Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first call is as much out of curiosity as it is any sense of personal responsibility. Khun has been gone for almost a month and Rak’s complaints have petered out to an occasional “useless blue turtle” (suspiciously evoking so much emotion that the crocodile has to retreat to his room, exclusively during his assigned cooking days). Isu wants to know what’s going on. Did Khun find a house to rent? How many regulars has Khun scammed into joining his team? Has he given in and killed Rachel yet?

... and, well, Isu supposes there is some feeling of responsibility too. It’s not that he thinks he could have stopped Khun. He’s well aware that there’s not a person left in the tower who can stop Khun— the one with the best chance is gone, and that’s why Khun left in the first place.

No, he knows he couldn’t have done anything; he knows his own limits. He just wonders, sometimes. What would have happened if they’d all stayed together? Could Khun have been happy, eventually?

Because that’s what he gathers from the first call: Khun is unhappy. He hides it well, but Isu supposes there’s not much use to it considering the situation he’s in.

“Come back,” Isu says less than two minutes into the call. He’s sitting outside their rented house, ignoring the all-too-common screaming match inside. It’s a nice day, breezy with a clear blue sky Isu can almost imagine is real, like the stories; his words echo out across the empty lawn, hollow and half-hearted.

“I found a scout,” Khun says. His words are hollow too, but Isu just listens, tapping his foot against the ground. “She came to me, actually. She’s highly qualified and has a few recommendations.”

“Mmm,” Isu hums, tapping his finger against the fabric of his pants. He’s remembering, unwillingly, the night Khun left: the cold air, the white puffs of his breath. The undefinable feeling of watching Khun leave and then walking back inside and leaning against the door, feeling suddenly worn out.

“This might be easier than I thought,” Khun says matter-of-factly. Isu thinks that Khun has never been more wrong, but he just hums his agreement one more time. It must catch Khun’s attention: he goes silent for a moment on the other side and Isu pauses his insistent tapping.

“You think I made the wrong choice,” Khun says flatly.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You haven’t said much of anything at all. I have other matters to attend to, I don’t need to sit on a call with you because you—“

“I just wanted to check in,” Isu offers up. He knows they weren’t close, before, but they were friends. They all were. And he won’t let that fade away in the wake of what has happened. He has little else to grasp onto, so here he is, gripping with unseemly desperation. For a second, he knows it; he can feel Khun moving to hang up, but then there’s a rustle on the other side and they sit in silence for a moment more.

“I’ll update you as our team progresses. Let me know how things are going on your end,” Khun says.

“Will do. Don’t kill Rachel,” Isu jokes, even more hollowly. Khun hangs up. Isu curses himself out (briefly) and then Rachel (at length and with variety).

***

“Anyone new?” Isu is in his room this time, taking cover from Anaak, who is on a rampage about something or another. (Isu hardly bothers to keep track anymore. If Anaak comes to him, he tells her “Well, Endorsi said—“ and she’s out the door in moments). He figured he might as well take his moment of free time and volunteer himself to be impaled with words, so here he is, ten seconds into a call with Khun Aguero Agnes.

There’s a shuffling noise on the other end, and Shibisu is shocked when Khun actually answers. “Michael. A wave controller. He smiles constantly.”

“I’ve heard that’s actually pretty typical for happy people.”

Khun scoffs audibly. Isu, who wasn’t even aware such a thing could transfer over a call, rolls his eyes. There’s a thump against the door, which rattles dangerously.

“Is that Endorsi?”

“No, Anaak. Although Endorsi has to be at the root of it.“

“Of course.” Khun sounds vaguely amused, but also distracted, like he’s simultaneously reading something (or maybe deciding the fate of the tower itself). Isu wobbles at offended but somehow, inexplicably, lands on charmed . Clearly, Khun has designated him worthy of a small fraction of mind space— considering what he must be sharing it with, Isu sits up a little straighter.

“Rak left at the beginning of the week.”

This seems to get Khun’s full attention. “What?”

“He and Paracule—“

“Pickles,” Khun mutters, almost imperceptibly.

“— left to train.”

“They left together? Willingly?” Khun sounds skeptical.

“Paracule tagged along.”

“Mm. Will you guys be okay without your fearless leader?”

Isu smiles. “They have a new fearless leader—“

“Laure?”

Isu hangs up this time. (Come on. Laure woke up once last week and promptly fell asleep in the middle of the kitchen. They haven’t been able to budge him since).

***

“Rachel hugged me,” Khun spits out. Isu had called during a gap in training and is still half out of breath: his eyes widen and he flails, like a fish gasping for air.

“Did— is—“

Khun’s voice is quieter when he takes mercy and cuts him off. Isu can tell he’s regretting saying anything, but Isu feels oddly honored.

“I let her do it. I told her I was there if she needed someone to talk to.”

Isu sits down right there on the grass, gesturing Anaak and Endorsi away— Anaak manages to nail him right in the chest with a kick before they reluctantly jump over to another spot.

“You okay over there?”

“Yeah,” Isu croaks out. “Yeah, just, Anaak’s legs have ungodly strength.” Khun snorts a little and Isu feels a rush of victory.

Isu sits for a moment, running his fingers through the grass. “There isn’t anything else you could have done,” he says eventually.

“You’re right.” Khun has that drifting tone again, as if he’s already checked out of the conversation, so Isu’s next words are unordinarily heartfelt.

“I know it’s hard, but you’re getting through it. You’re going to make it up the tower, and then you’re going to get revenge for all of us.”

“Because I’m the—“

“Second smartest one. Yeah. I was going to let you have first, but I know you wouldn’t want my pity.” Isu smiles down at the tufts of grass he’s pulled up, but it’s more of a grimace. He knows exactly where Khun was going, and he would have agreed, once. Back on the testing floor, he’d seen Khun through the rest of their eyes: sharp, unreliable, cruel.

But now he’s seen— well, he’s seen a few more layers, a few more shedded disguises. And from what he’s seen, he knows that Khun is trustworthy. He can be cruel, but never unnecessarily. And it’s a shame that Khun sees himself the way that others have always seen him.

“You know, you aren’t—“ His pocket beeps. The call has been ended. Shibisu wavers between annoyance and relief. He’s not sure if he’s ready to become Khun’s close friend. Really, he takes enough abuse on the daily as it is.

— he lands on annoyance, of course, and shuns his pocket for the next few days. When he calls, one day after his usual weekly date, the pocket is silent, unanswered— Isu waits, indignant.

“You’re late.”

Isu smiles. (From then on, Isu calls once a week. Khun always answers.)

Chapter Text

The newscaster’s voice is smooth, flattened out by filters and tuning and any number of other programs to make the news as perfect as possible. Untouchable and sleek, so that the tragedies slide right past a regular’s ear. Isu usually keeps the news playing from his pocket while he’s working, or sits down and watches it while he’s eating, but he’s never had the whole team watching alongside him.

The tension almost flickers between them all, jumping from the gleam of Endorsi’s narrowed eyes to Hatz’s clenched fist. Anaak, on Isu’s left side, lies in a convincingly relaxed posture, chin resting on her hand, but Isu can see the glare she’s leveling at the screen. The newscaster’s voice comes back on, echoing through the room as the screen displays an image of a pile of rubble.

“In the 28F regular’s area, Arlene’s Hand blew up. Many regulars died or were injured...the regulars who rented a floating ship... assumed to be dead. Inside the hand, there was the symbol of FUG’s slayer nominee... a warning message from the slayer nominee, Jue Viole Grace, to the regulars joining the workshop battle...”

Isu hears snatches. What he’s really looking at, what they’re all really looking at, is the banner running along the bottom of the screen, scrolling text with an innocuously blue background and small white font, all in caps. The list of those involved in the explosion.

(ASSUMED TO BE DEAD) KHUN AGUERO AGNES

Isu feels like Anaak has kicked him in the chest, harder than ever before. They all glare in silence at the screen. Anaak, whose taunts to Isu often include “What? Talking to the blue guy again?”, is clenching her jaw so hard that Isu can hear her teeth grinding.

