Work Text:
Jim doesn't notice the kid because he's a sex worker; that's not uncommon in Pattaya. What's notable is that when the kid shows up at the food truck, he inhales all the chicken rice he can get. He's pretty in the way the foreign tourists enjoy, slim with good cheekbones. They probably don't realize he's hungry. Or think their money is doing him a favor.
The kid also watches when Jim and Wen sign with each other, but with intent curiosity, almost as if he understands. Enough that one slow night when Jim takes the food over, he signs, "What's your name?"
The kid shakes his head, so Jim repeats himself, saying the words out loud as well. The kid copies him, willing to take correction to get it right. Then he frowns, and tries to sign back, "My name is—" He shrugs, and says, "Lom."
Wind is an easy sign to remember, so Jim teaches him that, and then introduces himself. "I own this place," he adds, still feeing a burr of satisfaction and pride about that. "My nephew's boyfriend is deaf."
Lom nods. "He helps out here sometimes? Brown hair?"
So the kid has been paying a lot of attention. "That's my boyfriend. The kids are in the US, working and studying."
Just like that, Lom's expression shutters, and he looks down at his meal. Jim doesn't know what he said wrong, but it's not his place to ask. He tells Lom to have a good meal, and heads back inside.
The next time he sees Lom, it's a wet night, too windy to put umbrellas up over the tables so Jim's just doing takeaway. Business is terrible, but he knows he can afford one bad night.
He's not sure Lom can, though. The kid's wearing his usual loose sleeveless shirt over short shorts, and he's soaked. Worse than that, someone's beaten him pretty recently. His arms are wrapped around his stomach, and his gaze is fuzzy.
Jim knows it could be drugs, and even cute kids can carry knives and rob old men, but he's constitutionally incapable of turning away strays. He tells Lom to get inside, and gives him dishtowels to dry off with and a spare t-shirt to change into. When he's satisfied, he sits Lom down and asks him what he wants to eat.
"I don't have any money," Lom says. "I thought… maybe you'd let me wash dishes."
Jim's glad the kid's plan wasn't to pay for dinner with sex. He fills a plate and sets it on the counter, nodding at it with his chin. "Eat. You need extra sauce?"
Lom shakes his head no. He eats awkwardly, with the wrong hand, and Jim starts to suspect he's got a broken arm. He takes out his phone, opens it to the message app, and shows the screen to Lom, so he doesn't get scared. "I'm going to ask my boyfriend if you can spend the night at our place. The sofa's comfortable, and you can take a shower."
Lom looks like he wants to say no, but also like he can't. He has no reason to trust that Jim won't hurt him once they're behind a locked door. He shrugs anyway, and Jim lets Wen know.
Is he allergic to cats tho Wen replies.
Jim asks, and dutifully relays Lom's no. He also, since Lom doesn't ask to see their messages, tells Wen everything he knows about Lom.
If you turn my home office into a bedroom you are going to OWE me, Wen writes back.
Lom is a very quiet houseguest, but by morning he's also feverish. Wen knows a very good doctor who's sympathetic and not judgemental; Lom tells the doctor that he'd been ambushed, robbed, and raped the night before, and that no, he won't consider a police report. His voice is flat, tinged with anger, but he starts crying and can't make himself stop. Jim and Wen take turns holding him while his broken arm and other injuries are taken care of.
Waiting outside the clinic's pharmacy, the sobs finally fade into hiccuping gasps, and Lom repeats over and over, "I want Saifah."
Wen asks, taking notes, and calls a friend who knows someone who knows a good gay lawyer in the capital.
In the car on the way home Lom tries to refuse any further help. "It's expensive," he protests. "You don't even know me."
"Yeah," Wen agrees, "but you don't know us. Especially him." He takes a hand off the steering wheel to poke Jim in the shoulder in warning, but there's nothing Wen can say that Jim'll object to. "He and his sister were runaways, like you. Only a long, long time ago."
Jim pokes him back, eyeing Lom in the rearview mirror. "It wasn't easy, but we had each other's backs, and things got better. I've taken in and raised two kids, who both have their own families now. I've got Wen and my business, and money in the bank that we're only saving for a trip."
"We don't need to go this year," Wen says, as if he knows Jim wants to say it but the lie catches in his throat. "I love Jim because he cares so much."
Jim feels his cheeks heat, and hopes Lom can't see.
Wen emails the big-city lawyer while Jim gets Lom settled on the sofa, with food and his medicine, a mug of tea, and Jimbo curled up on his feet, purring as Lom drops into deep sleep. Unlike Wen, Jim has no work-from-home option, so he heads out as usual, but Wen sends updates. Lom's fever breaks late afternoon; he takes a bath and has congee for dinner; he goes back to sleep; the cat has adopted him and Wen's jealous.
Wen has an early meeting the next day, so he wakes Jim before he goes. Jim's half-asleep as he makes breakfast, which is why he startles when Lom sits down with him at the table, moving slow and stiffly.
