50 for KinnBig
50 - a goodbye kiss that says ''I don't love you the way you love me, and I'm setting you free''
When Porsche’s voice travels in from the hallway outside, Big pretends to be asleep.
His door crashes open a moment later, and then two sets of footsteps are approaching his bed. One set is slightly hesitant, awkward; belonging, Big assumes, to Porsche.
The other footsteps, Big would know anywhere.
“Oh,” Porsche is saying, “the nurse outside said he’d been awake today.”
“He’s just had major surgery,” Kinn says gently, “he’s going to need a lot of rest.”
His voice is low and contemplative, almost soft, and Big has to fight to keep his face still, force himself not to throw open his eyes and look, not to drink in every expression that crosses Kinn’s face, not to gasp his presence into his lungs like a man drowning.
It’s embarrassment that keeps his eyes firmly shut.
He doesn’t think he could look Porsche in the eye, look Kinn in the eye. Not now, not after what he said. After what he did.
It’s quiet for so long that Big wonders if he didn’t actually fall asleep and miss them both leaving.
Porsche breaks the silence with uncharacteristic uncertainty. “Why do you think he did it?”
Big suppresses a flinch.
Khun Kinn loves you so much.
Kinn sighs. “He’s an excellent bodyguard.”
Usually Big would be delighted with the praise. Today it sinks into his stomach, aching with something akin to grief.
Porsche doesn’t say anything to that. Big hears him scuffing his foot against the ground.
“Maybe we should come back later,” he says eventually, “when he’s awake.”
“Of course,” Kinn says, “you go ahead. I need to double check with the nurses about security.”
Big hears Porsche hum his agreement and shuffle to his feet, and then the door is swinging shut behind him and Big is alone in the room with Kinn.
The air feels thick with it; with Kinn; settling heavy on Big’s rib cage and making it hard to breathe.
Kinn’s hand settles on his shoulder. It burns like a brand.
“I wanted to say thank you,” Kinn says softly, “for what you did for Porsche.”
Big’s chest aches.
He doesn’t open his eyes.
It wasn’t for Porsche, he wants to shout, you know it wasn’t for Porsche.
Kinn squeezes his shoulder.
“You were right - I love him. I love him more than is sensible, and I - thank you.”
Kinn moves closer, and Big senses what’s about to happen milliseconds before it does. Kinn’s lips brush his cheek; light, chaste, gentle; and Big’s eyes flutter open involuntarily as Kinn pulls away.
He doesn’t look surprised to meet Big’s clearly conscious gaze. He just nods, formal and final, and collects his jacket from the arm of his chair.
“Take care of yourself, Big.”
He doesn’t say goodbye.
He doesn’t need to.
It was for you, Big lets himself admit into the emptiness he leaves behind, it’s always been for you.
kiss prompt ficlets 💖
