Chapter Text
The box is entirely unassuming.
Not that packaging means anything. Kim has grown up playing witness to enough inconspicuous exteriors containing humanity's worst horrors to think that something is completely harmless just because it can fit in the palm of his hand.
On Kim’s sixth birthday a delivery had turned up at the house wrapped in dinosaur wrapping paper and tied with a bright yellow bow. Had security not gotten to it first, then Kim would have been the one to find the severed hand of Khun’s missing head bodyguard.
So the box means nothing .
And yet, it means everything. Representing the last remaining obstacle between Kim and his deepest desires. Dramatic or not, it’s the only way to frame it in Kim’s mind. A means to an end. A tool. A key that fits the lock currently strapped around Kim’s insides. Kim has been waiting so long for the right moment to take this step, because as much as he doesn’t buy into society’s twisted view on how one should measure the milestones in their life, this feels like something he will never be able to come back from. Things will not be the same once he goes through with this.
A stupid little box containing the makings of Kim's future. All that power in something so small.
He knows what’s in it. He was the one to buy it, after all, shrouded in secrecy and paranoia that Chay might catch him in the act. He’d had it delivered to one of his other apartments that Chay doesn’t know about, further outside the city. Then he’d had it ferried into the building through several bodyguards in the middle of the night and kept out of sight until he’d known Chay wouldn’t be home.
Not that any of it matters. Kim is pretty sure Chay suspects something is afoot. Just two nights ago Kim had been unable to sleep, propped against the headboard in their shared bed while Chay lay unconscious on his chest, and he’d made the mistake of opening up his phone to reread the order information. Just to solidify what he was doing, and know that soon, he was going to make his Angel the happiest he’d ever been.
So enraptured in his plotting, he hadn’t noticed Chay blink up at him sleepily, not until a hand appeared in his vision, reaching for the phone Kim was playing on, and a mumbled, “What’re you smiling at?” had disturbed the silence in the room.
Panicked, and about as gracefully as a drunk ballerina, Kim had locked his phone and tossed it aside. “Nothing,” he’d lied, badly.
Chay squinted at him, then over at the phone. Kim had wanted to prevent Chay doubling down on his interrogation so he’d simply blurted; “I love you.”
In a way it had worked. Something like realisation– or perhaps resignation– smoothed Chay’s previously suspicious features, before he had bullied Kim further under the covers and snuggled him into sleep. But since then Kim’s partner had started acting… suspicious.
He is clingy on a good day, but recently it’s like every moment they are in arm's reach of one another, Chay demands affection. He wants to pepper kisses on Kim’s face whenever they pass each other going about their days. He’s taken up a new special interest in Kim’s hands, toying with his fingers while they watch movies or eat dinner.
Chay’s new favourite position when they have sex is on all fours– a drastic change from his usual preference to be spooned or pinned on his back– just so he can link their fingers together on the mattress as Kim takes him, pressing sloppy open mouthed kisses against Kim’s scarred knuckles and moaning whenever Kim grips him hard enough to break.
Bizarrely, it helps. Kim isn’t exactly second guessing what he’s doing, he’d been planning it for months before even taking the step of buying the damn thing. He’d asked for help from Vegas for god’s sake. Kim’s made his decision and he’s sticking to it.
But it is endlessly comforting that Chay may know what’s coming and is already, consciously or no, saying yes. He wants it the same way Kim does. It’s exhilarating. It’s fucking terrifying.
This morning one of his more tenured guards had appeared and handed off the box containing Kim’s whole future, a grim expression on his scarred features, and Kim had almost been moved to tears the second it had landed in his palm.
He’s been staring at it ever since. It’s sitting in the centre of his desk, perpendicular to his keyboard and illuminated by his screensaver, a picture of Chay on a beach in Phuket, the sun setting over his shoulder and his rounded cheeks pink with his joy.
It’s been hours, he’s sure. Locked in a stalemate with a fucking box, elbows on the surface of his desk and his hands folded in front of his frowning mouth. It’s staring back at him, Kim thinks, it's probably laughing at him. Maybe sneering. Kim feels his lips twitch into a snarl of his own.
His fingers itch to reach for it, to pull at the delicate satin ribbon holding it all closed and expose its contents to the light of day. Maybe if he looks at it, just once, his rabbit-quick heartbeat will settle in his chest and this will feel less like the world is coming to an abrupt and yet beautiful ending.
The second he gives in to the impulse, he hears the jingle of keys at the front door.
It takes no thought to rip his top drawer open, swipe the box inside, and slam it closed again all in the time it takes Chay to beeline for his office and swing the door open with an excited yell of, “P’Kim!”
“Angel,” Kim greets, amusement colouring his tone brighter than he’s felt all day. “You’re home early. I thought you were getting boba tea with Ohm and Blue after class today?”
“I was, ” Chay sighs, bottom lip protruding in an exaggerated pout as he crosses the space and begins climbing into Kim’s lap. Kim slips his arms around him without a second thought. “But Ohm had a family thing come up and then Blue’s girlfriend organised some romantic date night for her so she abandoned me too.”
“I’m sorry, baby.” Kim drops a kiss to Chay’s forehead, nuzzling sweetly into his temple when Chay huffs a dramatic sigh. “Do you want us to go and get boba instead?”
“No. It’s fine. I just.” Chay wriggles until he’s comfy, legs either side of Kim’s hips and his face hidden away in the crook of his neck. “Blue’s in the group chat gushing about this really nice restaurant they’re going to and sending pictures of them all dolled up and– sometimes people in love are so gross , you know?”
“Ouch.” Kim teases, and Chay pries himself free of his hiding spot long enough to glare at Kim. He tries very hard to not burst into laughter. “I mean… Chay, you are aware that we’re in love, right?”
At least, he hopes they are. Kim spends three, heart-stopping seconds where Chay just continues glaring at him wondering if he’d gotten this all wrong. Misread and misinterpreted the very fabric of the life they have built together recently.
And sure, Kim’s perhaps not saying the words as often as he should , Chay still gets startled enough by them that often his initial reaction is to begin looking for whatever Kim broke, but he’d thought that it was pretty obvious. Written into every action and reaction as far as the eye can see.
Kim thinks of Chay’s fingers brushing the hair out of his eyes and the sound of him humming along to his playlists while he studies. He thinks of how Chay still crouches down to receive a forehead kiss before they part ways in the morning because at some point he’d gotten too tall for Kim to give them to him without stretching. There’s the scent of his favourite citrusy perfume that he’s started wearing because it reminds him of his mom, and how Kim will moan at him for never hanging up his used towel after he’s showered only to be met with a smirk.
