Chapter Text
The 107th is a cityscape where the night lasts longer than the day. It’s renowned as a rest stop for Regulars, full of blinking lights and a permanent layer of smoke lingering in the air from gas-powered vehicles and cigarette smoking. Alcohol comes cheap and in more options than every other drink, and the streets are lined with casinos and expensive establishments. Each store has a TV because entertainment is currency and music is always playing from the public speakers stationed at the intersections, upbeat tunes that match the constant movement of people as they navigate their way around the city. Here, citizens sleep when the sun rises and crawl out of their beds when darkness consumes the city, the night full of promise to never share the secrets of indulgence.
The glamor reminds Khun so much of Eduan’s floor that he immediately doesn’t like it. Personal feelings aside though, the 107th floor also happens to be one of the easiest floors to pass, so he doesn’t see the point in dawdling when they can move on to more important matters. The team thinks otherwise, insisting on staying because they haven’t had time for a break in a while; the last floor test was taxing so they want a break. Khun normally wouldn’t be moved, but Bam’s staring at the city lights like they’re stars even though they aren’t, and he ends up reasoning to himself that he could use the opportunity to meet with Novick’s team for updates, because for all of its artificiality and temptations, the 107th is also known as one of the safest places to be.
“Besides,” Shibisu tells him once they’ve settled into their rooms. “It’s almost Endorsi’s birthday, and she said she wants to spend it here.”
Khun wrinkles his nose. He’ll admit, at the very least, that their hotel is nice, and they’ve scored rooms that are all adjacent to one another. Khun is sharing his room with Bam and Rak, but the two have wandered off somewhere with the rest of the team to check the hotel’s amenities and also to look for Endorsi, who disappeared while they were booking their rooms by the reception. The last they saw her, she was talking to an employee and taking out a slip of paper from a box that he presented to her. Shibisu should be with them, but instead he’s with Khun in his room, discussing their plan of action for this floor.
“We’ll stay here for a week,” Khun decides. “So everything she wants to do, it has to fit that timeframe. I don’t care what she does so long as it doesn’t interfere with the floor test.”
“You don’t know what it is?” asks Shibisu.
No, Khun doesn’t. Not when he thought they were skipping this floor entirely, so he hadn’t bothered with any research because it would’ve been a waste of time. The Administrator on the 106th floor liked them so much that they offered them a free pass to the 108th floor, and as far as Khun was concerned, they were taking it. “I’m meeting with Novick tomorrow, so I’m hoping he at least knows something. Do you?”
“Just rumors, nothing concrete yet,” Shibisu replies. “Though seeing how the city is, I wonder if it has anything to do with what Endorsi wants to do.”
Khun pauses. Something about the way Shibisu says it makes him suspicious, a bad feeling creeping upon him. “Is there something she wants to do… in specific?”
“Oh,” Shibisu says. “She wants to get married.”
The laws on the 107th floor are absurdly lax. Drug smuggling, weapon acquisition, and money laundering are common here because no one questions it. People drink and gamble and shop more than they talk. The costliest hotels are the ones solely meant for sex. Getting married apparently takes half an hour at most, and the documents would still be legal.
“Well, sort of legal; some floors recognize the union, some don’t. And of course, it’d be a shitty wedding. And not much of one in the first place,” Novick comments. “The chapel is small and they do a really quick version of wedding vows, if that’s your thing. That actually eats up more time than acquiring the marriage license itself. If your princess is serious and plans on getting married here, I doubt she’ll want something so rushed.”
Khun fiddles with the straw of his drink tiredly. There’s a pinch of alcohol in it even though he explicitly told Novick to only order him a normal soda, but it’s probably a standard around here, and the mix tastes surprisingly good. “Endorsi’s an idiot. She’s not even allowed to have a boyfriend. What makes her think she can get away with a marriage?”
Novick shrugs. “Jahad and the Great Families—even some other floors—don’t consider the marriages here as legitimate. If it’s easy to make the contract, it’s just as easy to break it. So long as the princesses don’t consummate, it’s fine. That’s what makes this a popular destination for them and other high-rollers. They even have this saying: what happens in the 107th City stays in the 107th City.”
“That’s a terrible saying.”
But Novick ignores him, turning to Ran. “Did you know that if the marriages here actually mattered, your dad would’ve had thrice as many wives as he does now?”
“Why are we on this floor, A.A.,” Ran deadpans, sullenly sitting beside Novick because he didn’t want to go with Beta, Dan, and Xia Xia to the arcade because it’s “for kids” and he’s a “mature adult”. “I don’t want to run into any more relatives. Just one is enough.”
Khun sighs. “Updates first, complaints later.”
They don’t really have much to give him—sadly nothing about Rachel or a demise that even Khun can admit they aren’t blessed enough to have, but he’s not really surprised, and he doesn’t mind. It’s not like the meeting is completely pointless, after all; they have information on the 108th floor test, and more importantly, they know what’s needed for them to pass this one.
“It’s not that they have a multitude of tests you need to pass for this floor, it’s just that they have a lot of options. So you only need to pick one because they’re only asking you to take one,” explains Novick. “None of them are actually difficult, just…”
“Troublesome,” Ran finishes. “The Administrator likes entertainment, which is why the floor is designed like this. The tests are the same way too.”
