Archive of Our Own ^beta

If my brother’s dead, I am not alive.

If I’m alive, my brother can’t be dead.

- Andrew Kozma, Song of the Insensible

"Macau," Vegas leans close to his little brother's ear and takes his hand in to his in the darkness of the car. He holds him too tightly but he is afraid that this is the last time he will ever get to do so.

"You shoot anyone who comes close to you. You hear me, anyone? Even from our side. Even father. “

Macau’s gun rests in the boy’s lap. A birthday gift from Vegas when they both were still much too young to even know about such things. Back then too, he had told him in hushed whispers; you shoot anyone who touches you. Even from our side. Even father.

The other has never used the gun. Vegas does not know whether it is because no one truly has touched his brother or because the boy is good to a fault. He hopes it’s the first one. He hopes his threats of violence and bloodshed have worked. He hopes the people fear his rage and revenge enough to steer clear of the younger boy. He hopes the people fear him more than their father – even if it’s only in this one thing.

“Don't follow father, no matter what he says. You don't follow him," he murmurs to his ear urgently, glancing at their father sitting on the front seat.

Macau swallows, squeezing Vegas’ hand back.

"You stay behind me. No matter what happens, you stay close. No, no matter what happens you listen to me. Promise me, Macau,” his voice is barely a whisper, too afraid of father hearing him. “No, don’t speak. Just nod if you understand."

Macau doesn't look at him, doesn’t move at all at first. Eventually though, after what feels like a forever, the other nods. Vegas sighs out of pure relief.

At that father glances at them through the rearview mirror. The man squints at them and Vegas slides a bit further in his seat, unwillingly letting go of Macau’s hand. He doesn’t want to give their father any reason to hold onto his younger son tighter than he is planning to.

Vegas turns to stare out of the car window. He can already see the Main Family building in the distance. The sight of it makes him feel physically ill.

"Listen Macau," he eventually dares to whisper once more when he is sure that their father is no longer paying any attention to them. "I will keep you safe. Have I ever not? You will survive this, Macau. I will make sure of that, no matter what. You will live."

He knows he sounds near hysterical, stumbling uncharacteristically over his words. And despite his promises, Vegas doesn’t know yet how he is going to keep his word. Not this time.

This is the first time father has every brought Macau along to a mission and it just has to be a suicide. He knows their plan is doomed to fail and that none of them are ever walking out of the Main Family building alive. Vegas is alright with that. He always knew he would die young. He made his peace with that a long time ago.

He just needs Macau to survive. He needs him to live. After all, he promised their mother that much when she was still alive. He would keep Macau safe – no matter what it takes, no matter what it costs. (To him, no price is too high to pay if it means his brother lives.)

The car comes to a sudden stop. He squeezes his little brother's hand once more and watches how the driver steps out of the vehicle. He follows how the man circles to the other side and how he open father's door for him.

As the man is getting out of the car and someone is already opening the door for Vegas, he looks Macau in the eyes.

"Don't worry. You will live," he promises as he gets out of the car and prays to all the gods he can name that it’s true.

He pretends that he doesn’t hear his little brother’s quiet plea of; what about you?

Vegas stops next to their father. His mind is filled with endless awful ways his little brother could possibly lose his life today. Every single one of them more gruesome than the last. He wants to throw up.

"Macau, come here," their father says and motions for the boy to stand on his other said.

The other hesitates and Vegas barely dares to shake his head as a no, fearing father will notice. He knows why the other is here. Father wants to make sure he does as he is told and Macau is the very thing keeping him in line. After all, in a fight there are always stray bullets. Who could ever know, whose gun ended his little brother's life?

Macau comes to stand next to Vegas. Good, he thinks, relieved beyond words. He wants to be the very thing between the two of them. He wants to make sure that the stray bullet does not come from their father himself. And even if the bullet does come, he wants to make sure it doesn’t hit its target.

“Khun Gun,” Chan greets them. “What are you doing here?”

Even with his years of experience, the other man manages only barely to conceal his surprise at seeing Macau with them. He looks at the boy for a long time and there is almost something sad in his gaze.

“My brother passed. I have come to pay my respects,” their father answers with a crooked smile on his lips.

“I have no orders to allow you go inside,” the guard answers, turning his attention back to the head of the Minor Family.

Vegas steps forward and says; “shut the hell up.”

He hopes the man understands the silent plea in his eyes. The desperation burning in him. Please, shut up. Stop talking. Do not anger father any further. Do not make it any worse. Chan meets his gaze, his eyes calculating.

“I advise you to turn around and go back home.”

Vegas wants to laugh. Or scream. Or cry. Or maybe do all three at the same time. He wants to shake the older man until he realizes that there is no going home. Not anymore. They are all going to die here. They are going to bleed all over the Main Family’s expensive floors in a way that they can never scrub them clean. They will have to tear the place apart to rid themselves of the bloodshed they are about to witness.

Chan, even though from the Main Family, is a reasonable man. Vegas knows that. He knows he would have kept Macau safe. He knows he could have trusted his little brother to the older man.

But Chan meets them and the end of his life at the Main Family building’s front steps.

Their father shoots him, rather unceremoniously, and after that all hell breaks loose. Macau startles visibly at the sound of gunshot and Vegas steps in front of him, like it’s his second nature, to shield him from the following rain of bullets.

He pushes one of his own guards forward. The man takes immediately four bullets to his chest and collapses to the ground. That’s long enough for him and Macau to take cover behind the car. His brother looks like he is about to start crying and he can’t fault him for that.

“Don’t think about it now,” Vegas says, looking his brother straight into the eyes. “You like video games. Pretend it’s all just a video game.”

Expect in this real-life video game the bullets kill and you have only got one life. If you die you can’t start again from the beginning. He doesn’t say that though, doesn’t want his brother thinking about the truth right now.

He curls Macau’s fingers tighter around his gun and pulls the safety off.

“Stay low,” he says as he hauls himself back to his feet and peers at the destruction over the hood of the car.

Chan is against all odds still standing and has taken down at least a dozen of their men. Dying man has nothing to lose, Vegas knows. For a split-second he thinks their gazes meet and the older man falters.

That’s when his father shoots him one more time, taking him down for good. Chan does not even attempt to get up again. The man lays there, on the ground, unmoving. His eyes are open and unseeing. Foolishly, Vegas thinks that maybe if it wasn’t for him the other would have seen the bullet coming.

“Vegas!” His father yells and throws him one of the bigger guns they brought along.

He catches the flying object easily and drops his hand gun. The metal feels cool against his fingertips, the weight of it familiar in his hands.

Vegas does not know where he finds the self-control to not shoot his father right there and then. It would be so easy, pulling the trigger. He yearns for it. But they are surrounded by men loyal to his father. He isn’t interested in testing how deep that loyalty runs, how many of them would turn their guns at him, at Macau.

He tries to not think about how much new blood he will have in his hands before the night ends. Before death comes and claims him as well.

In the end, it doesn’t even really matter. Vegas has always known that he is going to die as a very, very bad man with a lot of blood in his hands. What is some more?

They enter the building and Vegas is barely thinking about what kind of trap he is walking into. He is too busy coming up with ways to keep Macau safe and ending up disregarding every single one of them.

There is no love lost between him and his cousins. He does not trust Kinn. Has never trusted him as far as he can throw him but especially not with this. Not with his little brother’s life.

Bang. Bang. Bang. He can’t think because of the noise.

Kim must be elsewhere, somewhere far away from the ruin that is to befall his home. (The lucky one, the one that got away.)

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Vegas does not trust nor like Tankhun either but he knows the other has a soft spot for Macau. He would keep him safe. Problem is, the older is kept so very safe himself that Vegas has no chance of finding him in this bloodbath.

Bang. Bang.

He turns into a different direction from their father and pulls Macau along. He shoots one handed, without looking who he is about to hit and holds his little brother by the elbow, making sure he is at all times behind him.

Bang.

To hide would be the best option. But he would have no way of knowing who would stumble into Macau's hiding spot. He does not want to lay his brother's life in the hands of fate. His whole life has been a gamble with a losing hand. No. He is not about to make a bet on the other’s life with his rotten luck.

Bang.

The gunfire quiets down a bit, the biggest fight behind them for now. There is not much to hide behind in the empty hallway so Vegas pushes his brother against the wall and simply stands guard in front of him.

“Hia…” Macau says, his voice small.

“Let me think,” he murmurs, massaging his temples none too gently.

Vegas tries to visualize the building his mind, figure out the safest route out. But all the floors and corners blur into one another. He can’t make sense of any of it. He feels like crying once more.

His hands shake as he imagines the worst. If it really come to that, could he do it? Press the barrel of the gun to his little brother’s head and pull the trigger? If it meant that no one else could ever lay their hands on him?

No. Even with his eyes closed he sees his little brother, the only good thing he has ever had in his life. The only thing pure and untainted by the filthy world they live in. The very thing he swore to protect, to keep safe. How could he?

But deep down he knows. Yes. He would do it. It would ruin him, destroy his very being but he would do it. If it meant no one else could ever harm him, he would do it. If bringing him to the afterlife with his own bare hands was the only way to keep him safe, it’s not even really a question.

Not even hell could be worse than the life they have lived.

He opens his eyes and looks at Macau. He needs to see that the other is still there, right in front of him. As safe as possible. Alive.

Vegas has always known he would kill for his little brother, indiscriminately. He has killed for his little brother. But he is only now starting to realize how far he is willing to go for his sake. He thinks it should scare him.

(It doesn’t. For the longest time, the only thing he has truly feared is losing him.)

Then he remembers. The back stairwell that barely anyone ever uses. It leads straight to the basement and to the parking garage. From there, they have a way out. From there Macau has a way out.

“This way,” he says, taking his brothers hand.

They run.

They half run, half fall down the stairs and stumble through the door to the parking garage. Vegas, unable to stop the movement, falls to the ground and pulls Macau with him. He hits the back of his head painfully to the concrete and his brother, even though smaller, is enough weight to knock the air straight out of his lungs.

Vegas swears, gasping for air. He should be more careful. He isn’t alone, he can’t risk being reckless. Not when he is so close to getting Macau to safety.

But for once, his nerves are getting the better of him. He is like spring toy pulled to its limits. They are on enemy territory, there is no such thing as safety. And even those who are supposedly on his side could be the person tearing the world away from him, the person ending Macau’s life.

