Archive of Our Own

1.

["I finally let him go."]
This is how the first page of the note reads.
["He reignited the kindling left by my mother, reminding me of the colours and warmth that once existed in the world.

I love him.

Thankfully, I realised I love him.

We kissed in the swaying cabin, and there was a feeling of dizziness when I closed my eyes. His body concealed evidence of healing wounds, the very sins which I have committed, yet also blossomed into consensual atonement.

Our embrace was so tight, as if we wanted to melt into each other's flesh, yet our lips and tongues intertwined with delicacy. Our warm breaths disrupted the rhythm of our kiss; I slightly opened my eyes to steal a glance at him, only to meet his affectionate eyes that were yet to be disguised.

I never thought the journey to the major family would be so short, short enough that he would fall asleep in my arms for just a moment before waking up again. The car silently came to a stop, as if to say every journey must have its end. I remained silent, memorising the sensation of our intertwined fingers over and over again, pretending it was just a red light.

He couldn't keep up the act any longer, despite the moderate temperature in the car, his cheeks were slightly flushed. He lifted his face and gave me a rare, initiative kiss, then unquestionably leaned against my chest and sat up. A simple gesture which nonchalantly teased my soul.

"I lost to you," I sighed in annoyance yet accepted my loss.

"Fallen in love with me?" he squinted his eyes, smiling somewhat
mischievously, displaying a hint of pride, uncommon but becoming more frequent lately.

"Hmm, madly in love with you. And you?" I ambiguously pressed against his fingertips with my hands, attempting to deepen that "fate" through the delicate skinship.

"Guess?" He lightly withdrew his hand, like a butterfly delicately flapping its wings around a fingertip, then flying away carelessly, leaving me with only a brief residual sensation, as if all of this were an illusion constructed by my brain. He left, walking away with a slightly awkward posture. Before I could even begin to feel melancholic, I started worrying whether this family, full of goddamn raging homosexuals, would notice his abnormality or harbour inappropriate intentions towards him.

I remembered that he used to be that clueless fool who liked to walk around butt naked, who knows how many people took advantage of him! An unfamiliar feeling of jealousy and anger surged within me, and as he looked back and winked at me, he mouthed something.

My Thai is good, he must have said "love you."
Hmm, love you.
It‘s been a long, long night, and my sun has risen.]

-1.

They used to often see the sunrise before, one because of work, the other because they stalk their work. The sky was faintly turning white, Vegas coaxed a different fling than yesterday or the day before into bed. The cupcake was very sweet, but eating too much of it made him feel sick, especially since Kinn had taken a bite out of it.

The act of seizing all of Kinn's possessions no longer seemed to bring him much pleasure, perhaps because it was too easy, lacking in challenge. He contemplated and savoured the kiss, intertwined with the taste of strong liquor with Porsche, determined to make him his before Kinn. Just as he prepared to open the window for a cigarette after sex, Vegas habitually looked over to the familiar black car across the street, only to unexpectedly see Pete leaning against the car, also smoking a cigarette.

The distance between them wasn't close, but the view was clear. Smoke slowly wafted from his thin lips, which were usually held tightly, gradually rising and faintly shrouding his handsome yet slightly weary face. Behind him, the huge arched sun pressed against the crimson sky, fervently engulfing the small dark figure. Against the light, Pete looked up towards his window, despite the one-way glass being protective, Vegas abruptly drew the curtains shut. Damn it, he couldn't even see his face clearly. Why was he getting hard again?

So afterwards, Vegas pulled Pete along to watch the sunrise together. Across the artificial lake was the skyline, with the rosy dawn surging forth, offering a panoramic view.

"That happened?!" The head bodyguard, now reduced to a prisoner, stared wide-eyed from the lawn, lifting himself up.

"It's exhausting! I've been wondering every day if you've evolved beyond needing sleep, how come you're always so energetic! I'd pass out in the car if I didn't have a cigarette!"

Vegas leisurely rested his head on Pete's thigh and said, "Because I don't have to deal with a lunatic during the day."

"Don't talk about Mr. Tankhun like that!" The bold prisoner, with his hands cuffed, playfully ruffled Vegas' hair. The chain between them was brushing against his forehead, sending a chill through his skin.

"Indeed, it's tiring spending time with him, but people with the temperament of a child are like this, I understand him a lot…" His voice gradually faded, and his fingertips quietly lingered in his hair. The golden sunlight quietly spread across Vegas' face, making some of the still-fading red marks appear even more vivid.

They seem to have never been allowed to be children.

"Hmm? Why did you stop defending your precious Mr. Tankhun?" Vegas was strange like that, if Pete had said this about Mr.Tankhun earlier, Vegas would have been sarcastic with his words and whipped him with a belt, but now he was emotionally stable, albeit still snarky. Pete pursed his lips and hummed lightly, but one hand gently covered the wound on his cheek. Vegas trembled imperceptibly, clutching his fist, in the blind spot of Pete’s gaze.

Pete's palm was rough and vast, the slightly cool touch lingering on his stinging cheek, almost igniting a fire. It gave him a long-lost sense of security, like the soft palm of a mother, never expected to be revived.

"You..." Vegas swallowed the impending question,carefully and curiously clasping onto Pete's fingers.

"Hm?" Pete responded inattentively, feeling strange about their current ambiguity. The fingers being held felt hot, and he really didn't dare to think too much about it, so he just looked into the golden, gleaming sun with a troubled expression. The eyes that fell into Vegas' sight were extremely bright, glistening with gentle glimmers like the shimmering lake.

Pete was like the sun.

"Hey, got a cig?" The sun patted him.
"Nah, I quit."
"Bullshit…"

The sunlight generously washed over them together, the uncertain connection between their fingers had made their heartbeats synchronise.

He still wanted to watch more, countless sunrises with him.

But the words dared not leave his lips.

2.

[His body bore many faint scars, reminders of sins I can never erase. He looks somewhat unbothered, waving his hand carelessly,

"I ruined your plan back then. Just surviving being shot was lucky enough. You were more terrifying interrogating the other traitor."

"Fair enough, but truth be told, I've had my eye on you for a while. Subconsciously, I never wanted to harm you."

He gritted his teeth and insisted on fetching a stun baton to take his revenge on me, but in the end, he didn't shock me because he couldn't bring himself to do it.

Dummy, what was there to spare? I've shocked myself several times behind his back. It was painful, the electric current piercing through the skin of my thighs straight to my heart, causing violent spasms time and time again.

I used to scoff at the idea of punishment for crimes, believing myself too powerful to be subject to such notions; After all, I was powerful enough to become the embodiment of the rules.

But I was defeated once again, because these scars, irreparable, were gifts from his lover.

One day, I found myself self-flagellating for my sins.

He still noticed, the charred marks becoming prominent after several overlaps. There was no blame or anger as I had imagined; he just silently applied ointment to my wounds. His tightly stiffened lips made me uneasy, yet the next moment, he calmly placed my hand on the scorched tattoo on his hip bone.

"That's enough. We match."

Shit, he was truly sexy.]

-2.

As his consciousness gradually blurred, Pete found himself somewhat grateful. Since being captured, he had endured too much torture and abuse. Just now, he was whipped into a frenzy for not eating salad, and after managing to unlock the handcuffs with a belt and escape the room, Vegas manhandled him with ease, electrocuted him, dragged him back in and locked him up again.

Vegas, in his mercy, didn't hang him up, but he didn't make things easy either. Pete leaned against the edge of the bed, both arms forced to stay raised, his wrist bones tightly wedged by the handcuffs.

He had no strength left, even the pain was fading away. The scars on his chest burned fiercely, and he faintly smelt a growing odour.

Perhaps he’s had enough fun, Vegas seemed to have forgotten about him and left him hanging for a long time. Pete's senses were muddled, unable to find any source of outlet in the darkness, until Vegas stormed into the room in a fit of rage, emitting a desperate roar like a young beast, however only barely awakening Pete.

What was wrong with him? Even someone who arbitrarily controlled others’ lives could be so shaggered like this…

Pete knew his body was nearing its limit, yet he could strangely clearly see Vegas' movements and expression, as if his soul had left his body, floating in the air.

Vegas' cheeks were red and swollen. He was aggressively slamming against the innocent table with his knee, or rather, the knee was innocent too.

"Get up and humiliate me, Pete!" He turned to the only living creature besides the little hedgehog - no, to be more precise, the semi-alive creature - and growled. Somehow, Pete felt a sense of sorrow in his voice.

Unfortunately, his body couldn't respond with a word.

If souls had physical forms, Pete would surely be standing there with folded arms, watching the commotion unfold with little emotion as the demon frantically shouted his name, whilst shaking his body incessantly.

"What the hell... this was all because of you anyway, just let me die."

The next moment, a wave of pain engulfed him, and Pete keenly felt the unfamiliar warmth on his palms and cheeks.

He plunged into darkness.

Although he had anticipated that Vegas would make an effort to not let him die, Pete didn't expect Vegas to actually take care of his wounds himself. As he struggled to open his eyes, Pete glanced at the layers of bandages on his body and saw Vegas meticulously smoothing out every corner of it.

What a weirdo.

The random allocated light on the wall turned warm yellow, softening Vegas' fierce face. He opened a packet of antibiotics, naturally offering them to Pete.

What a lunatic, as if he didn't cause the injuries himself.

Pete was irritated, his head spinning, and he reluctantly managed to force out,

"Take it away."

Would this psycho strip off all the bandages and whip him again? Pete couldn't help but wonder anxiously.

No, but he went even further.

Despite the slow approach of Vegas pressing the antibiotic pill towards him, Pete's entire body froze. The man seemed innocent as he closed his eyes, almost like he was giving out his first kiss, their lips pressed against and melted into each other as they touched. Pete had never experienced such intimacy with another person, Vegas’ breath domineeringly invaded his mouth, almost reminding him of the tingling sensation of electricity coursing through his body, except it wasn't as painful. Taking advantage of his stunned daze, Vegas effortlessly slipped the pill into Pete's mouth.

A second ago, they were mortal enemies, so where did things go wrong?

Pete's pupils trembled in shock, suddenly coming to his senses. His lips couldn't help but linger on that feeling of tenderness at the time.

What had just… happened?

"Kisses are meant for someone we love," his own voice echoed in his head.

Pete dared not imagine that his first kiss, something he had yearned for so long, would be given out so abruptly and unromantically.

This is way too fucking absurd!!!

Vegas resumed his indifferent demeanour, gently lifting Pete's head to give him water. Of course, he was just putting on an act.

A kiss meant nothing to him, but in that moment of confusion, Vegas had glimpsed the sanctity of a kiss.

The pitiful bodyguard had been wrecked to pieces, lips showing deep cracks like the ground of the desert from dehydration. Vegas was the harbinger of disaster, yet strangely eager to provide aid to his victim.

Something had changed.

Hearing Pete cough as the water went down the wrong way, Vegas snapped out of his thoughts, he sat down on the edge of the bed. Pete reluctantly brought his hands which were hanging above his head, back down, emitting small gasps of pain due to the intense agony.

Vegas had been too hasty in treating Pete’s wounds, he couldn’t find the time to search for the key to the handcuffs. Now that he was awake, there was no need.

