Archive of Our Own ^beta

Growing up in the Theerapanyakul family was a peculiar experience. At twelve, Kim's day consisted of all sorts of lessons: Thai, to mend his quietness; Mathematics, so he would understand Economics; Economics, so he would understand his future job; Public Speaking, so he would know how to lead a deal; Shooting practice, for when words didn't work. And Music, so his father could have him entertain his business partners when he was still too young to be listened to in another way.

At twenty-three, only one sort truly stuck. But while Kim -to the dismay of his father's soul- is now a full-time musician with no involvement in the family business, he still carries some habits he hasn't got rid of.

Take note of what's around you.

Beside him is Big, who drove Kim and his brother to the worn-out, nondescript pier nestled in a corner of the southern coast of Phuket first thing in the morning. There are dark circles under his eyes, and he's already smoked through three cigarettes, but he seems more annoyed than worried.

The road that leads to the pier is mostly empty in a way that is rare to see even this early in the season. There are a few old houses on both sides of it, clearly owned by locals who have been on the island for many generations. Three skippers and a couple of small fishing boats are docked to the pier.

Standing on the first wooden planks is Kinn, dressed in a cream-colored loose set that is probably the most casual thing he owns. Which is still a ridiculous outfit to wear to go sailing. But then again, when has Kinn ever felt the need to be on a boat that wasn't a yacht?

Kim hasn't been on vacation with the rest of his family in nearly a decade. Kinn had called with his proposition while Kim was with his manager, who basically forced him to accept in hopes to get back a more mellowed out version of Kim in time for tour preparations. Futile dreams.

In the end, Kim, Tankhun and about half a dozen bodyguards had joined Kinn in one of the family hotels two days before. And now they were doing activities, apparently, because Kinn found someone that would take them on a wonderful, exclusive sailing trip around the island, no yes I'm serious Kim, oh c'mon it's only two in the morning, no no I'm not drunk, well I own the hotel Kim getting the keys to your room is quite easy!

Then, after nearly twenty-five minutes of waiting, there is Porsche. Kim takes one look at him and understands what the selling point of this scam is.

Porsche is fit and tan and gorgeous, which works wonderfully with a weak man such as Kim's brother.

"Sorry for the wait!"

Kim feels a sense of dread crawl up his spine at the way Kinn struts to the newcomer, taking off his sunglasses. He shoots a look to Big.

Please don't leave me alone with these two.

All he gets back is a frown and a puff of smoke.

"This is your brother?" Asks Porsche, forcing Kim to look at him. He's tall, almost as much as Kinn, dressed in simple blue shorts and a white t-shirt, worn and a little see-through. He extends a hand to Kim. "I'm Porsche."

I know. "Kim," he offers. He holds Porsche's hand just long enough to be polite, feeling the callouses on his palm. Where had they met again? Didn't Kinn mention something about a bar?

Kim has to admit, it's rare for him to end up in a situation he knows so little about. It's making him nervous.

What doesn't help is the look that Porsche gives him after letting go of Kim's hand, a slight twitch of his brow followed by a smile. It's a great smile. Must works wonders with tourists.

"Well Kim, have you ever been sailing?" Asks Porsche as he climbs the wooden stairs that lead to the pier. He pulls out a phone from his back pocket and turns around to make sure they're following. He looks down to the screen enough to start a call. As he waits for the other person to answer, he points to Big, who's working the end of another cigarette. "Is your driver coming as well?"

Kinn unfortunately confirms that no, it's just going to be the three of them. Wonderful.

Kim is already considering how long he has to be on the boat for before it's socially acceptable to throw himself overboard.

"Chay!" Porsche pulls his sunglasses from the collar of his shirt, resuming his walk down the pier as he talks on the phone. "Where are you? I need my copilot. No, I really do! Hurry up!"

Kim almost sighs in relief. Kinn doesn't seem bothered by the idea of someone else joining. If Kim being there isn't deterring his seduction plans, who would, really.

A moment later, the idea of a variable being added to this already weird day begins to stir a familiar sense of restlessness in Kim, but he tries to placate himself with the knowledge that Big is even more paranoid than him and he's probably vetted whoever works with Porsche as well.

A short walk later, they arrive to the boat. It's bigger than the skippers that tourists usually choose to go around Phuket, but still small for a sailing boat.

Kim doesn't know much about ships -his opinion wasn't taken into consideration when Kinn had acquired another yacht in the spring- but he can tell it was probably intended for fishing, some four or so decades before. While old, it's in good conditions, with a number of updates for its new purpose.

Porsche climbs on the back and extends a hand to Kinn to help him on as well. He tries to do the same for Kim, but Kim jumps in by hanging on a vertical pole connected to the roof that covers the helm.

"You can put your bags here so they don't get wet," offers Porsche, raising the cushion of the seat by the helm to reveal a compartment. Kim throws in his bag, keeping his phone and a towel before moving to the front of the deck. Where the boat tapers off to its prow there's a pair of cushions, meant for people to lay on and tan.

Kim sits down and crosses his legs, looking at the water. This part of the coast is quiet, no smell of gasoline to turn his nose. He can see a school of fish swim around the stilts of the pier. The rocking of the boat is unfamiliar, but calming.

Kinn is saying something dumb to impress Porsche, standing by him as the other checks that everything is ready for the journey. He's already lost a button on his pretentious shirt.

"Not a lot of wind today," comments Kim.

"Oh don't worry, we have an engine as well," reassures Porsche. Kim watches as the man loses his slippers and goes to untangle the rope that keeps the boat to the pier, then goes back to the helm to turn on said engine.

Porsche pulls out his phone, checking the time, then looks to the base of the pier. He smiles and brings a hand to his mouth, cupping it to carry his voice. "We're leaving!"

A second later Kim notices the person running down the pier. They're carrying a white guitar case on their back, which jostles from side to side in a way that almost makes Kim wince.

It's a boy, wearing an old band t-shirt and what look like cheap soccer shorts. His face is red and dripping with sweat from the run, curling around a face with soft features.

"Hia! You didn't-"

Porsche reaches to get the guitar case from his hands. "Hush, get the anchor," he says, placing the guitar in another compartment.

Still panting, the boy jumps on the boat and starts to pull at the rope on the left side.

"This is my brother Porchay," introduces Porsche, leaning on the screen that protects the helm with a smile. "He likes to sleep in."

"Oi!" Comes Porchay's protest, as he finishes pulling up the anchor. He hugs the wet metal to his chest. "You-"

It seems there is something he wants to say he doesn't dare to discuss in front of clients. He walks to the other side of the boat, making wai around the anchor to Kinn before looking in Kim's direction.

The anchor drops to the floor.

"Chay!"

Porsche grabs his brother's arm to check he didn't hurt himself, but fortunately it seems the boy's feet are safe. Porchay scrambles to pick up the anchor and set it aside, stuttering through an apology as he flails around the mast.

Porsche sends him that same weird look. Kim suspects the sailor knows he isn't just some rich guy's little brother.

Kinn comes to sit by his side on the cushions as Porsche turns on the engine and pulls them away from the pier. Further out, the wind begins to pick up, offering some relief from the heat. Porchay climbs up to open the sails, following his brother's directions.

For some half an hour, they just glide along the coast before dropping anchor by a nearly empty strip of beach. Kim hasn't been in Phuket in years, and his memories of the place mostly consist of the family's resort. The Theerapanyakul yacht can't get this close to the coast, or this low to the water, so there's a certain charm in seeing the island this way, though he doubts this is much different than paying for one of the skippers.

Porsche lowers the ladder on the back of the boat and Kim takes the invitation, taking off his shirt before dropping into the water. The relief is instant, the cold, salty waves gently rocking his body. He swims around the boat, then closer to the beach until he reaches a point he can stand in. Pushing his hair away from his face, he looks to the conformation of rocks that hides part of the beach in shadow.

