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“You’re really not going to come?” Prapai asks, hooking his chin over Sky’s shoulder where he sits at the desk, a tiny model of yet another building sitting in front of him. Sky sighs, and okay, maybe three times is too many to ask the same question, but Prapai keeps hoping the answer will change.
“I can’t,” Sky says, reaching up to pat Prapai’s cheek, as though that will appease him. “This model is due tomorrow and I still have to glue all the landscape pieces and work on the presentation.”
Prapai expected that, but he still had hoped for something different. Leaning in, he presses a kiss to Sky’s ear, knowing it’ll make his skin tingle. He feels Sky twitch and smiles to himself.
“You could stay and help me,” Sky suggests, and it’s Prapai’s turn to sigh.
“You know I would,” he assures him, straightening up and letting his hands fall to Sky’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “But I made a deal with P’Pakin and I can’t miss any races.”
“I know,” Sky says, glancing up, and Prapai just wants to stay there as Sky’s eyes meet his. He wants to sit with Sky at the coffee table and spend all night gluing little pieces of paper together, listening to Sky talk him through the design, tell him the stories of Rain’s last-minute freak-outs. He’d rather do that, but he made a deal and he can’t go back on it for either of their sakes.
Leaning down, Prapai kisses Sky, lingering for just a moment against his lips, fingers cupping his jaw.
“What if you just come later?” he says, and Sky rolls his eyes, turning back to his project.
“P’Pai.”
It’s not a crazy suggestion, Prapai doesn’t think. The races usually go on for a few hours, and he likes having Sky there. He’s like a good luck charm, something he looks forward to at the end of every race, pulling him into a hug, pressing a kiss to his neck even as Sky looks scandalized.
Sky has been a very lucky charm for him lately. He’s been winning races by miles, and his dad has even given him a big client at work, one he’s been angling for for the last six months. Now he just has to prove he can handle it and he’ll get bigger and better clients instead of the pithy small clients that the lower-level executives should be working on. He knows part of it is because he skipped the lower levels, that he was brought on without having the suffer through working up the chain, but he can handle bigger projects.
“Will you wait up for me at least?” he asks, leaning in to press a kiss to Sky’s shoulder, lifting his eyebrows in his best pleading expression as Sky glances sideways at him.
“I promise I won’t go to sleep without you,” he says after a second, and while it’s not Sky coming to the race, at least it’s something.
Satisfied, at least for now, Prapai smiles as he steps back, searching for his jacket in the dorm room. He finds it slung across a shelf in the bedroom and pulls it on as he steps into the tiny living space. Sky is already hard at work on his model, as if Prapai is not there at all.
“I’ll be back,” Prapai promises, coming back to Sky and pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
“Good luck,” Sky says without looking up, and Prapai shakes his head. He doesn’t need luck because he’s got Sky.
*
“Where is your head today?” Payu asks from where he’s kneeling down inspecting the bike.
“Huh?” Prapai asks, looking away from the milling crowd, the lights flashing over the pavement, the girls dressed in tiny shorts and cut-off shirts, modeling the bikes, holding the racing flags.
“I’m talking and you’re not listening,” Payu says, as if that’s not a normal occurrence between them.
“I’m right here,” Prapai scoffs, turning to him, hands on his hips, inspecting the bike with Payu. He definitely hadn’t been thinking about Sky, about what he’s going to do once he gets back and slides into bed with him. “You’re the one who keeps bending over the bike like that.”
Payu’s eyebrow rises, daring. “What are you talking about?”
Prapai nods over his shoulder at Rain, who has been standing quietly by the tent pole for the last five minutes, clearly enjoying the show. “I’m talking about your boyfriend who’s about to cream his pants if you don’t stop.”
He isn’t surprised by the look Payu shoots him, as if he isn’t perfectly right about his observation. Payu does, however, turn to Rain behind him.
“Rain, come here,” he says, and Rain hurries to his side, eager.
“Yes, P’Payu?”
Payu slides an arm around his waist, as if to prove something to Prapai. “I want you to stay at my side tonight,” he says, and Rain nods easily.
Prapai doesn’t care if Payu’s boyfriend is checking out his ass. He’s allowed to. He wishes Sky was there do the same, especially when Rain looks at Payu all moony-eyed and love-sick. Why doesn’t Rain have a project to work on tonight? Why is he here and Sky is at home, engrossed in his model, ignoring Prapai?
He doesn’t get to ask Rain as he gets called away to race.
Rain probably had Payu help him, Prapai thinks as he straps on his helmet and pulls on his gloves, the chatter of the crowd white noise in his ears. He probably used his big eyes and pouty lips to get Payu to bestow his architecture wisdom on him. If Prapai had any architecture knowledge, he’d use it to make sure Sky had enough free time to come to races with him.
He only has business knowledge, though, and that’s useless when it comes to Sky’s studies and assignments. The most he can do is help glue things, which he doesn’t always do neatly enough, according to Sky.
Swinging his leg over the bike, he sighs, tries to push the thought out of his head, the annoyance that Rain is there and Sky is not. He just misses Sky is all, wishes he could be there. He’ll see him in a few hours, he reminds himself. It’s not as if they’re going to be apart for long. One evening. He can handle that. They’ve been apart for longer before.
Taking a deep breath, he tries to focus, revving the engine, glancing at his opponent beside him. He doesn’t know the guy, some new rider that Pakin has found, dressed in a deep blue rider’s suit, practically melting into the darkness on his bike.
The pit girl steps out in front of them, and Prapai has to stop thinking about Sky and the other racer and just focus on himself.
Engines roar as the girl holds up the flag, and Prapai hunches down on his bike. He’s done this a thousand times, has won a thousand times, and tonight’s not going to be any different.
The races are always a blur, the screech of tires against pavement, Prapai disappearing into black space of his mind as wind whips past him. He can only hear the roar of the engine, feel the vibration of the bike between his thighs as they zoom down the road. It’s always over so fast, and this time is no different except Prapai feels it, the prickle of something different as he approaches the finish line.
In the corner of his eye, he sees it, the other biker coming up, edging out his lead. Panic fills him a second before it happens, before the bike passes him, gripping the handles, he presses the accelerator, but it has nowhere to go, and the camera flashes seconds before Prapai crosses the finish line.
For the first time since Prapai can remember, the crowd is quiet as he and the other biker roll to a stop. He can hear his own heart beating as he sits on his motorcycle, doesn’t remove his helmet yet.
He lost. How could he lose?
He doesn’t remember the last time he lost, doesn’t remember this feeling that floods him as the crowd finally bubbles into conversation again, whispers behind their hands, a few heading over to congratulate the new winner.
Pulling off the helmet, Prapai shakes his head, confused. No one approaches him this time, and he glances up, wishing Sky was there, wishing he’d find his face in the crowd. But he doesn’t. It’s just him and this sinking feeling in his chest as he climbs off the bike and lets one of the assistants roll it away.
“P’Pai!” Rain runs up to him when he makes it back to the tent, eyes round with worry, surprise, as though he can feel it more than Prapai can at the moment. “You lost! Have you ever lost before?”
For a second, Prapai doesn’t know how to respond, pausing as he glances up, catching sight of Payu behind rain, his arms crossed, eyes narrowed like he’s thinking something Prapai doesn’t want to know.
So he puts on a smile and shakes his head at Rain, clapping his shoulder. “It’s no big deal, Rainy boy,” he assures him despite the tug in his stomach, the worry that maybe it is.
Racing is the one thing that’s his, something that doesn’t belong to his dad, a reputation he earned on his own. It’s something he’s good at, and something he’s been the best at. Until now.
Taking a breath, he tries not to let it get to him, not with Rain staring up at him like that.
“Everyone loses sometimes,” he says, and Rain nods seriously. He’s going to tell Sky, Prapai can already tell, is probably composing the text in his head as they speak.
“Rain,” Payu says, distracting Rain, coming up beside him and sliding a hand around his waist. “Come help me with this bike.”
Prapai won’t say he’s grateful, but he’s grateful when Payu pulls Rain away and he can let out a breath and try to figure out what the fuck just happened. How could he have lost?
It’s a one-time thing, he tells himself firmly, pushing away the doubt crowding in on his mind. Just a fluke. Like he said, everybody loses at some point. It just isn’t his night. Sky’s not there and he’s tired from work. That’s all it is. He’ll win it next time.
That’s what he tells himself even as he gazes out at the crowd, the new guy still receiving congratulations, and he shoves down the unease curling in his stomach. It’s just a race. Just one race.
