Chapter Text
KINN
On the road from Bangkok to Hua Hin, May 1963
The rain hammers the roof of his father’s black Maserati. The wipers scrape across the windshield with a dry squeak, again and again. A hypnotizing sound that distracts from how stiflingly quiet the car is inside.
It’s a three hour drive from Bangkok to Hua Hin. About two hours in, Chan begins to tap a rhythm on the steering wheel to a tune only he can hear.
Kinn sits in the passenger seat and stares out the window. Monsoon season has come around, as it always does, predictable and unpredictable all at the same time. There’s no escaping the high humidity even in the car, and Kinn’s powder blue button-down clings uncomfortably to the sweaty skin of his back.
Tankhun and Kim are both quiet in the backseat—finally, after a particularly heated row that lasted for at least an hour. Kinn’s fingers are still working gently at his own temple, trying to massage out the migraine their dispute caused. Those two are always at each other’s throat, and Kim knows exactly which buttons to press to send Tankhun into hysterical fits from where there’s no talking him down.
Kinn glances over his shoulder to see that his Phi is now thankfully asleep, exhausted from arguing, his head resting against the cool window. He looks utterly relaxed. Right behind Kinn sits his Nong, jaw tense and dark eyes unseeing, staring out the window, simmering in his own indignation. He’s stubbornly still wearing his leather jacket, even in the insufferable heat.
When Korn had told Kinn to bring his brothers with him to this season’s opening of the Theerapanyakul-owned Grand Lotus Resort in Hua Hin, Kinn had huffed and puffed. “The fresh air will do them both good,” Korn had said. Kinn, the presumptive heir to their family’s massive hotel empire, had just wanted to go there on a quick business trip, get it over with, engage a little with the guests and the staff, before getting back into the car with Chan and getting the hell out of there. But now it’s turned into a whole… thing. A holiday—for his brothers, at least. Kinn has to work.
He would’ve argued with Korn if he’d think it would’ve made a difference. He would’ve argued, both on the matter of bringing his brothers to Hua Hin but also on the matter of going there at all—Kinn has bigger and more important tasks right at home in Bangkok, like business meetings and investing in more profitable property near the Chao Praya. But his father wants him to… “show face, step into the role, build bridges,” yada yada yada.
Kinn would’ve argued with Korn, too, on the matter of Kinn’s pending wedding, if it wasn’t for the fact that that specific topic is the most sensitive one of them all. Pearl, Kinn’s betrothed, hand-picked by his father because she comes from an important family, is a lovely woman. Pretty, too. Too bad Kinn doesn’t favor women. Of course, his father can never know that. Nor can anyone. In three weeks, when Kinn returns from Hua Hin, Pearl will become Mrs. Kinn Theerapanyakul, and there’s not a damn thing in this world Kinn can do about it. Kinn is, after all, in his early thirties now, and Korn wants grandchildren. More heirs to the empire. The thought of upholding his end of that side of the deal makes Kinn want to wrench open the car door and throw up the contents of his stomach.
“How long now?” Kinn asks Chan, tight-lipped.
“Not long now, Sir,” Chan replies, stoic and concise as always. His father’s man is in his typical black suit, waistcoat and tie and all, and Kinn wonders if he’s bothered by the heat at all or if he’s some type of superhuman, like the ones Kinn used to read about in comic books from America. Kinn also wonders if Chan joined them on this trip for pure security purposes or, more likely, for spying purposes—Kinn has no doubt Chan will be reporting his every move back to Korn on a daily basis.
True to Chan’s assessment of their itinerary, it’s no more than another forty five minutes before the Grand Lotus comes into view through the windshield. It’s massive and gaudy—tacky, even, Kinn thinks and scoffs. His father always had a taste for loud.
From the backseat, Tankhun stirs and smacks his lips. He’s blinking his eyes open just as Kinn turns around in his seat to look at him. His bleached hair is an unruly mess on the top of his head. “Are we there yet?” Tankhun mumbles.
“What does it look like?” Kim bites next to Tankhun, claws immediately out. Tankhun makes an affronted noise and smacks Kim across the face with the frilly hem of his flower-patterned robe.
“Enough,” Kinn growls from the passenger seat, sliding Ray-Ban Wayfarers onto his face as Chan brings the car to a full stop on an already packed parking lot. Kinn doesn’t know the hotel’s exact capacity, but based on the amount of expensive cars in the lot, it’s a fair amount. “Please. Just… try to have a good time here, and let me fucking work in peace.”
