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Pete had known from the very second when he had left the safe house, left Vegas, things would turn out to be difficult for him. It wouldn’t be a simple thing to go back to the Main Family. Not after going into the Minor Family home, encountering Khun Kinn’s cousin, and living to tell the story.
Every time the Minor Family is involved, one must always watch their back. But to sneak into their home, to search for information? It was a suicide mission. Pete had known that from the beginning; everyone had known that.
So, despite the way Khun Tankhun pulls him into a bone-crushing hug, he worries. Even when Pol and Arm join them, smiling and laughing, he can’t stop. Pete puts on his best performance. He hugs them back and smiles.
When Khun Kinn pats him on the shoulder, wordlessly thanking him, Pete manages a slight bow and a nonchalant shake of his head. It’s nothing, he means but they both know it is a lie. He risked everything – his life, for Khun Kinn, and Porsche too, now neither of them will be able to save Pete from his inevitably coming fate.
Time feels sluggish around him like he is no longer part of the world around him. He barely takes a notice of Porsche pushing him inside the Main Family building. Barely feels the hands on his shoulders that guide him through the corridors and rooms.
Pete might have survived Vegas and the Minor Family, but he awaits with dread what it will end up costing him.
There is a commotion outside of their room, in the corridor coming in their way. Pete had been expecting it. In the bathroom where Porsche had peeled off his clothes, as the other stared at his wounds but stays quiet – at least for now. And after the other left him to shower by himself, he had expected them to swarm into the room while he was standing under the running water. He had been anxious the whole time, naked and defenseless.
Now, a clean button-up on and his gun resting familiarly against his hip, he feels calmer. Porsche looks calm too, standing still but the picture is betrayed by the way his gaze circles around the room, his eyes never really meeting Pete’s.
Porsche jumps only slightly when the room door suddenly bursts open. Pete expected a lot of people, other bodyguards. Even if they didn’t say anything as they made their way through the building, he had seen their faces.
He has been working for the Main family for years. If it was someone else in his shoes, Pete would have been one of those whispering and gossiping. Accusing him of a deal with a devil. Wondering what he had given to them, secrets and information, in order to stay alive.
It’s Khun Kinn who steps into the room. He is only a slightly out of breath from running to get to them before the roaring crowd.
“Pete,” the man says, looking at Porsche the whole time. “They are coming, by my father’s order.”
Somehow, knowing that he truly is wanted now, calms his anxiously beating heart. He hadn’t expected anything less from Khun Korn. In fact, Pete had expected to be shot immediately after setting his foot on the Main Family’s property.
Khun Korn hasn’t held onto the title of the biggest and most respected mafia family by being kind. Pete thinks back on the times he has been ordered to track down someone who has dared to betray the family. Those who have been even suspected of such, more often than not met with the same fate; disappear without a trace, never to be again.
“Come,” Porsche grabs him by the forearm.
It surprises Pete enough, that even with his years of training, he almost stumbles. He must have missed quite a conversation; Pete thinks and looks at the stern look on Kinn’s features.
Obviously, his boss doesn’t want Porsche to get tangled up in Pete’s mess. Even if it was Khun Kinn who sent Pete to the Minor Family. By helping Pete, Porsche puts a target on his own back too.
Just like Khun Kinn, though for different reasons completely, Pete doesn’t want his friend to get hurt by getting caught in the crossfire. Porsches grip on his arm is tight. Not tight enough for him to not be able to shake him off. Perhaps selfish, but Pete wants to live and he knows his chances of survival by himself are close to none.
So, he lets Porsche drag him along. Around a corner and into another corridor, down the back stairs that no one rarely uses. The Main Family building has too many floors and no one runs between them voluntarily.
The whole time, Pete can feel Khun Kinn’s stare on the back of his head. Even still, when it’s no longer possible for the other to see them, the feeling follows him like he is branded. They have run long enough for the tall building to simply blur into a part of the city around them.
“Are you an idiot?” Pete manages to yelp between the desperate gasps for air.
It’s not like he is in a bad shape, quite the opposite actually. Nonetheless the training he has had, he finds himself leaning heavily against a wall while he tries to steady his breathing. It’s not really Vegas’ and the days Pete spent with him fault but it gives some small satisfaction for being able to blame someone for the state he currently is in.
Seeing Porsche gasp for air, in the same way, helps too. No one is made to run through the whole city, not even if Pete currently wishes he was.
He is painfully aware of the target on his back and how it is now on Porsche’s back too. How they are on foot, in a city that belongs to the Theerapanyakul family in everything but name.