On the worst nights, it’s Chay whose smile breaks through the fog of blood and screaming and his mother’s last breath rattling out of her chest while Kim begs, please don’t leave me, please, please–
Chay is in everything. Every inch and crevice of this home. From the Wik photos he insists on still keeping hung up in the privacy of their bedroom to the never ending stack of dishes because he’s a messy cooker, to the battered sneakers next to the door beside Kim’s boots.
Kim wouldn’t be Kim without Chay anymore. He didn’t even really know who he was before Chay, a facsimile of a person trying to do more than just go through the motions. Keeping himself alive and afloat through the medium of music and then Chay had come along and it was like turning on the light after years trying to see in the dark and existence was beautiful again.
If this isn’t… If Kim has somehow…
Chay starts giggling, and Kim is half tempted to dump him onto the floor. He tries, moves as if he’s going to stand and let Chay fall right out of his lap but Chay just clings on harder, arms around his shoulders and a whimpering, “No, P’Kim, please, I’m sorry!” in his ear.
“Of course we’re in love, P’Kim.” Chay coos, fluttering the lashes on his big brown eyes and making all of Kim’s annoyance slip away. “But we’re nowhere near as annoying as Blue and her girlfriend are, I guarantee it.”
Kim disagrees, and one only needs to have a conversation with any of their brothers to prove that.
“It’s just different isn’t it?” And now Chay sounds reserved, tentative, the kind of held back that means he’s overthinking. Kim’s rarely heard his angel be anything other than unabashedly open about his thoughts and feelings. Had been drawn in by that very trait in the early days of them knowing each other, how on display Chay’s heart is, worn on his sleeve like a badge of honour. “Theirs is the new love. The exciting kind.”
This time Kim doesn’t need to say anything out loud, Chay flinches before he can. “I didn’t mean it like that either, P’Kim. Sorry, I’m not sure what I’m trying to say here.”
Perhaps not, but Kim has a pretty solid idea.
“Go put your shoes back on.” Kim stands, depositing Chay on his feet and pushing at his shoulders until he starts to stumble towards the door.
“What, why?”
“Just go.” Chay doesn’t look too convinced about this idea, browns furrowing and eyes squinted in suspicion, but then Kim pinches his side, hard enough to make him squeal, and he’s spurred into action. “Quickly!”
Chay’s form retreats with a new sense of urgency, and Kim waits until he can hear him cursing softly and tripping over their furniture before he jerks his desk drawer open long enough to look at the unassuming little box.
Chay thinks they’re not exciting anymore, and Kim has plans to change that, as soon as he works out how.
“P’Kim are you coming?”
Kim snaps the drawer shut again, hiding the box, and his plans, from the world, and follows the sound of his boyfriend’s voice.
–
Given Chay’s penchant for contact lately, it shouldn’t surprise Kim at all that once they’re home from getting the boba he missed out on, their dinner plans get waylaid by fluttering lashes and pouted lips and wandering hands that all demand Kim’s attention.
Chay has many talents, in Kim’s opinion, but he excels in provoking reactions.
It starts with gentle kisses. Kim had been intending to get changed out of his public appearing clothes and into something more comfortable, but Chay had followed him into the bedroom, hanging off his shoulder like a limpet and pouting until Kim had given in and pecked him once, twice, and then a third lingering time.
Each little kiss isn’t enough, though. Chay’s bottom lip sticks out whenever Kim tries to pull away, eagerly seeking more and more of whatever Kim is willing to give him. It’s calculated, Chay understands by now the language to speak when it comes to the physical side of their relationship, and he knows exactly how to tread Kim’s boundaries without drawing too much attention to them.
Chay doesn’t reach for Kim’s belt, he doesn’t slip his fingers into Kim’s hair and pull him closer, he projects eager and innocent obedience because he knows it works. That the animal inside of Kim is much more responsive to a perceived non-threat. Kim is encouraged towards the bed by Chay’s shuffling, a little step backwards in between each kiss. He is the one to push Chay downwards when they can go no further. He pointedly doesn’t pay attention to the look of relief and smug victory as he crawls over Chay’s body with feline grace and latches his mouth against his throat.
And listen. Kim is only human. He is very aware of the game Chay plays, perhaps more aware now than ever, given the state of their relationship and the hidden box just a room away. It’s loud like a siren everytime Chay second guesses where to put his hands, or halts a movement with a huff of resignation.
The kisses get longer. Chay opens his mouth and lets Kim slip his tongue inside, the wet slide of it making him shiver. With gentle hands, Chay is guided up the bed so he can rest his head comfortably on their ridiculously fluffy pillows.
Chay gets a little braver, as he is wont to do when they start to relax into the act. As soon as it becomes obvious Kim isn’t going to flee like a spooked animal, Chay always gets bold. He starts sucking on Kim’s tongue with a languid slowness and his fingers rise, slowly and deliberately, telegraphing each move so Kim can sense it coming, before they settle at the nape of his neck and skate upwards, combing through Kim’s hair in a way that makes his stomach clench and his muscles strain not to vibrate apart.
This has always been by far the most intoxicating part of their sex lives, Kim thinks; Chay’s dedication to getting under his skin with the simple things. Since the beginning, even just kissing has become a weapon in Chay’s arsenal. Intoxicating and terrifying, is what it is. Like going over the drop on a rollercoaster. Or perhaps, more like leaping from a plane without first checking you have a parachute attached to your back. Kim loves and hates how easy he slips under Chay’s hands in equal measure.
He wishes he could love it a little more, in fact.
Wishes that he weren’t bred of broken glass and torn edges and a visceral fear of being known. Raised by a family that taught him vulnerability isn’t just frowned upon, it's lethal. It’s the stuff of nightmares. Many children grow up fearing the monster under their bed but Kim has been groomed to be the scariest thing in any given room, and you only keep that reputation if you learn to control it.
To control yourself.
Chay’s palms coast over Kim’s shoulder blades and downwards. Every muscle in his body tenses on instinct. Chay mustn’t notice, or he’s choosing to bully his way forwards– it wouldn’t be the first time he’s forced his way over a boundary for Kim’s own sake– as he keeps going, whispering Kim’s name over and over again between their mouths like a prayer.
Fingers skate his waistband, Kim’s insides light up in a beautifully horrific way, his stomach clenches as those same fingers follow the seam around to his front and begin to worm their way inside his jeans. Bad. Wrong. Kim shivers and not with excitement, cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck and he presses himself away from Chay’s touch.
“Chay–”
The phone Chay abandoned on the side table vibrates loud enough to startle them both. It’s not Kim’s, which lives on Do Not Disturb aside from his emergency contacts (Kinn, Khun, his manager P’Mint, and Vegas), it’s instead his own melody blaring back at him, the chorus to Complicated disturbing the otherwise peaceful cocoon they’d built around themselves. Chay’s phone.