*
Sky’s dorm is dark when Prapai slips through the door, the living room light turned off, but a soft yellow glow spills out of the bedroom as Prapai leaves his shoes by the door and drapes his jacket over the table. He spots Sky’s perfect little model sitting on the desk, finished now, ready for tomorrow.
Prapai pauses as he steps into the bedroom, eyes traveling over Sky, slumped down against the headboard, chin on his chest, eyes closed. It warms his heart, knowing Sky tried, tried to stay up. But it’s late, so Prapai doesn’t blame him for falling asleep.
Careful, he moves into the room, sliding the manga book from Sky’s lap and setting it on the table. Pulling off his shirt, he rummages in Sky’s drawer for something to wear to bed and leaves his pants folded on the chair. Pulling back the sheets, he slips in beside Sky, touching his shoulder gently until Sky stirs, jerks his head up.
“P’Pai,” he mutters, grimacing in the light, looking confused to find him there.
Prapai just pulls Sky down, under the covers, leaning over to switch off the lamp. He doesn’t realize he’s tense until Sky rolls into him, cheek snuggled against his shoulder, arm across his stomach.
“How was the race?” Sky mumbles, and Prapai lets out a breath, reaching up to stroke Sky’s hair. He doesn’t really want to talk about it, but Rain will tell Sky if he doesn’t. “You win?”
“No,” Prapai answers after a second, pressing his lips to Sky’s forehead, staring at the bookshelf on the wall, ambient light from the city coming through the window and falling over the shelves. “I didn’t win.”
It’s weird to say out loud, and Sky just sort of hums, cuddling closer, sighing tiredly.
“It’s not a big deal, right?” Sky murmurs, not sounding concerned, and Prapai doesn’t reply.
It’s really not, but then why does he feel like it is? Why does he want Sky to say something more bracing? It’s not Sky’s job to console him over something as stupid as losing a race, he reminds himself, pulling Sky closer and exhaling. He shouldn’t even dwell on it.
“Right,” he says finally, mumbling the word into Sky’s hair and closing his eyes.
It’s not a big deal, he repeats, focusing on the warmth of Sky’s body against his, holding him close and concentrating on falling asleep instead.
*
“You know he only got the ACI Group account because his dad runs the company.”
Standing the elevator, Prapai tries not to listen to the whispers behind him. He doesn’t know who it is in the small group of people that had crowded in on the first floor, but he can hear it clear as day.
“I heard he slept with the whole accounting department his first year,” another voice whispers.
“He’s not that good-looking.”
“Shh! He’s going to hear you.”
Prapai stares at the numbers over the door, willing the elevator to move faster. It’s not like he doesn’t know people talk about him—of course they do. Everyone gossips about the boss, whether they like him or not. But they don’t usually do it standing two feet behind him, hidden by a particularly tall man in a hat.
He doesn’t try to look, to find out who it is. He’s not interested in starting any problems with other employees.
Adjusting the jacket, he closes the front button and smooths down his tie. This elevator is moving as slow as molasses today, creeping up the floors until it finally reaches the top and he steps out first. The rest of the group scurries off behind him, and he catches a young woman tossing a glance his way before she disappears down a hallway.
He doesn’t have time to think too hard about it, about the rumors that follow him around the office, as Namtan hurries into his office the minute he sits down.
“Good morning,” she greets him briskly, her iPad already open to what he assumes is his schedule. “It’s a busy day today, so no slacking off.”
“I do work hard on occasion,” he says, the girl’s comment from the elevator sticking in his mind. Not everything in his life is a fortune of circumstance.
Namtan ignores him completely as she hands him a printed version of his schedule. “You’ve got meetings with ACI this morning and Khun Asnee wants to schedule a weekly check-in meeting going forward.”
Sighing, Prapai leans back in his chair. Of course his dad doesn’t trust that he can handle this project. Never mind that he’s been working at the company for the last three years and has yet to screw up an important deal. He still has to be babysat by his father to make sure he’s doing it right.
It’s bad enough that people think he gets special treatment—it’ll be worse if they find out he’s being micromanaged by his own father.
“We don’t need a check-in meeting,” he says, pushing the paper across his desk, back at Namtan. “I don’t need him looking over my shoulder.”
“I’m merely relaying what I’ve been told,” Namtan says, marking something down on the tablet. “He has a time slot open on Thursdays at three o’clock and his secretary is going to schedule it for then.”
Prapai doesn’t know why he bothers.
“What time is the meeting with ACI?” he asks instead.
“At ten,” Namtan says, scrolling down her screen. “In the meantime, there are some contracts you need to review and sign, and P’Komen says she has emailed you twice already about expense reports.”
“Yes, yes,” Prapai says, dismissive. “I’ll get back to her.”
Namtan lowers her tablet, shoots him a subtle look. “Please do, or she’ll come over to my desk again and I’ll have to listen to twenty minutes of nonsense about her dogs.”
Catching her eye, Prapai smiles. It’s nice to know he’s not the only one who is subjected to things he doesn’t want to hear.
“I will email her back,” he promises, and she takes a breath.
“Thank you. I’ll call you when the clients arrive.”
She leaves him alone in his office with just his emails for company. He has some prep work to do before the ACI Group arrives. It’s still early in the process, still the time Prapai has to convince them that he’s the one they want running their deal. If they decide he isn’t… Well, it’s best not to think about it right now.
Scrolling through his inbox, he answers the most pressing emails, including the latest from P’Komen. If he doesn’t, he’s fairly sure Namtan will find a way to punish him. Her punishments usually keep him at the office much longer than he’d like, and he can’t today.
By the time ten o’clock rolls around, Prapai is sick of sitting in front of his computer, grateful when Namtan comes to get him for the meeting.
“They’re all in the conference room,” she says as she leads him down the hall, handing him the list of attendees. He recognizes the few names he’s already met, and there are a couple new ones this time—he’ll have to remember them too.
Namtan opens the door for him, letting him in first before slipping in the back to take notes.
“Hello, hello,” Prapai greets the men in suits, bowing politely. “Nice to see you again. Please, sit.”
“These are our colleagues,” one of the men says, indicating the two new people in the room. One is a spindly-looking guy in an ill-fitting suit, and the other is a tall, thin woman in a sleek blue suit who gets introduced as Sarai.
“Nice to meet you,” he greets them both, and the woman doesn’t reply, smoothing her pony tail over her shoulder. He doesn’t pause to wonder at her reaction, or lack of it, moving around the table to take his seat.
He’s not usually nervous in these meetings, is usually great at talking about any subject that comes up, making the people across from him laugh and feel comfortable. But he is nervous this time, thinking about the meeting his father wants to have, how he’ll be waiting to hear every detail.
Pushing the thought aside, Prapai tries not think about it, to stay engaged as they go over the project specs. He can’t help noticing the way the woman across the table watches him throughout the whole meeting. She doesn’t add anything to the discussion except to point out that they’re on a short timeline to get things done. The way she says it, and everyone else agrees with her, it’s as though she’s the authority.
Normally, he wouldn’t question a woman’s eyes drifting to him again and again, but it doesn’t feel like it usually does. It doesn’t feel appreciative, interested. Instead, it feels cool, and he doesn’t know why.
When the meeting finally ends, on a relatively successful note, he thinks, Sarai lingers behind the group leaving the room. Namtan stands to the side with Prapai, bidding them goodbye.
“You don’t remember me, do you?” she asks when she’s in front of Prapai, the last to leave.
Fuck.
Blinking, he shakes his head easily, putting on his most charming smile. “I’m sorry, were you in the last meeting? I think I would remember someone as beautiful as you.”
She smiles, but it’s not an amused smile, tilting her chin up. “Actually it was last year, at a party at my former employer. Thai Bank?”
A moment flashes across Prapai’s brain, a memory of a sparkly black cocktail dress, a broken desk chair, ducking out without his pants even buttoned up all the way and a vow never to drink at a Thai Bank party again. He smiles despite the feeling of something strangling his heart.
“Yes,” he says after a minute, taking a breath. “That was quite a party.”
She hums in response, her smile tight, and he doesn’t feel very sure of himself as they stand there in the opulent conference room, sconce lights reflecting off the mahogany-covered walls.
“It was,” she agrees.
“Well, glad to see you here with ACI,” he says, moving towards the door, hoping she’ll follow.
“I wasn’t left with much choice.”
Prapai doesn’t ask what she means by that, is fairly sure he doesn’t want to know. He doesn’t remember a lot from that night, and clearly didn’t remember her face at all.
“I’m sure ACI is happy to have you,” he says anyway, gesturing towards the door. “And I look forward to working with you. I’m sure it’s going to be a great project.”
