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It was a day like any other in the second family house. At eight o’clock, Pete arose, made the bed, and went into the en suite bathroom to take his morning shower. Despite his recent unemployment status, rendering him free to sleep in for however long he desired, Pete found that he couldn’t shake off his old routine. He couldn’t remember the last time he had slept in after eight –his most fresh memory came from his high school days, when he could stay in bed for however long he wanted on weekends. After graduating and moving to Bangkok to make a living for himself and his grandparents back home, starting with his random part-time jobs to his career as Tankhun’s main bodyguard, Pete had gotten used to waking early and going to bed late. Perhaps to most, it sounded like a harsh way of living but Pete didn’t mind. He enjoyed the feeling of early mornings, the air still cool and the house quiet save for the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room. He enjoyed them even more so now that he had started living in the second family house where he could go about his morning business undisturbed.
And so, Pete woke up at eight again today. Well –truthfully, Pete woke up even earlier than that, maybe around seven, to the feel of soft lips on his bare shoulder. In fact, there was somebody in this house who got up way before Pete. Ever the workaholic, Vegas liked to start his workday with the first rays of sunlight and a steaming cup of coffee. I start early so I can finish early and spend more time with you, he’d said the one time Pete had asked out of curiosity, his answer bringing up a deep blush to the latter’s cheeks. Although it was undeniably true, Pete also knew that in actuality, Vegas loved to lose himself in work. He would pour over documents and meeting notes, becoming so immersed in them Pete would sometimes have to come drag him out of the office to go have dinner. Nevertheless, in the entirety of the five months they had lived together, Vegas had not once gotten up without giving Pete a light kiss on the forehead, his cheek, or shoulder. And not once had Pete made him aware that however light, those kisses woke him up. It was a little secret Pete kept to himself because he knew if he told him, Vegas would stop his morning ritual kisses.
There was one more reason Pete couldn’t sleep in even if he wished and that was because a baby’s screams could be heard through most of the night, into the early mornings. At first, when they’d brought little Venice home, Vegas had refused to care for him. It was, after all, Pete’s choice to adopt the little gremlin so he would take responsibility for him. More than a bit irritated at his partner’s behavior, Pete frowned but ultimately agreed, since it was true that it was his insistence on bringing the baby back. For a whole week, Pete would be up at all hours of the night in the makeshift baby’s room they had repurposed for Venice as it was right next to their bedroom. Naturally, Pete had demanded the baby’s crib be placed in their bedroom. Naturally, Vegas had refused. But after a week of Pete’s nonstop getting up, going down to the kitchen to warm up the milk and feeding Venice until he fell back asleep for a blessed two hours, Vegas had finally snapped. Look at you, he had said with venom in his voice as he watched a bloodshot Pete pour juice over the table instead of his glass one morning, You can’t get a lick of sleep because of that devil. Pete had admonished him for the cruel term but that same night, when the first cries had begun, Vegas pushed Pete back into their bed. Go back to sleep, I’ll do it. It was a slow battle but Pete had all the patience the universe had bestowed upon him. Since then, each night the two of them took turns and Pete’s sleep had gradually improved.
After his shower, Pete made quick work of dressing himself for the day (in a plain blue shirt and linen pants Porsche had helped him pick out when they’d gone shopping earlier in the week; his old bodyguard uniforms were now useless, which meant 90% of Pete’s closet was empty and in dire need of replacement) and headed over to the baby room. Venice had also awoken and was crawling around in his crib, giggling and making nonsense sounds, spitting on everything around him like was customary for all infants. Pete raised him in his arms carefully, rocking him up and down in the way he knew Venice liked and ensured a calm morning. After a quick diaper change, Pete and Venice went down to start on breakfast. A cup of tea, baby formula, and a few Youtube videos later and Pete had the batter for the pancakes ready. Last night, he had promised a pleading Macau he would attempt to make American pancakes because the teenager wouldn’t stop whining about how he had watched some Hollywood movie and now couldn’t stop his craving for the foreign food. In the past, answering the young masters’ whims would have fallen to the chefs but after the fallout between the two families, the chefs in their house had all been dismissed. Thus, the job fell on an unlucky Pete. Not that he actually minded.
