xXxXxXxXxXx
I'm in love with your brother
Yes, I am
But maybe I shouldn't ask for his name
And you danced (Oh, what a dance)
And you laughed (Oh, what a laugh)
Does he know what I do? And-
You'll pass this on, won't you? And-
If I asked him once what would he say?
Is he willing?
Can he play?
“Pass This On” The Knife
xXxXxXxXxXx
“While Porsche gets a handle on his emotions, I thought I might try to call you and get your side of the story,” Kinn explained.
Kim thought he heard a glass break in the background of the call.
“My side of the story,” Kim repeated slowly.
“You should have tried to talk him out of it, I know he doesn’t know any better,” Kinn went on, “But you do.”
“Talk who out of what?” Kim tried to clarify.
He always bristled when Kinn did that thing where he assumed Kim knew what the f*ck he was talking about.
“Porchay’s tattoo,” Kinn said.
“...Porchay?” Kim asked, “I haven’t spoken to him in…” he faltered, trying to do the math quickly in his head.
“Hang on, I’m going to put you on speaker,” Kinn sighed.
The audio on the other end of the call shifted.
“Porchay blocked my number months ago,” Kim said, “What tattoo? What are you talking about?”
“I told you he might have nothing to do with it,” Kinn soothed - to Porsche, Kim assumed.
“How do I know that isn’t just a convenient lie?” Porsche commented, “How is that even possible?”
“Have you seen them together at all?” Kinn asked, “Don’t you think Porchay might’ve mentioned something important enough to permanently brand on his skin?”
“...This thing with the motorcycles is all my fault,” Porsche went on, “I’m a bad influence. I knew I shouldn’t have been doing all that around him.”
“We’re dealing with it,” Kinn assured.
Kim had always been a calculating man. He’d drawn a few conclusions rather quickly. Porchay was not in trouble - though perhaps he was causing trouble. Porsche was upset about a tattoo. Kinn was just on damage control.
There was a voice at the back of his head telling him to feign disinterest in front of Kinn and Porsche. But there was an outstanding unknown that was bothering him…
Kim cleared his throat to get their attention, “What led you to believe I would know about the tattoo?”
“Because he got your name tattooed,” Kinn offered simply.
“Your government name,” Porsche clarified, in the background of the call, “Not that WIK crap.”
“He didn’t mean to call your music ‘crap,’” Kinn assured, the warning to Porsche evident in his voice, “Porsche is just worried about his brother. Tankhun saw it on his social media. I think we all would have preferred to find out about this in a different way.”
Kim thought he probably could not give less of a sh*t about what Porsche thought about his music.
His mind was frozen, gears unable to turn beyond the first half of Porsche’s sentence.
The most burning question was, Why? - followed by When? and How? and Did I hear you correctly?
“Did you say motorcycles?” Kim asked, when he realized he’d been speechless for a clean thirty seconds.
“See? I really think he has no idea,” Kinn observed, then to Kim, “Yes, Porchay ended up on my desk this morning. Apparently no one has been able to outrace him for several weeks in a row now and it’s skewing the betting pools on the other side of the city. My guys are not happy.”
“You mean street racing,” Kim said slowly.
Were they talking about the same Porchay?
“We just have to talk little Porchay onto the right side of the betting pool,” Kinn suggested.
“I… really don’t care how you deal with that,” Kim lied, “Can I go?”
“Yes, that is all,” Kinn said, “But, Kim?”
“Yes?”
“If you are in a position in the future to stop Porchay from doing something else he might regret…”
“I’ll try to talk him out of it,” Kim assured.
Kim would be first in line.
xXxXxXxXxXx
The thought of Chay with tattoos running up the lengths of his arms, maneuvering a motorcycle at suicide-speeds through the streets of Bangkok at Ass-O’Clock was utterly intoxicating. Kim couldn’t get the image of Chay’s hands, covered in black smears from fixing motorcycles all day, out of his mind. It just would not gel with the image of him that Kim had frozen in amber when he’d walked away.
Kim had promised himself he would not investigate the Kittisawat brothers any further - no sleuthing whatsoever unless the situation absolutely warranted it. Chay would never forgive Kim if he found out.
Not that he had forgiven Kim for it the first time…
He tried to ask himself if this situation, now, warranted it. Porchay had pissed off Kinn’s men. It sounded as though Kinn intended to protect the younger Kittisawat boy - probably at Porsche’s demand.
He’d already relinquished some of his self control by letting himself think about Chay at all.
He tracked down Chay’s social media account easily, using a burner account. Kim’s heart leapt into his throat as soon as he’d tapped on the username.
The most recent photo post was of the tattoo - now fully healed. It spanned across the entirety of Chay’s low back, just above the low-slung waist of his pants. Kim’s full name was stylized in a beautiful script, all black. Some of the linework was unbelievably thin - clearly the work of a delicate and practiced hand.
Kim had always been more of a car guy, but today seemed like as good a day as any, to get back into motorbikes.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Kim slowed the bike to a coast and hopped off. He rolled it the rest of the way up to the entrance of the garage.
A mechanic came out to greet him as he toed the kickstand into place.
“Hi, do you have an appointment?”
“Yeah, I called earlier about an alignment issue,” Kim explained.
“I’ll bring this inside. Office is over there if you want to get started on the paperwork,” the mechanic pointed towards the corner of the building.
Kim scanned the room once he was through the door. There was another door that separated the office from the main shop space.
There was no one at the counter, but there was a bell with a sign that read, Ring for Assistance.
Kim slipped through the door, into the shop.
He scanned the rows of workbenches from one end of the room to the other, looking for any personal or identifying features.
Chay wasn’t working today according to the information Kim had asked for, but if it was true that he worked here, it was likely he could be traced back to the racing crew, MWD. Many. Winged. Dogs.
“No one was up front, huh?” the mechanic from before said, appearing in the doorway.
“I rang the bell but no one came,” Kim lied.
“Sorry about that. Everyone might be in the back. This is kind of our lunch hour.”
“No worries,” Kim said, “I was actually just looking for the bathroom.”
“Ah, it’s this way.”
As Kim followed the mechanic further into the shop, he spotted Chay’s bench.
He wasn’t sure how he knew at first. There were band posters tacked up on the wall above it - reflecting someone passionate about music. But the giveaway was a small photo of Porsche hanging from a paperclip that was thumbtacked to the wall.
xXxXxXxXxXx
The shop called a few days later. Kim recognized Chay’s voice immediately.
