Chapter Text
chapter one, timeline: pre-canon
happiness is when I get to see my brother {unknown}
„What’s this?“
Vegas throws the brightly colored pamphlet on the table, the aggressive act an accusation itself. The student on the brochure cover is beaming up at them, showing a grin so bright, it couldn’t be anything but artificial. Gun Theerapanyakul, second chief of the resident mafia clan, shoots his son an unimpressed look.
Someone clears their throat.
Uncaring about the spectators, Vegas and his father continue their silent stand-off, neither willing to budge. Then, after some seconds had passed without him getting a verbal response, Vegas admits defeat. Between the two of them, it’s always him who breaks first.
Vegas turns to the other two men in the office. Somsaa and Fern Cherinsuk.
The brothers are occupying the seats opposite from his father. A black suitcase is lying on the mahogany desk, creating a barrier between the two parties. In the back of his mind, Vegas remembers the reason for their visit. The brothers had started working for their family over a decade ago. Throughout the years they’d opened several shops in their territory, making good money for the clan. Last month they requested a meeting with his father, their unofficial boss, to talk about an expansion. They were supposed to give a report today, listing the incomes and expenses of all existing stores. Depending on how good their numbers turned out to be, his father would decide if it was worth an investment. If the figures didn’t live up to his expectations, the brothers’ business might as well be closed. The Cherinsuk brothers knew about the possibility, still, they decided to take the risk. They arranged a meeting, which would determine the outcome of their future. And this meeting, Vegas had now interrupted.
“Excuse us.”, his father dismisses the men easily. “Me and my son have a few things to discuss.”
His father’s tone is friendly, but the eyes lingering on Vegas are cold. They hadn’t left him since he’d barged so carelessly into the room.
The Cherinsuks share a displeased frown. Vegas father hadn’t set a date for a second meeting. Despite this, there isn’t a single word of protest. The brothers grab their suitcase and leave with a polite bow. The bodyguard standing watch outside closes the door with a respectful nod.
Once they are alone, his father let’s out a low hiss.
“What do you think you’re doing?”, he snarls, expression thunderous.
“I should be asking that!”, Vegas replies with an equally dark look. He pushes the pamphlet closer to his father. It slides smoothly across the polished mahogany table. His father glances at the brochure, but he doesn’t make a move to pick it up. He only stares at the smiling student and colorfully printed text.
>> MBA PROGRAM - HEC Paris // Number 1 Business School of Europe <<
“Well?”, Vegas asks, when the silence gets too loud to bear.
His father clears his throats, then says: “Your mother and I’ve been talking.”
“Stepmother.”
The objection leaves Vegas’ lips immediately, but his father pays him no mind.
“The HEC Paris is one of the most respected business schools in the world. The management programs from the local universities cannot compare.”, he continues as if not hearing him. With a slow, careful movement, he straightens his cravat. “We’re considering sending your brother there once the summer break is over.”
“Pa!”, Vegas shouts, stepping forward until he’s stopped by the desk. “Macau’s supposed to start his freshman year next month.”
Vegas can hear the barely suppressed anger in his own voice and grits his teeth. Quickly he puts his trembling hands on the table, fingers digging into the hardwood. Vegas forces himself to keep still, to not make a scene. His father never reacted well to accusations – baseless or not.
Vegas’ gaze returns to the pamphlet on the table and he wishes, it would burst into flames. Erased, just like that. It would make everything so much easier.
His father makes a dismissive sound, disdain clearly written on his face.
“Macau’s grades are acceptable at best, and his chosen major is a joke.”, he says, “Spending the next four years studying photography will not help our family.”
“That’s why you want to send him to some elite school abroad, a whole continent away from home?” Vegas cannot believe it. “Because you don’t like his major? Because his grades aren’t good enough for you?”
Just because he isn’t good enough for you?
His father’s balled fist hits the table without warning, the sound echoing loudly through the room. Still, neither Vegas’ nor his father’s bodyguards enter the office. They know better by now. Not that his father ever cares if witnesses are around when he’s lecturing his sons.
“Watch your tone, boy.”
The rage in his father’s voice overpowers his own anger. Vegas flinches back. He bites his lips until the skin tears. Instinctively, Vegas swallows the blood.
“This will be good for Macau. Maybe he'll finally get those absurd ideas about art school out of his head. Photography, ridiculous. How is that supposed to help our family? Our business?”
His father shakes his head. The frown on his face gets even darker, if possible.