“I wish you’d change that.” Kim grumbles, voice rough and trembling, but not for the reasons Chay thinks.
“But I like it. It reminds me of you.” Kim chooses not to look into that statement given he wrote the song and knows intimately what the theme is. Chay arches his neck to brush his lips against Kim’s cheek one last time before he begins to extract himself from their embrace. “I should get that, it’s probably Blue. I promised to listen to her love sick rambling once she got back from dinner.”
Kim hopes it’s not obvious how fast his entire body releases its tension when he realises he is free from having to combat Chay’s insistent seduction; the rush of it seeping from his frame leaves him light headed, and not in the fun way.
“I’m going to shower, then.”
Chay hums, rolling away and sitting up in one graceful movement. Kim takes a second to press a reverent, apologetic, kiss on the back of Chay’s shoulder while he scoops the phone to his ear.
Kim retreats to the chirping sound of Chay and Blue’s conversation. His high giggles and enthused gasps over whatever Blue is telling him. It’s familiar and comforting in its own way, the same way Chay’s general presence has become a balm on Kim’s existence.
Even after closing the door behind him, there are murmurs of delight seeping in through the cracks. It helps. As Kim plants his hands either side of the sink and considers himself in the mirror, hearing the undulating tones from the room beyond keeps him grounded in this place when he’s so at risk of floating away somewhere else.
He shakes his head, like he can dislodge the anxiety so easily, and flicks on the tap. Kim splashes water on his face under the guise of clearing away his makeup, but the cool rush of it helps his frantic heart settle into a regular rhythm and helps his lungs recapture his lost breath.
He breathes. In and out, like Chay has been teaching him. In and out. He rinses his face once more and pays special attention to scrubbing away the mascara and eyeliner, rubbing at his eyes until he sees blooming spots of colour in the darkness. By the time he steps away from the basin and flicks the water on for the shower, it feels a little less like he’s submerged and drifting away.
He shouldn’t still get like this. Not after all this time. Part of him wants to blame the box he is still hyper aware of despite it being several rooms away and hidden in a drawer. He wants to believe that it’s proximity is driving him to new heights of paranoia, that it’s the reason for his quivering fingers as he unlatches his bracelets and pulls buttons on his clothing free.
He knows he’d be lying.
The fact of the matter is that he has always been painfully aware of his own failings as a partner, and so has Chay. It’s arguably the whole reason his secret little plan formed in the first place, to bring them closer together in the wake of his flaws. To mend the ways he has and continues to disappoint his partner.
Stepping under the water, Kim is shrouded in the sound of rushing water, Chay’s chatting finally dies away from his notice.
He scrubs himself a little too hard under the spray, lingering with fingers over the slightly reddened spots on his skin left from a steamy rendezvous a few nights ago, the memory of Chay’s lips and his fingers impressed on Kim’s chest and waist. They’re barely hickeys.
At the time Kim had told himself things were moving too quickly to let Chay linger. But it’s an indecent and unfair excuse that is getting old and tired with how often Kim uses it to explain away why he can’t let Chay touch him with too much insistence.
It had been Kim’s own hands pulling and directing Chay onto his hands and knees, never allowing him the opportunity to sink his teeth into Kim’s muscle the way he clearly craved. Distracting him instead with his new found fascination by shoving two fingers into his mouth while eating him out until he was nigh delirious, saliva and tears mixing around the corners of Chay’s lips where he suckled eagerly at Kim’s digits.
Those same fingers now press into the ghost of the marks Chay had managed to leave before he was detached, like they might suddenly become more. Like he can write Chay’s devotion into his body hard enough that it will hurt without actually having to ask for it. Without having to submit himself to the mortifying experience of showing his underbelly to get it.
Stupid. Ridiculous. Kim soaps up his hair and chooses not to follow this train of thought any further.
When he’s finished, scrubbed clean of any incriminating thoughts and skin smooth from his evening routines, Kim slips back into the quiet bedroom, shirtless and with his sweatpants low on his hips. Chay is already tucked under the covers, phone in hand smirking at whatever social media or message he’s reading, but he happily tucks it aside when he spots Kim.
He immediately reaches up and makes grabby hands. The smile on his face is endearing, eyes sparkling with the kind of gentle affection that Kim still hasn’t grown used to even after all this time.
It’s like coming home again after a long stay, the way Chay looks at him, and rather than unpack the lingering fear that he will never deserve the devotion he has managed to inspire in Chay, Kim gives in to the desire to snuggle.
He lifts the sheet and slides underneath, obediently scooting across the short space so they’re lying on their sides facing one another and Chay can start peppering kisses across his face like an eager little puppy. He won’t stop until Kim’s cheeks hurt from smiling and he is batting Chay away from him with half-hearted swats. “Okay, enough, enough!”
“Are you sure?” Chay dodges another swing and get’s Kim on the corner of the mouth. “I could do this for hours, P’Kim.”
He tries to land another, one side of his mouth ticking up in a mischievous smirk that Kim can’t help but mirror. He catches Chay’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, stilling him. Chay’s entire face is alight with challenge, dimmed from the eager neediness of earlier but still warm and sprightly.
It seems like he still wants something from Kim. So Kim delivers something parallel to what Chay desires and kisses him firmly.
It has the same effect as grabbing a puppy by the scruff of its neck, Chay goes lax against Kim’s body, head automatically tilting to the side to allow for the slide of Kim’s tongue. One hand plants confidently against Kim’s chest, right over his heart, but it doesn’t move beyond that. Chay’s thumb traces delicately back and forth over the goosebumped skin, but otherwise, Chay obediently remains in place; a being made of reaction to whatever action Kim foists on him.
As soon as he feels the desire has been sated, Kim draws away.
Chay blinks his eyes open sleepily, Kim drawing him back to the surface with gentle passes of fingers over the curve of his jaw and the apple of his cheekbones. His lashes flutter with each languid blink, and Kim feels the thump thump thump in his chest intensify.
“Sorry I let her interrupt us.” Chay mumbles, bottom lip sticking out in a little pout.
“It’s okay,” And Kim means it, after all, if Blue hadn’t derailed things then Kim would have. Postponed the aching hunger Chay has for him until Kim is able to deliver it.
Because intimacy is easy for Kim in certain forms, but the one Chay is seeking with increased frequency lately is not and it never has been and both of them pretend that it doesn’t bother them in very different but equally intense ways.
