The Bone Collector - The Watch #1 - Ch. 1 Maybe? (Patreon)

So this started out as a writing exercise to get to know my characters but morphed into a potential chapter one. Hopefully you like it. This is NOT edited. Read at your own peril. 

Chapter 1

Gift

“Is your homework finished, Kla?”

Gift swallowed the bite of his coconut curry before setting down his spoon and smiling politely at Park. “Yes, hia.”

The barest hint of a smile twitched at the corners of Park’s lips but then disappeared. Or maybe Gift had just imagined it.

Hearing Park Chen use his given name gave him goosebumps every time, but he did his best to ignore them.

Park’s stare was intense, even if his facial expression was one of indifference. It sent this shock of awareness through him every time their eyes met. “How is your food?”

Once more, Gift smiled. “Very good, hia.”

Park preferred hia to Gift using his name. Gift didn’t really know why, other than maybe propriety. Park was nothing if not proper. Even now, he sat in his white button up, sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms even though school had been over for hours. Park’s obsession with societal rules made no sense to Gift.

Park grew up most of his life in the states. His mother was Thai, but his father was Chinese American. He’d lived in Thailand for high school, but only moved there when he’d become a diplomat like his mother. That’s how he knew Gift’s parents.

But despite Park spending his formative years in America, he insisted on Gift calling him hia–Chinese for brother. Park insisted on many things. Proper honorifics. Proper attire. Proper mannerisms. He even made Gift go to the temple once and fed him Thai dishes almost every night. He insisted they dine together every night. It was…weird. Especially given how indifferent Park was in Gift’s presence.

Gift had tried several times to switch up their dynamic. Everybody else in the facility called Park by his given name. But when Gift did it, he just received a hard stare that told him he’d made a mistake. Sometimes Gift would call Park lung—uncle—just to watch him short circuit. Given their age difference, it was a much more proper title, but Park had been…displeased.

Gift shook the thought away. If he thought about it too much it just made him feel teary eyed and the last thing he needed was anybody there thinking he was even more immature than they already believed him to be. It wasn’t his fault he’d been gifted with a face that made people instantly adore him and want to take care of him. As long as they weren’t related to him anyway.

Gift fought the urge to look at his phone to check the time. Their food was almost gone so at least the evening was winding down. If nothing else, their nightly interactions were pretty much scripted at this point. Park would ignore him for most of the meal, then ask him the same four questions with a level of bored disinterest that confused Gift on a cellular level.

How are your grades?

Good, hia.

Did you call your mother?

Yes, hia.

Did you eat enough?

Yes, hia.

Did you finish your homework?

Yes, hia.

He hadn’t thought it was possible that anybody could treat him like more of a child than his own parents, but Park somehow managed it. Before this last week, Gift had at least been able to converse in his native Thai, but Park had now decided Gift needed to work on his English. Which would have been fine if Gift didn’t already speak perfect English. Park just didn’t know that. And Gift refused to tell him.

Instead, he’d smiled and nodded, pretending to stumble his way through a language he’d been learning most of his life. Gift didn’t know why he didn’t want to tell Park—or even his own parents—that he spoke English almost as well as a native, other than pettiness. If they’d wanted to know something about him, maybe they should have checked up on him when he was in boarding school.

Besides, it gave him an advantage when they all chose to talk about him behind his back. Which was surprisingly often. Or had been before he’d been moved to the US and sent to a school where his closest friends were now training to be assassins.

His life was weird.

But these dinners with Park were the weirdest. He didn’t know why the man even wanted to have dinner with him. Something about Gift seemed to make Park feel troublesome, yet every night he was forced to come and sit and make awkward conversation about the one topic Park didn’t really seem to care about.

Gift.

It didn’t help that Park never truly looked at him. If anything, he looked through him. Something people had done to him most of his life. He was used to it with his parents, but for some reason it hurt more with Park. Maybe it was the enormous crush Gift had developed the day they’d met. He supposed it said a lot about him that the one and only crush he’d ever had was on a man who treated him like a huge imposition.

Just like his parents.

Gift supposed he was a huge imposition to Park. It was no secret that Gift was only taken into the handler program as a favor. Gift’s parents had saddled Park with keeping Gift safe after an attempt had been made on his life. Park had then saddled the school to take Gift as a condition of his employment. His parents had nicknamed him Gift, but really he was just a burden. To everybody.

