Work Text:
She appears in a flash of light, sleeping -- it’s not something Bam would have an easy time describing.
He’s returning from the rice pot, and the train has been getting hotter and hotter, an oppressive heat that leaves him slightly damp, more tired than he would have been otherwise. There’s an uncomfortable warmth to his chest, as though, were he to put his hand over his heart, he would feel the billions of souls housed inside of him, still screaming.
When he first received that power, when he first fought Hoaqin, he thought that screaming had stopped; he’d felt it then, for a moment -- all the bitterness, the resentment, and he had accepted it, because who wouldn’t want to avenge themselves on the monster who had so shamelessly used his power to silence them forever? But then the bitterness was gone; the resentment had left him lighter than before, not heavier. He’d thought he’d soothed all those millions of screaming souls, and yet. . . .
He’d only silenced them.
These are the thoughts in his head when the train flashes, briefly, like a heartbeat, and for a moment he thinks it’s just his imagination, just the trampled souls in his body, but then it happens again, and he stops walking, and the train compartment around him lights up, as though it has veins, and a heartbeat, and there’s a strange smell, for a moment, like the ocean, like the wind.
He starts walking without even realizing it -- there’s something familiar about that wind, about the light, but it’s been almost a decade and it takes him a moment to place it, to remember the light that swallowed up Rachel, and then swallowed him, and he’s running before he realizes it either.
There’s another door at the end of the compartment, and he ducks through it. He’s not sure why he’s running -- the thought rises unbidden in his heart and he pushes it down, but he can’t go back, there’s nothing to go back to, Rachel is never coming back -- but the ceiling is higher than anything he remembers seeing in the train, maybe higher than the rice pot, and the light is spinning together; if he looks closely, he can make out a double helix, like DNA, but it whirls and eddies and it’s magic, more magical than anything he’s done with shinsoo. It’s the hope that Rachel must have felt when he opened the door and she fell through.
It’s so stupid, but. . . for a moment, he just wants to feel it, the rising nostalgia in his heart, the brief memory of what it felt like to believe in possibilities instead of obligations.
He waits for her; he doesn’t know what to expect, at first, but he knows someone’s coming into the tower; he knows they’ll be as lost and alone as he was, so he waits, and slowly, she drifts into focus, light buried in her dark hair like stars, tracing along her jawline like morning sunlight.
She’s beautiful, in that moment, though Bam has never really known what beautiful was meant to be, and when the light fades, he still thinks she’s pretty -- not in the same way as Endorssi or Ehwa, where people would get mad at him for talking to them so easily, or Yuri, where it’s something that exists. . . despite all the trouble and hassle she goes through to discard it. The girl floating before him is sleeping, so it might be his imagination, but there’s a gentle grace to the way her head is tilted in the remains of the door, a simple elegance he can’t put his finger on, and he reaches out, and she drifts into his arms like a ghost, or a fallen leaf in the middle of autumn.
She’s heavy, when she settles against him, heavy and real, and his heart is pounding -- not because of something silly, like falling in love at first sight or being saved, not like with Rachel, but rather with the ache of so many screaming voices inside of him, the bittersweet taste of magic, the smell of her hair, like vanilla and sugar and something heady and soft. Her breathing is slow, and deep, and he feels his own breathing slow to match hers.
He holds her closer, then, crouching down so that for a moment she’s settled in his lap, while he tucks her legs over his arm, and wraps his other arm more securely around her shoulders. It’s not like he can leave her there -- but as her head leans against his shoulder again, he feels his breath hitch, as though he’d been running a lot farther than through a room or two in a train.
He has to close his eyes, for a moment, and for that moment he can pretend -- everything with Rachel never happened; everything with FUG is far away, and there’s someone in his arms who makes him feel safe. But it’s silly and hopeless, and he opens his eyes again, taking a deep breath, and exhaling in time with her.
There are a million souls screaming inside of him, and he can’t hear himself over them, and there’s a girl in his arms and he just feels so tired. Of course he can’t leave her there -- so he stands, slowly, careful not to disturb her. He has to retrace his steps a little, and as he walks, he keeps expecting her to wake up anyway. He remembers how Ehwa stirred in his arms, but this girl doesn’t do the same thing. She just keeps sleeping.
He can still smell her -- he’s not sure if it’s her shampoo or just the smell of her skin. Maybe a perfume? She’s dressed -- black pants, and a heavy gray sweater that’s too hot for the heat of the train, especially with her thick brown hair. Bam is still sweating just from the walk between the rice pot and where he’d left everyone before, but she doesn’t seem to sweat as they walk. He wonders if that’s a bad sign, but there’s nothing he can do until he gets there, and he doesn’t want to disturb her.