"Why didn't you let me die?" Pete urgently tried to shift his attention, seeking an outlet for his growing anxiety. Coincidentally, Vegas was lamenting for his series of reckless actions that had been executed without much thought, making him appear surprisingly concerned about this miserable little bodyguard.

"It would be too easy for you to die like that," he grumbled, somewhat petulantly.

Pete rolled his eyes, somehow relieved that it was such a nonchalant answer, making him feel a bit more at ease, although he felt he had wasted his first kiss… Pete resisted the urge to spit at Vegas.

"You have to endure all of this until I'm satisfied," Vegas added wickedly.

Fine, whatever, thank you very much for reviving me from the dead, Lucifer the morning star.

But then, remembering the desperate roar of the demon lord just before passing out, Pete had a sudden idea. His mouth moved faster than his brain, coming up with a more ambiguous topic.

"What happened to you just then?"

Vegas already said he had reasons for favouring this little bodyguard, see how he is barely alive yet he still had the audacity to seem concerned for him.

...But it felt somewhat good.

The first trauma confession, which was the most secretive and difficult to articulate, somehow flowed naturally from his lips despite its profound nature. Vegas attributed this to Pete being destined to never leave the island, as if he were half an inanimate object. Naturally, there was no restraint when confiding his feelings in a lifeless object.

"My dad just left, saying I'm useless and can't do anything right." Bringing up this matter, he still pouted with discontent, even though it really resembled an expression only a child would have.

"I deserved it. I can't come close to your boss in anything he does."

Initially, Vegas would never admit to being inferior to Kinn, but his father's years of discipline had deeply rooted inferiority in his subconscious. In the situation of banishment from his father, this sense of inferiority quickly dominated his mind like a curse.

"Why would you compare yourself?"

Pete almost immediately identified the core of the issue and instinctively posed the question.

"Why do I compare? My dad always placed great importance on this issue since I was a child. Why else would I say that?" Vegas raised an eyebrow in surprise and replied matter-of-factly, "Because I'm Vegas, the Vegas from the minor family... always beneath the main family."

"You see, even you had already assumed you were inferior to Mr. Kinn from the start." Pete listened attentively, gently curling his lips, but that smile wasn't a conceited sneer, but rather a warm reassurance from a prophet who had turned back around to guide the lost.

"Everyone has their good and bad sides. Everything you're doing is for your dad. You're also a filial son, aren't you?" Pete spoke with effort, articulating slowly and clearly.

Upon reflection, this was their first calm and rational conversation. What's even more absurd is that this little bodyguard, who had just narrowly escaped death's grasp, was now persuading the big demon who held his life in his hands with persuasive words.

Vegas didn't know whether to thank him for his selfless dedication or scold him for only being able to preach simplistic truths. However, in that moment when their eyes met, he was captivated by the gentle sparkle in those eyes.

... fox spirit. (Chinese mythological creatures capable of shape shifting, typically to seduce humans.)

"Besides... it was your dad who lost to his own brother, resulting in you being born into the minor family, naturally beneath the main family. Why should he demand that you surpass your brother in everything?" Pete narrowed his eyes, even though he was weak, the brightness in his eyes remained undiminished.

People always say “Eyes are the windows to the soul”, and Pete's naturally crescent-shaped eyes were extremely endearing, yet because of his audacious frankness, they also revealed a hint of cunningness.

He really found the right person to relieve his boredom; this little bodyguard was quite interesting.

In fact, Vegas had already subtly agreed with Pete's words, but as a young heir of the mafia, he was unwilling to fully come to terms with them, as that would indirectly admit his own immaturity. He snorted coldly, somewhat comtemptuous,

"You're too naive. You haven't experienced what I've been through, have you?"

Everyone understands the logic, but whether one can make the most of it is an entirely different matter. Even if Pete were put into his shoes, did it mean he could necessarily deal with it better than him?

Little did Vegas know, it seemed like Pete was waiting for this moment. His gaze gradually lost focus, looking into the distant past, perhaps at his former weak self. There was a hint of nostalgia in his words, but mostly a calmness as if all hardships had passed.

"My dad forced me into boxing when I was very young. If I lost, he'd beat me to vent his frustration... until one day, I won."

It did sound more unreasonable and violent than his father. Vegas pondered before following up on Pete’s impending sentence, "Then he stopped hitting you?"

Pete chuckled again, this time with a hint of disdain, shaking his head. "No, he still hit me. Only later, I found out that he used to be a boxer himself, but he never won a match, so he took his pain out on me."

Surprisingly... quite worth the empathy, given that they shared similar pasts.

As Vegas contemplated, something suddenly gently bumped against his head, catching him off guard. He turned to see Pete losing his strength, his head tilting towards him, their heads inadvertently touching. But neither of them adjusted. The friction of their hair seemed to spark electricity, and Vegas began to feel a tingling sensation.

"So, do you understand now? They abuse us not because we're worthless." Pete's voice weakened as his strength waned, but his eyes remained stubbornly open. It seemed like he was always this way, he could exhibit the most relentless vitality as long as he had the strength to keep his eyes open.

Vegas wanted to say something more, fear arose from his heart that this long-avoided truth would be laid bare, but he hesitated, with his lips trmbling, he finally gave up his struggle.

"But because they're the ones who are worthless."

His voice was so faint it was nearly ethereal, almost choking, but every word engraved within Vegas' heart.

...Alright, I’ll let him have that.

The air between them fell silent for a long time, their breaths were heavy, and as their heads touched the slight rise and fall in the tempo of their breaths seemed to convey a wonderful synchronisation. They could mutually feel each other's presence. It was a peaceful atmosphere. Keeping it this way... actually wouldn't be so bad after all. In this moment, two similarly fractured souls silently reached out their palms for each other.

"Would you forgive him?" Vegas didn't know if Pete had fallen asleep, so he murmured to himself.

"I will never forgive him... but I have already claimed my victory long ago." Pete was still barely awake, giving an almost lamenting conclusion.

Well, okay then.

Turns out they were both children who were never pinned for hope after all.

But... there are those who can overcome it, whether it takes fractured bones or a gruesome bloodshed, hasn't someone already broken through the prickled barriers and waited for him at the finish line?

It's just that this warrior was stupid, he almost died for no reason at all, a guy who doesn't have any self respect for his own life!

"Mind your own business!" Vegas muttered under his breath, uncertain of what his own mind was fussing about. After waiting for a while without hearing a response from Pete, he carefully turned his head to confirm that the other had fallen back asleep.

Still the same pitiful prisoner, yet capable of making Vegas feel like he’s the one who's narrow-minded and pathetic. What was once the beautiful yet unnoticed character of a bodyguard, suddenly came alive with his own flesh and soul, vivid and lively with individuality. Especially those eyes adorned with stars, indeed they were the most beautiful and captivating when alive.

If such a person were to simply die in that foul-odoured interrogation room…

"You're really something." Vegas deliberately ignored the dense anxiety in his heart, lightly flicking Pete's eyelashes with his fingertips. Pete slept deeply and peacefully, retracting all his thorns, allowing Vegas to do whatever he liked.

It wasn't just him that was letting his guard down, was it?

Something was different… Why did Pete look so good even with such injuries, yet the wounds on his body were such an annoyingly conspicuous sight?

Damn fox!

Vegas kissed his teeth.

Damn it…would these wounds leave a lot of scars?

Indeed, something had changed, Vegas was certain.

After enduring all those beatings and insults, someone actually asked if he was in pain…

As Pete struggled to half-sit up from the bed, his movements pulled at his still-fresh wounds, he winced in pain. "It hurts," Vegas stood at the foot of the bed, sporting a damaged lip and red handprints on his face, his shoulders finally relaxing. Vegas took off his flashy floral shirt and changed into a simple plain-coloured T-shirt, he was supposed to be just a twenty-something university student who should be worrying about exams week and his living expenses.

With his mom gone and his father becoming increasingly cruel, he had to take on responsibility to take care of his younger brother and couldn't afford to expose his own vulnerability to others. So, the child who yearned for his mother's embrace, whimpered silently in the darkness. For the first time, he knew what it felt like to be genuinely cared for.

"...But I don't know why, it doesn't seem to hurt as much anymore." Vegas said with mixed feelings.

"That's good," Pete nodded, as if it were only a natural response.

...Actually, Vegas also wanted to ask Pete if he was in pain. He hadn't eaten anything since going on a hunger strike.

How did this kind-hearted, somewhat foolish little bodyguard become the leader? Did he even remember almost getting beaten to death yesterday? But if he kept refusing to eat anything, his body wouldn't hold up for much longer, and at this point, it wasn't good to force him to eat like he did on the first day.

He can’t die; there would be nothing left to alleviate his boredom!

"You still won't eat?" Seeing the salad untouched on the bedside table, Vegas frowned, staring at Pete with furrowed brows.

Different from the previous interrogation and coercions tinged with humiliation, this time, it was genuine... concern.

Knowing Pete, this stubborn guy, even if you pointed a gun at his head, he would laugh mockingly and die without giving you any expected reaction. But if this concern felt sincere for him, it would be difficult for him to turn a blind eye.

“I’m really hungry, literally starving to death!” Pete thought, but refused to admit to him.

Although he couldn't explain why, Vegas seemed to have no intention of making a mockery out of him like before. After sharing their vulnerable secrets, they empathised with each other due to their similar childhood traumas.

Pete hesitated, glancing at Vegas' worried expression. Why did he look so concerned? Was he putting on an act again...?

But he had been starving for so long, he really didn't want to eat these cold, tasteless leaves to fill his poor stomach. Is it possible to have something warm to eat instead...? Pete shivered at his own thought, how did he even have the audacity to dream about that?

Taking another small peek at Vegas, hmm… he still looked very concerned.

"Have you... left it here for a long time? It looks... cold," Pete blurted out boldly, his heart thumping nervously as he watched Vegas' sharp face transform into the familiar fierce expression, glaring at him before leaving.

Shit… was he going to get a gun to finish him off?

Pete silently lamented, hastily preparing himself with his last words, practising the acronym for all his credit card passwords to tell Vegas so he could relay it back to his grandmother, when suddenly a heavenly scent filled his nostrils.

N O O D L E S!

The little mushroom head was bobbing in the bowl, slurping up the instant noodles. Vegas, unable to hold back his laughter, quickly covered it up with the book in his hand.

This stubborn little pet, he was actually a bit adorable when he‘s willing to eat.

Pete slept for a long, long time, making up for the time he spent waiting eagerly on the side of the bed. When Vegas entered the room at noon and saw that he hadn't woken up, he casually grabbed a book and sat by the bed, waiting for him. However when he couldn't bring himself to focus on the book and suddenly realised he was staring at Pete's peaceful sleeping face, a chill ran down Vegas' spine.

What was wrong with him?!

Hmm... but this little bodyguard did indeed look good, although a bit haggard now. Sweating from his fever, the bangs of his mushroom hair were stuck together like a barcode, not a pleasant sight to his eyes.

Vegas decided to become a newly diagnosed germaphobe.