Especially Park.

Gift picked up his spoon and continued eating, stealing glimpses of Park from beneath his lashes. It would have been easier to see Park as simply an older brother figure if Park wasn’t so handsome. But he was. Frustratingly so. He had fierce dark eyes, perfect lips and hair so dark brown it almost appeared black in the right lighting. Despite his age, his skin was smooth and his lashes were so long that he complained about cutting them so they didn’t bump into his glasses.

He was perfect.

Perfectly oblivious to Gift.

Time seemed to stretch as the silence between them grew until Gift’s skin started to crawl. “I’ll be leaving first, then,” he said in Thai before hurriedly switching to English. “I need to shower before bed.”

Park seemed startled by Gift’s abrupt attempt to exit but stood as he always did, revealing black trousers that fit him like a glove, temporarily snagging Gift’s attention.

“Alright. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Park said, walking him to the door.

No matter how awkward dinners were, the goodbyes were worse. Park had his hand on the doorknob, the door open just enough for Gift to see the hallway but not to escape. “Be good,” Park would say, then would reach out and pat his head.

Gift tried not to savor the moments when Park’s hand was on his hair. It was nothing really, at least in America, but Park’s touch made him crazy, his body reacting like every accidental glance was a kiss. Which it wasn’t. Because Park wouldn’t. Ever. Gift was going to die a virgin. His gaze strayed to Park’s lips. He’d never even been kissed.

He was so deep in his thoughts that when Park touched his head he flinched, his chin coming up knocking his hand from his hair to his cheek. He sucked in a breath as Park’s palm brushed his face.

Park looked equally shocked, but he didn’t move. He just stood there, the warmth of his skin seeping into Gift’s cheek, their eyes locked on each other while his heart tried to beat his way out of his chest.

When footsteps sounded in the hallway, Park stepped back, dropping his hand like he’d been burned before letting the door swing wide. “Goodnight, Kla.”

“Night, hia,” he muttered, before bolting out the now open door.

Kla might mean brave, but Gift had never actually lived up to his name.

***

“What do you mean, he touched your cheek?” Dove asked, threading her fingers through Gift’s hair.

Now that Gift was back in the safety of his room, he felt like he could breathe again. He’d been grateful to find Payton sprawled on his bed. But he hadn’t been alone. Dove had sat on the edge of the small mattress, painting black polish onto Payton’s toenails.

“Just what I said,” Gift said with a sigh. “He was patting my hair and then I…flinched and then his hand was on my face. His palm was touching my cheek.”

It wasn’t unusual for Dove to be hanging out in their room. Usually her best friend, Morgan was in attendance as well. It was weird for Drake to be there though. He was Payton and Gift’s new roommate and Gift still couldn’t quite figure him out. He was tall and blonde with pool blue eyes and a square jaw like a superhero. Neurodivergent like Payton and Dove.

Despite this being Drake’s room, he was rarely there. Nobody really knew what he got up to at night, but sometimes Gift wondered if it had something to do with the boy sitting on the floor beside his bed.

Remi was another mystery. For as tall and broad as Drake was, Remi was the opposite. He was small and thin with chestnut curls, huge green eyes and freckles that made him look like people would mistake him for a teenager forever. He was like Gift. Neurotypical.

They had all been chatting animatedly when Gift had fallen through the door, but had all fallen silent at his clumsy arrival. Luckily, Dove had almost immediately abandoned Payton to let Gift burrow into her lap and wallow over Park. Again.

Dove giggled, dropping her hands to his aforementioned cheeks to cup them. “Oh, you’re blushing like some scandalized maiden. You really need to get laid. You shouldn’t be this flustered from someone touching your face.”

“Yeah, we touch your cheeks all the time,” Payton said. “Who wouldn’t. Look at them,” he mocked like he was talking to a baby.

Dove squished his face between her surprisingly strong hands. “You are insanely adorable.”

Gift rolled his eyes. He’d been hearing it his whole life. It wasn’t like being considered attractive was a burden. He might have had a baby face but he was still six feet tall and, despite never working out, had been blessed with a metabolism that kept his body tight.

“You don’t get it,” Gift said. “P’Park doesn’t touch me. Just that frustrating head pat thing he does. But now I’ve felt his skin on mine and it was—” he fumbled to find the right word. “Nice.”

