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“Just a little further,” Khun promises, slowing down to match Bam’s pace. He’s hardly out of breath, despite the winding road they had been hiking up for the past hour. Bam, on the other hand, had slowed down considerably and was panting hard.
Khun had woken him up early in the morning, insisting on taking him somewhere, but he'd refused to tell him where they were going. Bam knows Khun wakes up early all the time, either to exercise or to straighten his hair and maintain his looks, but Bam tends to sleep in a little more. Now that he sees it for himself, however, he realises why Khun treasures mornings so much. The air is fresh and their surroundings are quiet; while everyone is still asleep in their own rooms, the two of them are alone together in this serene and tranquil world.
Wiping his sweat off his brow, Bam hurries to catch up to Khun. He doesn’t want to trouble him any further. Khun had already done so much for him. He’d shown him around, helped strategise so they could pass their tests but most of all, he’d offered his hand and with that, his friendship and companionship. Bam hasn’t known Khun for very long, maybe a month or so, but Khun has already become an important and irreplaceable person in his life.
The corner of Khun’s lips turn up slightly and he once more offers his hand towards him. Bam looks up at him, and immediately thinks yes. He takes his hand without hesitation.
With Khun’s help, the two of them make it to the top of the cliff. The sky is a mellow blue, not yet illuminated by the sun and dark enough that they can still see faint stars twinkling above their heads. They’re so high up they can see the stretch of grass reaching across the ground, meeting the silver line of the horizon between the sky and the ground, and the treetops swaying under the warm breeze. Bam’s breath hitches. He’s never seen such a sight. Down in his cave, all he’d known was a wasteland of rocks and boulders. His only source of light had been from a tiny hole above that he tried to but could never reach.
“Rachel would love this,” he says, when he finally regains his voice. He doesn’t notice how Khun’s expression sours, nor how his shoulders tense and his hands clench.
“It’s not real. None of this is. The trees, the grass, the sky, the stars; they might look pretty, but they wouldn’t be able to satisfy her.” His voice is calm and controlled, and something seems off, but Bam can’t place his mind on it. “Besides,” he continues under his breath, “I was kind of hoping this could be our spot.”
“Sorry, what did you say?” Khun makes a noise that sounds like a fusion of coughing and clearing his throat. “Nothing. Look, the sun’s rising.”
The two of them hurry to sit at the edge of the cliff with their shoulders brushing and their legs dangling in the air. For a moment, they’re quiet in anticipation as the long-awaited sun first rises on the horizon. Bam nearly jumps up in excitement. Khun laughs and grabs his hand to steady him.
“Look! Mr. Khun, look!” he all but squeals in delight.
“Yeah, yeah,” Khun says in an absent-minded tone.
Bam is entranced by the myriad of colours present in the sky. He'd never imagined so many colours could be present on a single canvas, that something could be ignited by fiery reds and blushing pinks and royal purples all at once and he reaches his hand out to touch it, wonders what the silver mists of clouds would feel curled around his fingers and he wants to stand up in this very spot, on top of a cliff far away from the people who were still asleep in their rooms and yell out his euphoria until the world knew of his delight in experiencing firsthand of the wonders shinsu could do.
He turns to share his amazement with Khun, only to find that the blue-haired boy was already gazing at him. The sunrise bathes Khun in a rosy glow. His hair is tousled from the wind and his lips are pressed into a small smile that is not unkind. His body is angled towards him, as if he’d been looking at him the entire time. Bam looks into his blue eyes and sucks in a breath. Khun’s eyes are clear and sharp. They shine brighter than the sun yet they are mystical and refined like the moon. Most of all, those cobalt orbs are fixated on him, pinning him back to earth, gazing at him as if he is something worth studying, observing, paying attention to. Bam finds that he can’t look away either.
The sky slowly transitions from pink to blue above them as they sit frozen next to each other. Bam swallows, and he sees Khun’s eyes dart towards his throat. In a split second, he makes a bold move and reaches forward hesitantly. He gently caresses the side of his face, the press of his fingertips light as if afraid to want more, unsure of how many lines he is crossing and whether Khun would allow him to. He sees Khun tense, and immediately makes a move to retract his hand, but Khun doesn’t seem to be showing aversion to the sudden contact. Bam takes it as a sign to continue. Bam brushes his thumb over the elegant arch of his nose, slender and graceful, fit for an aristocrat. He traces circles on his cheek, fascinated at the hue of pink further accentuated by the rays of sunlight peeking through the tendrils of clouds. He tangles his fingers in the silky strands of his hair, revels in its smoothness, and finally grazes over his plush cherry lips. Khun shivers noticeably under his touch.
