Sweety Bastard

It was a chilly midnight in late July. Inside Tips Club, the air was thick with perfume, sweat, and the heavy thump his famous William cousins - Zeke and Trisha, the Fox and London children - then Sandra, Monna, and Kilan, who were Anitha and Daniel's children. There was also Novarn, Thunder and Zeke's classmate and best friend, and Christian, Monna's fiancé.

Sandra was the oldest at thirty-eight, followed by Chris at thirty-four, then Monna at thirty-two. Thunder, Zeke, and Novarn were all twenty-seven, Trisha was twenty-two, and Kilan, only twenty - the youngest cousin of them all.

They were out clubbing to celebrate Monna William and Chris Mark's engagement. The table was a mess of half-empty glasses, glowing cocktails, and laughter that rose and fell with the beat of the music. Someone shouted a toast; someone else spilt a drink; Zeke and Novarn were arguing over a song while Trisha was on the dance floor, flipping her hair like she owned the night.

Thunder smiled faintly, trying to keep up. But the longer the night went, the harder it became.

The hearing aids he wore so he could keep up with conversation were turning the music into chaos. Every thump of bass vibrated through his skull; every high note stung like glass. The crowd's laughter blurred into white noise, stabbing at the edges of his migraine.

The thing about hearing aids and loud places - they don't mix. And tonight, the noise was slicing through him, merciless and raw.

He wanted the damn party to end so he could pull those cursed devices out, sink into silence, and let his world go still again.

At moments like this, Thunder almost missed being deaf - because silence, at least, never hurt.

Thunder William was deaf in both ears. Not by birth - but by brutality. His biological parents had taught him early that love came with bruises, that noise meant pain. They had beaten him until his tiny body broke, left him locked in a closet - bruised, bloody, and barely breathing. He had healed, somehow. But his hearing never did.

After they realized he had become deaf, they sent him to Holedip Orphanage, where life became even harder. His small frame, malnutrition, and deafness made him an easy target. Other children bullied him relentlessly, and the agent mother punished him harshly, often starving or beating him. Every day felt like a fight to survive—until he met Nolan and Ryker William.

With them, everything changed. For the first time, Thunder experienced love without conditions. They adjusted to his disabilities, helped him learn to live with them, and gave him care so genuine that he never had to doubt it. Their home became a place where he could be himself, safe from the cruelty he had known.

Ryker and Fox made sure all the Williams boys learned martial arts, but Thunder received extra training. His deafness made him vulnerable, so they pushed him harder. By the time he reached high school, their training had paid off—anyone foolish enough to pick on him quickly learned not to.

Thunder could defend himself with skill and precision, and bullies stopped messing with the Williams family altogether.

Daniel taught him how to handle guns, taking him along on hunts or to the shooting range. Thunder learned quickly, enjoying the challenge and the friendly competition with the other boys.

London introduced him to the world of art, and Thunder discovered a passion that ignited his imagination. He was talented at drawing, interpreting pieces with insight beyond his years. London often remarked that Thunder had the eye of a true collector.

Thunder loved visiting exhibitions, studying art, and even helping Novan, who worked at London’s gallery, select pieces for exhibitions and sales. Each moment spent in that world felt like a new discovery, a freedom he had never known in his early years.

Thunder became a general project manager at AGL alongside Monna, motivated by a desire to honour his parents’ kindness and ensure their legacy would continue for years to come. Ryker was proud when Thunder chose to study business and logistics—it gave him a solid understanding of the roots of the family business—but he also made it clear that Thunder didn’t have to follow that path.

“You can be anything you want, even a pop singer,” Ryker had told him once. “I’ll support you, no matter what.”

Thunder smiled at the memory. He knew, without a doubt, that his parents would back any choice he made—but he chose to work at AGL, and they supported that decision wholeheartedly.

Monna, too, had left her teaching job with Chris to join the family business. Now, she worked alongside her parents and Thunder, helping run the company. Anitha was still COO, Ryker the CEO, and Nolan, the Director of Finance.

Novarn nudged Thunder, grinning. “You seem lost in thought, Penny, for your thought. What’s on your mind?”

Thunder only smiled faintly. “I’m okay. I was just thinking about a project presentation I haven’t finished. I have a million-dollar client next Monday, so I need to prepare.”

Novarn laughed. “Thinking about work during a night out? You’re so boring sometimes, best friend.”

Thunder smirked. “And yet, you’ve stuck by my side for what twenty years?”

They laughed together, the sound blending with the club’s pulsing music.

The music thumped through the air, dim lights flickering gold and blue across their table as a lady — confident and bold — sauntered over with two of her friends trailing behind. Her heels clicked against the floor like a rhythm of temptation. She leaned forward, eyes locked on Thunder.

“You guys are so damn fine,” she purred. “You actually managed to flatter me and my babies here. Mind if we join you? Maybe we can party a little… make out a little?”

They giggled among themselves, clearly amused by their own boldness.

“And when the party’s over,” she added, lips curling into a playful smirk, “you gentlemen can escort us back to our dormitory. What do you say?”