The Main Family must already be going through the footage of surveillance cameras in the area. Strolling through the streets not only on foot like them but by cars, and motorbikes. On top of that, any one of the people they pass by could bring the information forward.
They will eventually catch up to them. He and Porsche will be found because as little as Pete wants to admit it, it’s going to be inevitable. They are only two people, equipped with one gun each. And not many people want to risk themselves too while trying to help them. Help Pete.
“What?” Porsche eventually says as he shoulders open the backdoor of the building, in which shadow, they had stopped.
“This is the first place they will look!” He hisses back but still follows his friend inside.
They are in the backroom of Yok’s bar. Pete scans through it, with nothing much to hide behind, as he sits down on top of a box pushed against the wall. Now that he finally gets his weight off his feet, he does only then realize how much they are hurting from all the running.
Porsche pushes a broken chair against the door. It doesn’t really help if someone wants to come through it but at least they would hear it. It’s still a risk, in case someone comes from the direction of the bar. They would lose precious seconds when having to move the chair away.
That’s probably why Porsche doesn’t lock it. If someone searching for them did come through the bar to the back, the door being locked would most likely cost them their lives.
“We can’t run mindlessly around either, we will just tire out doing so.”
The other man sits down too, on another box, and leans against the wall, closing his eyes. Pete doesn’t say anything because he knows the other is right. It still does nothing about his heart that is hammering painfully against his ribcage.
He doesn’t dare to close his eyes, even for a short moment, as Porsche does. Too afraid of missing the smallest sign, a tell-tale that someone is coming. His ears are starting to hurt from how hard he tries to focus on every single sound around them. Never before had Pete realized how loud the world actually is.
“Did you tell him something?”
Did he tell something? To the Minor Family? Did Pete tell something to Vegas? Pete stares at the wall and tries to get the image of them together, in the safe house, out of his head.
It stings, the realization that even Porsche wonders about him. That even his own friend is questioning his loyalty to the Main Family, who the other has also known for a far shorter time than Pete has.
“I am loyal.”
Perhaps he sounds offended enough because Porsche has the decency to look ashamed after hearing his answer. The other smiles at Pete sheepishly but looks over his shoulder, instead of his eyes. Pete tries to not blame him too much. Every passing second, he is aware that in different circumstances, he would be the one asking the same questions as someone else. Doubting their loyalty. And eventually – pulling the trigger.
“Did he hurt you?” Porsche asks after the silence between them stretches on for too long, a striking contrast to the booming music on the other side of the wall.
Pete stares at his hands, painfully aware of the way Porsche is staring at his chest. Right now, the healing wounds are covered by his shirt but the other had seen them. Earlier in the bathroom when he had helped Pete to undress. How the marks are healing, but undoubtedly ugly on his skin. He shudders involuntarily when the memory of Vegas kissing each cut fills his head.
It’s not even that long since he left the safehouse and Vegas behind but somehow, it feels more like an eternity to him. All the signs of their time together are vanishing, some faster than others.
He can barely see the faint marks on his wrists where the chains used to be. They are quickly fading into nothingness and part of Pete, deep down in a secret, misses the feeling of the metal against his skin. No matter how much he tries to deny it, Pete misses Vegas.
“No,” Pete answers.
He knows Porsche doesn’t believe him, not even momentarily. Thankfully the other lets it be, instead of pushing the subject.
The chair Porsche placed against the door suddenly falls with a loud crash, making Pete startle slightly. It lays there, blocking the door. With the second push onto the door, it opens a little more and he knows with the third whoever is trying will surely get in.
Wordlessly, they both are back on their feet; their ache now long forgotten, and sprint to the door on the other end of the small corridor.
As they step through it and into the bar, the roar of the music hits them like a wave. The scene in front of him makes Pete a little dizzy after spending so long in the dimly lit backroom. Everything is just a burst of colors and movement.
Porsche circles around the bar counter with ease, almost as if he is dancing, and winks at the group of girls who noticed their sudden appearance. They are clearly drunk as they giggle, their heads held close as they yell over the music and cling to each other in order to stay on their bar stools.
Pete blinks and strides after his friend in hopes of not losing him in the crowd. He swears aloud when one of the dancing people around him manages to accidentally stab him between his shoulder blades. The words fall to deaf ears in the room, the one who hit him didn’t even seem to notice what had happened; meeting Pete’s glare with a drunken smile and words he can’t hear.
