Work Text:
Rain loved Pete.
Pete made pancakes with smiley faces. Pete tucked him in and told stories where the hero always won. Pete held his hand when the world got too loud, too big.
But Vegas?
Vegas was... scary.
He never yelled. He never raised a hand. But something in the way he looked—too sharp, too quiet, too still—made Rain’s small body lock up like he’d done something wrong just by breathing.
Rain didn’t speak much when Vegas was in the room. He’d hide behind Pete’s leg. Or his sketchbook. Or the kitchen counter. Anywhere but near him.
Pete always said, “He’s good, Rain. He loves you too.”
But Rain wasn’t sure. He’d been promised love before. That love had left bruises. That love had walked out. That love had hurt.
So he clung to Pete. And tiptoed around Vegas like a ghost.
The Day Pete Wasn’t Home
“Rain,” Pete kissed his forehead. “I’ll be back after lunch. Just a couple of hours. You’ll be with Vegas, okay?”
Rain stiffened, small fingers tightening around Pete’s jacket.
Pete crouched to meet his eyes. “You’ll be safe. I promise.”
Rain didn’t reply. Just nodded.
And then Pete left.
The silence after the door closed was too loud.
Vegas sat on the couch, tablet in hand, glancing once at Rain.
Rain stood frozen by the wall.
“Hungry?” Vegas asked.
Rain didn’t answer.
Vegas didn’t push.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
Rain crept into the kitchen, his stomach growling. Quiet as he could.
He reached up for the cereal box, but it tipped—and spilled.
A loud clatter.
Rain flinched. His breath caught. He waited for yelling. For footsteps. For pain.
Instead, he heard quiet footsteps... and a sigh.
Vegas knelt beside him. Not angry. Not loud.
Just… calm.
“Let’s clean it up.”
Rain stared, confused. No slap. No glare. Just… a cloth.
Vegas handed him one. Wordless.
They cleaned in silence.
Then Vegas asked, “Want rice and eggs?”
Rain nodded slowly.
Small Moments
They sat at the table. Rain ate slowly, cautiously.
Vegas didn’t eat. Just drank coffee and watched his tablet.
Then he spoke again. “You like frogs.”
Rain’s head jerked up. His sketchbook lay nearby, open to a messy crayon drawing of a frog with sunglasses.
Rain didn’t reply.
Vegas set something on the table. A tiny frog keychain. Soft, green, plush.
Rain blinked.
“I saw it last week,” Vegas said simply. “Thought you’d like it.”
Rain reached for it like it might vanish.
“…Thanks,” he whispered.
Vegas didn’t smile. But he nodded. Like that was enough.
The Storm
Around noon, the thunder rolled in.
Rain hated storms. The sound. The shaking windows. The flashing light.
He curled into a ball in Pete’s room, hugging his frog keychain. Breathing fast. He didn’t cry. Crying never helped before.
The door creaked open.
Vegas stood there. Holding a blanket. And warm cocoa.
Rain looked up, panicked.
Vegas didn’t come closer. He knelt at the doorway. Placed the blanket down. Set the cup beside it.
“You don’t have to talk,” Vegas said quietly. “You don’t even have to come near me.”
Rain stared.
“I’m not here to scare you, Rain,” Vegas said. “I just want you warm.”
He left the door open. Sat against the wall outside. Silent.
Rain waited.
One minute.
Two.
Then, quietly, Rain crawled forward. Pulled the blanket around himself. Picked up the cocoa. Sat where he could still see Vegas, but not too close.
Vegas didn’t look over.
Rain whispered, “The thunder sounds like yelling.”
Vegas’s head turned slightly.
“…I know,” he said softly. “It scared me, too. When I was small.”
Rain’s eyes widened.
“You?” he whispered.
Vegas gave the faintest nod. “Everyone thinks I’ve always been strong. I wasn’t.”
Rain clutched his cup tighter.
“…You’re not mad?”
Vegas shook his head. “Never at you.”
Rain looked down. “They used to get mad. When I was scared.”
Vegas’s voice broke, barely audible. “Then they didn’t deserve you.”
When Pete Came Home
Rain was asleep on the couch. Blanket wrapped around him. Frog keychain clutched to his chest.
Vegas was sitting nearby, reading softly from Rain’s sketchbook like it was a treasure.
Pete entered quietly, blinking in surprise.
Vegas just held a finger to his lips and whispered, “He talked to me.”
Pete’s eyes softened.
“Did he draw this one for you?” he whispered, pointing to a drawing of a frog hugging a very tall man in a black suit.
Vegas stared.
Then smiled. Just a little.
One Week Later
Rain still clung to Pete like a shadow, but things had changed.
Just a little.
When Vegas walked into the room now, Rain didn’t flinch. He didn’t run.