“Kim, at least, had enough common sense to mold himself into an actual celebrity. His status as musical prodigy will be useful for the clan. But what’s my son doing? Posting pictures online, like some tourist. And now he even wants to study it! That boy, honestly …”
For a moment, Vegas doesn’t say anything. He can only stare at his father, lips pressed tightly together and quietly seething with anger. He can still taste the blood in his mouth.
How can you say that? Macau loves photography, it’s one of the last things that connects him to Ma, one of the few things, he takes joy in. Please don’t take this away from him!
Vegas cannot breathe life into the words. A small, bitter part in him already knows that their father won’t accept such reasoning. Vegas needs a better motive for keeping Macau home, for letting him pursue his choice of study.
The worst part was, that if their father asked him to, Macau would never take a single photo again.
If there was one thing the brothers had in common, it was the frantic desire to please their father, to earn his approval, no matter the cost.
Vegas is sure that his father can read the conflicting emotions on his face.
“You should be happy, honestly.”, the man says. “You’re always telling me that Macau’s too young for the business, that we should keep him out of our affairs. Well, now you’ll get your wish. Macau will be spending the next years in Europe, a safe distance away from our work and the danger it brings.”
Vegas grits his teeth.
There was only one place, Vegas deemed safe enough for Macau and that was right by his side.
“Even if Macau leaves the country, it doesn’t mean that he’s safe. What about the foreign clans? What if they attack him? We won’t have enough time to react.”
The thought alone makes bile rise in this throat. Vegas cannot bear to see Macau in pain. His father doesn’t share the same concerns, according to his dismissive response.
“He’ll have his bodyguards with him.”
“Bodyguards can be bought off.”, Vegas replies, speaking from experience. “Especially ones working out of country.”
“We’re paying them good money. The chances of our men turning against us are next to none.”
Vegas shakes his head.
“It’s too risky. Macau’s an easy target. What if the same thing happens to him as Tankhun? Do you want him to get kidnapped, Pa?”
“Of course not, Vegas.”, his father replies.
A long-drawn sigh escapes the man’s lips, and he begins massaging his temples. For once, Vegas doesn’t care about his father’s dismissive attitude. He wouldn’t back down, not this time.
“You cannot send Macau away. It’s too dangerous.”, Vegas repeats.
“You’re worrying too much. Don’t you remember your own studies abroad?”, his father asks. “You spent a whole year in America and nothing happened to you. And you were even younger than Macau is now.”
“Yes, but I was prepared to defend myself.”, Vegas answers.
He would have killed any man stupid enough to threaten him, foreigner or not. Vegas might have been young, but not young enough. By the time he started his gap year in the United States, he’d already killed his first man. His father was well aware of this fact, it was him, who requested the murder. One last lesson his son had to learn before leaving the country.
When Vegas was confronted with the idea of studying overseas, for the very first time, he didn’t complain. Kinn had done it too, after all. His cousin had absolved one foreign business course after another – passing the exams with flying colors – until Vegas’ father had had enough and forced him to attend the same universities, with twice as many courses.
Although Vegas had worried about Macau’s safety – he would always worry about his little brother, no matter their age – he didn’t protest. Their mother had still been alive, back then. A warm presence in their lives, protecting and nurturing.
Now their mother was dead and Vegas wouldn’t leave the country, not without Macau.
The same could be applied in reverse.
Vegas wouldn’t allow Macau to be shipped off to another continent, just because their father wanted him out of the way. Where was this idea even coming from? Pa might be constantly complaining about his little brother, requesting for Vegas to involve him in their work, but he never hinted at the possibility of sending him to a school abroad.
It was a harebrained scheme, to be honest.
Sending Macau away would leave them open for attack, he could always be used against their family. Looking at it from a detached perspective, it just didn’t make sense. Everyone with a brain could tell. So why was Pa considering this ridiculous idea?
Vegas doesn’t have to think long, before everything gets clear.
There was one person, who absolutely hated their presence, who loathed both Vegas and Macau.
„This was her idea, wasn‘t it?”, Vegas asks. He doesn’t elaborate who he’s talking about, it was obvious enough. Their stepmother had never liked them. Well, the feeling was mutual. Vegas will never understand how his father could have developed feelings for a woman as vile as her, the complete opposite of their deceased mother.
“I don’t think she’s the best person to give you advice.”, Vegas says, a bitter feeling rising in his chest. How could his father listen to the words of that woman, but completely disregard his own son? “What could she possible know about our family? She wasn’t born into this life. She can’t possible-“
“VEGAS!”, their father bellows. “You dare question me?”
