Chapter Text
Porsche was eight and in an unknown place. Too dark to be home, too empty and yet filled with so many cold things he felt like he wasn't allowed to touch. A man in a suit was staring at him as if he was a mere inconvenience in his routine. Something in his stare unsettled Porsche and made him hold his brother even closer to him. He was waiting at the door for his Uncle to come out and take them away from this place. To their home.
Uncle Thee promised to take him and Chay to his grandpa and it should make him happy. To see his family. But grandpa Pra died when Porsche was six, he remembers being at a funeral and his father tears. He didn’t know there might be someone else beside him. For as long as Porsche remembered it after grandpa Pra and grandma Fern died there were only his parents and uncle Arthee. And now it was only uncle Arthee. So to meet more of his family should make him happy, or at least something. But he didn’t want more family. He wanted Ma and Pa back and beside this strange mansion was unknown to him as was the strange voice talking to his uncle and it made Porsche unsettled.
His brother, as if feeling the tension in the way he was holding him, buried himself even further into his stomach, he was also staying unusually quiet. As if trying to escape the attention of the man in black, Porsche wished he could do that too. Bury himself into some space, run away far from this cold place, but he promised his Ma he would take care of Chay so he had to be strong now. So he held his brother, his back straight and told himself he isn’t scared, he can’t be. He wanted to reassure him too but he was afraid that his voice might be too loud in those empty halls, carry itself too far where he couldn’t take it back anymore and be lost, haunting the rooms long after he would be gone. He can’t imagine this man in black would be okay with him tainting this mansion that way so he stayed quiet and settled on rubbing comforting circles on his brother’s back.
He strained his ears to hear the discussion behind the doors that were left ajar - on purpose? Porsche didn’t know. But he felt it important, even at eight years old he could feel whatever was being discussed should matter to him. The voices were low at first, too low to hear no matter how much he tried.
Until he didn’t hear his uncle shout. “They are just kids! Your grandchildren nonetheless!”
“I don’t have grandchildren.” A firm voice echoed through the walls, through Porsche’s skin too, settling on his bones, like a slow-acting poison, slowly meant to spread all over your body just to kill you.
“But Namphung…”
“My daughter was dead long before she bore me any heirs. The whore who birthed those kids” he spitted out the word kids as if it was something bitter he needed to get out of his mouth as quickly as he could “...didn’t have any rights to the legacy she abandoned anymore, nor her bastards.”
Porsche then heard the squeak of the chair being moved and the man in front of them twitched, as if reaching for something. If he wasn’t already looking at him, he would probably miss the movement completely.
“I have been merciful in hearing you out, as of the sentiment for my daughter but this was a waste of my time.” The voice now wasn’t as loud in volume but Porsche didn’t have to strain to hear him anymore.
The door swung open and a man stepped through them. He was dressed in a dark green suit and to Porsche, at that moment, felt bigger than life. He carried himself with an air of omnipotent power and danger.
He made him feel small and then his calculated eyes moved onto him and Chay for just a brief moment and…
He snorted, as if amused or exasperated. Porsche didn’t know.
But it somehow hurt more than if he had slapped him, the sound still ringing in his ears when uncle Arthit stumbled behind him, covering both him and Chay with his body as if it was needed. The man, his grandfather, already turned around and was walking away. Leaving them behind. The sound of footsteps followed. Heavy, echoing through empty halls, haunting. All Porsche could hear in them was the sound of another person in his life leaving.
He flinched when the warm hand of his uncle settled on his shoulder guiding him out of this building.
“I’ll take care of you both then.” His uncle promised just as Porsche promised himself in his mind he will never find himself here, in this house again.
Both of those promises, like thin glass, no matter how pretty, were too easily breakable for the violent world they lived in.
Porsche breathed in smoke into his lungs. The bitter taste soon spread in his mouth, he could feel the faint scratching at the back of his throat. He dipped his head upwards to blow it out filling good after the fuck he just had and now the cigarette. A faint escape from the stress of his life, a momentary distraction. His companion - a pretty rich girl - already left, the only traces of her were light scratches on Porsche’s back, an lingering smell of expansive flowery perfume and a deep feeling of spent satisfaction in his bones caused by the sex.
In a way the lady and the cigarette were the same, a brief drag that only satisfied him for as long as it lasted - usually not long - and then both disappeared leaving only the memory of quick gratification and the lingering smell on his clothes and skin. Porsche didn’t care as long as he could get himself even a moment of much needed relaxation.