After some time, Kinn reaches him. He's now down to a pair of cream-colored trunks that end a few inches above his knee. How very Kinn, to own a fucking tailored suit and matching swimwear.

Porsche offers them goggles, and they swim around for another twenty minutes before climbing back on the boat to reach the next spot.

The following hours are spent dipping in the water and drying off on the cushions as they move along the coast. The rocking of the boat, mixed with the light chatter and some music coming from a waterproof speaker, are the perfect concoction to relax him.

He catches glimpses of the conversation between Porsche and Kinn. Porsche is a bartender, which explains how he met Kinn. (Handsome men and alcohol will be his brother's undoing). His boss is the one that gave him the boat. It's the sixth year he takes on sailing during the summer. His brother goes to University in Bangkok. He makes amazing Cosmopolitans, taste so good— ew, ew Kinn.

Kim opens his eye from his place on the cushions and looks for Porchay, in a rare need for sympathy. The boy is sitting in the shadow of the little roof, reading a book. He's placed strategically so that the music coming from the speaker covers most other sounds. As if sensing Kim's gaze, he looks up and startles.

After a moment of hesitation, Porchay stands and grabs something from one of the compartments. He walks up to Kim and offers a bottle of water, wet with condensation. "Would you like some, Khun?" He asks politely.

Kim realizes that he's actually quite perched. He sits up and pulls his t-shirt back over his head before grabbing the bottle. "Thank you."

Porchay nods with a small smile and goes back to his spot. He's all lanky, tan limbs, but he seems comfortable moving on the rocking boat, despite his previous fumble with the anchor.

Kim stares at him for a couple minutes as he drains the water, then dares a look in the direction of his brother. Kinn's sitting next to Porsche, now also shirtless after taking a quick dip. They are smoking together, passing the closed ashtray between them. Kinn is still flirting heavily, and Porsche's attitude is open, though none of his actions or words telegraph a true commitment.

Kinn says something embarrassing enough to forget and Porsche snorts as he kills the cigarette on the ashtray. Then he meets Kim's gaze.

"Are you hungry, Nong?"

Porsche takes them to a more trafficked pier, close to a neighborhood that's full of restaurants and food carts. He gives them a few recommendations on where to eat, both cheap and expensive places, and tells them he'll be waiting for them when they're done.

Kim spots Big at the beginning of the street, smoking a cigarette as he talks with another bodyguard. He must have coordinated with Kinn for lunch.

They are led to one of the family restaurants, an expensive but quaint fish place. In shorts, damp hair and a t-shirt, Kim is the one with the inappropriate outfit now, but their seating is private enough that he doesn't care. He orders a scallop pasta and chews through an insane amount of breadsticks as Kinn replies to emails from his phone.

Once they're done and Kinn goes to have a chat with the manager, Big offers to drive him back to the resort. He's tempted, especially after the wine they had with their meal left him drowsy, but he finds he'd feel guilty leaving poor Porchay alone with Porsche and his brother. He's the only one on that boat who could throw Kinn overboard with little consequence.

Big stops Kinn to discuss something else, so Kim goes back first, reaching the pier in a few minutes. He spots Porsche sitting by the helm, talking on the phone as he smokes. Porchay sits a little to the side, biting through the last inches of a sandwich, looking up when his brother reaches over to pet his hair. He notices Kim and stands up.

"Phi!" He greets, then half-chokes. "Uh- Khun-"

"Kinn will be here in a minute," says Kim, climbing back on the boat.

Porsche and Porchay stare at him for a moment, then share a look. Porsche turns to the phone in his hand and addresses the person on the other side. "Actually Phi, no need. I'll see you tomorrow."

That was weird. Whatever.

Kim goes to sit back on the cushions at the front of the boat and reapplies sunscreen to his face as he waits for Kinn. He watches Porchay scutter around to mess with different ropes and pull the anchor.

It's still way too hot, but the wind has picked up. Once his brother is back and Porsche gets behind the helm, they move further west. They stop by a quiet corner of the coast cut into stone, an arch that traps the sea into a small cave. The sun shines through from underneath, turning the water an intoxicating turquoise.

Kim looks to his right when he hears Porchay gasp, the sound echoing in the space.

"Hia!" He whisper-yells, pointing to the water. "There's a turtle!"

Kim would like to say he's never had much interest in such touristic attractions but. Well. Being a singer gets him in a lot of places, and very few of them have turtles. It'd be a waste not to at least look at the damned animal.

After some more swimming, it's a long stretch to reach the western coast. The wind has picked up enough to move tall waves, which the small sailing boat has no choice but to climb.

It's an intense, long moment of up and downs that almost make Kim throw up his lunch. Kinn tries to play it off in front of the unaffected brothers, but one particular wave yanks his head against the wooden edge and nearly knocks him out.

By the time the sun is on his way to set over the water, they've made it to a small beach with an optimal view. Kim's hair is mostly dry now, probably in an embarrassing state after facing all of that wind.

Porsche walks to the back of the boat and pulls the white guitar case from the compartment under the seat. The material is a good choice to avoid the water filtering in, but a few of the stickers on it are peeling off.

"You said you played?" Says Porsche, bringing the guitar to Kinn.

Kim raises a brow at that.

Kinn uhms his way around his lie. "Well, yes, but it's been… some time." Just fifteen years or so. "I'm a little out of practice." Understatement. "And I only know old songs!"

Kim already knows what's coming.

"But Kim knows lots of songs! He's really good!" Kinn even adds a pat to Kim's shoulder for emphasis, then pushes the case over his knees.

Kim sighs and looks for Porchay, who's sitting on the floor with his back to one side of the boat. The boy nods, giving Kim permission to open the case.

Kim carefully pulls the guitar out, running his fingers over the wood. It's nothing special, probably second-hand, but it looks well-cared for. Porchay must have used it recently, because he barely touches the pegs. The sound is warm as he runs a simple chord progression.

He looks up at his three-people audience. "Any request?"

"Can you do Bloom?"

Kim sees the second Porchay realizes he just asked him to play a Wik song. A track from his debut album, at that, something that hasn't been in any of his set-lists in over two years.

He's not surprised. He offers a smile. "Sure."

Porchay looks like he's going to be the one to make a strategic exit via water, after all. Kinn is quiet, but Kim doesn't check what kind. Porsche looks unbothered, if a little amused, already putting another cigarette between his lips.

Kim takes a moment to go over the notes in his head. He's not about to stumble in front of a fan.

Bloom is a song he's reworked multiple times before deciding it was good enough to go on the album. The melody had tired him to death by the time it was out, but he finds joy in playing it again now. He also finds he still remembers all of the lyrics.

He still hums through the last verse. No need for Kinn to read into what seventeen-year-old Kim wrote.

Once he's done with his performance, Porsche offers an quick applause. "You are good!" He says, pulling the cigarette from his lips. "You need to get your brother back in the game, though."

Kim looks at the sun to avoid Kinn's glance. He absentmindedly plays some more as he watches it disappear over the horizon. At some point Kinn has whipped out his wallet-cased phone to take pictures.

What a weird day.

Once the light begins to fade, Porsche directs Porchay to get everything ready for their return to the pier. It thankfully looks like the wind isn't going to pick up again.

As the boat begins to glide along the coast, Kim leans on the cushions, elbows over the railing, and watches the lights of the city turn on. In the corner of his eye, he sees Porchay approach. He straightens up a little as the boy raises his hands in a wai.

"I apologize, Khun," says Porchay. Now that the sun has set, he can barely see the other's expression, but his tone sounds sincere. "I promise I didn't mean to lie. I just didn't want you to be worried about keeping up the whole celebrity facade while you're supposed to relax."

Kim finds that… thoughtful. He offers a Wik smile and moves a little to let the other sit down. Despite the calm sea, the boat is still rocking.

"No need to apologize," replies Kim as Porchay plops down, keeping a polite distance as much as the space allows. He considers asking what makes Bloom Porchay's favorite, but decides to redirect instead. "Your brother said you study music in Bangkok, right?"

