Chapter Text
It's almost too easy to spot him.
This isn't to say that the man does a bad job at blending in – he's got an alluring face, a bright personality, and Chat is certain that those eyes of his have gotten him out of trouble plenty of times before, in the world beyond these heavy wood doors.
Unfortunately, he has one huge flaw.
Man Suang is built on beautiful lies, grandeur, and deception. It thrives on illusions and secrets. Walking through its doors is no different from stepping onto a stage – everyone here is an actor, each with their own roles to assume.
After years of living alongside people with silver tongues, sincerity has become a rare commodity that Chat can identify in a heartbeat.
This newcomer is naive to a fault – too trusting of strangers with kind faces, while his own expression can be read like an open book.
Chat gives him two weeks, at most.
Authenticity has no place here.
Chat wonders if the crown prince's advisors were so pressed for reliable spies that they went and hired the first willing fool they could find. He's curious to hear what sweet lies they'd fed this man who all but wore his heart on his sleeve just to get him to throw his life away unknowingly.
It's certainly unfair.
Chat almost feels bad for him.
But years of blood and sweat had gone into this plan, and there's no backing out now. They're so close to actual change. Chat isn't going to let some pitiful fool get in the way of that – no matter how pretty the face.
He slips into his own role with ease.
Chat, a veteran member of Man Suang's very own piphat tasked with playing the taphon and a commoner who grew up in this city, approaches the newest actor to join this unforgiving stage.
"I'm Khem. What's your name?"
"I'm Chat."
"You bastard," Khem scowls after Chat decides to give some unsolicited advice on his dancing. "Who asked for your opinion, huh?"
"Your teacher used to be the dancer in the royal court of the former reign," Chat continues, encouraged by the way Khem was now scrunching his nose at him in annoyance. "After seeing you dance today, it's a blessing from god that she didn't have a heart attack."
"Mind your fucking business," Khem bristles.
"Your fuck ups can affect the whole play," Chat fires back. "You are my fucking business."
This is possibly one of the very few times that Khem is being presented with the absolute truth, and he doesn't even know it – has absolutely no idea how much stake Chat actually has in Man Suang.
Khem opens his mouth to argue but Chat cuts him off before he can even speak.
"Now listen and let me make you an offer you can't refuse."
Every night after that, as the moon rises high in the sky and lanterns around the property grow dim, Chat plays his taphon. His hands move on their own – a familiar set of motions that's been ingrained in him after years of training.
He could do this with his eyes closed, but he doesn't.
Instead, he keeps them trained on the lithe figure before him as Khem dances, tense but determined.
It's a dangerous habit to learn, though Chat doesn't realize it until much later.
Within two months, Khem will be able to turn all that tension inside him into grace. He'll be able to hold himself with the special kind of confidence that all lead actors were born with, the type that captures the audience's attention and doesn't let it go until they walk off the stage.
Within two months, Khem will ascend Man Suang's ranks and be named lead actor – the fastest one to accomplish such a thing in decades.
Within two months, Chat will see Khem – sometimes his body, but always, always his face – everywhere.
Chat will think of Khem when he isn't there.
He will close his eyes, late at night, and let his mind wander to a place far from Man Suang, and Khem will be there.
A home within a sanctuary.
"I want to be like this kite," Khem chirps from where he's perched on the large branch of a tree. He'd roped Chat into kite flying today. Chat has a hunch that it's partly because he wants to talk, wants to discuss things without having to whisper words beneath their breaths like they do at Man Suang. "I want to fly as high as I possibly can – to soar without getting tied down."
Khem has got a smile that can rival the sun when he says it and Chat can't help but think about how even the commanding lead actor with his effortless grace and alluring, painted face on Man Suang's stage cannot rival the way Khem looks when he's off of it.
Smiling wide and careless, uninhibited by the suffocating rules of society.
Chat swallows before looking down, shifting his focus to the way the string of Khem's kite seems to want to slip between his fingers.
"You'll be a lost kite, then," Chat laughs, good natured though he finds nothing funny about the thought. It actually bothers him more than he'd like to admit. "And a ruined one, soon enough. So fragile without anyone to look after you."
"Who are you calling fragile, you bastard?" Khem scowls at him. "I'd fight you if they wouldn't punish me for ruining my hands afterwards."
A month or two ago, Chat would have taken the threat seriously – would have grit his teeth in the face of the insolent little street rat who fancied himself smart enough to sneak past Man Suang's doors and try to ruin everything Chat has worked for.
Now, though, it just puts a smile on his face.
Much like everything else Khem does.
"Really?" Chat replies with a raised brow, completely amused. He crosses his arms at his chest, the smug expression on his face growing into a full-blown smirk when he sees the way Khem's gaze lingers. First on his forearms, then on his chest. "You think you'd win?
Chat tugs at the tail of the kite.
It makes Khem look down before his grin grows wider and his legs begin to swing from where they're dangling off the tree branch.