Sometimes, he even looked up.
He still didn’t speak much to him. Not directly. But sometimes he would nod. Or place his frog keychain near Vegas's coffee cup while eating breakfast, like a silent offering.
Vegas didn’t comment on it. He just moved the keychain beside his phone and gave it a respectful glance.
Pete noticed it all with quiet joy.
“Rain,” he whispered one evening, running his fingers through the boy’s soft hair as Rain curled beside him on the couch, “you know it’s okay to love more than one person, right?”
Rain blinked up at him.
Pete kissed his forehead. “I’ll always be your safe place. But Vegas can be that too.”
Rain didn’t answer. But he looked thoughtful.
The Frog Garden
It was Pete’s idea.
“I want to build a little frog garden with you,” he told Rain. “But I’ll be working all day tomorrow. What if you and Vegas start it together?”
Rain hesitated. “Just us?”
Pete nodded. “But you’re not alone anymore. You’ve got him.”
Rain didn’t sleep much that night.
The next morning, he sat at the breakfast table, a tiny frog sticker stuck to his shirt, and quietly said, “We can plant them near the tree.”
Vegas looked up, startled.
Then he gave the softest of nods. “Okay.”
They spent the morning in the backyard, the air warm and fresh after last night’s rain.
Rain wore little gloves too big for his hands. Vegas wore none.
They planted ceramic frogs Pete had collected. Five of them. Each with a silly face. Rain gave them names.
He didn’t speak much while digging, but he giggled when Vegas tried to plant one upside down.
“No, not like that,” Rain said quietly, reaching over to fix it. “He’s not a bat frog.”
Vegas smiled. “Good catch.”
The Blanket Fort
By afternoon, the sky darkened again. Another storm was coming.
Vegas didn’t ask. He just started dragging pillows and blankets into the living room.
Rain tilted his head. “What’re you doing?”
Vegas raised a brow. “Building something.”
Rain watched for a while… then joined in silently.
Together, they built a giant, ridiculous blanket fort—string lights, cushions, a tiny gap in the front like a secret cave.
Inside, Rain curled up with his frog plushie and pointed at the rain-streaked window.
“Storm’s not yelling as loud today,” he said quietly.
Vegas nodded. “You’re stronger than the storm.”
Rain’s eyes flickered toward him.
“…You’re not as scary as you look.”
Vegas smirked. “Neither are you.”
A giggle. “I’m not scary.”
“Right now you look like a pillow monster,” Vegas teased, tossing a soft cushion gently onto Rain’s lap.
Rain shrieked with laughter.
And Vegas felt something shift in his chest.
The Moment
That night, Pete came home late.
He walked into a quiet living room.
Rain was fast asleep in Vegas’s lap. Blanket tangled around them. Frog plushie tucked under one arm. Vegas sat completely still, afraid to wake him.
Pete’s breath caught.
Vegas looked up at him, something helpless and tender in his eyes.
“He built the frogs a kingdom,” Vegas whispered.
Pete smiled so softly it hurt.
He stepped closer. “Did he say anything else?”
Vegas hesitated. Then nodded.
“Before he fell asleep... he mumbled something.”
Pete tilted his head.
Vegas looked down at Rain.
“He said, ‘Papa, don’t forget my frog.’”
Silence.
Then Pete crouched beside him. One hand cupping Vegas’s cheek. The other brushing Rain’s hair.
And together, in the safety of the blanket fort, with thunder muffled in the distance, they both held the child they had saved.
The child who had started to choose them back.
Rain was seventeen.
Sharp-tongued. Frog-hoodie wearing. Brilliant at design, terrible at math, and fiercely private about his family.
So when Mr. Thanapol — a new guidance counselor — called him in to “talk about your home environment,” Rain already had a headache.
The guy was smiling. That fake soft kind of smile adults used when they thought you were a problem.
“Rain,” he began, clicking a pen. “You didn’t put your father’s name on your school records.”
Rain raised an eyebrow. “I put Pete’s.”
“Yes, but—your biological father?”
Rain didn’t answer. Just stared.
Thanapol kept talking.
“We’re just concerned. About the influence in your life. Especially with your… guardianship situation. I mean, Mr. Theerapanyakul has a certain reputation.”
Rain’s blood ran cold.
His fingers curled around the edge of his desk.
Thanapol didn’t stop.
“We want to be sure your home environment is safe. Positive. Not… intimidating.”
Rain didn’t blink.
Not once.
Then—very slowly—he pulled something from his pocket.
A small, worn frog keychain.
The stitching was fraying. The eyes slightly faded. But it had been sewn back together — carefully, lovingly — by Pete’s hand years ago. And Rain still kept it. Every day.
He set it on the desk between them.
“This is mine,” he said quietly.
Thanapol blinked. “Sorry—?”