So, when Pete finally woke up, barely feeling hungry yet, he was dragged into the bathroom by Vegas, still half-asleep. It wasn't until Vegas tried to pull off his only pair of underwear that Pete suddenly woke up, nervously grabbing the hand that was about to cause trouble.

"What are you doing?" His tone was sharper than when he was being whipped with a belt, almost breaking into a falsetto.

Vegas didn't know where he got the sudden burst of energy, but Pete’s stubborn hands refused to budge.

"What are you embarrassed for? I've already seen it all." Vegas retorted.

Pete remained silent, his lips pressed tightly together, only using those shiny, stubborn eyes to stare back at him, he appeared to have already forgotten all the beating he had received.

"Tsk.” Vegas kissed his teeth, “Wash yourself then, don't get the wounds wet." Vegas felt annoyed seeing that expression, forcefully pulling Pete’s hands away, causing a clattering sound as the chain rattled. The back of his hand was left with several bright red finger marks from Pete’s pinching, he tossed the showerhead to Pete without a word.

"Dirty ass."

It seemed like since that bowl of instant noodles, Pete couldn't help but compromise terms with him... not a good sign.

As Vegas scratched his head and casually disappeared from the door, Pete quickly closed the bathroom door to prevent him from changing his mind. Although the chain was in the way for the door to lock properly, it was still better than nothing. Vegas didn't bring him new clothes, and he couldn't ask for them, so he reluctantly put on the same underwear after rinsing his lower body.

How pitiful, this was actually his only possession now.

As soon as the sound of water stopped for a moment, the door was pushed open without hesitation. Vegas watched Pete hastily pull up his pants and couldn't help but sneer, "Who do you think would care to see you naked, all dirty like that."

But Vegas saw what he wanted to see anyway, pale and plump, very nice and beautifully shaped.

What position was Vegas in to have the balls to call him ‘dirty’?!

Pete turned his head with a bitter expression, the barcode looking bangs still distinctively lying on his forehead.

"Dumbass…" he grumbled relentlessly, but his actions were surprisingly gentle. Vegas kicked the small stool, signalling for Pete to sit down, while he tested the water temperature with his hand.

Pete sat nervously, shrinking his neck, afraid that Vegas would soak him with water for fun again.

But no, a hand that could be considered gentle pushed his head towards the bathtub, followed by a stream of water at just the right temperature. Fingers cupped his hair, completely soaking it. Something unbelievable happened— the young heir of the minor family was washing the main family's head bodyguard's hair.

"I-I-I can do it myself!" Some deep-rooted sense of hierarchy difference made Pete somewhat anxious, raising his hands that were still restrained to try to reach for the showerhead, only to be mercilessly slapped down.

"Just stay still, klutz, there's no way I’m undoing the handcuffs," Vegas said, firmly holding his hands down.

"I didn't say anything..." Pete grumbled angrily, since waking up he has been constantly being unreasonably scolded by Vegas, but he obediently didn't move further.

While drying his hair with a towel, Vegas couldn't help but sigh, "I used to have a pet dog a long time ago..."

"Don't make me bite you!" The little dog protested angrily.

Vegas covered Pete's face with the cloth, listening to his struggling noises, whilst wiping away the water on his face along the way, revealing a pair of bright, shining, and murderous eyes.

...The clean little dog was really beautiful.

Removing the bandages from his upper body, the wounds were still not healed, the bloody and rotten flesh was exposed to the air, emitting a faint smell of blood and ointments. When tearing apart the adhered parts, Vegas clearly felt Pete’s body trembling with pain, covered in cold sweat. He furrowed his brows in regret, he should have waited to wash his hair later.

Pete kept his head down, leaving only the top of his head visible, habitually hiding all possible indications of pain.

These scars were the best reminder of their irreconcilable positions in their family hierarchy and the unquestionable abuses he had received.

He patiently cleaned and changed Pete's wounds again. In this situation, anything being said or done felt strange, so the silence fermented in the small bathroom, nearly reaching the breaking point. Even though they were facing each other, their eyes weren't able to meet.

"Uh... thank you." Pete couldn't stand the awkwardness and broke the silence, but the content also made Vegas raise his head to look at him with mixed feelings.

"Even though you were the one who hit me..."

Pete's somewhat stiff expression unexpectedly struck Vegas' funny bone. With a smile, the stifling atmosphere from earlier dissipated, and Pete couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief.

"Head bodyguard, you're really interesting."

Here we go again, this guy is really off the mark.

Pete rolled his eyes inwardly and decided to let bygones be bygones.

Putting on the last piece of adhesive bandage, Pete's hair was almost steamed dry. His soft mushroom head had grown a bit longer, looking very tamed and adorable.

The clean little dog was really beautiful! Hopefully, the wounds will heal without leaving scars…

“Owners of hedgehogs appear tough and scary on the outside, but deep down, they are actually very sensitive and in need of love.”

As Pete walked towards Vegas who was holding the hedgehog, this was what he kept repeating in his mind.

It was so accurate.

"It's dead." Vegas looked up with teary eyes, his vision blurry. He no longer had the energy or desire to disguise his vulnerability.

He had mourned the passing of his hedgehogs dozens of times before, and yesterday he knew clearly that this last one was about to leave him as well.

The key left on the bed wasn't coincidental; he... didn't want to watch Pete die like all his other hedgehogs.

At the end, he would be the only one left behind by them anyway.

But no one expected Pete to turn back. That hesitant hand, which firmly grasped Vegas' knee, bore many scars and marks. Mercy from the victim acted like a switch, with its release, all his repressed emotions instantly erupted like an avalanche. Vegas couldn't stop trembling and weeping bitterly.

Someone had come to accept and share his grief.

A fresh and vibrant hydrangea passed between them, the flower which symbolises rebirth was solemnly placed on the soft mound of soil. Separated by soil, the flower and the hedgehog's body would soon decompose together, merging into the mud into one. In the future, they would bloom once again on high branches, witnessing sights that the hedgehog had never seen before.

That was the rebirth of lifeless objects.

When Vegas walked towards the house, he didn't look back. Pete stood still for two seconds before following.

just tonight, Pete would rather forget who they were, forget the pain of loyalty engraved on his hip bone. This matter was only related to a smaller, and more personal desire—he couldn't leave this ‘hedgehog’ who was abandoned by other hedgehogs, because he knew how much he had longed for somebody to put their hand out for him, when he was beaten to the brink of death by his father in the soiled ground on that rainy night.

Was it out of control, or was it meant to be?

He didn't know, nor could he figure it out.

When Pete suddenly pulled Vegas back and kissed him, his mind was terrifyingly calm, as if he hadn't thought of anything at all. The air heated up rapidly, the clothes that were ‘in their way’ were quickly removed, and they desperately exchanged many kisses along the way.

Their bodies, almost like they had forgotten about the grief just a moment ago, took over from the comforting words and intertwined closely, trying to mutualise the warmth from each other's embrace. With their eyes closed, they couldn't see each other's sly smiles, unable to determine who had a more satisfied expression, but their wholehearted joy diffused into the air underneath the blue-purple lights, both firmly believing that the other person was a willing accomplice in each others downfall.

Ropes, chains, kisses, thrusts, releases, whether cold or soft, all elements fit together seamlessly. Their love-making stemmed from primitive animal instincts, yet it was undoubtedly a deep communication between two pure souls. Losing themselves within the process.

After being immersed in lust, their naked bodies leaned against each other, their minds still echoing with the residual euphoria of dopamine, lost on cloud nine. When they looked into each other's eyes, their foreheads and brows touching, their heavy breaths huffing against each other, they were almost unable to see each other's faces clearly from the extremely close proximity.

Pete laughed wholeheartedly, his bangs falling on both sides of his face, the ambiguous light highlighting his mesmerising smile, completely different from what Vegas has seen before, yet so natural.

Every side completes Pete. Beneath the restrained hard shell, the fiery magma churned.

Vegas couldn't help but feel a little caught off-guard.

Although Pete had always been referred to as a pet, Pete had shown a submissive attitude only when he voluntarily handed over the rope to Vegas.

Thinking back, those eyes looking up at him were so pretty. His pupils reflected back his face, with the most delicate smile expressing the rare trust he had for anyone, those pairs of eyes, gazing back at him, turned into the glistening waters of spring, gently expressing trust.  It would be appropriate to regard it as temptation from his seductive nature.

When the pleasure subsided, their bodies finally caught on to the late-night chill. Vegas shivered, slowly propping himself up, only to realise that Pete was almost falling asleep from exhaustion. The bandages on his body were crumpled, soaked with sweat, and needed to be redone.

Vegas patted Pete's still slightly red cheeks to wake him up, then proceeded to untie the ropes which were binding his wrists. In fact, it wasn't tied tightly, and the knot was very simple, it wouldn’t take the main family’s head bodyguard more than a second to break loose, but even when he made him cry out the most agonising yell, he didn't choose to break free. Perhaps it could be considered a form of self-punishment.

He was indeed a dangerous yet adorable madman.

After waking up, Pete became somewhat silent and absent-minded. Vegas knew that once he regained his clarity of mind, he wouldn't feel good, especially after sexual intercourse with someone as "filthy" as himself.

But the major family wasn't any better, they just know how to disguise themselves more.

"What, regretting it already?"

As the bathtub filled with water, the question, with a hint of bitterness, inexplicably felt unreal amidst the gurgling sounds of water. Pete, not quite accustomed to his long lost freedom, stared at his free hands, feeling subtly incredulous at how naturally and harmoniously they occupied the same space.

Oh, the kind where they’re both butt naked.

"I don't think it's necessary to wrap the wound up anymore, let it air out." Pete lowered his head and touched the scar on his chest, which had almost closed up. The tissue had grown into long narrow protrusions, softer to the touch than ordinary skin.

"...Hm, I'll put some ointment on it later." At this point, Vegas admits he was indeed in the wrong, so he let Pete easily slide from avoiding his question. He intended to apologise for his impulsive emotions earlier, but he couldn't bring himself to do it, so he just tried to control himself as much as possible and not make things worse by saying hurtful words.

Seeing that the water level was about right, Vegas turned off the tap, gesturing for Pete to sit in the bathtub, then sprinkled some fresh rose petals into it.

"Why do you even have stuff like this?" Pete picked up a petal with some disdain. His achy body was enveloped in warm water, it soothingly wrapped him up.

Considering their intimate intercourse, his true emotions naturally became more slacken, they started teasing each other like every other pair of ordinary lovers.

The amorous son of the minor family poured in another handful of rose petals, then stepped into the other end of the bathtub under Pete's horrified gaze. The bathtub wasn't small, but accommodating two men facing each other still felt a bit cramped. Vegas casually picked up a petal and held it in his mouth. He raised his slightly swollen eyes, his fragility softened his gaze and created an illusion of deep affection within his eyes.

Vegas’ hand gently stroked Pete's cheek. Perhaps it was the steam getting to his head or perhaps he was simply exhausted, but either way Pete didn't react much. So Vegas leaned forward, and the rose petal smoothly landed between their lips. Feeling the disrupted airflow, he joyfully bit into the petal, finally tasting Pete's lips as he had desired.

