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Chapter Text

They roll out of bed eventually, groggy and bruised, but loose-limbed, sated, and content after the storm that raged around and through them for so long finally subsided.

Kawi puts his boxers back on and throws Pisaeng’s bloody shirt over his shoulders before padding into the living room that still lies in darkness, stepping over shattered glass, jumping over broken chairs, and kicking off the remains of the foil balloons that get stuck to his feet on his way to open the blinds. When light falls into the room, Kawi looks at something akin to a war zone: their apartment is a site of destruction, with bullet holes littering the walls and ceiling, their couches in pieces, the kitchen counters charred, and the fridge door hanging lopsided on its hinges.

As he follows Kawi, Pisaeng looks around dumbfounded, casting a wistful glance across what remains of their memories and belongings, and flinches when he sees the picture of his mother, now lying torn up on the floor. He turns one of their dining room chairs back on its legs, slumping down on it with a sigh, but the splintered wood gives in almost immediately, making Pisaeng plummet to the ground with a loud, dull thud. For a moment, he looks up at Kawi, owlish and open-mouthed. And then they both burst out laughing, standing in the rubble of their home in their underwear and torn shirts, the scene so absurd that Kawi's stomach aches as he doubles over.

"I think we need to move," Pisaeng comments, lying down on the ground, still smiling as he peers up at the shattered chandelier.

Kawi giggles again as he wades through the puddle on the kitchen floor from where the faucet is still spilling water. "Dealing with insurance will be a nightmare."

"That reminds me," Pisaeng perks up. "I have three different insurance bills taken out on the flat. One covers gas explosions. We might be able to recover some of the damage that way."

"Anything else I should know about?"

"My life is insured for one hundred million baht," Pisaeng says, both factually and casually.

Kawi gapes and whistles. "I should've taken you out sooner. I could've easily retired with that money."

"It was meant for you, in case something happens to me,” Pisaeng tells him. “But it doesn't pay out if you're the one to kill me. Sorry for that, darling, but it's a standard clause."

"Go figure," Kawi grumbles, grabbing two glasses that somehow survived the fire and pouring them both a glass of orange juice. Then he goes over to lie down beside Pisaeng, ceramic crunching and wood splinters digging into his back.

They clink glasses, sipping their juice in silence for a while and watching dust specks dance through the mellow morning sunshine that's filtering through the dirtied windows.

"So what do we do now?" Kawi asks after a while, turning his head to look at Pisaeng.

"I have no idea," Pisaeng admits, pursing his lips. "I assume they also told you they'd kill you if you didn't get the job done."

"Yeah,” Kawi confirms. “It's standard procedure if you get IDd. And you have me all figured out, haven't you?"

"Do I? I thought I had, but..." He peters out, looking pensive and chewing on his words. "We have to get to know each other all over again, don't we?"

Kawi looks at him for a long moment, weighing his words and what they mean for him, for them . He knows parts of Pisaeng, just like Pisaeng knows parts of Kawi, some of them true and honest, others distorted and bent. He’s his husband and his enemy, his best friend and opponent, the biggest risk to his own life, and Kawi doesn't know who he'll meet once they face each other without pretence and isn't sure if he's ready to find out yet, not when their future is so incredibly uncertain. All he knows when he scoots closer, rolling over the dirt and debris to take Pisaeng’s chin between his fingers, is that he can’t fathom the thought of leaving his side again.

“Right now, we have to survive,” he murmurs, brushing their lips together in a gentle, reassuring kiss. Everything else will have to wait.

“We should be safe here until we go back to the present, at least,” Pisaeng mumbles against his mouth, his hands sliding into Kawi's hair.

Kawi sighs contentedly, deepening the kiss and thinking that they could just stay here for a while and try out this life, spend a week or a year in this other time that seems simpler and less burdened, and tend to the cracks and bruises they carry on their bodies and hearts. But he jolts out of his daydream when he realises that he did reveal their position to someone, his eyes flying open as he quickly detaches his lips from Pisaeng's.

“So, about that..." Kawi winces, fluttering his lashes in an attempt to appeal to the side of Pisaeng that, for some inexplicable reason, thinks he's cute as a button. But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence when a rap on the door makes them both startle.

“Mr. Jirawarakul?” A female voice comes through the door, as does another, persistent knock. “This is building management. We received a noise complaint from your neighbours and wanted to check in on you.”

Kawi raises his brows at Pisaeng, nodding his head over to the door while Pisaeng shakes his, a silent debate passing between them as to who will have to face the woman in their state of complete and utter dishevelment.

“You go,” Pisaeng whispers. “My shirt barely covers my dick.”

“No, you go,” Kawi hisses back. “Mine is bloody, and you left so many hickeys on my neck that she'll call the police.”

“Mr. Jirawarakul?” The voice yells again, louder now. “Please open the door, or we’ll see ourselves forced to enter.”

Kawi gives Pisaeng a stern look, pointing at the door.

“Coming!” Pisaeng yells back and picks himself up from the ground, with Kawi following him to pat some of the worst dust off his shirt and smooth his hair down.

They nod at each other, and Pisaeng walks up to the door with a straight back, pulling the edge of his shirt down to cover a bit more of his naked legs, but it doesn’t give him any more dignity. Kawi throws his hands over his mouth to stifle a snort before he remembers that their guns are still lying discarded on the floor and between the cushions, rushing over to the couches to pick them up and hiding them behind his back just as Pisaeng opens the door, a wide, friendly smile plastered on his face.

“We’re really sorry for the noise,” Pisaeng says, pushing himself into the doorway to hide the inside of the flat from view. “We had a bit of an argument earlier, but-”

Without a warning, a shot rings out—one loud, sudden boom that pierces Kawi's bone marrow. Pisaeng staggers backwards, holding his stomach and doubling over, his other hand flying up to grab the edge of the door to throw it shut, but the person on the other side is pushing against it, clad in black and holding a gun up.

“Pisaeng!” Kawi screams out, jumping over the toppled-over couch and to his side, and throws himself against the door, pushing the intruder back long enough to lock it.

He grabs Pisaeng by the arm, throwing it over his shoulder to hoist him away from the door and to safety, his heart hammering rapidly as the idyll of serenity they just gained evaporates.

“Triple B agents,” Pisaeng chokes out, groaning when he tries to stand upright, and Kawi sees the blood seeping through his fingers, a red stain rapidly spreading out. “They found us.” 

“Did you tell them where you’re going?” he asks frantically, icy fear dripping through his veins, when the sound of someone slamming against the door rumbles through the room. Kawi remembers that Jane surely knows where they are because he asked for her help, but that wouldn't bring Triple B on the plan unless Pisaeng did the same, unwittingly leading his executioner to his own doorstep.

But Pisaeng shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. I haven't communicated with them at all since I got my assignment. They should have no clue where to find me.”

A fresh gush of blood drips down Pisaeng’s hands then, distracting Kawi from his racing thoughts, and with a gulp, he says, “We need to get away. We have to hide, we-”

But his words are obscured by a thunderous crash, a deafening clink resounding through the room as the glass of their windows shatters into pieces, letting in a harsh gust of air, and a person swinging in on a rope, wearing the same tactical gear as the woman who's now bursting through the door as well, her rifle at the ready.

“The pantry,“ Pisaeng chokes out, and then they run with their arms slung around each other as a hail of bullets rains down on them, barely able to dodge them as the meagre remains of their belongings explode around them. Kawi wheezes under Pisaeng's weight, dragging him into the cramped room and slamming the door shut behind them, then piles up as many boxes and bags as he can reach in a hopeless attempt to fortify their position.

“It won’t hold for long,” Pisaeng grunts, gasping for breath as he sinks against the shelves. Kawi is by his side in a heartbeat, crouching down next to him and pressing a stack of napkins to his wound to stop the bleeding, his mind torn between worrying for his husband and the unknown number of assailants assembling outside the door, their voices already permeating the wood.

“We can’t get out of here,” Kawi says, his voice rising in pitch when he realises the depth of Pisaeng’s wound. “We have one loaded pistol and are half naked. And you’re injured, and-”

“Open the top cabinet,” Pisaeng chokes out, taking the paper towels Kawi is currently unwinding and ripping them off.

“What?” Kawi asks, puzzled as to how their snack stash could help them now of all times.

“Open the top cabinet,” Pisaeng insists. “The left one.”

Kawi does as he's told, getting up on his tiptoes to reach for the door handle. Inside, he finds old shopping bags crumpled up into a pile, but when he pulls them out, they reveal a hidden case, slender and silver and unmistakably made to hold weapons.

“Surprised you never found it, since you rummage through here so often,” Pisaeng chuckles, wrapping his stomach with the kitchen towels as a makeshift bandage.

"This is not the time to tease me!” Kawi scowls, loading the guns with quick hands before helping Pisaeng back to his feet. He presses a Glock into Pisaeng’s hands, looking him over quickly and glad to see that he seems a little more stable, be it from pure determination. And then he jumps as bullets start hitting the wood behind him, crowding Pisaeng back against the wall and positioning himself in front of him.

“We need a plan," Kawi says, trying to clear his head to think but finding himself increasingly frenzied.

"This is not the time to make a to-do list," Pisaeng hisses back as yet another round of bullets pelts against the door, light now beginning to filter through the chipped down wood. "If they kill us here, we’re dead for good."