The last line was aimed directly at Thunder — her gaze daring, almost hungry.

Thunder looked up at them with the same expression he’d wear if he were staring at a blank wall. Calm. Bored. Absolutely unbothered.

Then Sanda, the oldest cousin, broke the silence, her tone light but sharp enough to slice through the music.

“I don’t mind if my baby brothers here are up for it,” she said with a lazy grin, “but if they’re not, you should respect that and move along.”

The lady pouted dramatically, pretending to be wounded.

“Come on, handsome,” she said, stepping closer to Thunder. “I gathered all my courage just to talk to you because I like you. Can’t you at least let me hang out with your crew?”

Novan shot her a glare, ready to shut her down, but Thunder spoke first. His voice was calm, polite, but firm.

“No. Sorry,” he said. “Letting you join us while knowing where your attention really lies — and knowing I’d never return it — would be cruel. So no, you can’t join us.”

Her smile faltered. She blinked twice, then let out a mocking laugh.

“You must be joking. Do you even see me? I’m a fine-ass woman. Unless you’re gay, there’s no way you’re turning this down.”

The way she said gay was meant as an insult, but it only showed her ignorance.

In the Williams family, love came in every form. Thunder’s own parents — Zeke and Trisha — were living proof of that. So her words didn’t sting. They didn’t even reach him.

Monna chuckled, unable to resist.

“How did you figure that out?” she teased. “He is gay. But honestly, even if he weren’t, meeting a girl like you would’ve turned him gay by now.”

The girl’s mouth fell open. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she snapped.

Trisha leaned forward, smirking. “I’m lesbian,” she said plainly. “But looking at you just made me question that for a second.”

Laughter exploded around the table. Trisha, known for her sharp tongue, wasn’t about to miss her moment.

“What she means,” she added, voice dripping with sarcasm, “is your looks are so dangerous they could make people switch their sexuality just to avoid ending up with you.”

The group roared with laughter, the sound blending with the heavy bass of the club’s music. Trisha’s comeback hit hard — exactly as intended.

“Whatever!” the lady hissed, flipping her hair. “Your loss anyway!”

She spun around, heels clacking as she stormed off, her friends following close behind, muttering curses and humiliation under their breath.

When they were gone, the table burst out laughing again, teasing and replaying the moment like their favorite scene from a movie.

As the laughter faded, Novan leaned back, still chuckling.

“You still don’t want a committed relationship, huh? I’ve noticed you handle these things way more firmly now. Why’s that?”

Thunder tilted his head, his expression thoughtful beneath the dim club lights.

“My feelings about relationships and marriage haven’t changed,” he said. “I don’t want either. But in the past, we were younger — commitment wasn’t expected. Now, at this age, everyone dates with marriage in mind. I don’t want that. So, instead of wasting anyone’s time, I’d rather be honest from the start.”

Novan nodded slowly, understanding.

Thunder stood then, adjusting his jacket.

“Excuse me for a minute,” he said. “Bathroom.”

Novan gave him space, letting him pass.

Thunder walked off, calm as ever — the crowd and the lights swallowing him whole, until all that was left of him was the soft echo of his footsteps fading into the pulse of the music.

---

Inside the bathroom, the thumping music from the club faded into a distant hum, then vanished entirely as Thunder removed his hearing aids. The sudden silence washed over him like relief, and for the first time that night, his head felt a little lighter.

He exhaled slowly, shoulders relaxing. The pressure in his skull had been building for hours — too many voices, too much noise, the heavy bass vibrating through the floor. Nights like this always left him raw.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out a small bottle of painkillers, tapped two pills into his palm, and slipped them into his mouth. He unscrewed the cap of his water bottle and swallowed, the cool liquid easing his dry throat.

For a moment, he just stood there, studying his reflection. The faint shadows under his eyes, the calm mask he always wore — it all stared back at him, familiar and exhausting. The silence around him was soothing, almost intimate, until—

The door swung open with a loud bang.

A man stumbled in, muttering curses under his breath. His shirt was drenched in red wine, clinging to his chest.

“Damn it,” the man hissed, yanking the ruined fabric over his head.

Thunder glanced up out of habit, and for a brief second, he froze.

The stranger’s body was striking — lean, defined, the kind of build that came from discipline rather than vanity. The bathroom’s low light traced every line of muscle, every shadow.

Thunder quickly looked away, pretending to check his phone, but his gaze flicked back once — just enough to catch the man’s face. Sharp jawline. Dark hair falling over his forehead. Eyes burning with irritation.

The man spoke again, words spilling out in a rush, but Thunder couldn’t hear him. Without the aids, everything was soundless — only lips moving, gestures cutting through still air. A world muted into motion.

He tried to read his lips, but the man kept turning away, too animated to follow. It was pointless.

With a small sigh, Thunder slipped his hearing aids back in. The world rushed back instantly — the dripping faucet, the hum of the ceiling fan, the faint echo of bass through the walls.

He straightened his jacket, gave the mirror one last glance, and pushed the door open to leave.

The man behind him didn’t even notice when Thunder walked out — but fate had already decided they’d meet again.

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