He could fly, but he doesn’t want to risk dropping her, and it’s hard to steer the oar when he doesn’t have his hands free, so he just keeps walking. It’s a little more peaceful this way; she’s sleeping, so he doesn’t have to worry about hiding anything, but it’s harder to dwell when he’s carrying someone, and . . . he feels a bit more helpful, like he’s a bit better of a person.
(It’s silly.)
He doesn’t meet anyone on the way back to the room he’d been sharing with Kun and Rak, and Kun looks up when he enters. It suddenly occurs to him that it’s a little strange -- Kun’s eyes rest on the face of the girl for just a moment, before he refocuses on Bam.
“Bam, you’re back!” Kun says, right away, and Bam can only nod. Kun doesn’t seem to know where to go from there -- his eyes flick to Bam’s face, to the girl, to Bam’s face again, and he asks, “Is everything alright?”
“Yeah,” Bam says, “I couldn’t leave her behind.”
“Did you get into a fight?” Rak demands, “Who dared to attack my turtles?”
Bam isn’t surprised that Rak seems to already include this strange girl in his group. Rak is like an overeager father, always inviting people into his family, and Bam almost smiles about it.
There are a million souls screaming in his heart. His grip on the strange girl tightens.
“Bam. . . ?” Kun asks.
“No, there wasn’t a fight,” Bam replies, and forces himself to smile properly, “I found her sleeping in one of the compartments, and . . . she didn’t seem to have a camp set up or anything. I couldn’t leave her there . . . .”
“There are monsters on the train,” Kun agrees, and Bam feels his shoulders relax, a little; the girl’s forehead settles against his neck, and it’s damp with sweat.
“I think she’s too hot though. . .” Bam continues, “I don’t know what to do. . . .”
“Maybe if we get Yuri or Ehwa. . .” Kun suggests, “They might be able to do something about her clothes, at least.”
Rak has crossed the room, peering anxiously up at Bam, and Bam looks down at the girl in his arms. Her shoulders are a bit broader than Ehwa’s or Yuri’s, and she seems a lot shorter than Bero Bero. . . .
“Do you think anyone will have clothes that fit her. . . ?” he asks. Kun seems to consider this.
“Well. . .” he says, “For now we should put her down. She’ll probably be more comfortable in a bed than being carried. . . .”
It’s true. Bam smiles and nods, as though he doesn’t feel any reluctance to set her down, and crosses the room, brushing past Rak. Rak tails after him, and when Bam looks back, he can see that the crocodilian is walking like he’s a bodyguard, even though there’s nothing to attack them in their room.
As long as he’s having fun, Bam supposes, and settles the girl on his mattress; her grey sweater has ridden up a little from the walk, and reveals a kind of dingy white shirt underneath . . . and what looks like another black sweater.
“. . . Maybe we should get Yuri and Ms. Ewha after all,” he says; Kun appears by his side, and Bam tugs at the hem of the girl’s sweater, “I think she has a lot of layers on. . . .”
“But it would be weird for a guy to do something about that,” Kun agrees, not needing Bam to finish the thought. Bam nods, and Kun peers at him.
“Are you sure you’re okay . . . ?” he asks. Bam nods again, looking over his shoulder at his best friend.
“Yeah,” he says, and doesn’t say anything about the million souls screaming in his chest, “I’m just tired.”
Kun doesn’t seem convinced, so Bam says, “I’ll go get Yuri and Ms. Ehwa. Then . . . I might go to bed early.”
“You just gave your bed away, though,” Kun points out.
“I can sleep on the floor between you and Mr. Rak,” Bam says, quickly; Kun seems doubtful, but Rak waves his hands to get their attention.
“I can sleep in the middle,” he says, “You should take better care of yourself, black turtle!”
“Are you sure. . . ?” Kun says, as though he’s going to offer to sleep on the floor next. Rak crosses his arms over his chest.
“Yes!” he says, adamantly, “I want to sleep in the middle tonight!”
There is no persuading Rak otherwise when he gets this way. Bam smiles a little, but it’s hard, and Kun sighs, “Alright then. Don’t complain about it in the morning.”
“I never complain!” Rak insists.
Bam reaches over, to the girl sleeping in his bed, and tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, “Then I’ll be back,” he says.
Something about the way he says it makes a strange look pass over Kun’s features, but he’s not sure how to decipher it before it’s gone.
“You rest,” Kun says, “I’ll go get Yuri and Ehwa.”
Bam is grateful to sit down, and Kun nods at him before turning to leave. Rak glances at Bam for a long moment, before following Kun out the door, and Bam’s alone, except for the strange girl in his bed..