"Oh, so we'll just run out with our eyes closed and shoot at whatever moves?" Kawi half-shouts, growing hysterical when he sees that the door is close to bursting.

"That's the idea," Pisaeng confirms, yanking back the slide of his gun to put a bullet under tension.

"Pisaeng, I swear to god-" Kawi tries to protest, but Pisasng cuts him off, speaking quickly as he looks at him with a grim face.

"I have a storage unit at the harbour. It’s just a garage, but I keep my old car and some rifles there. They shouldn't know it exists. If we make it there, you can make all the plans you want, okay?" Then he reaches out, grabbing the nape of Kawi's neck. "Trust me, Kawi."

His eyes are pleading, begging Kawi to follow his lead this once without arguing, and Kawi can’t deny him that trust and has no other options. So with a quick nod, he says, "If you get us killed, I'll murder you,” squeezing Pisaeng’s hand.

"I'm not planning to," Pisaeng replies and kicks over the makeshift barricade.

He motions for Kawi to stand back, both of them pressing themselves against the shelves, projectiles now hitting the back wall of the pantry. Pisaeng points upwards, then grabs as many cans from the shelves as he can, and Kawi emulates him, loading his arms with tins as they wait for the fire to subside. Finally, with one last, staunch nod, Pisaeng pushes the doors open, and both of them hurl the canisters at their opponents before they can make a move, dispersing them through the room.

“Run!” Pisaeng shouts, and they charge forward, shooting their way through the group of six or seven masked figures that are scrambling to regroup, knocking them over with their shoulders and elbows before they can open fire once more. They make it halfway to the door before the first shot falls, missing Kawi by only a smidge, and Pisaeng shoves him forward and through the doorway, turning around to fire into the wave of agents chasing them, his back turned to Kawi to shield him. He hits two of them, their bodies spasming in the barrage before they sag to the ground, but a third one makes it through, aiming his rifle at Pisaeng, whose own is now empty. He’s still inside the flat, just a few metres from the door, making a laughably easy target for the man in front of him who takes aim again. With a shout, Kawi runs back inside, grabbing Pisaeng’s arm to pull him aside and landing a bullet right between the guy’s eyes, then taking aim at the woman, but missing her when she ducks and rolls out of his line of fire.

In the moment it takes her to pick herself up, Pisaeng yanks him backwards, pushing the coat rack next to the door onto the floor in front of them before slamming it shut, and Kawi grabs his hand as they run into the emergency staircase, their pursuers already close on their heels again.

“Where did you leave?” Pisaeng pants out, his face pain-stricken and his breath laboured.

“The lobby,” Kawi replies, half carrying Pisaeng as they fly down the stairs. “You?”

“Garage,” Pisaeng grunts as they reach the ground floor, where one door leads to the entry hall and another flight of stairs leads to the underground garage. “We meet there, in our present. It’ll give us a bit of time.”

“Unless they’re there already,” Kawi cautions, his head whipping up at the sound of voices getting precariously close. “Let's go.”

But Pisaeng stops him, his hand catching Kawi's wrist before he can escape. “Kawi, I lo-” 

His words are cut short by a new wave of shots echoing off the white, sterile walls around them, and Pisaeng lets go of Kawi, turning around to shoot at the first agent running down the stairs. “GO!"

Kawi pushes the door open and dashes into the lobby, turning his wristwatch to return to his own time, vertigo capturing him immediately. But just as the room begins to fragment around him, a scream echoes through the staircase, and he whips around again, taking a step forward to get back to the door, back to Pisaeng, but his mind stays behind, his consciousness separating from the body he can now see standing in front of him. The whirl sucks him in, colours and sounds swirl around him and through him, and then he's staring at the closed elevator doors once more, back in his jeans with the various aches in his body gone, and his hands not tinted red anymore. But he's alone; the lobby is deserted, save for the reception clerk lazily scrolling through his phone. 

Kawi turns on his heel and sprints out the front door, around the building, and down into the garage, jumping over the gate without stopping. His vision is a tunnel, dread taking hold of him as he hastes along the bays in search of Pisaeng's sleek, black BMW. But when he finds it, Kawi's heart stutters to a halt in his chest.

Pisaeng is there in his carseat, his eyes closed with his chin against his chest, unmoving, and Kawi can't reach him, the doors firmly locked and unyielding no matter how hard he yanks at them. It's been minutes since Kawi jumped, and Pisaeng should be here with him by now, but Kawi left him in the line of fire, left him behind even though he was slowed down by his injury, left him alone and defenceless to fend for himself when Kawi put his own safety over his and abandoned him. Desperately, he calls out his name, his fists drumming against the window, looking down at Pisaeng's motionless body and knowing that he can't hear him. He's either still several years in the past or, worse, already not in this world anymore.

He feels tears burning against his eyelids, and his knuckles split, leaving bloody tracks on the glass that won’t budge, begging, “Please, please, please, I can't lose you, not now, not like this, not when I-"

Pisaeng’s eyes fly open and his head shoots up, and Kawi's knees give out, sinking to the concrete as relief tangles with compunction.

“I'm okay, darling. I'm okay,” Pisaeng comforts him as he jumps out of the car, crouching down next to Kawi and pressing him against his chest. “They almost caught me, but I managed to get away. I'm alright.”

“You scared me so much,” Kawi wails at the same time as he clutches at Pisaeng's back, having to reassure himself that he's here, and real, and breathing.

“I'm sorry,” Pisaeng whispers, running his hands soothingly over Kawi's head and back, and Kawi wonders why he’s the one apologising when Kawi is the one who wasn’t by his side. But he doesn’t have time to grapple with the fear he felt or the guilt that poisons his mind, because Pisaeng is already pulling him back to his feet, his face hard and imploring.

“I need you to focus, Kawi. We need to move. I'm pretty sure they'll follow us here."

Kawi just nods, rubbing the unshed tears out of his eyes with the back of his hands, still feeling dazed from emotional exhaustion, but he follows Pisaeng anyway, allowing him to drag him back to the exit.

"We can't walk," Kawi states, looking back at the limousine, whose door is still open and the cockpit light still turned on. "Pisaeng, that's too dangerous; they'll catch us within minutes."

“We can't take my car, either," Pisaeng replies, tugging at Kawi's hand when they reach the outside and pulling into the direction of the road. "It has a tracker and transmits my location directly to the agency.”

"So that's how they found us," Kawi mumbles, then does a double take when Pisaeng raises his arm, waving for a green and yellow combi.

“Wait, you want to take a tax?!” Kawi asks in bewilderment, giving Pisaeng a half-hearted glare because this sounds like the most suicidal plan he could possibly think of.

“That's what I did back there,” Pisaeng replies, his mouth set in a grim line. "Let's hope I survive."

Kawi wants to protest, wants to demand Pisaeng rethink this forlorn plan, but he promised to trust him, and when he looks over his shoulder towards the door to their apartment building, he sees dark shadows moving behind the glass and growing larger. Without another complaint, he follows Pisaeng.

“To the harbour. I'll pay you double if you don't ask questions,” Pisaeng says as they drop into the backseat, both of them looking out the back window to check for their pursuers that are now stepping onto the sidewalk. “And make it fast.”

The driver just shrugs, turning the metre on and driving off towards the city highway that's gladly not busy at this time of the day. The skyline races past them as they zigzag through the traffic, bright afternoon sunshine sparkling on the Chao Praya River as they cross over a bridge, but Kawi’s eyes are stuck on the rearview mirror, kneading his hands in his lap and suspicious of every black limousine that appears behind them. Next to him, Pisaeng takes a gun out of his back pocket to check the magazine, and their driver squawks loudly, his eyes frightened and his face suddenly pale when he looks over his shoulder.

“Hey, hey, hey, you didn't say anything about guns!” he yells, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.

“Keep quiet, and you have nothing to worry about,” Pisaeng replies dismissively, turning until his knees are bracketed against the seat and he can prop his elbows on the headrest like a sniper stand, his eyes squinted and focused on the following traffic, scanning it for a threat. Kawi looks at him, at the hardened lines of his face and the determination in his eyes, stunned by his cold, professional demeanour but simultaneously intensely attracted to it. This is a new side of Pisaeng that he doesn't mind meeting in the slightest.

At the same moment, an engine rears behind them, and Kawi tears his eyes off Pisaeng, directing them back to the road instead, where two motorbikes are now riding right behind them, both carrying two people dressed in black and wearing sturdy helmets and bulletproof vests.

“They're here,” Pisaeng says darkly, then addresses the driver: “Triple pay if you get us out of here alive. Expect a rocky ride, though."

“Who are you people?!” The poor cabby croaks out, his foot pushing the pedal down to full throttle.

“Mr. and Mr. Jirawarakul, pleased to meet you," Kawi says in the most polite tone he can muster, ignoring the man's feverish prayers that are now falling from his lips as the first bullet ricochets off the bumper. “And we're having a shit day."

He pulls out his gun just as one of the motorcycles pulls up next to them, breaking and accelerating until the person on the back is lining up with Kawi's window. He can't see their eyes through the visor of the helmet, but he feels it when they meet his eyes, their invisible gaze penetrating and intense as they raise a shotgun at Kawi, who barely has enough time to slam Pisaeng down against the seat before it bursts through the window and exists through the other, glass hailing down on them. Lying on his back, Kawi shoots out the now empty window hole, missing their assailants, but he can hear the screeching of tyres, telling him they're falling back to avoid his bullets.

