Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Sparks of light were dancing in front of his eyes, a ringing of bells resonating almost deafeningly in his ears. It was a stunning contrast with the darkness and silence that reigned till a few seconds before. It must be a dream, he thought. He had no idea how long it had been since he closed his eyes. He didn’t even remember falling asleep. Slowly, fragments of memory came back to him.

Pete.

His tentative smile and glassy eyes as he stood by the pool filled Vegas’ mind. His attempt to recollect what happened was suddenly cut short by the painful awareness of his own chest rising and falling, air coming in and out of his sore lungs in an excruciatingly rhythmic process. A dull pain settled in his abdomen, pressing his consciousness to gradually resurface.

Vegas opened his eyes but immediately closed them again, blinded by the light coming in. He could hear a beeping sound and what seemed muffled voices coming from afar. He forced himself to open his eyes once more, blinking in rapid succession as he adjusted to the bright light.

He was lying in a hospital bed, with several tubes and wires connecting his body to various machines to his right. The light was coming from a window just a few paces away, but what caught his still fleeting attention was the dark figure blocking part of the rays coming through the glass. As he attempted to raise his head and have a better view of the person standing at the window, a stabbing pain shot in his abdomen and took his breath away, his head falling once again on the pillow. He couldn’t stop a low grunt from escaping his lips. A sudden motion at the window, the figure turning around.

“Vegas?”

The voice felt like music to his ears. He couldn’t believe he was actually there. Maybe he was still dreaming.

“Vegas!”

A hand was suddenly clasping his own, while another gently stroked his cheek. Vegas wanted to reach out and wipe away the tear that was sliding down the other’s face, but his arms felt impossibly heavy.

“Pete…” a rasp, more than an actual word.

An overwhelming sense of relief flooded his now racing heart, the pain just a vague notion discarded in the back of his mind. Along with the image of Pete in front of him came the rest of his memories of that day. The attack at the Main family residence, his father shot to death by Korn, Vegas himself almost taking his own life, Pete following him outside and their conversation by the pool. And then the unexpected shooting. Everything clicked into place.

He didn’t even notice Pete had pressed the button to call in the nurse. The young lady standing in the doorframe settled her eyes on Vegas’ now awake figure and quickly exited the room in search of a doctor. Pete was still holding his hand.

“You came back.” Pete was smiling through the tears.

“You were hungry,” Vegas managed to say, before the door opened and a doctor accompanied by two nurses entered the room.

Pete let go of Vegas’ hand, wiping at his eyes, but didn’t step back. Vegas was grateful he didn’t put more distance between them. He still couldn’t believe they were together again and having Pete by his side was the best reassurance he could ever ask for. His mind was fuzzy and he was feeling emotional from the whole situation. At least he could count on Pete being there. He suddenly remembered Pete’s words as he was kneeling behind him that night.

I’m right here.

Vegas momentarily shut his eyes, lost in the placid solace he gained from the knowledge that Pete was there and wouldn’t leave him alone.

 When he reopened them, the doctor had approached, greeting Pete from the other side of the bed, then turning to Vegas, a reassuring smile on his face.

“Hello, Khun Vegas. Can you talk? How are you feeling?” he reached out to feel Vegas’ pulse, at the same time checking the monitor for eventual abnormalities in the ECG.

“Tired,” responded Vegas, his voice now sounding somewhat acceptable. “Sore where I got shot.”

The doctor nodded. “You remember. That’s good. Anyway, it’s normal if you still feel some discomfort in your abdomen, considering your wounds are still healing. I’ll have the nurse give you an analgesic as soon as we’re done. Do you know where you are?”

Vegas took one last quick look around and answered, “Hospital. One of the Theerapanyakun family’s private rooms.”

“Correct. And do you know the time and date?”

Vegas remained silent for a moment, then simply replied, “No.”

The doctor didn’t seem particularly alarmed. Actually, he looked like he expected such an answer. He told him the date and Vegas realized he had been asleep for almost a month. He was still processing the information when the doctor asked him, pointing at Pete, “Do you know who that person is?”

Vegas looked at Pete with glazed eyes, the corner of his lips slightly curving upwards. “Pete Phongsakorn Saengtham.”

 The doctor checked Vegas’ temperature then turned to the nurse holding a tablet. “Apyretic. Seems also quite oriented, considered he just woke up. HR 64 bpm and BP 115/65”.

Back to Vegas, “Apart from your wounds, do you feel pain anywhere else? Headache?”

“Not so much as a headache, more like dizziness.”

The doctor hummed and proceeded with the physical examination, checking Vegas’ breathing, listening to his heart and asking various questions. As minutes went by, Vegas could feel the lethargy dissipating bit by bit, his attention spurred by the interaction with the doctor and simultaneously directed towards Pete.

At a certain point, the doctor took a pen out of his pocket and asked Vegas to follow it with his eyes as he moved it left and right, up and down, keeping his head still. After making sure that all his cranial nerves and reflexes were intact with an exasperating long series of exercises, he pulled off the covers to check the rest of his body. As he did so, Vegas turned to Pete, a tiny smile already forming on his lips, but it soon turned into a frown when he noticed the look of apprehension on Pete’s face, who was looking at the doctor’s maneuvers, worrying his lower lip.

Vegas’ focus was once again on the doctor.

“Can you please stretch your arms in front of you, palms facing upwards?”

Vegas raised his arms, but the left one was still lower than the other, the tissue around the bullet wound straining and aching from the movement. The doctor slightly corrected his position and then instructed, “Now close your eyes and keep this position until I tell you otherwise.”

Vegas complied. After about ten seconds the doctor allowed him to put down his arms and open his eyes. He probably noticed Vegas’ breath was getting ragged by the exertion and the ache. After all, he had spent almost a month asleep in bed without making any sort movement, at least not on his own. Vegas couldn’t deny that his current condition bothered him quite a bit, but he was lucid enough to understand that it was just a matter of time before things went back to normal. He needed to be patient.

The doctor tested the strength and sensitivity in both his arms and hands, even his fingers, and seemed pleased with the results. He then proceeded to his legs.

“Can you flex your toes towards yourself?”

Nothing happened. Everyone in the room stood still without saying a single word, waiting.

Vegas couldn’t fathom what was happening. His feet were there, perfectly healthy. Still, he couldn’t move a single finger. Not only his feet, but also his legs were unresponsive to his commands.

“I… I…  can’t…”

Vegas’ breathing was ragged not by exertion, but by the sheer panic that was taking ahold of his whole being. He was getting more and more distressed, his eyes wide open, hands shaking.

“I can’t… move…”

Vegas tried to sit up, ignoring the pain shooting in his still tender stomach, beads of cold sweat forming on his forehead. Pete and the doctor immediately took a step forward, each placing a hand on one of his shoulders to keep him from moving further.

“One thing at a time, Khun Vegas. Firstly, let’s-”

Before the doctor could even finish the sentence, Vegas shoved away the hands trying to push him down and instead grabbed the bed rail and used it as purchase to get all the way up to a sitting position, pain be damned. He clenched his fist and punched his thigh right above the knee. He felt no pain. A split second passed before he did it again, harder.

“Vegas, stop!” Pete’s alarmed voice registered only partially in Vegas’ mind.

Both nurses as well as the doctor and Pete where now trying to make him calm down and push him back on the bed, but Vegas’ grip on the bed rail was tighter than ever and the sudden rush of adrenaline had dissipated any trace of the previous dizziness. He raised one more time his free arm, white knuckles crowning his fist, but Pete grabbed it in time before it descended once again on Vegas’ thigh, preventing him from further hurting himself.

“Fuck! Fuck!” he screamed at the top of his lungs, unable to free himself from Pete’s grip. It felt somehow familiar and terrifyingly different at the same time.

Vegas was eventually pushed back on the mattress, hands restraining him and keeping him from thrashing around. And the more he tried to shake off those hands, the more his powerlessness became evident. He squeezed his eyes shut, an agonized scream leaving his throat. He was completely helpless. Things would never get back to the way they were before. He really thought he could survive this unscathed. What a fool. That’s what he got from trying to follow in his father’s steps. Tears were streaming down his temples, his throat sore from all the screaming. He heard Pete calling his name.

Right, Pete.

If the thought of Pete had previously provided him with strength and peace of mind, now it only seemed to drag him deeper down the cold pit of his desperation.

What kind of future could we possibly have? I would only be a burden, dragging him down with me.

Everything he had dared to dream of doing with Pete, their future together, was hopelessly gone.

“Vegas, please! You need to calm down! Please!”

He felt a hand stroking his sweat-damp hair. Vegas’ screaming subsided and he opened his eyes.

Pete’s face was just a few inches from Vegas’, a liquid glint in his eyes. So beautiful. So tragic. Vegas couldn’t bear to look at him, the thought of what could have been still vivid in his mind. He couldn’t stand to see that image floating away and being replaced by the much uglier and harsher reality.

As he turned away, he barely registered one of the nurses injecting something in his IV with a small syringe. Soon his eyelids became heavier and heavier, his arms going limp in the doctor’s and nurses’ grip, his focus fading. While he closed his eyes, he felt a slightly damp and soft touch on his lips, then everything went dark.

***

Pete had just got off the phone with Macau when the doctor approached him in the corridor and asked to follow him in the adjacent room. The doctor closed the door behind Pete and gestured for him to take a seat in one of the chairs across the waiting room. They were alone, since the whole wing was reserved to patients of the Theerapanyakun family, Vegas being the only one hospitalized at the moment. At least privacy was not an issue. The doctor took a seat right next to Pete and started talking, his tone calm and sympathetic.

“We gave Khun Vegas a sedative to calm him down, but he’ll soon wake up. Before going back inside, however, I would like to have a talk with you and his brother. Were you able to contact him?”

“Yes, he’s on his way to the hospital. He should be here any minute now.”

“Good. Then we can wait for him here. I instructed the nurses to send him this way as soon as he arrives.” He turned on the screen of the tablet he had been keeping under his arm the whole time. “We took advantage of Khun Vegas’ temporarily unconsciousness to perform another MRI. As soon as Khun Macau arrives, I’d like to discuss with you a few matters regarding his last scan.”

Pete nodded, then lowered his gaze, fidgeting with the phone still clasped in his hands. He could imagine what the doctor was about to say. They had already discussed it before, as soon as Vegas’ first scan results came in, when he was first brought to the hospital right after the shootout. The doctor had said Vegas’ spinal cord had been damaged by one of the bullets. They had managed to extract it and repair the vertebra, but there wasn’t much they could do for his severed nerves. The entity of the deficit caused by the injury could be ascertained only once Vegas woke up, performing a complete neurological evaluation. For the time being, they could only speculate on the repercussions based on the location of the lesion.

The remaining three bullets had been taken care of as well. Fortunately, none of them had reached any vital organs. One of them had actually perforated Vegas’ intestine, but the surgeon was able to stitch it back together removing just one short segment, no more than a few inches.

The wound on the side of his left arm had been the easiest to treat, since it was just a superficial scratch, but Pete already knew that. He had made it so that it wouldn’t leave any permanent damages, aside from some scarring.

Pete’s fidgeting came to a halt as he heard the door of the waiting room flung open. Macau didn’t even bother closing it again and strode directly towards Pete’s and the doctor’s now standing figures, an ecstatic smile on his face.

“Where is he? Is he awake right now? Can I see him?”

Pete hadn’t told Macau about Vegas’ earlier break-down, he believed better not to over the phone.

“Khun Vegas was taken downstairs for an MRI scan. He should be back in his room in a few minutes, if he’s not there yet.”

“Wonderful! Then we can go visit him right away.”

He was already turning around, but Pete gently grabbed him by the arm. “Before visiting, the doctor here would like to discuss a couple of things with us.” Pete turned to look at the doctor.

“Yes. Please, let’s take a seat, Khun Macau.”

The brightness in Macau’s smile toned down until what remained was just a display of courtesy from his part, all the self-confidence long gone as he hesitantly sit in one of the empty chairs.

“Okay. I’m listening.”

The doctor took a deep breath, leaning his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. “I don’t know how much Khun Pete has told you over the phone…” he trailed off.

“He said Vegas had woken up, that’s it. Why?”

The doctor briefly glanced at Pete, then focused his attention back on Macau. “Khun Vegas woke up indeed and was quite lucid considering the time he spent asleep. His parameters are perfectly normal. His wounds are healing very well, as you already know.” After a pause, “However, proceeding with the neurological examination, he encountered some… difficulties.”

Macau’s expression became unreadable.

“I see.” The silence that followed was deafening, until Macau decided to break it again. “Will he be able to walk?” his tone devoid of any emotion, face blank.

“We didn’t complete the evaluation, but from what was gathered I’d say it’s very unlikely.”

Pete knew Macau was putting up a front, trying to keep himself together, not letting the shock transpire through his countenance, even though the bad news didn’t come exactly as a surprise. After all, Macau had been the first one to be informed about his brother’s condition and the possible consequences following his surgery. If he had forgotten about it in the joy of the moment or had simply persuaded himself that everything would’ve turned out okay, Pete couldn’t know. What he knew was that Macau needed him. Vegas needed him.

Pete stood up and crouched in front of Macau, whose gaze was lost staring at the void just above Pete’s shoulder. “Macau, look at me.”

The boy didn’t respond, a muscle in his cheek shifting as he clenched his jaw, eyes slowly glazing.

Pete then held Macau’s face in his hands and forced him to look down, straight into his eyes.

“I’m not going anywhere. You and Vegas are not alone in this, you understand?”

A tear dropped on Pete’s sleeve.

“You understand?” firmer this time.

Macau nodded and Pete let go of his face to pull him in a tight embrace. He felt the boy’s hands coming up his back and gripping at his shoulders. Shaking transmitted to Pete’s body, but not a single sob could be heard. They stayed like this for a while, Macau the first one to pull back, apparently calmer, looking for a handkerchief to wipe his red eyes and nose. The doctor handed him a pack of tissues and Pete saw in Macau’s expression the moment he realized the other man was still in the room with them. Macau hesitantly accepted the offer, muttering a feeble ‘thank you’, trying to recompose himself as quickly as possible.

Pete put a hand on Macau’s knee and sit back in the chair next to him.

A few seconds passed, then Macau turned towards the doctor. “You said you didn’t complete the evaluation, why? What happened?”

“Khun Vegas was very upset so we had to give him a tranquilizer.”

“I thought he was out doing an MRI?”

“Exactly. We seized the opportunity to make another scan, now that he has woken up. This,” tablet in hand, he turned the screen towards Pete and Macau, “is the last image we acquired. While this one,” he opened another folder and a seemingly identical picture popped up on the screen, “is the first one that was taken after the surgery. As you can see, they’re very similar. However, in today’s scan, the area of his spinal cord seemingly affected by the injury is slightly smaller. This is probably due to the reabsorption of the original edema and also a retraction of the damaged tissue, but it could also mean that the actual damage is maybe less than what we initially expected.”

“So… it’s a good thing?” just the slightest hint of hope in Macau’s voice.

“It could be, yes. That’s why it’s imperative we conclude the neurological examination as soon as possible. It’s the only way to ascertain exactly which functions are still intact, which are gone and which, if any, could possibly be improved.”

Pete watched as Macau quickly got up to his feet. “Well then what are we waiting for? Let’s go.”

