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Porsche wishes him good morning with a feathery kiss. He laughs at Kinn’s scrunched face, displeased at being awakened and heads to the bathroom. Kinn dreads getting out, but he eventually gets up to follow. The bathroom is empty when he makes it there.
He takes his breakfast with mindless chatter around him, adds a couple things here and there, but mostly remains quiet. It's a routine after that to get ready for another day, from his chosen clothes to the careful styling of his hair, to the carefully selected jewellery.
During his meeting, Porsche stands on the right side, within his eyesight, winking at him every now and then, or pulling a face when nobody's looking. Kinn has long since stopped trying to reign him in, to reprimand him for his behaviour. His lips curve slightly upwards fondly, and the people around the table look at him unsettled.
The day pretty much follows the same pattern, Porsche following him around the hallways, always with a smile, always with something to say. He humours him away from people's eyes. It's not as if it really matters, though, everyone largely ignores Porsche, everyone seemingly done with expressing their contempt, and Kinn would say something about that, but Porsche wouldn't like it.
And that's really the problem with Porsche, he is too peaceful for his own good. Never does he look for approval, or recognition, or even respect. He lives his life free. Kinn has to admit he's somewhat jealous of him for it, yet there’s no room in his life, in his job, to follow his lover’s example. Appearance is everything, and approval, respect or fear is more.
Kinn never ponders it much. He rejoices in seeing Porsche happy, content with his role, glowing under his attention. The way his smile brings wrinkles around his eyes, the dimples that adorn his cheeks.
Lunch is served, but Porsche declares he isn't hungry, so it's just him who eats. Porsche seems to have lost his appetite quite a bit the past few days. He’s tried, really has, he always calls for two plates of food, in case Porsche’s appetite makes itself known at the sight of it, yet it never happens. if it goes on any longer, Kinn will have to start worrying. A part of him will always worry about the love of his life, no matter what, and Kinn wouldn't change it for the world.
Later that evening, a guard announces Khun’s arrival in his room. It lacks most of its usual flurry, as it has the past months. Kinn supposes it’s simply a phase; it has happened a few times, but Khun bounces back right after, back to his eccentric self. Even before he enters, Porsche places a light kiss into his hair and leaves to ‘give them some brotherly bonding chance’ as he puts it.
“Kinn. How are you?” It’s sort of a weird question, but Kinn answers anyway. He’s been asked weirder ones by Khun several times.
“I’m fine, Khun. How come you’re here?” Khun grimaces.
“How’s Porsche? Where is he?” The question wavers out of his lips, uncertain as his eyes flit around the room . Huh.
“He left us alone to talk, you know how he is, but he’s fine, maybe you can call him over for a movie, you haven’t done that in a while. Just not a horror movie, you know how he hates those. They really shake him up.” Fondness spills along his words, but Khun’s face takes on a pained expression, his hands digging into the fabric of his sleeves. He averts his eyes, and Kinn is not good at this. He can’t handle emotional responses, especially Khun’s. He’s been providing his brother with everything, but he just never managed to see Khun as something other than his strong older brother, someone who didn’t need him for comfort. Kinn feels small in the face of his brother’s anguish.
“This can’t go on, Kinn. Please snap out of it.” Khun’s voice comes out pained.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” It’s an honest answer, though he feels inexplicable rage slowly lighting up inside him. He can’t understand why he’s so angry, Khun didn’t offend him.
His brother makes a gut wrenching sound, more ripped out of him than spoken, and gets up.
“We’re all worried about you, Kinn. Me, Kim, dad. People are starting to believe you’ve gone crazy. They think you won’t be capable of your position in a while. You need to snap out of whatever this is. I know you love him, I know. We all liked him, but he’s not here anymore, Kinn. Porsche is gone, please face the reality.” By the end of his small rant, Khun’s dejected voice is a ringing in Kinn’s ears, along with the tears running down his brother’s face as he hurriedly makes his way out.
Cold starts at the tips of his fingers, making its way further up. Kinn shivers. Porsche is… He’s… Kinn calls out for him, his lover’s name echoing around the room, no answer. Kinn convinces his legs to move as he rushes from room to room, frantically opening doors, only to face empty, frozen places that lack the warmth he craves.
Kinn finds himself sat in the middle of the plush carpet, his back supported by the bed, dizziness making the ceiling seem unstable. Images flash behind his eyes, of blood, of a gun pointed at… And then a funeral, Chay crying. He tries to block them. Surely, if he doesn’t remember it, it isn’t true, and Porsche will walk through the door, calling him silly for this as he plants kisses all over his face.
But Porsche never appears in the doorway, and the thoughts (memories) don’t go away. Kinn’s hands dig into his hair, as if they can pull the offensive images out, though they’re unsuccessful as well. Kinn closes his eyes to avoid the tears gathering in them, and there’s just so much blood .
Porsche is not here. He hasn’t been for a while. Porsche is… He’s…
Kinn distantly remembers sobbing over his body, screaming at the people around him for help, begging for a chance, yet Porsche still had laid getting colder in his arms.
Porsche is gone.
Perhaps if Kinn lets himself go, surrenders to an exhausted slumber, Porsche will be here once he wakes up. If not, at least he’ll be there in his dreams, fitful as they may be.