This isn’t just Khun Aguero Agnes, son of one of the 10 Great Families. This is Khun, one of them. They’ve already lost Bam: to them, this feels like insult on top of injury. And by some FUG bastard, no less.

Jue Viole Grace . Isu clenches his fist until he can feel his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, and then the tingling, sharp feeling of blood.

Endorsi turns off the television, which is spewing some sort of nonsense with Quant Blitz’s face; she faces them, in the spot that Isu usually stands when making an ill-advised speech, and clears her throat.

“We’re going to join the workshop battle and we’re going to destroy this slayer.”

Isu nods gravely with the rest of them. They file out, slowly, over the next few minutes; he stays on the couch for hours.

He’s thinking, of course, of the sound of Khun’s voice from his pocket. It’s become (no, it had become) a constant in his life— as the months dragged and then skipped past, he could rely on Khun to be there. Often dryly amused at Isu’s behalf or only partially paying attention, but somehow, he had become part of Isu’s life.

Now, feeling like that part has been torn out, leaving sharp, ragged edges, Isu chokes back tears. Endorsi already mercilessly teases him for that one time he cried watching a soap opera (okay, maybe three times, who doesn’t cry at that shit?). He won’t give her even more fodder.

(And part of him, a selfish part deep inside, wants to keep this for himself. He is certain that he knew Khun better than anyone else in this house, and although Khun might have considered Isu little more than an acquaintance, this is Isu’s loss. He wants a little misery to himself before they skip to revenge.)

His eyelids begin to close, heavy and maybe a little swollen from a few tears that snuck past his ironclad defense; he sighs and curls up on the couch.

When he wakes up the next morning, he’s spread out unceremoniously across his bed, as if he’s been dumped and then had his limbs hurriedly rearranged, but the covers are tucked awkwardly around him. From the hallway, there’s a whispered “no, save it for later” and then soft, retreating footsteps.

Isu buries his head in his pillow and sleeps: maybe Laure knows something after all.

Chapter Text

The sudden reappearance of Hatz should be both shocking and intriguing; the fact that it is only one of the two shows how strange this workshop battle has really been (and how little sleep Isu has been getting).

Isu listens in confusion as Hatz yells something about “the worst weapon” and Vespa notes a head injury; Isu is ready to finally shove it all and just go to sleep when he hears Hatz say the name “Viole” (and soon after, “Bam”).

Everything goes downhill from there. His team races back to the rooms; Hatz discards a metal pipe of some kind that he’s apparently been using as a sword; and they make the most shocking revelation of all: Khun fucking Aguero Agnes is fucking alive.

(Well, the revelation is made with significantly less swearing. And Isu does have to admit that the whole Viole-Bam thing is probably a runner up for “most shocking revelation”).

The next hour is a bit of a blur. Isu finds the room number relatively easily and there’s some sort of plan worked out: he’s supposed to calmly tell Khun the details while Hatz approaches with a weapon, in case Khun tries to make a break for it. They need in on this, and if there’s anyone who knows about Bam (and who can save him), it’s Khun.

Isu nods along. “I got it.”

And he might, if this were anything else. Calm and collected is something Isu is used to; it’s his role in this chaotic, crazy team of his. But just the idea of Khun being back and not saying a thing— of Khun being so close, closer than they had ever been the countless times that Isu had listened to Khun’s voice over a call— it’s messing with him.

Khun’s death had been enough to deal with. But now, Khun being alive? Bam being alive? And Khun knowing that Bam’s alive? Isu needs time to process: to figure out where all of these emotions are coming from, to make a plan. Time that he doesn’t have. 

So when he sees the door, he doesn’t knock or take a second to calm himself. He grabs for the handle and pushes, heedless of the chain locking it from the inside, and shoves the door open, ramming his shoulder against it until it breaks. His breath comes in gasps; his blood feels like it’s boiling in his veins.

He stands there for a moment, just looking at the figure sitting in the middle of the room.

Mr. Mask. Of course. Isu had sat next to him during gambling, talked about him with Ron Mei, even felt a sense of camaraderie at their shared failure. Mr. Mask’s— Khun’s—hands are clenched together where he sits — he’s clearly stuck in his own head— but Isu doesn’t really care. 

“Khun!” Saying his name out loud gives it an odd sense of clarity. It’s really him. Isu hasn’t actually seen him since the night that he left with Rachel; it feels strange to see him here, in the middle of the Archimedes, in a white dress shirt and black pants. It feels like something out of a dream.

Relief courses through Isu, quickly replaced by that wild, burning anger. It’s been months— months— since he last heard from Khun. He’d thought he was dead. He’d mourned him. And instead Khun has been in some wild chase to save Bam? Logically, it tracks, but for once, Isu has no space for logic.

Out of breath, as those sharp blue eyes look at him, Isu growls, “You bastard.”

“Shibisu!” The shock in Khun’s eyes is probably a sign of some sort— that Isu should slow down, or talk in a reasonable manner, or possibly carry out the plan that he agreed to less than five minutes before. But he’s already running toward Khun, unsure whether he wants to punch him or hug him.

“You bastard! You should’ve told me that you were alive!”

Khun’s eyes widen even more as Isu gets closer. “Wait—“

Isu never finds out if there’s going to be an explanation (or whether Khun is heading for a punch or a hug). Later on, he supposes it’s for the best; in the moment, he crashes back down to reality and looks sheepishly at Hatz, who stands stoically behind Khun with a gun pressed to his back.

“Don’t even think about running away, Earrings. I already know everything.”

***

Isu sits outside the bathroom. He can hear the water running inside as Khun washes the dye from his hair. He’s seen Khun. And yet it all feels so fragile, as if any moment, everything will fall apart.

He clenches his hands together, looking intently down at them, taking a breath. Two people have returned from the dead; clearly, today is just fucked up, and Isu needs to move on. He’ll deal with it later, like always.

“Khun, you noticed why Hatz and Mr. Ro couldn’t tell us what they found out?” he starts, tapping his thumb against his other hand. “Rankers from FUG are on the Archimedes watching our communications and movements.”

He has a sick feeling as he remembers their nights sleeping (or not-sleeping, for him) in their room. “Even if we knew, we couldn’t have done anything on that ship. We would have done something hasty and put all of us in danger.”

Another thought occurs to him, and he fights the urge to bury his face in his hands and just stay out here, listening to the splashes of water, letting it calm him. He doesn’t have time for that, though. They don’t have time for that. So he voices it aloud instead: “I know why FUG didn’t try to stop us from coming here. We were hostages to keep Bam with them.”

His hands clench into fists, almost instinctively, reacting to the all-too-familiar anger and the feeling of helplessness that’s threatening to overwhelm him. The half-moon scars on his palm, barely healed, sting beneath his nails.  “Shit, I won’t forgive those bastards! How dare they ruin our reunion like this?”

He lapses into silence and fears, for a moment, that this is it. The dream is over and he’s sitting alone in some hallway, talking at an empty bathroom.

But there’s a sharp inhale from behind the door. “It’s not ruined yet, Shibisu.” He looks up. He knows that voice, and it’s a very specific one: Khun has a plan. “We have time to turn this around. If we play this right, we’ll have Bam back by the end of the match.”

There’s a deadly certainty to his voice, something Isu’s familiar with; but there’s a new element too. There’s hope. Guarded as it is, it’s something that Isu hasn’t heard from Khun in years. 

Isu closes his eyes for a moment and just breathes before opening them and standing up . He has no clue what Khun’s angling for or how he’ll even make it through the rest of the day, but he knows one thing with absolute certainty. “Yes.”

“What?”

“I’m in. Let’s do this.”

Chapter Text

Isu is leaving in a few hours. He’s met Wangnan, Team Sweet and Sour’s new leader; he’s already checked in with his team (and helped them pack, almost taking over entirely in Anaak’s case). Now there are just the goodbyes.

He assumes that Khun is planning on putting it off until they leave, the absolute last possible moment. That’s why it’s a surprise when Khun pulls him aside to an unused table and perches on it, Bam nowhere in sight.