He doesn’t doubt even for a second that their father hasn’t ordered the both of them to be killed. They aren’t supposed to survive this. None of them are supposed to survive this.

He isn’t sure if they are even supposed to win this. He wouldn’t put it past their father if this was just his plan of going out in a blaze of glory. Not just him but all of them. The whole Minor Family.

Macau gets to his feet, offering his hand for Vegas. He takes it, still gasping for air to fill his bruised lungs. The world sways slightly under his feet and the florescent lights hurt his eyes. He blinks, trying to make sense of the scene in front of him.

There are men laying on the ground. Dead, or soon to be there. His men. He tries to not look at their faces, tries his best to not recognize them. He has no time to mourn them.

Belatedly, he takes notice of the movement in the corner of his eye. He is empty handed. His gun slipped from his grasp when he fell. Now it lays uselessly on the ground, just a few feet away from him.

The barrel of the gun presses to his temple and all he can think about is; so close. He was so close to getting Macau to safety.

Vegas has to bite his own tongue in order to stop himself from crying. Useless son, his father always says. And perhaps he was right all along. He can’t even do this one thing right. Can’t even keep his little brother safe.

“Do you know,” Kinn says, his tone almost conversational. “How long I have dreamed of this moment?”

He wants to ask if Kinn always knew it was going to end this way. Because Vegas knew. He always knew he would die for the Main Family one way or another. It’s almost poetic that he meets his end at the hands of the heir he was always supposed to be better than but never could be. It’s almost a relief.

Almost.

The thing is, Vegas isn’t ready to die just yet. No. He has unfinished business. A promise he must keep. He barely remembers their mother but he is too ashamed to face her in the afterlife if he cannot keep one measly promise he made to her all those years ago.

He is almost ready to beg his cousin. To promise him he will come back and kneel down in front of him, obedient like a dog, waiting for execution when Macau suddenly moves.

The boy has his arm raised, gun in his hand. Unlike mere moments ago, he is steady and deadly. A true Theerapanyakul to his core – not that the name has ever done any good for either of them. Vegas wants to laugh. People always forget, even he forgets at times. His little brother is crafted from the very same misery as he himself, raised by the same ruthless man.

Macau has his gun aimed straight to Porsche’s head.

Vegas can feel Kinn’s gun faltering against his temple. Porsche is frozen in his place, like a deer caught in the headlights. He is delighted to find that they are afraid. They should be.

“Put down your gun,” Macau says, his voice void of any emotion. “Or I will kill him.”

“Macau–,” Kinn says and Macau simply just fires.

Bang.

For a moment the parking garage is as silent as a grave. Porsche’s eyes are wide with shock as he raises his hand to his ear. It comes back bloody.

“I won’t miss the second time.”

And oh. His little brother is just like him. Vegas loves him more than life itself. He would burn the whole world to ground for him if he had to. Now he knows, the other would do the same for him.

And oh. How he wishes he wouldn’t. Let him be the devil with bloodied hands. Let him be the sacrificial lamb dying for the sake of the family.

Vegas’ mouth is full of his own blood and he wants to scream. He wants to shake Kinn and tell him to look. Does he not see how the very last good thing in this world is dirtying his hands? For his sake, for Vegas? He wants to shake Kinn and ask was it not like this for him too. Did he not stay up night after night, praying and praying and praying that his younger brother could stay kind and innocent?

(But then again, Kim crawled his way out of his mother’s womb screaming for blood and then spent his teenager years fighting his way to freedom. Kim got away.)

“Kinn,” Vegas finds his own voice. “Put down the gun.”

What he means is; please, put down the gun. Please, don’t turn my little brother into a killer. Because he will do it, he will kill Porsche if he has to and he won’t be able to live with himself if he does so. Because even if he is just like me, he is still good. He is still kind. He still cares.

“Okay,” Kinn finally says, raising both his hands in the air in a surrender.

That’s when the bomb goes off.

The bomb is far enough to not do any real harm but close enough for the blast to knock all of them off their feet. Vegas desperately grabs for Macau, trying to shield him from the worst of it. He presses his hands to the other’s ears despite the fact that the ringing in his own ears is splitting his head in two.

Macau is crying as he clutches his arm to his chest. He was closest to the explosion. Close enough, for his shirt sleeve to have caught on fire.

Even though undoubtedly painful, the burn seems to be only superficial. It won’t kill him; Vegas desperately thinks as he fights to get out of his own jacket. This won’t take his brother away from him.

“You are going to be okay,” he says, wiping the tears away from the other’s cheeks. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. It’s going to be okay.”

He gets the jacket off himself and helps Macau’s injured arm into the sleeve. It’s not the proper way to treat a burn but he doesn’t have much else. At least it will protect the raw skin from most of the dirt. At least it will hide the burnt flesh from his little brother’s eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay,” he murmurs, picking up Macau’s gun from the ground before hugging the younger boy to his chest.

“I thought he was going to kill you,” the other sobs against his shirt.

Vegas wants to say that Kinn wouldn’t have. That he wasn’t actually going to die. But they both know that would be a lie. Kinn would have done it. Kinn would have killed Vegas. It was what they both were raised to do; kill each other when the time comes. Macau saved his life.

“It’s okay,” he says again because he doesn’t know what else to say.

He doesn’t know how to make this better.

Kinn and Porsche, very smartly, have fled while he was distracted. He will allow it – for now. Let them have their miserable little lives just for a while longer. He will make them pay for it later, for hurting his little brother. He will make them all pay for it.

(Hell hath no fury like Vegas Theerapanyakul whose little brother has been hurt.)

He hears movement and before he even has time to think he has hugged Macau closer to his chest. He has his other arm out stretched, gun steady in his grasp and his finger hovers by the trigger. He is ready to shoot.

But he doesn’t.

No. Because he knows this person. He would know him anywhere, even in death, at the end of the world. And what is this, if not the end of his?

Vegas lovers his hand, letting the gun dangle uselessly from his fingertips.

"Pete," he says, almost breathless.

"What’s going–" Macau starts, clinging onto him like he did as a little boy.

"It's okay 'Cau," he promises.

It’s truly going to be okay. Because there is one person in this world who he can entrust his brother to. Someone who will keep him safe – when Vegas himself can’t.

Pete looks at them warily but he too, lowers his gun.

Vegas imagines that he must be quite a sight. He is kneeling on the dirty floor with crying Macau in his arms. He is covered in blood too but it’s not his. At least, he doesn’t think it’s his.

"Please, Pete," Vegas says. He has never been one to actually beg but he does so now. "Please, keep him safe. No, take him away from here, please. Pete, he is too young. He isn't supposed to be here. He isn't supposed to see any of this."

Unshed tears burn in the corners of his eyes and he bites onto the barely healed wound on his tongue. His mouth tastes like copper, like he has swallowed handful of coins. It makes him feel sick all over again.  

"I know I have no right to ask anything of you but please, Pete,” he can barely see the other, so blurred is his vision from the tears. “I need him to survive this. I need him to live. Please, take him away from here."

"No," Macau struggles in his arms. “Vegas, no. I’m not leaving.”  

He takes the younger boy by the shoulders and looks him straight into the eyes.

“You promised that you would listen to me.”

Macau stares him back. “You didn’t mean like this.”

And the other is right, of course he is. He didn’t mean like this. He meant that the other should listen to him and not father or any of his men. Listen to him and hide when told and run when told.

But at the same time, this is exactly what Vegas meant. Please, listen to me so that I can save your life.

“No, you are right. I didn’t,” he says, the tears finally falling down to his cheeks. “But regardless of that you will leave with Pete; he will keep you safe. He will take you somewhere far away from here and you are going to live."

"What about you Vegas?" Macau asks, his voice small.

He tries to smile and hugs his brother to his chest once more, in a vain attempt to hide his tears from the other. He buries his face in the other’s hair, breathing deep. Macau somehow always smells like cinnamon and cacao – like home.

That smell. The way his brother fits into his arms. The color of his eyes and the birth mark on his shoulder. His smile, his laugh. The red sneakers he got for him as a birthday gift and will now never be able to give to him. Desperately, he tries to commit it all to his memory.

He wants to remember the other just as he is. Still a young boy, always his little brother.

“I will see you later.”

The other doesn’t need to know Vegas expects later to be years from now on. When Macau is old and gray and has lived a full, happy life, like he was always meant to.

Vegas knows he is not going to make it out of here alive. But if his brother is alive, it's okay. He can die in peace. He will greet him once more – in another life.

"I love you 'Cau," he murmurs into the other's hair.

Then he steps away and it breaks his heart to do so. It tears him apart how the other tries to cling onto him. How he says Vegas’ name like it’s a prayer. Vegas. Vegas. Vegas.

(He hopes that in some other life they get to be brothers once more. Even if it was with the same atrocious family and monstrous father, he would still selfishly always choose it in a heartbeat over a lifetime without his little brother by his side.)

"Please, Pete..." he pleads.

The other steps closer, carefully taking Macau by the elbow.

And because the other is suddenly there, impossibly close, Vegas cups Pete’s face between his hands, so very gently. Takes precious seconds they do not have to caress his cheek, to commit his face to memory as well.

And then, as the other does not push him away, Vegas kisses him. Just once. Dying man's last wish, he thinks as he savors the kiss.

“I’m sorry,” he says but doesn’t know who the words are meant to.

"I will take him to–" Pete starts but Vegas presses a finger to his lips to silence him.

"It's better..." he starts, swallowing back a fresh wave of tears. "It's better that I don't know."

That way father can't find him. No one can. Macau can be free. And at least in this lifetime, his freedom will be the only thing he has left when the night is over.

"Be safe, Vegas," Pete whispers.  

Maybe it’s the words. Maybe it’s because he has already bared his soul for the other man. But he wants to be selfish – just for a moment longer. He wants to ask, no, beg, the other for one more thing. If I am really to die today, could it be you who kills me?

But he can’t. Not in front of Macau, his little brother. The other has to have hope that he will survive too, that they will truly see each other again or he won’t ever leave this parking garage behind without him.

(And after all, it would be a mercy he does not deserve.)

So, all Vegas does is nod and say; "go."

And they go. Macau doesn't fight Pete but he keeps looking over his shoulder. He hugs his injured arm to his chest like a wounded animal. He looks at Vegas with eyes full of tears until the two of them turn a corner and he can no longer see him.