Kim rolls onto his back and offers his arm as a comfortable pillow, Chay obediently slides closer to drop his head on Kim’s bicep. “Probably for the best, you’ve got to get up early for your chemistry class.”
Which only leads to Chay grumbling in annoyance. “But P’Kim–” He elongates the name on a whine, then flutters his pretty little lashes like the fiend he is. “I wanted to suck you off.”
“Jesus, Chay.” Kim barks out a laugh but it could also be a yelp, he’s not entirely sure, just that it comes from the centre of his chest and makes Chay’s face twist like a hungry hound. All teeth and eyes full of hunger.
It’s no secret that one of Chay’s favourite pastimes is flustering Kim, and even less of a secret that Kim is easily flustered when it comes to this version of Chay. The hunger and desire so blatantly writ into his being. Kim gets that same excited nauseous feeling as he perches at the end of an abyss and stares straight into Chay’s lust-dark eyes.
Chay’s hand slips across his stomach, the muscles beneath Kim’s skin flutter and tense with the action. Chay’s fingers tap a beat against the cut of his hip, and then wriggle under the waistband of Kim’s sleep pants. Kim freezes, snatching Chay’s wrist and forcing them both to still like deer in headlights.
Chay just keeps blinking at him, the only thing giving away his disappointment is the slight downturn of his mouth. “ Kim –”
Chay’s wrist flexes once, strong enough that Kim is convinced he’s going to try and break free from the hold and grab Kim’s cock anyway. That he’s going to climb on top of him and wrap his hands around his throat and force him to spread his legs and–
Kim shudders, mouth parting on a sharp exhale as he feels himself getting hard, achingly so, and he panics.
Not yet. It’s not the time. Chay knows, on some level, about Kim’s plans, even if the box itself is hidden and out of sight, and he’s pushing his luck because he’s excited, that’s all. It still makes Kim’s fight or flight kick in. Still ticks his brain from pliant lover into lethal weapon because he is built to perceive submission as weakness and revolt against it with his teeth and claws.
Kim rolls them, perhaps a little harshly, so that Chay is on his back. It’s magnificent, how easily Chay’s legs spread for him even before Kim is using his knees to bully the thighs apart. How Chay giggles like he’s somehow won when Kim dips his face to set his teeth against his pulsepoint.
Chay struggles a little, Kim bites down. He finds Chay’s wrists and pins them against the mattress either side of his head as he rolls his hips in deep rough grinds and Chay whines pathetically into the air.
Finally, Chay goes weak and pliant beneath him. Kim grunts, wild and pleased that Chay has submitted. That he has come out on top over a perceived threat. Kim bites and sucks and rubs up against Chay’s crotch until the fight dies away into something soft and malleable.
Something Kim can wrap his hands around and control .
With one last lingering kiss against the darkest of the marks now marring Chay’s throat, Kim pulls back and rolls away again, grinning widely at the upset little keen that Chay gives. “Go to sleep, Porchay.”
“I hate you.” Chay mumbles, but there’s no conviction to it. Chay instead snuggles close and presses a kiss to Kim’s chest right over his heart before settling his ear there. He’s always like to drift off to the sound of Kim being safe and alive. “Goodnight P’Kim.”
–
As expected, Chay is a nightmare to get out of the apartment the next day. He is groggy and uncooperative, and despite being a self confessed morning person, he is fussier than most toddlers as Kim throws clothes and nourishment in his direction ahead of his busy day.
Kim feeds him spoonfuls of his own breakfast, because the breakfast put in front of Chay had been swallowed whole in under a minute and then he had pouted and whined and put his chin on Kim’s shoulder and muttered, “I’m a growing boy, P’Kim.”
So Kim forgoes eating in favour of Chay getting seconds and he instead rests his chin in his palm and listens raptly as Chay recounts everything Blue had told him about her fancy date the night before around mouthfuls of congee.
“It was for their two year anniversary,” Chay tells him, “Ohm was so sure they were going to get engaged considering how fancy the place was but I said we’d know.”
Chay pauses his telling long enough to gulp down half a glass of orange juice, and he looks pointedly at Kim over the rim of the glass.
“There’s always signs about these things, isn’t there, Phi?”
Kim tries not to choke on his coffee; if he’d had any doubts that Chay was well aware of what was coming, then they’d be dashed just like that. Chay conspicuously looks away, a smug grin splitting across his face. Kim is chewing over what to say, if it’s worth trying to throw Chay off the scent or if he should come clean– but Chay isn’t done regaling his tale apparently, and he’s able to hide his panic behind his mug as Chay keeps talking.
“Anyway, you should have seen the restaurant, it was so pretty. Blue was sending us pictures of the bathrooms because even those were beautiful.” As he speaks, Chay is waving one hand around, active and animated in a way Kim envies a little, but warms him from the inside out to witness.
“You know what it looked like?” Kim hums, a prompt, and Chay locks eyes with him once more. “The kind of place your family would go to all the time. Especially P’Kinn.”
Which means it’s eccentric to the point of idiocy.
“So maybe not so special for you, but for me?” Chay adds. The wistful expression speaks for itself.
Not so special to Kim, but the kind of place Chay would lay awake at night daydreaming about when he was a child. Everything he never thought he would ever even come close to seeing in real life never mind having the chance to eat there. Never mind being connected to the kind of family that frequents a place like that every other week.
It represents Chay’s rags to riches tale, a story that Chay himself often struggles to enjoy half the time.
“You’ll have to show me later, there’s a high chance Kinn owns it.” Chay laughs, but Kim isn’t joking. “Now finish your breakfast, you’re going to be late.”
“You’re so mean to me, P’Kim.”
Kim shoos him out of the apartment just after seven and in the silence left behind considers going back to bed himself. He’s at a brand event this evening that is likely going to run late and his makeup artists will not thank him for the bags under his eyes and the pale pallor to his skin if he doesn’t sleep properly.
But.
Maybe not so special for you.
But for me?
Kim doesn’t go back to sleep. Instead he utilises the breadth of his morally grey disposition and he stalks Blue’s instagram under the guise of his sock puppet accounts so he can see for himself what kind of expectations have been set by Chay’s best friend’s girlfriend.
He doesn’t have to look far, Blue’s stories from the night before are all right there and public (Kim should maybe nudge Chay into talking to her about that) and her most recent post is already pinned full of pictures.
Once he’s swiped through the first few images depicting the couple themselves– Blue barely five feet tall and with a waterfall of dark hair spilling over her shoulders, her partner a lot taller, with straight dyed blonde hair, the both of them posing together in front of a grand staircase, Blue’s arms thrown over her partner’s shoulder and the both of them gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes– then Kim begins to recognise the exact place they’d dined at.