“What’s on your mind?” Isu only half wants to know. For all of the emotions this person has evoked in him over the past years, he feels as if he barely knows him now. He isn’t Isu’s Khun— he’s someone else.

Isu supposes it would be more accurate to define him by Bam: Khun is no longer without Bam. He has him back, and now he’s rushing into battle behind Bam under illogical circumstances, with that light in his eyes that says he will not be stopped. Isu has shared the language of logic with Khun for years, and it feels as if Khun tossed it aside the moment Bam returned.

“I wanted to say goodbye,” Khun says mildly. Isu risks a glance at him: he’s looking out over the rest of the wide-open seating area. Isu knows without following his gaze that he will find Bam, talking to their mixed teams and entirely unaware of the watchful eyes that follow him at all times.

“And?” Isu says. He puts his hands in his pockets and looks away from Khun, out to the wide, cloudless blue sky.

“I wanted to ask you to keep an eye out. For Rachel.”

“Of course.” Isu glances over at him. “The Hell Train, then.”

“Yeah.”

Isu drops it for now. He’ll warn Khun against it later, when they’re gone and he can send a quick message or end a call with it; for now, he lets the silence wash over him, feeling the comfort of just having a friend nearby.

“Be careful,” he says eventually. He was never really worried for Khun, in all the time that he was gone. Annoyed, curious, sympathetic, sure. Even shocked and terrified when they’d thought him dead. But Khun was always a bit of a legend. If anyone could make it, it would be Khun.

Now, there’s something different. Isu isn’t sure when it changed— maybe in the midst of those countless weekly calls, for years on end? Maybe the moment Khun asked Isu, after hours of silence, to forfeit the entire game in order to end the match and save Bam? (Or maybe the moment that Isu took a leap of faith and actually did it, heart beating wildly in his chest, trusting that Khun would make it all work somehow.)

Either way, Khun has become irreversibly human in Isu’s eyes. He sees the slow rise and fall of his chest; the hair that’s fallen out from where it’s been tucked behind his left ear and is lying crookedly across his cheek; the tenseness in his shoulders as he contemplates a future Isu can’t quite picture.

And there’s the heart of it. Isu isn’t sure, anymore. He used to know Khun, to have an insight that was startling at times but mostly accurate; now, he wonders what Khun will do with Bam at his side. Is there another grave news segment in Isu’s future?

“It’ll be okay,” Khun says, heaving a sigh that breaks through Isu’s worries. He looks Isu in the eyes, maybe for the first time since that startled first look, and smiles. “Take care of yourselves.” He gets up, tucks that strand of hair behind his ear, and smirks: “Watch your drinking. Hangovers aren’t particularly conducive to battle.”

Isu winces at his overly loud tone and watches Khun’s retreating back with a familiar mix of annoyance and fondness. He should have known: Khun is a constant. Maybe happier, more prone to taking risks—but Isu has full faith that they’ll meet again up the tower.

Chapter Text

“Hey, what’s up?”

Isu grins at the half-distracted voice. He shuffles a little away from his teammates, glancing sideways at Endorsi and Anaak, who are both sunning themselves with their eyes closed.

“What? You miss me?” Isu is making this call discreetly: he knows the remainder of his day rests on how few people know he is calling again. Anaak has been mercilessly teasing him (obviously a beloved pastime) and she doesn’t need any more reason to do so.

The response is instantaneous. Khun is annoyed. “Hey, don’t call me if you have nothing special to say. Do you know how many times you’ve called me this week?”

Isu does, in fact. This is his twelfth call of the week. He supposes he should slow it down, but there’s a surplus of time during this strange period of relaxation and he’d rather be talking to Khun than his teammates.

Well, and there’s a niggling feeling in the back of his head that if he doesn’t call, Khun will forget about him entirely. He has his team back, now. He has Bam. There’s a lightness to his voice that Isu hasn’t heard for years.

Why does Isu care? He’s wondered this himself many times. It’s probably the pure annoyance level of his own teammates: these short, frustrated calls with Khun have been vacations in comparison.

And he’s used to being the annoying, lame one, the one that keeps calling when no one wants to answer. He’s a strong believer in “friendship takes work” (as well as “back the hell off when said friend has a weapon in your face”). Since the latter has never applied to Khun, who is now a disembodied voice from Isu’s pocket, there’s really no deterrent.

Isu has related that last part to Khun, of course, who snorted and replied that he had much more elegant ways to make Isu’s life miserable than a weapon to the face. Isu, while absolutely aware of the truth of this statement, feels a joyful immunity. He knows Khun is, at his heart, a bit of a softie to his friends (just as he knows that saying this to Khun will result in a weapon to the face, more elegant ways be damned).

Isu sighs. Maybe, at the heart of it, he misses being a whole team. Those days at the Wolhaiksong resort felt like the end of a years-long nightmare: having Bam back made sense in a way not much else had since he’d disappeared. It feels cruel to be split up so soon.

He says as much to Khun and the response is immediate: “Shibisu, what are you talking about? It’s only been a month since you guys left.”

Isu tunes out the rest of Khun’s inevitable tirade, remembering Bam’s smile. He’d stumbled past the three after a night of... celebration... , on the way back to his own room, and he might have been ready to pass out, but it had felt right to see the three of them like that. Spread out on the floor, together, safe and sound and asleep (with Khun in the act of stealing the blankets). There had been something bittersweet about it, but Isu focuses on the sweet.

“But, Khun— those guys were good guys, and...” he feels the prickle of tears and knows that Khun will be able to hear it in his voice, “I couldn’t even spend much time with Bam, even though we hadn’t seen eachother in such a long time.”

He can practically hear the eyeroll. “Shibisu, you are—“

“Hey, Shibisu, I’m thirsty! Get me some soda!”

Isu glares at Endorsi. “Why don’t you ask Vespa to get it for you? Can’t you see I’m talking on the phone?”

“Shut up, Baldy, are you talking back to me? You wanna ride Bong Bong and go straight to hell? Just shut up and move.”

Isu sighs and heads for the kitchen. He can hear Khun’s amused laugh on the other side: “Are you really the leader of your team?”

“Be quiet! That woman is an exception,” he groans. “By the way, did you pass the test?”

“Yeah, our teamwork is getting pretty good. Bam’s strong, without a doubt, but the others have grown quite strong as well.”

Isu smiles, a little bleakly, down at the glass mug in his hands, running his finger over the smooth surface. “That’s scary. You three plus the others.” He dumps the soda into the mug, watching the ice fizz and clink against the glass. “Keep it up. We’ll be waiting for you.”

“Hey, where’s my drink?”

Isu grimaces and walks over to the deck. Taking a breath, he repeats, “We’ll get prepared and be waiting for you guys.” It’s a promise more to himself than to Khun.

“Coming, I’m coming!” he shouts in Endorsi’s general direction. He hangs up the call and then pauses, typing out a message: Oh, and congratulations on “the three” once again!

It’s better this way. Khun can hear his worries over the phone, but a message is safe.

That’s why he sends the next one as well: Oh, by the way, I don’t recommend the Hell Train. Well, it’s up to you, though.

He can practically feel Khun’s annoyance already— he smiles and hands the soda to Endorsi.

“That’s it! Beverage service is over for the day!”

“Shut up, Baldy.”

“Ha, he called the blue guy again,” Anaak says with relish, turning over on her deck chair.

“Oh, go to hell,” he mutters, heading to his room.

“What?”

“Nothing!”

***

“What?” Khun has answered the last three calls this way; Isu would feel offended, if all three calls hadn’t been within the span of a few days.

“I have news,” he says weakly.

“Really?”

“No.”

Khun makes a noncommittal noise on the other end; Isu relaxes a little, but he should know better.

“Why are you calling so much, really?”

Isu tenses. “I told you, I’m checking in. On the dream team .” He’s a little too tense to go for the breezy tone he was hoping to adopt: it comes out edgy and he doesn’t have the guts to fix it. It was only a matter of time before Khun got to the bottom of this. He’s surprised he tolerated so many calls in the first place.

“What’s your deal. Do you have something against us?”

Isu hears the implication: us versus you. The very thing he knew had been there the whole time, but was too afraid to bring out.

