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Babe wants to take swimming lessons.
Kant is surprised at first. He doesn’t know why he didn’t think this would come up eventually. Maybe it was wishful thinking.
But it makes sense, really, it does. Babe is ten and he has friends talking about going on beach vacations or going to the local onsen and playing in the pool but Babe has never set foot near water in his life.
It wasn’t on purpose. At least not consciously. It’s just that Kant hasn’t gotten close to open water or a pool or anything like that since the plane crash. And well, aside from school, Babe doesn’t really go anywhere without Kant.
So it makes sense that Babe would ask eventually. And it’s not like Kant can just say no. Babe doesn’t really know about any of that yet. Yeah, he knows that their parents died in a plane crash when he was barely learning to walk, but Kant never even told him that he was in the crash with them. That he almost drowned in the water.
Even if he did know, Kant isn’t so sure Babe would understand how much the water scares Kant. He’s too young, really, to put those sorts of things together, to understand the way an experience like that can affect you.
Though, maybe Kant is just blowing it out of proportion. It’s been nine years since the plane crash. Really, he should be fine now, shouldn’t he?
So he tells Babe yes. He scrounges up as much extra money he can find and is barely able to pay for the first lesson, but Babe seems so excited, so Kant thinks it’ll be worth it.
And it is, really. Or it should be. Babe is fine, Babe is totally safe in the water with the instructor that’s teaching the group of kids. He stands up perfectly fine in the shallow end, the water just meeting his chest, his head completely above the water. Babe is fine.
Yet, as Kant sits on the sidelines with the other parents, he suddenly finds it a lot harder to breathe. He tries to brush it off at first, clearing his throat and shifting in his chair, shaking his head as if it’ll make the pain in his chest disappear.
One of the moms beside him asks if he’s okay and Kant glances at her with a forced smile and a nod, eyes quickly flicking back to Babe in the water.
“Are you sure, honey? You look a little pale,” she points out, voice gentle.
“No, yeah, yeah, just, um,” Kant clears his throat again, trying to get a breath as he looks briefly at her again. “Is it, um, is it hot in here?”
She frowns. “Honestly, it’s a little cold.”
“Right,” Kant mutters and his eyes flick out to the water again. Babe isn’t where he just was.
Kant vaguely hears the woman speaking again, but his brain doesn’t register any of the words. They’re muffled, jumbled together, like there’s water in his ears.
Everything suddenly sounds like he’s underwater again.
Kant shoots to his feet, looking around frantically as his breathing comes out rapidly. “Babe? Babe!”
“P’Kant?”
Kant looks down and Babe is at his side, looking up at him, confused and concerned.
Kant drops down to his knees then and pulls his little brother to his chest, not caring that Babe is still soaking wet from being in the pool.
“Where the hell did you go? I looked up and you weren’t in the water anymore!” Kant somewhat shouts, pulling back to grab Babe by the shoulders.
Babe looks at him with wide eyes, almost a little scared. Kant never yells at him.
“I… I was coming to ask you for some water…” Babe hesitantly explains.
Kant’s eyes drop, a shaky breath leaving him. “Right…” he says quietly. He nods his head, making a decision. “Look, uh, we have to go, okay?”
Babe frowns as Kant moves to stand up. “What? But I was having fun!”
Kant sighs. “I know but I… we just have to go, okay?” He starts to collect their things.
Babe crosses his arms over his chest, stamping one of his feet. His face is all scrunched up and there’s a pout on his lips. “But I don’t wanna!” he insists.
Kant snaps. “Don’t argue with me! We’re going!”
Babe is still looking up at him with that pout, he’s breathing heavily through his nose and there are tears in his eyes, but he doesn’t argue.
Kant sighs again. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. With their things packed up, Kant reaches out to pull one of Babe’s hands from his crossed arms and leads him out. Babe follows, stomping the whole way and Kant does his best to not think about what the other parents must be thinking of him.
***
On the drive back home, when Kant feels like he can breathe again, he apologizes again.
“Babe?” he calls gently, glancing through the rearview mirror towards his brother. Babe is still sitting with his arms crossed, face scrunched in clear anger as he looks out the window. He doesn’t acknowledge Kant. “I’m sorry.”
Babe still doesn’t acknowledge him.
