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Kim supposes that it first starts when he and Chay finally figure things out and get back together, all cards left face up on the table.
It’s a slow process and a long road that stares them down, but it starts with the fact that Chay has gotten very bold and confident in the time they spent apart - he was bold and confident even before, but there’s something new and different in the way he carries himself across a room, the way he stares Kim down even more unwaveringly than before, the way he speaks and voices out his feelings and opinions.
Kim misses the easily flustered Chay from before, but he finds he might like this version of Chay a little more. He still gets flustered sometimes, still blushes, but he’s more open and louder than before; he isn’t afraid to tease Kim until it’s Kim that has flushed cheeks and has to avert his gaze, and he isn't afraid to openly flirt.
Kim has always felt like he needs to be in control of everything that goes on, and needs to be one step ahead of everyone else. He’s never liked feeling like he’s surrounded or trapped, he’s never liked to feel like he’s the one pinned down. No, he’s the one who keeps people pinned in place. Allowing someone to get you down on the ground is a huge sign of weakness, and weakness is not allowed - not in his world, not in his family.
But Chay’s gaze keeps him feeling like he’s pinned to the spot he’s stood on, and he finds he doesn’t mind it as much as he should.
Chay isn’t the same shy boy from before; he asks for the things he wants and he takes them without an ounce of shame. He initiates their first kiss and he pulls Kim into his chest with steady hands, fingers only slightly trembling against Kim’s hip bones.
Kim is used to kissing people first because kissing is intimate and he needs to be in control of it, needs to set the pace for it and tilt the head of the person he’s kissing the way that he wants. It’s the way it should be , he tells himself.
So, imagine his own surprise when he allows Chay to kiss him first - allows Chay to pull him into his chest and control the pace, allows Chay to tilt his head a little to the left so their noses don’t knock together, and allows Chay to guide him back until he’s cornered against the wall of his living room.
The most shocking part of it all is that he finds that he really, really likes it this way. He’s dazed and breathless by the time that Chay pulls away - words are stuck in his throat, scraping against the walls, and he’s only left staring up at Chay with eyes blown wide open. Chay holds his jaw pinched between his thumb and index finger, and he uses this exact hold to tip Kim’s head down. The velvety press of his lips against the skin stretching across Kim’s forehead leaves him reeling, something achingly similar to butterflies somersaulting in the pit of his stomach, and he stutters a gasp.
“Is this okay?” Chay asks, and Kim bites his own tongue. He doesn’t want to admit that he likes it, so he keeps the words pinched between his teeth. “P’Kim?” Chay’s voice holds an edge of nerves, and Kim feels like a dick for not being able to properly express himself, so he just nods.
The hold on his jaw relaxes, and oh. Kim hadn't realized that Chay had tightened his hold unconsciously, seemingly in a way to keep both of them tethered firmly to the ground below.
“Are you…are you sure?” Chay whispers, and they’re so close, Kim can feel Chay’s breath brushing against his skin when he speaks. Kim just nods again, not trusting his own voice. God, would it be so fucking embarrassing if he spoke and his voice cracked on the words.
Chay strokes his fingers over Kim’s sharp jaw, touch almost unbearably gentle, and Kim blinks fast; something warm unfurls in his chest and stretches its wispy soft tendrils all over his body, swimming through his veins and filling his lungs with liquid sunshine. Chay leans in and kisses his nose, then his cheek, the corner of his mouth and his jaw, then trails his lips back against his forehead.
“I like you a lot, P’Kim,” he whispers, soft and sweet and earnest, and Kim feels like he’s made of cotton candy, sugar slowly disintegrating and pooling in a little puddle on the pavement.
“You too,” he mumbles, fingers shaking, and when did they start shaking? When did they curl into Chay’s shirt and when did they start clutching the fabric so desperately? “Like you a lot too.”