Which never lasts long in his life, proven by the bang and the steps he hears just when his muscles start easing up. He bolts upright immediately and into full awareness.
A man ran into the alley and Porsche wanted to curse the universe.
The alley behind Yok’s bar smelled a mixture of piss, alcohol, smoke and sex. There shouldn’t be a stranger that looked like his suit was worth more than every bottle of the alcohol they had inside combined.
And yet there he was, standing just a few steps away from Porsche, clearly winded from running here from who knows where. But even disheveled and breathing erratically the stranger looked elegant and put together.
As if he still had some upper hand, a control over the situation he clearly hadn’t. He oozed excesses of money and power .
It was clear the stranger was the kind of person who always has everyone under his thumb, an air of omnipotent power and danger that Porsche was way too familiar with.
He was danger and trouble. Everything Porsche was supposed to stay clear of, the thought to avoid the situation arose in Porsche’s brain and as five men ran into the alley after the stranger it only amplified in urgency.
And Porsche should listen. Should shuffle his way past the goons and pretend he never saw anything, avert his eyes and ears and mind his fucking buisness.
But then the stranger’s gaze pierce through him, commanding and heavy and if Porsche wasn’t already on alert he would be under that gaze. “Help me!” he demanded, with an authority in his voice as if it was Porsche’s obligation to do so.
It should make Porsche roll his eyes and go another way. Porsche should know better, did know better then to obey. This man was good for nothing and only would bring trouble.
But fuck, he never claimed to be the smart one, only the one that took care of shit and right now he was pumped out with the trill of danger, hungry and in need of money, that the guy seemed to be in excessive possesion of. His mouth made a decision for him even before his brain could.
“Fifty thousand. ”
A fight and one ride later he found himself going home with a watch - that if he’s lucky going to cover most of Chay’s tuition - and hope of this being his and the irritating stranger's first and last meeting.
And for a while it seemed like it really was going to be.
The relative peace lasted a week and Porsche, against everything life thought him found himself relaxing - maybe he was lucky, just this one time in his life. And then he came home from his shift at Yok’s. He had a good time at work, Tem and Jom came to hang around, Yok was feeling indulgent today so he was a bit pleasantly tipsy. His guard down, his head high, a small smile on his face and even bigger hope in his heart that maybe things were looking out for him.
A foolish lamb walking unaware straight into the slaughter.
The whole living room was trashed, there was glass and pieces of broken wood on the floor, the cushions thrown off the couch, it was a clear message. And in the middle of that was Chay, kneeling and holding a broken frame. Uncle Arthee just next to him with a comforting hand on his shoulder.
A surge of panic ran through Porsche, a sizable regret for letting himself relax and then guilt. Guilt for bringing Chay into the inevitable mess that the watch guy is going to create in their life. It was never supposed to happen and yet he allowed himself to be foolish and reckless.
He was kneeling beside Chay checking on him quicker than Chay could even notice that he entered the house.
"Was it that rich asshole? Are you okay? Did he come for the watch? I'm so sorry Chay" He was gently cradling Chay's face in his hands checking for injuries. A white panic cursed through his veins.
"What asshole? What watch? What are you talking about, Hia?" Chay's confused voice sounded clear in the silent room and suddenly Porsche found himself confused too.
He looked to his uncle for help and then he froze. On the sight of his face a sort of understanding that he hopes is wrong dawned on him. He stepped away from Chay.
"Uncle?"
“Porsche, I’m so sorry, I fucked up.” Arthee had a matching sorry expression on his face. One Porsche knew all too well. “I fucked up badly, please forgive me.”
“What did you do?” Slowly all the emotions were leaving Porsche’s body. A feeling of resignation and tiredness started to creep in. It was a familiar situation and it brought Porsche a bit of relief. Even if they were screwed, they were screwed in a way he dealt with before.
“I really am sorry Porsche.” Arthee dug out a black card that had a silver snake with a crown engraved on its front. Porsche knew the sign. His blood started boiling.
“Outside.” Porsche barely managed to get the word out from behind his gritted teeth. He felt himself shaking with anger. There were no traces of the guilt that was consuming him earlier. He cast a quick look at Chay, visibly softening on the sight of him. That’s why the younger had to stay though, Porsche couldn't allow himself to be soft with his uncle anymore. “You stay here.”