Kant sighs, eyes focusing on the road again. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that, I just…” Kant trails briefly. “I’m… I’m really scared of the water.”
When Kant looks at his brother again through the mirror, Babe’s anger has seemed to melt into confusion. He still doesn’t look toward Kant right away, but eventually his folded arms drop and he looks toward his older brother. “You’re scared of the water? ” Babe repeats, like he doesn’t think that’s possible.
Kant tries not to feel judged by it. Babe is just a kid. Kant sighs. His eyes focus on the road again. “Yeah. I… almost drowned when I was a kid. I haven’t… been around it since. I thought it would be fine, but I just… I got a little freaked out and when I couldn’t see you, it scared me. I’m sorry.”
Babe is quiet for a long moment and Kant risks another glance through the mirror. He looks like he’s thinking.
“It’s okay. But does that mean I can’t go back to the pool?” There’s a pout on his lips and Kant can’t help but let out a soft huff of amusement.
“No,” he answers, briefly pressing his lips together in thought. “I just can’t take you. I’ll talk to P’Style, how about that? I’m sure he’ll be up for taking you.”
When Kant glances through the mirror again, Babe is grinning and nodding. “Okay! P’Style is fun.”
Kant laughs. “He is.”
***
Kant drops by the auto shop the next day.
Style is working on a car and doesn’t even seem to hear him as he pulls up, which isn’t much of a shock with how loud his music is blasting. Kant gets out of his car and walks over, kicking one of Style’s legs in lieu of a greeting.
“Oy!” Style vocalizes and he pushes himself out from under the car. Seeing Kant, he instantly points his wrench at him. “Ai’Kant! You asshole,” he laughs. Kant does, too, reaching out a hand to help Style up.
Style takes it with his free hand, getting to his feet. “What are you doing here, besides annoying me? Finally gonna sell me your car?” he asks, teasingly and his eyes shift to find where Kant had parked.
Style wolf whistles. Kant rolls his eyes.
“No, you dick,” Kant answers through a laugh. He sobers after a moment. “I have a favor to ask you.”
Style looks at him, almost bewildered by the change in Kant’s mood. “Okay… you didn’t kill someone right? I don’t have anywhere to hide a body in the garage.”
Kant huffs in amusement. “No, I didn’t kill anyone,” he half-heartedly assures. He pauses a moment. “You know how I mentioned Babe was gonna start taking swimming lessons?”
Style’s eyebrows furrow at the question. “Yeah?” He asks it like a question, like he’s not sure what it has to do with him. Which Kant supposes is fair.
“Well, it turns out, I can’t really take him anymore, but he still really wants to go,” Kant explains, hesitant. “Would you be willing to take him? It’s on Saturdays at noon, I’ll give you the address and talk to the instructor myself about the switch, but I -”
“Kant,” Style stops him with a bit of a laugh, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Yeah, of course I’ll take him. You know I love that kid,” Style assures with a smile.
Kant relaxes, not even realizing he’d been tense. “Thank you.”
Style gives him a smile. “Of course,” he assures again, squeezing Kant’s shoulder. “Why can’t you take him, though?” he asks. Kant can tell he’s genuinely curious, his tone isn’t judging.
Kant briefly presses his lips together, eyes dropping. “It turns out I’m not as over my fear of the water as I thought,” he explains quietly.
Style is really the only person Kant has told about that. He’d dropped bits of information initially, about his parents dying in the plane crash. It was something they’d bonded over, losing their parents when they were young.
And then he’d mentioned his fear of the water when Style had suggested the two of them doing a trip to the beach together. Style hadn’t prodded.
It was only a few months ago that he had offhandedly mentioned that his drowning incident had also been during the plane crash - that he’d been on the plane with his parents when it’d gone down. Style had yelled at him a little about the fact that he hadn’t mentioned that sooner. Kant still doesn’t really see why it was all that important.
Style raises his eyebrows a bit at Kant. “Yeah, no shit,” he offers, voice a bit teasing. “That’s not how fear works, idiot. You have to actually face it if you wanna get over it.”
Kant raises his own eyebrows. “Are you suggesting I keep taking Babe and ruin that for him?”
Style laughs. “No, of course not. But if you wanna get over it, maybe you should go to the pool yourself,” he suggests with a shrug.
