Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Is spontaneous combustion a real thing?

The question pops into Sky’s head as he turns the corner, out of breath and absolutely certain that if that random factoid is true, then it won’t be long before he’s a human-sized fireball. He entertains the thought for a cruel second – if he could combust once the person chasing him catches up to him, it might actually be worth it.

The person chasing him. Half an hour ago, that was his boyfriend. The love of his life, a monster disguised by high-prescription rose tinted glasses.

Sky’s rose-tinted glasses.

Because of course this is his fault — his own stupidity has led him here, zigzagging through Bangkok traffic on foot, and for the first time in his life, feeling grateful for the gridlock that plagues the city.

He’s leaner than Gun and has spent more time on the athletic track at school and less time scarring his lungs with cigarette smoke, and so he’s faster. If his brain had cooperated, he might have been rid of him by now.

Alas, his brain is nothing more than a single, screaming cell at that point, yelling at him about fire and being gone.

Sky’s going to get away. It doesn’t matter that his lungs are protesting his every move, or that a cramp is working its way up his right leg, or that he isn’t sure where his phone is and how he’s going to get to his uncle's flat at the other end of the city with no money – none of that matters right now.

All he needs to do now is to lose Gun, to get away.

That’s when his eyes decide to stop working. The world goes blurry around him and it takes him a minute to register that it’s all thanks to the tears.

He’s crying. For what? For whom?

Furiously, Sky wipes his face with his forearm, staining it a shade of diluted red. Blood. He remembers now, the blow to his nose, right after Gun had called him a waste of space. He’s supposed to see his Pa in five days at his school graduation. How is he going to explain the state of his face?

Later.

He’ll worry about it later. Right now…

Sky turns onto an unfamiliar road, a dark void lined with tall office buildings and the odd palm tree. The pavement is devoid of life, which means it’s way past business hours and unless Sky finds refuge in the shadows, it’ll be the end of him too. He trips over badly-lit stairs, nearly twists his ankle as he bolts to the first building he sees, praying the pillars will be enough to conceal him, hoping for once that Gun will be true to form and not pay him any attention.

Please please please.

Ignore me. I’m nothing. Just…ignore me.

Sky curls into the dark, tries his best to look as close to invisible as possible. Still — he needs to stay as still as he can.

This is not something his body can come to terms with. On cue, tremors wreck through Sky and threaten to give him away. His heart punches at his ribcage,and Sky’s thoughts shift from spontaneous combustion to death by escaped heart…

Please please please.

No more.

Let Gun not find him.

Just once, can’t he be lucky?

Sky doesn’t even look when the angry footsteps come to a stop somewhere close by,

Go. Go!

Please Please Please.

Gun’s never been silent or stealthy — it’s not his style to be secretive. Which is another reason why Sky’s an idiot, because Gun wasn’t secretive. Gun didn’t hide his digressions, his incriminating text messages, his contempt for Sky and all the things that mattered to him.

And yet, here he is.

Your fault. His mind rattles at him.

Shut Up. Sky pleads with it. Not now. Just until he’s gone, until it’s over.

Because for all his stupidity, Sky’s never told Gun where he lives. Or rather, Gun never cared enough to enquire.

That should have been the first red flag. That Sky only mattered in the moments when he was serving Gun, a puppet relegated to a shelf when Gun was done with him. But red doesn’t look like anything through rose-tinted glasses.

The footsteps switch direction, grow more scattered, more distant and Sky finally dares to squint at the darkness behind him.

It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust.

Another to register that it is devoid of any glowering monsters.

He’s alone.

Sky allows himself a minute to reset. He crumples to the ground, scratching his cheek against the rough wall as he screws his eyes shut and tries to box it all out.

The footsteps return and Sky’s eyes snap open even though he knows it’s too late. His body won’t cooperate now.

He can’t run, can barely see, barely breathe.

His father.

His father will be here in five days.

Please.

“...boy? You okay?” The shoes are the first thing Sky sees.

They’re different from Gun’s.

Dark trousers. White shirt. A badge.

A security guard.

In the grand scheme of things, this is a plus. Another person that Sky can plead with if Gun returns.

I need help. His throat is too dry for the words to make it out. He opens his mouth and tastes salt and iron. He must look like a mess, like trouble, a deterrent to anyone who might come to his aid.

Help.

His father always tells him he needs to get better at asking for help, but Sky never thought he’d need to, he’s used to doing everything on his own.

That seems like a really stupid way to live at the moment.

If he’d had help…

If someone had noticed…

If he’d shared the trouble with Gun with someone…

“Sorry Khun, I just saw him fall here, I’ve not seen him before.”

“ — You guys think he’s okay?”

“He’s a kid, Jesus. I really need a drink now.”

“Do you think he was mugged, Khun?”

“I’ll catch up to you guys…”

The phantom sound of voices drifts in. None of them are Gun is all that Sky is able to register from his spot against the wall. Maybe it’s all in his head, maybe he's finally lost his grip on reality.

Someone touches his arm, too close to the inflamed indentations left behind by Gun's nails.Sky recoils instinctively as the fingers graze his shoulder, and they are withdrawn immediately.

“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Are you okay? Are you…” The voice floats away, as Sky’s vision blurs again because he’s not okay. Isn’t it obvious?

Second Voice repositions themselves until they’re in Sky’s field of vision, close enough to be a discernable shape. A face, the features coming in and out of focus, but distinct enough for Sky to know that it’s not Gun.

That’s his current standard of safety: Not Gun.

“...your name? I’m P…” He’s too tired to understand language.

His flat. He has to get to his flat. His father… he needs to clean the kitchen… five days…his father.

He tries to get to his feet. Tries to wai to the two Not-Guns, both an expression of gratitude and a plea : please, don’t be like him. No more monsters. He can’t…

His legs protest again and threaten to give up on him. The world tilts as Sky collapses against the wall again.

This time he doesn’t feel the sting on his face.

Because it never comes to that. He's hovering inches from the wall. With magic.

No, that’s not it. He’s being held.

The impulse to fight kicks back in and if Sky weren’t so tired, so past it, he’d win, he’d kick and bite his way out,but he doesn’t have it in him anymore.

“Relax. Please, let me help you.”

His second attempt at registering Not Gun’s face is far more successful. Big eyes, shiny hair, expensive business suit, no piercings, no cigarette-stench. He is so different in appearance from Gun that the knot in Sky’s chest loosens just enough to let him catch his breath, find his voice again.

“Your face…we should go to the hospital.” Not Gun has a nice voice, low, calm, devoid of the twang that Sky associates with judgment and malice.

“No.” Sky manages to croak, his hands wrap themselves around the stranger’s forearm as he makes a feeble attempt to break free. No, no hospital. He’s only seventeen, they’ll call his registered guardian, his Pa…

“N-no, please.” It chokes him, the plea for help.

“Okay.” The Stranger is quick to comply. “Okay, no hospital. Can I drive you home?”

His uncle’s flat. On the other end of town. Dark and empty. Unless his uncle’s home…

“Please.” Sky tries again. “I'll just stay here…” Because where else can he go? He just needs to be by himself. Just needs to think, be away from anyone who might ask.

Here, wherever this is, is okay. As long as he sticks to the shadows, as long as Gun doesn’t come back.

The pressure on his arms fades away as the stranger lets go of him. To Sky’s own surprise, he manages to stay upright. If he can just lean against this wall… he can stay here until the morning when everything will be okay, because that’s how it works, right? The morning light is an antidote to nightmares.

“Okay.” The stranger agrees again. “You can stay here, but nong, can we go inside? Look, you’re shivering.”

Inside? Away from the dark street that Gun might return to?

Yes, Sky decides. He can go inside.

Careful. The voice that lives in his mind cautions him.

I’ll kick. Somehow, I’ll kick. I’ll scratch those shiny eyes. If this is Bad.

***

As an intern, Prapai is used to the late nights reading casework and sifting through his seniors’ workload. It’s served as a bonding ritual for all the interns – they work hard all day and then whine about the workload and clink beer mugs and initiate a game of darts at the local bar, where all the other lawyer hopefuls congregate at the end of the day to reclaim their sanity. It doesn’t help that most of them have just turned twenty and are still adapting to the rush of power that comes with being able to order endless rounds of drinks.

Tonight, Prapai knows, it is going to be different.

It is their last workday together before they return to their universities for another year of mock trials and legal theory. In less than eight hours, Prapai is going to be up in the air, on his way to England for a semester abroad. Plerng’s already whining about having him as a roommate, already threatening to kick him out if he’s not “aesthetic enough” for his UAL friend group.

Needless to say, they’re both looking forward to it.

He has a checklist of things to do before he leaves.

He needs to send his mother his flight information because she’ll insist on tracking it until he lands. Phan will probably cry and say it’s because she won’t have anyone to bother for half a year and then she will scowl at him when he tells her she should probably focus on graduating school.

He needs to text Phayu, who might be at the airport, on his way to Hong Kong for a sustainable design competition, because for some reason he’s best friends with a genius.

Before all of that, though, he has to go get a drink with his group, and maybe, just maybe, if that cute bartender with the pink hair is on duty today…well, he might finally go up to her and see if she fancies some fun after her shift is over.

All of those plans go for a toss as soon as they step out of the premises, where P’ Arm, the security guard who’s been instructed to forget the fact that Prapai’s the boss’ son, leans over a shaking silhouette, asking questions that have so far gone unanswered. The other members of his group notice this deviation from normal routine as well. On any other day, they might have been more sympathetic, today their moral compass has been replaced by the need to celebrate and end the day on a high note.

Prapai will try not to hold it against them.

He waves them off and approaches P’Arm, who as it turns out, can tell him nothing more than the fact that the boy came from the main road, and that he looks hurt.

Prapai can see it now, the streaks of red on his arms and around his nose. He can’t be older than seventeen, barely older than Phan, almost as old as Plerng. His siblings are dancing their way through life, protected and looked after at every turn. This boy looks battered, in all the ways that it is possible to be.

It's not right.

So Prapai tries his best to figure out how to be of help. The boy recoils at his touch, which is never a good sign. Prapai tries again, offers to take him to the hospital. This is the wrong thing to suggest because the boy panics and tries – actually tries to get back on his feet and bolt. His shoes are streaked with mud and his legs are wobbly, worn out from the exertion. How long has he been running for? Prapai holds on to him again, before he can go propelling into the wall. Fine, no hospital. The assurance calms him down. Still, the kid’s going to need first aid, and some food and water, and judging by the way he’s shaking, some warmth.

There’s only one quick solution in sight.

Prapai uses his best placating tone to convince the kid into heading into the office building with him. Just until the lobby, where there is a sofa and a water fountain, coffee and a vending machine.

He doesn’t like it — Prapai can tell by the way his body tenses. But then reason takes over, and the boy agrees to walk the ten steps to the door, with support from Prapai who is allowed to wrap an arm around his skinny waist, even though the contact makes him flinch. A fresh current of anger jolts through Prapai because none of this is okay.

Prapai’s never been more thankful for the overstuffed eyesore of a sofa that takes centre position in their lobby. He eases the boy onto the soft surface and watches as he almost instantly curls up into a ball, his gaze fixed on his knees as he wraps his arms around them.

“Here.” Prapai shrugs out of his suit jacket and drapes it across the boy’s shoulders, adjusting the sleeves so they drape snugly across his front. “I’m going to get you a hot chocolate. Is that okay?”

The boy mutters something unintelligible, his gaze unfaltering as it remains resolutely on his knees.

He’s still there, Prapai realises, still tangled up mentally in whatever situation he’s tried to escape. Now is not the time for any questions, to prod for answers. He needs to help.

Prapai doesn’t know enough to know how to help. A hospital is out of the question. A parent or the police will likely have the same effect. Touching him, trying to comfort him, well, that one’s ambiguous. So Prapai decides his best bet is to look after the basics – warmth, food, drink.

The boy accepts the vending machine hot chocolate mechanically.

Good, that’s a good sign.

Prapai tries his luck with a packet of crackers.

They remain untouched, but the boy finally looks at him, follows his every move with his bloodshot eyes. Like he’s assessing him for threats.

Even now, with his bloodied nose and scraped face, he’s sizing him up, considering a fight.

It breaks his heart, but Prapai has to respect the boy’s fierceness.

First aid— that’s next on his list. Prapai sets the box down on the table in front of the sofa and opens it with careful, slow precision, giving the boy enough time to see and process what he’s doing.

“I’m going to use this gauze to clean up your nose, and then I’m going to disinfect the cut on your face. Okay?” He holds up each item.

He’s met with the most imperceptible of nods.

“It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.” Careful to keep his touch nothing more than feather-light, Prapai cleans up the boy as adeptly as he can. He’s no medical expert, so it’s just as well that the boy doesn’t need any stitches, and he must not be as bad as he thinks he is, because the boy’s eyes flutter and close with every swipe of the cotton against his cheekbone; he’s practically passed out by the time Prapai’s done.

That, too, has to be a good sign.

Prapai’s phone buzzes in his pocket. A message from one of his colleagues, asking about his whereabouts, telling him the cute bartender with the hot pink hair is behind the counter, serving drinks and winking at patrons like she’s wont to do.

Opposite him, the kid sways and falls on his side, too out of it to even register the change in his position as he hits the velvety surface of the sofa.

The pink-haired bartender will find someone else to entertain her.

Prapai reaches for the crackers and claims an even uglier armchair next to the sofa. He won’t let his father take the furniture with him when they move into the new building next year.

He texts his sister, sets an appropriate bribe for her to load his bags into the car because he won’t be home for goodbyes after all.

***

The morning light stabs Sky into wakefulness, bringing with it all the panic of the previous night. He jolts awake, immediately regretting the swiftness of his movements as his entire skeleton threatens to shatter. Tentatively, he tries to raise a hand to his face and finds that he does have control of his limbs.

He’s okay. He’s in pain and everything hurts and he has the worst headache in the history of the world, but he’s okay.

And he has no idea where he is.

No.

No.

No!

Did Gun catch up to him after all? Is this another motel? Another ‘surprise’ parading around as a gift for Sky, when in reality, it was always only a reward for Gun, to celebrate his benevolence for keeping Sky around?

It’s not a motel, Sky follows the chequered tiles to a deserted lift lobby. A lobby. He’s in a lobby.

A patchwork of memories swims around his throbbing head, none of which he can make sense of: walls, hospitals, big eyes and shiny hair, the smell of betadine and chocolate, a warm jacket.

This jacket. Sky inspects the green fabric draped around his shoulders. Absently, he rummages in its pockets for clues.

A folded piece of paper with a messy scrawl that Sky struggles to read because his eyes are still sore from all the crying.

Sorry I had to leave. In case you don’t remember, I made you a hot drink and disinfected your cuts. Your phone is on the charger by the potted plant. There’s money in the other pocket, use it to take a cab, or for anything else you might need. If you need a place to stay, or the hospital, look for P’Arm, the security guard. You can trust him.

Keep the jacket, green’s your colour. : )

Sky rereads the note, barely believing its contents because it’s so unexpected, so absolutely beyond anything he’s come to expect from people. He goes through the other pocket, and finds a wad of currency notes, too much to give to a stranger, enough to get him a hotel room if he were so inclined. A fresh wave of shame engulfs him when it becomes clear that Sky doesn’t even remember the face of the person who’s just shown him such immense kindness.

He doesn’t know anything.

His fault. His fault.

Sky just wants to go back to the flat and sleep and shut it all out until he has to mask his weariness for his father.

Four days.

Four days should be enough to get over it. It has to be.

He coaxes his body to function, puts one foot in front of the other until he gets to his phone, thankful that he still has it, that he didn’t lose it during his escape.

There is a single message on his screen.

Gun: Don’t come back.

Bloody waste of time.

Sky blocks the contact, amazed at himself because after being tossed around like a rag doll last night, today he feels nothing.

Empty. Drained.

He rereads the message before he erases it. Such abject cruelty expressed in the most mundane string of words.

Gun couldn’t take anything from him now because there’s nothing left to give.

He suppresses the sob that threatens to escape from his lips. No more, he won’t cry for this. He’s just cold, he decides, as he drapes the jacket tighter around him and slinks out of the office building.

The security guard, perhaps P’Arm, looks up as Sky steps out onto the pavement.

“Let me get you a taxi.” The middle-aged man bypasses all awkward small talk and flags one down for Sky.

“Thank you.” Sky’s voice is still little above a whisper but the man acknowledges it with a smile. “Will…you tell him too?” He has no name and no face, but the guard understands. “I’ll let him know.”

And that seems like an appropriate enough close to an unexpected, unpleasant chapter of his life.

He’s okay. He’s just cold.

He never has to come back here again.

***

Chapter Text

---Ten Years Later---

The house that the cab drops Sky off at is very literally a thing out of an architect's dream, which makes sense, considering it belongs to P'Phayu, referred to in architectural circles as the Prodigy, but whom Sky knows as his best friend's boyfriend. A boyfriend that he's very serious about, which is why Sky's here, to officially meet the man that Rain has talked about ad nauseum for the last three months now. He already knows everything about Phayu, from his favourite colour, to the scent of his shampoo, to — unfortunately for Sky — the skill with which he is able to carry Rain to bed every night. He knows too much about this man and yet, so far, hasn't found one quality that would cause him worry. Rain's really done it, found a good one, someone that treats him right, and Sky is happy for him. Which is why he's here, bottle of wine in hand, and mentally prepared to socialise with Phayu and his friend circle over dinner and resigned to the fact that Rain will introduce him with adjectives that Sky definitely does not deserve.

That the dinner is here in this architectural marvel that Phayu literally won an architecture prize for — Sky's going to have to try very hard to concentrate on the people and not the perfect angles that he sees everywhere.

Rain flings the door open seconds after Sky rings the doorbell.

“You're here, you're here!” He hurls himself at Sky, a mess of blond hair and outstretched arms. His best friend is grinning wider than usual - a feat that Sky didn't know he was capable of - as he leads him into the house, pausing whenever Sky stops in his tracks to stare open-mouthed at another camouflaged conduit, another pristinely panelled niche. “P'Phayu's a genius.” Rain tells him happily, and Sky has no reason to challenge that assertion.

“This is beautiful.”

“I'm glad you think so.” Rain's boyfriend, a lean man who reminds Sky of a prowling panther, joins them in the open plan living room. He wraps an arm around Rain's shoulder and uses the other to point at the lights on the ceiling. “Those are all solar powered.”

“Amazing.” Sky means it.

“Again, I'm so glad you feel that way.” Phayu smiles at him. “It's been a while since I had an architecture professor compliment my work.”

“Please.” Sky rolls his eyes, not at Phayu, but at Rain, who has to have been the one spreading this false news. “I'm a glorified substitute teacher at best.”

“Yeah, but at the faculty.” Rain interrupts him. “Which is a big deal and we don't celebrate that enough.”

Phayu nods, which Sky suspects is his attempt to get into his boyfriend's best friend's good books. Well, it’s working.

“It's only a matter of time. Once they go through all your work on building carbon-neutral structures rooted in indigenous knowledge traditions, they'll have to fight other faculties for you.”

“You've read my work?” That seems like a step too far on the road to win the best friend's approval.

“That’s how we met.” Rain chimes in, this story Sky’s not heard before. “I saw him reading that magazine article about that cafe you did in Krabi and I had to tell him that you were my best friend.”

“That’s not the whole truth.” Phayu nudges Rain who pouts at him and concedes with a sigh. “Fine. I thought I saw him frowning at the page so I told –”

“Threatened.” Phayu amends with a smirk.

“ – him that he wished he could be half as good as you.”

“We were at a conference, and Rain here didn’t like my presentation.” The look Phayu directs at Rain is a mix of amusement and thinly-veiled reverence.

“Please.” Rain is quick to defend himself. “I couldn’t pay attention to your presentation because you were so annoyingly hot.” Rain melts into him, as Phayu’s hand comes up to pat Rain’s cheek. “And I wasn’t going to be happy if it turned out that you didn’t like my best friend in the whole world.”

"You looked pretty good too, while you were yelling n'Sky's résumé at me." Phayu tucks a random strand of hair behind Rain's ear. They look at each other with such unabashed adoration that Sky has to look away because it feels like he’s intruding on something not meant for him.

“We went to that cafe on our last trip.” Phayu turns to Sky and picks up the conversation where they left off. Sky remembers the trip, Rain had flooded his messages with photos. “And I really did think it was perfect. I wasn’t frowning.” Rain pouts as Phayu looks sternly at him, like they’ve had this conversation several times over. “It’s just my face.”

Sky believes it. Even now, relaxed in his home and with a smile on his face and a blushing Rain in his arms, there is something inherently intimidating about Phayu.

“How about a house tour?” Phayu offers as he steers them towards the kitchen.

Fine, Rain’s boyfriend can have his stamp of approval.

***

They are joined on the house tour by Phayu’s twin Saifah, his friends – a pair of stern-faced men who never really introduce themselves, a handful of Phayu’s colleagues from work, and Phayu’s best friend — a slick-haired man with a staring problem.

Sky dismisses it at first, when they are walking around the kitchen and the living room. Maybe he’s just familiar with the space and doesn’t need to listen and so he’s zoning out, or perhaps he’s just looking over Sky’s shoulder at one of the shelves, or maybe Sky's just on edge, unaccustomed to sharing space with people he doesn't know. Then they move upstairs to the game room, fitted with a home entertainment system, an old-school arcade machine that Phayu maintains himself, and a vertical flower garden that should not work in the setting, but really, really does because they don’t call Phayu a genius for nothing. They’re surrounded by the sort of creativity that belongs in a magazine spread, and yet, when Sky turns away from the coffee table that Phayu’s fashioned out of old motorcycle parts from his father’s garage, he finds that Best Friend’s eyes are fixed on him.

It’s going to be like that, is it?

This time, Sky holds his gaze, returning the stare with double intensity. In most cases, that does the trick, elicits a mumbled apology — usually something about not paying attention— and a hasty retreat.

No such luck in this instance. Best Friend misreads the attention as his cue to speak.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” He smiles as he steps closer to Sky, as if a better view of his face will help jog Sky’s memory. Really, are people still falling for this? What’s next — ‘your hand looks heavy, can I hold it for you?’ Something about falling from heaven?

Sky pointedly buries his hands in his pockets as he looks over the man’s shoulder at the sound system set up. “Does that work for you?”

Best Friend frowns at the question, like he hadn’t expected his plan to fail so swiftly. Well, he should have thought up something original then, instead of ripping off a line from every college guy at any bar on any given weekend.

“I don’t know.” Best Friend shrugs as he owns up to the failed ploy. “You tell me?” His voice is clear and devoid of any embarrassment as he answers Sky’s question with one of his own.

This is P’Phayu’s best friend, and Sky likes P’Phayu.

Sky chants the reminder a couple more times as he fights the urge to walk away.

If he had to be objective about this, he’d say that the man is good looking, handsome enough to get away with the fact that he’s shown up at a casual house party in a full suit. On anyone else it might have been pretentious, overkill. On him, the tailored fawn fabric only serves to compliment the tanned skin, the big brown eyes and the raven black hair that frames his face like a crown. But the fact that he’s handsome is irrelevant, because the man is a starer and a user of outdated pick-up lines, and that relegates him to the bottom of Sky’s list.

If Sky had a list, which he doesn’t. Because he doesn’t do this.

He returns his attention to the very interesting bare wall behind the aggravating man before he speaks again.

“No.” Sky keeps his tone cool, disinterested, pretends he’s reprimanding a group of unruly students. “It doesn’t.”

The man sighs as he shakes his head. “Guess I’ve been out of it too long.”

Yeah, Sky believes that this man — the very same one who’s spent the past hour, when he hasn’t been staring at Sky, waving at people and asking them questions about their day — spends his weekends meditating in silence.

“Have you ever been sued?” The Starer changes track abruptly.

“Excuse me?” But the man’s already shaking his head, moving on. “No, it’s not that. It would make sense if you were Ai Fah’s friend, but you’re friends with Rain so… He cuts his rambling short with another grin. “Pay me no heed.”

“I really wasn’t.” The sincerity in Sky’s tone is genuine.

“Ouch." Best Friend shakes his head as he steps out of Sky’s way so he can take a closer look at the corner they’ve drifted into. "I thought Rain’s friends would be as nice as him.”

Sky scoffs at the implication, because if that’s how it’s supposed to work, the Starer shouldn’t exist in the same orbit as P’Phayu.

“And I thought P’Phayu’s friends would be…” More original in their pick-up lines? More broody? More unapproachable? “...quieter.” Sky decides.

“Yeah, well.” Best Friend sucks his teeth as he looks contemplatively at the bookshelf in front of them, stacked with coffee table books, and on a lower shelf, a collection of manga that Sky recognises as Rain’s. “One of us had to be the charming, likeable one.”

“You’re right.” Sky abandons all restraint as he runs a finger across the carved wooden surface. “P’Phayu is really likeable.”

“I…wow.” Best Friend blinks once, twice as his decidedly uncharming smile falters. “I walked right into that one.” He mumbles at his socks, which Sky notices are covered in multicoloured stars.

So he can be quiet.

“Sky!” Rain interrupts the rare moment of silence when he waves at him from the door. “C’mon, P’Phayu’s making drinks!”

Alcohol sounds like an excellent idea.

***

An hour and a whole dinner later, Sky on his second margarita, the best one he's ever had, because in addition to all his professional talents, Phayu is also a skilled mixologist.

“Is there anything your boyfriend can’t do?” Sky asks when Rain sidles up to him, uncoordinated and flushed, and halfway through his third drink. The other guests have said their goodbyes and left, and Rain and Sky have retreated to a corner of the living room, out of earshot of the others.

“No.” Rain declares with a happy sigh. “He’s perfect.”

“He has some odd friends…” The words are loud enough only for Rain to pick up. Across from them, Phayu is in conversation with the starer who is nursing a tall glass of something clear.

If he’s a vodka guy, that’s another strike against him.

Sky stops himself before the non-existent list can make a comeback. Let the man drink whatever concoction he deems fit, what’s it to Sky?

“Who? P’Pai?” Rain’s been following his gaze, or maybe he’s just been staring at his boyfriend like the lovesick puppy that he is. The latter, most likely. “He’s alright. A bit cheesy—” Yeah, Sky knows. “ — but he’s smarter than he looks - he’s a lawyer at some fancy firm downtown.”

“Could have fooled me…” Sky trails off as Phayu and his friend join their huddle.

“Pai, this is Sky, Rain’s best friend.”

It is only because Phayu’s looking on that Sky acknowledges the man at Phayu’s elbow. Best Friend — Pai — raises his glass at him, his eyes sparkling with barely-camouflaged amusement. “We’ve met. He thinks I’m noisy.”

“He’s right.” Phayu agrees before Sky can properly defend himself. “I call the headache pills in the first aid box my ‘Pai Pills’.”

“That’s–” Pai jabs a finger at Phayu in mock outrage.

“It’s only defamation if it’s false.” Phayu recites, deadpan. The accusatory finger is lowered as Pai takes a long sip of his drink.

“Unbelievable. Using my own words against me.”

Rain, who’s been uncharacteristically still against Sky’s shoulder, suddenly jumps into action.

“P’Pai, Ai Sky…hey, your names rhyme!” Rain claps Sky on the back, which sends a mini tsunami across the margarita in his hands. The overflow would hit Pai square in his chest, but the man is quick to sidestep the spill, much to Sky’s chagrin.

“Sweet boy, are you tipsy?” Phayu manoeuvres a protesting Rain away from Sky and into his arms.

“No, I’m just speaking facts.” Rain protests through a fresh fit of giggles. “Let me go, P’Phayu.” Rain mock struggles against his boyfriend’s embrace.

“Never.”

Ugh, they’re disgusting.

“Is he holding you against your will, N’Rain?” Pai glares at his best friend. “Because I can help with that.” He raises his hands at Phayu, with the solemnity of a surgeon asking for the scalpel.

Phayu scowls at him.

“I swear Pai, if you tickle me —”

“Just give me the go ahead, N’Rain.” Pai ignores his friend and smiles brightly at the man in his arms, as he wiggles his fingers suggestively. “Ben showed me some new techniques. I’d love to test them out.”

“You’re supposed to be teaching him.” There’s no malice in Phayu’s tone, and Sky knows instinctively and from personal experience that these are just two best friends messing around, and that maybe, as unbelievable as it is, Phayu’s been at the receiving end of one too many tickle attacks.

Pai flexes his fingers again, stars dancing in his eyes as Phayu’s scowl deepens. “I’m open to learning new things.” He winks at Rain. “I’m at your command, N’Rain.”

Rain waves him away with an exaggerated sigh.

“P’Pai, weapons down please. I’m good.” Rain sighs dramatically even as he pushes deeper into Phayu’s embrace. “I signed up for this.”

“A contractual obligation.” Pai nods in comprehension as he lowers his hands. “Yep, that’s a tough one to negotiate.”

“I know. I’m a goner.” Rain sounds elated at the prospect as he gets on his tiptoes to kiss Phayu’s jaw.

Like Sky said, disgusting.

Sky looks away from the saccharine sweetness before it gives him a toothache and finds that there is really nowhere else to look other than at Prapai, at the crinkles around his eyes as he rolls them at his best friend. Well, they have that in common.

Pai chooses the exact moment to look away from the couple and at Sky instead, letting his eyes once again take inventory of his features. Sky feels heat rise to his face, radiate into his cheeks as Pai’s eyes bore into him like he’s some sort of museum specimen. It’s no different from what Sky was doing just minutes ago, but with the roles reversed, Sky finds that he is nervous, and that it has nothing to do with the fact that he thinks the man has a staring problem.

“Seriously, are you sure—”

“I would remember.” The words are out before he can think them through. He compensates by glaring harder, just to make sure Prapai doesn’t mistake the barb for a compliment. “Someone as annoying as you? I’d remember.”

Pai laughs at this, as if he doesn’t know what the word means, or he’s been described as such so often that the adjective has lost its bite. “And I don’t usually forget a pretty face. Yet here we are…”

It’s too loud, loud enough for Phayu and Rain to hear, if they weren’t so distracted by each other…

“Does that one work for you?” Sky retaliates as he takes a step back, suddenly aware of how warm it is in this corner, despite the air conditioning.

“I think,” Pai assesses Sky through narrowed eyes. “It might.”

“You’re delusional.” Sky downs his margarita, deluding himself into believing the citrus in it will do anything to cool him down. It has the opposite effect, the tequila adds fresh fuel to the burn he feels across his face.

Pai's only answer to that is to take a long swig of his drink. Sky hates him.

“P’Pai.” Rain pushes himself out of Phayu’s embrace and turns to them, a sudden clarity in his eyes. “Are you bothering Sky?” Then, before Pai can even open his mouth, Rain launches himself towards them and wraps Sky up in a side hug, like a very drunk sloth clinging to a very tired tree. “You’d better not be mean to my best Sky…or… I’ll…” Rain’s legs splay out under him as he tries to kick at air, Sky grabs onto his waist just to keep his friend upright. “...kick you!”

“Oh?” Pai turns to Phayu, a wounded expression on his face. “Ai Phayu, your boyfriend’s threatening me.”

“Good.” Phayu snaps as he practically lifts Rain off of Sky to reorient him. “We’re going to go hang out by ourselves now. You can go find a corner to lurk in.”

“Is that how you treat your best friend?” Pai looks stricken at Phayu’s lack of hospitality.

“Yes.” The stern facade once again melts away for a smile as Phayu turns to Sky. “Make yourself at home. Stay the night if you’d like, you know where the guest room is.”

Sky thanks him but turns down the offer. “I have an early morning – first day at the university.”

“Our Sky’s a fancy university professor.” Rain trills for the benefit of the entire room, which, luckily for Sky, is empty save the four of them.

“Alright, pop star, bed.” Phayu tightens his grip around Rain’s waist as he turns him in the direction of the staircase. “I’ll spare you the high notes. Good luck with tomorrow, Sky, and congratulations, again, Rain’s right – it is a big deal.”

Sky’s never going to convince anybody that it’s really not.

He won’t deny that he isn't excited at the prospect of returning to a classroom though. In many ways, his focus on the field is what’s kept him going, brought him this far, protected him from the madness that rages in his mind on a bad day. People find different ways to cope, and for Sky, his craft has been his tether to sanity. He’s worked hard for it, dedicated years of his life to it, which is why he has this coveted temporary teaching position, and not much more. No social life, no real friendships outside of Rain who has been his light in the darkness since university.

The job isn’t an achievement, it’s just another band aid that Sky gets to slap over a slow-healing wound so he can make it through another day, another week, another year— It’s not something he deserves, it’s something he needs.

“Earth to the Professor!” Pai waves a hand in front of him.

“What?” Sky snaps, unamused at being nicknamed by this overenthusiastic stranger, who is now the only other person in the room, besides him.

“I wondered.” Pai smiles at him, so painfully obtuse. “If I could give you a ride home.”

“You’re going to drive?” Sky nods at the empty glass in his hand.

“I’m good. The legal limit for tonic water and soda is…five hundred litres?”

No vodka.

“I have a cab coming.” It’s a lie, but only for the next few minutes as Sky pulls up the app on his phone.

***

Curse every cab in the city, and curse people having a social life on a Sunday night. Sky groans as the fourth cab of the night cancels on him. So he’s discovered a downside to Phayu’s perfect house — it’s too far away to be taken seriously by cab drivers on a weekend night.

“No luck?”

Sky glares at the man seated across from him. Phayu and Rain have disappeared upstairs, at Sky’s insistence, and mostly because Rain has started reciting a list of all of ‘his P’Phayu's’ perfections, and Sky does not want to be there when his friend gets to the more…anatomical entities on that list. P’Phayu must share that sentiment, because Rain has been whisked off to the bedroom, with Phayu once more telling him that he is more than welcome to spend the night. Respectfully, Sky does not want to spend the night, doesn’t want to overhear anymore declarations of how perfect his P’Phayu is. Especially not if they’re going to be shouted from the bedroom.

“You should leave.” Sky sounds like a broken record at this point. His efforts to get rid of Pai have been in vain, the man insists that he can’t leave until Sky does.

“I’m fine. I’ll leave when you do.” Pai stretches out on the sofa, casual, at home.

Too casual, as if he’s trying to prove a point, as if he knows something Sky doesn’t.

“My cab will be here soon.”

“Good. I’ll walk you to it.”

“I don’t need you to walk me to it.”

“I know. I’m going to, anyway.” Pai shrugs.

“I don’t want you to.”

“Yeah, but I want to.”

And it goes on and on and on, like they’re stuck in an endless loop. Sky sighs resignedly. If Pai wants to spend his night following Sky’s misadventures with the cab app, that’s his problem.

Ding!

Sky’s stares at the notification on his phone and suppresses the urge to curse at cancellation number 5.

A dull thump overhead is followed by the sound of muffled giggling – P’Phayu didn’t soundproof the house…that’s another point off the perfect hundred Sky would have given it at the start of the evening.

“Fine.” Sky concedes, finally accepting defeat. “Can you give me a lift…. please?” He adds, through gritted teeth.

Pai is on his feet in an instant, just as a second thud resonates through the ceiling. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“You should talk to someone about that.” Sky mutters as he walks to the door, leaving Pai to play catch up.

***

The drive back is almost pleasant. Pai surprises him by not staring at anything other than the road, by not using this opportunity alone with Sky to run another list of expired pickup lines by him.

“Here’s fine.” Sky tells him as the bus stop closest to his apartment emerges up ahead.

“You sure? I can drop you at your place—”

“Here’s fine.” Sky reiterates, suddenly anxious to get away from it all, back to the tranquility of his empty flat.

To Pai’s credit, he stops immediately. Sky snaps off his seatbelt and pushes open the door, half-turning to mutter a quick ‘thank you’ to the man, because even when he’s lost in his head, he has manners.

“Sky.” He turns again at his name and peers at Pai through the open window. “Is it a bad call if I ask for your number?”

“What for?” Sky could kick himself, because it’s a yes/no answer, and Sky already knows the answer to it.

“Well…” Pai leans over the steering wheel so he can see Sky better. “Our best friends are pretty serious about each other.”

So, it's a formality, a thing to tick off a box when your best friends fall in love. It’s no big deal, just an integration that, though annoying, makes perfect logistical sense.

“And I’d like to get to know you better.”

That sounds more like an attempt at something else.

And it makes Sky’s skin crawl.

Careful to keep his gaze on his feet so he doesn’t make accidental eye contact and open himself to another monologue, Sky opens the car door.

“Sky.” His silence isn’t the deterrent Sky hoped it would be, and Sky really shouldn’t react, but instinct makes him turn around at the sound of his name.

From behind the wheel, his seatbelt still on, that stupid smile that’s followed him all evening still on his lips, Pai speaks one last time. “Good luck for tomorrow.”

“Goodbye, Pai.” He turns away from the car and focuses on making his way home.

***

Chapter Text

“So?” Rain steals a sip out of Sky’s cortado, in his words, to check on whether the university cafe is as good as it used to be when they were students. He declares that it is. “Two weeks down, how does it feel?”

“Good.” It’s the truth for the most part. Work has been good, challenging and unexpected in the best ways. His students are earnest and driven, and genuinely seem to enjoy their classes with him, despite the hands-on project work that Sky sets them. He’s not a whole lot older than him, there are PhD students in the faculty that are older, but so far, his age has not been a hindrance, there are no Som-types in this batch, trying to tie respect to age. No, work has been good — great, actually.

It’s what happens after he’s home that’s keeping him from enjoying the process.

It’s not unexpected, Sky always knew that there was a possibility that this job would really test him. The university, this architecture faculty, which is where he met Rain, represents some of the best years of Sky’s life and a return to this familiar haunt should, rationally speaking, bring him comfort.

The problem isn’t the university, it’s Sky’s relationship with the Past, in general. His Past — capital P because it is a creature at this point, one that follows him around like a loyal but rabid dog, biting at his ankles every time he gets too comfortable in his skin.

The university isn’t the problem, Sky just hates to return to closed chapters, doesn’t like to look back because it’s not nostalgia that’s waiting in his shadowy memories.

There are only three exceptions to this rule.

His father, who still lives in Sky’s childhood home in Lopburi, and represents all the happiness of the first fifteen years of his life; Rain, who has moved through life with him, and is too full of life to be relegated to a remnant of his past, and the Jacket which is still as verdant green as it was the night the stranger draped it over him a decade ago, the most expensive item on Sky's dry cleaning list, his only beacon of light in the oppressive murkiness of that time of Sky’s life.

Most nights, especially when the dark thoughts take hold and threaten to choke the breath out of him, Sky reaches for the jacket on the pillow next to him and lets it remind him in those darkest hours when morning seems so far away, that there is light, that it’s okay, that he’s still winning.

It might be stupid, embarrassing to cling to a piece of clothing for his sanity, but Sky’s not going to shun a remedy that works.

“You’re not listening.” Rain kicks him under the table, his platform crocs grazing the frayed denim of Sky's jeans.

“Guess why that is?” Sky bluffs, because this is the more effective method of getting Rain to repeat himself without Sky having to admit that he was indeed out of it.

“Because I’m talking about P’Pai again and you don’t want to talk about it.” Rain hides behind his iced latte.

Twice Rain’s tried to ask in his characteristic not-so-subtle way, what Sky thinks of Phayu’s best friend. It’s not an innocent question, and has nothing to do with the fact that Rain wants the best friends to get along. No, Rain is convinced that Pai and Sky had a moment at his party, and Sky’s accusation that one, they did not have a moment, and two, even if they had, Rain would not have noticed, considering he was burrowed into Phayu for the better half of that evening, has done nothing to change his friend’s opinion.

“C’mon. I think the two of you would be really cute together.”

“You told me he was annoying.”

“I told you he annoys P’Phayu. Like I annoy you. That’s not criticism.” Rain plops back in his seat, his arms crossed in front of him. “What’s wrong with giving him a shot? He’s clearly interested — he asked for your number.” This is a fact Sky had divulged to Rain against his better judgment, only because Rain had demanded a minute-by-minute breakdown of the car ride, almost like he’d expected the journey to take a more…interesting…turn. Rain’s mind was too fogged up with the nauseating magic of love to allow for a single mundane thought, and he’d been disappointed when Sky had told him just how it had gone. “Why not, Sky?”

“Because.” Sky drains the last of his coffee. “I’m not interested.”

***

That night, insomnia shows up to give the overworked nightmares a break. Sky stares morosely up at his ceiling, pleads with his mind to shut off so he can feel human tomorrow when he has an early morning lecture – it would be unacceptable to look more sleep-deprived than his students.

But sleep doesn’t come.

Instead, he thinks.

Of being sixteen, nearly seventeen and giving someone his number because it had seemed like a good idea at the time, because the possibility of being wanted, especially by someone as handsome and smooth-talking as the twenty-one year old entrepreneur that Gun had introduced himself as, had seemed like an achievement, and Sky had wanted so badly to win. That the entrepreneurial spirit had been a cover for his penchant for drinking too much and too often had sucker punched him later down the line when Gun had finally taken him to an “investor meeting” where Sky had been paraded around as Gun’s little boy, praised for his looks and his spirit, which Gun had enjoyed, at first. Sky had been showered with gifts and compliments and kisses as Gun thanked him for every successful deal, and Sky had believed it, that he was somehow the reason behind Gun’s success, the key to the great things that Gun was sure to achieve.

That vision had eventually dissipated.

There was no innovative start up. Gun and his drunk buddies were just that — drunk and high and on an extra special day, brainstorming ideas that they would like to execute and probably would have if the system wasn’t already rigged in favour of the entitled. This had been Gun’s excuse — it was not that he wasn’t a genius, he was just an unrecognised one, sidelined by those richer and better connected than him. Gun had tried to solve this by networking — pandering to rich, drunk men and trying to find a way onto their payrolls, and if it took parading his shy high-schooler boyfriend to achieve that, then so be it.

It had worked and they’d been invited to more events, events that Gun had insisted Sky had to meet him at, even if it meant missing events at school, or dropping the extra classes he’d qualified for. Hell, Gun would even pick out outfits for them, because Sky couldn’t go anywhere looking like that, like the child that he was. No, he was supposed to look youthful, but never close to his age. For every successful evening, Sky had received presents and adoration. When things didn’t go well — when an investor saw through the eyeliner and the crop tops and asked Gun why he was dating a child, or when someone asked Sky a personal question and he did more than just smile and nod — well, then there would be no gifts or pats on the head.

He can smell the singed skin even now, the cigarette embers glow bright in his imagination.

Eleven years ago, Sky had given a smooth-talking man his number and it had ended with him running for his life, away from a man who wouldn’t stop chasing him, wouldn’t admit that he’d been wrong, didn’t think it was all that bad to resort to violence to ‘correct’ Sky’s behaviour.

But Sky was away from that now. He had made something of his life. He had friends – a friend — he was thriving. He had gotten away. He had won.

Then why does it feel like he’s losing again?

Cursing to himself, he reaches for the jacket on the other side of the bed.

“I won.” He whispers into the familiar fabric, holding onto it like it’s his lifeboat against the tempest that ravages the tranquility of his mind.

***

“What was it this time?” The man claims the barstool next to Prapai and motions for the bartender to give him whatever his best friend’s having.

Prapai doesn’t answer right away, he’s too preoccupied with glowering at the bottled spirits on the shelf in front of him. This isn’t their usual haunt, but Phayu spots a few familiar faces in the dive bar, some of the small fish from the biking circuit who visit the garage for repairs and touch-ups. It’s not even fondness that draws them to the place, which is nothing more than a seedy artefact from their rogue college days. Convenience, the assurance of anonymity are what bring them there; none of their friends would venture to this hole in the wall, it’s not glitzy enough, the scotch is not aged enough, the staff not attentive enough.

Prapai doesn’t seem to mind. He swills his drink around in its tumblr and sips it like it’s a sixty-year-old single malt.

“Poor thing.” He growls through gritted teeth.

Oh. One of those dates. Phayu’s been around Pai long enough to know he doesn’t appreciate being talked to in that tone – pitying, condescending. It’s what’s kept him from going out and meeting people in the first place, and were it not for Prapai’s mother’s penchant for setting him up on dates he can’t get out of, Phayu suspects Prapai would never step out, never put himself out there. The people Prapai does meet seem perfectly pleasant, happy to hear about his professional successes and his interests, and his family. Until the conversation veers from his parents and siblings and things become decidedly more awkward.

“That’s a stupid thing to say.” Phayu clinks his glass against Prapai’s and takes a sip from his glass. “As if they know anything about Ben.”

Prapai finally makes eye contact with him, a strange coolness in his expression that takes Phayu a second to identify as suppressed fury. “She meant me. I’m the poor thing—” he spits out the phrase like it’s something rotten. “ — ‘for giving up my life—’ — which means what, exactly?” He downs the contents of his glass.

“Let me guess.” Phayu speaks after he’s allowed his friend to stew in a moment’s silence. “You called it off and walked out on her mid-dinner, and escaped to this lovely joint to drown your sorrows.”

That elicits a ghost of a smile from Prapai. “Almost. I didn’t even finish reading the menu.”

Phayu claps his friend on his back. “Well, at least you didn’t have to pay for dinner. You can buy me a drink instead. Maybe even some fries." He beckons the bartender over.

Prapai considers his friend through narrowed eyes. “So you didn’t just speed across the city because you were worried about me?”

“Me? Never.” Phayu scoffs. “Do you have to be home early?”

Pai shakes his head. “Mae’s home. They’re going to bake cookies.”

“Good.” Phayu signals to the bartender as he pushes Prapai’s glass forward.” He’ll have another.”

“Phayu.” They’re both nursing their drinks, having decided that they’re both beyond their ‘drown your feelings in alcohol’ phase, and perfectly content to let said feelings stew at the bottom of a singular glass tumbler.

“Hmm?” Phayu’s glass joins Pai’s as he turns to his friend.

“What can you tell me about Sky?”

The urge to tease him is unbearable. Which Sky? Who, Rain’s friend, Sky? The one you stared at all evening two weeks ago? That Sky? It’s only because Prapai currently looks like a droopy Saint Bernard, that Phayu restrains himself.

“Not much. He’s Rain’s friend from university, an architect - a hell of a good one - from somewhere up north.”

“So he’s not local?”

“I…think he’s been here awhile. Maybe since university? Why?” These are not the questions of someone showing a nominal interest in a friend of a friend.

“I just – I can’t stop thinking I know him from somewhere.” Pai raps the counter in front of them with his wrist, accidentally summoning the bartender. Phayu shakes his head at her and she flits away to the other end, where the more enthusiastic clientele is.

“Maybe he just looks like someone you know?” To Phayu, this is a plausible theory. Prapai meets hundreds of people a month in his job as a lawyer. Maybe Sky reminds him of a client, or a court clerk, or a colleague. The suggestion only makes Prapai scoff.

“Please, have you seen him? He doesn’t look like anyone else.”

Now, isn’t that interesting? All these years, Prapai hasn’t shown the slightest interest in people, not even in the futile dates that his mother sets him up on, hopeful that they will lead to a relationship, to her son having someone who expands his world beyond his work and his family. Yet here he is, thinking about Rain’s friend, in a clear deviation from his priorities which usually revolve around his work and his family. Phayu hasn’t seen Pai like this in years, not since…although, that was a completely different situation…

“Pai.” Phayu wonders how best to word this next part and decides that he doesn’t need to be tactful. “Are you sure this isn’t just because he’s been on your mind and you feel like you know him because you’ve been thinking of him?”

The glare that meets this sentence is majestic, and completely lost on Phayu who’s seen every one of his friend’s faces.

“You think I’m hallucinating knowing him from somewhere because I’m … what? Besotted with him?”

In so many words, yes. Phayu doesn’t say it though. Prapai is not above throwing his drink in Phayu’s face, especially if Phayu’s right.

“Aren’t you?” He’s known Prapai long enough and already knows the answer to that one, but it’s still fun, riling up his friend even if he does feel sorry for him, for having been snubbed by Sky. He should feel a little upset with Sky, to be fair, but Rain’s hinted at the possibility that Sky’s indifference towards his friend stems from something in his past, something he never talks about, not even to Rain. Or maybe Sky just really does not like Prapai, which is plausible. Phayu’s practically grown up with Prapai and that has lent him a special immunity to the man, but he’s well aware that for every person that thinks Prapai is charismatic, there is a person who rebrands the charm as obnoxiousness, and believes that the confidence in his abilities is a facade, when in reality, it is completely justified. Prapai is the kindest person he knows, but maybe he’s just not Sky’s cup of tea. Which is a pity, since it looks like Sky is very much Pai’s.

“Phayu, I promise you, I actually think I know him from somewhere. C’mon, do you really think I’d be hitting on him with something out of a bad movie?”

Phayu doesn’t say yes, but he doesn’t say no either. He picks at a different thread instead.

“So you’re saying you’re not interested in him?”

“I’m saying.” Pai exhales as he rubs his temples, whether to fend off a literal headache from working too much, or a metaphorical one from the unexpected interrogation, is anyone’s guess. Probably both. “I have better ways of winning people over.”

“Yeah? Like invading their space until they let you drop you home? How did that go for you?”

“Oh, sod off.” Pai’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he jumps to his feet. “Gotta go.” He propels on before Phayu can give him a sermon. “And yes, I am going to take a cab.”

“All good?” Phayu calls for the bill, intent on following him home if need be, but Prapai waves him off. “Monster under the bed. Nothing I can’t handle.”

This much is true, Prapai hasn’t yet met a monster he couldn’t slay.

“Pai!” Phayu calls after him as he decides to compromise between protecting Sky and helping his friend. “You know that cafe opposite the arts faculty? You should pay it a visit someday, between noon and two.”

Pai looks at him like he’s worried Phayu might have hit the cheap rum too hard, but then comprehension dawns and he shoots Phayu a grin and a thumbs-up as he disappears in the dark on the other side of the door.

***

Chapter Text

The uni cafe is crowded when Sky slinks in during a break between classes. Coffee and kaya toast, and an hour to go through his personal project,a renovation he intends to complete for his father on his next mid-term break, which will be here soon, because as it turns out, University Standard Time is a real thing still, and the last three months have felt like four days.

Sky looks around for a seat and finds none, every available chair has been taken over by college students, all busy wrapping up their semester-end projects and trying to squeeze in an extra few minutes’ of work over lunch.

“Ajarn Sky!” A voice cuts through the crowd, causing several heads to turn in his direction before riveting back to the source.

Disbelief courses through him as he takes in the navy suit and the red tie, the perfectly brushed back hair, the rectangular reading glasses perched on his nose.

No way.

“There’s a free seat here.” The Starer motions at the vacant chair in front of him.

They’re in public, too many people are looking at them now. Why, Sky can’t tell. Maybe it’s because once again, Pai is completely out of place in his suit, the women at the table next to him have been staring at every pinstripe on the fabric like cryptologists staring at a cipher.

He looks good. Diligent, with those glasses on his nose and that tablet on the table in front of him. Deception at its finest.

Wearily, Sky strides over to him, refusing to let him get away with any of this under the pretense of a coincidence.

“What are you doing here?” He refuses to sit, preferring to tower over the taller man as he demands answers.

“Work.” Pai smiles at him as he casts a hand over his workstation. “I thought I would take my work to lunch today.”

“And so you just happened to drive to my university?” It would be preposterous to accuse Pai of doing this on purpose, so Sky makes a heavy implication instead.

“I walked, actually.” Prapai takes off the glasses. Somewhere behind them Sky hears a muffled squeak. Right, they’re in public. Grudgingly Sky takes the seat opposite Prapai, but only so he can lean in and hiss at him instead of interrogating him at full volume.

There’s that aggravatingly bright smile again. “My office is right here — the new building with the orange roof?”

“The one with those ugly plants in the driveway?” His barb backfires as Pai agrees readily with him.

“What can I say, my brother has terrible taste. They are drought resistant, though.”

Sky knows this, he’s admired the wooded approach to the new office block every time he’s walked past it, and he actually loves the gnarly tangle of foliage that lines the path to the entrance, but Pai doesn’t need to know that.

“You work close by, why are you here?”

“Your department’s down the road, why are you here?”

Serves him right, honestly, for trying to argue with a professional arguer.

“I have work to finish.” He whips out his phone and pulls up the cafe’s app to place his order.

“I do too.” Pai agrees earnestly with him. “Let me buy you coffee.”

“I’m going to leave if you talk to me, or try and pay for me.” Sky cautions him, and is met with no answer. He looks up suspiciously and is met with Pai smiling silently at him.

Seriously?

Pai gives him a thumbs-up before propping the glasses back on his nose,no doubt making some random stranger’s dreams come true.

Whatever. Sky’s here for work, food and coffee, and there is plenty of that here to drown out the presence of the man opposite him.

They work in silence for the rest of the hour, to Pai’s credit, he does actually look like he’s paying close attention to his tablet and Sky almost believes that this, running into him like this is a coincidence.

Almost. What gives it away is the fact that Sky doesn’t believe in coincidences to begin with.

“Was it Rain?” He finally asks as he wraps up the last article on his screen.

“Phayu actually.” Prapai hums along to the scratch of a pen on paper and Sky steals a look at him, at the crease that forms between his eyebrows as he highlights something, at the way he mouths words that he’s reading.

Pai’s lashes, Sky discovers, are longer than they should be…

Pull it together.

Phayu. The name of the traitor in this instance resonates in his mind. The boyfriends have been talking, and Sky is mildly annoyed at this shameless attempt to join forces against him. He thought P’Phayu liked him.

He is more annoyed at himself, because he should be shutting this down and walking away. But here he is. Eating kaya toast and trying not to stare at Pai’s eyes.

This is the Starer. The man who knows a grand total of one pick up line, who doesn’t look ridiculous wearing a suit in the sweltering heat. More than not-ridiculous —

Sky is on his feet faster than he can exhale. “I’m leaving.”

“See you tomorrow.” Pai waves at him, his attention still on his work.

No you won’t. Sky decides, but doesn’t say.

***

“P’Pai. Why is my intern going around telling everyone that you’ve taken to working out of the uni cafe?” The slender woman in the indigo pantsuit accosts him at the dining table just as he’s coaxing the last of the yam khai dao into the fidgety child who is trying his best to chew faster than he should because his Aa Plerng promised him ice-cream after lunch.

Ben knows a good deal when he sees it.

“Because I have been working out of the uni cafe.” For weeks now, and with about a eighty percent success rate of managing to find Sky there, and maybe it’s just his imagination but it looks like it’s working and Sky is — well,not happy to have him there, but not particularly upset at the prospect either. Sometimes he even lets Prapai borrow his stationery, and that is progress.

“And who’s the stranger with you? P’Joy’s been telling everyone you have a new assistant.”

“N’Phan.” Prapai keeps his tone deceptively neutral even as he admonishes his sister. “Do I look like I’d ever cross P’Tan?” His assistant is fierce, the strongest soldier in the office, a literal superhero who can transition effortlessly into a supervillain if you cross her, and Prapai would like to keep her on his side, thank you very much. They need to increase P’Joy’s workload immediately, although Prapai doubts it would affect her ability to spin tales out of thin air.

“Pa!” The boy swipes at the chopsticks in Prapai’s hands, adamant about finishing his egg salad, and Prapai turns his attention to the more important task, hoping Phan will take the hint and end her inquiries. And she does, after one last question.

“So, who’s the guy?” Really, his sister should know better than to adopt a direct line of questioning with him.

“No comment.” His smile grows brighter, more self-congratulatory as he watches her struggle to find an insult that will hit the spot without being immediately picked up by Ben.

“I’ll get you.” She huffs at him through narrowed eyes before sashaying out towards her room.

The chopsticks slip out of Pai’s hands and into Ben’s, who fashions a skewer out of one to finish the last of the egg in his bowl.

“Ice cream.” His son hops off his chair and waits expectantly by the bench in the foyer.

“Can Pa come with you and Aa Plerng?” Ben’s face scrunches up as he gives it some thought. “Okay, but I want shark shoes.” He points at the high tops that take forever to get into because of the million velcro straps on them, but remain Ben’s favourite because of the smiley sharks painted onto the toe cap.

What can he say, they’re a family of negotiators.

***

Three weeks on and he’s still here. Almost every lunch hour, at the same table. Sky’s almost certain that Pai has endeared himself to the staff who save him a seat and now bring him drinks before he can even order them.

The real question, the one that Sky doesn’t ask because he’s a coward, is why he’s still there, if avoiding Pai is so high on his list. He’s not there for Pai, he’s there for his cortados and his kaya toast, and for the white noise of cafe chatter that helps him focus on his work. That the white noise has become less soothing and more of an onslaught of speculation that buffets him off-course, so that it takes him twice as long to read through his papers, is a different matter.

I bet I could get his number

Do you think he’ll buy us a drink if we ask?

… P’Pot told me he might be a…sugar daddy…? They hang out at campuses like this?

You think the glasses are real? Or is he just trying to look mysterious?

“Don’t listen to them.” Pai hums and Sky nearly jumps out of his seat because he’s become accustomed to working in silence, because aggravatingly, Pai has kept his word and kept his mouth shut all these weeks.

Prapai’s very accommodating in that way, happy to comply with Sky’s wishes, no questions asked. He honours the silence, doesn’t try to pay for Sky’s coffee, doesn’t once ask him if they’ve met before.

He does, however, try to share his food, piling Sky’s plate with slices of whatever he’s ordered for himself. A croissant one day, a sandwich the next. Sky retaliates in kind by forcing Pai to sample his kaya toast and his oatmeal cookie, because he doesn’t want to owe Pai, not even half a sandwich, and throwing it away would just be a waste of resources, which Sky can’t have.

“And they’re real.” Pai taps at his glasses. “In case you were wondering.”

“You’re speaking, and I wasn’t.” Sky glares daggers at the stupid man with his stupid glasses and his stupid maroon shirt, but no jacket, because he’s finally had to give up on the full suit in the humid weather. So he’s not that vain.

Which is a plus…

No. He’s not doing the List.

“Technically, I’m singing. You didn’t say ‘no singing’.” Sky suppresses the urge to kick him under the table. He’d probably find a way to spin that into an expression of endearment. “So, not even a little?” How does his voice do that? Flow so effortlessly in that low musical hum? “Not even about anything else?”

“I do have one question.”

He’s bright-eyed and attentive when he leans in, eager to finally have an answer for Sky. Sky almost hates to watch it all come crashing down, but maybe this will finally serve its purpose, send Pai on his way, stop the List before Sky can add more to it.

“Why do you keep stealing my highlighters? Not enough money in your stationery budget?”

“Oh.” If Pai’s thrown off by it, he hides it well. “No, it’s not that. I just like your highlighters, architects seem to have the best stash.”

“They’re half price at the university shop.”

“Okay.” Sky watches open-mouthed as Prapai actually scribbles that nugget of information onto his yellow executive pad. “When’s your birthday?”

“What?” It’s a hard left turn into unexpected territory.

“Your birthday.” Prapai repeats, unhelpfully. “You asked a question…”

“...that doesn’t mean you get to ask one.”

“That’s not fair!” Prapai protests, loudly enough to attract the attention of the table next to theirs.

“Yeah, well.” Sky shrugs as he forces himself to return to his work. “Life isn’t fair.”

“True, but there’s always a loophole to even things out.” Those are ominous words coming from the lawyer and Sky glances at the executive pad when he hears the scratching of the pen again.

“P’Pai.” Sky glowers at him, careful to keep his voice low. “Do not ask Rain.”

“Fine.” Prapai huffs as he scratches the words off the paper. “You’ll just tell me yourself one day.”

“No I won’t.”

“Agree to disagree.” Honestly, Sky could throw his blue highlighter - his least favourite one- at his least favourite man.

Pai’s phone rings before Sky can issue the threat. He answers the call, his cordial, 'work’ tone steadily shifting into a more disquieted one as the call progresses.

“What do you mean he was at the school—? Wait with him, I’m on my way.” He’s on his feet and gathering his things, stuffing them haphazardly into his bag. “I — sorry, I’ve got to go.” That part is directed at Sky as Prapai slides the highlighter he’s been using back his way.

And then he’s gone, before Sky can ask him what’s wrong.

***

“Ben’s fine.” The copper-haired annoyance that Prapai refers to as his brother intercepts him at the main door. “He couldn’t show ID, so they didn’t let him in.” A hand grabs his arm, holding him hostage until his brother’s words register. “He’s okay.”

“Did he see Ben?”

Plerng shakes his head. “The school wouldn’t let him past the main gate when he couldn’t prove who he was.”

A million thoughts race through Prapai’s head – CCTV footage, police reports, house calls and restraining orders, but they’re all replaced by a singular, more pressing matter.

“He’s in the living room looking at his book.” Plerng reads his mind. “He’s had a regular day at school, phi.”

Ben’s on his stomach on the living room carpet, swinging his legs in the air as he looks through his favourite picture book. He looks up when he hears footsteps, his face breaking out into a smile when he recognises his father.

“Pa!” Ben is on his feet and clinging to Prapai’s leg, the book held over his head as he attempts to show his father his favourite book. He can’t read the words yet, but is happy to look at the pictures when there is no one around to read to him. Prapai makes it easier for him by lifting Ben up and in his arms.

“Look, Pa, a boat!”

And he does. For the next ten minutes, Prapai lets Ben reintroduce him to Curious George.

It is only later that night, after Ben is safely tucked away in bed and Prapai has cross-checked every lock and latch in the room, that he gets down to dissecting the events of the day. His siblings are waiting for him by the kitchen counter, already deep in conversation, a glass of wine in their hands. Prapai refuses a glass of his own and pulls up a seat opposite them.

“Here.” Phan slides her phone towards him. “Footage from the CCTV. I looked at it already and it’s clearly Stop.” Prapai hits play, his eyes on the man in the baseball cap. He doesn’t even bother to hide his face from the camera as he reasons with the guards at the gate. There is no audio, but it’s obvious that the man is frustrated at not being allowed entry.

“Ow!” Over Prapai’s shoulder, Plerng flinches as the man takes a swing at the guards in a last ditch attempt to get past. It doesn’t work and the guard retaliates by shoving him into the road. A second guard joins the fray, which is ultimately what drives the man away.

“They say he drove off in a black sedan with a broken taillight.” That narrows it down, but not enough. Not enough for Prapai to find out where he ran to. Not enough for them to have a word.

“Aren’t you glad you have better siblings?” Phan extracts the phone from his hands and sets it in the centre of the counter so they can all get a better look at the pixelated features of Ben’s uncle, although that title is loosely held together by an unfortunate biological link alone, one that's rusting away with every passing day.

“I guess there’s a reason I’m the favourite uncle.” Plerng scowls at his competition. “If you find him, phi, I want a go.”

“I’ll pay for your manicure.” Phan nudges her brother. “Make sure you tear him to shreds.”

“If we’re shredding, I’ll start with that hideous cap.”

“No.” Prapai uses his best big brother voice, the voice he’s used on his siblings ever since they were children, mostly to negotiate their way out of squabbles, hair pulling battles, and rapidly escalating pillow fights. “You’re not to go near him. Promise me, Plerng. You too, Phan.” It worked for him then, and it works for him now. Prapai waits until his siblings nod in agreement, sullen and unsatisfied by the lack of immediate action. He understands the instinct to go after the man, to scare him off, it’s the same instinct that he’s grappling with, but it would do no good. They can’t stoop to Stop’s level of impulsiveness, it would only aggravate the situation, Stop would see any reaction as an invitation to engage, and the last thing Pai wants is to give the man any more incentives to hover around Ben.

“I wonder how he found out about the preschool. He can’t have paid for an investigator.”

Prapai agrees with Phan, because if Stop had the money to hire an investigator to do his bidding, he wouldn’t be looking for Ben in the first place.

He calls Phayu next. The call connects on the second ring. “What’s happened?” Phayu’s voice is gravelly on the other end; a glance at his watch tells Pai that it is nearing one in the morning – he’s lost track of time. He’ll keep this short and to the point.

“Stop dropped by Ben’s preschool.”

Phayu swears on the other end, there is the sound of shuffling and Pai can visualise Phayu walking out of his bedroom, presumably so as not to disturb Rain.

“What do you need?”

“Nothing yet, but if he shows up at your garage —”

“Then I’ll call you.” Phayu completes the sentence for him. “I’ll need a lawyer anyway, if I end up crossing paths with him.”

Prapai hopes it never comes to that, for Stop's sake.

***

Sky walks into the uni cafe on the last day of term to find their table overrun with a group of freshmen. For the first time in weeks, Pai isn’t there. Sky glances at his watch, just in case he’s mistaken about the time, and has shown up too early or too soon. The watch face reads a half past twelve, he’s right on time.

And Pai’s not here.

It should be a relief, knowing that he’s finally shaken off the man, that Pai’s not encroaching a table for four , grinning and poised to attack his stationery and hum questions at him when he isn’t prepared for them. Instead, Sky’s eyes scan the crowd for an obnoxiously expensive suit, his ears seek out whispered comments about sexy older men, but for once, there is nothing more than the white noise of a busy cafe. It takes a minute for him to identify the feeling that’s uncoiling in the pit of his stomach.

Disappointment.

Because as it turns out, Sky was looking forward to seeing him again at their —the— table. He attempts to shake it off, to allow annoyance— at himself mostly— to fill in this unexpected gap in his day. This is good, he can get work done, he can have peace, he can eat exactly what he likes, without having to deal with unwelcome slivers of pastry.

He won't have to listen to discussions on the merits of having a sugar daddy.

He won't have to threaten to kick at expensive shoes, one kick for every time Pai tries to interrogate him about his birthday.

The phone call. Pai had been worried, quick to leave because it had sounded like something had been wrong. He’d sounded panicked

Has something happened?

Rein it in, Sky.

How does it matter? It’s none of his business.

Rain would have told him. They've been texting all day, and if something had happened to his P'Phayu's best friend, Rain would have let him know. Except that Sky's told Rain that he doesn't want to hear about Pai, and Rain doesn't know that Sky’s been spending his lunch hours with Pai for the last three weeks…

Shit.

Rain's going to kill him when he does find out and no amount of convincing him that Sky doesn't actually want to spend his lunch with Pai, that Pai's just in his space, just another paying customer at his favourite cafe, is going to diffuse his best friend's rage.

Still…

Sky pulls up his chats with Rain, his fingers hovering over the textbox as he struggles to find the correct combination of words that would convey to Rain that he’s just curious, and not worried at all.

Maybe he could just ask after P’Phayu and find a way to turn the conversation towards P’Pai…

My day's been really slow. How's yours going? Anything new to report?

God, he couldn't sound more disingenuous if he tried. Rain's going to think he's being held hostage.

If he's worried enough, he might even call P'Phayu, who might mention Pai in passing... and if there's anyone that can be trusted to include random pieces of trivia in the most urgent of messages, it's Rain...

Stall for time, P'Phayu and the cops are on their way btw did u hear about P'Pai...

Mad. He's mad. He's gotten his way, and he's upset about it.

Sky shoves the phone back into his pocket with an impatient shake of his head. This won't do, letting all these thoughts chisel away at his peace of mind. He’s reading too much into things, Pai has no obligations towards him, and his phone conversations are none of Sky’s business.

It’s fine. He tells himself, even as everything else hints at it being the exact opposite.

***

Chapter Text

Laden with a backpack on his arm and a squealing boy on his back, Prapai stomps into the living room, pausing every few steps to whinny dramatically for his son’s benefit.

“What’s that I hear? Benny and his…horse?” A woman peeks out of the kitchen, which smells faintly of cinnamon and citrus, an aroma that can only be from his mother’s famous lemon cake.

“Your Pa’s arriving from Malaysia this evening , I thought we deserved a sweet treat to celebrate the end of his dealings with that awful oil company lawyer.” She pats her hands on her apron and joins them in the living room. “What’s happening here?”

“Pa’s a seahorse.” Ben’s heels dig into Pai’s sides, eliciting another whinny.

“Is that so?” His grandmother reaches over to ruffle the boy’s hair before reaching across to take the backpack from Prapai. “Would you and your seahorse like to join Yaa for lunch?”

“Yes please!” Ben taps his seahorse on the arm, who crouches obligingly so that Ben can hop off and run into the kitchen where they usually eat when it’s just them.

“Wash your hands!” Prapai calls after the blur as it disappears down the hallway.

“You were up all night.” It is a statement more than a question — his mother’s always been very discerning when it comes to her three children. Prapai has been up all night, unable to find peace in the midst of it all, restless in the moments that he hasn’t had Ben in his sight. He’d almost considered keeping his son home that day until better sense had prevailed and he’d settled for driving Ben to and from preschool. Then the insanity had returned and Pai had ended up in the parking lot opposite the premises, pretending to work on his laptop as he’d spent the next six hours looking out for Stop, but to Pai’s surprise, the coward had been smart enough to stay away.

It had sunk in much later, once Ben was safe in his car seat and inspecting a rock he’d painted in class, that he’d missed lunch. The realisation had left him feeling like someone had twisted his stomach into a gordian knot of anxiety, regret and failure, like he'd missed a crucial opportunity and undone something momentous.

There’s something so precarious about the bond he’s trying to forge with Sky, Prapai worries that a tug too far in the wrong direction might cause the tenuous thread that connects them to fray, and Pai can’t have that. It’s so fragile that Prapai worries it might have snapped off already, on account of one missed coffee not-date.

Regardless of whether anyone believes him or not, Prapai’s interest in Sky really had stemmed from the feeling that he’d met him before, and maybe that is what prompted him to ask for the man’s number at the end of that night. Everything else after that, the pull he feels towards Sky that keeps him going back to the cafe to watch Sky hiss and glare and steal glances at him when he thinks Pai’s attention is elsewhere…all of that stems from how Prapai feels about Sky without the added distraction of deja-vu.

He’s surprised at himself, at how easily he’s fallen into these dangerous waters. No, he corrects himself. It hasn’t been easy.

For four years, Prapai has wanted nothing for himself, and has been perfectly content with the life he has. He’s developed an indifference to the bad dates and the prying questions and implications that he’s living a life that’s been interrupted and thrown off course. None of these whispered opinions matter to him, because he has Ben, and the love and support of his family who would go to war for them if it came to that. There’s never been any space for loneliness and yearning in the world that he inhabits. Now, in the aftermath of a chance encounter with a certain sharp-tongued professor, Prapai wants.

He’s being greedy, he’s aware, trying to have it all when he already has so much.

Well, can’t he? Just this once?

Ben needs him right now, to banish monsters from his room and help him distinguish his left foot from his right, to read him bedtime stories and answer all the questions that occur to him on the commute to and from school. Pai’s an expert at this point, at moving the pieces of his life around to accommodate his son’s needs — his meetings, his work trips, his social commitments. He’s never hesitated to walk out of board rooms or slink away from the galas that he’d been obligated to attend, because Ben has always come first. It is an altogether different matter that even at four years old, his son is as independent as the rest of his family, busy with school and always happy to spend time with his grandparents and his uncle and aunt; some days, he’s too focused on his books and his crayons to even look at his father.

But right now, with Stop sniffing around, Ben — no, it’s not that Ben might need him more, it’s that Pai needs to keep Ben close, and if that comes at the price of another life reshuffle, then so be it.

Except this time, it feels like it might cost him more.

***

“Prapai…” His mother's looking at him, a sympathetic, knowing smile on her face. She holds her arms open and waits for Prapai to give in. “Come here.”

It only takes a second. Prapai steps into the hug; he's a head taller than his mother, but she still manages to make him feel sheltered and protected. “You're making lists. I can hear them.” She pats him on the back. “Come on, lunch.”

Prapai follows his mother into the kitchen where lunch has been laid out on the kitchen island.

“You remember the flat we lived in when you were Ben’s age?” She motions for Pai to hold out the plates so she can serve them. Prapai remembers the tiny second floor flat that had served as his first home, with its tiny kitchen and two bedrooms, one of which his father had fashioned into a home office. Prapai remembers the secondhand desk littered with business cards and rejection letters that his father had folded into paper boats and planes to entertain his wide-eyed baby son. His mother had bought fabric in bulk and fashioned curtains out of the floral printed cotton to conceal the water damage, and amassed an army of potted marigolds to bring light into the many windowless corners.

“You remember that pressure cooker you were so scared of?”

Prapai chuckles because he’s heard enough stories about the screeching monstrosity that had sent him crawling, and when he was able to, toddling as far away from the kitchen as possible. The thing had been a creature of nightmares, cacophonous and aggressive in a home that even on the bleakest days only knew laughter and sunshine.

“I had it on one day, you couldn’t have been more than a year old because Plerng wasn’t even a thought at this point.” Plerng had arrived kicking and screaming a few months after Prapai’s second birthday, laden with a toy car for him, a bribe for Prapai’s cooperation and affection. It had been unnecessary. Pai had loved his little brother at first glance, and had waited impatiently every day for Plerng to ‘grow up’, to match Pai in size so they could go on adventures together. He’d been greatly disappointed when he’d discovered that that’s not how human development worked.

“I was trying to make a new recipe to celebrate your Pa’s first big project. I stepped out onto the balcony for just a moment to pick some basil, and when I returned, you were on your tiptoe, barely upright, but trying your best to reach over the counter and take the pressure cooker off the flame. You almost had a grip on the plastic handle, I think you were plotting to take it down with a jump.

“I was so scared that you would manage it that I screamed and pulled you away from the counter. Then the pressure went off.” She heaps an extra serving of rice onto his plate and adds more vegetables to Ben’s. “You were inconsolable. We were all screaming, you, me, the pressure cooker, and it took forever to calm you down. You were upset at me because I’d never yelled at you before, and you cried and cried and cried until it tired you out enough to knock you out.

“For weeks after that I felt so guilty, I was so scared to let you out of my sight. Your Pa would wake up in the middle of the night and find me leaning over you in your cot, watching you sleep. I was convinced that I had slipped up, and the only solution was to watch your every move so you’d never be hurt, and if that meant taking away your toys, or ripping off the eyes on your teddy bear because I was worried if I didn’t then you would and, well, I thought you’d make a meal out of them.

