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You’re a heap of flesh and guts and blood in a wax museum. The only thing real. Sickeningly real. Crimson and warm where the others are pale and cold. Revoltingly red, nauseatingly alive. You’re a child in a graveyard.
- Layana Clouet, A Love Letter to a Dead Thing
The letter feels like a gut bunch. Macau stares at the paper for so long that the words blur into each other until he no longer sees them at all. Of course, he had known. How could he have forgotten about it when his home had turned into a ghost house? In the grand scheme of things, it had just felt so meaningless that it had slipped from his mind.
In the eyes of the law, Macau Theerapanyakul is still a child – even though he hasn’t felt like one in a very long time. His immediate family, like the letter not so kindly reminds him, have all passed away. He is a child with no legal guardian.
There are options for him, as he will become legal in just over a year. If he doesn’t do anything, his closest in kin will automatically be appointed as his legal guardian. Macau would rather die than be placed under the care of Uncle Korn.
Everything that has gone wrong in his life is his uncle’s fault. His family suffered because of him, they are all dead because of him too. He doesn’t doubt that is how he too would end up eventually. After all, Macau is part of the Minor Family and that means he is family only in a name. The Minor Family is disposable, only a means to an end. And Macau has no desire to die for his name, especially when it has never done anything good for him.
He can also try to prove himself capable of caring for himself and thus not needing a legal guardian anymore. Macau supposes the court of law won’t consider his illegally obtained family money and ability to shoot a gun to be sufficient for him to be able to take care of himself.
The third option he has is to appoint someone else to be his legal guardian until he comes of age. It’s not even really a choice when it’s his only option. The question remaining is just who to ask. Or more importantly, who will say yes?
His cousins would be an obvious choice to ask. Macau is quite sure that Tankhun would say yes if he asked him. The other has always been good to him. He could live with Tankhun’s name listed as his legal guardian. He will never ask though because there is no court who would find the older fit for the role due to his mental state. Uncle Korn would make sure of that.
Macau never wants to see Kinn, or Porsche for that matter, again in his life. He blames both of them for the fact that his brother is dead.
Kim – he could ask Kim. They used to be close when they were younger when they had yet to find out what the world was really like. How bloody and cruel their futures were going to be. Somehow the other has managed to make himself a life outside this one and Macau doesn’t want to be the one pulling him back. (Maybe he is also afraid that Kim will say no. That he doesn’t want to come back.)
The list of people runs rather short, Macau thinks. This house has always been so full of people, so full of life. Bodyguards and other staff whom he has considered family. Now there is barely anyone left. Those who didn’t die in their attempt to take over the Main Family were either killed for trying or dismissed and sent away.
There is the aunt who has cooked most of the meals Macau has ever eaten in his life. She has always treated him like her own son. In fact, she has been more of a parent to him than either of his parents ever have been. Macau barely remembers his mother, and most of the time it felt like his father didn’t remember having another son.
She would say yes if Macau ever asked him. That is precisely why he won’t ask her. He knows she has a family of her own somewhere. A family she hasn’t seen in a long time because she is too stubborn to leave his side.
Then there is father’s main bodyguard. Macau is not sure how or why they let the man live after everything, but the man is still here. Though he doesn’t understand why, he owed his life to Macau’s father but his father is dead now. The other is no longer under any kind of contract or oath to work for the Minor Family.
Yet, the man lingers. He follows Macau like a shadow and stands by his side like he did on his father’s. (Macau has yet to decide how to feel about that.)
He could ask him, and he is sure the man would say yes. That’s why he doesn’t ask. Macau already feels too much like he has inherited his father’s life debt. He has never been able to tell if the other is kind to him because he cares or because he feels like he needs to repay him too.
