Chapter Text
To Lesion, Vigil was almost invisible. As someone who worked by travelling around the world, Lesion could definitely say he was more adept at adapting into different working environments. From Indonesia to Macau, and along with SAS and CBRN. He could track back to the demolition works and the junkyard diving back then, but they all involved working with other human beings. He didn’t find it too difficult to settle in Rainbow, especially when Smoke and Thatcher were here to extend their welcome.
Vigil came to Rainbow a few months after. Alert, wary and tense. No one really dared to be close to him, and if Dokkaebi wasn’t acting as a rambunctious bridge between them, Lesion wouldn’t have spoken to the quiet man throughout their years in this foreign land. That’s when he finally saw the full extent of the man named Chul Kyung.
It remained as a vague memory, but Lesion had the impression that Vigil was struggling. The man bore an image of an undisturbed lake, still and clear on the surface but no one really knew what lay beneath. He could guess the glimpse of it one night, well past bewitching hours. Although most of the operators didn’t have to write reports and other paperwork, Lesion often stayed in the office to write out his expertise on biohazards and buried explosives. There were some other operators who appeared sickly against the pale computer screens. Some looked tired, some were on the verge of pulling their hair. And judging by Vigil’s expressions, the man would have gone bald hours ago.
They were friendly acquaintances by then, so Lesion leaned over and whispered. “Hey.”
At first Vigil didn’t respond as he was completely engulfed in whatever that was causing him the stress. A few more tries from Lesion’s end finally got him peering away from the screen, and boy, if a leer could kill. “Yeah?” Vigil replied softly, far less aggressive than Lesion expected.
He didn’t have to say much other than a flicker of hand. A pair of footsteps tiptoed out of the office and carried over along the corridor. Silence still set heavy at the cafeteria, but thankfully there wasn’t anybody for them to disturb. Lesion poured some water to boil it in a kettle and looked into the cupboard for a huge container of instant coffee for everybody at Rainbow. For him, three spoonfuls in a mug with some milk was enough without any sugar. “Would you like one?” Lesion brought another mug out on the counter.
Vigil definitely needed some caffeinated encouragement, or else the bags under his eyes would overtake whatever little resolve that remained within him. “I’m fine.” Apparently the innate introversion came foremost than bodily exhaustion.
Lesion was having none of that. “I mean, if you’re going to bed soon, sure. But I doubt it.” He pulled out a carton of milk and a jar of sugar. “Do you want me to make you one as well?”
“I-” Vigil had his body resting against the counter and he didn’t seem to be eager to move away from it. A few seconds to ponder, then as Lesion moved away to bring the kettle over, he grabbed a teaspoon to brew his own blend. “I can make it myself, thanks.” One, two, three, four. The clinks stopped at the fifth as the lid shut tight before he could make it any sweeter.
Lesion poured and stirred his own hot, mild and sugarless brew. He stared at the darkness beyond the windows while waiting for Vigil to join him with his own warm mug. “You’d think we don’t have to worry about bad postures and keyboards, but it looks like we aren’t too far off from being stuck at desks than other salarymen.”
The response wasn’t immediate, but Vigil made sure that Lesion’s words didn’t go unnoticed. “Yeah.”
“I mean, who knew I had to write my whole biography on dealing with mines as a scrawny junkrat? Not me, but they want to know how I did it when I was ten. It’s kind of hard to track back and be descriptive about how I did them. I gotta try, though, because Harry seems to think it’ll help us to sniff out any future threats.” It sounded downright absurd, but Pandey was beyond enthusiastic in dissecting Lesion’s childhood to bits. He didn’t have any good reason to deny the extra work, and it certainly helped him retract the long lost memories and traumas.
“Mm.” Vigil took a sip and mused. “I am sure they will use it accordingly. It may serve a purpose.”
“How about you? What’s keeping you up past your bedtime?” Lesion wanted to know what purpose Vigil held at this late hour.
“My bedtime?” It wasn’t quite a chuckle, but a short breath of sigh that’s akin to it. “I’m years too late to care about that.”