“Good afternoon, I’m calling to follow up about service on a motorcycle for… KT? I’m sorry, there wasn’t a full name given on the intake paperwork.”
Kim’s eyes fell closed at the sound of Chay’s voice. “Speaking,” he said, “KT is what they call me.”
“You had mentioned some alignment issues, right?” Chay asked.
“That’s right.”
His heart rate picked up. Did Chay not recognize his initials, his voice? There was something of a thrill to this.
“Can you tell me a bit about what you were experiencing?” Chay requested, “I took it for a ride around the block so I could troubleshoot and the steering seemed pretty sound.”
“Maybe try it on the highway? It’s drifting at high speeds,” Kim lied.
“Okay, that helps,” said Chay, “I did take the wheels off to get a closer look. There was a bit of grit in the assembly, maybe sand? But nothing that could affect the steering quite like that. The bearings look okay too. But I gave everything a good cleaning and conditioning for you. I’ll try getting it up to a higher speed and see if I can get the same result.”
“Sounds good,” Kim agreed, “Please be careful.”
“I will be,” Chay said, sounding a little confused by the request, “Thanks. We should have it ready for pickup in another day or so.”
“Great, thanks,” Kim said.
“Alright then. Have a good one,” Chay said. And then he hung up.
Kim’s bike was fine. There was nothing wrong with the alignment. Chay was looking for a needle in a haystack.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Porchay had been so polite on the phone. It didn’t seem like he’d known it was Kim at all.
To his list of questions Kim added also, the question of placement of the tattoo. Chay had picked an expanse of skin that he wouldn’t ever be able to see himself. It would only be visible to someone else, if they were checking him out while he reached for something high up on a shelf and his t-shirt rode up, or they had him naked, bent over…
Kim didn’t think about Chay in such scenarios.
He didn’t think about Chay straddling his motorcycle, speeding on it, even, attuning himself to the engine enough to feel for alignment issues.
He didn’t think about Chay at all, actually.
It wasn’t cowardice, but self-preservation that guided his decision to have a member of the house staff pick up his bike when the service was completed.
xXxXxXxXxXx
Friday night rolled around. Kim spent some time on the treadmill, showered off, made himself an espresso, and changed into black leather. He would need to be hyper-focused, blade-sharp, for what he was about to do.
It had been easy to get a racing slot against the undefeatable darling of the MWD crew. Many of the usual racers in the scene had fallen back. No one wanted to risk their reputation.
This was to Kim’s advantage. Everyone just wanted to see Chay defeat another racer - no one cared who it was. His bets were up, odds stacked.
Kim kept his hood up as he arrived at the scene and dropped his bike off so the organizers could run their check for rigging. He wore a black cloth mask over his mouth and nose, which he only lowered for the security detail, and when he was checking in at the betting table.
Tonight’s wager was simple: If Kim won, he’d get an audience with the angel of MWD himself.
If he lost, they’d take his bike.
ooo
He would be the second racer to go against MWD tonight. The odds of beating Chay were the lowest for the second race.
The first race would be the warm up round. The speed-demon would still be clawing its way out of hibernation.
The second race, he’d be in the zone, in for the kill.
There was also to be a third race against Chay. He’d stand to win a grand prize if he won the last race. And it was highly suspected that he would.
Kim watched the first race. He tried to blend in by standing next to a group of girls who all started cheering for Chay as he appeared, as if he was a bored boyfriend who had been dragged along. Chay waved to the crowd before straddling his bike and revving the engine to life. As he leaned forward, Kim saw his t-shirt ride up ever so slightly, revealing the faintest sliver of black linework.
Kim’s mouth ran dry.
Chay carried himself with a confidence Kim did not remember. His smile was huge, shoulders relaxed. He seemed, strangely, genuinely, excited as he pulled on his racing jacket.
ooo
The crowd erupted in cheers as Chay crossed the finish line first. Chants of “MWD! MWD! MWD!” rippled across the crowd. Some of these girls Kim was chameleoning against definitely had a crush on Chay.
Who’s name was tattooed across his back though? Not theirs.
There would be a brief intermission as the organizers reset the racing course. The crowd scattered to go buy additional drinks and snacks from the vendors.
Kim put his helmet on before stepping up to the START area.
A mechanic rolled Kim’s bike out onto the asphalt. Kim mounted his bike and stared the course down.
It had been a bout of paranoia in his late teens. After getting his driving license he reasoned he should know how to command other vehicles as well.
He’d taken courses on the weekends to learn how to ride a motorcycle - this was supplemented by lessons from the house staff. They’d go on long night-rides that summer before he left home. He’d gone to boating school and even taken pre-courses for flight school with the intention of learning to pilot a helicopter - though the takeoff of his music career had grounded that last stint.
Land. Sea. Air.
He’d equipped himself to find his way out of any situation.
Now, he was putting the paranoia, the drive, to the test.
The mechanics rolled Porchay’s bike up next to Kim’s.
A few moments later, Chay appeared.
Kim watched Chay study the bike beneath him. And then his eyes traveled up to study Kim himself.
“...KT?” Chay asked, “Is that you?”
Kim nodded. It was a good thing it was dark. The anonymity was a thrill of its own. His heart started to race. He liked the way Chay looked at him when he thought Kim was a stranger. It was about a thousand percent less disappointed.
“How’s that alignment treating you?” Chay laughed, unphased by the realization he’d been toyed with.
Kim shrugged.
“Well, if you’re confident enough to race it, I’ll say I fixed your problem,” Chay mused, “What a weird compliment?”
How was he so positive about everything all the time? It made Kim ache.
The ref signaled to the two of them to start their engines.
Chay revved his engine for the drama. The crowd erupted into wolf-whistles behind them.
“Don’t get me wrong, you’ve got a nice engine… but you’ll never beat me with a build like that,” Chay commented.
“But I’m excited to see you try,” he challenged, before pulling his helmet on.
Kim would still find a way to get what he wanted if he lost. What crew wouldn’t be intrigued by betting a request for an audience.
But he quickly decided that was a losing mentality.
And if Chay wanted a fight. Kim would give him one.
Porchay’s bike shot across the START line. His bike grew small in Kim’s field of vision as he sped off into the beyond.
His bike had God-like pickup.
But Kim had fire power.
He floored it.
He was gaining on Chay.
