KinnPorsche, Childhood friend AU

Porsche's parents work for the Theerapanyakun and they grow up together.

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The wet season has come back like a young lady with her broken heart, its erratic weather is her wan moods and rains are the tears falling for her sadness. 13-year-old Kinn is striding through his mother's garden to his study, countless droplets thud on the umbrella opened wide on his head. He doesn't have a favorite season, but surely this is at the bottom of his list. So humid. Muddy all the time, dirtying his clothes and shoes.

It's hard for Kinn to be in high spirits now, especially after the long talk with his father. Suddenly, his footfalls halt, because his eyes catch a small, yellow figure huddling at the far corner of the garden.

Frowning, Kinn tries to squint through the curtain of rain to see what is that. Or, to be exact, who is that.

"...Porsche?" Kinn gawks, realizing why that figure looks so familiar. "Porsche!"

The yellow bundle – color bright like a tiny sun in the dreary daytime - startles and looks up. Oh, of course, that little troublemaker, only he would stay outside in such weather.

"Porsche!" Kinn scowls, running toward him. Murky water splashes under his heels. "What the fuck are you doing?! Do you want to get sick???"

His 10-year-old friend blinks, his yellow raincoat can't protect his face from the pelting rain, his bangs and eyelashes are soaked, "Kinn?"

"The one and only," Kinn rolls his eyes, titling the umbrella a little, letting its shadow shield Porsche. "Stand up and go inside. Aren't you cold?"

"Stop nagging! You are annoying me." The ungrateful idiot pouts, lowering his eyes, "I'm almost done."

Until now Kinn notices the boy's grimy hands, garden tools thrown around, and the pile of soil mixing with grass being dug up haphazardly.

"What are you doing?" Carefully squatting down while keeping the umbrella high enough to cover them both, the young master can't help a wince at how messy everything is, "Aunty won't be happy."

But his friend says nothing, back to focus on his task: digging deep into the soil, making a hole. He wants to bury something? Must be that because there is a small box next to his feet.

"What is this?" Kinn asks, curious, about to pock the box but his fingers are slapped away. The heir of the Theerapanyakun goggles, more surprised than offended, doesn't even pay attention to the dirt from Porsche's hand smearing on his. Porsche may be the only kid around his age who dares to hit him like that. However, the younger just ignores his scandalous expression completely.

"Be respectful! That's Mr. Greenie!" The nuisance mumbles. A furrow appears between Kinn's brows.

"...Ha?"

"Mr. Greenie! I told you about him before!" Exclaims Porsche, irked and impertinent, using a trowel to pry up some rocks, "You know, the frog!"

Oh, Kinn remembers. Porsche found a frog with a broken leg next to Khun's koi pound some days ago. Looks like that frog didn't have a long life.

When Porsche chattered like a record on the loop about his newfound 'Mr. Greenie', Kinn didn't really care, because Porsche was always like that and Kinn knew him well. As in, Kinn believes if he could, Porsche would bring home all the wildest amphibians and insects he can find as pets. And yet, Kinn recalls the boy's clear brown eyes and bright smile as he talked about his new 'friend' and how he hoped to help him. His voice sounded like wind chimes, carrying laughter, hope, and a touch of childish joy in each and every word.

Now, there is only the noise of rain pouring on a little boy huddling in the corner of the garden. In a stained yellow raincoat. Thin shoulders slumping. Kinn becomes acutely aware that his friend is only 10 years old, still a head shorter than him and his voice hasn't even cracked yet. The sadness is elephant huge, meanwhile the little boy is small like a grass leaf. Sadness blends in the rain and cries with him. Engulf him whole.

Out of the blue, Kinn feels something sick in his heart. While his father criticized him a moment ago, his chest isn't this heavy and suffocated.

Porsche finally reaches out for the box – where Mr. Greenie will lay forever – but Kinn is faster, picking it up, "Let me help." He says, quietly, putting the box down the hole. The umbrella is held firmly above their heads.

They bury Mr. Greenie in silence. Porsche's skin is so cold whenever their hands touch, Kinn is kind of worried. Porsche is just a child, he will be ill if he keeps staying outside like this. By the time they finish and stand up, they both have dirt all over, and Kinn's arms will be sore for sure. But looking at the fresh, better-than-he-imagined mound under his feet, a strange relief swells in his heart.

"P'Kinn." Porsche calls, his voice somber. "Why do we die?"

Kinn muses. What a big question. He also wants to ask many big questions, like why his mother died when Kim was born; why Khun became crazy; why his father is nothing like Tay's or Time's father; why he is chosen, not Kim, or even Vegas...

"Books say, some die so a new circle of life can start."

Kinn can guess without looking that Porsche is pursing his lips. It... sounds pretty cruel, not a satisfying answer for him, although cruelty is a dear fellow in their world. Kinn knows that even though Porsche always acted insolently toward him, this boy idolizes his young master in some way. Sadly, Kinn also knows that he is not that protruding.

The proof is he couldn't give Porsche or himself the answers they both desire. Kinn wishes he had someone to tell him, or else, just give him some instructions so he can solve them himself.

Coldness from the humid air makes him shiver. Turning to look at the other boy, Kinn suddenly feels... soft. A weak and useless feeling. It's just, Kinn always seems to hold a soft spot for this kid. The luxurious life of a mafia heir is actually much more monotonous and boring than people presume. Porsche - with all his trouble, stupidity, naïveté; along with all his kindness, liveliness, innocence - is the rare sunshine to his solemn fate. A misfit. Something doesn't belong here.

Kinn puts his arm around his younger friend, pulling him closer, not too concerned about his soaked raincoat, or his dirty hands, or his shoulder being damp because of the umbrella he's holding tilted almost entirely towards the other boy.

Rain keeps falling.