Threads of Destiny

2.

The years passed, and Porsche’s devotion to Kinn only deepened. Now fifteen, Porsche was no longer the little boy who followed Kinn around blindly. He had grown into a thoughtful, creative teenager who spent his days sketching portraits of people, nature, and sometimes, Kinn. But those sketches were kept hidden in a private sketchbook, safely tucked away under his bed. He dared not show him; he feared what he might think.

Kinn had changed too. At eighteen, he had fully embraced his role as the heir of Theerapanyakun Enterprises. He was busy most days, working alongside his father Korn and learning the ropes of the massive business empire. Yet, whenever he could, he made time for Porsche. He was still his best friend, the one person who never asked anything of him but his company.

They sat in Kinn's backyard one late afternoon. The sun was beginning to set, casting a golden glow over the sprawling estate. Porsche sat beside him, sketching the garden, but his eyes kept drifting toward Kinn.

He looked different now—his face more chiseled, his frame broader, his presence more commanding. His dark hair was slicked back, and his gaze was focused on his phone, probably dealing with business matters as usual. The carefree boy he once was seemed to have disappeared, replaced by someone more serious, more distant.

"Kinn,"

Porsche began hesitantly, his voice soft.

"Hmm?"

Kinn responded, not looking up from his phone.

Porsche hesitated, his heart pounding. This wasn’t the first time he had tried to gather the courage to say what he had been feeling for years now, but the words always got stuck in his throat. This time, though, he was determined.

"I have to tell you something important,"

he said, his voice trembling slightly.

Kinn finally looked up, putting his phone down.

"What is it, Porsche?"

He took a deep breath, his palms suddenly sweaty.

"I… I think I’ve been in love with you for a long time."

Kinn stared at him, blinking as if he hadn’t quite processed what he had just said. Porsche’s heart raced in the silence that followed, his stomach twisting into painful knots. He felt exposed, vulnerable, waiting for his response.

"You’re… in love with me?"

Kinn repeated slowly, his tone laced with confusion.

Porsche nodded, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I’ve always admired you, Kinn. Ever since we were kids. But now… it’s more than that."

Kinn sat back, rubbing his temple with his hand. He let out a soft sigh, clearly uncomfortable.

"Porsche… you’re like my little brother. I don’t know if what you’re feeling is love. Maybe it’s just because we’ve been so close for so long."

Porsche's heart sank. He could feel the rejection coming even before he said it, but hearing the words hurt more than he could have imagined.

"Kinn, it’s not like that. It’s real,"

Porsche insisted, his voice trembling.

"I’ve thought about it for so long, and I know what I feel."

Kinn shook his head, his expression soft but firm.

"You’re fifteen, Porsche. I think you’re just confused. I’m too old for you to feel that way about me. And besides, I only see you as a friend—family."

His words felt like a punch to his chest. He had imagined this moment in so many different ways, but he never thought it would end like this. He thought maybe—just maybe—Kinn might feel the same way. But the reality was crushing.

"Kinn, please… I’m not confused,"

Porsche whispered, his eyes filling with tears.

Kinn reached out and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Porsche you’re going to meet so many people in your life. One day, you’ll find someone who makes you feel things you never imagined. But that person isn’t me."

Porsche pulled away from his touch, the tears spilling over now. He had never felt so humiliated, so heartbroken. Kinn was still looking at him with concern, but all he could see was the rejection written all over his face.

"I’m sorry, Porsche," Kinn added softly, standing up. "I didn’t mean to hurt you."

But he had, deeply. Porsche could barely muster a response. He wiped his tears and stood up shakily, his mind racing with thoughts of escape.

"I need to go,"

he whispered, turning away from him before he could see him break down completely.

Kinn reached for him, but he was already walking away. He watched him go, a strange sense of unease settling in his chest. He hadn’t expected this from Porsche , hadn’t realized how deep his feelings for him ran. But in his mind, he was still that little boy who followed him everywhere, and he couldn’t see him any other way.

As Porsche walked home, the weight of Kinn’s words pressed down on his chest like a thousand bricks. The tears wouldn’t stop, no matter how hard he tried to blink them away. He felt foolish, like a child who had misunderstood the rules of a game he never had a chance of winning.

That night, he cried himself to sleep, clutching hidy sketchbook to her chest. The drawings he had once made of Kinn now felt like painful reminders of a love that would never be returned.