Work Text:
Porsche worked.
That’s what he had done all life.
Sometimes, it was for his brother.
Sometimes, it was for his uncle.
Sometimes, it was even for that one bastard who decided to settle in his heart and never fucking leave.
Seriously. The nerve of the guy.
Yes, Porsche worked. But it was almost never for himself. At least it never used to be.
But now, the person he worked for was himself. And his brother. Who he couldn’t leave alone.
Yeah.
He didn’t get why he was in this reminiscing mood at all. This wasn’t him. He wasn’t one to look back at what life had thrown at him and regret what he had done to fight back. He was someone who wore his scars where they were visible, like he had earned them.
Like they were badges of honor and not evidence of his weaknesses.
Porsche was a proud man. He prided himself in knowing that what he had gone through in life and had successfully accomplished was not easy to have. He knew that everything he had worked for and everything he had was because he deserved it.
Did he?
His freedom, sometimes, felt like a burden.
A heavy weight settled in his chest every time he thought of the man who had granted it to him.
The man who had the fucking audacity to enter his heart and somehow carve a place within it, without his permission, just like that.
Porsche was loath to admit it, but he knew that his freedom was something he had by the grace of that one person who gave it to him because, unknowingly, and quite scandalously if he says so himself, Porsche too, had made his mark on him.
But Porsche had never been one to look a gift horse in its mouth and had run as fast as he could from that world, dragging his brother away from it also. He ran like he had a tail on fire, like he would be followed as soon as he stopped, like he would go back to the man who let him go because he couldn’t resist him.
It’s been five years since then.
The taste of the kiss and the warmth of the hug still lingered within Porsche. It was within him, and try as he might, it never left.
Nothing worked. Warm bodies, men and women, drinking, nothing. It was like an infection, and was settled deep within his bones. His needs remains unsatisfied to this day, his wants never wavers and it never stops.
They stopped running when Chay grew tired.
He didn’t want to run.
He wanted to stay.
He wanted roots.
And Porsche has never lived for himself in his life.
By chance, or by choice, because never let it be said that his brother didn’t know him, they stopped running in a beach town.
A Zero-Waste village.
And Porsche fucking breathed.
It felt like a novelty, getting to breathe, and he took it as much as he could.
Chay had smiled prettily when he’d seen the look on Porsche’s face, and the relief Porsche had recognized on Chay’s face had been all the incentive Porsche needed to stop running.
But stopping didn’t mean they could settle.
No.
Porsche was twenty-three years old, while Chay was still eighteen.
Porsche knew how to fight, but how would he find use of that particular skill in this place? Chay hadn’t worked for money ever, what could he do to earn it in a village like this?
The answer came in the form of an old uncle that lived in the village. The one who had started this whole Zero-Waste thing there. He offered them rooms, smiling, and saying that it would be okay. He offered them jobs, odd jobs around the village. Fishing, babysitting, running errands, automobile repair, anything.
He never forced them to pay for the room they occupied, never forced them to pay for the food they ate with him, and never asked them why they were here.
Uncle Tong did more for them than their actual Uncle and Porsche was ever grateful to find some kindness in a world where he had experienced none.
And then another man, a friend of Uncle Tong, Uncle Yod, heard Chay sing and play the guitar he now carried everywhere and suddenly Porsche was in his natural habitat.
Behind a bar. Mixing drinks. Making people happy by getting them drunk.
His brother had been hired first, as a performer.
Chay performed weekends at the bar, spending his week at a local university Porsche had enrolled him in a town nearby, while Porsche was hired when he had made a drink from Yod’s restricted options of drinks that had managed to impress both him and Uncle Tong.
Now, at twenty-eight, Porsche paid rent for his and Chay’s separate rooms, was working nights at the bar, managing it, and afternoons around the village, working on various things and nothing all at once.
Life was good.
It didn’t matter that he couldn’t breathe sometimes because the air was too pure and he missed the cologne and the gunpowder mix that had once trailed him. It didn’t matter that he got a thrum in his blood at the sound of fireworks, sounds similar to gunshots, seeking the excitement that came from too far away, because fireworks were never allowed in a village like this.