“Get in the trunk!” Kawi orders, yanking the lever that allows him to fold up the seats, then sliding over them and into the trunk of the car. "We can aim better from there."

Pisaeng understands and follows him, the two of them tangling their legs together in the cramped space to anchor each other against the walls.

"Aim for the wheels; I'll try to take out the other driver,” Pisaeng instructs him. “On three. One, two-"

He yanks the boot lid open, the car swerving rapidly as a gust if wind catches on it, but Kawi keeps his hands steady, firing at the wheels of the bike closest to them, the tyre bursting and making it skid off the road where it crashes into the guard rail. At almost the same time, the other rider is sniped off his saddle, crashing on the asphalt, and rolling into the oncoming traffic.

“Got them!" Kawi yells triumphantly, ready to slump back into his seat, but a Jeep appears in the middle lane, two people leaning out the windows with big semi-automatics aimed directly at them.

“Not quite,” Pisaeng discerns grimly, and with mind-boggling speed, he springs up to grab the edge of the trunk door, pulling it down just in time to ward off a fresh storm of bullets pelting against the metal, both of them pressing each other down to find cover.

“Shit,” Kawi hisses, patting along his jacket in search of ammunition, but he didn't take any with him, not expecting to fight for his life in his own timeline when he left it. “I ran out of ammo. I have no idea how we'll get rid of them.”

Pisaeng grunts in frustration, peeking through the window just as the car is rear-ended, the much larger jeep crashing into them and throwing them against the backs of the front seats. A second later, they are tossed to the other side, Kawi rolling on top of Pisaeng when the driver yanks his wheel around and hits the brakes, the car slithering around in a half-circle before speeding off in the other direction.

“I'm driving back into the city,” the man announces, his voice shaky but determined. “Easier to lose them in heavy traffic.”

“I might have a better job for you,” Pisaeng yells back over the ruckus, then smirks at Kawi, his eyes glimmering with excitement. But Kawi grins back at him just as wickedly, pecking Pisaeng's lips.

“You're enjoying this, aren't you?” He murmurs, looking down at him through his lashes.

“So do you,” Pisaeng replies in a low voice, holding onto Kawi's hips. And Kawi can't deny the thrill buzzing through him or the fact that, in some strange, twisted way, this—fighting alongside Pisaeng—feels very close to fun .

They haste through the city at breakneck speed, their driver running several red lights and crisscrossing from one lane to the other, the honking and yelling of outraged drivers and pedestrians following them, but the jeep can't be seen in the rearview mirror, and eventually, they slow down when they reach the river, passing along warehouses and factories.

“You can drop us off here,” Pisaeng tells the driver at the edge of a container depot in the grimiest part of the port, throwing him a stack of money at least four times the amount on the metre as soon as the car comes to a stop. “And here's my card. Send the repair bill to my office. They'll cover the damages.”

“‘Aight,” the man grunts out, pale as a sheet but grinning like a madman. “Call me if you need another ride."

When he drives off, his car is dented and looks precariously similar to a sieve.

Kawi follows Pisaeng as they briskly walk along the riverbank, looking over their shoulders and checking every gap and every nook in case someone is already expecting them here. But they reach the blue container Pisaeng indicates without being attacked, the thing looking as weathered and inconspicuous as the ones surrounding it. Kawi half expects a full secret command central inside, hoping for some cutting-edge technology Pisaeng hid from him to give them the answer to their misery. But when Pisaeng yanks the rusty, squeaking doors open, he finds himself in a disappointingly average storage unit. Pisaeng's old Mini is parked here, covered in years of dust; the walls are lined with high shelves holding boxes and weapon cases, and in a corner stands a narrow, rickety desk with an old, tattered chair in front of it. Kawi lets out a discontented huff.

“Glock or Beretta?” Pisaeng asks, already pulling down a line of silver cases off the shelves and lining them up in the middle of the small room.

“The second,” Kawi replies, catching the handgun Pisaeng throws at him mid-air, then helping him by opening up the cases. It's not much, just a set of knives, a machine gun, two pistols, and a bunch of ammunition, but Kawi feels safer now that he's armed once more, allowing himself a second to breathe and roll his neck where a kink is currently radiating a headache into his skull.

"Where do we go from here?" Pisaeng asks, leaning against the desk with an exhausted sigh.

"I have no idea," Kawi admits. "If we fly, they'll follow us. If we drive out in the open, they'll trail us. If we stay here, they'll catch up with us." His headache intensifies, now pounding behind his eyes as he tries to come up with a plan. But everything feels desperate, each plan he follows through in his mind ending in death—Pisaeng's, his own, or both of theirs—his desperation growing until it becomes oppressive.

"We could take a boat, I guess..." Kawi starts again, scrunching up his face. "Hide in a shipping container, and maybe... I don't know. I can't think."

Pisaeng walks over to him then, taking Kawi's head between his hands, his thumbs massaging gentle circles into his temples.

Kawi chuckles at his gesture, leaning into Pisaeng's touch. "How do you know I have a headache?" 

"Because of the way you scrunched up your nose," Pisaeng replies as if that should be obvious, as if Kawi is just an open, familiar book he knows by heart. "Relax, darling," he whispers, placing a drawn-out, soft kiss on his forehead. "We can rest for a minute."

Kawi wants to believe him, nuzzling his cheek into Pisaeng's palm and feeling suddenly overwhelmingly grateful and fond of the man in front of him. He wants to say as much, to thank him for saving his life, and to tell him what he hasn't said in months now. But a voice interrupts his thoughts, so close behind them that both of them whip back around with their guns held out before them, Pisaeng stepping in front of Kawi as their eyes adjust to the bright glare from outside.

"You're working for two top-notch assassin agencies, yet I can track you via Google Maps."

When Kawi realises who it belongs to, he pushes Pisaeng aside and runs to the doorway.

"I don't know how you survived for so long," Max says, sounding disappointed before letting out a humph when Kawi throws his arms around him. “That's basic training-level stuff.”

"Max?!” Pisaeng yelps, sounding so befuddled that Kawi barks out a laugh. “What are you doing here?"

"Long story,” Max replies as he untangles himself from Kawi’s embrace, holding up a carrier bag, and walks over to the scratched-up table in the corner where he takes out his laptop. “Short version: I'm Kawi's spotter. And you, my friends, are fucked, because there's a bounty on your head bigger than anything I've seen before." 

“How much?” Pisaeng asks, taking the revelation that his friend of over a decade is also an agent in stride and with admirable sobriety.

“500 million,” Max informs them casually, and Kawi gasps, half scared by the implications of that sum, half indignant that he was never paid anything close to this.

Next to him, Pisaeng groans and runs his hand over his face. "Why, though?" he wonders, his eyes turning suspicious. "We didn't finish our assignments, but they're usually more discreet when it comes to eliminating their own agents. And we still have a couple hours until the two days are over."

"It's a set up," Max says curtly, furiously tapping on his keyboard as a bunch of files open and arrange on the screen.

At his words, Kawi’s heart falls with a painful jolt. "What are you talking about?" he asks, looking between Pisaeng and Max.

Max's brows draw together, and he groans in annoyance as he steadily types away on his keyboard, as if Kawi's asking questions is disturbing his workflow. "They found out you're married when Mrs. Jirawarakul's security lock ran out. They teamed up, then put you both on the same fake job so you'd take each other out. The whole Sary mission was a stitch-up. Only just found out. Top-level security."

"How?" Pisaeng inquires, sounding as confused and enraged as Kawi feels.

In reply, Max shrugs. "Oh, you know, I was bored, did some snooping, hacked a few servers for fun…" 

"You were on time-out," Kawi reminds him, his brain trying to process the information, but it just tangles up more the longer he thinks.

Max gives him a look that says, "As if that could stop me." Then he continues, "Also, I was sceptical of how they got all of this information on Pisaeng in such a short time. You don't usually find an agent's data within a few hours. That takes days of hacking and decoding."

"Did you know about me all those years?" Pisaeng asks, squinting at Max with suspicious eyes.

"Nope. But I can't deny that your reflexes have always seemed suspicious to me. I also wondered where you got those abs from when you said you worked in an office," Max says, with a pointed once-over across Pisaeng's body. Kawi smacks the back of his head a little too forcefully.

"Stop ogling my husband," he snaps, then grumbles out an apology because Max isn’t to blame for his anger. At least not all of it.

Max just rubs the back of his head and gives Kawi a glare, his voice taunting as he says, "You didn't make much use of him in the past, according to your therapist's report."

Kawi blanches, then turns crimson, all within the span of half a second, tops. "How do you know that?"

"It's in your file; I stumbled upon it when I surveyed it," Max explains, turning back to his computer to show them their case file. "Your every move is in there—every phone call, every purchase, every doctor's visit. They started digging on you a few months ago. It matches the time when they found out about you two, so I guess they looked for a weak spot."

