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Kim had always thought that there were many advantages to being a bit of a night owl. For one thing, inspiration always seemed to flow more freely, with each new chord that might deign to drift through his mind resounding more clearly in the still and quiet; for another, it had always proven the best time to slip around the family compound unseen and unmolested, since all the most interfering busybodies had already whisked themselves off to bed; and, of most immediate concern, there was no one around to see him abandoning his dignity and rummaging haphazardly through the kitchen cupboards at this ungodly hour.
It wasn’t that Kim forgot to eat sometimes, per se - he just occasionally deferred the task, letting it slip a few notches further down his to-do list, if he was immersed in something far more interesting. Like, for example, this evening’s unsuccessful attempt to access the compound’s secure computer files.
Meaning that it was now 3am, and he hadn’t eaten anything since the early afternoon, and his frustration over his unsuccessful hacking attempt was being very thoroughly compounded by the increasingly insistent gurgles coming from his stomach. Having burned through all his reserves of patience for that day - and probably for the entire week, for that matter - he had made a beeline straight for the kitchens, hoping to find a quick snack to solve at least one of his problems.
He had just unwrapped a packet of pastries and made the possibly inadvisable decision to shove one of them into his mouth whole, to tide him over while he looked for something more substantial, when the gentle padding of footsteps in the hall had him freezing in place, cheeks bulging and fingers still sticky with crumbs, flooded with horror at the thought of being caught now.
Fortunately, the paralysis only lasted for a second. There was nothing to be done about the incriminating pile of treats that he’d left strewn across the counter, but he had just enough time to spin on his heel and dash into the tiny alcove beside the largest fridge - one of his favourite hiding places in the compound since he’d been old enough to toddle. That, at least, had never changed.
The sensible thing to do now was to remain perfectly still, quieten his breathing, and hope that the hastily swallowed pastry would be enough to silence the furious grumblings of his stomach.
But Kim’s curiosity got the better of him, as it had always been wont to do, and he peeked around the corner - only to be met with the sight of a shuffling, pyjama-clad Porchay Kittisawasd, stifling a yawn with one hand and ruffling his sleep-tousled hair with the other.
Kim refused to acknowledge the aching burst of affection that flared through his chest at the sight.
Chay wandered over to the counter where Kim had just been standing, and began picking through the assorted snacks that Kim had discarded.
There was a faint sound, barely audible beneath the rustling of the wrappers. Was Chay humming? What was the song? No matter how hard Kim strained his ears, he couldn’t quite make it out.
After a moment’s consideration, Chay carefully plucked a pastry out of the very same packet that Kim had just opened, and took a bite.
Kim made a mental note to buy more of that particular brand the next time he ordered his own groceries. It really had been quite a tasty little snack, now that he thought about it.
However, the next moment, his musings were interrupted by the sound of more footsteps echoing down the hallway. Kim bit back a curse - of all the times for half the compound to decide they were in the mood for a midnight snack, why did it have to be tonight?
Chay had clearly heard the footsteps as well. He let out a dismayed squeak, shoved the other half of his pastry in his mouth, spun on his heel - and dashed into the same alcove that Kim was currently lurking in.
Suddenly face to face with the boy he’d lost before he’d even realised he loved him, Kim found himself lost for words, too. What was there to say, after all, to someone you’d deliberately made an enemy of, and utterly failed to reconcile with, when you found yourself forced into an unexpected stealth operation with them by the whims of fate and chance?
Fortunately, the clatter of footsteps into the kitchen, accompanied by a burst of unreasonably raucous laughter, absolved him of the obligation to say anything at all. Bringing a finger urgently to his lips, Kim let himself seek refuge in the familiar, claustrophobic sanctuary of silence.
Chay’s eyes flashed indignantly, and for a moment Kim thought he was going to argue - but fortunately, Chay didn’t seem any keener than him to alert anyone else to their presence in the alcove, and he subsided with an irritated huff, features settling into a frown. Or at least, Kim thought it was probably a frown. It wasn’t an expression he’d often seen Chay make, but that particular crinkle of his brow probably wasn’t a happy one.
Kim let his eyes slide away, and focused his attention on the conversation the two bodyguards who’d just entered the kitchen were engaged in.
“-sure I’m not the only one it’s happened to,” one of them was saying. “I’d put money on it, honestly.”
“Yeah man, I’m not doubting you,” the other agreed emphatically. “Did I tell you about the time last week when I had to cover for their usual driver and chauffeur them to that meeting with the Germans?”
Kim was focusing more intently, now - bodyguard gossip was often a wealth of unexpected clues and insight.
“Do I want to know?” laughed the first bodyguard.
“Probably not,” his friend replied. “So, I had Khun Kinn and Khun Porsche in my backseat, both of them - oh, do I even need to say more? You know where this story’s going.”
“Do I?” the other asked, in tones of exaggerated innocence. “No, I think you better spell it out for me.”
Kim was rapidly becoming very, very certain that he did not want this guy to spell anything whatsoever out for him, thank you very much.
Unfortunately, luck was decidedly not on his side that evening.
“Well, I had the partition up and the soundproofing turned on, obviously, so I can’t say for sure.” The bodyguard paused for dramatic effect, then continued, “But I could still hear them, in spite of all that, and if Khun Kinn wasn’t getting his dick sucked back there-”
Having thoroughly revised his opinion of the value of bodyguard gossip, Kim decided that he was going to voluntarily go deaf now, actually. Shifting his attention firmly away from this terrible, awful, no-good conversation, his gaze fell back on Chay - whose head was now buried in his hands.
