Beyond The Fine Line

Chapter XLVI - Connections

The holding area was suffocating. Stale, humid air clung to the room, thick with the scent of sweat. Harsh fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an unflattering, sterile glow across the cramped space. There were no windows, just concrete walls that seemed to absorb the oppressive summer heat, making it feel hotter inside than out. The mood was heavy with lingering desperation and injustice.

Fort glanced through the bars and frowned. Other cells were similar to theirs, with several young men arrested that night, sitting silently with their heads hung low. "I have a bad feeling about this," he whispered, leaning closer to Sean.

"Me too," Sean agreed, resting his back against the wall and sighed. "They seemed to go for a specific type."

His eyes widened with sudden realisation – all detainees were more or less their height and build. This could only mean one thing. Even in prison and with his assets frozen, Chaiyawat still had police on his payroll. "Fuck."

"Yeah... I'm afraid we are a bit doomed."

Fort forced a smile. "At least Win and Aom managed to get away, so it's all good. No regrets, eh? Oh wait...," he paused, then added teasingly to lighten the mood, "Maybe you should regret it? Because this time, your boyfriend is definitely going to skin you alive."

"Technically, it's not my fault."

Sitting in the corner, a man dressed in a flamboyant rainbow tie-dye t-shirt eyed Sean with a raised brow, his gaze lingering on his white short-sleeved shirt and plain black slacks. He crossed his legs dramatically, the gesture full of judgement, reflecting a sentiment that if you didn't look the part, you weren't fully part of the community. "Still in the closet?" he asked, his tone almost mocking.

"I never needed one," Sean shrugged. "As soon as I realised I'm also into guys, I just went for it. Although, I don't believe broadcasting it to everyone is necessary."

The man sneered, his expression hardening. "Oh, also into guys, huh? Convenient." His words dripped with condescension. "Some of us don't get to just pick and choose when it's easy."

It was a familiar narrative – the subtle erasure of bisexuality within a community that should understand it best. The insinuation that bisexual people were indecisive, playing both sides as if they couldn't be trusted, making them feel less authentic, less queer. Often caught between worlds, they were invisible to both: too straight to be gay, too gay to be straight. Time and time again, they faced a hurtful implication that they didn't truly belong anywhere.

Sean looked at him coldly. "This kind of attitude makes the fight for equal rights twice as difficult," he said flatly.

"Everyone can talk big, but does your boyfriend know you will ditch him for an easier option as soon as things get tough?"

Fort froze, half expecting Sean to punch the guy's lights out. But to his surprise, nothing of the sort happened. Instead, Sean smiled, the kind of smile you would give a petulant child.

"I would have to be an absolute moron to ditch a person like him for any reason."

The man opened his mouth as if to say something but then just angrily pressed his lips into a thin line and looked away.

Meanwhile, Fort grinned. To him, Sean was someone who didn't conform to stereotypes or shallow judgments, always ready to challenge narrow-minded ideas – whether subtly or directly. Maybe that's why they unanimously looked to him as their leader, less outwardly angry than Tay but just as dangerous.

A couple hours later, a sharp scraping sound cut through the tense silence – a police baton sliding slowly across the steel bars. Like an unsettling echo, it startled detainees out of their restless sleep, leaving them confused.