“But Pai — never once did he get angry at me. Not at my carelessness with you, not at my obsession with keeping an eye on you. Instead, he would send me back to bed and stay up to watch you instead. Everytime I wondered if I was a bad parent, he gave me hundreds of reasons why I was not – it was like being put on trial and you know how solid your Pa’s arguments are. He used his first paycheck from that project to buy me a baby monitor, even though you slept in the same room as us, and —” His mother’s eyes are sparkling now as she recounts the memory. “ — he bought me a new pressure cooker, one that didn’t have a long handle that a toddler might want to grab.” She tilts her head in the direction of the stove, to the beat-up steel cooker that sits atop the stove. “You like this one, don’t you?”

Prapai can only nod, the lump in his throat makes it difficult for him to speak.

“I understand why you have to keep an eye on him, but I want you to remember: Ben’s fine. He’s very loved. He’s safe. He’s got all of us, so don’t do him a disservice by neglecting yourself — I’m not saying that’s what you’re doing now, but if you’re thinking about it—” She knows him too well. “ — Don’t. The best way to ensure Ben’s happiness is by working on your own. Okay? ”

He doesn’t have much to say to that, gratitude is a tricky emotion to verbalise, harder now that he can hear Ben’s footsteps down the corridor. So he makes do with nodding at his mother and promising himself that he’ll give her way a try.

Then, just because it feels like too profound a realisation for the lunch table, Prapai looks up at her again.

“This isn’t about sending me on another date, is it?”

His mother looks appalled at the implication. “Prapai!” She brandishes the salad tongs at him just as Ben races in. The tongs are returned to the salad bowl on the counter.

“It’s not.” She answers as she slides Ben’s plate at him. “Besides, if the office rumour mill is to be believed…” Her lip curls as she looks her son in the eye. “It sounds like you don’t need my help.”

Right, about that.

***

Sky blinks once.

Twice.

Three times.

It has to be the setting sun playing tricks on him because there is no way Pai is here, outside his faculty building, at the foot of the stairs, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

Heatstroke is the only plausible explanation: he’s hallucinating a dressed-down version of Pai, with an accurate rendition of his stupid grin lighting up his stupid face, although it is much more restrained in its current iteration.

“Hi.” The hallucination has the audacity to wave at Sky. A pair of first years bow to him as they walk past. Sky rethinks the heatstroke hypothesis.

How long has he been waiting out here, and what for?

“You’re in a no parking zone.” Are the first words Sky’s brain can string together.

“Am I?” If he’s being truthful, Sky has no idea, he’s never had to worry about parking zones. “Then we should move. Do you want to get a coffee?”

“It’s late.” Sky takes a tentative step, pleasantly surprised at the fact that Pai doesn’t rush to block his way, doesn’t try to corner him or yell in his face. Sky takes another step, to the same effect. At this rate, he could just walk away and leave Pai to figure out whether or not there’s a tow truck in his future.

So why doesn't he?

Say no and walk away, Sky.

Tell him to stop showing off his stupid car and his stupid face in front of your place of work.

Instead, Sky just stands there and gives Pai the opportunity to keep talking.

“How about a drink, or we could get dinner if you feel like it?”

Why would I want to get dinner?

“Because it's dinner time.” Prapai answers for him, that aggravatingly expectant smile still on his face. Did he say that out loud?

And he is hungry, especially since he skipped lunch at the cafe. Dinner sounds good.

But dinner with Pai…

That sounds like it might mean something, something beyond running into him in a cafe and having no choice but to share a table with him. That was a coincidence, repeated thirty times over.

This would be more intentional and Sky can't have that.

“I'm meeting Rain.”

It's not a lie if Sky's going to do it, even though Rain probably has some very important plans with P'Phayu. Well, tough. He was Sky's friend first.

“Oh.” The smile slips off his face momentarily before it’s back again as Pai shrugs. “My loss, but I guess that’s life.”

His loss. Sky wants to scoff. As if Sky’s refusal to entertain him is going to affect his life in any way.

“You’ll get over it.” Sky can’t help but respond in kind to the overly dramatic wording, where a simple “okay” would have sufficed.

“You’re right.” Pai agrees readily, and Sky is immediately suspicious. “I will get over it if you let me drive you to Rain’s.”

Absolutely not. Say no! The voice in his head clamours again, the protest more muffled this time, like it’s been stuffed unceremoniously into a closet in Sky’s mind.

“Come on. It’s Friday evening, the buses will be packed and the cabs will be pricey.” All fair points, but Sky would rather drain his bank account than show up at Rain’s doorstep in Pai’s car.

“I’ll be quiet. Promise. No talking, no singing.” Pai holds up his pinky finger like he expects Sky to raise his own. “And I’m going that way anyway, it’ll be more eco-friendly.”

Once, just bloody once, Sky would like to win an argument. “You know where Rain lives?”

The other man nods earnestly. “Sure. Phayu had me deliver — well, it’s not important.” No, it’s really not, Sky agrees. “Let’s just say I know where he lives.”

Prapai opens his mouth again, presumably to give him another reason, or four hundred why accepting the lift is the best option.

“Fine.” Sky gives in. “Drop me to the bus stop near Rain’s — the bus stop or I walk.” He can’t let Pai win outright.

“Deal.” Pai opens the passenger side door with a flourish. “There’s coffee in the thingy.”

***

Chapter Text

Of course running away is the most reasonable choice.

Especially when Sky can disguise it as going home for the semester break. In light of current developments, it seems like his only choice.

First, there is the car ride, the thirty minute drive from the university to the bus stop that’s a two minute walk from Rain’s. Pai behaves himself, keeps every promise he’s made, and seems perfectly content to play silent chauffeur to Sky.

Which is why Sky finds himself tripping over his own boundaries and stealing glances at the man whenever he can. The cortado is still hot in his hands and Pai sips his own drink at every traffic light, which is also the only time he turns his twinkling eyes on Sky. It should be awkward, strapped into the passenger seat next to a friend of a friend’s boyfriend, riding in silence, drinking his favourite coffee, with no expectations of conversation or small talk.

It should be really awkward.

But this is nice. Nice in the way that it has his heart beating faster than it should, but it’s not the ominous toll that accentuates his nightmares, or the painful thrum that stabs at him when he gets lost in the memories on a sleepless night.

This is different. Different enough that it makes Sky do stupid things.

They’re at another traffic light and Sky turns towards the driver’s seat, preparing himself to be accosted by that warm, twinkly gaze. Instead, Pai turns first to his takeaway cup. He frowns at the weight of it and shakes it for good measure just in case there is liquid still to be found among the dregs, sighing when his method yields no results.

“Long day?” Sky barely registers the question as it escapes his lips.

Pai turns his eyes, now wide and brimming with surprise. “Did I have a long day?” He sounds thrilled at the prospect of making small talk

Well, it’s too late to take it back now, so Sky waits.

Pai leans back in his seat and drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he considers the question. “Yeah.” He finally decides. “I guess I did have a long day. There's…” He waves a hand around vaguely. “...things happening, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Sky believes it. The man has no dearth of confidence; he could argue with an armed militia and get his way, probably negotiate world peace while he was at it.

“How was your day?” Pai redirects the question to Sky.

“Fine.” Sky shrugs, unsure if Pai wants him to go into the finer details of what it’s like to deal with overworked students on a daily basis.

“Does that professor still teach here? The one who looks like he's being haunted?” Pai frowns as he sifts through his mind for a name. “Bald guy. Angry. Likes to throw things at people, says a lot of things about honour and respect.”

“Khun Mak?”

“Yes! Khun Mak!” Pai snaps his fingers at him as the door to that memory is finally unlocked. “He threw a shoe at me once.”

“He — what?” Sky sputters. Not that Khun Mak isn't above that sort of behaviour, the man is a terror, a massive supporter of the ‘old ways’ of doing things, which involve punishing students, demanding to see the parents of any twenty year old he doesn't like, and fashioning projectiles out of footwear. He holds less sway now because the students have gotten smarter, found ways to stand up to him without sacrificing their grade, but the resistance has only made Khun Mak grumpier, more irritable, especially towards the younger professors. As a rule, Sky steers clear of the man.

“It wasn't my fault!” Pai is quick to defend himself. “My brother did a summer programme at the faculty one year. I guess Khun Mak didn't like him very much and asked to see his parents. Plerng decided it would be far more entertaining if he brought his older brother instead. It was. Just not for me.”

“Khun Mak doesn’t just throw shoes at people for no good reason.” Sky can't keep the smirk off his face as Pai blinks at him in disbelief.

“I can't believe you're siding with the walking ventriloquist's puppet!”

“Am I wrong?” Sky counters, because he has a tough time believing Pai would miss a chance to provoke the decaying demon-teacher. That's his whole thing, he lives to provoke.

“Well. I did try to tell him that he couldn't fail Plerng just because he didn't like Plerng’s idea, when Plerng had followed every instruction and met the assessment criteria.”

Failing someone on a difference of opinion? That sounds characteristically like Khun Mak. “And then I wouldn't give him our parents’ number so he could complain to them about both of their sons. I guess he didn't like that.”

“Uh huh.” Sky leaves the smirk where it is, thoroughly enjoying the way it frazzles Pai.

“And here I thought you'd fight for me, Sky.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because…we're friends?” Pai looks at him, wide-eyed and indignant. “We share lunch and everything!”

“Yeah well, you know what they say about assuming things.”

“Tell that to Khun Mak.” Pai grins at him. “Plerng won a prize for that plan when he resubmitted it as a university project.”

“Did he pass the summer programme?” Sky's never heard of Khun Mak backtracking on his assessments of people.

“He did.” Pai sounds less happy about that. “We redid the project and sent it in, all 200 pages—” There is a mischievous glint in his eye as he finishes the story. “ — size 50 font and triple spaced. That was all Plerng's idea, by the way. He's the pettiest one among us. He even thanked Phayu in the acknowledgments, which is probably what stopped Khun Zombie from burning the project.” Pai grins at the memory. “Is Phayu still everyone's favourite student?”

“He is.” Sky agrees. Six years on, Phayu remains the department's favourite prodigy.

Pai sighs in mock-exasperation, like he can't believe the fuss around his friend. “I should stay in his good books then, in case I need his services to get you out of a sticky situation.”

“I can look after myself.” Sky scoffs. There are no sticky situations in architecture, outside of the ones that involve malfunctioning glue sticks and construction paper — just long hours and an overabundance of decimal points, and the odd difficult colleague, all of which Sky can deal with just fine.

“I know.” Prapai doesn’t challenge the assertion. “But there’s nothing wrong with having someone else watch your back. Plus, I’m really gifted at looking out for people. Sometimes, I think it’s my only talent.”

He’s so earnest that Sky forgets that they’re discussing a hypothetical situation, and he isn’t offering Sky his unconditional support.

Pai makes it sound so easy, like it’s a given to have someone on your side, to depend on during the hard times. Like he’s never known what it’s like to be tossed away, to be forced to fight for yourself, with nothing but the voice in your own head egging you on, keeping you from propelling headfirst into the abyss. Good. Sky thinks, relief pulsing through every slow breath. It’s good that Pai can trust in the goodness of others. It’s good that he can trust people enough to lean on them.

“Sky?”

They’ve stopped, feet away from the familiar yellow billboard that marks the bus stop outside Rain’s flat. Sky comes to with a jerk, to find Pai staring at him, concern reflected in those big brown eyes as one hand rests on Sky’s shoulder. Sky flinches away, a reflex that takes over before he can suppress it.

“You okay?” Pai’s hand sits easily in his lap, if he’s offended at Sky’s knee jerk reaction, he does a good job of concealing it.

“I — yeah. Fine.” Sky mumbles as he snaps off the seatbelt and rushes to open the door and get out of there. “Thanks for the lift.”

And then Sky bolts, covers the last few hundred metres to Rain’s place in a sprint, not caring that Pai might be watching through the windshield and wondering what the hell is wrong with him.

***

Which brings him to Problem Number Two.

“Sky?” Rain lets Sky in and shepherds him to the living room before Sky can catch his breath and explain himself. “What’s wrong? You’ve been running. Sit. I’ll bring you some water.”

No water. Sky shakes his head as he pulls Rain down to sit next to him on the couch, fighting the stitch in his side. Wow, he used to be good at this. Maybe he should start running again, just in case. “I’m f–ine. Just, d’youwannahang out t’night?”

“Of course I do.” Rain pats him on the arm. It’s not often that Sky shows up unannounced at his doorstep on a Friday evening, asking to socialise. “We could rewatch Train to Busan –” Rain knows it’s Sky’s comfort film “—after you tell me what’s wrong.”

Sky stops mid-nod to glare at Rain, before he slumps backwards in surrender, which is just as well, because Rain has years of data, stretching right to when they first met as uncoordinated eighteen year-olds trying to make their way through the orientation dance performance, to prove that he’ll probably win this argument.

“Your boyfriend betrayed me.” Sky mumbles through the cushion he’s plastered to his face.

“P’Phayu?” Rain quirks an eyebrow, taken aback by this sudden attack, not directed at him, but at his perfect ‘couldn’t-hurt-a-fly-unless-the-fly-hurt-Rain-then-the-fly’s-dead’ boyfriend. “What did he do?”

“I’m not telling you.” Rain can hear the huff through the cushion.

“Okay, I’ll tell him to—” Rain is interrupted with a cushion to the face as Sky straightens up.

“No, you won’t. You won’t tell him anything, Rain.” Sky snaps at him, the annoyance in his tone is evident, which is something, because Sky never gets annoyed. He’s a big one for scoffing and rolling his eyes and threatening to block Rain when he overloads his messages with selfies, but he is seldom genuinely annoyed. Like now, where he looks two huffs away from having steam billow out his ears.

“Okay. Promise.” Rain relents. “I won’t tell P’Phayu, if you tell me what’s bothering you.”

“Please!” Sky looks disbelievingly at him. “You won’t be able to keep your mouth shut. You’ll look at him with those guilty eyes and he’ll see right through you.”

It’s a good point, Rain contemplates a workaround. He could stop looking at Phayu? But that would make matters worse,Phayu would know right away that Rain was keeping something from him, and then Rain would feel too guilty about the whole thing, and it would be game over.

“Whatever.” Sky sighs as he drops onto the sofa again. “I won’t tell you anything.” He scowls ferociously at the blank TV screen as he claws around the sofa for the remote. “There’s nothing to tell anyway.” He stabs the buttons on the poor remote and refuses to look at anything other than the screen.

“Skyyy.” Rain has to try. Carefully, he steals a cushion away from under Sky and procures another one from the armchair next to him. His shields in place in front of him, Rain charges on.

“It’s about P’Pai, isn’t it?”

For a split second, Sky looks thunderous, offended at the confidence in Rain’s voice. Here come the kicks to shut up, Rain lifts the cushion up to protect his face.

And then, in a move that surprises Rain to the point of speechlessness, the fight drains out of Sky as he buries his face in his hands and shakes his head.

“Can we just watch the damn movie, please?”

It's not a confession, but it's not a dismissal either. It is encouragement for Rain to continue his attack.

“We can.” Rain agrees with a sweet smile as he steals the remote out of Sky’s hands. “If you acknowledge that it’s about P’Pai.” He uses his free hand to anchor himself against the arm of the sofa as Sky kicks at him in an attempt to throw him off, but they’ve been here before, Rain’s had practice.

“C’mon, Sky. You can do it. Just say it.” Rain launches a cushion at Sky, getting him in the chest. “Say that you’re thinking of P’Pai. Ow! Ow!”

“I’m — not!” Sky kicks back, sending Rain half-off the sofa and forcing him to twist around in an effort to keep clinging to his seat.

“Say you want his number!” Rain puffs out as he pulls himself back up and leans his weight on Sky, crushing him into the sofa.

“I don’t.” Sky manages as his lungs are flattened on account of his friend’s elbow poking his diaphragm. “Gerroffme…you!” He gasps as he pokes Rain’s side and regains the upper hand. On the now-ignored TV screen in front of them, a horde of zombies rushes towards a screaming baseball team.

“Fine, no—number.” Rain gasps, but his smile is too nefarious for this to be over. “Just admit that you like him.” He springs off the sofa and puts a safe distance between them just as his best friend bellows at him.

“RAIN!”

“Say it.” Rain wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “You’ve been thinking of him. You’ve been dreaming of him. You’ve been wondering about him.”

“I have not.” Sky throws his arms up in the air. “It’s not my fault he’s always there in his stupid suit and his–”

“What?”

Oh no.

Sky shuts up immediately, but the damage is already done. Rain’s surveying him with suspicion now. The cushion in his hand is refashioned into a weapon now as he approaches Sky like a prowling tiger. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing.” Sky looks studiously at the television, where a zombie’s getting its head bashed in with a baseball bat. The carnage on the screen is mild in comparison to what Rain might do if he finds out. “How come you don’t have plans with P’Phayu?”

“He’s got a call— you’re changing the subject!” Rain lopes over to him again. “You’re hiding something!”

“I’m not.” Sky rolls his eyes, too hard, too fake. “Unless you want to hear about my students’ presentation scores?”

“Please. I already know you’re a great teacher, they all did fine.” Rain is unfazed. “What did you mean, Ai Sky?”

He’s doomed.

Doomed. Done for. With his full attention directed at Sky, Rain’s like a small, aggressive dog with a chew toy. It’s only a matter of time when that chew toy gets substituted for Sky. And Sky would like to come out of tonight with no bite marks, metaphorical or otherwise.

With a heavy sigh, Sky tucks his chin into his knees, his official call to truce. Rain follows suit and settles down next to him. The zombies continue their rampage as Sky brings Rain up to speed.

***

“Three weeks.” Rain mutters when Sky finally wraps up. “You’ve been seeing him for three weeks.”

“I haven’t been seeing him.” Sky’s corrections are futile at this point, but he has to try. “We’ve just been working from the same cafe. He’s just been there, and I’ve just been…there.”

“Sky…” Rain’s looking at him with those big, pitying eyes, like he can’t believe Sky’s naivete; in a different time, the roles would be reversed, and Sky would be the one rolling his eyes as he pulled an oblivious Rain away from another charity scam.

“I know.” Sky sighs. “Yeah, I know, Rain.”

“Mmm. Sounds like he’s been trying to spend time with you.” The crinkle of plastic interrupts the screaming around them as Rain tears open a packet of crisps. “Sounds like you’ve been enjoying it.”

Sounds like I have a problem. Sky thinks.

“Sounds like —”

“If you say it sounds like I like him—” Sky’s voice cracks on the last word.

“I won’t.” Rain reassures him as he holds out the crisps so Sky can help himself. “You don’t need to be told the sky is blue. Or that the grass is green. Or that the—”

“I get it!”

“Good.” Rain grins. “Pizza?”

***

Which brings him to now: being dragged into wakefulness by a dream that definitely had nothing to do with a certain shiny-haired lawyer, Sky’s about seventy percent sure. He can’t be doing this, worrying about whether Pai is hijacking his dreams, sneakily muddling up his subconscious mind. That's the opposite of what he's set out to achieve.

Sky has a plan. An airtight plan that will solve his Pai problem once and for all.

He's had time to think on the bus ride to Lopburi, and it's clear to him now that he's been hoodwinked. Conditioned, like a bloody dog, into accepting Pai's presence in his life. The man has turned his peaceful lunch hours into a psychology experiment and Sky into an unwilling test subject. Well, now's Sky's chance to condition the nuisance of a man out of his system. Ten days of running around his humid hometown and working odd jobs and repairing every crack in the walls of his childhood home should set him back on track.

It’ll work, it has to work because if it doesn’t…

With a frustrated groan,Sky burrows his face into the green jacket and exhales. This won’t do. He’s on his mid-term break, he’s supposed to relax and forget that Bangkok exists for the week. He’s supposed to drink coconut water, barley tea, and whatever else his father offers him every four hours while he goes around the house changing light bulbs and fixing the tech devices that have given up on his Pa.

That’s it, that’s the agenda, with no room for dreams or nightmares, or thoughts of anything other than food and electrical circuits.

His father greets him in the kitchen. “I made breakfast. Coffee?”

Sky mumbles his thanks as he shuffles past to the instant coffee.

“You haven’t been eating.” His father nudges him. “All bones–”

Sky doesn’t bother correcting him, about how his lunches for the past month have been halves of kaya toast and almond croissants and cookies the size of a saucer.

“—We’re going to fix that this week.”

“Careful.” Sky adds an extra spoon of sugar to his coffee. “I might end up spending all week napping on the sofa instead of helping P’Len with his shed, and whatever else you’ve signed me up for.”

His father looks sheepish as he meets his son’s gaze. “You know how they are, they heard our star architect was in town and lined up for appointments. How could I say no?”

“And I don’t need you to say no.” Sky stifles a yawn. “Just…leave some time in my schedule so I can help out here, Pa.” His childhood home is immaculate: bright and open and full of the sort of lightness and warmth that Sky only associates with Home. It just needs some new light bulbs and the living room could do with a fresh coat of paint.

“The monkeys robbed the papaya tree today.” His father reports. “Can you pick up fruit from the shop on your way back from Len’s?”

Lightness, warmth, and monkeys — the three essential elements that tell Sky he’s home.

“Didn't Aa Palm need help picking out kitchen tiles?” Sky's father looks up from the stove, with a grimace.

“She did, but I told her you wouldn't have the time. You know how she is, she'll end up expecting you to lay them for her.”

“It's okay.” Sky puts on his best nonchalant tone. “Tell her I'll drop by tomorrow.” He could do with the extra workload, for reasons related to a certain psychology experiment.

His father looks quizzically at him. “You don't even like Aa Palm.”

“I just don’t want you to be blacklisted from the neighbourhood lunches.” It's a feeble excuse, but it's the best thing he has that morning.

“What a selfless son I have.”

That's not the adjective Sky would use to describe himself.

***

Chapter Text

He’s not here.

Prapai glances around the uni cafe, just in case he’s missed the fluffy head of hair bent over a drawing tablet, but it’s impossible to miss Sky in this sparsely-populated cafe.

No one is here. Not the table that likes to discuss true crime podcasts at the top of their lungs, not the women who sit in the corner and crochet new patterns every week, not even the loud kids that called him a sugar daddy that one time – it had been fun to see Sky do a double take at that.

A chat with the barista gives him his answer: the mid-term break.

Of course, everyone’s away for the next ten days. He can have his pick of table and work out of here as long as he likes, in the absence of a crowd of customers.

All of this means nothing without Sky.

Sky, who didn’t even mention that he was going to be on break.

How is he going to survive ten days without seeing him?

The question comes easily and Pai doesn’t bat it away. Denying it would be pointless anyway, not when he has all the evidence he needs to tell him that he’s a bit taken with Sky, from his shiny, shiny hair, to the tips of his scuffed converse shoes, to the way he rolls his eyes at Pai’s questions, the way he slow blinks when he’s reading one of his technical papers, and how he scoffs — without even realising it — when one of the tables says something complimentary about Pai’s suits. Okay, maybe he’s more than just a bit taken with Sky. Maybe some of those hours he’s spent with Sky at the cafe have not actually been dedicated to his own work, but that’s irrelevant in the face of the fact that Prapai likes Sky.

He likes Sky and he can’t imagine a lunch hour without him, and maybe, just maybe that could extend into other spheres of Pai’s life, but he can’t think about those possibilities, not when Sky won’t even give him his number.

His mind wanders to the car ride the night before. Sky had flinched and practically hurled himself out the car, all because Pai had touched his shoulder and asked him if he was okay. Maybe Sky couldn’t wait to have ten days to himself. Maybe Sky would love nothing more to have his lunch hour to himself again. Maybe Pai has this all wrong, and the wiser move here would be to bow down, to give up and stop being a thorn in Sky’s side.

But then…

Sky had asked him how his day was. It had been Sky, not Pai who had initiated the conversation in the car, Sky had even listened to him blab about Plerng — Plerng, of all people! — and that had to mean something, right?

Pai stares despondently at the menu display, wonders if it’s even worth buying a croissant ( always almond, Sky seems to like those the best) if he can’t sneak half of it into Sky’s plate and be rewarded with a glare and a sliver of a chocolate cookie.

Ten days.

He’s just going to have to ask Namtan to drown him in casework, until preschool pick-up at three.

***

The first three days are a breeze. Sky embraces the humidity, the sweat running down his face as he picks out tiles, examines support pillars, even helps P’Tom build a wall as their friendly neighbour cracks open beers and catches Sky up with the local gossip that his father is too diplomatic to divulge. The information overload and the heavy lifting knocks Sky out at the end of every day, no dreams, no nightmares, no thoughts.

It’s almost ruined by the moon when it peeks through Sky’s window one night, just as he’s falling asleep.

He almost thinks it then, as he squints through sleep-ridden eyes.

That glint of moonlight in the dark sky would pale in comparison to the sparkle in a certain pair of warm brown eyes.

He drifts off before he can complete the damning thought.

***

“You’ve got a video call with the Kuala Lumpur clients at ten. Then a review meeting with the research team before we break for lunch –”

“Let’s do that status meeting at two, I can review the paperwork during lunch.”

Namtan looks up from her notes and fixes Prapai with an appraising look. “No lunch plans?” She almost smirks, controlling her expression at the last minute, but only because she knows it’ll rile him up more.

Prapai sighs, marvelling at her ability to ask the same question three days in a row, without making it sound like a cliche. He wonders for a brief moment if Phan’s put her up to it, but Namtan would never betray him like that.

“No lunch plans. I thought you’d be glad I was back in the office.”

“I thought I would be too.” She stares at him, long and thoughtful before moving along to the next item on her list.

***

The urgent thud of footsteps against bare concrete drowns out the serenity of the night.

Thud thud thud. Incessant, constant, always just behind him, threatening to catch up to him as Sky tears through the dark street, his heart in his throat, his body on fire as he struggles to keep going, to make it out. Blood trickles down his face, mixes with his sweat and messes with his senses, throws him off-tempo.

Not this again.

He can’t slow down, can’t let Gun catch up to him.

The wind howls around him, sweeps the road from under his feet and sends him hurtling into the depths of the chasm, where it doesn’t matter how fast Sky runs, because there is no getting out.

Laughter. Above him. A single voice at first, which devolves quickly into a cacophony of cackles.

I told you. You’re a waste of time.

They echo in the chasm around him, even as Sky claws at the rough walls, tries to pull himself out, to win, because he has to win.

Darkness.

No chasm.

No pinhole of light above him anymore. Just Sky and the nothingness of the dark.

A sob escapes his dry throat as the walls close in on him, bury him in a shower of debris.

Sky wakes in a flailing panic, tangled up in his duvet and out of breath. A child whimpers outside his window, the cry bounces off the walls of his room.

Children outside his window at this hour?

It’s not a child, it’s him, crying, sobbing uncontrollably, with no space in between for breaths. Frantically, Sky stuffs the duvet into his mouth to keep the sobs at bay, away from his father in the bedroom next door. His body fights for air, desperate to breathe.

He’s okay. It’s okay. Just a nightmare.

Just a fractured memory from his past back to torment him.

Why now?

The answer is irrelevant, it just is. This is Sky’s normal, a part of him that he’s made his peace with.

A waste of time.

Unlovable. Unworthy.

All lies, barefaced and obvious, and they shouldn’t bother him.

Not unless there’s a grain of truth in it all.

Sky’s fingers cut ridges into the soft cotton of the green jacket as he buries his face in it and surrenders to the silent comfort it brings.

Reminders of disinfectant and hot chocolate, gentle, unsure touches and reassurance.

It’s okay. It’s alright. It’s going to be okay.

He repeats those magic words, and soothes himself into a troubled sleep.

***

“Is everyone asleep?” Plerng sings across the hall, only for his sister to clamp her hand over his mouth. “Shh! You’ll wake them up!”

“Not a chance.” Plerng whispers back as they sneak down the dark hallway, to the door at the far end. Plerng sticks his head in and blinks against the dim glow of the night lamp.

“Is he…?”

“Out.” Plerng confirms. “He’s even snoring. Listen.” The door opens a tad wider so Phan can get a better look at her brother and nephew, fast asleep in the small race car-shaped bed, their chests rising and falling in tandem. “Ben’s going to kick him off the bed in his sleep.”

“And we’ll still find him fast asleep on the floor.”

“At least he’s sleeping again.”

“He’s an idiot.”

“Such an idiot.”

The siblings sigh in unison.

“Sleeping in Ben’s room again…this isn’t good.” Phan says once they’re back in the kitchen. “He’s working through the day again, too.”

“That bad?” Her brother rustles through the drawers. “I swear we had some cheese balls here somewhere.”

“Top shelf.” Phan tells him. “In that cereal box.”

“Mae’s idea to keep them away from Ben?” Plerng rattles the box of unsweetened muesli and digs out a clear pack of delicious, vivid orange garbage.

“You, actually.” Phan smirks. “Ben has manners, and taste.”

“No cheese balls for you then.” He shoots her the finger as he settles down next to her. “This have to do with Cafe Guy?”

“Probably.” Phan steals a cheese ball out of the packet before Plerng can get it away from her in time. “He’s stopped going to the cafe.”

“Think he got dumped?”

She shrugs. “He won’t say, but I wouldn’t voluntarily choose to lock myself in my office to read land laws from the 70s if going on a date was an option.”

“Do we have photos?” Plerng holds a cheese ball up against his face. “Do you think neon orange is my colour?”

“Ask me tomorrow when I remember what neon orange is.”

“You’re drunk.” Plerng snorts as he deposits the cheese ball on the top of his head. “Maybe I should dye my hair.”

“You’re drunk.” Phan counters. They’re both drunk, having to smile at stuffy old men at promotional galas does that to them. “Maybe I should send one of the interns out to…gather information.”

“To spy on Cafe Guy, you mean. What’ll that get you?”

Phan shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe I can…” She trails off and Plerng does not make an attempt to fill in the silence.

“We could bribe him, like they do in those shows.” She muses.

Plerng speaks through a mouthful of cheese dust. “Isn’t that to get rid of them?”

“No reason why the reverse shouldn’t work.” Phan shrugs. “Or maybe we could just beg him, really hard.”

He gives it a thought. “Maybe. He could be one of those doe-eyed kind types that might fall for some tears.”

“I’m an ugly crier.”

“Yeah.” Plerng admits grudgingly. “Me too. We might scare him off.”

“This is hard.” Phan plops her head down against the marble counter in frustration. “I can’t think of one way to help him. How does phi make it look so easy?”

“He’s the worst.” Plerng hops off the barstool and turns his attention to another cabinet.

“Stupid selfless asshole.” His sister agrees from her marble pillow.

“Want another drink?” Plerng holds up the decanter from their secret drinks cabinet.

“Please.”

***

It’s nearing eleven in the morning when Sky finally wakes up. This shift in his schedule causes his father to slink into the room and declare that Sky has a fever and must absolutely stay in bed that day, and no, it doesn’t matter that Aa Palm wants him to meet the contractor that day and explain his job to him, or that the new owners at the convenience store want him over to inspect some beams and suggest a design for their apartment, Sky’s not allowed out of the house.

“I’m not sure you should travel back tomorrow.” His father tells him when Sky finally makes it to the living room sofa that afternoon.

“I’ll be fine, Pa.” Sky puts on his steadiest voice, the act is intended for himself as much as it is for his father. “Nothing your jok can’t fix.”

And that’s how he finds himself on the sofa, propped up against a mountain of cushions and eating his way through a too-big helping of his father’s special porridge. He decides to spend the rest of the afternoon reading, cocooned in his cushion fort, with his father’s show playing in the background, as the two men divide their time between their respective activities and making small talk as the thoughts occur to them. It’s soothing and comfortable, and so when the corners of Sky’s vision begin to soften and blur with sleep, Sky gives in.

He wakes up to the sound of fireworks and music, and a pair of familiar eyes smiling at him.

Pai.

Here? In his living room? How did he track him down?

He’s wearing a bow-tie and a suit, a notch up from his characteristically expensive suits. He’s got stubble, and when he raises his right hand to comb his dark hair away from his face, Sky spots the serpent tattooed onto his knuckles. Weird. Since when does Pai have a badly-done hand tattoo? Sky’s stared at those hands for what feels like a century now, he’d have noticed an ugly snake tattoo.

The stubble suits him though, which is not surprising. The man would look handsome in a neon latex bodysuit. He shouldn’t tell him that, it’ll only make the idiot grin wider, and maybe show up in a neon latex bodysuit.

“It’s that guy you like.” His father’s voice from somewhere to his left shocks Sky into full consciousness.

“W–what?” He stutters at the statement. How does his father know?

“Isn’t it?” His father shrugs. “I thought you really liked him.”

“No, I don’t!” Sky flails as he struggles into a seated position.

His father looks at him like he’s trying to discern whether it’s Sky or the fever speaking.

“Okay. I thought it was that guy you liked during school.” His father pauses the TV so that Pai’s face is frozen in place. “Frost Patheera? Isn't that him? Must have been his earlier films. He looks really young here.”

An actor -- one whose content he consumed as a coping mechanism when the world was too dark and Sky was clawing around for the faintest sliver of light.

With the frame frozen like this, Sky is able to pick out the differences. Thinner mouth, a different nose, a more square jaw. The same cocky expression, the same perpetually-laughing eyes.

Frost Patheera, his favourite actor.

The reason for his defeat.

The film continues in the background as Sky’s thoughts take over.

He didn’t even think about him for that long.

He was just confused from the fever and exhaustion.

He barely even had a positive thought about the man.

But that had not been the deal, not what Sky had agreed to.

If he’s being honest with himself, he’s going to have to admit defeat.

And as much as Sky hates to lose, he hates lies more.

There’s no way around it.

***

Prapai can’t do it anymore, can’t trawl through another court document on a topic he has no interest, or clients in. If he has to read one more zoning bye-law, he might actually combust, right here at his desk. That would really give the interns something to talk about.

He slams the file shut and pushes his stack of records as far away from him as possible.

What now?

He could go for a walk around the office building, or stare at the wood panelling in front of him for the remainder of the working day.

Tomorrow, he can go back to his table at the cafe, and hopefully, if the break is the only reason he hasn’t been around, Sky will be there, and maybe he won’t roll his eyes and run away if Pai tells him he missed him.

Pai hopes he rolls his eyes, it really brings out the gold in them.

***

“P’Tan.” Phan sticks her head into her brother’s office before turning to look at his secretary, a look of quiet disbelief on her face. “Where’s my brother?”

The secretary shrugs, not bothering to look up from her work. “He said he was going out for lunch.”

“He said that? Do we know where he—?”

“The uni cafe.” Namtan looks up long enough to smile at Phan, arguably her favourite person in the office. “There’s cake in the conference room.”

***

So he’s earlier than he usually is, sue him ( he’d win, he’s practically unbeatable, and that is just a fact), but Prapai refuses to miss Sky on account of the place being too crowded, or not finding a seat. He makes a beeline for their table, even orders everything on the menu, just in case it looks like he’s hogging a table from paying customers, and yes, maybe this is overkill, but the stakes are high for Prapai, he can’t afford to be rational right now.

Twelve turns to twelve-thirty and there is no sign of Sky.

A quarter to one, the first of the lunch crowd trickles in, but still no Sky. Maybe a class just ran longer than it should.

Maybe Sky’s switched cafes?

One ‘o’ clock, the door swings open, and there he is — a vision in a striped shirt and khaki pants, his usual work bag slung over his shoulder. He looks through the crowd and right at Pai, who is very aware of the fact that he’s staring wide-eyed and mouth open, which doesn’t help his case with a man who doesn’t like to be perceived, but he can’t help it.

Sky looks…angry, like locking eyes with Pai has ruined his whole day. Pai only hopes that he’s angry enough to come over and berate him in person, because at this point, Pai will welcome any interaction with Sky.

Prapai pulls it together enough to smile and wave at Sky, who mutters something unintelligible before striding over to their table.

“Hi there.” Pai’s voice is breathier than he remembers when he finally finds it. “Did you—”

Have a good break? Miss me? Count the days you would see me again?

Sly slaps a hand on the table as he glares at Pai. The smile slips off his face.

“I have a faculty meeting for the next hour.” Sky snarls at him, like it’s entirely Pai’s fault that the architecture faculty’s chosen to ruin everyone’s lunch hour.

“I—” Well, if Sky thinks it’s his fault then it must be.

But Sky has no interest in hearing him out. He casts a smoldering look at the arrangement of cookies and tea cakes on the table in front of him.

“I’ll block you if you interrupt my presentation.” He helps himself to a cookie — a full cookie! — before stomping away out the door.

Is he still asleep? Is this one of those exam hall dreams where he’s dreaming about a scenario that hasn’t yet happened? The kind that ends with him stressed out and embarrassed, and possibly naked in public?

He pinches himself, just to make sure.

“Ow!”

So, not a dream. His eyes travel from the door Sky disappeared out of, to the plate of cookies in front of him.

To the sticky note stuck to the table.

Pai blinks. Once, twice, three times just to make sure.

He counts — one–two—three…ten.

Ten digits.

He reaches for it with shaking hands, counts again, just to make sure.

Ten digits.

A phone number.

I’ll block you if you interrupt the presentation.

A strangled gasp escapes Prapai as he stares at the sticky note. He’s supposed to wait. A whole hour.

Now how is that fair?

***

Sixty-one minutes after Sky slammed his number down on their table, his phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number.

Is there a daily text limit?

There is another buzz.

This is Pai, by the way. In case you gave your number out to another attractive lawyer.

Sky scoffs at the blatant overconfidence. He should have accounted for this. Well, he dug his own grave.

Please. I didn’t give my number to any attractive lawyers today.

“Huh.” Prapai stares in disbelief at the message. “Such a meanie.” He waits for a minute, just in case Sky does have a limit on how many messages he’s allowed to send, before he chances a second message, this one with an emoji tacked onto the end, blissfully unaware of the fact that outside his door, in the kitchenette, his interns are inaugurating a new wave of speculation while digging into takeaway boxes full of chocolate cake,cookies and croissants sourced from the uni cafe.

***

Chapter Text

Nothing really changes in the weeks after Sky gives up his number, which is a fact Sky will never share with Rain, because the only thing worse than having Pai send him a million messages a day is Rain sending him a sea of ‘I told you so’ texts.

They still meet for lunch at the cafe, and Sky still snaps at Pai when he tries to fish for a compliment. He still refuses to let Pai buy him a coffee, but is more open to the idea of stealing food off of the other man’s plate, and about allowing him to do the same. He doesn’t even ask for his highlighters back, and almost smiles when Pai pockets one of them, before hastily covering it up with a cough, because he can’t let Pai get too comfortable.

Not yet. Not when he’s still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You’re staring at me again.” Pai looks at him over his cup of coffee.

“No I’m not.” Sky glues his eyes to his laptop screen. “I was resting my eyes.”

“On me.” Sky doesn’t have to look up to see Pai’s grin. “Because I’m soothing. It’s okay.” Pai hums. “I can’t stop looking at you either.”

Yeah. Sky knows. He scoffs and keeps his head down. Silence, Sky has learnt, is the best way to de-escalate Pai’s gloating.

***

Nothing has changed and it is a realisation that is baffling to Sky. He’s not sure what he’d expected, maybe for a switch to flip, for Pai to show him his true colours – to raise his voice when Sky disagrees with him, to do more than look temporarily wounded when Sky insists on sitting opposite him and not next to him, but so far, the only new information Sky’s gathered is that Pai has a preference for the winky face emoji and that he likes to text in full paragraphs, even when Sky only answers in monosyllables.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” Pai follows him out of the cafe at the end of the lunch hour one Friday.

“Why?” Saturdays are no-plan days, and usually spent doing laundry and trying to revive the plants in his balcony.

“I thought we could go out. For dinner. There’s this rooftop restaurant near the riverfront—”

Dinner? This is a deviation from their usual routine. It wouldn’t be as casual as their coincidental-not-coincidental lunches. It would mean dressing up, and private tables and talking. Probably.

The thing is, Sky’s never been out to dinner. Not on the dates he had in college, not even with — him. Gun never took him out, he took him to places, to show him off and impress his loser friends, to give them something to gawp at, but that was an entirely different thing. Sky doesn’t think Pai’s like that, he wouldn’t take Sky out to make a point — the lawyer has money (presumably, if his suits are anything to go by) and an innate charm, he doesn’t need Sky to impress people.

It must be about something else then. Why does Pai want to take him out to dinner on one of the busiest nights of the week?

Not — it’s not so that he can — you know?

Sky stops in his tracks and turns on Pai who recognises the shift in Sky’s expression, but doesn’t say anything. If Sky was expecting to see the answer reflected in his eyes, he’s in for a disappointment, there’s nothing there, no mischief or malice that speaks to his intent.

“Why?” Sky decides there is no other way to get to the answer.

“Why…do I want to take you out to dinner?” Confusion flickers on his face but he composes himself. “Well, the river’s pretty at night–” Sky knows — all glimmering lights in the velvety dark, like Pai’s eyes. “ — and the place has an extensive dessert menu and I thought you might like that—what?” He looks wounded by the glare Sky sends his way. “ — you have a sweet tooth, I’ve seen you eat cookies and kaya toast every day!” That is a fair point, fine, Sky will let it go.

“That’s it? That’s why you want to go to dinner?”

“That’s it.” Pai confirms. “Although, if you’re offering...” A devious grin works its way up his face and if they weren’t on campus, in full view of students and members of the faculty, Sky would have kicked him. Kicked at him, Pai has a talent for sidestepping Sky’s half-hearted attacks. “...I do have a list of questions that I could bring.”

“A list of questions?”

Pai nods. “Yeah, like, what’s your favourite colour?”

A list of questions. A dessert menu. A breathtaking view. Two of those things sound like they might actually be fun.

“I’m not going to dress up.” Sky declares. It’s going to take more than a crème brûlée to parade him around like he’s an exotic bird.

“Okay.” Pai shrugs. “Seven ‘o’ clock? Can I pick —”

“Text me the address. I’ll see you there.”

Pai only grins at him like he’s a child who’s been caught trying to sneak ice-cream out of the freezer. “It was worth a shot. Fine, I’ll see you there.”

***

He should have said no gifts, Sky thinks as he stares dismally at the bouquet of sunflowers that Pai offers him at the restaurant door.

How was he supposed to know? Sky’s never received flowers before, and certainly not a whole garden’s worth, which is what Pai’s holding out. The man looks like a reality-show groom in his cream suit and his polished dress shoes. Sky on the other hand, looks like he should be holding the boom mic somewhere out of frame. And he thought his dark blue jeans were overkill, because he didn’t want to come across as a complete slob just to prove a point.

“You look great.” Pai proves that he is a liar as he smiles at him and holds out the flowers. “For you.”

“I didn’t ask for flowers.”

“I know. I wanted to get you some anyway. Don’t you like them?” Pai frowns as he examines the bouquet. “They reminded me of you.”

Oh, this is going to be a good one. Sky waits to hear what he has in common with a bouquet of sunflowers. Maybe it’s that they both wither at dusk, once the light of day gives way to the terrors of night.

“It’s — just—” Prapai stumbles over his words, which is a first, and Sky can’t fight back the smirk that paints itself on his face. “Yesterday, when we were outside, the sun lit up your eyes and I thought, ‘wow, the sunflowers must all smile at him’, and I was right, see? They suit you.” Pai holds up the flowers, urging Sky to see himself in their yellow and brown faces.

The sun in his eyes. Sky almost rolls his eyes before he remembers his own thoughts about Pai’s dark, twinkling eyes. Something incoherent about moonlight and night skies…

Sky is a lot of things, but he’s not a hypocrite, and that is the only reason why he accepts the bouquet. “Thanks.”

***

Sky hates to admit it, but Pai was right.

The riverfront is stunning from this height, and although the restaurant is ridiculously pretentious in its decor and ambience, the food is fantastic, and the staff pleasant and friendly, although judging by the way the bartender waves at Pai and the hostess asks after his sister, that seems to have more to do with Pai than anything else.

Pai’s secured them the best table and doesn’t seem to mind that Sky splits his attention between him and the river below.

“Do you bring all your dates here?” Sky asks once Pai’s handed the menu back to the soft-spoken waitress.

“So this is a date?” Prapai winks at him, egging him on.

“Unless you give everyone flowers…” Sky stays purposely nonchalant, refusing to blush and look flustered in front of Pai.

“I do not.” Pai affirms as he leans towards Sky. “You greatly misunderstand my social life.”

“Sure.” Sky says just as another server walks up to them to greet Pai in person. “You’re just a regular homebody.”

“I swear.” Pai insists as soon as she walks away. “My brother’s friend’s with the owner, I’m just reaping the benefits.”

“I don’t care.” Sky shrugs as he turns back to the view.

“Sounds like you care a little–” The cockiness leaves him under the weight of Sky’s glare. “No, you’re definitely right. Should we get some wine?”

“So.” Pai says midway through their meal when they both put their cutlery down for a break. “I made a list. Of questions.” He pulls up the notes app on his phone and lays it in the centre of their table.

Sky peers at it, his suspicion giving way to disbelief as he reads down the list.

Favourite colour

Favourite food

Favourite weekend activity

Cats or dogs?

Mountains or beaches?

Coffee or tea ( the ‘coffee has been circled aggressively)

Favourite flower

“What do you want to know all this for — favourite subject in school— are you trying to reset my password?”

“I’m just curious.” Pai sits back in his seat and pouts — pouts! — at Sky. “These are important questions. I want to know what you like.”

What he likes. How odd, it is such a simple request, a basic consideration, and yet, the only time Sky’s given up that information has been to Rain, because no one else has ever asked him before. Why does Pai care all of a sudden?

With a sinking heart, Sky realises that it’s not about Pai; this is what dates are supposed to be like - an endless list of questions and getting to know each other. Worse still, Sky realises that by that definition, he’s never been on an actual date before. It’s a hell of a conclusion to come to here, in the presence of the ridiculously attractive man who is trying his best to get to know him, oblivious to the fact that he has the attention of the entire restaurant.

Of the entire uni cafe.

Of most of the world, because well, he’s him.

“Emerald green.” Sky surprises himself with the method he chooses to fight the silence that threatens to pull him under. “And I like anything that you can eat with rice. And dessert, anything, everything.”

Opposite him, Pai’s eyes twinkle with barely-contained excitement as he waits for Sky to go down the list. Saying no now would be like depriving a puppy of a well-deserved treat.

With a resigned sigh, Sky complies.

“P’Pai.” The questionnaire, and more importantly, Pai’s reaction to his answers, has encouraged Sky to try something new, to see for himself if it really is the life-changing experience Pai’s making it out to be. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Of course.” The answer comes readily, like Pai doesn’t see the potential danger in opening himself up to inquiry, like he doesn't realise that questions can sting.

What makes you think you’re so special?

Who told you you could interrupt me like that?

Did I ask for your opinion?

Are you looking down on me? Do you think you’re better than me?

Those are the questions Sky’s more used to, but they’re not the ones he has for Pai.

What do you want from me?

Where is this going?

Will I have to change my life if – when– you decide you’re bored of me?

Why me?

He can’t ask those questions, not without coming across like an insecure mess, not right now when they’re supposed to be enjoying the view, the wine, and each other’s company, when the only weird thing about Sky's the fact that he doesn’t like noodles.

“Cats or dogs?” Sky takes a sip of his wine to wash down the lump in his throat.

“Oh.” Pai thinks about it for a second, really mulls it over like he’s trying to do the question justice. “Dogs, but not the small, yappy kind – those are scary. I got chased by one when I was a boy.”

The mental image of a little Pai being terrorised by an even smaller dog— in Sky’s head it’s a shih-tzu — draws out a snort of laughter from Sky. He does his best to suppress it, but it’s already too late; Pai’s clutching his heart and looking every shade of hurt, and God, he’s so cute like this, Sky can’t look away.

But once again, Pai is oblivious to the attention, to the effect he has on people.

“My turn.” He beckons for a server. “Dessert? They do a killer tiramisu here.”

***

Pai’s phone rings while they’re waiting for dessert. An important call, one he can’t afford to miss.

“Do you mind if I take this?” Opposite him, Sky scoffs, and one day Pai will tell him just how much that noise sets his heart on fire, but right now is not the time for that.

“Take your call. I need a break from your staring anyway.”

“I’ll stop staring when you stop being handsome.” Pai winks at him, relishing in the way the man’s eyes widen as he processes the compliment, and Pai is glad they’re in public, because in the privacy of their table at the cafe, he would get kicked for that.

He excuses himself and finds a quiet spot in the rooftop garden.

“We have an inquisitive little mouse on our hands.” His sister informs him through the phone. “Two, if you count me.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “Are you on a date? Did Cafe Guy finally give you the time of day?”

“I was promised a little mouse, not an overfed rat.”

“Oh, you think you’re a comedian.” His sister is amused, dangerously so. “Fine. I’ll extract my answers in person. Here’s Little Mouse.”

“Pa…” Even through the phone, Pai can tell Ben’s fighting sleep. “Aa Phan said…Pa will be late.”

“Pa will be a little late.” Pai agrees. “Will Benny be able to go to sleep without me?”

There is a moment of silence on the other end before his son speaks again. “Will Pa come say good night when he’s back?”

“Of course.”

“Okay. Good night, Pa.” The line distorts as his son yawns. “Pa.” He’s shocked into awareness by a final thought. “Can we go to the park tomorrow?”

They can go to Mount Everest, if that’s what Ben wants, but Ben wants to go to the park, so yes, Pai will happily spend his Sunday being bitten by gnats.

“You’re coming home tonight?” His slick-tongued sister is back to terrorise him. “How’d you mess up?”

“I am not discussing my date with you.” Pai rushes to hang up just in time to hear Phan screech, hopefully far away from his son’s room. “So it is a date!”

***

Sky isn’t at their table when Pai returns, and for a split second, Pai worries that his gremlin of a sister’s cursed the evening with her gloating. Did he mess up? Maybe the interrogation around his favourite colour was his breaking point, Pai’s known from day one that Sky doesn’t like to share details about his life, maybe this was the final straw…

Then he spots him.

By a table at the other end of the terraced seating, Sky stands next to a woman as he stares down a red-faced man in a too-tight leather jacket.

“She told you not to touch her.” Sky’s voice carries in the wind as Prapai weaves through the tables to get to them.

“So? Mind your own business, we were having a private conversation. You didn’t mean it, did you, babe?” Leather Jacket gets to his feet and takes a step towards Sky just as Pai gets to him, but Sky's attention is elsewhere and he doesn't notice.

“Jealous my girlfriend won’t give you the time of day?” His leer makes Pai’s skin crawl, but Sky is unfazed by the tough guy act. He ignores the man and turns instead to the woman. “Would you like him to leave you alone?”

Pai can tell that Sky’s in control, his voice authoritative, an antidote to any glamour that Leather Jacket may have duped his date with. Sky sees right through him and wastes no time in conveying his disdain for the man in one of the best ways possible — by ignoring him completely.

On a less stressful occasion, Pai would have been happy to watch Sky in action like this.

“Yeah.” Her response comes without hesitation.

“This is ridiculous.” Leather Jacket sneers. “C’mon babe, we just ordered. She’s just playing hard to get, you know how they get.” He addresses the restaurant at large, as more heads turn to take stock of the situation. A couple of the tables murmur their disapproval. No one does anything.

Except for Sky.

“Darling, c’mon, we’re in public, don’t make a scene —”

Sky interrupts the man for a second time, once again ignoring the death-glare the man directs at him. “You want to hang out with me?”

“Yes, please.” The woman gets to her feet and flanks Sky’s other side.

“Hey! I brought her here, she's with me.” Leather Jacket drops the pacifist act. He doesn’t look like the type to let things go; Pai knows his kind all too well — overconfident assholes who think they’re owed everything from the world just because they have money to throw around. They’re spoiled brats, who’ve never learnt to live with rejection and react to it in the most predictable way possible.

On cue, Leather Jacket lunges for Sky, or the woman at his side, the intended target is irrelevant as Pai moves in.

“Don’t touch him.” Pai grabs the man by his arm just as he extends it; the unexpected interruption throws the man off-balance and causes him to bump into his table, upending the bottle of wine, which makes its merry way down to his expensive shoes.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

Pai watches, fighting to keep the smile off his face as the man sputters, struggling to decide what he’s more angry about — the public rejection, or the fact that his calfskin shoes will never be the same again.

He chooses option three, to rain bloody murder down onto the smug-faced man in the white suit. Their audience of diners gasps, someone curses, as the man shoves Pai, to little consequence. Pai stands his ground.

“You son of a–” In almost comedic fashion, he tries to claw at Pai’s lapels. Timing however, is not on his side. The stone-faced bouncer at the main door now plants himself between Pai and the tomato-faced man child, effectively extinguishing his eagerness for a fight.

“I’m a paying customer and they’re harassing me —” A bill is presented to him by a smiling server — Rania, Pai thinks her name is. Over the bouncer’s shoulder, Rania winks at him before she delivers her standard address, reserved for all belligerent customers at this joint.

Please pay your bill and see yourself out, or risk being removed and blacklisted forever. We can call the police if you’d like to file a complaint for harassment.

Of course he doesn’t want the police involved.

Pai tears his attention away from Leather Jacket and focuses it instead on Sky and his newfound friend.

The steely-eyed glare he directs at Leather Jacket is unwavering, a silent warning, and Pai has no doubt that Sky will not hesitate if it does come down to it. It’s only when he allows his gaze to travel down to Sky’s hands that he realises the precariousness of the defenses Sky’s set up around him.

Although Sky’s doing a hell of a job keeping the emotion off of his face, his shaking hands give him away. Pai looks back at his face, and this time, he spots it, the glassy sheen in his gaze that he’d previously mistaken for ice.

He’s somewhere else.

Gently, afraid to cause him any more harm, but determined to get him away from the situation, Pai reaches for Sky’s hand.

***

Sky’s discovered another anomaly, a deviation from the other alleged dates he went on as an oblivious teenager.

He hasn’t felt the need to come up with an excuse to get out of it.

Not that it ever worked with Gun, no headache or family emergency, feigned or otherwise, was grave enough for Sky to get a pass from being his shadow whenever Gun deemed it necessary. The only way to get away from Gun in social settings was to wait until he was drunk and stumbling over thin air. Sometimes he would believe that he’d told Sky to leave, other times he’d threaten to break Sky’s bones because he was certain Sky had gone home with someone else.

Tonight, the serpentine thrum of foreboding that usually has him feeling restless and overstimulated, is dormant. Whether it’s the view, the wine, or Pai’s ridiculous tendency to pay him compliments every chance he gets, Sky finds that he’s not having a bad time. He’s enjoying himself, even.

So when Pai excuses himself to go take a call, Sky actually takes the opportunity to take photographs, to commit the evening to memory, because yes, he does want to remember this: the river view, the wine glasses for two, the sunflowers in the centre of the table, Prapai’s white jacket, draped over the back of his chair, a subtle reminder that he’s not here alone.

It’s all very…nice.

Not that he’d admit it to anybody.

His attention wanders to the other diners around the, more couples, happy in their own bubbles ( that he counts him and Pai among those is something he stores away to dissect at a later date).

And then he spots her.

A young woman, no older than twenty-one, seated all the way at the other end of the establishment who, unlike Sky, looks like she isn’t having a good time. At first, Sky thinks it’s just a bad first date, the guy opposite her looks disinterested, he barely looks up from his phone and dismisses the server with a wave of his hand when she comes up to them with the menu, and yes, Sky knows better than to judge other people’s relationships, he’s been informed that couples can have different dynamics, and so he tries not to think too much of it when it looks like the guy intercepts a menu before his date can touch it and orders for the both of them instead. It’s when the guy physically pulls his date back into her seat after she tries to stand up, that Sky drops all intention of giving him the benefit of the doubt.

He’s on his feet and at the table in seconds, unaware of the fact that his move through the room has caused the other diners to look his way. With the focus of a pinhole camera, Sky puts himself between the woman and her aggressor. The woman, fortunately, has no qualms about calling the guy out. She nods when Sky asks if the man’s bothering her, even warns the man not to touch her when he looks like he might jump out of his seat and try to pull her away again. Sky physically blocks the attempt as he glares down at the man. “She told you not to touch her.”

This of course, is his invitation to play the victim, to hurl accusations and chest beat and flaunt his masculinity as he attacks Sky’s inability to…what…date beautiful women?

It’s nothing Sky hasn’t heard before, the daggers the man throws his way are about as damaging as withered petals. When he can’t shame Sky into a retreat, he turns on his date, tries to placate her, force her into taking responsibility for his bad behaviour, but Sky has better things to do than to give this loser any time to defend himself, so he interrupts and focuses on the woman instead.

He tries a technique one of the women at Gun’s investor parties had employed to rescue Sky from the clutches of a very handsy, very drunk venture capitalist. She’d given Sky an out by asking him to join her at her table, where her group of friends had shielded Sky from any more unwanted attention. There had been consequences, of course, once Gun had found him at the end of the night, furious that he’d cost him an important deal. Sky’d had to tell everyone at school that he’d walked into a door. But this is different, if Sky can lead her away, she’s not going to go back to him.

What a pity that Gun wasn’t cocky enough to show his true colours this early.

Maybe if he had…

Sky’s thoughts are interrupted as the jerk jumps to his feet and lunges at Sky.

Joke’s on him really, because there’s not a hit that Sky can’t take.

He can take hits, he can’t repel them. Which is why he’s entirely confused when the punch the loser aims at him doesn’t make contact. He’s even more surprised when he hears a new voice snarl at the man, before the idiot is pushed backwards into his table through no effort on Sky’s part.

Don’t touch him.

In the chaos that beckons the restaurant staff and the burly bouncer over, Sky finds the time to look over to the stranger that stepped in to shield him.

Not a stranger. Him.

The spatial awareness comes rushing back to Sky as the blurred shapes around his vision come back into focus, reminding him of where they are and what he’s supposed to be doing. He flinches when a warm touch steadies his shaking hands, an old reflex that Sky can’t seem to banish from his system.

He knows he shouldn’t feel ashamed, but the feeling engulfs him anyway, freezing him in place, transporting him back to …

He can’t. He needs to shake it off.

Rooftop. River. Pointless Quizzes. Sunflowers. Moonlight Eyes. A Date.

“Come on.” A voice, encouraging and gentle, lulls him back to the present and Sky jerks his head sideways to lock eyes with Pai. The man holds his gaze as he nods at him, smiles at him as he’s wont to do, in a way that Sky’s come to expect and cherish, even though he’d dare not admit it to Pai. “I bet we can split that tiramisu into three.”

Three. The woman from earlier, she’s still there, on Sky’s other side. The realisation is as sobering as a bucket of ice-water. With a deep exhale, Sky forces himself to nod. “Yeah, okay.”

Another handy trick that socialising at Gun’s events has taught him — working on autopilot, shoving his thoughts away into the darkest corners of his mind, to be sorted through at a later date.

They make their way through dessert, which can indeed be split three-ways, probably because the kitchen’s sent them a larger-than usual slice. The woman is a newcomer to the city, a student at the arts college, and Sky insists on walking her to her friend’s car when they arrive to pick her up. They pull up her date’s dating app profile as they walk, and block and report him. It’s only once the car disappears into the glimmering mass of traffic that Sky begins to take account of everything else.

The bill, that he doesn’t remember calling for.

The sunflowers, abandoned on their table.

The white jacket, draped over the chair.

Pai…?

Sky looks over his shoulder, and there he is, only a few steps behind him, his jacket draped over his shoulder, the sunflowers tucked under one arm, Sky’s bag slung across the other.

“Come on.” His voice is soft and coaxing again. “Let me drive you home.”

“I—” Sky opens his mouth to protest, to make some weak excuse about why he needs to make his own way back, but in a rare instance, Pai interrupts him.

“Please, Sky, just this once.”

Even at his gentlest, he’s persuasive.

And in a way, Sky owes him, doesn’t he, for ruining everything?

***

Chapter Text

“I won’t say sorry.”

It is Sky’s seventeenth birthday and they’re on their way back from Gun’s party.

Gun’s, not Sky’s, because after six months of dating, Gun’s forgotten his birthday. He should be angry about this, should sulk and whine, the way the couples in his class do when someone forgets an anniversary.

But this is Gun.

Sulking doesn’t work with Gun. Neither do declarations, but Sky’s got too much alcohol and rage in his system to remember that. “You saw what he did, right?”

Sky’s sure of it, Gun couldn’t have been more than a few feet away when the middle-aged creep, an ‘investment consultant’ had snaked a hand around Sky’s waist and tried to manoeuvre his other into Sky’s pants, in full view of everyone else in that dim-lit nightclub. Tried, being the operative word, his attempts had been foiled by the force of Sky’s foot crushing down on his toes. And that had been that, or so Sky had thought, but the swell of pride in his chest at standing up for himself had evaporated when he’d looked over to his boyfriend and found him glaring daggers.

Not at the creep.

At him.

Gun hadn’t said anything then, too caught up in his conversations. Well, there’s nothing stopping him now. The car ride back to Gun’s office — a damp room behind the old dive bar that Gun wants to transform into his personal city of gold— is rife with Gun muttering insults under his breath.

Idiot. Embarrassment. Fucking trash. Ruined my night. I should just get rid of you.

Ugly. Stupid. Pathetic.

It’s only when Gun turns to him to hiss a ‘you’d better apologise to Khun Korn for treating him like that’ that Sky realises the curses are meant for him, that Gun is mad at him, for…what? Standing up for himself? Telling someone to get off him? Telling them he had a boyfriend?

“I’m not going to apologise.” Sky asserts with renewed anger. “You didn’t hear what he said, P’Gun.” A part of him holds onto the hope that letting him in on the full story will sway Gun over to his side. “He… wanted–” Sky’s throat tightens as he recalls the slimy hand on his forearm, the entitlement with which the man had touched him, the way his nails had dug into Sky’s skin, too painful to have been an accident. “ —me to go to the loo with him and —” He shouldn’t need to complete the sentence, but Gun is — not an idiot — just…bad at hearing him. “ — suck him off.” That had been the gist of it, more had been said about Sky’s mouth, his hair, the way he would look on his knees,servile; Sky spares Gun the full details. He is his boyfriend, after all and Sky doesn’t want to hurt him.

The car swerves off the road as Gun parks abruptly on the shoulder and turns the hazard lights on. Not that they work, but still, it’s the principle of it. Gun turns on him, the rage casting shadows in his eyes, and Sky forces himself to look into them, he doesn’t reach out to touch him, Gun doesn’t like him clinging to him, doesn’t like any sort of touch, not even when they have sex, where there are handcuffs to keep Sky in line.

Gun doesn’t like being touched, but he still likes Sky, that much Sky believes. He can be sweet and attentive, always tops up his glass when they go out, always buys him new clothes so he can fit in with the other and he gets jealous, whenever Sky wants to hang out with his friends from school, whenever there’s a party at the mall, Gun pleads with him, begs him not to go. He’s possessive of Sky, and that’s worth something, isn’t it?

So why can’t he be possessive over him now? His inner voice nags him, exasperatedly, Sky’s own mind has lost its patience with him.

“You should have. If that’s what he wanted, then. you. should. have.” Gun punches out each word, like he can’t believe Sky would be so stupid. Maybe Sky is stupid, judging by how his brain is struggling to make sense of the words that came out of Gun’s mouth just now.

“What?”

Gun looks like he might swipe at him. “I said.” He over-enunciates every word. “You should have given him what he wanted. Do I have to explain everything to you, Sky?”

Yes, it would seem Sky does need an explanation.

“If the rich man wants you on your knees for him, you do it.” Gun slams his fist against the steering wheel. “You don’t kick him and tell him to fuck off!” The final word is a roar as the suppressed anger finally breaks through. “He’s an investor, he gets what he wants.”

“He doesn’t get to be a creep—”

“Yes, he does, you idiot!” Gun’s full on yelling now, breaking down the confidence that Sky mustered to get here. “He gets whatever he wants, Sky! You. Don’t get. To fuck this up for me.” Sky fights the urge to cover his ears against the banging. The best strategy here is to shut up, to let Gun’s anger run its course, to let him get it out of his system before he throws Sky out of his car and tells him to make his own way back. Which is nothing new, Gun doesn’t know where Sky lives.

Because the alternative is worse. It’s getting shoved up against walls and being 'disciplined', having his indiscretions corrected at seventeen so he doesn’t repeat them at twenty. He’s always too taken up by the haze of anger or drink to answer why the discipline has to involve choking and cigarette burns, handcuffs and pain. In the smog of sobriety that sometimes overcomes Gun after he’s burnt through everything that Sky has to give and ripped out everything that he doesn’t want to give, he insists the violence is his expression of passion, and Sky believes him every time.

Because Sky is supposed to love him.

But isn’t love about reciprocity? Isn’t Gun supposed to love Sky too?

No wonder his inner voice hates him.

“Who do you think you are, anyway?” Gun’s still going. “Get this through your stupid head, Sky.” He taps the side of his own. “Are you a celebrity? No? Are you a millionaire? No? Are you a politician? No? Are you going to fund this project if Khun Korn backs out? No?” He doesn’t even let Sky speak as he barrels on. “Nothing. That’s what you are. So. Keep. Your ideas. To yourself.” Gun’s fingers jab painfully into Sky’s shoulder as he drives the point home.

Nothing.

Gun thinks he’s nothing, which is why he lets them treat him like that, which is why Gun abandons him for a different set of people every night and returns smelling like them, which is why Gun doesn’t listen when Sky begs for him to see things from his perspective.

“I won’t say sorry.” Sky repeats through the tremor in his voice, determined to stand up for himself if Gun won’t. “He tried to hurt me.” And Gun would see that, if he hadn’t been so busy dancing with the women that Gun claims are just ‘entertainment’, more objects for Gun to drool over.

Is Sky just entertainment?

Just an object, a punching bag for when Gun’s angry, a toy for when Gun wants to play, a scapegoat for when things don’t go his way?

“Fine.” Gun sneers at him, in that low-tone that is far more dangerous than the screaming. It sends electricity crawling up his spine, his body’s way of screaming for him to get away. “Don’t apologise.” A hand snakes up to Sky’s throat, his breath hitches on cue as the adrenaline races through his veins. “I’ll just have to call Khun Korn and tell him on your behalf.” Gun leans in, close enough for Sky to smell smoke,cheap vodka and expensive scotch on his breath. “You’ll see. You’ll mean it by tomorrow.”

“Get away – please.” For everything wrong with this car, the child lock works just fine. Jiggling with the mechanism will only earn Sky a slap across the face.

“Oh, now you’re sweet?” Gun retreats, one hand still shackling Sky’s as he turns on the engine and speeds the rest of the way.

In the aftermath, as Sky stares through watery eyes at the flaking ceiling of the room that smells like rotten mushrooms and his own blood, he’s sure of two things.

That he’s not sorry

That it’s not love.

***

“I won’t say sorry.” Sky breaks the silence between them first and Pai steals a look to find him staring straight ahead through the windshield, his eyes flickering with a spark that Pai interprets as anger. No prizes for guessing who’s on his mind, though Pai hasn’t a clue why Sky would find it necessary to apologise to that sorry excuse of a human being.

“Good.” Pai tells him as they pull into Saturday night traffic. “He deserves the opposite of an apology, if you ask me.” A threat? A punch to the face? The gallows? All of them, honestly.

“Who–” Sky finally looks at him, his brows knit together as he runs Pai’s words through his mind. “- I don’t mean the creep from earlier! He can rot in hell for all I care.” That’s more like it. “I meant — you.” That glint in his eye is back to challenge Pai. “I’m not going to apologise to you.”

And that is such an unexpected statement that it knocks all sense and coherence out of Pai. The light changes to green, and Pai remembers to drive only when the cars behind him start honking murderously.

“Why would you apologise to me?” He asks, once he's figured out how to speak again.

Sky shrugs as he returns his attention to the specks of dust on the windshield. “Causing a scene. Being loud. Ruining the evening. Being an embarrassment.” He lists the reasons off robotically, with a resigned air of familiarity, like he’s reading a standard script from a teleprompter.

Him? Sky thinks he owes Prapai an apology. They’re about a hundred metres away from Sky’s bus stop, and Pai decides he can’t drop the man off before he’s dispelled those notions from Sky’s head once and for all. He pulls over. Next to him, Sky’s breath hitches, a surprise reaction at Pai’s abrupt halt.

“Sky.” Pai plays with his own fingers, deciding it’s a better option than going for Sky’s hand again; experience tells him there’s a seventy-five percent chance he’ll flinch away. “I’m glad you caused a scene. Really. Really.” He repeats the word for emphasis as Sky finally looks at him, the suspicion clear on his face, like he doesn’t believe him. Why? What about Pai makes Sky think that he would feel any other way about this?

Careful. Pai smothers the question on the tip of his tongue. Not everything is about him.

He’s going to have to win him over somehow.

“You looked really good doing it too. All stoic and handsome and…professorial.” And another word, that he won’t use just yet. “Is that how you teach your students?” Pai sighs dramatically. “They’re going to start asking for more classes with you, and then I’ll have to fight them off for your attention.”

That finally does it. Sky blinks at him, mouth agape, before the natural instinct to roll his eyes takes over. “Be serious.”

So flattery will get him somewhere.

“I am being serious.” Pai insists. “You put that clown in his place, probably ruined his entire day, no, his whole life – he’s going to think about it when he’s seventy and miserable and alone, and I think we should celebrate that. Ice cream?”

“Are you…” Sky blinks at him like the action will help him organise Pai’s words into something more coherent. “...asking me to get ice cream?” Sky is flummoxed, the question is unexpected enough to rid his jaw of its tautness. Pai will take that as win.

“It's how I usually end my Saturday dates.” It's not a lie. This statement is finally rewarded with a scoff and Pai's own smile grows wider as Sky finally glares at him, his eyes ablaze in all their glory, like a candle at a vigil, unwavering and defiant.

“Please. You haven't been on a date in three centuries.” He wrinkles his nose and Pai only remembers at the very last minute to tear himself away from the magnetic pull of Sky’s gaze and feign offence. “You brought a list to dinner.”

There's not a whole lot Pai can do to refute that statement, so he holds the sulk for a little longer, until Sky looks away with a shake of his head and an incoherent murmur that Pai chooses to interpret as an endearment and not a comment about his mental capacities, which would probably be closer to the truth.

“Thank you.” Sky addresses him again as he settles back into his seat, the sharp line of his shoulders relaxing into a more comfortable position. “For stepping in. And I'm sorry...”

“Uh-uh!” Pai interjects, clicking his tongue as he cuts Sky short. “No apologies, remember?”

He is rewarded by another impatient sigh, but Sky amends his sentence.

“Fine. I’m… not happy…that the guy lunged at you.”

“Really?” Pai glows almost as brightly as the fire in Sky’s eyes at the admission. “It was more of an uncoordinated shuffle. His shoes were sticky with the wine.” Pai could have taken the man down easily, but the fool had done it all by himself and that had been far more entertaining to watch. “And I had the protection of a knight in shining armour— well, in skintight muscle tee…”

The corners of Sky's mouth tug upwards, and to Pai, it’s like a sunbeam breaking through storm clouds. Sunflowers come to mind. “It was a very skintight tee.”

“Hey!” The mock offence in his tone fizzles out because Pai’s too busy smiling, actually smiling because one, Sky’s smile is infectious and addictive, like everything else about him, and two, this is the first time Sky’s joked with him, and that deserves its own victory lap. “I can’t believe you were looking at other people on our date.”

The tautness returns to Sky’s mouth at that statement, but then it’s gone, banished, before Pai has the chance to notice it. “Dress better next time.”

“Maybe I will.” Pai has a skintight tee, or sixteen, somewhere in his closet. What? He was a vain idiot in college, like most everybody else.

“So? No ice cream?” Pai asks as they settle into the comfortable silence, broken only by the muted rush of traffic outside the car. He's fully aware that he's going to have to find a better lure, one suited to someone older than four years old. For now, though, the offer of dessert works.

Sky shakes his head. His hand hovers over the seatbelt buckle, but he seems to change his mind at the last minute.

“Take a left at the end of the road, drop me off outside that grey building.” He says instead. The grey building. Sky's building. The knowledge is better than any dessert Pai could have conjured up.

“Sky.” Pai calls out, just as Sky reaches for the door, once they’re parked outside his building. “I really had a great time today.”

With his seatbelt off, Sky hesitates for a moment, for just as long as it takes for a raindrop to meet scorched Earth, before reaching across to the steering wheel where Pai's hands rest.

It's brief, lighter than a butterfly's shadow, the way Sky's fingers graze Pai's knuckles.

It's almost illusory like a poorly-formed dream, but it sets Pai's nerves on fire.

Because Sky's reaching out, touching him of his own volition.

“See you Monday.”

And then, before he can react, return the gesture in kind, Sky’s gone.

***

It's a different brand of dread that keeps Sky up that night.

A sense of foreboding rooted in the fact that it’s all been good, that the good has outweighed the bad that day. By a lot. And considering that the bad involved a trip into his past, complete with quotes from his sadistic ex, that’s saying something.

It’s not lost on Sky, the fact that Pai has a part to play in all of this, the biggest part, if he’s being real.

And that is the problem.

Because he remembers this heady feeling, this rush of something that feels like a personal victory. But the sweetness has a bitter aftertaste, one that Sky remembers all too well: that the warm embraces can turn into death grips, the carefree smiles can morph into frigid sneers, it only takes one drink too many to turn love bites into permanent scars.

But Pai has the warmest smiles, and Pai has the most gentle touch, and Pai doesn’t care when Sky retreats like he’s being burnt, and Pai doesn’t want him to apologise, and Pai drinks tonic water and half-glasses of wine, and…

…and Sky likes him. More than he’s been willing to admit to himself. More than he ever liked Gun, and that makes it so much worse.

He’s too good to be true, and Sky’s terrified to find out what monster lurks beneath the sunshine and confident smiles, because there’s always a monster, lying in wait, biding its time before it rears its ugly head.