It didn’t matter that sometimes he missed that lingering taste and the warmth and got these bouts of need for them.
Chay was happy.
He was happy.
He didn’t own a bar, but he ran one. He didn’t make all the drinks, but he made most of them. He didn’t always choose the Menu, but no one opposed it when he did end up choosing.
He was out of danger. His brother was out of danger. They were together. They were happy.
Was he?
Was the man who had made him happy, happy?
Before he could reminisce any further, he was interrupted by a guy at the bar, ordering two entirely different drinks, a Michelada and a Classic Daiquiri. A spicy cocktail and a sour one.
Porsche shrugged and got to work. He was paid to mix drinks, not judge when one person orders two contrasting drinks. He was just about done when another person, another guy joined the first one, and that made sense to Porsche.
He wasn’t one to people watch and guess their lives, because he almost always got them wrong, but something told Porsche that this wasn’t their first time here. Even though Porsche had never seen them before, they just radiated that energy.
He was proven right when the first guy asked, “Is Uncle Yod around?”
Porsche smiled his customer smile, and answered in negative, “No, but he’ll be here tomorrow.”
The guy smiled and nodded his head in thanks, before turning to the guy sitting beside him, his eyes turning soft and his posture relaxing, before he continued, “That means you won’t be able to sing tonight.”
Oh! Porsche thought. They had worked here.
Before he could say something however, the guy answered, “I wasn’t going to sing anyway, Pat.”
Now that he had a name to put on one of them, Pat leaned into the guy’s space and whined, “Khun Parakul? How could you do this? To your one and only?”
Parakul smirked as he took a sip, his eyebrows expressing his delight, and turned to put a finger on Pat’s head, pushing him back, “I can and I will. Uncle Yod isn’t here anyway. How could I just sing at someone’s bar without their permission?”
Pat perked up, “You can. We just need to find the manager. Pran, come on. It’s our fifth anniversary. How could you not sing to me?”
Pran raised a single eyebrow, “You’re saying this? You?”
Pat pouted, which looked ridiculous in the cutest way possible, and even Porsche couldn’t help but smile when a series of “Na Na Na!” left his mouth.
He watched as Pran melted right before his eyes, giving into his boyfriend? Husband? Partner?
Pran turned to him and asked, “Where can we find the manager?”
Porsche smiled his customer smile again, though it was mellowed down a bit, “You are speaking to him.”
Pat’s mouth widened in a grin before he asked, “Can Pran perform here tonight?”
Porsche knew he was going to say yes and the sight of them together tugged his heartstrings in a bittersweet way. He smiled before calling out Chay, since that was his department, and Chay came, bouncing towards his brother.
When Porsche explained the predicament to his brother, his brother smiled at them before asking, “Do you want my help? Tell me the song and I’ll help.”
Pran smiled, a cheek dimpling adorably, and answered, “You won’t know the song. I wrote it five years ago.”
And Pat interrupted him, “For me!”
And Pran tapped the back of his head, which made Pat rub his head and turn to Pran, exasperated, “What? You did.”
Pran shook his head, but just as he was about to leave, Pat stopped him by holding his wrist, pulling him back for a peck, and saying, “Can you say those words again? What you said that night?”
Pran’s eyes shimmered, from what Porsche didn’t know, but he nodded his head, before grabbing Pat’s head with his other hand, kissing his forehead in a move Pat didn’t expect.
When Chay took the seat Pran had abandoned, Pat turned to them, “Thanks again for this. This might not mean much to you, but it means so much to us.”
Chay smiled at Pat while Porsche contemplated his words.
Some things may not mean much to one person, but meant the world to the other. His freedom did not mean much to Kinn, but to Porsche, it was everything.
Before he could further delve into his thought process, having allowed himself to even think of that name, he was pulled out of it by Pran’s words.
He began, “Hello there, everyone. This is the first bar I ever performed in. May I please sing the song I wrote?”