“Mostly games and challenges then,” guesses Khun as he finishes the rest of his drink.
“We got a cooking show,” Ran says, and Novick puffs up his chest in pride. They could pass the test easily then. Novick is a good cook, Beta and Dan are decent assistants, and Xia Xia could probably help them strategize a way to give them the upper hand and win. Ran can’t do much, which might be why he’s annoyed that this is their test. Khun holds back a smile. “There are others just as stupid—gambling, fashion design, auto racing.”
“Even weddings,” Novick supplies with a grin. Khun doesn’t really want to know. “Nothing happens if you lose too. You just have to take a test with a different challenge.”
It’s definitely not easy, but Khun can see why this is a floor that’s known to be easy to pass. There’s no catch to how long you stay too, as long as you can afford it. He figures that the less ambitious Regulars settle down here or somewhere close so they can visit. “Where do we go to pick?”
“When you book a place to stay, since that confirms your arrival at this floor,” says Novick. “An employee should approach you with a box that has all the options, written in slips of paper. Whatever you draw will tell you what test your team got. If you’re charming enough though, you can manipulate the employee holding the box to get the one you want.”
Khun hasn’t drank in years, so even though he only drank a little alcohol, it swims in his system and slows down how he processes things. For a moment, he’s distracted with coming up with ways as to how he can work the odds in their team’s favor for choosing a test before he suddenly remembers the last time he saw Endorsi and what Shibisu had said. “Fuck.”
“Don’t worry, I’m only spending my allotted points from the team account,” Endorsi reassures Khun, even though that’s not what he’s even concerned about.
“On the dress alone,” Shibisu interjects, eyeing the price tag attached to one of the gowns close to him nervously.
“We’re not paying for the ceremony itself since it’s part of the challenge,” she reasons. “Everything will be accounted for except for ourselves, which means clothes.”
Khun finds Endorsi and consequently, the rest of the team, in a boutique where she’s been trying on wedding dresses for the past two hours. Even though other people are there, they’ve made themselves scarce upon seeing a Princess of Jahad, so it’s their friends occupying almost all the free seats, watching Endorsi picking up clothes and trying them on as they talk amongst themselves. Only Bam and Anaak aren’t there, having disappeared into the clothing racks where most of the reasonably priced dresses are along with an employee.
The lighting here is painfully bright. Combined with all the whiteness of the walls and clothes, it hurts his eyes. Though even Khun can say that Endorsi looks dazzling in the body-hugging dress she’s chosen this time around, twirling in front of the mirror, it isn’t enough to sway him to agree with any of this. “You know that’s not the problem. Go to the employee and tell him we’re doing a different test.”
“No,” Endorsi refuses. Khun raises an eyebrow. “I don’t get what your problem is. This is one of the easiest tests we could’ve gotten! All we have to do is show up with the best-looking and most compatible couple from our team on the day itself, perform well enough for the judges to pick us as the ones who best deserve to have a grand ceremony, and then we’re out of here. You can rest since we won’t need your meticulous planning and control freak tendencies, and I get my wedding. Everyone wins.”
“It can’t be that easy.”
“Do you want more details? I’ll send you the document via Pocket.” She waves a hand. “If it helps you sleep better at night, you can come up with various strategies to sabotage all the other couples, but I have no plans on using them.”
Khun suddenly thinks that some alcohol wouldn’t be so bad right now.
“You have to admit,” Shibisu chimes in. “If this was a test that needed us to plan the wedding, it would’ve been trickier, but all we have to do is let two people from our team do most of the work. Not that I’m saying we should burden them with it,” he adds, upon seeing Khun’s glare. “We can still help, but I think the advantage of having this… wedding challenge is that we don’t have to. Endorsi is already volunteering and she knows what she’s doing. We should trust her to take care of it.”
“Thank you, Shibisu,” Endorsi says.
As much as Khun loathes to admit it, Shibisu has a point. Endorsi has the charm and popularity to get people to do what she wants, even with their lack of data on the judges’ preferences and who their competitors are, and even without using her Jahad Princess status. And based on what Novick said, it won’t damage her reputation any worse than being associated with FUG due to Bam does; many powerful figures don’t take this floor and its rules seriously.
Khun should leave this in Endorsi’s hands. Even if he doesn’t approve of her methods for doing things, she’s never actively sabotaged the team, and she’s the reason they’re even stuck in this damn floor in the first place when they could’ve skipped it. She wants to have this wedding and has manipulated all the variables to make it happen with minimal protest, so certain she’ll win this competition in the first place before it’s even begun. Confidence determines nothing—there’s no guarantee they’ll actually pass the test, but there’s no big loss to that either except a longer stay, and Khun knows Endorsi will do anything she can to make sure that doesn’t happen so she can get the monumental, memorable wedding she believes she deserves.
He doesn’t really have much reason to argue. Everyone else gets to rest, and though Khun’s never been the type to slack off, the idea of taking a break doesn’t actually sound so bad, now that he thinks about it.
“When is the challenge taking place?” he asks with a sigh, massaging his temples.
“We can choose. It happens every other day.”
“Choose a day within the week. No matter what, we’re leaving right after, so we need to pass.”