“No,” he says softly. He sighs a little, half convinced that Khun will hang up out of annoyance. He doesn’t tend to tolerate this stuff at all. But the call blinks on, second by second, and Isu figures he owes Khun an explanation.

“I’m just worried that everything’s changed.” It’s part of the truth— the less pathetic-sounding part, but pitiable all the same. Isu is used to being the pitiable one. He supposes whatever comes next was inevitable since the beginning.

“It has.” Isu freezes, looks sideways at his pocket, but then Khun continues. “Bam is back now. Everything’s going to be different. But we need you guys to be strong. We’ll need your support in the future.”

“Of course.” This is the one thing Isu has been sure of throughout all this: his own team. They’re extraordinary, and even the three need the help of such powerful allies. “They’ve been training harder recently, preparing to take the next test. I think by next week, they might even—“

“We’ll need you too, Isu.”

Isu stops. His fingers, which have been tapping a mad, incessant rhythm on his desk, freeze. And then he smiles and puffs out his chest. “Yeah, I knew that. How could you survive without—“

“A constant pest to motivate Princess Endorsi along her path to ultimate power?”

“Come on, you don’t even like her, what bullshit is that? I—“

The pocket beeps. Khun has hung up.

Isu lets out a sigh of pure, unwarranted relief.

***

Isu dials his calls back to once a week, like the years before the workshop battle, before Bam’s return; he’s shocked when one day, in the middle of the week, Khun calls him. He dives for the phone, dodging Endorsi and Anaak, and answers.

“What? What’s going on?”

“Not much, just checking in.”

He can hear the smirk in Khun’s voice before he hangs up the call himself.

The next week, mere days after Isu’s weekly check-in, Khun calls in the middle of training. Isu answers, gasping for air; Khun says, “I’ll let you catch your breath.” It’s the beginning of a weekly tradition.

Isu hates it, but part of him dives for the calls with relish. Khun Aguero Agnes, he thinks, is an evil mastermind.

Chapter Text

It is a surprise to many when Wangnan and Isu build a precarious friendship based entirely on their mutual understanding of Khun. They trade complaints (whoops, sorry: lively anecdotes) about their teams, bad jokes, and most importantly, Khun intel.

The most recent of the intel is this: Khun is pissed at Isu.

“Really?” Isu frowns. “What did I do?”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Wangnan seems mostly amused at Isu’s misfortune. “You’ve been avoiding his calls. I think he’s worried.”

“Yeah, right,” Isu says, a little shortly. “He was avoiding my calls before. I bet he’s just annoyed I can turn it around on him.”

It wouldn’t seem like much of a difference, to anyone else. Khun still answers Isu’s weekly calls. They exchange updates. Khun even jokes with him sometimes. He just never makes his own weekly calls, something that Isu hadn’t realized he relied on so much until they disappeared, leaving a hole in the pit of his stomach.

Wangnan is silent for a moment— Isu can tell he disagrees— but then he sighs. “What’s been going on? Is your team okay?”

Isu glances covertly at his door. “Endorsi and Anaak are fighting.”

“Oh, that’s all?”

“No, really fighting. They seem to think they can go up the tower alone.” Isu can feel a headache coming on. Everything seems to be falling apart around him and he can’t do a thing to stop it. His words just bounce right off of the two of them (always have, really). “What’s the use of being team leader when I can’t fix anything?”

”I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Wangnan replies, obviously uncomfortable. He pauses, and then adds, “You’ve made it this far, right? There has to be a reason they haven’t split before.”

“Yeah. Yeah, you’re right.” Isu rubs his forehead. “We’re taking the floor test tomorrow, I’ll check in afterwards. Good luck to you guys.”

“You too.”

Call ended. Isu stares at his reflection in the pocket and wishes everything to go back to normal.

***

That’s why it’s a surprise, of course, when days after a bit of a mishap, Khun calls.

Isu supposes he should have seen it coming: he’d missed yet another weekly call to Khun, and he’d begun avoiding a few teammates who claimed to have heard from Khun. It had only been a matter of time.

It was just that Isu knew he had messed up this time, really messed up. He’d burdened the team, held them back for weeks before an important test, and altogether set back the entire operation. They only had one more chance to pass this test now; if they didn’t, they wouldn’t make it in time to keep their meticulous schedule. They’d built up some cushion, but not enough for this.

“Hey,” Khun says. “What’s going on?”

Isu shifts, wincing a little at the sharp pain in his ribs. How lame. Anaak would have taken the hit and returned it with two times the power; Hatz would have slashed the regular down without a glance. Endorsi— well, she wouldn’t have even taken a hit in the first place.

“Not much. We—“

“Wangnan told me. Something’s going on.”

Isu curses out Wangnan in his head, glancing at the message flashing on his pocket: Hadn’t heard from you, was worried. Also, Khun is scary.

Thanks a lot, he types. Next time I see you, you’re dead. (He deletes the last bit before sending— maybe Khun has rubbed off on Isu a bit more than he’d thought.)

“Shibisu?”

“I’m sorry,” he says simply. There’s a crashing noise out in the hallway and for once, Isu wants nothing more than to hang up the call and rush out there.

“For what?”

“I messed up the plan. We’ve been set back at least six weeks.”

There’s a pause. Isu listens for the cause of the crash to be revealed, but it’s eerily silent in the hallway (silence in this house is always eery).

“ Isu ?”

“Mm?” He realizes Khun is prodding him for details. It feels like a good moment to make a joke out of this, maybe save the gloomy atmosphere of the call, but Khun sounds tense, and if he hangs up the call, Isu is going to have to do this all over again.

“I got hit pretty bad during the test and the team had to surrender to get me out.” Isu looks down at the picked-at threads of his covers, shamefacedly. He can’t stop playing it over and over in his head, watching Endorsi and Anaak come back for him, watching Hatz sheathe his sword.

It wasn’t entirely his fault, he supposes: Endorsi and Anaak had been fighting (during a floor test — Isu felt like everything was falling apart) and he’d stepped in to be team leader for once, to pull them all together and keep them focused. Except he’d been dumb and gotten hurt and here they are now, stuck on the same floor, retaking a test for the first time.

Isu’s not an idiot. He knows he is valuable to his team. He knows he is smart, and that his plans get his team through the tower faster than they would without him. He even knows, on good days, that his team respects him and at the heart of it all, he is one of them now.

But he also knows that they are all outstanding, powerful, kickass individuals who can each kill an army of men with a glance, and Isu is just the freckled one with the bad jokes and too many purple sweaters.

There’s silence on the other end: Isu picks at another thread, watching the blanket unravel, tugging until it gets stuck in a knot. “We’ll try our best,” he offers. “We could even try for four or five weeks. I don’t really need to heal; since I’m not a fighter, I can lay low and try to stay out of things. We might even be able to—“

“What the hell, Isu.”

“Is that a question?”

“Shut up.” Surprisingly enough, Isu shuts up. He’s hardly heard Khun angry before (cold, distant, scheming, but never really angry with such heat). It is a terrifying experience. “What the hell were you thinking? You’re a scout. You don’t fight, you don’t take hits, you collect information. If you encounter an opponent, you let your teammates do the fighting.”

Isu feels a stir of dormant anger. “What, just because I have ultra-powerful teammates doesn’t mean I’m useless. I—“

“Yes. It does. It means you let them take the action, you let them do the fighting, and you stay safe .”

“Alright! Alright! I know I messed up, I just—“ Isu cuts himself off, with a dawning suspicion about the silent hallway. “Get in here, right now,” he growls.

“What?”

“Not you,” Isu says, frustrated. He waits: the door opens and Anaak sneaks in, looking far less sheepish than she should.

“Stay out of this,” he tells the green-skinned girl, who stares unrepentantly at him. “Don’t you have a fight to get into with Endorsi right about now?”

She glares. “Cut it, baldy, don’t you have a fight to get back to? We’re not the only childish ones.”