He chuckled, his eyes lost in a memory, before continuing, “So no one will know if I sing it wrong.”
Pat smiled, so brightly, and Pran continued, “Is anyone here without friends? All my life, I was always told to not be friends with this one guy. But we all know that forbidden fruit is always sweeter.”
This time it was Pat that chuckled, before his smile dimmed, memories they didn’t know of running rampage between the pair.
Pran continued, “From two people who can’t be friends, without knowing it, we became two people who can’t be just friends. I wrote this song for him.”
And then, in a turn of events that was unexpected for both Porsche and Chay, Pran began singing, in a voice that was angelic. And Pat leaned back, his eyes never leaving Pran.
“If our love was a song
If our story was written out to sing along
What kind of song do you think our love would be?”
And Porsche wondered, was it too soon to delve back into thoughts of Kinn after the moment he had allowed himself just a few minutes ago. Because this song, this song made him think exactly what the song was asking. Just what kind of song would their story be? Would it even be a love song?
“Is love a beautiful world?
Something of grandeur
Is it a sky, a mountain, a sea, or other kind of splendor?”
And the thing was, their world was already grandeur. Their world was filled with grand things. But was it filled with love? Was love even a grand thing in that world? Between the skies, the mountains and the rivers, amongst places they had spent their last moments in, was all they shared was for survival? Or was there love?
“I've now realized what my love is about
I've now realized what my love is about
It's something small that I just can't live without
Just a love song that you need to listen to
Just lyrics that are nothing new
But you and I know the meaning between the lines.”
How did Pat and Pran have it figured out? How did they know what they had was love? How did they realize they were in love? Just what did they have figured out? How could they know words that were unspoken, between lines that meant too much, and too little at the same time?
But then Porsche had seen them, the words they said, the peck, the forehead kiss, the request, the melting, everything, and Porsche believed.
“There are no perfect sweet words
Just listen with your heart to find
The answer I've been searching for
Love is nothing else but you.”
Sweet words? He scoffed. But then he remembered how Kinn had said that he liked Porsche’s smile.
His heart? That confused little organ that was vital for his survival but wouldn’t let him live in peace? How could he listen to it for answers that his brain constantly rejected?
Was love nothing else but Kinn?
“I've now realized what my love is about
It's something small that
I just can't live without.”
And it was true wasn’t it? He wasn’t living. Yes, he was going through the motions, surviving, but was he living? Even if a little, he wanted more than what he had. He wanted more than he deserved.
Because he didn’t deserve Kinn. Not after leaving him so easily when he asked. Not after abandoning him, not knowing what followed after his rescue. Not after not being curious about how he managed to smooth things over after the kidnapping.
“Just a love song that you need to listen to
Just a love song that you need to listen to
Just lyrics that are nothing new
But you and I know the meaning between the lines
There are no perfect sweet words
Just listen with your heart to find
The answer I've been searching for
Love is nothing else but you.”
Love may be nothing else but Kinn, but everything that Pran sang wasn’t for him. Kinn had said the perfect sweet words to him, and he had left. He had never even tried to read between the lines spoken between them. He couldn’t turn to his heart to find his love, because his heart was convinced that he didn’t deserve it.
The applause at the end of the song brought him back, but Porsche was always lost.
Before Pran could leave the stage, Pat was there, smiling, in a way that was both loving, and mischievous.
Then he began speaking, “Pran Parakul Siridechawat. I’ve known you all my life. I’ve competed against you all my life, but I’ve also competed with you all my life. And you were right. I had an ulterior motive for bringing you here tonight. I wanted to bring you here tonight, because this may not be the place where we first kissed, but this is the place you decided to open yourself up to the thought of me. And this may not be the place where we agreed to be together, but this is the place where we agreed to fight to stay together. And this may not be the place where you sang for me for the first time, but this is the place where you sang something only for me. Also, this may not be the place I first confessed to you in public, and god knows it has become an obsession for you to make me confess to you in public, but this is the place where you confessed to me in public.”