Porchay seems happy to talk about his studies. He's enrolled at Kim's university, which tells Kim that the boy must have talent considering what it takes to get in. Guitar is Porchay's main instrument for now, and he's considering taking piano as his second for next year, but bass is a close contender. He likes his composition classes the best. Sometimes Porsche's boss lets him play at the bar when it's a slow night — more because Porchay is still easing into live performing than because she doesn't want him during busier season.

Kim listens to Porchay go on a bit of a rant about a teacher who had also given Kim a hard time during his first year as his eyes move to the stern of the boat.

Porsche is driving with Kinn sitting next to him on the seat behind the helm. To be honest, it doesn't look like Kinn's seduction plan is going great.

"Does your brother like men?" Blurts out Kim. He resists slapping himself only because that would be even more mortifying. Thankfully, the waves and the distance make it so only Porchay heard the question.

"Uh… not last time I checked?" Answers Porchay after a moment of silence. He sounds a little uncomfortable. Does it seem like Kim is asking for himself?

"I don't like your brother," he adds. It comes out… there probably isn't a normal way for that to come out. Kim is tired. And now he sounds homophobic too. He sighs. "It's just… sorry."

Kim doesn't really expect Porchay to answer to that. He definitely doesn't expect the answer to be a giggle, carried away by the wind. The lights coming from an amusement park on the coast are just bright enough to see the way Porchay's eyes crinkle as he laughs. He looks a lot like his brother, like this.

Kim runs a hand through his hair, relaxing a little. Better to be laughed at than for Porchay to think he's a weirdo.

Before things can get awkward again, Kim asks about Porchay's admission test. The boy sounds a little bashful as he tells Kim he wrote his original song about his brother. He stays vague on the details of the lyrics, but he explains some technical aspects of composition that make Kim wish Porchay could play it for him right now.

"I never had formal lessons before, so I was a bit lost," says Porchay, his fingers picking at the hem of his shorts. "Hia wanted to pay for a tutor, but I convinced the neighbor's son to help smooth out my playing in exchange for math tutoring for his little sister. And I watched a lot of Understated videos."

Kim nods approvingly. "They're pretty good for learning the basics."

Porchay looks to the side as he smiles. "Yeah, you said that in an interview, so I checked them out…"

That reminds Kim of his previous stumble. He hasn't exactly been offering the Wik experience to Porchay, and maybe it's due to how much the day tired him out.

Even knowing the boy is a fan, talking to Porchay feels more like conversing with his classmates during first year. There is genuine love for music in Porchay's words, and a clear talent that makes Kim itch for some time together in a studio just playing around. Porchay seems like the type of artist to follow an intuition even if the first draft sounds insane, and that's how many of Kim's favorite songs were born.

Eventually, accompanied by the jostling of the boat and Porchay's eager rant about dissonant chords, they make it back to the small pier.

Kim peels himself off the cushion with as much grace as he can muster. There's a voice in the back of his head suggesting he should pick swimming back up to avoid ending up like this again. It sounds hauntingly like his father.

Big is waiting for them at the beginning of the pier, standing under the yellow rays of a light pole as he smokes a cigarette. A black car with another bodyguard is parked by the street.

Kim still feels like he's swaying when his feet get on still land. At least he doesn't stumble like Kinn.

Porsche says some polite parting sentence to Kim, but he barely registers it.

Kim looks away when Kinn starts talking about bars and drinks. He has a meeting with a shower and his bed, thank you very much. He meets Big's annoyed expression and shrugs, then turns around when he senses Porchay.

The boy is walking the last steps of the pier, holding his guitar case to his chest. He smiles at Kim.

Kim bites his lip and reaches for the front pocket of his own backpack, rummaging for a moment before his fingers find what he's looking for.

He steps closer to Porchay and bites the cap off the permanent marker, holding the plastic case still as he executes the practiced stroke of his autograph.

There is a sense of satisfaction at the stunned expression on Porchay's face as he registers what's happened, before he breaks into a big smile.

"Thank you!" Porchay jumps a little, then sways on his feet, still hugging the guitar case. He clears his throat. "Have a good night, Phi," he says, then huffs a laugh. "You look exhausted."

Kim is exhausted. He closes the marker and shoves it into pocket. "Goodnight, Porchay."

The boy waves at Kim as he moves towards the car. Kim remembers to thank Porsche as well. Kinn doesn't try to convince him to join their after-hour plans.

Once he's back into his suite at the family hotel, he strips on the way to the bathroom and takes the quickest shower he can to wash away the smell of the sea. As his head hits the pillow, he realizes he's been humming a melody. His mind is a mess of static that makes it impossible for him to remember what it is.

By the time he's having breakfast the next day, he still hasn't figured out the origin of the melody that's still stuck in his head.

He checks in with Big to make sure Kinn didn't get murdered while he was sleeping, then joins Tankhun in his suite for lunch. His brother asks about the sailing trip and Kim offers a few comments to satisfy his curiosity.

Tankhun moves to the balcony and tries to beckon him into the pool there. Kim looks at the small circle, foam forming on the surface because of the jets, then over the railing to the sea. They're not close enough to hear the sound of the waves, but Kim swears he can still feel himself sway hours later.

"Maybe later," says Kim, knowing he'll spend the rest of the day with his guitar. "I'll see you at dinner."

Once he's back into his own suite, he checks his phone and sees only a text from his manager with his flight information for his return in Bangkok. He sends a thumb up emoji and locks his phone again.

He grabs one of the guitars he carried along and sits down on the small sofa. The melody is still tickling the back of his brain, so he plays it a few times to try and jostle his memory. It feels familiar, but he cannot put his finger on it.

After replaying the melody for the tenth time, he sighs and gets up to grab his phone again. He opens the recording app and plays the notes, then sends the audio to his manager with a "Does this sound like anything else?"

It's only a minute before Bee replies.

B: Don't think so?

B: I'll have someone at the studio check it out.

B: Sounds catchy tho! Keep it up!

Kim decides to see where the melody leads him. If it turns out to be an involuntary ripoff, he can keep the song for himself, or ask the label to negotiate a sample deal.

When it comes to composition, he would always start on the piano, but there isn't one in his suite, and he's not having someone hoist up the one in the hotel lobby. He is not a maniac, despite what his brothers say.

He gets a hold of some paper and his pc to record. His fingers play the melody again, lingering on the last note.

Hm.

The sound waves flatline on the screen of his pc. It's been a while since he started a song like this, with no lyrics to guide him.

He plays the melody again, trying to get a feel for the vibe it could lead to. Does he want something bright? Funky? Sultry?

This time, by the end of the last note, he forces himself to add something else, but his fingers quickly tap out on the fret after some pathetic attempt at a coda.

Kim huffs at the ceiling. He grabs the paper and writes down the notes. He writes some annotations about the dynamic, tries to think of some rearrangement for other parts.

After scribbling down for some time, he gets his fingers back on the strings and tries out some of what he came up with. None of it sounds right, even with the knowledge there's room for much polishing.

He's stuck.

He's haunted by a melody and he can't do anything with it.

Isn't vacation supposed to be relaxing?

Kim huffs again and hits stop on the recording. It's almost an hour long, but he deletes it right away.

He decides he's allowed some lazing around, after all. He goes to lie down on the bed with his phone, planning on some mindless scrolling. His socials' timelines are filled with music content, some celebrity gossip and the occasional fan account Manager Bee approves of.

He wonders if Porchay has a fan account. He wonders if it would be hard to find out.

Turns out, not hard at all. Kim only has to go through the Music Faculty page to find Porchay's Instagram. It's private, but Kim has his tools.

The are a lot of pictures. Some of them are of the beach, beautiful sunsets and blue water. There's many shots of Porchay in his university uniform, hanging out with friends during school performances, strumming sessions or study hour at a cafe. There's also some pictures with Porsche, both in casual clothes on their sailing boat and in what Kim assumes is the bar Porsche works at.