Forcefully, his father stands up. The chair makes a screeching noise due to the hasty movement.
“I just wanted to-“
“Don’t interrupt me, Vegas! Why are you so disrespectful? Didn’t I teach you any manners?”
Again, Vegas has to bite his tongue in order to keep silent. He lowers his gaze to the ground. Ever since he barged into his father’s meeting – no, even before that, ever since he found the brochure lying innocently on the kitchen counter, for everyone to see, for Macau to see – a tight feeling had taken hold of his chest. The sensation had only gotten worse with every passing minute, with each spoken word. Raw anger was simmering beneath his skin, scorching and hot. It was taking all his willpower to keep the emotions in check.
His father closes the distance between them silently. Once he’s standing directly in front of Vegas, he barks out a harsh command.
“Look at me, boy.”
Vegas knows what will happen next. Still, he raises his head instantly, the need to obey his father forever engrained in his mind. His father’s fist connects with his cheek. The force of the blow forces Vegas’ head to the side. He can barely suppress a pained hiss.
“I’m the head of this household, the leader of the second family. I’ve been doing this work for decades. I’ve never known anything else. I’ve never wanted anything else.” His father’s growls, voice getting louder and louder, until he’s basically shouting in Vegas’ face. “Is it wrong to want the same devotion from my children? My own flesh and blood? Am I asking too much of you, Vegas?”
Vegas blinks.
Although the slap had left a painful sting behind, it’s his father’s words, which cause him the most pain.
Vegas opens his mouth, then closes it again. He doesn’t know what to say. Surely his father knows that Vegas is loyal to their cause, that he would stop at nothing to make him proud.
But that isn’t completely true either, is it? Vegas would sacrifice everything for the sake of their family, for his father – absolutely everything.
Everything, but Macau.
His father watches him, then sighs in disappointment. For Vegas, the sound is more painful than a knife to the chest. Still, he pushes the hurt aside and focuses on the reason why he decided to face his father’s wrath in the first place.
“You cannot send Macau to France.”, he says.
“You’re still arguing, boy?”, his father wants to know, head shaking. “Unbelievable. One son worse than the other.”
His father mutters the words to himself, but they are loud enough for Vegas to hear.
„Pa.“, he repeats, this time with more force in his voice. „Please, just listen to me.”
For a moment, his father only looks at him – eyes furrowed, arms crossed over his chest. His whole posture shows his distaste. Vegas is about to repeat his request, but then his father nods.
“Fine, enlighten me.”, he says, gaze challenging. “What do you think will happen next?”
“Macau’s not going to France.” His father doesn’t look happy hearing this, but thankfully stays silent. Vegas doesn’t let himself be deterred and continues his speech smoothly. His words show more confidence than he actually feels. “Macau will attend one of the local universities, just as originally planned. After he completes his photography major, we will look at the different job options and see which one’s are most suitable for our business. Whatever work Macau likes best, he will pursuit.”
“And why would I agree to that?”, his father wants to know.
“Because it won’t make a difference either way.”
His father furrows his brows. The confusion is plainly written on his face.
“You don’t need him, Pa.”, Vegas continues in a soft tone. He thinks about blood and bruised knuckles, broken bones and harsh words. And Macau. Sweet, innocent Macau. He doesn’t want to associate his little brother with those things. Not in this lifetime, not in the next. “It’s just as you said. Macau’s not good for the business. It doesn’t make sense to force him into this work, it’s too late for that. He’ll never be any good at it.”
His father makes a thoughtful sound.
Finally, Vegas is getting through to him.
“You’re right.”, his father says after a moment of complementation. “Macau is useless to me.”
The word echoes in his head.
Useless, useless, useless.
Those are not his words. Vegas would never call Macau useless. Never.
Words of complaint bubble in his chest, but Vegas forces them down. His inner voice is screaming to defend his little brother, to protect him from his father’s accusations, but he can’t.
Father is finally listening to him. Vegas can’t throw the chance away.
He had to remain calm, at least until he got what he wanted.
“So what do you propose, Vegas?”, his father asks.
“I’m your heir.”, Vegas says. “I’ll take over the business, as soon as you’ll see fit. You can leave everything to me – the dirty work, the business deals, my cousins. Everything.”
His father arches an eyebrow.
“And Macau?”
Vegas takes a deep breath.
“Him too.”, he says. “Leave Macau to me. From now on, I’ll take care of my brother.”
Just like he’s always done, ever since their beloved mother died. In reality, nothing would change. Father had to know that. Now he was only arguing for arguing’s sake.