Their entire life is laid out on the screen: from official, government-issued documents to vacations they took in the past five years, where and when they went to dinner, their credit card information, and even photos they took with their phones. It's an unbearable exposition of their privacy, and Kawi is acutely and horrifically reminded of that afternoon in Jane’s office, just two days ago, when they showed him a small fragment of this and sent him out to murder his husband. They gave him so much information then, private ones that should’ve led them straight to their doorstep while feigning ignorance, and Kawi understands now that it was a threat, a silent reminder of how much they can do without giving the plot away, while Kawi was too focused on the revelation about Pisaeng to detect it. Anger boils up in his stomach, but it's a different rage than the one he experienced over Pisaeng. This one feels cold and calculated. He trusted the agency, and he trusted Jane, and even though she was always harsh and unforgiving, Kawi looked up to her as a mentor, the woman who turned his boring life around and who he thought would always have his back in the end. Now, he realises he was just a tool to be discarded by her once it loses its utility.

"I'm going to kill them," he grinds out, his hands balling into fists by his side.

"That's the spirit!” Max says cheerily, turning back around to face them. “And your only way out. I suggest you split up to-"

"No," they both say in unison as Pisaeng grabs Kawi’s wrist and gives it a squeeze while Kawi steps closer to his side.

"I figured," Max responds, his mouth twitching up as he looks down on their entwined hands. "So I came up with a plan B."

"Max, if you help us, there'll be a number on your head as well," Pisaeng cautions. "You're already risking your life by being here."

"Please,” Max says with a quirked brow, sounding offended. “I covered my tracks physically, digitally, and in time. No one knows I'm here. Officially, I'm currently on a small-scale recon mission to get the blueprints for a server room at JPMorgan Chase. They have no idea I had them on file for two years now."

"You're scary," Pisaeng mutters, sounding equally disturbed and impressed.

"Thank you," Max chirps with a grin. "Anyway, I overrode the security protocols for a safe house in the Kanchanaburi mountains. If you can get there, there are enough weapons and ammunition to wage war on a small country. I can't help you travel there, though. The entire car pool is in use right now, and even I can't hijack a plane for you. Not that I didn't try."

"Shit," Kawi breathes out, seeing their options and chances of survival dwindling. "If we drive there, we're an open target. And without a bullet-proof car, we stand no chance. I don’t assume you tuned the mini by any chance?" he asks Pisaeng hopefully, eyeing the small vehicle that looks disappointingly normal.

"Pearmai," Pisaeng simply says, taking out his phone and quickly tapping on the screen.

"What do you mean , Pearmai?" Kawi demands, but Pisaeng merely winks at him before turning his back to Kawi to make his call.

"Looks like all of us kept some secrets," Max comments, sounding way less surprised than this particular revelation would demand.

***** 

"I can't believe this," Kawi mutters over the roaring rotor of the helicopter they're sitting in—a helicopter currently flown by one Pearmai, her aviator glasses perched on the bridge of her nose, and her hair pulled back into an immaculate ponytail.

"I only work part-time at the agency,” she explains over the intercom, her voice blaring through Kawi's headphones. “I consider it more of a hobby, really."

"That's a pretty dangerous hobby to have!"

Pear merely shrugs. "I didn't want to limit myself to working at a gallery. It gets boring, Kawi."

In a way, Kawi sees her point, but he won't admit that now that he feels betrayed and left out. Instead, he wonders, "When did you even get a pilot's licence?"

"Do you remember when I lived in Paris?" Pear asks, making air quotes with her free hand around the last three words. "I did basic training back then, and they quickly figured out I had a talent for flying."

"Does James know about this?" Kawi presses further, thinking of her kind, gentle husband, who doesn't seem the type for this kind of job. Then again, neither did Pisaeng.

In reply, Pear chuckles. "How do you think we met?"

"At an art exhibition in Seoul?"

"It wasn't an exhibition," Pear provides, sharing a smirk with Pisaeng through the mirror above the control panels.

"Is Kwan working for you as well?” Kawi asks, his voice getting more agitated. “Not? Fluke?"

"No, Kwan is my gallery assistant for real,” Pear explains, her fingers running quickly along one of the interfaces in front of her. “Not applied, but he didn't make the cut, so we went back to alter his memories. He doesn't remember a thing. My dad is the head physician for our agents, though. Pisaeng's mother hired him when she founded the agency."

"My life is a lie," Kawi mutters, sinking further into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest with a pout.

Next to him, Pisaeng turns around with raised, disbelieving brows. “Look who's talking."

"Where's the honesty in this marriage?” Kawi demands, knowing full well that he has no room to talk, but feeling like complaining anyway. “How many more bodies are you hiding in the basement?"

At this, Pisaeng's grin turns complacent. “71. Best head count in the agency. Ever."

Kawi snorts. "125. Give or take a few. I stopped counting henchmen."

"I… you…" Pisaeng splutters, looking at Kawi with wide, shocked eyes.

"That's what careful planning and strategy get you," Kawi brags, grinning smugly at Pisaeng and revelling in the fact that he bested him in his own game.

"Can you stop bickering for two minutes?” Pear interrupts, her brows raised high and a smile playing around her lips. “We need to plan for your jump."

"Jump?” Kawi asks, a little confused. “What do you mean by jump?"

"You have to parachute out of the heli. I can't land in the middle of a forest; all I can do for you is get you as close to the location as possible and find a flat surface to drop you off," Pearmai explains, giving him a sympathetic look before adding, "I also only have one parachute on board. I thought you should know."

Kawi thinks she's joking. He wishes she's joking. But when his eyes run along the rails beneath the roof of the helicopter, he notices a khaki canvas sack, one that he recognises as a parachute bag. His heart drops to his stomach. "Pear, I might be getting hunted down by professional killers right now, but I'm not ready for a suicide mission."

"Don't worry, Pisaeng is an excellent skydiver," she says reassuringly, but Kawi doesn't feel even the slightest bit calmed by it.

"I don't do parachutes!” He yells so loudly that it's audible over the noise of the helicopter. “You know I'm afraid of heights! I don't even go on a roller coaster!"

By his side, Pisaeng scoots closer, taking his hand that is clawing into his thighs. "I won't let anything happen to you."

“It’s not you I’m worried about! It’s the damn parachute!”

He argues with them all the way across the countryside, begging for Pear to land at the foot of the mountain ( “That would be a three-day hike.” ) or for Pisaeng to jump on his own and let Kawi catch up with him (a firm “No” that leaves no room for argument). But neither of them budge, and Kawi feels like he's steadily flying towards an untimely and frankly pathetic death while an army of decidedly too large insects crawls through his stomach and makes him sick. Until finally, Kawi finds himself at the edge of the open cargo door, Pisaeng standing in front of him as he straps the backpack around his torso with practiced hands.

“One minute!” Pear shouts, circling the helicopter over a vast, lush green jungle.

“Roger. I'm ready,” Pisaeng confirms as he fastens the last strap and checks each of them for a final time.

But Kawi doesn't feel close to ready—not in the slightest. “I can't!” he screams, grabbing the handles above the opening as he stares over Pisaeng's shoulder into the abyss hundreds of metres below him. “I can't do it, Pisaeng. Please, we need to find a different way. Please!"

He's almost crying now, more terrified than he's been even once in the past few days, wanting to turn around and sit back down, yet his feet won't move, his knees so weak he fears he'll fall if he tries to take a single step in either direction.

At his panicked voice, Pisaeng turns around, grabbing Kawi's wrist. "Hey," he mumbles, stepping close. "Don't be scared. Just hold my hand, alright? It'll be okay."

He slots their fingers together, his other hand sliding over Kawi's back as he leans in to kiss him, his lips soft and gentle against Kawi's, who squeezes his eyes shut and tries to calm his nerves, breathing in deeply through his nose as he grabs Pisaeng's shoulder, his fingers twisting into his jacket in a vice grip while the others dig into Pisaeng's palm.

But before his heart can stop galloping away from him, before he can even return Pisaeng's kiss, Pisaeng tightens his hold on Kawi and leans backwards, and Kawi shrieks as they freefall towards the ground, air whipping around them so loudly that it tunes out the rotor of Pear's helicopter and his own shouts.

“Don't let go!” Pisaeng yells, putting Kawi's hand that he held on his shoulder, then hoisting up his thighs, and Kawi clings to him as hard as he can, his stomach turning when he sees the tree crowns speeding closer.

They'll crash, he thinks; they'll smash to the ground or get impaled on a branch, and then the mountain lions will eat their rotting corpses. He'd take a clean-cut assassination over this any day, and he tells Pisaeng as much, babbling on between panicked screeches, who doesn't seem to listen to him as he spreads his arms out and flips them around mid-air. Kawi's back is now turned to the ground while the helicopter still circling above them turns into a toy model, and his brain shuts down completely. He buries his face in Pisaeng's neck, praying frantically to every deity he can recall in case one of them is tuning in right now, while simultaneously cursing Pisaeng in the crudest way he can think of, feeling so sick that he's certain he'll vomit all over Pisaeng's suit.

There's a jerk at some point, the whooshing in his ears receding and the whipping air growing milder, but Kawi doesn't notice it, feeling somewhere outside of his body—maybe still in the helicopter, or maybe he died in the other time, or maybe, hopefully, please God , this is all just a very awful dream that he'll wake up from, and he'd like to wake up any second now.

When he does, it's from splashing water, drenching him as his back hits something hard that knocks the air out of him once more, and Pisaeng's weight squeezes his lungs before his vision goes black.

“Am I dead yet?” Kawi asks blearily, his eyes still screwed shut as he's waiting for the light to show up and the pearly gates to open before him, but instead he sees Pisaeng’s face when he blinks his lids open, who's grinning down at him with his hair plastered to his face and his cheeks ruddy.

