Work Text:
A fluffy white dog halted and let out a low growl.
Sky, the owner, was taken aback by his dog’s outburst. “Cumulus?”
He followed his canine’s gaze towards a little blue home nestled on the quiet street. There was a luxurious car parked on the curb, and a strange man on his doorstep who rapped his knuckles on Sky’s front door. With each knock that filled the air, Sky felt nausea bubble up inside his throat. He thought his childhood home would be a safe space away from Bangkok’s demands. It turned out he wasn’t as hidden as he thought. He didn’t recognize the car, and he didn’t know the man who stood on his stoop.
Sky didn’t get a chance to run, as Cumulus barked. His tail wagged when the man startled. He spun around towards the noise with wide brown eyes.
“Hello,” the man greeted as he pushed back his gel-drenched hair. He flashed Sky a charming smile, which did nothing to ease his nerves. “Do you know where your neighbor might be at this hour? I have something important to discuss with him.”
Sky swallowed, his nerves thick. “I am the owner.”
“Oh, that is a relief,” the man said as he lit up with joy. “I am Prapai Theerapanyakul of Theerapanyakul Entertainment. Have heard of us?”
Sky scoffed as he walked up to his front door. “I have.”
Theerapanyakul Entertainment was a mass media conglomerate which towered over Thailand’s arts industry as the beacon of cultural power. Whenever Sky checked the news, the company’s latest project was plastered across sites with exaggerated headlines. The last time he checked there was quite a stir as Prapai, one of long-standing CEO Vegas’ many nephews, officially joined the family business as an aspiring director who wished to expand the Theerapanyakul reach into film production.
“Great,” Prapai beamed. “This makes everything easier.”
Sky quirked an eyebrow, but his heart stopped when he saw what Prapai presented.
“I was in the airport when I saw this among the magazines,” Prapai said as he pointed toward his copy of Sky’s novel Eye of the Storm. “I read it to pass the time, but I couldn’t put it down so I brought it on the flight with me. It felt so raw, so real to other romances I’ve read. I knew I wanted it to my first project.”
A scream boiled to the roof of Sky’s mouth, but he kept a lid on it.
Eye of the Storm was the third of Sky’s three novels, and the only one he owned. It was the only reason he published it, because he didn’t have anything else. It was all for nothing. Eye of the Storm was a commercial failure without a literary agent. Now, he learned it was nothing more but side table amusement for those bored in airports. Toilet paper would’ve been a more respectable fate. Even more respectable than this overgrown mutt of a man who wanted to adapt it for the screen.
“I thought companies were interested in adapting popular books,” Sky said.
Prapai shook his head, “I want to adapt this one. I contacted your old publishing company with the offer, but they told me they didn’t have the rights. I tried to contact you through other means but I couldn’t find anything.” Prapai glanced around the quaint neighborhood, “It was difficult to find you.”
Sky felt his eye twitch. “I'm sorry you came all this way for nothing.” He fumbled for his house keys as he shouldered his way to his front door. Cumulus sniffed at Prapai’s fancy clothes. “Now, if you would excuse us-”
“Wait,” Prapai called.
Sky paused, and looked back at him with a side-eye.
“This is the one with my notes,” Prapai said as he ran his hand along the multicolored post-it notes which poked out of the pages. “Just flip through, and if you don't like it then leave it at the front desk at the Tatiphop Hotel.”
With a glare, Sky swiped the book before he slammed the door in Prapai’s face.
“He slammed the door in my face,” Prapai complained as he talked into his earpiece. He was back in his hotel room. “I thought he would be more receptive, but he looked like he wanted to kill me. His dog is cute though.” On the other end of the line, the person he was on call with was silent. “Namtan?”
“Khun Prapai,” Namtan, his long suffering secretary, responded with her calm measured voice. “The board sent me an email about your potential project. They want you to reconsider adapting Eye of the Storm. You should consider it.”
“What?” Prapai asked, shock evident in his voice. “Namtan, you were excited too.”
Namtan sighed, “I agree the novel is beautifully written, but the board learned the author has a tumultuous reputation.”
Prapai thought about his meeting with Sky with confusion. “He is a little prickly, but I wouldn’t call our conversation tumultuous.”
Namtan sighed, “I sent you an email with the articles they dragged up. I suggest you take a look before you proceed any further.”
Prapai frowned as he booted up his laptop. He scrolled through his emails until he found the one Namtan forwarded, and stared at the links provided. The first link opened up to an article, and the headline sent his eyebrows up in shock as he read the headline.
Promising Young Actor Found Dead in His Home Following Divorce Proceedings
Prapai blinked, before he read the article proper. It talked about a young actor named Gun, which pinged a memory in Prapai’s mind. He met the actor before, at an event a while back his parents hosted. It was brief, a simple introduction, but it was a little haunting Prapai met someone dead by their own hand. He read the article further. The journalist wrote about Gun’s acting career up until that point, with several titles Prapai recognized as well-loved movies and series. It talked about one of Gun’s friends found his body with a gun in his hand. The police ruled it as a suicide despite there being no suicide note on the premises, but fans didn’t need one as Gun died shortly after the courts awarded his ex-husband, author Sky, a divorce Gun contested.
Prapai gulped as he exited out, and clicked on the next link.