“Macau isn’t one of your pets, Vegas. He’s your brother.”, his father says. “And my son.”
He adds the last word almost like an afterthought.
“I know that, Pa.”, Vegas replies. “But with me in charge, neither you nor your wife will have to waste time on him anymore. I’ll be solely responsible for Macau. Whatever he says, whatever he does, it will be on me. In exchange, I’ll get to decide what happens to him.”
His father looks at the pamphlet on the table, then back at Vegas. His gaze is thoughtful. He is considering the proposal.
“I don’t know Vegas.”, his father states after thinking it over. “You’ve been neglecting your duties recently. You spend awfully much time on your little playthings. Kinn’s already doing work for his father, oversees business deals and forms connections with other gangs. He is way ahead of you. Adding Macau to your list of responsibilities ... he’ll be another distraction, another way for you to fall behind.”
“No, Pa. Looking after Macau won’t change a thing. He won’t affect my work. I promise.”
“I mean it, Pa.”, Vegas assures, when he doesn’t get an immediate answer. “I’ll be the picture-perfect heir. Macau will not affect me.”
At least not in the way you think.
Vegas had spent a long time worrying over Macau’s future. Vegas’ little brother was young and soft. He still radiated a warmth that Vegas had already lost, maybe never had to begin with. He wanted a better life for Macau. A normal life.
And now, the future he wished his brother to have, was finally within reach. The only thing missing was his father’s approval.
So Vegas waits and doesn’t say anything.
And then, after a long stretch of silence, his father agrees.
“Fine.”, he says. “We’re doing it your way. But you better keep your promises. At the next family meeting, I want them to treat you as Kinn’s equal, understand? Don’t disappoint me.”
“Yes, Pa.”, Vegas nods. The corners of his mouth twitch upwards, forming a barely visible smile.
His father shoots him one last, unreadable look, then turns around. Before exiting the office, the man stops for a last time. His fingers are already touching the doorknob.
“Vegas.”, his father speaks, back still facing him. “Don’t tell Macau about this. I don’t want him throwing a temper tantrum over misplaced feelings.”
His father leaves before Vegas can respond. With a forceful movement he opens the door. Startled, the bodyguard on watch moves to the side. A second later and the man would have been hit by the wooden door. Gun Theerapanyakul doesn’t pay his bodyguard any mind. With purposeful steps he strides down the corridor, most likely on the search for his missing guests. The bodyguard shoots a confused look at Vegas, then runs after his boss.
Vegas waits until he cannot hear their footsteps anymore, then he leaves too.
The pamphlet is no longer lying on the table.
~
There’s a confusing swirl of emotions in his chest; fear, because he defied his father – how dare he? how dare he? how dare he? what an ungrateful son -; satisfaction, of getting his will; confusion, because he’s taking pride in his father’s loss. And then there’s the anger. Anger, because he had to fight for Macau in the first place. Anger, because his father treated his sons more like chess pieces than real children. Anger, because he’s helpless and weak against his father’s wrath and there’s nothing he can do about it – because he’s never enough, he’ll never be enough. Anger. Anger. Anger. There’s so much of it.
The feelings won’t leave Vegas alone.
The itch beneath his skin gets worse and worse. He needed an outlet for all these feelings. He needed to break something – or someone.
Only violence would quieten the confusing swirl of thoughts in his head.
Vegas grabs his car keys and leaves the estate.
~
When Vegas returns home, it’s long past midnight.
There’s light coming from the dining room.
Curious, Vegas opens the door.
At first glance, the room appears vacant. There’s not a single staff member in sight, or even a bodyguard. The chairs surrounding the dining table are empty. The sofa by the window is also bare, not counting the huge pile of blankets lying on it.
Vegas turns to the side. The glimmer of light he’d seen through the door is coming from a single lamp. It’s standing innocently on the countertop, flickering slightly once Vegas takes a step closer.
“Not ominous at all.”, Vegas mumbles into the quietness of the room.
As if on cue, a dull sound can be heard from next door followed by a low string of curses. Seconds later the door is being pushed open. It bumps loudly against the wall. Vegas draws his gun.
“Oh, fuck …”
Through narrowed eyes he watches the newcomer, who’s walking towards the kitchen counter, without noticing him. Vegas clears his throat. The figure flinches and spins around.
Vegas greets his little brother with a sigh.
“Oh, fuck!”, Macau curses again, this time louder than before.
Vegas shoots him an unimpressed look. Slowly, a sheepish smile appears on Macau’s face.