By the time Venice had finished eating his first morning meal and was propped up on his baby chair, the enticing smell of hot pancakes out of the pan had invited the next youngest downstairs.
“Phi Pete, it smells amazing in here,” Macau made a scene to inhale deeply as he snuggled up to Pete who was flipping the last of the pancakes. “You can’t possibly make me believe this is your first time making them.”
Pete smiled at his enthusiasm, ruffling the teenager’s hair. “Let’s hope they taste as good as they look.”
“No doubt they will,” Macau said, pouring himself a glass of orange juice and going over to sit down next to a blubbering Venice.
“Eww, gremlin, stop spitting all over my food.”
“Macau!” Pete turned around to give him a death glare right as a laughing Vegas entered the kitchen, having overheard the commotion.
“This is all your fault!” Angry, Pete turned his attention on him. “You taught him these awful words. Poor Venice will grow up with low self-esteem.”
Ignoring his temper, Vegas embraced Pete from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder. “He’s too young to even understand us, honey.”
“Don’t, Vegas,” Pete shrugged him off, “Haven’t you read those articles about how plants grow taller if they’re praised and remain small and wilt if they’re insulted?”
Vegas shook his head, now laughing even harder. “Babe, Venice is a human baby, not a plant. Wherever do you read these ridiculous things?”
As if on cue in that moment Venice started wailing. Highly annoyed, Pete brushed off Vegas’ attempts to hug him and went off to the infant’s rescue. “Shh, it’s okay, Venice. Daddy didn’t mean it and neither did your big brother, right? Hush, little one.”
“Fine, fine, I’m sorry, babe.” Vegas put his hands together in supplication, then turned to Macau with a threatening look. “Macau, stop being mean to your brother or I’m taking away your sleepover nights with Porchay.”
“B-but–” The teenager stammered, mouth full of pancake. “Alright, alright.”
Somewhat vindicated, Pete took his place next to the baby chair and mashed up a banana to feed to Venice. Vegas didn’t sit but walked back to the kitchen counter instead. He opened one drawer after the other, taking out several mysterious ingredients.
“What are you doing? The food is all here.” Pete asked.
“Making you rice porridge. You’re not gonna eat the pancakes, are you?” Vegas said casually without turning around.
The little flame that had made a home in Pete’s heart ignited. Vegas remembered that Pete didn’t like Western food. He was definitely hungry by now, the coffee all but washed out the contents of his stomach, and yet he was pushing his own needs off to cook for Pete. Frankly, Pete hadn’t thought about himself and would’ve ended up having bits and pieces of fruit here and there to keep him up until a proper lunch.
Knowing Vegas would not be dissuaded, Pete got up. “Let me help you then.” He had almost made it back to the stove when Vegas blocked his way.
“Please go sit down, Pete. You can’t expect to do everything around here. You’re going to collapse one day from not taking care of yourself.” A peck to Pete’s forehead sealed the deal and Pete knew he couldn’t argue.
The rest of their breakfast passed uneventfully. Macau ate until he was stuffed, making sounds of delightment with each bite and thanking Pete profusely before heading out for tutoring lessons. Pete ate his specially prepared porridge with a small smile he couldn’t contain, Vegas’ hand settled on his thigh the entire time as he was physically unable to keep his distance for more than a good minute. Even Venice didn’t cry out again and when Pete turned to check up on him, he found the infant still sitting up and eyes closed, having returned back to dreamland.
–
As the day went on, Pete once again found his mind wandering back to his early life on his home island. Pete wouldn’t say he was popular in high school (although his grandma would quickly cut him off to claim otherwise) but he definitely had a good group of friends and acquaintances. He was often invited to parties and come Valentine’s Day, Pete would return home, hands full of paper bags overflowing with handmade gifts and chocolates. His grandma would beam proudly, bragging to each of their neighbors about how loved Pete was by girls in his school, how charming her grandson was. In truth, to this day Pete didn’t know why he had received so many Valentine hearts each year. He was nice to everybody around him but not because he expected anything in return or because he wanted to be popular.