Scrolling back, he's met with older pictures from Porchay's high school years. The kid was just a mop of hair and big eyes, already holding a guitar. Kim recognizes some of Wik's lyrics in the captions.

Once he gets to the end of the feed, which is a heavily filtered photo of Porchay at probably fourteen with a Porsche that already looks like trouble, he notices the ring around the profile picture.

For a moment Kim thinks he's going to see himself, but the story is just a repost of a friend's picture of two hands holding colorful slushies. There's no direct mention of Kim on Porchay's profile. It seems Big was throughout with the NDAs.

He should probably look for other possible profiles. He goes into Porchay's following list, but there's too many fan accounts for Kim to guess which one might belong to the boy. There's also some names Kim's familiar with — faculty seniors and some local bands he approves of. Well, one he really doesn't, because the front-man is insufferable, but he won't blame Porchay for being unaware.

After scrolling through all five-hundred names (Porsche doesn't have a personal account, but Kim finds a page that advertises the sailing trips), he goes back to the main feed of Porchay's page and opens the latest post, a photo of the boy sitting on the beach, wrapped in a towel and smiling over his shoulder at the camera. The caption reads "first dip of the summer!" with a bunch of swimming-related emojis and it's dated two weeks before.

Kim has to thank his years of media (and other) training for not liking the picture on accident.

Kim wakes up three days later still unable to make something out of the melody. He spends an hour trying to work on something else, but even progress on half-done songs is weak. He ends up on the balcony, sipping on some iced coffee as he stares wistfully at his notebook. He almost wishes for Tankhun to come interrupt him just to distract him from his state of commiseration.

As if summoned, his eldest brother has a bodyguard come to his room some twenty minutes later, inviting him to take a dip in the pool in Tankhun's suite. Kim goes with so little protest that Pol sends him a worried look he pointedly ignores.

The jets of the jacuzzi are beating Kim's back as he lets Tankhun's voice keep his mind busy. His sunglasses are doing a poor job against the neon green of today's outfit, but at least someone handed him a strong drink to go with the rest.

"Hey, what is up with you?" Asks Tankhun after a while, digging his finger into Kim's shoulder.

Kim shrugs. "I'm not feeling very inspired these days. Can't write." Before Tankhun can try to pry further, he adds, "I don't want to think about it. I'll be on tour preparation in seventy-two hours anyway."

Tankhun chews on some salty snacks, studying him from behind the mirror lenses of his sunglasses. "Well, you just released an album a month ago. No need to hurry." Then, Tankhun throws a chip at Pol. "Put on some Wik music!"

Kim sighs as the first notes of Only You rise from a stereo he hadn't even noticed. He stuffs his face with a handful of salted nuts and sinks lower into the jacuzzi, letting the streams bully the top of his spine.

His muscles are almost relaxed when the music fades, and then Bloom begins. His mind goes back to Porchay. He regrets not asking why this was the boy's request. Maybe if Kim heard Porchay talk about his music, the same way he described the song he wrote for admission, it would help him out of his slump.

He blames the bright orange drink that was handed to him as he texts Big asking for Porchay's number.

K: Why did you ask me to play Bloom?

P: ???

P: !!!

P: P'Kim???

K: It's me. Sorry, should have mentioned it.

P: P'Kim. HI!

P: uhm. i hope this doesn't sound rude.

P: how did you get my number?

Kim is sober enough to come up with an excuse, at least.

K: I asked a senior at the faculty.

K: I hope you don't mind. I've been in a bit of a writing block these past days and I thought back to our conversation the other day.

That's… maybe a little to honest. Not fully sober, yet.

P: it's okay!! :)

There's a bit of a pause as Kim stares at the message bubble appear and disappear a few times.

P: Bloom was the second song of yours that i tried to learn and i struggled a lot through the bridge so i guess i wanted to see you play it.

P: tbh, im not sure it was much of a conscious decision i blanked out in the moment haha

The last message is accompanied by a sticker of a bunny hiding behind its ears.

P: is the label already asking for new music? you just released a full album and youre going to be on tour all summer! they should let you rest!

K: Not the label. Just myself struggling with a song.

P: i see. if you want my opinion, i'd come back to it later. you should relax these days!!

K: You're right, but I get bored at the hotel.

P: phi works very hard!! but I'm sure you can find something fun to do in phuket :)

P: you know, i know someone with a boat…

Kim stares at the text for a minute, the sober part of him suggesting this is a bad idea. The Kim that had two margaritas in Tankhun's pool has a different opinion.

K: Ah, I see. Do they sail around here, by chance?

P: Full-day trips for the measly price of a small private concert. Food and drinks are included!

Kim has Big drive him to the pier the day before he leaves Phuket. Porchay is waiting for him by the boat, a few bags and his white guitar case already on board.

Kim thanks him as the boy grabs his bag, and goes to sit down on the seat by the helm as Porchay deals with the sails. It's another hot day with little wind.

"Porchay. You have a license, right?" Ask Kim as he watches Porchay climb down the mast.

The boy stares at him, squinting because of the sun. "Well, technically I still have to take it. But I look enough like Hia to use his." He waves a hand in the air as he moves sit next to him. "Don't worry, we're not going far today. No crashes, I promise!"

Kim snorts. He's not worried about Porchay's abilities. Not because he knows anything about sailing, but because he thinks Porchay isn't the sort of person to put his idol in dangerous situations.

Even if he tried, Kim knows about a hundred ways to get out of trouble.

Porchay gets them away from the pier, then turns off the engine to let the wind make over. They glide over the waves in the southern direction.

"You know, when I went back the other day, it still felt like I was on the boat," says Kim after a few minutes of silence. "I was… swaying."

Porchay nods. "Yeah, it's pretty common after spending some hours on a boat."

"Do you feel like this all the time?" Kim can't think he could handle it. It wasn't uncomfortable per say, but definitely an odd sensation.

Porchay laughs. "Sort of? I'm used to it so it's not as strong, and it usually only lasts a short time after I'm back on land." A bigger boat passes by them, and Porchay waves at the sailor behind the screen. "But I felt it more when I came back from Bangkok."

Once Porchay drops anchor in a nice, private corner of one of the small islands on the southern side, Kim doesn't waste time and gets down to his swimming trunks before diving into the water. The cold is a bit of a shock against his heated skin, but he quickly gets used to it.

He swims to the back of the boat, where Porchay is lowering the little ladder so they can climb back on more easily. The boy is still wearing clothes as he passes Kim a pair of goggles.

"You forgot your swimming clothes today too?" Asks Kim.

Porchay laughs, shaking his head. "I'll be with you in a moment, Phi."

Kim waits by the ladder, keeping his head under the water to watch the school of fishes swim around. After a moment, bubbles fill his vision as Porchay dives besides him.

They swim to the thin strip of beach, walk for a bit with their hands sliding over the stone, then go back to the water. Some half-hour later, Kim climbs back on the boat and goes to lie down on the cushions on the front. The side of the island casts a shadow over one half of the deck. Kim stays in the sunny part, covering his face with one arm.

Porchay comes to sit on the other side. Kim peeks under his forearm and sees he's busy connecting the portable speaker. He's already wrapped a towel around his shoulders.

"Do you want to listen to something in particular?" Asks Porchay as the ping of the Bluetooth rings out. He looks down at Kim for a moment, then quickly turns his head.

The sun is still half-blinding him, so he can't tell if Porchay is blushing, but it wouldn't be a stretch considering Kim is lying down in the least amount of clothing he's ever been in any public appearance.

"I'm not picky," replies Kim. "What would you like to listen to?"

Porchay puts on a band Kim's heard of in passing but never got the chance to listen more closely. The singer is talented, or they at least have a talented producer that makes them sound polished. The bass work is pretty neat as well.

They move on to another of Porchay's playlists, then go back for another dip. Dry off, dip again. Porchay offers him fresh fruit to snack on as they listen to some more music.