“What are you doing here? Why are you still up?”, his brother asks, easily switching into their mothers’ favorite language. When it was just the two of them, they preferred talking like this. It made them not only feel close to their mother, but also each other.
“Shouldn’t I be asking that?”, Vegas asks and points to the kitchen entrance, the door is still standing wide open.
Before Macau can answer, another loud pinging noise comes from next door. His brother’s face lights up.
“Food!”
And with that he’s off. Head shaking, Vegas looks after him. While Macau is busy in the other room, Vegas puts his gun away. By the time Macau returns to the room, the weapon is out of sight.
His little brother doesn’t pay him any mind. He immediately takes a seat by the kitchen counter and starts digging in. Exasperated, Vegas follows. He heaves himself on the bar stool opposite from Macau, the counter staying between them. Vegas narrows his eyes, instantly regretting his seating choice. He wants to be closer to his brother.
“Want some?”, Macau asks and offers Vegas his spoon.
Vegas looks at the food on the counter. Microwave macaroni with cheese.
Macau, the little monster, is eating it right out of the package.
Vegas shoots him a judgmental look. Suddenly, he’s glad for the distance between them.
“Suit yourself.”, his brother mumbles and takes another bite.
“Where’s Tatcha?”, Vegas asks once he has enough of silently watching Macau devour his food like some half-starved animal.
Macau’s head bodyguard should be on clock today, if Vegas remembers correctly. He hadn’t seen the man when he returned to the estate. Neither outside nor inside the house. There was no sign of the man.
“Please don’t tell me he made the food for you.”, he adds pleadingly.
Vegas wouldn’t put it past the bodyguard to be hiding in the kitchen right now. Tatcha was a good bodyguard – one of the best, else he wouldn’t have been entrusted with Macau’s safety. But the skill he was lacking the most was preparing edible food. The other bodyguards on the estate had enough grips to make a decent coffee or at least some sandwiches, should their bosses ever be in the mood for it.
Tatcha had problems with cutting a single slice of toast.
Him making Macau an instant meal, though, was in the realm of possibility. Vegas hadn’t seen him handle pre-cooked food till now. Maybe he’s actually good at it … not that it was something to be proud of.
Vegas made a mental note to talk with one of their cooks tomorrow. In the future they should prepare several types of food and put it into the fridge before leaving work. If Macau was ever in the mood for a midnight snack, he would have immediate access to home-cooked cuisine and not be forced to eat some cheap and barely edible instant meals.
Macau answers his question between mouthfuls of food.
“What?”, Vegas repeats, not understanding a single word.
“Sleeping.”, Macau says, once he’s done eating. With a satisfied smile, he pushes the empty package away. Vegas can see a lonely noodle clinging to the spoon. Yes, that’s his little brother, a wild animal, indeed.
He makes a disgusted sound, then Macau’s words break through to him.
“What?!”, Vegas asks, voice harsh. The anger isn’t directed at his brother.
“Don’t be mad at him!”, Macau says, his gaze pleading. “We spent the whole day in town, taking photos. It was really exhausting! Besides, Tatcha’s an old man by now. He cannot keep up like he used to.”
“Tatcha’s thirty-two years old.”, Vegas replies with a deadpan look on his face.
“Exactly!”, Macau agrees, nodding. “He’s old.”
Vegas decides to ignore the words. He’s also in his twenties. He doesn’t want to know what Macau has to say about that.
“You’re old too, bro.”, Macau says, immediately knowing his thoughts. “But don’t worry, you haven’t reached grandpa-levels yet.”
That damn brat.
“Tatcha’s getting paid for this. It’s his job to look after you, not sleep.”
Macau mumbles something under his breath.
“What was that?”, Vegas asks and flicks Macau’s forehead.
“Ouch!”
His brother sends him an indignant look, rubbing the sore spot. An exaggerated moan of pain leaves his lips. Aside from an amused look, Vegas doesn’t react. His little brother was such a baby sometimes.
As if on cue, Macau’s lips form a pout – annoyed at his lack of concern.
He presses his head between his hands, squishing his cheeks.
“I’m not a little kid.”, he mutters, the words muffled. “I can make food without my bodyguard.”
Vegas cannot help himself. He starts to laugh. This is the happiest he felt the whole week.
“Bro … are you laughing at me?” Macau shoots him a betrayed look. “Asshole!”
“Don’t call me asshole.”, Vegas immediately says.
“Then stop being one!”, Macau replies.
Vegas shakes his head, but the expression on his face is fond.
