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Shin leans on the rough side of the small speedboat, the warmth of the day lingering on its metal surface even as the last traces of sunlight fade along the horizon. He tries to focus on the faint spray of saltwater on his skin—anything to distract himself from the roar of the motor and the uneven thudding of the boat as it cuts across the darkening waters of the gulf. He’s spent enough evenings like this by now that he’s no longer hit by the same seasickness he felt that first time, but he still finds the movement decidedly uncomfortable.
He thinks of the people waiting for him at the other end of this journey, and wishes selfishly that they could be here now. He wants Miw to ruffle his hair and tease him about his spoiled childhood, Neo to take his hand and give him one of those long, slow smiles.
Shin checks his watch. 7:08pm.
The coast of the island is coming into view, the gray-black smudge on the horizon gradually sharpening into the silhouettes of palm trees and fishing docks. Pinpricks of light flicker in and out where small homes nestle beyond the beach, past the treeline.
No matter how many times he makes this trip, he still gets that familiar twist of nerves in his stomach as the boat closes in. As he realizes how little space remains between him and the people he cares for most in the world.
He still struggles on occasion to understand just how he’s managed to make the two of them care for him in return. Shin. The failed artist, the incompetent former son of a mob boss who’s throwing his fortune away. The same old insecurities flicker in the back of his mind at that, as they always do after a long week of work. Neo and Miw have a life here together when he’s back in Bangkok—a normal life, where they’re a normal couple who runs a normal business. In his worst moments, he still wonders when they’ll decide they don’t need him any longer.
Shin shakes his head and tightens his grip on the side of the boat. It’s gotten easier over the past year to quell his more anxious thoughts, but they never quite fully disappear.
Turns out it isn’t easy to convince yourself you deserve a relationship when you’ve spent your life being told you’re not cut out for one.
——
Everything had happened so fast when he was getting to know Neo and Miw. They’d spent so long running for their lives that he rarely had time to sift through the complicated feelings that had been building between the three of them.
Shin's known since he was a teenager that his attractions draw him to men. But knowing he was gay didn’t make the idea of pursuing relationships any easier. The only time he’d been brave enough to download a dating app, his hands had shaken so much he could barely type out a message. Panic had risen in his chest when each conversation inevitably approached the possibility of dates, or worse, hookups.
He’d deleted the app the next day.
The idea of sex had always sparked a nervous, uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He’d never really understood why it seemed like such a big deal for other people—for the characters in TV shows he watched, or for his school friends who seemed to talk about nothing else. So he learned to laugh at the right jokes, to nod and drop enough vague hints that no one would realize he was different.
That night his friends had dragged him to the strip club, he’d wanted nothing more than to run. At the sight of the neon lights, he’d weighed his options, wondering if it was too late to mutter something about a headache and get in the first taxi he could flag down. He’d used up too many of those excuses already, though, so he followed them inside.
Shin could understand, aesthetically, that the women on the stage were beautiful. And he didn’t fault them in any way for the work they did, but he still ducked his head to avoid their winks and inviting gestures.
His friends wouldn’t let him go so easily, though.
“You’re already here, how can you say no?” James had elbowed him, his eyes following the dancers on the stage. “Come on, what kind of girls do you like?”
A cold sweat started to gather under Shin’s arms. He felt like he was going to be sick. He’d glanced around frantically, looking for…something.
That was when his eyes had caught on Miw, on her casual outfit and bored expression, scrolling through something on her phone off to one side of the bar. Something about her felt…safe.
That first meeting had been so different from the one he’d had with Neo—the dim lights and loud music of the bachelorette party, Shin’s body feeling light and warm after several glasses of champagne. He’d stopped paying attention to the women, had felt his eyes following Neo like a compass that couldn’t help but look north. Watching Neo dance had sparked something new in Shin—he’d been drawn to the lines of the other man’s body, had appreciated the fluidity of his movements.
He still didn’t want to do what the squealing guests of the bachelorette party wanted to do with Neo, he knew, but he wanted…something.
He’d never expected that they would both want him in return.
The kiss had taken him by surprise.
His first kiss with Miw in the room over the bar had been awkward and uncomfortable, like the handful of near kisses he’d had with boys and girls over the years. So when Miw had leaned in at the water’s edge, her eyes flickering to his lips, his stomach had twisted again in anticipation of the discomfort he’d come to associate with attempts at intimacy.
Miw’s arms had been gentle but firm around his neck, holding him close as her soft lips brushed his. She smelled of saltwater and the hotel’s generic scented shampoo. The high had mostly faded by then, but in her arms he’d felt both lighter and more grounded. It felt…nice, surprisingly. Still a bit strange, but not unpleasant. She’d pulled back after a moment, giving Shin space but leaving her arms draped over his shoulders. Her fingertips skimmed the edges of his collar.
