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The moment the necklace disappears beneath the waves, Kant knows a chapter of his life is coming to an end. It may even be the very last chapter he ever gets to experience if he doesn’t play his cards right. Weeks of lies and misdirected truths should have given him enough of a fighting chance against Bison. But the rocking of the boat and the sloshing of waves make him feel unsteady.
He hasn’t been to the ocean since the accident all those years ago. Now that he is close enough to smell the salty tang of seawater, he’s painfully reminded of the reason why.
“Bison, why am I here?” His voice sounds small and far away. He should really keep his attention on the professional killer pointing a gun at his chest. And yet Kant’s eyes can’t seem to stray from the ocean. There is no escaping this, not when the water is all around him.
He hears Bison yell for his attention, but it’s drowned out by his own voice from years ago. Kant has the strange desire to call out to his younger self, or maybe just join him in his fear and misery. Not to call out to parents he now knows are dead, but to let out some of the nervous energy he feels building in his stomach.
He knows he’s verging on a panic attack. He’s gone through this process enough times since the crash to recognize the signs. His vision is filled with memories, floating suitcases and metallic pieces that used to form a plane drifting on the current. He tries desperately to push the memories to the background and focus on his current situation.
It’s nearly whiplash-inducing when Kant’s reality rights itself again. Just in time to see the necklace disappear beneath the water. He looks up at Bison and sees so much hurt and pain reflected there. It feels like a physical punch.
“Was it really all just a lie? Did you love me at all?” Bison sounds so broken, tears tracking across his cheeks. There is so much unpredictability in his movement that it should make Kant uncomfortable. Especially with the gun still pointed his way. Instead, he just feels tired and strangely numb. He should answer Bison, tell him he loves him more than he probably should in their current circumstances. That he’s sorry and never wanted this to happen. Somehow those sentences no longer feel like the lie they started out as.
He feels like he can’t breathe. Like the water is already closing in. Bison seems to take his silence as answer enough, and a new wave of hurt, pain, and desperation crosses his features.
“How could you betray me? How could you betray Fadel?” It’s the first time he sees true anger enter Bison’s expression. It does little to motivate Kant. He feels horrible about the way he has treated Bison, but the mention of Fadel brings to mind another face: Babe. The sole reason he ever said yes to this suicide mission. He thinks Bison will take care of Babe when he eventually kills Kant. Bison isn't necessarily a good person, but Kant has seen him interact with his little brother. It’s with the same care and warmth he extends to the stray cats of the neighborhood. It’s not ideal, but at least Babe would have someone to lean on when Kant is gone.
“I can explain, but please, can we talk on land? I don’t… I’m scared of the ocean.”
“You should have thought of that before. It’s too late now!” Bison yells with a cruel laugh that sounds a little strangled. It’s deranged and dangerous, and if Kant were in the right headspace, he probably would have been scared.
“If you care for me at all… if you ever loved me… you would dive to get the necklace!” Bison yells, pointing frantically at the spot where the necklace disappeared. Kant makes the mistake of following his finger, and the sight of the water nearly sends him spiraling again. Up until now, he’s managed to keep his fear relatively under control, but the idea of being in the water has his heartbeat in his throat.
He hears Bison yelling again, but the sound is drowned out by the buzzing in his ears. It isn’t until he feels the cold metal of the gun press against his chest that he understands. Bison is pushing him towards the edge of the boat. Kant’s entire body shakes and trembles, and he tries to plead for Bison to reconsider, but the hitman keeps relentlessly pushing him forward.
“Jump!”
Kant opens his mouth to protest, but another nudge from the gun snaps his mouth closed. It’s either being shot or drowning. Even if he could swim, Kant's wrists are still tightly bound together. Jumping is certain death, but as he looks back at the mad gleam in Bison’s eyes, he thinks his chances are not much better if he stays on board.
“Either jump or I’ll push you in,” Bison threatens.
It was there only for a second. Kant would have missed it if he hadn't been laser-focused on Bison’s face. A little sliver of childlike hope, immediately squashed down but there nonetheless. Bison was still looking for Kant to prove his love. Somehow he hadn’t been able to write Kant off completely yet. Meaning there was still a chance to redeem himself. A chance to survive this.
Kant is nothing if not a cockroach. He prides himself on his self-preservation skills, not for himself but for his brother. If there is any chance at all that he can save his brother the same pain he’d felt his entire youth, then Kant is willing to do anything. Even if it means swimming in the ocean and reliving the worst moments of his life.
If this is how he dies, Kant realizes he doesn’t mind the last person he sees being Bison. Even with his face contorted in all the terrible emotions Kant is responsible for, he is still beautiful. Kant wants to see him smile again. More importantly, he wants to be the reason for the smile again. If he makes it out of this, he vows to do better and do anything to get that back.