Pete really admired Macau’s spirit. Hearing his older brother would likely never walk again was certainly a hard blow to take in and, although he may not show it, Pete knew Macau was still very scared about what would come next, the radical turn his life, their lives, were about to take. Still, Macau was standing there, eager to assist his older brother in every way he possibly could, his own fears set aside for the time being. In the time spent working for the Main family, Pete had never witnessed a single instance of such affection among Khun Korn’s three siblings. Maybe it was the tacit alliance against their violent father, maybe their common animosity towards the Main family. Whatever the reason, it was undeniable that Macau and Vegas’ bond was the strongest in the Theerapanyakun family.

Pete stood beside Macau, a hand on the other’s shoulder, while the doctor smiled and turned the tablet off, standing as well.

“I’m glad to see you’re eager to help your brother, but I also want to make sure you got the right picture. I stand by what I said before: there’s practically no chance for your brother to walk again. But there might still be other things that could be improved, even though it won’t be easy. I just want to make sure you’re prepared to face him as he is right now.”

“He’s my brother.”

“Of course, but he’s still processing what happened to him, so it’s probably going to be quite unpleasant.”

Macau sneered. “You clearly didn’t grow up with him.”

Pete’s lips curved into a soft smile at Macau’s attempt to ease the tension wrecking his nerves.

“I know this might sound inconsiderate of your own feelings,” the doctor continued after a pause, “but Khun Vegas needs someone to lean on, someone who can help him find the will to go on. When we go back in that room, no matter what happens, you need to stay strong. For your brother.”

A determined expression settled on Macau’s face. “I will.” He then turned towards Pete. “We will.”

***

Vegas woke up again in his hospital bed. The light-brown curtains had been closed, so the light streaming in was enough to make out the silhouette of objects and furniture but not quite their actual colors. The pain in the lower part of his abdomen had significantly subsided, probably due to the medicine they had previously injected him. A set of electrodes still connected him to the heart monitor on his right, though the beeping sound was now turned off. Judging by the rearrangement of the curtains and monitor, they had probably thought it best for him to rest some more, which also explained why he was left alone in the room. The lower half of his body was once again covered by a white sheet and a soft blanket.

Vegas stretched his hand towards the lamp switch to turn the light on, but he couldn’t quite reach it. He grabbed the bed rail and managed to cover the remaining distance, noticing his phone lying on the bedside table. He grabbed it and fell back on the cushion with a thud. He tried to turn it on to check the time, but it was evidently out of power. In a surge of frustration, he threw it to the side, hearing the clatter of different pieces scattering across the floor.

Not long after a nurse came in to check on the noise and greeted him with a smile “Oh, you’re awake. I’ll call the doctor right away.” She rapidly disappeared, her steps resonating along the empty corridor.

Vegas wasn’t sure he was ready for another round of pulling and poking and he definitely wasn’t ready to see Pete again so soon. He wished they would just leave him alone. He knew that if he were to be forced to interact with anyone at the moment, he might as well just yell and throw stuff at their face. Agony was replaced by fury, a consistent part of it directed towards himself. He clenched his fists, fingernails digging deep in the palms of his hands.

Three people suddenly stepped into the room, one of them immediately hovering over the bed and squeezing Vegas in a tight hug.

“I missed you so much, Bro!”

After a moment’s hesitation, Vegas wrapped one arm around Macau’s back, patting it lightly.

“Took you long enough to wake up!” said his little brother as he drew back, regarding him with a fond look in his eyes.

Vegas didn’t know how to feel seeing his little brother now standing in front of him, eyes glowing. Luckily, he wasn’t given the chance to dwell on it, since the doctor came forward.

“Good afternoon, Khun Vegas. How are you feeling now?” his tone polite as always.

Vegas was aware of Pete’s presence just a few steps away, but decided to ignore it, same as the doctor’s question.

“What time is it?” he asked instead.

“Almost 4 pm.”

Vegas nodded, his tone sharp when he spoke again, “What do you want now?”

The doctor cut to the chase. “We haven’t concluded your physical evaluation yet. I know it’s probably the last thing you wish to do right now, but I can’t stress enough how important it is in view of your rehabilitation process.”

“Rehabilitation?” Vegas scoffed. “What’s there left to rehabilitate?”

Macau stepped in. “Don’t talk like that.”

Vegas stared at him.

“There’s still plenty of things you can do. It may not be ideal, but your life is not over.”

“Not ideal? I can’t move my legs, Macau. I’ll be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of my life. Do you have any idea what it means?” Vegas knew there was no point in taking out his anger on his brother, yet he couldn’t stop the words coming out of his mouth.

Macau wouldn’t desist though. “But you won’t be alone, I’ll help-”

“What could you possibly do to help, besides watching me struggle to do things even a three-year-old could do, uh?” shouted Vegas, anger getting the best of him. “You don’t know the first thing about pain. When were you of any help? If it weren’t for you, I’d have suffered half the beatings I took from Pa!”

The slap hit him hard across the face. Blindsided, Vegas tasted blood in his mouth where he had bitten his tongue.

Pete was immediately grabbed by the doctor. Vegas hadn’t even noticed him approaching.

“Let go of me!” Pete easily shrugged him off, making no attempt to hit Vegas again, which seemed to be enough to convince the doctor there was no need to restrain him once more.

“I know you’re hurting, Vegas. I know. But I won’t let you do this to Macau, or yourself. You have no idea the hell he went through while you were unconscious all these weeks. How can you say that to him, of all people?” He sighed, shaking his head. Then, he turned back towards the doctor. “Could you please give us a minute?”

The other man’s gaze went back and forth between Vegas and Pete a couple of times. In the end, he turned around and left, closing the door behind himself as he did so.

Macau was standing behind Pete, stunned by the other’s violent reaction. Vegas’ words had hurt, but he knew his brother didn’t mean anything of what he had said regarding him. That’s why he didn’t expect the ex-bodyguard to come to his rescue the way he did. The boy looked at the way Pete was staring at Vegas, while his brother’s eyes were resolutely fixed on the floor.

Oh, I see.

This time it was Macau’s turn to put a hand on Pete’s shoulder, his look conveying the message hidden behind his plain words. “I’ll step out for a minute as well, P’Pete.”

Pete, who had turned around at the pressure on his shoulder, searched Macau’s face for a split second before giving him a single nod and watching him disappear behind the door. They were alone now.

Vegas still refused to meet Pete’s eyes, staring at a nick in the wooden floor, his face turned away. Nevertheless, he could practically feel Pete’s glare on him.

“What the hell are you doing?”

No answer.

“You think it’s going to be that easy, pushing me away?”

At that, Vegas shut his eyes in a desperate attempt to maintain control, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “Why are you still here?” he asked.

“Where else should I be?”

“You have a secure position at the Main family's compound as Tankhun’s head bodyguard. What’s the point of risking it all to be here?”

“There’s nothing left to risk. I quit the day you got shot.”

Vegas’ eyes flung open with shock and he looked at Pete for the first time since he entered the room, mouth gaping. “Why?”

“Do you really want me to spell it out for you?” Pete closed the distance that separated him from the bed. He slowly leaned down, bracing himself with one hand on the other side of Vegas’ pillow, their faces inching closer with each passing second. Vegas had nowhere to run.

“I love you, you idiot,” whispered Pete, the puff of air caressing Vegas’ cheek, undoing him completely.

“I can’t do this, Pete,” said Vegas shaking his head, eyes watery, distress evident in his voice. He pressed the palm of his hand on Pete’s chest and pushed him away.

“Why not? What’s changed?” Pete’s anguished tone tearing Vegas’ ears apart.

“Everything’s changed!” cried Vegas. “Look at me! There’s nothing I can offer you. I got nothing left.”

“You keep repeating that, but I’m right here!” Pete clasped Vegas’ hand in his own. “All I want is to be with you. Nothing more.”

“But you deserve more. How could you stay by my side when even I can’t stand myself?”

“Then it means I’ll love you for the both of us.”

Vegas turned away, but Pete was quick to grab his chin, forcing him to maintain eye contact.

“I’m not giving up,” stated, sealing the promise with a kiss, his lips crashing against Vegas’ with a desperation he hadn’t felt in a while. He didn’t try to deepen the kiss though.

Vegas on the other hand felt like a lost soul who had just been granted a sip of water after days of wandering in the desert. Fists clinging at the front of Pete’s shirt, he wanted to drink in every drop of his flavor, the residual metallic taste now overcome by a much sweeter one.  They pulled apart to catch their breath, lips shining and cheeks flushed.

“I don’t want to be a burden for you.”

Pete shushed him, “You could never be a burden. I love you, Vegas. Macau loves you. You’re not alone.”

His lips curved in a reassuring smile. Vegas felt tears surging up once again. A shaky breath, “I love you, Pete.”

Pete lowered the bed rail and laid down beside Vegas, holding him in his arms. Neither of them spoke, both savoring the warmth coming from their nestled bodies, Vegas’ head resting in the crook of Pete’s neck. They stayed like this for a while, Pete soothingly stroking Vegas’ damp cheek with his thumb.

Then, Pete whispered, “Shall I call the doctor in now?”

“Just a few more minutes. Please.”

“Alright.”

Vegas had no idea whether he was doing the right thing or not, allowing Pete to stay with him. His feeling of guilt not so easily washed away. His heart was torn between the desire to have Pete by his side and the wish to see him live a happy and easy life, without all the hardships that came along with dealing with Vegas’ condition.

However, after their exchange, he was not so sure anymore that his decision to push Pete away would eventually grant the other the happiness he deserved. Pete was, and had always been, the most loyal person Vegas had ever met. It might not seem that way now that he had left the Main family in favor of the Minor one’s broken heir, yet Vegas knew Pete had never betrayed his beliefs. What Pete was loyal to, was his own heart. And that was the purest form of honesty there could ever be.

He also knew Pete loved him, for which reason insisting on making him keep his distance from Vegas was just the same as asking him to be dishonest with himself. Either way, Pete would be suffering.

In the end, Vegas’ selfishness, or maybe his lavish respect for the other’s beliefs, had triumphed, and he eventually chose to let Pete in.

“I’m ready now,” Vegas’ low voice resonating in the space between them.

Pete’s smile lit up the darkness in Vegas’ heart.

***

The missing part of the neurological examination took up the remaining part of the afternoon. The doctor was very meticulous and insisted on testing several functions multiple times. Pete and Macau had stayed outside, but when they realized it would probably be a while before the doctor completed his task, Macau decided to make a quick trip to buy dinner and a few things Vegas might need, including a new phone, apparently.

Pete was left pacing in the corridor. At one point, he opted to step outside for a quick smoke, hoping it would help calm his nerves at least a bit.

He was standing on the terrace when he heard his phone ringing. He looked at the caller ID and put out the cigarette before answering, “Hey Porsche. What’s up?”

“Nothing much. Just wanted to hear how you’re doing.”

“I’m good,” blurted out Pete too quickly, his apprehension barely concealed.

After a short break, “Is everything alright?”

Pete hadn’t yet informed anyone about Vegas’ awakening, except for Macau. He pondered if it was the right time to break the news to the Main family, considering they would probably come visit right away and put Vegas under further stress, while Pete believed he had already gone through enough for one day.

However, Porsche was also his friend, and heavens knew if Pete felt the need to talk to someone right now.

“Actually…uh, Vegas woke up today.”

“That’s great, Pete!” Porsche’s voice ringing in his ear, “I’m really happy for you! And how is he doing?”

Pete bit his lip, trying to remain composed, “Well, he’s a bit stunned after sleeping for almost a month. But could you please keep the news to yourself, just for a short while longer? You know, I was hoping he could have a couple more days to stabilize before someone from the Main family came rushing in.”

“Yes, of course. I get it. And don’t worry, this is my personal phone, so rest assured that no one’s listening in. You guys take all the time you need to rest,” Porsche’s tone clearly hinting they might be doing something more than resting.

Pete let out an amused scoff, “Yeah, right.” Then looked down at the tip of his shoes.

The silence protracted for too long.

“You don’t sound so happy, though. Are you sure everything’s okay? You know you can talk to me,” any trace of playfulness gone in his friend’s voice.

Pete took a deep breath, then answered, “Vegas… he… he will probably never walk again.”

“What?!”

“Yeah… You know how the doctor said his spinal cord had been damaged by one of the bullets, but couldn’t ascertain the entity of the damage till Vegas woke up. Well, I guess we all hoped for the best, but that hasn’t turned out to be the case.”

“Shit… Pete, I never imagined… What the hell…”

“Yeah, exactly.”

Porsche tentatively asked, “So… What are you going to do now?”

Pete raised his head. “I’m going to stay by his side. He needs me, now more than ever. I won’t betray my feelings again.” After a pause, “I love him, Porsche.”

“I know,” his voice almost resigned, “and I still don’t understand how that’s possible, but as long as you’re happy I’m rooting for you.”

“Thank you, Porsche.” Pete was truly grateful to have such a friend. He felt somewhat relieved, as well as a little guilty. “I’m sorry for not being much around lately. With your mother’s situation and all, I can only imagine what kind of hell it must have been…”

“Ah, don’t even mention it. You had your own problems to take care of. Moreover, there’s always Kinn here to help me. You, on the other hand…” he trailed off.

“Macau has been very helpful. Sure, he was busy with classes, but he ran here every day as soon as he was finished with school.”

“I know, Chay told me about that. I encouraged him to lend Macau a hand now and then, considering his circumstances. I don’t know if he followed through though. Recently he’s been quite closed off and in addition to that I’ve been really busy handling business here, so we don’t get to talk as much as before.”

“Macau mentioned him a few times, so I guess Chay did help him. Either way don’t sweat it about Chay, it’s probably just a phase,” Pete tried to comfort him.

“I guess.” Porsche cleared his voice. “What about Macau? How did he take the news?”

Pete sighed, “He was initially shocked, of course. But I think he’s been handling it very well, everything considered. He loves his brother very much.”

As Pete finished the sentence, he noticed the doctor’s frame passing by in the corridor on the other side of the glass door.

“I gotta go now, Porsche. Sorry. I’ll try and update you as soon as I can.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“And Porsche.”

“Yes?”

“I’m counting on you to keep this confidential.”

“Of course, Pete. My lips are sealed.”

“Thank you. Bye.”

Pete quickly disconnected the call and put the phone back in his pocket as he ran after the doctor.

The latter had just turned around the corner when Pete caught up with him, breathing ragged only partly from the run, but mostly because of the anxiety gripping at his chest.

“How did it go?” asked Pete in one breath.

The doctor replied, “There you are, I was looking for you. Khun Macau is already back in the room with Khun Vegas. I suggest we join them, then I will explain everything to the both of you.”

Pete nodded and followed the doctor as they walked past several empty rooms and eventually reached the one Vegas was staying in at the end of the corridor.

Squeezing the handle in his grip, Pete shut the door behind his back as he entered.

***

According to the doctor, Vegas had suffered an incomplete laceration of his spinal cord at T11 level, leaving him incapable of moving any muscle in his legs. The good news was that Vegas still retained both proprioception and vibratory sense through his joints, though he had completely lost pain, temperature and light touch sensation. Which meant Vegas could still somehow feel his own legs and feet, although he couldn’t move them or perceive when someone touched him. The same went for his autonomic functions, as he could feel deep anal pressure, but completely lacked voluntary anal contraction and bladder control, which forced him to depend on catheters and other devices to carry out even those basic functions.

Furthermore, the doctor had stated that his sexual function as well would probably be affected, though the possibility of a reflexogenic erection should not be dismissed.