The taste of the petal wasn't particularly wonderful, the bitter juice blended in with a unique floral scent. He couldn't help but frown at the taste and yet, it was weirdly addicting, a fitting description for their bizarre relationship.

After the kiss, Pete hurriedly finished tidying himself up, ignoring Vegas' ambiguous gaze as he stood up, leaving a puddle of water on the floor. Bright red petals stuck to his fair thighs, making him look even more alluring.

Blushing, he muttered softly, complaining as he patiently gathered the wet petals in his hands, and threw them onto Vegas' chest before fleeing the scene.

Perhaps it was the instinctual possessiveness towards his partner that was still at play, as Vegas mindlessly stared into the direction Pete had left, he unconsciously clutched the petals to his chest, only to find emptiness within, as if he had lost something named the heart.

Luckily, it wasn't long until Pete's head peaked through the doorway again, asking if Vegas could lend him some of his pants, his nervous gaze darting around. With his flushed face and anxious fidgeting, Vegas instantly snapped back to reality.

"Sure." Unexpectedly, he got up from the water, and to no surprise, saw Pete hastily retract his head, he couldn’t help but grin, it was somewhat amusing.

What was that shy demeanour for? He could never overwrite the fact that he had pulled his neck back for a kiss. This was something Pete could never even think about trying to deny.

Being able to wear pants seemed to make Pete very happy. He obediently sat on the edge of the bed waiting for Vegas to apply the ointment, with his hands resting behind, legs swinging gently, presenting a relaxed and laid-back version of himself.

But at such an unfitting moment, the sight of Pete, so free and radiant, an unfounded feeling of anxiety and emptiness suddenly made Vegas clutch his chest, struggling for air.

The blissfulness he had received in his life was always fleeting. Maybe tomorrow when he woke up, Pete would disappear from his life like the little hedgehog from tonight. He left the key, fearing he might develop false hope for Pete’s halt again, but as Pete returned, those hopes naturally came back, conveying into a restless feeling of uncertainty that he might leave any moment.

No, he shouldn't hurt him again, but... but...

Thump, thump. Vegas clearly heard his heart pounding like the sound of a funeral bell, the exploding ringing in his ear momentarily took away his sanity in an instant.

"Pete... would you always stay with me?" The question slipped out involuntarily as he tried to conceal the imperceptible tremor in his voice.

Pete's legs, which had been shaking slightly, froze. His response to Vegas was a drooping head and a long silence.

Yeah, there was no one that would choose to stay with him. Neither his pets, nor the one he loves, there were no exceptions.

Vegas numbly picked up the handcuffs from the ground, heading towards the person he desperately wanted to keep.

The grating sound of metal collision rang out again, once the most frequent sound in this room, now sounds like it only occurred in another parallel universe, it became unbelievably ironic to Pete's ears.

Pete reminisced those affectionate eyes, softened by the mist, under the warm lights, they didn't look as hateful anymore. But then he miserably realised that, the same old protagonist in those unbearable sextapes, all had such eyes.

Unwilling to look up again, he allowed himself to be lifted by one of his hands, thus missing Vegas' struggling, fragile, and somewhat desperate expression.

The familiar cold touch, “click”.

Oh, right, these scars needed to be treated.

Please heal quickly.

...They’d disappear, right?

3.

[ I was very anxious about my proposal.

The casual utterances to do with "love" and "promises" were once my most used tactics, but Pete has seen them all in the video tapes… because of this, even though I was certain that we love each other deeply and even though I want to tell Pete "I love you" ten thousand times a day, there were nine thousand, nine hundred times when I lost the courage to say it when it mattered the most.

I secretly bought a ring and tucked it away in the deepest corner of the bedside drawer, created and modified thirty-two proposal plans in the notes app on my phone, but I always felt there was something lacking. I was too afraid. It's the most precious moment of my life, I must ensure it's perfect, flawless, meticulous to the point where; when I put on the ring, the camera five metres away could capture the residue of the sunset, brushing against the top of our heads as we exchanged our vows.

It can also be because of my timidity. In front of Pete, I can admit all my flaws without the fear of holding back, because he could always make up for them.

But I forgot, Pete has always been braver than me.

On an ordinary and happy night, he rested his hands around my neck, his heavy breathing gradually began to calm down. Just as I was about to tease him for another round, he suddenly exerted force and reversed our positions on the bed.

With his hands firmly pressing on my shoulders, one knee threateningly wedged between my legs, I still haven't realised the seriousness of the situation. I even felt secretly turned on by his unusual initiative gesture, the dirty words still brewing in my mouth, before I was bombarded with his sudden inquiry.

"When are you planning to give me the ring?" His cheeks were flushed with desire, making him stunningly beautiful, his bright eyes were clear and confident. He casually gestured the location of the ring with his chin, while his other hand firmly pinched my nose, shaking it.

"What's the point of rewriting proposals on your stupid memo in bed every day? I'm only asking you one thing, will you marry me or not?" There seemed to be a churning fire in Pete's eyes, melting away the thin layer of ice and snow residue within my heart. He reached under his own pillow and pulled out a small box.

The box was opened not so gently, revealing two identical rings nestled inside, the finely arranged diamond fragments were sparkling under the bedroom light. Finally, it snapped me back to reality.

Pete was proposing to me.

Completely unprepared and naked, with adrenaline surging through my body from the surprise. I almost lifted him up in the air from joy, ecstatic like a fool. At that moment, I realised that there was no need for perfect and meticulous planning, no need for cooperation from the sunset. Being entrusted to spend your lifetime together with someone, being their first and only choice, every second was an irreplaceable miracle.

"I do, do you?" My voice trembled uncontrollably.

Tears of joy were nothing to be ashamed of. He chuckled at my emotional reaction, gently wiped away my tears with his thumb and leaned down to kiss my wet eyes, as if the soft wings of an angel brushed past.

"I do too." The angel said.

I no longer doubted my own worth and abilities. Since I had been favoured by the angel, I only needed to spend the rest of my life devoted to loving him even more.

The two rings I prepared were cut from the same one, the engravings were irregular and the shapes were different, but strictly symmetrical, fitting perfectly together as one.

It was the best description of us.

Later, we escaped from our families and held a small wedding in Chumphon, Pete’s hometown. Of course, before that, I finally proposed to Pete, and successfully captured the moment when the sunset infested the skyline with colour on the top of our heads.

The sunset by the sea dyed everything into a beautiful crimson hue. I remembered Pete who had been engulfed by the sunrise in my memory. Perhaps in someone else's eyes, Pete and I were also being engulfed by the sunset at this moment in time.

Although it was grim to say, I really wanted to die in the sun together with Pete.

The wedding was organised by Pete's grandmother, she was the most enthusiastic old lady I had ever met, gathering everyone who she knew well on the entire island. No one questioned the marriage of two men, they all cheered joyfully, filling the yard with the vibrant coloured fruits they brought, and drenched us with water that carried blessings and wishes.

Grandma reluctantly let go of Pete's hands and placed them into mine, patting my shoulder with force, tears gleamed in the wrinkles of her eyes.

"Grandma, Pete will no longer suffer from any harm." I bowed my head and solemnly swore to her.

The priest was reciting vows about poverty and wealth, sickness and health. However the celebration was too noisy, so much so that I couldn't focus on anything being said, and could only see Pete's eyes accommadate the rays of the warm sun, gentle yet profound.

And, there was something else, only my reflection in his pupils.

My groom was the most handsome person in the world, and his groom was too.

"Pete, the guitar belongs to Hector, I belong to you."

We exchanged rings twice, each worn on the ring finger of both hands.

His smile was radiant, and coincidentally today was a day filled with sunlight.

"Vegas, I love you."

In front of the numerous witnesses, I kissed my sun. He held me so tightly, his light shined down on me generously, warming me up with his love.

I have never felt so free before, the shackles that had entangled my body and heart for more than twenty years were melted and torn apart.

The beginning of November was a good time, just enough for us to fly to Mexico for the last day of the Day of the Dead. The town of Santa Cecilia was immersed in the most enthusiastic celebration of the year, with the usual avoided grim elements of skeletals everywhere. Everyone laughed sincerely. Influenced by such an atmosphere, we casually bought two bouquets of marigolds and placed them on the main altar in the central square.

"It’s too far here, mom may not be able to make it here." Pete sat on the bench, swinging his legs, half-jokingly leaned closer to my ear and said.

"She will, just wait and see."

The lively parade happened to pass in front of us, friendly residents threw a bunch of flower petals at us, saying a few blessings that I didn't understand. "We remember them so clearly, they might just be chatting nearby."

"Vegas," Pete waved to them with a smile, then leaned against me, letting his shoulder rest against mine. "Remember? Death is the ultimate meaning of life."

It seemed meaningful, but upon further thinking, I couldn't figure it out exactly.

I turned my head and kissed his hair, then his earlobe, watching it blush again uncontrollably.

"Macau’s ass better not forget us, or it would interrupt our romance down here," I nudged his ear with my nose, feeling the unusual warmth radiating from it and grinned with satisfaction.

He chuckled lightly and leaned back, then reached up and plucked a petal from my hair.

"Well, then I'll be looking forward to it."

Tsk, I should publish our love story, let it be remembered for generations, then Pete and I can forever be in love in the Land of the Dead.

Perhaps due to the film's influence, every street in the town was accompanied by a lively music store, with the most iconic instrument being Hector's signature guitar.

Therefore I pursued the person I liked with a guitar, and he readily agreed, even said he'd marry me.

In the winter, we flew to Iceland. We stepped out of the plane only to be harshly greeted by the cold which we people had never experienced in the southern climate before, then instinctively and excitedly blew our frosty breath onto each other's faces.

Facing the towering Kirkjufell mountain of Snaefellsnes Peninsula, the auroras and the icy sun danced in the misty, frosted glassy sky, soon followed by another snowstorm laced with ice fragments.

The edge of the world was quiet and lonely, light grazed over the floating ice day after day, and we were the only two human survivors in this apocalypse.

"Vegas, it's too cold in the snow, it's true when they say that you have the best imagination for things when you've never seen it before.." He complained softly, however he didn't lose any passion when squeezing the snowballs, I abruptly turned around and the snowball just barely brushed past my ear with a ferocious gust of wind.

"Are you trying to kill me?!" I exclaimed, then flung myself at him, surprisingly easily toppling him over onto the snow, I quickly changed positions and slid myself underneath him so he wouldn’t fall on his head.

Even snowflakes adorned his hair and eyelashes, they melted into glistening dewdrops with a gentle blow. It was also at this moment that the town's lights began to flicker on, radiating colourful streams. The streets echoed with the tinkling melody of bells.

Right, today is Christmas.

Nights near the Arctic Circle come very early, and the town, adorned with colourful lights, comes alive, decorating the streets with liveliness. People flood out from their houses, exchanging casual greetings to familiar or unfamiliar people, and casting us an ambiguous glance as they pass by.

"Happy birthday," Pete propped himself up on me, his long red scarf dangling down to my chest.

"Beautiful elf of Christmas, can you give me a kiss?" I earnestly requested.

"Sure." He smiled and agreed, unwrapping a piece of chocolate wrapped in red and green foil, then leaning in.