After another short swim, Kim climbs on after Porchay and takes a moment to look at the beautiful view. He grabs his phone from his bag and takes a few pictures and a quick selfie for Manager Bee. He watches the message bubble pop up immediately.

B: Keep these for Instagram xx have fun.

When Kim moves to the front of the boat, Porchay is lying on his front on the cushions. Their towels are wet beyond use after so much swimming, so the boy is letting the sun dry him off.

Porchay has really nice legs. They look especially long in the green swimming trunks that barely reach a third of his thighs. Kim can see where the golden skin begins to pale.

He must spend a little too long just standing there, water pooling under his feet, because Porchay twists his body to send him a curious look over his shoulder. Kim instinctively reaches for the white guitar case that conveniently sits at his left.

"Shall I pay my fee?"

Porchay moves the boat a little closer to the island, so Kim doesn't have to perform under the sun, then sits crossed legged in front of him.

Kim plays his latest single, then a few of his favorite tracks from the album. He plays Bloom too. Porchay mouths almost every word, claps for nearly a minute after every song.

Kim has never done this sort of private one-person concert. Even when Tankhun asks him to play for him, it's with Kinn or some bodyguards in the room. Kim feels almost shy, especially with the way Porchay's huge eyes are always trained on him.

After another song, he finds himself picking at the strings, the melody that's been haunting him coming back. He sighs. "Hey, does this sound familiar?"

Kim plays the fifteen notes he's been struggling with, and waits for an answer. Porchay listens carefully, then hums the melody a few times.

"Maybe?" Kim plays the notes again. "It sounds a little like the last part of Everything Falls chorus. The one from Thunderclouds? But theirs goes down on the third note, this goes up."

Kim holds out the guitar for Porchay. The boy grabs it and plays the chorus of a song Kim's not familiar with. There is some similarity, but not enough to call it a sample.

Porchay then plays the other melody. He looks up at Kim, his gaze lingering on his collarbones before he pinches Kim's shirt from the side. Kim takes the hint and covers himself.

"Is this the song you've been struggling with?" Asks Porchay. Kim nods. "It sounds catchy. You want to do a dance track?"

Kim hugs his knees. "Is that what you would do with it?"

Porchay shrugs. "Probably. It could also sound nice on an electric guitar. Sort of Dangerous vibes. Do you have any lyrics?"

Kim shakes his head. "Dangerous was more of a label ask."

Porchay giggles. "Yeah, it's a bit corny, and not the way Hold My Hand is." His eyes get big as he shakes his hands. "Not that I don't like Hold My Hand!"

Kim huffs a laugh. "It's okay if you don't. I wouldn't be offended, I swear."

"I do like Hold My Hand, it's the first song of yours I ever listened to!" Insists Porchay, determined to defend his fan status. "And even Dangerous is a fun track! Perfect for the club!"

"Can you even go to the club?"

"P'Kim!" Porchay reproaches him, but he's also smiling. "I'm trying to help, don't make fun of me!"

Kim joins his hands in a wai, then motions for Porchay to go on.

The boy takes the melody and brings it down, twists the end of it into something much more coherent than what Kim had tried before. It turns into a clean, fun chorus, but Porchay's frown tells him he's not satisfied.

Porchay takes the melody, slows down the tempo, adds a few notes at the start, then lets it drop into the abyss. It's punchier, and could turn electrifying with the right production.

Kim needs a piano. He taps imaginary keys onto his thigh.

"That's…" Kim tries to find the words to describe the boy in front of him. "You're sharp, Porchay."

Porchay smiles, hugging the neck of the guitar to his chest in a way Kim shouldn't find adorable. "Maybe a little edgy for a Wik track. But that's probably what I would do with it."

Kim wants to give this to Porchay. Clearly he's been haunted because he needed to get it to this boy. Whatever Porchay makes out of it will be so much more than whatever Wik could come up with.

Before he can voice his thoughts, Porchay has pushed the guitar aside to stand up.

"I'll grab our lunch!"

Lunch is a simple noodle salad, just spicy enough to have Kim sniff a few times. Porchay seems to find it amusing, but he hides his face in the bowl when Kim sends him a pointed look.

As payback, he has Porchay play his admission song. It's as clever as Kim had imagined when the boy had described it to him, though expectedly unpolished. Porchay's voice is sweet, carries Kim through the story of his little family with a kind of humor that's sometimes annoyingly youthful and sometimes too mature for his age.

It seems Porchay knows a thing or two about growing up too soon.

Once Porchay ends his performance, Kim notices the way he rubs the pads of his fingers to his palm.

"Not used to play without a pick, hm?" He comments.

Porchay gasps, getting up on his knees. "Pick!" He exclaims. "You're right!"

Kim's noise of confusion is ignored as Porchay crosses the boat to dig into one of his bags. The boy comes back a minute later holding a small box.

Kim straightens his back when Porchay hands it to him.

Inside, sitting on a tiny cushion, is -indeed- a pick. One side is wooden, the other is covered in brushstrokes of blue and white that give the impression of foamy waves. It's covered by a layer of resin, the small divots of a fingerprint marking one of the corners.

"Thank you."

Porchay smiles, hugging one knee to his chest. "My mother used to paint the paper for our birthday gifts. Me and Hia have made all sorts of things with it."

The pick in his hand suddenly feels heavier. He carefully puts it back on the cushion and cradles the little box. "Thank you. It's very pretty."

Porchay is still smiling, but his gaze lingers on the sea.

"Should we move a little?"

As Kim goes to put the box in his bag, Porchay pulls the anchor up and unravels the sails. They sit together on the seat by the helm as Porchay takes them to another spot, the one where they had found the turtle that day.

There doesn't seem to be any now, but the place is just as quiet, the rest of the boats favoring the other side where the caves are visible.

The water is deeper here. Kim spends a long time just staring at a school of fish move together around him, parting and regrouping as Porchay swims a little too close.

"You can hold your breath for a long time," notes Porchay, floating next to him in a moment of rest between a lap and another. Kim is sort of impressed by the amount of energy the boy has after so much swimming.

"Singer lungs," offers Kim, because he doesn't think it appropriate to mention the anti-torture training he went through when he was twelve.

Kim's hands are pruning again by the time they get back on the boat. Porchay offers him water and more fruit, which Kim takes earnestly.

He takes a few more pictures, then goes to lie down on the cushions. Porchay plucks at his guitar, familiar melodies mixing with the sound of the waves in the perfect lullaby.

Kim doesn't mean to drift off. When he comes to, there is a towel over his back, and Porchay is still sitting with his back to the railing of the prow, except now he's frowning down at his phone.

If he wasn't still in the process of waking up, he'd worry about what Porchay could have done while he was asleep. For now, he rolls around and stretches until he hears his back pop.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to fall asleep," croaks Kim, squinting up at the sky. He rubs his eyes and sits up.

Porchay offers him a quick smile, then looks down at the screen again. "It's fine, you weren't out for long. You should… "

Kim waits for Porchay to finish the sentence, but it seems he's not really a priority in the boy's mind at the moment. He does not take it to heart.

"Everything okay?" Asks Kim.

Porchay peels his eyes off his phone, and then he's meeting Kim's gaze with an intensity that nearly gives him whiplash.

"It's my brother."

Kim suspected. "Did something happen?"

Porchay sighs. "I don't…" He bites on his lip, looks at the phone in his hand, then back to Kim. "He's acting weird."

Kim knows it has to do with Kinn. He doesn't know what Kinn has done, and doesn't want to torment himself with any hypothesis.

He still comes up with two or three plausible possibilities. None of them would prevent Kim's title change from Beloved Idol to Creep's Brother.

Porchay hesitates, fingers picking at his cuticles. "Fans know you're from a wealthy family, but the bodyguards…"

Ah.

Sharp indeed.

There is a part of Kim that's weirdly pleased with Porchay's attentiveness. The rest of him feels cornered, and weary, because all the ways he's been taught to get out include violence.

If Pa was alive, he'd want me to drown you.

