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At long last, Porsché was close to graduating High School. Sure, he had University to battle through next but the last few years of High School had been a special type of hell for Porsché. He did not fit in with his classmates. Porsche had busted his ass to get Porsché into a private High School and he appreciated it, but Porsché was clearly at the bottom of the socioeconomic ladder at his school and he hated it.
Porsché managed to get into the top classes, completing the several accelerated programs that his school offered with ease. Unfortunately the class differences were all the more obvious when he looked around at his classmates. Many of them had married parents, none of them needed to face debt collectors on a regular basis. It was easy for Porsché to feel out of place with his second hand uniform and basic packed lunches.
Even the teachers singled Porsché out. THey might have meant well but it felt condescending, the attention they placed on Porsché and his “poor brother”. They never asked other students whether they had eaten breakfast, or what exactly he ate at home. Porsché handled it all with as much grace as he could, and made sure Porsche never knew about any of it.
As they were approaching the end of the year, the normal parent-teacher interviews were replaced with career advice meetings that parents were encouraged to attend. Parent-teacher interview time was always humiliating for Porsché. Porsche was invited as a proxy but Porsché never told him about that. His brother would have come if he knew but Porsché did not want him to experience the pitying looks from his teachers.
On the days of the parent-teacher interviews Porsché would hang around alone and endure the whispers and questioning looks from teachers and parents alike. It sucked. So Porsché was prepared for the career meetings to proceed in much the same way and sat at the back of his normal classroom with his study materials, ready to pass the time.
“Pichara.” Porsché’s head snapped up at his birth name being called. The school’s stern librarian stood in the doorway with her arms crossed. “Why are you not at the career meetings? They are in the library today.”
“I - “ Did Porsché really have to explain, again , that he had no parents to come to such a meeting?
“Your guardian is waiting. Hurry up.”
Guardian? Did Porsche somehow find out about the meeting? Porsché winced with guilt even as he hurriedly shoved his study materials into his backpack, ignoring the crumpled paper. He could flatten that out later. He hurried past the librarian and straight to the library. It had been rearranged to accommodate the meetings with small desks dotted around.
Porsché’s eyes widened comically as he immediately noticed Tankhun, the eldest Theerapanyakun brother, sitting in front of one of the tables with one of his bodyguards sitting next to him. It was hard to miss the larger than life man, dressed in a plum velvet pantsuit paired with a turquoise corduroy blazer. He had a large cane that was clasped in front of him. He should be sitting on a throne instead of in a shitty library. Porsché thought as he slowly made his way over.
His Biology teacher was on the other side of the desk looking just as bewildered as Porsché felt. “Hi Khun Tankhun.” Porsché wai’ed.
“Please, call me Phi.” Tankhun scoffed.
“Umm… Hi P’Tankhun. Why…” Are you here, is what Porsché wanted to ask but he was worried it would come across rude.
“I’ll tell you later. Now that you are here, we can go over some career advice with this lovely teacher here, hmm?” Porsché would hardly call Mr Owit lovely but he sat down on Tankhun’s other side obediently.
“I am afraid I have no notes for Mr Kittisawat.” Mr Owit started. Indeed there were no papers on the desk.
“Why not? He is one of your students! What sort of place is this?” Tankhun directed the question at the bodyguard by his side who shrugged helplessly.
“Well Mr Kittisawat has never been included in these meetings.” Mr Owit was on the defensive. “They are for parents and obviously he does not meet that basic requirement.”
Oof. That was a blunt way to put it. It was the truth though so Porsché could not disagree. “Have we been transported into some period drama? What century is this?” Tankhun sounded mad. Porsché was about to say something to calm the bizarre man when Mr Owit decided to dig his hole deeper.
“I teach accelerated Biology. Normally my students come from more structured environments. I don’t know who you think you are, but I have other parents to meet with.”
“You are speaking with Khun Tankhun Theerapanyakun.”
Mr Owit paled once he heard Tankhun’s full name. “So you do know who you are talking with. Now, are we going to discuss my Chaychay’s bright prospective future or is Arm going to call some men in to burn this building down with you inside?”
“Holy shit.” Porsché muttered. Mr Owit and Tankhun did not hear him, the former too busy staring at the latter in absolute terror.
The meeting went forward but it was… not particularly productive or enlightening. Tankhun made Porsché discuss his career goals (medicine) and glared at Mr Owit while the teacher desperately agreed that Porsché would succeed in anything he put his mind to. Mr Owit switched his tactic, mentioning a connection within the Medical Faculty of Khon Kaen University that Tankhun merely scoffed at.
Porsché could only watch as Mr Owit became more and more desperate to please Tankhun, who looked terminally unimpressed in response. When Mr Owit was red in the face Tankhun stood and announced that he was leaving and pulling Porsché out of school early. Mr Owit did not dare to question him and Porsché let himself be swept away by Tankhun and his still silent but nice looking bodyguard.
“The car is outside Khun Nu.” Arm said after touching his earpiece. Tankhun grabbed Porsché’s arm and bundled him into the black car, letting out a dramatic sigh of relief once the door was closed behind them.
“Arm, Pol! We are never coming back to school!”
“Yes Khun Nu.” Both bodyguards agreed in unison.
“I’m sorry but why did you come today?” Porsché finally asked. His hands were clenched tightly onto the fabric of his bag. He tried to run through everything Porsche had told him about the oldest Theerapanyakun but all Porsché really knew was that he was eccentric, liked shows and never left the compound.
“Why wouldn’t I?” Tankhun asked, fully affronted that Porsché dare question him. “Arm was hacked into your school’s network to keep track of your grades and he let me know that this meeting was coming up.”
That did not explain anything at all but Porsché felt awkward pushing the point.
“I told you I would be raising you. I might have missed out on some years but I refuse to be a deadbeat dad! I refuse!” Tankhun pouted and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Thank you.” Porsché said sincerely. “I appreciate you showing up.” It was nice to have someone there, and Porsché was not above admitting that it was nice to see Mr Owit squirm.
“Arm has added my contact to your phone. I expect you to call me from now on.”
Porsché did. It would be some time before he realised that Tankhun took the job of raising him very seriously.