There is a commotion and someone screams, one of the girls he had seen earlier, and Pete starts making his way through the sea of people faster. Usually, he wouldn’t but now, panicking and running for his life, he shoves every unfortunate person on his way to the side.
Pete can’t believe his eyes when he notices Porsche once more, a few feet ahead of him. The other accepts a drink from one of the party-goers as he passes by them. Though it’s exactly like something Porsche would do, he thinks remembering the time Porsche was drinking on duty.
And that’s when he stops. Just for a split second, so that he barely even realizes he has done so before he is once again pushing his way through the people.
Pete had seen Vegas.
He is sure of it, even though the other was gone in a blink of an eye. His focus keeps wandering from Porsche’s back in favor of him trying to scan the room.
The bar’s neon lights are making everything look unnatural to his eyes. He could have just confused someone else with Vegas. Imagined him.
He could have, but Pete is sure he would now recognize the other anywhere. By touch alone, by smell. He would know him blind, by the sound of his breath and how his feet struck the earth. Pete would know him in death, at the end of the world.
With a few more steps he reaches the door, which Porsche is holding open. Pete knows it’s a risk, it takes time and he does not have plenty, but he turns around. He takes one last glance at Yok’s bar and its customers. He searches for Vegas and his black, half-unbuttoned shirt in the crowd. He can almost hear the seconds ticking by as he tries to study every single detail of the room as fast as humanly possible.
Pete sighs, he isn’t sure whether it is out of relief or disappointment, and ducks under Porsche’s hand and steps outside of the bar. There is no sign of Vegas.
There are people running after them, Pete can hear them. And even though they are still far, it doesn’t do anything to ease the panic that is starting to build inside him.
Pete isn’t exactly sure what part of the city they are in. They have no plan, no place to go. With the guns they have, they don’t really have any real chance to defend themselves. His lungs are burning and screaming for air, although they are already slowing their speed with each step.
The familiar weight of his handgun on the waistband of his jeans is small comfort. And Pete doesn’t really want to think about it but he can’t help it. If it comes to that, at least he has a way out; he can end it all on his own terms.
“This way,” Porsche pants quietly and tugs at Pete’s sleeve to get his attention.
They dive into an alleyway between two buildings. It’s so narrow that his shoulders scrape along the coarse material of the walls as he continues forcing himself to put one foot in front of another. He hadn’t even noticed it at first from the road and hopes the same goes for the people pursuing them.
Porsche accidentally knocks over an abandoned trashcan and it tumbles over with a loud ruckus. They both swear at the sound but don’t stop to see whose attention it managed to catch.
There is yelling now. A lot closer to them, but far enough for the words to be just nonsensical background noise. Pete can’t say if is it the people after them or someone unlucky who they accidentally managed to wake in their hurry. He hopes for the latter to be true.
The narrow alleyway ends absurdly and they are tossed in the middle of a mostly empty parking lot. It makes Pete feel uneasy as there is no cover for them. If there is someone on higher ground, they are an easy target now. He hopes he isn’t important enough for the Main Family to prioritize his capture in order for them to bring out the helicopters. At the moment, there is no sound coming from them but Pete knows how quickly they can appear almost as if out of nowhere.
Pete stops so suddenly that Porsche barges straight into his back. Though he barely pays attention to it as there he is again. Vegas.
Vegas is leaning against a parked car as he speaks with whoever car it is. Pete had known he hadn’t just imagined the other earlier in Yok’s bar.
He knows he and Porsche are still far away from the man. They are also partly standing in the shadows of the building behind them. So, there is no way Vegas is actually looking at him right now. Even though Pete is feeling like the other is staring straight through him deep into his soul. Yet, it makes his heart beat faster.
There are no guarantees; he doesn’t know what Vegas is doing here. Whether he is here to drag Pete back into the safe house where he only earlier today ran from.
Or perhaps he is here to help the Main Family to finish the job. To finish Pete. Even if the two families rarely see eye to eye, they are still family. Vegas is the heir to the Minor Family; Pete knows the man will most likely do anything to stay even somewhat in the Main Family’s good books.
“Kinn?” Porsche breaths out next to him.
And, oh. Pete notices Khun Kinn as if an afterthought. His boss – former boss? – is sitting on the driver’s seat of the car Vegas is leaning against.
Pete doesn’t know what it means for Vegas and Khun Kinn to be speaking, especially in times like this. What he does know is that he doesn’t necessarily want to stick around to find out if possible.