Chay had been starry eyed and awestruck describing it to Kim, and seeing it for himself, Chay may have even been under-exaggerating. The restaurant itself is lavish and decked out to market itself to generational wealth, with art costing more than most homes hung on the wall and delicate, soft lighting. There are draperies and polished marble floorings.
Kim has no idea what Blue’s girlfriend does, but she either makes a killing at it or she is using family money.
Not that Kim can comment, he has the luxury of both family money and a generously paying job and he too uses whatever he is able to spoil Chay within an inch of his life… when Chay allows it, that is. When the financial trauma doesn’t snatch his boyfriend by the throat and shake him until he’s limp and tearful.
But looking at this place and Chay’s reaction to it, there is a chance Kim isn’t doing as well as he’d thought of giving Chay the lifestyle he deserves. Not when he sees the sequined gowns and the five courses and the bottle of red wine that would make Vegas drool over the vintage.
Without googling, Kim already knows there’s a waiting list that spans months to contend with. Luckily, and perhaps embarrassingly for him, though, Chay had been right. Kinn does like it here.
More embarrassingly, Kim’s estimation was also correct. Kinn does own it.
Kim scrolls through more photos, though he’s barely paying attention to what’s on the screen anymore. His senses are more alert to another part of the room, the locked desk drawer where the unassuming box from yesterday hides. Call him crazy, but it’s like he can hear it scratching against the wood to get out.
And maybe he’s reading too much into it, but the events of last night combined with Chay’s pointed conversation this morning… it feels like he’s being guided onto the correct path. Like Chay can sense him floundering on how to make this perfect and is doing what Chay does best. Helping. Providing solutions.
A beacon of safety that Kim can gravitate towards no matter how stormy his own thoughts become.
Which is why he’s doing this in the first place, isn’t it? To mirror the devotion Chay has for him, to give him something as solid proof of how much Kim adores him too. That Kim wants a future with him.
Kim lingers on a photo of two Champagne glasses clinking together, his thumb hovering over the screen right where the flutes meet.
This is where he’s going to do it, he decides.
And if he has to use one of his few brotherly favours to make it happen, well, that's a sacrifice he’s willing to make.
–
One humiliating phone call to Kinn later and Kim gets the reservations he wants.
Could he have done it without grovelling to his brother? Almost certainly, Kim’s name would be enough for him to show up unannounced and still end up with the best table in the place. However, doing that would also immediately be flagged to Kinn anyway, and Kim would rather avoid the relentless and insufferable ribbing that would come afterwards.
This way, Kim gets all of the teasing upfront, and he tempers it with the knowledge that soon he will have Chay in every way he wants him.
He intentionally gives himself two weeks to work up to going through with it. He wants to time it just right so that Chay is in the middle of a term break, and he can beg some time away from his own responsibilities as well, and as luck would have it, his creative dam breaks the second he puts the date in his diary.
It’s like the certainty of the moment brings forward everything he truly wants to say. Lyrics are piling behind his teeth and beg to escape almost faster than Kim can compose melodies to go along with them.
More than once Chay appears in the doorway to his study smiling, a wide grin on his face and love in his eyes as he comments, “I can hear you humming from the kitchen, something new?”
And Kim gets to say yes , to invite Chay into his space and pluck out the fledgling chords of something beautiful and watch Chay light up. He can’t answer when Chay asks where this sudden inspiration is coming from, but there’s an aura of understanding about Chay anyway, like he already knows what’s loosening Kim’s usual stiff composure.
It’s an aphrodisiac in and of itself, actually. Kim and Chay have always found music to be particularly exciting, especially when they share it, and combined with the tension of what they both, in some way, know they are building towards, they can’t keep their hands off each other.
Most surfaces in their shared apartment had long since been christened but Kim is sure they’ve re-baptised them all again in the space between Kim setting the date and the night of the dinner.
One night Kim makes Chay ride him in his desk chair, and he doesn’t flinch too badly when Chay’s hands linger a little too long against his throat before skating up into his hair. He doesn’t flinch at all when those same fingers tug a tad more insistently than they usually do to crash their mouths together.
And it’s not just the sex. It’s the intimacy. Kim falls asleep several nights with his head on Chay’s chest, hearing the thump of his heart beat in time with his own. More than once Kim has dragged Chay into the bathroom to wash his hair and rub away the tension of his finals.
Once that first week of Chay’s break is up, the time during which they’d spent doing as much of nothing as they can manage, Chay sleeping much later than he’d ever allowed himself to when on a class schedule, the second week comes with a little more anxiety.
Chay notices, of course he does, but he doesn’t comment. Kim delivers the last of his demo tracks to P’Mint on Monday, and Chay welcomes him home with a hot bath and a warm dinner and they climb into bed early and snuggle themselves to sleep. From then on they appear to get stuck in a back and forth of pampering.
If Kim wasn’t so certain that he was heading towards a special night on Saturday, he’d be convinced that Chay might be planning something too. For every time Kim soaks them both in a hot bath together, shortly after Chay will pull out some face masks. Kim takes them to a nice spa on the edge of the city to get massages and Chay arranges for them to get manicures too.
It’s perhaps the easiest time Kim has ever had spending money on Chay, who usually approaches any exorbitant spending with squinted eyes and a tremor to his frame, conditioned to expect serious repercussions from any large spends; usually in the form of violence and harassment.
But he just lets this happen. Or he does, until Saturday rolls around and Kim starts the day by suggesting they go shopping together.
“Shopping?” Chay has been cajoled into clothing and dragged halfway to the car before Kim suggests the idea, so that it’s hard for him to turn back now. Kim’s a true strategist like that. “Shopping for what?”
“Clothes.” Kim says, perhaps a little too quickly, the hand he has entwined with Chay’s is tugging a little too insistently.
Of course, Chay’s response is to plant his feet. “I have clothes, P’Kim.”
And if Kim is a strategist then Chay is an interrogator, because he hasn’t even asked a question, not really, and Kim stalls like a lagging computer while he cycles through responses. Fuck, Kim hadn’t even specified the clothes were for Chay and now he’s lost the chance to bluff about it.
Chan would be disappointed in him, really. All that resistance to interrogation training in his childhood and this is all it takes to undo him. One Porchay Kittisawat.
In the end, Kim isn’t above playing dirty; he widens his eyes in the way that he knows Chay is easy for, gives Chay’s hand a weak tug and even lets his bottom lip stick out a little.
“Please?” he all but whines, and just as expected, Chay gives in.
The suspicious aura doesn’t leave him, even as he bundles obediently into the passenger side of Kim’s car. They make it almost the entire day without further questions, actually. Kim ferries Chay from one establishment to the next (half of which were recommended by Khun), and after a while he even starts to relax into it.