“This frog. Vegas gave it to me when I was seven. After a thunderstorm.”
“…I don’t see what that—”
Rain leaned forward, voice low. Dangerous.
“You weren’t there when I was scared of every loud sound. When I couldn’t eat unless Pete sat next to me. When I used to flinch every time a man raised his voice.”
The teacher hesitated.
“You weren’t there when he waited six months for me to say his name. When he sat on the floor outside my room every night until I could sleep.”
Rain’s eyes burned.
“You don’t get to talk about him like he’s a threat. He’s my Papa. He’s the reason I’m even still here.”
Thanapol opened his mouth—closed it again.
Rain picked up the frog keychain and tucked it gently back into his pocket.
“Don’t ever ask me why I didn’t write down my ‘real’ father’s name,” he said. “Because I did.”
Then he stood.
And left the room.
Outside
Vegas was waiting in the hallway.
Black shirt. Silver rings. That cold, unreadable look on his face that kept most people at a distance.
Rain walked straight to him, didn’t say a word — just wrapped his arms around his waist and pressed his forehead to his chest.
Vegas froze for a second.
Then hugged him back.
Tight.
“I heard some of it,” he murmured. “You okay?”
Rain nodded against his chest. “He asked about my ‘real’ dad.”
Vegas tensed.
Rain looked up. “I told him I wrote it already.”
Vegas blinked.
Then his throat worked silently for a second.
“…Yeah?”
“Yeah,” Rain said. “You’re my Papa.”
Vegas didn’t cry. Not where people could see. But his hand was shaking just a little when he reached up and brushed Rain’s hair back.
“I’m proud of you.”
Rain grinned. “You better be. You raised me.”
Later That Night
Pete walked into the living room to find Rain asleep on the couch, frog plushie tucked under one arm, a new keychain stitched to the old one.
One said: You’re not scary anymore.
The other: You never were.
Pete didn’t wake him.
He just smiled. Sat down. And let his small, fierce family exist in quiet peace.
Vegas never liked silence.
It always meant something bad was about to happen.
And right now, Rain was sitting across from him at the kitchen table — too silent, foot bouncing, thumb nervously tapping his frog keychain.
Vegas sipped his black coffee. Waited.
“Papa,” Rain finally muttered. “I want to tell you something.”
Pete froze mid-step behind him.
Vegas didn’t blink. “Go on.”
Rain took a breath like he was preparing for death. “I’m seeing someone.”
“…Who?”
Short. Sharp. Dangerous.
Rain glanced at Pete, who gave him the do it fast nod. “His name’s… Phayu.”
Silence.
Vegas blinked once.
Phayu.
Older. Tattooed. Calm like a loaded gun. That biker bastard who looked like he’d walk through fire and laugh at the smoke.
Vegas knew exactly who he was.
And he hated it.
Later, when Rain had gone upstairs, Pete came to find Vegas alone in his study, staring at the fireplace.
“He’s not a bad guy,” Pete said gently.
Vegas didn’t look up. “He’s twenty-five.”
“Rain is nineteen.”
“He rides motorcycles and glares for fun.”
“So do you.”
Vegas turned, eyes sharp. “I’m his father. Not his boyfriend.”
Pete sighed. “He’s safe with him.”
Vegas stood up.
“That’s the problem,” he muttered.
The First Meeting
Vegas opened the door himself. He didn’t ask the staff.
He didn’t say hello.
Phayu stood on the front step in a black shirt and leather jacket, with a calm nod and eyes that didn’t flinch.
“Vegas,” he said.
Vegas raised a brow. “You call me sir.”
Phayu smirked, polite. “Yes, sir.”
“Good.” Vegas stepped aside like he was letting a wolf into the house — fully aware and absolutely ready to kill it if needed.
Rain came bouncing in seconds later with a smile too wide.
And Phayu smiled back. Slow. Soft. Like Rain was a world he was used to holding.
Vegas’s jaw clenched.
Pete laid a calming hand on his arm. “Behave.”
Dinner was war.
Rain chatted away. Pete complimented the food. Phayu answered questions directly, respectfully, without a hint of fear.
Vegas was silent the entire time.
Until Rain excused himself to get dessert.
Then he spoke. Low. Lethal. Directly to Phayu.
“If you ever make him cry,” Vegas said, voice like ice over a buried landmine, “I will destroy you. Slowly.”
Phayu didn’t flinch. “He already cried.”
Vegas’s eyes narrowed.
“Because I told him I loved him.”
…
Pete froze.
Vegas stilled.
And Phayu — damn him — smiled with a softness Vegas had only ever seen in one place:
On Pete. When he looked at Vegas.
That was the moment Vegas hated him just a little less.
But only a little.