He wants to lay down, but Yuri and Ehwa will be their shourly, so he just leans against the head of the bed, looking at the girl.
“You probably won’t be anything like her,” he says, and saying it out loud is as much a relief as it is painful. He doesn’t want to force anyone to be Rachel; he doesn’t want anyone else, either, just Rachel, “I wonder what you will be like. . . .”
But there’s not much else to say; a moment later, the door slides open again, and Yuri chases him out of the room. He waits outside, avoiding saying anything to Kun or Rak that would make them worry more than they have to, and when Yuri lets them back in, she lectures him.
“She should sleep in a room with the other girls,” she says, and Rak immediately argues -- they’ve already figured out the sleeping arrangements, and both of his turtles are well behaved; no one among them would touch a girl without her request, or permission -- they would never lay a hand on a sleeping woman, except to save her from danger.
Yuri seems to accept it, but Bam’s pretty sure she just doesn’t want to move the girl any more than they already have.
“We should get some sleep,” Bam says, as soon as Yuri has departed; the door slides open easily, and he hopes neither Kun nor Rak notice how he starts when he sees the girl in his bed. Yuri had taken off her gray sweater and the black one underneath it, and now they were folded up next to the girl’s feet, which had socks but no shoes.
(Come to think of it, that was a little strange -- Bam has to wonder what had happened to her shoes.)
“Bam. . .” Kun says, and Bam looks at him. Kun doesn’t seem to know what he wants to say after that.
“We have to take that Kaiser guy’s name tomorrow at this station,” Bam says, trying to be firm so he can convince himself, rather than trying to convince Kun. As he walks to the bed, he makes a big show of stretching his arms over his head, “Ah, I’m so tired.”
Kun seems to buy it; there aren’t any more questions, and the lights go out pretty quickly. Kun and Rak both seem pretty tired too. Pretty soon, Rak’s snores fill the room, peaceful as snores can be; Kun’s breathing evens out shortly afterwards. Kun never falls asleep before Rak, as though he takes some comfort in the reminder of his friends’ presence.
Bam stays awake; he tries to clear his mind, think of something other than the blue demon in the rice pot, other than the million souls he was trampling over at that very minute.
I’m going to find out what it means to be an irregular, he reminds himself, I’m going to make sure no one else has to be sacrificed.
But there are sacrifices inside of him, and he lets them suffer. Sleep is elusive, even when he closes his eyes, focuses on the breathing of his friends, of the strange girl from outside of the tower.
All he can think about is screaming.
She was still sleeping when they woke up, and she slept through them getting dressed and ready. Bam finger-combed his hair while Kun fought with his hair straightener (Kun’s hair was so curly and so thick that straightening it was always a battle of nearly epic proportions); Rak tried to sneak a few bananas into the lighthouse (an equally epic story of true love, if only Kun would let them be.)
“If she’s slept through all of that, she probably won’t be waking up any time soon,” Kun said, snapping the hair straightener closed and unplugging it from his lighthouse; that seemed to be the end of it in his book, because he undid all of Rak’s hard work with banana smuggling and headed out to Yuri’s last minute briefing. Bam settled on Rak’s bed, looking at the girl. She seemed so lonely like that -- he’d have to ask Yuri to look out for her.
How much was it okay to meddle with those sorts of things? It couldn’t be bad to do this now though; the sleeping girl couldn’t take care of herself, and he worried about waking her. If she was sleeping this much, she must have needed it.
He reached out, placing the back of his hand against her forehead gently, but she didn’t seem feverish or sweaty anymore -- her skin was cool and dry.
“I’ll be back soon,” he told her, like it would matter, “It’s only a couple of days.”
She turned her head into his hand, and he turned it so his fingers could push her hair back, burying themselves in it. Her hair was still hot, reflecting the heat from the train, so it felt like reaching into the sun, “Stay safe, okay? If you wake up, don’t get into any trouble.”
She probably couldn’t understand him even if she were awake; without a Pocket, everything he said would just sound like gibberish. But Evan and Yuri would be on the train still, so even if he hadn’t told them where the girl came from, he was sure they’d take good care of her.
“Yuri and Mr. Evan are really nice,” he said, “They’ll take good care of you. So wake up soon, okay? It’s really hot, and you’ll need to drink lots of water.”
As he stood, he wondered for a moment what she would think of him when she woke up. Nothing weird -- just if she’d think he was nice, or if she’d think he was pushy. If she’d run away the way Rachel had, or find him like Kun always did. But it was kind of a strange thought, and he settled for straightening her hair again before leaving the room.