Please. Sky thinks back to the woman at the restaurant. Let me be as lucky as her.

Let it all fall apart before I fall too far in.

***

Sunday rolls in, overcast and threatening rain, and Pai decides that it is worth battling the weather to grant Ben his wish of running around the park. His son is in a good mood, happy to catch Pai up on the news at his preschool: there is a new friend called Two, a new goldfish in the aquarium called Goldie, and a new game that Ben tries to explain to Pai as they wait their turn at the slide.

“It’s okay, Pa.” His son pats his arm as Pai struggles to repeat the rules back to him. “You can’t play anyway.”

“Why not?”

His son kicks at a stray pebble before he answers. “Because you have to be friends with Goldie to play.”

Well, obviously.

They picnic under a sprawling tree, its knotted trunk serving as a mildly-uncomfortable backrest for Pai.

“Pa.” Ben asks over a juice box and sandwich, which he rests across Pai’s outstretched legs. “What’s a date? Aa Phan said Pa did a date.” He provides when Pai doesn’t answer right away.

His siblings and him are going to have a conversation about volume.

“A date…” Pai claws through the fog in his mind for the right set of words. “...is when grown-ups go to meet their friends.”

“Oh.” Ben considers this explanation as he nibbles at his straw. “A date is meeting friends. Like Aa Phayu?”

Rain would probably execute him if Pai tried to take Phayu out on a date, but sure, he’s been on several platonic dates with Phayu, mainly to the hardware shop and Phayu’s family’s garage, and the dive bar where they sometimes convene to drown their sorrows, although Phayu hasn’t had much to be sorrowful about lately, and if he thinks about it, neither has Pai.

“Yes, and sometimes you meet new friends.” He nods in agreement.

“Pa made new friends?” Pai catches a stray tomato as it breaks free of the sandwich in his son’s hands. He pops it in his mouth with an overexaggerated wink, which earns him a giggle from Ben and extra time to mull over his question.

In simple terms, Pa did make a new friend.

A very pretty, very smart, very hissy new friend.

A friend that he likes very, very much.

A friend that he likes more than a friend, but that’s a conversation for when Ben’s older.

The stray thought catastrophically derails his train of thought.

He’s just considered it again, hasn’t he? The idea of something long-term, something real enough that he might allow it past the walls he’s built around his son, around himself?

Speaking of walls…

He doesn’t know enough about Sky to speculate, doesn’t want to jump to conclusions or pry into Sky’s life when that door has not been opened for him, but as someone who has dealt with his own version of isolation, Pai recognises the sentiment in Sky’s faraway gaze.

Maybe that was what drew him to Sky that first night: not a familiarity in his features, but in his expression. It would make sense, because Pai doesn’t think he’d ever forget Sky’s face: the smooth skin; the honey-hued eyes that spring to life in the sun, bright and warm even when Sky’s glaring at him or frowning at an incoherent sketch submitted by a student; the way he gets dimples in the side of his face whenever he bares his teeth at Pai, which is usually to chastise him for taking his stationery (Sky likes his pink highlighter, and Pai makes it a point to steer clear of it, but everything else is fair game); the dark mop of hair that frames his face perfectly, even when it juts out at odd angles at the end of the day because Sky has a habit of sticking a pencil behind his ear; how warm and feather-light his fingers were when he reached out last night…

He can’t have forgotten Sky, and he certainly can't forget him now.

Sky’s in his life now and he’d like very much for him to stay. Long enough for Pai to decipher the reasons why he hesitates to reach out, why he disguises his smiles behind glowers, long enough to understand why Sky thinks he needs to apologise for doing something good. Long enough for Ben to get to know him.

“Yup.” Pai decides as he dusts bread crumbs off of Ben’s front. “Pa made a new friend.”

“New friends is good.” Ben nods sagely as he attacks the picnic basket for the watermelon that he made sure to pack.

“New friends is good.” Pai parrots his son. “C’mon, Little Monkey.” Pai kneels to gather their stuff just as the thunder finally announces itself overhead. “We’d better run or we’ll have to fight the rain.”

“Seahorse!” The Little Monkey in question throws his arms around Pai’s shoulders and latches on to his back, makes motorcycle noises in his ears as Pai, laden now with a wicker basket and a tote bag full of a stuffed elephant, a foam ball and a picture book, covers the short distance between their spot and the parking lot.

He’s going to be sore tomorrow, will probably whine about it to Namtan who will show him no sympathy.

And she shouldn’t — this has been one of the best weeks of Pai’s life.

***

Chapter Text

“What are we looking at?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is it a horse?”

“Maybe. It looks like a tree from where I’m standing.”

“Oh.” Rain frowns. “Switch places with me.”

Sky complies and squints at the frame on the wall from his new position. “Still looks like a tree.”

“It doesn’t look like anything to me.” Rain whines as the indecipherable blobs refuse to reveal their secrets to him.

“Is it supposed to look like something?”

“The label says it’s ‘a metaphor for existence’.” Rain closes one eye and squints at the frame one last time before giving up. “Maybe I’m just stupid.”

“Absolutely not.” Sky refutes. “This painting’s stupid.”

“The worst.” Rain scowls at the entire row of framed shapeless blobs that take up the entire wall in front of them. “It’s just a blob of paint, why is it trying to be something else?”

“Maybe that’s the metaphor.” Sky joins Rain on the bench and casts a final look at the painting — nope, still just paint.

“Don’t side with the painting, Ai Sky.” Rain fans himself with the exhibition catalogue. He points at a different frame, this one with a black diamond bordered with gold. “Do you think that one looks like P’Phayu?”

Sky checks his friend’s face to make sure it’s not a joke, but Rain’s expression is earnest. “Sure. I guess.” He supposes if he had to associate a shape with P’Phayu, it would be a rhombus. Rain leaps to his feet and goes over to read the label.

“It’s called ‘Secrets, Part 1 of 36 — they made 36 of these?” He turns to make a face at Sky. “Never mind.”

“You don’t think P’Phayu has secrets?” Maybe Rain’s immune to the aura that rolls off of P’Phayu’s person in waves and adds to his reputation as a creative genius.

“Like he might be… different from how he appears?”

Rain opens his mouth to answer, then thinks better of it.

“What?”

“Nothing.” But it isn’t nothing, because Rain’s fidgeting, folding the brochure into a paper plane.

“Rain.” Sky steals the brochure away from him as the first twinge of worry sets in, because Rain’s never this secretive about things, never this reluctant to answer questions about his boyfriend.

“I —” Rain looks over Sky’s shoulder to make sure it’s just the two of them. “ — he is different when…you know.” Rain punches into his palm, the tips of his ears redder than the framed blob behind him (Tomato in a Dream, mixed media.)

Oh. Oh.

“Ew! EW!” Sky shoves Rain. “Please don’t say — or do —- anything else.”

“You asked.” And for that, Sky will forever be sorry. “Anyway, he only wears the outfits I want him to–”

“Rain!” This time, Sky kicks.

“Ow, fine!” Rain glares at Sky through wounded eyes. “He’s not scary. I know he looks like it, with all the…black shirts and sexy hair.” Rain rushes to his boyfriend’s defense, ignoring Sky’s groan. “Just intense.”

It’s just his face, Sky remembers.

Still…

“You don’t worry he might…change? Hurt you?”

Rain looks at him like he does not know what Sky means, and that look of sheer cluelessness makes his heart swell with gratitude for Phayu.

“Hurt me, like, hit me?” He shakes his head as soon as Sky nods. “Absolutely not. He would never.”

“How do you know?”

Rain shrugs. “I just do. I know him.”

He’s so sure, Sky’s ashamed at the urge he feels to push the topic, to have Rain explain to him, how it is that he can be so certain of Phayu’s character, of how he doesn’t feel the need to wonder, to reinterpret his boyfriend’s smile seven different ways.“Okay, but how do you know?”

Rain looks at him for a long time before he attempts an answer. “I can just tell by being with him.” Rain shakes his head, like he’s trying to sift through his mental dictionary. He tries again.

“It’s like…you know how I cling to him?” Sky has a vague idea, yes. “I do it a lot. At home, on vacation, on the escalator at the mall, even at his firm’s events. I can’t help it, it’s just a habit, at this point.” Even now, Rain’s fingers graze Sky’s thigh; his friend expresses himself with touch, it’s just his way of interacting with the world. “I know it’s a lot, and I know it can be annoying, but he’s never pushed me away, never told me to rein it in. He just knows it’s who I am — he sees me— and I didn’t even have to show him.” Rain’s smiling now, no doubt conjuring up images of his P’Phayu in his mind. Sky feels like he should look away, give his friend his privacy, except Rain doesn’t care for privacy — his feelings for Phayu aren’t meant to be hidden away, they’re for the world to see. Rain turns to him again, his voice serious.

“He’s not going to hurt me, and if he does – then I’ll worry about it then. Right now, I just know he won’t.” Rain smiles at Sky. “Sorry it’s not a logical answer—”

“No,it’s not.” Sky agrees as he pats Rain’s hand where it rests on his thigh. “But it’s a good one.” A helpful one.

They sit and stare at rhombus Phayu for another moment before Sky asks his next question.

“Sky, is this about –”

“Want to get out of here and get a beer?” Sky interrupts, intent on steering the attention away from himself.

“Yes please. And satay.”

“Isn’t that what that painting by the door is called?”

“Nah, that one’s Gin– Kebab–Bloodbath’.”

***

It’s not a test. Sky tells himself. It’s not. Really.

And even if it is, it’s one for him, to see how he handles the things that to everyone else are just a way of life, a normal part a rel— of getting to know someone.

Sky decides to commit to, to see if Rain’s strategy gives him the clarity he’s been looking for.

After a full day of overthinking whether he’s being ridiculous or not, Sky decides to make a list, a very warped and unconventional to-do list.

Maybe seeing it written down on paper will make it seem like a perfectly acceptable plan of action, and not the product of a sleep-deprived mind that associates affection with the bitter taste of blood and tobacco, where every action is something to be wary of. He has to overcome that, because if he doesn’t…then this has to stop now.

Rain’s right, he has to assume the best, has to rewire the circuits in his mind to do the opposite of what they have been doing all this while, he has to try. He wants to try.

Half an hour later, Sky finalises the items on his list of little victories that he’d like to achieve for himself.

Some of the items are straightforward, like ‘try not to flinch around him’ and ‘try to smile back sometimes’. The others are trickier, like ‘try not to be suspicious’ — which is too general a statement, because suspicion is a default state of being for Sky — or, ‘don’t think about Gun’, as if Sky has any control over the way those thoughts paralyse him at the most inconvenient of times.

The back of his neck prickles, like he’s being observed and judged, here in his flat where he is the only living thing besides the areca palm by the window. Sky turns around, expecting a faceless intruder who might have snuck in specifically to laugh at him and his list. Sky’s eyes scan the room and come to rest on the armchair by his bookshelf. The green jacket is draped across its arm, where Sky left it that morning.

“What?” Sky hisses at the corner, to no response.

Great, he’s talking to inanimate objects. What a perfectly sane thing to do.

***

Lunch can’t come soon enough for Pai, who is eager to get away from the confines of his office, where there is nothing to look at but his computer screen and his roster of meetings. He’s got three back to back, right after lunch, so slipping out before the official hour for a much-needed caffeine boost is a reasonable decision. If he leaves now, a half hour earlier than usual, he won’t have to fight any first years for their table. Fighting is the word for it, he usually just smiles at them and thanks them profusely as he offers to pay for their drinks. He doesn’t mind – there is no limit to the number of cappuccinos Prapai would buy for the chance to spend lunch hour with Sky.

“What’s the rush?” His assistant foils his attempt at a stealthy gateway. “I could order you a coffee.” Namtan rests a hand across the doorframe, physically blocking his path to the lift. “Your father’s just returned from that meeting with the real estate firm, perhaps you should catch up with him over a working lunch. You do have that meeting together at three, it might help to be on the same page before that.”

“P’Tan…” Pai’s voice takes on a pleading tone, because ordering his assistant around never works, and Pai loves himself too much to open himself to a feral tigress attack, so he whines instead.

“Let him go, P’Tan.” Pai’s sister joins his assistant by the door. “He has a much more important meeting to get to right now.” She smiles, too brightly, at Pai. “I’ll take your three ‘o’ clock with Pa if you buy me lunch.” It’s a suspiciously good deal, but Pai doesn’t have the time to dissect it for potential catches. “Sure, anything. P’Tan, get her whatever she likes, please.” His assistant’s hand does not move from the doorframe.

“Please?” Pai says to the room at large, his eyes darting across to the wall clock over the reception desk. Twenty five minutes…

“It’s perfect weather for sushi.” Namtan stares coldly at him, waiting for him to catch on.

“Wha--? fine. P’Tan, Phan, order whatever you want, on my card.” They can order full course meals for the entire office if they want, if that’s what it takes. “Just — please.” He takes a tentative step forward.

His assistant steps aside with the grace of a black cat. Pai bolts past before she can change her mind.

“Get me an iced cappuccino on your way back!” His sister calls after him.

“I’ll have an iced americano.” Namtan adds to the coffee order.

They wait until the lift doors close on the desperate man, smirking as he checks his reflection in the mirror.

“Enjoy yourself?” Phan asks the assistant as they return to her desk.

“It’s going to be a long day.” Namtan flips open a file as she gets down to business again. “I needed a break.”

“And sushi.” Phan nods in approval. “Order me whatever you’re having, will you, P’Tan? I’d better start reading the paperwork for the three ‘o’ clock.”

“Noble of you to sacrifice your time for him.”

“Isn’t it?” Phan winks at her. “Make sure you tell him that.”

***

Pai makes it to the cafe with fifteen minutes to spare, only to find the table occupied, but despair gives way to jubilation when the occupant looks up at him. Pai bounds over.

“You’re early. Miss me?”

“Please.” Sky rolls his eyes at the idea. “I had a free period.”

“You should have texted me, I’d have come sooner!” Pai drops into his usual chair opposite Sky. His protests are interrupted by the barista who sets two cups down between them. “What’s this?”

Sky looks at him like he’s grown a second head, which he might have, if what he thinks is happening. He rushes to add to the question. “Is that for me?” He points with his chin at the iced americano topped with whipped cream.

“Do you see anyone else here?”

Pai doesn’t debate the question as he reaches eagerly for the coffee. “ You ordered me coffee.” He stares reverently at the tall glass like it’s a blessing from the Gods.

It may as well be.

“I’m paying you back. For last night.”

Well, that deflates Pai’s mood. He looks away from his drink, to Sky who is sipping his as he looks pointedly at his phone.

“You don’t have to pay me back.”

Prapai suspects that this is another one of Sky’s boundaries, that he doesn’t like to owe people, not even the price of a coffee at a student cafe. The man doesn’t even take slices of Pai’s croissants without compensating him with slivers of toast. But still, a casual lunch and a date are two very different things. “I wanted to go out with you.” He holds off on the thought that follows, before deciding that voicing it is worth the risk of being called a loud idiot. “If you really still want to, you can just take me out next time.”

Sky doesn’t answer right away, choosing instead to take a long sip of his drink and Pai braces himself for the rejection, for the assertion that there won’t be a next time.

After what seems like an eternity, Sky looks away from his cup and leans forward, Pai mirrors him, eager to hear him out.

“Are you saying you don’t want the coffee?”

“What? No!” Pai pulls the tall glass in towards him, before Sky can think to take it away. “This is the best coffee of my life, I won’t let you take it away.”

“You haven’t even tasted it.” Sky’s tone is stern, but Pai can see the smile fighting its way to his lips.

“Yeah, because it’s special.” He draws out the last word, revelling in the way the smile makes a brief appearance on Sky’s face before he smothers it. “Just like you.” The smile vanishes as Sky sighs wearily, refusing to meet Pai’s eye.

Oh, he’s so cute.

“Drama Queen.” He’s even cute when he’s hissing, how unfair. “Just drink it, before the cream collapses.”

“Why? Won’t you buy me another if it does?”

“No.”

“Fine.” Pai pouts before taking a sip. It’s sweeter than it usually is, maybe because Sky ordered it for him, because Sky’s been paying enough attention to know his coffee order.

“So.” Pai chances one last question, knowing he’s a hair’s length away from being kicked under the table. “Is this our second date?”

“You wish.” Sky snorts, and he’s right. “Now, quiet. I have to get this done by next period.”

“Whatever you say, Sky.” Pai should probably follow his cue and get to his own reading. He chooses instead to spend a little longer admiring Sky over his steadily melting tower of whipped cream.

His hair looks so soft and fluffy, but not as soft as his lips, so plump and pink, in spite of the fact that Sky’s been biting them all afternoon, which is something he does when he’s thinking.

Sky’s always thinking, Pai's noticed..

He would love to know what about, he wonders if he features in any of those thoughts.

His phone buzzes next to him.

Once. He ignores it.

Twice.

Thrice.

Four times. Sky looks up from his work and at him, the question apparent in the arch of his eyebrows.

“Sorry. Card notifications.” Pai rushes to silence the phone just as the fifth message comes in, letting him know that his sister’s just ordered enough sushi to feed all of Thailand for a week.

It’s worth every penny, if you ask Pai.

***

Sky makes sure the judgmental jacket is tucked away under his pillow before he takes stock of the day as he stares up at the ceiling of his bedroom.

He had bought Pai coffee, and Pai had looked at him like he’d made the sun shine again after a century of rain. It had been expected, but Pai’s reaction had made Sky’s day anyway. It had made him happy - that was good.

Pai had refused to let him pay for their dinner, and it should have bothered Sky, but then Pai had said something mundane which, to his surprise, had set a lightbulb off in Sky’s mind and stunned him enough to let Pai have his way, just this once.

Pai had said he’d wanted to go out with Sky, had hinted that he would like to do it again, whenever Sky felt like it.

The man said nice things about Sky at the drop of a hat, all of them too complimentary and dramatic to be genuine, and yet, Sky had believed him, enough to not push the subject of paying him back, enough to allow the thought of a second date to linger in his mind, and long enough for him to realise that he was not averse to the idea of planning said second date.

He wonders why that is.

The answer, obviously, is that it’s because Sky’s been going about it all wrong, exploring an uncharted land with a tattered map of a completely different continent to guide him — that’s not how it works.

It’s clearer now that he has Pai for comparison, the fact that none of those dates with Gun – if he can even call them that — had anything to do with Sky. It was never important what Sky wanted to do, or where he wanted to go. On the odd occasion when Gun did concede and agree to a movie or a day at the mall, the day would always end in Gun’s decaying office, with the man wielding the day over his head, using it as a weapon to subdue any more of Sky’s contrarian opinions. In Gun’s mind, the dates and the gifts had an exchange value, and Sky always owed Gun, no matter what he did, and it was a debt that grew and crushed him anew everyday, and there was nothing Sky could do to settle it all in one go.

Why are you whining about me texting Sara? I took you out today, haven’t you had enough attention?

Kiss me, baby. Or have you forgotten we did what you wanted to today?

You have some nerve, talking to me like that when I bought you all those clothes. Do you think anyone would even look at you in your ratty t-shirts? Everyone loves you because of me.

I watched your stupid movie, didn’t I? Come on, nice and easy, on your knees, I did what you wanted me to do.

You’re lucky Khun Korn likes your face. If I had my way…

Come on, baby, you owe me. Just make this delivery and if they ask you to hang out with them…remember to smile, okay?

You owe me.

He couldn’t say no to the gifts and the trips, because although Gun had made half-hearted attempts at disguising the fact, it had become obvious to Sky that even the most benign offerings were made not to please Sky, but to help Gun.

The clothes and jewellery were for the investors to admire and claw at.

The mall trips and movies were distractions so he could text his lovers on the side.

The parties — well, those were Gun’s place of work, his hunting ground for investors and other like-minded creeps, and really, Sky was the golden pass that got him in, because as it turned out, in addition to reducing human connection to a business transaction,Gun was just as proficient at cultivating and spreading rumours. About the softness of Sky’s lips, about the noises he made in bed, about the things he liked as a teenager still exploring what he liked, about what he might be convinced into doing if Gun allowed it.

Experience has taught him to be cautious, more suspicious about the underlying cost of things, and Sky stands by what he believes — that people can and do hold money over each other’s heads, and measure each other’s value in what they can and can’t give.

But there is a difference between caution and paranoia. Sky gets to be cautious, of course he does, as any reasonable adult should be, but he doesn’t deserve to live in a perpetual hell of distrust, seeking out ulterior motives in the most unselfish of actions.

He won’t do that to himself.

Gun had never wanted to do anything with Sky, he’d done them because he’d had no other choice, pretending he cared about Sky’s happiness had been another business decision for him, at the end of the day. Gun had wanted Sky, but in the way that a child wants the newest, shiniest, toy. The day Sky ‘allowed’ the attention to shift from him, to someone else, a beautiful model for instance, who was paid by the venue to do what Sky was forced to do for free, Sky would be tossed aside, ignored and scorned until they were alone again, when Gun would pin him against the wall and decide how to exact what he was owed.

On the good days, Sky got away with a slap and a warning to not embarrass him again.

On the bad days, which outnumbered the good by the end of it all, it would be so much worse. The physical punishments — Gun’s nails cutting into his face, his waist, his hips – Sky could handle; he’d found ways to wander out of his body when things got bad, hell, Sky had even learnt how to breathe through the cigarette burns that Gun insisted were a sign of his love, a reminder that Sky was his to have and do whatever with. That Sky didn’t just owe him, he was owned by him.

The physical scars are long-healed and faded, it’s the mental and emotional mess that Sky has to reckon with.

He’s put a decade’s worth of distance between himself and his life with Gun. He’s lived and learnt and grown more than he did in the four hundred and thirty two days that he spent with his monster of an ex, and yet…

And yet.

His first instinct, on that night with Pai, had been to defend himself, to prepare for battle, and later, to congratulate himself for having unmasked the man early enough, before Sky could get too attached, before he could be tricked into falling into the trap again.

Pai had surprised him.

By having the most even-toned, most expected response to the situation. The bare minimum. That’s how irretrievably broken his expectations from the world are, that hearing Pai agree with him had caused him to stay up all night panicking about what he would do if this ended up being something serious, something good.

It had been bad enough to have sent him to Rain, with questions that Rain had no chance of answering, because Rain didn’t have to deal with the machinations of a broken mind that painted phantoms into the sunniest of scenes. Rain had proven this point when he’d told him of how easily he trusted Phayu, how all it took was a hug for Rain to believe that he could trust Phayu with his life.

It feels too simplistic to be real.

But Rain is happy, and outside of the fact that Phayu literally sent his menace of a best friend Sky’s way, Sky believes that Rain’s assessment of Rain's boyfriend is accurate.

Maybe he needs to be more like Rain, to take a break from playing hide and seek with all the bad that may not even exist, and focus his attention on the goodness that he can see, right here, right now?

Can’t he do that for himself?

Can’t he do that for Pai? With an annoyed sigh, Sky rolls out of bed and returns to his desk where he flicks on his lamp and reaches for his list and adds two more challenges.

Don’t insist on owing him. Don’t look for ways to pay him back for the restaurant.

Because how would Sky be any different from Gun if he insisted on settling the score, on whittling everything down to how much it cost?

Believe that he’s good.

Just like Rain so easily believes P’Phayu. It can’t be that hard, right?

It’s not even the first time that he’s just put his faith in someone else because he chose to see them as good, his mind reminds him.

In a lobby, gentle fingers on his face, reassuring him that it was just ointment, that they didn’t have to go to hospital, that Sky could just stay. Rest…

***

Chapter Text

He’s running again.

Seriously, can’t he go one night without feeling his heart in his throat?

‘Come back here!’

Never. Sky’s never going back.

The city street in front of him is suddenly obscured by thick, rancid smoke, the traffic lights switch to a uniform shade of amber, an exact match to the end of a cigarette, the one that bites and burns and hurts.

‘Sky!’

‘Sky!’

He’s disorientated by the sound of his name as it echoes around him, a chant from every direction.

‘Sky!’ A third voice interrupts the cacophony as Sky picks up pace, clawing at the darkness around him, hoping he doesn’t hit a car.

‘You’re a waste!’

‘Go fuck yourself.’ Sky snarls in his head at dream Gun.

‘What did you say to me?’ The shadows behind him part to give way to Gun, tall and slimy, and cursed with pointy fangs in this iteration. The Gun in his dreams is also faster than Real Gun and he’s upon Sky in no time, clawing and scratching, his words sharp and piercing.

Nothing.

Without me,nothing.

Trash.

Waste of time.

Loser.

This is when he’d hit a car, or slip off an unexpected cliff that most definitely does not belong in the middle of a city street, or suffer some other painful fate, so that Dream Gun can gloat and laugh and mock him in the way he couldn’t in real life, because Sky had caught on sooner than Gun had expected him to, because Sky had been smarter than Gun had thought him to be.

That’s a…positive thought. Sky hasn’t had one of those sneak up into his nightmares before.

He slams into something solid, but softer than the cold metal of a vehicle. Sky extracts himself from the comfortable combination of soft fabric and body heat, forcing himself to look upwards.

He’s never been accosted by two Guns before…

Then again, his life is different now, his waking mind has been trying new things.

‘Do I know you from somewhere?’ The dazzling smile is sunshine in this world of smoke and fanged spectres, it dispels the shadows around Dream Gun and strips him of the danger he usually exudes. In this light, Gun almost looks human, oily-haired and slouching, someone Sky would ignore when he passed him on the street.

‘You sure we don’t know each other?’ His mind has done Dream Pai justice, he looks as perfect in Sky’s nightmare as he does in the real world. Sky blinks at him, unsure of how he got there. Like always, Pai is overdressed for this smokey city street.

His clothes are wrong, though. Sky can’t tell how, but something isn’t right.

The jacket.

What’s this colour called?

Sky’s hands travel upwards to the lapel, to the collar, the shoulders…

‘P’ Pa–’

“P’Pai?” Sky mumbles at the bright beam of sunshine that breaches his blackout curtains. Sky props himself onto his elbows and looks around his bedroom, before withering away in the morning light, leaving Sky to blink at his window, with swiftly-growing mortification as the final scene of the dream laps at his waking mind.

He didn’t…? Dream of…?

Did he?

Ridiculous.

Sky rolls out of bed and parts the curtains, letting the morning sun in to destroy the last specks of darkness.

It was just a dream. Just a weird dream.

Then realisation.

That, even though Gun was in it… it wasn’t a nightmare.

The sunlight paints his room golden as Sky shakes his head to dislodge the dream from his head. It’s a beautiful day and he’s not going to let Gun ruin it for him.

It feels like a day for something nice to happen.

***

“You’re in a good mood.”

“No, I’m not.”

“I don’t know.” Pai counters, leaning back in the white cafe chair so he can get a better look at Sky, who hasn’t paid him the slightest bit of attention since he sat down opposite him at their usual table. He holds up his hands, joining the thumbs together to form a frame around the man who has spent the past hour flipping through an architecture magazine, examining the photo spreads with admiration. Pai suspects that if it weren’t for the fact that they are in public, Sky would be cheering over some of the builds. He’s seen it happen, Phayu does it more often than he’d care to admit.

“You’re almost smiling.”

“No, I’m not.” Even as Sky says it, the sides of his mouth threaten to tug upwards and betray him. “Get your eyes checked.”

“Worried about my health?” Pai pushes his reading glasses further up his nose. “Don’t worry, I’m in perfect shape.”

“Except for your head.” Sky retorts as he turns the page. He doesn’t even look up as he lands the critical hit, Prapai realises he’s pouting for nothing.

Sky is brutal today.

Which means he really must be in a good mood.

“Fine.” Pai tries his best to inject a false note of hurt in his voice. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll just sit here with my broken eyes and my broken brain –”

“ – and your broken mouth.” Sky adds, swiftly, not a hint of malice in his voice.

“What’s wrong with my mouth?”

Sky puts the magazine down with a sigh and finally, finally deigns to look at Pai, who is quick to put on his most innocent face. The trick is to bat his lashes, not too fast, not too slow, but with intention.

His best ‘lost puppy’, Phan would call it.

Attention hog ,Plerng’s term for it is less flattering.

Either way, Pai hopes it’ll disarm the man opposite him enough to win him a smile, heck, he’ll settle for a smirk and an eye roll.

Sky studies the expression with a bored nonchalance, before dropping his gaze back to his reading.

“Noisy.” He proclaims. “You use it too much.”

“Fine.” Pai scrambles to get over his failed attempt at winning him over. “You can tell me how and when to use it.” The words slip out of their own accord, gauche version of the vocabulary he used in university to charm his way into people’s rooms. Watching Sky freeze in front of him, physically recoil as the words hit him, Pai wonders how it ever worked in the first place. Maybe they were just stupid in college, or too… sexually motivated to analyse the literary qualities of their flirting. Probably both.

“Forget it.” The magazine is returned to his satchel as Sky gets to his feet. “I’m leaving.”

“Sky! Wait!” Pai scrambles to his feet, rushes past the group of students that’s eyeing their newly-vacated table, but Sky’s light on his feet, and more accustomed to cutting through the university crowd. It is only when he pushes past the front door that Pai is able to fall into step behind him. “Sorry, I’ll shut up.”

Sky stops unexpectedly to let a group cross in front of him and Pai walks into him with all the grace of a drunken ox. Instinctively, he reaches out to stabilise himself and stop Sky from falling over. Sky turns in towards him in response to the abrupt change in momentum. Trapped in this contorted hug, this is the closest Pai has been to him. He’s close enough to catch the citrus scent of his striped cotton shirt, the peach of his hair, which up close, looks even softer than Pai had initially imagined it to be.

“Aren’t you going to let go?” Sky’s eyes are turned towards Pai’s grip on his forearm, which is a shame, because Pai’s certain that he’d be able to count the gold specks from this close.

“P’Pai...” His wish is granted as Sky looks up at him, bemused at his lack of comprehension at the warning in his tone. How unfair that he’s so breathtaking even at his most unimpressed.

Reluctantly, Pai lets his hand fall to his side.

“Right, sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Sky scoffs as he turns away, proving once again that he sees right through Pai.

Well, if they’re being honest…

“No, I’m not.” Pai agrees as he matches Sky’s pace. “Come on, I’ll walk you to your faculty.” Sky doesn’t react either way to this statement, which Pai chooses to interpret in his favour.

“You don’t know the way.”

“Of course I know the way.” Pai may or may not have the place starred on his navigation app, may or may not know that it takes Sky ten minutes to walk the distance to the coffee shop, which is why he has to be there even earlier so he can nab them their table. He knows things, he’s not as stupid as he might look, that’s just the effect a certain sharp-tongued man has on him sometimes.

Right now, the sharp-tongued man is looking at him like he’s dimmer than he’d previously thought, and Pai can’t see why, and then…

Sky fingers, slender and as captivating as the rest of him, fanned out towards him…

The gesture is a universal one, hardwired into the collective consciousness of every human that has ever lived in this world; there’s no way Pai can misinterpret it.

“You don’t know the way.” Sky repeats, giving him a second chance, and who knows if there will be a third.

Pai’ll take it.

“You’re right!” He declares, loud enough for the general public to hear, to help him sell the lie. “I might get lost.” He reaches for Sky’s hand, threads his fingers between Sky’s, until they’re firmly entwined with no space for anyone else. “And then you might have to put up a lot of ‘Missing’ posters,describing how handsome I am.” Pai prattles on with newfound confidence.

“Noisy.” Sky repeats the complaint as they cross the road, hand in hand.

“Yeah, you should put that on the poster too…”

***

It’s because it’s a beautiful day.

A day for nice things to happen. And the day has largely lived up to this expectation.

He had an excellent project presentation: every student passed and Sky couldn’t find one bad project. His students are doing well, and that’s good, because it means Sky’s on the right track.

The new Arch Digest came in the mail for him, with a surprise article on one of his favourite architects and a photograph of one of his own projects, and he gets to read it at his favourite table at the uni cafe, over freshly brewed coffee and a muffin he got as a free sample.

He even gets to call Pai noisy to his face and watch the man bat his eyelashes at him. He’s well-rested enough to deliver some incisive jibes.

It is a nice day.

And then Pai says something stupid about his mouth, and it conjures up a not-unpleasant image in Sky’s mind, and Sky has to play it off, pretend to be offended, get out of there before his face gives him away. The sun winks at him through the thick foliage as he hurries along the pavement, with Pai on his heels, and Sky slows down to allow the man to catch up to him, except Pai just barrels into him, trapping him in an impromptu hug.

It takes a minute of staring at Pai’s hand on his arm for it to sink in.

He has no impulse to flinch away.

It’s the opposite, actually, because even as Sky tells Pai to let go of him, he’s tempted to let the moment linger, to lean in, literally and figuratively, try a more confident version of what he tried in the car on the night of their first date. But that would be too nice, especially for right now, when they’re in public, with students everywhere. The loss of contact feels like it goes against the ethos of the day, and as nice as it is to have Pai next to him, apologising and offering to walk with him, Sky decides that it’s time to take matters into his own hands.

Gun hated it when Sky touched him, saying it ruined his clothes, the same ones that he left the tags on so he could return them after he was done using them to sell the lie of his opulence. Once, Sky had left a fingerprint on a leather jacket, a temporary indentation that Sky had taken care of with a damp cloth. Gun had brought it up every time they argued about something, when he was feeling exceptionally childish.

Well, Sky interrupts his train of thought with a shake of his head. Gun doesn’t get to hijack his day, he already promised himself that. Fuck Gun.

So Sky holds out his hand, hoping Pai will catch on.

The smile that breaks out on Pai’s face as he takes Sky’s hand easily outshines the sun above them.

***

The nice day turns into a nice week, and it is only partly because of the weather, which has been the perfect balance of warm and breezy, and devoid of the humidity that usually has Bangkok in its grips.

“Sky!”

Pai leans against the whitewashed wall outside the cafe, getting plaster all over the back of his red shirt, which stands out in the pool of denim and pastel t-shirts around him. He holds up a takeaway carrier and a paper bag. “The weather’s too nice to sit around indoors. Want to go for a walk?”

Sky has a folder full of assignments that he needs to go over before grade submission tomorrow, and it’s going to take every spare moment in his day to meet that deadline.

“Is that an iced coffee?” He arches an eyebrow in the direction of the lighter of the two beverages.

“It is.” Pai confirms as he holds it out to him. “With peppermint and vanilla. N’ Six said it was good.” Pai’s charmed his way into being on a first-name basis with the baristas.

“Hmm.” Sky takes the drink from him and turns in the direction of the closest public park. “There’s a food stall next to the park.”

“We’re eating?” Pai sidles up to him, his arm brushing against Sky’s as he sips his own drink.

“It’s lunchtime.” Sky rolls his eyes. “And I have to pay you back for the coffee.”

The corrections can wait, he has all night.

“You’re going to pay for my lunch?” Pai sounds like Sky’s just offered to steal him the Kohinoor. “So… is this our second date?”

“We’re eating 80 baht pad kra pao.” Sky is quick to bring him back to reality. “It’s not a fancy place.”

“So?” Pai counters. “It’s still going to be delicious, and it’s going to be with you. It’s a date.”

And who is Sky to counter that? If the man wants to ascribe meaning to sharing stir fry under a plastic umbrella, then that’s his problem.

“Sky?” Pai’s hand brushes against his, his pinkie hooks around Sky’s.

“What?” Sky makes a half-hearted attempt to pull away.

“Your hand.” Pai frowns as they stop in the middle of the pavement and Pai gingerly raises Sky’s hand to inspect it, his face the perfect picture of seriousness as he turns it over to admire it from all angles. “It looks heavy.” Pai declares in the cadence of a doctor pronouncing a diagnosis. “Can I hold it?”

One of these days, Sky is going to tell him that his pickup lines don’t work, right after he figures out why his heart just skipped a beat.

That’s a conversation for another day. Not today.

Sky sighs as he wraps his hand around Pai’s.

***

There is an emptiness to his weekends that wasn’t there before.

Sky doesn’t remember tackling the weekend like it’s a hurdle to be overcome, something to be endured, like the fading sting of a burn as it heals.

As much as Sky enjoys his work, he looks forward to the laziness of the weekends, to his schedule that consists of sprawling on the plush blue sofa that was his first purchase for the flat, and alternating between reading his way through his manga shelf and finally making it to the end of his watchlist. On a good weekend, Sky cooks and video calls his Pa and spends a good hour confirming that yes, he is eating well, and yes, he did catch up on sleep, and yes, he did remember to add disinfectant to the mop bucket that morning.

Today, the sofa is as comfortable as a jagged rock and the books as alluring as a clogged drain. With a groan, Sky rolls off the furniture and stretches out on the lemon-scented floor. The weekend is supposed to be restful, instead it just feels incomplete. It’s all too lazy, too stagnant, too silent.

Maybe Sky just needs an extra push to get into the rhythm of the day. He pushes himself into an upright position and fishes around for his phone so he can video call his father; a second voice might combat this fog of listlessness. The phone rings three times before his call is rejected. A text notification pops up on his screen.

Pa: At neighbourhood council meeting. Call you in the evening 👍

Sky stares at his phone with a sigh. The clock on his fridge tells him it’s nearing ten. Too soon to start prepping lunch.

What else can he do?

TV? No, Sky doesn’t have the attention span for it.

He could wash his linen…but then he’d have to admit that he’s become the kind of person who only has laundry to look forward to.

He could ask Rain if he wants to go out – no, Rain’s at that conference with P’Phayu.

Sky should have had the foresight to make more friends, preferably ones without partners and jam-packed weekend plans.

He could…

His finger hovers over the newest contact on his phone.

***

Chapter Text

The oversized dinosaur plushie flies through the air and smacks Plerng, who has just surfaced, disorientated and tripping over his own feet as he hikes up his pin striped pajamas so they’re less of a hazard.

“Aa Plerng is the last one up.” Ben declares solemnly as he runs over to collect his toy from where it lies dejectedly at his uncle’s feet. Plerng makes a clumsy attempt at trapping his nephew in his arms, but Ben is too quick for him as he sprints away with a jubilant squeal, thrilled at having beaten his favourite (and only) uncle at something, twice in a row.

“What a surprise.” His sister says, her tone devoid of the emotion in question as she butters her toast. Plerng shoots her a dirty look, then immediately regrets it as stars cloud his vision.

Never again. He won’t drink ever again. He’ll just be as boring as P’Pai with his single drinks and his absurdly tall glasses of tonic water and soda, and other transparent, tasteless concoctions.

“You’re just jealous.” Plerng flops down on his seat at the dining table and claws for the french press. “I heard someone got tired of the music and was home at eleven.”

“And now I’m going out to brunch, while you suffer through your hangover.”

“What’s a hangover?” Ben interjects as he leans across the table to get to the banana on its hanger.

“It’s a boo-boo you get from drinking too much… grape juice.” Phan scrambles to explain the concept to her nephew.

“...and potato water.” Plerng tries to help out as he pushes the fruit basket towards Ben. “Lots of potato water.”

“Oh.” Ben scrunches his nose as he peels the banana. “Yuck.”

“That’s right. Potato water is yuck. Don't ever drink it, okay?” In a rare instance, Plerng admits defeat with a groan.

Speaking of ‘yuck’...

“Where’s P’Pai?” Plerng casts a look around the table, just in case his eyes have malfunctioned and he’s missed seeing his brother, but there is no trace of P’Pai or his donkey face.

“He’s here somewhere.” His sister offers by way of explanation.

“Pa ran away.” Ben is only a little more helpful.

“Yeah. He did run.” She tips her mug towards him, like it’s some sort of encoded secret message that Plerng should understand. His head is too fuzzy for these high-level espionage tactics.

“Aa Plerng.” Ben tugs at his uncle’s sleeve, demanding his attention. “Will you colour with me after breakfast?”

“ ‘Course I will.” Plerng helps himself to a second mug of coffee. “Right after I finish my bitter bean water.”

“Gross!” Ben beams at the ghastly description as he wolfs down the last of his banana.

***

In the garden, under the shade of the cassia tree, Pai stares at his phone, at the red line of text that assures him that he hasn’t been hallucinating.

No, it’s right there, at the top of his call logs:

Sky– Missed call. Rang 04 secs.

So he didn’t just dream it up because he was thinking of Sky at the breakfast table, where someone had laid out danishes – probably the housekeeper, who knew how Plerng could be after a night out — and Pai had wondered how Sky felt about blueberry danishes.

Which had pulled him back into the black hole of wondering how Sky felt about him.

Sky had held his hand.

Sky had let him hold his hand.

He had let go as they’d gotten close to his faculty, but Pai could understand that, and him letting go didn’t negate the fact that Sky. Had. Held. His. Hand.

Pai is convinced that that is a big deal, a significant shift in the tempo of the dance they’ve been doing around a very obvious question. Sky’s not shy, that’s not how Pai would describe him, and Pai is good – excellent — at reading people, he makes a living off of it and his read on Sky is that the shadows that sometimes obscure the fire in his personality, are cast not by diffidence, but hesitation. Sky hesitates, not because he’s shy or unsure of himself, but because there’s something on his mind, and Sky’s mind is as accessible as a moss-ravaged crypt. A very pretty, very elegant moss-ravaged crypt, but one that Pai’s not allowed to venture into. Not yet.

But Sky had held his hand.

And now Sky had called him up, not long enough to make it past the first ring, but long enough to give Pai the opportunity to stick a foot in through a crack in Sky’s mind-crypt.

He’s going to need a better metaphor to describe Sky and his wonderful mind, but first…

“You called me.” It is a statement, not a question, delivered with a cadence that implies that Pai is pleased at the development.

Sky lets the silence weave itself into the static between them. “No, I didn’t.” Then, because Pai could easily refute this, he chases the denial with an explanation. “It was an accident.”

“Hmm.” Pai hums at the other end and Sky just knows the other man is smiling. “Or maybe you just wanted to talk to me.”

Sky scoffs at the suggestion. “I’m busy.” Sky glares up at the ceiling as he stretches out on the floor. What? This is busy for a weekend.

“What’re you doing?”

“Cleaning.” He’s sure his clothes are picking up dust on his floor.

“Were you cleaning when you accidentally called me?” He’s fishing, as if Sky can’t see through him.

“I was.” Sky agrees. “I was cleaning out my contacts.” There, let that be a lesson.

“Sky…” Pai draws out his name like it’s a wispy silken thread. “Are you saying you were going to…” There is a pause, for drama no doubt. “...delete me? You wouldn’t do that, to me.”

Sky shrugs, knowing full well that Pai can’t see him.

“Meanie.” Pai huffs.

“Drama Queen.” Sky shoots back, failing this time to keep his smile at bay.

“You’re smiling.” Pai’s tone is light, self-congratulatory.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are. I can tell from your tone–”

Sky hangs up before Pai can finish the thought; if he’s so attuned to reading Sky through the phone, he should have seen that coming.

His phone dings with a new message.

I knew you were going to do that.

“Please.” Sky gets to his feet, determined to do something better than stare at a message thread.

***

PAI
What’re you doing now?

SKY

What’s it to you

PAI
It looks like it might rain

you’re not outdoors, are you?

SKY

I’m reading.

It’s not going to rain.

PAI
On your day off?

It’s totally going to rain.

SKY

It’s not illegal to read for fun

You should try it sometimes.

PAI
I read!

I read Curious George last week

Have you heard of that one?

Sky?

Are you ignoring me again?

Is it because I’m not an intellectual?

SKY

……………………..

I’m reading.

PAI This qualifies as reading too.

SKY

My book is better

PAI
I knew it.

You don’t think I’m a scholar.

“Pa, catch!” The green dinosaur flies through the air and into Pai’s outstretched arms, just as he uses his other hand to hit send on his phone.

“How did you do that?” Plerng looks at him with envy — he’s been on the receiving end of several dinosaur smacks in the past hour that they’ve been in the living room together. His face is red from the number of times the stuffed animal has hit him there, his hands stained from the felt pens they used to write their names on their colouring pages, which lie in a neat pile on the table between them, ready to be appraised by Ben’s grandmother when she returns from her trust meeting at the museum.

“Dad reflexes.” Pai answers as he pockets his phone and throws the dino back at Ben, who turns it around, once again, on his uncle.

“Aa, catch!” Plerng catches the dinosaur by its tail and dangles it over his head, inviting his nephew to climb all over him in an attempt to extract it from his hands as he continues the conversation. “You’ve been on your phone all day.”

“I have not.” Even as he says it, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Pai ignores it for the time being, he can’t have Plerng telling him ‘I told you so’.

“Is it Cafe Guy – ha! Nice try, Benny!” He shifts the stuffed toy to his other hand before Ben can tug at the tail. “It is, isn’t it? Are you —”

“None of your business.” His phone buzzes for his attention again. This time, Pai reaches for it.

SKY

Obviously.

“You’re smiling.” Plerng squeaks as Ben uses his face as a handhold to free the dinosaur from his clutches.

“And you’re not minding your business.” Pai watches with some satisfaction as his son turns his brother’s perfectly set hair into a tangled nest. Ben dismounts from his uncle’s lap and makes a beeline for his father and chooses to treat him as his next climbing wall. The two brothers continue to stare each other down, with Pai maintaining the upper hand even as Ben elbows him in his side.

“Fine. I don’t care.” Plerng brings the staredown to an end with a shrug. “What’re we doing for dinner?”

Oh, that’s a good question. Pai types out a similar message to Sky,

***

Pai’s prediction comes true, Sky wakes up on Sunday to the pitter patter of raindrops on his window and a gloating text from Pai.

P’PAI

See.

I told you it would rain.

You’d think the man had summoned the clouds himself. Sky texts back an appropriate response.

Congrats, you know how to look at the weather app.

He leaves his phone next to his pillow and relocates to the kitchen where the kettle and the coffee are. This is a day designed for fuzzy blankets and being useless on the sofa, and that Sky decides is what he’s going to do. He returns to his bedroom to procure his blanket and his phone, and finds a photograph waiting for him: a cassia tree against a grey sky, its yellow blossoms drowning in puddles around it.

It is followed by a text message.

P’PAI

My view.

It’s inane and inconsequential, one of many thousands of photos that are bouncing in and out of people’s chats, because everyone loves to share photos of a rainy day. Rain’s probably sent him one too, if it’s raining where he is.

Sky zooms in anyway, examining the branches on the tree, the flowers on the ground, the way the puddles reflect the foliage and throw flecks of green light about the scene. It looks like a garden, and Sky wonders if Pai is out in it, feeling the raindrops on his face, or if, like Sky, he’s just been admiring the view from his window. What does Pai do on the weekends anyway? Sky wonders if he’s a late-riser, an advocate for lazing around and celebrating the uselessness, or if he’s like one of those ‘seize the day’ types, up at the crack of dawn and rushing through the day like a bullet train. Sky searches the pixels on his screen for an answer, but there is nothing there: the tree gives nothing away. Outside, the rain grows more persistent, more insistent that Sky cancel any plans that he may have had of venturing outdoors. His phone buzzes again.

P’PAI

It’s raining harder.

The man must really think Sky can’t tell his weather conditions apart. Sky pulls up his phone camera, determined to put an end to the misconception.

***

Pai can barely see, his wet hair pokes him in his eyes and drips water onto the phone in his hand, as he zooms in on the photo from Sky, attached to what Pai chooses to interpret as a compliment.

SKY

Astute. You should be a weatherman.

Sky’s prickliness makes him laugh out loud; there’s something about the thorns that are Sky’s words, that makes Pai want to try harder to see what flowers they protect.

The photograph is a clue of sorts, a glimpse into the world Sky guards so fiercely. A shot of a rain-streaked window, the exterior obscured by the green curtains – Sky’s favourite colour, Pai remembers — the edge of a wooden desk peeks into frame, its surface taken over by a stack of books and a pen stand. A potted palm flanks the other side of the window and Pai wonders if Sky picked the plant up for himself, or if it was a gift. He has similar questions for the other objects in Sky’s frame — is the desk an heirloom? What book is he reading? What else does he like to do on a weekend? What does his window look out to — does it face the road that Pai drives him to or does it look out to the other side which faces an overgrown plot of land? Does he have a balcony? Does he have more plants? Does he like plants, and is there one Pai could get him as a gift? How high up is he? Is he afraid of heights, and if he’s not afraid of heights, what is he afraid of? What holds him back? What keeps him going?

His questions run into the thousands when it comes to Sky. Maybe one day he’ll have answers to the more important ones. Until then, Pai contents himself with flooding Sky’s inbox with the more mundane ones, the ones he knows will make Sky roll his eyes and question Pai’s sanity.

“He’s lost his mind.” Phan declares to the empty living room as she sips her coffee in front of the french windows that lead out to the garden, where her brother’s been standing in the rain for the better part of fifteen minutes now, smiling at his phone and oblivious to the fact that he’s got an audience judging his choice of Sunday morning activity.

“Is that your brother under the tree?” Their mother joins her by the window, her expression nearly identical to the one her daughter wears. “He’s going to fall sick.”

They watch as Pai pushes his hair off his face so he can take a selfie. And then another, from a different, more flattering angle.

“Too late.” Phan holds up her phone so she can take a photograph of the scene, for future blackmail purposes. “He’s already too far gone.”

***

Chapter Text

Monday.

Sky walks from his faculty to the cafe while Rain catches him up to what he claims is the worst day of his life.

“Can you believe it?” The outrage seeps through the phone. “ They had the audacity to stare at each other, and then he…” Rain lowers his voice to a hiss. “...smiled at P’Phayu! And P’Phayu —” Rain takes a moment to inhale, gathering the last of his resolve to complete the story. “ — smiled back!”

The silence is where Sky is supposed to speak and echo his friend’s sentiments. Sky slows his pace as he chooses his words.

“Rain.”

“Yeah?”

It’s a good thing they’re not having this conversation in person, he has no doubt that Rain would try and throttle him for what he’s about to say. “Is it possible…”

Rain hums, inviting him to go on. “...that the waiter was just smiling at P’Phayu because it’s his job to be nice to the customer?”

“Are you saying I’m overreacting?”

“Not at all.” Sky rushes to uproot the misunderstanding. “I think you might just be, you know, jealous.”

“J– Jealous!? Of what?”

Sky doesn’t answer, letting Rain work it through himself.

“You think I’m jealous because an insanely attractive waiter smiled with P’Phayu and held his hand —”

“Held his hand?” This is news to Sky, and it would change things.

“Their fingers brushed when he handed Phi the menu, it’s the same thing. You think I’m just being jealous?”

Well, yes.

Sky’s not going to say that though, for his own safety. He focuses on the other side of the coin instead.

“Rain.” He interrupts his friend just as he’s midway through a description of just how gooey the waiter’s eyes were when they looked upon the vision that was P’Phayu. “You do know, right? That P’Phayu loves you, and it doesn’t matter how people look at him, he’s only got eyes for you.”

Rain hmphs at this, but Sky knows the sound is one of acquiescence, because even at his angriest, Rain can’t help but see the best in Phayu. “P’Phayu does say I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to him.”

“Well, you should believe him then.” Sky crosses the road at the traffic light, grazing shoulders with one of the pedestrians crossing onto the other side. He turns cursorily to wave a hand in apology —

— the stranger nods at him, brushes him off , except —

Sky knows that face.

A friend.

Not his.

The man is on the opposite side now, carrying on his way while Sky stands rooted to his spot, oblivious to the blinking green man that’s doing its frantic best to get him to move, to cross over before the light changes.

Petch.

His name is Petch.

Sky thought he was nice, one of Gun’s nicer friends, one of the few that Gun didn’t mind Sky talking to, and so Sky had always thought of him as one of the safe ones. P’Petch had been pleasant, had asked him questions about his life, his hobbies, had even admitted, at multiple “investor parties” that he hated all the same people that Sky did. Sky had enjoyed P’Petch’s company, had trusted him enough to let him guard Sky’s drink when he went to the loo, or when Gun dragged him away for a quickie because he needed to blow off some steam before cornering one of the newer ‘trustees’.

Petch had been safe, until that night…

The night Sky had had enough.

In a way, he has Petch to thank for helping him get away. If Sky hadn’t snuck out of their regular haunt through the back door that Petch had shown him once, he never would have overheard the conversation between him and Gun.

He never would have discovered that Petch disguised a hornet’s sting beneath that saccharine-sweet exterior. If it hadn’t been for Petch, Sky never would have found out about the Deal.

The Deal between Gun and his investor friends, a deal that Petch wanted in on, that Gun said he could do if he stepped in to record when it was Gun’s turn.

‘I want a go at him after Khun Korn is done. You can have him after I’m done.’

Sky had recognised the voices through the haze of cigarette smoke.

‘Should we get condoms?’

‘No condoms. It’s part of the agreement.’

‘I’ll ask around and see if anyone else wants in. 40,000 a go?’

‘Make it 80. I bet Khun Ted will agree to a hundred, the way he was looking at him tonight. Can you slip something in his drink again? It’ll be easier to move him when he’s not crying at me about love and respect and all that nonsense.’

‘C’mon, he’s pretty when he’s whining.’ Petch had stomped out his cigarette and Gun had followed suit.

‘He does have a pretty mouth. It’s the best thing about him.’

‘Can I fuck it tonight?’

‘Depends. Do you even have five thousand?’

Then they had laughed.

Sky had ducked behind a wall just as his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s best friend had become visible through the smoke, and made their way back inside. He’d thrown up, careful not to get it on his clothes because Gun had to return them in the morning.

Gun had made a deal, and Petch had helped him set it up.

And Sky was an integral part of it.

Gun had made a deal at Sky’s expense, and Gun would kill him if Sky turned him down.

No, he wouldn’t do it himself, he’d make Petch do it, and Sky no longer thought of the man as being incapable of causing harm.

Again. They’d said they’d slip something into his drink again.

What had they done to him without his knowledge?

Sky had thought of all the times he’d woken up staring at Gun’s cracked ceiling, his hands still tied to the headboard, left alone while Gun went traipsing around town. Sky never let him tie him tight enough, always left space between his hands so he could slide out of his bonds when Gun did leave him like this. Gun never even noticed — what Sky did after Gun had had his fill of him had never been of any significance.

Had they – had they done this before?

The thought had made him heave again, but there had been nothing left in Sky to expel. He’d collapsed against the wall, his shoulder grazing the mortar wall. It would leave a scratch, rip a seam, piss off Gun.

But maybe not as much as what Sky had decided to do next.

“...Sky? You there? Sky?” Rain’s voice in his ear, drowned out by the blaring of car horns. Sky rushes off the road and onto the pavement, taking a moment to get his voice back before he responds to Rain.

“I’m fine.” He casts a look towards the other side of the road, but Petch is gone. He couldn’t have seen him, Sky’s sure he didn’t recognise him.

It’s fine.

“You sure? Why is it so noisy?”

“Huh?” Sky realises he’s walking in the wrong direction and turns around, nearly barreling into a group of students.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just walking. Listen, Rain, I’ll call you later, okay?”

He needs a moment. Just long enough to breathe and get ahold of his heart.

It’s alright.

It’s okay.

***

Sky’s sweaty when he joins Pai at their table ten minutes after he usually does.

“Hi.” Pai disguises his scrutiny of Sky’s face behind a smile.

“Hi.” Sky doesn’t look at him, as he slams a spiral notebook down on the table.

Weird.

Pai drops all pretense of casually admiring the man opposite him, and leans forward so he can actually look at him, blatantly, shamelessly. Sky’s beautiful, which is nothing new, there’s nothing outwardly different with him, other than the way his hair sticks to his forehead. Pai can blame that on the humidity.

He looks fine, his usual self, snappy and uninterested in looking at Pai, like he was that first week when he found Pai waiting for him.

“Stop staring at me.” Sky grumbles as he turns the page.

“I wasn’t staring.” Pai leans back into the chair. “I was admiring you.”

If he were in a good mood, Sky would have scoffed at that.

Sky doesn’t scoff, doesn’t even look up.

“How was your weekend?” Pai tries a different track.

It works. Sky looks up at him, his gaze unwavering, weighed down by a stoniness that Pai’s not seen in his eyes before, like Sky’s purposely put up a wall to obscure Pai’s view of what’s on the other side.

“As if you don’t know.”

“Well.” Pai shrugs. “I do have an inkling.”

This does make Sky scoff, and Pai will take that as a win, thank you very much.

Sky’s right; Pai did make it his mission to find out what Sky did every hour of the weekend, and Sky had cooperated by answering him, sometimes with a follow-up question attached.

“I sent you a photo.” Sky had seen the selfie he’d sent over, but aggravatingly, had left Prapai on read, ignoring every message after that, save for the one Pai had sent at dinnertime, asking Sky if he’d eaten.

That message had received a terse ‘Yes. I’m going to bed now.’

Which had been a nice way of telling Pai to shut up.

“I saw.” Sky’s voice is indifferent. “I deleted it.”

“You didn’t!” Pai gasps. Maybe it wasn’t the best photo he’s ever taken, his hair was in his eyes and his skin drenched to the bone, but it wasn’t deleting material. It was…okay. Pai had hoped it would make Sky laugh, Pai had even agreed that he would make an excellent weatherman.

And Sky had deleted it.

Allegedly.

“I don’t believe you.” Pai counters through narrowed eyes. “You wouldn’t do that to me.”

Sky sighs as he drops his pen and leans towards Pai, his voice serious, cautionary.

“You don’t know me at all, then.”

That’s…different, a deviation from Sky’s usual pattern of reprimanding Pai, which usually making jabs at Pai’s expense. This time, it’s like Sky’s turned the attention to himself, and the quip feels heavier, more loaded.

“Sky. What’s going on?” Pai reaches for the man’s hand, but Sky’s too quick for him as he slides it out of reach.

“Nothing. Let me work.”

Maybe Sky really didn’t like the photo.

There’s nothing to do but comply with the order. Pai returns to his tab.

***

You don’t know me at all.

The words sting even as Sky says them, dig deeper into his skin when he realises that Pai’s noticed the bite to them, that it affects him. And yet, all Sky can do is dig his heels in deeper when Pai tries to ask him if everything’s okay.

He’s horrible. He should apologise and make up for it, assure the man that it’s not about him, that Sky’s just in his head, trying to swim through the memories that are threatening to pull him under. He just needs to get to the other side, needs to break the surface and find a way out to the nicer memories that inhabit his mind. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before. He just needs to think, remind himself of how everything’s fine, how it’s all the way it’s meant to be, now that he’s away.

Happy thoughts, think happy thoughts.

The man opposite him, so focused on his work, so self-assured and cheerful, so breathtaking in that selfie he’d sent Sky, his skin painted with the rain, his hair falling into his eyes. He’d looked like an idiot, someone vying for a cold, but he’d looked so happy, and it had made Sky smile, made his own heart soar. He’d stared at the photo for longer than he would admit to Pai, had wondered if he should reciprocate with a similar photo, a selfie of him wrapped up in his blanket on his sofa, balancing a mug of hot chocolate in his lap, showing Pai what he was doing in that moment. He was sure Pai expected him to do just that, it was the most logical answer to their back and forth of their weekend.

Sky just couldn’t do it. It felt too much like letting Pai into a part of his life Sky wasn’t ready to share just yet.

A selfie. He couldn’t even send Pai a damn selfie.

And now he can’t apologise and smooth things over.

What the hell is wrong with him?

The answer is Gun, of course. More the fact that he met Gun, that he let Gun rip into him and destroy the pieces of him that Sky needs now to be happy, to be kind, to be human, to be brave, because he’s being a coward right now, blaming all this on Gun, when really it’s on him, on the fact that he should have known better. He was seventeen, he should have seen the executioner’s axe for what it was, he doesn’t get to complain about the blade slicing through his neck when he’s the one who put it on the chopping block and invited the executioner to do his best.

Sky shakes his head to dispel the murkiness in his head. Not now. He can worry about this tonight.

“Khun.” Six, the barista stops by their table, happily returning the smile that Pai directs at her. Sky manages a nod as he struggles with the tightness in his throat. “I don’t usually do this.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. “But I had some very persuasive customers.They said to hand this over once they’d left.” She places a folded piece of paper between them, which Pai takes from her, an eyebrow raised in curiosity. The barista retreats with an apologetic bow.

Pai meets Sky’s eye, an expectant look on his face, like he’s waiting for permission.

Sky shrugs.

Pai unfolds the sticky note, looks over the contents with a mildly interested look.

“It’s a phone number.” He says finally. “Surrounded by a heart.” He holds up the piece of paper for Sky to look at. “I think they expect a call back.” He frowns, like it bothers him, like he hasn’t had the whole cafe swooning over him at some point or the other. It’s like he’s being obtuse on purpose and Sky has no patience for this.

“You should call them.” He snaps, before forcing himself to look at his notes and nothing else.

Pai hmms at the suggestion before dismissing it with a shrug. “Or.” He holds up a finger. “You could just come sit next to me.”

“Why would I do that?” Sky has no plans to share his personal space with Pai, to graze shoulders with the man and give him an opportunity to wrap an arm around Sky’s shoulder. “You’re all sweaty in your suit.”

“Am I?” Pai sniffs at his shoulder. “It doesn’t matter, it’s not important right now. You should really come sit next to me.” He says it with the urgency of a doctor declaring the need for surgery.

“I’m not going to.” If anything, Sky decides it’s wiser to pull his work closer to him, to sit farther away from the man so he doesn’t have to witness people trying to get his attention.

“Skyyy…” Pai stretches out the syllables in his name in an attempt to be convincing. Sky stands his ground, refusing to give in.

“You should try that tone on someone else.”

“Should I?” Pai deflates with a sigh. “It wouldn’t bother you?”

“No.” Sky says through gritted teeth, glaring at the note that Pai’s dropped onto the table now. From where he’s sitting, the heart is badly drawn, one side curvier than the other; Sky would fail any student that turned in a project with that kind of asymmetry.

“Not even a little?”

“I don’t care.”

“But I do.” Pai is insistent. “It bothers me. So –” He pats the chair next to him. “You should come sit next to me. Please.”

He has the audacity to beg, to add to the guilt Sky’s already feeling towards him, and Sky can’t handle that right now, can’t bear another cross with Pai’s name on it. But Pai should know better too. It’s his own damn fault for looking like he does, for smiling like he’s competing with the sun, for being so damn… likeable that Sky has to fend people off of him.

Reluctantly, Sky changes seats, but only after he’s dragged the seat next to Pai out a few more inches away from him. Pai sighs in relief next to him. “This is better.”

“I’m glad.” Sky retorts before he can stop himself. “You can have a clear view of the cafe now, give your admirers what they want.”

“No thanks.” Pai winks at him, a telltale glint in his eyes. “I’ll tell them I already have a boyfriend.”

Sky’s pulse stutters underneath his skin. Boyfriend. A part of him panics at the word, hoping that Pai’s using it for someone else — an elusive boyfriend that Sky’s never met, but then that thought, as illogical as it is, is worse, and Sky hates – hates the idea that Pai would refer to anyone else in that manner. Of course Pai doesn’t have an imaginary boyfriend, the term is obviously meant for him, and yet, his first instinct, like everything else with Pai, is denial.

“They’ll know you’re a liar.” Sky forces himself to look down at his notebook where he’s written all of one sentence all afternoon. He lifts his pen to remedy this, only to have his hand engulfed by Pai’s. His grip is gentle, Sky could easily slip his hand away, but then Pai squeezes, lightly, requesting Sky’s attention.

With no way out, Sky gives in.

“Fine.” Pai smiles at him, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his full face lights up. For the whole cafe to see. “I’ll just pretend then, so they know there’s no point.”

Sky doubts this very much, knows from experience that that’s not how it works, Sky’s presence has never been a deterrent, maybe Pai’s never been sidelined before — Sky can see how he wouldn’t be — but that’s not how it works for Sky. The conversation with Rain flits into his consciousness. Didn’t he tell Rain that it didn’t matter what other people did?

Could it apply to them as well?

“I’m going to tell N’Six.” Pai says, loud enough for just the two of them. “To throw away any future notes. I can’t risk it.” He shakes his head. “No one’s allowed to ask you out.”

“No one’s asking me out.” Sky slides his hand out of Pai’s hold, annoyed at this new attempt to gloat. Is that what he wants? A reaction from Sky so he can barter it for something else?

No one’s asking you out, so you should rein it in.

No one’s asking me out, so I should try my best with you.

He has a feeling he’s mixing up Gun and Pai.

Gun never called Sky his boyfriend.

“Uh…” Pai frowns at him as he tilts his head in the direction of the note.

“What?” Sky blinks at the note, once, then twice, just to clear the haze, then back at Pai. “That’s not for me.”

“Yeah, it is!” Pai smoothes out the note so Sky can see it in its entirety. “Look. It’s addressed to ‘Mr. Pretty Eyes’.”

Sky scoffs at this second, blatant attempt to fish for a compliment. “Do you want me to clap for you, Mr. Pretty Eyes?” Is that it? An attempt to get Sky to say that he should be thankful, grateful to have his attention?

No, Pai wouldn’t do that, he’s thinking of Gun again.

The aforementioned pretty eyes widen as Pai stares at him like he’s had a circuit fizzle out in his brain. “It’s for you. Obviously.” He finally manages, his voice breathy and unsteady as his brain lags mid-thought. “Wait…”

Oh no.

“Wait.” Pai reiterates, with more force. “Waiiit — you think I have pretty eyes?”

“No.” Sky’s voice is too shaky for it to be believable, his face on fire as he snaps his neck away from Pai and looks anywhere else.

“You think I have pretty eyes.” If Pai wasn’t gloating before, he is now.

“I don’t.” Sky is insistent. “I think you have hideous eyes. Cockroach-coloured, stupid…wonky.”

Mr. Pretty Eyes. Pai thinks he has pretty eyes. Him?

Unbeknownst to him, Sky’s gaze softens and his shoulders relax as Pai mumbles happy nonsense next to him. Pai notices the transition and ups the ante on the nonsense that he knows will earn him eye rolls and scoffs, and if he’s lucky, a secretive smile.

“Is that how I’m saved in your contacts? Mr. Pretty Eyes?”

That earns him a prized scoff. “I’m going to block you.”

“That’s not a no.” Pai hums, moving his elbow towards him, just in case Sky is inclined to swat at him. He looks like he would like to.

“Go away.” Sky grumbles. “Noisy.”

Which reminds him.

“I won’t see you tomorrow.” Pai had practically begged Namtan to reschedule, but there had been too many moving parts, too many people and complicated schedules involved. “I have an all-day meeting.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” Pai pushes, knowing full well he’s on a tightrope right now and Sky could easily sever one end and send him plummeting.

“Yeah. Good.” Sky nods. “You hog all the space.”

He does not! He’s kept his distance, hasn’t even held Sky’s hand as long as he’d like to, because he knows Sky doesn’t like to be overt about the fact that they’re there together.

“Fine.” Pai huffs. “Maybe you should text that number and ask them to hang out with you instead.” He pushes the piece of paper towards Sky.

To his utter disbelief, Sky pockets the paper. “Maybe I will.”

“You wouldn’t.” Would he? Is Pai not on the solid ground he thought they were on? Is it because he sent him a selfie? “You wouldn’t do that to me. Look into my pretty eyes and promise me —”

“P’Pai.” Sky interrupts him with a glare, his mouth set in a thin line: his stoic professor face, Pai calls this particular look.

Pai guesses his next words. “Shut up?”

Sky nods. “And get me a coffee.” He adds as an afterthought.

And that actually shorts Pai’s brain, wipes the smile off his face. He has to ask, just to confirm he heard right. “You…want me to buy you a coffee?”

“Don’t if you don’t want to.” Sky shrugs, unaware of the effect that one movement has on Pai.

“No!” Pai scrambles to his feet. “I’m buying you coffee. Stay there!”

Sky watches him weave through the tables and towards the counter. It’s only when Pai’s back is turned that Sky allows the smile to work its way across his face.

It’s fine.

They’re fine.

And whatever’s not, whatever hang-ups he has because of all the mess in his past, well, Sky’s going to try his best to make it fine.

Right now, he’s going to admire his… maybe boyfriend as he buys him coffee, and try and work up the courage to see if that word could apply to him at all.

He should add that to the List.

***

Sky thinks he has pretty eyes.

Pai runs the thought through his head one last time as he stretches out in bed, his bare chest still damp from the shower. The man with the most beautiful eyes in the universe thinks he, Prapai, has pretty eyes.

It’s a high he didn’t expect, didn’t think he would crave this kind of validation from Sky, but now the floodgates have opened, and Pai doesn’t think he could go one day without Sky telling him he likes something about him. Pai’s used to sifting through the snarky jibes and finding the compliments hidden in their midst.

When Sky calls him noisy, it means Sky’s put his work on pause to listen to him.

When Sky tells him he’s sweaty and obnoxious, it means he’s paid attention to what Pai’s wearing.

When Sky thinks Pai’s an idiot with no directional awareness, it’s because he wants to hold Pai’s hand.

When Sky thinks Mr. Pretty Eyes is a name for him, it means he thinks Pai has pretty eyes.

This explicit admission, coupled with the fact that Sky asked Pai to buy him a drink, the whole thing has a euphoric headiness to it that Pai wasn’t prepared for.

Tomorrow, after the meeting and the courts and everything else, Pai’s going to try and figure out how to reciprocate, how to let Sky know just how much he adores the man, how genuine he is in his belief that Sky has the prettiest eyes, that Sky is possibly the best person he’s ever known, because it feels like, despite the abundance of evidence in his favour, Sky doesn’t believe him.

And maybe, after Pai's managed to earn Sky's trust, the man will agree to being referred to as his boyfriend without flinching away, and Pai won't have to restrict that term to his inner monologue.

Boyfriend. It doesn't quite do his feelings for Sky justice, but for now... he'll think of it as a baby step.

His phone rings on the bedside table and Pai grabs at it, hopeful that it might be Sky.

It’s Phayu. He gets right to business.

“The garage. How soon can you get here?”

***

Chapter Text

“You renovated.” Pai casts a look around the garage as he tosses his helmet onto the nearest table. The garage is the same as it’s always been, but Phayu doesn’t bother correcting him as he joins him at the long workstation where Phayu is putting away his toolbox.

“You brought the bike.” He wipes his hands on a rag before he walks around to join Pai at the sofa, stained with its own pattern of irregular polka dots, all thanks to his brother’s tendency to spill every cup of coffee he drinks during his midday break.

“You said to hurry. The car would’ve gotten stuck in traffic.” Pai scratches the side of his jaw as his eyes dart to the store room at the far end of the room.

“Well, I don’t have him tied up in the back.”

“No? I wish you did.” Pai slumps back in his seat with a tired sigh. Phayu doesn’t disagree, Stop’s had it coming ever since they've had the misfortune of knowing him. “So, why am I here if not to beat the daylights out of my brother-in-law?”

“We’re watching TV.” Phayu reaches for the remote and switches on the flatscreen ensconced into the wall opposite them. “A friend sent over a home movie.”

“Wha–?” Pai quietens down as the CCTV footage plays.

A car pulls up outside a garage, not this one. The driver parks sloppily, pushes the door open before the car’s even come to a full stop. Despite the black and white grain, it’s obvious that the driver’s dressed in a shirt of some sort of flouncy, shimmery material, and that he’s missing a shoe.

“Late night out?” Pai scowls at the footage as they watch him stumble through the glass door.

“Looks like he ran up a bill high enough to have to sell his car. And one shoe.”

“That heap of junk wouldn’t cover a half pint.” The dent on the black sedan looks deeper than it did the last time, and that’s probably because it is; Stop’s talents know no bounds.

“He tried to demand an extra five thousand on the buying price, but shut up pretty quickly when Tim told him he could take the car elsewhere if he didn’t like his price. Wanted it all in cash too. Said he was skipping town.” Phayu narrates the account he was given by his friend at a different garage.

The two exchange a look as Stop ambles out of frame.

“It’s too good to be true.” Phayu voices what they’re both thinking. “He didn’t sell his car to buy a bus ticket.”

“But he did need to sell it, which means…he’s not rolling in dough.” Pai rewinds the footage until they have a frame of Stop waving at someone inside the shop. “Do those clothes look brand new to you? He’s definitely better dressed than he was when he showed up to the preschool.”

“You don’t think he was stupid enough to join a gang, do you?”

Pai chews at his bottom lip as he considers the question. Is Stop stupid enough to sign his soul — whatever fragmented version of it he still has left — over to a syndicate? The concise answer is yes. The real question is, what would a gang achieve by recruiting someone as…proficient as Stop? They’d be better off recruiting a stray pigeon off the street.

“I’d be more worried about the gang that agreed to induct him.” Phayu knows this, it’s surprising that he would consider the possibility at all, not unless he had reason to. “Why d’you ask?”

“This.” Phayu hands his phone over to Pai.

The photo shows Stop in another snazzy outfit, dark jeans and a leather biker jacket, his hair as slimed up as his personality. “He made it to last week’s race. One of Saf’s friends sent this over.” Phayu swipes across the screen to show more photos of Stop, skulking in the shadows, in conversation with one of the mechanics, smiling at a group of promoters. “He’s been asking questions about you and Natsu, with tears in his eyes for his poor sister. It worked on a couple of people.”

Pai’s jaw clenches as he glares at the photo of Stop, hands clasped in front of a group of women. “Who let him in?”

“Saf said he had a ticket issued to one of the smaller stakeholders.”

“So he stole it.”

“Or.” Phayu shakes his head. “He found a backer, and he had to pay them back for the favour…”

“...and sold his car to try and foot the bill.” And probably came up short, which means it’s more than likely that Stop’s gotten himself into a far worse situation which he’s scrambling to get out of.

“He’s never been the most…committed of people.” Phayu returns his phone to the table. “But he’s going around eavesdropping on the groupies and asking questions, lots of them.” He shrugs at Pai’s skepticism. “I think it’s fair to assume it’s not because he suddenly misses his sister.”

“You think he’s trying to dig up dirt?”

“It’s the most obvious explanation, which, with Stop…” He doesn’t need to complete the sentence, they’ve both had enough experience with the man to call out his games for what they ultimately are: desperate attempts for money, the money he’s always felt entitled to…

“You know how efficient he gets when he feels like he’s owed.”

