#i also want to write a scene for the og trailer combined w the new about the dancing You Know but idk enough yet about the pal

[jacksjoke]

Title: netting Summary: Pre-series speculation centered on Palm Ao3 link

or read here :)

     Palm’s eyes are fixed on the ceiling when his alarm disturbs the night’s quiet. For no reason he can name, he’d only managed to sleep on and off for less than four hours, rendering his two-am wakeup call unnecessary. He retrieves a loose linen from his dresser to settle over his tank-top and denim cut-offs, an outfit designed for comfort over anything else, then gives his teeth and face a wash before making for his favourite place to be: the shore.

     He’s gotten into the habit of arriving earlier than his seniors, even if it’s just by moments, to get a start on the morning’s routine so that they don’t have to. Palm has worked alongside these men for half his life, and a decade of watching sunrises with them has made the group more of a family to Palm than any he might have had otherwise. A kindly older man Winyu, P’Bank, and the latter’s younger brother appear in good time, soon to be followed by several others, as it goes every morning.

     “How’s it, Palm?” Winyu asks, like they’ve just crossed paths at the market midday rather than their fishing boat at three-am. He never seems tired, not in all the years Palm’s known him.

     “All right, Leung. Just got through cleaning up some of yesterday’s nets that were left.” Palm drops the netting atop the rest and swipes his hands together as he stands. He can’t help but grin at Winyu’s usual smile. “Ready if you are.”

     From the earliest hours to very near the men’s break and to Palm’s enjoyment, the day is shaping up to be the same as those before it. He’s got his shirt tied around his waist, hair that had been soaked by water on the boat now beginning to dry under the morning sun, and any minute is sure to find nong Bee asking no one in particular when they’re going to get breakfast.

     Instead, as he’s helping the yelping boy untangle a crab from one of their nets, Palm catches sight of a man he hasn’t seen in well over two months, and his laughter fizzles to nothing.

     “P’Palm, don’t — ”

     “Just a second,” Palm assures Bee. “What’s this anyway, your fifth crab and you still go redder than chili paste at the sight of it.”

     Bee scrunches his nose at Palm and dismisses him with a jerk of his chin, coaxing another smile from Palm who uses the moment to brace himself against his unexpected visitor.

     “Bpaa,” he says.

     “Palm. You look well. How’s things?” The question is similar to Uncle Winyu’s, but unlike Winyu Palm knows better than to think his father genuinely cares.

     “Fine,” Palm answers, polite but carefully neutral. “What brings you here?”

     “I have a proposition.”

     Of course you do, Palm knows better than to jibe. “What’s that?”

     “There’s been…” Chanon frowns, swallows. “Khun Kiattrakulmethee was killed this week past.”

     Palm’s first thought is to ask why this has anything to do with him. His father dedicated the entirety of Palm’s childhood and now young adulthood to protecting this man, a boss in the mafia, instead of raising his own son. He’d met the family, only once and for a very brief occasion. The boss’ wife was elegant, more like royalty than someone involved in the… dicier side of their country’s economy. And they’d had a son too. He was quiet, maybe two or three years Palm’s junior, and did nothing but avoid Palm across the room after they’d exchanged a polite wai.

     Palm ignores the opportunity to ask, Does this mean early retirement for the both of you? and says in its place, “I’m sorry,” because he’s never been honest with his dad on any accounts and he has no reason to start now.

     “Yes, well… It’s become something of a pressing issue for his wife, that is —  Khun Thanya is requesting protection for their son as well. There’s never been cause for worry but the boss’ assassination has her on edge.”

     “Makes sense.”

     “All that being said, I have a job for you, son.”

     Son. “I have a job.”

     “I mean a job that pays in more than fish,” Chanon says, eyes darting to the sea at Palm’s back like it’s there to annoy him specifically.

     “Fish are my life, Bpaa.”

     “And I’m offering you more. Your role will be to protect their son, the heir, Neungdiao. It pays generously, you’d be set up to live right on their property, and you’d attend a private school — ”

     “I’m going to be 20 years old; I’m not going to dress up as a high school kid to babysit another. There’s a hundred guys who’d jump at the chance to take a bullet, it’s not me.”

     Chanon looks at the sky, squinting against the sunlight, and then says simply, “They asked for you, Palm.”

     “Huh?”

     “The family is about trust, you understand? It’s natural for you, my son, to protect hers, as I did for her husband. That coupled with your history in muay, you’re the piece Khun Thanya is looking for.”

     Palm shakes his head, tipping back onto one heel with crossed arms. “I’m not just a piece to be given to these people, Bpaa.”

     “Son, Nuengdiao is in the process of taking over his father’s work; he needs to be kept safe. This isn’t a butler position. You, as the boy’s protector, would be considered one of the most important people in the family. This may turn into a lifelong career that ensures you never want for anything again.”

     Palm doesn’t want or need anything as is, not that his father would know what that feels like. He’s never been satisfied here; the death of Palm’s mother had ended with her husband leaving Palm here with the villagers so that he could do something ‘worthwhile’ elsewhere. Palm wouldn’t have guessed that synonymous to playing bulletproof vest to a mafia boss.

     But Palm knows Chanon’s being here is a pretence to guise the truth, which is that Palm has no choice. He’s already sold him out to Thanya, and come to complete the deal. A transaction. Chanon’s apparent failure to protect his charge means the next generation, an unfortunate son, has to give up his life too. For all he knows, Chanon will turn up dead if Palm flat out refuses to help; and Palm — or, God forbid, his family in this village — would be next.

     The man must see Palm’s resignation because he gives a slight nod. “Brace yourself for what’s to come. And whatever it takes, do not let anything happen to him, Palm.”

     A day like any other.