Chapter Text
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"Khun namping."
"No~"
"I'm telling you for the last time."
"And I'm saying no for the last time."
Keng pinched the bridge of his nose so hard he was genuinely wondering how he hadn't developed a permanent headache over the past year, "Namping."
"Neh neh neh neh I am not listening." Namping just continued his struggle of stepping down from the window without falling from the third-floor and breaking a few bones.
"You are currently halfway out of a third-floor window." Keng deadpanned.
"I'm halfway to freedom." Namping didn't look the least bothered by the 180 cm intimidating man currently standing near the window, looking down at him with his hands on his hips.
"You're halfway to a broken neck."
"I'll survive." Namping waved him off.
"I won't. Your father will kill me."
Namping let out an exaggerated sigh before looking over his shoulder with the most innocent smile Keng had ever seen, "What if I promise to be careful?"
"You promised that before you tried to sneak into a music festival."
"I was careful." Namping tried to talk as sweetly as possible.
"You stole a cart from a poor seller." Keng reminded, poking the inside of his cheek with his tongue.
"Ahem it's called borrowing." Namping paused.
"You drove it into a fountain."
"The mountain was in the way, blame the one who built it there."
Keng stared at him.
Namping smiled brighter, "I can explain."
"You've said that every single time." Keng tried to reason with him for the last time.
Namping just blinked up innocently at him, "Because every single time there is an explanation."
Keng walked over, grabbed the back of Namping's hoodie with one hand as though lifting an unusually troublesome kitten, and effortlessly hauled him back inside the room. Namping kicked the air dramatically, "This is abuse!"
"This is my job." Keng looked down at him tiredly.
Namping pouted frustratedly, "You never let me have fun."
"I let you go to your friend's birthday." Keng reminded him, wincing at the memories of that eventful day.
"Yeah and you stood beside me for six hours." Namping argued.
"Yet you disappeared three times."
"I just wanted snacks."
"And you had to climb out of the bathroom window for that?" Keng raised an eyebrow.
"There was too much crowd near the front gate."
"There was no crowd near the front gate, only I was standing there."
"Exactly you alone are enough to crowd the front gate." Namping eyed his muscles, up and down.
Keng ignored him as shut the window and locked it. Click. Then he quietly slipped the key into his pocket.
Namping gasped in betrayal, "You- you locked my window?"
"I did." Keng shrugged sassily.
Namping's jaw dropped, "You're a dictator and where did you learn that attitude from?"
"First I'm your bodyguard and second from you."
"Same thing! But what do you mean from me?!"
Keng looked at him for a long second before sighing with the exhaustion of a man who'd made several questionable life decisions, "...Get dressed."
"Why?" Namping paused.
"You have dinner with your parents in fifteen minutes."
"I don't want to go." Namping said, starting to back away from Keng towards the window again.
Keng sighed and just stepped forward, "I know."
"What if I fake my death?" Namping's eyes brightened as if that sounded like an amazing idea in his head.
"I'll have to revive you."
"What if I climb out the balcony instead?" He said as he was already turning towards the balcony slowly.
"I've already locked that too." Keng waved the balcony keys.
"You already checked?" Namping asked in disbelief.
"..Maybe."
Namping flopped face-first onto his bed dramatically as if he'd just lost everything, "This is the worst life ever."
Keng looked at the ceiling, wondering if military training had truly prepared him for this menace.
It absolutely hadn't.
Now,
You're probably wondering how one of the country's most decorated former military officers ended up babysitting a twenty-two year old human disaster who thinks windows are doors and rules like polite suggestions.
Well...
Let's go back to the beginning.
⋆ ───────── ⋆
One year ago,
"I WON!" Namping threw himself across his king-sized bed, laughing so hard his stomach hurt.
Across from him, Kong looked up from the bag of chips he'd been stealing from Namping's snack drawer, "You really shouldn't celebrate making another grown man quit."
"I absolutely should." Namping was now laying on his back, smiling at the ceiling.
"Ping..."
"He lasted four months, finally!"
"You sound proud."
"I am proud!"
Kong shook his head with the expression of someone who'd been best friends with Namping for far too many years to be surprised anymore, "The last one only survived six weeks."
"Exactly! This one broke my record."