Vegas watches him back – watches how the two halves of his heart leave him.

Vegas’ composure shatters the moment he no longer sees Macau and Pete. He sinks his teeth into the soft skin of his forearm to muffle the scream that leaves his whole body shaking.

It hurts. He wishes it hurt more. He wishes it was his skin burnt and raw, not Macau’s soft and delicate skin. Vegas would gladly burn for his brother. Why won’t the world let him?

It will a scar, he knows. A constant ugly reminder of this day and what happened to him, to his family. It should be Vegas, his skin disfigured – an outside to match his insides.

(He hopes it would have burnt away some of the pain and hurt their father has left on his skin.)

Vegas knows he needs to move. He is exposed from all directions and sooner or later someone else is going to stumble into the parking garage. There, he is nothing but an animal waiting to be slaughtered. Death must wait for him though, just a moment longer. He refuses to die here, surrounded by concrete and the memory of his little brother heading to safety.

But for a while, he just stands there, amidst all that death and breaths. He wills air in and out of his lungs, wills his legs to carry his weight.

Macau’s gun feels unfamiliar in his hand but he refuses to part with it. He is good at pretending and if he tries hard enough, he can almost forget it’s metal and not his little brother’s hand he is holding.

Then Vegas goes too.

He joins a fight he knows he is going to lose. His side of family is going to lose. It brings him some kind of sick satisfaction to know they are all going to die here, fighting side by side. He always thought he would die alone, unbeknownst to anyone. That one day he would just simply disappear, like people often do in this line of business, and Macau wouldn’t even have a body to bury.

Now, when all this is over, there will be funerals – for days on end. Even Theerapanyakul can’t hide something this big from the public eye. Kinn will spin out a story of a horrible accident and accept condolences for the family he lost.

Vegas is in peace with that.

Macau is going to live. And hopefully, so will Pete.

And then there is going to be a funeral for him, a gravestone with Vegas Theerapanyakul engraved to it. A kindness he feels like he doesn’t deserve. But at least then Macau will never have to wonder what happened to him, why he didn’t come back home to him.

The Main Family building has turned into a graveyard in the short time he was gone. And it’s mostly quiet, the gunfire only an echo from somewhere far away, deep inside the building. Though that does not mean that he is alone. No. There lay men dead in every corridor and by every open door.

Vegas nearly stumbles when someone suddenly grabs onto his ankle as he passes by. It’s a boy, barely older than Macau is. He has a bullet hole straight through his neck, his breathing ragged.

While everyone else around him succumbed to their injures, he clung to life. With proper medical care the other could probably survive his wound, could perhaps even live a full life. But there is no medical care, there is no help.

Vegas shows kindness in the only way he knows. He puts the boy out of his misery.

As he moves further into the building, he wonders who will mourn the boy and comes to the conclusion that probably no one. Why else would the other be here?

Those with nothing and no one left always seem to end up with the Theerapanyakul’s. Not only you get a roof over your head but also a bed to sleep in and you will never have to go hungry again. What is your life in exchange for all that?

Vegas has seen too many boys like that.

At first, they feel like they have won the lottery, like they are on top of the world. But as the time goes on, the light in their eyes starts to dim as they realize the only way out is by dying – and that death is always closer than any of them could ever imagine. Worst part is that even if given the chance, they would still make the same choices all over again.

He doesn’t understand it. If he had a choice, he would choose anything over his last name. Even death.

(And perhaps that is the same thing, after all. All of them would choose way out of their old lives. Even if the only way out was death. It would still be a way out.)

Vegas turns a corner, deep in thought and gets bullet to his shoulder. It’s only a scratch, really. He barely feels it, almost surprised to see his own sleeve bloody.

A man slumps heavily against the wall hardly an arm’s length away from him. He coughs up blood, collapsing to the floor. It happens slowly, like in the movies. For a moment all he can do is watch. The time slows still as he stares the man struggles to breathe.

Then a bullet hits the wall behind Vegas, narrowly missing his head and he crouches down next to the dying man. He makes sure to step on the other’s fingers, takes pleasure in the way the bones give out under his weight. The man swears which only ends up in another bloody coughing fit.

He is one of his father’s men, tall and broad shouldered. Mean to the very core of his being. He used to hold Vegas on his place when he was still young and stupid enough to try to run away from his father’s rage.

“Where is my father?” Vegas asks.

Before he dies, he wants to be the one to put a bullet in his father. He wants to make sure the other suffers until his very last breath. And then he will follow him into the afterlife and haunt him for all of eternity. It’s time father to start paying for what he has done to him, to Macau.

The man stares at him, his eyes unfocused, and coughs up more blood. Vegas thinks the other is going to die before he ever gets an answer but then he mumbles barely intelligible; “with your uncle.”

He is not surprised to find that his uncle has somehow managed to cheat death. After all, Uncle Korn has always been even worse man than his father is. The other always pretends to be good but has never once lifted a finger to help him or Macau despite knowing what happens at their home behind closed doors.

Well, Vegas thinks as he gets up from the floor. All the better for him.

He is going to make both of them pay.

Vegas does not kill his father. No. He is too late for that.

He knows it before he sees it, the gunshot rings loud even in the empty hallway. And still, he is surprised to actually find his father slumped against the bookshelf with a bullet hole on his forehead. Truly dead, truly gone.

For so long his father was the only monster haunting his nightmares that he nearly forgot the other one was only a man. And thus, died like all men do – simply, one breath at a time.

“Don’t worry,” his uncle says as he comes in. “Vegas and Macau, I’ll take care of them.”

He raises his gun, pointing it at his uncle. To his credit, Uncle Korn looks only mildly surprised to see him.

“If you really cared for us, you would have killed him a long time ago,” Vegas says through gritted teeth.

His uncle just looks at him for a long time, like there is no gun in between them. Like this is just a normal conversation. And then he answers and says the worst thing he could have ever said. Because Vegas understands it and he wants nothing less in this world than understand his father and his violence and his uncle who allowed it all to go on for so long.

“He was my brother.”  

Vegas understands it. He truly does. Macau could do the worst thing imaginable – no, he could do something so much worse. Something that is even beyond his imagination and Vegas would still forgive him. Macau could kill him and he wouldn’t hold it against him.

He would always forgive him. His little brother.

(And still, at the same time he doesn’t understand it. As far as he knows, his uncle and his father were never that close and then it only got worse after their father died. Their worlds were never confined into each other – not like his and Macau’s.)

That’s when a female voice says; “Brother?”

Vegas follows his uncle’s gaze. He had noticed Porsche and his cousin when he came in, he hadn’t just paid any attention to them. They didn’t matter to him. And because of that he only now takes notice of the woman, half-slumped on the ground and in Porsche’s arms.

Turns out Nampheung, his aunt who died all those years ago is still alive too. Must be a family trait, escaping death. One that was never afforded to him or his family. But alas, he has always known what being Minor Family means.

They are family in nothing but name. They are expendable. They are nothing.  

Such a curious thing, he thinks as he looks at her. He recognizes her. Not from his early memories or family photographs. There was only one he knew of and it was always safely hidden in his father’s locked desk drawer. He only ever saw it briefly when snooping around and he didn’t think it important. They all had dead relatives, one more who he barely remembers didn’t matter to him much.

No, Vegas knows her from another photograph. One he also saw very briefly, shown to him by Porsche. His mother.

He turns to look at Kinn and laughs. “Who would have thought that your family is even more fucked up than mine?”

“You know nothing,” Kinn answers, his gaze cool.

The other’s hand is on his gun but he has yet to raise it. It’s like even after everything, none of them still believe that he would ever actually harm them. It’s like they still believe family and the name Theerapanyakul means something to him. How foolish of them.

The fight drains out of Vegas as he realizes something.

He does not care for the Main Family or what happens to them. Does not care for the Minor Family either, they are already in ruins. He finds that he does not care for the name of Theerapanyakul at all. Now looking at his dead father, Vegas isn't sure if he ever cared.

What he does know is all he has ever wanted was Macau safe and his hands clean. He has managed as much.

Vegas turns his focus back to his uncle. The woman doesn’t matter to him, nor does Kinn and Porsche’s now questionable relationship. Nothing really matters to him anymore. He is suddenly tired to the bone.

“He was your brother,” Vegas says through gritted teeth. “But Macau is mine. Someone has to pay for what happened to him.”

“What happened to him? To you?” Kinn asks like he is only now starting to realize that only one of them had a loving father figure in their lives.

Asks like what happened to Vegas matters at all. It doesn’t. He has stopped mattering a long time ago. Ever since Macau was born, he has existed for one single purpose; to guard his brother from the world.

His finger hovers by the trigger, ready to shoot. It will never be enough; it will never make up for the hurt Uncle Korn has caused for them but dying for his sins is the least he can do for them.

“Vegas you are alone,” Kinn says. “You will never get out of here alive if you shoot.”

He laughs, humorless laugh. “That just means I got nothing to lose.”

The other stares at him like he doesn’t get it. Like he doesn’t understand that to Vegas every single life – including his own – is meaningless compared to his little brother’s. Maybe he doesn’t understand. Maybe Kinn wouldn’t die for his brothers in a heartbeat if it meant there was even a small chance they could go on living.

(People say the Theerapanyakul’s love to the point of insanity but Vegas thinks he loves his brother a lot farther than that.)

“What about Macau?”

“Don’t you dare to say his name after all you have done. You can hate me all you want but he is just a boy,” Vegas nearly shouts.

“What he is going to do if you die here today?”

“He is going to live,” Vegas answers simply. “Somewhere so far away that you will never find him. He will be the only one to truly get away from this bloody family.”

Macau knows how to access all of his finances, all the accounts and money his father nor the Main Family ever knew existed in the first place. He knows all the contacts of people Vegas trusts in case he needs help. He knows how to get out of the country without anyone knowing. He knows how to disappear to never be seen again. Vegas made sure of that.

There is a house and new identities waiting for them on the other side of the world. He has been planning it for a long time, a way out for the two of them.

There was just never good enough time to leave.

But at least now Macau will go. He will leave this godforsaken country behind and start anew elsewhere – even if it’s without him. And Vegas knows, the other will be fine. 

“You never see things clearly, Kinn,” Vegas says, turning his attention back to his uncle.