He was glad that Yuri had already rearranged the rooms by the time he got back.
“We figured we could use more space,” he heard her tell Kun, but what it really meant was that he could brood and think dangerous thoughts without trying to hide them from Kun. Not that he was being subtle; he could hear Kun worrying on the other side of the door.
The girl was still sleeping in his bed; it might not even really have been the same bed he was sleeping in before, but he had claimed the room she was in instinctively. She was part of his world now, and she was asleep, so it wasn’t like she could look at him with eyes that said he didn’t know enough, or that he was making all the wrong choices, or whatever it was, exactly, that filled Kun’s eyes whenever Bam did something dangerous. Something beyond fear or concern, like it didn’t matter if anyone else died as long as Bam was safe.
But it was the opposite. It was the other way around -- it didn’t matter if Bam died as long as no one got hurt.
It didn’t matter if Bam was suffering as long as he could make everyone else happy. Because Bam would never be happy -- he wasn’t dumb enough to think that anymore. Bam would never really be okay, and he’d never really let go of Rachel, or really make the right choices. He wasn’t clever like Kun, and he wasn’t alive the same way Kun was, satisfied by accomplishments and safety, and. . . and. . . .
If he were a god, none of it would matter. He could save everyone. He could keep everyone. He could even probably have Rachel, even though he’d never really have her back, even though the parts of her he wanted most would always belong to the stars.
He stared at the bed, mostly because it was what was right in front of him, and the path he needed to walk was, for a moment, crystal clear. He needed to get as much power as he could; he needed to become a god, like Jinsung promised him all those years ago, only Jinsung wasn’t there anymore and he wasn’t going back to FUG, even if he relied on them a little at the Name Hunt Station.
There was the God of Guardians, though; Bam had already become much stronger in the Rice Pot, and it stood to reason that there was more power than what the God of Guardians has shown him so far. He’d convince the God of Guardians, and then. . . .
After that, it’s a little murky, but he’d do whatever it took to protect everyone. He wouldn’t lose anyone the way he’d lost Ehwa and Rak, ever again.
“I’m going to be gone for a while,” he told the girl in his bed; he staggered to his feet -- it was only then that he realized how long he must have been sitting, with his back against the door, staring at nothing.
“I’ll be back,” he said, and then, because he was feeling petty and selfish, he said, “Don’t wake up before then.”
Then he stopped, watching her for a moment. She still hadn’t had anything to drink or eat since he found her, and he didn’t. . .actually know how long this would take.
Gently, he reached down, running his fingers through her hair; it was silly -- he didn’t know her, but he knew she couldn’t save him, that there wasn’t really anything to save him from, not anymore.
“I didn’t mean that,” he said, “Wake up soon, please. Mr. Kun, and Mr. Evan and Yuri. . .they’ll take good care of you while I’m gone.”
He did want to be the first person to get the chance to meet her. . . but he couldn’t be. She needed to wake up, and he needed to become stronger, and these things both needed to happen now. There wasn’t room for doing one first and then doing the other. He twisted her hair around his fingers, briefly, and then let go.
“I’ll be back,” he promised again, “You won’t be alone, okay?”
It did not occur to him that it might not be the most appropriate course of action to keep touching her until he did get back, not sure what to think or what to do anymore, and Kun was sitting on his bed, next to her.
It didn’t seem like Kun was interested in speaking to an unconscious girl the way Bam had been, but Bam still felt something twist in his heart. Not jealousy or anger or anything like that -- there was no room for it, when Kun immediately started in on him -- but maybe something more like anxiety.
“You’re back, Bam,” Kun said again, like he did when Bam first brought this strange girl home, and Bam could barely get out his name in greeting before he continued, pushing himself to his feet, “Looks like you were in the rice pot. Isn’t that right?”
"Yeah. . .” Bam said, and wondered why he suddenly felt a little ashamed. Kun crossed the room to him, leaning forward so looking him in the eye was unavoidable.
“How sad. . .” he said, and Bam wanted to protest, if he could get a word in edgewise, but there was something bitter about the way Kun said it, “Trying to get more powerful by yourself. . .”
Maybe it was sad, but there’s something about the way Kun said it, like he was clinging to the sadness of it, like he was trying to say something else, that had Bam stumbling, “No, that’s. . .”
“When I look at you sometimes, it worries me that you would just wander off and leave us someday,” Kun carried on; that explained it, maybe, “So at least tell us when you go somewhere.”
Kun’s smile was fake; Bam wasn’t good at telling when people are being fake -- at least, not as good as Kun is -- but even he could tell, and he wished he knew what he could say, “Mr. Kun. . . .”
