Chapter Text
Sun's father was a hare, and Sun was born in March.
“A March hare!” his grandmother exclaimed the moment he was born. “They’ll be madness in him, just you wait.”
True to her word, Sun's mother never had a moment's peace with him. From the minute he learned to walk, he tried to run, and as soon as he could run, he was always running into a fight.
He fought in kindergarten, in primary school, in high school, in college, and finally for money after he was expelled. Sun's appetite for violence was insatiable.
But it wasn't his violence that finally forced his mother to kick him out.
It was his other insatiable desire.
The desire to fuck predators.
He wasn't stupid enough to bring them home, but it was a small neighbourhood, and they skulked around enough to make his mother nervous.
So when she finally sat him down, he already knew what it was about.
He was a bad influence on his younger brother—a sweet little field rabbit, just like her. There was no madness in Sky, only softness. Aside from his mother, Sky was the only person Sun never wanted to fight. But what he wanted for Sky, he couldn't give him:
Safety.
****
The wolf flies out of the elevator.
What? Did he get thrown by a bear? Sun wonders.
Though, looking at him, he wasn't a particularly large specimen. Sun could definitely take him in a fight.
"Why do you have to ruin my mood first thing in the morning? You don't even know what I like to eat!" a familiar voice calls from the elevator.
Sun ducks his head, pulling the cap low over his eyes.
Bank.
"Don't come back until you find it," the fox snaps before stepping back out of sight.
The elevator doors slide shut, and Sun can breathe again.
Bank was here? Why?
"For my child," the wolf sighs, grabbing his head with both hands and spinning on the spot.
Sun studies him. On second thought he's kind of ridiculous for a predator.
The wolf catches sight of him and smiles.
"Oh, that was nothing," he says, looking embarrassed. "We were just filming something for fun."
With no cameras?
He prattles on about something else, but Sun stops listening, already crouching to gather the packages he dropped. The wolf accepts them gratefully— of course he does—predators expect deference from prey species. But when Sun looks up to meet his eyes, he doesn't see the usual condescension.
If anything, the wolf looks... stunned?
Embarrassed?
Was he...
Blushing?
Yep.
He was definitely blushing.
And staring at Sun's face.
Oh, hell no...
The fighting spirit stirs to life.
"Is this your first time delivering here?" the wolf asks. "I haven't seen you around before."
Sun remains stubbornly silent.
"I'm a talent manager," the wolf continues, looking him up and down. "I think you've got potential. Have you ever considered working in the industry?"
Sun hasn't, but he wants information, and managers tend to have that in spades.
"That guy who just lashed out at you," he says. "Is he very famous?"
Sun wouldn't know. He sold his television five years earlier, along with most of his belongings, to start paying off his debt.
"Not exactly a lead actor," the wolf admits, "but he's one of the biggest supporting actors around here."
He shoves the shopping bags between his teeth like an oversized dog before fumbling a business card from his pocket and holding it out to Sun.
"Taket," he mumbles around the plastic handles in his mouth.
Sun eyes him critically.
And predators are supposed to be the superior species...
"Take it, please," the manager says, finally removing the bags from his mouth and shaking the card impatiently.
Deciding it would be easier to humour the idiot, Sun accepts.
"Thanks again for helping me," the wolf says. "If you ever change your mind about acting, give me a call, okay? I've been in the industry for over twenty years. I can give you advice on anything."
He goes on to list his many impressive qualities while Sun waits patiently for the elevator to arrive. Eventually, the wolf realises he's being ignored and dashes off, calling over his shoulder for Sun to call him.
What a weirdo.
Nevertheless, for reasons he can't quite explain, Sun tucks the card into his pocket.
****
Sun had been working at Speed Express for just over two years. Hares were popular couriers thanks to their speed and knack for dodging security to make tricky deliveries. When he took the job—his first honest job, with actual colleagues—he made himself one promise.
He wouldn't fight anyone.
But Pong, his manager, was testing him.
"Let go of those packages!" the rotund macaque cries, tugging the boxes from Sun's hands. "Didn't you just work a double shift last night?"
"Give them back, P'," Sun says, pulling them back again.
The monkey refuses to let go.
"All you ever think about is stealing my overtime!" he complains, as though having a reliable worker is the greatest injustice in the world. "Go home and get some rest!"
After one final tug-of-war, Pong finally manages to reclaim the boxes. He gives Sun a once-over.