That Night
When the house was quiet and Pete was curled up asleep beside him, Vegas lay awake, staring at the ceiling.
His hand found the worn edge of the frog keychain Rain had accidentally left on the couch that day. He ran his thumb over it, remembering the first time Rain clutched it with shaky fingers, the first time he called him Papa after a nightmare.
Vegas never thought he’d deserve Rain. Or Pete.
He just thought if he loved them hard enough — protected them well enough — they’d stay.
And now Rain was old enough to love someone else.
To laugh louder with someone else.
To call someone else when he was scared.
Vegas’s chest ached in ways he didn’t know how to explain.
The Next Morning
Rain padded into the kitchen, yawning. “Morning.”
Vegas slid a plate of eggs in front of him. “Eat.”
Rain blinked. “You’re… feeding me?”
“I’m still your Papa.”
Rain sat down slowly. “You didn’t threaten Phayu again, did you?”
“No.”
“Did you research his family history?”
Vegas sipped his coffee.
Rain groaned. “You so did.”
“He’s clean,” Vegas muttered. “And he made you laugh.”
Rain smiled.
“And he holds your hand like he doesn’t care who’s watching.”
Rain blinked.
Vegas met his eyes. “I watch. All the time. I see it.”
Rain looked down, touched. “You don’t hate him?”
Vegas looked away. “I hate that it’s not me keeping you safe anymore.”
Silence.
Then, gently, Rain got up and hugged him from behind.
Vegas didn’t move.
“Papa,” Rain whispered, “it’s always you.”
And for once… Vegas let himself believe it.
It was the dumbest idea Phayu ever had.
Asking Vegas for permission to take Rain on a trip?
He could have just told Rain, packed the bags, and left a polite “We’re off!” text in their family group chat like any other boyfriend with self-preservation would.
But Rain had looked up at him, wide-eyed and hopeful.
“Can we go away together, like… really away? I’ve never been out of the country before.”
Phayu had smiled. “Where do you wanna go?”
“Anywhere,” Rain whispered. “But tell Papa, okay? I don’t want him finding out after.”
And just like that, Phayu was standing in front of Vegas’s office door, palm sweating, wondering if he should fake a stomach illness and leave the country instead.
“You’re taking him where?”
Phayu sat up straighter. “Japan. Rain’s been wanting to see snow, and—”
“I can show him snow,” Vegas interrupted, not looking up from his glass of whiskey.
“…You’re not in the mood to build snowmen,” Phayu deadpanned.
Vegas finally looked up.
Sharp eyes. Cold. Still testing him. Still treating Phayu like a loaded weapon held too close to his son.
“I’ll book five-star hotels,” Phayu added. “Security included. No risk.”
Vegas poured another inch of whiskey. “He hates sleeping in silence. He’ll wake up four times the first night.”
Phayu nodded. “I already packed his old frog plush.”
That made Vegas pause.
His eyes flicked toward Phayu like he was seeing something new for the first time. Or maybe… something familiar.
“…He told you that?”
“Only when I caught him sneaking it under his hoodie like a criminal.”
A slow exhale from Vegas.
Then, finally, “Don’t let him go skiing on day one. He’ll pretend he’s fine and wake up sore.”
Phayu almost smiled.
Almost.
An Hour Later
They were still talking.
Or more accurately—not fighting.
They sat on the back patio, both nursing drinks, silence hanging between them like thick fog. Pete had stepped out earlier, eyebrows raised when he saw them together, but said nothing.
Vegas finally broke the silence.
“You know why I hated you?”
Phayu glanced sideways. “Besides the fact that I exist?”
Vegas didn’t laugh. But he didn’t disagree.
“You’re older. Dangerous. You don’t flinch. Reminded me too much of me.”
Phayu’s brow twitched. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Don’t,” Vegas said dryly.
They both looked out at the dark garden.
Vegas sipped slowly. “He didn’t speak much when we took him in. Not unless Pete was around. He was terrified of loud voices.”
Phayu nodded.
“I figured that,” he said quietly. “He freezes when someone slams a door. Tries to hide it, but…”
Vegas finished the sentence: “But you see it.”
“Yeah.”
Another silence.
Then Vegas added, “When he gets overwhelmed, ask him to help with something. Give him a task. It helps.”
Phayu looked at him again—really looked—and something in his chest shifted. Vegas wasn’t just “the scary father figure.” He was a man who rebuilt a child from scraps and shadows.
He understood now why Rain clung to him like a lifeline.
“…Thanks,” Phayu murmured.
Vegas raised a brow. “For not running?”
“For keeping him safe.”
Vegas didn’t speak for a long time.
Then, softly, like a secret:
“You did the same. That night in Chiang Rai.”
Phayu blinked. “You remember that?”
“You pulled me out of the van before it exploded. Rain never knew.”
