Chapter Text
Porchay slowly closed his eyes, his head starting to spin, the same nauseating words kept repeating in his mind, they went back and forth, with no intention of leaving him alone.
Why else would I be your tutor?
Tears were starting to dry on his face. Eyelids getting heavier, head starting to hurt more. Just as if someone was hitting him with a giant hammer right on his skull. He ran his hands through his hair and pulled them lightly, then he felt his heart tighten, this time as if that someone was harshly holding it.
He was still there. Outside the hall of Kim’s building. Feeling relieved that he didn’t have any bodyguards around him. Relieved that he managed to run away. No one should see him so miserable, especially some random strangers, who would undoubtedly run to tell everything to his older brother. He glanced around once again, analyzing the place, and when he noticed he was alone, he slowly slipped against the wall.
A lost look and a weak body.
Thousand thoughts flowed through his head, from the first time he met Kim, to when he confessed, to the night they spent together. Until where he was. He suddenly realized how stupid he had been.
Here it was. The stupid and innocent Porchay. Stupid and innocent Porchay who let himself be used and manipulated by the first random guy. Stupid and innocent Porchay who couldn't take care of himself, who had to be protected by his big brother, who got kidnapped.
He felt useless.
All those times that Kim contacted him, smiled at him, showed up outside his house. They were nothing , they meant nothing. While his heart beat enthusiastically every time they hugged, Kim probably felt disgusted, didn’t he?
How couldn’t he notice it? Everything explained itself. He hardly ever looked at him, ignored his calls most of the time, and acted like an asshole. Yet Chay thought it was normal, he thought it was just his personality, after all, he was the lucky one. His celebrity crush had accepted to tutor him, kissed him, and hugged him. It was just like a dream. So he woke up and found out it was all fake.
“Kim, I love you. Do you love me?” He told him that morning, his eyes shining with a bit of hope.
“I …” Kim didn't look him in the eye, his voice seemed almost hesitant.
“I..’m hungry”
And there, too, a piece of his heart broke apart, the bit of hope shattered into even smaller pieces, but it did not disappear. Because he still trusted Kim. He wanted to give him time, thinking that - he too with his time would express his feelings. But he never imagined all of that to happen. Didn't imagine finding out he was used since the beginning.
More time went by, the more all their memories emerged in his mind. Every single moment he left him alone, showed himself unexpectedly outside his house, and then kicked him out with an excuse and took his phone to make “ calls ”. All of that. It was so he could investigate his brother . Never for him . Gradually the feeling of sadness was turning into something stronger, intense. Anger .
Porchay bounced up from the floor, the sudden movement made him sway a bit, as his head was still hurt, then he wiped what was left of the tears and started walking. His mind only thinking of a place. It wasn't the first time he'd walked that street. One of the firsts was when he went to Kim’s apartment, when he wasn’t answering his calls. He should have figured out it then.
The anger increased when the image of Kim looking for an excuse to leave appeared in his mind. His velocity increased and he almost found himself running. People looked at him judging, but he didn't care.
Once he arrived, he closed the door behind him and headed for the sofa. The house was empty, as expected. No one entered it since the previous time. When he was kidnapped. The last ones were him and Kim. The day after his confession. His head aching only at the thought of them sitting on the sofa, hugging and caressing each other. Kim’s hand gradually tracing Porchay’s back. Porchay’s head placed on Kim’s chest, listening to his heartbeat. They were happy. No, they looked happy. Seemed happy.
He walked over to the kitchen. The rice was still there, now tarnished, black pieces in the egg and ants still trying to take parts of it. His gaze shifted to an item. A post-it. One of those he used to study. He grabbed it hesitantly, his hand almost trembling for some reason. He didn't recognise the handwriting, but it wasn’t his, that’s for sure. He started slowly reading, a small smile growing on his face. Not a genuine one though, a different one, almost resigned.
“I have to go. Sorry”
He connected the dots once again. Kim probably wrote that note when he went to open the door. He wanted to leave him, after not even a day that they were together. Automatically, Porchay started assuming.
What would have happened if the kidnappers didn't come?
Would he go back to an empty house?
Would he ever hear from him again?
In one way or another, he had already decided to break his heart.
Asshole. Bastard. Piece of shit. Son of a bitch. Dickhead. Motherfucker. Moron. Shitface. Every possible insult would fit him at that moment.
Why did he have to meet him? His life was bad enough on its own. Why the fuck did he have to worsen it? His parents were dead, his uncle was an asshole, a scared-cat, who had hundreds of debts and debtors, and his brother. His brother, Porsche, was rarely at home and the time he came back, he was always injured. But Porchay was fine with that because he was family , so he stayed awake every night, with the first aid kit beside him, ready to help. Because that was what the word family meant, stay together and help each other. Porsche was all he had and when he left him that note, obviously lying to him,everything was senseless.