“Beats me. You are the human alarm clock around here.” Lesion remembered the usual time frame when Vigil left their table after dinner. Straight at ten, and bright and early right on six. “I don’t really see you the type to be up past midnight. Or having short naps in between our mock missions when the sun’s still up.”
“Oh.” Vigil turned away from Lesion for a moment and faced the window. “Well, sometimes I’ve got things to do. Don’t worry about it.”
“Right.” Lesion was nearly half done with his mug and he could go on for about three more hours max. He couldn’t say the same for the man next to him, who was obviously stuck without any progress. “What’re you working on, if I may ask?”
“It’s personal,” Vigil downed his drink, which meant he poured more cold milk than hot water, “but let’s just say it has to do with our colleague.”
“So it is true.” Lesion heard from the target of trouble herself on multiple occasions, that Vigil was sent to spy on her. “You’re actually writing something about Grace and sending it to your home base.”
For a man who had secrecy as his main task, Vigil was painfully open and easy to read without any physical mask on. Perhaps this was why he preferred to be a lone wolf, but he let himself become accustomed to Dokkaebi’s love for socialising. The very act of being involved for the sake of surveillance eventually made him susceptible to a rapport he didn’t mean to build. “You’re making it sound like I’m conspiring against her.”
“Okay. I can guess things.” Lesion let out a chuckle. “I’m just saying my opinions out loud. It’s not like you’re telling me anything in great detail, so you’re more than welcome to denounce them.”
Vigil still had his eyes fixated at the unfathomably bleak and sunless sight. “I should make it clear that I’m not reporting anything to SMB. But I do need to reply to what they’re asking about her.” He had the cup as a means to cover, but the ghosting grimace was indistinguishable from a grin. “It’s not like I’m here for the sole purpose to keep my comrade in line. I actually have my own career to build.”
“And yet,” Lesion tasted the sour note that came after the bitterness, “they are making you spend a healthy amount of energy on judging what she does. Surely they didn’t send you here to be a baby sitter.”
“No, they didn’t.” One hand couldn’t hide his whole face, but Vigil managed to massage the areas that were stiff and dry. “It’s my personal decision to choose appropriate wordings so they will stop me from doing so. Not so professional, maybe, but it’s needed.”
“Hm.” Lesion had to admit that his general impression on Vigil revolved around obedience. Of course, the man must have had some autonomy to be where he was, but he seemed to be a model soldier who knelt beneath the superiors. Instead of being a tattletale, maybe he was really looking after Dokkaebi as an older brother figure. “She has been good, so far.”
“Good enough, but we know she brews troubles.” The sigh was longer, heavier. “It’s really not my job to justify her stay here.”
“It’s not.” Rather than asking questions, Lesion shared what he observed so far. “But you’re making it sound like it is.”
“Because we have reputations to uphold.”
It wasn't a matter of a group effort. Lesion could see what Vigil was trying to project here, but private personalities aren’t too fond of people overstepping their lines. “Then we will prevent her from acting up.”
“Who’s we?”
“You and I.” Convincing Vigil to relax about making reports on Dokkaebi wasn’t going to work. Suggesting him to have less things to write about her had a better ring to it. “And everyone else. She’s the one who brought all of us together, and I know what this group means to her. It may be hard to believe, but I can see her trying to spend her energy on something good.”
“I don’t know about that.” Vigil clicks his tongue. “That’s not too convincing when she gets too wild for her own good.”
Those nights when he saw Vigil dragging the woman off the ground. Lesion had been busy with Ying who also got shit-faced, given how Echo was also there at their small gatherings on weekend nights. Since then, she stopped joining them for a while, claiming that she needed some time to cool down. Quite convenient for him, suitable for other sober minds to tend those who chose to be intoxicated. “We will just take bottles off her next time.”
It was a brief moment, but Vigil’s shoulders loosened from being so tense. “That’d be nice.”
“And don’t worry too much about her.” Lesion gave the other man a nudge. “She may act playful, but she doesn’t play around. You saw how Masaru choked on his spit when she hacked into his phone.”