Miw could be so tough, so angry at times that he’d assumed at the start of their disastrous road trip she didn’t want him around. It felt like a privilege to stand so close to her now. To rest his hand at her side, feel the thin, damp fabric of her shirt, and see the softened look in her eyes.
And then Neo had tugged him closer. The steady hand at Shin’s back turned him to face the other boy, and a second set of lips had pressed against his. Shin leaned closer involuntarily, nearly losing his balance in the surf and anchoring himself with an arm around Neo’s waist. His frame was tall and solid, where Miw’s was short and slender, and he almost felt drunk again at the closeness of them both, at the heat of their bodies beside him and the cool water at his feet and the brush of Neo’s tongue along his lower lip.
He’d wondered what it would be like to kiss Neo again. Neo, who always had a smile for everyone and a plan to get them back to safety. It felt almost surreal to have his attention focused solely on Shin in this moment, to feel his hand as it cupped Shin’s jaw and tipped his head back.
Shin had leaned back into the other boy’s chest and watched as Neo and Miw turned their attention to each other. Their kiss was different from the ones they’d shared with him—faster and harder, a clear precursor to something more.
A pang had gone through Shin’s heart for a moment, even as their free hands still held tight to him. He knew there were things he couldn’t do, couldn’t feel the same way they did. The same bitterness that he’d felt watching them at the campsite began to needle its way back into his chest. He’d swallowed and tried not to think about how soon they might tire of him when they understood what he couldn’t give, when they would find him lacking and leave him behind like all the others had before.
But they hadn’t.
They hadn’t been disappointed with him when he’d told them back in the room that he didn’t want to do more than kissing—Neo had smiled against his mouth, and Miw had traced her fingers down his bare arm in a way that made him shiver.
Shin thinks that was the moment he realized he loved them, when the enormity of the situation he’d found himself in finally sunk in. He wanted nothing more than to block out the world beyond that room, beyond that bed, to spend as long as he could in the arms of the people he hoped might love him back.
——
The year that’s passed since has been strange, in a good way.
Shin’s spent his weeks sifting through the remains of his father’s empire in Bangkok, selling his old businesses and using the profits to pay off as many of Thana’s employees as he can track down. It’s a delicate process. A transition that has to be handled carefully so as not to piss off either his dad’s rivals or allies. As many weekends as Shin can manage, though, he slips away from the stifling atmosphere of the city, from the silence of the apartment where he lives, alone.
He drives down along the coast of the mainland, pays a local fisherman to pick him up and grits his teeth through the hour-long ride that ferries him back to the place he’s come to think of as his true home.
Shin has never been in a relationship before. He hadn’t honestly ever thought he would be, once he was old enough to understand the parts of him that made him different. There had been a few people over the years who had made him curious, sure, but he’d never thought another person—let alone two—would be willing to take him if they knew everything.
There hadn’t really been time to talk to Miw and Neo about it, between all the running and the kidnappings and the threat of imminent death hanging over their heads. That conversation had come some weeks later on his first trip back to the beach resort, when Shin had finally worked up the nerve and braced himself for their disappointment.
The words had come out haltingly, awkwardly. They were parts of himself he’d never tried to lay bare in such a way before, after all. He still winced thinking about how he’d cried, then, when Neo and Miw had held his hands, asked gentle questions, and pressed warm kisses to his hands and forehead. They didn’t understand all of it fully, but they understood him.
He’s learned a lot about what he wants and what he can do this year. He doesn’t mind kissing, or even sex sometimes, it turns out. He doesn’t particularly need it, either, but he can appreciate the feeling of closeness that it brings, the intimacy of his partners' skin against his own, their breaths mingling in the air between them. Nothing about him has changed at the core—he still doesn’t want or feel in quite the same way as either of his partners. But he loves them. And he’s enough.
Surprisingly, it turns out quite a lot of being in a relationship has little to do with sex or romance. It’s about companionship, and small acts of understanding. It’s letting Miw vent about how one of the new cooks they hired has been getting on her nerves, or running his fingers through her soft curls as they sit on the beach together at sunset. It’s folding Neo’s laundry for him when he’s tired from fixing leaks in the roof, or bringing him breakfast when he oversleeps before his shift. It’s soft glances and holding hands, knowing and being known.
It’s the way his heart beats faster now as he looks up to see the colored lanterns of the hotel, and the faint silhouettes of two people at the end of the dock, waiting to welcome him home.