Both his brothers grow eerily quiet, shocked expressions on their faces, and Kinn is immediately flooded with guilt. He never yells at or scolds his brothers. He twists around in his seat again. He loves them dearly, for all that they get on his nerves. Since their mother died when they were young children, Korn has been physically absent and emotionally distant. It’s been mostly on Kinn to raise his brothers, and most of the time he thinks he’s done a pretty shitty job of it. Tankhun, while well into his mid thirties, is restless, immature and impulsive. Kim is angry, withdrawn and aloof.
“I’m sorry,” Kinn mutters. He glances at Chan still in the driver’s seat for a brief second, for moral support maybe, as if looking to an adult for help. Chan doesn’t spare him a glance and Kinn realizes with a sinking feeling that he himself is the adult in charge here. He hates that responsibility. He hates the responsibility of having to take over the family business, of being his brothers’ parent, of being the only one expected to get married and provide grandchildren.
He often imagines what it would be like to live an entirely different life. A life where he didn’t have to hide who he really is. Hide his desires.
A life without shame.
His thoughts are interrupted by the sight of an older, slightly portly man running up to the side of the car, Kinn’s side. He’s crouching beneath an umbrella, a second umbrella folded and tucked beneath his arm. He, awkwardly and with a lot of difficulty, clasps his occupied hands together to give a half-hearted wai, bowing low. He looks a little stressed, face flushed and sweaty. His round spectacles perch precariously on his nose as he bows low again and again, waving at Kinn through the car window.
Kinn inhales deeply, bracing himself. “Big smiles, everyone,” he says, maybe mostly to himself, and then he steps out of the car beneath the offered umbrella.
“Khun Kinn Theerapanyakul, what an honor,” the man says and unfolds the second umbrella for himself, stepping beneath it. “Somchai Boonmee, daily manager here at the Grand Lotus Hua Hin. Your father is a long-time friend of mine.”
“He mentioned you,” Kinn smiles pleasantly. “The honor is all mine.”
Somchai flushes a bright crimson, eyelids fluttering. His eyes then flit behind Kinn, widening in delight. “Oh, you brought your brothers, what an honor indeed. Khun Tankhun, Khun Kimhan. Such a lovely surprise. Arm, Pol!” the high-strung man bellows over his shoulder. From the resort entrance, two men come running looking like Laurel & Hardy, clutching umbrellas to their sides. They get on either side of the car, backs ramrod straight, and then they unfold the umbrellas, ready for Tankhun and Kim to step out under them.
Chan, seemingly impervious to the rain, pops open the trunk and begins to unload their luggage onto the ground. Kim pulls out his guitar case and slings it over his shoulder. Arm and Pol shoo him and Chan away, and then they take over, rolling the brothers’ embarrassingly large amount of suitcases through the rain towards the main building.
“Be careful,” Tankhun shouts after them. “The yellow one holds all my favorite robes.”
“Did you really need to bring that much stuff?” Kim grumbles next to him.
Tankhun scoffs. “My condolences, little brother, that you’ve never heard of fashion.”
“Neither, it appears,” Kim rakes his gaze over Tankhun’s colorful form, “have you.”
Tankhun stomps the ground and butts his umbrella into Kim’s, making Kim stumble on the wet gravel path.
Somchai watches the whole exchange with an increasing amount of stress lines forming around his mouth. He looks at Kinn and chuckles nervously. Kinn just shrugs.
“Well, our finest executive bungalow is ready for you, Khun Kinn, Kim, Tankhun,” he says, a little shakily. “We would just need you, Khun Kinn, to do the agreed-upon speech for our honored guests first.”
“Of course,” Kinn says. “Lead the way.”
Somchai leads them through the main house, which is incredibly charming in and of itself, built in a classic Thai-colonial style, painted creamy white with dark teak accents and a red tiled roof. Kinn, begrudgingly, has to eat his words about his father’s poor taste.
Palm trees and two marble dragon statues frame the entrance that leads to the grand lobby, which is so stunning that it takes Kinn’s breath away. Black-and-white marble tiles are laid out on the floor in a geometric pattern, and low rattan lounge chairs are scattered throughout for guests to enjoy some rest. Lotus flowers float in massive glass bowls along the reception desk, and behind the desk hangs a beautiful tapestry woven in traditional Thai silk.
“Kinn, this is amazing,” Tankhun gasps and clutches onto Kinn’s bicep.
“We’re so happy you think so, Khun Tankhun,” Somchai bows low. “It is of utmost importance for us here at the Grand Lotus to give our esteemed guests a feeling of pure luxury and leisure.”
Somchai leads them to the rear end of the building and into a large dining area with a stage along the back wall. The space is packed with guests, a mix of wealthy Thai and international tourists, waiting to hear Kinn’s speech.