"I'd say this didn't go half bad, all things considered," he says, squeezing Kawi tightly as he brushes the wet strands out of his face.

Above them, a canopy of leaves sways gently in the breeze, and as his brain slowly reboots, Kawi realises he's lying in a creek, half submerged by cool water and covered by the parachute that's lying soaked on top of them.

Then he raises his hand and smacks Pisaeng's chest, whacking him twice, three, four times as he yells at him, "If you ever do this to me again, I'm getting a divorce!!"

"I consider that progress," Pisaeng replies with a shrug, getting up with a groan and loosening the harness around his body as if he didn't just force Kawi into a death fall.

“And what do you mean by that, huh?” Kawi snaps, trying to sit up, but he slips on the wet stone underneath his hands and falls again, a fresh gush of water spilling into his shoes and pants.

Pisaeng, on his end, has the audacity to laugh. "Twenty-four hours ago, you wanted to kill me. Now you merely consider separation. I count this as a win."

“You could've gotten rid of me, but you didn't, so tough luck!” Kawi keeps nagging, sticking his tongue out at Pisaeng. Finally, he manages to get up on his feet, feeling that his legs are still a bit shaky, but Pisaeng is already walking off in the direction of the forest, leaving a soggy Kawi and a soggier parachute behind.

"Pisaeng! Hey, Pisaeng, wait for me! You can't just walk away from this argument," Kawi yells after him, wading through the shallow water until he gets to the shore and on thankfully firm ground.

Pisaeng glances back over his shoulder. "We're arguing?"

"Well, we're not exactly flirting, are we?"

"I don't know,” Pisaeng says, an infuriating grin on his lips. “You're sexy when you're mad at me. And cute."

"I'll give you cute," Kawi grumbles, running to catch up with Pisaeng and raising his hand to whack his arm.

But Pisaeng catches it mid-air, pulling Kawi against him with a sly grin until the tips of their nose bump against each other, and Kawi feels an all-too-familiar prickle on his spine.

"Good reflexes, remember," Pisaeng murmurs, so close that his breath tickles along Kawi's lips.

His lashes are clumped together, the light filtering through the leaves dancing across his face, and when Kawi looks down, he sees the outline of Pisaeng's chest through his wet shirt, his nipples hardened from the cold. The conscious part of Kawi's brain acknowledges that this is likely the worst possible moment to get turned on by this. His body decidedly disagrees, and he gulps, looking back up into Pisaeng's knowing eyes.

"Keep moving," he murmurs, pushing Pisaeng's hand away and winding out of his hold as a blush tints his cheek various shades of pink, then stalks past him into the thicket, Pisaeng chuckling behind him as he follows.

It's a steep, uphill climb from the stream into the deep, lush jungle. Kawi's pants get torn and his calves scratched up from the thorns and stick to his feet, but each time he stumbles, Pisaeng is there to catch his fall, dragging him along through the depths of the forest, his eyes vigilantly scanning the surrounding area. They're unarmed once more, their jump not allowing them to carry much with them, safe for a knife Kawi has still strapped to his ankle, and a half-loaded Glock Pisaeng stuffed into the waistband of his pants before they jumped. But night is falling fast around them, the darkness of the forest becoming so thick and impenetrable that Kawi might as well be blind, only small, distorted slivers of moonlight illuminating their path. He knows there are smugglers in this area, hiding drugs in the woods, as well as mountain lions, and each crack and groan he hears makes him jump, his neck prickling as if he's being watched. 

It feels like they walked for hours, and his stomach is growling now, his throat parched and burning as he pants, the mist of the cool, cloudy night clinging to his skin and making him shiver in his already wet clothes.

“I'm cold,” he complains. “And tired. And my feet hurt."

Pisaeng pauses where he's walking ahead to clear a path for Kawi, but the ground remains uneven, with roots and stones jutting out of the soft, slippery ground, making Kawi stumble after him.

“I think we should be close,” Pisaeng says, waiting for Kawi to catch up with him. He, too, is breathing hard and trembling.

“ I think we're lost,” Kawi moans, his calves burning with exhaustion and dragging his feet. “We've been walking for hours. And there's no signal here, so don't pretend you have GPS."

When he reaches a large slab of stone covered in moss and likely crawling with bugs, Kawi drops down on it, bending forward to catch his breath and not caring that he's probably getting swarmed by ants.

Wordlessly, Pisaengs walks back over to him, kneeling down in front of Kawi with his back to him. "Come on, I'll carry you."

"No, you need to conserve energy. I can walk; it's fine," Kawi insists, pouty and snappish, but his knees ache so terribly when he tries to stand up that he slumps down again, too tired and drained to continue. "Go to the house. I'll catch up with you,” he says, feeling disappointed and annoyed at himself that he's not tough enough for this hike.

But Pisaeng vehemently shakes his head. "I'm not leaving you behind."

"Stop playing the hero, Pisaeng," Kawi snarls, glaring at the back of his head.

With a sigh, Pisaeng turns around to face him, his hands coming up to rest on Kawi's knees. "I'm not," he says, his voice patient and soft. "But if anything happened to you out here because I didn't protect you, I could never forgive myself."

He's looking into Kawi's eyes now, his gaze so sincere and worried that Kawi feels it like a caress over his battered body, and guilt knots his stomach. He always does that, Kawi realises, paying Pisaeng's kindness back with sarcasm and snark and letting him be the bumper for his frustrations.

"Alright,” Kawi mumbles and sniffles, making a face just for show, but his hands are already reaching out to hold onto Pisaeng's shoulders. “If you insist."

“I do,” Pisaeng confirms, turning back around and picking Kawi up, slower and more strenuous than he usually would, and Kawi bites his lip against the onslaught of shame he feels.

“Thank you,” he mumbles as Pisaeng starts to walk again, his steps slow and laboured. “And I'm sorry for snapping at you. I'm just-"

“Hungry,” Pisaeng says knowingly, chuckling under his breath. “I know.”

At his words, Kawi smiles and drops his head to Pisaeng's shoulder, turning it inward to place a gentle kiss on his jaw. This man knows him all too well.

They walk for another ten minutes, twenty, thirty maybe—Kawi lost track of time. But eventually, the ground starts to even out and the thicket gets thinner, a trampled path winding up and around the ragged mountain before them, and when they follow it, they arrive at a cleared meadow where a flat-roofed, slate grey structure is nestled against the mountain wall, the front side covered entirely in tall windows.

Pisaeng's gait is shaky when he walks the final few metres to the front door, leaning against the wall as he punches the code into the panel next to it, and he sways on their way inside, bent over and his hands slipping on Kawi's thighs. He drops Kawi onto a low bench across the door, sat between a mirror and a narrow closet, then sits down next to him, stretching his legs out and massaging his knees.

"We have to secure the building,” he says, exhaustion colouring his voice. “Max said the main control unit is in the basement, but I'll have to check the perimeters in case they came here already."

When he tries to get back up, Kawi grabs his shoulder. “Let me,” he says gently, pushing Pisaeng back down into his seat. “You carried me all the way up here. Rest for a bit. Take a shower. I'll make sure we're safe.”

With a grateful smile, Pisaeng takes his hand and kisses his knuckles, then presses his forehead against them, breathing in deeply as if Kawi's touch alone could recharge him. “Thank you, darling."

“Anytime,” Kawi replies, even though he knows it wasn't always true in the past.

***** 

When he's finished, he finds Pisaeng in the kitchen, wearing soft flannel pants and a light grey Henley shirt, his hair damp and combed back with a few strands falling out when he bends forward to light a candle. The flickering candle light dips his face in a golden-orange glow, highlighting the curve of his cheekbones and the bow of his lips when he purses them to blow out the matchstick in his hand. Kawi is almost taken aback by how utterly handsome he is.

When Pisaeng notices him, he turns to Kawi with a smile. "I lit up the fireplace to keep our heat signatures and electricity consumption to a minimum. I also found some candles,” he says, giving the one he's holding a little wiggle. “If we keep the shutters closed, we shouldn't be too visible from the outside."

With a little salute, Kawi reports back, "Secured the perimeter, heat detectors and cameras are up and running, and I took the liberty to install some more traditional traps.”

Pisaeng's brows shoot up his forehead. "Like a booby trap?"

"No, more like a shotgun triggered by a motion sensor," Kawi replies, sitting down on one of the kitchen chairs, before admitting, "Which is a rope strung between two trees, but I had to improvise." 

Pisaeng laughs then, putting the candle down and stepping behind Kawi. He guides his head back against his stomach and begins to gently massage Kawi's shoulders with well-practiced hands, and for the first time in days, Kawi's muscles relax, tension seeping out of him as he sinks lower into his seat, feeling tired and years older than he is, but strangely, absurdly, content.

"Do you think we're safe here?" Kawi asks him, groaning when Pisaeng's thumb circles the knot in his neck that has plagued him for days now.

"For now, maybe,” Pisaeng replies gravely. “But we can't stay here forever. I give it a day, maybe two, until they figure out where we are."

"We also can't run forever," Kawi says solemnly, and Pisaeng doesn't reply, but his fingers dig deeper into Kawi's shoulders. Then he bends down, pressing a kiss to the top of Kawi's head.

"I'll make us dinner," he mumbles, walking over to the pantry and rummaging through cupboards. Kawi immediately misses his steadiness and warmth.