Chay presses in, close and warm. Kim feels…small. Pushed into the wall with Chay looming over him - Chay, who is about three inches taller than him, but feels like a giant right now - he feels tiny and surrounded and he should absolutely despise it. He doesn’t. His legs are like jelly and his head is a little dizzy. Chay is so warm and smells like cinnamon, and Kim wants to be devoured like prey, which should sound off alarm bells in his head already. Should make him push Chay away and run as fast as possible, because he’s Kimhan Theerapanyakul and he is not supposed - not allowed - to feel this way, to want things like this.
He’s stuck against this wall and he can’t force his arms or his legs to move and the most alarming thing of all is that he doesn’t want to, and for once he allows himself to listen to the voice in his head that’s quiet and soft, telling him that it’s okay.
An arm comes around his waist, steady and gentle. Kim tenses.
“I’m very happy with you, Phi.” Chay mumbles against the side of his neck, breath tickling his skin. “Very, very happy.”
Kim’s body goes pliant without his own permission, and he sinks into Chay’s embrace, shivering when Chay trails kisses behind his ear. His chest aches with tender happiness, flowers sprouting in his stomach and champagne fizzing in his veins.
He’ll think about the implications of these strange sensations later, right now he just lets himself enjoy it.
(So, yeah. Kim supposes that this is where it first starts.)
— — —
It continues on like this. With the coming weeks, Kim feels like he’s blooming.
Since their first kiss, which ended with the two of them cuddling while standing up pressed against the wall, Chay has become even bolder and Kim has found himself turning more docile.
He tries not to let it show how much he enjoys when Chay corners him into walls and doors, when Chay kisses him breathless - each time his mouth getting hungrier and his kisses getting deeper - and when Chay pulls him into his chest and wraps his arms around him in a way that makes Kim feel like he’s trying to lock Kim in and never let him go. Realistically, Kim knows he could break that hold easily - Chay might be taller than him now, but Kim is way stronger and way more skilled.
He finds that the idea of breaking free doesn’t even come across his mind once.
The kisses and the cuddles are not the only thing that’s new. Chay has started openly complimenting him, calling him beautiful and pretty, and has started calling him baby.
The first time he does it, Kim feels like lightning has struck him, setting every single nerve in his body on flames. His eyes almost bulge out of his head and his throat runs dry as he looks over to where Chay is sitting, with Kim’s feet in his lap and his hands carefully kneading over his ankle bone; the pads of his thumbs draw little circles and shapes into his sensitive skin, and he looks very unbothered. They’re watching a documentary that Kim hasn’t been focused on for a long time now, choosing to instead stare at Chay’s side profile and admire him, eyes catching on the last remnants of dark blue hair dye clinging to the tips of Chay’s hair.
“Wh…what?’ Kim stutters out, his voice going a bit higher up in pitch at the end. Chay looks at him with a raised brow, as if to ask what? in turn, and the corner of his lips twitches. Like he’s holding back a smile.
“I said pass me the remote, baby. Please.”
Kim’s mind feels like it’s a pair of eggs that just got scrambled. He doesn’t register his muscles loosening and he doesn’t realize he’s moving to grab the remote, but the next thing he knows, the remote is in his hand and he’s bending at the waist to pass it to Chay.
The younger boy grins, grabbing the remote from him. Kim sits back, leaning his back against the armrest of the sofa, and Chay…well. Chay does something that further knocks Kim’s brain into overdrive and shuts down all the systems responsible for controlling his muscles and his facial expressions and his damn heartbeat too.
Chay lifts one of Kim’s legs and tilts his chin down to press a kiss against Kim’s ankle bone. His lips linger on Kim’s skin - a warm and gentle pressure that dries Kim’s throat out like a desert.
“Thanks, baby.” Chay mutters the words against Kim’s skin, disturbing the sparse little hairs on his leg, and presses another kiss for good measure. Then he puts Kim’s foot back down and turns his attention to the TV like nothing even happened in the first place, and Kim’s left scrambling to pick up the pieces of his brain that are fried and shattered on the ground now.
“You…” Chay turns to him, eyes patient and imploring, and Kim doesn’t know what words are anymore. “Nothing.” He mumbles, looking down at the hands in his lap. Chay’s hold on his ankle tightens, not painfully so.