A lump of nerves stews in Bam’s stomach. This is uncharted territory. Somehow, the moment feels fragile and vulnerable, like he can screw it up any time if he makes the wrong move. He’s never seen Khun like this before. He knew Khun Aguero Agnes to be many things—cunning, clever, brilliant; but here, wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, he looked open, shy, unguarded; Bam sears it into memory and vows to treasure it dearly. He’s beautiful, he thinks. More beautiful than the sky. More beautiful than the stars. Caught up in the moment, his eyes flutter shut, and he leans towards him on instinct. The effect is instantaneous. There’s a sharp inhale, and Khun stands up abruptly.
“We should be heading back,” he mumbles, refusing to meet the other’s eyes.
Bam doesn’t know how long they spend on the cliff, but it’s enough for him to remember for a lifetime. When he’s freefalling, mind still whirling in confusion, frustration and hurt, wondering why Rachel had pushed him, the image of Khun’s features, warm and comforting under the pink sunrise flashes across his mind, and he yearns to see him again.
Viole, no, Bam, takes his hand and guides him up a steep, rocky path. They don’t have much time left. Tomorrow morning, they’ll have to split and go their separate ways again. It’s late afternoon and their friends are still back at the resort. Khun can’t fathom where Bam could be taking him, but his hand is warm, and even after seven years, Khun finds himself trusting in Bam wholeheartedly.
The walk up is spent in a comfortable silence. Khun sneaks a look at Bam occasionally. It still doesn’t seem real. He’d had years to grieve and mourn. He’d believed Bam was dead for so long, having him right beside him seemed too good to be true. He wonders if it was another trick the cruel gods had thought to play on him, that he would startle awake in his bed to find that it had all been wishful thinking, and the 25th Bam was lost to the world after all. What would he have done, then? Would he still be playing nice with Rachel, trying his best to fulfill the dream of a boy who’d died years ago on the Floor of Tests that he still couldn’t let go of? Climbing the tower with his team even though he’d long lost his reason to?
Khun is jolted out of his reverie by a gentle hand placed on his back. They had arrived on a cliff, not unlike the one they’d sat on on the Floor of Tests. Wordlessly, Bam sits down on the edge, and motions for Khun to follow. They’re quiet for a little more until Bam speaks.
“I plan to cut my hair,” he says, brushing his hair out of his eyes. They caught the rays of sunlight disappearing over the horizon. Khun nods, unsure of what to say.
“I thought about this a lot,” Bam continues, barely audible. “During my years in training with FUG, I thought about all of you a lot.” “But most of all, I thought about you a lot, Khun.”
It was like there was something lodged in Khun’s throat. What was he supposed to say? Same, I missed you so much, I dreamt about you so often I thought I’d never have a good night’s sleep again. And even so, he doesn’t think he could ever put the feeling of elation and relief of him being by his side once more into mere words.
“Do you remember when you took me to see the sunrise?” Bam asks, the corner of his lips turned up in a tentative smile.
“Y-Yeah. Yeah,” Khun stutters. He immediately curses himself as soon as the words are out of his mouth. Great going, you idiot.
The shinsu sky is painted a lavish orange, speckled with blinding aureate. Once more, Bam turns to cup Khun’s face in his hand, as he had done before he became a slayer candidate. Once more, Bam gently traces every inch of his skin, the curves and dips of his features, the locks of hair framing his face. Once more, Khun is a moth enslaved by the fire in his eyes, bright and determined. It’s all terribly reminiscent of that morning, except Khun knows it’s different this time. Back then, Khun had been terrified of showing vulnerability. He’d been frightened by the prospect of entrusting himself to another person entirely, and Bam himself too unsure to ask or to pursue the matter. Because of their cowardice, they’d lost seven years. Khun will never make the same mistake again. This time, he knows what he has to do.
Khun inhales deeply and leans into the touch. His eyes dart towards Bam’s lips. It seems like Bam understood, because he leans forward slightly, and both of them close their eyes, reaching for each other until their lips meet in a kiss that has long been overdue, from the early morning sunrise to the sunset of dusk.