For a few seconds, Kim furiously debated with himself whether he ought to risk checking if Chay was alright. Then, in the first stroke of good luck he’d had that entire night, the bodyguards’ footsteps began to trudge back down the hallway, their voices fading into the night and taking the remnants of their horrible conversation with them.
Chay lowered his hands and looked back up at Kim, eyes wide and definitely no longer clouded with the dregs of sleep.
For a moment, Chay just stared at Kim, unblinking. Then, the faintest edge of hysteria lacing his voice, he mumbled, “That was the worst thing that’s ever happened.”
Kim had imagined this moment so many times, in so many ways, that he couldn’t have kept track of them all if he’d tried. He was pretty sure that he had, in fact, imagined the first words Chay would say to him the next time they spoke being along those lines on more than one occasion.
It still stung.
He swallowed, dropping his gaze to the floor, and shrank back a little. There was only so far he could go - it was a tiny alcove, and Chay was blocking the way out - but he could put a little bit more space between them, if it would lessen Chay’s discomfort.
He was jolted out of his self-pitying reverie by a gentle slap to his chest.
“Not - I didn’t mean you, P’Kim!” Chay protested. Kim’s head snapped up - impossibly, Chay was half-smiling at him, flapping one hand in the space between them. “I just meant - wow, that was too much information, you know? God, I did not need to know that.” Chay gave an over-exaggerated shudder, and Kim couldn’t help nodding in agreement - he, too, did not need to know that.
“Anyway, uh…” Chay had barely begun to speak before he was interrupted by a jaw-splitting yawn.
Kim felt the corner of his lips quirk up involuntarily. “Time for bed?” he murmured, even though the last thing he wanted was for Chay to slip away and through his fingers yet again. But, then again, it was inevitable. Maybe there was no sense in delaying it. After all, he’d always been good at denying himself the things he wasn’t meant to have, to lessen the sting when they drifted completely out of reach.
But then Chay giggled, raising an eyebrow, and suddenly he didn’t look tired at all. “Was that an innuendo, P’Kim?”
Kim’s mind came to a screeching halt, panic racing through him. “No, I didn’t - I know you don’t - Chay, I didn’t mean-” he stuttered, then gave up and covered his face with a groan.
Chay laughed again. Kim had never appreciated just how sweet that sound was, before.
Then, another pair of hands were gently prising his own from his face, and Chay was meeting his gaze with an unexpectedly serious expression.
At some point, he’d grown taller than Kim. He hadn’t realised that until now.
“You know I don’t what, P’Kim?” Chay asked, gentle but insistent.
Kim swallowed. “You don’t - I know you’re still angry with me.”
Chay hummed, scrunching his nose contemplatively. “And how do you know that, exactly?”
Kim felt the ground shifting beneath his feet. Words deserted him completely; he was powerless to do anything but blink back at Chay.
Chay took pity on him, and broke the silence again. “Maybe I’m still a little angry, phi. But mostly, I’m tired of being angry. And I think… I think I miss having you around.”
Kim took in a shaky breath. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or the lack of food, or simply the muted glow from the fluorescent lights, barely illuminating their little hidden corner, but the entire conversation had taken on an air of unreality.
Or maybe it was simply because it felt too much like everything he’d barely let himself yearn for, made reality.
I’ve missed you too, he wanted to say.
Or perhaps that wasn’t enough. All I see now, no matter where I look, is the absence of you. That was closer to the truth of it.
But Kim had never been good with words. Not the sincere kind, not when the truth was at stake. Not when it mattered.
But Chay deserved an answer of some kind. Nothing he could dredge up would be adequate, but he had to try.
“I’ve missed you too,” Kim whispered.
The ripple of shock through his veins, in the aftermath of those words passing his lips, was a slow, sluggish thing. Even as the words echoed in his ears, he couldn’t quite believe he’d said them - the exact words he’d wanted to force out. It might have been a miracle.
And yet, it had been easy. Simple.
And Chay’s answering smile was brilliant. Dazzling.
At least, until it was interrupted by another enormous yawn.
The ensuing silence only lasted for a moment before both of them burst into helpless snorts of laughter, Chay pitching forward to bury his head in Kim’s shoulder.
“Maybe you were right, P’Kim,” came Chay’s muffled voice a second later, “it really might be time for bed.” He drew back to meet Kim’s eyes again, then continued, “But tomorrow… well, if we both miss each other, maybe we should do something to fix that. Would that - does that sound good to you?”
Kim could only nod helplessly, the force of his longing having stolen his words away completely. Chay beamed back at him. “Good.”
And then, a contemplative look passed over Chay’s features, a gleam appearing in his eyes.
Kim instinctively knew what he was about to do, and made no move to resist.
Chay’s lips met his; just the faintest brush of pressure. Kim’s eyes fluttered closed, and Chay pressed blessedly closer, a beacon of warmth against him.
The kiss couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds before Chay broke away, taking a piece of Kim’s heart with him.
That was more than fine by Kim. He hadn’t realised he still had anything left of his heart to give; whatever remained, he would happily offer up to Chay on a platter.
Chay let out another nervous giggle, seemingly overcome by a sudden bout of shyness. “Ah, well - goodnight then, P’Kim! I’ll see you - or, mm, we can talk tomorrow?” And before Kim even had the chance to reply, he’d turned and darted out of the alcove.
Kim leaned back against the wall, letting himself melt into the stone. He couldn’t quite feel any of his limbs; he couldn’t quite bring himself to care.
He’d always known this was the best hiding spot in the house.