“Is that okay?” His voice is gentle, edging on a tone that implies he already knows that it’s okay, but he just wants to hear Kim confirm it. Kim nods. “Words would be a bit better, baby.”
Unfair. Very much unfair and messed up , Kim thinks.
“Ye - yes.”
Chay’s smile is beautiful, warm and brilliant. “Good, baby. Thank you for using your words.”
Fuck, is all that Kim’s brain comes up with in regards to that.
— — —
Kim continues blooming like a flower and spreading his wings like a baby bird learning how to fly. Weeks bleed into months, and neither of them really address this new, gradual development in their relationship.
Kim supposes it doesn’t matter enough to discuss - all he knows is he feels something he hasn’t felt in…well, maybe forever.
Loved. He feels loved with every compliment that Chay gives him. He feels loved with every kiss and every hug, every caress across his skin and every gentle tug on the strands of his dark hair when he’s got his head in Chay’s lap.
He feels loved with every whispered baby against the shell of his ear and every smile that Chay directs towards him. Chay is the sun, and Kim is the sunflower blooming underneath his touch, his lips, his gaze and his voice. Chay is gentle and sweet, patient and careful with him in a way no one else has ever been. He pushes at the right moments and backs down when he sees that the love he’s giving might be a bit too much at the moment. Slowly though, with every day, Kim feels less and less overwhelmed with the amount of love Chay shows him, and so their relationship progresses.
It’s not until Kim finds himself in his enormous marble bathtub, with candles and bubbles surrounding him and Chay’s hands massaging shampoo into his scalp, that Chay lets the words float out into the air and into existence. Kim is relaxing in the bubble bath that he drew for him after a long and hard day; Chay is fully dressed, the sleeves of his flannel shirt rolled up over his arms, and he’s tucked down on his knees by the sunken bath, eyes soft.
“I love you, Kim.”
Kim freezes. He doesn’t say anything as he stares straight ahead. His fingers shake underneath the water and he sinks his hands down further, hiding them fully beneath the excess of white bubbles. Chay’s said it already once before - back in his old house, on that pull out sofa, with his head on Kim’s chest and Kim’s arm around his shoulders, fingers drawing shapes into his scalp and gently tugging on the strands of his hair.
Back then, Kim froze just like this and then said the stupidest thing he ever could have in response. This time, he finds he can’t say anything at all, no matter how fast his heart pounds. Chay shifts behind him, and for a moment, Kim is scared he’ll get up and leave. Sick and tired of Kim’s shit for the last time.
Instead of that, he feels Chay lean in closer, and then there’s the pressure of lips against his shoulder blade. “It’s okay if you’re not ready to say it back yet. Just wanted to let you know. I love you so much, baby.”
Kim’s eyes feel suspiciously hot.
“I - no.”
Chay’s hands are gentle against his back. “No, what?”
Kim swallows. Now, or never. He’s tired of running.
“Not not ready.” He mumbles, feeling a bit like a kid trying to express himself. Maybe he is one. He feels like his inner child might be slowly healing too, after all. “Love you too.” His words come out shakier than he would like them to, but it’s progress.
God damn it, it’s really more than just progress. This is fucking huge for him and he’s done pretending like it isn’t. Tears splash down his cheeks and he twists his neck, looking up at Chay who blinks down at him, expression turning softer than Kim has ever seen it before.
“Love you too,” he stutters again, blinking back the tears clinging to his waterline. Chay swoops down to kiss him, cupping his face with wet and soapy hands but Kim doesn’t give a single shit. Chay holds him like he’s something fragile and precious, made of glass and diamonds and gold.
“Baby,” Chay mumbles into his mouth, pressing kiss after kiss to his lips and feeding the words right behind Kim’s teeth. “My baby. I love you. You’re so precious and so beautiful and so sweet. I love you. My baby.”
He kisses Kim until their chests sting, demanding air, and Kim’s body is flushed with the warmth he feels.
Yeah. Kim is his baby and he doesn’t mind it. He doesn’t mind it at all. He's blooming - slowly, but he is blooming.
(He can still kill several men with his bare hands and shoot his opponent down with his eyes closed, though. Don’t ever doubt that.)