The two technophiles had been in competition on cybersecurity, but Dokkaebi seemed to have gained upper hand recently. The defenders could hear some Japanese profanities when Yokai dropped from the ceiling and frantic taps on the corner where Echo hid behind the deployable shield. Friendly rivalry made some progress from her end.
“I suppose.” Vigil stayed on the spot, fully accepting the gesture he would otherwise reject. He offered to take Lesion’s empty mug to put in the sink for a quick wash. “Maybe I don’t have to stay up too long tonight.”
“Yeah. Go to sleep.” Lesion gathered the jars and alike to put them back in their places. “Don’t do overtime. You’re doing fine. Work smart, not hard.”
After laying wet cups upside down on the rack, Vigil dried his hand and asked. “How about you? Have you got much to do?”
“Not really.” Partially true. He still had bits to write, but his mind wandered away from having a model work ethics. “I suppose that coffee won’t do any good for me other than staying awake, feeling bored.”
They took a stroll back to the office, but Vigil slowed his pace before they opened the door. “Now that I think about it, you’re part of my team for tomorrow’s mock mission.”
“Mm-hm.” Lesion kept his hands in his pocket, looking for a phone to check the time.
“If you’re still awake for the next hour,” Vigil pursed his lips, “I need to ask about where you’d place those mines at Villa. It’d be nice to have them where I can flank the attackers.”
That was an excuse to keep their waking hours at least productive, but it was a pleasant surprise to hear it from Vigil, who would run out of the site to defend the moment he was ready to roll. Not that Lesion had any complaints; he always welcomed teammates in need. Acquaintances of likewise temperaments, and friends who put their trust in him as he puts his on them.
From then on, Lesion was found to be in Vigil’s company. At times he seeked out for Vigil, but mostly the man came to him during their free time. Vigil wasn’t as mute or stoic as people made him out to be, but upon speculating, Lesion learned that Vigil spared his energy for those who he needed to make an effort with. Great amounts with Dokkaebi, some with Echo and other defenders. And with Lesion, Vigil came calm and undisturbed, as there was nothing difficult or worth exertion between them. Lesion heard the topics that Vigil had been bottling within, ranging from complaints to trivial matters like how far he ran this morning. The conversations took place in Lesion’s living room, next to his kitchen where he stored a variety of tea leaves. A resting nest, somewhere Vigil began to coop and hide away from the world when it took everything out of him. Lesion technically allowed this to happen by showing him where he hid the spare key, so it was comfortably amusing to see his offer taken without any second guessing.
It was one of many other evenings. Lesion came back from his daily duties, walked into his apartment and saw a lone figure lying stretched out on the couch. The odd knots in Lesion’s stomach came back when he gently dropped a blanket over the sleeping man. There were butterflies that had been fluttering over the turmoil he harboured, all because he and Vigil were friends and nothing else should change that. Not even those moments when he and Vigil were the designated drivers for their drunken friends. Not when they spent the whole night playing cards with the same group and shared sneaky cheat cards to end the game early. He couldn’t count those early mornings in their transportation units, when he woke up finding his head resting on Vigil’s shoulder. Guilt came first when the man stayed frozen like a statue as if he was doing his absolute best to not break the peace, but Lesion let it slide to tease him later.
Lesion was old enough to know some familiarities may take special place in his heart, but they were fleeting emotions to not hold onto. That was the nature of their job. It was the wisdom he was forced to learn after seeing untimely deaths of those close to him. The temptation to touch Vigil on the crease of his brow made Lesion realise that he had been playing children’s games. He let this man stay close for far too long, likewise vice versa. Vigil had come to rely on Lesion. Clear as crystal without the stony façade. It was great pleasure knowing the so-called ghost of a man was in fact a human who wanted to be understood. A lonely individual who didn’t want the public to know his struggles. Lesion became his confidant under the pretence of friendship over the course of three years, so imagine the consequences if he expressed a yearning for something more.
Drowning in these thoughts rendered him blind from noticing Vigil staring back. While it mattered to know for how long his friend was watching him in such a state, he wondered how much those eyes could read into his doubts.
“Hey.” Dry and still heavy with slumber. Vigil took a quick look at the blanket and sighed. “What time is it?”
