Chapter Text
The blue light of a monitor lit a room. Dark hulking shapes were all that could be made out of the furniture, posters a blacker black on greyed out walls. In the light, washed in the one source like it was moonlight, sat a young man. His face looked white, and the round lenses of his glasses threw reflections back of what happened on the screen. In the silence of the night, all that was heard was the clatter of a keyboard, the quick clicks of a mouse and over it, and his voice, hushed but intense.
“Healers! Someone shore up the right flank, those AoE attacks are shredding us.”
On the screen, fictional war waged. Bodies surged, animations sparkling, the music building. Wielding a longsword, wearing shining plate armour and riding on a dragon, the character the man was playing may have looked as far from real life as it could get. It was only he himself who knew that the life he led on the screen was the true one.
An alarm sounded and he looked down to his phone, grimaced. He was supposed to log off. He had a busy day tomorrow. The siren call of just a few more minutes in his own world beckoned. Turning the alarm off, he dove back in.
“That’s it, we’ve almost got it! Keep spamming the shock attacks, the break bar is going down again.”
o.O.o
The alarm rang and Waan Wanichakarnjonkul groaned as he turned over, blindly fumbling over the screen until it stopped. Allowing himself a heartfelt moan in pain, he resisted the achingly keen urge to pull the covers over his head and go back to sleep. Instead he sat, rubbed his hands over his face. Blearily, he glanced at the time, grit his teeth. In minutes he was showered, and donning slacks, buttoning his shirt with one hand as he checked his emails with his other. Walking down the stairs he found the kitchen still dark and abandoned, none of his family or housekeepers awake yet. Waan pushed the button on the espresso machine and it whirred to life, noisily grinding beans, then dripping the liquid into the cup. Sweeping it in one drag, he replaced the cup, then drank the second standing at the window and looking out at the slowly brightening sky. The sun was still nothing but a rosy suggestion in the East when he backed his car out of the driveway and set off.
As he sped down the motorway, he started building the Wan he had to be all day at work, the way he built his to-do list. Methodically, practically, steadily. By the time he reached the office building, he looked exactly as he was expected to. The oldest son of the Wanichakarnjonkul family, owners of one of the largest resort chains in Thailand and when he stepped out of the car, he appeared cool, impassive, aloof and business-like.
Last night he might have worn a cloak in his game, but it weighed easier than the mantle of responsibility that now settled over his shoulders, entering the building. Without letting it show, he kept his face still as his assistant sidled up to him the moment he was through the door. Handing him a large coffee in a paper cup, he started spouting the day’s plan. The few things that had escaped his own mental checklist resulted in a vague grimace of unease, then he shuffled the priorities, instructed his assistant as they rode the lift to the top floor. By the time they reached it, the doors opened and he entered the inner office with a sigh. Dread already collecting in the pit of his stomach, he forced himself to sit. Almost the second he did, the stationary phone rang. Picking it up with a sigh, he answered.
His assistant responded. “Sorry to bother you already, sir, but it’s the CEO for Staff Solutions and it sounds like it’s urgent.”
Keeping the second sigh inaudible, Waan pinched the bridge of his nose under his glasses and closed his eyes. “Put him on.”
o.O.o
The work day ended with a headache-inducing crisis that couldn’t be solved unless he negotiated personally with the two heads of two separate hotels of the chain. Driving between them added two hours to his day. When he got back to the house, it was already close to ten.
His father looked up from the tablet he was reading on where he sat on the couch when Waan entered.
Waan didn’t think it was even the older man’s conscious decision to look at the clock on the wall. Yet, he did. And seeing the time, a wrinkle of disapproval etched its way between his eyebrows. The straight line looked like an exclamation mark to Waan. Highlighting that once again, he had tried and failed to fulfil his father’s expectations in some way.
“It took you until now to resolve that tiff?”
Describing the argument as a “tiff” was wildly understating it. Both managers had been livid, both threatening to resign on the spot.
“Yes,” he stated. As always the tension he felt around his father made the tone pinched, defensive. Despite being twenty-four years old, his shoulders lifted, neck bent and his hands itched to curl at his sides.
With a conscious effort, he relaxed, met his father’s eyes steadily. “I’m going upstairs.”
“Don’t start those games. You need to keep your head clear for work. Those ridiculous children’s habits are irresponsible.”
“Father, I may work for you, but what I do in my spare time really isn’t for you to decide.”
“Work for me? You’re my son. My heir. It’s not a nine-to-five position, Waan. Being the oldest comes with responsibilities. Privileges, yes, and in turn, you…”
Waan let the familiar lecture wash over him. He had heard this one and variations on it every day since he learned to walk. Focusing on the lampshade just by his father’s head, he trailed it with his gaze, counted slowly down from thirty in his head.
“...Are you listening to me?”
“Yes,” he lied easily.
“You’re not. I can see it. Your brother will be home this weekend, maybe he can help-”
“No.” He straightened. “Win has classes, swim club.”
“He can make time for-”
“I said no.” Waan bid the few hours he’d planned for himself that weekend goodbye. “If need be, I’ll go in this weekend.”