"It looks like it'll be instant ramen and canned chickpeas. For the rest of eternity," Pisaeng says, stepping aside to let Kawi take a look at the shelves stacked with the same brand of freeze-dried ramen from top to bottom, like a display in a supermarket. "Fake carbonara or imitation crab flavour?"

"Surprise me," Kawi replies with a chuckle, a fond smile forming on his lips as he watches Pisaeng weigh his options like it's serious business.

Kawi showers as the ramen boils on the stove, hot water pelting down on him, washing the sweat and grime from his skin and melting away the strain in his muscles. He puts on a pyjama he finds in one of the closets, the material soft and comfortable against his skin, then pads downstairs again to meet Pisaeng in the living room that is surrounded by glass, allowing him a glimpse into the vast, thick blackness around them before Pisaeng closes the blinds. Instead of the sleek white leather couch, they sit down in front of the fireplace on a shaggy carpet, a few pillows strewn around to cushion them, and Pisaeng hands him a bowl of colourless, unexciting-looking noodles over which he sprinkled a bit of dried cilantro. Kawi smiles at the effort.

Their knees touch as they huddle close to the heat, both of them still chilled and searching for comfort as they slurp down the cheap food that tastes like nothing. But Kawi makes a show of devouring it with vigour. 

“Ughhh, it's so good,” he moans out, greedily twirling another bunch of noodles around his fork and shaking his lips as he chews them. “Is that ginger I taste? My compliments to the chef. This is the best ramen I ever had.”

Pisaeng chortles out a laugh. “It's jam-packed with preservatives and artificial flavours,” he says with a conspiratorial tone and a raised brow. “But don't reveal my secret. My husband might leave me if he finds someone else to cook for him."

Instead of laughing along, Kawi's stomach suddenly constricts. “He'd be stupid to do that,” he murmurs, serious now as he looks down at his hands. “You take really good care of him.”

“It's my pleasure,” Pisaeng replies sincerely, picking the rehydrated pieces of artificial crab meat out of his own bowl and dropping them into Kawi's instead.

Kawi's heart clenches at the small gesture, a meek, sad smile tugging at his lips as he remembers all the little things Pisaeng always used to do for him and that he never appreciated enough, from sharing his food with him when he was hungry to holding his hand when he was sad.

It's him who should leave Kawi. Surely, he deserves better than an ungrateful husband who gave him nothing but a cold shoulder in the recent past and can't control his temper.

He feels small suddenly, frail and delicate, as he realises his own shortcomings and faults, his shoulders drawing up as he chews on his bottom lip, his ramen discarded. He wonders why Pisaeng even stayed with him, why he remained faithful, and why he allowed Kawi to treat him like this for so long. Maybe it's simple habit that keeps him by Kawi's side; maybe he just gave up looking for something better, settling for Kawi when he finally saw him for what he truly is: casually cruel and selfish.

But then, as if he can hear the deprecating words running through Kawi's mind, Pisaeng says, "I love you, Kawi.”

Kawi's eyes snap up and widen, looking at Pisaeng in astonishment. ‘I love you.’ Not in the past tense, but in the present.

"I lied to you about many things, but never about that,” Pisaeng continues, and his voice is genuine but laced with something painful, something fragile, as he says, “You don't know the lengths I went to to be with you. My mother warned me from the beginning and always cautioned me about maintaining close relationships and getting married while in this business, but I never listened. I told her I'd rather die with you by my side from a bullet than without you from old age.” He huffs out a laugh, his eyes far away as he recalls the memory, and Kawi feels like crying as he listens to him, unable to comprehend how he even deserves any of this. “But she covered for me eventually. She did everything she could to make sure they wouldn't find out about us before she retired from the industry.”

“Do you think she knew about me?” Kawi asks, focusing on the simplest part because he doesn't trust his own voice to hold right now if he tells Pisaeng how he feels. 

“Probably,” Pisaeng muses. “But she never said anything. I guess she does love you more than me.”

They both chuckle quietly, picking at their ramen for a while.

"When they did my background check, we weren't really friends yet,” Kawi says eventually, thinking back to the time when he started his training and Pisaeng was just an annoyingly constant blip on his radar. “You never appeared on any records; there's just a single mention of you as one of my classmates. The comment says "irrelevant".” He scoffs then, wondering how anyone could ever think of Pisaeng in such a way when Kawi has just begun to remember how incredibly wonderful he is.

"Well, I was back then," Pisaeng says in a deprecating tone, but Kawi quickly shakes his head.

"No, not really,” he admits. “You were never irrelevant to me. I just didn't know what I was feeling yet. It took me a while."

"I always knew," Pisaeng tells him in return, sure and certain. "You were it for me, from the very beginning."

“Still tried to kill me though,” Kawi quips, unable to help himself.

Pisaeng shakes his head and chuckles. “I barely made an effort.”

“You stuck a bomb to me,” Kawi deadpans, but there's no heat behind his words. He already forgave him for it.

“Well…” Pisaeng starts. “I could've killed you so easily at any point, but-” He cuts himself off, letting silence linger between them as Kawi waits expectantly.

“But what?” he asks after a moment, graciously overlooking the part where Pisaeng just implied he's the better assassin of the two. But this doesn't feel like the right moment for more banter and bickering.

“I vowed to love and protect you, so how could I be the one to hurt you?” Pisaengs asks, making it sound entirely obvious and simple. “Ever since we met, I just wanted to take care of you. And even if you left me, I'd still do it. I don't know what else to do. It's all I want.”

At his words, Kawi feels an incredible warmth flood through him, almost aching as it trickles from his heart into his stomach. To still be loved like this, so tenderly and devotedly, feels overwhelming in the face of all that has happened between them.

With a hopeful voice, he asks, "Do you think we can fix this?" looking at Pisaeng and searching his eyes for reassurance, for confirmation that he won't give up fighting for Kawi, just like he always did.

But Pisaeng doesn't reply, avoiding Kawi's gaze, and his face contorts into a grimace at his words, the furrow in his brow casting deep trenches into his forehead.

Gently, Kawi probes, "I mean us. Our marriage."

Pisaeng lets out a heavy breath, his jaw tensing and twitching before he speaks, his voice heavy and choked. "I never thought we'd end up like this. The day we went to see the counsellor was probably the worst day of my life. I felt… defeated. Like I failed the most important mission of my life.”

Kawi can see the way his eyes well up and the tip of his nose reddens, a single tear falling free from his lashes and running down his cheek.

"All those years, I just wanted to keep you safe. I lied to and deceived you because I wanted you to have a normal life, even if it was me who was by your side. But I guess that's what tore us apart in the end."

"We're both to blame for this,” Kawi concedes, feeling his own eyes burn and his throat clogging up. “I drew away from you, I lost trust in you, and... I guess I started treating this like a covert mission. Even before I knew about you, I viewed you as a threat in my own home. When it should've been the opposite. I should've remembered that you're my partner, first and foremost."

"I wasn't a good partner to you, though. I stopped making you my priority," Pisaeng says thickly, putting the blame on himself when Kawi knows they should share this burden.

So he reminds him, “And I drew away until we didn't even sleep in the same bed anymore,” searching Pisaeng's eyes in the darkness. "But we decided to fight for us, right? Isn't that a sign that we both still want this, that we didn't lose yet?"

Pisaeng takes his hand then, entwining his fingers with Kawi's against the coldened bowl in his lap, his thumb brushing over the golden band on Kawi's ring finger.

"Hey, remember our vows?” Kawi asks, his heart swelling as he squeezes Pisaeng's fingers and recites the words, “Today, tomorrow, and the day after that, I'll keep holding your hand to weather the storm."

Pisaeng's smile returns then, wet and a little strained, as he wipes the tears off his face. "I never thought it would be a storm of bullets, but I guess I should've read the fine print more thoroughly."

It makes them giggle, and soon they're laughing helplessly, Pisaeng's forehead falling forward and resting against Kawi's temple. It's strange that all of it led them here, Kawi thinks, that the plot to divide them made their bond grow stronger. Kawi tried to hurt him, to kill him, to erase him and them from memory and history. He tore wounds into their hearts that will take time to heal, and he'll have to learn to live with the reality of it. He can't run away from it and hide, but curiously, he doesn't want to. Because right now, at this moment, with a target on his back and a soggy bowl of instant ramen in his hands, Kawi can't think of a place he'd rather be than right here, next to his husband.

"No more secrets?" Pisaeng asks once his laughter subsides, his eyes bright and clear like a spring morning.

"No more secrets," Kawi agrees, twisting his hand until he can link their pinkies together.

Pisaeng nods to himself and clears his throat. Then, with a slight wince, he says, "So... remember the man I introduced as my estranged dad at the wedding?"

In response, Kawi's brow shoots up. "Yes?"

"That was a paid actor. I lost contact with my father as a child, actually," Pisaeng rushes out, his grin turning lopsided and apologetic.

"Oh, thank god,” Kawi groans out, remembering the obnoxious American who bragged about his job, his cars, and the power of his passport. “I couldn't stand him. He was an arrogant prick.”

“He was, wasn't he?” Pisaeng agrees with him. “Did you never wonder how this man could be my father?”

Kawi looks up at the ceiling then, pretending to think. “No, not really. It seemed fitting.”