“So that I can give chase any time,” Kun said, and Bam wanted to say something, anything, but he didn’t know what and before he could really figure it out, Endorssi was calling to him, storming in, “Hey, Bam! Where did you run off to without saying a word? You haven’t even eaten! I was worried about you!”
He could only get out her name now, “Ms. Endorssi. . .”
She strode closer, “Plus, do you have any idea what I’m going through right now?”
Bam had no idea what she was going through; it hadn’t occurred to him to wonder about her relationship with Ehwa or Rak.
Kun gave a little sigh, as though he knew what was coming, and Endorssi pointed her finger at him, “That lady from the Ha family keeps watching me with some weird toy. . . .”
Yuri’s voice, distorted and tinny, suddenly chimed in, “Bam! You’re back!”
The weird toy Endorssi was talking about must be the snakelike robot with Yuri’s hair and ribbons and painted red eyes, who burst in now and continued in Yuri’s voice, “Why are you being so clingy to Bam, Endorssi? I warned you to stay away from him!”
“How did you find me again?” Endorssi gasped, and she seemed, for a moment, truly frightened. Bam did feel a little bad for her. He hadn’t thought he was away for that long. . . .
“Come to my room right now,” Yuri’s voice said, through the robot, “Or I’ll come and get you.”
“Is that Yuri’s voice?” Bam asked, but no one answered; too much seemed to be going on.
“Shut up!” Endorssi said, and ran, “Do you think I’m going to listen to you?! I’ll never go!”
She was out the door in a moment, but the robot only followed her.
“Bam,” Kun said, firmly. Bam turned to him, still wondering what to think of everything.
“Ehwa, the alligator, and that swordsman kid are probably all still alive and safe,” Kun said; he didn’t sound like he believed it so much as he wanted Bam to, but honestly. . . Bam would take any hope he could get, “So don’t worry too much. What we have to do now is not worry about those guys. We need to survive until they come back. They’re not ones who’d die so easily, right? Especially that alligator punk. . .”
Bam was probably just letting himself be convinced, but he agreed anyway, “. . . Yeah.”
There was a flash of light from his bed; for a moment, he thought the girl he found had woke up, but Endorssi’s voice rang out, “Bam!”
“Why does she keep showing up. . . ?” Kun asked, sounding very tired.
“Endorssi?” Bam asked; his covers had flown everywhere, but all the strange girl seemed to have done was roll over. For a moment, he had to wonder if she was related to Cherry La or Lauroe, despite being an irregular. . . .
“Hey you!” Endorssi said, “I”m just going to say one more thing before I leave because I’m so frustrated! Stop acting like its’ the end of the world just because a few of your companions are gone for a minute! Some of them may have left your side for a moment but there are also people like me who have returned to your side, you know? Right? You’re also someone whom some people want to protect! So please be safe, for god’s sake!”
She took a deep breath, and caught herself, turning away, “Well, I’m not going to say I’m. . .the one who wants to protect you. . . . Just take care of yourself! This is an order! Now get some rest!”
She started running just in time; Yuri’s strange robot arrived to chase her out and then left Bam to consider her words.
It did seem like Endorssi also believed Ehwa and Rak might be okay. . . but his mind stuttered over the idea of someone wanting to protect him. No, rather. . . .
Endorssi wanted to protect him. . . ? It’s a strange thought, but things quieted down now that she’d said what she had to say.
Kun sighed as Bam crossed the room. The girl seemed to be okay, and he pulled the covers up over her, smoothing her hair out again.
“Are you planning on giving her your bed again tonight?” Kun asked; Bam was still thinking about Endorssi’s words.
If she wanted to protect him, why did she try to steal his name and make him her servant at the Name Hunt Station, and why did she want to be enemies so badly? But at the same time. . . .
It was a nice thought.
“Huh?” he asked.
“Since she’s not awake,” Kun indicated the girl in Bam’s bed, and Bam felt his heart stutter, suddenly; she was his responsibility, so it was natural to give her his bed, right? But the way Kun asked, he seemed to think it was excessive. . . .
“I did find her. . .” Bam said, looking away from them both, “So I can sleep somewhere else.”
Kun sighed, but when Bam glanced at him, he was smiling, “I hope she wakes up soon. I’m sure she’d want to say thank you.”
And he left, just like that.
There was definitely a strange feeling in Bam’s chest; it was strange enough to drown out the souls and the worry, and he sank down on to his bed, next to the girl from outside the tower. The thought of Kun and Endorssi worrying about him, and Endorssi wanting him to be safe, and Kun wanting to chase him . . . a stranger he didn’t even know yet wanting to say thank you. . . .