“But-” Chay started in a whiny tone but Porsche just shot him a look and walked out.
Breathing fresh air should help him calm down but his anger felt bigger than he himself was at the moment.
Their uncle barely stepped out from the house before Porsche was throwing him at the nearest wall.
“What. Did. You. Do?” He gritted out every word, accented it by pushing Arthee further into the wall. He felt like a wild snarling animal, baring teeth and claws. His uncle’s eyes held fear and Porsche felt a pang of satisfaction at that. He deserved to fear him if he did what Porsche was thinking.
“It was just a couple of games! I swear Porsche! I thought I would be able to give it back!” The man's eyes were pleading and under any other circumstances Porsche’s shoulders would sag with resignation and tiredness and he would step out and clap his uncle’s shoulder and say they will figure out something together and mean that he will figure out something and all would be water under the bridge. Just like he always had done. Just as he thought he always will do.
But this was not water under the bridge, this was a tsunami that Porsche knew was able to shake all of their lives, drown not only him and Arthi but pull Chay down with them and Porsche cannot allow that.
The black card with a King Cobra was not a wake up call, it was an alarm that was already too late.
“How much?” His uncle's eyes shot downwards, ashamed, he was shaking clearly emotional. Porsche felt too angry and simultaneously too numb to feel any sympathy for him. The black card between them like a gallon of fuel for his rage. After a moment of silence Porsche roughly shoved him further into the wall. “How much, uncle?!”
“2 million baht.” Porsche heard, said in a faint voice, so quietly that if he wasn’t practically in Arthee’s face he wouldn’t probably hear it. He felt himself straightening as if a shock of electricity ran through his whole spine. He suddenly felt charged like the air before, just on the edge of snapping .
“Get out.”
“What? Porsche, you don’t mean that.” He stepped out of his uncle's space, retracting his limbs so there was no point of contact between them.
“Get out!” He snapped. Arthee looked at him startled and then turned his back. Suddenly he faced Porsche, who tensed at the movement, again.
“I’ve raised you and Chay… took you in when he didn’t… cutting me off like that? Have you thought it through?” Porsche kept his face expressionless.
He did, he thought it through too many times, too many nights not sleeping because of the nagging worry about money, about his loans, about the sharks that would come because of him. This was a long time coming decision that Porsche wanted to never make. But Chay was inside the thrashed house and Arthee was holding a card with a sign engraved on it that Porsche swore he would never see again. He said none of this. Just stood there and watched as his uncle nodded and started walking again. “ He wanted to meet with you .”
He didn’t answer. Arthee just let the card fall on the ground and resumed walking. Porsche felt frozen, all he could do was watch him leave. Every step he took was quiet, a different sound of leaving than Porsche was used to.
When he couldn’t see him anymore, he felt himself sag. Like a doll cut out of its strings. He picked up the card and walked into the house again.
The floor was littered with broken glass.
Walking into the mansion felt like a fever dream. Or rather a nightmare, Porsche used to have a lot of them about this place when he was younger. The man in black that flinched that day actually fired a gun and Porsche ended up holding a dead little Chay in his arms, uncle Arthee never came out of the room behind the big door, his grandfather upon the sight of the two of them ordered them both to be killed. Every scenario his brain could think of - he dreamt about.
And now he was here again. The card simply had the silver cobra in a crown - a sign of his grandfather, one he forced himself to know all about to avoid being exactly where he is right now - an address and seven words written in neat rich handwriting. i’m looking forward to meeting my grandchildren .
Even if Porsche didn’t recognize the symbol, there would be no mistaking from who that message is. He didn’t bring Chay into this, this time he was here alone.
He remembered these halls differently, memories distorted by time and the child's mind proved themselves less scary and grand in reality. The rooms were smaller, the roofs lower. The decorations that once made the place look cluttered with golds and diamonds now only looked like a rich man trying to show off his wealth - a pathetic attempt at a power display.
But the echo stayed the same, loud and daunting.
He is walking behind a man in a suit, a bodyguard, who is leading him through the maze of the rooms to the office he didn’t get to see last time. The one where everything happened.
It's almost eerie to walk into the room. Porsche expects the floor to open up and suck him in or maybe he's eight again and his uncle is there and this time around he laughs with his grandfather about the "bastards" that Namphung left in her death. Porsche expects this to be another nightmare that he is going to wake up from a little sweaty and winded.