“I wasn’t gonna let you die. Rain loves you. Pete would’ve buried me.”
Vegas smirked. “That too.”
Later That Night
Rain burst into the kitchen, barefoot and smiling. “I found my gloves!”
Phayu caught him by the waist. “Good. You’ll need them for Japan.”
Rain’s eyes lit up. “Wait—you asked Papa?”
“I did.”
Rain turned wide eyes to Vegas, who stood leaning against the counter.
“Papa?”
Vegas rolled his eyes. “He begged.”
“Vegas,” Phayu groaned.
Rain laughed, launching himself at Vegas and hugging him tightly. “Thank you, thank you, thank you—!”
Vegas stiffened slightly… then relaxed. His hand found the back of Rain’s head and rested there, fingers threading through his hair gently.
“Don’t make me regret it.”
“You won’t!” Rain grinned. “Phayu will keep me safe!”
Vegas looked over Rain’s head and locked eyes with Phayu.
You better.
Phayu nodded once. Solid. Sworn.
Two Days Later
Rain found the folded note tucked inside his travel backpack. No name. Just his frog keychain tied to the ribbon.
Inside was Vegas’s handwriting—messy, fast, and uncharacteristically sentimental:
“Snow melts.
But if you want to stay warm, you already know who your home is.
Be good.
—Papa
(P.S. He’s alright. But if he makes you cry—
you know where I keep the knives.)”
Rain held the letter to his chest for a long time.
Then he wiped his eyes.
And ran to show it to Phayu, with a proud grin and pink cheeks.
Rain never liked interviews.
He wasn't famous. Not really.
But being Phayu's boyfriend meant people always wanted to know things. Especially when Phayu brought him to a public event-some fancy charity gala for architects or something equally terrifying.
Rain wore a borrowed black suit. Phayu called him "perfect" five times in the elevator.
Rain almost tripped on the red carpet anyway.
They were doing fine-Phayu keeping an arm around him, Pete texting encouragement ("Vegas says don't punch anyone"), Rain smiling stiffly through photo flashes-until a reporter, mic in hand and smile too wide, stopped them.
"Hi, Phayu! Mind answering a quick question for our followers?"
Phayu glanced at Rain. Rain nodded. He could do this.
The reporter turned her attention-too much attention-to Rain.
"And you must be Rain. You've been seen with Phayu for months now! Mind if we get a little personal?"
Phayu opened his mouth. Rain beat him to it.
"Okay."
Big mistake.
The reporter leaned in, all faux sympathy. "We heard you don't come from a... traditional background. Can we ask-what's your relationship like with your real family?"
There was a beat of silence.
Phayu's body tensed beside him. His hand slid protectively to Rain's lower back.
Rain just blinked.
He hadn't been asked that in a while.
He could lie.
Say nothing.
Make a joke.
But instead-
He looked up at the flashing lights, then straight into the mic, and said, clear as day:
"They are."
The woman blinked. "I-sorry?"
Rain smiled. Small, but steady.
"Pete and Vegas. They're my real family."
The silence was deafening.
The reporter, flustered, tried to laugh it off. "Oh-of course! That's very sweet-"
Phayu pulled Rain away before she could say anything else.
Fifteen minutes later
They found a quiet balcony where the noise couldn't follow.
Phayu leaned on the railing, arms crossed, watching Rain silently.
"You okay?" Rain asked.
Phayu raised a brow. "You?"
"I didn't mean to say it like that," Rain muttered. "It just came out."
"Don't walk it back," Phayu said. "It was perfect."
Rain blinked at him. "Really?"
Phayu stepped closer. "You looked so sure. So proud. I wanted to kiss you on live TV."
Rain laughed softly. "Good thing you didn't. Pete would die of secondhand embarrassment."
"I'd take the risk."
Back at the house
Pete had recorded it. Of course.
He showed it to Vegas three times before dinner.
Vegas didn't say a word.
Just replayed it, paused on Rain's face, and stared.
Pete waited.
"...You okay?" he asked, gently.
Vegas set the phone down. "I didn't think he'd say it."
"You didn't think he felt it?" Pete asked softly.
Vegas didn't answer that.
Instead, he walked out of the room and went to the garage.
Ten minutes later, he came back holding a keychain.
A tiny silver frog. New. Hand-carved. Clearly expensive.
"Give this to him," he muttered, handing it to Pete. "Tell him... good job."
Pete stared at him for a long moment, eyes shining.
Then: "Why don't you tell him?"
Vegas sighed, grabbed a beer, and left the room.
That night
Rain held the frog keychain in his palm like it was made of gold.
"He got this for me?"
Pete smiled. "That's what 'good job' looks like when it comes from him."
Rain looked at it again.
He felt something rise in his throat. A lump of something raw and quiet and overwhelming.