He was careful not to touch her again -- the anxiety from the thought of Kun being familiar with her too reminded him that she was a stranger, and he didn’t know how she’d feel about being touched, and he didn’t know how he’d feel about someone else touching her that way -- or what it meant. She wasn’t Rachel, he didn’t know her. It was a silly thing to be upset over.
But he found her first.
Sighing, he flopped down next to her, careful not to touch her. Her breathing was even -- she seemed like she was doing better than when he found her at first, and he felt guilty, for a moment. He shouldn’t have left her when she was in that state, before the Name Hunt Station.
But what else was he supposed to do? Yuri wanted to be sure he could handle himself on the Floor of Death, and he needed to go there. He didn’t have anything left to chase, other than Rachel.
He lay there like that, staring at the ceiling; she was so still when she slept that if he hadn’t been listening to her breathing -- his own chest rising and falling in the same rhythm -- he wouldn’t have known she was there at all.
Kun and Rak both tossed and turned -- Kun was fitful, Rak was restless -- and Bam wondered if he slept the same way, or if he slept like her. For that matter, if she normally slept like this, or if it was something else.
“Shinsoo,” he said, out loud, and turned to look at her. Her face was close, and even turned away, it had a strange effect on him, so he kept speaking, staring earnestly at her closed eyes. He used to lay like this with Rachel, sometimes, but it hadn’t felt the same way, “Are you too sensitive to the shinsoo?”
But why would the door open on a floor that was too powerful for her? She should have arrived at the first floor, like he and Rachel did. Part of him was glad -- Headon was probably not the kindest of people Bam had met in his time in the tower. There was something about the faerie guardian that seemed dangerous, even as he gave Bam nicknames and promised him riches. No, he was glad that she was fighting a more mundane fight. The door wouldn’t have left her somewhere she wouldn’t survive.
He closed his eyes, turning away from her so that he could let his breathing stop catching so terribly in his throat, and then resumed staring at the ceiling. Like that, it could almost be the cave, and she could almost be Rachel.
But he didn’t want to replace Rachel. He had to sit up, then, and he looked at her.
“You’re probably dangerous too,” he said, “Or in danger. FUG would want to recruit you so they could use you to kill Jahad, or . . . maybe you’d rampage through the tower like Mr. Phantaminium. If you ever wake up.”
He didn’t want to leave her, or he didn’t want to face Kun and Endorssi. Besides, they both told him to rest, right? But he couldn’t sleep in the same bed as her. . . .
She didn’t seem dangerous; when she wakes up, she’ll definitely need to be protected. Bam thought about the movie he went to with Endorssi a couple years ago, and the way the hero had protected his friends. Bam had wanted to be the hero, then. He’d looked up to him, and thought it would be amazing to have that kind of power, to never give in.
He wondered if the girl in his bed would feel the same way, or if she’d want to be protected. . . .
“Ms. Endorssi . . . sounded like she meant she wanted to protect me,” he told her, “But I can’t let her. I’m stronger than everyone here, so I have to be the one who protects them. If I don’t. . .”
He’d be letting them down; the girl stirred, as though she could hear him, or as though she sensed his worries, and he hurried to put a brave face on for her.
He was a mess. With a groan, he buried his head in his hands; she couldn’t hear him. Anything he’d thought she was reacting to was his imagination, and yet. . . and yet. . . he needed to be stronger than this.
Maybe he’d sleep on the floor; then he didn’t have to face Kun or Endorssi, and he wasn’t sleeping in the same bed as a stranger. Having decided that, he swung his legs back out of the bed, pulling the extra covers from the foot of it, and then straightening the sheets over her. It was getting a little colder, though. . . .
It would probably be best if he gave her at least one more blanket. Looking at her, sleeping there peacefully, he had to swallow before he summoned up the courage to toss one of the blankets over her again. There was no way he could tuck her in properly, but he straightened it over her as best as he could, and then let himself sink slowly to the floor.
Was this the kind of reaction Ehwa had been hoping for on the twentieth floor? Probably not -- the situation was a lot different then, and if he’d had this kind of reaction, he’d probably have made her really uncomfortable. But he probably made her uncomfortable anyway. . . .
It was no use thinking about all of this. He spread out the blankets from his bed, and pulled his shirt off to make a makeshift pillow. It really was getting colder, but once he pulled the blankets up over his shoulders, he thought it was alright. She should be warm.
It’s the last thing he remembered thinking before everything went dark and silent. He didn’t dream -- not really -- and he woke up half uncovered, facing the ceiling of the train, as though he’d been chasing something.
