Chapter Text
Point.
Pull.
Click.
Gunshot.
Silence.
The world doesn’t instantly go black. It loses the colors and sounds very slowly, until even the echo of his own name is no longer heard. Who was calling him? Porsche? Yes, it was probably Porsche, the person Big hated from the second this man stepped foot inside the mansion, only to end up shielding him from the bullets. Was it karma, irony or a cruel joke of the universe? Big didn’t know but he’d laughed if he could.
Porsche, Porsche, Porsche. So much happened because of him in such a short period of time. The house became noisier, smiles and laughter – brighter and louder and some people – happier. Including Khun Kinn. Especially Khun Kinn.
Big hatred was driven by jealousy. He would never admit it, though, even to himself. He would try to convince himself that every look at Porsche on a mission or during the training just made the feeling of disbelief and bewilderment settle somewhere at the bottom of his stomach. How could such an incompetent person get this job? Why was he position as a head bodyguard instead of him?
This was unbelievable, ridiculous, absurd.
He still didn’t know what both of his bosses saw in this arrogant, disobedient, annoying prick. He wasn’t a killing machine or a loyal dog. He was … average, decent at best. But Porsche definitely was something. Something that put smile back on Kinn’s face and his mind at ease. Something that would soften his expression. Something that made him happy again. Big noticed that. Such drastic changes are hard to miss, especially when you spend so much time with a person, witnessing all the emotions they show and chose not to show. It made Big angry, sad, frustrated. He always wanted this for himself – to be the source of Kinn’s happiness. He’d always known it was impossible, but hoped nonetheless. Turned out, all was in vain. So he jumped. To cover Porsche, to protect someone his boss cherished most in the world. Even if he couldn’t make Kinn happy, he could prevent him from being heartbroken.
The hell with happiness.
*
His eyelids started moving. Gradually, he opened them, which wasn’t a difficult task per se. The real challenge was to keep them that way. A new wave of fatigue hit him almost immediately and this annoying yellow light made his eyes sore. Hold on! Light! There was no longer darkness around him.
“Am I in heaven?” Big thought and chuckled. As if. He wasn’t really a saint, but maybe his last deed had earned him a place at least in the storage room up there.
Then he heard something. A short but distinct beep. Then - after a second or two – another one. And another. Big turned his head, trying to identify where the sound is coming from and saw … a lot of hospital equipment. Those kind of devices that are used to monitor your pulse, heartbeat etc.
Big blinked. Once. Twice. His vision finally cleared. He took one more look around and found himself in a hospital room. That explains the absence of warm natural light. Whoever was in charge of the sky resort would never use this cheap excuse of an illumination.
After a short moment, Big finally sat up, trying to move his arms as little as possible not to disposition all the tubes and needles poking out from him and took a deep breath.
He was alive. Sounds like good news, should be good news, great even. However, there was this weird feeling he couldn’t quite articulate. It was somewhere on the tip of his tongue, you could almost taste it, but …
Being alive felt unnecessary, because his death made sense. Big’s life was taken away the way it was supposed to – while protecting. It wasn’t an honorable or heroic act but a simple duty. For the first time in mounts a mission felt successful, he finally did the job well. But what if he didn’t? What if Tawan was faster? What if Porsche couldn’t escape? What if the others couldn’t make it on time? What if, what if, what if? As selfish as it sounds, being dead would be much easier. There would be no consequences for his failure. But now he had to face the reality, whether he liked it or not.
His train, even an express, of thoughts was interrupted by a sound of an opening door. Big turned his head, prepared to greet his nurse, who was probably already informed that he’d woken up. And at the door stood, indeed, a nurse, but she was not alone. There was Chan right next to her. Big could’ve sworn that his heart skipped a tiny beat, only to drop to the bottom of his stomach. So he did fuck up, failed to protect Porsche. Otherwise, why would Chan show up?
“Thank you. You may leave for now.” said the older man without looking away from Big. The nurse bowed and walked out of the room.
Big felt uncomfortable, nervous. He looked Chan up and down, paying an extra couple of seconds to his face, trying to place the man’s emotion. Unreadable as usual. Something that surprised Big was Chan’s clothes. Instead of his typical all-black suit, he was dressed in a burgundy turtleneck tucked in a pair of black slacks and shiny black Oxfords. The socked matched the color of the sweater. It was not particularly different from his work attire, but felt strange nonetheless. Suited him too, Big noted. Why was he wearing this though? Wasn’t he on-duty? Or did he change?