But it isn't. He walks into the room and everything is presumably normal. The ground doesn't open up, he hasn't become an eight year old, his uncle isn't there.
He isn't going to wake up.
This is a reality and somehow that hits him with a force of a thousand small knives directed at his heart and suddenly it's hard not to stumble.
Norang Kittisawat also known as Silver Kobra is standing before him and he cannot allow himself the privilege of being human.
His grandfather measures him with his look. The mansion wasn't the only thing that changed since Porsche was eight.
Standing right in front of him with a glass of golden liquid in a dark blue suit stands a man that no longer seems larger than life. Logically he knows him to still be as powerful as he was when Porsche was a child - one move of his finger and Porsche could be only a distant memory of an unpleasant morning and a trouble for the cleaning staff - and yet he found himself less afraid of him.
What he found himself to be is angry. Hot, white anger simmered under his skin like thousands of parasites that are supposed to eat him alive from the inside. He felt himself dead already with the force of his resentment - a bitter sort of thing sitting on the tip of his tongue, waiting to be spewed out.
"You've grown into a quite handsome young man." A smooth, somewhat pleasant voice reached him. He scoffed.
"And you've grown old." He threw himself on the chair standing opposite to the man. He saw Narong's eyes twitching, already irritated and some petty part of Porsche found himself delighted with that reaction. "No need for formalities grandpa , we both know why I'm here, I'm going to give you the money my uncle owes you, I just need some time."
"Oh you are?" Something like amusement showed on the man's face and Porsche was impulsive and not the smartest person in the world but even he knew to restrain his instinct that wanted to claw. That wanted to trash this place and bite the man in front of him until he draws enough blood to kill.
He wasn't a killer but he knew the man in front of him to be.
"I will." He gritted out. "So you don't need to worry about your fucking money and we both can go to pretending the other doesn't exist." To further feign nonchalance he didn't feel he started tinkering with the stuff that was put on the desk nearby and he could reach it without getting out of the chair.
"Ah, so handsome and resourceful then. Perfect. You have grown nicely into just the man I need." Treating him like an angry toddler that's having an outburst his grandfather continues to be amused which only eggs Porsche more. Narong as if unaware or simply ignoring the outraged expression on Porsche's face continues. "I need you to step in as my heir."
Porsche waits a beat.
Then two.
Then he starts laughing, full on belly laugh, a little hysteria and mockery mixed in. It doesn't loosen him up tho, only makes the lines of his shoulders tense further.
Narong just waits until he stops.
"Oh you're actually serious?" Porsche looks at him baffled. "Why on earth would I do that?"
"If you do that, your uncle's debt will be simply forgotten." He spread his hands in an 'all is fair' gesture.
"Different question then, why would you want a bastard like me to do it?" Porsche could see the beginning of a smirk play out on Narong's face.
"Ah and smart too. Definitely your mother's son."
"You have no fucking right to talk about my mother." He barked and his grandfather only laughed as if delighted by this reaction. "Get to the fucking point old man."
"And Namphung's temper too." This time Porsche stayed silent not wanting to give him the satisfaction of his reaction. "Well I must admit it was not entirely my idea. You see, your mother was supposed to marry a respectful man. A Theerapanyakun . But she refused and went on to marry your father . " He spat out father like he spat out kids fifteen years ago. "But Korn Theerapanyakul is merciful and said that with you - a child of Namphung we can try again. His son - his heir is to be married. To you."
Porsche found himself laughing again.
"You must be crazy to think I would agree."
"You must be crazy, dear grandson, to oppose me. " Porsche stared for a bit at the man he spent years being afraid of.
"Fuck you, I won't do it." Porsche jumped out of the chair. "I will bring you the money by the end of the month." He turned towards the door, ready for the strike, wary to have its back to the snake that is known for biting.
"You'll regret this." Narong only said in a warning tone. Porsche snorted.
"I highly doubt that."
And he started to walk out. His footsteps echoed in the hallways. A triumphant kind of noise. Then he remembers. He looks at the place where he stood with Chay fifteen years ago trying so hard not to make a noise. He takes a deep breath.
"FUCK YOU! AND FUCK YOUR MONEY TOO!" He hopes the echo will carry this scream into every room, that his voice will haunt every silence there will be in this house.
And then he rans for his bike, all high on adrenaline and anger and he doesn't remember the ride home.