Pat inhaled as an errant tear escaped his eyes, even as he exhaled in a breathless chuckle, he continued, “What I’m trying to say is, this place is special to me. So now, here, I would like to challenge you again. I would like to challenge you, to marry me, and compete against the world with me. We’ve fought against each other, and now, I want to fight against the world with you. So Pran. Marry me.”
Pran had tears in his eyes, but he was smiling. He was grinning.
And then, he punched Pat in his shoulder and said, “You dog! I thought you wanted to propose here because we had sex for the first time here.”
And Pat barked a laugh, and answered, “Well, that too. Ten on ten, would recommend.”
But then, instead of a ring, or getting down on one knee, Pat offered Pran a fist, to which Pran snorted, and bumped his against. And then they dissolved into mutual laughter, leaning in to kiss each other while grinning like idiots.
In love.
When they found their way back to the bar, Chay launched onto them, “P’, that was amazing. P’ Pran you sing so beautifully. And P’Pat, that was the best proposal ever. Even though I don’t understand how you proposed without rings, but that was wonderful.”
Pran chuckled, “He most likely didn’t buy a ring because he knew I already had them ordered.”
Pat raised his eyebrows, “Yes! Yes I did find them. You seriously need to upgrade from praninlove.”
Pran shoved him, but their hands remained intertwined.
When Chay turned to look at him, Porsche was aware that his smile could’ve been better. He could do better for two people in love than the brittle customer smile he held onto.
Pran interrupted his thought process, “I was looking at you when I was singing.”
Pat pouted before Pran could go any further, “And why were you looking at another handsome man while singing Our Song?”
Pran scolded, seriously, “You are asking me when you are calling him handsome? Have I become too boring for you?”
Pat’s eyes widened, turning to look at Porsche, and then back at Pran, “Never. You are the most handsome, most beautiful and most pretty. And you are marrying me. Me!”
Pran scoffed, but melted once again at the guy that hung onto him.
But he did look up again, asking, “What, or rather, who had you going all lost when I was singing?”
At that Pat turned his eyes on him too, and Chay’s ever present was nothing new. Porsche took a deep breath, planning to negate all inquiries and putting on his best customer smile when Pat interrupted him, “Don’t even think about it. Trust me, denial gets you nowhere. Ask him if you don’t believe me.”
Pran rolled his eyes affectionately at his fiancé, and answered, “I tried it. The first time the separation was forced, until we were right back in each other’s orbit. The second time, he followed me, orbiting around me until I gave up.”
Pat frowned, “I orbited around you?”
Pran smirked, “Who followed Architecture faculty, despite being in Engineering faculty, our rival, for Khun Pran?”
Pat sighed, and agreed, “I did. But only because you won’t talk to me. We kissed. I was scared too. But I was happy too. I was angry too. You sang our first song with Wai. But I was confused too. You didn’t make it any easier. You knew you had feelings for me. It was new for me.”
Pran sighed, patting Pat’s head, “I denied and ran away because I already had feelings. Which meant I had thought about it. Our parents, our friends, everything was heavy on my mind. Distance from you was the only thing that allowed me to think.”
But then Pat smirked, “So you agree I make you lose your mind?”
And the stroking of Pat’s head turned to another tap on his head, but this time Pat just smiled and kissed him. The rate at which Pran’s stern face melted was a thing of fascination for Porsche.
Chay cleared his throat, bringing them out of the reverie. Porsche had been glad that the focus had shifted from him, but now it was back on him.
He knew that was what Chay had wanted.
For five years, he hadn’t uttered a word about Kinn to Chay, but his brother knew that Porsche was heartbroken. It wasn’t particularly hard to guess. The drinking, the pursuit for meaningless sex, only for it to turn to failure, the sometimes empty look in his eyes.
It was almost too easy for Chay.
Anyone.
It was an open secret around the village, Porsche was heartbroken and it was everyone’s business.
Or everyone thought it was.
Porsche had stopped caring somewhere along the way.
And now, now these two men, who had a complicated history of their own if that marriage proposal was anything to go by, were asking questions everyone had stopped whispering behind his back a long time ago.