“Well, he’s not going to find anything.” Pai shrugs. “As long as he stays away from my son, he can roll around in whatever ditch he wants to, I don’t care.”

Phayu understands Pai’s skepticism — the lawyer’s probably flipping through a manual on all the consequences that decision would have – a pile of restraining orders at the very least, criminal charges with a call for jail time if Prapai is feeling especially vicious, with additional allegations of defamation, harassment and stalking thrown in for good measure. Blackmail would not go down well with Pai. It would deter anyone from messing with the idea of it.

Almost anyone.

“First the preschool, now the track. I don’t like the pattern.”

“He’s not going to touch Ben, I’ll kill him before he does.”

“I know, and I’ll be right next to you, but it is what I would do if I were as stupid as him.”

Pai scrubs his face as he sinks deeper into the couch. “Good thing you’re not.”

“Lucky you.” Phayu agrees with the sentiment, Pai is very lucky to have a best friend as smart as him. “And if blackmail is the game he’s playing, it’ll never work. You made sure of that.” A dark look obscures his sharp features for a split second as the memory takes hold: the fight, the black eye, the accusations, the aftermath. None of it matters anymore, not now that the puzzle pieces have fallen the way they have and there’s no going back.

“I’ll check on that restraining order tomorrow. If I have to punch his teeth out, I want it to look like self-defense.” Pai mutters.

“Hmm. Figure something out for me too, will you, Mr. Lawyer?”

“Yes boss.” Pai mock salutes him. “You’ll find out what questions he’s been asking around the track? And who this benevolent backer might be?”

“Saf’s already on it. Someone said they might have an address. I’ll let you know.”

“Remind me to send him something nice.”

“Don’t bother.” Phayu kicks at Pai’s foot. “This sofa used to be something nice.”

This elicits a half-sincere snort of laughter from Pai and Phayu takes the opportunity to give his friend a once-over.

He doesn’t look bad, all things considered. His hair’s a mess from the helmet and the fact that it is unlikely that he looked in the mirror before rushing off to meet Phayu, the frown that’s cutting ridges into his forehead is temporary and slowly fading, no doubt because the gears are turning and giving Pai control over the situation. Pai turns to face him, eyes bright and alert, despite the time. “What?”

“Nothing. You look nice.” Phayu stretches out his legs so they’re as far away from Pai as possible. “Sky have anything to do with that?”

Pai looks his way with renewed interest, it’s not in Phayu’s nature to ask questions about his personal life. It’s just, well, Rain talks in his sleep sometimes, and lately, the more coherent of those sleep monologues have been directed at his best friend.

Sky, you should like him.

He likes your … fluffy hair…

He looks... in suits.

Kissing! I like kissing P’Phayu.

Pai doesn’t need to know any of this, the man has an overinflated ego to begin with.

“Have you seen him since the party?”

“Yeah.” Pai nods finally. “I have… been seeing him. A couple of times.” For fifty-seven days, to be precise, but he doesn’t share that with Phayu.

“That’s — good.” Pai can tell, by the way Phayu’s eyebrows arch by a millimetre, that his friend is surprised. “Has he met Ben yet?”

“No.” Pai shrugs. “I haven’t told him yet.” He sighs. “We’ve technically only been on two dates.”

“Ah.” Phayu waits for him to continue. “Is that all it’s going to be? Two dates?”

Pai shrugs, his features sapped of their usual good humour. “I hope not.”

Phayu hmms his support, knowing full well that it’ll make Pai scowl at him.

“It’s…I don’t know, Yu.” Pai throws his hands up helplessly. “I’ve never had to do this before. The people Mae sent my way had reading material on me so I never had to work to, I don’t know, win them over. And they all hated Ben – ”

“They didn’t hate Ben.”

“Yes, they did.” Pai is insistent. “They didn’t like the idea of having to miss yacht trips and club openings and being cancelled on at the last minute because Ben woke up with a cold. The number of times people asked me if I’d applied to boarding schools for him and when I planned on sending him away —”

Phayu shakes his head in subdued disbelief as Pai shares stories he’s never heard before. “Sounds like the problem was that they were terrible people.” Phayu nudges Pai, who considers the possibility with an absent-minded hmm. “Pai, I don’t think Sky is a terrible person.”

“Of course he isn’t.” Pai is quick to defend the man, and under any other circumstances, Phayu would give him hell for it, but today, he lets it slide. “He’s great – he’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Pai looks away from him and doesn’t answer right away. Phayu allows the silence to hang between them as Pai stares at his feet, flexing and pointing them as he sifts through his thoughts. Phayu takes the opportunity to walk over to the little fridge and retrieve two bottles of water.

“Me.” Pai finally looks back up at Phayu as he holds out a bottle. “I think I’m the problem.”

He takes a swig. “I think I’m being selfish.” He stares right ahead of him, absently hitting the plastic bottle against the glass coffee table. “The day after the preschool thing– he asked me if I had something on my mind. I should have told him then. That was the whole point of why I went to see him, to explain why I hadn’t — ” He trails off as he shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. I should have told him after, when he said yes to the date, but I just wanted him to tell me about himself then, and after —” He breaks off again, with a more violent shake of his head. “I should have, I should –”

“Pai.” Phayu steps in, a hand on Pai’s shoulder. “ Breathe. You’re spiralling.”

Pai follows his advice without argument.

He continues after a deep breath.

“Sky’s great, and I really, really like him, Yu.” It surprises Phayu, the readiness with which Pai acknowledges his feelings, the confidence that rings clear in his tone. “But what if this isn’t what he signed up for? What do I do then? I don’t – I can’t.” His voice is thick with emotion as he clears his throat and pushes on. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to walk away.”

And Phayu doesn’t have an answer for that, no easy reassurance that he can send Pai’s way to help put his mind at ease, because it doesn’t matter how ‘great’ Sky is, in Pai’s own words, or how much Pai might like him, if the fact that Pai has a son is a problem for him, then that’s that, and they’ll all have to learn to walk away without any hard feelings, and Phayu will try his very best not to hold this against Sky. And if Pai can’t walk away of his own accord, well, then Phayu’ll drag him away, by the scruff of his collar if he has to.

Phayu pats Pai on the shoulder.

“There’s only one way to find out what he thinks, Pai. The sooner the better.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Pai grumbles as he shakes him off. “You got any more sage advice for me, lover boy? ”

Phayu pretends to contemplate the question. “Just be yourself. And comb your hair, you look like a fool.”

“Cheers.” Pai flips him off as he pushes himself back to his feet.

***

The shiny red car is back in the no parking spot outside Sky’s faculty, complete with the elegantly-dressed man leaning against it.

“Hi.” Pai’s tone is soft and measured as he smiles at Sky, careful not to call attention to themselves here, in front of Sky’s place of work.

Pai couldn’t fend off attention if he were invisible. Sky will never tell him that.

“Can I drive you home?”

There is coffee in the thingy again, nutty and rich and freshly-brewed, and Pai hands it to him as they get in.

“Did you miss me?” Pai asks as Sky fastens his seatbelt.

“No.” Sky’s grateful that the darkness in the car hides his face from view, because Pai would see right through him.

“Well, I missed you.” Unlike Sky, Pai has no trouble getting the words out, nor is he hesitant to reach out, letting his warmth envelope Sky when he places his hand over Sky’s.

They drive off, using every minute of the trip to catch up on the day. Pai asks most of the questions, insists that Sky’s struggles with the seminar room projector are more entertaining than anything that’s happened to him all day.

“Trust me, all I did was sit and stare at graphs and watch my father scare the interns with a surprise quiz on legal codes.”

“Do you work with your father?” Pai nods at the question.

“He started the law firm the year before I was born. My sister and I work with him now.”

So there is a sister. And a brother, the guy responsible for the trees outside his office. “You must be close.”

“We are. My siblings are rabid terrors, but our parents are great.” Pai agrees. “I try to be like —” He clears his throat before continuing. “I’m very lucky.”

He doesn’t elaborate, which is peculiar to Sky, because Pai revels in sharing facts about his life with Sky.

Sky glances over at him, at the face he sometimes sees in his dreams now, at his perfect features that look wrong somehow that evening. It only takes a moment for Sky to put his finger on it – Pai’s smile is off, strained around the corners. It looks forced in the way it flickers and fades when he turns to look from Sky and at the traffic light.

The sense of deja-vu punches the breath out of Sky’s lungs: they’ve been here before, not too long ago. Another drive home, when Pai had admitted he’d had a long day, faced a crisis of some sort that was now under control.

Something’s wrong again, and it looks like Pai’s struggling to set it right this time.

Could it be work? Another hard day that Pai will insist he has under control?

Could it be something at home? Even though Pai just told him how lucky he is to have the family that he does?

It couldn’t…be Sky, could it? Did he do something? Maybe he shouldn’t have pried, shouldn’t have asked about Pai’s family when they were supposed to be talking about projectors and overdue assignments. Maybe this is Pai’s boundary, and maybe Sky’s crossed a line by asking about his family.

Or maybe it’s something else –

Maybe he should have admitted how jealous he was at the cafe yesterday. He had snapped at Pai, glared at him all afternoon, projected all his anger and anxiety onto someone who didn’t deserve it, and right now – he’d refused to acknowledge just how much he’d missed him at lunch, how near impossible it had been to focus, how he’d just given up and returned to the staff room because for the first time in his life, the idea of working at a cafe by himself had felt boring.

“P’Pai.” Sky smothers the apology that bubbles to his lips by force of habit. He won’t fall down that well today. He finds a better question. “What’s wrong?”

Pai grips the steering wheel tighter as he checks his mirrors so he can turn towards Sky’s building. They come to a stop outside the grey facade and Sky waits with bated breath, looking for signs that’ll tell him where this is going.

The uncharacteristic silence is a definite negative. Pai’s not even smiling anymore…

The fact that Pai’s hand is still firmly atop Sky’s… it gives Sky more comfort than he expected it to. Rain’s voice echoes in his head: He won’t hurt me. I just know he won’t.

He’s chosen to believe that about P’Pai, hasn’t he?

It all comes crashing down when Pai turns to him and finally meets his eye, sighing wearily before he breaks his silence.

“I have to tell you something.”

***

Chapter Text

Pai knows he’s fucked up from the way Sky freezes next to him, the way his eyes go dim, like he’s shutting off.

Like he’s bracing for an implosion.

Oh.

He sees it now, the way it sounds, the abruptness with which he’s broached the topic, the timing of it — choosing the minute before he drops Sky off to tell him he has something to say. What else is Sky supposed to think? What is wrong with him? He’s supposed to be good at this, words are his strength, allegedly, and here he is, messing it all up when it matters the most.

“It’s not – shit, Sky, I’m sorry. I worded it wrong.” Pai squeezes the hand under his, and after a moment of stillness, Sky reacts by untangling their fingers and placing his hand over Pai’s. “It’s nothing bad. I swear.”

The sound of Sky’s breathing, growing steadier with every passing moment is the anchor that Pai needs to keep going. “There is something that I need to tell you about my family...”

***

Sky’s vision is blurry, Pai’s face swims in and out of focus, as handsome in distorted form as it is on any given day.

He should probably blink.

And while he’s at it, he should try and breathe again, and then try speaking because it looks like Pai’s waiting for him to say something.

“You…” He grabs his coffee cup, tries to wash down the catch in his throat before he tries again.

“You have a son.”

Opposite him, Pai nods. “I have a son.”

The addition of a second voice helps him along. “A human son? You have a human child?”

“I do. I have a human child. A son.” Pai nods as he echoes Sky’s ridiculous words, which make it sound like Sky’s judging him. Human child. What else would it be, a pomeranian? Shit, he’s an idiot.

“I didn’t mean it like that — sorry.”

Pai dismisses the apology with a shake of his head. “I know.” He reaches for Sky’s hand again. Sky moves it to his lap, because he now has a second, more pressing question.

“So, you’re married?” The mean voice in his head takes over, rubbing its hands gleefully as it finally has something to celebrate.

There it is, that’s what’s wrong with him. He’s married and Sky’s just — what, a way to pass the time? A toy?

It’s irrational and unfounded, because Sky would have known. There would have been a ring, and even if Pai had been crafty enough to hide it all from him, Rain – Rain would have told him, wouldn’t have encouraged him, wouldn’t –

“No, I’m not married.” Pai’s voice pulls him back into the car. “I mean,I was – I’m a widower.”

The mean voice shuts up, and Sky’s left to deal with the sense of shame that comes over him at having listened to it. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Why would he think that way about Pai? Why’d he assume so readily that he’d do something like that –

It’s because –

No, Sky’s not bringing him into this conversation.

“Sorry.” He mumbles instead, his fingernails digging into his thighs as he forces himself to look at Pai. “I shouldn’t have – that was unfair.” His hand makes it back to the arm rest between them and Pai wastes no time in claiming it again.

“It’s okay.” Pai only shakes his head. “I understand, and it was still wrong of me to not tell you sooner. I just – yeah, I just wanted to let you know, you know?”

He asks the question like Sky should know what he means. Like it’s important for Sky to know that Pai has a child, as if the fact would somehow alter things between them.

Can it?

Sky realises he hasn’t really thought about it, he’s never had to wonder about what his expectations from a relationship should be, because he’s never been interested in pursuing one. Not until now.

“It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.” Pai’s still talking and Sky pulls the brakes on his train of thought to listen. “I know…some people aren’t interested in single parents...”

Sky knows this from personal experience.

“...it can be a lot for people.” It can. Especially if you were as hyper a child as Sky was when his mother left them. Sky remembers those less than happy moments from his childhood, snatches of a bleaker reality that his father shielded him from. His father had the support of the neighbourhood, there were always uncles and aunts and grannies flitting in and out of that house, offering to babysit and walk Sky to school and help him with his homework and his football kick. The neighbourhood showed up for Sky, Sky has social debts that he’s not sure he can ever settle, not that anyone expects him to.

No one ever showed up for his father.

And maybe that was by design, his father’s decision to focus on Sky and Sky alone.

Or maybe it was because a child was “too much” to handle.

“What’s his name?” Sky asks when he realises they’ve lapsed into silence and the ball is in his court.

“Ben. He’s four years old.”

“Ben.” Sky repeats the name, turns it over in his head. “That’s a nice name.”

Pai nods as he smiles, soft and indulgent, a manifestation of some core memory. “He’s a good kid.” He hesitates, and Sky nods at him, encouraging him to go on. “He’s sweet and so kind, the favourite of the family. I think you’d really like him too, but look, if it’s a dealbreaker – then that’s – well, I’ll respect your decision.”

A dealbreaker.

Because people do walk away in situations like these, because people don’t always envision lives with children and families. It’s too soon for Sky to start thinking about Pai in those terms, he’s still assessing his feelings for the man on a day-by-day basis. There’s no guarantee that they’re going to stay like this long enough to build a shared forever, he’s not that optimistic, that inclined to follow Rain’s playbook. He’s not Rain, loving and affectionate and impossible to walk away from. People do walk away from him, and Sky, well, he likes to run.

But Sky also knows that he’s not going to be thrilled if all the lunch hour coffees culminate in Pai walking away. He doesn’t have to commit to forever, forever’s not even on the table right now…

But he does want to commit to something with Pai. Why else would he be here, allowing Pai into his life, a croissant at a time?

Does the fact that he has a child change that?

What if it does? Pai says he’ll respect Sky’s decision, that Sky could break this all off and walk away, and Pai would let him. There’d be no revenge, no traps to even the score. At least that’s what Pai says, and Sky wants badly to believe him.

“ — don’t want children in the equation, and I understand. There are a lot of things I can’t do –”

With a start, Sky realises that he’s zoned out again and missed what Pai’s been saying.

“Like what?” He asks. “What couldn’t we do because you’re a parent?”

“Well.” Pai exhales at the question. “We wouldn’t be able to do last minute trips, or spend all night out at the club – I’m not saying we can’t, but I’d need time to arrange for a babysitter.”

“What else?” Judging by the ease with which Pai answers him, Sky suspects he has a mental list made for this conversation. Fine, Sky’ll humour him by letting him go through it.

“I might have to cancel last-minute if there’s an emergency.”

“Like if Ben’s sick?”

Pai nods. “Or if he can’t sleep at night. Sometimes he needs me to check under his bed for monsters.”

Sky can’t see how Pai’s vanquishing any monsters, looking like he does, but he lets it go. “Or sometimes there are things at his school...”

“So what you’re saying is.” Sky smothers the urge to roll his eyes. “If your son needed you, you would drop everything and go to him. That you would prioritise him?”

“Yes.” Pai affirms with no hesitation.

***

And that is really it, the crux of what keeps Pai drinking cheap rum at seedy bars at the end of every failed date: the fact that Ben will always be his priority. So when Sky asks him that exact question, he doesn’t even pretend to consider it or try and distort the truth with more palatable caveats —

Sometimes I might have to leave in the middle of dinner. I’ll try not to do it too often.

There is no ‘sometimes’, if Ben needs him, if Ben decides that his Yaa, his Aa Phan, his Aa Plerng aren’t enough and he really just wants his Pa, then there are no two ways about it.

And that’s why people walk away.

“Look.” Pai cradles Sky’s hand in his, in a final attempt to keep him there. Just one try, and then he’ll let go if that’s what Sky wants. “I really like you, Sky –”

“Really?” Sky scoffs, cutting him short. “I thought you only hung around me for the free stationery.” There’s no bite to his words and it emboldens Pai to shrug and mumble his own jibe.

“Well, maybe the highlighters have a little something to do with it…”

Sky’s mouth tugs at the corners. “P’Pai.” He pulls his hand away from where it’s cushioned between Pai’s.

“Yes, my Sky?” Pai leans in, forces his heart to beat normally, to not grieve the loss of Sky’s touch, because they’re still talking, because Sky’s still here, which are all good signs.

And yet…

He’s so quiet.

Sky stares at him for an excruciatingly long time, those brown eyes boring into his so intensely that Pai wonders if Sky’s planning to harness his anger to reduce him to ash. He’d probably deserve it.

“I don’t like clubs.”

“What?” Pai thinks he may have misheard that, having been too distracted by Sky’s beautiful, burning eyes.

Sky sighs as he repeats himself. “I do not like clubs. They’re dark and crowded and everyone’s always smoking around them, and I can’t deal with them. I don’t like going to them. And —” He holds up a hand to stop Pai from interrupting him. “ — I am on probation at the faculty, which means I do not have the time to run off on last minute trips, I would literally get fired for it, and I would like to keep my job…” He trails off, viewing Pai with suspicion. “Are you following?”

“I –” Pai allows for the gears in his mind to come to a standstill before he answers. “I – yes, I think so.”

“Good.” Sky leans back into the car seat. “Do you still have a phone?”

“I– yes?” Pai holds it out just in case Sky wants to take a look.

Sky swats it away. “You still know how to text? Who am I kidding?” He undercuts his own question. “You text me a hundred times a day. Come on.” He looks expectantly at Pai. “Text me.”

“I – okay.” Pai obliges.

Sky’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

“Hmm.” Sky nods at the emoji on his screen. “Okay.”

“Sorry, Sky.” Pai rushes to get a word in before Sky can give him any more instructions. “My brain’s a bit overloaded – what’s ‘okay’?”

“You know how to text.” Sky rolls his eyes. “And you have my number. So you’re going to text me if we have plans and you can’t make it.” He says it slowly, enunciating every word so it finds purchase in Pai’s brain. “Okay?”

“Okay.” Pai’s going to have a crick in his neck from all the high-speed nodding. It doesn’t matter, it’s going to be worth it.

He thinks, hopes.

He keeps his eyes on Sky, which is not a difficult task, he could stare at Sky forever.

“P’Pai.”

“Yes?” Pai steels himself for the admonishment, to be told he needs to find a better hobby than staring at Sky like he’s an optical illusion waiting to be deciphered, which is nowhere near the worst thing that Sky could say right now. His mouth is dry, his heart too-loud in his ears, drowning out the worst-case scenarios that his mind is doing its very best to throw his way. Sky could still change his mind, he could still walk away, he could –

None of that. He should focus on Sky, look at him while he’s speaking.

Just in case this is the last time he gets to do this, to hold the man’s attention. Sky unbuckles his seatbelt with a staccato snap—which Pai hopes will not be the fate his heart meets — before he speaks again.

“Can I kiss you?”

***

Chapter Text

Time is a construct. Meaningless, a cruel creature that has a vendetta against Pai specifically, because it refuses to pass. The window he’s staring out of tells him that it’s still night, still dark. The night refuses to turn to day so Pai can move along in his life.

He still can’t believe it.

He really misread Sky, gravely underestimated what the man was capable of doing to him. Well, now he knows that Sky — his quiet, hesitant, snappy Sky — can set his heart on fire just as easily as he rolls his eyes.

It’s not fair, the way the scales are balanced against him, where Sky can set every cell of his being ablaze and walk away unscathed, completely immune to Pai.

He comes to, to a sharp rap on the marble countertop. His sister stares at him inquisitively.

“You okay?”

Pai doesn’t have an answer to that.

“Who’s not okay?” A second voice joins his sister’s as his brother pokes his head in through the doorway. “This one?” He crinkles his nose up at Pai. “When has he ever been okay?”

“Plerng.” Phan nudges her brother into silence. “Phi, do you want to let go of that knife for me?”

“Huh?” Pai casts a foggy look at the fruit knife in his hand. Right, he meant to wash that after he cut an apple for Ben…earlier this evening? Half a century ago? “Right. Plerng, wash this for me, will you?”

“Wash it yourself.” Plerng hisses in pain as Phan stomps on his foot and hands him the knife. “You do know I’m your older brother, right?” He asks her.

“As the youngest here, I have bossing rights.” Phan tosses her hair over her shoulder before shifting her attention back to Pai. With a half-hearted grumble, Plerng walks the knife to the sink behind Prapai.

“What’s happening, phi?” Phan taps him on the shoulder. “Is it Stop?”

What a way to bring down the mood. Stop hasn’t shown his face since Pai saw him on Phayu’s TV…last night?

Was it only last night?

Which means his conversation with Sky…was only a few hours ago.

“Want me to try?” Plerng brings his hand up , palm outstretched as if to smack his brother around the head. He changes trajectory at the last minute, clapping him roughly on the shoulder instead. “Oi! Why are you being a grumpy pig?”

“I am not!” Pai protests. “I’m fine. Can you guys give me a moment?”

“We did, actually.” Phan perches atop the stool opposite his. “We gave you several moments—”

“Hundreds.” Plerng interjects. “You’ve been sitting here since after you tucked Ben into bed.”

“So?” It’s not a crime to stare listlessly at your own kitchen wall in your own free time.

“So, bedtime was three hours ago.”

That…is news to Prapai. Three hours, really? That should mean it’s close to eleven. He was supposed to look at something for Namtan before he went to bed…

“P’Pai.” Phan reaches for his hands now, just as Plerng turns the hand on his shoulder into a chokehold. “What’s up?”

“Ow!” Pai struggles against his brother but it’s futile. What Plerng lacks in strength, he makes up for in his commitment to causing Pai pain. “Get off of me. Gerrof, you gremlin!”

“So he does speak!” Plerng cranes his neck as Pai frees a hand from Phan’s clutches and tries to grab his hair. “I’m going to start poking if you don’t talk to us.”

“You’re going to make me lose my balance!” The stool he’s on shrieks in agreement. “I’ll take you down with me!”

“I— don’t— care.” Plerng cackles. “Phan. Grab his phone!”

Pai doesn’t stand a chance against the two-pronged attack. Phan swipes his phone from next to him and unlocks it with a swiftness that is worrying — when did she get his code? She holds it up in a menacing fashion. “If you don’t tell us what’s up in…five…I’m going through your messages…four—three—two—”

“Fine – FINE!” Pai holds his hands up in defeat. “Fine. Jeez, I’ll tell you.”

The strain on his neck loosens as Plerng settles down next to him, winded and his face glistening. He holds out his hand for his phone, Phan hands it to him.

“Plerng. Get me some water.”

“Get it yourself.”

“Plerng —” Phan’s dagger-sharp gaze is redirected to the younger of the two brothers. Plerng course corrects immediately.

“Fine.” He stomps over to the jug and returns with a glass full to the rim. “Here.”

Pai tries to buy more time as he takes a sip.

It doesn’t work, his siblings shoot identical glares his way. With a resigned sigh, Pai gives in. It’s not like he doesn’t want to talk about it. He probably needs to talk about it, to process it all.

“I told – S–” He catches himself before he can give them a name and open Sky up to social media scrutiny. “ — the guy I’ve been seeing — about Ben.”

His siblings exchange a look, one he knows all too well after having spent years as the target of their collective attacks. They’re strategising, planning.

“Oh.” Plerng says finally.

“Oh.” Phan repeats. “Right.”

They lapse into silence.

Pai reaches for his phone, determined to catch this moment on camera; his siblings are hardly ever this quiet.

“Okay.” Phan gets to her feet. “C’mon. We’re making this right.”

“Yup.” Plerng agrees enthusiastically as he leaps off the stool yet again and makes for the refrigerator. “We’ve got…twelve…twenty-four – two dozen eggs.”

“Perfect.” Phan claps her hands together. “What does he drive, P’Pai?”

“What?” Pai struggles to make sense of the chaos brewing around him.

“What car does he drive?” Plerng holds up the egg carton. “We’re going to give it a makeover.”

“I found a hammer.” Phan retrieves said tool from one of the drawers by the sink. “He has insurance, right? This shouldn’t make too much of a dent—”

“Good one.” Plerng clicks his tongue appreciatively at the joke.

“Thanks.” Phan turns to her eldest brother. “C’mon, P’Pai. Lead the way.”

The way where? Pai takes in the eggs, the hammer, connects their questions to the items in their hands, makes sense of it all. “Hang on. You’re not —”

“Of course not.” Phan shakes her head sagely. “We’re not doing anything. Allegedly.”

“Never. We’re upstanding citizens.” Plerng tuts as he practices his swing. “So, what does he drive?”

Pai swipes the egg carton out of his brother’s hands. “Put away the hammer, Phan.”

His sister sidesteps him. “Come on, P’Pai. Stop being so righteous. He broke your heart, he can deal with a broken windshield.”

“No, he can’t.” Pai suppresses the rush of affection he feels for these two feral idiots he has for siblings. “He doesn’t drive anything.”

“Oh.” Phan shrugs. “Whatever, we can egg his walls. He has a house, right?”

He does have a house. Somewhere inside a sixteen-storey building on a quiet street not far from the university, with green curtains and a wooden desk that faces the window. And a potted palm.

“We should pick up some spray cans on the way. Leave a message so he knows why his front door smells like eggs.” Plerng sounds gleeful as he makes the suggestion.

“Children.” Pai cuts in before they can brainstorm more ideas and alibis. “There’s no need.” He holds up a hand to silence any protests. “I didn’t have my heart broken.”

“You…” Plerng blinks as he tries to make sense of the words. “ You dumped him?”

Pai shakes his head.

“You didn’t – he didn’t dump you?” Phan’s voice is a whisper, like she’s worried she might crack something and make the words come undone.

“He didn’t.” Pai shakes his head, managing a smile just as his siblings pounce on him, drowning him in excited squeals.

“Shh! You’ll wake everyone up…”

“We should wake up Mae!”

“And Pa! I’ll get Pa.”

And that’s where Pai decides, as he pries them off him, that enough is enough. “One more word and I’ll tell them about that stunt you two pulled in London last year.”

“You wouldn’t!” Phan is disbelieving.

“He would.” Plerng has more faith in him than Pai had originally thought.

***

Once the pesky siblings have been dispatched to their respective corners of the house, Pai moves from the kitchen to the privacy of his room, so he can dissect the events of the day with more precision.

P’Pai.

Pai had expected follow-up questions about Ben, maybe even a conversation about why he’d waited so long to tell him, and Pai had been prepared to tell him the truth, to say he’d gotten swept up in Sky, he’d been too distracted, and maybe too afraid to broach the topic until it was inevitable. He hadn’t meant to be deceptive, it had just…happened.

Can I kiss you?

Sky had asked, his gaze unwavering as he’d stared right into Pai’s soul. Him. Sky had wanted to know if he could kiss him?

How could Pai have said no?

“I’d like that very much.” He’d said, wondering if this was some sort of ill-timed prank, if Sky was going to roll his eyes and shrug and tell him that, too bad, he should have thought about that before he’d decided to corner Sky in his car and give him a lesson in family history.

Or maybe he’d had a stroke, although he’d been certain he hadn’t smelt any burnt toast…

But no, Sky had been serious. He’d sprung into action as soon as Pai had expressed his willingness. Leaning towards him, a hand on Pai’s shoulder for balance, and the other on the nape of his neck, Sky had closed the space between them and…

Pai’s fingers flutter to his mouth as he tries to preserve the feeling of how Sky’s lips had felt brushing across his, the way they had pressed down with intent, like Sky was imprinting an urgent message onto them, one he couldn’t yet decipher, but it had felt significant enough to send electricity searing through Pai’s being, lighting him up, undoing the tight knot of uncertainty that had lived in his stomach all day.

And then Sky had broken away, his fingers brushing across Pai’s cheekbones as he had stared at him one last time, like he was assessing Pai and making confidential mental notes to some effect. Then Sky had pushed his door open and walked away, throwing a final ‘good night’ over his shoulder before disappearing behind the door. Not even a smile, not even a gasp, no indication that the kiss had wrecked havoc in him the way it had in Pai.

It was all so unfair.

***

To nobody’s surprise, least of all his own, Sky can’t sleep.

His mind is split down the middle, each part vying for Sky’s attention, incessantly and all at once. His thoughts are a tangled web of barbed wire and silken thread, the wins of the day melding with the fears he’s tried to silence that week.

Petch – so close to him. He might see Sky again. Might recognise him this time.

Pai thinks he has pretty eyes.

If Petch is around, his best friend can’t be far away.

Pai has a son and Pai wanted to tell Sky about him because he likes Sky.

Gun – he should be prepared, just in case.

My Sky.

My Sky. That’s what Pai had called him in the car, so casually that he may as well have been speaking about the weather.

My Sky.

It should have made Sky’s skin crawl, the implication of possession, the assertion that Sky was an object of some kind, to be had, to be owned. Gun had built Sky a prison around the notion; Sky wasn’t allowed to look at anyone else, to speak to anyone else, to pay attention to anyone else, because he was Gun’s. Gun’s to claim ownership over, Gun’s to give away whenever he felt like it. Sky had been Gun’s, in the way that pen on Sky’s desk belonged to him, dispensable, usable, disposable.

Except the pen meant more to Sky than he had ever meant to Gun.

My Sky.

Sky’s skin had not crawled when Pai had called him that. His name had sounded soft, reverent on Pai’s tongue, like he was being gentle with it on purpose when he uttered it. It had not felt like an assertion of ownership, no it had sounded like an acknowledgment of closeness, of belonging.

Like Sky’s name belonged here in Pai’s mouth, like Sky belonged there, next to Pai in that obnoxious car he drove around everywhere.

My Sky.

His own name had been the reason for his undoing, had weathered down the defenses in Sky’s heart and Sky had decided that he very much wanted to know what those lips — the ones that treated his name with so much care — tasted like.

So he had asked, before he could talk himself out of it. He had asked Pai if he could kiss him. He’d never done that before, not with anybody. He’d never even kissed Gun of his own accord, and now here he was, buzzing with a restlessness that he knew he wouldn’t be able to get rid of unless Pai. Let. Him. Kiss. Him.

Thankfully, because sometimes luck chose to be on Sky’s side, Pai had nodded at him.

“I’d like that very much.”

Red, Sky must have been red because his face had felt like it had been ablaze when he had closed the space between them and finally tasted those soft, smiling lips. Pai had been dazed and pliant under him, and Sky had hovered a few seconds longer than he’d planned for, as a reward for himself, for finally managing to silence the voices in his head that kept hissing for him to keep away.

No. He wouldn't keep away.

He wanted this.

Pai had sighed when Sky had broken away, like he’d been holding his breath so as not to spook him. It had almost made Sky smirk. Almost, because then he’d looked into Pai’s eyes.

So brown, so endless in the soul and the warmth that they could hold.

So Pretty.

Pretty Eyes.

Someone had tried to woo Pretty Eyes, his Pretty Eyes away from Sky, before Sky had even had a chance to let Pai in, and while it was abundantly clear to Sky that Pai wasn’t to blame for the actions of a faceless stranger — Pai who hadn’t even realised that the note had been for him— Sky had decided that just for today, he’d allow himself to feel some way about it.

So, instead of deepening the kiss like he’d been tempted to do, Sky had pulled away and done his best to leave without giving himself away.

And now here he was, curled up in his armchair in the middle of the night, still putting the puzzle pieces together.

Pai had a son. A four-year old. Pai was a dad. A good dad, by the sounds of it, a present father who loved his son. Pai was a widower, which meant there was some sadness in his past – it was impossible, heartbreaking even, to imagine Pai sad, so Sky wouldn’t dwell on it, wouldn’t imagine any of it.

Pai said he liked him. The confession had been exhilarating, despite the fact that Pai’s feelings for him had been obvious from the start. Maybe it was because Sky had spent all this time since he gave Pai his number, waiting for something to snap, waiting for Pai to change his mind, for him to walk away as he figured out Sky’s truth.

Instead, Pai had beckoned him closer, and had let him in on an integral part of his life: his son.

Now, in the dim lamplight and huddled up in his green jacket, Sky wonders if he’s worthy of it.

The thoughts about Petch and Gun come floating back to hover in the space around him.

A year and a handful of months, nothing in the grand scheme of things, but it had left its mark, and Sky was tied to the worst people he knew, people who were impossible to shake off, people who dictated his life even when they weren’t physically present, and while it was true that Sky fought them every day with the intention of winning, so he could banish them from his life for good, it was still so hard sometimes.

He hadn’t won yet, and wasn’t that a disservice to Pai, to invite him into Sky’s life when there was still debris to sweep up and cracks to patch over?

Squinting at the jarring brightness of his phone screen, Sky pulls up the chat on his phone, scrolling until he finds the photo he’s looking for, the photo he absolutely has not deleted despite claims to the contrary.

A rain-drenched Pai grins up at him, inviting, encouraging him to give in. He makes it look so easy, Sky traces the smile with his fingers, his own smile sneaking its way across his face.

His phone buzzes as it laughs along. Sky jumps as smiling Pai is replaced by a video call request from actual Pai.

There’s no way. This has to be another hallucination, a product of the jumbled mess in his head.

Sky accepts the call anyway.

“You’re awake.” Pai says by way of a greeting. “Can’t sleep?”

“I was asleep.” Sky lies. He’s used to being awake at this hour, Sky wonders why Pai is too.

“Really?” Pai’s eyes scan what little of Sky he can see on his screen. “Are you wearing a suit jacket?” Sky had forgotten about the green jacket, draped around his shoulders and fulfilling its duty as his safety blanket. He pushes it off his shoulders, even though it’s already too late.

“I think I have a similar one in my cupboard somewhere —” Pai scrutinises him, and Sky is glad to have the shadows as a shield. “ — should I wear mine to bed today? We could match.”

“Do whatever you like.”

“Hmm…” Pai bites at his lower lip as he thinks. “Then, can I kiss you tomorrow?”

Is that what Sky sounded like when he asked Pai a similar question? So forward, so shameless?

“No.” Sky says even as his mind rushes to construct an image of the other man’s lips pressing against his, seeking permission to deepen the kiss, to get a taste of Sky…to ask for more…

A shiver jolts through his spine; the phone shakes between his trembling fingers.

“Okay.” Pai continues. “How about the day after? Or the day after that?”

Sky clears his throat. “No.”

Pai scrunches his eyebrows as he processes the denial. “How is that fair?” He whines, as he waits with wide, confused eyes, for Sky to clarify.

God, this man.

“You care a lot about fairness.” Sky perseveres, keen to derail the conversation before his face can give him away.

“I do.” Pai asserts. “A lot.” He sounds dead serious. Sky has the impression he’s just been thrown another puzzle piece, a clue about the things Pai holds dear. “It’s only fair that you let me kiss you tomorrow.”

“Fine.” Sky gives in with a tired sigh. “We can negotiate tomorrow.”

“Negotiate?” Pai looks uncertain, before he brightens up. “Yeah, okay, I’m good at negotiating.” He might be, but Pai doesn’t know that Sky’s got his own experience of talking his way out of situations. There’s no way Pai’s going to win, not unless Sky wants him to.

“Good luck. I’m hanging up now.”

“I won’t need it.” Even on this side of midnight, Pai has the energy to be cocky and confident. “Go get your beauty sleep. Not that you need it. Oh, and —” He waves a hand at the camera for attention before Sky can cut him off.

“What?”

Pai brings his fingertips to his lips, and kisses them before wiggling them in Sky’s direction. “Until I can kiss you in person tomorrow.” He grins deviously, and this time, there is no hiding the red as it blooms onto Sky’s face.

Sky hangs up before Pai can bring it up and say or do something else that jeopardises his composed facade. His heart hurts in his chest from the sheer force of its beating.

Fine, he’ll let Pai win tomorrow.

He lets Pai win every day that month.

Chapter Text

Instinct tells him that it’s morning, time to get out of bed and begin his rare day off in the middle of the week. He has plans that he would love to get to, really…

But he’s in Pai’s car, his seatbelt on, trapped in place because Pai’s leaning over him and kissing him good night. All he can do is hold onto the man’s lapels and reciprocate.

The scene changes without warning.

Now they’re at the cafe, poring over their respective reading material and Pai’s fiddling with his glasses, trying to clean the lenses. Sky holds out his hand, he means to help, but Pai has other ideas. In an instant he has Sky’s hand trapped in his. He bends down to kiss it just as Sky pulls away. ‘P’Pai!’ They’re in public, but he doesn’t care, he’s happy to let the world know how he feels about him…

…Now they’re at the date they went on last week, a late night showing of a horror film that Sky likes. It’s not the most romantic of source material, but Pai doesn’t need creative encouragement. They kiss in the seats like errant teenagers, while the world burns on the screen in front of them. Sky can feel the heat in his cheeks…

…They finally go and get ice cream one night, the night that Sky decides to call the shots. He comes to a stop on the pavement, in a dark corner. ‘What’s wrong?’ Pai frowns at the cone in his hand. ‘Did they give you the wrong flavour?’ Sky shakes his head as he uses his free hand to pull the other man towards him. Pai grins shamelessly as he parts his lips to give Sky access.

‘They did give you chocolate.’ Pai winks at him once they break apart. ‘Was that a hint of sea salt? Let me taste again?’ He puckers his lips dramatically, knowing it won’t work, but doing it anyway because he also knows that it’ll make Sky laugh…

‘You can tell me when to use my mouth.’ Pai purrs in his ears, his fingers trailing across Sky’s jaw as he whispers a kiss onto Sky’s earlobe. It’s the same flippant words he’d used at the cafe all those weeks ago when Sky had told him he was noisy.

Only Pai would turn a complaint about him into an invitation for something this salacious.

Sky shivers at the contact as Pai sucks on his neck, the sensation sears his skin because it’s so new, so unfamiliar. Sky's never allowed himself to be touched like this, letting Pai rake his fingers over whatever parts of him he likes, because he trusts the man to look after him. He squirms as Pai’s breath warms him up. Those plush lips move from Sky’s ears to his mouth, trapping it in a fiery kiss as Pai wraps an arm across Sky’s torso, weighing him down into the mattress.

They’re in his bed. Sky’s never let anyone into his bed before…

‘I want you to use your mouth. Please…’ Shit, he’s practically begging, but it’s all so good, and Pai’s offering to make it even better, and so begging feels fair.

Sky doesn’t mind begging in this instance.

The sound of Pai’s laughter is followed by that hum he adds to his words, knowing full well that it drives Sky crazy. ‘Where should I use my mouth, My Sky?’

His Sky, yes, Sky wants that.

His lungs gasp for air as Pai kisses him again, rough and unending, like Pai has no need for oxygen as he nips at Sky’s lips, flicking his tongue over every bite to soothe the sting.

Not once in the past month has Pai kissed him like this. Pai’s kisses have always been soft and languid. He knows he doesn’t always win his negotiations, doesn’t always get his way and so he compensates by drawing out every kiss that he is allowed, kissing Sky until they’re forced to part for air.

But this, this is different, more urgent, like they’re fighting against a ticking clock. Sky feels it too, the instinct to jump into action and move along, before they lose…what, Sky doesn’t know.

‘Here, please P’Pai. Here!’ Sky manoeuvres Pai’s hands down the length of his body to where he’s already hard. ‘Here.’ He pushes against the pressure, whines because he knows it’ll feel so good when Pai swaps his hands for his lips. ‘Please.’

‘Anything for you, My Sky.’ There’s that whisper again, that casual assertion of belonging, as Pai presses into him.

A thousand bells chime around them as Pai follows through on his promise. Sky’s stomach does a flip as the sensations overwhelm him and pull him under, until he’s sinking through the bedding, falling through the floor. Sky tries desperately to reach out to Pai, to cling to those arms, but he’s already too far down in his spiral.

The ticking of the clock grows louder inside his head.

The bell chimes again, closer this time.

With a muffled whine, Sky opens his eyes.

“Shut up.” He mumbles to the shining sun, to the empty bed, to the bell that woke him up, to the thoughts of Pai that are crowding his mind and that he knows he won’t dare mention to Pai. He reaches for his phone and squints at the time: nine ‘o’ clock, just as Pai had promised. Somewhere in the past month, between going on walks and kissing in Pai’s car and in the secluded copse of trees in the university park, Sky had conceded and given Pai his full address, under the condition that Pai would only use it sparingly.

He should have defined ‘sparingly’.

For the last three weekends, Pai had sent him something or the other – coffee, a breakfast pastry, another bouquet of sunflowers, a vat of soup because Sky had told him he had a sore throat.

This wasn’t Sky complaining, it was just him adjusting — adapting, learning how to let Pai do things for him.

It was easier than he’d thought it would be.

He still had to figure out how to reciprocate, how to do things for Pai.

As if he knows he’s being thought of, Sky’s phone buzzes with a message.

P’PAI

There’s breakfast at the door.

Eat once you’re up.

I’ll miss you at lunch today. :(

What’re you doing today?

Dealing with you. Sky thinks, not kindly as the contents of his dream filter back into his consciousness: the kissing, the wandering hands, the fact that heat from his dreams has followed him into wakefulness. It’s a small mercy that Pai’s not here to see him, to laugh at Sky’s embarrassment, at how greedy he’s become in the last month, now that kissing Pai is a near-daily ritual.

And now it’s all coming back to bite him. Sky hopes someone spills a glass of something all over his suit as payback.

In the meantime, he chooses to ignore Pai on his day off.

***

Pai’s having the worst day, and that’s counting that one time as an intern when he had gotten himself locked up in a fish freezer during a research visit. He had been rescued by his most condescending colleague, who had waited – on purpose, Pai is sure, until the very last minute to step in. As a result, Pai had missed his first court hearing and gotten an earful about his attitude from his boss, who also just happened to be his father.

This is worse than stinking of fish.

First, he has to contend with the fact that Sky’s not going to be around for lunch, and that, as much as he would like to, it would be unfair of Pai to plead with him to change his schedule to accommodate Pai. No, Sky deserves his quiet, and Pai’s not about to tell him how to spend his rare day off.

Then, he’s barely made it into his office when the phones begin to ring. An intern has messed up a case file and he’s stuck doing damage control all day, which includes having to reach out to an ex-colleague and running laps around him, trying to flesh out a deal that makes sense for the both of them. The only problem is, his ex-colleague is an ass, and Pai suspects he’s going to need a chiropractor by the time he’s done bowing to Khun Asshole and his whims.

He’s got a headache, and it’s barely past lunch. He could do with a coffee, but that would just make him think of Sky, which will trigger the need to call him, which will ruin his original plan of letting Sky breathe. Pai barks off a final set of orders to his interns, his tone more terse than it usually is, orders Namtan to go find a business card that’s an integral part of the deal with Khun Asshole, and then, happy to have five minutes to himself, slumps over onto his desk, his eyes screwed shut, his head threatening to burst as he goes through his to-do list.

Come evening, he needs to have a word with his interns. His father’s suggested he fire the lot, but that’s not Pai’s plan. He’s been in their shoes, understands how slip-ups can happen, knows it wouldn’t be fair to fire someone over what is essentially his responsibility — he should have trained them better.

So it’s only fair that he fixes it, one phone call to Khun Asshole at a time.

So many hoops to jump through still. Pai mumbles into his desk, stretches his arms out to ease the tension in his back. He’s forgotten about the glass of water that’s perched at the edge of his table, still full because Pai hasn’t had the time to take even a sip. The glass topples over, sending its contents all over his lap.

Great.

Just great.

***

Sky can’t stop thinking about the dream.

And he does try, so hard, to exorcise the misbehaviour of his unconscious mind from the memory bank of his conscious one, he needs this mind for work and everyday existence and can’t afford to overload it with imaginary scenarios that he can’t even talk about to anyone.

The best thing to do is to let it all fizzle out of his consciousness.

Except, it doesn’t, it just invades his space, one room at a time.

The heat from the coffee as he brews it in the kitchen leaves him flushed and hot, when he runs to the bathroom to wash his face, he finds himself staring at his reflection, mapping out the places, the spots that dream Pai had marked, anointed for Sky.

Ridiculous.

He’s being ridiculous.

Maybe the problem is that he isn’t thinking of Pai, because if he did, he’d be able to differentiate dream Pai from real Pai. One is a desperate, feral, needy creature, a creation of Sky’s mind, the other is a shameless, tiresome… needy creature.

There’s a clear difference.

With a sigh, Sky reaches for his phone and rereads the trail of messages Pai’s sent him in the last few hours.

P’PAI

AM 11:30

Did you go back to sleep?

Lucky you

PM 12:24

I’m in the longest meeting I’ve ever been in

Want me to order you lunch?

PM 2:00

Did I say my last meeting was the worst one ever?

Scratch that, it’s this one.

PM 2:45

I had to borrow a highlighter for something just now.

It wasn’t the same.

I miss you and your highlighters, Skyy.

Attached to this message is a photo: of Pai’s fingers wrapped around a pink highlighter, a stack of documents on his lap. Sky’s eyes travel back to those fingers, the same ones that were entwined in his hair that morn—

“Shut up.” Sky reprimands himself for mixing up the two Pais again as he moves over to the final message.

PM 3:00

I hope you’re thinking of me, because I’m thinking of you.

Sky tosses his phone to the other end of the sofa.

Enough, all this sitting around is rotting his brain, so Sky decides it's time to adopt a more aggressive approach.

***

Sky’s ignoring him.

He could just be very busy, but the evidence points to Pai’s theory being right.

He hasn’t heard from the man all day, which is unusual for Sky – the man responds to most if not all of his messages, and Pai’s learnt to find affection even in the ones that read like threats.

I’m going to block you one of these days.

(He never does)

You have spinach in your teeth.

(Pai is flattered that Sky’s examined the photo long enough to have spotted it)

I’m not kissing you ever again.

(That one had worried Pai, and Sky had been resolute in his decision, right until the end of the day when he’d leant in and kissed Pai on the cheek anyway.)

Today, there are no threats on his phone, no unimpressed emojis, not even a ‘no’ to the messages where Pai is fishing for validation or sympathy.

Sky’s just resting, catching up on his sleep. Pai knows he’s been busy with corrections and student conferences.That’s what Pai tells himself as he forces himself to go back to his computer screen.

His eyes seek out the time at the bottom of his monitor.

It’s nearing five. He could do with a coffee.

No, Pai decides as he pulls up his phone. They could both do with a coffee.

***

It is too hot to run, and even if it wasn’t, Sky hates running, but sometimes, running is the only way he can feel in control of his life, the only thing that can help him calm his mind.

The irony of it all is not lost on him.

And yet, Sky decides he’s going to do another three laps of the park. Just until he burns through the anger, until it gets dark, and he can return home and throw himself into preparing for the early lecture he has tomorrow, and then if he’s lucky, he’ll be able to fall asleep , no dreams, no nightmares, just a sore body and an empty mind.

He’s going to feel this run tomorrow.

And it’s all Pai’s fault, because the man has clawed his way into Sky’s mind, one wink, one food order, one flirty text message, one kiss at a time, and now he’s sneaking into places Sky’s kept locked and bolted, and is conspiring with his imagination to obliterate his peace of mind.

Sky quickens his pace as he runs past a family, sidestepping two young children with ice cream cones.

Ice cream. Pai had asked him out for ice-cream at the end of their first date, had genuinely wanted to know if Sky had wanted ice cream that night. Sky understands now that that’s just what Pai is like, always offering things, eager to send gifts and food and flowers, anything that Sky wants, at the drop of a hat.

Problem is, Sky doesn’t want anything from Pai.

Sky wants Pai.

He doesn’t know what to do with that information, because contrary to what Rain might say if Sky ever told him- and Sky’s never going to tell him — the solution isn’t simple. If it had been, Sky wouldn’t be spending his day off torturing his muscles and overworking his mind, trying to fix something that doesn’t need fixing.

It’s not wrong to be attracted to your maybe-boyfriend, Pai would probably see it as an accomplishment, God, he’d be unbearable if Sky told him about any of this. It’s not wrong to want to do more than just kiss him, it wouldn’t be with anyone else.

But this is Sky, and he knows he’s just going to turn this into some sort of revelation, something about trust and love…and Gun.

Fuck Gun, for ruining so much for him, fuck him doubly so making him run about it, and a triple fuck him for constantly finding reasons to drag him into comparisons with Pai.

It’s not Gun. His inner voice, as disloyal as it was ten years ago, steps in to reprimand him.

Well, fuck his inner voice too.

Sky has a stitch in his side as he pushes forward, trying to run faster, as if that’ll fix the way his mind is being vandalised by his thoughts.

It’s not a crime to lust after the man who’s been kissing him nearly everyday for the last five weeks.

It’s embarrassing, and maybe a little frightening, but it’s not a crime. He reprimands himself again as he speeds up and puts too much force on his ankle, causing him to teeter off-track and nearly roll into a tree.

He should have adopted a less intense coping mechanism, like journaling or keeping a diary.

***

Pai’s just finished his debrief with the interns, and is prepping for the final wrap up of the day with his father when his phone rings, the display lighting up to a familiar number. He swipes it at it, uncoordinated, desperate and in full view of a trio of retreating twenty two year olds who’ve just been told off and will probably talk about what an uncoordinated oaf their boss is as revenge.

“Hello?”

There is nothing but muted pitter-patter on the other end.

Has it been raining? Pai cranes his neck to glance outside his window, where fragile raindrops cling to the dusk-stained glass.

Pai diverts his attention to the phone again. “Sky?”

There is an intake of breath, an exasperated huff. “Yeah.”

A smile creeps its way up Pai’s face, the first he’s had time for, given the events of the day.

Sky’s calling him.

The smile slides off his face as swiftly as it appeared there, because Sky never calls him.

“What’s wrong?” Pai motions for Namtam to come in as he gathers his things into the centre of his desk. She recognises the request and packs the assorted files and his devices into his bag.

“I’ll tell Khun Pat to catch up with you at home.” She disappears with his bag, which Pai knows with no doubt will end up in Phan’s clutches and make its way back home.

“Nothing’s wrong.” He can feel the heat of Sky’s glare all the way through the phone. The man’s tone is reassuring, and Pai relaxes a fraction. “I —” The unmistakable roll of thunder rolling in the distance interrupts Sky’s sentence. On cue, a skeletal streak of lightning splits the sky outside Pai’s office window.

“Can you come get me?” His voice is clipped, like it physically hurts him to ask it of Pai.

Maybe Sky is actually hurt. The voice in his head throws a worse possibility his way.

“Can you send me your location? I’m on my way.”

***

Chapter Text

Embarrassing is the word Sky would use to describe the situation he’s just put himself in.

It wasn’t embarrassing enough that he’s been running laps of this park for what feels like hours — but can’t be because even Sky knows he’s not that athletic – trying to get his racing mind under control. Twisting his ankle by running into a tree, in front of three children no less, and being forced to give up his athletic assertions for a break on a park bench, that wasn’t embarrassing enough. No, the powers that be had to make it so that once Sky sat down on the bench to recover from what he had been sure was just a temporary setback, he’d find it virtually impossible to get back up. They had conspired with whoever was calling the shots and made it rain, only a little, only a warning shot to spur Sky into action.

He’d thought about calling Rain, who lived forty minutes away – he’d even had his finger on the call button, but then his supernatural bullies had decided to send a roll of thunder his way. Loud enough to up the stakes, close enough to make Sky do things he wouldn’t normally do.

Sky didn’t mind waiting for Rain in the… well, rain, but even he drew the line at the possibility of getting fried in a thunderstorm.

He’d tried once more to stand up, to no avail; a twinge of pain had shot up his foot, spread all the way to his calf, to his thigh.

He wouldn’t be walking out of here by himself, not anytime soon.

So Sky had called the newest number in his contacts.

This, having to call the root cause of the situation that he was now in for help, only to have all the rain and thunder ease up as soon as Pai had confirmed that he was on his way? This had to be the most embarrassing part.

“You don’t have to stay on the phone.” Sky reiterates for the millionth time as he pulls at his shirt to keep the damp fabric off his chest.

“I’m almost there.” Is all that Pai says on the other end.

It’s a script at this point, both of them having repeated versions of the same thing at each other for the last twenty minutes.

“Yeah, so hang up, P’Pai.”

“No. I’m making up for not having heard from you all day.” A car honks in the background. “You promise you’re not hurt?”

“I’m fine. Can you focus on driving?”

“I’m here. Are you still at your live location?” A door slams in the background.

“Yes.” Sky admits grudgingly. He couldn’t move if he wanted to; his foot’s gone to sleep.

“Okay. Two minutes.” The line goes silent, save for a rhythmic spike of static as the phone brushes against the fabric of Pai’s jacket as he jogs down — by the sounds of it – to Sky’s bench.

Sky sees him before he hears him, a figure emerging from the misty curtain woven by the rain. Pai hurries over as soon as he spots Sky, his brow knitted in confusion, whether at Sky’s choice of outfit — a ratty t-shirt and shorts that he would never wear around the architecture faculty— or at the resignation with which he sits on the unsheltered bench, letting the raindrops collect in his hair and trickle down his face, Sky can’t tell.

“Why are you sitting out here in the rain?” Pai asks as he slides in next to Sky, joining him on the bench. The rain relishes the addition as it cascades down the soft, dark locks of his hair, clings to the fabric of his jacket.

Sky mutters something indecipherable, and Pai’s frown only cuts deeper as he makes sense of it.

“Your ankle? You promised me you weren’t hurt!” His voice rises on the last word, and Sky forces himself to look at Pai so he can decipher what his words don’t convey, but Pai’s face wears nothing but that sharp frown. His gaze travels from Sky’s face to his foot, and back again.

“I’m not! It’s just my foot.” Sky mumbles, realising how weak the explanation sounds. That’s another ‘fuck you’ to his mind for skewing his idea of what is and isn’t a legitimate injury. Either way, Pai is overreacting; a temporarily twisted ankle is no big deal.

“You and I have vastly different definitions of what ‘not hurt’ means.” Pai mutters as he scooches closer to Sky, close enough for Sky to feel the heat on his breath. “C’mon.” He turns away from Sky so that Sky only has the broad expanse of his back to look at. “Get on my back.”

“I –” It takes Sky a moment to connect the dots, to figure out what Pai wants him to do. “No way! I’m not getting on your back!”

“I can take it.” Pai says, as if that’s the problem, as if that solves anything.

“I’m not getting on your back.” Sky hisses as he makes another futile attempt to get to his feet. Pain shoots through his left side as soon as he puts weight on it; his body begs him to return to his seat.

So maybe it is a bit of a big deal.

“Fine.” A strong arm wraps around his waist, and Pai pulls Sky into him, inviting him to lean his weight into his side. With no other feasible option in sight, Sky complies.

“Better?” Pai’s voice is too close to Sky’s ear; it sets a chill up his spine, which, luckily for him, Pai interprets as a response to the cold rain. “You should have called me sooner. What were you thinking, Sky? Out here in the rain by yourself.”

Sky’s protests, the same old chant of “I’m fine”, because the truth, that he’s here because he wasn’t thinking, or more accurately, that he was thinking of someone in particular, is far more damning.

“Let’s get out of here.” Pai leads them out towards the car.

They’re barely in the car when Pai initiates Round 2 of their debate.

In a way, Sky welcomes the conflict; it takes his mind off less important things, like how he has a photo on his phone of Pai looking exactly as he does right now, with his wet hair and shiny eyes, the scent of his cologne – a fresh mountainous pine– activated by the rain.

He needs to delete that photo, and then he needs to scrub his brain clean.

“No.” Sky repeats for the second time. “We are not going to the hospital.”

“It could be broken.”

“It’s not.”

“Sky–”

“No.” Sky reaches for the handle, an ultimatum. “I’ll take a cab if you’re going to try to force me.”

“I’m not –” Pai sighs, more out of exasperation than weariness, and it occurs to Sky that this is the first time he’s seen the man so out of sorts. His frown has taken over his whole face, leaving no space for the easy smile that usually lives there. “I’m not going to force you.”

Is this what he looks like angry?

“Fine.” Pai concedes, losing again. “No hospital.”

They drive in silence, Pai darting glances at him every time he has a chance, braking carefully on every speedbreaker like he’s carrying something fragile. He parks as close to the building entrance as is possible, assuring Sky that he’ll make sure they’re not blocking a neighbour’s spot.

“I’ll deal with it. You first.”

And then he’s at Sky’s arm again, offering his own to help Sky out of the passenger side. It’s only once he’s out that Sky notices the damp spot on the seat.

“Sorry, I’ll clean that up.” Sky reaches for the box of tissues that lives on the dashboard, but Pai is too quick for him as he slides it away.

“There’s nothing to clean up. Come on.” Even though his tone is impatient, those gentle hands are back on his waist, guiding them up the ramp and into the lift, where Sky is confronted once again by Pai’s frown as he sneaks a look at him in the lift mirror. It doesn’t suit him, this perpetual lack of his usual cheer, and Sky feels a pang of regret for being the cause of it.

“You’re staring at me.” Pai comments as their eyes meet in the mirror, and maybe it’s because Sky is wet and embarrassed, or perhaps it’s because he’s desperate to change the way Pai looks in that moment, but Sky finds he doesn’t have it in him to shut him down.

“I am.” He admits, as loudly as he can without turning too red.

It works like a spell. The frown melts off Pai’s face and gives way first to confusion at the deviation from the script, which is replaced swiftly by surprise, and then, like a thin flame flickering against a strong wind, a hint of a smile lights up his face.

Even in this germinal form, it is so warm, Sky feels it in his bones. His foot feels better already.

***

This is the first time Pai’s been on his floor. With all the delivery guys, Sky had forgotten that Pai’s never actually been past the main entrance. The realisation makes him more nervous than he’s willing to admit, especially as they approach his door, where a plastic bag hangs morosely on the doorknob, another one of Pai's treats that Sky wasn't even home to receive. Pai removes the bag without comment as he waits for Sky to let them into the flat.

It’s fine.

It’ll be fine. It’s not like Sky has a choice. He tries to shake the man off at the door, but Pai clings to his side like he’s been soldered in place, interrupting Sky’s assertions that he’s okay now through the power of his stony gaze alone. There’s a fire burning beneath the surface, angry, threatening to lick away at Pai’s self-control.

Sky’s feeling the sparks every time Pai’s arm moves against his as he walks them to the sofa.

He’s been here before, and it’s never ended well for him.

Silent anger, the kind that brews and festers within before it finally spills over, is the worst of them all. It is a venomous snake biding its time in a field of sunflowers, poised to strike when you least expect it to, when you’re too dazzled by the scenery.

It’s easy to get dazzled by Pai.

Sky averts his gaze; he can’t afford to get sidetracked by Pai. Despite what the man looks like, he is only human, and human beings, well, they get angry, they lose control.

He’d forgotten that.

He’ll be more careful.

“Can I take off your socks?” Pai asks once Sky’s seated. He’s kneeling on the floor, fingers hovering over Sky’s foot, waiting for the go-ahead like Sky doesn’t have two perfectly usable hands, like his foot isn’t just twisted.

“I’ll do it myself.” Sky demonstrates by peeling off one wet sock as Pai shrugs out of his jacket and settles down cross-legged on the floor. He casts a half-interested look around the space, and Sky really wishes he’d spent some time cleaning that morning instead of obsessing over dream Pai’s hands, the ones that are perfect copies of the hands now flitting over his ankle.

“It doesn’t look broken.” He looks up at Sky, checking for signs of pain. Even if he was in pain, Sky finds he has plenty to distract him. “Does this hurt?” He presses random points around Sky’s ankle, his fingers feather-light, gentle, in stark contrast to the daggers in his eyes.

There he goes again, losing focus, dropping his guard.

“It’s fine.” Sky mumbles helplessly, knowing it’ll have the same effect as his previous attempts to shake off the man. “It’ll be fine tomorrow.”

Pai hums as he sets the foot down. “Okay, well, you should take off your shirt.”

“What?” Sky’s face burns, but once again, Pai is too focused on his foot to notice the shift in his expression.

“You’ll catch a cold, it’s dripping wet. I can bring you something if you tell me where everything is.”

Right. He’s spent half an hour stuck in the rain. Pai is only slightly better off: his suit jacket has shielded him from most of it, and save for his hair, which is plastered to his forehead and saturated with raindrops, he looks as put together as ever, as aggravatingly handsome as ever.

“No need, it’s almost dry.” Sky barrels on before Pai treats this as an invitation for round 3, before the thought of being shirtless in his presence scrambles his mind more than it already is. “Just - get me that stool.”

Pai proves that he's good at following directions as he brings the padded stool over and waits patiently for Sky to prop his foot on top of it. It’s for show, mostly, now that he’s out of the rain and back at home, Sky feels confident enough with limping around until his foot untwists of its own accord. “I just pulled something, I just need to walk it off.”

“Hmm.” Pai adds a cushion under Sky’s foot. “A doctor could have told us for sure.”

Sky doesn’t have the energy to counter him.

“Where are your towels?” Pai asks once he's determined that Sky's comfortable enough. “Don't even think about getting up.” He preempts the move on Sky’s end. “Just tell me where.”

Begrudgingly, Sky relays directions from the comfort of his stack of cushions and Pai disappears into the guest bedroom. Pai returns ten minutes later, armed with two towels and a renewed sense of purpose.

Sky gasps as the fabric first makes contact with his hair. “Wha– what are you doing?”

“Drying your hair so you don't catch a cold.” Pai offers matter-of-factly as his fingers massage Sky's scalp through the towel. “Stay still.”

“I–” Sky's attempt to initiate a new debate is undercut by Pai.

“You have three lectures tomorrow. Do you want to miss them all?”

Sky doesn’t have a lot to say to that; he’s more stunned at the implication that Pai has his schedule memorised. The lawyer’s tone is stern, like he’s the professor reprimanding a student about a missed deadline, and while Sky was never the most obedient of students, this once, he chooses to comply.

“There.” Pai says finally, once every strand on Sky’s head is manageably dry. “Now we can move on to other things. Dinner? Or do you want to shower first?” Pai paces the length of the living room as he speaks, running his fingers through his hair — Sky tries his very best not to pay too much attention to the movement, lest his mind gets more ideas — his eyes flitting from Sky, to the furniture, to the kitchen, like he’s looking for clues on what he should do next. “Should I run down to the pharmacy and get you some painkillers? Or a balm or something? Do you have a thermometer? We should check for a fever. Maybe you should take the day off tomor–”

“P’Pai.” Sky sighs as he takes in the man with the damp hair who has been buzzing around the room with a dizzying speed. “Sit. You’re making me nauseous.” Pai considers the offer as Sky pats the space next to him on the sofa. Finally, he gives in and settles down next to Sky.

“Sorry.” He sighs as he sweeps damp hair out of his eyes. “I guess I’m only used to looking after Ben.” His fingers knead rivets into the upholstery as he looks up at Sky. “Too much?”

In that moment, it hits Sky.

Pai isn’t angry at him; the exasperated sighs, the insistence on practically carrying him everywhere, the constant assessments about whether or not he needs a doctor, whether or not he has a cold, the perpetual need to keep busy, it’s not to hold the rage at bay.

No, it’s not that.

It’s because Pai is worried, to the point of anxiety, which has him spiralling into an

abyss of endless questions.

Too much?

Probably, but then it wouldn’t be like Pai to stop at just enough.

Idiot. Sky’s been an idiot again, choosing to see only what he expects, and not what truly is.

This isn't – this is –

This is Pai.

“Come here.” Sky turns with newfound intent before Pai can protest him swinging his foot off the stool.

It is Pai’s turn to yelp now as Sky throws a towel over the other man’s head and makes an attempt to dry those thick rain-drenched locks as best as he can. Sky shifts closer, until their thighs touch, close enough for Sky to admire how ridiculous Pai looks in that moment, a towel thrown over his head, his eyes wide as he stares transfixed, lips parted as his brain blanks on the question he was starting to ask.

What is this man? His mind asks of him as Sky stares right into those warm brown eyes.

They’re not stony anymore, maybe they never were.

Distracting is what he is; Sky covers Pai’s face so the man won’t be able to see his smile.

“You don’t have to worry so much.” Sky reiterates as he pats Pai’s hair down. Then, after a split second of hesitation, he uses his fingers to part the stray locks that have curled over his forehead back to their usual place atop Pai’s head. Pai’s eyes go glassy again at the unexpected touch and Sky has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his face from betraying him. “I’ve lived through worse. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”

“And if you’re not?” Pai counters, the argumentative tint rearing its head again, but now that Sky can read between the lines, he has the answer ready.

“Then we can go see a doctor.” He says words he’s never uttered before. “And you can hear them tell you how I’m right.”

Pai looks at him with renewed hope. “Promise?”

Sky doesn’t deal in promises, doesn’t believe they amount to anything in the real world, but if a promise is going to help the man next to him breathe a little deeper, if it’s going to ease the tension in his jaw, then Sky thinks it’s worth trading in his scepticism for a sliver of faith.

“Promise.”

The affirmation seals the void between them as finally, after an hour of leaving Sky thirsting, desperate – more than he even knew he was — Pai flashes a dazzling, sunshine-imbued smile at him.

It’s sweet and heady and intoxicating, and Sky finds himself returning it as he basks in their shared moment, letting it swallow him whole and wash away all the madness of the day. Dream Pai has nothing on Real Pai. This is Dream Pai, his Pai, the only Pai.

The sense of victory that courses through his veins emboldens him, eggs him on to be reckless.

With a final ‘fuck it’ thrown to his own reluctance, Sky closes the distance between him and the smiling man.

Pai’s breath hitches as Sky’s lips seek out his. His fingers snake to the nape of his neck as Sky anchors himself before pulling Pai in closer. Sky puts his faith in his mind, which has been tormenting him all day with visions not different from what Sky’s initiated here, in the middle of his living room.

Fine. You win. He concedes. I’ll kiss the breath out of this bloody man.

And so Sky lets his mind take over and do as it pleases. He’s greedier than he imagined as he pulls Pai closer, tugs at his hair as he licks the lips that look best when they’re curled upwards. He tastes Pai’s mouth, the one he uses to say the most saccharine things about Sky. His hands glide down from the back of Pai’s neck to his shoulders, his back, the sleek line of his spine that Sky now traces through Pai’s shirt. The man shivers at the touch, and a surprised sound escapes his mouth, low and strained as the last of Pai’s control splinters into unsalvageable pieces.

Good, Sky thinks. He should feel the way Sky feels, should suffer the same effects.

It’s only fair, and isn’t fairness so important to Pai?

Sky smirks against Pai’s lips as the other man lifts him and moves him into his lap like he’s weightless, all consideration for his foot finally forgotten, Sky hopes. He kisses Sky back, hot and fervent and as hungry as his dream counterpart, his hands finding their way under Sky’s shirt, tracing the planes of his back while his tongue acquaints itself with his mouth. Sky presses into him, his pulse racing to match the one he can feel through Pai’s linen shirt.

“Your shirt’s wet.” Pai whispers as he breaks for air, his hands tugging at the old cotton on Sky’s torso.

Really? This again? When there are other things to worry about?

With an exasperated sigh, Sky pulls at the cotton fabric and tugs it off his head.

“There.” He throws the damp shirt as far away into the corridor behind them, out of sight, out of mind. “Now can I go back to kissing my boyfriend?”

Pai doesn’t answer right away, distracted as he is by the contours of Sky’s bare chest. Then the circuits in his brain connect, and he looks back at Sky with renewed wonder in his eyes.

“Say it again.” He whispers as his hands graze Sky’s bare shoulders and curve down his arms. The touch sends shivers up Sky’s spine, activating something he’s long-suppressed: the desire to touch, to map, to memorise every part of someone else’s body, the very thing he was forbidden to do the last time he allowed himself to be this close to another person. Sky watches, spellbound as the other man’s fingers travel the length and breadth of his upper body, the touch is smoother than silk, more searing than a hot iron picked from the embers.

“Sky…” Pai whines from under him, his caresses growing more fervent. “Please.”

“No.” Sky hinges backwards, relishing in the way the friction against his thighs makes Pai hiss. Gingerly, Sky returns his fingers to where they were in Pai’s hair, pulling at strands as he makes his way downwards, tugging at the collar as he finally rests his palms on Pai’s chest, moulding his palm around Pai’s beating heart.

Beat beat beat. Like a galloping horse.

Beat beat beat. Like a house on fire.

It’s not enough to feel, Sky wants to touch, wants to walk into the blaze, wants to be engulfed in it.

Clumsily, he attempts to undo the buttons on Pai’s shirt. He is stopped by the other man, who captures his hands in one of his own, using the other to tilt Sky’s chin towards him, forcing Sky to make eye contact.

“Say it.” There is a timbre to his voice that suggests Pai’s not pleading anymore, he’s negotiating. “And I’ll let you touch.”

Sky liked the man better when he was dazed out of his mind.

He tries to free himself from Pai’s grip, to go rogue and rip those stupid expensive buttons off if he has to, but Pai’s stronger than him. Stronger than Sky’s resolve to make the man suffer.

“P’Pai.” Sky’s voice is too breathy to sound stern. “Let your boyfriend touch you, please.”

An evil grin snakes up Pai’s face as he meets Sky’s lips again. “No take-backs.”

He drops the hand that holds Sky’s captive and repositions it to the small of Sky’s back, holding him stable as the man on top of him claws at the mother-of-pearl buttons on Pai’s now very crumpled shirt. He’s far too slow for Pai’s liking, who decides to take matters into his own hands, using his free hand to pull at his shirt until the buttons rip off their panel, exposing his bare chest. Then Sky is upon him, tracing talismans and trailing kisses down his neck, onto his pectorals, nipping at his Adam’s apple like a starved man. All Pai can do is stroke Sky’s hair and whine into the crook of his neck as Sky — his boyfriend, his mind reminds him, mad with jubilation— explores his body, his face flushed the most breathtaking shade of pink.

God, he’s perfect.

Sky looks up as Pai stifles a moan when Sky’s breath brushes across his nipple.

“Drama queen.” Sky hisses at him, eyes bright, bolder than Pai’s ever seen him.

“Yeah?” Pai’s voice is gruff as he brushes the pad of his thumb against Sky’s nipple, tentative at first to lure him into a sense of false calm before he squeezes.

The sharp hiss of breath as Sky caves in on him is all the reward and encouragement Pai needs.

“Now who’s the drama queen?”

Sky starts to answer and Pai takes the opportunity to cover Sky’s mouth with his own as he silences him with another kiss. Sky melts into him and Pai turns his attention back to the hardening peaks on his chest. He gets to work sucking and brushing kisses onto the pale skin, his lips trace patterns across perfect collarbones, linger over Sky’s heart, the kindest heart Pai’s ever known, even if Sky does conceal his true nature behind prickly words. He anoints each knuckle on fingers that turn ideas into intricate drawings and fit perfectly into Prapai’s when he’s accorded the privilege of holding them.

“You’re so beautiful, Sky, so fucking gorgeous. Perfect.” He licks at an old scar on Sky’s shoulder, runs his tongue over a beauty mark above his nipple, determined to memorise every feature on Sky’s body before the night is through.

“Noisy.” Sky complains through disjointed gasps. Hands cradle Pai’s face, and he moans again as Sky leads his mouth back onto his, because there's too much, too much for him to explore, to worship, too many things for him to convey to Sky. Sky pulls at Pai’s hair as he devours his lips, sucking and nibbling at them, relishing them like they hold nectar, their breaths mingling together as they choose the same path to lose themselves on.

More more more.

The chanting in his head is back as Sky trails his hands down Pai’s torso, to the waistband of his trousers, which he lets his finger curl into as Pai squirms in anticipation.

This is revenge.

Sky’s fingers graze past Pai’s thighs and come to rest on his own as he draws circles, sweeps the tips over his own sensitive spots.

“Meanie.” Pai whimpers, his eyes fixed on Sky’s hands, moving so precariously close to his lap.

“What?” Sky feigns innocence as his fingertips brush the soft fabric of Pai’s trousers.

“Meanie.” Pai reiterates, eyes screwed shut as the sensation overwhelms his senses. “My Sky is such a meanie, playing with my heart.”

Sky leans forward until he’s close enough to kiss Pai’s ear. “That’s not your heart.” He whispers as he tugs at the waistband again, his breath as hot as the heat that’s unfurling in Pai’s stomach.

Merciless is what his boyfriend is.

A fiend, a meanie.

Pai cries as Sky’s hand disappears into his trousers, dangerously close to where he’s already hard. Too long, it’s been too long, and now Sky is going to be the death of him. The man smiles against his lips again as he cups Pai’s dick through the thin layer of his underwear. The touch shocks the sense out of Pai.

“Fuck, Sky!”