“Two in the morning.” Lesion turned on the nearby lamp and sat in front of it. Not so bright for Vigil, and conveniently shadowing his face away from revealing too much.
“Already?” Vigil yawned as he shifted deeper into the cushions. “Sorry. I will head back.”
There was no issue of having Vigil stay here. It had been quite fine to see the man stay overnight and share a breakfast with warm rice and other condiments, but was it still fine to continue like this? “You can stay.” The more complicated he made it to be, the more of a hassle it became. Vigil really didn’t change how he treated Lesion, so it was out of place for him to act any differently. “Fried egg, tomorrow?”
"No need to bother-"
"It's okay, I said. Sunny side up?" They used to have this tango where Vigil was overly polite and Lesion insisted on being a generous host. Since this was his home, Lesion came out victorious almost always.
“Yes please.” Cosy and snug. Vigil dosed back into slumber, muttering gratitude and alike before he completely became defenceless. As if he made here his home.
“Good night.” Lesion clicked out the light and stumbled to find the way back to bed, while musing on giving his guest two eggs instead of one. Then the bias was awfully obvious there, so he chose to fry four to share evenly between them. He merely had to keep it simple without putting any meanings behind them.
Times went by, thankfully uneventful. They made steady scores as a well-composed team, hung out on occasions and met at other professional settings. Lesion stepped back to let Vigil mingle with other people, for he shouldn’t be the only one for him to break out of the shell. This was part of being a good friend. Good had a better ring than the best, as the sentiment had less expectation to fill. Less to disappoint. Vigil still came by to rest at Lesion’s place and they spent time like they normally did. Whenever the feelings became unbearable, he kept the balance and peace by spending his nights elsewhere. He had it under control, he could laugh it off and see Vigil at work like nothing happened. Judging by the furniture, Vigil also began to make fewer visits when he saw the home empty.
Time has caught up to the present. Christmas is here for people to enjoy and revel at another year they have survived. Here he is, swaying side to side with valued colleagues and friends who have every right to rejoice the fruits of their service. Lesion has been sober for some hours, and that is his duty as the favoured designated driver for those under his care. Come to think of it, the other driver is nowhere to be seen. Wondering if Dokkaebi and other boisterous operators are holding him hostage, Lesion ventures around the venue to find the poor soul.
Bumping and squeezing past people dulls his senses, so it has taken him moments before noticing taps against his back. “Liu.” Someone calls out for him behind. Lesion scans around to find Mute, whose patience appears to be past his limit. “I’ve been looking for you. Chul Kyung said-”
“Oh?” It’s some relief to hear Vigil’s name from someone who is like-minded. “Lad! I suppose you aren’t really enjoying this party, aye?”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Mute’s demeanour is self-explanatory. “I wouldn’t be here if it’s not for him, but look.” He beckons Lesion to follow, escape from the hot and humid walls of humans and find a space with some fresher air. “He asked me for a favour, okay? Apparently he's got something urgent to take care of, so you’re off duty from being a sober driver. Kateb and I will take care of that.”
“What?” This arrangement wasn’t what he and Vigil discussed before their group drove into this party. “Wait, is he gone already?”
“Yeah, he just walked out seconds ago.” Exasperation is off the roof with this young man. “So cruise around. Have a few drinks and do whatever until we pick you all up. I need to let him know that I’ve told you, or else he won’t stop calling me.”
When Mute waves his lit phone, Lesion catches the shapes of a name written in Korean. He leaves behind a rather agitated conversation and weaves around the crowd to find the entrance. With one heave of a push, the doors swing open and sudden chill sweeps the heat off of his face. There stands Vigil next to the car, with a phone in his ear while profusely nodding until he sees Lesion walking towards him.
“Okay, yeah. I owe you- yes, okay. Thanks.” Vigil hangs up just as Lesion has approached within earshot.
“Hey, Mark told me about a change of plan.” Lesion keeps his tone chipper, but he’s still confused and in need of answers. “What’s going on?”
