Chapter Text
The air is damp, thick with the stink of rust and sweat.
Phayu is already down on the concrete, cheek swollen, lip split, his ribs screaming every time Stop’s boot connects. He takes it anyway—because every strike to him is one less aimed at Rain.
Rain, tied to the chair just a few steps away, can do nothing but cry into the gag and thrash against the ropes, wrists raw and burning.
Stop’s fist draws back again—
The door slams open.
A flood of black-clad men surge in, efficient, silent, guns already raised. Stop’s gang barely has a chance to curse before they’re disarmed, faces ground into the floor.
“Down!” a voice barks. It’s P’Chai, tall, calm, cutting through the chaos.
He strides past the scuffle, straight to Rain. Knife flicks once—ropes snap loose. The gag falls away.
“You’re safe now, Nong Rain,” he says, steady as if it’s fact, not comfort.
Rain doesn’t hesitate. The second he’s free, he drops to his knees and crawls to Phayu. “P’Phayu!”
Phayu forces himself upright just enough to curl one arm around him, holding him tight despite the agony tearing through his side. “I’m okay. I’ve got you,” he rasps. He can barely breathe, but still tries to shield Rain with his body.
A guard kneels beside them. “We’ll get you both out. Let me—”
Phayu cuts him off with a glare. “Touch him first. Carry him first.”
Rain shakes his head fiercely. “No! I’m not leaving you.” His hands clutch at Phayu’s shirt, knuckles white.
So the guards do the only thing they can: lift them together, Rain tangled against Phayu’s chest, Phayu’s chin bent low over his hair like he can protect him from the world just by holding on.
As they’re carried out, Rain hears one of the men murmur to another:
> “Boss said: bring him back no matter what.”
Rain assumes “him” means Phayu—because of course, why would anyone give such an order for him?
Outside, the night air hits cold and clean. A black car waits with its door already open.
The guards settle them in the back, and without another word, the convoy speeds toward the Theerapanyakun compound.
—
The car jolted to a stop. Hands reached in, voices sharp and low, but Rain clung harder to Phayu. He didn’t care who they were—no one was taking him away.
“Easy. Bring him inside.”
The voice was deep, steady. Rain barely heard it. All he felt was Phayu’s chest rising too shallow beneath his cheek.
They moved them anyway, lifting both together. Rain whimpered, trying to shield Phayu’s bruised ribs with his hands.
Inside, everything was too big—high ceilings, shining floors, the faint echo of footsteps—but none of it mattered. They lowered Phayu onto a wide couch, and Rain climbed up right with him, refusing to let go.
A tall man crouched nearby. Tan skin, broad shoulders, a voice like authority wrapped in softness.
“Let me see him,” he said gently, reaching for Phayu’s arm.
Rain stiffened. No. No, no—
Then another man leaned in, shorter, softer. Eyes kind, smile dipping deep into dimples. His voice was a hush meant only for Rain.
“It’s alright, Nong. We just want to help him. Just a little, hm?”
Rain’s throat closed, a whimper slipping out before he could stop it. The dimples man’s hand brushed his shoulder, light as air. Comfort. Coaxing. Rain let himself shift just enough so they could touch Phayu, but his fingers still locked around Phayu’s wrist like shackles.
From somewhere farther back came a heavier presence. Imposing, steady, with thick eyebrows drawn like thunderclouds.
“Report.”
Words followed, clipped, measured. Rain couldn’t catch them.
Then—another voice. Sharper. Colder. Like steel sliding free of its sheath. Rain flinched before he realized the scary man wasn’t speaking to him. Just standing nearby. Watching. Somehow grounding.
Blankets settled around his shoulders—warm, smelling faintly of cologne and silk. Rain barely noticed. His whole world was Phayu’s pulse beneath his fingertips, each beat too slow, too far apart.
“Stay with me,” Rain whispered, forehead pressed to Phayu’s temple. “Please, please don’t go anywhere.”
The room kept moving around them—orders given, footsteps crossing, hands careful but sure. But Rain’s world stayed small: Phayu’s ragged breathing. The soft tan man’s careful touch. The dimples man’s soothing murmur. Eyebrows standing like a shadow in command. Scary man’s sharp eyes cutting through the noise.
And Rain, curled small against the only person that mattered.
—
Rain didn’t remember being moved from the couch, only that Phayu was no longer right beside him. Someone had pulled Phayu a little further down so the soft tan man could press cloth to his ribs, voices low and urgent. Rain strained forward, ready to crawl after him, when a hand stopped him.