The man hasn’t moved from his spot, hasn’t even raised his own gun. He has the audacity to look almost sad when their eyes meet.

“As long as your father is alive, do you think he is going to let you run the business? Do you seriously believe he won’t be whispering every decision into your ear?”

Kinn stays quiet.

“Because I know he will. After all, he and my father are brothers. Two sides of the same coin. He loves the control too much to give it up – even for you Kinn, his son.”

Uncle Korn shakes his head and says; “I know you Vegas, you won’t do it.”

“Then you don’t know me at all,” Vegas laughs bitterly. “Cousin dearest, in a way I am doing you a favor. One day you will thank me for this.”

He pulls the trigger.

Multiple things happen at the same time.

Nampheung screams, starling all of them. As a result, Uncle Korn side steps, just enough for the bullet to not be fatal right there and then. It pierces his side and he collapses to the floor, eyes wide with surprise.

Kinn raises his own gun, ready to shoot but Vegas is faster. He has turned his own gun to himself, pressed the barrel tightly to the side of his head. He is ready to pull the trigger one more time. One last time.

And then Pete screams; “No!”

At the sound of his voice Vegas’ legs give out under him. It’s like he is a marionette doll whose strings have suddenly been cut. He buries his face to his hands and screams as his heart and soul shatter inside him.

“Kinn! Stop just standing there,” Pete orders, voice unwavering. “Apply pressure to the wound and he will live.”

Vegas does not see if his cousin does as he is told but he doesn’t care either way. He hopes the other lets the man bleed to his death right there, on the floor of his own study, knowing his own son could have saved him but chose not to.

But really, he doesn’t care at all. Not anymore. Not when his whole world has collapsed.

Then Pete is there and he pries the gun out of Vegas’ fingers none too gently. To his ear he murmurs urgently; “He is safe. He is alive.”

He grasps onto Pete's arm out of pure relief. He doesn’t know when he started crying but he also doesn’t know how to stop.

For just a moment his worst nightmare had become reality and he feels it in his body, a physical ache. It’s the kind of hurt he has never experienced, the kind you can’t will away or ignore. It consumes his whole being.

Then he starts laughing hysterically. Because he knows for a fact that he truly does not care for the Main Family, does not care for the Minor Family either. He does not care at all for the name of Theerapanyakul. Does not care what happens to any of them but he hopes they all burn. He hopes they will experience the same kind of fear and pain he has gone through. He hopes it will drive them all mad.

"The house, the name — all of it. It's yours. You can take it all. I don't care,” Vegas says, staggering back to his feet.

The ground sways under his feet and he would have fallen straight to back to his knees if not for Pete physically holding him upright.

To his surprise it's Porsche who speaks. "What are you going to do?"

The man is still holding onto his near hysterical mother who seems to be near passing out in his arms. Kinn is kneeling on the floor, pressing his jacket to his father’s wound. His hands are red with blood up to his elbows.

"Don't worry,” Vegas he says, doesn’t even realize the words roll of his tongue in English. “You are never going to see us again."

He starts laughing again. Who would have thought? Every horrible and atrocious thing he has ever committed in his life. Every life that has ended because of him. All that blood in his hands. For the family. For the Theerapanyakul’s.

(Never a word of thank you for what he did. Never any reward for his deeds. Never even acknowledgement for the cruelty he caused for their sake.)

All he fought for, bled for and suffered for. It was never for the Theerapanyakul’s, not really. Vegas knows that now.

He never really cared for any of them. He did it all so that his little brother never had to. It wasn’t for the name. It never did any good for him. He did it so that he could keep it all as far away from Macau as possible, so that he could have even resemblance of a normal life.

So, actually yes, it was for family, for Theerapanyakul. But for his family. For his Theerapanyakul. It was all for one person only. For Macau. His little brother.

Vegas stares at the Minor Family ring in his finger. Then he looks at his father, dead on the ground. He barely recognizes the other man like this. Still and quiet. Utterly meaningless.

He pries the ring off his finger and unceremoniously drops it to the ground. Giving it all up doesn’t even feel like losing something. No. Not when none of it was ever his in the first place.

It was never his family. It was never his legacy.

Uncle Korn is still conscious and Vegas hears him calling his name. Hears him speaking but he does not hear the words. Maybe in another life he would have cared, would have wanted to know what last words his uncle has for him.

But not in this life. In this life he has had enough of the family that never cared for him, never cared for his little brother. Perhaps if they had shown sympathy even once for the monster, they had turned him into, things would be different. Perhaps if they had even attempted to help them, help Macau, he would be making a different choice now.

They didn’t though. He and his little brother are alive, they survived, because Vegas fought nail and teeth for it to be that way. They never had any help from anyone.

Macau is alive. And against all odds, he is alive too. He is going to go back to his little brother and they are going to live. The both of them. Together.

Vegas walks out of the room without saying a goodbye. Without looking back. He leaves it all behind.

Of course, things do not go like that. Things never do. After all, Vegas Theerapanyakul has never had any luck on his side.

Yet, the bullet piercing his skin is nothing compared to the breaking of his heart. Vegas always knew hope is a dangerous thing to have; it dies a vicious death.

But this morning when he woke up, he thought he was dead man walking. He thought he would never leave the Main Family building alive, would never get to go back to his little brother.

He had settled on making sure one of them would live. That Macau would survive all this.

Vegas did not say it but his brother must have known. He must have known that the words he said back at the parking garage were a goodbye.

His little brother is smart. Smarter than he sometimes gives him credit for. And he knows Vegas like no one else does. No matter how he tried to hide it, the other always knew there is a part in him that only ever clung to life because it couldn’t bear to leave Macau behind. He must have also known there was another part in him that breathed a sigh of relief knowing there would be no more tomorrows for him after today.  

Still, it must count for something that in the end Vegas was on his way back. Back to his brother. That he didn't simply lay down in front of death's feet and accept it. That for a moment he had had hope that the both of them would survive. That the both of them would live.

It must count for something that after everything he wanted to live and had every intention to do so.

He hopes someone will be able to tell that to his little brother. That he was on his way back to him. That he chose him over the sweet embrace of death. And that he would always choose him, his little brother.

Then Pete is there, in front of him. Good, Vegas thinks, good. Pete knows where Macau is. He will tell him that Vegas didn’t give up. He will tell him that Vegas was on his way back to him. That Vegas tried to live, truly tried his best to do so, but it just wasn’t enough.

(Nothing he ever does is enough; he has had to learn to live with that and now he will die for it. He does not know if he is still in peace with that fact.)

Pete is speaking but he can't hear the word. The world around him has long since gone quiet. The darkness is slowly claiming him too. He can barely feel the other pressing down on the wound on his chest. He is acutely aware of the lack of pain where the bullet tore through him.

There is a light behind the other man, it embraces him like a halo. It makes him look like an angel. And in a way, that is exactly what Pete was to him. The light in the endless darkness surrounding him. He was the only other good thing he ever had in his life.

Perhaps it is kindness that Vegas dies here today.

Pete will mourn him – for a time. But that time will go on. He will move on. He will meet someone else. He will find another man. A better man, someone who will know how to treat him kindly.

Vegas wishes Pete was smiling instead of crying but he is glad nonetheless. At least the other is the very last thing he ever gets to see in this lifetime.

"I love you," he says. Or at least he thinks he says.

Death comes to him.

It is quiet.

It is endless.

Death is nothing.

And then Vegas opens his eyes.

Life is full of sounds and colors and movement. Life is full. Vegas has never felt quite like that, quite so present in his body. Every inch of him aches and every breath or air feels like inhaling glass. And yet, he has never felt quite so alive.

He blinks, slowly. It feels like the hardest thing he has ever done in his life.

There he is, his little brother. Macau. Right in front of him. The boy is crying.

"You are alive," he manages to croak out, his throat so impossibly dry.

Macau cries harder and holds onto his hand so tightly that it hurts worse than any pain Vegas has ever experienced in his life so far. He hopes the other never lets go of him.

"What about you?" The other asks.

Vegas has never before been able to answer his little brother's question. Never could quite admit it aloud.

This time he says, easily; "I'm alive."

Macau drapes himself over Vegas’, hugging him so impossibly tight. It hurts more than getting shot ever did in the first place. And yet, all he can do is hug him back. The whole world be damned, he thought he would never get to hold his little brother in his arms again. What is a bit of pain compared to that? After all, that is all Vegas has ever known. Pain.

Pete is there too. He can see him over Macau’s shoulder, hovering by the door like he isn't sure if he is even supposed to be there.

"You took him somewhere safe," Vegas says, staring at the other man straight to the eyes. "Why did you come back?"

Why did you not stay safe?

Pete meets his gaze without wavering. His eyes are wide and slightly red as if he too had been crying not too long ago.

"You weren't safe,” is all the other says.

Macau tells him that Pete left the Main Family because of Vegas. No. That he left the Main Family for Vegas. He doesn’t know how he did that and he doesn’t dare to ask. No one ever leaves in this line of business. The only way out is by dying and yet there Pete is. Somehow, alive and well.

He thinks about all of those men who ever dared to asked to be let go of service. Father would listen and nod his head and even say sympathetic words about ill parents and congratulate for upcoming babies. He would always thank them for dedicating their lives for serving the Theerapanyakul Family. He would tell them they can go but they can never come back.

The men would always be so grateful. They would praise Gun Theerapanyakul, say he was the greatest man to ever live. And father would always accept it all with a smile and say how it’s nothing.

Then eventually those men would turn to leave and Vegas had no way of telling them not to. Because when they did, father always pulled out his gun and shot them in the back. Then he would turn and ask the people around him; “anyone else who wants to leave?”

No one ever did.

Perhaps things were different in the Main Family – though Vegas doubts that. Maybe they handled things a bit differently than his father did but the endgame was always the same. You either stayed or you died. There were never any other options.

He looks at Pete who sits on a foldable chair by his hospital bed while Macau tells him about the countryside. There are a lot of trees and Pete’s grandmother has a garden. She has fruit trees and you can just pick up a fruit whenever you feel like it and eat it.

According to Macau Pete's grandmother is also a great cook and taught him how to play the cards because he had to leave his game console behind. He is glad about that. Macau deserves to have an actual adult in his life who cares for his well-being.

