Familiarity was the only concept gifted to a man of his caliber. Every thing else came with a variable, a gamble, a probability that required additional analysis to contemplate its worth.
It often eluded him with time as it became tainted with scorn, painted with deception, and splattered with betrayal. And yet, all at once, it was all he knew. The familiar scent of a discharged gun, gunpowder wafted into the air and assaulted his nostrils like a bath bomb one released in the tranquility of their pool sized hot tub, the familiar color of rouge as it stained the pristine white tiling underneath his leather loafers that he'd need to replace, again, the familiar wide-eyed, open-mouthed expression of a fallen man whose fatal mistake was crossing the lines into his threshold.
Nothing new, just ironically accustomed.
A click, the mechanism of a safety clip placed back, removed the lethality of the weapon in his hand, uncurled his fingers to hand it over to a bowed head to his right that would handle dismantling it as his left hand was provided with a wet, cool towel. He lifted it to clean away the speckled paths of grime, blood and filth that splashed on his porcelain features, traced the fabric down the span of his neck idly as one would in front of a mirror as daily skincare routine. A norm.
This was a norm for him.
Death was an inevitable result of life, he just happened to expediate the process. A grim reaper, the bringer of death, the cloud of doom, he knew he had many names in the circles of his enemies, allies, and family; but he preferred to just go by Kinn. Anakinn Theerapanyakun. Titles were too formal, changed on the upkeep like one changed out their linens after a delicious fuck of a boy toy into them, and he hummed as he returned the soiled towel to the hands that had given it to him. Perhaps he should call one to release his pent-up energy, a vague thought that escaped him as the scramble around him left him unphased.
"Khun Kinn—"
"I want it disposed of in the incinerator. No one is searching for it right?" The individual was male, deceased, and lost his value at his expiration. Why bother to continue referring to 'him' as anything but an item? It was the best way Kinn could detach readily from the acts he committed, the ability to discern humans with objects. Though at times, the lines blurred, and he mentally shrugged. If anything or anyone lost its importance to him, he readily broke them and tossed away, simple as that.
His hands went into the pockets of his trousers, contemplated a moment on his next steps as he wanted very much to indulge in a bath. With one, no, two boy toys tending to him; one massaging his shoulders with their hands, the other mouthing his cock, both just lavishing his form with well-deserved admiration. Even if it came out of Kinn's pocket, he knew that all of the callboys clawed at one another for his attention, trampled, and scrambled at his beck-and-call. A comfortable thought that brought a hum to his lips of delight. His elder brother often called him a beast and fiend for not settling down, preferred to indulge in the carnal urges of the flesh, cycle out the 'pretty boys' as dependent on his mood. Kinn didn't care. It was his body, his pleasure, and his peace of mind. Tankhun could never understand the surmountable stress he carried and needed to release.
If it was through fucking two pretty boys at the same time, orally, anally, upside down, sideways, it was at Kinn's discretion to do so. He never felt guilty, he never felt dissatisfied; granted, his emotion barometer definitely took a hit when he went from murder to sex, without being able to distinguish the forms of energy but such was his lot in life. A mafia head rarely had the luxury to find a soulmate, one that would take his breath away, that the instant he saw them, he melted. It was a dream that was nonsensical, childish, and shamefully idealistic for him to even entertain. He left that to Tankhun with his dramas and Kimhan with his little guitar, singer gameplay.
"No family members to speak of his affiliations were purely with the casino; however, the owner said as long as his debt was paid, he didn't care about the individual."
"And the percentage minus what the owner owes me was provided correct?"
"Yes sir. All of it accounted for."
"Perfect," Kinn shifted to step away as two came to lift the corpse, stared into eyes that held no life, no color, a flame extinguished by the extinguisher that was no longer in his hand but in one of his guards who went to have it refurbished. He was in the comfort of the compound, his home, his fortress. What need did he have to carry it? An ankle pistol, one that once weighed him down, now saved his life on one than more occasion, felt like an extension of himself that was kept close. A small, folded knife that was simple in its design, engraved with 'K.T' on its steel, resided in his pocket that he often doubled as a stress ball. His fingers curled against the item, traced the lines of it, before he heard himself called again, "What?"
