Tanned Leather & White Lace [+18]

7

"You know the rules. No mercy. No expectations."

That sentence often echoed in Pete's head, randomly popping up like a freaking ad on Dramacool when the characters are finally about to kiss for the first time after twelve episodes, each an hour long. It also did when he was just trying on a new pair of skinny jeans, convincing himself he could rock a size he hadn't worn since he was seventeen. And it also happened the morning after he had sex with his boss' cousin.

No mercy. No expectations.

And every time, this sentence came with the jaded and hoarse voice of his father echoing in his head. It was a line he used to say to Pete when he was barely a teenager, back when he caught his son pretending to throw punches at the air or imitating Mike Tyson the first time he saw him on TV. His father didn't miss the fact that his own son was naturally drawn to boxing and had a real talent for it.

But what Pete's dad didn't know was that Pete's fascination with boxing started way back when he was barely six years old: when small Pete, wide-eyed, perched on his mother's lap, watched his own dad step into the ring.

The whole scene was like something out of a movie, with his mom and the crowd going wild, cheering for his dad like he was some kind of superhero. He remembers how his mom winced when dad took a rough uppercut, and how her eyes sparkled when his father eventually emerged victorious. Pete was mesmerized, thinking his dad was the coolest guy ever.

He could still picture it clear as day: his father, all pumped up after the ref declared him the winner, rushing to embrace him and his mother. His father, a sweaty, bruised, and bloody mess, but still the hero in their eyes. His mother showering him with praise, telling him how proud she felt, how amazing he was, while his father was busy pinching Pete's baby cheeks, looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the entire universe.

That day, Pete made himself a promise: when he grows up, he's going to be a boxer too. He'll be in that ring, duking it out until his fist is the one raised high in victory. Then, he'll stroll out between those ropes, straight into the arms of his future wife and kid.

Well, that was supposed to be the plan. But there were a few little changes along the way, if you could even call it that. Clearly, Pete wasn't a boxer. He had no wife, no kid, and this version of the story happened way back before his dad turned into a total psycho.

But, despite himself, that sentence had etched itself into his brain, and he'd think it'd be pretty easy to follow those rules, actually. Even though his father turned out to be the biggest jerk on earth, traumatizing his mother and Pete until his dying breath, he insisted it was supposed to be something that could help Pete navigate the social seas, turning him into a "real man"—tough, strong, dominating, and yeah, very much straight. The kind of alpha male who doesn't show compassion while also not expecting anything from others. A mindset where forgiveness or kindness are foreign concepts, and where you don't expect to receive them either. A mindset pretty accurate and useful in the mafia world, actually.

But Pete never quite mastered this. Well, actually he never mastered this. It seemed that Pete wasn't wired that way and took more of his mother than his old man. Compassion and kindness were practically ingrained in his DNA — those things that made him "a pussy," "gay," or "a girl," yeah, his father's charming vocabulary, not his.

As he grew up, Pete realized that the people around him were the ones actually enforcing the rules... on him. They showed no kindness or understanding toward him or anyone else around them neither. So, Pete did actually learn not to expect anything from anyone, especially in his job, especially with a father like his...

Until enter Khun Vegas, the unexpected game-changer in Pete's world.

Yes, suddenly Pete found himself grappling with this weird sensation creeping up inside him—an annoying itch deep in his brain, the kind you can never really locate, the one you scratch at but it always seems to move somewhere else. A nagging feeling, the one that whispers, "Hey, maybe something's up here and it's not just the voice of your father." He couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, there was something more that might come out of this night, something that might come out of Khun Vegas, out of whatever happened between them.