So sweet.

In the last few days of our honeymoon, he enthusiastically suggested going to Las Vegas, to see the city I shared a name with.

Wherever Pete says, we go. We had an unexpectedly wild journey, chased several times by locals with guns, reliving the Fast and Furious film series in reality.

He cheered quietly amidst the gunfire, while I was about to shit myself every time. When we get back, I'll definitely keep an eye on him, we can't be looking for this kind of risky fun again.

But, as expected, I already knew, he's a madman just like me.

Mom, I have a perfect partner.]

-3.

"There's no point." Vegas obediently sat on the edge of the bed, letting Pete apply ointment to his bleeding lip, then stubbornly uttered.

"Mm-hmm, sure." Pete's attitude had shifted from anger to carelessness. He focused on unscrewing the lid of the ointment, too lazy to even look at him.

"Pete, you're becoming more and more reckless." Vegas punched the blanket, his head tracked Pete’s face like a surveillance camera.

Pete sighed, miming a zipper closing over his mouth with his fingers, then obediently lay down on the other side of the bed, dragging the chain with his hands followed by clanking noises… then began to stare off into space.

There weren't any books left to read in the safe house, there was no way to kill time. He had no idea how much longer this ordeal would last.

Being ignored by Pete felt irritating. Vegas, with a burst of anger, pulled out his own laptop viciously, and commanded Pete, "Don't sleep, watch a movie with me."

Pete's eyes lit up.

"Watch this one! 'Coco'!" Among an impressive amount of movies, Pete steadied the mouse wheel on this particular one. He happily patted Vegas and urged him to play it.

Vegas glanced at him with an unimpressed expression, "Hmph, an animation film. What are you, a child?"

Obviously, the reason why the movie was even on Vegas’ laptop in the first place was because he liked the movie himself.

"It's really good! I've been wanting to rewatch it for ages!" The intro music was already playing, Pete was still very excited however he hesitated subtly for a moment, "But I never thought I'd be rewatching it with you..."

Vegas chuckled lightly, then pulled Pete into his arms. The fluffy mushroom head gently rested against his chest, giving off the fragrance of citrus shampoo, Vegas' favourite scent.

His heart felt content.

"Hey, Vegas, let me test you, do you know who plays the guitar?" Pete poked Vegas' abs eagerly, his eyes lighting up.

"You'll find out if you keep watching," Vegas lazily replied.

"Guess!" Pete persisted and kept poking him, but the only answer he received was the feeling of something gradually hardening beneath his butt…

His fingers froze in mid-air and he shakily withdrew his hand, not daring to move again.

"Do you still want me to guess?" Vegas smirked.

The cute mushroom vigorously shook its head.

"Actually, I can play the guitar too." Vegas suddenly said as the movie was about to end, "I use the guitar to ask out the people I liked."

Pete was somewhat baffled and responded dryly, "Oh... um... impressive, you know so many skills." He squirmed, trying to escape Vegas' embrace but was held in place by a firm hand.

"You don't think I'm going to play the guitar for you next, do you?" Vegas mocked playfully. Recently, Pete had been too emotionally stable, leaving him few opportunities to mock him. He had to take advantage whenever he could.

"...Psycho." Pete paused, then turned his head muttering, "Of course... not."

To be honest, it wouldn’t hurt to play for Pete... Vegas was somewhat lost in thought.

Realistically speaking , he didn't have anyone he liked, he just wanted to piss Kinn off by sleeping with his partners. If he had to pick someone... Why did it seem like the most suitable one was...

Overthinking it, overthinking it!

Shaking his head, Vegas tried to shake off the increasingly uncontrollable thoughts and opened up another topic as the movie's outro music played. "Pete, I heard your family lives on a small island. What's life like there? Is it like 'The Old Man and the Sea'?"

Pete couldn't quite keep up with Khun Vegas' eccentric thought process and his "shallow" knowledge. He patiently explained modern tourism to him. It was because Mr. Korn had a keen eye and developed the diving paradise of Chumphon, which somehow made Pete end up in Bangkok, working as a bodyguard.

Apart from his sly expression when hearing about the major family, Vegas' attitude was still quite positive. He nodded, saying, "Sounds fun. When I was a child, I often thought about what it’d be like being a kid from an ordinary family, not having to be rich, but just enough to eat and get by, with ordinary and loving parents... not being forced to attend private lessons organised by my father and those tutors seven days a week, having the chance to talk to my parents about school at the dinner table... that kind of life."

Pete chuckled, shaking his head, "Vegas, that kind of life is far from ordinary; it’s already very privileged. My dad couldn't earn money, my mom died early because we couldn't afford the treatment for her illness. Living off being a fisherman was dangerous and difficult; there were incidents of shipwrecks every year. The island is only so big, secluded with hardly any schools for education.

Before I came to Bangkok, I had never seen what a real train looked like. And... back then, the industry hadn't developed, we couldn't afford education. My grandmother was sick, and I... didn't have the chance to go to university. I dropped out of high school after one year and went underground fighting to survive."

He talked about this past lightly, perhaps only Pete understood his own struggles and regrets along the way. His passion for food was just the sequel of not having enough to eat during his childhood.

He stared at the ceiling, a nostalgic smile adorning his face, "Actually, I did pretty well in my studies."

Vegas felt an unusual sense of discomfort, these struggles he never had the opportunity to think about were weighing down others’ lives with an unreasonable and harsh force. Although childhood pains and traumas were a hundred percent true heartfelt by every child and it's difficult to compare them to each other, but...

"Have you only been to Bangkok then? You haven't travelled anywhere else?" Vegas changed the topic, sounding somewhat uneasy.

Pete thought for a moment and started counting his fingers. "Chiang Mai, Chon Buri... basically wherever Khun Kinn and Tankhun went on business trips, but it's still part of work. Speaking of which, I've never seen snow..."

Living in the tropics, there wasn't even a slightly thick coat in his wardrobe. His imagination of the cold and snowflakes could only rely on internet images.

"And volcanoes, auroras, glaciers... The TV at home had only a few channels, luckily they aired these documentaries, I love watching them." He sighed again, the light in his eyes that spoke of interest dimmed as he looked down at the sturdy shackles on his wrist.

"Live on the island, die on the island…doesn't seem too bad."

"What are you mumbling again?" Vegas grumpily tousled Pete's mushroom head. "If only death were as simple and joyful." He closed his laptop, lied down and pulled up the covers.

The air conditioning was set to a low temperature, under one blanket, the warmth of two bodies was comfortable and cosy.

"What do you mean?" The drowsy Pete asked with half-closed eyes.

Without waiting for a response, he fell into a blissful sleep.

"I told you you're a fool and you still don't believe it... Pete?" Pete didn't respond, his steady breathing implied that he was truly asleep.

"I won't forget you, and you're not allowed to forget me. Oh, and also I don't want you to die now." He whispered to the sleeping Pete, speaking to the air.

"And... I kinda want to take you to see the snow and kinda want to play the guitar for you to listen to."

The more he looked at Pete, the more visually pleasing the sight became, even though he was just breathing.

Vegas sighed, also covering his head with his palm.

"I couldn't have possibly... fallen in love with you, right?"

4.

A lot of pages from the middle of the notebook had been torn out, leaving only the last thin sheet of paper, with wide gaps and frayed edges.

[Pete, death is really simple, but not at all joyful.

Pete, death is everlasting and sorrowful.

Pete, the parade of the festival is so long, it seems like it wouldn’t end even until the end of time.

Pete, it's snowing heavily in Bangkok today, just like the day we got covered in snow in Iceland.

Pete, Macau said the snowflakes on my head weren't from the snow, they were my white hair. I don't believe him, clearly there were many snowflakes on your hair too, like an elf.

Pete, today is the Day of the Dead, and now... I'm really good at making curry rice.]

-4.

The curry rice was knocked out of his hands by his father.
The sharp shards of china plates punctured many things, such as his self-perceived growth and the blissful wishes packaged in colourful bubbles.
Vegas, bearing the bloodstains scratched violently by the minor family ring, stared silently at the rice on the ground in a daze.
Pete... had just applied ointment for him, it all had gone to waste again.

It won't get better, no matter how hard they try. As long as his father is around, he'll always be the child ruled by instinctive fear, smacked back to his original form with a single slap, making his inspired thoughts and realisations from Pete’s words seem even more absurd.

What good would it do to serve him the curry rice he made? Does he even have the ability to keep Pete safe amidst the huge division between the main family and the minor family? Even the oldest heir of the minor family, himself, would eventually become a product of sacrifice for his father's relentless attacks on the main family, paving the way for the unborn child in the mistress’ belly.

What a load of bullshit.

Vegas forcibly picked himself together and cooked up some noodles, not looking at the pile of shards on the ground, and pushed open the door to Pete's room.
"Vegas, turn yourself in to the main family."
What was he talking about?
"Khun Korn is very forgiving, he won't do anything to you."
What exactly was he talking about?
"Who’s fault do you think it is that made me this way?!" Vegas shouted disappointedly, he was mind blown by Pete’s words.
"No, it depends on you." Pete said slowly but firmly.
The string snapped.
Destined to lose and lose again from birth, what in this fate was truly under his control?
The future was bleak, silent and dangerous. Just when he finally had someone he desperately wanted to protect and accompany, they insulted him with the most unpleasant words.
"Thud."
A muffled sound, the porcelain bowl smashed to the ground. The plain noodles lay flat, and the broth flowed through the floor cracks, splashing a few drops on Pete's trembling feet.
His shattered and turmoiled heart was extremely sensitive at this moment in time, it shrunk fiercely with the muffled sound.

Life here was too comfortable, Pete had become accustomed to many things he shouldn't have. After Vegas left the room, he almost instinctively wanted to follow, but then he snapped back to reality abruptly the moment he realised the handcuffs tugged.

In fact, there were palm prints on Pete's face too, ones he had just inflicted on himself, purposely deep hidden in the shadows.

Vegas wiped his face and turned to him. His face, which had been a mixture of stubbornness, sadness, and pain, suddenly transformed into the evil face of a demon. The red light casted a dark shadow from the side, and the bloodstains on Vegas’ face went from pitiful to horrifying.

This seemed to be the Vegas that Pete was familiar with. Brutal, ruthless, ready to vent his emotions anywhere at any time, and not like a peacock, acting all reluctant just to play the guitar for him.

Storm clouds were gathering, but Pete just stared at him firmly, without any evasion or retreat. The embellished warmth couldn't last forever, they both needed to make a decision.

His neck was firmly gripped, Pete symbolically reached out trying to pry it off, laughing at his own subconscious disbelief. The pain and suffocation quickly rushed to his brain, and then the words in his ears became somewhat distorted, but every word sounded like thunder.

"Don't think that just because you've had sex with me, you can be all snarky with me. In the end, you're nothing but my pet."
It was Vegas' gift to pick the vilest words to assail people’s hearts and while it usually brought him satisfaction, this time it didn't.

Those words were spoken, and both ends of the blade were bloodied.
Pete smiled bitterly.

Yes, he was nothing but a pet.

