Caught in Possession

The Storm Surge

TW:

Mention of past domestic violence.
Drug-related storyline.

Original characters' name meaning list:
Two more to add!

Aat (Head of Lang family) - daring
Kraisee (son of Aat) - lion

~~

"Can I trust you Gulf?"

Mew's words flickered like dancing shadows in the silver-lit air between them, the younger man's brow knotted, eyes busy, until at last, defensively:

"I don't know. It depends whose side you're on..."

It was the right answer, it seemed, the elder man nodding approvingly at his caution. Trust was surely hard to come by in their world.

So he elaborated, reassuring:

"We share a common enemy, you and I"

"You mean...?"

"Shai krub. I have the bare bones of your story - I've seen their mark on you, the Lang mark, I know what it signifies" - a grimace contorting Mew's face then, as he lifted the freshly rinsed cup Gulf had set down on the coffee table, spitting out into it with venomous disgust, as if just the thought alone of that dragon's stamp branded harshly, forcibly, onto the younger's skin was bitterest, fresh poison to his being.

Then he reached across in the darkness to place a warm hand on Gulf's thigh - squeezing, unspoken encouragement.

And after some moments of digestion, the younger man voiced:

"But...I thought you were all in league together, the Langs and the Jongcheveevats?"

"Some of us are. The elder generation mostly. Aat Lang - the acting head of their network - and his cronies. My father Kittichat, my uncle Channarong. They're all smoking room buddies, ensuring every deal is mutually beneficial to both parties. Unscrupulous - gluttonous for wealth - no matter how many lives are ruined in the process"

"A mutually beneficial deal. Like me, right?", Gulf's tone was hard, emotionless, business-like in discussing the business of himself.

But Mew's eyes that met his were soft. An ocean of lamenting sadness in the face of such a statement.

"Like I said...unscrupulous", he answered gently - that voice that only Gulf heard - hand shifting from the younger's thigh to clasp a hand instead. Bringing it instinctively to his own lips, where he brushed a light kiss against smooth knuckles, bowing his head low as he did so - a show of respect and deference. Rehumanising the man before him.

And Gulf felt heat burn and prickle the back of his eyes at the symbolic gesture - unshed tears fighting to be spilled, busting to be expressed - yet pride wouldn't allow it. Being an object of possession since the age of eleven, emotional storm surge barriers could not be so easily overcome, even by a sea so deep and powerful as Mew Suppasit.

Irritated by his internal fluster, Gulf forced a refocus:

"So what about the younger generations? The end of the beautiful Lang-Jongcheveevat love story?"

But it was an unexpected, unidentifiable sound that escaped Mew's body then. Somewhere between a snort of irony and a gasp of pain, as he abruptly released Gulf's hand and rose to stand, facing away and shrouded in heavy gloom.

Relative silence again - only a steady, rhythmical dripping of the tap Gulf had used minutes earlier, and the empty, hollow wailing and longing of a late February wind against the windows.