prapai’s car, forcing Sky to stop in his tracks, Rain turning with a frown once he realises he's suddenly a few steps ahead.

Prapai is dressed in an impressively tailored navy three piece suit, despite the heat of the day, the designer watch at his wrist catching the light of the early evening sun. He holds a cup tray in his hands, the layers of milky white and grass green in the plastic takeaway cups revealing the obvious contents of matcha boba.

Phayu is Prapai’s opposite, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, his arms folded across his chest as he waits beside his best friend.

They’re a juxtaposition, really, opposites and yet the same in equal measure. Sky bristles.

Matching Rain's frown, he wonders at their audacity, the absolute impertinence of the three of them. Heat flames down his back, the humid air forming beads of sweat at the nape of his neck.

“Again?” He asks Rain, sounding exasperated when he means to be enraged, exhaustion clutching at every part of him.

“No, no, Prapai just wanted to apologise again. I only told him your favourite drink, nothing else, I swear,” Rain rambles desperately, quickly making his way back towards Sky, his tone placating and beseeching, holding up his pinkie in a childlike promise.

Sky eyes him, searching his face for duplicity, despite already knowing that there will be none to find. He sighs, “fine”.

Rain beams at him, turning and linking his arm with Sky's, continuing on their path in the direction of the two waiting men.

Prapai smiles, somewhat awed, when he notices their approach, pushing himself up from where he's been leaning against the driver's side door of his car. He lifts the fingers of one hand in a small wave of a greeting, balancing the cup tray in the other to do so.

Sky rolls his eyes a little, even when his stomach flips at the sight of an acknowledgment so warm that he feels it at the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks. Prapai’s teeth hardly incite the fear in him that Gun's do, though that's probably because he knows just how hard they can bite.

“I don't have it,” Sky says flatly as soon as he's close enough for them to hear his voice.

Prapai frowns a little, confused momentarily before realisation hits him and he shakes his head on a small chuckle, “I wasn't going to ask,” he replies, sounding much too genuine. He lifts one of the cups from the holder and offers it to Sky with another smile, “here, an olive branch,” he says, “Rain told me it's your favourite”.

Hesitating, Sky wonders at the liquid, his mouth watering at the thought of it, creamy and cooling after a full day at university in the blazing heat.

A bottled up memory hits him then; a talc dry mouth, heavy limbs and roiling nausea, Gun's laughter washing over him in vicious waves, hazy and distorted. It hits him like ice water down his back, sending a shiver down his spine. He swallows hard and shakes his head.

“I'm okay,” he replies, keeping his hands down by his sides as Rain breaks away from him to hug Phayu in his own greeting.

With a small frown Prapai slowly pulls back the cup, tilting his head slightly like a befuddled puppy, before another smile replaces his confused expression. Sky almost expects a light bulb to appear above his head with the change.

Lifting the cup to his own lips, Prapai sucks at the straw, drawing up the milk from the base, being careful to avoid mixing the layers.

After he swallows, he smiles again before holding it out to Sky once more, without a word.

Temporising, Sky flits his eyes between Prapai’s gentle gaze and the cup still proffered between them. Finally, stepping a little closer, he takes it from Prapai’s hand.

The pleased grin that the action elicits has Sky's stomach jumping again, frantic fevered butterflies swooping in from an unknown source, sending him lightheaded and off kilter.

Taking a step back, he slowly takes a sip of the drink, “thanks. I should go. See you tomorrow, Rain,” he says, taking a few more steps backwards as he speaks, putting much needed distance between them.

Before he can turn away to leave, Prapai advances, “I'll drive you back”.

Sky looks at him, glancing between the three of them, “why?” he asks.

Prapai frowns a little, “so you don't have to get the bus?” he suggests with a slight upward inflection, seemingly confused by Sky's questioning.

He can't help the laugh that bubbles up from his chest, lifting the drink back to his mouth, unsuccessfully hiding his amusement with the straw, earning him yet another smile from Prapai.

“Fine,” Sky concedes, making his way closer to the car, much to Prapai’s obvious delight.

In a practiced dance he walks around the car and Prapai pulls open the passenger door for him. Sky says his goodbyes to Rain once more before climbing inside, with Prapai shutting the door gently after.

Prapai hands Rain the other drink from the cup holder, issuing his own farewell before joining Sky inside the vehicle.

Then they're alone. Again.

Sky's palms begin to sweat in a nervousness he's unfamiliar with. It somehow doesn't feel the same as his usual anxiety, it's something different, something new, something that he can't quite parse.

He ponders on it as he watches the slow moving traffic from the window, the bustling streets funnelling them along the tarmac maze of the city.

“I know you probably don't want to hear it again,” Prapai begins, startling Sky from his spiralling, “but I really am sorry about the other night”.

Sky sighs, “you're right, I don't want to hear it” he replies, harsher than he means to, putting a small furrow between Prapai’s well-groomed eyebrows.

He sighs again, “but I appreciate the apology,” he adds, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the way the words fall so easily from his mouth, his lips twitching at the small smile that illuminates the gloom that was shadowing Prapai's features.

Why do I like making you smile so much? Sky wonders, dropping his head back against the headrest, watching through the window once more.

“All of our conversations happen in this car,” he mindlessly ruminates aloud, taking a sip of boba and chewing on the tapioca pearls it produces.

Prapai chuckles, “true. That's kind of weird, right? I should probably take you somewhere else,” he decides with a breath of a laugh.

Sky hates how much he likes the sound of that, how much his heart aches for this kind of easy conversation and guileless interaction. He suddenly realises how relaxed he is then, despite being in Prapai’s presence. His heart skips a beat in his chest before it pounds harder against his ribs.

He forces a small laugh, biting at the inside of his cheek as his mind races.

Fuck, he thinks, as it occurs to him just how much he's starting to like Prapai. Out of the frying pan and into the fire, he muses sardonically, reminding himself that Gun and Prapai are of the same breed, the same ilk, his heart breaking at the thought despite his own warnings.

Chapter Text

It's several nights later when Gun next picks a fight, Sky desperately attempting to thwart his attacks as they come, playing at being saccharine sweet and painstakingly pliant. Eventually, Gun takes him against the kitchen island, forcing his hip bones into the hard marble, fisting a handful of his hair and pressing his cheek to the chill of the stone, tears and condensation from his breath smearing the side of his face in wetness.

Sky is thankful it's not worse, though it's hardly pleasant att least there are no broken dishes to sweep from the floors, or university projects to rebuild.

He lets himself drift when he can, finally meandering up the garden path to his father's house, the smell of khao soi drifting from the open doorway on the lull of out of tune singing. He knows he'd smile when he saw him, his father's face would beam with joy, his eyebrows leaping up in surprise when he finally realised Sky had arrived, an impromptu visit from his only son.

Then Gun is spilling inside of him, tugging his hair harder as he grunts against Sky’s sweat dampened neck, his chest sticking to Sky's back with the way he's pressed against him.

The shower rains down on him after, a deluge of hot water washing away the evidence of Gun's assault. He sits on the tray, his back to the wall, his knees pressed up to his chest, silent sobs wracking his body. He decides then, he decides that maybe he can do this, should risk the hurt, risk his death to rid his life of Gun.

Lying silently in bed beside Gun that night is the hardest part, waiting for his breathing to even out in the darkness of the room, the blackout curtains blocking every ounce of light from the city outside, shading them in an ominous pitch black.

Anticipation has his heart pounding in his chest, sweat beading along his brow, his resolve only fuelled by the way his body aches from the events of the evening, his scalp feeling raw and plucked clean, his body bruised black and blue.

Eventually he slowly peels back the cotton blankets and slides off of the mattress, foregoing wearing slippers to avoid the shuffling sound on the hardwood floors. He rounds the bed, making his way to the bedside table where Gun’s phone sits.

He holds his breath as he nears it, cautiously reaching out a trembling hand, before finally lifting the phone silently from the tabletop. Carefully, he turns and tiptoes from the room and across the darkened apartment, unhurried so as to avoid stumbling on any of the furniture.

When he's finally approaching the office door he bangs his toe on the console table, stifling a yelp and grabbing for the doorframe, clutching his foot in his hand, holding it up against his opposite knee.

Freezing, his eyes vacillate, darting between each one of the inky shadows that punctuate the heavy blanket of darkness that shrouds the room. He listens, holding his breath once more, frantically straining to hear for any foreboding whisper of sound coming from behind him, too terrified to move.

The clock on the wall ticks down agonising second after agonising second as he stands there in the darkness, before he's willing himself into motion, entering the office and slowly pushing the door closed, gripping the handle and holding it down until the latch is safely in the hollow of the strike plate. Gently, he releases it, standing frozen once more as he listens for movement.

He flicks the switch on the wall to the side of the door, bathing the room in golden light, and lifts his laptop from his bag that sits on the leather office chair, opening it up and setting it on the large wooden desk. Then he unlocks Gun's phone, connecting it to his laptop and finally transferring the contents.

After checking, and double checking, that the transfer was a success, he closes the lid of his laptop, returning it to his bag and assessing the room, determining that it looks precisely as it had before he entered.

Leaving the same way he came, he places Gun’s phone back beside him, intending on leaving to go back to the office, too on edge about the contents, too desperate to know if there's footage of his nightmares, too anxious to end this.

“Sky?” Gun groans out, voice groggy and scratchy with sleep.

He grips the wood of the door jamb, his fingers aching with the pressure, “Mm?” he replies, an attempt at nonchalance, “I'm sorry I woke you,” he adds, voice honeyed and agreeable.

Gun sighs irritatedly, “what are you doing?” he asks bitterly, shifting in the bed.

“I have some work I need to complete,” Sky answers, his voice filled with artificial warmth, hoping that will be enough and Gun will let him be. He's already done everything he's asked of him, surely he can let Sky go for now.

“Just be quiet, will you?” Gun gripes on a huff, tossing in the bed once more and tugging the blankets up to his neck, “shut the door behind you.”

“Okay. Sorry I woke you,” Sky repeats, exiting the room and pulling the door softly closed behind him.

