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When Sean enters the room, the gang is sitting around the makeshift table where a scribble ridden map keeps company to empty beer bottles and cold cigarettes butts. He takes a deep breath and focuses on his target, whose arm is lazily draped on the back of the couch behind Gram’s head, his perpetual frown disapproving whatever Yok was saying.
Heads turn as Sean, looking straight at Black, announces loudly: “He's here with me.”
Black's whole body visibly tenses, dark eyes narrowing dangerously on Sean. Everyone else looks at them and then at each other's in confusion.
“Who is with you?”
Black stands up, nostrils flaring in anger like a bull ready to charge at a red flag.
“Damn you, Sean.”
Sean glances at the other’s closing fists and raises a daring eyebrow. "I didn't force him to do anything. He made his choice. He wants to talk to you."
Black stares for a long few seconds and relents, crossing the room and shoving him out of the way with a shoulder. Sean clicks his tongue in annoyance but lets him go. He turns towards the others, meeting a variety of worried and curious stares.
He clears his throat.
“Guys. I have to tell you something.”
--
White is admiring the warm dusk sky when his brother emerges from the open doorway, the low tone of his voice immediately putting him on edge.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He squares his shoulders and turns, ready to face Black’s looming wrath. The other points an accusing finger at his face, already standing closer than comfortable.
“I told you to stay away!”
“I know. But I decided not to.”
“So what? You think I'm gonna let you risk your life more than you already did? You have no idea what you got yourself into.”
White’s temper rises, a burning wave of frustration and a raw anger flooding his chest. Black must notice because his scowl loosen and he leans back on his heels, startled.
As a kid, White got used to be underestimated. He was the quieter twin, more thoughtful, the complaisant one. Always passively accepting the way people treated him to avoid further conflict. Mama’s good boy, his Father’s son.
But Black never looked down on him. He was the one taking the lead to scout ahead and make sure the road was clear, the one taking the hits so White didn’t have to, the one always getting scolded in his place. It never was because he thought White was weaker or couldn’t defend himself if he wanted to, but simply because he didn’t want his brother to ever get hurt if he could take the pain instead.
I’m your big brother, White. It’s what I’m supposed to do.
As years went by, it became more difficult for Black to always be there. With his passive nature, White had quickly attracted bullies in high school, so the first time they caught him alone he had reacted the only way he knew: staying quiet, accepting the jibes, enduring the hits.
After that, Black had started to say stand up for yourself and fight back, trusting White with the promise to protect himself when his brother couldn’t do it for him.
The thought of Black looking down on him now makes something in his chest burns.
“Of course I do,” White starts behind gritted teeth. It’s his turn to stretch his back higher than he feels, cheeks heating up with anger. “Do you really think I'm that clueless? I was there during Tawi's house fire. I'm the one who took the warehouse's picture and used it to discredit him. Thousands of people followed us in protest after that. We almost got caught then, almost got killed the other night. I know exactly the consequences of our actions. I stood up for you, now I’m doing it for myself. So don’t fucking treat me like a child.”
White is panting by the time his breath runs out of him, closed fists shaking at his side. Black’s face has slacked more and more during his rambling, and it feels like his twin finally looks at him for the first time in ten years.
The moisture in Black’s eyes catches the light and White almost recoils at the unexpected sight of his brother’s unshed tears.
“White,” he says in a voice suddenly so similar to his own. “We're not kids anymore. I can't protect you from...” he gestures around, face twisting helplessly. “From this.”
“I can protect myself, and –”
“You don’t know what –”
“And we can protect each other. You're not alone in this, Black. You have friends, people willing to watch your back if you watch theirs. You just have to stop pushing them away and let them.”
Black huffs to the sky and rakes fingers through his hair, uncharacteristically agitated. White’s anger dissipates in a rush, leaving him hollowed out and swaying on his feet. He feels a pang of sadness at seeing his brother so distraught by the mere notion of letting people in. He wonders what happened in the last ten years to make him so aloof, despite the storm of emotions he can now feel raging inside of him.
Black’s last plea is weak, the fire from earlier barely a spark. “You can still go back.”