When Vegas had blatantly asked if he would be able to have an orgasm, the doctor politely replied that that would be up to Vegas and his partner to explore and find out.

After that, the doctor had laid out Vegas’ rehabilitation program, which included strengthening of the upper half of his body, passive mobilization exercises for his legs, wheelchair training, TAI and ISC training and psychotherapy, the last of which Vegas had strongly refused. In addition to all that, the doctor had listed a series of devices Vegas would need at home once he got discharged, first of all a wheelchair, of course.

As Pete and the doctor left momentarily to discuss a few last details about Vegas’ scheduled physiotherapy, Macau flopped into a chair next to Vegas, one arm propped on the chair backrest, legs spread as he sat backwards.

“Well, that was a lot,” he said scratching his head.

Vegas didn’t reply, thinking instead how much all of it would cost them. Money had never been an issue, but now that his father was gone and his uncle Korn was free to do as he pleased, Vegas had no idea what his line of credit would be in the future. Of course, he remembered their uncle offering to take care of him and his brother, and to at least some extent he stood by what he said, considering where Vegas was currently staying. Even so, there was no guarantee that Korn’s benevolence would last longer than Vegas’ hospitalization. At the very least, they still had their home. Vegas supposed Kinn had been taking care of the Minor family's business while he was unconscious, Macau not even being an option given his young age and lack of experience.

Better this way, thought Vegas. He had always disliked the idea of his little brother being dragged into his father’s corrupt circle of affairs.

Vegas shook his head. He didn’t want to ponder on such things, at least for the time being. He laid his back more comfortably on the pillows keeping him upright.

“What did you buy for dinner?” he asked his brother.

Macau stood up and reached the table in the corner of the room. He began rummaging through a plastic bag, enumerating the various dishes as he took them out, “Khao man gai, moo ping, khao phat and some cake. You can have the chicken broth if you want, the doctor said it should be okay.”

Vegas scowled at the tray of food left by a nurse not long before: a bowl of congee and a cup of hot tea.

“Thank you. I think I’ll take you up on that chicken offer.”

“Chicken broth,” corrected Macau. He then retrieved the food and placed it on the bed tray. “Here. It should still be warm.”

“Thanks, but I’m going to wait for Pete. I want to make sure he eats as well.”

Macau just nodded, then turned back to the table to retrieve his own food.

“You know, P’Pete stayed by your side the whole time when you were unconscious,” he spoke casually as he took out a plastic spoon and opened the lid of his boxed khao phat. “The doctor told me he’s the one that brought you here. Initially, I wasn’t sure if I could trust him.” He turned around and sat back in the chair.

Vegas was watching him intently, a mixture of apprehension, curiosity and confusion painted on his face.

Macau devoured a huge spoonful of rice, then continued, “But then, I saw the way he took care of you. It was actually him giving you sponge baths most of the times, instead of the nurses. He slept here every night, whereas I often returned to the mansion because of classes.” He took another spoonful of rice, chewed it and gulped it down. He set his eyes on Vegas, his expression calm and serious.

“I’m glad you two have worked things out.”

Before Vegas could reply, the door flung open and two young, well-dressed men came in.

“So. Apparently, it’s true what I’ve been told. You’re actually awake now, cousin.”

Kinn was standing in the middle of the room, Porsche just one step behind.

Vegas was expecting a visit from the Main family. In fact, he was almost surprised it took them so long to come check on his miserable condition.

“Hello, Kinn. Porsche,” he tilted his head in acknowledgement. “I guess news travels fast, but not as fast as I imagined.”

Kinn’s gaze dropped to Vegas’ legs for a brief instant, then he averted his eyes and focused on the other’s taut face.

An uneasy silence brought about quite an oppressive atmosphere, that got more and more tense with each passing second. Macau, who on the contrary didn’t expect the sudden intrusion, was glaring at Kinn and Porsche alternately. He put aside his meal and raised to his feet, ready to intervene at any moment.

After a few more seconds of silence, Kinn sighed, his features apparently more relaxed.

“I came here to greet you on behalf of the rest of family. We’re glad to have you back.” He outstretched his hand, but the other didn’t seem interested in shaking it anytime soon, so he just dropped it to his side.

“That’s it?” asked Vegas.

“No. I also came to inform you about Papa’s decision pertaining your status in the family business,” replied Kinn, his voice now practical.

Macau stepped in, “Vegas just woke up, you shouldn’t—"

“It’s fine, Macau. Let him say what he wants so he can leave.” Vegas tilted his head signaling he was listening.

“Since you got shot, Papa appointed someone to take care of matters on your hands as well…”

“Yeah, I’m sure it must’ve been hard for you, doing double the work,” sarcasm pouring from Vegas’ voice.

“I was not the one appointed. Porsche was.”

“What?!” Vegas couldn’t believe his ears. Porsche had no experience in running such a business, it was totally idiotic to suddenly put him at the reins. Working as a bodyguard might have given him some insight on how things worked, but there was still so much he was lacking. Not to mention the guy joined them less than a year before. “Are you kidding?”

Porsche took a step forward and placed a hand on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “Maybe we shouldn’t do this right now...”

But Kinn wouldn’t take the insult directed to his lover and proceeded defending him, “He’s been handling things pretty well so far. Also, he’s the son of Papa and uncle Gun’s adoptive sister, Namphueng, thus Papa insisted on giving him a more prominent position in the family business. And I agree with him.”

So that was the reason his father had kept a picture of Porsche’s mom in his studio all these years. Vegas couldn’t care less.

“Porsche is the new head of the Minor family, Vegas. And he will continue to be so in the future as well. Given your—"

Vegas threw the bowl of chicken broth at Kinn, who was able to dodge it just thanks to his quick reflexes, resulting in the warm liquid splashing against the wall behind.

“What the fuck are you talking about?!” shouted Vegas, words coming out in English, “What about me and Macau? Where are we supposed to go now if he’s taken up our home, uh?” His chest rising and falling with heavy breaths.

“Listen, there’s no need to—”

Kinn was interrupted by another person entering the room. Pete was looking at his former boss with anything but joy in his eyes. The whole situation turned into chaos.

“What are you doing here? I thought we had a deal,” said Pete to his friend.

“It’s not what you think,” stated Porsche, “I didn’t say a word. One of the nurses informed Korn less than an hour ago.”

Kinn turned to his boyfriend, scoffing “So that’s why you insisted on coming, you already knew.”

“What now? Mad that your boyfriend is keeping secrets from you, Kinn? Are you maybe regretting your decision?” spit Vegas with venom.

“Bro, calm down…” Macau’s plea went unheard.

“You were supposed to give us some more time. I would’ve prepared him to the news…”

Vegas shot an astonished look at Pete. “You knew about this and didn’t tell me?”

“There was no time—"

“Who’s the one being kept in the dark, now?” Kinn’s snide remark fueling Vegas’ anger.

“Stop it, Kinn.”

“That’s right, Porsche, tell your master to keep quiet!” snapped Vegas.

“Fuck off!”

“ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP!”

Everyone went silent and turned to Macau.

His hands were closed in white-knuckled fists, body tense and jaw clenched. He inhaled sharply before speaking.

“Stop behaving like a bunch of kids. You all should see yourselves right now. You,” he pointed his finger at Kinn and Porsche, “could really have waited for a better time to do this. And yes,” he turned to Vegas, “I already knew about it, too. But if you had just given me the chance, I could have explained to you that P’Pete and I have already found a solution, so we’re not going to be homeless. All this fighting is pointless. What’s done is done. I always hated the thought of what Pa had you do to achieve his goals. I can only be glad you don’t have to deal with that shit ever again. Unless of course that’s what you want.”

Macau raised his chin, challenging his brother. Vegas did not speak. So, he went on, “And you,” he said addressing once again his cousin, “just because uncle Korn sent you here it doesn’t mean you get to disrespect my brother. You said what you had to, now you can take your leave.”

Kinn was flabbergasted by Macau’s reaction, as well as his words. He looked from the boy to Vegas, to Pete and then back to Macau again. They all looked at him with various degrees of hostility, though Pete seemed also somewhat sorry that the situation had escalated to such level.

“Well, if you want it to be this way, then I won’t be the one running after you,” said Kinn, his tone bitter.

“Let’s go, Porsche. We’ve clearly outstayed our welcome.” He walked past Pete and left the room. Porsche was quick to follow, but before leaving he stopped at Pete’s side.

“I’m sorry. I was hoping coming here together would make things easier, but he can be really stubborn sometimes,” muttered Porsche apologetically.

“I know. Thanks anyway,” Pete sounded resigned.

After Porsche left, Pete had a better chance to take a look at the room: broth smeared all over the wall, the empty bowl broken into pieces scattered across the floor. He didn’t say a word and started cleaning up the mess.

“Leave it. The cleaning staff will take care of that,” ordered Vegas sternly.

Pete sighed and got up to his feet.

“I’m sorry you had to find out about it this way. But Macau is right. I know you spent your whole life in that environment, but there’s no reason to keep working in that business if there’s a better option.”

“Which is?”

Pete and Macau exchanged a look before the latter continued, “After Pa’s funeral, uncle Korn came looking for me to talk about Porsche’s circumstances and him taking over the Minor family. He wasn’t exactly prone to negotiate, he made it sound more like that was his final decision. Still, he said he would provide for us and we could always remain at the Minor family's mansion with Porsche, or go live with them at the main residence.”

Vegas flinched, a scowl altering his features.

“Exactly,” continued Macau, “I thought you might not like the idea. So I told him that since he had already replaced you, there was no reason to keep ties with them, especially if it meant staying where they run the same business they cut you off from. I said we would gladly settle somewhere else, provided he gave us the means to do so. He insisted that after Pa’s death it was the bare minimum he could do.”

Vegas doubted that Macau knew uncle Korn was the one who shot their father in the head. He had no idea what his little brother had been told, but judging from the lack of resentment in his voice, they had probably just said he was killed in the attack without going into further details. In the end, Vegas guessed there was no point to it anyway.

 Macau continued, “He gave us some old investment funds that should be worth a lot by now and he let us keep the safehouse and surrounding land to go live there.”

“Why specifically the safehouse?” asked Vegas, his brows furrowed.

“Actually… I suggested that,” intervened Pete in a delicate voice, “I thought it could be a fitting place to start over.” He lowered his gaze, not really setting it on anything specific.

Vegas regarded him with an unreadable expression for a while. Eventually, he said, “Alright.”

He didn’t add anything more, just sighed and looked out of the window. Pete didn’t know what to make of Vegas’ reaction, or better, his lack thereof, so he just turned around and resumed cleaning the floor, his features set in deep thought.

Macau, on the other hand, went to retrieve the food he had previously set aside and spurred Vegas to eat something as well.

After dinner, a nurse came in for a quick check, then left with Vegas’ empty tray. They spent the rest of the evening in silence, Vegas falling asleep after a short while, clearly exhausted from the events of the day. Macau had returned to the Minor family's mansion to start sorting and packing their stuff in order to move it to the safehouse, now that Vegas had agreed upon it. Pete could only imagine how awkward the boy’s temporary reunion with Porsche would be.

Moving the armchair closer to Vegas’ bed, he managed to find a comfortable enough position to fall asleep. His eyes remained fixed on the rhythmic rising and falling of the other’s chest, until the tiredness of the day got the best of him and he fell in a dreamless sleep.

***

The doctor prognosticated that the duration of the rehabilitation would be around six months, but after witnessing Vegas’ first physiotherapy session, he corrected his statement saying it could probably take way less in his specific case, given he was already quite athletic and didn’t need to particularly strengthen the muscles in the upper half of his body. In addition to that, Vegas’ strong determination could significantly accelerate the process.

The first time Pete saw Vegas sitting in a wheelchair, he felt tears pooling in his eyes and dropped to one knee pretending to be lacing his shoe, head bowed, fringe falling down and hiding his glassy eyes from the others’ view. In that moment, he really felt like they were past the point of no return. However, he would have to get accustomed to such view if he wanted to be of any help for Vegas. He quickly recomposed himself and smiled maybe a bit too brightly at the other, who just arched an eyebrow, asking, “What?” as he went for his first spin.

Since that day, Pete would always accompany Vegas to his physiotherapy sessions, encouraging him when he was having a hard time with a new exercise and praising him whenever he completed one. He often wondered where Vegas could find the strength to repeat set after set so many times, not only at the gym, but also after they got back to his room. Some exercises looked pretty tough even for Pete, let alone Vegas, who was also weighed down and hindered by his unmoving legs. The wheelchair training seemed particularly vexing in Pete’s eyes. Vegas had to learn how to go up ramps and climb his way back up in case he fell off his wheelchair. He also learned how to get on and off the bed without assistance, using a transfer board to shift from one place to the other. Pete was amazed by his progression.

However, not everything was always ideal. There were times when Vegas’ energy ran low and he would just lie in bed, a gloomy look in his eyes, refusing to go to the hospital gym for his scheduled appointment. In such cases, Pete would just patiently wait a few minutes to give Vegas some time to change his mind on his own, after which he would basically drag him out of bed and onto the wheelchair until Vegas’ reaction to being manhandled kicked in and he agreed to go with an exasperated growl. Luckily, it didn’t happen frequently, given Vegas’ combative spirit, but when it did, things might turn quite unpleasant really quickly. Still, Vegas never once told Pete to leave after they got to the gym. As a matter of fact, he often glanced in his direction whenever Pete got suddenly quiet, just to make sure he was still there.

Another constant, though less prevalent presence was provided by Macau, who came visiting every day after classes. Sometimes, he recounted what happened at school with his friends, other times he just sat there in silence doing his homework. Regardless, he always helped whenever Vegas needed assistance and Pete was not around. He also talked excitedly about his plans for late summer, when Vegas would likely be discharged and they would eventually go to live in the safehouse. During those times, Vegas just remained silent and listened calmly to his brother’s non-stop, enthusiastic monologue. When it was over, he simply quirked his lips in a brief, tiny smile, humming at best, to let Macau know he had been in fact listening to what he was saying. He would then pick up whatever the nearest object was, the tv remote, a book, his phone, even the TAI kit instruction manual, and pretended to focus on that. Macau was too caught up in his own discourses to notice, but Pete never missed the way Vegas shut himself away whenever the safehouse was mentioned. He thought about bringing up the subject, but eventually decided otherwise.

As Vegas was becoming more and more independent in his activities, Pete as well was relying less and less on the hospital staff’s help, preparing for when Vegas would finally be discharged.

Weeks passed by; the torrid heat now inconsistently disrupted by the very first rains of the monsoon season.

Pete was currently stretching Vegas’ legs as the physiatrist had instructed, waiting for the scheduled time of the gym appointment.

“Your legs seem less stiff than before. I guess these exercises really do the trick,” said Pete as he continued with his ministrations. “You’ve also retained more muscle volume than the doctor expected.”

Vegas chuckled at this. “Must be thanks to someone’s meticulous care.”

“You think?” A grin forming on Pete’s lips. He enjoyed these peaceful, private moments between the two of them. Macau was off to school, only a few more days left to attend by now; the doctor and nurses only ever coming in at meal times at this point. “Must be a really good guy then.”

“Eh, I wouldn’t go that far…” teased him Vegas.

Pete made an indignant noise and pinched the other’s stomach, careful to avoid the bullet wounds scars.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“Who knows…” said Pete nonchalantly, moving on to Vegas’ ankles.

“Today’s another water aerobics day, right?” asked Vegas.