He has to stop himself from running full pelt to the office, adrenaline shooting unpleasantly through his veins, forcing his hands to shake and sweat, and his breath to come too quickly.

When he's finally shut inside the office once more, he collapses to his knees, stifling a whimper as he tries to catch his breath. He pants into the quiet room, fingernails scraping at the varnish on the floorboards as he scrabbles for purchase, or stability, or anything at all. A wheeze turns to a sob and he quickly lifts his hand, smacking his palm over his mouth, forcing his breaths heavily through his nose.

You're okay, you're okay, you're okay, he repeats to himself, a mesmeric mantra inside his head, tears streaming down his cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself to calm down.

It's three in the morning by the time Sky is meticulously working his way through each file, hunched over his laptop, the sound muted, as he studies the faces in each photograph, each video, until he's finally satisfied and plugs in the flash drive, copying the contents once again.

He drops back in the chair after he's ejected the memory pen, exhausted and jittery, staring down at it as he twists it in his fingers, thinking yet again, wondering if he can really do this, questioning whether he really wants to be free.

Chapter Text

Sky hides the memory pen in the only place he can think of that Gun won't look.

For a short time he had considered keeping it in his bag, however flashbacks of Gun upending his satchel in a rage had him changing his mind with panicked hands, shoving the flash drive back into his pocket and rushing from the office.

Eventually he settles on sealing it inside a zip lock bag and shoving it into the large jar of unused wheat flour that sits on one of the shelves, a remnant from when Sky had attempted to use baking as a bargaining chip to keep Gun's sweet tooth satisfied.

He knows he really should find somewhere else to hide it, somewhere out of the apartment and away from Gun's violence and paranoid gaze, and he considers just handing it over to Rain, envisions thrusting it into Rain's palm in the same way Phayu had done to him back then in his office.

Then the rancid curdling starts up in his gut once more, frantically unsure of who he can really trust, and terrified to hand over what little control he has without a plan, without a safety net to catch him when everything inevitably goes to shit.

Nearly a full week passes, Sky living with his heart in his throat as he desperately avoids looking at the jar that sits high above the kitchen counter, the one that holds his demise or his freedom, depending on which way you look at it. The way he sees it though, playing with fire can only lead to devastating destruction, and he's not sure he's quite ready for the pain of that just yet, no matter how used to hurting he is.

Saturday arrives sooner than he'd like, and he reluctantly readies himself for an afternoon at Phayu's house. A study session Rain had called it and, given that Sky had wriggled his way out of it more than once, cancelling a third time felt wrong when he could still hear the pout in Rain's voice.

He catches the bus over, walking the rest of the way, pausing at the driveway to lean against the gate, taking a few deep breaths before finally making his way through the entryway and up to the door, knocking and waiting.

Watching through the glass as Rain practically skips to the door, Sky's hidden smile forces a dimple into his cheek. He looks down, hiding his expression until he can school it well enough to raise his head once more.

The door swings open and he's nearly knocked backwards by the force of the hug Rain throws his way, tightly wrapping his arms around Sky's neck, despite his flinch, and squeezing him tighter for good measure.

“I'm so glad you didn't cancel again,” Rain gushes as he pulls back, genuine relief colouring his tone and, yet again, Sky feels the pressure of gnawing guilt in his chest.

“Where should I set up?” he asks, motioning to his bag, changing the direction of the conversation as quickly as he can.

“Oh, yeah, in here,” Rain replies cheerfully, guiding Sky through to a room beyond the open plan living space.

It has floor to ceiling windows, just like the majority of the downstairs, yet it is only lightly furnished, mostly filled with a large sofa that lines one wall, and piles of Rain's university books and papers litter the remaining space.

Sky cringes at the order of things, widening his eyes slightly at the thought of having to find anything in the mess of files and worksheets. He turns a careful eye on Rain, “you've made yourself at home in here,” he says in jest, placing his bag on the glass coffee table that sits in front of the sofa.

Rain laughs a little, “yeah, it made more sense than going back and forth to the dorm,” he apprises, dropping down onto the sofa. “I spend most of my time here anyway,” he adds with a shrug.

With a slight nod, Sky kneels on the floor beside the table, pulling his laptop from his bag and opening up the lid after he settles it onto the tabletop. He eyes Rain again then, “we're working, right?” he asks him, making a show of glancing between Rain and his laptop, his eyebrow pitched in question.

Jumping forward to sit on the edge of the couch, Rain grabs for his own laptop with an awkward laugh. “Yeah, yeah, we're working,” he grins, opening it up and sliding down onto the floor to sit alongside Sky.

A few hours pass in what feels like minutes as the two of them work their way through an assignment that's been plaguing practically the entire architecture student body, when Rain finally groans and drops his forehead to the table with a clank, followed by a muffled “ouch,” and another groan.

Sky stifles a laugh, “break time then?” he asks on a small chuckle.

Rain turns his head and beams a smile at him, “please?”

Another breath of a laugh escapes Sky's lips and he nods slightly before leaning back with his palms on the floor behind him.

“I'll get us something to drink,” Rain suggests, easing himself from the floor and heading for the door as he rubs at the red patch on his forehead, reddening it further.

“I'll help you, I need to stretch my legs anyhow,” Sky tells him, pushing himself from the ground and following Rain through to the kitchen.

Rain pulls open the fridge, “hm…” he hums as he absently searches the refrigerator, shuffling several items around before announcing, “we have iced coffee, orange juice, or sparkling water”.

“Coffee, of course, how can you even think otherwise?” Sky answers with a small laugh.

Matching his laugh, Rain pulls two cans from the fridge, “right?” he says on another laugh, handing one of the drinks to Sky who takes it thankfully.

The door opens then, grabbing Sky's attention, his head snapping round to face the unfamiliar sound behind him. He sighs out a breath of relief at the sight of Prapai, putting a frown on his own face at the way he relaxes, before looking down at his coffee with a small huff and pulling at the tab on the can.

“P’Phayu!” Rain shouts, rushing towards him, “you said you wouldn't be back until tonight,” he continues, wrapping his arms around Phayu's neck, “hi, P’Pai,” he adds as an afterthought, his eyes still very much on Phayu's.

Phayu chuckles, “you don't want me here?” Phayu asks him mirthfully.

Sky can't bear to hear another word, so he rolls his eyes and makes his way back to the room they'd been working in for the better part of the day, plopping down on the couch with a sigh before taking a sip of coffee from his can.

“Sorry, I'm trying to escape the lovebirds,” Prapai jokes as he stands in the doorway, forcing a flinch from Sky, who adeptly guides his own hand to prevent the can from spilling over. Prapai grimaces slightly, “sorry,” he repeats.

“You really do have a thing about apologising, huh?” Sky queries sarcastically, taking another sip of his coffee.

Prapai laughs a little, “just a people pleaser, I guess,” he admits with a shrug, a smile still at his lips.

Sky tips his head back against the backrest of the couch, an easy silence passing between them as Prapai walks to the windows to gaze out over the garden.

“Ask me,” Sky tells him nonchalantly.

“I don't want to force it,” Prapai responds without turning towards him, knowing immediately that Sky is, of course, referring to the memory pen.

With a sigh, Sky closes his eyes, and another comfortable silence passes before he feels the sofa dip as Prapai takes a seat beside him, “you're okay, right? I mean, you're not…” Prapai starts to ask.

Sky shakes his head a little, cutting him off, “I'm fine. Please don't..” he entreats, cutting himself off when he realises just how much his voice wavers.

Prapai doesn't speak again, but Sky likes the feeling of not being quite so alone in the quiet room, Prapai’s presence more soothing than it should be, not when they barely know each other and met under the most convoluted of circumstances.

Phayu isn't quite as understanding when him and Rain join them in the room a few moments later, pushing for him to make a choice, to pick a side. Sky can’t stand the implication that he's complicit in Gun's actions, though he supposes that he must be, since he found out weeks ago and has done nothing to stop him. The awareness has his stomach swooping and nausea nipping at the back of his throat.

In annoyance Phayu makes a suggestion, Plan B he calls it, just the utterance of it has Sky's palms sweating where he fists his hands against the thighs of his jeans.

Prapai huffs his annoyance, “you can't be serious. You want to put someone else at risk?”

“We talk to N'Tho and N'Aek, either of them would be more than up for working as a plant, you know how they love games,” Phayu insists, finally standing from where he's been sitting in front of Sky on the coffee table.

“There's no way we could guarantee their safety,” Prapai complains.

Phayu shakes his head, “we'd be there, others too. Let one of them seduce Gun and..”

“Wait,” Sky demands, the idea of someone else being hurt by Gun outweighing his need for survival.

They all turn to look at him, and he gulps down the bile rising in his throat. Pursing his lips he shifts in his seat. “I have it,” he murmurs quietly, defeated, reaching into his jeans pocket to pull out the memory pen before holding it out to Phayu atop a flattened palm.

Phayu sighs and aims a small smile at Sky, “thank you,” he says as he approaches, taking the flash drive from Sky's hand.

Sky pretends not to see the concern painted across Prapai's face.

In the end Sky and Rain trudge after Prapai and Phayu as they make their way to Phayu's office.

The unpropitious sinking feeling won't leave Sky’s mind, and the queasiness only builds higher the closer they get. He feels as if he's slipping away from himself, control slowly slithering from his grasp.

They all take various seats in the room as Phayu plugs in the drive, scrolling through the files that Sky had downloaded from Gun's phone, the ones he spent house meticulously combing through.

The silence as everyone watches Phayu with bated breath has Sky wanting to peel away at his own skin, layer after layer until nothing of himself remains. Instead he laces his fingers together in his lap.

“Ah,” Phayu announces, “there are some videos in the backups of his chats, I'll restore them,” he adds, clicking the mouse ominously as Sky's stomach drops to his feet.

Backups? Fuck.

Chapter Text

Sky begins to chew the skin of his lip, tasting the metallic copper almost immediately as he splits the tender flesh. His heart rate picks up and blood whooshes in his ears, his pulse thumping beneath his skin so loud he's surprised no one else can hear it.

