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Javier Asrahan was supposed to be invincible.
His story was designed to leave him as the last man standing; the knight that bore the weight of his tragic world. And Suho was just an outsider, a viewer, watching the movie play, zooming into on his face, his swordplay, metal striking metal before his faceless opponents were elegantly disposed of, falling out of frame.
Suho only had to glance at the periphery of his vision to see that no borders existed where he was standing. The few bodies they were able to cut down stayed on the ground, and one of them was his own doing, unmoving in a pool of blood. The others were felled by his knight’s sword, but for some reason, these were no ordinary fighters, able to stand toe to toe with a swordsmaster. He tried to wrack his brain for anything in the novel that could be related to these guys, but the momentary lack of focus was all their enemies needed.
Javier didn’t even cry out.
Instead, Suho heard Lloyd’s screams. Oh, those were technically his own screams, weren’t they? He frantically swings a flurry of attacks to fend off their unknown assailants; a master attempting to defend his own fallen knight. A powerful mana blast from his shovel managed to send one of them to the trees, breaking bones and flesh. Somehow, that was enough for them to back off. Perhaps they were no longer worth the trouble, or perhaps they had already set out what they needed to accomplish. Or perhaps there was no reason at all.
Like in the movies, some people exist to make the protagonist suffer.
Who was the protagonist supposed to be here?
Once the external danger seemed to have passed, Suho scrambled to Javier’s side, checking the wound as his knight’s breathing became ragged. “No, no…you can walk this off, right? Javier. Javier!” the cut was deep; it had pierced through his clothing and stained it red. Suho was too rattled to be sure if it hit any vitals, but he was no supportive healer.
He cried out to the messenger, not caring if Javier was conscious or not. Surely there must be something he could buy with his RP to perform a miracle? But the blue box did not appear, and Suho was not going to wait and see. Gritting his teeth, he quickly took off his coat and used it to staunch the bleeding, but they could not stay here, in the middle of nowhere.
(They were just supposed to be surveying. Nothing was supposed to happen. Nothing was supposed to happen.)
Home was perhaps half an hour away on foot, and that was without carrying someone bleeding to death. Suho was not into needlessly destroying nature, but to clear a straight path, he had no choice. He had Ppodong and Hamang take a sunflower seed each, the one that made them grow big, but he made sure to position himself and Javier underneath Hamang so that they were sitting on top of his yellow fur. Ppodong would go ahead and create a straight path for them, and Hamang would follow, carrying the both of them back to the barony.
✲
Suho had once thought his parents were invincible.
He never felt like they had too little; their poverty was masked by loving presences and blessings they could count. Sure, the food on the table was not as fancy as what he saw on the TV screen, but it was good. It was filling. Best of all, it was–for the most part–eaten with his parents, who sat across the table, in the same spots they always were in. Mom to his left, and Dad to his right.
In truth, they were not always happy. Suho felt that was impossible, and yet…if he were to choose the memory of that round dinner table in his childhood home, he would remember them smiling. Chopsticks hitting the cheap porcelain bowls, the smell of delicious food that his mother had prepared, and their voices, intermingling, now distant and faint.
✲
Suho never left Javier’s side, even after Marbella insisted on checking if he had any injuries that needed to be tended to. The young master snapped, distraught–he was unharmed, never mind his bloody clothes, and proceeded to curse his knight’s excruciating sense of duty as said person laid unconscious before them.
She embraced him then, as good mothers do. He was often surprised, time and again, that her love extended even to someone like him, a pretender in her son’s body. He was reminded of his own mother, who he realized that if she were still here today, he would be taller than her. What would it have been like to wrap his arms around her, like with Marbella at this very moment? The thought was fleeting, but the ache in his chest remained.
“He will come back to us, as he always has done.” Marbella let her hand linger on Suho’s arm; a gentle grasp to keep them both grounded.
“He better come back.” he scowled, wishing that moment would come sooner so he didn’t have to continue living in agonizing wait, “He didn’t have to…I swear, I’m going to yell at him for being such a goddamn idiot, and it’s only gonna matter if he’s awake to hear it.”
And it hurt that Javier did not stir, not once.