"Hey," Pete whispered, brushing his hair back. "You did more than good, sweetheart."
Rain nodded. But his voice was small when he said, "I didn't know if I was allowed to say it."
Pete's expression softened, and he pulled Rain into a hug.
"You're ours. Always were. You just said what we already knew."
Later, when Rain returned to his room
Phayu was lying on the bed, shirt unbuttoned, scrolling his phone.
Rain dropped the keychain on his chest.
Phayu looked down at it.
"...Vegas?"
Rain nodded, crawling in beside him.
Phayu reached out, pulled him into his arms, and kissed his forehead.
"I hope they caught your answer in 4K," he murmured. "Because that's the bravest thing I've ever seen."
Bonus: In the family group chat
Pete:
🐸 From Papa Vegas 😭
Rain:
i didn't know he'd see it
Vegas:
I'm not dead. Of course I saw it.
Rain:
I meant I didn't think you'd care that much
Vegas:
I don't.
Vegas:
But if anyone tries to ask you that again, let me know.
Pete:
Babe-!
Vegas:
What? I'm being supportive.
Phayu:
Just say you're proud and go.
Vegas:
...I'm proud.
Rain:
😊
The dinner table is loud.
Rain is seated between Pete-ever cheerful, fussing over rice portions-and Phayu, who's currently teasing him about the way he holds his chopsticks. Across from them, Vegas eats in silence, as usual.
Except tonight, Rain notices something different. Vegas's hair is slightly damp, like he rushed out of the shower to not miss dinner. His shirt is crisp. There's an untouched plate of egg rolls near him, clearly made just for Rain.
He's... trying. In his way.
It warms Rain's chest more than it should.
---
Pete is telling a story about a near-miss in traffic when Rain-without thinking-holds out his hand and says:
> "Dad, pass the salt?"
---
The silence is instant.
Pete freezes, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
Phayu blinks, eyebrows rising.
Vegas... just stares at him.
Rain doesn't even notice right away.
Until Pete lets out a quiet, choked gasp and claps a hand over his mouth.
Rain blinks. "What?"
Phayu coughs into his tea. "You just said 'Dad.'"
"...I did?"
Everyone nods, slowly. Vegas is still stone-faced.
Rain's heart lurches in his chest.
"Oh. I-I didn't mean-I just-" he stammers, turning red, "It just came out-"
Vegas slides the salt shaker across the table. No words. No expression.
Rain stares at it.
Then at him.
"I didn't mean anything weird by it," he mumbles. "Just a-habit thing, I guess."
Pete watches with wide, hopeful eyes. Phayu kicks him lightly under the table.
Rain reaches for his water, trying to swallow the burning in his throat.
---
Later that night
Phayu leans against Rain's bedroom door.
"You okay?"
Rain nods, too quickly.
"Totally fine."
Phayu raises an eyebrow.
"I just... didn't realize I said it," Rain admits. "I wasn't trying to make a big deal of it."
"It is a big deal."
Rain frowns. "Then why didn't he say anything?"
"Vegas?" Phayu shrugs. "Because he doesn't know what to do with feelings. Especially when they're good."
Rain snorts, then falls quiet.
"I'm scared I made it weird."
"You didn't."
"I don't want him to think I'm joking. Or mocking him."
Phayu walks over, crouches in front of him.
"Rain," he says gently, "you're the only person in this house who could call him 'Dad' and mean it without ever saying it before. That's not weird. That's family."
---
Meanwhile, across the hall
Vegas stands outside Rain's door for twenty minutes.
Pete watches from bed, silent.
Finally, Vegas turns the doorknob slowly-and steps inside.
Rain's room is dim. A few glow stars still stick to the ceiling. Phayu's hoodie is draped over the chair. The frog keychain hangs from the lamp.
Rain is asleep, curled up on his side, clutching a pillow.
Vegas stands there for a long time.
The words won't come.
They never do when they matter.
But his hand moves on its own-reaches out and brushes a strand of hair from Rain's forehead.
The boy shifts a little but doesn't wake.
Vegas's voice is almost inaudible.
> "Goodnight, son."
And he walks out.
---
The next morning
Rain finds a small paper bag on the kitchen counter.
Inside: a black leather bracelet. Subtle, sturdy. Etched on the inside, in Vegas's sharp handwriting:
> "You said it. I heard you."
Rain stares at it for a full minute.
Then slowly puts it on-and smiles.
1. Rain’s Heart is Loud
Rain isn’t nervous about graduating. Not really.
He’s done the hard part. The exams, the internship, the long nights of studying while Phayu passed him coffee and Pete tried not to cry about “how fast he’s growing up.”
But when the faculty sends an email with the line:
“Each graduate may choose up to two people to accompany them on stage—typically parents or legal guardians.”