Sweat starts to bead along the back of his neck, dampening his nape, heat prickling down his spine as he waits for what feels like hours as Phayu clicks through the various files. He nearly screams at him, nearly begs him to put him out of his misery, when, finally, a familiar voice rings out into the room.

“Sky,” Gun’s voice calls out, singsong and unbelievably sickly sweet.

“Wakey wakey,” another voice says in jest overtop a quiet whimper that Sky doesn’t even recognise as his own, though it must be him, it can only be him.

“Please…” a small voice whispers, injected with all the saccharine sweetness he saves for Gun, as if it ever did anything but put an acerbically sharp smile on Gun’s face, the submission pleasing, thirsted after.

Sky can't move, he’s glued where he sits in the chair along the far wall, his hands gripping at the arms, nails digging painfully into the hardwood. He can’t take his eyes off of the back of Phayu’s laptop despite there being no image there, his brain easily supplying the vicious visual.

“Turn it off,” Prapai orders in a sharp voice as he steps into Sky’s eyeline, tension evident even from behind, the taut line of his broad shoulders and stiff posture highlighting what his voice doesn't.

Sky feels like he’s in a daze, not really in the room but somehow amongst them all at once. He wants to die, the breath already punched from his lungs at the ungodly sound of his own begging played out through the tinny speakers of Phayu's laptop.

Swallowing down the bile rising in his throat, he drops his head forward, squeezing his eyes shut against the black shadows creeping into the periphery of his vision.

Then Prapai is there, kneeling at his feet, “N’Sky,” he murmurs, voice soft, reminiscent of one you'd use on a frightened animal. Sky can't help but agree with the sentiment.

He slowly lifts his head to meet Prapai’s tender gaze, barely holding back the nausea that's roiling in his stomach. He doesn't speak, doesn't trust his throat to form words in lieu of the scream itching at the back of it.

“Come on,” Prapai continues, “you don't need to be here for this,” he assures, rising from the ground and helping Sky to his own feet, leading him carefully from the room.

When they're downstairs, Prapai grabs a bottle of water from the fridge and guides Sky outside, “sit,” he instructs gently, gesturing with his hand to the garden wall.

Sky obeys without thinking, his hands coming up to his face, pressing the heels harshly into his eyes as he makes a throaty exasperated sound, half sob, half growl.

“Don't hurt yourself,” Prapai tells him in sympathetic admonition, “try and drink some water,” he adds, holding out the bottle after untwisting the cap and removing it.

Sky drops his hands to grip the edge of the wall, the bricks biting into his palms. He looks up at Prapai again, taking a deep breath before forcing it out between pursed lips.

This whole thing is fucked. Gun is going to kill you, you idiot, he thinks.

Suddenly he jumps up from the wall.

“Fuck, I can't do this, I can't be here, this can't be happening,” he struggles to stammer out, breath coming in harsh gasps, his trembling hands wringing together painfully.

“Hey,” Prapai soothes gently, “you're okay,” he continues, setting the bottle of water on the wall before stepping closer and lifting his hands slowly, giving Sky enough time to move away if he wants to.

Sky finds though that he doesn't want to, that he wants nothing more than to be comforted by calm and dependable Prapai, and the realisation forces a choking sob from his throat.

Prapai rubs at Sky's biceps, his hands moving up and down steadily, his grip firm but reassuring, as Sky attempts to reel in his spiralling thoughts.

They drift together seemingly involuntarily after that, unhurried, Prapai's arms coming to wrap around Sky's shoulders protectively, Sky's face pressed to Prapai's strong chest, breathing in the citrus scent of his shower gel and the vetiver of his cologne, indulging in the musk underneath that's just him.

The warmth of his skin melts through his shirt enticing Sky closer, nuzzling into the apparent safety of Prapai's embrace, the steady thump of his heart a rhythmic lullaby to Sky's full-bodied exhaustion, his strong pulse reliable and secure.

Sky has never felt shielded in the way he does in Prapai's arms, despite the open air around them; the sound of the road behind the gate, the honking of horns and rumble of tyres fading to a distant hum under the metrical thudding beneath Sky's ear where it's pressed to Prapai's chest.

He catches himself then, opening his eyes, allowing the tears to fall freely down his cheeks from the prison beneath his lids, as he lingers a while, encapsulated in Prapai's hold.

Slowly, he pushes back, feeling the cold whip between them despite the heat of the day. Swallowing hard, he looks down at their feet, stepping back to put more space between them, inches and inches until finally he stops, finding himself physically incapable of meeting Prapai's gaze.

Was he really no different than Gun? Infidelity wasn't exactly within Sky's vocabulary, and here he was, happy in the arms of another man as his friends planned his boyfriend's downfall.

Mortified, he shakes his head a little, pushing his hair back from his face, combing his fingers through the sweat-dampened strands.

“Sorry,” he whispers, clearing his throat after it comes out quieter and much more gravelly than he means it to.

Prapai follows him, taking a step forward to stand in front of him again.

“I thought we banned apologising,” he replies playfully, voice much too soft, affection warming his gaze as he strokes gently at Sky's hair, smoothing down the bump that leaning against Prapai's chest had caused.

Sky can't help the small breath of a laugh that escapes his lips before he's looking down at their feet once more.

“You're okay,” Prapai soothes, gently guiding Sky back into the cocoon of his embrace. His hold, even now, a welcome balm to Sky's ragged heart.

Prapai strokes at his hair again, his other hand smoothing up and down the line of Sky's spine, before his chin finds its place atop the crown of Sky's head.

Sky has never felt more out of place and more like he belonged all at once, and the anguished flood of tears comes again.

Chapter Text

Every minute after that is agonising.

Sky insists on returning home, despite Prapai's numerous protests, and pretends as well as he can that Gun’s comeuppance isn’t looming dangerously on the horizon.

He goes to school, he returns home, he lets Gun put his hands on him, and he wonders how long it will be before his life changes irrevocably.

Gun is just as violent as usual, just as mean, just as insistent that Sky provides the sick entertainment for him and his disgusting friends.

Sky is sick for days afterwards, and he witnesses Gun’s concern growing with each morning that Sky can’t rise from their bed.

There was a time when Sky could have convinced himself that the worry was for him, could have even been pleased by it, but now he sees easily that Gun only really cares for himself. Sky watches Gun's rising panic, the way he's anticipating having to explain Sky's injuries to a doctor when he inevitably has to give in and take Sky to the hospital.

The only thing that gets Sky out of bed on the fourth day is the desperate need to avoid having to endure that very same interaction.

Rain begs him to come over, to prove that he's okay given that he hasn't been to any classes for the last few days, avoiding phone calls in lieu of texts and emails.

He instantly regrets his agreement when he arrives to find what is essentially a pool party at Phayu’s house.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he approaches the poolside, Saifah having let him in on his way inside, he himself laden with carrier bags of extra drinks and snacks.

“Sky!” Rain shouts from where he clings to an inflatable cactus in the sloshing water of the pool, surrounded by their classmates and some people he doesn't recognise.

He raises his hand slightly in a shy greeting, glancing to where Prapai sits on a lounger, the golden skin of his bare chest glistening under the afternoon sun.

Sky licks his lips, swallowing hard as he forces his gaze away, blinking a few times to wipe the intrusive salacious thoughts from his brain.

Saifah offers him an open beer, the bottle dripping with condensation, and Sky takes it with a murmured “thank you, Phi”, before sitting at the wooden outdoor table, below the large ecru parasol.

Rain approaches him, holding a big fluffy towel that he uses to wipe down his forearms, drying off his skin. His swimming shorts dripping rivulets of water down his legs, leaving a trail of darkened footprints on the heated stone of the patio.

“You came!” He exclaims, a grin painted across his face.

Sky smiles slightly, Rain's happiness eliciting a jealousy he hadn't thought himself capable of. He squeezes the glass bottle in his hand, his fingernails going white with the pressure.

“Hey,” he replies as cheerfully as he can manage.

A furrow etches itself between Rain's eyebrows, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a little tired, that's all,” he placates, though the frown doesn't leave Rain's face.

“I know you said you were sick, but…” Rain starts, his voice tapering off when he evidently can't decide on which words to use, though Sky understands the implication.

Sky smiles again, “I'm fine. Trust me, okay?” He nearly begs, putting the bottle of beer on the table when his fingers begin to ache.

Rain nods slowly, “okay,” he sighs, turning his head to eye the pool before returning his gaze to Sky, “are you coming in?”

He shakes his head, “maybe later,” he lies, earning him a tight-lipped smile.

“You go ahead,” he adds, “I'm fine, really".

Rain hesitates before eventually returning to the pool, occasionally waving at Sky from the water.

Later, needing a few minutes alone, he goes upstairs, making his way towards one of the spare bedrooms where he knows there's a large full length mirror hanging up on the wall.

Once inside, he gingerly lifts his t-shirt, turning towards the glass to eye his reflection, taking in the angry, swollen bruising that covers his ribs in damson and black, limned in vicious vermilion.

“Fucking hell, Sky,” Prapai gasps from behind him, his voice just above a whisper, compounded by shock before rage visibly takes over, and he practically shouts, “that bastard did that?! I'm going to fucking kill him, right now! Fuck the plan!”

Before Sky can respond Prapai is storming from the room. Panicked, Sky rushes after him, grabbing at his hand, attempting to drag him back into the bedroom.

“Please, Phi, please,” he pleads, tugging at Prapai's wrist, “please, you'll only make things worse”.

Prapai turns then, his hand moving up quickly to grip Sky's shoulder, “too fucking right I'm going to make things worse!” he seethes.

Sky's answering flinch has Prapai's expression softening, and he cups Sky's cheek gently with his other hand, “you don't deserve this, Sky. He doesn't deserve you,” he says, tenderness laced through his tone, his eyebrows pulling together into a sad, defeated frown.

He can't help but lean into the touch, starved of positive attention as he is, “P’Pai” he whispers, looking up into Prapai's big brown eyes that are filled now with deep affection and regret.