They’re almost caught in a compromising position when Chay tries on the tightest pair of jeans Kim has ever seen and makes a point of looking over his shoulder to wink at him. Really, what else is Kim supposed to do but press Chay’s entire front against the mirror before them and mouth at his neck like a hungry dog. Is it really his fault that he is bolstered by the knowledge of what’s to come this very night? That he plants his hands on Chay’s hips to guide him back into a rough grind, to remind them both they’re very excited about this evening's plans, exhilarated even.
No, it’s Chay’s fault, and when a poor shop girl raps her knuckles against the dressing room door to ask if they need anything else, Kim snaps back to reality so hard he gets whiplash.
Chay finds the whole thing hilarious.
Kim manages to brute force a decent amount of items to the register (including those jeans, are you kidding?) and Chay manages to stifle his glares and pursed lips, and instead smiles politely through the shop assistants gushing about what a cute couple they make. Kim pays, because of course he does, and Chay’s eye twitches a little as the card is handed over.
They make it almost all the way back to the apartment before Chay’s patience runs thin. He’s been quietly thumbing through one of the bags at his feet, fingering the soft fabric of a sweater and the crisp lines of a white cotton shirt. In the back there is a suit bag, in which two jackets hang, one that is fitted to Kim’s slighter frame and one for Chay’s new broader shoulders that have appeared since his most recent growth spurt.
There’s also a shoebox on the backseat that Kim didn’t purchase today, but which he’d collected while they’d been out and Chay had given him an exhausted but knowing look about as he placed it in among Chay’s new garments.
“What’s going on P’Kim?” Chay asks right as they’re pulling into the parking lot of Kim’s building.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been…” Chay thinks on the words for a moment before settling on what must be the kindest way of saying it. “Anxious.”
It still makes Kim flinch to hear it called out like that. He finds himself scoffing a laugh that is a little too thready and fake, “No I haven’t.”
“Kim,” The phi is gone, which means serious business. Kim’s either in trouble or Chay is so worried formalities don’t matter to him anymore. “You just spent the equivalent of three months' allowance on me.”
Because his instinct is to go on the defensive, Kim’s first thought is to point out that Kim’s allowance is at least double what Chay’s is, being that he is a direct heir to Korn, and there’s everything he earns as Wik on top of that, so Chay’s point is moot.
He quickly realises this will get him into more trouble, and if nothing else, proves Chay’s point. That something is wrong, and it’s obvious enough to anyone who cares to look.
“Is it the album?” Chay presses, reaching over to place his hand on Kim’s thigh as he drives. “Did they not like the Demos? You know first drafts are meant to be tweaked, they shouldn’t push you so hard. I can talk to P’Mint for you, creation takes time–”
“It’s not the album.” Chay stops, waiting patiently for Kim to elaborate, which he doesn’t do until they pull to a stop because it gives him an excuse to avoid looking at Chay for a few moments longer. Even then his elaboration is to just ask, “Come to dinner with me tonight?”
It’s clear by the look of utter confusion on Chay’s face, it is completely out of left field for him.
“What?”
He should have done this differently, do people usually do this kind of thing differently? He’d thought telling Chay about the dinner would have ruined the surprise, but he’d also been working on the assumption Chay knows what the dinner is for , so was there ever a surprise to ruin? Could he have gotten his partner on board with the shopping much easier if he’d just said something, or would he have lost the delicious burn of tension that’s been slowly winding up between them these past few days?
Kim doesn’t know, and it’s too late anyhow; their reservation is in a few hours and here they are, watching each other carefully in Kim’s front seat, Chay looking at the air around Kim as if he might be able to spot some form of motivation curling out in between them.
He looks a little pale. Frantic. Scared.
Kim hates when Chay looks scared.
“I made reservations at the restaurant Blue went to.” The strain in his voice is obvious, the same hoarse and gruff exclamations that most of his confessions had sounded like in the early days, back when Chay had to force real expressions of emotion out of him. These days he’s better, except, it seems, when it comes to this particular expression. “I wanted it to be a surprise, but– well. Maybe that wasn’t a good idea. I took you shopping today because we’re going to dinner tonight and I wanted you to feel your best.”
It still takes a moment, Chay watching him with squinted, suspicious eyes as he turns this new information over in his head. And then he breaks into a wide grin, cheeks dimpling and his teeth on show. “Really?”
“Mhm.”
Chay practically crawls across the console to give Kim a kiss before he starts scrambling out of the car and yelling about how he has to start getting ready now , that he’s going to video call P’Khun for advice.
Kim is left behind, grinning, knowing he made the right choice the day he chose Porchay Kittisawat.
–
Neither of the Kittisawat brothers have adapted very well to the opulence of life in the Theerapanyakul family.
Objectively, Porsche is better at playing the part, though. This is mostly through necessity. He’s forced himself to adapt to the fine suits and the discussions taking place over ridiculously priced meals and the need for heavy jewellery around his neck, on his wrists, in his ears– Porsche has accepted the show of it all and most of the time can even convince people (see: Kinn) that he enjoys it.
Though, through Chay, Kim has learnt that the eldest brother is still just as likely to be seen about the place in one of his 3 t-shirts and some comfortable sweatpants or worn jeans, and that when asked what he wants to eat most nights will still choose market stall noodles over french-fusion restaurants and wagyu steaks.
Porchay’s adaptation has taken a little longer, and even now there are days where it looks like no progress has been made at all. Not unless you’re looking very closely. Kim sees it, he sees it in the way that Chay has started using Kim’s hair products without vowing to replace the bottles. Or the way Chay will let himself eat a larger portion if he’s enjoying the food, rather than deflecting that one serving is enough for him.
Kim sees it most in the way Chay is no longer so fearful about admitting that he wants things. Now, he doesn’t always let Kim buy them for him, and there is a lingering mindset that the things he wants must be earned through months of hard work and strict saving, but there was a time where Porchay wouldn’t even give voice to his desires because even having the thought was a luxury he couldn’t afford in his childhood.
Wishes cost money, after all, and in some way they would always result in more debt. More guilt. More shame.
It means nights like these are rare for them as a couple, because Chay isn’t always comfortable being dragged into the world he still feels an outsider to. He’s likened it to a puzzle piece being forced into the wrong place several times. A piece of sky on the face of a bear, sticking out as wrong. Kim never argued that he wasn’t out of place, because lying to Chay upsets him, and often Kim himself is wildly out of place, so logic dictates Chay is too.
There’s none of that worry tonight, though.