“Yes, I’ll be seeing you,” she says, and it doesn’t really reassure him as she turns to the door and finally steps out.
He waits until she’s all the way down the hall with her group before he lets out his breath. This isn’t going to be good.
Namtan steps up to his side, peering down the hall, glancing at him. “Do I need to know what happened there?”
“I’m not really sure,” he admits. He just remembers the crash of the chair, someone barging in as he tried to get his pants up, but he hadn’t stuck around to find out what happened next.
“Do I need to manage it?” she asks next, and Prapai steps back.
“No,” he says after a second. “I can handle it.” He’s had plenty of one-night stands, in fact, almost exclusively one-night stands until Sky came along, and he’s never had a problem with any of them.
Namtan doesn’t reply, but she watches him, and he ignores her. He’ll handle it.
*
Gazing up at the tall grey building, sunlight glinting off the windows, Prapai sighs as his mind drifts to Sarai again, the way she watched him the whole meeting. He hopes this is not going to derail the entire project. He needs this project to go well, to prove to his dad that he can be trusted with higher priority things, to prove to the rest of the company that he’s not just the CEO’s son.
He doesn’t need some one-time hookup to mess it up.
He doesn’t need to worry about it now, he thinks, perking up from where he leans against the cement block as the doors swing open and Sky steps out, hooking his book bag over his shoulder.
Sky doesn’t look surprised to find Prapai there, and he shouldn’t be. He seems even less surprised when Prapai holds up the bag of sticky rice and mango.
“I brought a snack,” he says, and Sky smiles as he reaches him, accepting the kiss Prapai presses to his cheek despite the people milling about. He jerks his head across the street. “Let’s go eat it in the park.”
He smiles, the stress from earlier melting away as Sky links his arm with Prapai’s and they cross the street, stepping into the greenery of the little park. They pass the man-made stream, finding a bench hidden from the path, surrounded by pink flowers.
“How was it today?” Prapai asks as they sit down and he takes out the chopsticks, breaking them apart.
Sky shrugs, gazing out at the water, the duck paddling along the edge. It’s a nice day, the sun shining, the plants a brilliant shade of green around them. “It was kind of hard, I guess,” he says, glancing over when Prapai hands him the chopsticks and offers the bag.
Prapai doesn’t ask what Sky talked about with his therapist. He never asks even if he wants to know. If Sky wants to share, he will.
“Yeah?” he says simply, watching Sky, how he looks drained. “Eat.”
Sky shoots him a look, as though Prapai is annoying, but he digs out a piece of mango and pops it in his mouth.
“We talked about… about Gun,” Sky says as they sit there, and Prapai keeps his mouth shut. He hates hearing about Gun, that Sky has to talk about it in therapy, but that’s probably the whole point. “About the things he put on me and how my only responsibility should be to myself. She said that I avoid facing my problems by distracting myself with other people’s.”
Prapai doesn’t answer right away, setting the bag down between them. He glances at Sky, taking his free hand, sliding their palms together. Sky glances down. “What does that mean?”
Sky shrugs again. “She thinks I should focus on myself more.”
He doesn’t disagree with that statement. Sky has been through enough that he doesn’t need to take on other people’s problems. The whole point of therapy is to help him work through it, and from the sounds of things, it’s a difficult process.
Bringing Sky’s hand to his lips, he presses a kiss to the back, glad when Sky doesn’t yank his hand away like he once did.
“You should.”
Rolling his eyes, Sky can’t hide his smile, and Prapai pokes gently at his cheek. Success. He just needs Sky to smile after therapy and all will be right with the world.
“Yeah, well,” Sky says, untangling his hand from Prapai’s so he can grab the bag and take a large bite of rice. “How was work?”
Work. Prapai looks away. He could tell Sky all about Sarai and the project and the fact that his dad doesn’t trust him to get the job done. He’s halfway to opening his mouth when he stops. Sky doesn’t need to hear it, doesn’t need additional, petty things to worry about. He’s already got school and therapy and every that happened with Gun. Prapai’s problems are tiny in comparison. He doesn’t need to burden Sky with his stupid complaints.
Sky will probably just say it isn’t a big deal, like he did with the race, and he’s probably right. Sky should be focusing on himself, like the therapist said.
“It’s fine,” he says instead, brushing away a flower petal that flutters onto his sleeve, “boring. You should come by sometime and make it more interesting.”
“I think P’Namtan will kill us if we fuck on the conference table again,” Sky says, and Prapai smiles, ruffling his hair.
“She doesn’t need to know.”
“She knows everything,” Sky points out, and Prapai can’t exactly argue.
He slips an arm around Sky’s shoulder and presses a kiss to his neck. “That’s the challenge,” he says, cheeky, laughing when Sky elbows him.
“She’ll know,” Sky says again, but he does glance at Prapai as they sit there, birds twittering in the trees above them. “But I think I might have left a textbook in your office.”
“Did you?” Prapai asks, smirking. “You’ll just have to come by and pick it up.”
Sky doesn’t reply, but he does laugh as Prapai peppers him with kisses and they sit back to watch the family of ducks navigating the stream. Prapai sighs as he watches Sky finish off the mangoes. Prapai isn’t going to bother him with his insignificant problems. He just wants Sky to be happy, and that’s enough for him.
*
I’m afraid these contracts aren’t going to work for us and need to be reworked. We need them by the end of the day at the latest to ensure we can close on the property next week and get the entitlements in order. You understand, of course, the importance of this property to the success of this project and any future endeavors we may have with your company.
Prapai sighs as he rereads Sarai’s email, tapping his fingers on the keyboard. To make it worse, his father is copied on the message, along with Namtan, as if Prapai can’t take care of it himself.
Glancing out the window, he watches the rain slide down the pane, a wet morning so far, storms interspersed with brief bursts of clear sky that last only five minutes at a time. He doesn’t have time to sky-gaze, but he needs a second before he has to redo all these contracts to Sarai’s specifications. The PDF sits on his screen, marked all in red with notes of things she wants changed.
He can’t just make changes because she wants them. He has to talk to legal and figure out what they can and can’t do. All by the end of the day.
Looking up at a knock on the open doorway, he finds Namtan there, a cup of coffee in her hands that she sets down on his desk without waiting for him to invite her in.
Her eyes dart to the screen, and Prapai knows she recognizes the email.
“You have a conference at nine with the Hong Kong branch, but I’ve made an excuse. The contract changes have already been sent to legal to review.”
Annoyed, Prapai reaches for the coffee, blowing on the surface. “Thank you,” he says anyway, even if he wishes it wasn’t necessary. The contracts they sent originally were perfectly fine and there shouldn’t have been a problem. He glances up when Namtan doesn’t leave yet. “Something else?”
Namtan glances at the open door, but there’s no one outside the office. She lowers her voice anyway. “I know what happened at Thai Bank, with Khun Sarai.”
Prapai supposes he could ask, find out exactly why she seems to despise him. It can’t just be because he never called her after? He hadn’t even remembered her name let alone her face. But he doesn’t need to know. All he needs to know is that she doesn’t like him and she’s making that very clear with her demands.
“It doesn’t matter.” He shakes his head. “All that matters is that we get this project done and done right.”
She nods, seriously, folding her hands before her. “Yes, P’Pai,” she agrees. “I will let you know when legal has finished reviewing.”
Turning back to the window, Prapai closes his eyes for a second. His father is going to read that email and think he’s doing something wrong, that he’s sent the wrong contracts or that he can’t keep to the deadlines. He can’t let this project fall apart because of some former hook-up that he barely remembers.
Lightening flashes in the distance, and it doesn’t make him feel any better as rain batters the window. He’s dealt with difficult clients before, but they’ve never been so determined to make his life hard. This isn’t even the first email from Sarai. There was one yesterday about the deadlines changing, everything moving up a week. There was the email he’d received at five AM, the first thing to pop up on his screen when he reached over Sky to silence the pinging alarm. He doesn’t know what could be so important at five AM, but apparently it had been, her thoughts on how he could do a better job organizing the meetings in the future.
He’s trying to be polite, email back his most well-thought-out responses since she copies his father on every single one. But he’s beginning to dread every new email that pops up in his inbox.
His phone vibrating brings him out of his thoughts, and Prapai moves back to the desk, picking the phone off the desk.
Grimacing at Pakin’s name, he takes a breath and puts on his best smile even though he can’t see him. The last thing he needs right now is for Pakin to ask him for a favor that he can’t refuse.
“P’Pakin,” he greets him cheerfully. “What can I do for you?”