He leaned into the first turn, as low to the pavement as he f*cking dared, while they shot around the bend, out of the sightlines of the crowd.
Kim’s heart nearly soared out of his chest the first time his front wheel just ever-so-slightly inched past the front end of Chay’s bike.
They were on a knife’s edge. Neck and neck. Kim’s fingers were in a bone crushing lock around the handlebars.
He’d just wanted to make it a believable race - like he was actually trying to win - but in the end it was so close, Kim wasn’t sure who tipped over the finish line first.
All he knew was that he’d been going so fast it took a substantial distance to brake and bring the bike to a complete stop. And then on shaky legs he was engaging the kick stand, dismounting.
Chay practically threw his helmet off after he’d done the same.
In an adrenaline haze, Kim put one foot in front of the other, towards the referee. He was barely processing the words Chay was yelling at him. The crowd around them was a mix of screams and boos, thrumming with anticipation.
“Just who are you anyways? Why do you want to talk to me so bad? Are you listening? WHO ARE YOU? TAKE YOUR HELMET OFF.”
Kim abruptly stopped walking - Chay almost walked right into him. And then, Kim obliged. He pulled his helmet off, ran a hand through his hair to school it away from his face.
He couldn’t look at Chay. But he felt it - the moment Chay saw his face.
The yelling stopped. Chay fell silent.
The wind hit the damp of Kim’s forehead. The chill was nice.
“Come on, don’t you want to know who won?” Kim asked, breathing still labored from the race. He heard the shakiness in his own voice.
“...Kim?” Chay asked, voice several octaves higher, “What are you doing here? Since when do you even know how to ride a motorcycle?”
Kim continued towards the ref with Chay a few steps behind. He could see that the guy was getting a second opinion. They were re-watching the video they’d taken of the race finish.
As he approached the ref, the ref reached for Kim’s hand and lifted it in the air, signifying he’d won.
The crowd booed, and immediately started yelling for a rematch.
Kim would gladly go for a second round if it meant Chay would say his name again. He’d forgotten how much he liked the way it sounded in Chay’s mouth.
This wasn’t about winning. He just needed-
“Come with me,” Kim demanded, eyes locked onto Chay, hand still held in the air, “Those were the terms. I won. And I need to talk to you.”
There was a fire in Chay’s eyes. He looked like he wanted to strangle Kim with his bare hands. Another rush of a thrill blazed in Kim’s heart at this.
“I have another race,” Chay dismissed, “You can have your audience later, you f*cking psycho.”
The words were punctuated. Chay had been upset with Kim before, sure, but never like this.
“You’ve got a few minutes while they reset the course,” Kim countered, tugging his wrist free from the ref’s hand.
He started walking, away from the crowd, towards the perimeter fence. He’d staged a getaway car on the other side in case this all went south. He’d send someone to retrieve his bike. He suspected he wouldn’t be getting it back without a fight.
To his surprise, Chay did not agree verbally, but he did follow.
And follow.
And follow.
The thing was - Kim hadn’t meant to win. He really thought Chay had him in those final fractions of a second.
He wanted to lose to Chay fair and square.
Kim noticed his hands were tightly clenched around his helmet. They ached as he uncurled them.
He finally turned to face Chay. The boy’s eyes pierced right into Kim’s soul.
“Haven’t I lost enough to you?” Chay asked, indignance clear in his voice, “Did you really have to f*ck with this, too?”
Kim supposed he deserved it - but it still stung.
“Do you know why they call us the many winged dogs, Phi?” Chay went on, “You, of all people, should be able to understand. It’s because we’re never just playing one game. I have a set of wings for each ulterior motive… I needed to win that race. Maybe you know that already? ...Keeping tabs on me again?”
“I don’t have any ulterior motives,” Kim assured.
“I think any motive of yours is ulterior,” Chay suggested.
“I came here for an explanation,” Kim said, “Why did you tattoo my name on your back? We haven’t spoken in months, Chay,”
Chay sighed. He didn’t look surprised. Kim thought he preferred the previous look of anger to the look of utter resignation that replaced it.
“They say if you get a significant other’s name tattooed, you curse your relationship,” Chay explained, voice softened, “I’ve poisoned the well. It’ll never work out now.”
It hadn’t exactly “worked out” before, Kim thought.
“I don’t ever want it to work out,” Chay continued, as if reading Kim’s mind, “I want the opposite, P’Kim. For my own peace, I’ve doomed this. It’s not up to me anymore.”
“I asked the artist to make it too big and detailed to ever get it covered up. You can’t ask me to do that,” he continued, “You’ll have to cut it off of me, or burn it off with acid.”
“I’m not asking you to-”
Chay interrupted. “I literally don’t care what you’re asking, but I need you to get to a point where you don’t care what I do. No sneaking around my workshop. No showing up to my races. I let you have music. Let me have this one thing.”
Chay turned and looked back towards the crowd.
“Is that enough of an explanation for you?” Chay asked.
“Do you have any idea how hard I fought to get myself out of the underworld?” Kim asked, “How painful it is to watch you run headlong into it? Kinn’s men are after you. These guys that you’re messing with are f*cking scary. It’s not safe.”
“They won’t be after me now,” Chay pointed out, “You f*cked up my perfect winning streak. For what? Because you can’t just come talk to me? My guys thought it was weird when someone other than the owner came to retrieve the bike when we were done with it.”
Kim opened his mouth to argue, that they’d be after Chay for different reasons now, that people got unpredictable real f*cking fast when you messed with their money, but Chay continued,
“I am not a child,” he seethed, anger returning, “Do not f*cking patronize me.”
Kim wasn’t sure which one of them was more in danger now - Kim for skewing a bet that had seemed so obvious, or Chay for f*cking up a win that was practically in the bag.
“Do you have any idea how worried Porsche is?” Kim asked.
He knew it was a low blow. He saw Chay flinch.
Of course, Chay had an even lower blow on standby, “I’m going to need you to explain to me why that is any of your business.”
“Do you know how worried I am?” Kim amended, “You shouldn’t be around these people, Chay. They’re not your friends.”
“You’re one to f*cking talk,” Chay pointed out.
Kim could see the resolve. He saw Chay turn to return to the crowds and music. The door was closing, or maybe it was a window - something Kim had never been meant to walk in through, but only look.
“I can fix this,” Kim said, “But I need you to come with me.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Chay assured.
“Oh, I think you are,” Kim countered.