Namping stretched comfortably across the huge bed, his bedroom looking less like a bedroom and more like a luxury apartment. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the gardens, bookshelves lined one wall, and the gaming setup Kong had practically moved into occupied another, "I told you he'd resign eventually."
"You had to hide in a laundary truck for that." Kong reminded him.
Namping shrugged, "He found me anyway."
"You tried to escape but had to hide on the roof and you almost broke your bones in the process."
Namping grimaced, "And he still found me anyway."
Suddenly he grinned, "But in the end..."
"He quit." Kong completed for him.
"He quit." Namping repeated happily.
The two of them high-fived.
"I can't believe Uncle finally gave up," Kong said, laughing.
"Oh, Dad didn't give up." Namping rolled onto his back, "He'll probably wait a month before assigning someone else."
Kong sighed, "Think he'll hire another retired police officer?"
"I hope so. They're easy."
A knock interrupted them.
Neither bothered answering because everyone in the house knew Mrs. Pingmuang would come in anyway. The door opened as Mrs. Lalita Pingmuang or Namping's mother stepped inside with a smile that immediately made him suspicious.
"Mum?" Namping asked as he approached the bed.
She smiled even wider, "Hm?"
"Why are you smiling like that?"
She sat beside him on the bed and gently brushed his hair away from his forehead, "I have some news."
"Oh no." Kong immediately sat up straighter, "Tea~"
His mother shot Kong an amused look before turning back to her son, "Your father has already hired your new bodyguard."
Namping's smile disappeared, "...Already?"
"He starts tomorrow."
"S-so soon?"
"Yes."
Namping groaned dramatically before burying his face into a pillow, "Muuum."
"I'm afraid complaining won't change anything." His mother shot him and unimpressed look.
"Can you tell Dad no?"
"No."
"Please?"
"He already signed the contract."
Namping looked up with genuine desperation, "What if I promise to behave?"
His mother laughed, "My darling, you promised that after the third bodyguard."
"I meant it that time."
Kong snorted, "You also promised to stop escaping through windows."
"That promise expired." Namping said as he glared at Kong as if telling him to not interrupt this moment of life and death.
His mother tried not to laugh, "This bodyguard is different."
Namping narrowed his eyes, "..Different how?"
"Your father specifically hired someone with military experience."
"M-military?" Namping froze.
His mom nodded, "He served in the special forces."
Namping slowly sat up, "...Special forces?"
"Retired captain."
"Captain...?"
Kong burst into laughter, "Oh, you're done."
"I'm not done!"
"You are done, maybe this time he can finally discipline you."
"I'll make him resign too."
His mother smiled sympathetically, "I don't think this one will be easy."
"Why?"
"Your father said he's the coldest, strictest, and most disciplined bodyguard the agency has."
Namping gulped.
Kong slapped the bed, laughing uncontrollably, "Coldest, strictest? HAHAHA it was good knowing you Ping."
Namping grabbed his mother's arm, "Mum."
"Yes?"
"Please don't let Dad do this to me." Namping looked up at her with his puppy eyes.
"I'm sorry my baby."
"Mum."
"I really can't."
"You love me."
"I do."
"Then save me." He whined.
She gently pinched his cheek, "Take it up with your father."
"Dad doesn't negotiate." Namping cried.
"Exactly."
Kong leaned back comfortably, "I can't wait to watch this."
"You are not helping." Namping turned to him, his puppy eyes disappearing replaced by a glare that made him look like an angry kitten.
"I know."
Namping plopped on his back with a frustrated pout, "I hate you."
"You'll hate your new bodyguard more." Kong said as he blew him a kiss.
⋆ ───────── ⋆
The next morning,
Namping had never been so nervous in his life.
Every member of the household seemed unusually busy. The security team stood straighter than usual, the staff whispered among themselves. Whatever kind of man his father had hired...everyone already seemed intimidated.
Namping adjusted the sleeves of his hoodie for the nth time, "What if he's old?"
Kong shrugged, "Then you can outrun him."
"What if he's scary?"
"Then don't annoy him."
Namping looked offended, "That's impossible."
"I know."
They entered the main living room where his parents were already waiting. His father, Mr. Nawin Pingmuang stood beside a tall figure dressed in an black suit.