Another soft chuckle leaves his lips.
It gets quiet in the room.
Macau coughs into his hand.
“So …”, his little brother says.
“So…?”
Vegas shoots him an encouraging smile, patiently waiting for his brother to voice his thoughts.
“Do you want to see the pictures?”
Wide-eyed, Macau blurts out the question. Surprised by his brother’s sudden shout, Vegas pulls farther back into his seat. A blush rises on Macau’s cheeks. Embarrassed, his brother looks away, avoiding Vegas’ gaze.
“Yes.”
The word leaves Vegas lips without prompting.
Instantly, Macau turns around.
“Yes?”
“Yes.”, Vegas repeats with a smile. “Show me your photos.”
Macau doesn’t need further prodding. As soon as Vegas agrees, he’s out of his seat. Amused, Vegas watches as he runs to the dark green sofa standing in front of the windows. With a strangely careful and slow motion, Macau pushes the blankets aside. Beneath them is Tatcha, dead sleep.
“What the fuck?”, Vegas mutters.
“Psssht!”
Macau shushes him with a wave, then moves closer to the bodyguard. Tatcha’s holding something against his chest, grip secure even when unconscious. After a short moment of prying, Macau manages to snatch the object. Any confidence Vegas had about the bodyguards’ skillset leaves him immediately. Tatcha hadn’t noticed a single thing. The man’s still fast asleep when Macau leaves his side.
Head shaking, Vegas watches his brother return to the kitchen counter. As he gets closer, Vegas can identify the mysterious item. It’s the HASSELBLAD 907X – Macau’s favorite camera. Vegas had gotten it for his last birthday. His brother had been so happy, he’d started crying on the spot, although he later denied it, claiming some dust had gotten into his eyes. It was one of Vegas’ fondest memories.
“You ready?”, Macau asks after switching on the camera. Vegas nods. Macau puts the camera on the kitchen counter right between them, so Vegas has easy access to it. Macau starts showing him picture after picture – explaining in detail where he’d taken them all and what exactly Vegas was supposed to see. Vegas doesn’t mind the insults directed his way – that’s not just a tree, bro. look at the lights, the colors, the angles! you really don’t have a clue about art at all, that’s so sad! – or the rambling – do you see the old lady? she looks awfully like Tankhun, poor woman! –; He’s just happy to get this moment, to have Macau talk so openly about his passions, not afraid of showing his joy in front of his brother.
Vegas desperately hopes that this will never change.
Unwillingly, a sappy smile forms on his lips.
Macau stops talking.
“What’s with the look?”, he wants to know.
Vegas only shakes his head in response, not saying anything at all. He’s embarrassed at being caught in the act. If his little brother finds out the reason for his staring, he’ll be teased to death.
“Are you tired?”, Macau asks concerned, mistaking his awkwardness for fatigue. “I didn’t mean to keep you up for so long. Sorry.”
Macau starts fiddling with the camera, a guilty expression on his face.
“I’m not tired.”, Vegas says, although he can feel the exhaustion in his bones. It has been a long day. Still, he wants to stay in the moment for a bit longer. It’s been a while since he and Macau got to spend time alone together, without bodyguards or their father around.
Macau doesn’t seem to believe him. His eyes dart from the doorway to Vegas and then back again.
“Go to bed, old man”, Macau insists. “Before you keel over and die.”
“Who are you calling old?”, Vegas asks, but stands up anyway.
Vegas can see the disappointment in Macau’s eyes, although his little brother tries to hide it. Macau’s never been any good at concealing his true feelings – another endearing trait.
Instead of leaving the room, Vegas moves around the kitchen counter, until he’s standing directly by Macau’s side. His brother shoots him a confused look.
“Scoot over.”, Vegas says and forces himself into the seat right next to Macau.
Macau glances between Vegas and the camera.
“Sure you don’t want to go sleep?”, he asks once again, but there’s already a smile forming on his face. His brother already knows what his answer will be.
“Yes!”, Vegas confirms. With a grin, he nods to the camera, which is showcasing a picture of a little, green frog sitting on the hood of a car. “Now, c’mon. What’s up with the picture? Why’s Tatcha crying in the background? Tell me the whole story.”
They go through all photos Macau had taken that day.
When Vegas leaves for his bedroom, the sun is rising on the horizon.
~
Breakfast is a quiet affair. Usually it’s just Vegas and Macau – and some of their bodyguards.
Today, their father’s gracing them with his presence.
Followed by a gaggle of guards, he enters the room and takes the seat at the head of the table. Seconds later, the servants arrive and bring out several breakfast trays.