He’s really going to kill him, and Pai’s going to die, embarrassingly fast, at this rate.

As if realising how close Pai is to losing it all, from touch alone, Sky abruptly halts his ministrations over Pai’s body. Then, before Pai can react, find it in him to open his eyes and reach out for Sky’s arms, his mouth, anything, he feels Sky shift above him.

A pained whine escapes his lips as he opens his eyes to see Sky standing over him, the two feet of space between them already a painful chasm, his hair sticking out at odd angles, the pale skin around his collarbones already blooming like a garden.

Like roses.

The flowers between his thorns.

“Come on.” Pai snaps back to the current situation at Sky’s voice.

“You come on. He counters as he holds out his hand, hoping Sky will take it and return to his lap, let Pai take a closer look at those hickeys around his clavicles, let him add a few more to complete the pattern. He pouts, whimpers for added effect.

Sky doesn’t take the bait.

Instead, he plays his own cards.

“My foot’s going to hurt if I have to walk on my own.”

Pai is on his feet in an instant, clinging to Sky’s side in the next, stealing a kiss before he asks. “Where are we going?”

“House tour.” Sky says, like it should be obvious, and maybe it should be, and Pai’s brain is just too fried to appreciate the logic. “Come on.”

Reluctantly and on wobbly legs, his arm still wrapped possessively around Sky’s waist, Pai allows himself to be shepherded around the flat. Sky leads him into the open-plan kitchen that adjoins his living room.

“This is the kitchen.” Sky presses him against the marble island and kisses his cheek, too close to Prapai’s mouth for it to be coincidental. “You hungry?” Sky’s tongue brushes against his jaw, and Pai closes his eyes as he bares his neck for Sky’s benefit, hissing when Sky licks at the tendon there.

“Famished. I could eat.” Pai hums in Sky’s ear as he tries to return the kiss in kind, but his attempts are foiled when Sky pulls them into the corridor.

“The second bedroom—” They stop next to the door that leads to the room with the linen cupboard, the one that Pai went into but has no recollection of because he was focused on the towels alone. “ — is my study.” Sky says as he pushes him against the wall next to the door to kiss him. Pai takes the opportunity to pull the man into him so he can cup his ass through the thin running shorts. Sky presses into him with a moan and a garbled cry that sounds like the word ‘more’. Pai is happy to comply, squeezing and kneading and kissing until Sky pushes away from him for the second time, trying his best to compose his flushed face into a look of reprimand.

“You’re killing me.” Pai whines louder this time, no longer caring how needy he sounds. He is ignored as Sky drags him to the next door down the corridor.

Pai’s mouth searches for his as soon as they stop walking. “This–” Sky bites Pai’s lower lip to get his attention. “Is my–” He’s interrupted again when Pai retaliates by pulling him until he’s stuck to Pai’s chest. Pai then lowers his head to suck at the sensitive dip of his collarbone. “my —fuck P’Pai — bedroom.” His fingers comb through the other man’s hair as he lets him mark him for just a while longer, thankful that he has Pai to hold him upright as his legs turn to jelly.

Then, with a sudden use of strength, Sky pulls away from Pai.

“But you don't want to see that, do you?” He's devious as he breaks free of Pai and hovers by the door, pushing it open to reveal a sliver of darkness. With a gentle push, Prapai nudges Sky closer to the door. His hands find purchase against Sky’s hips as they stare at each other, their eyes reflecting each other’s want, their hot breaths fanning the fire in the other’s heart.

“I really, really want to.” He hums against Sky’s ear, relishing in the way Sky’s breath hitches at the admission. He likes that, does he, when Pai tells him exactly what’s on his mind?

Well, Pai’s more than happy to tell all.

He takes another step towards Sky, pushing them further into the room.

“I want to share your bed.” His gaze travels between Sky’s legs, where the gym shorts leave nothing to the imagination. Pai smirks as he slips a finger under the elastic waistband, adapting one of Sky’s tricks to use to his benefit. “I want to take care of you.”

“P’Pai.” Sky’s voice when it comes again is deliciously breathless, but it does nothing to satiate Pai. Suddenly, he’s ravenous, greedy to hear his name called out in other ways, eager to see what aftertaste it leaves on Sky’s lips. He dives in for another kiss.

“I know you’d taste so good, honey.” He croons as Sky shivers in his arms, his eyelids flickering as Pai turns his attention to his nipples again. “Please, Sky.” Pai takes another step forward, into the bedroom. “I want to taste you. I want you to pull my hair–” Sky’s fingers obey the command as they weave through his hair again, sending electricity shooting through Pai’s body. Pai moans at the contact, fights the haze in his head to complete his sentence. “ – and I want to see how pretty you look when you come.”

He pushes a final time, the world tilts around them, but they barely notice, lost as they are in each other’s presence.

Sky whimpers beneath him as they fall onto the bed. He’s beautiful like this, on his back, face on fire, eyes black as coal and burning holes through the last of Pai’s sanity as the white sheets lick at him like a white-hot blaze.

“Can I –” Sky’s voice is fragile and shaky, quaking like a house of cards as he seeks out Pai’s lips to anchor him. The man obliges happily, leaning in to kiss him into the mattress. “please — can I touch you?” Slender fingers find purchase on the curve of his waist, trail to the swell of his ass in his trousers as Pai, ever helpful, slips them off altogether.

“You can do whatever you like,my Sky. I’m yours.”

***

With Sky’s fingers roaming over his body, Pai gets to work, kissing down the man’s body as he finally – finally – slips off those running shorts so he can finally have access to all of Sky, so he can taste every part of the man who is currently whispering frantic nothings under him. His nails scratch along the soft, pale flesh of Sky’s inner thighs as he finally takes him into his mouth.

‘P’Pai!’ Sky says his name again; this time it’s a breathless gasp as Sky’s hands claw at the fabric around them. Pai takes him in deeper, relishing the feel of him in his mouth, grazing his tongue across the leaking slit of Sky’s cock when he reaches it, and celebrating when Sky bucks into him, crying his approval at Pai’s technique.

‘Fuck, fuck – I –”

So eager, so communicative, so ready to talk to Pai. He could come from Sky’s cries alone, honestly.

Pai laps up more salt while he repositions his hands to massage Sky’s balls, to sweep spit-soaked fingers across the base of his penis as he begins to lazily stroke his way upwards, while his mouth sucks harder, deeper.

‘Fuck – please.’ Sky’s hips thrust upwards of their own accord; the deathgrip he has on his bedding does nothing to ground him.

Pai thinks he should celebrate this, the fact that he still has it, that he can still melt minds with his blow jobs. Good, his Sky deserves his best. Pai hums, hollows out his cheeks as he grows greedier, more eager to extract another iteration of his name, anything, he just wants to please Sky.

He just wants Sky.

“P’Pai, please.” Fingers tug at his hair, commanding him to stop, and Pai does, immediately, letting the strand of saliva and precum trickle down his chin as he stops. He looks up from between Sky’s legs to see the man in tears, his chest heaving as Sky struggles to talk.

Oh.

In an instant, he is hovering over Sky, his fingers wiping away the wetness on Sky’s cheeks, his eyes seeking out Sky’s, relieved that they’re still looking at him, that Sky’s still sentient, just this side of dazed.

“What is it, honey?”

***

It’s not fair.

It’s not bloody-fucking- stupid fair.

It’s not fair that Pai gets to do this to him, to unravel him and pull all these sounds from, and Sky can’t even look at him, can’t even touch him back. His body reacts embarrassingly fast to Pai’s touch, to his mouth and fingers, to his hair grazing across Sky’s stomach every time he moves his head. It’s simultaneously too much and not enough. He wants to sift through the sea of sensations he’s drifting in, and feel them all individually – the weight of his boyfriend, the blunt pressure of his fingernails as they press into his inner thigh, the spark of electricity that’s buzzing in him at this moment as his mind fights between surrendering to the tempting haze of pleasure and staying there so he doesn’t miss a moment of this.

His breathing stutters and suddenly his chest is too tight, too suffocated by the typhoon of all of Sky’s contradicting thoughts and feelings. His breath catches just as Pai does something with his mouth that Sky very much would enjoy if he could just fucking breathe.

He tries to get Pai’s attention the only way he can think of when his words fail him.

It works, the stupidly handsome man’s face swims into his vision, Sky reads his lips and finds his way back to the physical confines of the room, to the mattress he is pinned to, to the man who is at this moment hovering over him, staring right at him, seeing sides of him Sky’s not sure even he’s seen before.

“What is it, honey?” Pai whispers, his fingers stroking the hair out of Sky’s eyes. “Can you breathe with me?” He hums above him, the vibrations magically loosening the knot in Sky’s stomach, the one that’s somehow connected to the way his mind is racing.

Honey. The audacity to call him that while he’s hovering over him, naked and poised.

Honestly.

Sky finds both his voice and his temper again. He shoves aside the ache of having been pushed so close to the edge only to be denied at the very end, although to be fair, that second part is entirely on Sky, because he doesn’t want to – can’t –

Not while Pai still has the gall to look like this. With newfound purpose, Sky grabs Pai by the shoulders and pulls him down on top of him. Pai doesn’t get to protest, or catch his breath or consult his senses before Sky kisses him, biting his lip, sucking on his tongue, he doesn’t care what he does as long as it fulfils the wider purpose of ruining the man’s composure.

To his delight, it doesn’t take as long as he’d thought. Pai moans as soon as Sky’s tongue slips into his mouth.

“Fuck, Sky – I’m going to –” Sky breaks the kiss as he looks up, then down, at his boyfriend so he can catch him in the lie, except he’s not lying.

“Really?” Sky rolls them over until they’re on their side, facing each other. “I didn’t even do anything.”

Pai’s eyes widen in disbelief before he screws them shut. “ You don’t even know what you do to me, fuck, what you’re doing to me right now, Sky.” He refuses to cooperate, to look at Sky, not even when Sky nuzzles into the crook of his neck, not even when he sucks a mark onto the skin there.

Fine. He switches tactics as he spits into his hand, loud enough to trick the man in front of him into peeking at him through one eye.

“Fuck, Sky.” Pai shivers as he follows Sky’s hand.

“You said I could touch.” Sky reminds him nonchalantly. His fingers sweep across the top of Pai's cock, his saliva mingling with the wetness there. “So let me touch.” Sky rubs around the head, smirking at the way Pai’s breath wavers at the touch. “And then you can keep your promise to me.”

His mouth finds Pai’s again, who obliges by kissing him back, shivering as Sky jerks him off. Sky swallows every whine as the man bucks into his fist, save for the final one that accompanies his orgasm. Pai curls up into Sky as he comes into his hand. Not ready to concede just yet, Sky uses the thick fluid as lubricant to stroke him a couple more times, knowing full well that the overstimulation as Pai comes down from his high is sure to send more shockwaves through his boyfriend’s body.

His boyfriend. Huh.

The words do have a nice ring to them.

‘Fuck.fuck.fuck. My Sky, my – fuck, fuck!’ A trembling Pai nuzzles into the crook of Sky’s neck, biting at the tendon there, which in turn makes Sky cry.

“P’Pai!”

“My name sounds so nice on your lips, my Sky.” Pai’s voice is low and rumbly, burning against his skin.

My Sky. His Sky.

“Mine.” Sky declares as he tugs at a lock of his boyfriend’s hair and frees his clavicle from the man’s mouth.

Mine. He repeats to himself in an undertone as Pai goes back to blowing him.

Mine mine mine. He thinks as he pulls at his hair again, seconds before he comes, painting white streaks across his stomach. He’s crying again, but this time, he understands the cause – these are good tears.

Pai’s face swings back into view. His head hits the pillow next to Sky as he gathers Sky up in his arms again.

“See.” He declares with a smugness that he shouldn’t be able to muster. “I knew you tasted so sweet, my Sky…”

***

Chapter Text

Prapai's inner clock dings and shocks him awake.

Morning, his mind registers the fact as he squints through half-closed eyes at the streak of light that dances on his abdomen.

School? His first thought of the day.

It’s still early.

Not your bedroom. Is thought number two.

The final pieces of the puzzle fall into place in Prapai's head as he breathes in the scent of the tangle of hair that brushes his arm, as the warm body wedged into his side stirs.

Last night – he stayed the night because Sky hurt his foot, and then after, he stayed because… he lets the memory wash over him once more so he can preserve it forever.

Wandering hands, Sky had traced every vein under his skin, bitten into every muscle, counted and measured every strand of hair on his head by holding it between his slender fingers.

And Sky had whispered, more to himself, but close enough for Pai to hear.

Mine.

My boyfriend.

Mine.

Over and over, Sky had chanted the claim, seared it into Pai’s mind, where it belonged, just like Sky belonged here, tucked into his side, peaceful in sleep, his forehead smooth, his features unguarded and at ease, so Pai could finally read the parts of him he’d kept hidden away.

It’s not weakness, Pai’s never thought of Sky as being weak or fragile; the man is scarier than some of the criminals – alleged – he’s had to deal with at work. Sky can look after himself, but still, something about the way he looks now…

In sleep, the walls around Sky have fallen away. He looks younger now, more unveiled – and it has nothing to do with the fact that he’s practically naked — it’s like…

It’s like the glamour Sky was using to keep him at arm's length has dissipated and disappeared, but instead of breaking a spell, the unravelling has only caused Pai to grow more determined, more committed to making sure it’s always like this. He wants to wake up next to Sky like this over and over again. Always.

Mine.

Sky’s words echo in his head, repeated this time in Pai’s own voice.

Sky stirs again, coming to this time with a groan, and Pai stills next to him, suddenly self-conscious, a part of him scared to spook Sky, unwilling to lose the warmth of his body as it presses into his side, afraid Sky might revoke this newly-accorded privilege and retreat into himself again.

The sleepy man protests against the glaring brightness with a little whine, and Pai fights down a laugh when Sky presses his face into Pai’s side, his hair tickling the sensitive area around his ribcage. Then, as if registering the difference in texture and realising that he’s not burrowing into an overstuffed pillow, but into another person, one of Sky’s eyes flutters open, and he freezes as he looks right at Pai. Pai mirrors the look, not daring to breathe, just in case that particular life-sustaining necessity is an inconvenience to his half-awake boyfriend. He makes sure not to look too pleased with himself - Sky might stop talking to him for being too full of himself, like he did that one time after he'd told Pai he had pretty eyes. Sky stares at him a moment longer. Then, with another sleepy sound of protest that stabs Pai right in the heart, Sky wills his other eye to open to the morning light, adjusting to the day as his gaze focuses on the man in his bed, the one who's pretending to be a statue, for some reason.

“Morning.” Pai finally finds his voice as he lifts a finger to push a strand of hair off Sky’s forehead.

“Morning.” Sky sighs, his voice breathy and still sleep-laced as he returns the greeting, angling his face so he can look up at Pai and stare straight into his soul. He closes them briefly at Pai’s touch, before mirroring the action and raising his own hand to Pai’s face. His fingers come up to trace the angles on Pai’s face, down his along his jaw, until he freezes abruptly at the junction between his neck and his collarbone. “Oh no.”

There is a soreness there, which Prapai feels more acutely as Sky presses down on the spot.

“Oh no.” Sky repeats, eyes wide in horror.

In that moment, Pai wants to laugh, because it's not like Sky’s escaped unscathed, not like his chest isn't marked red, turned into a display of Pai's proud handiwork, or mouth-work really, if they're being technical.

“‘Oh no’? Do I not look good?” Pai casts a look at the marks he’s left around Sky’s nipples. “Because you look…magnificent.”

Sky swats him on the arm. “Stop fishing for compliments, P'Pai. That's going to show.” Sky brushes over the hickey again, like the action will erase it from his tan skin. “You won't be able to hide it.”

He's right. The mark is too far up his neck for a shirt collar to cover it. Good thing he’s scheduled to only look at paperwork that day, which he can do from the confines of his office, far removed from his sister and her posse of nosey interns.

“I'm not going to hide it,” Prapai states as his fingers flutter over the mark on Sky's nipple. He remembers, vividly, how that got there.

“No?” Sky follows him with his eyes.

“No.” Prapai reiterates. “Unless you think I don't look handsome.” He pouts, and this time it actually works. Sky mutters something unintelligible under his breath and then states in a huff of breath.

“I think you look handsome.” He breaks contact with Prapai's neck as he lifts two fingers to his mouth before returning them to the hickey – a morning kiss.

“Yeah, I gathered that last night. Loud and clear.” Prapai pushes his luck too far and is rewarded with a sharp jab to his side, before Sky buries himself into it again, whether out of affection or embarrassment, Pai doesn't care. He tightens his embrace, happy to let this go on as long as possible, before the pressures of routine and work take over.

“What time is it?” Sky asks, his voice muffled against warm skin.

“Early. Five thirty.” Pai provides. They still have a full hour and a half before they have to be out the door. “Sleep a little longer, I can drive you to the faculty after I drop Ben off at school.”

This causes a small tsunami in their sea of tangled legs and bedding as Sky wriggles free of Pai’s arms, more awake now, his eyes wide and concerned.

“You stayed the night --Ben —”

“ — was busy stealing pizza off his Aa’s plates. He didn’t even ask about me. I’ll be there when he wakes up, so he won’t miss me.” Pai rolls over to close the distance between them, taking advantage of his momentum to drape his leg across Sky and pull him into a kiss. “You’re so sweet.” For thinking about him, for remembering Ben.

“I have morning breath.” Sky grumbles, but another kiss cuts him off as Pai dismisses the complaint.

“Still, so sweet, and…” There is a telltale glint in Pai’s eye before he speaks again, his voice temptingly low this time. “So talented. That thing you did with your mouth– ow!” He whines as Sky jabs him again. “What? It’s a compliment!”

“I don’t want it.” Sky huffs, trying to turn away from him, giving Pai a full view of his reddening ears.

“But you deserve it.” Pai grins at him, already bracing his core for the next attack. “My Sky’s so great at everything—”

“P’Pai —” The red spreads steadily from his ears to his cheekbones as Sky shoots him a dirty look.

“Next time.” Pai leans in to kiss the red spot on his cheeks, chasing the flush with his lips as it spreads to the bridge of Sky’s nose, his other cheek, his forehead. He litters the man’s face with kisses, celebrating as Sky’s protests grow more and more feeble, as his eyelids shut to allow for Pai to kiss them. “I’ll make sure we have condoms so I can show you how good I am – hey!” He yelps as Sky breaks free of his embrace and rolls over onto Pai, pinning him to the mattress as he straddles him.

He’s glaring and messy-haired and wild-eyed, and so, so, perfect.

Pai remembers to breathe, just as Sky leans in to kiss him, deep and messy, good enough to spark everything – and he means everything – about Pai into wakefulness. Then, just as he remembers to grab onto Sky’s hips, the man rolls off him and onto the floor, taking the duvet with him so Pai can’t even admire the view as Sky steps away, towards the bathroom.

Meanie.

His whining falls on deaf ears.

“Skkyyy!” Pai watches him trip over the fabric, which reminds him. “Your foot?”

Sky half-turns to glare at him again, which, in Pai’s book, is a win. “It’s fine. Want me to kick you with it?”

“Yes, please.” Pai beckons him over, shameless, desperate for any excuse to hold his boyfriend’s attention.

Sky disappears into the bathroom, muttering something about hopelessness and nutcases.

“Can I join you?” Pai calls after him.

“Don’t even think about it!”

***

Pai – his boyfriend, Sky has to remind himself – is nowhere to be seen when Sky emerges from his shower twenty minutes later. Admittedly, he’s spent longer than he usually does, but it was necessary. He needed the extra time to process, to take stock of his mind – which is still hazy and overloaded with the memories and sensations of the previous night, and his body, at the marks that Sky can’t stop looking at — and okay, maybe it is juvenile to feel this giddy about hickeys, like he’s some inexperienced teenager, but he is giddy.

Because it was good, good enough to knock him out. He vaguely remembers Pai cleaning them up and kissing his eyelids when Sky had been unable to open them.

He remembers Pai sucking on his finger, tasting him.

You taste so sweet.

Idiot. Really, was he always this shameless? Flashes of a conversation in Phayu's living room flit past his mind; well, there's his answer.

He remembers the way it had felt to wake up, wrapped up in warm, solid arms, the way he’d had to tell himself to breathe when he’d looked into those big, brown eyes first thing in the morning. Sky knows it’s unfair of him, but a part of him had expected to wake up to an empty bed, to the start of another round of the game he's played far too often before, an obstacle course constructed from missed calls and implausible excuses, cancelled dates and shouting matches, which he could only survive by offering up more of himself, by dangling himself in front of a growling beast, inviting it to devour him in exchange for attention, for kindness, for the bare minimum. Those sick games had always ended with him waking up alone, tethered to the headboard by some restraint, always feeling dirty and used, the bitter taste of false hope coating his tongue, because of course it didn't work that way; you couldn't bargain with predators and beg them to treat you like anything other than prey.

But of course it’s not like that with Pai, because Pai keeps proving him wrong.

And now Sky’s happy.

Happy.

No, he is more than happy – he’s giddy, elated in a disorienting, untethered way that is completely new to him. He takes a moment to stare at his shaking hands, at his fingers which have traversed every curve of Pai’s body, from the arch of his smile to the dip of his hips, the swell of his…

I’m yours.

A sound halfway between a gasp and a laugh escapes his lips as he turns the words over in his head.

I’m yours.

That’s what Pai had said, and okay, maybe that was just something that people said when they had had the sense kissed out of them; Sky had said something similar to Gun, once upon a time, and the man had used it against him for the rest of their farce of a relationship. But Pai had said the words differently, with an enthusiastic grin; he'd even guided Sky's hands over to his bare skin. He'd listened to and reciprocated every silly, needy claim Sky had made over him. It hadn't been too much, too desperate, too ugly.

It had to be too good to be true.

No.

Sky glares at his reflection as he shakes his head to banish the doubt before it can take root.

No.

Sky won’t do that to Pai. If Pai claims that he’s Sky’s, and if that is something he seriously believes, then Sky’s going to try his best to believe him, to reciprocate and give back, just like Pai has been doing this whole time: no more doubts, no more questions, no more holding back because he's afraid of being burnt. No more mistaking the cheerful warmth of a crackling hearth for a destructive inferno. He makes it out of the bath with renewed purpose and follows the clatter of cups and the whir of the coffee machine into the kitchen where…

Pai is at the kitchen stove, topless and showing off every muscle and love bite on his chest as he… flips an omelette?

“I made breakfast.” He declares when he catches sight of Sky. “And coffee! I wasn’t sure which pan to use…this one’s okay, right?”

Sky tries his best to divide his time between looking at the food and the chef, but he fails miserably. He can’t help it, his boyfriend looks more appetising than the food he’s cooked up.

His boyfriend. Sky thinks as he makes a beeline for the man by the stove and wraps his arms around his waist. He can feel Pai’s grin in his hair. “A hug? Is this because you love omelettes?”

“No.” Sky huffs into his chest, inhaling the other man’s scent, stealing his warmth to steel his own heart as he prepares to give away a part of it. “It’s because you’re mine.”

***

It’s because you’re mine.

That is not the admission Pai’s expecting when he asks Sky his breakfast preferences, and yet, here he is, with Sky hugging him of his own volition and staking a claim, for all intents and purposes.

How did they get here? Pai hasn’t the faintest idea about what he did to deserve – to achieve this sudden onslaught of open affection which had started when Sky had practically thrown himself at him the previous evening. Whatever it is, he’s going to have to figure it out, so he can do it again.

And again.

And again.

They share eggs and coffee at the kitchen counter, shoulder to shoulder, arms grazing whenever they lift a fork or pick up a mug.

At seven, Pai’s phone buzzes: a text from his sister, letting him know that Ben’s awake and looking for his Pa.

He texts back to let her know he’ll be back in time for breakfast.

“Ben?” Sky asks as he glances at Pai’s phone, downing the last of his coffee.

“Mhmm.” Pai nods. “He just woke up.” His screen lights up with another notification from his sister, undoubtedly something inappropriate that Pai wouldn’t dare to open in front of Sky, not before he’s been primed and prepared to deal with the menaces he’s forced to call his siblings. Sky stares curiously at his screen.

“Is that him?”

“Huh?”

Right, his wallpaper is a photo of him and Ben, and his son’s favourite shark plushie, the one he likes to throw at people. “Yeah.” Pai tilts his phone so Sky can get a better look. “That’s Ben.”

Sky examines the photo with interest. “He looks like you.” He mutters, his fingers hovering over his son’s mop of curly hair.

Pai peers at the photo, examining the details even though he’s seen it a million times at this point. “The shark? Yeah, we have the same smile.” That earns him an eye roll before Sky returns his attention to the photo.

“We bought that at the aquarium – he loves sharks.”

“And the colour blue…?” Sky hums as he scans the blue wall, the curtains, even Pai's shirt.

“My boyfriend's a genius.” Is all Pai says by way of an answer as he plants a kiss in Sky's hair.

“Hmm.” Sky returns the phone to him. “What else does he like to do?”

Pai runs the ever-growing list of his son's interests through his head. “Right now, he likes drawing and watching his Yaa bake.” Mainly, Pai suspects, because he gets to lick the spoon afterwards. He swipes to his gallery to show Sky another photo, this one of Ben trying to stuff a wooden spoon into his mouth.

Sky laughs as he zooms in. “That spoon's bigger than his mouth.”

“Well, he's confident and up for a challenge.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” Sky smirks as he spears egg onto his fork.

“Hmm.” It’s not in Pai’s nature to argue with the truth, but Sky’s words ferment into a new idea, one that sounds too excellent not to express. “Sky…would you like to meet Ben?”

The fork freezes mid-air, before it can make it to Sky’s mouth.

Fearing he sounds too forward, Pai tries to reel it in. “You've given me such an…extensive house tour–” His lips curl of their own accord as he remembers exactly what they did against the kitchen island last night. “ – let me do the same. Come to family lunch this weekend?”

“Lunch. You…” Sky blinks at him, unsure. “Want me to meet your family?”

“Yeah.” Pai nods. “I do.”

“I…” Sky bites his lower lip, and Pai is quick to assure him.

“It's just an idea, you don't have to –”

“No.” Sky overrides him. “I-I think I want to. They won't mind?”

And that makes Pai laugh, because he can't, in that moment, think of anything his family would mind less.

“What?” Suspicion seeps into Sky’s eyes as he points his fork at Pai, a warning.

“Nothing.” Pai rushes to appease him. “It’s…you’ll see. So you’ll come? To lunch?”

Wordlessly, Sky stacks their empty plates and deposits them to soak in the sink.

“Yeah.” He turns to face Pai, a shy smile breaking across his features. “Okay, I’ll come to lunch.”

***

Chapter Text

Prapai thinks he’s safe when he slips in through the main door without catching anyone’s attention. He doesn’t run into anybody in the living room. His father's study, situated adjacent to the living room, and his mother's sun room and library are also thankfully devoid of people. Good, everyone must still be in their rooms, distracted by the demands of another workday. His mother had that trust meeting today, his father’s probably already at work, and his siblings – well, he can handle them. He just has to get to Ben’s room, and then he’s safe: even if his siblings do want to interrogate him as to his whereabouts, they won’t be able to, not with Ben around.

Could he be accused of using his son as a shield? Yeah, maybe, but what is it they say about desperate times?

He gets caught just as he’s sneaking past the kitchen.

They’re all there, assembled around the kitchen island, cups of coffee in their hands and looking anything but distracted. Even Plerng’s somewhat awake, slumped over the marble countertop, his cup balancing precariously at his elbow, until their mother slides it over to a more secure position.

“You’re late.” Their father breaks the silence as he refills his mug. “Namtan told me I’d see you at home for our debrief. Yesterday.” His voice is devoid of any real reprimand, but Pai goes along with it.

“Sorry, Pa. There was an emergency; we can debrief now, or as soon as I’m back from dropping Ben.”

“I vote for now.” His sister chimes in.

“Me too.” Plerng shoots the room a thumbs-up, his face still glued to the cool marble surface.

“Majority wins.” Their mother declares with a shrug as she throws her firstborn to the wolves he unfortunately shares DNA with.

“You were out all night. All. Night.” Phan overenunciates the words for added emphasis, like Pai needs the reminder.

“Where’d you go?” Plerng waggles his eyebrows at him, and Pai suppresses the urge to bare his teeth.

“More importantly, what’d you do – Mae and Pa, close your ears, will you?” Their parents remain woefully uncooperative, deaf to Phan's request.

“I told you.” Pai glares at his siblings. “It was an emergency. Sky twisted his ankle –”

“Sky.” Phan smirks at him. “Is that his name? Sky?”

“Sky and Pai – their names rhyme.” Plerng smiles sweetly at him, the kind of syrupy smile that makes Pai want to douse him in a river’s worth of water, the holy kind, preferably. “Gross.”

“Children. Stop teasing.” Their mother steps in to restrain them. “Your brother just told us that his, uh, friend, sprained–”

“Twisted.” Their father interjects. “He twisted his ankle, and I believe he is more than a friend.”

“Sorry, you’re right.” Their mother carries on, her voice laced with barely suppressed mirth. “I’m glad you stayed the night and helped nurse him back to health.”

“Yeah, I’m sure phi chai was an excellent nurse.” Plerng gives him a once-over, his foxlike gaze settling on Pai’s chest. “Someone should nurse your shirt back to health. I think it needs a button transplant. One – two – three button transplants.”

“Oh, what’s this? P’Pai! Why’s your neck all red?” Phan’s eyes, brimming with false innocence, settle on the telltale mark on Pai’s neck. “Did you twist it?”

“Are you done?” Pai speaks as his family, every single one of them, even his usually stoic father, falls into a smirking silence.

“Not really.” His mother sips her coffee. “But I think I hear a shark down the hall.”

On cue, they hear the thump thump thump of determined, drowsy footsteps on the wooden floor. “Pa?”

“Here, Little Mouse,” Pai calls and Ben sticks his head into the kitchen, his eyes growing wider to accommodate the number of familiar faces around him. “Everyone’s having a party.” His son casts them a withering look. “Without me.”

“Without you?” Pai mirrors Ben’s wide-eyed expression of outrage. “Never.”

“Never ever.” His father affirms as he puts down his tablet and flashes his grandson the smile that he’s passed down to his children. “We can have a breakfast party after you’ve had your shower.”

“Deal?” His grandson repeats a word he’s heard far too often over the phone in this household.

“Deal.” The table repeats in unison.

“Come on.” Pai turns his now fully awake son by the shoulders. “Time to get ready for school.”

“I’ll do it.” His mother’s on her feet and nudging Ben out of his grip. “You look like you need a shower yourself.” She winks at him.

His siblings snort into their coffee.

“Funny, all of you.” Pai smirks back at them as he prepares the offensive. “Good, keep it up, and I’ll tell Sky not to come to Sunday lunch.”

It has the desired effect; his siblings freeze mid-ugly laughter, his mother grabs him by the wrist, and even his father looks like he might be compelled to put his reading down and look directly at Pai.

“He’s coming to Sunday lunch?” His mother tugs at his sleeve. She shoots a warning look at his siblings, scaring them into silence.

“I asked, and he said yes, but if you’re just going to tease him about his twisted ankle –” Pai shrugs casually. “I’ll just ask him not to come.”

“Prapai.” His mother glares at him, eyes blazing. “Don’t you dare.”

“I don’t know…” Prapai pushes on, even though his mum’s grip is nearing painful now, and that Ben’s fidgeting is pushing them steadily off balance. “These two…” He jabs his chin in the direction of his siblings. “...can’t be trusted.”

“Yes, we can!” Phan protests as she kicks Plerng under the table, who sighs like it hurts him to make promises that involve cooperating with his older brother. “Sure. Whatever. We’ll be nice, just not to you.” He concedes.

“An exception clause, you should have given law a go, son.” Their father shakes his head in faux disappointment; they all know that legal knowledge would make Plerng a dangerous weapon and throw the world into flames. “I think it’s the best deal you’re going to get.” The last part is addressed to Pai, who pretends to consider it a minute longer than is necessary.

“Fine.” He huffs. “Sky’s coming over for lunch this Sunday, and before you ask –” He turns to his mother. “I do have a list of what he likes, and I will share it with you. Actually, I’ll just do the cooking, Mae.”

“But –”

“You can handle dessert.” His mother accepts the compromise readily.

“Breakfast party!”

Only Ben has the power to snap them out of this petty family feud and propel them into action with a single phrase.

***

“Ivory or pearl?” Rain asks as he holds a shirt up against Sky’s chest.

“I am not buying a dress shirt,” Sky tells him for what is easily the fiftieth time that hour. The impromptu shopping trip – Sky’s idea this once — has turned Rain feral; the man insists on predicting the contents of Sky's shopping list.

“Okay, no dress shirts.” Rain returns them to their rack. “So what are we shopping for? Is it a gala? Are you going to a conference – don’t tell me!” He grabs at Sky’s arm. “Is the faculty giving you an award? Already? Not that you don’t deserve it, it’s just…” Rain trails off as Sky shakes his head, failing to hide the fond smile on his face. “You’re smiling. Are you smiling, Sky? About shopping?”

“Maybe.” Sky agrees as he walks down the aisle, leaving to catch up.

“What’s the occasion?” Rain asks again as they stop to look at t-shirts.

Sky’s had time to think about it this morning, between classes, of what to tell his best friend. He’s decided on a ‘rip the bandaid off approach’ – best to get it out of the way, preferably here in a public space so someone can step in to help if Rain tries to smother him out of excitement.

“P’Pai invited me to lunch with his family.”

“He – what?” Sky can see his friend's heart stutter and restart in real time. “Why would he do that?”

Sky braces himself as he answers that one.

“Because he's my,uh, boyfriend.”

“He — WHAT?” Rain yells loud enough to call the attention of half the floor. The patrons closest to them throw them looks ranging from suspicion to curiosity.

Sky takes that as his cue to slink further down the aisle to where the socks are.

“Sorry. “ Rain is at his shoulder again, quieter but still frantic. “What?”

“Which of those words are you having trouble with?” Sky suppresses the grin as his best friend pouts at him.

“Sky.” Rain shoots daggers at him, as much as it is possible for Rain to do so.

“Sorry.” Sky isn’t, not really, but he suspects his best friend might actually throttle him if he doesn’t give him the details. “It’s – yeah, we’re dating.”

“Traitor.” The word loses its bite because Rain is beaming. “You have to tell me everything. When did this start? Was it after you showed up at my place…” Rain counts on his fingers. “...Sky! That was, like, four months ago! You – I – you – what?”

Resignedly, Sky adds a pair of socks to the basket in his hand and uses the other to steer Rain towards the checkout counter.

“Those aren’t really your style.” Rain squints at the cartoon patterns against the blue background. “But – hang on! – you – P’Pai — what?”

Sky knew it would take Rain a while to put it all together – he can’t really judge, though, considering how long it took him to reach that conclusion himself. Sky might be a lot of things, but he’s not a hypocrite. “Come on,” He drapes an arm across his friend’s shoulder. “Let’s get something to eat.”

Rain struggles with the proposal, torn between wanting to hold his friend hostage in the sock aisle and the prospect of a snack. “Fine. My treat, if you agree to tell me everything.”

“Deal.”

***

Sunday.

Sky’d be lying if he said he wasn’t having second thoughts.

This is a bad idea.

Meeting Pai’s family? This soon? Even if it is just lunch, there are expectations. What if Sky can’t meet them? What if he’s not good enough, or rich enough, or smart enough, or handsome enough, or something else enough, because God knows there’s plenty wrong with him…

…what if they see right through him and slam the door in his face?

It’s very unlikely, knowing who Pai is, what he’s like.

But still…

What if they hate him?

His phone buzzes in his hand: a message from Pai to let him know he’s downstairs. Sky gives his appearance a once-over in the mirror. Pai said it would be casual, but he’s still wearing a collared shirt over his jeans, and he’s washed his hair, and although Pai said not to bother, he’s bought a bouquet of flowers for his mother.

It’s fine, it’ll be fine.

“Hi, handsome.” Pai slides across to peck him on the cheek once Sky’s strapped in next to him. “You look so good.” He stares appreciatively at the blue shirt, the fluffy hair, the Converse shoes.

Pai himself is dressed in a black t-shirt and khaki pants, his hair swept to one side, a chunky pair of rubber slippers on his feet.

So he really did mean ‘casual’.

“I’m overdressed.” Sky stares in dismay at his pressed shirt.

“Nonsense.” Pai shakes his head. “You’re perfect.”

Sky's certain that Pai would say that even if he showed up in a garbage bag, with a banana peel for a hat.

Sky realises that the clothes are the least of his problems, when, twenty minutes later, Pai declares that they’re home.

Sky knows, has gleaned from conversations that Pai lives with his family, that he shares the house with his parents and siblings and that they're fairly well-off. Still, he’s expecting a modest bungalow, tucked away in a nice street in one of the quieter neighbourhoods of Bangkok. What he gets instead is this – a cross between a mansion and a palace, accessed by a winding driveway that cuts through an expanse of a pristinely maintained lawn. Sky spots a greenhouse at one end, and what looks like a sprawling garden, complete with a lotus pond and a pergola at the other.

“We’re here.” Pai declares, as if it weren’t already abundantly clear. "Ready?”

Sky absolutely isn't, but it’s too late now to run away. Besides, he’s sure the main gate that just slid shut behind them works on face recognition.

***

Their fingers entwined, Pai leads them through the front door and into a space that looks like it was made for the wealthy, disproving, politically-connected parents of a main character in a TV drama. Sky’s hold on Pai’s hand tightens as he looks around warily for a fur-clad woman armed with wads of cash and a death glare.

“Prapai? Is that you?”

Instead of an evil TV parent, they are greeted by a middle-aged woman in a striped linen dress. Dark-haired and round-faced, her manner is too similar to his boyfriend’s for this to be anyone other than his mother.

Prapai. The name rings in Sky’s ears and pulls him under for a moment. All these months of getting to know him, and Sky never even bothered to find out what Pai was short for. He doesn’t even know Pai’s name, and here he is, being introduced to his family.

It’s too soon. He’s not ready. Not good –

“And you must be Sky.” He snaps back to the present at the sound of his name. Sky swallows the lump in his throat and forces a smile onto his face before he wais politely in response.

“Sky.” Pai’s voice grounds him as he wraps an arm around Sky’s waist. “This is my mother, Lily.”

Sky wais again, this time with an added greeting as he finds his voice. “Thank you for having me over, Khun Lily.”

“Please.” Pai’s mother smiles as she steps closer. “Call me Mae.” She waves off the formalities as she takes Sky’s hand in hers. “Practically everyone else in this house does. It’s so nice to finally meet you, Sky.”

Finally meet him? She makes it sound like they’ve known about him for a while, like Pai hasn’t been secretive about him...

Of course he hasn’t. This is Pai, his Pai, the man who has openly admitted that he would weld himself to Sky’s side if he could.

The thought steadies him, and this time, the smile flows across his face more easily as he thanks Khun Lily – mae – again.

“These are for you — mae.” He presents her with the bouquet, almost five hundred per cent sure now that he’s not going to be bludgeoned with them.

Pai’s mother accepts the flowers with unbridled enthusiasm.

“Oh, these are lovely! I’ve never seen carnations this size, and so saturated in their colour! Look at the petals on this one!” She beams as she compliments the flowers, like Sky grew them himself, like there isn’t a miniature botanical garden on the other side of the main door.

Sky sees where Pai gets it from.

“Mae!” A male voice calls down the corridor. “Are they here yet?”

Sky might be imagining it, but he feels Pai’s grip around his waist tighten. He casts a sideways glance at him — is that a grimace? Sky looks back just in time to see a young man with bleached hair sauntering down the corridor like he owns the place. A baggy — satin?? — shirt hangs off his lean frame, and like Sky, he too wears jeans, although his are ripped and acid-washed and shiny somehow. He stops in his tracks when he sees them, his eyes travelling from Pai to Sky, to the hand on Sky’s waist.

“You’re going to squeeze him to death.” The man glares at Prapai.

“I am not.” Pai counters, training those stupid brown eyes on Sky as he looks for approval. “Am I, Sky?”

“I–uh– I’m fine.” Sky rushes to his boyfriend’s defense.

The other man hmms, sounding entirely unconvinced. “You’re cute.” He says out of nowhere.

“I–” Sky scrambles to find an answer.

“He is. Very.” Pai answers for him instead. The man pretends like he’s not even there as he continues to smirk at Sky.

“You sure you want to date my pig-faced –”

“Plerng!” The man – Plerng – groans as a woman emerges from the room to his right and locks an arm around his neck. “We promised we would behave. C’mon.”

Plerng mutters something about exceptions as the woman beams brightly as Sky.

“Ignore him. Hi!” She waves using the hand not currently constricting Plerng’s windpipe. “I’m Phan, this is Plerng– I’m sure our brother’s told you all about how amazing we are.”

The siblings – Sky remembers some of the adjectives that Pai’s used for them– feral, rabid, weird.

He chooses not to answer the question, which is answer enough because Phan shrugs in resignation. “He probably told you we were mental, fair enough.” She glances over at her mother, at the flowers in her hand.

“Ooh, pretty carnations! Let me put those in water for you, Mae, I’ll come find you in the living room.”

The living room is the size of Sky’s flat, furnished in earth tones, its walls decorated with canvases of mountainscapes, the artwork accentuated with perfectly-trimmed bonsai.

“Mae painted those.” Pai tells him as Sky looks around at the frames on the wall. “And Plerng did the plants. Sky’s an architect.” He tells his family. “He teaches at the university.” And then, to Sky’s astonishment, Pai prattles off a list of Sky’s academic interests and accomplishments, with an accuracy that Sky’s not sure even he could muster. He vaguely remembers mentioning these facts about him in passing, sandwiched between jabs about Pai’s nosiness. He had no idea Pai had them filed away this diligently, it’s – well, it’s… Sky’s not sure what the word is for it, he just knows that it helps, wipes away the final wisps of doubt that have been lurking in his mind, keeping him on his toes.

Pai’s mother and brother listen intently to Pai, ask Sky questions like they’re genuinely interested to find out more about him – does he like his job? What’s his favourite kind of space to design? Does he miss working in the field? Would he like to come to an art exhibition they were planning on going to next month?

With every answer, Sky finds himself relaxing into the sofa, enjoying himself even, dare he say it.

He’s halfway through a glass of lemonade and a conversation about his interests– Pai’s mum is gentler, but just as inquisitive as he is — when they are joined again by Phan, and an older man, so strikingly similar to Pai in appearance that he can only be his father.

And hiding behind him, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as they survey Sky…

“Benny.” Pai shifts next to him, arm outstretched as he beckons to the child peeking from behind his grandfather’s leg. “Do you want to come say hi?”

***

Sky makes polite conversation with his mother, even stands up to wai to his father.

He’s just so adorable, it takes everything he’s got for Pai to restrain himself from squishing Sky and telling him just how adorable he is, repeatedly, incessantly, until he turns that lovely shade of pink that looks so good on him.

Pai already knows they love him, his mother’s two breaths away from asking him to move in so they can discuss colour theory with each other; Pai’s siblings keep smirking at him, but this time, there is approval in those smirks, like they see what he sees, like they understand. Even his father’s eyes are resolutely fixed on Sky as he listens attentively to every word of the story Sky’s telling about a project he worked on in college.

That makes the two of them.

A sharp tug at his sleeve has Pai looking to his right, where Ben is restlessly trying to steal a look at Sky, retreating behind Pai to curl up into his side any time he makes eye contact.

They had spoken about it earlier in the day, when Ben had helped him toss the salad.

“Benny.” Pai had snuck a carrot from the bowl Ben was mixing, which had forced Ben to look up at him, eyebrows knitted in disapproval at the theft. “Remember how I told you we had a special guest for lunch today? Aa Sky?”

“Pa did a date and Pa’s new friend is coming to lunch.” Ben had recited diligently – he really was so smart, just like his mother.

“Right.” Pai had agreed with him, “Well, I was wondering…” He’d added chopped beans to the bowl and showed Ben how to mix those in. “If you would like to come say hi to him.”

Ben had considered the question as he’d stabbed the lettuce leaves with the wooden fork.

“Okay.” He had nodded after a minute of mulling the proposition over in his head.

***

The little head peeks out from behind Pai for the hundredth time, and Sky smiles at the child just like he has every time Ben has caught his eye.

It’s not difficult – Ben is so endearing, his big eyes brimming with questions as he follows Sky’s every move, retreating like a spooked fawn every time he realises Sky can see him. Twice, he climbs into Pai’s lap and contemplates breaching the boundary to get a closer look at Sky. Twice, he changes his mind and returns to his safe space behind his father’s back.

On the third go, Ben finally musters the courage to settle into Pai’s lap. With his head leaning against Pai’s chest and his hands wrapped around Pai’s forearm, he finally looks up at Sky.

“Hi, Ben.” Sky smiles softly at the fidgety boy. “My name is Sky. It’s nice to meet you.” Sky stays still as those inquisitive eyes travel from the top of Sky’s head to the tips of his toes, where they settle on his socks, to the grinning fish swimming across the blue fabric.

“Hello.” Ben says, finally, with a shy smile lighting up his face. “Do you like sharks?”

***

“Can I help with anything?” Sky asks a quarter of an hour later when mae finally declares that it is time to eat.

“I’m afraid I don’t know. You’ll have to ask the chef.” Mae winks at him, like she knows something he doesn’t.

“Yeah, I could do with some help.” Pai gets to his feet and bumps Sky on the shoulder. “Everyone else.” He lifts his son off his lap and whirls him around, making the boy giggle. “Go wash your shark fins until they’re squeaky clean.”

“Oh, we will.” His sister nods earnestly.

“We’ll take extra-long.” Plerng agrees in a stage whisper.

Sky really hopes he’s not as red as he feels.

“Ignore those two.” Pai whispers at him, equally loud. “After a while, their words are just noise. You’ll get used to it.”

“Sounds like someone I know.” Sky retorts before he can help it.

“Hey!” Pai fights to keep the grin off his face while his siblings laugh openly, Plerng even claps.

“Oh, I like him.” Phan winks at Sky like they’ve known each other forever, like they’ve always been friends.

Sky can’t say he doesn’t feel the same way.

***

They get ten minutes to themselves in the kitchen and adjoining dining area, and Pai decides to make the most of what he has. His arms snake around Sky’s waist as he turns him around so they’re face to face.

“My Sky…” His tone is soft and measured, his eyes crinkled around the corners in the way that makes it impossible for Sky to look at him without blushing. Then, without warning, Pai kisses him on the nose, the cheek, the forehead.

“P’Pai!” Sky swats at him, not willing to be caught kissing his boyfriend in the family home, over the food they’re supposed to share. “Behave.”

“Did you buy those shark socks on purpose?” Pai pulls away, his arms still around Sky, his gaze pointed down to the man’s feet. “Or did you just happen to have them in your cupboard all this time?”

“I –” Sky looks down at his feet, at the mosaic of smiling sharks that adorn his feet. “ – I just wanted him to like me.”

When he finally works up the courage to look up, despite the burning in his cheeks, he finds Pai staring at him like Sky's just revealed his secret identity as a superhero. Noiselessly – which is a rarity — Pai pulls him into a hug, and Sky has no choice but to wrap his arms around the other to keep his balance.

“You’re so sweet, my Sky. You’re going to kill me with how sweet you are. ”

“I’m going to kick you.” Sky corrects as he tries half-heartedly to extract himself from the man’s embrace and get down to doing what they’re here to do. “Did you really make all this food?” Sky counts five dishes, and a salad, and the rice in the cooker.

Pai nods. “Why? Are you impressed that I can cook?”

That has a little something to do with it, Sky supposes. “I don’t know that it's not just five flavours of instant noodles.” He says instead.

“Ha. Funny.” Pai pouts at him, and Sky tries to look anywhere but at his face. “I’ll show you all my skills, just you wait.”

Sky is saved from answering by a rap at the sliding glass door, followed by Plerng’s voice. “Are you two decent in there?” He waits five seconds, long enough for Sky to push Pai half an inch away from him before he saunters in.

“Don’t mind me.” He picks up the lid on a bowl. “I’m just here to microwave everything because I know phi’s too distracted. His brain wasn’t made for multitasking, you know.” He flashes Sky a bright smile, another copy of the one Pai wears. “Contrary to what he tells you, I am a good brother, and I’m way smarter than him. Carry on.” He turns his back on them as he busies himself with the microwave.

“Don’t believe a word of what he says.” Pai whispers to Sky. “He’s only being nice because handsome men are his weakness– ow!” He hisses as Sky nudges him in the ribs.

“I’ll carry these to the table, P’Plerng.” He joins Pai’s scheming, conniving, fox-faced brother at the microwave.

“Thanks, Sky.” Plerng dares to wink at Pai from across the room.

It’s just teasing, Pai knows this, still, he’d like very much to smack Plerng across the head.

They settle down at the lunch table, to dig into a lunch of rice, curry and salad, with sides of stir-fry and fish cakes. It smells good and tastes even better and Sky can finally accept that yes, he is very impressed with Pai’s culinary skills. He’ll save the compliment for later; right now, Sky’s attention is taken up by watching the way Pai tends to his son.

They’re so alike, so animated in their movements, so open in their expressions that it’s like watching a synchronised dance.

“Try it like this,” Pai spears fish cake onto a fork which he then dips into the curry. “Aa Plerng only eats his fish like this, doesn’t he?”

“I do.” Plerng singsongs from across the table as he holds up his own fork to demonstrate.

Ben considers the option, then turns his attention to Sky’s plate, at his fish cakes, which Sky’s sliced into three and drizzled with the sweet chilli sauce.

“I want to try it like that.” The boy huffs. “Like Aa Sky.”

Sandwiched between the two of them, Pai’s gaze shifts from his son’s plate to Sky’s and back again. “You want to try it with the chilli sauce? And chopsticks?” His son nods.

“Okay, we’ll try a little bit. Here, let me show you how to cut the pieces.”

It only escalates from there; Ben wants to try his curry like Aa Sky, spear his beans like Aa Sky, drink his water like Aa Sky, and when it’s time for dessert, Ben decides he no longer needs his father as a buffer between him and Sky. He waits for Pai to vacate his seat when he joins his mother in the kitchen to help bring out the blueberry cheesecake, before sliding into it. He turns sideways to face Sky, and holds out his hand, palm up.

“Can you do this?”

“I…think so?” Sky mirrors the movement and Ben smiles his approval.

Opposite them, the siblings exchange a knowing look.

Pai swears he’s only been gone five minutes, if that, and yet he returns to a completely different version of the lunch table. For starters, his seat has been usurped by his son who is now tracing circles into Sky’s outstretched palm.

“Hmmm…” Sky bites his lower lip as he thinks. “Is it…the sun?”

“No!” Ben giggles, a mischievous glint in his eyes, which, to everyone else in the room, means that the answer is closer than he thinks.

“Oh…” Sky looks thoughtfully at his palm. “Then…is it the moon?”

“Yes!” Ben claps his hands as he sinks back into the chair, nearly hitting his head on the wooden backing, but Sky is quick to slide his hand behind the boy’s head before it can make contact with the hard surface.

“We’re playing the hand game.” Phan tells him as Pai slides into Ben’s vacated seat. “N’Ben is winning.”

“A tree!” Ben declares as Sky finishes tracing a squiggle on his tiny palm. “Another, another!” Sky obliges and Ben frowns at the new shape on his hand. “Is it…a tie-yan- gill?”

“Close.” Sky nods. “It’s a food that’s shaped like a triangle.”

“Ummm…” The boy looks around for clues and pauses at the glass dish in front of them. “Chee – is—cake?”

“Right!” Sky claps for him. “It’s a slice of cheesecake! That was good detective work, Ben.”

“I’m very smart.” Ben agrees with him, his eyes twinkling at the praise. “Pa.” He turns to Pai, tugging at his jeans once, then twice when Pai doesn’t respond right away.”Pa!”

“Mhmm?” Pai finds his voice, disentangles it from where it’s stuck in his throat.

“Can I cut the cake with Aa Sky?”

“Huh?” Pai looks between his son and Sky, to where the boy’s small hand is wrapped around Sky’s long fingers; he doesn’t think he could say no even if he wanted to.

Pai hands the knife over to Sky and for the next ten minutes, watches as the two people to his right get to work cutting and distributing the final course of the day.

He feels a foot poke his shin. His eyes travel to the other side of the table in search of the culprit: his siblings are too distracted by Ben, and his father’s helping Sky with the plates, only his mother remains seated across from him, a soft, knowing smile on her face.

Pai returns it; the catch in his throat shifts a notch, enough to make breathing a little easier.

***

Four people wave goodbye to Sky and Pai as they walk out to the car later that day, closer to dinner time than lunch. One child sleeps curled up in his grandfather’s arms, exhausted after a day of explaining games and drawing doodles on paper and presenting stacks of them to his new friend as a gift.

“I like him.” Pai’s mother declares as the car drives out the main gate. “A lot.”

“Me too.” Phan agrees. Her father hums approvingly next to her, sweeping a hand over the sleeping boy’s head.

“I don’t.” Plerng huffs, although there is no real malice in his voice. “He’s going to be Ben’s new favourite person.”

“He already is.” Their father corrects him. “I think we’ve given away more drawings today than we have all year.”

“Oh, cheer up!” Phan flings an arm around Plerng’s shoulder. “Don’t pretend like he’s not your favourite too, I saw how you listened to him talk about his building projects.” It’s true, Plerng hadn’t minded having another creative person at the lunch table, speaking a language he understood, devoid of the jargon around affidavits and suo moto cognisance, and the other gibberish his siblings and his parents bonded over.

“Fine.” Plerng shrugs. “I like him.”

***

Chapter Text

Sky smiles at the pile of drawings in his lap, an assortment of shapes and letters and crayon versions of all the things they drew on each other’s hands at the lunch table. Stacked like this, they feel like a prize, a herald to a victory, which Sky thinks it was. He thinks Pai agrees with him. Thinks, because the man hasn’t even looked at him since Sky waved goodbye to his family, let alone talk.

That's the third time he's been this silent in the car. This time, Sky manages to keep the panic at bay. He knows Pai better now, well enough to identify the root cause behind his sudden lapse into silence.

“Are you thinking of Ben?” He breaks the silence in the car.

“Mhm.” Pai’s response is clipped. Sky waits for more.

“Actually, I was thinking of you too,” Pai admits after a beat.

“Me?” Sky raises his eyebrows. Pai’s never been shy about voicing his thoughts about Sky out loud, it's what makes him so aggravating, the fact that the man doesn't miss an opportunity to tell Sky how perfect he is, how smart he is, how nice he smells, how handsome he looks when he's glaring at Pai and threatening bodily harm. He’s heard them all at this point, even the ones that make Sky want to hide in his duvet and never emerge from the sheets again.

“You.” Pai repeats as they stop in front of Sky’s flat. ”Walk you to your door?”

He’s even quieter in the lift, content to just hold hands instead of engaging his human shawl tendencies and draping himself around Sky like he usually does. Suspicious.

“P’Pai.”

Nothing.

“P’Pai!” Sky injects more urgency into his voice. The man next to him remains unreceptive as he leans heavily against the side of the lift.

“Khun Prapai!” Sky uses the name he’s learnt that day as he wrests his hand out of Pai’s grip without warning. The loss of contact drags Pai back to the present.

“What did I do?” He stares open-mouthed at Sky, surprise evident in those ridiculous, big, wounded eyes of his. “Why’d you say my name like that?”

The truth is, it’s because he’s trying to commit the name to memory, to make up for the fact that he didn’t know, that he didn’t try to find out, didn't ask, when Pai knows so much about him. Well, Sky’s going to catch up to him, going to surpass him – he didn’t top his university for nothing. He’s going to know more about Pai than even Pai does, but he can’t do that when his boyfriend’s busy trying to merge into the stainless steel of the lift.

“You went all quiet on me.” Sky glares at him.

“Did I?” His tone suggests that he’s on the verge of doing it again. This won’t do.

The lift dings to announce Sky’s floor.

“Come on.” Sky grabs him by the arm and manhandles him into the corridor. Pai allows himself to be dragged to Sky’s door, barrelling into him in an uncoordinated tangle of limbs when Sky stops to let them in.

“You’re heavy.” Sky complains.

That Pai doesn’t counter this in any way is another reason to worry.

“Here.” Sky wraps an arm around Pai’s waist and leads him into the flat.

“Sit.” He pushes him unceremoniously onto the sofa. “Drink.” He commands as he holds out a glass of water. Prapai blinks at the glass before taking it from him. “Move.” Again, Pai looks up at him, confused, like he’s speaking a different language. Then the request registers and he shifts to make room for Sky.

If he’s able to humour Sky…

“Talk.” Sky tries as he takes Pai’s hand in his own. It’s not as clear-cut an instruction as the others, so he elaborates. “What’s on your mind, P’Pai? Did you not have a good day?” Sky doubts it – he can’t see a single issue with the day, and he’d spent the morning running through every worst-case scenario, and as far as he can tell, they had steered clear of all of them.

Next to him, Pai tries to comply; he opens his mouth to speak, but only manages to look like a fish out of water, gasping for air and struggling to make sense of his own predicament. He looks surprised at his inability to form words as he continues to stare at Sky, growing more miserable by the minute as he fails to articulate and answer the simple question.

Eventually, he just shakes his head and stares helplessly at Sky.

Sky stifles the urge to laugh at his boyfriend's subdued outrage. With a sigh, he leans over to wrap his arms around Pai's shoulders. It takes a few seconds, but Pai finally sags into him with a soft exhale. Sky adjusts their posture so he’s leaning against the sofa arm, and Pai’s head can rest on his chest.

“P’Pai.” Sky repeats his name in a low hum, as he brushes his fingers through the man’s shiny raven hair. “I think…” He massages his boyfriend’s temples, revelling in the way the simple movement makes Pai’s eyelids flutter. “...you’re a little overwhelmed.”

Pai’s breath stills as Sky continues to play with his hair. “Yeah.” He sighs finally. “Maybe a little.” There is a petulant edge to his voice, like he can’t believe this would happen to him.

“It’s okay.” Sky soothes him. “I’ve been there.”

This earns him a wide-eyed look as Pai twists around to look up at him. “You’re fine.” A shadow of a pout paints his features, and for that, Sky is thankful. “You’re not even red around the ears.” Pai huffs.

Damn this man and his observational skills.

“Not today.” Sky agrees as he twirls a strand of dark hair between his fingers, thinking back to the last time he hadn’t been able to hear his own heartbeat, thanks to the din of all the thoughts flooding his mind. “But every other day.” If it comes out sounding like a confession, it’s because it is. Sky’s mind is an armoured fortress, a prison for his deepest thoughts, because Sky can’t afford to let them escape into the real world, where they might make him do stupid things.

But right now, staying quiet would be the stupid thing to do.

“Our first date. I felt like I couldn’t breathe all night.” Sky admits in a voice that is only one breath away from a whisper.

Pai cranes his neck to look up at him, his brow knitted in confusion. “Why not?” He kicks his legs up on the sofa and adjusts his position until his head is in Sky’s lap. “Was it because of that idiot?”

Sky shakes his head; he hadn’t even thought about the nuisance after they’d done away with him. “It was because I couldn’t believe how well it had gone, that you still wanted –” Sky clears his throat as he pushes past the final sentence. “ — to see me again, and ––.” He smiles as Pai rights himself momentarily to plant a light kiss on Sky’s lips. “ — because I was happy.” He finishes once they break apart.

And that had been it, really, the reason why he’d been so terrified, because the happiness had felt like a trap, a deceptively peaceful prelude to a relentless storm. In a way, Sky had gotten caught up in the storm; he’d been buffeted around by razor-sharp winds and had his life turned upside down, his plan for himself thrown completely off-course.

It had been the best thing to have happened to him.

Sky traces the line of Pai’s jaw with his fingers as the man continues to look at him. “Would it help if I told you I had a really good day?” He bends to place a fleeting kiss on the man’s forehead. “That I really liked your family?” He smiles at the way Pai looks like a deer stuck in headlights, eyes growing wider and more frantic with every confession. “That I really liked meeting Ben?” A strangled squeak escapes Pai’s lips, and he looks like it hurts him to not be able to smile – gloat — at the confession like he usually would.

“It’s okay.” Sky tells him as he hugs him close again, Pai’s hands return to their predictable place around Sky’s waist as he nuzzles into Sky’s stomach. “You can smile about it tomorrow.”

Pai sighs what sounds like agreement as Sky goes back to playing with his hair.

“Better?” Sky asks when Pai tucks his legs under him and nuzzles deeper into Sky’s warmth.

Pai hums an answer that Sky takes to mean yes.

“Sky.” Pai’s fingers brush Sky’s cheekbones with a languid clumsiness that makes it obvious that he’s fighting sleep.

“Mhm?” Sky's own eyes are heavier than they should be for this time of day.

“Next time you feel like you can't breathe, will you come to me?”

Three months ago, Sky would have dismissed the request, perfectly content with fighting his thoughts on his own, pushing them to the very back of his mind before anyone could ask him why he looked like he was falling apart. Three months ago, Sky probably would have told Pai to mind his own business and focus on himself. Now, looking down at Pai, his head on Sky's lap and his arms thrown around his waist, Sky can’t imagine not telling him.

The thought scares him first: the head of hair on his lap blurs around the edges, and Sky has to touch to make sure it’s actually there, that this isn’t an illusion. Pai hums in his sleep. The sound is an anchor; it keeps Sky from drifting away in the deluge, makes him want to fight, to hold on. To himself, to Pai, to this.

“Yeah.” He whispers to a now-asleep Pai. “I will.”

***

Chapter Text

“Try this.” Pai slides a steaming mug of coffee towards Sky, careful to manoeuvre around the drawings arranged on their cafe table. Sky doesn’t look up from his work as he lifts the mug to his lips and takes a sip.

“Mmm. What’s in it?” He flips a page. “Caramel? Almond?”

It’s impressive, really, how great Sky is at guessing the ingredients of the concoctions Pai orders for him at the cafe. In fact, Pai’s pretty sure there’s not a single thing Sky isn’t great at. Coffee tasting, gardening, teaching, picking out movies for them to watch, kissing, the thing that usually follows the kissing… No, Pai shakes his head. Not the time.

“That's two out of three. Get the third one right and I'll give you a kiss.” Pai bats his eyelashes at the man, as Sky finally looks up at him, his lips set in a thin line of disapproval. Pai pretends he doesn't see the little upward twitch of his mouth.

He looks at the second mug, the one at Pai's elbow and picks it up before Pai can offer it to him. He takes a sip.

“Mint.” He takes another, and Pai does his best not to stare. He fails, of course.

“I want this one instead.” He switches their mugs around, depositing the caramel almond biscotti latte in front of Pai. “What?” He quirks an eyebrow at Pai, who looks like someone hit pause on him with a remote.

It’s just that, well, Sky’s different.

Not in a bad way, never that. Just, he’s different, in the way that he reaches out to Pai of his own accord, how he orders for them at the cafe, even makes plans for them. Plans – he even explains the architectural plans he works on during lunch some days, answers Pai’s questions about his designs, instead of rolling his eyes and trying to deflect. Sometimes he even accepts Pai's compliments, instead of trying to shrug them off.

And now Sky’s helping himself to Pai’s coffee and saying he likes it more than his own.

Sky’s different, and it makes Pai’s heart sing.

“It’s fine if you don’t want to,” Sky reaches for the mug again. “I’ll switch back.”

“No!” Pai blocks the move by cupping his hands around the mug in front of him. “You already gave this to me. I’m going to drink this.” He takes an exaggerated sip of the almond-caramel-triple-double-whatever latte. “Drink the mint.”

With a shrug, Sky goes back to his drawings.

Speaking of drawings…

Pai digs around in his bag and brings out the drawing he’s been tasked with protecting with his life.

“Here.” He slides it across, the bright blue and pink in stark contrast against the crisp black ink on Sky’s sheet.

“It’s a leopard shark.” He was also ordered to convey that part. “But with pink spots.”

Sky lifts the painting with slender fingers to admire it more closely. “The dots are so equally placed, and he used two, no, three, shades of blue.”

Pai watches on, his expression a mix of pride and awe as Sky slides the sheet carefully into the folder where all his drawings live. It’s a predictable pattern at this point; any time Pai presents Sky with one of his son’s drawings, they’re treated better than Renaissance art at an auction house.

Finally, Sky looks at him, not bothering to mask the smile he wears – another welcome change. “Will you tell him I said thank you?”

“Tell him yourself.” Prapai puts on his most persuasive expression, which, for Sky, involves widening his eyes until they will widen no more - yeah, he’s been paying attention. “Come over for dinner? It’ll just be us. I promise I won’t let mae kidnap you and hold you hostage in the garden —”

“I liked repotting those begonias.” Sky interrupts him. It really had been a lovely, breezy weekend afternoon spent tending to the plants in the greenhouse, which was the joint domain of Pai’s mother and Plerng.

“You looked really good with all that mud streaked across your face.” Really, he’s ridiculous. It had been one streak from when Sky had accidentally touched his cheek, unaware of the fact that his boyfriend would initiate theatrics in response to a singular smidge of earth, likening him to a forest nymph, among other things.

“Come over for dinner.” Pai reiterates. Then, because he’s him, Pai waggles his eyebrows and lowers his voice until it is a conspiratorial rumble. “I’ll drop you home if I can’t charm you into bed… ow!’

Sky has not retired the kick from his arsenal; that much has not changed.

“Okay.”

***

It’s not just the three of them at dinner. Prapai’s siblings are stretched out on the living room sofas, scrolling on their phones and having a disjointed conversation about someone they knew in school. Ben is sprawled out on his stomach on the carpet between them, his brow furrowed as he tries to complete a jigsaw puzzle.

“Oh, you’re back.” Plerng looks up from his phone, the scowl on his face melting away into a wide grin when he spots Sky over his brother's shoulder. “And you brought Sky!”

“Hi, P’Plerng.” Sky smiles politely at the man that Pai claims is part-gremlin. “Phan.”

“Aa Sky!” The boy smiles the widest as he hurls himself at Sky, his arms wrapping, with much difficulty, halfway around Sky’s waist.

“Hi, Ben. How are you?”

Sky taps the child's shoulder in greeting.

“Where’s my hello?” Pai's question is ignored as Ben tries his best to burrow into Sky’s leg. His siblings snort at the rejection.

“Join the club.” Plerng pats the space next to him, a jubilant smirk on his face. “Your angel-faced boyfriend is sneakily stealing all our crowns.”

“Don’t mind him, P’Sky.” Phan interjects. “He’s just jealous.”

“I am.” Plerng admits with a grin.

"He is right about the angel face, though."

"He's my angel-faced boyfriend." Pai feels the need to intervene.

“Aa Sky!” Ben is animated again as he pushes away from Sky and tugs at his shirt, asking Sky to follow him to where his puzzle lies on the carpet.

“Bennie!” Pai tries in vain to catch his son’s attention. “Let Aa Sky go wash his ha–”

“It’s fine.” Sky interrupts with a smile as he settles down next to Ben, ready to assist in the puzzle reassembly project. Ben gets to work handing him puzzle pieces and telling him where to put what.

Who is Pai to get between the two of them?

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and instinctively, Pai reaches for it.

“You’re glaring.” Phan is the first to notice. “Is it the Kim case?” Ah yes, his newest headache at work.

“Spam.” Pai shoves the phone in his pocket and returns to the present. “Weren’t you two going out?” He joins his siblings on the couch, watching over his son as he bosses his boyfriend around.

“Change of plans.” Phan smirks at him.

“Unless you needed the house to yourselves…?” Plerng runs a hand through his hair as he crosses one leg over the other. “We could be persuaded to leave…hey!” He glares at his sister when she jabs him with her toe.

“I told you.” Phan tells him, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We only tease him when P’Sky’s not around.” She turns back to the two men on the other side of the room. “I thought we could order P -I -Z - Z -A.” Phan spells out the word for Ben’s benefit.

Pai looks at Sky, who nods. Pizza sounds good. He turns to the child leaning against Sky’s arm. “Did you finish your fruit, mister?”

“Ya!” Ben declares, not bothering to look up as he guides Sky's hands to the piece he wants to try next.

So pizza it is.

His siblings uncork a bottle of wine and split it between themselves when both Pai and Sky turn down a glass. The conversation moves from more questions about Sky – what he teaches, who his most annoying students are, does that professor that hated Plerng still work there, to questions about what he’s reading and what he’s watching. Sky answers them easily, even joins in on a conversation about a reality show they’re all watching.

“It’s just – those houses look like no one should live in them!”

“Right?”

“Plerng keeps saying they all need better gardens.”

Then they move to a more dangerous subject.

“Has P’Pai told you about the time he set his hair on fire?”

“Oh, oh, or about that time he got chased by a family of angry geese?”

“Or when he discovered guyliner in secondary school.”

“Or –” Phan smirks deviously at the thought. “ — the time he – uh, how do I put this nicely– ‘networked’ so hard at an internship event, he didn't even come home to say bye to us before he ran off to spend a semester in London–?”

“Ugh!” Plerng throws an arm across his face. “Don't remind me. I had to listen to mae lecture us on responsibility because he put her on loudspeaker in my shoebox of a flat – he's the worst roommate, Sky, you should know that about him. And also –”

“Do you have to gossip about me while I’m right here?” Pai interrupts them before they can go on and mar his good name any further. Sky doesn’t need to know about the eyeliner – it was once, and it was a subtle shade of brown! — or the London thing, which is a longer, more complicated story that his siblings actually know nothing about.

“You’re right.” Phan agrees, which is suspicious. “We should gossip about you behind your back.” She turns to her second brother. “We should make a group chat, just the three of us.”

“Hey!” Pai can’t swat at her in Ben’s presence, so he settles for pouting at Sky instead, trying to win his sympathy. Surely, Sky can see how mean his siblings are to him?

“Don’t fall for it.” Plerng tells Sky. “We can all do the wounded puppy pout.” He demonstrates, perfectly mirroring Pai’s expression. Phan follows suit. Ben looks at his uncle and aunt and casts a similar wide-eyed look at Sky. “You’ll build an immunity to it soon enough.”

Pai hopes not, it’s his one go-to move that works on Sky, halves his chances of getting kicked.

“Why can’t I be in the group?” His siblings shoot identical glares at him. “Because we’re going to talk about architecture and shows and you. You’re not an expert at any of those things.”

"And you're too old," Plerng adds in an unprovoked attack.

“Rude.” Pai huffs as the siblings ignore him completely and turn all their attention to Sky.

“What’s your number, Sky?” Phan asks, her fingers poised over her keypad.

They are saved by the bell and a simultaneous notification on Phan’s phone. “Pizza’s here! Come help me out, Plerng!” They slink out of the room, muttering frenetically to each other.

Pai uses their absence to stretch out onto the sofa, stealing Plerng’s space. His phone buzzes in his pocket, he ignores it.

Sky twists around to look at him like he means to ask him something.

“Hmm?” Pai quirks an eyebrow in question. Sky doesn’t answer right away, but it’s evident that something’s on his mind, judging by the way his eyes dart from side to side. “What’s on your mind, honey?”

“P’Pai!” The uncertain eyes turn reprimanding as he casts a sideways look at Ben, but the boy is busy looking at the puzzle box, lost in his own world, unaware of the fact that his father is a shameless flirt.

“I won’t join the chat group if you don’t want me to.” Sky says finally. The words are innocuous, but the tone makes Pai take notice. He slides off the sofa and sidles up next to Sky on the carpet.

“Why wouldn’t I want you to? ” He asks, soft enough for the conversation to be contained between the two of them.

Sky looks at him, his eyes searching, like he doesn’t quite believe Pai. “It’s just, I don’t want to be st –” he changes the word at the last minute, picks one that’s less loaded than the one he was about to use” — intrude.”

***

They had been talking about escape rooms.

Oh, the irony.

It had been a good evening, one of those rare times when the investors liked Gun for who he was, and Sky had been waved away, left to spend his time as he pleased, as long as he stayed within eyeshot, as long as he steered clear of the dance floor or the dark corners where Gun told him the creeps lurked.

Sky was still gathering the courage to tell him he disagreed, that he believed the creep was closer than that.

He’d found a standing table for himself, solid enough to lean against as he fought the lightheadedness that came from drinking too much on an empty stomach. Gun had promised him dinner, Gun had forgotten his promise, and Gun would most certainly have things to say if Sky put a burger on his tab here.

‘Bored already?’ A voice had broken through his hunger-ridden mind.

‘P’ Jay.’ Sky had bowed to the older man, who wasn’t a friend of Gun’s exactly, more like an acquaintance they kept running into, and Sky hadn’t been able to figure out if the man was a potential investor or just a patron at every club this side of Bangkok.

‘Not bored…’ Sky had tried, really tried to make the lie convincing, but he’d been too tired to keep up the act. ‘Yeah.’ He’d given up, nodding in agreement. ‘I am bored.’

That had been it, the key to turn the lock. P’ Jay had taken it upon himself to snap Sky out of his stupor, his sulk. They’d talked, not about school or anything — Sky was forbidden from bringing up anything that might give away his age – but about other things.Hobbies for a start. Sky liked painting, Sky liked manga, Sky was watching one of those detective anime shows. P’Jay had perked up at that and asked Sky about escape rooms, about whether he’d ever done one.

‘You should ask Ai Gun to take you to one, they’re a fun date spot!’

It would never happen. Gun didn’t do date spots; he only did this: late nights, dark rooms, no food.

‘Ask me what?’ Sky had flinched, actually flinched – idiot! – when Gun had sidled up next to him and wrapped an arm around his waist, letting his nails dig painfully into Sky’s side. His tone had been slick, greasy enough to leave a bad taste in Sky’s mouth.

P’Jay had been oblivious. He’d prattled on about the escape room, pausing at the places where he thought they should react.

The nails in his side had forced Sky to play along, and he had continued the conversation until P’Jay had excused himself, promising to reach out to Sky the next time he did an escape room with his friends.