"I'm not… in the family business," says Kim, managing to keep his voice even. He hopes the towel is hiding how stiff his shoulders feel.

Porchay blinks, as if only now realizing what his intuition has revealed. He takes a deep breath, his eyes burning, glassy. "Is my brother in danger?"

Kim can't help but admire Porchay's fierceness, how he funnels his fear into this. He feels his shoulder drop a little with the knowledge that what Porchay is seeking is reassurance.

"What he should worry about is Kinn's horrible personality," says Kim, and means it. Whatever mess Kinn has made of Porsche, he'll make sure it doesn't cross into something Porchay should never be dragged into.

Porchay's gaze softens, and a familiar giggle escapes his lips. He nods. "Then I guess he can handle it."

Somehow, they fall back into the easy rhythm that had guided the rest of their day. They take one last dip and then sit by the prow to watch the sunset.

Porchay pulls out a bottle and offers Kim a glass. "I had Hia make us Pineapple Daiquiri. You said you like it in an interview…" Porchay stares at the liquid in his hand. "Mh, maybe you were saying it just because."

Kim doesn't remember the interview Porchay's referring to, but he does like Daiquiri, so he lets the boy fill his glass. The drink has the perfect amount of sweetness on top of the tang from the base liquor. It's refreshing.

Kim decides then to cut Kinn some slack. Porsche definitely knows what he's doing.

"Tell your brother they're pretty good," he says, as he tilts the glass in Porchay's direction for some more. The boy obliges, a proud smile on his face.

By the time the sun is touching water, they're down to the last drops.

"Are you going to be okay to take us back, Porchay?" Asks Kim. He's feeling tipsy, though not enough to have any significant impact on the control of his body.

In the golden light, it's hard to see if the boy's face is flushed. Porchay hums. "You can call me Chay, Phi."

"Yes?" Definitely also tipsy, then.

Porchay hums again. "Mh. My friends call me Chay."

Kim hides a smile behind his phone as he takes a few pictures of the sky. "Alright."

They watch the sun dip into the waves in silence. In the dim light, they share the last pieces of fruit before putting everything back into their bags.

As Chay pulls up the anchor, Kim texts Big to tell him they're on their way back. Then, he wraps a towel around his shoulders and goes to sit on the cushions in the front.

Arms slung over the railing, he watches the lights of the city come closer. The wind is in their favor, making the boat glide in the direction of the waves.

He nearly falls asleep again, but when he recognizes the little pier in the distance, he stands to go sit with Chay for the last minutes of their trip.

Once they dock, Kim puts their bags on the pier before jumping off the boat. Chay lands at his side with the white guitar case hanging from his shoulder.

Kim can see the lights of the family car some distance away, but Big waits inside as requested.

He picks his wallet from the pocket of his bag and counts a dozen golden notes.

"Oi, Phi!" Chay shakes his hands, refusing to take the bills. "No need, you already paid your fee."

Kim raises a brow. "I kept you busy on a day where you could have taken tourists around, I'm paying."

Chay sighs, crossing his arms when Kim tries to hand him the money. "Even so, that's way too much."

"That's what your brother asked last time," he argues.

"No, that's what your brother was willing to offer because he wants to sleep with Hia," shoots back Chay. "Let's not do this."

Kim blinks. "I didn't mean-"

"I know!" Yelps Chay, embarrassment catching up to him. "Sorry. I know. But really, Phi, there's no need."

Kim bites his lip. He looks down at the stack of money and decides to split it. He puts the slightly bigger stash into his pocket, then hands Chay what's left.

The boy hesitates, but seems to understand this is the most he can compromise with Kim. Chay uncrosses his arms and takes the money, then shakes it in the air as he gives Kim one of his fierce looks.

"This is your season ticket fee."

"I'm leaving tomorrow," reminds Kim. "But if I come back…"

"If you come back…" Echoes Chay.

Bangkok greets Kim with rain.

Manager Bee takes five minutes to inquire about his vacation before pulling up Wik's schedule for the next week.

The following days are a blur of rehearsals and endless meetings. In the minutes of idle between a block and another he finds himself scribbling down on the first piece of paper that comes under his hand, which often happens to be whatever wrapping his food was served in.

The melody still haunts him, but this time he has an idea on how to wrangle it. Once he gets dropped at home, he makes his way to his in-house studio holding the scattered notes of lyrics and chords.

The night before the first show of the tour, he finishes it. It's little more than a demo, the production unpolished, but it's there. Layered vocals into that dizzying chorus Chay had so cleverly strummed, singing about the heat of the summer, cold water dripping from his hair, from the melting ice in a golden glass.

The file is named Salt.

Kim doesn't send it to Bee. It's not a song for Wik.

It's Kim, at thirteen, going lax in Tankhun's arms after vomiting out the poison his father had put in his food to test him.

He survived, and so he can move on.

The tour kicks off in Bangkok. It's the biggest venue Kim's played yet, but he doesn't feel nervous, somehow. He even took a nap before Manager Bee called him to get his hair and makeup done.

By the time he makes it on stage, though, he can feel his bones shake with the volume of the crowd's screams. For the next two hours, he lets the energy from his fans guide him from song to song, until he's plucking the last notes of his encore.

He's still buzzing as he makes his way backstage. His team peels the layers of Wik off him, but the electrifying feeling lingers even once he's back in his apartment.

He should go to sleep. The next tour stop is just a two-hour-drive away, but there is always so much to do before, as well. In a few weeks, he'll have to take a plane for the international leg.

Kim takes a quick shower before dropping on his bed. He grabs his phone and sees a message from Tankhun - a photo of a live stream of the concert on the 60 inch TV with a string of emojis.

There are two more unread chats.

One is Manager Bee, reminding him what time he has to be ready for pick up the next day.

The other is Chay.

P: congrats on show number one!! :)

P: i might have cried watching a hold my hand fancam. i should have made you sing it that day

P: you'll probably read these later. go to sleep!! rest well phi!!

Kim stares at the texts and feels a dangerous warmth creep up his neck.

He opens the chat settings and blocks Porchay's number.

Kim barely touches his phone for the next two weeks. He's in his hotel room in Taipei, and it's late, but the show has left him tingling all over and he can't seem to shake it off.

He considers calling Tankhun, but even with the time difference he knows he'd wake him up. Then he considers going down to the lobby and calling a taxi to take him to a livelier neighborhood.

In the end, he does neither. He grabs his pc and launches one of the recording software. It automatically opens on some guide tracks he used for Salt.

Kim stares at the screen, then closes the software. He opens a folder on his desktop and double clicks on the song. The electrifying notes of Salt seem to hum to the same frequency of his heartbeat.

He grabs his phone and unblocks Porchay's contact.

K: Thank you Chay

K: Sorry for the late reply. I've had problems with my phone.

He's really not expecting a reply until the next day, but only a few minutes later, his screen lights up.

P: P'Kim!!

P: youre welcome :)

P: i know it is sooo late there, please go rest!!

Despite Kim's brutal touring schedule and Chay's own commitments, they keep in contact throughout the summer.

Chay is always texting him after a show. He sends Kim pictures of pretty sunsets over the sea, blue waves and every single flavor of bubble tea he tries at the new shop that opened a walking distance away from his house.

P: your brother is here…

P: i think hias getting him drunk enough for karaoke

P: phi… how dangerous is the video of khun kinn singing la lambada i have on my phone?

K: I'll make sure they don't bother you about it

K: But you have to send the evidence to me first

P: :) [file attached]

P: im going on a long walk tonight…

After some time, there's pictures of Chay as well. It starts with a corner of his face in one of the daily bubble tea tasting pictures. His skin is even darker now, his hair a little longer.

One day, he receives a selfie of Chay squinting at the setting sun. His skin is wet, glistening in the golden hour, the top of his shoulders bare.

Kim opens his phone camera and takes a picture of himself. His makeup is done, but his hair is still not styled, pulled back with a thin plastic band that picks at the skin behind his ears.

