Learning Kim

Six

Chapter 6

"Phone!" A hand is stretched out in Porchay's direction, palm upwards, while the other still grips the gun pointing at Porchay's head; just like Porchay holds on to his phone with one hand and clutches his backpack to himself with the other. Neither will help him now and so Porchay slowly reaches out, tries to get the shaking of his hand and whole body under control but fails, and places his phone in the outstretched hand.

Porchay has never been this scared in all of his life. Not when back in first grade other kids locked him up in a cupboard, not when the debt collectors came to their house and beat them up, not when they kidnapped him. Back then he knew nothing about his mafia connections and thought these people were probably just there to rob the house. This now is different, because he knows in what kind of danger he is. This man tried killing Kim. And he is next.

The man glances at the phone, then throws it carelessly on the desk above Porchay, when he sees that there is no call ongoing and no text has been sent that would alert anyone. Finally, he lowers his gun slowly before he crouches down in front of Porchay so they are at eye level.

It's really him, Porchay thinks and still barely believes his eyes, even if there are no doubts at all. Porchay doesn't understand anything anymore. He just knows he is scared, shaking so much his teeth clatter and he will most likely die rather sooner than later.

"You... you're dead," Porchay stutters, the only thought in his head beside 'He's going to kill me'.

One eyebrow is raised in a non-verbal reply, the edge of his mouth twitching slightly in amusement. Sure, Porchay knows it might not be his brightest moment, but under the circumstances he thinks he isn't doing too bad. He will not give him the satisfaction of begging for his life.

"Come on, nong. Get out of there," Chan finally says, his voice deep and calm. He moves back slightly and holds out one hand, like he wants to help Porchay up. Porchay doesn't take it, ignores the impulse to slap it away, but crawls out anyway. It's not like he has much of a choice. He keeps holding on to his backpack as he tries to stand, but his legs buckle and he has to steady himself on the desk with one hand, ignores Chan reaching out once more.

"Slowly," Chan instructs, in what one could consider a caring tone, but it just makes Porchay shudder. "You didn't piss yourself, right?" Both look down to Porchay's crotch and he himself is relieved to find it dry. Small mercies. Then his eyes start darting around the room, looking for a way to escape, calculating the probabilities of making it out alive.

"Don't... " comes the warning. "I really don't want to hurt Kimmy's crush," Chan shakes his head, rips the backpack out of Porchay's hands impatiently, throws it onto the desk and then grabs Porchay's by his shoulder, leading him out to the kitchen where he pushes him down on one of the chairs. "Here," he says and places the food in front of him that Porchay warmed up earlier. Porchay stares at the plate, unable to process any of what is happening to him. Is this his last supper or what's going on?

"Kimmy?" He asks dumbly, because it's the first thing registering in his mind, amongst the blur of fear and desperation.

"I raised the little terror, I'm allowed to call him that." Chan hands him a spoon and places another iced tea in front of him. "Knew you were the one who stole my food when I saw you in the lobby. I hope you liked it at least."

"I'm... not hungry," Porchay mutters. He could not possibly eat. And he will not tell this psychopath that he's a good cook.

"At least drink this disgusting sugary mess. All these bottles are taking up too much space in the fridge. Kim went a bit overboard when he bought them all for you." Chan even opens the bottle for him and ignores it when Porchay spills half of it when he tries to drink, because his hands are still shaking so bad.