“Pai,” Pakin responds, not nearly as cheerful. “I want to talk to you about last weekend.”
Swallowing down the sudden climb of his pulse into his throat, Prapai nods. “Yes, of course.”
“I don’t expect you to lose,” Pakin says, perfectly calm, and normally, Prapai wouldn’t be worried by his call. But normally, he doesn’t lose his races. “People lost a lot of money last week.”
“Yes, I understand,” Prapai says. He’s not unaware of what it costs to lose a race for Pakin, and not just monetarily. He’s built his reputation as the best racer in the circuit, and people bet a lot of money on him to win. He’s never had a problem before, never had to worry about what people were winning or losing in the betting. He’s always had Pakin on his side, but that was when he was winning.
“You had an off-week, that’s fine,” Pakin says, and though he doesn’t sound upset, something crawls down Prapai’s spine at his words. “But don’t let it become a habit. We have a deal, you and I, remember?”
“Yes,” Prapai agrees, nodding. “We do.” He’s never been scared of Pakin, even though he knows what he can do, what he could do to Prapai or anyone else if he wants. He’s always felt untouchable in a sense, but he’s not. He’s just another racer that can get into trouble as easily as anyone else.
“Glad to hear,” Pakin says. “We’ll see you at the track.”
“You will,” he says, his heart beating fast even as the phone clicks and Pakin is gone.
Letting out a breath, he drops the phone on the desk. As much as he wants to think there’s nothing to worry about, he can’t quite convince himself of it. One race could be the difference between safety and something far worse.
Pulling himself together, he can’t let anyone think something is going on. Nothing is going on. He just has to be careful at races from now on, concentrate harder, pour in everything he’s got into the races. He can do that.
His computer makes a little noise as a new email arrives and Prapai can’t help how his heart sinks at Sarai’s name in the sender field. Bracing himself, he reaches for the mouse and clicks. What’s one more thing to add to the growing list of problems?
*
The condo is quiet, far enough off the street that no noise of rushing traffic permeates the windows, and Prapai lies awake, staring at the dark ceiling. Beside him, Sky snuffles into the pillow and rolls onto his side, mumbling words he can’t make out.
It’s a new condo, not the same one from all those months ago, the one filled with bad memories. For a while, they simple hadn’t gone back, but there was no point in letting it sit there, so Prapai had finally sold it. This new place seems a fresh start with all new furniture, new linens that are slippery soft under his fingers as he runs them over the bedspread.
He should be asleep, or at least appreciating the warmth of Sky beside him, but he’s not. Instead, he’s lying awake, thinking about Pakin and Sarai and his meeting with his father earlier that afternoon.
”If you can’t handle the client—” his dad had said, and Prapai shook his head sharply.
“I can handle it. She’s just temperamental.”
He still remembers the look his father had given at that, the doubt, the suspicion that it’s Prapai messing up somehow. He wants to not care—he tries not to care. He’s spent a good portion of his life pretending he doesn’t care about his father’s approval, despite everything proving to the contrary.
Glancing at Sky, Prapai reaches over to pull the covers up over his shoulder. He’s not usually the one up in the middle of the night.
He hasn’t told Sky about Sarai—every time Sky asks about work, he glosses over the answer, changes the subject. He knows Sky doesn’t like being reminded of Prapai’s past dalliances, and one popping up to make his life hell at work isn’t any better. Besides, Sky needs someone who isn’t an emotional burden. He needs someone strong, someone he can rely on, and Prapai’s problems at work and at the races aren’t things that make him strong for Sky.
“Hmm.”
Prapai looks over as Sky makes a noise, shuffles a little under the covers, legs twitching. The peaceful edge of sleep is gone, replaced by a furrowed brow, eyes shut tight, fingers jerking.
“No,” Sky mumbles, clutching the pillow. “No, no.”
Leaning over, Prapai places a careful hand on his shoulder. “Sky?” he says, quiet at first, surprised when Sky jerks around, still asleep, anguish all over his face as he groans.
“Don’t. Stop. Please,” Sky breathes, pained, and Prapai grips harder.
“Sky, wake up,” he says firmly, pulling Sky into his chest even as Sky’s body twists, trying to escape him. “It’s okay, you’re okay. I’m here,” he assures him, smoothing Sky’s hair, feeling when Sky wakes up, hearing the gasp against his chest as his eyes fly open.
“P’Pai?” Sky asks, breathless, and Prapai can feel his heart beating against his, fast, panicked.
“I’m here,” he says again, stroking his hair gently, feeling Sky let out a breath and relax finally.
“Sorry,” Sky mutters after a moment of silence, and Prapai shakes his head. He doesn’t need to apologize for anything.
“Go back to sleep,” he says instead, pressing a kiss to Sky’s forehead and keeping his arms wrapped around him as they settle back down.
What would Sky think if he knew? If he knew that Prapai losing another race could mean dangerous things? That Sarai is out to ruin this project out of some sort of ill-timed spite? Would he still want Prapai around?
Prapai knows that Sky knows he’s not perfect—Sky has known it since the very beginning, but it’s always been part of his charm. It’s always been fun and surprising, but now it’s unsure and confusing.
Sky needs someone who can take care of him, who can be there for him. He doesn’t need someone who is dealing with exes he can’t even remember. Sky would think the worst if he knew, if he knew that Prapai can barely remember what happened with Sarai, has no idea why she is so upset with him. He doesn’t want to confirm that fear for Sky, that Prapai could be that person who doesn’t even remember everyone he’s slept with.
He would think the worst, and he would be right.
Lying there, he tucks his face into Sky’s neck and takes a breath to calm himself. Closing his eyes, he tries to let it go, the pressure settling on his chest. He needs to be strong for Sky. He can do that.
*
“Heard you got a call from P’Pakin.”
Prapai tears his gaze away from the window looking into the shop’s lobby where Rain and Sky are clearly arguing about something. He can’t hear through the glass, but he can see the way Sky’s eyebrows shoot up and the curl to his lip, putting on his best bitch face at whatever Rain is saying.
He glances at Payu instead, the grease on his coveralls, the wrench in his hand as he shoots Prapai a knowing look.
“Heard from who?” he asks, not particularly interested in watching Payu tinker with the car’s engine, only here because he’s supposed to be picking up Sky who came with Rain after class.
“Chai,” Payu replies, as if anyone else would tell him.
“Since when do you care about race gossip?” Prapai asks, looking away, back to Sky inside. If Payu has heard, there’s no telling how many other people know. It doesn’t reassure him.
Sky catches his eye through the window, and despite his argument with Rain, he smiles at him. It takes all of Prapai’s strength to smile back, not because he doesn’t want to. He just keeps thinking how disappointed Sky would be if he knew about what was happening, if he knew that Prapai was not handling this project well at work, knew that he has to face Sarai and her increasing demands every other day. If he knew about Pakin’s heavily-implied requirement to keep winning.
“Chai doesn’t gossip,” Payu says, rounding the open hood of the car to where Prapai stands, watching Sky. He looks from Sky to Prapai. “You should tell him.”
Frowning, Prapai turns to watch Payu wiping oil off the wrench with the sleeve of his coveralls.
He doesn’t like the swoop in his stomach as he looks back to Sky, watching the way he bats Rain’s hand away from him. He looks perfectly carefree, as if he doesn’t have all those things weighing on him. Prapai’s not going to add one more.
“There’s nothing to tell,” he says finally, breezy, clapping Payu on the shoulder. “I’m not going to lose again. It was just a fluke.”
Payu’s eyes narrow slightly in that way he does when he knows Prapai isn’t telling the truth. Prapai kind of hates it, especially right now.
“You can’t guarantee that.”
Shaking his head, Prapai jerks his shoulders. “Sky’s got enough to deal with.”
He hears Payu’s exhale through the nose, knows he disagrees. But it’s not Payu’s decision to make, and Prapai shoves away the weight in his stomach as Rain and Sky leave the lobby and come around to the garage.
“P’Pai, tell Rain there’s a hidden bar at Benchakitti Park,” Sky says even as Rain whines.
“There is not!”
“There is,” Prapai says, glancing at Payu beside him. “You haven’t taken him there? Or can’t you get in?”
“Asshole,” Payu says, and Prapai smirks and slides his arm around Sky’s shoulders, turning to Rain.
“He might not be cool enough to get you in, but you can come with us sometime.”
“P’Payu is the coolest!” Rain insists, looking almost scandalized that Prapai would suggest otherwise. “He can get in anywhere.”
“Apparently not,” Prapai says, and Payu glares.
“Just go,” he says, and Prapai laughs, feeling more normal as he guides Sky towards his own car outside.