When he was fourteen, Pete had his first girlfriend. Joy was her name, a shy girl from the other class with sharp dark eyes and black hair cascading down her back. Trembling, she had confessed her feelings one afternoon to a stunned Pete who could do nothing but nod as she explained how she had fallen for him as she watched him play volleyball during physical education. She was kind and smart and by then, many of Pete’s guy friends had had their first girlfriends so he thought —why not?
They had gone out for three weeks before Pete came back one evening shaking and clearly unsettled. He paced back and forth in the living room, unsure what to do with himself. Noticing he wasn’t acting like his usual self, Pete’s grandma sat him down on the sofa for a round of questioning that terrified both Pete and his grandpa alike.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” The woman rubbed his back comfortingly as Pete reluctantly chewed the fruit she had cut up for him. “I’ve never seen you this shaken up before. Did something happen?”
Pete shook his head, forcing a smile on. “Nothing happened, grandma.”
“Pete,” Grandma’s determined eyes stared straight through his soul. “You know you can tell me anything, son.”
It was true. In all his life, Pete had never hidden anything from his grandma. He didn’t feel the need to. He confided his deepest thoughts to her and he knew she would give him the best advice for his troubles. Although it was a little difficult talking about this with her, he finally caved.
“It’s Joy,” He brought his voice down to a whisper even though the house was empty except for them. “She…she wanted me to kiss her.”
His grandma nodded. “And you didn’t want to?”
“I—“ Pete swallowed, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. “I don’t know why but I felt that I shouldn’t.”
“It’s alright, sweetie. A kiss is not something you can force. If you weren’t feeling it, it means you weren’t ready for it.”
Pete looked down in shame. “I don’t think it’s like that, grandma. I don’t think I liked Joy as I thought I did.”
“A kiss is something special, Pete.” His grandma said. “It’s to be shared with somebody we truly like.”
Pulling his shirt sleeve up, Pete wiped at the tears that had managed to escape.
“But you have to promise me, Pete,” Grandma continued, tone more serious. “Don’t be with someone out of obligation or because you want to make them happy. Be with somebody you truly love.”
Pete looked up. His grandma had an uncanny way of reading people that she had, he later discovered, passed down to him. More than that, her words always found a way to comfort Pete. He was already starting to feel much better about everything. But something still bothered him.
“But grandma, how will I know?” He asked. “How will I know I truly love someone?”
“Love, my son, is hard to explain.” No way, there was something his grandma couldn’t put words to? Her mouth worked nonstop on overdrive, it was hard to believe she didn’t have something to say about it.
To his relief, the woman went on, settling deeper into the couch, Pete mimicking her.
“Love feels exhilarating, like you are on the peak of the highest mountain. But love can also hurt. It can hurt so deeply that it makes you feel like there are daggers gnawing at your insides.”
His grandma paused for a moment, looking pensively out into the distance.
“It was like that for your mother.” Pete was shocked to hear her talk of his mom. She rarely brought her up, the pain of losing her only daughter too much to bear even all these years after her passing. What she was about to say then must be very important if she was willing to talk about her.
“Your mom loved your father very much. So much so that she was ready to run off with him after we disapproved of their engagement. Your grandpa had heard about him and knew he was a lousy man but your mother refused to listen to us. In the end, when he left her with you still in her womb, it almost killed her. She was sick with grief.”
The tears pushed back to the surface with full force, threatening to overcome Pete’s stoic expression. It was difficult to hear about the pain his mother had endured.
His grandma returned her attention to him. “That is what love is like, Pete. Though I was mad at her for years, I see now it was likely inevitable. We don’t get to choose who we love. My dear, please find the one who won’t exploit your love as a weakness, like your father did to your mother, but one who will make love your strength.”
Their conversation left Pete reeling in confusion. For days after, he couldn’t stop replaying it in his head. It all sounded so bleak to him. Choose wisely who you give your love to, but it doesn’t matter because you don’t have a choice in the end. With time and life getting in the way, Pete almost forgot about it entirely. That is, until a night six months ago, on the battlefield between two warring families, when he’d seen a man walking out of the smoke with a rifle, his footsteps halting in front of Pete. Standing on two opposing sides of the battle, the thought had come unbidden to Pete. His inevitable choice was there in front of him, in Vegas’ eyes which reflected back his own.
—
The door to the baby room was left ajar when Pete, warmed up baby formula in hand, came to put Venice to sleep. He was about to push it fully open but what he saw inside made him stop with his hand on the door handle.
