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Kun woke the moment he felt Bam move -- still tense from the possible threat of Hoaqin, he supposed, or just stiff from sleeping on the floor. Still, he rolled over, squinting over at at his friend as the other man sat up and immediately leaned over their companion.
Not Rak, Kun’s mind reminded him, Min.
He blearily remembered saying something stupid to her the night before. Actually, saying too many stupid things to her, and not paying attention to his friend long enough to let Bam get the drop on him. . . .
He wasn’t sure why Bam knowing made him so uncomfortable, but there wasn’t anything for it now. He didn’t want to think about that, just like he didn’t want to think about Maria, and what the Lo Po Bia sisters had had to say for themselves. Just like he didn’t want to think about Rak or Ehwa, and how he kept telling Bam that they were probably okay.
And yet his brain kept coming back to it; it always would, picking at his greatest fears and weakest moments like a vulture unless he made some sort of effort to shoo it away.
“You’re dedicated,” he croaked out instead; the smile he gave Bam was too sleepy to be confident, but Bam missed the implied intimacy, and Kun was grateful for that. He didn’t want to make things weird. Didn’t want to cling to Bam the way he did to Maria -- didn’t want to hold his friend back when he couldn’t let go of Rachel and everything she’d stood for.
He tried, for a moment, to picture if Maria had injured someone Bam cared about, attempted killing someone Bam cared about, attempted killing Kun himself -- and had the disturbing realization that two out of three of those were distinct possibilities, looming on the horizon.
Kun didn’t want to think about it.
“I just. . .” Bam whispered, as though he was worried about waking Min up; Kun didn’t blame him -- she hadn’t seemed to want to settle down, and Kun was sure she’d been up later than them, writing in her pocket, “I just wanted to make sure she was still there.”
Kun sat up, slowly, his eyes never leaving Bam’s face, “Why wouldn’t she be?”
Bam laughed, but it was a hollow sound, a horrid, shallow shadow of what it had been once. Kun’s heart twinged in sympathy, “I just . . . everyone seems to be disappearing all at once. Ms. Ehwa, Mr. Rak, Mr. Wangnan. . . Mr. Prince and Mr. Akraptor. We don’t know if Mr. Horyang will wake up at all, and Ms. Goseng is staying with him until he does. Rachel. . . .”
Bam’s fingers tangled in Min’s hair as he thought, staring down at her with a severe, desperate expression -- an expression Kun saw a lot, out the corner of his eye, in his most feverish dreams.
No one deserved to have that kind of expression.
Maria had had that kind of expression, lurking behind her eyes, and maybe that was why Kun had thrown everything away. Bam wore it now, and Kun was afraid to find out just what he’d do to make it stop.
An innocent boy from outside of the tower, thrown into the water as shark bait for a war he didn’t -- couldn’t -- understand. Even Eduan probably didn’t know the full extent of FUG’s grudge. Even the oldest of FUG’s slayers probably couldn’t fathom the extent of cruelty the Ten Families were capable of. And yet they’d chosen an outsider to be their weapon and salvation, and here he was now, holding himself together with friends who kept disappearing.
(There was a part of Kun’s mind, now, that urgently requested his attention for another matter -- that Bam was stronger than anyone else in their team, that Bam could hold his own against people much stronger than Kun himself, but Kun did what he always did with that part of his brain, squashing the thought down, cutting it out, refusing to let it control him, and, by that very refusal, giving it free reign with all his darkest impulses.)
“Min has no where else to go,” Kun pointed out, “And we were both here. We’d definitely notice if she left without saying anything.”
Bam laughed his hollow laugh again, and finally looked at Kun, “Thanks.”
“Yeah,” Kun replied, not sure what to say -- never sure what to say, never having the right words, too much hesitation, too much running away -- and changed the topic, “Do you think we can leave Endorssi in charge of breakfast? It’s her turn, but . . .”
“Maybe,” Bam said, “It wasn’t so bad last time, but cooked food is nicer.”
Glancing out the corner of his eye, Kun could see that Bam was still playing with Min’s hair, without seeming to realize it. He should have gotten up and headed out to start making breakfast right then, but he didn’t. There was something on Bam’s mind, and he wanted to hear his friend out.
But he should have known his recklessness the night before would get to him.
“You never told me about Ms. Maria,” Bam said, hesitantly; Kun didn’t have to look to imagine all sorts of disappointment and accusatory anger in Bam’s eyes, so he was relieved when he did look, and Bam simply wasn’t making eye contact, “Did you think I’d . . .”
“Judge me?” Kun thought it over, leaning back against the blankets, and then sitting back up quickly when they threatened to give way, “I know you wouldn’t.”