“N’Sky…” Prapai whispers, his eyes flicking down to Sky's lips before searching his eyes again.

“P’Pai..” Sky whispers again, the hitch in his breath having Prapai press him closer towards the wall, sending arousal stirring in Sky’s gut in what feels like the first time.

“Tell me to stop and I'll stop,” Prapai murmurs, obsidian eyes shining in the low light of the landing.

Sky opens his mouth to speak before closing it and shaking his head a little, “I don't want you to stop,” he finally admits, voice low, before tentatively running his hands up over Prapai's muscled chest, “please don't stop,” he breathes.

Prapai bends forward then, their lips meeting in a desperate sensual kiss, the hand at Sky’s cheek sliding to his chin, tugging it down gently to open up his mouth, easily allowing Prapai's tongue inside.

His hands grip Prapai's biceps, as he craves the stability Prapai always seems to offer him, rubbing his thumbs against the firm flesh.

A pleased hum into his mouth has his abdominals jumping and heat pooling in his lower belly. He answers by deepening their kiss, attempts to pour all of his want and desire into it, intent on filling Prapai to the brim with it.

Prapai lifts his foot onto his toes to press his thigh up in between Sky's legs, where he's already embarrassingly hard and leaking behind the rough denim of his jeans.

He gasps a quiet moan into Prapai's mouth, wrapping his arms around his neck to pull him closer, their kiss becoming dangerously more frantic.

Another grind of Prapai's thigh has his breath stuttering, and he drops his head back against the wall with a thud.

Moving to kiss Sky's neck, Prapai's voice buzzes against Sky's ear, “fuck, you feel even better than I imagined,” before he takes the lobe between his teeth to nip at the sensitive skin.

Sky gasps, pain tugging at his ribs on the inhale, his fingers tightening in the hair at Prapai's nape, “P’Pai,” he breathes, unsure of what he's even begging for, desperate for anything and everything Prapai is willing to give him.

Prapai's answering growl vibrates through Sky's throat, “we should stop,” he insists, sounding dubious even as he speaks the words into Sky's skin.

Opening his eyes, Sky stares at the pendant light hanging from the ceiling, catching his breath, trying to think straight as Prapai continues mouthing at his neck.

He can't remember the last time he felt so alive, excitement and lust coursing through his veins, sending him lightheaded. Of course he knows they should stop. Gun would kill them both if he found out, would no doubt find some new way to torture Sky, to punish him for the infraction.

When Prapai grazes his teeth against the tendon in Sky's neck, his resolve snaps and his fingers claw at Prapai's neck, “don't stop,” he implores, his breath coming harder when Prapai's thigh presses up to meet Sky's groin once more.

Prapai pulls him from the wall then, their bodies still close as he guides him back towards the spare bedroom, shutting the door behind them when they're both inside.

“I want to taste you,” Prapai murmurs against Sky's lips, barely breaking away from their fervent kiss.

Sky feels too hot, his head spinning and his heart pounding erratically in his chest. He nods slightly, “yeah, okay,” he agrees, his body trembling with anticipation as he leans his weight against the hard wood of the door.

Prapai kisses him one last time, a smirk of a smile at his lips before he's dropping to his knees.

He pops the button on Sky's jeans and slowly slides down the zip, moving forward to press his face against the dampened cotton of Sky's boxer briefs, inhaling deeply and further wetting the fabric as he mouths at Sky's leaking cock.

His head drops back against the door, his hands coming up to cup the back of Prapai's head, his fingers tangling in the glossy ebony strands of Prapai's hair.

Satisfied with his teasing, Prapai finally tugs at the waistband of Sky's boxer briefs, exposing his cock to the cool air of the air-conditioned room, sending a shiver down Sky's spine.

Wracking his brain, he tries to think of the last time he'd had this, a hot guy at his feet, anxiety and worry far from his thoughts, with no concerns of what this will cost him.

He gasps at the first flutter of Prapai's hot breath, before Prapai wraps his lips around the head of Sky's cock, swirling his tongue around the sensitive tip.

“Fuck,” Sky groans, tilting his head down to watch Prapai work him over.

He watches as Prapai presses his palm against the obvious bulge beneath his own swimming shorts, humming as he slowly moves down Sky's length, forcing a moan from between Sky's clenched teeth.

Prapai's eyes flick up to meet Sky's gaze, startling him with how endlessly black they are, the irises completely swallowed up by the obsidian of Prapai's pupils.

“I won't last long,” Sky grits out, biting his lip against another unbidden moan, his lungs burning with the way he holds his breath.

A slow blink is his answer, the corners of Prapai's lips ticking up slightly as he smirks around Sky's cock, doubling his efforts, taking Sky further into his throat.

“Fuck, Pai,” Sky moans, unintentionally dropping the honorific, his hips twitching forward slightly at the hot, wet suction of Prapai's sinful mouth.

Then Prapai pulls back, catching his breath, spitting a globule of saliva onto the head as he continues striping his fist up and down Sky's twitching cock.

His eyes are filled with a worshipful awe, such unwavering warmth, and something Sky is too terrified to put a name to. Sky can't bear to watch, dropping his head back on a groan, his hips flexing forward again at Prapai's perfect, practised touch.

Taking him inside again, Prapai doesn't stop until Sky is filling his mouth and spilling down his throat.

Breathlessly, Prapai wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand, gently tucking Sky back into his boxer briefs, eliciting a wince of oversentivity that Prapai apologises for with a soft kiss to Sky's hip.

Belatedly, Sky realises that Prapai has swallowed every drop of his come. In response to the thought, his spent cock twitches and his abdominals clench, forcing his breath ragged.

Prapai rises from the floor stiffly, a soft smile on his lips as he reaches for Sky's hand and pulls him with him as he backs up towards the bed, before sitting on the edge of the mattress and tugging Sky into his lap, his thighs either side of Prapai's hips.

Sky questions if he'd been wrong, wonders if Prapai expects him to reciprocate, asks himself whether he's really okay with the price.

Prapai wraps his arms around him then, carefully holding him to his chest, his hand coming up to stroke over Sky's hair.

Sky relaxes into the embrace, choked by the intimacy of the action, warmed by the strength of Prapai's hold, melting at Prapai's hum of contentment that vibrates through his chest like the purr of a cat.

He doesn't know how long they sit there, Prapai's face pressed to the crook of Sky's neck, breathing him in, as they bask in their shared warmth, their skin a little sticky from overexertion.

A knock on the door has them both freezing before slowly pulling back, eyes searching each other’s in the tense silence.

“Sky?” Rain's voice calls out from the landing, forcing Sky's head to snap round towards the door behind him.

“Fuck,” Sky whispers.

Chapter Text

Carefully Sky solemnly slips from Prapai's lap, Prapai's hands grazing softly against the lines of his body, as if he can't bear the thought of not touching him, of letting him go. It sends a shiver down Sky's spine, has him smiling down at Prapai and gently stroking at his cheek.

“I'll leave first,” he whispers, smiling again at Prapai's nod of affable agreement.

The small smile earns him a blinding grin, Prapai's cheeks lifting and rounding to turn his eyes to cute crescent moons.

Sky can't resist bending to kiss him once more, thumbing his jaw before he steps back to straighten his clothes.

He watches Prapai stand from the bed and motions for him to move towards the wall, so when Sky opens the door he should hopefully be hidden from Rain's view.

Prapai obeys him again, easily, which sends a curious jolt of arousal through Sky's gut. He pulls his lip between his teeth, eyeing Prapai, imagining all of the other ways he could happily oblige Sky.

The smile quickly drops from Prapai's face, his breath catching in his throat as desire simmers in the molten cocoa of his irises.

Sky breathes a light laugh and shakes his head a little, clearing his thoughts, before pulling open the door.

“Hey, sorry, I just needed a minute alone,” he explains as he steps out onto the landing, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him.

“Okay, yeah, I understand,” Rain says, “are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm good. I'm fine. Thanks” he replies, guiding Rain towards to staircase.

“Look, um, I should tell you. Phayu says have everything they need; they're going to the police tomorrow,” Rain informs him, not going into details, fully aware that Sky will know exactly what he's referring to.

Sky nods slightly, resigned already to the outcome as he begins descending the staircase. It feels ominous already, walking away from Prapai's safety. The high he'd felt whilst under his affectionate hands, his sinful mouth, fading now to an ominous itching under his skin and a tormenting twisting in his gut.

“I really don't think you should go back home. You should stay here, you'll be safe here,” Rain insists, stopping and turning to Sky, taking both of Sky's hands in his own.

He shakes his head in response, “I can't Rain. He can't know I was involved”.

Rain opens his mouth to speak, eyebrows pulled together in obvious concern, but Sky cuts him off, “I know him, okay? I can't do anything that has him suspecting me. I'm serious, he'll..,”

He cuts himself off then, realising he's beginning to say way too much. With another shake of his head he extracts his hands from Rain's grip.

“Trust me, okay?”

Pursing his lips, unsure and unhappy, Rain finally nods, despite his obvious resentment towards the agreement.

Sky reaches out to squeeze Rain’s hand a little, “I'll be okay, I'll see you on Monday,” he reassures, finally leaving the house and making his way home.

The journey goes by quickly, the occasional smile jumping unbidden onto his lips whilst he rides the bus back to Gun's apartment, the memory of Prapai's touch, the way he held him. He wonders if he could really have that, if he could dare to dream of it, if things could change for the better, if things could be fixed.

He should have known that life is cruel and fickle. He should have known that it always has a way of bringing you back to earth with a heavy thump. He should have known nothing lasts forever.

It starts simply enough, the morning sun spilling in through the sheer voile curtains, rousing him from sleep.

When he sees Gun standing there, sinister and unmoving at the end of the bed, his blood runs cold, sending his hands numb with it, his tongue tied up in the hollow of his mouth.

Gun stares at him for so long that Sky really begins to believe him mute, until finally he intones, “you've been a naughty boy, Sky”.

Sky blinks several times, taken aback yet altogether unsurprised, the horror building higher up the steps of his spine.