“We’ll call you from the bar,” he promises, darting to avoid the oil-stained rag Payu tosses at him. Beside him, Sky shakes his head.
“You love causing trouble, don’t you?”
“Only the good kind,” Prapai says, tugging Sky’s mouth to his for a kiss as they reach the car. Reaching around, he pulls the door open for Sky and lets him slide in first. As he shuts it behind him, he catches Payu watching him from the garage, arms crossed, and the unease returns as Prapai rounds the car to the driver’s side and shuts the door behind him.
*
Sarai folds her arms on the table top, eyes on Prapai across from her. The other businessmen around the table haven’t said much, deferring to Sarai as if she’s in charge. She hasn’t taken her eyes off Prapai except to flip through the papers in front of her and make disparaging remarks about the changes.
“It’s what we discussed,” Prapai says as her eyes flick again to the papers. They’ve already been over the contracts a million times, made all the changes. “Everything is in order. We’re ready to move forward and get you started.”
Sarai flips back to the first page, twining her fingers together, long nail tapping gently. He doesn’t know why she hates him, but he hasn’t been able to charm her out of it. He’s doing everything she asks, no matter how ridiculous. This morning, he’d come into the office at six in the morning just to ensure that everything was ready for this meeting. He’s never done that for any other client.
“We closed on the property last week,” she says. “We expect you to stick to the deadlines we’ve set for design and development.”
“Our team is more than capable of meeting your expectations,” Prapai assures her. “We’ve been in the real estate business for over fifty years and worked on many complicated projects.”
Sarai smiles, but it’s not a nice smile, makes Prapai want to crawl into a hole. Never before has a smile caused him so much anxiety.
“That’s good to hear,” she says, glancing at the man next to her, who says nothing. “We were talking this morning, the team and I, and we think there’s room for improvement in the process. We want the whole package done by the 3rd, not the 12th.”
“That’s only two weeks away,” Prapai says, frowning, “Our team is working on other projects too.”
Sarai’s smile stays on, her eyes cold. “Then I suppose that’s up to you to work out.”
She’s doing it on purpose, and Prapai can’t help the breath he lets out, not quite a scoff. He wants to tell her it’s impossible, that it’s demanding far too much from people who have other things they’re working on. He’ll have to work night and day to get it done, tell people they’ll have to work on the weekends, late into the night. That will help with his reputation.
He’s not going to get out of it, though, as she watches him, waiting for him to buckle.
“I suppose we will,” he agrees finally, rising when she does to show her to the door.
“You’re so accommodating, Khun Prapai,” she says, completely devoid of sincerity, and Prapai somehow manages to keep his smile on all the way to the elevator, falling the second the doors close behind them.
“I heard he got her fired from Thai Bank.”
He hears the whisper as he heads for the break room, desperately in need of something to soothe the headache forming in his left temple. Trying to ignore it, he shakes his head and walks faster. The gossip in this building is ridiculous.
In the kitchen, he sighs at the kettle, taking it to the sink to fill it. It’s bad enough that Sarai dislikes him so much, but she doesn’t need to take it out on the whole company in the process.
“—friend works at Thai Bank and she told me they got caught having sex on the president’s desk—”
Prapai looks up but whoever was talking is already gone down the hall. Up to this point in his life, he’s never much considered the consequences of his past hookups beyond being a sore point with Sky. Clearly, he should have because it’s coming back to bite him now.
Pulling out his phone, he brings up Sky’s messages, hesitating as he stares at the keyboard.
Baby, I’m gonna have to cancel dinner tonight and probably the rest of the week. I have a ton of work to do on this project. I’ll make it up to you.
He adds a heart emoji but it doesn’t feel like enough even as he sends it. He’s worked late on projects before and Sky has never complained, but it feels like lying somehow, knowing he hasn’t told Sky everything.
But Sky doesn’t need to know and would probably be upset that Prapai is working with Sarai given their history. Sky doesn’t need to be upset over something that means nothing.
He doesn’t get an answer from Sky right away and tucks the phone away as the kettle clicks off, ready to pour. Sighing, he grabs a porcelain cup from the neat row hanging in the cupboard. He just has to get through this project and everything will be fine. His dad will know he can handle difficult clients and bigger projects and maybe the rest of the company will follow suit.
*
The office is quiet—most people have gone home, and Prapai sent Namtan home an hour ago. She deserves to at least see her own home this week even if he can’t.
It’s dark outside the window, and Prapai sighs at the document open on his computer. He can’t see anything wrong with it, but he knows Sarai will. She’ll keep asking for more until there’s no more to give. Prapai is trying not to worry about what happens when they hit that threshold.
His dad made a comment earlier that’s stuck in his head as he squeezes his eyes shut against the blue light of the monitor and takes a long breath.
”You need to learn how to satisfy different client’s needs, Pai, and if you can’t do that, we can’t be successful as a business.”
Letting out the sigh, Prapai’s head snaps up at the gentle knock on the door frame.
“Sky,” he says, surprised to find Sky in the doorway, a bag filled with food in his hand that he holds up.
“Hungry?”
Rising from his chair, Prapai moves to greet him, still surprised he’s there. “What are you doing?” he asks, taking the food, setting it onhis desk, and pulling Sky inside the office by his shirttails.
It isn’t that he’s not happy to see Sky. He is, he just wishes he actually had time to spend with him, but he’s got so much work to do and so little time to do it in.
Sky shrugs easily, hands sliding to Prapai’s shoulders, and Prapai feels his stomach drop. “Thought you’d be hungry, and while I was here, maybe we can look for that book I left?”
Prapai would like nothing more than to shove everything off his desk and bend Sky over it, but he can’t. He can’t, he tells himself firmly even as Sky looks at him like that, eyes big, a smirk at the corner of his mouth. He loves when Sky is in this mood, when he bites his lip and lets his gaze slide down Prapai’s suit, his tie pulled apart now that it’s late and there’s no one around, his hair mussed from how many times he’s run his hands through it today in frustration.
Groaning, Prapai has to let go of Sky, retreat behind the desk despite Sky’s confused look.
“I can’t,” he says, hates that he has to say it, hates the way Sky’s eyebrows go up.
“Can’t?” Sky repeats, rounding the desk to where Prapai is trying to be strong, to not think about picking Sky up and setting him on the desk, sliding between his legs and forgetting all about Sarai and the project and everything else. He just wants things to be how they were before he lost that race, before he found out he’d be working with a woman who is determined to make his life hard.
“Sky,” Prapai says, tensing as Sky’s hands slide up his chest, urging his body not to respond. It’s a difficult request when he’s got Sky in front of him, practically offering him the things he thinks about all the time. He’s thought about taking Sky in his office a dozen times, but that’s when he doesn’t have an insane deadline to meet with a client who will have his head if he doesn’t meet it. And he needs this project to go well.
“P’Pai,” Sky replies, quieter, leaning into Prapai’s neck, and it’s torture for Prapai to lean away, hands on Sky’s waist to hold him back.
“I c—I can’t,” Prapai says again, more to himself than anything, eyes shut tight against the ghost of Sky’s breath on his neck, and he feels it pull away.
Sky is looking at him when Prapai finally opens his eyes, eyebrows furrowed, as if trying to make sense of it. Prapai has never turned him down before, is usually the one trying to get into Sky’s pants.
“Is everything okay?” Sky asks a second later, and the last thing Prapai wants is for Sky to think there’s something wrong with him.
Reaching out, he pulls Sky’s lips to his for a kiss that can’t go any further, hoping to reassure him. He pulls back slowly, lingering against his mouth, wanting just a few more seconds to feel normal. “It’s fine. I just have a ton of work.”
“Work,” Sky repeats, eyes darting over his face, like he’s looking for the lie. It isn’t a lie, even though Prapai is hit with an unfamiliar wave of guilt. He’s not telling Sky everything, but Sky doesn’t need to know that he’s finally getting his comeuppance for sleeping around, that this whole situation is his own making. He’d probably say he deserves it, and he wouldn’t be wrong exactly.
“Work,” Prapai echoes, gesturing at the open documents on the screen behind Sky, the piles of paperwork he still needs to review. He brings Sky’s chin back to him, sighing. “You know I’d much rather have you for dinner.”
The line barely works as Sky frowns, rolls his eyes, but he seems to accept it. His fingers curl into Prapai’s shirt as he drops his chin and chews on his lip.
“P’Payu’s out of town this weekend,” he says finally. “Rain wants to go to the beach.”
“You should go,” Prapai says, sliding a hand around Sky’s waist. “I’ll probably be at the office anyway.”