Pisaeng splutters, and in retaliation, he dips his fork into Kawi's noodles, slurping up a large portion as Kawi's protests and snatches the bowl away from him. Pisaeng chews obnoxiously, looking at Kawi as if he's waiting for him to share a secret of his own in exchange.

"Ehhh…” Kawi stalls, hard-pressed to come up with anything because he's so bad at lying to Pisaeng that he shared everything truthfully, except for the parts he already knows about. Eventually, he provides, “I wasn't technically a virgin when we got together?”

Pisaeng, on his end, pouts, looking disappointed. "I just admitted my dad isn't my dad, and you give me this totally irrelevant information?"

"Is it?” Kawi asks. “I always thought that made it so special when we slept together for the first time.”

"No, it was special because it was with you,” Pisaeng disagrees. “Everyone has a past. We have several. I don't care who you were with before me."

"Well, you're still the first man," Kawi offers, knowing that's the part Pisaeng always felt a little bit proud of.

And as expected, his lips twitch up smugly as he hums, seemingly satisfied. Taking the bowl out of Kawi's hand, he scoots closer until he's behind him, his arms wrapping around his waist and his chin resting on his shoulder.

"I hope I'll be the last, too," he purrs, and Kawi can feel the teasing grin on his lips against his neck as Pisaeng presses a trail of butterfly kisses against it.

"Why are you so corny, ugh?" Kawi groans, half-heartedly trying to twist out of Pisaeng's embrace but melting against him when his lips find the tender spot behind Kawi's ear, his teeth grazing against the skin there.

"I don't care about the past. We don't even know if we'll see another day," Pisaeng whispers, his breath tickling against Kawi's nape and making him shiver. "Let's make the most of this one."

When Kawi looks over his shoulder, Pisaeng's face is just centimetres away from his, his eyes sparkling in the soft golden hue around them. He nuzzles their noses together in a slow, tender drag, returning the smile on Pisaeng's lips before giving in to the insistent fingertips against his jaw and tilting his chin up, allowing Pisaeng to capture his lips.

It's a slow kiss, just a featherlight brush of their lips, with Kawi drawing back playfully, teasing Pisaeng to chase his mouth until he bites Kawi's bottom lip to pull him back in, making his breath hitch. Pisaeng grins, his tongue lapping out to soothe the bite, running along the seam of Kawi's mouth with gentle insistence. And Kawi yields to him, tipping his head back and opening his lips for Pisaeng, a soft, content sigh escaping him when their tongues slide together and Pisaeng's hold around him tightens, pulling Kawi against his chest.
It's a heady feeling to just kiss like this, unhurried and interminable, and even though Kawi knows where it'll lead and what they both want right now, he feels no rush, sinking deeper into Pisaeng's embrace to just savour this moment, allowing the arousal he feels to just simmer low in his stomach.

Pisaeng's hand strokes down his neck, his fingers dipping beneath the collar of his pyjamas to caress his collar bones, then returns to open the top buttons of his shirt with skilful fingers until he can slide his hand inside and reach Kawi's chest. Kawi's pulse quickens under his touch, fluttering against his ribcage when he circles his nipples, and he moans against Pisaeng's mouth, breaking their kiss when Pisaeng takes his hand off him, protesting and arching up to chase the feeling. Pisaeng puts two fingers against his lips instead, looking intently at Kawi as he slides them inside and over his tongue, holding Kawi's gaze as he laps at the digits in his mouth, his tongue following them when Pisaeng holds them out in front of him. Mesmerised, he watches as Pisaeng's pupils widen, his eyes turning deep black and wanton, and he feels himself blush under his gaze, his breath now coming quicker. When Pisaeng's wet fingertips find their way back to his chest, he has to close his eyes, turning his head to muffle his whine against the crook of Pisaeng's neck and his fingers burying themselves into Pisaeng's shirt. His other hand, the one that isn't currently subjecting Kawi to a syrupy sweet kind of torture, slides up to his spine and to his neck, scraping his fingernails along his scalp and grabbing his hair carefully, pulling Kawi's head back to slot their lips together again. His kiss is now hungry and deep as he moves around to straddle Kawi's lap, never ceasing his attention to the various parts of Kawi he's inflicting pleasure on, and when Kawi pulls back and opens his eyes to look at him, his breath hitches at how beautiful he is, his hands coming up to frame his face and his fingers stroking gently over the curve of his brow bone and the angles of his jaw. Kawi feels like he didn't properly look at him in years, as if he forgot the lines and shapes of him, and he’s almost breathless now as his eyes flit over his face, drinking in every detail he can in the scarce light. That's his man, Kawi marvels, the one he chose and who chose him, despite everything, disregarding all of Kawi's flaws and shortcomings, even when he almost let him get away.

“I missed you,” Kawi whispers then, so quietly that he isn't sure Pisaeng heard him.

But Pisaeng answers. “I was always right here, darling."

Kawi can't believe he lost sight of it.

Pisaeng is towering over him, so much so that Kawi needs to tip his head all the way back to kiss him again, but he always felt like there was safety in his height and security in the width of his shoulders, and so he runs his hands up his broad back, pulling him in once more, his lips meeting the dip between Pisaeng's collar bones as Pisaeng's find his temple. His arms circle around Kawi's shoulders, shielding him from the world and lending security to Kawi in a moment where he feels so exposed and vulnerable. Kawi always admired that about him—this strength he finds in the simplicity of loving.

When their lips slot back together, Kawi runs his hands down Pisaeng's sides, over his hips, and along the dips above his butt, Pisaeng grinding down with his touch, a low gasp falling from his lips.

"I want to feel you," he breathes out, emphasising his words with a slow, deliberate circle of his hips against Kawi's groin, and Kawi chuckles at how one-tracked his mind gets sometimes at the same time as the assurance of being wanted wraps around him like a comforting blanket.

"Do we have anything here?" Kawi asks, mouthing along Pisaeng's throat and gently biting his Adam's apple.

Pisaeng nods, the tips of his nose brushing along Kawi's cheek with the motion as he points to one of the pillows.

“Don't tell me you packed lube in the middle of us getting almost murdered,” Kawi says, pulling back so Pisaeng can see the uptick of his brow. He's only half-offended, though.

"No," Pisaeng chuckles. “The house is just well equipped."

Now, Kawi is actually offended. “So we give our agents lubricant but no proper food? Great."

“Your company has their priorities straight, if you ask me,” Pisaeng counters with that impish grin on his face that he always wears when he wants it.

Kawi pretends to pout. “Well, I disagree."

“Of course you do,” Pisaeng replies, his face softening into a fond smile as his fingers tug at the hem of Kawi's top, opening the last few buttons and stripping it off his shoulders before his brows quirk up expectantly.

Kawi grumbles as he untangles himself from Pisaeng, feeling a little unsteady as he scoots forward on his knees and quite a bit self-conscious about the fact that his half-hard dick is now on display, Pisaeng's gaze zeroed in on the tent in Kawi's pants.

“You'll have to wait, Mr. Jirawarakul,” Kawi taunts, chuckling and glowing with giddiness as be throws the pillows aside to grab the supplies Pisaeng must've stored here earlier.

When he turns back around, Pisaeng is lying on the carpet with his arms stretched out above his head, the glow from the fire making his skin shimmer in warm bronze. His smile is slow, almost lazy, as he holds out his hand for Kawi to take, his eyes glimmering with the warmth and adoration Kawi will never quite understand or get used to.

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling Kawi down and into the space he made for him between his thighs.

Kawi settles there, sitting on his knees and hiking Pisaeng's around his waist to bring him closer. He strokes up his legs, slow, careful palms exploring the strong muscles in his legs that are relaxed and slack now but twitch when Kawi digs his thumbs into the inner side, where he knows a sensitive nerve runs underneath Pisaeng's skin. Kawi's gaze follows his motions up to his hips, running along the peaked bones there and under the soft fabric of his henley, Pisaeng's breath hitching when Kawi's thumbs follow the trail of hair on his abdomen. He slides them higher, over his sides and his ribcage, taking the shirt with him and looking down at the growing bulge in Pisaeng's grey sweatpants, the outline of his half-hard cock nestling against his hip bone. Kawi bites his lip absent-mindedly, taking one hand off Pisaeng's torso to reach down instead, and lets his pointer finger trace the outline in a gentle, teasing caress, watching as Pisaeng twitches under his touch and the fabric darkens where Pisaeng's cock is now fully erect and straining against his pants.

Kawi's breathing heavier now, shallow and deep, squirming to accommodate his own growing erection when he sees how easily Pisaeng reacts to his touch, still, after all these years.

“Kawi,” Pisaeng pleads, his hips rising to meet him, and when Kawi's gaze snaps up to meet his, Pisaeng's cheeks are already flushed and his lids half-hooded, his lashes casting long, deep shadows across the plains of his cheeks in the firelight.

His gaze is scorching and luring, wanting Kawi so openly and shamelessly that Kawi's mouth feels suddenly dry. Pisaeng is waiting for him, offering himself and his body for his pleasure, and Kawi feels feverish with it, his palms tingling with need now as he places them back onto his body, digging his fingertips in as he slides them along his sides and raking his shirt up with the motion until Pisaeng has to help him take it off.