Once all dishes have been laid out by the maids, his father breaches the topic.
“Macau.”
His brother drops his fork and directs all his attention to their father.
“Yes, Pa?”
“Summer break is almost over.”, their father says. “Which means your studies will start soon.”
“Uh, yeah?”
There’s apprehension in Macau’s tone. Vegas knows that he’s worried about Pa rejecting his choice of studies, that he’ll force him to give up photography. Vegas isn’t sure if his brother has seen the pamphlet of the French business university. He hopes not. He already burned the leaflet he’d found yesterday, but there could be more copies laying around the house, courtesy of their stepmother.
Vegas shoots his father a pointed look, but the man ignores him.
He takes a sip of his coffee, then says in a smooth voice: “I’ve been thinking it over. Studying at one of the local universities would be best for you. You can choose the major on your own.”
Vegas sighs, relieved. The action doesn’t go unnoticed. His father glares at him through narrowed eyes, making Vegas straighten his posture.
“What? Really?”, Macau asks in disbelief, not noticing the strange interaction.
Their father nods silently.
“Thanks, Pa!”
Macau is basically vibrating in his seat by now. He turns to Vegas, a bright grin on his face. Vegas returns his brother’s smile with one of his own, though not nearly as brilliant.
“Vegas.”
The smile vanishes, a cool expression takes its place.
“Yes, Pa?”
“Tomorrow evening is a gala at the Even Sunset hotel. Many members of today’s high society will be there, all wealthy and influential. Rumors say that some foreign clan members will also make an appearance. This will be a good opportunity for us to form new connections and make the family stronger. Originally, I planned to go myself, but something else came up, so you’ll go instead.”
His father clears his throat.
“Kinn will also attend. He’ll be presenting the Major Family, at his father’s request.”
Vegas nods. He’d already guessed as much. It wouldn’t make sense for his cousin to skip out on an event as important as this. Especially, when both families are involved.
“Don’t let him outclass you. Make sure both families profit equally.”
There’s a short pause. His father takes another gulp of his coffee. The cup makes an audible chirring noise, when he returns it to the table. Vegas can see a brown stain on the rim, stark against the white of the porcelain.
“Represent our family well, Vegas, or there will be consequences.”
His father is no longer looking at him when he says this. His gaze is on Macau, who’s gone back to eating breakfast while simultaneously playing some game on his phone – all but blind to his surroundings.
Vegas takes a deep breath.
“Of course, Pa.”
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+ BONUS:
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When Tatcha wakes up, he immediately starts to panic. Khun Macau’s most prized possession – the expensive brand camera he’d received from his older brother – is missing. The same can be said for its owner. There was no trace of the boy.
The bodyguard sits up. A glance at his wristwatch tells him that it’s almost midday. Shoot, he’d slept through the whole morning! His shift was supposed to start in an hour!
Frantically, Tatcha pushes the blankets aside, only to halt in his tracks a second later.
Someone’s sitting beside him.
Tatcha’s mouth opens in shock.
Vegas Theerapanyakul, first son of Gun Theerapanyakul and heir of the household, shoots him a grin. With a wine glass in hand, a book on his lap and slouching against the velvet couch he looks like the epitome of elegance and relaxation all in once.
The bodyguard pinches his own cheek, unsure if he’s still asleep. The resulting pain confirms his fears – he’s awake. Awake, and living his worst nightmare! As if being found asleep wasn’t bad enough, it just had to be Khun Vegas, who caught him in the act. Khun Vegas – the protective older brother of his charge, who – according to several sources, including members from the household staff and even bodyguards – spent his free time killing people for sport.
Tatcha doesn’t know if all the stories about the man are true – all the rumors about red rooms, torture dungeons and fake fiancées made his brain hurt – but there’s one thing he’s sure of; the fastest way to get on Khun Vegas’ bad side was by doing something to his little brother.
The bodyguard hadn’t done something to Khun Macau – he would never dare, he was his charge after all and damn it, he’d grown rather fond of the boy over the years – but he also hadn’t done what he was supposed to do, namely looking after the kid.
The heir of the second Theerapanyakul household takes a sip from his drink, gaze still directed at Tatcha. After swallowing the wine, he shoots him another quick smirk. Tatcha isn’t fooled, not one bit. Despite the easy-going attitude, he can feel the danger radiating of the man.
The bodyguard gulps. Inwardly, he’s clapping himself on the back for his fast thinking. Just last week he’d written his will and deposited it in his rooms. His attorney had gotten a copy as well.
