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Kim’s downfall begins with a knock.

A knock is not an innocent thing. Innocent knocks are for people who don’t come from a family drenched in blood and violence. His family’s bodyguards are warned to stay away from his retreat, the sea of black clothed bodies firmly strangled into a trickle, all two of whom know to only ring his doorbell once and only when he or his father demand their presence. His friends from university, all of whom absolutely have a range of knocks they gleefully use to annoy him, from Dim’s double fisted pounding to Boon’s playful codes, still can’t enter the building without him granting permission to security to let them up. The only thing keeping Kim from ducking into his reinforced room and barring the door is that the people who keep him away from his family aren’t the sort to knock.

The knocking returns, this time in weird, staccato beats that Kim suspects should be a rhythm. He stares dumbly at his door before cautiously reaching out and clicking the intercom on. He’d hoped that the person’s obnoxious drumming would hide the move, but there’s a quiet murmur on the other end that has Kim automatically reaching for the gun hidden under his seat.

“KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIM,” screams a loud, whiny, impossible voice, “OPEN THE DOOR FOR YOUR FAVOURITE BROTHER.”

Kim stares at the intercom, debating the possibility that he’s temporarily gone insane. But Khun’s whining continues along with the pounding, echoing over the intercom and through the room, irritating enough that Kim shuts it off and unlocks the door. And maybe he has gone insane, because that means that Khun’s now crashing through his door in a riot of vibrant colours, flashy gold jewellery, and noise.

“HELLO, LITTLE BROTHER.”

It takes Kim a minute to realise he’s just standing there, mouth dropped like an idiot, as his oldest brother and three bodyguards invade his apartment. He tries to summon up enough of himself to say hello or do something, anything less stupid, but just…can’t. Khun never leaves the family complex, not even once in Kim’s memories. Kim only ever sees Khun during his (very) rare visits home—and Khun always knows when he visits, even when Kim doesn’t call ahead, and always happens to be somewhere Kim inevitably passes by so he can pretend to be surprised and say hello, in his own special kind of way—and they certainly aren’t the sort of family to do something as pedestrian as check in on each other. At least, not in person.

Khun is somehow more loud and ostentatious outside their family’s compound—which is a feat, given Khun’s extensive and never ending parade of bright pink dressing gowns—but what truly catches Kim’s eye is how…odd Khun’s acting. He seems alright as he flounces around Kim’s apartment with drama and gusto, but he’s…jittery. He’s hiding behind a pair of star-shaped sunglasses, but Kim can still see the way Khun’s wide eyes won’t settle on anything and he’s only giving banal compliments on Kim’s decor instead of needling him with his typical too-knowing questions. Kim frowns—Khun’s not a sobbing mess and his bodyguards seem unconcerned, but. A visit? To him?

Kim squints at the four invaders suspiciously. “Did something happen at home?” His eyes flit to his portrait and the board hiding behind it, gut twisting uncomfortably tight. “Is Kinn alright?”

But Khun just cocks his head like a baby bird. “Of course. Why would you think anything’s wrong?”

Kim stares at him for a moment before turning his deadpan gaze on the bodyguards. Arm and Pol fidget uncomfortably, but Pete smiles back at him with his usual placid cheer.

“Khun Nu’s been going out recently.”

Kim’s eyebrows fly up his forehead before he can stop himself. He turns back to his brother, who looks a funny combination of proud, thrilled, and terrified.

“Porsche took me out,” Khun says brightly. Kim’s eyes tighten around their edges, just a little. Big certainly never informed him of that. He’d been confidant the man’s jealousy would push him to tell Kim all the gossip and frustrations surrounding Porsche, but apparently Big’s only focused on the developments surrounding Kinn. It makes him worry what else Big might not have told him, but that’s a concern for when Kim doesn’t have to worry about unexpected house guests.

“You’re leaving the compound now?”

“Mhmm!” Khun looks proud. It does funny things to Kim’s stomach. “I’ve been to Yok’s bar and…” Khun pauses, one finger raised, before he shakes it off with a large smile, “And it was really fun! All six times! But it’s not open this early in the day, so I thought, ‘why not visit my littlest brother’ to mix things up.”

“Really?”

Khun nods eagerly. “Mm!”

They stand there, awkwardly staring at each other like idiots, both of them waiting for the other to make a move as the silence stretches and strains between them. Kim’s relationship with Khun has always been distant. Age differences aside, they just…clash, on every level. Khun likes dramas and shopping, Kim likes music and reading. Khun announces himself to the world unapologetically, Kim tucks and hides himself away. Khun pretends their family is anything but what it is while he clings to the safety of their manor, Kim can’t see it for anything but its truth as he runs away as fast as he can.

“…Ah,” Kim stalls, failing to think of anything to break the tension. He doesn’t know what to say to Khun—he never does, he always relies on Khun bulldozing the conversation forward in his typical loudly manner—but Khun’s not his usual self, too nervous and scared to do more than silently stare around Kim’s apartment with wide eyes. A ringer sounds loudly instead, its pleasant song turning shrill in Kim’s growing discomfort.

Khun brightens. “I’ll get it!”

Kim blinks dumbly as his brother skips past him to his balcony. “But that’s my ri—wait!” he yelps and lunges after Khun.

Khun picks up Kim’s phone and answers with a loud and cheerful, “Hellooooooooooooo!”

Kim gets his hands on his brother just as Khun begins to say, “This is Kim’s—” and he slaps his hand over Khun’s mouth and wrestles back his phone. Khun mightily protests the headlock, pointing elbows flying into his ribs and a wet tongue licking his palm. Kim grimaces—who, exactly, is the younger sibling here?—and clings on tighter.

“Uhh,” comes Chay’s tinny voice over his phone, “P’Kim?”

Kim closes his eyes and bites back the swear on the tip of his tongue. Heart hammering, he digs his fingers into Khun’s cheek, his brother’s protests growing louder.

“Maybe I have the wrong number…” Chay mumbles, and Kim presses his lips together to hold back his snort. They’ve been meeting up for tutoring for several weeks now and texting in between—how would Chay suddenly have the wrong number? Ridiculous.

(A voice in the back of his mind, one that sounds rather like his father, reminds him that it will one day be reality, after he gets the information he needs from Chay. Kim shoves the thought away with vengeance.)

“Hi Chay,” he says, and Chay audibly sighs in relief. Ridiculous.

“Hi P’Kim!” Chay chirps cheerfully. Then he gets nosy. “Who was that just now?”

“Ah…” Kim’s eyes dart down to Khun, who’s mostly stopped struggling and is instead glaring up at him accusingly. Kim doesn’t even want to consider the ridiculous image they must make right now. “My brother dropped in for a visit. He answered my phone.”

Khun chooses that moment to twist out of Kim’s hold in a self-defence move even he doesn’t recogonise, and yells, “HELLO!”

“Phi!” Kim snaps, kicking his leg up to kick Khun away. Except if he boots Khun from his balcony, Khun will snoop, and who knows what sort of alarming things he might uncover before Kim can end his call.

Kim hesitates, foot stuck mid-air like an idiot. It’s bad enough Khun’s guards are shifting restlessly by his door—Kim shoots them a chilling glare, and they snap back to sightlessly staring at his blank hallway wall—but Khun will definitely sweep the three of them up into his snooping if Kim lets him loose with all his unsatisfied curiosity. Khun seizes on his indecision and wiggles around Kim’s frozen leg so he can press close to Kim’s side. He shamelessly beams at Kim as he cocks his ear to listen in on his call, and Kim slowly lowers his leg in resignation.

Great. Now he’s crowded in by two nosy guys.

“…Brother,” Chay mumbles, voice soft with shock. Khun gives Kim a pointed look. Kim turns away, only for Khun to grab the free side of Kim’s head and drag him back to where he can hear the phone again.

Kim lets out a small oof at the rough treatment and Chay’s mumbles stop. “What’s up, Chay?” he asks quickly, cutting off any questions Chay might ask about Khun.

“Oh! I was just calling to let you know I was running late, but do you need to cancel today’s session if your brother’s visiting?”

Ah.

Right.

Kim had completely forgotten that he’d been planning to go meet Chay at his rehearsal studio before Khun dropped by.

Fuck.

“Sessions?” Khun asks.

Kim elbows him away, but Khun’s slippery like a fish and stickier than glue, and he returns to his prime eavesdropping position all too easily. Chay just rolls with the interruptions—Kim can’t tell if he’s relieved or annoyed by that.

“Mhmm! P’Kim’s tutoring me in guitar!”

“Really?” Khun gasps, so surprised Kim’s offended.

Kim’s worked hard for his university reputation! He—as Wik especially—is the epitomy of a kind university senior! He bullies the family’s bodyguards, not his juniors!