For a brief second...
Namping spotted the man and forgot how to breathe.
'No fucking way. This man is...massive.'
Broad shoulders stretched perfectly beneath the tailored jacket. His posture was straight as a statue, hands neatly folded behind his back. His dark hair was neatly styled to expose his forehead, his sharp jawline looked like it belonged on a magazine cover, and his expression remained completely unreadable.
He looked less like a bodyguard and more like a mafia boss or model.
Namping's eyes shamelessly travelled downward again.
'Those shoulders. Those arms. Is this man built out of concrete?'
Kong subtly elbowed him, "Close your mouth."
Namping immediately shut it.
The bodyguard turned towards his direction, his gaze met Namping's. They were genuinely one the prettiest eyes Namping has ever seen. The choney-brown colour, the depth in them, everything about them was alluring. But there wasn't even the slightest hint of emotion.
Namping swallowed.
His father spoke first, "Namping, this is Keng Harit. He'll be your personal bodyguard from today onwards."
The man stepped forward and gave a respectful nod. When he spoke his voice was deep, calm, and smooth enough to make Namping momentarily forget every speech he'd rehearsed on the way downstairs, "Good morning, Khun Namping."
Namping blinked.
'His voice should actually be illegal.'
He cleared his throat, desperately trying to look normal, "Uh... hi."
Keng regarded him with the same unreadable expression, "It's a pleasure to meet you."
Namping had no idea why his heart had suddenly decided to beat faster.
'Oh, this is bad. This is very, very bad.'
Because instead of looking like the ruthless military monster he'd spent all night imagining. The new bodyguard was ridiculously handsome and hot as fuck.
⋆ ───────── ⋆
Kong didn't even bother looking up when Namping dramatically stumbled into his room and flopped face-first onto the bed with enough force to make the mattress bounce. His slippers dangled off the edge, muffling his groan into the blankets like a man returning from war instead of a single afternoon with his new bodyguard.
"I've made a terrible mistake."
"Welcome back to you too," Kong replied dryly, not taking his eyes off his phone as he lazily scrolled through social media. If Namping had collapsed this dramatically over anything less than a life crisis, he would've been more concerned. As it was, this happened often enough that he gave it another ten seconds before asking questions.
"I can't do this." Namping rolled onto his back with a groan, one arm flung dramatically over his forehead.
"Do what?" Kong asked absentmindedly, still reading whatever was on his screen.
"Live."
That finally made Kong glance over the top of his phone, "...Did he kill you already?"
"He will one day." Namping dragged both hands down his face before letting them fall onto the mattress. He stared miserably at the ceiling, lips down-turned into a frown, "He's unfair."
Kong locked his phone and tossed it onto the bedside table before turning to face him properly, one eyebrow lifting in curiosity, "Who's unfair?"
"Keng."
"The bodyguard you've known for-" He leaned over to glance at the digital clock on his nightstand. "..approximately six hours?"
"Yes."
"What did he do?"
Namping shot upright so suddenly the bed creaked beneath him. He threw both hands into the air, looking offended by the universe, "He showed up looking like..like that."
"Like what...?" Kong tilted his head, though the corners of his mouth had already begun to twitch.
"You saw him!" Namping exclaimed, pointing accusingly at him as though Kong was deliberately pretending not to understand.
"I did," Kong answered with an innocent nod.
"He's ridiculously handsome."
Kong folded one leg beneath himself and rested his chin on his palm, settling in comfortably like someone about to watch an exceptionally entertaining performance.
"I mean..he has the sharpest jawline I've ever seen."
"Mhm."
"And those arms-"
"Mhm."
"Does he even know sleeves exist?" Namping gestured wildly, trying and failing to recreate Keng's physique in the air. "And his poor shirt buttons! They were literally fighting for their life to not burst open."
Kong bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. He motioned with one hand for Namping to continue, "Go on."
"And his eyes are.." Namping hesitated, the dramatic gestures slowly fading as he searched for the right words, "..really pretty."
"Oh?" Kong leaned forward just slightly, enjoying this far more than he should.
"They're just-" Namping frowned thoughtfully. "..so focused."
"So human eyes?"
"They're very nice human eyes!" Namping protested immediately, throwing both hands up in surrender.