Not rough. Just… light.
“Rain,” the man with dimples said softly, crouching until his eyes were level with Rain’s. Gentle eyes. Smile that didn’t push, only offered. “Let them work on him a moment, hm?”
Rain’s breath hitched. His fingers curled tighter into the blanket bunched around his shoulders. “I—I need—”
“I know.” Dimples’ voice dropped to a hush, like secrets shared under blankets. “But if you’re not looked after too, how will you take care of him when he wakes?”
Rain froze. The words slipped under his panic, hooked in deep.
Dimples reached into a small case someone had placed on the table. A soft cloth, the faint sting of antiseptic, a bandage already ready in his palm. He held it up, showing Rain as if it were something harmless. “Just here,” he murmured, brushing two fingers lightly to Rain’s cheek. “One little cut. Let me help.”
Rain whimpered, instinct tugging him toward Phayu, but the dimples man tilted his head, smile small, steady. Patient.
“Only a minute. Then you can go right back to him.”
Something in his tone—quiet, certain—made Rain’s shoulders sag.
So Rain sat still as the cloth dabbed against his skin. Flinched once at the sting, breath catching, but Dimples shushed him soft. “Shhh… brave boy. Almost done.”
By the time the bandage was pressed over the scrape, Rain’s fists had uncurled from the blanket.
“See?” Dimples smiled again, dimples sinking deep. “Better.”
Rain blinked at him, dazed, and before he realized it, his thoughts had named him. Dimples.
He let out a shaky breath and glanced back to Phayu—still unconscious but breathing—then back at Dimples, who only nodded once.
“Go on,” Dimples murmured. “He’ll need you close when he wakes.”
And Rain slipped right back to Phayu’s side, but this time with his cheek stinging a little less, the blanket still wrapped tight, and Dimples’ gentle voice echoing faint in his ears.
—
Phayu stirred. The movement was so small at first that Rain almost missed it, until his lashes fluttered and a low groan rumbled from his throat.
“P’Phayu…” Rain’s voice cracked, relief bursting like water through a dam as he grabbed Phayu’s hand. His eyes burned, tears slipping free without asking permission.
“Hey, baby.” Phayu’s voice was rough, worn, but steady enough to steady Rain too. A thumb brushed weakly at his cheek. “I’m okay. Don’t cry.”
Rain tried, he really did, but the sniffles came anyway, hiccuping into Phayu’s shoulder.
“He’s okay,” the tanned man cut in, crouching nearby, eyes warm but assessing. “A little banged up, but nothing a few days of rest won’t fix.”
Phayu blinked, finally focusing past Rain—and his eyes widened. “Uncle Porsche.”
The tanned man smiled faintly, a shadow of worry softening his face. He slipped an arm behind Phayu, careful with his ribs, and helped him sit against the cushions. Rain immediately shifted, glued to Phayu’s side, eyes darting as he realized how many people were watching. He shrank back a little, grip tightening on Phayu’s sleeve.
“Venice.”
The deep voice carried weight, making Rain flinch. He turned—met the sharp, unreadable gaze of the scary man in the tailored suit. The one who looked… dangerous.
“Dad,” Phayu breathed, reverence laced in the word.
Rain froze. Dad?
The scary man’s eyes flicked to him, lingering not unkindly. He tipped his head toward Phayu. “I think your little one is anxious in a room full of strangers.”
Rain’s chest seized, the words too close to what he felt, but Phayu’s hand squeezed his tighter.
“Right,” Phayu murmured, glancing around, then back at Rain. “Introductions.”
—
Rain clung tighter when Phayu shifted to lean forward. He didn’t like the weight of all those eyes, didn’t like the hush of the room, how it seemed everyone was waiting for something.
Phayu’s voice broke through, steady despite the bruises coloring his jaw. “These are my parents,” he said softly, squeezing Rain’s hand before nodding toward the scarred man and the one with warm eyes and deep dimples. “My Dad, Vegas. And my Papa, Pete.”
The scarred man inclined his head, unreadable. Beside him, the man with the dimples smiled so brightly it nearly startled Rain. “Hello, darling,” Pete said, gentle as if Rain were a skittish animal about to bolt.
Rain ducked his head, mumbling something that might have been a greeting, but Phayu pressed on.