“Oh, how mature, you—“

“Just heal already. We were doing perfectly fine and then—“

“Perfectly fine? You and Endorsi are pathetic. You fight all day long, every day— I don’t think I can remember an hour of actual silence in this house— and you can’t just talk? You’re acting like spoiled children. You should be ashamed of yourselves.” He pauses for a moment, stunned at his own words, and then takes a breath and forges on. Might as well say it all. “We aren’t just a group of people, Anaak, we’re a team. We support each other and work together. Maybe you should try it sometime.”

Anaak looks shocked. Isu knows that she’s never been spoken back to by him— she faces it everyday from Endorsi and dishes it out just fine, but this is different.

Anaak shrinks into herself a little, and Isu feels much less satisfaction than he had thought he would, in his countless daydreams of finally snapping and reaming the two out.

“You’re the child, Shibisu. We’ve had to carry you up the tower and now here you are, ruining everything.” Her voice is cold and sharp; she turns on her heels and leaves, tail held stiffly in her wake. She slams the door behind her.

Isu sinks into the bed, wincing again at the pain in his ribs. Now he really has messed everything up. He looks at his pocket and does a double-take: the call is still ticking away its seconds.

“Khun?” he says weakly.

“I’m here.” Khun’s voice is softer now, or at least as soft as his voice ever is. Isu figures he’s safe from Khun’s tirade after that whole debacle. There’s a pause, and then: “When— how often do you talk with Wangnan?”

Isu frowns in confusion. “I don’t know, once every two weeks? Why?”

“No reason.”

They lapse into silence. Isu can feel yet another headache coming on (a constant companion these days), and there’s a stabbing pain in his ribs. He sighs, and then comes to his second realization of the day, a much more welcome one than the first.

“You were angry with me,” Isu says, grinning a little against his will.

“I still am. You messed up the test—“

“Yeah, and I got hurt, and you’re mad at me for getting hurt. Are you actually worried?” Isu smiles wider. “I can’t believe it. Khun Aguero Agnes, mad about some cracked ribs.”

“Cracked ribs? Isu, you can’t just—“ Khun sighs, and then laughs a little, weakly. Isu can’t believe his ears. “You’re an idiot. Take care.”

***

As if the call wasn’t odd enough, the next day, Anaak and Endorsi come into his room and apologize meekly. Isu could never have imagined the word “meek” being applied to either of the two, but that is what they are; they tell him to rest up, leave the room, and the house is silent for the rest of the day.

(They exchange eye rolls when they think he’s turned away; he should be offended, but counts it as a win. Their team— their messy, wild team— is back together.)

(Isu would never admit it, but the silence keeps him up for hours. It’s just strange .)

“Khun totally chewed out the two of them,” Wangnan tells him cheerfully the next day. “I couldn’t make out the threat but they went silent real fast. Congratulations, you’re back on his good side.”

Isu flops back onto his pillow and smiles, ever so slightly.

“He seems pissed at me, though. Did I do something?”

“Shouldn’t you know?” Isu smirks and ends the call, more amused than residually annoyed about Wangnan’s betrayal.

Forgive me, comes a message from Wangnan. I need as many allies as I can get in these dark times.

We’ll see,  he sends, grinning.

“Endorsi, can I have a soda?” he calls out, correctly interpreting the creak at the door.

“Yeah right, get it yourself, you—“

“Please?”

“Fine.”

(Isu apologizes to Anaak as soon as his bed rest is over. She grunts and kicks him, and Isu is fairly certain one of his ribs is disturbed, but it’s worth it. He’d felt a strange amount of guilt for his outburst, and he can swear he sees her smile as she walks away.)

Chapter Text

There are two weeks left until Khun’s team boards the Hell Train, and everything is going crazy.

“Are you going to make it in time?”

“I don’t know,” Khun says wearily. “I think we’ll be a day later than planned, and we’ll probably arrive in the evening. We’re cutting it too close. Nothing else can go wrong.”

Isu sighs. “You’ll make it. You always do. How’s the team? I heard Wangnan has some new weapons.”

Khun snorts. “We thought he was crazy, playing with antimatter, but they’re surprisingly effective. He almost has them under control now, although he almost took my head off last training session.”

“I thought he sounded a bit scolded last time we talked.” Isu laughs. “Think he might be a match for Casano?”

“... it’s possible,” Khun says reluctantly. This is as much as a glowing recommendation, coming from Khun; Isu smirks. “I’m worried,” Khun says, more quietly. “This is insane, isn’t it?”

“Are you just realizing that now?” Isu is unmoved. “I told you, the Hell Train is for mad people. The fact that Casano Beniamino is boarding alone should tell you to stay the hell away.”

“Yeah, and I’ve told you, we need Casano to save Horyang.” Khun sounds more tired than frustrated. Isu’s sure he’s gone over the costs and the benefits too many times to count, and yet somehow he’s ended up with this plan.

“Bam is already there. If there’s anyone you want on your side, it’ll be him. Come on, Khun, you’ll be fine.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

Isu holds back another sigh. They both know who Khun is worried about. “He’ll be fine. If you ask me, he’s too powerful for his own good, and he’s still growing.”

“Exactly.”

There’s a noise from one of the other rooms, and Isu groans when he checks the time. “I have to sleep, we’re training tomorrow.”

“Mm.”

“I’m gonna hang up.”

“Alright.”

Isu hesitates. “Really, Khun. If anyone can do it, it’s you. Get some rest.”

Khun is silent. Isu hovers over “end call”, listening to the faint sound of breathing from the other end and the occasional creaking from across the hall.

Isu makes a mental note to check Hatz’s bed frame sometime this week. The house was a cheap rental, and the furniture isn’t exactly luxurious; Endorsi, for all her complaints, wasn’t willing to pay for luxury on such an expensive floor.

“Rent is due in a few weeks,” he mutters. “I can’t believe we’ll be gone before then.”

Khun’s voice is muffled when it comes over the line. “You’ve been there too long.”

“It isn’t bad to get attached, is it?”

“It is,” comes the dry reply. “Why do you think Laure takes his home with him?”

Isu smiles. If anything, he thinks, his home is this moment. The sound of a friend’s voice in the late evening, the cool breeze through a window. He would never tell this to Khun, whose home is probably Bam (it’s obvious). But he feels it all the same as he eases back onto his bed and stares up at the ceiling, right at the little stain shaped like a star.

“What was your home like, before all this?”

He freezes up a little after he asks it; just like everyone else, he’s heard about Maria and the ‘defected son’.

“Cold,” Khun says. Isu waits for more, but it seems Khun is done; Isu is surprised he got a response at all. “What about you?”

Isu rolls over and turns off the lights, pulling his blanket to his chin.

“Not much of anything,” he says truthfully. “My friends were more of a family than my family was.”

“The one you promised to go up the tower for?”

Isu smiles in the dark. “I didn’t think anyone remembered that. Yeah.”

There’s a shuffling noise— Isu can imagine Khun lying on his bed, staring up at his ceiling. He bets Khun’s doesn’t have a mysterious stain.

“I’m going to sleep, then,” Isu says. “Good night.”

“Good night,” Khun murmurs. And then there’s silence, but a shared silence, something Isu hasn’t felt in a long time. Isu looks at the “end call”, again, knowing he should press it, but allows himself to lie back and be lulled to sleep by Khun’s constant, even breathing.

The next morning, Isu wakes up and the call has been ended. 6 hours long, his pocket reports.

***

“Ehwa used a controlled blast of fire today,” Khun greets him with the next evening.

“Oh.” Isu feels caught off guard. It’s not that he thought Khun would be eager to talk about the night before (in fact, he’d even anticipated some sort of avoidance or awkwardness). But this feels strange. “Great.”

“Not great,” Khun corrects, “she should have been able to do this weeks ago.”

“Better now than never.”

“Better two weeks ago than now.”

Isu lets out a frustrated laugh. “Anaak set the table on fire today and she doesn’t even have fire powers. I’d say you’re doing fine.”

Khun doesn’t question it. At this point, Isu has told him enough stories about his team that he doesn’t blink at even the most questionable ones; Isu’s almost certain Khun knows them better now than he ever did on the testing floor, and he hasn’t talked with any of them for months.