Suho could imagine, actually, his knight being his stupid protagonist self, feeling proud that he was able to accomplish his duty of protecting his master. He distinctly remembered reading those words from his screen–white characters in a sea of dark gray, meant to encapsulate what was necessary for a reader to know who Javier was and how he had come to be.
Suho had come to learn that thinking too deeply about his position as an outsider only invited both headache and heartache. He had, after all, come to cherish these characters, originally figments of his imagination that moved under an author’s muse. And here, they were not characters, but people. Artworks brought to life, moving and thinking and feeling.
But he had to be the one to ruin all of that, didn’t he?
He was not Lloyd Frontera.
Javier shouldn’t be protecting him.
He was Kim Suho.
He was not worth dying for.
✲
Unfortunately, Suho also did not have the luxury of skipping to the end, when all was once again right with the world. In fact, the world was never all that kind to him, he knew that much. Maybe he was a protagonist, in his own way, because someone out there was piling all the hurt on him for their own entertainment.
He supposed that was one reason why he resonated with Javier so much, even if that was one of the only things they had in common.
Suho shifted uncomfortably in his chair, stretching one arm upward and letting out a soft grunt before moving his head and neck. How did Javier manage to sleep on chairs every night without getting stiff muscles all over? Was it some kind of swordsmaster secret that he had yet to uncover?
He sighed, and it was quiet enough in the room for him to hear it. “It’s been four hours. Are you really going to take a whole day to sleep this off?” he asked Javier, who was still lying in bed, almost unmoving.
…this was karma, wasn’t it?
How long did Javier wait for him again? A month, was it? He frankly couldn’t believe it, and it only really dawned on him why the knight was so angry about his flippant attitude over the whole thing. Now it was his turn to play the waiting game, and he had thought about grabbing him by the shoulders and violently shaking him many times.
But he restrained himself and kept his hands clasped tightly, his fingers turning white. “You can’t go, okay? I…I forbid you, that’s an order.” Suho clenched his jaw, his chest burning.
As if he had a say in any of this. Since when did he become so unabashedly selfish? Wealth was one thing, but in his eyes it was a self-centered endeavor. He was used to the people in his life remaining transient, as he could never trust fate to allow him to cherish someone for long.
Javier was…
To lose him would be…
✲
“Master Lloyd?”
Suho jolted, not realizing that he had fallen asleep. His whole body ached and complained, but that didn’t matter when the person he had been watching over was sitting up, eyeing him with concern. He could’ve fooled himself into thinking that Javier had just woken up from a nap if it weren’t for the bandages that needed to be changed.
He opened his mouth to speak, but words hitched on his throat. His limbs acted first, pushing him off the chair before moving towards the knight. Oh, how funny life was–so this was what Javier was seeing in Cremo? It had been nighttime too when that little confrontation happened; the light of the fireplace creating dancing shadows on the walls.
Suho placed both of his hands on Javier’s shoulders before gripping them tightly. “You’re such an idiot! What the hell were you thinking back there?!”
Javier winced–from the pain? The shouting? It tugged on Suho’s heart but it did little to quell his anger.
“I had the situation under control! You-you didn’t need to throw yourself like some kind of self-sacrificing piece of shit. Were you planning on leaving me there to fend for myself?” Suho cursed loudly, and he had been trying to look straight at him, but Javier hadn’t said anything, and it was hard staring into those brilliant blue eyes. The novel’s description did not do it justice.
An awkward silence fell between them for a few moments before Javier muttered, “I apologize, my lord. I was not thinking clearly.”
Logically, Suho had assumed that response would make him even angrier. Not thinking clearly? What was that even supposed to mean? But instead of fiery anger, the emotions trapped in his chest sputtered into dying embers. His hands were still gripping the knight’s shoulders, and they trembled; he could feel the bandages on some of his fingers. “That’s really all you have to say for yourself..?” he was no longer yelling, but his throat felt dry. “What happened to all of that crap about whatever you said in Cremo? Or did you think that I still didn’t get it?”
“No–” Javier quickly interjected, “no, I would never–”
“Well you sure showed me.” Suho let out a small pained laugh, hanging his head. “God, I was so…”
He was such a coward, unable to say things honestly. It had nothing to do with Javier being the protagonist of this world nor how difficult the future would be without a swordsmaster by his side–it dawned on Suho the moment he heard the knight speak his fake name–that if he was doomed to never hear that again–
Javier carefully placed one of his own hands over Suho’s. It was somehow gentle rather than weak, though Suho was not sure how much of Javier’s strength had recovered. “It gladdens me that you care for your knight. At least I did not fail my duty this time.”