The other thing was - Kim had wanted to extract Chay from the situation, yes, but he hadn’t meant to do it quite like this.
He supposed it was technically kidnapping.
But Chay had turned his back on Kim.
Kim had simply seized the moment and cuffed him, and then pulled as hard as he could, towards the road.
There was a guard posted at the opening in the fence. Kim took him down easily with his free hand.
f*cking amateurs.
Sure, Chay was screaming bloody murder, about how he hated Kim, how Kim was a psychopath, and Where Do You Think You Are Taking Me?
No one heard it over the music.
Chay got a few kicks in when Kim shoved him in the back seat.
But Kim eventually got the door closed, trapping Chay in the back seat with the child-safety lock engaged on both doors, like a beautiful moth fluttering in a jar.
A very angry moth.
Kim hadn’t meant to f*ck up the race. And he’d meant to speak more gently to Chay, even if Chay had met him with anger. Certainly, he hadn’t intended to take him away like this.
But, if that was true, why did he even have handcuffs at the ready in the first place?
He’d just needed to put Chay in a time out - to get him to stop for a second so Kim could figure out how to fix this.
Kim had always been more of a car guy. Like a bat out of hell he shot down the alley. It was a short distance to the nearest highway on-ramp. That was why spectators liked to park over here. It was easy to split if the authorities showed up.
Chay kept kicking at the inside of the car as Kim merged into the fast lane. He thought Chay might break a f*cking window at one point.
He was taking a pretty big gamble in assuming Chay cared about his own safety, and maybe Kim’s, too, enough that he wouldn’t try to crawl into the front seat and jerk the wheel out of his hands, to crash the car.
Kim hadn’t pinned Chay as biker gang leader material though. Perhaps it was a massive oversight to assume Chay wouldn’t slither over the seat and bite Kim’s shoulder as hard as he could to try to get him to stop.
Kim’s phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. He was too busy speeding down the highway to get it out, weaving in and out, around, and between other cars going half his speed.
“You don’t even like me, why the f*ck do you care what I do?” Chay complained.
Kim slowed the car enough to fish his phone out. He answered the call and immediately put it on speaker so he could toss it into the cup holder and resume speeding once more.
“For someone who claims to be uninterested in the family business you sure are making big f*cking business decisions this evening. Where is Porchay? Why are you trying to throw this race, Khimhant?” Kinn asked.
Kinn, Kim noted, was mad.
“I’m here!” Chay yelled, “I have no idea where he’s taking me! Please, Kinn, you have to help me.”
“He’s safe as long as he’s with Kim,” Kinn said off to the side, likely to Porsche who was probably listening on the other end of the line.
“I’m in handcuffs,” Chay argued, “I’m being held hostage!”
“I just got a call,” Kinn went on,”They want to know why the Theerapanyakuls have taken the leader of the MWD crew.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kim lied.
“Bring him to me. I’ll clean up your mess,” Kinn said.
It had been formed as a request, but Kim heard the undercurrent of demand.
“I’m on my way,” Kim said. He wasn’t sure if he meant it or not.
He slowed down again enough to reach for his phone and end the call, with Chay still yelling in the background.
Kim took the first exit off the highway. The car rounded the clover-leaf of the off-ramp, and Kim brought the car to a full stop on the shoulder of the road. The car was in the shadow of the overpass.
For a moment Kim said nothing. He was looking straight ahead, hands on the wheel. He brought one of his hands to the gear shift to put the car in Park so he could take his foot off the brake.
“What am I supposed to do, Chay?” Kim asked.
“You’re asking me now?” Chay clarified. He brought a knee to the back of Kim’s seat to jostle him for emphasis.
“You’re a sh*tty friend,” Chay said, “And a liar, and a manipulator. And your bike sucks.”
I understand why you see me that way, Kim thought, I haven’t shown you the rest of me.
“I can’t give my brother the satisfaction of fixing this for me,” Kim said.
Chay huffed. He was panting from trying to tug at the handcuffs, as if he could break free of them.
Kim tried to remember what it was he’d meant to say to Chay when he’d requested to bet on him.
“You’re the leader of MWD,” Kim said.
“Didn’t realize that, did you?” Chay asked smugly, “You know, Phi, I used to think you were some kind of evil genius. I don’t any more.”
“Oh yeah?” Kim asked, letting his other hand fall away from the steering wheel, “What do you think about me then?”
“For one, you’re a terrible f*cking listener,” Chay quipped, “So in case you missed what I said before: You’re a sh*tty friend, and a liar, and you ruined my life. And your motorcycle is f*cking ugly. Those bikes from the early 2000s are so stupid looking. I never understood the nostalgia.”
“I… love you,” Kim said, “I’ve always loved you.”
Kim let his eyes fall closed.
“What?” Chay asked, “I’m sorry. Could you say that again?”
“I love you,” Kim obeyed, reverently, leaning his head back against the headrest. The adrenaline was starting to dissipate.
He wondered if it was possible to f*ck this up worse than he had tonight.
Chay was the leader of MWD? How was that possible? He was so young. Perhaps they’d assigned him as a figurehead - for optics only…
Kim made himself stop calculating.
“Do you mean that, P’Kim?” Chay asked.
“Why would I lie about that, Chay?”
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“If we’re really doomed now because of that tattoo I’m going to find that tattoo artist and I’m going to kill them for not talking you out of it,” Kim said, “You are the only good thing that ever happened to me besides my music. And it was my music that brought you to me.”
This seemed to shut Chay up.
There was nothing but the clicking of Kim’s hazard-lights blinking on and off.
Kim’s phone started to buzz again. He forgot they had a tag on this car - hypothetically for rescue purposes. Kinn would be using it for other purposes soon, if he wasn’t already.
“What am I supposed to do, Chay?” Kim asked again, this time about a completely different set of variables.
“I think you should come back here right now,” Chay suggested, “And kiss me.”
Kim’s mind came screeching to a halt.
“Could you repeat that?” Kim asked.
“No,” Chay denied, “Please, come back here and uncuff me. Let me touch you.”
Kim’s hand landed on the door handle without another thought. The engine was still purring, louder once he was outside the car.
Cars whirred on the overpass above him - clack!ing over the bridge’s expansion joints as they sped past.
Kim opened the door to the backseat.
Chay was glaring at him, making Kim wonder doubly if he’d heard Chay correctly, or if he’d simply heard what he wanted to hear.
