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Prompt 7. Silent Panic Attack
The transition to a normal, humble and anonymous life is easier than any of them could have predicted. Vegas has his physical therapy appointments twice every week; Macau has his school activities and extracurriculars. His routine did get disrupted, but in a fortunate way - his father is no longer around to always question whether or not his youngest son deserves an uninterrupted education.
They are kept pets for now, at least this is how Vegas calls it, and money is not a problem. Uncle Korn takes care of everything through a discreet third party - not Kinn or anyone else from the close family.
Pete’s situation is the simplest one of all. He did not have anything going on in his life besides being a bodyguard. And now that he’s no longer expected to watch every series four times with Tankhun, he has his time to himself.
He falls into the caretaker role with eyes wide open - Khun Korn said it’s what is expected of him and Vegas and Macau need him. They need the structure and the comfort of a routine and safety.
While Vegas is used to sleeping with one eye open and being on the lookout for threats, he does not have training that can kick in and inform the way he responds to those threats in a fail-proof way. Sometimes he is more violent than needed; other times, he misses important details and it doesn’t end well. Back when he was
Khun Vegas
, it didn’t matter because his position placed him above consequences. He lost that now, and he can’t just rough up a man in an alley for walking too close behind them on the way to the market without being told he’s a psycho and the police need to be involved.
So Vegas relies on Pete - maybe a bit too much in these transition times, because Pete can read cues a lot better and faster; Pete’s training to protect and secure is a reflex to him by now.
Which is why Pete graciously doesn’t get offended when Macau calls him “Mom”. He doesn’t seem to mind being the compass of their little family, providing structure and comfort, care and reassurance where they are needed.
But even though they are happy and taking it one day at a time, even though they can have whole days of doing nothing under the sun at their own pace, Vegas feels it. Like an unsettling silence, an absence without name beneath the fabric of things.
Pete adopted Macau as his. There’s no other way of putting it and Vegas loves seeing the bond between the two. And while Pete is more capable of matching Macau’s little shit energy with his own, Vegas waits for the other shoe to drop.
It happens on Pete’s birthday - Vegas brings home a family of three cacti because Pete doesn’t like cut flowers. He orders a cake with Pete’s favourite ingredients - fruit and cream rather than chocolate - and it’s an otherwise lovely day, until he says, “we can do whatever you want, we can go out somewhere fancy and celebrate. Your pick.”
And Pete
freezes.
It feels like the temperature in the room dropped suddenly, and Vegas gets that telltale shiver down his spine, a sign that something is going to hell around him. It’s what’s been lurking at the edges of his perception, not strong enough to be identified as a threat, not weak enough to ignore.
All the past months - his coma, his recovery, their long, ongoing journey of adjustment, the work they put in at finding themselves, alone and together - it all comes crashing down on Pete and Vegas watches him powerlessly.
Pete stands, as though nailed to the spot, eyes unfocused, quiet for a long moment, then murmuring some things which are unintelligible until he physically beats them out of himself, his hands tapping the tops of his thighs, open-palmed, with every sentence he gets out.
“I don’t know. I never know. I know nothing, nothing. I can’t… I can’t pick.”
For a too long moment, Vegas hesitates. He wants to go over to Pete, hug him, help him snap out of this. But what if it's not what Pete needs and he makes it worse? What if he is not what Pete needs?
This is not about me,
Vegas reminds himself, closing the distance between them and wrapping Pete in his arms, gently, caressing his hair and sighing when he feels Pete’s cheek on his shoulder.
Pete crumbles in Vegas’ arms, shaking and crying, and Vegas soothes him with slow, repeated caresses to his back and up into his hair.
“I can’t choose. I don’t know how!” Pete says, interrupted by hiccups from crying so hard.
“I know.” Vegas says. “It was my mistake. You don’t have to choose if you don’t feel comfortable. I can take us to a cool place I know. We can drink, dance, and have a really nice meal there. How does that sound?”
“Dreamy.” Pete admits, pulling away to dry his eyes with the edges of his shirt sleeves. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what got into me.”
You’ve never lived for yourself
, Vegas thinks.
You’ve always chosen for others, but never for yourself, and now it seems terrifying and high stakes.
“It’s alright.” Vegas says, smiling gently at his boyfriend who’s been holding it together for them all, all this time. He deserves the help he needs in return. “Baby steps.”
They stay close, with Vegas hugging Pete tightly, caressing his hair, his back, his arms and slowly kissing the tears off his face until it starts to tickle and Pete smiles, trying to escape the continued assault of soft, pillowy lips.
He pulls away, watching Vegas with a look of wonder and relief.
Vegas brings their foreheads together and caresses Pete’s cheek with slow, deliberate movements.
“I am here. Let me in. Let me help - like you help us all the time. You don’t have to earn your place in our family.” He says, and for once he hopes that maybe he’s found the right things to say, because he feels Pete relax against him and smile against his lips.