Kinn gets up on the stage and taps out a little bit as he goes through the motions; he talks about the resort’s long history, his father’s connection to Hua Hin, how the Grand Lotus was his father’s passion project, how he and Kinn’s mother favored Hua Hin as a place to unwind and relax. Kinn doesn’t even know if this is true—he’s just parroting what his father told him to say. Sadly, he doesn’t remember his mother well enough to know her favorite… well, anything.
He encourages the guests to participate in everything the resort has to offer during the monsoon season—fun games and activities designed to make their holiday a memorable one, even if it rains every day.
Out of the corner of his eye, he is keenly aware of Tankhun and Kim growing more and more impatient and restless. Kinn is, too. He is sweaty and exhausted from the drive down and just wants a few hours to himself.
He repeats everything he just said, in broken English this time. Then he wraps up and bows low and exits the stage to applause.
Finally, Somchai leads them onto a gravel path behind the main house, lined with jasmine and gardenia. The scent is wonderful, especially now that the rain has subsided and cleansed the air. They pass by gorgeous bamboo bungalows which, Somchai informs them, are where the guests are staying.
At the end of the path, overlooking the sea, is the largest bungalow on the property. It’s a two-story building and looks more like a villa. It has a ground-floor porch in front and a massive, first-floor terrace, and is definitely big enough for all three brothers, despite Kim complaining about wanting his own bungalow.
Somchai unlocks the door and leads them into an extravagant entrance space that’s as beautifully decorated as the main house’s lobby.
“I’ll let you get settled.” Somchai hands each of the brothers a set of keys and bows low. “Oh, and you must join us for dinner tonight. Every night, our resident dance teachers perform for our dining guests and it is an experience not to be missed!” Somchai grins proudly, and Kinn agrees that they’ll be there at six pm for dinner and the show.
Somchai finally leaves them alone, and the brothers disperse without a word to each other, each claiming a room.
Kinn’s bedroom is unsurprisingly gorgeous, with an en-suite bathroom and a massive four-poster bed with a perfect view of the beach beyond the windows. He sits on the edge of the bed and breathes deeply a few times. Maybe these three weeks won’t be too bad. Even though he has to work and plaster on a false smile for most of his waking hours, at least he’s surrounded by exquisite beauty.
And at least, while he’s here, he can try to forget that by this time next month, he’ll be a married man.
Kinn’s eyelids flutter closed, jaw tensing at the thought. He tries to nap for a bit, to no avail. When it’s almost dinner time, he showers and changes into a fresh set of clothes.
In the hallway, it’s only Tankhun there, waiting for him.
“Where’s Kim?” Kinn asks, unnecessarily.
Tankhun rolls his eyes and tucks his arm under Kinn’s. Together, they walk toward the main house in silence, listening to the cicadas chirp.
Dinner is a lovely affair, if only Kinn wasn’t so exhausted. But he was, he realizes, starved beyond belief, so he wolfs down a delicious spread of rice and noodles and rich, traditional sauces.
Suddenly, the lights dim low in the dining area, and music bleeds through the speakers—something from America, or England. Kinn recognizes it as rock and roll or rhythm and blues. It has a fast and rhythmic energy that makes anticipation vibrate beneath his skin.
The guests around him break into applause and cheers, and Kinn thinks this must be the dance performance Somchai talked about.
And then, a man steps onto the stage and the crowd goes wild. He’s… handsome, Kinn notices immediately. Incredibly handsome, even in the bright, unforgiving stage lights that shine down upon him. He’s wearing black, high-waisted pants, polished shoes, and a fitted white button-down with the sleeves rolled slightly above the wrists. Almost his entire chest is exposed, most of the buttons of his shirt undone. His hair is combed away from his face, looking soft to the touch.
And… what a face. Kinn thinks he’s only ever seen that kind of symmetrical face on statues of Buddha. It’s a perfect face.
A woman joins the man on stage and soon he is expertly leading her through fast spins that send her skirt swirling, quick underarm turns that leave the audience gasping. The couple separates for a moment, doing impressive footwork on their own, before the man pulls the woman into another spin. Kinn doesn’t know much about dancing—okay, so he doesn’t know anything about dancing, really—but he thinks it’s the jive, or the twist. Or a mix of the two. Definitely some Western dance style. But who cares when this man is… this captivating.
Much too soon for Kinn’s liking, the performance is over. The man tangles his fingers with the woman’s and together they bow low before running off stage to the sound of massive cheers.
Somchai soon steps onto the empty stage and raises his hands in the air, saying into the microphone, “Another round of applause for Porsche and Malee, ladies and gentlemen.”
Kinn swallows around a lump in his throat, clapping his hands together absentmindedly, eyes tracing the path the dancing couple had just taken off the stage.
Porsche.