Rachel, his mind fills in, like it always does, and he sat up, then pulled his wrinkled shirt on over his head. It seemed a little weird to change in front of someone who was sleeping, so he slipped out in his day old clothes and borrowed Kun’s room.
“Don’t want to use your own?” Boro asked, good naturedly, when Bam popped into the kitchen to give Kun a heads up, and Bam rubbed the back of his head.
“Even if she’s asleep, it’s still a little awkward. . . .” he said. Boro raised an eyebrow, and then understanding dawned on his face.
“Ah,” he said, “Your girlfriend is staying in your room still, then.”
“Do you mean Endorssi or that girl he found the other day?” Kun asked sharply, and Bam was grateful when he set down his cooking utensils to usher Bam out of the kitchen, giving Boro a long suffering look.
Boro just chuckled after them, “It’s not every day your teammate brings home a strange girl, sorry.”
Kun huffed; it took a moment for it to sink in that Boro was teasing him, and Bam wasn’t sure how to feel about that.
There are also some people like me who have returned to your side, Endorssi had said that. Bam supposed it was true of the people who had stayed by his side too. As Kun went back to kitchen, Bam found himself drifting through the hallways.
No one had had to stay with him for so long; he hadn’t asked them too, but he hadn’t questioned it before now, either. Now he wondered about it.
Why did everyone feel so far away, when they were reaching out to him so easily? Uneasiness settled in his chest, and after he finished dressing, he went right back to his own room, settling in the blankets on the floor, with his back to the strange girl, thinking. He didn’t say anything to her this time. He wanted to her, but he wasn’t sure he knew the words for what he was feeling, strange and alone and not entirely a person.
Rachel, his mind offered, like it often did, but she was never coming back. Everyone had known it, and hadn’t told him. Maybe he’d been supposed to know it too.
Why hadn’t he? Why did he keep losing people and expect to get them back?
He was probably worrying Kun, so he made sure to at least eat breakfast, where it felt like everyone was careful to avoid mentioning Wangnan’s team, or what had happened at the Name Hunt Station. Bam didn’t want to talk about these things either, but it was hard to focus on anything else, except. . . .
“Do you think it’s shinsoo sensitivity?” he asked no one in particular; it was a complete tangent -- there was a moment of silence while everyone’s brains shifted gear, and Bam ducked his head, not sure if he should clarify or if he should pretend he hadn’t said anything.
What had they been talking about? Endorssi looked a little offended -- maybe she’d been saying something, and he hadn’t been listening.
“You mean the girl you found?” Sachi asked, and glanced at Boro, “Maybe, but then how did she get so far up the tower already?”
“Seriously!” Endorssi slammed her hands down on the table, “There you go again! Why are you always talking about other girls? Am I not good enough for you?”
She didn’t sound insecure enough to really be asking those questions. . . Bam wasn’t sure how to respond, since she mostly seemed angry, and not hurt, and being too apologetic might be weird, and really. . . .
It was okay for him to think about other girls, right? She wouldn’t complain if he were thinking about her instead of Rachel, and it was really the same thing, wasn’t it?
“Well, he gave her his bed,” Kun offered, trying to be diplomatic because it was too early in the morning for fighting, “I can understand if he wants it back soon. . . .”
That wasn’t exactly it, but now that Kun mentioned it, “I won’t need my bed for a while after today, anyway. Since I’m going back to the rice pot after the test.”
“Oh, really?” Kun’s voice was laced with something Bam couldn’t identify, but he seemed to accept this, “Ah, that reminds me -- I talked to Evan a bit yesterday, while you were resting! He’ll be training me as well, while you and Endorssi are busy.”
“That’s great,” Bam said, and felt himself relax, now that the focus of the conversation had moved away from him, “I’m sure he knows a lot of great techniques. . . . I can’t wait to see what he shows you.”
Kun seemed very pleased by this; his smile grew a little brighter, and Endorssi cleared her throat, “Anyway, you shouldn’t just give your bed out to girls like that! You don’t know what they’ll end up expecting.”
“Ah, well, if she’s like Endorssi,” Kun said, and took a bite of food before he could finish the sentence. His meaning was pretty clear though -- Bam felt a little bad for Endorssi.
“I don’t think there’ll be any misunderstandings. . .” he said, “Especially since I’ll probably leave before she wakes up. I’d like to meet her though. . . .”
Endorssi didn’t seem to have much more to say after that. She busied herself with eating, and complaining about the food, but didn’t comment on anything Kun or Yuri talked about. For his part, Bam was content with letting the conversation flow around him while he thought about other things.