This seemed to be exactly what Bam wanted to know; when Kun had satisfied himself of the wall’s security (or lack thereof, rather) and looked over at his best friend again, the other man was completely relaxed; his hand, tangled in Min’s hair, had gone limp, and his shoulders had slumped, and his lips had curved into an open smile, “I’m glad.”
“You’re not mad?” Kun had to work to hide the incredulity from his voice, and was surprised that he felt so incredulous. He hadn’t really thought about Bam’s feelings on the matter at all yet -- didn’t want to -- but he’d definitely expected some kind of anger.
He’d have been angry.
He was always angry at himself, though, so maybe that was why.
“No?” Bam seemed to be back on uncertain ground, but Kun suddenly doubted he minded all that uncertainty in his life. Kun suddenly, irrationally, doubted Bam minded anything. All the sorrow and hurt Kun imagined him feeling every day suddenly felt like a superimposition of Kun’s own feelings, as though he’d never been looking at Bam, but rather staring into an invisible mirror.
He shoved that thought away too.
Bam considered, though, as though he was content to figure Kun’s thoughts out on his own, and Kun was grateful for that. He didn’t want to sort through the tangled mess in his head by himself, and he didn’t want to do it for the benefit of someone else, no matter how much he cared for them, no matter how much he wanted to be selfless and pure and good.
He didn’t want to be selfless and pure and good, he told himself. He was fine being dirty and cruel. It’s what he’d always been -- what he’d always be.
“Even though I was telling you to get over Rachel so much?” Kun asked, even though, now that he thought about it, he might very well have never said anything of the sort out loud.
Bam’s startled look confirmed it, “You never said to get over Rachel.”
“But I tried to kill her,” Kun argued, as though that was the same thing. In his brain, maybe it could be. He wondered if he’d be happier that way.
“Yeah,” Bam gave him an even stare, “But you never talked to me about it. Mr. Kun. . . .”
Kun should have run away, when he asked about breakfast and realized Bam wanted to interrogate him.
“. . . What did Rachel do?”
Kun laughed, as though that was a self-evident question, as though he didn’t really get what Bam was asking. Min stirred, but it wasn’t enough to deter Bam from staring hard at Kun until Kun was forced to say, “She tried to kill you. Does she have to do something more than that for me to hate her?”
Bam ducked his head, “No, I guess not. Sorry.”
That just made him feel guilty; Kun took a deep breath, exhaled it forcefully, and leaned forward to rest his head on his knees.
Seconds passed, then minutes -- or maybe Kun simply imagined the time stretched by longer than it did, as though he were trapped in slow motion, “She had FUG cut Dan’s legs open. It’s why he was in recovery for so long.”
Bam’s voice sounded very small, “Oh.”
“It was my fault,” Kun added, trying to sound wry, but unable to meet Bam’s eyes, “I shouldn’t have underestimated her.”
“I think. . . Rachel’s the one at fault,” Bam replied, “I care about her a lot, but that doesn’t mean she isn’t . . . the one doing these things.”
These things.
Prince.
Akraptor.
Dan.
Bam.
Do you want to take bets on who’ll be next? Kun wanted to ask, but that would have been too harsh. Maybe with Endorssi, she’d understand. Or Boro or Sachi -- they wouldn’t be coming from the same place, but they’d get it. Even Min, who was just as sensitive to arguments and confrontations as Maria had been, would have accepted what Kun was saying for what it was.
But with Bam there was no way something like that could be anything but an attack, even if Bam understood where Kun was coming from, even if Bam also blamed Rachel, and so Kun bit back the sentiment and swallowed it down.
“It’s not your fault,” Bam said again, but he sounded far away, and Kun wondered if it didn’t matter that he hadn’t said what was on his mind, if something about his body language had given it away anyway.
“Well, I’m going to make breakfast,” Kun said, “You stay with Min until she wakes up, okay? Just in case.”
“Oh. . .” Bam said, sounding lost, “Okay.”
Endorssi did not turn up to help cook; she stumbled into the kitchen shortly before everyone else, but by then Kun had already finished most everything.
“Why do you even bother?” she asked, somewhat rudely, clearly not used to being awake this early, and didn’t wait for a response, “Where’s Bam?”
Kun took some delight in his response, “Bam? Oh, he’s with Min in the room. You know -- in case Hoaqin gets to her.”
“Who’s Hoaqin?” Endorssi demanded, “What does he have to do with Min?”
Kun was a little disappointed that she didn’t immediately go racing out to interrupt Bam and Min’s continued sleep -- though maybe that was a good thing. Even if it would have been pretty funny, Min needed all the sleep she could get, and Endorssi did tend to get a little zealous.