Rain stares at the screen for a long, long time.
He knows what everyone expects. Most kids bring their biological parents. Some choose siblings. Some go alone.
Rain already knows his choice.
And this time, he won’t hide it.
2. The Morning of Graduation
Rain fixes his gown in front of the mirror, muttering curses as the sash tangles.
Pete appears like a proud mother hen, tears already threatening to spill. “You look so handsome, Rain! Vegas, get in here!”
Vegas steps in, calm as ever, dressed in a dark suit with minimal accessories—just a clean black ring and Rain’s gifted bracelet on his wrist.
He doesn’t say much. Just:
“You’re grown now.”
Rain swallows hard.
“Only on paper.”
Vegas raises an eyebrow, almost smiling. “Is that your way of asking if we’re proud of you?”
Pete grins. “He’s always been your son. Even before the paperwork.”
Rain blushes. But he lets Pete fix his sash and Vegas pat his shoulder before heading out.
3. The Announcement Echoes
The ceremony is formal. Speeches. National anthem. Too many flowers.
Then the dean begins the walk of honor.
“Students who’ve nominated official guardians will be called by name and accompanied by their chosen family members on stage.”
Rain stands behind the curtain, heart thumping.
He hears them call:
“Rain Phattharaphon, Bachelor of Arts—escorted by his parents, Mr. Vegas Theerapanyakul and Mr. Pete Theerapanyakul.”
The audience murmurs.
A few heads turn.
Rain walks forward with both their hands held in his—one in each.
On the stage, Rain pauses at the microphone. It wasn’t part of the script.
He looks out at the sea of people, breath hitching.
Then says:
“Thank you for seeing me, even when I didn’t know who I was.
Thank you for being my real parents.
This degree is for both of you.”
Pete starts crying.
Vegas stands completely still—but his hand is squeezing Rain’s.
The entire auditorium claps. Some even stand.
4. After the Ceremony
Backstage is chaos. Phayu finds them first, holding a giant bouquet.
He smirks. “Not bad for the baby of the house.”
Rain snorts. “Shut up.”
Then Phayu wraps him in a one-arm hug and murmurs, “They looked proud, y’know. Even he smiled.”
Rain glances at Vegas, who’s calmly fixing Pete’s hair while trying not to look too emotional.
“Yeah,” Rain says. “I know.”
5. Vegas’s Quiet Moment
That night, after everyone’s asleep, Vegas stands on the balcony with a glass of water in his hand.
Pete joins him.
“He called us his real parents,” Pete says softly.
Vegas nods once.
“I never thought anyone would say that to me.”
“Do you regret it?” Pete asks.
Vegas shakes his head.
“No,” he says. “I think it’s the first thing I’ve ever done right.”
Inside, Rain is asleep in his room—his degree on the desk, a soft smile on his face.
1. A Quiet Knock
It’s late. The hallway is dark except for the soft nightlight Pete insists on keeping by the stairs.
Vegas is in his home office, glasses perched on his nose, finishing the last of some minor paperwork when there’s a knock.
Not urgent. Not timid.
Just… hesitant.
He knows who it is.
“Come in.”
Rain slips inside wearing an oversized hoodie and socks. He holds something behind his back—a folded paper, worn at the edges.
“I, uh… wanted to give you this.”
His voice is small.
Vegas watches him.
Rain doesn't look up. “I wrote it a long time ago. When I first came here. I never gave it to you.”
He places the letter on the desk like it might bite him.
And leaves.
Vegas doesn’t move right away.
Then, he opens it.
2. The Letter
Dear… Mr. Vegas (I don’t know if I’m allowed to call you anything else yet),
I don’t really know why I’m writing this. Pete says writing helps when you don’t want to say things out loud. So I’m trying.
You scare me.
I’m not writing this to be rude or dramatic. I just want to be honest. You’re so quiet and sharp and powerful. The kind of person I used to hide from. I still flinch sometimes when you speak.
But…
You bought me new shoes when you saw mine had holes, even though you didn’t say anything.
You always hand me my favorite snack when Pete pretends we’re “out of junk.”
You fixed my old frog keychain when it broke. I saw the glue. I didn’t say anything then either.
I guess what I’m trying to say is… thank you. I’m sorry I don’t always smile at you or talk as much as I do with Pete. It’s not because I don’t care. I just… don’t know how to say it yet.
But I want to. I really do.
If someday I’m brave enough to say it out loud… I hope you’ll still be around.
– Rain (7 years old)
Vegas reads the letter three times.
And then again.
He doesn’t even realize Pete is standing at the door until he hears, softly:
“You okay?”
Vegas sets the letter down gently.
“…He was afraid of me.”
Pete’s eyes soften. “But he still wanted to love you.”