"This is stupid. I wasn't even talking about actually being a kite," Khem rolls his eyes as he changes the subject. He tries to make a big deal out of looking annoyed but the way the corners of his lips quirk up in amusement ultimately give him away. "You missed my point completely, you dumb bastard."
"Tell me, then," Chat prompts, knowing just how fond he sounds but unable to do anything about it. "What do you mean?"
Khem breathes in deep.
"I want to be free. I just. I want to be," Khem trails off, eyes full of wonder as he stares at the vast sky above them. Eventually, he manages to direct his gaze back to Chat.
"You want to be?" Chat prompts, something in his chest stirring. Wanting to know if there's something he can do for Khem.
Khem smiles wryly.
When he speaks, it feels like a confession.
"Happy."
"Fair enough," Chat nods. The forest is their silent witness. "That's what I want, too."
If not for himself, then at least for Khem.
The steel of the gun feels cold and heavy in his hands – a far cry from the delicate material of the kite he'd been holding onto all afternoon.
"I need your help."
"Why me?"
"Because," Khem explains. It's been months but his eyes are as open as the day he'd first arrived. "You're the only one I trust."
Wan is dead.
Wan is dead and Khem knows who he is.
"You need to wake up from whatever dream you've deluded yourself into."
That's his brother's voice, loud enough to echo in the room.
Loud enough to be heard despite the harsh sobs tearing through Chat's chest, making his body tremble and ache.
Khem knows who he is.
"Find the edict and bring it to me before the month ends," his brother's voice is much softer now. A simmering rage that Chat is not used to hearing. "Or I will have him kicked out of Man Suang."
"He doesn't know any better–"
*He's still a spy!" his brother hisses. "I need you to use your head, Chatra. Think. Remember how hard we've been working. He's a distraction and we don't know where his loyalties will lie in the end."
"Maybe if we tell him–"
"If you say anything to him, I will kill him myself. I promise you that."
His brother leaves, taking any semblance of warmth with him.
Chat curls in on himself and cries.
"You bastard."
Chat had always thought of that word as a compliment. It's a fact, indicative of his status and his resilience. He is a bastard – an illegitimate child of the king with one of his most cunning concubines.
Khem takes that word and changes it like he's changed every other meaningful thing in Chat's life. There's venom in his voice and wrath in his eyes as he shatters everything Chat has known to pieces.
Breaks the mirrors and makes the smoke dissipate until Chat is left with nothing but the truth.
Liar.
Traitor.
The truth has never broken Chat like this before.
Chat makes his choice.
He needs to make things right.
The doors to Man Suang close for one last time.
They're running late to the damn event that would give him additional visibility as the new head of the Theerapanyakul clan.
That's why Kinn finds himself holding his breath when the doors to the main building finally open.
No other reason.
It would be unacceptable for Kinn to be late just because the new bodyguard took his damn time getting into the ridiculously well-fitting suit Kinn's tailor had prepared for him.
Luckily, the new bodyguard saves Kinn from self-sabotage by faceplanting onto the marble tile.
Kinn bites back a smile.
There's definitely no other reason.
"Leave," Kinn exhales as he offers the knife to Porsche, who looks baffled by the sudden offer.
"Huh?"
"I'll tell everyone you died in the woods so you can go back to your brother," Kinn explains, every word falling from his lips with difficulty. "Get to open a bar. Just like you've always dreamed of."
"Why?" Porsche whispers. He looks uncertain yet hopeful all at once. It makes Kinn want to take it all back, to keep Porsche by his side for as long as he can.
But he knows what he needs to do.
He needs to make things right.
"I don't know," Kinn admits as he gazes at Porsche, trying to commit this exact moment to memory. It stings but they rarely get to be themselves and he'd like to cherish every last second of it.
"Maybe you'd sacrifice a hand for me. Maybe it's because I've crossed the line with you. Or… Maybe it's because I like seeing you happy."
Their lips meet and Kinn decides then and there that this is their first real kiss.
Whatever this beautiful, fleeting thing between them is -- it's real. No matter what happens.
The forest is their silent witness.
"I'm not on the main family's side and I'm not on the minor family's side. I'm on your side."
"Do you believe in destiny?"
They're in bed and Kinn inhales deeply as he noses at the bruises blooming on Porsche's neck, tongue slipping out to taste the sweat on his collarbone. Their hands are intertwined, resting on Porsche's stomach.
"Oho! Are you going to throw some cheesy line at me?" Porsche giggles. "Go on then. If I like it, I'll let you–"
"Answer the question." Kinn rolls his eyes as he cuts Porsche off with a kiss on the lips.
Porsche squints at him slightly, though his lips quirk in amusement.
"Why? Do you feel like we were meant to meet?"
"You don't?" Kinn shoots back.
Porsche sighs. He snuggles into Kinn's chest like he's belonged there for lifetimes before this one.
"Thoughts like that don't cross my mind but…"
"But?"
"But sometimes I look at you and it feels," Porsche pauses. He blinks up at Kinn with wonder in his bright eyes.
"It feels?"
"It feels like I can only be free if you're by my side."
A matching pair of rings sit atop the bedside table.