Kong nodded with exaggerated solemnity, "Very tragic."
"And his voice!"
"What about it?" Kong prompted, resting his cheek against his fist.
"It's so deep," Namping muttered, sounding personally offended by the fact.
"Mhm."
"When he said, 'Good morning, Khun Namping,' I almost forgot that's my name."
Kong's lips twitched despite his best efforts, "I see."
"And he barely talks." Namping folded his arms across his chest with a huff, as though Keng's silence was somehow another crime.
"Anything else?" Kong asked innocently, despite very much knowing where this conversation was headed.
Namping opened his mouth. Nothing came oyt, "..."
He blinked once.
Then twice.
"...Hang on."
Kong waited patiently, saying nothing.
Namping's brows slowly knitted together as realization crept across his face, "...Why am I complimenting him?"
"I was wondering the same thing."
"I came here to complain, why have I spent the last five minutes describing his face?" Namping asked, sounding distressed by the realisation.
"I don't know." Kong offered an exaggerated shrug that was about as helpful as expected.
"What is wrong with me?" Namping groaned before flopping backward onto the mattress again, burying his face in a pillow.
That was it.
Kong couldn't hold it together anymore as a laugh burst out of him so suddenly he doubled over, nearly dropping his phone off the bed. The harder he tried to stop, the worse it became.
Namping immediately grabbed the nearest pillow and launched it across the room. "Stop laughing!" he whined, sitting up just long enough to glare daggers at his best friend.
Kong caught the pillow against his chest, still wheezing, "I can't!"
"This isn't funny!"
"It very much is," Kong shot back between laughs.
"I hate you."
"No, you don't." Kong tossed the pillow back onto the bed with an infuriating grin.
"I hate him," Namping corrected stubbornly, crossing his arms and pointedly refusing to look at him.
Kong watched him for a long second, the smile on his face softening into something knowing.
"...Sure you do."
⋆ ───────── ⋆
Next morning,
[7 a.m]
It was Keng's official first day as Namping's bosyguard.
He was standing outside Namping's bedroom door when the clock struck seven in the morning, hands clasped behind his back and posture straight. Not a wrinkle on his crisp suit, and not a single strand of dark hair had slipped out of place.
A few moments later, the bedroom door swung open.
Namping shuffled out in an oversized T-shirt and loose sweatpants, rubbing sleep from one eye while suppressing a yawn. His hair stuck up in every direction imaginable.
He took two sleepy steps into the hallway before finally looking up.
He froze, "...Oh."
Keng inclined his head politely, "Good morning, Khun Namping."
Namping stared at him for a beat, still trying to wake up, "There it is again."
Keng blinked once, his expression remaining politely neutral, "Pardon?"
"Nothing." Namping waved a hand dismissively, clearing his throat as he looked anywhere but directly at him.
'Absolutely nothing.'
Namping definitely wasn't thinking about how someone could sound that calm before breakfast or how his voice somehow sounded even lower this early in the morning.
'Definitely not.'
He rubbed the back of his neck before awkwardly gesturing toward the hallway, "So..."
Keng waited patiently, giving him his full attention.
"...How long have you been standing there?"
"Approximately 2 hours 14 minutes minutes."
Namping stopped halfway down the hallway and slowly turned to look at him, his eyebrows climbing higher, "You timed it?"
"I always do." Keng answered as though that were the most obvious thing in the world.
"...Do you ever sleep?" Namping asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
"Yes."
"When?"
"At night." Each answer came in the same calm, matter-of-fact tone, without the slightest hint of sarcasm.
"...Oh." Namping blinked.
He had no comeback for that.
The conversation dissolved into silence. For a total of three minutes.
Their footsteps echoed softly against the polished wooden floor as they made their way toward the staircase.
Trying again, Namping shoved both hands into the pockets of his sweatpants and stole another glance at the man walking beside him. Keng's pace was measured, unhurried, every movement precise enough to make him seem almost robotic.
"So~ where are you from?"
"Bangkok."
"Oh." A small smile immediately spread across Namping's face, "Me too."
He looked over expectantly, waiting for Keng to add something- anything.
"..."
Keng simply acknowledged it with a small nod.
"..."
Nothing else...