"Sorry," Lom says.
Jim waves the apology off. He serves him up a plate and asks how he's feeling.
"Fine." Lom picks up his spoon and pokes at his food but doesn't eat, then glances up at Jim from under his lashes. "I don't feel anything. Just… empty."
Jim nods, and points at Lom's cast. "Same as that, it's your mind protecting what's broken until it heals." Lom's stare is skeptical. Jim takes a bite of his eggs and changes the subject. "What do you want to do today? I have some DVDs and books if you're bored."
"Could you teach me sign language?"
"Sure," Jim says. He doesn't think it'll be easy, with Lom's dominant arm in a cast, but what else are they going to do, have awkward conversations for hours on end? It's a better idea than teaching Lom to cook, though Jim was prepared to make that offer if necessary to save his sanity.
He gets his books, the laptop, and some blank paper for taking notes, and Lom throws himself into study like it's his natural habitat. Jim can easily imagine him as a student—he doesn't look old enough to be in university, so perhaps high school—with color-coded notes and sticky memos in his books. Heart's like that, and he's smart enough to be studying computer engineering in the U.S. But Lom said yesterday that his parents died and left him in his brother's care, but his brother's in prison, so it's easy to imagine how he lost the future he wanted for himself.
Jim doesn't realize the time until the computer plays music to let him know he has a call, and it's second nature to swing the screen over and say good morning-slash-good night to Li Ming.
"You're awake early," Li Ming says with a wide grin. After all this time he's still delighted that he can tease Jim for not being a morning person. "Dressed and everything." He signs an all-clear to Heart, even though they've only caught Jim actually naked three times in as many years.
"You need to go to bed," Jim signs when Heart steps into frame and waves. His schedule is taped under the keyboard, for accuracy in nagging. "You have a nine o'clock class." He shifts the laptop so Lom comes into view. "Say hi. We have a houseguest, this is Lom."
Lom is startled for one moment, long enough to give Jim a dirty look, but he introduces himself and learns the signs for Li Ming and Heart's names, and he even smiles as they fall into a conversation that's a rapid mix of Thai, English, and sign language. Jim's content to hover in the background, only occasionally interrupting when he catches Li Ming calling him his old man (he knows enough English to pretend to be annoyed). Li Ming and Heart throw open their bedroom window to show the blanket of snow on the ground, with more still falling, and Jim insists that they get off the call and get under the blankets before they freeze.
After they've said their goodbyes and ended the call, Jim misses Li Ming instantly, and he tries not to calculate how long it'll take to save up the airfare all over again if Wen has to hire a lawyer. But he leans back in his chair and gives Lom a smile. "Snow," he signs, shaking his head, and then says, "Even the aircon's too much for me."
Lom practices signing his numbers by arguing for Jim to turn the temperature down to twenty-five, or at least twenty-six, while Jim insists that's unhealthy. He does check the kid's temperature, though, and he's warm enough that Jim makes him go lie on the sofa and keep Jimbo company.
He cleans up the kitchen, and lets Wen know what's up (the kid's napping again). Li Ming's sent a message, worried about Lom and hoping Jim's not mixed up in anything dangerous. Whoever beat him up's not coming after you, right? he asks, and Jim assures him it's nothing dramatic like that.
He's a runaway who's had a rough time.
The three dots barely have time to flicker before Li Ming's message arrives. You're going to offer him a job, aren't you.
What else can Jim do? Go to bed.
His phone vibrates again, and his temper starts to give way. He likes having adult relationships with Li Ming and Saleng, he enjoys getting to know the men they've grown up into, but they don't need to be involved in every aspect and decision of his life.
His irritation pops like a balloon when he sees the new message is from Wen, and he makes himself walk into the quiet sanctuary of their bedroom and flop back on the bed before reading.
leaving work early can you make sure the house is clean I have NEWS
Jim stares up at the ceiling and contemplates Wen's incoherence. He sends off a quick you're pregnant? before sitting up and looking around. Their house is always clean, except for when the laundry's accidentally left within Jimbo's reach.
Wen sends him a photo of a missing persons poster—Lom is apparently short for Sailom—and a rude emoji. The lawyer found the brother, he's out of prison, they're on the way here.
Huh. Jim had imagined the process taking days or weeks, and that he'd have to borrow a car to drive Lom hours away to reunite with his brother through wire mesh. This is the best outcome, he decides, and texts to ask Saleng if he could do him a huge favor and run the food truck tonight. (👍, Saleng replies.)
Wen bustles through the door not fifteen minutes later with two bags of panic shopping: bottled drinks, crisp packets, takeaway from the shop on the corner, cat treats, and Korean instant noodles that he says were on sale, but that they definitely don't need. Jim puts an arm around him and holds him still until he slumps and leans into Jim's side.
"I just want to be Jimbo's favorite person again," Wen says, tucking his head against Jim's shoulder. "You know me."