Besides, even if he weren’t such a nice upperclassman, Kim thinks Chay still would’ve figured out how to squeeze out tutor sessions from him one way or another, the crafty little devil. Chay’s actually not bad at composing, and he’s certainly playing well enough already to get into Kim’s faculty. Most of his mistakes are the types of bad habits self-taught learners pick up—not necessarily bad things now, just poor techniques that are either more flash than substance or more likely lead to complications as the user advances—and anyways, first year classes are usually devoted to undoing any bad habits students have picked up from past tutors or youtube videos. But, somehow, Chay’s sniffed out that Kim’s been taught by the finest music tutors money can buy since he was little, and he’s been steadily wheedling out every tip, trick, and technique Kim’s ever learned since. Kim doesn’t even catch that he’s doing it half the time until after he gets back home and realises he’s spent more time actually tutoring Chay than making progress on the careful investigations he has planned.

Kim even accused Chay of being a wicked little extortionist during one of their lessons the other week, and the little shit just turned to him with the biggest innocent eyes and insisted he wouldn’t dare to impose on his senior’s undoubtedly valuable time in such a way, but then the next thing Kim knew, he was agreeing to bring one of his prettier electric guitars he favours for his cover videos to their next tutoring session for Chay to try out. He wants to study him—Kim feels like he could learn a lot from Chay, if he could just figure out how the fuck Chay does it.

“It’s okay if today doesn’t work for you,” Chay’s saying, “We can always reschedule! You’re already doing me such a favour, I don’t want to interrupt your visit with your brother.”

“Owh,” Khun whines, brow knitting together, “You should just come here! I was the one that didn’t call ahead, I don’t want to interfere with my little brother’s commitments.”

Kim immediately opens his mouth to protest Khun inviting people to his apartment, but pauses. Sets aside his initial resistance to consider the idea.

Because Khun’s smart. As much as it shames Kim to admit it, Chay’s playing him better than the guitar. It’s like the minute Kim’s in Chay’s vicinity, he forgets all sense and falls too easily into the relaxed camaraderie that naturally comes with Chay’s presence.

Which makes it all the more critical for Kim to wrap up his investigation, and to do it quickly. Because there’s definitely something up with Chay and his brother. It’s staring Kim right in the face—he can see its shadow but not its shape, and it pulls and tugs at the threads but comes no closer to properly unravelling its mystery. Kim needs to figure it out, soon, or else he’s still going to be chasing leads when the steel traps spring over Kinn.

Kim needs to be careful—he’s still marvelling at the novelty of Khun leaving their family’s compound, he can’t be the one to send his brother running back to the comforts of his rooms and dramas—but Khun could be the outside eyes he needs here.

Kim’s eyes dart towards Khun and, before a plan’s even fully manifested in his head, he says, “We don’t have to cancel if you’d still like to meet up.”

“Are you sure?” Chay asks, doubtful.

“Yes.” And, because Kim’s mouth is running faster than his brain, he says, “I’ll text you my address.”

“We’re not practising in your rehearsal room?”

They really should. Kim will need a clean break as soon as he figures out what the hell’s going on with Porsche and Chay, and Chay’s too close already. But Kim eyes Khun from the corner of his eye—his brother almost hides the way he’s gone stiff with fear.

Almost.

“No,” he says decisively, before he can second guess himself, “It’s easier if you can come here. See you soon?”

“Okay!” Chay chirps. Then he immediately starts mumbling to himself about what sort of apartment Kim might live in, undoubtedly not realising that Kim hasn’t hung up yet. Kim listens to his mumbles for a few more seconds, fighting back a grin, before he hangs up and texts Chay his address. Chay responds almost immediately with, ‘o youre closer than uni, be there in 15ish!!!!’, which means Kim has thirty, maybe even forty minutes to get Khun on board with the investigation.

Except then he looks up from his phone to see Khun beaming at him, and he freezes, like a deer caught in a tiger’s sightline.

“What?”

Kim gets the impression that if Khun weren’t wearing sunglasses, his eyes would be sparkling. “You made a friend.”

What the fuck?

“Chay’s not a friend,” Kim snaps, which only makes Khun smile wider. His brother’s so weird. Then Khun’s words fully register, and Kim straightens indignantly. “And I have lots of university friends.”

“And Chay’s not one of them?” Khun asks pointedly, voice gaining a tone and brow arching high above his glasses. Again: what the fuck?

“He’s just a junior hoping to get into my faculty,” Kim says, a touch defensively. “I’m helping him with his audition.”

Khun hums, and even that sounds suggestive, though Kim can’t figure out for what. “But you’re helping him.” Kim opens his mouth to protest—He’s a good senior! He helps his juniors!—but Khun cuts him off with a sly grin. “Oihh. Either your Chay is totally hopeless in music and in dire need of a miracle—”

“What? No.”

Khun’s smile resembles a shark. “—or you admire his playing?”

“I— What?” Kim is so lost. He checks his phone—five minutes gone. “I don’t— Nevermind that. He’s…”

Kim falters. He just nearly told Khun he’s looking into Porsche by way of his brother, like a moron. For all that Khun ignores the reality of their family and chooses instead to bury himself in dramas and beauty regimes, he’s the one who cares the most about their family’s security and loyalties. He probably wouldn’t think twice that Kim’s trying to uncover something Papa’s hiding about the man as well—Khun will probably even consider it a bonus, if his gleefully needling questions during Kim’s visits are any indication.

But Khun likes Porsche. Kim doesn’t know what the man did to endear himself to his brother, but their bond must already run deep if Porsche had been able to get Khun to leave the compound after so little time together. He’s more dangerous than Kim first believed—all the more important for him to uncover the truth about the man, and do it soon—but…

Khun left the compound. He’s taking steps outside, with only mild anxiety instead of the full blown panic attacks and terror Kim remembers from their youth.

He remembers how badly Tawan broke Kinn. It’s bad enough his idiot brother is opening himself to a repeat of that clusterfuck, but what if Porsche’s bullshit destroys Khun’s trust too?

What if Kim ruins his confidence, and then he’s wrong?

“He’s just someone I’m trying to learn more about,” Kim says weakly.

“Ooh,” Khun coos, hands clapping together excitedly.

The excitement scrapes dissonances across his brain. This much emotional whiplash can’t be good for him—Kim’s going to take the longest nap after they’ve finished cleaning out this strain of rot.

Khun’s still staring at him from behind his clasped hands, lips pressed together and completely failing to hide his smile. Kim stares back at him, baffled. “I’m kicking you out if you’re going to be weird.”

“I’m never weird!” protests the man who sings his fish bedtime lullabies. “I’m simply excited about my baby brother’s future dating life!”

…

Kim chokes. “My what?!”

Khun gasps and grabs Kim’s cheeks, pulling their faces close together as he examines every twitch of his face. “Do you not know?”

Kim takes everything back, this is a mistake. “Get out.”

“Noooo,” Khun whines, throwing himself over Kim’s shoulders. “You can’t throw me out! I’m the perfect person to help you here!” Kim scoffs, and Khun clings on tighter. “I am! I’ve seen how this plays out in a drama!”

“Is that supposed to convince me?” Kim demands disbelievingly.

“Yes!”

This is so off topic.

“I— That’s not—!” Kim shoves Khun off completely and pinches the bridge of his nose. He takes a deep breath, trying to find his usual effortless equilibrium.

“I’m not trying to date Chay,” he says after his heart’s calmed down, final and absolute. “This isn’t a drama. Don’t try to see something that isn’t there.”

Khun looks frustratingly skeptical. “And you’re just trying to get to know someone better for not-dating purposes?”

“Yes.”

Khun scoffs. “Such a nosy person, and for no reason at all!”

Like that’s new? Kim bites back his first three retorts burning on the edge of his tongue and checks his phone. Twelve minutes gone and all of them wasted. When did time start going by so fast?

“Nevermind my reasons,” Kim bites out as he relocks his phone. “I just—“

Kim looks up to see Khun staring at him, smiling widely. It’d be an indulgent expression, if it weren’t so patronising.

Kim snaps his fingers towards his door. “Bye.”

Khun’s gasp is distinctly whiny. Kim refuses to be swayed.

“If you’re not going to help—“

“Ah, ah!” Khun whines obnoxiously. “Of course I’m going to stay and help! You’re my little brother!”

Kim’s next words die on his tongue, falling back to form a lump in his throat. So much for regaining his composure. Khun beams as Kim flounders, but not even that affects the weird warmth curling in his chest and choking off his words. This is all such a mess already, what the fuck was he thinking considering any scenario with Khun and Chay in the same room that wouldn’t end in disaster.

“You need to go,” Kim says abruptly. Khun squawks indignantly, but Kim barrels over him. “No, leave, go home.”