His father grimaced. “See that you do. One of these days I might need to start sending Wiew in if the situation doesn’t improve.”
Swallowing back the gall that his father just always made him feel small, useless, lazy and inadequate, Waan strove for the impassive tone. “It’ll be fine. I’ll manage. Wiew has school to focus on. I’m going upstairs.”
His father hummed, attention already turning back to the tablet before Waan had turned his back.
The second he entered his room, he let out a frustrated groan, let his head drop back against the door and stared up at the smooth plaster of the ceiling. Trying to centre himself again, he stared until his heartbeat began slowing, the muscles in his shoulders giving slightly. With a deep breath, he pushed off the door, and flicked open the game app he needed. Waiting for it to load him into it, he slumped down on the bed.
“Hi!”
The greeting startled him enough he knew he’d almost fallen asleep in the few seconds it had taken to fire up the game.
“Hi,” he returned, sensing the weight of the day starting to slip away. Another world awaited. Another Waan.
“Uh-oh. What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean, what’s wrong?” Automatically, he checked the connection bars, but they clearly showed a strong signal.
“Your voice. You sound tense.”
Amused that a person who’d never met him read him better than his entire family combined, and that without having ever seen his face, Waan sighed. “Nothing. Long day.”
“Mm,” his friend made a sympathetic noise. “Did you eat yet?”
“Ah…” Waan tried to remember when he ate. He’d had lunch, right? A vague memory of a stale sandwich appearing on his desk flashed in his mind. “I had lunch.”
“Lunch? It’s past ten. When’s dinner?”
“I don’t think I’ll have any. I’d have to go downstairs.”
And potentially face his father again. His father, who - Waan wasn’t too surprised to note - had not asked him if he’d eaten yet.
“So?”
“So, I’d rather not. Let’s just play.”
“Okay, but don’t blame me if we lose ‘cause of your low blood sugar, Wasp.”
“I’m fine, Tee, let’s just go.”
“Whatever you say, Boss, sir, yessir!” His friend joked and Waan smiled at his tone.
“Cut it out. Focus on your playing.”
o.O.o
Tul was still smiling when he closed the app for the game, stretching so his back cracked. It had been a good session, Wasp and him had laid rest to all challengers, keeping their title and rank. They’d always played well together but after two years of teamwork, they barely needed to communicate anymore and the in-sync balance kept them firmly in the lead even as thirteen-year-olds with nothing to do but play the game all day laid siege to them. By the end of it, some of the tension in Wasp’s voice had faded, and he’d even laughed a few times.
It was odd to be…well, whatever they were. Online friends. He knew Wasp in so many ways better than some of his other friends. He could easily hear his mood from the inflections of his voice, from the way he clicked the buttons or moved - when Wasp was tense he rolled his shoulders more and the fabric of his shirt would rustle. When he was tired, Tul could hear he was lying in bed from the sheets rubbing against clothes, and his voice changing tone when he laid down. Over the years it had become almost a game in itself. Reading his voice like a memo, signalling if he was hungry, tired, stressed, sad, or happy. Though to be honest, his usual state appeared to be stressed or angry. Then throughout their session, the strain would start to fade and the ease would return. His voice would stop sounding as is pressed through his throat, and every once in a while, a laugh could shine through.
Tul would have played with him because he was good and could keep up, but now he actually enjoyed hearing the shift in Wasp’s voice more. It was a heady feeling to be able to ease someone else’s mind. Tul had never been that person before. He was the one people came to for a laugh, asked about plans for parties or recommendations for bars. No one really took him seriously. Well, except Wasp, who took everything seriously.
Still smiling, Tul opened the fridge to take out a soft drink, drank half in one go standing in the kitchenette. Staring unseeingly into the lit fridge, he wondered what sort of life Wasp had. Every day lately had been the same, the tense voice, the barely suppressed anger and with frustration boiling under the surface.
That was the odd part about the friendship. He knew so much about him personally, but nothing around him. He didn’t know his name, his family, where he lived, who his friends were. All he knew was he had a high-powered job of some kind, was twenty-four years old and lived at home. And he had a strained relationship with his father. Tul knew his favourite films, books, games, animes and foods but he had no idea if they lived miles apart or next door.
Closing the door with an amused shake of the head, he turned away. Maybe not next door. From the way Wasp spoke, Tul knew they hadn’t grown up under similar circumstances. Even without the fancy gaming gear Wasp had mentioned in passing, Tul would have known he came from money from the way he spoke. Polished, barely any regional markers, the way they taught you to speak at posh schools.
Bringing the half-finished can with him, he returned to the bean bag and sank down into the comfortable dip his body had already created. It moulded to him and he sighed in content. Glancing at the clock, he noted he probably should go to bed. But he’d always been a night owl and his bed wasn’t beckoning yet. Turning his focus back on his phone, he put his idle curiosity about his friend aside. Wasp didn’t have to tell him anything he didn’t want to. They only knew each other online after all.
o.O.o
Fuming, Waan slammed the car door and set his phone in the holder. The GPS already programmed, he followed the robotic voice’s instruction off the driveway and the familiar route to the motorway. Above the sky was dark, few cars passing him this late in the evening. Everyone was home.