P: thank you p'kim, im putting it in the folder

P: NOT THAT KIND OF FOLDER!!

P: im a respectful fan i promise

Kim almost writes a dangerous reply as his mind supplies him with the memory of Chay's thighs. He mentally slaps himself.

K: I'm sure

P: good luck for tonights show

P: went fishing with hia today [photo attached]

P: going to make tod mun pla

P: do you like fish cakes p'kim?

Kim regrets accepting such a tight schedule because he thought he'd get bored. Now he can't find a single moment to plan a quick escape to Phuket. He's not going to be back to Thailand until the end of the month, and there isn't enough time between shows to fit a round-trip flight.

P: your brother is here again…

P: he told me he has something for me?? but then he disappeared

P: no offense why is he like that

Kim frowns at the screen. Not because he disagrees with Chay, but because he has no idea what Kinn might want to give the boy. He hasn't heard from Kinn since Kim called him to make sure he wasn't getting the Kittisawats in trouble.

K: If he offers you money just ignore him

K: If he offers you jewelry you can take it, but it's better if you sell it later. He has trashy taste for that sort of things anyway.

P: pls tell me i can accept the concert tickets

K: He gave you concert tickets? To see who?

P: …

P: phi…

K: Ah.

When those Wik concert tickets had gone sold out in the span of fifteen minutes, the label had insisted on a second Bangkok date. Since the tour schedule was so packed, the best solution was to put it on the tail end as the final show.

Kim likes the idea of ending it all where it had started.

The energy backstage is something hard to describe. Everyone is reeling from two months of intense touring, but they're ready for the last push. It has to end with a bang.

Kim is getting his hair fixed when he feels his phone buzz in his back pocket. He pulls it out and sees Chay has texted him.

P: we're heeeereeeeee

The message is accompanied by a picture of Chay and Porsche. The latter is wearing a Wik themed strip of fabric around his head like a sushi chef.

P: the girls sitting next to us are trying to get hias number…

P: HA! if they knew whose number i have…

"So, am I allowed to know who's got you smiling down at your phone like that?" Comes Manager Bee's voice from his side.

Kim sends her one of his Theerapanyakul stares, but it seems she has built resistance to them.

"And don't try and tell me it's one of your brothers."

"Just a friend from the faculty," supplies Kim, and it isn't even a lie. Not really.

"Must be a close friend," comments Bee. Kim is unsure why she's picking at him, but then he considers he never gave her reason to worry about any sentimental situation.

He had given her a few scares with guns in the past, when his father was still alive, but she had handled those well.

"We're on in ten!"

The call from the stage manager saves him from having to think about it too hard.

P: you did NOT just sing bloom

P: phiiiii my hia has taken so many videos of me crying im never living this dowm

P: this is the best day of my lifeeee

P: my voice is GONE im gonna need ten years to recover

P: goodnight p'kim!!

K: I'm glad you had a good time. I'm going to follow your advice and go sleep now.

K: Goodnight Chay.

K: Tell me when you're back on campus?

A week after his final show, Kim parks down the street of the student housing. He's meant to meet Chay at the bubble tea shop at four. He's early.

He could wait in the car, blasting the cool air until he has no other option but to face the afternoon heat on the short walk to their meeting point.

Kim stares at the red building at the corner of the street. Lessons don't start for another week, but a lot of students are already back. Chay himself stayed in Bangkok after the concert, sparing the money for two more flights.

Kim is inside the student housing building five minutes later.

Some habits die hard. At least he knows he can still pick a lock.

Kim could argue Chay is making this a little too easy for him. His name is on the panel by the outside gate, probably to make it easier for anyone delivering stuff to him, so he knows what floor he needs to go to.

The hallway is long, at least a dozen doors on each side. Kim lands on the fourth on the left, the one with a rug with music notes on it. Sure enough, there's a piece of tape stuck to the ringbell that reads P. Kittisawat.

There's the faint sound of music coming from behind the door.

Kim knocks.

There's no peephole, which adds to the list of security concerns he has about the place. At least, when Chay peeks out, it's through a chain.

"P'Kim?" Squeaks Chay, then closes the door. The music stops.

Kim has to wait some very long seconds before it opens again.

Chay blinks at him. "I'm not late. You're early?" He probably checked. "You're— I thought we would meet there?"

Kim just stares at Chay, which adds to the piling weirdo points, but he can't exactly help it. He's in a pair of linen shorts and a white tank top, which makes his skin look even tanner. His hair looks freshly cut, half damp, and there is a golden ring biting through his lobe.

Kim has missed him a little too much.

"Uh, if you give me five I'll finish to get rea—"

There's two steps between them, then there is none, because Kim has crossed the distance. His hand finds Chay's nape and his lips land at the corner of Chay's mouth.

It's a short press, barely enough to register the heat of Chay's skin. His mind catches up to his actions, but he finds he cannot move. Chay is pinning him down with his eyes.

Whatever the boy is looking for, he seems to find it. Kim is pulled closer, so he's out of the way of the door closing, then the tide pushes him back onto it, and Chay is grabbing his face to kiss him square.

Kim can taste the artificial mint of Chay's toothpaste as he lets the boy pry his mouth open. His hands go to Chay's waist, holding him as if he wasn't already pressed to Kim from shoulder to ankle.

It's a test of who can hold their breath longer. It seems that like this, Kim wins. Chay pulls back and stares at him for a second before burying his face in Kim's shoulder.

"P'Kim…"

If Kim wanted to run, he could not. All of Chay's weight is on him.

"Too hasty?" His voice cracks a little. He pets Chay's hips as he tries to laugh it off. "I've… " missed you, he means to say, but he doesn't quite get it out.

Chay emerges from the crook of his neck, and Kim is once again kept in place under that gaze. It's grounding in a way that should terrify him. He feels Chay's fingers flick the end of his hair.

"I never told you my room number…"

"You're going to give me a tour?" Flirts Kim.

Chay huffs, then bites his lower lip. "You caught me in a bit of a bad moment…"

Kim looks over Chay's shoulder. The room is half bare, most of Chay's stuff still in the open suitcases that lie in a corner. His bed is undone, with a bunch of clothes thrown over it, along a towel. The desk has some textbooks piled on one side, another towel thrown over the back of the chair.

Chay gives him enough room for Kim to side step him. The wall to his right bends to give way for a little corner where there's a rice cooker, a coffee maker and a microwave. There's another door that leads to the bathroom.

Kim turns around. Chay is his his space again, but he doesn't get to Kim fast enough to block the sight of his own face taped to the inner side of the closet door.

Chay is holding his head with both hands, so Kim is forced to look away. "… are those Wik pictures?"

"Absolutely not," denies Chay.

Kim snorts.

Chay groans, once again hiding in Kim's shoulder. "I should have taken them down," he considers against the fabric of Kim's t-shirt. "I didn't think you would come here."

When Kim tries to look to the side again, Chay huffs and raises a hand to cover Kin's eyes. Kim squeezes his waist.

"You smell so good, Phi…" hums Chay as his nose tickles the curve of Kim's neck.

"Can you let me look at you?" Requests Kim.

Once his vision is restored, he's met with Chay's flustered face. One of his hand goes from Chay's waist to the back of his head. The short hair is soft under his palm. He thumbs at the golden earring.

"When did you get this?"

"Wednesday."

Kim moves his fingers back to pet Chay's nape. Chay goes lax at the pressure. "Looked enough? I want to kiss you again."

Kim hums, and Chay takes it for the invitation it is. He wraps his arms around Kim's neck, and put his lips on him. Gentle at first, a slow peck, then longer, wetter kisses. Chay's tongue traces his mouth as he wraps around him. Kim can't remember the last time he's been held like this, if he ever was.

This time Kim's oxygen runs out first. He pants against Chay's cheek, and the boy lowers his face to that same spot where Kim applied his perfume. Kim kisses the shell of his ear.