"Khun Kinn. I'm sorry to disturb you but something else requires your immediate attention—"
"And it can't wait why?"
Those long days that took him out of bed and straight into hellfire; the boardrooms, the tediously winded meetings with old men and women who rarely took him seriously till he brought a literal finger or ear to the table, the threat of a replaying that process in front of them to gain respect, it shook them all into silence, and then interrogations. As much as he might have enjoyed the exhilaration of being begged and pleaded with; Kinn did not regal in torture. He left that nasty business to the minor family. The sick fucks. He knew Vegas had a disturbing chain kink, having once watched a session of his cousin electrifying a man to get him to confess to something, and he felt squeamish to the point of being unable to eat lunch or dinner. Whereas Vegas just tossed a smirk at him, ate both his and Kinn's bowl of ramen, and went back home without a care on his face. It was difficult to swallow that pill down.
No. Kinn preferred to make it a quick, relatively painless process of disposal – one shot to the head, clean, and swift. The idea of drawing it all out also was energy-consuming and for Kinn, it was a waste of time. Something that he hated above anything else.
Much like now. He finished his meetings of his day, he went over the planned itinerary in detail specifically to be able to unwind with a drink and a fuck, so what was this all of a sudden?
"Your father requested your presence sir."
"Ah."
Despite being like a clock that worked on solar power on a good day, Kinn still had his pyramid head to report to, his father. A man that lacked in even more emotions, morals, and convictions than himself, Tankhun, and Kimhan combined; he secretly thought the man was a robot. Impressively functional on the go, his father once commanded the whole of Thailand's underground, nothing was not stamped with his name. Burned to ashes and built his foundation atop it. With his growing age and obvious contenders, it was not easy to maintain an empire without the appropriate contacts, allies, and partnerships. His father often told him this and he just became oblivious to the thought of being used for one of these so called 'alliance by marriage'. He vehemently put his foot down, threatened to eat his gun if it ever came up again, and his father stopped.
But every now and again, his father entertained the thought and told him that it was for Kinn's sake he was so adamant and insistent. Kinn chocked it up to old man sentimentality he supposed because his father never intervened with his decisions. Everything, all of it, was left to Kinn to handle, maneuver, and manipulate to his desire.
"Lead on Chan."
~~~
"We'll be back after this commercial break~!"
"POL WHY'RE YOU TAKING SO LONG WITH THE POPCORN?!"
"I'm sorry Khun...I just..."
"The commercial is only for 3 minutes!"
"Sir, there's always at least 5 of them...so if you calculate that...you'll get 15 minutes of commercials. Popcorn only takes about 2 minutes to cook, so even then—"
"Shut up Arm, no one asked you," Tankhun tossed a pillow over to Arm with a grumble, hands going immediately to his hips where leopard print pants were clad and clung to his legs. He had been anticipating the drop of this show since he noticed the commercials for it indicated it was about a 'mafia' theme, and he was intrigued. Not that he wanted to see if it rivaled his life, he just wanted to spend the entire time ripping the context apart, simping over the leads if they were compatible or gorgeous, and he just something new to look-forward to every week.
For the next two months, he was going to be glued to his couch, with Pol and Arm, and nestled into the cushions with an air of vibrancy that was dependent on this first episode. That was why he needed the damn popcorn! He looked about the room for a moment.
"Yes sir? Need something?"
Tankhun pointed a finger to Arm, who held up his tablet in front of his face much like a shield, and snorted, "I need more snacks. Order them from the kitchen. I realized that I'm going to need more than popcorn. I want watermelon juice, Pad Thai, and dried persimmons."
"...Sir..."
"Are we going to have a problem Arm? Do I have to lock you out on the balcony overnight again?"
Arm just shook his head like a bobble-head that was glued to a race car's dashboard, went to reach for his cellphone to press a couple of buttons and text the request to the kitchens. No matter what season, no matter what temperature; whatever any of the Theerapanyakun masters wanted, they got. He just had a tendency to forget from time to time how powerful they were, the men he worked for, and to cross them was a mistake that could readily end his life. Tankhun putting him out on the balcony after one particular talk-back, one Arm couldn't catch, was a set back that almost had Kinn toss him over the balcony railing in an irate tirade. All three of the Theerapanyakun men definitely had some problems that they needed to be tended to.