“But I’ve barely been here!” Khun whines. Whines. Like he isn’t the brother that locked himself so far away from the world he even makes his bodyguards check his mail first.

Like he isn’t protesting against going home.

Kim flounders for words, feeling rather like he missed a step down the stairs, when his doorbell rings and someone knocks on his door. Kim’s stomach swoops—forget missing a step, it’s like he’s missed the whole damn staircase—and he checks his phone with a frown. Chay hasn’t texted him any updates about his arrival, but it’s been only seventeen minutes since his last message. Kim should still have plenty of time, but then his intercom crackles to life and he can hear an all too-familiar mumbling before Chay hesitantly asks, “P’Kim?”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

Of all the days to start arriving on time!

Kim slaps Khun’s hand away from his intercom. Khun slaps him back and Kim only has enough time to shoot Khun a half-glare before Chay starts mumbling to himself.

“Just a sec, Chay,” he says, getting a sweet, “Okay!” back before he firmly shuts off his intercom and surveys the disaster of his own making. Khun looks positively giddy and Kim has exactly twenty-three seconds to deal with…that and drill some instructions through the bodyguards’ thick heads.

“You,” he says to Khun pointedly as he moves towards his front door, “are leaving as soon as you’ve said hello, and you lot—” he snaps as he whirls on the bodyguards.

The three bodyguards, who snap to attention and look distinctly mafia.

Fuck.

Kim glares at them. “Pretend you’re actual people, and don’t you dare address either of us as anything like ‘Boss’.”

“Yes Boss!” the three of them squeak in unison.

Kim bites back his next swear. It’s fine. It’ll be fine. He just needs two minutes to clear the idiots out. He can hold out for two minutes.

Kim combs back his hair, forces his shoulders to relax, and opens the door to Chay rocking on his heels and admiring the hall with wide, curious eyes.

Chay beams. “Hi, P’Kim!”

Two minutes, he reminds himself as he smiles back automatically. Then he frowns at who’s not with Chay.

“How’d you get past the doorman?”

Chay blinks, smile falling way to earnest concern. “Was he not supposed to let me up?”

“…Ah.”

The proper answer would be a big, emphatic no. The first time Kim had moved out of the family complex, Papa secretly bought the neighbouring units and stocked them with guards. After Kim stole and pawned one of Papa’s watches to move a second time less than three weeks later, the man outright bought the building and told him he’d be putting up with a guard team running the building’s security whether he likes it or not, in his infuriatingly practical way Kim couldn’t argue against. Chay only should have made it up to Kim’s apartment unannounced if that security team were dead and six additional layers of security including a dead man’s switch were disabled.

Watching Chay scratch his cheek and tell him how the nice doorman offered to come up with me but I didn’t want to disturb his other work for something so silly, please don’t be mad at him P’Kim, it’s my fault with total sincerity, Kim bets he knows exactly how Chay had squeezed his way into one of the most secure buildings in the city with no trouble at all.

One of these days, Kim’s going to unleash Chay on Kinn (or, even better, Papa) and sit back with popcorn and a notebook.

“Nevermind, it’s not a big deal,” he says, lying through his teeth. He shoots a final warning look over his shoulder—Arm and Pol startle from their stiff poses, only barely looking less like bodyguards. Khun has one hip propped against his balcony door and he’s smiling one of his weird smiles again. Pete’s nowhere to be seen. Less than thirty seconds, and it’s already the disaster it promised to be.

But it’s too late for anything else, now. Two minutes, Kim chants in his head, and he forces himself to step back and welcome Chay in.

“Oh,” Chay gasps, blinking at the others crowding Kim’s apartment, “It’s a party.”

“No,” Kim says quickly, glaring at Khun over Chay’s shoulder before his brother dares to get any more ideas. “They were just leaving.” Khun pouts. Kim’s glare turns icy. “Now.”

Chay turns towards him and Kim automatically smoothes his glare into something less mafia brat and more cool senior. But then Chay pouts at him too.

“They’re leaving already? Ah, but I was looking forward to meeting your brother, P’Kim,” he says sadly. “I didn’t even know you had one. You should’ve said, we could’ve bonded!”

No we couldn’t, Kim retorts in the safety of his mind. Chay reveres his brother. Kim doesn’t even pick up the phone when his call.

A gaudy gloved hand appears around Chay’s shoulder, and suddenly Khun’s pressed up against Chay’s side with a movie-worthy pout. Kim tries not to be surprised that his bedazzled brother managed to sneak up on him. Or too displeased with the way Khun squeezes Chay close. Or how Chay just lets him.

“He’s trying to get rid of me,” Khun whines to Chay. Kim’s glare does nothing to stop him or Chay’s sympathetic frown. “I haven’t seen my baby brother in ages, yet the only thing he does is be cruel.”

Chay’s pout joins Khun’s. This isn’t fucking fair. “P’Kim. Why not let your brother stay?”

“No. I’m your tutor, and I say no outsiders.”

“Outsider?” Khun demands, offended. He turns to Chay, metaphorical feathers puffed, and Chay pats his shoulder soothingly. “Outsider!”

Chay gives Kim a disappointed look. No one gives Kim disappointed looks, they wouldn’t dare. This shouldn’t be happening at all, much less make Kim feel like scum.

“Why can’t we?” Khun whines. “We can be helpful! We can give feedback!”

Chay nods reasonably, as though what Khun’s saying is a reasonable thing. “You did say I needed to start practising in front of crowds, P’Kim. Your brother and his friends should stay!”

“See, it’s perfect!” Khun says brightly. “And you"—Khun taps Chay on the nose—“just call me Phi.”

Chay and Khun beam at each other, so bright it’s giving Kim a headache. Kim’s two minutes are officially up—there’s no way he’s getting rid of Khun any time soon now.

Damage control time.

“Fine,” Kim says through gritted teeth. “Arm. Pol. Out.”

Khun opens his mouth to protest. Kim glares his absolute hardest and actually manages to shut him up. “No. I do not have room for six people in this apartment. Arm and Pol can come back later.”

Khun pouts, which is more or less what Kim expects, but then his guards do too. What the fuck is Kinn teaching their people these days?

“But we—” Pol starts.

“Out.”

Chay startles and Kim nearly bites his tongue off. Shit. Too much mafia brat. At least Pol shuts up though, and Arm grabs his arm as they scurry out the door, only pausing long enough to give Kim and Khun twitchy half-bows goodbye that make Chay raise his eyebrows. Pete miraculously reappears as well, minus the formal top layers of his uniform and three of his shirt buttons. Kim itches to boot him out too, but Pete at least almost looks like a casual senior with his newly ruffled appearance, and Kim doesn’t want to risk upsetting Khun by sending away all of his security. Kim settles for just shooting Pete a warning glare. Pete rolls with it, beckoning Khun over to watch something on his phone, and Khun flutters off like an obnoxiously bright hummingbird, giving Kim a blessed moment alone with Chay. He begrudgingly gives the man a point in his books—Pete always has been nearly likeable, despite the fact that he’s been with their family forever.

Chay nudges his shoulder. Worry swirls in those big eyes of his as he peeks up from beneath his curly bangs. “P’Kim?”

“Now you’ve met my brother,” Kim says, unable to keep the defeat from his tone. “Regret it yet?”

Chay snorts, hand flying up too late to hide his amusement. Kim smirks, and Chay knocks their shoulders together again, mock scoldingly. “I’m happy to meet him,” he insists, smiling widely. “And I get to see your home! Today’s already a good day.”

Right, superfan, Kim thinks with a grimace. But still, he steps aside and waves Chay deeper into his apartment. Only Chay takes one step further in and abruptly stops short, cute expression wrinkling into a frown.

“Might’ve been better if I never saw this,” Chay mumbles. Kim looks at him quizzically. Chay blushes, but says, almost defiantly, “You have a giant picture of your face on your wall.” Chay’s eyes dart between it and Kim, and he mumbles again, “I didn’t think P’Kim would be this sort of egoist.”

Kim’s mouth drops in outrage. Says the one with an idol wall of me.

But Kim can’t think of any way to protest the accusation. No one who’s entered this apartment before had dared to linger, much less make comments on his decor. And it’s not like he can explain “ugly expensive paintings hide safes, giant selfies hide conspiracy boards” either, not without things completely crashing to hell.

Chay pats his shoulder. His sympathetic image is entirely ruined by the mischievous glimmer in his eyes, even though he tries to hide it behind his bangs.

“Don’t worry P’Kim! I won’t hold your terrible tastes against you.”

Kim ruffles Chay’s curls until the boy whines. “What happened to you wanting to be my cute little junior, hmm?” he says through gritted teeth.