“Oh, right,” Kun said instead, because he needed someone to take his anger out on, and Endorssi made herself such a good target, “You were too busy with trying to backtrack with Kaiser to listen to us at all during the Name Hunt Station. He’s the secret identity of the former Slayer known as White. Big fish. Hes going to the Floor of Death.”
Endorssi’s expression went blank, as though she was trying to think her way through this, and Kun sighed.
“Seriously? You don’t know even a little?” he demanded, and reached out, rapping her on the forehead with his knuckles -- not sharp enough to hurt, but enough to get her attention.
“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW WHEN NO ONE TELLS ME ANYTHING?” she shrieked, and yanked him under his arm. He immediately had so many regrets.
So many mistakes were flashing before his eyes right now, as Endorssi continued to rant, “Neither of you said anything about anyone but Rachel! Except Bam’s lame, ‘Oh, I’m not following Rachel, I’m going to the Name Hunt Station to find myself!’ bullshit! Which I’m calling you out on now -- that Hoaqin thing is bullshit! You guys don’t care about him at all, he’s just an excuse you’re using right now to torment me!”
“No, actually, he’s kind of important,” Kun grumbled, “Let go of me, would you?”
“He’s why that obnoxious bitch is coming with us to the floor of death, isn’t he?” Endorssi continued, “And no! You’re staying down there while I eat my breakfast!”
Kun sighed, and twisted his way out of Endorssi’s grasp, which elicited a started gasp, “Yeah, he’s why Min’s coming with us to the Floor of Death.”
“Who said I was talking about her?” Endorssi asked, “There are so many cougars trying to get in between me and Bam here. . . .”
“What, do you need me to break everything down for you?” Kun asked, “Seriously? Yuri’s staying with us because it’s dangerous, you’re here for whatever reason, Bero Bero isn’t coming with us to the Floor of Death, Cherry La said it would be interesting, Ehwa probably died, but she was going to be with us in order to support Bam because she was his teammate before. Min’s coming with us because Hoaqin ripped out part of her soul and if she doesn’t get it back, she’ll die. That’s it. That’s all the girls in this group.”
“You forgot about Hwa Ryun!” Endorssi snapped, like it was a gotcha, “And what the hell -- none of you cared when I was going to die!”
“That’s not true!” Kun snapped, finally losing his cool, “And you know it! Didn’t you already talk to Bam about this?”
Endorssi mades a disgusted noise, and Kun took a moment to fume, but honestly, while he was making all the worst decisions he could think of, he might as well add one more to his list, “You were the one who refused to work with us. You were the one throwing ultimatums around. Do you really think you can just decide who Bam cares about? Do you really think that’s up to you?”
“I never said that!” Endorssi snapped; her voice was getting quieter now, though it was hard to say if she was mollified or preparing something worse, “What, do you want me to be like you? Holding myself back until I can’t take it anymore, because what if he leaves, what if I’m not good enough for him? Better not fucking test it, right?”
Kun was silent.
Endorssi didn’t let that stop her -- she never let such things as sensitivity and good manners stop her though, so what else was new, “You keep saying that I’m trying to decide these things for him, but isn’t that what you do? Sneaking around in the shadows, waiting until the right moment to say the right word to make him do whatever you want -- you wouldn’t understand anything about me -- or him -- you’re just a coward!”
And with that, she seems to give up on the idea of food, just turning on him and storming out of the room. Kun was trembling; he raised a hand to run his fingers through his hair and told himself he wasn’t shaking.
“Are you okay?”
It was Min’s voice, which was enough that when Kun whirled around he wasn’t as composed as he would have liked -- she still seemed half asleep, blinking bleary eyes at him from the doorway where Endorssi was a moment ago, “Were you and Endorssi fighting?”
“We do that,” Kun said brightly, and motioned her over, “Shouldn’t you be sleeping? Where’s Bam?”
“Umm. . .” Min knew how to say things delicately, and Kun was prepared for an outright lie as she moved towards him, “I think he’s sorting some things out. You should talk to him later, though.”
“I will,” Kun promised, “I just have to . . . sort some things out too.”
He tousled her hair as she got closer, and she seemed to like that, closing her eyes and leaning into his hand, just slightly.
“He was playing with your hair when he woke up,” Kun said, without thinking, and Min looked away.
“It’s soft,” she agreed, “I like playing with my hair too.”
It was a weird response, but Min was a bit of a weird person.
“Help me set up the table,” Kun said, “Did you have any dreams?”
“No,” Min shook her head, but moved in beside him to help gather things up, “Hopefully tonight. Then I’ll find out if he was talking about Wangnan.”
“Yeah,” Kun agreed, and reached out to pat her on the head again, not sure what exactly the feeling in his chest was -- pride, reassurance, relief, nothing he should have been feeling, nothing that he’d feel if Bam were doing the exact same thing -- but not wanting to think about it, “You do that.”