Sky glances up. “Rain will just talk about P’Payu the whole time and I’ll have to hear about their sex life.”
“Well, you can just talk about me,” Prapai says, smiling slightly when Sky makes a face. “Tell him about that time on the back of the bike.”
“I don’t want to kill him,” Sky says, but he’s smiling finally, and Prapai feels relief as he takes a breath. Maybe he can use this weekend to finally get on top of everything.
“Then maybe just the time in the restaurant bathroom,” Prapai suggests as Sky rolls his eyes.
“You should get back to work,” he says, stepping away, and Prapai is loath to let him, but he does, shirt slipping from between his fingers.
“Oh, I know,” Prapai says as Sky reaches the door. “That time in the pool.”
“Goodnight,” Sky replies, pointed, and Prapai can’t help but smile as Sky steps out and disappears into the hall. He’s mildly satisfied that Sky doesn’t suspect anything is wrong as he turns his gaze to the food he brought.
If only he felt the same, that everything was fine. It’s going to be fine, he tells himself. He’s not going to screw this up.
Opening the bag, he pulls out the food, breathing in the delectable scent wafting up. It’s from his favorite place, and he sighs as he glances up at the door where Sky no longer is. He’s not sure he deserves such thoughtfulness from Sky, but he has it.
*
Sky texts him, photos of Rain making terrible sand castles, sunsets turning the sky gold and pink and blue, a sparkly shell he finds amongst the rocks, but Prapai can’t enjoy it.
He can’t enjoy Sky having a great time on the beach when he’s up to his eyeballs in emails from Sarai, demanding he change one thing after another, never to her satisfaction.
One text from Sky, followed by an email from Sarai, and Prapai wants to groan every time. He can’t remember a time he’s been this stressed over a project. Nothing he does is going to be good enough for her.
He knows when Sky gets back on Sunday night, sends a food delivery to meet him at the dorm when Prapai can’t be there in person. He still has more work to do before the meeting on Monday with Sarai, a check-in where she will surely change some other aspect of the project and leave him scrambling to make it work.
I’ll meet you after therapy tomorrow, he writes to Sky, already thinking of which snack he’s going to bring. Sky usually needs a pick-me-up after and he’s happy to do what little he can.
When he arrives at the office the next day, he already knows his schedule before Namtan bustles in bright and early with his usual coffee.
“I want to prep for the meeting early today,” he tells her, “and I want the team there so they can answer any technical questions.”
To his surprise, Namtan doesn’t agree immediately, clasping her fingers together in front of her stomach.
“What?”
“The meeting has been pushed,” she says delicately, and Prapai frowns.
“Pushed? By who?”
She pauses, and it doesn’t assure Prapai that things are fine. “Your father wants to meet with you this afternoon,” she says instead of answering the question. “I’ve set it up for three o’clock in his office.”
“Wait,” he says as she turns to leave. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know,” she admits. “I just know he wants to meet and the client is being rescheduled.”
Prapai doesn’t quite believe that she’s telling him everything, and his stomach swoops, unexpectedly, as she looks away. Meetings being rescheduled are typically not a good sign, especially when he’s spent the last week busting his ass to make sure everything is right.
He doesn’t know what to say, though, as he sits back in his chair, turning his gaze to the window as she leaves. He should be relieved that the meeting isn’t today, that they have a little more time, but it makes him uneasy. Sarai wouldn’t miss an opportunity to make him jump through hoops.
And this meeting with his father… Somehow he doubts it’s to tell him he’s doing a great job.
The worst part of all of it is knowing he has to wait until three to find out.
Prapai doesn’t know how he gets through the morning, reviewing the meeting notes, drinking too much coffee, trying not to think about what his dad will have to say.
He’s ready before Namtan comes to remind him, buttoning his jacket and heading down the hall to his father’s office.
His dad isn’t usually in, is usually off traveling somewhere, dealing with other branches, leaving Prapai to his own devices. He doesn’t spend much of his time in his office, and he looks a little out of place as Prapai steps up to the door.
The office is much like Prapai’s, except the furniture which is heavier, less modern, made of a dark wood. There are pictures behind the desk, of Prapai, Phan, Plerng and their mom, but Prapai has always thought they were more for show than anything.
“Come in,” his father says, looking up from his phone, “and shut the door.”
Prapai does as he’s told, unusually nervous. “Is this about ACI?” he asks, coming over to the desk but not taking a seat. “Because I’ve got everything under control.”
“I don’t think that’s quite accurate,” his dad says, smoothing down his black jacket, thin fingers turning his phone face-down on the desk. “Khun Sarai called me over the weekend.”
Prapai’s heart falls at his words. He can only imagine what she might have said.
“She’s had a problem with me this whole time, but we’ve met every deadline, made every change she wanted. The project is on schedule.”
His dad pauses, bringing his fingers to his mouth in that way he does when he’s thinking how to word things.
“She wants you off the project,” he says finally, and Prapai’s mouth falls open.
“What? That’s ridiculous. I haven’t done anything to her.”
His dad’s gaze is sharp as it swivels back to him. “That’s not what I understand. Did you not have relations with her in the past?”
Prapai can’t argue that, but he does sigh. “It wasn’t anything serious. I barely remember it.”
“Clearly she does,” his dad says, serious, and Prapai watches as he gets up to move to the window, gazing down at the street below. He looks back at Prapai. “And if your irresponsible past is going to threaten your present, I have no choice but to remove you from the project.”
All the breath feels like it’s knocked from his chest as Prapai stands behind the chair, fingers digging into the leather.
“But I’ve been working on this for weeks,” he says, staring at his dad, the way his mouth goes tight. “You can’t just take it away.”
His dad sighs. “I had hoped that your relationship with Sky would allay my concerns, but given your history, there is no guarantee that the next project won’t be the same. If you can’t be responsible for your own past, how can I trust you to handle anything moving forward?”
“How could I know Khun Sarai would be on this project?” he asks, feeling his heart beating hard in his chest. He couldn’t have predicted that, that his first big project would involve someone who so clearly does not like him.
“It’s not about her,” his dad says firmly, returning to the desk, pressing his palms to the top. “It’s about your irresponsible choices and how they impact this company. You made a mistake and now you’re paying for it. If I don’t remove you, she will pull this project. ACI is an important account that we can’t afford to lose.”
“I know,” Prapai says quickly, swallowing down the lump in his throat as he listens, feeling as small as a child as his father looms over the desk, a hard look in his eye.
“I just don’t know if you can handle things like this,” he says. “How likely is it to happen again? What if the next time, they tell their clients and it spreads around that we can’t meet client needs?”
Licking his lips, Prapai doesn’t know how to respond. He doesn’t know what will happen next time, if his father will ever let him run a project again with this always in the back of his mind. Maybe he doesn’t deserve to run projects.
“I’ll be handling the project personally,” his dad says after a long minute as Prapai stand there, feeling stupid and small and useless, his heart sinking in his chest. “I don’t want you around when they come for meetings. I don’t want you working on client deals until we can assess the damage.”
It’s exactly what he feared, and he can’t say anything to defend himself, numb as he tries to take a breath but it gets caught in his throat. He already knows what the whispers are going to be once this gets around.
“He slept with the client and now he only does internal projects.”
“He only got that project because of his dad anyway. He shouldn’t have been on it in the first place. If they’d given it to someone more senior, this wouldn’t have happened.”
“He gets everything handed to him.”
His father glances at him, with that disappointed look on his face, as if Prapai has done this on purpose, ruined his only chance to prove he’s not just there because they’re family.
“I need you to be more responsible if you’re going to succeed here,” he says, and Prapai can’t even nod, staring unseeingly at the name plate on the desk. “I don’t want to have to clean up your messes.”
He feels empty as his dad’s words ring through him, filled with disappointment, ruined expectations. He can’t do anything right, it seems, no matter how hard he works, and that’s the only thought filling his head as his dad sighs and takes his seat again.
“Now go,” he says, waving Prapai towards the door. “I have feathers to smooth and a relationship to save.”
Swallowing, Prapai turns, his feet like lead as he opens the door and steps into the hall. He’s never felt this small before, not since he was twelve and got sent home from school for defending a kid from a bully. His parents hadn’t asked why he was fighting, had only punished him for doing it, made him feel like he’d made the wrong choice.
He feels the same now as he walks down the hall, past offices and windows and conference rooms, not seeing any of it. It’s all a blur as he stands at the doorway to his office, head foggy, clouded with echoes of his father’s voice, shouting words like irresponsible and mistake.