"Thank you," Jim says, and kisses his forehead.
The sweetness lasts a minute or so, until Lom staggers up from his nap, heading for the bathroom but giving an utterly mortified look at witnessing them in a clench of passion, or something.
"Hi," Wen says, too brightly, and Lom scurries to get out of the way.
"Should we tell him?" Wen asks, eyeing the bathroom door. "Do you think he'd run?"
Jim shakes his head. "Nah. Waiting would be terrible. What if they get stuck in traffic, or get lost, and we're just sitting here—" he indicates the kitchen table "—with nothing to do but eat the unhealthy snacks you bought?"
Wen's phone pings before he can agree that Jim makes sense, and he gives Jim an unsubtle nod after he checks his notifications. Jim heads downstairs, announcing loudly that he's going to collect a food delivery; he doubts Lom cares, but he hopes it does something for Wen's nerves.
An expensive car is parked in front of the building, but the man who climbs out of the back is wearing scrubs and sneakers. He looks like he's lost a lot of weight and sleep recently, but he stares up at Jim with a desperate, hungry hope.
"Wen?" he asks, almost breathlessly. "I'm Saifah." His eagerness probably makes him look younger than he is, but he's just a kid, too.
Jim goes down the steps. "Wen's my boyfriend, he's upstairs with Lom. I'm Jim, I want—I need to talk to you."
Saifah crosses his arms, and two men get out of the car. One of them's dressed like a fashion model: probably the lawyer. He looks ready to unleash fury. The driver is shorter but made of solid muscle. Jim would be intimidated if he was trying to do anything but protect Lom, but as that is his intent, he just holds his hands out at his sides and meets Saifah's eyes.
"Lom's been surviving off sex work. I don't know if Wen told you. Don't make him feel ashamed, he's a great kid, a regular at my food truck. He was assaulted the other night and came to me. We took him to the doctor, I can give you the papers and his medicine. His face is bruised and he has a broken arm. So far he's clear for STIs, but some test results take more time."
Saifah's breathing is starting to get ragged, and Jim steps forward, offering a hug. It's awkward, Saifah stiff and fighting to get himself under control and Jim not exactly good at this kind of thing.
Saifah steps away after a moment, collecting himself, and Jim stares past him at the lawyer, who's been listening intently despite the driver tugging at his sleeve, trying to drag him away. "Wen said some rich guy's offering a reward."
The lawyer smiles, bright and false, as if he has just been profoundly disappointed by Jim. "The fabulously wealthy politician whose life Saifah saved, yes."
Jim nods, reassured. Some people deserve to give their money away. "I want all the reward money, and I'll pay you when I get it. Then you help me give it to Saifah so Lom can get therapy, maybe go to school if there's any left over." He smiles at the lawyer. "I run a very successful food truck. I'm rolling in money."
The lawyer's eyes sweep from Jim's cheap sandals, over his threadbare jeans and t-shirt, and finally meet his gaze. "I can see that." He thrusts his hand out imperiously. "Give me a baht, to symbolize the start of our working relationship."
Jim obliges, and puts his hand on Saifah's shoulder. "You ready to go up?"
"I'm not crying," Saifah says, even though his eyes shine suspiciously as they head for the elevators. "It's been almost a year. Fuck. I promised to be there for him."
"You're here now."
"Yeah." In the elevator, he swipes his eyes clear and runs his fingers through his hair. "Months too late."
"He's alive," the driver says, the first time he's spoken. "As long as he's alive, nothing else matters."
Jim realizes with a start what's been niggling at the back of his mind: Saifah reminds him of Beam. The same small eyes that make his irises look huge, worry lines forming in the same places. If Beam was alive… his life might be very different now. He's relieved when the doors open on the sixth floor, and he can occupy himself with delivering everyone to the condo.
As soon as Lom spots Saifah he launches up and stumbles halfway to the door. By then Saifah's already there, grabbing Lom and hugging him tight, saying he's sorry, he should never have left Sailom alone, that he missed him and thought about him, every minute of every day. That he loves him.
Jim pulls Wen to him and wraps his arms around his waist. For this one moment, he feels pure happiness, bright as a lotus flower. He's glad for Lom, reunited with his brother. For Li Ming and Heart, off in America, and for Saleng and Praew and baby Jason (who's been taught to call him grand-dad). For his sister, and the family she has with Tong. For Gaipa and Alan, with their quiet romance and willingness to forgive both Wen and Jim. He's even willing to extend his familial good wishes to the lawyer, crying over by the window, and his driver, dabbing away the tears with a handkerchief.
(Then Wen stretches up to whisper in his ear, "Don't lie to me, you want to adopt them both, don't you? You and your empty nest syndrome."
Jim shrugs and kisses Wen's nose, just because it's in reach. "You said Lom could have your office. You thought of it before me."
"I'm a cat person, not a kid person," Wen says, but he's weakening. Jim can tell.)