“We’ll have it a day before we leave. That should give us enough time for all the preparations,” Endorsi says.
Khun doesn’t know what preparations she’s talking about, but so long as she does most of the work, he decides he isn’t going to bother. He wouldn’t typically let things go that fast, but he also doesn’t like what she said about him having control issues, because it isn’t true. He just has plans that are difficult to execute, so he has to take matters into his own hands most of the time for them to work out. “Just let us know if you need anything.”
From the mirror’s view, he sees Endorsi grin smugly, proud to have gotten her way. Khun resists the urge to roll his eyes. She steps down from the platform, dissatisfied with the dress despite how pretty it looks on her, so she turns towards the direction of the racks, about to make her way there and pick something new. Just then, Bam and Anaak emerge, the two of them wearing matching veils the lady trailing behind them likely picked, judging by the cooing noise she makes. Khun is about to call Bam when Endorsi suddenly grabs his arm. He lets out a small noise of surprise, but lets her pull him close to her.
Then, “Oh, and Bam’s the one I’m taking.”
The next day, Rak slides a platter of food in front of Khun. “Do not fret, Blue Turtle. You may have lost the battle, but you can still win the war.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Khun says flatly, but he takes the breakfast Rak has stacked up for him. He didn’t have any plans of eating since he hadn’t even looked twice at the buffet line when they entered the floor with the dining hall, only opting for getting himself a cup of coffee, but Rak probably knew that, which was why he brought food to Khun instead. It has a little bit of everything, but Rak can eat whatever Khun doesn’t like. “Bam’s still asleep?”
“Black Turtle was floating.”
“Meditating,” Khun corrects absentmindedly. They’re seated by the window, and the night sky makes him feel drowsy even though he’s rested for eight hours. It’s longer than he usually sleeps and the standard for everyone else, but they’re all still passed out in their rooms because of the strange time zone the 107th floor operates on, and they have yet to adjust to it. Rak is an exception; no matter where they are or what they’re doing, he’ll always be out of it for ten hours, and for Bam, sleep has become more of an option than a necessity. “Even you agree Endorsi’s plan is stupid, don’t you, ‘gator?”
“I do not care for strange turtle mating rituals,” Rak scoffs. “But I like this floor. You can get a lot of food for little points. Blue Turtle should enjoy this floor too.”
“Unlikely,” Khun snorts, thoughtlessly fiddling with the small object tucked in his coat pocket as he pulls up his Lighthouse. He’s already read the document that details everything that’ll happen in the wedding challenge Endorsi and Bam will be part of, but going through it one more time can’t hurt.
There are two parts to the test: a rehearsal and the wedding itself. The rehearsal is where the judges will decide who is the best couple there, and that chosen pair will be given the privilege of having the ceremony itself, all to themselves, the people they’d like to invite, and all the powerful people in the city. There will be small contests the judges will conduct in the rehearsals to evaluate the compatibility of the couples, and though it’ll be live broadcasted for everyone to see because the point of this floor is to entertain, the mechanics behind each contest will always be different from the last one to make things interesting and unpredictable. Still, Khun has a theory that some of the mini-tests will have something to do with what goes on in the actual weddings. It’s not really a wedding challenge so much as a couple one, but it’s the prize that matters to these contestants, more than actually passing this floor.
It doesn’t even matter to these people that this wedding challenge will be different from how most wedding in this city goes—fast-paced, private affairs—because the ceremony for the winners is grand in all its publicity and desire to show off—luxurious with its big numbers, overblown vow-taking, exaggerated toasts and fancy dances. Then again, it’s probably what these people want in the first place. Big events require big celebrations.
Logically, it should’ve been Khun that Endorsi had taken—he was far more used to dealing with these kinds of crowds, knew how to sweep them off their feet in ways that could easily compliment Endorsi’s and definitely more than Bam could. But she shot it down, insisting that she would make up for Bam’s inexperience and the dynamic was unique this way.
They all know the real reason why Endorsi wants to take Bam, and they all know why Khun doesn’t like it. In the end though, Endorsi is taking Bam as Bam, not as Jyu Viole Grace, even if his FUG reputation would grant them more exposure that may work in their favor, and it’s why Khun doesn’t put up a larger fight, doesn’t set his foot down and wholly refuse her. It’s partly in apology for what went down in the Name Hunt Station all those years ago, which is the reason Khun tries to insist to himself is the only one he should care about, but more than that, it’s because if Endorsi were to ever marry someone, if she ever could, it would be Bam.
Khun doesn’t know if he’d ever really understand. He’s never had any interest in relationships that didn’t serve a higher, beneficial purpose, and it’s why he’s never taken any interest in trying to know what the fleeting possibilities this 107th floor has to offer before. It’s different now; he likes his teammates, his friends, regardless of whether they do things that work in his favor or not, but it’s still new territory for him, to care so much for people more than himself, so he doesn’t often make a show of it. He can’t be like Endorsi, who acts like she wants the whole world to know who means something special to her.
But what Khun does know is this: what it means to choose only one person over and over again—in drastic situations or the small ones, in the things that could change their lives or make them no different before, in moments that won’t actually happen but could in another world, in another life. This, at least, is something that they both understand.