“Yep.”

“Good.” A mischievous smile flashed across Vegas’ face.

Pete knew all too well what that grin meant. He immediately warned, “If you’re thinking of splashing water on me again—" he didn’t finish the sentence, interrupted by his phone ringing. He cast a look back at Vegas from the top of his shoulder, while he went looking for the annoying source of the sound coming from the other side of the room, saying, “This conversation in not over.” Pete found the phone stuck between the armrest and the stuffed seat of the armchair. He glanced at the screen for a moment and picked up the call. “Shouldn’t you be at school right now?”

“Hey P’Pete! No, there was a leakage from the ceiling so class got dismissed earlier today.”

“Oh, nice. Vegas is about to go do physiotherapy. You can join us at the pool.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m on my way to the safehouse right now. The carpenter is coming to fix the bathroom, so that Bro will be able to use it without problems. I was calling precisely to let you know that I probably won’t be able to make it today.”

“Ah, I see. Never mind then. You go do your thing. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you. Give that scoundrel a good squeeze on my behalf. Bye.”

Pete disconnected the call and put the phone on the table after checking the time.

“Was that Macau?”

“Yes. He finished school early today, but he has to take care of something, so he won’t be visiting,” Pete vaguely replied.

“Where is he going?”

Pete seemed to hesitate for the briefest of instants, eventually answering, “The carpenter is fixing the bathroom at the safehouse.”

As soon as the words left Pete’s lips, every trace of joy left Vegas’ face and he just said, “I see.” He the grabbed his phone from the bedside table and stated, “It’s almost time. Better get ready.” He sat up and lowered the bed rail, reaching for his wheelchair as he pushed the button to lower the mattress.

It was an obvious dodge. There was still plenty of time before his appointment. Pete didn’t know how to approach this without furthering upsetting Vegas. He set for a casual tone. “Vegas.”

No answer. Vegas just locked the breaks of the wheelchair and positioned the transfer board at the side of the bed.

“Vegas,” a bit louder, while the other slid across the board and settled in his wheelchair.

“Yes?” Vegas finally answered, grabbing the swimming trunks from the drawer and moving towards the bathroom.

“Is everything okay?”

Vegas didn’t spare a look in Pete’s direction, his tone infuriatingly indifferent, “Why wouldn’t it be?” He just gripped the handle, starting to slide the door close behind himself.

Pete abruptly blocked it with his hand. “Why are you suddenly being like this?” He was getting a little exasperated by the other’s cold demeanor.

“I don’t know what you mean, Pete,” Vegas said in a plain voice, his face now apparently serene. His acting had really improved lately. “Now let me get changed.” Vegas eyed Pete’s hand still gripping at the door.

“I can help you,” said Pete in an attempt to keep Vegas from distancing himself even more.

“There’s no need. I can perfectly do it by myself.” After that, Vegas shut the door with force and Pete was left contemplating the aqua green Formica panel.

Pete couldn’t understand why mentioning the safehouse would spur such reaction from Vegas. Of course, there were lots of painful memories linked to that place. However, if anyone, Pete should be the one avoiding it at all costs. He was the one who had been tortured.

Even so, watching Vegas almost bleed to death by the pool had really put in prospective all that suffering. He couldn’t betray his own feelings anymore. Pete loved Vegas. He loved him, despite all the pain Vegas had caused him in the past. That’s why Pete had worked really hard to overcome the trauma of what had happened between them at the safehouse, when he was still regarded as a mere prisoner and Vegas had yet to show his vulnerable side. He knew he was probably just halfway through that process and that maybe he would never be completely over it, but time had proved to be his ally. Slowly, in Pete’s mind, the beatings and torture that had taken place at the safehouse were eventually overshadowed by the memory of their first lovemaking. The traumatizing memories were not forgotten, but it was no longer the first thing that came up to Pete’s mind when he thought of that place. When he had suggested the safehouse, he had done it with the intent of going back to the roots of their love, however twisted it may be, and from there build their own future, creating new memories together. He would like to think Vegas shared the same intent.

Pete began pacing in front of the closed door, passing a hand through his hair. He needed to confront Vegas about this. Maybe he was getting it all wrong. Maybe Vegas was just upset because he and Macau had made the decision about their future residence without consulting him first, even though they couldn’t have done otherwise, considering Vegas was still in a coma at the time.

As Pete was scrambling his thoughts in search of a plausible explanation for the other’s behavior, the bathroom door slid open and Vegas came out wearing a blue bathrobe over his trunks, belt tied at his waist, the fabric crumpled behind his back since he hadn’t bothered to slide it entirely under his butt, though the front of his legs was mostly covered.

“Let’s go, we’re going to be late,” he said as he picked up his cellphone and towel and headed out of the room.

“Vegas, wait! We were having a conversation—”

“Don’t worry, Pete, I’m not going to splash you this time…”

“I wasn’t referring to that,” Pete was half-walking half-running after Vegas. “Before, when I mentioned the safehouse…”

Vegas had stopped in front of the elevator, vehemently pushing the call button. For once, the doors slid open almost immediately, revealing several pairs of eyes watching them as they waited for the new passengers to get in. Pete had to put on standby what he was about to say. Vegas swiftly got in.

This, too, was another dodge. Vegas usually avoided crowded spaces. He’d rather wait for the next elevator, risking of running late, than get in one full of people who would likely be staring at him. The descent took less than a minute, with Pete nervously eyeing Vegas every two seconds, trying to figure out what could possibly go on in his mind. Vegas, on the other hand, just stared blankly at the closed doors until they slid open once again. He immediately got out of the elevator. A couple of people followed them on the same floor, so Pete had to wait a bit longer before resuming his speech.

They had now reached the area with the 25 meters swimming pool, where a few patients were exercising under the careful watch of their instructors, but Vegas went past it as usual and turned towards the adjacent room, where a private, smaller pool was reserved to his water aerobics therapy.

Vegas’ shoulders imperceptibly slump down as he realized they were alone in the room. The physiotherapist had yet to arrive. He looked at the time on his phone. Shit. They were early.

Pete’s heart, on the other hand, jumped in relief as he scanned the room in search of another person and found no one at all. This was his chance.

Only half the lights were turned on, creating a faint, azure glow, to which contributed also the reflected sparkle of water on the walls. The room would be totally immersed in silence, if it weren’t for the faint sounds of other people’s activities coming from the other side of the wall.

Pete fixed his gaze on Vegas, who shrugged out of his bathrobe, climbed down the wheelchair and sat by the side of the pool, legs soaked in the water up to his knees, arms keeping him balanced as he slightly leaned backwards, his head hung low and his hair falling down hiding part of his face.

Pete had forgotten to take off his shoes before entering, his steps resonating in the empty space as he approached the other man from the side.

“Vegas,” he said in a firm voice, then more softly, “can we please talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“I don’t think so. What’s wrong? If you don’t tell me I don’t know how to help you.”

Vegas exhaled, rising his head to look at the ceiling, eyes closed though. He then pushed himself forward, letting his body sink into the water.

Pete was not worried, since floating in the water was the first thing Vegas had relearned how to do in his physiotherapy sessions at the pool. What made his heart tremble was the invisible wall the other was relentlessly rising between them.

As soon as Vegas resurfaced, he let his head fall back, allowing the water to support the rest of his body as he moved his arms in small circles to maintain his position. He gave no indication he intended to follow through with their conversation.

“I thought we were done with this whole ‘pushing each other away’ thing,” said Pete, gesturing alternately between them, disappointment clear in his voice.

“It’s really nothing, Pete. Let it go.” Vegas’ heart clenched hearing the other’s tone.

“Why?” Pete was trying his best not to let anger get the best of him, but to no avail. He snapped, “Why are you always like this whenever something bothers you? Do you think it will make you stronger, keeping everything inside? Because it won’t. You’ll only end up suffering more.”

“I just need a moment to myself, that’s all.”

“It won’t change anything, because it will always be just you and your problems.” Pete paused for a second, taking a deep breath to calm down, then continued, “I know it’s difficult for you, but you need to let people in, Vegas.”

“To what end?”

“So they can help you. You’re obviously hurting.”

“They would just end up hurting as well.”

“That might happen sometimes, it’s part of the communicating process. Also do you think your silence is not hurting me right now?” concluded Pete.

Vegas shot his head in Pete’s direction, regret written all over his face, then lowered his gaze pursing his lips. Eventually, he muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Pete came crouching by the pool, just a couple of feet away from Vegas. “Don’t you trust me?” he asked.

Vegas did not answer. He looked uncertain, his eyes darting left and right as if in search of an answer. Or maybe in order to avoid giving one. Pete felt his stomach drop, his eyes widened with shock. After all they had been through together, Vegas still didn’t trust him. He might have stopped short of saying that, but Pete didn’t know what else to read in Vegas’ silence. It was a hard hit to take in.

Pete clenched his fists. “I see.”

He rose to his feet. If that were the case, there was no point in continuing this conversation. He turned around and walked towards the door.

Suddenly, he heard Vegas shout, “Wait! Don’t go!”

Rather than the order itself, it was the sheer panic in Vegas’ voice that stopped Pete short in his tracks. He slowly turned around. Vegas was holding on to the side of the pool, his hands uselessly grabbing at the smooth surface as he tried to push himself out of the water. Usually that would be no impossible feat for him, but his shaking hands and frantic movements rendered his attempt ineffective, lacking the necessary coordination. Unable to get out, he just rested his forehead on the back of his hands, still grabbing at the side of the pool.

“Please, don’t leave, Pete,” It was barely more than a whisper, but it reached Pete’s ears with the same intensity of an explosion.

He had watched as Vegas struggled to haul himself up, feeling his heart break into a thousand pieces and pierce his own chest, a tingling sensation spreading all over his limbs. He stood motionless, his thoughts in complete disarray, while Vegas continued, “It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s just—” a shaking exhale, “I’m scared,” he blurted out.

“Of what?” asked Pete, his voice soft as he managed to push down the knot in his throat, taking a silent step forward.

“Losing you,” Vegas was still not looking at him, his voice trembling. “Whenever you mention the safehouse, I keep thinking about all the horrible things I did to you. I hurt you so bad, Pete. I’m a monster. I’ve always been. And I’m scared once you realize it… you’ll leave me for good.”

“You think I don’t remember what you did to me?” Pete kept approaching the other’s shivering figure. “After I returned to the Main family, I couldn’t sleep for days because of the nightmares. I barely could eat. I’m not denying the consequences of your actions, far from it. But I decided to move on. I’m not leaving you, Vegas.”

“You say that now, but what about when you’re actually there, in that same room?” Vegas’ right hand clenched into a fist, his body taut as he heard the gentle rippling of water by his side. Pete’s slender body delicately slipped into the pool with him.

Pete pressed the palm of his hand between Vegas’ tense shoulder-blades, voice soothing as he murmured, “I forgave you. Don’t you think it’s time you forgave yourself as well?”

Vegas ground his forehead against his hands. “I don’t know how.”

Pete’s hand slid form Vegas’ back to his nape, fingers gently stroking his wet hair. “Stop ruminating on the past and show yourself the same compassion you’d show me.”

Vegas finally turned his head to look at Pete. His eyes were red, tears indistinguishable from the droplets of water glistening all over his face. “To me, you’re the most important person in the world,” said Vegas, his face a span away from Pete’s.

“I know. That’s why I’m telling you this.” Pete was inching closer at an achingly slow speed. He cradled Vegas’ nape, his hold gentle but firm at the same time. They were breathing the same air, foreheads pressed together, eyes closed.

This time, Pete wanted Vegas to be the one making the first step, taking what was his. A few more seconds passed, their breaths still mingled, then Vegas delicately pressed his lips against Pete’s, his hand resting on the side of Pete’s face, cupping his cheek.

The kiss was slow and tentative at first, nothing more than a taste of each other’s lips. But it soon turned into a more heated exchange, as Pete’s mouth came open, giving access to the other. Vegas savored Pete’s taste in his mouth, a possessive instinct urging him to slide his hand down the other’s throat and bite down at his lower lip. Pete barely stifled a moan, heat pooling at the pit of his stomach as he began to feel dizzy at the intensity of his own emotions.

With a heroic exercise of self-restrain, he pulled back, placing a hand on top of Vegas’ chest, feeling it equally rising and falling in rapid succession.

“You okay?” asked Vegas apprehensively.

“Yeah… It’s just…Not here.”

Vegas nodded and the two just held each other in a tight hug.

Pete was really glad he had misunderstood Vegas’ silence before. He knew due to his upbringing, Vegas wouldn’t be prone to share with others what he was feeling. But trust was something indispensable if they wanted to make things work. And Vegas had made the first step, entrusting his vulnerability to Pete.

After a while, they got out of the pool, Pete dripping buckets of water from his drenched clothes. He looked down at himself and said, “I should probably go get changed.” He squeezed the hem of his shirt, the cracking sound of water splashing against the floor reverberated into the room.

“The physiotherapist is officially late. I’m coming with you.”

Pete didn’t object and they both exited the room and headed towards the elevators, Vegas wrapped in his bathrobe and Pete dripping water every step of the way, Vegas’ towel hanging uselessly around his shoulders.

People kept staring at him as they approached Vegas’ room. One of the cleaning staff openly glared at him as if she wanted to bore a hole in his chest and set his dripping clothes on fire. Pete just gave her an apologetic smile and proceeded alongside Vegas. When they reached the room, a nurse called them from the opposite end of the corridor.

“Khun Vegas, Khun Pete,” she greeted them, “I came earlier to inform you that today’s appointment has been postponed to after lunch, at 3 pm, but I couldn’t find you in your room.” She gave a speculative look at Pete’s clothes. “I suppose you had already left for the swimming pool.”

“Yes, indeed.” Vegas bit back a smile looking at how flustered Pete was, then replied, “Thank you for letting us know.”

The nurse greeted them and left.

Back in the room, Vegas insisted on Pete taking a shower first. He could definitely wait considering he had already dried himself up with his bathrobe. Pete, on the other hand, had spent a good fifteen minutes walking in the air-conditioned corridors of the hospital, drenched from head to toe. He needed a hot shower more than Vegas did. As the latter searched through his cabinet for a new set of clothes, he found a pair of black trousers, boxers, white socks and a light blue shirt and thought they might do. Hearing the water running, Vegas slid the bathroom door ajar to leave the clothes on the nearby stool he usually made use of while showering, but his gaze got stuck on the tantalizing picture presenting itself in front of his eyes.

Though his shape was partly concealed by the steam and droplets of water, the light shade of Pete’s complexion was clearly transmitted through the glassy shower partition, his back turned to the bathroom door. He was in the process of soaping himself, white stripes and patches of foam covering his skin as he slid his hands across his body. He cocked his head to the side as he rubbed the back of his neck, his other hand rubbing somewhere at the top of his chest where Vegas couldn’t see it.

Vegas was gaping at the scene. He hadn’t seen Pete naked since that fateful day at the safehouse. His heart rate started spiking. As he lowered his gaze though, he couldn’t see any change whatsoever in what lay underneath his swimming trunks.

Vegas bit his lip, cast one last glance towards the shower and closed the door again.

The doctor had warned him about this, saying he could probably still get a ‘reflexogenic erection’, as he had called it, but when it came to solicit a response through sights, smells, thoughts and so on, there was nothing to be done. Even though his brain got exited in the heat of the moment, it was no longer able to transmit such excitement down his spine to his member.