“Ai ai ai ai ai.”

Kim eases up, his cool expression threatening to crack into a smile. Chay wiggles away with a pout and a whiny, “P’Kimmm,” as he tries to fix his hair, eyes going slightly cross-eyed and his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. It’s comically adorable. Kim rolls his eyes and steps away, only to come face-to-face with Khun watching them.

All the tension from earlier slams back into him. He even falters in his step, just once, before he can shake it off. Pete looks away, trying to fade into the background under the force of Kim’s glare, but Khun just watches him through those ridiculous pink star sunglasses, one finger pressed to his lips thoughtfully.

Fuck.

“He has a point, little brother, an enlarged picture of yourself on your own wall is positively gaudy,” says the man wearing a suit that’d light up like a disco ball the second he steps into a club.

Kim sputters and a muffled giggle comes from behind him. Kim shoots Chay a dirty look, but Chay’s brave again now that he’s out of Kim’s reach. Chay drops his hand and—badly—attempts to look solemn and grave.

“It is a tragic point against you,” Chay says, barely choking back his laughter. “Maybe even two.” He turns morose, or as morose as one can be when they’re turning pink from trying to hold back their giggles. “I shall have to think very hard of some good points about you to balance this out.”

Kim narrows his eyes and his little shithead junior has the audacity to scuttle closer to his brother, his hand doing nothing to hide his mischief. Khun pays Chay no mind, instead frowning at the picture with his lips pushed out like a contemplative duck, and Kim’s danger instincts flare.

“He’s right, it’s much too tacky.” Khun nods decisively. “We should get rid of it.”

“What— Hey!”

Khun makes a beeline for his picture and Kim lunges after him. Except Kim misjudges how fast Khun is and instead of getting between Khun and his picture, he knocks into Khun’s back and sends them both colliding painfully into his storage hutch.

“Ai!”

Khun glares over his shoulder, Kim’s decor choices forgotten, and it’s shockingly intense when his eyes aren't obscured by ridiculous coloured lenses.

Khun bares his teeth in a hiss. “Kim—”

Kim freezes, but it’s like a switch flips as Khun touches his face with an abrupt gasp. “My glasses!”

Then he lunges over Kim’s hutch, foot kicking up right into Kim’s balls.

“Ai—” Kim bites his lip to strangle the rest of his shout. He jerks out of Khun’s kicking range and—fuck, that fucking hurts. He barely catches himself on the hutch before he falls and he grits his teeth through the urge to swear and shout and do murderous harm unto his brother.

Pete materialises next to him with a grimace. His hands flutter briefly before Kim drives him back with a furious glare. Pete skitters back meekly, his panicked smile stretched tight across his face. “Ah, sorry sorry, uh—P’Khun! Let me help!”

“Got them!” Khun yells with a victorious kick of his feet, driving both his hard heeled shoes right into Pete’s crotch.

Pete’s face goes white. He collapses in stages—first bent in half, then in a slow buckle of his knees, until finally he just tips over with a small keen and spills across the floor. Kim almost feels sorry for him, but if a bodyguard can’t even withstand a kick to the balls, they have bigger issues on their hands.

Khun pops up triumphantly, tacky sunglasses in hand. “Here they are!” he cheers. Pete groans into the carpet. Kim’s balls throb. Khun pays neither of them any mind as he inspects his glasses worryingly.

He sniffs and gives Kim a wounded look. “The lense got scratched.”

Kim levels him with a flat stare. “How terrible for you.”

Khun puts his glasses back on, scratched lense and all, with a huff and finally notices Pete sprawled out across the floor.

“Eh? Pete? What’re you doing down there?”

Pete whimpers weakly.

Kim combs back his bangs, taking a deep breath and praying for patience he definitely doesn’t have. He opens his eyes to meet Chay’s, who’s standing paralyzed across the room, his hands clasped over his mouth and his eyes wide with worry. Kim watches the line of Chay’s jaw move, and he doesn’t even need to hear or see Chay’s mouth move to know he’s alternating between I’m sorry and are you alright?! over and over.

Great. Just.

Great.

Kim better not get an aneurysm from all this. That would be stupid.

Kim tries not to shove Khun too hard as he hustles him away from his hidden conspiracy board. Khun blessedly lets himself be hustled and Pete limps behind them, but then Kim’s faced with yet another problem.

See, after the first little independence tug-o-war after he moved out, the bodyguards assigned to him were reluctant to obey his orders to stay away over Papa’s orders to stick close. Kim had tolerated the sea of black bodies loitering in his living room for all of a day before he’d aggressively stripped out all of his light and comfortable furniture and stuffed the apartment full of awkwardly clunky seating in a terrible flow arrangement, cluttered every flat surface he could find with countless knickknacks, and left his balcony completely open during the hottest weather of the year. The bodyguards had fled within the week, seeking solace in the air-conditioned security offices and lobby stuffed with properly comfortable furniture, and Kim was left with blessed peace.

And very little motivation to fix his apartment’s terrible accommodations. There are exactly three comfortable spots in his whole apartment—his bed, his balcony chair, and the small couch and armchair in his living space, saved from the initial purge just incase Papa chooses to visit him here.

Khun pushes Pete to sit on said couch, then flops himself across Pete’s lap and settles into the small space like a king lounging upon a dais. That leaves just Kim’s armchair for him and Chay, unless Kim either wrestles his balcony chair inside or drags over one of the deceptively heavy dining chairs.

Chay notices the problem too. His eyes dart around the apartment and he wrings his hands fretfully in a move Kim refuses to find cute. He makes a half-aborted step towards grabbing one of the dining table chairs, but Kim’s going to develop ulcers if Chay tries to move one of the weighted seats over here.

“Chay,” Kim says as he beckons at his oversized armchair, “Use this one.”

Chay reluctantly comes over, looking between Kim and the last chair with a worried frown. “But what about you?”

“Just sit,” he mutters, and pushes the top of Chay’s head until he plops down in the seat. Chay wiggles out from underneath Kim’s hand and pouts up at him, right up until Kim perches himself on one of the armchair’s oversized cushioned arms, after which he visibly swallows a squeak.

Kim stifles a grin. “Scales,” he orders. Chay wrinkles his nose, but dutifully grabs his guitar.

Warm sounds of the guitar fill the small space, at first only interrupted by Pete’s grunt as he tries to find a more comfortable sitting position and the colour returns to his face. Khun just watches them with his head propped up on his hand and a concerning smile on his lips. But it’s peaceful. Kim almost dares to describe it as nice, which is probably why it only lasts through half of Chay’s first warmup.

“Sooo, Chay,” Khun interrupts between notes, “What sort of music do you play?”

Chay perks up. Kim pokes the back of his head pointedly, and Chay sulks but returns to his warmups. “I mostly play pop,” he says absently as he watches his fingers. “It’s not my favourite, but it’s the genre I’m the most comfortable with.” Chay smiles to himself, gentle and sheepish. “There used to be a small tv store nearby my and my brother’s home. After school, we’d sit on the curb and watch whatever was on the different screens. My brother liked sports, but I first learned how to play by watching the performers’ fingers on the tvs.”

“Really?” Khun and Pete ask simultaneously, awed. Chay laughs, self-conscious.

“I was really bad at it, actually,” he confesses. “I was just going off grainy footage without sound. I got loads better after we could afford a new TV and service.”

And he says it so modestly, Kim thinks. He knows better than to try to compliment things like that, though, after the first time when Chay got so flustered he insulted himself for three minutes straight before running away. It’s absolutely maddening the way Chay can ask his idol for lessons during their first meeting and flirt with Kim during their tutor sessions, but gets shy when Kim’s openly impressed by his self-taught talent. Chay’s at least struggling to brush off Khun’s enthusiastic remarks, but. Still.

Pete saves Chay from Khun’s increasingly insistent compliments. “What music do you like best then?”

Chay smiles brightly. “Oh, old rock! My dad had a ton of records from his uni years and we’d listen to them together when he was trying to get me to nap when I was little.”

“Your dad had you listen to old rock to get you to fall asleep?” Kim asks, eyebrows rising.

“He heard music was a good way to calm kids down and the only music he liked was old rock, and he didn’t see any conflict between the two ideas.” Chay’s smile turns impish. “It worked though. I could nap through a concert, now.”

“One of your many talents, I’m sure,” Kim says dryly, and Chay sticks his tongue out at him. Brat.

Pete laughs nervously, eyes darting between Kim and Chay. He looks scared of Kim, which is ridiculous, but he looks at Chay as though Chay’s unreal, which is annoying. “So, ah, Chay! What are you playing right now?”

“Nothing. I’m warming up by playing a scales exercise,” Chay says glumly. Kim flicks his ear in reprimand and Chay grumbles, “I could play a song I’m familiar with as a warmup instead.”