He doubts the woman will be as glad to meet him after what he did to Pete. But Vegas is alright with that. Just being alive is more than he ever dared to hope for.

Macau tells him they will go there together, as soon as Vegas is better. His little brother’s voice wavers at that. He knows the other feared he would never wake up at all.

Vegas thought so too. He thought he truly did die by the pool at the Main Family residence. There had been nothing after he closed his eyes. But what is one more lie told if it makes his brother smile brighter than the sun itself? Yes, he fought. Yes, he clung to life.

Pete tells him no one will find them there, at least, not for a while. The town is a small and people don't talk. They take care of their own. He wasn't stupid enough to give the Main Family his actual address when he started working for them. He didn't want anyone go looking for his grandmother if something ever went wrong.

Vegas thinks they did know the truth. Or at least Chan knew and the one who was good with computers and wore glasses. Chan was too careful of a man to not double and triple check the information given to him. He was too careful to not dig out the truth.

But like Vegas knows, Chan was also a reasonable man. Even if he worked for the Main Family, deep down, he was a good person. Or at least, better person than most. He wouldn’t have told anyone unless it was necessary. And because Pete was always good little soldier, never stepped out of a line, there was never any reason to tell anyone.

The truth died with him on the front steps of the Main Family building.

Of course, with enough digging, they will find the truth out as well. In time. For now, Vegas is quite sure they will have their hands full with the aftermath of the bloodshed that took place in their home.

They won’t have the time to look for one misplaced bodyguard. Especially if they have no reason to think he is hiding with the children of Minor Family.

Kinn probably won’t even think about it. He didn’t even realize Pete was missing at first even though he himself sent him to his death. And Vegas thinks Porsche cares too much for his friend to ever say anything about the truth to him.

Vegas believes it. That they truly are safe – for now. Of course, they can’t stay here forever. He doesn’t even want to stay here forever. He wants to leave behind this whole godforsaken country and start again somewhere far, far away.

But for a while at least, they don’t have to keep glancing over their shoulders. They don’t have to hold their breaths and wait for the bullet to come.

Vegas never thought he could have that.

Later Macau has curled up against Vegas’ side and he is deep in a dream. He hopes his little brother dreams are filled with softer, gentler things than the real world ever has given him. He looks at the boy, how young he looks like this and feels like crying.

“I thought I was going to die that day. That I would never see him again,” Vegas whispers.

Pete is quiet for a while. Then he takes his hand into his, interlacing their fingers together, and squeezes.

“I thought you died that day Vegas. I thought the last time I ever saw you was in that parking garage,” the other agrees. “I wanted to ask you to come with us but I knew you would have refused and I didn’t want Macau to hear that.”

After that Pete just stares out of the window for a long time.

Vegas studies his side profile. He has dark sleepless bruises under his eyes but apart from that he looks well. Like he has finally eaten a full meal. His skin has golden hue to it, like he has spent a lot of time out in the sun. There is dirt under his fingernails and his hand is calloused but warm against Vegas’ cold one.

His hair is also slightly longer than he remembers it being. It suits him, as does the blue linen shirt he is wearing. It brings color to his cheeks, making him look more alive than the bodyguard uniform ever did.

More than that though, Pete looks free. Vegas finds that he prefers this version of him.

“I almost didn’t come back,” the other admits quietly.

“So why did you?”

Vegas is actually curious to know. He thinks if their roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have come back. But perhaps that is because he isn’t a good man. He would have taken his little brother and run as fast and as far as he possibly could.

He thinks that in time, he would maybe even have felt guilty over that decision. But then all of it would have been too far in the past for him to do anything about it.

In time he would have learned how to live with that guilt. He always did so eventually. It was the only way for him to ever go forward. It was the only way for him to ever live with all he had done.

Pete turns to look at Macau who sleeps soundlessly and his expression is almost fond when he says; “you are only half as scary as your little brother.”

“Oh, I know,” he agrees and smiles almost sadly at his little brother.

If he closes his eyes, he can see the other back in the parking garage and how he did not hesitate to shoot. How he pulled the trigger without a second thought when Kinn didn’t immediately do as he was asked. He remembers the fear on his cousin’s face, on Porsche’s, when they realized that.

They didn’t believe, not even moment, that Macau would really do it. (That was foolish of them but when has his cousin ever been anything but.)

Vegas remembers the look on his brother’s face when the other fired the gun. His eyes had been cold and empty. For a moment he hadn’t been Macau. No, something else, something with nothing good inside him had taken his little brother’s place.

He has spent his whole life trying to keep the boy safe. But more than that, he has spent every second of his life trying to keep their father away from that thing inside his brother. Trying to stop father from realizing its existence and waking the monster up.

Not only because it would ultimately take Macau away from him. No. It was also because he didn’t know what kind of ruin something like that could bring into this world.

Vegas Theerapanyakul might be a monster himself but he is also only a man. He was never the perfect little killing machine his father so desperately wished for because despite what he liked to pretend, he still had feelings.

Macau though? He was born out of their mother’s desperate fear and their father’s endless cruelty and it all culminated into such deep darkness that at times even Vegas was nearly afraid of him. No. Afraid of that thing. He could never fear his own brother. Never his little brother.

He has tried his damn hardest to keep Macau safe, both from their father and that darkness inside him. He looks at the other and how he sleeps with his cheek pressed against Vegas’ shoulder. He thinks he has done alright. Maybe even more than alright.

Vegas knows that if he had failed, if the darkness had taken over, he would have just simply followed his little brother into it. What other choice he would have? Surely, he couldn’t have let him go alone. After all, Macau is his little brother.

(Just like Uncle Korn sat by and watched his brother ruin his two children, let him do it simply because it was his brother. No, Vegas would be far worse than either of them ever was. He would join his brother in whatever he did. He would never let his brother be the only one with dirty hands.)

He hugs the younger boy closer to himself. Thankfully Macau did his work easy. He is a good person, kind, in a way Vegas never could be.

“Uncle Korn did he…” Vegas lets the rest of his sentence to die on his tongue.

He isn’t sure if he does really want to know if the man died or not. He isn’t sure if he actually cares either way. Living would be more than he deserves and dying would be too kind after everything he did, after everything he allowed to happen.

Vegas thinks about his family massacred and dead in every corner of the Main Family building. He thinks about the boy he shot because it was kinder than letting him suffer until the end. The boy was barely older than Macau and yet, far from being the youngest whose life was cut short that night.

Uncle Korn might not have personally pulled the trigger but he gave the order to do so. All that blood is in his hands.

And Vegas knows, he will never be clean from that sin. There is no way to turn back the time and make things right. There is no force that could bring back the dead.

Pete looks at him, almost surprised. “He was in coma when we left. It didn’t sound like he would ever wake up again.”

How fitting, he thinks. Not dead and not alive.

Perhaps his uncle is stuck in the same endless nothingness Vegas was. He hopes the man rots there for years on end, hopes he begs for a way out of there. Most of all, he hopes there is no one who hears his screams just like there was no one who heard his whenever father laid his hands on him.

He hopes Kinn will keep the man hooked up on the machines that keep his heart beating and the air in his lungs for a very long time to come.

He hopes his cousin will forget him there, in a fancy hospital room with the best care money can buy. He hopes Uncle Korn will wither away with no one by his side.

It’s a pity that his own father got off so easy. But Vegas isn’t worried. He will surely meet the other man in the afterlife, in the hell they both belong in. There he will make father pay for every single thing he ever did to them tenfold. He will make sure the man wishes he could die all over again just to get away from Vegas.

(To him, eternity doesn’t sound so bad.)

“Did you think I would ever wake up again?” Vegas eventually dares to ask.

“No.”

Vegas looks at him. It seems it’s his turn to be surprised. Though he isn’t exactly sure why. Pete could have wished for his death and he wouldn’t hold it against him. Not after everything he did to him.

He doesn’t even know why the other is here. Doesn’t know why he took Macau and hid him when he asked. He doesn’t know why the other man brought him out of the city and danger to the countryside. At any moment, Pete could have turned around and walked away.

Yet, he never did so. Pete is better, so much better man than Vegas ever has been.  

“Macau did. He never gave up hope. He believed in you waking up enough for the both of us.”

Vegas looks at his little brother and smiles. It seems that neither of them knows how to give up when it comes to each other. He knows if it had been Macau and not him in the hospital bed, he would have physically made sure his heart kept beating inside his chest if it came to that.

He would have forced the air into his brother’s lungs himself if he had to.

Vegas Theerapanyakul has looked death eye to eye and told it to back down more than once. He has crawled back home from missions that should have killed him. He has gotten back up after hits that would have kept everyone else on the ground – forever.

No such small, insignificant thing as death could ever keep Vegas away from Macau, from his little brother. Not when he has chosen to live for him.

“Why didn’t you?”

“You died Vegas,” Pete simply says. “I held you in my arms and I felt how you took your last breath.”

Oh.

“I don’t know how but Macau was at the hospital doors when we got there. The doctors kept telling him there was nothing left for them to do. You were gone. You died.”

Did he truly? He doesn’t feel like he died.

“Macau had none of it,” Pete says, looking at the young boy. “He just kept screaming. No, no he isn’t. He is my brother; he isn’t be dead.”

It’s Pete who speaks the words but Vegas hears the echo of his brother’s desperation in them. His pleas of return are engraved so deep in his being that it’s all he ever hears when he thinks of letting go.

“I never believed in miracles, who would in this world?” Pete sounds almost bitter as he says it, like he too asked for one but never received anything.

Yes, who would believe in miracles in this world? Definitely not Vegas. Not after everything. He has begged and pleaded every god he knows the name of. Time after time. He has prayed until his knees were bruised and his throat was raw, until he lost his voice.

No one ever answered him. No one ever helped him.

“I still don’t believe in miracles – but I do believe in your brother,” Pete nods towards the sleeping boy. “You were already cold to the touch but when he grasped onto your arm and screamed, your heart started beating again.”

Oh.

At that moment Macau opens his eyes as if sensing they are speaking of him. He stares at Vegas, his eyes too dark and too wide. There is something unnatural in his gaze.

Then he blinks and it’s gone. Vegas looks at him and it’s just his little brother.

“It wasn’t your time to go,” is all Macau says.

The room settles into an unnerving silence. Vegas holds onto his brother a bit tighter and he knows. It wasn’t just him who looked at death and said no, not today. Perhaps Macau would have followed him into death and brought him back with his bare hands if he had to. Just like Vegas would have done if their roles had been reversed.