Breakfast ends with Rak trotting off after finishing the remaining half of Khun’s untouched food to annoy Ehwa while Khun returns to their room. The moment he opens the door, he finds Bam slipping his shoes on, dressed to go out.
“I’m going for a run,” Bam says in lieu of a greeting, smiling at Khun. “I know you just ate, but do you want to come?”
They only do this occasionally—sometimes Khun is still asleep when Bam does his morning jogs because he stayed up too late, or they each have something else to do that they only see one another by the time lunch rolls around—but it’s always been them running with the backdrop of the rising sun, racing to see if they could get to their destinations faster than the star reaching its rightful place on the sky. It’s not too crowded in the streets of the 107th City, thankfully, so they sprint through the sidewalks and carefully avoid bumping into other people moving at their own leisure pace. Khun is a lot more used to spacious areas, but he doesn’t feel suffocated by the moving obstacles and the unexpected narrowness of pathways they dash down. He feels like he can breathe a little easier despite the smoke that surrounds them, and he trails after Bam who moves like he’s one with the wind.
After some time, they slow down to a walking pace, the air around them thinning enough for them to need to catch their breaths despite not wanting to stop completely just yet. As Khun falls to Bam’s side, Bam removes his ponytail, coming through his hair to try and tidy his hair before tying it once more. He doesn’t manage to catch some stray hairs that manage to escape, and Khun has to hold back the urge to smoothen them out and just fix Bam’s hair himself. His hair tie is the same color as Endorsi’s hair clips.
“Endorsi will kill you if she finds you fixing your hair like that before the wedding,” Khun blurts out, immediately grimacing after. The word is strange on his tongue, has his stomach tying itself in knots.
“I wouldn’t dare. She’s probably going to drag me to a salon the moment I wake up.” Bam shakes his head. “She has a whole list of things to do but only lets me in on half the plan. It’s because I’m a guy, so she said I wouldn’t understand it and she didn’t want to bore me if she could help it.”
“How very thoughtful of her,” Khun says dryly. He wonders if that’s what Bam’s been up to yesterday while he’d been with Novick, since Endorsi already decided from the beginning that Bam was going with her. Bam may be inexperienced compared to Khun and Endorsi when it comes to making small talk and winning favors, but he’s no stranger to luxury and all the fancy folk it lures in. FUG has kept him busy in more ways than one, and it’s why Khun makes it a point to put him far away from all that spotlight if he can help it during tests, even if it may not be the most logical course of action. A part of Khun still wants to intervene for this floor test, but something nags at him to wait for Bam to say the word instead of taking initiative immediately even if he knows how Bam feels and what he wants as his Lightbearer, his strategist, his best friend.
“Everything’s been really interesting so far though,” Bam continues. “So I don’t know what she’s talking about.”
“Being here feels too fake to me.”
“What do you mean?”
Khun reaches out towards one of the trees at the side of the sidewalk and thumbs what’s supposed to be a leaf. It’s light blue and glistens under the streetlight lamp attached to one of its branches, and he can tell it’s not real based on its texture, made of something like plastic. He has no doubt everything else that’s supposed to imitate nature is the same. “These aren’t actually alive. I think it’s because the air is so toxic that plants can’t thrive here.”
“So they put up fake ones so people can pretend?”
“Yeah.” Khun can’t wait to get out of here, in truth. There may be some sense of comfort in the bustling crowds and towering skyscrapers, the shimmering lights and the noise scattered around them, restlessness that stops you from being idle and always making sure you’re out there, seeking for something to do, but Khun will also glance at the faux trees and can’t ignore the stench of smoke that’s inescapable, and he’ll remember how badly he wants to leave this floor. Eduan’s floor isn’t that different, but it’s been so long since he stepped foot in that place that he’s grown to love sea breezes and the wide expanse of meadows, the simplicity of nature rather than the intricacies of infrastructures and manmade things destined to fall apart. He likes the things that just happen, that simply bloom into existence rather than things created by force, because it reminds Khun of Bam, even if so many other people say otherwise, see him as moldable being that only exists for a few purposes and nothing more.
“You hate it here,” says Bam.
Khun hums. “Do you love it?”
“I like that no one important to me is getting hurt,” he says, an answer Khun expects. “But I just want to see what makes it so appealing to Endorsi that she’d want to come here.”
“Don’t bother. It’s just for the wedding and all the traditions that go into it,” says Khun. “Playing dress up and dancing. Has she taught you any moves?”
“I know how to dance,” Bam replies petulantly, offended at the notion that Khun believes he knows nothing. It makes Khun want to laugh and say he’s sorry for assuming wrong, but he holds his tongue and simply smiles. He wonders if Bam is a terrible dancer. “Oh, but Shibisu did mention that it’s customary to celebrate with all the guys in our team before the challenge and the ceremony itself. A... bachelor party? I think that’s what he called it.”
“It’s just a guy’s night out,” Khun explains. Shibisu didn’t have any ideas, so he initially asked Khun for help, but— “Good luck to him, trying to find something to do.”
“You’re not coming with us?”
“I’ll pass.”
“Even if I’m the bachelor of the party?”