‘You should come, it’s always good to have an extra mind on the team!’

Sky had smiled as best as he could, through the pain of the talons in his side.

Gun had turned on him as soon as Jay had disappeared into the crowd.

‘What the fuck?’ He’d sneered. ‘I leave you alone for one minute and you’re already flirting with someone else?’

‘I wasn’t –’

‘You know how I feel about lies, Sky.’ Gun had hissed at him. ‘You know.’

Sky did know, just like he also knew that Gun didn’t care about lies, or the truth – no, he only liked to pretend that his actions were a reasonable, justifiable consequence of some moral flaw on Sky’s part.

‘What was the plan, huh?’ Gun’s breath had been acidic, alcohol-laced on Sky’s face. ‘You were going to get his number? Chat with him about your stupid show and your escape rooms? Were you going to beg him to take you to one? Were you going to beg him to fuck you?’

‘No! I was just talking to him.’ Sky’s voice had trembled as he’d tried to make his case in the face of imminent failure. ‘I figured, since he was your fr – contact – I was just being polite.’

‘Polite.’ Gun had sneered at him. ‘You were trying to be a little whore. You were trying to impress him, and what. Have. We. Said. About you talking to my people without my permission?’

‘P’Gun, please – he spoke to me first.’ Sky’s breath had gotten stuck in his throat, and the stitch in his side threatened to burst from the way Gun was pressing into it.

‘What have we said?’ Gun had demanded, the mask of calm slipping off his face to reveal the cold fury that Sky knew was a product of cheap vodka and disdain. If he pushed any more, he wouldn’t walk away unscathed.

Sky couldn’t afford that – he had a group presentation the next morning, and he needed a passing grade. He couldn’t take another day off because of a black eye or a sprained wrist. Besides, his friends were beginning to ask, to counter his assertions about walking into doors.

Backed into a corner and with no way out, Sky had braced himself and recited the words that Gun had first screamed into his face all those months ago when Sky had made the mistake of accepting a crisp from one of Gun’s friends.

‘They’re your people, they’re not mine’ He’d hated how his voice had cracked at the second half of that sentence. Pathetic. He was pathetic.

‘And?’ Gun had nuzzled against his neck, his fingers had come up to wrap around Sky’s neck. From afar, it would look like a gesture of affection; only Sky saw it for what it was – a noose.

‘They’re your people.’ Sky had tried to hold back the tears, but they had rolled down his cheeks anyway. ‘I’m too stupid to talk to them, so I shouldn’t try.’

‘That’s right.’ Gun had forced Sky to kiss him, ripped out hair as he’d forced his tongue down Sky’s throat.

‘You’re so pretty, baby.’ He’d cooed when he’d finally let go. ‘Stick to pretty. Stop pretending to be smart, you know it makes me mad.’ He’d made a half-hearted attempt to wipe away the tears – the damn tears, idiot, Sky was an idiot!

‘Don’t do that again, okay? You know how I get when I’m jealous.’

Sky knew, too well. The cigarette burns on his forearm proved it.

***

Intrude?

Pai wants to laugh at the implication that Sky could ever be an unwelcome presence; if anything, his siblings are on their best behaviour around him, so really, Pai should thank him. Still, if this is how Sky feels, then it is Pai’s duty to set the record straight.

“Intrude? Never. I want you to get to know everyone in my family.” He wraps his arms around Sky’s waist, and this time, Sky does not object to the obvious display of affection. “And I want them to know you, and if that comes at the expense of my honour.” He pouts, even though Sky can’t see him with the way his head is tucked into Pai’s shoulder. “Then that’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.” He sighs dramatically. “Oh nooo, no Phan and Plerng to bother me because they’re too busy texting you — whatever shall I do?”

“P’Pai.” Sky nudges out of the embrace.

“Hm?” Pai exaggerates the pout because Sky’s looking at him now.

“You were cuter ten seconds ago.”

“I was?” Pai bats his eyelashes at Sky, knowing full well that he’s either going to get a jab in the ribs or a kiss. "Will you promise me one thing, though?"

Sky tilts his head to look up at him. "What?"

"If they ever tell you the story about the geese, don't side with the geese."

"No promises."

Sky shrugs, but he's smiling, which is all that Pai needs.

“Dinner!” Plerng calls them from the kitchen.

“Pizza!” Ben squeals as he jumps to his feet and scampers down the hallway.

“Wash your hands!” Pai calls after him.

“I’ll make sure he does!” Comes Phan’s voice. “Come here, you monster! I’m going to pick you up, I’m going to dunk you in the sink!”

There is a scuffle in the hallway, each move followed by an outburst of giggles until the voices grow more and more incoherent before disappearing into the kitchen.

“Want me to pick you up?” Pai grins at Sky as he gets to his knees.

That earns him a jab in the ribs.

***

Ben glues himself to Sky’s side as soon as they make it into the kitchen. He chatters along for a bit about his day at school – they’ve devised a new game which Ben promises to teach Sky.

“I thought you had to be friends with Goldie for that.” Pai interjects as he lays Ben’s plate in front of him.

“New rules.” His son shrugs.

“Really? I want to play too, then!” Ben looks unconvinced about letting his father in on this exclusive made-up game; Pai’s big, pleading eyes are wasted on his son.

If only Sky were as strong.

“Ben,” He steps in to advocate for his boyfriend. “Maybe we can show your Pa how to play, too and then we can all play together.”

Ben considers Sky’s suggestion, his gaze shifting between Sky and his Pa as he thinks it over.

“Okay.” He nods finally. “I’ll show Pa.”

“Remind me to think of you,” Pai whispers to Sky as he hands him a plate. “When I need to convince someone to get a haircut.”

The siblings join the table, and Sky watches as Pai fills their plates, puts extra ham on Plerng’s plate and more olives on Phan’s, because those are their favourite toppings. He refills water glasses and cuts Ben’s slices into smaller slivers, and asks Sky three times if he has enough.

He’s always flitting around, looking after everyone else at the table, barely eating himself.

Phan and Plerng offer to clear the table and wash up after dinner. They outright refuse to let Sky help.

“Please.” Phan waves off Sky’s offer to help wash the plates. “I have a feeling your services are going to be needed elsewhere.”

Her prediction comes true soon enough. “Aa Sky.” Ben is at his elbow, wide-eyed and impatient as he tries to get Sky’s attention by poking at his forearm.

“Yes, Ben?” Sky holds out his hand so Ben can have a better grip.

“Come.” Ben pulls, forcing Sky to his feet. “My room.”

Sky knows Ben’s room is at the end of the corridor; he had a brief look at it the first time he came over for lunch. Still, he’s never been beyond the domain of their living room, not even to Pai’s room, not without him.

And now Ben wants him to go to his room with him. Sky looks to Pai for guidance.

His boyfriend only smiles at him. “Go on. You can’t ignore a direct order. I’ll be there in ten.”

With that reassurance, Sky lets Ben lead him out of the kitchen.

***

“Ten minutes?” Phan speaks after the door slides closed behind them. “I thought you’d be glued to P’Sky like Ben is.”

“True.” Plerng frowns at his brother. “What do you need the ten minutes for?”

He almost tells them then, until the voice in his head reminds him that he doesn’t know enough yet, that there’s no point in telling them until they can help.

“Nothing.” He says instead. “I just wanted to send some work emails.”

“Work emails?” Phan turns the term over in her head. “Sounds like you’re trying to land in P’Tan’s good books.”

“I’m always trying to be in P’Tan’s good books.” He returns to his phone, scrolls through his inbox, makes a note to ask Namtan for the contact he needs first thing tomorrow.

***

He finds them sitting at Ben’s desk, colouring in a page together. Ben focuses on the colouring, calling out the names of colours, which Sky hands to him like a surgeon’s assistant.

“Red.” He deposits the purple crayon he’s been using in Sky’s palm before picking up the stick in his other hand. Sky returns the crayon to its designated space in the box.

“What’s your favourite colour?” Ben asks as he sets the red back in Sky’s palm.

“Mine?” Sky’s fingertips graze the crayons in the box in front of them, coming to a stop over a dark green. “This one. I like green.”

“Okay.” Ben nods sagely. “We’ll use this then.” The green is deployed to colour in the last shape in the book, just as Pai joins them.

“What’re we doing?” He asks softly.

“Colouring fishies.” Ben points at the shapes in front of him. “Purple for Ben, red for Pa, green for Aa Sky.”

“I see.” Pai smiles as he rests a hand on Sky’s shoulder. “Will you give this one to Aa Sky?”

His son shakes his head. “This is for Ben.” He holds the paper up to Pai. “Pa, pleeease?”

“If you’re sure.” Pai holds the paper up to the oversized magnetic board in front of Ben’s desk. “Where should I put it? Here? Here?” He glides the magnet across several spots until his son chooses the perfect place for it.

“Okay.” Pai declares, once Ben’s put away his crayons and his sheets. “Time for bed.”

This is met with some protest. Ben doesn’t want to go to bed, doesn’t want to be asleep so soon, isn’t even sleepy, he doesn’t even like sleeping…

“Sorry, monkey.” Pai ruffles his hair. “It’s bedtime, and we can’t change bedtime.”

Ben actually looks like he might cry at the refusal.

“But Pa...” His voice falters. “I don’t wanna…”

Pai shakes his head. “I’’ll read you a story if you like, and we promise we won't do anything fun without you, right, Sky?” He ropes Sky into his scheme. His boyfriend nods earnestly.

“Promise.”

Ben considers the proposition, watery eyes flitting between the two men who stand shoulder to shoulder in front of him. Finally, he speaks.

“Can Aa Sky read the story?”

“Maybe, if you ask nicely.” Pai smiles at him.

Ben turns his attention to Sky, who nods encouragingly at him. “Please, Aa Sky. Will you read me story?”

“Of course, Ben.” Sky smiles at him.

“Okay!” And just like that, the sullen child is smiling again as he moves like a typhoon around his room, with Pai close behind him, helping him open drawers and pick out pajamas. They disappear into the adjoining bathroom, with Pai singing an absurd song about brushing teeth.

Sky is left all alone to admire the three fish on the wall, one for each of them.

It shouldn’t mean anything.

But it does.

***

“Pa!” Ben kicks at the mattress as he calls out to his father with some urgency.

“One sec, Bennie. I’m just – oof – ooof – oh!” Pai yelps and kicks at the air. Sky bites down a laugh as his boyfriend’s legs splay out on the tiled floor, while his top half battles the darkness under Ben’s bed.

Finally, after another five seconds of making the appropriate investigative sounds, Pai slides out from under the bed, his hair a ruffled mess.

“No monsters.” He declares. “But I did fight some dust bunnies. Don’t worry, they went poof!” He makes an exploding gesture with his hand.

“Poof!” Ben giggles as he mirrors the action.

“Okay.” Pai settles at the foot of his son’s bed. “Into bed, mister. Let me know you’re ready for your story.”

Ben follows dutifully, wriggling into the plush duvet until only his head pops out. He tosses and turns around a couple more times until he’s finally comfortable.

Then he trains his eyes on Sky, who is perched at the head of the bed on one of Ben’s stools. Sky's certain he wasn't even this nervous during his final presentation for architecture college. There's more on the line here - Sky certainly didn't care this much about being liked by his panel of professors. He looks over at Pai who has settled at the foot of Ben's bed, his eyes trained on Sky.

He smiles.

That's all the encouragement Sky needs to begin.

***

“...and then Bear hugged the forest good night and the forest hugged him back.” Sky glances over at Ben as he closes the book shut. The child had fallen asleep four pages ago, but Sky had kept going, just in case. He looks away from the sleeping boy to his father, who is still perched dutifully at the end of the bed.

Pai winks at him, of course he does.

Quietly, together, they tiptoe out of Ben’s room, not even daring to breathe until they’re in the silent corridor.

“You okay?” Pai whispers in his ear as he pulls Sky to him, engulfing the other man in a hug. “You want a glass of water?” He pushes open the door of the adjoining room – a loose interpretation, as the doors in this hallway are several feet apart – and leads them in.

Pai’s room is spacious, all neutral tones and modern furnishings, save for a weathered mango wood rocking chair that faces the window. There is a walk-in closet – no surprise there – and a second room that leads to Pai's study, for days when he needs to work from home. The room is the size of half of Sky’s flat, but he’s gotten used to this fact about his boyfriend, that he lives a life of abundance, but that, unlike others, his life of plenty has made him generous, giving, and eager to share.

Like their first date, when he’d paid for the meal because he’d wanted to.

Like the million coffees he buys Sky, the meals he delivers to his doorstep.

The way he happily takes all the surveys that N’Six and the other baristas earn commission on.

How he’s happy to drive Sky anywhere and gets offended when Sky suggests the concept of a taxi.

The way he’s faced belligerent teachers on his brother's behalf.

The way he bickers with his siblings while he’s topping up their plates.

The way he would burrow to the centre of the earth if Ben asked him to.

It’s not because money is no object, it’s because Pai is possibly the most selfless person he knows.

“Here.” A glass of water is pushed into Sky’s hands. Mechanically, he takes a sip. Then another, and another until he’s drained the whole glass. He had no idea he was this thirsty.

“Your throat’s dry from all that reading,” Pai smirks at him. “It’s the price you pay for being Ben’s favourite.” A frown replaces the smirk as Pai holds him at arm’s length and gives him a once-over. “It’s not fair.” Pai huffs. “How can you be everyone’s favourite? I’m going to be fighting them all off for you.”

He looks at Sky like he’s expecting an answer, an apology even.

Sky doesn’t really have either of those, so he chooses a different method to put the question to rest. He steps into Pai’s personal space with the single-minded intention of kissing the pointless questions out of his mind. He keeps the kiss soft, fluttery like butterfly wings, fluttery like his heart whenever Pai’s involved.

“What was that for?” Pai’s breathless and twinkly-eyed when they part.

“For being my favourite.” Sky runs a thumb over the other man’s cheek.

“Yeah?” He looks like a child who’s been told they can have ice cream for every meal.

Sky takes his time repeating the confession. He trails a finger across his boyfriend’s chest, revelling in the way the action makes Pai blink like a disoriented goat.

“Mhm.” He makes a sound that can be interpreted either way.

But of course, Pai’s an eternal optimist. He takes the glass from Sky’s hands and places it on the nearest surface before pulling Sky fully into him. The kiss that follows is neither soft nor fluttery. Pai kisses Sky like a man deprived, with a thirst that a straggler in a desert wouldn’t be able to relate to.

“Stay the night?” He asks when they can no longer go without breath. “I promise I won’t try anything.” He grins deviously at Sky, which strongly suggests otherwise. He could do it, could stay the night, just this once –

“I can’t.” He’s surprised by how suddenly his heart plummets at the words, but he really can’t – he has an early class tomorrow, one he still needs to prepare for.

“No?” Pai sighs. “Fine.” He pecks Sky on the lips again. “Give me a minute to summon one of the demons I’m related to, and then I can drive –”

“I’ll take a taxi.”

Pai’s face actually falls at that. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No –”

“Then why would you punish me like that?” He whines like his heart is breaking.

It’s hard to believe that this man allegedly argues cases in court.

“P’Pai.” Sky tries to reason with him, but is hastily interrupted.

“No, no, no. I’m driving you. No arguments.”

“You’ve had a long day.”

“Exactly.” He agrees readily. “So let me look at you for another twenty-three minutes so I can wake up refreshed.” He smiles as he looks right at Sky, like the sight of his day-worn face is actually a tonic to him.

“Drama Queen.” He manages finally.

“Your Drama Queen.” Pai corrects as he leans happily onto Sky’s shoulder.

***

A selfish part of him wants to cling to Sky, to insist that he stay the night, stuck to Pai’s side so that his brain can short-circuit and push away every other thought that's fighting for his attention. He could just ask Sky, take advantage of his pout while it still works.

It’s just as well that he doesn’t push, doesn’t beg, because right now Sky would be a distraction – a welcome distraction, but a distraction nonetheless, and that is the last thing Pai needs right now.

He stays parked in front of Sky’s apartment, watching the rectangle of light on the third floor as Sky switches on the light to his study so he can get started on his to-do list. Sky works too much. Pai wonders if he even sleeps, the fact that he gets prompt responses to the 4 a.m. messages he sometimes sends him suggests otherwise.

Speaking of text messages.

Pai finally addresses the thing that’s been weighing him down all evening. Honestly, he needs to get a grip; it’s just words on a screen, and nothing he hasn’t heard before. It’s expected, really, all things considered.

That doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt, doesn’t set off something defensive within him, doesn’t make him want to lash out and maim. He won’t do any of it, that much goes without saying, not if it means putting his family at risk – putting Sky at risk.

He pulls up the messages on his phone again. Four more messages have flown in, in the hour and a half since they tucked Ben into bed. He doesn’t need to open the message to read its contents; the single word glares up at him, a dark spot on his otherwise perfect day.

Unknown Number

MURDERER

Unknown Number

MURDERER

Unknown Number

MURDERER

Unknown Number

MURDERER

They join the trail of messages that Pai’s already looked at, different numbers, same word.

Someone – and there are no doubts in his mind as to who – has been asking questions about him.

And it looks like they’ve found something.

***

Chapter Text

Prapai tries to hold onto the illusion of normalcy for the rest of the week. He shows up at the cafe, smiles at Sky, whines at Sky, pouts at Sky, gets told off by Sky for being too distracting when he’s busy, gets kissed by Sky every evening when he insists on dropping the man home. He goes to all his meetings, even the ones that are just follow-up sessions for the interns. He even makes it to a business lunch with one of his father’s wizened clients, a man who has tried for the better part of the decade to set Pai up with his granddaughter. He wraps up all his pending tasks, makes all the phone calls he needs to and is generally so efficient that Namtan is suspicious of him by the end of it.

“Something’s going on.” She says as she clears his desk of the last of the paperwork.

“Nothing’s going on.” Pai avoids eye contact, knowing Namtan will clock him immediately. “I just want the weekend to myself.”

“Hmm.” As usual, Namtan’s expression gives nothing away. “If you keep going at this rate, you’ll be able to take a whole week off.”

He might need to,after all of this is over.

The messages come in every half hour now, from the same number.

Unknown Number

MURDERER

I KNOW WHAT U DID TO HER

HOW LONG UNTIL EVERYONE ELSE FINDS OUT?

It’s the same thing over and over again, sent from the same three burner phones that his investigator says he has no chance of tracing.

Pai doesn’t need help knowing who these are from. He does need help finding out where the viper is hiding.

He wonders where Phayu and Saifah are on tracing the backer that Stop might be hiding behind. He should call Phayu and bring him up to speed…

He stares at his friend’s name on the screen, his fingers hovering hesitantly on the call button.

He should, shouldn’t he?

He has to.

There is a knock at his door; Namtan is back.

“New client just walked in. Conference room 2. Your father will be there too.”

Later, he’ll call Phayu later.

***

Sky’s phone buzzes as he pushes open the door to his flat, resigned to another busy night of catching up on corrections and assessments.

It’s a message from his father.

PA

Coming to Bangkok for a reunion this weekend. Want anything from here?

Sky’s about to type back a ‘no’, but then the thought strikes him and he texts back.

His father responds almost immediately.

PA

Really? I think they’re in a box somewhere. I’ll bring them if I find them.

His phone buzzes again.

Another message.

RAIN

You won’t believe this place P’Phayu’s brought me to.

It’s like

A secret hideout

We have to come here together

The prawns here – wait

That last message is followed by a photo of Rain’s plate. Great, now he’s hungry.

He texts Rain back, telling him to focus on the prawns, and more importantly, on his boyfriend instead and slinks into the kitchen to retrieve the emergency pack of instant noodles he keeps over the stove.

Maybe once this week is through, he can take P’Pai out on a date. His eyes settle on the grinning leopard shark stuck to the front of his fridge. He grins back.

***

This place is really something else. Fancy, like it should require a secret code and a blood sacrifice for entry. Every surface is gleaming and pristine, every glass crystal clear and sparkling, and yet, the space exudes a sense of unpretentious calm; maybe it’s that the clientele ranges from groups of professionals in formal clothing to scruffy-faced men in ripped jeans and band t-shirts. Or maybe it’s that the ambient noise is a cheerful blend of good-natured chatter and the musical clinking of clear crystal glasses. Whatever it is, the place has cast its spell on Rain, and he’s texting Sky about it as soon as they’ve found a table and ordered off a menu that is surprisingly uncomplicated and reasonably priced. It’s nice, almost nice enough for Rain to wonder if this mid-week date might be The Date. Unlikely, he thinks – they’ve talked about it, discussed how Rain would like to be proposed to – some place with a view, and with Phayu dressed in that motorcycle jacket that Rain loves to rip off of him.

Still, it’s nice.

“Do you like it?” Phayu asks from across from him. His expression suggests that he already knows the answer, but Rain is only too happy to respond.

“Love it. How did you find it?”

He knows that look on Phayu’s face, a humming smile, Rain calls it, a sure shot indication that he’s got a secret that Rain’s not privy to yet.

“I helped a friend renovate the basement space when she first bought the place.”

“A friend?” Rain raises an eyebrow as his mind conjures up an image of a siren of a woman brushing shoulders with Phayu as they work on a blueprint…

“She’s just a friend, Rain.” Phayu’s amused because of course, he can read the jealousy in Rain’s expression. “And she’s been married for years.”

“Hmmm.” Rain pretends to mull it over. “Fine. Order us another plate of that shrimp and I’ll believe you.”

“Phayu?”

Both of them turn in the direction of the unfamiliar voice. A man, older than them, with bleached blonde hair and dressed in a suit that appears to be missing a shirt.

“P’Mik.” Phayu doesn’t bother standing up as he greets the man. Rain glances over at his boyfriend. There is a tension in Phayu’s jaw that wasn’t there before, and while he sounds cordial enough, that cordiality does not manifest in his expression or in his stony gaze. No, Phayu looks extremely unhappy to see this P’Mik.

“Long time no see.” The man called Mik misses all the signs that Rain’s spotted in less than five seconds. “I haven’t seen you since…” He trails off with a conspiratorial smirk. “Well, five years, give or take. Who’s your friend?”

That last question is addressed to Rain who shifts in his seat to introduce himself.

“My boyfriend.” Phayu speaks before Rain can. “We’re on a date.” The ‘so please fuck off and leave us alone’ is heavily implied but completely lost on Mik.

“Boyfriend, huh? Wow, congratulations.” He casts a sideways glance at Rain, sizing him up with renewed interest, like he's trying to evaluate the silken-haired man at Phayu's side. Rain fights the urge to scowl at this reptilian specimen. It's almost as if Mik can read his mind, because a second later, he flicks his tongue across his lips, like a snake preparing to swallow a defenceless egg. “Wow, this has been a month for me. First I find out that Pai got married, and now the famously picky Phayu has a boyfriend, I guess a lot has changed, huh?”

“You’re still the same.” Phayu’s jibe goes right over his head.

“Yeah, I guess.” The man shrugs, steps aside for the server, who sets their orders down on the table. Rain hopes this is where the conversation will end, but Mik sticks around. “Hey, whatever happened to Pai? Do you guys still talk?”

Phayu doesn’t respond, so Mik carries on, leaning closer as he drops his voice to a whisper. “You know, his name’s come up a couple of times at the track this month. Don’t know what the deal is, lots of questions about his wife – wife! Can you believe it? I hadn’t realised he’d given up his mission to sleep with all of Bangkok –” He looks at Rain again, and the man’s shocked expression must be what he’s after, because he propels on. “ — anyway, this guy has a lot of questions, maybe you should come by one of these days, help him out.”

“Maybe I will.” Phayu’s tone is cold. Rain knows how he feels about gossip.

“Yeah?” Mik grins at him. “You know…” He pauses for dramatic effect, and Rain wonders why Phayu won’t just shut him down, tell him off like he’s usually so good at doing. It's almost as if he wants the man to go on, wants to evaluate him on his ability to dig himself into a hole.

Their opponent appears to have this the other way around.
“...since I have you here…what happened between the two of you? They say you punched the daylights out of him when he told you he was seeing someone? Was it someone off-limits? An ex? ” His grin wavers when Phayu doesn’t answer. “I mean, if it got a reaction out of you, he probably deserved it. We all knew he was an arrogant ass, so full of himself - his looks, his bike, his money, his ability to pull anyone he wan -”

To Rain, it sounds like the man is rattling off a list he's long-maintained. These are not the casual comments of someone who's just happened to have a thought. "I'm just saying," He shrugs. "Other people's lives don't mean a whole lot to people like that."

He’s visibly disappointed when Phayu doesn’t respond to that declaration.

“I guess we all have our own things.” The man shrugs finally as he crawls out of the metaphorical hole. He casts a final look at Rain, who isn’t bothering to hide the scowl on his face. “I’ll leave you to it. Enjoy your da–.’

“P’Mik.” Phayu interrupts his insincere farewell. “The guy asking questions, what camp is he from?”

***

MURDERER

And that is officially the hundredth iteration of that text.

Pai rolls over in bed, once more fighting the impulse to batter something, anything.

His phone rings, disrupting the silence of the night, and Pai fights the urge to fling it against the wall.

Maybe it’s Sky, even though Sky has never called him at 2 a.m. on a weekday.

It’s Phayu.

“What?” Pai snaps.

“I have a name.”

Well, that makes him snap just a little less. “Who?”

Phayu doesn’t answer right away. “No one we know.” He says, finally. “But I think I’d like to get to know them.”

“Yeah?” Pai gets to his feet and settles onto the rocking chair instead. “Me too. Listen, Phayu –” He dives in before he can second-guess himself again. “He’s been texting me.”

“What? Since when?” There is movement on Phayu’s end, as he too moves to a quieter part of the house to prepare for a longer conversation.

“All week.”

“When were you going to tell me?”

“Tomorrow.” Pai lies. “I was trying to trace the number–burner phone, phones, I should say.”

“So how do you know it’s him?”

“I made an educated guess.”

“Educate me.”

“Just.” Pai is aware that he’s stalling for time and that it’s not going to work. “He’s been sending me stuff that he’d only hear from the race track rumour mill.”

“Like what?” There is an edge to Phayu’s voice now, one that suggests that he will happily stay up all night asking questions if that is what it takes. There’s no getting out of this.

“It’s nothing intellectual, obviously.” Pai tries to make light of the situation, infusing a humour into it that even he does not feel. “Just one-word texts for the most part.”

“And the one word is?”

And there’s the wall, the dead end he can’t scale. He repeats the word with as much indifference as he can muster.

“Murderer.”

It hangs over their heads like a blade, raised to strike and take them down.

“I’m sorry.” Phayu is the first to break the silence.

“Forget it.” Prapai bulldozes over the apology. “I’ve told you to stop apologising.”

“And I told you to keep me in the loop.” Phayu throws back.

Well, touché.

***

Phayu hangs up and spends a good minute staring outside, where it’s beginning to drizzle. It’s going to be a grey weekend, and an even greyer month, at least until they can put this situation to rest.

Warm arms wrap themselves around his waist as Rain nuzzles against his back. “Were you talking to P’Pai?” The man’s voice is sleep-ridden and husky.

“Did I wake you?” He turns around so he can hold Rain closer to him. The other man shakes his head.

“Couldn’t sleep…P’Phayu.” Then Rain’s looking up at him with a glint in his eyes, the way he gets when he’s preparing to fight. “All that stuff about P’Pai - I don’t have to worry, right? About Sky?”

Phayu looks into his lover’s eyes and gently strokes his long hair.

“Of course not.” He reassures him. “You don’t have to worry at all.”

“So he isn’t married?”

“He used to be, to Ben's mum – you've met him.” Phayu murmurs, his lips brushing against Rain’s hair.

“Oh. I always thought he was just a single dad.” Rain’s brows knit together as he absorbs this information. “What happened? Why did that guy sound so surprised about it?” He bites his lip before he asks the next question. “Was she your ex?”

“No, she wasn't my ex.” Phayu smiles despite himself. “It’s a long story.” Phayu shakes his head. “Not mine to tell.”

Rain hums as he looks out the window. “I believe you. It’s just, Sky’s…well, I guess it’s not my story to tell.” "

They huddle closer together as the first streak of lightning splits the sky.

"What did he mean..." Rain pulls at the front of Phayu's shirt as he tries to extract the cryptic statement from his memory. "That thing about other people's lives not meaning-"

"Nothing." Phayu's eyes flash as another skeletal claw reaches for them from the sky. "It meant nothing, Rain. Mik's always been a jealous jerk, always happy to believe the worst of people - especially if they outshine him in any way. He doesn't realise he's talking into a mirror."

"P'Pai -" Rain is interrupted by Phayu.

"Is an aggravating, smug-faced idiot, and sometimes he has noodles for brains, but he-" Phayu's gaze softens in response to Rain's wide-eyed look of surprise. " - is also the kindest man I know. When we were in school, he used to talk to the spiders he caught in class, and then he would free them by the spider lilies in the garden, so 'they could be close to family'."

They chuckle in a moment of shared levity as Phayu recalls the memory, and Rain tries to imagine Prapai as the self-proclaimed patron saint of arachnids. "My point is," Phayu goes on once Rain's settled against him again. "It's not true, and it will never be true."

"Okay." Rain agrees, finally, the words barely audible over the cacophonous patter of raindrops against the window. He has one final question for Phayu. "Noodles for brains? Really?"

Phayu soothes him with a kiss on the forehead. "Don't worry about it, Sky has enough for the both of them."

***

Chapter Text

The doorbell rings just as Sky finishes vacuuming the living room.

Strange. Sky glances at his wristwatch; it’s still too early, the bus doesn’t get in until noon.

“P’Pai?” Sky’s not expecting to see his boyfriend at the other side of the door, bright-eyed and holding up a paper bag in one hand, a coffee carrier in the other.

“Surprise!” Pai grins as he steps through. “I brought coffee and Mae baked cinnamon rolls.” He lays the paper bag on the counter and looks inquisitively at Sky. “Have you had breakfast?” He casts a look at the sink, which is clear of dishes. “Try a roll while it’s fresh.” He unwraps one and holds it out, looking suspiciously innocent, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Sky knows his game far too well at this point.

He pretends to fall for it anyway.

He reaches a hand out for the cinnamon roll and pretends to be weightless as Pai pulls him into a hug. Pai’s always enthusiastic about hugs, about any opportunity, really, to make contact, but that morning, he holds on tighter than he usually would, spends longer mumbling into Sky’s hair.

“You’re squishing my cinnamon roll.” Sky half-complains as he breathes in Pai’s scent, brushes his cheek against the soft cotton of his skin-tight t-shirt.

Maybe I should wear a skin-tight t-shirt.

It’s taken months for Pai to follow through on that promise he made on their first date.

“There’s plenty more in the bag, I’ll eat that one.” Pai whispers. “Although.” His breath is warm against Sky’s skin as he nudges Sky until he’s up against the kitchen wall. “There’s something else I’d rather have for breakfast.”

“Hmm.” Sky feigns ignorance as he dodges the first kiss. “Like what?”

“I dunno.” Pai’s lips brush Sky’s forehead, trail down to the corner of his mouth. “Something sweeter than sugar and vanilla.” He licks at Sky’s lips and deepens the kiss when Sky parts his lips to let him in. Sky’s arms wrap around Pai’s neck of their own accord as he kisses him back, feeling the familiar heady rush that pulses through his veins every time he’s allowed to kiss, to touch, to feel Pai’s solid, anchoring weight against him.

How did he go without this for so long?

“So you were hungry,” Pai smirks at him as he tucks a strand of hair behind Sky’s ear when they break apart. “You should have called, I’d have come running.”

“You’re delusional.” Sky rolls his eyes as he pushes Pai off of him. “And scratchy.” He raises a slender finger to trace the stubble on Pai’s jaw before leaning in to kiss his surprised boyfriend again.

Idiot. The man acts like this is new for him, like Sky’s never kissed him before. It’s definitely not even a little bit endearing. Sky breaks away just as abruptly, and he turns around and returns his attention to dusting the shelves around the living room. Prapai compensates for the loss of contact by flinging his arms over Sky’s shoulders and glueing himself to Sky’s back as he follows him around the house, tearing strips of the cinnamon roll he still holds, and feeding them to Sky.

“You’re heavy.” Sky complains.

“It’s all muscle,” Pai assures him.

“Does that include what’s between your ears?”

“No.” Pai disagrees in all seriousness. “My brain is mush and it’s all your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Sky twists around to face him, his lips dusted with sugar.

“You melted it with how cute you are.” Pai lowers his head to kiss those sweet lips.

“Liar.” Sky scoffs at the blatant exaggeration when they break apart.

Pai gasps at the reprimand. “Not even a little. My Sky is so cute and smart and handsome and –ow!” He makes a show of being mortally wounded as a red-eared Sky swats him with the duster. “ – has perfect aim too…” He trails off as his phone buzzes in his pocket. Reluctantly, Pai untangles himself from Sky.

“I have to take this.”

He retreats to the study, where the phone signal is better. Sky uses the ten minutes of silence to finish the last of his chores.

He’s only just taken a sip of the coffee and bitten into the squished cinnamon roll when the bell rings again.

***

“There’s a race next week.” Phayu bypasses the greeting as usual. “And Saifah found some more information about this backer. He’s small fry, runs a club of some sort near the warehouses in the factory district. Nothing fancy, but one of the bikers did overhear him bragging about how he has some pretty high-profile investors. I thought you might want to –”

“Yeah.” Pai agrees. “I’ll ask Plerng to look into it.”

“And the race?”

Pai hesitates. On the one hand, he’s made a promise to never race again, to never take on an avoidable risk. On the other hand, there’s nothing risky about helping his friend out on the illegal racetrack that he was once a star on. And even if it is a risk, it’s not avoidable.

He has to do this.

“Text me the details.”

“Will do.” Phayu hangs up just as the doorbell rings.

***

“I thought you’d be on the noon bus.” It’s not the best greeting, but it’s all that Sky can muster as he lets his father in through his door.

“I got an earlier one. Your Uncle Fen’s hosting a lunch for alumni so I thought it was worth getting up at dawn to make it to that.” Sky’s father casts a look around the living room, before his gaze wanders to the kitchen, to the cups of coffee and the bag of cinnamon rolls.

“Is Rain here?” He enquires, knowing full well that if Sky’s best friend were around, he’d be bounding up to him, full of hugs and tales to tell. His gaze lingers on the fridge, its grey surface overpowered by bright crayon drawings, some of which are decipherable as marine animals while others are abstract blobs inviting a more imaginative interpretation. “You’re drawing again.” He remarks, straight-faced, deadpan.

“They were gifts.” Over his father’s shoulder, Sky spots the familiar mop of dark hair as Pai pokes his head out of the guest bedroom, looking a mix between curious and stricken as he ponders his next move. He arches an eyebrow as he meets Sky’s eye.

What? He mouths. As in, what do I do? Should he run? Should he hide? Should he take a leaf out of his son’s book and close his eyes and pretend he’s invisible?

Sky’s gaze lingers on him in that magical way that makes Pai’s heart do somersaults. No, no time for somersaults, Pai reprimands himself with a shake of his head.

Sky shakes his head at him

Then he smiles.

***

He’s an idiot, Sky thinks affectionately as he watches his boyfriend trying his best to melt into the corridor wall like he believes that he might actually achieve it if he just puts his heart into it.

It’s not ideal, definitely not how Sky envisioned introducing his father to his boyfriend. He’d hoped for time, maybe – to sit his father down and break the news to him. Or maybe, more likely, the time he needs is for himself, because he knows his father well enough to know that he’s going to love Pai just as much as Pai’s family loves him.

No, it’s definitely him – he’s never done this before.

He’s not sure how to do this.

Well…

Perhaps this is the right way – introducing them here in his flat, over cinnamon rolls and tea and coffee, like it’s just another mundane weekend morning, ordinary, organic,easy.

“Pa.” Sky smiles over his father’s shoulder to where his boyfriend’s staring at him with thinly-veiled panic in his eyes. His father follows his gaze and turns to look at Pai, who tries one last time, in vain, to disappear into the wall, before he pushes away from it and pulls himself to his full height. “This is Pai. My boyfriend.”

Prapai shuffles closer, hands clasped in front of him, a smile on his face as he approaches Sky, and the shorter man who looks nothing like him, save for the fact that he has the same honey brown eyes as Sky.

“P’Pai. This is my dad.”

***

It’s not fair.

Sky had had an armful of carnations when he’d met Pai’s mae. Not that he’d needed them, of course, there was no way in hell that Pai’s mother would have been anything but in love with him. The point is, whether necessary or not, Sky had been prepared.

Pai is not.

He’s less than prepared; he’s not even at default settings, in his t-shirt and casual sweatpants. He should have worn one of his suits, should have combed his hair. But the cinnamon rolls had been fresh and getting them to Sky while they were still warm, that had been the priority.

Generally speaking, Pai is good – more than good – at thinking on his feet. He’s not afraid of addressing the room, of standing out and making a good impression when he needs to, and he does need to quite often, in his line of work. Yet, here he is, in his old t-shirt and his raggedy sweatpants, lurking in the corridor in front of Sky’s room, and actually finding himself at a loss for words as he tries not to blink while he holds Sky’s father’s gaze.

That’s it, from here on out, he’s going to go to bed in a suit and make sure he carries a hairbrush up his sleeve for situations just like these.

Lawyer, you’re a lawyer. He reminds himself in his head as he forces the smile back onto his face and takes a tentative step forward in response to Sky calling out his name. Confident, you’re supposed to be confident. You’ve been up against so much scarier—

— corrupt corporations

—- potential political kingpins

— real estate tycoons with links to the actual mafia

This is just Sky’s dad.

He can do this.

This is Pai, my boyfriend.

The ease with which Sky makes that admission untangles the knot in Pai’s stomach. There is no hesitation, no sense of coercion in Sky’s tone as he addresses his father, whose face gives very little away.

That’s where Sky must get it from.

Still, the unchanged demeanour is a good sign, so Pai surges on, feeling the smile settle more naturally on his face as he raises his hands and wais at the older man.

“Hello.” He doesn’t have a name. Is ‘Pa’ too forward? Well, it did take Sky a hundred and thirteen days to finally call him his boyfriend; he’d better not risk it. “ Khun.” He compensates with another wai, and then, to his own surprise, a wave – what is he, his uncle’s plus one on the red carpet?

He covers it up by redirecting, waving towards the cinnamon rolls and his own untouched cup of black coffee. “Can I offer you a cinnamon roll? Or a coffee? It’s black, but I could go out and get you one you’d like –”

He’s fully aware that he’s blabbering, and also fully aware that it’s all going off the rails, very quickly, very messily.

He should shut up. It’s what he’d tell himself if he were his own lawyer.

“I could –” He looks over the man’s shoulder, hoping frantically that Sky will step in and save him.

Sky only smiles at him, that lovely, warm smile that Pai would swoon over any other time; right now, it threatens to create more problems.

“I – “ He tries again, deciding that he’d rather complete a sentence than lapse into silence. His eyes flit to Sky again, in an effort to trick – reassure his mind. “I – um –” He could say he’s heard a lot about him from Sky, but that would be a lie; Sky’s never mentioned his family, the only thing Pai knows is that he’s from somewhere up north – that information was relayed via Phayu, and that Sky’s an only child — which is something Sky told him during one of their date quiz sessions.

It’s nice to meet you.

He could say that. A nice, generic and completely truthful thing to say, because Pai is thrilled to meet Sky’s father, absolutely euphoric at the fact that Sky’s introduced him so easily as his boyfriend. Less euphoric that it’s like this, when he has stubble on his face and a rip in his sweatpants.

“I really like Sky.”

Oh.

Well, it’s also the truth, but maybe it’s not the most appropriate thing to say. He risks another look at Sky and feels his heart plummet to his ankles when he finds that Sky’s inspecting his feet now, refusing to make eye contact.

That bad, huh?

“I mean, it’s nice to meet you.” He makes sure the smile doesn’t slip off his face as he reaches for the cinnamon rolls on the counter. “Can I–”

“I don’t eat sugar.” The man looks at Pai, completely unperturbed by the trainwreck in front of him.

“I’ll make you tea. Pa doesn’t drink coffee.” Sky calls over his shoulder as he abandons Pai.

Surprisingly, his boyfriend’s father turns out to be more charitable. “Pai, was it?” He enquires, and Pai nods his head enthusiastically. “Can I ask you to help me with this suitcase?”

Of course, a thousand times over. You’d be helping me, is what Pai wants to say.

He keeps his mouth shut as he lifts the suitcase with the perfectly functioning wheels and follows Sky’s father to the guest room.

***

It’s only once the door slides shut behind them that Sky’s father speaks to him again.

“Pai, is that short for something?”

“Yes, Prapai, like the Wind God, not that I'm–” Pai turns after he’s set the suitcase up in its corner. “ – a God or anything, Khun –.” He trails off helplessly. The older man’s mouth quivers just a bit as Pai's usual quip about his name falls flat before it can fully take-off. Wind God, he should have been named after the goblin of garbage first impressions.

“Just call me Van.” He casts a look at the room, at the made bed and the bookshelf that dominates the wall next to Prapai. He unlatches the linen cupboard — the piece of furniture that Pai knows like the back of his hand at this point — and retrieves a towel.

This should be Pai’s cue to leave.

“Are you at the architecture faculty with Sky?” Van settles on the foot of the bed, letting Pai hover by the bookcase.

“No, I’m a lawyer.” Pai doesn’t miss the look of surprise as it flits across Khun Van’s face, and he can’t say he blames him for being taken aback. Pai’s not exactly behaving like a lawyer, hiding away in this corner and stumbling over his words, probably staring like an idiot, too, he’d wager.

“How did you two meet?”

Pai engages his lawyer brain to properly answer that question, omitting the details he’s certain Sky's dad wouldn’t want to hear, and focusing only on the big picture.

“We met through common friends, Sky’s friend Rain and his boyfriend –” Maybe he shouldn’t have said boyfriend, should have used a more neutral term –

“Phayu?” His best friend’s name brings him back to the present. Sky’s father knows Phayu? He’s known of Phayu before he knew about Prapai? This is the wrong time for jealousy, but the flame licks at him anyway as he nods his head.

“Right. Phayu’s my best friend, and that’s how we met.” He feels more like a witness than a lawyer at this moment. “How do you know him?” The question puts him on even footing again.

Khun Van shakes his head. “I know of him. Rain’s texted me about him. Often.” He adds, for emphasis.

Of course, Sky’s dad is on a text thread with his son’s best friend. Rain wouldn’t be Rain if he weren’t capable of pulling off something like that.

Maybe he should be jealous of Rain instead. Phayu and Rain, both of them, for making an impression on Sky’s dad before he could.

“He sounds nice.” Pai nods on autopilot because, objectively speaking, it is true. “I can’t see how his best friend wouldn’t be, too.”

Fine, maybe he should be a little more thankful to Phayu, for saving him from this disaster that was all his own doing.

“I try my best.” Pai says instead. Because he wants to, because that’s what Sky deserves.

The father’s expression is as indecipherable as his son’s as he stares long and hard at Pai, who tries not to blink. Why, he couldn’t tell you.

“Well.” He gets to his feet, towel draped over his shoulder. “If you don’t mind…”

Not at all. Pai makes a beeline for the door, in as dignified a way as he can muster.

***

Sky’s waiting for him in the kitchen, tearing strips from the cinnamon roll his father declined.

“You took your time.” He drawls.

Pai looks over his shoulder to make sure no poker-faced fathers are lurking down the hall. “I think your dad hates me.” He glares at Sky, even though it’s not technically Sky’s fault. “He knows about Phayu.” To his surprise, Sky looks like he sympathises with him.

“Rain’s his little informant.” He says as he rips another layer off the cinnamon roll. “They’re like best friends. You’ll get used to it.” He slides the untouched coffee cup towards Pai. “Drink.”

Pai blinks at the coffee, the same one he offered to Sky’s dad, before practically begging him to let him get him another.

The man doesn’t even drink coffee.

With a groan, Pai buries his face in Sky’s shoulder. “Your dad probably thinks I’m an idiot.”

“That makes two of us,” Sky tells him, pushing him off, just as the door to the guest bedroom opens.

***

“How was the bus ride?”

“Good. P’Palm packed me breakfast. Did I tell you she sent me a crate of apples after you looked at those tiles for her? I can’t look at apples anymore.”

“I told you I’d make sure you stayed in their good books.” Sky pours his father a second cup of tea and slides a plate of toast in his direction.

“Hmm.” His father’s gaze wanders to Sky’s right, where Prapai sits, following their conversation with his eyes. “How long have you two been seeing each other?”

“Six months.”

“Well...” Pai attempts to override him,

“P’Pai.” Sky turns around and glares at his boyfriend, who shrugs.

“What? Six months ago is when you agreed to go on a date with me. We met much before that. Rain’s party was —” Pai pretends to count on his fingers, like they haven’t had this conversation before, notably when Sky’d tried his best to talk Pai out of celebrating their six-month anniversary. “ — two hundred and nine days ago.”

“It doesn’t count.” Sky is insistent. “I didn’t even look at you at the party.”

“Sure you didn’t.” Pai grins at him as he grabs the spoon Sky’s reaching for.

“Besides, you suck at numbers.”

“I do not!” Pai counters. “But I knew you’d say that, so I asked Plerng and he agreed.” Speaking of Plerng… “Did he get back to you about that guest lecture next week, or do you need me to twist his arm –”

“P’Plerng said yes. You need to stop threatening your brother on my behalf.” Sky tells him sternly, but Pai only shrugs at him, unwilling to make any promises to that effect. With a resigned sigh, Sky reaches across the table for the sugar, only to have it whisked away by an ever-alert Pai.

“Tell me how much.” Pai unscrews the lid on the sugar.

“I’ll do it.” Sky’s assertion is ignored as Pai moves the jar out of Sky’s reach.

“You’ve been correcting drawings all week; give your wrists a break.” He insists as he holds up a level teaspoon.

With a resigned sigh, Sky nods. Pai drops the spoon in his tea and stirs it before he slides it back towards Sky. He waits for Sky to nod before he puts the spoon back into its plate and picks up his coffee cup.

“Six and a half months.” Sky concedes finally. “And I wasn’t looking at you at the party.”

“Whatever you say, my Sky.” Pai hums into his coffee.

“Six and a half months.” They both jump at the sound of Sky’s father’s voice, having completely forgotten he was there. Khun Van doesn’t appear to mind. He takes a long sip of his drink. “Isn’t that when you visited me to make sure I was in our neighbours’ good books?”

“It was the mid-semester break,” Sky tells him, matter-of-factly.

“That’s right.” Pai nods sagely at him. “And then you returned and gave me your number.”

And Sky has nothing to say to that, because it is the truth. That’s exactly how things had happened — he’d spent a week fretting over Pai and wondering about himself and whether he could do this.And then he’d done it; the memory of the day still makes him nauseous sometimes, when he thinks about it, wonders where he’d be if he hadn’t found the courage that day to give Pai, to give himself, a chance.

“Hmm. He worked every minute of that week, didn’t you? To keep me in people’s good books, of course, very selfless.”

Sky looks up, prepared to protest for the principle of it, but he stops when he sees the way Pai and his father are looking at each other across the table.

Like they both know something he doesn’t.

Like conspirators sharing an inside joke.

At his expense, maybe, but Sky decides he’ll let it go, just this once.

They do the washing up together, or more accurately, Pai washes up while Sky tries desperately to steal the kitchen sponge away from him.

“I told you. Relax.” He whispers to his boyfriend, careful to keep his voice down even though Sky’s father is all the way across the room, by the TV. “I don’t know what you’ll do to me if you end up with a twisted wrist.”

“P’Pai!” Sky hisses at him, stopping short of hitting him with the drying cloth when Pai’s phone rings and forces them apart for the second time that morning.

Pai frowns as he stares at the display screen. “It’s Mae.” He accepts the call and holds it to his ear.

“Mae. Yeah, Sky’s here. He says hi...”

His expression transforms from a sunny smile to open concern. “What do you mean? I thought the party would go on until — no, I – of course. I’m on my way, mae. Stay with him. Ben.”

That last word is meant for Sky as Pai hastily stuffs his phone into his pocket. “I don’t know what, but something’s happened.”

“Go.” Sky pats his arm. “Do you want me to come along?”

“I –” Pai hesitates before he shakes his head. “No, you should hang out with your Pa. I’ll text you.”

“Call me.” Sky corrects him. “If you need me to come over, call me.”

“Okay.” Pai agrees. “I will. Will you tell your Pa –” He looks over to the empty sofa in the living room.

“I’ll tell him.” Sky reassures him. “Go.”

***

“Where’s Pai?” His father casts a look around the kitchen as he returns from the bedroom with a box.

“He had to leave. He said to tell you bye.” Knowing Pai, it would have been a more eloquent version of the word – given how off-kilter his boyfriend’s been all morning, Sky suspects he would have bowed, or taken an oath. Either way, Sky thinks his interpretation suffices; he doesn’t need it to look like he’s trying to put in a good word for his boyfriend. Besides, he’s ninety per cent sure that his father likes Pai, and the fact that he’s asking about him at all is indication enough.

“That’s too bad.” His father holds the box out to him. “I hope he’ll be back.”

“He will.” Unless something serious has happened…no, there’s no reason to think like that.

“So, who’s Ben?”

“Pa!” Sky turns to his father, who is now leaning by the fridge. “You were listening in!” He doesn’t have the proof, but this feels like a skill his father has picked up from Rain.

“Not really.” His father scoffs at the accusation. “I tried very hard to make myself scarce. I don’t know what you’ve told your boyfriend about me, but he seemed terrified –”

“He wasn’t — terrified.” Sky rises to Pai’s defense before his father’s even done speaking. “He was just surprised.”

His father hmms disinterestedly before picking up where he left off. “Anyway, I couldn’t help overhearing, and even if I hadn’t.” He taps the corner of a drawing on the fridge door. “Ben’s name is all over your fridge.”

Sky can’t really challenge the evidence, so he decides to come clean instead.

“Ben is P’Pai’s son. He’s four.” Sky waves at the smiley shark by his father’s elbow. “And he likes sharks.”

His father frees the drawing from its magnet and takes a closer look at it. He flips it over to where Ben has inscribed it with his best rendition of Sky’s name.

“So, your old block game…” He nods as his eyes drift to the box that Sky’s propped onto the counter.

“I thought he might like it.”

The thought had come to him the other day, when they’d done the puzzle together. The wooden blocks from Sky’s childhood were fairly simple in their craftsmanship but solid. His father had made them for him out of an old wooden beam which they had then painted together, the three of them. They’d been Sky’s favourite toys, perhaps they’d even been prophetic, because here was Sky, two decades later, working in architecture and building actual structures. Then his mother had left, and Sky had shoved the blocks to the back of his cupboard, unable to play with them without thinking of her.

Then, that day, on Pai’s living room carpet, Sky had thought of the blocks again, but this time, the thought had been devoid of the usual wave of resentment that accompanied it; instead, he’d thought only of Ben, and of how he might like the game that Sky and his parents had so painstakingly put together.

He comes to, realising his father’s still talking.

“You look good. Like you’re sleeping at night.”

Because, of course, his father knows, despite Sky’s efforts to keep it all to himself for the better part of ten years. Whether it’s some sort of parental instinct or the fact that his father’s been paying attention to the three a.m. text message responses to questions he asked earlier in the day, the bags under his eyes when Sky’s answered their customary weekend video calls, Sky doesn’t really know.

All these years of thinking he was doing his best, and his father probably knew. Not the whole picture, but enough. He’ll grapple with that realisation later.

“Yeah.” He accepts his father’s judgment. “I am sleeping better. Work’s good, too, and P’Pai – he’s –” Sky shrugs, suddenly tongue-tied.

Wait, what was the question again?

“He likes you.” His father smirks at him. “I think that was the second thing he said to me this morning.” His father tacks the shark back to its designated place. “And I think I like him." Van's eyebrows knit together in a faux frown. "Does he always steal spoons out of your hands, though?"

And books and bags and anything else that hinders Sky from holding Pai's hand.

"He doesn't let me do anything." Sky huffs, his tone too fond for it to be a complaint. Opposite him, a knowing expression crosses his father's face. "What?"

"Nothing." Van scratches his head as his gaze wanders to the digital clock on the microwave. “You know, your uncle Fen asked me to invite you to this reunion – he’s got a niece visiting from Chiang Rai.” Sky suppresses a groan, because – and he loves his Uncle Fen, not just because the man is his landlord who lets him live here for free – but there’s always a niece where his uncle Fen is involved, even after Sky's made it abundantly clear that he has no interest in nieces or daughters or granddaughters. Sometimes the man conjures up a nephew to make Sky's life harder. “I guess I can’t persuade you to come along?”

“No thanks.” Sky will have to thank Pai for getting him out of this; he has an idea of what Pai would like. Something sweet, sweeter than sugar and vanilla.

"Your boyfriend doesn't let you do anything." His father throws Sky's words back at him, wrapped up in a smile.

***

Chapter Text

The atmosphere is off.

Pai notices it as soon as he steps into the house. His mother and Plerng are huddled together in her study, talking animatedly among themselves, their voices a steady hum that soothes the worry that currently has a hold over Pai. His mae is smiling, which is the last thing he expected to see because she had sounded concerned over the phone, upset even.

They look up when Pai steps in through the door, scanning the room for his son, but the plush bean bag where Ben lounges when he wants to join his Yaa in her reading is devoid of its usual occupant. The stack of picture books on the shelf next to the seat are neatly stacked, untouched.

“He’s in his room.” His mother informs him with a smile. “Cosy under his duvet. He said he doesn’t want hugs and that he’ll wait for his Pa.”

That bad, huh? Bad enough that Ben won’t even let his grandmother or his uncle comfort him. His perfect, happy boy is feeling guilty about something.

“What happened?”

His mother and Plerng exchange another look before she addresses him. “He got into a fight at the birthday party. He’s fine –” She rushes to clarify before Pai can rush out of the room.

“It was just – well…”

“What?” Pai doesn’t mean to raise his voice, it happens of his own accord. It doesn’t matter; he doesn’t need the clarification. The why won’t soothe his worry, won’t silence the screaming instinct that’s telling him to run, to get to Ben, to wrap his boy up in his arms and make it so that even the sun has to ask for permission before it can warm Ben’s skin.

“Ben started the fight.” Plerng shakes his head. Pai doesn’t miss the tiny, smug smile on his face. He sounds like he approves, like he might even be proud.

It’s all off; none of it makes sense.

His son? His Ben? Start a fight? Never. What would he fight over? Who would he fight – Pai’s not being biased when he says this, but Ben is the sweetest, friendliest kid he knows, and there’s not a classmate he doesn’t get along with.

“It wasn’t entirely his fault.” His mother chimes in. “Nong Jess –”

“Pigtails, teddy bear bag?” She nods at Pai’s description of Ben’s classmate.

“Right. They made jewellery at the party, N’Jess wanted to swap her bracelet for Ben’s necklace so she could give it to her mum. Ben refused, so she tried to swipe it and, well…”

“Ben threw Sharkie at her.” Plerng grins at him, every single one of his gleaming teeth on display. “Right at her face.”

“That’s…not good.” Pai murmurs, still failing to see why this is so funny.

“Of course not. I’ve spoken to Jess’ mother, and we’ve both apologised to each other. We agree it was bad all around. Benny’s pretty upset still. He knows he shouldn’t have thrown Sharkie at Jess, and her mother assures me she’ll have a talk with Jess about listening to people when they say no. It’s just –” Her expression softens; next to her, Plerng sobers up, keeps the smile in check. “ – Well, you should let him tell you the whole story.”

There it is again, that shared look between the two of them.Pai still doesn’t understand why they’re smiling like this is somehow a good thing.

***

He knocks on his son’s door before he pushes past it.

“Hey, Benny.” He addresses the lump on the bed. “You want to come out and talk to Pa?”

The mound under the sheets flips over and the duvet slides down to reveal his son’s face. Ben blinks at him, his big eyes watery and uncertain. The soft bedding hides his mouth, but Pai doesn’t need to look at it to know that his lips are quivering, and his cheeks are probably wet from tears.

His heart breaks in his chest with a crack that reverberates through him with the destructive force of a bullet. He bounds over to the bed and lifts one end of the duvet and manoeuvres his six-foot frame into a bed made for a restless four year old.

“Pa.” Ben squeaks as Pai slides in next to him..

“What’s wrong, Little Mouse?” Pai kisses the top of the curly head as it nuzzles into his chest. Little hands clutch at his t-shirt, and Pai wraps his arms more securely around Ben as he waits for the boy to speak. “Mhm? Are you sad?”

“I did a mean thing.” A tremor runs down the length of the boy’s little body. “I threw Sharkie at Ai Jess, and Yaa said we don’t throw at people because it’s not nice.”

Pai hums as he listens. “Yaa’s right, we don’t throw things at people, right? They can get hurt, and it hurts their feelings. But Yaa also told me that you said sorry, Benny, and that you promised not to do it again.”

The head that’s glued to his chest nods vigorously. “I told Ai Jess sorry and Ai Jess told me sorry.”

“Good.” Pai pats his head, tickles his fingers down the boy’s neck, until Ben is wriggling and pushing against him. “That’s a good promise.” He smiles as the first stifled laugh escapes his son’s lips. “Because who’s my good boy?”

“I am.” Ben agrees as he cranes his neck to look up at his father.

“That’s right.” Pai pulls him closer and pretends to chomp at Ben’s cheeks, knowing it will make his son laugh, especially right now when he’s scruffier than he should be. “You’re the goodest, goodest, goooodest boy.”

“Pa! Stop om nom!” Pai feels the tension seep away from his son’s body in real time. Ben nestles closer to him, flings a leg across Pai’s waist and traps him in place, not that Pai had any intention of leaving his son’s side.

“Benny.” Pai asks once Ben is settled against him, sandwiched between Pai and the oversized blue shark that has been the cause of all this trouble. “Will you tell me why you threw Sharkie at Ai Jess?”

“Because, Pa!” Ben’s voice takes on a tone of impatient indignation. "Ai Jess said she wanted to play exchange and I didn’t and then Ai Jess took my necklace. Pa –” He uses his grip on Pai’s t-shirt to prop himself up so he can look at his father, his little face arranged in an expression of unbridled disapproval that Pai swears he’s seen a million times before on Plerng. “It’s not nice to take other people’s things.”

“That’s right.” Pai nods, encouraging his son to go on. “It’s not.”

“But Ai Jess took my necklace like this! –” He makes a sudden snatching motion with his hand to demonstrate. “And then she didn’t give it back, even after I said please.” Ben huffs as he collapses onto Pai’s chest again. “So then I got angry and threw Sharkie at her. But Pa…” His voice falters again and he sniffles into Pai’s chest , his entire body shuddering as he fights tears. “Ai Jess broke my necklace.”

This is news to Pai; his mother hasn’t briefed him on this part of the story.

“Oh baby.” Pai pats his son’s back, kisses the top of his head. “I’m sorry. That’s not nice, it must have made you very sad. Why did she do that?”

Ben doesn’t answer right away. “Because.” He huffs finally. “She wanted the green circle –” He pauses, training his eyes on Pai to make sure he’s following along. Pai tries as best as he can to pretend that this is the case. “And I wanted the green circle because the necklace has to have a green circle, Pa! And then she said –” Ben’s eyes blaze in outrage as he pouts at his father. “ – that boys don’t wear necklaces, and so I should switch with her because necklaces are for Maes and I only have a Pa, but Pa —” Ben prattles on, before Pai can catch up to the turn this conversation’s taken. “ — Aa Plerng said boys and girls can wear anything, but Ai Jess said only Maes wear necklaces and then –” Another sniffle cuts him off. “ – she broke my necklace.”

Oh, he’s going to have words with Ai Jess’ mother.

“Look!” Ben’s already moved on; he digs through his pocket and retrieves a fistful of beads to show Pai. A bright green disc winks at him from the debris of mismatched paper and wood – the green circle at the centre of this controversy.

“Ai Jess’ mae said sorry, but Pa –” He empties the beads into Pai’s open palm. “ – it’s broken.”

Pai examines the assortment of papier mache in his palm. The beads aren’t particularly valuable, nothing that couldn’t be bought in bulk at a craft shop, but they clearly mean something to his son, and of course Ben has every right to feel as wronged as he does. Four – his four-year-old has been told by another four-year-old, no less, that he can’t have a necklace because he doesn’t have a mother. Oh, how Pai would love to know where his classmate picked up an idea like that…

His revenge on whoever he needs to exact it from will have to wait.

“You know, Benny.” Pai rolls the beads around on his palm. “I think if we work together, we can fix this necklace.”

“Really?” Ben kicks at the duvet as he pushes himself to a sitting position. Really, Pa? Can we make it pretty again?”

“Really.” Pai nods. “We can make it even prettier than it was, and then Pa can wear it to work on Monday.”

Ben shakes his head at the final part of that sentence. “No.” He jumps off the bed and hops over to his desk, from where he retrieves a second string of beads. “Red one for Pa.” He declares as he dangles the bracelet in front of Pai. He slides the elastic onto Pai's free hand where the misshapen beads shine smugly against tan skin. “Red one is for Pa.” Pai coos at the red diamond in the middle of the arrangement as Ben taps it for emphasis.

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Pai kisses the top of the boy’s head. “Pa loves it!”

“Welcome.” Ben picks up the green bead from Pai’s palm and asks again with a renewed urgency. “Can we fix green one now, Pa? Pleease?”

***

“P’Pai.” Sky mutes the show he’s not really watching as he answers the phone, careful to keep his voice down for the benefit of his father who returned from his reunion close to midnight, an hour ago. “Is Ben okay?”

“Yeah… yeah.” Pai’s voice is soft, like he’s also keeping his voice down so as not to disturb someone else’s sleep. “Sorry, I meant to call you earlier –”

“It’s fine.” Sky bats away the apology. “What happened?”

Pai doesn’t answer right away, but when he does, his voice is a rumble. “It’s a long story, I’ll have to tell you in person.” Pai’s voice grows distant as he turns away from the phone to speak to someone on the other end. Sky misses the words, but his tone makes it apparent that he’s talking to Ben, coaxing him to fall back asleep.

“Hang on.” Pai speaks again, his voice louder this time. “I’m on midnight water duty.” He explains. “We’re sleeping in my room tonight, because Ben didn’t want to disturb the monster under his bed.”

“That was kind of him.” Sky smiles.

“Wasn’t it?” Pai trails off like he means to finish the sentence, but can’t decide whether he should.

“What?” Sky enquires. “Say what you’re thinking.”

“I’m just – and I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m so angry at the four-year-old who was mean to my son today. They made up and they’re friends again, but she made him cry, Sky. and over something so –” Pai sighs. This is followed by silence, and the Pai’s talking to Ben again, fussing over him as he tucks him back into bed.

Good night, sweetheart.

The gentleness in his tone makes Sky’s heart skip a beat and he allows himself to drift off to the sounds of snuffling and rustling fabric and the tender, soft tone that Pai reserves for his son. Sky can imagine him perched at the edge of Ben’s bed, patting his son’s head until the boy drifts off to sleep, happy and at ease, his body and mind relaxed with the knowledge that he’s safe and loved, and that his father will always be there for him.

Pai has that effect on people; Sky’d be lying if he said he was immune to it.

“Her mother texted me – the kid’s, I mean. We’re going to have a long talk tomorrow, so that’s going to be fun.” Pai’s voice is back in Sky’s ear and takes a minute longer than he should have to reorient himself. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offload onto you.”

“P’Pai.” He says it more sharply than he means to as he snaps out of the hypnotic spell. He hopes the power of his glare will carry across through the phone because they’ve had this conversation before; Sky has glared at Pai before for forgetting that his thoughts are never an inconvenience to Sky.

“I’m being an idiot?”

“Got it in one.” Sky rolls his eyes, but fails to keep the smile off his face.

“Well, I’m smart.” Pai defends himself, speaking over Sky’s snort of disbelief. “Will you tell your Pa that? I don’t think he got the memo this morning – my fault, of course!”

“Tell him yourself.” Sky casts a look behind him at the dark corridor. His father is set to leave the following evening, and they have plans to cook together and watch a new film at the theatre, but Sky doesn’t think his father will mind a slight change of plans. “Come over for lunch tomorrow, you and Ben.”

“Really?” Pai sounds taken aback by the invitation. “You told your Pa about Ben?” Sky doesn’t know whether the surprise in his voice is endearing or offensive.

“I wasn’t going to take credit for all the art on my fridge. Of course I told him about Ben, why wouldn’t I?”

“Later.” Pai answers his question after a beat. “I’ll tell you another day, when my brain’s working again.”

“So next century.” Sky mutters under his breath, before he can help it.

“Mhmm, what was that?” There is an upward inflection in Pai’s voice, which lets Sky know he’s also smiling.

“Nothing. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, my Sky.”

***

He breaks the news to his father over morning tea.

“I asked P'Pai to join us at lunch. He's going to bring Ben along.”

His father takes a long sip of his tea as he scrolls through the news on his phone.

“Good.” He says, finally. “I’ll make Khao Pad if you can run down to the shops and buy prawns.”

The doorbell rings just as Sky’s father turns off the stove. The chime is followed by a flurry of impatient knocking.

Knock knock knock. The sound of a little fist against wood reverberates around the doorknob and puts a smile on Sky’s face.

“That’s them.” Sky declares, unnecessarily, as he bounds over to the door and flings it open.

“Hi!” Pai grins at Sky, his arms laden with bags. His enthusiasm is overshadowed by the child at his elbow who has been hopping impatiently on one leg, waiting to hurl himself at Sky.

“Aa Sky!” Ben throws himself and the plush shark he carries everywhere at Sky, with the force of a mini tsunami. His hands find purchase in the t-shirt around Sky’s waist – Sky swears Ben’s gotten taller since he last saw him because he’s certain Ben could not reach this far up when he saw him last.

“Hi Ben.” Sky still struggles to comprehend how a boy so small is able to nearly throw him off his feet, but he welcomes the affection as he wraps an arm around Ben and shepherds the child into the room, listening attentively to a story about a puppy they saw on the drive over, and leaving Pai to close the door.

“And then –” Ben kicks off his shoes and hops circles around Sky. “The puppy did this!” He does his best impression of a howl. The sound elicits a new round of giggles, and Sky can’t help but laugh along.

They make it to the kitchen just as Sky’s father reaches the door. Ben stops mid-howl and retreats behind Sky’s leg, torn between curiosity and shyness as he peeks at the strange man who’s come up to stand next to Sky.

A sense of deja-vu washes over Sky as the memory fades into focus: the shy boy with the curious eyes peeking at Sky from behind his grandfather’s leg, watching, waiting to approach his Pa’s new friend.

Look at them now.

“Benny.” Pai catches up to them, reaching out with his hand to pat his son’s head reassuringly. “This is Aa Sky’s Pa. Do you want to say hello?”

Ben thinks about it, his fingers cutting ridges into the denim of Sky's jeans. Then, he holds out a hand for Sky's father to shake. “Hello, Aa Sky's Pa.”

His father takes his hand with a smile. “Hello, Ben.”

“A handshake,” Pai whispers to Sky. “I took him to a board meeting once.”

“I told you.” Sky whispers back at him as Ben introduces his Pa to Sharkie, lets him pet the stuffed shark’s head. “He's smarter than you.” He looks at the bag in Pai’s hand and suppresses a sigh. “What did you do?”

Pai has the gall to look innocent. “What?” He asks. “This? It’s nothing.”

“But?” Sky refuses to bow down.

“But.” Pai opens the bag just enough for Sky to catch a peek. “I brought your Pa some tea.”

“Some? That’s a whole estate.” Sky counters, his eyes widening at the vacuum-sealed cakes.

“It’s so good, though. He’ll finish it in no time. Promise.”

***

They begin lunch with a negotiation.

“I want to sit next to Aa Sky.” Ben stares up at the three men as they pull up chairs at the dining table—Sky’s square table seats four, a chair on each side.

“You can sit here, Benny.” Pai points to the chair on Sky’s left, but Ben shakes his head, unwilling to compromise.

“I want to sit next to Aa Sky, Pa.” His tone is insistent as he rejects the notion of three feet of space being next to Sky. Pai looks sheepishly at Sky for help, but Sky only shrugs.

“You can’t expect him to follow what you don’t,” Sky tells him as he drags the chair over to his side and crams it next to his. “I want to sit next to Benny, too.” He holds the chair steady as the boy clambers onto it.

A hand clamps down on Pai’s shoulder, and he turns to look at Sky’s dad.

“Come on, Pai.” Khun Van’s voice is laced with amusement. “You can sit next to me, I promise it’s not as bad as it sounds.”

After lunch, Ben continues to assert his monopoly over Sky, so Pai chooses to bow out and focus on Van instead. The two men retreat to the kitchen, where Pai insists on washing up while Sky’s father brews them cups of jasmine tea.

“He’s a good kid.” Khun Van casts a look towards the living room where Ben and his son are busy stacking wooden blocks on top of one another.

“He is.” Pai agrees, his eyes swimming with wonder as he watches his son guide the block in his boyfriend’s hand over to where he wants to place it. It’s still so unreal, watching the two of them like this, ensconced in their own world and oblivious to everything around them. Plerng jokes about it, but they all know it’s true – Sky is Ben’s favourite person, and Ben’s beginning to think of Sky as a permanent fixture, a part of his family, and Sky doesn’t seem to mind. He also doesn’t understand how significant it is, the fact that he’s told his father about Ben, and Pai knows that it’s unfair to compare Sky to the others – the ones who couldn’t even remember Ben’s name but wanted him banished to boarding school – but he’s spent so long protecting his son, fighting for him that the fact that it could be so easy, so natural, like an invisible intake of breath, hadn’t occurred to him.

“I’m very lucky.” The words are meant for himself more than anything else, but Sky’s father responds anyway.

“Hmm…” Khun Van sounds unconvinced. “It’s not just luck…” He strains the tea into cups. “It’s also the fact that he has such an attentive dad.” He hands a cup to Prapai. “He might be a perfect angel, and he might have an army of admirers.” The two men glance again at Sky, who is dutifully following Ben’s instructions and trying his best to balance a cube atop a triangle. “But none of that matters if you don’t have a parent who cares.” He looks over his cup, a challenging glint in his eyes, a twin to the one Sky directs his way when Pai says something audacious. “Trust me, I would know.”

Pai waits for him to elaborate, realising he hasn’t gotten here with Sky yet, and doesn’t know anything about his family, beyond the fact that his father lives in Lopburi.

Sky’s father casts another look in the direction of his son before speaking again. “Sky’s mother and I – we got divorced when he was eight. It wasn’t pleasant.” He grimaces as he recalls some unhappy memory, one that Pai’s not privy to. “Luckily, I had the whole neighbourhood on my side, on Sky’s side, it takes a village, you know?”

Pai nods. He does know, all too well.

“What they don’t tell you.” Sky’s dad continues, his voice a conspiratorial whisper. “Is that the village can only help; it can’t replace the parent. I learnt that the hard way, but luckily, I was able to pull it together before I did something wrong by Sky.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and Pai doesn’t prod.

“You did something right.” Pai says instead, not bothering to keep the adulation from seeping into his voice, if he sounds like a stricken fool, then so be it. “Because your son is the best person in the whole world.”

Sky’s father stares at him for a long, loaded moment, his gaze apprising, like he’s looking for something specific, like he’s examining the depths of Pai’s soul to glean something significant. Eventually, after what feels like an eternity, he rolls his eyes.

“You’re only saying that to get into my good books.”

He is Sky’s father, alright.

“I hope it’s working.” Pai grins at him. His shamelessness works on Sky; it might just work on his father, too.

***

“Pa!” Ben finally remembers that he exists when he climbs into his lap, chocolate milk in one hand, Sharkie in the other, as he joins the adults with their cups of tea. He glances over at Sky before craning his neck to whisper urgently into Pai’s ear.

“You want to do it right now?” Pai asks him with a smile, an arm wrapped around his son to keep him from sliding off.

Ben nods his head yes as he bumps Sharkie against Pai’s thigh.

“Okay.” Pai sets his cup down on the side table and reaches into the breast pocket of his shirt. “Make sure you tell him what it is, okay?”

Another nod, as Ben takes the small pouch from Pai. He leaps off his father’s lap and hops across the living room to the sofa Sky shares with his father. Van shifts to give him space as the boy props an elbow up on the sofa cushion for balance.

“Aa Skyyyyy.” Ben begins as Sky puts down his teacup and leans forward until he’s eye level with Ben. “I made you a –” He twists around, eyes wide and inquiring as he looks to his father for help.

“A pres –” Pai singsongs helpfully.

“A present.” Ben nods confidently. “For you.” He holds out a tiny cloth pouch, its mouth pulled closed with gold ribbon.

A present. For him?

Gingerly, nervously, Sky accepts the felt bag.

“Open it.” Pai’s voice is faraway and muddled, but Sky doesn’t need the encouragement. He opens the little pouch to reveal a string of multicoloured beads of different shapes and sizes. “I –” His fingers trace the shapes and come to rest on the centre bead, which is a flat disc of a marbled green. “I – you made me a necklace.” He says, when he finally finds his voice.

A necklace. For him?

“I love it. Thank you, Benny.” He puts it on. The lightweight beads settle against his chest, sending a fresh rush of warmth coursing through Sky. When he looks up to thank Ben again, his heart melts at the pleased grin on Ben’s face.

“Green one for Aa Sky.” Ben recites happily, his cheeks tinted red with pride.

“You remembered my favourite colour.” Sky’s voice is choked with emotion as he connects the dots. “I –” He fights the uninvited prickling of his eyes as he looks over to Pai, who is looking right at him, his own eyes shining with pride. “Can I give you a hug?”

Ben flings his arms around Sky’s torso in response, and then, before Sky can thank him, for the necklace, for thinking about him, for something that Sky’s not even sure he can begin to articulate, Ben’s clambering onto the sofa and making himself at home in Sky’s lap, his fingers tracing the waves on the green disc that dangles from his neck.