“Did you... need something?” Isu looks warily at his pocket. They’ve talked every day this week now; the last night was only the third. Isu tends not to question Khun’s calling habits, but this seems off, especially coming from him.

“No.” There’s a shuffling noise on the other end, Khun standing up. “I’d better check on Ehwa, actually.” Khun and Isu both know Ehwa doesn’t need checking on— he’s retreating, because that’s what Khun does. Strategic attacks and retreats. Particularly in personal matters.

Isu doesn’t want to assume, but these calls have crossed over from his business to personal life long ago. In fact, he’s not sure when he can remember the two lives ever being distinctive instead of the blurred, intertwining mess he’s stuck with now: the tower is their business, their goals, their lives. Every single second is consumed with it. These people that he have met are part of the tower, just as the tower is an irrevocable part of them, but they all have a place in Isu’s heart too. (Some possibly more than others, not that he’d ever admit it.)

“Stay. Talk,” Isu says. He smiles. “I have an hour before I want to sleep.”

Khun’s reply is uncharacteristically uncertain. “... sure. Yeah.”

Isu, who can see the follow-up— something more certain, more calculating— coming from a mile away, interrupts. “If you can believe it, apparently the next floor’s test is entirely written.”

“I don’t believe it. Do your research again.” Isu, who has entirely made up the comment, smiles. “And don’t smile, I know you were baiting me.”

(They fall asleep on the call again; Isu wakes up to an ended call and two messages from Khun: Your snoring is insufferable, and then, Delete this message or I will kill you.

Isu deletes the second message, keeps the first, and jokingly changes Khun’s contact to “Khun My Love”. He texts Khun as much and gets no response.

Khun calls that evening, like clockwork, and for every evening before Khun is set to board the Hell Train, Isu falls asleep to Khun’s slow, steady breathing.)

Chapter Text

“We missed the train. I need some information.”

Isu, who had been sleeping until two seconds ago, sits up and blinks groggily. There’s a little light coming in from the hallway— Isu isn’t supposed to know this, but Hatz has been training early morning and late night recently with a new sword. Isu stifles a yawn and looks at his pocket. “What?”

“I need to know about the 35th floor test.”

Khun’s voice is slow and controlled, which Isu knows from experience means one thing: Khun is panicking and on the edge of snapping. Isu rubs at his eyes one more time, taking a breath, and searches up the test to advance from 35th to 36th.

“The ‘Advancement Test’,” he reads. “A defensive and offensive team compete. The offensive team aims to insert a card into the central register. The defensive team must either defend the register for an hour or take away all of the offensive team’s cards.” He squints at the screen, considering the test. Not the most complex, but if a regular on the offensive team could get their hands on some sort of shinsu barrier and pass detection by the defensive team’s light bearer... “Wait. You missed the train?”

Isu’s brain grinds to a halt. His heart sinks. Khun had been preparing for the Hell Train for too long. How did this happen? Isu had been worried they would be late, worried they would encounter an opponent that they wouldn’t be able to get past. But he’d never, in his most heart-pounding nightmares, imagined that they wouldn’t make it onto the train.

Isu hadn’t heard from Khun for days; he’d received a short message that they had arrived in Train City the previous afternoon, and he suspects Khun hasn’t slept since they’d last talked.

“It was Rachel,” Khun says grimly. “She was waiting. Bam couldn’t handle seeing her— the thorn took over, somehow, went berserk. He’s still unconscious. The train left without us, so we’ll have to stop it at one of the stations and get on, or maybe—“

“Take a breath,” Isu says weakly, following his own suggestion. Then, more firmly, “You can’t stop the Hell Train. It’s impossible, Khun.”

“You’re right, I can’t,” Khun says. “We’re on the outside, there’s nothing we can do.”

There’s a catch there. Isu can feel it coming, Khun’s grim satisfaction at having an answer. “But?”

“We have people on the inside, now.”

Isu frowns. “What did you do?”

“I was able to throw the White Heavenly Mirror into the train. Ehwa and Wangnan should be able to help us if we can reach them at the station on the 37th floor.”

“No.”

“What?”

Isu is a little lost, too. He hadn’t meant to say it, but he doesn’t like the idea of Khun on the Hell Train—never has, really. It’s too dangerous, even for Team Bam, and if he’s being honest, he’d felt a trickle of relief at the news that they had missed the train. He tries again, more reasonably. “You’ve already missed it,” he says. “Is it really that important? If... if Rachel’s on the Hell Train, who knows what could happen in the future? She and Bam could meet again.”

“Don’t pretend you’re worried about Bam,” Khun says sharply. “You don’t think we can make it through the Hell Train.”

“Yes, I do. I just don’t see why you have to at all.”

“Casano Beniamino—“

“This isn’t about Horyang. This is because Bam needs to do this, and you won’t tell him no.”

There’s silence. Isu runs a hand over his head, feeling the prickle of his short hair.

“So this is about Bam.”

It certainly is now. Khun is putting his life in danger for Bam and, well, anything threatening Khun’s life concerns Isu, has for a while now. “You have an obsession,” Isu snaps. “Your life has centered around Bam since you met him. It’s been years, Khun, and you still— you’re like Rachel.”

As soon as Isu says it, he regrets it. Rachel is selfish. She isn’t a devil— she is inescapably human— and she possesses the worst of all human traits. She is greedy and irresponsible and she’s broken apart all of their lives with a flick of her wrist and left them all shattered in her wake.

Khun isn’t like Rachel. He’s human too, more so than many would guess, but he’s the good kind, the kind that is loyal and caring and always there, no matter how many facades he hides behind.

He’s the kind that anyone is lucky to have care about them, and maybe the only reason Isu’s said anything at all is because he just knows, deep inside, that Khun is also the kind that will always love Bam more than anyone else.

“I’m sorry, Khun, I didn’t—“ The call has been ended. Isu sinks back onto his bed and curses.

***

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.

***

We passed the floor test today. We went out to celebrate and got ambushed by paparazzi— apparently Endorsi now has a spurned lover. She denies it, claims she only has eyes for Bam.

***

Hatz challenges you to a duel. He says if you don’t contact us, you’re dead. I think he might be missing the point a little.

***

Anaak has been suspiciously silent, I think she might even be worried.

***

I’m worried, Khun. Please call.

***

Khun calls after a month of no contact. Isu is up anyways, scrolling through posts on a message board about the Hell Train— he practically dives for his pocket, instinctually after a month of quick responses, and he knocks over the glass of water and headache medicine he’s started keeping at the side of his bed.

“Shit,” he mutters, righting the glass and surveying the damage. The water is already seeping into his blanket and down the side of the nightstand— he wipes it off best he can, hoping the cheap material won’t stain. They can’t afford to pay for damages, and none of the furniture is worth it in the first place.

“Shibisu?”

He looks at his pocket and his eyes widen. “Khun My Love” reads the display.

“Fuck. Yes. Hello.”

There are so many things he’s wanted to say. The big apology of course, but the small things too, the little day-to-day happenings that Khun has always known in the past and that have now passed him by entirely. Isu feels a little lost. He wonders if Khun feels it too, or if he even cared to know these things in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” he says lowly. “I shouldn’t have said that, about Rachel. I didn’t mean it.”

“So you said,” Khun says. It’s not an acceptance, but it’s not a rejection either. “Look, I didn’t call about that. I just...”

“What?”

Khun takes a breath. “Bam collapsed after the test on the 36th floor and then Jinsung Ha showed up. We’re on a ship heading for the station on the 37th floor now. I just didn’t know who else to call.”

Isu remains aloof, mostly out of uncertainty. What’s he supposed to say here? Why is Khun even calling? “You didn’t have to call anyone. Sounds like you guys made it.”

There’s a shuffling noise on the other end, and when Khun’s voice comes back, it’s closer. “I know. I wanted to call you. I... I haven’t heard from you guys in a while.”

“Yeah,” Isu says shortly. “You haven’t answered my calls.” He’s the one in the wrong, he knows, but he’s apologized and he can’t pretend it doesn’t hurt. A month of no contact. He hasn’t gone that long without hearing Khun’s voice in years. Probably since Khun’s “death”, actually.