Despite the fact he had been warned, Vegas still felt somehow blindsided by such irrefutable proof of his sexual dysfunction. He and Pete had been considerably chaste since the day he woke up from his coma, never engaging in anything more than a few languid kisses, often lying half-asleep on the bed, or occasional pecks and caresses when neither Macau nor the nurses and doctors were looking. It was not calculated. They simply had never really found themselves in circumstances that would light a flare of arousal dismissible only via a sexual act. Thus, since looking at Pete showering and their earlier interaction at the pool were the first proper chances Vegas had had to experience the magnitude of his deficit, he pondered about what it may imply in regards of their future life together.

He was confident he could still satisfy Pete, even though maybe not in the same way as before. However, when it came down to his own satisfaction, Vegas had no idea how they could solve the issue. Sexuality had always played a big role in his life, even if rarely in a positive, let alone satisfying way. It was part of who he was, so the idea of not being able to perform such act anymore left him with an impending sense of loss and displacement. It would definitely come up sooner or later with Pete.

After thinking it over for a while, he decided honesty was the best policy, especially in light of their earlier talk by the pool.

When Pete got out of the bathroom, he was, unsurprisingly, fully dressed and he was wiping a towel through his jet-black hair, walking barefoot.

“All yours,” he said, gesturing at the bathroom.

Vegas gave him a quick smile, then watched as Pete grabbed his phone and checked for any new messages or calls. Evidently finding none, he dropped the phone back on the armchair and noticed Vegas was still staring at him with penetrating eyes.

“Do you want me to help you?” he immediately offered.

“No. I was just thinking about…” he trailed off, again biting his lip. He really didn’t know how to put this. “Before, when we were at the pool…Were you okay with what we were doing?”

Pete’s eyes lit up in understanding. “Yes, of course, Vegas. I didn’t mean to… If you felt like I was rejecting you, that’s not it. I was just worried someone might come in.”

“Alright. But were you by any chance…aroused?”

Pete did a double-take before realizing Vegas couldn’t possibly have felt his erection pressed between them while they were hugging each other in the water. He was genuinely asking.

“Well, yes. Even though it didn’t last long because, you know, the cold.”

Vegas slowly nodded at his words, evidently wanting to say more.

Pete felt pride swelling up in his chest alongside worry, as he could feel Vegas was struggling to communicate something important, proving with his actions that his intention to open up to Pete had been authentic.

Pete didn’t pressure him, giving him the time to find the right words.

Eventually, Vegas said, “I know for certain now that I won’t be able to have such reaction for you in the future.”

Pete simply asked, “Have you tried?”

“No. Yes. I mean, at the pool and just now, I had no reaction.”

“Just now?” Pete quirked an eyebrow.

Vegas blushed but didn’t look away, the change in color stunning in Pete’s eyes. “I saw you showering when I brought you your clothes.”

Pete paused for a second, then said in a tentative tone, “You could’ve joined me.”

Vegas sighed. “I’m telling you I can’t have an erection. I know the doctor said I could technically have one per reflex with the proper stimulation, but it probably wouldn’t last more than a minute. And before you say anything, I also know very well there are other ways in which I can satisfy you. I still have some self-confidence left, you know. Let alone oral sex, I have an entire room full of things that would have you screaming all night long. For you, we could always use a dildo and you probably wouldn’t even know the difference—"

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” retorted Pete.

Vegas just silently looked at the other for a moment, eventually adding, “I guess what I’m trying to say is… What about me?”

It sounded egotistical even to his ears, but it really couldn’t be helped.

Pete came crouching in front of Vegas. “Is this about what you asked the doctor? About the possibility of…”

“Yes. How is that supposed to happen now?”

Pete averted his eyes, pondering the question for a minute, a small crease forming between his eyebrows. Eventually, he replied, “I don’t know. But didn’t the doctor say we had figure it out on our own?” His hand came to rest gently on Vegas’. “I’m all for trying. What about you?”

Vegas squeezed Pete’s hand, bringing it to his lips as he placed a light kiss on his knuckles. “I really want that, too.”

“You know, there are many parts of your body that can feel good and provide a pleasant response. We could always tell the personnel not to disturb us and lock the door…” suggested Pete with an encouraging smile.

“I appreciate that, Pete. I really do. But I honestly don’t feel like trying that here. Not at the hospital.” He paused for a moment, looking at their intertwined hands, then back up at Pete. “This thing, I don’t want it to be like another one of those exercises I have to complete or a standard I have to reach. First, I want us to get home, if that’s okay with you.”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” reassured him Pete as he caressed his cheek. “You set the pace, I’ll follow.”

Vegas leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispered.

***

After what had transpired from their conversation by the pool, Pete had been even more resolute in his decision to go live at the safehouse. He didn’t want Vegas to be haunted for the rest of his life by the memory of what happened there. That’s why during the last week of Vegas’ stay at the hospital, Pete had poured his heart and soul in the planning of the other’s discharge and the logistics for his safe trip home.

Together with Macau, he had also supervised the last renovations their new house underwent in order to be comfortably accessible for Vegas and fit to his needs. Such changes included the dismantlement of the external wooden steps in favor of a ramp, the installation of an indoor elevator which granted access to the second floor and the setting up of a small area dedicated to Vegas’ physical activity, consisting of several sets of weights, rubber bands, a shoulder press machine, a punching bag and even a gym ball, upon Macau’s insisting. Pete highly suspected the last item was just for the younger sibling’s enjoyment and not actually for Vegas, though Macau didn’t want to admit it.

In addition to that, there was also the matter of bathrooms: Vegas had reiterated there was no need to renovate all the bathrooms the safehouse was equipped with, but both Pete and Macau had insisted that every part of their new home needed to be at hand for Vegas, so also the bathroom in Macau’s room had been rearranged, though eventually not the other ones, since Vegas had drawn the line at the guest rooms. Pete had seen to it that the cabinet under the sink in their bathroom was fully stacked with Vegas’ TAI and ISC kit supplies, while his meds would be kept in a drawer of their bedstand.

Everything of immediate and frequent use in the kitchen had been moved to the lower cabinets, saving the top ones for dining sets, expensive cutlery and a myriad of different glasses for any imaginable type of liquor that would likely never be used. Regarding the sleeping arrangements, Pete and Vegas would be sharing the master bedroom, while Macau had already taken possession of one of the rooms on the other side of the house, which Pete thought might turn out to be quite convenient later on.

All the supplies stored in Vegas’ secret studio at the Minor family mansion had been relocated in their current bedroom, still closed in a box, several boxes actually. Vegas had asked Pete to personally take care of the matter, not wanting his private collection to fall in the wrong hands, especially in case said hands were his little brother’s. Another thing Pete had personally taken care of and also one of the last, was the room in which Vegas had imprisoned him. All the pieces of furniture inside as well as the blood-stained carpet had been removed and thrown away. The only things Pete had eventually kept were Vegas’ esoteric books and, of course, the late hedgehog’s empty cage. That had concluded the work of renovation.

Overall, both Pete and Macau were extremely satisfied with the results, the latter in particular, probably due to the fact that all expenses had been covered by Korn, so they didn’t need to worry about any bills.

On the day of Vegas’ discharge from the hospital, Pete had already taken care of everything, his efficiency a clear testament of his days spent working as a bodyguard. Before Vegas had even the chance to finish his breakfast, his luggage had already been packed and put in the trunk of the car. The only thing left to do was for him to finish his meal and sign the discharge documents.

As Vegas was closing the folder containing the signed papers, Macau joined them in the hospital room, tired of waiting for them in the car. “What’s taking you so long, Bro? We’re all waiting for you here, you know.” He could barely contain his excitement upon his older brother’s long-desired return home.

Vegas rolled his eyes and handed him the folder, his voice full of amusement, “Here. All done, see? Now go find the doctor and deliver him this, while I finish getting dressed.”

Macau almost ran out of the room, his footsteps resonating in the empty corridor.

“He’s been over the moon all week, you know,” said Pete as he helped Vegas lacing his shoes.

“Yeah, it was kind of hard to miss,” chuckled Vegas.

“Porsche as well told me to congratulate you on your return home.”

“You can thank him on my behalf” said Vegas in a neutral tone.

“Already done.”

Vegas smirked. Although he and Porsche hadn’t really spoken since the fight on the day of Vegas’ awakening, the latter’s animosity had gradually subsided, his mind occupied with more pressing matters. In the end, he had essentially established an unofficial truce with the new head of the Minor family, to which had lately contributed also Macau’s friendship with Porsche’s younger brother, Chay, who seemed a really nice kid, although a bit naive at times.

Vegas was glad Macau had managed to make a new friend outside of his usual circle of acquaintances. He didn’t want him to follow his footsteps in the way he grew up, with no actual friends, surrounded by people who either feared him or despised him or, even worse, pitied him. Anyways, considering how Macau had bonded with some of his classmates and more recently the younger Kittisawat sibling, Vegas could almost undoubtedly rest assured that such fate would not concern his little brother, that alone being a huge weight pulled off from his chest.

“All set?” asked Pete, interrupting Vegas’ train of thoughts.

Vegas hummed and replied, “Let’s go before that little pest sets the car on fire.”

They took the elevator and reached the hospital hallway, Pete steadily pushing Vegas’ wheelchair.

“You know, I can perfectly go by myself,” said Vegas casting a brief look over his shoulder in Pete’s direction.

“I know. Just let me spoil you for today.”

They reached the car and after helping Vegas adjust in the passenger seat, Pete put the wheelchair in the back of the car and circled back to the front to take the wheel. During almost the entire way home, Macau never shut up for a second, first talking about how he took care of all the designs for the renovations and then blabbering for almost twenty minutes straight about his friend Chay, describing the exact shade of his new hair color and talking about the songs he composed and how talented he was. It got to a point where Vegas couldn’t take anymore of that delirious chatter, lest he’d go insane, so he jokingly said, “Are you sure you guys are not dating?”

Macau’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink as he sputtered, “What the hell are you talking about, we’re just friends! Also, he’s super into our cousin Kim, although he keeps denying it.”

Vegas took a mental note of Macau’s flustered reaction, before asking, “Didn’t they break up like, months ago? How can you be so sure he still likes him?”

“I just know,” mumbled Macau, not exactly thrilled about it. He remained quiet for the rest of the drive, such as the last five minutes.

Pete parked the car at the end of the driveway, which stopped just a few meters away from the ramp at the main entrance of the villa. Macau bolted out of the car and retrieved the bag in the trunk as Pete took out the wheelchair and brought it to Vegas, helping him with the transfer. Once he was settled, Vegas circled the car and stopped just a few inches from the ramp, taking a moment to give a proper look around. After months spent confined in the hospital, he almost couldn’t believe he was finally here, at the doorway of his new residence.

“What do you think?” asked his brother, clearly pleased with his work.

Vegas looked at the ramp in front of him. It was made out of the same wood used for the rest of the house and it ran parallel to the front of the house. In that way, by taking more space in length without though protruding too much towards the lawn, it could ease the slope leading up to the porch. A carved handrail improved its design both in elegance and practicality. Vegas could see why Macau sounded so pleased with himself.

“It’s really beautiful,” he replied after a while.

Macau beamed with joy.

Vegas knew in other people’s eyes it might seem just a regular ramp, but the thought and meaning that went into its building conferred it a beauty Vegas couldn’t shy away from complimenting.

“Shall we?” Pete gestured towards the entrance.

The interior wasn’t that different from before, apart from the elevator added at the corner of the living-room. It was very discrete, not taking up too much space, large enough to fit two people at the same time, one of which being Vegas in his wheelchair.

The house tour proceeded through the other rearranged parts of the house, such as the kitchen and the gym area, moving then up to the second floor, where Vegas finally had the chance to admire the renovated bathroom connected to their bedroom.

“Seriously? A whirlpool shower and a jacuzzi?” Vegas turned to Macau. “You really ripped him off, uh?”

The boy grinned as Vegas gave him a proud smile, ruffling the former’s hair. Macau left Vegas’ bag by the closet in the master bedroom and they returned to the living-room.

The rest of the morning was spent taking a tour of the garden surrounding the villa and just chilling at home. At one point, Macau received a text message from an unspecified friend and immediately headed outside saying he wouldn’t be home for lunch. Vegas strongly suspected that the mysterious friend was in fact Chay and found himself smiling at the thought of his brother’s previous reaction in the car.

After lunch, the ringing of Pete’s phone interrupted Vegas’ nap on the couch.

“Pete…” Vegas pressed a pillow over his head, clearly annoyed by the sound.

“Coming!” Pete, who had just finished washing the dishes, hurried into the living-room and grabbed the phone as quick as possible.

Vegas heard the fading sound of Pete’s footsteps as he went back into the kitchen to avoid disturbing him. He didn’t bother trying to understand who that might be, too tired to pay attention to the other’s conversation. Vegas didn’t even realize he had fallen back asleep, his mind lulled into unconsciousness by Pete’s soft voice in the background. At a certain point, he felt someone gently shaking his shoulder.

“Vegas. Vegas, wake up.” Same as it had previously put him to sleep, Pete’s voice was now waking him up from his dreams.

“What?” asked Vegas in a drowsy voice as he lazily opened his eyes and fixed them on Pete’s figure crouched next to him.

“It was Porsche on the phone. He and Kinn are on their way here to—”

“The fuck!” Vegas was now perfectly awake. “Why the hell are they coming here?” He had already outstretched his hand to grab his phone and tell them not to come when Pete, guessing his intentions, took a hold of his wrist and pleaded, “Porsche said they just want to greet you and give you a present from Khun Korn. Please, just give it a chance.”

If it was true that Vegas had stipulated a sort of truce with Porsche, the same could not be said when it came to his cousin Kinn, or anyone else on the other side of the family. Still, Vegas could see in Pete’s eyes how much he wished for the situation between the two families to improve, so in the end he just sighed loudly and nodded. “Go get me a glass of water, please,” said Vegas closing his eyes and passing a hand over his face. He then sat up and reached for his wheelchair, parked right next to the couch. As he maneuvered it in front of himself and shifted his body from the sofa to the wheelchair, Pete returned from the kitchen, glass in hand.

“Thank you,” said Vegas before gulping down the water in a second.

Pete was regarding him with an apprehensive look on his face.

Vegas sighed once again. “Don’t worry, I’ll try not to throw anything at his head this time,” he said lightly shaking the empty glass in his hand.

Pete didn’t seem very convinced, but nodded anyway.

Not long after that, they heard the engine of a car coming to a stop in front of the entrance of the villa. Pete went to open the door and a few seconds later Porsche and Kinn entered the living-room, the latter holding a round object in his hands, covered by a dark cloth.

“Porsche. Khun Kinn,” Pete greeted them, smiling at Porsche and slightly bowing his head at Kinn.

“There’s no need for such formalities. You’re no longer working for our family so you can drop the ‘khun’ now,” said Kinn with a polite smile.

Before Pete could open his mouth to reply, Vegas’ spiteful voice came from the other side of the room, “He can call you whatever he wants, so don’t start giving orders in my house.”

Kinn was ready to snap back at him but Porsche immediately kicked him in the shin and said, “Speaking of which, it’s a really nice place you got here. Chay told me about all the work Macau put into it, the designs and so on… He’s really talented. By the way, is he home right now? I’d hoped to compliment him myself.”

Vegas was partially mollified by the praise directed to his brother, so he replied in a more neutral tone, “No, he’s out.”

