The old temple garden behind Chiang Mai's riverfront was abandoned at night. The lanterns no longer lit up, the bells didn't chime, and the stone statues watched over the silence like forgotten gods. The wind no longer rustled the prayer flags. The scent of incense had long faded from the air, leaving only earth, dust, and the echo of memories behind. It was a sacred place now hollowed out by time—a place the city had stopped noticing.
It was perfect.
That's where they met.
Jay, Jack, Jeff, and Rin—moving through the night like shadows. No guards. No weapons. No lies. Just them. No blood between them tonight. No names were whispered in warning. No history heavy in their pockets. Just breath and footfalls on mossy stone, the moonlight catching on quiet eyes.
Jay was the last to arrive.
Jack looked up immediately when he stepped through the side gate, like he'd been waiting for this moment since the day they met. Not just waiting, but preparing. He straightened, not out of surprise but inevitability, like the final piece of a plan had clicked into place.
Jeff and Rin had already claimed the stone bench beneath the ancient Bodhi tree, its roots stretching like veins through the cracked courtyard. They were quiet, fingers brushing occasionally, eyes soft with something that hadn't yet found the right words. Something unnamed, but deeply understood. The kind of understanding born from shared danger and stolen glances.
But this night didn't belong to them.
It belonged to Jay and Jack.
Jay stood in front of him, hands deep in his pockets, unsure for the first time in a long time. Not unsure of what he felt—but how to say it. How to undo years of being taught that love was weakness, that vulnerability was a weapon others would use to carve you open.
Jack watched him quietly. Steady. Unmoving. "You called me here for a reason."
Jay exhaled and nodded. "Yeah."
Jack smiled faintly, lips quirking like he already knew the script but wanted to hear it anyway. "Well… I'm here."
Jay took a step closer. "You know I'm not good at this. Feelings. Talking."
"You're doing fine," Jack said gently.
Jay's jaw flexed. There was a tension there—coiled tight under his skin. His voice came out low, like gravel dragged across a wound. "I didn't think I could have anything real. Not in this life. Not with the fathers we have. But then… you showed up. All knives and cold stares and that stupid smirk I can't stop thinking about."
Jack laughed under his breath. "I hate that you know I smirk."
Jay ignored it, his voice steady now. "I think about you every second. When I eat. When I sleep. When I'm bleeding. You're always there. In my head. In my bones. Like you've always been mine—even before we met."
Jack's breath caught in his throat. Just a hitch. Just enough.
Jay stepped even closer now. The space between them was almost gone. Only the chill of the night lingered there. His eyes burned with something fierce and raw, something that looked too much like hope to be safe.
"So I'm asking… properly," Jay said, voice shaking despite himself. "Jack Charlie, will you be my boyfriend?"
The garden fell silent.
Even the wind seemed to stop. No bird cried out. No leaves stirred. Time folded in on itself and pressed into the space between Jay's question and Jack's answer.
Jack smiled softly. Not with surprise—but with something older. Something patient. And then, slowly, deliberately, he reached into his coat pocket.
"I was wondering how long it'd take you," he whispered.
Jay blinked as Jack pulled out a small black box, the kind made for rings—but not tonight.
Inside were two matching necklaces—thin silver chains with a sleek, black bullet-shaped pendant at the center. Simple. Unmistakable. Dangerous in the way something sentimental isn't supposed to be.
Jack took one and held it out. "I've had these for weeks. Been waiting for you to ask."
Jay laughed, a little breathless, as if the weight of everything that had led to this moment had finally lightened. "You planned this?"
"I hoped," Jack said. His voice was a little quieter now. Like he was scared that if he spoke too loud, the dream would break.
Jay took his necklace, his hands shaking slightly. This wasn't a deal. This wasn't strategy. This wasn't about alliances or bloodlines or vengeance.
This was a choice.
He slid it around his neck. Jack did the same, fingers brushing his own skin like a silent promise.
Jay looked down at it, letting the bullet pendant settle against his chest. "You think our fathers won't notice this?"
Jack smirked. "That's why I didn't get bracelets. Bracelets are for people who want to be seen."
He tugged the chain under his shirt. "But a necklace… we can keep close. Hidden. Just for us."
Jay grinned. "That's the most romantic criminal logic I've ever heard."
Jack stepped close, breath warm against Jay's cheek. "You're in love with me."
"I am," Jay said without hesitation. "So in love it hurts."
Jack kissed him.
Soft. Sure. Sealing it.
There were no fireworks. No thunderclaps. Just lips and breath and the kind of silence that feels like forever.
Across the garden, Jeff nudged Rin, who was half-curled into his side. "They're so dramatic."
"You literally cried when I kissed you," Rin whispered back, eyebrow raised.
Jeff blushed. "That was one time."
"Still counts," Rin said, lacing their fingers together and resting their joined hands on his thigh.
Jay and Jack pulled apart slowly, their foreheads still touching, laughter caught between them like smoke.
Their worlds were still at war. The guns hadn't stopped firing. The streets of Chiang Mai were still hungry for blood. And their fathers would tear apart mountains to keep them in chains.
But for now—
They had each other.
And the necklaces resting warm against their hearts.
Jay looked up at the sky. The stars were barely visible, drowned by city lights and low clouds, but he didn't care. The warmth in his chest had nothing to do with the night. It was Jack. It was this. It was real.
"I don't know how long we'll have," Jay murmured.
Jack nodded. "I know."
"But I want to fight for it," Jay added. "Even if it ends badly."
Jack looked at him—really looked at him. "Then let's make it worth every bruise."
They walked back to the bench, the two of them quiet, but not empty. Just full in a different way. Like silence was a comfort, not a weapon.
Jeff gave them a lazy wave. "Took you long enough."
Jay rolled his eyes. "You're one to talk."
Rin chuckled. "So… what now?"
Jay looked at Jack, who looked back at him.
"Now?" Jack said, slipping his fingers into Jay's. "Now we just be ourselves."
And the garden, for one suspended breath of time, held them all—four young men tangled in something bigger than war, bigger than blood, bigger than fear. Something fragile. Something worth saving.
Somewhere deep inside the abandoned temple, a chime stirred—an old bell, caught by a stray wind.
The gods hadn't left after all.