Sky blinks uselessly as he stares at the top of Ben’s head, nestled now in the crook of his neck. The child continues to play with the beads, mumbles names and words when he looks up, his sparkling eyes searching Sky’s face for answers, for agreement, for comfort. With a necklace and a hug, Ben’s destroyed Sky’s ability for coherent speech.

All he can do is feel – a fierce, overwhelming, all-encompassing emotion that he can’t yet name.

Sky musters the courage to look across the room at Pai, who is lazily cradling Sharkie in his arms, his eyes fixed on Sky, on Ben, attentive, sharp, like they always are.

His boyfriend raises an eyebrow, his question apparent.

You okay?

Sky shakes his head.

I’m fine.

He’s not. Fine doesn’t even begin to cover it.

Wordlessly, Pai holds up his right hand so Sky can see the bracelet on his wrist, where a red disc kisses his bronzed skin.

“Benny made them at a birthday party yesterday,” Pai says for Sky’s father’s benefit. “One for each of us.”

“They’re beautiful. Good job making them, Ben.” Khun Van taps one of the beads around Sky’s neck. Ben squirms closer into Sky’s chest, mumbling happy nonsense in response to the compliment.

“Red one for Pa, green one for Aa Sky.” Ben repeats as he kicks his feet in the air and snuggles into Sky.

***

“You know…” His father tells him when they’re by themselves in the guest bedroom and Sky’s helping him with his bags. Pai is on the sofa with Ben; the man has insisted on driving them to the bus terminal, and won’t hear of Sky’s father taking a taxi. “You made me a necklace once, out of ribbons. I still have it in my tie box. I should wear it at your wedding.”

“Pa!” The happy buzzing in Sky’s mind clears abruptly at that singular statement from his father.

“It’s not like that.” He mumbles as he hands his father his glasses.

“No?” His father examines the glasses against the dying light that filters in from the window. “Because it looks like that.” He half-turns to Sky and holds out his glasses. “Maybe you need these.”

Sky glares at his father; he stares back at him, calm, unabashed, two sets of amber eyes battling each other. We’re not –” What? His mind screams at him, resistant, refusing to accept whatever convoluted idea Sky’s suddenly trying to feed it.

We’re not what? He’s your boyfriend. You said he was yours. His son made you cry today, hypocrite.

“It’s not like that.” He repeats, for the benefit of his mind, more than anything else. “We’re not getting married.”

“Why?” His father seems surprised at the assertion. “Because it looks like the two of you –” He smiles at the necklace that shines against Sky’s chest “, — the three of you – are doing pretty well. This isn’t just a fling–”

“Pa!” What – how – why is he having this conversation with his father?

“Or you wouldn’t have introduced me to him.” His father barrels on. “Has Pai said he doesn’t want to?”

Sky can’t help but snort at the implication that Pai would be the one drawing the boundaries in this context. “I’m saying I don’t –” He clears his throat as he rephrases the answer. “I’m saying it.” There, that’s more accurate.

This statement has his father even more flummoxed. He stares pointedly at Sky, like he’s waiting for him to backpedal, to revise his denial.

“What?” Sky snaps. This is getting ridiculous; his father has only just met his boyfriend, he’s only just met P’Pai – six months, fine, six and a half months is nothing – this ambush is unwarranted.

“I just always thought it was something you wanted. Love. Marriage. Settling down.” His Pa smiles at him like he’s just revealed a lesser-known truth about his son. “Which was nice, considering how things went with your mother and —” He shakes his head as he dispels the thought, too late; Sky already knows what he was about to say. “I mean, you always watched all those Frost Patheera films with the happily ever afters.”

“Those were action films!” Sky is aghast at this misassessment of his favourite actor, at having something so unrelated dragged into this ridiculous debate.

“Sure. But he always gets married in the end, or runs away to an island to live with the beautiful girl, or —” He frowns as he breaks off. “ — that one about the ship? Didn’t he secretly end up starting a family with the villain?”

Sky doesn’t dignify this pointless tangent with an answer.

“Fine.” His father shrugs eventually. “Don’t listen to me. You never do, but I’m always right.”

“No, you’re not.” Sky reacts to his dad’s point with belligerence. He has a list — several pages long — of all the times his father has been wrong – the colour he painted his kitchen wall, for instance, the haircut he gave Sky in middle school, the way he thought sending Sky to school in Bangkok would give him more opportunities, teach him responsibility – oh, he’d been wrong wrong there, and he doesn’t even know.

“Fine.” His father repeats, sounding anything but conciliatory. “You’re right, you’re not in love with your boyfriend.”

And how is Sky supposed to counter that?

***

Chapter Text

Love.

The forbidden word echoes in his head, throbs painfully behind his eyes, which are bloodshot from a harrowing, sleepless night. He hasn’t had one of those in a while, so the fact that this one showed up at the end of what really was a perfect day is something Sky’s really, really annoyed at.

He doesn’t have time for this. He has an early morning class, a staff meeting, and plans with Rain, and he can’t afford to be sleep-deprived. Sky stifles a yawn as he stares at himself in the mirror. His hair’s a mess, sticking out at every end, taunting him for having tossed and turned all night. Sky’s gaze travels from his head to the little emerald disk at his chest. He thumbs at it, like he has all night long, turning it over in tune to every thought he’s had all night.

The main ones, of course, were centred around that dangerous word that his father had just thrown at Sky like a bomb.

Love.

Sky doesn’t even know what the word means.

He thought he did, with Gun. He had loved Gun, foolishly, openly, even after it became abundantly clear that Gun did not feel the same way, that his feeling verged on the polar opposite, really, if Sky were to be honest with himself. But regardless of how Gun had felt about him, Sky had loved Gun, and that overwhelming feeling had come with consequences. It had kept Sky shackled to him longer, made him blind to the destruction unfolding around him. Worst of all, it had kept him hopeful. Hopeful that one day Gun would change, that he’d open his eyes one morning and realise just how deep his feelings for Sky ran,and then he’d give up the cigarettes and alcohol and sleeping around and start showing an interest in Sky’s life, in his hobbies. Eventually, he’d meet Sky’s friends, then his father, and they’d be happy. Happy and in love.

Instead, Gun had hurt him,tried to break him, maybe he’d even succeeded in some ways, and then when he was done, he’d discarded Sky, like he was garbage.

A bloody waste of time.

That final text message on a phone he no longer uses flashes into his mind. Sky shakes his head to get rid of the image. None of that, he’s already promised himself that he won’t go back there, won’t dwell on the past, won’t put himself through any of the things that he suffered with when he was with Gun.

He’s walked away from Gun, leaving everything about the man in his past. Gun can’t touch him now.

And that’s the problem.

Because, despite it being one-sided, desperate, and undeserved, he had loved Gun, and it had nearly destroyed him.

And Pai…

He likes Pai. A lot, even if he’s had trouble admitting it. Lately, it has become easier, though, to let Pai know how he feels, to not feel as embarrassed when Rain asks him about how his boyfriend is doing. That’s another point where Pai differs from Gun. Pai is happy to be spoken about; he doesn’t mind that Sky tells Rain about him, that he tells his best friend about them. He’s not embarrassed about Sky meeting his family, he practically buzzes with joy any time Sky lets slip that he’s making plans with Plerng or Phan or his mother.

The necklace twinkles in the mirror again. Ben.

Pai had literally lost his ability to think the day Sky had met Ben for the first time. Sky had loved meeting Ben, the sense of achievement he’d felt when he’d won the boy’s approval with his shark socks – the feeling had trumped everything, no other win in Sky’s life even came close, not winning the college prize for the best graduate project, not landing this job, not anything.

How do you know he won’t hurt you?

He’d asked Rain that question many months ago, and Rain had answered that he just knew. Sky had listened then, not because he believed it, but because he’d been willing to keep an open mind about it all.

Now, he’s beginning to understand where Rain is coming from; there are things he just knows about Pai.

That Pai has the thickest skin in the world. He is offended by nothing.

That Pai is fiercely dedicated to his family.

That Pai is dependable, safe, not just for Sky, but for anybody that he crosses paths with.

That he’s a shameless flirt, but only for Sky.

That he makes Sky feel better about himself, encourages him to be more fearless, more confident.

But does he love Pai? Can he love Pai?

Should he be allowed to love at all?

***

“...love Pai?” Sky almost hits his head on the wall behind him with the force with which he looks up at Rain’s sentence.

“Wh- what?” He stammers, wondering if he’s slipped up somehow, or if Rain’s suddenly developed emotional awareness and seen right through him.

“Your apple pie is going cold.” Rain points to the dessert in front of Sky. “I thought you loved pie, but you haven’t even touched it.” A hopeful spark lights up his eyes. “If you don’t want it…”

“I’m eating it!” Sky shoves a piece into his mouth to demonstrate, before Rain can get any more ideas.

“Did you miss lunch again?” His friend leans back in his chair and considers him thoughtfully.

“I was busy.” Sky manages through a mouthful of pie. It’s mostly true – he’d had a free lunch, but then Pai had texted saying he was going to be stuck in meetings and Sky hadn’t been able to justify taking over a cafe table all by himself, so he’d stayed in the staff room, catching up on corrections and listening to his colleague Sig rant about a vendetta he had against the faculty administrator. He’d been busy – his decision had nothing to do with Pai.

“What are you doing this Friday after work?” Whatever Rain was about to say is derailed by the new thought that pops into his head.

“Friday?” Sky doesn’t think he has plans. “Nothing. Why?”

“Want to go see a movie?” Rain slides his phone towards Sky. “The new Frost Patheera –”

“No.” It’s not his favourite actor’s fault that he’s been dragged into this mess, but it doesn’t stop Sky from taking it out on him anyway. “How come you have time anyway? Did P’Phayu shake you off?”

He regrets it as soon as the words are out; they sound mean-spirited and malicious, a product of the irritation that has been niggling at Sky all morning. Luckily for him, Rain only shrugs them off as he looks at Sky with a pout. “He did.” He looks at Sky like a wounded animal. “He has an important race that night, and he said it’d be better if I didn’t come along, and we’re working overtime this Saturday to meet a deadline – this week is so unfair!.”

Rain’s told him about the race track in the past, a secret circuit frequented by a range of people, most of them harmless, some of them terrifying enough to warrant a bodyguard. Phayu is the chief mechanic for the owners, and while that comes with its own level of immunity, there are race days when things are bound to get rowdy and charged, and that’s when Phayu asks – no, insists – that Rain stay at home. It’s non-negotiable, and for that Sky is grateful.

He must really love Rain.

Sky groans as he buries his face in his hands.

“Sky?” Rain attempts to prise Sky’s face free from his hands. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Sky lets his arms drop limply to his sides and focuses on glaring at the apple pie.

“Sky…” There’s a telltale inflection in Rain’s voice, an indication that he’s not going to let this go.

“Nothing.” Sky rushes to interrupt him. “I’m just tired.” It’s true, he looks wrecked and Rain’s probably noticed that too. “Yeah, fine, let’s do the movie.”

***

Day Two.

Sky watches the sky outside his window go from navy blue to yellow.

He wants to punch the sky.

His phone buzzes on his bedside table. Sky reaches for it with a sigh, squinting at the new message through painfully dry eyes.

P’Pai

Morning, my Sky. <3

I had a dream about you.

It was very nice.

Tell you all about it over dinner tonight?

A smile makes its way up Sky’s face despite his foul mood. Sky types out a message, telling Pai to get a hold of himself, seconds before the phone slips out of his hands and smacks him on his face. His phone beeps back immediately.

P’Pai

What do you mean you don’t go to dinner with strangers?

Skyyyy

We’ve only been apart 24 hours

Wait

The smile slips off Sky’s face as Pai turns the tables on him.

Is this your way of saying you miss me?

And that I need to make it up to you?

Because

I have a couple of ideas… ;)

Just thgjhf…

The words blur in front of him as Sky stifles a yawn. Oh, now he’s sleepy?

He rolls out of bed with a little whine, thankful that he only has one class to teach for the day.

***

“Ajarn Sky!”

Rina, one of the students from his design thinking class, is waiting for him as he steps out of the staffroom.

“I wanted to share my living room design plan, if you were free…” She’s shy, uncertain of her words, but perfect in her technical skills and her grasp of concepts. She’s easily one of the brightest students in her class.

“Sure.” Sky leads them back towards his desk and invites her to pull up a chair.

“So, the living room plan is pretty solid.” She brings up her design on her tablet. “But I’m having trouble with this little niche here.” She taps on the bottom right corner with her stylus. “I’m torn between leaving it like this or enclosing this square into a closet.”

Sky considers the plan; there’s something very familiar about these dimensions and the space division. It dawns on him just as his finger sweeps the painting in the centre of the room: a mountainscape.

This plan is a near replica of P’Pai’s living room.

It’s not surprising; it’s a fairly standard layout, but it sets off a strange spasm in Sky’s side, a slow-splintering ache that spreads from his waist to his chest like a slow-unfurling vine. He hasn’t been to the house in a full week owing to their busy schedules.

Now, as he blinks at the lines and measurements and conjures sofas and side tables and pots of bonsai to fill the grid, it hits him with the sharpness of a jagged shard of ice.

He misses the house. He misses Pai’s home. He misses lying on the carpet and playing games with Ben and sharing wine with Phan while she tells him all about the crazy galas she ends up at. He misses running into Pai’s mum in the garden and helping her repot the begonias and gerberas.

It’s only been a week since the pizza party, but Sky misses it all.

“...love seat?” For the second time that week, that wretched word drags Sky back to the present. He tries as best as he can to mask the confusion as he tries to derive the question from the context.

Rina taps at the squares in the corner.

In Pai’s house, this is the reading nook, a little world demarcated by an inbuilt bookcase, an overstuffed armchair and a standing lamp.

“Yes,” Sky forces the words out, eager to be done with this consultation in time for lunch. “Put in a love seat and a low coffee table.”

***

Sky smiles as he accepts the takeaway order from N’Six.

“Khun Pai’s not coming?” She asks disappointedly, as she looks over Sky’s shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of everyone’s favourite patron.

“No.” Sky forces a smile on his face as he scolds himself mentally for being this bothered by his boyfriend’s popularity. “I’m going to him today.”

That’s the grand plan that he’s devised in the last half hour, because enough is enough, he can’t wait until dinner time. His love conundrum is separate from the fact that he misses his boyfriend.

He allows himself that liberty.

He makes the ten-minute walk to the orange-roofed building in eight. Pai’s is the only lawyers’ office in the building , located in a suite on the seventh floor. It is only as he steps out of the lift in the carpeted foyer, that Sky begins to have second thoughts.

Maybe he shouldn’t just saunter in.

Pai would. The voice inside his head points out. He does, every day, in a madly-unaffordable suit, cinched and tailored in all the right places that always causes Sky’s gaze to wander, to linger where it probably shouldn’t, not when they’re in public. Fine, his boyfriend’s attractive, so sue him.

He allows himself that indiscretion too.

His inner voice is right; if Pai can swoop in and take over Sky’s cafe, then Sky has every right to do the same in his place of work. With renewed confidence, he takes a step towards the reception.

***

It’s just that he’s never been very good at surprises.

Two — that’s how many times it took Sky to admit that maybe he was just bad at surprising people, a little cursed at it, even.

The first had been when aged nine, Sky had decided to surprise his parents with a pair of clay mugs that he’d shaped in art class and had been incredibly proud of. The mugs were too thin to use, and had a tendency to crumble and crack whenever Sky handled them; they hadn’t been good for anything other than vaguely resembling an archaeological find, but Sky had been proud of them and had wanted to give them to his parents as a gift so they could all celebrate his creative triumphs . He’d even painted them his Ma and Pa’s favourite colours — blue and orange.

He’d brought them home from school, carefully wrapped in newspaper and pleaded with his Yaa to be allowed to stay up until his parents got home from work. He had waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until just his Pa had returned, his face wet despite the dry heat of the summer night, and smelling strongly of something that made Sky’s nose itch. His Pa had assured him that he loved the surprise and that he would cherish the mugs forever, and that he was sure his ma would love them too, just like she loved Sky.

His father still has the blue mug up on his bedroom shelf; the orange one for his mother lies buried among the marigolds in their garden, where Sky had smashed it against the garden wall, when, aged ten,he’d had to accept that his mother wasn’t going to return.

Not even for him.

Because despite what his father said, she didn’t love the mug and she didn’t love him.

The second time, of course, had been with Gun.

Two months from the day when Gun had met him at that seedy bar that Sky and his classmates had managed to sneak into, Sky had decided that he had wanted to surprise his boyfriend, to make up for the fact that, according to Gun, Sky had been neglecting him. So, to make up for his inattention, Sky had lined up after school and brought them food, a fluffy pastry, a seasonal trend that all the couples in his class had adopted as their love language. Maybe it would work for Sky the way it did for the others — convince Gun once and for all, that Sky was serious about him, that Sky adored him, that contrary to what Gun said, Sky wasn’t stringing him along, wasn't playing with him by smiling and laughing with his schoolmates, or the strangers he met at the club. Yes,he was new to this and still learning what it was like to love, but Sky had wanted to learn, he had wanted to be perfect.

For Gun.

Sky had slipped into Gun’s office, a rickety shed that Gun said was a temporary inconvenience until they moved into a more respectable establishment. He’d navigated the discarded food wrappers and cigarette butts scattered across the yellowing mosaic floor, and made it to the back room where Gun had put together a desk, its surface overflowing with papers and brochures and takeout containers.

“What’re you doing here?” Gun had sounded irritated, barely looking up from his phone. “I’m in a meeting.”

“I wanted to see you.” Sky had held up the pink box. “I brought you a treat.”

“Oh?” That had made Gun look up, the interest in his eyes swiftly extinguished once he’d realised that Sky was referring to food. “That looks gross. I don’t want it.”

“Come on, P’Gun.” Sky had persevered, swallowed the lump in his throat and tried his best to sound sweet and not whiny. “We can share. You can take a break for a bit, no?”

It must not have sounded sweet enough, because Gun had finally looked up at him, a dangerous smirk playing at his lips.

Then it had disappeared, shattered by the ice in his voice. “Are you telling me what to do?”

“N-no.” Sky remembers he had stammered, taken a step back towards the door.

He should have run and never looked back.

“It sounded like you were.” He had sneered at Sky, who had stood rooted to the spot and watched as Gun had torn open the pretty box and used his fingers to claw out a chunk of the pastry. He’d made a show of tasting it, before spitting it back into its box.

“Disgusting.” Gun had spat again for effect, not bothering to clarify what he was referring to. “I have a bad taste in my mouth now, baby.” The oily sneer had returned as he’d gotten to his feet and caught Sky by the arm. “And what have I said about you coming to me in uniform?”

“I came straight from school, I wanted to surprise you.” Sky had hated the way his voice had quivered, had made him look weak, unworthy, pathetic, all the parts of him that Gun said he hated. The grip on his arm had tightened as Gun had leant in closer, close enough for Sky to smell the all-pervasive stench of stale smoke that emanated from Gun and overwhelmed his natural scent to the extent where even the faintest tinge of cigarette smoke made Sky’s stomach churn in apprehension.

It was only much later that Sky had been able to correctly name that emotion, to identify it for what it was: fear,

“And now I have a surprise for you.”

That was the day Sky had learnt that surprises were only ever bad with Gun.

***

“Can I help you?” The rosy-cheeked receptionist looks up from her phone as Sky approaches the desk, armed with six cups of coffee. “Delivery?” She asks helpfully, and Sky wonders how many delivery people she’s seen dressed in linen shirts and trousers.

Then again, this is Pai’s fancy office.

“I’m here to see P’ Pa – Khun Prapai.” He remembers at the last minute to tack on the idiot’s actual name.

“Oh.” The receptionist taps at her keyboard. “Did you have an appointment? I’m afraid Khun Prapai isn’t taking walk-ins at the moment. If you’d like an appointment –” More tapping. “ – his next free date is…let’s see, not until next October.”

Next October? That’s several months away. How busy is his boyfriend, and if he is this busy, why the hell has he been swooning over Sky in the cafe?

“What name shall I put down…?” Sky shakes his head at her question as he fights back a mixture of annoyance and embarrassment?

But Pai’s busy, and Sky sucks at surprises.

Well, that deflates Sky’s confidence substantially.

He should just say it, tell her that he’s just dropping in with coffee, just trying to get a look at his stupid, handsome boyfriend like he’s allowed to do.

“It’s –” Fine, I’ll just disappear, thank you and goodbye, is what he’s going to say before he is interrupted.

“P’Sky!”

Relief floods Sky’s being as Phan approaches them, looking just as sharp and put together as her brother in a lilac pantsuit. “Did you come to see me?” She beams at him.

“I did.” Sky holds up the coffee. “Middle one’s yours.”

“Vanilla?” Phan’s eyes light up as she takes the proffered cup. “P’Pai doesn’t deserve you, truly. P’Joy, he’s with me.” She addresses the receptionist as she drags Sky away. “We should get away from her before she starts another rumour about you.”

“Another?” Sky sputters.

Phan nods earnestly as she leads him through the open-plan office, turning heads as they go.

“She told everyone you were – you know what, it doesn’t matter.” She rolls her eyes in Joy’s direction. “P’Joy has an incredible imagination, and she’s also really good at answering the phone and scheduling meetings, surprisingly.” They stop in front of a heavy wooden door. “I’m glad you’re here.” She whispers conspiratorially to Sky. “He’s in a horrid mood today. I don’t think I’ve seen him this angry in… well, years.”

Pai? Angry? Sky’s spine prickles in warning.

“Why?” He manages to ask.

“Difficult client.” Phan shrugs, missing the shiver that runs down Sky’s back as he fights the sudden sense of foreboding that threatens to overcome him. “Phi hates his guts, but is forced to represent him until the end of their contract. I’ve told him to hand him over to me, but you know what he’s like.” She scowls at Sky. “Noble.”

Sky scoffs in spite of himself.

“I know, right? C’mon,” Phan pushes the door open. “I’ll take you to his office”

***

The smartly dressed woman looks up from her desk as Sky and Phan step into the room.

“P’Tan, this is –”

“Khun Sky.” The woman smirks knowingly. “Khun Prapai’s always texting him during meetings.”

“I’m…sorry.” Sky’s not sure who he’s apologising for, but the woman - P’Tan, shakes her head.

“Don’t bother. You’re also the reason he’s started reading source material again.”

“The Land Laws.” Phan nods sagely as the two women exchange a knowing look.

Sky tries and fails to make sense of any of it. Instead, he holds out his takeaway carrier and offers P’Tan one of the extra coffees he bought just for this purpose, a bribe to win over any new faces he might need on his side. He has a feeling P’Tan is one of those people.

“Is he still being difficult?” Phan looks at a second door, situated across from P’Tan’s desk. This must be the main office, Pai’s office.

“He’s thunderous. He sent the interns away; he wants to sort it out on his own before the four ‘o’ clock meeting. Now he’s making threats.”

“We can’t be at threat level: threat already!” Phan leans over P’Tan’s desk. “Ugh, four ‘o’ clock meeting, he’s going to be so annoying and yelly.” Phan grumbles as she takes a sip of her vanilla latte. “P’Sky.” She turns to him, a conspiratorial glint in her eyes. “What’ll it take to persuade you to take one for the team?”

Sky blinks at her, unable to spot the scheme in those innocent eyes. Funny, he’d have no trouble catching Pai out, but his skills fall short when it comes to his sister. “What do you mean?”

“Just…” Phan shrugs. “...cheer him up.”

And then she grins.

Even P’Tan, Pai’s right-hand woman, nods at him. “I’ll hold his calls.” She says, like that’s supposed to mean anything.

“Excellent.” Phan springs into action as she pushes Sky to the second door. “No pressure, P’Sky, but we’ll owe you forever if you get us out of the four p.m. screaming meeting.”

With a final push, she throws him to the wolf.

***

He’s this close to setting the world on fire, to telling his client to go to hell, where they’d actually be happy to have him. Pai’s only representing him on a corporate issue around contracts, but there is no doubt in his mind that he’s three questions away from uncovering skeletons in his closet, the kind that will most certainly amount to criminal charges.

He’s not a detective, he’s a lawyer, and it’s his job to wrap up this bloody migraine of a corporate issue and move on.

And later, maybe someone can tip off the cops, make some strong insinuations.

Not him, because that would be illegal, but somebody.

His phone rings just as he’s struggling to read the last paragraph of this typo-ridden draft because none of his interns know how to spell.

“What?” He snaps into the phone, cradling it in the crook of his shoulder as he continues to scrawl notes in the margins.

“Hello to you, too, darling brother.”

“Plerng, I swear to God if this –”

“Oh, shut up.” His brother interrupts him. “If you think you’re going to bully me today – I’ve spent all day listening to bloody Khun Cherry from Beijing tell me the plants we picked out for her boutique are ‘too fat’. So if you’re pissed off, go punch a wall. Spare me”

They could do this all day, snarl at each other and get nowhere.

“Fine.” Pai reins in his voice. “Why are you calling?”

“Did you look at the file I put on your desk?”

“Everyone in this bloody office has put a file on my desk today…” Pai slams shut the file he’s been reading, and scans the desk for the file his brother’s talking about. It peeks at him, green leather in a sea of maroon cardboard. Pai extracts it from the bottom of the pile. ”What am I looking at?”

“The guy you asked about, the creepy club owner.” Pai doesn’t need to see his brother to know he’s scowling as he continues, his voice dripping with disdain. “He’s a real piece of work. He likes to go by ‘club owner’ but he’s really just an oily pervert… it’s not good, barely legal.”

Stop’s backer is a creep? Colour Pai shocked.

“Elaborate.” Pai asks, knowing he’s going to need to know the details, sooner or later.

“He’s a wannabe, bootlicks all his investors in the hopes they’ll throw money at him. Rumour has it that he’s tried to buy loyalty by pushing escorts onto his biggest names, and if that didn’t work, blackmail.”

Again, what a surprise.

“But phi…” And now there is no masking the disgust in Plerng’s voice. “He has a thing for kids… lures them in with the promise of alcohol and then –”

He doesn’t need to complete the sentence; Pai doesn’t need him to.

“Look, there’s more, but I’ll tell you at home, Miss Fat Plants is looking this way, and I think I’m going to need to throw up before I can go back to her. Just look at the file.”

He rings off, leaving Pai to skim the file in front of him. He’s been told not to judge a book by its cover, but in his official opinion, this man looks every bit the criminal that his brother says he is. Scams, illegal betting, unproven charges of adulteration and spiking, assault – the greasy-haired man looks capable of it all. Pai knows his type; they’re driven by delusions of grandeur, desperate to be liked and accepted by the powerful, and armed with a rusty moral compass, if they even have one.

In short, they’re evil and utterly irredeemable.

He glares at the face in front of him again as he takes a photo to send to Phayu. The race is this Friday, and Pai’s not leaving until they’ve dealt with this piece of work, to borrow Plerng’s terminology.

The door to his office swings open, and Pai looks up, his expression still thunderous and unwelcoming, the bitter taste of disgust heavy on his tongue. “I swear to God, P’Tan, " He snaps with all the energy he can muster. It's not much; his interns have eaten into his lunch hour, and his caffeine reserves are at an all-time low. "If that’s another file – I’ll – I’ll eat it and then deny ever having seen it!”

It takes a minute for the pleasant part of his brain to take over, for Pai to make sense of what he’s seeing.

Maybe that migraine’s finally hit and he’s hallucinating, he’s finally lost his mind and is now seeing the one person his thoughts have wandered to any time he’s had a free moment.

“Sky?” He asks, barely daring to believe that this isn’t just a trick of the mind. He’s on his feet, practically jumping across the desk to catch the hallucination before it dissipates into light and dust.

The hallucination stays put, solid, as Pai reaches out to brush its arm. He’s warm, his features set in an unimpressed glare as he gives Pai a once-over.

“I heard you were being a nightmare.” He holds up a takeaway cup. “Drink this and stop being a nightmare.”

Not an illusion then. Pai takes the cup from him, balances it precariously on the half-inch of space on his desk, before he tackles Sky into a hug.

Sky makes a surprised sound as his back hits the wall. “P’Pai!” He deposits his coffee carrier onto the nearest piece of furniture before he gets a grip on the lapels of Pai’s jacket. “Behave. You’re at work.”

“It’s not illegal to hug your boyfriend at work.” Is what Sky thinks Pai says, his words are muffled by the fact that Pai’s face is buried in Sky’s shoulder.

“It should be.” Sky tries in vain to push him away. “Are you having a bad day?”

With a dramatic sigh, Pai tilts his head back so he can look at Sky, a majestic pout on his face. “The worst. You have no idea.”

“I have some idea. Phan and P’Tan filled me in.” Sky suppresses a smirk as his boyfriend looks stricken.

“It wasn’t that bad.” Trust his assistant and his sister to conspire to make him look bad.

“Hmm.” Sky pushes him away and retreats to the other side of the room before Pai can catch him. “Drink your coffee. I think it pairs well with cardboard files.”

Let it never be said that Pai’s disobedient. “You brought me coffee.” He coos as he follows Sky to the sofa at the other end of the room.

“Is this one of mae’s paintings too?” Sky avoids the question, his eyes trained on the frame above the sofa.

“Obviously. She’d sue me if I went with anyone else.” Pai takes a chance and wraps an arm around Sky’s waist as he comes to stand next to him. “You brought me coffee.” He repeats.

Sky sighs, long-suffering, tired, defeated.

“Yeah.” He admits begrudgingly. “I missed you.”

“You did?” Pai blinks at him, disoriented by the sudden candidness. He gets over it quickly, the initial confusion is replaced by a blinding smile as he tucks his chin into the crook of Sky’s neck, groaning in protest when Sky tries to move away. He pulls Sky into him, closing the three inches of space Sky’s tried to carve out between them. “I missed you, too. So, so much. Every minute, every second that I wasn’t calling this client names…”

“P’Pai.” Sky waits for Pai to look at him before he carries on. “Is this what you’re like when you’re angry?”

Pai’s not sure what he’s asking. “Like what?”

Sky turns around to face him. He looks at him appraisingly, like he’s searching for something in his features. “Like this.” Sky repeats finally. “Grumpy and demanding and annoying.”

“I’m not annoying.” Pai mumbles. It’s a weak defence, especially when Sky’s been primed by Phan and Namtan, who’ve no doubt told him how juvenile he’s been all day. “Okay, maybe a little…” He concedes with a sigh. “I try my best not to be. Ask P’Tan, she’ll tell you. Don’t ask Phan, though, she has a vendetta –”

Sky interrupts his tirade by leaning in and planting a surprise kiss on his cheek. Pai’s almost certain he squeaks.

“It’s okay then, as long as you’re just annoying.” Sky strokes a stray hair off of Pai’s face before stepping out of his personal space, successfully this time.

As long as he’s just annoying? Now what is that supposed to mean?

Pai doesn’t give it too much thought; he risks leaning his head on Sky’s shoulder again, but Sky nudges him off. The complaint as to how unfair this is dies on his lips when Sky leans his head on Pai’s shoulder instead.

“Mae really is such a good painter.” Sky remarks as he takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes trained on the mountains in front of him.

“You said you liked beaches.” Pai hums. He still has his notes from that first date somewhere. He needs to update that list.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like mountains.” Sky counters. “Just that I like beaches more.”

“But not more than me.” Pai reminds him.

Sky doesn’t dignify that shameless attempt at praise with an answer.

***

They’re sitting side by side on the sofa when there is a knock at the door.

“Yeah?” Pai calls, careful not to snap like he has all day, certain that Sky will smack him if he does.

P’Tan sticks her head in, her professional face cracking at the sight of her boss clinging to his boyfriend like he’s a soft toy.

“Sorry to interrupt.” She doesn’t look sorry at all, not for Pai anyway. “I need you to come bail out the interns. Your father asked them for some statistics, and I think they’re going to cry.”

Sky tries to get to his feet. “I should go too, lunch is almost over –”

He is pulled down unceremoniously by his pouting boyfriend. “P’Pai!” Sky looks mortified as Pai attempts to hug him in front of his assistant.

“Don’t go,” Pai begs. “You have twenty more minutes until you have to be back.”

“You’ll see me at dinner.” Sky tries to bargain as he tries to push Pai off with his free hand. “You’re going to make me spill my coffee.” He hisses.

Reluctantly, Pai frees him. “Fine, but stay. I’ll be back in five.”

“Three, if he uses his big boy words.” Namtan pipes up, her face is back to its usual composed and statuesque form, but Pai knows, knows her well enough to know she’s gloating.

“I will use my big boy words, P’Tan.” As always, he is unoffended by the jab at this expense. “Three.” He agrees as he pushes himself off the sofa, wincing at the loss of contact. Sky looks up at him, impassive, unimpressed.

“Stay.” He repeats to his boyfriend. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Take your Pa a coffee.” Sky points to the carrier.

“You know what,” Pai swipes up a cup. “That will help. Be back in three – four,” He amends. “Don’t go. Take a tour.” He waves his hand around his office one last time before he follows Namtan out.

Four and a half minutes later, when Pai returns to the office, beaming and in a much better mood, Sky is gone.

***

Chapter Text

It had all gone so perfectly well, the coffee, the smug contentment that had come with watching his boyfriend’s glower turn into an unrestrained grin when he had looked up from his desk and seen Sky. Even in anger — the worst that Phan had ever seen him, allegedly – his boyfriend remained true to himself. There was no rage, no outbursts governed by an uncontrollable monster that took over through no fault of his; Sky had never believed Gun’s excuses, mainly because he’d never encountered his own manifestation of this rage monster, but he had wondered, if perhaps those violent creatures latched themselves on to confidence, and maybe that’s why Sky didn’t have one of his own.

It had taken his confident – overconfident, even – boyfriend nuzzling his neck and trying to crowd him into a corner so he could kiss his nose whilst complaining about how much he hated the day, hated work, hated everything but Sky – for Sky to decide that the idea that anger was only ever a rampaging, animal baying for blood, was bullshit.

It had all gone so well, until Sky had decided to wander around the office in the three minutes that he was separated from Pai.

He hadn't meant to look or pay special attention to the files on the desk, his gaze had simply wandered, and then it had frozen, unable to look away from the face of the man that was staring at him from the mess of files and paperwork that ran riot across the smooth wood surface.

It was a face Sky knew all too well, a version of it still visited his nightmares,

It didn't make any sense.

What was he doing here?

Was this another nightmare that Sky desperately needed to wake up from? His shaking hands begged to differ. It was all too palpable, too painful to be a construct of his fatigued mind.

This was no flashback either.

The scar across the man's eyebrow had not been there ten years ago. No, this was a recent photo, although his eyes still retained that predatory glint that Sky had mistaken for interest, for affection. It was so obvious, now that he knew what affection actually looked like, that Gun had never felt that way about him and that Sky had just been stupid, naive, and maybe a little desperate – God, how could he have been so stupid?

That wasn’t the most important question here. It was by no means the question that had swept the rug from under him and left him and turned the air around him into something noxious that was now clouding his mind and stripping him of his ability to think and process.

Why?

Why did Pai have a photo of Gun on his desk?

The photo had been attached to a sheet of paper and Sky had read the contents before he even realised he was doing it.

Club owner in a seedy side of town.

He owned a club; somehow, he had found success.

Contacts in finance and the shipping industry.

He had connections, support, backers. How? How was it fair?

Reputation for violence, accusations of assault – Sky didn’t need telling.

On and on it had gone, the list of Gun’s indiscretions and by the time Sky had made it to the bottom of the page, his coffee was threatening to make its way back up. The office that Sky had only moments ago admired for being spacious and open now leaned in to swallow him whole, to whisper the unfathomable to him.

P’Pai really doesn’t like his client, but he has no choice but to represent him.

Choice, Gun had a penchant for stripping you of that, and now - unbelievably – he’d gotten to Prapai.

Prapai.

His boyfriend would be back soon, happy and smiling and full of praise for Sky, so exaggerated, so glowing that it could outshine the sun.

He didn’t know.

If he were to walk in now, if he saw the look on Sky’s face at this moment, he would know.

Out, he needed to get out.

***

“Khun Sky?” The stern-faced assistant was on her feet, her brow furrowed with worry as Sky had stumbled out of the office, out of breath like he'd spent the two minutes he'd had to himself sprinting the length of the room.

“I have to go. Class!” He'd managed to croak out what he thought was an appropriate response to the question she had asked.

Out. He just needed fresh air, needed to walk it off, get his thoughts in order before he spiralled and lost what little control he'd managed to hold on to.

Breathe. He chastised himself, fighting against the ticking in his head. A countdown…

To what?

***

“What do you mean he left?” Pai's eyes dart around the room and its corners, like he's expecting Sky to jump out from behind the potted plant.

“I mean he left.” His assistant reiterates, slower, like she knows that Pai needs help processing. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean ‘what did I do?’” Pai turns on her with a frown.

“He said it was a work emergency.” She looks pointedly at him in the way she does when she's trying to call out bullshit. “But…” She hesitates, which is never a good sign when Namtan is involved.

“What?” He asks, an unspoken invitation for her to voice her opinions about her boss’ personal life.

“I’m sure Khun Sky is dedicated to his work, but it looked like it might be more than that. “ Namtan shakes her head. “He looked upset.”

Upset? Impossible. Fed up, maybe. Endearingly annoyed? That was the norm for Sky when Pai was involved. But upset? Pai isn’t sure he’s ever seen Sky upset, not at him, nor because of him – no, Pai’s aim in life is to make sure it never comes to that.

Had he somehow failed?

He tries to think, really think.

He had hugged Sky, had whined at him, had kissed him at work which was usually forbidden, but Sky had kissed him back right before admitting that he had missed him.

What had he done wrong?

Think as he might, the answer evades him.

“Speaking of work emergencies…” Namtan interrupts his contemplations. “Khun Kim wants you to call him before end of day.”

“Khun Kim can go to…” He falls silent under the weight of her glare. “Fine, fine, I'll call him.”

Right after he calls Sky.

***

He throws up, doubled over a toilet in the faculty bathrooms. The bitter taste of fear infused with coffee makes a permanent home on his tongue as the dread finally stops its lazy swirling around his chest and settles, seeping into his bones, tainting his blood.

He can't, that place in his head, he can't go back to it. Not right now, when he has two more classes to teach, fifty more blueprints to assess and critique.

Not now.

With a gasp of pain, whether in response to physical discomfort or the stabbing anxiety that's threatening to leave gashes in his heart, Sky forces himself to a standing position. He pulls taut the final thread of his restraint and wills it to stay put, to hold for just a little longer.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, relentless, demanding to be heard against the overlapping murmuring in his head.

P’Pai.

P’Pai.

P’Pai.

Over and over the screen screams the other man’s name. It too is drowned out by the noise inside Sky’s head.

Not now. Sky admonishes them all. Not now, not yet.

He has two more classes to teach, both important modules for the final year students. He can’t let them suffer on account of his own failures.

Two more classes, and then, then he can lose it.

***

“Idiot. Donkey. Bloody condescending fool.”

Pai stretches and flexes his arms with every insult. What his client actually is, is a fucking human dumpster, but a certain four-year-old has made it so that Pai can never use those words again. Well, Khun Kim can drown in a puddle of biohazardous waste for all Pai cares. He's told his father as much, in those exact words and they're in agreement.

The green file on his desk calls for his attention again and Pai reaches for it. This guy– Gun whatever, makes Radioactive Puddle Kim look like an angel.

He pulls out his phone to check for messages from Phayu.

Never seen him around.

His best friend is in the same boat as him.

Looks like he wormed his way in through another backer. I'll ask Saifah. See you tomorrow night?

Pai types back a quick confirmation before switching to the text thread he actually wants to look at. He hasn’t been able to get in touch with Sky that afternoon. That hadn’t been surprising, given that Sky’s afternoons were usually taken up by seminars and tutorials, but now that the sun had escaped to the other side of the world – that’s a nice turn of phrase, stolen from one of Ben’s picture books – Sky should have called him back, hell, after what Namtan’s told him, Pai would be content with just a stray question mark, the flimsiest proof that it really was just a work emergency.

The universe must understand his predicament, because his phone buzzes with a message from Sky as soon as Pai begins to type his opening greeting.

Sky

Can’t do dinner. Have a headache, going to bed.

Pai texts back immediately, offering to come by with soup, but Sky turns him down.

Don't.

Good night.

There is a finality to that last text that bothers Pai but he convinces himself that Sky's just tired and grumpy and aching to be left alone, and against his better judgment, Pai does just that.

***

The dread seeps away to make space for anger. At himself, at Gun, at the whole mess that he doesn't know how to address.

He has to say something.

He has to.

Right?

He buries his face in the ever-welcoming green jacket, not caring if he leaves it tear-stained and snotty; the jacket's had enough of a break, tucked away inside Sky's cupboard because Sky hasn't needed the comfort, the reminder that he made it for months, not since he allowed himself to like the ridiculous man with the big eyes and the even bigger heart.

The jacket is beginning to lose its magic; it can't make him feel protected and at peace in the way it used to, not now that Sky knows what it's like to be engulfed in warm bone- melting embraces, to be held so close that he can feel every skipped heartbeat, every hitched breath, see every thought that sparkles into existence in those kind, reverent eyes that crinkle and twinkle and leave nothing to the imagination. Sky’s never had to wonder what Pai was thinking, he’s never had to doubt the true nature of his emotions because Pai’s eyes give him away, every time.

An anguished scream threatens to escape from his lips, which Sky smothers with the jacket that can't give him what he wants.

He wants his boyfriend.

The one he really, really likes, the one he might even…

He has to tell him.

And that's what enrages him, the fact that even now, with ten years between him and the darkest period of his life, that nefarious shadow still follows him, still does this to him – leaves him trembling and afraid of the dark and desperate to hide from it all, to isolate when what he needs, really needs, is reassurance and for someone to be there.

He's dealing with a client he hates.

At least Sky knows they're not friends. He should be relieved but he isn't.

I’ve told him to hand him over to me, but you know what he’s like – noble.

Pai is noble, and smarter than Sky gives him credit for, he'll see Sky's side of things.

It'll be okay.

It has to be okay.

He hugs the jacket tighter, tries in vain to feel the comfort it once so easily lent him. He fishes around in the inside pocket and pulls out the fragile, yellowing note that disintegrates a little every time he touches it.

Sorry I had to leave. In case you don’t remember, I made you a hot drink and disinfected your cuts. Your phone is on the charger by the potted plant. There’s money in the other pocket…

The words are faded in place, smudged here and there by tears and rendered indecipherable, but it doesn't matter, Sky knows them by heart, just like he knows that the money is still in the other pocket, unspent because a part of Sky's always yearned to return it, to let the stranger know he never needed it because he clawed his way out of that circle of hell, all by himself.

Now he’s not too sure if he won at all, if one accidental glance at a photograph has him curled up on his bedroom floor and feeling like he's at the brink of his sanity.

The weathered note in the pocket helps, but it can't reassure him in the way only Pai's words can.

I won't represent Gun.

I won't help the monster –

He's not a monster. That's a coward's way out. No, Sky bears as much responsibility as Gun in what happened to him. He allowed it to happen to him. Even enjoyed it, in the beginning, before the beatings and the choking and the burning.

But if Gun's not a monster, if he's just a reprehensible human being…

…A club owner. With investors, with contacts.

Sky knows the kind of people Gun gravitates towards, the things his investors are capable of.

There will be consequences, retribution if Pai takes action, if he believes Sky and steps away from Gun. Sky had to scratch and bite and fight and run to get away from Gun and his investors.

He can't let the same fate befall Pai.

If he believes him

If he understands

If he picks him

If. If. If.

Sky's furious. At his spiralling, fractured mind that's spinning fresh nightmares to sever Sky's ties to rationality. At his heart that hammers painfully in his chest as it volleys question after question at Sky -

Why are we confined to the dark?

Why can't we just go to him now?

Why are you prolonging your own suffering?

All rhetorical questions because his heart knows the answers; it sees what Pai hasn't yet.

That beneath it all, buried under all the good, all the redeeming qualities that only Pai has ever seen in him, is a desperate, broken person, a selfish coward that refuses to do the right thing because he doesn’t want to be alone again.

***

Chapter Text

“Pai!”

His father waves for his attention from his perch on the wrought-iron swing in their garden, where he sits next to Plerng, the both of them drinking something indeterminate but cold.

“Since when do you drink…gin?” Pai eyes the clear liquid in his father’s glass as he gets closer, his suit jacket slung carelessly over his shoulder.

“It’s been a long day.” His father tells him, the ‘but you already know that’ is obvious in his eyes. Their ordeal with Khun Kim has taken a toll on everyone at the office.

“Right. It’s just work stress. Want one?” Plerng offers him a glass, he’s almost polite. Apologetic, some might even say.

Plerng is never apologetic, not unless he’s done something truly reprehensible.

Pai looks from his brother, to the glass, to his father.

“You told him.” He shoots an accusatory glare at his younger brother. “You ratted me out.”

Plerng shrugs, not one to be cowed into being ashamed. “We promised we wouldn’t keep the big things from each other after last time — well, you promised and ruined it for all of us,” he shrugs again as Pai scoffs. “Do you want a drink or not?”

“I’ll make my own.” Pai swipes the proffered glass out of his brother’s hands. “I don’t trust you not to poison it.”

“See?” Plerng turns to their father. “No one believes me when I say he’s the biggest drama queen in this family. He’s worse than Uncle Frost.”

Their father makes a contemplative noise that oscillates conveniently between agreement and disagreement.

“Plerng didn’t need to tell me.” Their father speaks once Pai’s made himself comfortable on one of the garden chairs. He reaches in the inside pocket of his jacket to retrieve his phone.

“I had a very interesting talk today, with an old contact at Siam News. He had an email, twenty, actually…”

He passes his phone over to Pai who accepts it with a weary sigh, already anticipating the worst.

I have an exclusive scoop about Prapai Patheera the Wife Killer Lawyer who is the nephew of superstar Frost Patheera he has spent the last four years escaping consequences because of who his family is. I have evidence to show that he has links to the underworld he has defended known criminals but that is not the scoop of the century there is a darker secret that Khun Patheera has been hiding that exposes his true face and I am willing to share it with you in exchange for a million baht…

“Obviously, they dismissed it as unsubstantiated information. No one wants to get thrown to criminal court for defamation, well, almost no one – and definitely not on the wings of six faceless accounts and an e-mail without a single punctuation mark. You have to give it to them.” He smirks humourlessly. “‘The Wife Killer Lawyer’ has a nice ring to it.”

“My favourite part is where he asks for a million baht in exchange for…what was it?” Plerng trails off.

“The scoop of the century.” Pai finishes for him as he scrolls to the end of the e-mail.

“Right, well, he thinks too highly of you.” Plerng wrinkles his nose. “‘Scoop of the century’ – he does know there’s actual wars happening, right?”

“Knowing him? No.” Pai returns the phone to his father. “Obviously.” He looks up at his father, rubbing his temples as he feels the headache from earlier clawing its way back to the surface. “I’m not a wife killer.”

“Obviously.” Plerng rolls his eyes like it’s offensive that Pai even thinks he needs to clarify.

“The real question is,” His father puts down his glass, drained now of its contents. “Why would he use those words?”

"Your 'dark secret' , if you will." Plerng brackets the phrase in air quotes as he rolls his eyes in a manner that Sky would be impressed by.

Pai chooses his words very carefully, knowing that he’s close to breaking the promise that he made four years ago.

“It’s nothing.” He shrugs, trying his best to look dismissive, unconcerned. “It’s just – when Natsu – when we found out that Natsu was sick, some people thought it was me – that I pressured her to keep the pregnancy because the family wanted an heir. It was a rumour, floated by someone with too much time on their hands.” He hates how the memory of those huddled figures, whispering about him between races still makes his blood boil, not for himself, but for the disservice that narrative has done to one of the most strong-willed people he's had the privilege of knowing. As if Natsu would ever marry into a family like that, as if his family would ever stoop so low.

The facts had mattered very little to the people who had spun that particular rumour out of thin air and a single fight that he’d had with his best friend.

He had gone from being the Girlfriend Stealer to the Wife Killer, to whatever other flavour of villain the conspiracy theorists around the track had needed him to be on a slow evening, anything to help them feel like they were somehow superior to the star biker that left them in the dust on the track every time.

“Assholes.” His brother spits out, Pai could almost hug him.

His father doesn’t say anything, but Pai doesn’t need him to; years of working with him have made him aware of every microexpression, accurately assess the weight of every moment of silence.

His father doesn’t call them assholes – he doesn’t need to.

“Assholes.” Pai says instead as he turns to Plerng. “Speaking of, do you want to tell me about this Gun character?”

“Really?” His brother casts a wary look to his right. “You want me to talk about him right now?”

“No secrets.” Pai tries to mean it as he shoves his own away into the darkest corners of his mind.

“Well, okay. Pa, you might need another drink.”

Pai tops up his father, then himself.

“Like I said.” Plerng begins once they’re ready. “It looks like Stop’s new backer is a piece of work. He thinks he’s an entrepreneur, a king in the nightlife industry, most of the actual kings will tell you he’s more like the —” He frowns as he struggles to find the right words “ – custodian of the sewers.” He decides. “He’s got a seedy place near the factories, you know, lots of red pleather and cheap velvet and neon arrows, I wish the arrows were the worst things about it, God, I need a smoke.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.” Their father murmurs, setting Plerng back on track.

“They say he started ten years ago, trying to suck up to anyone that would loan him the money. As you can probably guess, no one with half a brain wanted anything to do with him.”

“Which left those with less than half a brain.” Pai surmises. Plerng nods.

“And those dimwits wanted more than just equity.” Their father’s hand on Plerng’s shoulder steadies him, eases the tremor in his voice so he can go on. “The rumour is that he got into trafficking. Picked up the most desperate people from the job line outside the factory, dolled them up and paraded them around, and then someone – we don’t know who – decided they’d like to exploit some teenagers…”

Plerng breaks off with a shaky breath, fighting his disgust as he finds the strength to go on. He doesn’t have to go on, Pai gets the picture.

“Kids. He started trafficking kids, allegedly. For a while there was a rumour that he was dating one and passing him around –” Plerng winces at the thought. “ — until the kid punched him in the face and fled. Gave him a beautiful black eye, apparently, I think he deserved so much more.”

Pai would have liked to see that, he’s sure they all would have.

“How did this guy never meet the police?” Their father asks. Plerng shrugs in response.

“Factory district, cheap booze,a clientele of underage drinkers, small-time mob bosses for investors, I guess no one reported him. He’s been careful not to fuck over – sorry, Pa – anyone important. He knows how to play his cards right, unfortunately, he’s not as stupid as Stop.”

Pai will remember that.

“I still don’t understand why he’d help Stop.” Plerng interrupts his thoughts.

Another excellent question, Pai will remember to ask him.

"What do we want to do about it?" Their father is looking at him now, waiting for him to take the lead.

Pai has a list of things he'd like to do, ranging from reasonable to downright inadvisable and dangerous -- for Gun and Stop, anyway.

"I'm suing him for defamation." He makes up his mind. "For starters. And tomorrow -" No more lies, no more than what he's already told by omission that evening. " - Phayu and I are going to go to the track and cut off his funding." He doesn't bother with the details. His family are already apprehensive about his connections to the race track, which on the best of days hangs onto legality only by the tenterhooks of a cleverly-worded permit.

"Don't make a deal with Gun."

Plerng cautions him. "I'll forgive murder, but I won't forgive you throwing money at him."

"Don't tell your mother." Is all their father says, and his two sons look at him, surprised by his uncharacteristic willingness to keep things from their mother. Their father sighs.

"Stop looking at me like that. I'll tell her once this is settled."

"Fine." Plerng shrugs at the words. "But if she finds out, I'm telling her it was all your idea, Pa."

"Me too.

Pai seconds, though he sees the soundness of Pai's logic.

The main gate slides open and the headlights of the SUV mercilessly blind all three men as the car rolls to a stop midway up the drive.

“What are the three of you doing out there?” Their mother calls from the driver’s seat. “If you’re drinking up my elderflower gin, I want a glass!”

“Me too! We’re sending in our forces to protect our share!” Phan yells from the backseat. Moments later, the door flies open and their most formidable soldier frees himself of the car seat and sprints towards them. The men stash their glasses away and out of reach just as Ben headbutts Pai in the chest.

“Pa! We went and saw the duckies in the park! Duckies are my favourite.”

“I thought I was your favourite.” Pai combs his fingers through his son’s hair, always unruly, a haywire curl for every thought that he has.

Ben considers this. “Okay.” He nods his head solemnly. “Pa’s my favourite.”

“Really?” The devious smirk is back on Plerng’s face. “I thought Aa Sky was your favourite. That’s what you told me at breakfast yesterday.”

“Aa Sky is my favourite.” Ben nods without hesitation as he plays with the strap of Pai’s watch. “Can I play blocks with Aa Sky today? Please?”

“Not today, baby.” Pai shakes his head, his heart swelling and contracting in equal measure as he processes just how attached his son has gotten to Sky. “Aa Sky said good night because he feels off-off.” He uses Ben’s preferred word for illness.

“Sick?” His father asks from the swing. “Is he okay?”

“Just a headache.” The words feel hollow even as Pai says them.

His mother and sister join them for a picnic dinner under the stars.

The hollow void in his heart continues to grow.

***

The anger he smothered during dinner returns as soon as he returns to the lonely privacy of his room. He casts a forlorn look at the phone, still no response from Sky about how he’s feeling, it’s to be expected, if his boyfriend’s asleep.

Angry. He’s been so angry all day, and yet the frustration from the morning feels like nothing more than mild inconvenience when compared to this, this, gnawing fury that has no beginning and no end.

That Stop would go to someone like Gun.

That there are people who would fall to such depraved depths – it shouldn’t be a surprise, the legal net is full of them, but just because it’s unsurprising doesn’t mean it’s not nauseating.

How could someone be so depraved?

Pai’s mind wanders to the kid from all those years ago, the teenager who’d shown up at their old office – not too far from the factory district — shivering and bleeding and refusing to go to the hospital and ready, so ready to fight him despite the fact that he could barely support his own weight. Pai had wondered back then, what this kid could have been running from. He’d even thought of his own siblings, comfortable at home, fearless, sheltered from whatever had plagued that faceless boy. He wouldn’t even be able to pick him out of a crowd now, if he still existed, if Gun’s evil hadn’t somehow swallowed him up.

He sees him now, in his mind’s eye, in his bloodstained shirt and worn out sneakers, his features obscured by the effects of a flawed memory. The kid had fought, whatever he was escaping from, he had gotten away. Pai was sure of it.

“Pai? Hello?”

He hasn’t realised he’s called Phayu, until he hears his friend’s voice through the phone.

“Tell me to stay away from Stop.” He’s begging, and he doesn’t care. “Tell me it’s not worth it to end up in jail because of him.”

“It’s not worth it to end up in jail because of him.” Phayu recites obediently. “We won’t end up in jail if we just run him over at the race track and bury him under the mechanic’s tent.”

That makes Pai laugh, loosens the knot in his stomach.

“You want to talk about it?”

Pai realises that he does, very much, even if he doesn’t know where to start.

He starts with the thought that weighs heaviest on his mind.

“I want him gone, I don’t want him anywhere near my kid.”

***

Running.

Why is he always running?

Just once in his bloody nightmare he’d like to just be…

Sipping coffee and napping in the sun or kissing P’Pai…

But then it wouldn’t be a nightmare.

Sky is out of breath as he turns a corner and the evening turns to night and he’s back again, in front of that tall office building that no longer exists, he knows because he walked past it once three years ago and only saw scaffolding and cranes.

The building’s gone again.

No wall, no security guard, no green jacket telling him it’s okay.

It’s just … blank.

Empty.

Exposed.

He hears a hiss from the shadows.

‘I told you not to run.’

He can’t remember the face of the man who saved him, but Gun’s voice, his slimy, sticky, polluting voice clings to him still.

Will probably cling to him forever.

‘Waste of time.’ Dream Gun chants his usual chant. ‘Did you think you could ever leave me behind?’

Long fingers, no, claws, swipe at him suddenly and this time Sky can’t shake them off. He feels the weight on his arm, feels the cuts as long nails drag him back into the shadows…

… Now they’re in a club. Sky hates clubs, hates the dark, hates the wandering hands, so much.

‘Let me go!’ His own voice is not his own. ‘Leave me alone!’

And then he is.

Alone. Cut-off from it all. Afraid.

Because the loneliness can’t keep him safe anymore, the isolation only makes him more afraid.

The nightmare switches track. Now it’s a memory.

Gun, on top of him, inside him, slapping him. The glow of cigarettes, cigarettes on his skin, until his clients started complaining that it marred Sky’s beauty. And so Gun had stopped, because it was bad for investment. Not because he cared about Sky.

Sky wonders now if he would have taken the burns over the strange hands caressing, touching, fondling him, trespassing over him.

Now he’s choking on something unpleasant…

Wait – hang on, this isn’t a memory he remembers.

Petch. Spiked drinks.

What did they do to him?

He jolts awake, trying desperately to focus on the lazy rotations of the ceiling fan to get back his breath.

What did they do? What did they do?

What does he do?

***

Chapter Text

“Is that –”

“Can’t be, no way.”

“It is. Hey, hey, isn’t that P’Pai, next to Phayu?”

The speculations hang in the atmosphere around them as Phayu and Prapai cut through the race track crowd, sidestepping groupies and new racers who are trying their best to slink closer to get a better look at Pakin’s legendary racer who up and disappeared one day four years ago.

“It is him!”

“He’s wearing a racing jacket, do you think he might race today? Should we look at the bets?”

“I really thought he was dead.”

“Dead? No, he had a kid.”

“Same thing.”

“Conversation’s as charming as ever.” Pai murmurs as he follows Phayu past the mechanic’s tent where Saifah met them earlier in the evening to bring them up to speed with the backer behind their mystery backer, the backer’s backer, if you will. The bottom line is, things are on their side, this should be a short conversation, easy, quick enough for Pai to make it back home before anyone notices he’s been missing for too long.

“Stop’s not here tonight.” Phayu repeats the information they’d found out earlier in the evening. A shame, really, because running into Stop would have sorted several things out. Probably gotten him into trouble with P’Pakin, probably would have gotten Phayu fired from the track for inciting violence, but it would have solved plenty of other things.

“There.” Pai looks in the direction of Phayu’s pointed finger.

The photograph in the green file has done him no justice. Gun is flashier in person, more boisterous, surrounded by his group of cackling smokers. He takes a drag of his own cigarette as he says something that makes his dirtbag friends laugh. Pai’s not surprised, they seem like the kind that would laugh at rotting compost as long as someone was standing next to it, tossing coins at them.

Then Gun looks their way, raises a hand in greeting at Phayu.

“Asshole.” Phayu growls. “Pretending like he knows me.”

Pai understands what his brother meant. Gun’s a piece of work, a social climber, a wannabe kingpin who reeks as much of desperation as he does of cigarette smoke. Gun wants approval, wants to be known, and in instances when he can’t achieve that, he’s content with the illusion of it all.

If he can't get Phayu’s attention; he’ll make do with the perception that he has his attention.

“Gun.” Phayu breaches his circle, sending some of the smoker-stragglers scattering. They’re the smart ones, for retreating in the face of a storm. “A word.”

“Of course, Pha –” His best friend’s glare has Gun amending his words. “ — P’Phayu.”

They can’t be more than a year apart in age, and yet, Gun’s playing into the honorifics. It could be courtesy, or it could be an attempt to find stronger footing here on the track. Pai is inclined to believe it’s the latter. Gun’s looking to forge new alliances, and Pai doesn’t blame him for trying to find that with Phayu.

“One of your guys.” Pai steps closer to the men as he speaks, turning a few more heads as some of the older attendees recognise him. Perhaps it’s because of what happened the last time Phayu and Pai stood next to each other like this, but Pai sees them shift closer, alert, prepared. He ignores them.

“He’s being a problem, which means you’re being a problem.”

“Oh?” Gun scuffs out the cigarette under a heavy biker boot even though they all know he’s never been on a bike. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“No.” Pai agrees. “We can’t.”

“You have a name for me? Was it N’Mat here –” He digs his nails into the man closest to him who stares wide-eyed at Pai. There’s something familiar in that stare, in that hunched over posture that makes Pai’s blood boil. He fights to keep his expression stony, unfazed.

“Your newest bootlicker, Stop.”

A twisted look obscures the other man’s carefully arranged face as he reacts to the harshness in Pai’s tone. Then it lifts and Gun is back to being his slimy falsely-amicable self.

“Stop’s hardly one of my men, we only consult on, uh, business, uh –” He pauses, hopeful for a name.

“Prapai.” Pai doesn’t bother extending his hand.

And there it is — the way the man’s mouth drops open before he schools it back into a confused downward tilt, a surefire sign that Gun knows exactly who he is, that he’s been listening in on the interrogations, probably making notes of his own. Just business – Pai can guess as to what that entails.

Extortion. Blackmail. Plerng’s voice echoes in his head again. Why would someone as superlatively selfish and power-hungry as Gun choose to stay out of this?

“I’m not sure I can help you,” The nauseating grin is back on his face. It’s slick, slicker than the motor oil that keeps the bikes around them going. “Besides, even if he was one of my men, I don’t interfere in family matters.”

“We’re not family.” Pai spits out, eager to dispel that misconception as quickly as possible. “So interfere. Back off. Tell your business partner or whatever he is that all bets are off.”

“That’s not what I heard.” Oh, this man is as stupid as he is opportunistic. Gun shifts as he gets to his feet and draws himself up to his full height. The posturing has the opposite effect; he’s a caricature now, a mole trying to pass itself off as an apex predator.

“I heard you were giving him trouble.” Gun smiles at him, exposing nicotine-stained teeth.

“Something about owing him money. Something about Phuket.”

He whispers that last word like it’s an incriminating piece of evidence, like Pai’s supposed to know what it means. “And now Ai Stop owes me money, so unless you’re willing to help me solve my problem – with interest – I don’t see how I can help you.”

They’d talked about it before they got here, the possibility of needing to buy Gun’s cooperation.

“It’s not ideal, but it might be the easiest way to get rid of him," had been Phayu’s advice, and Pai had been inclined to take it.

Not anymore. He’d rather fight Gun tooth and nail than let him walk away in peace and with his hard earned money.

But he’s not looking to be banned off of Pakin’s track. Not today.

The problem with Gun is, he likes to push his luck, but he doesn’t know when to stop.

Pai takes a step forward, closing in on Gun’s personal space until the man is compelled to take a step back, forced to readjust his hold on the young boy he’s sunk his talons into.

“How about I pay you back in a different way?” Pai smiles condescendingly at the other man, deciding that it’s important that Gun knows that two can play that game. God, was he this creepy when he puffed his chest out and strutted around the track looking for his next hook up? Was he as bad as Gun? He’ll have to remember to ask.

“Here’s some advice. If you want to be someone at the track, learn the rules.” They already know that Gun’s only made it here on the word of another small-time player. That, coupled with the fact that he’s been sucking up to Phayu, that even now his eyes flit expectantly across the small crowd gathered around him, like he’s hoping for cheers, tells him all he needs to know about what makes Gun tick.

If Pai can’t get him to back off on the grounds of morality, he’s going to try something that works. Gun wants to climb up the ladder? Pai would like to see how he manages it when Pai hacks off some of the rungs.

“One, we don’t sabotage each other. The only rivalries allowed are the ones on the track.” He feels Phayu’s hand on his shoulder, a silent warning to remember where they are; no doubt his friend is also fighting the urge to throw fists. “That’s a matter of honour, which I’m not sure you have, so I won’t press the matter.

“Two.” He grips Gun’s arm and pushes it off the boy’s shoulder, where it’s been resting this whole time, cutting gashes into the soft skin. “We don’t bring minors to the track. Save it.” He interrupts before Gun can try and lie to him. It’s obvious, Pai doesn’t care how good of an actor the man is, it’s obvious that the boy on his arm — the one trying his best to hide the tremble and terror that sticks to him like fumes – is just a kid. “That one’s bad – it’ll get you blacklisted, hell, it’ll even get Ai Jon blacklisted since he’s the one who vouched for you to be here. I’m not sure he’ll be too thrilled about the mistakes you’re attaching to his name, after he worked so hard to get in.

“And three.” Their conversation’s attracting more attention now that the races are on a break. “This one is more of a general rule, but you don’t pick a fight with a lawyer. The next time you see Stop, tell him this – those cute e-mails he’s been sending news channels? They’ll land him, and anyone else that was in on it with him, in jail. It may be the only home he’s known, but you –” Pai allows himself a smirk, a genuine one in response to the disbelief in Gun’s eyes that tells him that he didn’t know about this part. “ – you have a successful nightclub to run. Don’t you?”

The fact that this is an opportunity to make amends and reassurances is lost on Gun. The man doesn’t know how to admit defeat, that’s probably why he gets along so well with Stop. Something mean and vapid sparks in Gun’s eyes, whether it is fear or a final attempt to fight, born out of humiliation, Pai doesn’t care. The shorter man draws himself up to his full height. “Defamation’s not as bad as murder.” He rasps.

Phayu’s grip is an anchor now, a conscious reminder of what he’s here for: to get across a message, not start fights. It doesn’t matter that he’s been off the track for years, Pakin would roast him on a spit if he discovered that Pai marked his reappearance with a fistfight. Again.

“It’s not.” Pai agrees in a whisper so only the three of them can hear. “But you see, I can prove defamation.” He smiles, a cocky, supercilious smirk that he mastered on this track. “I have a team of people who will happily dig until there’s even more for us to prove. Don’t make me dig into you, Ai Gun.” He makes a point to cast a look at the boy in their midst.

He’ll let it go this time, because there’s always a next time with people like Gun.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Gun nods. “I’ll have a word with him, but in the meantime, Khun Prapai, since you’re so smart, did you know? That she died for nothing?”

“We’re done here.” Phayu’s voice cuts through the buzzing in Pai’s head.

***

“Fucking, fuck, fuck!” Pai waits until they’re in the safety of Phayu’s car to have the breakdown that he’s so far suppressed.

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.” Phayu remarks dryly next to him. “We can’t touch him right now.”

“We could tell Pakin about the boy. That’s an immediate expulsion.” Phayu doesn’t sound convinced of his own idea, because they both know that the only way to get Gun to cooperate is to keep him on his toes, to dangle the threat of destruction in his face.

“Not yet.” Pai reins him in, grudgingly. “ Stop first.”

“Okay. What’s the plan?” Phayu drums absently on the steering wheel.

“We wait for Gun to cut him off, then hit him with a lawsuit or two, scare him enough until he signs an agreement to fuck off from Bangkok for good.”

“But –” Phayu senses the hesitation in Pai’s voice.

“If it ever comes to it, if it ever becomes a defamation case, it’ll be on public record and…”

“...Ben might read it one day.” Phayu finishes for him. Pai nods with an exasperated sigh.

“Phuket.” Phayu picks at another thread. “What do you think he meant about Phuket?”

“What do you think he meant?” Pai counters.

It’s a rhetorical question. There is no deep metaphor hidden in that statement, Gun’s message was crystal clear.

“It doesn’t matter. Not yet.” Pai’s mind wanders to something else Gun had whispered to him, something equally meaningless. “He sounded like he was trying to grasp at straws in the dark.”

“He’s a blackmailer alright.” Phayu agrees. “Five hundred baht says he’s going to try that on someone at the track and get his life ruined for it.”

“Didn’t take you for a gambler.” Pai smiles in spite of himself.

“Yeah, well, Natsu always made us try new things.” Phayu slumps over the steering wheel with an exhausted groan.

“You want to go get a drink?” Pai prods his best friend in the ribs. Phayu hisses and swats him away.

“I’m going home to Rain, he should be back after dinner with Sky.”

“They hung out today?” This is news to Pai, his messages to Sky had gone unanswered all day, outside of the standard ‘I’m busy’. Sky had told him he was tired when Pai had tried to ask if he could drop in to help with anything.

“They went out to a movie and dinner.” Phayu’s giving him a weird look now. “What? He didn’t tell you?”

Pai shakes his head. “We’ve been busy, I haven’t spoken to him all day.”

“Well, you’d better go and make it up to him then.” Phayu glares at him. “You know I’ll kill you, right? If you mistreat the brightest architect I’ve ever known?”

“Rain’s an architect,too.”

“And he agrees.” Phayu reaches across to push open the passenger side door. “Go on, get out.” And Pai is shoved unceremoniously out into the humid evening air.

“Phayu –” Pai finds it in himself to address the final thought that’s weighing on his mind. “About that kid –”

“I’ve already texted Saifah and told him to smuggle him out and take him for a burger.”

“I could kiss you right now.”

Phayu snorts at the words that tumble out of Pai’s mouth. “ Save it for Sky.”

***

Chapter Text

Pai makes it past the darkness of the front door, careful to slip off his boots and return them to the shoe cupboard by the door, top shelf, wedged into the back to dispel any notion of him having worn them at all. His parents are out of town for a business trip to one of the clients they still tackle jointly and he knows Plerng is away on a site visit to… Singapore or Macau, he can’t remember, which leaves only Phan, the most observant of the lot. She’d only need to see him now, sneaking in in his racer jacket and slacks, his features still holding onto the scowl he’s tried to keep off his face, and she’d know that this wasn’t just a trip to hang out with Phayu, and then he’d have to tell her everything, and then they’d be up all night, planning, laying down landmines and digging war trenches, and Pai doesn’t have the energy for that right now: his mind is unreliably muddled, a cesspool littered with bitterness, anger, disgust – for Gun, for the vile company his brother-in-law’s been keeping, as if that’s surprising.

The factory district, he should do something about that. Eventually, once this is put to rest, once he can no longer feel Stop’s shadow pervading the safety of this privileged, protected bubble he’s – they’ve, all of them — tried to build around his son. Ben is everything, even now, in the dead of night, Pai can’t help but tiptoe to his room and peek in, to make sure he’s still there, still sound asleep and lost only in the best dreams. He steals into the room and settles on the foot of his son’s bed, the bed he shares with Sharkie and Banana Bear– the yellow teddy bear that has been passed down from Pai to Plerng to Phan, to Ben. Ben’s feet graze against Pai’s thighs as he stretches in his sleep. His boy’s growing fast, in another year, maybe less, they might have to replace this bed.

It still bothers him, the why of it. Not why he would do something like this, Pai is well-acquainted with that aspect of Stop’s personality; he knows exactly why he’d do that . It’s the other why, the one he can’t articulate enough to share, even with Phayu.

Why show up at his son’s preschool?

Stop’s never cared for family, so Pai can be forgiven for refusing to believe that it had anything to do with a desire to bond with his nephew, the child of the sister whom he only every sabotaged and tormented and took from, no, Stop had not tried to meet Ben out of a sense of any familial responsibility, out of love. It had to have been something else.

Which brings them back to the why they know, the reason that’s got him sending spiteful messages and e-mails.

Blackmail. For money, because even Stop knows that Pai’s not going to pay him out of the goodness of his heart. He wants money. He needs money, he’s even borrowed from Gun with the promise that he’ll pay him back.

With what money?

With Pai’s money, which he will never voluntarily get, and so he’s been trying to bully it out of Pai, with his insinuations, his allusions to a downfall, with his too-casual mentions of Phuket to anyone that will listen.

Why show up at Ben’s preschool?

The question does a few more rounds in his head as Pai tries to slot it into someplace where it’ll fit.

He did it first. Before the track, before he allegedly skipped town, before Gun. Plan A.

Which would make this mess of messages and e-mails Plan B.

Unconnected? A flip from playing the uncle desperate for amends and a reunion, to the power-hungry uncle desperate for money?

Or…

Does Stop really have it in him to play a long-game? To connect the pieces?

Pai recalls the grainy CCTV footage they’d glared at in Phayu’s garage months ago. The low price on the car, the missing shoe. Those were not the actions of a man who was biding his time.

No, Stop had just been grasping at straws, and he likely would again, after the shock and indignation at being cut off by his newest benefactor wore off.

Tomorrow, he will pursue those defamation charges, and use the evidence to build another wall around Ben.

Mind made up, Pai tiptoes away from Ben’s room and retreats to his own with a weary sigh, one that weighs just as much as the world.

***

“Shit!” Pai’s certain he jumps several feet as his eyes adjust to the dim lighting and confirm that he’s not imagining things, as the body curled up on the rocking chair by the window twists around to look at him.

He’s on edge, not thinking right, but he’s certain that he’s not seeing things, that this person in his room, the one he’s been dying to see all day, isn’t a figment of his imagination. He could never imagine him like this, in this state.

“Sky?” Pai stares at the tousled hair and the bloodshot eyes of his boyfriend as he adjusts the duvet he’s pulled from the bed across his shoulders, leaving only his face exposed. “What – are you okay?”

It’s a rhetorical question; Sky looks as far away from okay as he’s seen in a while. He looks tired and drawn. His skin is pale,drained of the pink that usually hides in his cheeks, his warm eyes, usually so breathtakingly bright, are obscured by shadows that hang like cobwebs, belying the fact that he probably hasn’t slept all night. They’re red-rimmed and Pai wonders for one unbelievable moment whether he’s been crying.

Opposite him, a semblance of a flame sparks in Sky’s eyes.

Slowly, he shakes his head.

***

He was okay. Really, he was.

Okay. More okay than he’d ever been. The okayest version of okay.

Sky had glared at the blinding morning sunshine that had threatened to sear his sleep-starved eyes and decided that he was going to be okay. He was going to be okay when he got onto the bus and rode the five stops to the faculty, he was going to be okay when he lectured his students on the tenets of brutalism, and he was going to be extra okay throughout the mid-week faculty meeting where his colleague Sig would most certainly try and pick a fight with one of the older, stuffier professors about something irrelevant. And then, later, at lunch, he would be beyond okay eating by himself in the staff room, he would send Pai a message and tell him he was busy, that he wouldn’t make it to the cafe.