He doesn’t want to be here, he realizes as a phone rings in the distance. He can’t be here. Grabbing his keys, he doesn’t even know where he’s going. He just knows it won’t be here.
*
It’s dark in the condo, the sun setting outside the window, no lights turned on as Prapai sits on the couch, the white leather couch he picked out because Sky said it was comfortable but not showy.
He’s not sure how he ended up here except he had nowhere else to go. He can’t go to his parent’s house where his siblings will be, will want his attention, and his dad will waltz in later in the evening and Prapai will be faced with everything all over again. For a while, he’d driven around aimlessly, his father’s words replaying in his head.
He has never been the best businessman, has occasionally shirked his duties for more entertaining things, but that hasn’t meant he’s incapable. And when he finally gets a chance to prove he can do it, he fails.
Somewhere in the condo, his phone vibrates with a phone call. He doesn’t know where it is—had tossed it somewhere in the living room when Namtan called for the third time, after the text from Pakin about next week’s race schedule.
The one thing he’s supposed to be able to do without any help, racing, he can’t even do that right.
Pressing his hand to his face, he sucks in a breath against the weight pressing on his chest. Why did he think he could handle a project like this? Everything he’s ever done has been given to him by someone else—his dad, P’Pakin. He hasn’t earned his place at the company and clearly he’s not going to. He can’t stop his past from creeping up on him and causing problems, and even if he could, he won’t be able to convince his father of that.
What good is he to anyone if he can’t even handle his own problems?
What good is he to Sky?
Dropping his hands, he sighs, heavy, leaning back to stare at the ceiling. Sky deserves someone who hasn’t slept with half the city, someone who he can rely on, someone who can stand on his own two feet. And that’s not him. He’s been propped up his whole life and now it’s falling apart.
There is going to be gossip and rumors even worse than before, and normally, Prapai wouldn’t care. He doesn’t care that people talk about his sexual past, that they think he is or is not good looking. But he does care that they think he only gets things because of who his father is. He can’t even argue, though. Obviously the only reason he’s done anything is because of his circumstances, and now he’s proved it.
He’s proved all those gossipers right about him. He is exactly what they think he is.
Maybe he should quit, he thinks, watching how the city lights fall across the ceiling, dusk turning into darkness as the evening falls. Maybe he should move to an island somewhere and work in a bar, serve tourists drinks and wear sandals all day. There would be no expectations to disappoint there.
Sky would be better off too.
His heart thuds loudly in his chest at the thought, the thought of Sky with someone else. He doesn’t like it, but Sky deserves someone who can handle their own problems and doesn’t need their father swooping in to fix it.
He hears his phone vibrate again, somewhere in the darkness of the condo, but he makes no move to find it. Namtan will reprimand him tomorrow for running out on work, and his dad has said everything Prapai needs to hear.
Closing his eyes, he sinks further into the couch, listening to the beating of his heart, his breathing as he tries to calm the anxiety fluttering in his chest, like butterflies trying to claw their way out.
His eyes fly open at the sound of the front door opening, the beep of a keycard. It can only be one person, and he bites back his grimace as he hears Sky’s soft footfalls on the wood floor.
“P’Pai?” Sky asks, sounding worried as he enters the living room behind him. “P’Pai, you’re here.”
Prapai doesn’t look up, feeling ashamed as Sky rounds the couch, sitting next to him and immediately taking his hand.
“Are you okay? What happened?” Sky asks, inspecting his face as though looking for injuries of some sort. “You didn’t meet me after therapy.”
“Therapy, fuck,” Prapai mutters as he remembers. He’d completely forgotten, too wrapped up in everything. Another thing he’s screwed up, let Sky down.
Sky only frowns at him, as if confused. “I called and you didn’t answer, so I called P’Payu and he didn’t know. Then I asked P’Namtan and she said you just left work this afternoon and never came back.”
Hanging his head, Prapai groans. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t meet you.” He doesn’t even have a worthwhile excuse.
“I don’t care that you didn’t meet me,” Sky says, and Prapai feels a pang in his heart. “I was just worried when you didn’t answer. I thought something terrible might have happened.”
He shakes his head instead, not meeting Sky’s gaze. He doesn’t want to see the disappointment there.
“Everything’s fine,” he says, forcing the words from his mouth.
“No, it’s not,” Sky says slowly, holding onto Prapai’s hand tightly, and Prapai barely notices. He doesn’t deserve Sky’s pity or worry or concern. “P’Pai, what is going on? Why are you sitting here in the dark?” Reaching over, Sky flips on a lamp and Prapai flinches in the flood of light.
“It’s nothing,” he says, trying to draw himself together, to smile at Sky, to assure him that everything is fine. “Just stupid work stuff.”
“What stupid work stuff?” Sky asks, reaching for Prapai’s chin, but Prapai pulls it away with a sigh. “That project you’re working on?”
His heart sinks into his stomach when Sky says it. “It’s not my project anymore,” he says before he can stop himself, knowing Sky won’t understand. Knowing he’ll have more questions, but Prapai doesn’t want to answer them.
“What do you mean?” Sky’s hand falls to his neck since Prapai won’t look at him.
“I mean, I screwed it up,” Prapai says, the words bursting from him as his heart pounds. “I screwed it up and it got taken away.”
“I’m sure you didn’t screw it up,” Sky says, but Prapai shakes his head sharply.
“I did,” he says, huffing out a breath as the feelings well up inside him, guilt and shame and stupidity that he thought he could actually handle this, that he’d never considered his past coming back to haunt him.
Sky frowns, biting his bottom lip, and Prapai wishes he would stop looking. He hates this feeling.
“Well, what happened?” Sky asks, calm, concerned.
“It’s not important,” Prapai says, dismissive, wishing Sky would stop asking. Sky has enough problems without him adding to it.
“Why won’t you tell me?” Sky asks, surprising Prapai with his tone, almost annoyed. “It’s obviously important to you, so why wouldn’t it be important to me?” He pauses, sitting back on the couch. “Do you not think you can trust me?”
“No!” Prapai says quickly. “I mean, yes, I trust you.” He looks at Sky finally, his heart beating rapidly in his chest as he catches sight of Sky’s face, twisted in confusion, hurt, and he sighs. “It’s just my problem, not yours.”
Sky makes a noise, disbelieving, and Prapai wishes they didn’t have to do this. There’s no point. He made a mistake and he fucked up and it’s not worth Sky worrying about it.
“Why don’t you tell me and I’ll decide if it’s my problem,” Sky says after a second, and Prapai shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid.”
“I’ll tell you if I think it’s stupid,” Sky promises, and Prapai should smile at that, but he can’t.
Instead, he lets out a breath and sits back. He doesn’t even really know where to start. It’s going to sound ridiculous if he puts it into words, but he has to try as Sky sits there watching him, holding onto his hand as if he’s not going to let Prapai go without telling him.
“That project I was working on,” he says, huffing out a breath as his heart beats faster. “It turns out I slept with one of the women from the company. It was last year sometime—I barely remember it. Some work party and I had too much to drink and I don’t even remember her face. But she remembered me.” He sighs, careful not to look at Sky. He knows what’s going through his head—that Prapai sleeping around and it coming back to bite him is pure karma. “And I guess she had to leave the company because of what happened, so when she found out I was running the project, she made it her mission to ruin it. She changed deadlines and rejected everything I sent her, and then today, she went to my dad and threatened to pull the project altogether if I wasn’t taken off it. So he did.”
It does sound stupid now that he says it out loud, especially compared to the things he knows Sky has been through. He doesn’t have any right to feel like this. Doesn’t have any right to the way his stomach curls in on itself
Shaking his head, he pulls his hand from Sky’s. “I tried for so long to get him to give me this account and because I slept with someone a year ago, someone I don’t even remember, I lost it. I only get chances because of my dad in the first place—I only have this job because of him. I only got the project because of him and I couldn’t handle it.” He stops, biting back the lump swelling in his throat. “How am I supposed to take over the company some day? How am I supposed to get any business deals done when I’ve slept with half of my peers? My father thinks that I can’t be trusted to work on projects, that my past is too much of a risk for business.”
He takes a breath as he stares out the window at the city lights. He doesn’t want to look at Sky, to see his face, his unsurprised expression. Sky has probably always expected this, that Prapai’s sleeping around would catch up with him, that who he was before he met Sky is who he will always be.
“And on top of everything, after I lost that race, P’Pakin made it very clear that I shouldn’t lose again.” He glances at Sky, just long enough to confirm that he’s still there, that he’s still listening. “See? It’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid,” Sky says, too quickly, and Prapai can only shake his head.