He looks at his little brother, remembers the very first time he held him in his arms. It was scene much like this one. Their mother had laid in her hospital bed and her cheeks had been as pale as the sheets she was clinging to. Vegas was just a child himself back then but he knew she was dying; her breaths were so very shallow and her hands so very weak.

Macau, he is your world, she had said. And then Vegas had made the promise that shaped his whole life.

He wonders if their mother knew they would end up like this. If she knew how bloody her son’s hands would get in order for him to keep his promise. If she knew that Vegas would never regret it, not even for a second.

(He wonders how could a mother do that to her child.)

“It’s okay ‘Cau,” Vegas promises. “I will be right here when you get back.”

The boy hovers by the door, hesitating. He knows the other doesn’t want to leave his side – he wouldn’t want to do that either. But Macau knows he and Pete have things they need to talk about, things perhaps not fit for his hears. He is also tempted by the nurse’s offer of free snacks.

“He is in good hands, Khun Macau,” the nurse says.

She is older than their mother would have been even if she was still alive. She has deep smile lines around her eyes and her gaze is alert in a way that nothing will get past her. Her smile is gentle. She is the first adult Vegas remembers ever treating him kindly. There must have been other’s but he doesn’t remember them anymore, they are too far in the past.

She offers her hand for Macau who eventually accepts it.

“I will be back soon,” the other promises.

“I’m not going to leave you Macau,” he says to his little brother’s back.

The boy stops for a moment and looks back to him over his shoulder. He smiles and says; “I believe you, hia.”

Then the door closes after him and the nurse. It feels like the weight of the whole world has been suddenly taken off Vegas’ shoulder and he didn’t even know how much it all weighted. Those words – they mean everything to him.

So many times, he has made that very promise. So many times, Macau has pretended to believe him. This is the first time he really does so. He truly believes that Vegas won’t leave him.

“He is a good kid,” Pete says.

“Not thanks to our father,” Vegas scoffs, the last word leaving a bad taste in his mouth.

“No,” Pete answers. “He is, thanks to you.”

He can’t meet the other’s eyes. That’s another thing he has always wanted to hear. To have someone recognize the fact that he did it all for Macau. To have someone know that the other is the person he is because of him.

The thing is, he doesn’t think he deserves it. He didn’t do it right.

“I’m not a good person,” he says and stares at the wall.

“No,” Pete agrees easily. “But Macau didn’t need a good person. He needed someone who was willing to do and sacrifice absolutely everything, even himself, for his sake. He needed you, Vegas, because no good person would ever have done even half the things you did so he never had to.”

His vision blurs and it takes him embarrassingly long time to realize that it’s because he is crying. Before he has the time to wipe the tears away, Pete’s fingers are there, gentle and warm against his cheekbones. So very carefully the other turns his head so that their eyes meet.

“Besides, you did all the bad things for the right reasons.”

Pete’s voice is soft and that makes it all so much worse. Because Vegas knows. It doesn’t make any of it right. Just like his uncle’s hands are bloody, so are his. He will never be able to wash them clean either.

That’s not the worst of it though. Vegas can live with that. There is so much blood but he isn’t scared of it. When he stares at it long enough, eventually, it’s nothing but red. They say it’s the color of love, don’t they? That is his love for his brother. So much red for his little brother.

No. The worst is that he knows, that perhaps in another life, he wouldn’t have needed to do any of it. That in another life his father wouldn’t have given him a gun when he asked for a book.

No. The worst is that Vegas doesn’t believe in that life. (He can’t believe in it. It would hurt too much because they deserved to have that in this life.)

“Doesn’t change the fact that I am a monster,” he says bitterly. “Macau should hate me. You of all people should hate me.”

At that Pete laughs and says, shaking his head; “You aren’t as bad man as you think you are Vegas Theerapanyakul.”

Is it enough – he wants to ask but doesn’t dare to.

“I don’t think there is anything you could do that would make Macau hate you. You are his whole world and he loves you more than anything.”

Just like him. Vegas thinks it scares him a bit how similar they are when he has spent his whole life trying to achieve the very opposite. He never wanted Macau to be anything like he himself is.

But it’s nice too. Hearing someone else say it; that his brother loves him. He isn’t someone people love. At times he finds himself doubting it, whether his brother just pretends. Whether he too is just scared of him like everyone else. Even though he knows all they ever had is each other.

“You know, I loved you Vegas,” Pete says and this time it’s him who turns to look away. “I had to learn to live with that, knowing what you did to me. Knowing I had just lost you.”

“Pete–“

“No, let me say this,” the other interrupts him. “When we left that parking garage your brother kept screaming at me how I would regret it for the rest of my life. That I would regret not speaking my mind then. That’s the reason why I came back.”

“Pete–,“ he tries again but the man shakes his head.

So, Vegas stays quiet.

“Then you died in my arms and I could never say it. That I loved you and that I thought I could never stop loving you.”

Very carefully, Pete turns to look back at him. There are tears glittering in the corners of his eyes but despite that, he is smiling. The other is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in life.

“I still do. I love you, Vegas.”

Vegas raises his hand that isn’t being tightly held by Pete and just holds him. He caresses his cheek, follows the line of his jaw with his fingertips. He watches how the other exhales and licks his lips, never turning away from his gaze.

And then Pete leans down and kisses him.

It’s a soft, gentle kiss. The kind Vegas doesn’t remember ever sharing with anyone. He savors it, the feeling of the other’s lips against his. And the knowledge that it won’t be the last kiss they will ever share.

He feels drunk with the idea that they could have a future. That he could have a future.

The room door suddenly opens and they pull apart, startled by the sound.

“Oh, sorry?” Macau says it like it’s a question. He stands there by the door with a lollipop in one hand and a soda can in the another and he looks as surprised as Vegas feels. “You stopped talking so…”

Vegas shakes his head, amused. Of course, his little brother couldn’t stray too far for too long. Of course, he was listening on the other side of the door. (If he thinks about what he might have heard too long he gets mortified so refuses to think about it at all.)

The other licks his lollipop, raises his eyebrows slightly in a question and asks; “do you want me to go and come back in a few minutes?”

He is tempted to say yes. Instead, he shakes his head as a no and motions his brother to come in. They are in a hospital after all. Anyone could walk through that door at any time. They can’t afford to get too carried away, not here. But it’s alright. They have time. For probably the first time in Vegas’ life, he has time.

“Well, I’m not going to share any of this” Macau says while somehow managing to maneuver the door closed despite his full hands. He looks at Vegas and smiles. “Doctor’s orders.”

Then he winces, just a slightly. The expression of pain flashes across his face so fast that if Vegas hadn’t spent his whole life looking at his little brother, he would most likely have missed it. He follows Macau’s gaze down to his arm, the one holding the lollipop. And then he watches him look back up and smile brightly like nothing happened.

Vegas stares at the long sleeves of his brother’s shirt. His brother never wears long sleeves. Not if he can wear literally anything else.

When the other sits down on the edge of his hospital bed, for a moment Vegas just looks at him. He won’t do it if his brother says no. But the other doesn’t say anything. He just sits there quietly, avoiding his eyes.

So, Vegas takes his little brother’s hand in his. And with all the care he can muster, he pulls his shirt sleeve up.

“No,” he breathes out.

He has to close his eyes but even then, the only thing he sees is the burnt skin of Macau’s forearm. It has started to in heal in the time Vegas was – was not here. Still, the skin there is disfigured and raised. Red in the way it’s not supposed to be.

“I’m sorry,” Vegas eventually manages to say. “It should have been me.”

“No,” Macau says, pulling his shirt sleeve back down to hide the scarring. “It shouldn’t have been you. Or me. It shouldn’t have been anyone.”

Vegas’ eyes burn from all the crying he has been doing and he is almost surprised that he finds no more tears in him.

“And I don’t just mean this,” his brother motions towards his arm. “I mean all of it.”

Macau, of course, is right. He very rarely is wrong about anything. He is a smart kid.

(A smart kid who deserved a father who looked for the best teachers the world had to offer instead of yelling at him when he didn’t hit the target at a shooting practice. Practice he never wanted to be a part of in the first place.)

The fact is though, that it did happen. All of it. And if someone had to bear the burden of it all, it should have been Vegas. It was supposed to be him. It was always supposed to him.

And it’s not like it was a choice he made, to suffer in his brother’s stead. No. When he held little Macau in his arms for the very first time, he had known, somewhere deep in his soul, that he was born for this. He existed for the sole purpose of keeping his little brother safe.

The world just has twisted sense of humor. Time after time, he tried to be good. He tried to do this one thing right but the world just wouldn’t let him.

“You shouldn’t have had to give up your life for me.”

Vegas blinks, dumbfounded.

“I didn’t give up anything, Macau,” he says before the other can go on.

His little brother stares at the lollipop in his hand like it’s the most fascinating thing he has ever seen in his life. He keeps blinking furiously and bites hard onto the flesh of his bottom lip. Just like Vegas taught him, told him to be quiet. The walls had ears and you could never tell who was listening. It was safer to not make a sound. He squeezes the other’s hand.

“Well, at least things would have been easier for you without me,” Macau mumbles, not meeting his eyes.

“No,” Vegas gasps and finds that he does have more tears left in him after all.

The tears just roll down his cheeks as he struggles for words. Struggles for air as he seems to have suddenly forgotten how to draw breath into his lungs. It feels like Macau just shot him, expect the pain is much worse. It’s like something in him is being torn apart.

To hear him say Vegas’ life would have been easier without him in it is just unbearable. His little brother, the center of his universe.

He doesn’t want easier. He never wanted easier. Not if it means he doesn’t have his little brother by his side. Vegas can’t even imagine life without the other, cannot even begin to fathom what that kind of life would look like.

And besides, Macau has got it all backwards. He made everything easier for him. He has always been the reason why Vegas fought, why he went on at all.

“No, Macau,” he chokes out, not knowing what else to say. Not knowing how to make this right.

So, Vegas simply pulls his brother against his chest and hugs him. Probably too tightly but Macau clings to him just the same. He holds him as the other cries quietly against his shoulder.

They stay like that for a long time.

“Macau,” Pete is eventually the one to break the long silence. “You made it all bearable by just existing. You kept him alive.”

