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“Bah! Everybody gets a little overwhelmed from time to time!”
Tankhun waves a dismissive hand in Porsche's face, huffing at the sheer audacity of the man's suggestion. His little brother…have some sort of condition. As far as Kinn, Tankhun, and Kim himself know; Kim didn't have any sort of conditions.
“A little?” Porsche raises an eyebrow, unimpressed by Tankhun's words. He doesn't like being dismissed.
Tankhun lowers the lip-shaped glasses, looking at Porsche as he waits for the man to speak. He gives a simple, quick upwards nod that indicates Porsche is allowed to continue.
“Look at him,” Porsche says softly, almost pleading, “all I'm asking is to use your sources and to get Kim screened.”
Sometimes, albeit rarely, Porsche feels like the only levelheaded man around here. With Tankhun acting too eccentric and dismissive of simple complaints, and Porchay seeing nothing but his favorite idol and precious boyfriend, nobody seemed to realize the issue here.
_________
Porchay is eyeing Porsche suspiciously. The man hasn't looked so tense in…forever. Not after marrying Kinn and living happily ever after—with the occasional yacht ride.
“Are you—” Porchay is cut off before he can even finish his sentence. All of the tension is released from Porsche as he blurts out the statement.
“I think Kim should be screened for autism.”
Porchay blinks, a beat of silence passing before he slowly nods. “Uhhuh…”
Porsches stares at his little brother, “What do you mean “uhhuh”?”
Porchay pokes his spoon at his soggy cereal, “He was, like, when we got back together.”
“And you didn't say anything?” Porsche raises an eyebrow.
“No?” Porchay says slowly, “I didn't see a reason,” after some silence, Porchay adds, “I was the one who told him to go see a therapist and psychologist.”
Porsche deflates in his chair. So Porchay was already aware. How could he not know? Of course, Porchay knew. The idol he stared at for hours, interviews, songs, posters, edits. Porsche just groans.
“I mean…I thought we kind of…knew…”
Porchay says quietly, staring into the bowl of soggy cornflakes he had no interest in finishing.
Looking back at it, Porsche sighs. The fact Porchay and Kim had learned sign language and other ways of communication. Just in case Kim decided he “didn't want to talk”. Or how Porchay and Kim sat on opposite sides of the couch, completely silent, and calling it quality time. Or the big, soundproof headphones Kim had.
Maybe it was when Porsche realized Kim follows a routine every day. Maybe it was the day he left a meeting early because “There's too much talking.”
Kim's mask only fell when he was with Porchay. There, he wasn't confident and brash. He wasn't aloof or moody. He was just Kim.
Where he'd be clinging to the soft cotton of Porchays shirt, as if curious about the texture and finding it pleasing to touch. Kim didn't like physical contact. Unless it was Porchay walking up to Kim to gently rub their foreheads together like bonding cats.