Chay meets Kim by the car. He’d insisted on Kim being well out of the way for the entire process of him getting ready and now he’s glad he obeyed, because what greets him is a vision. Chay’s hair permed into delicious curls, falling gracefully over his forehead and around his ears. He’s wearing a sheer white blouse with the fitted jacket over the top, drawing attention to the width of his shoulders, and when he buttons it closed, the cinch of his waist. He’s wearing jeans, but they’re expensive, not as tight as the pair Kim had bought him, but they hug at his hips and flare a little towards his ankles.
And if the clothes weren’t enough– clothes Kim had provided, the animalistic part of his brain chimes in– then the rest is a sin.
Chay’s darkened his eyes with a little bit of liner, just enough to make them seem bigger than ever. His cheeks are gently blushed and his lips are tacky with gloss, looking impossibly plump. Kim wants to sink his teeth into them. His wrist is adorned with a chain bracelet, his ears decked out in diamonds. He’s done his nails. They’re polished and elegant as he stops an arms length away from Kim and presents his left hand between them.
“How do I look?”
Without hesitation, Kim takes the offered hand and brings it to his lips, brushing a kiss carefully across his knuckles. Chay inhales sharply, a little gasp that makes something in Kim’s chest fizzle and spit like an exposed wire.
Kim then uses his grip on that outstretched hand to yank Chay closer, until he stumbles on his feet and Kim is forced to catch him. It puts Chay at a slight height disadvantage for the first time in a long time and Kim isn’t above abusing it.
“You look beautiful.” Kim praises, moving in for a kiss. He wants to smudge Chay’s immaculate looking lip gloss.
Unfortunately for him, Chay is quicker, and he holds his hand up between them so all Kim gets is his lips on Chay’s palm.
“You’re not ruining this yet, P’Kim!” Chay scolds, pushing Kim away by his face. “Maybe later, though.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Kim grins, and he can feel it tearing across his features like an open wound. It aches like one too, but in a good way. The kind of ache that comes after a long workout, a sign of progress.
“Get in the car, angel.”
–
They manage to behave themselves the entire drive, though it's a wonder. Chay keeps looking between the view beyond the window and Kim with his constellation filled gaze. He can’t sit still, shifting in place constantly and his hands waving about as he talks. Kim counts three times at least that he almost leans across the space and pulls Chay in for a kiss.
He’s sure Chay clocks it each time too, because the little brat keeps sinking his teeth into his lower lip and purposefully letting his eyes wander to Kim’s mouth.
Thank god Kim has a no frottage in front of the bodyguard rule, otherwise he’d sack off the whole evening and fuck Chay in the back of this car like he’s clearly begging for.
Instead he keeps himself firmly against the opposite side of the vehicle right until the moment they arrive, when he’s out of the car like a shot, all too eager to be the one who opens the door for Chay, who takes his hand and leads him into this perfect night of theirs.
And in doing so, he gets to see first hand how Chay’s features slacken in surprise and awe when he finally gets a good look at the place. It’s eccentric, Kim knows, with the stairs leading up to the glass doors carpeted in red, but it caters to not just rich folk, but foreign rich folk, the kind of people with one or two secret bank accounts in various different countries and more money than sense. It’s meant to show itself off as something to be gawked at.
It wants to be seen as too expensive for the mere passerby. Kim usually hates this stuff as much as Chay and yet tonight, they can make an exception.
Chay’s making an exception.
“This is…” He doesn’t even finish the sentence, too blown away by the real diamond chandelier hanging in the entryway. Kim doesn’t need to say a thing to the hostess, who recognises him on sight and bows deeply to the both of them.
“Khun Kim, Khun Porchay, we have your table waiting for you!” She is bright and overly sweet with her smiles, no doubt her entire tuition paid by the sizable tips she makes here, and she leads them through the entire dining room towards the table Kim had specified wanting.
If Kim weren’t holding on to Chay’s hands he might have lost him somewhere around the fourth table they pass, because he can’t stop staring. His eager eyes are darting from table to table, observing the food and the people, then turning to the walls and the obscene amount of art framed in gold. Every now and then he will turn to Kim, a wide smile on his face and his eyebrows up towards his hairline, and Kim can almost hear Chay’s voice in his head screeching, Are you seeing this P’Kim?
It’s adorable.
What’s even better is the table. It shouldn’t be so surprising that his every request has not only been met but exceeded.
Chay sidles up beside him as the hostess pulls out the first chair and Kim hears him gasp a little, “P’Kim…”
Kinn had recommended his own favoured table, a semi-private booth towards the back of the restaurant, secluded enough for privacy but still exposed enough to not lose the atmosphere of the place. So that Chay can still look around and bask in the feeling of being one of these people now. Of belonging in this crowd.
Chay takes his seat once urged, Kim’s hand a gentle pressure on his lower back, but it’s clear his attention is on the setting of the table rather than how he is tucked in.
Kim had warned the staff that tonight was special. That he wanted it to be memorable and they have delivered. There are candles lit softly in the middle of the table, yellow roses (Chay’s favourites) as a centrepiece. A bottle of champagne waits, chilling on ice in a bucket right beside their seats, waiting to be cracked into.
Kim sits himself, much too focussed on the way the candlelight catches on Chay’s tear filled eyes as he looks directly at Kim and wobbles a delicate smile.
They don’t say anything, not until after their serving girl has popped the cork and poured them a glass of bubbling champagne each and informed them their appetisers will be out soon. Kim took the liberty of pre-requesting all of their food, mostly because he thinks actually looking at a menu would risk spooking Chay on account of there being no prices listed– Kim does not want to have to be the one to explain to him that if you need to ask the cost of a meal then you can’t afford to eat it– but also because he wanted as much time alone to themselves as he can get and isn’t interested in having to halt their conversation every half an hour for waitress intervention.
Kim respects service workers, but sometimes they’re a hindrance to his intentions.
The second they’re alone, Chay is standing up enough to lean across the table and kiss him.
It’s more of a peck, a fleeting brush of lips, closely followed by a second more desperate kiss that Kim has to halt. “You’re going to cause a fire.” He points out, looking pointedly between them where Chay is perilously close to a candle. “And then it'll be a real waste of a dinner.”
Chay laughs, but it's wet and vulnerable. He pecks Kim’s cheek one final time, leaving behind a tacky imprint of his mouth that Kim refuses to wipe away, before retaking his seat. He anxiously attempts to replace the napkin on his lap as he speaks. “This is just… this is a lot, Kim.”
“I know.” Kim reaches one hand across the table, an offer Chay takes instantly, threading their hands together. “If it's too much, we can leave. But I want tonight to be special.”