Kim snorts. “Show me a song you’ve played five hundred times, and I’ll let you. Chords.”

Chay sighs tragically and goes on to the next exercise, eliciting muffled giggles from Khun and another weirdly impressed look from Pete. But for all that Chay complains when Kim’s present, his growing confidence and smoothness moving through the warmups has improved a lot compared to their first proper lesson—more than it should have if Chay weren’t practising on his own. Kim can’t help but feel exasperated and smug, and maybe even a little bit proud too.

Khun’s smugness, on the other hand, he could do without. Kim narrows his eyes at his brother, but Khun’s smile just grows wider. “Who knew little Kim was such a strict taskmaster,” he teases.

Kim frowns—what’s that supposed to mean?—and Chay cocks his head to the side as well. “P’Kim’s the best teacher,” he says sincerely. Kim tries not to flatter himself too much at that—he’s the only teacher Chay’s had, and ‘Wik’ is still his idol—but then Chay’s eyes dart towards him and he turns impish. “Even when he assigns me homework.”

“One song, so terrible,” Kim retorts dryly. “I don’t remember you complaining when I assigned you to write a song about your brother,”

“But this one’s a love song! It’s really hard!”

“Oh,” Khun gasps, like a shark on blood. It sends chills down Kim’s spine. “He’s having you write a love song?”

“It’s a good place to start composing,” Kim says, a touch defensively. Shit, now Khun looks even more eager. “There are very few people who don’t have experiences with family or love they can channel into songwriting,” he insists, despite knowing it’s doing nothing to help his case against Khun’s growing grin.

“But I’m one of those unfortunate people,” Chay says despondently.

Something like a record scratch scrapes across his ears and all worries about Khun and his notions fly out of his mind. He blinks stupidly at the top of Chay’s head, brain mid-reboot.

“Oh?” Khun asks, “You’ve never been in a relationship? Or had a crush?”

Chay slumps with a pout. “Nope.”

He’s not even showing any signs that he’s lying, but… “But you like—you said you had a crush when I first brought the assignment up,” Kim says, trying not to sound accusing but mostly failing.

Luckily, Chay doesn’t seem to notice. Unluckily, Khun looks like today’s his birthday come early, but Kim will worry about that later.

“I thought I did have one,” Chay protests, still pouting. “But then I started writing out things I felt about that person, the same way you suggested when I wrote the song about my brother, and I realised I feel similar about a lot of my seniors I admire.”

But do you have idol walls for them, Kim thinks frustratedly. “So…what? You have crushes on lots of people?”

“Hmm, no, I don’t think so.” Chay idly taps his guitar as he considers the question. Kim shoves down the urge to shake him until he spills his thoughts. “I just realised that what I felt involves a lot of admiration. I’m not sure it’s actually a crush-crush.”

What’s he even supposed to say to that? He’s uncomfortably aware of Pete watching him with raised brows, and Khun’s head swivelling between him and Chay, but he just stares at the tops of Chay’s slowly darkening cheeks, willing him to crack.

Chay turns away from everyone’s curious looks with a soft laugh. He traces little flowers on the side of his guitar shyly. “I’m still figuring out if any of my feelings run deeper than admiration. It’s not like I have previous crushes to compare to!”

Kim doesn’t give away any physical sign of irritation—he would never, he has been trained—but this is a…surprise. Kim hates surprises. Chay’s lack of a crush on him wouldn’t normally be an issue, especially not when this was his intended goal of the assignment in the first place, but Kim’s…Kim’s been using Chay’s idolization of ‘Wik’ to his advantage. His gut twists uncomfortably. It’s—it’s good Chay’s getting over his crush on him, and Kim will wrap up this whole mess before Chay’s completely over his crush anyways. Unless…well, he probably is still the potential crush Chay’s considering, but apparently Chay admires lots of his seniors… “Who.”

Chay laughs nervously and casually waves away the question. “Eh, it’s not a big deal. It’s probably just something silly.”

Kim hates himself for not grabbing a proper chair earlier, he can’t see Chay’s face from this angle at all.

“Ah,” Khun drawls. Kim doesn’t trust his smile one bit. “Well, do you admire your older brother?” he asks. His smile gentles as Chay replies with a happy mm! “Maybe you could compare how you feel about this person to your admiration for your brother to help figure out how you feel.”

It takes significant effort not to frown at the idea of Chay possibly comparing him to his brother. It takes even more effort not to glare daggers at Khun, but he relaxes a bit when Chay loudly laughs off the suggestion.

“Nobody compares to Hia, he’s the best.”

Well, now Kim’s annoyed again. Khun coos loudly and Chay blushes, but he doesn’t look even slightly ashamed or shy about his proud declaration.

“Such a good and devoted little brother!” Kim rolls his eyes at the barb. Khun ignores him. “What’s your brother like then? Is he as cool as me?” he asks with a wink.

Chay laughs. “Nope,” he says cheerfully, “No offence to P’Khun, but Hia’s the coolest person ever. He’s amazing at everything he does and he’s taken care of me most my life—”

Kim bites back his irritated sigh. It’s good that Khun got Chay to talk about Porsche. That’s the whole point. Chay’s not necessarily saying anything about his brother that Kim hasn’t already heard from him before, but he could always let new details slip, tempting little threads for Kim to find and pick at until more about the mystery around Porsche is revealed, so long as Kim pays attention.

(…But still. Khun couldn’t have waited just three minutes more?)

Kim pokes the back of Chay’s head to cut off his ramble. (Chay’s not saying anything new. He can ramble on about his brother for hours, Kim would know, stop looking at him like that, Khun.)

“You know you don’t have to buff up your brother here, right?” Kim asks, warmly exasperated and fond, just like any other perfect university senior would be. “It’s not like any of us will tell him what you say.”

Well, Kim certainly won’t, and Pete’s paid to take all family secrets to the grave. Khun’s a wild card, but he probably recognizes telling Porsche he knows his beloved little brother will undoubtedly set the man off, and is all around a terrible idea now that Porsche is allowed to carry a gun in house.

Chay frowns at him, genuinely confused. “What do you mean? Hia is the best person in the world.”

Kim waves it off. “Sure, but brothers are obligated to speak well of their siblings, yeah?” Not that Kim’s never done that, but he’s a rude person and anyways, Kinn had ordered him to be nice to him when Kim was seven and it’s not like he can back down now. Besides; “Khun only ever tells people nice things about me, whether they’re true or not.”

“No I don’t,” Khun snorts. “I call you a weirdo recluse and leave it at that. Assuming you even come up.”

Chay’s shoulders quiver with silent laughter. Kim’s glare could shatter glass.

Pete rubs his chin thoughtfully. “But that’s not true, K—P’Khun. You once said he was kind and generous and blesses us with his sweet singing voice.”

Kim blinks, startled, but Khun just whines. Loudly. “First and last time I lied to Elizabeth and Sebastian.”

“Elizabeth and Sebastian?!”

Chay looks at him funnily, and Kim straightens indignantly. “Elizabeth and Sebastian were his fish.”

Khun scowls darkly. “They were my babies and they were heartbroken they never got to hear their uncle sing to them,” he complains, voice thick with aged grievances.

Chay smacks Kim’s thigh lightly in admonishment. “P’Kim.”

“They. Were. Fish.”

Khun makes a wounded noise. Pete strangles his laugh under Kim’s icy glare. Chay sighs, sounding so terribly disappointed he must’ve picked it up from all the adults Porsche undoubtedly pissed off.

“My brother would’ve sung lullabies to my fish if I asked him,” Chay says.

Yeah, because it would’ve been you asking, Kim thinks irritably. “I know you don’t always think the world of your brother,” Kim accuses and Chay frowns indignantly, “You called him a reckless thick-headed walnut just last week.”

“That’s because Hia is a reckless thick-headed walnut,” Chay says, except he says it like it doesn’t contradict his thesis that the sun shines from Porsche’s ass. Ugh.

Khun cackles terribly. “Oh my sweet Chay, if I had a younger brother like you, I’d be the richest man alive.”

Chay gasps, hand clasped over his mouth and wide eyes darting between Kim and Khun, like a gossipy old granny. Kim rolls his eyes so hard he might get a headache. “You have Kinn,” Kim says dismissively, “I know I’m a better liar, but you’ll just have to make do with his artless flattery.” Chay abruptly looks away, shoulders shaking with muffled giggles.

“Oi,” Khun barks with a comically disgusted grimace. Now Kim’s pressing his lips together to hide his laughter too. Not that it matters, Khun sees all.

Khun scoffs. “Hey Chay, I’m in the market for a new younger brother. Your parents won’t mind a friendly kidnapping, right? I can write a nice note if it helps!”