He smiled again, trying to divert them, succeeding too, if Pat’s excited launch of their own story at his question was anything to go by. He began, excitedly, like a golden retriever.
“It all started when this guy fell in love with me and wrote a song for me---”
Pran interrupted, “And it went over your head---”
Pat shushed him, continuing, “So, the song he wrote, for me, with me, he sang with another guy, and when he was on that stage, singing with another guy, while I was off-stage, about to ask the girl I liked out, and bam, acceptance. I was in love with him too.”
Pran sighed, “That easy? Huh?”
Pat shook his head sideways, “Never. We only had a childhood rivalry---”
Pran interrupted, “That was residual of our parent’s hate, which they fed onto us.”
Pat grinned, “Then we had our friends fighting because---”
Pran completed, “We were in rival faculties, engineering and architecture.”
Pat sighed, “Also, you ran away from me when I confessed---”
Pran scoffed, “You weren’t thinking. At all. If what we had got out---”
Pat interrupted, “It did get out. And we ran back here to get away from the fallout.”
Pran sighed, “And then the dating again in secret when we decided to fight against our parents anyway. I even left the country.”
Pat smiled, holding Pran’s hand, “It was the best for you.”
Pran tightened his hold, “You helped me get through everything.”
Pat shifted forward, “We helped each other get through everything.”
Pran smiled at the statement, and Pat brought up their joint hands only to place a gentle kiss on Pran’s knuckles.
But Porsche was elsewhere. He was listening to them, yes, but he was more curious about something else.
And he didn’t even realize that he had asked the question he had been thinking about out loud.
“Were you not tired of it all?” Porsche asked, eyes glazed over in reminiscence.
Pran and Pat both looked at Porsche, and Chay closed his eyes, just for a moment, because the look on his brother’s face, it was like a physical blow to him. Pran and Pat looked at Chay too, and knew that there was a story. A story they didn’t know.
But it was a love story.
And not a happy one.
Pran sighed, and answered, “We did. We did get tired. Every time our parents fought, every time Pat ended up feeling guilty for what happened between our parents, every time it broke my heart breaking my mother’s trust by continuing to date Pat, every time we looked at each other across the room, pretending we didn’t have anything between us, when it was everything we had, every time we had to let go of each other because someone could be watching, it hurt, and we were so tired. Tired of it all. Everything.”
Pat squeezed Pran’s hand, and then, looking into Porsche’s eyes, he continued, completing Pran’s sentences just as Pran had been completing his before, “But, when, at the end of the day, when we were together, when there was no one, nothing that could come between us, the tiredness went away. When Pran was tired, I was there for him. When I was tired, Pran was there for me. When we were both tired, exhausted to the bones, really, we were there for each other. And that, that was enough.”
Pat shifted his gaze to Pran, their eyes filled with love, he ended it, “It is more than enough.”
And Porsche, Porsche wanted that for himself.
Porsche wanted that for himself so much that it was unbelievable, how much his pulse raced in anticipation of having what they had. How fast his heart beat, at the thought of ending his words like them. How much his body vibrated, with need, of what he had denied himself for so long.
He wanted everything.
With Kinn.
This time, he was ready to fight for it, even if it was against Kinn.
Pran smiled at him. And Porsche smiled back, his real smile, not his customer one.
Yes, their stories were wildly different. Porsche’s world wasn't limited to harsh words and threats of separation, Porsche’s world was bullet wounds, and separation by death in it. But at the end of the day, it was whether they would stay to fight or not.
So, even if he deserved to stay by Kinn’s side or not, even if Kinn wanted him or not, he would fight.
He was ready to go back. To have what he wanted. To get what he desired.
What he hoped he still could have.
But first things first, he had a bar to run that night. Planning to go back would be tomorrow.
As night progressed, he sent Chay back to the stage, to do what he did there. He helped Pat and Pran to another couple of drinks and carried out what he did every night at the bar, leading the servers with drinks to the correct tables, cleaning countertops when the last drink of the night was served, getting into the little kitchen and getting to cleaning while Chay cleaned up outside.