He’d done it. Pai’s own message had flitted in not seconds later.

Same. 🙁😢 I’ll call you after work?

To nobody’s surprise, Sky had not been able to find it in himself to eat lunch, but that was okay.

After work, Sky had decided that he would continue to be okay. He’d allowed Rain to pick him up at the faculty. They’d ended up in a surprisingly packed theatre, watching Frost Patheera play a lawyer in his newest action film. This time, Sky had noticed when his favourite actor’s character had started dating the woman he was defending on charges of murder, no less.

His father had been right. These films were a farce.

“That was fun!” Rain had said from next to him once the credits had rolled in, after the cutscene where Frost Patheera’s character had turned the tables on his new wife and poisoned her tea. “What a twist, about him killing his client because he knew the judge would find her not guilty even though she was.”

‘Fun’ was not the word Sky would have chosen to describe the emotion that had pumped through his veins during the reveal.

“What do you think?” Sky had pulled it together long enough to decode that Rain was asking about dinner, that he wanted to try that new sushi place. “That okay?”

“Sure.” Sky had smiled. “That sounds more than okay.” Just like Sky, who was absolutely more than okay. He was so okay, in fact, that he hadn’t even touched the food that they’d ordered. Luckily, Rain had been too distracted to notice.

Okay, okay, okay.

He’s chanted it like a mantra all day long, so by the time he makes it back to the darkness of his flat, he finds that it’s lost its sheen, the words taste like musty cardboard on his tongue: stale, unpalatable.

He’s okay.

They taste like a lie.

Sky stares at his gaunt face under the harsh lighting of his bathroom mirror. Well, at least he looks as horrible as he feels, as far away from okay as he can possibly be. He’s surprised his reflection doesn’t show where he’s fraying at the edges. An unexpected bolt of anger shoots through him, jerking him upright, reorganising his face into a scowl.

He hates this, hates that he’s doing this to himself. His father’s words echo in his mind.

You look like you’re sleeping at night.

He wants to go back to that, wants the nightmares gone, needs them gone, and there’s only one way to make that happen.

He needs Gun out of his life.

His reflection stares back at him, that obstinate-stony look in his eyes has been replaced by a different one.

Sadness?

No, desperation. Sky thinks. He’s not sad about Gun, he’s desperate to scrub his hands, his mind off this all-pervasive phantom from his past. He can’t allow it to be like last time, have Gun ruin everything, and with so little effort.

Sky’s falling apart, and Gun doesn’t even know, probably doesn’t even remember him anymore. Sky wants to scream, slap, snap out of it. He can’t do it – won’t do it – won’t let him hold that power over him.

Tomorrow, Sky decides. At lunch tomorrow, he’ll tell P’Pai about having seen the file.

He’ll tell him about Gun, and hopefully that will be enough to set things right, because if it’s not…

Sky doesn’t know what he’ll do if it’s not, if Pai says he won’t stop working with him.

***

He doesn’t make it to tomorrow. The nightmare nearly breaks him into pieces and he wakes a sweaty, suffocating mess. His breath is jagged and splintered, piercing his sides and puncturing his lungs.

He doesn’t remember what it was about, can’t put faces to his tormentors. He only knows that he can’t breathe.

Will you come to me, when you can’t breathe?

Sky doesn’t need a second reminder. He’s on his feet and out the door, not even daring to call Pai because he knows he’ll change his mind as soon as he hears his boyfriend’s voice, and Sky has no time or patience for his mind at the moment.

His heart, he chooses to act with his heart instead.

His heart has him hailing a cab to Pai’s house, has him pressing the intercom on the main gate until Phan answers, her smile fading into worry when she sees Sky in his age-worn t-shirt and his faded bermuda shorts. He makes a terrible attempt at convincing her that he’s okay when she shepherds him into the house, offering him every variety of hot drink, even offers to keep him company until P’Pai gets back from his evening out. Sky turns her down, assures her he only wants to sleep and he’ll be perfectly happy to mind his own business in Pai’s room until his boyfriend returns.

Except, he can’t. The bed is too big, too empty, and he can’t risk having another nightmare and waking up the household. The rocking chair by the window is a safer bet and so that’s where Sky decides to sit up and wait. He strips Pai’s bed of its duvet and wraps it around himself, breathing in the familiar scent and feeling his heart settle. That’s all it takes, because…

…the word, in his father’s voice, returns to fill the void in his chest, because of course his father’s right. Of course that’s what this is.

That’s why he’s here.

The door opens behind him and Sky twists around, careful not to look as adrift as he feels, just in case it’s Phan checking in on him again, offering once more to blast her brother’s phone and have him speed his way here.

It’s not Phan.

Prapai freezes when he sees him, like a deer caught in headlights, looking as lost as Sky feels. He looks guilty, like Sky’s caught him doing something he shouldn’t and for the briefest of moments, Sky jumps to the darkest of conclusions, the kind that would not have been a stretch for someone like Gun.

But Pai is not Gun, and Sky has no business ascribing those sins to his kind-hearted boyfriend. He banishes the thought, and instead falls into a different trap.

This particular snare is fashioned out of wonder and admiration, and a small measure of annoyance, because Pai has no right to look the way he does in that shiny red racer jacket, his hair pleasantly windswept, his cheeks flushed pink. Even lurking in the shadows, with that ridiculously confused pout on his face, he’s handsome, so handsome.

It’s unacceptable. He shouldn’t look like that, not when Sky looks like this.

“Are you okay,” Pai has the audacity to ask him as he closes the space between them.

Pai crouches in front of him, and Sky can only shake his head again as he reaches out to caress Sky’s face. Sky traps Pai’s fingers in his hands before they can make contact with his face. He shakes his head again as Pai’s warmth soothes away the cold twist of fear that’s been prickling underneath the surface.

“Couldn’t breathe.” He is able to muster finally, as he kisses Pai’s knuckles, hoping those two words are enough for Pai to understand because he’s not sure he’s capable of any more.

Pai understands immediately, because of course he does.

“Oh, sweetheart. Come here.” He helps Sky up from the rocking chair, tangled duvet and all, and leads them to the bed where he sits them down, sandwiching Sky between himself and the headrest. He holds Sky, his strong, sturdy arms wrapped around him like a storm shelter. Neither of them speaks, but Sky doesn’t need the conversation, the jovial small talk, he just needs this, this quiet assurance that’s uncoiling the restlessness and anxiety that has sat twisted up in the pit of his stomach since the previous evening.

“What’re you wearing?” He musters when he finally finds his voice.

“This?” The expensive leather brushes against Sky’s cheek as Pai lifts a hand to part his hair. “Riding gear. I went to the race track with Phayu. You like?”

Sky traces the horizontal black lines that cut across Pai’s chest with his fingers, making a point to linger when he notices the way Pai’s eyelids flutter at his touch. Silently, he snakes his fingers down towards the zipper which rests midway against Pai’s sternum. He tugs at it, just a fraction – no one else would be able to discern the difference.

For Pai, the touch is an igniting spark. One of his hands comes to rest atop the hand that still rests on his chest, the other finds purchase in the small of Sky’s back as he pulls him closer, until they’re chest to chest, close enough for their hearts to sync in their beating. His hands come up to cradle Sky’s face, before his lips capture Sky’s in a thought-melting kiss.

It’s exactly what Sky needs and he allows himself this moment of indulgence as he fists at the smooth leather under his hands and pulls Pai into him. He lets Pai lick at his lips, lay small, gentle kisses on either side of his mouth as he mutters words of assurance at him. He’s so gentle that it hurts; Pai holds him like Sky might crack and shatter if he holds him too tight, if his fingers press into the softness of his cheeks for too long. He flits over the curves and peaks of Sky’s person like a butterfly tending to a garden, keeping his touches feather-light as he trails his fingers down Sky’s shoulders, traces circles into the sides of his arms, leaves delicate kisses on his forehead, the tip of his nose. Pai handles him like he’s something fragile, a bloom destined to wither at sunrise.

On any other day, Sky would scoff at the notion before going out of his way to prove Pai wrong, to show him, firsthand, just how much throwing around he can take. Today, he doesn’t want to be thrown around, to have his endurance tested. Tonight…well, if he is a rare flower, destined to see only this one, singular night, then he wants Pai to keep him, to preserve him between his pages.

Sky dives sideways onto the bed, pulling Pai’s solid form down with him. They kiss through the tangle of the duvet and Sky’s grey t-shirt which Pai pulls over his head, his hands tracing the flex and pull of Sky’s biceps as he loops his arms around Pai’s shoulders.

“Lock the door.” Sky sighs against Pai’s ear, interrupting the man who is now painting his collarbone with gentle kisses, his impressionist strokes fanning a fire in Sky’s heart. The sense of loss that besieges him as Pai’s weight moves off of him – three months ago, Sky would have laughed at himself, told himself to get a grip. Now he only claws at the duvet and swallows the babble of needy nonsense that threatens to spill from his lips, and waits impatiently until Pai’s crouching over him again, rubbing his nose against Sky’s and telling him he’s going to be the death of him.

“Shut up and kiss me.” Sky hopes it sounds more assertive, and less like he’s begging as he pulls the jacket off Pai’s broad shoulders, eager – no, desperate — to scrape his fingernails across the rippling planes of his back as Pai moves on top of him, running his hands down to Sky’s waist, past his navel, to the inside of Sky’s thighs,sending a shiver up the length of Sky’s spine as he pushes them apart, stripping Sky of the rest of his clothes. Sky’s eyelids flutter frantically in tune to the whimpers that he belatedly recognises as emanating from him, as Pai’s lips continue their downward sojourn, their warmth mingling with the cold that envelopes his nakedness. It is a lethal concoction that freezes his brain.

He feels the softness of Pai’s hair between his thighs, his hot breath fanning against his now-leaking cock. Pai is predictable in his ministrations; sure enough Sky stops him just as he feels the first brush of his boyfriend’s tongue across his head. As always, Pai is at attention instantly, those big brown eyes trained attentively on Sky as he waits, for validation, for confirmation, instruction.

Whatever it is, Pai always waits.

Sky shakes his head, then finds his words before Pai can mistake the gesture for a rejection. “I want you.” He doesn’t care if that part sounds like begging, knows Pai will only see the sincerity in it. “I don’t – don’t draw it out – I just want you, please P’Pai.”

Something akin to understanding flickers in Pai’s eyes as he crawls up to kiss Sky again, and Sky’s not sure if the yearning for comfort he sees in his boyfriend’s eyes is a reflection of his own, or if it’s a window into his own personal turmoil. Sky looks at him now, really looks at him, until he sees it.

Once again, Sky’s been hoodwinked by the blinding smile, by the teasing and the good-natured shamelessness that defines his boyfriend. He remembers the weary sigh that had announced Pai’s arrival. Sky had worried about it then, before the red jacket had muddled his mind and his common sense.

“P’Pai.” Sky holds the man’s face in his hands, willing him to hold eye contact. “You okay?”

After a breath’s length of stillness, Pai nods as he twists around to kiss the palm of Sky’s hand. “You’re here, my Sky, of course I’m okay.”

They forsake conversation for kisses, swallow each other’s noises as they move in quiet synchronisation. Sky strokes his hair as Pai coaxes him open, with nimble fingers and a volley of assurances.

I have you, My Sky.

You like that? Mhmm?

I’ve got you, My Sky.

“Look at me, sweetheart.” Pai murmurs as he lifts one of Sky’s legs, unable to resist planting a kiss onto his calf as he rests it over his shoulder. “You’re so beautiful. Just…” His breath stutters and settles for a shaky smile instead. “...perfect, my Sky.”

Sky presses kisses onto his boyfriend’s neck as Pai guides himself in. They hiss in unison at the sensation that short circuits their systems as he settles. He’s so unbearably breathtaking like this, with his hair falling in his eyes, his pupils blown dark as thoughts of Sky hinder his ability for other, rational thought. His tan skin is marked - no, mapped – with a constellation of alternating bites and kisses that spell out what they always do, in a universal language that a voyeur on the other side of the planet could read.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Pai is his, and yet, there is that gnawing ache in his chest that refuses to let Sky believe that the opposite is also true.

“Kiss me.” Sky’s breathless with pleasure, with the pain of uncertainty, as he begs for the second time. Pai obliges readily, timing his kisses with his thrusts as if he means to taste Sky’s moans. Sky pulls, at his hair, at the solid contours of his back, pulls, pulls, pulls as he tries to absorb Pai, every breath, every beat, every brush of skin on skin. It still doesn’t feel like enough, will it ever feel like enough?

Abruptly, Sky shifts underneath him, coiling his legs around Pai’s lower back as he pulls them closer, pinning Pai against the length of his body.

“Fuck, baby!” Pai groans at the sudden change in pressure as Sky clenches around him.

“Ki–” Sky’s breathy command is followed before he even makes it to the end. Pai kisses him with meditative focus as he resumes his movements, his hips grinding against Sky’s, each shift winding Sky up even more, leaving him leaking, pushing him closer towards release.

Meditation, Sky thinks as he breathes in time to every thrust, exhales and lets go with every swipe of Pai’s tongue across his .

“My Sky.” He licks Pai’s needy whine from his lips and distracts him with a kiss, deep and anchoring, as Pai shudders above him, coming undone as the aftershocks tear through his entire body and crash into Sky who gives in to his own unravelling as he arches into Pai, his nails scraping half-moons onto the other man’s back as he finally unravels in the way he’s wanted to, in the way that feels to good, so…

“I’ve got you.” Pai whispers in his ears, his weight a comfort blanket atop Sky as he holds him through the trembling.

Calm. His brain supplies,and that’s really what it is.

He feels calm, for the first time since he was forced to confront his worst mistake.

***

Sky slots himself into Pai's side as they rearrange themselves onto the bed: Pai nuzzles into the top of Sky’s head, Sky's cheek rests against Pai's chest, feeling every rise and fall of breath like it’s his own. One of Pai’s hands comes to rest against Sky's chest, dangerously close to his nipples which still glisten, whether with spit or sweat is anybody’s guess.

“Looks like you're breathing again.” He whispers cheekily and Sky is too boneless, too satiated to retaliate. Pai hums, a low and rumbly sound that emanates from the back of his throat as he twines his fingers around the string of beads that rests against Sky’s clavicle. The green disc winks cheerfully at the red triangle on his wrist. “You’re thinking again, too. What is it?”

Sky tilts his chin to look up at him. It’s a straightforward question, he may never have the opportunity, or the courage to lay out his cards again.

I didn’t mean to look at your file, but –

There’s something I need to tell you about one of your clients –

You should know something about me –

And that’s where his resolve dies, because he can’t bring himself to do this, can’t stab this fragile bubble of tranquility with the serrated starkness of the thoughts that have been crowding his mind. He shuffles through his arsenal and picks a more blunt weapon.

“What would you do,” he hates how he chokes on the words. “If you ended up having to defend someone who was a criminal?”

If the question surprises Pai, he doesn’t show it. “It happens.” Sky can feel the thoughtful hum as it reverberates in his boyfriend’s throat. “Unfortunately, the people who hire high profile lawyers usually need us because they’re fighting against a reputation.”

“What if it’s really bad?” Sky pushes, unwilling to misconstrue Pai’s words as complacency or an outright disregard for human life.

“Like what?” Pai’s eyes search Sky’s for answers. “Murder?”

That’s not what Sky’s thinking, but it’s a good enough stand-in. “Yeah. What if you had to defend someone who had murdered people?”

“I don’t usually handle criminal cases –”

“Okay.” Sky interrupts him, fearing he’ll lose his nerve if he stops speaking. “What if it was…financial fraud – but it was common knowledge that the guy had also murdered someone? Would you take the case?”

There it is, the easiest way to get to the answer he wants.

Unfortunately, it is not the firm ‘absolutely not’ that he’s hoping for.

Instead, Pai lets out a deep breath and uses his free hand to push his hair off his forehead.

“It happens.” He says finally. “Sometimes a client comes in with rumours attached to them, but it’s not our job to judge.” He smiles drily, a reflex action to a well-worn explanation, it would seem. “We’re just the lawyers.”

“So you would defend the murderer?” Sky’s throat is suddenly dry, his lungs threatening to deflate again.

“The alleged murderer, you mean — if he hasn’t been convicted of the crime. On a tax evasion case?” Pai nods at him. “Yes. At their murder trial? Definitely not, not unless they were innocent.”

Sky grapples with those words, turning them over, this way and that to figure out what they mean for him.

“Why do they deserve justice?” It comes out more as an accusation than a question. Pai answers it anyway.

“I know. I hate it, too.” His fingers thread through Sky’s hair, lending the comfort that he needs. “It’s the nature of the job. I had a case like that recently, had to get a total piece of work out of forgery charges. I did that, and when he asked me to take a look at the pending assault charges against him, I told him to go to hell. Verbatim, ask Namtan if you don’t believe me. I know they say lawyers are all vile vermin, but we’re also human, we have a moral compass and it doesn’t stop working in the professional environment.”

Sky almost smiles at the indignation in his tone. Almost, because he still has a conversation he needs to get through. “What if – the rumours were true but unproveable? What if –” He has to stop as his throat finally gives way.

Breathe! Swallow! He commands his body. Breathe, before you lock down again!

That horrific moment clings to him, follows him around on days when he lets it seep into his consciousness; collapsing against a concrete pillar and being out of it, so out of it that he hadn’t realised that it wasn’t Gun until he’d seen the shoes and the security badge. It’s why he hadn’t seen the face of the man who’d made him hot chocolate and led him back into his body.

“Sky?” Pai’s up on his elbows now, turned towards Sky and looking at him with ever-growing concern. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Sky pushes the words out as he pushes into Pai, trying to use his boyfriend’s body heat as distraction. “Hold me.”

Once more, Pai obliges readily.

There it is again, that ready supply of calm that Sky loves and hates in equal measure. Another person shouldn’t be able to do this to him.

He asks his final question in fierce retaliation against the hold this man has on him..

“What if they’d killed someone you knew? Someone you…” A deep breath cheers him on as he completes that sentence. “...someone you loved?”

And that’s the question he should have asked in the first place because Pai answers it without a second thought.

“Then I wouldn’t be their lawyer, I’d be going after them with everything I had.”

It’s the answer he wants to hear, it should clear everything up.

All Sky has to do is tell him, tell him outright. Everything, all of it.

Then why doesn’t he?

***

He’s as gorgeous by moonlight as he is in the blazing morning sun, Pai’s almost afraid to breathe, worried he might cause something to shift which might shatter this perfect picture that he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to look upon.

Sky moves in his arms, he turns away from him and Pai uses the opportunity to tuck himself into Sky’s back, resting his chin against Sky’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of his peach shampoo that’s more potent than it should be, warmed as it is by Sky’s pulse which Pai can hear in his ears: steady, obstinate, strong, like Sky himself.

Reluctant. Hesitant. Those are the words Pai’s used in the past to describe the man in his bed. Tonight, he feels compelled, by his lawyer brain that always works overtime, pulling and picking at threads that would be better left alone, to add another descriptor to that list.

Secretive.

Sky’s being secretive about something, and thinking about it is keeping Pai awake.

Sky tenses in his embrace as he draws a gasping breath. He holds it for far too long, long enough to cause Pai to worry, but Sky’s pulse… his pulse is still steady and stubborn and relentless.

“Please.” A wispy plea twines itself around a shallow exhale. Pai waits, hardly daring to breathe himself.

“Please.” Sky repeats again, as he turns around in response to Pai stroking his arm.

Please ‘what’, my Sky? Why are you begging? Are the questions he wants to ask. He waits instead, impatiently, fighting the impulse to shake Sky awake.

“Please.” This final iteration is a rasp as Pai rubs circles onto Sky’s back, trying to dislodge whatever is hindering his ability to breathe.

“P’Pai.” His own name, dangling between them like a bridge between dream and reality sends a jolt through Pai.

How can he possibly resist the urge to answer it, especially when it is uttered with such desperation, like it’s the poisoned thing that’s wedged in Sky’s throat, depriving him of the oxygen that he needs?

Screw not wanting to disturb his boyfriend.

“What is it, Sky?” He strokes the side of Sky’s face now, hoping it’ll rouse him.

“Please.” It’s more a hiss than a word now. “P’Pai, please–”

“What, my Sky?” Pai thinks Sky almost smiles, like the veil between them is finally thin enough for words and thoughts and actions to get through. Pai runs his thumbs across Sky’s cheeks, maps the hollowness around his eyes, the skin here is grey, greyer than it was by light of day.

Can’t breathe.

Sky’s words from earlier in the evening come back to haunt him.

Sky couldn’t breathe, he still can’t breathe.

“Sky.” Pai says his name, louder this time, willing him to breathe.

“P’Pai?” It’s a question this time and Sky’s eyebrows furrow, his mouth curls into a downward tilt, like he’s displeased with him somehow.

Relief floods Pai’s system at this resurgence of contempt.

“Please.” An almost-scowl paints across Sky’s face as he rests his forehead on Pai’s chest.

“Please ‘what’?” Pai enquires of the top of Sky’s head as he shifts to accommodate Sky’s arms wrapping around him.

“Please don’t.” Sky sounds annoyed now, huffy, which is an excellent sign that his lungs are doing what they need to again. “Don’t, P’Pai.”

“Okay.” Pai agrees with no hesitation. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Sky agrees as he exhales against Pai’s chest, finally disappearing fully behind the veil of sleep, leaving Pai to suffer there in the brutal land of sleeplessness.

***

Chapter Text

Sky wakes to a burst of muffled giggles.

It takes a moment for him to get his bearings, to register the king bed and the blackout curtains that are playing their usual game of deception by trying to hide the time of day from him. Sky pats the space around him and touches nothing but air as the events of the night flit back into his consciousness.

Waiting up, shiny racer jacket, arms around him, worry, panic, and then calm.

Pai had held him, and Sky had slept, actually slept. It feels like a trick and Sky is torn between silent outrage at being so dependent on Pai for his peace, and celebrating the fact that he’s actually feeling the restorative effect that everyone claims sleep is supposed to have.

With a long stretch, Sky disentangles himself from the sheets and gropes around self-consciously for his clothes, which appear to have disappeared into the darkness of the too-big bedroom. Instead, his fingers curl around a mound of soft cotton by his feet: a pair of cotton pajamas and a t-shirt that would qualify as being too-tight on Pai, but will fit Sky perfectly. They are stacked atop a towel, an outrageously fluffy thing that looks like it was a cloud in a past life.

It’s too convenient for it to be coincidental: Pai’s left out clothes – and a towel – for Sky.

Shaking his head to dislodge the leaden weight of sleep, Sky stumbles his way to the bathroom where there’s a toothbrush set out for him.

It’s just a toothbrush – standard hospitality.

But then there is the face wash, the soap, the full-size bottle of the moisturiser Sky uses, the fluffy cotton dressing gown that hangs from a hook on the door. A sticky note by the sink informs him that there is more for Sky’s to try in the drawers,

That’s –

That’s just sweet, maddeningly so.

He stares a minute longer at the yellow square between his fingers. He’s seen Pai’s handwriting before, a rushed spidery scrawl that eats up all the vowels and curls upwards at the ends whenever Pai’s trying to fit notes in the margins of his documents.

The words on the sticky note are steadier, more composed as they make their way across the paper, single file, in a perfect line, every character easily discernible from its neighbour. Each word has been composed with care, the wild spiders have been tamed into coherence, for Sky’s benefit.

There is something familiar about the way these letters flow on this note…

His hazy thoughts evaporate in a yawn.

Sky turns the sink faucet to its coldest setting and splashes his face with water sourced straight from the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

He still has to figure out his own personal Titanic.

I’d be going after them with everything I had.

He believes it, knowing Pai the way he does. It’s just, and Sky knows it’s silly –

It’s just –

What if Pai doesn’t choose him? What if Sky’s not worth it in his eyes?

What if it was someone you loved?

He shouldn’t have phrased it that way, shouldn’t have assumed.

Sky’s reflection glares back at him from the mirror, judging, aggravated by the way his mind is attacking him this early in the morning.

Ten minutes later, as Sky steps back into the darkness of the bedroom, he hears it again, that half-laugh, like the person’s making a concerted effort to keep their voice down, with very little success.

“Hair is black, Pa! Silly!”

“Are you sure, Little Mouse? Not pink?”

“No! Pa is being silly.” The voice admonishes.

“Am I? Come on, another bite.”

Another giggle, another metaphorical breadcrumb for Sky to follow as he wanders over to the door that separates Pai’s bedroom from his home office. He finds them there, behind the desk, the son perched on the father’s lap as the two of them work on something together.

The something, Sky discovers as he gets closer, is a drawing. Ben has entrusted his black crayon to Pai and is instructing him on how to colour in hair while his fingers hover over his art box as he tries to pick between two colours. Pai holds the crayon in one hand, a peeled banana in the other, which he holds in front of Ben every now and then, coaxing him into taking a bite.

“Orange or brown, Pa?” Ben asks through a mouthful of banana.

“Hmmm…”

They look up at the sound of Sky’s footsteps, two sets of curious eyes focused on him.

“Morning.” Sky smiles at the pair of them, not sure of whether he should settle into the chair opposite them or walk around the desk and join them.

Ben makes the decision for him.

“Aa Sky, freeze!” The boy orders as he holds up two crayons, one in each hand. He holds both up in turn to Sky, who does his best to be as helpful as he can, considering he doesn’t know what it is he’s helping with.

“This one, see.” Pai taps at the lighter of the two browns. Ben gives it a once-over.

“Ya.” He nods his head with finality as he returns the rejected crayon back to its slot. His hand hovers over the paper and he pauses as if he’s remembered something. “Aa Sky, unfreeze!”

It’s a game, Sky doesn’t know why he’s been holding his breath.

“What are you doing?” He enquires, as he stands across from them.

“Well.” Pai sets down the black crayon on the mahogany desk. “Someone.” He ruffles the hair on his son’s head so there is no room for doubt as to who this someone might be. “Was so offended that his favourite person didn’t come say hi to him in the middle of the night, and that I wouldn’t let him wake that someone up this morning… I had to agree to being an artist’s assistant.” He sighs like he’s suffering, even though the smile on his face gives it away.

“You should have woken me.” Sky glances over to the clock on the office wall where the two needles are steadily encroaching upon the number at the top of the dial. “It’s noon! P’Pai, you shouldn’t have let me sleep in!”

“Why not? It’s the weekend.” Pai beckons him over. “Why are you all the way there? Come here.” He pouts until Sky concedes and comes and stands next to him, close enough for Pai to reach out and hold his hand.

“We call this one ‘Crayon Aa Sky’.”Pai gestures to the face on the paper which is now being given a pair of shining amber eyes. “Do you like it?”

Ben looks up at the question, suddenly interested in the conversation that’s been happening around him. Sky takes a closer look at what is supposed to be a replica of his face.

Is this really how Ben sees him? Bright-eyed and smiling, with rosy circles for cheeks and hair that looks like it belongs on Pai’s head? Crayon Aa Sky looks happy and at home, his cheeks growing rosier by the second as Ben fills them in.

It looks so far removed from the version that Sky was confronted by in the bathroom mirror, Ben may as well have drawn a stranger.

“I love it.” Sky means it, every word. “You’ve made me look so nice, Bennie.” Happy, alive, not verging on the edge of total collapse, which is how he'd felt yesterday. This is the version he wants to be, for Ben, for Pai.

Maybe a little bit for himself.

The child shrugs nonchalantly. “Aa Sky is handsome.” He declares.

Sky knows he’s red before he even looks over to his grinning boyfriend.

“Aa Sky is very handsome.” Prapai picks up his crayon. “And now I shall give this Aa Sky his pretty, fluffy hair, and after that, Bennie, we’re all going to go to the kitchen, okay?”

“For hot bean water.” Ben pulls a face.

Pai agrees with a huff. “Yes. Otherwise known as coffee, and you still have to have your breakfast.” He rolls his eyes at Sky. “Plerng’s been teaching him words.”

***

Phan flits in, dressed and ready, a pair of chunky sunglasses atop her head, like she has plans to head out.

“Hello, fam!” She casts a look at the scrambled eggs and toast that Sky and Pai are taking turns to feed Ben whenever there is a lull in the boy’s chatter. “Breakfast? Right now? I thought we were doing family lunch at that new mall – Palms XI or whatever the number is.”

Sky knows that the place is called Palms XV and that it is an absurdly ostentatious mall, an architectural monstrosity located a few streets away from the firm where Rain and Phayu work. He vaguely remembers studying about the place in university, back when the building was little more than a blueprint.

“Sh –oot.” Pai amends his statement at the last minute, out of regard for Ben. “Was that today? I forgot.”

“Really?” She looks at her brother in suspicion. “You never forget.”

“Well.” Pai shrugs. “I guess I did this time. Anyway, I can’t come, Mae and Pa need me to sit in on a video meeting in — ” He checks his watch. “ – thirty-seven minutes.”

“Fine.” Phan pours herself a cup of coffee. “We’ll just go without you. Bennie needs new shoes and I need dumplings. Leave in an hour, what do you think, P’Sky?”

Sky looks up from where he’s been helping Ben with his scrambled eggs. “I –” The word ‘no’ feels alien to him as he turns it over in his head. No, he doesn’t want to turn her down, doesn’t want to not spend the afternoon with Pai’s family, he doesn’t want to return to the loneliness of his flat – just the thought makes him apprehensive.

He feels that same maddening fondness as he looks from his boyfriend, to his sister. They don’t expect him to say no, don’t tell him he’s welcome to tag along because –

Because.

Because he’s not tagging along, he’s a part of this, he’s included by default in every family lunch, almost like he is family.

“I don’t have any clothes.” Sky finds himself saying. Or his wallet, or shoes, none of those necessities had seemed relevant last night when all Sky had needed was Prapai.

“We can drop by your place on the way. Or you can just raid Plerng’s closet, I’m sure you two are the same size.”

“No way.” Pai shakes his head at the suggestion. “You are not dressing my boyfriend in that raccoon’s clothes. He can wear mine instead.”

“You’re insane.” His sister counters. “That’ll be like a top model swapping clothes with a – a–” She struggles to find the words. “ – a grizzly bear.”

“What’s wrong with my clothes!?” Pai gets up to clear Ben’s plates and Phan shoots Sky an incredulous look, one that asks ‘can you believe this guy’?

Sky drops his gaze towards Ben, refusing to get in between the feuding siblings. The boy is more than happy to pull Sky into a story about a monkey.

“Fine.” Pai huffs. “Go have fun without me, but leave me alone with my boyfriend now.”

“Deal.” Phan holds out her hand and Pai actually shakes it, like they’re signing off on an actual deal. “You have twenty-seven minutes.” She gets Ben’s attention with a wave of her arms. “C’mon, Bennie, let’s go sort out your clothes.”

“Wanna match with Aa Sky!” Ben declares as he hops off the stool and casts an approving look at the borrowed blue shirt that Sky wears.

“We can make that happen!” Phan shoots them a final grin before following Ben out.

Pai is upon him as soon as they’re gone and for once, Sky doesn’t bat him off when he cups Sky’s face in his hands and kisses him in full view of whoever else might walk past the kitchen next.

“I’ve been wanting to do that all morning.” The admission is unsurprising, but it sends warmth rushing into Sky’s cheeks, regardless. “Did you sleep okay?”

“More than okay.” Sky nods against Pai’s chest.

“Good.” Pai’s lips skim the top of Sky’s head. “Will you tell me about it?”

“About what?”

“Something was bothering you last night.” Pai’s fingers substitute for his lips as he smoothens down Sky’s hair. “And it’s still bothering you.”

Sky pushes away to look up at him, at those imploring eyes, crinkled at the corners and filled with nothing but endless patience as Pai smiles encouragingly at him, waiting for Sky to come to him of his own accord, and Sky doesn’t have it in him to shrug it off this time or smother it under another pile of distractions.He has to do it, there is no other way out of this. He takes a final, fortifying breath before nodding in acknowledgment.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.” The crinkles around his boyfriend’s eyes disappear as he looks at Sky in rapt attention, and Sky wishes he had the ability to reassure him, to tell him there is no need for him to look so serious, so concerned, that it’s going to be okay, because that would be untrue. This is serious, a matter of concern, and Sky’s not sure if it’s going to be okay. He also doesn’t have it in him to explain himself in the ten minutes he has before Pai needs to head into his meeting.

No, something tells him this is going to be a longer conversation.

“Tonight.” Sky tells him as he disentangles himself from the man’s arms. “I’ll tell you tonight. Can I stay over again?”

The question brings the smile back onto Pai’s face. “Of course, it’s your house.”

Is it really?

***

It starts off as a solitary whisper in the back of his sleep-ridden mind, by the end of breakfast, it’s a fervent clamouring that refuses to die down –

Something feels wrong.

And that's not a problem, because Pai is an expert at righting wrongs, at fixing problems.

The problem is that he doesn’t know what it is that he’s supposed to be fixing.

The first time it happens is at sunrise.

Pai opens his eyes after three hours of disturbed sleep and finds that his duvet has been replaced by a sleeping Sky, his limbs wrapped protectively around Pai’s torso, and all Pai can do in that hushed tranquility of dawn is stare at the man who is holding him.

Holding onto him.

That’s the first whisper, the first insinuation that Pai’s missed something.

What extreme situation had caused his self-reliant, fiercely independent boyfriend to leave his flat in his pajamas to seek him out in the middle of the night? He’d been too concerned to press the matter, too happy to have Sky next to him in his bed – he’d been three seconds away from asking him to move in so they could stay like that forever.

Moving in. Living with Sky. Kissing him good night like this every night. The idea had wiped all other thoughts from his mind, until Sky had asked him that question about representing murderers in court.

He mulls over the conversation again, shares it with the whispers in his head.

That hadn’t been a casual chat, Sky had meant something by it.

What had Sky meant by it?

The whispers only grow as the sun rises higher in the sky.

Something’s wrong. There’s something he needs to fix. The feeling leaves his stomach in knots that grow tighter as the day progresses.

What does he need to fix?

He goes over the obvious items on that list –

He has to sit in on that meeting at noon, help his parents with the case they’re working on, but that’s not unusual, not something his instinct’s ever kicked in to address. This is something else, and it goes beyond legal paperwork.

Legal paperwork.

He needs to start building that defamation case against Stop. He needs to get in touch with the news source, ask his father for a copy of the email. Again, nothing he’s never done before, nothing that should have him feeling this unsettled.

At eight ‘o’ clock, Pai reluctantly rearranges Sky’s limbs and gets out of bed. The man is fast asleep and for that, Pai is grateful. Really, Pai decides, he’d like to wake up like this everyday. The vision bubbles to the surface again. Sky and him, him and Sky, waking up together, going to bed together, doing anything, everything together.

I love you.

The desperate, needy thought doesn’t surprise him at all because it’s not a realisation. Pai knows, has known for a while – since that first family lunch, maybe even before that, but he’s kept it to himself, willing himself to wait until Sky’s ready to hear it.

Not yet, but soon.

He tucks Sky in, draws the duvet over him, makes sure the air conditioning is comfortable, and draws the blackout curtains before the sun can peep in and wake up the sleeping man. He repeats that singular thought with every action.

I love you. I love you.I love you.

The knot in his stomach gives way just a little, enough to help him breathe.

Ben’s already tossing and turning and talking to Sharkie when Pai steps into his room.

“Morning, sweetheart. Did you sleep well?”

“Snuggles!” His son demands by way of greeting, his tiny hands reaching for his father.

Another knot loosens as his son’s arms wrap around Pai’s neck. “Come on, Mr.Snuggles. Let’s brush those pointy shark teeth and then you can tell me what you want to do today.”

“Wanna see Aa Sky.” Ben’s answer comes without hesitation, and there it is again, that overwhelming inferno of love that threatens to set his heart alight and swallow him whole.

“Well.” Pai drops his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you promise to be very, very quiet, and very, very, patient, then Pa has a surprise for you.”

The sense of foreboding returns when they’re in the kitchen and Phan tells him he forgot a plan. She’s suspicious, and doesn't buy his claim that he just got busy with work, but she doesn’t press for details and returns to discussing the day’s plan with Sky. Pai sneaks a look at him and spots the clouds in his eyes, his expression tethered between stifled joy and aching misery.

He’s sure of it.

Something’s wrong. With Sky.

***

The cold trickles down his backbone again as the sun makes its westward descent. Four ‘o’ clock, his meetings are done, his drafts for the case he’s building against Stop have been forwarded to Namtan for a read-through.

Done, done, done.

Every item on his list has been cleared, so he sinks back in his chair and stares up at the ceiling.

Tonight. He’ll know more by tonight, Sky told him as much. There’s no point in worrying until he knows what it is.

They’re okay. It’s not about them, he’s sure of that.

Would you defend a murderer?

Sky had been upset when he’d asked the question, disappointed when he’d heard Pai’s answer.

Don’t. P’Pai, don’t. Please.

This wasn’t about a hypothetical case. Sky had asked, no, told him not to do something.

Which had to mean that Sky was losing sleep over something Pai had done, or was planning to do…

His phone rings and interrupts his thought spiral. The voice on the other end does nothing to assuage the noise in his head. The ice on his spine turns to needles as he registers his sister’s panicked words –

“Phi, please, you have to get here now. It’s – Stop’s – just, please get here!”

***

Chapter Text

Pai gets there, not soon enough, no, because he should have been there, he shouldn’t have let them go without him, should have kept Ben in his sights, shouldn’t have underestimated Stop, not in the aftermath of him losing his backer –

Shouldn’t have –

How did he find them?

He must have been keeping an eye out.

What? How?

Stop’s an idiot.

How did Pai not notice?

How did he not see?

This is his fault.

The weekend traffic is sparse and relaxed. Pai cuts through the lanes, steps on the accelerator at every orange light to get to the mall in record time. He stops in the first available space, ignoring the parking attendant who steps out and waves at him to tell him he can’t park there. He sprints into the lobby, takes the lift to the top floor, where the food court is.

He finds her there in the middle of a crowd of security and curious passers-by. His sister is yelling, trying to reason with an impassive policeman as she points to the bloody-nosed man who is crawling to his feet in front of her, his lips painted red as he snarls at her. The police officer stands with a restraining hand on her shoulder, like she’s the criminal in this setting.

“I’ve told you!” Phan is yelling at the officers, at the assembled crowd, at anyone else who might listen. “He’s in on it. He came up to distract me and sent his friends after them!”

“I just wanted to meet my nephew!” Stop’s voice is distorted by the damage to his nose, just like his worldview’s been distorted by his sense of entitlement. “I just wanted to meet my late sister’s son!” He hollers for everyone to hear. “And they won’t let me! I didn’t do a thing, officers! This is abuse! She broke my nose, look! That's the kind of people they are!”

Meet his nephew. Like he’s a caring uncle all of a sudden. It’s all a game to win sympathy, from the police, from the crowd; Stop craves recognition and fame, he thrives on pity, survives on desperation. Right now, he's desperate, which makes him stupid - a dangerous combination.

Pai doesn't have the time to process, to fret about how it all came to this. There will be time for that later.

He covers the distance and grabs Stop by the neck of his t-shirt, foisting him up before the officer at his sister’s side can even register his presence.

His so-called brother-in-law looks shaken and bloodied, but so smug, like a cat that finally made its first kill, like he’s finally got what he wanted. Hatred, cold and unrelenting, weaves its way into the fear and red-hot anger that’s blazing through Pai’s veins.

Pai decides he’d like to punch the smugness off the man’s face.

He strikes him with all he’s got, his fist slams against the man’s already broken nose, the vermillion beads on his wrist bite into the man’s jaw as Stop falls backward with a yell of pain. Pai hopes it’s not an exaggeration because he needs the man to feel every blow, needs him to scream harder, until he has his answers.

“Where.” He raises his hand to strike again.

“Are.” Stop tries to push away from him, the smug leer replaced with fearful wide-eyes, no doubt for the benefit of the security personnel and the strangers around them that only see two people assaulting a poor man.

Victim, he’s always the victim in his own head.

“They?” His fist makes contact with Stop’s cheek. The man grunts as he makes an unsuccessful effort to push Pai off of him. His eyes bore into Pai's. Natsu always hated the family resemblance to her brother, the fact that they had the same eyes. Pai disagrees; Nastu's eyes were always illuminated with intelligence and wit, her brother's hold only malice.

“Go on.” Stop sputters, holding a hand out to shield his face. “But if you hit me like that, I may let some things slip…” He cranes his neck, spits blood out of his mouth before he speaks again.

The words are wispy and vapourous, barely audible to those around them, but they ring in Pai’s ears and leave fresh welts.

Blackmail, as predicted.

The rest of his sentence disappears into the ether as Pai feels his control seep away.

His fist makes contact with Stop’s broken nose, and the man shrieks at the unexpected attack, because of course he thinks his underhand threats will work on Pai. Delusional, misinformed, short-sighted; those are some other words to describe the man.

“Where are they!??” Pai roars over the screaming as he goes for another punch. His fist never makes contact - the guard behind him tries to restrain him. Pai breaks free, determined to break, to crush, to ruin, until he has answers.

The officer holding Phan finally lets go of her and leaps over to help his colleague with the rampaging man who is currently realigning his victim’s jaw.

“Help! He’s going to kill me!”

Not yet. Pai wants to say. Not until you give them back.

“Please.” The voice in his ear is pleading, soothing. “We’re doing everything we can, we’re looking for them. This man was not among the kidnappers.”

Kidnappers.

The word sends a new rush of terror down his spine, a fresh urge to disfigure and maim, even though he knows violence will get him no answers. Violence will just make Stop pass out, and he can’t have that, not while there are answers to be extracted.

Get it together! He admonishes himself as regret replaces rage. He’s wasted precious minutes on Stop, minutes he could have spent looking for them, finding them.

Ben –

Sky–

He has to find them.

Pai shrugs out of the officer’s grip and gets back to his feet. Police, he’ll let the police deal with Stop. Stop can rot in hell for all he cares. Stop can run into the sunset, unscathed and unhurt if it’ll bring Ben and Sky back to him right this instant.

“Which way did they go?” He asks Phan, the officers, Stop, anyone who might answer.

“I don’t know.” Phan is teary-eyed now as she leans heavily against the cash counter behind them. “I don’t know, Phi. He came up to me while I was paying for coffee and started talking…I didn’t realise he’d brought more friends, that he was just trying to distract me.”

Pai grabs the policeman by the shoulders, knowing full well that people have landed in lock-up for less. “Sky’s phone. Can’t we track them if I give you Sky’s phone –”

It’s an obvious thought, so obvious in fact that there’s no reason why Phan wouldn’t have done it already. He doesn’t wait for a response as he dials Sky’s number.

It rings. And rings. And rings.

Please, please, please.

I love you, l love you. Please, please pick up.

“Phi.” Phan’s hand clamps down on his shoulder. He turns to look at her, to the tears in her eyes, to the guilt that doesn’t belong there. “I tried.” She shakes her head. “He left it on the table.” Pai follows her gaze to the far end of the cafeteria, where another police team is gathered around one of the tables. A stuffed shark occupies one of the four seats, staring morosely at the half-eaten bowls of food, at the ice-cream sundae that’s collapsed onto itself and drowned the cherries that surmounted it. A shopping bag lies on its side at the foot of the table and gapes at them in shock.

The officer at his elbow is trying to ask something, but Pai’s not listening as he makes a beeline for the table.

Sharkie. He needs to get to Sharkie, needs to hold onto him because Ben will be unhappy if he loses his favourite toy.

Ben.

Sky.

How could he have let this happen?

Frantically, he searches the tabletop for the phone they say he’s left behind. One of the officers hands it to him, and Pai cradles it in his hands. He stares dismally at the screen as it lights up at his touch -- his own face grins back at him: his chin slotted into the crook of Sky’s neck as his boyfriend smiles at the boy that sits between them with his face buried in the overstuffed shark in his arms.

Plerng had taken the photo at one of their Sunday lunches. Sky had complained he was a clingy octopus, but he hadn’t told him to let go.

That happy snapshot is a freshly-honed dagger in Pai’s side. It’s his fault. He should have kept an eye out, should have anticipated that the desperation would give the coward an incentive to walk the thin line between boldness and stupidity.

Stupid. How could he have been so stupid?

He shouldn’t have let them out of his sight, he should have listened when his mind had screamed at him that something wasn’t right. He should have just left Stop to P'Pakin and not wasted time with the law...

There is a commotion around them as a team of officers cuts their way back into the food court.

“We got them!” Someone yells and then there are arms helping Pai up to his feet – when did he sink into this chair? — and then they're back by the cash counter, where Stop’s looking significantly less confident as he looks over at his sweat-drenched cronies.

“Where –?” He looks beyond the unfamiliar faces of the duo that has been hauled up by the police. Stop’s associates, Gun’s men, most likely. Whether they’re there on orders or out of a misplaced loyalty to Stop, Pai finds he doesn’t care for nuance at that moment.

The police officer’s asking for his attention again, his mouth set in a thin line. Behind him, his colleagues look more alert than ever as they speak into their walkie-talkies and coordinate with mall security.

Get us CCTV.

Have your team do a sweep of the area.

Send photos of the two to everyone on the ground.

“Mall security went after the suspects as soon as your sister raised an alarm. We’ve apprehended them.” The officer is speaking to Pai now. “But they claim they don’t have your son or husband–”

He doesn’t bother correcting the officer, telling him that Sky isn’t his husband, not yet. Right now, he’s just the man that he loves who’s gotten embroiled in all of this through no fault of his own. Where is he? Where is Ben?

“What does that mean?” There are only more questions as the officer’s words sink in.

They’re not here.

Not here.

Where?

“They claim your husband fought them off and managed to break free. They got away. We’re looking at CCTV to see where they might have gone. Every lift, every escalator. We’ll find them.”

His walkie-talkie crackles with static mingled with words that only he can decipher. He speaks into it, but doesn’t amend his statement to Pai.

Which means they still don’t know.

Fought them off, Sky fought off two people on his own. He could be hurt – they could be – no, he mustn’t think like that.

His fault. This is his fault for not taking Stop seriously, for letting him go free for so long.

“The good news is —”

Good. It’s a false descriptor and he knows it. Nothing is good, nothing is okay, not until he knows, not until he has them in his arms. Safe, protected, close enough for him to feel the rise and fall of their breaths. Gods, he has has has to find them, he’ll scour the mall himself, check every corner, he won’t let them go again…

“ – confessed that Stop put them up to this in return for a portion of the ransom, so we’re taking them all in on attempted kidnapping, and dropping the assault charges against your sister –”

“CCTV.” Pai interrupts the man. “I need to see the CCTV. Now.”

“We’re looking at it.” The officer makes another futile attempt to reassure him. “It’s hard to get a visual with the crowds –”

“Let me see the CCTV!” Pai shouts over his empty platitudes, refusing to read the suggestion in those words. “I’ll find them. Let me see the CCTV. I have to find them!”

***

Chapter Text

The glass buildings bend around him in a competition to see who collapses first.

It won’t be him.

He fights the stitch in his side, the relentless shaking in his legs as he navigates past the weekend crowd, not daring to look back.

He mustn’t look back. He can only do this if he believes he’s in the lead.

He trips over gravel, the added weight to his front nearly sends him splaying. He can’t fall, not on his front. He claws at the cracked concrete and manages, miraculously, to get away with little more than a bleeding palm.

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” He uses what little breath he has to chant words of comfort, as he pushes, wills his protesting body to get upright again. Just a little longer…just – one, two, then around the corner, and in.

He’s almost there.

Just.

Run, he just needs to run.

Why does he always have to keep running?

***

Two hours ago

The blueprints have not done the mall justice, so when they arrive close to noon, after Sky’s made a quick stop home to put on some jeans – he’s chosen to wear Pai’s t-shirt, but only because Ben’s still giddy about the fact that they match. It has nothing to do with the fact that the soft fabric smells like Pai, a crisp mix of pine and sea salt, or that the faint kiss of the fragrance on his skin gives him more comfort than he’d like to admit.

He walks hand in hand with Ben, a step behind Phan who has a list at the ready, of shops she wants to drop in at, of things she needs to buy.

Like her brother, she’s hyper-attentive and generous.

“Oh, that’ll look so good on you! We should get that!” She nods enthusiastically when she catches Sky looking at a mannequin in a rhinestone studded satin suit. Sky hurries to dispel the misunderstanding.

“It’s not my style. It just reminded me of a friend who works close by.” In fact, Sky’s about ninety percent sure that Rain has sent him a photo of this exact suit, the caption begging Sky to talk him out of buying it.

“He does? You should invite him to lunch if he’s working today!”

Sky doesn’t think that would be the best idea. He’s not brave enough to deal with the possibility of Rain getting along with Phan and turning lunch into a ‘let’s tease Sky’ party. It’s bad enough that he’s enlisted his father in his scheme to bully Sky into living the life that he deserves.

Sky is happy to window shop, to spend the hours admiring the shopfronts and the clean, modern lines that crisscross overhead and transform the ceiling into a postmodernist canopy of palms . He remembers this concept from the blueprint; to see it translated into this solid, tangible form, well, it reminds him of why he decided to study architecture in the first place: because it had seemed like the best way to turn his thoughts into something constructive, and god knows, Sky had had too many thoughts and not enough space in his head, or hours in the day to examine them all.

It’s not much different from how he feels today.

That cold, clawing anxiety, the gnawing fear that he’s about to lose it all, he feels it simmering under his skin, stretching and unfurling like a beast that’s been rudely awakened from hibernation.

He hides from the beast by focusing on shopping and food, and Ben, who has his heart set on a pair of flashy neon shoes that the salesperson can’t seem to find in his size. Phan buys them anyway, in addition to a shiny blue pair that fits.

“He’ll grow into them.” She tells Sky as she swipes her card against the reader. “He can wear them in two years, on his first day of primary school, when he’s too cool for us and our hugs.” She says as Ben swings between the two of them, a hand in each of theirs. “I am not ready for this one to be a teenager. If he’s anything like how P’Pai was…” She breaks off with a shudder. “Or Plerng. Lucky he has you and me to lead him down a less treacherous path.”

Oh, if only she knew how far beyond treacherous the path that Sky went down as a teenager was. Maybe if she knew, she wouldn’t be this flippant about assuming Sky’s going to be allowed the privilege of seeing Ben as a sullen teenager.

What if they find out?

What if P’Pai thinks you’re disgusting?

That’s another thought for later, for the evening when Sky’s promised to tell Pai everything.

They grab a table at the food court and settle down for lunch. Ben dutifully climbs into the seat next to Sky and Phan sets about ordering for them. Like Pai, she too, is an expert at paying for things before Sky can even offer.

“Please, P’Sky. If anything, I’m using you to treat myself. P’Pai’s not going to let me spoil you, this is all on him, and just for that.” She rises to her feet. “I think we should get ice-cream.”

“Chocolate!” Ben raises the hand.

“Yes, boss!” Phan mock salutes him with a grin. “And what would Sharkie like?”

“Nothing.” Ben looks at her pityingly. “Sharks don’t eat ice-cream.”

“Too bad.” She pouts in mock disappointment. “What about you, Aa Sky?”

Sky shakes his head. “I’ll just get a coffee —”

“I’ll get us the coffees.” Phan corrects. “You stay put and be a strong, brave bodyguard to Sharkie.”

“Sharks don’t need bodyguards!” Ben calls after his aunt’s retreating back. With a defeated sigh, he turns to Sky, his eyebrows knitted together in the finest of frowns.

“Aa Phan doesn’t know anything.”

They’re deep in a conversation about a monkey and a man with a hat, and Sky’s just finished telling an incredulous Ben about the monkeys that terrorise his father in Lopburi, when he first spots them, weaving through the crowded food court, their eyes fixed on Sky. That they’re not just harried mall-crawlers is immediately obvious to Sky.

It’s all in the eyes.

He’s seen that look before. Their features are contorted by that jarring shadow of animalistic greed that most people have evolved out of. Sky recognises the hunger in their eyes, and knows it has nothing to do with food.

With his instincts screaming at him, Sky wraps his arms protectively around Ben, scoops him out of his chair and into his lap. The boy doesn’t protest, he’s only too happy to have an opportunity to play with the necklace that Sky still wears like a medal. Phan, he needs to get Ben to Phan, to safety. But Phan’s too far away, engaged in conversation with someone at the counter. She’ll never get to them in time. He can’t leave him here, alone, can’t have them touch him.

“There, in the blue shirt!” They shout as they finally lock eyes on Sky, confirming his worst fears.

They’re here for him.

Somehow, the nightmare has invaded the safe sanctum of this cheerful weekend morning.

Somehow, somehow, Gun’s figured it out.

Sky does the only thing he can.

He runs.

***

“Sharkie!” Ben’s protests are muted white noise against the deafening rush in Sky’s ears as he sprints, knowing that he’s mere steps ahead of the two men on his tail. He’ll never be able to shake them off, not under these bright lights, not on these slippery marble floors, not when he has to sidestep shoppers and slow walkers glued to their mobile phones every three feet.

He has to outrun them.

The alternative isn’t a choice. He can’t let them get to Ben. He’ll never forgive himself –

No. It’s not an option.

Run Run. Run!

“For fuck’s sake, cut him off!” One of the faceless monsters hollers. Sky doesn’t turn around to see if his command is heeded.

It’s a mistake.

The footsteps behind him grow heavier, louder, closer.

Sky smells the rancid cigarette-breath before he feels the nails cutting into his arm, the fingers snaking around his wrist like a vengeful viper.

“Not so fast, pretty boy.”

The familiar nausea snakes its way up Sky’s body, chased by that long-suppressed feral urge to get away, to fight, kick, punch –

– bite, if he has to.

He has to, with Ben in his arms, his head buried in Pai’s shirt as he sniffles at the loss of Sharkie, at this sudden upheaval in his life.

He has to.

“Ow!” The surprised yelp of pain from his captor is what tells Sky that he’s actually followed through on his threat. Cigarette-breath cradles his wrist, his lips form expletives that Sky can only guess at. It’s all pointless, useless, dangerous right now.

Get away.

He twists out of the way as his captors swipe at him a second time. This time, Sky kicks, using his legs as best as he can to make up for the fact that his arms are carrying Ben, who is getting more agitated, more confused with every passing moment.

He makes contact, could be a leg, could be a bench, Sky doesn’t wait to find out. Something or someone crashes to the floor with a loud crunch!

He needs to get away!

“It’s okay, Bennie, it’s okay.” He soothes the boy, trying his best to speak even as his lungs gasp for air. “It’s just a game. You’re just playing a game with Aa Sky, okay?”

They can’t be here. Ben’s not safe.

Safe. Where’s safe?

A fragment of a memory breaks the tumultuous clash of the past and present in his mind. A flash of gridlines and markings, solid lines for walls, dashes for windows and shop entrances – running into a shop would be a trap. What if the staff don’t help? What if his pursuers are armed? – dense, thatched lines for escalators – he can’t take those, too slow –

– the lift lobby and then—

– the concealed passage that runs right behind the lift lobby.

The service corridor. The service stairs that connect to the external fire exit.

The blueprint in his mind tells him to crash into a group of shoppers and use the ensuing chaos to swerve left and push past the double doors that lead to the lift lobby, past the door marked ‘authorised personnel only’.

The service corridor greets him like an old friend and Sky hurries down it until he finds the stairwell that leads down to the fire assembly point.

The law mandates that the door at the other end must be unlocked at all times.

The law is supposed to be fair, according to Pai.

Sky begs that this is true,

“It’s okay, Bennie, it’s okay.” He manages to say despite the stitch in his side, as the boy whimpers into his neck, his arms wrapped tightly enough around Sky’s neck to constrict his airway.

Seven flights of stairs.

He just needs to get to the assembly point and then –

He’s going to need a phone to call Pai, to tell him Ben’s okay, that he’s sorry, that it’s all his fault. He doesn’t know how or why, just that this is all on him. He’s put Ben in danger, so it’s on him to get Ben to safety.

Safe. Where’s safe?

The rhinestone suit that lives three floors above them appears in his mind’s eye.

It’s not far.

He doesn’t care if it is far.

Sky runs as fast as his legs will carry him, until he’s out in the blinding daylight, trying to barter breath for balance because he needs to run, to get to where he knows Ben will be looked after… he can catch his breath later.

“It’s okay, Bennie, it’s okay.”

***

Now

“There!”

The security guard smashes the space bar to pause the footage as Pai points at the blur of blue by the benches, a few feet away from the entrance to the food court.

“That’s them.” He’s sure of it.

The security guard hits play again and Pai and the police officer at his shoulder follow the figure in blue as it sprints away from the food court, his arms wrapped around the child that clings from his neck, like a sturdy, protective cage.

“They catch up to him…” The police officer mutters as two men surround Sky on the screen. “But then…pause.” The security officer follows the order. Pai and the police officer peer at the screen, one pair of eyes discerning, evaluating, the other desperate, unblinking,begging.

Please, look this way. Tell me where you are.

The shark in his hands bears the brunt of his desperation as his fingers dig ridges into the plush fabric.

Pa, no! Don’t hurt Sharkie! His son’s voice reprimands him. Pai slackens his grip as he mentally apologises to the poor toy that doesn’t deserve his wrath. He redirects his attention to the CCTV monitor.

“He fights them off.” One of the figures flails backwards into a bench and Sky takes off again. “They go after him – then it gets crowded here.” The police officer – his badge says his name is Rattanakul – taps at the throng of shoppers at the top of the screen, where the mall opens up into the atrium. “Where could he have gone from here?”

“We caught the men at the escalators.” The security guard points to the left of the screen. “And he wasn’t there.”

“The shops?”

Another officer steps forward to confirm what they already know: none of the shops have reported a disturbance.

“Which leaves the lift lobby, where the CCTVs are positioned in front of the lifts, and none of them picked up Khun Sky.”

None of them will say what that means; that they’re still on square one, and they have no idea where Sky’s disappeared to with Ben.

“The two men in custody swear they lost him outside the department store. And that there were no other accomplices.” Rattanakul’s colleague tells the room at large.

“Which means he’s still here – or” The man hesitates before barreling on. “ – maybe Khun Sky took Ben away of his own accord.”

Pai blanches at the insinuation. Sky’s taken Ben? Has he not followed the footage like Pai has? The rage boiling in him finally finds a fresh target.

Rattanakul saves him from making a fool of himself and landing a charge for assault. The policeman steps in front of him and dismisses his subordinate with an order.

“Look in the bathrooms again.That’s the only major blind spot.”

The image of his boyfriend and his son cowering in a bathroom stall somewhere, afraid, confused, his fault, this is all his fault. He should have expected this from Stop, should have anticipated that Gun’s withdrawal of support would drive him over the edge, make him stupid, reckless, dangerous. He should have paid attention, should have done everything in his power to make sure it never came to this.

He doesn’t know where they are.

“Phi.” His sister’s voice lulls him from the depths of hopelessness. “Phi, your phone.” He looks from her to the device in his hand that’s demanding his attention.

The screen lights up to tell him it’s Phayu.

Fuck. Another thing he was supposed to do, tell Phayu as soon as they had an update on Stop, because that’s how they’d allowed themselves to believe it would be like, it would be them dealing the blows –

He doesn’t have the heart to pick up the phone. Not until he knows where Sky is, not until Ben’s in his arms again.

The buzzing dies down for a second, before resuming with renewed fervour.

He can’t escape it.

With shaking hands and a voice that stings like sandpaper in his throat, Pai answers the call.

Phayu doesn’t give him a chance to speak.

“Pai – listen! – you need to come to my office.”

Pai struggles to find the word, the word he’s supposed to say in this instance. No. No, he can’t go anywhere, not until he has them.

No. It grates on his lips when he speaks it. “I can’t –”

“Pai.” Phayu’s voice is uncharacteristically gentle in the face of this rejection. “Ben, Sky. They’re here, they need you here.”

***

The lobby is deserted when Sky tears through it, ignoring the way his legs are threatening to buckle under him as his body screams at him to stop, to slow down.

Not yet.

Soon, as soon as he gets to the door at the end of this corridor, but not yet.

A yell erupts from behind him, Sky vaguely registers it as a command to stop, it only propels him forward.

Come on. He chastises his protesting body. We’re almost there.

“What’s the commotion, Khun Leo?” A face peaks out from the door at the end of the corridor, its features blurry against the haze that’s beginning to distort Sky’s vision, but discernable enough for him to identify that the face is familiar

Safe.

“Sky?” The man is at his elbow now, a hand on Sky’s shoulder, anchoring him in place, holding him upright as his body threatens to collapse now that it’s not being forced to flee. “Easy. What’s going on? What’re you doing here?”

He can stop now. He’s made it.

Phayu’s here. He can call P’Pai, let him know.

I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.

“Here. Hi Bennie.” Phayu seems to be saying as he extends his arms, a forced smile on his face as he greets the boy in Sky’s arms. Reflexively, Sky pulls him closer into him, refusing to let go, unwilling to risk even a split second of complacency.

“Okay, okay.” The older man’s voice is placatory. He settles for pressing his hand into Sky’s back instead, nudging him towards the door. “Come on, let's sit down. Let me get you some water, Ben might be thirsty.”

Ben probably is thirsty. Yes, water sounds like an excellent idea. Sky could sob with relief, but he doesn’t think his body could handle it.

“Sky?” Rain gets to his feet with a jolt as his boyfriend ushers his best friend into their office. “What’re you doing here?” He stares open-mouthed at the sweat-stained t-shirt, at the painful heaving of his chest as Sky’s lungs make a futile attempt to catch breath.

“Woah. Careful.” The world tilts on its axis and now Sky’s leaning against something soft and cushioned, and every muscle in his body is crying its thanks, because the ordeal is over, he can stop running now.

“Aa ‘ky?”

The haze in his mind lifts immediately in response to the tinny, imploring voice in his ear. He turns his head to look at the boy who has his arms still wrapped around Sky’s neck as he blinks at him.

He can’t find his voice, so he just nods instead.

“Sharkie.” Ben’s lower lip quivers as the curiosity in his eyes is replaced by sadness. “Aa Sky forgot Sharkie.”

Ben may not be old enough to understand the complexities of the emotions he's feeling, but Sky sees it for what it is: another betrayal. How did he let it go so wrong? How could he have failed so miserably to have betrayed everything good in his life? He’s failed Pai, and now he’s failed Ben.

“I’m sorry.” Sky croaks as his arms fall to his sides like dead weights, no longer able to hold onto Ben, utterly useless, like everything else about him.

It’s not true. His inner voice reprimands him; Sky ignores it like he always does.

“Bennie.” Phayu crouches on the floor next to Sky, as he hands a glass of water to the confused child. “Pa needed to talk to Sharkie about something important.”

“Pa has Sharkie?” Ben’s voice is unsure, but hopeful as he squirms and hops off of Sky’s lap, preoccupied now by the trinkets and models on the shelves around him.

“Pa will look after Sharkie.” Phayu confirms as he coaxes a second glass of water into Sky’s hand.

“Why don’t you lie down?” He enquires softly of Sky, who shakes his head because he can’t allow himself to rest, not even now when he’s surrounded by people he knows; no, he still needs to be responsible for Ben.

Not yet, he can’t drift away yet.

“Okay.” Ben trots over to Rain’s desk, where the jenga tiles Rain uses to build versions of his blueprints lie scattered across the glass surface. “Blocks?”

“This?” Rain hurries over to him. “It’s called Jenga. C’mon, I’ll teach you how to play.”

Ben’s gaze darts from the wooden blocks, to the strange, fascinating waif with the ash blonde hair, to Sky, who is frozen on the couch, his back ramrod straight as he follows Ben around the room, a shadow of wild, primal focus clouding his usually bright eyes.

“Can Aa Sky play too?”

Rain hesitates, unsure of how to communicate with his young guest. “I’m not sure if –”

“I want to play.” The sore spot between his ribs twinges painfully at his attempt to string together a sentence. A spike of pain shoots through his legs as Sky forces himself to his feet. He feels Phayu tense next to him as if he expects Sky to collapse again; opposite them, Rain opens his mouth to argue, to tell Sky to relax, to let his guard down.

“Please. ” He drags himself over to Rain's desk and sinks into the carpet in front of it, using its solid wooden legs as a backrest. “Let me play.”

***

It has to be a prank. A twisted, unkind prank, the kind Phayu’s never played on him before, but it has to be, because how did Sky end up at his best friend’s office all the way up the road?

It’s impossible. Impossible, impossible, impossible — the thought becomes a refrain as Pai follows in Sky’s footsteps, sprinting to the three-storey office that houses Phayu’s architecture firm, with Phan and the policeman on his heels.

Impossible. He thinks as Phayu catches him in the lobby, physically restrains him because he’s going the wrong way. How?

“This way.” He manoeuvres them down a corridor, past empty conference rooms and deserted cubicles, which on a weekday, would be teeming with architects. On a weekend, the office is uncharacteristically silent, which is why the loud crash at the end of the corridor rips through Pai with the force of like a nuclear bomb.

It is followed by a shriek that makes Pai’s blood run cold.

Ben.

Prapai breaks out of Phayu’s grip and sprints the last few feet to the last door, feeling his heart punch through his ribcage as he locates the source of the crash, the reason for his son’s screams.

Victory, not pain.

“I win!” Ben cheers to Phayu’s boyfriend who has his head in his hands, a jenga block balanced between fingers that hover over the remains of the tower he just toppled. Rain, Sky and Ben are on the carpet in front of the architects’ workstation. Ben is nestled in Sky’s lap, a hand holding onto his forearm as he hinges forward to inspect the rubble at his feet.

“You’re so good at this, Bennie.” Rain grins at the boy. Ben leans back against Sky’s chest, his cheeks pink at the compliment delivered by this near stranger.

He’s okay. They’re okay.

“Jenga is fun.” He cranes his neck to look up at Sky, who indulges him with a smile.

It fades away as soon as Ben turns back to Rain, like it was little more than a mirage, a false sentinel of hope in a barren, godforsaken land.

Ben notices him first, where he’s leaning heavily against the door, rendered useless by relief, by the realisation that they’re here, that they’re real.

“Sharkie!” Ben’s face lights up as he beckons impatiently for Pai to reunite him with his favourite aquatic companion. Pai’s legs lead him towards them of their own volition, like they’ve been reeled in by an invisible tether that works on instinct, and is conditioned to be wherever his son is, wherever Sky is.

“See, Pa brought him to you.” Sky’s voice is hoarse but steady as he speaks into Ben’s hair.

“Aa Sky forgot Sharkie.” Ben’s voice bears the icy hint of reprimand. On any other day, it would be endearing, admirable even, the fact that his son’s not afraid to voice his opinions. Today, it makes Pai wince.

Plerng’s voice from not long ago drifts into his mind.

He’s had a normal day.

Amazingly, the statement rings true today as well. His son is content in his boyfriend’s lap, playing jenga and meeting Rain for maybe the second time, blissfully unaware of the fact that he just escaped a kidnapping. Ben’s safe, he’s happy, save for his annoyance at having been parted from Sharkie.

The fact that Pai had nothing to do with securing this safety is a stab to the gut.

“I’m sorry.” Sky’s voice breaks but he hastens to cover it with a rueful smile. “I won't forget him again.”

Perhaps Ben senses the quiver in his voice, or maybe it’s because he’s close enough to feel Sky’s trembling hands, but he twists around to look up at Sky, his hand reaching for Sky’s face, his eyes wide and questioning.

“It’s okay, Aa Sky.” He pats Sky’s cheek reassuringly – a gesture of comfort he’s undoubtedly picked up from his family. He smiles as he repeats the motion. “It’s okay, Aa Sky. Don’t be sad.”

Sky breaks under the weight of the forgiveness that comes so easily to Ben. A sob threatens to spill from his lips as he hides his face in his hand, unwilling to let Ben see him fall apart. Pai feels his own restraint crumble at the sight; his knees buckle under him as he falls to the floor and engulfs the pair of them, aching to hold them close, to make it so they never have to let go of each other again. They huddle together on Phayu and Rain’s expensive carpet, arms around each other with Ben coccooned between them, miraculously oblivious and a little confused at the sudden outpouring of affection.

“Pa, heavy!” He squeaks eventually, and reluctantly, Pai loosens his hold around them.

“Sorry, Bennie. Pa’s sorry. So sorry.”

“It’s okay, Pa.” His son soothes him as he pats his shoulder. “All good now.”

If only it were that easy for him to forgive himself.

***

The rest of the day passes in a flurry of witness statements and apologies.

The first one comes from Phayu who pulls him aside as he waits outside the office, where the police are taking down Sky’s initial statement. The door to the adjacent office has been flung open unceremoniously, to give Pai a clear view of Ben, Phan and Rain (and Sharkie) as they initiate another round of jenga.

He's safe. He's okay. He's had a normal day.

He chants the words for the millionth time as he waits for Sky to be done, so they can all go home and help each other heal from the ravages of the day.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t –” His weary objections go unnoticed as Phayu shakes his head and repeats the words.

“I'm sorry. It’s my fault.”

“It’s not.” Never, it’s his, all of this is on him and his incompetence. He was supposed to keep Ben safe, it’s the promise he made to Natsu, to himself, to Ben. This is all his fault.

“It is,” Phayu counters the dismissal. “I never should have said those things to you. I didn’t mean them, they were all untrue –”

“I know.” Pai cuts him off. They’ve been here before, they’ve put this behind them and agreed to never bring them up, to never go down this path because it leads nowhere constructive. “It's not your fault.”

“It is. I knew what the track was like, I knew how word travelled across the circuit, I should never have called you those things.” Phayu kicks at the wall and Pai scoffs in spite of himself, because he knows that on any other day, an action like that would have invited Phayu's wrath; now the man's flouting his own rules.

“You didn’t call me anything. The track made up those rumours.” Pai refuses to back down. “And if they hadn’t existed, Stop would have found something else.” It's the truth. Stop's made it abundantly obvious that although he had a clear objective – money, he never had a concrete plan for attaining it. If he hadn't found the story at the racetrack, he'd have found something else to threaten Pai with.

“This is all on Stop.” Pai glares at his best friend. “Don't take credit for what he did.”

After a painful moment of uncertainty, Phayu claps him on the shoulder. “You should take your own advice.”

Pai bats him away, unable to assure him that he won't be a hypocrite about this. He voices a different thought instead. “Gun.”

There are several things he would like to say about Gun, but they boil down to a singular all-encompassing thought: that he can’t be allowed to get away with this. He hasn’t run a tight enough ship, if his men were so easily swayed to help out Stop. He’s inadvertently harmed Pai’s family, and Pai can’t let him get away with that.

Not now, not in the future.

“Yeah. Gun.” Phayu agrees, his expression one of silent comprehension, just as the office door swings open and Sky walks out, followed by the stoic police officer.

***

“I’d like to talk to you next, Khun Prapai.” The man shakes his head in reply to the unarticulated question. “It won’t take long.”

“Five minutes.” It’ll probably help to frame that as a question. “May I have five minutes?”

The man retreats behind the door with a nod; Phayu slinks away tactfully to join the jenga game.

It’s just Sky and him, standing four feet apart in this corridor, within earshot of family and friends and a waiting policeman. It’s not ideal; what Pai would really like is to be back home where he can hold Sky close as he tends to the cut on his palm that Rain’s patched temporarily with a bandaid; where he can kiss away the haunted look that Sky’s fighting most valiantly to suppress. He’s failing at it because his inner turmoil shines obstinately from weary eyes that refuse to meet Pai’s, and Pai understands, he gets it, he’s even certain he deserves this.

Maybe Sky will forgive him once he explains everything. He’ll put in the work, whatever it takes to earn Sky’s trust again, to put the sparkling vitality back in those eyes, he’ll do it. This corridor isn’t the most ideal setting to initiate the process, but it’s a start.

Sky doesn’t protest when Pai pulls him into him. He doesn’t huff or protest, or object to Pai’s very public display of neediness. He just… leans against him, his expression impassive, like it’s been painted onto his porcelain skin. He’s a doll, in the worst possible way, and the realisation sends a fresh thrum of foreboding down Pai’s spine. He pulls Sky closer, until the shorter man’s hair is poking him in the eye and Pai can no longer tell his own heartbeat apart from Sky’s.

Pai allows himself another second of stillness as his body makes contact with Sky’s, finding solace in the knowledge that yes, his heart is still beating, his skin is warm, and his breath is a gentle breeze lapping at Pai’s neck.

He’s here, he’s okay.

It’ll be okay.

“Sky. My Sky. Sweetheart.” He struggles to find the right words to seal the cracks between them. “I’m – I – ” The telltale prick of unshed tears distorts his vision and chokes the words that are wedged in his throat.

Why is Pa crying? The imaginary question helps Pai snap out of it.

He can’t afford to cry, not here, not when Ben’s had a normal day.

“Thank you.” He settles on gratitude. “Thank you.” He repeats. Once, twice, five times as he balls his fists in the thin fabric of Sky’s t-shirt – his t-shirt.

What’s his is Sky’s, he’s never letting go. Never again.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

He says it until he’s out of breath and when the pressure in his chest reaches bursting point and renders him incapable of coherent speech, he compensates with kisses. To the top of Sky’s head, his forehead, his cheeks.

Maybe it's an illusion, conjured up by his imagination as a welcome respite after having been driven insane with worst-case scenarios, but he feels Sky relax against him. That familiar flame spreads across his arms as Sky’s fingers hover over his skin with the steadiness of a candle in the wind.

Relief floods his system at this near-invisible gesture of reciprocity.

Okay, it’ll be okay.

Emboldened and feeling more sure of himself than he has all day, Pai leans forward as his lips seek out Sky’s, desperate to convey what he can’t with his words which are doomed to sound hollow and inadequate. There’s so much he needs to say, so much he must explain,must make up for.

Something indiscernible flickers in Sky’s tired eyes as Pai’s lips brush against his.

Sky flinches.

He steps away from Pai.

“You should go.” He declares with a solemn finality that would be more suited at a funeral as he escapes into the jenga room, leaving Pai to deal with the policeman and the fear that he may have caused more harm than he imagined.

***