That’s exactly why, Khun doesn’t say. “It wasn’t exactly a two-way agreement. Endorsi is the one deciding everything on her own for the both of you.”
“I don’t really mind it,” Bam says. Khun gives him a look, unconvinced, but Bam just shrugs. “I really don’t. I think it’s fine if we do what she wants. And she says the marriage isn’t actually real—we’d have to go to an office afterwards if we want it legalized. Besides, it’s her birthday.”
It was Endorsi’s birthday, past tense, on their last day on the 106th floor; Khun doesn’t know why everyone talks about it like it’s still happening and just let her stretch the day to a week. In the first place, birthdays in their team have never changed anything before. “Still—” he begins, but then his hand absentmindedly tucks itself into the pocket of his coat, and he remembers there’s something he’s been keeping for a while ever since his meeting with Novick, longer than he was supposed to. “Oh, here, Bam.”
The keychain Khun gives Bam isn’t anything special, just an orb with a pair of wings, and it’s clear from the confused look on Bam’s face that he doesn’t understand anything either.
“It’s from Novick,” Khun says in explanation. “He gave it to me after we met. For something in ‘advance’.” Until now, he’s still not sure what that means, but Novick was content in his cryptic words and refused to give Khun anything more than that. “He said you’d get the reference.”
“Ah.” Bam does. “It’s an advanced gift, I think.”
“For?”
“For my birthday.” There’s an amused expression on his face now that he knows, and he stares at the keychain with a warm smile before keeping it in his back pocket. “That’s nice of him. I didn’t think he’d remember.”
Khun is suddenly hit with a wave of regret for giving Bam the keychain, but he quickly dismisses the thought just as it comes. It’s not like Novick and Bam are strangers; they spent an entire year together preparing for the Workshop Battle, and the two are friends just as Bam is friends with the members of their team, with Shibisu, Hatz, Anaak, Laure. It doesn’t make sense for Khun to feel annoyed at Novick for making Bam happy, even for just a moment.
Then Khun finally processes Bam’s words, and he frowns. “You never told me about your birthday.”
“It’s not really my birthday. I don’t actually know when that day is,” Bam admits. “But back in the Name Hunt Station, I did some catching up with Novick and the rest, and they mentioned it. When I told them I didn’t have one, they said I could just pick whatever date I wanted and use that. I didn’t have any ideas until Novick mentioned that back when he was climbing with you, you always took a day off on the 25th of December, and he said I could use that because of my name.”
“Oh.” Khun doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know if the twinge in his chest means he feels a bit worse than before. For years, December 25 was a death anniversary, not a birthday, and it was the only day within the year that Khun wouldn’t work because he spent his time mourning the loss of his best friend and reminding himself why he was doing all this—pushing his friends away, building a new team, helping Rachel—to steel his resolve.
He hasn’t thought about that date in years, not since he reunited with Bam, no longer having a reason to grieve. There’s some irony in Bam’s decision though, using a date Khun kept close to his heart but for different reasons, but Khun thinks Novick is unbelievable for bringing up something like that to Bam, and why no one thought to tell Khun about anything.
Bam nudges him, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Hey, don’t be like that.”
Khun blinks. “Like what?”
“Mopey. I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”
“I’m not. You didn’t,” Khun says, bristling. He doesn’t mope, but he feels like he’s been caught in the act of something he shouldn’t, and he wonders if his cheeks are as flushed as he feels. “I don’t feel bad. I’m just annoyed you didn’t tell me. And Novick too. He needs to remember who’s in charge here. I’m still their leader.”
Bam laughs before wrapping an arm around Khun, bringing him closer because he doesn’t like the distance between them that widened when Khun had gotten shy. For a while, they don’t say anything and continue walking, but occasionally their shoulders will brush, and it soothes Khun in its comforting presence. As much as he detests the 107th City, Bam is here, and Bam’s presence is a reminder that Khun can deal with anything so long as they’re together.
Shops begin to open as the lights by the sidewalks illuminate even brighter than before, readying themselves to accommodate the eventual influx of people who will crowd the streets, heading to their destinations to let them see well amidst the overlapping darkness of the night. The lively music starts to play, marking the start of a new day despite the faint glow of the moon still ever present past the veneer of smog. Despite the shiny diamonds displayed on storefronts and extravagant advertising plastered on billboards, nothing catches Khun’s eye, and he sighs.
“I’m shit at gift giving,” Khun finally tells Bam. He hasn’t given a present in years, and birthdays are things their team doesn’t really talk about. Endorsi bringing up hers is a first, even more so with the insistence that they do something like celebrate it.
“Do you even like giving gifts?”
“Not really,” he confesses. Presents are always impractical, most of the time, and if he plans on giving someone something practical, he doesn’t see the point of waiting until a special occasion to do it. “But do you want anything for your birthday?”
“You don’t need to start now,” Bam tells him. “It’s not like birthdays and celebrating them are a big deal, when you think about it.”
He’s right. They can die any time, so waiting for the time to celebrate life doesn’t make much sense. They should make the most out of everything they have now, especially when it’s so easy to lose it, something Khun knows all too well, but suddenly he can’t help himself. “So using that logic, I shouldn’t care about what Endorsi wants to do just because it was her birth—”
“No! That’s not what I meant, Khun!” Bam laughs. Instead of pressing the issue, Khun grins, and it stays as Bam tugs on his sleeve. “But if you still want to give me something, help me pay off the suit for the wedding. I don’t think I have enough points to afford it.”