“Ah well, never mind then. I’m sure there will be other opportunities.” Porsche concluded with a smile. He wasn’t exactly thrilled to be acting as peacemaker between Kinn and Vegas, especially since he was still suspicious of the latter, but he wanted things to get better for both Pete’s and his own boyfriend’s sake. Also, since Chay started hanging out with Macau, Porsche had noticed his little brother had been less gloomy and more prone to talk and even joke around from time to time, so he considered this a way to repay the younger Theerapanyakun’s kindness.

Porsche turned towards Pete, the two of them exchanging a conspiratorial look before the latter said, “Porsche, why don’t you prepare us one of your famous cocktails?”

“Sure, why not,” replied way too promptly the other.

“Come. I’ll show you the kitchen.”

 They left the two cousins alone, staring at each other. After a while, Kinn finally decided to break the silence, “So, how have you been lately?”

“Why bother asking, when you have spies scattered all over the hospital,” replied Vegas scornfully.

“It might surprise you the amount of privacy you were given in the past few months. And I wouldn’t call them ‘spies’, considering you were staying in our family private wing and you perfectly knew they would inform us. Anyways, you know I don’t take pleasure in meddling with other people’s business.”

“Still, that has never stopped you from doing it anyway,” pointed out Vegas in a cynical tone.

“If I have to, yes. But I told you I wouldn’t be running after you anymore, didn’t I? Not to mention business has been pretty hectic since you left, I couldn’t keep tabs on you even if I wanted to.”

A brief smirk played on Vegas’ lips before he replied, “I don’t know whether to take that as a compliment or an insult. Probably both.”

Kinn sneered, the tension in the room decreasing to a somewhat tolerable level.

“Take a seat, you look even more of an idiot standing there holding that thing.” Vegas half nodded at the dark bundle in the other’s hands. “By the way, what the hell is that? Looks heavy.”

Kinn placed the object on the nearby table as he replied, “Papa’s gift for you.” He removed the dark piece of cloth, revealing a fishbowl full of water with a little blue creature swimming inside. “It’s a plakad,” he said, taking a seat in one of the chairs.

Vegas came closer to take a better look at the skittery fish. Its tiny scales were a beautiful lapis-lazuli color, the large undulating tail was slightly ripped in one point and the fish also seemed to miss part of a small fin, but overall, it was an undoubtedly stunning specimen.

Vegas kept admiring the little creature. “It’s beautiful.”

“Papa thought there was no point in having them fight anymore.”

“Why? He thought it could no longer put up a good fight because of its injuries?”

“No, he was simply tired of watching them tearing each other apart.”

“But they’re fighting fish. Isn’t it in their own nature?”

“Actually, they’re bred to be more aggressive than what they truthfully are. In the wild, they don’t spar longer than a few minutes. They’re not that different from other fishes.”

“This is not a wild one, though. This was bred to fight.”

“I’m sure it will adapt.”

“But I don’t know how to take care of it.”

“Pete and Macau will help you. It deserves a second chance, don’t you think?”

Vegas and Kinn silently regarded each other from opposite sides of the table, their eyes leveling, fishbowl in between them. None of them spoke.

Vegas’ fingers grazed the convex surface of the bowl, his gaze dropping once again on the plakad, absorbed in his thoughts. After what felt like ages, looking back at Kinn he said, “Tell uncle Korn I say thank you.”

Kinn gave a simple nod, needing to say nothing more.

Pete and Porsche returned from the kitchen a few seconds later, with a suspiciously perfect timing. Porsche was holding a tray with four glasses of variously colored drinks, which he distributed to the others as Pete took a seat at the table as well.

“Ultramarine Killer B, for Pete,” said Porsche, serving him a blue drink with two red chili peppers on top. The contrast in color was unexpectedly pleasing to the eye.

“The soft-drink version of Amore’s Kiss, for Vegas. Pete told me alcohol doesn’t mix well with the meds you’re taking.” He handed Vegas a bright red drink, garnished with fan-shaped cut strawberries.

“Golden Lagoon for you, honey.”

Vegas cringed at the endearment, watching as Porsche slid Kinn his drink, containing an amber liquid adorned with lemon zest.

“And for me, my favorite. Il Cuore di Kinn.” Porsche winked at Kinn.

Vegas took a sip of his drink to distract himself from the couple’s exchange. Not bad, considering there was no alcohol in it.

“How’s that?” asked Porsche.

“I’ve had better. But I’ve also had worse.”

Porsche hummed skeptically at the verdict, then just shrugged an took a sip of his own drink.

Kinn and Porsche didn’t in fact stay for long. Having conveyed the message and present, there was no reason to take up more of the others’ time. After a quick tour of the house, Pete accompanied them outside, where the driver was turning the car around, while Vegas remained inside.

Pete gave Porsche’s arm a light pat, saying, “I’m glad you came. Please, bring Khun Tankhun and the others my regards.”

“Will do, don’t worry. He’ll probably give you a call one of these days. I’m just giving you the heads-up.”

Pete chuckled. “Yeah, thanks.” He looked at Kinn, his expression turned serious, “Thank you for today.”

“Take good care of him, Pete,” said Kinn, briefly looking back, in direction of the house.

Pete bowed his head in confident acknowledgement, then greeted them, “Have a safe trip back home.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep in touch as usual,” said Porsche before vanishing behind the closing door of the rear seat of the car, right next to Kinn. The vehicle departed, leaving Pete standing alone in front of the entrance of the villa. He watched as the car vanished from his eyesight and then turned around and walked back into the house.

Vegas had placed the tray with the empty glasses on his thighs and was carrying it back in the kitchen. The fishbowl was still at the center of the table, catching the light coming from the open window and casting a flickering reflection on the walls.

“That went well,” said Pete after Vegas came back from the kitchen. “What did you guys talk about?”

“As if you don’t know already…” Vegas teased him with a playful smile. Pete grinned at him as well.

“You heard anything from Macau?” asked Vegas.

“He texted when I was helping Porsche with the drinks. Said he’ll be home in a short while.”

“Okay.” Vegas turned towards the table in the living-room. The little blue fish was still swimming restlessly in the bowl. “You have any idea how to take care of that? I’ve never had a fish before, only hedgehogs.”

“Khun Tankhun had a pair of koi carps, once. Elizabeth and Sebastian. It shouldn’t be that different.”

“Had?” Vegas arched an eyebrow.

“They died after Porsche pissed in the pond.”

Vegas burst out laughing and after a few seconds Pete couldn’t stop himself from joining him. It took them quite some time to regain their composure, eyes watering. When they finally calmed down, they heard the sound of footsteps on the porch and after a few seconds Macau came in through the front door.

“Hey, what’s up,” he greeted them as he took off his shoes. “I bought some groceries for tonight’s dinner and some pork skewers as well. Here.” He handed a white plastic bag to Pete, who cast a quick glance inside before asking Macau, “How was your lunch?”

“Good, good. Also, sorry for leaving like that, but my dinner commitment got moved up. Hey! What’s that?” Macau walked towards the table and leaned down to look at the plakad inside the fishbowl. “Who’s this little guy?”

“A present from uncle Korn,” answered Vegas.

“He came here?”

“Kinn and Porsche did. We had a few drinks and then they headed back home.”

“Oh. I see. I guess I didn’t miss much, since the house is still standing and I haven’t seen any corpses outside.”

“I’m not sure you can say that, Macau. To be honest, watching Vegas and Kinn interact without trying to tear each other’s throats out was quite the sight to see,” informed him Pete.

“Damn, I wish I had been here then.” Macau grinned in amusement, subsequently turning his attention back to the plakad. “Ah, poor thing. One of its fins is almost entirely gone. How’s it called?”

“It doesn’t have a name,” answered Vegas.

“Yet,” specified Pete and then offered, “We could name it after some city, same as you two,”

“Why not Venice? The city has the exact shape of a fish, don’t you find it very fitting?” proposed Macau with an excited smile, his eyes shining as he looked at Pete and Vegas.

“Sounds good to me,” replied Vegas, “but you need to help taking care of it.”

“Of course! Tomorrow I’ll go buy its food and a proper fish-tank, this one is too small. Not to mention there’s not a single plant in here. And it needs a filter as well.”

“I can give you a lift.”

“There’s no need, P’Pete. I can take a cab.”

“You sure?”

“Hmm.” Macau gave the fishbowl a gentle stroke with the tip of his finger, never adverting his eyes from Venice’s frantic movements. “You really hate it in there, don’t you?” baby talking to the fish.

Pete and Vegas exchanged an amused look. Then Pete went into the kitchen to put away the groceries, while Vegas retrieved a book from the shelf and started reading. After a few minutes, Pete’s startled voice resounded from the kitchen.

“What-! Again?!”

Vegas snapped the book closed and immediately asked craning towards the kitchen door, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Shit!” Macau suddenly bolted out of the living-room and into the kitchen.

“Are we supposed to eat these, too?” Vegas heard Pete ask.

“Ah, sorry, I forgot about those…” his voice a mixture of mortification and embarrassment.

As Vegas peeked into the room, he barely made it on time to see his little brother hiding a small, squared package in the back pocket of his trousers and then fleeting upstairs.

Vegas looked questioningly at Pete, who just commented shaking his head, “Must be a family thing.”

***

The following morning, Macau left early to go buy the necessary items for the fish. Meanwhile Vegas, after finishing his TAI and ISC routine, went to his personal gym area to exercise a bit, while Pete was comfortably sitting on the couch watching tv. Vegas did his usual sets of dumbbell biceps curls and shoulder press and moved on to the punching bag. He didn’t know why, but he was feeling particularly charged, almost unable to stay still. After he exhausted himself enough, he asked Pete to help him with his daily legs exercises and stretching. While he was lying supine on the gym mat with Pete kneeling beside him and working on his feet, Vegas said in a delighted tone, “So…condoms, uh?”

Pete rolled his eyes with an exasperated huff, knowing exactly what Vegas was referring to. “You Theerapanyakuns should really be more careful where you put your condoms, you know.”

Vegas laughed. “Is that an attempt at a dirty joke?”

Pete hopelessly shook his head. “No. That’s just your dirty mind at work.”

“Because, you know, putting them with the food might not have been that big of a mistake,” Vegas was downright provoking Pete, who was in the middle of rotating Vegas’ feet, making small circles with his ankles. Pete paused for a second, then reprised his movements, saying nonchalantly, “If you say so. But I prefer my food unwrapped when I wanna eat it.” He wouldn’t give Vegas the satisfaction of having the upper hand. He too could play this game.

Vegas had gone really quiet. His blown pupils made his eyes appear darker than usual, his lips slightly parted in wonderment.

Pete considered the other’s reaction a small victory and with a satisfied expression, he grabbed the underside of Vegas’ right knee and lift it from the mat, pushing it towards Vegas’ torso as he stabilized his leg grabbing it by the ankle. He maintained the position for half a minute, then repeated the operation with the other leg. While lowering Vegas’ leg on the mat, Pete shifted his hand from the top of Vegas’ knee to the inner side of his thigh, slowly sliding his palm upwards. Pete’s eyes didn’t leave Vegas’ as he said, “You know, I’ve been counting the days till we got home…”

Vegas grabbed his wrist, prohibiting him from touching further up his thigh, Pete’s hand already resting in a dangerous zone. Theoretically.

“Even if you somehow get a reaction out of this, it won’t be one I can feel. You know that.”

Pete looked at Vegas’ hand wrapped around his wrist. Then, in the blink of an eye, he freed his arm and straddled Vegas. The hand that was previously stopping him was swiftly pushed on the mat over Vegas’ head and for good measure Pete did the same also with the other hand, curtailing the other’s movements.

“Then tell me what you can feel.”

Vegas pursed his lips, averting his eyes. Pete would have none of that. He tightened his grip on the other’s wrists. “Vegas. Look at me,” his voice gentle but resolute.

Vegas fixed his eyes into Pete’s, licking his lips before he spoke, “I… I’m not sure.”

“Macau isn’t home. Do you want to find out?”

Pete had no idea what he was doing to Vegas right now. The sight of him straddling his hips and the feeling of his own wrists being pushed to the ground was something entirely new for Vegas. He didn’t particularly enjoy being restricted, quite the opposite actually. But the fact that it was Pete on top of him now prevented the surge of panic from spreading within Vegas’ chest, as he laid lax on the floor.

“Was this your plan since the beginning?” asked Vegas, genuinely curious.

“No. But now that we are here, it would be stupid to waste the chance, don’t you think?”

Vegas closed his eyes and let out an enticing breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “Bedroom?”

“Yeah,” agreed Pete in an equally eager way.

Vegas was now back on his wheelchair in the middle of their bedroom, staring at Pete as he locked the door behind himself, in extreme precaution. He wasn’t sure how long it would take Macau to buy all he needed. Better safe than sorry.

The light seeping through the curtains was enough to illuminate the room and create a warm atmosphere without though blinding them in its overabundance. Pete turned around to look at Vegas, worrying his lip. Before, he had probably given the impression of knowing what he was doing, but truth be told, he had no idea what was the best way to proceed with this. Eventually, he opted for following his instinct and just go from there and see what happened. Step by step he closed the distance between himself and Vegas, crouching in front of the other.

Vegas was bearing a hole into his soul with the way he was currently staring at him, his eyes dark with desire, his accelerated pulse evident at his throat. He grasped Pete’s chin between his index and thumb, tilting his head upwards and slightly pulling towards himself. Pete followed without hesitation until the space between their faces was reduced to a bare inch. Vegas’ gaze moved from Pete’s impossibly dark eyes to his nose and eventually down to his mouth. His lips were slightly parted, rhythmically releasing a puff of air that collided directly with Vegas’ own. The sudden movement of Pete’s tongue over his lips awakened a predatory instinct in Vegas, who closed the distance between them capturing Pete’s lips in his own, chasing the glistening prey that had already retreated in the safety of its lair. It was up to Vegas luring it back out. He sucked at Pete’s lower lip, grazing his teeth over the plump flesh and eventually biting down like he always used to do. The gasp Pete let out was Vegas’ opening, his tongue exploring the other’s mouth, finding little to no resistance.

Pete’s hands came up to Vegas’ nape, his fingers sliding up through the slick black hair, fisting it in an attempt to ground himself and at the same time give better access to the other. Vegas’ palms were possessively stroking Pete’s cheeks, his fingers at times playing with his lover’s ears.

Pete felt the temperature rising, his clothes an obstacle to his pleasure, other than a restricting nuisance at his crotch. As he pulled back to catch his breath and get rid of the inconvenience, he suddenly remembered Vegas’ reluctant confession about having watched him in the shower at the hospital. As he thought of it, he realized Vegas had never shied away from looking at every part, every crevice of Pete’s body, also during their first time at the safehouse. Pete knew for sure that watching him was something Vegas enjoyed doing quite a lot, so he discarded the idea of getting naked as soon as possible in favor of taking things slower, putting on a show.

Pete got up to his feet and before Vegas could protest, he pushed the wheelchair backwards until it hit the end of the bed, then whispering, “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable?” his eyes drifting over Vegas’ shoulder to the mattress behind him for the briefest of seconds.

Vegas turned the wheelchair just enough to position the transfer board at the end of the bed, lowering his armrest and shifting his body onto the mattress in a sitting position, his legs pending from the edge of the bed. He looked as Pete grabbed the hem of his shirt and slowly, agonizingly slowly, pulled off the piece of garment.