The only thing different from the schedule was Pat and Pran, who were helping them, and they insisted on it. They asked, as they had worked there before, they could work there again.
Porsche wasn’t against extra set of hands, since he had to plan so much after closing up.
How would he ask for his resignation? How would he get rehired as Kinn’s bodyguard? Did everyone believe Kinn when he spun the tale of his death? If yes, how to tackle that problem? If not, why hadn’t anyone come looking for him? Now that he allowed himself to think about it, there were so many variables to account for, and he was way out of his depth.
It was his over-thinking that distracted him enough that he didn’t hear the sound of the chopper before it was too close to the beach in front of the bar. He found himself out of depth again. What was a chopper doing here at, he paused in thought to look at the clock, three am in the morning? In fact, how was a chopper even allowed being airborne this late at night.
He moved towards the front of the bar, joining his brother along with their special workers tonight, and watched as the chopper landed, the fans blowing the sand everywhere, and the noise unbearable.
As the chopper slowed down, so did the noise, and they could finally see the man coming towards them.
Porsche recognized him even from the distance between them.
Blonde hair, exaggerated jumpsuit in a color palette no one would even try to describe, and an air around him as though he was the only one that mattered, it could be no one else than Khun Tankhun.
While Pat and Pran looked on in confusion, and Chay’s look rendered more wild amusement than anything else, Porsche, Porsche fucking panicked.
He was found.
It didn’t matter that he wanted to go back, because he was found. Porsche took a deep fucking breath and Pran noticed, patting Pat on his arm.
However, before any of them could even take a step in Porsche’s direction, Khun was already hugging him, words leaving his mouth but indecipherable to Porsche, because he never would have thought Khun would react like this to finding him.
Porsche chuckled and hugged back, having missed the man that had become his reprise in a difficult time.
As he looked away from Khun’s head, there were two other figures in the endless night, walking down the path Khun had set towards them. One he didn’t know, and one he knew too well.
If Porsche thought he was panicking when he saw Khun, he couldn’t describe what happened to him when he saw him.
Kinn.
Just as he remembered him.
Pants that fit too well, shirt just a size smaller, unbuttoned halfway, hair windswept, and eyes, his eyes mirrored the very emotion Porsche felt.
He couldn’t believe this was happening.
As Khun let him go, Porsche saw Kinn realize just who Khun was hugging, and that stopped Kinn in his step too.
Porsche couldn’t take his eyes off of him.
He registered his surroundings, he knew Khun was talking to Pat and Pran.
He knew the third man to get off that chopper was talking to his brother beside him.
Just because he was in front of Kinn, did not mean Porsche had lost his situational awareness.
But for god’s sake, he couldn’t look anywhere but at him.
He couldn’t take his eyes off him.
He heard Khun’s words congratulating the pair beside him on their engagement, he heard Chay’s exclamation of Kim, and realized that this was the Wik his brother was gone over.
But he remained confused as to how they had been found. And his eyes never strayed from Kinn.
When Kinn started walking again, Porsche didn’t do anything.
When Kinn stood before him, Porsche remained stuck.
When Kinn asked Khun, “What are we doing here?”, Porsche said nothing.
His eyes finally turned to Khun when he answered Kinn, “I knew he was alive. I always knew. You are not that good a liar Kinn.”
Porsche was the one that asked, “How did you even find me?”
Khun smiled brightly then, and pointed to Pat and Pran, “Their proposal, is going viral. And you know how I live for drama.”
And Porsche did know, but that didn’t answer how Khun found him.
Khun continued, “I saw you, I asked the uploader where this place was. I dragged my brother here to show him he didn’t have me fooled.”
Just as Porsche was about to say something, Kinn said, his tone dangerous, “Now you know, and I have been proved a liar. Can we go back?”
Those words, like many Kinn had said before, hurt him more than he thought they would.
Of course Kinn didn’t want to meet him. How could he forget, Kinn had a parade of beautiful men at his feet. Porsche was nothing but a notch on his bedpost. Someone forgettable. Someone replaceable.