But Chay is waiting at home and on the sight of him all the adrenaline and anger leaves him and all he can feel is the horror of what he did.
He just defied one of the most powerful men in Thailand. Porsche is so screwed.
This time around Porsche doesn't let himself relax. It has been a day since his interaction with his grandfather and so far nothing happened. Porsche is ready for the shoe to drop. So when he walks into Yok's bar and finds it full of shady men in suits, bodyguards, he finds himself tense but not surprised. He walks in cautiously, expecting his grandfather to sit there.
The watch guy from a week ago is a surprise but at this rate Porsche muses that if life is to fuck him over it might as well do it on both sides.
He is dressed in a light ombre suit and doesn't spare Porsche even a glance.
Yok reveals his name and Porsche loves her but wants to strangle her right now. But he also gains the watch guy's name - Kinn.
"His name is Porsche?" Kinn still doesn't look at him but says his name in a way that Porsche can't pinpoint. "I thought it was something else."
There is humor behind those words, some kind of teasing, an asshole power play.
Porsche wants to snarl but he enraged one powerful rich asshole this week he doesn't need another after him.
"Can I have a talk with the bar's favorite?" And just like that Yok leaves but not without shooting Porsche a glare. He will have to explain a lot to her later, he knows.
The guy makes gestures for him with his finger and Porsche wants to bite it just out of petty principle. He doesn't.
"If you came here for the watch, I don't have it" It's the first time the Kinn's eyes land on him and Porsche feels scrutinized under the hot stare.
"No, I didn't come here for it. Actually…" He trails off and then lifts a hand to show off the watch, firmly placed again on his wrist. "...I think you have been robbed. This watch is worth at least 2 million." The men studied him for a moment and then smirked. "And you can have it… as a gift."
Porsche started gaping, he was sure he was looking ridiculous and Kinn's satisfied and bemused expression only confirmed it.
"Why the fuck would you willingly gift me something worth 2 million?" Kinn shifted and leaned into his space.
His eyes bored into Porsche's with an intensity matching only the sun. Porsche felt himself transfixed, maybe in a different universe, in a gentler timeline he would give in to this stare and give Kinn everything he wanted. But that must have been a different Porsche too, a gentler one, more settled in his skin, because this one just got the urge to fight and trash and make Kinn the one feeling pinned under his gaze.
"I don't think we were properly introduced. Kinn Theerapanyakun." Suddenly a flash of his grandfather appeared in his mind, a talk about a marriage. With this guy. Porsche felt himself tense up.
"My grandfather sent you." It wasn't a question, just a bare statement. Kinn laughed. "What do you want?"
"Ah, ah, business later, first, make me a drink.”
Under different circumstances Porsche would be marching over the bar with a flourish and a smile expecting to walk off with a handsome tip after the interaction.
This is not that kind of circumstance.
Under this circumstance Porsche does everything cautiously, never taking his eyes off Kinn. There was some kind of danger rolling off in waves of him and Porsche was damned to let Kinn pull him in in his bubble. He might act all charming right now but under the pleasantries there were five men stationed at the bar.
He made him his fucking drink. Kinn made a satisfied hum.
"This is good." Porsche wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to murmur fucking rich people and get on with his day. But this rich man was apparently his husband to be. Not if Porsche had anything to say though.
"Get on with it already. What do you want?" Kinn sighed as if Porsche was being particularly difficult.
"I think this discussion warrants more… quiet environment." Kinn almost purred the words out clearly enjoying the power he had over Porsche right now. Porsche barely restrained himself from kicking him.
"I'm not going anywhere with you." He stated firmly, unstoppable force meets immovable object and all.
"Shame… I would feel sorry If anything were to happen to this fine environment." But the object had everything to lose if force were to crash in it.
Kinn's finger was tracing the rim of the glass, his voice was low, mere above a whisper. This was a different kind of power then the one his grandfather possessed. His grandfather tried to make himself the biggest in the room, to exemplify the feeling of being larger than life.
Kinn was nothing like that and yet even the more powerful for that. If he wasn't actively threatening him - Porsche would be a little impressed by it.
He left the stool he was sitting at and Porsche had no choice but to follow. He really should have expected the fucking bag coming. Dirty fucking mafiosos and their affairs.
He feels the bag being lifted from his head.
Then Kinn starts reciting his own life back to him; it both amuses and terrifies him.
"Did you take me here only to recite my own life back to me?" Be asks and Kinn looks at him for a moment as if deciding what to say.