White smiles kindly, taking a step forward to catch his brother’s eyes. “And what? So I can keep leeching off dad's reputation? Cheating my way through life? Why can't you accept I don't want this life any more than you did?”
“You’re not me.”
White had always drifted blindly toward other’s people acceptation, but now the path ahead is clearer than ever. It’s a thrilling relief to have a purpose, to feel how right it sits deep in his bones.
“No, I’m not,” he says with finality. “But I guess we are more alike than you think.”
White has finally found his voice and he can see the moment Black understands the fight is pointless. His shoulders sag with it. Black blinks and seems to shake himself, rearranging his jacket roughly over his shoulders. A peacock ruffling his feathers.
“Fine. But don't come crying tomorrow about missing your ten thousand baht mattress.”
White’s face crumbles then, his throat clogging with pent-up emotions. He doesn’t let Black time to compose himself and lunges at his brother, wrapping his arms around him and holding tight. Black huffs and catches him on instinct, a hand shooting up to hold the back of his head protectively.
White squishes his face against Black’s neck, mindless of his glasses digging into his cheek.
“I missed you Black. I missed you so much.”
Black nudges his nose against his brother’s temple and takes a deep breath, blowing it out to dislodge a strand of White’s hair from his mouth.
"Missed you too, little bro.”
With a last squeeze White pulls back, drying his cheeks with his sleeve. Black pushes him slightly with a leer.
“Always crying.”
White pouts and points at his brother’s face. “You’re crying too!”
Black sniffs and shrugs, putting his hands in his pocket with a blank expression.
“It's allergies.”
White rolls his eyes, aggravated. “Oh really? Allergies to feelings?”
Black tuts. “Fuck off. Since when do you have attitude?”
“Since I pretended to be you, I guess.”
His brother’s eyes narrow dangerously. White barely has time to feel smug before Black dives and wraps an arm around his neck, cutting off his surprised yelp. He twists around and takes him in a choke hold, easily immobilizing White and vengefully starting to rub his hair with a closed fist.
“Ai Black!”
White squeals and tries to struggle free, too soft hands grabbing at pants and shirt fruitlessly. Training kicks in and he locks his arm back, launching an elbow toward his brother’s kidney but Black dodges it easily, a feral smile splitting his face in two.
“Ah! You finally grew some balls, little brother!”
A garble that sounds like fuck off comes out of White’s strangled throat before he hears his brother suddenly laughing in his ear.
The arm around his neck loosen but White stops struggling, allowing Black to feel this simple joy for a while longer.
--
“Holy shit it's true.”
All eyes turn on them as they enter the room side by side, White with his rumpled shirt and glasses askew, Black wearing his usual scowl slightly softer at the edge. He glares at each of their friends, lingering on Sean with disdain.
“Yeah. This is my twin brother. He’s with us now. Let’s move on.”
Black struts back to the beat-up couch and crashes there, jolting Gram from his stupor. Yok jumps from his seat next to Dan and creeps closer with a fascinated look, observing White’s face from every angles. White smiles openly, letting himself be scrutinized.
Yok pokes at White's dimples and he can practically feel Black's hackles rise behind them. “Hey, back off!”
Yok snorts. “Relax. I've never seen your face smile like that, it's weird. You look cute without the permanent scowl!”
“I fucking hate you,” Black spits.
“He doesn't,” White adds.
Right then, Gram stands up and leaves quietly. Black looks back, frowning. He seems to debate with himself for a few seconds before following him with a sigh. White still doesn’t understand their relationship, but figures it’s time for his brother to fix whatever unresolved feelings linger between them.
After Black disappears in the hall Sean comes forward, a shy crease on the corner of his lips.
“Also...”
He takes White's hand and threads their fingers together.
Yok hollers. “This is the best day of my life!”
He turns to Dan, pointing excitedly at them. “Do you see this?!”
Dan nods with an indulging smile, clearly out of his depth and high on painkillers but too infatuated to care. Gumpa stands up and puts a calming hand on Yok’s shoulder.
“Alright, I think everyone needs some rest.”
“It’s barely 8!”
“Your guy’s bandage needs changing.”
Yok’s high strung excitement completely melts in concern as he turns back to Dan, offering his hand. “Right, shit, come on.”