He scoffed.
Kinn’s eyes turned back to Porsche at it.
Kinn was interrupted before he could even speak by Khun asking, “You don’t fool me little brother. Don’t forget, I was the one that saw you after that kidnapping. You are saying, after all the trouble I went through to find him, you don’t even want to speak to him?”
Kinn answered, “Yes! What we spoke to each other the last time we talked was all I had to say to him. It’s over, and done with.”
And then he turned around, beginning to leave.
Porsche wouldn’t have it.
All those feelings he had repressed, all the love he felt, and all the thoughts that wouldn’t let him think about anything other than Kinn, all of those came out in the one way they had always interacted in.
Anger.
Porsche yelled, “Yes! Turn your back on me. It isn’t like I matter to you.”
Kinn paused, his shoulders stiff in the way Porsche knew indicated that Kinn was itching for a fight. Without turning back to look at Porsche, Kinn, in his smooth tone, the one he used before he pulled a gun in a fight, said, “You turned your back on me first.”
Porsche moved towards him, his steps loud in the silence, “But I came back.”
Kinn turned around to face him again, “Only to leave.”
Porsche inhaled, “Because you asked me to.”
Kinn scoffed, “You could’ve stayed.”
Porsche continued, “You could’ve asked.”
Kinn moved towards him this time, his steps deliberate, “You were suffocating. You were dying there. What happened between us was only one thing that was killing you. What I made you do, what my father made you do, all of it, all of it was killing you.”
Porsche moved again, “Well, you could’ve saved me.”
Kinn scoffed, spreading his arms around, “What do you think I did?”
When Porsche didn’t answer, Kinn moved again, his finger pointing, touching his bare chest, because Porsche was also never buttoning up his shirts, a choice he regretted at this moment, because one touch from him, and Porsche ignited.
But Kinn was angry, “I saved you. I let you go. I let everyone believe that you died so you could live your life the way you wanted to. You have a bar. You have your brother. You look happy. You are living your life. What else do you want?”
And Porsche couldn’t help but say, “Okay. I am living. What about you? Are you? Does the weight of the family ring feel any lighter? Do you feel happy when your crazy brother pulls the shit like he did today? Do you feel content when your other brother is out there living your dream? Are you living?”
Kinn took a deep breath, and answered, “I was never meant to live. Only survive.”
Porsche eagerly replied, “I am surviving too. Let me survive with you. Maybe we’ll learn to live.”
The look in Kinn’s eyes broke his heart, because he knew Kinn would refuse.
Porsche however was determined. He tried again, “Just now, just before you landed, I was thinking how I could get my old job as your bodyguard back. So I could be near you again. I was planning. I was ready to leave all this behind, for one fighting chance. One chance with you. And I don’t know what I would’ve done, but here you are, and I don’t have to think about it anymore.”
The apprehension on Kinn’s face was a hurdle for Porsche. But he knew he could get him to agree. He looked back at the audience they had, and suddenly, like a light bulb went on in his head, he asked, “Someone told me they ran to this place because life got too much for them. I’m asking you too, stay here. Stay here for a few days, be with me. They found their fighting chance here. I believe we’ll find it too.”
They were close enough, and Porsche could feel the warmth radiating off of Kinn’s body. The warmth he never forgot. The taste that still lingered. He moved even closer, chasing the things he’d missed too much.
Chasing the one he missed so much.
At the end it was Kinn who surrendered. It was Kinn who pulled Porsche towards himself by grabbing the nape of his neck, his fingers stroking the hair at the back of his head. It was Kinn who leaned his forehead against Porsche, breathing him in.
And Porsche, like that night a long time back in a night similar to this, cupped Kinn’s face and took over his lips in a kiss that would’ve been bruising if it was anyone else other than them. His hands moved, his tongue entered the other’s lips, and he pulled Kinn closer, crossing his arms behind Kinn in a grip that wouldn’t loosen.
In that one moment, all was good, and they, they just were. Together.