Rising Actor Gun Denies Domestic Violence Allegations from Author Husband
Prapai exited out of the tab faster than he clicked into it, as his mind raced with new possibilities about Sky’s waspish nature. He clicked through the other links, each headline more sensationalized than the last, but every other one stated the same thing.
Sky was married to Gun. Sky went through a highly publicized contested divorce due to domestic abuse allegations which he won. Gun committed suicide shortly after, and any good will Sky obtained was obliterated overnight.
Prapai thought back to his meeting with Sky’s old publishing house, and the way they pushed him to the two other novels Sky wrote when they realized he was asking about the third one. They dropped Sky when the heat got tough, and now got to hand out the film rights to his books he owned without Sky seeing a single baht.
Prapai grew up around great love stories. The tale of his parents and his uncles were upheld as power couples in the industry, and influenced many pieces of art. The romance genre always bored Prapai for this reason, as the odd tropes could never compare to the reality he saw everyday.
He picked up Eye of the Storm as a fluke, as he had forgotten to charge his work laptop the night before, but one chapter in and he was hooked. Sky could mix humanity into his character while maintaining their narrative purpose, and the contrast between the harrowing realities of an abusive marriage with the hopeful blossoming romance between Torn and Cane. He loved the moral quandaries the characters faced. Cane, a lawyer determined to give his client justice, fell for the protagonist but couldn’t breach trust as a figurehead of the law and would never forgive himself if forced his feelings on someone in a vulnerable position. Torn, the protagonist seeking lawful refuge from domestic violence, agonized in the middle of a media circus as an imperfect victim who couldn’t let anyone else in again after being beaten down by love.
The one thing Prapai could never forget was the ending, when Cane visited Torn months after at the new divorcee’s private dwelling and they finally agreed to give this relationship a new chance. It ended with a simply kiss, the text suddenly handwritten before the reader flipped through blank pages with ink splatters before it arrived at the ending author’s note. Prapai loved how Sky let Torn’s new relationship develop in peace, outside of the spectacle his previous relationship turned into for the rest of the story. It was too beautiful to be kept on page.
Perhaps the knowledge Sky wrote from his own experience should haunt Prapai, the way he didn’t know where Torn ended and Sky began. It didn’t scare him like he knew the board and his secretary thought it would. It only enhanced the novel in Prapai’s eyes, and he was even more determined to get it on a screen. The public deserved to see a hopeful story from someone who went through such pain but wrote a happy ending.
“Namtan, how long have you-?”
“I tried to contact you earlier,” Namtan said. “I suppose you were already out.” At Prapai’s silence, she continued. “I have compiled other novels with a similar message-”
“No,” Prapai said.
“Prapai. The board-”
“The board works for me,” Prapai said. “Namtan, I believe in Eye of the Storm.”
Namtan sighed, “It is going to be an uphill battle.”
“I don’t care,” Prapai said. “I will make it happen.”
Inside a café, Sky sat with the note covered novel.
Wind chimes clinked together as the café door open. A rich suffocating cologne invaded Sky’s space, sharply clashed with the cafe’s coffee beans and woodsy aromas, as Prapai sat down across from him. The buttons of his silk red dress shirt were popped at the top, and it contrasted with Sky’s comfy thread-bare cloud patterned sweater. Sky was relieved the only other person in the building was the teenage barista, as anyone who saw them might mistake them for a sugar baby and his rich benefactor.
“Sky!” Prapai greeted with a cheery voice. “I’m glad you decided to meet with me.”
“I read your notes.” Sky tapped the top of the novel. “I will admit, you have a vision.”
Prapai preened, “Thank you.”
“To be clear, I would not have discussed this possibility further if it wasn’t for the financial incentive,” Sky told him.
The author watched as Prapai’s demeanor faltered. He refused to lay himself bare for the stranger, but he wasn’t going to give the aspiring director false ideas. Sky exploring this possibility was anything other than his bank account running low the past few years. In the past, Sky would have felt guilty for his coldness, but present Sky wasn’t above milking a rich man dry if it meant an easier life away from his nation’s capital.
“If I let you adapt my novel, I have a few conditions,” Sky said.
Prapai blinked, “Alright. What do you want?”
“First, I need a percentage of all the profits from now until it stops making money,” Sky said. “When I say all profits, I mean all profits from the show to any and all merchandise. It doesn’t have to be the same percentage for every aspect, but I’ll need at least five to ten percent.” With no protest from the businessman, Sky continued. “My second condition is you’ll remain as close to the source material-”
“I thought you could work with us as a consultant,” Prapai interrupted.
“Excuse me?”
“It is your novel,” Prapai said. “It would be better if we learned about your thought process and melded it with my interpretation as a reader.”
Sky’s thought process was whatever romantic fantasy he indulged in to cope with the bullshit his ex forced him through that week. It was a miracle it was coherent.
“I will not return to Bangkok,” Sky said.
“We’ll find a way to do everything long-distance,” Prapai promised.
Sky narrowed his eyes, “Then, my third condition is you keep me away from the spotlight at all times. I will take my cut and my ending credit, and nothing more.”
“We can do that,” Prapai said. He extended his hand. “Deal?”
Sky stared at it for a second. He clasped it with his and gave a firm shake. “Deal.”
Perhaps, this won’t be such a bad partnership after all.