His chest was marked with the scars Vegas had given him. It was actually the first time Vegas was able to see them so clearly. They had faded into thin white lines, not that evident anymore, but also impossible to miss.

Vegas outstretched his right hand as the other kept him balanced on the bed and Pete came closer taking it in his own. He put one knee on each side of Vegas’ thighs, straddling his lap. Vegas’ hand that was holding Pete’s circled around the other’s waist to rest on the small of his back, their fingers still intertwined, so that Pete had now one arm trapped behind himself. Vegas’ mouth grazed each and every one of Pete’s scars in a soothing caress as he worshipped lasciviously his body.

Pete was now panting, his chest flushed, the same as his cheeks. “Vegas…” he gasped.

He didn’t want to lose himself to the pleasure so soon, not when he wanted to find a way to please Vegas just as much. Pete moved their clasped hands to Vegas’ chest, pushing gently. The other’s back hit the mattress and Pete helped him scoot a little higher up the bed, Vegas’ body still fully clothed under him.

Pete placed his hands on top of Vegas’ shoulders, sliding them down his torso as he lowered himself more and more, hovering on the other, his eyes almost shutting close, but not quite, still drowning in Vegas’ dark pools. The tips of his fingers reached the hem of the shirt and slid underneath, caressing their way back up Vegas’ abdomen, feeling the scars and dragging along the fabric in their path. Proceeding past the arch of Vegas’ ribs, Pete’s fingers encountered two symmetrical protrusions. He gently massaged them with the pads of his thumbs, the same way his nose was now brushing against Vegas’ in a tender motion, their lips less than an inch apart.

“Can you feel this?”

Vegas’ stifled moan was captured in a kiss as soon as it left his mouth, his heart hammering in his chest at a vexing rate. Vegas had never indulged in much foreplay in his previous sexual encounters and definitely not of the tender kind. Sex had always been practical and ruthlessly straight to the point, just another way to blow off some steam. But this was different. He could feel his body respond to Pete’s touch in a way he wouldn’t have imagined. Although his member was undoubtedly still lying soft in between his legs, his chest felt like catching fire, especially where Pete was continuing to pleasure him, only now he was using his mouth. The slick contact reminded Vegas of their first time in this same house, when he had slowly slipped into Pete with one fluid motion.

Pete bit down at his nipple and Vegas pulled his hair in a painfully tight grip as the both of them let out a hearty gasp. Pete finally got rid of Vegas’ shirt, sending it flying over the side of the bed.

Vegas pulled Pete back down in a demanding gesture.

“Touch me,” his voice sounding more like a plea than an actual command.

“You mean…”

“Yes.”

“But… you said…”

“I don’t care. Please, just try,” the desperation in his tone spurring Pete to comply.

Pete’s hand slipped inside Vegas’ shorts and boxers, holding the other in a firm grip.

“Move.”

Vegas could see the rhythmic shift and tension of Pete’s forearm, but that was about the extent of all he could do. See. He let out a frustrated growl.

“Can you feel something?” Pete misinterpreted his reaction.

Vegas vigorously shook his head in denial, his feeling of impotence and frustration threatening to cast a dark shadow on the otherwise beautiful moment. He felt his eyes pricking, something wet gathering at their corners to then slip out and slide down the side of his face.

“Baby, no. I’m here.” Pete’s hands came cradling his face, his thumbs caressing his cheeks.

Vegas didn’t know how the situation could possibly be solved. He had really taken pleasure in Pete’s touch up to that point, but it was just like being invited to an opulent banquet and not being able to touch a single thing, or worse, getting a taste of it and being forced to spit it out immediately after. Vegas had often enjoyed this kind of games, where the delay was part of the entertainment. But in those cases, he was the one in control, whereas now he didn’t even have hopes of reaching a climax ever again. What should have been a pleasure was starting to feel more and more like torture. Vegas didn’t want this.

“Vegas!” Pete’s shout brought him back to his present condition. Pete’s eyes were searching his face. “Do you trust me?” Pete looked at him with a reassuring warmth in his eyes.

“Yes.”

“I want to try something, okay? Tell me if you feel anything at all or if you want me to stop altogether,” a determined expression set on his face.

“Okay.” Vegas nodded in agreement.

“Close your eyes,” whispered Pete.

Vegas did as instructed and he concentrated on his own breathing to calm the anxiousness deriving from being deprived of more of his senses.

He could hear Pete moving on the bed and opening one of the nightstand drawers, rummaging inside. After a short while, the dip of the mattress at the side of his head and flanks indicated Pete was back on top of him, straddling his hips. Vegas felt him move around some more and judging by the way his own torso budged and the phantom of feeling left in his legs, he imagined Pete was likely maneuvering the lower part of his body in a certain position. A few seconds passed in silence and Vegas felt he would probably need to go to the bathroom, which was impossible since he had already evacuated earlier in the morning. Suddenly, the feeling changed and a shock of pleasure reverberated from his insides. Vegas gasped loudly.

“Can you feel it?” Pete’s voice eager with desire to please.

Vegas still didn’t open his eyes.

“Do that again.”

Another wave of pleasure irradiated from the same spot.

“I feel it!”

Vegas’ eyes snapped open. Pete was straddling his lap, one arm reaching behind them, between Vegas’ parted and now naked legs, sprawled on the bed. A bottle of lube laid on the side of the mattress.

Vegas could imagine what Pete’s experiment was.

“Is this okay?” asked Pete, worry peeking from his eyes.

Vegas slowly smiled. “Yes. More than okay.”

Apprehension gradually vanished from Pete’s face, now smiling back at Vegas.

“Then, can we continue from where we left off?”

Vegas nodded, his hands surging to cradle Pete’s nape, eventually pulling him down for a deep kiss.

The sensation in his lower belly resumed, similar to the feeling of excitement he previously used to experience during sex, although not quite the same.

Pete was bracing himself next to Vegas’ head using his left forearm, while the other hand was working magic between the latter’s legs. Their kiss was heated, Vegas’ hands leaving Pete’s nape in favor of the front of his neck and the sweat-slick planes of his chest. The hand wrapped around Pete’s throat reflexively tightened its grip after a particularly intense vibration in the pit of Vegas’ stomach, coaxing a loud moan out of the other.

The hand Pete was using to support his body over his lover’s abandoned its position to slide down across Vegas’ body, fingers once again wrapping around his member. Pete rested his forehead on the mattress, right next to the other’s head, turning his face to the side so he could suck and nibble at his lover’s earlobe, which rewarded him with another throaty moan escaping Vegas’ lips and reverberating through their colliding chests. Vegas’ fingernails scraped over Pete’s back, leaving red trails that, though not bleeding, would certainly be noticeable even after a couple of days.

“Vegas…” Pete was panting in his ear, “I think you’re hard now…”

Though he couldn’t feel it, Vegas thought it might be the case after Pete’s incessant stroking. It was the same reflexogenic erection he would get sometimes while showering or during his ISC routine. In the last few weeks spent at the hospital the doctor had prescribed him a medication that would help with this specific issue, thus increasing his chances of getting a full erection if properly stimulated.

“May I try? Please?” begged Pete.

“You can do whatever you want, baby. I just don’t know if it’ll last…”

“I have something that might help.” Pete leaned once again towards the bedstand and retrieved a small object from the drawer.

“What’s that?” asked Vegas.

“A restriction band.”

“You mean like a cock ring? I have plenty in the boxes you brought here. No need to buy another one.”

“Those are made of metal. I don’t want you to get bruised. You’re on blood thinners, remember?”

“Yes, Doctor Pete.”

Pete grinned, then proceeded to tighten the band around the base of Vegas’ cock. He quickly got rid of his shorts and underwear and retrieved the bottle of lube by their side.

Vegas snatched it from his hands. “Let me,” he whispered in a suave voice. He uncapped the bottle and squeezed a generous amount on his fingers. Vegas slowly coaxed him open, his movements enticing fractured whimpers from Pete’s mouth. Pete was leisurely fucking himself on Vegas’ fingers when he suddenly felt them disappear, his whimper now one of frustration.

Vegas was looking at him with his eyes shining. “Condom?” he asked.

Pete made a scornful expression. “Fuck that. We already got tested. It’s my turn to feel you,” he said slightly out of breath.

“Come here.” Vegas viciously kissed him again, clearly fired up by the other’s resolve.

Pete positioned himself hovering over Vegas. Then, he started pushing down his hips, his body opening for Vegas.

A loud cry resonated in the room. Pete’s eyes closed as he savored every inch of that impossibly relishing torture. He waited a minute to adjust himself to the feeling of being stretched wide open. It had been ages since their last time here at the safehouse.

After regaining a semblance of composure, he began riding Vegas’ cock in earnest, his hand back at the vibrator he had been using to pleasure him. Vegas’ hand started possessively stroking Pete’s member in time with the latter’s movements.

“Fuck…” Vegas grabbed Pete’s waist in order to sit up, but his lover was too lost in his own pleasure to notice and didn’t oppose the necessary resistance, so it all resulted in Pete losing his balance and almost falling on top of Vegas, which was avoided thanks to Pete reflexes as he clamorously grabbed the wooden headboard to stay somewhat upright.

They both giggled.

“Careful,” warned him Pete, his eyes though shining in delight. “You wanna switch?”

Vegas didn’t need to be asked twice so, with Pete’s help, they rolled over and he managed to position himself in between his lover’s legs, his chest flush against Pete’s as his forearms rested under the latter’s shoulders, gripping at the bedsheets for ulterior purchase, while Pete was lying comfortably beneath him. Vegas started thrusting into Pete, his sliding movements made possible by the push forwards and backwards of his upper arms on his pivoting elbows. Pete’s thighs squeezed Vegas’ flanks, his ankles crossed and heels pressing against the other’s lower back at the same time of his thrusts, in order to reduce his lover’s strain.

Vegas poured his whole energy into setting a pace that would satisfy Pete. And soon enough, the slick evidence of Pete’s fulfillment burst between them in white stripes that joined the permanent ones already present on his chest. At the same time, Vegas could feel the vibration in his body bringing him over the edge into an indescribable bliss, the proof of his own satisfaction buried deeply inside of Pete. His feral grunt and Pete’s shout filled the room in unison.

They stayed in this position for a while, neither of them moving, apart from Pete removing the vibrator, both needing a few minutes to catch their breath. Then Pete gently rolled them over towards the center of the bed, Vegas slipping out of him in a fluid motion as Pete rested his back once again on the mattress by the other’s side and Vegas removed the constriction band. He turned his head to look at Pete, who mirrored him, both smiling at each other.

“I think we figured it out,” said Vegas, still a little out of breath.

“Yeah.”

“That was a first for me, by the way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve never been on the receiving side,” placidly clarified Vegas.

Pete’s eyes slightly widened with surprise, his face flushed. “Oh, I see,” he said not knowing where to put his eyes at this point.

Vegas grazed his fingers over Pete’s cheek, turning his face to make him look back at him.

“That was amazing, Pete,” Vegas reassured him, “It would’ve never occurred to me. I guess I’ve been so focused on what I lost that I forgot about the new things I could have.”

Pete smiled bashfully and nodded. “That was a first for me as well. I’ve never used one of those before. I wasn’t sure I was doing it right.”

“You did more than right. You never cease to impress me.”

Pete shyly dropped his gaze, his cheeks pink from the recent exertion and the unexpected praise.

Vegas paused for a minute, his smile fading, though never vanishing completely, face set in a pensive expression. He then added in a more serious tone, “Thank you for never leaving me.”

“Thank you for letting me in,” replied Pete. “You know you can always lean on me, Vegas.”

Vegas hummed, the sound coming a bit raspy from his throat.

Pete noticed and said, “I’ll go get you a glass of water.”

He got to his feet and opened the door, hurrying downstairs to the kitchen. When he got back, after handing Vegas the glass and putting it back on the nightstand when the other was done drinking, Pete lay down once again on the bed and covered them with the sheets. His arm encircled Vegas’ chest, snuggling closer to him and resting his head on his lover’s shoulder.

“Don’t you want to take a shower?” asked Vegas.

“Mn. In a minute,” answered Pete with his eyes closed. “Let’s just stay like this for a little while longer.”

“Okay.” Vegas placed a kiss on top of Pete’s head. He shut his eyes as well and after a short while they both fell asleep.

***

Macau returned later in the morning, carrying several bags stuffed into a huge fish-tank. As soon as he got inside, he carefully laid them all on the floor by the door.

“I’m back!” he greeted.

No one answered.

“Bro? P’Pete? Are you guys home?”

Still no answer.

Macau took off his shoes and checked the kitchen and the gym area. He saw Vegas’ weights and mat lying out of place. Weird, he thought, considering his brother was a bit of a neat freak.

He wandered the rest of the floor. Finding it empty, he went upstairs to check the other rooms as well. He noticed the door of the master bedroom was set ajar, so he slowly pushed it open.

Vegas and Pete were lying asleep on the bed, their naked bodies half covered by the sheets. Vegas’ arm was circling Pete’s back in a soft embrace, the latter’s head resting on Vegas’ shoulder as their tangled feet peeped out from under the covers. Their clothes lay discarded across the floor, while Vegas’ wheelchair was left abandoned at the end of the bed.

Macau gently closed the door, smiling to himself as he tiptoed back downstairs to take care of the fish-tank he had bought for Venice, careful not to make too much noise as he set it up.

As Pete stirred awake, he looked at the nearby clock on the nightstand and realized it was almost time to prepare lunch. He then turned to Vegas, who was regarding him with a content expression set on his face.

“Sorry, I must’ve dozed off,” said Pete in a croaky voice as he rose to a sitting position, rubbing his eyes.

“We both did.” Vegas gave him a fond smile. “Want to take a bath?”

“Mn. But I have to take care of our lunch, so I’ll just have a quick shower.”

“Macau is back. I heard him mess around with some water a while ago. I think he set up the new fish-tank.”

“Oh. I didn’t hear him come back.”

“Why don’t you let him take care of lunch, while you take a warm bath,” proposed Vegas.

Pete pondered the other’s words then got up and called from the corridor in front of their door, “Macau! We’re ordering takeout. Pick whatever you want. Vegas and I will come down in a short while.”

Macau’s voice reached them from the living-room, “Copy that!”

Pete returned to Vegas, who was watching him with a curious expression. “Why not let him cook?”

“I’m not spending the afternoon cleaning up the kitchen after he used it. And I definitely don’t trust him doing the dishes.”

Vegas let out an amused laugh. “He’s not that bad. He just needs a little practice, that’s all.”

Pete ignored him. “I’ll fill up the tub.”

“Alright. While you wash, I’ll tidy up the room,” said Vegas as he pushed himself to a sitting position.

“Forget it. You’re taking a bath with me.” Pete’s tone left no room to any objection.

A few minutes later, they were lying in the bathtub, whirlpool turned off to just enjoy the relaxing warmth and calmness of the still water, foam covering almost its entire surface. Vegas was resting his back on the side of the bathtub, while Pete lay nestled between his legs, his back leaning against Vegas’ chest.

Vegas poured some shower gel onto his palm and started washing Pete’s hair. His fingers massaged the latter’s scalp with slow circular movements, as a white layer of foam covered his hair.

Pete titled hid head backwards, almost letting it fall on Vegas’ shoulder. He sighed as Vegas bent forward and placed a soft kiss on the side of his neck, nuzzling his way up to Pete’s jawline. Vegas then combed Pete’s fringe back with his palms and prepared to rinse the other’s hair with the handheld showerhead incorporated in the jacuzzi.