Just ten minutes ago, the loyalty he
had held on to for over a decade, and the butterflies he felt in his stomach for over just a dozen days, were fighting relentlessly, every stab piercing his own heart.

Always used to accommodating, accustomed to being needed by others, regardless of how nice it sounded to talk about being the saviour of it all, all the pain he suffered— the pain that tore himself apart and reshaped him— had no meaning at all.

Pete, from the very beginning, never had the right to choose a side, not even the dignity of being his own individual.
A pet with aggressive tendencies, despite how much it pleases the owner, still needs to be leashed. All the affection given was just condescending charity work. Being tamed and moulded to satisfy the owner's desires, that was the owner's need.

He spent a long time alone, the room had no windows, always silent to the point of making him panic. He even couldn't help but have some forbidden hopes during his agony of being captivated. He wanted to walk out of the unknown corners together with Vegas, he wanted to mend the fragments of their mutually broken souls, he wanted those snowflakes and auroras to truly appear before their eyes.

He buried this expectation deep beneath his own persuasions, thinking that he didn't care about what he would suffer for it. However, the reality proved that the "us" he imagined was an unrealistic proposition, and he couldn't rid himself of the identity of being a "pet".

In fact, Pete had always been used to underestimating his own importance in others' life, yet he unexpectedly fell into the hands of the young master of the minor family who had captured him.

It's quite absurd.

"Go ahead, kill me!" He couldn't maintain his composure any longer, roaring out the struggles and grievances that had accumulated in the depths of his heart.

"Do you want to die?!" Bloodshot veins filled Vegas' eyes, and his indefinable rage reached its peak. He made up his mind and took out the dagger he always carried with him from his pocket.

When emotions reach their climax, people tend to ignore the wounds on their own bodies and exert all their efforts to rip each other apart.

Vegas didn't realise that his uncontrolled words had already pierced Pete. Vegas, whose life had always been shrouded in shadows, and who had never experienced any smooth or fortunate sequels in his life. He was doomed to misfortune. Just like the flipped plate of curry rice, all expectations and joy were destined to be shattered, and there was no love that would truly stay for him.

Sure enough, Pete was going to leave him too.

How ruthless, he inexplicably pulled him in, only to push him off the cliff again.

When the back of the knife pressed against Pete's neck, Vegas just wanted to teach him a lesson. He couldn't let himself really hurt Pete's body. But this self-righteous pity was too arrogant, unable to stop the fact that he was tearing apart Pete's will to survive.

"Kill me, Vegas." Pete's tear-stained face suddenly calmed down, squeezing out a smile that he couldn’t even lift with his mouth.

Vegas had seen Pete cry twice before. One was when he threatened his grandmother, and the other was when he comforted him after losing the little hedgehog.

There were many more times when he should have shed tears during the abuses inflicted on him in the past.

This was the first time he had seen Pete cry for himself, dull and full of despair, and nothing like himself.

His eyes should have been bright, staring fiercely, wide open, or sneaking glances with a smile, and if you peeked at his ears, they would’ve been red.

Why are they so broken and bleak?

Vegas grabbed Pete's shoulder, but it felt like he didn't catch anything, he felt like he watched him drift further and further away from him.

In reality, He was pinned against the wall, tied up in the room, with nowhere to hide.

In fact, he had always thought that Pete was invincible, after all, no amount of torture could erase the determination in his eyes. Vegas naively relied on the terrifyingly strong nature of Pete, but he never had thought... that love was a dangerous poison, capable of melting all defences of the soul.

Pete melted away Vegas' vicious shell, he glimpsed the soft child seeking for help, and thus shook his own determination to face death. Originally, no punishment against him could truly make him afraid, but when it's mixed with tenderness, it was quite the opposite.

Because he had also melted Pete.

How could he deserve Pete's care or... love?

"No sense of self, no feeling, nothing. I can't accept myself anymore..." Pete's vision gradually blurred, unable to clearly see Vegas' expression. The breakdown of his spirit was true submission, revealing these weaknesses to the enemy, marked his defeat.

The situation spiralled out of control once again, blood trickling from Pete's hand grasping the blade, and Vegas finally snapped out of his shock, raising his hands in disarray and signalling surrender to his captive.

"I'm sorry, Pete, I'm sorry..." Vegas' trembling voice was tinged with tears, his habitual expression of innocence still performed perfectly, difficult to distinguish between truth and deception.

Pete watched Vegas' panicked expression, astonished that he could still think about these trivial things in a situation like this. He even noticed the long scar overlapping the wrinkles on Vegas' furrowed brow, pitying what he had been through, poor thing.

He cried weakly, his palm was in pain, extreme sorrow overruling his mind, too rushed to ponder why there was blood in his palm instead of his neck.

Put an end to all this, they shouldn't linger with each other anymore, kill the head bodyguard of the main family who should have been a corpse long ago here.

The extra ten days of his life were like a dramatic parallel world, but fortunately, there was no evidence to his death, no one would know about his wavering before his death, his legacy would still be pure loyalty, without the inexplicable love.

"Don't hurt yourself, I will do anyth..." Vegas was already out of breath from remorse, he blurted out his words without consideration, only wanting to make the biggest compromise.

As the textbook says, Vegas is very sensitive. He is an expert in mental manipulation, extremely adept at sensing others' emotions and exploiting them. But he lacks empathy, and only seeks profit, these emotions are just manipulation tactics for him. At this moment, he finally perceived Pete's immense despair, partly due to Pete's habitual repression of his own feelings, and partly due to his own deliberate or unintentional negligence - he wanted to seek peace in Pete, so he had to ignore Pete's uneasiness.

However, illusions can only be illusions, and the longer you indulge, the deeper the pain when you break free. But he didn't expect the consequences to be so violent and rapid.

The heavy weight of fate, step by step, trampled on people like stepping on ants, watching them die miserably before even starting to escape.

Yes, as always, whatever Vegas wanted to keep, fate would take.

The words were interrupted by gunfire. His tongue froze there, staring blankly as Pete suddenly had several blood holes in his chest.

"Bang, bang, bang."

Precise, continuous, and ruthless.

"Useless, idiotic, coward." Gun stood coldly at the door, his figure blocking out the sunlight behind him, casting a long shadow over Vegas' stunned face.

"You don't deserve to be my son."

He holstered his gun, snorted coldly, and turned and left without hesitation.

What happened? What's the situation now? What's going on?

Vegas suddenly felt so confused, the things in front of him seemed to be magnified and diminished, as if they were a hundred metres away. What should he do now? Pete was dying, Pete was killed by his father, what should he do now?

Should he rush over with a knife and stab his father hard? Should he let out a desperate scream, call out his father's name directly, curse him as a damn bastard? What should he do, he's leaving out the door, he's beginning to disappear...

He couldn't do anything, he was just as weak and incompetent as his father said.

Vegas opened his mouth but couldn't utter a word, instinctively making small animal-like sobs, his pupils trembling violently, not daring to turn his head.

The continued intense and excessive emotional exhaustion far exceeded the capacity of his brain. Time stretched infinitely, he was terrified, but had to forcibly control the muscles in his neck to look at Pete.

His poor Pete couldn't support himself upright and began slowly sliding down the wall, falling powerless on the floor. The handcuffs and chains clattered to the ground, making a series of clinking sounds. The blood flowing from his chest stained the white vest he had just put on today, and he still clearly remembered the surprised, wide-eyed look Pete gave him when he handed him the clothes in the morning, clear and lively, shiny, like a little deer. He was so cute.

How did it end up like this now?

Pete struggled to breathe with his last strength, but his tear-stained face finally began to gradually calm down.

The sharp pain in his head felt like it was about to split open. Vegas suddenly collapsed in front of Pete, his knees hitting the ground heavily, but he didn't feel it at all. His experience with weapon usage was very rich, three shots in the left chest, almost immediately fatal injuries, even if he was at the entrance of a hospital, it would be difficult to save him, never mind on this isolated small island.

Twice, he was powerless each time.

Perhaps these were the last few minutes of his body still warm.

His mouth was open but he couldn't say a word. Vegas desperately shook his head, his trembling hands reached out to touch Pete's face. It was clear he had already decided not to kill him, and he couldn't bear to hurt him again. Clearly, he had secretly promised he would take him away and travel the world together. Clearly, he played the guitar for him last night, wondering if he really liked him. Clearly, the wounds were almost healed, the scar-removing ointment was bought long ago, everything was foolproof.

How did it end up like this now?

Pete, he was too warm, whenever Vegas saw him, it was like seeing a little sun in the gloomy darkness, shining brightly but not annoying, he kept staring at him, loved him to death.

Vegas, for more than twenty years, didn't know why he was alive, couldn't see his fingers when he stretched out his hand, and it was pitch black all around. The goals his father gave him were like torches that only existed outside the world. In fact, no matter how hard he tried to strive for them, he couldn't use this elusive flame to illuminate himself.

Only Pete, after a long absence, broke a few cracks in the gloom and leaked a little daylight to him.

He selfishly dragged the little sun into his own dark world, trying to find some answers, feeling like he was almost there.

But his sun seemed to be extinguishing.

Pete could hardly keep his eyes open, his blurry tear-filled eyes saw Vegas seemingly also in tears, his trembling lips looking ridiculous, completely different from the usual composed young master of the family. He tried to squint to see, but couldn't, so he gave up, but his heart strangely felt relieved.

Perhaps this ending was the most fitting, forever avoiding all obstacles and pain.

He had always been meticulous, arranging everything properly, including his own death. He hoped his grandmother and the young master would be sad for a while and then continue their lives well, it's only that…Vegas… had to return to his darkness.

Perhaps it was the surge before death, Pete felt clear-headed for the first time in a long while. Thinking back, it was only the back of the knife against his neck, and Vegas was just bluffing.

He smiled gently, his whole face seemed to be surrounded by a faint light, so gentle that it seemed compassionate.

"It doesn’t hurt." Pete said laboriously, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he coughed up a mouthful of blood.

It doesn’t hurt? How could it not hurt? Vegas helplessly tried to cover the blood hole in his chest with his hand, but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stop the loss of the red stream of life.

Pete eased up, weakly lifting his injured hand, which Vegas grabbed by the wrist, gently stroking his hair.

"Vegas..."

"I'm here, Pete, I'm here."

His thoughts gradually blurred, and the light in his eyes dimmed. Pete lowered his hand, brushing across Vegas' tear-stained cheek.

Oh come on, just let him sleep peacefully.

The corners of his mouth slightly curved up, he moved his lips, emitting a faint last breath.

"Don't cry."

Vegas couldn't control himself anymore, disregarding Pete's blood-stained body, he carefully and vigorously hugged his precious treasure. His throat finally regained its function, roaring out his broken name.

Pete moved his lips again, but couldn't even make a sound, so he forced a smile again.

"Pete? Pete?" Vegas still shouted, feeling like his heart was being ripped out.

Pete's mouth lost control of its muscles, slowly drooping down, down, until finally returning to the calm.

He didn't need to force himself to smile anymore.

Vegas was stunned by how suddenly quiet the world became, his mouth gradually closed, becoming a horizontal line.

He was so, so tired. What had he been foolishly clinging onto all this time?