He holds down the full bodied shiver, desperate not to give himself away. These kinds of empty threats have plagued their relationship long before now, the past few years rife with false accusations and allegations. It doesn't have to mean Gun knows.

A smirk finally sets that shiver free, trembling up through Sky's body as Gun's eyes seem to follow it hungrily.

“Get dressed,” he demands before exiting the room without another word.

Sky lies there in the bed, frozen, dazed, and completely terrified. It occurs to him then that he will probably die today, in agony, without ever having tasted Prapai's lips one last time, without knowing that the day before would be the final time Sky would be embraced in his warmth, happy and safe. He thinks of all the things he longs now to do with him, and tears begin to burn pinpricks of heat at the backs of his eyes.

Resigned, he pushes himself from the bed, taking deep steady breaths as he pulls out a plain t-shirt and jeans, dressing before brushing his teeth.

Whilst in the bathroom he tucks his muted phone in between the folds of a stack of fluffy white towels that sit on one of the shelves. He's unsure why he does it, but the action soothes something deep inside of him.

Eventually he takes another breath, making his way to the main open plan space of the apartment.

When he opens the bedroom door, he hears the laughter before he sees them, Gun's friends taking up all of the seating space in the lounge area, loud and loutish.

Backing up slightly, his eyes flick to Gun who meets his gaze with a determined fire, a malicious mire darkening his eyes to a brutish black.

“P’Gun?” He begins, voice small and sickly sweet, immediately reverting back to what he knows, what he's been conditioned to be.

Flinching slightly when Gun approaches, he tips his head back to meet his eyes, Gun's rough hand at his jaw in direct opposition to Prapai's tender touch.

Sky takes a breath, willing himself to remain calm though he feels the way he's starting to shake, the way his mouth runs dry, the wretched sense of dread coating every inch of him.

“I thought you knew how to behave,” Gun tells him, tone disappointed and unkind, his grip harsh as his fingers slide down to take ahold of Sky's throat.

“I don't…” Sky tries, voice tight and croaking from the pressure of Gun's palm.

“Liar!” Gun bellows in Sky's face, startling tears into his eyes.

Sky gulps, blinking back the treacherous wetness before it can stain his cheeks.

“It's okay,” Gun coos in faux compassion, “I suppose we'll just have to try teaching you again, until you learn”.

He's cut off by Gun's pack of friends and their hyena-like laughter when he opens his mouth to speak, terror shooting along every nerve despite having heard that sound so many times before.

But it's not the same as before, the whole situation feels different, it feels more precarious, dangerous. It feels deadly.

Chapter Text

Sky lies motionless on damp sheets, sticky with cooling cum and sweat, and blood. The stench of sex turns his stomach, the echo of the harsh hands of his abusers still rough and aching along every inch of his body. He knows he should move, knows he should at least try and save himself, but he's so exhausted.

Time passes by so slowly, dragging out the minutes, yet it seems to move so quickly too, as the beaming sun inches its arc across the azure blue sky.

He silently cries himself in and out of consciousness, tears soaking the hair at his temples as they roll in a near constant steam from his bloodshot eyes.

Raised voices rouse him once more, an argument booming through the walls of the apartment. He hears his own name, though he can't make out the words surrounding it, can't find the gist of the conversation, his head swimming, preventing him from thinking clearly.

Eventually he cautiously eases himself into a sitting position, dizziness and vertigo sending nausea roiling in his gut, his body riddled with dull and sharp pain alike.

He lifts a hand, gingerly touching the bruise that's pulsing angrily at his cheekbone, the cut there leaking a streak of now dried blood down his face.

With a wince he pulls his hand back before shuffling carefully to the edge of the bed, stepping his feet onto the cold hardwood floor, steadily rising onto shaking, unstable legs.

Staring into the ensuite bathroom mirror, he catalogues his other injuries with delicately searching hands and a cursory gaze; mottled crimson and damson fingerprints at his thighs, his wrists, his throat. There are others too; one of his eyes is puffy, closing against the swelling that encircles it, and his ribs are inflamed in bright, raging red overtop the old sickly yellows and verdant greens.

He turns his head then, remembering a distant plan, eyeing the stack of towels where his phone sits nestled in between the layers of soft white cotton.

With a glance back to the closed bathroom door, he approaches the pile, slipping his phone from its hiding place.

Trembling fingers have him nearly dropping it to the hard tile beneath his feet as he swipes the screen to reveal Rain's contact information.

It rings out for the longest time, impatience turning to dread, until finally he picks up.

“Hey, Sky, everything okay?” He answers cheerfully.

Choking out a spontaneous sob, Sky covers his mouth with his hand, muffling the sound with his palm, swallowing the cries that stick in his throat.

“Sky? Sky? What's going on?” Rain asks frantically, concern and fear lacing his tone.

Sky takes a deep, shaking inhale, “I need…” he starts before cutting himself off at the pathetic sound of his small, whispering voice.

“I'm coming, Sky, we're coming. It's going to be okay,” Rain insists and Sky listens to his quickening footsteps along the wooden floor of Phayu's house.

“Phi,” Rain says desperately, moving the phone away from his face, “it's Sky, we've got to go”.

He stands there, listening to the murmuring in the background, the slamming doors, the purring rumble of a car engine.

“We're coming, Sky,” Rain repeats, the seat belt alert singing its annoying jingle, punctuating his words with high pitched trills.

Sky suddenly feels breathless in his weariness, drained beyond belief. He hangs up the phone without another word, shoving it back where he dug it out from, before turning on the shower.

He steps inside the stall, the water still running cold, shocking his eyes open, eliciting a painfully sharp inhale, his hand automatically reaching for his tender rib cage.

Washing himself is difficult and time consuming, his limbs unwieldy and heavy as lead, determined water droplets weighing down his eyelashes, inviting sleep.

A violent and incessant banging wakes him from where he's slumped against the corner of the tiled shower wall, the porcelain tray below him where he sits.

Shouting and screaming helps him to keep focused, though his eyes want to close again, the water still warm and soothing as it continues to rain down from the showerhead.

The water stops but he can't garner the energy to assess why, the steam cooling around his body. He shivers despite the residual warmth, his teeth chattering behind his lips.

“Nong Sky?” A gentle voice coaxes his brain back online, furrowing his eyebrows, his lashes fluttering as he wills his eyelids to lift.

“Sky,” the voice repeats softly, and Sky realises that he's dreaming of Prapai, that his mind is torturing him now, with the preposterous possibility of being in those arms once more.

“Sky, sweetheart,” the voice speaks again, the words less fuzzy now, less of a resonance around their edges.

He manages to compel his eyes open, attempting to zero in on the handsome face in front of him, the sorrow in those round, brown eyes.

Blinking, confused, he asks, “Prapai?” His voice rough and gravelly.

“Hey,” Prapai answers from where he crouches at the lip of the shower base, putting a soothing cheer into his tone that doesn't match the sadness painted across his features.

Sky slowly reaches out his hand, fingertips stroking at Prapai's jaw, “you're here,” he states, wonder and awe undisguised.

Prapai lifts his hand to wrap his fingers around Sky's, turning his head to press a chaste kiss to the pulse point at Sky's wrist.

“Can you stand?”

Thinking, Sky finally nods, “I think so”.

In his other hand Prapai holds one of the towels, taken from the bathroom shelf, and he reaches into the cubicle to help Sky to his feet, Sky needing to put more weight onto Prapai than he initially thought he would.

“So tired,” he slurs the words together, a little petulant.

Prapai huffs a quiet laugh, “I know, sweetheart,” he replies kindly, wrapping the oversized towel around Sky's body, rubbing carefully at his skin, covering Sky's modesty.

He doesn't quite have the energy to feel embarrassed that he's naked, soaking wet, and bruised in front of him, but he knows later that the mortification will eat him from the inside out.

Rain is in the doorway then, “Sky,” he gasps, eyes welling up with tears as he swallows around the obvious lump in his throat.

Sky smiles weakly, “I'm okay,” he lies in an attempt to comfort Rain, to wipe that pitying look off of his face.

Prapai drapes his own leather jacket over Sky's shoulders, and the warmth trapped inside it has Sky's eyes falling closed again.

“Rain, stay here with Sky,” Prapai commands, jaw jumping under the clenching of his teeth.

A frown creases at Sky's forehead, but he doesn't speak, doesn't want to beg Prapai not to leave him, doesn't want to risk pushing him further away.

After Prapai has reluctantly released Sky and retreated from the room, Rain approaches him, “do you want to get dressed?” He asks.

Sky nods, numbly accompanying Rain to the bedroom, pulling open one of the drawers in the chest, and taking a clean pair of boxer briefs from the stack inside.

Rain helps him into them, Sky gripping at his shoulder as Rain opens up the leg holes for him to step into. Sky tamps down the immediate humiliation that flushes his cheeks.

The vicious noise from the other room is familiar in the way that Sky wishes it wasn't, the brutal smack of hard flesh to hard flesh.

His eyes widen and he drops the towel to the floor as he pulls the boxer briefs past his hips.

Rain tries to stop him from rushing forward and pulling open the bedroom door, “wait,” he starts.

“Pai!” Phayu shouts, pulling wildly at Prapai's shoulders in an attempt to get him to stop hitting Gun.

The thwack of each punch ricochets around the room, the cloying smell of fresh blood permeating the air, sending Sky's stomach churning.

“P’Prapai!” Sky shouts from where he stands in the doorway with his hand clinging to the door jamb, draped in Prapai's leather biker's jacket, his chest still bare underneath, only boxer briefs clothing his lower half.

The relentless blows don't stop, Prapai continuing to pummel Gun, straddling him on the lounge floor without letting up.

“Pai!” Sky cries, his voice breaking, tears spilling over, unbidden, down his pale cheeks.

Quickly, Prapai turns to him, his head snapping in Sky's direction. He jumps up, immediately crossing the room, slowing to a stop a few steps too far, further away than Sky would like.

“Sky?” He questions, worry written across his face, his hands frozen in the air, as if undecided if he should reach out and touch, his knuckles split, bloodied and raw.