His mother had a family; Macau knows. Even though he has never met them, and doesn’t even know their names, he knows that he could still find them. Maybe they–
The front door slamming shut startles Macau out of his thoughts. There are steps in the hallway – Pete, Macau recognizes the sound. He stumbles his way through the hallway and into the kitchen
Pete’s shirt is inside out and the dark circles under his eyes suggest that he hasn’t been sleeping much. His eyes are red like he has been crying. He doesn’t meet Macau’s gaze, looking past him as if he wasn’t here at all.
Belatedly, he remembers the papers still in his hands. They are wrinkled up, so tightly is he holding them but the words are readable. And no matter how drunk or filled with grief Pete is, he is still a trained bodyguard and always aware of his surroundings.
Pete reaches for the papers and Macau lets him take them. Then the other picks out a bottle from the cabinet, something undoubtedly expensive and old that his father has been saving for an important occasion. Macau just watches him without even trying to stop him. His father is dead, it’s not like he is going to drink any of them anymore.
The other leaves the kitchen with the bottle in one hand and the papers in another. He doesn’t say a word.
Pete doesn’t say a word until three days later. Macau is sitting in the living room and pretending that he knows what is happening in the movie that is currently on. (Even if you held him at gunpoint, Macau wouldn’t be able to name the movie.)
So, he nearly falls from the armchair when Pete suddenly stands next to him and says, “I will do it.”
Macau can’t do anything else but stare at him.
“I will do it,” the other says again, “if you want me to.”
Pete is there, right next to him, but his gaze is far away. He is wearing Vegas shirt. The buttons are all undone and the red fabric makes his skin look sickly pale, like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks. Macau knows the other goes outside only to smoke. He knows sometimes the man smokes inside Vegas’ room because can’t bring himself to leave it. He allows him to do it because he can’t bring himself to care.
If the house burned down, then he would no longer need to decide what to do with it. Then he wouldn’t need to be the one lighting the matches.
This is the house that built him. And what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from? Macau wants to see the place go up in flames. He wants to see it turn into ashes. He wants to wipe it off existence like it was never there in the first place.
This is the house that built him. And Macau wants to preserve it with all his might, after all, it is his home. It is the place where his brother lived, his family lived. This house is all he really has left of them. It is a grave; it is a memorial. Macau wants it to remain unchanging, and he never wants to leave it.
Pete clears his throat, “not forever…”
Macau turns to look at the other. Looks at his hands and the way they cling onto the red fabric, like a drowning man onto a rope. He wonders if staying in the house does more harm or good for them.
“Until you are an adult… that I can do,” the other eventually manages to say.
For a long time, they stay silent.
“Why?”
“You are his brother,” Pete turns finally to look at him, “and he loved you more than anything else in this filthy world.”
“He loved you too,” Macau eventually breaks the silence.
“That’s different,” the other answers and smiles a sad smile. That kind of smile only adults can when they mean you will understand when you are older.
“Vegas would have died for me. For your father. For the Main Family. He didn’t think his life was worth much, if anything. He thought he was worth more dead than he was alive.”
Yes, Macau thinks, and his heart aches. In his eyes, at least, his brother’s only fault was believing when their father said he was nothing. Vegas would have died in a heartbeat if it meant gaining the approval of their father, even if it was just for a moment.
Vegas could have escaped this all so much sooner. This house. This family. Life.
As if reading his thoughts, Pete asks him; “Do you know why he stayed? Do you know why he made sure to get home alive no matter what?”
“Why?” Macau asks, his voice wavering because he isn’t sure if actually does want to know the answer.
“Vegas would have died for anything but he stayed alive for you, Macau.”
He can’t stop the tears from falling down his cheeks. His brother might not have been a good man but he was the best man Macau has ever known.
Pete signs the papers and a week later it is official. Macau doesn’t know what he is supposed to do for the year he has left till he becomes a legal adult with the man who loved his brother. He does hope that knowing he and Pete are together, Vegas will rest a bit easier. (He hopes that knowledge makes his father roll in his grave.)
Macau looks at Pete as the other makes his way to the kitchen. He opens the wine cabinet door like so many times before.
This time, the other leaves the kitchen with empty hands.