For a moment he thinks, he is sure, that Porsche will not follow him. This isn’t really the other’s fight; he could go back to Khun Kinn and no harm would come to him. So, a part of him is surprised when another pair of footsteps follows him around a corner and down to another dark alleyway.
In the distance Pete can hear the car engine rumbling to life.
It’s late and dark, Pete is tired of mindlessly running around the city. The panic inside his chest won’t let him rest through, so he continues running.
At times he thinks this is it, when they barely manage to stop in time before barreling into an alley with people carrying the Main Family symbol on their jackets. Occasionally, it sounds like they might have actually managed to lose those trailing behind them.
The joy is always short-lived though. Sooner or later, they will once again hear people speaking, whispering in hushed tones. Heavy footsteps somewhere nearby. And there is no way for them to know, is it just someone strolling around or someone sent by the Main Family.
So, they keep running.
Pete has barely had time to fully turn around the corner when he quite literally runs into the gun. The barrel of it hits him on the forehead almost painfully. It’s dark and around here street lamps are sparse. So, it takes him a moment to recognize the person holding the gun.
Vegas.
Almost as soon as Pete realizes it’s actually him, the other lowers his gun. He doesn’t put it away but lets it hang loosely on his fingertips. As if it isn’t a weapon but a toy. Though he isn’t sure there is such a difference between the two to Vegas.
Porsche shuffles awkwardly on his next to Pete and that’s when he, once again belatedly, notices Khun Kinn. His boss is standing a little further away, behind Vegas. He too has a gun in his hand, the favorite one and keeps it pointed at Porsche.
If it was anyone else Pete would put himself between Porsche and the coming bullet. Because it’s Khun Kinn, he doesn’t. He knows there is no way the other would ever shoot Porsche. Porsche must know it too because he does not look even the slightest bit worried. At least, not after Vegas lowered his gun.
“Pete,” Vegas whispers, drawing Pete’s attention back to him.
To his, and by the looks of, and everyone else’s surprise Vegas sinks to his knees. His knees hit the pavement with an unpleasant thud but the other doesn’t seem to be affected by it all. Instead, he looks up to Pete in a way that he has no idea what the man is thinking.
Pete raises his hand and Vegas flinches slightly as if expecting to be hit. No matter how angry Pete is, he would never hit the other. He remembers way too well their conversations in the safe house. The hurt and the grief on Vegas’ face still haunts him, and even after everything, Pete will never be the one causing that pain to the man.
Besides, Pete can’t find himself to be angry at Vegas. Not even the tiniest bit. Something that he didn’t even know existed, had woken up in him while in the safe house.
What does it matter if the Main Family, the entire world, calls Vegas the devil? If that’s how it’s meant to be, then Pete will gladly belong to the devil.
Carefully, in order to not alarm the other again, Pete places his hand on Vegas’ cheek. The other leans into the touch, closing his eyes. He wonders how much of the pain between the two families could have been avoided if they ever stopped their endless fighting and showed kindness to one another.
Of course, in a world like theirs, it’s foolish. Kindness gets you killed.
“Vegas,” he says, following the man’s cheekbone with his fingertips.
Said man’s head shoots up as he opens his eyes and in them, there is such a whirlwind of emotions that Pete doesn’t even know where to start naming them. Doesn’t know how to. Although Vegas shows him things, he certainly has never shown before to anyone else, he is still wearing a mask. A carefully crafted one.
“Why are you here?” Pete asks.
He wonders can Vegas feel his pulse, how hastily it is pulsing through his veins.
Running is tiring work but it’s the waiting that kills you. The terror creeps slowly in, grows, and eats you alive. Every second you expect someone to turn around the corner, to recognize you. He has always known that but in the past, it has always been him doing the hunting.
Now, as he is the prey, he doesn’t want to stay still. Especially because he knows the men Khun Korn sent after him aren’t too far. He and Porsche had heard them talking just before dashing into the alley that eventually led them straight to Khun Kinn and Vegas.
“You didn’t come to me,” Vegas answers.
For a split-second Pete thinks he means him leaving the safe house. The other had promised to let him out of the handcuffs if he would stay.
He hadn’t stayed but neither had he promised to. Did Vegas come all this way to bring him back?
Or did Khun Kinn make an agreement with the other? The Main Family returns Pete to the Minor Family, to Vegas, because he doesn’t matter anymore. Who wants a bodyguard who sells family secrets for their own survival? Although he didn’t do that, the suspicion is enough.
So, returning him to the Minor Family would be the easiest way out for them. Those in doubt will be silenced – Pete is no longer with them. And when the Minor Family kills him, it wouldn’t matter. The rest of the Main Family’s secrets would die with him.