He’d been sprawled across the back seat, he sat up and swung his legs onto the floor to make room for Kim to sit down beside him.
Kim kept a foot on the door so it wouldn’t close and lock him in.
Kim stuck a hand in his pocket to feel around for the keys to the cuffs, “How do I know you won’t run?” he asked.
“Don’t uncuff me then,” Chay dismissed, and then he was leaning in, cuffed hands twisting into the front of Kim’s shirt to bring him closer.
Kim let himself be reeled in. He was paralyzed as Chay stopped a few inches from his face. His eyes searched Kim’s.
“You didn’t even ask to see the tattoo,” Chay observed softly, “Why don’t you want to see it?”
“I was kind of busy,” Kim offered weakly.
A smile spread across Chay’s lips, “Yeah, you were. Busy, as hell, ruining my friday night,” he agreed.
“Can I take you somewhere where I can look at it?” Kim asked, “In the light? Will you let me?”
“I suppose I can’t convince you to take me back to the loop track,” Chay sighed.
“No, you can’t,” Kim agreed.
“The only mistake I’m allowed to suffer for is trusting you?” Chay asked gently, “You’re going to absolve me of all my other wrongdoings for the rest of our lives, huh?”
“Chay,” Kim begged. He wasn’t even sure what he was begging for the most. He needed Chay to stop talking. He needed Chay to kiss him.
“I guess I better shut up and kiss you while I still have the chance,” Chay mused, “My friends are going to come looking for me soon, if they haven’t already. You’re dead meat when they find you, you know?”
And then he was leaning in the rest of the way, pressing their lips together. Kim pulled his hand out of his pocket to reach over and steady Chay against him.
There wasn’t an iota left of adrenaline in Kim’s body. His nerves were shot - from the race, their argument, his brother’s political demands - and yet, he felt himself start to burn once more as Chay’s lips moved against his.
He brought his other hand to Chay’s elbow, to urge him closer.
Chay came closer immediately without breaking off the kiss. His cuffed hands were trapped between them as Chay climbed onto Kim’s lap. Kim brought a hand to cover one of Chay’s. Their fingers laced together.
Kim had to tilt his face up to meet Chay’s lips, slightly above him. Chay’s lips parted against his-
-And Kim thought he might be okay if a group of thugs wanted to slit his throat in front of Chay after a kiss like this. He wouldn’t haunt anybody. He’d die peacefully, with no unfinished business. It all would have been worth it.
He knew he wasn’t thinking clearly, but could anyone blame him for such weakness in the presence of an angel?
“Please don’t kill my artist,” Chay requested softly, breaking off enough to speak, “You haven’t seen how beautiful he made your name look.”
Kim brought a hand to settle against Chay’s low back.
The image from his social media was burned into Kim’s mind. And now that he’d thought about it fully, he was jealous of the artist - touching Chay enough to work a piece that big. He might have to ruffle his feathers for that.
Kim brought a hand up to stroke Chay’s cheek. “You asked me why I couldn’t just come talk to you,” he said, “But what about you? You couldn’t talk to me before doing this to yourself?”
“I didn’t do it for you.”
“What if you end up loving someone else?” Kim asked, “And they see it? And they ask?”
“It’s rude to ask what tattoos mean, Phi. I don’t have to answer. And anyone I’m with will have to accept that I carry you with me always,” Chay said, “What’s the difference if it’s mental or physical?”
“Chay,” Kim begged. That hadn’t been a happy admission.
He surged up to kiss Chay again, this time he wrapped both arms around Chay’s waist. Chay kissed him back frantically. He tried to bring his hands to settle on Kim’s shoulders, as much as the cuffs would allow.
Kim really, really wanted to uncuff Chay, but even more so, he wanted to get Chay somewhere with more light, more room to spread him out… What was he accomplishing by dragging it out here?
But he couldn’t stop. Not now. Not when Chay’s mouth was so-
Kim thought he heard a car door slam outside. Chay had heard it too. He glanced out the back window of the car, behind Kim.
“Those aren’t my guys,” Chay whispered as he scrambled off of Kim.
Kim’s gun was in the front seat, out of reach. He heard the gravel on the side of the road crunching under someone’s feet as they approached the vehicle.
Kim had a gun in his face for about two seconds before it was lowered.
“Ah, Master Kim,” the gunmen said, “Are you alright? We’re here to collect you and your hostage.”
oOoOo
Kinn must’ve known that Kim had been on the fence about bringing Chay to the compound. He had sent a full caravan of guards to escort them back. There was a van, multiple cars, and motorcycles, too.
The staff had definitely been confused when Kim requested to sit in the back of the van with Chay after they’d loaded him in. Maybe they were just cranky that it meant one of them would have to drive Kim’s car back to the compound for him.
“He’s Porsche’s brother,” Kim explained, stepping up into the vehicle. There were benches on either side, Kim sat on the floor in between.
He glanced around at the inside. The shell had been reinforced with bulletproof paneling.
Kim couldn’t stop looking at him under the bright, cold lighting in the back of the van.
“Are you going to uncuff me?” Chay requested, “I heard them say that you’re locked in here with me until we get to the compound. It’s not like I’m going anywhere.
“Sure,” Kim allowed, “Come here.”
Chay dropped to his knees on the floor of the van, then shuffled across the space between them on his knees. He knelt in front of Kim, sitting back on his heels, and held his hands out.
Kim pulled the keys from his pocket. He looked at Chay for another moment before sticking the key in the lock.
As soon as the cuffs had sprung free, Chay was massaging his wrists. “Thank you,” he praised.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” Chay offered, “But I’m not sure you know what love is.”
Chay’s smile was somewhat fond as he said it. Before Kim could make any sense of the contrast between Chay’s words and his expression, Chay was reaching for him, slinging his arms around Kim’s shoulders, pulling him close.
Kim felt himself relax as Chay leaned into him, warm and solid. He brought his hands to rest on Chay’s tattoo once more, through the smooth leather of his riding jacket.
“But I can show you,” Chay said, voice close to Kim’s ear - it made Kim’s heart flutter, “If you want to learn. I think you’re capable of love, P’Kim.”
Chay twisted his face enough to press his lips to Kim’s cheek.
“Show me,” Kim requested.
And then Chay’s lips were on his again. This time he was free to tangle his hands in Kim’s hair. He pulled Kim down with him as he lowered himself back onto the floor of the van.
xXxXxXxXxXx
They were still lying on the floor when the van finally came to a stop in front of the compound. Their kissing had slowed to almost nothing. Kim just couldn’t seem to let go of Chay. He had an arm slung around his middle. His face was buried in Chay’s shoulder.