The older man goes willingly, grunting slightly as Yok hauls him up and they slowly make their way back to Dan’s private quarter.
Gumpa then turns to White, smiling in a knowing way.
“Welcome back, White. I think we already met.”
White’s eyes widens and he smiles, bowing in thanks. Gumpa nods and pats Sean’s shoulder as he leaves. Sean frowns. “What was that?”
White shrugs and takes Sean’s hand back in his own.
“Come on. Let’s get some rest.”
--
White grins when he enters the room Sean chose to sleep in. It’s a bare space like any other in the abandoned building, walls with chipped paint and a suspicious moldy scent lingering in the air. A window runs across the length of a wall, the city stretching on the left and the canal hugging a busy promenade on the right.
The sight is surprisingly lovely, but that’s not what makes White’s stomach flutters.
“You brought back the tent here?”
Sean clears his throat and leads him inside. “Yeah. I figured we're gonna stay here for a while, so might as well get comfortable. Besides, the other location has been compromised, so we can’t go back there now. ”
Memories of their short stay in the abandoned building near the warehouse flash in White’s mind. Sharing a meal around their makeshift fire, their laughs echoing in the empty floor. The lingering looks they shared like they were the only ones in the world, the way their fingers had touched almost accidentally and later intertwined. The warmth of Sean’s skin against his in the dark.
The weight in his pants pocket suddenly feels heavier, a reminder of the price they had to pay for such short moments of reprieve. He hooks his fingers inside, rolling the small object around in hesitation.
“Hey, you okay?”
He nods and joins Sean at the entrance of the tent, sitting close in the narrow space. He holds up the button between his fingers, presenting it to Sean.
“I found this on the roof earlier, before we met.”
Sean swallows, conflicting emotions dancing in his eyes. White wishes he could gather up all of Sean’s hurt and take it inside himself to atone for all the lies he had to tell, when Sean always offered nothing but honesty and trust. Reality was not that easy though, and they all had their own pain to carry.
Despite it all, White still hopes Sean will accept to lean on his shoulder to ease the burden.
“You can take it back. If you still want to.”
Sean frowns and suddenly snatches the button from his hand, cupping it protectively toward his chest.
“Of course I do,” he grunts and looks at White pointedly up and down. “It's mine.”
White lowers his head to hide a bashful smile, heat creeping up his face and ears. They sit in silence as Sean turns the button over, a small thoughtful smile playing on his lips. When White glances at him, he notices the shadow around his left eye hasn’t completely faded yet. He reaches out unconsciously, a finger brushing softly under Sean’s lid.
Sean turns his eyes on him, the vulnerable downturn of his eyebrow heartbreaking.
“I'm sorry for what my brother did to you,” White starts on a quivering whisper. “It was my fault and I –”
Sean’s hand closes gently around his wrist. “White.”
White startles at the sound of his name. Tears flood his vision instantly, the relief to be seen so intense he doesn’t know what to do with it. Sean cups his cheek, pressing his thumb against the corner of White’s mouth to drag his lips up on a smile.
“Stop being sorry. It doesn't matter anymore. You're here, it's all I need. Just... promise you won't disappear on me again.”
White shakes his head, a stray tear trailing along the bridge of his nose. “I won't. I promise.”
Sean slides his hand around his skull and leans in, pressing dry lips against White’s forehead. He holds his breath as Sean lingers there for a few seconds before pulling back, mouth curving on a fond smile.
He then pokes at his glasses curiously.
“Did I tell you how hot you look with those?”
White swallows and lowers his head, the bridge of the glasses sliding slightly over his nose. Sean stares, mouth slightly agape. White smirks, innocently nudging his cheek against the other’s warm palm.
“Hmmm... no, you did not.”
Sean’s fingers tentatively curve around White’s ear, his thumb brushing the bare skin in wonder. Goosebumps erupt over White’s arms as their eyes meet, vulnerability and worries melting in the need to be closer. He grabs Sean’s wrist and lowers his arm down, shifting on his knees swiftly to straddle the other man’s lap.
He rests his arms lazily around Sean’s shoulders, smiling down at the dumbstruck look on his face.
“But you have all night to do it.”