Vegas isn’t really known for his patience in the first place so everyone would expect him to be gone by the end of the week. Part of him too expects that too if Khun Kinn and Vegas truly did make a deal.
But Pete knows it’s not that. Or at least, he chooses to trust that. Why else Vegas would be here, on his knees in front of him? The man wants to know why didn’t he come straight to him when it became clear the Main Family put a target on his back.
Vegas wants to know why Pete didn’t come to him for help, instead of running around the city with Porsche. The truthful answer is that Pete didn’t even realize it could be an option.
“Yet, you found me.”
He doesn’t know what Porsche and Khun Kinn are saying, all of his focus is on Vegas and surviving. From the corner of his eye, he can see the latter is still pointing at Porsche with his gun, though they are now standing a lot closer to each other. In an almost intimate manner, even with the firearm between them.
Porsche looks unhappy but nods. Pete knows he will continue his escape alone going forward.
Out of nowhere Vegas stands up, rising his gun once more. Oh, is all Pete manages to think while staring into the barrel of the gun. If I have to die; at least it will be by your hand.
Then the gun goes off and the sound makes his ears ring but the pain never comes. He blinks a few times, trying to figure out does dying really happens so quickly, so painlessly.
Vegas pushes a strand of hair out of his face and Pete decides, no, he isn’t dead. Looking over his shoulder he sees a man in a suit with the Main Family mark on his suit jacket slump against the wall and then to the ground. He leaves a bloodied trail on the wall behind him.
And, oh. Pete had been so focused on Vegas that he hadn’t even heard all the noise closing in on them. Now that a gun has gone off, everyone nearby surely knows where they are.
“I won’t let anyone do anything to you, Pete,” Vegas says, a lethal smile on his lips.
The man takes his hand, linking their fingers together. For a moment, one that they really don’t have, they just look at each other.
When Pete smiles back at him, Vegas takes a step backward, tugging him along. He keeps his gun steady, pointed over Pete’s shoulder waiting for the next unfortunate soul to turn around the corner.
Pete wants to go with Vegas. He wants so much that he can’t really explain it or put it into words. As he tears his eyes off Vegas and turns to look at Porsche, he finds the other is already looking at him. Occasionally also throwing one nasty glance into Vegas’ direction. Vegas doesn’t notice or chooses to ignore it, which makes Pete smile.
Khun Kinn isn’t looking at him. Pete isn’t sure has the other even glanced in his direction the whole time. Even now, he hasn’t lowered his gun. Albeit now Pete can see that it’s not pointed at Porsche but over his shoulder, waiting exactly like Vegas.
“–I am on your side,” Khun Kinn says so quietly that Pete only catches the end of the sentence.
Whatever it is that he said, it visibly makes Porsche relax. He smiles at Pete, looking like he is coming for a hug when a bullet flies between them. It’s followed soon after by another and then a third.
Vegas tugs on Pete’s arm and this time he doesn’t hold back. They sprint towards the other end of the building. He doesn’t really know where they are going, not anymore as his hand is tightly held in Vegas’.
“Just take care of him!” Porsche yells after them. Pete thinks the man raises his gun in some kind of a silent agreement but it also could just be him shooting at someone.
They leave Khun Kinn and Porsche behind. The two of them can take care of themselves perfectly well and where is Khun Kinn, there are also bodyguards nearby. On top of that Pete is leaving and it’s him who they actually want.
Now, with Vegas, the thought makes him laugh instead of panic.
“We can’t outrun them!” Pete yells as his lungs are once again screaming for air as his legs beg for some rest.
They have only made their way a few blocks further from the scene they just left behind. It’s not nearly far enough now that they know Pete has been in the area. Khun Korn’s men will not a single stone unturned until they find him and drag his bloodied corpse to their boss.
“Who said anything about running?” Vegas asks.
The man looks good, his shirt eternally half un-buttoned and a sly smile on his features. The most infuriating part is that Vegas doesn’t seem to be out of breath at all. Their fingers are still linked together.
That’s when he sees it. Vegas’ red motorcycle. of course, the other isn’t an idiot and has run around the city like he and Porsche had been doing all day. At this very moment though, he is just beyond glad to see the vehicle.
Knowing that he has been living on borrowed time ever since he left the Main Family building with Porsche, Pete stops.
They don’t have time to stop but every second is more than Pete ever thought he could have so he does that. Vegas looks at him and opens his mouth to say something but he is silenced quickly.
Pete kisses him.