Chay’s giggles had died abruptly with the word ‘parents’ and his demeanour grew more strained with every word after. Kim glares at his brother.

“Ah,” Chay says, cheerful but brittle. “No, er, my parents—ah—”

Khun blinks, head tipped in a question, before his eyes go huge and he slaps his hand over his mouth with a gasp, so overdone it’d be disgustingly fake on anyone else. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I—”

“No, it’s fine!” Chay’s quick to reassure, even waving his hands in front of himself cutely. A muscle in Kim’s jaw flexes. “They died when I was really little, it’s not that. I just, ah…” Chay scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “It’s just, uh, a little awkward? ‘Cos I didn’t really—just! It’s no big deal!” Chay laughs a little forcefully, smile brittle. “So, yeah… Ah, no parents!” Chay tries to grin cheekily. It comes out a strained grimace. “You’d have to fight Hia for my hand in adoption, anyways, and he’d win. So best not to bother!”

“Owh,” Khun protests, somehow managing to make the exact stupid face Chay needs to break out of his funk and giggle. Kim could only dream. “I know I don’t look like much, but I’m pretty scrappy in a fight!”

Fights dirty, Kim translates in his head, thinking about all the self-defence lessons of his youth that had ended with Khun biting and clawing and slapping the instructors. Khun never quite grew out of his aversion to violence enough to learn how to throw a punch, but he made sure he’d never be an easy target ever again.

Chay grins at Khun, brightly bemused once more. “Sorry, P’Khun!” he chirps, “I believe you, but no one beats Hia.”

They have extensive records of Porsche’s first weeks as a bodyguard to prove otherwise, actually, but Kim’s not sure even that would be enough to shake Chay’s unwavering confidence in the man. A faith so unwavering that Chay can apparently sense Kim’s doubt because he twists awkwardly in his seat to pout at him accusingly.

“I’ve never met your brother, how could I know?” Kim asks, smug.

Chay sniffs primly. “You should believe everything I say, ever, because I’m good and honest and all-knowing.”

Kim smothers a smile. “I’m going to demand citations every time you open your mouth, just for that.”

Kim expects Chay to puff up in mock offence, as per their usual banter, but Chay’s gaze suddenly goes faraway and his smile soft. Kim nudges Chay’s shoulder with his elbow inquisitively, and Chay gets shy and sheepish.

“Just, ah, remembering, after my parents died…” Chay’s gaze is still distant. Kim quells the urge to do something about it. Chay continues, talking so softly it’s almost like he’s forgotten the rest of them were there, “Hia really is amazing. I remember thinking he looked like an ugly rainbow, all covered in plasters and bruises, but not even that could keep him down for long. He was out of the hospital and fretting over me in record time.”

Kim blinks. “Your brother was in the hospital then?”

Chay shoots him a wry look. “Yeah, he was with my parents? Not even Hia can walk away from a full course collision without any harm.”

Kim brows rise before he catches himself, an irritating crack in his poker face. Khun coughs obnoxiously, and Chay startles. Looks like he had indeed forgotten Khun and Pete were still in the room, if the delicate flush on the tips of his ears is any indication.

“How did you fair in the crash then?” Khun asks nosily.

Chay raises his eyebrows, eyes glancing between Kim and Khun, faintly disbelieving. Kim stomps down the urge to throttle his brother—Khun wouldn’t know subtlety even if it stuck its foot up his ass, but he should know better than this—but after a beat, Chay seems to come to an internal decision and indulges Khun.

“No, they called uncle to babysit me then. And before you ask,” Chay says dryly, “I don’t know why I wasn’t with them either. Just that they were supposed to be gone a few hours, not forever,” he finishes tartly.

Kim…Kim just blinks. He knows he needs to say something, anything, to break the strained silence, but his mind whirls.

He’s looked into Porsche and Chay’s extended family, obviously. Their parents had died in a vehicle collision that was dismissed shortly afterwards. Normally, Kim would be intrigued by that, but the cover-up had been…sloppy, specifically in the way cases are when they’re buried via a fat check. Rich people—normal rich people, who do terrible things on the right side of the law, rather than his family’s brand of personally violent rich—don’t have to pay for anything more than an officer ‘losing’ a few key pieces of evidence and a few paltry court fines, especially not against two fresh orphans. Even if Porsche and Chay had gotten someone to argue their case pro bono, money comes hand-in-hand with connections, and no one wants to arrest or rule against their friends. The whole thing stunk of corruption, but it was typical legal corruption.

But.

According to the police report, it was only their parents in the vehicle, hit on their way to the Suvarnabhumi Airport.

It could just be nothing. Kim had—briefly—entertained the possibility that his family was somehow involved in the death of Porsche and Chay’s parents. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time his family’s buried a police investigation. But he’d dismissed it just as quickly—such a brief and brittle connection wouldn’t explain the lengths Papa’s gone to entrap Porsche in the family, even if he were to assume Papa would ever feel something so pedestrian as guilt. The cover-up was too sloppy anyways—his family’s too thick in illegal activities to leave behind a mess like that that could be potentially traced back to them.

But.

If it’s not nothing…if what Chay said is true, and not the confused memories of a grieving child…those are weird details to change to dismiss a vehicular manslaughter case. But if there were a second, more subtle cover-up lurking below the first one…

Now that might as well come with Papa’s signature stamped at the bottom of the page.

How curious, Kim thinks, hands itching to reexamine the police report. Then Khun starts to speak, openly curious, and Kim snaps out of it.

“And you claim I’m rude,” he says flippantly, and Khun’s mouth snaps shut. The tension slowly tightening Chay’s shoulders disappears as he sighs with relief, so quietly Kim might’ve missed it if not for their close proximity.

“Ah, I’m sorry Chay,” Khun says, startlingly sincere. Chay tenses up again and turns towards Kim abruptly.

“You are rude P’Kim,” Chay says loudly over Khun’s apologies, “I’ve been here for hours, and you’ve not once offered us snacks.”

He’s too flustered to sound genuinely teasing, but Kim grins anyways. Chay turns on his puppy eyes, even more adorable now with the gleam of panic across his face, and Kim’s grin grows. He thinks this might be the first time he’s ever seen Chay run away from his feelings—it’s rather refreshing, after all these weeks of being flustered himself by Chay’s brutally direct honesty every other turn.

He might be enjoying it a little too much, actually.

“You’re so spoiled,” he finally retorts. Chay relaxes with the scolding, and Kim suppresses a fond eye roll. “It’s barely been thirty minutes.”

“Time feels twice as long when you’re wasting away,” Chay says immediately, looking tragic.

“Not even good company can assuage that,” Khun gleefully chimes in, adding his own puppy eyes into the mix.

“I’m not going to be bullied into feeding you leeches,” Kim says determinedly. Chay gains the air of a dejected puppy. Khun’s lower lip wobbles threateningly.

“I’m not,” Kim insists as he pulls out his phone to order takeaway. Khun and Chay perk up, and Kim shoots them a withering look. “I’m doing this now only because I don’t want to deal with any whining later.”

“Mhmm,” Chay and Khun hum, in eerie harmony.

;;;

After he sees Chay out later that afternoon, Kim’s surprised Khun doesn’t bolt out after him. The tutoring session had run long, again, and he’d half-expected Khun to just swan out in the middle of Kim and Chay running through the same chorus for the nth time together. It’s a relief that he won’t have to make a trip back home to hear Khun’s observations—or worse, have to try to call him—but if Khun’s lingering because he’s scared about the actual trip back home…

Kim squints at his brother. “Are you planning to stay much longer?”

“Oih,” Khun grunts, affronted. “Ten seconds into our bonding time, and you’re already trying to get rid of me!”

Kim rolls his eyes fondly. “It came out meaner than I meant. I was just wondering when you’re going to leave.”

Khun’s sulky look remains. “That’s still trying to get rid of me! I’m a treasure, and not one you’re appreciating properly!”

“No”—Khun throws a small throw pillow at him and Kim dodges smoothly with a grin—“Stop it! I’m just surprised you want to stay here so long, that’s all.”

“Ehh, it’s a marvel to even me. Your apartment is actively hostile to guests, little brother,” Khun complains as he looks around. “And so allergic to colour, too! I shall bring a beanbag next time. In pink, to finally add some joy to this place.”

Next time. Kim flounders for a response, before he gives up trying to think of a comeback and just flops into his chair. He wiggles his toes, stretching out the gentle ache of his thighs from perching against seats instead of properly sitting for so long. He’s a fool, is what he means, because Khun grabs hold of the opening with glee and a blinding smile.

“We should watch a drama! I bet we could make an awesome pillow fort if we take off your cushions and pile the rest of the furniture outside!”

“What.”