They both turn to look at him.

Macau blinks, slowly like he is confused and wipes his face with the sleeve of his shirt. His hair is sticking in all directions and Vegas wants to reach out and smooth it out. He doesn’t because his brother is settled now next to him on the bed, laying half on top his arm and the other is held tightly by Pete.

He doesn’t want to move, fears that doing so would break some kind of spell and take it all away from him. An odd kind of calmness has settled in to the room, like all that crying washed away a bit of something horrible he has been carrying with him for far too long.

“I don’t know if you knew but we were trained on what to do when you died on a mission, Vegas,” Pete says.

He simply nods. Of course, he knew. There were plans for all of them.

Vegas had even been made to learn scripts for press release. There was three of them – one for each cousin, in case they died. He still remembers all of them, word to word.

Tankhun was a loving big brother and cousin, truly the glue that kept the family together. Selfless in a way we can only aspire to be in our own lives and I am sure that is what we all will strive towards in his honor as we grieve the loss of him…

Kinn was always the obvious choice for the next head of the family and no one will ever be able to fill his place. We grieve not only him but the family as well and how it will never flourish like it would have under his leadership…

Kim was loved by many alongside his family and we are sure that the music he left behind will be a great comfort to all of us grieving this tremendous loss. This was a gift we as a family didn’t even realize we would one day have when we started supporting his dream to become an artist…

All lies.

(Kinn was the only choice Uncle Korn had when Tankhun was no longer suitable for the position. Kim was too young and the Minor Family was never an option, not to him. In the aftermath of Tankhun’s kidnapping he closed in and seemingly forgot others were people too. The family very actively tried to sabotage Kim’s music career as if he got out, they could no longer control him like they did before.)

Vegas wonders, very briefly, if his cousins had scripts as well. And if they did, what kind of lies they would have been made to say about him? About Macau?

“Not if but when,” Pete continues and he knows what he is going to say next before he even says it; “You weren’t supposed to survive.”

Macau lets out a sound that is somewhere between a sob and a gasp but Vegas barely reacts. He knew it already. Of course, no one ever said anything to him but they didn’t need to. Just like he always knew deep in himself that there is nothing he wouldn’t do for his little brother, he always knew this too.

“We were told you would make it back home on your own or you wouldn’t make it back home at all,” Pete sounds almost apologetic and for a moment he doesn’t understand why.

“It was more than once that you went down and people thought; oh, that’s it then,” the other continues, his voice quiet. “Even I have been on missions where we had gotten ready to transport your body back.”

And then Vegas understands it. He truly does.

In their world loyalty goes to the one paying most and even if they feared him, he was never the one signing their paychecks. To them, it didn’t matter if he lived or not. And for a long time, that included Pete as well.

“But you made it home every time…” Macau whispers.

“Yeah,” Vegas answers, his voice soft. “I promised I would always come back to you.”

His brother looks almost shy after that, refusing to meet Vegas’ eyes. But he is smiling and that is all that matters to him.

“Pete is right, Macau. I chose you,” he says. “And because I chose you, I lived.”

It’s simply the truth.

Vegas would have died for anyone and anything if it meant making their father proud. The reason he didn’t was because he had a little brother he had to go back home to. That was always more important to him than anything father could have ever given him.

“You chose me?” Macau asks, sounding slightly surprised as he keeps blinking tears away.

Vegas hugs him and whispers always into the other’s hair.

He has been so busy keeping his brother safe, keeping him alive, that he never really had time to think if Macau knew it. Especially as he kept most of the things secret – for a reason. Maybe it seemed like he always just did whatever was asked of him, maybe it wasn’t obvious why he did everything that he did.

“I choose you too,” his brother murmurs against his shoulder.

And he gets it. He has always known his little brother loves him but it’s different, hearing it like this, that he chooses him over everything. No one has ever really chosen him before, not even his own parents. Not until Pete did and that still feels like a fever dream to him most of the time.

“I need you to know we were just following orders. It doesn’t mean we liked it,” Pete says, looking at him intently.

The words mean more to him that he thought they would. Vegas thought he was over caring what other’s think but it’s nice to know they didn’t want to leave him to die. Not like his family did. He smiles at the other.

“Besides, people might not have liked you but everyone knew they had a higher change of coming back alive from a mission with you than they had with Kinn.”

That makes him laugh. Oh, he knows. He plans, meticulously. He can bide his time and wait for the perfect moment to strike. He has a backup plan for his backup plan.

His cousin on the other hand is impulsive and never seems to think before acting. That costs lives.

That doesn’t mean people never died under Vegas’ command. No, the opposite of that actually. A lot of people died because of him. He always knew, you can’t save everyone. So, he settled on saving one person – his little brother. And in order to save him, Vegas needed to live. He was willing to sacrifice everyone if it meant he got to go back home.

Perhaps that makes him a bad person but he can’t find it in himself to care. To him, every lost life is justified. They died so that he can live and thus, his little brother can live.

Of course, not all lives were lost. Some he had to take. He has killed and tortured even if it wasn’t about his survival, done it simply because he was told to. He has pulled the trigger even when he didn’t want to.

There is so much blood in his hands that he can’t even think about it for too long or he starts to feel sick in his stomach. And yet, he would do it all over again without a question.

“I know I have done a lot of bad things; I need you to know I didn’t like them either,” Vegas says. It feels like a confession, saying it aloud.

Pete nods, squeezing his hand like he knows. And perhaps he does, better anyone.

Macau looks at him and eventually asks; “Why then do them?”

Vegas doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t want to put the weight of all those horrible things on his little brother’s shoulders. It’s not his burden to bear. Macau has always been good and kind to the point of a fault, it would ruin him – knowing the horrors committed in his name.

“Because he loves you. And because of that he doesn’t want your hands dirty,” voice answers in his stead by the door.

Pete’s grandmother is what Vegas always imagined when people spoke of their grandparents. She is short woman with deep smile lines and a bit of weight on her. She is wearing a floral print dress and a sunhat with a bright red flower on it.

His grandparents were nothing like that. In every single photograph they seem stiff and stoic. Pale like they had never seen the sun and skinny like they had never had a full meal in their lives despite being some of the richest people in the whole country.

Even without ever meeting them, Vegas despises them. Especially for raising two children like his father and Uncle Korn.

“So, you have come back from the dead,” she says, staring at Vegas in a way that is in many ways scarier than his father ever was.

He doesn’t say anything, just looks at her, studies her. She looks just like any other old woman, just like Macau described her. But her gaze – it’s different. There is something in her eyes, something dangerous. Vegas knows because he sees the same thing in his own eyes every time he looks into the mirror.

“I have heard a lot about you Vegas Theerapanyakul,” she says, closing the door behind her before taking a seat at one of the empty chairs by his bed. She seems to study him as well, staring at him for a long time before eventually saying; “I even had the misfortune of meeting your father, once upon a time. Truly a dreadful man.”

Macau is all smiles as Pete’s grandmother turns her attention to him. She ruffles his hair and kisses his cheek.

And oh, how does Vegas ache. They should have always had that. Macau should have always had that. A childhood full of love and affection and care. Seeing it like this, someone else than him loving his little brother makes the absence of those things even more painful.

Of course, he tried. For Macau, he always did try. To be a mother and father all in one person. But that’s the thing, he has always been just one person. He didn’t have it in himself; to be a grandparent too. (God knows he did attempt that too.)

He swallows down his grief of how he was never able to be just a brother.

When Pete’s grandmother smiles it transforms her whole face. She seems softer and the glint of danger disappears from her eyes. Her laugh is gentle as she says; “I don’t know how he managed to have two such good children. Your mother must have been a saint.”

Vegas doubts that. He remembers her with bitterness. His memories of her might be few and in most of them she is already fading from illness, but he doesn’t remember her being kind. That doesn’t mean she was cruel either. No, she was always just indifferent. Distant.

Not once he remembers her helping him, saying no to father. He doesn’t even remember her kissing the bruises better afterwards.

She died and left them. He knows she was ill but he wishes she had fought for them. Or had fought for Macau – that would have been enough.

Vegas remembers the hollowness in her eyes, in her smile. Even when he was just a child, he could feel it in her, how she had given up. (He can’t really fault her for that, not with the kind of man she lived with. And yet, he has no sympathy for her. She had children.)

He remembers her funeral too. How he had held little Macau in his arms and thought that their mother had felt like a ghost to him a long before she ever really died.

“You have killed for your brother, haven’t you Vegas?” Pete’s grandmother suddenly asks, seemingly out of the blue.

It feels like she could smell out a lie so he answers truthfully. It’s not like it’s a secret; “Yes.”

“Would you do it again?”

She doesn’t sound like she is judging him. No, she seems just – curious. It’s like she is speaking of something ordinary, like the weather, and not a murder.

Vegas looks at Macau for a long time before answering. Not because he needs to think about it, he has always known the answer to that question. He has always been willing to do anything for his brother. That has not changed nor it ever will.

He just doesn’t know how the other will react to it. Macau has always been uneasy about death, especially when it comes to unnatural causes. He is good like that, thinks everyone deserves to live while Vegas would sacrifice the whole world without a second thought for his sake.

“Yes,” he says.

Macau doesn’t say anything, simply just squeezes his hand.

“What about my Pete?” She asks. “Would you kill for him?”

“Yes,” he answers again.

“Good,” she says, almost absentmindedly, like she is deep in a thought.

Vegas looks at Pete who just shrugs his shoulders as an answer. Neither of them seems to have any idea where this conversation is headed. And how could they when the next thing she says is; “If it ever comes to that again, you come to me. I will take care of it.”

For a moment they are all quiet.

Then he asks very carefully; “Why would you do that for me?”

From the way Pete swats at his arm, that seems to have been the wrong thing to ask. Vegas forgets at times that not everyone lived as he did, not everyone speaks of death like it’s the weather. But this woman does and he knows she must have seen things, done things. He recognized it in her immediately. (They do say killer knows another. Maybe Pete is just too close to see it.)

“Because you were a child doing things no child ever should have to. Let me take care of you for once.”

And to that Vegas has nothing to say.

No one has ever done anything for him, not like this. Not out of their own free will, not without expecting anything in return. No one has ever said it aloud, that he was just a child. It makes him feel like child, vulnerable, and for the first time probably ever he thinks; he can be both. He is safe to be both.