“Yes, it is. Compared to what you’ve been through? I shouldn’t even be complaining.”
For a minute, Sky doesn’t say anything, but he reaches for Prapai’s arm, smoothing his fingers over his bicep as he scoots closer.
“Is that why didn’t you tell me?” Sky asks finally, quiet, and Prapai sighs.
“You have other things you’re dealing with and you don’t need to deal with my problems too. Not when they’re so insignificant.” He presses his hands together. Even if it feels like everything is falling apart, other people have it worse. Sky has it worse. “I slept around and now it’s coming back to bite me. It’s just the consequences of my own actions.”
He can’t help the way tears well in his eyes, nose prickling, at something so stupid, and he keeps his gaze on the window as he breathes, willing the feelings away. He made his own bed—he knew that when he was sleeping with so many people before, had not cared about what could happen in the future, so focused on his own pleasure and not bothering to think of the consequences.
“So you thought you’d just suffer alone?” Sky says. “You thought I wouldn’t want to know?”
“I don’t want you to worry,” Prapai says, brushing away the wetness on his cheek. “I don’t want to be stress for you.”
“You’re not,” Sky says, sliding his hand into Prapai’s again, squeezing his fingers, but Prapai swallows the lump in his throat. Sky’s just saying that. He knows the things he did before they were together, when he was trying to get Sky to go out with him. He hasn’t been perfect.
“You deserve someone you don’t have to worry about, you know?” he says, too afraid to look at Sky, seeing him scoot closer out of the corner of his eye. “Someone who knows what they’re doing. Someone who’ll be there for you. I can’t even stop one person from ruining everything.”
He feels Sky’s hand on his cheek, turning his face before he can stop him, and his heart breaks a little as he catches sight of Sky’s face, the furrow in his brow, the worry in his eyes.
“Are you kidding me?” Sky says, shaking his head. “You’re always there for me.” He wipes a stray tear from Prapai’s cheek, and Prapai can’t help wanting to believe it. “When I have a nightmare in the middle of the night, when you bring me dinner every day, when you pick me up after therapy and never ask any questions even though I know you’re dying to know if we talk about you.” Sky smiles slightly, tilting his head to the side. “Just because I’ve had some fucked up things happen, that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what’s going on with you.”
“But it’s not the same,” Prapai protests, tries to pull away, but Sky doesn’t let him.
“So?” he says. “It’s not a competition. You’re allowed to feel bad about things, about losing this project. I know how hard you were working on it. I know you want your dad to have faith in you.”
Prapai blinks away the tears at Sky’s words, the pressure squeezing his chest as he sits there. Sky smiles, gentle, at him.
“There is no comparison. Your feelings matter just as much as anyone’s, whether it’s about work or your dad or the races. I want you to tell me about those things. I want to know about your problems, stupid or not.”
Prapai only feels drained as Sky gathers him in his arms, a gentle kiss pressed to his forehead as he closes his eyes and tries to believe him. He just tries to breath, sinking into the soft comfort of Sky’s body, trying not to let it overwhelm him as his lip shakes and the breath he takes is ragged.
“I want to be strong for you,” he manages to mumble into Sky’s shoulder, and Sky’s arms tighten, a gentle squeeze that he needs, something reassuring as Sky’s stroke his hair. Breathing in deeply, he can smell the soft scent of Sky’s laundry soap, something else that is uniquely Sky, and he feels his heart calming finally.
“You are,” Sky assures him, pulling away just far enough to press his forehead to Prapai’s. “You have to let me be too.”
Tears spill over at Sky’s words, hot and fast, and his chest throbs. Twining his arms around Sky’s waist, he holds on tightly, doesn’t ever want to let go. He’s been holding it in for so long, he didn’t even realize how much of a relief it would be to just let go.
“Just because some old hookup holds a grudge, that doesn’t mean you can’t be successful,” Sky says after a minute, wiping the tears off his cheek. “Your dad is going to figure it out, and even if he never sees you as anything other than a kid, you know you can do it and one stupid ex isn’t going to change that.”
“I guess,” he says, although he doesn’t quite believe it, even when Sky reaches for his face, fingers sliding gently down his cheeks to his jaw and he leans in to kiss him, slow, careful.
“My therapist always says that my past doesn’t define me,” Sky says, smiling slightly when Prapai meets his gaze. “It applies to you too.”
Taking a deep breath, Prapai nods. He feels marginally better as Sky tilts his head to the side, squishes his cheeks, but he’s still embarrassed. Embarrassed for scaring Sky, for making a bigger deal than it is.
“You’re more than just your job,” Sky says, eyes big and serious, and it makes Prapai’s heart ache. “You’re more than winning races. You’re more than somebody you slept with a year ago. You don’t have to hide when you’re having a hard time ‘cause I want to know.”
Prapai kisses him again, harder, wanting that connection as Sky kisses him back, needing that reassurance. It feels silly that he cares so much about what his dad thinks, what everyone thinks, when all that matters is what Sky thinks. But he does care, and it hurts that his dad doesn’t think he can do it, thinks he’s still a playboy ruining the company reputation.
“I like worrying about you,” Sky says when they part, and Prapai leans his forehead against his, closing his eyes, letting the words wash over him. “I can’t get rid of you and you can’t get rid of me.”
Prapai feels the relief washing over him, the weight coming off his chest as he takes a breath. Burying his face in Sky’s shoulder, he pulls him close, focuses on the steady beating of his heart against his. He should have told Sky right away about Sarai and work, should have known that Sky is strong enough to handle it. He’s strong enough to handle everything else he’s been through.
That’s what Prapai thinks as he presses a kiss to Sky’s shoulder and hears him laugh. They’re both strong enough for each other, in different ways.
“Better?” Sky asks, smoothing down Prapai’s hair, letting Prapai burrow into him.
Breathing in deeply, Prapai nods into his shoulder, tightening his grip as though Sky’s going to move any second, but he doesn’t. Sky’s not going anywhere, and Prapai knows it. He likes that he knows it, isn’t sure why there was ever any doubt in his mind.
“I love you,” he murmurs instead of answering Sky, feels Sky’s fingers tighten in the back of his shirt, reassuring.
“I love you too,” Sky says, the words sinking into him like a warm blanket that falls over everything, calm and warm and comforting.
And later, when he presses Sky to the mattress, watching the soft pleasure on Sky’s face, their bodies connecting, and Sky’s arms twine around him, he knows he wouldn’t want it to be anyone else he tells his problems to.
*
For the first time in a long time, Prapai is nervous as he gazes out at the crowd, but he’s glad when he spots Sky coming towards him, his face lighting up as he meets Prapai’s eyes.
“My lucky Sky,” he says, grabbing Sky’s hand and pulling him the last few steps to the tent where Payu has all the bikes parked.
“I told you I’d be here,” Sky says, as though Prapai might have doubted. He slides his hands down Prapai’s leather racing jacket and smiles. “You all ready?”
Taking a breath, Prapai nods. He can’t say he’s a hundred percent confident in his ability to win, but he feels better knowing Sky is there with him.
“Just remember, last time doesn’t mean anything,” Sky says, serious, eyes wide as though compelling Prapai to believe him.
He nods again, although the fluttering insects are gathering in his stomach once more. He glances at Sky, though, tearing his eyes away from where the bikes are being rolled to the start.
“What if I lose?” he says. Pakin is not one to change his mind, even if Prapai is his favorite racer. He still lost him a lot of money last time.
Sky places his hands on Prapai’s cheeks, squishing gently. “You are the best racer here, and you did that all on your own. I wouldn’t be with you if you weren’t.”
Laughing, Prapai shoves his hands away, but he does feel better, knowing that Sky can joke at a time like this.
“Seriously,” he says, and Sky pauses.
“If you lose, Rain and I will smuggle you out of the country,” he says finally, and Prapai grimaces.
“That’s reassuring.”
Sky nods. “Just remember, your fate is in Rain’s hands.”
“Then I better win,” Prapai says, and Sky smiles, leaning in to him.
“I don’t mind either way,” he says, accepting the kiss Prapai gives him, pulling Prapai back before he can move too far, in for another kiss that makes Prapai’s heart thud, even after all these months.
Reluctant, Prapai pulls back, seeing the pit girl heading towards the bikes to start the race. “I have to go.”
“Good luck,” Sky tells him, keeping ahold of his hand until Prapai has to let it go as he steps away.
Reaching the bike, he pulls on his helmet and glances over to find Sky in the crowd. Calm washes over him as he swings his leg over and sits down. He doesn’t need luck. He has Sky.
*
FIN.