“Well, it’s not really a change but,” Vigil swipes down the veil of snow from the windscreen, “I’ve been meaning to spend this Christmas alone at home, until-”
“Until Grace got us here at a pub along with the entire base. Typical.” It wasn’t entirely Dokkaebi’s idea. Harry chipped in and Thermite convinced Ash that having a massive party is a must for Rainbow’s seventh anniversary, along with the birth of four specialised squads. What luck they had being in the same team under the name ‘Ghosteye,’ but it was to be expected as their lines of expertise are quite similar.
“Yeah. I didn’t feel like entertaining her this year. Not for me.” It has been a miracle that Vigil tolerated her shenanigans for years.
“I got you.” He’s still yet to hear the real reason behind leaving so prematurely. Leaving him behind. “But why didn’t you tell her in the first place? Surely you could have told her no.”
“Trace and others made efforts to host this,” Vigil takes a glance at the black sky before putting his focus back on Lesion, “so I came to pay my due and leave.”
“You could have told me.” Lesion awaits. Their breaths dissipate in smoky white, people’s muted laughters are heard from distant, and shadows on slushed pavements bear a foggy palette under the orange lamplights. Winter night is cruel to those who stay still out here, unless they get a move on and fight against the chill.
“You seemed busy.”
Lesion blinks as he takes time to process. “Oh.”
“Yeah.” Vigil shrugs back. There is a squick beneath his foot as he shakes off the flakes off his sole.
When it comes to parties, Lesion can do with or without, depending who his companies are. He was hoping that Vigil would find one for himself throughout the night instead of giving up like this. “There’s Jenson and others. You’re friends with him, right? We can go back and-”
“Tze Long.” Vigil interrupts; stern and unsettled. “They are good men, but-” He lets out a long stream of steam and casts his gaze low, “I guess I’m just tired.”
It’s all about the energy he’s willing to spend. Lesion knew of this, he always has, but the fact that Vigil found solace in their interactions, the importance of their dynamics puts him on a pedestal. A stepping stone for him to reach for a hope, that there can be more between them, when he isn’t even sure whether their feelings are on a mutual level.
“Please. Go back and enjoy.” Vigil unlocks the door, clearly lacking composure to continue their conversation. “I’ll see you around.”
Lesion has been running away. Shunning the elephant in the room, the anxiety that may be trivial but blown out of proportion in his head. This may be now or never, and he cannot lose this chance by using cautious wisdom as an excuse to his lack of courage. It doesn’t have to be tonight or anytime soon, but if he sends Vigil away like this, whatever they have won’t be the same. “Wait.”
“Yeah?” Vigil stops from climbing into the seat. There is a glimmer on him, which is by far the most lively expression showing on his face tonight.
“I’ve had enough beer for tonight.” With the lightest steps, Lesion walks around to open the door from the other side. “Let’s go for something sweet.”
“But what about the party-” Incredulous he may seem, but there is a hint of giddiness from Vigil.
“I’m too old for that.” Lesion settles down and shuts with a bang. He smirks when Vigil follows in and watches the man blow some warm air between those reddened hands. Thoughts are pushed back when he reaches out for a hold, and while being surprised at himself, Lesion keeps the thrill at bay. “Tsk. Am I touching ice cubes?”
There is a twitch, but Vigil keeps them still under Lesion’s palms. “No. Your hands are so warm.” He eyes out at streets full of colourful lights and eateries that are still open. Dry coughs come first before he slips his lukewarm hand on Lesion’s shoulder. “I should get something warmer. Care for hot cocoa?”
While they can stay like this for a bit longer, Lesion decides against being too greedy. Seeing Vigil accepting his touch is good enough, well, the best he can have for tonight. “Sure. Double the marshmallow for a sweet tooth like yours.”
“What makes you say that?”
“I know so.”
That’s another banter started between them, and it won’t be quelled until they move onto some other topic. Seeing the so-called tired introvert regaining vigour convinces Lesion that their current state of relationship is already steady and strong, and maybe, just maybe he can try different approaches to gauge where he stands within Vigil’s mind. As of now, they are on a hangout to a convenient store for a snack haul.
They are doing perfectly fine.