Drake snickered. “When are you just going to admit you want your ‘big bro’ to bang you like a pinky toe on a table leg?”

Gift felt his face flush hot from his neck to the tips of his ears. “Shut up.”

Drake grinned, his gaze straying to Remi just long enough for Gift to watch him blush too, before quickly looking away.

Gift dragged his attention back to Dove’s face. “What does it matter? I’m invisible to him. He thinks of me as his nong. That’s it.” Gift kicked his feet on the bed in frustration, his lip pooching out. “Why can’t he just see I’m an adult.”

“Probably because you look like a chubby cheeked toddler and you throw tantrums like one too,” Payton said. “Especially around Park.”

“I do not,” Gift said, indignant.

Dove cackled. “You so do. You’re a totally different person around him.”

Gift bolted upright, criss crossing his legs in front of him before giving them each a look.“That’s not true,” he said.

Dove batted her lashes, her face taking on a serene expression before she smacked her palms together in a praying hands motion. “Yes, hia. Thank you, hia. No, hia.” She fluttered her lashes at him.

“Shut up,” he said again, giving her a gentle shove.

“She’s right, man,” Drake said. “Whenever Park’s around all of a sudden you act like you’re in the presence of royalty.”

“I act like I’m in the presence of an elder. One who is close friends with my parents. The people who pay my bills,” Gift clarified.

“No. You act like you want Park to pay your bills,” Dove teased. “You would make a perfect sugar baby with those cheeks and this perfect skin. And this mouth. And that ass.”

Gift gaped at her. They were so forward here. He finally shook his head. “I don’t want to be a…sugar baby. I just want Park to…look at me like he sees me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with wanting to be spoiled,” Dove said with a sniff.

“You can be a sugar baby then,” Gift said.

“Oh,” Dove said excitedly. “Let’s be sugar babies together!”

Gift rolled his eyes. She really was ridiculous.

Drake grinned at him. “If you want Park to see you as someone fuckable, you best start being more aggressive in your pursuit because he’s never going to relent unless you show him that you’re more than just this adorable little kid.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Gift said, flinging himself back onto the pillow in Dove’s lap.

“Seduce him.”

Gift sat up on his forearms to look at Remi. “What?”

Remi shrugged, flicking his gaze to Drake for a solid five seconds before dragging it back to Gift. “Seduce him. Go after him. Like Drake said, be aggressive.”

Gift collapsed once more, hands flailing. “How? I’ve never even kissed another person before  and now I’m supposed to seduce someone almost twice my age?”

“You could start by telling him the truth,” Payton said.

“What truth?” Gift mumbled.

Dove sighed. “How about that you speak English?  Or that you aren’t the simpering cupie doll cupcake you pretend to be?”

Gift made a noise of frustration. “But what if I am?”

“What if you are what?” Dove asked.

“What if all I am is this simpering cupie doll cupcake?” Gift asked.

“Then change it,” Payton said, swinging into a sitting position. “If you want to anyway.”

Gift stared at him. Payton was no cupie doll. Even wearing striped pajamas, his crazy hair standing on end, he looked cool, confident, sexy. Gift sighed. Maybe it was the benefit of being a psychopath. When you didn’t care about the opinions of others, maybe it was easy to be whoever you wanted.

Gift didn’t have that luxury. He was an only child. He carried the weight of his entire family's expectations with him everywhere. He couldn’t just not be who they wanted him to be. What would that even look like?

“I gotta go,” Remi said, standing. “They’ll be looking for me at the dorms. I still have to turn in that project for Suri.”

Drake snagged his arm and pulled him down onto the bed until they were eye to eye. “Do mine for me?” he asked, giving Remi a look that made Gift feel like he was invading their privacy.

“Do it yourself,” Remi said, voice hesitant. “Have you ever done a single project of your own since you got here?”

“Sure. But you’re so much better at that stuff than me. Please?” Drake said, giving Remi puppy eyes. “Pretty please?”

They all watched as Remi licked his lower lip. “You’re emotionally manipulating me.”

Drake grinned. “But is it working?”

Remi’s gaze fell to his lap, shoulders sagging. Gift didn’t get their relationship at all. Drake called them friends. They were together often. It was clear Remi wanted to be around Drake all the time, but when he was they were usually bickering or play-fighting. Their friendship made no sense to Gift. But he supposed it was none of his business.