"By the way," he says, smiling in that way that means whatever comes next is bound to make everyone uncomfortable. Around them, the other workers noticeably double the speed of their packing.
"We're thinking of hitting karaoke tonight. Wanna come?"
"I think I'll pass," Sun replies flatly.
A unanimous cheer erupts from the warehouse.
"Come on, I'll pay," Pong protests.
But Sun is already mounting his bike.
****
"...I egged that guy on to go after his little brother."
Sun freezes
"Some people are just so fucking stupid."
Sun feels his aspects beginning to bleed through. His ears drop, flattening against his back, while his teeth gash together in a fierce scowl. He can feel his right leg growing restless, eager to thump a war cry against the ground.
Fucking stupid.
The words play on repeat in his head. Bank's fox smell mingles repugnantly with something floral and sweet.
Sun's teeth itch to tear his throat out.
Suddenly, he's back in that police station, staring at his hands covered in blood. The officer handing him the deceased's belongings, as though that was all Sky was worth to anyone—all he'd ever be known as. Just a statistic added to Bangkok's rising predator crime rates. Not a ten-year-old boy whose throat had been torn out by a deranged dog.
He remembers the posters covering his brother's walls—The Beatles, AC/DC, Nirvana. Sky was always good at English. He loved English bands. He remembers packing the posters away in the same box as his brother's blood-soaked shirt, sealed inside an evidence bag.
He remembers.
And he makes a choice.
****
Breaking onto the roof of the Dream building is easy for Sun. He possesses a collection of skills that aren't exactly marketable, but are nevertheless incredibly useful. He just needs some time alone to pull himself together and process what he heard. He doesn't expect to find a lone wolf already there, enjoying a cigarette, dressed in a suit and waistcoat like some alpha lead in a melodrama.
Sun looks around, checking for cameras. When he's sure they're alone, he approaches. If the wolf is looking for a fight, he'll get one.
Sun is in a mood.
He leans against the railing a short distance away and glares at the wolf, but the wolf ignores him.
Sun's teeth itch for a fight.
He finally works up the nerve to speak.
"Can I have a cigarette?" he asks.
The wolf's ears flick, but otherwise he gives no notice that he hears Sun, smoking his cigarette as he stares into the distance. As though Sun is nothing more than a howl on the wind.
"I'll just buy one," Sun presses.
It was a cigarette or a fight, he'd let the wolf choose.
The wolf drops his cigarette and walks away without so much as a glance. Sun is about to spin around and punch him when he feels them, the coins in his pocket. His tactics change immediately.
Why fight the wolf when he can demean him?
Predators could survive almost anything, except a prey animal putting them in their place. Sun throws three coins onto the ground, exactly the same way the wolf threw the cigarette at his feet. They clatter against the concrete. One rolls into a crevice and disappears, two baht remain.
The wolf pauses, his back to Sun.
Sun picks up the half-smoked cigarette and brings it to his lips.
It tastes fucking fantastic.
"Keep the change," he tells the wolf.
The wolf turns around, one eyebrow raised. Slowly, he crouches down and collects the coins.
"You've miscalculated," he says, studying the coins in his palm.
"Yes, I did," Sun replies. "That's why I let you keep the change."
"I'm charging you two hundred thousand for that cigarette."
Sun snorts, eying the wolf.
"Are you trying to get rich from one cigarette?"
Of course he is. When have predators not grown rich from the labour of prey animals?
"If you have the guts to buy from me," the wolf says, stepping closer— close enough for Sun to catch the scent of pine... and something else that makes his nose twitch.
"Then you'd better be prepared. The seller can set any price he wants."
Sun huffs out a laugh around another drag on his cigarette, but the wolf looks completely serious. Well then, maybe he'll get the fight he wants after all. He prepares himself to throw down, subtly shifting his stance to brace himself. But the wolf only says—
"Better find the money to pay for it, little rabbit. Or should I call you Mr. Two Baht?"
He pockets the coins with a smirk, pats his waistcoat, and walks away.
Sun watches him leave, his opinion thoroughly reaffirmed.
Predators really were all opportunistic assholes.
Unfortunately, one of them has just offered him exactly what he needs to get close to Bank. He finishes the cigarette and pulls Kajorn's business card from his pocket.
****
When Sun approachs the door marked "Artist Manager," he spots a lop-eared rabbit in headphones sitting on a couch nearby. He looks like a preppy college boy. As soon as the rabbit sees Sun approach, he jumps from the couch and pulls off his headphones.
