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The ride to the Theerapanyakul estate was long, quiet, and golden with the kind of sunset that painted everything honey-soft and slow. Kim drove with one hand on the wheel and the other loosely holding Chay’s fingers. They weren’t even talking much — just letting the low hum of the car and soft instrumental music fill the air between them.
Chay, in his usual oversized hoodie and socks that barely matched, had leaned his head back against the seat, then sideways against the window, and eventually… just… stopped talking. His replies faded into sleepy hums, and soon after, into deep, gentle breathing.
Kim glanced over once.
And then again, slower this time.
Chay had fallen asleep, head turned toward him slightly, one hand still tucked near his chest, his lashes fluttering against warm cheeks that were already tinged with the faintest pink. The curls Kim loved so much had fallen haphazardly across his forehead, and the light from outside made them glow a soft gold-brown. His mouth was parted just a little — enough for a small sigh to escape now and then — and the tiniest bit of drool threatened to betray him at the corner of his lips.
Kim smiled before he could help himself.
Not the usual smirk he reserved for interviews or the world.
A real one.
Something private.
Something only Chay ever got to see.
By the time he pulled up to the estate’s long stone driveway, he didn’t even think twice. He parked, got out, and rounded to the passenger side. The door opened with a soft click, and Chay barely shifted. He looked so peaceful, Kim didn’t even try to wake him. He simply leaned down, slid one arm under his knees, the other across his back, and lifted him carefully, like he weighed nothing, like he was something fragile and beloved.
Chay curled into him immediately, face pressing into Kim’s chest, a soft sleepy sigh escaping his lips that made Kim’s throat tighten with something warm and helpless.
He carried him inside.
Through the giant front entrance of the Theerapanyakul compound.
Straight into the chaos.
The entire family was already gathered in the lounge. Tankhun in his flashy silk robe, Kinn nursing a drink with Porsche beside him, Pete trying to wrangle Macao into behaving, and Vegas somehow managing to look both relaxed and deeply nosy from the edge of the couch.
All heads turned when Kim stepped in.
And then—
“Oh my god,” Tankhun gasped, clutching at his chest like he’d just seen a baby deer in a tiara. “He’s asleep. Look at his little face.”
“He’s drooling,” Vegas observed, already grinning. “That’s adorable.”
“Is he wearing fuzzy socks?” Pete whispered. “Wait. Is he clinging to Kim’s shirt?”
Kim ignored them all and kept walking.
Porsche whistled low. “Wow. This is next-level boyfriend behavior.”
Kim didn’t even blink. “Don’t start.”
Tankhun practically bounced in place. “His cheeks are smooshed. I repeat — his cheeks. Are. Smooshed. Kim, let me just—”
“No.”
“I just want to poke them. One tiny boop. Please.”
Kim turned, adjusting his hold on Chay slightly so his face was buried even deeper against his chest. “No.”
Tankhun huffed, clearly offended. “You don’t deserve him.”
“I know,” Kim said plainly, and kept walking.
He had almost made it past the lounge when Chay stirred.
First a little sigh, then a soft sound — confused, mumbly — and finally a slow blink up at Kim, still heavy with sleep.
“P’Kim...?” he croaked, voice hoarse and small.
Kim looked down, instantly softer. “Yeah, baby. You fell asleep in the car.”
Chay blinked again.
And then saw the room.
All the faces.
The eyes.
The grins.
He immediately flushed, hard, and tried to lift his head, only to realize his face had been pressed into Kim’s chest the entire time.
“I—oh my god—I was—” he stammered, cheeks darkening like a sunrise on fast-forward.
Tankhun made an unintelligible squeaking noise.
“Chay, sweetie,” he whispered dramatically, “you’re living my dream.”
Kim narrowed his eyes. “You’re living on borrowed time.”
Chay squirmed a little, suddenly very aware of how tightly Kim was holding him. “I can get down,” he mumbled, trying to shift his weight.
Kim didn’t move.
“I’m awake now,” Chay insisted, even as his ears burned. “Please.”
Finally, Kim relented — gently, carefully lowering him to the floor like he was afraid he might disappear.
Chay straightened quickly, smoothing his hoodie, not daring to look up. His face was still flushed, his curls a little messy from the nap, and his lips pink from sleep.
He looked like he’d just walked out of a romance manga and into a mafia board meeting.
Kim glanced down at him, then across the room, his tone final.
“No one touches him.”
Everyone groaned.
Chay tugged at Kim’s sleeve, embarrassed but secretly glowing. “Can we go wash my face before dinner?”
Kim’s hand slid into his without hesitation. “Yeah. Come on.”
As they walked out of the room together, soft laughter and exaggerated groans followed them.
And behind them, Macao whispered, “I give it a week before they start calling him baby Chay in the group chat.”
Pete snorted. “Too late. Tankhun already made a sticker pack.”
Kim didn’t turn around.
But he squeezed Chay’s hand a little tighter.
And Chay?
He didn’t mind the teasing.
Not really.
Not when he still felt the ghost of Kim’s heartbeat against his cheek.
Not when it was his hand Kim always held.
Not when he knew — without question — he was loved.
Quietly. Deeply. Always.
Even in fuzzy socks. Even while drooling. Even with smooshed cheeks.
Especially then.