Kant tilts his head. He’s quiet a moment. “Maybe…” he trails quietly.
Style laughs again, pats Kant’s shoulder. “Just think about it,” he states simply. He moves to sit down back down on the creeper, eyes focused up at Kant still. “Make sure to send me the class info,” he reminds Kant, pointing the wrench briefly at him.
Kant hums, nods. He watches Style slide back under the car. It’s a long moment before he goes back to his own car.
***
It’s a couple weeks before Kant actually takes Style’s advice.
Babe had been talking nonstop about how much fun he’s been having at his swimming lessons and Style keeps shooting him little knowing looks every time he drops his little brother back off at the house.
So, Kant decides to try. He buys himself a swimsuit, and arrives at the onsen, fully confident he’ll get in the water.
Only he doesn’t.
He’s walking toward the steps when he stops, several feet from them, just staring at it. He swears he can see the floating luggage from the plane crash in the water.
Kant blinks. The luggage is gone.
He goes to sit at one of the empty tables.
Kant isn’t sure how long he sits there, just staring at the water, willing himself to get back up and actually get in. But every time he goes to make the move to stand, he feels completely frozen. He hears his own voice, much younger, calling for his parents.
Eventually, he gives up. Gets up and leaves without even getting close to the edge.
He spends the entire drive home berating himself. It shouldn’t be this hard, dammit. It’s been nearly a decade, he’s a twenty-one year old man, he should be able to get in water without feeling like a goddamn prey animal.
Next week, he’ll go back and actually go in.
***
What actually happens is that a pattern develops. Kant goes back again and can’t get in again . This goes on for weeks, but Kant is too stubborn and too committed to it now to give up.
After a month, he asks Style to come with him.
Style looks at him, almost incredulous. “Wait, seriously?”
Kant lets out a sigh, like it physically pains him to be asking for help. In many ways it does. “Yes. I think… having someone there might help.”
Style’s grin is wide and he knocks his fist against Kant’s shoulder. It’s not quite a punch but Kant retracts his shoulder as if it is anyways, lifting the opposite hand to hold it as he lets out a pained hiss, which Style completely ignores. “Of course I’ll go with you, idiot. What are best friends for?”
Kant rolls his eyes. “And here I thought you were just friends with me to catcall my car.”
“I mean, that’s certainly part of it, she is one hot ride. I mean, the rims on her -” Style has stretched out his hands as if he’s imagining the feel of the car under it and Kant shoves at his shoulder to get him to stop.
“You’re disgusting,” he says, but he’s laughing and so is Style.
“And yet you trust me to help soothe your fear,” Style teases.
Kant shakes his head, turns to leave. “Actually, I think I’ll handle it myself after all-”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Style grabs Kant by the shoulders, turns him back around. “No take backsies. I’m going now, whether you like it or not.”
Kant rolls his eyes. “I already regret this.”
***
Kant ends up meaning it more than he realizes, but not for the way he thinks at the time.
The truth is, Style is actually very helpful. He manages to help distract Kant enough that Kant is sitting by the water, cross legged, instead of sitting at a table or chair several feet away. Style is actually in the water, trying to be encouraging.
But Kant still can’t get in. And he’s so embarrassed , his face flushed as Style tries to encourage him to get in beside him.
Kant can’t bring his legs to even dangle in the water and he feels frustrated tears building in his eyes.
Style seems to notice and he sighs, pulling himself out of the water and up to sit beside Kant, his own feet dangling in the water.
“Kant, it’s okay,” Style assures softly, one of his hands resting against Kant’s back.
“It’s not,” Kant insists shakily, eyes snapping to look at Style. “I should be able to do this, it’s just water. I’m taller than the deep end, it’s not like I’m gonna fucking drown, it’s so stupid, I shouldn’t be so fucking weak- ”
“Kant.” Style’s arm is all the way around him now and he’s pulling Kant against him and Kant goes, face pressing instinctively against his best friend’s shoulder as he breathes out shakily.
Style doesn’t say anything more for a moment, hand just rubbing comfortingly against Kant’s shoulders as Kant tries to calm himself. Eventually, Style sighs. “It’s not stupid, Kant. Everybody has their fears. And they can’t be driven away by logic,” Style points out gently. “You went through something traumatic . That’s gonna affect you, whether you like it or not. You’re not weak for it. Actually, the fact that you wanna face it makes you pretty damn strong.”