“Tatcha.”, he’s greeted at last.
“Khun Vegas!”, Tatcha says with a nervous smile and quickly bows to the man. “Ah, I was just about to leave. Sorry for disturbing you.”
His escape attempts are stopped immediately.
“No need, no need.”, Khun Vegas says. The man puts a hand on Tatcha’s shoulder and presses down, forcing him deeper into his seat. The bodyguard cannot do anything but let it happen. “Your shift hasn’t started yet. You can stay here and catch up on your sleep.”
“Thank you, Khun Vegas. That’s very kind of you!”, he replies with the best smile he can manage. The unknowing observer would probably call it more a grimace than a smile.
Wordlessly, Tatcha observes Khun Vegas. The man rises from the couch in a smooth motion, reminding him of a panther. They were similar enough – both graceful and dangerous. The mafia heir puts the empty wine glass on a nearby coffee table, then walks towards the door.
Tatcha cannot believe it. Escaping the devil’s grasp, was it really that easy …?
“Maybe it’s a test ...”, the thinks to himself. “Maybe Khun Vegas wants to check If I obey his orders and sleep some more or if I go back to my duties and prepare for my next shift? But …. I don’t know the correct answer! What should I do? What should I do??”
Khun Vegas pulls him from his panicked thoughts by calling his name.
“Yes, your majesty? Uh, I meant Khun Vegas!”
Khun Vegas arches an eyebrow. Tatcha can feel himself becoming a stuttering mess. He desperately wants to hide beneath the pile of blankets next to him, but unfortunately, he can’t.
“Yesterday you spent a lot of time with my brother.” Khun Vegas doesn’t acknowledge his nonsense rambling. Small blessings. “The little gremlin dragged you all over the city, didn’t he?”
“I was just doing my duties, Khun Vegas.”, Tatcha replies, shrugging.
“I know.”, the man says. “Good job.”
“… uh, what?”
“You made Macau really happy. Keep it up and we won’t have a problem.”
Khun Vegas shoots the bodyguard a – dare he say – honest smile, making him breathe a sigh of shock.
“Yes, of course, sir. Thank you, sir.”, Tatcha stutters, once he regained his composure.
Without a word of goodbye, Khun Vegas exits the room.
Tatcha sacks against the cushions, mind blank.
What had just happened?
“Oh, and Tatcha?”
A startled scream leaves the bodyguards lips.
Khun Vegas is leaning against the doorway and staring at him.
Gone is the smile and friendly look, instead there’s a cold expression on his face.
“Yes?”, Tatcha manages to ask, voice timid.
“If I ever catch you sleeping again, when you’re supposed to look after my little brother, there’ll be consequences. Maybe we’ll change our routine and I’ll switch you with one of my men. Spending a month as my bodyguard should get you back on track. What do you think?”
“NO!”, he shouts the word instinctively.
Oh god, please, anything but that!
“Uh, I mean, no sir, this won’t happen again. From now on I’ll be rigorous in my duties! You can depend one hundred percent on me. I promise!”, Tatcha hastily tacks on, when he realizes what he’d done.
Refusing his boss’ orders? Has he gone mad!?
Tatcha lowers his head. The bodyguard cannot muster enough courage to look Khun Vegas into the eyes. He might burst into tears.
Uncomfortable silence fills the room.
Internally, Tatcha begins counting.
One
Two
Three
After a whole minute, Tatcha cannot take it anymore. He raises his head, presuming that Khun Vegas had left once more without him noticing.
Khun Vegas is still standing in the doorway, staring at him.
It seems like he’d only been waiting for Tatcha to acknowledge him, because as soon as their gazes cross he nods at him, then leaves. Tatcha can’t do anything but stare after him.
The bodyguard doesn’t dare let his guard down. He stays alert for another five minutes, continuously staring at the entrance. He’s expecting Khun Vegas to return any second now, even if it’s only to make a fool of him again. It doesn’t happen.
After ten more minutes of silently waiting, Tatcha lets out the longest sigh since starting this work, then full body drops onto the couch.
“Heaven have mercy on my poor soul.”, he mutters into a pillow, voice slurred.
“Amen.”, Macau adds from his place behind the kitchen counter, hidden from sight.
Tatcha starts to scream.
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[ CHAPTER 1 END ]
Additional A/N:
Macau’s love for photography was inspired by following image from Pinterest:
https://www.pinterest.at/pin/609182287109014958/
From now on and forever, Macau will be a photography nerd to me :3