On principle, Khun wants to say no—if Endorsi is so stubborn about the wedding, she can have it, but Khun wants no part in it—but he really does want to give Bam something, even if he’s never cared for that sort of thing before. At least clothing is a necessity and it’s something Bam will appreciate. He mentally reminds himself to figure out something else though, something a lot more special and personal. It might not even have to be something materialistic. “How expensive is it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t tried anything out yet,” Bam says. “Can you help me out with that too?”
“I’ll have to if I’m paying for a part of it,” points out Khun. “I’m not wasting my points on you so you can put on something hideous.”
“I didn’t think I was that bad,” Bam says sullenly, and when his lips curve downwards into a small pout, Khun has the sudden urge to kiss him to wipe that look away, to make him a little less upset. He pushes it down, far too used to these impulses, and only grins broadly at Bam.
Before Bam drags him inside one of the shops that might have what they’re looking for, Khun discreetly pulls up his Pocket to send off a quick message to Shibisu.
It’s easy for Shibisu and Khun to establish that the bachelor party can also double as a birthday celebration for Bam, especially since he’ll be the center of attention either way, but that doesn’t really give them any ideas of what they can possibly do on the night (day) itself. The first thing they do when they get the chance to meet up after Bam’s finished shopping with Khun to join Endorsi for “wedding” things—as if it’s already a given they’ll win the competition—is roam the streets for inspiration.
But even as they explore around the city and research popular sights, they come up empty-handed. Bam’s fascination with the 107th floor mostly comes from it being a new place, not because it has something that particularly interests him, and they have to steer clear of places where criminal activity is rampant in case someone tries to stir up trouble, eliminating more options than they can afford. They resort to asking locals for suggestions, and most of them have the same answers that Shibisu says, at the end of it, “We should just do them all.”
“Paintball, concert, then a burlesque show?” Khun lists off doubtfully.
“They have specific packages for these things. All we have to do is purchase one and give some details, and the company handles all the logistics,” Shibisu points out. “It’s the best we can get at this short notice, given that this is tomorrow, and it’s not like we have any better ideas. If we do it ourselves, we might screw something up since we aren’t that familiar with this floor.”
“I know.”
“But?” Shibisu prods.
Khun huffs. “Paintball—it might be too violent.”
Shibisu snorts. “Khun, it’s a game.”
“It’s a game that simulates a fight, and we’ve never seen Bam not take a fight seriously,” Khun says. Shibisu still looks reluctant even if he knows Khun has a point, so Khun decides to move on. “A concert is stupid; there’s nothing to do but stand around and listen. And what if the performers in the burlesque show freak him out?”
“I don’t think Bam is inexperienced, given that he—”
“Spent so many years in FUG?”
Shibisu pauses. “...Given that he’s with you?”
Khun’s eyebrows knit together. “That has nothing to do with anything.” Realizing how that comes off, he adds, “Besides, we’re not.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” he says slowly. “Did we ever…?”
“Wasn’t that why you yelled at Endorsi in the shop for two hours before giving up and sticking with the silent treatment? I doubt you would’ve reacted the same way if she said she was taking Hatz or Laure,” Shibisu says. “She’s still waiting for you to change the password for our shared bank account back to the original one, by the way. She can’t buy the dress if she can’t access any of her points.”
“It’ll automatically return tomorrow. She just has to be patient,” Khun says, waving a hand. It’s not like Shibisu is wrong; if it was anyone else, Khun wouldn’t have cared, but of course it’s different when it comes to Bam. It’s not fair to him, when he always goes along with his friends' schemes even if it’s not the best thing for him, when he isn’t very good at taking care of himself, so he needs someone to stand up for him. There are still things solely and selfishly for him though—he’s no longer wholly dependent on others’ whims and wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that he does things for others even at his own expense. And it’s not like he makes it easy for others to help him, so this is why Khun worries and why he won’t always approve, even if it somehow works in the end, and even if objectively, he doesn’t actually need to shelter Bam from anything.
Everyone knows that, and they also know it’s not why Khun had been so annoyed at Endorsi. But that doesn’t mean Khun is going to admit the reason aloud just because everyone is aware of it. It’s one thing to think about it, another thing to say it. He doesn’t even consider the idea of doing something about it. It’s easier to frame it as something else, something expected of him, that’s just as much of the truth even as it isn’t.
“I’m his Lightbearer. I know what’s best for him,” Khun settles with. “And I’m just being realistic with what could possibly happen. We need contingency plans.”
“You’re our Lightbearer,” Shibisu corrects pointedly. Khun is unmoved though, so he sighs. “If you told this to Hatz, he’d punch you for being such a killjoy.”
Khun rolls his eyes. “I’d like to see him try.”
“Look,” Shibisu says, rubbing his chin. “I get that you’re concerned, and it’s good, since Bam is the priority here because it is his party and the first time we’ll be celebrating his birthday. But how will we know what he does and doesn’t like if we never try it? You need to trust him to say what he wants when he wants it, Khun. You don’t always have to make decisions for him before anything even happens.” For some reason, it doesn’t sound like they’re only talking about the party. “We’ll bail if he protests, but it’s not like he’s ever been picky about these things to begin with.” He shrugs. “That’s always been you.”