As he steps forward, he keeps that image in his mind. Bison lounging on his chest and tracing lazy circles on his waist. Cheekily smiling up and demanding a kiss that Kant is only too happy to give.
He tries to hold only these images like a lifeline, but the moment his body hits the water, there is only ice-cold panic. An adrenaline rush propels his body into action, thrashing violently against his restraints, only succeeding in making them tighter. His body bucks and his legs kick out aimlessly. He tries to keep his eyes on the surface, but without the use of his arms, he can’t guide himself, and soon he can’t tell up from down anymore. By now, he’s sunk low enough that the light barely shines through.
His lungs are burning, body exhausted by his struggle, but his mind is still screaming. Images of a plane crash merge with memories of a memorial service. Kant and Babe sitting at home together, all alone and grieving. It hits him that Babe will have no idea what happened to him. He hopes Bison will tell him Kant just left; he doesn’t want his brother to experience any more grief.
Thoughts of his brother bring clarity, and with new vigor. By now, he’s reached the bottom. Maybe if he kicks off really hard, he can propel himself towards the surface. He makes a valiant effort, but his tired legs only manage to get him a little way off the bottom. He bucks again, and this time, the sand he kicks up brings something along with it. The necklace catches the light just before it hits the bottom again.
Suddenly, this seems like the most important discovery. Instead of kicking up again, he uses a leg to kick himself closer to the necklace. Trying to grab it with his arms behind his back is difficult, and as he tries, he realizes he’s quickly losing this battle. His hands move sluggishly and feel heavier by the second. He feels like a clunky claw machine, his fingers grasping the beads but unable to truly grab them and hold on.
He thinks of Bison as he’s being pulled along through the arcade hall. Bison laughing carelessly as Kant loses another pinball game he’d claimed to be good at. The multicolored lights that make Bison look straight out of an 80s show. His awe as Kant wins him a plush cat with a basketball game.
His hand finally grips the necklace, and he’s no longer in the arcade. Instead, he is several meters under the surface of the ocean. His lungs burn, and his limbs no longer seem to respond. His mind is fuzzy and slow. Keeping the necklace safe seems to be a priority, and he forces his aching limbs to respond. Clumsily, he wraps the accessory around his wrist, trapping it under the rope. If this is the end, he hopes whoever finds his body will give the necklace back to its owner.
The moment he can’t stop the instinctual gasp any longer and feels water rush into his lungs, he feels panic and grief for a life spent wrong and not nearly long enough. His body spasms, and in its search for air, finds only more water. His mind grows quieter. There is supposed to be a run-through of your life waiting for you at the end, but for Kant, it's a single image. Kant lounging on his couch with Bison curled into his side, gently snoring. Babe is in the other chair, making faces at the sickeningly domestic picture of his brother and his boyfriend. Kant making a face right back. It’s home. Somewhere along the line, Bison has become a part of Kant’s family. In the end, he can no longer lie to himself: he has fallen head over heels for the hitman.
His thoughts slow down as his body stops moving. The occasional muscle spasms stop, and his body goes limp as his eyes drift closed.
Too late, he realizes he doesn’t actually want to hurt Kant. Too late, he realizes he isn’t even angry at the man who broke his heart into a million pieces. He should be. Bison isn’t exactly the most stable person. He has enough self-reflection to see that, and he’s prone to anger.
When the emotion stays dormant, he tries to ignite it by picking at the still bleeding wounds on his heart. He needs the fury to be able to do what needs to be done. He can’t let Kant get away with playing with his emotions like this.
And yet, the moment he sees Kant disappear beneath the surface, he only feels dread and worry. He hadn’t expected Kant—pale, trembling, sweating, and clearly terrified—to actually jump in. He curses himself for being so stupid as to let him.
“Kant!” he yells when Kant doesn’t surface. His eyes search the water for any signs of life, and when he doesn’t find any, he yells again and again. Each time, his voice gets progressively more panicked.
He tries to convince himself that he’s only doing this because Kant needs to suffer more for what he’s done. That it can’t be over this fast and this suddenly. He doesn’t know if he means their relationship or the torture he should put Kant through. The gun clatters on the deck as Bison jumps into the water after him.
It doesn’t take him long to spot Kant at all. He must have sunk straight down. Bison feels relieved when he thinks he sees movement, but as he swims closer, that relief immediately chills. Kant isn’t moving, not voluntarily at least. His hospital gown is billowing in the water while his limbs just hang and sway weightlessly. His lips are parted and slack, and in a rush of madness, Bison presses his own mouth against it and tries to breathe life back into Kant’s unmoving body.