He did not let Chay out of reaching distance as they were escorted inside, up to Kinn’s office.
Kinn and Porsche were waiting for them.
“Why don’t we start with Porchay’s side of the story this time?” Kinn suggested when the two of them had been seated, on the sofa by Kinn’s small business library, then added, “Ah, no disrespect, I believe you are also the head of MWD now. Can I offer you a drink?”
“Quit with the formalities,” Porsche demanded, “He’s still my little brother.”
“And Kim is still mine. I told you that if you cannot handle this without your emotions getting in the way - let me,” Kinn reminded Porsche, “Your younger brother is a guest, and he will be treated as such.”
“Thank you,” Porchay nodded.
“Sending half the compound after them wasn’t letting your emotions get in the way?” Porsche asked.
“What was that?” Kinn asked.
“Nothing,” said Porsche, turning to make himself useful by pouring drinks for all of them.
“Porchay, you must forgive my brother,” Kinn said, “He was raised better than this. Though he may have forgotten some of his manners since he left this place.”
“You said he was in trouble,” Kim defended, “What did you expect me to do?”
“Coordinate with me,” Kinn answered easily, “I don’t like surprises, Kim. That’s all. The rest was fine.”
“It’s late, and I can see that everyone is on edge, so I’ll keep this brief instead,” Kinn went on, watching Porsche hand a drink to Porchay, and then another to Kim, before handing one to Kinn, “I made some calls. The organizers think a rematch tomorrow night should settle it. I will host you here for the night to protect you from anyone who might be looking for revenge over petty losses.”
Kim clocked the way Porsche was looking at his brother - wordlessly trying to ascertain if he was alright.
“Any convenient lies I should know about this time?” Porsche asked, when he noticed Kim was looking at him.
Kim just glared daggers at him.
Porsche lifted his hands up in defense, “Hey, I had to ask.”
“I told you my brother had nothing to do with that tattoo,” Kinn repeated.
Kim sensed it was an old argument. One he wanted no part in. He let it go.
He had more important matters to attend to anyway.
xXxXxXxXxXx
The quarters Porchay had stayed in when he’d previously resided at the compound were open. Kim followed behind the escort guard and Chay - to the wing on that side of the building.
After the escort left, Kim stood in the hallway, hesitating before the threshold to Chay’s room like a vampire waiting to be invited in.
“Can I come in?” Kim requested, “I’d like to talk about tomorrow.”
To this question, Chay grabbed Kim by the lapels of his jacket and dragged him into the room. As soon as the door was closed Chay was pushing Kim against it and kissing him - hard. Kim let out a surprised gasp against Chay’s mouth as his brain caught up with the direction Chay had steered them in.
Kim had meant actual talking when he’d asked, not this - Not that he wasn’t relieved Chay still seemed interested in exploring their physical connection now that the dust had settled. He placed two hands on Chay’s chest to gently move him back. In the inch or so that formed between them, he asked, “Are you going to show me this tattoo or what? You’re not chicken, are you?”
(Unbeknownst to Kim, daring Porchay was, in fact, the easiest way to get the leader of MWD to do anything. It was common knowledge among the rest of his crew.)
Chay started walking backwards, not taking his eyes off of Kim as he unzipped his moto jacket. He let it fall on the floor behind him. And then he was pulling off his t-shirt, too.
Kim was already floating forward, towards Chay, unable to take his eyes off of more of Chay’s skin than he could ever remember seeing.
He dropped to his knees as Chay turned around, so the ink was at eye-level. The script was huge and vivid. He held his breath as he brought a hand to it. Chay’s skin was smooth under his fingertips. If Kim closed his eyes he wouldn’t be able to feel the lines at all, but they were there, below, smoothly branded into Chay’s skin with a practiced hand.
Kim Khimhan Theerapanyakul
“Chay…” Kim said.
It was one thing to see a photo of it, and another to touch.
Chay had said it was a curse, but these lines felt like devotion. They were too delicately designed, too expertly pulled.
“I was thinking, for the rematch tomorrow, what if you and I make a bet, Phi?” Chay suggested, hugging himself against the chill of the room.
“If I win, you have to join MWD,” Chay said.
He was deflecting, drawing attention away from the weight of what he’d done. Kim let him.
“...What do you want if you win?” Chay asked.
Kim stood up. He couldn’t stop looking at the tattoo. He brought his fingertips to it once more, as if it would help him rationalize it. He felt Chay shiver under his hand. Kim unzipped his own jacket to step forward and wrap the front of it around Chay so they could share the warmth. Chay turned in Kim’s arms to curl himself around Kim.
He could feel the warmth of Chay’s skin through the thin fabric of his t-shirt.
Kim thought carefully about what he wanted to ask for as he held Chay.
“What’s something you’d only give me if I won it fair and square?” Kim mused.
“The time of day,” Chay quipped, “But you did win, and I did give it to you.”
“Can I think about it then?” Kim requested.
Chay hummed, “Okay. But I reserve the right to change my wager once I hear yours.”
Surreal. All of this was completely surreal. Chay in his arms, the leader of the Many-Winged Dogs, with Kim’s name tattooed across his back, under the protection of Kinn and his men for the night, talking about betting on politically destructive realignments that could upend the city’s entire criminal ecosystem - like it was nothing.
It had been years since biker gangs had any sort of pull in the underworld. Kim couldn't join the MWD. Kinn would never let him - unless there was something in it for Kinn. Chay probably knew this. It was probably why he was asking for it in this way.
Kim was offering up his soul by entering the race.
If he might die, there was no harm in asking…
“Can I stay with you tonight?” Kim asked.
“You mean tomorrow night?” Chay asked, “After the race? Is that your wager?”
“No, I’m asking about now,” Kim clarified, slowly tracing his fingers up Chay’s spine, “Show me how to love you, Chay.”
“I’m not sure you deserve it,” Chay assessed.
“You seemed pretty mad at me earlier,” Kim agreed.
Chay let out a breath of a laugh.
“I panicked,” Kim offered, as if in explanation. It sounded thin, even to himself.
“There was no reasoning with you,” Chay said.
“I just wanted to protect you.”
