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Chay has always been forgiving in nature. His rocky life with Porsche as his guardian has made him so. And he hates himself for it right now.
It started out with a bouquet of a dozen sunflowers being sent to his room with a note that read: From Kim , and nothing else. He threw them away. Then the next day a fresh arrangement of sunflowers, delphinium, bupleurum and solidago sat on his desk; already trimmed and in a clear vase with water. A note lay next to the flowers, causing Chay to choke on a breath.
From Kim. I’m sorry.
That I’m sorry could be for a hundred things and of course Kim ‘ I’m mysterious and emotionally unavailable ’ Theerapanyakun, didn’t elaborate.
I’m sorry being a liar? For breaking my heart? For using me? Chay types in a fit of rage and sends it. The reply comes through the form of an unknown number hours later. Chay still has him blocked.
All the above.
He doesn’t reply. Chay keeps the flowers, only because they are pretty and look expensive.
A similar arrangement awaits him exactly a week later, then again the week after that and so on, for sometime.
Chay knows that Kim knows, he has been keeping the bouquet of flowers until he gets a new one.
Each letter along with the flowers contains little notes– song lyrics he knows Kim wrote himself. Each line is beautifully thought out. Even one that only read: I miss you.
Kim Kimhan is not a man that expresses his emotions well or at all, really one could say he is emotionally constipated. So this gives Chay a beacon of hope.
Until just this past week that is. Chay walks into his room and the flowers from last time still sit on his desk again, already wilted.
It’s a quarter past midnight and Chay should be sleeping but he’s not. Wrapped in a cocoon of blankets, he’s wide awake, the phone in his hand almost cracks under the immense pressure he has it in.
12 hours ago. The date under Wik’s most recent instagram post reads.
“So he’s not dead or missing. Classic Kim,” Chay says to no one, throwing his phone across the room. If his phone wasn’t damaged from the vice grip he had it in before, it is now. And it’s all Kims fault. When he gets a hold of him (and kills him himself) he’ll have to buy Chay a new one.
There has been radio silence from Kim for days but Wik has been posting almost daily on social media. No new flowers have been sent to him, not even one missed call from the different unknown numbers Kim uses. It’s not like we’ve made up, don’t expect anything, Chay tells himself like a mantra.
He wants to push his feelings to the back of his mind, but he can’t. He could lie to himself and say he’s over Kim, but he’s not. Chay had truly started to believe that maybe, just maybe they could move past this. But Kim has gone ghost on him all of the sudden and he can only assume none of it was real, again.
Chay wonders what it is about him and that makes people want to deceive him. Is he really that pathetic, that Kim just knew he could dangle hope in front of him again only to pull it away like a rug underneath his feet?
Chay is not the same kid Kim met last year, he’s been forced to grow up— a lot, mentally and physically. He is going to show Kim that he can not be messed with. That he is not a toy for his disposal just because he’s bored.
“I know you have been the one putting the flowers in my room and letting him know whether I kept them or not, so tell me where he is!” Chay walks into Kinn’s conference room, head held high.
Kinn cocks an eyebrow at the exasperated bodyguard that failed to do his job and keep an overgrown baby out.
“Chay, you know it’s dangerous to barge in here like that. You don’t know who I could have had in here.” Kinn stands up from his seat putting away visible documents he knows Chay has no business looking at.
“I asked first. He said you were alone.” Chay points to the guilty bodyguard and Kinn huffs a sigh.
“Chay, why don’t you just call him?”
“No. I’m going to give him a piece of my mind! I just need to make sure he’s home.”
“He’s home.”
“Oh. Well then by chance do you know why…”
“Talk to him. I’ll call his guards and let them know you’re coming so you don’t get yourself killed or worse put in jail and have Porsche kill us both.” Kinn jokingly says, patting the top of Chay’s head.
Chay stands outside Kim’s complex. It feels familiar to the scene from last year: The watchful eyes of the guards at the door, the confusion in his heart and mind, his heart on his sleeve and not knowing where he stands in Kim’s life. He loses his confidence and almost turns around.
“K’Porchay. K’Kim can not come down. I will lead you up.” A guard says.
The door to Kim’s unit opens the second he stands in front of it. Chay puffs out his chest, ready to lay out all of his pent-up anger onto him. He falters immediately. Kim looks a mess. Chay has never seen him look unkempt. So human.