“I know.”

Isu figures it’s as much as he’s going to get. He processes Khun’s words from earlier and he frowns in recognition. “Jinsung Ha? Khun, he’s dangerous. You don’t want to get mixed up with him.”

“Believe me, I know. We managed to escape. I think we’re safe for now.”

“Mmm. How do you always manage to get into this situations?”

“It’s Bam.”

Isu just nods, as if Khun can see him, letting the mention pass them by. “Yeah. Are you guys okay, then?”

“Just shaken. I heard your team got into a scrape the other day with some other regulars?”

Isu rolls his eyes at the subject change. “Yeah. Laure even got involved when one of them stepped on his blanket. It was crazy.” Then he narrows his eyes, bemused. “Wait, how did you know about that? I never texted you about it.”

“Anaak keeps me updated. She owes me for something a while back.” Khun sounds smug, the insufferable bastard.

“So that’s why she’s been so quiet recently. Traitor. When the hell did this start?”

“After you had to retake the floor test a while back,” Khun says casually. Isu smiles; the tightness in his chest, that has been there for a month, eases just a little.

“Alright, what’s your plan? Are you going to make it to the station in time?”

“Yes.”

“Is this based on a fact or on some absurd feeling of determination?”

He can practically hear Khun roll his eyes. He ignores Isu and continues. “I called Boro, they’re waiting there. It’s going to be close, but we don’t have any other choice.”

Isu can hear the tension in his voice. “I should let you go, then.” Khun hums in agreement. “Just— keep in contact.”

“I will.”

“Only if you can, of course. The Hell Train is going to be insane. I still don’t get it, but if anyone can do it, it’s you.” Isu’s said the sentiment so many times that it’s part of his own mantra now— if anyone can do it, it’s Khun. They’ll make it out alive, they’d better.

“I will call,” Khun says. “As soon as we board, I’ll let you know.” He pauses and then lets out a breath, evenly, as if letting something go. “Get some sleep, Isu.”

Isu, who’s never heard Khun express particular concern about anyone’s sleeping habits, grins. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll try. Go get on that train.”

Chapter Text

The day begins with the news of Arkraptor and Prince’s deaths; Isu is hardly surprised when it goes downhill from there.

“Bam is gone,” Khun says.

“Gone? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know. He just left.”

Isu has heard Khun read out lists of names with as much emotion, but he suspects that Khun is feeling a lot more than he’d admit to.

“He’ll be back,” Isu tries, unsure of where he stands in this. Somehow, in the hours and hours they’ve spent talking since Team Bam boarded the Hell Train, they’ve managed to avoid the topic of Bam himself. Isu does so out of self-preservation, and he supposes Khun— well, he’s not sure why Khun cares.

If it were anyone else, he would say Khun was sparing Isu’s own feelings, but that is one of the least Khun-sounding things Isu has ever heard. The most plausible reason he can think of is that Khun needs Isu’s team: maybe he doesn’t want to alienate their leader. It wouldn’t be the first time Khun had manipulated someone in order to use them later on.

(Isu knows he’s being unnecessarily harsh. He just doesn’t like thinking about it, that’s all. It’s easier if he ignores it.)

“He’s been gone for days now,” Khun says hollowly.

Suspicion sparks. “Where are you?”

“I’m waiting in his room. It’s empty.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean anything. He’s probably in the Rice Pot, right? The ‘God’ of guardians trained Jahad and the Great Warriors— who knows what kind of things he’s teaching Bam.”

“Bam didn’t even tell me when he was going or where. He might be in trouble right now and I have no idea.”

Isu, who’s heard this sort of self-directed anger and frustration from Khun before, clenches his jaw. “It’s not your responsibility where Bam goes, Khun. Just let it go. He’ll be back soon.”

“And what if he’s not?”

Isu doesn’t have an answer. Bam is a wanderer. Isu supposes he might be too, if he’d been through the shit Bam has; he doesn’t blame him for wandering or for the power that worries Khun so much. But he does blame him for the irresponsibility of letting go, making others worry as if it has no effect on him. Bam isn’t even aware of the nightmares he gives Khun, nightmares that Isu has heard again and again.

Bam doesn’t know, and that ignorance is what makes Isu so irrationally angry.

“He will be,” Isu lies. “It’s late, get back to your room. You can check tomorrow morning.”

Khun takes a breath, and for a moment Isu thinks he’s going to ignore him. Then, surprisingly enough, there’s the sound of movement. Footsteps, a door opening and closing. The sound of voices in the background as Khun walks through what Isu assumes is a hallway— there’s a called “Khun, can you—“ and then another door opens and shuts and the noise is muffled.

“Thanks, Isu,” Khun says. “You...”

“Mmm?”

“Nothing.” A pause. “We’ll be reaching the Floor of Death soon. You’d better make it, or we’ll have to leave your team behind.”

Isu scoffs. “Yeah, right. We’re beating you there for sure. Did you forget we have Endorsi?”

“But they also have you. Tends to cancel out.”

“Come on. Who’s the one that fell asleep at 7 the other night? If anyone’s slacking...”

“I wasn’t implying that you were slacking.“

Isu glares at his pocket, but he feels relieved. This is the Khun he knows: insulting. Infuriating.

(He supposes he should think of a positive adjective, but all he can settle on is Khun. He smiles, regretfully. There’s a weight in his heart that tugs it down— he sleeps uneasily.)

The next morning, for once, Isu wakes up first. He’s no longer uneasy. He’s made his choice: he takes a breath and does what he has to do.

***

Isu, what’s going on?

***

Are you okay?

***

Anaak says you won’t talk to her either. If you don’t text, I’ll have her beat you up. Believe me, she’ll enjoy it.

***

I’m going to call you. Answer it.

***

Isu gets the news from Hockney, the boy with the silver hair and strange eyes. He doesn’t believe it until he sees him.

“Khun,” he whispers. This isn’t right. Khun is supposed to be alive: narrowed blue eyes and agile hands and a clear gaze. His hands are loose at his sides in the case, and Isu wishes he could break through it and take his hands, hold him, smooth his hair behind his ear. He wants to hear Khun’s voice again, just one more time, with a startling intensity.

Rak says something about waking Khun up and Isu clenches his hands into fists at his sides.

“We want to help wake Khun up, too,” he hears himself saying, ignoring Vespa’s annoyance. He’s going to make this right (and then he’s going to find Rachel and he’s going to kill her).

Chapter Text

The little dwarf looks like he’s going to fall over and bring the hammer crashing down onto the floor any second now. Isu glances at Hatz for reassurance; Hatz nods at him.

It’ll work. It has to.

“We just have to give his heart a good, strong hit with the hammer,” Woon Yeon says. “Go for it, Little Yoon.”

Isu, who trusts neither the childish ranker nor the literal dwarf child, watches anxiously. It’s been two years. If this doesn’t work, if it doesn’t wake him up, or if he doesn’t survive, this is it. Khun will be gone forever.

Hatz, who has hated Khun on principle since he first met him, is looking sick with anticipation, arms crossed tightly. Isu clenches his jaw and waits.

The little dwarf lifts up the hammer— Isu feels the urge to lift it out of his hands in case he falls over backwards— and then the hammer is falling downwards in a controlled arc.

There’s a loud crashing noise as the hammer hits the glass. It echoes through the room and Isu watches, wanting to turn away, but too terrified to avert his eyes. It’s as if the hammer slides through the air: the glass is just shattered pieces, glistening splinters left in remnant.

The hammer hits its target, lying on Khun’s chest. Isu can suddenly see the fabric of Khun’s t-shirt, the way his eyelashes fall against his cheeks, and it’s like Khun is just sleeping now. No longer encased, no longer emanating coldness.

This is the most dangerous part, he reminds himself. It’s not over yet.

“Oh... whoops... I forgot to tell you he might have some health issues when he wakes up,” Woon Yeon says. Isu freezes. Rak’s teeth grind audibly.

“What?” Isu’s voice is louder than he means it to be, but he doesn’t care; he watches Woon Yeon with his eyes narrowed. Isu might be the least dangerous one in the room (even the dwarf child has a damn super-hammer), but he will kill this ranker or die trying if Khun suffers from his negligence.