They move like the tide, ebbing and flowing. As Kim leads him backwards, Chay kicks out a leg and the door of the closet bangs close. Kim laughs against Chay's mouth, and vows to find a moment to peep at the Wik pictures before they might get taken down.

At some point, the edge of the desk stops their meandering. Kim puts a hand past Chay's waist, flat on the wooden surface, which turns out to be a mistake. The piece of furniture slides left, and Chay yelps as he hangs with all four limbs onto Kim.

Kim's boot stops the cheap Ikea wheeled thing from running away any further.

Chay's arms loosen up enough to look down.

"Wait, there's a -yes there."

Kim presses down the lever on one of the wheels. Chay puts his feet back on the floor, then disentangles them. He's heavier than he looks, muscles hidden under his slim frame, and he was hanging on tight.

Kim wants him to hold on a little longer.

His hands go back to Chay's waist, and he guides the boy to sit on the desk. Chay gets on with the program fast, parting his legs to let Kim slide between his knees before they start kissing again.

Kim bites down on Chay's lower lip when he feels the warmth of Chay's thighs seep through the thin layer of his shirt. He drinks up the sigh from Chay's mouth as the boy hoists his knees up to cross his ankles behind Kim.

Despite the air conditioning humming over them, there's a thin layer of sweat building under his clothes and where Chay's hands run freely. The movement lifts the hem of Kim's t-shirt enough to feel the drag directly against his skin.

"I wrote a song about you," whispers Kim to the skin of Chay's neck, as they ebb once again.

Chay's fingers go stiff in Kim's hair. There's a long second of silence before Chay breathes again. "P'Kim, you're going to give me a heart attack."

Kim feared that crossed a line. He hides a smile in the crook of Chay's neck. "Please don't."

Chay hums, then pulls back until his back is flat to the wall. He keeps his hands on Kim's shoulders as he stares at him.

"Are we still going to get boba?"

Kim suspect the question isn't about Chay's craving, perse. He realizes he must have given a certain impression, coming in like that…

He nods.

"Good." Chay slides his hands down Kim's arms, until he wraps his fingers around his wrists. "We can come back later. Do more of this."

Kim is definitely on board with that plan.

"And you can make me listen to this song you speak of."

Kim doesn't get around to make Chay listen to Salt until nearly two months later.

Once lessons start, they don't see much of each other. Kim is trying to finally graduate while keeping an active career and Chay is very serious about his grades.

They meet in Chay's room one afternoon to tackle their own coursework, but Chay's composition exercise require him to take out his guitar, and Kim gets easily distracted, and an hour later all they have is a ridiculous riff and swollen lips.

Chay chastises him for derailing their session, as if he isn't the one reaching out to kiss Kim whenever he gets a little too close.

After that, Chay bans him from any study session, which leaves many less hours to share. They manage to have lunch together once or twice a week, hidden in some forgotten room in the Music faculty building that Kim stole the keys to two years before.

Chay asks him about the song during all of their meetings. Kim's reply is always some variation of "It's in my pc, I left it in the studio", but he never puts the file on his phone or takes the pc to campus.

"I see," says Chay one day as he puts away his lunchbox. He made fish cakes for them to share during the twenty minutes they're allowed in their Thursday schedule. "I'm starting to believe it was just a line."

He's mostly joking, but it's enough to snap Kim out of it. Whatever it is.

That's how he finds himself in Chay's room the next day. They're lying down on the bed, a breath between their shoulders. Kim has taken off his jacket and changed his jeans into a pair of Chay's sweatpants.

His phone is on the pillow, between their heads. He reaches up to press play and closes his eyes as the music begins.

The sound isn't the best with no headphones, but the production quality isn't the point here.

About thirty seconds in, Kim realizes he's stiff as a board. He tries to relax, but then that stomach-dropping chorus begins to climb. The hand that's about to fall off the edge of the bed grips the soft fabric covering his thigh, creasing it.

He thought he might get nervous at the thought of Chay being unimpressed with it. What's bothering him now is that he might listen.

"I like what you did with it," comes Chay's voice from his right. It cuts through the ringing in his ears.

"Mh," offers Kim, still trying to keep his breathing regular.

"I like it better than Dangerous," jokes Chay.

Kim snorts. "Yeah?"

Chay hums. "I feel it under my skin," he adds. "Going electric was a great call."

Kim opens his eyes but stares at the ceiling. "You started it."

"I guess," considers Chay. In his peripheral, Kim can tell he's also looking up. "It's also… moody, a little? When you go down in the post chorus. It's almost haunting. I like it."

Kim's heart has gone back to a regular beat. His feels his shoulders relax with the boy's approval. "I'm glad you do. You're probably going to be the only one apart from me that'll hear it."

"You don't want to release it?" Chay sounds surprised, as if Kim's guts aren't in this song. There's a flare of irritation building behind his sternum.

"It's different from your sound, but I think the fans would like it. I think a lot of people would like it, P'Kim," says Chay, and there's that fierceness in his voice that extinguishes whatever soreness Kim's brain wanted to torment him with.

Kim wets his lips. "The label would change it. They'd make me clean it up," he explains. "No point then."

"Mh. I understand," says Chay, and Kim believes he truly does. "Too personal?"

Kim takes a breath, but needs a moment before he finds the words. "Wik is a part of me," he begins. He stares at a point of light reflected on the ceiling, probably from his necklace. "But there are parts of me that can't be Wik."

Chay hums in acknowledgment. Kim is about to reach out for his phone when the boy speaks again.

"Is that why you blocked me?"

Kim goes still.

It's stupid, really. He's been raised better than this. He should deny it. Feign confusion, then double down on the excuse he used the first time. His Pa would laugh in his face at how badly he's giving himself away.

In his peripheral, he sees Chay turn his face to look at him, just a glance, before he goes back to stare at the ceiling. "Mh."

Kim can't— he doesn't know how to read that.

"Porchay," he tries, the sound scratching his throat.

"No, I understand," says Chay, and he sounds calm, but Kim knows better than to trust that. "I prefer to know," he adds. "Feels better, actually, to know I didn't cry for nothing."

Kim's head turns so fast he feels his neck protest.

Chay meets his gaze a second later, eyes wide as if registering what he said after it came out of him.

"Not a serious cry!" He insists, shaking his hand. "It was like five minu-TWO minutes! And then I was over it."

"Chay…"

Chay huffs. "Really, stop looking at me like that," he whines, the hint of a smile on the corner of his mouth, as if Kim's distress is amusing. "It's okay."

He doesn't think Chay would lie to him, but he can't relax until he feels Chay's fingers wrap around his wrist, touching Kim for the first time since they laid down.

Kim hesitantly twists his hand, and Chay reaches down to intertwine their fingers.

He swallows down the melting knot in his throat. "I'm glad you let me reach out again," he whispers.

Chay smiles, face inching closer to brush the tips of their noses together.

"Yeah, I'm not letting you run away Kim," says Chay. It's a threat that should scare Kim, but it only softens him more. "First rule of business. Regulars are precious."

The air in Kim's lungs exits with a laugh as he turns to be on his side.

"Take me out again after exams then," he begs, reaching for the back of Chay's neck to pull their lips together.

Kim's phone slides off the pillow to the floor with a thud, but Kim couldn't give less of a fuck when he has Chay wrapped around him like this.

Chay tilts them so he can climb over Kim's lap. Kim's hands find the back of his thighs, thumb brushing the skin under the hem of Chay's shorts.

"Are you sure you don't want to release that song?" Asks Chay after a while as he sucks on his neck. One of his hands is caressing Kim's hip under his shirt. "I would like to see you perform it."

"If I did, we'd have to talk about credits," considers Kim.

"For getting you hot and bothered enough to write it?"

Kim squeezes the soft part of his thigh in what is almost a pinch."I was thinking more for composing half of that chorus."

Chay emerges from the crook of his neck, dishevel hair and a smug smile on his reddened lips. "Right."

Kim sighs and pulls him back down.