Unable to hold his gaze for longer, Big blurted: “Is he okay?”
Chan blinked: “Who’s he?”
“Porsche”. Big sighed and went on talking, looking anyone but the other bodyguard. “Is he hurt? Is it serious? I apologize for not being able to properly protect him. I should’ve tried to hold for a couple of moment longer, so he could’ve avoided … ”
“Enough!” Chan said firmly, but a little too loudly.
Big twitched and dared to lock eyes with the other man. His emotions were still impossible to read.
“I’m so-” Big started.
“For God’s sake, drop it!” Chan’s voice was still uncharacteristically high and his tone … concern? Caring? Tired? Maybe even all of that.
“He’s okay, alive and safe. You did a very good job protecting him. Now, stop thinking and try to sleep. Your current first priority is your recovery.”
Big smiled despite himself, a big grin spread across his face. His was so happy and pleased to hear that the mission went according to the plan that suppressing it was impossible. Chan noticed that too and smiled briefly.
“Much better,” he said, patting the younger on the back. “If you need something, let the nurse know.”
“Am I allowed to have visitors?” Big asked, sound relaxed.
“Of course. Who do you need to see?” Chan already knew the answer, unfortunately. With a deep breath, he straightened his posture and prepared himself for the information he was about to give. Big didn’t seem to notice those changes.
“Can I speak with Ken? For ten minutes, so he wouldn’t be absent for too long. Can this be arranged?”
Chan looked at him. He didn’t want to give the younger this information just yet, however, it was better to be straightforward then purposefully avoiding the truth.
Big would find out anyway, so it’d better for him to deal with the betrayal and heartbreak in the safety of a hospital room.
He averted his eyes slightly, now studying the colors and textures of Big’s pillowcase, and said, voice steady: “I wish I didn’t have to say it to you, but no, it can’t be. Ken betrayed us. He was a double agent who worked for a minor family, for Vegas. He screwed up and they killed him.” Chan stopped. It was enough for now. The “gift” the minor family brought to the meeting can remain a secret. For later.
Big opened his mouth and closed it immediately. His face showed all possible emotions despite trying to remain indifferent. Was there anything to say? Should he cry? Scream? Punch something? How do you react when your only friend, the person you relied on the most, walks over everyone who ever trusted him? Big was no new to pain and heartbreak, but it was the most painful slap he’d ever recieved.
“I’m sorry, kid.” Chan put a hand on Big’s shoulder and squeezed it a little in an attempt to provide comfort.
“Nothing to be sorry for, he made his choice.” The other said, trying to appeal unaffected. But he wasn’t. Of course, he was already screaming on the inside, ready to find Ken’s body, bring him back to life only to beat the shit out of him. He wouldn’t kill. Couldn’t.
Chan’s hand remained on his shoulder for a couple of more seconds. He put it away, smiled weakly and reminded to rest as much as possible. Big nodded. The other man left the room and closed the door quietly.
Almost immediately after the door opened again and the nurse came in. She was pushing a trolley with food, two bottles water and medicine. Some of them had to be taken now, the rest – after dinner. Big didn’t really feel like eating, but decided to do it anyway. Recovery is your first priority, a voice echoed at the back of his mind. It was an order and orders must be followed. So Big did what he was best at, what was expected from him.
At first, it seemed that the night would be sleepless. Big had too many thoughts on his mind, almost all of them were about Ken. He wanted to convince himself that it was all a lie, that Chan decided just played this cruel joke on him for some reason and he would see Ken very soon, alive and well and loyal to those who trusted him. He wanted to convince himself, but couldn’t. As always, he blamed himself. Blamed that he hadn’t paid attention to changes in Ken behavior or him being away at night sometimes. Had there actually been anything to notice? Or was he trying to make things up just to feel guilty? The second seemed more likely. Luckily, Big was too tired to keep his brain occupied. He closed his eyes, and after a couple of minutes a sounds of quite snoring were heard in the room. He was even dreaming.
In the morning, he recalled fragments of a dream. Or a nightmare. He was standing at the bottom of a lake, both deep and dried out, surrounded by tall rocks. He tried climbing one of them over and over again, desperate to get out. Almost at the top, he was greeted with a hand, reaching out to help him. Big grabbed it with both his, holding and clutching tightly. The hand pulled him closer, only to push away with such force that kicked air out of his lungs. He lost his balance and started falling, body hitting all the dull and sharp edges on the way down.
The last thing he heard was a distinct loser.