Not Waan Wanichakarnjonkul. His father had dispatched him the moment he got home from work with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Take care of it, Waan.”
The anthem of his life. “Take care of it, Waan.”
Clenching his teeth, his hands tightening around the steering wheel he waited for the acidic resentment to fade into the corroded defeat.
His phone chimed and the car’s voice system informed him he was receiving a voice call from “T.Rex.” He smiled at the phone’s attempt to read the nickname, then swore. He’d forgotten he’d promised Tee they were going to enter a tournament game today.
“Answer the call,” he instructed the phone’s voice command.
“Hey, Wasp. All set for…” he trailed off. “Where are you? The sound is terrible. Sounds like you’re in a tunnel.”
“I’m driving.”
“Driving?”
“I’m sorry, Tee. I completely forgot to message you. Something’s come up at work. I have to go and sort something out.”
“Now? It’s nine at night.”
“The hotel business doesn’t sleep. Ironically.”
“Oh.”
“I’m really sorry. I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“It’s not your fault. So…is it a long drive?”
“An hour and a half.”
“Geez. And it can’t wait until tomorrow?”
“Not according to my father.”
“Do you want my driving tunes playlist? It makes any car journey feel half as short.”
Waan chuckled. “I don’t really listen to music while I drive.”
“How about I keep you company then?”
“Ah…” Waan blinked. “You want to sit on the phone with me for an hour and a half while I drive to work?”
“Why not? I’d already planned to talk to you and game for at least that amount of time, if not more.”
“But…surely you must have something better to do?”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know…Studying? You’re a student, right?”
Tee made a derisive noise over the line. “Study. I studied all day. Evenings are for rest. Hadn’t you heard?”
“I might’ve heard about it,” Waan smiled to himself in the car.
“Okay, there you go then. I’ll just hang around.”
Waan couldn’t think of a reason why not. It was just…odd. No one had ever phoned him just to talk to him. His father called to instruct him, his brothers and him spoke but it was usually to catch each other up on things that were happening. So no one had really just been on the line to speak to him just to...talk.
“All right.”
“Want to play I Spy? It’ll be totally hard mode for you cause you don’t know where I am.”
The laugh caught Waan by surprise, bouncing around the empty car. His mood lifted, brightening like the sun rising over the horizon, warmth spreading.
“I do think you’d have the advantage there. How about you just tell me about your day?”
“My day?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Nothing too interesting. I had classes, and this morning when I was…”
His voice streamed from the speaker, and for a moment it almost felt like Tee was sitting right next to him.
o.O.o
Waan closed the door with his heel, looked around.
“Yep, it’s a hotel room.”
“I can’t believe you’re so unexcited by that. It’s fun to be in hotels!” Tee exclaimed.
Since the first call on the drive a few weeks ago, they had continued to just call. If Waan didn’t log on, Tee still called at the arranged hour.
“Not if you’re in them as often as I am. Then they’re just…rooms. Soulless. Similar.”
Then again, he didn’t feel at ease in his father’s house either. Perhaps he’d feel more at ease in a hotel his father didn’t own. But as it stood, every room he slept in felt like it came with his father’s eyes and ears installed in the walls.
“You can watch tv channels you don’t have, drink from the minibar, take a super long shower, steal all the shower gel.”
Waan snorted. Even if he hadn’t owned the hotel, all those things had long since lost the shine of novelty. Currently he was in a pricing discussion with the hygiene products supplier so seeing the bottles of shower gel was enough to give him a stabbing headache behind the eyes.
“I think I just want to lay down and turn off the lights.”
“Oh, you want to sleep? I’ll hang up, we can-”
“No!” It came out a little overly desperate. Waan didn’t want to spend an evening alone in a place that wasn’t home, another room and another night of only himself for company. Himself and the voice of his father, who haunted his thoughts as effectively as a Dickensian ghost. In the silence, the thoughts would churn and he’d inevitably end up in a bad mood. “No,” he repeated, calmer. “That’s not what I meant. I can still talk.”
His shoulders tensed, fingers curling tighter around his phone. “Unless you’re bored. Or you have things to do. It’s fine, you should do that, and I’ll-”
“I don’t have things to do,” Tee interrupted. “I just know how little you sleep so if you’re telling me you’re going to bed, then I’d’ve let you.”
Waan caught sight of himself in the mirror above the desk. Surrounded by the mid-budget décor, he looked pale, small and confused. It was confusing that every time he expected Tee to subscribe to all the things he usually thought about himself - that Waan was boring, that Tee spent time with him out of some misguided pity - the other man proved him wrong and it always stemmed from concern for him. He was the only person in Waan’s life who asked if he’d eaten, if he’d slept enough, if he was taking a break.
“Ah…I’m fine.” He stared into the wide eyes of his reflection. “Thanks.”
“Okay, then,” Tee’s cheery voice travelled over the line. “Then do you want to hear about my day?”
In the reflection, a smile he’d never seen on his face spread. “Yeah.” He nodded, even though Tee couldn’t see it. “Yeah, I really do.”