Remi rolled his eyes. “Fine. Whatever. You’ll just nag me until I do it anyway.”

Drake ran a finger along Remi’s cheek, in an intimate gesture that made Gift a little envious. “You’re the best.”

Remi scoffed, shoving Drake hard enough to tip him backwards before he caught himself. “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re pretty,” Drake countered.

Remi gave Drake his middle finger then hurried to the door like he feared Drake might follow.

When he was gone, Dove threw a pillow at him. “What is wrong with you?”

Drake snickered. “What? He likes it.”

“He likes you pretending you’re into him so he can do your homework? Was is this, eighth grade?” Dove asked.

“He likes my attention. My time is valuable. I give him my undivided attention and he gives me free time to pursue other things.”

Dove snorted. “Other people, you mean?”

Drake shrugged. “He’s got a little crush. You know how neurotypicals are. He’ll get over it eventually when he realizes I’m a monster and he’ll be better for it because he won’t let his other charges do to him what I’m doing now. I’m a life lesson.”

Gift shook his head. “You’re a cautionary tale.”

Drake grinned. “At least I’m not a twenty-two year old virgin.”

“Better a virgin than a man-whore,” Payton countered.

“Hey, who’s side are you on anyway?” Drake said, feigning hurt feelings. “You can’t let the feelings faction get to you.”

That’s what Mac and Archer called the handlers behind their backs. The feelings faction. It wasn’t an insult. If anything, the program went out of their way to distinguish the students by anything but what they were. They used words like neurodivergent. Neurotypical. Handler. Asset. Psychopath. Sociopath. Feelings Faction. Anything to avoid saying what truly divided the handlers from the assets: those who felt remorse and those who didn’t.

“If the instructors find out you’re using Remi as your personal…slave…in exchange for that bizarre eye fucking thing you were just doing, they’ll kick you out of the program,” Dove warned.

“How will they know?” Drake asked. “Besides, I’d fuck him with more than my eyes if I knew he wouldn’t fall in love with me.”

“You really are  a monster,” Dove said, but with no real heat to her words.

“We all are,” Drake countered. “That’s why we’re here.” He looked at Gift. “Well, not you, cupcake. You’re here as Payton’s pet human.”

Payton launched himself onto Gift’s bed, wrapping his arms and legs around him. “Don’t listen to him, cupcake. You’re not my pet human. You’re my baby. My cute, adorable squishy cheeked body pillow. I just like to squeeze you.”

“He’s my baby, actually,” Dove countered, trying to wrestle Gift free of Payton’s hold. “Come to mama,” she teased.

For all of Dove and Payton’s manhandling and attention, they were still, at their core, psychopaths. They lacked guilt, empathy, remorse. But their care felt real. It felt sincere. And Gift was starved for affection. He was okay being their school project if it meant he got to pretend someone loved him. Maybe that was how Remi felt too? Any affection was better than none at all.

Park suddenly popped into his head. What would Park’s affection look like? What would it feel like to have him look at Gift as something other than a burden? To have him touch him and tease him and play with him in a way that had nothing to do with familial obligation and everything to do with pleasure?

Gift would do almost anything to find out. Could he seduce Park? What did that even look like really? The thought of kissing him made him flush from head to toe, but it also stirred something low in his belly and made him half hard just thinking about it. And he couldn’t afford to think about it while Dove and Payton still fought over him.

Instead he just closed his eyes and concentrated on the warmth of their embrace, not wanting to think too hard on how two psychopaths had become the closest thing he had to a real family in his whole life.

It was only hours later when he, Payton and Drake were lying in their beds, shrouded in darkness, that Payton said, “You awake, G?”

“Yeah,” Gift said, staring up at the ceiling.

“If you want Park, I can help you get him.”

The abruptness of the statement stole the air from Gift’s lungs. Did he want Park? Of course, he did. Was he willing to try even if he knew he would most likely fail? Failure meant losing everything.

“How?” Gift managed, choking on a dozen emotions suddenly flooding his system. “How are you going to help me get Park?”

“I emotionally manipulate more people before seven am than most people do all day,” he teased.

It was true. Nobody said no to Payton. Not even the teachers. Well, one teacher. The main teacher. The headmaster technically. Boone. And Payton was working on breaking Boone down more and more every day. If anybody could teach Gift to get under Park’s skin, it was Payton.

Gift chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment before finally saying, “How do we start?”