Kant looks up then, giving Style a skeptical look. Style laughs, squeezes his shoulder. “I’m serious. You don’t really have to be doing this. It’s not a requirement. The fact that you want to is really brave. Even if it’s just baby steps right now,” Style insists.
Kant sighs, moving to straighten back up. “You may have a point,” he offers hesitantly, quietly.
Style laughs. “Of course I do! And beating yourself up for only taking baby steps is not helping anyone, by the way,” he adds teasingly, shoving at Kant’s shoulder to get him fully off.
Kant laughs softly. “Okay, I get it.”
Style nods. “Good,” he determines. “So, today, we’ll just sit. And next time maybe you’ll even get your legs in the water,” he adds, tone light, playful.
Kant hums. “Yeah. Maybe.”
***
Kant doesn’t put his legs in the water next time. But he does, eventually, a couple weeks later.
Honestly, Kant doesn’t even notice it at first. He and Style are talking, recapping their days. Kant’s in the middle of explaining one of the clients he had today that had been shocked to find out tattoos really do hurt to get and had left with nothing more than a line on their arm, when he starts to get a little uncomfortable in his position. He stretches his legs out absently as he talks, letting them slide into the water.
Style’s eyes go wide, pointing at Kant’s legs, interrupting him in the middle of his sentence. “Ai’Kant!”
Kant’s eyebrows furrow and he looks down. His own eyes go wide and then he looks back at Style. “Oh my god.”
Style laughs and he smacks Kant on the shoulder. “See, told you! Baby steps.”
Kant feels a smile stretch on his own lips as he looks down at his own legs in the water. Baby steps.
***
After that, the baby steps become a little easier to take. The next week, Kant slides into the shallow end. It’s only for a few minutes before he feels panic start to set in, but it’s still a few minutes longer than he’d managed to do before, and Style tells him he should be proud.
A couple weeks later, he’s able to stand in the shallow end during their whole time at the pool.
A couple weeks after that, he tries the deep end. It’s again only for a few minutes before he has to move back to the shallow end, but it’s progress, he tells himself.
Eventually, he can stay in the deep end the whole time.
Eventually, it becomes relaxing.
When he tells Style that, he’s not sure his best friend has ever looked prouder.
“So… beach vacation then?” Style asks playfully, raising his eyebrows at his best friend.
Kant laughs. “Definitely not. Open water is a totally different ball park.”
Style hums, playfully disappointed. “That’s okay. This is fun enough.”
Kant nods. He sobers after a moment. “Honestly, I don’t know if open water will ever be an option,” he confesses quietly, eyes dropping to the water in front of him as he leans against the side of the pool.
“That’s okay,” Style offers and when Kant looks up, he has a gentle smile on his face. “Not like you really need to worry about it. No open water near us,” Style points out.
“Thank God for that,” Kant answers playfully.
Style laughs. “Who knows, maybe one day you’ll find a reason to face it. A better one than fun beach vacations with your best friend,” he points out playfully.
Kant huffs softly. “Yeah, maybe.”
***
Kant stares out at the open water as the boat moves away from the island. The same boat he’d been on only a few days prior, tied up and terrified.
This time, he doesn’t see luggage or plane parts or hear his own voice. He just sees open water, hears Style teasing Fadel just a couple of inches away.
He feels Bison squeeze at his hand.
Kant looks over, eyebrows raised a bit expectantly. Bison smiles at him, almost hesitant.
“Not scared?” Bison asks, voice quiet.
Kant smiles, breaths out through his nose as if in amusement. “Not at all,” he admits softly. He squeezes Bison’s hand and brings the back of it to his lips, pressing a kiss there. “I’ve got you.”
Bison laughs, smile widening and ducks his head against Kant’s shoulder. Kant’s own smile widens into a grin and he drops a kiss to Bison’s hair, rests his nose there for a moment.
Kant feels eyes on him and he turns his head, looks over to see Style smiling at them fondly. Style tilts his head, almost in question. Kant nods back, smile still wide before he looks back at Bison, whose eyes have fallen closed.
Yeah, Kant thinks. Bison is more than reason enough.