3. A Quiet Hallway
Vegas finds Rain outside on the back patio, sitting on the steps with a blanket around his shoulders.
He doesn’t say anything as he sits down beside him.
Rain looks up, almost embarrassed. “You read it?”
“I did.”
Pause.
“I kept that frog keychain,” Vegas says quietly. “I didn’t want you to know I broke it more while fixing it.”
Rain lets out a surprised laugh.
“I was scared,” he admits. “For a long time.”
“I know.”
“But I’m not anymore.” Rain looks at him, eyes steady. “I trust you. And I love you. I just… didn’t know how to say it back then.”
Vegas doesn’t smile, not really. But his voice drops low, and he says:
“I’ve been waiting to hear that for years.”
He gently wraps an arm around Rain’s shoulders.
For the first time, Rain leans into the warmth without hesitation.
☁️
It starts by accident.
Pete is changing Rain’s bedsheets while he’s out.
Vegas is just there, trying to convince Pete not to alphabetize Rain’s snack shelf. He watches his husband hum and rearrange the boy’s room with the same energy he’d use to nurture a flower that grew through concrete.
That’s when Pete pulls out a small book tucked beneath the pillow.
Rain’s journal.
It’s clearly personal. Clearly meant to be hidden.
Pete hesitates.
Vegas rolls his eyes. “Don’t. You’ll cry.”
Pete opens it anyway.
Vegas stays.
They read.
---
The Phayu Pages
> Phayu frustrates me more than anyone I've met. He flirts when I’m anxious. He teases when I’m serious. He stares at me like I’m a secret he’s already solved.
But then he stops talking, and just listens. He’s patient in a way I’m not used to. He makes me feel safe — not because he protects me, but because he lets me protect myself.
I think I love him, and it’s terrifying.
Sometimes I want to run from him. Sometimes I want to run to him.
He kisses me like I’m fragile. I hate that I like it.
I keep waiting for him to give up on me. But he hasn’t.
Not yet.
Vegas closes his eyes for a moment.
Pete rubs the page like it’s Rain’s back.
---
The Sky Pages
> Sky is the only person who understands what silence feels like. Real silence. Not the kind where you’re alone — the kind where you’re surrounded and still feel like no one hears you.
He doesn’t ask stupid questions. He doesn’t make me explain my nightmares.
Sometimes we just sit. I don’t know how long we’ve been friends. It feels like always.
I think if I ever lost him, I’d forget how to breathe properly.
He says I’m dramatic. He’s right.
But he still shows up when I’m crying in bathrooms.
I hope I never have to survive a world where he doesn’t exist.
Pete wipes at his eyes.
Vegas is still pretending this was a terrible idea. He’s failing.
---
The Pete Pages
> Pete is the first person who touched me without me flinching.
I didn’t believe in soft people before him. I didn’t know they existed.
He’s not kind because he’s weak. He’s kind because he’s survived.
He makes tea when I can’t speak. He folds my laundry even when I tell him not to. He waits for me to ask for help instead of pushing it on me.
Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened if I never met him. Then I shut the thought down, because it makes my chest ache.
Pete is what I imagine a real mother would’ve felt like, if I’d had one.
I don’t think he knows how much I love him. Maybe I’ll write it instead.
Pete is fully crying now. Vegas gently takes the journal from his lap and turns the page.
---
The Vegas Pages
> Vegas scares me sometimes.
Not because he’s ever hurt me. He hasn’t. Not even close.
But because I know what he used to be. I’ve read the files. I’ve heard things. He doesn’t hide them.
Still, he fixed the sink without being asked. He left cough medicine by my bed when I was sick. He stood outside the hospital door when I had a panic attack and didn’t say anything — just waited.
He’s never once asked me to forgive him for the past. But I think, maybe, he’s trying to forgive himself.
I’m still scared of him sometimes.
But sometimes I catch him looking at Pete like he’s something holy. And I think — maybe monsters can love too.
I don’t know what he is to me yet.
But I’m not afraid of finding out anymore.
Vegas doesn’t say anything for a long time.
Then he carefully closes the journal and puts it back under Rain’s pillow.
Neither of them speaks as they leave the room.
---
Later That Night
Rain returns, laughing at something Phayu said over text. He drops his bag, kicks off his shoes, walks straight to the kitchen and hugs Pete from behind.
Vegas watches from the hallway, arms crossed, unreadable.
Rain doesn’t notice. He’s already talking about wanting snacks and how Sky stole his charger again.
They never tell him they read it.
They never say a word.
They just hold him a little tighter the next time he cries.
And when Phayu comes over the next day, Vegas doesn’t growl or threaten. He just stares at him for a very long time — and finally nods once.
---
Rain never finds out.
But somehow, he starts writing less.
And saying more.
---
🌧️