“Pai,” Sky whimpers, entreating, and Prapai finally closes the distance between them, his hands holding Sky's biceps hidden under the leather, thumbing his skin gently.

“You're okay,” he says, and Sky can't tell if he's saying it for his own benefit or for Sky's.

He leans towards him, wanting those arms around him, needing that safety, desperate for the contented feeling he can only find in Prapai's embrace.

Thankfully Prapai doesn't make him wait long, pulling him gently to his chest, cocooning him in his hold, the warmth of his skin lulling Sky’s mind into blackness.

Chapter Text

The next time Sky wakes he's in an uncomfortable hospital bed with nylon blankets itching at his skin, incessant beeping from the monitor beside him and the low murmuring of conversation working their way into his foggy, dreamless sleep.

“What's going on with you and Sky?” Rain asks, voice hushed and sounding a little protective, a touch too concerned.

“Yeah, you never said anything about the two of you,” Phayu adds curiously.

“I don't want to speak for him,” Prapai replies, “but I really like him, okay? We're… friends”.

“Friends?” Rain huffs.

“Friends don't look at each other like that, Pai,” Phayu elucidates.

Prapai sighs and Sky can imagine him pushing back the loose strands of ebony hair that have likely fallen down over his forehead. He cringes a little at the realisation that he really shouldn't be listening in, but he can't seem to will his body to move, eyelashes fluttering minutely under the heavy weight of sedation.

“I want to date him, to be with him, we're… we've been talking and-”

“Talking?” Phayu asks incredulousy, an undercurrent of an accusation, with an eyebrow raised, no doubt.

Sky's stomach drops at the memory of his infidelity, the way he'd fallen so easily for Prapai's charms, had strayed from Gun for the first time in three years, wanting more.

Now he really can't bear to hear anymore. He forces his eyes open, squinting from the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, a pained groan grumbling unbidden from his throat.

“Sky?” Rain practically shouts, delight and relief laced through his tone in equal measure. “You're awake,” he continues, rushing to Sky's bedside and looming over him where he still lies flat on the mattress.

“Mm, I'm awake,” Sky rasps out, blinking back the watering brought on by the sharp brightness of the lights.

Prapai stands stock still, a few steps from the bed, looking uncertain, unsure. Sky hates it, hates himself for feeling so much, for desperately needing him.

Sky meets his gaze, searching his face, until finally Prapai must see something in Sky's expression, something that propels him forward to take Sky's hand in his own.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, thumb caressing gently along the back of Sky's hand, rubbing soothing circles into the skin.

He lets his eyes fall closed for a few seconds, basking in Prapai's affection, before opening them once more, “I'm okay,” he lies.

Rain clicks his tongue in reprimand, “you're not okay! He really hurt you, Sky!”

Phayu hushes him, gripping his shoulder, and he quiets immediately, his eyes dropping to the floor at his feet.

“We'll leave you two alone for a few minutes. To talk,” Phayu says pointedly to Prapai, before guiding Rain with the hand that's still at his shoulder, steering him from the room.

Once the door clicks closed, Prapai's eyes are back on Sky, a small, sympathetic smile at his lips.

“Don't,” Sky starts, taking a shaking inhale that has him wincing slightly against the pressure, “please don't”.

Prapai closes his mouth and strokes at Sky's hand again, lifting it to his lips and pressing a gentle kiss to the back of it.

“I'm sorry,” he speaks into Sky's skin.

Sky shakes his head, holding down the smile that wants to break free and comfort Prapai, “none of that either,” he demands a little harshly.

With a huff of a laugh, hot and humid against Sky's skin, Prapai nods, “okay, none of that,” he agrees.

Prapai watches him for the longest time and Sky has to force himself not to squirm under the assessment.

“I was so scared, Sky,” he says in lieu of the mountain of apologies Sky knows he means instead, and Sky has to look away from the sincerity bleeding from Prapai's every pore, his eyes more pleading than Sky has ever seen them.

“I'm sorry,” Sky murmurs, ignoring his own prior demand.

Another huff of laugh, another kiss to the back of Sky's hand.

Sky shifts a little, unsuccessfully attempting to move into a seated position. Prapai stands quickly, his gentle, helpful hands holding at Sky's shoulders as he plumps the pillows up behind him. When he's happy with the angle, Prapai assists him in lying back down against them, stroking down Sky's hair when he's situated, smoothing the mess of it.

He wonders if life could really be like this, marvels at how easy it is to be with each other, how simple it is, even here in the dreary yet overly illuminated hospital room.

A few moments pass, Sky's eyelids drooping heavily under the repetitive soft sweeping motion of Prapai’s hand.

“Can I kiss you?” Prapai asks shyly then, and Sky's eyes snap back to meet his, before glancing at the door.

The question isn't shocking, of course, they've done more than that, Sky had asked Prapai for more than. He's surprised at the bashfulness though, enamored by the sheepish tone.

He nods slightly, “okay,” he replies in a whisper.

Prapai's beaming smile is infinitely brighter than the harsh lights above them, more blazingly brilliant than even the sun could manage on its best day.

Sky returns the smile without thinking as Prapai moves forward, leaning in to capture Sky's lips in a soft, chaste kiss. He lifts his hand to wrap his fingers around the back of Prapai's neck, tugging him a little closer, pressing their lips together more firmly.

His other hand snakes a hold around Prapai's bicep, feeling the muscle bulging beneath his palm as Prapai holds himself up, hovering above Sky.

When his lungs are starting to burn he pulls his head back, keeping his breaths shallow despite the fact that he knows he needs to breathe normally for his ribs to heal.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, cutting Prapai off when he opens his mouth to speak, “but what will happen now? Gun's father…”

Prapai shakes his head a little, “the police arrested him and he spent some time in custody. I'm sure they’ll want to come and question you now that you're awake”.

Something in Prapai's gaze has Sky pausing, his blood running cold despite the warmth of Prapai's hold, “he's going to walk free, right?” Sky intones, voice tight and choked out.

The fire in Prapai's eyes burns impossibly hotter and Sky wants to grab onto the protectiveness he sees there, wants to take it between his teeth and swallow it down, keep it with him forever.

“He will be punished,” Prapai states with a finality that sends a shiver down Sky's spine, “I guarantee it”.

Chapter Text

When he finally leaves the hospital three days later, Rain offers for Sky to stay with him and Phayu. It doesn't feel right though, nothing does until he's standing in Prapai's apartment, Prapai holding Sky's suitcases in both hands.

Gun had been ordered to stay with his father whilst the police picked apart his home, and Sky had, thankfully, been allowed to take his own things, as long as they held no bearing on any investigation.

It's strange leaving Gun's building with the same suitcases he'd arrived to Bangkok holding, back when he was carefree and naïve, back when he'd been stupid enough to fall for Gun's lies.

Prapai puts the suitcases down gently and turns to Sky, “I'll make you some tea, and then I'll order some jok so you can take your medication”.

He just nods, the atmosphere surreal and weirdly thick. Gulping down the thought, he steps closer, just a little, just wanting to be in Prapai's orbit, just needing to feel his warmth.

Prapai notices, because of course he does. His answering smile flips Sky's stomach just like always, regardless of how many times it's aimed his way.

Wrapping his arms around Sky, Prapai engulfs him in a strong embrace, and Sky leans into it, a content sigh leaving his lips unbidden.

Sleeping beside him that night is another story. Sky tosses and turns, wincing with the pull of his ribs and other injuries, scared to fall asleep yet not wanting to keep Prapai awake.

Morning gives way to exhaustion and blue smudges under both of their eyes. Though Prapai doesn't complain, he just fusses over Sky with breakfast and rubs at Sky's tight shoulders, offering him a visit to the spa downstairs in his luxury apartment building.

All Sky can feel is guilt. Guilt for keeping Prapai awake, for making a place for himself in Prapai's life, for needing him.

The following night he falls into fitful sleep, weighed down by fatigue and self-reproach. Of course the nightmares come then, the ones that made Gun laugh or kick Sky from the bed, if he even woke up during them at all.

Prapai's soothing voice cuts through the din like a hot knife through butter, and Sky's eyes fly open, tears streaming from their confines, his eyelashes inky black and clumped together.

“Hey,” Prapai whispers with a smile, illuminated by the muted yolk yellow bulb of the bedside lamp, thumbing gently at the wet streaks on Sky's cheeks, “you're okay”.

Sky chokes out a sob, opening his mouth to spill out apologies between them.

Prapai preemptively cuts him off before he can start, a warm smile still at his lips, “no apologies, remember?” He teases, brushing Sky's sweat-dampened hair back from his forehead.

The tenderness forces more tears then, and Sky struggles to hold them down, so unbelievably grateful for the man in front of him.

“P’Pai,” he starts, though it turns to a sob and his vision blurs rapidly, drowned out by a new wave of tears.

“Hey, I'm here,” Prapai assures, pulling Sky into a hug, “I'm here”.

Their days and nights pass in a similar fashion, soon turning to weeks. They hear nothing of Gun, and Prapai doesn't bring it up, so Sky doesn't either, even though he's secretly terrified when Prapai leaves for work each morning.

The police had come to see him when he was still hospitalised, had judged and assessed with their curt questions and veiled accusations, unprofessional and much too familiar.

It had Sky thinking of the footage of him with Gun and his friends, had him wondering just how many people had laid their eyes on it, how many had watched it from start to finish. He questions how many laughed.

Rain calls him occasionally, curious about Sky's relationship with Prapai, how it started and when. Sky tries not to think too much about his own transgressions, the way he'd thrown himself at Prapai despite having a boyfriend at the time.

He attempts to explain how he feels without revealing too much of himself, without exposing the way Prapai can make him imagine himself as important, that the way he looks at him makes Sky feels positively incandescent.

Rain just laughs and tells him plainly that it sounds like he's in love.

And Sky hadn't considered that. Love, to Sky, had been such a dirty word for so long. Something about wanting and chasing, and only getting hurt in return. But he wonders at the way Prapai has proven himself, time and time again, can't think of a time when pain has ever been inflicted on him by those gentle hands.