Khun waves imperiously. “Calm down, we’ll make Arm and Pol move the furniture. They’re probably bored, I’m sure they won’t mind.”

“That’s not—I don’t want to watch a drama,” Kim complains, but Khun ignores him in favour of giving Pete a shopping list of his favourite snacks. Ugh.

He watches Khun hustle Pete out the door with weary resignation. “Did it ever occur to you it’s rude to treat my apartment as your own?” he asks, with little hope that Khun will change his ways.

“I am not,” Khun protests as he flounces back across the room and throws himself down on the couch with gratuitous drama. “I’m simply clearing the room of prying ears so you can lay out the plot.”

Kim rubs his forehead. “The what?”

Khun huffs irritably, as though Kim’s being purposefully obtuse, and pulls his glasses off with a flourish. “The plot of your hidden conspiracy board, obviously.”

Kim freezes, prey before predator, and Khun rolls his eyes. “You’re worried about all the trouble around Kinn right now,” he says matter-of-factly. Kim narrows his eyes—Big’s concerns about Porsche had already been dismissed by his higher-ups, and then man’s too intimidated by Khun to try to get him involved—and Khun smiles, as cold and unreadable as a shark. “I’m sure you’re using it to justify getting close to your lovely Chay, too, but you clearly need my help if you think Porsche is involved in any of this. You certainly don’t have any of my security concerns pinned up on that board of yours, and one of them just walked out the door.”

That—

He—

“What.”

Khun huffs judgmentally. “See, this is what happens when you never visit.” Khun levels a stern glare at him. “Or pretend bodyguards don’t exist.”

“I verified all of Kinn’s guards,” Kim snaps defensively. He holds up a finger before Khun can say more, pinching the bridge of his nose with his other hand as he thinks. “There were some flags, but nothing that matched the trouble brewing, and they weren’t even…” Kim sighs explosively, dragging his fingers down his nose. He frowns at Khun. “You think the mole is Pete?”

That just didn’t fit at all. Pete’s one of the family’s favourite bodyguards, and while Kim might hold that against the man on a personal level, he can appreciate it at least on a professional level. Besides, Pete’s been with them for ages as well, and he weathered the storm of Kinn’s paranoia after the fallout with Tawan. That, more than anything, speaks to his loyalty.

Khun clucks his tongue. “I didn’t say I thought he was the mole, I said he was a concern.”

“Since when is Pete a concern?”

“You’re being particularly thick-headed today, little brother,” Khun says in his loftiest, most obnoxious voice, “You must know the minor family is involved, which places our dearest cousin in the opposition's lead role.”

“…And?” Kim demands when Khun says nothing further. “Pete knows what Vegas is like, it’s not like Vegas can trick him into picking him over Kinn like some newbie.”

Khun stares at him for a long moment, assessing, before he smiles terribly and barks out a short, humourless laugh. “Oh, my dear littlest brother,” he says, purposefully grating, “You don’t even realise the blinders you give yourself.”

“And since when do you speak in riddles?” Kim snaps back sourly.

Khun shrugs. “Fine. You love violence.”

Everything stops—the gentle buzz of traffic outside, the soundscape of Kim’s apartment, Kim himself—as Kim’s perception narrows to only his brother. He breathes out slowly through his nose, deliberately relaxes his clenched fists.

“I am not like Vegas,” he says, calmly detached despite the roar of blood in his ears.

“Sure you aren’t,” Khun agrees blithely, “Your lack of limits scares you, so you ran away and tried to bury it under specially crafted personas and lies.”

A muscle flexes in Kim’s jaw. He wonders if Khun would be able to say that so dispassionately if he had realised what Kim sees every time he looks at him. At anyone.

“You run away from the darkness that calls to you, but I’d have thought Vegas would be plenty example of how not everyone does the same.”

Kim’s frown darkens. “You think Pete’s like Vegas?”

Khun snorts. Kim graciously ignores his irritable mutters of thickheaded brothers and idiot children. “No. I think Pete would want to know what it’d take for him to crack, and that Vegas would be the only one that could push him to the brink. And curiosity makes people sloppy, worse than fear does, and that makes Pete a concern.”

Kim’s nails pluck at the weave of the armchair’s upholstery. He forces his fingers to go lax again. “You’re making a lot of fuss over someone who’s still loyal to Kinn,” he manages to say, almost sounding normal.

“If you’re more focused on one leak instead of every hole in Kinn’s protection, then you need to sit through Papa’s lessons again,” Khun retorts. Kim can’t help his bemused huff, even as his heart jackrabbits against his ribs.

Then Khun pouts petulantly, all of his previous intensity vanishing into his spoiled prince airs. “Of course, none of that would be a problem if Kinn would stop stealing Pete for assignments, but a good bodyguard can’t be hoarded away by the insane brother forever.”

That’s—

…Huh.

Kim narrows his eyes at Khun. Khun just pouts back and spares Kim a few minutes to mentally reset the board to accommodate the new information, and get his heart rate back down to normal. Though, knowing Khun and his love for drama, he very well might just be waiting for Kim to lower his guard before he drops the next bomb.

Kim sighs and rubs his forehead to soothe the tension headache already forming. “I liked you better when you were just insane,” he mutters.

“Hah! I don’t know what you’re talking about my dear little brother, I’ve always been the sanest one of us all.” Kim’s lips twitch upwards, just a bit, and Khun looks smug as he waves his hand grandly. “Now, Pete will return in less than fifteen minutes and unless you’d like to make an audience of our gossipy guards, I suggest you tell me the plot, chop chop.”

Kim admires his brother, fingers pressed to his lips, and Khun meets his stare with a raised brow. “My dear older brother,” he says slyly, grinning as Khun wrinkles his nose, “are you saying you don’t trust your own handpicked bodyguards to hear this?”

Khun snorts. “Arm and Pol are many marvellous things, but they’d never have been my bodyguards if they had any measure of guile.”

“Very machiavellian of you,” Kim says drolly. He means it as a joke but for a moment, Kim sees a flash of the world that should have been, with Khun and his ruthlessness at the head of the family, leaving Kinn free to chase his bleeding heart and his dreams.

Kim scoffs silently to himself and shoves the image away. How ridiculously sentimental of him.

“We agree that the minor family’s stirring up trouble.” Khun snorts at his dry assessment. “But they’re not solely responsible for the amount of trouble Kinn’s run into lately. The question is, are they working with someone else, or is there a third party taking advantage of their ambition to target Kinn?”

Khun hums, fingers drumming against his seat as he thinks. “Yes, it’s been quite the mess. Finding the mole would be the quickest way to unearth that scheme, rather than trying to track any patterns in the attacks.”

“Mm,” Kim agrees blandly, as though this clusterfuck hasn’t been a total fucking nightmare to untangle, “They’re quite skilled at masking their intentions. Whoever’s stirring up trouble either doesn’t know how to benefit from the chaos, or they have deeper reasons not to press their advantage. Unless any of the other opportunists stood out to you as potential players?”

Khun grins, looking rather sharklike. “Noticed Vegas cleaning house too, did you?”

Kim snorts. “Hard to miss what we all knew was coming. That italian was a fat cat too easy to use and too flashy to live long around here.”

Khun sighs. “Pity we never learned who he gets those pizzelle cookies from though, I’ve already eaten through my backup stash. So? What's your plan for tracking down the rat, little brother?”

Kim meets Khun’s raised brows with his own guileless stare. After a beat, he blinks innocently at his brother, and Khun grins.

“Ah, I see. Kinn does make for very pretty bait, doesn’t he,” he coos.

Kim rolls his eyes. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed Kinn goes out almost exclusively on business nowadays,” he says, bemused, “And before you try to claim Kinn’s just being cautious, may I remind you of his recent, and entirely avoidable, forced vacation.”

Khun grins, unrepentant and proud, but doesn’t offer any insights as to how he managed that. Kim itches to interrogate him, but forces himself to focus. “Kinn’s team is good—he just needs to keep his gun and bodyguards close, and he’ll get out of any trouble they send his way. So long as you can keep the bonehead from making any more impulsive decisions, the mole’s going to get more and more desperate until they do something stupid.”

Khun’s eyebrows have been rising with every word of that little speech, and now sit at the edge of his hairline. “Did I just hear you compliment the bodyguards? I think I even caught a whole feeling for Kinn hidden in there!”

“Shut up.”

Khun gasps, gleeful. “I’m discovering all kinds of new depths to you today, little brother.”

“Shut up.”

Khun cackles, alight with the special brand of bullying love only an older sibling can accomplish. “Don’t be so put out, littlest brother, this is excellent development for your character archetype!” Kim sighs, long-suffering, and Khun cackles again.