“If you ever decide you think you know what’s best for me again, I want you to think twice, P’Kim.”
oOoOoOo
Kim had left his more sensible boots in his car. It felt good to take off his heavy riding boots, his thick riding jacket.
The wing of the compound intended for long term “guests” had always felt strangely haunted to Kim. He’d avoided it growing up.
All the bad energy that crossed the threshold of this place needed somewhere to go. It was as if it pooled in the rooms as soon as they were vacated - free to reign in the absence of breath.
Kim had considered asking Chay if he’d come with him to his old room, on the opposite corner of the tower, in an opposite wing.
His old room was haunted in its own way, anyway.
Chay had made the mistake of turning his back on Kim for the second time in one evening - as if he’d already forgotten how it resulted the first time. His phone had been blowing up since Kim had extracted him from the racecourse, and now, it was dying, too. Kim forced himself to look without touching.
Until he couldn’t any longer.
Chay hit send on a text as Kim brought a hand to rest on the tattoo. He slid his hand around Chay’s waist, to pull him close, hold him up from behind. Kim pressed his lips to Chay’s shoulder.
Chay brought a hand to rest on top of Kim’s, lolled his head back against Kim’s shoulder, to drape himself against Kim, give him better access. He let his phone clatter onto the side table in front of them.
“I had no idea you’d react this way ,” Chay commented, “Had no idea you were so vain.”
“It’s not about my name,” Kim offered, “It’s my name on you, Chay.” He pressed a line of kisses along Chay’s bare shoulder, towards his neck. Kim felt the vibration against his lips as Chay hummed, content.
Chay brought his other hand up to thread it in Kim’s hair, encouraging him to keep going. He tried to turn his head enough to kiss Kim. The corner of their mouths met in an almost-kiss that wasn’t quite on the right side of satisfying.
And then Chay was turning around in Kim’s arms to kiss him for real, deep and hungry. He started backing Kim towards the bed, with a hand on his chest.
Kim sat down when he felt the edge of the bed behind him. And then Chay was sliding onto his lap.
And now Kim’s mouth was too busy to ask Chay anything.
He let Chay take the lead, somewhat in awe that Chay wanted to lead, or knew where they were even going with this - beyond chasing every sudden, desperate need that clung to their hearts until it ached.
Chay’s hands framed Kim’s face as the kiss deepened. The line between the end of Kim and the beginning of Chay was blurred by soft lips, warm breath - Chay’s tongue against his.
There was so much more room for this now. Too much room, maybe. Kim threaded his fingers in the front belt loops of Chay’s pants to urge him closer.
Chay groaned against Kim’s mouth. He started tugging at Kim’s t-shirt, wordlessly asking him to remove it. Kim untangled his hands to oblige. He needed both hands to pull it up and over.
As soon as that was off, Chay put his hands on Kim’s shoulders, palms warm against his skin, and pushed him back onto the bed. For a moment, Kim watched Chay above him - dazed, helpless, as Chay’s eyes raked over his skin. He realized this was more of his skin than Chay had ever seen.
He’d missed Chay so much - missed how much Chay seemed to savor each and every new thing they did together, whether that was learning new chords, racing, or “racing.”
Chay sure had him half-naked and defenseless quickly, as if this too was a race.
Kim brought his hands to Chay’s knees, on either side of his hips, and ran the blunt edges of his fingernails up Chay’s thighs to get his attention. He pressed his hips up against Chay and bit his lip against the new wave of need that it sparked. Chay’s eyes shifted back up to Kim’s face.
His mouth was on Kim’s again in no time. And Kim’s hands were unfastening the clip at the waist of his riding pants as Chay kissed the hell out of him.
And then Chay slid off of Kim and tried to scramble further up onto the bed without breaking his lips off of Kims. Kim figured it out pretty quickly and scrambled after him. Chay put a hand on Kim’s hip to urge him onto his side, so they were facing one another.
Kim ran his fingertips from Chay’s chest, down over his abs, then turned his hand 180 degrees to palm at Chay’s co*ck through the front of his riding pants. Chay let out a needy moan against Kim’s lips. For a moment his fingers stilled against the clip on Kim’s pants, brain completely short-circuiting as Kim touched him.
Kim slid his hand under the waistband of Chay’s boxers, to touch him for real. He was unbelievably hard from what little they’d done. The thought made his own riding pants feel tighter. He’d worn the tightest ones he owned, thinking he wanted to look good for Chay, but now Chay couldn’t get them off of Kim fast enough.
He felt Chay slide the zipper down and then he was sliding a hand under Kim’s boxers, tugging his dick free. Kim inched closer, kissed Chay harder.
“P’Kim,” Chay begged against his lips.
Kim had half a thought to ask to hear his full name - the one that was tattooed on Chay’s back - in that beautiful, desperate, broken voice.
“Never pictured it with you in here,” Chay continued in a whimper, “Like this.”
“How’d you picture it then?” Kim asked. His question was punctuated with a gasp as Chay switched up the speed he was working Kim’s co*ck with in a way that made his hips flutter into Chay’s hand. “f*ck,” he added meaningfully - for emphasis.
“Not. Telling.” Chay asserted. His eyes were closed, brow drawn in pleasure, lips darkened from kissing, gently hanging open as he gasped.
Kim would absolutely be bringing that up later.
He stopped working Chay’s co*ck to run his thumb over the head of it for a moment, earning a high needy gasp from Chay. His hips twitched at the loss of contact. His eyes flew open - revealing dark, unbridled need. He was so beautiful like this.
Kim resumed his stroking - long, torturously slow pulls that made Chay’s co*ck throb in his hand.
Chay’s hand worked Kim’s frantically - his rhythm scattered as Kim picked up the pace.
“Don’t stop,” Chay breathed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Kim assured gently. He pressed his lips to Chay’s cheek, so he could listen to Chay’s breathing as he got closer and closer to the edge.
It was Kim who came first - he leaned over Chay, to bury his moans in Chay’s neck, against the warmth of his skin. Chay slowed the slide of his hand, pulling wave after wave of pleasure out of Kim, well beyond what he could do to himself.. It had no business being as good as it was - his grip on reality softened around the edges for a moment, grayed out. When he came back to himself, Chay was keening into Kim’s hand - enough that Kim could’ve stopped moving his arm and let Chay work it out all by himself - until his sighs broke like waves, and he was following Kim. Kim was still folded over Chay. He felt the warm stripes land against his chest.