That night, when Prapai comes home from work, Sky is practically vibrating with a ravenous need. A need to show Prapai exactly what he means to him, how much he loves him, even when the feeling makes him sick with worry.

He begins by meeting Prapai at the door, Prapai's answering smile sending a warmth through Sky's body, like drinking hot tea on a cold evening.

Moving closer, Prapai wraps his arms possessively around Sky's waist, “I missed you,” he tells him, as he always does when he returns.

This time, instead of his usual awkward and embarrassed laugh, Sky meets Prapai's gaze head on, “I missed you too,” he states, licking his dry lips as he searches Prapai's face.

A grin spreads across it, crinkling Prapai's eyes, “you did?” He asks cheerfully, a little teasing in his tone.

Sky squirms slightly in his hold but remains steadfast, “mm,” he hums in agreement, allowing a small smile to tick up the corners of his mouth.

Prapai pulls him a little closer, expression turning sincere, “what did I do to deserve you, hm?” he asks, his hold firm and unwavering, the heat of his hands like a brand at Sky's lower back.

Breathing a shaking inhale, Sky shakes his head minutely, “I should be asking you that,” he replies, voice coming out as a soft whisper.

With a click of his tongue, Prapai pulls him closer still, kissing the side of Sky's head, “nonsense”.

Less than a minute passes before Sky is tilting back his head from the comfort of Prapai's chest, meeting his gaze, “I want you,” he tells him, cheeks heating with the eagerness of the confession.

Prapai frowns slightly, concern furrowing his eyebrows. The expression is wholly unwelcome on his face, forcing Sky to bristle against him, “what?”

“I just-, I don't need you to-. You're still recovering from…” he trails off, doesn't say the words that hang heavy between them, the ones that seem so much louder than the ones he does speak.

“I want you,” Sky reiterates firmly.

When Prapai opens his mouth to deny him again, Sky cuts him off, grabbing for Prapai's wrist. He presses Prapai's palm to the front of his trousers, Sky's already half hard cock twitching against the warmth of it.

“No, no, Sky, just-” he stops abruptly, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

“I want you,” Sky whispers into the quiet space amidst the two of them, as Prapai holds his breath, “please,” he adds in hopes that Prapai will recover his streak of never saying no to him.

Prapai searches his eyes, evidently coming to a decision before squeezing his hand gently over Sky's hardening cock.

Sky inhales a little sharply, “P’Pai,” he breathes, and he watches as Prapai's nostrils flare, anticipates breaking the dam of Prapai's self-imposed constraints.

He lunges forward, kissing Sky's lips, his hand slithering underneath the waistband of Sky's sweatpants, forcing his tongue into his mouth when Sky gasps at Prapai's burning touch.

Sky twists his head away from Prapai's lips, breathless, and Prapai moves to sucking kisses into the pale skin of his neck.

Panting, Sky licks at his dry lips, whimpering slightly at the flick of Prapai's insistent wrist.

Quickly, he reaches down, tugging at Prapai's belt and popping the button of his trousers from the buttonhole, before reaching his hand under the fabric to take Prapai in hand.

He gasps against Sky's neck, the chill of his inhale sending a shiver over Sky's overheated skin.

He's bigger than Gun, or anyone else who's ever claimed Sky for their own, and the thought sends something fluttering in his stomach as the heat coils tighter.

Revelling in the realisation that this is the first time that he has touched Prapai, the first time he's held him in his hand, he immediately curls his fingers around him, circling him in a tight hold before slowly working the tunnel of his fist up and down.

Prapai's breath stutters out, tickling at Sky's ear, and Sky pulls his lip back between his teeth. He palms the head of Prapai's cock, gathering the leaking pre-come there before returning his hand to the length of him, slicker and smoother.

“Fuck, Sky,” Prapai groans, and Sky delights in it, arousal swirling low and hot in his gut as he brings Prapai closer to orgasm.

A satisfying harsh exhale against Sky's neck has him smirking, speeding up as he strokes Prapai in tandem with Prapai's own hand still at Sky's cock.

They both come in each other's hold, Sky tumbling after Prapai over the precipice, diving down into ecstasy, foreheads pressed together, gasping in humid air. Prapai moves first then, kissing him deeply even as they work hard to catch their breaths.

A few days later, Sky has to return to school, much to Prapai's dismay. They argue a little about it, their first disagreement, and Prapai grins at Sky's petulance, praising him for something any normal person wouldn't think twice about.

Sky both loves and hates it in equal measure; despising the pride it evokes in him, but adoring the pleasure Prapai finds in it.

Unfortunately the questioning gazes of his peers have him on edge for most of the morning, though Rain makes it his mission to keep his mind occupied, chattering away incessantly and filling the silence whenever their lecturers aren't speaking.

He's so unbelievably tired by the end of the day, but so pleased to be back to some semblance of normality, still desperately wanting the life he'd planned for himself when he was a child, years before he'd made the fateful move to the city.

Huffing a laugh at a joke Rain makes, he looks out across the carpark as they walk down the front steps of the building.

Suddenly feeling a little uneasy, he stops in his tracks and his smile drops from his face. He senses those familiar, sinister eyes on him before he even sees them.

Gun.

Chapter Text

Petrified, he stumbles backwards, back up the steps they've just walked down, tripping and falling on the final one, unable to pull his eyes away from Gun's easy, evil smirk.

Distantly he hears Rain's panicked voice, cut haphazardly by the juxtaposing sound of the world around them, the starting of engines and the slamming of car doors throughout the car park, classmates chatting animatedly, excited for the evening ahead.

He knows he's breathing too quickly, absently knows he's accelerating his own panic attack with the way he's gasping for air.

Squeezing his hands into fists, he tries to let the pain of his short nails digging into the meat of his palms ground him, desperately grabs for logic and reasoning before his brain ultimately goes offline.

Looking at Rain's terrified face, he can only croak out one word, a word that whitens Rain's complexion and widens his eyes.

“Gun”.

Rain falls silent, standing quickly and looking out over the car park, scanning the area as Sky grips at the stiff denim of the leg of Rain's jeans. Then Rain pulls out his phone, his hands only trembling slightly as he taps at the screen and brings it up to his ear.

He freezes then, and Sky knows what he sees, knows that he must have spotted Gun from where he watches them, over by the line of trees at the farside of the lot.

“Phi, he's here, at school,” Rain says into the handset, the anger obvious now in his voice, and Sky tips his head back to look up at him, nearly laughing at the bratty indignation painted across Rain's features.

His heart is pounding so hard in his chest that he thinks everyone surrounding them must be able to hear it, he glances around as his breathing calms a little with the knowledge that Phayu will soon be on his way, gulping down air as confused school mates eye him where he still sits on the ground.

The embarrassment begins to prickle at the back of his neck, the realisation of where he is, and that he's so plainly in view that he's become a sort of sideshow attraction, no doubt enhanced by the rumours of his previous absence that are still circulating.

He looks down at the concrete before taking a deep breath and climbing to his feet, losing his balance a little before Rain's steadying hands are grabbing for him.

“P’Phayu will be here soon, we'll just wait here for him. Gun won't try anything if we're on school property,” Rain decides.

Sky wishes he could be so sure, so certain that Gun wasn't as daring as that, or as unhinged. He looks back over to where Gun still stands, mocking Sky's very being, lifting his fists to his cheeks and bending his wrists up and down in a cry baby gesture, alongside an exaggerated full pout, laughing after, when Sky's lower lip is pulled between anxious teeth.

The time passes so unbelievably slowly; like bootstrap molasses in the depths of winter, like clouds crawling across a gloomy sky, like decay rotting at dead vegetation. Until finally, Phayu's car careens into the car park, only slowing to a stop when he reaches the bottom of the steps, despite the no parking signs there.

Phayu gets out of the car, ascending the stairs and cupping Rain's cheek with one hand, “everything okay? He didn't say anything?” he asks, looking to Sky.

Sky shakes his head, gesturing with his chin to where Gun waits, on the phone now, laughing into the handset and waving at them slightly with one hand, obnoxious and casual.

“Get in the car,” Phayu tells them without taking his eyes off of Gun, following them down the steps with his hands on his hips.

He drives them to Prapai’s condo and tells them to go upstairs, kissing the top of Rain's head before speaking with the concierge on Prapai’s behalf.

They watch him as the elevator doors close, and Rain turns to Sky, “are you okay?” he asks, rubbing at Sky's arms, “you're still shaking”.

“Sorry,” Sky replies automatically, before realising how stupid that sounds.

Gun had really made him into a person who couldn't bear to take up space, it was bewildering when he really looked at it. How easy it had been for Gun to mould him into the perfect victim, how well he fit the role of Gun's ideal casualty, how Sky had suffered in the exact way Gun had wanted him to, had trained him to.

Rain clicks his tongue but says nothing, guiding Sky out of the elevator and to Prapai’s front door. He opens up Sky's bag, when Sky doesn't, and takes out the keys, unlocking the door and ushering Sky inside.

After they've taken off their shoes, Rain makes Sky drink from a bottle of water he pulls from the fridge, “do you want anything else? I can make you something..” he starts, opening up the bare cabinets, “or we could order something?”

They had planned to go grocery shopping together this weekend, down to the market, him and Prapai. He wonders if anything in his life will ever be normal with Gun plaguing his existence the way he is, the way he has done for so many years now.

Sky shakes his head a little, “I'm okay. Thanks,” he assures with a weak smile.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Rain asks, leaning opposite him over the kitchen island.

He shakes his head again, “I can't..” he falters, looking down at the counter top and gulping at the sudden lump in his throat.

Meeting and living with Prapai had made him soft, somehow. He found himself quick to tears now, emotions showing easily on his face, unbidden and embarrassing. He hated it.

When he looks up, Rain is still watching him, a small reassuring smile at his lips, “then let's just watch some TV, yeah?”

Sky nods, easily moving from the kitchen to the couch, Rain leaning against him comfortingly as they decide what to watch.