The last sentence felt like a trigger, but it made Suho release his grip, letting his hands fall.
He hated how Javier Asrahan was designed this way, how his original moniker suited him so well. The Knight of Blood and Iron. And he…he was just a figurehead. Someone that Javier needed to protect.
“...Master Lloyd?”
“Stop.”
And Javier obeyed, though confusion was evident in his face. Suho hated how quickly he followed his command.
“I can’t be anyone’s master, especially yours. So please, don’t call me that.”
“But it is your birthright, and you have proven that you are well-deserving of the title.”
“I don’t want it. If it means that this could happen again, and you might not be so lucky, then I–”
“I cannot stand for that. I am a knight of the Frontera barony-”
“I don’t want you to die because of me!” Suho took in a sharp breath. “I’ve lost so many people already, to lose you…”
Suho didn't care how out of character he sounded at that moment. Even if he never resolved to act like the original Lloyd Frontera, using this body meant that he still had to play pretend to a certain degree-one of them being that Lloyd never experienced loss, not in the way that Suho knew it. In that other life, where real life was as cruel as fiction, he was helpless in the face of death approaching, plucking one soul before the next, leaving him an orphan in a room so small.
It took all of his strength not to let out even the tiniest sob, because that was a weakness he desperately thought he had shed long ago.
This time, it was Javier's turn to reach out and hold the side of Suho's arm. It was not frantic, not entirely firm. “I’m sorry, Lloyd, for making you worry." his tone was quiet, but sincere, or at least, Suho liked to believe it was. He said something like this to him that time in Cremo, didn't he? Maybe they were more similar than he had realized.
"Of course I'm worried. Who's going to do all of the backbreaking labor I need for my construction projects?"
Javier let out a small chuckle then, but as much as Suho wanted to calm the storm in his head, he couldn't. He desperately hoped that his watery eyes weren’t noticeable in the semi-darkness.
"Still thinking about that, I see. But you needn't fret, for I will always be at your side. I swear on it."
A part of him wondered how he managed to gain such loyalty from someone clearly better than him in every way. He had admired this man at a distance, through his story and resilience, and here he was, reaching out a hand to comfort him. Somehow, it made Suho see Javier as both the hero he was written to be, and yet also so much more.
“But," Javier began, "you have to swear to me that you will not think so lowly of yourself. I am proud to serve you, and you are deserving to be called Master.”
The rigidness of Suho’s shoulders eased slightly, and he allowed himself to smile a little. Surely there could be no ulterior motive behind such a claim, yet the sincerity also seemed so...unbelievable. Or rather, he couldn't believe Javier would say such a thing about him. But he decided to take it for now, tentatively, to at least ease him for the mean time until fate decided to toy with him again. “Heh, I never thought you the type to butter someone up. I didn’t even get to ask how you’re feeling.”
In the novel, Javier almost never smiled. Suho could probably count the number of times that word appeared in the novel with his hands, and they usually occurred in flashbacks, before the tragedies unfolded.
But here was the Javier of his time and influence, smiling at him, and it was radiant. “My ego is bruised. It is clear I need further training.”
“You cheeky bastard. We both need more training.” as well as some investigation on who the hell were those assailants, especially if that was not the last they were going to see them. Somehow, though, Suho felt like the worst had passed for now, and he resolved himself to be even more prepared for the possibilities to come. “But first, you need more rest. Would the lullaby service be required?”
“Heh, let me lie back in bed first before you knock me out.”
But before Javier could do such a thing, Suho had moved closer and reached out his hand, grasping his arm.
“Master Lloyd..?”
Their faces were close. Suho remembered that one time where he felt the heat of Javier’s embrace, and he wanted to wrap his arms around him, but he stopped himself. “I wanted to check if this was real, that’s all.”
Suho cared for a number of people in his life, beyond those that he felt responsible for. He wondered how he had gotten here, to feel the way he felt about this man that was once only existing in his dreams.
Javier furrowed his brows slightly, but he did not look away. “...I am here.”
“Ah.” Suho wished that it were always so. “Just wanted to make sure.”