Air escapes in a flurry of bubbles from between their mouths. Kant remains oblivious to Bison’s gift. With his own lungs now screaming, Bison grips Kant under his armpits and drags him toward the surface. He tries not to think about the way Kant’s head falls forward as he propels them up. He doesn’t think about the fact that he doesn’t feel the motion of a chest rising and falling. He especially doesn’t try to notice the way Kant’s lips are now blue and his skin seems almost gray in the water.
He is coughing and frantically trying to suck air into his lungs as they surface. The silence has never been louder than when he realizes Kant doesn’t do the same. He doesn’t even lift his head from the water, and Bison lets out a strangled sob when he has to angle Kant’s face up himself to keep it above the water. As he drags Kant with him toward the surface, he tries desperately to rouse him. Shaking and yelling for him do nothing, and by the end, Bison is left uttering nonsense in a voice that sounds small, breathless, and utterly delusional, even to himself.
“I swear, if you die on me here, I’m going to make sure you regret it. Do you have any idea how bad you made me feel, and you think I’d let you off the hook this easy? Think again! I won’t let you escape me, Kant!” All throughout his speech, the body in his arms refrains from moving.
With aching muscles, Bison manages to drag Kant onto the beach. He realizes suddenly that he has no idea how to administer CPR. No one has ever deemed it necessary to teach him—why would a killer need to know how to keep others alive? His hands shake as he presses them to Kant’s chest. He can’t just sit by and do nothing; he’s seen enough movies to understand the general gist of it, and he knows it’s to the beat of some old song.
He also knows doing this wrong can be dangerous, but there is no other option. At the last moment, he reaches out and angles Kant’s chin up before he presses down on the place he knows Kant’s heart is located. He breathes into his mouth and repeats with more pressure. He doesn’t know if he’s doing this right, but Bison is determined.
“You stupid idiot, when have you ever done what I asked of you! “ pump - pump - breathe “All you do is try to worm your way into my life and now that I want you there you think you can just leave!” pump - pump - breathe “You still need to make it up to me!” pump - pump - breathe “I don’t care that you lied to me or that you never loved me, I still need you.” pump - pump - breathe “Kant… please” pump - pump - breathe
With a sudden jolt, the body under his hands comes alive again. His back arches, and all at once, the world is filled with the sound of violent coughing and retching as Kant’s body tries to expel the seawater. Bison is momentarily frozen in shock before he rushes to help. Kant’s body is spasming, trembling violently, and Bison hears the broken sobs between retches as he fights for control. Bison rolls him onto his side so the water doesn’t get stuck in his throat.
“Kant! Hey, can you hear me? It’s okay, you’re okay.” He reaches over to rub Kant’s back when something catches his eye: a string of black and white beads wrapped around a slender wrist and trapped beneath the coils of rope. The sight of his necklace wrenches the ugliest sob from him he’s ever heard himself make. Even Kant, still barely conscious, seems startled, and Bison feels his body move closer to his own. Like he wants to offer Bison comfort by pressing himself close. He’s still coughing and sucking in air desperately, but consciousness is slowly returning as he fights the remnants of water from his body.
“You actually got it for me.”
He reaches out to untangle the necklace from Kant’s wrist when Kant suddenly starts thrashing. Bison thinks something must be wrong—maybe a seizure or some internal injury he doesn’t know about. He gets a misguided shoulder to his jaw while trying to calm Kant down, before he realizes what’s happening. Kant is trying to keep his body between him and the necklace; he’s protecting it.
“Kant, stop! Calm down. It’s okay, it’s me. Open your eyes for me, please.” It takes a few moments, but then Kant’s eyes blink open. His gaze is unfocused and confused.
“Bi...son?” His voice is croaky and soft, and Bison thinks it’s probably the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard.
“Fuck, Kant, why do you have to make it so goddamn impossible for me to hate you?” A tired smile tugs at Kant’s lips, even as his eyelids are already fluttering closed again.
“Mean you... for...give...me?”
“No, it means I won’t kill you immediately.”
“So I still... have... a chance?” Even though his eyes have fallen closed, the cocky grin remains plastered on Kant’s face. Bison sighs; he has left all his fighting spirit in the boat drifting a few meters from shore. He hasn’t forgiven Kant—not by a long shot—but he doesn’t think he can take losing him again. Not when the mere idea makes him want to cry. Instead, he releases the rope and untangles the necklace.
“I haven’t decided yet. Rest first, and then we’re going to have a talk.” Kant lets out a mumble of agreement, already half asleep.
Bison sighs; he knows he’s fucked. He reclasps the necklace around his neck, the weight of it solid evidence that Kant is still beside him. He doesn’t know what tomorrow—or even the next hour—will hold for them, but he isn’t ready to let go of the fantasy yet. He doesn’t think Kant is either. Maybe there is still a chance for something new to bloom from between the ruins of their previous relationship.