A weak little mewl ekes out of Chay’s parted lips, and he reaches his free hand up to cover his eyes, tilting his whole face downwards to hide the spill of a blush across his cheeks. And this is how Kim gets to fluster Chay in return, by being earnest and open in how he feels.
It’s almost as effective as when Chay whispers dirty nothings to Kim. Almost. Chay does a much better job at hiding when Kim gets to him. Usually. They’re making a lot of exceptions tonight.
When Chay looks back up there’s a single tear tracing down his cheek, and before Kim can ask if he’s okay, Chay is waving a hand between them. “Good tears.” He promises, already dabbing them away with his napkin. “Very good. You’re just– I love you, Kim.”
“I love you too, angel.” Kim brings Chay’s hand to his face to kiss it again, perhaps too extravagantly, because Chay starts to giggle and pulls his hand away. Kim plays at holding it hostage and feathering kisses against his fingertips until he’s forced to let go.
It had been terrifying, getting them to this point while knowing what’s to come. But there’s no turning back now, and Kim couldn’t even if he wanted to, because waiting at the other side is Chay’s joy, and that’s worth any price tag Kim comes up against. Even the emotional ones.
–
Their evening progresses beautifully.
They try to keep what they consider ‘work talk’ to an absolute minimum, which means Kim can’t talk about the album, or the mafia, and Chay can’t talk about his finals, and instead they reconnect on things they have been a little too busy as of late to really linger on.
Chay shows him photos of his mother’s latest paintings and they talk about art as a broader subject, which leads to Chay playfully suggesting he wants to paint a whole wall yellow in the apartment and Kim pretending he thinks that is an awful idea. In reality they both know if Chay really wanted it, Kim would let him.
They dance around the topic of their brothers, Kim’s already put money on a summer wedding but Chay is more inclined to believe they will simply announce they’ve eloped one day, and before they can get too far into that discussion, Kim leads them away from it and instead distracts Chay with talk of the beach and when they can next get time away together.
Chay takes photos of every plate that is laid in front of him and Kim watches him with a soft smile on his face. Technically it’s improper, and he knows for sure there is going to be a disgusted look from someone somewhere in the dining room who has noticed the behaviour, but Kim sees the wide eyed joy of a boy who grew up only eating once a day some days and vows that if he has to spill blood in Kinn’s fancy restaurant then his brother can send him the bill to clean it out of the carpet.
It’s all going perfect. Exactly according to plan. Even better actually, as they polish off their main courses and are waiting for desserts, Chay has had just enough champagne that he is glowing with mischief. Kim catches his eye over the flickering flame of a candle and knows he is in trouble.
He kind of wants to be in trouble, this time. The whole night loosening him, helping him unwind enough that he is eager to see what Chay will do with the inch Kim is about to give him.
Secretly Kim wants him to try and take the mile.
“You’ve got that look on your face.” Kim prompts, tapping his fingers rhythmically against his glass.
Chay beams in response to the invitation. “What look?”
“You know what look.” Kim tuts at him, which only makes Chay grin wider. Any outsider might consider him crazed but Kim knows it as obsession. Devotion so strong it sends him a little loopy. It had been one of the first things Kim had realised he loved about Chay, that in his own ways he was a tad unhinged, just like the rest of them, and yet he never hid his nature. Just lived as honestly and as openly as he’d dared. “The look that means you’re about to cause trouble.”
“Oh, you think?”
Kim makes the mistake of trying to take a sip of his drink right about the same time a socked foot begins climbing his calf. He doesn’t choke, but it’s a close thing, and he feels how wide his eyes get in response. Chay almost falls about himself giggling, wiggling his toes against Kim’s knee as the foot just creeps higher.
“Am I causing trouble, P’Kim?” He asks innocently. Chay drops his head into his palm, blinking languidly in Kim’s direction and Kim…. Kim doesn’t say anything. He sets his half full champagne glass aside and he shakes his head.
Chay lights up. “Good. Because I’d stop if you wanted me to, but I also want tonight to be special, Phi , and I’ve been thinking of a few ways I can do that.”
Oh fuck. Okay. Chay’s foot rises and presses directly against Kim’s crotch. There’s a moment of hesitation, where they both expect Kim to flinch away, and he does, a little, a leftover instinct that tells him run, stop, vulnerable, at risk – but Kim overrides it. Forces it back down his throat and relaxes into the touch.
And the effort doesn’t go unnoticed. Chay looks fit to start crying all over again when he processes Kim’s submission.
“You’re so good to me, Kim.” Chay murmurs, the sound of it barely audible over the hum of the restaurant.
Kim expects Chay to continue pushing his luck, and is braced for it even, but there is one last lingering drag against his clothed dick and then Chay is retreating. He tucks his foot back into his shoe, presumably, because then he’s standing gracefully and laying his napkin on the table. “I’m just going to freshen up before dessert. Don’t miss me too much.”
He winks as he leaves and to Kim it’s a signal.
The swing in his hips as he walks away is permission. It’s a command. They’re doing this.
It’s finally time to set the last part of his plan in motion.
Kim has been waiting for this moment for two long weeks now. Has been spending every spare second alone weighing the shape of the box in his palm, coming to terms with what he’s doing. He’s even been dreaming about it, for fucks sake, imagining how Chay will react. If he will be happy. If he will accept it or if he might turn Kim down.
He has been planning it down to the exact minute, each tiny thing that could go wrong. There are back-up plans and contingencies, and none of that is enough to stop Kim’s hands shaking as he pulls the little velvet box out of his breast pocket.
So thorough in his planning, Kim knows exactly how long Chay is likely to take in the bathroom. The countdown began the moment Chay left his eyeline, and Kim only has minutes to get over himself. But he needs a second to pop open the lid and stare at the contents. To look at the crossroads he is paused at and make a choice on if this is what he really wants.
He could turn back. Tuck it away and take Chay home and make love to him and they could treat this night as a special milestone in their relationship and nothing more. Or he could make it the milestone. The one that alters their state of being going forward.
It’s a commitment. A big one. Kim has never even considered offering this to anyone before. It hadn’t been in the cards for him, not until Porchay.
And even after Porchay it hadn’t felt like something Kim could ever offer. A part of himself that felt too distant and unattainable. They’re only here now because of Chay himself, his gentle and unwavering love and support.
In the end it’s no decision at all.
Kim’s going to spend the rest of his life trying to be the man Chay deserves, and it starts tonight.
Over half of his time has already elapsed. It has to be now. Kim plucks it out of the box with careful fingers and drops it into the flute of champagne in front of him. He watches the liquid fizz and bubble in the glass. Out of the corner of his eye he spots Chay’s figure reentering the dining room.
Show time.
Kim grabs the glass and downs the liquid all in one go.