They decided to go through everything together, so why. Why did he abandon him? Why did he leave him behind? Alone? Why did he lie to him and put his life in danger? Selfish.
They were all selfish.
His brother who wanted to solve everything on his own? Selfish.
His uncle, who used their money to gamble? Selfish.
Kim, who used him? Selfish and a bastard.
He threw himself on the sofa and stared at the ceiling. The pain from before was increasing, and his chest was exploding. His lungs hurt, almost finding it hard to breathe. He closed his eyes with a single thought in his head.
Does anyone still care about me?
He woke up with a sore body, a stiff neck and an even worse headache. He grabbed the phone out of his back pocket and checked the time. It was nine in the evening. Porchay slept for over eight hours. Which technically made sense considering that since he moved into the main family’s residence, he hadn't slept for more than two hours a night. Anxiety possessed his body, and the fear of failing exams played with his mind. He unlocked his phone and didn't notice any notifications. Nobody called him nor messaged him. For some reason, he felt discomfort. He knew Porsche was busy. But he still hoped he would have noticed his own brother absence. He then clicked the chats and then on the most recent one. Kim's. Another wry smile appeared on his face. The chat was full of messages from Porchay, with no hint of Kim's replies, except some 'ok' or 'busy'. A single tear streaming out his face. The boy hurried to block the number before he could do anything wrong.
A loud silence dominated the house. Porchay knew that the place was unsafe. But he didn't care. No one would look for him anyway. As ominous as the house was—the lights going off and on, broken furniture and broken windows —he felt strangely safe. He felt safe for the first time in a long while.
However he also knew that if they could, they would easily find him there. Porsche wouldn’t notice his absence, sure that he was safe in his room, surrounded by bodyguards. Although, Tankhun would. As it was Thursday, and on Fridays he usually invited him to his movie nights. Tankhun was probably the only one that, at least, tried to make Porchay comfortable and less lonely. Sometimes it worked, the main times it didn’t.
So, as soon as he would notice the youngest absence, and then went to report it, everything was going to be over. His little peace was going to be destroyed. Exactly for that, he made what was the safest decision for him. Run away from the city.
It's not like he missed either the money or the driver's license. The latter was secretly taken from his brother (not really since Porsche wasn’t there) while he lived alone. He found out that not having a driver's license at eighteen wasn’t really helpful and also, for losers. So, he took lessons and passed the exam with ease.
He headed to the stairs and went up to Porsche's room. Reached down and grabbed the box under the bed, opening it and finding the keys to Porsche's beloved bike. He then took a random bag and shoved some clothes in it. Not wanting to waste any more time, he quickly turned his phone off and headed for the bike, once everything was settled down, he started the engine and drove off.
The wind ruffled his hair and sent little shivers all over his arms. Porchay tried to take deep breaths and live the moment to the fullest. It wasn’t something that happened to him every day, riding a great motorcycle, alone in the dark of the night. He was weirdly happy. Probably because of the adrenaline or maybe because, for once, his head wasn't full of thoughts. Kim wasn't there. Porsche wasn’t there. His school wasn’t there. The university’s entrance exam wasn’t certainly there. There was only him and the wind. Nothing else.
As soon as he arrived at the destination, the guy quickly left the bike in the parking lot, trying to hide it as much as possible — even though it wasn’t really dangerous as he was in an isolated village. He then walked to what looked like a small cottage and smiled at the owner, a man who seemed like he was a little over sixty. Brown eyes, white hair, and a tired face. The latter did not seem surprised by the sudden visit and just handed him the keys and took the money from the counter. Porchay mentally thanked him for not asking any questions and led the way to his usual place.
The first time he visited that ‘resort’ was with his schoolmates. He came on a study- vacation with the school several years ago. It was a small family resort that was located in a secluded village on the beach. The sea, the place, and the residence there calmed him in some sort of way. They gave him a sense of inner calm and helped him not to think much. He felt comfortable. That's why he went back to it over and over on his own. The trip was just over an hour by bus, and the owner was a calm, private guy, who didn't like poking his nose into other people's affairs. Perfect for him and his situation, as it wasn't easy for everyone to let a sixteen-year-old boy—who ran away from home—rent one of their apartments. The only time he had talked to the elder was around the fifth time he returned. He looked at him with a curious look and whispered, “Did you run away again?” Porchay was slightly surprised, but smiled at him and simply explained that he needed time to be alone, from school and family. After that little conversation, nothing more happened, except small chats and some box of juices which appeared at times outside his door. They both appreciated the silence and smiled slightly when they saw each other.
As soon as he arrived at his usual apartment—a small log cabin equipped with a mini kitchen, a bathroom, a bedroom, and a living room—he left his belongings on the bed and ran to the beach. A night swim was undoubtedly what he needed.