“These are my uncles,” he gestured carefully, first to the sharp-browed man whose gaze felt like it could pin a person in place, then to the same tanned man who’d helped him sit up earlier. “Uncle Kinn and Uncle Porsche. They are the heads of the family. Uncle Kinn is Dad’s cousin.”
The one with the intimidating brows gave a curt nod, all authority and silence. The tanned man, Uncle Porsche, only offered an easy grin—though Rain noticed his hand rested on his thigh like he was ready to spring up again if needed.
“You already met P’Chai,” Phayu finished, glancing at the stoic man in the dark suit who lingered just behind the couches. The head of the guards, if Rain had pieced it together right.
Rain swallowed hard, clutching Phayu’s hand in both of his now. It was too much—too many powerful faces, too many unknowns—but Phayu’s thumb brushed soothing circles against his knuckles.
—
The low hum of introductions had barely settled when a sharp, unmistakable voice rang down from the stairs.
“What in the hell is going on here?”
Rain jolted, flinching against Phayu’s side at the sudden echo. He hadn’t even realized there was another person in the house—another set of eyes about to turn on him. His heart beat faster, too fast.
The man descended with all the flare of someone used to making an entrance. Rings glittered on his hands, silk flowing around him like a cape. He was loud, yes—but not sloppy. His gaze was sharp, scanning the room until it landed squarely on Phayu…and then on Rain, who tightened his grip as if he could disappear into Phayu’s side.
“Why,” Tankhun’s voice rose, equal parts outrage and disbelief, “is my nephew bruised up like he got into a street fight with ten men? And who,” he pointed imperiously toward Rain, “is that adorable bunny clinging to him like the world’s about to end? And why,” his pitch climbed again, “has no one bothered to update me yet?!”
Rain’s breath caught, his shoulders shaking from the triple assault of questions. Too loud. Too sudden. Everyone watching again. He buried his face into Phayu’s shoulder, muffling a whimper.
“Tankhun—” Porsche started, pushing up as if to intercept.
But Phayu shifted, protective even while still sore, his arm wrapping securely around Rain’s trembling frame. “Uncle,” he said firmly, “please. He’s scared.”
That made Tankhun pause mid-step. He blinked, his painted brows drawing together as he took in the way Rain trembled against Phayu. Some of the fire in his voice softened into something sharper, more dangerous—protectiveness.
“Oh, sweetheart…” Tankhun said, voice dropping to something far gentler than before. He stopped at the foot of the stairs, no longer looming, and fixed the room with a glare instead. “Whoever laid a hand on my nephew—” his gaze flicked briefly to Phayu before sweeping the rest of the family, “—is going to regret it.”
Rain kept his face pressed into Phayu’s shoulder, willing himself smaller. The room was too full, the air too heavy with eyes on him, voices echoing louder than his thoughts could keep up with.
But then…soft steps, unhurried, came closer. A rustle of silk.
“Hey,” Tankhun said, his voice lower now, rich and coaxing, the kind of tone one might use with a frightened animal or a nervous child. “No need to hide those pretty eyes, little bunny. I’m not here to bite.”
Rain’s fingers curled tighter into Phayu’s shirt, but he peeked—just barely—out at the man now crouched to their level. Tankhun was all glitter and drama, but his smile was gentle, his eyes intent in a way that felt safe rather than sharp.
“You know,” Tankhun went on conspiratorially, leaning closer as if sharing a secret, “when I was your age, I used to do the same thing. Cling onto the person I trusted most and wish the world would stop staring.” His hand fluttered in a graceful wave. “It never worked, of course. I’m too fabulous to be ignored.”
The joke drew a few chuckles from around the room, but Tankhun’s focus didn’t waver from Rain. “But you know what? It’s okay. You don’t have to talk. You don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want to. Just know…” His jeweled hand hovered, careful not to touch without permission, “…that you’re safe here. With us. With family.”
Rain blinked, uncertainty warring with the fragile trust in Phayu’s steady presence beside him. His throat worked before a whisper broke out, muffled but audible:
“P’Phayu…?”
Phayu’s arm squeezed him closer. “It’s okay, baby. This is my uncle. He just wants to say hi.”
Tankhun’s smile softened even further. “Just hi. Nothing scary, promise.”
He tilted his head, exaggerating a comical pout. “Though, if you really want to hide, I suppose I could lend you one of my capes. Much better camouflage.”
This time, Rain made a small sound—half a hiccup, half a stifled laugh—that loosened the tight knot in his chest.