He was light-headed when they finally came to a stop, both panting. He rolled onto his back to reach for the box of tissues he’d seen on the nightstand. He was completely brainless as he started to wipe Chay off, and then the few lines that had landed on himself.
Chay was just looking at him, breathing hard, still coming down from wherever Kim had sent him. It was enough breath to scare any ghost away. Kim gently moved Chay down onto his front so Kim could look at the tattoo again.
He pressed a kiss into the middle of Chay’s back, and then lower, lower, until his lips met the lines of ink.
Chay hummed softly against the bedspread. He crossed his arms and rested his head on them.
Kim would kiss each and every line until they felt like marks of devotion, not malediction.
oOoOoOoOo
Kim had been dreading the morning, so of course it came up for him quickly. He wanted to stay in bed with Chay, in this room - uncomplicated by family politics, the underworld, Kim’s own mistakes.
He was sort of surprised Chay hadn’t tried to escape in the early hours. Kim had thought about it himself - not to get away from Chay, but the situation itself.
His inclination had always been to run.
All that was visible was his dark mop of black hair against the bright white of the pillow cases. He turned over and wrapped himself around Kim.
Kim went back to sleep.
oOoOoOoOo
Kim’s phone was buzzing in the pocket of his jacket, draped over the chair across the room. Chay got out of bed, crossed the room to retrieve the jacket and dropped it onto the bed. He fished the phone out of Kim’s pocket and set it on the bed beside Kim.
Kim squinted at the screen before hitting the button to answer. It was Kinn, of course.
Chay perched on the edge of the bed, still shirtless. Kim brought a hand to rest on his tattoo.
“Porsche’s brother is still alive, yes?” Kinn asked.
“Mmmph,” Kim offered helpfully.
Chay had definitely heard that.
“Good,” Kinn praised, “I thought I would see if you might join me for lunch? I’d like to go over our plans for this evening.”
He was being weirdly fake-nice.
“Now?” Kim asked.
“Soon. How does that sound?” Kinn requested.
“May the leader of MWD join us?”
“Of course,” Kinn agreed, “I’m sure Porsche would like to spend some time with his brother.”
“Mmmph.”
Kim hung up.
Chay was looking at him.
He sat up and reached for Chay. Chay laid back onto the bed and brought his head to rest on Kim’s thigh. He gazed up at Kim, like he was waiting for Kim to say something.
Kim had no idea what Chay needed to hear right now - had no idea how to summarize their fight, their making up.
If it could even be called making up.
“Last night, I…” Kim started. He paused as his eyes landed on a deep, angry bruise forming on Chay’s wrist - From the cuffs, from the way Kim had commanded him away from the race course.
He reached for Chay’s hand and brought Chay’s wrist to his lips to press a reverent kiss to the color that was forming.
“Have you thought any more about what you want to bet on tonight?” Chay asked.
Right.
“Same question,” Kim offered, pressing his lips to the back of Chay's hand, “What’s something you’d only give me if I won it fair and square?”
“Peace,” Chay answered easily.
He smiled when Kim seemed confused by the answer.
“I’m not asking you for anything specific right now,” Chay elaborated, “But if you expect me to let you disappear on me again after last night, you’re going to have to earn the right. You will never know peace otherwise.”
Kim recognized a threat when he heard one. It made his heart flutter.
xXxXxXxXxXx
There was twice as much security at the race course, which had to be on account of Kim - or at least the shadow of Mafia that had followed him into the event. Attendance was up. The betting pool kept going up. Everyone wanted to see if the Theerapanyakul boy could take the leader of MWD two for two.
Kim caught the way some of the event staff glared at him as he made his was to the START.
He had no getaway car this time, no plan, no intention of running - whatever the results.
Chay was already on his bike, waiting for Kim.
As the mechanic rolled Kim’s bike up to the start line Chay turned to smile at Kim.
“You know, P’Kim, you never told me your wager?” Chay said, “There’s nothing you want?”
For a moment Kim just looked at Chay.
“If I win…” Kim said, “I want you to come back to me. Honestly. Be mine, Chay. Let me show you how capable I am of loving you.”
Chay just stared for a moment with his helmet in his hands as he considered Kim.
“Does that change your wager?” Kim prompted, “You said you reserved the right...”
Chay’s smile returned, burying whatever emotion Kim’s wager had stirred up.
“No,” he said, “If I win, you'll be initiated into MWD tonight. Do we have a deal?”
“Yeah. You’re mine,” Kim challenged.
“I think you’ll find it’s you who is mine, P’Kim,” Chay countered.
THE END. VROOM VROOM.
Plot Notes
- Kinn subtly coming to Kim’s defense every chance he gets - even when he’s mad at him for going rogue. <3
- I made Kim a little messy in this. He’s a calculating perfectionist with high standards, yes, but sometimes his calculations are bad. #Let Kim f*ck around and find out 2024
- Porsche is not upset about Chay being involved in organized crime. That would be hypocritical. He just doesn’t like the idea of his baby brother street racing. It's dangerous UwU
- The MWD are not a natural rival of the Theerapanyakuls. Biker gangs exist symbiotically. They are a lower tier/part of the greater criminal ecosystem.
- Characterization and backstory of Chay - since he is the most canon-deviant: I like to imagine he started working at the shop while he was trying to figure out what to do with his life. He was able to build trust with the mechanics easily because he is down to earth, and non-judgemental, so they initiated him. When the previous leader “vacated” (died? went to jail? idk) Chay was an obvious choice because everyone seemed to respect his stance on minor disagreements/infighting - at first this was just a result of his outsider perspective/being “the new guy,” but they came to view him as a mediator of sorts.
He is a young man so of course he likes to go fast on a motorcycle. In MWD he finally has friends who he can talk to about his past, and his home life. They protect each other. The thrill of it all - of belonging to a group, being taught to be self-sufficient and fix things with his hands, winning races? How alluring.Of course he’s aware of the nuances and implications of entering the underworld, and thought, too, about how Porsche would feel about it, but I don’t think of any of this as being about “rebellion” in the sense of getting back at Porsche/The Theerapanyakuls. The underworld is something he’s had to brush elbows with all his life. “Crime” does not equal “bad” to Chay, it does not necessarily reveal someone’s morality.
He refuses to be the only one required to play by the rules. No one else around him ever has.
- Do you suppose Kim has other "alignment issues" he needs Chay's help with?
- Ended on a cliffhanger because honestly either of them winning is just mmmmmmmm *chef kiss*
