Chapter Text
The city lights smeared across the visor of Porsche’s helmet as he roared down empty roads on his motorbike, the man in the burgundy suit clinging on behind him like a ghost. They’d cut through alleys, past the wet slap of neon on puddles, past the smell of fried street food and the tang of petrol, until Porsche finally skidded them to a stop beside a glowing petrol station.
The man was trembling, clutching a small wound on his arm where one of the guys had grazed him with a knife. His designer suit was dirtied, shoes scuffed, but the watch on his wrist gleamed — a sharp, smug glint in the fluorescent light.
“You can get off,” Porsche said, voice flat.
The man stumbled off, looking around nervously before glancing back at Porsche. “I’ll pay you later.”
Porsche’s eyebrow twitched. “No. Now.”
“I don’t have it.”
Porsche hummed, leaning forward, and plucked the watch clean off the man’s wrist. The man sputtered, “Wait—”
Porsche slipped it into his pocket, kicking the bike to life. “Payment received. Don’t get yourself stabbed again.”
As Porsche peeled away, he looked back in his mirror, catching the man glaring after him, clutching his empty wrist. There was something familiar about that guy, Porsche thought, frowning as he cut through the streets, but he couldn’t quite place it. Someone he’d seen in passing, maybe at the bar, maybe with one of the rich kids who came in flaunting their daddy’s money.
---
When Porsche reached home, the adrenaline had just begun to fade, leaving his muscles tired, ready for a shower and bed.
The moment he opened the door, everything stopped.
“Chay?” Porsche’s voice cracked as he stepped inside.
Chay was curled up on the couch, bruises blooming on his cheek and lip, eyes swollen from crying. His guitar was on the floor, strings jangling softly from where it had been knocked over.
“Hia…” Chay whispered, voice small.
Porsche’s heart plummeted. “What the hell happened?!”
“They came,” Chay said, trembling. “More men, the ones Uncle owes money to. They wanted to take things, to scare me.”
Rage, red-hot and choking, flooded Porsche’s system as he fell to his knees in front of his brother. He gently touched Chay’s bruised cheek, guilt cutting into him like glass.
“I’m so sorry, Chay.”
“Don’t be,” Chay whispered, tears dripping. “It’s not your fault.”
“No,” Porsche growled. “But it’s about to be someone else’s.”
---
His hands shook as he called Kim. It rang only once before Kim answered, his calm voice steady.
“Porsche?”
“They hurt Chay again,” Porsche choked out, “Kim, they—”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
---
Kim arrived silently, carrying a small first aid kit in one hand, a cold, dangerous calm in his dark eyes.
He knelt beside Chay with a softness Porsche had only ever seen when Kim was teaching Chay guitar, his gloved hands gentle as he cleaned the wounds, the smell of antiseptic sharp in the room.
Porsche paced like a caged animal, fists clenching and unclenching, watching Kim work with efficient tenderness that made Porsche’s chest tighten.
When Kim finished, Chay clutched Kim’s wrist. “P’Kim, you don’t have to—”
“I know,” Kim said softly. “But I want to.”
---
Chay fell asleep on the couch bed, holding Porsche’s hand in one and Kim’s in the other until his breathing evened out, the lines of pain easing from his face.
Porsche and Kim stepped outside, closing the door gently behind them.
Kim leaned against the wall, his face a storm of quiet fury.
“I’m going to handle them,” Kim said, his voice low, controlled, deadly.
“I’m coming with you,” Porsche snapped back immediately.
Kim’s jaw clenched. “Porsche, this is—”
“No.” Porsche stepped closer, chest to chest, eyes hard. “They hurt my brother. You’re not going without me.”
Kim’s eyes flickered, something like pride mixing with the worry. “You’re asking for a war.”
Porsche’s mouth twisted into a humorless smile. “Good. Let them know it’s coming.”
They stood there for a moment, breathing in sync, the quiet hum of the city around them.
Kim looked away first, exhaling. “Okay. But we do it my way. Clean. Precise.”
Porsche nodded. “Fine. As long as it’s done.”
Kim studied him, and something softer came into his eyes. “You’ve changed, Porsche.”
Porsche huffed out a humorless laugh. “You too.”
Kim’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile before it slipped away. “I’ll handle your uncle after this. You don’t need him dragging you and Chay down anymore.”
Porsche’s throat tightened, but he nodded, letting Kim see the raw gratitude in his eyes.
---
They stepped back inside, Porsche brushing Chay’s hair from his forehead as he slept, Kim standing close, his shadow stretching across both of them.
“Rest now, Chay,” Porsche whispered. “We’ll take care of it.”
Kim’s hand briefly squeezed Porsche’s shoulder, a silent promise shared between them.
The night was dark and quiet, but Porsche knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long.