“That’s what happened with another member of the Khun family I saved before,” Woon Yeon says. Isu imagines choking him, hands wrapped around his throat, knocking that ridiculous hat off of his head. “Thankfully, he just had a little fever and that was all. But this time, he got hit with almost the full force of my hammer, so it may even be more intense.”

“Why are you only bringing this up now?”

Hatz puts a hand on Isu’s arm.

“All we can do is wake him up,” the idiot continues. “I mean, he’ll survive, of course.” Isu wishes he had that amount of idiotic confidence. For once in his life, he wants to be sure of something.

There’s a noise. Hatz whips around and Isu follows his gaze, eyes wide: he would recognize that voice anywhere.

“Ugh, my head...”

“Khun?”

“Bl... blue turtle!!” Rak’s jaw hangs open. Isu doesn’t see a thing except for Khun, who is sitting up now, eyes open, looking around.

“Where... am I?” he asks, warily. He glances at Woon Yeon and then away, looking over Rak and Hatz, and then finally Isu. “Isu?” His voice is rough from disuse and quiet, quieter than Isu can remember Khun being, but his eyes are wide.

“Let’s get you into some warmer clothes,” Woon Yeon says, breaking the silence. “Make sure you don’t freeze over again.”

Everyone else in the room gapes at him; he laughs. “Just kidding!” They heave a sigh of relief; the idiot smiles. “That only happened once.”

***

Khun is out on the balcony, wrapped in a sweater now, one with big, vertical stripes. Isu knows already that Khun must hate it; he knows, too, that he should talk to Khun. Get this over with.

It’s just so good to have him back, though, to know that he’s safe and breathing and not frozen. And he’s not sure he can let Khun go again, ice-free or no, but he knows he’ll have to if he goes out there.

“Isu,” Hatz nudges him. “Go.”

Rak, who’s flopped down nearby with his little compressed feet out in front of him, meets Isu’s gaze and growls, “Go, tracksuit turtle.”

Isu goes. He has been christened by Rak: he has lived a full life now. (Also, Hatz has a hand behind his back, on the hilt of his sword. Isu’s not sure he wants to find out what’ll happen if he doesn’t go.)

He steps out slowly, uncertainly, and then thinks what the hell and throws his arms up.

“Hey! Khun! Are you feeling better now?”

Khun gives him the usual ‘why are you doing this’ look, but with a hint of something else.

“Isu...” He turns a little, hand on his arm as if he’s protecting himself, making himself smaller.

Isu, who has seen Khun proud and arrogant and even perched on top of a throne, wants to hurt someone (preferably Rachel).

“I’ve still got a bit of a fever, but aside from that, I’m fine,” Khun continues. His eyes aren’t meeting Isu’s.

Isu frowns. “That’s probably because of that hammer,” he says. “Woon Yeon said you might feel a bit different when you wake up.”

Rak has already updated Khun on what’s been going on; Isu heard the (incoherent, loud) gist of it from where he was standing. He supposes he should ask about it now, bring Khun back into the loop of things. Maybe answer questions about Bam. But Khun just looks so miserable: he’s looking out the window as if it has the answers to everything. His arms are folded on the low windowsill and he’s bent over, head resting on his arms.

“Welcome back,” Isu says, walking up to stand next to Khun. His hand hovers over Khun’s back, and he’s reminded of early morning, over two years ago, hovering over that “end call” button and then pressing it with all the certainty he never had. He had thought it was the right choice for both of them. Then he’d spent the next two years regretting it.

He rests his hand on Khun’s head, feeling the silkiness of the light blue hair, remembering Anaak calling him the “hair straightener prince”. Compared to the usual, his hair is in disarray now. Without thinking, Isu runs his hand through Khun’s hair, letting the strands fall back into place.

“Are you petting me?”

“Fuck you,” Isu says, blushing. He lets his hand slide out of Khun’s hair and down to his back; he’s not quite ready to let go yet. Khun turns his head from where it rests on his arms, looking directly at Isu, and makes eye contact for the first time since he woke up.

“What a mess this all is,” Khun says.

“I know. Bam’s been going through a lot.”

“Mmm.” Khun is still looking at Isu, who is vaguely aware he should look away. He’s mesmerized though, by Khun’s presence, by his warmth, the sound of his voice, the feeling of being near him. Even before all of this, he hadn’t just stood next to Khun and had this feeling of nearness for years. “Thank you, Isu,” Khun says.

“You’re welcome,” Isu says weakly. And then, “... for...”

“Waking me up, idiot.” Khun’s lips turn up ever so slightly at the corners and Isu wonders if this is what it’s like to die. The sight of Khun’s smile. Seems about right. “Rak said it had been two years.”

“Yeah. It was nothing.”

Khun arches an eyebrow.

“... did you hear I convinced Devy to hand over the hammer?”

Khun smiles again. Isu is drawn in, like a moth to flame. “Yes, I did. Did you annoy him into it?”

“Oh, come on, I—“

Khun straightens up and Isu drops his hand from Khun’s back, feeling the loss of his warmth immediately. But then Khun is putting a hand behind Isu’s neck and pulling him in, pressing their lips together. Isu puts his right hand in that silky blue hair, gasping against Khun’s mouth, and then wraps the other arm around the ridiculous striped sweater and pulls Khun closer by the waist.

Khun’s lips are still cool to the touch, but his skin is warm. Isu sighs a little and he can feel Khun laugh against him, but neither of them pull away; Isu basks in it all, feeling his heart beating wildly, exhilaratingly.

Khun breaks the kiss and pulls back, but Isu pulls him back in, not for a kiss, but for a hug. He presses Khun to him, feeling his warmth and the rapid heartbeat that matches Isu’s own.

“I’m sorry,” Isu murmurs next to Khun’s ear. “I missed you.”

“I love you,” Khun says. Casually, normally, as if it’s a fact that Khun is reading off of his pocket or an order that he is giving through a lighthouse. Isu presses his smile into Khun’s shoulder and sighs.

“Can we stay here for a moment?”

Khun kisses him again. Isu feels like he has the whole tower at his fingertips.

***

“I didn’t remember how many freckles you had,” Khun mutters, eyes flicking over Isu’s cheeks. Isu blushes a little (he’s been doing it a lot in the past few hours. He hates it, but he has a feeling Khun likes it.)

“Your hair’s short,” Isu says, which is a ridiculous thing to say with his hair situation. “For you, I mean.”

“You seem to like it,” Khun says, which is a non-answer if Isu’s ever heard one.

Isu rolls his eyes. “Duh.”

They’re silent for a moment, and it feels like falling asleep next to his pocket, hearing Khun’s breathing and the noises of their combined teams, muffled from behind their doors. It feels like coming home.

“Bam’s looking for this kid,” Isu sighs, eventually. The real world is still out there, and Isu couldn’t avoid it even if he tried. “A rugrat. One of the kids in Yama’s gang. Bam’s trying his hardest, so I’m going to do my best to help too. Are you in?”

Khun turns and raises an eyebrow at Isu. “Obviously. You couldn’t stop me if you wanted to.” Isu can feel the shit-eating grin that has taken up residence on his face; Khun must see it too, because he puts up a hand. “And let’s get one thing straight. We’re the ones letting you guys join us. Don’t get the wrong idea just because I was out of commission for a bit.” He makes his way toward the door; his back is turned, but Isu can tell already that he’s smirking.

“Arrogant punk,” Isu mutters, biting at his lip to stop the smile that is pulling insistently at the corners of his mouth. “Wait for me!”

Khun rolls his eyes, but stops before the door. When Isu catches up, he grins a little— Isu, who has seen this smile attached to the downfall of many opponents, raises an eyebrow (but still feels as if the breath has been knocked out of him, as if he’s gasping, drowning in the warmth of Khun’s smile).

“I’ll let you catch your breath,” Khun says. He grabs Isu’s hand and intertwines their fingers— the sharp blue of his eyes flash to Isu’s face, as if daring him to say something.

Isu smiles.