The crib was empty. Vegas was in the rocking chair on the side of the room, holding Venice in his arms, a bottle of milk pressed to the infant’s mouth as he sucked happily.
“What are you looking at me for?” Vegas spoke softly, softer than he had ever spoken to Pete. “With those huge eyes of yours that don’t fit your small face.”
Pete stifled his laugh. He leaned on the door to get a better view at the two most precious beings in his life.
“Thinking about how you wish Pete was here instead, right? My poor Pete has been breaking his legs off twenty four seven taking care of you. What are we gonna do about that, huh, little –” A pause. “Munchkin?”
Pete’s heart did a somersault in his chest. God, they were so cute he wanted to cry. Actually, he was pretty close to tears at this point.
Inside the room, Venice had finished eating and satisfied, the baby boy was giggling and babbling in his baby talk. Vegas smiled back, bending down to rub his nose onto both of Venice’s cheeks.
Overcome with emotion, Pete finally opened the door to reveal himself. Vegas immediately straightened, looking for all the world like he had been caught in an act of betrayal.
“Pete,”
“I came to say goodnight to the little one but I see someone already took care of it.” Vegas glanced down at a now soundly sleeping Venice.
Carefully, Vegas transferred him to Pete’s arms and Pete put the baby down in his crib, draping the tiny blanket over his sleeping figure.
“I was coming to tell you to get some rest but I got sidetracked.” Vegas explained as Pete put away the forgotten baby formula he had been holding.
“It’s no trouble.” Pete moved into Vegas’ personal space, sliding his hands around the other’s waist. “Thank you for doing this.”
Vegas returned the embrace, squeezing hard. “No need to thank me, honey.” He said, burying his head in Pete’s neck and inhaling deeply.
“I know it’s been hard for you with Venice.” Pete confessed what had been on his mind for a while. “I’m sorry I forced you to help raise him.”
“Pete,” Vegas stepped back, trying to catch Pete’s eyes. “Pete, look at me.”
Pete looked up.
“You didn’t force me to do anything. I chose to start anew with you. To make a family here with you and Macau. Venice was a surprise, sure, but it’s not one I regret. I will never regret it, Pete, do you hear me?”
Pete read people well but the one he could decipher the best was Vegas and he knew it was sincerely written all over his features. It’s why he burst into tears, hiding his unruly face in his hands.
“No, no, no darling,” Vegas cooed, catching Pete in a bone-crushing hug. Big sobs continued to wrack through Pete’s body and Vegas rubbed comforting circles down his back.
“Baby, please don’t cry. You know it breaks me seeing you in tears.” This only made Pete cry harder. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby, and I’ll fix it. Just don’t cry, please, love.”
Gathering some of his strength, Pete pulled back a little to look at his partner’s troubled eyes.
“I just–” A sniffle. “I just love you both so, so much.” He managed to make out. His heart was so full of it Pete thought it would explode.
“I love you with all of my being, Pete.” Vegas caught his face in both hands. “And Venice already adores you. You’re the light of our lives, Pete.”
It was as his grandma had said all those years ago. Love was as exhilarating as it was painful. It made Pete’s chest seize up, the flame within burning his soul to pieces.
“Vegas,” Pete muttered after he’d calmed down a bit. The man in question was busy gently wiping away at his tear-streaked cheeks.
“Yes, darling?”
“It was an easy choice after all.”
“Huh? What was?” Vegas peered up at him as if worried his lover had hit his head.
Pete didn’t speak but sealed his mouth in a searing kiss. Vegas deepend it, tongues dancing in a familiar, intoxicating rhythm, until they were both gasping for air. Vegas’ hands moved to Pete’s hips, which buckled on their own accord, making Pete moan out in pleasure. In his dazed state, Pete could feel Vegas slowly leading them to the door so they could undoubtedly take this back to their bedroom, when a shriek sounded behind them.
“Not now, damn it. ” Vegas groaned into Pete’s neck where he had started planting fresh marks.
More than a tad disappointed, Pete pulled back reluctantly.
“Your turn.” He smiled, all teeth, and turned to leave father and son as Vegas flashed him an imploring look.