Everything he had was given to him by his incompetent father, especially the pain.

It’s so agonising.

Colours and shadows melted away, leaving only pure white before his eyes. All the intense emotions were drawn away with Pete's departure, leaving only an empty shell weighed down by overwhelming exhaustion. Vegas couldn't support himself anymore, collapsing on top of Pete and losing consciousness.

Two figures, one black and one white, collapsed against the narrow, dark wall, embracing each other, lost and silent, like a pair of lovers who sacrificed themselves with each other.

Vegas and Pete were killed together.

0.

Vegas tore off the cover of the notebook, which only had the word "Continued" written on it.
Macau said this wouldn't work, what if someone saw it and thought it was a novel?

“I’m not sure if both of you could be remembered this way, but it’s safer not to let people know it was made up.”

"How is it made up? It's clearly the experiences of me and Pete." Vegas argued, but he obediently tore off the cover, then placed the notebook solemnly in front of the photo of him and Pete.

"Alright, alright, can we go now? You've been hanging around in my partner's room for a week, there's really nothing else to rummage through." Macau stood by with folded arms, patiently waiting as Vegas adjusted things repeatedly.

Vegas glanced sideways and casually muttered to himself, "Are you sure there's nothing else, Pete? You swear there's no secret compartments or traps in your room?"

Macau patiently waited as usual until his brother finally waved his hand.
"Let's go, to the safe house."

End of Part One: Mirror Reflections
——————————————
Part Two: lifeless objects (Begins)

1.

Cutting ties with his father wasn't as difficult as Vegas had imagined.

Pete was right; it depended on him.

Blaming fate for everything that went wrong was simply an excuse. In reality, people's choices were often limited by their current experiences and circumstances. Many simple truths sounded cliché until one experienced significant pain and regret.

Opening his eyes again, Vegas found himself staring at the same white ceiling. His limbs were bound to the hospital bed with leather straps, and they felt stiff and sore, as if they didn't belong to him.

After the farcical showdown between father and son, Vegas’ father, now called Gun, confined Vegas in a mental hospital to be closely monitored. It took Macau two days of pleading before he was allowed to be his brother's companion.

"Phi, you're awake..." Macau's eyes were red from exhaustion as he spoke with a weary voice.

"I'm fine, Macau." Vegas said softly, his icy gaze fixed on the door.

This room was under constant surveillance 24 hours a day. Gun spared no expense in ensuring that his rebellious son, who held too many important secrets, had no opportunity to disrupt his plans.

Unable to control him, Gun coldly abandoned him, claiming that not killing him already was a display of familial mercy.

Gun's cunning selfishness was even more disappointing than Vegas had anticipated.

The caretaker who entered was a new face, and temporarily loosened the restraints to allow Vegas to use the bathroom and eat. Vegas watched his gestures quietly, his expression unreadable.

The red marks left on his skin from the restraints reminded him of Pete's more severe injuries. The unbearable pain he endured was too tormenting. If it was Vegas, it’d be impossible for him to show his captor any good impression at all.

Vegas glanced discreetly at his side, revealing a faint smile that was barely noticeable.

As his feet touched the ground, his body swayed, and he stumbled. Macau immediately pushed aside the caregiver to support Vegas, slowly leading him towards the bathroom.

The caregiver attempted to intervene but stood dutifully at the door, imposing and vigilant, fulfilling his surveillance duties.

"Macau." Vegas extended his hand, asking for his brother's support. When Macau grasped his hand, he felt the hard metal of something concealed in his palm, causing him to momentarily startle.

Vegas pulled his brother closer, whispering rapidly, "Listen to me, in two days, go back to school. Gun is still in the planning stage, he needs to maintain his persona in front of others and won't dare to refuse you. Can you give this to your chemistry teacher? Can you handle the job?"

Macau was taken aback but instinctively glanced at the caregiver by the door, who remained oblivious. Then it dawned on him.

"I understand, Phi. Don't worry." He assured Vegas solemnly.

Gun kept a close watch on Vegas because he knew how capable his son was, likely revising their attack plans against the main family. However, his good son had managed to keep something from him. It was meant to be a surprise, and now… it certainly still was.

Once again, Vegas turned his head towards the adjacent wall, a smile creeping onto his lips as he lowered his gaze, concealing the hatred and madness within.

2.

The main and minor families’ war came to an end with the death of the head of the minor family, Gun.

The complicated past and countless misdeeds, whether real or fabricated, could be easily buried with the death of an individual.

When Vegas heard this news, he had just flushed the softened anti-psychotics down the drain. Gun publicly announced that Vegas had schizophrenia, hoping to make him take medication and become dull-witted, but it turned out to be a blessing in disguise.

He did indeed develop schizophrenia, because he often saw Pete appearing beside him. Pete's figure was distorted, with a cute mushroom head and blurry facial features, but most importantly, his eyes were bright and would curve into a smile.

So he couldn't take the medication. He was afraid that if he did, Pete would gradually disappear.

"Pete, he's dead." Vegas was finally allowed into a regular single-patient room, where he could talk to Pete freely.

Pete simply curved his eyes as usual.

For his past self, for the deceased Pete, for the imagined good father, Vegas let himself shed a silent tear.

Gun killed his own son and was killed by his own brother. Their family, plagued by such sins, was cursed to have no peace in life or death.

Schizophrenia was not an easy condition to live with. Apart from seeing Pete, Vegas experienced depressive moods, paranoid delusions, panic attacks, and a disintegration of reality. Often, it would rob Vegas of his autonomy and perception of the real world.

He would suddenly sink into the depths of the ocean, forgetting how to breathe. In the time it took for Macau to go to the bathroom, he would find his brother gripping his neck tightly, face turning red. He would become alert, looking around and pointing at the empty space, claiming there were cameras and people he had tortured to death.

Only when Pete appeared could his world quiet down for a while, which further convinced him that it was Pete's spirit protecting him.

After pretending to be normal for a week and fabricating his self-assessment form without a single mistake, the doctor let Vegas out and asked Macau privately, "Has he been talking to the air recently?"

Macau's palms were sweating, tightly gripping the corner of his shirt.

"Not anymore."

3.

The minor family suffered a devastating defeat in the major battle, and both young masters were afflicted with mental illness. The main family naturally "reclaimed" their family property. Thanks to the USB drive, the main family hypocritically promised Vegas and Macau membership in the family, even inviting them to settle in the main family's residence.

Vegas rejected this superficial courtesy outright; he only had one purpose in visiting the main family.

"P’Tankhun," Vegas politely greeted Tankhun, who was blocking the door of the dormitory where Pete had stayed.

"Fuck off, Vegas," Tankhun said calmly, his eyes slightly red. "You're not worthy to see him."

"Phi," Vegas showed no signs of anger, just stubbornly standing there and calling out his name again.

He felt he had let Pete down. There was no reason to refute any accusations against him; he acknowledged his sins.

"I haven't even seen his ashes..." Tankhun's clenched fist trembled as tears streamed down his face. "My little Pete... Forgotten by all of us in a hellbound place. Even the devil who imprisoned him fell in love with him..."

Tankhun had been giving Kinn and Porsche the cold treatment for a month over this matter. They all felt guilty. Porsche even locked himself in the dormitory they had shared for a whole week.

But the dead cannot be brought back to life; that's one of the most basic rules of nature.

Tankhun pushed open the door behind him, revealing the empty interior. He smiled triumphantly at one of the main culprits. "Done looking? Then get out. There's nothing here for you."

Vegas stood dumbfounded at the door for a few seconds before suddenly chuckling.

"What the hell are you laughing at?!" Tankhun exploded in anger, raising his hand to strike, but was held back by the gloomy-looking Arm and Pol.

Shaking his head, Vegas nodded toward the corner of the room. "Pete said he used to exercise there after showering without wearing pants. He was always caught by people who didn't knock."

The two bodyguards turned pale, while Tankhun remained unafraid, his expression complex.

"Vegas, if you've become like this because of Pete... then endure the torment of being alive," he said coldly.

See, who said his big brother was stupid? He was clearly so intelligent and ruthless, knowing exactly how to make someone suffer the most.

But he would never argue with his big brother again because, on the day Pete died, his big brother had just held a funeral for Pete at home. That way, Pete's soul had a place to go, no longer trapped on that island that caused him so much harm.

"Phi, thank you. Please always remember him," Vegas turned and bowed deeply to Tankhun.

Ignoring him, Tankhun turned away, tears streaming down his face, the hem of his coat hitting Vegas's face hard as he walked away.

He paused for a moment, his voice trembling.

"And... Pete's grandmother wasn't in good health to begin with. I heard that she... passed away after hearing about it too."

After Tankhun walked away, Vegas remained kneeling on the ground, still maintaining his deep bow. The bodyguard with glasses returned, hesitating as he looked at the distraught former heir of the minor family.

After a moment, he reluctantly opened his palm toward Vegas.

"You take it. It's Pete's relic."

With trembling hands, Vegas accepted it.

It was a well-preserved badge, the badge of honour of the head bodyguard of the main family.

The main family emblem, which he had always loathed, was now cherished and guarded against his chest, closest to his heart.

No one did better than Pete.

"No legacy is so rich as honesty."

4.

Vegas took Macau around the world to relax, gathering the landscapes Pete wanted to see. However, at the same time, because he refused treatment, his condition worsened. He began to lose self-awareness more frequently, often waking up to see Macau's worried face.

His episodes of losing consciousness went from five minutes at the beginning to ten hours most recently, fear and hallucinations entangled him. He started having trouble sleeping day and night, always returning to that dimly lit room whenever he closed his eyes.

Vegas was still unwilling to seek treatment deep down because the visual hallucinations of Pete had become clearer and more vivid. Occasionally, Pete would talk to him, just like when they were in the safe house.

"Phi, do you really believe that's p’Pete’s soul?" Macau asked him earnestly, with hands behind his back.

Vegas subconsciously looked to the side again, his gaze becoming nostalgic and sorrowful.

"Macau, I have no choice."

Macau nodded, not mentioning for his brother to seek treatment again.

Until one night, Vegas caught Macau self-harming with a small knife. There were layers upon layers of scars on his arms, both old and new, a heartbreaking sight.

"Phi... I can't help it, I can't control it. This is the only way I can feel a little better..." Macau finally burst into tears in his brother's arms. "I don't have a mom, dad treats me like I'm invisible, and my brother who treats me well is so severely ill... Phi, I really can't hold on much longer, but I really want to take care of you..."

Yes, Macau's depression had been recurring for many years. He was the one most easily overlooked, carrying the title of a dandy young master, never being expected upon and not bothering to compete for attention.

"It's my negligence. Please live well, okay? I will seek treatment soon, and we'll go back home. Phi will seek treatment soon." Vegas held his brother tightly, guiltily patting his back.

The darkness was too deep, too thick to disperse or illuminate.

Though his past had its share of unpleasantness, it didn't weigh on him like it did now, pressing down like a mountain, leaving no path wherever he went, stumbling through life half-pushed and half-drifting.

When Pete dropped out and went to the underground boxing ring, perhaps he experienced a similar sense of confusion.

I miss him.

I miss him.