“Thank you,” he manages to whisper, quiet. Breathless.

“Grandma, it’s different world out there,” Pete says, sounding slightly horrified. “You can’t protect us from that.”

She stares at her grandson like he had just said something incredibly stupid.

“I know more of that world than you think,” she says simply says.

“What do you mean?” Macau asks, clearly curious.

“Well,” she smiles and leans closer to share her secret, “let’s say Pete’s father didn’t die on his own.”

“What?” Pete asks like this is completely new information to him. Maybe it is.

“He wouldn’t let me see you, my only grandson. And then he treated you like that,” she says, shaking her head. “It had to be done.”

(Vegas tries very hard to not think whether his grandmother would have done the same for him, for Macau, had she lived. Because he knows the answer – she wouldn’t have.)

“Why did you never tell me?”

“You were child, Pete. It wasn’t your burden to bear.”

The other man looks almost hurt about not having been told the truth. Vegas wonders would Macau feel the same if he ever learned the whole truth. Perhaps. Perhaps not. He will never know because he will never tell his brother.

After all, it has never been his little brother’s burden to bear.

Pete’s grandmother looks at him like she knows and he believes that she does. They are similar in ways he never even thought to expect. It’s relief.

As the night settles in there is no ghosts of neon lights peeking through the curtains. It’s the moonlight flooding into the room through the gaps in the curtains and painting everything in reach silver.

There is no father haunting Vegas’ every waking moment and then following him into every dream. It’s just quiet. And even when there are footsteps behind his door, he knows it’s just a nurse making their rounds.

It’s curious thing, feeling so at ease.

Even when he was planning on taking Macau and running away with him, he never thought even for a second that he could breathe easier then. No. He would have had to spend the rest of his life looking over his shoulder, waiting.

When one starts working for the Theerapanyakul’s the only way out is by dying. The same goes for those born into it.

No matter how much they despised him they still needed him. Vegas was the only one willing to do the actual dirty work, the only one who had the stomach for it. They never saw him as a human, he was only ever their little weapon.

They would have never given that up. They would have hunted him, hunted Macau, down to the ends of the earth. He is sure of that.

But now? Now Vegas Theerapanyakul has died.

And because of that, he is going to live. Every time someone whispers a word of him, suggests that he survived, someone else will undoubtedly bring up the fact that he didn’t. His heart was no longer beating, he was cold to the touch – he died.

Of course, the family is going to keep looking for him. For now, they have their hands full with the fall of the Minor Family, the undoubtedly hundreds of people dead in their home. Kinn will need time to adjust to his new position because despite what he likes to perhaps believe, he never made decisions. They were all whispered to him by his father.

Eventually though, they will come for him.

His cousin might even think otherwise but that is because he is soft-hearted and that is going to be his downfall. He too will in time come to learn he needs Vegas.

Their family has been in power for a long time and that has lulled them into false sense of security. They think they are bigger and better by default; they think it’s always going to be that way.

Vegas chuckles to himself, he knows better. It’s not the name Theerapanyakul people fear. No, it’s another. It’s his.

They fear Vegas like he is the devil and with him gone, people will start crawling out of their hiding places. The other families have been unhappy with the Main Family for a long time, they don’t agree with them having all the power. (He knows, he fed their anger every chance he got.) Sooner or later, someone will try their luck with stealing the crown. And there will come others after them.

So, let them come looking for him.

His father is dead. There is nothing for him to fear anymore. And besides, he is no longer alone. He believes Pete’s grandmother when she says she knows the world he comes from. If she has managed to make a quiet life for herself here, deep in the countryside, he believes that perhaps he can too.

It’s funny how things go. One day he followed his father into what was supposed to be a certain death. His only concern was getting Macau out of there alive. He never even thought about the possibility that he too, could live to tell the tale.

He spent his whole life up until now holding his breath, waiting. It felt inevitable that one day the knife would land on his back. He just didn’t know if it would be an enemy or family holding the weapon.

And yet, here he is alive.

When his brother left the hospital earlier in the evening with Pete and his grandmother, Vegas had promised him he would be there in the morning. That he wouldn’t go anywhere.

Macau had just looked at him for a long time before saying; “I know.”

Without him noticing, someone had planted a seed of hope in him and with those words it started to sprout. It started to seem possible that they could live a life where every time they looked at each other, they didn’t have to wonder if it was going to be the last time.

Then he had kissed Pete and the other had promised he would see him in the morning. Said it like it was the truth, like it was truly that simple. And Vegas had believed him.

He had watched the three of them leave his hospital room and his heart hadn’t beat anxiously in his chest. Such a strange feeling, knowing there is going to be a future and he is going to be in it.  

So yes, let the family come for him. They will not find him. They will not have him – ever again.

Perhaps he will send them a postcard in due time to let them know to watch over their shoulders, to let them know Vegas Theerapanyakul is going to haunt them for all of the eternity.

He is going to always be in the shadows. He will be watching when the Theerapanyakul empire eventually meets its end in the hands of another family. He will be the one to pay witness when their legacy crumbles to dust and their name falls from grace and turns into nothing.

He will be there when they lose everything, when they feel small and afraid. (Just like he did, just like his little brother did.)

Perhaps there should be a part in him that feels bad about it all but he cannot find it. After all, Vegas will always be his mother’s son. He will stand by and watch them burn just like she watched father beat him up and how the family watched him bleed.

And even if he wishes he wasn’t, Vegas will always be his father’s son too. He can hold a grudge like it’s a hand and he knows; he will hold it until the day he truly takes his last breath. All they allowed to happen, every horror they looked away from – they must pay for it all. And yet, no matter what happens to the family it will never be enough. It can never undo what happened to him, to Macau.

With these thoughts, he eventually drifts into the first peaceful dream in a very long time.  

Vegas doesn’t know it yet but this will be the very last time he is ever going to think about the family he left behind. In the morning, he will wake up into the new day, surrounded by a family – the one that really matters to him.

He will always be angry about what happened but he will not seek revenge. He will not lift a finger, not when it comes to the Theerapanyakul’s. They belong into the past and it’s Vegas’ time to look ahead and focus on the future.

When he is finally discharged from the hospital he will go to Pete’s grandmother’s house. He doesn’t know it yet but he will already feel more at home on the driveway than he ever did at the Minor Family residence.

She will show him the secret room behind the bookcase, just in case. The walls are lined up with different firearms. (Let the family come, he is ready.)

Vegas doesn’t know it yet but he is never going to touch another weapon in his life. (He doesn’t know it yet but the family will never come for him.)

One can’t run from their last name but he knows he can make it into something better. He doesn’t know it yet but one day in the future saying Theerapanyakul when someone asks for his name will no longer leave a bad taste in his mouth. Perhaps he will never be proud of it; after all, he can never get rid of all the death connected to it but neither can he ever wash his hands clean.

No. But he will learn to live with it, just like he has learned to live with everything else.

He doesn’t know it yet but one day in the future a young, scared, mother will abandon her baby at the hospital. Vegas will bring him home with him. He is determined to make sure no other child ever feels as abandoned, as alone, as he and Macau did growing up.

They will call the boy Venice. Vegas won’t hesitate to give him his own last name. Venice Theerapanyakul. The child will be the new legacy of their family.

He doesn’t know it yet but when the Theerapanyakul empire does eventually fall, he will only ever hear of it in the passing. It will be a peaceful thing, Kinn simply gives up the power and quietly leaves the city with Porsche. (Vegas will never find this out but they move to a small town near the sea and open a small bar there.)

Macau will graduate from school at the top of his class and go to university overseas. That was always the plan, to get him out of the country and then he would simply never return. That was always Vegas’ final desperate plan to get his brother to safety.

But now, things are different. His brother will come back because there is no longer anything to run from.

He doesn’t know it yet but when he comes home, he will bring a girl with him. She is going to be sweet and funny as well as incredibly smart. Vegas will nearly cry when he sees her for the first time because once upon a time, he never thought a day like this would ever come. He never thought he could meet the person his little brother will fall in love with.

(He will cry when Macau shows him the ring he has bought for the girl. His little brother will grow up and he is going to be there for every moment of it.)

He doesn’t know it yet but sometimes he will hear Kim’s song in the radio and he won’t turn it off. Just once he will search up his name online. Vegas will barely recognize the man in the pictures as his younger cousin. The smile on his face is real, instead of the practiced mask he had on in their shared youth.

Venice will grow up and he will have the kind of childhood he and Macau should have had. He will become curious and brave and kind.

Vegas doesn’t know it yet but one day the boy will ask about his last name. He will find himself saying that they were a family, for better or worse. He will not tell the gory details but he will tell Venice none of them were good people but they never had much of a choice in that matter. They were all, in one way or another, victims to their own circumstances.

And despite everything he will find himself telling good things about them too. Like even when Tankhun forgot how to treat people gently, he cared for his fish like they were his children. And when Venice will ask for a koi fish of his own, Vegas will not have it in him to refuse. They will name it after his cousin.

(He will never find out that his eldest cousin will name one of his after Vegas and another after Macau. That in time he will overcome his trauma, leave his room and become the most sought-after socialite in the country.)

He doesn’t know it yet but one day he and Pete will get married. It will be a small affair, held on Pete’s grandmother’s backyard. They will say their vows in the shade of the fruit trees and it will be the happiest day of his life.

They will get a cat. Or more like the cat will just appear one day and never leave. It’s a black beauty with the softest fur and sharp teeth. And despite how much it hisses at everyone, it never hurts anyone. It will curl up to sleep in Vegas’ lap and at a night it will sleep with its little head on the same pillow with him, much to Pete’s dismay.

Yes, Vegas doesn’t know many things yet.

Of course, he will carry his past with him everywhere he goes, he doesn’t know how to let go of it, doesn’t know where to put it down. But with each passing day his burden seems to weight less and less. One day it will all feel so far away as if it happened to someone else.

Things will be alright. He will have everything he never even dared to dream of.

Vegas Theerapanyakul will live, he will grow and when the time eventually comes years from now on, he will die of an old age – peacefully, in his sleep and surrounded by his family. (They will bury him and Pete in one grave and they will meet each other in every single life time.)

And perhaps most importantly, he will be happy every step of the way.

At the beginning of the storm, you lose yourself, 

and in the middle of the storm, you find yourself.

- juansen dizon