“Chay, why-”
Kim’s hair is greasy, he looks tired and he’s shirtless, due to the panic that hits him, Chay ignores that detail because Kim is hurt and no one told him. “P’Kim? What happened, are you okay? Why are you bandaged on your side? Did something happen? Have you been shot?”
“Chay, I’m okay.” Kim dismisses the bodyguard awkwardly standing at the door and leads Chay inside, pain imminent on his face as he walks.
“Then why are you hurt? I don’t know why you’re like this! Say what you mean! If you are hurt, then say you are hurt! Who shot you? Did you go to the hospital?”
Chay’s hand hovers over the bandaged wound but doesn’t touch. All the feelings, all the emotions running through him make his head hurt. Chay’s anger changes trajectory. He wants to make whoever did this suffer, forget that he is a 19 year old with no real mafia training, aside from the sparring matches he has with his brother. The idea of almost losing Kim, no matter what the status of their relationship is, makes him nauseous. It’s unfathomable.
After a moment of silence Kim finally speaks, hesitantly. “I wasn’t shot. It’s…”
“What?”
“Appendicitis.”
“What! That's worse!”
“Worse than being shot?” Kim laughs.
“It’s up there. Still deadly.” Chay says calming down, realizing how dumb that must have sounded. “Is this why...” Chay starts, voice low.
“Hmm?”
“Is this why you haven’t been sending me flowers?”
“Yeah. I like to pick them out myself and as you can see I can’t really do much right now. I didn’t think you would be upset about it.” Kim’s voice and eyes are soft.
“Of course I was! I thought you were just messing with me again.”
“I wasn’t. I wouldn’t. I learned my lesson.” Kim brings a hand up to Chay's shoulder but decides against touching him and brings it back down to his side.
“I came here to beat you up,” Chay says and Kim laughs again. “You don’t look good. When was the last time you showered?”
“Thanks.” Kim grunts sarcastically as he moves slowly to lay on the couch, that looks like he has not moved from for days.
The two stare at each other wordlessly not knowing where to go from here. Chay suddenly becomes conscious of the fact that Kim is lying in front of him shirtless and the blush spreads immediately through his body. The man he spent his teenage years crushing on, whose face plastered his walls, was here in front of him once again for the first time in a year. That man was also the man who broke his heart.
“Do you need my help?”
“Huh?” Kim panics for a second, Chay’s flush reddens hearing what he just asked out loud. “It’s okay, I’m okay. I showered this morning. I just couldn’t wash my hair because my shoulder hurts.”
“Oh. Then do you want me to leave?”
“No,” Kim says and his voice sounds vulnerable.
He pats the spot next to him.
Not hesitating, Chay sits down but not too close. “Does it hurt?”
“No, I took some painkillers before you got here and they’re starting to hit.” Chay fluffs the flattened pillow beneath Kim’s head and subconsciously brushes his hair out of his face. “Come closer,” Kim persuades and Chay does.
“If you’ve been here like this, then how are you posting things in different places online?”
“You still follow me? Then why don't you unblock me?” Kim teases a little slur to his words, the medication he is on must be strong.
“No,” Chay says, mimicking Kim’s teasing tone.
“Those are old pictures my manager is posting for me.”
A silence falls upon them. The pain relievers Kim took hit all at once, as his eyes begin to slowly blink up at Chay, like a cat.
“Do you need anything? Water? Food?”
“No, just you.”
“Let me change your dressing.”
Chay takes the route from the lounge room to where the first-aid kit resides, in the main bathroom, which he knows all too well. He has been here before, in this apartment, only a few times last year and he remembers like it was yesterday, leaving polaroid pictures of himself with notes in random places. He wonders if Kim ever found all of them. Was there a picture of him still laying in one of his shoes somewhere? Chay laughs at the thought.
Carefully— gently, Chay replaces the gauze bandage. The incision looks well cared for but the previous dressing of the wound was done messily so he is sure Kim has been taking care of himself since he has had his surgery. Chay feels guilty.
He decides then in this moment, that this time they will make it work. Even in the off chance that Kim doesn’t love him, Chay knows Kim feels something for him, Kim may be a liar but his eyes aren’t.
“Lay with me. Please.” Kim wakes from the short nap he took in the time that Chay changed his bandaging.
Chay slowly maneuvers himself, shaping his body to fit against Kim’s in a way that won’t disturb the healing wound. A hand on his bare chest tracing mindless shapes, this scene also feels familiar. Chay breathes against his neck and Kim closes his eyes contently.
“We have a lot to talk about tomorrow, P’Kim. You owe me a new phone.” Chay whispers.