“About that job offer, the one Porsche mentioned when they came here yesterday,” said Pete in a relaxed voice, as Vegas washed away every trace of soap in his hair, “I was thinking of accepting it. You know, someone needs to provide for the three of us and if Macau really wants to attend a Design university, there’s even more reason to start putting aside some money.”

“I don’t think money is going to be a problem, considering how we reinvested the funds we received. Also, Uncle Korn said he would pay for Macau’s education,” said Vegas as he put back the showerhead in its place.

“I know, I know. But I don’t think it’s right to depend on them like that.”

Vegas cocked his head to the side. “Because accepting their job offer would be any different?” he asked in a neutral tone.

“Yes, I wouldn’t be working for them. I would be doing my job as a bodyguard at Yok’s bar. Porsche is close friends with her, but Yok doesn’t have anything to do with the Minor family business.” Pete paused for a moment, his hand playing with the foam on the surface, then continued, “I know Khun Korn owes you. And I guess it’s only fair that he contributes to some of the family expenses, like he did for the house renovation. But I also want our future to be something we built of our own, not something that was given by others. I don’t know if it makes sense to you, but—"

“I perfectly understand,” Vegas didn’t let him finish. “I want that, too. It’s just…” he trailed off, searching for the right way to express his thoughts. His hands rose to lightly massage Pete’s shoulders in an unconscious gesture. “I know what he did was no different than what my father would have done.”

Pete’s hand came to rest on top of Vegas’.

“And I also know in the world we used to live in, he didn’t have to make the offer he made. I guess deep in his heart, there’s still a part of him that’s human after all and not just a ruthless businessman. But when I think about Pa…” Vegas closed his fist and smashed it in the water, unable to completely repress his anger. “I still feel like he hasn’t paid enough for what he did to him. I might have disliked my father, even hated him, but he was still part of the family after all.” The bite in Vegas’ words made Pete turn around to properly look at him.

Vegas saw the way Pete was regarding him and he continued, “I know what you’re thinking,” his gaze drifting to the side, “and you were right when you said he sucked. I lost count of all the times he beat me for apparently no reason at all. I learned how to patch myself up when I was a kid, but after a while I didn’t even bother taking care of the bruises anymore. I guess it was enough of a victory to know that he was taking his anger out on me and not Macau. He was a piece of shit. Yet…” Vegas clenched his jaw and didn’t continue, his fist still clenched underwater.

Pete’s eyes searched Vegas’ face. He could see how the other was struggling to keep his composure, his mind caught up in a visible turmoil. They had never talked about this since that time during his imprisonment. Also, Vegas had always avoided mentioning his own father in the past months.

“Are you sure it’s just Khun Korn you’re angry with?” he asked, holding Vegas’ fist underwater and coaxing it open. Pete knew what was gnawing at Vegas’ heart, he had experienced it himself, first with his own father and then...

“Are you asking me if I’m angry at my father?” Vegas asked incredulously.

“No. I already know that you are.”

“Then what?”

Pete just looked at him in silence, his head slightly tilted to the side, waiting.

Vegas eventually asked, “You mean myself?”

Pete didn’t reply so Vegas went on, taken aback by the other’s non-verbal response, “Why the hell would I be angry at myself when it comes to him?” Their relaxing bath had suddenly turned into a way less pleasant experience. “What did I do wrong that I need to be angry about, uh?” his voice was progressively losing what was left of its composure. Pete’s calmness in front of him was only unsettling Vegas more. “I did everything he ever asked of me, all while protecting Macau. Whatever Pa ordered, I did it. I blackmailed, killed and tortured people for him.”

“I know.”

“I even slept with his associates and clients to get him what he wanted. Did you know that?” Vegas was trying everything to break Pete’s composure. “I tortured you because of him.”

Pete flinched, but replied in an unchanging tone, “Actually, I think that’s probably one of the few things you did for yourself.”

Vegas felt like he had just been slapped.

Pete continued, “I know you hated yourself because of the things you did to please him. But I’ve tortured and killed people myself. And I don’t think that’s the reason why you’re angry now.”

“Then why?” Vegas shook Pete by the arm. “Tell me! What did I do?” his voice was breaking. He didn’t understand what Pete was trying to do, prying like this into his wounds. Vegas felt as if he was being accused of something, only he didn’t know what it was, which made defending himself even more difficult. “What the hell did I do? I only ever wanted him to be proud of me…” Vegas’ eyes were becoming more and more unfocused, a vibrating glaze distorting his vision. “Why couldn’t he just—”

“Love you?” concluded Pete. “Is that what you wanted?”

“I wanted him to love me back!” cried out Vegas, the realization breaking him apart as he started sobbing, his shoulders shaking.

As soon as the words left Vegas’ mouth, Pete pulled him into a tight hug, cradling his lover’s head in the crook of his neck, as the other clutched at his shoulders in a desperate motion.

Pete shushed him, “It’s okay, Vegas. It’s okay.” He patted Vegas’ hair, caressing his back in a soothing gesture. “I know it’s maddening, after all he did to you.”

“I only wish I didn’t feel this way.”

“I know. But the fact that you still do even when he didn’t love you in return just proves you’re a better person than he was.” Pete pulled back just enough to look into Vegas’ teary eyes. “You did nothing wrong by loving your father. It’s him who did you wrong.” Pete pressed his forehead against Vegas’, closing his eyes.

It took a while before Vegas calmed down. Afterwards, Pete helped him get out of the tub, dry himself up and get dressed. During the whole process, at times he could still hear Vegas sniffle and he saw him wiping his face once or twice, but Pete didn’t say anything about it anymore, he only asked, “Do you feel like coming downstairs and eat something now?”

Vegas replied, “You go ahead. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“Okay.”

Pete exited the room and went downstairs, where Macau was gleefully unboxing their takeout lunch.

“He’s not coming? Food’s gonna get cold.” Macau then saw Pete’s expression and asked, “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“Vegas and I were discussing about the job offer at Yok’s. Then, we ended up talking about Khun Gun…”

Macau didn’t need to hear anything more. “Where is he now? Your room?”

Pete just nodded.

“I’ll go talk to him.”

“Alright.”

Pete let the two brothers the space they needed. Although he could strongly relate to the way Vegas felt, he understood that the best medicine for Vegas right now was probably his little brother. He finished unboxing the food and sat down to replay the events of the morning in his head. He knew they were bound to talk about Khun Gun someday, he just didn’t expect it to be on the same day in which he and Vegas had previously shared such a beautiful moment. But then again, maybe it was only thanks to what they had done that Vegas finally had enough strength to talk about it. Pete didn’t know. Just like he didn’t know many other things. He had no idea if he was doing the right thing, saying what needed to be said. He had practically no experience when it came to romantic relationships. But he was willing to give it all his best. He didn’t care if he or Vegas fell down. He would always get back up and help the other. And if Vegas refused any form of assistance, Pete would still be there by his side.

You know you can always lean on me.

Pete had meant every single word. He would never abandon Vegas. Just like Vegas would never abandon him. That’s all he needed to know.

***

Weeks went by and Vegas, Pete and Macau gradually settled in their new routine. While Macau began university, Pete started his new job as a bodyguard at Yok’s bar. He wasn’t particularly fond of the fact he had to stay up late at night most days of the week, but he was grateful for being able to see his friends more often this way. Porsche, Kinn, Tankhun, Arm, Pol and also other bodyguards would sometimes come to the club to party at night and, although Pete was technically working, Yok would always turn a blind eye whenever they dragged him towards their table to have a drink. Just one, though.

After the bar closed, he would return home to always find Vegas waiting for him, reading a book on the bed. They would often take advantage of the late hour, hoping Macau was asleep, to explore the newfound aspects and limits of their sexual dynamic. Vegas’ collection of toys wasn’t left untouched for long. In the first couple of weeks after Vegas’ discharge, Pete found out he particularly enjoyed riding the other with his hands tied behind his back. Vegas, on the other hand, seemed very fond of giving Pete head whenever the latter’s wrists were cuffed to the headboard, often wandering to bite the other’s tattoo right on top of his hipbone.

They experimented several things, some of which they enjoyed, others not so much. Vegas limited independence of movement was still a major obstacle when it came to changing positions in bed for some things they might have wanted to try. Also, Vegas’ member was not always responsive in the same way to Pete’s attentions, probably depending on the fact that although the medication and restriction band helped, Vegas’ sexual function had still been permanently impaired. And that was something they simply had to accept. However, they never let the lows get in the way of enjoying their highs, finding comfort in each other whenever things didn’t turn out exactly as they planned.

Vegas had gradually learned to open up more easily to Pete whenever there was something nagging at him, no matter how small or big, whereas Pete had become a little more confident and less self-deprecating. He had also learned to trust Macau in the kitchen, even though it had come at expenses of some of their plates. But most of all, Pete had learned that after making love to Vegas, the latter would become particularly talkative, as if he had drunk some sort of truth serum.

One night, after an especially rough round, they were lying side by side on the bed when Vegas suddenly murmured, “I never thanked you for paying respects to my mother.”

Pete turned around to look at him. Vegas was referring to the time he had bowed in front of the small shrine adorned with plants and votive candles. Pete was surprised and somewhat embarrassed by the other’s words and eventually replied, “Oh, I didn’t think you noticed…”

“I did,” simply confirmed Vegas, his eyes apparently fixed on the ceiling, but actually lost in deep thought. “I wasn’t expecting that. You took me by surprise and I really didn’t know what to make of it.” Vegas’ voice was calm and low, almost as if he was speaking to himself, “At the time I needed to get closer to Porsche per my father’s request, but I never quite forgot about that gesture of yours.”

Pete shifted to lie on his side, head resting on his hand, propped up on one elbow. His eyes scanned Vegas’ profile before he spoke, “What was she like?”

Vegas sighed, “I don’t have a lot of memories with her. My father never actually let us spend too much time together. He thought she was a bad influence, too weak to pass anything valuable to her sons. But I remember her as a very sweet and kind woman. She never refused to play with me and Macau whenever we asked her. I loved the way she combed my hair with her fingers when she put me to sleep. She always said Macau and I were her guardian angels.” Vegas let out a soft chuckle and Pete’s lips curved up in a fond smile.

“She sounds like a wonderful person,” commented Pete as he delicately caressed Vegas’ arm.

“She was,” said Vegas peacefully. He finally turned his head to look at Pete beside him. “What about your mother? What was she like?”

“I never got the chance to meet her. She died when I was born. My father raised me till I was fifteen, then he died as well and I was sent to live with my grandparents. My granddad died a few years ago, so it’s just me and grandma now.”

“I’m sorry,” said Vegas, “I didn’t imagine…”

“Don’t be. I’m used to things being the way they are. My grandma has always taken good care of me. She’s amazing. I’d like you to properly meet her one day. That is, if you want to, of course…” Pete started fidgeting with his hands, eyes wandering across the room.

“I’d love to,” replied Vegas, taking Pete’s hands in his own, halting the other’s movements.

Pete exhaled in contentment. Later, he asked, “You think Macau heard us?”

“If he’s asleep, there’s no chance. He tends to sleep like a log. There’s no way we woke him up with the sounds we made.”

Pete seemed satisfied with such an answer. “I always wished I had a brother. Or a sister. It must be nice sharing things with someone more or less your age as you grow up.”

“Didn’t you have any friends?”

“Not really, my father wanted me to focus on boxing and nothing else. And by the time he died, I was already too much of a loner to easily change my habits and make new friends at school. But I had my grandma. She has been my best friend ever since I moved in with her.”

“What about now?”

“Now? Since I’m way more easygoing, I have quite a few friends now. Working for the Main family helped a lot with that. I really can’t complain.”

Vegas just nodded and turned his head to resume contemplating the ceiling once again.

Before he could stop himself, Pete asked, “So, if you had already set your eyes on Porsche, why did you approach me like that at the temple?”

“Did it bother you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t exactly say that…It was just…unexpected.”

Vegas remained silent for a minute, then replied, “To be honest, at first, I was just toying with you. I knew you were there to spy on me and I wanted to see your reaction after I put you in a tough spot. But then, when we were listening to the sermon, I realized I was actually enjoying your company. I didn’t know what it was, but something about you made me feel oddly calm.”

“Wasn’t it the sermon that made you feel calm?”

“Yes, usually. But that time it felt different. I was also less lonely.”

“We could go make merits together again sometimes, if you want,” proposed Pete, “so we’ll get to see each other often in the next life,” he quoted Vegas’ own words.

Vegas smiled, amused by Pete’s repartee. “I’d like that,” he said, “though I think we might have to make it a regular thing, because I want to see you not only in my next life, but also in every one that may come afterwards.”

“You’re disgustingly romantic after sex, you know that?” Pete joked to hide how moved he was by the other’s words. “But I don’t think you even remember the first time we met…”

“I do.”

Pete did a double take at that. He was a new recruit at the time, definitely nobody that stood out in any way. “I don’t believe you,” he said squinting at Vegas, skepticism written all over his face.

“I really do. It was at Kinn’s 21st birthday party. My father forced me to attend the event. I was seriously pissed and I ended up punching Tankhun after he made one of his stupid jokes about the Minor family. He fought back and crashed an empty bottle of champagne in my face, splitting my right eyebrow. I guess I’m lucky it just grazed me and none of the shards actually got into my eyes. You were probably just a rookie at the time, but you didn’t hesitate to step in between us and you almost got punched yourself before Chan intervened and sent me to the infirmary at the Main family mansion.”

“Oh.” Pete was astonished that Vegas actually remembered.

“I remember it was you because I noticed the look in your eyes as you were standing before me. The same look you had when I was torturing Don’s henchman in the underground cells.”

“And what look is that?”

Vegas rolled over and pushed himself so he could partially lie on top of Pete, who had leaned back down on the mattress and was now curtailed by Vegas’ hands and chest. Vegas put his mouth at the shell of Pete’s ear and whispered, “The same look you had just now when I forbade you to touch yourself as you rode my cock.”

Vegas’ unexpected dirty talk set Pete’s cheeks aflame. “You bastard.”

Vegas cackled and Pete rolled them over once again, straddling Vegas’ hips and pushing the other’s wrists against the mattress over his head. Vegas didn’t try to resist and just laughed amusedly, enjoying the flustered look on Pete’s face.

Pete leaned down till his face was an inch apart from Vegas’. “You’re sure Macau’s asleep, right?” he asked.

Vegas smiled wickedly and just answered, “Positive,” right before they crushed their lips together in a fiery kiss. When they pulled back, both their lips and eyes were shining.

“I’m hungry,” said Pete.

Vegas’ eyes beamed with excitement as he replied, “Don’t worry, darling. I’ll never let you starve. I promise.”

***

Notes:

1. TAI = trans-anal irrigation; it’s a procedure often used in case of serious bowel dysfunction, for example in case of spinal cord injury. It prevents constipation and improves the control of bowel function.

2. ISC = intermittent self-catheterization; It’s when the patient inserts their own catheter to drain urine from the bladder multiple times a day. It prevents incontinence and allows the patient to avoid wearing a permanent catheter.

3. Khao man gai = rice cooked in chicken broth, served with poached chicken, sauce, slices of cucumber and chicken soup.

4. Moo ping = grilled pork skewers.

5. Khao phat = Thai fried rice.

6. Plakad is the Thai name to indicate all species of Betta fish, also known as fighting fish.