“No, it isn’t.” For one, Khun has nothing against burlesque; he just doesn’t see the appeal of public nudity.
“It is,” says Shibisu. “So unless you’re saying that you know what’s best for Bam as his boyfriend, which is another thing…”
In the end, Khun makes the backup plans himself.
It’s not like he has anything to really lose if he fails, so the stakes aren’t high. But Khun does want to make the day enjoyable for Bam, and he figures that the best way to do that is to spend the hours before the party doing things he actually wants rather than what’s already been decided. Even if the bachelor party and the birthday celebration, combined or separated, are for Bam, in the end, it’s really for everyone. Anything before that, at the very least, can just be for him.
On the fourth day of their stay on the 107th floor, the day they’ll be hosting the bachelor party, Khun goes jogging with Bam right after breakfast once more before whisking him away for the time they’ll have to themselves before drowning in the paintball wars, the concert songs, the burlesque shows. He does this alone, insisting that none of their friends try to accompany or even stalk them. For one, it’s not a date, so they don’t need to be creepy; for another, Khun doesn’t want them involved because they might just mess things up and pressure Bam to do what they want rather than what he wants, defeating the entire plan. It’s not a date. Khun isn’t delusional.
Today, Bam has no interest in the stores and what they have to offer, so they zip past most shops to pay attention to other things. Most of what catches their eyes are impulsive, and Khun is so unused to the idea of not having a detail-filled, concrete plan, to simply doing things in the moment, that he can do nothing but blindly let Bam drag him away, fingers loosely wrapped around Khun’s wrist, comforting but still leaving him wanting more—for Bam to shift his grip lower, maybe, for their fingers to entwine.
He says nothing. Khun isn’t here to ask for more than what’s given.
They stop by an ice cream truck and get two cups; all flavors have a tinge of alcohol in them, unsurprisingly, but the percentage isn’t a lot. Khun finds it funny when Bam makes a face at the taste even if Khun himself can barely taste it, even more so when Bam finishes his faster despite saying that it tastes strange. Afterwards, they notice a small crowd gathered at the middle of the sidewalk because of an informal arm wrestling contest going on, and people have yet to beat the burly man winning every match by a landslide. Bam and Khun sneak into the front and quietly debate what would be the most creative way to beat someone in a challenge like that if they’d be going against someone they know without solely using brute force.
“I’d want to go against Rak. He’s the easiest,” says Bam. “He’ll get distracted if you wave bananas over him.”
“In his original form, his hand is the size of your head,” Khun points out, but he doesn’t tell Bam he’s wrong. It could happen. “But his brain is probably the size of your hand, so at least it’s balanced that way.”
Bam grins. “Who would you want to go against?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Hatz. I’d like to see the look on his face if I froze his hand,” Khun considers. “I definitely wouldn’t want to go against Ran though.”
“Because he’d zap you to win?”
“Because I’d win, and then he’d zap me because he wouldn’t be able to accept his loss.”
“That’s probably a Khun thing,” Bam says with a laugh. “How about Master then? He works under the category of people we know.”
“Trick question, Bam. I’d never put myself in a situation where I’d ever have to arm wrestle one of the most terrifying Rankers in history.”
Bam hums. “What are the odds that he’s a Ranker?” He nods to the man on the table, defeating his opponents swiftly as the minutes go by. They’re paying him fifty points for a match, and whoever wins gets all the accumulated money. Khun wonders how many points he has now.
“Seems like a waste of time for a Ranker to do this.”
“But if you think about Yuri—”
“Hey,” someone interrupts. They glance up to see the burly man’s money collector. “If you two aren’t interested in competing, go to the back like everyone else who doesn’t have a shot.”
Bam and Khun exchange looks. Khun doesn’t actually know what Bam’s thinking of doing, but Khun knows what he’s going to do. Before Khun can even open his mouth though, Bam abruptly cuts in with, “I’ll do it.”
Khun raises an eyebrow as Bam transfers his points to the man.
“What?” says Bam. “We’d probably get in trouble if you encased him in ice.”
“I’m not that petty.”
“What if he talks like Hansung?”
Khun purses his lips. “For what it’s worth, he deserves to be set on fire more than anything.”
The money collector turns to him as Bam walks towards the burly man. “You’re not going to participate?”
“What for?” Khun asks.
“Revenge. He’s a tiny kid. His hand might get crushed if he isn’t careful.”
Khun tilts his head. “Is your guy’s strength reinforced by shinsu or purely physical training?”
“Shinsu, of course,” he answers. “You can’t beat a hundred people of different shapes and sizes from working out alone.”
“Then I don’t need to do anything.”
The money collector’s eyebrows knit together as he frowns. “What do you mean—”
A startled yelp coming from the table cuts their conversation short, and they turn to see the burly man clutching his hand painfully while Bam is awkwardly comforting him. Around them, the crowd whispers to themselves about the unexpected outcome: a young man easily swinging the burly man’s hand down without even sparing a second. The money collector is so shocked at the result that he doesn’t put up a fight when Bam goes to get his owed points, something he isn’t really interested in getting until Khun insists.