Namping sighed quietly to himself.
'Right.'
He was going to have to carry this entire conversation. "So..." He rocked back slightly on his heels as they reached the staircase. "Do you have hobbies?"
"Reading."
"What do you read?"
"History."
Keng answered without looking away from the stairs ahead, his voice as even as before.
"Oh." Namping nodded thoughtfully while they descended side by side.
Another few steps passed.
"So... favorite food?"
"I'm not picky."
"Favorite movie?"
"I don't watch many."
"Favorite color?"
"I don't have one."
Namping came to an abrupt stop on the staircase.
Keng noticed immediately and stopped one step below him, turning just enough to face him
"You don't have a favorite color?"
"No." He answered with complete confidence, genuinely unaware that this was apparently an unusual response.
Namping stared at him in genuine disbelief, "...That's a little concerning."
For the first time since meeting him, Keng looked faintly uncertain. He frowned almost imperceptibly, "...Should I have one?"
Namping looked at him as though he'd just confessed he didn't believe the Earth is round, "Everyone has a favorite color."
"I've never thought about it." Keng actually paused for a moment before answering, as if sincerely considering whether he'd somehow overlooked an important part of being human.
"Hmmmmmm." Namping nodded slowly to himself, "We're fixing that."
Without another explanation, he resumed walking downstairs.
Keng followed a beat later, still unsure what exactly was wrong with not having a favorite color.
He wasn't entirely sure he wanted to find out.
⋆ ───────── ⋆
Breakfast came and went.
Morning light spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows, washing the polished wooden table in warm gold. Plates of toast, fresh fruit, eggs, and pastries had already been laid out by the house staff, along with a steaming pot of coffee that filled the room with its rich aroma.
Namping slid into his usual chair with an appreciative sigh.
"Morning," he mumbled to one of the housekeepers, earning a warm smile in return.
Keng remained standing until Namping had settled, only taking the seat reserved beside him after receiving a small nod of permission.
Namping reached for a slice of toast, glancing sideways at Keng over the rim of his plate "So..." he began, absentmindedly spreading butter across the bread. "Have you always wanted to be a bodyguard?"
Keng looked up briefly from his breakfast, "Yes."
"Oh." Namping nodded, "...That's cool."
Another pause.
"So, did you have to go through some crazy training?"
"Yes."
"What was it like?"
"Difficult."
"...Right." Namping chewed thoughtfully. He was really trying here. "So anyway, I think we should-"
Keng reached for the coffee pot.
The sleeves of his crisp white shirt shifted just enough to reveal his forearms, veins faintly visible beneath tan skin as he effortlessly lifted the heavy pot.
Namping’s eyes darted down to Keng’s hands. They were huge, mapped with prominent veins that wrapped around his wrists and disappeared up the rolled-up sleeves of his button-down.
It was a distracting sight.
Namping bit his lip, his thoughts suddenly turning not-so-very innocent. He found himself wondering exactly how those heavy, veiny hands would feel gripping someone’s waist - his waist to be specific - or pressed flat against a mattress while those thick biceps flexed with-
"Khun Namping?"
Namping choked on his scrambled eggs.
"Yes! Right. Food. Delicious," he squeaked, his face burning a furious shade of crimson.
He forced himself to look up, only to be greeted by Keng’s chest. The fabric of his shirt was stretched tight across broad chest, hinting at the toned muscle underneath.
'That is very disrespectful.'
Namping swallowed hard, desperately trying to anchor his gaze to his plate before he started drooling.
'Act normal. Just act like a normal person who isn't currently imagining their bodyguard shirtless.'
He cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as he took another bite of toast before trying again, "So... do you drink coffee every morning?"
"Usually."
"Black?"
"Yes."
"No sugar..?"
"No."
Namping stared at him, "That's kind of terrifying."
Keng paused with his coffee halfway to his lips, "...Is it?"
"It tastes depressive."
"I don't mind it."
"Hmmmmm." Namping wasn't convinced.
Across the table, Keng took a quiet sip before placing the cup neatly back onto its saucer. Just then, one of the housekeepers approached to refill the fruit platter, "Excuse me, sir."
Keng immediately shifted his chair back a few inches to give her room, inclining his head politely, "Thank you." His voice remained calm and respectful, accompanied by the smallest nod of appreciation.
