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“I told you Porsche couldn’t be trusted.”
The voice grates on Kinn’s ears. He tightens his fingers on his knuckles to quell the urge to drive Tawan’s face into the table.
Porsche is looking at him. Only at him. Clear, calm eyes despite the gun that is currently aimed at him by one of the bodyguards at the back. A testament to the trust he has in Kinn.
Kinn relaxes the grip he has on his hands. They have gotten through so many things. The push and pull, the jealousy, the near death experience. It was a trial by fire and the flames of love forged in it consumed them until they had no choice but to accept that they are each other's.
So they could get through this too.
Kinn slips on the mask and armour that conceal his true self, his true thoughts from people. It is something he had trained himself to maintain around people in their world until it became as easy as breathing. It pains him to have Porsche subject to this as well but he does not have a choice. There are other eyes watching them intently, eager to find a crack in that armour. A slip. A weakness they could pounce on.
Kinn steels himself. "Lock him up."
Porsche's eyebrows draw together. What is Kinn talking about? Lock him up for following him and Tawan because Kinn did not think to share his plans with him? Instead of Kinn reassuring him and explaining what the hell he was doing with Tawan?
Porsche has never been in love. He did not care about any of his past flings; whether they came back to him for repeats or found someone else. And he'd thought Kinn was the same. He was, to an extent. He had rotated between twinks in the early days Porsche started working here.
But Tawan was different. Kinn kept him immortalised in a photo. Displayed in a frame in the room Kinn is in everyday. Porsche swallows down the feeling that is taking root in him. Is Kinn...swayed by Tawan's reappearance? Are the fond memories of the past coming back to him?
Porsche breathes out to ground himself. No, he is overthinking this. "Kinn?" Explain what you mean. Tell me you love me. Tell me there is place for only me in your life, like you'd said last night when I asked about the photo. Tell me what you have been hiding from me. What you talk to Tawan about. These are all the thoughts in Porsche's head. But Kinn's name is the only thing he manages to voice.
"You should know your place," Kinn's tone is flat. "You acted on your own, against the rules of conduct for a bodyguard."
Porsche's stomach twists. He does not recognise this Kinn in front of him. It is as if he has never seen him before. Yet, it looks like Kinn means every word he is saying. Panic begins to claw at him. The insecurity that has been eating away at him the past few days comes back in full force. Was he... just a replacement? Someone for Kinn to hold on to while waiting for his first love to come back?
“Kinn?” He hates it. He hates how it feels like he is being ripped apart and wants to scream his pain but the only word that he can get past his lips is the name of the person tearing his heart out.
Kinn's heart is tugging painfully at the way Porsche looks at him now. Shades of distress turn his amber eyes to a murky brown. Look at me! See me! See beyond what I am showing you. He desperately hopes Porsche hears his unsaid pleas when he says, "I told you. I trust no one."
Porsche cannot breathe. The words strike him like a sharpened knife, aimed to hit where it hurts. He does not know this Kinn. He has never seen him. Or perhaps he has never really known Kinn at all. God, how could he have been so stupid? How could he have ever let his guard down? He should have focused on the reason he agreed to be here in the first place. For Porchay. Actually, maybe he should have been firmer in refusing this job. Not like he was given much of a choice, he thinks bitterly.
Why did he ever think someone like Kinn could love him? Kinn, with his rough edges and sharp words and weary eyes. Porsche only has himself to blame. He should have listened when he was asked to leave at the cliff. Regret and pain and heartbreak become violent waves in a churning sea that he lets himself drown in.
“I wish I’d never met you,” Porsche chokes out.
Kinn inhales sharply. The words form a chip in his armour. His real self bleeds out. Porsche's Kinn bleeds out. "You don't mean that." Surely, Porsche can see past the facade? Surely, there is enough love between them that Porsche can take one look at him and see for himself what the truth is?
Porsche does not say anything. The silence from him makes a crack form in his heart. It feels like fragile glass. “You don’t mean that,” he repeats. There is a desperate undertone in his voice.
Porsche's eyes sting. He blinks rapidly to clear them. He has given Kinn more of himself than he has ever given anyone. He has given Kinn everything that he is. He refuses to give Kinn the evidence of how much his words are shattering his spirit.
He'd been such a fool in love. What was he thinking? He and Kinn could whisper sweet confessions against soft lips in the quiet of the night. They could shout their love from the rooftops. But it would never be enough. Because this world they were in, with its scheming and betrayal and manipulation would find ways to tear them apart. Like it was doing now. And Porsche was an idiot to let himself believe otherwise, that as long as he and Kinn had each other, they could fight this world.
But did he ever have Kinn? Truly?
Kinn refrains from reeling back at the way Porsche is looking at him. Unseeing. As if Kinn is a stranger. Look at me, he implores quietly. Trust me. Love me.
He sees Porsche's mouth move into shapes to sound out words. They are spoken softly, much like the gentle call of death. When his brain finally registers the words, he hears them as if they were as loud as a gunshot.
"I do. I wish l'd never loved you," Porsche had whispered, errant rivulets of tears streaming down his cheeks despite his efforts to stop them.
It is the final nail in the coffin. Kinn's heart breaks all at once and shatters into so many shards he wonders if he'd ever find all the pieces. This is the second time Porsche has said something like this. He got through the first time because he could see the intent behind it. It had been like a bullet. Quick. Sharp. Aiming to hurt him back because Kinn could not control the words that spewed out after seeing Vegas with Porsche. Porsche had lashed out, the way a lover would. But the way he said those words now.
Defeated. As if he has given up on Kinn.
Kinn has had a close brush with death many, many times. But he has never felt the true experience of what dying is like in its entirety. Not like he feels it now, seeping into him, around him, through him. He feels devastation slip into every crevice, turning him inside out, slicing through him until he cannot go back to who he was minutes ago.
He thinks of the moments he and Porsche had together. Kinn has never felt a gentle touch of love since he was a boy.
Then Porsche came and held him so gently; as if he was precious. A thing to be treasured. He brought back memories of what his mother's touch had felt like. Kinn had been lost for so long and every day with Porsche felt like he was being found.
He'd only known Porsche for a few months. And yet he is the only person who had looked at him with such honesty, such affection and love, than anyone else he'd known for years. All his life, Kinn has been taking care of others. Porsche took care of him like it was nothing.
‘Maybe it's because you'd sacrifice a hand for me... or because I like it when you're happy.’
Does all of that mean nothing? Is Kinn really that hard to love? The ache in his chest intensifies so much it becomes a physical thing Kinn can feel.
And yet Kinn knows with absolute certainty that he'd gather all the shards of his heart and put them together. He'd hand it to Porsche, bleeding and cracks showing. Again and again. Because Porsche is everything.
He stands, bracing himself with an arm on the chair and faces away. He cannot bear to see Porsche looking at him with such accusation, such hurt. "Lock him up," he says quietly,
He winces at the ragged, pained breath he hears Porsche take.
Porsche's chest feels tight. His hand absently goes up to press against it. When he lets it drop, he is surprised it doesn't come back stained red.
The bodyguards seize him. He angrily tears himself out of their hold.
He knows where the cells are. He can walk.