The sudden slam of the door had everyone flinching.
“I need help!” Macau’s voice cracked through the air like gunfire. He was wild-eyed, chest heaving as though he’d sprinted up the stairs. “Our ward was taken. We need to save him.”
The room erupted.
“Who?” Porsche barked, already half-rising.
“Ward?” Kinn’s brows pulled tight.
“What are you talking about?” Pete’s voice, confused but edged with dread.
“Macau!” Vegas snapped, alarm lacing his son’s name.
“I’ll explain everything later, Hia.” Macau’s words were sharp, clipped, desperate. “But we have to move now—”
A fragile sound broke through the urgency. A sniffle.
Macau froze mid-breath, his eyes darting toward the corner of the room. There—small, trembling—Rain clung to Phayu like a lifeline, his wide eyes brimming, on the verge of cracking under the pressure of too much sound, too many people.
“…Co-Cau.”
The lisp was soft, broken, the mangled syllables catching Macau off guard. His heart lurched.
“Rainy,” Macau breathed, his voice dropping instantly from frantic to tender. His steps rounded the couch, unhurried now, gaze locked on the boy tucked into Phayu’s arms. “Sunshine, you’re safe. I’ve got you.”
The reassurance was warm, but Rain only trembled harder, teetering on the thin line of overwhelm. The world was loud, too loud, too sharp—until—
“I told you. He’s safe.”
The new voice cut through everything, steady and familiar, wrapping around Rain like a shield. A voice that meant safety. Protection. Home.
Rain’s head whipped toward the doorway, eyes lighting up through the haze of tears. The dam finally broke, his body sagging into Phayu’s hold as his small voice cracked with relief—
“Mama!!”
—
Kim stood there, posture composed but wound tight. The lines of his body spoke of a simmering fury barely leashed, the kind that could turn lethal if pushed. At his side, Chay hovered, his worried eyes darting across the room until they landed on the boy curled up on the couch.
Kim’s gaze followed. And for a fleeting moment, the hard edges softened.
Rain’s breath hitched. Recognition burst across his features. And then—like the dam had finally given way—he launched forward, ungainly with the weight of his adult frame but desperate with the single-mindedness of a child.
“Mama! Mama! Mama!” The word tumbled out like a mantra, clung to like air, as Rain buried his face in Kim’s neck. His arms locked tight around Kim’s shoulders, shaking. His mind slipped further back, safe at last in the one anchor strong enough to hold him.
Kim caught him without flinching, his arm sliding easily under Rain’s bottom, lifting him as though he were still seven. The other hand threaded through Rain’s hair, gentle, steady, grounding.
“It’s okay, sunshine,” Kim murmured, voice soft in a way that cut through every noise in the room. “You’re safe now. Your P’Phayu kept you safe.”
Rain shuddered at the reassurance, the last of his fight draining out as he clung tighter. Kim’s hold was unyielding, solid, his words wrapping Rain in the kind of safety only he could give.
—
Kim lowered himself onto the sofa beside Phayu, settling with Rain still curled tight against his neck. Rain’s fists hadn’t loosened from his shirt, even as Kim coaxed him into his lap.
Chay slipped down beside Kim, close but careful, his eyes darting between Rain and Phayu. The shift of the cushion drew Rain’s attention, his lashes fluttering as he peeked sideways.
“Papa,” Rain breathed, soft and tired, relief wrapped in the word.
Chay’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. He leaned in slightly, tone warm, coaxing. “Hello, Rainbow. That was scary, huh?”
“Yeah,” Rain whispered, voice muffled against Kim. “But P’Phayu came to save me. But he got beaten up. But then scary guard Phi came and saved us.”
Chay blinked, confusion flickering. “Scary guard phi?”
“He means P’Chai, Uncle Chay,” Phayu supplied, his tone quiet, still processing.
Rain shifted enough to glance at Phayu, eyes wide with lingering fear and something like wonder. “P’Phayu, you know Papa?”
“Yes, I do, baby.” Phayu’s lips curved faintly, though the confusion never left his eyes. “He is Uncle Porsche’s little brother.”
The words seemed to ripple outward like a stone breaking the surface of still water.
“Who?”
“How—?”
“What?!”
The room erupted all at once, shock snapping everyone from their frozen state.
“Who?!” Porsche’s voice cracked sharp, half in disbelief.
“Since when?” Kinn demanded at the same time, tone rough, sharp as a knife.