He shook his head as he dared to glimpse over to his boss, sag in relief as Tankhun preferred to seek out Pol in the suite's kitchenette and shook his head. A peek to linger into the other room though he knew Pol could handle Tankhun on his own, he worried from time to time about other instances. Arm knew his proficiency was better utilized in a different department; however, this one allowed him to practice, to review, and almost be at peace with himself than when he went out into the field.
The knock jostled his thoughts a moment, scrambled immediately to his feet, hand to his gun that was always in the holster at his waist, not ever one to take the chance that they were not under siege. Despite them all having a decently good time, his job was to protect Tankhun Theerapanyakun, or die trying, so he stalked over to the door calmly.
"Who?"
"Arm. I am not in the mood."
"Ah! Khun Kinn!"
Arm clipped back the pistol into its place, made sure the safety remained on before tripping over the exuberantly pink plush rug in his dash to go and open the door for Kinn. Normally the man would just burst into any and every room he pleased as though he owned the place, which to a point, he did. As second in command under Korn Theerapanyakun, the father of the three brothers, Kinn just held a presence that said, 'obey or suffer' and the latter was not feasible. Especially if that tone was anything to refer to.
The toss of the door had Kinn's eyebrow raise, take a careful step back with the tray in his hands that was ladled with the requested items from the kitchen, and he smirked at Arm immediately taking the tray to step aside and free Kinn to go into the bedroom suite as he desired.
"Khun?"
"I'm in the kitchen with Pol!"
"Why the hell did you ask for snacks if you were making something?"
"Kinn, I'm insulted. When have I EVER cooked? In my life? Do you WANT to burn the compound down?"
"Sometimes?"
"Kinn!"
A head popped out from around the corner of the other room, dyed hair stuck up all over the place, eyes smoky, and a frown pulled at his lips. Kinn raised an eyebrow at his brother's disheveled state and smirked, "Are you making out with Pol or something in there? I can leave."
"Ew what the fuck Kinn!"
"I think you're protesting way too much," The middle son shrugged, hands still in his trousers as Arm went to adjusting the items, not noticed how the guard appeared to hesitate at that comment. Kinn tossed a casual glance over his shoulder to see Arm's expression of displeasure that cooled over into nothing once more, he knew that Arm and Pol were an item, there really was not subtleties when it came to both of them. Kinn would not pride himself in being an observant man if didn't notice the longing gazes they shared to one another from opposite sides of a meeting room, the tiny grazes of fingertips as they passed in the hallways, and despite the idiotic front Pol displayed, he was intelligent.
He wouldn't be a guard if he lacked in skills; his sniper skills were excellent and his attention to detail; Kinn knew that Pol just put the front of indifferent fool so as to give Arm the spotlight, allowed the younger man to come with his ideas, his thoughts, and achieve success. But there was an unspoken rule that guards who dated would only distract one another and they'd be immediately dismissed.
It was a rule his father set in place, Kinn never had a reason to deviate from it, and he was wickedly amused at their predicament of trying to keep their relationship under wraps. Though a part of him was also jealous. What would it be like to have an easy-going relationship where he didn't have to keep himself as a stoic monster and destroyer of worlds? What if he had someone who he could play house with, be secretive if only to share smiles at one another, be able to just be Anakinn and not Kinn? A delusional fantasy that came from a sleep-deprived brain he reasoned with himself.
The meeting he just came from returned to the forefront of his mind and he sagged his shoulders as he went to settle into the middle part of the couch, not really care that he took up the entire space as he enjoyed the feeling of being able to relax a little. As much as he disliked Tankhun's failure to shut up, Kinn needed the respite from reality. From his duties, from his expectations, from his father. Kinn toed off his shoes, spread out his legs, head tossed back with a comfortable sigh as the fatigue ebbed into his bones.
"Kinn, you come in here saying stupid things and then take my couch?! Go to YOUR room and do that crap."
"Khun...I just need a break. Just let me have this..."
Tankhun had returned with the burnt bowl of popcorn that he and Pol had to wrestle out of the microwave, the idiot had pressed a high power and time, exploded the kernels, and smoke filled the kitchen instantly. His eyes face got the brunt, he pulled at his hair in frustration, and came to glare at his little brother just to take in the physique.
A side peek to Arm who bypassed him in favor of going to check on Pol, presumably, it was no secret they were together. Why would he want the guard? Either of them? There was no sex appeal, they were beneath his standards, and just no. Kinn's joke was in bad taste and then for him to come command the room was irritating. About to toss the popcorn onto that head, he could see the lines of those broad shoulders were taut, Kinn's eyes closed as he hung his head back, Tankhun relaxed visibly. He knew the unbearable weight of everything that Kinn carried.
And knew that the only time Kinn came to relax with him instead of gallivanting to some expensive restaurant with an escort on his arm, disappear into a hotel for the rest of the night to be unheard of till morning, was because he spoke to their father. The man was the only one who had the ability to unravel any of them.
He settled beside Kinn, crossed his legs casually, raised an eyebrow at a missed blood spot against Kinn's neck to note his brother had not even gone to shower or bathe, that was how cross he was if he wanted to just hide away for a little bit. Tankhun set the bowl down between them, reached over to grab a tissue from the coffee table to move to wipe it against the nape, ignored Kinn's reflexive twitch, and relaxed again.
They all had those reflexes. It was what saved their lives.
Tankhun hummed, "Papa talk to you?"
"Mm."
"About getting married or something?"
"Mm."
"What'd you say?"
"I told him no. Again."
"I think he really is worried about you Kinn."
Kinn opened a weary eye, turned his head to look in disbelief and not believing that their father was capable of concern; a dragon only nestled in its cave and cared for no one but itself and its treasure. He doubted they were his father's treasures, no matter how natural that assumption would be; he knew his father was capable of anything.
"I'm serious!"
"Doubtful."
"He saw the way you broke down at the last family meeting with the minor family."
"That's because Vegas was getting on my fucking last nerve."
"He gets one EVERYONE'S fucking last nerve. But you never break face like that. I can still hear that imp laughing at you. Ugh, if it wasn't for Big holding me back I was going to tackle him to the ground."
Kinn let out a barked out laugh of amusement, opened both eyes now to turn and address his brother who sat there, finished cleaning up the missed blood, deemed him clean as Tankhun just sat back to face forward and not look at him directly. This was how they communicated. No eye contact, just vague comfort in one another's company, they were used to it. And forget Kim. They only heard from him on birthdays, special occasions like Kinn acquiring a new land deal, or something asinine like that; so Kinn only had Tankhun to depend on for the moment. He moved to pet Tankhun's hair down, adjust the locks as he adjusted his laxed posture.
"I would've paid to see that."
"Yes but Papa gave me the stink eye to behave. I was feeling my inner hell cat come out Kinn."
"I could've used that hell cat a minute ago to get Papa off my back."
"Why not just hire a pretty face to be your boyfriend till you find yourself a real one? Papa just wants you to be happy."
"No. He doesn't. He just doesn't like my philandering anymore. It presents instability. Says I'm too old to behave like an immature hormonal teenager that fucks every hole available to him. Which...in my case...is a lot."
"First of, ew. Second, he's right. When are you going to stop thinking with your cock and think with your brain?"
Kinn let out a breath from his nose, the air harsh as he reached into the bowl to grab a couple of the kernel, popped them into his mouth before spitting them promptly with a groan, "These are disgusting."
"I can only work so many miracles Kinn," Tankhun rolled his eyes, set the bowl aside after grimacing at the popcorn, blinked slowly when he realized that Arm and Pol had not reemerged from the confines of the kitchenette, raised an eyebrow and smirked as he leaned forward to motion to the area with a nod of his head, "Think they're making out?"
"They are MOST definitely making out. I joked about you doing it with Pol, Arm is pretty possessive. I've seen some golf sized hickeys on Pol's shoulders before...not that I needed that image in my head but well, it's there," The younger gave a shudder and peeked over to not hear anything, snickered in amusement as the two probably stopped whatever the hell they were doing when Tankhun and him lowered the volume of their voices.
Before Kinn could continue to comment about the whole situation, the television returned with the announcement of "The Dragon Blues" show and he snorted, "Tankhun, this seems stupid already."
"Kinn, shut up. If you're going to stay, you're going to be quiet and let me watch the first episode."
"It's a show about the mafia...but called Dragon Blues...sounds like a kid's show about emotions or some shit like that," Kinn barely managed to deflect the pillow attack from his brother who pounded on him with the item, the laughter that escaped him definitely felt freed, relaxed and comfortable than he felt in a very long time. This was why his brother's room was his haven 50% of the time...the other 50% was his cock balls' deep in the ass of his latest conquest, but he would make do for now.
His father quelled any initial fire and intentions he had to call up his escort service to handle him; Kinn was disappointed at himself, at his situation, and knew that as cold of a creature he was, he was still human. Everything that was spat at him were facts, tangible indications of Kinn's person to just stick to fucking anything with legs and a cock, and then devolve back to the apathetic demeanor when it came to work. Was he not the perfect golden son otherwise? Why couldn't his father understand that considerations like relationships, connections, and feelings were foreign to him? The last time had been Tawan. Kinn dutifully turned everything off after that.
The only switch was physical, lust-filled, and worked off contentedly through sex. His eyes returned to the front since Tankhun disregarded him in favor of watching the show.
A shrug of his shoulders, Kinn reached for the plate of persimmons, chewed on one calmly, legs crossed and turned up the volume as a hint to the bodyguards in the kitchen that they were free to do as they pleased as long as it didn't interrupt the flow of the brothers' time together.
~~~
"That is so unrealistic..."
"Right?! Kinn do you do that?"
"What? Gouge a man's eye out? That's gross...too boring to do cleanly. Ask Vegas."
"Hard, fucking, pass."
In the time span of the hour premiere of the show, Kinn had text to get more food, neither he nor Tankhun heard from Arm or Pol again, presumed to have snuck off together during a moment of the brothers not paying attention, taking the chance to take their leave for the night. At least they tried to. The crash into the dining table, stilled motions, Kinn only waved behind him to be dismissed and carry on, both scrambled out with a slam of the door. He rolled his eyes. And he was told he was the horn dog all the time.
Now he sat there with Tankhun, the show's premise was ridiculous; the head guy, his name was Kraisee which meant fierce and kingly as a lion, which was a total cliché as Kinn popped a spicy dumpling after being delivered the food in front of them during a commercial break, he snorted at how outlandish he behaved.
What kind of guy would run into an alleyway when being chased around? That was idiotic, there was no viable escape and left for his back literally against a wall. Which was stupid since the man had taken an eye out of a traitor for spilling secrets and spying, tossed to the Italian he met with, and Kinn rolled his eyes.
"It just doesn't make sense. Kraisee went from ripping eyes out to running around like a chicken with its head cut off into an alleyway. What is he going to do? Jump up and catapult over the fencing?"
"Well maybe the other main is going to show up and protect him?"
"Even if he does, why would that be believable? No one helps for nothing. Everyone always wants something. You'll see...Kraisee will get shot, left in an alley to die and THEN the guy is going to come and help him."
Tankhun shifted on the couch to poke at Kinn's temple, enjoyed that his brother was tranquil enough to make fun of the show and as much as he wanted to yell at him to shut up, he wouldn't trade this moment for anything. The stress-free features were all Tankhun could offer to the younger who took on the burdens of their family on his behalf. He licked his lips, tucked a stray hair behind an ear as Kinn scooped and chewed on another dumpling.
"Why are you killing the guy off? I told you he's the main guy!"
"And I'm telling you the probability of survival is significantly low if he put himself in the situation. Unbelievable."
Both looked to see that the show returned, a couple of shots rang out on the television, loudly that neither flinched to, gazes calm, they watched the crumple of a body against a dumpster, the crowding of the bad guys around the mafia boss, and a gun pointed to the camera.
"Ah shit maybe they're going to kill him in episode one. Way to SPOIL IT KINN!"
"I TOLD YOU!"
And suddenly the sounds of a patrol car blared, screeching in sound that it made Kinn lower the volume of the television calmly as he wrinkled his nose and got up to go and get himself some juice from the buffet spread on Tankhun's table.
"You're going to miss it!"
"I'm getting juice, just pause it!"
"KINN IT'S LIVE I CAN'T!"
"Fuck!"
Kinn hurriedly poured himself a glass of watermelon juiced, enticed by Tankhun's cravings before he moved to settle back into his seat expertly, lean forward onto his elbows as they watched the main lead, Kraisee the mafia head, bled out against the dumpster as the camera panned onto him. His expressions, his dark eyes just stared up to the sky as it 'rained'. It always rained in dramatic moments like that, Kinn unconsciously curled a hand into his thigh. As much as this was pretend and a show, some of it was painfully relatable to him, to his life. He could easily end up shot, bleeding to death by a dumpster under the rainy night sky, and he just remained silent as his heart pounded in his ears.
As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn't. Kinn could see the outline of himself, a mirrored image, his own hand covered with his own blood, similar to the life he had taken of the traitor a moment ago and he swallowed down the inkling of pain that churned in his heart. What would it be like to die like that? Lose everything and everyone he held dear.
He knew exactly why he pushed away everyone. The fear of having only to lose it. If he restrained, restricted, and limited himself, then Kinn would never have to deal with the impeccable agony of it slipping through his fingers. His mother died, left them and his father behind, and as steel like the elder man was, he was not incapable of mourning. His father mourned his mother's death for two years afterwards, and even now, little things reminded him of her. Bit by bit. Kinn didn't want to put all his eggs in that basket should he have to suffer a similar fate – and leave behind all the purity that he allowed to brighten his shadowed heart.
Thoughts swirled, emotions that were always well encompassed in a glass chrysalis, Kinn shook his head to clear them and return to watch as someone came to the screen. A rush of Converse clad feet, the drop of an umbrella, this stranger ran to this man's side, slid to his knees and panicked.
Him and Tankhun shifted closer, breaths held as a pair of golden hands went to rip a shirt in a makeshift tourniquet, disregard the sound of the police to assist the fallen man out of the line of fire so to speak, dragged him into a nearby café where they had gone out to throw out the trash. Both men hidden away from the noise, the rainfall, and only looked into one another's eyes. Kinn instantly lost focus on the mafia head and his own depressed pity party as the camera shifted over to this new contender – the other lead.
Words were formed, a pair of honey eyes stared concerned as appropriate and every little flicker of emotion could be felt by him, as the audience, and he was marveled. The way this man went from angry, worried, frustrated at the lack of communication from the fallen fellow on his floor, and apathetic means as he clinically did his best to tend to Kraisee. Could someone look so beautiful and be able to play any part so emphatically? Without hesitance, without a chip at the wall, it was alluring and captivating. Kinn watched as this creature flitted around the café to get him sorted, not even question the appearance of a shot-out man, and before the fade out, a name. Porsche.
The credits rolled onto the screen and Kinn only sat back after a good minute of absorption.
"Wow...you called it or what. I don't know if I'll continue."
"When does this air?"
"Every week at this time. For two months its scheduled."
"I'm going to pencil it in," Kinn pulled out his cellphone that had been silenced, ignored the plethora of emails, missed calls, and text messages to note down the show name, Tankhun's name, and slotted at least two hours to not be disturbed or consequences would be severe. An update to his calendar meant all of the staff would have it and be notified of the stipulation.
"Did you like it that much? You and I were ripping it apart, Kinn."
"Not the show. Him," He saw the cast pictures fly by on the screen, pointed to the character of 'Porsche' played by Nattawin Wattanagitiphat fly by before it disappeared to others that had not appeared yet.
"An...actor?"
"That's exactly who I need."
"For what?"
"I want to see if my hunch is correct first."
"Hunch?" Tankhun could see his brother's mind whirling, working overtime before he blinked owlishly to Kinn's expression of manic delight. "Kinn..."
"To get Papa off my back. What better way to trick someone than with an actor who thrives off of playing pretend?"
-TBC-