"Marry me." He settles on and it's not a request. Porsche thinks that Kinn is not one to request things, only demand. It has the same air to it as the command that started their relationship. Porsche laughed hysterically. At this point he thought it was the only way he's gonna laugh if this is how his life is shaping to be.
"If kidnappings are your romantic idea of proposal then I fear what other Hades and Persephone bullshit fantasies you have there in your pretty head." He said leaning as much as he could into Kinn's space. Taunting with glee. All the thoughts about not angering any more rich assholes thrown to the wind. He thinks it's only fair if the rich assholes are gonna kidnap him anyway.
"Glad to know you think I'm pretty." Kinn leans even further as if showing Porsche he isn't afraid. Porsche spits in his face and sees one of the guys on the boat twitching forward. Kinn lifts his hand in the general direction of the guy to stop him. Porsche sends him a smile from above Kinn's shoulder and sees the ponytail guy's annoyed face. It feels him with glee as much as it can in his position.
Kinn steps away from him and turns his back, as if showing how unbothered he is by Porsche's antics. How little of a threat he is to him. Bad fucking move.
Porsche in that moment gets out of the binds. He was raised on the shady streets of Bangkok - getting out of some rope tied on his wrist is how to survive 101 for him.
The bodyguards move to restrain him again but Kinn motions for them to stay back.
Kinn and his power moves , Porsche cranes his neck, he's gonna make him regret this one.
The fight is even, too even for Porsche's liking. Kinn is a skilled and experienced fighter. He does have one flaw though - he plays it way too fair and Porsche is a street dog not afraid to reach for dirty bones on the side of the road.
So he grabs his dick. Hard and what he knows must be painful. Kinn makes a pained groan and hauls him by the neck.
"Ah ah no touching that area before the wedding night sweetheart." He grits out and Porsche sees red.
"Don't be such a prude." He responds and then bites the juncture between his shoulder and neck. Hard. Kinn screams and lets him go. Porsche sees this as the chance that this is. He takes a run for it and makes it to the deck when he hears the sound of the gun being fired.
He spins, frustrated. He was so fucking close.
"I'm sorry… I got a little impatient…" Kinn says not looking or sounding even a little bit sorry. Porsche has had about enough. He lets out a frustrated noise.
"Be your husband? I would rather die!" He jumps out of the boat and into the water. He prays he won't die.
He doesn't, he gets home by evening. Kinn doesn't come back from him that day but he doesn't sleep anyway. He has a feeling he doesn't get to run away that easily.
The next day there is a knock at his door and when he opens it he immediately regrets it for being right. He almost wants to scream at the universe, why the fuck can he have a break from this shit?
At the door stands a man, probably in his mid thirties, maybe older, dressed in all black. Porsche at this point is sick of seeing people in black suits. But this one? This one doesn’t look like one of his grandfather’s lackeys, this one doesn’t even look like one of Kinn’s. He stands there completely relaxed yet sirius with an already irritated air about him as if he was the one wasting his time. He was looking at Porsche like he was probably looking at the door earlier - like an object that is in the way, an easily breakable one. Porsche barely restrained himself from shuddering.
“Khun Korn wishes to see you.” And fuck Porsche made a lot of stupid decidions these past two weeks but even he knows this one would not only be stupid - this one would be deadly if he refused.
“Can I atleast throw on some shirt or are we giving him a strip tease too?” The guy’s mouth twitched, barely and then he raised his eyebrow at him expectantly as if saying well get to it .
Porsche gets to it, cursing himself out the whole time and the way to yet another mansion.
When Porsche first sees infamous Korn Theerapanyakun this was not what he was expecting. Dressed in a comfortable-looking sweater vest and sitting on a comfortable looking armchair with a warm smile on his face is a perfect picture of a loving and wise elderly man. A tea set and a chessboard are laid on the coffee table before him. Opposite him is a matching armchair to which he gestures to Porsche to sit at.
Porsche stays rooted to his spot not moving an inch. Korn just smiles at him platicingly.
"Would you at least like some tea?" He asks and Porsche gets reminded of when he was younger and he visited his grandparents with his dad. Grandma Fern always had tea and biscuits for him ready.
"I'm not really a tea person." He says and Korn sighs.
"I know you must not have the best impression of me." Porsche wants to snort. He and Narong were in kahoots about how to dictate Porsche's life and his son kidnapped him just a day ago. He might not be directly involved with these two incidents but he was the one pulling the strings. "But I'm doing this all in your best interest."