“Yes? Is there anything I can help you with?” he asks.
“I’m here to see Kajorn.”
“Oh, just a moment, please,” the rabbit smiles. He knocks on the door, then opens it to announce Sun.
“Hey, you found us.” The wolf steps out, offering his hand, only to pull it back a moment later and draw Sun into a hug. Sun is so completely caught off guard that by the time he thinks to react, the wolf’s already let him go. Kajorn appraises him, but not in a lascivious way. It's almost... paternal?
“I’m so glad you contacted me,” he says, clapping Sun on the shoulder and leading him inside the office.
He’s studying a poster of Bank on the wall, some overly stylised perfume ad, when he hears Kajorn call to Sky to bring him a glass of water.
The rabbit—his name is Sky.
Memories of his brother flood into his head.
This kid looks about eighteen. His Sky would have been sixteen if he’d lived. But the world wasn’t made for soft, innocent things to thrive. This Sky just got lucky, while another Sky hadn’t. That’s just how it was for prey animals—a lifelong game of Russian roulette simply for existing.
“What should I call you?” the manager asks, bringing him back to the present.
“Sun,” he says, accepting a glass of water from the rabbit, who’s looking questioningly at him. Maybe Sun is staring too hard, but he can't help himself.
“Okay, Sun...”
Kajorn says something about his eyes and moulding his character, but Sun doesn’t care.
He cuts to the chase.
“How about that actor?” He nods towards the poster.
“Are you talking about P’Sunny?” asks the loper. “In addition to me, P’Kajorn also takes care of another actor. His name is Sunny.”
“Used to. You mean I used to take care of him,” Kajorn corrects gently. There’s something wistful in his gaze as he looks into space. “Currently, Sunny is being managed by another team.”
Sun doesn’t care.
“Do you think I can be more famous than Sunny?”
The loper laughs nervously.
“Well... he’s Sunny, you know?” he trails off, like that explains everything.
It doesn’t.
Sun doesn't care how far he has to climb. He will stand above Bank and slit his throat.
“I don’t know,” Sun says. “The fox I knew was named Bank Thanapat.”
“So you know Sunny’s old name?” The wolf looks curious, but not hostile. Clearly he holds no protective instincts towards Bank. Good. That could have been complicated.
Sun nods.
“People who can betray someone once will do it again eventually,” he says, looking knowingly at the wolf. The scene by the elevators plays through his mind.
“Do you have history together—”
“I’m here for revenge,” Sun cuts in.
Kajorn and Sky both stare at him like he’s just confessed to murder.
He stares back at Kajorn blankly.
He will let the wolf decide whether he still wants him on the team.
Sun is getting his revenge either way.
****
This is precisely what he tells the panel when he fumbles his audition, and, in a last-ditch effort, slams a knife into the badger's paperwork and tells him exactly what he'll do to him if he doesn't let him pass.
He gets probation.
Not for the first time in his life, these words spark joy, although the context of the situation might be different. Last time, a mongrel judge delivered the verdict. This time, it seems to have come from a mysterious benefactor who calls the badger just as Sun's about to be dragged away by security.
“I told you,” Kajorn pleads with the two dogs in security uniforms. “He was method acting!”
They glance at the knife buried two inches in the paperwork.
The badger lifts a hand when he finishes the call.
“Let him go,” he sighs, “and get me a contract.”
****
Sun isn’t sure why he follows Bank to the roof, but his instincts seem to guide him there, and he’s never been one to ignore them. They’ve kept him alive this long, with all the odds stacked against him, they're bound to keep him alive a while yet.
Bank is, unsurprisingly, conspiring with someone to get rid of him. Sun suppresses a derisive snort.
Bank was a jealous bitch.
Even back when they were dating, Sun remembers how bitterly Bank resented his little brother. The way he looked at Sky through the wireframe door that time when he interrupted them in bed. The way he complained to Sun afterwards.
Rational or irrational, Bank had to be the first and only. And if he wasn’t the first, he would replace the first. If he wasn’t the only, he would find a way to get rid of the competition.
Bank never saw Sky as a child, or as the younger brother of his lover. He saw him as a nuisance, and his death as the perfect opportunity to steal 200,000 baht.
That's all Sky's life was worth to him.
The phone in Sun's pocket dings loudly... and he knows he’s screwed.
Bank ends the call and approaches quickly. In a moment, he’ll round the corner and—
Sun thought he was ready, but he’s not. He needs more time. Needs to be ahead before he can look back and tempt Bank into hell with him.