Vegas began trying to pretend to be normal again, but how could that be possible?

They were like two cups cracked all over, ready to shatter with the slightest movement.

5.

The old house in Chumpon was nestled among many identical houses, it was inconspicuous. There was no shortage of abandoned houses, and this was just one of the ordinary ones.

Upon entering, one would find an integrated living room and kitchen, with a variety of pots and pans displayed on the countertops and walls, covered in a thick layer of dust.

Pete had said his grandmother was a great cook and often sent him meals she had made herself. At that time, Vegas had secretly wondered whether there would be a chance to learn from his grandmother in the future, to capture the heart of this food-loving little bodyguard.

That seemed to be his first intention to learn cooking.

The old TV that used to play documentaries couldn't be turned on anymore. Pete must have sat eagerly in the position Vegas was in now, waiting for it to work.

In Grandma's room hung a portrait of Grandpa, who also had a smiling face, much like Pete.

They must have been youthful and beautiful, finally becoming a couple, supporting each other through the hardships of life, and then one turning black and white while the other lived on in memories.

Those days left behind in the world, whether long or short in torment — perhaps every day felt long and repetitive, memories chewed over and over again but unable to squeeze out nourishment for the soul. Perhaps every day was fleeting, memories attempted to be grasped always slipping away from the palm.

Why should people's lives be summarised in such concise words?

The portrait of Grandma was made by a neighbour. Vegas ordered two more frames, hanging them together with Grandpa's in their room.

He also made portraits of himself and Pete, placing them on Pete's desk, which had been chewed by insects, alongside the sequel he had written for themselves.

Pete's room was a small attic with a slanted skylight from which one could see the moon. The narrow single bed was against the wall, its four rusty iron legs showing signs of age. The desk might have been a good purchase Grandma made when she was young, but now it had become an antique eaten away by insects, a testament to the passage of time.

A stack of high school textbooks still neatly lined the desk, seemingly waiting to be read. A bundle of papers was thoughtfully wrapped and bound in moisture-resistant parchment paper, it had escaped god knows how many years of rain. The handwriting was sometimes elegant and sometimes messy, but still legible.

As he had said, his grades were good.

In the corner of the room were several bundles of boxing bandages, some used and some unwrapped. The ones stained with sweat were all yellowed. Vegas picked one up and wrapped it around his joints.

The wardrobe contained only a few boxing vests, worn many times and faded from washing.

This was where little Pete, who was not as strong as he appeared, grew up.

Bullets fly so fast, in an instant they can take away a person's life, take away decades of unyielding bravery, take away the little sun emerging from the dark depths, take away the lively and suffering soul of another person in the world.

Leaving behind only lifeless objects untouched by anyone.

6.

On the anniversary of Pete's death, Vegas and Macau arrived at the safe house. They had agreed that after leaving, they would go to the hospital for treatment.

From the outside, the safe house looked the same as before. The scenery was lifeless, bystanders in their own right, always embedded with meaning given by people during certain periods of time, serving as a background etched into memory. But once the relevant people were gone, no one remembered to recall these objects, and the meaning bestowed upon them ceased to exist.

As Vegas walked towards the door, his steps became increasingly heavy. He was the only relevant person left here.

Walking along the long bridge, he arrived at the pavilion by the pier, where he had waited to ambush Pete and electrocuted him when he tried to escape, almost causing him to get infected and die from a high fever.

The magnolia tree in the yard was still lush, and there used to be a small mound of earth under it, the grave of his last hedgehog. That night, Pete's return had truly made him understand the meaning of redemption.

It was all too familiar, these short ten or more days lasted his half-dead self for all these years. As he looked around, his vision started to blur. He hadn't shed tears in a long time, but he saw Pete again, bending down to pick a camellia flower and tucking it into his hair. He’s so beautiful.

Vegas had worried about how Pete's body would be handled. His handcuffs hadn't even been removed. Would the bodyguards who were responsible for cleaning up just cut off his hands? Would they set the house on fire? Would they hastily throw him into the lake, leaving him unrecognisable? Just thinking about these possibilities drove him almost mad.

Long time later, Nok, a bodyguard who had switched sides but was brought back by the main family, told him that they found the key in their own pockets and didn't cut off Pete's hands. Gun wanted them to throw Pete into the lake, but out of the friendship they had once shared, Nok secretly cremated Pete and scattered his ashes bit by bit into the wind. He was finally free.

Vegas breathed a sigh of relief with tears streaming down his face. What a good thing to hear. He hoped Pete would become a free spirit, going wherever he wanted, no longer bound by anyone who "needed" him.

He continued walking, took a deep breath, and pushed open the door. The curry rice that had been knocked over that day had been cleaned up as a matter of course. The furniture had been cleaned in advance. The kitchen counter had new palm sugar and bird's eye chilli placed on it, perhaps because someone saw the original arrangement. Vegas suddenly felt his throat being choked, unable to catch his breath.

After the issue with Pete's body was resolved, he had new regrets, such as Pete never getting to eat the curry rice he had cooked with his own hands, not even knowing that he had made it for him.

He apologised, but Pete didn't listen, and probably didn't think he was really apologising.

Most regretfully of all, he had never openly said "I love you".

What was he confused and stubborn about? He had loved him deeply for a long time already. The guitar in the corner of the room had been smashed into two pieces, like a mockery.

Two equally broken souls had once explored and comforted each other, yet the belated clarity of love would now mercilessly torment the person stuck within the realm of the living.

He almost stumbled into the door of the small cabin, the colourful lights no longer shining, instead they were replaced with an ordinary incandescent lamp. The windowless room was still slightly colder than outside. Vegas couldn't feel the change in temperature, he only felt his heart trembling, almost jumping out of his throat and chest.

White light began to appear before his eyes, the familiar panic attack caused cold sweat to form on his forehead. He awkwardly knelt down in front of the bed, trying to calm his heartbeat and breath, groping around on the floor and walls.

The cleanup crew hadn't done a thorough job, leaving a few dark bloodstains on the dark walls. That was Pete's blood. Unconsciously uttering Pete's name, Vegas' fingers caressed those traces as if they were the most precious treasures, tears dripping onto the floor.

"Phi, you should rest." Macau, who had been silently standing by, couldn't bear to watch any longer. He helped his exhausted brother lie down on the bed.

The feeling of detachment from reality surged again, and it seemed as if he was truly resting his head on Pete's arm, spending the night in tenderness; they were extremely compatible for each other, completing the connection of destiny without knowing. He was deeply fascinated by this angel in distress, and only after tying him down, did he barely gain some sense of security. He exclaimed from the bottom of his heart, "Do you know how sexy you are?"

Pete probably wasn't happy at that time, but still cutely responded, "Hmm."

When people are about to die, they could actually sense it coming. The world in their eyes becomes even gentler, seeing the shallow and colourful radiance of all living beings.

Vegas stood up.

One morning, Macau found his brother quietly devoid of life. He sat on the floor by the bed, with a book from the bed as a pillow, the pages were a bit damp.

The page was about a personality test for pet owners, stating that those who raised hedgehogs were sensitive, someone underlined it with their fingernail. Of course, there were no pens or pencils in the small dark room, so that was Pete's annotation after the book was kicked over, emphasised with anger.

Macau stuffed Pete's badge into Vegas' palm, set a huge fire, burned down the house, and then scattered his brother's ashes bit by bit into the wind.

Soon, he also disappeared from the world, without a trace, like a small piece of ice melting in the ocean.

The burned area left behind a large swath of charred marks, which were covered with grass the following year. Now, the safe house finally became like all the other places where relevant people were lost, turning into a pile of meaningless lifeless objects.

All the bloodshed and wounds are left bare, with no one to know of their once obscure yet radiant love. In that hidden place, there once existed deep shocks and palpitations, resonating with the two similar souls, grieving yet warming. They emitted light and heat, only to eventually dissipate into the fiery air and wind, just like their owners.

This is an inevitable cycle, the duty of the river of time, perhaps leaving behind a lament in someone's heart at a fleeting moment.

In the courtyard, the magnolia tree was still blooming, and the small mound of earth under it had long since returned to its original state. The wind sent an invitation, and a flower — perhaps once a hedgehog, just like being held by those two hands that night, gently fell there, mourning the bones of the hedgehog beneath it, and also mourning the pair of lovers who died together.

This was the eternal life of lifeless objects.

Epilogue.

For the market stall owners doing small business, their daily lives were pretty much the same.

They would wake up early, set up their stalls, add charcoal, and skillfully lay out the sweet pork that had been marinated on the hot grill. After going through this fixed routine, the owner would wipe away his sweat and leisurely look around.

This time, he actually discovered something new.

Opposite the sweet pork stall was a small shrine that had been there for years, ever since he came five years ago. A statue of Buddha and the memorial tablet of an unknown person stood silently in the perpetually bustling market. Surprisingly, there was no sense of discordance, and occasionally, it was quite calming to look at.

Initially, the owner had been curious and asked around, but no one knew anything about it, so he let it go.

But today, the dusty memorial altar had been carefully cleaned, and two new ones had been added next to it.

"What's up with that memorial altar?" The owner lightly kicked a young man lounging behind a clothes stall, handing over the first skewer of shiny roasted sweet pork of the day.

The young man thanked him, blew on the hot skewer, he couldn't hold back his laughter, and said, "Early this morning, a strange person wearing colourful clothes came with a few bodyguards. Oh, he was holding onto the memorial altar and crying like it was the end of the world, while also pointing at another one and cursing loudly. Haha, you should've seen the scene! He looked like a crazy chicken..."

"They still put them both together, didn't they? Sounds like his little sister got tricked into running away with a man and then they died together in the name of love." The owner, also a drama lover, gave a fair critique, lowered his head to move the first batch of cooked meat to the side with less charcoal, then stood up and went to see what was going on.

The two memorial altars were made of exquisite rosewood, very fine, and obviously cost a lot of money. That crazy chicken young mister seemed to be snarky but soft-hearted, he was willing to spend money.

"Pete? Who's that..." The boss murmured the name on the memorial altar, followed by the young man of the clothes stall shaking his head behind him.

"OH! Vegas! This belongs to Khun Vegas!" The young man suddenly shouted, then realised not only he looked bad but also disturbed the peace of the souls of the altars, he quickly covered his mouth.

"So it's Khun Vegas'... He has always taken care of us ordinary folks. How could someone so young..." The owner sighed, shaking his head, "Ah, and the minor family behind him, they've all been replaced now." The owner sighed lightly, and turned around, "I miss that group of floral shirts people, now they are all wearing black suits."

"Be careful what you say." The young man pretended to be all knowing and lit a cigarette, patting the owner's shoulder, "Things change... and perhaps maybe you and I won't have any business tomorrow."

"You jinx, get lost!" The owner pretended to be angry, kicking him again. He looked at the shrine opposite with a melancholy feeling in his heart, he muttered to himself, "Things change... sounds so simple."

A black uniformed group of men entered the street corner with orderly footsteps, and the owner suddenly came to his senses, he quickly filled up the grill, energetically shouting amidst the fragrant aroma of charcoal grilling, "Come and take a look! Freshly roasted sweet pork skewers!"

THE END