He wonders what Prapai will say when Phayu turns up at his office, wonders when the inconvenience of Sky's problematic past will become too much for him, wonders when Prapai will give up on him.

Hours pass, Sky and Rain restlessly moving around the apartment, with Sky taking a shower and changing his clothes just to waste some more time.

The sun slowly sets, bathing the room in gold, and they finally switch the lights on when it becomes dusky and shadowy in the late evening.

Both of them spring to their feet when the door opens, watching anxiously as their boyfriends make their way inside, weary and serious.

Phayu doesn't remove his shoes, just leans in to offer them a reassuring smile, “come on, Rain, we'll go back”.

Rain glances at Sky and obeys, making his way across the room, “message me later, Sky,” he says as he slips on his shoes.

Sky nods silently, eyeing Prapai who hides his hands up the sleeves of his leather jacket. He glances between Prapai’s hands and his face, searching the expression he can't quite parse, before turning his eyes back to Rain and Phayu.

Phayu claps Prapai on the shoulder, earning him a nod and hum of a goodbye, and with that they leave.

The quiet begins to eat Sky up, as he stands watching Prapai. Trying to puzzle him out.

He still hides his hands. He still doesn't speak.

Without much preamble, Sky approaches him, grabbing for his hand and yanking up the sleeve, a backward imitation of what Rain had done to Sky all those weeks ago.

He blinks in surprise at the damage there, roughed up knuckles with blooming bruises over the bones. There is blood, dried ruddy, on his skin and around his nails, revealing untempered violence.

Sky looks up at him, frowning in confusion, which Prapai seems to take for anger if the wince it receives is anything to go by.

“Where have you been?” Sky asks, searching Prapai’s face.

Prapai licks at his lips nervously, “why don't we sit down?”

Shaking his head slowly, Sky refuses, “no, no. Tell me. Where were you?”

This time Prapai looks away, clearing his throat before answering, “dealing with Gun,” and turning his gaze back on Sky.

He feels the way his eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, the ice water shock rushing over him, the warmth in his belly at the thought of Prapai wanting to protect him, the worry of what Gun will do in retaliation.

“What?” he questions, a little angrier than he means to, when Prapai is not the true recipient of his ire.

Another wince, another furrowed brow.

“I'm sorry, I just… he was hurting you, and I…”

Sky shakes his head a little, frustrated at Prapai’s apparent lack of understanding, “P’Pai, he won't give up. He'll come after you”.

Something in Prapai’s face stops him in his tracks then, and he tilts his head slightly, “except he can't, can he,” he states rather than asks, and Prapai releases the breath he's been holding.

Gun is dead. Gun is dead by Prapai’s hand and Sky is set to be alone.

“Fuck,” Sky says, turning away and pushing his hands through his hair.

“Sky, I'm sorry,” Prapai starts, practically grovelling as he follows Sky across the room.

Sky turns quickly, and they’re face to face once more, Prapai looking much too distressed for Sky's liking.

“Hey,” he says quietly, gently shushing Prapai through his teeth as he cups his face in his hands, “it's okay. I just, why did you do this? They're going to find out and then, then..” he bites back the tears that clog his throat and threaten to spill over down his cheeks.

Prapai looks relieved, if not a little confused, “you're not angry?”

“Of course I'm angry!” Sky shouts with a click of his tongue, dropping his hands, “you're going to end up in prison, this is what he does, he takes everything from me, phi!”

“Sky, darling,” Prapai soothes, taking Sky's trembling hands in his own, “P’Pakin, the one who runs the races, he's sorted everything. It will all be fine”.

Sky searches his gaze, and he knows nothing is ever that easy, “in exchange for what?” he asks solemnly.

Prapai smiles a little, “don't worry about that now, it's nothing I can't handle”.

He wants to believe him so much, desperately, but tears still start slipping their way down his cheeks anyway, and he lets them, too tired of it all to pretend he's strong. Not when Prapai has seen him at his worst, lying in a hospital bed covered in bruises, or disassociating under Gun on one of the sick videos he kept.

It's Prapai who wipes at them gently, thumbing the wetness from his face, “it's over. I promise”.

Sky breaks at that, practically falling into Prapai’s arms, letting Prapai catch him, his body racked with sobs he didn't know were trapped inside the aching cavity of his chest.

Prapai holds him through it all, just as he has since they met, easily and fiercely, protecting him in the only ways he seems to know how.

When he's cried all he can, leaning against Prapai’s chest, steadying his own breathing, he looks up, meeting Prapai’s warm gaze and soft smile.

Taking a breath, Sky straightens slightly, kissing Prapai’s lips before searching his eyes, trying to convey everything he's feeling, how much he wants to be here with him, how much he loves him.

“P’Pai,” he whispers, glancing at Prapai’s lips.

Lifting a hand, Prapai strokes tenderly at Sky's cheek, “my Sky,” he whispers in response, Sky matching his smile.

He kisses him again, encircling his hand at the back of Prapai’s neck, his fingers threaded through the hair at his nape. Then he sucks Prapai’s lower lip into his mouth before grazing at it with his teeth, eliciting a gasp that sends a jolt of excitement through his gut.

Pushing Prapai’s jacket off of his shoulders, Sky presses himself to Prapai’s body, “I want you, you have no idea how much,” he breathes, already riled up despite only kissing him.

Prapai licks at his lips, “fuck,” he whispers, “Sky…”

“Don't think, P’Pai,” Sky tells him, tugging at the hem of his own t-shirt and pulling it over his head, “please,” he begs, moving to kiss Prapai again, harder this time, more insistent.

After a beat, Prapai finally kisses him back, and Sky shoves his hands up Prapai’s t-shirt, lifting it until Prapai takes it off completely, tossing it across the room.

Sky goes for Prapai’s belt next, tugging at the leather to slip the tongue from the hole before sliding the strap through the buckle. He unbuttons Prapai’s jeans, yanking at the zip and slithering his hand inside to palm at his hardening cock through his boxer briefs.

Prapai moans quietly into their kiss, filling Sky with confidence as he delights in the noises he makes when Sky massages at him again.

He guides Sky backwards through the apartment, to the bedroom, and lays Sky out on the bed, sucking kisses into the skin of his torso, revisiting the places that have Sky squirming or biting back a groan.

Slowly, Prapai undresses him, worshiping every inch of his body with soft hands and lips, interspersed with grazes of teeth and scratches of short nails.

Sky arches up into his touch, his cock aching and begging for friction, and he squeezes at the bedsheets to stop from reaching down to take himself in hand. He trusts that Prapai will take care of him, knows that that's all Prapai has ever wanted to do.

He watches when Prapai strips off the rest of his own clothes, enraptured by smooth honeyed skin and the firm muscles that flex beneath it. Biting at his lip, his eyes follow when Prapai pulls open the bedside table drawer and takes a bottle of lube and a condom from inside, before climbing onto the bed into the triangle of space between Sky's spread thighs.

Smiling down at him, Prapai strokes Sky's cheek, “tell me to stop, if you want to stop, okay?”

Nodding absently, Sky pulls his lower lip back between his teeth, his breathing coming heavier, excited and so unbelievably ready for Prapai to have him.

“Sky,” Prapai whispers on a small breath of a laugh, “you need to promise me,” he adds, his expression turning more serious, and Sky makes an effort to gulp down his ravenous need.

“I promise. If I want you to stop, I'll tell you to stop,” Sky tells him, surprised that he means it, surprised that he knows that Prapai would stop. Even lost in his own pleasure, he would only think of Sky.

Prapai finally smiles again, leaning down to kiss Sky's lips, the snick of the lube bottle opening sending heat over Sky's skin as he desperately reaches out for Prapai, needing to touch him. He runs his hands over his shoulders, the muscles jumping under his palms as Prapai coats his own fingers in lube.

When he circles Sky's hole with a warm, wet finger, Sky gasps, attempting to force his body to relax against the impending intrusion.

It doesn't come.

Opening his eyes, that he didn't even realise he had squeezed closed, he meets Prapai’s loving gaze.

He feels his cheeks heat, “I'm sorry, don't stop,” he whispers.

Prapai shakes his head slightly before softly kissing Sky's lips, “don't be sorry,” Prapai whispers back, smiling gently as he teases the pad of his finger against Sky's hole again.

Sky exhales a shaking breath as Prapai steadily breaches him with his finger and drops his head to press a hot trail of open mouthed kisses along Sky's neck.

He opens him up torturously slowly, until Sky is trembling and begging beneath him, and when he finally pushes inside, Sky feels like he could come just from that.

His brain is nothing but Prapai; his hot, humid breath at his neck, the smell of his cologne undercut by the scent that is just him, his pulsing length inside of him.

Feeling unbelievably full, Sky clings to Prapai’s sweat slick shoulders, their eyes on each other, stealing occasional desperate kisses from each other's lips as they moan and gasp with each thrust.

He thinks of having this first with Prapai, the first time anyone has ever truly made love to him, the first time the eyes on him have held anything but filthy lust or unscrupulous power.

The thought of Prapai fucking into him with Gun's blood dried and crusted on his hands has him pulling Prapai closer, his thighs tightening at Prapai's hips.

Sky can feel when Prapai is close, his cock stretching him out as Prapai’s trusts become more frantic.

Before Sky can think to move, Prapai is slinking his hand between their bodies, grasping his fingers around Sky's cock and flicking his wrist to match his own thrusts.

“Fuck,” Sky gasps, “P’Pai,” he moans out, as his fingernails dig rosy crescents into Prapai’s shoulders, and he's answered with a gutteral growl and a frenetic kiss.

They both come like that, tongues and teeth and slick skin, messy and uncoordinated, but everything that Sky could have ever dreamed of, with how intune with each other they are, how blissful he feels.

After disposing of the condom, Prapai pulls him into his arms, embracing him in a tight hug and sighing contentedly, even as their breaths still even out, the drying come and sweat cooling on their bodies, just on the edge of uncomfortable.

With his head resting against Prapai’s sweat-dampened chest, a small, distant voice inside Sky’s head tells him he's worthy, that he could have this, that he might actually deserve it.