Kawi lets his eyes wander over him, marvelling at the intricacies that make up his shape: soft skin, strong muscles, sharp bones, scars and moles, and a dusting of hair—all of which are mesmerizingly beautiful to Kawi. His body isn't bruised, no green and purple blooming across the plains of his chest and stomach, and the angry red marks Kawi left on him hours yet years ago aren't there anymore, only the wonderful expanses of Pisaeng's smooth, tan skin spreading out beneath him. Still, he bends down to kiss all these places in reverence and apology, his fingers splaying out around invisible marks. He dips lower, his lips slowly mapping out a path down Pisaeng's stomach, and over the scar on his abdomen that is new, a round, raised patch of skin that will forever remind them of what they almost did to each other.

He leaves it behind, dragging the tip of his nose along Pisaeng's stomach instead until he reaches his navel, swirling his tongue around it before biting down against the fragile skin below on his path down to the waistband of his sweatpants.  Gently, he nudges Pisaeng's knees that fall open with his silent command, splaying out around him; all of him now Kawi's for the taking. It's exhilarating, and Kawi can't resist the heat coming off him, moving lower still and taking Pisaeng’s pants with him, unable to drag this out even a second longer. He's not wearing boxers, his cock springing free and against Kawi's cheek, the scent of him maddening as Kawi mouths along his shaft, groaning deeply when he feels that smooth, silky skin against his lips. He's seen it before, tasted it before, probably thousands of times, yet Kawi feels a sudden need that seems impossible to satisfy, greed overpowering the remains of rationality and restraint in his mind as he closes his lips around him, drawing him in with hollowed cheeks.

He moves slowly to savour this, sliding up and down in a steady drag, Pisaeng's hips blissfully pushing up into Kawi's willing mouth, his shallow, slow thrusts sliding over Kawi's tongue. His mind starts floating, the salt taste of him spreading over Kawi's tongue as he takes him deeper, rolling his tongue over the head to taste more of it, warm, curling tension building in his lower back. He feels his heart hammering and hears Pisaeng's moans above him, the weight of him heavy in his throat, but Kawi just pushes down further, revelling in the choked-up groan Pisaeng lets out, a bright spark of pride lighting up his chest. Pisaeng taught him how to do this, being endlessly patient when Kawi was still scared, nervous, and clumsy, but Kawi likes to think he exceeded his teacher, grinning at Pisaeng's protesting whine when he lets him slide out of his mouth, his lips teasing along the junction of his thigh instead.

“Darling, please,” Pisaeng groans, his hands clenching into the carpet.

“Patience,” Kawi whispers against his skin. “We have time." 

They both know it's just burrowed. But Kawi thinks Pisaeng wants to believe in this illusion as much as he does.

His movements are sluggish, and his arms feel airy and light as he picks up the lube that he dropped somewhere next to Pisaeng's hips, trying to distract him from the way he fumbles with the lid of the bottle with long, drawn-out kisses against the inside of his thigh. Liquid squirts onto Pisaeng's stomach, making him laugh out, pearly and bright through his quickened breath. Kawi decides to just gather it up, coating his fingers before moving them downward. But Pisaeng hisses when Kawi's slick digits find his opening, tensing beneath him, and Kawi looks up at his face again, where his brows are now furrowed in concentration.

“Is this okay?” Kawi asks, concerned that he understood this wrong, that this isn't what Pisaeng wanted.

But Pisaeng nods, his hair splaying out around his head like a dark halo. “It's just been a while,” he mumbles, taking a deep, shaking breath, his chest that is red and glistening heaving with it.

“Tell me if you need me to stop, and I will,” Kawi assures him before gently pressing forward, mindful of the fact that it's been a year since they last did this. The angle is awkward, bordering on uncomfortable, but Kawi stops caring when Pisaeng moans deeply and his back arches off the floor, pushing in deeper just to coax another noise out of him. He loosens up slowly, his face relaxing and his strained breath turning into long, sensual sighs, his dick hardening again until it's flushed red and lying abandoned against his stomach.

Kawi takes hold of him once more, twisting his hand in the way Pisaeng likes, and that makes him twitch up into his palm. He just watches for a moment, mesmerised by the way his hand slides along Pisaeng so easily, spit and precum dripping down his fingers when he squeezes down. He moves inside him with the same rhythm, edging him on until Pisaeng's hips stutter and his balls tighten, and his moans rise higher, reaching a crescendo. Just before he comes, Kawi lets go, closing his mouth around the tip of his cock and sucking him in as warm, bitter cum spills into his mouth. Kawi moans with it, his stomach tensing dangerously as he grinds down against the carpet, panting when he lets go of Pisaeng, and so desperately hard now that his entire body feels pulled taut, his forehead pressed against Pisaeng's stomach as he tries to breathe and calm his racing pulse. But he doesn't want it to end yet; he doesn't want it to be over so soon when he can't be sure to ever get this again.

“Come here,” Pisaeng mumbles, reaching out for Kawi and brushing the damp strands of hair out of his eyes that are sticking to his forehead.

He half hoists Kawi up his chest, his arms encircling Kawi's shoulder and holding him tightly, kissing his forehead, his temple, his eyelids, and his hands drawing circles on Kawi's back. They move down to Kawi's hips, sliding heavily along the curve of his butt and into his pants, and Kawi whimpers when his fingers dig into his flesh, his whole body flaring up under his touch.

“You're not helping,” Kawi groans out, pressing his dick against Pisaeng's thigh in search of friction, and Pisaeng laughs, grabbing the waistband of Kawi's joggers to pull them down.

The air in the room is hot from the fire and their lovemaking, but it feels cool against Kawi's aching dick when it's finally free and exposed, making him shudder and writhe in Pisaeng's hold. Likely taking pity on him, Pisaeng takes his dick, his fingers clever and quick as they move along his burning flesh.

“Pisaeng, we wanted to-” Kawi tries to protest, but his words get lost in a moan when Pisaeng's hand speeds up, and all Kawi can do is clutch his shoulders and bury his face in his neck, meeting Pisaeng's strokes with quick, jerking motions.

“We have time,” Pisaeng repeats, his voice low and calm, and Kawi's hips snap forward, moving without his will as he chases his high, his self-control frayed and eroding as something primal and ravenous claws at him, and with a choked-off shout he cones, Pisaeng's steady hold on him the only thing keeping him from shattering and falling apart.

Kawi slumps down against his chest, gasping for breath as he crashes from his high, still clinging to him, while Pisaeng's fingers draw soothing circles along his spine and his lips softly grace along the crown of his head. They stay there, on the now damp carpet, with their arms around each other, their hands roaming and their lips exploring, not separating for even a second as they speak in hushed whispers, afraid to break the moment and their cocoon of tender intimacy. They're not done yet, Kawi knows, waiting for their bodies to recuperate and their desire to flare up again. But he's in no hurry, simply caressing Pisaeng's hips and cock until it hardens once more, and when their kisses deepen again, Pisaeng grabs one of the condoms Kawi threw carelessly on the floor and puts it on him before detangling himself from Kawi and turning on his stomach.

Kawi sits up on his knees, watching him as he reaches for one of the pillows that lie discarded around them and pushes it under his hips, his back arching in an enticing, elegant curve and his muscles rolling beneath his skin as he stretches out languidly.

“Like this?” Kawi whispers, moving closer again and settling on the back of Pisaneg’s thighs, carefully scooting up.

Pisaeng just hums, soft and content, with his eyes closed, so trusting that Kawi feels it squeezing his heart.

“Still good?” Kawi asks as he runs his hands over his thighs, the moment too tender for him to raise his voice above the crackling fire next to them.

A slow nod, and Kawi scoots forward, slicking himself up before leaning over him and covering Pisaeng's back as he slowly sinks into him.

He kisses the nape of Pisaeng's neck, feeling the tension seeping out of him as his body opens up beneath Kawi, both of them sighing when their bodies unite. His hands slide along Pisaeng's arms, up to his wrist, and over his knuckles, lacing their fingers together before slowly rolling his hips, pleasure unfurling in the depths of his stomach and winding through him.

He sets a leisurely rhythm, forgetting about every threat they're under and every hurtful word they threw at each other, getting lost in the feeling of him, his taste, and his scent as he breathes him in, smelling lemongrass and saltwater, and the distinct scent of his skin, which is achingly familiar even though he didn't get to experience it so intimately in a long time. Pisaeng's hips are circling slowly against the pillow, lazily, neither of them in a rush to reach their climax again as they move together, breath together, their hearts pounding against each other in the absence of space between them. He lets the calm ocean inside his veins swell up slowly, rippling through him from his fingertips to his soles, washing down his back as they bank up and slowly pull him under, sinking until his mind becomes a fuzzy haze. So he lets his head fall, resting his forehead between Pisaeng's shoulder blades, and kisses the knobs of his spine, feeling his muscles move beneath his skin as he breathes and his blood rushing through his veins, those signs of life still pulsing through him, warm and steady.  

Pisaeng turns his face to the side, breathing out his name, the vowels broken by a low, ecstatic moan as his hips cant up to meet Kawi's. His cheeks are flushed, beads of sweat glistening on his temple, and his brows are drawn together in pleasure as he bites his lip, chanting Kawi's name like a prayer. In response, Kawi tilts his face up to kiss his jaw, his chin, and the corner of his mouth, moving with him as one and feeling so in love that his heart throbs with it. 

And finally he whispers those words he withheld for so long, breathing them against Pisaeng's skin as the waves crash over him and he sinks into deep, viscid darkness,: “I love you, Pisaeng.”