Bad Romance

So What?

Something had snapped inside Kong, everyone could see that but nobody dared to comment at it until it was M,

“Kong, you look dead.” M had said rather jokingly before laughing a little but the way Kong glared at him made M fall silent at once.

Maybe a part of Kong was dead, maybe not, Kong didn’t know, he only knew that he was spending his days in a kind of daze, his hands shaking during the shooting practice, the image of Porsche’s dead body haunting not only his dreams but it felt like it was etched to his head, every time he closed his eyes, Porsche’s dead eyes would be staring at him.

He couldn’t sleep until he had smoked atleast a pack of cigarettes and drunk a bottle of any alcohol he could get his hands on.

Kong would be standing outside by the end of the hallway of the compound, staring up at the night sky, the moon, while smoking and downing a the glass of alcohol, it was the only time he felt a little close to silence and solace in the whole chaos of his mind felt like…

And when he woke up, he ate the proper meals, went through the trainings, smiled at those who smiled at him and then suddenly out of nowhere he would suddenly zone out, abruptly stop and his hands turning cold when he remembered his thumb against Arthit’s neck, Arthit’s hand holding the blade against Porsche's neck.

Everyone was noticing that Kong was changing, his lanky self was changing into a stronger self, muscles defining his body, his eyes had somewhat lost the shine of innocence but at the same time holding some kind of fire in them, like hatred.

Everyone looked at a fresh faced and seemingly normal Kong, nobody knew how he was downing those drinks and smoked until he could sleep with a blank head.

Kong got alcohol and cigarettes from anyone, any worker he could ask, no one dared to refuse him, as if they were scared, not of Kong but of Arthit.

That their master might kill them if they denied Kong anything, as if Kong was someone very dear to Arthit and not to be messed with.

Kong met Arthit rarely after that meeting, Arthit was usually at the shooting practice watching Kong.

Kong’s fingers would shiver grasping the gun, Arthit never commented on it, because Kong hit all the targets anyway, they never spoke a word to each other anymore, as if it was given whatever it was, and there was nothing to be communicated about.

Otherwise Kong was just working, the two mafia clans were in enmity and Kong had to work to procure out all the information on Kirati, his empire, anything.

Despite it all, Kong had realised all his fears of Arthit had vanished somewhere, as if he knew a secret of Arthit and that made Kong so casual and fearless around him.

“Sorry, I zoned out.” Kong tried to smile, realising how M froze for a second before breathing out and smiled back.

“Kong.”

“Yeah.”

“Is there… is there something wrong?” M asked, almost stepping into the unknown.


Kong was silent, trying to focus on his book, they were settled in the canteen, there was food, and Kong couldn’t take another bite.


Is there something wrong?

Kong didn’t know, he felt hollow, empty, devoid of every emotion, he couldn’t feel anything but numbness, like he was in shock.

“Kong? My uncle is a therapist, I could get you-” 

Kong looked up to meet M's eyes and the way M looked scared, as if he was discovering something in Kong.


“Kong… I'm… sorry, but I need to tell you something… you remember how I have my additional subject in clinical psychology, every time I study about….” M's voice was trailing as if it was difficult for him to speak up and suddenly Kong found himself too interested in whatever M had to say.