The housekeeper smiled before quietly excusing herself.
Namping watched the entire interaction, "You're very polite."
Keng looked at him, "I was raised that way."
"Oh."For some reason, that answer made Namping smile, "Makes sense..." He popped a strawberry into his mouth, still watching Keng from the corner of his eye.
Maybe he'd been wrong earlier. Keng wasn't cold. He was just... quiet. Even though very very quiet but not cold or arrogant.
The silence was making Namping restless, "So," he said, leaning an elbow onto the table, "if you don't have a favorite color-"
Keng looked up.
"What's your favorite season?"
Keng actually stopped to think, "Hmmm..winter."
Namping's eyes lit up, "You do have a favorite!"
"I suppose I do."
"There we go!" Namping pointed at him triumphantly. "See? Progress."
Keng looked faintly puzzled by the celebration, "...congratulations?"
Namping laughed despite himself, "You know what? I'll take it."
For the first time that morning, the corner of Keng's mouth lifted. It wasn't quite a smile. Just the faintest hint of one. It disappeared almost as quickly as it came.
Namping stared.
Had he imagined that?
Keng calmly picked up his coffee again as though nothing had happened.
"...So anyway," Namping said, clearing his throat and looking down at his breakfast before he embarrassed himself any further, "I think we should head to the driveway."
"Of course." Keng answered immediately.
Namping nodded.
⋆ ───────── ⋆
By the time they got into the car, Keng had learned more about pigeons than he'd ever wanted to know, mostly because Namping was using the birds as a desperate smoke screen to distract himself from how Keng’s thighs practically fills out his trousers.
Namping continued talking without waiting for a response, his attention drifting between the passing scenery outside the passenger window and whatever thought happened to cross his mind next. One elbow rested against the door as he absentmindedly traced shapes into the fogged corner of the glass.
"...And then Kong said I was overreacting," he said with a dramatic scoff, shaking his head. "But I wasn't, because if you really think about it-"
Beside him, Keng kept both hands steady on the steering wheel, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Traffic flowed smoothly through the morning streets, the quiet hum of the engine filling the brief pauses in Namping's endless stream of conversation.
Even though he appeared professional, calm and composed from outside,
Inside however...
'What is happening?'
'Does he breathe between sentences?'
'How has he switched topics four times in under a minute?'
"..and anyway," Namping continued, waving one hand vaguely through the air as though presenting a very compelling argument, "pineapple on pizza isn't that bad if-"
Keng waited.
"Oh." Namping frowned thoughtfully, "I switched again."
A beat later, he perked up.
"Have you ever been to Chiang Mai?"
Keng glanced at him for the briefest second before returning his attention to the road.
'We're in Chiang Mai now?' he wondered silently.
"...Actually, never mind." Namping dismissed the question with a flick of his wrist. "Different question."
'There are more questions?'
Namping leaned back in his seat, tapping a finger thoughtfully against his chin, "If animals could vote-" He turned to Keng with complete seriousness. "Which one do you think would win?"
Silence settled over the car.
Keng actually considered it, "...Dogs."
Namping's head whipped around so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash, "You answered!"
"I did," Keng replied evenly.
"I thought you weren't listening."
"I was."
"You've been listening this whole time?" Namping asked, his eyes widening in disbelief.
"Yes."
A grin spread across Namping's face so quickly it was almost blinding, "I like you."
Keng's fingers tightened - only slightly - around the steering wheel.
He kept his gaze locked firmly on the road ahead.
'It's eight-thirty in the morning. I've already worked harder today than I did during military training.'
He had protected diplomats, scorted politicians, transported high-profile clients through dangerous situations, completed missions under impossible conditions.
None of them- not a single one..had prepared him for Namping Napatsakorn Pingmuang, who somehow possessed the supernatural ability to carry an entire conversation by himself and somehow expected answers to hypothetical animal elections before nine in the morning.
Next to him, blissfully unaware of the crisis unfolding in Keng's head, Namping had already moved on.
"...Okay, but if cats started a political party," he mused, looking back out the window, "I feel like it'd collapse in three business days."
Keng inhaled quietly through his nose.
It was going to be a very long assignment.
⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