Kun said being a human was better than being a god, but Bam wondered. Maybe it would make someone happier to be human than to be a god, but gods were worshiped for a reason, too. Even if he knew he’d be happier as a human being, he couldn’t bring himself to believe it was the right choice. After all, he had to do everything he could to protect everyone.
But the God of Guardians had said that wasn’t the right solution either.
Slowly, people left the kitchen; Bam stayed behind to wash the dishes, and so Kun stayed as well, talking about day to day things -- Endorssi had been grumpy, and she must have been really jealous; Yuri wasn’t, but didn’t she seem a little jealous of Endorssi? Hwa Ryun had gotten breakfast early again, and apparently she was specifically avoiding Endorssi, too. Apparently, they’d had an argument while Bam was gone, but Kun didn’t know about what. Bam washed quietly, nodding along or making noises in the back of his throat to show he was listening.
He was tempted to go back to his room after breakfast, but he didn’t want to worry Kun anymore, and so he went on a walk instead.
“I’ll be back soon,” he said, “Since we have the test soon. I just feel a bit restless.”
He didn’t invite Kun; it wasn’t until he’d been walking for a few minutes that it occurred to him that it was pretty much what he’d done the day before, only this time he’d told Kun where he was going. He hoped that made a difference, but it was probably too late to go back and change things without seeming awkward.
And the walk did help; it was quiet, and it was cold, which kept his mind off of things. He thought about the girl instead, why she might have appeared then, and why she appeared on the Hell Train instead of Headon’s floor. He knew she was an irregular, that that had been the door into the tower -- but was it also the door out of the tower?
“My head’s full of so many questions,” he said, to no one in particular, and then he sat down, leaning against the wall behind him and slowly sliding to the floor.
She was easy to think about; there were a lot of questions, but for now she was new, and he didn’t have the same kind of worries with her that he had with Endorssi or Kun, who he’d put in danger for so long, and who he was still putting in danger now, or that he had with Wangnan, and Ehwa and Rak, who were all off doing who knew what, and surely in danger or trouble of some kind, danger and trouble that he’d chosen to walk away from.
But at least Wangnan hadn’t been at the Name Hunt Station; he’d surely have fallen with Ehwa and Rak and the swordsman; at least Bam didn’t know for sure that he was in danger, this way. Maybe everything was okay.
He stayed out there for a while, before pushing himself to his feet again. It would probably be lunch soon, and it should be his turn to cook -- his or Ehwa’s, since he’d still been cooking on her turns anyway -- and then there was the test. And the girl he probably wouldn’t get to meet before he left.
Maybe he wanted to think about her, he decided; everything else was getting in the way, but he did want to think about her -- about what kind of person she would be, about what kind of world she was from. She wasn’t dressed the way he and Rachel had dressed, so she probably didn’t come from the same place they had.
Now that he’d thought about that, about wanting to think about her and wanting to meet her, he suddenly felt lighter, as though the realization that he wanted something had been enough to lift a weight from him. It was silly, but it made him a little happy.
Would she be like Endorssi, brash and romantic? Or like Yuri, or Kun, or Ehwa? He didn’t want her to be like Rachel. . . and with the way things had been lately, he wasn’t sure if that was because he didn’t want to replace Rachel, or because he couldn’t trust Rachel the way he’d been able to when they were younger.
He did want to put the blankets he’d used the night before over her, though, for now -- the temperature only seemed to be dropping as the train hurried along, faster that it normally dropped at the end of summer, as though they were skipping past autumn entirely and diving headfirst into winter. It would be bad if she got a cold -- and he’d feel responsible, since he’d taken the blankets the night before.
That was what he was thinking when he went back to his room, half expecting Kun to be waiting for him -- only for the door to his room to slide open, and the girl to stumble right into his arms.
He instinctively wrapped his arms around her, staring down at her with wide eyes; she stared up at him with equally wide eyes. Somehow, she had glasses now -- he wasn’t sure where she’d gotten them, but maybe they’d been. . .
You couldn’t store glasses in pockets. Maybe Yuri had found them though? He wanted to ask, but he wasn’t sure. . .
“You didn’t have glasses before,” he said, and was suddenly very grateful that she was an irregular, and like when he’d first arrived in the tower, she did not speak Mexes.
She seemed very confused, and pulled away; right -- she hadn’t been watching over him while he slept, so he must have seemed too familiar. Swallowing thickly, he took her hand. Yuri would know what to do about this. Or Evan would -- Evan would have another Pocket.
Her hand was warm in his, as though he suddenly had a fever, and even hours later, when he arrived at the rice pot, he’d be able to feel the imprint of her palm against his.
But for now, he had to take her to Yuri. Or Evan.
Evan would have another Pocket.