“You could always distract me from updating your character sheets by telling me what you’re actually snooping for,” Khun offers generously.

“Or you could make it up to me by telling me the holes you’ve uncovered in Kinn’s security,” Kim counters.

Khun beams. “A tempting offer. But I asked first.”

“This is not how Papa taught us to negotiate,” Kim retorts. Khun settles his chin on his folded hands, cheerfully stubborn, and Kim concedes to the inevitable with a hopelessly fond grin.

“You’re right. Porsche doesn’t have anything to do with the mole or the minor family trouble. His little jungle jaunt could’ve been a double bluff, but it doesn’t fit his character—he’s too open with his loyalties.” Khun snorts, confirming Kim’s suspicions, and Kim’s smile drops. “What I can’t wrap my head around is why Papa hired him.”

“Not everything is a conspiracy Kim,” Khun cautions. But it doesn’t sound like a disagreement.

And Khun had poached Porsche for his own security only two weeks into his employment, without anyone batting an eye.

Kim studies his brother carefully. “Uncle’s investigating Porsche too.”

Khun straightens, eyes gleaming. “Oh?”

Kim tries not to look too smug. It’s satisfying knowing something Khun doesn’t. “Vegas started making inquiries about Porsche too early to just be yanking Kinn’s chain. And you know how protective he is of Macau.”

Khun presses prayer hands to his lips, humming thoughtfully. “He’s playing with his food"—Kim raises his eyebrow, and Khun tips his head in agreement—“but he’s building up to a bigger climax than a revenge narrative calls for.” Kim takes a minute to parse that sentence while Khun turns the situation over in his mind. “So Uncle knows Papa has a special interest in our Porsche, but he doesn’t know what. Hmm.”

“Yuhp,” Kim says, popping the ‘p’. His brow crinkles, and he can’t keep the frustration from leaking into his voice as he says, “It’s just…weird. Porsche caused a lot of upheaval when he was hired, but he’s a loose cannon. Papa loves control—if he wanted someone to make useful chaos to take advantage of, why hire someone as wild as Porsche?”

“Method acting?” Khun suggests.

“Ehh.” Kim had considered that too, but… “Kinn’s fascination makes for a good cover—and Porsche is so irritating that everyone’s too distracted to look deeper—but Papa wants Porsche in the family. There’s no sign to suggest he was looking to hire a troublemaker before Kinn found Porsche, and Porsche isn’t skilled enough to fit Papa’s normal hiring pattern. So why him?”

Khun’s frowning as well. “Papa seems to be discouraging the romantic subplot between Kinn and Porsche, but…”

Yeah.

But.

Khun hums and starts ticking off fingers. “So, you’ve gone through the background check, Papa, and the younger brother,” he lists, holding up a finger for each. He cocks his head and wiggles the finger he’d held up for Chay pointedly, even wiggling his eyebrows.

Kim rolls his eyes. “Don’t bring your shipping tendencies into this,” he mutters, with just a little too much bite. A muscle flexes in his jaw and he digs his nails into the meat of his palm, hard.

Kim has university friends. Emphasis on university. He gets his moments of simple peace and joy with them, but he knows better than to get close. It’s too addicting of a lie, and far too fragile to stand up to the blood and violence so interwoven with his family. He’d known what he was doing blurring the line to get close to Chay, but it’s been that much harder to remember it’s all pretend since.

Khun just stares at him, unimpressed, but grants him mercy. “I saw you perk up when Chay started talking about his parents.”

Kim swallows and nods. “Did you see the police report on how they died?” Khun frowns and waggles his hand in a so-so motion—yes, but he doesn’t remember it. “Died in a car crash, case dismissed because they were hit by someone rich?”

“Oh yes, I remember.” Khun wrinkles his nose at the memory. “Very sloppy.”

Kim rubs his lower lip in thought. “According to it, it was only the parents in the car, on their way to Suvarnabhumi Airport for a short trip.”

“Hm, odd! But those inconsistencies could be linked to a lot of different things, many of which could be from a regular cover-up. Don’t make tigers out of grass shadows, or however the saying goes.”

Kim huffs at the reminder. “It’s thin,” Kim agrees, “but it’s the only thing that makes sense at the moment. I can’t see any reason why Papa would be interested in Porsche, or even Chay, specifically, if there isn’t a deeper connection between our parents and theirs. If their parents’ deaths do link back to the family, but couldn’t be erased with the normal means, so they changed a few details and then covered it up with what seems to be typical police corruption…”

“Ooh, very sneaky,” Khun says, sounding approving. “That seems too convenient, for this, but I’m going to have to remember that idea for the future.”

Kim snorts. “Bet.”

Khun wiggles his eyebrows to seal the deal. The cheer slides off his face as he turns back to his fingers and wags them contemplatively. “You think there was something between our parents, and you’re investigating through Chay…?”

Kim bristles and has to bite back his first snap back to that. Khun arches an eyebrow, and Kim scowls at him defiantly. “You know they have an uncle?”

Khun looks unimpressed. “Mhmm. Young, sole guardian and living relative to Porsche and Chay, interestingly bare in the background check department.”

Kim wrinkles his nose before he can stop himself. He’d noticed the oddity too. Chay’s said precious little about his uncle so far, but the bits he did let slip… “Quite the deadbeat. A lot of shaky short-term employment, usually losing any savings to some multi-level marketing scheme or another on the side, and a lot of gambling. Porsche took over his bills as well when he started working, and their uncle spent more time looking after Chay.”

“Ah…you’re thinking your Chay might know more about his parents than he realises, depending on what his uncle chose to divulge.” Kim tilts his head in a gesture that’s half-nod, half-resignation, with a small wry grimace. Khun purses his lips in a thoughtful frown. “Why not go right to their uncle?”

Kim’s nails scratch against his palm, but his face stays carefully blank. He’d love to have a chat with the man that regularly brought enforcers to Chay’s doorstep, but the man’s a true rat. “He disappeared the night before Porsche was hired. The trail is too messy for him to have been disappeared, but someone helped obscure it. I’d rather not kick up any rocks until I have more to go on.”

“Interesting. The uncle might reappear for the third act yet.” Khun wiggles his final two fingers thoughtfully. “Friends and previous employment?”

“Not much to follow-up with through Porsche’s friends. Or Chay’s, the two of them mostly kept to themselves. Porsche’s friends are mostly people he met in university, so it’s unlikely any of them became his confidantes.” Kim tilts his head towards Khun. A grin begins to pull at his lips. “But he got his job too young.”

Khun gasps theatrically. “So either he lied on his application, or someone close to their family lent a helping hand.” He matches Kim’s sly grin. “I take it you haven't dug into this line of inquiry yet?”

Kim shrugs, faux nonchalant. “I’ve been to Hum Bar once or twice, but only as a customer. I don’t want my inquiries to make it back to Porsche, but the people I’ve sent in so far have produced…less than adequate results. The employees are very loyal to each other there.”

“Hmm!” Khun preens and rolls back his shoulders regally. All that’s missing is an ostentatiously feathered cloak. “How lucky for you then that you know one of Yok’s regulars who's also a known friend of Porsche’s.”

Kim laughs. It’s a pity Khun’s bodyguards can’t act for shit—he’ll just have to settle for Khun’s performance notes after the fact.

Khun’s phone lights up with a message, and Kim arches a brow when he notes the time. “I see you’ve managed to time this perfectly. We have just enough time to get your gossipy bodyguards up here before they start to get suspicious, and you still haven’t yet told me about any of your investigations.”

Khun pats Kim’s knee sympathetically, his kindly elder demeanor entirely ruined by his loud snicker. “Oh baby brother, you still have so much left to learn.”

Kim kicks at him playfully. The impulse takes him by surprise—it’s like they’re kids again, raising hell around the breakfast table. Kim swallows back the pang of nostalgia. “Still trying to get me to visit home more often, hmm?”

“Hah! If I wanted to wrestle an eel, I’d build an aquarium.”

Kim wrinkles his nose at the comparison and kicks at Khun again, this time with feeling. “Maybe I’ll take advantage of your newfound nightlife and take a surprise detour through your rooms. Got any giant selfies I should keep an eye out for?”

Khun scoffs and kicks back at him. “My dear little brother, I’m offended by the very notion that I would have something as tacky as an oversized framed selfie in my own living space.” Khun settles back into his seat with a haughty sniff, suddenly looking every inch a king upon a throne, even as he slides those ridiculous sunglasses back on his nose.

“My selfies hide my backup drives. Obviously I commissioned an artist to paint my portrait to hide my actual notes board.” Khun pauses and taps his finger on the couch arm once. From this angle, the gold beading of his glove looks like a signet ring. “I posed with a leopard.”

Kim buries his face in his hand and laughs, unrestrained and free.