“What the hell does that mean—your ward?!” Pete’s voice rose in confusion, equal parts worry and exasperation.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!” Vegas, almost snarling, eyes flicking between Macau and Kim.
“Mama? Did he just call you mama?!” Tankhun gasped, clutching at his chest with dramatic flair, though the alarm in his voice was very real.
“And Papa?!” Kinn again, his incredulity doubling. “Since when did you—”
“It’s complicated!” Macau cut in, his voice raised above theirs, frantic but urgent. “There’s no time for this—”
“Don’t tell me it’s complicated, explain it!” Porsche barked.
“Macau!” Vegas snapped, frustrated, almost losing his grip on his brother.
Through it all, Rain flinched, whimpering softly, pressing himself closer into Kim’s chest.
Kim’s expression tightened, a line of steel running through his composure. His voice cut like a low chord through the noise.
“Enough.”
The room stilled on instinct, heads snapping toward him.
Kim shifted, one arm steady under Rain, his other hand carding through auburn hair with gentle precision. His voice, soft for Rain but sharp to the rest, carried over the silence.
“You want answers? You’ll have them. But not at the expense of my sunshine’s peace.”
Rain’s muffled whisper followed, tremoring against Kim’s collar.
“Mama… Papa… too loud.”
Kim pressed his cheek to Rain’s hair. “I know, baby. I know.”
“These two have had a long day. Let them move to Ven’s room and rest,” Kim said, standing with Rain still tucked against his chest like a child.
“P’Phayu…” Rain’s tired voice trembled, one small hand stretching out as Chay and Macau helped Phayu to his feet.
“Right behind you, baby,” Phayu rasped, extending his hand until Rain’s fingers caught his. He ignored the way his body ached; the warmth of Rain’s touch was enough anchor.
They moved quietly down the hall, away from the noise, into the softer shadows of Phayu’s bedroom. Kim laid Rain gently onto the mattress first, then steadied Phayu as he sat, coaxing him to lean back against the headboard. Rain, however, immediately rolled toward him, latching onto Phayu’s side with a stubborn grip.
When Kim shifted to pull away, Rain’s hands clutched desperately at his shirt.
“Mama, no.”
Kim stilled, gaze softening, one hand smoothing over Rain’s auburn hair. “Sunshine, you need to rest. Phayu needs to rest too.”
Rain shook his head with surprising force for someone so exhausted.
Chay leaned down, coaxing gently. “How about this, Sunshine? You cuddle with your P’Phayu, and Co-Cau and Papa will stay here until you fall asleep.”
Rain’s eyes fluttered, fighting sleep, but still suspicious. “…Mama go?”
Kim brushed strands of hair off his forehead, voice low and steady. “Yeah, Mama has to talk with all the uncles downstairs.”
Big brown eyes blinked up, wet and worried. “…Mama safe?”
A small, almost playful curve tugged at Kim’s lips. He feigned offense. “Don’t worry, baby. Do you think Mama is weak?”
Rain gasped, scandalized. “No! Mama strong!”
“Right. So Mama needs to go downstairs and keep the uncles quiet so my Sunshine can rest, yes?” Kim’s thumb lingered over Rain’s temple, tender but resolute.
“…Okay.” Rain whispered finally, his lashes drooping.
Kim pressed a kiss to his hair before carefully extricating himself, letting Rain curl tighter into Phayu’s side.
Throughout it all, Phayu hadn’t moved, his body sore but his eyes fixed—watching every word, every gentle brush of fingers, every soft smile. Watching Rain cling to Kim and Chay like lifelines. Watching Kim and Chay balance firmness and comfort until Rain finally relented.
Fascination wasn’t the right word, not entirely. It was awe. Quiet, sharp awe, lodging in Phayu’s chest like an ache he didn’t know how to name.
As Kim went out the room and Chay and Macau settled down on the loveseat in Phayu’s room, Phayu’s eyes followed the curve of Rain’s lashes as they fluttered shut against his chest, his breathing evening out with each small sigh. Kim’s words, Chay’s coaxing, Rain’s desperate clutch—they looped in Phayu’s mind like pieces of a puzzle he didn’t yet know how to fit together.
Questions pressed at him, sharp and insistent, but the weight in his bones was heavier. His body demanded surrender.
Later, he promised himself. Answers could wait. For now, Rain was warm in his arms, and sleep pulled him under like the tide.