A shadow passes behind his closed lids. Sun opens his eyes just in time to catch sight of the wolf from before stepping around the corner in front of Bank. The wolf from last night.
His stomach knots, and the memory hits him all at once—
“Have you found the money to pay yet, Mr Two Baht?”
“What a blood-sucking leech,” Sun snorts derisively, returning his attention to the script.
Whatever the wolf's come looking for, he's not getting it. Sun made a commitment to get into Dream, so he's determined to be on his best behaviour.
“Of course I am. I take care of the finances of this company,” the wolf says, smirking at Sun as though he finds him endlessly amusing. “How could I allow myself to suffer a loss?”
Sun ignores him.
Maybe if he pretends the wolf doesn't exist, he'll take the hint and leave him alone.
“Oh, I know why you came here.”
Sun looks up and catches the wolf staring at the script in his hands, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
It doesn't look friendly.
“You want to flatter me so you can become an actor here, is that it?”
Honestly, why did predators always assume prey animals were after favours, as though they were gods? The arbiters of who got ahead and who got eaten.
Figuratively speaking.
...Most of the time.
“It’s because you’re ordinary-looking, isn’t it? You know the only way you'll pass the audition is by flattering the person in authority.”
Sun's ears flatten.
He's about to let the wolf have it, but reminds himself he needs to keep his cool long enough to secure a contract with the company. And with an attitude that big, the wolf is bound to be someone important.
As it turns out, Sun doesn't have to make the first move.
The wolf beats him to it.
The instant the wolf lunges, Sun throws up his arms, barely preventing a broken nose. Kajorn's warning about protecting his face rings through the back of his mind. The wolf comes at him like a punching bag—but Sun's had worse. He'd been a literal punching bag for predator boxers for nearly five years after falling into debt. A few punches from some overgrown wolf in a suit were hardly worth crying about.
The wolf still lands a couple of blows to his face, which Sun fully intends to repay him for tenfold. He drives Sun to the ground and crouches over him, but his teeth remain human and dull, and his ears stay perked in playful alertness. His tail thumps lazily against the concrete, amusement dancing in his eyes.
They remain clear, free from the bloodlust that stains a predator's irises crimson.
“You have good eye contact,” the wolf smirks down at him. “I like it.”
As though Sun's there for his entertainment.
Bastard.
Oh, yes, Sun thinks back on that night. When it comes to a beating, he’s never once failed to return the favour, and no one deserves it quite as much as this smarmy asshole with his silver spoon haircut and shitty attitude.
“It’s me,” the wolf tells Bank unapologetically.
He stares Bank down, and even from the sidelines, Sun can feel the weight of that apex predator gaze.
“I thought up here was supposed to be a quiet, peaceful place. So why do I have to come across a loud racket like this?”
“I’m sorry,” Bank says, and Sun knows that voice. That wheedling, soft lilt Bank uses whenever he wants something.
“I happened to hear a strange noise,” he continues to prattle like a damsel in distress. “So I thought someone might be up here eavesdropping on my phone call.”
You mean eavesdropping on you putting a hit on me, Sun thinks. Go on, Bank, don’t be shy.
The wolf seems to be of a similar mind.
“Is what you were talking about so important that you’re worried about eavesdroppers?” He pauses to take a drag on his cigarette. “Or is it because it’s about you wanting to get rid of the new kid?”
Sun nearly bursts out laughing and bites his lip to contain himself.
Okay, maybe he won’t go too hard at him when they have their rematch.
“It’s just a misunderstanding,” the fox simpers. “I just want to play a little prank, that’s all.”
Sun admires the speed with which he can flip and show his belly.
“And I want to smoke a cigarette alone,” says the wolf, clearly done with this conversation.
Sun glances at the door, calculating his chances of making a quick escape while the wolf’s distracted. A swish of a long grey tail in his direction tells him all he needs to know. Making an attempt wouldn’t end well for him.
“If I knew I’d run into you, I would have bought more cigarettes,” Bank continues to drawl coyly. Clearly, taking no for an answer still wasn’t his strong suit. “Next time, may I join you up here for a smoke?”
“Do you not understand the word alone?” asks the wolf. He's frowning at Bank like he’s starting to suspect the fox might be as sharp as a marble. “Do you have enough brain cells to leave on your own, or do you need me to take you by the hand and walk you out?”
A moment later Sun hears the sound of retreating footsteps, then the soft click of the latch as the door swings shut.