This time Porsche does snort. Korn's assessing eyes settle on him for the first time this morning and he feels himself straightening. Tense as a string that is about to snap. His gazes turn warm but Porsche doesn't relax.
"Humor me then at least and play a game with me." He gestures to the chessboard and Porsche knows better than to say no to him twice in a row. He sits in the armchair and it is absolutely as comfortable as it looks like. "Do you know how to play?"
"I do, although I'm not any good at it I'm afraid." Korn lets him be white and make the first move. Porsche feels like it's a test. After a few moves Korn makes a noise and Porsche feels like he got some result that he anticipated.
"Your mother used to play this opening." Porsche's eyes snapped from the board back to the man in front of him. "Fighters - the both of you. She always was too impatient for chess but was a delight to play against." Porsche stayed silent not knowing if he wants to know whatever this man has to say about his mother but curious as to where it's going. "Your mother was very dear to me. You see, we grew up together. I knew her probably the best in the universe - safe for your father. I don't think anyone got her as much as your father did, he understood the parts of her I could never grasp. I was glad she fought her way out and I was sad to hear she was dead. And then, two weeks ago I heard she had children. Two of them." Korn looked at him warmly with all the fatherly affection he was deprived of when his father died. It made him more uncomfortable than comforted." This arrangement between me and Narong, while made for political reasons, is also a way for me to take care of my dear friend's children. The way she would have wanted." Porsche found himself rolling his eyes.
"I highly doubt my mother would want me to marry a rich mafia heir and would consider it for my own good ." Korn made a move bringing Porsche back to the game.
"Maybe not, but sure she would wish for a better life for your brother… Chay is it?" He froze mid-move. Korn laughed. "No need to worry, he is safe, our people won't touch him." It didn't make him worry any less, Korn's word was worth to him even less than his uncle's but he made himself forcibly relax. He couldn't show fear right now, not in front of this man.
"It is Porchay, sir." He said as casually as he could.
"Don't you want a good life for him?" Korn asked and both of them knew it was a rhetorical question. The whole of Porsche's life was for Chay. "If you agree to marry my son you will be taken care of, your little brother will be taken care of, his school paid for, his protection guaranteed."
Porsche lifted his gaze from the game again. Korn knew what buttons to press and right now he was playing the right cards. Porsche thinks of Chay, Chay who wants to go to the pricey prestigious college and needs to be fed and new clothes and who needs the money this could guarantee. He swallows and makes the hard decisions. As he always had, as he always will if it comes to his brother.
"If I were to agree… Would he be left out of all of this?" A big satisfied smile started blooming on Korn's face.
"If that's what you wish for."
Porsche took one breath, a second, let himself mourn the life he could have lived, the one he could have had if he said no right now, the freedom he was giving up.
"Then I will do it."
Korn clasped his hands together delightedly.
"Fantastic. I will arrange the meeting to make this official for tomorrow." And with that he got up from his chair. Porsche wanted to remind him about the chess game but upon looking at the board all the words died in his throat. "I see you tomorrow Porsche. I hope we get to play again soon."
Looking at the checkmate Porsche felt like the game wasn't the only thing that he lost today.
The next day Kinn was standing at the doorway when Porsche got to the meeting room.
"How do they say it… till death do us apart?" He said, smirking. Smug little bastard and Porsche wants to spit on his face again but he settles on stomping his foot instead. Kinn makes a little surprised hurt noise and this time Porsche is the one smirking.
He takes his seat and the smirk fades.
There is a box in front of him. He registers Kinn sitting down at his seat in the corner of his vision.
"The rings are to make it official." Korn says smiling. Still the perfect picture of a harmless doting uncle.
Porsche stares at the small black box. This all feels more like a business deal than engagement.
Korn is sitting at the head of the table, Narong at his left, Kinn at his right. Porsche was at the other side of the table, isolated. He feels as if it's done on purpose, to make him feel even more pressured.
When he reaches for the ring he thinks it's the equivalent of tapping your pen in your blood. Putting it on was signing away his life with said pen. The ring felt heavy even if it was slim and elegant. Like a chain with a ball at the end. Dragging him down.
Kinn put his own on and Korn nodded pleased.
It was official and the deal had been signed with blood. His soul sold.
He was to be married to Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakun.