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Kim was still reeling from the way Porchay had looked at him last night, all soft eyes and trembling lips, as he said, “I love you too.” The memory replayed in his head like a song stuck on loop.
Now, in the soft hum of their nighttime routine, the world felt quieter than usual. Kim stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing his teeth as Porchay towel dried his hair beside him. They were both in sleep clothes, Kim in loose sweatpants and a black tee, Porchay in an oversized shirt that used to belong to Kim.
“I wanted to ask about Tankhun. He hasn’t been answering my calls,” Kim said casually, rinsing his toothbrush. “Did you talk to him at all when you went to the compound yesterday?”
Porchay froze mid-motion, towel still in his hands. “…I didn’t go to the compound,” he said after a pause.
Kim blinked. “You didn’t? I thought you would’ve gone there for comfort or advice.”
Porchay lowered the towel slowly. “I did want advice, but not from anyone in the compound. I went to see P’Vegas.”
The air changed instantly.
Kim turned, his brows furrowing. “Phi? You what?”
“I went to see P’Vegas,” Porchay repeated, more firmly now. “I needed to talk to someone and I didn’t want to tell any of your brothers and I didn’t want to tell mine either. Pete wasn’t home, but…I wasn’t really looking for him anyway.”
“You chose to go to Vegas?” Kim asked, incredulous. “Porchay, he’s—he’s dangerous.”
“He’s not like that with me,” Porchay said, frowning. “He listens. He cares. And he tells me the truth, even when it’s not what I want to hear. He was the one who made me realize that you meant what you said, even if you were scared.”
Kim crossed his arms, jaw tight. “He’s manipulative. Unpredictable. He plays with people, Porchay.”
Porchay shook his head. “Not with P’Pete, or Macau, or me.”
“Macau is his brother. Him thinking he loves Pete is just a phase. And he’s probably being nice to you because of his delusion that he is in love with Pete.”
Porchay shook his head. “No. He was honest. He didn’t coddle me. He didn’t lie to make me feel better. He also loves P’Pete very much a blind man could see it.”
Kim turned away, his voice quieter. “We should talk about this later. I’m tired. You’re not angry right?”
The silence between them stretched as Porchay seemed to make up his mind. “No, I'm not angry. We can go to bed and talk about it in the morning.”
The two then crawled beneath the sheets of Kim’s bed and drifted off to sleep.
一
The next morning, Kim woke to an empty bed.
He sat up slowly, disoriented. Porchay was usually the one who slept in, tangled in the sheets. But now, the spot Porchay usually occupied was cold to the touch. Kim could hear Porchay’s muffled voice from the front of the apartment. And then he heard the unmistakable sound of a familiar voice—one that made Kim groan and drag a hand down his face.
“ Vegas? ” Kim called, climbing out of bed and heading for the door.
Sure enough, there he was, standing in the kitchen like he owned the place, sleeves rolled up, bags of ingredients on the counter.
“Good morning, cousin,” Vegas said cheerfully, as if this were perfectly normal. “Porchay let me in.”
Porchay looked far too pleased with himself, sitting on a stool and sipping coffee. “He’s going to teach you how to cook.”
Kim blinked. “I’m sorry. What? ”
“I figured since you’ve mentioned wanting to learn before, I would ask the best chef in the family to teach you.”
Porchay said sweetly.
Vegas grinned. “You’re welcome.”
Kim looked from one to the other, then sighed and rubbed his temples. “This is a nightmare.”
Vegas clapped his hands. “Tom yum. Let’s go.”
It was a disaster.
Kim was not built for cooking. He had many natural talents but as it turned out cooking wasn’t one of them. He dropped ingredients and spilled things. He almost set the burner on fire. Vegas alternated between mocking and scolding him while Porchay watched from the counter attempting, and failing, to hide his giggles.
“I’ve never seen anyone not be able to perform basic cooking tasks,” Vegas said, snatching the pot of the heat. “How are you a grown man? How have you survived?”
“I’ve never needed to know how!” Kim snapped.
Porchay, between giggles, said, “You’re doing amazing, P’Kim.”
Kim glared. “Don’t you start.”
But…despite the chaos, something shifted. Kim started asking questions. He started watching Vegas more carefully. Kim actually enjoyed the way the kitchen smelled, the rhythm of stirring something into existence. He definitely liked how Porchay smiled at him from across the kitchen.
By the end, they had a slightly messy but delicious bowl of tom yum. Kim thought his dumb cousin would eat with him and Porchay but to his surprise Vegas started to pack up.
“Yeah Chay he’s a lost cause, I’m sorry,” Vegas said. “ You can come to dinner anytime.” Vegas said, nodding towards Porchay. “I guess you can bring the idiot too.”
Porchay grinned. Kim rolled his eyes—but he didn’t say no.
When Vegas closed the door behind him, Porchay pulled out the bowls he had gotten from the thrift store and started to dish out portions for him and Kim.
“Okay you were right.”
“RIght about what P’Kim?” Even though Porchay’s back was toward Kim, Kim knew he was smirking. He knew exactly what but he wanted Kim to say it.
“Vegas isn’t that bad.” Kim admits.
Kim is rocking back and forth on his heels when he admits something else.
“I think I want to keep trying cooking. I really liked it.”
Well that’s not what Porchay expected to hear and honestly he’s a bit worried because his boyfriend was not very elegant in the kitchen. Porchay also knew whatever Kim cooked, he’d have to try. Still Porchay managed to put a convincing smile on his face.
“Of course P’Kim, I think you should keep trying. It’s always good to pick up a new skill.”
Yeah…they’d probably be taking Vegas up on his dinner offer sooner rather than later.
Bonus: Kim tries baking
Porchay was just about to enter Kim’s apartment complex when the fire alarm blared to life. The doors to the building burst open as residents started filing out, some groggy in slippers and robes, others seemed annoyed as they muttered to themselves. Porchay froze on the sidewalk, searching for a familiar figure in the crowd.
“P’Kim?” he called.
Kim heard Porchay's voice and started to wander towards him, hair tousled and expression slightly dazed.
Porchay rushed over, grabbing his arm. “Are you okay? What happened? Do you think it’s an actual fire or just some smoke?”
Kim didn’t answer right away. He looked vaguely upward, like maybe if he stared hard enough at the sky, the whole situation would disappear. “I don’t know,” he said eventually.
Porchay squinted at him, then leaned in, suspicious. Something about Kim’s face—maybe the guilt behind his eyes or the faint smudge of flour on his cheek—tipped him off. “Wait. Was this… you?”
Kim didn’t even try to lie. He exhaled, looking more betrayed by the universe than caught in wrongdoing. “I just wanted to make cookies.”
Porchay blinked. “Cookies?”
“Chocolate chip. From scratch. For you.”
Porchay glanced back at the building, then at Kim, then at the spatula, which was now drooping sadly from residual heat. “P’Kim.”
“I followed the recipe,” Kim insisted, defensive now. “Mostly.”
Before Porchay could ask any follow-up questions, an announcement came over the intercom from one of the building staff. “The alarm was triggered by smoke on the twelfth floor. There is no fire. Everyone is clear to return inside.”
Porchay turned slowly back to Kim. “…Twelfth floor.”
Kim avoided his gaze.
The walk back up to the twelfth floor was done in silence. Occasionally people would give “the guy who caused the alarm” a side eye.
Inside, Kim’s apartment was thick with the smell of burnt sugar and disappointment. Porchay opened every window while Kim sulked near the oven.
“I don’t understand what went wrong,” Kim muttered. “I used real chocolate and everything.”
“You baked them on broil, Kim,” Porchay replied, gently picking up the charred, blackened remnants of what may have once been cookies. “Broil is for crisping, not baking.”
“…I thought it was the same thing.”
Porchay sighed, then walked over and kissed his cheek. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”
Kim scowled. “If Vegas finds out about this, he’s never going to let me live it down.”
Kim groaned and leaned his head against Porchay’s shoulder. “You’re never going to let me live this down either, are you?”
“Nope,” Porchay said, laughing, and kissed his forehead.