“We can use this as pocket change for the party later,” Khun reasons as they walk away. He didn’t even do anything, but he probably feels more proud about Bam winning than Bam even is. “So how was it?”
“It was a bit like wrestling with Endorsi.”
“I thought she said she was ‘above’ doing that sort of thing.”
“More like no one is ‘worthy’ enough to hold her hand.” Except for Bam, of course, which is exactly why he’s the one Endorsi is getting married to. Wisely, Khun decides not to pursue that train of thought. Bam opens and closes his fist experimentally. “That guy’s hand was clammy though, so now I feel a bit gross.”
Khun summons his Lighthouse and takes out a packet of wet wipes. “Here, you can use this.”
Bam takes one with a quiet thanks and wipes his hand. Khun reaches out when he’s finished, about to throw it away, but Bam stops him. “I’ll do a magic trick and make it disappear.”
Even though Khun gives him a funny look, he lets Bam do what he wants. He watches Bam crumple the wet wipe into a small ball and enclose it in his fist. He raises it to Khun’s face and says, “Blow.”
“This is stupid,” Khun tells him, but plays along because the excited look on Bam’s face is endearing, and he blows into Bam’s hand softly.
Bam pulls his hand back to press his knuckles to his lips. When he makes a blowing sound, he unravels his hand, and nothing comes out. Khun wrinkles his nose when Bam shows him his empty hand proudly. “Nice try, but you burnt it. There’s a smell.”
With a pout, Bam lowers his hand. “Shibisu completely bought it.”
Khun can’t help but laugh, and he elbows Bam gently to ease the dejected look on his face. “It’s neat though,” he offers. “Did Ehwa teach that to you?”
“Yeah, though Wangnan says I do it better than her,” he says. “Well, at least you didn’t smack me for it. Endorsi said it was too corny.”
That’s not entirely surprising, but knowing Endorsi, she was probably blushing when it happened too. It’s in the subtle things that show the relationship between two people best, so maybe Bam should perform a trick like that for Endorsi to react during the test so the judges can see how they are around one another. Khun wonders if they’ll find the two sweet, if they’ll look at this unlikely match and think they’re meant to be. The thought makes Khun feel annoyed, then exhausted by his own tide of emotions, and it’s not worth mentioning to Bam because it’s not his problem in the first place.
“Oh, an arcade,” Bam says, pointing to one across the street. Its neon lights are much more distinct and flashy, and the noise coming from the inside can be heard from even those from a distance—the creative sound effects from machines and the whoops of joy from the people inside mixing in with the indignant shouts. “Endorsi and Anaak mentioned they’d be there. Maybe we should stop by. They said it’d be fun.”
“Maybe some other time,” Khun replies quickly, already pulling Bam away and turning him in another direction. “It’s likely crowded at this time in the day and Endorsi has you all to herself for most of the time anyway. C’mon.”
Bam doesn’t put up a fight, but he does keep quiet, letting Khun lead them away. For a few minutes, there’s nothing between them but silence, almost oppressive, and Khun is suddenly hit with the realization of what he’s doing. He lets Bam go. Khun took Bam out today to do things he wants. If he wants to spend it with friends, even if he’s going to see most of them later, what right does Khun have to stop him? It goes against why he did this in the first place.
“Sorry,” he apologizes, turning to Bam. “If you still want, we can go back—”
“Is this because you’re jealous?” Bam blurts out. Khun freezes. “Is that why you’re trying to make sure it’ll just be us two together for the entire day until the party later? I’m not blind. I noticed you were making sure we didn’t go near places the others might be in even before.”
“You make it sound worse than it actually is,” says Khun, but he wants to look down, embarrassed at himself. “They’re rowdy. I just thought you’d want something more at your pace.”
“I don’t think too hard about it,” says Bam, and he doesn’t sound mad, thankfully. “But thank you.”
“No problem.”
He thinks that’s the end of the conversation, but then Bam interjects, “You don’t need to feel jealous. Even if we do win, the marriage doesn’t actually count. And I don’t like her in that way. I’m just… doing it because she said it’ll make her happy.”
Khun knows, and he can never resent Bam for that. “I’m not jealous,” he says. Bam raises an eyebrow. The laugh Khun lets out is humorless, exasperated and maybe somewhat resigned. “Jealousy is for people who have something that belongs to them that they’re afraid to lose.”
“And you don’t?”
“You don’t belong to anyone, Bam,” Khun replies. From the corner of his eye, he suddenly catches the display case of a jewelry store, where an assortment of gleaming rings are lined up. The gold ones glint under the lights, standing out from the rest as the prettiest, the most eye-catching, and it looks like the perfect rings for Bam and Endorsi to exchange with the eyes they share and the brilliance they were destined for. But Khun’s gaze lingers the longest on the plain bronze ring, the one that makes him think of Bam’s hair, simplicity that makes him feel warm all over. “Much less me.”
“Is it really such a big deal?” Bam says quietly. “Belonging to people. Isn’t it enough to just be with them?”
Khun doesn’t answer because he doesn't know. All he does is pull his eyes away from the ring.